#strawberry damsel

[systimming]

A Damsel fictive with rabbits + doll + strawberry stims!

- Mod Primarina.

((Sources of gifs: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x ))

[astrolovecosmos]

The 5th House + Romantic Themes/Tropes

Aries in the 5th House: Knight or hero saving their damsel in distress, competitor suitors, "bad boy/bad girl" with "nice guy/girl" dynamics, queen/princess saving the king/prince, a hard to catch chase, red roses and red lipstick, athlete or warrior connected love story, second chance love stories, couple vs. nature or unknown as they pioneer a new frontier, lingerie, things move fast, "no one else like you", fated lovers, lover's quarrels, innocent love, first loves, love at first sight.

Taurus in the 5th House: Worshipping each other's bodies, making love in nature, paradise themes, fancy venues, luxury, secret prince/billionaire stories, Cinderella-like stories, seduction, sensuality, aphrodisiacs, massages, the fastest way to their heart is through the stomach, willpower, ugly duckling themes, silk and cashmere, kisses on the neck, serenading, rose petals on the bed.

Gemini in the 5th House: Friends to lovers, pretend relationship tropes, sexting, online dating stories, pen pal lovers, long distance relationships, romantic academia, coffee dates, study dates, eloquence, unexpected softness, talking dirty, rivalries to lovers, Kama Sutra, twists and turns, love letters, vocalness, teasing, arguments.

Cancer in the 5th House: Old friend or flame love stories - maybe similar to second chances, parent trap themes, moonlight, waterfalls, ocean waves, baths, intimacy in the shower, cuddles, feeling wanted or needed, private or secret lovers, waterbeds, remembering and celebrating important dates like anniversaries and birthdays, sentimental love, nurturing their lover back to health themes, pearls and silver, traditional love themes, Romeo and Juliette, Titanic vibes, homecooked meals or lunches, long hugs.

Leo in the 5th House: Holiday romances or flings, everyone else can see how fated or good they are with someone - but they themselves are oblivious, wine, dance floors, flattery, adoration, gold, luxury, sex on the beach, roleplay, hot-blooded passion, romance that involves royalty, center of attention, turns heads, strip tease, mirror on the ceiling, professing undying love, great adventures, drama galore or a love worthy of the stage.

Virgo in the 5th House: High School sweethearts, devoted lover who does a service or keeps a promise for a dead partner, defending someone's honor or being defended, saving their lover from a bad partner or ex, loyal servant and royalty loves, light tracing, tickling, taking care of someone or nurturing them back to health, sexy outfits, plenty of praise and appreciation, couple's spa day or massage, attentive, caring, the details in love matter.

Libra in the 5th House: Love triangle stories, masquerades, balls, Parisian love stories or themes, opposites attract, wedding related romances (meeting at a wedding or stopping a wedding), lovers against the odds, love potions, star-crossed lovers, matchmaking, sunsets, pastels, clouds, rivals or enemies to lovers but with grace or focus on making peace, sensual moments, biting lips, charm counts for something, perfume, candles, oils, flower petals, champaign, strawberries or cherries, feathers, cliche seduction, inspirational love, love and art, love songs.

Scorpio in the 5th House: Enemies to lovers, dark romances, horror and romance, forbidden love, secret romances, "if I can’t have you, nobody will", vampires, magic or the occult, Phantom of the Opera, passionate kisses and touch, lingerie, naked, bondage, power, vulnerability, jealousy or possessiveness themes, leather, being by or in water, strong taste and fragrances, avenging your hurt or dead lover or being avenged, dark fantasies, secluded romantic places, overcoming fears or challenges together, psychology, villains and heroes, transformative love stories.

Sagittarius in the 5th House: Lovers from very different cultures or backgrounds, eloping, loveable rogue themes, fish out of water stories, deep thoughts and discussions, speed dating, daredevils and calling bluffs, adventure, "I can show you a whole new world", exotic romantic places, escaping with your lover, hotel rooms, casino or game nights, learning together, discovering something new about their lover frequently, lucky to find each other, free-spirited love, surprises and passion.

Capricorn in the 5th: Force proximity stories, love that grows or takes time, time-travel romance, historical romances, secret romances, age gap themes, gothic themes, consistency, lotion and oils, romantic music, power dynamics, fine wine, wealth and luxury, secret prince/billionaire stories, earthy and erotic, punishment and submission themes, respect and grace, powerful libidos, leather, antique or fine jewelry, beautiful crystals or gems, great smiles or teeth, unique bouquets, careful lovers.

Aquarius in the 5th House: Sci-fi romance themes, unconventional dynamics or roles, time-travel romance, beautiful minds and/or beloved geniuses, light touch, substances to enhance experiences or feelings, incense or candles, anything goes, the unexpected, unique gifts or romantic gestures, romance that shows how much their lover knows them, rebel lovers, acceptance, deep talks, mind melds, fetishes, spiritual and/or mental challenges, unique beauty, each partner doing their own thing, their lover being the only one to arouse passion in them or vice versa.

Pisces in the 5th House: Running to catch up to their lover at the airport, amnesia related love stories, hopeless romantic, poetry, daydreaming, soulmates, finding a muse or being one, kissing in the rain, foot massages, love songs, satin sheets, skinny dipping, oysters, champagne, roses, making fantasies come to life, eternal promises and fidelity, loving life and love, overly idealistic love stories, fairytales, healing themes, intuitive lovers or psychic connections.

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: Augh I loved writing this so much help- I think the new Damsel movie affected me too much 😭 Biggest thanks to @cashmoneyyysstuff for beta reading this she’s a QUEEN Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Light cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, Shinso is a year younger than reader, reader is 20 years old, f!reader, reader's mother is dead, medieval fantasy setting, reader's childhood friend is Kirishima, but you're also close friends with Deku and Ururaka, mentions of perverted actions (not done by a name character though, reader's nickname is Cactus, slight spoilers of the actual show/manga, reader is shorter than Kirishima and Shinso, some mentions of IzuOcha.

Pairing(s): Katsuki Bakugou x reader, Izuku Midoriya x Ochako Uraraka

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: A Pot of Stew

Ssssss.... 

The crackle of the fireplace is all you really hear as you flit around through your home, grabbing the big stew pot from the wooden cabinet. The house was quiet, which was surprising, considering you lived with three other people.  

Your father was out with his friend, hoping to catch some fish before the harsh winter would freeze over the lakes. You had sent your brother out earlier to fetch some tomatoes from the market, as the small garden you maintained only produced lettuce, potatoes, onions, and strawberries when they were in season. Hopefully the tomatoes your brother brought back could have seeds that you could save to plant in the spring.  

Your sister was most likely out at Chiyo’s home, the old woman ran the local apothecary was sweet enough to allow the small girl to aid her in crushing herbs and spices to create the medicines that lined her shelves.  

Walking outside, you grab the big bucket by the door, making your way to the home of the Kirishimas, who had a well they let you use to fetch water.  

You mentally groan, knowing that carrying a bucket of water would be a bitch to carry back home. Hopefully you could bug your red-haired friend to aid you in carrying it home if he was around.  

He wasn’t there unfortunately, hooking the bucket to the rope before sending it down to collect water. Once if was full, you pulled the rope that you were holding onto with all your strength, allowing the pulley system to bear most of the weight. 

Deadpanning, you know most of the water that spills out will end on you, sighing in defeat with the resignation that complaining will get you nowhere. You had a family to feed.  

Rolling up the sleeves of your white blouse, you grab the bucket’s handle with both hands, almost dropping it from the sheer weight of it, lamenting the cold sting of the water against your skin as it seeps through your leggings.  

It was almost comical, the way your face was scrunched in concentration as you made your way home, watching your step from the occasional loose pebble so you wouldn’t trip. Your muscles ached, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle, considering how much worse you’d been through when it came to other tasks that required similar feats. It was another perk of being the oldest child, though you were only a year older than your brother, yet you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your family meant the world to you, and you would do everything in your power to protect them. 

Reaching the steps leading up to the door of your home, you set the bucket down finally, your arms practically singing in relief, only for you to pick it up again after turning the doorknob and closing the door shut with your boot-clad foot.  

Making your way to the stew pot that was currently sitting over the fire, you fill it with the water you fetched, letting it boil while you prepared the vegetables you needed.  

Busying yourself with chopping the ingredients you already had, you took the sprigs of cilantro you saved from a few days ago and sliced them so they were thin enough. As you worked your way through the small pile, the door opened to reveal a familiar tuft of purple hair.  

“Hey Toshi!” you call out, waving from the kitchen to signal your presence.  

Your brother takes notice, entering the room and setting the sack of tomatoes on the counter before making his way over to you, ruffling your hair in affection before raising an eyebrow.  

“How much stew are you making?” he asks suspiciously “The four of us aren’t going to be able to eat all of that in time before it tastes bad.” 

You snort, rolling your eyes. “You underestimate Eri’s appetite. Plus, Ejiro, Ochako and Izuku are coming over to join us. I’m making enough for each of our families.” 

Hitoshi chuckles in response, walking over to the makeshift pantry you made a few months ago, grabbing a loaf of bread. “Y/N, you would feed the entire village if you could. Actually, you could, but we wouldn’t let you.” he rolls his eyes playfully and you send him a halfhearted glare.  

“It’s called being nice, Mr. Hitoshi Aizawa, a concept foreign to your cold heart.” you say, placing the back of your hand on your forehead dramatically.  

