#idv fanfiction

[heartshapedbubble]

Could I perhaps have something like those 2 long and well written Joseph and Luchino fic but with Soul Catcher? Thank you🙏

anon i am SO SORRY this took so long you might as well have my first born

also english isn't my first language so please have mercy on me i know i reuse the same words over and over 😔 reqs like these sadly clog my inbox even tho i like writing them so i'm gonna do something about them after i empty it!!

my very own prince charming, a soul catcher fanfic🧲☠️

cw for vomit mention in case you have emetophobia, reader's gender not specified although soul catcher uses a few spanish pet names (nouns) that are gendered because haha language rules, not proofread, warning for intense corniness, this is very bad i apologize, ALSO VERY LONG

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~

There are amazing forces of Attraction and Repulsion between souls; just like when fate guides some people together and causes others to part.

~

After a period of indecisive skimming through the bookshelf, you picked out a thick, hardcover book.

You'd consider yourself quite picky regarding books - just a flashy cover and a taunting description wouldn't do it for you. A beautiful, elegant maiden and a handsome, charming prince were just one-dimensional props in the story, and you found all of those "new " and "wonderful " fantasy worlds described and mapped out on the front page generic and bland. You always seeked out something new, something that would leave you thirsting and longing for each damned word pressed onto the yellowing paper, make your fingers trail over dozens of pages in mere minutes. Yet, considering your little town in the south was limited to just one small, dusty library, finding such books would be considered an extreme sport.

So for now, you had to be satisfied with the usual, popular literature that the townsfolk read.

But today was special - you weren't in the mood for something new, or something outstanding, in fact you'd even say you wanted to read something normal. Something you could nonchalantly mention to your friends during afternoon coffee, with a plot so malleable and simple it would be woven around your conversation like it was nothing. The misadventures of a rookie knight, or the sorrows of a young, noble lady, all interpreted differently and abstractly and able to be swiftly analyzed and twisted over a cup of overly sweet coffee. Although the pile of smooth, newly released paperbacks at the entrance intrigued you, a minute later you found yourself squished between two dusty, polished wooden shelves, inspecting the book you just picked out.

Well, you didn't know you'd stoop that low, but what caught your eye right now was a book of fairy tales and fables. It was an old release, presumably donated to the library considering the oil stains on the brown paper that wrapped itself around the thick leather cover. Although worn out by time and basically crumbling from the outside, on the inside the lettering was flawless and written in an old, thick cursive, and simply bringing your face closer to the text would bless you with the scent of old, yet well kept books - the fresh smell of walnuts and baldachin beds and white cotton dresses, and even lilac bushes in the spring. Although all of these associations were of a life unknown to you, for some reason they made you feel at home.

There was another reason for you picking out this particular book - a reason you'd rather carry with you to your grave out of pride, unable to bend your head down and admit it. When life got unbearable and overbearing and the only way you felt safe and well was under heavy linen bedsheets or in the shade of the old pear tree, you'd curl up and indulge in the exact same books you usually despise. A humbling experience, indeed, but at times where safety and love were most neccessary fantasies were the quickest, most low-key way of getting what you needed the most at the moment. Projecting your being onto the flat sheet of a protagonist, you'd visualise yourself instead of them, you being the one kissing the hero's fading scars or having your hair braided by the thin, nimble fingers of the king's son. The amount of scenarios was neverending, and, well, if you couldn't get your fix with all these readily available options, you felt like you're doomed.

The book was now set inside your trusty linen bag while you were walking home. Oddly, the usually loud and populated city market was silent and not a soul could be seen out on the street, not even a head popping out of the window or a hand reaching for the hanged clothes that hung on the ropes high above the rocky path. While you were crossing the town bridge, you decided to stop to take a deep breath and enjoy for a bit, now that you weren't being pushed onward by the citizens and the merchants that usually piled behind you.

It does take a while to learn savor things, doesn't it? It takes until adolescence until the dark chocolate on your tongue unveils its rich, deep and bitter flavor, until you learn how special that first sip of morning coffee is and how good of a feeling it is to simply have another hand wrapped around yours. Same goes for nature, you thought to yourself as you looked over the bridge, watching the river speed under the arch and the plants inside of it wave around like silk scarfs. Without the noise pollution, you were finally able to hear the satisfying noises of the water sloshing over the rocks, droplets hitting each other every second. Without a second thought, you laid beside the edge of the bridge, your bag lazily hanging off of your wrist, and let yourself get lulled to sleep by the melody of the current.

That is, until the straps of the bag slipped off of your wrist.

Fuck.

You immediately jumped to your feet in panic, looking around for your bag. Yet, it was too late. It was nowhere to be found - it was probably already driven away by the river, taken to god-knows-where.

Well, it's not like you weren't aware of the risk. But your heart still ached - that was not your book, after all. And what a beautiful, old edition it was as well! There was no way you'd be able to properly apologize to the librarian, unless....

"Oye, muñeca, ta libre."

You jumped at the sudden voice whispering at your ear. You were sure no one was around here except you... or maybe..?

Slowly turning around, your face was met with another, yet wider, lathered with paint and shaded by the hat above's enormous brim. As the face moved away from yours and the person straightened their back, you found yourself gazing up and down at - what seemed to be, at least - a tall, youngish man, couldn't be above 28. Dressed in gaudy purple, green and black, adorned with flowers and gilded accessories, he looked like a living puppet, his chest and shoulders wide and his waist slim, proportions of a wooden harlequin they sold during the holiday season in the toy shop. Hanging off of his wrist was your beloved linen bag, the forsaken book inside still in tact, not a single droplet of water blemishing the paper.

"Who...? How did you...?" You muttered nonsense, as your arms needily reached for the bag that he gently waved around. Props to the visuals, but you had your priorities.

"It's all reflexes, sugar. Was taking a nap underneath the bridge, you know, all that wandering around numbs out your legs, and your little sack here just happened to fall close enough to my hand for me to grab it in time. Be a little more careful next time, will you, doll?" The man-puppet replied nonchalantly as he tossed the bag into your arms.

"Thank you, I- wait, what?" You quickly snapped out of your daze. "Napping? Under the bridge? "

"Don't judge it before you try it", he whistled, crossing his arms behind his head, "The cobblestone ain't the comfiest, but it does wonders for your back."

You sneered at his carefree expression, as if lying under a bridge was the most normal thing to do. Who exactly was this fellow, and who did he think he was?

"And you expect to believe me all that?"

"Hm?" He jolted a bit, not expecting a question, maybe a compliment, but definetly not a skeptical remark.

"Napping under a bridge? Seriously? You catching my bag is impressive, yes, but there's no way it was that much of a skillful feat. You probably dozed by the river's shore and suddenly found a bag by your side like any other guy at this hour. Who are you even, some wannabe-show-off-superhero?"

To your suprise, he just smirked back at you, lowering his torso until his face was just inches away from yours. So close, you could feel his warm breath on your cheeks, and his raspy voice rumbled inside your ears.

"How about you take a wild guess."

Stumped by his question, you took a few steps back. Your eyes now digesting his form in his entirety, you rubbed your chin as you gazed up and down at the man, posing, obviously very into the careful stare you were dissecting him with.

"Enjoying the view, hm, azúcar? "

"Give me a break! I'm trying to focus." You mumbled, panicking a bit, sensing that your cheeks started to flame up. To be honest - even under all that fabric and thick paint, he was quite a looker. The black paint defined his jawline in all the right places, and man, that silly outfit of his was tailored pretty damn well, gripping his legs and his biceps enough to define them nicely.

Although visually he was as fancy as a rich man's birthday cake, nothing seemed to pop out from his outfit, as if every embroidered piece of textile and every golden stud was carefully planned out. However, upon better inspection, one of them seemed to take the cake - it was the small shiny skull on top of his hat, shaped like a squished pear, a few nails stabbed into it like birthday candles. The cherry on top of it all - metaphorically and literally.

"The skull on your hat... looks like a well-made prop to me. You're some kind of entertainer, huh?"

A playful smile appeared on the lad's lips, yet it wasn't a confirming one. "You're getting closer, but no, not exactly."

"Street musician?"

"I can be one if you desire, but it's not exactly my main job."

"Actor?"

"Only behind the scenes, dear. But I can see by the look in your eye that you're going to head in the right direction." This little guessing game seemed to amuse him to no end.

"With all that flashy wear, it seems fair to assume you might even be some kind of high-end magician, performing for nobles or aristocrats. Or some wannabe wizard."

He bit his lip, the smile widening with each guess. He seemed more excited about this than you were.

A flower painted around his left eye. A belt fastened around his waist, with a big golden buckle. Sheer black gloves covering his hands in their entirety, bones painted in gold on his knuckles and fingers.

A glowing ring - no, a disk - hanging from the side of his belt, rocking with the movement of his hips.

Wait. It couldn't be. The disk looked too...

"Hold on a second. You couldn't be..."

"Sí, muñeca? "

"Are you..."

Before you could even finish your sentence he grinned from ear to ear and inched even closer to you, his nose now touching yours, as if he just managed to read your mind.

"Bingo."

~

The legend of the Soul Catcher was told times and times again, twisted and folded like fresh taffy to suit every possible scenario in one's life. To children, it was told to scare them into going to bed in time. To teenagers, it was told to ward them off from the forest at the edge of the town. To young adults, it was told to motivate them into becoming independent and to work hard. To newlyweds, it became a prayer, to protect the newly formed family and to bring safety to their home. He was not the Reaper, but if a soul was left astray, detached from the body it resided in, everyone knew well that once the Soul Catcher gets his hands on it, that it won't be back ever again. He was both a devil and a saint, a villain and a vigilante - but one thing was sure, he was well respected. No one knew if it was out of fear or out of genuine admiration. And what was even weirder - not a single person was sure if he ever actually existed.

Not a single adult, at least.

The legend was not a new one, in fact, it has been told for a little less than a century. If you were to have a little extra patience and attention, you could hear the town's elders occassionally mumble about seeing him as a child in the forest, or him visiting them in a dream. But their interpretations varied from tale to tale - he went from a spirit, to a ghoul, to simply an omen, either good or bad. Since the townspeople couldn't agree on a single, concrete definition, the Soul Catcher remained a concept, embodied by what seemed to be multiple entities.

However, if you were to ask a child about the Soul Catcher, you'd get a much more vivid and universal description than anything an adult could tell you. All of them were along the lines of "magical jester", and what was weirder, almost all of the children confessed that the Soul Catcher played with them. And no, it wasn't just a single sighting, he played with multiple kids at once, even going as far to balancing three of them on his shoulders and telling them stories. During the hot, damp afternoon hours of the summer, huge groups of children snuck out of their homes just to play with him. When their mothers soaked their cramped hands and their fathers took their first break after the morning shift, their beloved kids were out on the dusty streets, carefully following every word seeping off of the Soul Catcher's silver tongue.

