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turbulentscrawl · 4 months

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Could I get an Aesop, Norton and Kevin with a S/O who gets turned into a hunter because they learned too much? Like. Their Significant other was always very enthusiastic about discovering secrets and stuff, and they started acting off because they discovered something BAD. And within a month or so. They moved officially to the hunter manor? 🙏

If that's too much, feel free to ignore or decline!

I put my own spin on this, i hope you don't mind! This is SFW but going under the cut because it plays into the horror aspect of the game. Also, I don't have the time to whip up a kevin header currently and don't have the patience to wait on posting this....so I'll get his made and added later!

Warnings: body horror, angst

The worst part of it all is that you can’t even remember the reason for it all.

You were a seeker, a searcher, always nosing into places and subjects you didn’t belong. You craved to know the world’s secrets and that included the manor’s. You spent long hours, days, weeks, investigating the manor’s records, the histories of its inhabitants, obtaining the aid of…some horrific woman. A veritable snake. She told you something. Something bad…. Something that ruined you from the inside out, necrosing its way through every cell.

The changes come slowly at first, and painfully. Your muscles and joints would ache. Your head would throb. Your bones would move on their own, shifting and stretching inside your tearing meat. You drowned in darkness, and suffocated in blinding lights. The worst moments of your life came to you again! Again! Again! Again! Again! Again! Again! Again! Again!

And when all the pain finally melted away, you were different. The friendly faces around you were once your enemies. Your own face was that of a lion, and the original of it staring back was the clueless lamb.

Aesop

-He showed little interest in your “search for answers.” He wants to understand everything better too, true, but even the detective sorts among you had found few answers. Orpheus, Alice, Naib…. No offense to you, of course, I’m just saying he wasn’t be holding his breath….

-But far be it from this recluse to stop you. He of all people understands what it means to hyperfocus on your work. Work is familiarity, truth, and on some level he can imagine how a tangled mystery might be as comfortable to you as a corpse is to him. They both reveal truths in indirect ways.

-Because of your busybody separation from one another during this time, he likely doesn’t notice the changes right away. He probably finds out from someone else about the aches and pains you’ve been having, the sweats, fever, and all without a match in the records to explain them away. People didn’t get sick in the manor, yet somehow you inexplicably were.

-Then you sleep. For days. You’re still enough that Aesop almost feels like he’s watching over one of his 'normal' patients, like he should be doing your makeup. He’s calm, but checks for your pulse and breathing a lot. That’s when he notices you crying in your sleep.

-And things only go downhill from there. Aesop is generally level-headed, but there’s something about your aura that begins to disturb him. He refuses to leave, to abandon you when something is obviously wrong, but you go more and more still under his watchful eyes. You stop breathing, your skin goes pallid, but blood is still hot in your veins—he gives your thumb a pinprick to be sure of it. Your pillow is always wet because you won’t stop silently crying.

-On a whim one day, he decides to check your eyes. He collapses to the ground when he realizes the sockets are empty and raw. He runs from your room then, and when Emily returns to investigate your body is gone.

-The next day, you return in perfect condition. Healthy, though confused, and with no memory of that last several weeks of pain. You both had a match the next day, and Aesop decided he would focus on protecting you above anything else.

-But the Hunter was new. Eerie, unspeaking, blind…and cried ceaselessly. Aesop was frozen in genuine fear when the other you lumbered by him, choking on pained sobs, perhaps in search of your old peace.

Norton

-He told you from the beginning that it was a bad idea. Norton was not an educated man but he had sense—and experience—enough to know when paranormal shit was not to be trifled with. He still had nightmares about that eye….

-But you went on ahead with your business anyway. He let you, albeit while watching his back a whole lot more. Isolating. Swallowing his dread. You remind him of his mistakes before you even make them.

-He doesn’t think much of your first symptoms. Norton gets sore sometimes, and feels ill. The Black Lung never did leave him, and some days he handles it worse than others. You have nothing like that, though, and after several days of persisting discomfort he remembers that fact and sends you to Emily. She’s as perplexed as him though, and that makes him feel even more nervous.

-He also doesn’t notice for a while that you’ve stopped talking about your search entirely. He asks you about it once, when he catches you staring at the wall in a daze, and feels like a knife pierces his lung when you say you don’t have the faintest clue what he’s talking about.

-He keeps catching you like that. Paralyzed in a particular spot. Watching things, unblinking. When you come to, you don’t remember what you were doing. Your memory starts go slip away like Luca’s does, but somehow it’s more severe. You remember who you are, who he is, but everything else is gone. Some evenings he practically has to spoon feed you dinner because the concept of silverware and food have escaped you.

-Paranoid of what it all means, Norton starts to stay with you at night. But he gets no sleep during those times because all night you moan in pain. When Norton wraps his arms around you for comfort, he wears he feels your muscles twisting and undulating under your skin.

-Norton does not remember the last time he’s screamed, but he did the day after you finally seemed better. After he finally started to relax again. He was decoding in the top floor of the hospital when he heard that familiar moaning coming from below. He freezes at the sound, and when he looks over his shoulder he sees a twisted, stretched figure crawling up through the gaping hole in the floor. He knows the hair, the voice, but nothing else is you.

-And he screams, backed up against the cipher like a cornered animal. Never in his life has he not tried to run for his life, but when this Hunter of you locks eyes with him he can’t. He can’t run from what he didn’t fight harder against. Even when facing Fool’s Gold—himself—he’s never felt so much like a failure.

Kevin

-He’s always known he lacks your foresight. Kevin can’t begin to suspect the truth of things like this place. The sprawling vastness of it, he doesn’t trust himself to comprehend the complexity, the darkness. But you? Well, even if this it all a bit eerie, he’s got faith in your intelligence.

-He plays closer attention to you than the other two. The second you start to look off, he tasks notice. He sees the obsession in your face, the dark bags under your eyes, the way your nose digs deeper into things than before. You become…pushier with people.

-Kevin suggests you take a break, but you wave him off. You’re onto something, you say, and just need a little more understanding before everything unravels. He doesn’t like that word. “Unravel.”

-Which is perhaps a premonition, because it’s a great word to describe what happens to you. When you’re awake—and you are awake for irrationally long hours—you seem positively mad. You whisper to yourself in words that don’t sound human. He catches “Hastur” among them a few times, and “Witch” but once again his own comprehension fails.

-And when you sleep, you scream. The fist few nights it happened, he and a few others came running from down the hall and roused you. You didn’t remember the terrors. Night after night it happened, the response dwindling until it was just Kevin abandoning his own sleep to help you from whatever was terrifying you in your sleep.

-Then, you stopped waking up. He tried everything! Water, those smelling salts Emily had. Nothing would wake you and you just kept screaming, screaming, screaming like you were being dissected in your bed. After three days of not sleeping himself, Kevin carried your thrashing form to the infirmary. He was horrified when Emily suggested restraining and gagging you, but he had no other ideas himself. He slept in the chair nearby for what felt like weeks.

-And one day it all stopped. Kevin woke up, cracked his stiff neck, and noticed you were gone from your restraints. Emily was as confused as he was, but before the panic could build you emerged from your own bedroom, right as rain.

