#* ALL STORIES ARE ABOUT WOLVES 「IC」

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.

[kennheir]

@lcvedied

‘  grief  is  just  love  with  no  place  to  go .  ’ (freya lcvedied)

SOMETIMES THE GRIEF FEELS NEVERENDING. An endless cycle of tears and rage and regrets, what ifs and what could have beens; if only she'd been faster, if only she hadn't been caught, if only hope had thought through her whole stupid plan through before damning henry AND their mom. But she can't say that, cant make the words crawl out of the hole their absence has left in her chest.

(Can't tell Freya a part of her blames hope for what happened.)

"It's supposed to get easier to deal with, right?" She doesn't remember her dad dying, only stories of a little baby her screaming the Bayou down when it happened, refusing to sleep without something of his for little hands to cluth on to, the scent of safety and home lulling her to sleep. Grandma Mary's was more a slow introduction to the concept of death, when she was old enough to start understanding what that meant.

Her mom's death was cruel, a tragedy that didn't need to happen. She was supposed to be there forever, not burned to death and forever bound from the most important part of herself, sacrificing herself for her daughter's safety. What good is immortality if it can't save the people who matter?

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

hockey player simon riley x f!reader’s relationship, through the eyes of the fans // sort of smau

i was listening to 5sos’ slsp while writing this so!!! sorry i went bonkers 😔 i just love this au sm

simon riley is obsessed with his girl, and it is maddeningly endearing.

of course he’s in love with you, everyone could see even from a continent away, but there is something clingy, possessive, in the way simon hovers around you. like you’d disappear right before his eyes if he wasn’t pressed close; if his tattooed arm wasn’t looped around your waist or his thick fingers were not twined with yours.

it is new, unheard of, even riley’s loyal fans says so, but it’s just so—

nice.

(the word is inadequate, they know, but there’s nothing close that could describe how heart-fluttering his devotion to you is.)

riley has always been a private person, sharing only sparse details of his life. one can even easily locate his earliest instagram post because there’s just about twenty uploads in his account since its creation—from 2017, and it’s a broken hockey stick. even that throw-away picture continues to amass likes as new fans come scouring whatever of him they can find.

his latest post was during last season’s finals’ celebrations—a series of pictures of the boys carrying the stanley cup. the first few pictures were all professionally taken, but the rest splinters into blurred shots of mactavish and garrick, particularly, drinking from the cup from inside of the locker room.

it said: thank you all.

curt, direct, but not any less meaningful.

cut to this year, mid-regular season (january), and after five months of drought, the simon riley posted a picture. and it wasn’t just any picture, but it was a hard launch of his new partner.

it was a selfie, taken by you, the camera angled just slightly. your back was pressed to his chest, and his chin was hooked to your shoulder, and, cheek-to-cheek, the two of you grin up at the camera. the background was distinctly new york, central park, so it must have been taken after the specgru’s game against the rangers (0-4 for the specgru).

for the caption, he wrote: she’s never been here before.

in an instant, all of the speculations were confirmed—the most eligible bachelor of the franchise is, finally, in an official relationship.

news articles popped up after that, speculations bloating at the shocking news. some people have even said that they’re sure they’ve seen you prior to the announcement—weren’t you that one fan simon riley was flirting with while he was on ice, mid-game?

(you were.

you were even one of the people that was tagged in johnny’s story before it got preemptively taken down; and the same person seen with the other WAGs, sprinkles of your silhouette seen on pictures like the ones that are taken on the days when the franchise flies them for game nights or the countless ones during the unveiling of the season’s WAGs jackets.

you have been a part of their circle even before the world knew who you were and, somehow, that was comforting; how simon riley had not thrown you to the wolves—or vultures, as mactavish snarled when they’ve hounded him about his fiancee’s abrupt end of her season in the FIVB, like her health wasn’t the priority over her career—and instead made sure you were surrounded by people who knew how to survive amidst the scrutiny.)

and, just like that, the dam called simon-riley’s-secret-album-of-you broke.

what had been a sporadic activity in his account exploded into series of posts, one update every week. it was a whirlwind of excitement because no one from the hockey world has ever seen this much of simon riley’s life.

he was always unapproachable, distant, like there’s always a wall between him and the rest of the world. like in exchange of being called the living legend, the guiding star, simon riley gets to shirk away from the public whenever he chooses. and who can fault him for that? riley’s career has always been heavily documented—people knew him even before he was drafted into the league, they had betted on his rookie year, and then had put him in a lonely pedestal. so of course he is fiercely protective of his privacy.

only a select few get to truly know him, only a select few have stories of simon that isn’t about the ice or hockey or his in-the-works legacy. only a select few see him beyond his crown, and now he’s giving a piece of his true self to the world because of you.

because you are worth showing off.

because life with you is worth celebrating.

.

riley41

[it’s a candid image of you standing on the balcony, wearing a too-big of a shirt that is getting ruffled by the wind and pyjama pants, and leaning over the railing as you stare at the scenery. you’re all silhouette because your body is devoured by the orange rays of the sunrise, its tendrils spilling into the wooden floors of the hotel room.]

liked by jmactavish.91, reyenzo14, and others

riley41 ibiza

.

riley41

[it’s a series. the first image is of the two of you on his motorcycle, the picture taken from simon’s bike’s camera. you’re both wearing tinted helmets and leather gears, the background a blur of colours which indicates that this was taken mid-ride. you’re gripping him tightly and your body is almost fully-covered by his bulk, leaving only the top half of your helmet to be seen peering from his shoulders.

the second image is of the beach. it’s dusk, and the sky is an explosion of pinks and purples and blues.

the third image is a selfie with your visors up. you’re looking at the camera with a shy smile, your eyes squinted because of how bright it still is, while simon only has his eyes on you.]

liked by pricejhn2, alexkeller_, and others

riley41 vroom

.

riley41

[it’s a mirror selfie of the two of you, with simon taking the photo. the background is notably his house. your back is facing the mirror, your head tilted to rest on his shoulder, while his arm is curled around your waist. you’re wearing this season’s WAG jacket—it’s black and green, their colours. the pose now makes sense because you’re showing off the back of the jacket that spells out RILEY 41 in white. simon’s wearing their away-jersey.]

liked by kylegarrick, konig_76, and others

riley41 game six let’s go

.

riley41

[it’s a video; the angle shows that it is taken by someone else. you and simon are hugging, and are swaying lightly as the two of you dance to the faint sound of music booming from somewhere behind the camera. simon’s mouthing the lyrics to your ear, his cheeks flushed like he’s buzzed from drinking, while you giggle and softly rub your palm at his back.]

liked by jmactavish.91, kylegarrick, and others

riley41 my favourite person

.

.

yourname

[it’s a candid picture you’ve taken of simon sleeping while he uses your lap as pillow. the angle captures the way your fingers are playing with his hair and scratching his scalp gently. the picture is a little blurry because there’s not enough light to properly focus the lens.]

liked by riley41, jjoanne.spam, and others

yourname im the happiest when im with him

[bg3galore]

Sleeping headcanons

Wyll

-Will hum you a soft tune and rub shapes into your back, while you're settling down for the night.

-Would definitely tell you stories of his life growing up and about his dreams for the future, while you listen closely to his breathing; until you fall asleep.

-Always kisses your forehead before falling asleep.

-Chuckles softly to himself every time you fall asleep before him and will take it as an opportunity to watch your sweet face sleeping; wondering if you're dreaming and what about.

Karlach

-Is a loud snorer and a very deep sleeper

-The perfect cuddler, especially for a harsh winter night; that infernal engine will actually be put to a good cause- comforting the two of you from the prickle of ice, snow and cold alike.

-During the summer, she tends to smother you a bit so you have to squirm your way out of her hold a few times if you're to get any rest at all

-Gets particularly soft and vulnerable when you tuck her hair behind her ears and tell her every little thing you love about her; it makes her feel like her engine is going to combust on site- but in the best way possible.

Shadowheart

-Plays with your hair and enjoys it when you do too

-She always prays right before and right after sleeping and always mentions you in her prayers; she wants you to be safe and healthy forever and always.

-On rare nights that she does have a nightmare (not doubt featuring wolves) she'll reluctantly wake you up and want you to spoon her and comfort her tenderly with words or reassurance; she knows it's silly that they are just wild dogs with no table manners but they terrify her to her core.

-She takes a couple of hours to fall asleep, so in the meantime she likes to read, meditate and admire every inch of you while you sleep or chill in your shared bedroll; it reminds her how lucky and blessed she is everyday.

Gale

-Snores mildly on nights his orb is particularly vexing but will still insist on you cuddling up together; he will apologise for all the trouble he knows he causes although he knows he can't control his situation or habits.

-You have a nightly ritual where you'll lay adjacent to each other and get lost in each others eyes, which tends to lead Gale to slowly getting flustered and eventually crumbling and being very keen for some sleep- he can't control his love or actions in relation to you very well so having you looking at him like that really switches something in him.

-If you ever have trouble falling or staying asleep he'll cast a sleep spell on you to make sure you will get your well deserved rest, and watch over you for a little while just in case something should happen or change.

-On nights where he struggles to sleep and you have long been taken ahold by sleep, he'll wonder off to a quiet place on the other side of camp and quietly play with his magic.

Lae'zel

-She's the type to kick and move around a lot in her sleep, maybe even growl- although she has no memory or idea about it; she would be too proud to admit it willingly anyways.

-Very light sleeper, from as early as she can remember she never wants to give any potential enemies the upper hand so she applies this too to her sleep- she will be the one with a blade to their throat.

-Initially she's not a huge fan of the cuddling idea but once you've been together for a while she starts warming up to the idea of it, and will try it once everyone is asleep; she's full of a soft joy and ever so slightly god forbid drops her guard.

-Falls asleep very easily despite her guard being up so much, she has a lot of pent up rage, anxiety and just general exhaustion so this wears a toll on her body taking her completely out before you even realize it.

Astarion

-Is prone to frequent nightmares/reliving his past with the Szarr household, which causes him to jolt awake and sometimes cry or scream.

-Otherwise he's a quiet sleeper and a wonderful cuddler, he always wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in.

-His favorite sleeping position is to have his head directly on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat, he finds it incredibly comforting and reassures him that he's not alone and won't ever have to be again- not at night, not in the day and certainly not against his demons.

-Takes a minimum of 4 hours to fall asleep especially if he's left alone with his thoughts; they eat at him with anxiety and doubt- so he tends to get to bed much earlier than everyone else in camp.

Halsin

-Only tends to snore if he's been in wild shape for too long

-Wonderful big spoon, also loves to hold you against his chest while you lay by the camp fire and watch the stars and reminisce on stories long past.

-Like Astarion he relives/has nightmares about some of his traumatic experiences from his youth but he's much more discreet about it and will do his best not to wake you up; and instead will go for a brief walk to clear his head and take in the scent of nature and all its bounties.

-Adores it when you nuzzle your face into his neck and will absolutely make you lay completely all over him so he can be closer to you; unless it embarrasses you of course.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So I may have been browsing through your AEIWAM tag and came across your writing of Komamura saying it's too hot in summer when you have a fur coat you can't take off. By that logic he's gonna always be sitting beside Hitsugaya in Captain meetings if he can swing it, especially in the early days, cause that boy is like a mini air conditioner next to him. XD

Wolves are winter creatures. The double coat, the snowshoe paws, the proclivity for cuddlepiles- if Sajin could move somewhere that never got above 40F he'd be in heaven. Alas, he lives in a major city that hits triple digits in the summer, so he keeps close track of the little pieces of winter he can find.

The first person to realize his little game was Unohana. She knew about the wolfman thing- Yamamoto trusts her as much as Sasakibe, and persuaded Sajin that, should a medical emergency arise, it should not also be a medical surprise.

She is of course, the pinnacle of Medical Confidentiality.

...but his name came up during one of the Shinigami Women's Association meetings/boozing sessions, and a distinct schism appeared.

On one side was Soi Fon, Nanao, and Herself, who all found Komamura to be very polite, professional and reliable if somewhat reticent and at times, aloof.

"I swear I can't get more than three words out of him!" Nanao despairs.

"I like him. He knows how to Shut Up." Soi Fon agrees.

"He's a very private man." Unohana nods.

Across the table, Isane and Rukia are baffled.

"Captain Komamura? Ten feet tall, bucket head? That Komamura?" Rukia the so-called Ice Princess asks, gesturing to indicate their height disparity. "What the fuck are you talking about? He's SUPER friendly and will hang around to talk FOREVER."

"Yeah, every time I go to the 7th he always asks me to stay for lunch and wants to know how everyone in my family is doing and swap horror stories from the ER for tales of crazy people in the intake queue." Agrees Isane, wielder of the ice cloud Itegumo. "It's embarrassing, but one time I was more than two hours late getting back because we get to talking!"

Everyone stares at everyone else, baffled.

"Did- did I do something to piss him off?" Wonders Nanao.

"Huh. Maybe he just picked up on how much I hate small talk on the job?" Soi Fon shrugs.

Unohana is silent, thinking.

"GUESS WHO BROUGHT TEQUILA!!" Matsumoto Rangiku announces as she kicks in the door, holding four bottles of liquor, only three of which were still full.

"We need you to settle a debate!" Rukia demands at once.

"Ooh! I love passing judgement on things that don't effect me!" Rangiku coos, sitting down, her chest making an odd 'clunk' sound on the table "- there's also salt and limes!"

"It kinda effects you." Soi Fon waved her hand noncommittally. "How would you describe Captain Komamura?"

"Tall, Heavily Armored and Mysterious?" Rangiku shrugs, pulling the box of kosher salt out of her cleavage.

"...more like his personality." Isane clarified.

"Oh! Uhh... You know what? He's one of the few people that's ever complimented me on streamlining like 80% of the paperwork we have to do." Rangiku nodded, fishing the limes out as well. "Always has stuff done waaaay before I expected and I feel like a bit of a jerk for not replying immediately, but never complains if my stuff comes in late."

"Does he hang around and talk, or is he just really businesslike?" Nanao asks, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

"Hmm..." Fowns Rangiku. "Kinda varies by the day- Sometimes he's all business, other times he'll stay and chat. I always assumed he wants to talk but sometimes he's got work, you know?"

There is much confused muttering as the limes are cut, when Unohana raises a finger.

"...How is he with Lieutenant Hitsugaya?" She asks.

"Oh, he ADORES Toshiro!" Rangiku nods enthusiastically, salting her shot glass. "He actually does the majority of Toshiro's Bankai training now because The Old Man handed it off to him so he could focus on teaching Zaraki Everything But Kendo- which, bless him for doing that, Shiro-kin could literally freeze my tits off!- and he really does a good job listening to Toshiro's concerns and confusions- he's a sensitive boy, you know? And Koma-kun is so gentle with him and to be honest I always eavesdrop on his advice because I could use it too. Delightful man all around." She nodded, and moved to down her drink.

"...Why?" She asked, pausing her drink and glaring suspiciously at Unohana.

Unohana nods with the clarity of enlightenment. "Nothing serious, but everything makes sense now." She smiles, then cracks into a small giggle. "It's rather charming, actually."

"Care to elaborate?" Soi Fon grumbles.

"Yeah that answered NOTHING." Rangiku glares.

"We noticed an interesting disparity in his behavior." Unohana explains, pushing her own glass towards Rangiku to fill. "For me, Captain Fon, and Lieutenant Ise, Komamura-Taicho is very polite, but sticks to the matter at hand and will not volunteer any further conversation. For Lieutenant Koetetsu, Miss Kuchiki and apparently Lieutenant Hitsugaya, he has all the time in the world and is quite the chatterbox."

