*BeColorfullyCreative*

Many people have posted images of the bonus chapters from Sarah J. Maas's books, and I thank you for giving us access to content we would have missed out on otherwise. However, no one person has posted all of them, so I figure that I can collate the links in one place.

There are minor spoilers below the cut in the chapter descriptions, so be wary of looking too far ahead, if you have not read all the books.

Link’s home

# And they haven’t even met 

+ Bonus

love your work btww 🥰😫

(ps this is my first time writing a request)

𝐑𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝟓 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭.

summary: Ron keeps trying to ask you out, fails every time—until he finally kisses you in the Gryffindor common room.

warnings: use of y/n like 3-4 times.

word count: 1.3k

taglist: @aouoo @plumbum4 @iluvhrj @divineani @lilians17

this idea is so cute! Im so happy you enjoy my work, and I hope you enjoy reading this <3

Ron Weasley had always been terrible at feelings.

He could handle a chessboard like a pro, knock a Bludger straight into Malfoy’s smug face, and devour a full plate of roast beef in under five minutes—but when it came to you, he was all thumbs and second-guessing.

And that was saying something. Because he’d known you since second year. Sat next to you in Charms. Shared study notes. Laughed until he cried after Fred and George turned your ink purple for a week.

But somewhere between laughter and late-night common room chats, things had changed. His stomach flipped every time you touched his arm. His ears burned red when you leaned over his shoulder. And Merlin help him when you called him “Ronnie” during that Care of Magical Creatures lesson last spring.

It was hopeless.

Still, he had a plan.

Just… ask her out. Simple.

Except nothing at Hogwarts was ever simple.

⸻

Attempt #1 – Transfiguration Disaster

It was right after McGonagall dismissed class on a rainy Thursday, and Ron saw his window. You were stuffing your books into your bag, the strap of your satchel slipping off your shoulder. You looked tired, but pretty—he noticed that now. How the candlelight always made your eyes look softer somehow.

Ron’s heart was pounding in his ears.

“Hey, Y/N?” he asked, stepping up beside you and trying to sound casual.

You turned to him, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering if maybe—like, if you weren’t doing anything next weekend, maybe we could—”

CLANG.

An entire bottle of ink came crashing down from above, splattering black across his hair, down his face, into his shirt collar. The gasp that left your mouth was more dramatic than anything he’d ever heard from you.

“Oh my God—Ron!”

Ron stood frozen, blinking black out of his eyes. He looked up. Peeves was floating above them near the rafters, howling with laughter.

“OH-HO! Just trying to clean up the Weasel! Thought he needed a bit of polish!”

Your wand was already out as you began to clean the ink from his face, your fingers brushing under his chin gently.

Ron was only vaguely aware of what you were saying—something about “stupid poltergeist” and “thank Merlin it wasn’t acid”—because all he could think about was how soft your hands were, and how he’d almost asked you out.

Almost.

⸻

Attempt #2 – The Library Ambush

A week later, Ron found you tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, bent over your notes with a quill twirling in your fingers. The sunlight filtered in through the high windows, catching the dust motes in the air around you.

He paced outside the aisle for a full minute, mumbling to himself.

“You can do this. You’ve fought Death Eaters. This is one girl. Just go.”

When he finally approached, you looked up and smiled like he was the very person you’d been hoping to see. His stomach flipped.

“Hi, Ron,” you said. “Looking for a seat?”

He nodded mutely and slid in across from you.

“So, er… I was thinking,” he started, gripping the edge of the table a little too hard. “That maybe you and I could go to Hogsmeade next weekend. Not for, like, sweets. I mean—we could. But I meant, more just—us.”

You stared at him, lips parting slightly.

Just as you opened your mouth—

“RON!”

Hermione appeared around the corner with a towering stack of books wobbling dangerously in her arms.

“There you are!” she huffed. “You said you’d help me carry these after dinner!”

Ron flinched. “I did?”

“Yes, you did.”

She looked at you and gave a polite nod before yanking Ron out of his seat by the sleeve.

“Hermione, wait—I was—”

But she was already dragging him out of the library. You sat there, blinking in confusion, and then shook your head with a little smile.

⸻

Attempt #3 – Quidditch Mayhem

After practice, the pitch still hummed with energy, the sky streaked pink and purple as the sun began to dip low. Ron was sweaty and flushed from the drills, but as he spotted you waiting by the stands with your scarf wrapped around your neck, he swore you were glowing.