The only thing that bound the varying opinions and theories of both the young and the old was the trusty disk that always hung by his hip, rumored to be the tool he used to attract and harvest souls. And this same legendary disk was now hanging off of the belt of the man in front of you, green and purple mist enveloping it.

The myth himself, in the flesh, in front of you.

"You were quicker than I thought you'd be. Bravo, dollface." He smiled and patted your head. "If we ignore your initial hostility, you seem quite confident in the fact that i'm the real deal. Mind telling me why?"

"Well, you don't see someone parading around with THE exact disk that the Soul Catcher uses. Everyone agrees on the main description of its appearance, but to be completely fair, no one around here is skilled enough to make a replica that's convincing enough."

"I see. It's nice to see somebody with both the wits and the pretty face." He chuckled. Who would have known that he's such a flirt? Nontheless, to your shame your face lit up at his silly compliment. There was just something about him that made you weak in the knees.

"Alright. I believe I should prove you I'm the real thing now." He unhooked the disk from his belt, spun it around in his hand, and hopped a few steps away from you. He pointed the disk at your chest, positioning himself as if he's getting ready to react to a suprise attack. You didn't know what he was trying to do, but you felt as if you shouldn't make a sound or even object to it.

A tension-filled silence wrapped around you two for 20 seconds. After 10 more which seemed more like 10 minutes, you felt your body move. Move, although your legs were planted at the same spot they were before. Your head ached and pulsed, you felt dizzy as if your intestines were tying themselves into knots. To be sick without actual pain, to move without any movement, what was he doing to you? If this keeps up, you might just end up vomiting out your stomach along with its contents. It was like being carsick, except the sickness rumbled not only through your abdomen, but through each one of your limbs as well.

"Here, I stopped. It's all over. Sorry for this."

The headache seemed to halt, and your body was back to normal, yet your hands and legs still felt a bit sore. He was now above you, his hand stretched out to your sides in case you lost your balance.

"...What did you just do to me?" You yawned, trying to stand up straight again.

"What you just experienced was your soul being harvested from your, already inhabited, body. I usually refrain from doing this, but I felt like I should let anyone that witnesses me up close go through this. Y'know, I want to be honest with people. That although they've seen me in the flesh and talked to me, they're fully aware of what I can do so they can prevent themselves from getting harmed."

"Does this imply you sucked someone's soul out from their living body?"

"Maybe", he shamefully turned his head away, "but it was never on purpose. Usually it was them reaching for the disk, or trying to see it up close. It pains me, since in most cases it's nearly impossible to return the original soul to its old body."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Sorry for ruining the mood, I felt like I needed to warn you first."

"Oh no, seriously, it's alri-"

"May I walk you to your house, jewel?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me the first time." He extended his hand, waiting for your next move.

~

What a peculiar man, indeed. First he tries to suck out the life out of you to give you a heads-up, and then he offers to walk you home like a gentleman.

And you'd be lying if that offer didn't sound thrilling. So now, your hand was intertwined with his, you trying to slow down as much as possible to make the moment last.

"I realized I had forgot to ask for your name. My apologies. Not very gentlemanly of me, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't mind it. It's ____."

"___..." He looked up at the sky, rubbing his chin, as if he was trying to remember something, your name echoing on his lips multiple times.

"Pretty name, but it doesn't ring a bell. You're not among the horde of youth that I visit, are you?"

"Nope. I'd say i'm more of a loner most of the time. I like socializing and all, but nothing's like a good book that you can read in one sitting."

"I figured. No way in hell I'd forget such a cute face like yours, even if I saw it for a split second." He smiled and pinched your nose. If his plan was to drive you insane, he was incredibly effective.

"How come people have such different reports about you? Can you shapeshift?" Trying to lead a conversation with him felt like navigating through a mine field - there were no known limits, no known good or bad questions, or any shared topics you two could talk about. But you'd lie if you said it didn't excite you - waiting for his response, never being able to predict the next word that will come out of his mouth.

He sighed. "If you wore the same pair of pants every day, wouldn't you get tired of it?"

"I suppose..?"

"Well, yeah. It's that. Mix it with hallucinations the brain dials up once it's met with something outside the world it knows, and here's your answer. I'm no sprite or shapeshifter, just a regular guy who made a regrettable deal years ago. I might have the powers of the dead on my side, but at what cost?"

You shrugged. As much as you wanted to quiz him and get him to talk about himself, right now biting your tongue and playing it cool seemed like the best idea. Getting deeply invested in his life might not lead to good places.

"So... you're one of those so-called bookworms, hm? You've been carrying a book inside that bag of yours the entire time, too." You could feel his hand slip from yours, trailing across your arm to your shoulder, then to the other, gripping it softly. His touch felt warm on your skin, very human and real despite what he did for a living.

"...Yeah. In fact, I was just on my way from the library back at the bridge where I met you. I just borrowed it." You smiled shyly, holding the bag tightly in your arms. Knowing his curiosity and boldness, a feeling of panic unfolded in your chest, dreading what he might say next.

"Mind me taking a peek at what you're reading?"

Aaand this was it. The moment you prayed will not happen, but his chin was already resting on your shoulder, trying to get a peek at the contents of the bag.

"H-hey, hey! Back off! That book's my business, after all!" You giggled, holding it tighter and tighter, trying to laugh off your growing anxiety. If there's one person that you wouldn't like knowing about your little self-indulgent hobby, then it was Soul Catcher. But your tightest grip was easily undone by his loosest, and now your book was in his left hand, clumsily open, and the digits of his right were buried in the strands of your hair, holding your head away with careful but great strength. Even with your annoyed and panicked groans and your hands clawing at him, he simply couldn't miss the opportunity to steal a look at a few titles.

"Calm down there, you're acting as if it was a pipe bomb that you were carrying!" He chuckled, trying to stay composed as his body lost balance under your pushes and pulls. Yet your delight was short-lived, as only a second was needed for him to spread the pages open with his thumb and smugly read some of the titles out loud.

"Cinderella, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty... seems like someone's a sucker for Prince Charming, hm?" He snickered, but gave in to your pleas and dropped the book right into your sack.

"Would it hurt your pride to not dig through others' stuff?" You hissed, patting the bag in relief. "A-and is there something so wrong with indulging in childhood comfort anyway?"

"Oh, not only would it hurt it, it would kill it. Besides, something tells me that this little guilty pleasure of yours goes beyond just childhood comfort", he whistled in his usual self-satisfied tone, yanking at his suspenders, "But hey, who am I to say?"

"Oh, does it?" You gave him a taste of his own medicine, grimacing right at his face, making sure each word rumbled through his skull. "Well, what if I told you that such absurd assumptions are indeed incredibly untasteful, especially when left unelaborated? Just imagine how much of a hit that could be to your fragile ego..."

"¡Dios mío! You couldn't possibly...!" He dramatically threw his head back. At least something was true - he really was an actor behind the scenes. "Oh lord, it truly seems like the only way to make it up for you, your majesty, is to explain myself beneath your ice-cold gaze, like an accused pauper chained and laid before the king!"

Both of you laughed away at your ridiculous actions.

He cleared his throat, after a good minute of dying from laughter. "O-okay, where were we? Ah, yes, your dirty little secret." With his hands crossed behind his back and his gaze innocently directed at the sky, it seemed like this was a touchy subject for him, too. "Well, from all my previous experiences with people, I noticed that a lot of them like to fantasize about, well, a world where everything is just better - usually some kind of unrealistic fairytale utopia. It helps them feel better about their problems, especially during adolescence." His eyes briefly shifted to yours, watching them as if he's waiting for you to point out a fuck-up nested in his wording.

"Alright, continue...?"

"And, uhm, although fairy tales are meant for kids and all and are read by them, these same adolescents use them as a vessel for said utopias, or simply, a medium."

His lips were pressed into a firm line, waiting for your feedback.

"Bravo, jester", you treated him with a teasing smile, ruffling the stray locks of hair peeking out from his hat, "You got yourself out this time."

"Well then, call me Houdini." He smiled back, scratching the back of his neck. "Jeez, even though that fantasy thing should have gotten into my skull for the most part, I still can't fathom what's so special about the Prince Charming trope.. It's so annoying! Are y'all really drooling over the same guy in different fonts?"

"To be fair, it leaves a lot to the imagination. You can interpret him however you like, twist his personality to your liking."

"But that's exactly why it's horribly overused! Dressing every fictional man in a suit of already desired personalities is... boring! No variety, no depth - nothing! Do they really not find real people with actual lives, emotions, thoughts and opinions more appealing?"

It was a bit funny, him getting worked up over this, as if he was deeply insecure about it. You decided to fuel the fire a bit.

"Well, what does your average Prince Charming have that, let's say, I lack?"

"A great personality?"

"Oh, come on. Now you're just being mean." He sighed, traces of laughter in his sigh. "Damn you, muñeca." You chuckled.

"Big muscles?"

"These babies don't look defined to you?" He pouted jokingly, flexing his arm. Shit. Your face warmed up for a bit. For a second, a satisfied grin appeared on his face, liking the reaction he coaxed out of you through your composed armour.

"Strength and brave- AH!" You didn't even get to finish your sentence, and a moment barely passed, but his left arm was already wrapped around your calves, his right under your arm and around your back, his body leaned into yours and suddenly - you were hanging off his shoulder stomach-down, like a potato sack. "Oh my god yo- put me down!"

He whistled, holding you down to supress your squirming. "Strong enough for you, doll?"

"Not fair..." You groaned, lifelessly plopping onto him.

"You didn't answer my question~"

"Yes. Strong enough." It was quite enjoyable up on his shoulder, actually. After the initial panic passed it became nice, the rhythmic bouncing of his walk lulling you to sleep. You could get used to this.

"Now that's music to my ears." He showed no sign of letting go any time soon, perhaps he liked the smell of your perfume on your neck, and your weight resting on top of him, like a thick winter blanket.

"Since you've already decided to pick me up, would you be kind enough to carry me to my house?" You mumbled, your eyelids already feeling heavy. "That house, over there." Pointing at the tall, cobblestone house, you yawned.

"Entiendo, sirenita."

~

"How did you- actually, you know what? Nothing can suprise me anymore. You climbed up my balcony, didn't you?"

The sun was setting, and Soul Catcher was leaning against the railing of your balcony, your bag thrown around his frame.

