#bonnie has become not white

[cherryys]

holy fucking shit

[tobeholyistobeempty]

G’mornin, bonnie. | john soap mactavish

You wake up from a one night stand — ready to gather your shit and run just like you always do after a night of bad decisions — but turns out, Johnny has other plans for you.

cw: 18+ mdni. smut. slight dark themes ie. stalking. john price has a kid and is a great wingman apparently. reader afab. teacher!reader. morning after a hookup. domestically menacing johnny with a permanent shit-eating grin. first time attempting to write his accent so i’m sorry in advance. piv. voyuerism!kink. rip to johnny’s neighbours. creampie.

for the absolutely lovely @spurbleu. thank you for offering me this challenge. i hope i did him justice 🤍 i’m so sorry i’m so late ilysm

You wake to something warm.

It washes over you slowly — spring streams pouring into fragmented consciousness, urging you from the depths of slumber with a gentle lull. Coaxing. Warm like summer sun internalized, flowing through your hair — hazing the room in a golden film as your eyes peel open with rapid blinks, and confusion hastily nullifies it.

You shift, becoming aware of what your body is subconsciously telling you. Warmth. All of it adding to the growing discombobulation. The lingering heat between your thighs. The cocooning comfort of sheets that aren’t yours. The odd familiarity of a room that’s too bare to be recognized. The grace of a bed that’s glaringly empty save for dark sheets wrapped around bare, aching legs.

It takes you a minute, but your memory eventually resurfaces — gasping for air at the smell of coffee and the hum of movement from the other room.

Johnny.

Hard to forget that name after you’d spent the night screaming it. Your body knows before your mind does, muscles humming with the memory of hands that held too tight, a mouth that took its time. You inhale. Coffee again. A lure. A leash. It tugs at something instinctual, something inside you domesticated — until you glance at the clock sitting on an empty nightstand and realize it’s almost 9 am.

Shit. You should have been long, long gone by now.

You exhale, cursing your constant stupidity as you drag yourself out of his bed and up to your feet — fogged vision scanning the floor, brows creasing as you realize you’re wearing nothing save for a long white shirt that surely isn’t yours — and your clothes are no where to be found.

Oh. Right.

Your clothes barely made it past the front fucking door.

Another exhale, forced from shaking lungs. You’ll have to go out there. You’ll have to face him, grab your clothes and change. It’ll be awkward, but it’s not like you haven’t been here before. Not like you haven’t been through this with past vices. It’ll be fine. It’ll be easy — you all but convince yourself. And within seconds, you’re halfway down the hall, practising your fake smile and empty thank you’s when the smell grows stronger.

Your stomach grumbles with the force of it as you step into the kitchen and —

Fuck.

Johnny stands at the stove, shirtless in grey sweats, bathed golden by the early morning light. It clings to his skin, drapes over the planes of his back, the ridges of his spine. His hair is a mess, wrecked and mussed — a souvenir from your hands as he fiddles with something in a pan, humming hypnotic under his breath.

And it’s then that you forget what you were supposed to be doing.

Because this? This is wrong. This is not how this goes. You don’t wake up like this, wrapped in the scent of coffee and breakfast, staring at a man who should’ve already been nothing more than a memory.

Your breath sticks in your throat, limbs made of cement as he turns. Catches you standing there.

And grins. “G’mornin’, bonnie.”

You blink, the exertion of it painful. You should leave.

Instead, you exhale. “You’re making breakfast.”

His lips twitch, amusement and archaism synchronized swimming in his ocean eyes. “Aye. Tha’s usually what it’s called.”

He is so at ease here, it’s unnerving. You can feel it, see it in the way he moves. Unfettered. Relaxed. It makes a knot of tension bindle between your shoulder blades — because this is familiar to him, but not to you.

Two plates. Two cups of coffee. You should leave.

“You—you don’t have to do that.”

Johnny just shrugs, turning that canvas of a back to you — red parallel lines catching under karat coated rays. Your own painting on display — you find yourself admiring it as if it wasn’t created by last nights drunken fingers.

“Ye thought I’d jus’ kick ye out?” He flips eggs in the pan. Your chest aches. “Ye were tryen t’sneak off first then?”

Your lips press into a thin line — indignant as you force your eyes to the floor. “Admittedly, that was the plan, yes.”

He tsks, shaking his head like that’s the most disappointing sentence he’s heard all week before he glances over his shoulder at you again — all beaming blue eyes and grins.

“Shame. Poor things nae used te bein taken care of, is she?”

That indignation spreads, grows a vine around your throat. Twists your tongue. “Well, I mean—I don’t—“

Johnny cuts you off with a hum. Or, more like you cut yourself off, because you have absolutely nothing to say to that and what you did offer seems to be more than enough of an answer for him.

“Ye think too much, bonnie.” Something sizzles in the pan — you watch the veins in his arms shift against whiskey skin as he lifts it off the element. “All tha’ time plotting yer escape, ye coulda’ been enjoying breakfast.”

Christ. You really should leave. You should slip back into the skin of someone who doesn’t stick around for things like this. But it’s like your feet have grown roots, burrowed beneath his floorboards. You blame it on the smell of coffee, the warmth of the kitchen. The way his fucking muscles flex as he moves.

It’s all nurture to something long rotted in your soul.

“It’s not like I was expecting breakfast.” You mutter, tugging his shirt down your thighs before crossing your arms across your chest. “Wasn’t expecting any of this, really.”

Could you be anymore fucking awkward about this?

“Tha’ right?”

You can’t see it, but you can hear the grin on his mouth. It should scare you that you are beginning to predict him — expecting something smart to come out of him next.

“Didnae expect the shag either, but ye still took it real well.”

Perhaps it should scare you more that you were right.

You clear your throat, but the heat is already rushing down your spine. Settling somewhere inconvenient. He just gives you a quick glance, lopsided leisure tilting his lips as he turns with a plate and coffee cup in hand, gesturing with his head toward the table.

“Come o’nae, I won’t bite ye.”

————————-

Turns out, Johnny MacTavish is real easy to talk to. Too easy.

Mostly because he doesn’t stop talking, but nonetheless, it whiplashes you. You came here expecting the usual routine — get in, get out, leave nothing behind but the scent of mingled sweat on strange sheets — but the one-night stand has somehow stretched into morning and now you’re sitting at his kitchen table, fork scraping against porcelain, coffee steaming — actually talking like this isn’t just borrowed time.

He tells you about Scotland. About real pubs, the kind where the floors stick to your boots and old men sing ballads in voices ruined by smoke. He talks with his hands. His shoulders. His fucking eyes — restless and full of movement, always wandering. Blue. Though that hardly cuts it — the colour of a storm sky split by lightening. Cool in the shallows and rich in the depths.

They hold contradiction well. Like they’ve seen enough of the world to be cynical but still manage to burn bright enough to keep that warmth kindling under your skin.

Perplexing.

That’s the word that sits on the tip of your tongue as you stare at him. Wondering if he was truly just another notch on your bedpost, would you still be here, trying to make sense of what you missed in the dark last night.

“So,” he says, ripping a piece of butter soaked toast in half. “Ye always bolt after?”

You pause mid-bite. Then your mouth moves dumbly. “After what?”

Johnny smirks. “After ye ride a bloke like yer life depends on it, scream his name loud enough tae wake the dead, and wake up wearen’ his shirt.”

“Jesus—“ you choke, grateful you at least swallowed your food prior to him starting that sentence, otherwise he’d be halfway to giving you the heimlich right about now. “You don’t do subtle, do you?”

“Aye.” That grin grows over the rim of his mug. “Subtlety’s a waste on a woman like ye.”

Before you can’t think better of it, you find yourself grinning back.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes flick away to catch the sunlight.

“Ye dinnae’ strike me as the half-measures type, bonnie.” Then they wander back to yours. “Means ye like a man tha’ says what he’s really thinken, tha’s all.”

That makes you pause, and you try to tell yourself you’re not blushing. It’s the warm sun at your back, or the coffee sitting thick in your belly. It’s certainly not those eyes — still on you, unashamedly, taking in whatever it is they see behind your own.

“You think you know me?” You try to make it sound as casual as possible. You know you don’t accomplish it.

“Aye.” A lazy nod. “I do.”

And that — that makes you squirm. Makes you drop your eyes to his hands as they sit against the sides of his coffee mug. Capable fingers calloused with strength, a few bruised knuckles. Your gaze drifts up to the veins on his forearm, and you stop yourself before you stare too long.

“Why?”

You hadn’t even realized you’d asked it out loud until his lips quirk like he was waiting for it.

“Wha happened te all yer self-preservation?”

You blink. Your tongue is heavy, but you make yourself use it.

“...self-preservation?”

He leans forward, arms on the table between you.

“All it took te keep ye here was a little forward hospitality. Ye got no blasted clue who I even am — yet yer still here, asken questions ye shouldnae be asken in a voice tha doesnae belong te someone looken te run.”

And you don’t know what to say to that, because admittedly it knocks everything off kilter. Leaves you wrong-footed. Lands a little too close to being right. There is safety in one-night stands and running before the sun breaks. There is safety in not learning anything about the man you share a bed with for a night if you don’t have to. You’ve been good at it. Practiced it like a bad habit.

You didn’t realize, until now, just how easy it’d been for Johnny to make you break it.

“I said I know ye,” he whispers. “Because I do m’research on who I share m’bed with.”

He leans back in his chair after that — and your eyes follow. Milliseconds stretch to seconds which stretch thin to what feels like minutes before you find some sort of wherewithal to move. You don’t want to know what he means by that, and you don’t want to look too deep to find the answers — the incrimination dunked just beneath the ocean tides in his irises.

“You are so bloody full of it.” You surprise yourself by not stuttering, staying steady as you stand. “I—I have to go.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Aye, I am.”

His eyes find yours again before you head for your clothes still scattered all over his living room floor. You swear to all kinds of unholy things that you feel the heat against the back of your skull as the flashes of last night flood your memory — his tongue on your cunt, your nails in his skin, his name on your lips—

“Ye’ll be back though, aye?”

You pause somewhere by the window, turning to note the morning light painting his hair a hundred different shades of gold. There’s an easy smile on his mouth, no trace of last night’s drunken humour in his expression.

“What?”

His smile stretches to something devilish, and you are so not used to the feeling it elicits. Not used to being charmed. Being disarmed.

“Y’like a man who says what he’s thinken.” He wets his lips. You can’t look away. “And what I’m thinken, bonnie, is tha this willnae be just a one time thing.”

He rises, then, and you get the unsettling, stomach-punching feeling that he knows. That he can see the words spinning up and dying on your tongue, can see the flush rising up your neck knowing it’s something he put there.

“Ye want te leave, go right ahead.” Your pulse thrums as he draws closer. “Just know tha when ye come back. I’ll be starven.”

Asinine, you tell yourself, but your heart is in your throat — that suffocating something licking up your spine and curling beneath your sternum. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. Time. Work. Reality. The real world standing just beyond the exit of whatever the hell this currently is.

You decide, then, that you actually do want answers.

“You—you researched me,” you find your voice, though it doesn’t come easily. Drags itself up from the pit of your throat, scraped raw by the claws of confusion . “I don’t—”

Glass touches your back through the thin veil of his t-shirt as you take a step back, snow white fabric still lazily draping the curves you let this man get well acquainted with last night. A stranger who wasn’t all that estranged, you realize.

“Relax, lass,” his voice drops to a soothing pitch. Something suiting for the cornered animal you currently feel like you are, as he steps closer again. “I didnae run a background check on yer whole bloodline, if tha’s what’s got ye hackles up.”

You clear your throat, sun beating at your back through the glass. Suffocating.

“Then tell me. What you meant.”

Tongue over teeth, he nods, palms going up. Playful as a puppy, if the puppy was rabid.

“I jus’ know who ye are. What ye do.” A pause, glimpsing down at the way your chest is rapid firing, before flicking back up. “Know someone whose kid ye teach. Speaks real highly of ye, actually.”

There’s no amount of blinks that can make those words make sense, yet you hope 10 might do it.

A parent of one of your students is talking about you. To Johnny MacTavish.

“I’m s-sorry?” You’re stuttering, now. Goddamnit. “Who? What’d they say?”

He exhales, props an arm on the glass beside your head and crosses his ankles as his body brackets yours — watching the silence drag. Watching you ruminate in it.

“S’nothin bad, bonnie. Quite the opposite.”

You’re staring at his mouth. “Johnny, who was it?”

He makes you wait, the bastard. And then—

“Price.”

The name punches the air from your lungs. “What?”

Johnny’s smile turns smug. “Captain’s kid. Ye teach ’em, aye?”

It hits you somewhere between the grin and the way he leans in. Captain.

“Price,” you repeat softly, the name tilting sideways in your mouth. “John Price?”

He stills. Just slightly.

“Aye, Captain John Price.”

You blink once, twice, brain whirring. He’s referring to him like an official superior. Routine. That means he’s either a cop. Or detective. Or FBI. or Military—

“You work with him,” you murmur.

“Work, kill, drink. Depends on the day,” he says, that thick Glaswegian accent wrapping around the truth like it’s not heavy. Military. “Didnae put it together, did ye? All tha time I was sittin’ across from ye. Ye never asked what I did. No idea I had credentials.”

You huff, stunned. Unsure what to say. Less unsure what to feel. “Christ.”

“Oh, now yer sayin’ His name,” that smile is back. Rankles you in a way you never knew until him. “Where was tha earlier when I had ye on yer knees—“

“Johnny,” you warn. “Keep talking or I’m leaving.”

He laughs, easy, leaning in until all the air feels like it’s his.

“Didnae have te dig deep, bonnie. Prefer te do all the dirty work m’self.” Eyes narrow, at that. He just keeps going. “Capn’s kid. Jamie. Talks bout ye like yer some kinda’ fairytale. Real sweet. Price said he’s never seen the kid so bright-eyed about school.”

The name finds your ears with a soft ache chained to it. Jamie Price — broad-shouldered for a ten-year-old, barely spoke unless coaxed, drew galaxies on the backs of worksheets when he thought no one was watching.

Gentle kid. Brilliant, too.

Johnny shrugs, that easy, terrible shrug like it’s all nothing. “Price asked me if I knew ye. Ranted on about how ye treat ‘em. Said he overheard ye talken to someone about the bar ye frequent. Said ye had a backbone, a kind heart, and the sort of stare tha makes grown men straighten up like schoolboys.” Blue eyes glimpse your lips, again. “But ye ain’t ever been treated right.”

Heat crawls up your neck. You’re still pressed against the glass, still unsure if you’re more flattered or frightened.

“He said that?”

The amusement falls off his face, something stern replacing it, and nods.

“There’s some things tha just stay with a man.” He shifts closer. Doesn’t touch you, though. Doesn’t need to. “He said it. Like he was tellen me not te fuck it up.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out as a weak exhale, like your body doesn’t trust relief just yet. He swallows, continues.

“I just cannae figure it out. Pretty thing like yerself. Real good with kids.” He breathes the last part thick, like it curls in his throat and tugs. Like it does things to him. “Bit of a wild ride, clearly. And somehow — yer alone. Settlen’ for quick fucks instead.”

You don’t answer immediately. You can’t. You just peer up at him, breathing made heavy by everything you’ve learned and everything he is.

“Choice, Johnny.” You whisper. “It’s by choice.”

“Aye. Choice.” He whispers back, other hand finding the glass beside your head, knees knocking as he leans in impossibly closer. “But all those men who let ye walk. Who didnae fight for ye, they’re fools.” He’s close enough your lips almost brush. No grin on them, now. Just gravity. “I’m no fool, love.”

It’s all hitting you at once, in the same place you’re pressed — against the cool pane of the balcony door. It was all set up. Johnny pulled the entire night from the ether thanks to a man you hardly know. Captain John Price. You’d only ever thought of him as John — the friendly, albeit quiet man who showed up to parent-teacher meetings with stories in his eyes. Said little. Watched everything. A ghost in your mind until now — until Johnny pieced it all together with soldiers determination and an easy tongue.

Sat beside you at the bar. Didn’t come on too strong. Didn’t press or sound too rehearsed. Made it real easy to believe it was all a coincidence.

How foolish you had been to not see through the performance.

But now, the shows over — there’s no final act. No audience to entertain. The masks have come off, and you hear it. The sincerity in the way he says I’m no fool. Like it’s not just about last night but about tomorrow and the one after that. Like he’s telling you he’ll fight for you and he’ll mean it. That this isn’t just a night. That he doesn’t want it to be.

And you’re still reeling from it when your hands find the heat of his chest. Curling around his neck without ceremony, pulling him in the final inch.

He’s kissing you.

Not like he earned it, but like he means it — and you’re kissing him back, hard, moaning as his teeth find your bottom lip and tug. He pulls back before you’re ready for him to, and your head slumps back against the glass. Breathing. Trying to will the ground back into place beneath you as he traces your jawline with his thumb.

“What else,” you croak out as he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and exhales. “Do you know about me?”

He hums, pressing closer, hips pinning your ass to the glass as you drag your digits down his chest, tracing scars like braille.

“Enough,” he answers, fervent fingers dragging the fabric of his shirt up your hips, torso. “Enough te drive me insane.”

You feel the moment your heart stutters — mouth parted with nothing to fill it but a gasp as your bare ass is exposed against his glass balcony door — giving neighbours and street dwellers a goddamn good view should they be glimpsing up—

“Wait. J-johnny.” He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even blink as you catch his wrists, pleading for reason. “Your neighbours—“

“Donnae care.” He mutters, tugging the fabric up over your head. “Let the bloody bastards watch.”

You don’t want to know what sound slips from your throat at that, but you’re sure it’s some ugly, gorgeous thing. Torn somewhere between lust and indignity as he moves — one hand bracing against the glass beside your head while the other wrestles with the waistband of his sweats, shifting until you can feel him — hot, heavy, throbbing — pressing low against your stomach.

And maybe there’s a moment where you think you should tell him you can’t do this. Something because of the neighbours or the noise or the glass sticking to your back. But his hand finds your face, eyes flooding you like atlantic as he leans in to kiss you before lifting you up, legs curling around him— teasing with false thrusts, dragging his tip slow and sinful over your clit just to swallow the noises pulled from your throat. He doesn’t need words to silence your protest but manages all the same as you’re rocking against his shaft in tandem — one hand holding his lips to yours and the other gripping his back until you’re slick and half out of your goddamn mind with need.

And if you thought he’d be gentle — well.

He doesn’t ease you down. Doesn’t waste time. Just slides into you in one heavy thrust until you’re stretched to your edges and his name is caught on a sound you don’t recognize.

“Johnny! Ohf-fuck!”

He curses, teeth grazing your jaw, hips driving forward like he’s punishing you. Or maybe himself. Probably a little of both. Regardless, there’s nothing easy or soft about this — the kind of frenzied effort that takes you apart and leaves you hoping he’ll stitch you back together. Makes you realize you needed this — the pressure, the friction, the drive deeper into your belly with every excruciating inch as you choke on the sounds he’s drawing out.

You can’t control the pleasure that pours out of you, dripping like honey over his lips as you grip the back of his neck—

“Oh—f-fu—ohgod—“ you can’t find the right words, though you’re not even trying to anymore. It’s better than a dream. Better than last night when it was all alcohol and adrenaline. This is raw. Real. And you realize, through the fog, just how easy it was to get lost in him. To let yourself. Even with nothing but the sound of his voice and the skin on his back to hold onto. “J-johnny��fuckingdeep—yes—“

He sets a frantic pace, teeth sinking into his lip like he can taste the curses you’re whispering against it.

“S’good. S’tight, mmfuck.”

Feral. Best word to describe this. Gnawing you from the inside out, leaving your thighs quivering as you fight to hold onto him, back slicking against the glass as he buries himself so deep you can barely choke out an inhale.

“M’gonna—ohmygod—“

You’re going to cum. You can feel it in the way your belly knots and your thighs tense. His smile gets lost in the crook of your neck as he grunts — not daring to slow down or give you a moment to breathe. Instead, he just slips a hand around your throat, pinning your head back to glass that’s just as humid as you.

And when his eyes finally find yours, they’re a million shades darker than they were five minutes ago. All the blue eclipsed by dark, midnight hunger as he devours like you were served to him on a silver platter.

In some metaphorical way, you know you were.

“G’on. Make a mess of me, bonnie. Know ye need it.”

You want to look away. You can’t. Not when he squeezes your throat like you’re his. Not when he rocks deep and hard and your blood is singing for more. Your pulse thumps wildly and you wonder if he’s trying to slow it with his fingers as he tightens his hold.

