#idv victor reader

[theolmtales]

During These Snowy Night (Genderneutral)

Victor X Reader (can be read as both platonic or romantic)

Summary:

You & Victor have develop your own little way of communicating. & you're just enjoying each others company.

Rathed: Fluff

Warning: None

Not taking 2 months to post something? That is a miracle that will only happen once. Also thanks my english dictionnary for preventing me in using the scientific terms for anatomy. I keep forgetting the common ones... (I did not use it to write this sentence though).

The room was wrapped in darkness. Not the kind of darkness that leaves you anxious about what might be lurking in the dark. A soft darkness that brings comfort and peace. By the window, the moon’s light was passing through the grey cloud, reflecting on the snow. Snowflakes were falling slowly and covering the sleeping tree with a white coat.

In the bed, two people wrapped under the covers were keeping each other warm.

Your figure was facing the window, you’re back facing your friend, looking at the never-ending snow fall as you listened to him. Well, listening might not be the right word.

The stitches covering Victor’s mouth rendered him unable to speak. Not like he would do it even if he could & you didn’t need him to. If, at first, the Postman needed his trusted letters to communicate with you, you had learned to understand him with the passing days.

Unlike the others, you didn’t mind the communication barrier. You adjust your way of communicating as simply as if you were changing your walking pace. With the days you learned to understand his body language & sooner than later Victor could leave his stack of letters behind.

An unlikely friendship had formed the more you interacted with each other. In this never-ending hell of torments & death, it was a nice respite. It was rare to trust people in here. Whether it was because of past action or the stress from the matches,

Victor hated interacting face to face with people. Never trusting their true intentions. Then, what could have made him change is mind about you? Something only, you & him knew.

If some people develop special handshakes, little traditions & others with their loved ones, Victor & you share your own way of communicating.

The two of you had started to exchange in your own unique way. Using each others’ skin as paper. It had started one day when you couldn’t understand a word Victor was trying to communicate & you had offered him your wrist so he could write it there. Since then, your skin became like a back-up letter for him to put his thoughts into words the rare times you couldn’t grasp them.

Except one word became two, & than three, & so on. Until he was writing complete conversation on you. & Words became symbols. Brushing his fingers a certain way on a certain part of your skin would bring the two of you comfort before a match. Before long, you had started doing the same to him. Sometimes preferring to talk, but some other times preferring your silent exchanges.

Words weren’t a need for the two of you. But in the moments that you wish to exchange extensively on a subject, he was always content to listen to your voice. Again & again.

In the silence of this night, Victor’s fingers move softly as he caresses the words into your back. Particularly enjoying tracing along your spine. Hiding little drawings only the two of you knew the significance of. He would ask you questions, & you would simply answer him with your voice. The sound lulling him in a sense of peace.

This exchange was nothing people would consider essential. Meaningless questions, wandering thoughts, charades, stories with neither tail nor head & many others. But it wasn’t important.

Because it was not the information exchanged during that time that was important. It was the moment.

These moments were for the two of you only. Shrouded with peace & love until the moment Morpheus would come & claim both of you. Sometimes together, sometimes one after the other.

[imperfectrotting]

Being stuck under the bed - NSFW

Characters: Mike, Norton, Naib, Luca, Victor and Andrew.

Contains: Suggestive Themes

Mike Morton

He knocks on your door at a rapid pace before barging in, calling out your name in a singing voice. He's confused when he doesn't immediately find you sitting on your bed. Rather, he finds your legs and behind sticking out underneath the bed. He approaches you with a twirl, and you don't even need to see his face to know that he's smirking. "Oh my, oh my! This is quite a surprising sight to stumble upon! Though i don't know if i do want to help you.." his voice wanders off as he stares at your wiggling ass, trying to get out.

He kneels down and grabs one cheek of your ass with one hand, while placing his other on your back, tracing the tips of his fingers to the rim of your pants, taking them off teasingly slow. "I'll take this as a reward for all the hard work that i've put into my shows, darling~" As his voice drops, with a husky tone in your ear, you know just what kind of trouble awaits you.

Norton Campbell

He knocks two times before entering your room. His eyes scan around the room for you, to have no luck. He's about to turn around and close the door when he hears some odd shuffling sound. His eyes turn towards your bed, where he finds you stuck. "Norton, is that you? Can you please help me out?" He walks towards you and looms over your figure, debating on what he should do.

He thinks back to the previous matches, where you absolutely teased the hell out of him, and led the hunter to him so he couldn't do anything to you during the match. But now it seems that luck isn't on your side anymore.

"Norton, why did you unzip your pants!? Norton!!?"

Naib Subedar

Naib quietly entered your room, expecting for you to be asleep, but instead he saw your ass sticking out from underneath the bed. He first let out a confused sigh before kneeling down, the slight blush on his face luckily not being visible in the dark.

"You.. how did you even.." he said quietly, his voice barely audible as a whisper. "Well.. what if i said i was stuck like this on purpose, just for you?" Something switched in his brain when he heard the flirty tone in your voice. You could hear his breathing get slightly heavier as he continued to stare at your behind.

He spread both of your legs slightly, kissing your inner thigh. You muffled your moan, not wanting to possibly wake the other survivors up.

Victor Grantz

After not hearing your usual response when he knocked, he got worried. He put his ear to the door, hoping to at least hear that you were alright. He heard some shuffling inside, so that reassured him that you at least were okay. Though maybe you did not hear him knock?

He twisted the door knob and quietly shut the door behind him. He instantly spotted half of your body sticking out from under your bed. He let out audible worried noises, as he kneeled down and looked around how to safely get you out from your bed.

"Victor, love.. could you please get my out of here?" The blonde boy wrapped his hands around your waist carefully, deciding that he must have imagined the flirty tone in your voice. With his body now behind yours, pressed against your ass he blushed. His mind was not helping him at all at the moment. But the moment you audibly moaned when he tried to pull you out of the bed, with his crotch against your ass, he suddenly got the hint that this was intentional.

His blush worsened, but this time he changed his grip to instead hold your hips. After all, didn't you want this boldness from the mute postman?

Luca Balsa

"Hey love, check this out!" He barged into your room with a box full of mechanical parts he had gathered. He ranted about what his next invention was going to be, when you interrupted him. "That does sound nice and all, but could you help me out first?" The wiggle you did when you finished the question made Luca's face red. He always admired your body, being very handsy when you allowed him to be. "A.. ah.. don't worry! I'll get you.. out.. of there, yeah.. ye .. yeah.. !" You smirked, knowing that the compromising position you made yourself stuck in, made Luca's mind rattle full with lustful thoughts.

The prisoner coudn't decide what to do next, he really did want to help you, but on the other hand it didn't sound like you truly did need help, plus you got into that position just for him, he was sure if it. He approached you with a grin, his hands quickly resting on your ass. You could feel him tremble from excitement, as he groped your as eagerly, pressing his body against it.

"Did you read my mind? Because i could use some stress relief"

Andrew Kreiss

You two were hanging out in your room, reading books. With him attempting to read your books. He was very thankful that you went out of your way to teach him how to read. His mind was always full of you, and thinking how he could ever succesfully express the love he held for you.

You put your book aside, a new idea popping inside of your head. You kneeled down and shuffled under your bed, pushing your body as far as you could, with your ass still sticking out. "Oh Andrew dear, could you help me out? It seems i'm stuck!"

He looked up from the book to look at you wiggling your ass at him in a seductive manner. Though he didn't understand your true intentions, and panicked when he saw that you were stuck. "O.. oh heavens! How did this happen? I.. i'm so sorry! I'll find help..!"

You had to stop him from panicking, not wanting another survivor to get you out of this predicement you got yourself into. "Andrew, i did this on purpose, you know? Because i know you sneak glances at me when you think i'm not looking" The way you taunted him made his entire face turn red, as he stood still like he got caught in the middle of a crime. He stuttered, trying to come up with a possible explanation, but he couldn't.

He loved you so much, and he felt embarrassed. You even knew about him sneaking glances at you like a pervert. Is that why you got into such a position, just for him..?

[identityua]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

BAKING WITH IDV CHARACTERS

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PAIRINGS: Norton Campbell, Luca Balsa, Victor Grantz & Melly Plinius x GN! Reader (separately)

WARNINGS: Mentions of Norton going through stuff in his lore, Luca’s “fun” time in prison... that's about it.

Send in requests and submissions, It gets boring during breaks in uni:,)

N. CAMPBELL

As seen from the breakfast scene with a rightfully baffled Journalist -- whole grain bread for him is a delicacy. Safe to assume Norton is not just a peasant, he is dirt poor. So poor in fact, he wouldn't be able to afford a popular at the time drink called "Saloop" not even with a tea bag found in the trash pile. That drink can be made even by street beggars, by the way.

Keeping that in mind there is no way he knows how to go about it and what to do. Cooking? That's a different topic. Norton had to take care of his sick family while breaking his back with exploitative labour in the mines. He's got the emergency level of skill for preparing a stew.

Despite the era-specific sexism, he wouldn't be the one for writing kitchen-related work off as "not a man's job". He may be insecure but Norton is not a jerk... at least not in that way. That said, baking is definitely something he sees as an activity for the privileged. Read as anyone with a spare penny in their pocket.

Don't overwhelm him with something fancy like a cheesecake or lord forbid a croquembouche. He wants to experience the rich lifestyle, for sure, but imagine introducing sugar so early on to his virgin taste buds... not a good outcome. Bread might be a good place to start.

Say, one day you approach Norton with a wonderful proposal to bake something together. "What a wonderful bonding experience for couples!" you might think, leading him by the hand into the manor's well equipped kitchen.

Wrong.

For some incomprehensible reason (trying to impress you and compensate for his inferiority complex) Norton all of a sudden decided he is Gordon Ramsay. With a whisk in hand (holding it upside down) and a determined look, he goes into battle. He doesn't need help, Norton never needs help. He is a provider, he's strong, what's a little baking to him?

Reassure this man for the mental health of all the kitchen staff to put the eggs down and to let you help out. He might scoff, argue, complain -- don't take it personally. Norton is a complicated guy though I am sure you know that by now. He does too. Emotional intelligence is not really in the cards here (try to develop some by breathing in coal dust since you were a kid) so he can’t put a finger why he is so upset.

He wants to be vulnerable with you, sure, but there is a blockage. Call it disorganised attachment, inability to regulate emotions, trust issues – whatever it is, it is there. Norton knows he is an inadequate partner and is set on the idea that you deserve better. You’ll need an immense amount of patience even with small tasks like these (hey, you chose this battle not me), however the reward is worth it. A glimpse into a playful man you fell in love with – who smears flour on your nose while you are distracted.

Now, Norton wholeheartedly believes he is someone for tough love. Kisses, hugs, cuddles – that’s all for the “sleazy gentlemen” not a seasoned miner like him. Don’t remind him of the way he curls up by your side like a cat with the mirthiest of grins the moment It’s lights-out in the manor. Norton’s got a reputation to uphold. He tries to convince himself of that by not really providing much closeness during your baking session, other than an occasional ruffle of your hair or a shoulder bump.

Oh how quickly things change If someone else walks in. Anyone is a rival in his eyes. Your friend wanted to greet you and give you a sweet hug? Excuse him, your man’s got a sudden velcro strap attached between you and him. One of the most jealous people on Earth because of his insecurities, so he feels the immediate need to establish his dominance here. How? Nasty glances in the intruder’s direction and pulling you into an impromptu make out session. That’s how he saw his coworkers treat their partners so he assumes this must be the way.

Maybe set some boundaries about that. Or not. I don’t know what you are into…

It might take longer than usual (your lips might be bruise as well) but the two of you will end up baking a nice, fluffy loaf of bread. He will claim that “Of course It’s great, I made it after all!” but somewhere deep inside his chest is squeezing with affection. Norton is not stupid, he can read between the lines and figure out that you know of his weaknesses. Usually, that thought would keep him up at night and gnaw at him until he pushed you far away. So far you would never see him the same way those “coworkers” did when beating the money out of his clenched fists.

However doing something so simple and new with you without judgement – It’s about the only kind of love he can stomach. Pun intended. He’ll eat like half of the bread with no bev, please make sure he doesn’t choke.

L. BALSA

My knowledge of him is minimal but I’ll take a crack at this.