-He pulled you aside and cried in your arms until he passed out himself.

-The next match, though, started his own series of nightmares. Only a few minutes in he heard that scream. That blood-curdling wail that had been seared into his memory. It paralyzed him, and everyone else, on the spot. And then the vestige of your suffering appeared. Dark, shivering, voice raw and pained. The new Hunter that rounded the corner was undeniably you, and Kevin was sure he’d never know another peaceful day again.

#idv x reader #identity v #aesop carl x reader #kevin ayuso x reader #norton campbell x reader #idv prospector #idv embalmer #idv cowboy #turbulentscrawl

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dentiststoothfairy · 8 months

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Omg okay, okay...idv character with a s/o who's really bad at showing emotions with their face, so they always have something with them, like a mask with the right emotion or paper with a smiley on it!

Like, they can't smile, so they get a sheet of paper out of their pocket and draw a little smile on it!

Maybe with Norton (bc i love this man omg) OR your fave idv character? I would be interested in who you like 👀🌟

Also stay hydrated and enjoy your day/night 💕

[𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙴𝚅𝚅𝙸𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙽 😍😍 𝚂𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙱𝙾𝚈 𝙰𝙼 𝙸 𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃, 𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙴𝚂? 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚂𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝙳𝙰𝚈- 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚜𝚑. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝. ]

🍩 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 🍩& 🤠𝐊𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐨 / 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨 🤠

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬/𝐨

🍩 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 🍩

Honestly that's fucking genius.

He has a pretty hard time expressing his emotions himself. Whether he's feeling angrier or whether he's feeling apathetic or the rare silliness...

So, the first time you two met- you both probably assumed the other was an asshole. But uh, EVIDENTLY THAT DIDN'T LAST.

He's always double checking whether or not you're comfortable with shit. That little notepad you have is a GOD SENT.

Honestly? He probably steals your tactic. He scribbles a little '🖕' middle finger emoji for people he doesn't like.

"How did the match go Y/N?"

" 😞"

"Awh.."

That's basically your dynamic. It's really fucking cute actually.

Yeah, Freddy thought it was strange but Norton shut that mother fucker right up. (Literally)

If you ever lost your papers? He'd go out of his way to get you more. These SAVE him and you. So, he's absolutely cool with that.

🤠 𝐊𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐨 / 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨 🤠

Honestly? He was a little confused at first.

He probably didn't even realise you were carrying a paper at first. He was just staring at your face as his expression slowly morphed to one of unease as your expression didn't change at all-

Once you gestured down to your paper- OH HE SIGHED WITH SUCH RELIEF! He thought he made you uncomfortable!

He doesn't mind it at all! Whatever helps you out. In fact, if it helps you communicate? He'd rather you use it then be left without it.

He actually finds it pretty interesting. That is pretty damn inventive. He wouldn't of thought of anything like that honestly.

He's always making sure you've got the supplies you need. Is your marker running out of ink? Do you have enough paper? Are you good?

He finds it so endearing as well. It's charming!

#x reader #x y/n #anon #anon ask #identity v #idv #norton campbell x reader #norton x reader #norton campbell #kevin ayuso #idv kevin x reader #kevin alonso #Kevin alonso x reader #the prospector #the prospector idv #the cowboy #the cowboy idv

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otakusparkle · 1 month

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Identity V Global 2024 Competition

Handicraft DIY and Illustration & Frame Contest

Join the competition here :

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sunflower1experiment · 2 years

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Keigan

She’s so beautiful, her beautiful crown…her gorgeous dress. She’s so sweet yet strict.

“WHY WONT SHE ACCEPT MY PROPOSAL.” Kevin pats my head, “Because….you literally barged In when she was getting settled and tried to fight Jack to prove yourself to her.”

“I’ll do it again!” I immediately head out the door and throw a chair at Jack. “F YOU MY WIFE IS MORE HOTTER THAN YOU YOUR ONCE FORM IS A HOAX!!!!! Aaghhhhhh!!” Keigan sighs, “Honestly…she’s so childish..”

I wave to Keigan, “HAI KEIGAN I LOVE YOU!” She glanced at me for a moment but chuckled softly and waved back.

“KEVINNNN SHE WAVEDDDD MARRIAGES IS NEEDED.” Kevin covers his mouth while I shook him, “I need to marry her!” Norton soon walks in but paused when we make eye contact. “Norton….”

“Before ya ask, no I ain’t doin no damn dance for you to consider it a mating dance to Keigan. That’s freakin weird- WHAT ARE YA DOIN!” Kevin and Norton watched me wave to Keigan.

“ILL OVERTHROW MARY FOR YOU MY LOVE!!” As I yelled a holographic form of Keigan appears and smacks me back. “Okay I deserved that…”

Later on while I silently dipped some of my hot cocoa I perk when the door closed and the woman of my dreams sat beside me. “Ms. Keigan!!” She puts her hand up, shushing me gently. “Just silence.”

I smile happily and gently admire her beauty. “…..Staring is rude…Plus I’m not the looker you think I am.”

“Yea you are.” The older woman stared down at me before chuckling lightly. “I’m thankful you find me attractive (Y/N)…I usually don’t care about others opinions…but I value yours a lot.” I gasp while she smiled at me with a genuine affectionate smile.

Sadly I ruined this moment by hugging her, at least I thought I did. But Keigan hugged me back…I’m so lucky.

#idv clerk #idv keigan #identity v x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv x reader #idv cowboy #idv prospector

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handsometheo · 26 days

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You've gotta hear me out on Ithaqua getting a little too possessive towards his survivor partner during a match ! Love your works btw <3

Mmmmmm Possessive Ithaqua 😍

Warnings: You'll never guess this one but Possessive behaviours

Pairing: Possessive! Ithaqua x Gn! Reader

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- He isn't sure what caused it. Maybe it's his own instincts telling him he needs to protect you, or maybe the manor is affecting him somehow..

- Your Team is quite possible the worst concotion of players to have paired with you. The Prospector, the cowboy and the "prisoner". He's semi-alright with Luca, he doesn't really do much harm. Its more a case of him being annoying to deal with on a good day.

- However Kevin and Norton strike Ithaqua the wrong way.

- He immediately finds Norton but instead turns his attention to finding you, just to make sure you stay away from them.

- He finds you. Quite easily actually. He comes across you helping Luca to decode who quickly runs off in favour of saving himself. Smart man, Ithaqua has to applaud him for using that mildly malfunctioning brain of his. He does have to break the connection, if only to delay your guaranteed escape.

- He lets you finish the cipher and simply stands around impatiently huffing and puffing to the side like a bratty child not getting enough attention. And that's accurate to a certain degree.

- once the cipher is done he tells you to go into a locker so he can pick you up and take you with him. You think nothing of it as this is fairly normal behaviour he likes to carry you around you've noticed. His little giggle when he picks you up just melted your heart.

- However. Unlike the usual routine, Ithaqua takes you to the nearest corner of the map and places you there before trapping you within his arms. His cloak making the two of you practically disappear, well.. you know as much as one can with the terror radius thing..