"...Weird." Rangiku frowns, intrigued by the puzzle. "For me it's like, half and half?"

"Not quite, I think." Unohana smirks. "What do Isane, Rukia and young Toshiro all have in common?"

The Resounding Silence of Thinking Very Hard around the table was a bit of a disappointment, but they were about three bottles into the evening already.

"Can't be Height." Nanao hummed. "Rukia and Shiro-Kun are shorter than a stack of pancakes but Isane's got legs that are too long for the cover of Vouge."

"Isane and Toshiro are both silver-haired, but not me, and he doesn't seem to be particularly close to Ukitake-Taicho and I think I've actually seen him run out of a room to avoid Gin." Rukia puzzled.

"What? RUDE." Rangiku protested.

"They're all under a century old, right?" Rangiku pondered.

"No, I'm almost two hundred!" Isane sighed. "Oh wait- we all graduated early from the Academy!"

"Ehhhh, I graduated because I got adopted, I'm not a genius like you and Shiro-kun." Rukia waved. "Also, how would HE know that?"

"You're all Lieutenants!" Rangiku perked up.

"Not yet I'm not!" Rukia protested.

"Pfsh- you run half the division anyway. Jushiro should promote you to Co-lieutenant with Kaien already!" Rangiku waved.

"Its- it's complicated." Rukia mumbled. "Also, Nanao-chan is a Lieutenant and he doesn't like her!"

"Does it have to do with how freakishly huge he is?" Soi Fon asked.

"...Yes, actually." Unohana decided. Sajin might not have so much trouble thermoregulating if he was the size of a regular wolf. She reasoned privately.

"Also, He likes Nanao-chan just fine as far as I know. I think it's less about how much he enjoys your company- which I think he does, he's not one for putting on facades- and more about how much he enjoys your Proximity." She clarified, taking her shot. "Oh, this is good, what is it?"

"Cabrito Blanco." Rangiku read off. "Huh. The Cabrito on the label sure ain't Blanco." She frowned at the brown goat.

"None of us have transferred out of the Division we started in, but again, how would he know? and that hasn't got anything to do with Proximity..." Isane frowned.

Rukia slammed her glass down. "WOW that's got a kick. Maybe uhhhh... None of us wear perfume, but Gin doesn't either. I hope. I don't want to get close enough to find out."

"He's really not that bad-" Rangiku sulked. "OH, 'Blanco' refers to the tequila and this is that goat's white tequila!" She realized.

"Sometimes I wish I could take a weekend vacation in your brain. Its machinations fascinate me." Soi Fon teased. "Hmmm... Lotta close but no Cigar, you're all young-ish, Isane and Toshiro have living relatives and Rukia has a large adopted family, but again, not exclusive or Proximal. You're also all S-rank duelists with- OH!"

"Shh, I'm enjoying the flailing." Retsu grinned.

"Pfff- okay, that is kinda cute and I don't blame him." Soi Fon giggled. "Sometimes I'm real glad my seat is right next to The Old Man for the same reason. Or opposite reason, I guess."

"Bwah?" Rangiku frowned.

"I do the same thing with You, Momo and The Old Man that He's doing with them." Soi Fon grinned. Rangiku frowned, peculiar machinations grinding slowly through the tequila, before she suddenly cackled, head thrown back so hard Unohana had to reach out and grab her by the scarf to keep her from tipping her chair over.

"OH NOOOOOOOO!!" She wailed, shoulders shaking. "Oh- that's cute but Toshiro can NEVER find out he'll be such a brat about it!"

"Sorry I'm late, I had to finish the latest report on the Rice Farm Subsidy Fraud Investigation!" Momo panted, jogging in late. "-What can't Toshiro find out about?"

"There is SOMETHING that You, ran-chan and Yamamoto-sama share, and it's the same thing but backwards as what Me, Hitsugaya, and Isane have in common that Komamura-taicho really likes it or something, and THEY know but won't TELL US and its MAKING ME CRAZY!" Rukia wailed.

Momo stood, expression blank for a few moments. "Wait. You didn't know?"

"KNOW WHAT?" Rukia wailed.

"That Komamura hangs around with people with Ic-Mmpf!" Momo started to reveal but was abruptly tackled and the rest of the sentence smothered in Rangiku's Cleavage.

"With WHAT?" Nanao demanded. "What do they have that I don't?"

"-Hang on." Isane frowned, the slowly turned to her captain, squinting. "Is. Is this a... Physics Issue?"

"That's one way to phrase it." Unohana smiled as Momo flailed for air.

"Oh my Gooooood..." Isane groaned. "Why doesn't he just ASK? I'd happily go over and give Itegumo some practice, I hate summertime too!"

"Huh?" Rukia glared, as Momo finally fought her way free and gasped for air.

"Itegumo? That's your- ohhhhhhh." Nanao realized. "That's. Okay yeah that's actually really cute." She giggled. "Poor guy. The armor can't help with that, can it?"

"That's what I keep telling him but it's-" Unohana waved her hands and grimaced with frustration. "-He wears the armor because he's facing the *stupidest* form of Political Persecution I've ever heard of." she sighed.

"Really?" Asked Momo. "Captain Tousen said Komamura told him it's because he's got a major disfigurement or something?"

Unohana sighed and rolled her eyes. "Komamura is FINE, he's just- It's complicated and medically private but trust me, the helmet is a reasonable precaution against an absurd problem."

"Oh." Momo winced. "Well, I'm glad he's medically alright at least!" "I'm so fucking confused." Rukia whimpered, deflating over the table in despair. "Is. Is hanging out with me making him less sick or something??"

"...Yes!" Unohana smiled. "Or at least, makes his condition more physically comfortable."

Rukia turned that over a few times. "...Talking with him is helping?"

"Yes, but only if you're in the same room with him. Doesn't work over the phone." Unohana nodded.

"Okay." Rukia said, reaching for the nearest bottle. "Lets talk about something else."

---

Years Later, after the Bedlam of her attempted execution and Subsequent Rescue, Rukia finally saw Komamura's face.

It was a bit awkward, walking into the hospital room in search of her brother to find a nine-and-a-half foot tall wolfman wearing the Seventh Division Captain's Haori visiting Momo. It took her a moment to realize who he was, and another as some neurons connected and she squawked indignantly, pointing at him.

"My apologies, Lieutenant Kuchiki, but-" He sighed, ears flattening back against his head with Chargin.

"AIR CONDITIONING?!?!" She bellowed.

Komamura scrunched back, chagrined. For a massive apex predator, he did an excellent Kicked Puppy face.

"Rukia!" Momo protested faintly from her hospital bed. "Keep your voice down, I don't want Toshiro to find out!"

"Find out what?" Hitsugaya grunted, stepping out from behind Rukia.

"Ah, Well-" Komamura started to explain.

Rukia rounded on Hitsugaya, pointing behind her at the captain. "THIS JACKASS HAS BEEN EXTRA NICE TO YOU, ME AND ISANE BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE ICE-TYPE ZANPAKUTO AND CHILL THE AIR AROUND US!"

"...Summer is very uncomfortable when you have a fur coat you can't take off." Komamura winced.

"Uh, duh?" Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, strolling into the room. "I didn't know you were chilling Koetetsu and Kuchiki here as well, but I kinda figured you enjoyed the cold when you stayed at my Bankai training like, five times longer than Gramps ever did."

"My apologies for the deception." Komamura bowed his head.

"It's no big deal." Hitsugaya shrugged, putting a hand up to indicate he wanted help up onto the hospital bed, and Komamura obliged.

"See? I use you being tall too." he smirked.

Komamura sighed fondly as the boy sat down between him and Momo. "Momo makes me chill all her juice too, but she never seems to warm up my tea." he handed her a juice box from the vending machine down the hall, covered in condensation.

"It would explode." Momo grumbled.

"Skill Issue." He shrugged and she affectionately swatted him on the leg. "Anyway, don't dogs cool off through their paws?"

"I'm from a wolf clan, but yes." Komamura cocked his head with curiosity, then alarm when Toshiro casually grabbed his forearm and started tugging his Gauntlets off.

"I don't mind being a human ice pack, especially not when it's nintey-eight freakin' degrees out, but be efficient about it, yeah?" Toshiro grumbled, tossing the gauntlet aside and plopping Komamura's pawlike hand on top of his head.

"...Thank you." Komamura smiled gently, and ruffled his hair a bit.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Hitsugaya shrugged, playing the tough guy even as his ears turned red. "At least you're polite about it! Freakin' Zaraki literally just grabbed me- like, put his whole arm through the office window! and threw me over his shoulders once. Jerk."

"TOSHIRO!" Momo yelped, hand on her face. "You almost made juice come out of my nose!" She half-giggled while Rukia snort-laughed at the mental image.

"Hey Kuchiki!" Hitsugaya growled. "He's got two paws!"

"You can't boss me around! You don't outrank me anymore!" She grinned.

"I have seniority." he teased, and the bed started to shake as Komamura tried not to laugh.

"You really don't need to-" Komamura tried to diffuse the argument. His voice was rock-steady but the wide grin betrayed him.

"You gotta follow my orders though!" Ukitake said cheerfully, appearing in the door. "Hi Lieutenant Hinamori!"

"C-captain!" Rukia yelped, spinning around to Salute. "What are your orders, Sir?

"Shh, nothing's happening. But I did hear you squawking from two floors down, so what's happening?" Ukitake smiled down at her.

"Captain Komamura has APPARENTLY been hanging around me and the other Shinigami with Ice Zanpakuto and using us as Air Conditioners!" Rukia glared up at her commanding officer.

"...Rukia," Ukitake patted her head and smiled gently. "Do you remember where Lieutenant Kaien's desk was?"

"Second door on the left, right next to your office, Sir!" She nodded.

"Right! And where's your desk?" Ukitake asked, leaning in closer to her.

Rukia blinked, confused. "...It's immediately adjacent to your desk in your offi- GOD DAMMIT! NOT YOU TOO?"

"Yep!" Ukitake cheerfully patted her head and then palmed it to turn her around to face Komamura. "Hop to it!"

"Technically, I got the Idea from him, when I saw how he'd rearranged the furniture..." Komamura whispered as he helped her up onto the bed as well and Rukia groaned in defeat, settling next to Komamura where she could sulk at her captain from over the wolfman's broad shoulders.

"Oh, stop pouting!" Ukitake teased, sitting down on the chair beside Momo's bed and leaning back. "It'll be winter soon enough. Actually, Your friend Mr. Yasutora told me about a fascinating wintertime holiday in the Living World-"

[in-my-feels-probably]

hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heart……

Enchanted

Request: hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heart…

and: btw I saw your post about sab season 2 and i would like to request something with nikolai. i dont really have any ideas but i love that blonde boy so anything that you'll write with him is going to make me happy- but if its angst please im begging for a happy ending im already depressed because im reading rules of wolves

and: omg omg omg enchanted x nikolai sounds so perfect 😭 literally written for him

Hi! I absolutely adore these requests, thank you for sending them in. And sorry for the long wait, I’ve been a bit busy. And please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing for Nikolai, this is only my second time. Also, this request was combined with two others, I hope that’s alright, and sorry for anyone who’s request was altered a little bit to fit this story. I’m happy to accept another request if you don’t like this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! 

(Warnings: arranged marriage, swearing, very very brief angst, very vague suggestive content, drinking, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You had nearly begged on your knees when you found out you were to be wed, pleading with your parents’ advisors. 

You were no fool. You knew that one day you’d have to marry, and you were prepared to do your duty. A Princess isn’t awarded the luxury of a choice, and you knew any match that was made probably wouldn’t be from a place of love. But you never thought your parents would be prepared to ship you off to a man none of you had ever even laid eyes on, and that’s including the advisors.

A second son, and a rumored bastard at that. It was all happening too fast, and you weren’t having an easy time processing it. 

“You can’t send me! We already have an alliance with Ravka, why send me still?”

One of the men had stood, trying to ease you. “You must go, Princess. We may have an alliance, but our forces need to be strengthened. Prince Vasily is already spoken for. Marrying you to Prince Nikolai is the fastest way.”

“I am told he is charming, if it is any consolation,” another man said, though his voice was firmer. “It is time, Princess, for you to do your duty. You will marry.”

You finally relented, your fate beginning to set in. “That’s it, then. When will I be expected to leave?”

There was a moment of silence, and an awkward shuffling of feet as the advisors stood. And then one of the men spoke, sending dread running through you like ice in your veins. 

“Your arrival is set for the end of the week. The King and Queen are expecting you.”

—

The journey passed far quicker than you had anticipated. A trip like that should have been grueling, yet each moment felt more fleeting than the last. By the time you arrived on Ravkan soil, you would practically be theirs. Upon your arrival, you were escorted to the Great Hall to meet the King and Queen. 

“Moi tsar,” you curtsied, keeping your eyes low. “Moi tsaritsa. It is an honor.”

The words tasted sour on your tongue, but you spoke them anyway. The King and Queen were not known to be the kindest of people, and you’d rather spend your time in a foreign country on the good side of the sovereign. 

“Princess,” the King greeted as he stood, his eyes racking your body. “You are as beautiful as they say. My son will be pleased. Unfortunately, your arrival has preceded his. He attended a meeting with our generals, and is set to arrive in a few days. The wedding will be in a fortnight. Until then, please enjoy our hospitality. I look forward to this new found alliance between our great countries.”

“As do I,” you said, forcing a smile. 

—

As the days passed, you grew more uneasy. The weight of your duties were beginning to drag you down, and you didn’t know if you could bear the burden any longer. 

Nikolai had yet to return to court, but with his inevitable arrival looming, it became harder to face each day. You were practically alone in the castle, having yet to make any friends. And you doubted the arrival of a Prince—the subject of scandalous rumors—would do anything to lessen the loneliness and fear you felt every night. 

One evening, the pressure became too great.

Despite your duties, and the anger you knew both countries would feel towards you, you fled. It was a rash decision, and a stupid one at that. But it was the only option that could give you your freedom, so you took it.

It led you all the way down to the harbor, which you briskly made your way to with little more than the clothes on your back.

Your window of opportunity was closing, and you took it. In mere hours, someone would notice you were missing from your room. Guards would be sent all throughout the palace, and they’d track you down if you weren’t quick enough. One way or another, you would marry the second Prince of Ravka. You’d be forced to. And although the thought of being alone in an open country you knew next to nothing about terrified you, it was less terrifying than the thought of being trapped in that castle forever. 

So you went. Fled, more accurately. All the way to the harbor, in nothing but a dress and cloak, with a bag of coins hidden in your skirts. 

As you approached the harbor, the shout of guards could be heard in the distance. “Spread out! She cannot have gone far.”

The Kingsguard.

You felt your chest tighten as you quickened your pace, pulling your hood over your head. You rushed as inconspicuously as you could, clambering to get as far from the palace as possible. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your wrist. 

“What’s the rush for, My Lady? You’re going to hurt yourself running in those shoes,” the woman said, her brows furrowing.

You stopped in your tracks to take her in, realizing she was standing next to a much larger man. She had axes sheathed at her waist, and a confused but intrigued grin. 

“Please, excuse me—” You stuttered out, trying to pull away.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the man said, in a tone much gentler than his appearance. “We mean you no harm. What are you running from?”

“I need to get away from here, and fast,” you pleaded, deciding to trust these people who stopped you. 

“That wasn’t an answer to our question,” the woman said, easing her grip. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to look over your shoulder before turning back. “Please, I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just let me go. I have to get out of here, and quickly.”

The woman shared a glance with the man, and for a minute, you were beginning to think you had been found out. They somehow recognized you, and would know that the castle guards were looking for you. If that was true, the pair didn’t show it, looking back at you. 

