#or autmn wear

[winged-wyvwyrm-electricboogaloo]

Cloaks were extremely popular articles of clothing, used for all sorts of things and beloved by many even to this day, so why dont we see them outside of LARP or the big screen? In This Essay i will outline the general timeline of cloaks, becuase i love them and believe they deserve an essay. Fight me, i bite damnit.

Cloaks were spectacular for a myriad of reasons both aesthetically, and functionally, for a little history on cloaks and relevant similar clothing we can go back to Rome, Greece and even the Aztecs. They were used becuase they were extremely simple, take a blanket, pelt or a large leather piece, drap it over the shoulders, clip it using a simple sharp stick, specially designed pins called a penannular brooch, or a simple leather strip or cordage. Serving multiple functions such as the obvious protection from the elements, both while traveling at at night, bundling up supplies and covering the body and any weapons one might carry, they were also used as a form of military uniform, using colours and designs to convey rank, allegiance and occupation.

Cloaks also aided hunters, scouts, etc, by breaking up the human silhouette, a early form of camofluage, which proves extremely effective even to this day. given the right environment and positioning, one could mistake a human for a rock or some foliage from a mere 20 meters in broad daylight, especially for animals with dissimilar eyesight, such as deer. Cloaks were easily draped over the body without completely squishing or ruffling the outfit underneath, especially prevalent during the frilly clothing eras, and provided simple and effective protection from dust, water and what have you. Cloaks also have the added benefit of being easily worn while on horseback, a must have when the only form of travel was hoofing it =3

In the later years, as humanity, technology and society grew more sophisticated, the need for the benefits of the cloak diminished due to several changed in behaviour and environment. With the invention of the sewing machine, clothing became much easier to produce, rendering the cloaks advantage of simplicity less endearing. Working indoors for longer and more often made the cloaks superb protection from the elements equally less of an advantage over other clothing.

With the invention of the automobile the cloaks ease of wear while on horseback a detrimental aspect, due to the cloaks flowy and loose nature, getting dirty from dragging on the ground, getting caught in doors and similar inconveniences. This also rendered the multi-use function of serving as extra bedding and for bundling item for long trips obselete. So seems the cloaks golden age had come to a close.

However, this does not mean we abandoned them completely! The need for a cloak stand in, for everyday use that matched the times, was needed, enter the long coat! With similar benefits to the cloak such as coverage from rain and snow, protecting your clothing under it along with added range of movement with low cut sleeves and staying closer to the body. Cloaks proper stayed around as fashion statements, and formal wear to accompany suit and tie events and such.

Over time, the long coat evolved into coats and jackets and the cloak was phased out of use due the ever changing tides that are fashion and society. However, some cultures still use cloaks for their amazing function and strong presence, such as the american military for galas, banquets, and ceremonies. The italian Carabinieri allow and even issue cloaks as part of their uniform. Campers, hunters, hikers and larpers all use cloaks ocasionally aswell.

Tldr: they stopped being useful, and a better alternative was made possible via evolving technology.

In a later date i may make an essay on why they should make a comback

(i meant to post this like 5 hours ago and fell down an RP rabbit hole i genuinely thought was real for a while, never change tumblr.)

[bamfaholic]

From Eden to Sit at Your Door

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Kurt x Reader | 2.8k words

Summary: Kurt visits home, Munich, and decides to sit across from you. With your limited vision, it takes time for you to catch on to who this man really is. Not that you're given much time at all before your life is in danger.

Summary:

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

Alternate summary: Kurt is on a mission, accidentally causes hijinks, and catches feelings for the reader. Even more hijinks ensue.

A/N: this originally was going to be a bullet hc of a blind!reader x Kurt and now it's a multi-part fic lol. The reader will probably turn into an oc but the cringe cop has me in cuffs

This fic has been posted to my AO3 as well! Support me and find my other works there!

On an Autmn morning, you lounged at your local café, just mere blocks from your flat. The wind nipped at the tips of your ears, rustling stray hairs free. You remained warm, though, with your wool coat and cup of peppermint tea in your palms. The harsh difference of the chilling wind and familiar warmth was a part of this routine you cherished. Slowly raising the cup to your lips, a sip warmed you from the inside out.