Unlike Campbell, this one grew up in wealth. Fancy balls with those puffy gowns and tuxedos, golden leafed ice cream, all the lovely things that come from an obscene amount of pretty banknotes. You’d think your sweet Luca would surely know how to make some scones? Now why would you ever think that. Of course he doesn’t.

Three causes: he never lifted a finger to cook for himself, he is a man in the Renaissance period(I think) and he simply forgot how to. Memory loss does that. The triple knockout to your proposition. No, thank you, Balsa would rather stick to his inventions. After all, he is utterly and completely obsessed with the technology he builds.

At times like this, you start to think he doesn’t truly care for you at all. What’s the point of trying If some metal bits come before you? Stop, take a breath, and reconsider. Remember the times he would writhe on your shared bed in agony due to his traumatic brain injury. Recall the way Luca would grasp onto you in these vulnerable moments. Just think, would he show the weakest side of himself to you If there wasn’t a deep connection between the two of you?

Unfortunately, you cannot expect a “normal” relationship with this guy. But again, you did sign up for this. So, expect him not to even acknowledge you for the first time you ask to bake together. He is completely entranced with the wires in front of him, fixated on the electricity currents. Sure, Luca will be grumpy when you interrupt his “flow” to ask again but truthfully – It is hard for Balsa to stay mad at you. He will reject like I said beforehand, however here’s the twist.

This little genius will never reject the notion of spending time with you. His love language may be physical touch, words of affirmation, but quality time takes the cake. Pun intended. After spending so much time wrongfully (?) imprisoned, he craves human connection. Human connection that doesn’t involve him being tortured by either the guards or other inmates. Balsa is also terrified of betrayal so he wants to be beside you 24/7. Just in case.

Being at the manor is stressful and traumatic for all participants, so his coping mechanism is to drown in work. Forgive him for that, Luca loves you for all you do and your unwavering support. Therefore, he will propose a diplomatic compromise. You get to bake while he sits at the kitchen table and tinkers with some new device. Deal?

Go ahead and mix the ingridients with your leg propped over his, Luca will appreciate it wholeheartedly. Unfortunately no holding hands before marriage, or simply because it would get in the way of his and your working space. Sure, maybe you don’t get to cuddle by the stove like they do in romantic novellas. But isn’t this so much better, because it is uniquely your lover?

While the pastries bake take a moment to cradle the side of the “Prisoner’s” face in your flour-powered hand. Gently run your thumb over his cheekbone. He will subconsciously lean into your touch without missing a beat. That is just how much Luca Balsa trusts you – his partner. After everything he’s gone through It’s an indicator as bright as a red stop light of the depth of this inventor’s feelings. He doesn’t exactly state it out loud in favour of letting you know that “everyone wants a piece of this handsome genius”. However, It’s obvious to anyone else that you are his sole anchor and reason to live.

You remind him to eat, take a breather, bring him relaxing tea just the way he likes it. You ground him when Luca’s hands shake from the painful memories of the past, you hold him, you console him. In return? He will keep on working, playing this hellish game and at a whim will relocate all of his heavy equipment across the manor to the kitchen – If it means you are happy. Balsa is a dreamer, and he dreams of a future where you are together in your own house, baking in the kitchen with all the fancy equipment you might ever need. Made by him, of course.

Over freshly baked sweets and a cup of tea, your lover will share all of his ambitious ideas running through his mind. He will also take note of the taste in his mouth and urge you to write down the recipe on some paper for him. Why, you might ask? A reminder of the future he wants to build with you to keep in a diary, since it has proven to be much more reliable than his own mind. Luca is dedicated to you just as much as he is to scientific discoveries after all.

V. GRANTZ

Holy yap incoming! This one is my favourite man from the survivor faction.

Can Victor cook? Silly question. Having spent most of his adolescence without much parental support or much human contact – he is highly independent. The Postman is responsible to a T, capable of performing all the housework necessary for survival. Can your lover bake? That’s a different topic in Its entirety.

From his deduction letter It is known that he shares his meals with Wick. Therefore, Victor’s food must be something that a dog can digest. Carbs and starchy foods are not ideal for his little carnivorous friend which leads us to the conclusion that baking is not your partner’s forte.

Out of all characters in this post – he is the hardest to get through to. Come on, Victor is as talkative as a wooden plank. You thought Norton was avoidant? Think again, mister postman here will fight tooth and nail to keep people away from him. So, what happens when you through sheer patience and understanding manage to become his friend? And later on, Victor’s partner? He will never say no to you.

Bake together? For the love of everything, Victor would run into a burning building after you. That’s just who he is – utterly self sacrificing and endlessly brave. The point is, it doesn’t matter what Grantz was doing before you approached him with the wonderful proposition to bake. He will drop everything and promptly nod, following you with Wick at his heel to the kitchen.

Choose a recipe that is dog-friendly beforehand. It would make both of your boys happy. Did I mention that you became Wick’s co-parent the moment his human friend opened up his heart to you? Now you know.

Make sure to properly compliment your postman every time he does something well, like mixing the wet ingredients together at just the perfect speed. Watch as warmth blossoms across his face and your partner faintly nods, muttering a “thank you” with the brightest of smiles. His love language is without a doubt words of affirmation, considering how much linguistics matter to him.

With anyone else, he would take face-to-face conversations with a massive brick of salt. Victor doesn’t trust people not to conceal their intentions, only ever being truthful in letters. With you, It’s different. He knows your pattern of speech does not differ from your writing abilities. You wouldn’t lie to your love, would you? So Grantz has no reason to doubt your praises even If he feels undeserving of them.

Much more playful than others in the manor give him credit for. Victor is not “shy” he is simply reserved and prefers to keep to himself unless in trusted company. He literally voices his dog’s side of the “conversation” don’t be quick to assume your partner can’t have fun. Prepare for harmless tickles and nose flicks, this guy is sweeter than the pastries you two are preparing.

Unfortunately this vulnerability is only available for you to see. The moment someone else enters the kitchen, Victor is social distancing and keeping his eyes down on the baking tray. He’ll let you handle the talking part, occasionally sharing looks with Wick as If saying “Can you believe this?”. He’ll get a “woof” in response from his four-legged friend, which is up to interpretation.

Don’t let your gaze linger a beat too long on the person (without reassuring Victor afterwards) otherwise his train of thought is actively de-railing. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, of course not, your sweet postman just… thinks you can do better than him. So many options out there for someone as wonderful as you, why stick around him? That’s it, time for Grantz to overthink.

In no way would he pull you away from the conversation, at least not the same way Norton would. As your lover, he respects your decisions and relationships. Just don’t mind the slow slide towards your side of the table and the hand lingering over your fingertips. Squeeze his hand back, and we’re all good, you can carry on.

Regardless of whether someone interrupts your baking session or not, It is an incredibly enjoyable experience. The recipe will be followed to a T, you can count on your partner to take on that responsibility. If you pay close attention, you’ll notice how Victor attempts to plate the “worst” ones for himself. The pastries with uneven edges or a burnt bottom cannot be offered to you in his good conscience.

Make sure those are evenly split between the two of you, feeding your protesting lover a perfectly done piece. The postman will be so flustered at the gesture of you feeding him in public, he’ll forget completely what he was protesting about in the first place.

M. PLINIUS

This one right here. She is the perfect choice for baking together. I don’t know how you managed to bag someone as incredible as Melly but props to you.

Having grown up in poverty and later on married into wealth, she knows how to do it all. Cooking, cleaning, reading, baking – you name it, Miss Melly can probably do it. She has a slight preference for sweets as well, considering her breakfast choices and the fact that she keeps bees. Entomology is quite rewarding when you get to snack on honey from your test subjects.

I imagine It’s quite easy to find your lover busying herself in the manor’s greenhouse, slouched over another specimen of… whatever she is studying. Your proposal brings an immediate quirk to her lips which curl upwards in sheer delight. Melly is quick to offer some freshly collected honey as a healthier alternative to sugar. Of course, your heath is her priority, but getting to show off the efforts of her bees is a nice bonus.

She doesn’t necessarily rush to the oven though, unlike a certain postman… no. Melly has to finish up her tasks and tidy her working space first. Offer some help to make the time go by faster! She’ll be appreciative of your thoughtfulness and follow you to the kitchen – elbows interlocked.

Record-fast preparation for your batch of goods. She’s efficient, adaptable and co-operates well with your actions. Out of everyone mentioned in this post, a relationship with her is the healthiest – and it shows. You two are in-sync with each other, practically gliding across the kitchen like two swans on a pond’s surface. You do know swans bond for life, right?

Miss Entomologist is the epitome of elegance in everything: from thoughtfully brushing your hair out of the way – to whisking the egg whites to reach a perfect fluffy consistency. It’s not hard to tell how much she adores you, her love, her little bug. While reserved, she does not shy away from showcasing affection towards you. Expect the unexpected wrap of her arms around your waist as she whispers compliments through her veil. Don’t spill the batter now!

Quality time and acts of service are her strong suit when it comes to loving, so baking is the perfect way to showcase affection. She is understandably disappointed If someone was to interrupt your bonding time and snatch you away for a chat. It’s hard to notice, but you know her – the slightest tug of her lips downwards. You can only guess the look in her eyes under that veil, that only you ever get to see. Those are the fruits of Melly’s trust you get to reap.

Don’t take it the wrong way, she isn’t jealous in the slightest of your interaction. No, this lady is secure in her attachment and her trust in her lover. Does she appreciate that you cannot decorate the scones along with her because someone was itching to talk? That’s a different question.

If this certain someone was taking way too long than appropriate, then, she would gracefully insert herself in the conversation and ask them to leave. Politely, of course. This woman has a way with words and it is attractive to no end.

Once the delicious treat is served, settle into the secluded garden chairs along with her and a cup of steaming tea. She would spot a butterfly on top of a chrysanthemum and erupt into a passionate rant about this specific one’s traits. The lifespan, the importance to the environment. Please, make sure you listen carefully to this monologue. In moments like these your lover’s soul is bare to the touch. Handle it well.

Melly conceals her face specifically because she wants to be perceived for her intelligence – not her (stunning) appearance. However here, in the manor’s garden along with her most precious beloved, a honeyed scone in hand… it is no grave matter If her veils is lifted by the wind. She won’t rush to pin it down. Instead, you will get to see a sight reserved only for you – Melly’s affectionate eyes. Crinkled at the corners in a sincere smile, a smile that should be appreciated with the earnest of kisses from you.

Not really proofread! If you spot mistakes… oh well.

[totallynotpochacco]

Hi! This is abit more of a darker/triggering ask so if it makes you uncomfortable thats 100% ok and u can skip this! but i was wondering if you could write antonio (idv) comfort fic with a reader whos struggling with sh or trya recover from it Please! Have a good day/night! ♡

“The knife isn’t always the best option.”

Contains; Self harm; bullying, comfort, sensitive topics; Antonio; Naib; Norton; Alva; and Victor;

Alva's can be platonic or romantic.

Key; Anima mia=my soul

You were doing so well, but bottled up emotions shatter easily during stressful times. When your loving boyfriend realizes you’ve started again, he’s heartbroken yet nonetheless supportive.

Antonio

He would refuse to leave your side after it comes to light that you’re hurting yourself again.

He loves you a lot and losing you is out of the question.

Antonio knows exactly what to do in these situations, since I feel like he’s either gone through this before on his own or with someone else.

Antonio had you in his arms while sobbed on the floor. A discarded knife tinged red and a clear reminder of your failures.

“It’s alright, Anima mia. You’re not alone, and you’re not in trouble. I’ve got you, everything will be okay. This will pass.” He reassured you, making small circles on your back, and gently kissing your head.

His words only made you cry harder, you wanted to stop feeling guilty. You just wanted to stop letting him find you this way.

Maybe if weren’t such a disappointment you’d be able to do the simplest thing.

Antonio knew what was probably going through your head at that moment and smiled, “Do you know how proud I am of you? My love, you never fail to impress me. I look up to you in some aspects, and you give me a reason to wake up in the morning. It’s a feat very few can achieve. Let me take care of you for tonight at the very least, I’ll grab us dinner and run us a bath. How does that sound?”

You nodded and turned your head away from the blade that just seemed to taunt you. Instead opting for staring at his shirt in shame.