And so you moan, because it’s all you can do — while the words you whimper as he thrusts hard enough to make you keen don’t sound like you. They sound like someone he owns.

“Ohfuck, Johnny—yesfuckyesyes—“

It hits you like the shatter of stained glass.

Your mouth falls open, soundless at first, a broken gasp caught somewhere between your throat and tongue. Your whole body tightens, back arching off the glass as you tremble, drowning in it, orgasm dragging you under like a rip current — teeth clenched, thighs shaking, fingernails digging so hard into Johnny’s shoulders you’ll leave marks. You want to leave marks.

“Christ, lass. Tha’s it. Tha’s fucken it, baby.”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you breathe. He fucks you through it, jaw clenched, hips snapping forward like he’s chasing your high to the end of the world — like your pleasure is the only map he’s following. You’re crying out now, helpless and shaking and soaked, clenching around him so tight it borders on painful — more for him, you think — as he grunts, one hand bruised into your hip and the other braced against the glass, eyes locked to yours as you fall apart for him.

“Tha’s it, bonnie—” his voice is wrecked, sweat dripping from his brow. “Jesus Christ, s’tight—fucken’ look at ye.”

And you do.

Your head falls forward, forehead against his, eyes burning with the kind of emotion you don’t dare name as you watch him drive in and out, slick coating everything flesh. You sob a noise against his mouth, some choked half-curse, and he swallows it with a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and possession as his thrusts grow sloppy — rougher, more desperate, chasing his own breaking point.

“Can I—fuck—can I cum inside ye pretty cunt?” He pants, voice hoarse against your jaw. “Tell me no. Christ, I’ll pull out, jus’ say it—”

You don’t say it.

You just grab his face, kiss him hard, and whisper; “don’t you dare.”

That’s all it takes.

He groans — a guttural, broken sound — and slams into you once, twice more before he’s spilling inside you. Hips twitching, mouth open against your neck. And for a moment, the world goes still. Nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing. The steam on the glass. The thrum of blood in your ears.

You close your eyes. Let yourself float. You don’t know what this is — but you know it wasn’t just a fuck. Not with the way he’s still holding you. Not with the way you’re already aching to let him do it all over again.

It’s a few moments before he pulls out. Another few before you find your head.

“Christ,” you breathe, rubbing your face as he fixes himself back to modesty. “I can’t believe I—”

You cut yourself off, because what’s the point. Johnny doesn’t move, just watches you with that maddening calm — sweat still cooling along his temple, chest rising and falling slow like he’s got nowhere better to be than right here. Looking down at you the same way he did when he sat beside you at the bar.

Like he’s well acquainted with the taste of your name.

“I told myself,” you try again, “that this was a one-night thing. Just a fuck. Then breakfast. Then I leave.”

His gaze never wavers. “So why didn’ye?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Because you don’t have an answer that doesn’t make you sound like a fool. Until you give up caring.

“Maybe part of me still thinks you’re bluffing.”

“Bluffen,” he echos, leaning closer — eyes soft like snow. “Ye think I sat down beside ye at tha bar for just a fuck? You think I made ye breakfast just to be polite? Nah. I did it cause’ I already knew I wasnae’ about te let this be just once.”

You exhale — stepping back like you’re reclaiming ground, but the glass is at your back and his voice is in your blood now.

“Johnny,” you breathe. “This is mad.”

“Aye,” he agrees, extinguishing the space. “But I’m no’ lettin’ you bolt just ‘cause it scares ye.”

You blink at him. “And if I try?”

Lips at your temple, he grins.

“Go ahead. But ye best put all tha practice te good use, bonnie. Cause’ I’ll find ye.” His fingers trail up your side, electricity coursing. “And each time I’ll fuck ye harder than the last. Leave ye walkin’ funny and thinken’ of me every hour after.”

Those fingers pause, and you jolt, a shockwave behind the ribs as his words drive through you. It’s maddening and it’s sick — how fast reason betrays you. How fast you clench around nothing, aching like he’s made good on that promise. Like part of you wants to be hunted, dragged back by your hair and wrecked until all your rules blur into white noise.

It’s nonsensical. But all men before him were dull — a realization that makes your mouth dry. And all you can think about is the way his voice dragged over that sentence.

The way each time implies he’s already counted them.

“Quite the promise.” You reply.

He smiles all teeth and truce — and you know you’re already too far gone. He knows it too. Judging by the way he hums, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone.

And adds. “This wasnae’ chance. Wasnae’ luck. I came for ye because I meant te. And m’stayen’ for tha same reason.”

[oceantornadoo]

ch4 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: some mild dubcon groping but reader is into it she just hates him. (or does she????)

masterlist | next

Your mother doesn’t come to your wedding, understandably so. Her lack of presence makes the day seem less real. However, one Johnny MacTavish decides to become the Scottish mother hen you’ve been missing.

“Everyone decent in ‘ere?” A chorus of yeses ring out. Johnny opens the door to the bridal dressing room with a smile, looking suave in his tuxedo. “Shite, was hopin’ to sneak a look.” He winks at your nearest cousin and she flutters her eyes. Even as a married man, Johnny likes to flirt and fluster women. It helps hide his marriage to Simon and provides you with much entertainment.

“How’s the blushin’ bride?”

He walks over to your vanity, taking in your bridal makeup and hairdo. Johnny whistles low, reaching out to ruffle your hair, which you stop by smacking him. “The bride is hungover and not in the mood.” He shrugs, then takes a sip of your champagne on the vanity desk. “Y’r fault fer doin’ a hen do the night before. Nice job slippin’ the hag, though.” It’s your codename for Aunt Riley. She’s always been suspicious of him and Simon, making little comments here and there that have put her on his shitlist over the years.

“Thanks. I can say, the London nightlife didn’t disappoint. I might throw up at the altar though.” He snorts and takes a seat in the empty chair next to you. “Price was pissed last night. Called Simon while we were mid-” You cover his mouth with your hand. “Don’t finish that sentence. As far as I’m concerned, you guys haven’t even kissed.” Johnny licks your hand, making you squeal. “Can’t believe he called Simon like I’m a little kid and not a grown woman.”

Johnny doesn’t answer, instead popping a chocolate-covered strawberry offered by a passing waitress into his mouth. She’s been the one supplying you with Gatorade until you switched the champagne half an hour ago. Can’t believe the bridal suite has a waitress. John Price is too rich for his own good.

“The Shepherd family’s gettin’ bolder. Can’t blame ‘im fer not wantin’ ya to die before the weddin’. Would be bad publicity.” You scoff. It might be true, but John has never seemed too concerned about your health. Except that night in the park, when- never mind.

“Ya nervous?” Johnny asks. You shake your head. “Trying not to think about it. I’m more focused on not tripping in front of multiple mafia families. I’d never live it down.” He smiles, then squeezes your knee over your white dressing gown. The look he gives you is too knowing and you hate it. Instead of holding his gaze, you turn to the mirror and will any stray tears away. “You probably need to go soon. I think they’re putting me in my dress in a few minutes.” He nods, dark eyes full of understanding.

“Ya look real bonnie, doe. Gonna make a beautiful bride.” You nod, swallowing down the thickness in your throat. “Thanks, Johnny. You look handsome in your pink bowtie.” It’s the same color as the bridesmaid dresses, a horrid shade your aunt insisted on. He winks, then rises out of his chair. Johnny squeezes your shoulder, then kisses the crown of your hair like Tommy used to do. “Simon’ll walk ya down the aisle. I’ll see ya on the other side.” And just like that, he’s gone.

-

“You know you’ve turned my life upside down in only a week, right?”

“I know.”

“And you know a small part of me will always blame you for it?”

“I know.” Simon sighs.

It’s five minutes before the ceremony. You’re all dolled up in your poofy dress with perfect makeup and a bouquet in hand. A phantom weight is heavy on your left finger, waiting for the ring you tried on only a few days ago.

“Ya know I’ll always be sorry yer father is mine.” Simon murmurs. You nod stiffly, swallowing down any emotion as you look at the closed church doors in front of you. The ones that will open in a few minutes, leading your path down the aisle and to your new husband.

“I didn’t have to come back. I could have hung up on you all those years ago.”

“I know.”

“I think a small part of me wishes I had.” You whisper, like a confession. He takes your free hand and wraps it in his own. “But I think a bigger part would do it all over again.” Simon squeezes your interlaced fingers.

“Best thing tha’ ever happened t’ me, ya know that?” Your smile is weak, eyes watery as you catch his gaze. “What about Johnny?” He smiles under the mask. “Tha’s a different category, love.” You laugh, small and hollow. 

This feels like goodbye. You know it’s not, you’ll only be 200 miles away, but you’re both aware of the new boundaries around this marriage. London will be your home now, and any visit to Manchester will have to be approved, and probably accompanied, by John. That’s all it’ll be - a visit. A few days at most, doing the rounds and seeing friends and family. You’ll never live there again, never run your bookshop, never chat with regulars, never- you stop that line of thinking before you ruin your makeup.

“If he hurts ya, you call me.” You nod, but that’s not enough for Simon. A gloved hand tips your chin in his direction, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’ll call me. An’ Johnny if I don’t answer.” You nod again, firmly, which finally satisfies Simon.

“C’mere.” You hug your big brother with all your might. He’s careful, turning your face to the side so you don’t ruin your makeup. His hands tighten around your shoulders while yours can barely wrap around his torso. He’s always wearing suits but this one feels different, more structured and finely woven.

“Simon, are you wearing designer?” He stiffens, pushing you off him as you start laughing. “‘M alway wearin’ designer, comes with the job.” You shake your head vehemently. “No, you’re always wearing Fred Perry. This fabric is fancy, it’s like Dolce and Gabbana.” Your brother decidedly does not answer.

“Simon! Are you wearing Dolce to my wedding? Are you trying to upstage the bride?!” Only you, his all-knowing sister, would be able to tell he’s blushing under his mask. In an uncharacteristic move, he scratches the nape of his neck, looking off to the side like he’s suddenly interested in church architecture. “Johnny picked it out.” You slap his arm and he moves to ruffle your hair, before remembering it’s in a fancy wedding do. “You’re an absolute git, this is completely unfair. I demand you go to the nearest mall and pick something off the rack.” That comment finally dismisses the dark cloud that’s been hanging over you, sending you two into a laughing fit. 

“I wish Tommy was here. He’dve torched that suit.” His eyes crinkle in a sad smile. “I know, love. I know.” Simon kisses your forehead and you lean into his shoulder, wishing the moment would never end.

But all good things must.

A frazzled assistant, one of your Aunt Riley’s minions, practically sprints over to you. “Doors,” he wheezes, “doors opening in thirty seconds.” And just like that, he’s gone. Probably a cake emergency or something of the sort.

“Do I look okay?” You take one last glimpse in a nearby mirror. You’re wearing a traditional veil, something Simon turns up over your head to hide your face. Despite the hideous dress, the rest of your look turned out quite nice. The flowers are decent, your makeup looks great, and you were even allowed to pick out your own jewelry. A win is a win.

“Most beautiful bride th’ church’s ever seen.” Simon puts out his arm like a gentleman, letting you wrap your own around it. “I love you, Si.” He takes a second, and you swear he’s holding back tears. “Love ya too, kid.”

-

Most of the ceremony passes in a blur.

Lots of flowery words, preaching about commitments you’d rather not think about. Some scripture or Latin thrown in there, but you’re really not paying attention. You’re more concerned with the man in front of you.

Your veil is a little sheer, allowing you to see him in all his groom glory. His eyes are dark, fixated on yours, and you’d be an idiot not to notice how handsome he looks. His tuxedo is sharp, and he’s got a flower tucked into the pocket. A heliotrope, a purple that matches well with the pink bridesmaid dresses. A half memory comes to you, something about heliotropes and eternal devotion, but you tuck that away under your might be mad box.

Finally, it comes to the vows. You haven’t written any and neither has John, instead deciding to use the olden ones. It frightens you, to have this surly man swear you such promises.

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

He takes off your veil and you swear his breath hitches. It’s just a split second, but the muscle of his throat freezes and you’re captivated by how manly he looks. All bitter thoughts of enemies can be paused for a moment, you reason.

“You may now kiss the bride.” And he does.

It is not a polite kiss. You don’t know why you thought it would be.

He’s hungry. He catches the small of your back in one hand and your waist in the other, dipping you back in a picture perfect moment. His lips devour yours, delivering small bites and licks before pulling back so suddenly you think you’ve imagined it. You blink and you’re standing, your hand wrapped in John’s, as you look out at the cheering crowd. Mr. and Mrs. John Price.

-

You try to avoid John during the reception, which takes place in the backyard of the local country club. It’s hard to do when you’re supposed to thank everyone as a couple. You greet mafia and community leaders and business owners and politicians, all with the same sweet smile and John’s hand on your back. Do they know this was arranged? It’s hard to tell from the venomous sincerity dripping from their foaming mouths, eyes scanning the four-carat rock on your hand like it’s a prize to be won.

At least you’ve been allowed to change into a lighter dress. The reception dress is shorter, falling respectably right above your knees with long sleeves and a low back. Not low enough to show off the temporary tramp stamp smudged on your back. You keep the veil in, a cute detail that the inner little girl in you adores. If only this was a wedding you wanted.

Thankfully, champagne is in constant supply. You must have drunk at least four flutes now. That, plus your lack of food due to your hangover, makes you sway. John, who has not spoken to you directly at all since maiming your lips at the altar, notices. He tugs you away from the crowd, finding a secluded bench tucked away behind a tree. It reminds you of the garden you met him in a few nights ago.

“Thank god. One more sweaty handshake and I would have keeled over.” You murmur, mostly to yourself. He grunts, taking a seat next to you on the bench and loosening his tie.

“Who said you could sit next to me?” Uh oh. Drunk you is talking.

“‘S gonna be like that? We’re barely five minutes in, sweetheart.” He drags a hand down his face in an exhausted and adorable manner. No. This is the enemy. You must remind the both of you of that fact.

“You’re the enemy.” You poke him sternly in the shoulder, which sort of ruins the effortless effect you were going for. “You finally gonna tell me wha’ I did t’ you? Or is this our next ten years?” You frown at his words, crossing your hands over your chest. He’s acting like you did something wrong, not him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see John avert his gaze as you inevitably (and accidentally) push up your tits. Interesting.

“You ruined my life.” He barks out a laugh. “‘Ve ruined a lot of people’s lives. Need ya t’ be more specific.” Instead of answering, you slide down awkwardly into the grass beneath you, leaning your head back on the bench. It’s nighttime now and the only thing in the sky is the North Star. John’s star.

“You told my father I was a weakness and,” you hiccup, “and you told him to send me away. And lookwherethatgotme…” You trail off, eyes fluttering. Your eyes feel a thousand times heavier than normal, and everything hits you at once. Your lack of sleep from your night out, the stress of the day, the emotional conversations - they all boil over like a pot on the stove. “Think I’m gonna sleep now…” John hums, still next to you, and you drift off to the sound.

-

When you wake up, your head is throbbing. Why are you sitting on grass? There’s a suit jacket covering your front, keeping you warm from the night’s chill. Your neck throbs from laying back on the stone bench. There’s a stink in the air, a nasty smell, and when you turn to your right, you see your new husband smoking. Jacketless.

“Nice nap?” You nod, embarrassment coursing through your veins like a drug. “How long was I out?” He flicks the ash of his cigar onto the grass. “Long ‘nough people thought we were consummatin’ the marriage.” Oh. That was…not something you needed to think about.

“You feelin’ sober? Remember anythin’ you said?” You shake your head. Unbeknownst to you, John is frowning. The last few hours are a blur, a black spot in your memory. There’s still alcohol in your body, but a headache is starting to form as well. 

“Let’s get some food in ya. Can’t have my new wife droppin’ dead at the weddin’.” You let him help you up, slipping on his jacket to cover the grass stains on your dress. That’s the only reason you don’t take it off.

-

The rest of the night gets easier. Dinner saves you, but then Johnny’s putting drinks in your hands and your cousins are pulling you to the dance floor. You have an emotional dance with Simon, a not-so emotional one with John, and then you’re passed to a slew of people to make nice with. 

It’s 2am when the party finally settles down. People have gone home, thankfully including your aunt, and you say your goodbyes. John takes you back to the Ritz, a silent, quick car ride. You’re thankful for the quiet but confused all the same. The air is charged, like you just had an argument and lost. Is he mad? Regretting this? You don’t know him enough to tell, and that irks you.

The elevator takes you to the penthouse this time. Only the best for the king of London. John stands beside you, no hand on your back. It’s entirely businesslike: the walk to the room, shutting yourself in the bathroom, donning pajamas and a dressing gown. You would shower, but you need to finish your routine at the vanity.

If this were a real wedding, maybe he would have carried you in his arms over the threshold. Maybe he wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands off you, ravishing you in the entryway. Maybe he’d whisper in your ear, “Mrs. Price”.

Instead of that fantasy, you’re tipsy and angry about the fact that you are now Mrs. Price. Maybe that’s why you say it.

“I’m not a virgin.” You’re at the vanity, taking out the mountains of jewelry that pour out of every crevice of your body. It’s the last thing to remove before the weight of your wedding is off your shoulders. The mirror is giant, big enough so you can see John stop unbuttoning his shirt when you say the words. “You’re not?” You shake your head. He frowns. “Might as well send ya back now, get my money, and-,” he stops. Maybe it’s because you’re staring hard at his reflection. You don’t even like him, but the champagne and sting of rejection cut deep.

“Was jokin’, sweetheart. Didn’t expect you t’ be a virgin. Too much pressure, honestly.” Oh. Oh. He’s always called you sweetheart, spit it out like poison designed to kill. This is the first time he’s said it kindly and your heart curls around the word like a sleepy cat. Which will absolutely not do.

“Will make it easier, I reckon. ‘S a tight fit.” He winks jokingly and you scoff at his insinuation. He’s being oddly jovial, a 180 from the car ride, and you need to ruin this truce before it becomes permanent. 

“Sure, that’s probably what your exes have said. It was probably a ‘tight fit’ because they weren’t wet, John. Ever heard of foreplay? F-o-r-e-p-l-a-y, look it up. I expect-”, except you don’t get to tell him your expectations because he’s shut you up with a calloused hand around your throat. It’s not violent and you know he wouldn’t hurt you, but the shock factor hits its target.

“Yer used t’ yer brother an’ his men, crude jokes an’ the like. I get it. But I demand respect an’ you’ll respect your husband now. Got it?” He isn’t blocking your airway, just holding your throat with his hand like a collar around it. He stands behind you with his unbuttoned shirt, giving you a glimpse of his hairy torso, hard with muscle. “The same way you respect me?” You mutter. He straightens in the mirror, his hand loose. A thumb caresses your jawbone, one stroke then two, before he pulls it away completely like it never happened. “I’m tryin’ to. Let’s agree on that, yeah?” You nod stiffly, sobered and treading with cautious feet. Is this how he’ll be? Acting like a military captain, an all-consuming force?

“And, sweetheart.” He grabs your free hand, the one lying on the desk. His large paw engulfs your own, bringing it to the outline of his cock in his boxers. You can feel the weight of him and, against your will, you squeeze. He’s thick, no, girthy. The fabric is thin, allowing you to feel the ridges of his cock, the veins, and its shape. Your hand acts of its own accord, sliding down until your thumb brushes the mushroomed tip. His cock twitches in your hand and you jump in your seat, snatching your hand away like it’s on fire. His chuckle is low and bruising, a damning caress. 

“Thought so.” And your new husband walks away. 

When you toss your silk dressing gown into the hamper for housekeeping, neither of you comment on the wet spot that’s soaked through. That’s the closest you get to consummating your marriage tonight.

-

i dont care if this is in london, im using miles. deal with it

-

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[sharkylass]

ALRIGHT IN STARS AND TIME FANDOM, I'M BOUT TO HIT YOU WITH MY TAKE ON THE BELOVED SISTER!!

Those who don't want to get spoiled about little details about Bonnie's sister (or the game at all for that matter- There's spoilers for Act 3 and 4 in here so YOU'VE BEEN WARNED)

SAY HELLO TO PETRONILLE!! Or how I am going to call her, Nil. I've seen a few people do their take on her, and I wanted to join in!