“We have a ship,” the man finally said, gesturing behind him. “And a captain. A name you’d perhaps recognize. Sturmhond.”

Sturmhond, you thought to yourself. The richest pirate on the True Sea? What was he doing in a port in Ravka? You shook your head, having no time for questions. 

“Would he grant me safe passage? I can pay, I have the means. Please, I need to know if this is my only option of getting out of here. I haven’t done anything illegal, I promise. I just need to go.”

The woman laughed, her relaxed disposition beginning to ease you. “Illegal would have been more fun. Don’t worry, Princess. We’ll take you to our captain. You’ll be safe with us.”

Your eyes widened, and you stepped back to retreat, when the man raised his hands in surrender. 

“We mean you no harm, Princess. Clearly, you’re in trouble, and we have the means to get you away from the palace.”

“Trust me,” the woman said, offering you her hand. “We have no wish to return to the palace.. I’m sure our captain isn’t too keen, either.”

You looked between the ship and back at the castle uneasily, when you heard another shout coming from the guards marching through the village. You turned towards the man and woman, who you just realized looked very similar. Siblings, perhaps, who had just gotten back from a journey at sea.

“Sturmhond is quite the character, but he’s a good man. You have my word,” the man said. 

“Alright,” you said, making your decision as you took the woman’s hand. “I’ll go. Thank you, uh…”

You trailed off, making the man smile. He led you towards a nearby ship, helping you climb your way onto it. 

“I’m Tolya, and that’s my sister Tamar. We’re part of Sturmhond’s crew. Come along, he’ll want to meet you.”

They quickly led you aboard a ship, ushering the crew to cast off. The crew looked around with confused faces, but listened anyway. As the ship slowly left the harbor, you were led downstairs to the cabins below. 

“Captain,” Tamar called, knocking on the first doorway below deck, before opening the door herself. 

“Do you want to tell me why my ship is moving away from the dock?” Sturmhond asked without turning around, shuffling through his cabin as he pulled on his coat. 

You cleared your throat. “That would be because of me, I think.”

Sturmhond turned around at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening as he took you in. “I don’t believe it. Good evening, Princess. I do hope you are well. Tamar and Tolya have treated you kindly, I expect?”

You shrunk under his gaze, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Is my title that easy to spot? You’re the second to figure it out, is it something I’m doing?”

“Tamar has a keen eye,” Sturmond shrugged, grinning. “But you’re also wearing an evening gown fit for court, and the jewels around your neck could buy a small country. Those things aren’t exactly subtle, darling. Even with that cloak.”

You nodded, still nervous but relaxing with his calm demeanor. “I was told you could grant me passage away from the palace? I can pay, I don’t expect you to do this out of the kindness of your heart. But seeing as we’ve already left the harbor, I don’t think you have any other option but to take me with you. Unless you intend on throwing me overboard into the bay, although I’ll thank you kindly not to do that.”

“In that dress? You’d sink to the bottom, darling. There’s no need to worry, Princess. You’ll stay dry on deck, that I can assure you,” he chuckled, motioning for you to sit. 

“We’ll inform the crew our trip has been extended,” Tamar announced, pulling Tolya behind her to leave the cabin. 

You sat in the chair on the other side of Sturmhond’s desk, and he sat across from you. He offered you a kind smile, one that surprised you. You had heard plenty about the infamous privateer. You hadn’t expected him to be this young and handsome. His reputation matched that of an old tycoon, not of what appeared to be an ex soldier. He looked at you with curiosity, motioning for you to speak. 

“So, would you like to explain to me why my ship is sailing back out to sea? Not that I’m upset or anything, I was dreading my return to Ravka myself. But as I understand it, you were asked to come to Ravka to strengthen a political alliance—”

“And how would you know about that?” You interrupted, raising a brow. 

He smiled, shrugging. “I have my ways. It pays to know lots of things about lots of things. Including which Princesses are being married off to far away royalty.”

“Do you know him?” You asked, your voice a little unstable. “The Prince, I mean. Nikolai. I could hardly find anyone who knew him, and any knowledge of him was limited. I went into this alliance blind, thanks to my parents and advisors.”

Sturmhond’s grin widened as he nodded. “I do know him, yes. We were briefly acquainted some time ago.”

“And?”

“He’s alright,” Sturmhond laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Dashingly handsome. A bit cocky for my taste, perhaps a little spoiled, but what royalty isn’t, right? No offense.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “None taken.”

“I suppose you’re lucky in that you’re set to marry him, and not the Crown Prince. Vasily is—how should I put this—well…”

“A bastard?” You finished, making Sturmhond chuckle, nodding. 

“He is, yes. Nikolai is, in another manner of speaking, the same as well. Is that why you’re running? You don’t want to risk your reputation on a second son who may not even be the second son?”

Sturmhond looked at you through curious eyes, although there was a little apprehension in them. A little vulnerability that you didn’t quite know what to make of. You shook your head, inadvertently easing his thoughts. 

“It’s just rumors, Sturmhond. Whether there is any truth to them, I don’t know, and I don’t care. History records names, not blood. A true Lantsov or not, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s not Nikolai’s fault who his true parents are, and he shouldn’t have to bear the consequences of their actions. All that matters to my parents is what he means for my country. His reputation doesn’t affect that.”

“And what matters to you?” Sturmhond asked, his eyes softening. “Your secrets are safe with me, and I promise to not throw you overboard for whatever your answers are. Why are you running, Princess?”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. Sturmhond politely waisted for you to start, nodding encouragingly for you to speak. 

You fiddled with your hands in your lap nervously. “Nikolai’s blood doesn’t matter to me, truly. All that really matters is that he has a kind heart, and he makes living at Ravkan court for the rest of my life more bearable.” 

Sturmhond nodded as he listened intently. You continued.

“From what I hear, he’s a perfectly good man. Compared to my list of options, he was probably the best I could have hoped for.”

“Was? Or is? Do you intend on running forever? Seems like a waste of time in what is already a fleeting existence, Princess,” he said quietly. 

“I know,” you nodded, growing frustrated. “I don’t know why I did it. I just thought about being alone at court for the rest of my life, and even the promise of a semi decent Prince wasn’t enough to ease my fears. I just wanted control over my own life for once, you know? My own freedom. It was a rash decision, I admit. But it seems to be working well in my favor so far.”

Sturmhond nodded, standing up from his desk to pour two glasses of whiskey. You downed yours the second he placed it in front of you, deciding it was better to let the second one sit when he refilled your glass.

“And Nikolai? What are his thoughts on the matter?”

You shrugged, fiddling with the glass. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been at court since I arrived. I have yet to meet him. Although, once he hears of me running, I’m sure any first impressions he could have had of me are ruined.”

“I don’t know about that.”

You raised a brow, coaxing him to continue. “Really? Why is that?”

“From what I hear, Nikolai isn’t really one for court, either,” he started, shrugging. “He runs when he gets the chance, too. Why do you think he’s away from court so often?”

You pondered the thought for a minute. “I don’t know. I always assumed his duties took him elsewhere. He’s not the Crown Prince, so he doesn’t need to remain in the palace. He serves in the First Army, doesn’t he?”

Sturmhond nodded, grinning. “He does. Or, to put it more accurately, he did. I think he just loiters around neighboring countries until his Mother forces him to come home and make an appearance now.”

You chuckled, letting out a deep sigh. “Isn’t that a treat? Coming home for the first time in months, only to find out your bride to be has run away.”

“With a face like that, I doubt he’ll care much about anything once he sees you.” 

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks at his words, setting your eyes to your lap to avoid Sturmhond’s heavy gaze. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he breathed out a laugh. 

“Besides, I’m told the Prince isn’t expected back at court for a few more days. Plenty of time for you to decide whether or not you want me to turn this ship around. Who would I be to deny a Princess?”

You smiled, your voice soft. “And if I don’t want to turn around?”

“Well, you’re paying me. I don’t really care either way, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he said, grinning as he topped your glass off. “But just between you and me, I’d do it for free. Anything for a pretty face like that. Just don’t go telling everyone I said that, I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, nodding. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

—

You spent the next few days on the ship, feeling more and more at ease the further you made it from Ravkan shores. 

At night, you longed for home. 

Not for you parents, or any of their advisors. But for your own bed—not on a constantly rocking ship—and the familiar trill of the birds outside your window on dewy mornings. For the library in the East Wing people seemed to forget was even there, and the soup the cooks would make when a chill was in the air. For the gardens midmorning where you could escape to when you wanted to avoid all the guards constantly watching you. 

Sturmhond did a good job at keeping you distracted from saddening thoughts, though. It was sweet of him, really. Making sure you had someone with you during the day, taking all his meals with you in the evening. 

Your time on the ship was the most relaxed you had been in a long time, actually, which you attributed to him. 

Sturmhond had quite the representation amongst high society—or any society, really—and he certainly met your expectations. He was charming, and attractive. Clever and ambitious, like everyone said he was. 

You hadn’t expected him to be as attentive as he is, however. He seemed to really enjoy a new guest on the ship, one that could keep up with his banter. He didn’t make you feel like a burden like your parents so often did, actually including you in his daily routine. 

Tolya and Tamar were great, too. Kind, and funny. Fiercely loyal and protective, both of their captain and of each other. They were the kind of friends you hoped to make during your time in Ravka. 

So far, it was off to a good start. 

As the days moved on, you found yourself growing closer to Sturmhond. You tried to stop yourself in the beginning. Despite not wanting it for yourself, you were engaged to Nikolai. Falling for another man wasn’t exactly a good thing for your future

But that damned smile.

His ridiculously attractive smile, and his stupid mop of hair that had only gotten longer from his time at sea. The infuriating way he’d look at you and make you want to shrink away from his gaze, but you could never bring yourself to look away. The obnoxious green emerald ring he wore that could probably buy a small village.

He had charmed you, despite your reservations, and you were practically head over heels. It scared the absolute shit out of you. 

Tamar had of course noticed already, confronting you about it one night after dinner. She joined you on deck, sitting next to you on a crate as you watched the stars twinkle in the sky. They were so visible out at sea, away from all the lights and clutter of the cities. 

“You’re not hiding anything from me, you know,” she smirked, sneaking your flask away to take a few sips from it. 

You feigned innocence, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tamar.”

“Come on, darling. Let’s skip the bluffing…you like him. It’s so obvious.”

“Saints, I hope not,” you groaned, scrunching your nose up at the thought of Sturmhond finding out. 

Tamar grinned at your embarrassment, chuckling. “Don’t worry. I may not swing that way, but I know the look when I see it. He’s all puppy dog eyes and desperate looks of longing when he sees you. It’s gross, really. I can actually hear his heart skip a beat when he sees you. He likes you, too. I’d stake money on it.”

You swallowed down your excitement, trying to think rationally. “Don’t even joke about that, it’s not funny.”

“I’m serious! You’re a catch, Princess. He may be my captain, but he’d be a fool not to want you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but we can stop there,” you nervously chuckled. “We don’t need this going to my head. I’ll do something stupid like staying on this boat forever.”

She grinned, nudging your shoulder with hers. “Would that be so bad?”

—

The next few days, you couldn’t get Tamar’s words out of your head. You went on with your routine with Sturmhond as usual, trying not to put much thought into it. 

Your feelings for him were true, that’s for sure. 

And when you’d catch him looking at you from across the deck, you’d swear by the look in his eye that he felt something for you, too. What it was, exactly, you didn’t know. 

But it was something. 

On your last evening before you had to make a decision about where you wanted to go, you skipped dinner. You couldn’t bring yourself to go along with your usual banter with Sturmhond, beginning to feel guilty about just how close and comfortable you’d gotten with him. 

You still had a duty to your country and your family, which meant at least a little to you. Plus, it wasn’t fair to make a promise to Prince Nikolai, only to leave him hanging when he returned to Ravka. 

You were leaning against the deck railing, watching the way the moonlight bounced over the still waters. So lost in thought, you almost didn’t register Sturmhond’s approaching footsteps. 

“A bit chilly for stargazing, isn’t it?” He asked, coming to stand next to you. 

You turned to see him, smiling when you noticed he was wearing his signature blue coat. You couldn’t remember a time since you met that he wasn’t dressed to the nines, no matter what time of day it was. 

“You know, for a pirate, you don’t really look like one.” 

He grinned, gently correcting you. “A privateer, darling, not a pirate. There’s a difference, I assure you.”

“Ah, a privateer. How could I have forgotten?” You chuckled, hugging yourself in an effort to shield your arms from the biting cold. “But seriously. The emerald on your finger is the size of a walnut, and that coat is fit for royalty. I find it hard to believe a privateer does well enough to afford things as nice as those.”

“Maybe I’m just good at my job,” he retorted, that signature smirk on his face.

It was enough to stir butterflies in your stomach, making you turn to look back out at the water. His gaze lingered on you a moment, and you could feel the heat creeping up to your cheeks under the weight of his stare. 

“You’re cold,” he observed, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine,” you tried to say, but Sturmhond interrupted you.

“I can practically hear your teeth chattering,” he laughed, shrugging his coat from his shoulders. “Here. Seeing as my coat is fit for royalty, as you say, I think it’ll suit you better.”

“Sturmhond—”

“Princess,” he mirrored, smirking when you relented, letting him place it around your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” you said softly.

You turned away from the water to face him, leaning back against the bannister. His eyes flitted up and down your form at his coat wrapped around shoulders, before his eyes met yours. He took a seat on the crate behind him, leaning back and settling into the post next to him. It was quiet a moment before he finally spoke.

“You weren’t in your cabin at dinner. Where have you been?”

You sighed, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat. “Thinking.”

“Thinking? About what?”

“About my future,” you said shakily, shoulders slumping. “Both the imminent one, and the one to follow based on what I decide tonight.”

Sturmhond nodded, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ve been thinking about that, too, if I’m being honest.”

You raised a brow at his words. He’d been thinking about your future? He’d been thinking about you? The thought was both intriguing and terrifying, and you hoped the confusion on your face wasn’t too apparent.

“Well, I…I’m sorry, what?”

“Your future directly impacts me,” he quickly corrected, suddenly steeling his face and meeting your confusion with his usual grin. “Where you go I go, remember? You are paying me, after all.”

You tried to hide your disappointment, forcing a smile. It was a foolish hope to have, that he’d think something more of you. But it wasn’t a hope you were ready to give up. 

Not just yet, at least. 

He seemed to notice your disappointment, brows furrowing. “Have I upset you?”

“No,” you quickly replied, trying to brush it off with a laugh. “No, it’s not you. I’m just not quite sure what I should do. I know you need an answer, and Ravka needs an answer, but…I don’t have one yet.”

“Why?” 

You shook your head, sighing in frustration. “Earlier, I had more than halfway made up my mind. I value my freedom, but I think I value my dignity more. I don’t think I could go anywhere and face anyone, knowing I’ve turned my back on my duties. It may have not been a promise I made for myself personally, but it is a promise I had every intention of keeping.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He asked, a genuine look of concern on his face.

His eyes softened on you as your face fell, and you turned away from him as you felt heat creep up to your cheeks. You could hear him stand and approach you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

“Princess?” He asked, only worsening your embarrassment. 

He spoke again, finally getting you to acknowledge him. “You’re worrying me, darling. Surely it cannot be that bad.”

“But it is,” you groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stave off the tears you could feel brewing. 

“Try me,” he said gently, carefully placing a hand on your arm. “You can tell me the truth. What’s stopping you from returning to Ravka?”

You could feel his touch even through the coat, which struck you like a punch to the gut when you remembered it was, in fact, his coat you were wearing. And to make it worse, that damned grin was on his face as he spoke with such a genuine kindness in his voice that it made you want to cry. 

