#♧pathologic x reader

[shmowder]

hnn more Pathologic x reader rambles.

This is more of a general thing, but imagine their reaction to a reader with modern clothes? Especially with how fashion evolved and the more...revealing it got.

Like the sparkly dresses, the mini skirts and flowery tops. Or, on a more masculine note, the skin-tight leather pants, the silver body accessories, and airy silk blouses.

They try to remain respectful of course, but you do practically look like a very rich slut in their eyes. Even without a cent to your name, modern clothes just have these distinct features that stand out. It's reminiscent of the Capital's cutting-edge fashion, creme de la creme of what they consider to be progressive outfits.

Hell, even zippers are probably a fascinating thing thing to them. The mental image of attempting to survive a plague and walk around town in high heels, just clicking away, is very entertaining too.

I think Eva would be the most likely character to fall for a well-dressed reader. She'd want to know about your clothes, admiring your beauty from afar before putting on her best outfit and building her confidence enough to approach you. She'd be so sweet, too, getting flustered when you offered her to try your coat or necklace. If you happen to wear rings and give her one of yours, She'd scream internally while you put it on her finger.

The second person would probably be one of the stamatin twins. They appreciate art. Clearly your outfit has some inspiration behind it, not to mention how eye catching it is.

Peter asking to paint you, sending you an invitation to his studio, calling you his muse from that day on forward. Sketches of you on drawing papers litter the room, he starts brainstoming ideas for new outfits for you to try on.

Andrey, whose eyes follow you the second you enter the broken heart pub. You're turning heads, and he smoothly introduces himself by offering you a drink. There's no way he is letting some random grub chat you up before him. Inquiring about your clothes, saving you a permanent spot on his table.

Just a modern reader being viewed as a strangery dressed captivating person, people assuming you're from the Capital. To them, even a hoodie and some shorts are the equivalent to what high fashion currently looks to us in the modern world.

#♧pathologic x reader #x reader #♧Eva #♧Andrey #♧peter #♧fluff #pathologic x reader

[shmowder]

Hi! I wanted to stop in and say that x readers aren't usually my thing but I LOVE aro Daniil headcanons. guy who keeps being harassed about not having a heart but is still driven by an abstract love for humanity... (also you're genuinely so brave for being the first person to do x readers for Patho and I think you should keep it up)

OFJWKFJS THANKS SO MUCH.

Mhm! His love always felt drived by passion rather than romantic love, by fascination and curiosity. Daniil's heart has always been a little bit obsessed, a little bit mad under that gentle calm facade. He is in love with the idea of love, with the method of the hearts, his love is far from romantic and greater, more suffocating to contain, more euphoric and invoking to experience.

I think i will just leave it implied, the aroallo, so those who know will know. Those who look for it will see. That's why I love x reader so much. It's so open-ended and up for interpretation. It's like writing polish into a mirror to reflect the reader's heart and mind. Aro Daniil? Autistic Daniil? is this a relationship or just a one night stand? is it sexual in nature or drives another purpose? Adding hints contradicting each other to support every theory.

I hope there are more pathologic x reader writers after me! I hope my fics encourage others to come from under the floorboards with what fandoms usually consider "cringy" things like self insert, x reader or overpowered ocs. This is all for fun after all, you and me are real people having a good time while everything else in pathologic is literally just code, numbers on a string, puppets dancing a tale.

#♧pathologic x reader #pathologic x reader #♧Daniil #♧aro Daniil

[shmowder]

I saw this post and wanted to have a go at it so

What Pathologic characters bring for your birthday Pt.1

The Healers

The Bachelor's giftting etiquette is shaped by years of courtesy academia gifts. Daniil plays it safe and goes for the more traditional gifts between professional colleagues usually accompanied by a polite congratulations letter. His gifts tend to fall more on the expensive side, and they can include:

A fountain pen that only works with a special type of ink that is very annoying to get a hold of. If you bring that fact up, he seems a bit embarrassed by not realising it sooner and offers to send you the ink whenever you run out.

A professionally carved chess set piece from imported wood. Each piece is beautifully designed with a twist to distinguish it from the usual chess pieces whilst still holding a resemblance to the traditional design.

A pocket watch with your initials engraved into the gold plated back. A matching chain is included to secure it to your clothes.

A one of a kind brooch from a jewler he frequents for repairs, it symbolises something he thinks is dear to you.

A glass swan decorative piece that's very delicate and intricately designed, made by an expert glass-blower from one piece

If he's out of all options, he pulls the good ol'reliable encyclopedia on beetles with coloured HD prints

The Haruspex's Gifts are what you'd expect from a community welcoming in a new person into the neighbourhood, they tend to be homely in nature and consumable to not take up space but instead offer a small comfort. The kin usually gift food, sewing kits and home appliances, things which make life easier despite being mundane and Artemy took after them. His gifts can include:

Groceries from fresh vegetables, raw meat to canned goods, dairy, and eggs. They fresh ones last you up to a week so you don't have to worry about grocery shopping or go hungry. While canned goods could be saved as emergency food.

Wood/fuel for the fireplace to keep warm, especially with how ruthless winter can be in this town. He thought about bringing a blanket to or a sweater, but knitting was never his speciality

Emergency sewing repair kit that fits in your pocket, it includes spare buttons for your clothes and several threads in different colours to blend in with the fabrics.

He will visit you a day before your birthday and help fix anything broken around your house, be it a creeking floorboard or a wobbling table. Maybe do errands to help you prepare for the birthday party

A carved wooden toy/trinket like the ones his father used to make him in his childhood. the cuts through the wood are very clean but the design itself is chunky, he tried his best.

The idea of gifting you a cattle did cross his mind, but he wasn't sure you knew how to take care of them or have the space....also they tend to be very expensive. He settled for a bull shaped soft toy that's very popular as a home protection charm in the steppe.