@insertdisc5 I am sorry in advance if you have a vision for her, especially if it is WILDLY different to mine-

KEEP IN MIND, I AM GOING TO BE RANTING A LOT, IVE HAD THIS IN THE MAKING FOR A WHILE, THERE'S MORE ART, SO SKIP AHEAD IF YOU'D LIKE

First thing's first! I tried to figure out what she would look like in the original style. I didn't want to overly detail her with my normal style, and I wanted her to somewhat fit in with the rest. Bonnie was clearly the strongest inspiration , she has their eyes, the black hair, white thing around their head to bring attention to her face- That's also why she has lip piercings! To bring more attention to her face (and due to Bonnie's earring type, I assumed piercings can exist in the world)

Her ear has 3 earrings, that was not intentional, I just thought it was cool. I like to think they perceive those as "regular" earrings, and even if a person wears bonding earrings, they can also wear more normal earrings.

I just had the image of her not really having a short range weapon, so maybe it's time for someone with a semi-long range weapon to join the team! In my head Nil seemed to be the type to like getting dirty with her hands, so a rope seemed fitting somehow.

Also- She is paper type! I liked the idea of her looking like such a rock type, but being paper. I considered making her dual type, but since those are rare, I didn't want to get ahead of myself. Admittedly, that does make the party a little overloaded with paper types, so if she was to be in a game with balancing, I'd probably change her to rock or something. BUT AS A CHARACTER THING- she remains paper.

(EDIT: I was just reminded of the huge hammer she broke a wall with, so that is ABSOLUTELY a valid replacement weapon for her. If she was rock type that would be her weapon for sure. Altho it IS funny to imagine she broke the wall and swore off heavy weapons for life. I like to think thats what happened with my take on Nil)

Mechanically I think she wouldn't be too dissimular to Isabeau, but instead of boosting the party, she debuffs the enemy. Particularly slowing them down, and lowing defense. Alternatively, I can see her being a second healer of sorts, but while Mira is good at healing everyone, Nil is good at healing a single person and giving them a boost (just things she learned to take care of Bon). I do see her attack not being that high tho, probably lower then Mira.

ALRIGHT, TIME FOR MORE ART

Her dynamics with everyone:

Bonnie:

I like to think Bonnie got their spunky attitude from somewhere. So I like to think Nil is very playful with them, even if she is looking out for them. Bonnie clearly knows the difference between lighthearted serious, and SERIOUS serious. They also seem to revel in compliments, so I like to imagine they are used to receiving them from their sister!

Nil is the most serious around Bonnie tho. As their sole caretaker, she's trying her best to keep them out of trouble while teaching them and letting them grow at a normal pace.

However, when she's with the adults- I described it like- Around Bonnie she can be serious and a voice of reason. When she's with adults tho she herself becomes the Bonnie, so to speak. She's loud and a bit hot-headed.

Mirabelle:

I swear I saw Insertdisc mention that Mira and Nil would have a bit of a rivalry going on AND I'M SO HERE FOR IT-

The two of them are those siblings that fight constantly, but the moment someone else gives either of them shit, the other will go for the jugular. They mainly try to compete for Bon's affection and who's the better sister, and they get a bit... blindsighted. Nil usually doesn't go out of her way to spoil Bonnie I don't think, I think she tries to be reasonable with them where she can. However with Mira in the picture it becomes- a little hard... Nil doesn't like the thought that she's being replaced

However, if either of them needs it, the other will be there. Nil provides Mira with a strong shoulder to lean on, and Mira provides an emotional yet reasonable approach to the situation bothering Nil.

Odile:

I like to think at first Nil didn't really get along with Odile. Supposedly Nil has a bad relationship with her parents, so I imagine her seeing someone who's a parent aged adult who holds seemingly more authority- It would... Unnerve her for a little while.

Odile will probably give her something to do, and Nil would refuse, because who is Odile to be ordering her around?? You know. Like a child. But with time they get used to the dynamic, Nil grows to respect Odile at the very least, and Odile picks up on the fact Nil seems to respond positively to positive reinforcement from her.

Having someone close, to break that pre build idea in Nil's head with positivity, despite Odile being strict and struggling to show affection- It would do her a lot of good, and Nil will eventually thank her, and apologize for being so rough to her in the beginning.

Isabeau:

Isa and Nil are actually very similar- I did not mean for it, but I hope they don't end up being TOO similar.

They are both loud, love to laugh and take care of those they love. Even their hobbies are a bit more similar then everyone else. Nil likes gardening, and taking care of things, and Isa likes to create clothes. Both of them are in a way creating something. Nil making sure what she's taking care of grows to be big and strong, and Isa is more literal-

Where they differ is in smarts partly. Isa is clearly very book smart. I think Nil would turn to him if she had a general question about something (and later on Odile once she gets used to her). She completely encourages him to show more of what he knows.

They also differ in their buffness slightly. While Isa is still the beefiest on the team, he did it with the intention, he trained. Meanwhile I think Nil just likes the field work so she's constantly outside doing heavy dirty work.

I like to think that after being unfrozen, Nil's clothes were roughed up and she didn't really think to or have the time to fix it. So I imagine Isa saw the roughed up state of her pants and gloves, and made her some himself, Which she treasures but GOD she is not used to receiving anything from anyone, LET ALONE gifts.

They also similarly hide their insecurities under bavado. Isa hides his smarts to be liked, and Nil hides her fears so she can be brave. I'll go more into detail when I get to Nil's own section. (I SWEAR I didn't mean for Isa's section to be so long I PROMISE-)

Siffrin:

These two don't do a lot of talking I'd imagine. While Nil is used to being loud, I think she'd get used to the silence around Sif and simply enjoy the quiet.

A lot of the ideas I had with those two were very touch focused. I assume Nil struggles with touch because of potential childhood related traumas, and not being warned sends her into a fight or flight. While Sif is deeply unused to it but craves it.

I still imagine Nil isn't an inherently NOT touchy person- I mean. Bon's the touchiest little guy out there. So maybe she knows how to warn people of when she's about to touch them, AND she is more used to asking for hugs and affection. So after she learns that Sif struggles asking and being startled, she became the person that would encourage them and tell them how to do it. In every single drawing where they're touching just know that either she warned them or they asked for that touch.

Also Nil is a very grounding reminder for Sif that he's not in the loops anymore. So if they get a particular scare, like they were woken up wrong, they had a rough sleep, smelled a banana, remembered the king- anything involving going back- Nil serves as a reminder that they're here, with everyone, in the present. No going back. So that, combined with their touch therapy, it results in him being particularly physically clingy with her. She squeezes their hand ocassionally. It's a grounding reminder.

Nil is also UNBELIEVABLY THANKFUL for Sif, once she learns about how they lost their eye. The fact Sif went out of their way to protect HER little sibling- It means the world to her, and she wouldn't wish it on Sif one bit. She probably holds guilt that she couldn't take the hit for both of them, Bonnie is her responsibility! They probably end up having a conversation similar to Sif telling Mira "Do you think she was wrong? To save you?" She doesn't know about the end of act 3

AAAAAND NIL HERSELF!

A lot of this is already information I mentioned. Her being a paper type, her liking bugs, being traumatized, startled by touch- But I drew these beforehand, so!

I imagine Nil ran away young, cause Bonnie doesn't remember her running from their parents. What happened in there, I do not know and I don't think I'm capable of imagining. It might not even be as dramatic as I illustrated it. But either way, she grew up being the sole caretaker of Bonnie. I'm sure Vaugardians were kind and that they didn't have to struggle too hard for food or a place, or to get Bonnie into a school- But Nil still wanted to learn how to be self sufficient, how to provide in case something happens. It might be why they live in Bambouche honestly, Nil learned how to grow plants and being close to the sea is good for catching a lot of fish! ...It was also at the edge of Vaugarde. Probably the edges where the King's curse reached slower.

She likes getting her hands dirty and working outside, so I imagine she's a bit sunburnt! If only on her shoulders and cheeks.

Growing up alone, self sufficient- She probably had to grow a bit fast (even if she indulges in childish things with Bonbon). She quickly started repressing all fears, all questions of her decision to run away. I imagine she's actually insecure in her abilities, how Bon deserves more capable people in their life, how she doesn't really know anything and how she literally got frozen and Bonnie had to fend for themselves- After Bon comes back, she's so filled with admiration and adoration for her little sibling. They really went to the ends of the earth and saved the world. What a brave little sibling she has.

The new family kind of... Feels like a threat to her title as sister at the start. All 5 of them saved a country. The people Bonnie met are strong, knowledgeable, been all over the world- She's glad they protect Bonnie. She just wishes she had something to offer. It takes her a little while to realize they are also there for her too.

I was ranting to a friend, and I am pretty sure we know Nil would like to travel after everything. Being able to explore her more child like fantasies, with the safety blanket that is the family- It means a lot to her. She gets to truly indulge in living and letting loose and depending on people for the first time in her life.

Afterwards tho... I like to imagine she would settle down. It takes a while, but she likes having a place to call her own. And so we talked about how she would probably have a ranch of some sort. I like to imagine she'd love having horses. A way for her to remain free spirited, while taking care of creatures and having the security of a place to rest at the end of the day. And if she chooses, she can go wherever she wants with those bad boys!

My friend mentioned they might have goats or sheep or chicken, and I'm all aboard for that too. I'm not settled on the idea of a farm life for her, but I like it.

Also if I dare pull a Dreaming One for a second- Bonnie and Sif are like little siblings to her, Mira is like a twin (or relatively same aged), Isa is like an older brother, and Odile the everlasting grandma.

ALRIGHT THAT TOOK A WHILE-

Sorry, I started drawing her for fun and just started BRAINROTTING about her out of nowhere.

I still have little doodle ideas but this was already getting so lengthy so I am going to leave it here, and maybe return another day.

I just deeply wanted to establish Nil as her own character who can fit within the group's dynamic and belong in the family. While she very much IS Bonnie's sister and that's such a big part of her, I wanted to expand her a little further.

If you took the time to read, THANK YOU. I HOPE YOU LIKE HER, AND THAT YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL REST OF YOUR DAY

P.S. IF YOU DRAW OR WRITE WITH HER I BEG YOU TO TAG ME

[linaslore]

s.s. | the ripper's confession (one-shot)

a/n: well, i'm back in my tvd era and since I'm team stefan i came up with this. it's my first time writing smut, so please don't judge.

warnings: MINORS, DNI. mentions of blood, death, ripper!stefan, language, smut with some plot, dirty talking, mutual masturbation., piv. english is not my first language. some stuff may not be accurate, so please don't mind if I'm not faithful to the shows storyline. not truly proof-read.

summary: you are determined to find stefan after klaus forced him to run away, but one night, you receive a mysterious visit.

stefan salvatore x afab!reader.

please don't copy or translate my work!

It’s been about a month since Klaus convinced, well, blackmailed Stefan to travel with him. The hybrid forced him to turn off his humanity to “unlock his full potential” in exchange for his blood to cure Damon from a werewolf bite. And of course, Stefan accepted that deal because he would do anything for his big brother, despite all the arguments and disagreements they had over the last century. In the end, they loved each other immensely. 

So, the younger Salvatore has been M.I.A since then. Elena and Damon weren’t the only ones who were desperately trying to locate him. You were also dead set on finding him. He had helped you learn the ropes of being a vampire. 

Yeah, that’s right, you were also part of “blood lust club”, as Damon has often nicknamed your kind. Needless to say, you aren’t a vampire on your own volition. And worst of all, the way it happened was kinda stupid; or at least the first part. 

Last year, Alaric was training Jeremy, Matt, Elena and yourself on how to fight vampires with different weapons. Stefan and Damon were also there because they were going to help with actual vampire combat. Well, let’s be honest, Damon was there just to make fun of ‘baby Gilbert’ and ‘Bus boy’. But he couldn’t deny he didn’t enjoy “fighting” against Elena as he was really close to her and got to touch her body.

You were no better than him though. You focused more on casually staring at Stefan, who was wearing his typical white tank top that accentuated the muscles on his arms and back, than on the training itself. Anyways, Matt and Jeremy were practising shooting arrows at Stefan and even though they couldn’t hurt him, they weren’t doing it sooo bad – until Matt made a wrong movement and his arrow landed on your stomach. Everything happened so fast that not even the supernatural creatures were able to prevent it. 

Stefan didn’t hesitate for a second to give you his blood to heal you after removing the arrow from your body. Matt was truly sorry and you told him it was okay, that it was an accident but you weren’t perfect and held a small internal grudge against him. If you ever had the chance to train fighting only with him you would accidentally kick him in the groin.

However, you would have forgiven him more easily if that night had not been a full moon and Tyler had not freed himself from the Lockwoods' cellar and had not attacked you in the middle of the woods. Caroline, who was helping him with his werewolf problems, tried to heal you with her blood but it was too late, you were already dead. 

Hence, the combination of those two unfortunate events had resulted in you becoming a vampire. Stefan helped you to cope with your new condition. You honestly didn’t know what you would have done without him. And for this reason, you truly didn’t care if you had to move heaven and earth to save him from Klaus, or mostly, from himself, since he’s a ripper without his emotions and whenever he had come down from that high, he had serious symptoms of guilt and distress. You wanted to be there for him the same way he had been there for you.

One Friday evening, you were about to go out to meet with another witch to help you do a locator spell. Of course Bonnie was also helping to find Stefan, but she was dealing with getting her mom back after years of abandonment, so you didn’t want to bother her more than necessary. And besides, you needed the strongest witch you could find nearby Mystic Falls. You knew that Bonnie was powerful and had a lot of potential, but she was a relatively new witch. Whenever she had tried to do the locator spell, she had no results. Klaus somehow made Stefan vanish into thin air. 

So, as you were putting all the things you needed in your bag, someone knocked at your door. Who could it be? You had talked to Elena two hours ago and although you didn’t tell her specifically what you were going to do, you told her that you were going out for more clues of Stefan and that you would call her if you found something promising. 

You got closer to your door as you tried to listen with your vampire hearing to get anything from the person outside your apartment, but you stood there with nothing. You took a deep breath and opened the door, mentally preparing to attack. Time seemed to stop once you realized who it was.

“Stefan?”

You were too perplexed to say anything else. After all the time spent looking for him, he was there, at your front door. He was wearing a red plaid flannel and a pair of black trousers. He didn’t look injured or anything but something didn’t seem right. He didn’t look like the Stefan you knew. His eyes were different. The way he was looking at you was different. He may still have his humanity off. You needed to be careful.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”, he said as got closer to you. Your instincts made you give one step back but this didn’t stop him from walking towards you every time you got away from him. He closed the door once you were both inside. You had millions of questions for him, but you only managed to get one out.

“Did you escape from Klaus?”, you hoped his answer was affirmative.

“Not really, he’s too busy bickering with his siblings and putting a dagger in their chests if they say the wrong thing. He won’t mind if I'm gone", you were utterly confused. "So I thought I could pay you a visit and entertain myself with you”. 

When your back hit one of the walls of your apartment, he placed a hand on your cheek, slowly caressing it. However, there wasn’t love or anything similar in his eyes. All you could see was lust.

“What do you mean?”, you asked him, gathering the strength from God knows where. You were too close to him. One small movement and your lips could touch his.

“I came here to do something I should have done a long time ago”, he replied, his voice getting deeper and darker as the conversation continued. His eyes were fixed on yours, but he stole glances at your lips to get his message across.

“But, what about Elena?”, he rolled his eyes at your question and took his hand away from your cheek. He placed it on the wall beside your head.

There were a thousand things you could have said to him or certainly you could have managed all this situation a lot better, but the almost lack of space between you two didn’t allow you to think straight. In fact, you could not think. At all.

“I know I should care about Elena, she’s my girlfriend, after all, but I really don’t. And besides, do you think I’m not aware of how attracted she’s to Damon now? It seems being away from her gave her a free way to catch feelings for him”. He moved his face to whisper in your right ear. "And you don’t have to pretend with me”, he paused and your heart skipped a beat. “I know you don’t like her." He moved his face back to the original place. His lips barely separated from yours. "Having my humanity off has made me honest with myself. I’ve always thought you were really hot, but because of her, I pushed that thought to the back of my mind. But I cannot deny that sometimes when I see you, I cannot stop thinking about all the things I’d do to you."

That was it.

You lost whatever small ounce of self-control you had. You also have always thought Stefan was attractive but, of course, you didn’t make any move because of Elena. You weren’t the best of friends but she had knew him first and, besides, you'd like to think you had some sense of girl code in you. However, the closer Stefan and you had become as he helped you be a good vampire, the more difficult this task became. Your feelings for him grew stronger each day.

Moreover, a memory came up into your brain to help you justify what you were about to do. Damon, Elena, Jeremy and you had gone on a trip to find out if some clues about Stefan’s location were true. You stayed one night in a motel; the girls in one room and the boys in another. You couldn’t sleep at all because of the anxiety and disappointment over not finding him. So you heard Elena when she got up from her bed and exited your room. At first you didn’t pay much attention to her but then you started hearing some whispering. You used your vamp hearing and discovered she was talking to Damon. Then, they stopped talking and started kissing. You were about to get up and interrupt their wrongdoings but you decided against it because Damon would snap your neck and leave you to your luck far away from there.

“So, Stefan, what’s stopping you now?”, you retorted as he made you come back to reality by kissing your neck.

He gave you a devilish grin and proceeded to attack your lips without mercy for a while. Then, he placed his larger hands on your butt, cueing you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. You happily did so and continued to kiss him as if it was the last thing you’d do on this planet.

You couldn’t really believe that this was really happening. You were making out with Stefan Salvatore. Well, a humanity-less version of him. You knew this was not ideal, but you decided you’ll deal with the afterthoughts and consequences tomorrow. Without breaking the kiss, he moved you both to the couch and sat on it. You started messing his hair with your hands while you positioned yourself more comfortably to straddle him.

However, despite the fact he kissed you stupid, one question popped into your head and you wouldn’t be able to stop overthinking if you didn’t ask him, so you told him to stop.

“I know you want this more than I do. As a matter of fact, I can feel it”, directing his eyes to his lap, where you were seated. You were wearing a skirt and your wetness has trespassed onto his pants. “Why did you stop?”, he started kissing and slightly biting your neck.

“Are you going to regret this when you turn your humanity back on?” You did not have your own humanity off, so that question came out of your mouth filled with anxiety and a bit of pain. He stopped his work on your neck and looked deeply into your eyes.

“Not at all. Trust me, I’m just doing what humanity-on-Stefan would have liked to do but he was too much of a coward to dare”, he reassured you and you let out a shy smile. “Now, shall we go back to our hot makeout session?”

You found it somewhat sweet that no humanity Stefan asked you if you could continue what you were doing instead of simply kissing you again. It almost felt like he was taking care of you. Maybe the Stefan you knew was not too buried inside of the ripper.

As an answer, you kissed the corner of his lips and then he placed one of his hands on the back of your neck to direct your lips to his and the other on your thigh. You couldn’t take it anymore, you need him in all the possible ways.

“Stefan, please”, you whispered against his lips, dragging the final “e” a bit.

“Please what?”

“You know…”

“Mh, no, I don’t… Tell me what you want.”

You broke the kiss and looked at him once again. You were just discovering he liked being begged. He placed both of his hands on either side of your waist and raised his eyebrows.

“Please fuck me”

“Your wish is my command, princess”.

You didn’t have much time to process the way he called you because he started trailing a path of kisses from the corner of your lips to both of your breasts. In the meantime, you started unbuttoning his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful”, he started talking in between said kisses. “I can’t believe how long I took to have you like this”.

You moved to the waistband of his pants and removed his belt while he used one of his hands to put your panties to the side and massage your clit with slow but constant circles. You put your face on the crook of his neck to shut your moans. You didn’t want your neighbours to find out you were having sex but Stefan grabbed your loose hair with his hand and pulled your head back so he could look at you.

“No, no, no. I want to hear the pretty sounds you make, princess”, he demanded as he continued playing with your clit. His movements became quicker.

The way he said that fucking pet name again could just instantly make you cum. But he didn’t have to know that, so you lifted your body so you could lower his jeans enough to have access to his cock. You slid your hand inside his boxers and started stroking his dick slowly. You guessed he was well-equipped because you had stolen glances at him while he was wearing sweatpants and they made his groin more noticeable than jeans. Yet, you never imagined how gifted he was.

The groans he was letting out due to your actions were doing it for you too. You didn’t know that you could get more turned on than you already were at this point. 

“You’re taking care of me so well, Y/N”.

“Stefan, please, don’t stop”.

You were very close to finding your release and you could tell he was pretty close too. It seems he was reading your mind so he inserted one of his fingers inside your cunt over and over, while his thumb kept caressing your clit. You moved to work on his neck. You grazed your fangs along it, without actually biting him, while you kept your handjob.

