#♡pathologic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pencil-n-pen · 3 months ago

Text

REDUCED TO SKIN AND BONE

. ݁₊ ♡ . ݁˖

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buck x people pleaser! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: Pathological People Pleaser- capital P. That’s you. Life is a helluva lot easier when no one can hurt you- not if you never give anyone substantial pieces of yourself. Too bad Evan “Buck” Buckley takes issue with this.

cw: reader is a grade A pathological people pleaser so all the angst and issues that come with that, canon-typical gore/violence (they are firefighters/paramedics)

tags/tropes: coworkers to lovers (hr HATES these two) bobby knowing everything about these two but letting them work it out anyway, team as a family, BUCK IS BOBBY’S KID IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS, also Buck being really sweet and nice (and reader having no idea what to do with this)

a/n: tbh this reader is really just a girl. this fic is extremely inspired by Love Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood, which, my dear followers, if you'll recall, is my favorite romance book ever (!!!!!) also no one say reader isn't realistic bc i based her internal dialogue and worries off of my real life experiences as a recovered people pleaser (there is hope for us)

credit to @bookshelf-dust for the in house arson investigator idea !! super brilliant and perfect !! go read their stuff !!

title taken from Goddess from Laufey!

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‘Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Cause they see right through me//Can you see right through me?

-The Archer, Taylor Swift

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Firefighter Evan “Buck” Buckley confuses you.

You’ve only been with the 118 for about two months. You’d be lying if you said the action and excitement of actually working with the firefighters on calls didn’t excite you to come to work— something you thought you’d never say.

And the team is great. You were nervous as hell at first. Suddenly being out on calls is exciting now, but scary as shit at first. You were much too used to your boring desk job. Plus, the firefighters were all intimidating in their own ways- Hen and Bobby the most.

Hen, because you totally look up to her and admire her ability to just… do whatever and say whatever and not worry what other people think. She holds her head high, and you’re more than a little envious.

Bobby, because he’s your captain, and you need to prove your worth as an addition to the team.

Slowly but surely, you began to solidify your presence as a team member. You aren’t sensitive to the blood and gore they see on calls which definitely won you points with Hen and Chimney, and you aren’t a pushover- you’re willing to put your foot down when push comes to shove. Plus, not to brag, but you’re damn good at your job.

After a month, you’d gotten everything down pat. What’s the right thing to say, what isn’t the right thing to say. What to do so the team trusts you, what to do so they don’t ask too many questions, how to correctly come across to them as a capable person. How to seem normal and well-adjusted and fine. What normal looks like to them.

With the exception of Evan Buckley.

You just… can’t get a read on him. Ever. He’s nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive, like seriously, it’s not even fair) but no one is that nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive.)

You don’t like talking to him because he’s been more than a little sweet on you since day one. And obviously it's not serious and he doesn't mean it, just friendly camaraderie, but. But but but but but. It catches you off guard without fail every single time. Because every single time you talk to him, you get the very distinct sense that he’s looking right though you. That when you’re talking to the rest of the team, perfect smile in place, he can see through you.

It’s more than a little unnerving. It leaves you unsteady and wrong-footed. Like you’re never sure what exactly to say or how to act.

So you mostly just avoid him. You’re thankful that you’re only the arson investigator, because if you’d actually been a real firefighter, avoiding him would be a million times harder. As it stands, it’s fairly easy to do it without being obvious.

Or so you think.

“Is something wrong Captain Nash?” You ask, shutting the door behind you in his office.

Bobby rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you to just call me Bobby.”

“I think the second I do, my parents will appear in the room and lecture me about respect and manners.”

You sit as he gestures, watching with almost perfectly concealed apprehension as he laces his fingers.

“Did Buck say something to you?”

What.

“What?”

“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby clarifies, as if that was the part of the question that needed specification. “I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid him when possible. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that. No one else has noticed.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the admission of being caught.

“How could you tell?” You ask instead of answering his question.

Bobby just shrugs. “I have three kids. This isn’t my first rodeo. Now, you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?”

You’re not really sure you can explain this to him without one, sounding like a crazy person, and two, having him lose all the respect you’ve worked hard to build with him.

You settle for the super abridged version.

“Buck… makes me nervous. I’ve had some bad experiences with men that acted like him before, so. I’m over it, of course, I’m fine he just… sets me on edge a little. I’m not like, afraid of him or anything.”

You are actually afraid of him a little. Because if he really does see through you then what’s stopping him from ripping the current back? Giving everyone a good look into your ugly and raw? What’s stopping him from leaving you exposed?

Bobby hums, contemplating.

“You don’t trust him.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You rush to amend, heart starting to race. Fix it fix it fix it fix it— “I do trust him. I know he’d never hurt me, or anyone else for that matter, he’s a great guy—“

Bobby leans back in his seat. “He’s a genuinely nice guy, and you don’t know how to deal with that, so you avoid him. You don’t trust that he’s genuine.”

Too close too close too close too close—

Smile. Laugh. Look down for a few seconds. Raise head, hold eye-contact. Speak.

“Nothing like that,” Smile. “Just takes some time for a girl to get used to all the facts that tend to come with him. I could’ve done without the one about heart worms before lunch.”

