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meowordeath · 2 months

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Howdy! Is it alright if I ask for you to make a continuation of the “Characters reacting to reader’s clothing ripping”? And possibly with Edgar Valden, Mike Morton and whatever others you’d like?

Identity V characters reacting to their s/o clothes getting ripped! part 2 :3

w/ Edgar Valden & Mike Morton !

A/N : I really hope I didn’t write them too ooc, also sorry this took forever.

content warnings - sfw, mentions of blood, Bane, Violetta, fluff

Edgar Valden

You had been kiting for most of the match trying your best to keep the hunter, who is bane, away from Helena. You were provoke emoting at him which was just angering him.

If Bane could talk you don’t even want to guess what he’d say. “Surprised even with all those traps you still can’t catch me!” You provoke, he grunts angrily at you swiping his hook.

Using your sprint you duck behind a pallet. right behind that Edgar was there pallet stunning him, getting his face in the process.

“How unsightly, a rouge animal.” Edgar says to Bane as he begins painting his face. You and Edgar kite side by side a moment.

“Shouldn’t you be decoding?” You ask pulling him out of the way of Banes hook. “You came to my cipher.” He says bluntly as he finishes his painting.

He quickly placed it down. “Since you don’t want my assistance i’ll go decode.” He feins a somber tone as he rushes off.

Finally after letting 4 ciphers pop and putting trap quite literally everywhere, Bane downed you. He picked you up angrily and slamming you down into the chair.

When he slammed down the harness carelessly, not listening as you curse at him in pain.

“Cipher Machine Primed!” Helena’s voice could heard shouting out. Edgar was sprinting towards you, narrowly missing Bane’s hook.

And when he went to pulled up on the harness it didn’t lift up as usual. “It’s stuck..!” He says struggling against with the harness.

Your top had gotten enclosed when Bane carelessly chaired you, with one final tug Edgar got it up. It tore your shirt, nothing inappropriate was exposed thankfully.

Before Edgar could apologize Banes hook, which usually latched onto your clothes bit into you ripping your skin.

He downed you again. The cipher quickly popped, you get back up running away. Edgar put down his final painting escaping from Bane’s view with you.

You could hear banes angry growl. crouched down beside a wall Edgar look at your bleeding wound. “I’m sorry.. if only I had been more careful, his hook wouldn’t have taken a chunk of your skin like that.” He sounded so remorseful.

“It’s not your fault, the costumes they give out aren’t great quality anyways..!” You comfort him patting his hand.

“Hey on the bright side at least you didn’t expose me in any type of way.” You joke, he laughed lightly. “If I had don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let that animal see you.” And you believed that, especially with his loving gaze.

Mike Morton

Mike begged you to watch him practice some tricks outside, you really didn't want to since the last time you had watch him practice you had been hit in the face with one of his muddy bombs.

“Please, please, please, please” He says following you around hands clasped. He’d been saying it nonstop it was starting to not sound like a real word.

You turn around hands slamming down on his shoulders. “Mike, my dear Mike.” You say with a slight twitch in your eye.

He did bother listening to your refusal. “My dearest s/o, please come see this cool trick I've been practicing!” He said with a grin.

Mike was tugging you toward an empty room, which he had the help of Marg to turn into a practice room. “Now the thing about this cool and totally awesome trick is I need a partner” He gave you a smile.

“No way, your gonna have to find someone else to do it. I don't have a flexible bone in my body” You say trying to escape.

He quickly wrapped himself around you, quite literally koala attaching himself to you. “No wait, please! I tried practicing with Marg but I thought my performance would be better if it was with my sweet, handsome, beautiful, stunning-”

“Buttering me up isn’t gonna be enough to convince me, to allow you, to throw me around.” You push against him but it was like he was glued to you.

He just whined like a child, begging you. “Fine, one trick!” Too tired to argue against him you give in. Mike lets out a cheer, untangling his limbs from you.

“You have to get into some different clothes though” He turns to grab something, before holding out a similar acrobatic spandex outfit to his own. “Look we’ll have matching costumes!”

You sigh, taking the outfit going to change into it. “I have no Idea how you wear your acrobat costume in matches, it is tight in all the wrong places”

“Well I’ve been doing acrobatics for years now so I'm used to it. Now come on I’ll walk you through it, step by step, don’t worry!” He grins hands on your waist.

He did keep to his word walking you slowly through each move. It was easy to understand, still didn’t make your body any more flexible.

When it came to do the trick in real time you had messed up and Mike's hand placement in the wrong place.

In attempt to stop you from falling on your head Mike gripped tightly onto the tight spandex material. A tear sound echoed around the room as well as the sound of you also hitting the floor.

Mike quickly covered his eyes standing frozen holding like half the costume. "I swear I didn't see anything!" He still has his hand over his eyes, and a bright red blush on his face.

You give a weak glare up at him. "I am never doing acrobatics with you again Mike." He just nods still covering his red face.

I honestly am not very happy with Mikes but I tired. This isn't proofread

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #mike morton x reader #mike morton #acrobat idv #acrobat x reader #edgar valden x reader #painter x reader #edgar valden #painter idv

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sea-of-dust · 5 months

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Alva,Frederick,Edgar,Demi x Rock Vo. GN! Reader

Compared to the way you dress they would have never guessed you knew your way around a ballroom

N: I'm gonna keep thinking of acheron and black swans dances final frame. Also Frederick's new skin, that thing has a grip on me,poppin party,Céline Dion,Mustard service references

Warnings: mentions of drinking, might be ooc

Ugh, you and luca being friends is one thing, him noticing the hunter and saying "ez sweep" is another. Luca would tell you what to do against him you'd do it, he'd get pissed you two would do it everytime you see em. Strangely enough is that you've never seen Alva before and when you asked who the fabled "tall coat guy" luca would answer "litterally a tall coat guy"

As soon as you did see him however you knew why luca didn't want you to ever meet him. His cold gaze, the scar near his eye, the elegance he radiates. "Are you single?" "Excuse me?" Luca would know instantly if you met him when you come back like a children's cartoon protagonist that's just been kissed by their crush. "Wow..." he was mortified.

Luca does get a bit werided out when he thinks too much about you crushing on his teacher, that dosent stop him from giving you heads up tho. "There's a public map" you stop tuning your neck nearly snapping to see him "where? Can I perform? Is the tall coat guy gonna be there?" "Dunno" "I'll take it" So the most delulu person on earth (you/j) decided to perform under the deck of the ship, not paying much mind as you played songs you thought he'd like, trying not to make direct eye contact with this seemingly uninterested man, too focused on his conversation with the clerk. You thought maybe he had tuned you out after the first few chords, until the next match with him where he hummed. A humming a little too similar to the lyrics you sang. While kiting him you could barely believe your ears, you had to have Demi fact check you.