"Actually I slid off the roof, but you're not that far off, beautiful." Every time your name was replaced - or you were simply called by - a soft pet name coming from his mouth, you felt as if your stomach would explode. Something about the way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, whispering endearments to you like you're the only person remaining in the world along with him. And whenever he read and peered through your façade as your face turned red and your breathing got deeper, he took a step further, engaging in the sensual, mental tango forming around you two. "I forgot to return your bag. Sorry."

"It's alright. I appreciate that you went out of your way for me." Gosh, the way you tortured him! Whenever he was smooth and flirtly and you punched him in the face with your kind, unfiltered smile instead of flirting back, it was like his heart was momentarily shattered into pieces and then bound again. The irresistable two-step of games and suave words was driving him insane and momentarily, in his mind it was your face, and your body, and your voice that called for him and your coldness clashing with his warmth, and it was making him dizzy. Behind his eyes, his brain was melting, and his heart was no different. To fall so quickly for a stranger - well, it's no secret that he's been depraved of actual love and affection beyond one night stands and empty promises to dozens of lovers from different times - was nothing new to him, but this attachment was not the same, it was permanent, stable, and wasn't going away any time soon.

"So, ___..." You turned quickly. When it was just your name and not something snarky on his lips, it seemed more important. "...You got any plans for the evening?"

"Oh- not really. Do you, though?"

"Not a plan, but rather an idea, a proposition, even." His voice was breathier as if he was nervous, coughing up the words from his chest. "If you want to, we could, y'know, watch the sunset together. I'm quite fond of sunsets myself, so I was wondering..."

"So you're proposing a date?" A date. As if he flinched when he heard the word.

"Well, yeah, a date, if you want to call it that." He said as he bit his lip. "Are you up?"

"Why not?" You whispered, creeping slowly towards him. "That sounds like a nice way to spend the evening."

"I'm glad." he smiled. In that little moment all of his confidence returned, and now his voice was clear again and he was back on his feet, jumping on top of the railing like the most skilled of acrobats and making his way to the roof. "You're coming, no?"

"And how exactly do you want me to come?"

"Grab my hand. Come on." His hand hanged from above, pushed as far as possible to reach you. "I'll pull you up."

You gulped. Heights remained a minor fear of yours ever since childhood, and having to face said fear head-first out of nowhere wasn't very appealing. "But what if I fall?"

"Believe me, muñeca, you won't."

"How can you be so sure!?"

He took a deep breath, trying to speak as gently as possible to calm you down.

"Trust me, ___. It's my hand around yours, no one elses, and my strength that's going to pull you up. I'm here for you. Please."

You didn't know when, you didn't know how, but the height suddenly stopped being a problem and, in a flashing moment, you were in his arms, being pulled to the middle of the roof.

~

"The clouds are such a beautiful color today. Light pink, as if they're crowning the sun before the moon rises."

Your back facing him, his chin on your shoulder, his breath on the nape of your neck.

"It's even more beautiful right before it goes down. They turn blood red, melting with the sky."

His arms wrapped around you, your hand around his wrist, your legs thrown over his.

"Do you have to go soon?" You whispered with a heavy heart.

"I should go." He suddenly stopped. "But I don't want to."

"Please. Stay for another moment."

He pulled you closer and closer to him, now his mouth right by your ear.

"Of course. A moment."

And it was more than a moment.

And more than an hour.

And only the crescent moon was the witness, and what it saw was sealed for eternity once the sun rose on the horizon again.

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[olliesneweyes]

Please comfort me, angels divine (1.7k words)

In which Andrew is not very mentally healthy.

(This fic is about Andrew but the pov is on Norton and Luca! Not intended as a ship fic but could be seen that way)

The otherwise-silent manor hall was filled with the sound of clicking boots. The boots in question belonged to a certain Norton Campbell, who had chosen this hall specifically to wander down because he needed to have a talk with someone.

Now, saying that, he probably shouldn't be walking towards said someone's door with a blood-stained monocle clasped in his hand. But by the time he'd thought about that he was already halfway to the door, and he figured he might as well continue.

The monocle used to (and technically still does) belong to Orpheus. Oh how he hated Orpheus right now. But he'd already gotten his revenge in, so his internal fire happened to just be hot coals at the moment.

“Room 3-0-1” was written on one of two plaques on the door in front of him. The other read “Andrew Kreiss”. This was the right room, certainly, though Norton still hesitates.

Andrew's been locked inside his room since… Well, it was Orpheus who started it.

That damned man had always been a gossiper. A (very annoying) storyteller by nature, he liked to spin tales about the other manor residents. Everyone knew these rumours were most likely false, and yet they still spread like wildfire.

Sometimes you could tell that people's hearts weren't in it. That they just wanted a fun story to talk about, even at the expense of others. Norton understood that.

But Orpheus decided to go after Andrew one day. God knows how he thought that was a good idea. Andrew worries if you look at him with even a pinprick of hate. People whispering things about him being some kind of monster or changeling when they think he can't hear was clearly torture to him, given how almost immediately after Norton noticed this was happening he'd found Andrew silently crying his eyes out.

The “demon” comments were the worst. Andrew was quite clearly some flavour of religious, and even without understanding what he actually prays to, Norton could tell that phrasing was doing a lot of the damage to his psyche. Norton had tried to do damage control as much as he could. So what if he yanks on their heart and tells them exactly how much Andrew cries at night because of what they said? It's their damn fault for saying it in the first place.

If that wasn't bad enough, Orpheus had happened to make a comment towards Luca. Luca was one of Andrew's closest, if not only friends. He was one of the only things Andrew would go out of his way to defend.

As far as Norton heard, Andrew had seemingly been building up discreet anger all day, but whatever Orpheus said in that moment was enough for him to snap. Before anyone knew what was happening, the normally meek gravekeeper had stood up to shout at Orpheus because how dare he try to taint the name of such a blessed man—

Andrew's never liked conflict. And from how he reacted in hindsight, it's pretty clear that he just thinks the manor hates him much more now. Which is why Norton's standing in front of his door, hesitating and lost in thought. Has it been a week now? A bit more?

The exact day doesn't matter. What matters is trying to get through to him that no, he will not be instantly crucified if he steps out of his room.

Better late than never, Norton knocks the door. There's movement. Then nothing.

“Andrew?” He calls through the cracks in the doorframe. There's no keyhole or letterbox, so it'll have to do.

Movement again. Andrew's steps are accented by the scraping tin sound of his shovel hitting the floor. Norton has no time to dwell on if he's really trying to walk with it or just dig through the floorboards before there's a thud. It sounds very close to him, despite being separated by the door.

Scrambling hands seem to fidget with the door lock, before stopping.

“...door's open-” Comes a rasp from Andrew. Norton winces. His voice always sounds sickly, but not like… that.

Norton decides not to waste any more time. He pushes open the door.

It's much, much worse than he thought.

-------

Luca Balsa was in the middle of watching his friend and sort-of-roommate, Emil, try to twist two particularly shiny strands of metal wire together into a flower shape, when a thud from somewhere on the floor made him flinch.

Looking around the room, he doesn't see anything that could have potentially fallen down. So he assumes that it was from someone else's room, and ignores it. There's voices down the hall, though. Or one voice speaking very strongly.

He can't quite place who they are, or what room the noise is coming from, but it's clearly grabbed Emil's attention alongside his own.

“Is that Mr Campbell?” Asks Emil.

“Probably.” Luca’s pretty sure it is, but it'd be rude to eavesdrop. And the conversation seems to have moved into one of the rooms anyway. So Emil continues to make his flower, and Luca continues to watch.

It's about ten minutes (or from what Luca could tell, it was about ten minutes. He keeps forgetting to put a clock in here.) before there are more sounds. A rather loud set of sounds. That of boots running very fast towards the door. They stop directly in front of it and leave him to stew in concern for a moment before the door is pushed open by a very stressed looking Norton Campbell.

“Hh- hello” He starts, still trying to catch his breath. “We've got a problem. An Andrew problem.”

Oh. Oh no.

“Is he alright?” Luca asks dumbly. He's definitely not, in fact, alright, given the look on Norton's face, but it's probably good to ask. Maybe he'll explain?

“Of course he's no— okay look, I… don't think he's eaten or slept since the argument the other day.” Right. The argument. Somehow that had completely slipped Luca's mind. “I don't know how to help. Three confused people are probably more helpful than one guy who I'm not even sure he considers a friend, so…”

Norton trails off into silence. Luca knows even less how to help. Andrew was always the one reminding him to care for himself, why has Andrew suddenly neglected himself, despite everything? And even if he was just scared to go get things, then-

“Oh… should we have helped sooner…?” asks Emil. Luca should have helped sooner, definitely. It was inevitable that Emil would forget, but Luca's trying to be the responsible one, damn it! Why did he have to forget!

“From what he said, he told you to leave him alone. He definitely wouldn't have come and got you. If he was left to his own devices. It's not your fault.” Norton being the voice of reason when Luca can't, as always.

“Why not?”

“You can ask him when we get there, Emil.”

Right. They were going to visit him.

And just like that the conversation was over.

Several pairs of feet step awkwardly into Andrew's room.

The lights are off, with the worn curtains only letting in a dim glow from outside to illuminate the place.

Luca's never been in this room before. It's a bit eerie.

The doorway faces a bed with too-neatly folded sheets. Norton was definitely right about Andrew not sleeping, at least assuming he slept there.

The bed faces a window where the light flickers through onto both sides of the room. One contains a wardrobe and some sort of gallery wall with images he can't make out.

The other side contains a shelf covered in all manner of rosaries, old books, and what appears to be metal. Next to that is some kind of dresser draped in cloth that blocks most of the mirror that he can see.

And next to all of that… is Andrew. He's practically lying on the floor as he kneels, with how close his head and shoulders are to its wooden surface. His eyes are shut.

He's not asleep, though. Luca sees the cross clasped in his tired hands, and hears hushed whispers stop as he notices their entry. He's been praying.

At that, Norton turns to leave. “I'm getting stuff from the kitchens for you all,” he says. “I'll be back in twenty.”

Luca guesses that's a sympathetic way of telling them to go deal with him. He can't blame the man. The door shuts, leaving them alone.

“Andrew?” Emil says into the heaving silence. “Are you alright..?”

Andrew's reaction is quick given how tired he looks, but it's still rather sluggish. He looks surprised to see them. Maybe a bit… fearful.

“'m alright…” is echoed back to them. He sounds horrible, speech broken and slurring, but there's a faint smile in his voice. “why’re you…” He trails off on every word.

“We're here because we want to comfort you.” Luca's tongue unties itself. “You're in pain.”

Andrew blinks at him. Maybe he doesn't realise that fact.