He jogged over, hair damp and chest heaving. “Hey! You stayed!”

You smiled, hugging your cloak tighter around yourself. “Of course I did. I like watching you play.”

That earned a bright blush. “Thanks. So, um, I’ve been thinking…”

He reached for the words carefully this time.

“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? Just you and me? Sort of… not as friends?”

The smile that touched your lips was soft—until a sharp crack made you both whip around.

“Harry!” you shouted.

Your best friend was lying on the ground, moaning, a few feet from where a rogue Bludger had smacked into his ribs mid-flight. The rest of the team was sprinting over already.

Ron let out a groan and ran after you, watching his moment vanish like steam.

(And Harry, bruised but grinning later, had the audacity to wink and say, “Timing’s rough, mate.”)

⸻

Attempt #4 – The One with the Exploding Cauldron

This time, it was Potions. Slughorn had ducked out to his office, and the room buzzed with end-of-class chatter and the occasional puff of smoke.

You were scrubbing your cauldron clean, elbow-deep in foam, sleeves rolled up past your elbows. Ron watched you for a second too long before stumbling over.

“Y/N,” he started, wiping his hands on his robes. “Can I ask you something? It’s kind of important.”

You turned, brows raised. “Of course.”

And right as he opened his mouth—

BOOM.

The explosion was so loud half the class hit the floor. Green smoke burst from Seamus’ cauldron and rained boiling potion everywhere.

You shrieked and yanked Ron down behind your desk as people screamed and Slughorn came barrelling back in with his wand raised.

Ron just lay there, heart pounding, potion goo in his hair, staring at the ceiling.

Maybe fate really hated him.

⸻

Attempt #5 – The Final Straw

Which leads him to tonight.

The common room was quiet, wrapped in that gentle, sleepy hush that only came after a long day. The fire had burned down low, casting a warm amber glow across the walls and flickering shadows along the floor. The distant wind outside howled softly through the castle stone, but inside, everything was still.

You were curled up in your favorite armchair by the hearth, a blanket wrapped loosely around your legs, the glow of the flames painting golden hues across your skin. Your book lay open in your lap, one hand lazily turning the pages as your eyes scanned the text—but Ron could tell you weren’t really reading. You looked peaceful. Content. Like you belonged there.

He stood at the top of the dormitory stairs, frozen. Just… looking at you.

You always looked beautiful to him, but in that moment, you looked almost unreal. Maybe it was the firelight, maybe it was the quiet, or maybe he was just too far gone. But he knew then and there—he couldn’t wait another bloody second.

Ron muttered to himself under his breath. “Okay. No Peeves. No Hermione. No Seamus blowing anything up. Just say it.”

His feet carried him forward like they had a mind of their own, the soft soles of his slippers brushing across the rug as he approached. You heard him coming, and when you looked up, your lips curled into a sleepy, familiar smile.

“Hi, Ron,” you said softly.

He sank down beside you on the armrest, the warmth of your body already creeping into his side. He smiled back, but his heart was racing—his mouth dry. He tried to gather the words he’d been holding in for what felt like forever.

His voice came out quieter than he meant it to. “Y/N…”

You tilted your head slightly, your book forgotten.

“I’ve been trying to ask you out,” he said, eyes fixed on the fire, then on his hands, then finally back to you. “For weeks, actually.”

You blinked, amused. “I know.”

That threw him. “You do?”

You gave him a look—fond and teasing. “Ron, you’ve asked me like six times. You just never got to the end.”

He groaned and buried his face in one hand. “Bloody hell, I’m pathetic.”

“No,” you said gently, brushing his hand away so you could see him. “Just a bit cursed, maybe.”

He laughed, but it was nervous. “I didn’t mean to mess it up so many times. But something always happened, y’know? Peeves. Hermione. Exploding cauldrons..”

Ron let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I meant it. Every time. I just wanted to say… I like you. A lot more than I know how to explain. And I want to take you to Hogsmeade, and walk you back, and maybe—I dunno—kiss you. Once. Maybe more. Probably a lot more.”

Your lips quirked. “Just once?”

He chuckled nervously. “Okay, yeah. Definitely more.”

Your hand slid down to his, fingers threading through his warm, calloused ones. “Good.”

And that was it.

No interruptions. No explosions. No bloody chaos.

Just you. And him.

He leaned in—slowly, hesitantly—but you met him halfway.

The kiss was soft at first, like testing the edge of something delicate. His lips brushed yours, unsure, almost like he didn’t quite believe it was really happening. But you responded instantly, your hand curling into the front of his jumper as you deepened it, pulling him closer.

