#shes wearing a knitted scarf that matches the mittens

[parfumeuses]

when manon shows up to the 5 yr reunion pls keep in mind that she is wearing a darling pair of mittens bc its winter in the fckin mountains

[desertdollranch]

Getting dressed with Kirsten

It's a bright January morning on the Minnesota frontier, and Kirsten's bedroom is almost as cold as it is outside! She's going to get dressed as quickly as she can in her warmest winter clothes. Kirsten is restless and tired of being kept indoors, so today she'll be meeting up with her cousins Lisbeth and Anna, who have a fun surprise adventure planned for the three of them. Kirsten is so excited!

First she warms her freezing feet over the foot stove--it's full of hot stones and gives off a comforting heat.

She slips her warmed tootsies into a pair of soft, felted sockor that came all the way from Sweden.

She starts with pantalettes that are hemmed in pretty eyelet lace. Even when it's muddy and slushy outside, Kirsten is expected to keep her pantalettes snowy white.

Over those, she puts on a white flannel chemise. In the summer, she wears a lightweight cotton chemise, but in winter she needs the extra warmth.

Next, she puts on a quilted flannel petticoat.

On her feet she wears her thickets and warmest knit stockings, with her most durable leather boots.

Now for the outer layers! She puts on a crisp white blouse and a black woolen skirt with a pretty waistband.

Her sweater was made in the traditional Swedish style that mothers have been knitting for their daughters for many generations.

Before putting her mittens on, she ties up her braids with ribbons that match the waistband of her skirt.

The mittens she puts on match the lovely patterns and colors on her sweater.

The pompom hat also matches!

Kirsten always wears her amber heart necklace given to her by her grandmother.

She finishes her outfit with a bright red woven scarf.

All bundled up now, Kirsten is ready for the surprise adventure that Anna and Lisbeth have promised.....

The perfect sledding hill!

Kirsten's sweater, hat, mittens, white blouse, pantalettes, boots, stockings, and hair ribbons were made by Pleasant Company. Her petticoat, chemise, and skirt were made by my mother when I was Kirsten's age. Her necklace, scarf, and felted sockor (made from alpaca fiber) were made by me.

[dawneternal]

Take the World in Your Hands | Eris x Elain | Four

Summary: Eris's brothers catch wind of his proposal to Nesta. They plan to find and deliver her to their father as a gift, surely winning his favor. Their plan takes a turn when they kidnap the wrong Archeron sister and Eris finds her in the Autumn Court dungeon.

all aboard the crack ship???

Notes: it's the shopping episode!! 🛍️💅 Also I discovered dividers. This one is by cozykitsune

Warnings: none for this part

Word Count: 2.5k

Ao3 link / Masterlist

When Elain woke in the morning, Eris was frying pancakes in the kitchen. Shirtless and barefoot, which seemed very unsafe but admittedly nice to look at. It was a good sign, as well, that the balm had done it's job. The smattering of bruises seemed to be mostly gone, only a few smudges of color ghosting his shoulders.

"Eat up! Long day of shopping ahead," Eris sang, gesturing to the full plate of pancakes and eggs on the kitchen table.

A mug of hot cider sat beside it, and Elain eyed it suspiciously, wondering if he had somehow sensed her dream. Nevertheless, he seemed very chipper this morning and it was a pleasant change from the awkwardness of last night.

Elain savored the pancakes, a little hum of satisfaction escaping with the first bite. Food in Velaris was delicious, but the variation of another court's flavors was a nice change.

"You didn't have to sleep in your dress," Eris said, joining her at the table, "I'm sure the tunic was more comfortable."

"Is that what your guests do? Sleep in your shirts?" Elain looked up at him through her lashes as she took another bite, "I did notice you don't have any nightgowns."

Eris suppressed a grin. Somehow, no one else had figured out that little scheme. Or at least, no one had said anything.

"You don't seem to be a morning person," He said, instead of answering.

"Oh, I am, actually. I love the early morning. But I watch Nyx so often that I've more or less adapted to his schedule, and he definitely takes after his father." Elain sipped her cider, relishing the spices that lingered on her tongue.

"Poor little fellow," Eris clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock sympathy.

Elain emerged from the washroom, dressed, groomed, and bathed. She had decided she liked the cut of Autumn Court dresses. Comfortable, modest, and delicately adorned with embroidery and beads. She had chosen a warm burnt orange and admired the way it complimented the honey-brown of her hair. Eris resisted the urge to tell her exactly how well the wardrobe of his court suited her. Or that he wished she'd wear her hair down, as was the current fashion in Autumn.

Instead, he held out a wine colored-coat for her to slip on, and tucked a knitted scarf around her collar. She found the matching mittens and and hat stuffed into the pockets and tugged those on as well.

"Ready," She said, a little bit muffled behind her layers. He couldn't help his grin then.

Eris began to put on his own coat, but stopped and let out a hiss of pain.

"Are you okay?" Elain's brows knit together.

"I'm alright," He sighed, "Just stretched a little too far on my bad side."

Elain took his coat from his hands and helped him into it, fastening each wooden button for him. He gave her a grateful smile and led her out of the cabin, away toward the edge of the wards. When Elain turned around, the cabin had disappeared. There was not even a clearing where it should be. Nothing but a tiny gap in the trees.

"Neat trick, no?" Eris eyes sparkled.

Elain placed a mittened hand on his arm and looked up at him with furrowed brows. "Are you sure you're up for winnowing?"

"Yes, dear," Eris smiled, "I'll be alright. Not all of us have wings to take us where we wish, anyways."

"How is it so cold here, if we're in Autumn?" She asked, ignoring the pet name. But she did take the hand he held out to her.

"We're very close to the Winter border. Hazelbury is the last Autumn village before the Winter Court border. Its higher up here, so it snows during cold snaps. Ready?"

"Ready."

Elain gripped his hand tight as they winnowed. She was grateful for the barrier of their mittens and gloves, but she could still feel his warmth radiating through her.

They landed among the trees, bits of loose snow falling onto them from above.

"Alright?" Eris asked, brushing snowflakes from her eyebrows. Elain looked up at him and started, forgetting that the plan had been to glamour them both. He was unrecognizable, his red hair now deep brown, the angle of his nose smoothed, his skin clear of freckles. The fire was gone from his eyes. A little ruby teardrop dangled from one ear, as if to compensate for the missing warmth.

"I stole a description from a Sellyn Drake novel," Eris gave her a crooked smile.

"How do you know Sellyn Drake?" Elain laughed. Her eyes drifted to the bustling village ahead of them, a blur of colors and motion. The murmur was pleasant, frequent laughter rising up from it.

"My observational skills are excellent," He said, "And how do you know Sellyn Drake?"

"Am I glamoured?" Elain dodged yet another of his questions, bringing her fingers to her nose to feel it's shape.

"A little, you'll see." Eris started toward the village path, stepping high through the snow. Elain was grateful for her the heavy boots and wool socks she'd been given. The cabin truly seemed to hold everything one could need.

"What do you usually call yourself when you come here?"

"I've never needed to come up with a name. What about you? What would you like to be called today?"

"I suppose I'll think of one in the moment if it comes up," Elain said, blushing at the improper answers that had come to her. None of which she planned on ever uttering out loud.

The bustling crowd flowed around them as they stood on the edge of the cobblestone street - presumably the main street. Worn buildings popped up all around, their once-colorful roofs spreading as far as the eye could see. Lanterns hung from the awnings, and strings of fae-lights wove back and forth overhead, illuminating window displays filled with lovely things.

"General store first," Eris said, pressing a guiding hand to the small of her back. He led her inside one of the wooden buildings, warm air greeting them in the doorway. He gave Elain a smile and nodded toward the displays. "Pick whatever you want."

So, Elain took her time studying the displays as Eris made polite conversation with the shop keeper. She felt a little pang of guilt as she came across a box of pencils in an autumn color scheme that Feyre would surely love. She wasn't even sure if her sister would accept a gift from the Autumn Court, anyways, judging by her reaction to Elain's note. And Nesta was not supposed to know she was here, so she couldn't pick a gift for her, either.

Instead, she picked for herself a maple sugar candy to try, and a few varieties of seeds she had never seen. Perhaps someday, when things were different, she could return with her sisters and shop with them.

Elain dared not make the comparison aloud again, but Eris's shopping habits were very similar to Rhys's. He encouraged her to pick something at nearly every shop they stopped in, claiming it was necessary for the "full Autumn Court experience."

By the time they had made it to the dress shop, his arms were full of bags with handmade cheese and bread, fresh flowers, books, and  candy. Half were recommendations or gifts from the shop keepers, all of whom seemed to recognize and greet him eagerly. Naturally, Elain began to wonder how often he did this and how often he needed to visit the safe house.

The dress shop was no different. Eris flopped down into a chair at the front of the store, letting his arms rest from carrying the heavy bags. A short, older women scurried to greet him.

"Ezra, my love," She cried, planting a kiss on his cheek.

An involuntary, shit-eating grin spread across Elain's face. Eris flashed her a warning look. So he had chosen his name him a Sellyn Drake novel, as well.

"What brings you in today?" The woman asked after she had finished fussing over him.

"My lady is to accompany me to an event in a few days," He gestured to Elain, who blushed and nodded in greeting, "Do you have anything that we could take with us today?"

"Of course," The woman cried, placing a hand over her chest. Her enthusiasm was rather infectious. "I will find a few sections for you."

"I do hope she brings something scandalous," Eris grinned, leaning back in his chair as if it were a throne, crossing one leg over the other.

"I will not wear anything scandalous unless you agree to show just as much skin as I do," Elain retorted.

Eris tipped his head back and laughed. He seemed so at ease here, pretending to be someone else. Someone proud of his court, enjoying a day of leisure in a tourist town. It made Elain's chest ache for him.

The seamstress returned and beckoned Elain to a dressing room. She seemed baffled by Elain's insistence that she could dress by herself, but left her alone nonetheless. It did not escape her that the woman had never asked for her name, leading her to wonder how much she really knew about Eris. How much she knew about guests that must remain anonymous.

The first time Elain looked in the mirror it startled her. She forgot Eris had glamoured her, though the changes were not as drastic as his. The curve of her nose and lips had tilted, eyebrows thicker and straighter, and her eyes shifted more towards a solid green than her own hazel. It was unsettling, though the girl who stared back at her was pretty.

Elain had planned to show each choice to Eris and let him choose. It was his money, after all. But she lost her nerve after slipping the first dress over her head. A moss green silk gown with cut outs around the waist and translucent gossamer sleeves. The skirt hugged her hips and flared out at the knees, a train of shining fabric falling behind her. It was beautiful and skillfully made. But she was not brave enough for the plunging neckline and skin-tight bodice.

She made her way through the rack of dresses, each one-of-a-kind in some gorgeous jewel toned fabric. When she found one that she loved, it took her a long moment of staring in the mirror until she gathered enough courage to leave the dressing room.

It was not anything as revealing as her sisters might choose, but it was tighter and showier than anything she'd normally go for. The plum-colored velvet gown had a full shirt with slits up each side, inching dangerously high on her thighs. The bodice laced up like a corset, the square neckline framing her cleavage with shimmering golden lace. Over the whole gown, swirls of beadwork caught the light and glowed like gemstones. The back dipped low, threatening to expose the dimples at the end of her spine.

"Well?" Elain appeared before Eris, wringing her hands in nervousness.

Eris's eyes snapped up from the newspaper in his lap, his gaze dragging slowly down her body. As if memorizing every detail. He swallowed hard before clearing his throat and announcing, "It's perfect."

Elain padded to stand before the mirror. Eris appeared behind her, dutifully clasping his hands behind his back.

"And what do you think?" He asked, eyeing her furrowed brow.

"It's a bit more...scandalous than I'd usually choose," She said, turning to side and letting the slit in the skirt expose the length of her leg.

"Well we are hoping to cause a bit of a scandal, no?" He flashed a wild, crooked grin.

"I suppose you'll be baring your back in solidarity?" Elain watched him in the mirror, his eyes drifting up and down her form.

"As I promised." Eris laughed, "Now you just need a dagger to match. There's a shop a few doors down-"

"No," The words came out before Elain knew she had wanted to say them. "I want it to be yours."

Eris's eyebrows arched high, a little of his glamour fell and let a few flames through. They burned into her, blush creeping across her chest under the golden lace.

"I want the dagger to be yours. I want to-to have something of yours," Elain stammered.

Eris's eyes were on hers in the reflection. She watched them darken, a muscle in his jaw twitching. One of his hands, despite his best efforts to behave, reached out to rest on her exposed thigh, fingers brushing just underneath the velvet fabric.

"I'll give you a dagger of mine," He purred into her ear, deep voice rumbling in his chest, "if you'll promise to wear it here."