“You’re about to cum, right, baby?”, he managed to say in between moans and sighs. He added one more finger.

You nodded as you could. All of this was too much for you. Not only are you seconds away from reaching your climax, but also because it was him provoking it. And on top of that, he called you baby. Probably it was an empty word for him, but for your sake, you’re going to pretend he actually means it.

And just like that, both of you came. Your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. You have had sex before, but none of the other boys have made you feel like this. And he only used his fingers. You pressed your forehead against his as you came down from the high and smiled at him. And he gave you one of his. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his beautiful smile until he smiled at you.

You started moving in order to stand up from his lap but he immediately put his hands on your waist to stop you. And, of course he did because he was so much stronger than you.

“Where are you going? For your information, I’m not done with you”, he smirked again and your brain almost exploded at how hot he is.

“I just wanted to move this to the bedroom”, you answered using a really innocent voice and looking away because honestly you were feeling kinda embarrassed. You’ve never been this blunt with anybody.

“Oh, who would have thought?”, he remarked as he got up from the couch, still holding you with his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. “You were always so shy, so introverted, so obedient”, he attacked your neck with wet kisses again as he moved to your bedroom. If you were being honest, you were a bit disappointed that he couldn’t leave hickeys on your skin. They would stay for a couple of seconds but then disappear due to your supernatural healing abilities. You wanted him to leave some kind of mark on you.

“Who would have thought you would be this dirty?” he continued as both of you fell on your bed. He stayed on top of you this time. While making eye contact with you for the millionth time, he took off your skirt and panties in two swift movements. You finished removing his shirt and kept lowering his pants together with his underwear to his ankles. He did the rest and you took off your t-shirt. He smirked when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. Now that you were both fully naked, his fingers touched teasingly your cunt again.

“I can believe how wet you still are after you came on my fingers. Is this all because of me?”. You nodded but he raised an eyebrow. He wanted you to use your words.

“Yes, Stefan. I’m a mess because of you”.

“Thank you, princess. I’d better reward you for making me feel so flattered.”

He grabbed his dick and started teasing your entrance. You looked at him to plead him to fuck you for once and for all. You loved the way he fingered you, but you needed more. You needed all of him. He stopped playing around with you and slammed his cock inside of you. He didn’t even give you time to adjust to his length and girth and he started rocking in and out of you roughly. You didn’t care, at all. You were having the time of your life.

As a reflex, you bit your inferior lip to shut your moans. He gave you a disappointed look.

“Remember what I said before, baby. I want to hear you”, he said as he pounded slowly but also deeply into your hole. “In fact, I want every single person and creature in this damn town to hear you. I want them to know who’s making you feel this good”.

You obeyed his request as you moaned without any restrictions. To hell with everyone and everything, you know you won’t regret all this, ever. Even if Stefan doesn’t give you the time of the day anymore after tonight.

He kept fucking you so good that you were ashamedly close to your second orgasm. You were constantly moaning his name quite loudly and rolling your eyes.

“You’re such a good girl. You’re making me feel amazing”, Stefan said while letting out heavy sighs.

Your vision started getting blurry and you couldn’t hear very well anymore. You were truly overwhelmed with pleasure. Stefan was going to be the real death of you. 

“I know you’re close, princess. Give me one more, please. Be my good girl”

You couldn’t take it anymore and you felt like your whole body was going to explode. Him calling you his good girl was the cherry on top of the cake. This second climax was just as intense as the first one, maybe even more. You no longer cared about hickeys anymore. He had surely ruined you for others.

He came shortly after you, letting out a sound similar to a growl and collapsed beside you on the bed. You turned your body to the side in order to face him. You couldn’t stop looking at him, at how beautiful he was. You saw something flickering through his eyes, but couldn't pinpoint what. Maybe some of his emotions were getting back. You were secretly hoping you would be the one that brought him back.

You also were aware of how heavily you two were breathing. For a second, you forgot you were technically dead. You let out a laugh as you put your bed covers over your two bodies.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing… it’s just before you came to my apartment, I was about to go out to meet a witch.” You continued to smile but his eyebrows frowned, still not understanding. “She was going to help me make a locator spell to find you.” He finally chuckled at the irony.

You couldn’t contain yourself and placed a hand on his cheek and got closer to kiss him deeply. He kissed you back with the same intensity and put his arm around your waist. You wanted to let him know what he meant to you; how much you liked him. And he seemed to get the message because you felt him tense up.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I have to go…” he said, breaking the kiss.

“No, don’t. Please, can you stay?”, you looked at him, begging him with your puppy face to get him to do what you wanted.

“OK, just a while” He turned you around so he could spoon you from behind and kept you wrapped under his arms. His legs were also tangled with yours. “Until you fall asleep”.

“Thanks”

That’s all you have managed to say. It was quite difficult for you to fall asleep. All the things you did previously were  still fresh in your mind. Another question popped into your head. You prayed he hadn’t fallen asleep, but given that his breathing was still a bit irregular, you believed he had not.

“Stefan?”, you called his name quietly, afraid of speaking too loudly, in case all this had been a dream and you were about to wake up. 

“Yeah, I’m here”, you felt him put his face on the space between your neck and your shoulder.

“When are you coming back to us?”, you made a small pause. “To me?”

“Really soon, princess. I just need to find my window to finally get away from Klaus.”

You felt how he held you a bit tighter than before, as if he also thought this was just a dream and that you were going to disappear at any minute. Your body started to relax under his embrace. Finally, your mind drifted to a world in which you can stay like this forever. Away from all the bad things that happened around you two. Away to a world in which Stefan was yours and you were his. In this life, though, you were.

“I love you”, you blurted out almost inaudibly, without really processing what came out of your mouth due to your sleepiness, but Stefan caught it. 

He didn’t know what to say, his humanity was coming back, bit by bit. His thoughts were all over the place. He had to fight and conquer all his demons in order to defeat Klaus and make his way back to his home, and, to you. 

He also had to solve the ‘Elena situation’. He loved her, but he noticed how both of them drifted away from each other. Their relationship was not the same after she started to let Damon in. Of course, she wasn’t the only one to blame. He also had let you into his heart and he couldn’t help but notice how exciting the idea of starting a story with you was.

He later noticed that you fell profoundly asleep. Your breathing was calm and steady. He started slowly untangling himself from your body, trying not to wake you. He didn’t want to leave you like this, but he was afraid that Klaus, or his minions, would find where he went and harm you in any way. So, he had no other choice than parting now that hopefully you wouldn’t notice. Before exiting your room, and apartment, he gave you a light kiss on your forehead. As a promise that he’d be back soon, as he had said to you.

At least now he knew he had a reason to come back to Mystic Falls. He had you. And he knew you’d wait for him, no matter how long or what it takes. His princess would be there.

the end!

well, i hope you'd enjoyed this. or that at least the smut part wasn't cringey. i'd love to read some feedback. thank you for reading!

[willbethehero]

The Displaced Flower and the Saviors’ Youngest (aka Bonnie The Kid Finds White Lily Cookie)

Concept by @potatotato-26 and @sherllockholems

PS, please ignore the eyepatch Siffrin has in some arts.

This takes place BEFORE the rouge takes the L.

⚜⚜⚜

Don't worry about me.

Please, take care of Pure Vanilla Cookie.

In this place, your bravery and loyalty will become his best defense.

Thank you! My Light of Truth will illuminate our path so we don't lose our way.

Farewell, my friend...

These were the last words you could recall with clarity. A decision to diverge paths. A promise to meet again.

But that was before the smell of burnt sugar overwhelmed your senses and a tight squeeze gripped your stomach, your mind fading into darkness shortly afterwards.

Upon your (rough) awaking, it became clear that you were on a meadow. A strangely empty meadow. With nary a Cookie or creature in sight. Only the strands of (slightly larger?) grass billowing in the wind and clouds moving against the sky was proof this was no dream.

Add the lack of any familiar sightings made it clear: you were transported to someplace not in the Faerie Kingdom, nor even in Beast-Yeast. Perhaps a foreign country.

There may have been a touch of grumbling and/or screaming upon the realization of how far you (potentially) are from your friends. The irony of somehow falling into an enemy trap just as soon as you parted ways and promised to meet again is not one that amuses you. Still, you manage to pick yourself up with your staff (that thankfully still has your Soul Jam shining its ever-verdant light) and begin your trek in unknown territory. Regardless of circumstance, you still had a duty to fulfill.

As soon as you figure out where you were.

…

Time passes.

While you are unsure of how long you had been unconscious, you are now aware that it is at least a bit past midday, thanks to the sun’s slow descent. Not much, but at least it's a start. The same can’t be said for locating any signs of life. So far, attempts at finding any other Cookies have proven… fruitless. It’s… somewhat worrying that you may have been transported to a desolate island, but you brush the notion aside for now.

Grooowll…

After all, you still need to eat. You had a long day before and ahead of you.

Gathering food wasn’t as big of an issue as you’d thought it would be. You are grateful you still possess your survival skills from so long ago. What were edibles vs non-edibles was something you managed to figure out during your long treks across Earthbread, satiating your hunger for the moment. You sigh after managing to quell your stomach. The remaining issue of your parched throat would be solved after following the sound of flowing to a river nearby. Not before cleaning up after yourself, of course. Once more, you continue your trek in uncharted territory.

It’s strangely peaceful once you arrive at the stream… Besides the obvious, not a sound echoes through the dense forestry you find yourself in. You once more sigh, horns itching, still unsure if there was anyCookie available in this barren region. There has to be some sign of civilization. You’d even take Cake Hounds at this point…

“That’s enough of that,” you slightly chide to yourself. You need to drink. Recuperate and then continue forward. Find anyCookie that could give directions and continue from there.

Plan in mind, you dip your hands into the moving water, gently cupping the water to taste-test for anything wrong. It’s… tasteless? You don’t quite taste the amount of sugar as you’d expect… Or, any for that matter. But other than that, it seems safe? Maybe there really isn’t any-no, stop that. Drink. Your head is scrambled. Calm yourself. And drink.

As you shake off the looming dread and drink from the stream, you are finally given a chance to fully… reflect.

Looking back now, you realize this must have been orchestrated by the Beast to separate you from Pure Vanilla and the others. With a sigh, you admit the worst part is the fact it was true. 

Was the decision still necessary? Yes, absolutely. As much as it hurt parting so soon after being reunited… The responsibility and power entrusted to you by Elder Faerie Cookie’s last will… it was paramount in mastering. To seal the Beasts back in their trees. And of course, the Beast targeted that. You, the biggest threat to their return.

Now, here you are. Drinking out of a strangely tasteless stream. On a foreign island/country? Without a clue to get back, or master Elder Faerie Cooke’s power, or even tending to the Faerie Kingdom-oh Cheese, you’re in charge of the Kingdom now! And to make matters worse, there are still four other Beasts besides the one lurking at the Spire, with no way to contact anyo-

For a moment, you feel something grasp your body at both sides. Water you had been drinking splashes with a small plish as your thoughts are shaken.

The next, you suddenly find yourself being raised to the air.

And then-

《Wooah… qu’est-ce que tu es?》

HERE, TRY ONE! YOU'RE GONNA LOVE IT!

…face to face with the monster you neverneverneverever wanted to see again.

《Hé… une petite personne bizarre? Tu n’as pas l’air d’aller bien…》

You can’t speak. You can’t breathe. You can only stare. Ahead. Into the eyes of one you once worshiped as “Creator”.

Only for everything you once believed in to betray you, smothered in dough, and then baked into a monster.

Your head. Spins. Your horns. Itch. You hear something. But as you continue to float. In the face of your creator. Your vision blurs. You open your mouth once more to cry. And squeak with terror.

“Help.”

Your mind goes dark immediately after.

▲▲▲

Oh, Crab. It’s not moving anymore.

It’s not like you were trying to surprise them. But the nice smelling person/creature/Sadness(?) looked like it was gonna fall into the water, you managed to catch it. Then they went limp when you tried talking to it.

Maybe it’s like Nillie? Or Belle after a long day?

You hold the strange small person(?) in your hands as dela-cately as you can. You slightly shake them, but it doesn’t wake up. Guilt bubbles inside you. Crab…

You can’t just leave it here. It would be rude after what you did. You haven’t even said “sorry”! for spooking them.

You’ll definitely have to apologize to them properly when they wake up.

You take off your hat before gently placing them down on it, to safely carry them back to your camp. You also placed a strange looking flower stick that was near them in your hat. There was a strange shade to it, but maybe it belonged to them?

Anyways, you manage to make it back to camp, where everyone is waiting for you.

Za and Frin are together, gathering wood for the fire, and probably talking about (urgh) puns, like usual. 

Belle was sitting on the blanket, checking over those weird papers again.

Dile meanwhile was currently reading a book. Musta be for her secret research. 

Welp, no time like now.

“Heyguys…” you mumble, still worried over the little person in your hat. “I found something…” Everyone stops what they are doing and looks your way.

“Oh, Boniface you-?” Dile started. She stopped when she saw what you were carrying. “Oh-!” her eyes lit up a bit. Like when she was in that library a few towns back.

“Oh, Change-is it alright?” Belle asked. She walked over alarmed, cuz she’s naturally gonna be worried about everyone. Even strangers. That’s the sorta person she is. “What even happened?”

“I might’ve really scared them.” You bashfully admit. “They were gonna fall into the river, but I caught ‘em in time! But when I asked if they were okay, they just… stopped moving.”

“I see… they must have fainted then.” Belle mutters, looking down at the little person in your hat. “Poor thing.”

“Hey, Bonnie, did you find flowers?” Za suddenly asks. “Like… a lot of flowers?” Right, the nice smell that you followed.

“Oh yeah! It was coming from the little person.” You reveal, your eyes move down towards your little friend.

“Their right.” Belle sniffs, “It reminds me of… that flower shop back in Dormont.”

Oh Crab-”I’m sorry, Belle! I didn't mean to-”

She suddenly stops you. “It’s alright, Bonnie. I was just… reminiscing…” ugh, why she gotta be like that?

“Oh, Mira!” Frin suddenly pipes up. “I never knew you did flowers!” Uh-oh.

“No no, I nev-”

“I guess you're feeling BOUQUET right now?” HAH-HUrrrraaaggghhhhh…!

“FRIN!”/“Siffrin!”/“HAH!”/”Gah…”

“I’m sorry, Mira! You know lilac the ability to control myself.” Hrr…

“Stop.” you reply. As funny as it is, you gotta be more sere-us.

Frin thankfully puts his hand up. Looks like the puns shall stop. For now…

“Haaah, it’s alright now, Siffrin.” Belle suddenly sighs, “Still-” Okee, time to stop Belle being a crab.

“ALRIGHT-!” You suddenly announce. “Imma make dinner! For all of us!”

“By ‘all’, do you mean-” Dile begins.

“Yes. The little flower person too.” You answer. Then, you walk over to where your u-tin-sles are and then sit down, cross legged, hat and flower person in your lap.

“Uhh… Bonnie? What are you-?” Za stupidly asks.

“Making dinner.” You respond.

“You sure you can cook like that, Bonbon?” Frin also stupidly asks.

“Yes.” you boldly declare.

“Oh, just, do be careful not to harm your new friend!” Belle requests.

“Yes, it would be poor form to have a mess be their first real introduction to our party.” Dile added.

Yeah, that makes sense.

You carefully pick up your things, ready to get started. Hmm… Though, with your flower friend here… you hadn’t done anything with herbs since a few towns over. Ooh! Maybe make a desert too…

⚜⚜⚜

《…》

《…!》

《…?》

《…!!》

《…》

…?

…Noise…?

…You… stir…

“Mmhh…”

You… can hear something…

It is… dark…?

A trial to see… but…

And-

Towering giants. Scatter crumbs of fallen Cookies. Sound of laughter.

《HAHAHAHA!!》

WELL WELL WELL, IT'S BEEN A THOUSAND LONG YEARS!

GLAD TO SEE Y'ALL!

No…

《Allez, Mira! Tu dois admettre que c'était plutôt drôle!》

AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THESE! THEY LOOK AMAZING!

Y'ALL BEEN WORKING HARD!

Nononononononononononowhywhywhywhywhywhy-!

《Hmph! Peut-être pour vous, mais certains d'entre nous ont des «préférences» différentes.》

PHEW! I BAKED A TON OF COOKIES!

HERE, TRY ONE! YOU'RE GONNA LOVE IT!

Why are you back here?!

《Sigh… Je suis d'accord avec Mirabelle. Avez-vous déjà pensé à essayer de trouver d'autres méthodes d'humour?》

T'IS ALRIGHT! LET'S JUST BAKE IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!

At this- wretched banquet?!

《Hmmm… Non!》

YEAH, LET'S BAKE IT!

Run. You need to run. Run. RUN. RUN. RUN. WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING?!

《Hé Bonbon. Je pense que ton petit ami est-》

No.

NO!

YOU MADE A PROMISE. TO MEET THEM AGAIN. YOU WILL NOT BREAK IT. NOT AGAIN.

YOU RAISE YOUR HAND!

AND ENSNARE THE WITCH IN VINES!!!

You can barely make out what happens next-

Screaming, confusion, sounds and noises, all blend into one as your terror-stricken dough finally MOVES.

And you run. Run. RUN. RUN. AND RUN.

YOU CAN'T STAY HERE! YOU NEED TO TELL SOMEONE. YOU NEED TO-

barely manage to move your arm forward to soften your fall, barely aware that you were already falling.

…

You sit silently in the unexpected plant’s blessed shade.

And shudder heavily.

It still hurts.

Your head hurts.

Your horns. Hurt.

You grasp. Your. Horns.

Your head feels like a storm of hazy spices. That burning, suffocating feeling. Your vision feels blurry. Wet.

Oh. You’re… crying.

Of course.

You gasp. For air. Your throat is constricted by more of that foreign spice…

Why…?

Why are you crumbling again?

Even though you promised…?

Is all of this… just meant to be a reminder?

Of where you belong?

With your mistakes…?

You don’t- you can’t-!

《Salut.》 A gentle voice greets you.

“…!” A witch-!

Suddenly… 

lays down in front of you…

…?

《Désolé de vous avoir fait peur…》

…?

It’s… not moving…

You tremble and yet…

What do they…?

《Tu as laissé tomber ça.》

The witch’s hand is stretched out you need to ru-

And opens…

It's

It's your staff.

And your Soul Jam.

The witch… is looking away… 

Is it… giving you your staff back? Your… Soul Jam…?

…

…

…Why?

They never… never carried about Cookies before… And yet… this witch here… looking at you with sad, almost apologetic eyes?

You

breath.

And despite your instincts telling you, pleading you, to stay away, you… 

hesitantly…

reach for…

your…

staff!

A single swipe, and your White Lily Staff and Soul Jam are back in your hands…

In a deathgrip.

You breathe.

You stare at it for a moment. Your Soul Jam.

Despite everything, it is… still shining. That same, ever-verdant light. Even though… you shouldn’t even have it back… even though… you were no better than the Witches in terms of monstrousness… You…

《Hé. Tu ressembles à ce que fait Sif quand il est énervé. Est-ce que tu… veux respirer avec moi?》 And slowly, the Witch inhales air. And then, exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. 

Exhale.

In

Out.

In

Out.

You realize…

You’re doing it too.

Your head doesn’t hurt as much now…

Your horns still ache. But it's not as bad now.

《Tu as l'air plutôt sympa pour une Tristesse.》

…?

What did it say?

You don’t quite-

Wait.

You haven’t been able to understand?

No. You haven’t. At first, you thought it was merely fear clouding your dough, but… No, this isn’t just dialect. It’s a completely different language you’re hearing.

Why, though? Even at the Banquet, at the worst… you could still make it out clearly. You could never forget what those monsters said.

And yet… Why can’t you understand now?

《Hé. Est-ce que tu… as besoin de respirer à nouveau?》

You look at them, confusion clear in your eyes.

《Tu sais. Respirer?》 They start breathing slowly again. 

“Respirer”. Did they mean… breathing?

You slowly shake your head, hoping you’ve managed to say “no.”

《Oh. Alors, tu… vas bien maintenant?》

There’s a gentleness in that… you assume to be a “question”. Still, you think they're asking you if you're… alright?

Hah.

You’d certainly like to convey that you're fine. But after what you just did, you’d doubt anyone would believe you, let alone a Witch. So instead, you just… stare ahead once more.

《Oh. Pouvez-vous… ne pas parler?》 The witch asks, before pointing at their mouth to start… opening and closing?