He groans, taking the knife from you to slice the bread, while you move to take the tomatoes. “Ugh stop, you sound like Toshinori.” he gripes, punching your shoulder in annoyance. 

A giggle bursts out of your lips at that, abandoning the tomatoes you were washing in the basket to strike a pose, letting out an “I AM HERE!” in the best Toshinori Yagi impression you could.  

They used to call him All Might, a war hero who was known for bringing your home country countless victories, the wars he entered had casualty numbers so low that you wondered if he was blessed by the gods. Blessed in the past tense though, as after a critical injury in a recent war, he was deemed unable to fight and left the army with an honorable discharge, growing into the old man he was today, running a stand at the marketplace where he sold quality vegetables from his extensive garden. 

You must’ve looked ridiculous as you posed however, because your brother cackles, throwing his head back and smiling so wide his face must’ve hurt. You laugh too, happiness bubbling in your chest from seeing him so happy as well. You chuck an unwashed tomato at him, knowing he’d catch it, and reprimand him.  

“Okay now get back to work you rodent, we’re feeding a group of seven tonight.” you tease, sticking out your tongue and he tosses the tomato back to you, returning to slicing the bread.  

You both spent the next hour or so like that, trading banter and occasionally fighting, but managing to be productive as you finish cutting all your vegetables, throwing them into the stew pot, creating a lovely aroma that makes your stomach growl in hunger.  

You hear a knock at the door, Hitoshi opting to answer it. It was Chiyo, returning Eri home for the day, the girl in question had a bright smile on her face, and a few bottles of unknown liquids in her hands that were sure to join the others in the washroom’s medicine cabinet. 

“Toshi!!” she squeals, and you smile, hearing a small uff! escape the purplenette’s lips, knowing that Eri most likely hugged him around his legs, the only part of him she could really reach at the moment. Sometimes it was infuriating how much taller he was than you. 

Your brother thanks Chiyo, and the old lady leaves with the promise of fresh baked goods during her next visit. 

“Where’s Y/N??” Eri asks excitedly, and you want to snort at her random burst of hyperness.  

“M’over here banana.” you call from where you sat in front of the fireplace, and Eri trudges over with an annoyed look over her face.  

“I told you not to call me that!” she whines, huffing as she sits down next to you, trying to look into the pot to see what you were making.  

“Careful- it’s hot.” You warn, gently pushing her away. “Plus you love bananas!” 

Your little sister makes a face plopping down to lie on the floor with a grumpy expression. “I hate bananas.” she grumbles, stretching her limbs out to take up as much of the floor as she could. 

You quirk up an eyebrow “Are you sure? You sure look like one.” you say gathering her hair once she sits up and holding it high above her head to resemble the elongated shape of a banana fruit. 

She splutters, and you snort releasing her hair, so it falls straight into her face, and returning your attention to the stew, stirring it and taking the wooden spoon you had out, gathering some of the liquid before bringing it to your lips, tasting it briefly.  

“Toshi!” you call from where you sat. “Can you bring me some paprika?”  

You hear a Yeah whatever come from the hallway, and you return your attention back to your sulking sister.  

“Y’know for someone so nice, you’re really mean.” she pouts, and you smile in a half hearted apology, fixing her hair.  

“Eri, my job as your sister, as well as Toshi’s as your brother, is to be mean to you because we love you so much. If we were nice to you all the time, wouldn’t we be boring?” you ask. 

“Hmm... I guess. Is Izuku coming over today?” she asks, laying her head on your lap looking up at you with impossibly huge sparkling red puppy eyes.  

You laugh, flicking her nose lightly. Izuku was her favorite out of your friends, probably because he worked in the markets, for Toshinori no less, and he brought her apples every day. 

“Yes, Izuku’s coming over for dinner tonight, so go wash up and be on your best behavior.” you say warningly, and she nods, jumping up excitedly and rushing to your shared room.  

Hitoshi enters the living room at that moment, sprinkling the paprika into the stew until you told him to stop, stirring lightly before tasting and grinning in satisfaction.  

Handing him the spoon, Hitoshi has a taste of his own, his eyes lighting up as the flavors hit his tastebuds.  

“Damn.” is all he says, and you punch his leg, happy that he likes it, but scolding him for his language.  

“Eri’s in the other room idiot, go change and I’ll get dinner served before they get here.” you order, shooing him out and you grab a damp towel from the kitchen to carry the pot into the room, setting it on the countertop and placing aforementioned towel on top so it stays warm. Putting out the fire in the living room, you open a cabinet, grabbing a large plate and exactly seven bowls and spoons. Setting the dishes around the large wooden dining table, you spoon equal amounts of stew into each of the bowls, the aroma even stronger now, and you give Eri extra because you know she’ll ask you for more later. 

You brought out the wooden carved drinking cups that you had, a gift from your late mother, setting them around the table and filling them with some of the remaining water from the well. Putting the plate in the middle of the table, you set the bread Hitoshi cut from earlier along with some goat cheese gifted to you by Izuku the previous day.  

Wiping your hands on your apron, you sigh, about to call for your siblings before you hear a knock at the door, revealing a smiling Ejiro Kirishima.  

“Hey Eji!” you beam, wrapping your arms around your lifelong friend, who reciprocates the action and spins you around before setting you down, welcoming himself in- he'd been to your home so frequently certain mannerisms weren’t needed anymore.  

“Hey Cactus!” he smiles back, and you roll your eyes at the nickname.  

Ejiro insisted that your kindness was always a facade and that you were a fiery beast that even hell was afraid of in secret, and the redhead had given you the nickname once seeing you scold man around your age for trying to look up Ochako’s skirt. You insisted you weren’t usually like this, but the nickname stuck, a term of endearment used only by your closest friends.  

You smack his forearm, and roll your eyes, still smiling however, leading him to the dining room before calling out for your siblings.    

Eri bounds in, only to be swept up in Ejiro’s arms, giggling as he spins her around to simulate flight.  

He sets her down and she jumps up, “Again, again!” she chants.  

He groans, feigning pain. “But you’re so heavy!” He says, pretending to faint in your direction, and you roll your eyes and push him off, laughing. “I think you got bigger since the last time I saw you.” 

Eri giggles, putting her hands on her hips. “I saw you this morning silly! That was only...” she counts on her fingers. “47 hours ago!”  

You want to laugh, knowing that it was only about 13 hours since she last saw the red haired male, but Ejiro only groans even more.  

“Exactly! You grew so much from then! You might become even taller than your sister.” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.  

Eri giggles, and Hitoshi joins you three in the living room, stealing a piece of cheese from the table and popping it in his mouth.  

"I'm not short!" You grumble, crossing your arms. "You and Hitoshi are just stupidly tall."

You hear another knock on the door, leaving Ejiro and your siblings to their devices as you answer it. Opening the door, you’re met with Izuku, accompanied by Ochako, both giving you a hug as you let them in, exchanging their signature greetings.  

“Hey Cactus!” they both chirp in unison and you snort, ruffling Izuku’s hair and squeezing Ochako’s shoulder.  

“Hey you two!” you say, smiling knowingly. Ever since the two of them became a couple, they were practically joined at the hip.  

You make your way to the dining room, where Ejiro is seen with Eri on his shoulders, the latter playing with former’s hair while he talks to your brother.  

Eri’s eyes light up, practically launching herself off the poor red head- thankfully Izuku catches her, producing another apple from his satchel.  

You groan, knowing that if Eri ate too many she would grow to get sick of them, but you let her be, knowing that she was happy.  

You all sit down to eat, Shinso on one side of you and Eri on the other. Ejiro sat next to your brother and Izuku sat next to Eri with his girlfriend on his other side.  

Catching up with your friends, and eating the food you made, your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the empty seat at the head of the table, where your father sat.  

He still hadn’t returned from his fishing trip.  

You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, yet you couldn’t help but worry. Your father, Shota Aizawa sustained a terrible injury in a war a few years ago, forcing him to amputate his own leg in order to prevent the toxins from a poison covered arrow from reaching his neural system. It was the same year your mother had died, leaving you, a grieving ten-year-old you to take care of your father as well as a nine-year-old Hitoshi and a newborn Eri. You were forced to grow up fast in those times, a dark patch for your family, yet it became a big part of who you were today.  

Which included your boundless paranoia, thinking the worst as the time ticked by, with no sight of your father.  

Hitoshi takes notice, sending you a worried glance, opening his mouth to say something before the door swings open. 

It was your father, relief flooding through you before you took in his haggard state. He looks tired, more tired than usual. Your father always looked tired, but never weary.  

His eyes scan the room, frantically looking around, before the settle on you.  

“I have bad news.” 