Elain's stomach fluttered, skin heating under his touch.

"Promise," She whispered.

"Go change, little dove," Eris whispered, giving her a gentle nudge.

It took her just a moment to return to herself, to resist the urge to lean her back against him and let his lips brush her neck. Perhaps they would, before their time together was over. And perhaps she was terrible and wicked for wishing such a thing. She moved towards the dressing room as if in a trance.

Elain managed to collect herself before returning to Eris, shoving down the butterflies in her stomach and fanning her face to cool her skin. Eris stood at the counter chatting with the seamstress, No sign of the hunger that had gripped his features before. They had found a pair of matching shoes and enchanted them to fit Elain's size.

"Eris," Elain said as they gathered their bags and boxes.

"Yes?"

"You are not buying me anything else today."

"I refuse to be ashamed of my love for buying things," He proclaimed, "Just dinner, and then we go home."

"Just dinner," Elain repeated firmly.

"And maybe dessert," He grinned.

"Eris," Elain groaned at him but he just smirked.

Eris took her to the edge of a village, leading her to a restaurant with walls of full-length windows. The waiter led them to their own room in the back, a cozy booth tucked into an alcove of glass. A little faelight, encased in a dome of glass, sat on the center of the table. The heavy snowflakes just outside caught the light and glittered as they fell.

"My favorite thing about this place," Eris said after the waiter had left them, "Is that they decide your order for you and have it sent to your table. You don't have to talk to anyone for your whole meal."

Eris tapped the faelight on the table and two mugs of hot chocolate materialized, garnished with whipped cream and chocolate snowflakes.

Elain's heart hammered in her chest. Of course, he had to look gorgeous in the dim light, every handsome characteristic accentuated by the fae light. He had dropped his disguise, the full force of his beauty hitting her like a rough wave. He smiled like he knew what she was thinking, and Elain wondered if it was a good thing or a bad thing that no one would return to wait their table. No buffer for her to insist on propriety in front of.

Because the most troubling thing of this whole ordeal was how easy it all was. Easy to talk, easy to flirt, and so very easy to want him. 

[novankenn]

OMAKE : Oh... Crap-Baskets... HELP?

Joan was so happy. It was the start of the Winter Holiday Break and she was with all her friends in the common room. She had taken the time earlier in the week to do some baking for everyone, and the table was loaded with sweet homemade treats.

But what was more important to Joan was everyone's reactions to the small tokens of appreciation and friendship she had spend a month creating and collecting.

Ruby: Thank you! I love it!

Weiss: This is very thoughtful Joan. Thank you.

Yang: You made this? You made all of these? You go girl!

Joan: Yes.

Blake: I don't know what to say, but thank you Joan.

Joan's smile was beaming as the members of RWBY placed the friendship bracelets she made for them upon their wrists. Each one fashioned around a different Clasp. Ruby a Rose. Weiss a Snowflake. Yang a Sun, and Blake a Book.

Nora: *Squealing* SO CUTE! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

In her hands was a set of small teddy bears, one in each of JNPR's colors, all handmade by her.

Ren: Joan, this is too much.

Ren was sitting with a tranquility guard meditation fountain kit in his lap. If Joan's smile could get any wider her face would split. She was just so happy that everyone was enjoying their presents. That was until Pyrrha opened her's.

Pyrrha: Ummm... I... excuse me please.

Joan's smile faltered as Pyrrha rose from the circle of friends, her gift in hand and walked out of the common room.

Ruby/ Weiss / Yang / Blake / Nora / Ren : ...

Joan: *Sniffles* I ...

(In Argus)

Terra: So this one is from Joan.

Hands a beautifully wrapped boxed to Saphron. Which Spahron takes while giggling.

Saphron: It's a little big to be another coupon book.

Terra: Don't be like that... I remember you getting a LOT of use out of those coupons.

Saphron tore open the gift and opened the boxed. A confused look crossing her face. She sets the box down and pulls out a set of knitted mittens and a matching scarf, both done in red and bronze wool. A spear a shield emblem on the right mitten and one end of the scarf. Matched with a double crescent emblem on the other left mitten and the opposite end.

Saphron: I don't get it.

Terra: Oh, no. I think Joan may have accidentally sent the wrong gift to us!

(Back at Beacon)

Joan tried to enjoy the rest of the little gathering, but she was just not in the mood anymore. She gave the excuse of being tired and wanting to lay down. Everyone knew the real reason, and all silently vowed to have a word... with the Invincible Girl.

Joan entered JNPR's dorm and moved to her bed. She sat facing Pyrrha's bed, and wondered what was wrong with her gift. She never heard the creak of the bathroom door opening, nor the soft padding of bare feet across the floor.

Joan: *Sniffle* I really though she would have liked my gift.

Pyrrha: *Huskily whispering into Joan's ear* I love your gift Joan. In fact I'm wearing a pair of them right now... just for you.

Joan blushed as one of Pyrrha's toned arms slid around her waist.

Pyrrha: *Huskily whispering into Joan's ear* I think the label said these ones were... cherry flavored. Do you want to find out if they really are?

Joan's face went cherry red, as she finally caught on to what Pyrrha was referring to. That was the gag gift she was going to send to Saphron and Terra. A flavored variety pack of edible underwear, and she gave them to Pyrrha, her partner, and crush by accident!

Pyrrha: *Nibbles on Joan's ear before once again whispering* I already texted Nora and Ren... they're going to go into Vale for the rest of the day...

Joan: I... um...

Pyrrha's free hand rose up holding an orange-yellow pair of nearly see through panties.

Pyrrha: *Still whispering* These are supposed to be Sun-kissed Orange... I think they would look delectable on you... darling.

Joan shivered... but she wasn't sure if it was in anticipation or in fear.

/=====/ To EVERYONE... I wish you a SAFE and HAPPY HOLIDAY SEASON!!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Promptober: Day Twenty Eight

Eddie Munson x fem!reader 1079 words.

Eddie was a little surprised when you and Robin decided to take up Nancy’s offer of learning how to knit. He was less surprised when Robin gave up after two days, but shocked nonetheless that his friend had attempted such a time consuming thing in the first place.

But we watched you learn slowly, spending Sundays with Nancy at her house, both of you surrounded by colourful yarn, coming back to Eddie with a satisfied grin on your face and pieces of fluff stuck to your clothes - and on the bad days, a few scratches and bloodied marks from misdirected needles. 

He watched in amusement as some of your creations made their way into your friends wardrobes. The colder October weather called for layers and warmth, and so Dustin and Mike really could say no to the too long scarves you draped round their shoulders. They were mostly navy blue, a little too skinny and the end piece of one side was a forest green, evidence of how you’d run out of wool. 

“It’s avant-garde,” you’d insisted. 

Lucas and Max had matching socks, both a bright mustard yellow with a a tiny sheep stitched onto the ankle. When asked ‘why a sheep?’ by the boy, you’d shrugged and told him it was easier to sew than a demogorgon. Lucas agreed, wore his to his basketball games with pride and even though Max had cringed, she liked to wear them under her boots, the ones she loved to stomp around in. 

Will, El and Steve all got mittens, some missing a finger, some with an extra one or two, but all warm and soft, they each insisted, always trying their best to spare your feelings. So they were happy when you grinned and Eddie was even happier when he spotted Will wearing them to a hellfire meeting one day, the same fondness he felt as Dustin hung up his scarf. 

Eddie felt a little left out, yet to receive one of your handmade concoctions. But then you appeared one night, knocking softly on the trailer door, despite how Eddie and even Wayne had told you that you had a spare key for a reason.  

But the boy found you on the step, face nipped by the chill and you beamed at him, hair wild from the wind. He ushered you inside, took you by the hand back to the warmth of his bed and he wasn’t at all surprised when you toppled down with him, legs braced on either side of his hips. 

Eddie loved you like this, happy in the softest way, smile shy, eager to touch and be touched. So he smoothed his hands over the denim covering your thighs, squeezing at your affectionately. You had orange fluff in your hair and he refrained from commenting on it, ‘cause you were too busy delving into your handbag that you’d laid on his stomach. 

The leather of it was chilly on his bare skin and he flinched. 

“S’cold, babe,” he murmured, lifting it slightly, but you were too busy searching to offer more than a distracted mumble back. 

“I know,” you told him offhandedly, “s’why I’ve got something for you.”

Eddie raised his brows, lips twisted into an amused smile. “Yeah?”

“Uhuh,” you agreed, pulling out some books and pens, scattering them across his bed. “It’s in here somewhere.”

“I thought you’d finished this last week?” Eddie commented, lifting the book by its front cover. The pages flapped and notes fell out, written in ink of every colour. 

“I did, but I forgot what parts were my favourite,” you answered, muffled now, as a knitting needle was held between your teeth.

“Christ, sweetheart,” Eddie muttered, taking the offending object out of your mouth and away from the bare skin of his torso. “You’re gonna do us some damage. What are you even lookin’ fo—”

“Here!” You gasped excitedly, eyes bright as you shoved something colourful at him. “Here. I made this for you. Sorry it took so long.”

The present was a hat, Eddie noted, a knitted thing that actually seemed to be in perfect proportion. It was stripy, each line a different colour, deep reds, forest greens and navy’s, mustard yellow and a dark violet. A pom-pom sat on top, black to match the thicker band that was folded around the stripes and you’d even found a pin to attach to it, a tiny Dio logo that made Eddie grin wide. 

“Baby,” Eddie mumbled, voice soft and sticky with fondness. “Baby.”

You preened, watching his brown eyes turn wide with affection and you clasped your hands to your chest, resting them under your chin as you waited for his verdict. You’d tried really hard to make it perfect. 

“D’you like it?” You asked quietly. 

“You made this? For me?” Eddie asked, voice a little awed. He didn’t get presents all that often, especially one that had that much thought behind it. 

You nodded. 

“I love it,” Eddie declared and you squeaked as he sat up suddenly, your bag falling from between you both as you clung to his shoulders. 

He jammed the hat onto his head with a flourish, curls a little wild and messy as they stuck out from underneath it. He grinned and the bobble wiggled. 

“It fits,” you noted with relief, hands petting at the boy’s hair, trying to tame it a little. 

“It’s perfect,” Eddie told you, hands circling your waist to pull you into his lap more. You were chest to chest, nose to nose and he kissed at your cheek, your jaw. “You’re perfect.”

You thought you were far from it, the bandaids on several of your fingers suggesting otherwise but you forgot about them as Eddie took your face in one big hand, your still cold cheeks squished gently between fingers and thumb. 

He kissed you sweet, warm and tasting like brown sugar and something spiced, all cinnamon and smoke. 

“Gonna wear it all the time,” he told you proudly, beaming, dimples on show. Smiley Eddie was your favourite. “Tell everyone my girl made it for me.”

You ducked your head, shy, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, flushed from the praise the boy loved to shower on you. “Yeah?” You asked to his chest, fingers playing with the chain at his neck. 

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, dotting more kisses to the parts of your face he could reach. “You’re gonna have to hide it from me when summer comes ‘round.”

[daincrediblegg]

all right. since you asked very nicely I'll do an outfit breakdown for our dear girl, complete with pictures because I’ve become a bit of a hoe about victorian clothing since I began this whole fucking thing bc of her. (And everyone kindly thank @thejewelsofmyheart for asking)

Now I will note that some of the photo accompaniments are not quite completely the vibe I was going for sometimes in terms of fabric/color/vibe, but let it be noted these are all from my references I’ve collected on here and on pinterest over months and hey this is what I got if I was talking to a costume designer tho this is the kindof breakdown I would give them

Lady Terror's typical undergarments consists of drawers (notably crotchless- as ladies drawers were back then for what should be reasonably obvious reasons), corset (notably one with the recently invented front clasp closure that would make it easier to do up and undo without assistance- on a ship full of dudes this would be wise), chemise, petticoats 1 (linen), 2 (flannel) and 3 (which she only truly occasionally wears) corded- to give her skirt a bit of extra poof (not a fan of this when the cold gets extreme tho understandably). And those are at least the basic components.

Moving outward it gets a little different from what would typically be worn by women even on a ship, but Lady Terror's whole thing is she's trying to fit in with the men while still holding onto her identity as a woman. So to start, we have a collared shirt and waistcoat (where she also notably keeps her pocket watch, given to her by her father), which she typically wears while she's inside the ship and the climate isn't... fucking dead freezing all the time. in lieu of the vest sometimes she wars a smart red crossover. She also has two knitted sweaters (one a slightly lighter than naval blue - one her father used to wear- , one a handsome cream with a slight puff at the forearm to imitate the women's fashions of the day- knitted by a friend) . Alternatively, she has two thick long-sleeved woolen bodices, one in a more formal style that matches her woolen naval blue skirt (which she typically reserves for dinner with the officers) , and one lighter colored more casually styled one that she can wear with her vest over it (much more practical during the colder winter months).