Laugh.

“Oh, you have no idea. Imagine being present when he actually got to assist on a tapeworm removal. I was put off noodles entirely for months.”

Now Bobby laughs, a real one, so you laugh with him, and you feel a little safer, the conversation back in your control.

“I promise, there’s nothing between me and Buck. Just new-girl nerves.”

Flash a smile, appease the man.

“If that’s all, then you’re free to go. Keep up the good work.”

You stand, one hand on the edge of the armrest of the chair to hide the minute tremors in your hand. You hold your breath as you leave Bobby’s office, breathing tiny, quick breaths through your nose until you make it to the safety of your office, closing the door behind you and all but collapsing into your chair.

That was… close. You must’ve let your guard down around Bobby. His personality and dad-aura are so disarming. You hadn’t even realized he’d been watching you that close. He read you a little too easily and a little too quickly. That was too close. What if he had—

A knock on your door snaps you ramrod straight, posture perfect and easy expression snapped into place in seconds.

It takes everything in you not to deflate when you see who walks through the door.

“Buck?”

“Sorry, sorry,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, “I know you don’t like me in here, I’ll be quick. I just need that file from that warehouse fire case?”

You frown as you search your filing cabinet for the case file. “I’ve never said I didn’t like you in here.”

“Yeah, not as much as said as implied.”

“I don’t mind you in here. It’s just an office.”

You’re not sure what he wants you to say. Does he want you to agree with him, tell him you don’t want him in here, make him right? Does he want you to tell him that he’s welcome in your office?

What does he want?

He shrugs in the corner of your eye, hands in his pockets, and you honestly have to physically restrain yourself from staring at the muscles of his arms as they move and tense with the motion. It’s very conflicting: him being the unending source of the late-night fantasies you pretend not to indulge in to fall asleep, hugging a pillow, and the fact that he’s the reason you’ve considered going on anxiety medication.

“…Are you okay?”

You’re abruptly reminded that he’s still in your office and you’re still having a conversation and your grip has at some point turned crushing on the case file.

“Oh, yeah,” Smile, look down, laugh. Look up(?) “Long night last night. Didn’t get much sleep.”

He cocks his head, the action reminiscent of a dog. He really is a golden retriever. You should really stop thinking about Buck so much.

“I thought you went home early last night?”

Your smile wavers.

Laugh(?) put the case file down. Take a sip of coffee, smile(?)

“You know how it is. Work never quite ends at work.”

He doesn’t skip a beat before speaking.

“Why do you do that?”

Something cold starts to drip down your neck. An icy chill of dread.

“Do what?”

“That lying thing.”

Smile? Laugh? Sit down?

Your other hand comes up to cup your coffee. “As far as I know, I don’t have a lying thing.” You huff a breathy laugh, but it comes out wrong. More wheezing and choked than a laugh.

He leans back against the wall of your office, crossing his arms. “Yeah you do. Like, sure, maybe you did have a late night, but none of those expressions or smiles were real. You like, lie with your face.”

You feel cold and hot at the same time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you want this case file?”

“No, you know what I’m talking about. Is it conscious? Is it like code-switching? Nah, this is too—“

“Buck!” You snap, skin crawling, “Would you please just take this file and go?”

He snaps his fingers, pointing at you. “There! That’s real. That was a real expression.”

You forcibly smooth your face out, trying to project the calm you don’t feel. “Me getting annoyed with you?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles a little, a small smile on his face. “Just for a second, you looked real.”

You blink. Pause. Turn his words over in your head.

“You don’t really need this case file, do you?”

“Nope.”

You set the mug down, ignoring the way your tremors increased at your little outburst. “So you just came to what? Get under my skin? Disturb me while I’m working?”

He taps a boot on the floor. “Kind of. It’s my turn to be the man behind, and this beats mopping.”

This time, the flat glare you send him is intentional. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem as rigid as you did a few minutes ago.”

You stiffen your posture on instinct. “It’s called posture.”

“That’s not posture. That’s fear.”

His tone is light and joking, but his words hit their mark. Or maybe there isn’t a mark, and he just stabs your metaphorical bullseye anyway.

You shuffle in place, skin prickling under his gaze. “Is there a reason we’re having this conversation?”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

You stare at your shoes, face hot. This is uncharted territory. The end-all-be-all of terrible conversations.

“Well for one, it’s terribly awkward, and two, I don’t see why you felt the need to call me a liar to my face.”

Buck pushes off the wall. “Okay, that’s not what I meant by that—“

“No, I think you meant what you said.”

He sighs. “Can we start over?”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like you have this misconception about me, and it would really suck if a pretty girl didn’t like me just because we got off on the wrong foot.”

PRETTY?

“You think I’m pretty?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

He smirks, a mischievous thing pulling at his lips. “No, I think you meant what you said.” He says, mimicking your earlier words.

You press your hands into your face, exhaling hard.

“Well, if your goal was to make me uncomfortable, you’ve definitely succeeded.”

“Aw, that’s no good. That’s the opposite of what I wanted.”

The gears in your brain turn.

“You came here… because you wanted me to be more comfortable around you?”

He snaps his fingers. “Ding ding ding!”