And once you kissed him back—really kissed him—Ron stopped thinking altogether.

His hands cradled your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as though you were something fragile and precious. He tasted like spearmint and nervous hope, and you thought—finally. The world faded around you. There was only the warmth of the fire, the sound of his breath, and the soft little noise you made when he kissed you like he meant it.

When you finally broke apart, both of you slightly breathless, your noses brushed. Your eyes fluttered open, and you stared at him with the softest look he’d ever seen.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered, lips still barely touching his.

He rested his forehead against yours and laughed, cheeks pink, heart thundering. “Yeah,” he breathed. “But it was worth it.”

And then, without hesitation, he kissed you again—once, twice, three times—slow, lingering kisses that made your toes curl and your fingers twist in his jumper like you never wanted to let go.

Because maybe, after all this time… you wouldn’t have to.

"five minutes of heaven"

Summary: Fred risks losing Quidditch unless his grades improve, so his girlfriend sets up a study reward system: 25 minutes of focus earns him 5 minutes of kissing. The deal motivates Fred, turning dreaded study sessions into playful, passionate moments. With her help, his grades rise, Quidditch victories follow, and their romance only deepens — proving she’s both his best tutor and his greatest reward.

Warning: fluff, bit of spicy warmth, no explicit content

“MR. WEASLEY,” PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL said sharply, sliding a parchment across her desk, “can you tell me what this is?”

Fred leaned forward, eyes scanning the red ink splattered across his latest Charms exam.

“…Creative handwriting?”

“That is a failing grade. Again,” she said, lips pursed. “You may laugh your way through classes, but I will not tolerate this anymore. If you don’t pass your next two exams, I will remove you from the Quidditch team.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious! I’m one of the team’s Beaters! You can’t play a game without me! George and I—”

“I can, and I will,” McGonagall snapped. “Being a Beater does not exempt you from academics.”

He slumped back in his seat, jaw clenched.

“And as for you,” McGonagall continued, turning to the girl beside him, Fred’s girlfriend, “since you're top of the class in nearly every subject, I’m appointing you his study partner. Motivate him. Make him focus. And use whatever… methods you deem effective.”

Fred looked at her, lips twitching. “Did she just tell you to seduce me into doing homework?”

Her face flushed red. “Fred!”

“Dismissed,” McGonagall said quickly, waving them off. “Good luck. Merlin knows you’ll need it.”

Later That Night – Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory

The moment Fred stepped into the dorm, he flopped dramatically onto his bed with a groan.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he whined. “She’s trying to rip the bat right out of my hands.”

She followed behind him, carrying a stack of textbooks and parchment. “Well, maybe if you paid attention in class instead of drawing exploding cauldrons on your notes, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“I’ll have you know that cauldron was anatomically accurate.”

She gave him a flat look and dropped the books on his desk. “Sit.”

Fred raised a brow. “You know, I’m more used to hearing that in an entirely different context.”

“Study first. Then… maybe later.”

He perked up immediately. “Define maybe.”

She sighed, but her lips twitched with amusement as she reached into her bag and pulled out a small hourglass. “Alright, listen. I know how your brain works—or doesn’t work, really—so I’ve got a plan.”

Fred sat up, intrigued. “Go on.”

“For every 25 minutes you study without distraction—no jokes, no flirting, no doodling—you get 5 minutes to kiss me. Fully supervised. Full access.”

Fred blinked. Then grinned like Christmas came early.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“This is the best educational system I’ve ever heard of.”

Session One

Fred had just cracked open his Transfiguration textbook when George and Lee strolled into the room.

“Oi, you two look suspicious,” George said, eyeing the books.

Lee smirked. “Studying? That’s new.”

Fred grabbed a pillow and hurled it at George’s head. “Out.”

“Rude.”

“I mean it. Educational emergency. Privacy required.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “What kind of studying requires privacy?”

“The kind that involves kisses as rewards,” Fred said proudly.

George made a disgusted face. “Ugh. You’re bribing him with snogging?”

“It’s working,” she replied sweetly, setting the hourglass down.

George narrowed his eyes. “You’re cleverer than you look.”

Fred shoved both of them toward the door. “Five minutes, lads. Or I swear I’ll hex your beds to scream every time you breathe.”

Once the door shut, she looked at him. “Ready?”

Fred saluted. “Yes, Professor Kisses.”

“Absolutely not my title.”