- His eyes are animalistic and his jaw clenched, but he makes no move to act on whatever violent act is forming in his head. Just pulls you to him as though he is trying to mesh with you.

- of course, he was mostly..., kind of, calm.

-Until the two idiots turned up. And by that I mean Norton and Kevin.

-Kevin lassoed you from Ithaqua's grasp, that alone made him screeched out in rage, but just to add some extra sourness to the situation, a magnet gets thrown towards him. Forcing him back into the wall.

- You struggle your way out of Kevins hold and push him away right as Ithaqua dashes at him. Norton quickly runs off to possibly hide in case he needs to really save, or possibly help Luca to continue saving.

- "IDIOTS, BOTH OF YOU!" You yell out to nobody in particular as Kevin had already run off. Ithaqua stays still for a moment, left eye twitching.

- He turns quickly. "Stay." He commands as though you are a dog awaiting your next trick. You're going to stay near, obviously, just maybe that Cipher off to the left will somehow get finished off...

- He dashes away in the direction Kevin left.

- As you're decoding, the prospector returns around the corner.

"Hey."

"Fuck off. That was stupid and you know it."

"Yeaaah.. but got the reaction I wanted. He's a tad bit, whats the word, protective? No. Possessive. Thats the one! Like he owns you."

"If he ever got asked if he owned me he definitely would answer like that.. It's a bit much at times, maybe next time to come running up to try and save when he's clearly not going to chair me. Luckily he seems to have lost Kevin."

The last Cipher gets completed by you and Norton but just before you can run to the exit, Norton says something that irks you.

"Geez, I didn't ask for your life story.. no need to keep going on..."

Yoou dont even initially intend to do it but you're hand reaches out to slam his head against the nearest wall to temporarily stun him.

"Not so fun now is it.."

In the distance a pissed off roar can be heard from Ithaqua, who you can assume just missed hitting the now escaped Kevin and Luca.

"Now, we're gonna surrender." You tell the prospector sternly

"Why would I do tha-"

You grab his ear and stare at him, "Consider it your apology to Itha. Believe me Kevin's going to deal with far worse."

Quiet grumbles are all that are heard from the disgruntled ex-miner.

----

Hope you enjoyed :) I partially forgot what I was writing halfway through but I loved writing this ♡

#x reader #fanfic #idv x reader #idv ithaqua #idv night watch #idv nightwatch #idv night watch x reader #idv nightwatch x reader #idv ithaqua x reader #ithaqua x reader #night watch x reader

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deadboyfriendd · 1 year

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Cochise l: Nellie

Summary: A dark stranger blows into town, bringing Hell with him. Little did he know, Hell was already here, in the form of you. The air here is stale and the residents stagnant. This town was as wild as the west was able, and you are the most wild thing about it.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Outlaw/Doc Holliday!Eddie Munson x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, Sherrif!Steve (he has a mustache), guns and gun violence, death of minor original characters, period-appropriate death, drug use, angst, fluff, save a horse, ride a cowboy, wet dream, smut included, feminine rage embodied and I gave her a gun

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 4.4k

Author's Note: This is for Drac <3 thank you for beta reading!

Find the series masterlist here!

When the dust blew in from the East, Hell came with it.

And Hell hath no fury like a woman’s reproach.

1890. From the ashes of the Civil War rose a phoenix of economic expansion and spurs the great migration west. Farmers, ranchers, prospectors, killers and thieves seek their fortunes. Cattle drovers turned cow towns into armed camps with murder-rates higher than those of modern-day New York or Los Angeles. Silver is discovered in Arizona, and the prospectors dragged their young wives and their Parisian fashions with them. Siphoned together out of greed, hundreds of Texas outlaws banded together to forge a new way forward, resulting in the birth of early organized crime.

Out of this chaos came the great legendary lawmen, and none as mean as you.

The air was stale this time of year, heavy enough to flatten a lizard, when the turn of the season brought the green back to the ironwoods and the snakes back from their hides. When it brought the heat back with a haughty laughter and a heart full of vengeance. The sun cast down a glare that warped the mirage of the desert backdrop of Cochise County, turning from a comforting radiation to a wasp sting when the night turned. The cereus blossom fragrant with rot that filled the stagnant night air and its timely beauty– and ultimate untimely death.

He reaped a certain morosity with him, spurs scraping across the floor like a toll, steps sure as snow in the northern country– as they dragged the dust from his heels eastward. His skin was of alabaster, and his clothes of obsidian. He was not from here, and it drew a shudder from the mesquite doors upon their sun-dried hinges. The dirty faces of prospectors, drunks, and cattle drovers turning to peer at him under sweat-laden brows.

The Whispering Sands was not the ritzy bar, no, that was the bar located in the lobby of the Grand Hotel up the holler. No, Your dealer was as straight as a Christmastime wreath, your doors hung as crooked as your dealer, and if you didn’t carry when you walked through, you had spares. There would be no clean men and women with their Parisian dresses and costly hat pins occupying this place. This was the lowest of the low.

He peers at you from under the brim of a coal-stained, honest-to-God gunslinger wool Stetson, lined with the hammered silver and turquoise-inlaid band. It laid flat across the top and around the brim. You hadn’t seen one like it since your wedding night on the ritzy hardwood grounds of the Grand Hotel herself. He takes a seat in a singular fell swoop, frock coat flaring outwards and casting a soft breeze over your presence. Single-breasted, large notch lapels. Beneath it, his dark pinstripe trousers folded under the weight of his body, the silver brocade vest above the black cravat remaining stiff. From where your eye connected with him, you could see the nickel plating of a Colt 1873 single action revolver, sheathed under the oiled ellipse of the leather-bound shoulder holster. It was apparent he wasn’t here to push cattle.

It was a fleeting gaze, the kind that rattle each of your vertebra and settled in your coccyx. A single golden curl slipped over a broad shoulder and swung heavy in the tension between your two bodies.

There was a resonant patriarchal tenor that buzzed amongst the patrons in this space, tense on the outcome and flat-lining in deliverance. They tried to avert wandering gazes from this new resident— strung together words in staccato, interrupted by morbid curiosity and on-looking eyes. Michael Doten– amicably monickered “Mudsill”, shattered this hum like china. He was a worm of a man, slimy in all of the worst ways, and, on this day in particular, aptly under the impression of laudanum and drink. He shared these sympathies with his own father– a man no more than fifteen years his senior.

He slinked through the door with the demeanor of an old tom-cat, crooked in stride and greasy to the touch— not that you could fathom anyone wanting to touch him at all. He demanded a house whiskey with a slovenly belch– a concoction made from your own sarsaparilla, burnt raw sugar, and chewing tobacco.

“Michael, I’d say you’ve about had enough today.” You chided, firm in your answer. The stranger peered a doting gaze towards you, then turned it toward ‘Ol Mudsill from a downturned hat– wistful in demeanor and daring in residence. He watched as Michael cast a thumb of brown saliva onto your floor, intentionally ignoring the existence of the spitoon a mere few feet from it.