…For the sake of your sanity, you go under the belief they are asking if you can talk.

Well, after all this time. You got what you wanted.

So.

You open your mouth.

And speak.

▲▲▲

«Yes. I… speak.»

The weird flower-smelling Sadness speaks. Or, you think it spoke. It's kinda… hard to explain. But you think it CAN talk. It just comes off as weird words you don’t really understand but somewho… do?

Crab this Sadness is weird.

Still, you sit by and let the strange Sadness speak to you. Even though you're not crabbin’ sure WHY. It… attacked Frin and everyone else. You even decided as the sole person NOT tied down by vines, you’d catch up to it to give it a piece of your mind! …But as you fixed your hat back on your head, you realized it forgot its little staff, and the jewel with the weird shade in it. For some reason, you ended up kinda feeling… bad for it. Which shouldn’t make any crabbin’ SENSE!!! But… then you caught up to it… seeing it like that…

Reminded you a bit of yourself… 

«I speak. Can you… understand?»

“No.” you admit. The Sadness’s face… kinda scrunched up at that. Kinda like Frin does when something bu-fuddles them. Or a cat when you give them bad tuna.

«…» It’s looking around now. It's still a bit like Mira does when she wants to bite her nails, but suddenly it starts drawing its staff on the floor. It looks like…

“?” «Do you… know this?»

A question mark? Sure, so you nod your head. The eyes of the Sadness seem to brighten at that. Then…

“? - >” Once the Sadness is done drawing, it goes back to looking at you. A question mark… and an arrow pointed right at itself. Which means… it wants to ask you what you think of it? 

“Didna say it already? You’re a Sadness! A weird Sadness though…” you respond.

«A “Tristesse”…?»

“Huh…? Uh, no not a ‘Trist-ease’… a Sadness! Like… WAH! WAH! Boohoo! My life’s a crab!” You suddenly pretend-bawl, startling the Sadness a little before another look appears on its face.

«Tears… Crying… », the Sadness starts. «Sorrow… S-Sadness…?» Yah, that's right.

“Mmh…!” you nod. “Sadnesses are like…” you begin to doodle on the ground. “That’s right. They uh… kinda weird smelly, nasty Crabs…! They usually just go around attacking people. Kinda like what you Crabbin’ did… but uh I don't think that you're THAT bad.” you reply, finishing your best depiction of a Sadness; a short, stubby creature leaking tears. The other Sadness is giving your doodle a funny look, before turning to look back at you with the same look.

«S-Smelly…?», it asks, and looks like it wants to cry a bit again. Maybe. You can’t really tell what’s going on with those weird Sadness eyes… Suddenly, you take whiff, and remember the scent that kick started this whole crabbin’ thing!

“Oh yeah! I came here cuz I was smelling something nice, like flowers! …And then I found you.” You explained, pointing to your nose and then to the Sadness’s flower to show you were (app-eren-tly) tracking down the Sadness’s scent. You still think it’s a little upset, though… “I mean… it’s a nice scent.” you finish, looking to the side for feeling a bit like a Crab.

«Sadness… M-Monster…? …Scent…? You-» Now the Sadness is looking at you with even bigger eyes than before, which is impressive, cuz those eyes are already big.

“Uh, yah. Kinda like what you did when you wrapped up everyone in vines…” You mutter. Dile was REALLY Crabbin’ mad when that happened. Even though it was Frin who got it worse… What even was that?”

«Dile…? Frin…?»

“Yah, my friends! Or uh… “aquin-tin-ces” as Dile’d put it sometimes.” You say, as you start a new drawing featuring all your friends.

«F-Friends…»

“Yep! There Dile, she’s doing “secret research” and loves reading books, then Belle, who’s pretty sweet and brave, but sometimes make herself worry over everything, and Isa, whose big and can be pretty stupid sometimes, but still nice, and then Frin, who loves to make stupid puns and carving and-” You stop when you realize the Sadness is breathing fast again.

And you see the Sadness looking at your doodle of Frin like something Crabbin’ wicked.

“U-um… are you okay?”

«W-Witch…» it seethes, «Why do you-that is a Witch…» Now it’s starting to draw its own Frin, only it looks way more bad-looking. Hey, you may not know the word, and they may annoy you, but you think that’s not nice!

“Hey! Frin’s not a “Weet-cha”! …whatever that is. Besides, what even is a ‘Weet-cha’?”

⚜⚜⚜

The sudden burst of anger that made your horns heat up simmers once you see the genuine confusion of the face of the Witc-... No, that’s… the fact they don’t even know- You’ve… managed to gain something of understanding with it/them? 

And you can tell.

They don’t know. Neither what a Witch is… or what you even are. Why else would they ignore wanting to snack on a Cookie like you? 

Monster… 

Still… you grumble a bit as the… whatever they are only caught you all because of your floral scent.

“So then… Why are you here?" You ask, gesturing best you can to their Witch and then the ground.

《Euh… pour ton truc de bâton de fleur… et je suppose que je suis désolé de t’avoir fait peur plus tôt aussi.》 The Witch is rubbing the back of their head. Those same apologetic eyes… 《Mais tu dois aussi t'excuser!》 Before suddenly snapping to you in a more upset tone.

You flinch, but try to stand your ground. They don't know what you actually are, so you, theoretically, should be fine… unless they somehow know a spell or two to throw at you. “W-what? What do you mean?” You state, trying not to show much agitation beyond the bare minimum in fear they may retaliate.

They start drawing lines on top of the picture of their party. Mostly over the Witch, but some on the others as well. It seems to resem- ah. 

They want you to apologize. For what you did to their party. You barely remember what you did besides summoning plant life to cover your tracks.

But…

That would mean…

Your horns twitch slightly.

《Hé, tu es SÛR de ne plus vouloir respirer?》 the same gentle, if loud voice, asks you once more.

…

You… decided to shake your head. Their expression turns someone miffed, and yet-

《Hé. Tu veux juste… rester ici un moment?》 They ask, landing back on the ground… and looking at you with softer eyes than before.

…You feel a soft wind blowing through the grass…

You nod a bit, and they seem to understand that.

Silence reigns for a good solid minute more.

《Hé. Qu'es-tu réellement??》

Before being finally broken by another innocuous question. One that sounds strangely familiar…

They are looking at you again. The same eyes you could find at Blueberry Academy. 

Curiosity.

They want to know what you are.

…

How do you even EXPLAIN that?

You… you CAN’T tell them the truth. You’ll be eaten up and forgotten about in no time. And yet… right now, they think you are some… monster-”a Sadness” of some kind. You don’t think you could-

…

“I… do not know.” you begin, lying for your teeth. “I awoke in a meadow not far from the river you found me.” You draw your story to the best of your abilities, ignoring the rancid feeling growing in your dough. “I… was wondering where I came from. And…” you pause, once more looking at their drawing of their Witch. Your horns once more begin to itch. “Before I realized what had happened… Something terrifying. Appeared in my memory. When I saw your W-“

《Frin n'est pas un «Weet-cha». C'est le euh… «Rouge»!》

“…«R-Rouge». I… recalled a terrible memory.” You darkly admit. “What I do remember… the “Witches”… hurt me…” You look again to your sketch of the Witch, only comparable to the “Rouge” with an animosity you wish was casted aside when you were re-baked. Ignoring whatever scathing look they were giving you.

Your horns begin to flare.

“I-I… I caused you great distress, have I not?” Crumbs, this is too painful. Just stay here and do your best to convince them. You just need to say ‘Go back and tell the others you are sorry.’

“And that’s why-”

*Rustle*

-!?

《Hein? Quoi-》

You barely have to hear the other’s words.

As a bizarre, gelatinous creature you almost are sure is from the Black Licorice Abyss suddenly rises from the bush behind you.

You raise your staff, the Soul Jam flairing to life as you once more summon plant life to entangle it-

And you feel yourself swept off your feet once more. Ignoring the pain-filled screams and sobs as you are whisked away in a blur.

▲▲▲

Crabcrabcrabincrab!!! A big-Crabbin’ Sadness Crabbin’ jumped you and your Sadness. Crab this! You gotta go! 

You manage to snatch the smaller fella into your arms and attempt to bolt-

Woah Crab!

A crabbin’ shade you’ve never seen before suddenly blasts out of the little fella’s flower gem thingy and the bigger Saddness screams something fierce. Your brainhead feels the same way! Then, vines suddenly pop out of the ground and slam down on the bigger Sadness, pinning it in place. That’s gotta hurt, but you sure ain’t gonna complain about it!

“CRAB, lil’ fella!” You loudly yell as you scurry FAR away from the way uglier Sadness, “That was awesome!”

«…»  You realize the flower fella isn’t saying much. When you lift them up again to your face, you see them just staring at you. Whoops!

“Ah Crab! I-I’m sorry for surprise touching you agai-”

You suddenly feel something touch your cheek. Wah? It's the flower Sadness. It's looking at you with a blank look you remember Frin having sometimes…

“Hey, don’t-”

Before smiling suddenly. And then crying as well. 

…This is a REALLY Crabbin’ weird Sadness…

“Uhh… do you… wanna cry some more?” You ask, only somewhat miffed cuz of what’s going on.

The Sadness shakes their head, and still sobs a ‘eally strange sounding laugh. Eventually though, the sobs stop, and is now looking at you again  ‘cept the eyes are still leaking.

«Why did you… save me?» You think it asked.

“Uh, cuz I didn’t wanna leave you behind?” You bluntly state, now walking back to camp. “‘Sides, you still gotta apologize to Frin and the others!”

The Sadness flinches at that. You suddenly recall what they said about “Weet-chas”. Crab.

“Heyhey. Don’t fret. None of them’ll bite!” you comfort them.

You’re not sure if the noise it made to that was a laugh or a sob.

— — —

Eventually, you manage to make it back to camp before the sun set. Crab, it’s almost as bad as you left it. Belle and Dile were standing near the now torn-up picnic blanket, talking, while Za and Frin…

“Alrighty, Sif. Next one’s coming right off! Just give me a sec…” You heard Za, for once really struggling, to get a vine off.

“Mrph…” muffled Frin. Yep. They were still as tied up as you left them. They were much less of a rogue now and more of an… what did Nelle say one time? “Tray-lis”? Yeah, tray-lis than person. 

“I still can’t believe that Sadness managed to do… all this.” you hear Belle say, looking at all the devy-station the flower fella caused to their campsite.

Though in fairness, it was mainly the picnic blanket and Frin.

“I suppose we should be thankful then, that our dearest Rogue managed to take the brunt of its attack.” Dile responded.

“Hghnhbmph…” Frin muttered something in response. You're not sure what.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, Sif.” Za started, still struggling to pry off the vine. “I’m sure Madame Odile is only wishing you the best. Even if she won’t say it outright.” he said with a glance towards Dile.

“How presumptuous of you to think I don’t care, dearest Isabeau.” Dile scoffed.

“Brbrgnmhmshg! Basjiashsudh!” Frin suddenly muffled-yelled!

“...I am not sure if that was meant to be one of your puns-”

“MRPHMR-MRPH! MMRR!!” Frin continued, (struggled to) point towards the clearing. And more importantly, towards you.

“BONNIE!”/”BONIFACE!”/”KIDDO!”

Everyone drops what they’re doing and runs towards you. Cept for Frin. Welp. This was gonna be awkward…

“Heyguys…” you start. Again.

“Bonnie! Thank Change you’re alright!” Belle ran up to you like usual. She checked to see if you needed any healing, which you don’t!

“Itsfine…” You mumbled. But as you get ready to explain, Dile suddenly walked up, Belle moving aside. With her “angry” look on her face.

“Boniface. Would you like to explain to us WHERE exactly you ran off to when that Sadness suddenly upended the earth and attacked our campsite?” She REALLY must not be happy with you. 

“Hey, c’mon Madame Odile. I’m sure Bonnie has a PERFECTLY REASONABLE explanation as to why they disappeared on us.” Za said, giving his own fearsome stare of his own. Guh, they ALL gotta worry like this?! It’s not fair! You didn’t even get a chance to explain yourself! 

…even if the story’s SUPER weird…

“It’s a really weird story, Za.” You tell him. “And YOU prolly wouldn’t bell-ie-ve me without eve-dance!” You counter Dile’s question.

“Oh?” Dile raised her eyebrow. “And WHAT perchance would THAT ‘evidence’ be?” The till-tale sign of whenever she’s doubting. But THIS time, you’re prepared! You’ve got eve-dance right on the palm of your hand!

Or, well, under your hat.

“BONNIE!/BONIFACE!!/THE CRAB???” You suddenly hear them all yell. Huh? Whaddya do?

“Hey, wait a-”

“Bonnie, stay VERY still! T-The Sadness is currently ON TOP YOUR HEAD.” Belle squeaks as she suddenly has her hand out, aimed at your flower fella.

“Yeah, bu-”

“Boniface.” Dile’s cold words stop you as she’s looking at you with dead eyes before she starts massaging her eyes with her free hand. “Please do not tell us you spent your time trying to track down a previously unseen, and potentially DANGEROUS Sadness. And then brought them back here. WHY???”

“‘Cuz they wanna say ‘sorry’.”

“What./W-Wha???”/“Pardon, ‘Sorry???’” They all ask, before Za steps up..

“Bonnie, I’m…” Za starts, putting a shoulder on Dile to push her to the side, “not sure WHAT could have happened, but-”

«It-»  The flower Sadness fella starts. Za naturally shuts up. “It’s. Alright,” another soft voice rings out. Wha? Who was that? You look around but-

“Ahem.”

Everyone is looking at your head. But that could mean…

IT WAS THE FLOWER FELLA??? THEY CAN SPEAK?!

The voice is actually kinda pretty though…

“You can speak people now?!” You ask your flower Sadness fella as you gently pick them up and bring them to your face.

“Not… good… learning…” they say, shaking. Oh. Makes sense. You nod.

Everyone else is still looking at the Sadness. Za looks like when Frin does something Crab worthy, cept without the blushing. Belle is tilting to the side and looks like she wanna faint. And Dile… has this WEIRD look that you think is her angry look… and that wonder-ized look when she first saw the flower fella.

“...What ARE you.” Dile asked. Weird, since it didn't FEEL like a question. She still looked ready to attack it.

«I-» they cough, “I. Not. Know.”

“You… don’t know?” Belle suddenly asks. Dile snapped towards her.

“Yah! They said that, that they woke up with no clue!” you chime in.

“M-mmh… Fa- «It-» Va-egg-ly… ree-mem-ber.” The flower fella stuttered out.

Belle looked less stressed out, but still worrying-kind. Za’s mouth was a great big O. Dile… still looked like she wanted to fight it, but now looking even unsure of that. Frin… was still stink-eye looking at it. Which isn’t fair. This flower fella’s like, super cool!

“Mmm. Also, everything’s Frin’s fault!”

“MHRPHAYG HMAHPNYAH???” Frin muddle-sputters under the vines. The flower fella flinches a bit from that.

“Uhhh… and HOW exactly is it Sif’s fault???” Za asked, trying to get to it before Dile lost her temper.

“Weet-chas.” You state.

…

“W-Weet-chas?” Dile asks, her face now looking dumb. Wow, that’s rare.

“W-W-Weet-chas.” the flower fella repeats, looking at Frin with a bit of the same look it gave your doodle. Frin looks back-and seems to give a similar look. Huh, wonder what that's about.

“Oh-OH!” Belle suddenly jumps, now looking at the fella like she would at you when you’d be ‘in trouble’ (which you usually AREN’T) “I-I see, uh… Mmm, how do-”

“Sh-she/he-ur” She reveals. Huh.

“I see. Ms. Sadness. Uhm… I am fairly certain our friend Siffrin is very much NOT a ‘Weet-cha’ like you assumed.” Belle explained.

“I. Made aware.” she states with a nod. Belle is now looking at you.

“Ah.” she realizes. “Well then. Is there a REASON why you attacked us at least.”

«Wit-» “Weet-chas… But I-” flower fella stutters a bit, still looking weirdly at Frin, before gulping and “S-Sorree…” ap-pollo-gizes as her eyes soften a bit.

Everyone but Frin (Dile too, but not as much) soften at that.

“… I see…” Belle starts, gives her trademark smile (it looked a little weird)! “Well then… thank you for apologizing, Ms. Sadness!” Yes, Belle.

“Yes, apology accepted.” Dile starts, looking at the flower fella darkly. “Now, might you kindly leave?” No, Dile!

“But Dile-!”

“It’s a shattering SADNESS Boniface!” Dile starts, looking at you with a hard look. “Not an animal that can be trained. Even IF it somehow managed to gain the ability to speak coherently, do not forget…” She turns her head back towards the blanket and Frin, and your fella is already looking pained. No fair!

“But she was really nice! We talked and even did that breathing thing Frin does sometimes!” You counter. Frin’s eyes seem to grow wide at that.

“You… ‘talked’? Is that how they learned to speak?” Dile asks.

“Naw, it had its own voice! Weird to hear, but I could also understand!” you respond.

“…Has there EVER been cases of Sadnesses… talking…?” Za asks.

Dile looks weird again for a moment. The flower Sadness looks just as bad. “Yes. But only in cases where it merely repeated words spoken by their victims. There are no records of a Sadness… out right speaking in ‘its own language’… completely unheard of.” Dile finishes. But this might be your chance!

“So? That means she’s pretty cool and MAYBE we could keep her!” You say. Your flower fella looks at you weirdly, but you're not sure why. You're arguing for them to stay! 

“Boniface-” Dile starts.

“Plus she saved ME from another Sadness! AND I saved her back! She even cried when I saved her!” you finish off.

… there's suddenly a whole lotta silence again. Everyone’s looking at the flower fella again.

“I’m sorry. You… ran into ANOTHER Sadness??” Belle askes, her face looking MEGA worried.

“Mmh! Flower fella saved me. Even though I didn’t need it. And I saved her as well! Also touched my face and started crying, but that’s prolly a Sadness thing.”

There’s another look that everyone was giving the flower fella. It’s… weird. Belle keeps looking at the flower fella with a shocked expression, meanwhile Frin is looking at you with an even dumber face than usual. Za however…

“M’dame… maybe we should all just… cool off a bit, no? MAYBE we scared her more than we thought. Just…” he trails off, before he and Dile turn to the flower fella. “Hey, uhm, flower Sadness?” Za asks.

«-?!» She jumps a bit. She's been quiet while you and Dile been arguing. “Y-yes…?”

“Are you gonna hurt us again if we let you stay?” Za bluntly asks.

“No.” She says, very zari-us. “I. S-Sorree.” she again apologized, before immediately clamming up. You think she wanted to say more, but you weren’t sure why. 

Za gives Dile a look.

Dile looks on -stares more like- at the flower fella. You're not sure what she's gonna do, but you try and be tough, just like the flower fella. But then Dile FINALLY puts her book down. Yes!

“…I don’t like this…” Dile sighs, before massaging her head, “But I would be remiss if I didn't at least act more cordially than before. For my previous behavior at least… I apologize. But I still believe this should be a vote.” Oh, like that eh?

“Hmm… I suppose that would be fair… she DID save Bonnie after all…” Belle mutters.

“Sure. Fairest way to decide things!” Za speaks, giving a thumbs up for good measure.

“Mmrrr…” you hear Frin groan. The flower fella looks at them all weird-like again.

“Yes. Fair.” The flower fella Sadness finally responds, nodding her head, but still watching Frin.

“Alright!” you raise your fist in the sky.

“Fine,” Dile sighs again, “All those in favor of her staying, for at least until the next town, say ‘aye’.���

“I!” you say.

“...Well, you DID save Bonnie. That makes you alright in my book, for now at least. Aye!” Za agrees.

“…” Belle didn’t say anything. But her hands were close to her mouth.

“Mirabelle, nails.” Dile reminded.

Belle looks at her hands before bringing them back down. “I-I’m sorry. I think I need more time.”

“All those in favor of having her leave, say ‘aye’.” she declared as she raised her own hand. Crab.

“Mrpmrgnyag…” mumbled Frin, the traitor, as they failed to lift their hand. So they settled to just move a lot while opening their hand instead.

“It appears we are tied.” Dile glumly noted. She turned to Belle, who still looked nervous at everything going on. “Mirabelle. My apologies for this, but we’ll need a tie breaker.”