Naib

He keeps a close eye on you 24/7

You’re always being monitored, even if it’s extremely subtle or obvious.

You’re the main reason why he wakes up in the morning.

Naib refuses to lose you.

“Put.. Put the knife down,___” naib carefully inched towards you like you were a wounded animal. He didn’t want to startle you and make the situation worse.

The knife shook in your unsteady hands, as you fought to make a decision, but ultimately dropped it anyways. Letting it clatter to the floor.

He quickly rushed to your side after it dropped, checking for any injuries. When he didn’t find any, Naib brushed some hair out of your face, resting his forehead against yours. “You can’t keep scaring me like this. What happens if you do go through with it? You’d really leave me all alone?”

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, at least you were being honest.

Norton

He already worry’s about you, probably more than he should, so this is just adding on.

He makes sure you share a room after the first time he witnesses one of your breakdowns.

It’s not that he believes you can’t take care of yourself, he just doesn’t want you to burn yourself out.

At night he’ll always wait for you to sleep first, and he watches you fondly or sadly, depending what occurred that day.

Norton and you had a rough day. It started with shitty matches, then rude teammates, and then a small argument between yourselves.

The reminder of it made him sigh. Finally after confirming you fell asleep he’d shift to spoon you. Taking his hand to gently run up and down your arms, being mindful of the scars that he learned to love.

“If only you knew how much I need you in my life, ___. I’m not good with words, but fuck, I love you so much.” He whispered to you, placing a kiss on the back of your head.

Alva

He’s more in tune with your emotions than yourself.

He understands that things can get hard, and doesn’t let it define you.

He wants to see you flourish, he is a mentor after all.

Alva will stay up with you until you fall asleep in case you’re afraid you might do something you’ll regret.

He also doesn’t mind cleaning your wounds, of course it makes him sad, devastated really, but it’s you, and he’d do anything for you.

Romantic;

Alva kisses away your tears, as he reassures you, your loved.

He makes sure that you bathed, and washes your hair for you.

He’ll hold you at night as well, letting you hide in his chest.

“It’s alright my dear, I’ve cleaned up all the blood, you can look now.” Alva says, and you finally open your teary eyes. Seeing him bandage up the last bit of your legs.

“Next time you feel this urge, or even feel upset, come find me. My door is always open to you.” It comes out firm but gentle, like he genuinely cares. Something no one has showed in this awful place a lot.

Your about to open your mouth but he shuts it down, knowing what your about to say, “No, you are not a bother, No I don’t care how late it is, and yes I do care about you. I love you, and it pains me to see you like this.”

“Alva, I can’t do this to you what happens if-”

“Then we’ll figure it out together. You and me.”

Victor

He cried the first time you came too his door bleeding.

Wick was right there next to you both nudging at your leg as he bandaged your stomach.

He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he could lose you either from the games or by your own hands.

It pained him deeply when he find used razor blades in your trashcan or a hidden knife under your bed.

He wrote you a letter a couple times begging you to talk to him.

Pouring his heart out to you that he needs you and loves you deeply.

On occasion Victor would knock on your door late at night wondering if he could sleep with you when his paranoia got too much.

A knock; then two more.

It was around 11pm and Victor had shown up again holding his pillow in one arm and wick in the other.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” You said lowly, since other people lived on your floor too.

He nodded and walked inside, setting wick down on the end of the bed.

“Do.. you mind if you hold me? I miss you, and I’m scared.” It was barely audible but you heard it. He could talk, sometimes, only when he felt it was necessary. So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when he said this.

“Yeah, come on.” You ushered him to get into bed. Slipping in next to him and letting his head rest on your chest.

You felt his shaky and nervous fingers trace patterns over your scars. Delicately memorizing each and every one.

You didn’t mind, because you trusted him.

But deep down, it hurt you inside that you were causing him this pain. This worry.

I finally did it! I posted.

I’m hoping to post more soon

[funkynumaki]

Identity V fingering headcanon (PT.1 (?))

Characters included; Luca Balsa, Andrew Kreiss, Mike Morton, Victor Grantz

A/N: this is my first post + my first time writing smut so I apologize if it's not the best!

Warning: fingering (g), praise (r, g), dacryphilia on Andrew and Victor's!, dom!reader x sub!characters

_________________________________________

|| Luca Balsa

- when you first brought it up he'd be surprise, but he's thrilled to try it out.

- the first time, he'd fidget a lot trying to get used to the feeling of your fingers inside him but when he's comfortable enough he's really into it.

- he wouldn't even hide his noises, it really shows how much he enjoys it.

- "are you sure you're okay with this?" You ask, still a bit uncertain. Giving him a chance to back down if he's uncomfortable with it. But, instead Luca nod looking at your lube covered fingers as it line itself on his hole. ".. Yeah.. Go on" He said, already out of breath. You nod at his approval, your finger find themselves sliding inside his hole. You could almost immediately feel him clench around you as his grip tightened. "F-fuck-..." He let out a small moan at the feeling trying to get used to it. He leaned his head to the crook of your neck, his dick throb at the sensation of being filled by your fingers. "Did it hurt?" You ask, willingly to stop if the pain is unbearable for him. Your fingers stopping their movement inside him. "Yeah.. A bit.. Don't stop. Please.." He whine when he feel your movement stopping inside him which followed by your smile of relief that you didn't hurt him. Your fingers pick up its pace again with each passing second he grow more and more comfortable with having your fingers inside of him. Starting to let out louder breathy moan as he lean in to get more contact with you.

"O-ohh fuck-! Please.. S'fuckin-good-..!"

|| Andrew Kreiss

- would be very hesitant, so getting him comfortable enough to agree will need a trustful relationship.

- he's so sensitive, he has no experience with any intimate moment so it's best if you start slow with him.

- the first time he feel your finger inside him, he's already shaking from pleasure. Moaning and whimpering your name while at the same time trying to covered his mouth to prevent himself from making noise.

- "a-ahh... Ple-ase-.." He whine as your finger continues to thrust in and out of his hole. Your movement is still slow and gentle, as he hide his face on the crook of your neck. Trying to mask the noises that's about to fall from his lips. "Please what, love? I want to hear you say it.." You cooe in his ear, your tone can be heard as a need for him to just tell you his desire that he's been trying to mask. Andrew's dick twitch as he feel your finger slowly starting to thrust a bit faster. "I- need y-you.. Please... Ne-need you s'bad..!" He begged feeling you fasting up your movement. His head fall back as he let out a soft cry. "Does it make you feel good, love?" You smirk feeling him clench around your fingers not wanting to lose contact to it. "Use your words" You whisper in his ear, reminding him.

"Y-yes... Love it-love it s'much--! Please... I-i need it-"

|| Mike Morton

- he was actually the one who brought it up, mostly because he had been edging in his seat to ask you to try it with him since forever. Which of course, you agree.

- feeling your finger inside him, he'd let out a choked moan. He was expecting it to feel good, but not this good.

- would buck his hips to get more sensation of your finger inside him.

- "oh shit..-" Mike let out a choked moan as he throw his head back, your finger sliding in and out of his hole in a faster pace than before. "You enjoy this way more than I expect you to" You whisper in his ear, loving his reaction. Mike mosn loud as he lean in closer to you, his teeth sinking on your skin. His body shake from the pleasure. "S'good-! Fu.. Ck-! Please-please-!m-more-nh" He whine out, bucking his hips lower to get more friction from your finger, watching his desperate plead you chuckle. Mike lean in closer to you wrapping his hand around your shoulder as he nip your neck. His mind too clouded to form an actual sentence. You smile fasting up your pace, your finger brushing against his prostate "Beg more then, love" You cooe softly.

"Please-pl-ngh-ease.. -! Want you s'bad--! S'good-..!a-ahh--"

|| Victor Grantz

- he was surprised when you ask him to try it, but there's almost nothing Victor wouldn't do for you.

- he's eager to please you, so when you decide to change up a notch and please him he was taken a back, but he'll do it as long as it makes you happy.

- he wasn't expecting what he just feel being fingered by you, the way his mind starts to get numb. And how it felt so good he can't even registered it for a moment.

- "aww.. Look at how adorable you are like that, f'me?" You cooe, trailing kisses on Victor's neck to his collarbone. If it was possible, there would be small hearts flying on top of his head, he was at pure bliss. "S'good... I-ilove-yo-mu.. Ahh--! Ch!" He cries out, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as your finger thrust deeper. "Be a good boy for me and tell me how much I'm pleasing you, right now, why don't'cha?" You grin, nipping on his neck, leaving some love marks on his neck. His head thrown back, as he arch his back when your finger brush against his prostate. "S'good.. Please-- L-love.. You-so mu-angh--!" You chuckle at his attempt at forming a sentence. Teasing him even more you lean in closer to his ear. "What's that? I don't bear you the first time, love"

"Ple-ahh-! It's s'good.. -you're s'good--! I-loveyou.. so-mahh-uch...--!"

____________________________________

request are open!

[meowordeath]

The ‘orange peel’ theory! :3

w / Eli Clark , Aesop Carl , Victor Grantz & Naib Subedar !

A/N : this is a short little scenario! and I don't know if anyone has done this already.

Warnings - none ?

Eli Clark <3

You and him are relaxing at the starting table waiting for the hunter to arrive so the match can start. You had asked the small patroller to bring you a small piece of fruit. It had brought you back an orange.

Eli watched you stare at the orange for a moment to before speaking. “Would you like me to peel that for you my love?” His tone was soft, honestly making you melt at his offer.

“Yes please, if you wouldn’t mind. I don’t really want to have sticky hands before the match.” You saying handing over the orange happily.

He does an okay job peeling the orange. It has a few scratch marks on the slices themself, but overall your thankful you dont have orange peel stuck in your nails or juice staining your hands. You’d definitely ask him again.

“Thank you!” You say plucking the fruit from his hands, even giving him a few slices.

Aesop Carl

He was in the middle of doing nothing, maybe messing around with his coffin doll a little dressing it up and stuff, but he quickly dropped what he was doing to attend to you.

You greet him loveingly as you quickly approaching him, orange in hand. He put his tools down turning toward you. “Could you peel this orange for me please” You give him a big smile holding it out.

He raises his eyebrow slightly in confusion. “Well, yes I guess I can, but why don’t you want to?” Though he asks he still takes the orange from your hands.

“Well you know, I just don't want orange all over my hands, and it a win cause I get to see my lovely boyfriend” His face an ears turn slightly red. “Ah, I see.”

Aesop doesn’t peel the orange with his hands through he turns around grabbing his scalpel and just cuts the peel off in a cute swirl.

It would've been even cuter if he hadn't cut off most of the edible part as well. You think next time you’d have better luck just peeling it yourself.

“Uh, thank you!” You take the orange from him kissing beside his eye before taking off. He shakes his head as you disappear as fast as you’d appeared.

Victor Grantz

Victor was in the middle of writing a letter when you put your orange down beside his letter. “Victor, may you please be a dear and peel this orange for me!”

You said it so nicely and who is he to decline such a polite request from you. He smiles at you as he picks up your orange with a nod.

The way he peels the orange is perfect. He didn’t accidentally puncture it with his nails and manage to remove most of that yucky white part.

He even pulls apart the slices for you, putting them in a heart as he pulled them apart. You’d definitely come to him again if you needed any fruit peeled.

Kissing his on cheek you take half of them leaving the rest for him. “I’ll let you have half since you're working hard”

Naib Subedar

“Naib-” You don't actually get to finish before he takes the fruit out of your hand. “Thank you.” He says graciously, at least so you think, before taking a bite out of the orange, rind and all.

You sputter, eye twitching as you stare at him munch on your orange. “That-” He cuts you off again thinking your going to comment on him eating the rind.

“It has more nutrients if you eat the outer part as well.” his mouth is full and he respond. The juice of your orange dripping down his chin.

You stare as him as he finishes off your orange. He has the audacity to thank you and kiss you not even before wiping his face.

You don't ever ask Naib to peel nor cut fruit for you again.

