#identity v painter x reader

[acosmicblizzard]

Hi Cosmic!! I have been looking at your work and I've liked it alot! (Ghost manor Au is my fav btw)

I haven't requested before but I'd like to request something now :D (You don't have to accept obviously:] )

I'd like to request Edgar Valden relationship headcannons....( romantic ) With a TWIST.

Edgar and reader face a fake friendly!! The survivors are up to your choice and the hunter is too. I haven't seen someone request something like this so I wanted to try!!

Putting everything aside you don't have to rush at all and take care for yourself before anything!! I wish the author a good day/night!

Hello! Thank you so much for the support, i'm very glad you like my ghost manor au series! I'll gladly accept this, sorry if it isn't up too your standards but hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Edgar and Reader against a fake friendly

Warnings: None

Story type: General hcs

Pairings/Characters: Edgar Valden - Painter x Gn!Reader, Margaretha Zelle - Female Dancer, Yidhra - Dream Witch, Demi Bourbon - Barmaid

Banner art credit: smol_kia on twitter

(possible ooc, made during school so possibly lower quality then my others works.)

It was a normal friendly match at first, Margaretha and you were decoding while the dream witch Yidhra stood nearby. Spraying back whenever the survivors sprayed at her and emoting back when they emoted at her. She had seen almost everyone that match other then Edgar who had been keeping his distance from the hunter and had been naturally distrustful of the dream witch. He had constantly been trying to whisk you away from everyone else. In reality, he just wanted to spend alone time with you and let the others decode, maybe even paint you due to the time he had In this match.

You and Margaretha talked as you decoded, joking around and laughing at what one another said. The female dancer continued making small discussion with you until suddenly the leaches Yidhra had on both you and Margaretha moved closer. You didn't think much of it until the leach suddenly swung on Margaretha and terror shocked her, the familiar sound of bells signaling the hunter gaining their persona ability ringing all throughout the map. At first you were confused, maybe Yidhra just wanted to hold Margaretha or wanted the points for downing someone? You went to go heal her until Yidhra swapped to the leach that had connected to you and swung on you as well.

You started getting suspicious of the dream witches intentions as both you and Margaretha were leached onto again. Both of the leaches were soon left inactive as Yidhra moved to find the other two survivors with the leaches standing as guards just in case one of you got up. This was the worst time ever to not run self pickup for some extra healing personas, you weren't sure if Margaretha had it either. You heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend shout "stay put I'm coming!" From a small distance away. At least the baron of the manor gave the survivors a form of communication the hunters could not hear, in this realm this form of communication was crucial. Not a second later you heard the voice of Demi shout "The hunter is nearby!" Edgar quickened up his pace and eventually arrived to where both you and Margaretha were downed.

He didn't pay any attention to Margaretha and started healing you first. "Dummy, how could you fall for that! It's Yidhra for gods sake!" Edgar shouted out trying to cover up the concern in his voice with irritation. He was honestly a bit pissed but not exactly at you, it was more directed towards Yidhra. He was irritated and annoyed at the fact this hunter decided to try and act merciful to only backstab people later. He's had to deal with a lot of that all throughout his life due to his status but having it be done to you made his blood boil. He finds it quite pathetic such a powerful god is resorting to this to win matches. He soon got you up and both of you went to heal Margaretha as you heard Demi get downed across the map. You needed to heal quickly and get these leaches removed as soon as possible. A few seconds later the barmaid was chaired as you got Margaretha up. The second you did Yidhra swapped back to one of her leeches and immediately went for Margaretha. You attention snapped back to Edgar as you told him to go save demi as you would focus on ciphers and supporting Margarethas kite when you could.

3 ciphers later and things weren't looking any better, Margaretha died, Demi was kiting for as long as she could on last chair, and Edgar was across the map from you working on a cipher. You were hoping both you and Edgar could get a prime in time for Demi as you typed on the ciphers keys, rapidly trying to decode it. You heard Edgar's cipher pop across the map as you shouted "Priming!" Hoping that Demi wouldn't get downed before you could prime the cipher. That hopeful wish wouldn't come true though, the barmaid was soon chaired and screamed as she got shot into the sky. You sighed and continued working on the cipher, slightly relieved it was almost finished. That relief was cut short though as you heard the sound and red cloud signifying a teleport. You panicked and ran from the cipher shouting that the hunter was nearby you. Edgar quickly responded with stay put I'm coming. The painter ran as fast as he could towards where your cipher was, as much as he wanted to support your kite and whisk you away from danger he couldn't. Minutes passed before you got downed by the dream witch and as soon as you were downed the primed cipher was popped and you were back up on your feet. As long as Edgar was able to get a exit gate open this could be a tie. Edgar soon opened a gate and kept saying follow me, running towards your location with a painting on the ready. 5 minutes of stressful kiting and close calls later you two barely squeaked by with a tie.

After the match ended, Edgar whisked you away to his room. The second the door closed behind the two of you Edgar was all over you, checking for any wounds that sustained after the matches. "I can't believe that woman, a god and she does this?! Simply pathetic!" You sighed and shook your head, "It's alright Ed, the match is over now. Just relax okay?" You put your hand over his as a slight blush came to the painters face. He quickly shook this off though and soon a frown came to his face. "Are you okay though, my muse?" It was rare for Edgar to express his emotions truly through words, mostly hiding his true emotions behind irritation and stubbornness. You smiled at him, "Yes I'm okay Ed,.I promise." A slight smile came to his face as he grasped your hand harder, silently whispering under his breath "that's good.." You two stayed like that for awhile, sitting silently next to each other as time eternally passed by.

#identity v #idv #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv scenarios #identity v scenarios #idv imagines #identity v imagines #identity v headcanons #idv headcanons #idv painter #identity v painter #idv painter x reader #identity v painter x reader #idv edgar valden #identity v edgar valden #idv edgar valden x reader #identity v edgar valden x reader

[idv-brainrot-go-brr]

LETSS GOOOO I LOVE YOUR WRITING AND HAVE BEEN WAITING!!! MOMENT OF TRUTH THOUGH-

Can I request a short fic Edgar x (GN) Hunter!Reader Where the Reader used to be a Student (University) But was forced to run away and escape to the manor (Perhaps partially motivated to by the Baron?) And they're extremely salty about Edgar's talents out of jealousy, but also can't deny his skill. (Doesn't have to be a happy fic whatever flows better!)

(I am unsure if you are comfortable with Surv x Hunter, so obviously if you aren't, obviously feel free to ignore!)

ALSO HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Pairing: Edgar x (gn)reader Content: jealousy, reader is low key not a good person but it's okay because they are gaslighting, gatekeeping and theybossing(?) Chapter:1/1(?) Word Count:1.5k A/N: Happy New Year! Yes, I am comfortable with Surv x Hunter, I don't mind at all but I'm not quite sure if this is what you wanted story-wise. So, sorry if I did it wrong.

Elegy

No matter what people say, everyone is secretly convinced they are deserving of success. There is selfishness in all people, a deep-rooted belief that the evil and unfairness of the world simply do not apply to oneself. The world can be cruel to others, it's none of one's concern as long as one remains blissfully untouched by the injustice of the Moirai.

It worked, for the most part, the blind naivety to believe that everything would work out in the end if only you worked hard enough. There was success until there wasn't, it worked until it didn't.

Plagiarism.

Unfounded accusations.

An infringement of veracity, deformation of the memory of Themis.

And yet it was enough to ruin your life forever. An accusation, nothing more, sufficiently ruined your academic career and made you lose everything. Ignoring fame and status, knowledge and education, pride and ego, 'everything' started as simple as losing your home. From one day to the other, you had nothing. No one. Nowhere. Within one day the world turned from a vast paradise of opportunity into a Gehenna of desperation.

The invitation from the manor was your only chance. It was a strange thought, that everyone else was here by their own choice. They were here because they wanted something, because they considered it an opportunity, while for you this was the only option. You had no alternative. Perhaps this added to your anger, your hatred, your acrimony, perhaps it was the very thing aiding you in bringing down your weapon again and again. Injury, incapacitation, elimination. Injury, incapacitation, elimination. Injury, incapacitation, elimination. You were cruel, you know you were. Did they fear you? Did they regret playing this game yet? Did they loathe you for the fate they brought upon themselves? It's easy to blame someone else for your own faults, and it's easy to vent your rage by violating something, someone, anyone, innocent.

You did not particularly care for their thoughts. In fact, sometimes you found yourself ignoring the fact that other people were capable of intelligent thought as well. They were irrelevant to you. Their thoughts and feelings, their hopes and desperations were all irrelevant to you. Injury, incapacitation, elimination. Repeat.

At first, you started each game with an incredible amount of anger. A rage that could have destroyed the whole world, instead it was inflicted upon merely four people, but over time it changed. Anger, hatred, dissipated to make way for a torturous void. Inflicting pain upon others, as satisfactory as it once had been, became nothing more than a routine. Once upon a time, 'mundane' had been studying, writing essays and attending lectures. Now, mundane life was violence.

Your change in temperament was welcomed by the survivors. Games against you were less of a certain death sentence now. They were still being hunted of course, but the fear of actually dying had disappeared.

That was until they gained a new teammate.

It was very hard to say what precisely ticked you off about Edgar Valden, but you quite immediately decided that you could not stand the man or anything he represented. He was snobby, arrogant and had experienced no hardship in his life. Everything he had had simply fallen into his hands just like that. He wasn't just born with the silver spoon in his mouth, but also with a maid next to him tasked to feed him for the rest of his life. Quite frankly, you found him to be insufferable. Just by existing. Consequently, he became your main target. In every match you had the displeasure of coexisting, the other players could sit back and relax because they knew you would go past them to get to him. Lord knows they didn't have enough team spirit to try to shield him from you.

You were four, maybe five meters from getting to him. A couple seconds away from delivering the final blow to knock him down. Matches are actually very quiet. Perhaps the focus on your task made you automatically ignore any background noises, but whenever you were chasing someone, the only thing you heard was the person in question and your own laboured breaths. You were so close now, about to bring your weapon down when he turned to place a painting down at the very last second. It stunned you, literally. First of all, where had this insufferable brat found the time to paint? You had been chasing him for a good while now, he really shouldn't have been able to. So there was that, but then there was the painting itself. It was as if your brain had found itself incapable of comprehending that something so outstanding had been created in such a short time frame. Undoubtedly, this painting neither held a lot of time dedication, nor a lot of focus, yet still, it was... stunning. Right, a stun, you had been stunned, this was a temporary effect, you needed to keep going. You almost had him. The second you realised that once again the little brat had gotten you, your weapon sliced through the canvas, and the second you managed to pry your eyes away, there was a palette crushing you. So this had been a strategic move. That little shit.

You recovered from the pain and broke the obstacle before moving on. Of course, that little shit had gotten quite some distance away now, but your determination was greater than his strength. So at last, you knocked him down and dragged him to the chair by his neck, no care for the fact that he was choking thanks to the nature of your grip. Hey, in your defence, you were not the one who'd chosen this carrying animation. It had been the Barron. The last cipher was popped merely a moment after you'd picked him up. Aw, they tried to save him. How cute. The painter was eliminated and you teleported to one of the exit gates, managed to knock down the mechanic before the gate was open and chaired her as the other player escaped. Really, the fact that you hadn't paid attention to who it even was was proof of the fact that your priorities in the game were questionable.

With teleport still on cooldown, you began your journey to the other end of the map. It lead you past the area where you'd almost gotten him earlier. The painting was still there, canvas torn, moisture from the grass seeping into it. Perhaps if you'd kept up your speed you could have turned your tie into a win, but you didn't. You altered your course towards the torn painting. The last person escaped and the world faded to black with your fingers clutching the destroyed piece of artwork.

"Miss, can I borrow a needle?"