Taglist: @andysdrafts @starieq @nemisimp @missa-archdevilme @coquettefoxxy

@032loe @icedemon1314 @fta1ask4 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @cuppalevi

@touyasprettydoll @slayfics @yeehawgiddyup13 @notjustanotherextra @frvv

@naoyasbby @sweetblueworm @isentsworld @bkgpackets @moonnm

@bkgrl @satoruyes @eyesforbkg @juicyfingers @aejabba

@noodleryworld @yui-aya @ashiblossom @rv19 @wheezdostuff

@yannvi @liluvtojineteyam @ah-mya @surprisemodafakas

@kksmush @sagejin

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hiii! How are you?? Omg thanks for writing for Jason the lack of fics for him is actually concerning??? Anyway if you feel like it and want to, would you write hc (or whatever u r feeling) about Jason x daughter of Dionysus reader?? I just think it would be a fun dynamic!! Hope you’re having a nice day!!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ jason grace x daughter of dionysus! reader hcs

content: jason grace x daughter of dionysus! reader hcs warning: language and very short :( author's note: i believe i have now officially wrote daughter of dionysus for all of them??? maybe i haven't now that i actually think about it but at this point i might as well ride mr.d's d since him and i are so close like ig i'm having all these daughters????

you guys only met because you literally ran into him

you were running from the demeter kids after accidently overgrowing the strawberries

you didn't understand why it was such a bit deal, but they were starting to foam at the mouth so you took off running

then you saw the blonde roman boy you'd only ever heard off and quickly changed direction towards him

"hey, sparky! wanna help a damsel in distress?!" she called to him, quickly dodging behind his build, using him as a barrier between herself and the rabid demeter kids

jason just stood there, very confused, twisting to see you as you peeked out from behind his waist

"hi," he laughs lightly as your eyes lift to meet him, hair falling in your face and a friendly smile gracing your lips

"hey yourself."

IT WAS THE START OF SOMETHING MAGIC

also, all the demeter kids got rabbis shots that day for uh...unrelated reasons

so after you and jason start dating, you proudly bring jason to your father, presenting him like a prized pig

"he looks very sweet, my dear, but...did you have to pick the roman one? couldn't you find a nice greek boy?"

"DAD!" you argued, before leaning towards him, hissing out, "that's gotta be, like, racist or something. knock it off."

"i'm sorry but back in my day-"

"BACK IN YOUR DAY WAS BEFORE FUCKING BRICK ROADS-"

"YEAH AND I WOULDN'T BE CAUGTH DEAD WITH A ROMAN."

"PLEASE YOU'D SCREW ANYTHING THAT MOVED"

"eh, that was up for debate sometimes."

"not helping your case. like, at all."

you loosen that boy up, which he desperately needs

bro be marching to the bathroom and your just like '??just walk??'

he legit cannot just walk anywhere

shoulder's back, chin up, feet rolling heel to toe, bros got a metronome in his mind

drive you crazy, so you try to trip him up on purpose

you just start walking fast then slow then fast then your skipping and now you're doing imaginary hopscotch

he finds it hard to keep up with all the mental steps and then he's walking like a normal person

you always find great joy in stripping him of his roman trauma

you like to believe that life was meant to be lived for the thrill of it all

every little and huge thing

from doing the laundry to flying to your favorite place in the whole world

there was joy and freedom to be found in all of it, surely

and once jason started dating you, he started to see it too

like, for example, the way plants seemed to lean towards you wherever you went, nearly as entranced as he was

or the way you seem to bring a fun side out of him that he's never seen before but is grateful that you've shown him how to have fun

oh, how about the fact that you hum the song you used to learn how to tie your shoes still to this day

or the fact that you can't go a day without taking a picture of the people you love, you're side of your cabin a splattering of pictures of every person you've ever known

castor's photos have since been put into protective frames and becoming your prized possessions

jason loved seeing the world through your eyes, seeing all it had to offer, all the love and passion that led to every invention or every flower growing out of the ground

he thought you a religion, a set of rules to follow and live by, something virtuous that he'd never fully grasp

and he was quickly becoming a devoted priest for you and you alone, his godly girl

jason would give up elysium or whatever waited for him if it meant he could go where you go

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi i was wondering if you could maybe write a clarisse la rue x reader fluff and the reader uses they/them pronouns?

Soft!Clarisse incoming!!! 🦦

‘Ow…’ you groaned as you accidentally moved in a way that didn’t agree with your plethora of injuries as you tried to relax in the medbay. ‘That didn’t go exactly to plan did it?’

Clarisse raised her brows, ‘you think?’ She said incredulously as she gestured to your state as though the answer was blatantly obvious. ‘You almost got yourself skewered out there if I weren’t there to step in.’

‘My hero, always there to save her damsel in distress.’ You laughed lightly but immediately came to regret it when your midsection began to ache and flare up with pain. Clarisse snorted as she reached for the glass of ambrosia from the bedside table, adjusting the straw so that it would be easier for you to take sips from as strawberries, chocolate milk and warm sticky toffee pudding filled your sense. ‘More like pain in my ass who actively tries to test the fates by getting themselves killed.’

‘Isn’t that just the regular demi-god experience?’ You asked, trying to make the situation more lighthearted, but all you could think was how Lilly you were for Clarisse being there when you needed her most. You didn’t like to think of what would’ve happened had you been completely and utterly separated from her and Silena Beauregard; it scared you too much to imagine it and you preferred not to even bother enticing the dark thought. ‘But thank you, for saving me and all…I-‘

‘Don’t.’ Clarisse cut you off.

‘But-‘

‘I said don’t.’ She said more firmly as she stared at you with eyes filled with fury and worry. ‘Don’t you even think it, say it or otherwise. You’re here and you’re safe and that’s all that should matter, understand?’ You smiled sadly at her and reached for her hand, wiggling your fingers at her to take your hand and audibly sighed in relief when she did, her thumb providing you some comfort by caressing the back of your hand; It was weird for a child of ares to be so uncharacteristically soft and gentle but you loved the fact that you were possibly the only person that Clarisse felt comfortable with in seeing her this way.

After all you and Clarisse has this weird will they, won’t they thing going off ever since you bested her in training once on a whim.

‘I understand.’ You said softly, squeezing her hand to reassure her that you were real, that you were with her, that she did arrive in time to stop the killing blow and finished the fight with a rage and absolute ruthlessness of which you have never seen before until then. It was frightening but at the end of the day she was still your Clarisse.

‘Good.’ Clarisse grunts, looking away from you to scratch the brim of her nose, a habit you’ve noticed in recent days that she only did when she was nervous. Really nervous. ‘Good.’ She reiterated, squeezing your hand for good measure. ‘Now get some rest.’ You must’ve looked as though you were about to have a panic attack at the thought of being left alone because Clarisse then added. ‘I’m not going anywhere, you just look exhausted and besides,’ she smiled, ‘I have to keep my damsel in distress safe as they slumber after all.’

You smiled back at her and fell into a relaxed enough state to fall asleep but before you did, you muttered sleepily. ‘My knight in shining armour.’

[thesirencult]

Pick A Card : Messages From Your Future Spouse

3 Piles. Take a deep breath and let a number come into your mind.

Scroll down to see your message.

Pile 1

9 Of Pentacles, Knight Of Pentacles, The Moon, 5 Of Swords, 3 Of Wands

stars align, the princess and the frog, shrek, damsel in distress, trips in nature, building from scratch, independent woman/man, symbols, background check

"You've been waiting for tto long my love. The stars are aligning on our horizon as soon as the sun will come down.

Slow and steady wins the race and although it seems like I'm not coming at all, just keep holding on !

There are so many things I wanna say to you. So many places I want to take you. My beautiful princess ! Your knight in shining armour is coming !

In the background the stars are aligning. Remember my words ...

A lot of things are happening in the background.

I'm working on building a beautiful garden for my little flower now. I want abundance to flow in our lives and no money issues to get between us.

I'm not what I seem at first."

Pile 2

The Star, 3 Of Wands, Page Of Wands

wishing upon a star, tale as old as time, a dream is a wish your heart makes, soon, red and purple, indigo child, I see red, impatience, a spoiled kid wanting his candy, excited, spoiled rotten, used to getting their way

"I'm not the patient type. Clearly.

I want you fast. I want you now.

I want you late in the evening and early in the morning.

You're my first and last thought of the day.

I know that this creeps you out but I have pure intentions...

Life has not been kind to me and I feel entitled to your energy.

You're the only thing I'm hoping for.

Your presence will scratch away all the false starts and dreams.

Sweep me off my feet. Break me to heal me.

Make me who I'm supposed to be.

Love, love, love is the only thing that comes to mind when I hear your name.

Are you coming for me ? Where are you my sweetness. Your nectar is calling me home. You are my home. Where are you my love ?"

Pile 3

9 Of Pentacles, 10 Of Swords, 7 Of Cups

your kiss tastes like strawberries, your lips look like cherry blossom, the number 3/33/333/1133, deja vu, back to the future, homecoming, pink, everything is blue

"My love,

You're the fruit of my labour. You're the gift life had in store for me. Everything that's mine is yours now. I'm so happy you're here. I can feel your energy and it feels like the dusk on the equinox.

I was betrayed and feeling very low before you came to me. Everyone left me. Only you have the ability to heal me.

I know what you're thinking. I've put you on the highest pedestal there is and I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to pressure you. It's just that I'm very excited for your physical arrival.

I know that if you left me I would be destroyed. The power of destruction and helping lies in your hands.

I spend a lot of time day dreaming about us. I've had enough time to picture our whole life together 😅.

Forgive me.

I will adjust my daydreams to your wants and needs my fairytale ❤️.