Not proof read! So sorry if there are errors :3

[eliasmelody]

Silent Struggles, Steady Hands

Tag: Victor x gn!reader, Frederick x gn!reader, Luchino (survivor) x gn!reader

WARNING: grammar & spelling, injury, trauma, panic attack, hurt/comfort, low self-esteem

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Postman - Victor Grantz

You try to ignore the pain, forcing yourself to focus on decoding, but it’s so hard. The pressure mounts, and with every failed attempt, the fear of disappointing your teammates grows. 

A small sound of barking breaks through the tension. 

You glance down and see Wick, the adorable dog of your friend, standing there with the letter in her mouth. It must be for the decoding boost. 

A sad smile forms on your face as you reach down to pat the dog’s head. She nudges the letter toward you, urging you to take it, but you shake your head gently. 

Pushing it gently with your leg, the dog looks up at you with confusion, sensing the heaviness on your face. She hesitates for a moment before trotting away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You try to go back to decoding. Each attempt feels like you're sinking deeper, and the weight of not being able to keep up with everyone else makes it harder to focus. 

The cipher blurs in front of you as your thoughts race, and for a moment. You clamp your mouth shut, fighting the wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm you.

You hear the sound of barking again, distant at first but growing louder with each passing second.

Victor's little dog comes back, trotting toward you with surprising determination. The letter, still intact, is gripped firmly in her tiny mouth, but this time, there's something more, a small bundle of flowers, their delicate petals bright against the dullness of the surroundings. The dog’s tail wags excitedly as she approaches, as if proud of her owner offering.

A smile tugs at your lips, despite the weight of everything pressing down on you. You reach down, gently taking the flowers from the dog’s mouth, feeling their softness and the subtle warmth of the gesture. 

But the letter… no, that remains untouched. You hesitate for a moment, your fingers brushing against the cool paper before pulling back. Insecure rock high, teetering on the edge, constantly questioning its stability.

"I... I'm thankful, but this should be sent to someone more useful than me."

The little dog doesn't seem content with your words, her tail wagging again as if trying to understand. She turns back the way she came.

The moment of distraction has passed, and you can feel the urgency creeping back in. 

The cipher is now 70 percent complete. Every second counts. You can feel the weight of the clock ticking, your teammates are on their last chair, their trust in you hanging by a thread.

The panic starts creeping in again. You want to finish it, you need to finish it, but the pressure, the fear, the nagging feeling–

Bark.

You sigh, your patience worn thin, and turn toward the source of the noise. But then, you freeze. Standing beside the dog is its owner.

He smiles warmly at you, his presence almost immediately calming the frantic energy swirling inside your chest. 

"Victor..." You murmur, caught off guard by the unexpected but welcome sight of him. 

Without a word, he steps closer to the cipher, his fingers gently brushing over the lines you’ve been working on. His movements are steady and sure, a quiet reassurance that things will be okay. With each adjustment, the cipher seems less daunting, and the tension in your body eases, the shock of earlier no longer making your muscles tense.

Victor stops for a moment, rummaging through his pocket. He pulls out a folded letter and turns toward you, offering it with a soft smile.

You stare at the letter for a moment, a lump forming in your throat. You had almost forgotten about it, buried under the weight of everything else. The same letter the dog had brought, the one you’d turned away not one but two times. 

But now, with Victor standing there, his calm presence offering a sense of quiet reassurance, you realize this might be the moment to take some kindness for yourself.

Third time’s the charm, as people always say. He’ll always find a way to deliver his message, with his heart on the line.

Composor - Frederick Kreiburg

In the middle of your musings, you notice that Frederick is staring at you with a slightly perplexed look.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked, his voice filled with concern. "You seem.... distracted." he paused, eyeing you up and down.

You nod slowly, your head trembling slightly.

"I'm fine. Let's just focus on decoding…" 

You fail the calibration once more, a frustrated groan slipping from your lips. The adrenaline that had been coursing through you earlier, keeping you sharp and alert, begins to fade. The lingering effects of the chase are slowly draining away, leaving you with nothing but exhaustion. 

He took a step closer, his eyes now fixed on you, his expression a mixture of concern and contemplation. "You're hurt.." His eyes flickering over the fresh wounds.

"I said I'm fine—" You snap, but another failed calibration hits. A jolt of electricity from the cipher shakes your fingers, and you grit your teeth, desperate to push through the frustration.

He steps in smoothly, gently swatting your hand away from the cipher. "You're doing it wrong."

You frown at him, your expression hardening as a rush of frustration and old pain bubbles up. 

"Wrong?!" You snap, the words sharp and edged with disbelief. "How can it be wrong? I’m following the steps!"

Frederick rolls his eyes at your exasperated outburst, his expression bordering on annoyance. "Yes, wrong." 

He takes a step closer, his eyes fixed on the cipher as he examines it, his gaze sharp and precise. 

"Too much pressure, too much force." He mutters under his breath, his voice low and calm despite your snapping.

You roll your eyes, the sarcasm dripping from your tone. "You expect people to decode gently and pretty when we're being chased?!" You snap, the words sharp and frustrated.

Frederick's gaze turns to you, his expression hardening at your defiant response. 

"No, I expect you to do it efficiently and effectively, not fumble like a panicked and reckless fool." He retorted, his words sharp and biting.

Before you can snap back, he presses a key to demonstrate. "See this? You're choosing the wrong key. If you don't time it right, you’ll get shocked." 

With a couple of quick presses, he fixes it, making the system run smoothly again.You watch, dumbfounded as he presses a key effortlessly, his fingers deftly working the machine. 

"Now you try."

With a begrudging huff, you focus your attention on the machine, trying to mimic his movements with your own trembling hand.

"Too much hesitation" He critiques, his voice calm and steady. "Be more confident in your movements."

After a moment, he leans in closer, his eyes locking onto your trembling hand. 

"Confidence comes from practice and repetition." 

He takes your trembling hand in his, surprisingly gently despite his cold demeanor. With a firm touch, he guides it to the key, showing you the correct placement and pressure needed.

"Try again." He instructs, the authority in his tone brooking no argument.

You attempt to mimic his movements again, your hand now guided by his steady grip. He watches closely, observing every minor movement. His eyes scan over your trembling form to the wounds that litter your frame.

Eventually, you get the hang of it. The movements become smoother, more confident, and the cipher is almost prime now. A sense of contentment washes over you as you take a moment to look back at him.

"Much better." He remarks, his voice filled with a hint of approval. "Wait at the gate. I'll prime it." His eyes linger on you for a moment before he turns back to the cipher.

I should thank him later, you think to yourself as you run toward the gate. You can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for his steady presence, even if you’re too caught up in the moment to express it.

Your rhythm’s a tangled mess, but fortunately, as a composer, he knows just how to bring it back into harmony.

Professor - Luchino Diruse

You reach the cipher first, your body screaming in protest with every step. Every movement feels like a battle as you bend over the machine, the sharp, searing pain from your dislocated ankle making it almost impossible to focus.

The match has dragged on for far too long. With only two left, the air is thick with tension. But there’s still one more cipher to decode.

You’ve tried your best, pushing yourself to fight and find a way out, but the others don’t take it seriously. 

To them, it’s all a joke, lost to the madness of the game. No matter how many times you try to save them or cover for their mistakes, they keep messing around, laughing like there are no consequences. You’re fighting alone, and with every failed attempt, the weight on you grows heavier. 

You want to decode the cipher, you really do. But instead, you find yourself drawn to the corner of the small, cold house, your feet stumbling as you retreat into the shadows. 

The harsh noise of the match, the ticking of the cipher machine, all fade away into a muffled blur. You curl up against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around yourself.

Later on, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the small house. Luchino enters, his movements swift, the urgency in his eyes clear. The sight of you stops him in his tracks. 

You avert your gaze, feeling a pang of guilt. You know how much the survivors hate it when someone isn’t decoding or doing something useful. Bracing yourself, waiting for the inevitable harsh words.

The last thing you ever expected was for him to come closer, kneeling in front of you. The weight of his presence makes your breath catch in your throat. 

"Hey... are you alright?" His voice is warm, softer than you'd expect given the circumstances.

His hand reaches toward you, and instinctively, you flinch, but no pain comes. Hesitantly, you peek your eyes open to see him holding out one of his scales to you. 

"Here. You’re gonna need it for later." He says quietly, his voice low but steady. The words hang in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning.

He observes you for a while, his gaze softening as he takes in the quiet exhaustion in your eyes. "You tried your best." He says, the words gentle but carrying an unexpected weight.

The sudden warmth of his recognition breaks something inside you, and before you can stop it, tears start to spill from your eyes.

"I– I don't deserve–" The words break through your tears, but you can't finish the sentence.

"You’ve done enough, and you’ll make it through." He reassured, his words feel like a promise, though they hang heavy in the air.

He wipes away some of your tears, his touch surprisingly gentle. With a soft gesture, he signals for you to be quiet, his eyes scanning the room as if to remind you of the danger still lurking.

After you take the scale, he stands up and returns to the cipher. You watch him for a moment, sitting frozen in the corner, your body tense. Doesn't he know? Decoding the cipher will reveal both of your locations to the hunter.

The heavy sound of footsteps grows louder, each step echoing through the room. Your heart races, the fear tightening in your chest. The hunter is coming closer, and you watch Luchino, standing in position.

For a brief moment, he glances over his shoulder. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a strange, knowing expression in his eyes.

Ping: The dungeon is here!

You widen your eyes in confusion. At the back of the house? But for the dungeon to open, there must be one of you left. 

The hunter’s attention shifts immediately, chasing after him into the open. In the chaos, they don’t see you tucked in the corner.  A mixture of fear and gratitude rushes over you. You grip the scale tightly, an invisible shield form around you.

Trapped in this madness too long, genius and insanity have fused in his mind. Looking at you reminds him of his last humanity.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Art work: Identity Wiki ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

The ideas is awesome! ❤️ I hope you don't mind me changing the plot a little. I just wanna write some unique sight of how they would react in different circumstances other than just escorting us to the gate. This fic can both read as a slow burn romantic or platonic as you wish.

[turbulentscrawl]

Most-to-Least Protective: Survivor Guys

I had less time to write before work today, but some good inspo so I whipped up this example for the ranking requests I take! For this one I just used the ten who came to mind and who im probably most familiar with

This is meant in general terms, not just for in Matches. The primary situations I considered for this are heated arguments, physical altercations, and near-death experiences. The ranking considers their responses to these situations, as well as how strong their protective feelings are.

MOST 🔻

Naib would do just about anything in defense of a loved one. Argue, fight, kill, anything. It’s not like he hasn’t done it all before anyway. Naib refuses to lose anyone else, it’s not even an option to him. If someone tried to make it happen anyway? He’s enraged beyond giving his usual mercy of a quick death. He’s gonna make it hurt.

Andrew is not super likely to argue on your behalf, unless you count cussing someone out as “arguing.” In which case it’s like 50/50. He’s more willing to step in physically. He doesn’t want to be a glorified meat-shield, but if your life were in danger he would 100% crack someone over the head with his shovel. He won’t intentionally kill someone for you but it may happen, depending on how that shovel lands. He won’t feel bad about it either way. He’s already an angry guy, and it’s even more intense when you’re in danger.

Kevin would initiate an argument on your behalf. Also very willing to throw hands on your behalf and doesn’t care if he gets hurt. He really doesn’t want to kill anyone, but if there’s no other choice he will. Your safety as his loved one comes before anyone else’s, even his own. Surprisingly, he becomes more level-headed and calculating as the danger to you increases. In other words, he’s at his most emotional in a verbal argument.

Norton mostly trusts you to handle your own issues, but if you’re obviously uncomfortable or intimidated he’ll place himself between you and the threat. Might get into a fight for you if it were serious, but his preferred way to handle things would be dealing petty revenge behind the scenes. (or, during a personality flip, violent revenge.) He would kill someone for you if there was no other way. His feelings are more intense than his actions normally suggest, but he’s concerned about going too far like he did in the mining accident.

William is a large, strong guy, who’s very rough in his sports but not so much outside them. He’ll gladly speak up for you if someone’s being a jerk, but he may or may not make the best arguments. He’s happy to be your shield and willing to throw a punch or two if someone else strikes first but, again, he’d rather wrap things up before getting to that point. If he had to, he’d probably kill to protect you, but it would haunt him for the rest of his life. He’s very hot-headed in regards to your safety.