As for OUTERWEAR she has a long naval peacoat (similar to that which most of the officers wear, save for a little more flare at the skirt to accommodate her skirt- and btw the coat pictured above I actually own), a capelet for when she needs to look a little more feminine and extra formal. Gloves, of course, are a must (one pair knitted, one pair lined with fur, and a pair of fur over-mittens that match her hat), a fur hat that she favors from her time in the Prussian seas, a bonnet (that she loathes), and a long red scarf, knitted for her by a friend back home.

And that just about does it for her everyday outfits while on the ships at least. She has a few more bodices and lighter underthings kept in store on Erebus(including one fancy dress complete with crinoline skirt), which doesn't much see the light of day anymore, but on the few occasions that she had to wear it before the expedition, she enjoyed it quite a lot.

Of course also, in my lady terror energy and inspiration tags I continue to compile and collect some dresses that I think would suit her for formal gatherings. She brought only one of note with her on the ship, but it remains in store for the majority of the story (but allow me to say without spoiling anything: Francis would recognize it on sight). I only had room for one more photo so there you have it. Outfit breakdown of the century. Good night.

[acacia-may]

I love the friendship between Gajeel and Juvia, even though there's not a lot aboutvit in canon, so... can I please request their bond for your game, please? With 💛🧡💚

Aww this is so wholesome, Anon! Thank you so much!! 🥰 I absolutely love the friendship between Gajeel and Juvia too, and I really wish we got to see more of it in the canon. [A/N: It's actually kind of funny that I got this ask because my sister was just teasing me the other day for somehow managing to cram this friendship into my Fairy Tail fic (even though it wasn't really about that) just because I love them so much 😅 but I digress...] I would be delighted to write some headcanons about them for you, and I really hope you will like these! Thanks again for the ask and for playing my game! 💛

Questions from this "Bye Bye Writer's Block" Ask Game

Gajeel Redfox & Juvia Lockser Friendship Headcanons

💛-- Friendship

A long time ago Juvia made a loaf of banana bread and gave it to Gajeel on a whim, and Gajeel's grateful reaction convinced her that it was one of his favourite foods so to this day she goes out of her way to make it for him on special occasions or just to show that she's thinking of him. In an attempt to thank her once, Gajeel tried to bake his own banana bread for Juvia, but it didn't turn out. However, Juvia was very touched by the thoughtfulness of his gesture and offered to teach him how to make it.

The truth is that Gajeel doesn't really care for banana bread--he was merely grateful that Juvia had made him something and was moved by her kindness, thoughtfulness, and generosity. He doesn't ever correct her, however, because he loves how happy she is when she gives it to him and is very thankful to have something they can share together as friends.

🧡-- Childhood/Backstory

Though Gajeel would most likely deny it, he has always felt protective of Juvia in an older brother kind of way and has (albeit secretly) tried to look out for her from their days in Phantom Lord. When Juvia first tried to join Phantom Lord, Gajeel couldn't really understand why someone like her would want to join the Phantom guild in the first place and honestly thought she was stupid a little naive in the beginning. Surprising even himself, however, this really struck a nerve in him, and he decided she deserved to be protected, a duty he took upon himself. Unbeknownst to Juvia, Gajeel really went out of his way to make sure no one else in their dark guild (especially its more rough and unsavory members) messed with her, and this ultimately helped her be accepted by Phantom Lord much more easily and quickly. To this day, Juvia has no idea that Gajeel was secretly looking out for her all this time, a bit like her guardian angel (though he probably wouldn't like that title), and he doesn't plan to tell her. (Panther Lily and Levy have both figured it out, however, and think this big brother side of him is very sweet).

💚-- General

Gajeel has quite the collection of hand-knitted gifts from Juvia. The collection started when one winter, Juvia knitted him a pair of mittens, and even though Gajeel isn't usually the type to wear woolen, winter mittens (he generally gets uncomfortably warm if he bundles up too much), he was genuinely moved by the gesture, especially the time and effort Juvia put into making them for him and kept them in a safe place. Juvia eventually knits a matching scarf and two matching hats, one for Gajeel and one for Panther Lily (with holes cut out for his ears of course). Gajeel keeps all the gifts, but the ones he gets the most use out of are the socks. He wears each pair of socks Juvia knitted for him down until they're tattered, and somehow Juvia always seems to know when his socks are wearing thin because she'll somehow have another pair ready to give him at the perfect time. What Gajeel doesn't know is that Juvia has a whole box of socks she has knitted especially for him for whenever he might need them.

[michelangelinden]

hii hello i have a winter prompt from the list!! i’m so curious what you’d write for number 16 with willie - i can totally picture them being on either side of that scenario lol. hope you’re having a good winter/holiday season✨

Hehe, great choice!!

Here is 16. You caught me building a snowman over a fire hydrant because some jerk keeps plowing them down with his car and you decided to help with Willie, and also Alex for you <33 (but like, from the other perspective)

The prompt is from this list by @innytoes! Thank you @legolasghosty for beta reading

Willex. 1.7k words. rated T (for swearing). Warning: cop mention (but in a humorous context).

As soon as Willie steps onto the part of the sidewalk that is no longer frozen over and slippery, he breaks out into a run. Beanie next to him quickly realizes what’s happening and joins him, leaning forward as she speeds up next to him on all four legs, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

“Yes, let’s go!” Willie almost shouts, her leash gripped tightly in his hand. Their steps are careful, even though the walkway has enough grip for them to run, but he still feels his chest start to glow with carefreeness at running through the cold like this, their dog at their side.

Beanie barks excitedly.

“I agree!” Willie giggles before slowing down when he sees the end of the path, sadly leading into a snowed over part of the sidewalk. He’s breathing heavily and so is Beanie as she bounces around them, still full of energy. They wish they could’ve taken her to the meadow, but he was scared of anything sharp hiding under the snow. So a long walk around the neighborhood had to be enough.

Once he’s caught his breath, he finally takes in the surroundings a bit better, and their eyes fall on a figure not too far away, crouched on the ground, building a snowman at the edge of the sidewalk—right where Willie knows there is supposed to be a fire hydrant.

They can’t help but let out a short laugh. The action is so vile, hiding a fire hydrant inside a snowman, but the guy building it looks to be around Willie’s age and like he’s on a mission, so it seems unlikely he’s just doing it for an ill prank. Curiosity gets the better of him.

Their shoes crunch satisfyingly in the snow when Willie and Beanie approach the guy, and it’s loud enough to announce their presence. The guy looks up, eyes landing on Beanie first, then traveling higher until they catch Willie’s. Willie is momentarily distracted by how adorable he looks, cheeks and nose flushed pink from the cold, blond hair sticking out underneath a light blue knitted hat, matching the light blue scarf around his neck. They half expect him to be wearing matching mittens as well, but his hands, currently glued to the snowman, are bare, equally, if not more pink than his face.

“Hi,” Willie says lamely when he comes to a stop in front of him.

“Hello,” the guy responds, but he sounds a bit unsure. It’s fair, Willie thinks, they just approached him out of nowhere. He has to say though, the confusion looks cute too.

Willie nods at the snowman. “What are you doing?”

The guy blinks at him. He looks at the snowman, then back at Willie. “Building—a snowman?”

That—yeah, fine, Willie walked into that. “Around a fire hydrant?”

The guy’s eyes widen, realizing he’s been caught, and he squares his shoulders. Then he narrows his eyes just the tiniest bit. “Are you a cop?”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Willie. “No,” he says, shaking his head with a grin, “not a cop, just walking my dog.” They lift the leash still in their hand and Beanie perks up at the movement. “I’m on my way back and saw you and got curious, that’s all.”

The guy’s eyes fall back onto Beanie, obediently sitting at Willie’s side with her eyes round and patient, and his gaze softens. Willie shifts, drawing his attention away from the dog and back on them.

“Any reason you’re building your snowman around a fire hydrant? Or—just felt like up for some mayhem?” Willie asks, amusement still clear in his voice.

The guy sighs. He brushes his hands dry on his thighs and then finally gets up, standing opposite Willie. He’s taller than them, shoulders broad in his wool-lined denim jacket, but stands hunched in on himself enough for the height difference to be barely noticeable. Willie finds himself wondering if it comes from insecurities or from having shorter friends.

“There’s this guy who keeps plowing over snowmen the kids in the neighborhood are building,” he explains.

Willie pulls a face. “What a jerk.”

The guy—Willie’s guy—nods firmly. “Right? What a jerk.” He huffs. “Me and my friend’s little brother wanted to put a stop to it by, yeah, doing this, but he bailed on me last minute.”

“Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman,” Willie comments, “stopping the bad guys one snowman at a time.”

It causes a chuckle to fall from the guy’s lips and his chin drops to his chest. When he looks up again, his eyes meet Willie’s, and Willie can’t help but feel a little bit of giddy excitement bubble up in his chest.

“If you want to call it that, I guess, yeah.” He lifts a hand to run it through his hair, Willie assumes, but stops short when he remembers he’s wearing a hat. He pats it a little awkwardly.

“Want some help?” Willie asks. So far the snowman is not more than a big lump of snow. Recognizable as a work-in-progress, but probably not attractive enough to plow it over with a car.

The guy looks a little unsure, Willie almost wants to take his offer back, but then he nods. “Yeah, why not. Then we might get it done before he comes back and notices the plan. Thank you.”

Willie smiles at him. “Of course. Can’t have him getting away with being a jerk.” This time they share a quick chuckle.

Willie secures Beanie’s leash around a street lamp. He doubts she’d make a run for it, but he doesn’t want to risk it, and he also doesn’t want her to accidentally ruin their work by being excited. She whines sadly at being so far away from them, even though it’s only a few yards really, but Willie kisses her head and promises to be back soon.

“What’s your dog’s name?” the guy asks once they start to get to work. He plops the head on top of the snow lump and Willie begins to connect the two elements with more snow.

“Green Bean,” He responds. He notices her perking up again at the mention of her name.

The guy frowns. “Your dog is called Green Bean?”

Willie chuckles. While that’s the usual reaction they get, they hadn’t expected the guy to ask so outright, seeming too anxious for that, but it’s almost like he couldn’t help it.

“Yep, Green Bean. Beanie for short.”

“…why?”

Willie smiles. “Cause she’s the cutest bean out there.” The guy stares at him blankly at the joke. “Also goes with my cat’s name, ‘Zucchini’.”

Now the guy sputters out a laugh. “Sure, a dog called Green Bean and a cat called Zucchini.” He looks over at Beanie, grin still bright on his face. “That’s actually really cute.”

“Thanks,” Willie says proudly.

The guy seems to hesitate, then opens his mouth again. “My parents have a cat called ‘Balthazar’ but he hates me, has tried to bite me too many times.”

Willie sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Ouch, that sucks.”

The guy shrugs, adding another wad of snow to the top of their snowman’s head. “I just avoided him as best as I could.”

“Valid.” Willie nods. “Are you from around the neighborhood?” Willie asks. He pokes a hole into the head to push in the carrot the guy has brought as a nose. “I’ve never seen you around.”

The guy swallows awkwardly. “I only recently moved here.”

“Oh, nice!” Willie is quick to say, not allowing anyone to feel awkward. “Where do you live?” He quickly wonders if that is a weird question to ask a stranger, but they’re clearly the same age, and if he only just moved here, the guy could probably use a friend.

The guy straightens up and turns into a different direction. “Over there, the house with the garage,” he says.

Willie frowns. “Huh? Did the Molina’s move away? I swear I saw them just yesterday.” He can’t have moved here yesterday, right?

“No, uh,” the guy continues, “they still live there.” He pauses, looking back over at Willie. “I live with them now.”

Willie allows the statement to settle for a moment. The guy doesn’t look Latino in the slightest, so unless he’s very white passing, Willie does not assume him to be a cousin. And although they’re still curious—people are never not curious, it’s only human—they just nod.

“That’s cool, they’re so nice,” he says in response. “I used to go to school with Julie actually, but I graduated in summer. Now I’m just working at the cinema,” they just continue, hoping it’ll show him that Willie is not going to pry more information out of him.

It works. “They’re really great,” he says, now smiling softly. “I go to school with Julie now, but I only transferred there this year.”

Willie smiles back. “We just missed each other then.”

The guy blushes a little. “We did, yeah.”

There’s a small silence between them where their eyes scurry over each other, both too anxious to meet the other’s gaze. Eventually, Willie decides to take the initiative.

“I’m Willie, by the way,” he says.

The corner of the guy’s mouth twitches up. “Alex,” he responds.

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Alex,” Willie says. He hesitates for a second, then decides to fuck it, and go for it. “If you ever need someone to show you around, let me know.” He mentally reels back as quickly as that offer left his lips. “Uh, I mean, if you’re with Julie, then she can probably—you probably already know your way around.” He pauses, now flustered, staring at Alex. “Sorry.”