A few more performances and a chair was all it took for him to begin to speak to you. "That voice of yours is wonderful" your eyes widen, looking up at him quickly, he smirks, reminiscing on the concert. "I'm normally not the type to like rock. I'm glad you're an acception" you froze, you could have sworn he could hear you internally scream or atleast see you blush as much as you did

He isn't very social but you've gotten the treat of seeing him smile, and not terror shock you as much. "You've gotten soft" "have I now?" In truth you went from being able to kite at least 3 ciphers to 2.5, he doesn't terror shock you but he makes up for it in actual shocks. Atleast he's friendly enough to show you where the dungeon is before poking you with the staff. There would also be the occasional soft look in his eyes eventually making a bit more physical contact with you. "You're so pretty" you re-wrap his bandages causally mummbling that out, he retracted his hand quickly. "Did I tie something too tight?" "No" you hold out your hand for his arm. "Do you really think im pretty" your eyes widen "I didn't think you heard me but yea, the way your eyes pierce into people is attractive" you blush embrassed you're rambling this much "atleast in my opinion" he looks away before placing his arm into your hand to continue wrapping, you continue on nervously wrapping them. He'd look at them later on in the match, thinking about what you said, it's too distracting for him to just not hear "you're pretty" over and over

He'd ask you out pretty awkwardly, because it would be straight to the point. "I love you, please consider me as a partner" "." He'd stand there like a brick and you would be to, out of pure shock your brain would have just exploded by then. "Sure-" brainfart of an answer, biggest regret of your life. Thank god he didn't seem to mind.

He likes comming out of his office just to see you out there practicing, you'd hear his foot steps and greet him with a smirk. "You've been in there for 15 hours I can't feel my hands" "I'm sure you're fine" "they feel like white noise" "so you feel them" "no" closing his eyes he'd listen to your careful fingers press on strings and strum, whenever he opened his eyes he always looked love struck so you try to block out his face from your mind, but the more you try to shut it out the more clear it gets. You had to stop looking at him when you practice

He'd notice if you've overused your voice during a match. Coughing, trying to relieve strain, pinching the front of your neck. He'd stop you mid kite and tell you about ways to relieve it. "Hopefully you like tea and honey." "?" "For your throat" "oh" he kisses your forehead. "I'll prepare some after this. Go decode for now" you'd have a higher chance of failing ciphers after that, Luca had to supervise. "He's so pretty..." "decode for him" easiest way to get you to lock in and to shut up about Alva

The only pet peeve he has with you is when you're both in a match and a survivor would say something along the lines of "I don't know how to get around this hunter" and you and luca would respond simultaneously "ez sweep" so he started finding loop holes, such as winking at you during kites, flirting with you if he found you first leaving the cipher bare, and just going after Luca first. He was no longer "ez sweep" to you two anymore, you had to tell a new survivor to "follow their gut!" For a while

He didn't care much for your rumors about being an aristocrat, if anything they're an afterthought, and an explanation on why you're able to causally name plants, and almost never use your hands when eating you'd eat fruits with a fork or a toothpick. This did come into play when you asked him to dance. Surely nothing it could be fine? He barely remembers how to do ballroom dance, so you went easy on him. It felt like a roller coaster. You could be able to tell he was embrassed everytime he almost stepped on your feet, the quick turns he wasn't ready for you'd catch his eyes widen. Somehow able to dip someone as tall as him you catch an exhausted smile on his face. "I should do this more often with you" he scoffs "maybe another time"

Ugh, as a musician he respects you knowing your talents after attending a show you did in the lobby, or just hearing it blast a few times but knowing your background you're gonna have to go the extra mile to even get him to associate with you. A person dressed like some local turning out to be an aristocrat, and their family respects that? Ridiculous you must be lying

He'd warm up to you slowly, he was annoyed he could hear you practice? Take these headphones. Then he couldn't hear the piano? Alright you'll change the time you do practice. He'd hate to admit it but when overwhelmed He'd purposely look for you while practicing, chaotic riffs like the ones you play would usually overwhelm him, but there's a difference when you practice, you're humming the lyrics softly while playing watered downed versions of certain bits, sometimes pleasing soft riffs. It's therapeutic, won't let you catch him listening though

That changes when you begin to date him. Now he's in the same room! "Im gonna pratice one i dont think youd like much" "I'm sure I can enjoy it regardless" you hum uncertainly hesitantly placing your fingers where they need to go, and begin to play, the melodies seeming uncertain of themselves as if shy. "With all the times I made mistakes infront of you I never expected you to be so considerate it hurts your performance" he sits closer to you "I'll be alright, play as you see fit regardless of me being in audience" "alright..." You play a bit hesitantly in the beginning, but pretty quickly you practice as usual, you sigh as you complete it. "That was too difficult" "do you want me to not be here when you practice?" You're not very sure how to answer that

He'd enter your room at night. "I know you're awake" "WOAH" you jolt back squinting your eyes to try and get a better look at him. "Why are you here at this hour?" "I got scared" "Sure bud" you embrace him, letting stiff arms return the favor. In truth he was kept awake by the thoughts of things couples usually do, sleeping in the same bed being one of them, imagining you there just wasn't going to cut it for him, to have you near him, to trust him enough to sleep in the same room as him let alone close to his chest, he felt at ease. You would wake up to his grip firmly around you or from him carassing your cheek or playing with your hair.

It feels werid when you two aren't in manor games together, you're like eatchothers lucky charms, he can't really handle if you're in too many games without him in a row. "I gotta get back soon Frederick might sleep on the piano again" Demi raises an eyebrow "he what?" "what if he stares so hard at my guitar it ends up full of sorrow" Demi's heard it all, she's heard of him evaporating, laying on couches, playing piano then sighing pausing and continuing to play a more loudly and harshly (according to Luca) "he thinks about alota things at once you know"

He does feel a bit strange when it comes to physical affection. Hugs and small kisses did feel a icky, when you do show him physical affection you'd try to keep it to a minimum accolading this, he judges you for that. Playing with his hair and stopping he looks up at you with narrowed eyes "what?" "Keep going" he grumbles. He'd start turning around to judge you if you dared to remove your hands from him. Sometimes even initiating, which would confuse and fluster the heck out of you. He does have his limits don't push them and he'll be fine.