The Changeling's gifting is very impacted by the fact she spawned into existence in this world just a few weeks ago. Clara still has many questions about how the world works and why the selection of ediable rocks is very limited? Her gifts are sincere in the way they remind you of playing potion making with leaves and twigs as a kid. They can include:

a small bouquet of wild flowers found around the town that she must have spent some time collecting from the dirt on her knees

A fully functioning army grade rifle in perfect condition with a stash of bullets, if you ask how she got them, she just smiles

Pretty trinkets she found in a bin and washed, you may choose one and she's keeping the rest....Fine you can have two since it's your birthday

Someone's deepest darkest secret, you may choose who.

If you complain from a headache or backpain, she offers to heal you and cure you forever. When it doesn't work, she seems annoyed by it and instead offers you some morphine she had stashed away.

A friendship bracelet that she is very proud of making! Makes fun of you if she sees you wearing it. Clara still wears hers.

#♧artemy #artemy burakh #♧daniil #daniil dankovsky #♧clara #clara saburova #the haruspex #the bachelor #the changeling #Pathologic #Pathologic x reader #kinda? it's more fluff #Pathologic & reader #x reader #fluff #Pathologic healers #platonic x reader #♧fluff

[shmowder]

Okay, AroAllo Daniil is lovely, but have you heard about AroAllo Artemy who:

Brings sticky and Murky along on your outings because it's the three people he loves most in the world together.

Takes you home on the second date to show you his bull pet in his backyard. Look at how cool the bull is. Isn't he cool? He'll teach you this steppe song about bulls he likes.

Loves his childhood friends immensely. Hugging, cuddling, and even the occasional forehead kisses for them. His friends are your friends, and he helps introduce you to them.

His sense of commitment and love outweighs all of his morals at times. For someone to be so moved by familial and platonic love that he'd move mountains.

Genuinely enjoys having you over, let's you help him sort through the herbs while he brews the tinctures.

Aftercare with him is very light-hearted in nature. A lazy bliss of basking in the aftermath of relief together, he pulls you closer to his chest. The clean up can wait, what's important is that you're with him here and he wants you drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat.

The kin clearly see how much you mean to him and treat you with the same respect reserved for a Menkhu's spouse. Herb brides are more friendly with you, steppe women include you when gossiping about their neighbours, butchers ask you about Burakh and if you require any help or assistance.

To be with him is to be part of a community that really looks out for its people. Sharing food and helping each other, accepting their differences and quirks.

#♧artemy #artemy burakh x reader #pathologic x reader #♧aroallo Artemy #x reader #♧x reader #♧fluff

[shmowder]

aroallo daniil anon here, I loved the aro daniil hcs <3 anyway inspired by the fact that you can sleep in random beds in pathologic classic: one evening he passes out in your bed and when he wakes up he gets flustered about being unprofessional and imposing on your space more than he meant to, but really you think it's nice that he felt safe enough to fall asleep.

I'm happy you loved it <3

The Bachelor sleeping on your bed

[Daniil Dankovsky x GN!Reader]

[Fluff, Implied AroAllo Daniil]

Between all of his daily errands and responsibilities, time slipped from between Daniil's fingers faster than he could realise it. Staying past midnight and attending to his rotten work come dawn has become nothing short of the norm as of late.

You were the last person to visit on this seemingly endless list of tasks before the day was over, Daniil wanted to run by you a certain theory of his, before the Inquisitor arrives and damns him for failing at his one job. Maybe, just maybe your insight will shift his perspective enough for the puzzle pieces to fall into place.

When he eventually arrived at your accommodations, it didn't come as a surprise to find you absent. Sure, go break quarantine too, why does he care? It's not like anyone listens to him anyway.

... maybe an emergency happened or you were, you know, busy doing your job and also struggling to balance your responsibilities amidst the crushing weight of the falling town on your shoulder... just like him.

Daniil's unusual frustration didn't go unnoticed by him...the stress really must be getting to him.

Sitting down for a while should benefit him. You should come back home eventually, after all, and you're the last job for the day, so what's the harm in waiting for a couple of minutes?

Those couple minutes turned into ten minutes, then twenty and became a half hour. Daniil's struggling to keep his eyelids from closing and posture from slouching the more he waited around.

What possibly could be taking you so long?

In the corner of the room, the sight of your comfortable bed started pulling his line of vision towards it. Eyes gravitating towards the soft looking pillows and alluring blanket.

....

He's not going to fall asleep...he's just...going to rest his legs and sit down.

Maybe just close his eyes too, just for a short while.

He is not falling asleep.

...he's just leaning back, and oh wow, this pillow is really as soft under his head as he imagined it would be.

Hours pass by, and eventually, the sound of a click announces the opening of the door. You step into your room with heavy legs.

You take your mask off, removing the protective clothes and cloak to put aside so you may disinfect it later.

But just as you take a second step inside your room, you're greating with the sight of Daniil Dankovsky, The Bachelor of medicine himself, snoozing on your bed.

Coat still on and everything.

Hugging one of your pillows close to his chest and buring his face into it, while another pillow laid below his by now messy hair. Half the blanket covering him, the other half falling off of the bed.

The floorboards creek below your feet as you step closer, Daniil's body stirrs, lips grimacing in annoyance.

You stay still.

The tension in his body melts again after a passing moment.

making your way towards him carefully this time, you notice the lack of the usual irritated look on his face.

His features looked...soft while he slept, face completely relaxed. It made the bags under his eyes stand out even more.

Picking the blanket off of the floor and covering him with it, you take the chair for the night instead.

The smell of his perfume is subtle through the room, an undeniable scent that people started associating with the bachelor since he arrived into this town.

The chair is uncomfortable below you, the melting candle on the stand gives one final flicker of light.

Before its fire is snuffed out.

Darkness veils the room.

Outside, you hear the faint sounds of footsteps, patrol men walking the streets, occasionally telling off drunks for breaking quarantine. You can't make out the words, but the strict tone is all the same.

If you focus, you can hear the light sound of Daniil's slow breathing with every fall and raise of his chest. The rustling of the sheets underneath whenever he clings to the pillow tighter.

When morning arrive, you're awaken by the intruding sunrays slipping through the glass of your bedroom window.

Back sore as you stand up from the uncomfortable chair, muscles burning in discomfort as you stretch them.

And Dankovsky is still having his beauty sleep on your bed.