The Geisha looked up in surprise. She sat on a pillow on the ground, embroidery threads and a pillow pierced with needles resting on the low table in front of her. You weren't known to be the most social one of the hunters. In fact, had she ever heard you talk before? She looked at you, crusted in dirt and blood from your last game, holding on to a painting that was undoubtedly created by the little artist from the other side of the manor.

Her arms reached out toward you, and although you didn't understand what she wanted at first, you handed her the painting after she glanced at it.

"It's you," she stated after carefully brushing the shreds back into place with her fingers. "It is?" you didn't want to enter the room any further with how filthy you were, but you still leaned over to see it from her perspective. She was right. For all that it was rushed, it did resemble you. Urgh, that son of a bitch. Was he mocking you? "Can it be fixed?" you asked her hesitantly.

She put her current embroidery project aside and picked out her thinnest threat and smallest needle, but instead of handing them to you, she began working on it herself. You looked at her in confusion, but the closest you got to an explanation was the statement: "You need to bathe"

Well, now the painting is hung in your room, and as the weeks went by it was joined by others. Canvas upon shredded canvas carefully stitched back together first by Michiko's, but later by your own hand. Why did you even keep them? It didn't make any goddamn sense. You despised looking at them. Looking at them and thinking that maybe he did actually deserve the things he had. The fame, all his accomplishments, all the things you didn't get to have through something that was no fault of your own. Maybe he deserved it, maybe you were wrong. Maybe your hatred was misplaced. It wasn't so much the painter himself that made your blood boil, although he definitely was an unlikeable person, it was the reminder of what you could have had if the world had been any less unfair.

They looked nice.

His paintings they.... looked nice.

You wondered if he always drew the hunter chasing him or if it was nothing but a coincidence that all the pictures you'd gathered were attempts of depicting you. If one were to utilize logic here, then they'd simply have asked. But if you were to ask him you'd have to admit that you paid enough attention to his paintings to pick up on this detail.

And by God, you would rather die than admit that you liked them.

Let me know if you want a continuation to like... enemies to lovers this. If you do then you can send in another request right now but please know that I won't get to it until much later. I'll just put it on my list so I won't forget. Again I'm not sure if this is what you wanted so I'm sorry if I did it wrong

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #edgar valden x reader #idv painter x reader #identity v painter x reader

[undobutton]

"hey edgar, sorry im late, but i found this bright red rose for you. ^^"

(not me tempted to say the "its been a year daddy" meme 😭😭

"oh, thank you y/n..." he stares at the rose for a second before looking around the empty balcony. "I'll forgive you if you give me a kiss."

-button & Edgar 🌺🖌️

(you have every right to use that meme lmao)

#identity v #edgar idv #idv edgar #edgar x reader #edgar valden #identity v painter #identity v painter x reader #painter idv #idv painter #character ask event🌺

[otakusparkle]

Today is the 6th anniversary day of Identity V, and it is also the 6th year that visitors have met and accompanied us. Thank you old friends and new partners for your tolerance and support.

The 6 years have left us with many precious memories. I hope that in the future, we can continue to share our hearts and create more beautiful memories that belong to you and me. Next, the anniversary concert brought by the manor partners is about to start - enjoy the wonderful anniversary time~

Happy 6th birthday, Identity V.

Happy 6th anniversary of meeting, manor visitors.

#idv #identity v #idv official illustration #idv seer #eli clark #idv mercenary #naib subedar #idv prospector #norton campbell #idv embalmer #aesop carl #idv prisoner #luca balsa #idv grave keeper #andrew kreiss #idv painter #edgar valden #idv postman #victor grantz #idv anniversary #idv x reader

[turbulentscrawl]

Reminders of the Horror (Norton & Edgar)

warnings: character death (you), descriptions of heavy gore (I mean it. the Norton one is p bad), angst, lots of blood and pain

Your ears are ringing.

There’s not really any reason for them to be. All things considered, the wall coming down wasn’t that loud, and neither was your screaming. But your ears are ringing like you think Norton’s must have during that horrible event so much like this moment. Aside from the volume, everything is exactly as he’d described it on those late, sleepless nights. The dust, the dark, the agonized cries. (Yours.) Somewhere in your scrambled mind, you’re sure Norton sees the ghosts of his spiteful coworkers littered about him, but it’s just you there, trapped under the rubble of the asylum’s collapsed walls. You’ve seen single portions of wall collapse at the church, but never anything like this. Fools Gold had somehow managed to bring down an entire section of the sprawling building. Right on top of you.

You’re wailing and screaming for Norton, and he’s just sitting there, mere feet from you, paralyzed. His face looks like a dead man’s.

“Norton!” you scream, almost incomprehensible. His name leaves your lips along with all the air in your lungs, the rubble crushing everything out of you. You’d never dared to imagine what this kind of death felt like. Never wanted to experience the horror of it. And the pain is beyond words. Every cell in your body screams wrong, wrong, pain!

The rubble continues to settle, shift, and somehow it all gets worse. Your bones give like fragile chalk. Your abdomen shifts, squeezed from the bottom-up like a tube of toothpaste. When you open your mouth again, blood and bile gush forward, followed by a bulge of something horrifically organ-like that chokes your airways. You claw a desperate hand towards Norton, and he reacts only by numbly pushing himself away.

His back hits the far wall, still staring with unfocused eyes, and through the window above him you spot Fools Gold amble into frame. He’s grinning, albeit tightly.

“Don’t mind him,” the Worse Norton says, stepping through the window. Stepping on Norton like he’s an insect. Stepping right into the pool of your liquified viscera. “Sorry, babe, you know I wasn’t aiming for you. Just trying to give that one a hard time. That sure looks rough, though. Let me help you out real quick.”

You’re crying, but there’s no air to sob. Only bloody, salty tears as your feel yourself about to burst from the mouth. Fools Gold raises his pickaxe—perhaps the one mercy he’s still capable of giving—and brings the heavy point down on your head.

There’s so much blood. Your blood. It’s unnerving despite Edgar’s assurances that it’s good.

From your position, though, it’s hard to see how this is good. Only you two are left in this match against the triplets, and you’re only meters from the exit gate death’s door with a porcupine’s worth of metal thorns lodged in your body. The wrecked wedding venue does not help the mood, and freedom being so close by is but a taunt. You have a win at hand, if only Edgar would flee. Edgar, though, is determined to drag your mangled figure out with him no matter how much it cost.

And it was costing a lot of hurt. The spiks caught in the dirt, in the cobblestone, and pulled on your flesh and muscle, poking and swirling around inside your bruises.

“Go,” you gasp, hiccupping in pain. If he’d go, secure the win, you could die faster too. The pain would stop faster. “Go, Edg—go. I won’t…last. Go.”

“You need to tough it out,” he says through gasps of strained effort. His soft face is twisted with determination. He is not a strong man to begin with, and the added weight of the spikes is only making this harder for him. His skin and hair are dripping with blood, sweat, and mud. “I told you I can do this. Just deal with it a little longer.” In the not-so-far distance, you hear the familiar metal and cloth of the triplets shifting out of their dreaded Breaking Wheel.

“Ed,” you sob, crying dirty tears. Everything is blurry, indistinct. A bubble of blood comes up with your next scream of pain, “Go!”

“I am not afraid of death,” Edgar snaps at you. “Least of all for a situation like this.” Suddenly, he drops you and his hands are all over your body, your wounds, on the ground. Touching until his fingers and palms are running with rivulets of your blood. Then he starts smattering it about his last blank canvas with a desperate speed you’ve never seen utilized for his creations. A mania-like joy overtakes his eyes as he smacks, pokes, and smears your blood into something to distract the Hunter.

“It’s perfect,” you hear him say. When he grabs you up again, you jolt with a scream and realize, foggily, that you blacked out during his creative process. And will black out again, despite the pain’s best efforts to keep you conscious. Edgar starts dragging you again, somehow, miraculously making it to the door. When you look up, you see the triplets there, looking over a propped painting in the aisle. They’re shaking, then howling. With rage.

They grab the canvas and launch it in a tantrum towards your now-immune forms stepping over the invisible line. It clatters in front of your fading eyes, allowing you to see, barely, the butchered forms of the triples painted in your blood. A daring threat from the painter holding you to his chest as you’re swept back to the manor, where you can die and rebirth in peace.

#idv x reader #identity v #idv prospector #idv painter #edgar valden x reader #norton campbell x reader #turbulentscrawl

[ch6douin]

I’m glad you liked my drunk player showering plushies with kiss kiss ideas. Now i give you one more before I disappear into the night. Plushies giving player a “kiss” (just the plushies smooshing their face on players face, maybe even a hand kiss of its a more gentlemanly plush, jose plush I feel, most of the hunter plushes, maybe frederick, so many possibilities)

Andrew happening to walk by before noticing you kneeling down before his plushie self, he hides himself to watch this interaction. Andrew plushie keeps motioning the player forward as if to tell them a secret. And as players face is right there, it hesitates before summoning all the strength its little plush body has, and “kisses” you on the cheek. Startled, player moves back, before probably giving a gentle laugh and giving plush Andrew a lil forehead kiss. Andrew is kept awake at night by this, especially by player’s reaction.

Naib’s plush gives gnight kiss kiss. I imagine Naib, who’s probably still wary, would probably always be having an eye on player, so he doesn’t trust the plushie either; just cause its ugly in a cute way (kinda) doesn’t meant it doesn’t have malicious plans. Even if the player isn’t responsible for the game, they could still possibly be apart of the reason they arent able to leave. Still probably witnessing a peacefully sleeping player and Naib’s plush giving them a lil “kiss” on the lips has him stone faced but the red is starting to appear on his cheeks and tips of his ears, each time he witnesses it he gets a bit more relaxed cause players not doing anything suspicious. Still probably suspicious tho.

Emil and ada’s plushies give each other kisses. Player is often awing at the way they express their love to each other. They probably dont kiss player much but will take players hands to give player little finger kisses. These two plushs are one of the few that hang out with their survivor selfs a bit more than hanging around player. They melt ada and emils hearts everytime they see them.

Mikes plush does a LOT. Fucking plush will be on like a chandelier and player is speaking to another when suddenly the plush has jumped and done smooshed its face to player. It gives player a heart attack every time which is why its not done often. He probably will just jump on player relaxing to give a lil cheek kiss before back flipping away. Mike is both trying to stop it but also giving it more ideas.

Soul weaver plush is also kinda like mike in giving player a lil kiss in a big way. Im talking this lil plush can spit webs. Why? Because I said so. So players gonna get some web spit kisses at the most random times. Plush weaver can and will climb on you to perch on your shoulder just for a better angle to give you some regular kiss kiss or another wen spit kiss. Soul weaver herself is pretty bashful about it and plush weaver is given a stern talking to by her for every incident.

Enjoy my brain dump hope you like this one too

Thank you anon this is adorable you have my mind working with these. (Plushie!Andrew having more game than the actual Andrew is SO FUNNY btw.)

Not all of their plushies express their adoration towards player only by kisses though, Plush!Norton is often gifting you pretty-looking minerals and rocks to have your attention solely on it, and then, trying to use its small magnet to pull you towards it for a cheek kiss(it doesn't work). You think that maybe its counterpart is helping behind the curtains...

Plush!Emily is always at your disposal, if it senses you're not feeling well you can bet its grabbing the edge of your clothes and trying to drag you towards the Nurse's Office so the real Emily could help you. It gives those forehead kisses like a mother would, you know?

Plush!Luca with that eternal toothy smile of it zapping you playfully and running away before you react. Until it finally gets lifted by its collar and its next move is to swing towards your face and smash its own on your cheek. Other than that, Plushie!Luca is more often seen with the actual Luca who finds the plushie so intriguing and interacts with it a lot. It's so much easier to work when he has some help.