Yours forever,

Soulmate"

[spideyanakin]

Zuko fic recs

Other Fic Recs 🌱

Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Works by @fandomlit

Past lovers

Zuko being nervous on your wedding day

The play

Works by @beifongsss

Life changing field trip

Fake it til you make it

Works by @echnated

Impulse (THE WAY I SOBBED)

Damsel in distress (this fic <3)

Works by @patchofsunlight 

Purple Strawberries

Back to you

You and zuko falling for each other 

Warmth 

Works by me

Don’t let the sun come down on me (mini series)

Works by other amazing writers 

My moon by @xreaderxo (STOP I ACTUALLY CRIED READING THIS) 

Not enough by @imaginedxlan

During my break? By @maddywritez

Inamorata by @azucanela

The gaang not knowing your relationship by @melzula

Your eyes tell by @asciendo

The dark side of the moon by @muertawrites

Pai sho by @just-another-author-i-guess

Zuko meeting the reader at the tea shop by @reinerispretty

please keep loving me by @biqherosix

Best kind of medicine by @panda-noosh

[ghostheartfelt]

*:･｡☆ tags: damsel in distress!reader, reader will have a father daughter relationship with dutch, slowburn romance, no use of y/n, reader is nicknamed "Miracle" once she settles in with the gang. THIS IS SET BEFORE THE FLEE OF BLACKWATER.

*:･｡☆ warnings: mentions of kidnapping/attempts of kidnapping, blood and gore (mostly js people gettin shot n shit 🙏🏼 it's rdr afterall.) period typical undertones of sexism. canon typical violence. mentions of animal abuse/neglect

〔☆〕 desc: during a little break at the saloon, you're interrupted by an O'Driscoll who presses a gun to your back and forces you out of the saloon for a kidnapping. the Van Der Linde group comes to your rescue.

.. ☆ next part | masterlist (tbe)

—✩ A WOLF’S BANE P. ⅰ ✩—

word count — 2.3k

a/n: hey! this is part one of my arthur morgan x fem!reader slowburn series. i know it starts off a little funky, but i promise you’re in for a treat!! feedback/ideas are greatly appreciated! 🤭🪭 this part is mostly focused on the reader developing relationships with the other members of the gang. (p.s i promise reader isn’t a mary sue 😭 this is just for build up!)

Your hands stay busy loading and spinning the barrel of your duel Widowmakers. They were beautifully customized, and you just purchased a brand new cylinder from the gunsmith. There were elk carvings on the wood handle—your holsters having the same stitching as they rest on your waist under your coat—and freshly polished metals.

You were quietly listening in on the discussions that swarmed at every angle in the Saloon. You’d traveled from Strawberry to Valentine to receive your prescription from Doctor Calloway.

Smithfield has tried a fair amount to ask you out for a dinner, or a horseback ride to Saint Denis, and as much as you loved horseback riding, you declined kindly.

He mailed you a letter asking that you come to his office to obtain it. You caught a stagecoach and paid five dollars for the ride, then took yourself to the saloon first for a quick lamb heart stew, which was something you always made sure to grab upon visiting Valentine, making you a familiar customer with the owner, Mr. Smithfield.

As you stood and adjusted your skirt while stuffing your revolver into its holster that stayed hidden under your coat, a barrel of a gun pressed against your back. Your eyes shot open and you refused to turn your head to see who your threat was.

The man stunk of alcohol, cigarettes, and pure grime, and the scent only grew stronger as you felt his face press against your hair to whisper in your ear.

“Act natural, pretty thing.”

His body closed in against your back with his hip bones digging into your waist. He wasn’t very tall, nor muscular, perhaps about five foot six.

“Do you always greet a pretty woman like this?” You hiss quietly as he twists the gun into your back, guiding you out. He makes sure to snatche your purse from off the table you were seated at—which you didn’t mind too much since you were struggling financially with only about thirty dollars to your name—you didn’t even get to pay your tab off. You hoped Smithfield would understand.

“Shut up and move, girl.” He rejoined.

Undoubtedly, your heart raced in your chest as you both stepped out of the Saloon. There’s another stagecoach with a few other men seated, causing your eyes to widen. This is a kidnapping, not a robbery, you thought, and that was when sweat began to head down from your scalp.

“She’s a good one, Welts!” one snorted. He had crooked and several missing teeth, a lazy eye, and his brown hair was greasy, and he just looked downright disgusting.

“O’Driscoll will be real happy!”

That was when you froze in your place as you were turned around and patted down for any extra goods; the male in front of you had managed to find a pearl necklace from the depths of your dress pocket, and you scrambled to try and grab it from him.

“Please, don’t take that, take anything else.” You were surprised to find yourself pleading to this man. To an O’Driscoll.

Welt’s head tilted and he let out a loud laugh before he took his revolver, slamming the barrel and cylinder rough against your cheekbone, immediate pain and heat surged as it quickly began to swell, and your body twists, landing on the ground with your palms flat in the dirt below you.

You reach one of your hands—that had grains of tiny rocks stuck in your bleeding skin—up to touch your cheek, a quick feeling of regret causing you to yank your head away from the pain.

“You’re a scum!” you try to turn your head, yet he grabs a full fist of your hair and unsheathes his knife, cutting off a thick chunk of your locks. You gasped weakly.

The men above you bursted into laughter while instead tears stung your eyes. “Speak when spoken to, woman,” he grimaced. You feel for the hair he sliced, and your lip quivers. These were definitely Colm O’Driscoll’s men.

Welts gripped your upper arm, and pulled you onto your feet. Accidentally, you rip your dress from your feet getting caught in the fabric as you struggle to stand with the man swinging you around like a lasso.

You feel his revolver get pinned into your back once again as he taps the barrel against you, gesturing you to walk towards the coach. You hesitated, which he didn’t take kindly. You heard the hammer click, and that’s when you caught yourself walking.

“Hello, gentlemen!” an exuberant voice joins in, and you turn your head to look at the man. He was neatly shaven, besides just a bit of clean stubble along his chin. His hair seemed slicked back at the top, even with a black hat, and he was in a long-sleeved white and blue striped shirt, a black vest, and black slacks.

His boots were black with brown spurs. He had his hand on his belt, though not over his holsters that you think were home to dual revolvers. You were just about tired of seeing men with guns.

Guns. You thought. I’m as dumb as a rat—you shimmy your arm down to press against your waist, feeling for your Widowmakers. You felt the hardness with your wrist, playing it calm, and cool. Welts was just as dumb, if not more—he hasn’t even realized you were armed, not that you knew how to use them, anyway. Your hand drags away. Most likely, you wouldn’t be able to beat the man in a sharpshoot.

“Now, a little birdy told me you were being not so nice to this innocent woman, is that true?” The black-haired male, being passive aggressive, sends you kind eyes that leave you feeling skeptical.

You notice his friends.

One was in a low ponytail, and had a sombrero on his head, and the other had olive skin and a hat with a small feather in it’s band.

“She’s my wife, she’s drunk, and these men have offered to take us home. Go along with your business.” Welts snarled as he pushed your shins into the step of the stagecoach. Never in a million years would you even think to date or marry an O’Driscoll—especially not him.

His hair was greasy, and there was collected dirt behind his ears. With his gapped teeth, and his uncared for eyebrows. You wanted to murder the ratbag for laying his dirty fingers on you.

“You tellin’ me the little birdy is a liar?” the man asks, his tone lowering.

“Hell is your problem?” Welts’ eyebrows furrowed.

His gun against your back was starting to feel like it was forming a circular mark on your back from the muzzle.

“I surely don’t remember a time where I saw a loyal man pinning a gun to his wife’s back,” another one of the man’s friends appeared. He had darker skin, Native American features, and a braid running down his own back.

His arms were folded against his chest that was covered in a brown long-sleeved tunic.

“Do you know this man, miss?” His eyes drag to yours with a softer expression creasing his features.

Once you open your mouth to speak, you’re silenced with a quick shoulder shove forcing you into the coach.

“She does, now leave us be.” He sat himself down next to you. Your head turns to look at them as your face twists into fear.

There were five men; the black-haired one, the one with the braid, the male with the ponytail, the scarred Scottish man, and another male who was a bit taller and quieter. His hair was more brown, his face was scruffy, and he wore a black gamblers hat.

“Come on now, hold your horses, compadre!” The one with the ponytail waved his hand in the air, though the man standing in the front seat of the stagecoach flicked the reins against the hinds of both of the gray and black horses, causing them to squeal and chase out of Valentine.

Panic surged through you, raising your adrenaline. When you try to crane your head to see if the men decided to leave, your chest is pushed back against the seat by one of Welts’ companions. Suddenly, the one who’d exchanged you the soft look—which you now have come to believe was the leader—yelled out, and all the men followed his command. “Saddle up, boys, we got ourselves a couple’a maggots!”

You heard two, or three, or four, of them whistle a call to their horses and moments later, they were chasing down the stagecoach. You felt a tinge of hope, and trusted that these men would save you.

“Can these sons’a bitches go any faster?!” Welts hands gripped the seat the driver sat on with his head turned over his shoulder.

When the shooting began, you quickly ducked and let out a distressed noise. Bullets flew all around you, and you covered your ears. You looked up, and immediately the driver had a bullet pierce his skull. You screamed, some of the red paste splattering onto your face. The driver fell off the front of the coach, and you gasped as the wheels ran over the body, the lump making you wobble. You lift yourself up, and take a hold of the seats to stabilize yourself.

The horses stressed, unsure what to do, and you looked around frantically. Another one of the men attempted to cross over and take hold of the reins, but he received the same fate, instead his body leaned over yours, and you pushed it off the edge before it toppled on you.

“Girl!” One of the men yelled, catching your attention. “Do ya know how to drive that thing?!” His accent was thick, and his voice was deep with a slight rasp. You’d gotten a more clear look at his face now that it wasn’t half-covered with his hat. “I said, do ya know how to drive it?!” His horse sped up along the side of the coach, and you frantically nodded your head. You used to be a Stagecoach Taxi at fourteen. You just hoped you still had it in you.