25 Minutes Later

Fred was unusually focused. He was hunched over a page of notes, lips pursed in concentration, scribbling out an answer to a practice question.

As the final grains of sand slipped through the hourglass, she reached across the bed and turned it over.

Fred immediately dropped his quill.

She didn’t even have time to speak before his hands were cupping her cheeks and his lips were on hers—warm, eager, and devastatingly soft. He kissed her like he meant every second of it, like the time limit made it all the more precious.

She giggled into the kiss. “You're awfully motivated for someone who claimed homework was torture.”

He kissed down the corner of her jaw. “Sweetheart, I’d do an entire N.E.W.T. exam for this.”

Over the Next Two Weeks

Their study sessions became legendary. Not that anyone outside the dorm knew what was going on behind the closed curtains of Fred’s four-poster bed.

George learned to knock first. Lee eventually stopped asking questions altogether.

Fred’s grades slowly climbed. He began answering questions in class. He even passed his Charms quiz—with a smug wink sent her way across the room.

And every time he completed a session, she rewarded him. Five minutes of pure bliss. Sometimes slow and teasing, other times urgent and breathless. His hands would wander beneath her jumper, but she’d swat him with a textbook before he got too ambitious.

“Eyes on the prize, Weasley.”

“I am looking at the prize.”

One Night – A Slightly Longer Break

They’d gone through four cycles—two full hours of study. Fred’s brain was fried. He laid back on his bed, eyes closed, arm over his face.

She sat beside him, flipping through a chapter on defensive spells, when he tugged her down by the wrist.

“Oi,” he murmured, voice husky, “I believe I earned my reward.”

She grinned. “You’re greedy.”

“You’re irresistible.”

She didn’t argue. Their lips met again, but this time there was no ticking hourglass—just lazy, drawn-out kisses, his hand slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing her waist.

When she let out a small sigh, he whispered against her lips, “Merlin, you make it impossible to concentrate.”

She laughed softly. “You passed your quiz yesterday.”

“That was because I imagined kissing you after every answer.”

“See? Motivated.”

“I should fail more often.”

She smacked his shoulder. “Don’t you dare.”

A Week Later – Outside McGonagall’s Office

Fred beamed as he handed her a rolled-up parchment. “Passed. Every single one.”

McGonagall adjusted her glasses and gave him a rare smile. “I’m impressed, Mr. Weasley. And I hear you've been unusually quiet in class.”

Fred smirked. “All thanks to my personal tutor.”

McGonagall glanced at his girlfriend, her expression unreadable. “Whatever works.”

As they left the office, Fred tugged her hand and pulled her into a nearby alcove, kissing her hard.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.

She smiled against his lips. “I know.”

“And I vote we continue the reward system. For… other behaviors.”

“Oh?”

“Like when I go a whole day without pranking Filch.”

She laughed. “That’s never happening.”

He kissed her again, stealing her breath. “Still worth a try.”

Gryffindor Common Room — Later That Night

The fire crackled. Butterbeer fizzed. Laughter echoed through the tower as the Gryffindors celebrated their glorious victory over Slytherin. Fred had scored the final hit that knocked Montague off his broom — clean, powerful, and absolutely legendary.

The party was still in full swing when Fred found her pressed into the corner couch, legs tucked up, watching him with that warm, proud smile that always made his chest flutter. She was still in her cozy jumper, books long forgotten for the night.

He plopped down beside her, cheeks flushed and hair wind-tossed from the match.

“Oi,” he said, nudging her thigh with his. “You see me out there?”

She smirked. “You mean when you nearly took Flint’s head off?”

“Romantic, wasn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, laughing as he leaned in close. “Absolutely swoon-worthy.”

Fred's gaze dropped to her lips. “I played like a bloody champion. You know what that means.”

“A reward?” she teased.

He grinned, voice low. “Exactly. I think I deserve five minutes. Minimum.”

“Mm. I think you deserve a whole lot more than that,” she whispered, tilting her head slightly. “But not here.”

Fred blinked.

And then stood up so fast, he nearly tripped over Lee's legs. “George, Lee. Out. Again.”

George groaned. “Fred, no. It’s our room too!”

“Then find another one. Go cuddle in the library for all I care.”

Lee grinned. “If I go, I want nothing short of a ‘thank you’ card.”

Fred just shoved them both toward the door with surprising force. “I’ll write it on your gravestone.”

Fred’s Dorm – Minutes Later

The door shut with a soft click behind them.