He sneered towards you through leather-laden eyelids, a protuberance straight from the aforementioned spittoon, and filled with piss and vinegar, “Now,” He started, “ – if I wanted an old bitch telling me what I can and can’t drink, I would have considered marrying.” It was a slimy statement with a profound lack of remorse. It dripped from the gaps of his rotting teeth like a tar.

“I wouldn’t marry you, even if I was fixin’ to face death herself.” It wasn’t the first time you had denied him a drink, nor was it the first time he had spoken ill toward you. You doubted it would also be the last. You were a harum-scarum, devil-may-care woman, tough as nails and pretty as a mink stole.

“You don’t listen too good, now do you?” Mudsill spit back, standing now. Your fingers grazed the pearl handles of the Remington Model 1890 tucked away in the fold of your dresses. You hoped to God you didn’t have to use it.

Before ‘Ol Mudsill could think of something to say back, the dark stranger stood, “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”

“Is that a fact?” Mudsill raises a wiry brow towards the man, standing erect in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s a fact.” He said back, quietly. It was a discerning quiet, the kind where you figure trouble might be brewing.

“Well, for a man that don’t go heels, you run your mouth kinda reckless there, don’t ‘ya?” The stranger said, standing a little more erect– like he was fixing for trouble, though, by the context of the rest of the conversation, you’d say trouble had already been brewing. Now, you waited for the pot to boil over, “No need to go heel to get the bulge on a tub like you, huh?”

Mudsill glared toward him though tight lids, a reckless abandon only a drunk could possess, “Is that a fact?”

“That’s a fact.”

“Well, I’m ‘real scared.” Musill replied with a bobbling nod of his head, reaching for the firearm tucked away behind his waistband.

“Damn right, you’re scared. I can see that in your eyes.” The stranger followed the movement of his hand momentarily, eyes settling over the worn wood of the stock before meeting back up with his eyes, “Yeah, go ahead, skin it. Skin that smoke-wagon and see what happens.”

“Listen Mister, I’m gettin’ awful tired of you–” He was cut off, the stranger landing a stinging, open-palmed blow to his face.

“I’m gettin’ tired of your gas, now jerk that pistol and go to work.” Mudsill stared back, stunned. Frozen like a scared lizard. Another blow. “I said throw down, boy.” A third blow landed across his cheek, harder this time. You could see where the blood filled his mouth and covered his teeth. “You gonna do something or just stand there and bleed?”

“No?” The stranger raised an eyebrow, reaching upwards to put a forceful hand on mudsill’s shoulder, “Now, come on, Junior.”

The wire snapped behind ‘Ol Mudsill’s eyes, and with a sleight of hand, he reached for the worn pistol tucked into his overcoat. The dark stranger was fast, but you were faster. The pearl grips cold and smooth against the sweat of your palms. Quickly and in one motion, you stepped out from the bar, hand forced steady only in fear alone.

“You’re bluffing.” Michael sneered towards you, taking a step forward, closer to you with the barrel now in your direction. It was enough for the stranger to bear his arms as well, though, he wouldn’t need them today. The barrel met Michael’s forehead.

“I don’t bluff.” Your thumb met the hammer, pulling it back enough for a deafening swell click, “Now your family may be back to rush me, but that won’t stop me from blowing a canoe through your head first, y’hear?”

His eyes widened, and he pulled the barrel back from you, finger leaving the sheath of the trigger and thumb only staying tucked around the grip enough to keep it held.

“Don’t come back here. Ever.” You ordered, and he nodded slightly.

“Yes’m”

The stranger spoke then, pistol still planted firmly against the back of the offender, “And you’re gonna drop that weapon right here, Michael.” He ordered.

The worn colt clattered against the floor as he tossed it from his waist-height to the ground. The stranger took this as the opportunity to grab Michael by the collar and drag him out the front doors like a calf. You could see the durst stir from outside, but didn’t sense a further commotion. You sat idly in one of your stools, letting free an exasperated sigh as you threw your head down against the bar. You didn’t sign up for this when you found yourself out west.

You felt the stock of a pistol press into the meat of your upper arm, “Here. Keepsake. Hang it over the bar, Nellie.” The stranger spoke back to you, sliding the firearm across the worn mesquite bar top.

You raised a brow at him, more at the moniker, but also at his enthusiasm, “Nellie?”

“I had a horse like you once,” He released a breathy laugh between his words, maybe more nervous at the fact that he was comparing you to a horse, “ —even after she broke she was meaner than hell, but prettier than a mink stole. It’s a pleasure, Mrs–”

He thought it was foolish, comparing you to that mean old mare, but he didn’t have time to dote on it before you stopped him mid-sentence.

“Ms.” You corrected.

He couldn’t help the way his eyes flitted down to the ring on your finger, a single thin gold band that he dwelled on for just long enough for you to notice the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Dead.” You clarified, and he felt his heart contract as the word left your lips.

“Sorry to hear that.” He dips his head low, only now taking off the Stetson to greet you properly, “Name’s Munson. Edward Munson.”

You shook your head, forcing that still-bruising ache away to push a smile, “Ain’t no changin’, may God have willed it, Mr. Munson.”

He matched your smile, handsome cheeks creasing deeply around the curvature of his mouth, “Just Edward will do, ma’am.”

You pulled open the humidor, nimble fingers gracing along the stack of cigars beneath its lid. You chose the one with the cleanest-looking wrapping, one that looked sufficient enough as a thank-you, before offering it to him. He took it with a nod of his head, thick fingers wrapping around the base gently before pulling the kerosene vase near him. You watched the smoke roll from between his lips in a vapid crescendo, all too graceful and all too beautiful.

“I take it you're not a prospector?” You questioned him gently, voice sure, yet smaller than his resonating alto.

He laughed softly, the kind that heaves itself from the chest. Hearty, “No ma'am.”

“Then how does someone like you find yourself in a place like this?” You leaned an elbow on the bar, chin resting firmly in the warmth of your palm. You tried to ignore the sweat building between the flesh.

He looked down at the cigar between his fingers, twirling it around and feeling the paper it was rolled in, “Well I find I could ask you the same thing–”

The bell above the door was shrill in the staleness of the air, the resonance of the prior entanglement floating back up in a cloud in an attempt to re-settle over the old furniture like silt. The man that waded through its wake was tall, but not gangly, no, he did not share the demeanor of a scarecrow. He looked like he meant business.

You pulled your attention away from Edward for a brief moment, your eyes tearing from his personage and settling over the familiar face, “Hello, Sheriff.”

“Hello, ma’am.” The sheriff tipped his hat towards you in greeting, peering briefly at the man sat at the bar in front of you, “‘Ol Mudsill seems pretty shaken up, did somethin’ happen again?”

“Nothin that Edward here couldn’t handle.” You watched as his eyes flicked back and forth between you and Edward, like he was trying to piece a puzzle together but there were too many missing pieces, “Sheriff, this is Edward Munson, just unloaded from the train in Tucson.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” He reached a broad hand out to meet with the sheriff’s.

He accepted the offer, hands locked together in a firm grip, “Steve Harrington.”