He'd invite you to practice with him sometimes. It would always fluster the hell outta you but barely for him. "Are you sure?" You look around a bit frantically "I'm sure" "I'll get my gutair then" as soon as you sit down with him it usually goes with him beginning to play, you joining in after seeming to get the gist, you realize there was sheet music the entire time for you, say that you're "built diffrent" for just knowing what to play automatically "I'm just built like that" "Uh huh..." he disregards it, he knows you forget about the sheet music most of the time. Atleast he doesn't stay there for hours away from most people, that much anymore, now he spends atleast half of that practice session with you.

So to punish you for almost always never paying attention, he decided to make a song, no surprise he'd already think of making you a song, this was just an excuse for if you ever asked him why. "Do you mind if we practice again today" "you can't get enough of me can you" teasing him, you go with him hearing the unfamiliar song he began to play, you get behind him and begin to read the sheet music. "This one has alot of emotion to it" you continue to listen, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I think I got this" letting go of him, you play along with the emotional tone of the song. Test magically passed

You'd tease him with some song choices, letting him recognize the songs he wrote played on your gutair, or singing a lyric he just can't pass over for some reason "you haven't found everything you've been searching. Find it with me then we'll lose it and find it again" he blushes you could tell he was thinking too much on it. he turned away closing his eyes as you continued on singing, was your voice always this hypnotizing? Why are these chords so flustering now of all times? "Please stick to rock" "this is rock" "oh" you could barely hear that, getting closer to him you whisper in his ear "pleasantries-" "something I say to you, love" "so you know this" he tries to hide his flustered face. "The lyrics are pretty tame I'm surprised a song you've heard for a while now flustered you" you hug him kissing his cheek. You look foward to his reaction whenever you play songs like that near him, or just him paying too much attention to the lyrics and drifting into his imagination

Now imagine him finding out those you being an aristocrat rumors were real. You had him thinking you were normal until you ate a grape with a toothpick and knew how to tie his aggressively fancy bows. As soon as a partner dance came along you quite litterally swept him off his feet. A style of partner dance that was unique full of dramatic turns it almost felt like you were just dragging him along a bit, a weightless, graceful dance that would have been unexpected if you weren't accustomed to it. A dip is where you two make eye contact. "Did I tuker you out too much?" You smile uncertainly,him huffing to catch his breath, his mind racing with thoughts. "I'm fine" "would you like to do for another then?" "I'd rather not"

Ugh, pretty loud and he just hears the mumbles, he'll think it's incoherent metal, disrupts painting when you hear a sudden yell no matter how pretty it is

He dosent dislike you personally, after all you gave him your spare ear muffs when he brought this up to you. He becomes a good ally after that, you could go for a rescue and he'd be able to cover you. Those ear muffs come in handy, so handy that hunters try to take them. Unfortunately, you or him are always the first to yank them off or knock It out the hand of the hunter

He would slowly become apart of you Demi and Lucas crew. That one guy in a group that's never there but when he is it makes that day better, he's that guy. It gets so hype over there the hunter would turn their head wondering about the noise. "we got it guys!!" "YEA" "were getting a 4 escape!!" The hunters oprea singer

He'd grow super attached to you after you say something positive about his art. "Youve made this in a day?" "Yea?" "I find that hard to believe, the layering in this, the way they don't just lay ontop of eatchother but blend, not to mention accurate shadows" you take a pause dazed at the fine work. "It's beautiful" he doesn't speak, shocked that you knew the beauty and worth of his art something that most he met didn't understand, he fell for you hard over those comments, exactly why he shows you his pieces more often

You two would start dating rather quickly, you dropping signs the most aggressive way possible, causally holding hands when alone, sharing a cipher and really bad ideas "we should rescue luca" "no" "?" "He told me I should cut my canvas in half so I had four drawings instead of two" "...I mean in concept it's good but it might set ya off" "it already did" "after half then?" "Yea" thankfully Demi swooped in

You do try to sit down and paint with him. It was like a toddler following along a Bob Ross tutorial, but atleast Bob didn't stare at your painting for long periods of time. "Are you familiar with aristocrats?" "Yea?" He narrows his eyes "are you one?" "Are my drawings that bad?" "No these strokes are just ones nobility usually do" "crazy" he knew you were an aristocrat, and one that appreciated his art is even better. "Consider me your biggest fan in the art world" he giggles going back to his piece

He's run out of paintings during a match? Suddenly this isn't a match it's a rock show. "Find something in the item boxes nearby I'll distract them for you" distract them the loudest way possible how did you even bring an amp to a match?! "Why do you keep playing poppin party songs" "1) they're loud enough to cover the sound of us moving 2) they're more focused on me, the source of the music and 3) if you actually noticed" you point at Joseph "I found out he in particular has a real liking for Arisa he's not just gonna ignore her out of all people" Sure enough a familiar photographer appeared in the distance. "You mind opening the exit gate"

Despite him being sarcastic as hell he tries to sing along when you practice or perform. "You look like someone just sucked the life outta you" "how do you do this on the regular?" "Vocal practice wait till you have to scream in matches to save people" "." This stuff isn't for him but listening to you do it sounds alot better, and its nice to hum. You've caught him humming more times than you can count, and whenever you tell him he gets embrassed. "It's cute tho" "I'm sure the hunter could catch us if I continued" "They're across the map"

He hates the way you kiss whenever you're rushing somewhere. You do this thing he calls the entertainer's peck. Where you'd wave or acknowledge him, kiss his cheek and continue walking. He hates it because of how it lingers, you can't just take his hand to turn him toward you only to kiss him on the cheek and leave to a concert area or to decode. You're making him lose focus, one of those kisses that make you want another. You'd have him mummbling like a fool, espically if he could chase after you he'd give you his own peck, which led to the part he hated the most, the soft "I'll cherish this" expression on your face when you look back at him. He's giving you another until you stop looking at him like that!

He knew you were an aristocrat and he was thankful for it there was a higher chance you realized his talents. Hed ask you to dance first. "Shall we dance?" "Sure" informal way of accepting but formal style of dance. The way you both were able to be in sync no matter what move you threw at him, it turned out to be more of a test of skill than a friendly dance, as soon as you dipped him you could see all of the energy he lost hit him at once as he could barely keep himself up, you giggled at his predicament. "We should do this more often, you're alot more used to this than I thought" "we should, maybe I could try tossing you" his face straightens "nevermind"

Party! She's litterally with you all the time, with Luca as a carry on. You three would basically host rock concerts in the manor. You'd sing about freedom and living on, who cares for the noise complaint invest in ear plugs!!