You frown. “So your plan to make me more comfortable around you was to call me a liar and purposefully get under my skin?”

Your words hang in silence for a moment.

“Well when you put it like that—“

“Is there another way to put it?”

“The plan was to get you to see that nothing bad is gonna happen if you stop doing that face-lying-thing. I mean, you haven’t been doing it for the duration of this conversation and the world hasn’t ended, right?”

You look away. “That’s because I can’t pretend with you. It always falls apart. You freak me out.”

His brows furrow. “I freak you out?”

“Yes!” You snap whipping your head back to face him, “Other people put out, like, signals, you know. What kind of people they like and dislike, and I pick up on them, and avoid the parts they don’t like and play up the parts they do like. But you don’t put out anything! I don’t know what you want.”

Buck is silent for several moments. It’s unnerving.

“Have you ever considered that maybe I just like you?”

You blink. Look away. Cross your arms.

“You know,” He continues, voice a little softer, “I have a habit of liking people just as they are. Bobby tells me it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Is planning difficult conversations one of your lesser qualities?”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“No.”

It’s easier to focus and talk about the less serious parts of this entire situation than even think about what he just said.

“How about this,” He says after you don’t speak again. “If you’re gonna fake something, or pretend you feel one way about something, you have to come tell me the truth about how you really feel.”

“Well that sounds terrible. What do you get out of it?”

He smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “You agree to let me take you on a date.”

Your face is practically on fire. Evan Buckley is asking you on a date. Buck is asking you on a date.

“Oh.”

That’s all you manage to get out. Oh.

He frowns. “Are you oka—“

You smash your face into your hands, hiding your flushed and flustered face from view. “Just— just give me a second.”

You attempt to slow your racing heart, all to aware of the fact that Buck is still in the room, still looking at you.

“…Can you turn around?”

You hear a quiet little huff, then the shuffling of footsteps, signifying he is in fact no longer looking at you.

“If I’d known you’d be this excited at the idea—“

“Shut up or I’ll say no.”

He just hums, voice teasing. “I don’t think you will.”

“I might.”

“Mm. Nope.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

“I won’t,” You grumble, dropping your hands. “Okay fine, I’ll do it, but when I tell you… stuff, you don’t get to make fun of me for whatever it is.”

“I really think you have the wrong idea of who I am as a person.”

“I’ve seen how you make fun of Eddie.”

“Well, that’s Eddie. It’s like, bro code.”

“Ew.”

“Having friends is gross?”

“Yes. Get out of my office.”

He turns around, grabbing his chest, feigning pain. “Oh the hurt. The pain.”

“You’ll survive, I’m sure. You’re a big boy.”

Okay what the fuck are you saying right now. Can’t god just strike you down? Can’t some old water damage cause the ceiling to come down on you?

Buck takes it in stride, laughing loudly, though if you look close, you can see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“So when are you free for our date?”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively over the word date, and you despise the flush it brings to your face. And ears. And neck.

“Um. Saturday?”

“Cool. You have my number, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll text you the details later this week. And hey, look at me.”

He waits until you look up. “You aren’t allowed to spend the rest of this week stressing about it, okay? It’s gonna be fun, and nice."

He opens the door to your office, ducking half out before turning around. “Remember: fun and nice.”

And then he’s gone. Then you’re just an idiot standing in your office, face hot and tingling.

He called you pretty.

—

Buck's request is difficult to follow through on. Like, sure, you agreed to it, but you still don't really understand why he wants to know this. The things that go on in your head that you don't tell anyone about. He said he got a date out of (a date, you're going on a date with Evan Buckley--) but is that really... anything?

Is it a real date? Or just some little fling? And why, exactly, is the date something he considers a fair trade? Like sure, he's hot -incredibly so- and every time you think about the date your heart speeds up and million questions run through your head, like will he pick you up, is he the type to bring flowers, where are you going for the date, all of those things.

You wince from your spot on the couch upstairs, papers strewn across the table in front of you.

"Dammit," You mutter, holding a finger up to the lip that you've chewed to shreds, now bleeding steadily, blood beginning to trickle down your chin.

A napkin appears in your line of sight, and you take it from Hen gratefully.

"Thanks."

She just nods. "Something on your mind?"

You blink, a little questioning.

"Your lip," She gestures to it. "You always chew it when you're thinking about something troubling. Is this about that new case?"

"Ah," You breathe, a small shiver running down your spine at her words. Being perceived is weird. "No actually. It's..."

You decide to be honest. News will get out anyway, and Hen appreciates truthfullness. "It's about Buck."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You shuffle the papers in front of you, hands itching for something to do, "We're going on a date on Saturday."

"Oh!" She exclaims, settling on the couch across from you. "That's... surprising. I was under the impression you didn't really care for him."

Your face heats. "That's kind of why we're going on the date. He wants to... make me more comfortable. Those were his words."

"Interesting method."

You shrug. "It's Buck."

Hen nods, a chuckle escaping her lips. "I'm guessing you're not so sure about it?"

"It's not that. I just," you debate your next words carefully, weighing the options, wondering if you should even say them, but Hen's face is open and non-judgmental, and she knows when not to gossip.

"I haven't been on a date in awhile," You admit, "Or many at all, really. I don't know what to expect."