You finally met his eyes, taking a sharp breath. Shit, you thought to yourself. You were really going to admit it. He eagerly awaited your response, which you finally managed to utter. 

“You.”

He sucked in a breath, withdrawing his hand. He looked up at the sky for a moment, before taking another breath and turning back to you. 

“Me?” He asked. 

“You,” you said again, exasperatedly laughing. “You, and your ridiculous clothes, and your infuriating charm, and your kindness and ambition…that damned smile.” 

Sturmhond’s cheeks flushed, and he took a step back, although he was grinning like a fool. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. You didn’t dare speak, waiting for him to say something. After an agonizing moment of silence, he leaned against the bannister, letting out a chuckle.

“What?” You forced yourself to ask, preparing yourself for his answer. 

“Saints, Princess…you’ve gone and done it now.”

You shook your head, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. “What?”

“You’ve managed to outdo me. On my own ship. Quite the feat, I’ll give you that,” he laughed, still grinning. 

You narrowed your eyes, still shaking your head. “Sturmhond, I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re saying to me right now. Will you do the honor of enlightening me, or are you going to stand there grinning at me all night?”

“You like my grin,” he mused, making you flush.

He spoke again, saving you from your embarrassment. “And it just so happens that I like yours, too. I like all of you. Very much so indeed, Princess.”

Your heart lurched into your throat at his words, and you had to grab ahold of the bannister behind you to keep yourself steady. He placed his hand over top of yours, his palm warming yours. 

“I cannot believe you beat me to the punch. It’s rude to upstage a captain on his own ship. You’re lucky you’re royalty. I’ll allow it just this once.”

You had just now calmed your breathing, beginning to take in the weight of his words, and what it meant for you both. “Sturmhond, I—”

“I have a confession to make,” he suddenly said in a very serious tone, startling you. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I must tell you something before either of us share something we can’t take back.”

“Alright…” You said uneasily. 

Carefully, he took your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. You let him hold it, waiting for him to speak. Absentmindedly, you comfortingly ran your thumb along the back of his hand, silently reassuring him. 

“My name isn’t Sturmhond,” he finally said, the nerves in his voice the worst you had ever heard them. 

Trying not to jump to any hasty conclusions, you nodded, squeezing his hand once more. “Alright…if it isn’t Sturmhond, then what is it?”

“Well, technically it is, but it also isn’t. It’s just a nickname—” He rambled, and you placed your other hand on top of his to stop him. 

“I gathered that much. What else are you trying to tell me? Go on, you can say it.”

He took a deep breath, his voice soft. “It’s true that people call me Sturmhond, but I’m much better known for my birth name…Nikolai. Nikolai Lantsov.”

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You tried not to flinch in his grasp, but you knew he could feel you stiffen. You cleared your throat, feeling your voice begin to grow hoarse

“Nikolai Lantsov…as in Prince Nikolai Lantsov, second son of the Ravkan throne? Moi tsarevich,” you croaked out, attempting to curtsy. 

“Please,” Nikolai said, holding both your hands in his to keep you from bowing. “There is no need for such formalities, darling. If anything, I should be the one bowing to you.”

You stood up straight, shaking your head. “We’re long past that, don’t you think?” 

He chuckled, nodding. “I suppose so.”

The reality of your situation began to set in, and you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling along with him. He smiled at the sound, raising a brow. 

“What is it?”

“I suppose my little dilemma is solved then,” you said, shrugging. “I was beginning to spiral, thinking my annoying habit of not being able to contain my feelings had ruined any decision I could have made. But of course—in your usual fashion—you’ve managed to upstage me. As is your right, it is your ship, after all. Well, I suppose there’s no decision to make now. At least, I think there isn’t…right?”

Any nerves you had mustered up were immediately squashed when Nikolai brought his hands up to cup your face, running his thumbs across the tops of your cheeks.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’d take you wherever you wanted to go. All I can hope now is that you’ll allow me to join you…wherever that is.”

You brought a hand up to rest against his wrist. “Don’t you want to go home? You’re expected back in Ravka any day now.”

“I love my country, but I’m in no hurry to return. You’ve told me multiple times how dreadful court was for you—”

“That doesn’t matter,” you quickly said, squeezing his wrist. 

“Of course it does! I cannot ask you to return to a country you’ll be miserable in for the rest of your days for a man you barely know.”

“It’s a good thing you aren’t asking, then,” you reaffirmed, giving him a smile. “I told you. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I said that I was afraid I would be all alone at court, and that I was afraid the man I am promised to wouldn’t want a life with me.” 

“What a fool he’d have to be to not want that,” Nikolai joked, making your grin widen.

You continued to reassure him, not convinced that he was believing your words. 

“You say that you’ll follow me wherever I go. Well, I want to go with you. Wherever that is. And I want you to go home. I may have not known you for long, but I’ve been around you long enough to know that you won’t truly be content if you’re tied to my wishes. And I know you’re too stubborn to admit that, so I’ll tell you my wishes, and I need you to believe me. I wish to be with you. I wish for you to return to wherever feels like home, and I wish for you to take me with you. If that’s Ravka, then Ravka will be home. Court will become much more bearable with you there. And if it begins to become too much, I know a certain privateer that can whisk us away for a few days.”

He was doing it again. Smiling like an idiot. He seemed to be in disbelief at your words, this being one of the very few times in his life that he couldn’t find the right words to say. 

“I didn’t mean to trick you, Princess. I should have told you who I was from the beginning.”

You shook your head. “I don’t blame you, Nikolai. If I was given the chance, I wouldn’t have told you who I really was, either. At least, not until I knew I could trust you. I would have done the same as you did. It’s alright.”

“I can’t believe my luck,” he grinned, taking your hand. “How is it that my betrothed managed to stumble upon my ship the very hour I returned to Ravka?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not one to believe in fate, and it sounds impossible.”

“Not impossible…improbable,” he corrected, smirking when you playfully narrowed your eyes up at him. 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile at your turn of luck. “Are we doing this? Are you going home to Ravka?”

“Are we going home, you mean? I can’t be expected to abandon my betrothed when she turns out to be the single most invigorating person I’ve ever met, now can I?”

“You cannot,” you agreed.

A comfortable moment of silence passed between you both, and you looked down at his hands as you held them in yours. The familiar glint of green on his finger made you chuckle. 

“I knew it, by the way,” you added, grinning. “This coat and that ring are far too ridiculous for a privateer. They’re fit for royalty. Fit for a Lantsov.”

“Am I to understand that you’re not interested in a Lantsov emerald for your engagement ring?” He asked, smirking when you quickly shook your head.

You laughed, pulling his hand closer to inspect his ring. “I said nothing of the sort. I was merely observing how ridiculous it is, as well as this coat. But I’m still wearing it, aren’t I? If I’m going to be married to a ridiculous man, I should begin preparing now, shouldn’t I?”

He narrowed his eyes, playfully jutting his chin up at you. “You just like the coat and want to keep it. It’s alright, darling, you can admit it. We can have your own fitted for you, all you have to do is ask.”

Nikolai gripped the hem of your sleeve, tugging you closer by the arm of his coat. You let him pull you, chuckling nervously when he drew you nearer. 

“I admit nothing, only that my future husband has a taste I will have to acquire. But I’m sure I’m up for the task. We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

“We do,” he smiled, settling his hands around your waist. “Although I’ll have to admit, I don’t think we know each other well enough to become husband and wife.”

You tensed under his hold, and he quickly retracted his statement, shaking his head. He didn’t give you enough time to truly panic, interrupting your train of thought. 

“And that’s perfectly fine, darling. Like you said, we have all the time in the world to get to know each other. I think I’d like to take advantage of that starting now. After all, it is our last night on the ship, isn’t it? At least, I assume it is. I expect you’ll want to set a course for Ravka now. Unless you’d rather I get down on one knee, and make a big show of it first. I can do that, if you wish.”

“I certainly wouldn’t stop you,” you chuckled, letting your hands rest on top of his as your tone shifted to a more serious note. “Are we really doing this, Nikolai? Returning to Ravka? Getting married?”

He smiled wider, a twinkle in his eye as he looked down at you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you stepped foot on my ship, the second I laid eyes on you. And I’ve wanted you more every day since. I’m not one to believe in fate either, but I do think the Saints may have gifted you to me. Who knows what I did to deserve it, but you most definitely won’t find me questioning their will if you’re the result.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. He was right. Of all the ships in the harbor, his was the one you found yourself on. Of all the captains in Ravka, he was the one who took you in. The man you were supposed to marry, and you found yourself falling for him long before you even knew who he truly was. If that isn’t fate, then what is?

“I’ll take all the influence from the Saints I can get when it comes to explaining to your parents why I’ve disappeared right out from under them,” you said with a groan, leaning into him. 

Nikolai chuckled, holding you close. “My Mother will forget all about it when she sees my future safely secured with marriage. There is no need to worry, trust me.”

“I may not have to worry about her, but I do need to worry about Tamar,” you said, letting out a pained chuckle. “I think she staked money on our little situation.”

“She most definitely did. I expect Tolya will be paying up when they hear the news. Who should break it to him?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I think that duty lies with you, as my future husband. If I’m going to have to listen to Tamar’s endless bragging about being right, then you should have to take half the burden in the form of telling Tolya. That’s how marriage works, isn’t it? Half and half. It’s only fair.”

It was his turn to groan now as he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, taking yours in the other. 

“Alright, I’ll do it, but you have to accompany me. I think your presence will help soften the blow. What do you say, darling? After all…it’s only fair.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, squeezing his hand. “If I must. You’re lucky you’re pretty, Lantsov.”

“Darling, I’m lucky for a lot more than that,” he smiled endearingly, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

— A/N - Hi! This is SO long, I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry for taking so long to get this out, I’ve been busy and had no time to write. But I finally forced myself to get this done, and now I have more time to write! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you think! Thank you again for the requests :)

[pan-fried-stupidity]

I know things are rocky with the coven because of story/plot reasons, but I think that in the normal day to day, Grandma Wren and Ame were/are the scariest members of the coven of elders.

Imagine you're Tefmet or an adventurer come to ask the coven for aid. There is a masked shadow lady(?) with a third stomach void arm, an 8ft ice queen that you have to put effort into not magically falling in love with, the literal oldest woman alive that is definitely part plant at this point, 4 wolves and a grizzly bear in a naked woman shaped trench coat, and a nice grandma or kind 20 year old who offers you a honeycake. And they all call each other sister! Sweet grandma somehow has the respect of the scariest people ever and they all refer to each other as equals.

Any PC I've ever played would be so wary of Grandma Wren and Ame and we need to talk about this more.

[breelandwalker]

Wolf Moon - January 24-25, 2024

Shake off the cold and sing to the sky, witches - it's time for the Wolf Moon!

Wolf Moon

The Wolf Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of January. The name is said to be derived from the sound of wolves howling with hunger while prey is scarce in the midst of winter. Given that we now know that wolves howl mostly for communication, my personal opinion is that people huddled in their homes during a very dark and dangerous time of year probably noticed these sounds a lot more readily with little else to occupy their time as they waited out the winter, and thus were set to worrying about ravenous beasts invading their villages and farmsteads. (It's worth noting that wolves preying on livestock was a very real concern for most people outside major cities for many centuries, so this isn't entirely unfounded.)

The name also calls to mind the howling of the wind during winter storms, or whistling around the eaves during the long cold nights. And for those of us who might not have been careful with our spending over the holidays, I might cite a tongue-in-cheek reference to the wolves being at the door when those credit card bills come due.

[For those not familiar with the phrase, to have "a wolf at the door" is a saying that refers to some imminent hardship or disaster. In modern parlance, this is usually applied to poor finances or looming bankruptcy.]

This month, the moon peaks at 12:54pm EST on January 25th, so the moon will likely appear to be full on the nights of the 24th and 25th, depending on where you are in the world.

Some North American indigenous names for the month of January and its' moon are Cold Moon (Cree), Center Moon (Assiniboine), Severe Moon (Dakota), Ice Moon (Catawba), and Spirit Moon (Ojibwe). Other names include Mantis Moon (South African origins), Quiet Moon (Celtic), and Moon After Yule (Anglo-Saxon).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

As a new year dawns, it's time for rest and reflection before we set out on the next phase of our journey. While the cold weather lingers, take some time to sit by the fire, literally or metaphorically, and take stock of where you stand, what resources are available, and what you plan to do with them.

Check in with your near-and-dear following the mad rush of the holiday season as well. Make sure that friends, family, and community members around you are doing all right. Offer support and kindness where you can, but don't overextend yourself. It's your time to recuperate too, and it is good and healthy to set boundaries which allow time and space for yourself.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Winter is a prime time for storytelling. Back in the days before internet or television or radio, people would often read to each other or tell tales to pass the time. Consider re-reading a favorite book that inspires you or exploring some region of folklore or mythology you've been meaning to look into. If you have children who are of an age to enjoy stories, read them some of your favorites or introduce them to something new. Share stories and discussions with your witchy circle too!

While you're at it, take a moment to examine the role that folklore and stories play in your practice. If you subscribe to a particular mythos, be it through deities or just general belief, consider which parts of it resonate the most with you and why.

Consider also the lessons of the winter season - the necessity of rest between periods of growth and activity, and the role of death, cold, and darkness in the natural cycles of life. What do these things mean to you and your practice? Are they a source of fear or fascination? Do you come alive in the winter or bundle up and wait for spring? How can you best remind yourself to pause for breath as the year goes on?

And of course, the beginning of a new year is an excellent time for goal-setting and divination. You're making resolutions for your mundane life, so make a few for your craft while you're at it, and pull out your cards or runes or pendulum for a New Year forecast on how things might go.

Happy Wolf Moon, witches! 🐺🌕

SOURCES & FURTHER READING:

Bree's Lunar Calendar Series

Bree's Secular Celebrations Series

Wolf Moon: Full Moon in January, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Full Moon January 2024: Discover the Wolf's Thrilling Spiritual Meaning, The Peculiar Brunette.

Moon Info - Full Moon Dates for 2024

Calendar-12 - 2024 Moon Phases

Image Source: What Is A Wolf Moon?, The Fact Site.

[esther-dot]

The poor thing in the road, it's eyes still glistening 17k by @eruherdiriel

Hooves are not what wake Jon in the middle of the night, pulse racing and hands clammy with sweat. It’s fire. Orange and angry, eating away at houses and shops and shacks in his dream. Even now that he is awake, Jon can still taste burnt flesh on the back of his tongue. The wounds from his brother’s mutiny and Drogon’s gouge, frozen only hours ago, burn white. War leaves everyone broken, Jon perhaps most of all. Sansa finds even peacetime requires letting go.

the sky is big enough 15k @hopetorun

The war is over, except all the ways it isn't, and Sansa isn't alone, except for all the ways she is.

O Voyagers 28k WIP

Jon’s eyes are fixed on the floor at her feet. To a stranger it might look like respect, the proper deference shown to a queen, but Sansa knows better. If he wished to look at her, he would. He has not forgiven me, she thinks, her heart a stone in her chest. He likely never will.

daughters and queens bleed alone 4k

They crown Sansa with a rope of twisted steel, two wolves arching across her brow in a delicate embrace. No stags upon this crown—no branching antlers, no gleaming manes, no blooming hearts of southern roses. No fire, no blood, no graceful sweep of scales and wings, or the silver bite of dragon’s teeth. The Queen in the North stands before them, and Winter has come.

old wounds 2k by @jonsaslove

Jon left King's Landing and never returned. Sansa became Queen in the North and weathered the storm. When they see each other again, there is not much left to say.

stories to tell our children 1k by @jonsaslove

“You said that Old Nan used to tell you stories so scary you couldn’t sleep for a fortnight! That was a baby story!” Duncan nods, agreeing with his sister. Her father interrupts. “Well, Old Nan was a very good story teller. She could tell you a story about fairies and princesses and make it seem terrifying with just her voice and a menacing stare.” Or; Jon and Sansa tell their children bedtime stories.