As you debate whether to wake him up or leave him be and go about your tasks, his body makes the decision for you.

Sleepy eyes fluttering open, that look of slight confusion as his brain powers up to remind him who he is, where he is, and what he is doing. Recalling his belief system and all of his personal identity and memories in milliseconds as he blinks away.

He takes one look at you, then the pillow between his arms.

And he's immediately off the bed in a second.

Pretending to be busy smoothing down his coat to avoid your gaze, adjusting his messy hair back into a presentable state, only to end up messing it further as he downplays his embarrassment.

Clearing his throat, he finally speaks up

"It seems that exhaustion has gotten the best of me...I apologise for intruding. I was expecting you to arrive sooner, pray tell what took you so long? You are aware of how dangerous this town is at night, correct? And you didn't think to inform me or leave a letter?"

Maybe it's just to cover his own flustration, but he insists on sitting you down on the bed and checking you up for any early symptoms of the plague.

Inquiring about your midnight whereabouts as he stands so close, face inches away from yours while he checks over your pupils for any signs of dilation.

By the end, he does look relieved to find you safe and sound. Still, he's back to the same stiff posture and overworked look of exhaustion he wears every day.

Through all of his fussing, you can't help but think about how relaxed he looked on your bed.

How safe he must have felt, hugging the pillow with your scent on it so close, completely trusting you to eventually come back.

How exhausted he must have been to let his mask of professionalism slip.

Daniil always desperately tried to paint himself as someone more knowledgeable, more reliable, and the voice of reason. Especially in front of you. He never wanted you to look at him and see anything but a dependable doctor you can put your trust in, someone who will handle your problems and bear all the burdens.

Something makes those traits him in shine more around you. How he never asked you for food even when you knew his supplies were running low, how he always gave you antibiotics and painkillers after each meeting, and reminded you to look out for your health more.

Glancing at the protective clothes you set aside, you remember how he was the one who gave it to you. Paid for out of his own pocket and refused any reimbursement you offered, even the courtesy bottle of milk you tried to convince him to drink was rejected politely.

He always insisted that you should have it. You should save it for emergency days. He is a doctor, he will manage.

He knows best.

"I came here to discuss an important topic with you but...Forget it. It's too late now, the train must have already arrived. I'll make a stop here again after the end of my hospital shift today. Just...please don't wander outside too much."

#pathologic x reader #daniil dankovsky x reader #the bachelor x reader #x reader #gn reader #♧AroAllo Daniil anon #♧Daniil #♧x reader

[shmowder]

Hi! I love the way you write, you're a great storyteller! Could you maybe write a little something about how Rubin, Daniil and Artemy would deal with a clumsy reader who often bumps into things and gets hurt? If so, I'd be grateful! I hope you have an amazing day <3

Thank you very much! I enjoy writing stories and telling them. I hope you have a great day, do take care of yourself <3

Dealing with a clumsy Reader

[fluff, overprotectiveness, GN reader]

[Artemy, Daniil, Rubin]

The Haruspex

The first time you've planted face first into the ground when walking up to him, Artemy chalked it up to a trip of fate. The second time, however, he walked faster to meet you halfway and catch you mid-stumble into the paved streets.

Call it intuition, a gut feeling, or whatever you want. Burakh seems to know exactly when to hold you by the arm just before you trip on air when walking together. He saved several obiects from breaking by catching them after they slipped from your fingers.

The two of you are on extreme opposite ends. He mastered his own body to move effortlessly; the precise movement of a surgeon was engraved into him since childhood. Learning to tread delicately despite his size and body, both as a child collecting twyre and making sure not to crush the fragile herbs roots and as a medic in the army where one misplaced step could spell his demise on the battlefield.

And you had the grace of a newly-born fawn learning to walk.

Watching out for your safety on your behalf started developing into one of his many habits, the ones that occur almost unconsciously. He just learned to stand close enough to pull you back just before you could fall into the river because you leaned too much against the rusty railings. His arm hovering around your waist whenever he brings you into his lair just in case he left another sharp scalpel or two exposed on a table.

Lending his aid to you with tasks that require precision. Usually, work around the house, like hanging a picture frame after you accidentally dropped the hammer on your foot or moving furniture and heavy boxes around.

You don't even have to ask him for help, Artemy visits you a couple of times a week to check if you need anything. Sometimes inviting you along on his grocery trips with Sticky and Murky so he gets an excuse to carry your bags and walk you home.

The two kids definitely catch on to your clumsy nature and it's clear Artemy had a talk with them about it when Murky offers to let you hold her doll for protection from bad luck while Sticky grumbles about how a doll won't help and you probably need to wear medieval knight steel armour just to walk around safely.

Sometimes Artemy feels like he should be concerned more, especially since he is finite and won't always be there to pull you away from danger and into the safety of his arms, he won't always be able to stabilise you or pick you up after you fall.

It eats him up at night.

Wondering if you got home safely, if you're eating well, if he's gonna see you tomorrow with a new band-aid on your finger, knees, or elbows.

Maybe you're thankful for his constant help, or maybe you begrudgingly accept it with defeated annoyance. Whatever your reaction may be, Artemy finds himself enjoying looking out for you. A part of him feels guilty for liking the feeling of having you relay on him in certain things.

"I'll take care of the bags, hold my arm instead...STICKY TELL YOUR SISTER NOT TO RUN TOO FAR AHEAD THIS ISN'T A RACE"

♧

The Bachelor

Is the one putting these said band-aids on you.

When he first met you, he was under the impression you were a patient coming to see him. What do you mean by no? You just came to say hello and introduce yourself? Then why do you look like someone who just came out of a brawl with a raccoon and lost? What's with all of these bruises and scratches?

Actually, it doesn't matter. This town is already full of weird people with unusual quirks. Daniil's politely insisting that you must sit down and let him disinfect the scratches, he has plenty of bandages for your brusies, too.

As Daniil works on cleaning you up, he's careful not to press too much on your bruises, asking you if the bandage is too tight or constricting as he wraps it. He gently goes over every painful spot on your body from the smallest of cuts on your fingertips to that painful bruise from twisting your ankle. Cleaning them with a cotton pad and applying the clean bandages afterwards.