If Victor is one thing, it’s brave. He’s not likely to speak on your behalf, or try to hurt someone for you, but he’s more than willing to place himself in harm’s way if it means he has even a chance of getting you out of it. He always lingers close by if there’s tension in the air so he can pull you behind him at a moment’s notice.

Luca is very likely to step into an argument on your behalf—though in his case it’s more him trying to end the argument rather than engage it. He’s willing to step into danger to guide you out of it, but not to attempt violence. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows he’s too weak to be helpful in that way. He’s quite calm up until your life is in immediate danger, at which point he would beg his more-capable friends to save you.

Aesop is not protective in the moment at all. He won’t step in to argue or fight for you, and isn’t very likely to step into life-threatening danger, either. His self-appointed role is healing and comforting you after the fact. And, secretly, plotting revenge. No one ever suspects Aesop as being the type to hold a grudge. But I stand by what I said in his general HCs: if we go by canon, he’s easily one of the most dangerous people in the manor.

Edgar is pretty unhelpful. Listen, listen…you’re supposed to be the tough cookie in this relationship. Edgar has venom for days; he’ll run his mouth off if you want him to, sure, but he’s not throwing himself into danger just because you can’t handle it. If you almost die…well, you’re one of the few things he cares about anymore, so the line must be drawn. If they’re within reach, the culprit ought to watch their backs for a while. And maybe not eat or drink anything they didn’t prepare themselves.

Joker is a lot like Aesop, but there’s like a 90% chance of it being without the revenge bit. He does, in fact, hold grudges, but he’s still not likely to attempt anything against someone. If they did something really horrible to you he’ll look into whatever form of public justice can be dealt to them, even if that just means trying to rally the other members of the manor into shunning them. Unlike Aesop, he’s somewhat likely to try to stop a verbal altercation, but he’s not very assertive and ends up not being much help.

LEAST 🔺

[scenesniper]

Hii! Can I ask for a Dom! Reader x Víctor Grantz? There’s not a lot content of him sadly, let alone smut with an Afab reader! Thank u

☆ victor grantz ; dominant reader! nsfw headcanons

pairing / victor grantz x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / dacryphilia, praise kink, mentions of overstimulation

word count / 443 words

author's word / i'm not really good at writing dominant reader, but i hope this was good enough.

☆ victor grantz is not much of a talkative, verbal young man and that goes without saying as well as in bed. he’ll be softly moaning under his breath as if he’s trying to contain the noise level but when he whimpers, he whimpers loud like a dejected dog.

☆ he’s awfully avoidant of your gaze the entire time but god, does he love the sight of you on top of him as you painfully grind slowly on him with your arms around his neck and your boobs at eye level to his.

☆ he loves to latch his lips on your boobs when this does happen, him sucking in a cold, deep breath with his tongue swirling the bud of your nipples.

☆ victor is an intense crier in bed. he’ll be crying and whimpering in your ear as you ride him off or especially when you give him handjobs as you play and lift your finger under his foreskin. and oh that intense gaze you’ll have on him is enough to make him so shy under your touch.

☆ he won’t hesitate on getting down on his knee to eat you if you ever command him. his grip on your thighs are firm but there’s that soft touch of his that’s purely so gentle on you as if he’s touching something made of porcelain. he loves to lap up every taste in you, sucking and doing anything in his power to get any illicit reaction from you.

☆ he loves praise and especially your praise that keeps him going. your body jolting from excitement or verbal moans and musings of his work. "good boy.. you're doing so good.. just like that.." as you play with his hair, tugging on it, as you drag your hand down to his ears.

☆ tease him, make him feel all the more embarrassed and needy for you. he loves the little shows that you'll give him, you positioning yourself onto him, you slowly removing your underwear or a touch brushing against his skin. he’ll start having his hands on his face to try and attempt to hide his shameful ecstasy.

☆ leave him with tears running down his cheek, overstimulate him until there's cum everywhere on his stomach. his leg is practically shaking from everything you’ve put him through, his head all fuzzy.

[mercillery]

Hi, I read your Frederick/Reader and absolutely fell in love with your writing style. Was kicking my feet type shi😭 If you’re willing to, could you write for Victor Grantz in the same format ? If you do my world genuinely will be complete.

Thanks and have a good one!

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: The way you worded your request was hilarious thank u so much and sorry this took super duper long…consider this my early Christmas gift to you. I hope this is the format you wanted 🥹❤️❤️❤️

Meeting Victor is like trying to pet a stray cat: approach too quickly, and he’s gone before you even say “hello.” He’s a master of the subtle retreat—one second there, the next, poof, like smoke in the wind. Victor’s shy, wary nature doesn’t just make him skittish; it’s practically an Olympic sport. He’s the reigning champion of Avoidance 101.

But don’t worry—if you come at him gently, with no sudden movements and a kind heart, he might cautiously peer out from behind the metaphorical couch. It’s a process though, so buckle up for the long haul. Winning Victor’s trust is less about grand gestures and more about the quiet, unspoken ones.

Want to impress him? Forget the flashy declarations of friendship and instead offer to help him feed the strays or—better yet—silently leave him a little note of encouragement. He’ll find it later, blush like a tomato, and spend three days overthinking how to say “thank you.”

Victor values people who respect his boundaries like they’re sacred artifacts in a museum—look, but don’t touch, unless invited. The tiniest, most understated acts of care leave the biggest impression on him.

Did you pick up a letter he dropped without making a big deal about it? Congratulations, you’re now a recurring character in the cinema of Victor’s mind. He’ll replay that scene like it’s Oscar-worthy, analyzing it frame by frame. “Were they just being kind, or did they pity me?” he’ll wonder at 3 a.m., sandwiched between anxiety and the hope that maybe—just maybe—you actually like him for who he is.

Spoiler alert: Victor is going to assume pity at first. That’s just his brand.

Victor’s idea of initiating a conversation is basically an international diplomatic incident. He’s not one to start talking, because, let’s be honest, that requires bravery, and he’s still working up to being brave enough to ask for extra ketchup at the fast food drive-thru. But once he trusts you and that’s a long journey involving more emotional hoops than the Olympics, he’ll let slip little nuggets of his inner world.

He’ll drop these tiny little gems about himself like it’s a treasure hunt, but you’ve got to be quick, because they’re easy to miss. One day, he might casually mention how a certain flower takes him back to his childhood—cue the mental image of him as a tiny, awkward version of himself, surrounded by daisies.

Another time, he might comment on how people’s faces light up when they get letters, like he’s some sort of professional mail therapist who knows the emotional impact of a good envelope. When Victor opens up, it’s like witnessing a rare bird in the wild—blink and you might miss it.

Victor is not one for blatant hints, because he’s too busy trying to avoid direct confrontation (his skill at this could be rivaled only by the world’s most skilled diplomats). So, no, he’ll never explicitly ask for your company, because that would require him to open his mouth and risk exposing his soft, squishy emotional side.

Instead, his actions do the talking—though they might need a bit of interpretation, so keep your detective hat on. Victor might subtly adjust his delivery route so it conveniently passes by places you frequent. It's almost as if he’s carefully plotting to get within a five-foot radius of you, and hey, who could blame him? Maybe he’s just really into the whole “unexpectedly running into people you know” thing.

Or, if he’s really feeling bold, he’ll linger a little longer when dropping off your mail, as if the mailbox suddenly has some profound existential meaning. If you happen to notice this and casually join him (because you are a good person who isn’t going to let Victor spiral into further awkwardness alone, right?), he’ll be overjoyed—but also extremely flustered, because admitting he wants you around would require him to admit he has feelings. And that, my friend, is a level of vulnerability he’s not quite ready for. But don’t worry, his heart’s doing the cha-cha on the inside.

Victor is a masterclass in the actions speak louder than words school of love. He’s not going to serenade you with declarations of affection or wax poetic about how your eyes sparkle like the morning dew—because, frankly, just thinking about that would make him combust.

Instead, he shows he cares in his own quiet, sneaky way. Mention your favorite tea once, and guess what? He’ll remember it for eternity. He’s got a mental file labeled Your Preferences: Highly Classified that’s better organized than the national archives.

You’ll casually say, “Oh, I’ve been meaning to read this one book,” and BAM—next thing you know, it’s magically in your mailbox with a little note that just says, “Thought you might like this.” And if there’s a stray cat you always stop to pet, Victor will casually start carrying an extra biscuit in his satchel for it.

Let’s be honest, though—if you look hungry enough, that biscuit might end up being for you. It’s basically his love language: tea, books, and snacks.

If you want to make his day, just sit next to him quietly and do something peaceful together. He’s like a houseplant—happy just existing in the same space as you, soaking up the shared sunlight.

Whether you’re tending a garden, reading side-by-side, or helping stray animals, those moments make him feel like he’s starring in his own low-budget indie movie (the kind with no dialogue but lots of meaningful glances).

There’s no pressure to talk, and that’s exactly how he likes it. If he had his way, his life would just be a montage of cozy, quiet activities with you, set to the soft plink of piano music.

Of course, Victor’s social anxiety has a habit of pulling pranks on both him and everyone else. One minute, he’s enjoying your company; the next, he’s retreating like a vampire caught in the sunlight. No explanation, no warning—just poof, gone. It’s not you, it’s him—and his brain, which likes to play a cruel game called Let’s Overthink This Until We Die.

If he avoids eye contact or looks like he’s considering tunneling through the nearest wall to escape, it’s not because you’ve done anything wrong. He’s probably just overwhelmed and desperately trying to remember how humans are supposed to behave. Give him some space, and he’ll come back once he’s convinced himself you don’t secretly think he’s the most awkward person alive.

Spoiler: he totally thinks you think that anyway.

Victor wrestles with an Olympic-level sense of unworthiness, like his brain has its own personal commentator constantly reminding him, “And here we have Victor, doubting his ability to be loved again—10 points for consistency!”

He struggles to believe that anyone could genuinely care for someone like him, especially given his arsenal of awkwardness and insecurities. Seriously, if self-deprecation were a sport, he’d have a gold medal and a sponsorship deal.

But here’s the thing: if you’re patient and reassuring, he’ll eventually start peeling back the layers of his fears. He might quietly admit to his scopophobia (fear of being stared at), his doubts about whether he’s even capable of forming meaningful relationships, or—prepare yourself for heartbreak—his lingering sadness over never receiving a letter addressed just to him. (Excuse me while I cry forever.)

When this happens, please, for the love of all that is good, don’t panic and start shouting affirmations at him like you’re his personal life coach. Victor thrives on calm, gentle reassurance, not pressure or raised voices. Your steady, quiet presence is like emotional chamomile tea to his frazzled soul.

Despite all his self-doubt, Victor is ridiculously perceptive about your emotions, even if he doesn’t always know what to do about them. He’s the kind of guy who notices you’re upset before you even realize it yourself.

Did you sigh a little too heavily or stare off into space for three seconds longer than usual? Victor clocked it. And while he might not be the type to launch into a grand speech about feelings, he’ll wordlessly show his care in his own way.

Maybe he’ll leave a single flower on your desk—no note, no explanation, just there, like a little whisper of “I see you.” Or, if he’s feeling extra sneaky, he might nudge Wick in your direction, because let’s be real: nothing cheers a person up like an adorable animal who’s clearly been coerced into playing emotional support.

One thing Victor absolutely loves is writing letters. And by love, I mean obsesses over to an absurd degree. His letters to you are the perfect blend of poetic and adorably clumsy, like he’s trying to pour his heart out but keeps tripping over the words.

One moment, you’ll be reading something surprisingly profound about how much he values your presence, and the next, you’ll find a sentence where he’s clearly panicked mid-thought and gone with something hilariously awkward. (“Your eyes remind me of… uh… really nice things!”)

But what makes these letters so special is how deeply personal they are.

They’re filled with gratitude for the quiet joy you bring into his life, written in a way that’s so uniquely him you can practically hear him fumbling through each line. Honestly, if love languages were mail-based, Victor would be your number-one postman.

Crowds and Victor go together about as well as oil and water—or Victor and social confidence. But if you casually mention liking something, prepare yourself, because this man will brave the seventh circle of hell (the local market) to get it for you.

Picture it: Victor, sweating bullets, weaving through bustling streets like a man on a mission, clutching his satchel like it’s a lifeline. He’ll return flustered but victorious, the prized item wrapped so carefully you’d think it was made of glass.