Belle was looking a little more unhappy. Maybe a little stressed. “I-I am t-terribly sorry. Change, I’m not sure…” You suddenly feel like a crab, forcing Belle into this. And you're pretty sure everyone else was feelin’ it as well. Even Frin, who was angry staring at the flower fella Sadness, was looking at Belle with worry as well. She eventually turns to you, lookin’ ready to cry. “Please- don’t take this the wrong-”

«It’ll be alright.» Belle stops, and everyone sees the flower fella had walked up to Belle and placed a hand on her ankle. She looks up at her with those same big eyes before opening up her mouth. “E-fen if. Cannut stey. Hap-pi. Ye-ur fry-end. Saefe.” She mutters. 

The flower fella then starts walkin’ over to where the traitor, Frin is. She suddenly raised her staff again, causing everyone to jump, ‘cept traitorfrin, who was giving her a more worried look. But rather than do anything, the vines suddenly pulled back… except for a few that had clamped over his mouth. Hah!

“Mrypap!?!?” muffles traitorfrin, who fell back and tried to get the vine on their mouth off. And failing, since they didn't seem budging. The flower Sadness seemed confused about that… till Za suddenly yelled “Crab”!

“Ah, Crab!”

Ye, like that.

“I uh… tried slicing the vines off with Sif’s knife…” Za began, rubbin’ the back of his head “Turns out they had a strong death grip. Who knew?” He gave a shaky smile to the flower fella, who was staring at him like he was stupid. ‘Cuz he was.

“…Riveting.” Dile sighed, clearly ex-asp-erated by all of this.

Another sigh came from Belle as everyone turned to her. She was staring at Frin before turning to the flower fella. Now she seemed less stressed. “I… am happy that you saved our friend, Bonnie. I truly am grateful. I just…”

“You. shrug-giled.” the flower fella said. You think she was trying to offer Mira her simpa-fees. “Be. per-oud. Maa-nee fry-inds…” Kay, She was starting to walk past you. NOW you’re starting to feel worried again.

“H-hey, wait! You serious gonna jus-”

“Please. Wait a moment.” Belle spoke up again. Flower fella stopped walking away and was glancing back at her. You could see Belle didn’t look as stressed as before. Well, she still looked seri-us, but a little bit better than before. 

Without realizing, you’ve gulped loudly. The fate of the flower fella lies in Belle’s hands!

You just hope it’ll be the RIGHT decision. 

⚜⚜⚜

You stare ahead at the giant before. This individual you believe the smaller giant called “Belle”. A pointless apprehension grew inside your dough as you prepare to leave. You ARE thankful that you’ve managed to gain… a rather basic understanding of the current language in the short time you’ve spoken with them And saved you despite your cruel act. But even so, you listen to what the giant with a cape will decide upon And try not to think about your breakdown.

《Euh… pour ton truc de bâton de fleur… et je suppose que je suis désolé de t’avoir fait peur plus tôt aussi./…[***] before, you saved [***] friend Bon[***]. So we ARE than[***] for [***] that.》 “Friend”. They truly did care for one another, didn’t they? And despite your own reservations over all that happened, the idea of just letting someone get hurt… You’d rather have let yourself crumble! Still-

《Cependant,/However,》 they sharply add, and you think you’ve flinched as your thoughts are shaken. Despite the seemingly fragility she initially possessed, you think they were simply overwhelmed. 

You can relate.

《Vous avez également attaqué notre camp et attaché Siffrin./[***]tacked our ca[***] tied [***] Siffrin.》

“Siffrin”

The name of the seeming Witch.

Despite your own reservations, they cared for them. So it was only fair of you to fix your mistake.

《Alors… je pense… que tu peux te rattraper. Je suis d’accord pour que tu restes./So… [***] you can make up [***]. I-I’ll agree [***] staying.》 They’re raising their hand. 《B-but only if you REALLY wish to change! I think it would be best. Everyone?》

Wait. What?

The more well built giant was smiling. 《Mhh… mon vote n'a pas changé, et tu as raison ! Enfin, quelle est la probabilité qu'on ait un membre du parti qui PARLER DE LA TRISTESSE?!/Mhh… my vote hasn’t [***], and you make a good [***]! I mean, [***] it that we [**] TALKING SADNESS as a party [***]?!》

They’re… letting you stay?

The thinner giant was grimacing, before turning to the Witch, 《…Eh bien, il est trois heures moins deux. Toutes mes excuses, Siffrin, mais il semble que notre petite Tristesse va perdurer un moment./…Well, it’s [***]. Apologizes, Siffrin, [***] little Sadness is staying [***] while.》

Despite what you did?

The Witch could only 《Mfph…》

You can't quite put it into words right now how you feel Besides your new size and closeness to Creators and just let the commotion play out before you.

You hardly remember the rest besides wetness, noises, and a warm touch. But by the time you fully regain your senses, you are currently resting in a blanket next to the smaller giant a child named Bonnie.

《Hé./Hey.》

Speaking off.

《Je sais que c'est bizarre. Mais j'aimerais te demander quelque chose. Tu as un nom?/I know [***] weird. [***] wanna ask somethin'. You have a name?》

A… name? You…

You shake your head, needing to uphold the lie Disgusting.

《/Oh. That sucks.》

You snort without humor. 《Why?》

《Parce que je t'appelle «mon pote aux fleurs». Mais ça ne me va pas. Alors… tu veux me donner un nom?/Cuz I’ve just [***] ya “flower [***]”. But it don’t feels [***]. So… do you [***] name?》

A name.

A chance.

…

You are a liar. You are determined. You are a failure. You are a survivor. You are a healer. You are a monster. You are a hero. You are a cookie.

You are…

《Lily… My name… Is Lily.》 You manage to say, feeling only a slight amount of release from this lie.

The child/giant smiled. A toothy smile. You could see they were missing a tooth.

《«Lily»… Ok. Bonne nuit, Lily!/‘Lily’… Okay. Night, Lily!》 They said, before closing their eyes and finally resting.

You look back to the sky.

Maybe… this is why you came?

To help these giants with their task?

Well. They trust you. Because you made them.

Hah. Pure Vanilla would be disgusted with you.

Stop thinking like that. One step at a time, White Lily Cookie. You’ll find your way back. You have to. For them.

At least the stars look beautiful tonight…

⚜▲⚜▲⚜▲

Hey everyone. If you reached the end of this, I just wanna say "Thank You". Because this is my first real published fanfic. It was just a weird idea I had when I saw some artwork for how White Lily would meet the party, and Tato had been kind enough to draw up new art scenes for the work.

Anyways, hope you guys like this I really put as much effort into this as I could over a couple weeks. And give a big round of applies to @potatotato-26 and @sherllockholems sparking all of this.

[guttednights]

Bonnie

As he opens the door to his flat, he's surprised when you don't come running to him with that pretty smile of yours. Not today, weird. He takes his boots off, breathes in the home smell, and takes off his jacket.

"Bonnie?.."

"Lovie?" no answer.

he walks to your office knocking and opening it to see an empty quiet dark office. must be upstairs, the bathroom? nope. has to be in the bedroom.

He quietly opens the door and finds you asleep in his shirt cuddling with his hoodie. He chuckles and quietly shuts the door and kisses your head. you deeply breathe in and open your eyes slowly before realizing it's your soap. "Baby!" you say quietly as he picks you up, kissing you with passion.

"hi lovie, didya miss me?"

"mhm!" you nod quickly, quickly taking in his smell. Sure he sprayed his hoodie with way too much cologne but it's not the same as his raw scent.

He kisses your neck, "My no panties eh?"

"you know exactly how to welcome me home"

He sets you down on your back on the bed, kissing your neck. your legs quickly wrap around his waist.

"no bra either?" he chuckles, "you tease."

you cant help but smile as he lifts his shirt of your pretty body. His hands exploring every part of your body as his lips are attached to your neck.

"god bonnie" "i missed ye pretty body so much"

His hands squeeze your tits and pinch your nipples as you squirm under him. He smirks and loves the way your body feels in his hands.

Quickly he kisses down your body till at your pussy. "ye soaked for me, Bonnie."

"she missed me too eh?" he said as licking ur sensitive clit.

it's not long before he got your face in the pillow and ass in the air. Hands gripped so tightly on you as he thrusts deeply in and out. "Jesus bonnie, ye so tight."

his grunts are deep and filled with lust as he pulls ur hair. you can feel your climax building and your moans fill the dark light room. his thick girth filling you to the max tearing you up. finally, with a few more deep thrusts you're coming.

"atta girl, coming on me"

his thrust becomes erratic and less strict as he builds to his climax.

"squeezing me so tight Bonnie"

"gonna have to go all night to get ye opened up for me again ye?" he chuckles. you both know he could and will fuck u all night.

before you know he's pumping that thick white cream you love deep inside you, pulling out slapping the tip on your clit then flipping you over to lick the cum that spills out your hot pussy.

after another hour of him making you come you both lay down. he's quick to bring you close arms wrapped around your waist to cuddle you. kissing your back and neck. "mhome Bonnie" "missed ye and ye pretty cunt so much"

side notes : idk just a johnny drabble. absolutely love johnny so why not bless yall with some straight up nasty smut <3 (btw johnny, soap and price def have a breeding kink, argue with the wall.)

[yeyinde]

Seen your layla frost mention - any good dark romance books you would recommend? 👀

oh, absolutely!!! though, fair warning - my ideal dr is a horror/thriller moonlighting as a romance so! def read the warnings.

Little Dove by Layla Frost. Maximo, honestly, is my ideal mmc. cold, collected, cunning, unflappable, with a cruel and sadistic side (but never directed toward the the fmc), and wholly devoted to Juliet on a level that would probably land him in jail irl

Then, Earth Swallowed Ocean (book 1) by Shiloh Sloane

"Southern Gothic Werewolves Fight the Devil" that's it. this is the book for me. Shiloh Sloane is my favourite author. genuinely, truly. i love her writing, i love her characters. i love her for her tiktok bio alone: I write love stories whose trailers would have Ethel Cain music in ‘em. obsessed with her. i stalk her daily on insta and tiktok. but the book: it's more horror erotica than DR, but to be totally honest, this is so far up my alley, it was practically written for me. werewolves, the devil, smut, an INSANE mmc (obsessed, mean, possessive), a strong fmc, and it's set in post WW2 Appalachia. instant fave. when i die, bury me with this book.

Cracked Blue Sky (book 2) by Shiloh Sloane

features a native fmc and i know Shiloh Sloane is white, but how she shapes Howie Black Elk was pretty realistic. i loved how much she reminded me of a few cousins, aunties. love this book!!

Snuff by Bonny Capps

dark horror erotica that you absolutely should heed the warnings to. i loved it. 5*. but it does end up on several dnf lists for being brutal and disgusting. fmc goes to Russia to discover her roots, is taken by the Bratva to feature in their "passion projects" (snuff films!), but the mmc decides he wants her all to himself. if you're queasy about totally irredeemable mmcs (sadistic, vile, possessive, obsessed, cruel), then this probably is not for you, but lucky for me, i'm into that. def on my "i couldn't look my therapist in the eye for a while" collection, though.

Lemonade by Nina Pennacchi. mmc is irredeemable (cruel, vile, obsessed). historical romance (Victorian). also on the collection. Little Mouse by Emily Rose. mafia. age gap. A Stone's Throw by Stevie Sparks. age gap (dad's best friend. Scottish hero. auction. weird rich people doing weird rich people shit. God Of Vengeance by Michelle Heard. age gap. mafia. found family. i re-read the bound series this week and my favourites are Bound by Vengeance (Growl and Cora), Bound by Duty (Dante and Valentina), and Twisted Pride (Remo and Serafina). anything by Lilith Vincent. Brutal Husband is dropping in October and i cannot wait. The Devil's Vice by Mindy Paige. trauma bonding. motorcycle gang. age gap. Little Stranger by Leigh Rivers. revenge (fmc sends mmc to prison and he gets out and comes for her). insane mmc. Spectre by Shiloh Walker. kidnapping. violence. neuro-atypical fmc. Slashed by Thalia Sanchez. fmc wants to become a Final Girl. Slasher!mmc gives her just that.

also, not a romance but if you're into dark books with compelling characters, Break Her by BG Harlen was sooo good!!!! the premise is that a professional rapist is sent to break the fmc and it's such a good psychological thriller. def not for everyone though. A Beautiful Evil by Eris Belmont has no HEA but a very brutal and malicious mml. God's Eye by Ansa Reads is brutal. loved it, dgmw. but it's def not for the faint of heart.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Spurs and Chaps

𖤐Pairing: Bounty Hunter! König x Outlaw! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, fluff, language, old friend to lovers, enemies to lovers, mention of violence, guns, P in V, age gap, groping, nipple play, badass Y/n, kissing/making out,

𖤐Summary: König the bounty hunter had to bring in outlaw Y/n but does he really have to bring her in?

————

————

"Little lady you must have me as a fool?"

"No, sir."

Y/n puts the tip of her heel into the dirt as she flirts with the man in front of her. She just wanted one thing from this man, his money.

"Oh yes!"

"Fuck," loud moans filled the room, the man trying to keep his pants up as he has Y/n pinned to the wall behind her, he bucks his hips up into her, she moans, gripping his hair and kissing his lips.

They both fell on the soft bed behind the man, Y/n undressing herself, her holster on her thigh containing her pistol, she kisses down his chest to his stomach, one hand guiding down and then other resting on her gun.

He looks down at her and sees her hand on her gun.

"Hey, wait a min-" before he could speak another word, he was shot with a lead bullet between his eyes.

"Fucking disgusting," she says, getting off the guy and grabbing her skirt and dirty tank top, she digs around for his sack of gold and soon found it, she smiles and sticks it inside her shirt. She finds her boots and her long black leather coat, she heads out of the whore house and grabs her hat on the way out.

"Another one bites the dust," she says, opening the satchel on her horse's side sticking the gold sack into with all the others. She starts to sum as she gets on the back of her horse. She clicks her tongue and starts walking out of the bum rusted town.

She was acting cool and collected as if she say didn't just kill someone and robbed them.

----------

"Heard she's in Rosewood...you might want to check there...König."

"Tell me again...who am I after?"

"Her name is Y/n L/n, her bounty the highest I've ever seen, even for a woman, $790,000, not even Bonnie's bounty was this high. Was raised by her father who turned out to be Good Old Cyrus L/n, robbed the whole North City blind, was caught and rotted away in prison. Y/n was taken to an orphanage where she raised herself to become an outlaw, it started off as candy stealing then soon made it's way up from pick pocketing, now, she kills then takes." The Sheriff says.

"Sir, her last slighting was in Rosewood, now she's being on the move," his deputy says.

"Well, then, I guess you better get moving, Bounty Hunter."

"I'll see you when I have her."

"If we see you again," the Sheriff says.

König loaded up his horse, clicked his tongue and went South to Rosewood hoping he'll run into Y/n.

---------

It's been a few days, and Y/n has settled into a small town called Winslow, it was like her little hideaway, everyone knows who she is, but no one will ever give her away to the Sheriff and his Deputies.

Y/n sits on the back porch of her little home, she was in some jean shorts, and small white tank top that showed off her hardened nipples and her black boots.

Y/n was cleaning her old clothes she worn, she goes back into her lovely home and she grabs some whiskey from her top cabinet and opened the bottle, chugging some of it. Heading back outside to hang the rest of the clothes.

"Y/n..." She stops what she is doing and turns to see.

"König? How's the Bounty Hunting going?" She asked, knowing he's after her.

"Oh you know...I'm here for a little someone," he says.

"Me?" She says, her back turned to him.

"It's been a while, I just wanted to...catch up with you before, I take you to the Sheriff."

"How? Hmm? What could you have in mind, Bounty Hunter," she giggles at him, she stood up to face him, he looks down at her getting a view of her chest.

"You're a tease, just like I remember," he says, putting his hand on her cheek.

König and Y/n were old friends, even though they grew up differently, Y/n was taught to steal and be a bad person and König was taught to be a good guy. Growing up differently but still how became friends. They don't even know how it happened, and when they got older König picked up being a bounty hunter and Y/n was on the run from law enforcement.

Now did König and Y/n have some sort of relationship? Yes. Again they don't know how it happened, it was just a simple one night that turned into 3, then 4, next they they knew it 5, but it had to stop, it would look bad for a bounty hunter to be sleeping with a bounty.

It would ruin König's reputation.

"Did you take the job because of the money or to see me, again?" She asked him.

"I guess the money...I didn't know I was going after you till I was called in to help."

"Called in? You mean, you didn't see my WANTED paper? The Sheriff called you in?"

"Yeah. He asked for...the best of the best," he says.

"I see," she says, she walks past him, her hand sliding on his chest as she was heading inside. "If you want...you can come inside, König."

he smirks and follows her inside the house. She kicked her boots off at the back door.

"Take your shoes off, I don't want dirt tracked through my house."

"Since when did you ever care about the dirt?"

"Since I've lived here, I love my home, and want it clean and nice and neat," she says.

"But you kill for fun."

"And I can keep my personal life out of my work life."

"Killing is work?"

"Yep," she then turns to him. "Tea?"

"Water is fine," he says.

Y/n gave him some water and then watched him chug it, she smirks up at him, she bends down and kisses his chest down to his stomach, lifting his shirt and kissed his toned stomach.

"Liebe (love)."

"Do you think, I'll ruin your reputation?" she asks, looking up at him, he cups her chin.

"You know you will," he says.

"Good," she says, standing up and kissing his lips. She then pulls down his mask, "There's that face, I've missed...I could ruin you so easily," she teased.

"You ruining me? Doubt it," he chuckles.

König picks her up and slams her back to her wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, she then kisses his neck, he groans, he plops on her messy couch.

König then removes his jacket, and removes his shirt, he then tries to unbuckle his pants, but Y/n ends up helping him. Pulling his pants down and taking them off him, she kisses his bulge, he groans, cupping her chin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he says, leaning down kissing her temple, she moves back to laying on top of him.

"I've missed you too," she says, kissing his lips.

His hands roamed over her body. She then sits up and starts removing her clothes, König then helps her removing her tank top and kissed between her breasts. Kissing her breast and licking at her bud.

She moans, holding his head and playing with his hair, and kissing the top of his head. König then messes with her shorts pulling them off.

König pumps himself a few times, before sliding himself into her. She put her head back moaning his name and squeezing around him, he puts his hands on her waist, she starts rocking back and forth, König smirks, the sex was nice, and soft. It's suppose to be meaningless sex, but it's hard when König still loves Y/n.

Y/n looks down him, leaning over him, moving her hair on one side of head and then kissing his lips. She then starts moving a bit faster.

"No, no, keep going slow, take your time, don't rush anything," he says.

"It's just been so long."

"I know," he cups her face and starts kissing her face, then under her chin and then her lips again.

Y/n looks down at him, he slowly starts to sit up, holding her close to his body, as he bucks his hips up but she started to do the work again, bouncing up and down on him.

"God, you feel so good," König says. He loves feeling her gummy walls holding his cock inside of her.

"You do too," she moans, putting her head back. His hands then start going up her chest and squeezing her chest and playing with her nipples. She moans and looks at him.

"Are you g-going to turn me in?" She asked.

"Do you want me to turn you in?"

"No...I want you to myself, I don't want to be in jail," she moans.

"Aww~" he teases her.

Y/n then could feel herself about to cum, König smirks as cum shoots up into Y/n. Y/n smirks and then bounces a bit more and felt herself squirt on his lower stomach.

He smirks, chuckles a bit, Y/n then leans forward and then kissed his lips.

----------

König laid naked on Y/n's bed, Y/n next to him, he could turn her in so easily, but he can't do that to her. König looks over at her and moves her hair from her face.

"You can go if you want to," she says.

"No...not yet...I want to be here with you," he says.

"You can leave."

"No, not yet," he says, moving closer to her and holding her to his chest.

König kisses her forehead and kissed her lips, he holds her close and moves her hair from her face.

-----------

König was on his horse, looking at the house being light up by small lamps, he was leaving for the night, he doesn't know if he'll come back and see her again, but he wonders if he should put a small hold on bounty hunting and come live with Y/n for a little while.

He travels back to West Dale to see the Sheriff and tell him the news.

That he could not find Y/n.

Y/n woke up to no one next to her, she pats the cold empty spot next to her and thought about König, he's been gone for...so many years and now he came back to have sex with her and left, he didn't bring her in, so did he care about her?

----------

It's been weeks now. Y/n was on her front porch, she was doing some house work, putting up nice plants, around the house.

"Need any help?" Y/n stops and turns to the man's voice.

"König?"

"Have you done any killing lately?" He chuckles.

"Never," she teased.

"Could you help me with the other hanging plants?"