Sometimes, he can't believe how one person can manage to get hurt this much in such little time. Other times, he wonders how you even managed to survive without a personal doctor accommodating you each night.

He's already busy at it, but he makes time for you. He's not going to turn someone in need away, especially someone who's hurt to no fault of your own. The human body is stubborn and uncooperative at times. He understands that better than anyone, he doesn't make you bear the blame of your limbs refusing to listen to you.

When he does scold you, it's for not coming to him sooner. An untreated papercut may result in amputation if left infected for a long duration of time. You're not a bother. You have every right to seek medical attention, and he won't turn you away from his door even in the middle of the night.

Ever since, he started carrying more band-aids and disinfecting alcohol in his bag. Each time you meet him on the street while walking around the town, he's stopping to check you over for any injuries, telling you to sit on a nearby bench as he quickly attends to you before leaving afterwards to the meeting with the Kains he's already late to. It's clear to any onlookers how much this town isn't his forte. The more days he spends here, the more symptoms of exhaustion he starts showing.

But there is something relaxing about the simplicity of someone merely asking him to treat their bruises. Finally, someone who isn't asking him to bring them the moon from the sky or solve another mystery murder.

He's delighted to get a moment to himself to take care of you. The more frequent these meetings become the more open and comfortable he becomes with you.

One time, you even heard him actually make a joke that wasn't fully oozing sarcasm from every letter. Friendly banter is rare but not scarce with him. He also enjoys sharing his medical knowledge and teaching you the proper ways to treat a cut in case he isn't around anymore.

If you do ever ask for a specific type of band-aids with colourful pictures on top, he'll throw a sarcastic comment your way about the proven scientific benfits of silly pictures of dinosaurs on band-aids, how he's not a pediatrician and you're being absurd.

He still shows up with the exact type of colourful band-aids you asked for the next day.

"The discolouration is due to the hemoglobins turning into biliverdin. It's a good sign and will go away on its own eventually. Are you feeling good enough to walk home on your own, or should I accompany you? No, I insist, it's far from a bother."

♧

The Warden

Rubin's first meeting meeting with you happened in a grocery store when you accidentally stepped on his foot while reaching for something on a high shelf. You immediately turned around to face him and apologise when you heard his wince but accidentally dragged the shopping cart along, making you stumble forward and step on his other foot.

The two of you ended up falling to the ground in the middle of the store. At least he was under you to soften the blow.

He was strangely calm for someone who just had his legs run over and back slammed against the wooden floor. Awkwardly getting up and acting like nothing happened as he picked up his scattered groceries from the floor.

You saw him staring at you as he internally debated whether to lend a helping hand with your fallen groceries or not. By the time he made his mind, you were already done. Instead, he reached over you to the item you were trying to get on the high shelf and handed it to you.

That memory of this stranger in the store stayed with him for a long while, he'd recall it while brushing his teeth or running errands. With a small town like this, you were bound to meet again.

Eventually, the two of you did. In a vaguely similar manner where your clumsiness resulted in both you and Rubin crashing into each other, with him softening your fall like always.

This time around, he made the effort to learn your name and introduce himself properly. He had an air of apathy around him like he was going through something, as if he lived in his head all the time. Rubin's eyes drifting to the side when the two of you would talk, his clothes looking as if he just threw them on after waking up without a second thought, his reponses to you rarely exceeded a sentence or two. It was very easy to mistake his demnour for his disliking you.

But he didn't. If anything, his legs seemed to take him to you in a beeline whenever he'd spot you around town. The two of you would sit or walk in silence most of the time. He wasn't as quick to pull you away before you bumped into a tree or a pole, but he'd put his hand between you and the hard surface to take the damage instead.

Just by being around you, he was already accumulating more and more bruises by the day. Ones he'd pay in your stead for your clumsiness. He never complained however.

A part of him enjoyed having you fuss over him each time he'd do it. Like that one time, you were about to touch a hot pot on the stove, and his reaction was to pick it up instead and move it away. You showed great concern as you sat him down on your kitchen chair and held a cloth with ice inside to the burn on his hand.

"I'd rather it be me than you, I can handle it."

#♧artemy #♧daniil #♧Rubin #x reader #pathologic x reader #daniil dankovsky x reader #artemy burakh x reader #Stanislav Rubin x reader #gn reader #fluff #♧x reader #pathologic #daniil dankovsky #artemy burakh #stanislav rubin #The bachelor #the haruspex #the warden

[shmowder]

Victor kain appreciation post by that I mean I'm putting him in a fluffy wedding dress and taking him to the altar with me

Victor x reader rambles below? Extremely self-indulgent.

On the surface, he appears pragmatic with a clear head. He's never one to get agitated nor show much emotion. He prefers looking stoic, albeit a bit more lost in his own world than he realises.

Nina did all the heavylifting when it came to Kain's reputation and earned the family a lifetime of respect and fear, which is why Victor got to play the good cop in front of people, despite him encouraging Nina's behaviour. Likewise, he lets Maria roam free.

He loves his kids, but he also doesn't have a strong moral compass as much as Alexander saburov. As long as his kids are safe and sound, following what's right is more of an optional suggestion he gives them. And yet, if they endanger themselves by their own will, Victor isn't one to stand in the way of their own fate. He's logical, but he clearly had a great regard to the mystical world.

A stubborn confident Reader would do well with him. Someone who argues back and doesn't back down. Someone who doesn't fall for his utopian "for the betterment of humanity" facade and instead tell him to shush it and come back to bed.

Oh, but you know how deranged he really is inside. How much he is willing to sacrifice for an idealistic future, the mould of perfection he trims the edges of humanity to squeeze it into.

After all, he fully buys into the promise of immortality Georgiy and Simon gave.

I wanna wife him up so badly, have him happy again, slowly bit by bit. Compared to the rest of the Kains, he shines the dimmest, and it feels on purpose in a way.

Maybe you're a fourth healer, maybe just a side character, or just an isekaied modern reader. What matters is that any act out of the ordinary will definitely catch his attention. He's like a shark in the waters when it comes to new ideas, to innovation and unconventional means.