Alex stares back for a second, then his mouth twists into a small smile and he looks to the ground again. If his cheeks weren’t already pink from the cold, Willie would think he is blushing.

“I do, kinda,” he agrees with Willie’s last statement, and Willie feels his stomach sink. “But, uh, if you want, when we’re done with the jerk-trap, we could go and get a hot chocolate at the café. Warm our fingers and stuff.” Now Willie definitely thinks he’s blushing. But so are they.

“I’d enjoy that,” they respond easily. The warm flutter in his chest is back and it’s making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling so wide his cheeks would hurt.

“Cool,” Alex says. He jerks a thumb towards the snowman. “We should, uh…”

“Yep,” Willie agrees.

They both crouch down to get back to work, finishing the last touches of their—

“What did you call our snowman?”

Alex snorts. “Jerk-trap.”

Willie laughs. “Perfect name.”

[hes-writer]

All Too Well

Summary: right person, wrong time

Warning: sweet fluff and angst

Word Count: 4519 words

A/N: listen to ‘All Too Well’ by Taylor Swift first as there are some references throughout the fic. I also added time stamps as this occurs over the course of one year. I’m sorry if it’s confused—I tried my best to make it as coherent as possible ❤️

also, covid doesn’t exist in this au!

‘~~~’ = flashback, ‘—‘ = cut scene

November 2020

Y/N scrambled through the many articles of clothing sprawled in her drawer. The fabrics mingling with each other into a giant mess. It didn’t even include the pile of clothes sitting on the mattress and dripping on the floor.

That was the thing with Y/N. She had a habit of keeping things she didn’t need. She wasn’t a hoarder—although, Y/N did keep more things in favour of their sentimental value. It was her thing.

The fact that she could cradle a t-shirt in her palms and tell someone exactly what happened on a day that moulded the story of that specific shirt was her skill. Y/N liked to think that you could tell a lot about a person on what kind of clothes they wore—whether they were seeking affection or isolating, but not lonely.

In fact, her clothes didn’t just hold meaning for herself—it catered pieces of places she went to wearing the outfit. The things she thought of while adorning it, the emotions that she felt as it covered or—barely—shielded her skin. It was especially important to her to remember the people she spent it with.

Like that oversized, knee-length coat hung near the back of her closet. Y/N barely wore it now but seeing it beneath the splayed doors of the wardrobe, she could see flashes in her head about the last time she had worn it.

The way the pea coat flowed behind her as she twirled in a gentle circle, twisting the fabric slightly and catching tiny drops of littered snow. Y/N could picture the bulbous hat she wore on her head. A tiny pompom weighing every which way with the direction of her head. Her hands were in warm mittens that rendered her fingerless. The snow boots on her feet were crunching with every step of the crisp white snow beneath her feet.

It was truly a winter wonderland when the white weather sprinkled down on her—on them.

Y/N could just about feel the same large grin replicating her face when she snapped out her memory. The ghost of the hung overcoat literally hunted her as it rested in the shadows of her closet.

Y/N blinked twice, slouching her shoulders as she stayed frozen on her knees. The carpet wasn’t doing much to protect her taut skin, but she was in search of something and intended to find it. Except, she couldn’t find it anywhere.

She was sure that there was absolutely no way that she could lose it. It was a loud patterned scarf that frayed at the edges. It was, quite possibly, the ugliest design Y/N had laid her eyes upon. Though, a certain someone had reassured her that she looked beautiful regardless. Besides, the air was way too chilly to think about fashion choices that day.

~~~

December 2019

“Why don’t you pose for me, love?” Harry suggested, holding his phone tightly in one hand. That same hand was pulled free of the warm confines of his leather gloves as he insisted on capturing a few photos of his girl.

“You got it, mister,” Y/N replied, bending down to ball a glob of snow in her mitten-covered hand. She could just barely feel the iciness radiating off the protective layer. “Mind if I add some props?”

She lifted her hand, a raised brow quirking up her knit beanie.

Harry chuckles, “Go right ahead,”

He tilted his phone, ignoring the way his fingers lost feeling at the fingertips in favour of watching the woman of his dreams throw the patch of snow in the air. He captured the picture, admiring the way her back looked. Y/N really was beautiful from all angles. It was kind of counterintuitive, really, since it was snowing after all. But Harry was way too enamoured to question the questionable actions of his lover.

Besides, the gleaming smile on her face was enough to wipe his mind clean of anything other than her.

“Great! Why don’t you turn around?”

The woman looked over her shoulder was a subtle roll of her eyes, “No way,”

“C’mon, love. ‘S not even tha’ ugly,” Harry urged, commenting about the scarf wrapped around her neck.

She scoffed, “The fact that you have to reassure me is proof that it is ugly,”

Y/N played with the thin ends of the fabric, smiling to herself as she heard Harry groan loudly behind her. They were staying at Gemma’s house for the holidays and Y/N had purchased the first scarf she had seen at the store. She had nearly forgotten it if it weren’t for Harry calling her the night before to ensure that she would be warm during their stay. Not only was it cold, but the chilliness was just a tad too crisp to leave the cozy home without some sort of neck protection.

So, here she was dressed all cute from head-to-toe except her shoulders. It was a bit stupid to care so much about an ugly scarf design but Y/N guessed it had something to do with wanting everything to be perfect.

“I don’t think it’s ugly,” Harry quipped, sounding much closer than he had before. “‘Think it’s really nice. Especially the cutie who’s wearing it. Mind if I borrow it some time?”

Y/N couldn’t help the appearance of her love-struck eyes, smiling again when she felt his bundled arms snaked around her waist. Harry was warm, as usual, and he was sturdy as a rock both literally and metaphorically. Standing still in the snow gave her a bit of a shiver but having Harry’s body close was a breath of relief.

He cradled her between his arms, resting his own scarf-covered chin on her shoulder. Y/N knew that he must’ve been bending at the knees to reach that height. She clutched his naked hand between her mittens, directing it to a pocket in the confines of her coat to keep warm.

“Are you talking about me or the scarf?”

“How about both? Make it a two-for-one deal, yeah?” Harry’s voice was a bit hazy.

He felt as though he was captivated in a trance, watching the snowflakes rest gently on the slope of Y/N’s lashes. Her eyes glancing at their joined, mittened and gloved, hands.

She sighed, “Why not?”

Harry gave a silent cheer, leaning little ways into peck her cold cheek with his lips.

“Alright, now why don’t ya’ twirl for me, Y/N?” He instructed, taking cautious steps back in the snow.

“Like this?”

Harry nodded, thumbing the red button on his phone to press ‘record’. He watched as Y/N gracefully spun in a circle. Her pea coat flailed just at knee-level. Her boots squelched the starch white snow.

She did a full 360 before fully facing him with a bright grin. Harry couldn’t be sure how much his heart could take. He switched the setting to capture a photo.

“Exactly like that,”

He wanted to remember this.

~~~

Upon realization that Y/N would not get hold of that specific scarf—at least not for a while—because it was at Gemma’s home miles away from her, Y/N forced herself to clean up the mess she had made. Maybe it was the sudden strike of sensitivity coursing through her but Y/N felt much more emotional than she did before.

Perhaps it was the match-strike ignition of burning memories that flickered through her brain because once she started; she couldn’t stop.

It started with the frosty memory of twirling in the deep snow. Then, it was the flashback of driving from the grocery store to pick up ingredients before heading back to Gemma’s.

Y/N couldn’t deny the butterflies she felt playing that particular memory back because it was one of the moments that cemented a deep-rooted emotion in her.

The feeling of being beautiful—captivating, charming and alluring that Harry failed to notice the red traffic light switching to a reflective green. (‘Oi! Eyes on the road’)

She could still see the blush on his pale skin, realizing that he had been caught staring. And, by the way, the car behind them honked when Harry failed to move through the intersection. (‘Sorry, got distracted’).

And Y/N didn’t want to say anything but she could feel his tiny glances over her when Harry thought that she wasn’t paying attention.

———

November 2020

It has been nearly a year now.

Only a few more weeks until the dreaded date looped around to a full year passing. This time, Harry wasn’t around to celebrate the festivities with her and that ugly scarf was an article that Y/N had desperately missed. Ironically.

It would be just under a year when Harry had taken Y/N to his childhood home—now Gemma’s house as Anne had moved to a smaller place. It was where he excitedly showed her his room—the posters on his walls. The comics he used to read and the CD’s he used to listen to piled on his desk.

~~~

December 2019

“Quite an improvement,” Y/N commented, sitting on the edge of his twin-sized bed. She was referring to his King-sized bed from when she had slept over a couple of times.

“I’d say,” Harry agreed. The wood creaked under his weight as he sat beside her.

They both stared at the wall in front of them, feeling a sense of intimacy as Harry shared the remnants of his life to her.

The day continued when Anne had called the both of them down for hot cocoa, paired with a striped red, green and white candy cane dipped in the mug.

This was the part that hurt Y/N the most. It was almost too painful to remember—to reminisce because it was proof that the couple were so close to making a future together.

It didn’t happen, though.

Despite Anne and Gemma’s stories about a once upon a time, dorky Harry in his glasses (‘He still is’)—his family couldn’t stop referencing Y/N as his future.

“Hope your kids don’t take after his naked habit”

“Maybe your garden will have wild roses”

“Reckon you guys will get a small home?”

It made Y/N’s cheeks heat up. His family already thought of her as part of their family. And one sneaky look at Harry ensured her that Anne and Gemma weren’t the only ones thinking of their future because Harry caught her gaze long enough to give her the answer she was subconsciously searching for.

And when salutations had to be said, Harry and Y/N said goodbye to Gemma and Anne as they were to return to their respective London homes.

It was also the day that Harry had asked Y/N to move in with him.

——

It was exciting, to say the least. Moving in with your significant other was a big step in any relationship. The fact that Harry was a world-renowned superstar almost disappeared from Y/N’s mind because even though his home was a million times larger than her tiny flat—it immediately felt like home.

Harry wasn’t one to dwell too much on changes. In fact, he often referred to it as a sign that things were moving forward. There was no use being stuck in the same place when the universe had so much to offer. So, he was quite glad when Y/N made herself comfortable in his—their—home.

She managed to make the large place feel cozy. The decorations and tiny trinkets she had placed all over the house were really just pieces of her heart sprinkled in a home in which they’d build a life together. He would look at a pastel-coloured tea kettle and question when he had gotten the appliance before realizing that it was Y/N’s. Harry would use the tea kettle to boil water instead of using his Keurig.

___

Their schedules wouldn’t always line up. But Harry and Y/N were too loved-up to care how little time they spent with each other. There was no use in complaining when they could use that time to appreciate each other—for sticking around. For being the same when things moved too fast. For being the rock that both of them needed when times get rough.

Harry’s late studio sessions ran through the early morning when Y/N would be cooped up in their shared bedroom. Fast asleep and hugging his scented pillow. Sometimes he would find her bundled with a blanket on the living room couch. The soft glow of the television highlighting Y/N’s beautiful features. One look at her was enough to release Harry of the tension he felt on his joints and shoulders.

Y/N’s night shifts were the same too. She would return to a quiet house because Harry had fallen asleep. Despite his attempts to stay awake, he was not a night owl at all. Not only to stay up past ten in the evening unless he was out to do work. She had reassured him countless times that she would be okay on the drive home and that he should sleep when his body grew tired.

Harry tried to stay awake. He really did. And Y/N could tell because as soon as she crawls to her side of the bed, Harry’s right arm immediately pats the cold sheets for her as if sensing that she was nearby. He would mumble a quiet murmur of her name, “Y/N? Tha’ you?”

He would receive no verbal response, nor would Harry be able to see his love in the dark of the night even because Y/N hadn’t bothered to switch her bedside lamp on. Y/N was aware of Harry’s sensitivity to light, especially if he was in the dark for a long period of time. Despite that, Harry would hum in satisfaction when Y/N’s body would etch perfectly against his in a silent greeting that yes it is her.

They would fall fast asleep cuddled into one another.

If they managed to stay awake or if sleep failed to come, Y/N and Harry would trudge down the stairs for a midnight snack, squealing loudly as one playfully chased the other down the staircase.

Sometimes it was Y/N walking in on Harry munching on a few biscuits (‘Not such a health nut anymore, huh?’). Sometimes it was Harry catching Y/N making a fruit salad—an array of fruits and vegetables laying on the counter (‘I take credit for this’, he would say.)

But it would always end the same.

With both of them dancing goofily with each other. The refrigerator light was the only source of illumination because neither would be bothered to turn on an actual light. Not when the fridge served as a light source and a container of a variety of edible choices.

One night would end with Y/N slow dancing in Harry’s arms. His hands-on her waist, grazing her skin when her pyjamas too lifted. Their bodies would rest against each other like a stacked jigsaw. Harry’s chin on her head, hers on his broad shoulder. A pair of their hands clasped tightly on one another while the other found purchase with their bodies.

Harry would hum a light tune or sing softly so that they can find their rhythm. They would sway across the kitchen—slowly—crying out in pain and laughter when one would bump their hip on the marble counter. Y/N would listen to his heartbeat thrumming beneath his chest and even though she could only see a bit of him—it was enough.

One night would end with Y/N and Harry goofily flailing their limbs every which way. Boisterous laughter filling the room as Harry practically wheezed at Y/N’s admittance of performing a mean Dougie.

And with the fridge light catching the bits of it, Harry would slap his palm on the counter to catch himself before his knees gave out below him (‘There’s jus’ no way you’re that good’). She proved him wrong.

Neither of them knew when it would be the last time these moments occurred. Until they stopped completely.

——

It was the small changes that brought them closer together. And what would inevitably drive them apart.

It was the fact that even though the couple didn’t see each other much, they still cherished the time they had together because that was enough.

The relationship was built off of mutual trust, respect and honesty. Time was essential but Harry and Y/N didn’t necessarily need a lot of it. They just needed the reassurance of ‘always’. That no matter what happens, however far away they were from each other physically, however, the time they spent apart—that Harry would always come back to her and Y/N would always run home to him.

——

It was late-August when they broke up.

Leading up to it, Y/N had been promoted at her workplace and Harry was no longer spending late nights at the studio. He was sleeping in the studio instead of coming home.

Y/N was understanding. He was on a time-crunch since his second album was due to be released at the end of that year. She wanted to be as supportive as she had always been—if not, more. Harry didn’t need more pressure from her—his partner—who was supposed to be his solid ground in a cracking centre.

It was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

It was fine that they were spending less time than they normally would—not that it was a lot in the first place.

He was still trying. She was still trying. Messages, video calls—hell, even emails were there. The rare times when their schedule would actually coincide were spent peacefully sleeping on the bed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Then, Y/N got promoted. More responsibilities. Training her colleagues. Interviewing assistants. Typing detailed emails. Double-checking spreadsheets.

At the same time that Harry was being pulled left and right to make decision after decision. Finalizing next year’s tour dates. Promos. TV shows. Modelling campaigns. Photoshoots. Interviews.

And like any other, answering later turned into a message left on ‘read’. A missed call manifested into an unopened voicemail. A desperate-measures email was only one of the many in each others’ inbox.

Harry wanted Y/N to come with him on tour the following year but it was a stretch waiting to be snapped.

She couldn’t.

Y/N was starting to build her life, building her career and she wasn’t going to give that up for him just yet. He could go on tour and she could visit when time allows. They knew that. Harry would buy her a ticket and she would be off to see him—when she can.