His face will be a mix of relief and pride, as if he’s just slain a dragon. (To be fair, for Victor, that is the equivalent.) Don’t be surprised if he brushes off your thanks with an awkward, “Oh, it was nothing,” while secretly hoping you’re impressed by his bravery. Spoiler alert: you should be.

Wick, Victor’s trusty dog, isn’t just a pet—he’s practically a third wheel in your relationship. And, honestly? It’s adorable.

Victor sees Wick as an extension of himself, so when Wick curls up in your lap or adorably gnaws at your shoelaces, that’s basically Victor saying, “I trust you with my soul, but, you know, through the dog.”

The moment you start caring for Wick—feeding him, petting him, or playing fetch—Victor’s heart practically bursts into a thousand sparkly pieces. Watching you with Wick is like watching someone hold a tiny, fluffy version of his heart in their hands. Wick’s antics aren’t just cute; they’re a whole bonding experience.

Honestly, at this point, the three of you are a family. Wick’s the child, Victor’s the awkwardly doting dad, and you’re the incredibly patient parent trying to keep them both in line.

Arguments with Victor are about as common as a solar eclipse: rare, slightly uncomfortable, and leaving everyone a bit disoriented afterward. Confrontation isn’t in his wheelhouse—if there’s tension, his first instinct is to retreat like a turtle into its shell.

If he’s hurt, he won’t blow up or yell; instead, he’ll quietly pull away, letting his mind run a marathon of overthinking. By the time you’ve moved on, he’s still replaying the argument on loop like a bad soap opera. But here’s the thing: Victor is ridiculously introspective.

Once he’s processed his emotions a process that may or may not involve pacing, Wick cuddles, and at least one existential crisis, he’ll write you a letter. And not just any letter—a heartfelt, soul-baring essay on what went wrong, why he feels the way he does, and how much he still values you.

Victor’s ultimate dream isn’t flashy—it’s not a yacht, a mansion, or a five-star lifestyle. No, in Victor’s perfect world, it’s just the two of you, Wick happily trotting at your heels, living your best life of ultimate domesticity.

No loud parties, no awkward small talk, just a quiet house with a cozy garden and maybe a suspiciously large collection of rocks Victor has insisted are “artistic.” The joy of daily routines—making tea, feeding stray animals, and Victor nervously handing you love letters he’s rewritten five times—is his idea of pure bliss. If this man ever proposes, it’s going to involve Wick wearing a bowtie and an “I woof you” sign, so brace yourself for maximum wholesome chaos.

One day, Victor might finally muster the courage to show you his favorite quiet spots. Each one has a backstory that’s equal parts sweet and painfully awkward.

There’s the meadow where he feeds stray animals because, of course, he’s secretly the neighborhood Dr. Dolittle. There’s the stream where he collects smooth stones, claiming they “help him think,” even though he’s just really bad at skipping rocks. And then there’s the old tree. Beneath its branches is a hollow stuffed with letters Victor was too shy to deliver as a teenager.

You’ll probably find one addressed to “That Kind Lady at the Bakery Who Smiled Once,” because he’s been like this forever. And if you’re really lucky, he’ll read one out loud, stammering through every word.

Over time, you become more than just his partner—you’re his anchor, his emotional life raft, and occasionally his human shield in crowds. While Victor still breaks into a cold sweat at the thought of socializing (his personal Mount Everest), your presence helps him step outside his comfort zone.

Maybe he’ll start saying “hello” to strangers instead of just nodding and looking at his feet, or—dare we dream—he’ll manage a full conversation without overanalyzing it later.

Knowing you’ll always have his back gives him the courage to face the terrifying world of small talk and eye contact. And when he’s feeling especially brave, he might even join you in a crowd without Wick acting as his emotional chaperone. Just don’t expect miracles—Victor’s still Victor, after all. But you love him either way, shy or not <3

CHRISTMAS BONUS

Yes, it’s his birthday, but it’s also Christmas, and let’s just say the holiday tends to hog the spotlight like a diva at center stage. While everyone’s busy decking the halls and roasting chestnuts, Victor’s birthday barely gets a whisper. Imagine being handed a gift as a kid and hearing, “This counts for Christmas and your birthday!”—traumatizing, honestly.

As an adult, he’s resigned himself to the overshadowed celebrations, but deep down, it still stings a little. But that’s where you come in.

If you acknowledge his birthday with a small, heartfelt gesture—a handwritten card, a bouquet of winter flowers, or even a slightly burnt homemade cookie—he’ll be so touched he might need to sit down. (Emotionally overwhelmed Victor is a sight to behold—think deer in headlights but with more blushing.)

On Christmas morning, Victor isn’t inside unwrapping presents or sipping cocoa by the fire like a normal person. Nope, he’s outside in the frosty dawn, feeding the stray animals, because of course he is.

When you join him, he won’t make a big deal about it, but his face will light up like a Christmas tree—albeit a very understated one. Without a word, he’ll pull out an extra scarf from his satchel and gently wrap it around your neck. If you thank him, he’ll just mumble something about it being cold, all while his ears turn red.

Wick, meanwhile, will be living his best life, barking like a lunatic and spinning around your feet in an uncoordinated display of canine excitement. Between the wagging tail, Victor’s shy smiles, and the soft crunch of snow underfoot, it’ll feel less like a Hallmark movie and more like a quiet, perfect slice of real life—the kind of moment Victor secretly dreams about but never dares to ask for.

Victor’s favorite part of the holidays isn’t the gifts he receives—it’s watching other people open theirs. Specifically, your gift. While you’re tearing into the wrapping paper, Victor is sitting there, looking like a bundle of nerves wrapped in a sweater, his amber eyes fixed on you with a mix of hope and terror.

His present is always something he’s put way too much thought into: a delicate trinket he made himself, like a pressed flower bookmark or a small wooden carving of you and Wick that probably took him hours. He’ll fidget like crazy as you look at it, practically sweating bullets, and then stammer out something like, “I-I wasn’t sure if you’d like it, but I thought, uh... maybe…”

Here’s the thing: you’d better say you love it. Not just “like it,” but full-on, scream-with-joy love it. Why? Because poor Victor will have spent approximately 400 sleepless nights agonizing over that gift. When you smile and tell him it’s perfect, he’ll just about melt into the couch with relief.

Externally, he’ll nod and mumble, “I’m glad,” like it’s no big deal, but internally, he’s bursting into a fireworks display so sparkly it could rival New Year’s Eve. Wick might sense the mood too and start barking happily, adding to the chaos.

In the evening, as the holiday buzz winds down, you and Victor find yourselves by the fire, sharing a quiet, intimate moment. He’s wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, and his hands are cradling a mug of tea that he’s barely touched because he’s too busy working up the courage to speak.

Finally, he starts recounting a few childhood Christmases. His voice is soft and hesitant, like he’s afraid the words might shatter if he says them too loudly. The stories themselves are simple—a handmade toy from a neighbor, the first time he saw snow—but his eyes glow with such quiet contentment that you can practically see the warmth of those memories written all over his face.

When the fire burns low, the two of you head out for a walk. Snow is falling in soft, lazy flakes, the kind that makes the world feel like it’s holding its breath. Wick, of course, is living it up, bounding ahead and occasionally stopping to sniff a suspicious patch of snow before darting off again.

Meanwhile, Victor stays close to you, his gloved hand brushing yours but never quite daring to hold it unless you make the first move. For once, he doesn’t feel the usual anxiety about being seen. The world could be watching, but with you beside him, it doesn’t matter. He feels safe, as though the snow-covered streets and the warmth of your presence are enough to shield him from everything else.

And if Wick comes barreling back mid-walk, absolutely covered in snow and looking absurdly pleased with himself, Victor might let out the softest laugh you’ve ever heard. It’s rare, like spotting a shooting star, and it fills the quiet evening air with a joy so pure you can’t help but smile.

[entomologistt]

What do they give you for Christmas?

Featuring: Emma Woods, Orpheus DeRoss, Victor Grantz, Vera Nair, Anne Lester, Frederick Kreiburg (Identity V)

Contains: Holiday gift giving, fluff, seperate romantic headcanons, gender neutral reader

Ento note: Happy Holidays! And good day to you if you don’t celebrate 🙂‍↕️ I don’t even remember what I spent all my spyglasses on, but now I can’t afford Melly’s christmas B tier… sighs. Next year she will be be mine, trust 🙏

Emma Woods “Gardener”

Emma has to think outside the box this time. She always gives you the prettiest flowers and all of the best, most succulent fruits and vegetables from her garden… Plus, it’s wintertime.

So she reverts back to her old roots of handiwork… Knitting! She spends a while working on a huuuuge knitted sweater of your favourite color(s), each woollen row a sign of her unwavering commitment to making the coziest sweater. 

When she finally gifts it to you, it’s really warm and comfy, perfect for the holiday season. She even made herself a matching green one!

Orpheus DeEss “Novelist”

If you share a similar interest, such as reading, he’d give you books of your favourite genres and authors.

Actually—he’d probably write something just for you, a story he knows you’d enjoy, one that gets you more intrigued with each turn of the page. Maybe even some poems for just you.

He’d also get you a locket necklace or a watch, a piece of pretty jewellery for you to wear. You can put whatever you want in it. Will you keep him close to you?

Victor Grantz “Postman”

He’s a sweetheart, that’s for sure. He shows up at your door with a smile on his face, a bouquet full of poinsettias and red roses held out for you to take. Of course, Wick is with him too, her tail wagging as she barked excitedly behind him. 

Victor is a good listener, so he always takes mental notes on things you like or things you might need. He gifts you various things, including supplies for any hobbies you partake in. 

He also gifts you a new notebook that you can keep, so you can keep his written words and conversations with you! 

Vera Nair “Perfumer”

Vera makes you two special perfumes. One is a pretty bottle full of scents that remind her of you, and she’s an expert at assigning people their recommended fragrances, scents that fit them. In this case, it’s a scent that’s so… you! 

The other is a bottle of euphoria, but she only recommends it for when you need to ease your mind. 

She also gifts you things you’d find in a gift set, full of luxurious bath and skin products. You’re dear to her, you deserve the best, after all. 

Anne Lester “Toy Merchant”

Although her specialty is wooden toys, she has another thing in mind for you. When December comes, she spends a lot of time in her workshop, crafting the perfect gift for you. 

Matching dolls! That’s right; she makes two little dolls, one that’s you and one that’s her. With the paid help of a certain prospector, the little hands are magnetized, so whenever they’re close, they connect! 

Now with these “mini-yous” in the picture, sometimes you both switch dolls. You take mini-Anne wherever you go, and mini-you sits happily on Anne’s shelf with other stuffed animals and toys. 

Frederick Kreiburg “Composer”

Of course, only something special and meaningful would suffice for his muse. At first, he thought of composing another beautiful piece for you on the piano… But let’s just say he’d never be done in time with how many times he’d restart, throwing crumpled papers to the floor. 

But a bright idea flickers in his mind, and he believes it to be possible. So when Christmas Day comes, he charmingly hands you your nicely wrapped gift. 

It’s a music box. When you twist the hand crank, a familiar tune comes in little bell-like notes. It’s one of the first composed pieces he’d ever written for you! Not only can you listen to the nostalgic melody whenever you want, you can also store your pretty jewellery and accessories in the velvet music box. 

[shinne55]

**Silent Confession**

Victor Grantz x Reader

Summary: Victor receives an anonymous letter on Valentine's Day.

Words in a conversation come and go: lies that hurt and secrets between paragraphs. Speaking in person is too complex. That’s why Victor took this job—nothing can escape in a letter. There are no hidden meanings; everything can be said from the depth of the heart. So, as a postman, he has the faithful task of delivering each letter to its destination.

It’s an honest and satisfying job. Happy, sad, bitter, or innocent faces hide behind every writer and their recipient. For the young man who didn’t speak, a letter is the purest and most sincere thing, more than an entire face-to-face conversation.

During the holidays, when the letters fill the mailbox, the busier he gets and the less time he has. Christmas, New Year, and birthdays follow, but above all, Valentine’s Day. A complicated date for a small postman, but highly appreciated by those who wish to find love. Knowing that within each envelope there is a destiny in motion made his young heart flutter.