“Pleasure.” Edward mentioned, politely.

“You have a place to stay, Edward?” He asked, hand still interlocked with his for a brief moment.

“Not as of yet. Know of anyone housing?”

“I’d say the Grand Hotel just across the way.”

The walk to the other side of the road is brief, but the sun beat down against Eddie’s back like a brand– the eyes that followed his movement, the hands that held the iron. The dust kicked up behind him and collected at the bases of his boots seemed to slow his stride as he sunk into its softness. He would have to have them polished tomorrow.

Steve turned to him, boots casting a hollow thud as they stepped up onto the decking of The Grand Hotel, “I am inclined to ask, what exactly happened back there?”

Eddie cleared his throat, righting himself, “Just some drunk. Got all riled up when she wouldn’t serve him and started waving his gun around.”

Steve shook his head, removing his hat to run a finger through the hair beneath it, sand ripplying against his scalp beneath his finger, “Christ, well, thank you for handling that for her. She’s been through too much this year.”

“She dealt with that right on her own, sheriff, the only part I took part in was getting him out.”

Their boots made a clunk against the sun-rotted wood on the staircase of The Grand Hotel, stairs creaking in affliction. There was a moment of silence between the two men, tense and fleeting, like there was still something to be said.

“Her husband died last spring.” Steve finally mentioned, understanding that it wasn’t his place to tell.

“She mentioned it.” Steve felt a relief at him knowing. He didn’t want to be the one to have to bear the shock of the statement.

He sighed before continuing, “Shot and killed on that bar floor. ‘Couple of bandoleros robbing the place.”

“Chist–- She seemed capable.” Eddie mentioned to him, raking his hair back under his hat. He felt the sweat bead around where the band met his skin.

“But still, no woman should ever have to bury her husband.” The sheriff said, reaching up to place nimble hands on his hips, “‘Specially not that young.”

The Grand Hotel is the essence of luxury in the west. Well, as luxurious as they could ship by train. Mahogany covered the expanse of the palace in a grandeur scale, only being broken by the pin-striped wallpaper covering the upper half of the wayne-scotted wall on the second floor. The taxidermied elk that hung above the bartop was shipped from the northern country, as were many of the axis and whitetail deer that hung on other walls.

This seemed to be the only place in this town that a fine layer of dust hadn’t settled over.

The velveteen nature of the drapery that hung over the stage to the left in a heavy abismality had remained nearly untouched by the traces of the desert around it. The gold of the drawstrings that held them back still contained the luster under the light.

He couldn’t help but to search for you in the madness of coiled, unabashedly tentative curls piled on the heads of the women in the large bustles that scraped between tables and each other. You looked like you belonged here, but he knew where you would be.

This night’s show had ended already, the lingering patrons also taking residence within the palace. The backing curtain drawn to a close and the actors retired to their quarters. Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, overrun, overplayed. Edward thought about it. Of all the things in the world to know, why learn The Devil’s craft? He figured if it was the only thing left to know, he’d probably learn it, too.

There is a man of about five foot, ten inches sat at the bar, elbows rested against the glossy finish of the bartop. He is a burly man, Eddie can see that even from his sitting position. Steve guides Eddie towards him, taking his own seat next to him. Eddie stayed standing.

He looks back behind him, Steve muttering a few words that Eddie couldn't seem to hear over the drabble of lobby patrons, “Milt. County Marshall.”

He sticks a rough hand out, and Eddie takes it in a firm clasp.

“Edward Munson.” He shakes his hand once, Milt was a man of few words.

Steve buys Eddie a drink. A golden bourbon, not watered down like many of the bars out west did for reserve. Real golden bourbon. An import. A thanks.

They settled on a less-occupied corner of the palace, one that lacked faro tables and drunk patrons. On the opposite side of the baby grande that played anything its player knew how.

“Her husband was a good man.” Steve said between sips, sweat dripping down the crystalline glass like glitter, “Too good if you’d ask me. It’s what got him killed in the first place.”

He felt the pang in his chest, a tightening of muscles like tears, “It’s a shame. Pretty woman like that having to run that place by her lonesome.”

Steve chucked a bit in agreement, looking back over his shoulder like you would somehow appear, “That isn’t by our choice. She could have her pick if she wanted it.” He took another sip of his drink, and Eddie knew he was right. You were pretty, sullen skin like satin, hair like ribbon. He’d pay all of the money in his pocket just to touch.

“She doesn’t?” Eddie questioned, looking over to meet Steve’s eyes.

“I’d reckon not.”

He tried not to think about it, instead focusing on the piano. He watched the woman sat on top, the way the lace of her undergowns flowed upwards with the swing of her ankles. He watched the man play with skilled– albeit drunk– fingers.

This place was lively, perhaps a little too lively for the hour. People still yelling obscenities and praises over faro, ice in glasses. He felt the sweat from the glass beneath his fingers, and it matched the band of it building beneath his cap. His collar felt tight, like someone had been pulling it from the back. Shouldn’t it have gotten cooler when the sun went down?

“I’d reckon I’d better turn in for the night.” He said suddenly, placing the glass down on the bar in front of him, about a milliliter of fluid left watered-down and pooling at the bottom.

He ascended the mahogany staircase to his quarters, where he would retire for the night. However, as he stripped himself of his frock coat and underclothes, he couldn’t help to peer towards the luminescent glow coming from The Whispering Sands upper floor across the bend.

The curtains billowed outwards towards the street below, casting a light over the sand beneath it like a halo. White linen backlit by yellow butane lighting. And there you sat, all woman. He’d have half a mind to buy you some night clothes, and the other half a mind to burn them if you even had them.

He watched the way your skin rippled at your lower back as your bare skin pressed against your vanity stool, and the way your skin stretched over your shoulder blades as you pulled your hair to the side, raking through it with the brush in front of you. Your lips fell into a supple pout in concentration, and your lashes kissed your cheeks as you looked down. He could feel the windowsill digging into his palms, it grounded him– kept him from free-floating into the stagnant desert air.

The Grand Hotel is a loud place, and it never sleeps. The faro games did not stop on his account, and he didn’t expect them to. He closes his eyes, a glass breaks. A fight breaks out downstairs in a triad of commotion, shuffling, and yelling. This was the first time he had been in a bed in days, yet, it felt horrendously unceremonious. Sleep would not evade him in the way he willed it.

The flooring creaked, drunk patrons hit the wall outside of his quarters with intense, muffled thuds. Two people in the suit next to him were clearly of relation. He tried to ignore the way the oak headboard creaked and hit the wall in a rhythmic fashion. He tried his hardest not to think of you.

This place did not sleep, and he knew he wouldn’t either. So instead, Edward collected his hat and gun, pulling his trousers back on and lazily doing his shirt back up.

The night air had cooled some, less blistering than when the sun was out, yet it remained stale. He walked a bit, eyes still shimmering with the adjustment of light from the palace to the stark darkness of the desert. Light traveled a lot further here, darkness even further. The hum of the palace dimmed as the distance between them grew, air heavy like a barrier that stopped the noise from traveling.