Plush!Anne is always seen with its counterpart too, Anne is so pleased to have this adorable company that she makes an exact copy of her glider and a catapult. You can see it gliding around often, dropping by your shoulder sometimes and giving the tiniest kiss to your cheek before gliding away as fast as it can.

Plush!Edgar is not really what you could call social, but its curiosity is piqued whenever you do something that involves art. This is when you see it at the most, demanding you put it on your lap or a nearby chair so it can tug at your clothes whenever it considers you're doing something wrong. Edgar checks his plushie now and then, after all, it cannot taint his reputation while using his face. It's not surprising though that Plushie!Edgar is just like his counterpart when guiding you through the process of making art, and that leaves Edgar with a satisfied smile. No, I don't think it would kiss you, let it be enough that you earned its attention.

Plush!Frederick is anywhere music is, walking around with elegance that a few plushies lack. It will seek you out though so the two of you can appreciate the beauty of music, and then, thank you with a kiss on the back of your hand. I'm not sure but I don't think it stays a lot with Frederick, so you won't see them together a lot.

Plush!Mary is hard to please, of course. She still likes to assert the composure of a Queen. Share with her desserts, dance with her, gift her cute ribbons and other accessories, and maybe, just maybe she'll kiss you.

PS: I was going to put Tracy or Martha too but i got lazy at the end plus I didn't know exactly what to write 💀

#idvselfaware #self aware au #asks #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv composer #idv painter #idv bloody queen #idv doctor #idv prisoner #idv prospector #idv toy merchant

[fishermanshook]

"You look, oddly familiar." (surviors! x gn!reader)

INTRO

A prompt where you knew said Survivor before they came to the manor. Your reason for coming here? Probably because of them.

꒰wc꒱ 1.0k words (grammar and spelling warning, mentions of abuse in Female Dancer’s part.)

The Enchantress

You and the Enchantress were together a lot as kids, or has your growing age started to wipe your memory clean? Do you struggle to remember such personal moments the two of you shared? Such a shame, as it's been over 5 years and you've yet to trace her location down. Has she disappeared from the world entirely? Seems like it, doesn't it?

Oh. Wait. There's a memory. An old one for sure, but a memory is still a memory. You and Patricia had spent what seemed to be every waking second together. So much so that Patricia's "mother" had started to see you as her own. Another child to take under her wing, and she gladly would. You understand that, right? Had she not taught you enough? The two of you had made a habit of strolling through New Orleans together, knowing almost every face that inhabited every corner of the city. You'd be down there for any number of reasons. To pick something up, to look for new ingredients, or just to look around the place you know by the back of your hand.

If the two of you had spent so much time with each other, then why didn't she tell you where the hell she went? She never left a note, a letter, or even a single clue as to where she ran off. So yes, when you received a letter stating to know her whereabouts you followed. Was it dumb? Oh for sure. But you would take every chance you could get to find her. You didn't even get to go up to her when you spotted her, she already knew.

"I wish you hadn't come," The Enchantress says with her back turned to yours. "but I can't help but be happy that you did." She chimed, turning around with a smile and a strange-looking artifact in her hand.

The Painter

You were there when it all started. You know, his painting thing. At first, he was a mess, paint slobbered all over his hands and face like a child. But I guess he was a child when he first picked up the paintbrush. Who would’ve known he would never put it down?

As Edgar’s talent increased, he started painting other things. Boats in the river, flowers growing outside, people strolling around the park where the two of you frequented. His drawings decorated his room and cluttered his bedroom floor.

For your 12th birthday, little Edgar (in all honesty) had forgotten about your birthday. The thought of it struck his mind at 1 in the morning as he quickly grabbed for his paints before whisking out a canvas. Throwing himself into his work, he produced his first of many portraits of you. From that point forward, it was a tradition for him to paint you for each birthday. No matter how many fights you had over his short temper or accidental paint spills imported from the other side of the country, you still received a packaged painting. Wrapped in fine silk with a “happy birthday” note tucked in between the folds. For you, he spared little to no expense. That is, until he got older.

It has been over two years since you've seen the man and you haven’t received a single portrait since. Arriving at the manor, you find him in the garden alone, painting a familiar portrait.

“It’s nice that you remember my face, as I’m starting to forget yours.” Your voice nearly makes him drop his paintbrush, as he whips around to meet you. You in all your stunning beauty, god, how you’ve grown from the small child he once knew.

Female Dancer

It is either that you met Nata-Margaretha in Lakeside Village or during your shared time spent in the Hullabaloo circus. Both experiences that you will not forget, but time makes things foggy. It blurs memories that were important to your life that you can no longer recall. But for the sake of going to bed without a piercing migraine tonight, your brain tells you it was during the circus.

Ah, now you're starting to remember things. As memories (some unwanted) come flooding back to you about the circus. A curious place that produced good and bad thoughts. Your mind flashes back to before the accident when time was spent helping Margie (a nickname used widely throughout the circus by many of its performers) tame animals and perform new jaw-dropping tricks to stun the audience. 

You remember when your ignorance of what was happening behind closed curtains came crashing down. When Margaretha came crying to you, sobbing that she needed to tell you something. She then began to show you bruises and cuts that littered her body, all deliberately hidden in places that couldn't be noticed unless further expected. To keep it short, you were shocked that "he" could do something this horrible, to decorate her upper body in purple and red marks. It was even more shocking that if anyone noticed, "he" would just brush it off and say that she got hurt while practicing. 

At that time, you knew you had to get her and yourself out of there. A lack of knowledge has landed your friend with bruises, cuts, and unwanted love from someone she thought she cared for.

You haven't seen Margaretha since the fire. Actually, you haven't seen anyone since the fire. Not Mike, not Murro, not even Violetta. But following breadcrumbs as to where they all went earned you a one-way ticket to the Oletus Manor, maybe your questions will be answered there.

"Margie?" You almost choke on your words. Seeing her for the first time in so long feels nostalgic. (how old are you again?) She can't even respond, she can’t even believe it's you. All you'll get from her is a death-griping hug and a stained shirt accompanied by her ever-flowing tears.

note: I love you Patricia (writers block is kicking my a rn)

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

#⋆˚ 💗˖° HEAD OVER HEELS! #🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･CRY ME A RIVER. #philomena's files #idv x reader #idv #fanfiction #identityv #identity v #x reader #idv edgar x reader #edgar valden #the painter x you #the painter idv #idv the painter #female dancer idv #female dancer x you #idv female dancer #margaretha zelle #patricia dorval #the enchantress #the enchantress idv #enchantress x you #idv fluff #fluff #a little angsty #mention of abuse #angst with comfort #idv angst

[aliceia-xi]

General Edgar Valden headcanons

X Gn reader

‣ Edgar is most likely less experienced than you when it comes to relationships, you're definitely the first person he's dated. You'll be the one that takes the lead the most because he'll be too flustered to try something with you first.

‣ He is easily flustered with physical affection so it's reserved for when you're alone. He rarely initiates kisses or other forms of affection but sometimes he'll give you a quick peck on the lips before your matches.

‣ He'll always be the big spoon because of his pride but deep down he really wants to be held, if you convince him to be the big spoon he feels safe in your arms almost always leaning into your touch.

‣ He melts when you give him praise on his work, it really boosts his ego. He loves it when you play with his hair when he's painting. He's actively aware when you're watching him paint so he can impress you.

‣ If you're also an artist he'll love to have days where you just paint together in his studio, it really does brighten up his mood and he'll hang up your paintings in his room.

‣ He finds himself drawing you without realizing and he memorizes any birthmarks you have and the way you're hair flows, you are his permanent muse. After you started dating he found that he didn't get art blocks that much anymore.

‣ Although there are some times that he'll might get mad at you if you bother him too much while he's trying to create his magnum opus. Sometimes he just doesn't want anyone entering his studio even if it's you.

‣ He has a hard time expressing himself though, he does feel bad after shooing you off but he doesn't know how he'll apologize to you. Same with comforting, he'll try to figure out a way to calm you down because he doesn't like seeing you upset, if you're crying he'll offer his shoulder to cry on.

#identity v #identity v x reader #identity v painter #edgar valden #edgar valden x reader #idv #idv painter #idv painter x reader #idv x reader #idv x you

[lostarchivesoforpheus]

Hi ! Can u do hcs of Edgar Valden x fem reader who is basically his muse. And they're completely the opposite but Edgar slowly finds him falling for her? I hope you have a good day <3

`•- Portrait of My Heart

edgar valden x fem reader

summary: even despite your differences, edgar valden can't help falling in love with you.

warnings: none that i know of

a/n: ebgr valdn, also this is more of like a little blurb scenario thing instead of headcanons but i had an idea and ran with it so i hope that's ok

He always had an eye for beauty.

When Edgar first took you under his wing as a painter, he was unsure how to feel about you. Your skill and talent was remarkable, yet your loud and rowdy personality threw him off. You were a mystery to him, and he always had a hard time trying to understand you as a person. He often found himself avoiding those with a boisterous personality such as yours, yet he couldn't help but find himself drawn to you for some strange, unknown reason.

At first, he doesn't notice the way he worries for you when you get sick. He brushes it off, saying that it's only natural that he wishes to help take care of you until you get better.

He doesn't notice the way his heart seemed to soar every time you smiled at him after finishing a new painting. He says it's only natural for him to feel proud of his apprentice.

He doesn't notice how his heart seemed to beat just a little bit faster when he gently guided your hand along when you were having trouble painting something. He doesn't notice how butterflies erupted in his stomach when you presented to him a painting that you were particularly proud of. He doesn't notice anything at all, telling himself that it's only natural that he's grown accustomed to your presence as his muse.

He only noticed when you gifted him one of your paintings, as a thanks for taking you under his wing and teaching you everything you could ever know about painting. The painting you had given to him was a delicately crafted picture of himself, drawn with every little detail and attribute. He couldn't help but admire every little bit about your work, and as he looked up at you with the slightest tint of pink on his cheeks, he couldn't help but admire every little bit of you.

He only noticed when he began to paint portraits of you, meticulously drawn and beautifully decorated with stunning bursts of colour. He painted you again and again, always aiming to capture your essence perfectly so he could gift a portrait back to you after that day.

He only noticed when he realised he wanted to gift you a painting, something he would never do with anyone else. He only noticed when he subconsciously started glancing at you during painting sessions, when he was normally focused on nothing else but the brush in his hands and the canvas in front of him. He only noticed when you began appearing in his dreams, with a smile so bright it was blinding.

After one year and six months of you becoming his muse, Edgar Valden finally noticed how he cherished you like no other. After one year and six months, Edgar Valden finally noticed how much he treasured and cared for you. After one year and six months, Edgar Valden finally noticed he was in love with you.

a/n: the best ideas for fanfic always come to me at 1 am

thanks for reading, and remember to take care of yourself!

#`•- second floor in the archives: fluff #fanfic #fanfic author #fanfiction #fanfiction author #x reader #identity v #identity v x reader #idv #idv x reader #edgar valden #edgar valden x reader #idv edgar #idv painter #identity v edgar #identity v edgar valden #identity v painter #do you think edgar valden would like blue cheese yes or no

[sakurayumeno]

Yanderes Reacting to You Attacking Them

Characters: Aesop, Alva, Andrew, Edgar, Eli, Luchino [H & S], Norton.

Genre: Yandere, Drabble.

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, physical violence.

A/N: This has been sitting in the drafts since April and I kept adding people since then for some reason. It's finished now though!! Btw huge disclaimer, do not do this in real life. This is meant to be for the shits and giggles, not to permit people to do this. Same goes for my other yandere writings. Just wanted to clear this all up just incase.

If you don’t like yandere or if it makes you uncomfortable, don’t read.

Aesop at first glance doesn't seem like the type of person to be able to hold his own, but thats far from the truth. He literally carried bodies for his job before coming to the manor, he's quite confident he could take you on if needed. If it means hurting you then so be it, he'll patch you up later. But when he does, he won't be as careful as he was before. So don't be surprised when he "accidentally" bandages you up too tight or sticks the suture needle in the wrong spot... multiple times.