Even though Victor had worked in his community for several months, he didn’t know the people by their names but by their letters.

The mother who writes with beautiful handwriting, pressing the pencil firmly as she writes to her husband and children away from the city.

The little ones who presumably write to Santa with scribbles and drawings.

And the lovers with their colored papers and perfumes.

On Valentine’s Day, the latter group increases noticeably.

During one of those nights, when he arrived home with his companion, Wick, a small dog that follows him everywhere, changed out of his uniform, and got ready to sleep, right after hanging his jacket and emptying his bag, a letter fell to the floor. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he looked inside his bag. It was the only letter that had slipped in the entire day, stuck with a cheap seal on the wall. A small square letter in a vermilion envelope with no name or address.

His eyebrows furrowed, and, determined to violate the author’s privacy, he opened the letter.

**To the postman

Thank you for your hard work**

No sender, no signature. An anonymous letter.

Was that it? A letter for him?

A thank you that would seem crude and silly to anyone else, but to the young mailman, a true feeling of recognition struck his chest, and immediately his cheeks turned peachy with happiness.

That night, he lay on his bed, thinking about the author. Whether it was a joke or not, he didn’t care. It moved him enough to appreciate the message. He slept with the letter open on his nightstand, and in the following days, when he returned home tired from work, he would look at that letter on his desk, under the bedside light. And his chest swelled with confidence.

The next of many letters came two weeks later. Same paper, same handwriting, and no sender.

**Dear postman

I don’t know if my letter really reached you. But I truly hope it did. Thank you for your service, without you, the community would have no real connection.**

The boy could feel the interaction as a small comfort or recognition, making him feel that his effort and dedication didn’t go unnoticed. If only he had their name, he would write them a thank-you letter. Sadly, many of these letters were taken from the mailbox. And very few were delivered directly to him.

Victor is, among many of the postman in his town, just another worker, and he didn’t have much speaking ability. He relied on listening and reading lost letters and pleasant conversations. Even so, he didn’t go unnoticed by some. Over time, he earned the trust of the older writers and neighbors who had the habit of writing almost daily and waiting for his response. So, thanks to that first letter, perhaps, Victor gained more confidence.

A couple of months later, with a one-sided connection on his part, and after several failed attempts to identify the address of the sender, he gave up and settled on reading them when he left work. A routine of preparing a cold glass of milk on the small table next to his bed, taking a couple of sips while reading these letters, which over time became longer. With little everyday things like the weather, funny town events, and annual celebrations. Until, weeks before Christmas, the last letter arrived.

**To the Dear Postman Victor**

He smiled. After several months, they had finally used his name in the letter, and that one-sided connection became more intimate. Sometimes it started with, *"My favorite postman,"* or a formal, *"Dear Victor."* All very polite until the author began recounting their day-to-day life. He knew much more about her life than his own. Everything except her name.

Calmly, with his dog snoring at the foot of the bed, he continued reading:

**"I’m sorry for sending these strange letters for so long. The truth is, I just wanted someone to talk to."**

Victor stopped reading and straightened his back against the headboard of the bed:

**"My mother passed away months ago, and my father three years ago. I’ve felt so alone, but the idea that someone would read one of these letters, and that it would be you, brings me comfort. But it’s also likely that I scared you or someone else. I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again."**

No more letters arrived.

Was something happening to her during these months when she didn’t write? Was she feeling lonely and planning to do something drastic?

For many days, he was afraid. He knew loneliness and what it did to people firsthand. But it felt far worse knowing he couldn’t do anything to help her change her mind.

He waited a day, then a week, but that vermilion-colored paper, with those homemade seals, didn’t appear in any mailbox in the city. Victor was the only one responsible for collecting letters in that area, so it didn’t make sense for them not to show up.

“Are you looking for someone who lost her mother this year?” an old woman from the bakery he regularly visited asked. “Hmm, there’s a girl, yes. She hasn’t been seen lately. She usually comes to shop during the week. On Tuesdays, I think.”

*During the week—that’s when my shift begins, and I pick up the letters,* Victor thought.

Despite being reserved, the concern on his face and his written manner prompted the woman to share more details.

**[Who is she?]**

It was good he had his notebook on hand to communicate. Even though his hand trembled, and his writing was messy, the woman understood what he wanted to ask.

**[YN]**

**[Where does she live?]** he wrote quickly. Wrapped in his winter uniform and a scarf, he hid his nervousness with the cold.

“On Central Avenue, four blocks down.”

He grabbed his pencil again and wrote:

**[Do you know if she has any relatives or friends in the city?]**

The question puzzled the woman, and she hesitated to answer.

“You look like a good boy. You remind me of my grandson. No, she lives alone as far as I know. You know, he wasn't a... very good man. The poor girl has been accompanying her mother in mourning ever since. ”

Victor was already running, fast, faster than when he tried to deliver late packages or when chasing Wick for stealing his parcels.

He abandoned his usual calm demeanor and ran toward the address the woman had mentioned, clinging to hope. And there it was—a small house with a well-kept garden separating Victor from her. It was winter now, and a layer of snow covered everything in pristine white—the streets, rivers, and even her garden.

*Should I do this?* He didn’t know her in person, but after ten months of letters, he felt like he had known her his whole life.

Even so, he knocked gently, not brave enough to ring the doorbell further ahead.

Although she might not feel the same. Although she might think she was bothering him, Victor waited for her letter every day. He wanted to know about her life, every little detail. He wanted to hear her laugh, cry, and see her in person.

And even if they had never met before—

“Hello?”

He wanted to be by her side.

What words could he offer? What could he say when he had never spoken to her before?

“Victor?”

As he stood there, sweating, lungs and brain on the verge of collapsing, he stopped and saw her—you—for the first time. Just as he had imagined and more. His words couldn’t describe the wave of emotions he felt seeing you there, safe.

You were surprised it was him. He didn’t know your name or your address. That’s why you never included it. You had overthought it, assuming it would be awkward—and it was.

When Victor extended his arms with several letters in hand and a determined expression, your face shifted to concern and embarrassment.

“So, you read them all. I’m sorry.”

Quickly, he held the letters tightly to his chest, and his expression seemed to tell you not to apologize. Victor leaned down, his gaze full of tenderness, more so than Wick’s by his side. Somehow, the way his eyes reminded you of summer leaves and his hair of sunlight made you feel undeserving of something so good.

“You don’t know anything about me, you only know me through those silly letters.”

He shook his head, his eyebrows raising in protest. *Silly? Not at all.* When you saw him take out his notebook and scribble something with a pencil, you were puzzled to read it.

**[I know the girl who loves iced coffee at night, who loves animals as much as I love Wick.]**

“Please, go. You’re not doing any good staying here.”

You were about to turn and shut the door when Wick bit at the fabric of your pants. You tried shaking him off, only for Victor to grab your wrist.

His mouth trembled, his lips pressing together before forming anything more than a murmur. It felt cruel to turn your back on someone who, despite his disability, was trying to help you.

“I… like you.”

No one had ever heard him speak. People assumed he couldn’t. He spoke clumsily when it came to you, but he spoke. His voice, breathless yet soft, like cream in coffee, melted your heart to hear it.

“No! It’s impossible. No one could love me. You’re lying.”

Why wouldn’t anyone love you? Who had made you believe that? If someone thought they could never be loved that way, Victor assumed it would have been him—not someone like you.

He searched his pockets, his gaze panicking until Wick barked and placed an envelope on the ground. Victor patted his head and handed it to you.

Vermilion—the color of your letters. However, this one had a sender.

**To YN, from Victor.**

**[You opened your heart to me, YN, in a way no one else ever has. And now, I have to give you mine.]**

“Victor…” You clutched the letter.

He gave you a broken smile, encouraging you to read it fully.

**[You will live a long life, YN, watching the sunset every evening. You won’t ever be alone again. I just need one thing.]**

The letter ended there.

“But what is it that you want?”

He pointed to himself. He placed his hands, loosely balled into fists, over his heart, as if hugging something precious. Then, he took your hands and intertwined them over your chest.

“I don’t understand… Why? Aren’t you tired of hearing from me and reading about me?”

He wrote something else in his notebook:

**[I could listen to you my entire life.]**

You didn’t fully understand, but with him, words weren’t necessary.

**[I’ve met many people in my life, but none like you. I found you, YN. I won’t let you go. I love you.]**

You felt foolish. Every emotion you’d suppressed spilled out like crystalline pearls. You couldn’t say anything, but you hugged him like you’d always been searching for him, while he had been waiting for you.

In that moment, Victor knew he had found love in your silence.

[yoshinoritoshi]

perverts- like... peeping toms- they like to watch you, just watching from afar obsessively, pervert style. tell us, who in IDV do you think likes to do this?

Easyyyyyyy, it's Victor, Andrew, Luca, Mike, and Joker!

I mean, almost any IDV man would do it, and has done some creeping on you before, (with some feeling immense guilt for doing so and others being shameless), but those five are the main culprits.

Victor likes to watch people! Andrew likes to watch you! Luca is a pervert! Mike likes keeping an eye on you! And Joker... is always watching you.

[totallynotpochacco]

Yandere Victor & Andrew x reader !!

—Genre: Smut, yandere, a bit of fluff (Mostly with aftercare, if you choose to add that)!! —You can make this a normal Victor & Andrew x reader- maybe just simply making them jealous, or turning it down a few notches- but if you don’t mind I like yandere fics, especially with duo yanderes!!

—Victor (Main headcanons): Victor is a more fluffy yandere, but he’s secretly very manipulative, due to his ‘shy’ nature he comes off as innocent, and he fully uses that to guilt trip reader when he doesn’t get enough attention from them. Victor’s also scared of losing Reader, afraid he won’t get any more letters just for him from them. But Victor does what every yandere does, when he gets threatened by someone else, he gets threatening back, it’s subtle, but he’ll send a letter to them, basically saying Reader doesn’t love them and they should back off- in a passive aggressive type tone, but if they don’t back off, during the manor games, he’ll purposefully put them in danger- tripping them, messing up decoding, etc. Though Victor will always play the “innocent, sweet postman” when confronted, feigning a lot of trust in Reader to seem more naive and incapable of doing such things!!

—Andrew (Main headcanons): Andrew is also very manipulative, but uses it in a different way, he both guilt trips you, and uses his “pathetic gravekeeper” status, to make Reader seem more intertwined with him. And by proxy, with people getting freaked out by Andrew, they’ll slowly become more isolated until they have nobody but him. Andrew was raised alone, never understood or given basic empathy, so when Reader showed the slightest affection, he opened up and became obsessed. Andrew is delusional, thinking this is what the lord destined him, an angelic, patient person to deal with his melancholy nature- and how any rivals are demons, he uses this to justify when he feels guilty for hurting Reader, indirectly or directly. If the isolation doesn’t work, Andrew will straight up threaten him, taking advantage of his lanky, sickly figure to scare off others!!

—Plot: Andrew noticed Victor getting too warmed up with Reader, and with how obviously affectionate Andrew was Victor noticed him. Originally they planned to full on kill the other, until they realized they had a common goal, plus they were also very close prior to becoming obsessed with Reader- so the two besties made a deal, they’d share Reader!! Andrew is vanilla because he’s holy-er than thou, so Victor had to explain certain positions suited for 3 people, making both blush really bad- surprisingly Andrew is the most dominant, and Victor is the more subtle one!!

—M anon: Your biggest fan !!

OMG.. NO WAY…

First off, this was just, chefs kiss.. like I loved reading this.. the writing and the font and the colors and askskdjdj

Second, MY FIRST LETTER ANON!! AHHH- I could kiss you…

Third your so right.. they would totally do all of that but let me present to you some of my thoughts..

Also I didn’t really feel like making a whole fic, sorry, but I’ll make one soon surrounded around this..!

Andrew and Victor sharing the same darling..

———————————————————————-

Okay first, I just kinda wanna state what’s in my head first,

So in the manor I like to think that they can die, but they just wake up again in bed. Like respawning.

So Andrew definitely killed Victor out of spite at least once by ‘accidentally’ shoving him into the Hunter and getting him killed.

Victor would totally attempt the same but he’d never get the chance because he’d figure out their common goal.