You'd always be with her or luca during the games, though you do prefer Demi a bit more, she dosent laugh so hard it alerts the hunter. She's also more aware than Luca making running away alot easier. Though after games you prefer Luca, Luca doesn't cling to you so much you have to sleep in the same bed as him to make him feel better, he just calls you his hero

Does help when you're rescuing her, Naiad could be dashing toward you yet all be stopped by a simple ear spliting shreak from you, you had her seeing double. "I didn't know you could also do metal" "it's useful with the amount of commissions I get"

She'd randomly get an idea to try and wing along while you play. "I got it I got it" reasuring herself you begin to play familiar chords as she opens her mouth you change them to diffrent ones "I DONT KNOW THE LYRICS TO TEAR DROPS" "you got it!" She indeed barely had it, barely able to say of the lyrics correctly. Her revenge? "You mind playing this" she shows you probably the most confusing sheet music you've seen in your career a Frederick special if you will. "Alright-" and so the manor wondered what happened to the music they randomly heard when passing your room for the next 2 days

She'd fall asleep If you two weren't summoned for a round that day leaving you and her alone to explore the manor or practice guitar. People would come and go to you twos makeshift karoke. Espically Norton apparently. "IT WAS LOST LONG AGO BUT ITS ALL COMMING BACK TO ME" those two would sing with their hearts out the whole manor could tell you the lyrics by heart. You could play a cord to a song she'd accidently "ITS ALL COMMING BACK TO ME" "." "That wasn't the right song?" "No"

Almost scream royality. Random bug? "AHHHHHH" small spoke? "AUHHHHHHH" you and luca pretending to be possessing eatchothers bodies "NOOOOOO" surprisingly she doesn't scream like this when a giant nun lady jumps at her, except when she did and found out why you're scream royality. "So how'd ya get chaired?" "Rescue me first" "you're way too far from half" she pouts "so I tried screaming to burst her ear drums like you do..." "and?" "And she looked me straight in the eyes, then the cat screamed louder I swear it was like one of yours and then I was here" ".pft" "not cool!"

She gets tipsy during rounds, leading to some fun confessions of love. "Y/n...I love youu" she leans onto you, puckered lips to an exaggerated degree. "I gotta decode Demi" sighing you let her cling onto you tighter "did any person tell you how cute you are? Am I the first?" "You aren't" she gasps dramatically "reallllyyyy?" "Yea, a barmaid got to me before you" she blows a raspberry

She leads you away for rounds, asking for help setting up a kiting area. "Thanks for the help" she lands a kiss on your cheek. "Demi" "what?" "I appreciate it but Luca might vomit over this again" "he forced himself to" she wraps her arms around your waist, leaning in to be closer to you "he'll be fine" he wasn't fine. "You two really gotta get a room" "wadya mean?" "You keep looking with these lovey dovey eyes, were all on the same cipher and that poor guys probably single handedly evading that rock guy. "Arent they the same person" "yea they both got that same scar" "now you're tag teaming me?" "Yea" you both make the same look.

If she were ever to escape the hunter injured she'll run to you near instantly. "I think you should kiss me and all my injuries will heal" "that's not how it works Demi" you continue your healing "you're so warm..." "I know" "hehe" you kiss her forehead, finishing up. "I'm still injured" she dramatically places her hand on her forehead, both of you hearing a cipher being popped. "Oh look you're at full health" she sighs "worth a shot"

You being an aristocrat? She didn't care much but it did affect how you did certain things, and explained why you knew how to take care of plants,paint, and piano...barely the gutairs more fitting. When you asked her to dance, she got flustered, such a formal request, but comming from you it should have been a bit obvious it was comming. She didn't expect how graceful you were, it felt like an instructor dancing with their student for a test, the turns focused eyes turning to soft looks whenever you made eye contact with her. It was a flustering the hell outta of her she couldn't think for more than two secounds with you suddenly invading her thoughts with the shift in demeanor. When she took the lead by the end and dipped you, you seemed to snap out of it. "You're really good at improv" "how sweet of you" she huffs bringing you up to stand. "Would you like to dance again later?" "You sound like an old noble"

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fishermanshook · 3 months

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ASK: hi! i couldn't find if requests are open, sorry if they're closed rn. can i request some composer, orpheus and painter x fem/gn reader fluff?

DATE NITE!

( composer , novelist & painter ) + gn!reader

˙✧˖°🍓 ༘ ⋆｡˚ modern/celeb. au ?? , chars. are considered pretty big in the fine arts department + the world pretty much , silly little dates w/ them , ooc a bit , lower case intended , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

mundane dates for people with too much on their plate.

꒰wc꒱ 1 k

THE COMPOSER ; FREDRICK KRIEGBURG

♫ | when it comes to going on dates with the musician, he much rather prefers something more secluded. something personal between the two of you. that’s why he [politely] turns down any offers on going out to things that are known for having big crowds, like festivals or loud concerts.

♫ | it’s the little things that count to fredrick, truly. the homemade dinner has been platted and served along with dimly lit candles and rose petals scattered across the floor. it’s so romantic and fredrick can’t help but feel so loved by you.

♫ | you’ve got music playing in the background as well. and, once you finish your meal, the two of you sway and dance to the song. the composer kisses your lips and for once, it feels like it’s just you and him, and he wishes he could do this with you every night.

the composer looks at you with playful contempt. “is this my song you're playing?”

you throw your head back in laughter. “of course it is silly, I’d be mad if I didn’t play at least one of your songs tonight.”

♫ | eventually, your dancing leads you to freddrick’s piano in the living room. you sit next to him as he plays you his newest creation. it’s a masterpiece, you tell him, followed by the question of what he’ll name it. fredrick chuckles to himself before revealing to you that it’ll be named after you.

“[name]’s symphony, doesn’t that sound delightful?”

THE NOVELIST ; “ORPHEUS” DEROSS

♪ | orpheus, similar to fredrick, likes to keep things personal. not the biggest fan of crowds, but he’s been in the middle of a few big ones due to book signing. he’s not too picky about what dates you guys go on and enjoys most if not all of the outings you plan together.