“I’ss alright, angel… ‘ll be okay…”

“But you aren't..” Emil crouches down next to him.

Andrew says something under his breath. Is he still praying? Maybe this is the area where he does it. It's probably best to move him if he keeps slipping back into doing that.

“Can you put the cross down?” Luca asks. It's not quite an order, but it is an instruction. He wants to pick Andrew up and lift him to bed himself, but that'd go disastrously. So he tries to herd him.

Andrew shakes his head. “nneed it to…” Luca cuts in.

“Pray? You've done more than enough of that by now. It's alright.”

He wouldn't be surprised if Andrew had been here for hours.

“M’re than… enough..? I did too much? Ssorry angel..” the man mutters. The cross is out of his hands now, laid on the floor next to him. There's still imprints of where it was. It looks sharp.

“It's alright…” Emil says. “You're not in trouble…” They wrap an arm around Andrew to try and stir him to his feet, only for him to lay his head on their shoulders instead.

Another mumbled sorry from Andrew. But sleeping here on the floor is much better than not sleeping at all.

Andrew lays down, properly this time, and closes his eyes. He can't be feeling well at all, and yet he smiles.

They stay like that for a very long time.

#andrew kreiss #Luca Balsa #Norton Campbell #Emil mesmer #identity v #idv #idv prisoner #idv prospector #idv gravekeeper #idv patient #idv fanfiction #Ollie writes

[smittenroses]

Hiii

If you have time could you write Hastur comforting (or helping in his own strange way, he's still an eldritch god lol) overstimulated reader.

Sensory overload has been kicking my ass recently </3

Your work makes me so happy, and motivated me to start learning how to write in my free time

— To Be Human

ask box open | commissions open | hit the tip jar | Patreon

Fandom — Identity V Pairing — Feaster | Hastur/reader (suggest this takes place in the same universe as the Mouse and the Cats) Summary — Hastur's knowledge of humans is still lacking. You constantly confuse him — he adores that. Content Warnings — mentions of Hastur eating people Word Count — 532 words Author's note — when I got this in my inbox my heart bloody melted, nonnie. To be the person that motivates you to learn how to write is such an honor and I do hope to be able to read your stuff sometime in the future 💕

Endless knowledge, endless power, and yet Hastur always found himself to be confused by you. So tiny, so frail against his mighty form, one that you had grown close to despite the knowledge he had feasted on mortals, feasted on the innocent and guilty alike, yet you always sought comfort in his endless robes.

“For what does my most devote follower need?” He asked one day as he felt your presence against the back of his robe, feeling the way your arms came to wrap around the vast colours of soiled yellows and whites of his sins, your face pressed against the fabric that smelt of the sea. When you did not reply, he allowed his body to shift ever so slightly to look down at you, seeing the way your hands trembled and shook. Though his form of slightly involved his body contorting in inhuman ways, his spine audibly growing and shaping in order to allow him to commit the impossible.

Like a rabbit or sheep ready for the dinner table, your soul smelled divine to him as the two of you stood in the manor’s library.

“I cannot aid you unless you speak up, mouse.” His hand came to cup itself under your chin, raising your face away from his clothes, tentacles appearing from the abyss to slowly stroke at your legs. “Ah, have you been crying, little one?” He muttered, his thumb coming to caress your cheek. “I can smell your sadness,” he muttered softly, even if his voice may boom like the mountains in your mind, “who did this to you?” To make a devotee cry, to sadden the one thing that did not fear him besides the snake wrench that wandered the halls, it was a notch on his soul, one that fanned the embers of rage that constantly welled in his heart.

“No one…” You finally muttered, your words soft and meek in reply, “the world is just too loud, lord.”

“Too loud?” he questioned as you buried your face back into his robes, escaping the merciful touch of the Lord in Yellow as you weeped. “What thing do I have to silence to bring you peace?” For you, he would send any animal, person, god to the abyss, to the eternal silence and madness that was where he crept, but yet your fingers clenched tighter on his cloak and he knew all at once something that made his soul ache and burn.

This was not something he could squash with the weight of madness. He could not even grasp it in his feeble hands. “Talk to me, dear mouse. What is it that makes you cry so?” As you began to talk about the sound of the wind in the trees, the texture of food you dislike, the feeling of cuts and bruises on your skin that would not fade; it all overwhelmed you so, caused for your mind to whirl and your senses to increase.

“Stay for as long as you need, mouse.”

Wrapping the edges of his coat around your shoulders, he did not let you leave until your heaves softened and your eyes dried, you were his most devoted follower after all.

#identity v #idv #x reader #identity v x reader #idv x reader #gender neutral reader #idv hastur #idv hastur x reader #identity v hastur #idv feaster x reader #idv feaster #idv fanfiction

[aceymazy]

Could you write an Orpheus x reader fic where the two of them are unknowingly pinning over each other? Have a wonderful day/night too!

OMG. yes. tysm.

[----------]

+ Halloween special?? (it dosent have any halloween things. i actually planned to post this yesterday)

Pairing: Orpheus (IDV) x GN! Reader

Warnings: None really, just some oblivious mess of a fic lol. And some grammar mistakes ofc

Word count: Idk man i aint counting this shit... (i only know this is probably my longest work yet...)

[----------]

You arrived at the manor a few weeks prior, and so far, it's been nice. Most of the other survivors were nice, teamwork for matches were there, (even if sometimes it didnt really work out and you and the 3 others had a shameful lose.) it felt better than your old life to be precise.

But there was this one survivor that had peaked your interest. That survivor being none other than Orpheus himself. He was a quiet individual, sure, but whenever he spoke his voice felt like silk, something you could listen to for hours and hours without a stop.

You wanted to get closer to him, to get to know him better. But you didnt want to come off as rude or obnoxious. So you did what any other normal person would do who's afraid of making the first move. You wrote a letter.

The handwriting was 'neat' in youre opinion, the contents... probably okay. You were just waiting for his response.

You werent sure that if he took you up on the offer to be friends, or he would just nit-pick your wording and grammar, but your heart told you it's worth a shot.

And indeed was it worth it.

At first it was obvious he was hesitant to meet, but after a few meetings/'hang outs' as you called it, he realized you werent so bad after all.

You two quickly clicked. You two had similar interests, similar type of 'humor', and it just felt so perfect for you.

And you hoped it would be the same feeling for him too.

"[Y/N]?"

You're head perked up as you heard his beautiful voice. Your name rolling perfectly off his tounge.

"Yes, Orpheus?"

You question.

God, how much he loved your voice.

At first he wasn't that much of a fan of you, but now, he would do anything to just merely be in your presence.

"I have a question for you."

You raise an eyebrow at that. What does he have to know?

"Hit me."

You respond

"What is youre favourite color?"

"Uh... [Favourite color]. Why?"

"Oh nothing. I was just curious."

He responds.

In reality, he just wants to learn about you. Anything in general.

Whatever you say he memorizes. Or writes it down somewhere. It may sound stalker-ish but when you're stuck in a manor where you're being hunted down by monsters and where you might go nuts, it dosen't really matter.

And most of the days just went like this. Orpheus or you popping up in eachothers spaces to ask questions about eachother, or just talk.

The other survivors were practically begging you to get together with Orpheus, appearently you and him are 'All over eachother', which is not true!

You two only hang out. And talk all the time. And team up during matches. And save eachother without a second thought even if it meant one of you'd lose the match. And share food with eachother-

Okay now thats pretty sus in reality...

And that's when you realized for once. (And finally.)

You like... No. You love Orpheus.

After you realized... you... kind of kept a distance between him and you.

You just didnt know what to do with these new feelings. They are foreign. New. Whatever you want to call it, but its not familiar.

And of course, this action did not go unnoticed by Orpheus, see, he is a really attentive person, he 'knows these stuff', as you told him once

Whenever he called your name, or even tried to get in your personal space, you moved away or just simply ignored him.

Which did not sit right with him at all.

You two got along so well, what happend?

Did he do something wrong?

Did he offend you with something he said?

He knows he can be blunt but did he hurt you??

Needless to say he was confused. Very confused.

So one day, he decided to write a letter.

If he wrote you didnt have a chance to runaway... right?

And the letter was... detailed. Way too detailed.

He wrote about his worries that he offended you, he asked why are you ignoring him and if he did something wrong, and he said he misses you.

When you read the letter that got pushed trough the small space under your door, you didnt know how to take it.

Did this mean he likes you too? Or what does this mean..?

Let's say you wrote a letter back. But you were way bolder.

You poured out your heart into that letter, you told him how much your heart aches whenever you cant see him, but you realized these strange feelings that kept bugging you.

That you love his silky voice, whenever he talks it felt like a lullaby to you that you could just sleep on without a care in the world.

And when HE read the letter he was flabbergasted. No better or worse word to describe it.

After thinking deeply and reading your letter over and over again, he realized it too.

What he felt inside his stomach whenever you two were close wasn't only friendship. It was love.

He finally realized, you did too.

So he wrote a letter back, again.

Confessing that he felt the same, and that you two should meet up already because he misses you.

In the end... You two confessed the same way you two's friendship started to bloom.

#i have no idea how pining works in reality #i also dont know how to tag #idv x reader #idv #idv dating hcs #idv headcanons #hcs #idv scenarios #idv fanfic #idv fanfiction #scenarios #idv orpheus #idv orpheus x reader #idv novelist #fanfiction #eugenestutters

[beesquee]

The snow felt scorching against her skin.

Violetta did not know how long she'd been lying helplessly in the middle of the woods just beyond the courtyard. She did know, however, that the tear tracks from crying earlier had frozen completely against her cheeks. "Crying does not help you any," Maxwell used to tell her whenever she was frustrated with herself. The lecture had quelled her leaking eyes-- and made her a better performer-- but she only grew more frustrated with herself whenever Maxwell said such things.

Despite her bitterness about having been sold off, Violetta believed, at this moment, that Maxwell had been right. Her wet eyes had not saved her from Joker's paranoia-induced wrath, and they could not save her now, stranded without her mechanical limbs to carry herself out.

read the rest here !!

#identity v #violetta identity v #idv #violetta idv #soul weaver identity v #soul weaver idv #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers on ao3 #idv fanfiction #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic #identity v fanfiction #mike morton #murro morton #just cuz theyre mentioned in the fic #not my best work but suitable for a first(ish) post

[strawberry-writings]

Chocolate Fragrance

♡Fandom: Identity V

Pairings: Edgar valden x reader

Warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff

♡ You wandered through the halls of the manor while thinking about creating a piece of art. You liked painting, it was a hobby of yours but you normally went to the huge art room whenever nobody was around because you found it embarrassing for anyone to see your art. But little did you know that the man who was a Painter himself found your pieces beautiful.