Surprisingly, a relationship with him progresses rather fast than you'd expect. He doesn't involve you with his family. He doesn't want you to become another cog in the machine. Especially since he knows how perfectly you'd fit into place with that brilliant mind and refreshing worldview, how easy it would be for Maria to charm you or his father to indoctrinate you.

Is he trying to protect you, or is he hiding you out of selfishness? Out of a need to finally have something for himself, someone for himself rather than sacrifice everything for the greater good of humanity.

Spending time together is a bit awkward at first. He isn't much of a talker, and when he does, it is stray thoughts that appear random and unrelated to each other, but in reality they're mere glimpses to the long conversations he has with himself inside his own mind.

However, when you talk, he pays you his full attention. His mind quiets down, and he finds himself...relaxing. It's been a long while since he has felt anything like that.

How much more merciful it is to be lost in another person rather than his own mind.

Victor is thoughtful in his own ways. He remembers everything you tell him, from the small details about a certain snack you missed eating that isn't available in this town, or a compliment you paid to a certain plant you saw on your way here that he makes a mental note to order more of its species to be planted.

One day, you find him sitting on the floor of his house. Hands hug his knees close to his chest as he rests his head against the wall behind, almost making himself appear smaller as he glances at the tall clock next to him.

With nothing else to do, you choose to sit down next to him. Listening to the ticking of the clock, each second passes by seems faster than the last.

Eventually, you feel his head rest against your shoulder. His body leaning against yours, his hold around his knees loosen.

An intimate moment of the two of you sitting side by side on the floor, staring at nothing in particular, listening to the flow of time through mechanical gears.

That marked the day he officially started seeing you as more.

More than just a passing interest, more than just a selfish need to own something beautiful, more than another pawn on the chessboard.

The next day, you find him tinkering with the same clock. He offers to show you inside of it, explaining the parts and how they work. He gives you his tools and guides you through dissemabling the parts before putting them back together, his hand feels cold holding yours.

You see the corner of his lips lift up, resembling the closest thing you've seen him give to a smile.

The two of you seek each other out through the remaining days, being each other's respites amidst the chaos of this town. You clear his head, lighten the burden on his shoulders, and flutter his heart, which he thought died.

Victor enjoys having you rely on him. He enjoys being handed problems and solving them for you. But he is not one to meddle unless asked, and if rejected on his offers, he never takes it to heart. He lets you be your own person first because it was you he fell in love with an not an imprisoned bird in a cage.

And yet, there is a developing co-dependency between you two. If you ever mention wanting to leave the town, he makes it his mission to change your mind. You can be as free as you want as long as you're nearby.

He lived at the Capital for a while and seen its flaws, he will dissect any destination you might have wished to move to and put its flaws on display in front of you.

If you're really determined, he reminds you that he can still reshape the town. Better yet, his family will build another across the river, a more perfected one. You can shape it too if you stay, rule alongside him even.

Just...please remain by his side.

#pathologic x reader #Victor kain x reader #♧Victor #x reader #fluff #♧fluff #♧character study

[shmowder]

Hi, could I request anything Yulia Lyuricheva x reader fluff, please? I've only played P2 if that makes a difference ♡

Hell yeah! I'll base this off P2 Yulia mostly in this case. Honestly she deserves so much love.

Yulia x reader fluffy headcanons

[Fluff, Romance, hurt/Comfort, gn reader]

"A smart person crosses the stream where it's shallowest. But I'm not smart."

Yulia senses fate, or at least she attempts to. The strings of destiny aren't that different from chalked numbers on a board, find the common factors, and fill in the unknown variables.

The rules of probability are absurdly simple, an impossible event equates to zero, a certain event is one, therefore the sum of all probabilities for all possible events is equal to one.

That's why she foresaw your importance in her life upon the first time she's laid eyes on you.

She didn't know why yet, but as she inhaled the burning smoke deep into her lungs to smother the sound of turning gears in her brain, she felt all the possible factors shift in her world.

Not one to swim against the current, she picked her cane as she got up from the chair to walk across the room to you.

The introduction was brief, and her hand grasped yours loosely in a handshake before the grip grew more stable.

Oh.

She understands now why you were presented an anomaly.

Your hand fit perfectly into hers, your touch standing out amongst all of her other senses.

The outside world would quiet down as you spoke.

The fates have decided for her to fall in love that day. Apparently, her turn has finally arrived.

And who was she to resist the turning spindle of fate's thread?

The roads of the town, makings of her own design, seemed to lead her to cross paths with you throughout out the next couple weeks.

The conversations were politely short, but as days progresses, each word exchanged between you two started being weighted with implications of affectionate.

This slow dance was agonising to her.

Yulia wanted to progress things faster, to rush the flow of water so she may arrive at the foreseen destination sooner than later.

Her smoking increased during that period, her restlessness spiking as she spent various nights pacing around the bookshelves in the trammel.

Never one to think with her heart, she failed to grasp on anything but skeptical rationality to act as her aid in these trying times.

Did you not feel the same? Did you not sense the way her posture improved around you? The lingering of her eyes upon your own, lips and neck?

What about the tremble of her fingers? The way her lips pronounce your name with care and precision, not rushing a single letter nor skimming on any of the vowels.

It's easy to predict the future as a bystander when it came to other people, but it was much harder to see the forest for the trees when you were the rat running lost through these seemingly convoluted wooden mazes.

Without her usual deduction to relay on, Yulia felt at her wits end as she wrote you a letter, pouring out the contents of her brain on the off-white pages.

From rushed handwriting and smuged ink, to dents where the metalic tip of the fountain pen was pressed too hard against the fragile paper.

From incomprehensible paranoid theories on why you weren't receptive to outright helpless confessions of yearning for you, of sleepless nights under the cruel apathetic empty vacuum of space above.

She sends it before she changes her mind. If you were meant to leave, you would've done it eventually. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong, Murphy's law.

So she might as well show you the inner workings of her cursed mind early on.