~~~~

June 2020

“I can’t go. You know that,” Y/N sighed, rubbing a palm over her face.

Harry leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom. “I knew that. ‘Was worth a try though,”

They shared a comforting smile with each other. A hint of reassurance when uneasiness prevailed. There was something about the shift from spring to summer that simmered in their chests.

“Promise you’ll come to visit?”

“Of course,”

~~~

London may be Harry and Y/N’s home but LA was calling for him. Hence, why he spent the summer on the other side of the world. On another continent, across the pond, as some people might say.

It’s just a few months. He’ll be back before you know it, Y/N thought.

Harry will be home for the holidays and they would drive up north to spend it with Anne and Gemma as they did the previous year. The year when Y/N had met them for the first time and despite that, attained their approval to build a future with Harry.

Just a few months and then Harry will be back with her. The same Harry who will gently loop an ugly scarf around her neck. Teasing her about its hideousness before reassuring her that it was ‘as stunning as the woman wearing it’. . .or something. Harry always complimented her.

Yet, Harry never came home a few weeks shy before their scheduled road trip as they had planned. And Y/N did not visit him like she had promised to do.

Though, none of them blamed the other because they were too busy with their own lives to keep up with each other. What once was a loving and caring relationship was not a liability pushed to the back burner.

One might say that Harry and Y/N’s love was a case of wrong timing. They were perfect for each other—but just not now.

Because Y/N had a lot of things going for her and expanding her career. Harry was becoming more and more popular and successful by the minute. It wasn’t like they meant to ignore each other or be oblivious that they were still very much in a relationship with each other. Both Harry and Y/N just had a lot on their plate to even think twice about a relationship.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault—really. Even though their phone call says otherwise.

——-

August 2020

“Y-you what? Y/N, love,” Harry spoke through the phone.

Y/N’s breath hitched at the sound of the beloved nickname. It had been a while since she had heard it.

“I want to break up,” She repeated.

“Why?”

The woman picked at her fingernails, distracting herself from going back to the spreadsheet in front of her. She was in the middle of a break up yet her body urged to continue working.

“What do you mean why?” Y/N sighed exasperatedly. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, Harry. You said you’ll be home before Christmas so we can see Anne and Gemma but—,”

“We don’t have to see them! Y’can fly out here and spend it with me,”

“You know, I can’t,”

Upon letting those slip past her lips, Y/N was starting to question if Harry had disconnected because of the eeriness over the phone.

And as he said that night months ago with the alteration of Y/N’s word, “‘Know y’cant. You promised, though.”

Harry’s voice cracked and Y/N wondered if he was gnawing on his lip like he usually would when tears overflowed the ducts of his eyes. In the distance, Y/N heard a door close shut and she wondered if he had been working—the same as her—before she had decided to call and he had decided to answer.

A knife pierced into Y/N’s chest, guilt seeping in her veins as she recalled the words she had uttered to him. A promise that she would visit if he gave her the ticket. But that was then and this is now.

She wasn’t the head of her department then. Y/N had a lot more responsibilities now and she couldn’t just up and leave whenever she wanted to.

“And you promised to come back. Did you?”

He didn’t.

“Look, can we talk about this later? ‘M in the middle of recording and—“

“When are you not?” Y/N cut him off absentmindedly, splitting her attention on the Excel sheet in front of her.

“Excuse me?” Harry quipped, faintly hearing the clacks of a keyboard. “I know I work a lot but y’do too. Barely even respond to my texts anymo’”

“Says the one who doesn’t answer my calls,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes.

And there it was again. The defeat of silence that proved no matter how much they retaliated against one another—neither of them would win because both of them were at fault.

“I was busy,”

“I am, too,”

“Y/N—“

“What?”

“I-I don’t want to lose you. . .”

The ache in Y/N’s chest grew tenfold. Her fingers momentarily paused over the keys of her laptop board. There was nothing to lose. Not when they’ve already thrown it away.

“I don’t want to either, H. But don’t you think breaking up is better than waiting for something that will never happen?”

“What won’t?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N pushed her chair back, staring at the view of the city from her office.

“Us. Our future. It won’t happen because you’re busy and I’m busy. There’s no right time for us to start, Harry.”

“Who says there has to be a right time, huh?”

“Says, everybody! How are we supposed to build our relationship further when there is no relationship to work on?”

The waves of emotion came crashing down. For months, Y/N had suppressed the feeling of loneliness inside of her. She missed Harry so badly that it hurt her to admit so she went with the temporary bliss of balling it up until it became too much.

“We just need time, Y/N. We don’t need to do it at the right time. Y’know that,” Harry whispered, wishing so badly that this conversation didn’t take place over the phone where he was currently locked in a bathroom stall.

He continued, “You were there, weren’t you? Barely saw you but y’were there. You know how I feel about you and I know you feel about me. We jus’ need time,”

Time.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N  would slow dance in the kitchen at god-knows-hour of the morning.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N blissfully spent their time in the cold, watching her throw the bundle of snow in the air as if it was in slow-motion.

Because time is when Harry would look at Y/N and swear that it has stopped because nothing else mattered except her.

“You know it, you know it,” Harry gulped, breath hitching over the phone. Was he crying?

“All too well,” Y/N responded underneath her breath. She knew that he was right—that all they needed was a chance to reconnect and rekindle the flame put out by distance.

She hated how familiar every memory was to her. She hated how easily she was brought back to the moment it all happened with just the breath of his whisper.

There was no denying the emotion she felt wearing his hoodie and red and black plaid pyjamas at three in the morning. The affection she received wearing those pieces of clothing from the man who owned them. Her sock feet glided against the cold floor. Everything came flashing back to Y/N and it hurt because there was no way she could grant his wish.

“You’re asking for too much, Harry. I-I can’t give you that. You can’t give me—us—that,”

“W-what are you saying, love?” He whimpered, clutching the device in his hand as a last resort to hold onto something that was drifting away.

He knew that she was right. Y/N couldn’t give him that and he certainly couldn’t either.

“We can’t be together. At least, not now. We’re not the same anymore. We want the same things but we’re headed on different paths,”

“But we’ll meet again, won’t we?” Harry’s hoarse voice exemplified that he was—indeed—been crying. And Y/N’s wet cheeks were proof that she was as well.

“Always,”

_____

[gardenerian]

What's Lip knitting everyone for Christmas?

oh. my god 🥺

tami: a cute lil winter hat

fred/new baby: tiny hats with little bear ears on them 🥺

fiona: a similar hat to tami's, with the instruction that she has to visit more so she has a reason to wear the winter hat

ian: pot holders for the new kitchen

mickey: big gay scarf, season one style

debbie: one of those little ear warmer headbands

franny: matching headband

carl: mittens!!!!!!!!

liam: a blanket for his new room 😌

[alwritey-aphrodite]

22. Hats, Scarves, and Mittens

2021 Holiday Blurbs

It wasn’t very hard to convince Santiago to do things that he didn’t want to do. All you had to do was plop your four year old daughter in his lap, have her smile that gap-toothed little smile, and he’d melt and agree to whatever.

Which is why he’s currently standing in your kitchen, wearing a matching knit hat, scarf, and mittens that your mom had sent.

“This is ridiculous,” he groans for the hundredth time, and you just shake your head.

You were in full agreement: this whole thing was ridiculous. But your mother had somehow convinced Lili that she needed a picture of you all in your matching knitwear, and Lili had become aware of the powers she had over her father.

Which is why the two of you are currently standing in the middle of your kitchen wearing knit clothing, even though the AC is on because it’s still almost 70 degrees every day in Florida, even if it is December.

“We just need to take the picture and be done. And we won’t need to wear these ever again… at least not until we go to visit my parents.”

“They’ll just need to visit us, because I fully plan on never wearing this again,” Santi complains, but immediately plasters on a smile when Lili comes into the room.

And while she looks absolutely adorable all of the time, she looks especially cute in the matching purple hat, scarf, and mittens her grandma had sent. She’s grinning from ear to ear, and it’s impossible to contain your smile then.

“Ok, we’re taking one picture outside, sending it to grandma, and that’s it, ok?” Santi and Lili both nod, and you brace yourself for the heat of the outside. As quickly as possible, you set up the timer on your phone, scoop Lili into your arms so she’s in frame, and smile as the camera clicks.

You hurry back inside, pulling off the hat, scarf, and mittens you had on before helping Lili with her’s. As soon as she’s dressed appropriately for a Florida December, she runs back to her room to continue whatever game she’d been playing before she decided she wanted a family picture.

And, you had to admit, the picture was cute, despite the way the knitwear clashed with the palm trees in your backyard. You send the photo to your mom before shutting off your phone.

“That kid’s got us wrapped around her tiny fingers, huh?” Santi says as he brings you a glass of water that immediately starts sweating in the heat. Just a testament to why you shouldn’t wear hats and scarves in Florida, even if it is winter.

“It’s our own fault for making such a cute kid,” you reply before kissing him gently in thanks and taking a big gulp of your water, “we can never say no to such an adorable face.”

Santiago chuckles before going off to play with Lili, nodding in acknowledgement when you say you’ll be there in a minute. But before you go to spend time with your wonderful family, you open up your phone and set that dorky photo as your lockscreen.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Winter Sunshine

Haley (Stardew Valley) x They/Them Reader

A/N: As far as warnings go, the only thing that may not be your cup of tea are the suggestive themes in the last bit of the fic like, last couple sentences. Nothing explicit. Hope you enjoy! Also I’m adding word counts now because it's even a surprise to me how much I’m actually writing on the tiny screen of my phone lol. Word Count: 1,672

“This better be worth it.” Haley grumbled to herself as she trudged through the slushy snow. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself did nothing to fight back the bone chilling wind that burned her nose and cheeks, relentlessly blowing her hair into a tangled mess and undoing the hour long efforts to make it look nice for her farmer.

“It’s their fault I’m out here in the first place. If they have a problem with my hair, I’ll tackle them to the ground and give them a whitewashing they’ll never forget,” Haley told herself. In previous winters, nothing could make Haley leave the warmth of the home she shared with her sister. The snow while admittedly charming, somewhat romantic, did not impress Haley at all. Not when it meant she would have to freeze her ass off. There was no beach combing or sunflowers in winter, ice cream lost its appeal, and her photography suffered because again, it was too cold! Mittens made her clumsy, Haley would hate to lose her camera in a snowbank. Even with her mittens, her fingers felt frozen. It simply wasn’t worth it. But for her farmer, she would brave the ice and snow just to see their stupid, cute, face.

It was only five in the evening, but the sun was already good as gone. The faint glow of (Y/n)’s porch light helped guide Haley through the frigid fields, her boots finally clomped onto the the solid steps of the porch. She stomped her feet to kick the snow free from her boots, thuds resonated off of the sturdy wood.

The noise stirred movement from inside the house. The front door swung open revealing the farmer, looking, in Haley’s humble opinion, overly enthusiastic.

“Haley, you made it!” (Y/n) grinned, stepping out of the warm house and closing the door behind them much to Haley’s dismay.

“What are you doing? You aren’t even wearing a coat, it’s freezing!” Haley scolded, wrapping her arms around the farmer for no other reason than to keep them warm. No ulterior motives here.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be plenty warm where we’re going. So, you think you can walk a couple dozen more yards?” (Y/n) asked, fixing a couple of Haley’s stray hairs.

“Ugh, if I must.” Haley groaned.

“You don’t have to. We could just head inside right now and have warm tea and cuddles. Far be it from me to tell you what you have to do,” (Y/n) laughed and Haley rolled her eyes.

“Let’s just go already. If I have to stand here any longer I’m going to lose my finger and toes to frostbite.” Haley bounded off down the steps, nearly falling backwards after she hit a patch of ice. Luckily (Y/n) caught her, smiling down at the blonde in their arms, they helped her regain her footing and took her hand.

“This way,” they said. (Y/n) would have loved to tease Haley with some cheesy line about falling in love and the like, but Haley’s patience was already running thin. Best not to comment on the close call and just take it in stride.