Aesop

Alva

Not mad, just disappointed. He's told you multiple times on why he had to take you away from those untrustworthy teammates of yours, they were dangerous and he couldn't risk losing another person he cares about, but you never would listen.

More brains than brawn. He knows you could best him in a fight, so he cheats a little, using his electromagnetism to stop you. Think smart not hard.

Andrew

This is what he deserves, he truly believes that, there's no reason for him to stop you in his eyes. How could he? He was the one who did something wrong and this is his punishment. Being hurt by the one he loves has never hurt so much before, but he understands. If doing this to him makes you happy, seeing him in pain by your own hand, then he'd gladly have you do it again.

Edgar

This guy has most likely never been in a physical fight in his life. He has no idea what to do, which makes him feel so vulnerable. And there's nothing else he loathes more than feeling vulnerable. So he panics and does whatever he can to get you to back off, even if it means to fight dirty. He'll kick, he'll pull hair, ears, anywhere he can reach. And when it's all over and your body aches from his attacks, he'll be looming over you, scowling with the pitiful tears of fear in his eyes.

Eli

He takes many precautions with you to avoid situations like this from happening. With his foresight, he already knew what you were planning and would try to talk you out of it, not wanting to resolve this in a violent manner. Because look, he's not very strong, in fact you could most likely overpower him if you really tried.

But if his attempt to dissuade you was to no avail, he would only fight back to defend himself, not hurt you. He couldn't bring himself to do such a thing to his lover.

Luchino || Hunter

...really? What were you thinking when you were trying to do that? There's no chance of you ever overpowering him and you both know it. So he just... laughs it off. He laughs at you. He finds your fruitless attempt hilarious, he thought you were smarter than that. Then, he grabs you by the back of your shirt like you're nothing but a small animal to him: a predator and its prey. But he was right about one thing, he knew you were such an intresting human.

Luchino || Survivor

He's more worried about you more than anything. Having a job working with highly venomous reptiles is nothing to take lightly. Your safety is his number one priority, even though it should be the other way around.

Now, he's not gonna do anything drastic, seeing as he doesn't want to worsen the already dangerous situation, but he's going to act serious about it. Firmly grabbing you by the shoulders and dragging you out of the room, only to then start scolding you. Not for what you did, but how you could've gotten hurt. It's not that he won't acknowledge that you attacked him, it's just that he knows your effort against him is completely futile. He only wishes you'll soon realize the same.

Norton

If you surprise him enough, you may be able to topple him over, forcing him to let out a string of curses at the sudden tackle you give him. Once he sees that his attacker is you, he tries to get you to stop, pleading for you to calm down. He'll even be trying to grab your arms to get you to cease your actions.

Absolutely sucks at fighting, especially if someone else starts it, but if you are considerably weaker than him then he may stand a chance.

#idv #identity v #yandere idv #identity v x reader #idv x reader #yandere #idv embalmer #idv aesop carl #aesop carl x reader #idv painter #idv edgar valden #edgar valden x reader #idv seer #idv eli clark #eli clark x reader #idv prospector #idv norton campbell #norton campbell x reader #idv evil reptilian #idv luchino #idv luchino diruse #luchino diruse x reader #idv hermit #idv alva lorenz #alva lorenz x reader #idv professor #idv grave keeper #idv andrew kreiss #andrew kreiss x reader

[avinwrites]

IDV Men and their Love Languages pt. 3

Characters included: Victor, Andrew, Luca, Edgar, Ganji

Victor Grantz 

Victor’s intense Scopophobia as well as nervous habits made determining his love language difficult. Despite his inability to talk, as well as his social anxiety, I believe his love language is, in fact, words of affirmation. At first, I vetoed this, since he doesn’t take words at face value and believes that words written and passed back and forth mean so much more. And this still applies! He is overjoyed the first time he receives a letter addressed to himself, and this carries over to receiving letters in the manor. There’s so much one can say to him, and he doesn’t have to trip and stumble through social conventions to get the message!

-You take notice of this early on, not too long after he arrived in the manor

-You thought it’d be cute, or a little funny, to give him a welcome letter and say some sweet things and encourage him and teach him a bit about the games, since he’s a postman.

-He sends a letter back saying how thankful he is for the letter and reveals to you that he isn't one for face to face conversation

-So, you both get to know each other very well though letters

-but he observes you in conversation with others

-he believes that your genuine self comes through when you write letters and that sometimes you pretend to be different around the others

-He really wants to understand your true self better

-To do that, he writes you a letter, basically outlining his thoughts

-after a long time of correspondence, he’s come to trust you

-He asks you to meet him in a quiet, pretty place, like the garden

-There, he writes down a few questions that he expresses his wish for you to respond to them in your own voice, not to write them

-When he realizes that you speak to him the same way you write to him, he gets a little flustered

-One, he feels bad for doubting you, and two, he’s over-the-moon that you entrusted him with your true self practically without hesitation

-That's when he notices you, just as flustered as he is, for seemingly no reason

-“Victor, I have to tell you the truth about something.” You were going to do this through another letter, but now seems like the perfect moment, after having confided in each other with deep feelings and secrets.

-“I’m in love with you.” The words come out before you’re ready. You’re almost breathless, like the words were ripped from your lungs by the impenetrable claws of truth.

-He sits there for a moment, stunned, red gradually spreading across his entire face

-Then, he furiously scribbles something on the paper on front of him, scratches it out, writes something else, scratches it out as well

-Then, finally, he slides the paper towards you

-amongst the messy scribbles, four words in his distinct handwriting 

-“I love you, too!”

Andrew Kreiss

He is initially afraid of affection. Previous to his life in the manor, he could only rely on his mother for comfort, and now that she is gone, he couldn’t imagine the care of another. The letter sent to him to invite him to the manor gave him hope for the first time, and in this place, he isn’t ridiculed or mocked. He still has trouble interacting with people, but he’s growing as a person. In fact, while he is living in the manor, he discovers his love language!

-When he was young, he can remember his mother pulling him close in her lap, petting his hair and whispering such sweet things to him

-He really misses her

-Sometimes, he wonders what she would think of his life now

-despite doing some immoral things in his life, then taking a sketchy offer to go to an unknown location, he thinks he’s doing ok

-Surprisingly, he’s bonded with a few people while having to live here

-the main one being you

-You were so kind to him when he first arrived

-You were the first person he met that didn’t treat him harshly or whisper behind his back about him

-It was no question that he’d become close to you

-You engage him in such interesting conversations as well

-Particularly, the conversation the two of you are in now

-“Hey, Andrew, what do you think your love language is?”

-“What is that?”

-Shocked, you explain to Andrew the main 5 love languages and what they entail. He genuinely has no idea. 

-“I think you best receive love through words of affection, but I also see that makes you uncomfortable, so I’ve been having trouble figuring it out.”

-“Do you think about everyone like this?”

-“Only certain people; people I care a lot about!”

-He’s blushing, maybe it is words of affection

-“Your kind words… remind me of my mother.”

-His pale face rapidly turning red, you can’t help but test the limits of his reception of intimacy

-You pull his calloused hands into yours, watching his face intently for any sign of discomfort, or appreciation

-He stares like a deer in headlights at your hands, but does not pull away

-“Maybe you like physical affection then?” You say, coy

-“I… I think,” he’s stammering, throat dry and nervous, “I think so long as it’s you… I’d be fine with anything.”

-Ah, now he’s got you blushing

-Guess you’ll have to show him different types of affection more often!

Luca Balsa

Luca spends a lot of his time working. He’s desperate to remember his old ideas, and often forgets to take care of himself. The best way to show that one loves him is through Acts of Service. He doesn’t need someone to take care of him, but he understands the difference between pity and genuine care. 

-Drag him out of his room when he’s been holed up in there for too long, he’ll fight, but ultimately, he’s appreciative of it. 

-He forgets to eat and drink, too focused on other matters. Tell him some silly joke about how “perpetual motion can’t exist without some kind of energy!” and make him eat. 

-If he’s having a particularly stressful day, migraines and amnesia making his brain swirl into oblivion, bring him a cold hand towel and a drink

-Sit with him until he’s feeling better and encourage him to get some fresh air

-He can’t think of anything but his invention until you come along and distract him

-now all he can think about is how thankful he is for your care

-He does things for you, too.

-He likes to do gentlemanly things for you

-Like pull out a chair for you, or lend you a coat if he happens to have one

-It reminds him of his life before the accident

-While his love language is acts of service, there is one particular thing he likes to do with you that doesn’t have much to do with that

-You notice he’s particularly chipper one day, practically bouncing up and down with energy

-“What puts you in a good mood today, Luca?” You laugh, he pulls you up from your seat with a hand and leads you to a large open space in the foyer

-“I remembered something earlier, something I wish to share with you!”

-“Then by all means, lead the way!”

-Once you reach the foyer, he doesn’t let go of your hand, instead positioning you close to him, he places your other hand on his shoulder, then moves to hold you soft on the waist.

-“You remembered a dance?”

-He doesn’t respond, almost as if he is trapped in the memory itself, he begins to twirl you around the makeshift ballroom

-Suddenly, he beams, laughing gleefully as he lifts you and spins you around!

-Its infectious, his smile, you laugh with him, enjoying your moment together

-When he slows down, he rests his forehead against yours, giving you his signature lopsided grin

-“Thank you for all that you do for me.”

Edgar Valden

Edgar believes that any “time” that he gives to someone else should be considered quality. But what is quality time to him? He thinks back to his younger years, his brothers always pestering him, telling him to do things or wanting to spend time with him. Back then, he would’ve called “quality time” being alone with his painting supplies, full of inspiration and ability. Now, he has a different idea of quality time.

-When Edgar met you, you sparked the remembrance of his sister in him.

-His poor, sister whom he lost so early in life, just after his mother left

-It was his first major inspiration since being in the Manor

-He tried to work using only his memory, but that was unreliable at most times. 

-So, he asked you to come meet him where he could see you and paint

-He sets up an easel outside near a bench in the gardens

-Back in Britain, he made a comment about how the weather was always against him, he hates rain

-But today, everything seems to be going in his favor

-The sun in its radiance directed itself in his muses direction

-You sit there in front of him, nervous, but excited to see the outcome of his painting

-He’s in quiet concentration, you hesitate to break the silence, but you feel a little uncomfortable sitting as he stares at you

-“The sun is brilliant today! Don’t you think so?” You say, awaiting his response. At first he looks like he’s going to tell you to keep quiet, then his gaze softens ever-so-slightly

-“I like the sun as well, rain is uninspiring.”

-The silence continues for a short moment before he speaks again

-“I used to have a friend, my cat, Mary. She loved sunny days like this, too. I can almost see her curled up, soaking up the rays.”

-He spends a short amount of time reminiscing of his past, remembering when Mary was young and his close siblings would run in the yard and chase after her.

-That didn’t last for very long

-He and Mary grew up similarly, as they grew older, they became slower and more content to be alone

-“I’ve never remembered so much in such a short time.” He comments. You almost don’t hear him.

-“Good memories, I hope!” You pipe up from your seat across from him.

-“Bittersweet.” A sigh, then a light breeze picks up, bringing with it dark clouds.

-When thunder rumbles in the distance, he groans.

-“It seems the weather always has it out for me.”

-“That’s ok, we have plenty of time together! Let’s do this again!” You help him carry his things indoors before any rain picks up.

-When he’s back in his room, alone, he rethinks his definition of quality time. 

-He would like to experience this day again. And again. 

Ganji Gupta

Words of Affirmation is Ganji’s love language. He likes to be reassured, and though he has a bit of a short temper, his anger is resolved with relative ease. He is also one to use his words to show appreciation. Despite looking displeased most of the time, Ganji is a perfectly pleasant man to be around. 