He settled himself in the soft sand beneath him, back planted firmly against the knotty base of that twisted old ironwood. Someone else still awake at this unholy hour plucked delicately at old piano keys– these ones slightly more out of tune and reverberated off of the walls with a static hum that resonated through the otherwise empty streets. Sleep evaded in a thankless percussion.

And there you were.

He allowed his fingers to trail over the delicate expanse of your shoulder, brushing soft curls over its bridge. Soft presses of his mouth trailed from your year to the valley of your clavicle. He pressed your gowns down your shoulder as he went, the loose garment sliding off with ease.

In your glorious, supple nature. All woman all the time. Your hands, nimble and soft, were forceful against his chest as you pushed him back against plush white linens. Fingers as sure as death and as right as rain. The haze from the butane lamp cast a glow around you, baby hairs illuminating around your head like a halo.

Slowly now, but with an urgency, you right yourself in between his knees, undoing the buttons of his shirt in a way that made him want to beg just to feel a finger brush against his skin. He whined as he watched you with wide eyes.

His buckle made impressions on the inside of your thigh, a welcome breeze blew through the open window, gracing the overlaying flesh in a ritual of human intimacy. Songs of “Oh- Gods” and small giggles creating perfect songs- a gathering drum backing and an underlying hum of the desert around you. You could feel his hands on your back, fingers his fingers unwrapping you from linen bed sheet confines and introducing you to your own bedroom like an heirloom– a home in which you yourself haunted. The palms of your hands feeling the smooth surface of stone beneath the skin, and the dewey droplets from his own flesh dampened them with a waxy residue.

His fingers pressed firmly into the plush of your outer thighs, and your skin was soft. Calves skin, another import. Too soft for this place. Too soft for this sadness.

“So soft.” He whispered, voice a tenor to its usual pitch.

He watched where your bodies connected, the way you slid up and down on him, the way his fingers rippled your skin where they dug in, the gyration of your hips. Your hair is down this time, braid long since combed through, and the ends of it tickle as they brush against him.

“God, Nellie.” He isn’t particularly introspective or anything, but he does know that he’ll never feel something like this again.

Your tender touch a velvety petal trailed down the expanse of his chest where it heaves, nothing left to impede your touch. No overcoats, no holster or gun. Your hands like the claws of the bobcat pawing into the sand where his heart lay in an unmarked grave.

“Edward,” You whispered against the shell of his ear, his hands pressing the center of your back to bring you close against your chest. It was a plea. It read like a prayer. “Take me, please.”

His upward thrust slowed from long, meaningful bass crescendos to harsh uneven staccatos. Your breaths became erratic in nature to match. Your release washed over you like a storm, rolling and violent and all at once. His own followed suit.

Edward realized then that this was how the west would be won. If it wasn’t, he’d wage the war himself.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #Spotify #outlaw!eddie #cowboy!eddie

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saeyv · 5 months

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Requesting + Blog FAQ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

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Blog FAQ

"What do you blog about on well… this blog?"

I write Identity V x reader headcanons, shorts, and drabbles! I will potentially post some art and stories of my OC that I created for the game as well, and rarely will I share my Canon Character x OC works.

"Whats is your gender focus for readers, Saey?"

I try really hard to make the majority of my works gender-neutral so my headcanons are available to a wide audience of people. I do not often write male!readers as I am not comfortable with it. I do write a good portion of female!readers, however. It just depends on the vibe I try to go for in a headcanon and for comfort's sake!

"What characters will you write about?"

To be honest, I am not sure •᷄ࡇ•᷅ I really like writing boys, and I am looking forward to writing a lot about my favorite character Joker! However, this doesn't hinder me from writing about really cute girls! Below, I will provide a list of all the characters I am willing to write about, so please reference it before requesting, or your request can and will be deleted! ♡

"Do you provide warnings on your headcanons?"

I always have and always will! The format above the image space will always contain the prompt/request, the hunter/survivor and the identity, warnings, the reader's gender, and an author's note!

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Requesting FAQ

"How can I request?"

I would really prefer it if you sent a request in the following format:

Provide the hunter or survivor's name + alias [example: Can you write for Joker (Weeping Clown)...]

Provide if you would like headcanons, shorts, or a drabble*

Provide the prompt/idea you have [1-5 sentence preference!]

Provide any additional comments you have for me please!

I would prefer if requests were formatted this way for the sake of clarity. If you provide too much in the prompt/idea, chances are I will not respond to it, as I like room to have some creative freedom! Plus, requesting in this format makes it much easier for me to know what you would like!

*Guide to type requesting: Headcanons are bullet pointed and short, with summarized ideas of how I see the relationship between the reader and a character. They do not have fleshed out sentences and tend to be brief, short, and simple; Shorts are short stories that are bullet pointed! They can be easily compared to oneshots, except on my blog I bullet point them to make it easier to read; Drabbles are my own ideas that are brief and unformatted entirely (<100 words) or fleeting ideas without a guided plot. They are just for me to test new ideas I never tried before.

"When will I be taking requests?"

I usually will let you all know in a blog post so be on the lookout for those, because they will pop up! Usually I will take 3-5 requests at a time, depending on what is requested

"Are there limitations to how much or what I request?"

I tend to not have any limitations when it comes to what my readers can or cannot request, let alone how many requests you send to me! If you have seen my past works, you probably know I am a dark / 18+ / angst writer first and foremost. Don't let that stop you from requesting fluff or soft content though, because there is a chance I can create something if I am inspired! However, I will not write any mature headcanons for canonically underage Identity V champions. There will be no exceptions to this.

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Characters I Write! (Preferences Highlighted!)

Lucky Guy (Lucky/Boy)

Lawyer (Freddy Riley)

Gardener (Emma Woods/Lisa Beck)

Mercenary (Naib Subedar)

Mechanic (Tracy Reznik)

Forward (William Ellis)

Priestess (Fiona Gilman)

Cowboy (Kevin Ayuso)

Female Dancer (Natalie/Margaretha Zelle)

Seer (Eli Clark)

Embalmer (Aesop Carl)

Prospector (Norton Campbell)

Enchantress (Patricia Dorval)

Postman (Victor Grantz)

Gravekeeper (Andrew Kreiss)

"Prisoner" (Luca Balsa)

Entomologist (Melly Plinius)

Batter (Ganji Gupta)

Novelist (Orpheus)

Weeping Clown (Joker)

Professor (Luchino Diruse)

Antiquarian (Qi Shiyi)

Composer (Frederick Kreiburg)

Journalist (Alice DeRoss)

Hell Ember (Leo Beck)

Smiley Face (Joker)

The Ripper (Jack)

Geisha (Michiko)

Photographer (Joseph)

Evil Reptilian (Luchino Diruse)

Bloody Queen (Mary)

"Disciple"/"Herald" (Ann)

Violinist (Antonio)

Sculptor (Galatea)

Nightmare (Orpheus)

Clerk (Keigan Nicholas Keogh)

Hermit (Alva Lorenz)

Fool's Gold (Norton Campbell)

#saeyv

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diggity-didge · 2 years

Note

Hohohoh Here I am ! I wang to see the concept sketches ! And also, how did you decide which side characters got which jobs in the castle ? (Like cook Demi or head butler Norton !)