"Sure, liebe (love)."

[daandyli0n]

so...gave myself an art challenge.

what was that challenge, you may ask? simple(?):

create designs for the MCI that are Canon Accurate (as in Only Really using design elements that can either be Canonically traced back to the child in question, or can Reasonably be traced back to the child in question). but there's a catch:

I Also Wanted To Make Them 80s Accurate As Well. as in stuff like clothing, hairstyles, and accessories have to be accurate to the time period.

for me, i would place the importance of canon evidence in the order below:

Game Design (only really applies to Susie and mildly to Gabriel) > ORIGINAL Novels > Graphic Novels > Fazbear Frights Books (only really applies to Susie) > Movie

so for example, i take design elements mentioned in the novels as being more important than, say, the movie.

so here they are!! explanations below the art :]

(small warning for eye contact with Cassidy's image)

Susie: we have her canonical appearance in the game, the OG novels, and the Graphic Novels...but we also have her appearance in "Coming Home," which seems rather different. so i thought...why not combine them together? make it that she has blonde hair that borders on light brown, and give her (partial/sectoral) heterochromia? her hairstyle and dress were changed a bit because. technically speaking they were 80s accurate, but they kinda seemed...formal? like, not exactly the kind of clothes i'd see a six year old casually wearing to a Chuck E Cheese type of place, y'know? especially considering that in "Coming Home," Susie is described as having a much more casual outfit. so i gave her hair that was still curly/wavy but was like. a more common hairstyle, and a dress that seemed more casual, more like you'd see a six year old running around in in the 80s.

Fritz: all we really know about Fritz for certain, due to the the OG Fourth Closet Novel, is that he has freckles. aside from that, i gave him a hair color between blonde and ginger (combination of the movie and graphic novel), and a short-sleeved, striped shirt.

Gabriel: in the original Help Wanted, we technically have a lot of details about Gabe, though they're pretty subtle. in the Freddy Repair game, we pick three items either OFF or from WITHIN Freddy. a baseball cap, a green and purple watch, and a red shoe. given that at least two of these items are found inside of Freddy, it could be inferred that these items once belonged to Gabriel. along with this, the game "Pizza Party" could be assumed to show Gabriel's luring and subsequent murder, if a bit abstractly (see: we appear to be playing as a child being lured to a back room in Freddy's, ending with us becoming Freddy. and Gabriel is generally agreed to be the child inside of Freddy). this would also make Gabriel around seven years old, given the number of candles on the cake. on top of this, Gabriel (or a child we can assume to be him) is described as having a black and white striped shirt in the original novels.

Jeremy: All We Have To Go Off Of Is The Movie. That's All We've Got. so i just did a slightly edited version of the Bonnie Kid in the movie.

Cassidy: we technically...don't have a lot on how they look. again, all we've really got is their appearance in the original Fourth Closet novel - long black hair. why don't i count the UCN face? technically speaking, we don't know that's Cassidy. we don't know if the boy from the movie is called Cassidy; the main reason i used the movie as evidence for Jeremy is because we have nothing else to go off of for him. but all we know about Cassidy is "long black hair." decided to make it somewhat frizzy, like popular hairstyles from the 80s.

so! with all that out of the way, extra fun facts!!

Jeremy is in 6th grade, while Cassidy is in 7th grade. Cassidy was in the same grade as Mike at the time (1980).

Fritz has autism and ADHD. he has a lot of meltdowns where he gets a bit violent; usually towards himself. he pulls at his hair, scratches himself, sometimes hits himself, kicks, etc. that's why he's got a lot of scratches, scrapes, bruises, and is covered in bandages.

while not visible, Cassidy and Jeremy have braces.

Cassidy is transmasc (he/they), and Gabriel is transfem, but unaware of that.

that is all!! hope y'all enjoy these :]

@that-darn-clown @hello-there-world @docterzerocare

[anonmousegosqueak]

So- while being emotional while on your period has long been a way of being jerks to women (not that just women have periods, I'm just saying the amount of old white men who shut down a fem-person by being like 'oh, is it that time of the month?' makes me want to hunt someone for sport) I do get unreasonably emotional.

Like I'm always worried that I need to go up on my meds or possibly check back into the hospital, only to later be like "damn, that was dramatic."

So long story short- Soap is a mess whenever he gets his period. And I can make these jokes because I am no different.

EDIT: I'VE BEEN CURSED. THE CRAMPS. SOAP GAVE THEM TO ME

Continuation of this hc.

So we've already talked about Soap's cramps, but I raise you emotional Soap. Like, he's already yoinking Roach around for warmth, he's already stealing his bed, but he's also crying softly and demanding cuddles.

Bro turns into a literal baby.

Example, Gaz comes in to refill Soap's tea (like the good boyfriend he is) only to be met with a sobbing Scotsman.

"I'M TYING THE KNOT WITH A *BRIT* OF ALL PEOPLE. THREE OF EM-" *Sobs louder.*

They have no plans for marriage.

And yet Soap is treating it like the worst thing ever that his 'husbands' are mostly British. Gaz can barely hold back his laughs as he sits down next to Soap, carding his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah? And who's fault is that?"

"But- But... Gary is also British sometimes. I'm alone... I scored the loves of my life and they're all *British.* I'm a disgrace to my ma."

"Oh hush, your mom loves us."

"Nik is the only one I can trust..."

Or:

In the shower, Ghost is holding Soap gently.

"I wanna take a bath... I just wanna cuddle my bonnie lad in the bath..."

"Okay? Do you want me to fill the tub?"

"No... I can't take a bath on my period, it'll make the water blood."

"Luv. I literally bathe in the blood of my enemies daily. You really think a little period blood would scare me?"

"oh. Can we get married?"

Idk, this is rambly but I'm in pain and need sillys. Don't judge me. Also I blame Boner for my cramps now, I was fine but now my insides want to become outsides.

[loves-alibi]

Ik you JUST posted it but will you please continue on the vampire soap whenever you can😞🙏I loved it

ugh you’ve twisted my arm

original drabble

how you meet vampire!soap

***

He can’t keep his eyes off of you, and he isn’t good at hiding it. Stuffed in the corner of the pub at a table with three other men, his eyes are on you. You’d tell him to fuck off if he wasn’t cute. And if he hadn’t been sending you drinks all night.

Through the haze of your third (fourth?) espresso martini, you don’t try to hide your ogling. There’s a glow to him, light bouncing off of his skin and drawing you in. Despite his ridiculous haircut, he’s remarkably handsome— strikingly so. If he looks this good in a dark pub, you dare to wonder how he looks in the sun… if that skin becomes sunkissed when summer finally comes.

You’re too busy memorizing the way that his cheeks plump up when he smiles

Your friends get bored of the stolen glances. They tell the bartender to send him a drink on your tab. Send him a pint, guys like that! The bartender tries to convince you to not send over a drink. Dumbly, you trust your friends.

The pint lands on his table and you see his mates chuckle and tease him. You watch with fearful eyes until he slides the pint to one of his mates— a hairy fellow with unusual facial hair. A pit might as well have opened up and swallowed you whole.

Your friends go silent and start apologizing to you. You’re too busy waving them off to notice the figure approaching you. At least, until a throat clears behind you.

It’s him. His eyes are so blue up close.

“Thank ye for the pint,” he says. He’s scottish. Nice. “But I think I’ve had my fill for tonight.” He waves at the bartender behind you, a friendly smile on his face. He has a set of impressive pearly whites, accentuated by extended canines. You lean in to get a closer look. You’ve never seen canines like his before.

“Johnny.”

A friend taps your shoulder. “Night, hon,” she says with a smile. You throw her a goodbye and catch a look at your other friends. They’re positively geeked, giggling and giving you thumbs ups. Johnny seems to notice, but doesn’t mind. He’s smirking, though it’s more to conceal his amusement than cockiness.

You tell Johnny your name. He repeats it, the sound of each vowel rolling off his tongue like a melody. His lips are so red. You want to run a thumb over them. They’re stained, the alabaster skin around his lips smudged to a just-kissed pink. Funny, you think. Not a lot of men like him spend their nights drinking wine in pubs.

“You have plans tonight?” You ask. His face falls, and in an instant you feel stupid for even asking. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be forward—“

“No, no,” he croons. “I have plans in the morning. I’d have to leave you before sunrise.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to—“

He doesn’t let you finish, pulling you in for a kiss. He tastes heavy, like petrichor bottled up into a man. You groan into his mouth, he takes the chance and slips his tongue deeper.

A few people clear their throats around you. You should feel insecure, you want to, but you can’t find it in you to pay attention to anything that dares to not be him. Johnny nips your lips before pulling away.

“Trust me, bonnie,” Johnny says. “I want to. But I want to do it right.”

“Do it right,” you nod dumbly. Your lips still sting where he had dug in. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Johnny chuckles. The sound of it is deep and smooth and goes straight to your core. “Be here tomorrow at five, yeah?”

A girlish smile pulls at your lips. “I’ll see you then.”

[diejager]

Hey if your comfortable with it, could you do childhood best friend Johnny (soap) CNC?

It's totally ok if not!

Cw: Consensual non-con/CNC, DUB-CON, safe words, creampie, childhood friend!Johnny, unprotected sex, PinV, tell me if I missed any.

He smothered you, pressing you into the couch of your shared flat with sloppy kisses, his mouth finding yours over and over again despite your avoidance, turning your face away from him. You fought against him, hands pushing his chest, straining against his strength and arms wrapped around your waist, gripping onto you tightly. His arms only tightened the more you fought, twisting and turning to free yourself from him, feet hanging from his shoulder and breasts jostling from his erratic pace.

“Hang- hang on! Johnny sto-”

You couldn’t get a word out with the hard shove of his cock, body rocking back and forth. You let out a shaky moan, your body burning with how hot Johnny ran, his musk - a mix of sweat, gunpowder and soothing teakwood - clogging up your nose. It played with your mind, completely drowning you in him, you couldn’t think clearly and you couldn’t fight him. You words - complaints - were forced out as breathless whimpers, mewls and keens rather than hisses and sneers.

“Johnny!”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your body growing taunt under him as you sunk your nails into his shoulders, feet kicking and hips bucking upwards. He groaned, pain and pleasure had long become one of the same in his mind, the bruises and bloody, crescent moons painting his back and shoulders, the marks of your writhing body beneath him - whether you agreed to it or not - and your pleasure drunk face.

He rutted against you, slick dripping down your ass and dirtying his navel with wet claps, splashing your cum everywhere. He drove in with sharp thrusts, feeling your walls fluttering around him as he grazed your sweet spot before hitting home, the bulbous head of his erect and engorged head tapping your cervix as often as he swallowed your cries, lips draped over you and teeth nipping at your lower lip.

Your squirming and fidgeting were a breeze to control, utilising his trained and cultured mass to hold you down and devour you with his whole being. You whined with every snap of his hips, the hard muscles of his abdomen rippling in a show of power and strength —overpowering and dominating. You were small under him (you used to stand taller than him in your early days of high school when his puberty had yet to strike, ruffling his hair and letting him hang off of you like you did as children), weak and vulnerable, something he so easily overpowered to get what he wanted.

Your lashes fluttered when you came, your pretty cunt clamping down on him as his pace stuttered, moaning lowly as a wave of undeniably strong pleasure washed over him. He kissed you then, tongue pushed down your throat, muffling the most filthy and most erotic groan you’d ever heard rumbling out of his throat. You felt heavy - tired - with his girth laying half-hard inside of you as the slit shot out ropes of cum, his thick, white load painting your walls and invading your womb.

“Colour, Bonnie lass,” his voice was raspy, hoarse from panting and gasping, feeling the lingering pulse and twitch of your walls around him, making him throb with need. Soap’s refractory time had always been fast, as overzealous has his character, his charm and smile playing into it to woo you to love your childhood friend.

“Green,” you were no better than him, chest rising and falling with laboured breaths despite doing nothing but take his roughness, clinging onto him to press kisses to his jaw and temple, coated in salty sweat that tingled on your tongue, “Just, just give me a minute, yeah, Johnny?”

“Aye.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysian @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

[districtfourmermaid]

Finished Round 4 of the Ballad, and this time, I was keeping an eye out for physical descriptions, particularly for Maude Ivory, but they are lacking. Sunrise was even less generous.

Maude Ivory because they don't say she's blonde in the book. That's a movie thing. If we remove movie canon from the equation and let her be potentially more like what we know of the Seam, I am less against her being related to the Everdeens. But because she was cast blonde, I have a feeling Suzanne meant for her to be blonde or didn't care if she wasn't.

Race/ethnicity in Panem rant under the cut.

I enjoy the racial ambiguity of Panem. I think it is telling where race shows up, like the class divide of D12 or the allegory/implication of D11, but it's neat that the rest is left vague. From the first time I read the Trilogy, it communicated how this is a future where many people have a multiethnic heritage to some extent, often with appearances that we would call racially ambiguous, how small Districts have such tiny gene pools that they could have become ethnicities in themselves over the centuries, and terms we are familiar with are no longer in common use. It was cool worldbuilding! And I took it personally, in a good way.

However, the movie casting brings out frustrations with the lack of physical descriptors. In Sunrise, Haymitch isn't described aside from having curly hair of an unspecified color. Hardly anyone gets anything. Lenore Dove merely has red hints in her hair when the sun catches it. Very vague. The Capitol people get descriptions of fashion, but not themselves. And it felt like both a compromise for blond movie!Haymitch and a strange sense that whatever the movies do is canon, to leave it open for casting that won't contradict the books too strongly. Which I dislike. Not on principle, but because Lionsgate didn't do as much with that freedom as they could have. With that in mind, I think Clemensia Dovecoat was written to be Asian in the Ballad, but without the movie casting, she would still be ambiguous (golden brown skin and raven hair). Similar can be said for Lucy Gray.

After the whitewashing of the Seam, it felt more like a lack of commitment to writing real characters of color with intent. And it narrowed the potential for diversity to what Lionsgate wants. There aren't explicitly canonically Asian, MENA, or Latino characters in the books (I'm a Native Seam truther, but even that is still only implied and seemingly accidental on Suzanne's part), since those terms aren't around. It's left to the reader to guess or imagine based on descriptions which aren't specific (which, again, I like but was a missed opportunity in the movies for the most part). In the Trilogy movies, there were some characters I had not pictured as black in the books who were cast with black actors: Cinna (brown hair, green eyes), Atala (tall), Beetee (black hair, ashen skin), Boggs (gray hair, blue eyes), and Paylor (dark brown eyes, but Bonnie and Twill from D8 are pale). It is great that these characters who could have been cast white were not. However, the casting throughout the movies (mostly Trilogy) largely maintained a black-white dichotomy, and those characters, among others, could have been cast with non-black actors of color, adding a bit of richness to the diversity. Because apart from Clemensia, Lucy Gray, and a few side or background characters, there aren't many non-black POC in the movies, either. The movies may have more black characters, a confirmed Asian character, and a half Latina actress, which is good, but they are overall less diverse than the Panem I imagine.

[faustinio27]

BONNIE HUTCHINSON - Character profile (HL OC)

GENERAL

Full name: Bonifacia Wilhelmina Hutchinson

Nicknames: Bonnie, Bonnie Minnie

Age: 15 (5th year)

Gender: Female

House: Hufflepuff

MBTI: ISFJ (Defender)

Blood status: Pure-blood

Social status: Aristocrat

Wand: Unicorn heart

Patronus: Bat : "The bat Patronus is representative of rebirth, honesty, and empathy. Though a bat commonly represents fear, the casters of this Patronus understand that facing your fears is what helps you grow as a person."

Animagus: Swallowtail butterfly (non-registered)

Boggart: Her disappointed mother

Amortentia: Vanilla, petrichor, gardenia

Favorite class: Herbology

Favorite teacher: Professor Garlick

Least favorite teacher: Professor Howin

APPAREANCE

Old Disney princess energy

Hair: Type 4a, black

Eyes: Droopy, black

Skin tone: Deep dark

Height: 1m72 (5'6)

Distinguishing features: Teeth gap, mole under her right eye, thick eyebrows

Clothing style: Classy, Princess, Cottagecore aesthetic

Elegant and always clean-cut. She doesn't wear the robe of her house, just the puffy shirt and long black skirt, with the characteristic yellow Hufflepuff ribbon. With the uniform, she always has a pair of earrings that can vary, and her frizzy hair is tied back with a pastel-colored ribbon. She wears almost nothing but dresses or skirts. Outside school, she wears luxurious outfits. Although she likes to dress in pastel colors, most often yellow, green and white, she sometimes wears gloomy black and purple outfits, the colors of her family. She loves to wear clothes with plant, flower or butterfly motifs, and has a soft spot for ribbons. She has a lot of body hair and shaves regularly.

PERSONALITY

Bonnie is a very gentle and sweet person, like a calm sun. She lights up the surroundings with her smile and optimism. Pacific by nature, she always chooses kindness and belief in others, which can make her seem naive. But she remains strong for her ability to choose peace when she has the capacity to hurt. Very popular for her beauty and gentleness, everyone has a crush on her. She's very sociable and is friends with everyone, but has few close friends. Only they know about her teasing side, which she hides, because it tends to bewilder others. You'll never see her get angry, unless she catches you mistreating plants or other harmless creatures. Coming from a good family, she's well-bred, polite and courteous. She can also be "appreciated" for her beauty and status alone, and faces many hyporcrites.

Bonnie is passionate about herbology, and confident in her abilities. Plants are her whole life, and she cherishes them as if they were her own children. She doesn't like when people see them only as tools, whereas she treats them as living beings. Many people think she's only good at looking after flowers and other pretty but useless plants, but what she prefers are dangerous and venomous ones, which tend to surprise people when they find out. Moreover, she has an attraction for all things normally repulsive and frightening: spiders, Sombrals, trolls, toads… Which makes her open-minded and not judge people by their appearance. But she tends to hide it, so as not to be linked to her family's dangerousness and to be feared. It's hard to scare her, as she keeps her composure, and she may appear reckless in dangerous situations. The Hufflepuff spends most of her time in the school greenhouse taking care of her plants, or can be found in the forest.

We might think that Bonnie lacks of ambition, because she doesn’t aspire to much. If she has to take over the family business and become a ruthless businesswoman, she dreams of a simple life, where she would live with her wife and children, and would take care of her plants in a small cottage. She has resigned herself to such a life and blindly follows the orders of her family, but still hopes to find the strength to break free from them. A certain Slytherin could help her…

Traits: kind, patient, romantic, calm, sociable, sensible, empathic, peaceful, naive, passive, idealist but tend to be fatalistic

Likes: plants (Tentacula venenosa are her favorite), tea parties, picnic, sweet fruits, wake up with the sun, Sombrals, spiders

Dislikes: gossip, close-mind and hateful people, dark arts, being seen as a fragile and defendless things

Good at: herbology, potions, singing, dancing, playing a harp

Bad at: defending herself, Quidditch, not being pretty

Hobbies: taking care of her plants, flying with Imelda, walk in the wild

Fears: losing Imelda, disappointing her parents, fire

RELATIONSHIP

Partner:

Imelda Reyes: The two students didn't get along at first. Imelda saw Bonnie as a silly girl, living only in her haughty little artistocrat world, and Bonnie saw her as cruel and contemptuous for her own pleasure. They spoke little to each other, had no friends in common, no shared passions, and tolerated each other for classes. Still, Imelda was stung in her ego that the Hufflepuff who liked everyone didn't like her, and Bonnie was vexed that she didn't reciprocate the kindness she showed. And so the years went by, Bonnie ignoring her and Imelda sparring, until Imelda came to her with a request for a potion to help her improve her Quidditch performance. From there, an exchange of favors between the two teenagers led to them spending more time together, learning more about each other, and growing fonder of each other. Until they fell in love.

Bonnie is the calm sunshine and Imelda the grumpy storm. Despite appearances, Bonnie loves to tease her girlfriend by flirting with her without warning, even though she knows it's unladylike. They support each other in their respective passions, even if they know nothing about them. Imelda appreciates her gentleness and optimism, while Bonnie appreciates her honesty, bravery and admires most of all her self-confidence. Both have learned to see beyond appearances: Imelda learns that kindness is an act of courage and use her strong personality to help her girlfriend, and Bonnie learns to stand up for herself and not let others do it to her while keeping her convictions. Bonnie confided to Imelda her secret of being an animagus, encouraged by the latter to show her true strength. Imelda gives her the confidence to assume who she is. The Slytherin loves her for who she is, not for how rich she is or what she's asked to be.