As she leaves the letter in the mailbox to be delivered, her chest feels stuffed with cotton, her arms ragdoll against her side, her heart aches.

The investable sunrise arrives to proclaim the start of a new day.

Yulia is leaning against the wall that's faces the front door to the trammel. Her coat was thrown on the clothes hanger, and the ribbon on her grey cardigan is untied.

The ticking of the wooden clock nearby is getting on her nerves. She considers the logistics of getting away with throwing it in a dumpster bin outside before setting the whole thing ablaze.

...Too unlikely, the Saburovs live a mere bridge away, and Alexander might not let arson slide.

A faint sound of footsteps brings her out of drifting through the abyss of her mind, just behind the door.

Someone's rummaging through their bag, the sound of papers being flipped.

Envelopes to be precise, the mailman no doubt.

Yulia moves closer, catching the letter sliding through the opening in the door before it hits the ground.

Your name is at the top in the sender's box.

And at the bottom, hers is addressed.

Hesitation sinks in the bottom of her stomach before she closes her eyes and forces her hands to move. Opening the letter carefully, unfolding the paper inside.

She takes a deep breath, the fresh air stings her lungs.

The second she opens her eyes, she immediately scans the page whole. Searching through the polite sentences for any hint of rejection, skimming through the pleasantries part to get to the main topic.

Numbers are shifting again, the strings of fate are being stretched thin. Roads are deconstructed and new connections are built.

The letter falls from her hand.

All she can hear is the loud contrasting and release of her heart against her ribcage.

You return her feelings.

It was foretold. She reminds herself, it was written.

But that does nothing to quell the waves of relief washing over her, the adrenaline swimming through her blood fizzling out into ambrosia making her stumble forward as she picks up the letter, head light and filled with stars.

She immediately goes for her hanged coat, picking her cane and walking out the door with little care to the unkept hairstyle she woke up with this morning.

Going straight to your house.

For all the roads in the town will take her there.

That day marks the start of your flourshing relationship.

It's not perfect. It has its ups and downs. Through thick and thin, the two of you make it work.

Yulia picks up her old hobby of playing the cello more and more with you around, enjoying an audience of one as you sit nearby and indulge in a book or a craft.

Romantic words aren't her forte, but physical affectionate is what she can't get enough of.

Cuddling on a warm, lazy afternoon, laying her head on your lap, intertwining your fingers together outside while drinking in the pub or getting lunch.

Especially enjoys buring her face against your neck, the feathery press of her lips against your pulse point. The way her hand rests against your thigh.

Her ideas of dates are usually things she would've enjoyed doing alone and wants to share them with you.

Surprisingly, she prefers having you do the planning and making the chocies when it comes to date nights.

She is fascinated by your mind, why you do the things you do, why do you like the things you like.

You offer her a peak into your world each time you indulge her and prepare for the date or keep a conversation going yourself.

Yulia is very content in observing you being yourself. It's one of her highest forms of entertainment.

Another way she shows love is how she always repairs something in your house whenever you have her over.

Or well, whenever she invites herself over unannounced because she was feeling lonely but want plausible deniability of having a heart.

Fixing that wobbling chair that's giving you trouble, installing the new faucet for the skin you've been putting off.

Even sewing the holes in your favourite clothes in her spare time.

Of course, every action has an equal and opposite reaction, which is why she lays on your lap afterwards, expecting compliments, praise, and for you to play with her hair.

Your hands are her favourite part of you. The way she can hold them, kiss your knuckles and her cheek against the palm.

The way your fingers move through the strands of her hair eases the pain of her migraines. Yulia usually isolates herself in a room in those days, even something as simple as sunlight feels like razors rattling inside her skull. The slightest sound painful on her aching mind.

She is the most difficult to deal with on those days, where the abyss starts whimpering to her back on how doom is inevitable.

All things will end, so what's the point of trying? Everything and everyone is finite.

Even the love you two share.

Be patient with her. That's all she asks of you.

Her nerves can't take much anymore cruelty.

And you are. Waiting for your beloved each time with open arms for her to fall into. Gently reassuring her that you do return her feelings, that the love will still be worth it even if it turns sour in the future.

That she is worth trying for. Fighting fate fore and the world will have to rip her out of the safety of your arms for you to five her up.

And Yulia believes you. having blind faith in someone else's words for the first time in her life.

The two of you would go to bed afterwards, where her body slots perfectly behind yours. Cuddling you close to her chest, arms wrapping around you to keep you close.

Her breathing slows down, her world isn't going to end just yet.

Yulia finds her respite amidst the veins of your heart, curling on herself inside them and shutting the door. Proclaiming the delicate organ for her own, careful mend, and repair every broken shattered part as you hold her whole in the safety of your heart.

"I'm not crying, my eyes are just watering."

#♧Yulia #yulia lyuricheva #Yulia lyuricheva x reader #pathologic #pathologic x reader #x reader #♧fluff #♧hurt/comfort #♧romance #gn reader

[shmowder]

hi I can't reblog your patho x reader smut posts because I don't put nsfw on my blog but I wanted to let you know they're SO good and hot. also choosing to read them as aroallo daniil rep

Thank you so much!! AAAA <3333 I posted them bc of one person's encouraging comment, I didn't expect more people to actually like them, even in secret. Fr tho, even without rebloging, a sweet message like this is all it takes to make writing and posting things worth it.

There wasn't any x reader in Pathologic before so it was a bit intimidating to be the first one to break the seal in a small fandom but fosjofjsjd it was so worth it.

Oh my god, aroallo Daniil sounds amazing. I didn't write it this way on purpose. It was more of me thinking how he might act in these situations according to his personality. I'm so happy he could be interpreted this way! Hell I actually kinda see it now when rereading what I wrote. lmao it's so funny bc I am aroallo myself.

I'd love to expand more on AroAllo Daniil below, your idea is simply gold. As for the Hysteria fanfic, I do have an idea for part 3, I might even post it on AO3 afterwards as a complete piece.

His lack of romantic attraction would explain a lot in general and even in the pathologic story itself. To be capable of love for humanity, just not romantic love for its individuals.