The workers knew you, knew your name, your story. Practically blind from birth, you couldn’t recall a time when you didn’t have a thick dark vignette frame your vision. Your eyes were often compared to translucent glass marbles, commonly in distaste. Every now and then you were even accused of being a mutant. You always replied with a scoff, wondering if simple biology had been thrown out the window ever since the Mutant Panic in the 70’s.

Though, it piqued your interest in university. You began to dig to see if mutants were similar, or even no different, than those disabled. Unfortunately, the hoops to jump through to acquire a degree with accommodations surmounted and you had to drop out. Your classmate and friend, however, still often visited to read to you scientific papers, and assisted you in writing a thesis in their free time. For now, you resorted to being an author, as you needed to express your ideas with the world.

Which is why you people watched. Each morning you had your cup of tea and watched the quick blurs and bursts of color, sometimes squinting to really focus on a detail. You listened to their words, their stories. It was all ample ammo for your works. You had fallen so lost in concentration, you failed to notice the man sit down at your table. You took a few more sips, savoring the flavors melting over your tongue. There was a flick of a distinct blue, such an unnatural color, that caught your eye.

“Ah, excuse me.” His German was natural, native, and yet there were inklings of an American influence. “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”

You turned your body to face him, setting your cup down on the coaster. “No, not at all.” You softly smiled. “It’s not often I have company.”

While odd in nature to encroach a stranger’s space, it didn’t bother you. You figured all the other seats were taken; it was a busy morning after all. If he was not to disturb your peace, then you would pay it no mind.

You scanned him up and down. From what you could tell, he was wearing a coat with a hood, and something a deep rich blue beneath. Lots of blue. He must really enjoy the color. Gears began to turn in your head, perhaps he could be a fountain of inspiration.

“Your eyes,” He began softly, appearing to nibble on a pastry, “I don’t think I’ve seen a color like that before.” His voice was bursting with excitement and curiosity.

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek. Here we go... You were prepared to recite the speech you’ve given your entire life but decide to keep it short and sweet. “It’s glaucoma, my eyes shouldn’t look like this.”

“Ah, I see.” Another bite. “I apologize, I have never heard of such a condition before.”

You glance down, tracing the lip of your teacup with your fingertip. “Are you American? I hear it in your voice, but your German is perfect.” You decide to change the subject.

He chuckles, “Have I really been gone that long?” He softly mumbles to himself. “No, no I am not. I’m native to here, Munich, but I have been living in the states for some time. New York.”

“New York?” You raise a brow. “That must be so exciting.” A smile pulls at your lips. “I’ve always wanted to see the city, is it as nice as they say?”

Another chuckle, heartier and from his chest this time. “It is far too glamorized. Very dirty, stinky.” He waves a hand. “But the people there… They are truly one of a kind.”

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

You hear his heart beat a little harder, faster. “Ah, thank you!” His cheeriness returns, and you surmise this is this natural state of being.

 Now this man really has your attention. You curse yourself for not bringing your notebook. You just simply must engage him in more conversation. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’d love to hear about your time in America, where you plan to go and do while you’re here, back home. I hope it’s not too invasive.”

His tone tells on himself, making it clear he’s excited for someone to be interested in him. “Ah, well, in America I have found family.”

There’s a quick arch of blue that blurs behind his head. You blink. Did you just hallucinate?

“They truly are a gift from God.” He shakes his head. “You asked about my time in America, no? Not my family. Ahem.” He clears his throat and straightens himself in his seat. “I was rescued, in truth, I did not have the best life here in Munich. I used to be in the circus.” A smile slips across his lips as he reminisces. “They called me ‘The Great Nightcrawler.’” He spreads his hands out and open in front of him for added effect. “I was a trapeze artist, a great one.”

You hang onto every word, but bust out a giggle, “I assumed as much, with ‘Great’ being included in ‘The Great Nightcrawler’ and all.”