Your hands still on the papers. "I... don't do well when I don't know what to expect."

Hen nods. "I get it. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that Buck will do everything in his power to make the date as 'comfortable'," She does finger quotes around the word, "As possible. It took him a couple tries to get here, but. He's got a good heart."

You can't help the small frown at her words. "I know."

Hen tilts her head, squinting. "Do you? Cause it seems like you aren't so sure."

Smile. Laugh.

"Well," You laugh a small, breathy thing. "In my experience, no one is that nice."

Hen snorts. "Okay, true. But Buck's been through a lot. What he may lack in tact he makes up for in earnest effort."

She stands, and levels you with a look you try hard not to whither behind. "Give him a chance. And try not to break his heart."

You smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels. "I'll try not to."

Though I'm not sure he'll be the one getting his heart broken.

Buck is careful not to bother you too much at work. He still sets you on edge in that "I see through you" way of his, but he's right- nothing terrible has happened since your conversation. If anything, he's almost... gentler, in his good natured ribbing and such. He's actually rather attentive.

"Okay," He murmurs next to you at the table, most of the others finished with their food , plates cleared and being washed. "You've got your fake smile on, so spill."

You elbow him. "Cool it, Buckley."

"Great meal, Cap!" You call out to the Captain, who sends you a quick smile from the sink.

You spear a stem of asparagus prepared honestly perfectly by Bobby, and lean over to Buck. "Fine. You really wanna know?"

"Uh, yeah."

You take a huge bite, smiling as you swallow. "I hate asparagus."

Buck's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious? That's such a small thing to care about."

You glance up to ensure nobody's eavesdropping. "Bobby works really hard on everything he makes! I don't want any of it to go to waste or to seem unappreciative."

"Okay, we're really going to have to have a talk about your perception of everyone," He elbows you back, "Come on. Bobby would not be offended if you don't eat the vegetables because you don't like asparagus period. It's not like you're even saying you don't like his cooking!"

You take another bite. Only A few left. "Better safe than sorry."

"Stop eating them--"

"I have to finish them!"

"Something wrong over there?" Bobby's voice rings out over the kitchen.

"Nope!" You call back.

"Actually," Buck starts, ignoring your furious elbowing, "Our little investigator over here doesn't like asparagus."

Bobby tilts his head with a smile. "Why didn't you say something?"

Your stomach lurches. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-- "I... didn't want you to be offended?"

"Why would I be offended that you don't like asparagus?"

"Because you cooked it?"

He shakes his head. "Not how things work around here. If you don't like something, you don't have to eat it."

Your face feels like it's on fire and your palms are sweating and you kind of feel a little nauseous. But that might be the asparagus. "Right. Okay. Thanks."

Bobby goes back to loading the dishwasher, and the others are no longer paying attention, so you lower your forehead to the table, grateful that Buck moves your plate away before your head can meet your now unfinished vegetables.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because asparagus is a dumb thing to be worried about," He says, voice light and cheery.

"It was a valid concern," You mumble.

"Maybe in your head. But not quite in reality," He rubs your back consolingly a few times, though all the action does is rile you up more. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you're still sitting here and you actually can't see if the others are still looking and oh god maybe Bobby is upset because you're an adult, you should've known that and--

"I can physically feel how tense you just got."

Oh. Right. His hand is still on your back.

"Relax," He drags out the word, his voice low and deep, "No one is going to spontaneously hate you. I sure don't."

"You don't count."

"Mm, how come?"

You're glad your face is currently hidden by the table, because you flush when you mumble the next words.

"Cause you think I'm pretty."

"I do," He amends, "But I'm not sure that discounts my opinion. IF anything, it doubles it."

"That's not how that works."

"It's not?"

"No."

He leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Prove me wrong, then."

Saturday approaches and your anxiety increases. Buck had in deed texted you the details -which did, actually, make you feel better, knowing a bit of what to expect and having it in writing.

When Saturday arrives and the clock inches closer to the time he said he'd pick you up, you start to question if any of this was a good idea.

Everything collapses when you have to pick an outfit. Nothing seems right- everything is either too much or not enough. You blink the tears out of your eyes because you spent too long on your makeup to ruin it, and Buck's gonna be here soon and you need to just pick something--

A knock sounds at your door and you gasp. Shit.

You rush to the front door, and wrench it open.

"Hi I'm so sorry I'm not ready yet- oh my god are those flowers?"

Buck takes the rush of words in stride, smiling and holding the bouquet out to you. "They are."

You take the flowers with reverence, the gentle, floral aroma soothing your senses.

"Are... you okay?"

You blink, not realizing that tears had begun to well up in your eyes again. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm a little... frazzled."

His gaze darts down. "Is that why you don't have pants on?"

You're almost one hundred percent sure you burst into flames right then and there. And if you don't, you seriously hope you do.

"Oh my god- don't look, I'll be right back, uh, please come inside and close the door!"

You race back into your room and shut the door, throwing on the closest pair of pants- which happen to be the fuzzy, old, candy heart-print pajama pants you took on three hours ago when you started getting ready.

You step back out, now sporting a wonderful outfit consisting of your black, rather nicely fitting going out top and fluffy pajama pants.