(Y/n) guided Haley to the opposite end of the farm, becoming more excited with every step, earning a look from their companion that was equal parts suspicious and amused.

“Where are we even going?” Haley asked.

“You’ll see. Almost there. If you look ahead, you might see it.”

Haley squinted against the darkness and sure enough, she saw a large building looming just ahead.

“I can’t believe it. Did you commission Robin to build another barn?” Haley asked, incredulously.

“Not quite!” (Y/n) chirped.

“You have wayyy to much free time on your hands now that winter is in full swing. Just what have you been up to?”

(Y/n) didn’t answer, instead picking up the pace and tugging Haley closer. Ignoring Haley’s complaints until they stood in front of the large glass building.

“Whoa,” Haley breathed out once she finally caught her breath. “How did you manage this?” She asked, not disguising the awe in her voice.

“Let’s just say I got a little help from some friends,” They shrugged, “Do you like it?”

“You didn’t just drag me further out in the cold to look at the outside of a greenhouse did you?” Haley asked. “Let me in and I’ll think about giving you an answer.”

“Alright, you drive a hard bargain.” (Y/n) nodded. “But could you do something for me first?”

“You’re stalling. It’s winter and I’m dying of cold, and you’re stalling.” Haley stated dramatically. “Hey!”

(Y/n) laughed and pulled Haley’s knitted hat over her eyes. They took Haley’s hands before she could pull it back up and give (Y/n) a piece of her mind.

“Come on, just for a second, I promise.” (Y/n) swore. Haley scoffed and allowed herself to be tugged forward.

Haley heard the door open and she couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped her lips as a humid warmth enveloped her body. (Y/n) led her further into the space, then let go of her. They quickly moved behind Haley to shut the door then came back to hug Haley from behind.

“Okay, you can look now.” (Y/n) said. Haley could detect a slight tremor in their voice as they spoke against her ear. Were they nervous? Why?

Haley pushed her hat back and blinked, rubbing her eyes over the harsh brightness of the lights. (Y/n) must have turned them on. Once she regained her sight, Haley’s eyes blew wide at the sight before her.

“(Y/n), oh my Yoba!” Haley gasped.

“Surprise! Do you like them?” (Y/n) asked, wringing their hands.

Haley turned to look at them, her features painted with ecstatic disbelief. “Are you kidding? I love them!” Haley smiled so brightly (Y/n) couldn’t help but match her enthusiasm full heartedly. “I mean, sunflowers, growing in the dead of winter. It’s amazing!”

Haley turned away from (Y/n) again and walked up to the nearest sunflower, growing just as well as it would have on any normal summer or fall day. She touched its petals gingerly and felt its warmth work its way through her very soul. How had she been so lucky to find someone as attentive and endlessly sweet as the farmer behind her?

She felt the arms snake around her again and she eagerly held them to her stomach, anything to show how much this gesture meant to her.

“I’ve been thinking about you and winter a lot lately. You’re right in saying that the season gives me quite a bit of free time.” (Y/n) spoke in a soft tone resting their chin on Haley’s shoulder. “And I thought that maybe, this could give you something to look forward to when the snow and ice have got you down.”

Haley turned in (Y/n)’s arms and wrapped her own over (Y/n)’s shoulders, clasping her hands behind their neck. “I love it, I really do and I love you too, so much. Yoba, how am I ever going to get you something even close to this!” She whined, burying her face in the farmer’s chest.

“Haley, just having you here to share this with is more than enough for me,” (Y/n)’s voice wavered again and Haley looked into their eyes.

“(Y/n), what’s wrong? Why are you so nervous?”

“I also had another idea of how to make winter special for us. Something that would help you have memories to look back on fondly every winter. I’m just-“ they took a deep breath, “man, I was so ready this morning but now that the time is finally here-“

Haley silenced (Y/n) with a kiss. It was chaste, quick, but it helped (Y/n) ground themself.

“Come on, you’ve fought monsters in the deepest, darkest parts of the mines from here to the Calico Desert. You shouldn’t be scared of your own girlfriend.” Haley giggled good naturedly, earning a chuckle from (Y/n) as well.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” (Y/n) simpered. They stepped out of Haley’s hold and reached into their shirt pocket. Withdrawing their fist, they presented it to Haley who analyzed the closed fingers intently. “Haley, in the dead of winter, where all is cold and dark, will you become my warmth, my light, will you marry me?” (Y/n) opened their clenched fist and Haley’s hands flew to her mouth as the bright blue pendant was revealed.

“(Y/n)!” Haley cried, her voice muffled by her gloved hands. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” She lunged forward, grasping (Y/n)’s back for dear life and buried her face in their neck.

“Really?” (Y/n) sniffled holding Haley just as tightly.

“Of course! Nothing would make me happier!” Haley asserted, pulling away just a hair, “Please help me put it on.” She frantically took off her scarf, mittens, coat, and hat, throwing them off to the side. Then she turned away from (Y/n) and held her tangled hair up, allowing her newly betrothed to slip their hands through her arms and secure the pendant around her neck. Haley turned the shell in her hand and laughed breathlessly. She turned and launched herself back into (Y/n)’s arms for a kiss much more involved than the last.

“I love you,” Haley said again, holding (Y/n)’s face in her hands, a small, mischievous smile gracing her lips. She pulled away from (Y/n) and much to the other’s confusion, she walked backwards into the tall sunflower stalks until (Y/n) couldn’t see her.

“Haley?” (Y/n) called after a moment of silence. Somewhere from the back of the greenhouse, (Y/n) could see a shirt get tossed into the air before fluttering back down into the dense vegetation and they couldn’t help but laugh. “Wouldn’t you rather do this back at the house?”

“We’d have to go outside first, by the time we got back I might not be feeling so generous.” Came the faint reply.

(Y/n) watched as another article of clothing was thrown upward and swallowed thickly. They grabbed Haley’s winter coat from the floor and darted into the crops, following the sound of giggles and rustling leaves.

[dvisyhookum]

She wasn't sure why she felt so nervous. It wasn't as if they were going on a date - were they? No. They were simply hanging out, just as they always did. Two friends going ice skating, it certainly wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Daisy made sure she bundled up, wearing the last scarf her mother had knitted for her, along with the matching mittens and hat that were bought to go along with them. She sat down on the bench and laced up her skates, waiting patiently for Tilden to show up.

Her smile brightened as she watched him approach, her hand coming up to wave at him. "Hey!" Daisy greeted, "I got your skates for you already - you're still the same size, right?" She asked, gesturing towards the pair of skates on the ground beside her.

@tildentxxts​

[imaginariumgeographica]

“Geordi,” says Data, “I have something for you.”

The ‘something’ is woolly and yellow and somehow fits perfectly. It’s also far too warm to wear in the Enterprise’s 21.5°C standard temperature.

“What is this made of?” Geordi asks, looking at the toque.  

“Merino sheep’s wool,” Data says. “I made it,” they add, with a subtle touch of pride.

“You made…” Geordi starts.

“The hat,” Data interrupts. “I knit the hat. I did not make the wool. I replicated it.”

“Since when can you knit?” Geordi asks.

“Since approximately fourteen hundred hours,” says Data.

 In the 3.7 hours since Data took up knitting, they have made two hats, a scarf, and a teapot cosy.

“I believe my current garments may be too insulating for the current ship’s temperature,” Data tells Deanna, when they hand her the purple-and-blue scarf. “I intend to experiment with lighter fibres.”

“They’ll be good if we visit anywhere cold, though!” Deanna says. “Thank you, Data, this is lovely.”

“We’ll have to plan a winter excursion on the holodeck,” Will adds, “to test them out.” He is stubbornly wearing his green toque, despite the warmth of Ten-Forward.

Data tilts their head slightly. “I apologise for not testing them earlier, I was unaware that was the practice.”

Will laughs. “It’s an, expression, of sorts,” he explains. “I’m sure they’ll keep us plenty warm.”

“I didn’t know you could knit, Data,” Deanna says. “I tried to learn while I was in academy, but I kept dropping stitches.”

“I have only recently taken up the practice,” Data says, then adds, “I would be happy to teach you, if you desire.”

“You can knit me a sweater,” Will jokes.

Deanna laughs, “I’ll only do that if I want to get rid of you.”

 The Captain’s teapot is covered with a many-coloured striped cosy, and Beverly raises an eyebrow as he pours her tea.

“Did Data make that?” she asks.

“They did,” says Picard. “I take it you’ve heard of their latest hobby.”

“I’ve been a beneficiary of their latest hobby,” Beverly says. “They gave me quite a nice pair of mittens.”

Picard chuckles, “They’ll soon have the whole ship kitted out for an arctic expedition.”

 Worf looks from the orange jumper on his son to the android before him. “It seems…warm,” he says finally.

Data nods in agreement, “It is a blend of Sheep’s wool and cotton.”

“The pattern is,” Worf says, then pauses looking for the right word, “cute,” he finally decides, saying it like it’s a word he does not use often.

Alexander grins down at the cats on the jumper, then up at Data.

“Alexander,” says Worf, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” Alexander says shyly. “It’s very soft.”

“I have already started a matching jumper for you,” Data tells Worf. “It will take slightly longer due to its increased size.”

Worf’s eyes widen. “That is not – ” he begins.

“It should be finished in approximately two hours,” Data continues. Their impassive face somehow gives off the impression that this is non-negotiable.

Worf sighs. “I look forward to seeing it.”

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 6

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to pretend to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader 

Word Count: 3.7k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @fadesbrina, @sweetlyblushedbouquet, @streetfighterrichie, @thatguppienamedbae, @wolfiepirate

Description: It’s time for the first task and you find yourself surprised once again by the tricks up George’s sleeve.

                                                           X

The weeks went by and word quickly spread that George and you were officially an item. Much to your delight, Fleur and Roger quickly faded into the background of the social scene to the point where you weren’t entirely sure if they were still seeing each other. The only noteworthy pairing who came close to your status was Hermione Granger who had managed to catch the eye of the one and only Viktor Krum. 

You had to commend George on his stellar performance. While playing the girlfriend wasn’t a challenge for you, George was completely convincing as a boyfriend. He had a knack for sneaking up behind you and kissing you on the cheek or grabbing your waist, creating a genuine element of surprise for all to see. At first, George would join you in eating with your crowd but you started to drift ever so slightly to spending more time simply with each other for meals. Even when you were alone, it felt as if you were a couple. You would sit on the couch and laugh about nothing for hours and hours. You’d stay up late and talk about life as you rested your head in his lap and he would play with your hair as you drifted off to sleep. It got to the point where you had to remind yourself that you were not actually dating George and this was all a ploy. 

The only person who appeared strictly opposed to this pseudo coupling was Fred. Despite your best efforts, he still suspected you were using George for something. And he was right about that; but he didn’t know the other half of it. So many times you considered telling Fred or instructing George to tell him about the arrangement, but you didn’t think it would help anything. Fred’s opinion would likely remain the same and he would probably just chew out George for keeping secrets from him. Instead, Fred kept his distance from you, and it pained you terribly. You knew that this was affecting their relationship and you only hoped that everything between them would clear up as soon as your deal was over. 

Your plan didn’t have a set timeline, but you knew your arrangement would end with a very public breakup. You would run off and “cry yourself to sleep” while George would mope around the common room in the hopes of accepting some sympathy from Angelina Johnson. You figured by that point that Roger would be sick of pampering Fleur and would consider reconnecting with newly single you. However, gaining Roger’s attention didn’t seem to be a priority to you anymore. You just wanted to help George find his happy ending. 

“Hey you, ready to go?” George interrupted your thoughts and you found him bundled up in a matching hat and scarf set, surely knitted by his mother. You were dressed in a similar manner, preparing for the brisk air about to reach your cheeks. It was a day full of excitement as the first task of the tournament was about to occur. You convinced George that you should sit with Fred and Lee for the task and he reluctantly obliged. You knew things between them had been tense and you wanted them to spend some more time together whenever possible. You walked down to the arena designed specifically for the task. George had hinted that the first task involved dragons in some way, since his brother Charlie had helped to deliver the beasts. You were ushered into the crowd where you saw Fred and Lee sitting with two seats open that they seemed to have saved for you. 