Where the Shadow Ends 245k (I'm sure y'all have read this one, but it is THE post canon fic, so it must be mentioned!)

For years Sansa has ruled the North, wisely, justly, capably--and utterly alone. Everyone tells her she needs an heir; all she wants is a family. But after everything she’s suffered, there’s only one man she trusts won’t use her for her claim. Only one she trusts with her body. Unfortunately, she trusts him in no other way--especially not with her heart. For years Jon’s hidden in the far north, choosing solitude over the people he loves, choosing self-exile as punishment rather than atoning. But then Tormund tires of his moping and drags Jon back to Winterfell where guilt and consequences and a tempting offer await him. accompanying gifset by @thewindsofwolves

We Set Fire in the Snow 7k by @framboise-fics

Three days was long enough for moments of tenderness, for soft touches and gentle murmurs alongside the violence of their passions, but it was not long enough to burn this fire between them down to ashes, to put out the flames, he thinks ruefully, bitterly, achingly, as he rides out and looks back at her standing on the ramparts as he remembered her, her hair a curtain of fire, her body rigid like she has been sculpted from ice. He will take that fire back North, to warm him through frigid nights, he thinks; to burn inside of him so that he shall never find any peace; and let her feel the same, he thinks, let him not be alone in his agony. If he loved her he should surely wish her peace, so does he love her? Or is this how a wicked man loves, painfully, cruelly, selfishly? Is he her punishment just as she is his?

An Affair in Stages 13k by @justadram (not tagged post canon but works as one which is interesting as the first chapter was posted way back in 2013!)

It begins with a proposition, but where it will end neither of them knows.

Please Speak Well of Me 17k

A queen isn’t supposed to cry. So she’s learned to turn her tears to frost before they ever reach her cheeks. “Sansa,” Jon says to her, and the ice within shifts, weakens. Brackish water begins to leak through the cracks. She can barely remember how to speak, and it doesn’t come as much of a comfort that he seems to be fumbling as well. Over the foolish moons, Sansa had imagined that, if the time came that Jon ever returned, the mere sight of him would unwind the tangles of conflict inside of her. There would be something in his eyes, something she had forgotten about his face, something that would remind her what was real and what was not between the two of them.

breathe me in, taste my words 2k

Much to her surprise, marriage has only made Sansa less of a lady, not more. She doesn’t mind terribly, but maybe that’s because Jon doesn’t either.

Stone by Stone 8k

Finally, her words came in a rush. “But I seem to have built my own wall. Stone by stone, little by little, after each of them disappointed me, hurt me. And now that they are dead, I sometimes fear I may die behind my wall that no one can can walk thru.”

fire in exile 2k by @princemills

The thoughts of the others he’d lost were too unpleasant, and the thoughts of those who survived made him want to keel over like a babe, knowing he’d left them behind. It wasn’t really a choice, but it didn’t stop him from pondering his choices. From King in the North to bending the knee to Daenerys to stabbing her with a dagger beneath white ash borne from burning flesh, he’s never made the correct choice, and now he’ll burn in hell for it. Or, as Westeros deems hell: he’ll freeze his balls off at the wall, or Tormund will cut them off. Whichever comes first. - a quick study of jon and the choices he makes in exile.

watch me run right back to you 16k

Three times Jon and Sansa almost kiss…and three times they actually do.

come out of hiding (i'm right here beside you) 36k @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

AU after 8.05. After the death of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow chooses to live beyond the Wall, while Sansa Stark, the newly-crowned Queen in the North, marries a Dornish prince. Three years later, when Jon finally gathers the courage to return to Winterfell, he finds that while many things have changed, one hasn't: he's still in love with Sansa. (Featuring widow!Sansa, contrite!Jon, and a cute baby.)

Homecoming 31k @theoriginalsuki

Halfway to him, she broke composure; she flew at him, an arrow from a bow, and he opened to receive her, lifting her, clutching her to the soft, neglected animal of his body. Sansa has one request of Jon, and then he can leave her forever: help her to find a husband.

Gifsets: Jonsa and Their Three Children by @kingbuckley , Together We Build Our Empire by @aureliacamargo, Future Jonsa with Children by @amandapeetshusband, In Which They Live a Long and Happy Life Together by @baelerion, To See Him Once Again by @theirwinterfell, Maybe We'll Meet Again by @thatmansplayinggalaga

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

[vivwritesfics]

Run From Midnight

Chapter One: Honey And Lemon

Honey and lemon. All Bradley can smell is honey and lemon as he watches the scruffy, feral little thing using Bob as a human shield. He's in love, and so is Bob.

Top Gun Werewolf AU

Masterlist

He could smell it in the air before he could see her. Sweet, like honey and lemon. The scent had to belong to somebody special, he just knew it. He lifted his nose and breathed in, trying to inhale the scent, to locate where it was coming from.

That was until the smell of Jake's barbecue got in the way. A growl was pulled from his lips, one that had Bob and Natasha laughing at him. One glare in Bob's direction and he was quiet. Natasha, though, she wasn't so afraid of him.

It was such a rarity to have the entire pack on leave at the same time. When they were on leave at the same time, they did things like this; forcing Jake to barbecue while the others sat around and had a drink. 

Bradley returned his nose to the air and began sniffing again. But the scent, and therefore the person it belonged to, had gone. Bradley couldn't help but sulk.

He hadn't met the person, didn't know who the scent was coming from, but he wanted to know more. He'd heard Mav talk about it, how he'd met this one girl and he knew she was the one because of how sweet she smelled. But, because he was Maverick, he lost her in a day.

There were emotions Bradley didn't know how to handle. Of course, he'd heard the stories about his parents and how his dad knew before his mom even walked into the room. But his parents weren't here now to guide him through.

The only family he had left didnt know how to handle it, either. After his mother died, there was only one person for him to turn to. But Pete (or Maverick, as everybody else called him) had long since run off to try and make it on his own.

(Spoiler alert, Mav didn't make it on his own. It was after he had lost that girl that smelled so sweet. Ice had tried to talk him out of it, but Mav needed to feel something again, so he ran. He ran for the hills, to never return. But, when Ice Man needed him, he answered the call and returned to the pack).

"What's up, kid?" Maverick asked as he sat down beside Bradley, placing an opened bottle of beer in front of him.

Bradley grumbled out a half hearted response. He still hadn't gotten used to having Maverick around as some sort of, what, mentor. Bradley had grown up without any sort of guidance from a pack. After his father died, he thought he'd always have his uncle Maverick there to help. But Maverick took off and Bradley was left to learn everything by himself.

"Ah," said Maverick. He said it in a way that had Bradley glaring up at him. "I know that grumble."

"You do?" Bob suddenly called from where he sat beside Nat. Bob was so smart, but there wasn't a lot he knew about Alpha's. His old pack Alpha behaved so differently from Maverick that Bob was at a loss when he first joined the pack. 

Maverick nodded his head. "Oh yeah," he began. "Rooster's picked up the scent."

"The scent?" Natasha echoed.

It was easy for Maverick to forget how much younger his packmates were than him. They hadn't yet experienced the full range of emotions seen by most wolves.

"Have you guys ever heard of True Mates?"

A dry laugh left Jakes lips. "It's a myth," he muttered as he began plating up the meat. "If it was true, I would have her by now."

As soon as it was on the table, most of the other wolves crowded around the plate and snatched off what they could get. Bob held back; he knew with his pack Omega status would mean he didn’t stand a chance. But his pack would always take care of him.

And that was proven when Natasha handed him half of her share. He sat on the floor, watching as the pack Alpha commanded the attention of the pack.

"True mates are real, trust me," said the pack Alpha. "Rooster's parents were true mates. I met mine once upon a time."

Bradley couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at Maverick.

But he wasn't the one that said anything, instead sinking his teeth into his food. "Yeah, yeah, Mav," Jake muttered. "We all know the story. You met her and immediately fell in love. But, because she was human, she couldn't feel the bond like you could and she couldn't feel how much it hurt when she left."

Maverick always told the same story when he got drunk. The pack knew it off by heart by this point. The only one really affected by it was Bob.

The thing about a scent like that was that it was addicting. Bradley desperately wanted to smell it again. For the next few days, everywhere he went, he'd suck in a deep breath, try to pick up the scent of lemon and honey.

But, no matter where he went, Bradley didn't pick up the scent again. Maybe he wouldn't smell it again. But it had only been a few days, and he wasn't ready to give up.

In his desperation to search for the scent, Bradley began taking Bob everywhere. Being the pack Omega, somebody went with him wherever he went, just to keep him safe and to give the rest of the pack piece of mind.

"Wanna go and get coffee?" Bradley asked as he sat down at the rather large kitchen table with Bob and Mickey (before Bob became the pack Omega, they all thought it was either going to be him or Mickey).

Bob's eyes lit up behind his glasses. "You sure you're not busy, Rooster?" He asked, but he was unable to hide his excitement.

Bradley shook his head. "I've got time," he answered. Plus, the coffee shop was one of the only places he hadn't yet searched for the honey and lemon scent. But he'd never tell Bob that.

Bob was more than happy to climb into the Bronco as Bradley drove him to the town. He was practically preening under the attention of one of his packmates.

The thing with their pack was that the dynamic was mismatched. They weren't like most packs, made up of families working together. No, none of them had family, and that was how they found each other.

The thing is, their pack dynamic wasn't like most. Other packs were families that came together, to work together and protect each other. Most packs were ever growing, constantly welcoming new members when mates were found.

But their pack wasn't like that. None of them had family that they were particularly close to. Some of them had no family at all. But they'd come together and formed a pack.

Ice Man had been the one to bring them together. But when he got sick, he called Maverick to take the place of pack Alpha. It was uncomfortable between Bradley and Maverick at first. Bradley hated Maverick for abandoning him all of those years ago and Maverick knew he didn't deserve forgiveness.

But that was over a year ago and the two had come along way. The rest of the pack didn't know much about their relationship so, whenever Bob got a moment alone with Bradley, he asked.

That was what he did on the drive to the café. There was a lot of it that Bradley didn't like to talk about, especially when it came to his parents. But he couldn't just say nothing to Bob. 

Bradley parked outside of the café. "Are you coming?" Bob asked, moving to climb out of the Bronco.

He looked towards the café. They weren't the kind of places Bob liked to step foot in. The lights were too bright, the smell of coffee too strong and the music too annoying. But Bob liked his coffee, and Bradley was happy to drive him there.

He shook his head and Bob climbed out of the Bronco. Bradley watched as Bob walked into the café. It always fucked with his senses, and he could barely smell Bob. But it didn't stress Bradley out. That distressed smell didn't fill the air, he had no reason to march into the café with a panic.

Suddenly, there was that scent again. Lemon and honey filled the air. Bradley sucked in a deep breath, searching through the faces of the people walking past the café. Which person was it? Bradley couldn't work it out from his place in the Bronco.

But then, the smell disappeared again. Well, it didn't disappear, but it was masked by something much stronger. Distress. Bob's distress.

Immediately, Bradley was out of the Bronco and marching towards the café. He ripped the door open with such ferocity, he almost pulled it off his hinges.

His eyes quickly scanned everybody in the café. Bob wasn't there. Where the fuck was he? He breathed in deep and followed the smell of his pack Omega's distress out of the cafes back door. Nobody stopped him.

When Bradley threw open the door and walked out into the alley behind the café, his heart stopped.

There Bob was. He himself might have been six foot tall, but he submitted to the woman who was holding him captive, arm around his neck. Bradley breathed in, and a mix of scents filled his nose. Bob's distress, along with honey and lemon.

Fuck.

[kennheir]

@hcpemikaelscn

Hope wanted to make this choice before others yanked it from her hands. This wasn't something that Hope was thinking of doing on a whim. But everyone in the family thinks she isn't being rational. Her heart and brain have never been more in line with one another. One day, a threat was going to knock on their door that required them to access her full potential. When Hope told everyone it was during a family meeting, Her voice was even and steady. The dining room table was filled with pastries, alcohol, and fruit. It was almost as if Hope thought a celebration of life was in order. Valkyrie had been sitting on Hope's lap under the table. Her fingers brushed through the soft fur of her beloved animal when no one could notice. The overhand fan buzzed with each twirl, but it was cooling everyone that needed it. Hope was thankful, given that she was sweating thanks to the Louisiana heat.

BELLE : I CAN'T LOSE YOU AGAIN.

Everything turns on a dim. The calmness in her body twists. Fingers shaking in her cat's fur that only grinds down into her body. It was 15 pounds of pure animal that nuzzled into her stomach to try and center her. A deep breath is taken before Hope responds without thinking. ❝ I'm not leaving you! ❞ Hope's voice wasn't calm, and it wasn't even anymore. It became more high-pitched and full of stress. ❝ Even if some, I'd love to not be here. I can't seem to escape this earth. ❞ The sad thing was Hope had tried. She jumped off a ledge into a literal pit of doom to try and get rid of her pain. But even hell adjacent didn't want her. It spat her back to the same twisted fate she had been running from for years.

HOW IS SHE SUPPOSED TO TAKE IT ANY OTHER WAY? Hope is taking her fate in her own hands, having her say before the choice is RIPPED away from her and yet, Belle can't stop her hands from shaking at the thought. (Their mom had chosen to die to save them and never came back. Hope's a tribrid, her come back is practically written in the stars but that doesn't stop the fear that she's losing what's left of her family.)

"Just because you'll come back, doesn't mean I won't still have to watch you die!" Like Henry, like mom. Belle's the youngest in a family that's been dwindling since she was born, lost to murder and treachery, self-sacrifice in the face of those that DESPISED them for something none of them could help.

(She's still choosing to leave her, even if only temporarily.)

Being there for it isn't even a choice, How else will she know it works? That her stupidly brave older sister hasn't just killed herself for nothing, left Belle to truly fend for herself with family that feels like they only truly care about her as Hope's sister, Hayley's daughter, not Belle.

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: werewolves

Want your monsters a little hairier? Then this list is for you! Whether you prefer your werewolf books fantasy, horror, slice of life, or romance, this list has a something for everyone (especially if you want your werewolves queer!)

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Lobizona (Wolves of No World series) by Romina Garber

Young adult. As an undocumented immigrant, Manu has been told her existence is illegal. When her mother is arrested by ICE, Manu is left alone, and decides to seek out the only connection she has left: her dead father's criminal connections. Here she finds a secret underworld of Argentinian folklore, where a seventh daughter is a bruja and a seventh son is a lobizón - a werewolf. But as Manu understands more about who and what she is, she comes to realize her self is seen as forbidden in more ways than one, and that she will have to fight for her way to exist. Tackles heavy subjects in a more lighthearted magic school setting.

Empire of Wild by Cherie Dimaline

Horror. Nearly a year ago, Joan's husband Victor disappeared seemingly into thin air. That is, until Joan stumbles across a revival tent where the local Métis have gathered to listen to the charismatic preacher Eugene Wolff - a man with Victor's face. But when she faces him, he doesn't recognize her at all, claiming his mission is only to spread the word of Jesus. Only, that is far from all he's doing. Now Joan must find out the truth of what happened to her husband.

Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O'Neal*

Young adult. Priya had plans to go to Stanford, but is derailed when the fallout from lyme disease puts her back, making her question if she'll ever get back to normal. Luckily she has her discord support group with whom she can chat and vent about her illness. Even more - she has Brigid, online fandom friend and fellow chronic illness sufferer. But when Brigid disappears from the web without warning, Priya must drive to Pennsylvania to make sure her friend is okay - and finds that Brigid's condition is a bit hairier than she expected.

Santa Olivia (Santa Olivia duology) by Jacqueline Carey*

Is this werewolf fiction? Technically not. It's sci-fi more than fantasy or horror, with a plot reminiscent of superhero stories. It follows Loup Garron, a young girl growing up in Santa Olivia, an isolated town by the border between the US and Mexico, where the inhabitants aren't allowed to leave. Loup is the daughter of a "Wolf Man", a soldier enhanced with wolven traits which she have now inherited, allowing her to take a stand against the soldiers keeping her small home town oppressed. Also features a main f/f couple!

A Wolf Steps in Blood by Tamara Jerée*

Novella, lesbian soulmate romance. Red wolves went extinct in Alabama long ago - except for the ancestors of Yasmine's family, who were saved by witches putting a spell on them, allowing them to take human form to hide. Now, that spell is growing weaker, and Yasmine is struggling for control with her wolf. When a chance encounter with the exiled blood witch Kalta reveals the two to be not only fated mates but also the possible answer to the pack's struggles, Yasmine and Kalta both must work together to overcome the grief in their hearts and save their families.

Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones

Horror. A coming-of-age story following a boy and his aunt Libby and uncle Darren, living on the road and staying outside the law. They're all outsiders, but Libby and Darren are mongrels, mixedbloods, werewolves waiting to see if their nephew is like them or not. The boy, meanwhile, must decide if the wandering life of his family is for him, or if he belongs somewhere else.

How to Be a Werewolf by Shawn Lenore*

Graphic novel, available as printed or webcomic. Malaya was bitten by a wolf as a child, and ever since she has lived an isolated life with her family, working in their coffee shop and fearing she will lose control of her wolf side. Having never met another werewolf, Malaya knows little of what she is - until she meets a stranger claiming to be like her, and that she's far from alone. But the more she gets involved with other werewolves, the more she also gets dragged into the dangerous conflicts between packs.

Artie and the Wolf Moon by Olivia Stephens

Middle grade graphic novel. One night, young Artie witnesses something incredible - her own mother turning into a wolf. She finds out she's from a lineage of werewolves, and to help her awaken her abilities her mother invites family friends who are like them. A new world opens up for Artie, but so do dark secrets: werewolves have a deadly enemy, and it's coming back for them.

Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella

Brian is a slacker, having dropped out from college, working as a waiter, and spending his nights drinking with his friends - except the nights when he turns into a werewolf, of course. But after having slipped and killed a jogger, Brian is noticed by fellow werewolf Tyler, who's working on a self-help startup for werewolves and offers to mentor Brian. At first Tyler's methods helps Brian get back on his feet, but the more he learns of Tyler's expansion plans, the more he realizes he might be bad news. A good read if you want a funny, goofy take down of toxic masculinity that doesn't take itself very seriously.

Such Sharp Teeth by Kim Harrison*

When her pregnant twin sister is left by her boyfriend, Rory decides to go back to her home town and stay with her for a time. But the town is also the home of old childhood trauma, and something wild is roaming the woods. When she gets attacked and mauled one night, Rory's successful life is changed forever. Lycanthropy used as a metaphor for female rage, trauma, and bad coping mechanisms.

What Big Teeth by Rose Szabo

Young adult horror. It's been years since Eleanor Zarrin last saw her family, having been sent away to boarding school when she was little. But after a bloody misstep, Eleanor must flee the school and return home to her family's manor. Here she's reminded of her family's darker side, and that she has never been able to run and hunt in the woods alongside them. But in a family of wolves Eleanor is something else - and even more dangerous.

Red Hood by Elana K. Arnold

Young adult horror. A take on the little red riding hood tale where the girl is both the victim of the wolf and the huntsman who slays it. After a particularly embarrassing incident, young Bisou flees into the woods, only to be faced with a predatory wolf. To her shock, their face-off ends with the wolf dead, not Bisou. Even more shocking: the dead wolf turns into a boy. Suddenly, Bisou finds herself a hunter and a protector, routing out the wolves who masquerade as boys. Visceral and bloody, but pretty feminism 101 in its portrayal.

Fear the Wolf by Stefanie Gilmour

Urban fantasy. Alex never wanted to be a werewolf, but when a latent gene was triggered by a traumatic event, causing her to shift, she had no choice but to accept her new reality. Now she stays under the radar, avoiding other werewolves as she tries to keep a job and keep her temper under control, fearing that she will be discovered or even hurt someone. The only person outside her family who knows her secret is Emma, a wizard and Alex's closest friend. But when Emma gets a new boyfriend and starts acting strangely at the same time as attacks and disappearances of supernatural citizens are on the rise, Alex might have no other choice but to get involved in the local werewolf community to fight back.

Kitty and the Midnight Hour by Carrie Vaughn

Urban fantasy. Kitty Norville is a midnight radio host and a werewolf, having been turned after a traumatic attack. Stuck in an abusive pack, Kitty needs an outlet, and decides to use her radio midnight hour to speak about the supernatural. Soon others like her are calling in, seeking advice, and Kitty's life is looking up - but in drawing attention to the supernatural, she has also put a target on her back, and someone wants to make her shut up, no matter what.

No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull

When Laina's brother gets shot and killed, a video recording the incident reveals something shocking: a giant wolf which, when shot, turns into a naked man. The video gets leaked, and little by little monsters start coming out into the open. But there’s a reason monsters have decided to step put of hiding, something otherworldly and far more dangerous than them. Follows a large cast of characters, among them members of a werewolf pack.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Rules for Werewolves by Kirk Lynn

A story told entirely in dialogue, Rules For Werewolves follows a group of young outsiders, drifting from place to place and squatting in empty suburban houses as they try to build a life in a world that has no room for them,

Howl by Shaun David Hutchinson

Young adult. New kid in town, Virgil Knox, has been attacked by a monster. Only, no one believes it was actually a monster, insisting it must've been a bear. But Virgil knows it was really a monster, and now he fears that it will come back for him - or that he will become one himself.

The Devourers by Indra Das

In Kolkata, India, college professor Alok encounters a mysterious stranger who tells him a story of a race of people at once man and beast, and a wanderer in 17th century Mughal who is torn between two worlds.

Thor by Wayne Smith

Thor the German Shepherd is devoted to his suburban family, and when Uncle Ted comes to live with his family, that devotion is put to the test. For Ted is no longer human, and Thor can sense that there is something dark and dangerous hiding inside him, something which he must keep his family safe from.

Wild by Meghan O'Brien

Selene leads a lonely life, avoiding forming close relationships to keep herself and others safe as she turns into a remorseless wolf creature every full moon. Eve is a forensic pathologist who has sworn off romantic relationships after having had an ex cheat on her, focusing instead on catching murderers. But when a masked man attacks Eve and Selene comes to her rescue, the two become unavoidably intertwined as a monster even more dangerous than Selene stalks the streets.

Wolfsong by T.J. Klune

Ox Matheson's neighbors, the Bennett family, aren't ordinary people: they're shapeshifters, able to turn into wolves. Intrigued by their lifestyle, Ox becomes close to the youngest son, Joe. But when murder comes to town, Joe ends up leaving, and won't return until years later. Now adults, the feelings between them can't be denied any longer.

[coolshadowtwins]

SVSSS YQY Fan Fic Round up!

Ok, I finally have them all together! Please enjoy these fanfics, and if you have any to recomend that's not on here, feel free to say! I'll add it later!

First off, The YQY Weekend 2023 AO3 collection and The QiJiu Week 2023 I'm going to recommend as the entire pages! Great places to go find a fanfic to enjoy! Some might be double recomanded, but some should be unique!

Mouse On The Thorn by Lbhs_left_tiddie

On a mission, Yue Qingyuan comes across an omega child, who shares a name and a startling resemblance with his favourite shidi. Shen Qingqiu, however, denies knowing such a child, and make it very clear he wants nothing to do with him.

Without any family or home, Yue Qingyuan instead offers to take care of the child.

Palimpsest by Azzandra

Yue Qingyuan has one giant blindspot as a sect leader, and that's Shen Qingqiu.

But now a curse has made him forget Shen Qingqiu, and that changes some things.

gather jewels from graveyards by formerlyknives 

When strange rumours reach Cang Qiong, Shen Yuan is a little slow to investigate.

He lives to regret it.

The number children by Angry_gremlin_commando

Ten-year-old Mobei Wu, fifth son of the current Mobei-Jun, gets stranded in the human realm after one of his uncle's murder attempts. There he meets fifteen-year-old Yue Qi, fresh out of Lingxi caves and on the way to rescue Shen Jiu.

It turns out even ice demons aren't immune to Yue Qi's Big Brother energy. (This author has a good number of stories to check out! Go look at them!!)

A smile for the master, a snarl for the wolves by Angry_gremlin_commando

Shen Qingqiu and his young disciple Luo Binghe qi-deviate at the same time and swap bodies. It makes them understand some things about each other.

To Plant a Garden by SweetTiramisu

Yue Qingyuan spends so long beneath the earth that he becomes a part of it. Perhaps Shen Qingqiu will plant a garden in him.

Written for Qijiu Week Day 2: Touch Starvation.

bite your way to safety by AMereDream

The Geese come at a time that neither Shen Jiu nor Yue Qi considers ideal. They make it work. (This author has so many good fics! Go read them! This is just the one I chose to put on this list!)

You Were You, And I Was I by MissMegh

Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan qi deviate and turn into their teenaged selves. They don't know who they become. They don't remember the worst moments of their lives. They only know they're together again.

Pretty soon everyone on Cang Qiong Mountain knows they are, too.

Our Sect Leader Is A Baby! by dryingmangoes

Yue Qingyuan gets deaged. Somehow this changes everything.

for day 2 of qijiu week blessing/curse

Treading Well-Worn Paths by mofumofu

After Shen Qingqiu married Luo Binghe, Yue Qingyuan thought his role in the man’s life was over.

However, as he carried the child-sized lord of Qing Jing Peak in his arms, he was grateful for this unexpected opportunity to bond with the person he cherished most.

Shen Yuan, meanwhile, wondered desperately where the hell he was.

hey, share the weight a little by Tossawary

Shang Qinghua is miserable as an outer disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, doubtful that the plot will ever begin, when he finally runs into his first character. Yue Qingyuan is only a boy in desperate need of a helpful friend. Well, why shouldn't Shang Qinghua be that friend? A little investment now when they're young and Shang Qinghua might just be able to survive this world with the support of a sect leader.

It's definitely not because he's also in desperate need of a friend.

(He's definitely not expecting love.)

you're my number one by pennydaniels

Yue Qingyuan is granted a chance to have his heart's deepest desire made real by a mysterious goddess living in a small sect's private temple.

The Evening by kat8cha

Yue Qingyuan wakes up, he gets dressed, he goes to work, he goes to the gym, he goes to a party.

He pays people to tell him what to wear, people to tell him where to be, people to tell him what to do, and pays for someone else's engagement party.

A broken mirror restored by bunnyfication

Yue Qingyuan is hit over the head with the realization that he could ask Shen Qingqiu to marry him, Shen Qingqiu's suspicious mind cannot make sense of the sequence of events. Yue Qingyuan would never, would he? What is this, mind control??? (it's happiness, but neither of them has ever felt it before).

nobody, nobody told me by AMereDream

“Qingqiu-shidi,” he started. “Are you al—”

Xiao Jiu tugged, surprisingly strong for someone who had collapsed out of nowhere less than an hour before. Yue Qingyuan followed, partly out of surprise and partly because it was Xiao Jiu; of course he’d go wherever Xiao Jiu wanted him to be.

He found himself being dragged onto the bed, only the thin sheets separating him from Xiao Jiu's body. His breath caught in his chest, and he clenched his eyes shut.

Xiao Jiu's bony elbows dug into his chest, his thin — too thin, having skipped too many meals even for someone who didn’t need to eat — shoulders curved to meet Yue Qingyuan’s body.

His long hair tickled Yue Qingyuan’s face. He smelled like the honeyed soap he washed his hair with. Yue Qingyuan inhaled covertly, deep and greedy.

 

One morning, Shen Qingqiu woke up a changed man. Yue Qingyuan is left trying to figure out what happened to make him so relaxed and affectionate.

[remembrancersticky]

I had a shower epiphany a few weeks ago and have just been working on cranking out this oneshot. Oh, I had so much fun with this. Thanks to @squishyowl for the dividers! They are very pretty!

You get dragged along for a fishing trip, scent a space wolf, and he carves your name onto his (metaphorical?) heart. Fenrysian is just Norwegian here for the sake of simplicity. Very fluffy given this is 40k. TW for hunting, non-sexual nudity, and cannon-typical violence. Asmundr art here and here.

Space Wolf OC(Asmundr) x Serf!Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.8k Words

The world of Silġ was not the coldest you had ever been to. But it was still the thickest part of winter on this side of the planet, and you could feel the moisture of your breath catch and freeze against your eyelashes when the wind shifted.

You waddled behind the three wolves you served today, waylaid by the heaviest furs and boots you owned and the sled-cart you pulled along behind you. The blizzard that had raged for the last month ended a few days ago, though the warp storm that trapped your ship here had not. The sky still sputtered out a sporadic scattering of snow, powdering the dense ice on which you tread.

The three in front of you wore no more than training armor and pelt. You were envious of their enhanced thermo-regulation as you flexed your fingers to stave off the chill that had seeped through your thick mittens.

“Here,” the venerable veteran, Ægir, announced, stabbing his chainsword into the ice.

You slowed as you caught up to the group and looked about. You were the only thing besides flat ice for several kilometers in any direction.

“Finally!”

The youngest, Asmundr, was not known to keep his opinions to himself at the best of times. He was brash and stubborn in every aspect of his life. He was the one that insisted you join them on this venture.

The company and ship’s crew were trapped on Silġ until the warp storm passed. You had already been stuck more than several weeks and many of the younger warriors were antsy for activity beyond their regular training. And, while rations were not depleted, it did no harm to secure supplementary provisions while they were available. Ergo, the Wolf Lord had allowed the formation of a few small hunting parties.

While you assisted the entire pack as your services were needed, Asmundr had all but named you as his personal serf. Not that he had asked anyone in particular, nor would he ever be granted a personal serf given his rank and status if he had. He was simply dogged in requesting your time, specifically. Not that you minded spending so much time with him; he had grown on you quite a bit, and you enjoyed the stories he would regale you with as you cared for his armor.

And so, here you were. Accompanying the small expedition on their fishing trip. You had given up on getting an explanation for exactly what you were meant to do beyond ferry equipment or attend to whatever unfavorable task may arise. Frankly, it was simply a nice change of pace from the monotony of the last few weeks, nice to be away from the stagnant air of the ship, and you were thankful to have been allowed to attend.

Hodr swiped his boot along the ground to disturb the thick layers of snow and reveal the solid ice beneath. Though not as old as Ægir, the scars upon his face told a story of numerous battles fought with unfettered ferocity. He was cold, stoic, but on occasion you glimpsed something wild lurking deep within his eye.

After stomping solidly on the ice without so much as a crack, Hodr gave a nod to Ægir, who activated his chainsword.

Still stuck in the ice, the blade began throwing up shards of ice and compact snow. You turned slightly and covered your face with a mitten to prevent anything from lodging in your eyes. You felt the pitter patter of debris against your form suddenly disappear. Looking up, it seemed Asmundr unthinkingly shifted his position to effectively shield you from the onslaught.