"I'll be ready in about fifteen minutes, sorry about the," You pause, swallowing your embarrassment, "Lack of pants."

He chuckles, laughing that nice little Buck laugh that settles your nerves a bit. "Hey, I wasn't complaining. I asked for the real you and this has all been very real."

Your never-ending flush revives itself as he speaks. "I"m really sorry, I'm usually more put together than this, I promise."

He takes a step toward you. "Remember why we're going on this date?"

A beat passes.

Buck takes another step. "To make you more comfortable with me. And the team, but mostly me."

You laugh a little, a nervous thing.

"But you don't seem very comfortable right now." His hands rise to the your waist, sliding down to your hips.

"Sorry," You say on instinct.

He huffs. "Still don't think you're getting the point of this. Okay, what was the big stressor of tonight, besides the actual date part?"

You look down at your feet. "My outfit."

"Well," He says, squeezing your waist and very clearly enjoying the little squeak you let out at the action, "Then why don't we sollve that by..."

Your heart siezes. Oh god, you're not ready to sleep with him, you haven't had your everything shower because it was only the first date and you didn't think--

"...Staying in tonight? I can order some takeout and we can watch a movie."

Oh.

"But your reservation--"

"Can be called and cancelled," He soothes. "I only want to do things you're comfortable with. That was the whole point of this date."

Later, after you both stuffed your faces with takeout graciously ordered by Buck, and both of you cuddled up on the couch (!) you let yourself speak.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Sorry for freaking out earlier," You curl your arm around his bicep, face smashed into the side of it while you (pretend) to watch the movie. "Thanks for... this. And the flowers."

"You really like those flowers, huh?"

"Mhm. They're really pretty. No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

"What? No way."

"Well. I haven't ever gotten flowers from a date or boyfriend," You stumble over the word boyfriend, "But like, you know. Graduations and stuff."

"Guess we're going to have to fix that, then."

"We are?"

He raises a brow. "You didn't think I was gonna stop at one date, did you?"

"Well it was kind of a mess."

He shrugs. "On one of my first dates, I choked on bread and my date at the time had to perform a tracheotomy with a ballpoint pen."

You gape at him. "Those are real?"

He traces a finger over the thin, silver scar on his throat. "Yep. So trust me, this date turned out fine. I actually uh,"

He flushes a little, a dusting of red on his cheeks. "I actually really enjoyed tonight."

You chew your lip, nervous and scared but all the sudden deciding that you're going to get over yourself and do something. No matter how small.

You stare at the end credits. "You wanna watch another movie?"

"Absolutely. More takeout?"

"I don't know how you can even think about eating more. But I do have popcorn in the pantry."

He presses a quick, soft little kiss to your cheek. "Perfect."

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sorcerous-caress · 1 year ago

Text

I'm so jealous of Daniil. Having only played the Haruspex route so far in both game, each time I'm invited to the Bachelor's place I turn green with envy at how he resides at an actual proper house with a real room and a real bed.

A real bed with a whole bedframe. A pillow with an actual pillowcase!! His bed even has sheets!

He has WINDOWS. His house is in a nice neighbourhood, and his roommate is a very attractive woman. There is actual furniture in his room. Not one hint of fungus growing on the walls or rust!

Can you imagine living there as your lair? Spending the whole game knowing you have a real house with a real bed to go back to at the end of each night? Seeing Eva's face every day before leaving to do quests?

Meanwhile, Artemy is stuck in this dumpster room of an abandoned factory. Cuddling with rats on his makeshift bed, held by nothing but a wooden panel, some boxes and a dream.

A pillow so yellow it has its own ecosystem where bugs established real estate. Is that even a pillow or is it some random rock Artemy found and chucked in there? Is it a stale loaf of bread?? Why is it hard looking?

But no, you don't even get to keep the rock roach pillow because in P2, they take it away.

Fuck you Artemy, you had it good for too long. No pillow now because what are you gonna do about it?. Fold your mattress instead to have a resemblance of a faux sense of protection under your most vital organ during the long hours of death rehearsal that you call sleep.

Somehow, they made the bed even more unstable looking. As if that thin panel in the middle could hold Artemy's weight without caving in. Oh, and apparently, I ran out of boxes to use for furniture because the bed and the table have to share custody of the same box.

We have downgraded into barrels now, as you can see :) No, I don't know what they used to contain inside.

Waking up every day to Sticky's snotty face telling me not to spit in the wind and nagging me about cleaning up the week-old human organs thrown around that are stinking up the place.

THERE IS MOLD GROWING ON MY WALLS. RUST FLAKES FALL FROM THE EXPOSED METAL PIPES DOWN INTO MY CEREAL EACH BREAKFAST.

This single wall holds so much mold and fungus that they started crossbreeding and evolved into new, never seen before types of bacteria. Satan's asscrack is more hygienic than whatever biohazard plagues of Egypt this slab of concrete contains.

I live in the gutters. My only neighbours are an illegal gang of minors with a hatred for furries and another illegal gang but of adults this time who sell me bullets way above the market price. A dangerous neighbourhood where you can't have shit because SOMEONE STOLE MY BULL.