You made your way through the crowd and walked through all of your peers to reach your seats. George took the space next to Fred and squeezed your hand through the mittens you were wearing. You sat down as you waited for the event to begin. The scene in front of you was a rocky terrain with giant boulders and miniature cliffs arranged in an uneven and jagged manner. In the middle of the arena was a golden egg that appeared to be the size of an ostrich egg. You were about to inquire whether George knew anything else about the task when you heard the bellowing voice of Albus Dumbledore amplify through the arena.

‘The first task of this tournament requires our champions to retrieve a golden egg that is being protected by a dangerous creature. This task is designed to test each champion’s daring and bravery, as well as their ability to think on their feet and utilize the magical knowledge and skills they have learned. At the sound of the cannon-“ Dumbledore was interrupted by the blasting of a cannon, which seemed poorly timed and must have been an accident. Yet Cedric Diggory made his way into the arena as he was up first. You cheered for your friend as he sauntered into the unknown terrain and you elbowed George to join you. You knew he was pulling for Harry to win the whole thing, but Cedric was one of your own too. Cedric looked confident, yet very alert, almost as if he was looking for something to come at him. Seemingly out of nowhere, a blue dragon landed on top of the egg that had been sitting in the middle of the arena. The crowd gasped in surprise and shock as they realized what the champions were being asked to do. George whispered in my ear, “That’s the Swedish Short-Snout. Charlie told me all about them over the summer break.” You nodded at his comment but you were unable to peel your eyes from the scene in front of you.

Cedric took a few steps closer to the Short-Snout as the dragon zeroed in on him as a new target. Steam came out of the dragon’s nostrils as he prepared to barbecue its newest intruder. Cedric was quicker though. He cast a spell and one of the boulders lying near the entrance was transformed into a dog, what looked like a German Shepherd. The crowd cheered as the dragon now chose to focus solely on the animal running circles around him in a taunting way. The shepherd made its way toward the edge of the arena and the dragon slowly followed, planning its attack. With each step the dragon made away from the golden treasure, Cedric ran a few steps closer. Just as Cedric was about a foot away from taking the egg, the dragon lost interest in playing games with the dog and headed back toward the egg he was guarding. Cedric froze as the Short-Snout grew angry at his intrusion and flames shot from the dragon’s mouth. You squeezed George’s arm, unsure of what was about to happen to your friend while also feeling slightly amazed at the power of the dragon. You could feel the heat from the stands which meant Cedric must have been close to frying. The flames hadn’t quite reached him as he lunged toward the egg, covering his face with his arm. Once the egg was in his possession, the dragon vanished and Cedric celebrated by holding up his treasure and key to the next task. The crowd went wild with applause, even though Cedric just barely made it out alive. His face was almost entirely black with dirt and soot and it appeared he sustained some sort of burn on his face. Regardless, he had defeated the dragon.

Fleur was next to take on her dragon which she did with utter finesse and minimal difficulty. She enchanted her green dragon to sleep and scurried over to collect the egg. The only mishap occurred as the dragon was snoring and exhaled the slightest bit of fire which ignited Fleur’s light blue skirt. She quickly put out the flames with her wand and continued towards the golden egg. 

Viktor trudged out onto the pitch and bravely faced the Chinese Fireball that was ahead of him. He circled around the dragon, deciding what to do next, as he dodged the occasional flames. George nudged you and you turned to look at his grinning face.

“This is pretty awesome isn’t it?” he said to you.

“Yeah, I mean completely frightening and borderline unethical but very entertaining.” He put an arm around you and brought your head to his shoulder where you stayed until something exciting happened. Viktor had his wand raised and conducted a very forceful spell which seriously impaired the Fireball. It was difficult to determine what exactly he had done, but it seemed to be working. The dragon was wincing in pain and Krum took the opportunity to trudge toward the golden egg. 

“What’s he done?” you asked George, hoping he understood what had happened.

“I think he’s blinded it…” George replied. You nodded and almost immediately George’s suspicion was confirmed as the dragon was stumbling around, disoriented. The beast became agitated and he let out an angry, fiery breath while lashing his tail about, striking Krum to the ground. You gasped and unconsciously grabbed George’s hand with nervousness. He turned to you with a smirk on his face and you casually recovered saying, “Sorry.” He chuckled and shook his head, gripping your hand tighter.

Krum was thrown a few feet across the pitch and appeared to be in pain, however he found his strength again as the dragon blindly trekked around the arena. Krum was determined to collect the egg and once he did so, he let out a masculine grunt and held the egg up, to which all the Durmstrangs began chanting “Krum! Krum! Krum! Krum!...”

“Three down, one to go. How do you think Harry’ll do?” George asked you.

“I mean these three made it look kind of easy. But I don’t know if Harry has that sort of knowledge or confidence even. We’ll see if he can pull it off.” 

A few moments later Harry emerged into the arena, seeming a little shaken and nervous, much like the other champions. His dragon must have been released but was still hidden behind some boulders. This dragon was smart. Harry looked confused, shrugged and started walking toward the egg, under the impression he might just be able to grab it.   

He was wrong. The dragon leaped from behind a boulder and flames and steam were erupting from its nostrils. Harry jumped back and was completely startled. His only move was to hide behind a boulder, which didn’t seem like a long-term solution. The dragon, which Fred mentioned was a Hungarian Horntail, was slowly burning the rock Harry was hiding behind and the outcome seemed pretty bleak. You grabbed George’s arm and nuzzled your head into his shoulder as a reflex, not wanting to see the fiery event occurring in front of your eyes. You suddenly realized you were doing all of this stuff without even trying to act coupley. It was just happening. Perhaps you were overthinking things or you wanted to hide your feelings but as George looked down at you to make sure you were okay, you gave him a wink and a soft smile to assure him this was just for show. Even if maybe it wasn’t.

At that moment, Harry cast the Accio charm and his broomstick appeared just in time. Harry hopped on and flew a circle around the Horntail. Everyone started cheering at this sudden turn of events, including you and George. You  soon realized that Harry didn’t quite seem to have a plan and was simply just escaping the dragon at this moment. Harry’s sudden ability to fly seemed to disturb the dragon and it was fighting the chains holding it toward the ground. Seconds later the Horntail ripped the chains from the ground and this chase suddenly became much more real. Harry recognized the dragon was no longer being held down and flew up over the section where all the teachers were seated and out of the arena towards the castle. The dragon followed suit, taking out the teachers section on its way.

“Well done dragon!” Fred and George shouted in unison, high fiving each other. It was a rare moment with these two as of late and it made you smile. Harry flew towards the castle and all the excitement was gone as there wasn’t much to see. The crowd was hushed and whispering about what might be going on off the pitch. 

“Now what?” you whispered to George. It was a very high tension moment and not being able to see anything was stressful and also a little dull. People around you were speculating the outcome of the event, whispering theories and extremes.

“He’ll make it through this, I think. Harry may be young but he’s got good instincts. And a lot of luck.” 

“Very true.”

You made small talk as the crowd started to lose focus on Harry’s current absence. You spotted Hermione a few rows ahead of you beginning to panic as Ron tried to calm her down, assuring her things were probably fine. 

“What’s that?” you heard Dean Thomas say, as he pointed to something appearing in the sky. The clouded, grey sky became a bit brighter as some royal blue sparks appeared in the middle of the arena. The sparks took the form of a quill and began to write a message in calligraphy.

Y/N –

 Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?

                                                                          George

You felt the blush creeping up your cheeks as everyone turned to look at you, awaiting your answer.

“So, what do you say?” he asked you.

You tried to hide the surprised smile that was spreading across your face. “I would love to,” you replied.

George wrapped his arms around your waist and surprised you with a kiss. You put your arms around his neck in response and you heard the people around you start to cheer and clap. You pulled away and gave George a hug. He really had a way of making you feel special. You knew he was different, but you didn’t expect anything like this. You weren’t even sure you were going to the ball together. You thought he might want to ask Angelina, but apparently not. Maybe this was real.

As you were hugging, George whispered in your ear, “Had to put on a show right?” Of course, this was all for show. Had to make people jealous of you. You assumed it also was a ploy to impress Angelina with his thoughtfulness and romanticism. You were fooling yourself by thinking you actually had something special.

The attention was shifted off of you and back to the arena as Harry slowly flew into sight. The arena erupted into cheers, particularly the Hogwarts section. Harry flew down and scooped up the golden egg, holding it high above his head as if he had just caught the Golden Snitch. The buzz in the arena was wild. Barty Crouch came out to give the rankings based on time it took to defeat each dragon but no one was really listening. Everyone was just happy they had all succeeded and made it through alive.  While the task itself was exciting, you knew there would be some sort of celebration in the Gryffindor common room that would be equally as fun.

                                                           X

The common room was alive with excitement. Gryffindors of all ages were gathered around to celebrate Harry’s victory. He was currently being hoisted up in the air as everyone cheered him on. You and George laid back a little and let the younger Gryffindors grovel over the famous Harry Potter. Harry was enjoying the glory and he suddenly quieted everyone down. He was holding the golden egg in his hand and everyone was waiting to hear his next word.

He casually lifted up the egg and said, “Who wants me to open it?” Everyone erupted in cheers and Harry played dumb and egged the crowd on. Finally he twisted the top of the egg and the sides fell open. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you were taken by surprise when a high pitched shrieking sound filled the room. You covered your ears and turned toward George instinctually. He put his arm around your shoulder and held your head to his chest. Harry struggled to close the egg but once he did everyone sighed a breath of relief. That event seemed to disperse the crowd a little bit and encouraged more socialization. Of course Harry was surrounded by a crowd of friends and admirers. You and George took a seat on the couch away from much of the excitement.

“You have a dress for the ball yet?” he asked.

“I don’t actually. To be honest I kind of forgot about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was so excited for the ball when I was with Roger, but when he ended things I sort of avoided thinking about it. I didn’t know if we’d still be doing this by that point.”

“I thought about that, but this just seemed like the right thing to do. I figured we might still be acting a couple and since people are starting to solidify dates I didn’t want either of us to be dateless.”

“Good thinking there Weasley,” you remarked. You realized you were actually looking forward to going to the ball with George.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he started. He looked…hesitant, and it made you nervous. 

“Yeah, sure,” just as you replied, Fred and Lee came in with some butterbeers. Fred looked over towards you, seeking George’s company. You saw George’s eyes light up and you knew he was dying to join them. “Go ahead, we can talk later.”

“Meet me in the stairwell in 20?” he suggested. You nodded and assured him you would be there. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach. Maybe things were really happening for you. You were trying not to live in a fantasy world and be more realistic about things but everything seemed to be falling into place. You caught George’s eye for a moment as he was chatting with Fred and Angelina, but he soon redirected his attention to the conversation ahead of him. You decided to head to your room and freshen up, looking for a way to waste 20 minutes.

                                                            X

You were making some small talk with Hermione when you glanced up at the clock and realized it was just about time to sneak away. You made a quick exit and scurried away to the spiral staircase within Gryffindor tower. You would be a few minutes early but you were okay with that. You crept quietly down the stairs when you realized there were people here already. You froze unsure of whether you should continue or not, but your curiosity got the best of you. If this was a new couple, you wanted to be the first to know. You cast a charm that kept all your movements hushed as you climbed quickly down the stairs, anxious to see who was…snogging it seemed. 

You could tell you were getting closer to the two lovebirds so you slowed down to ensure you didn’t interrupt them. You spied around the corner and found a familiar red head facing away from you. Your heart dropped. It was George. And pinned against the wall was Angelina Johnson. His hand was cupping her cheek, exactly like he had done with you before, and Angelina was softly moaning and giggling. She pulled away for a moment and whispered to him.