Kurt stumbles over himself, “Ah, yes- I suppose you are right.” He laughs in turn. “But I flew through the air with ease, to deafening applause.”

“Did you enjoy it? It sounds like you were beloved.” You muse.

“Aye, I did.” A beat passes, and his tone suddenly shifts somber. “Doing a performance, anyway. Any other time… It was not so great, the living conditions.”

Your lips form a tight frown. You won’t push himself to share what could be hurtful. The man links his hands together in front of him on the table. “A cage,” He begins. “I was kept in a cage, like an animal. Fed scraps, if anything. Force-fed beer after shows.” A broken, awkward laugh escapes his chest, “I would suddenly be a drunkard, not even knowing where in God’s Earth I was, then thrown into that harsh cold steel.”

You knit your eyebrows together, chewing the inside of your cheek more. A nervous, unhealthy habit you developed when the gears began to turn in your head. “How?” You squeak out. “How is that possible? How could they do that, isn’t it illegal?”

There’s a great, long pause. The shuffle of the pedestrians that wade by fill your ears. “I am a man of God, friend. I entrust in Him my life, my future. If He wished for me to… Endure that trial, then who am I to question Him.”

His answer left a sour taste in your mouth. He was dodging the issue at hand, you both knew that. You take a sharp inhale through your teeth, fidgeting with the hem of your one sleeve. It wasn’t uncommon to find someone faithful, and you had no gripes against Kurt for being so devout, but you just couldn't accept it being used as an excuse for flat-out abuse.

You open your mouth to press him without much thought, but luckily something else ensnares your attention. About twenty feet down the sidewalk, across the street, you hear the chatter of two policemen.

“There he is.” The one on the left gruffs.

“I see ‘im.” The other spits, “Bloody mutant.”

A mutant? Your heart leaps. Despite your infatuation with them, hungry to know more, you nearly never got to interact with one. You whip your head around, hoping that maybe despite your impaired vision, you could spot them in the crowd. Alas, the only strange figure is… The very man seated across from you.

Your heart now pounds in your ears, adrenaline searing through your veins. “Kurt,” You lower your voice, reaching out to grab his hand. “Please, just, trust me.”

“What?” He laughs, “Is there a joke coming? What is with the sudden seriousness, friend?” But as he sees your expression, his body tenses.

“Just walk with me. Do not look behind us.”

You rise from your seat, pushing it in beneath the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Still gripping his hand firmly, you begin to drag him down the street, blending in with the foot traffic.

“He’s starting to get away!” Your ears burn, hearing the police notice your failure to slip away.

It is only now your heart drops as you realize you have no idea what you are doing. Your guess about Kurt being the mutant is confirmed by the police’s reaction, but you didn’t think this far ahead. Where were you even going? What was the end goal? Walk to the end of the earth, hoping the police never catch up?

“Friend-“ Kurt begins, “What is the matter? What is going on?” His words slam into each other a tad, his breath hitching and increasing. He whips his head around, trying to see whatever had spooked you.

“The police,” You begin in a hiss, “They seem to be after you. I heard it.”

“Heard it?” He’s stunned. “Heard it where?”

You quickly yank him into a tight alleyway, a mere inch separates your chests as you face him. “Shh, watch. Across the street, they’re coming towards us. I’m sure they saw us dip in here.” You’re out of breath as your heart pounds against your ribcage. “I heard them talk about a mutant.”

It’s only now, being so up close and personal, do you truly see Kurt. It’s not that he likes the color blue, he is blue. His eyes are a dazzling gold. Two tiny points threaten to peek out from his lips, little fangs. Your eyes drift down, seeing a tail that ends in a pointed spade. You surmise that must have been the blur of blue from before.

“Y-You’re the mutant.” Your voice trembles, the adrenaline putting strain on your body. The realization of the pleasant fellow you spent your morning with being so… Different. You kick yourself for thinking that way, but it’s only result of the propaganda lining the streets. Your eyes are burning holes into him. You hear the blood rush to his face and ears, heart pounding.