You tore the fabric of the hem of your dress some more until the fabric stopped just above your knees, then hopped over before you’re pulled back by the neck; a man’s arm choking you and smashing both sides of your head as he squeezed his arm making you fall back onto the floor. “Stupid bitch,” the man huffed and grunted, shooting off a few rounds.

“Arthur, Arthur, no!” the leader yelled from behind. “You’ll risk shootin’ her! Put that gun down!”

He was right; the coach was teetering from side to side, and would be sure to tumble off the edge of a cliff if it were to get close enough.

They’d be sure to go off-road with the horses only knowing to go in one direction at the speed they were currently.

These horses were abused, whip welts covering both their hinds and backs, it was disgusting.

You sputtered out a few coughs as the man cut off your entire circulation, your fingers to pry at his arms and your nails scratch at his skin.

He drops you and you slump onto the floor. You hit your head on some metal, yet quickly recover. While the man is distracted, you throw your head at his pants and bite on his groin through the slacks, immediately, he lets out a yowl and accidentally pulls the trigger of his Litchfield Rifle as he falls off the carriage, which ricochets off a steel base, and strikes your shoulder.

A cry leaves your throat and you slap your hand over the wound. Blood seeps through the cloth of your ruffled top, but you swing yourself back over and take hold of the reins.

You feel your head pounding, but you pull back the reins and attempt to slow the horses down, though they don’t abide. The horses are panicked, unsure how to react.

“Don’t stop the coach!” the man with the feather in his hat, shooting over his shoulder.

”Well, what the hell do I do then?!” Your eyebrows furrow. “There’s more! They just keep comin’!” you turn your head at his words, and your eyes widen to see more O’Driscoll men trailing behind on coaches and horses.

“Jump on my horse!” The man with the striped shirt yells in your direction, and you look at him as if he’s crazy. “I’ll grab you, don’t worry about falling, but hurry it up!” His voice booms, going rasp.

“Now! Now!” He pulls back the reins of his horse, causing it to halt, and with a running start, you jump off the coach and onto his horse, his arm pulling you up as you almost fall off the horse’s hind to sit upright.

The horses to the coach attempt to stop at the edge of the cliff they ran too, though the coach pushes them over. You gasp, and turn your head as your hands grip the man’s jacket that was in front of you.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, sweetheart,” he clears his throat, and turns his horse around. His friends caught up, and their horses skidded to a stop.

“Dutch! What the hell was that for?” The male, who had directed you to not stop the stagecoach, his face was twisted with fury.

“Do you trust me, or not, son?” The man, who now is identified as Dutch, questions him, then elbows you lightly. “John Marston, he’s the hothead if you couldn’t tell, ain’t that right, boys?” He let out a humorous laugh. “Damn straight.” The one with the sombrero howls.

You had to keep yourself from passing out, which failed miserably. “You alright back there, miss?” He nudged your body again. Your eyes began to shut on you, and you slumped against the man’s back, then began to slide off the horse and onto the ground.

“Shit, shit!” Dutch took quick notice of your wounds. “Ain’t any of you tell me she was shot!” He wheezed, rushing off his horse. Everything faded to black.

[ohtobemare]

Congrats on 100 followers !!! So excited for you!

Could I get “I think I might be in some kind of love with you.” with Tom? We all know I’m an Ice gal

💜💜💜

Who doesn't love Ice? Here's your fluffy Kazanksy, he's just too much fun to write. Enjoy and thanks so much for your follow and your ask, babe!

Wingman

“Bradley! Bradley, come on—you like peanut butter and jelly, remember?” 

The edge of the divided alphabet plate is mere inches from nose diving off the table, threatening a mess of sticky Peter Pan and strawberry jelly on what appears to be bright-and-shiny, freshly waxed linoleum.

Locked in a staring contest with the curlicue of a five-year-old your best friend Nick Bradshaw has entrusted you with, your heart is hammering harder than you ever remember in your short lifespan. 

Feet frozen in place, your hand is extended as if somehow you’ve managed to become some kind of Jedi. Attempting to force-control Bradley Bradshaw into cooperation failed, the burp of skin on plastic is nearly deafening as his fat little finger skips across the table, flicking at the separated plate you’d set in front of him moments ago. 

“B!” The high pitch of your voice matches the heart jumping behind your ribs–never in your adult life would you have dreamed to ever be so worried about a sandwich, “please—eat your lunch, ok? Your daddy says you like PB and J,” 

Time seems to stand still. Exhausted, blood pumping hard through your ears, you feel like you’ve wrestled a bull the entire afternoon. Or maybe a Tasmanian devil. Bradley has been nothing but a high-strung ball of energy since you sent Nick and Carole off for their afternoon, insisting that things would be fine. 

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve heeded Carole’s warning of letting Bradley play outside a few hours before lunch. “He gets so cooped up and off the rails if you take him out and let him burn through some of that after-nap energy,” the gall of the woman to actually laugh, “He’s super into Indiana Jones, and you’ll be a great sub in my absence as the damsel in distress.”

But Bradley hadn’t wanted to play outside today. He’d wanted to play dinosaurs in his room with his little green army men, and together you’d both had a blast decimating Sarge and his unit with Tom the T-Rex. Blithely unaware of the gorgeous day outside and its 90 degree sunshine, A/C had been an appreciated alternative. At the time. 

 But now? You were going to either kill Nick’s kid, or die of exhaustion—whichever came first. 

Bradley had started acting up about an hour ago, when he refused to clean up the toys in his room. An all-out hissy fit had transpired as Tom the T-Rex had been violently thrown out the bedroom door, hitting the wall with a thunk. 

Feeling sorry for Tom, and staring with popped brows of surprise as Bradley screamed in his bedroom, very quickly your ovaries had shrank into near non-existence at the idea of someday willing choosing this for yourself. 

“Pizza!” He shrieks, arms flapping in tantrum like some kind of pterodactyl, which ironically matches the dinosaur on the t-shirt underneath his overalls, “I want pizza!” His little high-pitched boy voice is ringing off the walls of the military housing unit as his bottom lip begins to quiver. 

Crocodile tears well up in his soft brown eyes, angry color flaring on his chubby cheeks as he gives the plate one final shove, glaring at it like it has committed a grave offense. 

Flinching as the plastic rattles to the linoleum, you puff out a dramatic sigh and scrub your face with your be-jeweled fingers, the cool rings doing little to tame the heat fanning across the bridge of your nose. Your heart has stopped throbbing in worry over the thoroughly dead sandwich, pulse returning to some kind of normal between your ears. 

Gnawing at your bottom lip in defeat, you eyeball the splattered peanut butter and jelly and brea. It’s flattened and thoroughly stuck to the floor as Bradley leans over the side of his booster to look at his handiwork. Blinking at it, he looks back to you without even missing a beat, before grabbing the Flintstone cup of milk and taking a long swig. 

“Pizza,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes, crossing to the head of the table. “You win, kiddo. Pizza it is.” You’ve never felt more defeat in your life, which is really saying something, because the taste of second place is something you’re all too familiar with being friends with Nick Bradshaw and his motley crew of stick jockey aviators. 

Grabbing your purse, you retrieve your wallet and march to the phone mounted on the wall. Spinning the numbers, you order a pizza for yourself and the Bradshaw demon now absolutely adorably singing a song he must’ve picked up from his father, and hung up after the deadbeat clerk monotoned a goodbye. 

Plunking down in a chair, your elbows hit the table and cradle your head as you sigh out a breath from the base of your gut. A headache is starting to bloom behind your eyes, and sweat is beading down the length of your spine, drawing your t-shirt and jeans to your skin in the most unpleasant way possible.

Toes curling against the linoleum in an effort to release tension, Bradley begins singing his ABCs in the cutest way possible. 

You jump when the phone releases a shrill shriek across the kitchen. For a minute your mind jogs, trying to remember if Carole had asked you to take any calls.

Nick had told you to go ahead and use the phone for anything you may need—slipping out of the chair, you slide across the floor in your socks and pluck it off the receiver, cradling it between your clavicle and ear. 

“Bradshaw house,” you sing into the line. Bradley is pushing himself out from the table, scrambling out of the booster to race up the stairs, shrieking for his stuffed animal dog that you have since learned is named Bongo. Covering the receiver, you call for Bradley to please come back downstairs before returning to the call, “How can I help?” 

“Sounds like you’re having fun, sweetheart.” 

Heart slamming to an all-stop in your chest, you inhale a sharp breath. A surprised squeaks managed past your strangled vocal chords, and heat jumping into your blood is immediate.

Replaying his words through your mind, you imagine him leaning through the doorway of the barracks, phone in hand, dragging the cord along as he talks to you. 

Tom Kazanksy has always been a pacer when it comes to talking on the phone. It’s something you learned from Nick himself, who has told you numerous times that Iceman can’t keep it together when he’s on a call. Especially with you.

Goose was practically ass-over-tea kettle about this, Ice glaring at him behind his aviators as you’d given him a goofy grin, picturing the idea as nothing short of hilarious. 

The man as cold as ice, tethered by a phone cord every time he picked up the receiver. It was laughable. Actually hilarious. Ice was many things—poised, cool, calculative in ways that were nearly frightening. He seemed far too collected to be the kind that walks when he’s on the phone—that’s your thing.

Fidgeting is a quirk of yours that simultaneously amuses and drives Ice up the wall, which seems counterproductive. 