“I have to say, I’m surprised. I did not expect this at all. Especially with everything that’s been going on with you lately. But I’ve been waiting for this to happen for years. I always thought we would end up together and here we are. And now you can ease the tension with your brother.”

You put your hand to your mouth to keep quiet. Even with the charm you cast, you were worried you might make a sound anyway. George didn’t even respond, he just returned his lips to hers and resumed the macking. You retreated, seeing all you needed to see. You tried to hold back the tears that were welling in your eyes. You felt like an idiot. George probably wanted to break off your arrangement because he had won the attention of Angelina. You were dumb enough to think he wanted to become a couple for real. Your heart dropped into your stomach and you felt nauseous. This feeling was all new to you. Even your breakup with Roger didn’t make you feel like this. You panicked with where to go, since you knew the common room was full of people and you certainly didn’t want to be seen like this. On impulse you ran down the hall and made your way toward the Room of Requirement. It was the only place you could think of where you could truly be by yourself.

                                                            X

“Y/N, I missed you last night. What happened?” George found you at breakfast. You were there pretty early and were eating by yourself, still not ready for company. 

“Hey,” was all you offered him. 

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“So about last night.”

“Don’t worry about it, honestly. We created this easy out clause for a reason and I don’t want you to feel guilty about cutting things off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know about you and Angelina and I’m really happy for you guys. I always thought you would make a cute couple. Oh and you’re off the hook for the Yule Ball too.”

“Y/N, I-“ 

“George, don’t pity me. I’m fine on my own. I don’t need you to fake this relationship anymore okay? We weren’t even a believable couple. In what world would I move on from Roger Davies and start dating you,” you snapped. As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you regretted saying them. Truthfully, you were hurt and you were taking that pain out on George. He gave you a look of disgust before storming off. You watched him go and tried to call after him but it was too late. You dropped your head to the table in defeat. You had ruined another relationship and this one was with someone you genuinely cared about. 

[celosiaa]

Hi Connor, I hope you’re doing okay!!!!! 💖Thank you for letting me write this lil fic for your post about leaf pile shenanigans!!!!!! Everything you write, draw and headcanon for the Emmaverse is so perfect and I am so excited to write something within this beautiful AU. This got away from me a bit, but I hope it brings you some joy and you can vicariously enjoy the great outdoors through Jon, Tim, Martin and Emma’s mischief 🍁

From the front window of their new house, Martin has watched the tree turn from a bare-boned thing to blossom to vivid leaves firm even against summer storms. The tree has grounded him through sleepless nights with Emma since her arrival last year, through Tim and Sasha’s return to their lives, through Jon’s nightmares. A lighthouse against the Lonely. The house surveyor had told them to cut it down, unsure of how deeply its roots might reach, but Martin couldn’t bring himself to make the arrangements. He feels that he should give it something back, a repayment for its solidity, and so he has tended to it through the seasons with gentle dedication.

Alas, the leaves are a hazard now that they’ve turned orange and fallen. The rain turns them slippery, and Martin doesn’t want Emma to trip on them when she bundles him out of the door on the mornings he gets to take her to nursery, excited to have her Dad there after a long stint of nightshifts. Nor does he want them to disrupt Jon’s journey to the car on the days that his joints are stiff and he needs his cane. So he sees raking the leaves as part of his duty both to the tree and his family.

Martin falls into a happy and methodical reverie, until Tim interrupts: “You missed a spot.”

Tim is sitting with Jon on two rickety camping chairs they’d dragged out of the garage, ostensibly so they can watch Emma and an off-duty Iris play on the lawn. They’re both holding cups of tea, steaming in the cool, clear autumn air, and they have—until now—been catching up about work. It’s a busy time for them both: Jon is welcoming the new students, and the fire department are running their usual campaigns about safety with Halloween decorations and fireworks. Recently, Tim’s team even payed a visit to Emma’s nursery school to give a presentation, which she had gushed about for weeks afterwards.

Now, though, they seem to be up to something. As glad as Martin is to see them getting along, after so much and so long, he’s not sure he likes the matching mischievous looks on their face.

Martin pauses, leaning on the rake. He’ll humour them, just this once. (It will happen again, of course, but Martin always likes to pretend it’s a one-off.) “What do you mean, I’ve missed a spot?”

“He’s right,” Jon says, schooling his expression into one of seriousness, although the roguish glint lingers in his eyes, “By the drain.”

Martin doesn’t look, still playing along with his most petulant expression. “I started by the drain. It’s spotless.”

“We would never criticise your immaculate raking technique, Martin,” Tim promises, as if offended by the implication.

“We just wouldn’t want Mrs Jenkins complaining about her driveway flooding again,” Jon adds solemnly, placing down his tea, “Are you sure there are no leaves by the drain?”

“I’m one hundred percent sure,” Martin insists, trying not to smile and let on that he’s onto them.

“Because I can count at least seven from here,” Tim says, also balancing his tea on the concrete by his feet.

Jon tilts his head. “I would say eight.”

Tim nods exaggeratedly. “Jon says eight. And he remembered to wear his glasses today, so I trust his judgement.”

Only because Martin physically put the glasses on Jon’s face this morning, while Jon was going through the process of making cinnamon porridge half-asleep and on muscle memory alone. But Martin doesn’t mention this to Tim. Not that Tim isn’t well aware of Martin’s fussing, having—along with Jon—been bundled into a coat and scarf and gloves before being allowed to sit outside, justified by worried mentions of asthma flare-ups and ear infections and setting a good example for Emma.

Martin places a hand on his hip, still leaning on the rake. “Eight, you say?”

Tim and Jon nod in unison.

“That does sound like quite a lot of leaves,” Martin continues.

“You can never be too careful,” Jon says.

“Sometimes, the worst hazards start off small,” Tim tells them, “I would know.”

Martin quirks his eyebrows. “Perhaps I should check the drain, then.”

Jon nods, just once, managing to still look very serious. “Perhaps you should.”

“Well, then,” Martin sighs, taking his weight off the rake and beginning to turn towards the drain at the end of the driveway they share with their neighbours. He makes sure to speak loudly with his back turned. “Where on earth are these eight stray leaves?”

There’s the sound of a scuffle behind him, the camping chairs creaking and skittering on the concrete driveway, and a breathless laugh as Tim and Jon’s feet hit the ground in unison. There’s not much space between the camping chairs and the leaf pile, so Tim and Jon’s run-up is short but effective.

Martin turns just in time to see them launch themselves into the leaf pile, and he’s glad he constructed it on the grass rather than the concrete, because Tim and Jon don’t always think things through when they’re being competitive. Their landing is significantly cushioned, at least, and they end up on their backs, pillowed by red and orange leaves. Jon blows one out of his face and Tim laughs, loud and carefree, the sound echoing against the house.

“I won,” Tim declares.

“You did not,” Jon protests.

“Oh, I very much did.”

“Tim, if you are suggesting that—”

“If I’m suggesting what? That I was the county best at long jump between the ages of eight and eleven, and that gave me a natural advantage in this particular competition?”

Jon props himself up on his elbows on the leaf pile and looks imploringly at Martin, his glasses askew and a leaf stuck by its stem in the left hinge. “Martin.”

“I couldn’t possibly have seen who won,” Martin says, “I was busy inspecting the drain, which—like I said—is spotless.”

It’s at this moment that Iris lets out a slightly confused woof, as Emma abandons the mudpies they’ve been making together to copy her Baba and Uncle. She squeals, her little legs moving at full speed as she waddle-runs towards the leaf pile.

Martin’s too far away. He drops the rake, shouting, “Emma, no!”

But, of course, she doesn’t listen. She has a very specific mindset when it comes to times like this, an unshakable determination: Emma, yes. She runs to the leaf pile, stops clumsily in front of it, and then promptly jumps into its depths. Or, more accurately, she falls face-first into the pile, arms outstretched, her red wellies only just leaving the ground, and disappears through an Emma-shaped hole between where Tim and Jon are lying, looking somewhat dazed by the turn of events.

There’s a breathless moment, a frozen snapshot when the chilly late-afternoon turns momentarily sinister, all long shadows and suspended breezes. Martin doesn’t move, doesn’t hear the echoing clatter of the rake, until there’s a flurry within the leaf pile and then Emma emerges with a raucous giggle.

Everything rushes back into motion, the autumn colours warm and the moment welcoming again. Emma has popped up from the leaf pile like a meerkat from the ground, inspecting her surroundings, an image that is reinforced by her knitted hat with the attached bear-shaped ears. There’s a bright grin on her face, and a lyrical quality to her laugh that tells Martin she’s excited rather than hurt or afraid. Iris is circling and snuffling around the leaf pile, somewhat confused but not overtly concerned, and Jon smiles fondly as he picks leaves from the wool of Emma’s hat while Tim shakes with the force of his own laughter.

Martin’s breath whooshes out of him in relief and he finds himself laughing too, a little breathless. “God, Emma, you—please be careful, sweetheart.”

“I win, I win,” Emma says, clapping her hands together. Her mittens make her applause sound padded and soft.

Martin gives Jon a long-suffering look. Jon looks back, half-apologetic, half-look how happy she is, habibi. And it is true, Emma looks happy, rosy-cheeked and still laughing as Iris now makes her way into the leaf pile, too. It’s adorable. Martin’s losing sight of the possible dangers in favour of the cuteness, the fact that everyone is just fine. Better than fine. They’re happy, all of them.

“Alright, I concede defeat,” Tim announces, “Emma gets the title of Ultimate Leaf Leaper.”

Emma squeals in delight again. Jon pulls her further out of the leaves so she can sit on his lap, giving her a kiss on the cheek before he goes back to picking leaves out of her hat. Tim lifts his hand and Emma reaches across to give him an enthusiastic high five. Martin thinks he is going to melt into a puddle from the joy of it all.

“Stay right there,” Martin says to them, all thoughts of raking abandoned now, “I’m getting the camera.”

*

Later that night, they’re propped up in bed—Jon reading a battered library book about syntax in 19th century literature, and Martin clicking through the photos he’s uploaded from the camera to his laptop. Emma is fast asleep in her bedroom, after a bedtime story about a hedgehog making a home from leaves that Martin hopes will dissuade her from jumping into any random leaf piles she sees out and about, although he promised she can still play in the ones they make outside together.

“I’m definitely emailing this one to Sasha,” Martin says, angling the laptop towards Jon.

Jon folds the book carefully closed and looks at the photo. Tim and Jon are both half-engulfed by the leaf pile, with Emma sitting in Jon’s lap and Iris doing her best to likewise perch on Tim. They’re all grinning at the camera, bundled up in their coats and scarves and hats. It’s adorable.

“She’ll love it,” Jon agrees.

“It’s a shame she couldn’t come today.” Martin chews his bottom lip, shutting the laptop. “I don’t think we have any recent photos of her.”

“You’re not in it either,” Jon murmurs.

“Oh, well, I—someone had to take the photo.”

“Remind me, then,” Jon says, leaning over and kissing Martin’s hair, “To ask someone to take our picture when we go pumpkin picking.”

“Since when are we going pumpkin picking?”

“Since Emma told me she wanted to and I spent two hours Googling places nearby.”

“Not spooky—?”

Jon gives him a withering look. “Not spooky Google, no.”

“Good.” Martin smiles, a little shy. “We’ll get a family photo, then. At the pumpkin place. And we can frame it. And put it on the wall next to this one, and the one I’m going to take of Sasha and Tim next time they come over, and—oh, and that one of Emma on her first day at nursery I keep meaning to get printed!”

Jon smiles softly. “Our family.”

“Our family,” Martin agrees, “I’m really happy, Jon.”

He’s so happy he’s not sure what to do with it. He’s scared it will disappear, like fog through his fingers. He’s scared he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t tell Jon any of this, but Jon seems to understand, to feel it too.

“So am I, Martin,” Jon says, “So am I.”

Martin thinks of the tree, of its changing leaves, its vulnerability to the seasons, the way it antagonised the previous tenants of the house. And yet it’s still there. Martin thinks of his contentment in the same way, as he falls asleep next to Jon: a thing that might change, might grow, might retreat sometimes while blossoming at others, but it has deep roots, and he has no plans to cut it down any time soon, not anymore.

There we go!!!! I played Emmaverse bingo with myself with how many headcanons I could remember and get in here, but I’m sorry if I forgot anything or if the ages/order of events are a bit muddled!!!!! Thank you again for letting me write this, I had so much fun!!!!💖💖💖