-His favorite thing to do is compliment you during a match

-Sometimes, it will distract you, which entertains him

-He likes the playful banter that comes with competition

-If you’re containing the hunter, he’ll run by and hit the hunter at the perfect time

-then direct some quip at you about how he “saved” you

-It is the opposite when he has to use his rampage skill

-he hates being so angry and violent, but he has to in order to gain strength

-so, once you’re both safe, you comfort him with your kind words, reminding him that he’s not a monster, and that he is a kind person

-the only part of his rage he appreciates. That is, the fact that you always comfort him.

-A lot of his attachment comes from open communication

-honesty is a really big thing for him

-If he has a problem with something, he’ll come out and say it

-but he’ll be cordial about it until it turns into an argument

-that doesn’t happen very often, though

-and rarely ever with you, he feels very guilty if he ever directs his anger towards you

-if, is the keyword, it really is unlikely for you to get in a fight with him

-he cares about you so much that only sweet words will flow from his mouth to your ears

-he makes sure of it!

Hi! Thank you all so much for reading and supporting my works! This will be the end of this "mini-series" if one could call it that! However, for the characters I didn't write for, I'd be happy to revisit them if requested! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

Characters not included: Ada, Vera, Murro, Emil, Orpheus, Luchino, and Frederick, as well as any hunter.

#idv #identity v #idv x reader #identity v x reader #victor grantz #idv postman #andrew kreiss #idv grave keeper #luca balsa #idv prisoner #edgar valden #idv painter #ganji gupta #idv batter

[eve-lullabye]

Where you compliment the hunter to distract him

Based off IDV

The Businessman, or Azul as it's shorter, is a very tricky hunter. He will come up behind you stealthily and whack at you with his cane. Or maybe you'll find yourself decoding, and a contract will shine in front of you freezing your movements. Whatever it was nothing was worse when he switched to his merform. Although he was confined to the water, it didn't affect his range. On the plus side, Azul could only switch to his octoform once per match.

So, when he switched into his merform in the middle of the Moonlit River Park. Well, that was unfortunate. What was more unfortunate was the fact that Edgar the Painter and Emma, our gardener, were pushing you to the bridge.

"I really don't want to go," you squeaked, trying to get out of their grasp.

"You need to buy us some time!" Edgar huffed. Tracy gave a worried smile.

"Should we really be doing this?"

"Tracy, just get your dummy to decode," Emma snapped back. "I haven't escaped a match in a while and if we need to sacrifice someone for it, then so be it."

Emma was understandably upset. If you didn't escape matches, no one will help you in the next. They might not even pair up with you.

"But is this reasonable? Edgar, please, tell me you're smart enough to realize how stupid this is," you pleaded to Edgar. You could see conflicting emotions flash through his eyes and hopefully clasped his arm.

"Sorry, [Name]," He sighed. Edgar wasn't completely to blame. Emma pushed for them to vote up a sacrifice to distract Azul.

Finally, you gave in, "Alright what do I do?"

"Think of something," Emma whispered. You glanced over the bridge to see the meroctopus swimming in circles at a slow speed. When you turned your head back to your teammates, they were nowhere to be found. Something cold wet and slimy wrap around your arms and toppled you into the river.

You failed underwater, trying to reach the surface. Something firm and strong wrapped around your waist, pulling you out into the air. You gasped, coughing and shivering. You looked down to see a tentacle, holding you. Slowly, your gaze followed it to where it ended. Blue eyes met your [e/c-colored] eyes. Azul smirked at his catch and was prepared to take you to a chair.

"You're pretty," you spoke without thinking. Azul's face flushed while he nearly dropped you.

"What?" He squawked. His tentacles writhed probably from embarrassment, but you were too mesmerized with his merform. You laid your hand on the tentacle holding you and curiously examined it.

"This is so cool! I have never seen you like this before!" You giggled gently tracing the suckers on the underside of the appendage. Now, he dropped you.

You surfaced and swam over to Azul with bright eyes. He, on the other hand, didn't want you anywhere near him. You quickly used your skill which forced you to Azul. You should have calculated where to aim it more carefully, becuase you were sent flying into Azul, whose appendages rose to either block himself or to catch you. One of them caught you by the foot and hung you upside down.

"You could have hurt yourself," Azul folded his arms.

"Do you have to stay in water all of the time?" You asked as he gently lowered you.

"Huh, w-well no," he responded, "I have to be in water."

"Aww, that's a shame," you sulked, "Your skin is really moist and smooth." The red cheeks appeared again, and you smirked, "You're so smart and powerful." Your flattering words embarrassed him further. "And good-looking." Azul froze at your last words. You slapped your hand to your mouth, "I did it again."

Sirens wailing broke the two of you from your little playtime. You worriedly looked to Azul who was dealing with internal conflicts.

"Fine," he huffed, avoiding your eyes and wrapping his tentacles around you. "Just this once." He lifted you and placed you back on the bridge before climbing out himself and switching to his human form. You beamed and jumped on him, hugging the hunter. Azul stumbled backwards with arms hanging in the air. He patted your head and pushed you away.

"I'll see you again, Zul," you sneakily kissed his cheek and used his shocked expression to your advantage. Running towards the exit, you met up with the other who congratulated your escape. You looked forward to be against the merman in future matches.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst x reader #identity v #idv painter #idv gardener #idv mechanic #hunter x reader #identity v x reader

[teabreakpancakes]

Can You do a reaction where Luca, Victor, Andrew, Edgar and Kevin (separately) s/o’s get a new skin that’s sexy where they have things like spandex, chains, corset, high heels and a whip accessory as well. Maybe the skin also makes them more dominant.

Luca, Andrew, Victor, Edgar, Kevin, and Naib's S/O with an inappropriate costume

Genre: Fluff, Some NSFW

Warning: suggestive asf

Exiting Miss Nightingale's sewing room, (Name) couldn't help but get an ominous feel from the woman's smile as she bid them goodbye, telling them that she had a surprise for them once their match started.

'Oh well, it couldn't be that bad' they thought, taking a seat in the waiting room.

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐀

Luca was decoding like normal, that is, until you arrived. A red blush decorated your cheeks. Now, why were you so embarrassed, he wondered, his eyes trailing down.

Red rapidly crept up his cheeks, his eyes wide, ignoring the sensation of the cipher machine shocking him—though, failing a calibration didn't stop him from staring at you.

You hit him lightly with the handle of the whip, "H, hey! snap out of it will you?! Ganji is still kiting so you best get to decoding the last cipher while I rescue Anne" they say in a strict manner, one hand on their hip as they walk away in their stilettos.

Luca nods, face still red as he forces himself to think of something other than you in that damned outfit—he wondered about how it would feel to caress your thighs in those fishnets.

he's very much a pervert but a gentlemanly one—he's your pervert tho

will squeeze your thighs in those fishnets—it's very tempting okay

thanks miss nightingale for it, he even sends a fucking letter

although he hates being treated roughly, he lowkey wants you to hit him with that whip please do it once, lightly though since you don't want him to remember being in prison

needless to say, whenever he accidentally whistles, he tells you it's one of his tics but either way, you can't actually tell slick bastard

he begs you to wear the costume again but just for him and no one else

he actually shocked norton because he stared at you for too long

but, how the hell are you walking in those things?!?!

and how are you even able to participate in matches comfortably? isn't that corset suffocating you?

He trails his hands up your thighs, letting out small groans as you tug on his hair. Your thighs wrap around his head, squeezing slightly as his tongue prods at your hole. "R, Right there" they moan out, caressing the back of his head as he works his tongue faster.

𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐖 𝐊𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐒

Andrew may be a religious man but he swears he almost drooled when he saw you in such indecent clothing. He wanted to reprimand you but it seemed that he found himself to be rather unwilling.

He snuck up behind you, placing his hands on your waist. "Are you begging for punishment by wearing such revealing clothing dear?" he whispered, the albino's voice an octave deeper than usual.

Andrew places a soft kiss on your nape, admiring the red hue dancing across your face as he cups your face. He smiles, a sadistic teasing look in his eyes as he turns to leave.

Halfway across the church, he turns to them, eyeing the whip on the back of their shorts. "I suggest hiding that from me later lest you want that to replace my hands later on" his voice echoing and leaving (Name) simmering in their anticipation.

this guy... a huge tease, a sadistic one at that

no, he will not let you dominate him, behave yourself or else he'll punish you

as much as he dislikes such scandalous clothing, he finds himself enjoying seeing it on you

if he has to rescue you, i can guarantee that he'll just lift you up instead of watching you run in those high heels, he's stronger than he looks

he will actually use that whip on you, tread carefully dear

he pokes at your butt whenever he passes by you in a match and you're wearing that costume

if anyone dares to lay a hand on you he will hit them with his shovel

he's very very possessive, he doesn't care if it's a sin, if it's you it does not matter

A loud smack echoes within the confines of Andrew's room. Soft whimpers leave your mouth as he caresses your ass, admiring the red markings his hand left. A dark chuckle leaves his mouth as they squirm, his hand steadying them on his lap. "Be good, or else I won't let you cum" he whispers, nibbling on their ear.

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐙

Victor's blush crawled up his neck, reaching the very tips of his ears when his eyes landed on your figure. He obeyed your orders so well, smiling softly at you.

His eyes were filled with adoration, one would've thought he was so innocent—yeah no. (Name) knew from the get go that they'd be in for a lot after the match ended. Victor may be a sweetheart but he enjoys being a tease right after.

They could feel his eyes trailing up and down their figure as they moved, a soft smile being sent their way whenever their eyes met.

Victor's warm hand wrapped around their ankle, a worried look in his eyes as he removed the high heel. He set them on a bench, removing their other shoe before lifting them into his arms. "Let's get to the exit gate while the Dream Witch is occupied" (Name) orders, Victor nodding before running to the open gate.

you'd expect him to be the type that gets dominated right? well, yes and no

he'll let you dominate him but don't be fooled, he'll be much worse later one

he's a sweetheart, an absolute softie... it applies in bed as well but his teasing makes it so fucking unbearable

will massage your legs because he knows they hurt, will offer to carry you if your feet hurt

he isn't really bothered by the clothing, he's mature and in control of his libido

he thinks you look stunning in everything

don't take it too far with dominating him though, he'll be more than happy to switch your positions

will send letters to you singing praises about how good you look using wick—please pet wick when he does

he'll try to cover you up if anyone stares at you

Victor smiles lovingly, gently holding onto your waist as you hold onto his shoulders. He sat on the ground, his back propped up against the wall of his bedroom with you on top of him on his lap. (Name) pulls him close using his collar, "Victor, just take me already" they whine, impatient as they rub against the postman's thigh. Victor hums, "Alright then" he whispered against their lips, reaching into their underwear.

𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍

"Why are you trying to order me around?" Edgar hisses out, arms folded over his chest as he arches his eyebrow. (Name) shakes their head, "It's this stupid skin, I can't control it :(" they reply, a tired and annoyed look on their face as they shake their head.

Edgar sighs, "I'll tell the hunter that we're surrendering so we can fix this problem, we can't have you running around the map in that" he points to your clothing, a scoff leaving his lips. He takes off his capelet, wrapping it around your shoulders before walking in the direction he saw the hunter at previously.

(Name) gushes at their lover, a look of euphoria painting their face as they squeal over Edgar's actions. "Eddy I wuv you so muchhhh" they bang on the worn-down hospital's walls, a vibrant blush on their face.