Alrighty!! I'm gonna start with the second question: I decided based on their original job title. Demi is "the barmaid", so I converted it into "cook". Norton was the head butler since he's kinda the male face of the game, if that makes sense? Emily easily could have replaced Ada as the court physician, but I feel like she's got a motherly quality better for being head housemaid and the maternal figure in William's (and Ganji's) life. Characters like Kevin and Robbie were kinda assigned on personality- Kevin is the friend William needs, and there aren't any cowboys in medeival Europe.

Here are some concept sketches, bad handwriting and all:

#idv batter #idv prospector #idv forward #idv doctor #emily dyer #william x ganji #william ellis #willganji #norton campbell #idv cowboy #kevin alonso #ganji gupta

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viea-art · 3 years

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FINALLY gonna do something with this blog so take these idv doodles i just made on microsoft paint

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idv-lovemail · 3 years

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Idv-Lovemail’s Writing Masterlist

art credit to me @minoux-x ☆ (^ω<) there may be some link errors and i might be missing some here (let me know in an ask if you spot any errors please!) but i will be updating this every so often~

Survivors

-Gravekeeper

S/O who has vitiligo

Reader who blames themselves a lot

Aesop/ Andrew/ reader in a polyam relationship

Taking care of sick reader

Jealousy

Cuddling

NS/FW

Affectionate fem reader

reader who has cats

-Prospector

When they want attention/affection

NS/FW

NS/FW cont.

Date headcanons

-Prisoner

When they want attention/affection

Jealousy

Cuddling

NS/FW

reader who has cats

crushing/relationship

-Mercenary

When they want attention/affection

Cuddling

NS/FW

Fem rescuer reader

-Embalmer

Romantic Headcanons

Jealousy

NS/FW

Cuddling

Reader who wears lolita fashion

Aesop/ Andrew/ reader in a polyam relationship

reaction to their S/O cheating on them

yandere headcanons

hickies

intimacy

-Acrobat

NS/FW

NS/FW cont.

Reader who wears lolita fashion

-Postman

NS/FW

Jealousy

Cuddling

reader who has cats

-Painter

making up with his S/O after they got into a fight

Jealousy

NS/FW

-Mind’s Eye

S/O with Albinism

inventor S/O who makes glasses to reverse her blindness

-Cowboy

NS/FW fem reader

Kevin/ Demi/ Jose x reader polyam headcanons SFW + NS/FW

making up with s/o after an argument

jealousy

crushing

-First Officer

NS/FW

Kevin/ Demi/ Jose x reader polyam headcanons SFW + NS/FW

romantic headcanons

Hunters

-Violinist

reader self care

NS/FW cont.

NS/FW

general headcanons with fem reader

-Wu Chang

Flying guillotine x reader who works for Lady 13 in the tea house

Yandere Flying Guillotine

Yandere Flying Guillotine NS/FW

NS/FW

playing the pocky game with reader

in love with survivor reader

-Photographer

reader scared of photo world

Moonlight gentleman NSFW cont.

Moonlight Gentleman SFW and NSFW

reaction to their S/O cheating on them

cuddling

relationship headcanons cont.

relationship headcanons

baking sweets with his S/O

-Disciple

romantic headcanons

reader who has cats

-Evil Reptilian

NS/FW

-Bloody Queen

NS/FW

cross dressing S/O

courtship headcanons

romantic headcanons with michiko

#identity v #identity v imagines #identity v headcanons #idv x reader #identity v x reader #writing masterpost #writing masterlist

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yourfavgeishamain · 2 years

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WRITING CRITERIA

Again,hello! I will be writing NSFW Idenity V Headcanons and One Shots. But here is the criteria for it.

MINORS DNI

Characters I WONT write smut/lime about

Axe Boy (He’s like 7?)

Dream Witches Servant/Yima (She looks like a child but is also canonly an old man)

Mad Eyes/Burke (He’s about to expire cmon now)

Guard 26/Bon Bon (He’s a robot…)

Breaking Wheel/Polun(How would this even work,)

Wax Artist/Phillip(He’s a racist.)

Sculptor/Galatea(I will write fluff about her just not smut.)

Geisha/Michiko(Fluff will be written i’m just not comfortable writing smut about her)

Little Girl/Memory(Shes like 4/5/6)

Soul Weaver(She’d be hard to write about since all her limbs have sharp ends.)

Thief

Lawyer

Lucky Guy

Wilding

Magican

Characters I CAN write smut/angst/fluff/lime about

Gamekeeper/Bane

Smiley Face

Hell Ember/Leo

The Ripper/Jack

Violinist/Antonio

Photographer/Joseph

Evil Reptilian/Luchino

Nightmare/Orpheus

Undead/Percy

Wu Chang/Xie Bian/ Fan Wuiju (With him you can request one shots with only one of them in it if you’d like.)

Prospector/Norton

Seer/Eli

Gardener/Emma (Only girl x girl.)

Bloody Queen/Mary

Naaid/Grace

Displince/Ann

Cowboy/Kevin

Gravekeeper/Andrew

and to wrap it up here littewrly like almost all idv male survs

and almost all idv girl survs

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otakusparkle · 2 years

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Identity V x Primaniacs Perfumes Line up series 2

Series 1

Series 3

Buy them here :

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sunflower1experiment · 3 years

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Identity v x animal like reader

Batter

The first time seeing (Y/N), they came in somewhat half naked. They had a top with some shorts but that was it, the female survivors immediately took them to another room and dressed them up, they hum and hugged Patricia and Fiona. Ganji couldn’t help but watch in fascination.

(Y/N) would eat their food on the ground, which led to Emily almost crying and reassuring them to not do so. Ganji then helped the so called animal use a fork.

Margaretha tried to help them out, which was hard at the least. The whip wasn’t cutting it and the batter caught the whip a few times when she used it, “Quit using the whip and use physical affection.” He goes up to (Y/N) who just growled then flinched when he placed a hand on their head. “…..” suddenly they calm down and sigh, he then moves his hand around to which they respond jubilantly and start hopping at him.

During matches (Y/N)’s rescue badge came in handy: they used this so called animal stance to scare the hunters for five seconds, or when they were near a survivor they’d grab their hand and run away. In some cases when Ganji played with them he’d use his cricket skills and see how far they’d run after the ball, Michiko would even use her butterflies to entertain them.

But how did they get together? It was simple: (Y/N) spoke, they aren’t stupid they just struggle to comprehend who wants to hurt them and who doesn’t. They leaned close to the batter and nuzzled up to his chest. “Companion.” He nods. “I’m your bonded companion.”

He doesn’t pet you: it hurts when (Y/N) try to get validation from him but he doesn’t see the point, so instead the batter hugs them close.

Kisses: are not his suite, in some cases when they’re alone yes but publicly? Nah, only holding hands. On some occasions you’re busy hugging him close and humming happily. That is until his throws the ball far and you chase it.