So relationship wise I don’t feel like they’d be very poly, mostly because I’m sorta uncomfortable writing poly stuff but I’ll let the threesome stuff slide, just a bit. Though, they’d definitely take turns sharing you.

Like there’s dedicated days…

Not gonna go into the days stuff but they sometimes, rarely, fight about it.. just know that holidays are mostly on whoever lands on that day and the other has to suck it up and save it for the next..

So when it comes to actual sex Andrew was kinda standoffish because like, sex in general is unholy, wouldn’t doing it with two people make it worse?

After some gentle convincing, Andrew caves and agrees. Only to find out that he.. tolerates it. It’s good in a way but it’s not his favorite.

It would take Andrew sometime to warm up to this sorta stuff, but once he’s into it, he’s into it. Victor doesn’t seem to have a problem either way, he’s getting what he wants at the cost of having to share. And it’s mostly a win/win.

Andrew would rather have you to himself. As would Victor, but anyways, he figures out, somehow, the best types of positions. And gently guides the three of you through it.

Andrew is behind you, with Victor in front, ass up and mouth open, taking both of them so nicely.

Victor is gently grunting as he thrusts into your mouth, while Andrew has a hand on your hip and another in your hair, pounding into you as he loses himself in pleasure.

By the end of it you’re stuffed in all holes and sandwiched between the both of them. Their hold on you very possessive.

I Lowkey feel like they’d make a competition out of this, to see who can pleasure you the most. There doesn’t have to be a winner but the jabs here and there make it worth it.

———————————————————————-

I hoped you like this.. I really don’t know how to write smut well. I also hope I didn’t like derail what you had in mind cause that’s the last thing I wanted to do..

[ch6douin]

> Dᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ. — IDV! SELF AWARE AU (5)

THIS IS PART FIVE OF MY IDV!SELF AWARE AU! I love this au but i cannot bring myself to do anything other than brainrot every single day. i would love to hear brainrots, feedbacks or anything related to this au in my askbox, so feel free to mark your presence there.

cw: obsessive behavior; mentions of feeling/being watched; romantic someway; religious behavior; idk what else

Fiona loved the mystic. That's something not so surprising as she was given the title of a Priestess. She swore upon the Lakeside Village to adore the one and only Yog Sothoth, to be worthy of his blessings.

But she's incapable of escaping from this manor and honoring his name properly, incapable of escaping from you.

She knows you, to a certain extent because of the gossip and whispers around the survivors but you know her all too well, every single flaw and trait. Her devotion to Yog Sothoth didn't budge at that time, since at the end of the day, Fiona did not acknowledge you.

Skepticism could be her middle name, scripted to be deep into her heart, protecting it from any dangers. But you sneaked in, clueless of your effect on her. And so suddenly, her offerings to Yog Sothoth lacked sincerity.

She doesn't want to...be like this, be indecisive, she always criticized one for such weakness. But every time she thinks about choosing between you and the eldritch god, she is sent into a spiral of sentiments and beliefs, and anxiety settles deep within her bones. You're taking up too much space inside her, and she can't do anything besides hope that you give her enough room for breathing.

Yog Sothoth's presence is cold as ice and almost frightening, it is something Fiona thought that she was used to it. But she got way too comfortable with the feeling of your unique presence, safe as the embrace of a lover. It makes her dizzy, her heart is filled with tenderness but her brain tugs on it like a warning. Sometimes, it makes her sick in the stomach to sense that she failed to do something simple as to follow one god.

Little by little, her makeshift shrine with tons of trinkets for the ancient god is emptied. The overwhelming amount of items almost spilling out from the shrine are nowhere to be seen. Her loud murmurs from her requests to "Hastur" that every survivor could hear when passing by her door (which for a curious motive, is filled with thick locks and chains) are nothing now but a faint whisper of your name, so silent and soothing as if she is afraid to startle you or make you annoyed by her wishes. But did you hear her prayers? You must have, she likes to believe you do. That's the only explanation for her wardrobe full of luxurious clothes and accessories, silky materials that she would never even dream about touching.

She dreams of you, every night. It must be because she thinks about you almost all the time, but she fools herself into thinking it's you infesting her dreams despite the mindset being incredibly irrational. And every time you appear, her brain creates an individual that could only be described as breathtaking, because any idea that Fiona had about your appearance however you looked like was nothing short of ethereal, divine. She would kneel and worship you regardless of people's opinions.

The others be damned. They never gave her such a strong feeling.

And may you also give her enough patience to not wrap her fingers around that Mercenary's throat—when he stands with a look of nonchalance and crossed arms as if he didn't fuck up everything. She couldn't care less about the hint of regret in his sharp eyes, and she started blinking fast as if to dissipate the sudden urge to pounce on him. But you wouldn't want that, would you? After all, you graced him with your presence more times than one could count with their hands, even if his mouth was always kept shut, she knows because there was nothing that could justify his fidgety behavior when the subject was you.

"Any explanations for your foul behavior, Mr.Subedar?" Just like him, her arms are folded tightly on her chest as she spits out her words, cutting through the palpable tension in the room. And by the way he looks at her through the corner of his eye, she really has the impression of not even deserving his attention.

"It's simple, I don't trust them." Indeed, a simple and short answer followed by his thick accent doesn't satisfy Fiona that much. But that's just Naib Subedar, the mercenary is always stubborn and will feed you nothing but crumbles of information until you go crazy for good.

"Oh for god's sake. You don't trust anyone, Subedar." She sighs heavily, rubbing her forehead in annoyance. "The day you do, pigs might fly!" The woman walks around the dimly lit room with impatience, and he remains still as a statue. Aside from a twitch of his brows and a brief glare, there is no reaction to her words.

"Who I trust or not is none of your business, Gilman. Just like you being an obsessive freak with this person, if we can even call them that, has nothing to do with me." He is good at pretending to not be fazed as if he didn't experience goosebumps all over his body five minutes ago when he could finally hear your voice clearer than ever. And when the thought of how you looked from the other side of the screen went through his head for a fleeting second, he swears his heart rate did not increase. Why do you have this effect on him? On everyone? You were able to swoon the hearts of even the most reserved men and women in this manor, you even made him feel somehow special initially.

Emma plants flowers that you might like, Frederick and Antonio create tunes and songs inspired by you, Demi has confessed her admiration for you countless times in her drunken state—Hell, Naib is sure that he had a glimpse of Edgar Valden himself stressing over a painting and mumbling how he 'just had to see you in person, his lost muse'.

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud groan. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that for the sake of our partnership." He had hit a nerve, didn't he? It's written all across her face, eyebrows furrowed, lips in a firm line, eyelids twitching...It almost brings a smile to his lips how worked up she got. His eyes trail down to her hands for no particular reason, they are gripping her robe tightly in between her fingers.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night.." His mouth has a small pout of indifference as he shrugs, heavy boots accompany him when he walks away to finally leave and have some rest. There is nothing that he wants more than to forget about all of this for at least a few hours, that is if he doesn't end up having you appear in his dreams and waking up with wide eyes filled with evident embarrassment. Maybe he wasn't so different from the other survivors and hunters...

Twisting the doorknob and looking up through his eyelashes, much to his dismay, a person that he knows all too well stands proud. With his black and white clothes, it's Luca Balsa in the flesh. Even with the shaky postman wiping away his tear-smudged cheeks behind the prisoner's back like a shadow, his toothy grin never faltered. He must be sure of himself if he still remains unperturbed by the problems ahead. Naib steps away to give them enough space to enter the room and then vanishes without a word, not before noticing how the postman's irises followed him till he was no longer within eye's reach. If Naib was able to gain the hate of someone so calm, he indeed might be a jerk.

It doesn't take long for Luca to speak up. "Long short story, an unexpected error happened, and now no one knows how to turn it on without my help?" He's casual with it, maybe overconfident in his abilities as an inventor but some optimism was very much needed right now. After all, he should not disappoint in their pursuit to contact you!

There's a short silence, followed by the loud crack of his knuckles as he takes a long stride towards the machine. "Alright, this might take some time. I recommend for you two to take a break and have a little debate with the others in the main hall. Everyone is starving for good news."

OBS: When Fiona mentions "luxury clothes" she's referring to the A/S tier costumes from the game.

naib wants u so bad bro 🤨 a lot of characters may appear next chapter but of course half of it may be a little more luca centered, and maybe if i make it long enough we will come back to reader's pov😆

[meowordeath]

Identity v characters with s/o who can’t cook!

w/ Eli Clark, Ganji Gupta & Victor Grantz

A/N: I don’t think could ever not include Eli in one of my little scenarios. I am so pissed i wrote a Norton part and it got deleted so I just decided to remove him.

Eli Clark

Eli supported you in everything you wanted to do, you want to try knitting? He’ll wear whatever you make, your feeling like you want to pick up art? He’s free to model, Brooke as well!

He’s always there to encourage these little fixations you pick up… but this cooking fixation you have, it just might kill him.

Whatever you were cooking currently smelt terrible, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole manor could smell it, and you’ve forbade him to watch saying ‘he makes too many suggestions.’

He waited anxiously at the table, Brooke rose sat on his shoulder comfortably. When you exit the kitchen and he didn’t even want to see what was under the lid to the dish.

You smiled setting the it down in front him, and though he was smiling back he was feeling lots of dread entering his body.

“I think this one might be my best dish yet!” You say excitedly lifting the lid to… he honestly didn’t even know.

He said the same sentences of ‘wow, smells delicious’ and ‘looks too good to eat..!’ Words he used to prolong the inevitable.

Prolong he did for a total 2 minutes, before you decided to bring the fork with whatever it was on it to his mouth.

Not reacting to this dish was a testament of strength, one of which he lost, as well as whatever he had for breakfast.

Yeah you definitely felt very guilty that you had been making him stuff this whole time, when he hated it.

Ganji Gupta

He’s a picky eater and you know this because every time you offer him something you made he turned it down because he doesn’t like certain things in it.

You don’t feel discouraged, not like cooking is your passion it’s just something you do to pass the time occasionally.

Whatever Ganji doesn’t take ends up being fed to Murro’s boar. It’s not like boar complained even seemed to enjoy it.

The one time he didn’t turn you down he hadn’t known it was you who had cooked it.

He had, had a late match. Unfortunately the match was against Mad-eyes and had taken forever.

He had hoped you’d save him something to eat from dinner, but considering his fellow survivors he knew the task was damn near impossible.

When entering the kitchen he greeted you and asked if there was anything left from dinner, to which you responded handing him a plate of, well he didn’t look, he didn’t even hear you saying ‘no, but-‘

Too hungry from the long drawn out match he just took a bite, only for his face to twist into disgust. He spat the sour and somehow salty dish back onto the plate.

“Gods, whoever cooked tonight needs to be banned from the kitchen.” He said bluntly.

You blink with a blank stare before telling him you’re the one who made it. He apologized for hours following you around, as you scold him for never telling you your cooking was bad.

Victor Grantz

It was gonna be Victors birthday soon, and you wanted to do something nice since he had done cute stuff for your birthday.

You made him a birthday card, drawing cute doodles on it including a small Wick doodle. During your birthday Victor had made you a small cake, and you wanted to return the favor.

You’ve never made a cake before though so you had asked Naib if he knew how. You were thinking since he likes food he must know how to cook as well.

Naib listed off thing in a cake. ‘Eggs, flour, butter, salt and sugar lots and lots of sugar, because you know cakes are sweet.’ Those had been his exact instructions.

He didn’t exactly give you measurements, so you put these items in, to your hearts content.

You probably used half a bag of sugar for this supposed to be small cake. All said and done you put it in the oven, instruction unspecified by Naib so you just guessed.

Victor had been oblivious to your scheme. He had read the sweet, heartfelt letter you left for him that morning, his heart just about melted, he’d definitely make sure to respond to it.

He was soon invited to the kitchen by you and upon arrival you wish him a happy birthday while holding a plate with a small burnt? but also raw? Cake.

He knew this was probably going to give him food poisoning but he’d eat it for you because he loves you oh so dearly, and eat he did.

The next day Victor had serve food poisoning. But not once did he regret eating the cake. He had also wrote you multiple letters reassuring you it wasn’t your fault and you two should cook together next time.

Still so mad nortons got deleted. I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it! I did not proof read!