But let's focus more on a "reader" in this scenario and their relationship with Daniil. Caring for you as he would to one of his patients, inquiring about your well-being constantly and if you feel any discomforts.

If anything, he's more fussing over you than he is to the average patient. It's a clear favouritism, but he doesn't see it that way. In his eyes, he doesn't feel anything more special about you than other people he cares about.

Your "dates" are more of him bringing you along on his daily errands and asking for your input or talking shit about the kains with you behind their back.

Your "romantic nights" consist of him going over his research while you get yourself busy somewhere in his room. He is content with just knowing you're there. If you get bored, then he will involve you in his studies, explaining his recent hypothesis to you and mentioning the latest experiments results on animating then 2 weeks old decomposed tissue sample. It helps him remember his purpose, recall information and think with a clearer mind.

But whenever he's frustrated by something in particular or just exhausted from the endless workload in a single day, you find him by your side, mentioning how long it has been since you felt properly relieved and as a doctor it's his job to take care of you.

To get plausible deniability of course, you see he is doing this for your own health and because he cares. Half of it is true, and in a way he technically does get off on taking care of you.

On having you at his mercy laid on a bed, willing to listen to the knowledgeable bachelor who just has the cure for the ache between your legs. You let him take his time with you and he never does something without asking for permission, you're treated with complete respect whilst having surrounded all powers to him to do as he pleases.

His eyes are cold, and his movement is technical, driven by curiosity and fascination. As the act between you progresses and gets more intimate, he doesn't shy away nor act coy. He doesn't feel any difference than when the two of you first started.

But there is an undeniable shine in his eyes, a gleefully fascination of the human body and how beautifully complex it can be, of all of its capabilities. Each time he's on top of you, he's studying your body, carefully testing your reactions and the sensitivity of your intimate zones.

What makes you shudder, what makes you tense uncomfortably, what makes you lean in for more.

Keeping notice of your growing arousal and your different responses to his various approaches. This is how he has fun, this is where he truly feels in his element in a field of possibilities and endless potential, exploring the human body knowing the other person is as enthusiastic about it as he is.

It's like solving a puzzle, the clear satisfaction on his face when you're on the verge of orgasm, the way his own body meets yours in calculated thrusts, the way he keeps his a clinical facade to the whole ordeal while his mask crumbles down to reveal the desperation and hunger in his eyes. For comfort, for your hot insides, for the rush of adrenaline washing over him just before the blissful release, making his forget the ache in his joints and the soreness in his back.

The way the corners of his lips curl in the aftermath is undeniable, his always straight back forgeting its pose and slumbing down in relaxation, hell even his headache is gone.

He looks at you with gratefulness for your existence, for being by his side. He is thoughtful of you and shows it by cleaning you up, by treating your body with gentleness as he wipes it down. In a way, the aftercare is also a huge part for him in sex, it's like the final bow in a theatre act before the curtains close, taking care of you makes him feel alive, makes him remember why he enjoys being a doctor so much.

You're the most grateful and sincere patient he has ever had.

#♧Daniil #♧Smut #♧x reader #Daniil Dankovsky x reader #pathologic x reader #smut #♧Aro Daniil

[shmowder]

So I've been loving your other reader stuff and wanted to discuss expanding the x reader universe with some Stamatins.

I have this one idea, please consider, reader accidently seducing Peter, which causes Andrey to fall hard for reader as well (since I doubt he could ever really love someone who doesn't also love his brother.)

Specifically, I have this scene haunting me, and I'd love to see you expand upon it.

Peter and Reader are at his loft where he's doing figure drawings/painting of Reader. But instead of it being just some sexually charged thing, it's super comfortable. They're laughing and joking with each other. Peter keeps getting distracted bouncing ideas around the room. It's this genuinely sweet and tender moment.

Meanwhile, Andrey is also around watching this all go down. And he's seen muses come and go. Usually, it's pretty or interesting things that catch Peter's eye and are gone just as quickly. But this one is so very different. Genuinely engaging with Peter's ideas. Not some lovesick puppy or someone living in a fantasy. Just a person enjoying spending time with another person.

Hope that was at all coherent? Feel free to get weird. Sfw and nsfw interpretations are valid

Aword

[Fluff, Romance, referenced sexual topics/Alcohol/drugs, Falling in love, Devotion, Codependency, GN reader]

[Andrey/Reader, Peter/Reader, Polyamory]

In which Andrey Stamatin attempts to understand his younger twin's enamoration with you and how it might have started.

Only for him to helplessly fall a victim to your smile.

Andrey Stamatin can recall the exact number of times he has seen a smile on his brother's face in the past year. his fingers were more than enough to count them on; the number kept dwindling with each cycle around the sun.

The seasons would come and go, yet neither of them would blink an eye. Downing a full bottle barely burns the back of Andrey's throat anymore, the smoke rarely stings his lungs, the adrenaline flooding his brain from taking another's life scarcely lasts more than a second.

Peter's smile, however, the chime of his laughter, could feed Andrey's starved soul for centuries. Paint the greys of his world in velvet crimsons and royal blues, gold-like yellows, and sunset bright oranges.

Drugs could only go so far, after all. Various stimulants were sampled and put to the test, yet not a single one managed to match a fraction of the euphoric bliss he gets from seeing his brother gleaming with happiness.

Currently, the source of Peter's unusual fits of passion was laying in an empty bathtub, fully clothed. The same empty bathtub his brother tended to use as a makeshift bed.

Peter always had the most unusual ideas whenever he found himself in a creative rut, attempting to overcome the art block by any means necessary.

Andrey was nothing if not overly indulgent of his brother's fleeting whims.

Not to mention with the very short amount of time Andrey spent inside their shared house, Peter could just easily use his brother's untouched bed whenever the neck pain from sleeping on an oversized ceramic bowl grew too cumbersome. Or so Andrey assumed, he hasn't really checked on his supposed personal room in a long time, he can't even recall what colour the walls were painted with, let alone what type of sheets were laid upon his bed collecting dust by now.

Just how exactly did you weasel your way into Peter's life from under Andrey's nose? The older twin can't help but wonder at times.