Orpheus peers at them from above, shaking his head. "Valden, your S/O is just as Liam says, a simp" he deadpans, walking away from the building to decode.

he's a tsundere istg

he's not one to mind such clothing, he's painted people naked after all

he thinks you look attractive in the clothing but that's because his lovely S/O is always beautiful

if anyone even dares to stare at you and make you uncomfortable he'll throw his easel at them, he'll even threaten to poke their eyes out, what's his is his alone, alright?

he prefers seeing you in your usual clothing, his clothing even or be naked, just as long as he's the only one able to see you of course

he tried out your high heels, he hates them, he now looks up to people that wear such things

he's a grumpy cat and you're his loyal simp, quite a lovely pair

he loves you a lot, doesn't really care about anything sexual so if you want him to do something, you're gonna have to make him jealous or even better, just ask him.

"To think that you wanted me to do such things to you, how indecent of you doll" he whispered into your ear, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear as he rubs your sensitive chest. He smiles down at you, "Don't worry, i'll take very good care of you", relishing your soft mewls of pleasure.

𝐊𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐎

As much as the cowboy thinks you're hot in that outfit, he does not like the stares that come with it. He uses his lasso to smack both survivors and hunters that stare—it doesn't matter if you're a woman, he believes in equality.

He follows you around the entire game, letting you order him around and whatnot. You even stole his hat—did you not know what it meant to steal a cowboy's hat?

"Kevin, carry me to the exit gate, I'm tired" (Name) demands, leaning against the cowboy's chest. Kevin looks away, trying to hide the faint blush on his cheeks—who knew he'd like being ordered around.

He runs to the gate, ignoring the other two that were still in the map. A lopsided smile on his face as he turns to look down on you. You were so mean to him during the match, hitting him with the whip and leaving such painful marks on him, he was not going to let that slide.

will be a flirt the entire match, all while being extremely overprotective

will shower you in compliments because he knows damn well that you have bad thoughts of yourself

he's always thought of how you'd look in such clothing so he thinks it's a blessing that miss nightingale made it

he's a fucking simp, man is so hooked on you

he gives "you'd look good even in a trash bag" type of simp

if you ever decide to steal his hat and wear it, he'll tell you why at night and see if you consent

he kinda wants to see if he can stab someone with those high heels

"Sweetheart, did you know that when you wear the hat of a cowboy," he leaned down, pressing you against his chest as he slammed the door of his room shut, "you ride the cowboy it belongs to" his voice husky and his breath tickling your neck.

𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐁 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐑

The mercenary whistles at the sight of his S/O decoding. He walks up to them silently, eyes trained on the plumpness of their ass. His hand meets with their bottom, a satisfying smack resounding through the air.

A squeak leaves (Name)'s mouth, they turn to him and smack him with their whip. Naib winks at them, ignoring the stinging sensation on his wrist as he smiles cockily at them.

"NAIB! GO DECODE YOU LITTLE," "What? continue, go on, what were you gonna call me?" Naib teases, watching them stumble over their words.

"Let's talk later... in private" Naib says, not letting them continue as he races off to rescue William. They stand there defeated, their ass still stinging.

he has that stupid shit-eating grin on his face—HE DOESN'T EVEN HIDE THE FACT THAT HE'S STARING

when he rescues you, he makes sure he's right behind you so he can watch your ass jiggle in those fishnets as you vault over walls and pallets

he thinks your clothes are too thin—he wonders if you’d be able to stand the cold in leo’s memory

a pervert but he's your pervert

he can't help but want his hands all over your body

gets hard during the match, you're his first lover after all, he's never had someone to love and adore beforehand

he likes it when you're a brat, much more fun to break you

admires the fact that you can run and vault walls with those heels

he likes the whip, it's a very good weapon against the hunters, now if only he could use it

Naib's blue eyes stare into your own, a soft smirk on his lips as he rubs your hips. "Do you want me to continue?" he whispers against your neck, his knee rubbing against your clothed sex as you're pushed up against his room’s door.

#lawless.writes #idv.writing #identity v #idv scenarios #idv x reader #identity v x reader #identityv #gn reader #idv luca balsa #idv luca x reader #idv prisoner x reader #idv gravekeeper x reader #idv andrew kreiss x reader #idv postman x reader #idv victor grantz x reader #idv victor x reader #idv edgar x reader #idv painter x reader #idv cowboy x reader #idv kevin alonso x reader #idv naib x reader #idv mercenary x reader

[yourantag]

The Red Means I Love You (Edgar×Reader)

AN: This was supposed to be finished and posted on Valentine's Day. However, as you can see from the word count, that was a fool's errand. I wanted to delve more into yanderes since I find them fascinating in writing, and now, here we are. Staining White Day red, I present to you the most generic title for an Edgar fic you will ever see. (Btw, I apologize to Edgar fans- I might've massacred your boy but I swear I tried my best.) Word count: 4.9k words TW: Blood, violence, murder, yandere themes, and blackmailing. Summary: Accepting the invitation of a dubious letter sounds just about as bad as it actually was. Oletus manor is not a name spoken without notoriety, after all. Was that where it all began? Was this your first mistake? No, it was further down the line, wasn't it? Yes, perhaps it was when you became the muse of an artist with no inspiration.

Reality has disappointed you time and time again. The expectations of a life of peace was crushed easily under the hands of society. So, you fled. You fled inside your head, transporting yourself into worlds of fiction. Romance, mystery, fantasy, and the likes kept you alive. It was the only thing you could really call safe.

Among many genres, you favored one above the others. 

Horror.

There’s a certain comfort that comes from these fictional tales. You know they aren’t real, that the killer can’t find you, that these psychopaths don’t exist. Are there people similar to them? Sure, but they aren’t in your life. Thus, they merely stay as silly little people within a book.

But, it’s not quite enough. The thrill of words upon a page cannot compete with the real deal. While you weren’t stupid enough to seek out murderers or the like, you were still dumb enough for Baron DeRoss, apparently.

The envelope is white as a dove, a blood red stamp sealing it shut. It whispers promises and praise, false hope and rewards. It’s an enticing offer, truly. Would you let it guide you astray?

Well, you were never one to turn away from the call of the abyss.

-

“I really don’t get it. I know it’s game changing, but it’s not helpful for anyone else but me! Why do they want me to team up with them?” You huffed, resting your face on your palms. Edgar merely rolled his eyes, flicking his wrist. Focused on the canvas in front of him, he let the brush streak red through white.

“You said it yourself, your abilities are game changing. We don’t even know the full extent of your abilities– who knows? Maybe you could completely uproot the current meta. Besides,” He smirked, peering at you from the corner of his eye. “The hunters are terrified of you.”

You paused, letting your arms fall flat against the table.

“Scared? Of me? I’m just another survivor– what do they have to be afraid of?”

Edgar hummed, tapping the handle end of his paint brush against his lips. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t quite fancy being stabbed.”

Okay, yeah, that was fair.

Most survivors didn’t possess the ability to fight the hunter, not really, yet here you were. When Jack had first chased you, he had the reckoning of his life. You wince at the phantom feeling of stabbing steel into flesh and bone. That was, admittedly, not what you had expected to be your special skill.

You pouted, cheek against the cool wood of Edgar’s table as you glanced around. His room was an odd combination of an art exhibition hall and an actual bedroom. It was big and extravagant, but you wouldn’t expect any less from him. 

Well, kind of.

Edgar confused you. Intriguing, even among the sea of other unique characters within the manor. You suppose that’s why he’s your favorite comrade and closest friend, if you could call him that. He’s never kicked you out of his room or flat out yelled at you, so safe to say he didn’t hate you, at least. 

He’s neutral on all matters within the manor, composed regardless of what he faced. All he cared about was his art, nothing more and nothing less. Perhaps that was how he was unaffected by everything.

You suppose that’s natural for an artist. You can’t claim to understand it perfectly, but in a way, you truly understood.

“It’s like… you’re a moth drawn to a flame, right? Art is something you’re willing to give your life to, dedicate your whole body and soul to. Even if you have to sacrifice your time, energy, or health, for the perfect outcome, you’d do it.” You had said it off handedly, not thinking much of it then. In some respects, wasn’t his passion for art just like your obsession with thrill?

But then he had grabbed your hands, looking into your eyes with such fervor. His gaze burned, a certain desperation flickering within it. What was he seeking so fiercely? What was making Edgar, apathetic, snide Edgar, act like he had found an oasis in the desert?

“You get it?” He whispered, almost pleading. 

“Maybe,” You responded.

That had been enough for him. 

Since then, you and Edgar had become an odd pair. Not quite friends, but too close to be acquaintances. You gravitated towards him, as he did to you. More often than not, you’d ask him if he’d like to team up for matches. More often than not, he’d say yes.

You suppose that’s another reason why other survivors regard you with care.

Edgar isn’t the most difficult person to work with, but definitely not the easiest. He’s all too much and too little: haughty and snide, distant and cold. He’s a reliable teammate, not a likable one. 

Still, the playful sparkle in his eyes as he led the hunter straight to you made you beg to differ. You’d curse him out as you ran, glaring at him after the match was over, before begrudgingly thanking him for supporting you with a painting or two.

However odd it was, you wouldn’t trade your friendship for the world.

-

There’s a letter in your mailbox. 

That isn’t especially weird, considering that’s what a mailbox is for. Letters, mail, packages, whatever. Still, you can’t help but pause as you stare at it. A white envelope with a lovely red seal, the stamp itself in the shape of a camellia. The embossed flower is outlined in gold, shimmering softly in the low light of your room.

Gently, you pry open the seal, careful not to damage it or the envelope. Once you’ve successfully extracted the letter without destroying everything, you stare at it with uncertainty. 

It seemed like this was a love letter from the presentation alone, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit unsettled. You couldn’t understand why, however. It was beautiful, but simple. It wasn’t overwhelming, nor alarming. So why, from the depths of your heart, was your subconscious screaming at you to run? As though you were about to open Pandora’s box?

You unfold the letter and read.

-

Edgar gives you the nastiest side eye you’ve ever seen. Perhaps you deserve it after the stunt you pulled. Then again, what else were you supposed to do? He was going to be sent back to the manor if you hadn’t let yourself go down.

In the end, thanks to your sacrifice, the potential tie had turned into a win. Sure, you were the one sent back to the manor instead, but a win was a win! Though, Edgar seemed to disagree.

“You’re an idiot.”

You would be offended if it weren’t for the fact that he was wrapping your wounds. The tender touches were barely there, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. He was being careful, making sure you didn’t feel even an ounce of unnecessary pain. The concentration he was putting into taking care of you was something you had only seen when Edgar was painting. 

The subtle quirk of his lips, eyes barely narrowed, and relaxed shoulders expressed more to you than any words ever could. The guilt that pooled into his chest, made evident by the quiet sighs he’d let out, seemed to manifest itself as kindness and gentle care.

It made you really want to tease him.

“Ow!” You hiss, flinching slightly away from the man. Edgar freezes, staring at you with concern.

“Shit– sorry, I didn’t mean to.” The sincere remorse in his voice immediately makes you regret your decision.

“Wait, wait, wait, no, I– gah, sorry. I was just messing with you.”

The painter’s formerly soft expression faded into a scowl, a glare sent your way even as he finished wrapping you up. Edgar immediately stands up, leaving you scrambling to do the same as he leaves the infirmary.

“Ahhhh, wait, I’m sorry! Wait, Edgar, I’m sorry, I swear I won’t do that again! C’mon, don’t leave me like this! I–” You trip on something, stumbling as you lose balance. You fully expect to kiss the ground, what with one of your arms in a cast, when lithe arms catch you.

You glance up at Edgar with a sheepish smile, gazing upon the apathetic look upon his face. Apathetic, to anyone else but you. You can see the little curl of his lips, the faint swirl of amusement in his eyes.

He helps you reorient yourself, hands on your shoulders. Once you’re safely standing, Edgar turns and continues down the hallway. His steps are slower than usual. It’s probably the closest you’ll get to an invitation.

You grin, chasing after him once more.

“So does this mean you forgive me?”

“No.”