The basement I reside in has no windows, the smell is pungent and fucking vile down here. There isn't even a space for a bathroom.

This is my kitchenette/bathroomette/showerette/cupboardette/surgery tools disinfection stationette/sinkette/watercoolerette/toilette/fridge.

also my buckets yk.

One bucket for the makeshift bathroom, another for holding important organs and loose guts during surgery, a third one as a cooking pot for making tasty meat grub soup and the final one for murky water after sweeping the floor.

What do I use to tell them apart? Oh nothing :) I just mix em up every now and then, oppsie daisy.

Oh and the floors are CONSTANTLY wet for some reason. Yeah sticky slipped and almost broke his neck the other day so watch your steps.

There is also this eerie room with literal garbage and broken furniture right next to the entrance. Don't worry about it, sometimes I hear someone crying and screaming for help when I'm trying to go to sleep but it's just the factory being silly lol.

Now this? This is where the M A G I C happens. This is where Artemy the Menkhu makes his famous herbal remedies and natural mixtures. This is where the Panacea for the infamous sand plague gets made!

In a rusty empty food can.

Falling into a bucket with shit stains.

MEDICINE BABBYYY. GET YOUR WEAK SOFT BONED ASS BACK TO THE CAPITAL BITCH, THIS IS HOW REAL MEN MAKE REAALLL MEDICINE!! RAWRRRRR🦅🦅💥💥

Meanwhile, dickovsky has the view of the cathedral and polyhedron just around the corner from where he resides. He has a backyard with a lake, and all I have is a swamp behind my basement. I trudge through the mud each night, collecting weeds and herbs to mix and trade so I and the two orphans who adopted themselves into my life don't go starving.

Not to mention the gaggles of herb brides loitering outside and giving me a false bad reputation.

That dandy douchbag has a pharmacy, a grocery, and a tailor right next door. The closest establishment to my shrekcore place of resident is a dingy basement bar with shady drinks and no bouncer to check for ID, I saw two kids in there once.

Pov: a qt3.14 surgeon says his dad isn't home and invites you over.

#♡otherfandoms #♡pathologic 2 #♡pathologic #artemy burakh #daniil dankovsky #pathologic 2 #pathologic classic hd #the haruspex #pathologic

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jijournal · 1 month ago

Text

I SEE YOU | H.P

Summary: As a Muggle-born Hufflepuff, you were taught to always be kind—even when it hurt. Years of people-pleasing left you exhausted and invisible, until Harry Potter reminded you that your worth isn't tied to how much you give. Now, you're learning that kindness includes being kind to yourself too.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Angst but a happy and comforting ending. Muggle-born!hufflepuff!reader x Harry Potter

A/N: Let's just say that I'm a people pleaser as well. Hope everyone loves this! 🫰

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"Yes, I understand—he shouldn't have done that to you." "WHAT?! Aww, come here. You don’t deserve that." "Oh! Here, let me help you!"

Those were the kinds of words that always left your mouth. They slipped out so naturally, it was like breathing. Because as a Hufflepuff, everyone just expected you to be nice.

The nicest person, really—because that’s what your house is known for.

When you first walked through the towering doors of Hogwarts, wide-eyed and unsure, all the other kids your age were whispering about which house they might end up in.

Gryffindors were brave. Slytherins, cunning. Ravenclaws, smart. And Hufflepuffs? They were nice.

Nice. Kind. Generous. Gentle. Compassionate. Loving. Sympathetic. Every kind-hearted word you could think of, wrapped up in a yellow and black scarf.

As a Muggle-born with no real knowledge of the wizarding world, you followed the rules like they were gospel. So when the Sorting Hat placed you in Hufflepuff, you didn’t question it—you just assumed this was your role now.

Be nice. Always.

Even to the ones who didn’t deserve it. Even to the ones who made fun of you. Because your eleven-year-old self truly believed that’s what being a Hufflepuff meant.

You slipped into the role easily after a while. Too easily. You became the dependable one. The fixer. The one everyone turned to when they needed a kind word or someone to sit with.

You learned how to soothe others, even when you didn’t know how to soothe yourself.

You gave everyone your sympathy.

Everyone but you.

In short—you became a people pleaser. A pathological one.

You didn’t love it at first. But it grew on you, like a second skin. One you forgot how to take off.

It started your very first week at Hogwarts.

You and Susan Bones had only just become roommates. She was usually chatty, warm, always smiling—until that one evening when she returned to your dorm with red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands.

“Susan... What’s wrong?” you asked gently, startled by the change in her.

She didn’t answer right away. Just sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the crumpled letter in her hands.

Finally, in the smallest whisper: “It’s my mum. She sent a letter… My dad’s in St. Mungo’s right now.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart aching at the tremble in Susan's voice. You had only known her a few days, but the pain in her eyes struck something deep in you—like a string inside you had been plucked.

Without thinking, you moved across the room and wrapped your arms around her, gentle but firm.

“Oh, Susan… I’m so sorry,” you murmured, letting her cry quietly into your shoulder. “That must be so scary. Do you want to talk about it? Or… or maybe just sit here for a bit?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do… What if he—what if he doesn't make it?”

You pulled away just enough to meet her eyes, brushing away a tear from her cheek with your sleeve. “Hey, listen to me. You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here. And I’ll stay right here as long as you need.”