You clutch your cane tighter, leaning into it. It’s not the best for you, as not only do you have Glaucoma, you happen to be blessed with the co-morbidity of Sickle Cell Anemia. Your joints are weaker than a healthy individual, and intense exercise, like running from the cops, is ill-advised. Your head swims as the tachycardia hits you like a tidal wave.

“Ah-“ Kurt raises his hands, hoping it eases your panic. “Aye, I am, but I am a friend. I won’t hurt you-“

Something whizzes by, grazing the bridge of your nose. Screams ring out in the street, pedestrians scrambling in every which way.

“Halt!” One of the officers bark, pointing some form of gun at the two of you. “You are being detained, mutant!”

The other steadily approaches, reaching for something hooked to his belt. Kurt’s eyes glance from the officers to you, and he closes the gap, wrapping his arms around you. “Take a breath, this may be disorienting.”

“Kurt, what-!“ You don’t get to finish, gasping as you feel yourself being hurled at a racing speed. It takes you by such surprise, you lose grip of your cane.

A plume of smoke clouds your vision as the smell of brimstone burns your nostrils. You cough, wobbling on your feet. You were dizzy before, but this was tilt-a-whirl level of topsy-turvy. You try to use your cane to steady yourself, but find that your weight is being supported by nothing at all.

You begin to head face first to what’s beneath you, but you’re caught by Kurt, his arm wrapping around your torso. “Careful there, friend.” He softly says, lifting you up. He refuses to release you until he’s certain you won’t go tumbling.

You blink. You were just in the alleyway, but now you’re peering down the city of Munich. The cops are just below you, and you see one officer ready his gun, aiming right for Kurt.

“Kurt!” You lunge toward him, the shingles of the roof unkind to being stepped on. It begins to slip away, sending you back down with gravity.

Another shot rings out. Kurt snatches you again, by your scruff, but he didn’t foresee the hit landing on you.

A curdling scream is ripped from your lungs, you feel the pierce of a needle in your side. In an instant, it feels cold, like liquid nitrogen being pumped in your veins. You look down, seeing a vial attached to the needle. Without much thought, you reach to grab it. Whatever it is, you want it out.

“No, don’t do that-“ Kurt firmly grasps your wrist. “I’m sorry, friend, but not until I know what they just dosed you with.”

                “Dosed?” Your body not only feels frigid, as if you were tossed into a snow storm naked, it’s quickly increasing in mass. Your legs are growing limp.

“Aye.” His jaw locks, his gaze scanning down at the chaos below the two of you. “We must go.” He tosses you over his shoulder and whispers, “I am sorry.”

Another brief burst of frightening motion, another plume of smoke. It feels like being pitched like a baseball at record speeds. Your tea threatens to come back up from your stomach. You groan, rolling your head to the side. It’s strange seeing such familiar buildings from a birds-eye view, but you recognize you’ve moved a few blocks away in an instant.

You suffer a few more rounds of the sickening movement, before it finally ends. You’re in a cold, quiet bell tower. You’ve lost all sense of direction. You could be halfway across the globe for all you knew.

Kurt rests you against the wall, watching as your body slumps. “I am sorry, friend.” You try to move your head up, to hold his gaze, but you can’t. Your arms lay solid on the harsh stone.

Kurt crouches down, moving your coat away to inspect the projectile lodged in your side. “I am so sorry if this hurts. Please let me know.” His voice is so soft, as if he was speaking to a new born. It comforts you. He gently cups the tube in his hand, reading the inscription on the side. “Tch, American.” He spits.

He sighs, forcing a little smile for you. “Good news and bad news, friend.” He gently frees the needle out from you, ripping a pained gasp out of you. “It is just a tranquilizer, you will not die. It also happened to hit your liver, so it will flush out of your system quicker than usual. Bad news, you will be… Like this, for quite some time.”

You can’t even respond. You’re putting all your willpower into focusing on him, keeping your eyes open.