-

“How do you manage to stay sane, painting the same thing over and over again?” You ask, half dangling off a couch. Edgar’s room is still as grand as ever, but you can see the changes. It seems more lived in, more homey. There’s a table that isn’t covered in paint, brushes, or other art supplies. There’s shelves with books instead of art supplies. Then, those cabinets have, wait for it, something other than art supplies.

It seems like a small shift to others, though that’s probably because they don’t visit Edgar half as often as you do. The first time you saw the couch, you thought you were hallucinating. 

The Edgar Valden, using something other than a stool? Incredible, revolutionary, absolutely groundbreaking.

He did not appreciate your dramatics, or so he claimed, but you knew he was covering his mouth to hide his smile.

“I’m not painting the same thing, and I am, in fact, going insane.” Edgar responds, frown deepening as he mixes a few colors together. You hum, peeking at the canvas as much as you can from your position. From the sketch, you could tell it was a portrait. A rare occurrence, considering Edgar preferred landscapes.

“Why the sudden interest in portraits?” You ask, sitting more comfortably on the couch. Glancing at the shelves, you skim through the books. Edgar wouldn’t mind if you read one of them, right?

The man pauses, his expression almost bashful. It’s so bizarre you can’t help but raise a brow. Edgar has never been afraid to draw attention to himself. He’s no pushover, willing to fight for what he wants while still remaining relatively neutral. To see him like that, a dust of what can only be blush upon his cheeks, twists something in your heart.

Before you can untangle what exactly you were feeling, the painter coughs.

“Well, I tried talking with Victor about expressing oneself. He suggested letters, or other mediums I’m comfortable with. So…” Edgar stares at his canvas, his smile more so a grimace. “I’m trying out his suggestion, I suppose.”

You tilt your head, humming to yourself as you nod. Sliding off the couch, you grab one of the books on Edgar’s shelf. “Well, then I wish you the best of luck.”

His eyes linger on you, closing softly as his expression relaxes. When he opens them again, he starts creating new hues with more focus.

-

“I’ve been getting letters recently.” You mention, flipping another page in your book. Edgar paused, turning to look at you.

“And?”

You closed your eyes, contemplating. This really wasn’t something you had to tell him. But, well, nothing too interesting has been happening lately. The matches have finally grown duller, the thrill fading as you stayed longer. You were running out of things to ramble about, so why not?

“They’re love letters. Nicely decorated, with neat handwriting. If I had to guess, someone born into privilege.” You think Edgar flinches at that.

“It’s really sweet, honestly. A shame they’re anonymous.” You skim over the words on the page, brows knitting themselves tight. The main character was oblivious to the danger so close to them. How frustrating. 

“A shame, really.” Edgar echoes back, delicately brushing shadows along the red camellias. His painting seemed nearly finished, if you only stared at the beautiful flowers. The rest of the canvas was rather barren, a figure still not yet painted whole.

“C’mon, theorize with me! Who could it be? I put my bets on Jack.” You sighed dramatically, head thrown back with your hand on your forehead. 

You received no response, however.

“Hear me out! He called me darling, dear, and tried to kill me. Obviously, he fell for my sick kiting skills and great looks. I rest my case.” Still, nothing.

You were getting really worried with how unresponsive Edgar was being. Usually, when you started overexaggerating like that, he’d make a snarky remark. Something like “please, you get terror shocked at 5 ciphers” or “you make amphibians look appealing.” 

The silence was really getting to you.

“I mean, he’s got confidence in spades so it probably isn’t him. Still, I kinda hope it is, he’s rather attrac–” SNAP!

Your head snaps up from your book, turning to Edgar so quickly you nearly give yourself whiplash. There, in his hands, are the remains of a broken paint brush. Blood oozes from his tightly clenched hands, slowly trickling down his palm and under the cuff of his shirt. That was reason for concern as is, but the most startling thing of all was his eyes.

Blue, like the sky. Blue, like the sea. Blue, like the wings of a morpho butterfly.

Blue, like the swirling vortex of the night sky.

You rush over, grabbing the first aid kit you know he keeps for you, before standing next to him. You’ve never seen him like this, eyes so dark and blank. It’s honestly scaring you a little, but that means nothing when he’s hurt.

So, you kneel, pulling out tweezers, disinfectants, and bandages. Gently prying his hand open, you discard the larger pieces of the brush. With the tweezers, you pick out splinters of wood embedded in his skin. You whisper apologies as you do, knowing this definitely hurts, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.

By the time you finally disinfect his hand and wrap it, Edgar seems a lot more like himself than before. He gazes at you with quiet consideration, blinking slowly. Languid, calm, almost cat-like.

“Are you okay?” You ask, holding his hand. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him react like that. The kinder side of you hopes it’ll never happen again, if only so he won’t needlessly hurt himself like that. The morbid side of you wants to see him like that again, what you can distinguish as cold, searing rage threatening to consume him whole.

Edgar leans his head forward and onto your shoulder. The scent of citrus, chamomile, and something chemical tickles your nose, brushing against you as the painter sighs. He seems… tired.

“Let me rest my head, just for a bit.”

You don’t have the heart to say no.

-

The next few letters you get are… odd. Passionate as always, but far more obsessive. The first few had been sweeter, more tender. This was escalating in a weird direction, and as much as you loved yourself a good horror story, romance and horror never mix well. They were starting to threaten you, saying they’d hurt the people around you, and that was where you drew the line.

So, you start ignoring them. It sounds foolish, especially for a connoisseur of all things freaky, but life is more mundane than fiction. If this person doesn’t have the guts to confess to you, does it make sense that they’d have the guts to actually go through with their threats? Logically, no. 

Besides, even if they did, the people of the manor are strong. They can hold their own. Even if they can't, that person will get outcasted for hurting a survivor, regardless of if they’re a hunter. “No violence outside of matches,” that was the first rule both factions set.

So, it was safe to assume you had nothing to worry about. You have more important things to deal with, anyway, especially with a new survivor arriving. His name was Orpheus, a novelist. You were thrilled, especially since he was the author of some of your favorite series.

You were busy with preparations, practically skipping with joy. The other survivors poked fun at you, both for your enthusiasm and the lack of a certain painter at your side.

Edgar was concentrating on his art, as per usual, and you didn’t want to bother him. He seemed a little lonely, though, so you tried to convince a few people to talk to him. They all just looked at you as if you grew another head. 

“Are we… looking at the same person?” Mike asks, smile strained. You frown, turning away from the banners you were fixing. 

“Yes! Edgar Valden, our resident painter, our sassy rich boy, our lovely old friend. I say he is lonely, and I think you should talk to him. I mean, you’re easy-going, fun, and silly. Who wouldn’t like you?” Even if half of it was an act. Still, Mike was one of the people Edgar tolerated better than most. Perhaps it’s because he’s another form of an artist?

“Why can’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him yourself? You guys get along just fine.” Mike looks away, fiddling with his hands. You narrow your eyes at the sight.

Mike Morton, local funny man, someone with dedication and deceit running through his veins, nervous? It’s not faked, the sweat rolling down his neck and the faster breathing all indicating he was genuinely nervous. Maybe even scared.

“Edgar, I really do love him, but he needs more friends. I think the only people who talk to him on a regular basis are Luca and I. Adding a few more people to that list would be nice, so…” You bring your hands in front of you, clasped tight as if you’re about to pray. “Could you please talk to him?”

Mike deflates, sighing as he nods. You smile brightly in response, promising to make it up to him.

-

“Hey bestie! You excited for the new survivor?” Demi croons, grinning as she tosses an arm around your shoulder. You laugh in response, leaning into her.

“That’s about the dumbest thing you could ask me. Of course I am! He’s written so many good books. God, I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around him. He’s made some stories that have basically shaped who I am now!” You sigh, smiling so widely your face hurts.

“Well, don’t forget your boyfriend in all the excitement! I can see he’s basically seething with envy.” 

You pause, turning to look at Demi.

“Who?”

Now, it’s Demi’s turn to look confused.

“Uh, you know, Edgar? Are– are you guys not together?” She asks, genuinely shocked. You feel your face heat up, your hands itching to cover your blush. 

“Wh– no! We are not! Why would anyone ever think that?”

Demi gives you a deadpan expression in response.

“You two are basically glued to each other’s side, go into every match together, hang out almost every day– Hell, you’re the only one Edgar has allowed in his room without it being necessary!” 

Well, that’s news to you.

You furrow your brows, blinking in shock. Sure, you two hung out a lot, but it wasn’t like you guys were friends exclusively with each other. You had Demi, Mike, Melly, and even Violetta while Edgar had Luca, Victor, Andrew, and Galatea. It wasn’t like you… hung out… every… day…

“Oh fuck, we really do look like a couple.” You mutter, having half a mind to smack Demi as she laughs. She’s completely unapologetic about it, struggling to breathe as slowly calms down and giggles.

“So, you two aren’t dating?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows. You huff, fighting back a smile.

“Nope, not at all.”

“Then in that case, I’m allowed to flirt with you as much as I want!” Demi cheers. She spins you around, causing a laugh to bubble up from your throat. The two of your twirl around in a silly dance, the faint sound of Frederick playing the piano the only background music.

At the end, she dips you down, smile upon her lips. She leans close to your ear as your smile is wiped away.

“Be wary of him.”

-

With Edgar, it’s like you’re taking three steps forward, then five steps back. Just when you think you’ve got him all figured out, he throws a curveball at you.

That desperation he had in his eyes the day you became his friend, flickering like a brilliant flame, you understand it now. However much he claimed he didn’t need people to understand him, how he didn’t need to understand others, it didn’t mean much. He still craved it, to be understood. To not have to be questioned, to not be approached with dishonesty, with intentions that lied beyond just him being him.

You suppose that’s exactly why you got along. You wanted to understand him, and he wanted to be understood. A match made in Heaven, you suppose.

It’s why it miffed you a bit that you really can’t understand Edgar at the moment.

He hates drawing portraits, yet he draws a figure, the same exact one, in every one of his new pieces. They look familiar, a lot like you, but you’re pretty confident Edgar would rather die than paint you. You’d tease him to Hell and back, all while he complains and swears up and down he’s never being nice to you again.

The landscapes, adorned in reds of all shades, always have that figure in each one without fail. Is he in love with someone? That would explain why he’s so weird lately.

Edgar’s odd behavior was already messing with you, but on top of that, the letters were getting worse. Instead of being slid into your mailbox, they were flat out in your room now.

Normal people would think someone just slipped it under the door. Reasonable assumption. However, unless that person has not only a very thin arm, but a long one, you don’t know how they’d manage to get it all the way to your desk.

You stare at the white envelope, stamped shut with a red seal in the shape of a camellia. The outline of the flower is in gold, though the beauty of the letter and the seal means nothing. Not when it got into your room. Not when it clearly has a splotch of dark red glaring at you.

Your hands are shaky as you open the envelope, a familiar curl of thrill fighting with your new found protective instincts. The letter is white as a dove, the red tainting it made all the more stark.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you read.

‘I didn’t imagine love would be like this. Wonderfully warm, like the rays of the sun in winter, and unbearably painful, like a knife in my heart. Do you just like hurting me? No, I know that isn’t true. After all, you always look at me with concern when I’m injured. Still, it’s hard to believe you’re this dense.

These past few weeks have been driving me mad. Your attention has been solely on the arrival of the new survivor. You’ve been ignoring me so much I can barely stand it. Can’t you spare even a moment for me? Is that novelist really that important? Seeing you look at him with stars in your eyes… it makes me want to rip his head off his shoulders. He doesn’t deserve your attention, nor your admiration, not like I do. I’ve known you longer, loved you for longer. He doesn’t deserve anything from you, yet he gets everything I could ever want and more.

Did you know? When you’re excited, your smile turns bigger, more genuine, till dimples show. Your eyes crinkle just a little, your hands moving to curl in front of your chest. You stand taller, you shine brighter.