You entered the art room and closed the door behind you and started finding a canvas and the colors that you wanted and began painting. A beautiful field of lavenders would be lovely to paint today especially since it was rainy and it felt like it fit the gloomy cloudy sky outside. A few minutes later whoel continuing on your painting you heard the door open and immediately looked to see who it was. You felt embarrassed already. And tried to hide your painting while acting casual.

"Oh hi! What are you doing here, I'm just admiring the artworks here heheh..." you felt like cringing at your words and disappearing from the world right then and there but you were surprised to see the painter Edgar valden. You never really talked to him outside matches but you tried to smile a bit to make it seem like you weren't embarrassed. "Y/N, why are you hiding your painting?" Edgar questioned you with a gloomy and tired expression on his face but his voice remained clear.

Edgar walked to get his art supplies and began sketching his own canvas but he didn't wanna show anyone because it was secret. But you didn't know what it was, of course he stood by his word and didn't wanna show it to anyone but he admired you so much. He remembered the fragrance that he smelt whenever he was around you in matches. He smelt a delicious chocolate fragrance. He thought that you were a beautiful flower that just bloomed. You could say that he had a crush on you.

The brunette haired young man looked at you and said "You shouldn't be embarrassed to show your art sometimes you know, even if the person or people doesn't like it you could continue creating art by improving." He said in a calm yet soft voice. His eyes shined like the stars and you didn't feel embarrassed anymore. You stopped hiding it and showed it to him. "What do you think?" the young h/c adult, asked in a quiet and sweet voice.

He was shocked he loved it at first sight, the lavender field looked magnificent he couldn't describe it all he could say was "That's l-lovely.." in a shy voice, he felt embarrassed and he couldn't couldn't the right words out of his mouth just a little 'that's lovely?' he wanted to describe it and compliment as much as he could. Edgar got some more words out of his mouth and he managed to say "how beautiful...i love it..." you were extremely surprised to see Edgar act like this.

He appeared to be prideful and proud of himself but he looked Iike he absolutely adored it more than his own paintings. The amount of artistic beauty your painting had was infinite. You smiled happily and thanked him and told him that his artworks were also beautiful and wonderful to look at. You admitted that they actually made you want to continue painting as a hobby and that it touched your heart because they expressed different emotions.

Edgar felt happy that his pieces touched someone's heart. He felt proud and finally that someone respected art. It just made him fall inlove with you more. He wanted to finish this piece so he could give it to you. He decided to paint a rose. Because they were nearly as beautiful as you but you were more than beautiful. You both had some small talk and the conversation just got deeper and you two really bonded and got to know each other. Without knowing it 3 hours had passed with painting and talking for hours.

You and Edgar became tired and decided to go for a walk together to the garden. But Edgar wanted to tell you that he had a crush on you. But he wanted to wait for the right time. It wouldn't make sense for him to confess right after speaking to you for a while. But he didn't care at all, he actually finished the painting while having a conversation with you so he decided to give it to you later on in the day he'll make a note asking you to come outside during midnight.

You sat beside Edgar on the bench not knowing he had a crush on you, you asked him if he had any siblings and he revealed that the had a younger sister named Ella. You didn't have any siblings as you were an only child but you do have a house pet. Edgar was a bit fond of animals and said that he liked cats. You never really knew that because he barely revealed anything about himself but maybe he was comfortable with you?

A few hours passed and it was nearly nighttime so you had to go to sleep in order to sleep longer. You had fun speaking with Edgar. You went to your room and wore your pajamas, you went to bed and like some more hours later you woke up to a noise outside. You rubbed your eyes and got up and checked your surroundings and saw a note lying on the ground. You decided to read it and it said "Dear Y/N will you meet me at the garden at 12'o clock at midnight? From anonymous."

You just decided to go because it was probably about something important but why at the garden? Maybe it was more private you walked over to the garden while a bit sleepy. You saw a familiar figure with long brunette hair. It was Edgar you felt excited to see him and ran up to him and asked if he sent you the letter. He nodded and something was behind him. It was like a rectangle, he took a deep breath and said.

"Y/N, I admire you and I think you're beautiful and I love your personality and artworks as well. I always feel happy when I'm around you and I can't believe that I'm saying this but I think I have a crush on you." you were surprised, because Edgar never seemed to like anyone at the manor. You had to admit that you liked him as well, and felt something real towards him.

With a red blush on your face you said that you also liked him as well, he grabbed the rectangle thingy and gave it to you. He told you to look and it was the rose painting. You weren't expecting that at all and you were super happy and hugged him. He hugged you back and chuckled a bit, he kissed your forehead and said that you to go to sleep and that you could be together in the morning in a soft and kind voice. ♡

A/N: Thank you for reading this fanfiction! ♡♡ also I forgot about Tumblr and my requests are open!

#Edgar valden #Identity v #Idv #Edgar valden x reader #Idv x reader #Identity v x reader #Idv fanfiction #Painter idv #Identity 5 #Id5

[viyln]

Forget-Me-Not

Emma Woods [ Gardener ]

I love to imagine Emma gives her beloved flowers.

1.2k words

content : self-insert, gender neutral, fluff, flowers with Emma

not proofread !!

ㅤㅤIt has been over a year ever since you set foot inside the gates of Oletus manor.

ㅤㅤThat was the last time you had ever tasted delightful freedom before being forcefully thrown into a metal cage, never to be let out until the Baron behind this twisted “game” declares it over.

ㅤㅤLike the others, you were also lured in with an epistle, claiming a reward beyond any grandiose desire — in return for being the victor in the carnival game the Baron hosted. You were too naïve to notice. Too ingenuous to discern that the letter was riddled with lies, that this "reward" was too good to be true. You seethed, although it was briefly cut short.

ㅤㅤThe rage you now formerly felt was converted into a desperate will to survive. Dread clouded you perpetually as you observed the amount of people decreasing from the day before. All who were announced as deceased after a game was finished. You grew paranoid each passing match, fearing those disfigured monsters who ruthlessly executed the participants would also get you one day.

ㅤㅤBut you knew you mustn't let terror and despair engulf you. No, you had to stay determined.

ㅤㅤ.. Though, sometimes you can’t help but be vulnerable at times.

ㅤㅤFor the sixth time this week, you sauntered in the manor garden. The matches noticeably increased in frequency, and so did the length of your visits. You found yourself nothing but enervated. In an effort to save your already waning mental well being, you sought solace in the sanguine atmosphere of the garden.

ㅤㅤA familiar, saccharine voice called out your name upon entering. At once, you knew who it belonged to — Emma Woods. The gardener who would routinely be at the indoor garden, tending to numerous kinds of botany. Her daily occurrence made her often your source of company. She was always there, whether it was through subtle gestures or a full-fledged conversation. You let the sides of your lips curl upwards into an affable smile, to which she reciprocated pleasantly.

ㅤㅤDespite being confined in such a miserable estate, you recognize you are not the only one. Thus, meaningful connections were built over the course of time. One of those connections being the brunette. She was one of the few who greeted you with a sincere welcome upon your arrival. The majority greeted you too, albeit with a cautious — and sometimes hostile — undertone.

ㅤㅤYou couldn't blame them. Shortly after, you found out almost everyone in the manor was quite odd and threatening. It felt as though you could never let your guard down with any of them around. As you barely knew anyone in the manor aside from the girl, you made the gardener one of your few well-trusted companions. Time spent with the brunette made being stuck in the manor less agonizing.

ㅤㅤ“You’re just in time. Come, I have something for you!” Emma grasped your hand and led you to a secluded area in the garden. You came to look at what she had for you — spotting elegant azure blue flowers blooming in the area. Curious, you took a step forward to observe the flora further.

ㅤㅤ"Do you like it?" She queried, following suit to stand next to you. The plant bloomed delicate cerulean petals. In its center lay bewitching golden eyes, accompanied with white appendages surrounding the fornice. A carmine hue tinted your cheeks as you thanked her for the lovely gift. You see the delightful expression she held seemed to become even brighter, if that was even possible.

ㅤㅤ"These are called Scorpion Grasses, also known as Forget-Me-Nots. It’s a low maintenance plant that grows well in shady spots the indoor garden provides." She maundered, “Scorpion grass usually takes two or three months to fully mature, I'm glad it bloomed sooner than I thought."

ㅤㅤ"I like to think that these flowers represent the symbol of our companionship. As well as my offering to commemorate our time together!” The brunette clasped her hands with a prideful beam.

ㅤㅤTo say you were flattered was an understatement. You were left agape and beyond words. The already cerise flush grew deeper; at this point, your very face could put the Weeping Clown's maroon locks to shame.

ㅤㅤIt was adorable seeing how enthusiastic the gardener was while presenting such a thoughtful gesture. You were overjoyed, yet a slight sense of guilt and remorse lingered upon realizing you possessed nothing to offer in return. You hung your head low, desperately and urgently scouring for words to utter from your lexicon.

ㅤㅤ“You don’t have to say anything. I can see it written all over you.”

ㅤㅤShe held your hand once more with tender grace and steered it to a dangerous proximity near her cheek. Blush sat prominently on the bold expression she carried. An expression that had you reeling. Your hand remained in hers, fondling her cheek meekly.

ㅤㅤTime seemed to halt, its motionless hands entrapping the beautiful scenery shared by you and your companion. You and she both felt at ease. Troubles and woe ceased, and instead, a wave of tranquility and bliss seeped through your figure. For the first time in a while, you finally let your guard down.

ㅤㅤIt was almost unbelievable. To think a saint like Emma was included as a participant in this grotesque, macabre game. You never would have guessed. But you know everyone dwelling in this manor has ulterior motives, good or bad. You can’t trust someone fully. You know better than to be fooled. Is what you always say to yourself.

ㅤㅤSo why is it that you feel so fuzzy? So.. weak and exposed? You didn’t know. But you trusted her, so much, you placed your life at stake in her hands. And you liked it. You let yourself in her care countless times. This was another one of those times, however, it felt different.

ㅤㅤToo caught up in a chain of thought, you fail to notice the gardener slowly leaning and hovering on your left cheek. The girl showed no hesitation before bestowing a quick peck. It took a moment to process everything. Your body stiffened, and your visage contorted into one of shock.

ㅤㅤShe let go of your hand and began gathering her hand tools. As if nothing had happened. You gaze upon her with astonishment. How? Just how? You bore your eyes onto her, still struggling to find the correct words to speak. By the time you tried to say something, she was already finished.

ㅤㅤ"I do apologize, but I have to go now. I'll see you again tomorrow!" Emma flashed a sincere grin. She waved as she walked through the exit door, tools in hand. Just like that, the brunette vanished from the garden before you could even say a word.