“But fret not, I will keep you safe!” He grins, slipping the tranquilizer into his pocket. “They do not call me the Great Nightcrawler for nothing.” He chuckles, but the worry lines on his face are crisp, even with your vision.

He glances over his shoulder. The chilly air only burns as wind whips across your features. You begin to shiver. When he looks back to you, he scrambles to slip off his coat, draping it on top of you. Underneath, he wears a tight black, red, and white uniform.

Silly, you think, your rational slipping, his circus outfit, here?

“Ah, I am so sorry.” He gently wipes a tear that you hadn’t registered. “You are safe, shh. Rest.” He pats your head.

You gain your senses for a moment, frustration boiling in you. You don’t, can’t, let yourself go. Not here, not now. You blink, again and again, fighting those heavy eyelids.

In astonishment, you watch as Kurt opens your satchel, rummaging around. He pulls out your wallet. Is he… Robbing you? How could he? You grumble in protest, but it falls on deaf ears. He places your wallet back in your bag, laying it gently in your lap.

“Rest easy, friend. I will return, I promise you.”

Smoke swirls in front of you, that now familiar burning smell hits you. The last thing you can recall is noticing a rosary, of all things, resting in your palm. The face of The Messiah watches you as you helplessly black out.

- - - -

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Find the fic here on AO3

Banners by @/cafekitsune

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue September 1, 1961

Antonio Castillo for Jeanne Lanvin Haute Couture Collection Fall/Winter 1961-62. Dorothy McGowan wears a pink-beige Bianchini silk taffeta evening gown. Gloves by Kislav, Hair by Guillaume.

Antonio Castillo pour Jeanne Lanvin Collection Haute Couture Autmne/Hiver 1961-62. Dorothy McGowan porte une robe du soir en taffetas de soie Bianchini rose-beige. Gants de Kislav, Coiffures, par Guillaume.

Photo Irving Penn vogue archive

[getincentstyle]

Jiang Shuying for Dior Lady Art event wearing DIOR Autmn/Winter 2024 collection

[girllblogging777]

Crisp Autmn Match pls!!

I'm a Ravenclaw who loves spending time in the common room and the astronomy tower. My favorite classes are history of magic and DADA and one random detail about me is that I have sm nice jewlery but never wear it

hi love, just posted it !!!

[aggravateddurian]

Clara: Before the Storm

@theviridianbunny tagged me to create a character in this super cute autmn-themed picrew, so I made Clara, as she was in high school.

In 9th grade, Val gave Clara a toy as a gift. Clara used to have short-ish hair in junior secondary, and she used to wear glasses (before she was old enough to get a pair of Zetatech optics).

In the Brother's Shadow (main) timeline, Clara still has this toy.

In the ChorUs timeline, Clara passed this toy down to their daughter.

I think I've bothered enough people with tags this week, so I'm going to pass the game on to you, the viewer (if you want).

[blossomingbabe]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Minnetonka Brown Fringe 3 Pull on Moccasin Leather Boots size 7.

[shopthery1]

Women's Solid Color Cause Streetwear Sweater Zipper Hooded Long Sleeve Sweatshirt Coat Features: 1.It is made of high quality materials,durable enought for your daily wearing 2.Perfect Match with your favorite shorts, leggings, black denim jeans, etc 3.Great for party,Daily,Mountain,I am sure you will like it! Fashion design,100% Brand New,high quality! Season: Winter & Autmn & Spring Gender: Women Occasion: Casual Streetwear Material: Polyester Pattern Type: Soild Color Thickness: Standard Package include: 1 PC Women Coats Please compare the detail sizes with yours before you buy!!! Colors may be slightly different depending on computer and monitor settings Please allow 1-3cm differs due to manual measurement, thanks (All measurement in cm and please note 1cm=0.39inch) Size chart: Size US UK EU Bust Shoulder Sleeve Waist Length S 4 8 34 113cm/44.49'' 66cm/25.98'' 48cm/18.90'' 116cm/45.67'' 77cm/30.31'' M 6 10 36 118cm/46.46'' 69cm/27.17'' 48cm/18.90'' 121cm/47.64'' 78cm/30.71'' L 8 12 38 123cm/48.43'' 71cm/27.95'' 48cm/18.90'' 126cm/49.61'' 79cm/31.10'' XL 10 14 40 128cm/50.39'' 74cm/29.13'' 48cm/18.90'' 131cm/51.57'' 80cm/31.50'' XXL 12 16 42 133cm/52.36'' 76cm/29.92'' 48cm/18.90'' 136cm/53.54'' 81cm/31.89'' XXXL 14 18 44 138cm/54.33'' 79cm/31.10'' 48cm/18.90'' 141cm/55.51'' 82cm/32.28'' XXXXL 16 20 46 143cm/56.30'' 81cm/31.89'' 48cm/18.90'' 146cm/57.48'' 83cm/32.68'' XXXXXL 18 22 48 148cm/58.27'' 84cm/33.07'' 48cm/18.90'' 151cm/59.45'' 84cm/33.07''