It’s such a beautiful sight, I hate that I have to share it. Sometimes, I wish I could just put you in a cage and never let you go. Then, you wouldn’t look at anyone else but me. You wouldn’t think about anyone else but me. But, that’s not how you should live. You deserve to be free and happy. So, I’ve decided to get rid of anyone that doesn’t deserve to be around you.

I think I’ll start with that novelist.’

Your blood runs cold.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Just who is this? Who are they and just why are they so obsessed with you? Get rid of those who don’t deserve you? Who gave them the right to decide that!?

You take a deep breath, desperately trying to calm your nerves. Your heart is racing, and for the first time, the thrill in your heart turns into true fear.

You’ve never minded being the one hunted. In fact, you practically adore it, the addicting rush of adrenaline pumping through you. It’s why you came to the manor. But your friends? They’re not the same, and you wouldn’t want them to be. You want them safe and happy, not hunted down by some freak who thinks they “aren’t worthy of you” for whatever sick reason.

“Fuck, fuck… Orpheus, I need to find– no, it’s probably too late for him, there’s blood on the letter. Okay, okay, stay calm, stay fucking calm. Who would be the next victim? Mike? Melly? No, it’s probably Ed–” You pause.

Almost comically, everything clicks in place.

Camellias.

Red.

Ignoring them.

Edgar.

You bolt out of your room.

-

Normally, you’d knock. You know Edgar hates it when people barge into his room. However, considering the circumstances, you think that’s the least of your concerns.

You can’t help but pray in your mind. To whom? You don’t know. You don’t think anyone can truly help in this situation. It couldn’t be anyone else but Edgar, but still, you prayed. You hoped against all hope that your conclusion was wrong. 

Edgar would scold you for barging in, sigh, before smiling and asking if you were really that desperate to see him. Everything would be fine. It would all be just a cruel joke.

But just as life is more mundane than fantasy, reality is far cruller than fiction.

The large windows to Edgar’s room let in the light of the falling sun, casting the room in many shades of gold and orange. In the middle of the room, in all his glory, is Edgar. His back is to you, paint brush in hand. You’re hit first by relief, then with the heavy scent of iron.

You shake, hands covering your mouth as you finally process what's around Edgar. Orpheus, drained of blood, head sat on a chair, body left haphazardly on the ground. Jack, ghastly white and face twisted, his horror eternally memorialized in death. Demi, eyes closed and serene, seemingly asleep if not for the purple veins that roam along her arms.

You fall to your knees, the shock hitting you so strong you can’t stand up any longer. He was your secret admirer. The one who kept sending letters. The one who went into your room just to place them on your desk. The one who threatened to kill your friends. The one who did kill your friends.

Edgar, finally, turns around. His cheek has splotches of blood on it, his hands no better. It’s startling just how much of it is on him, but worse yet, you know not all of it is on him. There’s a lot of blood in a human body, much more in two, so where was it?

When he smiles, it’s just as sweet as it was yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. Was this really your friend, or a demon in disguise?

His smile, ever so sweet, only serves to unsettles you, looking more like a nightmare.

“Ah, you’re here! Come, I need to show you my newest masterpiece.” Edgar steps closer to you, dragging you by the hand to a canvas you hadn’t noticed before. He was standing in front of it, so it was only natural.

You numbly follow, heart in your throat. You’re grateful, distantly, that the “masterpiece” is not the corpses of your friends. You think you’re going to throw up, eyes trying to look at anything but them.

So, you gladly look at his so-called masterpiece.

You really wish you didn’t.

There, on the canvas, is a portrait. This time, it’s so painfully obvious it’s you that you can’t even deny it. Surrounded by red camellias, hands curled in front of their chest, with a smile so genuine, dimples showed. Eyes crinkled, back straight, and God, did it have to be so accurate?

The red of the camellias are familiar, as is the red of your blush, the colors of your clothes, your hair. 

It’s all been painted using your friend’s blood.

Edgar comes behind you, his arms circling your waist. A content sigh leaves him, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hold is gentle, but firm, possessive in a way you never thought him capable of. His lips brush against your neck, a kiss much like a collar pressed into your skin. You can feel them curl into a smile.

“What do you think, my muse? The red means I love you.”

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv edgar #idv painter #edgar valden x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

[heartshapedbubble]

HIHI!! Dunno whether the birthday reqs are full but would it be too much trouble to ask for hcs of Edgar & Andrew having a crush on the reader (basically they're both crushing on the reader at the same time)?? I'm not sure whether this counts as jealous 'n stuff but I'm really sorry if it does & you can ignore this request !! 👍👍

HII SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!! i think this passes juuust underneath the line for jealous stuff so i'm up for it :]

putting a cw just in case bc andrew wants edgars ass DEAD lmao

edgar valden and andrew kreiss having a crush on the reader at the same time hcs🎨🕸

edgar valden🎨

jealousy is not something new to edgar, in fact, he knows it very well - his crush on you was heavily toned down and controlled, him making sure you don't notice him blushing or seeking physical touch, but his jealousy is going to throw him off his rocker and cause him to be very obvious and clingy

edgar generally likes to be a bit snobbish/braggy about his paintings and skills, but when he realizes you might get with andrew instead despite his talent he's going to become very worried. his jealousy unveals his number one weakness - someone being better than him. he was always number one in both his parents' and his mentor's eyes, being their precious little wunderkind that could provide them with a masterpiece with the flick of his wrist, and now all his talent is in vain because of someone who can't even compete with him? bullshit!

he doesn't show jealousy and doesn't like to admit it, but he'll often be passive agressive and make snarky remarks here and there. the most that it will come to (after days and days of edgar questioning both himself and you) is him directly asking you what exactly do you see in the anxious, clumsy gravekeeper

to combat this and try to win you over, edgar is going to be asking you out more frequently, even better if it's right in front of andrew, secretly scribbling sketches of you when you aren't looking, asking you to pose for his paintings, even giving them out to you for free - you'd be asking yourself if this is the same edgar you knew before.

although edgar does become immature and needy during this period of time, at the end he'll have to accept the truth if the case was you picked andrew over him. but if you chose him - oh man, where could he even begin? he'll make sure he gives you the best treatment he could provide to anyone ever

andrew kreiss🕸

andrew is such a horrendously bad liar that it's laughable. his crush on you can't even be considered a rumor spread around during the manor tea parties - it's something that the entire oletus manor claims as a fact. it even reached the hunters' side, which occassionally asks him the infamous question during the games to make him lose his balance and become a sweaty, blushing mess

when he finds out he's not the only one admiring you romantically, it awakes a flurry of mixed feelings inside of him. at first, he's hopeless, he's already dealt with collective social rejection and shame that it can't even phase him that much. but at the same time... you're not like them, are you? you treat him with such kindness and care, you couldn't possibly do that.. oh, but look at edgar! everyone admires his art, he's truly a virtuoso in the making! how could he compete against him? it's best for him to give up immediately..

oh, but wait. he could always yank him away during a match, hide his trusty shovel behind his back and....

yes, i'm being serious. andrew would 100% contemplate killing edgar. not being accustomed to any kind of social cues, it's simply the most logical solution for him - you just eliminate the obstacle. it's as easy as that. yet, is this what you'd truly desire? would he kill for you? in a moment of desperation the answer is yes, i would kill for them, but once he realizes what he's doing he's going to stop immediately, shocked by his own train of thought. he's definetly horrified of losing you, but his anxiety will make his fear sky rocket and come to such drastic conclusions.

to appeal to you he's going to become a bit more keen on initiating affection, and you might notice that the bouquets he makes for you became bigger and started arriving to your front door more frequently... he's just doing any little thing in his power, already knowing he's no match for the manor's quick-witted painter

if you choose edgar over him, he'll just take a deep breath and move on. it might be a burden to him for some time, but hey, it's not like he hasn't dealt with similar situations before. yet, if it's him you desire... he'll cling onto you for eternity, showering you with all the love he could ever give to somebody

#identity v #idv #idv headcanons #identity v headcanons #idv imagines #idv x reader #idv scenarios #idv fanfic #identity v x you #identity v x reader #idv edgar #idv edgar valden #identity v edgar #identity v edgar valden #identity v painter #idv painter #painter idv #edgar valden #idv gravekeeper #idv grave keeper #identity v gravekeeper #identity v grave keeper #idv andrew kreiss #idv andrew #identity v andrew kreiss #identity v andrew #grave keeper idv #gravekeeper #andrew kreiss #andrew x reader

[turbulentscrawl]

i haven't seen lots of edgar content lately,, maybe general hcs for edgar valden if you can? :D

👌

-Edgar is a tunnel-visioned, broken-hearted creator who spends most of his energy seeking out the meaning of life and a reason to live. After the death of his mother and sister, he gave up on fulfillment through love or friendship, and now appreciates the world only through his art. Otherwise, he is apathetic. He does remain cordial with people, though, like his mother taught him to be.

-Edgar is an observer in most senses of the word. He rarely cares to devote energy to conversation himself, so he watches and listens instead. He doesn’t have much remaining interest in participating in the ‘game’ that is society, or the subtle mind-games it requires, but he is intrigued by other people’s reactions to them. When he does interact with others, he expects it to be strait-laced. Anything else is a waste of his time. (In short, he’s nosey. He enjoys knowing all the gossip but very rarely spreads it himself.)

-In that same vein, if Edgar has a specific opinion on something, you know it’s because that something has inspired him in some way. Edgar is a Centrist and does not hold very strong views of political or social situations one way or the other. In general, he thinks it’s best to let people do what they want, so long as it doesn’t interfere with what he or anyone else wants.

-Since the betrayal of his master, he’s developed a strikingly low tolerance for interruptions and interference. Edgar’s artistic muse is the most important thing in life to him, and he’s already lost it once. He’s not willing to lose it again, and does not give a damn about what anyone else thinks about his methods of maintaining it.

-Edgar was used by people for so long for his artistic skills that he has a hard time connecting with anyone who’s first interest in him relates to that. Ironically, with time Edgar gets along well with people like Kevin, who was confrontational and distrusting of Edgar in the beginning. Kevin did not give a fuck about Edgar’s art, and disliked him for some entirely different principal. And his art neither salvaged Kevin’s opinion nor won him over when they were finally on neutral terms. People like that can be trusted to be genuine, as far as Edgar is concerned, and frankly Edgar doesn’t see conflict as a dealbreaker for friendships or relationships. Disagreements happen.

-He’s physically weak—this boy has never seen a day of recreational exercise in his life. He is, however, not squeamish or easily disgusted. He dislikes what he perceives as ugliness, but has no issues witnessing or interacting with dirt, grime, or gore. He’s also not easily frightened and tends to be one of the more level-headed survivors in matches. He holds a similar reverence to death as Aesop and isn’t afraid of dying in matches. Some little part of him wishes it could be permanent—as some final devotion to his art, his Swan Song.

-Edgar cross-dresses sometimes. He needs no particular reason for it, as far as he’s concerned, but if you must know it just comes down to ‘he likes what he likes.’ And he likes flowy skirts. He’s not the type to let the gender roles of a society he’s not even part of anymore dictate what he wears. Were he alive in a modern world, he may identity as Agender. He doesn’t care much about gender and just presents however he feels like on a given day.

-Outside of his art studio and bedroom, Edgar is terrible at keeping track of things. He’s blind to anything he sets down outside of those two spaces, it simply no longer exists to him. Other people in the manor are often returning his things to him (especially Joker, who has a knack for finding things without even knowing they were lost.)

-When he was younger, he was taught several other skills that were normal for young men of high class. Piano and dancing, for instance. he didn't like them enough to practice much after his mother died, but he's still decent at them.

-Edgar has commandeered several hallways of the manor to hang his art. He’ll probably take over more later—he’s got an eternity to make his art, after all.

#idv x reader #identity v #idv painter #edgar valden x reader #turbulentscrawl