The energy changed immediately. The laughter of the common room faded. The dim glow of the enchanted lanterns cast long golden shadows across Fred's bed as she stepped in.

He was still in his Quidditch uniform—mud-stained jersey clinging to him, curls messy, and the adrenaline of victory still in his eyes.

“You look smug,” she murmured, turning to face him slowly.

“I feel smug.”

“I can tell.”

He crossed the room in two strides, cupping her cheeks and kissing her hard, like he’d been holding back all night. His hands slid into her hair as she melted into him, kissing back with equal fire.

She laughed against his lips. “What happened to the study reward system?”

“This is the victory reward system,” he murmured, voice low and raspy. “Completely different program. Far more intense.”

Her hands wandered up his chest, fingers curling into the collar of his jersey. “Mmm, does it come with fine print?”

Fred smirked, leaning down so his lips ghosted over her jaw. “Only rule: no time limits.”

She let out a soft gasp as he began pressing kisses down her neck—slow, teasing, warm. Her fingers tugged at his jersey, and he stepped back just long enough to peel it off, exposing his freckled, flushed skin beneath.

She raised an eyebrow. “Cocky and shirtless. Dangerous combo.”

Fred chuckled. “Admit it—you’re into it.”

“Oh, completely.”

He grinned wickedly, eyes dark with playful heat. “Want me to prove just how into it you are?”

She reached up and pulled him back to her by the waistband of his trousers.

“Show me.”

Several (Very Warm) Minutes Later

They lay tangled together on his bed, flushed and breathless, his arm draped across her waist, her head tucked under his chin.

He traced small circles on her hip through her jumper. “If I knew Quidditch victories earned this kind of celebration, I’d start training harder.”

She smiled, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone. “Please don’t. I’d like to keep your skull in one piece.”

“No promises.”

She tilted her head to look at him. “You really think you’re invincible, don’t you?”

He leaned in, kissing her forehead softly. “No. But with you around, I feel like I can survive anything.”

Her heart skipped. “Fred…”

He grinned again, gently brushing his nose against hers. “That’s the sap talking. Don’t worry, I’ll go back to being irritating tomorrow.”

She chuckled, nuzzling into his chest. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Outside the Dorm — The Next Morning

George leaned against the doorframe, sipping his tea with a wicked grin.

“You know,” he called through the door, “we really need to start charging you two rent.”

Lee added, “Or soundproofing charms. Just saying.”

Fred groaned, burying his face into his pillow. “Go away!”

George smirked. “Tell your girlfriend thanks for all the ‘motivation’. Your Transfiguration notes were unusually legible.”

“Not my fault she’s brilliant,” Fred muttered sleepily, arm tightening around her. “And mine.”

She giggled quietly against his bare shoulder. “You’re such a menace.”

“But I’m your menace,” he whispered, eyes still closed.

And she couldn’t argue with that.

Did you miss me?

A quiet moment alone.

She thinks maybe she forgot how to live when she realized there wasn't anyone watching her do so. ‪[ Green Light by SereneMusafir ]‬

You Are Half of This World AO3 Link by [redacted] in the Zutara Big Bang AO3 Collection For the @zkbigbang (Created by these amazing people: @rideboldlyride, @soopersara, @likefirings, and @firelxdykatara) Be sure to check out the other artist and their work for this fic: @favlie

Sometimes Katara awakens from a dream and finds herself crying. She can never remember the dream. … Sometimes when Zuko wakes up there are tears soaking his pillow.

[ID: Two colored digital illustrations of Katara and Zuko from ATLA framed with letterbox bars to mimic a film screenshot. 

The first image depicts Katara in a Southern Water Tribe igloo, surrounded by soft furs and decorated pots, various items of Water Tribe life. She sits up in her bed, her hair undone, delicately wiping tears from her cheeks with the ring finger of her left hand. More tears drip onto her right hand, clutching her blanket. She is sad but also a bit surprised at her tears. A soft fire lights the cold igloo with a warm color scheme. Sokka is asleep on the opposite side of the room. 

The second image depicts Zuko waking up in his bed in the Fire Nation Palace. He wakes abruptly, his hair catching up with his body falling around his face, while he clutches his heart through his nightshirt. Tears fall down his cheeks and drip off his face. He is more pained and shocked than Katara. A curtain from Zuko’s canopy bed flutters behind his head, and a crescent moon shines through the slats of the shades in Zuko’s room, lighting him in stark shadows and a cool blue color scheme. /END ID]