“Mortal,” Hodr called, as the roar of the sword died down. “Bring the pick and shovel.”

You pulled the tools from the sled and made your way to the hole-in-progress. In order to support the weight of three space marines (and especially the earlier stomping), the ice was undoubtedly thick. This pass with the chainsword had not even been close to reaching the water below. Hodr reached down to grapple with the large slab of ice that had been cut away while you worked on extricating the smaller shards. Once the site was cleared, Asmundr gently pulled you a step back as Ægir began his next series of cuts. This process repeated three times before a sufficient opening was formed.

Standing, you wiped the snow off of your knees and pushed the ice shards nearest the opening away with your boot. Suddenly, you felt something thick and heavy land across your back and weigh down on your shoulders. You were almost embarrassed about the surprised yelp you let out, but it was worth it to hear the youngest of the wolves let out a full bellied laugh.

“I trust you to keep this warm for me, vennen min!” Asmundr’s voice bounced with mirth behind you. You rearranged the large pelt he had thrown on you as you turned to face him. And quickly decided to look anywhere else as he undressed to the fullest extent possible.

“O-Of course, my lord.” You elected to keep your head pointed towards the sky as you extended your hands to take the remainder of his clothes. You could clearly hear the other two wolves snickering behind the sound of blood rushing through your ears. It did not seem nearly as cold out as it did just a few minutes ago.

Asmundr placed the wad of clothes in your hands with a smirk before leaning into the sled to fetch his polespear.

“Be ready, brother,” Ægir said as he nudged Hodr bodily. “You’ll have to make up the pup’s slack.”

The young pup bristled in agitation before he sharply pivoted on his brothers with a note of forced laughter. Coincidentally, you suddenly received a full view of all his glory.

“Ha! Afraid you’re not gonna be able to keep up, old man?”

You forced your eyes not to wander below his ribs, which was very difficult as he stood with his chest puffed out and fists confidently resting on his hips. Your face felt so hot that you thought the ice would melt under your feet and swallow you whole.

Despite your years in service to the Vlka Fenryka, you doubted that you’d ever understand just how…comfortable they seemed to be in their plain skin. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact they were Astartes, specifically. You’d imagine it would be difficult to feel vulnerable in any state with the physique of one of the Emperor’s Angels.

“Worried that you’ll drive the best game away in your haste.” Hodr’s voice sounded suddenly closer than you anticipated. Your heart jumped when you felt his hand reach around from behind you, lifting your chin to look Asmundr in the eyes and gently squishing your cheeks together. “It just won’t do if there isn’t enough to go around.” The narrowing of the younger wolf’s pupils was almost hidden by the steam billowing from his flared nostrils. “We can’t have thralls of skin and bone.” His whisper tickled your ear, sending a shiver shooting up your spine.

“I do not leave her wanting,” Asmundr snarled, closing the distance and gripping Hodr’s wrist tightly. You could hear something creak beneath your chin, but the grip on your face never tightened.

“Prove it.” You could hear Hodr’s grin as he finally released you.

Oh, something in Asmundr’s eyes sparked as he threw his brother’s hand away. He spared you a brief glance as he squared his shoulders and quickly cracked his neck.

“Time me!” Asmundr yelled back to Ægir as he raced to the opening and jumped into the abyss.

The air was pregnant with silence for a moment.

“Well,” Ægir laughed, rough and gravelly, “He should be plenty motivated now!”

Ten minutes. It had already been ten minutes.

A space marine could hold his breath for approximately twenty-five minutes, or so you’d been told.

You had heard from one of the company’s Kaerls that she had once heard a story of a chapter that regularly held their breath for the better part of a standard hour. You thought it sounded a bit outlandish, but you prayed now it was true as the minutes continued ticking on.

The first several minutes were spent in a bit of an awkward silence. Or, at least, you felt it was awkward. You busied yourself by meticulously folding Asmundr’s clothes and running an inventory of the little equipment in the sled before cleaning the hole of any lingering debris. You noted that Hodr’s gaze seemed to return the distant tree line frequently while Ægir whittled away on a piece of bone.

“It’s been ten minutes.” The booming voice of the veteran seemed to rattle through your chest, and you nearly lost your footing at the sudden announcement.

 The undignified sound you made as you recovered your stance drew a chuckle from the eldest wolf.

“I’m curious,” Ægir said, pointing his knife in your direction. “What do you suppose the pup’s hunting for right now?”

You stared blankly at him.

“Fish, my lord?”

That veteran laughed, tried to control himself, and began laughing some more before he started coughing.

“You’re not wrong, thrall,” he conceded. You watched a flock of dark birds chitter and flee their roost in the distance. So far away they were like a smear against the sky.

“You know,” he started back up, dropping his gaze to return to the bone figure he was making. “I was out on campaign with the pup.” A thin flake fell away from his hands. “And it was fierce, to be sure. Well, while we were holed up in some throne-forsaken pit, the daft boy starts singing. Badly, mind you, and quiet, but singing nonetheless. And so, I ask him ‘Boy, what do you think you’re doing?’” Ægir looked up and you realized that you’d thoughtlessly drifted closer as the veteran continued. “And do you know what he tells me?”

“No, my lord.”

“He says, ‘Well, that little serf sings this when she’s in the armory, and I thought maybe it would help me focus.’” Another flake fell from his hand as he scoffs, “Focus, my missing big toe.”

Ægir looked like he was about to continue, loudly, but shut his mouth and looked past you a moment before you heard it.

A loud wet thwacking noise echoed across the empty plane and time seemed to pass slower than usual as you saw a vibrant, gleaming, blue fish that could rival the stature of terminator power armor surge out of the icy depths and caress the grey sky, before making its arched decent like an angry torpedo with needlepoint teeth.

You hadn’t survived this long in such a cruel galaxy without any wits at all, and ran to give the beast a wide berth upon its impact with the surface. Its furiously flailing body splashed little droplets of water against your form, which froze solid in the cold air.

“Ha! No wonder he likes you so much,” Ægir ribbed at you, as he seamlessly stabbed the wriggling thing through the back of its head, piercing whatever brain it could have. “You scurry about like ei lita kanin!”

The burning retort that had definitely been on the tip of your tongue was tragically cut short by a sudden series of muted vibrations that traveled up your legs. Something was hitting the ice…

Your feet were moving before you could think. What help could you realistically offer Asmundr from here? You could not dive into the freezing water, you could not drag him back to safety, you could not even pull his body up onto shore without dislocating your shoulder in the attempt. But you knelt stupidly by the hole anyways; you had to be as close to his side as possible, in case he needed you. Because you would do all those useless things if he so much as hesitated in telling you not to.

Not long after, the surface of the water began bursting with bubbles of air from the depths, bringing with them deep oily blood. You called out to him, as if he would be able to hear you meters away and underwater.

“Mundi! Are you okay?!”

Time seemed to drag on for an eternity as the bubbling died down and the water remained still.

You had just started to loosen the straps of your outermost layers to dive in yourself when a crimson streak began racing towards the surface. You could feel your heart fall back into place.

Asmundr’s red hair clung to his forehead and neck as he beamed at you in pride. Or, as best he could.

The spear he lifted out of the water held four native fish, each easily as long as your arm and thicker around than both of your thighs. A massive bony fish with pearlescent armor still wiggled in his maw, cracked where his fangs dug tightly into its flesh. He threw the spear up onto the ice before hefting his bulk out of the hole.

Sitting on the ledge of the ice beside you, he pulled the fish from his teeth. His smug smile showcased the gleaming red that clung to his canines and dripped down his chin. He glanced about briefly before his expression morphed into one of confusion.

“Where’s Hodr?”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left.

“Not far,” Ægir said. “He picked up a scent while you were out.”

“Are you okay, Mundi?” You had been keenly looking him over for any obvious injuries he may have sustained since he surfaced. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but maybe he just rammed the ice with his thick head. You stood up to get a better look. “It sounded like you hit the ice pretty hard.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t near the ice at all.” Rivulets of water trickled down Asmundr’s body, his core temperature just enough to keep the water from freezing against his skin in the cold air. “Are you sure you’re not the one that hit the ice?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by his teasing tone. You were just relieved that he was okay.

Asmundr’s gaze turned sharply from you to the horizon at a noise you could not hear.

“Finally done batting that pest around, Hodr?”

You turned towards Ægir’s call and watched as Hodr dragged along an enormous, white-feathered land-shark behind him.

“Six minutes,” the wolf bellowed, shaking the leg of his kill. “How long was the pup?”

“Thirteen minutes!”

Something rumbled deep in Asmundr’s chest at the veteran’s announcement and he huffed in irritation. If you hadn’t just been willing to throw yourself into the icy void after your companion out of shear worry, you would have found his pouting cute.

“Mundi,” you started softly as he plopped himself away from his brothers to work on his kills. He did not look up. He was still wet and bare and the wind was still so cold and you did not think you could handle the implausible thought of him catching a chill.

“Mundi, you need to dry off,” you chided as you unwrapped the outermost fur you wore from your waist. It would be warmer and drier than the one he placed on your shoulders, which had kept you plenty warm, but also collected a non-insignificant amount of flurries.

He grumbled something as he continued to work on dislodging his kills from the spear.

You pursed your lips before running the fur across his shoulders and up his neck, before tousling his hair the best you could. You left the fur draped across his shoulders, which he gripped closed across his chest with one hand. He remained incredibly tense before in-taking sharply and shaking his upper body vigorously. You did not escape the resulting splatter.

He tilted his head back to look you in the eyes, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you recognized amusement and joy in them.

“I’m keeping this!” Asmundr announced, sounding very pleased. “But you have to hold onto this,” he tugged slightly at the pelt that still engulfed the entirety of your upper body, “for me, in return.”

The request turned something in your chest.

“Of course,” you agreed, and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

 He smiled up at you in turn, his eyes softening as his gaze lingered. In that moment, it felt as if something in the universe had clicked into place. After a few seconds, he abruptly looked back down and dragged the armored fish over to him.

“And,” he drew the word out for a long moment, as he began carving familiar runes into the pearlescent plating with his spear. “You need to make good use of this.” He passed you the fish barring your name, and you had to steel yourself to keep from tumbling under the weight of it.

[abbysdolly]

RAAAAAAA VIKING ABBY AND READER

(idk if you do x reader stuff i just saw your requests for asks lmao)

⁀➷ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑳𝑭-𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑬𝑫 ˚₊‧⁺˖

𝘷𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘹 𝘷𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

ೀ › 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: OMG anon I've been thinking about viking!abby so many times before! And thank you so much for being officially my first request! hope you like it and sorry if there's any errors hehe. (Also I took the last name for Abby because of Eivor the main character of Assassin's Creed Valhalla, and the style of female Eivor is how I envision viking!abby) ♡

ೀ › 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Reader is female, suggestive content so minors do not interact, fluff and lightly mention of battles and scars. Let me know if there's anything else! ♡

(Special thanks to @andromeda-abides and @little-star-bun who helped me proofread this fic ♡)

There she was. Accompanied by the imposing howl of wolves, ax in hand. Crimson droplets adorned her shield and clothes while her slightly chapped lips quivered with irrepressible courage. She fought like no man known could. The way her ax moved smoothly like the wind itself was hypnotic and filled with such grace, passion and anger.

Her golden hair trapped in tiny and big braids, some strands danced freely adorned with silver rings that made it look like the golden light of the sun combined with the mysterious silver stars from the midnight sky.

And in that exact moment you knew that your heart belonged to her, for eternity.

The stories people told didn't do her justice. Especially the first time you saw her fight. The first time your eyes and hers connected with deep love and devotion between the clashing of axes and bodies that now sleeped eternally waiting for the Valkyries.

Like a ravenous wolf she ended every enemy in sight; she was a living myth. Some even believed that she was perhaps the unknown daughter of Odin himself, given that her strength was comparable to the All-father himself.

But only you could see the truth behind those tough looks and that pretty scar that adorned one side of her face, a scar of forgotten battles that helped her to build the respect she had now. You could see the woman who had fears and weakness like all humans, but there was nothing more beautiful to you.

"Freyja, Lady of the North, empower me. Give me strength, withhold my fear, embolden my spirit... Give me courage" she whispered, the familiar view of her kneeled in front of the wooden statue of the Goddess only meant that another battle was waiting beyond the threshold of your shared home.

The prayers to the Goddess Freyja and Odin were the only things that accompanied Abby to her battles, the battles to defend the honor of her people and most importantly to defend the land where you lived in peace with her.

"They are back, they are safe!" one of the children shouted while running to the entry of the village. Soon enough you heard the cries of the families that awaited for their beloved ones.

Your feet moved with such speed, eager eyes searching for Abby that was greeting the many children around her that were impatient to know the adventures she had this time.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you all that we saw before dinner!" she answered to the children who ran and laughed around her.

Her beautiful eyes met yours making you feel goosebumps like the first time you exchanged looks with her.

A tender smile found a place in her face. She fought for days and she was beyond tired but seeing you was the best part of coming back home.

"Abby, you're back! Oh you can't imagine how much I missed you. Are you alright? Are you injured?" your voice breaking like the thin ice that covers the rivers in the winter, filled with emotion.

Trembling hands caressed Abby's face, making sure she was really there and not something created by your mind. But no, she was there with you.

"Of course I'm back, like I always do" she responded with a now toothy smile and continued "Shh, shh. I'm alright my love, I'm here with you… Finally" her lips soon found yours with deep need and desire, her familiar pine scent filled your senses while the heated kiss said better than any words could.

"Let me help clean you up before dinner, you need to rest my love" you whispered once the kiss ended, her forehead pressed slightly to yours while her big and calloused hands holded your face with tenderness.

A surprised gasp left your mouth as soon as you were now being carried away by Abby, your waist resting against one of her broad shoulders like it was nothing.

Shortly after between laughs she put you down, the door already opened because of the urge to see her a couple of minutes ago "Well, thank you for the ride" you teased as a smirk appeared on Abby's face.

She sat on one of the two wooden chairs, humming when you began to peel off each one of her clothes leaving her upper body bare "You don't have to thank me, I like carrying pretty girls" her cocky attitude always made you smile endlessly, Abby carried herself with lot of self confidence and you couldn't blame her, she was powerful and beautiful. And she knew it.

"Oh, so you carry every pretty girl that crosses your view?" you questioned, eyebrow arched slightly. Your question made her chuckle "Well, not exactly. Just one pretty girl caught my sight… and my heart" she revealed, her voice and gestures exaggerated making her look like a teenager in love and you couldn't help but roll your eyes and smile at her.

"You're such a tease, Abby Wolf-Kissed" her legs opened to leave place to yours, your hands undoing her tight braids making her blonde locks fall beyond her shoulders and covering her chest slightly "But I love you that way" you continued, this time in a gentle and loving whisper due to the closeness. The dim and warm light of the lantern illuminated the scars spaced across Abby's body, your fingertips traced along them and you remembered how some of them were cleaned and treated by you.

She looks up at you, feeling safe under your gaze and touch "I thank the gods for letting me see you again. And I thank you for doing my duties while I'm away" her hands found home on your waist trying to have you closer.

"You don't need to thank me, Abby. I enjoy taking care of our people like you always do, I thank the gods as well for bringing you back to me… Safe'' her eyes sparkled beautifully and just by looking at them you could feel all the love behind those icy orbs.

Her hands caressed your waist going down slightly to your thighs, missing the feeling of your warm body against the skin of her rough hands. Your cheeks warmed up at the familiar feeling of her hands roaming your body with such confidence, your body molding like clay under her hands making your current task of cleaning her body something so hard to do.