[bryanxlawrence]

“Oh yeah, and then we wouldn’t be able to wear our hats anymore! And that’s the most important part!” Bryan laughed at his own corny joke. “So big, they’d bump their heads every time they try to walk into the kitchen,” he nodded with a smirk. Yeah, he had a lot of experience with chefs in the kitchen who always thought their way was best and never wanted to listen to anyone else. It wasn't so fun. "Of course! That's what I love about small towns. And honestly, sometimes the smaller the restaurant, the better. I want to run my own food truck one day," he nodded. "I will keep that in mind," Bryan smiled. "Naw, they are definitely available year-round, just a super special item for the Mid-Autmn festival."

A laugh fell from her lips as Bryan spoke, knowing it was probably nice to be validated for all of the work they put day in and day out. "I bet! Now tell me, how big can a chefs head get?" Minnie loved watching food shows, so she knew that it was important to chefs to be able to get feedback on their dishes. After all, no one wanted to eat something they didn't like. "You're welcome! Always gotta support the locals who make Merrock's food scene what it is." Minnie replied with a smile that matched his. "Of course! You know, if you guys could recreate some of your special moon cakes that you do for the Mid-Autumn Festival, that would be amazing. It'd be cool to see them more often. Unless they're only for the Mid-Autumn Festival then I totally understand."

[fashionablyiconic]

Oscar de la Renta- Autumn/Winter 2021

[barbarasegalandassociates]

Paris Fashion Week Street Style

via Vogue.com

[lisa-j-poole13]

[lokis-tribble-army]

Loki and a top hat.

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue September 1, 1961

Marc Bohan for Christian Dior Haute Couture Collection Fall/Winter 1961-62. Dorothy McGowan wears a black hooded jacket lined inside with white ermine. Black wool dress. Hairstyle by Guillaume.

Marc Bohan pour Chrisitan Dior Collection Haute Couture Autmne/Hiver 1961-62. Dorothy McGowan porte une veste noire à capuche doublée à l'intérieur d'hermine blanche. Robe en laine noire. Coiffure de Guillaume.

Photo Irving Penn vogue archive

[cottonfreakz]

Bodega's full Autumn/Winter 2019 Collection

Yesterday we showed you the video of Bodega’s Autumn/Winter 2019 collection. Today we can show you the collection close ups.

The season’s cut and sew pieces feature utilitarian hallmarks of New England in the fall, like waxed cotton, corduroy, Sherpa fleece and waffle knit thermals. The functionality that outfits so many crisp, early morning activities against a backdrop of scenic foliage and fresh coffee shifts its focus to a more style conscious, modern outlook.

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

HEADCANON

CUDDLING WITH ZUKO

Summary: A small glimpse into cuddling sessions with the Fire Lord.

so in the beginning of your relationship he’s still a bit reluctant to touch you and often waits for your consent before innitiating anything.

“can i kiss you?”