But like many things about Iceman Kazansky, there’s a lot that doesn’t make sense. 

Keeping you on your toes is just one of the many things that makes your relationship with Kazansky interesting. He’s the ying to your yang, the cool to your hot. You’re wound tighter than a frickin’ Rolex, and Tom is as smooth as butter in every way that counts.

He’s excelling in his career, making the right decisions, drawing the right attention—and you’re stalled out working at the local garage, tinkering on whatever junk manages to hit the pavement. 

Quiet and reserved, Ice is the epitome of charm and elegance. You’re basically the wild card in life’s chaotic game of Uno, forever handing your boyfriend a draw 25 of every crazy thing your life may hand him.

Honestly, how the two of you make it work is unbelievable—you’ve been dating for eight months. You were sure any day Ice would wake up from the hellish nightmare that is your crazy life and leave you, but he'd only seemed locked in for good. 

Fairly certain that meeting your parents in NOLA would be the straw that broke the camel’s back, you were dead surprised when Ice had told you he actually loved your family. Your father had done nothing but interrogate the man like a dog with a bone about his career, his plans—all the kills his fancy rank boasted.

And mama? Oh, boy. She’d fussed over him to no end, insisting his skinny ass needed plumped up before your return at Christmas. 

“What are they feeding him in California, sweetie? Look at that waist! I could snap him in two. Make sure you feed ‘im good—the way to a man’s heart is through his gut, after all.” 

Your mother didn’t understand that you didn’t live together, weren’t cooking for Ice, and could take no responsibility for his eating habits. She’d just pooh-pooh’d your entire protest away, promising to send you both home with grocery money and a few recipes for your box.

You’d stuck them to the fridge with a magnet, Ice just chuckling at your mumble that your parents were the most embarrassing life-givers on the entire planet. 

Arms snaked around your wrist, chin on your shoulder, he’d rocked you back and forth on his feet while smiling at the recipes now stuck on the front of your Frigidaire.

“I like your parents, my love. They’re….sweet?” The word was so foreign from him, it had made you snort. 

“Overbearing and nosy, but thanks for playing,” you’d shook your head and lazily hung your hands from his thick forearms crossing over your chest, “I can’t wait to meet your folks, Ice. Your mom seems so amazing.” 

“You’re talking to my mom?” 

Laughing, “Of course I am! You gave me their number, silly.” 

“I gave you my parents’ number for when I’m there, princess. I didn’t expect you to cultivate a relationship with Admiral Kazanksy’s wife.” Pressing a heavy kiss to your jaw, the blonde stubble on his cheek was divine as it brushed against the apple of yours. 

Giggling in his embrace, your nose scrunches up as you let your head fall back against his shoulder. “Careful there, Tommy. Mrs. Admiral Kazansky kinda has a nice ring to it.” 

His eyes had never sparkled so richly as they had that day in your kitchen, catching the insinuation you’d thrown in your little universe. Ice is everything you are not in the way that he is as unreadable as a blank page, whereas you’re easy reading, like phonebook. It goes with his graceful stoicism, his quiet demeanor. 

Which is maybe why the two of you work. He balances you out, reigns you in when necessary but loves your unbridled fire. You add color to the otherwise black-and-white pages of Tom Kazanksy’s mission dossier of life, and while you haven’t exactly figured out if that’s a plus or not—Goose, Mav, Slider and everyone else that knows him assures you that you’re the best thing that’s ever stumbled, literally, into Kazanksy’s universe. 

You smile at the muffle of voices hanging at the back of the call. Tom is obviously not alone, which amuses you to no end.

“Oh yeah, y’know how it goes, Kazansky—couldn’t be better. Goose’s kid is just the best child a babysitter could ever ask for.” The drama is not lost in your voice. 

Tom barks out a laugh, and you imagine he’s shaking his head at you. “I can imagine. Bradley is a little shit when he wants to be.” He says something to someone beyond the call before returning to the phone, “So, about tomorrow. I wanted to ask you—”

Curling the phone cord around your index finger, you check over your shoulder as a shriek erupts from the hallway. Whipping about, Bradley shoots down the stairs, suddenly naked from the waist down and missing the overalls his mother had dressed him in that morning.

Eyes popping wide, he is screaming with a Superman action figure and his father’s dog tags hanging from his neck, face twisted in a horror that you’ve only ever seen portrayed on television. 

Somehow, Bradley’s hair and shirt is wet. Which can only mean—

“Oh my gosh! Bradley! Bradley, come back—” dropping the phone and lunging for the toddler, you half remember your boyfriend is on the other end of the call, and right as Bradley races into the kitchen you grab the receiver. Scrambling to right the phone back to your ear, “Ice, I really have–” but he’s laughing. At you.

“This isn’t funny, Tom!” 

“It’s fucking hilarious, baby,” his voice is that smooth rasp that makes you shiver as he clucks a chuckle into the phone, “but hold tight. I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes,” he’s calling for someone to tell him the time before he returns. “Think you can keep the gosling alive long enough for me to get there?” 

Your eyes are shooting daggers at the wall as you sneer at nothing. “I hate you sometimes,” 

Hissing out a noise that sounds like it would be paired with a wince, his mocking, “Ouch, princess,” doesn’t match the lilt in the back of his words. “Don’t burn down the house, I’ll be right there. Hang tight, grease monkey.” He’s been calling you grease monkey since knowing you, and it’s become more of a pet name than anything. 

Unraveling, grateful help is imminent, you’re too stubborn to tell him that. Ice is good at everything, and something about watching Goose’s offspring niggles the thought that you want to be better at this than him in the back of your head. Biting the inside of your cheek, you hum suspiciously over the phone. 

 “Just get over here, Kazansky.” Dropping the phone to the receiver, you turn to rush into the living space in search of Bradley. 

You swear to God you can hear him laughing behind the door fifteen minutes later when he knocks, letting himself into the kitchen from the screen door.

Sunglasses on, dressed informally in a t-shirt and tight Wranglers, he’s got a baseball glove under his arm that he drops to the table when Bradley races to the front door, arms splayed wide upon sight. 

“Iceman!” Bradley launches himself at Ice’s legs, wrapping chunky little arms around the man’s thighs, “I didn’t know you were coming!”

He’s bouncing as Ice bends to lift him under his arms to his hip, messing the kid’s hair with his fingers.

“You gonna play ball with me, Ice?” 

Ice’s smile is genuine as the kid pops off his callsign, no sweat. “You know it, kiddo. Gotta get my favorite shortstop ready for the Phillies, right?”

Bradley’s face couldn’t be any brighter as you lean against the threshold of the living room, arms crossed over your chest as you watch Ice interact with Goose’s son.

“How have you been, Bradley?” 

“Gooooood,” the boy giggles and draws out the double-o of the word like children do, breaking off into another giggle as Ice wiggles his fingers into his soft stomach, “can we go play?” 

“Yeah, bud. Go grab your mit and we’ll toss a few,” setting Bradley to his feet, he sends the boy off with a light swat to his rear, Bradley beelining past you to whip up the stairs. He's chanting Ice’s name with childlike joy nearly bubbling out of him. 

Ice considers the state of the sandwich you still haven’t cleaned up off the floor before looking to you with a raised brow. The corner of his mouth ticks up into a light smirk as he slips the aviators off, hanging them from the collar of his t-shirt as his eyes move about the living space, easily.

You can see he’s calculating, and something shoots down your spine to ricochet off your uterus. 

Good god he’s handsome. Sexy as all get out with close-cropped blonde hair, eyes bright enough to melt steel. He can level you with nothing but a smile, make you forget your name the way he kisses you. You might as well be dead when he says your name.

Thinking through all the times he's called you his, wondering if you’ll ever get tired of it, heat in your blood blossoms to your face. You suddenly warmer than you thought possible in the A/C of Goose’s house. 

Crossing the kitchen in a few long strides, he reaches for you. Hand sliding home at your hip as you smile at him, he bridges the daylight hanging between you and shuffles your hips flush with his. Smiling at you crookedly, his eyes track yours. Reaching for a curl that’s fallen from your clip, he tucks it behind your ear. 

“Help has arrived, princess,” he teases you, low. “Holding up okay?” His voice is quiet, smoky. Dangerous.

Every one of his words hits you right in that little spot between your legs, which has not stopped aching since you laid eyes on this man eight months ago. 

“Thanks for coming over,” you coo, lips parting into a little smile. “I’m alright, just tired. Should’ve known I’d need my wingman–you should’ve been here for lunch,” nodding past his shoulder to the mess still living beside Bradley’s booster, your bottom lip rolls inward sheepishly. “Peter Pan and Smuckers crashed and burned.” Your nose scrunches up, teasingly. “I needed reinforcements.” 

He snorts a little, brow lifted knowingly. “So I gathered.” 

“You’re such a jerk,” you try not to chuckle, but that look he’s giving you makes it impossible. 

He shrugs, flippantly. “Yeah, but you like that kind of thing,“ fingers skipping down the full curve of your cheek, they anchor at your chin and tip you head back just so. “I’m here now, love.” 

Somehow your eyes just know to drop to half mast as your heart kicks up a few beats against your ribs. His head angles in that kissable way, and before you can even remember to breathe, his mouth brushes against yours tentatively, seeking out a kiss. Grabbing the front of his shirt, fingers fisting into the material, you edge him a little closer until he seals the deal, kissing you long and hard and slow. 