♪ | so what’s better than a coffee date followed by book shopping? well, lots of things in reality. orpheus definitely participated in extravagant and expensive activities thanks to his earned riches. but a coffee date makes everything feel normal again, a simpler time when he wasn’t flooded with the need to release the next great book. it’s a great way to spend time with you, he thinks.

♪ | the date is filled with hushed whispers and silent giggles as the two of you browse the library, steaming hot coffees in hand. or maybe it’s hot chocolate in your hand. you're too distracted with reading the back of another book to let him have a better look at your drink.

↳ going to a bookstore as a date was more of a “kill two birds with one stone” kind of deal. you knew that it would be a nice way to spend time together without doing anything too grand, and orpheus gets to look for new inspiration. plus, you get to see if any best sellers catch your eye.

“ooooo I like the sound of this book! I think I’m gonna snag it for myself.”

“lemme see, I can probably get it for you.” [he’s going to steal in and read it himself when you’re not looking]

♪ | you expect him to be engulfed in the books around him, flipping through the pages and seeing what other authors have put on display. instead, he looks at you with a type of fondness only you are graced with. he brings a thumb to your lip to wipe off the excess hot chocolate around your mouth. you smile and lean into his warm embrace.

“sorry, I'm too busy looking at you to notice any of the other books. let’s pick out some more together, ‘k?”

THE PAINTER ; EDGAR VALDEN

♩ | edgar valden is widely known for his skills when it comes to painting. he’s perfected everything, he’s mastered every medium, and his inspiration is seemingly endless. that’s what everyone thinks.

↳ edgar lets you in on probably one of his darkest secrets one night, lying in bed: he hasn’t mastered every single medium there is. his inspiration runs out quicker than most would think. and yes, he hasn’t truly perfected everything when it comes to the arts [mostly saying painting]. the reality of it all rains down on him with the pressure to fulfill such beliefs, but you let him know that it’s okay not to. no one should be expected to accomplish such a feat.

♩ | that’s why little dates like these are the ones he probably cherishes the most, despite how embarrassed and anxious he is walking into the art studio.

“they were 5 dollars a person! I thought it could be nice because we could both work on our art skills.”

“[NAME] WHAT IF SOMEONE NOTICES ME?!?!?”

♩ | that’s why he’s so nervous. the edgar valden, in a beginner's art class, learning how to make pottery? don’t the people expect more of him? you tell him no and that, they shouldn’t because he’s human.

↳ legit started hiding his face at the start of the session ‘cause he was so afraid someone would comment about him being here. you had to pry his hands away from his face.

♩ | it isn’t until maybe halfway through the class he starts to get the hang of things, and you're not far behind either. his beautiful, hand-crafted bowl looks stunning, you tell him. Well, not really. it looks more like a pinch pot, but you think it’s best to keep that to yourself.

↳ neither of you is good at pottery, and it just makes learning it that much more fun for the both of you. [edgar refuses to admit smh] he’s secretly dedicated to making a vase to replace the broken one in your apartment. he’ll paint it your favorite color and doodle your favorite flowers all across it. although, he can’t say that this is looking that much like a vase…

♩ | the two of you are complete messes at the end of it. colorful paint splattered across your face along with dried clay stuck and chipped off underneath your fingernails. you walk out having done your first of many pottery classes that day.

“thank you for planning this out. I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would, really.” edgar states before leaving a fleeting kiss on your cheek.

note: his my fishies…🤭🤭🤭 hope you all are having an amazing day / night. enjoy this short little request i got <3

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yourantag · 6 months

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The Red Means I Love You (Edgar×Reader)

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

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

Among many genres, you favored one above the others.

Horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, yeah, that was fair.

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

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

Well, kind of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” You responded.

That had been enough for him.

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a letter in your mailbox.

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

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

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

You unfold the letter and read.

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

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

“You’re an idiot.”

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

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

It made you really want to tease him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin, chasing after him once more.

“So does this mean you forgive me?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

You received no response, however.

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

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

The silence was really getting to you.

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

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

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

Blue, like the swirling vortex of the night sky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t have the heart to say no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause, turning to look at Demi.

“Who?”

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

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

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

Demi gives you a deadpan expression in response.

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

Well, that’s news to you.

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

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

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

“Nope, not at all.”

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

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

“Be wary of him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you read.

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

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

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

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

I think I’ll start with that novelist.’

Your blood runs cold.

Fuck.

FUCK.

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

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

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

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

Almost comically, everything clicks in place.

Camellias.

Red.

Ignoring them.

Edgar.

You bolt out of your room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You really wish you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

75 notes · View notes

aliceia-xi · 9 months

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General Edgar Valden headcanons

X Gn reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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strawberryvera · 2 months

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ VALENTINES WITH THEIR S/O —-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

annie and edgar x gn reader head cannons!

cw: none!!

a/n: I haven’t written in forever, so I’m sorry I’m my writing comes off awkward!! I’m currently writing this at 1am, so my brain is kinda turned off so sorry if I make a sentence that litteraly just sounds like me yapping… nonetheless hope you enjoy!!

sfw!!

ANNE LESTER

- Annie was always such a sweetheart, and that never changed when she got with you! She loves Valentine’s Day, and she loves giving gifts! Expect to be given quite a few things by her.

- right when you woke up that morning, annie made sure to give you your gifts, the gifts consisted of a handmade teddy bear she gave you, and a small box of chocolates. She was particularly ecstatic about giving you the teddy bear, as toys were always the thing that bought her the most joy even at her lowest points, and she really hopes she can share that joy with you!

- cuddles on that day! Lots of them. She’s an affectionate person when it comes to you, and she makes sure to let you know that she wants today to be about you two. She will give you tons of hugs and forehead kisses :3 !!

- she also made you guys small matching wooden heart keychains! each of you got a half, and when you put it together, it forms a little wooden heart, how cute!

- you guys spent the day in annies workspace, you both sat down and made each other small wood carved toys about the size of your normal sea shell. With a bit of help from your dear annie, you made her a small wooden carved teddy bear, and a duck, and annie made you your favorite animal!

EDGAR VALDEN

- the arrogant and cold painter you where introduced to with your first interaction compared to how he is with you now, it’s almost so different to how he treats you now..I mean it’s still kinda there, but he tries his best to set that aside, especially today.

- he loves giving you his artwork as small gifts, he does it quite frequently actually. It was a portrait of you that he gave you on valentines, you can tell he spent extra time on this one to perfect it. Portraits and just drawing people in general aren’t necessarily his strong suit, so he was a bit nervous giving you it, but overall happy and content when he saw that you absolutely adored it.