Her bottom lip wobbled, and more tears spilled down her face. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut in gently but firmly, your voice soft but steady. “You're my friend. And when my friends are hurting, I don’t just walk away.”

That night, you stayed up late with her, even after the lights went out. You whispered small jokes to make her smile, told her stories from your Muggle school days just to distract her for a while. You offered every piece of kindness you could find in yourself, until she fell asleep curled up in bed, breathing more evenly.

And that was the beginning.

From then on, it became second nature. A classmate tripped and fell? You were the first to rush over. Someone looked lost during a lesson? You offered your notes before they could even ask. A younger student cried in the hallway? You’d sit beside them until they could smile again.

Everyone saw you as the Hufflepuff stereotype—so sweet, so caring, so good.

But no one ever asked if you were okay.

No one ever noticed when you cried quietly into your pillow at night, wishing someone would see past the smile.

But that was okay… wasn’t it?

That’s just what Hufflepuffs were supposed to do.

Or at least, that’s what you believed.

It happened during your fourth year.

You were walking back to the common room late one evening when you spotted a first-year Slytherin huddled against the wall of an empty corridor, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. You paused, the sight tugging at something deep inside you—the same ache that always stirred when someone was in pain.

Without hesitation, you approached him. Carefully, you lowered yourself into a crouch so you could meet his eyes, your voice soft with concern.

"Are you... okay?" you whispered gently, hoping to comfort him.

But instead of opening up, he looked at you with pure annoyance—like your presence was somehow making things worse. His expression twisted into a sneer.

"Does it look like I'm okay?" he snapped.

You flinched at his tone, caught off guard. “Oh! Well, no! No… of course not,” you stammered, unsure how to respond.

He rolled his red, tear-streaked eyes and scoffed. “What a dumb Mudblood, as expected.”

You gasped, stunned by his words. “Excuse you? That wasn’t a nice thing to say, young man.”

“Whatever, Mudblood. Stop trying to be perfect all the time. Get a life!” he shouted, then turned his back on you and stormed off, leaving you frozen in place.

You stood in the middle of the empty corridor for a long while after the boy had disappeared around the corner. His words echoed in your ears, sharp and cold like the breeze that sometimes blew through the castle's drafty halls.

“What a dumb Mudblood.” “Stop trying to be perfect all the time.” “Get a life.”

You swallowed hard. Your throat ached like you’d just been hexed, but there were no spells—just words. Words that cut deeper than any jinx ever could.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. But instead, you just… stood there. Frozen. Because deep down, he had said the one thing you were too afraid to admit to yourself:

You were trying too hard.

You always had.

Trying to be nice. Trying to be good. Trying to be the Hufflepuff everyone expected. You convinced yourself it was the right thing to do, that being selfless and kind would make you worthy. That if you gave enough, if you were helpful enough, maybe people would like you. Maybe they’d keep you around.

Because what if… what if you stopped? What if you said no? What if you stopped offering your heart on a platter to everyone who walked past?

Would they still care?

Would anyone?

It was your fifth year when you joined Dumbledore’s Army.

Of course you did. The second Hermione mentioned it, your hand shot up. You were always the first to volunteer. Not because you were particularly brave or daring—but because it felt like your duty. Your unspoken job. Be the helper. Be the healer. Be the one people could rely on.

So when practice started, and people needed someone to test spells on—Disarming Charms, Stunning Spells, even minor hexes—you always stepped forward.

“I’ll do it.” “I’m fine!” “No really, it didn’t hurt!” "Try again—harder this time!"

Your voice became a script. Your smile, a mask. Your bruises—well hidden. You were covered in little aches and sore spots by the time the snow started falling outside.

But no one noticed. Because you were always okay. Always smiling. Always kind.

Until Harry did.

One evening during practice, when you got flung back by a particularly strong Stunning Spell from Ginny, you hit the ground hard. People laughed nervously, “Blimey, sorry! You alright?”

You sat up quickly, rubbing your shoulder with a tight smile. “I’m fine. Really—just a bit off balance.”

Everyone chuckled and moved on.

Except Harry.

He didn’t laugh.

Instead, he walked over quietly while the others paired off again. He knelt beside you as you tried to stand, gently placing a hand on your arm to steady you.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” he said, eyes searching your face. “You don’t have to let yourself get hurt just to be helpful.”

You blinked at him, startled. “I—I’m okay. Really. I don’t mind—”

“But I do,” he interrupted softly, but firmly. “I see how often you volunteer. I see the way you flinch sometimes when you think no one’s watching.”

Your throat tightened.

“I see you,” he said. “And I just… I think someone should remind you that your happiness matters too. That it's okay to put yourself first.”

You looked at him, eyes stinging suddenly.

Harry offered a crooked smile. “You’re allowed to take up space. You’re allowed to rest. You don’t have to earn love by setting yourself on fire to keep everyone else warm.”

You didn’t know what to say. For the first time in years, someone saw past the smile.

Saw you.

Really saw you.

And in that moment, something inside you cracked open—not broken, but healing. Slowly. Like sunlight through fog.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. But Harry just gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

And for once, you let yourself be comforted. Not because you had to… But because you needed to be.

