The air was laced with the scent of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and sweet apple glaze. All of Ponyville had gathered for the annual Autumn Harvest Festival, and the market square had been transformed into a sea of golden hay bales, lantern-lit booths, and scattered leaves that crunched gently underhoof with every step

Doctor Stable stood beside you beneath a string of glowing paper lanterns, his saddlebag now home to a small, caramel-slicked apple he hadn’t touched yet—because every time he tried, he just kept looking at you instead

There was a soft flush in his cheeks, and it wasn’t from the cider he’d sipped earlier. No, it was from watching the way your eyes lit up when the string lights flickered or when the band started playing that upbeat little fiddle tune you loved

The two of you stood near a ring toss booth, its prizes swaying gently in the autumn breeze “Just one more try,” he said with a quiet smirk, rolling up his metaphorical sleeves and lighting his horn. With a flick of magic and the most dramatic squint of concentration, he floated the final ring through the air—and landed it cleanly around the peg

The booth mare clapped her hooves “Winner!”

Doctor Stable turned to you with a triumphant little grin, floating over a plush doll shaped like a little apple-shaped bat pony with tiny wings “For the most beautiful mare at the festival,” he said with mock-serious pomp, giving a low, playful bow as he passed it to you “Doctor-approved for nighttime snuggles.”

You laughed, the sound like music to his ears, and he caught the way a chill made you shiver just slightly. Without missing a beat, he slipped off his burgundy scarf and looped it gently around your neck, his magic smoothing the wool until it sat just right

“There,” he murmured, his muzzle brushing yours for a moment “Can’t have my favorite pony catching a cold. That would be tragic. I’d have to shut down the clinic for a week just to recover.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the lanterns took over the sky, you two wandered down the cobbled paths between booths, his tail flicking lightly against yours with every step — a soft, unconscious gesture, like he just couldn’t help wanting to be close to you in every little way

You stopped at a booth where an old mare was selling baked spiced pears, and Doctor Stable insisted on buying one to share. You both leaned over it on the bench nearby, bumping noses more than once as you took turns. When he laughed, it was soft and full, his glasses slightly crooked from where he’d leaned too far into you

As ponies danced in the square and cider spilled in gold across every table, the world felt a little sweeter. Your coats brushed with every step, the scarf still warm around your neck, and the plush toy nestled under your wing like a second heart

No rush to go home. Not yet. Not when the night still shimmered with laughter, leaf crunches, and the quiet magic of a doctor and his darling, just wandering hoof-in-hoof under the lantern-lit autumn sky