- you very much loved the painting he gave you, and you made sure he knew. He loves receiving praise on his work, so you gave him lots of compliments and praises on the artwork, even if it boosted his ego a bit.

- he’s not very good at showing affection, let alone physical affection, but he tries, and he really did try today. He made sure to remind you that he loves you a lot verbally today, and made sure to give you lots of hugs today as well.

- you spent your day with edgar in the manor garden, where he painted you. He has painted you here before, but he did everything so that he could make it extra special, especially for the day it was.

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scenesniper · 2 years

Note

Edgar nsfw headcanons? Idk why but he had me weak in the knees

☆ edgar valden ; general nsfw headcanons

pairing / edgar valden x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / overstimulation, choking & orgasm denial

word count / 647 words

⭒ sex is a beautiful but terrifying thing to edgar. he's picky with the person he sleeps with and will only finally settle down with someone he's emotionally attached on. he's uncertain at first with you as he's never slept with anyone before, yet alone, have formed a deep connection with anyone. he's hesitant with his touches as he doesn't know your body language yet but don't worry. edgar's a fast learner.

⭒ a switch but prefers to be the dominant one almost every time. edgar loves to be in control but there are times where he just wants to sit back and relax where you'll have to take the reign. however the entire time, he'll still be commanding brat. that's just how he is.

⭒ bounce on his dick and his teeth will be seething from the pleasure. that's the quickest way to make him shut up.

⭒ when he's in control, he loves to just focus and barely says anything the entire time. he is into degrading though and if you're a brat back to him, perfect. he's a snarky bastard that won't hesitate to snap back.

⭒ he is driven by praise though. even in his everyday life, he'll be complimented constantly almost every day and yet, it still brims his ego max to this very day. comment on how amazing he looks or how good he makes you. he won't respond but he'll have an invisible smirk.

⭒ he's really intense, both physically and emotionally. choking, gagging, overstimulation. he's extremely sensual during sex so he wants his hands on any part of your body. he won't ever admit this but he just loves the thought of physically being so close to you, whether it be inside of you or just your sweating bodies together.

⭒ orgasm denial. that's it. he just loves the way you squirm your thighs and your brimming eyes with your constant murmuring pleas. he loves the way you look so disarrayed and lost. beg for it and maybe he'll finish the job for you or better yet, he'll leave you empty the entire night. he's a brat, what else is there?

⭒ despite being a total asshole to you, when the tables are turned, he'll be the one constantly stammering. cries and whimpers of agony and pleasure (yes, he's the type to whimper).

⭒ strictly only the bedroom! sex is a big thing to him and would ever only want his partner to see such an emotionally vulnerable side of him.

⭒ surprisingly, edgar can be quite the romantic in bed. he's the type to set the mood. real red roses and small candles lit and scattered around the bedroom floor.

⭒ but just because he’s a bit of a romantic at times, don’t forget how this man can still be the biggest asshole alive. he refuses to go down on you unless you prep yourself first for him. he'll watch your every move, not daring to blink as he admires you touching yourself. however, if he's feeling greedy or horrible that day, he'll skip all of that and straight go for it. if you prep yourself in advance, he'll tease you about it on how you so badly want him inside of you but force you to still prep for him again.

⭒ edgar is the nasty type to smear cum all over on your body, especially your stomach. when his new masterpiece is done, he'd make you clean up the mess on his fingers. he loves the feeling of your tongue swirling all around his cum soaked finger.

⭒ be his muse. pose for him because he'll want to paint you. just your bare body is so beautiful to him, he doesn't want to show the world your beauty but instead, keep it all to himself and something and some place to admire you in the dark.

#identity v #idv #identity v smut #idv smut #identity v x reader #idv x reader #edgar valden #edgar valden x reader #edgar valden x reader smut #idv x reader hc #idv x reader hcs #idv x reader headcanon #idv x reader headcanons #identity v x reader headcanon #identity v x reader headcanons #identity v x reader hc

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sandwichfordinner · 2 years

Note

Hi its me strawberry anon *greedily eats ALL OF UR WORK* i missed u <3 so ill have a request

Can u do naib, ganji, luca, and edgar meeting their GN! S/O again after getting stuck in the game? its like us when u quit and came back frfr

Hello strawberry anon!🍓 Thank you for the support and thank you requesting! Here is your meal🥘

Tw: angsty at the beginning

˖ ָ࣪ 𓏲⋆.

ɴᴀɪʙ

It has been 4 days since he last saw you in a match and you didn’t return. He was so worried he thought he lost you forever. Even in matches he was searching everywhere in the sacred heart hospital where he lastly saw you. He didn’t find you. He lost so many important people in the army and now you too.

He hasn’t really eaten, and some of the people were trying to cheer him up like mostly Emma, but he was always with that tired blank stare.

He even struggled with sleeping.. Your warmth.. Was gone.. Well thats what he thought.

It was that day that you got back, but badly injured, you had dried blood on ur face and head and scratches on your hands and legs. You were barely walking. The moment you opened the big door , Patricia saw you. She was passing , she flinched at the sudden opening of the door revealing your shaking figure trying to walk. You tried so hard staying in two legs but your legs gave up. She caught you from fainting and immediately screamed Emily’s and Naib’s name. Emily was the first one to see you and she quickly ran up to you , holding your tired figure. No so long after Naib came downstairs and when he saw you his eyes widened. He quickly ran and hugged you, crying. He stuttered and sobbed.

You are okay now, just two-three small scars on your body but they aren’t visible. He is so glad that you are back, you have no idea how worried he was for you.. You’re back..

Gᴀɴᴊɪ

Oh poor Ganji..

He wasn’t the same. He didn’t even touch his food most of the times. He just lost another person that meant a lot to him, and stayed by his side through this nightmare. His mother… and now you?? He cannot believe this. 6 days you haven’t returned.. What happened and where are you?? You and two other people had to search for some food. That was a rule in the manor. If you don’t want to go and find some food everyone will starve. And going out of the manor was quite dangerous too.. This isn’t some 5 star hotel that gives you tons of delicious food every week no no.. Find by yourself outside the manor or starve.

He began to sob quietly in his room all alone. Again..

There was a knock heard outside his door. But he didn’t manage to answer, and who stays that long, it’s 3:17 AM? (who is gonna tell him)

,,Ganji.. it’s me’’. Wait.. That voice that slipped out of the person’s throat was.. you?!