ㅤㅤNext morning, you awoke with cheerful behavior. Despite having a match scheduled that day, you were incapable of wiping the uncharacteristically giddy grin that frivolously laid on your appearance. The recollection of yesterday lingered in your consciousness, prompting you the desire to visit the gardener right away. In an excited manner, you took hold of the knob and swung the door open.

ㅤㅤYour vision was met with gorgeous azure flowers — elegantly arranged and fastened together with a sage green tie. It sat patiently in front of the entrance to your quarters, beckoning you to accept.

#emma woods #emma woods idv #identity v #idv #idv x reader #idv fanfic #emma x reader #emma woods x reader #idv fanfiction #vei's works ⌑

[overmore]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Underage Relationships: Aesop Carl | Embalmer/Joseph Desaulnier | Photographer Characters: Aesop Carl | Embalmer, Joseph Desaulnier | Photographer Additional Tags: alternative universe, Aesop Carl | Embalmer's Costume: "Blindspot", Joseph Desaulnier | Photographer's Costume: Hangover, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content Series: Part 4 of Drunk man and a school boy Summary:

Things weren't as bad today as they normally would be, Aesop thought. No one tried to take his things, no one pushed him around or tried to hit him. He thought that maybe, they got bored of him. Teachers said that he'd be left alone if he just didn't react to them, though until now that had never worked. Maybe it finally reached the limit and they just didn't want to bother with someone who didn't care?

He wished this was the case, but the real reason was because it was Valentine's Day. Everyone was just busy with their friends, making cards and gifting chocolate to each other. Everyone seemed happy and uninterested in being mean to Aesop.

To some degree, at least.

#joscarl #hagoverspot #idv photographer #idv embalmer #idv fanfic #idv fanfiction #identity v #idv

[lostarchivesoforpheus]

`•- Jealous Norton Headcanons

norton campbell (survivor) x gn reader

prompt: jealousy

warnings: jealousy (yeah no shit), physical touch

a/n: i have a hard time writing jealous characters but im gonna try my best today raaah hopefully i do alright also this is valentines event day 4 wahoo alright cool let's get on with it already

ever since the two of you got in a relationship with each other, norton couldn't help but feel protective over you.

he doesn't mean it in a bad way, of course! it's just that he's used to having things he cares about being snatched away, and he doesn't want to lose you as well. he cares about you more than anything else in the world, after all.

don't worry, though, he's not protective to the point where he's constantly hovering around you, obviously. he understands that you want to hang out with your friends sometimes, and he trusts that your friends wouldn't do anything malicious towards you. he doesn't let it get to him.

what does get to him, though, is whenever someone seems to start getting a bit too comfortable whenever you two hang out. you brush it off at first, obviously, since pretty much everyone at the manor knew about your relationship with norton. surely, they doesn't mean for their actions to come off like that, do they?

but norton isn't convinced. something about the whole situation just feels... off to him. he tries not to ovethink it, but he just can't help himself. something about it just seemed to make him feel strange and sour inside. he knows that they likely doesn't mean any harm, but...

he's left feeling bitter and uneasy as he keeps thinking about it. he doesn't quite seem to realize the way he subconsciously starts appearing by your side more and more, keeping a watchful eye on anyone else around. it's just his protective instincts. he doesn't mean to suddenly start sticking to your presence, it just... happens.

norton doesn't really seem to realize that he's jealous. he just wants to keep you safe and remind anyone else who dares to make a move that your his, and you don't plan on leaving him anytime soon.

if the situation calls for it, he pulls you closer to him almost subconsciously. he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you tightly next to him, shooting a nasty glare at whoever was getting a bit too close for comfort. he'll even go so far as to grunt at them, angrily telling them to back off, though he does his best to keep his emotions under control.

if you try to tease him about this later that night, he just grumbles and denies everything you say with the tiniest tint of blush on his cheeks. him? jealous? no, he'd never get jealous... where'd you get that idea from?

a/n: me when i. nortbn cmpball

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

#`•- main hall in the archives: headcanons #`•- events in the archives: the philomena's propellente's countdown to valentines day #philomena's files #norton campbell x reader #identity v x reader #idv x reader #fanfic #fanfic author #fanfiction #fanfiction author #x reader #norton campbell #identity v prospector #idv prospector #identity v #idv

[fishermanshook]

F!CK BOYS GONE SOFT

( mercenary , batter & prospector ) + gn!reader

# MINOR WRITING SMUT , #ihatewritingdialouge , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

It was a mutual agreement between the both of you that you were fucking for the pure reason of letting off steam after being stuck in this hell hole. 

No feelings were supposed to be caught. No hearts were meant to be thawed. And yet, they find themselves yearning for your touch long after your last session.

꒰wc꒱ 1.7k ( longest fic so far !! )

✦— THE MERCENARY

If being between your legs was where he wished to be, then who were you to deny him access to the most private part of your body? Where Naib works his magic and milks you of your essence while paying you back in waves of pleasure.

The Mercenary looks so lost in his work that you think he doesn’t notice the change in pitch. That you’ve adjusted your grip on his hair to a softer, gentler hold. Your moans are light, airy, and not at all the ones that left your throat hoarse and raspy the night before. No, that can’t be right. And it doesn’t take him long before he finds the spot that pushes you over. The spot that has your back arching off the mattress. The spot that has you screaming his name like it’s going out of style.

And god does pleasure look good on you, as Naib refuses to remove his eyes from you as he watches the aftermath of you coming undone in front of him. Such a passionate and intimate thing for his eyes and his eyes only as your essence coats his hands and tongue. To think he’d pull his head away after you came is just stupid. Have you not learned from previous sessions? You coming only gives him more reason to drop down there and give you more, but Naib holds himself back.

The next few moments are a blur as you try to calm down after your orgasm, but it seems Naib won’t let you. The sound of something being unzipped and his pants hitting the floor pulls you from your recovery. He’s prepped you enough, hasn’t he?

“It’ll hurt a little, but only for a second.” The Mercenary whispers in your ear as a warning to brace for what’s about to come. It makes him wonder, and only for a split second, if you ever realized how much he loves you. The amount of thought and care that goes into every move he makes towards you. Maybe you’re just dense, or maybe it’s not like that. He won’t know until he tells you. Or, until you tell him.

Your hands rush to clamp themselves over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the moans flooding from it. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this (and certainly not the last…), but it’s always a tight fit. A tight fit that neither of you can get enough of. Your hands don’t last though, as the Mercenary is quick to rip your hands away from your mouth. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You don’t need him to say anything else.

It’s not long before you feel the familiar warmth strengthen between your legs. By now, Naib’s memorized your every tell that you’re going to come. By the way your legs tighten around his waist and the way your hands reach to clasp his biceps to try and hold on. It’s the way you attempt to not pass out when you feel everything just snap.

“God, I love you so much,” Naib admits before even realizing what he just said. You’ve never seen the man freeze so fast, or go so red. Before his hands cover his mouth you pin his wrists down to the bed.

“Wait—! H-hold on,” you say, still recovering from your orgasm that happened just seconds ago. “What did you say?”

The Mercenary stares at you before opening his mouth to say: “I didn’t say anything.” He’s trying to play it with a convincing tone in his voice, but it’s hard to believe when he practically shouts it.

“No, Naib,” you huff out “Are you playing me?” You question. Your face molds into worry and concern. Instead, he avoids your gaze. There’s nothing else for him to do in this situation is there.

“Fine. If you won’t say it, then I will.” You state before grabbing Naibs face and pressing it into yours. The Mercenary tries (and he really does) to do anything but melt into your touch. In the end, it proves to be no use. Pulling away, you say: “Naib, there is no one else I love more than you.”

“Thanks for confirming what I already know, babe.”

✦— THE BATTER

Not every affair starts with a heated make-out session, but every heated make-out session ends with the two of you having sex. With your lips entwined as your fingers roam through his hair, the two of you make a mad dash to whoever’s room is closer as playful giggles slip out along the way.

It started as just another way to let yourself go and cut loose a little after another night of terror from Ganji. How could you not tell that the Batter saw you as more than just some fuck buddy? That his eyes weren’t only filled with lust, but love for you and you entirely?

Maybe this can be his way of showing you, whether you get it or not. Whether you understand the soft kisses he lays on your chest. Whether you understand the praises that fall from his lips. Whether you understand it's taken him too long to finally muster up the courage to confess to you.

You’ve stripped each other of your clothes leaving both of you bare naked. The only thing covering you are the multiple hickeys decorating your chest as well as between your legs. The pleasure overrides any pain felt from when he initially pushed his way inside of you. Before you know it, you're babbling all over his cock while he presses gentle kisses all over your face. You look so cute like this—all flushed out and pink.

Ganji's smart, but overlooks your cock drunkenness and traces his finger along your jaw and other places. Eventually, his finger meets your back and traces along your spine. His finger does weird swoops along your backside. It's all just a simple way of telling you 'I love you.' without having to utter a word.

Maybe it's the way you moan out his name as your hips move up and down on his cock. Or maybe it's the look in your eyes when he meets them. The Batter's not sure where the courage comes from, but all he knows is that he can't stand another moment of you not being his.

"[name] I- fuck, I love you." He barely manages to grunt out, snapping you from your thoughts to look at him with wide eyes.

"What-?"

It's then he thinks he fucked up. That he has demolished all of the hard work he put into this relationship. This is it. This is the end of your bond.

"No, shit I'm sorry just forget what I said," Ganji mutters out, immediately flipping you over so that your lying down on your back. "I'll make you come real hard if you just forget everything I just said, 'k?" Ganji says with caution in his voice. Maybe you're not the only one oblivious in this relationship of yours.

"Really? You love me?"

Ganji tears his eyes away from wherever he is looking at looks right at you. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If not for you I don't think I'd ever get the chance to say this," you chimed, pulling him in for a long and passionate kiss first. "Ganji, I love you more than the stars themselves."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR 

The bed will break long after the Prospector, Norton Campbell, has had his way with you. He won’t stop until his sheets are soaked in your combined essences until your scent has been embedded into his mattress, and until he can get the words out to tell you how he feels.

For too long has Norton been labeled as your “fuck buddy” and he wants out of it. Every round feels like another chance to prove he’s perfect for you. How many people know your favorite book? Your favorite place to relax? Your favorite position? The sensitive spots on your body? Who else knows exactly where to touch and what to say? All he needs you to answer is if you like him or not.

“Shit—always feel so good,” Norton manages to grunt out after thrusting into you. He knows he’s found your sweet spot (again…) when he pulls a loud moan from your sweet lips. So attentive to your wants and needs that he can’t help but hit the spot again and again, listening as your moans grow louder with each thrust.