Fiancee:

Ominis Gaunt: Ominis and Bonnie were engaged as children. The Huntchinsons want to mingle with the Gaunts to rise socially, and because it's an honor to link up with such a powerful and noble family. Especially because of their shared pure-blood ideology and hatred for the Muggles. Fortunately, the two children get along well and have become friends, and Bonnie's mother is counting on this alliance to rebuild her daughter's reputation. The children support each other through the difficult times caused by the toxicity of their respective families.

Now teenagers, the two don't talk about their union at school, which no one (except Sebastian) knows about. Although friends, they suspect that neither is in love. But they don't think they can escape an arranged marriage, and prefer to get married with a friend, rather than separate and risk having to marry someone they don't like. Until Bonnie fell in love with Imelda. Ominis found out, and encouraged her to follow her heart and defy her family, giving him the courage to do the same. They remained on good terms for the rest of their lives.

Friends:

Adelaide Oakes: One of her roomates. They hit it off right away, with their calm, warm personalities. It was when Bonnie saw Adelaide persisting in her studies and her hobbies that she realized the gap in wealth that separated them: Bonnie's future was assured (if she decided to follow the path set out for her), but her friend had to fight to be able to have a decent life. Nevertheless, there's no jealousy between the girls, and they enjoy gardening together.

Samantha Dale: She and Bonnie got on well together, thanks to their passion for botany and their qualifications for potions. Samantha is a great talker when they're together, and likes to discuss anything and everything - classes, boys, fashion, etc.- when it's not about herbology. Bonnie wishes her friend were a Hufflepuff so they could spend even more time with together. They regularly form a trio with Adelaide around their passion for plants, and are known to be Professor Garlick's favorite students.

Natsai Onai: Bonnie is the first student that Natsai went to see when she arrived at Hogwarts, thinking she was also an African student. Although this was not the case, they became friends and she helped him quickly integrate into school and Scottish society. In return, Bonnie often asks her to tell stories about her home country, where she has lost its customs. Natsai tells her everything with pleasure, and wants to help her learn their language, as well as handle magic without a wand. Bonnie admires her bravery and determination, which she lacks of. She would like to be able to tell her that she is an animagus to fly with her, but hasn't told her. Bonnie is worried that some members of her family are taking a little too close interest in Natsai, being a pure-blood witch with her father killed from a muggle hunter, and to corrupt her with their anti-Muggles ideas.

Leander Prewett: Like her other friends, Bonnie and Leander have bonded over their shared passion for botany. He enjoys her company, not least because she's not stingy with compliments, and he finds himself invigorated after spending time with her. He also has a crush on the Hufflepuff that everyone seems to see except her (or she deliberately ignores him, because it's not mutual). Even if Bonnie is often asked why a girl as popular as she is spending time with such a loser, she simply replies that she enjoys his company, which is true. She doesn't regard him as a nobody nor with pity and defends his honor with composure, resenting anyone putting down her friend, even more if it's supposed to "compliment" her.

Family:

Mother Wilhelmina (animagus: black widow): Wilhelmina is a cold woman who could easily be nicknamed "Lady of Steel". She never smiles, and keeps her family under her thumb. Nothing is more important to her than the honor of the Hutchinsons and keeping her daughter in line with tradition. Wilhelmina has often been envied by those around her, especially her younger brother Augustus who envies her position as heiress, and who has passed this resentment to his sons. When Bonnie was born, she decided to not have another child, to avoid the same jealousy as her brother. But this puts even more pressure on Bonnie to live up to her expectations, as she is the only direct descendant. Wilhelmina loves her deeply as a child, especially as she had difficulty getting pregnant, and wants to keep her away from the toxicity of her relatives. Nevertheless, she fears her daughter's recklessness and raises her firmly to force her to toughen up. She's stingy with her compliments, but reminds her that she's doing all this because she loves her, and to protect her from their family of vultures. Unfortunately, Bonnie seems to prefer empathy to severity.

Their relationship has worsened with each passing year, first after the discovery of her daughter's butterfly animagus, then her entry into the Hufflepuff house, which has brought her ridicule among her own kind. Seeing that the situation is not improving, and that the whole family is beginning to think that her daughter is not fit to lead them and does not deserve her status as heiress, Wilhelmina is torn between her duty as family leader and her love for her daughter. Unfortunately, it's the former that takes precedence over the latter, and their relationship deteriorates to the point of toxicity.

Bonnie loves her mother deeply but is dependent on her and her opinion, finds it hard to assert herself and is afraid of disappointing her more than anything else in the world. She'd like to find a situation where she can live the life she wants, without it causing a rift between them. She would later talk about her relationship with Imelda, naively hoping that her mother would accept her daughter's pure love. All she received was anger and disappointment. Two main problems: Imelda is half-blood with a pure-blood mother and a muggle-blood father, and she couldn't have biological children with her (not to mention that the Reyes were neither wealthy nor influential). Wilhelmina tried to work out an arrangement, such as letting Bonnie take Imelda as her lover as long as she married Ominis, but her daughter remained adamant about a love marriage, causing an even greater rift between the two.

Father Lawrence: Bonnie doesn't have much of a relationship with her father. While her mother looks after their manor house and family business in the surrounding area, her father is busy expanding their market to Scotland and even the world, leaving them little time to see each other. Lawrence is a quiet, serious man, as is Wilhelmina. Both know that their marriage is about business, not love, and that he was chosen because of his pure-blood status, his disdain for the Muggles, and his business acumen. It was his wife who decided to take charge of their daughter's education, and he relies entirely on her. He hopes that Bonne will follow the path that seems so clear to her.

Uncle Augustus (animagus: onychocerus beetle): Augustus is Wilhelmina's youngest and first brother. He's charming and charismatic, serious and implacable. Augustus has always been jealous of his older sister, believing himself to be better than her in every way, and more capable of leading their family to better days. He thinks it's unfair that she should be the heiress only because she's the eldest, whereas he thinks he's more competent than her. He works with her in their family business despite their tensions. He only wants one thing: to see his sister and daughter fall so he can take over the family business and make his sons the heirs of the Hutchinsons.

Aunt Ahutiare: Ahutiare was a gentle, kind and cheerful Tahithian by nature. She had fallen head over heels in love with Augustus during their time together at Hogwarts, as he was a popular, wealthy, charming and gentlemanly student who promised her the world. Ahutiare had little confidence in herself, coming from a wealthy family of purebloods fresh to London, and that was exactly what interested her lover: a docile, submissive woman of pure blood like his own. They married soon after graduation, and she became pregnant not long after her husband insisted on having children as soon as possible. Little did she know that his sole motivation was to have heirs before his sister did. Year after year, the mask crumbled and Ahutiare caught a glimpse of the narcissistic pervert she had married. He took her children away from her and raised them with the help of a wet nurse. Ahutiare became a shadow of her former self, receiving no affection from her husband after giving birth, only luxurious jewels and fine clothes to show her like a trophy to his relatives. She blindly follows her husband and agrees with everything he does and says. She spends most of her time at home, and only goes out if he forces her to. Her zest for life died a long time ago.

Cousins Ambrose and Archibald (animagus: bullet ant / harvesting ant) : The Hutchinson twins take after their father, who taught them and instilled his values. They are two years Bonnie's senior, and will soon have completed their studies at Hogwarts, during which they have given their cousin a hard time. Despite being the oldest of their generation, they think it's unfair that Bonnie should be the heiress. To say they despise her would be an understatement. Ambrose and Archibald are brilliant, charismatic boys who are cold, ambitious and ruthless. They're very popular, especially among the Slytherins, who rally to their cause rather than to the Hutchinson heiress, not to mention the support of their own family. The twins are never without each other, but their friendship hangs by a thread, as they would be ready to kill each other to define who would take over the family. One of them seems to have a particular interest in Natsai…

Uncle Hugh (animagus: scolopendra millipede): Hugh is the youngest of his siblings. When he entered Hogwarts, he was to have been sent to Ravenclaw, but begged the Sorting Hat to send him to his family house, even though he didn't have the values. Being the youngest, he knew he'd never have a high position in the family and didn't seek it, fleeing the rivalry of his elders. Hugh is a coward, a man who prefers to run away from conflict to be safe and go with the flow. Nevertheless, he's an inquisitive scholar who thrives on science and books, although no one has ever had anything to do with his shyness. Lacking business acumen, he is relegated to the background of the family business, but has an equally important role: inventing new formulas for their potions and poisons.

Aunt Vera: Vera is the daughter of a bourgeois family who married Hugh for no other reason than to rise socially in the sphere of nobility. She loves him only for his status, and would have preferred to marry his older brother Augustus, whom she finds more charming, more ambitious, and closer to becoming heir to the Hutchinsons. Vera is eager for power, not to rule, but to take it easy and find a comfortable situation where she has nothing to do but flaunt her wealth and gossip.

Cousin Eugenia (animagus: giant silk glass caterpillar) : Eugenia was born a few months after Bonnie, and they're both in the same class. Eugenia is terribly envious of her older cousin: she envies her position, her talent for potions and herbology, her beauty… Although Eugenia has nothing to be ashamed of, she does her best to be noticed, but she lives in the shadow of her cousin, who is the heiress to their family. As a real pest, she doesn't hesitate to slander and gossip about Bonnie, finding comfort only in putting her down. She's shallow and hopes to find a good match, as her father is only the youngest of his siblings, so she knows she can't hope for a better position in their family.

Cousin Basil (animagus: bee) : Basil is an 8-year-old boy who loves his cousin Bonnie. He's not interested in his family's stories, and prefers to concoct a new prank to play on them. Energetic and mischievous, a future Slytherin with a big heart, he's tireless and loves to involve Bonnie in his games. His big sister Eugenia often chases him away because "she's too old for these pranks", and they spend their time bickering. Basil is the fresh air Bonnie needs in her toxic family, and she cherishes him with all her heart.

HUTCHINSON'S STORY

The Hutchinson crest. The apple for freedom, the castle for wealth, the sun for their superiority, and the scorpio for their ancestor's animagus.

The family's most distant recognized ancestor was called Ousmane. He was an African wizard who was captured and sold as a slave to a wealthy white master in Scotland in 1675, to work on a tobacco plantation. Like all slaves of the time, he was mistreated and lived in atrocious conditions, which marked him forever. He refused to use magic, terrified of being discovered as a wizard and killed. But as the years passed, his anger only increased, and he decided to devise a plan of escape. One night, he entered his master's home as a thick-tailed scorpion, his animagus, and stung him. His deadly venom killed him, and Ousmane took the opportunity to steal his fortune and escape before dawn. As a runaway black slave, he hurried to the Scottish wizarding world to seek refuge, unconcerned about the fate of the slaves left behind.

From that day on, he rebuilt his life. He decided to stay in Scotland and used his former master's fortune to live a comfortable life, raising himself to the rank of aristocrat. He specialized in poisons and venoms of all kinds, and was particularly appreciated by the dark wizards for this. By frequenting them, he came to share their anti-Muggles ideas, to whom he dedicated a hatred without name. He accused them all of being slavers, not only against the Blacks but also against the wizards they hunted and burned. He never returned to the Muggle world because he didn't belong there due to his skin color and magic, and his descendants would never mix with them or with wizards of Muggle or mixed blood. They'll all become Slytherins, and it's frowned upon to come from another Hogwarts house.

The Hutchinson family became known for being a refuge for Black wizards who wanted to settle in Scotland, but they had to submit to their conditions and ode of thought, such as muggle hatred. She is also known to free all the house elves she buys, due to her trauma of slavery. Thus, all house elves are free servants, paid and treated well, who can stay and work for them or leave if they wish. The family is criticized for this, especially by dark wizards, but the Hutchinsons remain faithful to this rule. Denying one's Black roots is frowned upon, such as straightening one's hair for girls.

Nevertheless, to better integrate into Scottish life and aristocracy, Ousmane abandoned his African surname, native language and traditions, except for one that has become the family mainstay: becoming an animagus. All direct descendants are known to be venomous insects, the most distant being deadly (but not venomous) insects or venomous animals (not insects). The business of poisons and venoms is passed down from generation to generation. The eldest child becomes head of the family, regardless of whether it's a boy or a girl. Spouses are not required to be animagus or Slytherin (or to be Black), but it's always appreciated. They must, however, take the name of their husband or wife to keep the family heritage, whether they are men or women.

BONNIE'S BACKSTORY

Bonnie came into the world with one goal: to be the heiress to the Hutchinson family, and to take over as head of the family when the time came, with the duties that go with it. Despite these demands and a strict upbringing worthy of a young noblewoman, her early years were quite peaceful. She took part in all her chores without complaint, and her particular interest in herbology delighted her parents. If her peaceful nature didn't worry them more than that, everything changed at the animagus ceremony when she turned 7. The family gathered to celebrate the animagus of a new child in the family -and here, being the heiress, the interest was more than special. Only her parents could witness her first transformation, before it was revealed to the rest of the family. Bonnie knew she came from a line of animagus insects, so when she transformed into a beautiful yellow butterfly, she was delighted. Until she became human again and found her parents astonished. Not only was she not a venomous insect, like all the direct descendants of their distant ancestor, she was just... a harmless insect. With the animagus representing the personality of the wizard, she would be directly labeled pretty, but useless. It was such a shame that her parents preferred to reveal that she hadn't succeeded in her transformation, hoping to gain time to help her become another animal. Even so, it was a laughing stock for her family, who already saw her as unfit to rule them if she wasn't able to reveal her animagus. Since then, Bonnie has been strictly forbidden to speak to anyone about this event, and to transform herself, making her feel as if she were being restrained not fully herself. Her parents were convinced that they had been too gentle with her and that this had an impact on her animagus.

From then on, although they were already strict, they became nothing but cold to their daughter. They tried their best to instill hatred, ambition and firmness in her, but Bonnie only thrived on empathy and love. Despite her efforts to compensate for her perceived weak personality, she redoubled her efforts to appear perfect in their eyes: she studied poisons with more interest, took her lessons in good behavior to be a respectable girl, maintained her relationship with Ominis and the Gaunts, but could not adhere to her parents' hateful ideas. When she was taken out to Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin, she ended up sobbing, knowing that she had disappointed them yet again. Which she did: it was yet another reason to prove to the rest of her family that she wasn't worthy of being the Hutchinson heiress. Her parents wanted to take her through the Sorting Hat ceremony again, but it refused.

Bonnie finally found a place that accepted her for who she was. Although she had difficulty making friends at first due to her status and to the Hutchinsons' ruthless reputation, her sociability and kindness helped make her popular, especially as she grew older. The people around her at school reinforced her peaceful values, but she felt torn between her morals and her duties. She had accepted her destiny as an heiress, until she fell in love with a half-blood and found a reason to fight for what she wanted.

FUTURE

At a family dinner near the end of her fifth year, Bonnie's mother was given a choice: leave her place as heiress to her brother and sons, or use any means to force her daughter to take her role seriously. Bonnie was unaware of this deal, and announced the breakup of her engagement to Ominis (absent that evening). With a heavy heart, Wilhelmina tried to cast an Impero spell on her daughter, but Basil narrowly warned her, and she could dodge it. Bonnie fled, her whole family on her heels to catch her, some to hurt her, others to prevent her from leaving. It was then that she was able to jump from the 4th-floor window. Her family exclaimed in terror, thinking she was going to kill herself, but she transformed into a butterfly and flew off, making everyone aware of her previously hidden animagus.

Bonnie fled to Imelda, who took her in with her parents. Her parents already knew her and welcomed her happily. Unfortunately, Wilhelmina tried to force her daughter to return home by getting Headmaster Black on her side, and threatening to remove her from Hogwarts. Bonnie took her aside and threatened her in turn, encouraged by Imelda, to reveal all the darkest secrets of their dark wizard family to the Ministry of Magic. Indeed, some time after running away, Bonnie secretly returned to their home to retrieve some of her belongings, as well as compromising documents, with the help of a house elf. Her horrified mother left her alone and disinherited her, and Bonnie was able to live with the Reyes in a warm cocoon. For although Bonnie lost her inheritance and her wealth, she found true love. She felt infinitely indebted to the Reyes, yet worried that her family would try anything against them. Fortunately, they were happy for her to disappear, leaving them free to designate a more worthy heir.

After Hogwarts, Bonnie and Imelda married. They live in a cottage in the middle of the forest, surrounded by nature. Bonnie works as a seller of plants of all kinds, spending her time pampering them and selling them to enthusiasts. She encourages Imelda in her career as a professional Quidditch player and is her greatest supporter. The wives adopted two children:

The first, a young disabled witch and future Gryffindor, is forced to stay in a walking (not rolling) chair because she can't use her legs. She has a strong personality and dreams of becoming a Quidditch player like Imelda, who encourages her to do so, and inherits more of her traits. Turbulent and hyperactive, she thrives only on sport and sweat, and hates magic theory. After Hogwarts, she was refused entry to all teams because of her disability. Not content to take it lying down, she went on to create the highly successful Parasports Quidditch, helped by Imelda.

The second one is a young werewolf whom Bonnie finds wounded near their home in the forest. He has been disowned by his pack of werewolves who live apart from the wizards because of the lack of wildness in him. The boy is physically imposing, but very shy and has trouble with social relationships. He will be homeschooled and Bonnie will take care of his education. Although his sister and mother encourage him to take advantage of his body to play Quidditch, he will thrive on quiet activities and prefers to spend time in Bonnie's garden. She will accompany him to the forest every full moon as a butterfly, and tries her best to make his situation as pleasant as possible.

Bonnie may have cut ties with her family, but her cousin Basil, now grown up (whom she hasn't seen since she finished her studies at Hogwarts), found her and they renewed contact. He tells her that since she left, Ambrose and Archibald have been fighting a mortal battle day after day to see who will become the leader of their family, splitting it into two distant clans in the process. He keeps his distance from the toxicity of their family, and is happy to meet Bonnie Reyes' new family. He will always be welcome and will visit them regularly.

The modest family will live happily ever after.

[cancerian-woman]

it really made no sense to me that hope was such a powerful witch and didn't have a witch mother. I am very interested in hearing about how your hope and bonnie similarities thoughts as well`

I can’t find my old posts right now or I’d tag them lol.

That’s why the “first-born-Mikaelson” trait was created to explain Hope’s witch side. In TVD Esther’s “powerful” moment consisted of leeching off the Bennett’s as a bloodline and praising their hard work. The entire reason Esther was brought back was because of Bonnie/Abby. The tailsmen that gets passed around initially belonged Ayana. I cannot stress this enough if Esther had 7 kids and only 2 were witches the gene was not the strong. I know it’s many debates on if the Mikaelsons were untapped witches but that wasn’t confirmed to my knowledge.

I assume they didn’t want Phoebe playing a witch again after TSC ended. Instead, we have Hayley saying multiple times she did not know what to do about Hope’s growing powers. Klaus was already a hybrid with an unexplored werewolf side. Sure, he used it to enforce power but we’re shown he didn’t hate it.

Hope is book description Bonnie without the curly hair. White, short, powerful and has red hair. Legacies has a running gag about Hope being the tiny tribrid. Coincidentally Danielle & Kat are the same height. I just thought this one was funny.

Both fall under characters that were born into the supernatural world. While we see Hope’s birth and a confirmation she was a witch(later tribrid). We don’t get an explanation of why Bonnie started practicing later in life when the witch-gene is prominent in all Bennett women. Throughout tvd as we meet other witches they knew during infancy or early-childhood.

Bonnie fights forcibly to use her powers to save everyone else even at the expense of herself. In Legacies Alaric’s reasonings for wanting Hope at the boarding school was expecting her to be the protector to his daughters. Both Bonnie and Hope hold the responsibility of wanting to save everyone and feel devastated when by the possibility of not saving everyone.

I’ll give you an example outside these parallels: Bonnie letting her friends pass through her knowing it was killing her as the anchor for their survival. Hope choosing to die and become the tribrid so the malivore could stop killing people. Bonnie stopping hellfire from destroying Mystic Falls. Hope taking in the hallow from her relatives saved NOLA even though it was killing her. It’s more than that but I’d be listing things all day by that point. Those two women are sacrificial as they are strong women. Look at this here.

It’s a reason why people choose to compare Hope to Bonnie more than her own relatives or her mother. This isn’t a jab to Hayley but the plots focused too much on Hope’s witch-side. People find joy in trying to humble Bonnie as a witch. As I said here the fanbase wouldn’t have been as accepting if Hope’s mom was of color or even if Hope was biracial.

But if she was I’d nominate Bailey Bass in a heartbeat