He quickly opened the door with widened eyes. You were standing in front of him with a soft smile, but little scratches on your face. You held some fruits for him in a basket.

He quickly hugged you almost making you drop the basket with the fruits, he started to shake and silently sob. He tried to talk but you hugged him back, telling him to not speak because he was about to have a breakdown.

It’s really you..

Lᴜᴄᴀ

He was laying on the sheets of his bed looking at the ceiling.

He felt empty. He couldn’t really explain it with words.

Luca is one of the energetic and fun people in the manor but since you were missing things went quite the opposite.

He was working on his inventions, but every time he messed up making him feel more and more mixed feeling of disappointment, anger and sadness.

You were last seen outside the manor , near the garden where Emma plants. At least that’s what Eli said.

What happened? Where are you? Those questions were roaming his head.

He started tearing up, saying bunch of ,,I miss you,, or ,,please come back,, . He curled like a ball on his bed, having a big pain in his stomach from worry.

It has been three hours and Luca was sleeping. He opened his eyes and got up from his bed, almost fainting from low iron. He was barely walking down the halls so he can get a glass of water. He looked at the big windows to see it was night time. What time is it??..

As he went in the little kitchen where the people shared , he saw a figure drinking some water. It looked… familiar. He got a closer look and it was his s/o…

You quickly noticed him and smiled warmly at him. Is he dreaming? What is going on.

He was staring at you with widened eyes, his words were stuck in his throat, he couldn’t speak. You gave him that ‘I will explain you later’ look, which he quickly understood (is that even possible or..)

You gave him a tight hug , letting him to spill all his emotions on you.. He returned the hug more tightly than you, crying. He didn’t want to let you go. Just for a minute..

Eᴅɢᴀʀ

‘Where are you?’ , that’s what he thought while he was about to start a match.

He felt more closed than before.

As the match started , he was the first one to be chased. He did really badly , he barely kited 20 seconds. He was tired, and didn’t even felt like walking. Before Geisha could pick him up he started crying. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, his body couldn’t move. She noticed him and just stared at him. She quietly sighed, meaning she was apologising, tied him in balloons and placed him on the rocket chair. He wasn’t even struggling.

Tears couldn’t stop falling down his cheeks, he was looking down at the floor, while his teammates were screaming at him ,,You’re on your own!’’ from afar. Michiko stayed silent. It was obvious that no one was going to rescue him.

He flew back to the manor.

When he was exiting from the match room, he saw you sitting on a old wooden chair waiting. Were you waiting for him?? What.. WHAT

You looked up and smiled at him, you had bandages on your hands.

,,Edgar.’’ Your quiet and sweet voice made him feel.. what is that? Sad and happy?

,,I-is this really you..?” Edgar barely spoke, you stood up and held his hands.. Oh they had blood on them, he even had scars from them.. His outfit was dirty looking and a little torn.

You softly looked at him. ,,What happened love? Let’s go to your room and talk and heal your wounds, yeah?’’ You kissed his knuckles making him feel butterflies in his stomach.

,,I-I..” he was so confused. ,,Please..?’’

,,Of course” you kissed his wet cheek ,,I will tell you everything, and I promise I won’t leave you again.’’

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turbulentscrawl · 7 months

Text

Reminders of the Horror (Norton & Edgar)

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

Your ears are ringing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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inferencesarchives · 10 months

Note

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

`•- Portrait of My Heart

edgar valden x fem reader

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

warnings: none that i know of

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

He always had an eye for beauty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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kohabielnin · 8 months

Text

Headcanon A Match With

How long people… yes I'm alive, I've just been quite busy, but now I'm here to write a little

Journalist/Alice Deross

• She'll make sure you're okay since she doesn't want to see anyone hurt,

• If you are trapped, she is the first to rescue you,

• It helps you get rid of the Hunter and decode,

• If you get hurt, she will take care of you until you are okay,

• She doesn't like seeing anyone near Hunter so she always finds a way to restrain Hunter until she finishes decoding,

• Hunter is rarely able to trap her, so you can be sure that she will help you and everyone in the match.

"Prisioner"/Luca Balsa

• He doesn't like it when you make a mistake in calibrating the machine,

• He doesn't like having to rescue people, but he does it for you, even if he complains a little,

• If you are bad at calibration, you can be sure that it will not stay close to you,

• A bit annoying, but if you know how to please him, he won't pretend you don't exist,

• He tries his best to stay away from Hunter, so if you and Hunter are close to him, he will thank you if you take Hunter away,

• Boring little creature by nature, but can get quite excited if you don't get in the way of decoding

Night Watch/Ithaqua

• If you are a Surviver, he will chase you until he is sure you lost the match,

• Now if you are Hunter, he will do his best so that you and he can win the match,

• It'll be a bit of a mess if you don't win the match,

• If you are a Hunter, make sure you pet his head when he wins, he likes it,

• If you are Surviver and hit him with a pallet… he can become an incredibly annoying Hunter to run away from,

• In general, it is peaceful, but it can turn into a nightmare in a matter of seconds.

Pinter/Edgar Valden

• Most arrogant person in the mansion? Yes for sure,

• He may very well rescue you and then curse you for being caught by the Hunter,

• If the match is not won because of you, he will become a beast,

• Let's face it, Edgar is an arrogant tsundere, so he has his moments of cursing you and treating you with respect,

• If you also like art, he might be a little calmer and less arrogant with you,

• We can say that he doesn't like having to save people, but if necessary, he will do it.

#identity v x reader #edgar valden #edgar valden x reader #ithaqua idv #ithaqua x reader #alice deross #alice deross x reader #luca balsa #luca balsa x reader

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nevermoreternity · 1 year

Text

𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥.

"Love is a vague topic, but many find

themselves exploring it. What is love

to someone who expresses themselves

within a white canvas rather than through words?"

𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗣𝗦.

The first time you met the painter was during your childhood. Innocence and purity surrounded you, curiosity brimming with every step you took outside. Vast shades of green and yellow in the grass, to the giant blanketing blue sky above. It was all so vividly colorful. Your eyes took in every sight you could, with the wind blowing gently against your skin. Yet something even more colorful than the surroundings was the boy clutching onto a sheet of paper beside you. Originally it was simple and blank, a white void. But as a few minutes passed, an image formed like a huge burst of cheers applauding over the canvas, all done by small hands similar to your own.