His other thick hand is moving to rest at the curve of your neck and shoulder, thumb delicately brushing against the column of your throat as he moans a little into your mouth. Gasping a little, you suck at his bottom lip, tongue carefully slipping between his teeth to lathe a little against his own. Suddenly the room is spinning as he’s bracing an arm against the threshold of the kitchen, backing you against the sheetrock as his hand moves to cup the curve of your cheek. 

“Ice,” you whine between his mouth moving against yours. Every nerve is on fire, and you can suddenly taste and feel nothing but his heat as it crashes against your chest. “I—” 

“Mmm,” his fingers curl into the flesh of your hip, harder if possible, and he presses his weight forward with his hips, against yours, pinning you against the sheetrock even farther. “It’s okay,” he enunciates with rough exhale, “Bradley is fine—” 

Knees basically gelatin and as if on cue,  you hear Bradley’s little feet upstairs. He’s talking to Tom the T-rex, looking for his glove before he cries for you to come upstairs. It’s painful, brushing Tom’s hand away from where it’s tracing the soft skin beneath your navel under your shirt, but you have to. 

Groaning in irritation before breaking your kiss with Tom, your gaze moves to the ceiling. Tom’s eyes do as well, and he sighs a little in defeat before putting his hands up, stepping back to allow you to slide away, towards the stairs. 

“I’m coming, Bradley,” you call up the stairs, your voice not nearly as strong as you’d like it to be. “I’m sorry, baby, I—” His smile is slow as he nods in understanding, and he smooths his hand over his mouth, you not missing the flush on his face. 

You rake your hair back as you’re about to take the stairs two at a time, but you stop when Ice’s big hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. Looking to his hand briefly, your eyes track up to find him, your face painted with the silent question of “What’s wrong?” that you don’t even need to ask.

“You know I love you, right?” 

Heart skyrocketing into the back of your throat before it melts back between your ribs, the corner of your mouth lifts in a soft smile as you shrug a shoulder. Winking at him, you step forward onto the stairs, hand falling from his grasp as Ice moves to track you up the stairs. Over your shoulder, you smile at him and nod—you absolutely know you’re in love with Tom Kazanksy, it isn’t even a question. 

“And I think I might be in some kind of love with you too, Kazansky. Maybe just a little.” Your fingers pinch to indicate a little amount,  nose scrunched up in that way you always do that makes him roll his eyes and shake his head. You round the corner of the open staircase, but backtrack a few steps to peek around the corner. 

“But in case you forget, Iceman—I love you too.” 

[heartfullofleeches]

Hey chief, do you mind if I play some Pokemon here? Been here for a while and already collected some pearls, let me see..

*Pulls their bag and open it, taking out some Pokeballs*

Here we have... Titus, Dylan, Theodore, Erin, Spencer, Ben, Evan, Sammy, V, Host, Janitor, Ball Pit God, Bathroom Succubus, The Storyteller, The Manager, Amyas, Cholly, Tobi, Alasdair, Baron, Maddox, C.C., Orion, Jaremiah (btw, wtfrick happen to that dude? Did he melt on the microwave or smt?), Reese, Lambchop, Liu, Alien, Selene (honest, miss the sweet lady), Daina, Pin (another one that I miss, what happen to little dude? :( ), Static (do you remember them? It's been a while like, previous year halloween or smt?), Damsel, Elliot (I feel so old for still remembering him off-)...

Pretty sure I forgot some fellas, would you mind helping me find the others? I need to complete my Mr. Devil Collection. :b

Casper, Gemi/Gemini (miss these two fr, Ceres, Baron's sleeper paralysis big sister who's name I forget, Mal, Devlin, Silas, Gus, Ventri, Melan, The Director, Anri, Julian, The Scavenger, Rosebud, The Painter, the clock one, The lady in White, The Faceless Angel, Ruthie, Farmer Crow, Blythe, Mimi, D.Kay, Cherry, Clementine, Lemon, Lime, Melon, Eve/Everett, Vendetta, Dea, Thane, Mono, Exael, Titus, Sucrose, Mocha, Jolie, Izzy and Cinnabar, Gumi, Lollie, Zachary, Hayes, "Lucille" (Liu's parasite half. Also Liu used to be Lee), Morgan, Seth, that one cowboy guy, that one bullman guy, horny ghost lady, Chocolate Milk, Strawberry Milk, Eggnog, Screamsicle, Oat Milk, Apricot Milk, Peach Milk, Cotton-Candy Milk, Mint Milk, Apple Milk, Milk Tea, Spice Milk, Milk/Milk Maid, Cherry Milk, Bear, Bo, Spot, Saber, Belle, Doc, Trick, Prince, Wisteria

The list goes on but that's what I got for now. Fuck I miss the night gallery so fucking much. Jeremiah is dead. I haven't mention my poor baby Static since the beginning of the year. Pin has a draft I need to finish eventually

[salty-an-disco]

Hey, random ask.

What StP proppganda do you try to preach, specifically about the Vessels. Like how Coldchary wants Adversary associated with strawberries, and I wakt to make Thorn a Spaniard.

Strawberry blond Damsel

Freckled Witch and Thorn (and also, Witch being an actual cat who can cast spells; if she’s not gonna evolve into Thorn, might as well evolve into Magic Kitty)

Agender Razor

Horsegirl Adversary

and sys4sys Quiet/Stranger (tho that one’s true to any variant of a Quiet/Princess ship, but I specifically wanna preach for Stranger love)

[artsybug0]

What are some facts about Millie? (Can also be for any AU!)

❤️Fun Facts About Millie!❤️

Original:

She’s afraid of the dark so she uses a nigh-light when she sleeps

She likes foods with strawberries in them more then just eating strawberries

Her entire home is lovecore decorated

She has three adopted parents who are in a poly relationship

She has seven adopted brothers

She’s the oldest sibling but third to be adopted

Millie can do many tricks on her roller skates. She even puts on a show for her neighbors with Barnaby

She caught feelings for Wally first

She compliments people a lot about how they look like characters from books she’s read

She gushes often about romance stories

You can often find her sitting on Howdys counter reading out loud to him as he works

She stims a lot (she’s just a happy gal!)

She word stims Wally’s name often

She’s afraid of fire (like big fires)

Actor:

She moved to the big city to go to a good college to become an author.

She graduated with a BA (Bachelors of Arts)

She’s worked a lot of jobs and has been almost all over Hollywood for work, but as you can imagine for a puppet. That didn’t get her anywhere

She gained her kinda violent tendencies while living alone in Hollywood (learned behavior for her own survival)

She became extremely depressed and had thoughts (and one attempt) at 💀 herself

She was literally dragged into the studio to be a replacement Actor for Welcome Home Puppet Show by Janet

She knew how to act because at that time she’s been pretending to be a “damsel in distress” to manipulate men into using their money on her so she can have a comfortable life for years.

She’s a big fan of Eddie’s

Millie only worked so hard to be Wally’s friend so she can hopefully get him to meet up with her youngest brothers who she used to watch WH with all the time

Millie originally planned to use Wally’s feelings to manipulate him into giving her everything she wants, but she caught the feelings before she could do anything (Wally was rude and cold towards her at the beginning so she saw this as revenge)

She at first declined Wally’s gifts for her because she was nervous she was accidentally manipulating him to think that’s what he wants to do (she wasn’t, he just loves spoiling her)

She has a list of “reasons why I love Wally” on her phone that she occasionally adds to

Egg was a gift from Wally, he’s their baby

Millie was engaged to a human once

Gothic/Punk

Doesn’t have a friend group

She roller derby’s

Everytime you see her she has a new bruise or scratch

She often gets into fights

She thrives in annoying people

Refuses to acknowledge that she has valid feelings

Her wings flap when she’s angy

She didn’t get as much as a height boost as the rest so she’s pretty small compared to everyone 😂

She teases a lot

She hates being teased though

She’s used to being described as hot or sexy but as soon as someone calls her cute she’s embarrassed and red faced

She’s actually pretty lonely, and despite how she acts, she really does care about what people say or do to her.

She’s very attached to her partners Susanna( @yami-xd character) and Wally. But mostly Susanna because she doesn’t call her mean names and is pretty nice to her

Is the most likely Millie to have 🔞 with you (if you’re around her age, 23-27)(she’s a ho)

Rainbow Factory

She’s by far, the loneliest Millie

Her parents death were later in life so she would of been at least 13 when it happened

She was never adopted

Her scars were caused by a chemical explosion she was too close to

Only Wally visited her in the hospital (that’s how she developed strong feelings for him)

She soon changed job titles and became his assistant

Even though she’s his assistant she does a LOT more then what is required of her. But she doesn’t mind.

She mixes coffee and energy drinks in a cup and chugs it down at once before working

She had extremely jealously over those who have things she doesn’t (friends, family, beauty)

She really despises Julie in this Au but doesn’t do anything about it. She only hates her because she’s Wally’s ex

She has a soft spot of kids, they remind her of herself before everything happened so she wants to protect them

She’s made fun of for her scars so often she doesn’t believe anyone if they compliment her for being “pretty”

She keeps trying to ask Wally out but backs out last second

She passes out often from overworking herself and starving her body

All the other Au’s I don’t have much put together to make fun facts about them yet so this is all I can give for now!

❤️

[stargirl-int3rlud3]

𝐋𝐮𝐯'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!!

synopsis; all of my works from all of my different fandom, all in one place. how convenient! — ♡ ᵎᵎ

꒰💌꒱ = fluff ꒰🌧꒱ = angst ꒰🧨꒱ = badass

⊹ . ° ↳ the summer i turned pretty

steven conklin!!