The Prospector mutters something under your breath he thinks went by unnoticed. Pulling you from your aroused state to ask him what’s wrong. All he can do is sigh and shake his head as his arms wrap around you. A bit tighter than usual, but not uncomfortable.

“Norton—! What’s the matter?” You manage to huff out. It’s obvious something is plaguing his mind, but the Prospector is as stubborn as ever and refuses to tell you. “Fine then,” you tell him “I guess I just won’t let you come.”

Now that gets his attention, and he instantly slows his pace. You allow him to keep going, but only if he starts talking.

“I’m too scared to say it,” Norton states.

“Why?” You ask.

Norton looks down at where you're still connected. It’s only then you notice he’s stopped. “Because I don’t want it to ruin whatever we’ve got going on. I don’t want to lose everything.” He admits through gritted teeth.

“Do you think it’s that bad that you’d lose everything?” You ask, concern now seeping into your voice.

All he does is sigh before bringing his face closer to yours. “God, is it seriously not obvious enough? Shit, [name] I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and I didn’t want to say anything in fear of ruining—“ he gestures using his hands to the both of you. “this. A-and I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me after this but you asked so—“

He doesn’t get to finish as you cover his lips with yours. “Silly prospector, I love you more than you could imagine.” You confess before feeling Norton melt into your kiss once more.

note: hiii fish nation…sorry about the random hiatus, it will probably happen again 😆😆😆. thank you all so much for 100+ followers! it means the absolute most to me knowing there are actually people who enjoy reading what I have to write. I wouldn’t be here without you, thank you for everything so far. 🩷🩷🩷. this is so ass oh my gosh

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

#⋆౨🎞️ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ PLAYBOY NOW PRESENTS... #smut fic #minor writing smut #fanfiction #identity v #identityv #idv #idv x reader #identity v x reader #the prospector idv #the prospector #the mercenary idv #the merc #the mercenary x reader #idv smut #the batter #ganji gupta #ganji gupta x reader #ganji smut #idv ganji #identity v ganji #naib smut #naib x reader #naib subedar idv #norton campbell x reader #idv norton #norton campbell

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Mating

Dragon Hunter!Composer x Dragoon!reader

Rated M | Warning: you both have dragon blood you can guess how that goes

The dragon blood within him sings when around you. At first, it sang the song of adversity. The first time you met him it was when he was hunting beasts. You were hired to save a child, nothing more nor were you aiming to kill the dragon within the area.

But he complicated the situation by making his battle some grand spectacle, the audience being you and the dragon blood-tainted child. The dragon only took what was offered as a payment for protecting the village, the child was theirs to raise as kin. Its blood binds it to the child and the child to it.

“Begone sellsword! You will only get in the way.” The Dragon Hunter is known for his might and bloodthirsty nature.

“You will stand down.” You are not a slave to your blood nor are you its master, you are equal to it. Human and dragon coexisting within body and soul, blood singing with power. “This dragon is innocent. Trickery has been done by mortal words.”

“You lie.” Not that he cared. The dragon is his prey and he will smite it! “Stay aside or fall with the beast!”

“So be it.” You pull the lance from behind your back and go into a battle stance. “Take your child and flee as far as you can.” Ordering the wounded dragon, the child clinging to its adopted parent. “Go no!” As you block the rush attack from the Dragon Hunter.

Each strike is blocked, and each attempt to go after the original prey is met with your lance snatching and throwing him into the ground.

“Fine, then I shall deal with you first!”

As a Dragoon, your dragon blood roars to life, the aura imbued into the lance and your armor. Those who have fallen crafted into the bone armor and redden by their rage. When the Dragon Hunter stabs his blade into your shoulder, you roar as you bring him into the air.

He is no match for a Dragoon in the air, this he learns when has he to attempt to ground you.

The fight is spectacular, the Dragon Hunter has never felt this rush, this thrill before! To meet one who battles like a dragon, to witness the might one can tap into when it draws upon the blood of such magnificent beasts!

“Marry me.”

You were on the ground holding yourself up by your lance and a knee on the ground. The veteran has met your match and now he towers above you equally a mess from the fight.

“Be mine and I will not hunt the dragon and its kin.” It is rather cruel to have you choose to forfeit your life for the lives of others—

“Then I shall wed you.” Standing up to keep your pride. You do not hesitate to save anyone at any cost.

Frederick has never heard of a Dragoon much less seen one, nor has anyone captured his attention the way you have. Your armor is different, with spikes and scales like a dragon. When he touched it he felt the wrath of its spirit, the mighty fury of a dragon in rage. The lance you call Gae Bolg is crafted to represent a dragon in flight and strike like the dive of one. Had the Dragon Hunter been a wizard or human, you surely would have killed him.

“This is unnecessary.”

“It is quite necessary!” He finally can see you and you can see him without the armor. “Though I intend to marry you, we should probably get to know each other.”

“Was the trip here not enough time to know my body well enough for you, Frederick the Dragon Hunter.” You say with no emotion.

The man nearly chokes on his wine. The dining table is decorated with all types of food, drinks, and treats. His wealth befits a dragon, greedily hoarding wealth but you must admit his kingdom seems prosperous despite his greed.

“Frederick, my dear. We do not need titles when alone.”

“We do. It keeps us from mating once again.” You are very bluntly stating the events as it is true. After the battle, a new fight started. Dragon mating can be… Rather frightening to see for humans, it is about domination, proof of worthiness, and in the end compatibility. As human dragon hybrids, this follows.

Several days of fighting before the actual mating happened. The wedding will only be symbolic for humans, and it seems the Dragon Hunter wants to fully entertain courting you in a human fashion.

You, being raised more as a dragon than a human, do not see the point given you marked him as your mate.

“Humor me. I think you will enjoy the human mating ritual.” Drinking his goblet of wine while you take a seat beside him, your hands on the table. He hums pleased but then stops drinking when you do not grab the utensils on the table. “Is something wrong?”

“I do not know how to use these.” Because you only eat food with your hands given you are wandering time.

There is a silence before he starts snickering.

“Careful Frederick, I will not be mocked.” You grab the fork awkwardly before he reaches over and gently corrects your hand and finger placement. “... Thank you.” Quietly saying those words. He does not mock you when you try using the fork by aggressively stabbing your plate. It is strange and you prefer using your hands, easier to pick up things.

After dinner, Frederick takes you to the armory. Here is displayed all of the various armors throughout the ages. His victories and paintings depicting them.

“Seems you truly are a worthy mate,” Examining one of his oldest armor, “A safe home for our children, you have means of protecting them, and a legacy for them to uphold.”

“Children, dragons move fast.”

“Dragons have no true concept of time. For humans, it will appear slow but for us, it will be a blink of an eye. We are eternal. Nothing has to be immediate.” True. Your father took many human centuries before deciding to mate and have a child. When time and death have no meeting, waiting an eternity is nothing.

“Would it be a topic to come again?”

“If you so wish.”

Frederick grew up with human parents, the church called upon him to consume dragon blood, and the people who needed a savior. You grew up with your father who consumed your mother so their souls are joined as one, you became a dragoon as traditions of old call upon all hybrid children of dragons, and you wander to see the world.

Two very different people bound by the instincts of the dragons.

There are a lot of things you learned from each other. A give and take, the wedding was strange and very elaborate. It pleases your mate so you go along with it. Your father had given the Dragon Hunter his blessings and attended the wedding. The great Siegfried, the first and last Dragon Slayer of his kind. You never knew the human remembered as a hero once more, last your father recalls the human deemed him a monster. He was a human who became a dragon to save his home.

Interesting how times have changed.

The celebration after was much louder and Father took a human form for the occasion. 

Dancing, eating, drinking, the weird sentimental speeches. More drinking and dancing. The celebration lasted until the evening when it was announced the newlyweds were leaving. The unspoken time for mating.

“Now they all know we are having sex.” Humans are strange.

“It is not exactly a secret when we slip away to our chambers what is going to happen.”

“Still, humans love to claim they are so reserved yet are easily enthralled by desires. Next, they are going to ask to witness our mating to ensure we have consummated our marriage.” You are naked now and Frederick barely has his ceremonial armor off. “Get on the bed.”

“I am still— Oh.” Pinned down on the bed with you on top of him straddling them without shame as you are naked for only him to see. The scales of your dragon heritage shine in the light of the candles in the room. His eyes dare not wander as your gaze locks his with yours.

“You can still perform with the armor on. In fact, you may need the extra protection for our mating.”

That certainly makes his dragon stir, “I can handle you.”

“Show me, dragon hunter.” Grinning at him.

#idv #reader insert #fanfiction #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #identity v composer #composer x reader #composer x you #frederick kreiburg x you #frederick kreiburg x reader #frederick kreiburg

[acosmicblizzard]

Hello there! Such a cute blog the colours and aesthetic reminds me of cheesecake and sweet pastries ❤️❤️❤️

May I request something with idv? Can I request a headcanon about a baker female survivor, who loves to bake for both the survivors and even the hunters. She even goes to the hunters side to give them their favourite pastries. She’s not a talker but she likes to show how she’s feeling through actions. She’s very motherly to both the survivors and hunters and even during matches she leaves muffins behind her whenever the hunter is chasing her (a sneaky way of distracting the hunter while the others decode and she gets away) also her pastries serve as an energy boost and healing to the survivors during matches.

Hello! Thank you so much for the request! It took me awhile due to dealing with some writers block but I'm finally feeling well enough to write!

Various survivors & hunters with a Female Baker Survivor Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of food

Story type: Fluff, Au, can be considered platonic or romantic depending on the characters being interacted with.

Pairings/Characters: Various

The manor getting new survivors is nothing new, so when another red wax sealed letter was sent out people on both sides were expecting either a new ally, or simply another prey. Once you arrived some rushed to greet you, some stayed to the side and watched, some never interacted with at all, some were weary, there were a lot of different reactions due to the many different personalities of the residents of the manor.

Whenever the first few matches started, it took awhile for some survivors to get use to you handing out treats. Confused as to why you baked treats for a murder game only to come to realize that firstly, they tasted good, and the benefits they gave. It took some survivors like Naib, Aesop, Kreacher, and some others a longer time to actually take the treats though given their personalities and various other issues. Eventually though, they'll all get use to your helping and kind presence in matches.

When this kindness started extending to the hunters, many of them were suspicious. However some of them like robbie accepted the treats with glee, which gradually had some of the hunters start warming up to you. Even if your treats can be a bit annoying if you give them to another survivor mid kite or how distracting they can get when left on the ground while they're chasing you, it's hard to deny that you're handing them out of the kindness of your heart and generally just want the best for others.