Edgar - the boy's name - looked up at you with a confused expression on his face. He was a lot younger back then; both of you were. He held not a paintbrush but a crayon that day, the loose leaf paper acting as his canvas for his brightly colored drawing. "What're you staring at?" His voice was high pitched and childish, his hands gripping the most recent drawing he had created. Peering over to the paper, you noticed it depicted a portrait of a woman and child, recognizing the familial roles they seemed to have just from the way the boy drew them. Inquiring about the two human figures, you only got a simple huff and a nod for acknowledgement.

"Ella's still in bed — she's been frowning a lot lately." Edgar muttered as his gaze returned to the drawing. You watched from your seat beside the boy, the way his hands naturally moved as if driven by pure instinct, the relaxed posture he had despite the amount of curious stares he received from passing crowds. At the thought of Ella, Edgar's younger sister, one could recall that she had gotten sick just a few months ago, which eventually led to her being bedridden. As a result, you came across the young artist sketching landscapes and animals and people outside much more often.

He went outside to find inspiration, mentioning various times that Ella favors outdoor paintings despite clearly saying they're too 'boring' normally. Over time, you got more comfortable with approaching Edgar, and he seemed to feel the same, calling out to you from a distance whenever he spotted you at a park. This led to many of your hang outs, usually with the time spent simply sitting down together somewhere and watching nearby flowers sway in the breeze. It sounds a bit boring, but you were able to manage staying put or would find something else to entertain yourself with. By the time the sun went down, Edgar would pack up his materials and say his farewell. His final words before you both returned to your homes would be a small promise to meet in the same spot tomorrow.

For the next year, that is how your friendship developed. Through peaceful park meetings.

𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡.

When you meet Edgar again, your encounter ends up being within the halls of the Oletus manor. It was dusty and closed in, colors muted and bleeding out. It was stuffy and suffocating, the exact opposite of when you first met the man when you were kids. Edgar wouldn't approach you at first. You soon figured out this was an effort to purposefully ignore you, with the amount of times he ditched a room you walked into or find himself turning the other way whenever you crossed paths coincidentally. Only when time passed for a long enough time would you find yourself in a match with the brunette. Even then, he was adamant on looking the other way from your direction. The other people assigned to the team looked confused at the strange tension between you two. Emma leaned over at the table to ask if you two know each other. No matter what your answer would be, Edgar stubbornly kept his back turned, remaining quiet.

Once the match concluded, with the results being put out, Edgar finally approached you on a whim, in the make-shift clinic of the manor. His arms were crossed, and a frown was settled on his face, the red poncho he wore popping out from the dark walls around you. It was a much better shade of red than the thick color dripping down your hand from the wound you had acquired during the earlier match. It seemed neither of you wanted to speak yet, Edgar simply sighing before gesturing for your hand – a rather sudden request after having him avoid you like the plague. Still, you silently watched as he took ahold of your palm, looking over the wound with a tight frown before quietly patching you up. The gauze was wrapped a little too tightly in the end, inexperienced but surprisingly not lacking in care. The awkward tension hanging in the air lasted a couple seconds before the painter finally spoke. His first words to you since you spotted one another in the manor. "Why are you here?" Edgar would question with that familiar expression of his, a face he only makes that shows he demands answers. A look you'd last seen years ago.

In the end, after hearing your full explanation, he only grumbled. "That's stupid." He commented, brushing over your words. Edgar didn't explain his own reason for coming into the cursed cycle in the manor's game of life, only prompting more questions from you. In the end, he simply decided to leave with a huff, just as frowny and tense as he was when he appeared. He walked away in a series of small stomps, as if he was in a hurry to leave your presence. You noticed his hands were tightly gripping onto his own arms.

By the time the next morning came, you found yourself staring at a small piece of paper that had been slipped under your room door. The feeling of it was recognizable. Thin and flat and delicate. In the middle of the leaflet was a drawing of something you had mentioned you like to a specific someone way in the past, words that seemed more like a back-handed compliment scrawled on top of the page. It was easy to connect the dots on who had left this for you. Or well, the signature on the back confirmed everything you needed to know.

𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚.

Maybe it took a while, or maybe you already had your suspicions. Either way, you found yourself seeing Edgar more and more following that instance in the clinic. The reserved behavior he had about you crumbled more and more as more time passed, and sooner than expected, you two were back to what you were before as children. It had come to your attention - as he reluctantly explained - that he didn't believe it was you at first, not expecting to find such a familiar face in Oletus manor, much less yourself. Denial fueled his actions, not wanting to be wrong in his suspicions but not knowing what he'd do if he confirmed it was actually you. In the end, it didn't matter, because the moment he finally came close enough to see the colors in your hair and the shades of your eyes, he knew.

With all grievances and tensions dusted away, now you found yourself with a feeling of deja vu. Sat some feet from you was the brunette, a blank canvas before the man rather than a simple sheet of paper. In his hand was a paintbrush instead of a crayon, clear care and effort shown in his grip of the painting tool. He asked you to pose for his next idea on the aspect of portraits, offering a compromise for your time in one way or another. The silence of the room after was heavy yet comfortable. Only to be broken when the seemingly focused painter utters out a curt "Sorry" from his lips. The apology escaped in a hush, lingering and dissipating like the paint absently dripping onto the floor that Edgar seemed to pay no mind to. Even the man himself didn't seem to acknowledge his own muttering of the word, eyes only focused on the image he was creating of you.

The apology may have been regarding the time that had passed between the two friends, a period of time where Edgar begun expressing a side that acted more than it spoke — or perhaps he was apologizing for the lack of things he could provide for their friendship. Regardless, your reply to the brief apology only makes his hand halt for a moment. His brow furrows ever so slightly, and his brushing over the canvas seamlessly picks up once more. Edgar wasn't the best at expressing his thoughts or feelings with his tongue and tone. Rather, he expresses his care through the quiet acts of peace he finds, away from the laminating presence of the manor and its residents. In the end, it was easy to fall back into a routine with him again, his harsh sentences proving to be nothing but a shell when it came to you.

Sometime later, he confronts you with a proposal. He insists you to be his muse; a way for him to 'make up' for the lack of time you two spent apart for the years in the past. Really, it's an excuse for him to spend time with you that you both are aware isn't as subtle as he seemed to think in his head. But when the sky outside grows dark, and you leave him alone for the evening, you find yourself in the painter's room the very next day, peacefully posing for another portrait of his, various other paintings hung up around the room, all of them familiar sights to you.

— end.

#idv x reader #edgar valden x reader #idv painter x reader #“I wanna nap” — 'Orpheus'#'Orpheus' Writes #With the help of 'Alice'

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