Bath times? Okay so….they like bath time but he usually has to watch because you make a mess with the bubbles. “Ah-oh. Ganji…” he walks in. “(Y/N) WHAT THE FU-“ later on Martha finds them pouting and being dried off. “Bubble explosion.” Ganji grumbled. “(Y/Nnnnnnnn).” He pulled their cheek gently

Jose

You wandered in with a water dome over your head, the way you breathed was slow. And hoarse. A few times you’d stumble a bit and get knocked over by Mike or Kreacher, Jose helped you up but then you’d back away shyly. “Hhhhh….” Your breathing startled Jose greatly.

One day in a match however you went missing, everyone searched for you while the match was already over. Naiad swam around with Fiona and Explorer by her side, Jose then sighed and sat by the beach. “Where did they go?” Suddenly the water splashed. Your form came into view and you swam gracefully through the water.

Naiad hums, “They’re- a sea animal…that explains a lot actually.” Jose stands up then he stumbled back when you jump out with a fish in your mouth and land in his arms. You swallowed the fish and started shaking, “Freezing- freezing.”

Naiad carefully gave you the power to breath on land. Your breathing got better but you always trailed behind Jose then freak out when he stared, he chuckles whilst you hide then sets down a few fish bait. Of course you followed them wiggled your tail and pounced.

Turns out you’re badge for animal is a catfish. Well he calls you a catfish, your attitude says a lot. “Gero- Gero.” You bite Kevin by the leg, “OI- LET GO NO PUT MY SHOE DOWN HEY!” Jose gently sprays you with water then returns the shoe. “No.” You huff…then hug his arm with a pouty face.

He loves you but your fishy smell is going to be the bane of him. So he washes you with a specific type of flower, which is what Emma suggested, cherry blossom. You’d swim in the lake of blossoms then dive under water and immediately peek out and offer him gifts. “Babe- what is this?”

Your gifts are terrifying: last time you bought Jose a skull, “The souls of enemies…” you paw at the skull. “I love you.” Jose chuckles, “Love you to hun.”

Kurt

You walked in with scars all over your body, the survivors came close and you flinched then growled angrily before snapping at them. So Kurt did what anyone did, he used his hands and jabbed at a relax pressure point on your body. To which you fell in his arms and started calming down.

He showed you around the manor and a few times you’d wander off and then chase after Eli because of his owl, poor seer.

In matches your skill was to assist and rescue, but when Helena was endanger you ran over and took the hit which downed you both from Percy. He walked away seeing as you both were going to die but Helena ran off and looked for Kurt uninjured.

When he found your laying body he carefully healed the wounds on until you got up casually and start panicking. “Hey hey.” You usher the two decoders to run away, but Kurt just starts hugging you and crying. “I thought you were going to die!!!”

Needless to say he worries for you, and of course he likes you. Someone who listens to his stories and likes to chase him is obviously a friend, which is why he calls you. “My precious kangaroo!”

You call him: “Tiny treasure.” Then gasp when he turns small, “Tiny.”

Hugs give him hugs- no give you hugs: y’all hug each other a lot and it’s worrisome. He’s coming around the corner, a hug is around the corner, you’re trying to scare Vera? He’s hugging and carrying your wild form away.

William

You’re the little rabbit and he’s the bull. When you first came in that’s literally what Ms. Nightingale said, “Treat this bunny carefully. She’s quite fragile.” And you have a containment badge!?

William studied you form, you were so Lillyliver. At first it freaked him out but when the match came in you were moving two times faster than anyone else, you contained the hunter for two minutes then rested for awhile when they stopped following you.

After the matches with him your blushing face made him chuckle and admire how cute you were. “She’s so cute.” He plays with your hands, of course you let him but then when he compared his hands with yours something sparked.

“I…Like you.” His face flushed when you confessed. “Same here.” You hesitated but you carefully held his hand and then leaned into it happily. “This is nice.”

“Murro is missing and I think the others are gonna kill me.” You lean on him. “You won’t die, I think they were talking about Murro. Servais referred to him as the uncivilized man once.” He hugs you close by the waist. “I hope so.”

Bath time! You cuddle him, or you both take a shower and you wash his hair in silence. He starts a conversation occasionally and of course you happily respond, he can’t help but feel blessed with how you’ll listen and respond without feeling awkward.

Norton

It wasn’t intended but canary? And a miner: how did y’all not become kindred. Oh wait because you were fragile and a decoder, he found you useless until he saw your defense, which was to screech at the hunter. It caused them to not hear heartbeats and not teleport or hear ciphers.

Of course Norton found out it drained you of your speed so he helped out. Your chippy attitude most likely cheered him up until your eagle eye caught sight of the hunter, another thing that made him attracted to you.

Sometimes you lean in and preen his hair as a sign of affection but then you go as far as to wash his hair. He’d come out a bit salty but then you peck him on the cheek and he’s somewhat calm.

Can you fly? Heck no, you actually had to slap him gently for assuming that because you’re a reincarnation of a canary. You just had weak lungs, eagle eye and you screeched when the hunter was close. How dare he, “You’re being a tweety meanie.”

Norton is stuck hugging your waist while you pout. He loves you he swears, and you love him too: which is why you always cook for him, no one else. If they want food ask momma Martha.

On some occasions you sing lullabies so he’s calm his anxiety attacks or You’d wrap a blanket around him protectively. Norton appreciates your protectiveness but, you’re literally up to his chest the height difference always made the male weak. Whenever you tried punching him it’d come out weak and then you’d cry and hug him.

Since you’re small he makes you sit on his lap or lay on him. Big spoon you’re forever little spoon, unless he asks or you start whining. To which he caves and lets you nuzzle his neck, until you preen him again. “Woman I swear- HEY!” You Nom on his neck then smooch he’s a blushing mess now.

Kevin

Okay Kevin actually was protective of you, your doe eyes and the way you held yourself showed you were capable of staying safe but each hunter was attracted to you. Mainly on account of how you represent an actual doe, you used this skill to show yourself then hide away while the hunters search for you.

Whenever they found you they ballooned you easily. He’d lasso you out and then carry you away, usually when you’re exploring the manor you’d hold his hand. Kevin blushes at this, “Are you alright?” “Yea I’m fine, just admiring your beauty.”

Who said men can’t do hair, his hairstyles are so perfect. And you love his dreads, in some cases you absolutely distressed them because they’d get messy but he reassured you it’s supposed to happen.

Now for baths. You bathe in warm water on his chest while he’s washing up, in some occasions you’d wash his back but then he’d mischievous pour cold water on you.

So bath night is rare- (not really) every time y’all leave the bathroom he’s apologizing while laughing at your pouty face.

His hat being on your head is such a huge flustering moment for him, Kevin will probably hug you. Sit you on his lap or you both are sitting under a tree with him on your lap.

“I love you.” You say happily, he scoops you up. “I love you more my precious doe.”

#idv cowboy #idv explorer #idv x reader #idv headcanons #idv prospector #kevin ayuso #norton campbell #kurt frank #William Ellis #Jose Baden #Ganji Gupta #kevin alonso

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