Did the two of you meet in one of Peter's bi-monthly trips to stand in front of his beloved paper wooden daughter and simply stare? No. Andrey makes sure to accompany his brother during those trips to the polyhedron.

Maybe it was something absurdly mundane, like in a grocery store or a trip to the tailor? Unlikely, Peter's food is delivered to his front door, and he would rather set his whole wardrobe on fire than wear something touched by amateur hands when it came to sewing.

Andrey witnessed it before when their maid in the Capital sent one of his brother's favourite shirts to be repaired in some no-name tailoring store. Coming home that day to his brother sitting on the front steps of their burning house, grumbling about how the winds keep swaying the flames and messing up the shadows as he sketched the scene of the crime on the few unburnt papers he grabbed on his way out.

It doesn't matter how.

The voices of chatter fill the usually quiet room, light conversations flowing seemingly between you, the art subject, and his brother sitting on a stool nearby, the painter attempting to immortalise your beauty on a canvas.

Because no matter how this miracle happened, Andrey will do anything in his power to make sure it doesn't slip away from Peter's fingers, from his own fingers.

The sunlight phasing through the apartment's window reflected mesmerizingly against your skin, the gentle smile on your face only making you appear more radiant. Andrey's eyes could barely look away from the ethereal view amidst the mundane messy room, from the way your fingers ever so delicately traced against the rim of the bathtub, temptation tugging his heart forward by its strings.

Your air of comfort was infectious, Peter's fingers gliding against the canvas with the brush as he noted every single detail he saw, each colour documenting every feeling passing through his soul.

getting up from the comfortable armchair, Andrey walked over to the middle of the room where the main event was taking place. Resting his chin above his brother's shoulder to take a better look at the painting, the other acknowledged him with a proud look as if to show off his magnum opus.

Peter's put great details in the way the light reflected off of your eyes. The way your body was positioned looked almost an invitation for onlooker to step inside the oil painting and bury themselves into your chest and tuck their their bodies safely inside your heart for eternity.

He could almost feel your lips against his own just by looking at this piece of art.

What did they taste like? a sweet cherry ripened to perfection? A fresh minty finish from your toothpaste? A rich bitter aftertaste from your morning coffee?

Or did you prefer milk? Would his tongue taste a hint of the creamy flavour if he traced the insides of your mouth with it?

Or maybe you had more bite to your bark and a sharp iron taste would overwhelm his senses as your teeth dug into his lips while he shoved his fingers tightened around your neck enough to leave a shadow of discoloration behind.

His biggest mistake was turning his head around to face the real thing. The real view of you laying back with such a relaxed expression despite being in a room with the two most dangerous men in town was more than taunting in his eyes, it was basically a personal offence to carry such a bright smile carelessly in his presence knowing what he is capable of.

Whatever Andrey desired, Peter would overdose on until he developed an addiction. From the first sip of alcohol from a stolen bottle he shared with his brother, to the last person who warmed Andrey's bed only to end up in his brother's for the week.

Andrey would get something, and his younger twin would wordlessly copy him. Andrey would find someone, and Peter would borrow them from time to time.

A silent agreement between the two to always share, that's how it always worked.

Up until now.

Somehow, it was Peter who found you first. Somehow, you've been living under a rock away from Andrey's eyes and reach. A hidden gem that he didn't get to first, despite turning every rock and poking into every crevice in this forsaken town.

Is it jealousy that he's feeling? Is it the burning of envy's green flames suffocating his lungs? Andrey was always the man at the centre of everyone's envy. It will never be the other way around. He rejects those feelings belonging to lesser men, never someone of his status.

No. This is something different, something much deeper. He is above petty envy; he lets Eva roam freely and never looks twice at whose life Maria's ending with a kiss this week.

Or was it simply different because Peter was involved this time around?

Because this isn't mere sex, you're not a stray from a one night stand Peter's taken pity on.

Andrey's not even sure his brother even bedded you yet. The smell of sex simply wasn't in the air, and he would know since Peter never opens the windows to air the room out.

What exactly was your relationship?

The two of you joked and laughed like long-lost friends, knew just how much to push and when to pull back. It wasn't the intense passion of sinful lust burning in his brother's eyes but the budding hope of a lotus blooming after a fresh morning rain.

You've even tried to include him, to infect him with your warmth, reel him in with your innocent smile. You probably weren't even aware of how tantalising you looked with your pure friendly act.

The worst kind of sirens in Andrey's eyes were the ones who weren't aware of their temptations yet. Those ones posed a real danger to his sanity, a real threat to his addictive personality.

Pulling his body away from leaning against his brother, Andrey walked over to you, staring you down as his legs stood uncomfortably close to where your head laid, almost boxing you in.

You didn't look nervous. You weren't the slightest bit intimidated by his towering presence. As if all his muscles were for show, as if his hands, which took lives too easily, couldn't touch you if they tried.

It was suffocating, your heavy presence. The power you held despite literally laying down beneath him, staring up with wide innocent eyes. It made him want to puke his poisoned heart out. It made him want to kneel before you and seek redemption for his sins. It made him want to fall asleep in your embrace.

It made him want you beyond bodily desires, beyond sex and beyond a mere muse to burn in order to fuel his creations.

But he'd never utter those words, for there is no need to. His brother perfectly understood him from just one look, Peter practically guessed what's going on in Andrey's mind during any given moment of the day.

Yet the word for what you are hasn't been invented yet into this world, linguists didn't stumble upon it, scholars never felt it.

How lucky they are to stumble upon a glowing ember of another miracle practically begging to be added to their list of ever growing resume of achievements. A creation in the making.

They did it once with a tower, it's about time they tried it on a living breathing human being.

Andrey loans closer to gaze down upon your eyes, upon his latest invention, still a newborn in its prototype days.

For now, a muse is what you shall be called.

Until the day comes when the whole world learns a word fit enough to name you by. A word both of him and Peter will piece together letter by letter.

#♧Andrey #♧Peter #♧X reader #♧Romance #andrey stamatin #peter stamatin #Andrey stamatin x reader #Peter Stamatin x reader #romance #fluff #pathologic x reader #gn reader #pathologic