“of course you can,”

he get’s more sure of himself in time.

at the start you will often notice his hand on the small of your back, or around your hip.

especially if he get’s a little jealous.

but as soon as he is completely reassured that you’re enjoying his affectionate touches, you’ll be pulled into a hug whenever you have time to spare.

your favorite thing though is to lie down, resting your head on his chest or the crook of his neck, with his arms around your waist.

one evening, when you’re half asleep you feel him tracing patterns on your back, which became a habit.

until you realised they weren’t simple patterns.

“i love you,” was written all over the skin of your back over and over again, as soon as he thought you were asleep.

“i love you too,” you wispered back the next night, grinning at the imagination of his horriffied face as you succumbed to your sleep.

generally cuddling is one of your favorite things to do as a couple.

and as the years go by, you discover all the positives and negatives about it.

especially after he becomes the fire lord.

the two of you share a large, soft bed with even softer sheets. as soon as the cold weather reaches the fire nation, the hot flames in the chimney crackle softly, illuminating the scene.

but honestly, nothing can warm you up like zuko does.

often he will dress down into some sleeping pants and a simple robe, leaving his chest bare, while you’ll be pulling the blanket up to your nose with chattering teeth.

you whine dramatically and consistently until he finally gives in and get’s in next to you.

you’re all over him in an instant.

and rightfully so.

it’s freezing.

but zuko, of course, in unfazed.

neither by the cool weather, nor by your icy limbs.

you shamelessly use him as your own personal heater.

and he doesn’t mind,

he’d endure anything just to get to hold you.

he often plants kisses against your forehead or temple. and he will pull you as close as posible. he loves the feeling of your skin on his.

sometimes he’ll play with your hair after you massaged his scalp. at times it is very sensitive due to wearing his traditional headpiece all day.

and of course you share kisses. a lot of kisses.

he’ll pepper your whole face with them, when you’ve been apart, and have a reunion. he’ll place a little one on your nose when you hug him for warmth in the middle of the day. he’ll peck your forehead after a long day to comfort you. he’ll spread them on your neck to get a smile and he’ll kiss your lips to prove his love.

you’re clinging to each other.

and he is so warm.

when you’ve entered his arms one time, you’ll never want to leave again.

because this, his warm embrace and your head on his chest, feels safe.

it feels like home.

though your feelings about cuddling with him take a slight change with the seasons.

you might be clinging to zuko’s arm all the way during autmn and winter and still attempt a snuggle during spring...

but what about summer?

it was unbearably hot.

at this time of the year the fire nation truly deserved it’s name.

you just got out of an important meeting that had lasted for hours and all you wanted to do was to jump into the cool pond and swim with the turtleducks.

you were sweating like crazy.

seriously, those clothes had to come off.

but you had many more negotiations ahead of you, so you had to suffer in silence.

to have at least a little relief, you decided to stick your feet into the water.

a relieved sigh left your mouth.

“Hello, love,”

in your alleviation you hadn’t noticed him at all. before you could register what he was doing, he was sitting behind you and pulled you into his chest.

“zuko, no!”

you scrambled out of his hold, almost falling into the pond.

“why not?”

“you’re too hot!”

he smirked.

you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but instead you turned away with a huff.

at first zuko found it funny to chase you around. you were fleeing from his heated hugs and always kept him an armslength away.

sometimes he’d sneak up and tickle you, which earned him an unamused glare more than once.

he found it funny. adorable even.

but not for long.

soon he found himself missing you closeness, your touch, even just the smell of your hair.

he grew incredibly needy.

for the first time ever, he was the one whining.

of course you missed it too. but you still wouldn’t let him touch you. you would be sticky and sweaty in a matter of mere seconds.

so zuko searched for a solution.

and, like many times before, he found it at the turtleduck pond.

he took you swimming at a secluded lake nearby, a habit that soon became tradition.

the cool water helped to balance the heat of zuko’s body and soon you’d found a great option for cuddles in the summer.

other than that you desperately tried to keep to the shadows.

in conclusion, zuko loves touching you. he loves having you near him and your presence helps to ease his nerves even at the worst of times.

and he is so incredibly grateful for your love and support.

he tries to prove that every day.

the fire lord will protect you at all cost.