-the country club ꒰💌꒱

-sea shells ꒰💌꒱

⊹ . ° ↳ one piece live action

monkey d luffy!!

-damsel in distress ꒰💌꒱ ꒰🧨꒱

-orange slices ꒰💌꒱

straw hat crew!!

-pretty in pink ꒰💌꒱

-the wonders of water ꒰💌꒱ ꒰🧨꒱

⊹ . ° ↳ jujutsu kaisen

megumi fushiguro!!

-sweet embrace ꒰💌꒱

satoru gojo!!

-happy halloween ꒰💌꒱

yuji itadori!!

-strawberry stains ꒰💌꒱

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

Freeze

written for @hinnymicrofic Day 2 | 320 words. Muggle AU

The door jingled, alerting all 2 people in the frozen yogurt shop that they had another customer.

It was probably the seventh or eighth time Ginny had been in said shop this past week alone. Sure she liked fro-yo, but not enough to eat it for a straight week. Instead she kept coming back because of one person.

There behind the counter stood a very attractive boy with messy, black hair and bright, green eyes accented by his teal t-shirt that was a uniform for the shop. His handwritten name badge displayed the name Harry.

He was the reason she has a sudden craving for frozen yogurt.

She grabbed a cup and self-served herself a healthy portion of the strawberry flavor and added in a select few toppings.

"Can't stay away from me, can you Ginny?" he teased as she put her cup on the scale.

"Something like that, Harry," Ginny said, paying for her dessert. She took a spoon from the counter and immediately took a bite.

"You know, you don't have to keep getting shitty yogurt to come see me."

Ginny choked, wincing as the cold yogurt hit the back of her throat and chilled her entire head.

"Sorry, brain freeze," Ginny mustered out.

Harry leaned across the counter, "You know if you stick your thumb on the top of the roof of your mouth, it should do the trick," he said, demonstrating as he spoke.

Ginny stuck her thumb in her mouth to relieve the pain. "You're a lifesaver, Harry."

He grinned, "Always happy to save a damsel in distress."

"So Harry," Ginny said, rolling her eyes at his comment, "Would you be willing to betray your loyalties to frozen yogurt to get real ice cream with me later this week?"

"I get off in 20 minutes, you can throw out that fake stuff, and I will happily buy you the real deal then."

"It's a date."

[medusapelagia]

Running From The Daylight - Part 5

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, (coming soon Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15)

Written for @whumpuary

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Prompt: Can't move WT: vague mention of suicidal thoughts Words: 927

The blankets and the fire keep the temperature bearable, but lying on the floor is not helping at all: every bone in Eddie's body aches, but he endures it without complaining because he wants to stay glued at Steve's side, no matter what, he is ready to let himself die of consumption like a faithful dog, even if he really hopes they will not come to that. They have already eaten most of the food they had and even if they have a few cans of beans, the majority of the food that remains needs cooking.

"Do you think I could cook something on the fire? Like we were camping?" he asks Steve, mesmerized by the beautiful shadows that the fire paints on his lover's skin.

"It's not a bad idea, you should try to not to burn everything."

"What would you like? You can order whatever you want and I'll be your personal chef."

"I'm pretty sure we have just some canned beans, but if I could choose right now I would kill for a red velvet."

"A cake? Mr. We have to eat organic food would kill for a sugary cake full of colorants?"

Steve snorts "Yeah, I would. What about you? I know you hate that I make you eat healthy food."

"I don't hate it. I mean, am I crazy about quinoa? Nope! But I don't hate it. If I could eat anything right now I would like to eat a hamburger. You know what? I would love to take you to Benny and recreate our first date, do you remember?" He asks him, looking at him with fondness while remembering their first date: Steve was just a freshman, scared of his own shadow, and Eddie had invited him to eat burgers after school, making fun of the school teachers. Steve ordered a milkshake, Eddie no, money was always tight and he had to choose wisely, but Steve insisted, asking for another straw and offering his strawberry milkshake to Eddie, and they drank it together, from the two straws, like the teenagers couples in the movie, and when Steve had gathered all his courage and kissed Eddie in his van, before running back home, his lips tasted like strawberry.

Steve scoffs "It wasn't a first date! You didn't even ask me out properly! You just dragged me to your car and drove to Benny's."

"We kissed, so it was a date." Eddie insists and Steve chuckles.

"We did, didn't we?"

Eddie brushes some hair away from Steve’s face, looking at him with worry, and finally whispers "How are you feeling? For real."

Steve’s hand finds Eddie’s, intertwining their fingers "I'm fine Eddie, I'm all cozy under the blankets and we are cuddling in front of the fireplace, what else should I ask for?"

"Not being trapped under an avalanche with a broken leg? Just a suggestion."

Steve sighs, taking Eddie's hand to his mouth and kissing it like he was a mid-century damsel, then he looks at him "You have to go outside and try to call for help."

"No, I'm not leaving you!"

"Eddie, I can't move, you are the only one who can get out and call for help." Steve insists.

Eddie shakes his head, avoiding Steve's stare "No, no, you told me that Robin is coming. And Wayne too and..."

"They don't even know if we are still alive or not. Someone has to tell them that we are still alive and that we need medical help."

And that someone can only be Eddie.

“I don’t want to. Please don’t make me! I don’t want to leave you here alone!” he murmurs, fighting the tears that are filling his eyes.

Steve caresses Eddie’s face while the dark-haired boy holds Steve’s hand in his, how can he leave Steve helpless and hurt in the chalet that may crumble at any moment?

“I’ll find another solution. I can send a message to Robin, I got a signal for a moment, she would have seen that I received her messages and she will know what to do.”

His boyfriend smiles at him but is a sad smile, full of regrets and sadness and Eddie doesn’t like it, it looks too close to a goodbye and he is not fucking going to say goodbye to him, ok? He is not ready! Death can’t come unannounced like that and take with her the most important thing in Eddie’s life. She just can’t, ok? She already took Eddie’s mum when he has so young he hardly remembers her, and there is no fucking way he is going to let her take Steve. No. No way. Help is coming, Eddie is fucking sure about that, they only have to wait for them!

“Eddie…” Steve calls him, but Eddie stubbornly refuses to look at him, he knows that he will try to convince him to go, giving him sensible reasons, really sensible indeed, but that Eddie doesn’t want to hear any of those.

“Water?”

“Yes please.”

Food and water are another problem that Eddie is not really willing to face. They had gone grocery shopping before getting to the chalet, but they didn’t stock for winter, they just assumed that they would have gone back to the village when needed, and now they are trapped there, in the middle of nowhere,  Eddie starts to be really fucking scared that none will come to get them, if helps doesn’t come soon he will have to get out to take some clean snow and melt it for drinking.

[cptspiegel]

Hiya,long time no see. Any scenario about kenny although no being a bad father to his kid but a very harsh teacher when about teaching his kid how to fight but after a long training finally she/he can land a (small) hit to his body and what do you think about his reaction be? Thanks

Ah!!!!!!!!!! This is so cute anon your mind is fantastic!! This is going to be filled with so many of my dad!Kenpachi HC's this is my fav topic ever 😭

Warnings: combat training, mentions of bruises & scabs, girl dad! Kenpachi

Some people thought Kenpachi was simply not fit to be a parent. Yachiru is naturally independent, she could care for herself without Kenpachi.

He didn't help his case with the way he and his daughter appeared in front of others.

She mimicked Ken's hairstyle, little puffs or tails sticking from all angles of her head. Her robe and pants were all black when they were bought, but now are a weird gray littered with holes. With a face like an angel she had the same insatiable desire to partake in violence.

People expected a little girl to be just that, but what they didn't see.

The gentle hand Kenpachi uses on the stratches of his daughters knees.

How often he makes her laugh with his funny faces telling fighting stories.

Yachiru being her big sister and Kenpachi hiding strawberry flavored throat medicine in his jacket.

So, when it was time for his daughter to learn to fight Kenpachi did it his way.

His way was....tough

It raised eyebrows. Even if they were aware of just how much Kenpachi loves his daughter, people were uncomfortable with how easy it was for him to ragdoll her around.

The main issue was that it wasn't easy. Kenpachi would rather do all the fighting and keep his girls safe. He'll make sure he lived hundreds of years to see that through.

But his daughter is too much like him to be a damsel in distress her whole life. Also she needs to have the skills to defend herself, the world can be unforgiving!

This particular day Kenpachi and his daughter were reay throwing hands with one another.

"Yes, that's good! You're less predictable now!" Kenpachi offered words of encouragement.

The preteen huffed and gave her dad a dead look. "Shut up, I still haven't landed a hit."

Kenpachi swept her legs from under her and as she fell he stated, "You also left yourself wide open.

After the dust settled Kenpachi's daughter remained on the ground. He took that as a sign to wrap things up and extended his hand to the young girl.

With a grunt, her balled fist made contact with Kenpachi's bandaged midsection.

The force was great. By standers of Squad 11 could see the wind behind the punch and the impact made a shockwave.

Kenpachi was still standing, no where near hurt, but he felt it. Her little knuckles really made it through to his senses.

Oh, Kenpachi was elated. He cheer, sweeping his daughter into his arms, and tossing her in the air as if she were a baby again.

"You little bugger, you're strong! Of course you are, you're mine!"