Her eyes never left your face as you tried to soak a piece of cloth to clean hers. The black painting around her eyes now slightly faded and easily to clean, the dirt going away allowing you to see those pretty freckles spaced across her nose and cheeks "You're so beautiful" you whispered again now cleaning her neck and shoulders, the air thick enough that Abby could cut it with her ax.

She smiled, her cheeks getting warm as soon as she heard your compliment. Even though she was tough and strong you could make her so shy with just a compliment "Not as beautiful as you, my love" she answered in a whisper, the muscles of her toned arms flexing each time you passed the wet cloth on her warm and freckled skin.

Her gentle, slightly calloused hand cupped your cheek, searching for those beautiful eyes of yours. Searching for those pretty lips she craved so badly until she couldn't control herself anymore and stole a kiss from them. The passion glowed through both your pores and each gentle touch said a small "I love you" onto the other's skin.

The only thing in your mind was her and only her, all of her. Her smell, her hair, her lips, her body, how warm she was, everything.

"I have something for you" she breathed between the heated kisses. "Close your eyes for me, please" her velvety voice making your head fuzzy (obviously not for the heated make out session you had a couple of seconds ago).

And so you did, you closed your eyes and sighed nervously. Her gifts and surprises were always exciting but this time everything felt even more intimate, more serious.

Gently Abby put a gold ring out of one of the tiny pockets in her belt.

"Open your eyes now, my love" she whispered, leaving a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose while putting the precious ring on the palm of your hand. Her heartbeat fast, eager to see your reaction.

Your eyes opened slowly seeing her red cheeks and a shy smile, she took your hand and took the ring again putting it slowly on your ring finger, eyes not leaving yours.

The ring was shaped like a little flower with gemstones for the petals, each one shining beautifully almost like Abby's eyes. "Oh Abby this is so beautiful, you–" she cut you off with a gentle kiss on your lips "My love… Would you marry me?" each side of her hands on your face as she said that, her voice making you enter to the Valhalla almost instantly.

"Of course I want to Abby! I would be so glad to be your wife. I'd love to" you answered with tears of happiness running down your cheeks. Her smile grew bigger from the pride of finally having you as her precious wife. Her strong arms lifted you with ease and she laughed with joy while she spinned you around the house.

Both of your hearts felt the same thing as the first time you saw each other. With unconditional love and devotion, though she wasn't a seer, she definitely saw that you were for her and only her; your destinies were sewn together by Fregga herself.

Thank you for reading! Any like reblog or comment are really appreciated, have a good day/night and don´t forget to drink water! love ya! ♡

[pathetic-gamer]

Fashion in Fódlan: a very long, non-comprehensive, and entirely unsolicited analysis

The fe3h writers did a pretty solid job of creating three nations with clear social, economic, and political differences. The fashion stands out to me as doing exceptionally well at expressing those differences, and, just like in the real world, it works as a sort of socioeconomic barometer that helps tell Fódlan's story.

In this post, I'll break down the key clothing trends in the three regions and provide some light interpretations, largely related to $$

Please note that I'm NOT using this post to discuss historical inspirations. Also, not everyone from every region is included. In particular, anyone whose outfit is too much of just a riff on a class uniform (like the Ashen Wolves or the various minsters in the empire) is left out.

There's a part 2 now lol (church of seiros time); part 3 as well!

1. Holy Kingdom of Faerghus: function IS fashion, baby!!

Fearghus, beloved land of ice and snow and spooky folktales about watering your fields with blood and ghosts living under the ground - you did not come to fuck around. You're here to protect the commoners and go back home to a stew that may, if you're lucky, actually have some meat in it. In this kingdom, you're going to dress warm and you're going to like it. Oh, you have some extra money? Gonna spend it on something for yourself? Better be using it for something useful, like keeping your plate armor in good condition. (Please note: Catherine, though being Faeghan, is excluded because she wears the uniform of the Knights of Seiros, not her own clothes.)

Trends:

High collars, long skirts - generally as little exposed skin as possible. (There is exactly one pair of bare hands in the entire kingdom. Mercie is getting a little bold 👀)

Fur cloaks/capes/gloves, or just fur around the cuffs and collars if they don't have a full fur cloak.

Armor - every single man is dressed in armor, as is Ingrid. Most of the men have full suits of plate armor, but Felix, Rodrigue, and Ashe are wearing only gambesons (note the quilting in Felix's sleeve - that's what gives it away, imo). The folks in plate armor would have gambesons on as well (you can see Ingrid's underneath her breastplate), acting as padding for the plate armor. I think Gilbert is wearing plate armor with a tunic over it (a realistic historical practice).

Fastening is accomplished with clasps and lacing, and there are relatively few buttons or adornments to be seen on the main garments - Annette is an exception, which will be addressed later.

Brief analysis:

Notice the economical use of fabric - their clothing tends to lie flat, with fabric being layered for warmth rather than pleated, gathered, or puffed. The folks in plate armor may spice it up a little with a sash of some kind if they aren't already wearing a cloak or cape. I'm assuming Gilbert's ~stylish tunic~ is keeping him warm well enough to not need a cloak or larger scarf. (Mercedes has a ruffles and puffier sleeves, plus a fuller skirt, but it's worth noting that she is currently part of a merchant house, and merchants tend to be wealthier and actually occupy a unique social class between nobles and commoners.)

Note the colors, too. Greens, browns, and yellows are the cheapest and easiest dyes to make and use. That bright sort of tawny color that Gilbert, Annette, and Jeralt all have is easy and cheap. Gilbert's grey tunic could feasibly just be undyed wool. A true blue is difficult, but you'll note that the blue the people wear up here leans towards grey and green - could be that the dye is faded, or that it was never very blue to begin with. The only true blue is on Dimitri.

All of this reinforces the idea that Faerghus is not a rich nation, and the nobility don't live too far off from the common folk. The vast majority of the cost we see is actually their armor (worn by Dimitri, Dedue, Sylvain, Gilbert, Jeralt, Matthias, Ingrid, and also if we're getting all the way into it, Gwendal, Miklan, Lonato, and Baron Dominic as well), which is would have been pretty expensive. You'll notice they mostly wear grey armor with very little extra decoration, keeping the costs low. Ingrid, the poorest of the nobles in armor, also has the least actual plate. Felix and Rodrigue both have full cloaks, which most other people don't have (just Dimitri), but they also aren't wearing plate, so clearly that's a calculated choice.

That being said, even within these more economical fashions, we can still see clear differences between classes. Most noticeably, Felix (rich) and Ashe (not rich) have very similar outfits, but Felix's tunic/gambeson is lined with fur, while Ashe's is not.

BTW I'm of the opinion that the Fraldariuses are the richest people in the kingdom other than the royal family, and I believe that specifically of their fancy cloaks lol

so luxurious~

2. Adrestian Empire: look at my money bitch

Ah, the land of beauty and excess! I love to live in the capital and visit the cultural icon that is the opera and pretend that I'm not in Wealth Inequality Central. (Please note: Petra is not included, since she dresses according to Brigid's fashions. Also note: I fuck w these styles so hard, dude.)

Trends:

Short skirts (above the knee - Dorothea has a draped over-skirt thing, but her main skirt is shorter, and Manuela has leg slits instead of a short hem), low or square necklines, open backs. In general, we're looking at a lot of exposed skin. Forgot to include Cornelia in the pics, but she has this too.

Tailored jackets with just SO many buttons. Hanneman fits into the tailored jacket category, but isn't included in the highlights by virtue of Not Enough Buttons. (Some concept art is included here to drive the point home.)

Finally, there's this specific very specific double-breasted neckline thing (baby edelgard is separate bc i forgot to include her when i made the first image shhhh)

Brief analysis:

Adrestian fashion is all about displaying status and wealth, in this case through ornamentation, rich colors, uniforms denoting class/role, and also a fair amount of excess fabric.

Historically, fabric itself was one of the major indicators of wealth - in fact, certain historical styles very explicitly showed off just who was rich enough to afford, for example, a whole gown made from the same length of fabric, or even just an entire skirt panel with no piecing. In the Adrestian Empire, We've got excess fabric galore, tucked away into all those beautiful ruffles and bell sleeves, layered skirts, unnecessary capes, double collars, and puffy pants - and it's all in much more luxurious colors, too. In fact, I'm pretty sure the largest single piece of fabric on anyone in the game is Edelgard's cape, which is then also adorned with dozens of buttons and extra bits of fabric. It's almost definitely fully silk, both the outer layer and the lining. (And it's badass.)

Look at all that fluff! Dimitri's cloak probably rivals hers in the size of the actual fabric itself, but his is likely a heavy wool (unlined, maybe?), plus has a lot of fur.

"Oh, but pg, there are capes in Faerghus, too!" yes, but in Faerghus, they live in the arctic /hj. Note the vast expanses of exposed skin down here in the empire - clearly, cold is not an issue. You'll also note that the cloaks in Faerghus were heavy and lined with fur; that's not the case here. Given the prevalence of tailored jackets and the dual colors on Ferdinand's cape, I'm guessing they're either a comparatively lightweight wool with a silk lining (typical for tailored suit jackets, nothing particularly noteworthy about that), or just fully silk. (Bernie's shawl is just cotton though, prove me wrong...) Hanneman and Manuela are exceptions, since they both have fur, but they live at Garreg Mach, not in Enbarr.

The jackets themselves, by the way, could be silk OR wool. Ferdinand's in particular (especially thropes) reminds me of early 18th c. waistcoats, which would have been full silk.

We also have much richer colors down here in the land of art and song. Red, purple, and black were all very difficult colors to maintain, and very expensive. The most expensive colors, in fact. Not gonna lie, as far as price per yardage goes, I think Hubert's outfit might rival Edelgard’s in expense.

A notable exception to the excess fabric bit is Bernadetta. However, her dress is in what is arguably the most expensive color, and is heavily decorated, so that's a reasonable trade-off, and I don't blame her. I, too, would go for a smaller amount of pretty purple silk embroidered with bright, beautiful gold and yellow instead of a bigger, more impressive-looking option. It's about the little things.

I do want to take look at Caspar, in particular. He's unique in that he's dressed in a full suit of armor. But, given that he's the second son and not set to inherit anything, unlike all his waistcoat-wearing friends, he isn't being held to some particular uniform, and even if he were, it's the ministry of military affairs. Of course they wear real armor. What's interesting is that his armor is a sort of rosy grey/brass, rather than silver, and he has a lot more decoration and flair than the folks with full armor in Faerghus, in both his throuses and thropes outfits.

Worth noting, btw, that we have exactly zero examples of actual commoners in Adrestia, other than generic NPCs. Dorothea belongs to that peculiar niche that is opera and acting, so she is expected to dress and act like a noble, despite not having a title or property of any sort.

Adrestia - and Enbarr in particular - leads the slow march of fashion across Fódlan, given that it's a cultural hub and is so much wealthier, while Fearghus slowly picks things up over time. Thus, we have Annette, who lives closer to the empire and has disposable income, having some decorative buttons and tassels and a mock low neckline.

It's not nearly as much as the actual Adrestians, but she's picking it up!

3. Leicester Alliance: the beeeest of both worlds~

Oh, Alliance, you messy bitch. What we see here is a mix of everything, where some of them are influenced by Faerghus, and others by Adrestia (just like how some of them have kingdom-style names and some have empire-style names), and a few fit neither camp. There are clear reasons for similarities where they exist, though, so let's take a look! (Please note: Claude is not included, since his clothes are heavily influenced by Almyra.)

Hilda and Lysithea have the frills, puffy sleeves/skirt, short hems, low/square necklines, and expensive colors of the empire (plus, Lysithea gets a decorative veil in dark purple. How ~fancy~). This reinforces the idea that Adrestia sets the standards for fashion: Hilda cares about fashion and keeps up with the times. Lysithea lives on the border and was briefly under the control of the empire, and thus is influenced by it. Mostly, though, I think it's about how she tries to seem older and tends to see Hilda as a model of maturity (lol), so she's following that example.

Holst's armor is quite decorative, similar to Caspar's, but what stands out to me is the fringe in particular. We see the exact same fringe on Caspar, Hubert, and Edelgard, but not anywhere else.

Lorenz and Erwin are a bit of a border case, tbh! They both wear practical, full plate armor with little in the way of extra decor (other than Lorenz's rose and Erwin's little cape thing), but Jesus christ how much does it cost to keep it all so purple like that??? That's a blatant display of wealth that would impress any empire noble.

Marianne, on the other hand, would fit right in in Faerghus, with the old fashioned long skirt, high collar, capelet, and lack of extra decoration other than some pretty trim. Makes sense, since her territory is so close to the kingdom and she's clearly not interested in trying to stay fashionable.

Judith is dressed very practically, has some fun puffy sleeves and bright but inexpensive colors, has a short cape and gambeson (a short vest one, though). I want to say leans toward Faerghus, which makes sense since it's on the border and the house did at one point split off, with part going back to the kingdom.

Now we get to the only real, honest-to-god, never-owned-land-or-property, born-as-and-remain-now peasants/commoners: Leonie and Cyril. (Raphael was born into the merchant class and was able to support himself and Maya by selling his estate, so while we can consider him a real commoner at this point, it's not nearly to the same degree.)

Their economic status is obvious from their outfits: both have very practical clothes with no extra decoration, in cheap and easily accessible colors. Leonie's cloak wrapped around her waist is purely functional - she can use it when the weather calls for it, but it's out of the way of her arrows when she doesn't need it - and looks to be pretty soft, so likely is lightweight. She has a hint of some light protective wear (note the quilted sleeve) and the same front clasps as Felix and Ashe, so i think she's also meant to be wearing a gambeson, but it's shorter and less protective. Cyril doesn't seem to have any armor at all except for the shoulder protection - we can tell from the lack of center-front closures on his shirt and the shape of the cuffs of the sleeves that he's actually just wearing a tunic (or rather, two tunics on top of each other).

Raphael also has a very practical outfit, but notice that his is so much more protective, probably because he has a little more money than the other two. He has very limited, sparsely placed plate armor, but he is covered head-to-toe in quilted cloth armor. He's ready to get some punching done, baby!

Our real outlier, however, is Ignatz... But you bet your bottom dollar I've got an explanation for that one, too!!!!! Mans is an artist and he has rich(?) merchant parents, he can do whatever he wants.

Absurdly unnecessary lengths of (probably not very expensive) cloth? Sure. Fancy feathers that literally no one else gets? Why not! A billion buttons, half of which arent even keeping anything closed? Curly and intricate cloak fasteners probably made of some kind of cording? Sashes and tassels and a decorative sword??? Fuck it, we ball. I love this so much, it's easily my favorite outfit in the entire game and I would ABSOLUTELY wear it irl. I already have the right haircut and glasses and boots, I'm ready

4. In conclusion

These designs really are Fódlan in a nutshell. From the quiet wealth and functionality in Felix's fur-lined gambeson to the audacious luxury of Ferdinand's waistcoat to the unrepentant anarchism of Ignatz's entire vibe, we can see the history - and future - of the continent outlined right before our eyes:

Faerghus is cold, practical, focused on survival, and probably has the most even distribution of wealth. Leicester is a mix of remnants of the empire and kingdom, with clear wealth disparity but also a relatively high amount of social mobility and communal support systems. Adrestia has significantly wealth disparity, with nobles very disconnected from their people and instead busy politicking about.

Side note I know I said I wouldn't go into the historical inspirations, BUT I do think it's interesting that the men's clothing in Adrestia - particularly the tailoring - is similar to much later styles than the men's clothing in Faerghus, and the reverse is true of the women's sleeves and necklines.

Okay that's all, thanks for reading!