Overtime, the younger end of survivors and hunters especially the ones who are children, teenagers, or just barely young adults often stay by your side. Finding your presence very comfy and welcoming among all the different people in the manor. Not only can you make some hella good treats, you're also a very comforting and caring person that they can go to for comfort.

Time will continue to go on in these endless games, but your kindness and sweet treats will remain a staple bright light amidst all the chaos and fighting.

#identity v #idv #identity v headcanons #idv headcanons #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic #idv x reader #identity v x reader #platonic identity v #platonic idv #fanfiction

[akuma-tenshi]

writing a cute little college au halloween fic and this is basically a summary of the whole thing

#yes it's for another rarepair what about it #rambling #idv #identity v #victor grantz #idv postman #emil mesmer #idv emil #idv patient #idv luminary #luca balsa #idv prisoner #idv paranormal detective #there's more dw #halloween #fanfiction

[olliesneweyes]

Arcing sparks [OUTDATED! I've already rewritten it]

(Luca and Alva reunite in Oletus Manor. It goes... Worryingly.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The moments that lead to Alva's death were caused by a catastrophic misunderstanding.

Luca found his father's manuscripts the day before. Appalled by the thought Alva was stealing from him, he'd try to work on the invention that he and Alva shared several times without Alva's knowledge, to spite him.

And spite him it did. The two had an argument about it one day. Alva apparently had no idea what Luca meant by "robbing" his father's research, or "blocking" Luca from completing it. Luca simply left to do things away from him.

It was only that night, when Luca was caught working on the machine alone, that Alva knew what it was like to feel robbed. He yelled in anger that Luca was the one stealing, and he charged towards Luca determined to find out what the hell he thought he was doing.

Luca was very startled by this. Panicking, he hit Alva with the parts he was working on in a panic, only realising far too late that those parts were highly electrical. Alva was dead on contact. Luca was somehow spared by the deadliness of the current, only to be arrested the next morning.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

In truth, neither were attempting to steal anything at all. The revived Alva, after many nights spent contemplating the moments leading to his demise, began to wonder if that was the conclusion he should come to.

Luca thought much differently, but not in the way you might imagine.

Prison had taken a harsh toll on Luca's sanity while he was there. Hated by everyone less fortunate than him, and taunted by those who knew what he did, his memories of the events began to twist and warp.

A cacophony of head injuries and the other prisoners' harsh cries of "murderer!" started to make his judgement slip as his memory got more disjointed and fuzzy around the edges. If everyone said he was a murderer, then he had to be one. Simple as that.

Despite how simple it seemed, it was nowhere close to truth. In a mind drenched with guilt, a desperate accident turned into an attack in the heat of the moment. (Luca couldn't have been careless enough with his delicate machinery to hit someone with hundreds of volts on accident, right?)

A misunderstanding between potentially stolen ideas turned into uncertainty if those manuscripts were even his father's at all. (Why would Alva be so confused about what he meant if they were?)

A strong bond between geniuses that turned sour at the last moment turned into the smartest man in the world and his forgetful, impulsive, stupid apprentice. (After all, he can't have been good at all if he can't even remember what they did together properly. What did he do to deserve such a perfect man to mentor him?)

What once was an unfortunate sequence of events was now all his fault. And the guilt suffocated him.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It was years before he and Alva would meet again, now within the halls of Oletus Manor. Alva could recognise the man in front of him as clear as day. But Luca could not do the same back. He barely even remembered his mentor's face. To him, this man was just the Hermit, as he introduced himself.

Something about the Hermit's words strangely calmed the Prisoner. It was like he recalled it from a distant memory, a life he could never come back to. But he couldn't recognise who it was from. The Hermit only gave a soft smile when Luca brought it up.

After a while, The Hermit was allowed into Luca's room. They were surprised to find the sheer amount of devices and gadgets strewn across wall floor and table. The Hermit offered help with Luca's mechanical problems, (since he clearly had a lot of them) with only one type of meagre compensation. To listen to him talk.

And Luca found it strangely easy to talk to this stranger, who felt soothingly familiar in the way they helped him. Almost like a father. Or a teacher. Or a... Mentor? He wasn't sure. But he kept talking, even if the stranger never said their name.

Alva wanted to know what Luca's side of the story was. That was his main goal, after all. But he didn't need it yet. It was enough to see his former apprentice ramble on about anything he wanted. Just so he could pretend things were still alright, for a while. He found himself smiling, several times. Luca smiled back.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It was in those meetings that Alva began to prod. He would never force Luca to tell him what happened, but he asked. And Luca answered. Vaguely at first, but sometimes it'd spiral into a whole rant.

First the Hermit asked about prison, and Luca blabbered about how much he hated when fellow prisoners would treat him like dirt and kick him and yell at him and hit him and— he stopped as he noticed the Hermit quite clearly boiling over with rage, even as they promised that they were angry at how he was treated, not him. The scars that couldn't have been from normal inventing suddenly started to make more sense.

Another day, the Hermit asked about his life before that, and he rattled on about how his mentor and him had been friends despite Luca's struggles, until an "incident" happened and everything fell apart. The man didn't seem surprised when Luca said how much he thought his mentor hated him, but was quite a bit more surprised when he started explaining how great of a man that mentor was. The Hermit joked about not expecting compliments, only to get "you remind me of him! Just... Less intimidating?" Thrown his way. They'd never thought about how much pressure Luca must have been in underneath them.

The day he tried asking about the Invention was the first time Luca cried in front of him. Luca had frozen up when asked to explain, and the words flooded out like a waterfall as he broke down, saying how he couldn't even remember the what damn thing, or how it worked, or what to do, or anything. The Hermit held him, then. Not close, but enough to comfort. They pretended not to hear Luca's quiet cries for his mentor.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

One night, after preparing for this moment the whole week before, the Hermit came into Luca's room with a single request. "Tell me everything you remember about what happened between you and your mentor when he died, and I'll never ask for anything from you again. I promise."

And Luca stares in disbelief for a while, until he bolsters himself enough to speak. He starts slow, reiterating things he's said before. Invention, Mentor, everything was okay, then a problem arose.

He found manuscripts that he believed belonged to his father. He'd never seen them, so he thought Alva had been hiding them intentionally to steal from them.

[Alva didn't even think of that at the time, though he's wondered about it many times after he died, of course. But Luca should know they belonged to his father. His name was plastered everywhere on them.]

After he found them, he explains there was an argument where he was harsh, too harsh, and ran off to where the invention lay in order to calm down.

[The argument part was correct, but he wasn't harsh. He was just confusing, and didn't explain. The entire last part was wrong, however. He'd done several other things before that.]

He tells about how his mentor had walked in, and in a seething fit of rage for what had happened he'd picked up the tools he was using and— it was an accident. He swears it was an accident.

[Alva had barged in, not walked. And the replay of that fateful moment that's forever stuck on loop in his brain shows Luca startled, not angry. But whether or not it was an accident doesn't matter right now.

Because the man he took under his wing for all these years is crumpled on the floor under the weight of his breathless confessions.]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Luca clings to the man at the first offer, feeling himself shatter into tiny pieces. This man should hate him for all he's done. Do what the others did back then, hurt him, condemn him, kill him too! But the man doesn't. Luca doesn't realise he's not the only one crying as he begs. For forgiveness, for pain, for hatred, for this to stop, for— for Alva.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Luca knows, somewhere, that his mentor is here to hold him. But that somewhere likely isn't part of his conscious mind. But Alva hears his name, over and over again, as Luca collapses into him. He doesn't know if Luca can even recognise his response, but he calls back anyway

"Luca, it's me. I'm here. You're okay. You're okay..."

Even as Luca tries to fight against a sea of emotions, that voice he now recognises makes him fracture more. He doesn't let go, even as he drowns in it. Even when he passes out.

Alva doesn't know what to do. But it'll start with an apology. His own apology, not Luca's broken one. Maybe it'll be like old times. Maybe it'll be better.

They'll be okay. And that's a promise he can keep.

#idv #identity v #alva lorenz #luca balsa #fanfiction #luca x alva shippers dni #they are father and adopted son to me #ollie writes

[m0-rax]

KINKTOBER DAY 6: Tentacles

Pairing: Hastur x GN! Reader

——————————————————

Hastur was always doing this. Mid match you’d be decoding a cipher and then he’d use one of his many tentacles to find you.

Once he found you, he always ensnared you in the tentacles on his body hidden beneath his clothes.

Quick work was always made of your clothes.

The fleshy touch of the massive tentacles he had on him always had you squirming, but he liked it that way.

To see his touch make you moan his name. His large hands would grasp at your waist and he’d fuck you right then and there.

He loved to see you writhe when your holes were filled to the brim by him. His tentacles pulsating in and out of you by the minute.

You could never move during these times, grip on you too tight to do so. Hastur would stare at you with his many eyes as he fucked you.

You always had to hope that you wouldn’t be caught when he decided to do this during matches.

His large fleshy cock would stretch your walls and have you screaming his name and pleasure engulfing your body.

Tears would stream down your cheeks but he wouldn’t listen. Any hole not being used by his cock was filled by his tentacles.

The slimy texture and smoothness of them made you feel so strange yet filled inside. He rubbed your sensitive areas just right.

If his hands weren’t on your hips they roamed your body feeling every part of the skin he’d exposed for his own viewing pleasure.

He’d use every part of your body for his pleasure and his enjoyment. You don’t know how much he enjoyed the view of you restrained by his tentacles.

The way those long, wiggly limbs penetrated you so rhythmically that you could beat a drum to the pace of each thrust.

He always filled you with his own cum and when he was done fucking you during a game, he’d leave you to get yourself put together again.

It would never be the last time though, he’d always come back for another round whether it be the day after or in the very same night.

Ever since he’d found another use for those tentacles of his.

#fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #identity v #kinktober #smut #hastur #idv feaster #feaster #identity 5 #idv hastur #tentacles

[scaraluvrr]

hi scara nation!!

i’m not new to tumblr but new to actually sharing my writing! expect mostly scara focused content, requests are always open unless said otherwise! will make intro post soon!

im 16, dni if that makes u uncomfortable.

i do write smut!

yandere req are okay, im not comfortable with incest/dub-con

fandoms i take requests for:

•Genshin Impact

•Identity V

•The Walking Dead

•Stardew Valley

all my work is mostly self indulgent,,, reader will have gender neutral pronouns but afab genitals, i’m not too confident in my abilities to write amab BUT i will try!

#scara smut #balladeer x reader #scaramouche comfort #scaramouche smut #yandere scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #identity v #idv fanfic #idv smut #twd negan #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead negan