You didn’t talk much the rest of that meeting. But Harry stayed close.

When practice ended and everyone began to pack up, you felt a strange pull in your chest—not quite sadness, not quite relief. Just… something new. Something that said maybe, just maybe, you were allowed to feel something other than helpful.

That night, back in your dormitory, you didn’t offer to help someone with their Potions essay. You didn’t give your last Chocolate Frog to a roommate who “needed a bit of cheering up.”

Instead, you lay in bed and thought about Harry’s words. Replayed them over and over again like a spell you were trying to master.

“You don’t have to earn love by setting yourself on fire to keep everyone else warm.”

You hadn’t realized how tired you were until then.

The next DA meeting, something changed.

When Hermione asked for volunteers to practice Stunning Spells again, your hand didn’t go up.

You braced yourself for the awkward silence, the disappointed looks, the "What’s-wrong-with-you?" stares.

But no one noticed. Not really. They just moved on.

And you sat down beside Harry, your arms wrapped around your knees, your heart pounding in your chest. Not from fear—but from freedom.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, nudging your shoulder.

You gave him a soft smile—real, this time. “Getting there.”

He smiled back. “That’s all anyone can ask.”

Over the next few weeks, you started changing in small, quiet ways.

You still offered to help—but only when you wanted to.

You started saying no when your heart wasn't in it.

You cried once, in the bathroom, when someone made a snide remark about Hufflepuffs being “just there to cheer the others on” but this time, you didn’t spiral into a need to prove them wrong.

You just let yourself feel, and that was enough.

You still wore the badge of kindness, but now it wasn’t armor—it was a choice.

And Harry? He stayed.

Sometimes you studied together in the common room. Sometimes you walked to DA meetings side by side, not saying much, just… existing together. Like he was quietly telling you: You matter. Even when you're not fixing things.

There was one evening near the end of the year, after a DA session, when he caught you lingering behind again, cleaning up parchment and putting away cushions.

“You don’t have to clean up every time, you know,” he said, teasing gently.

You grinned. “Old habits die hard.”

Then, more seriously: “But I’m learning. It’s… hard. I still feel like if I’m not helping someone, then maybe I’m not enough. Maybe I’m not worth liking.”

Harry looked at you with something soft in his eyes. Something kind.

“You’re not liked because you help. You’re liked because you’re you.”

You blinked. Your throat tightened again, but this time you didn’t push it down.

Instead, you let it rise.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He nodded. “Anytime.”

And that’s where things started to shift. Not instantly. Not dramatically. But slowly.

You were still kind. Still a Hufflepuff. Still you.

But now, you were learning to be kind to yourself too.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

#jiraen writes 🍃#harry potter #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #light angst #harry potter heavy angst #angst #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #hufflepuff!reader #muggle born!reader

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chiwhorei · 2 years ago

Note

You're the only one who I can go to talk about stepdad!Erwin and I need you to tell me how nasty you think he'd be

◣ Nɪɢʜᴛᴄᴀᴘ ◥

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Tags: shortform, drabble, NSFW, stepcest, cheating, stepdad!Erwin x fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Notes: you asked me what my thoughts were and then I went off script. This is dedicated to the OG stepdad!Erwin fucker @lady-lauren without Lauren, I wouldn’t even know this mfer. ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡

Erwin is a measured, patient, unwilling to admit that he wants to fuck his step-daughter kind of guy.

He married your mom out of duty more than anything, two wealthy families consolidating assets, but his new wife came with an unexpected bonus. You. ‧₊˚* ੈ✩

You make him feel.. important. The way you look up at him, how you’re so interested in his work, how you ask him for advise. He treats you so differently than anyone else does, like a celebrity, like a god.

His wife can’t satisfy him, it’s not her fault really. He has to bite his tongue until it bleeds so he doesn’t accidentally call out your name. Every thought in his head is clouded by visions of what you’d look like under him, on top of him, kneeling in front of him…

Erwin fucks your mom loud in the next room, partially to vent his frustrations, mostly in hopes that you’re listening. You are, every time.

There’s only so much your stepfather can take, only so far he can be pushed before the switch flips and he’s no longe run control of his own pathology.

That break comes the weekend you’re mom’s away. You haven’t been too overt with your own desire, but the tension is gnawing at you all the same.

Erwin comes home to the smell of you cooking dinner, his favorite meal. He mentioned it to you in passing months ago. You serve him, you pour him wine, you listen to your stepfather talk about his day with a saccharine smile.

Erwin feels those last shredded threads or resolve popping, but that night, when you leave your bedroom door wide open for him to find, those horrible nasty icky feelings he’s got for the daughter of his wife finally hit with their fullest force.

You beckon your stepfather with a crooked finger, offering him a nightcap in between your spread legs. He shouldn’t, but he’ll indulge himself in the sweet lips of your pussy and the supple fat of your breasts.

He’ll fuck you like he’s sapping the youth from your soul. He’ll cum deep inside like you ask him to. He’ll succumb to the hell waiting for him, walk into the darkness when it tolls as long as he gets to fuck you like this until then.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚

#erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin smut #erwin smith smut #aot x reader smut #aot smut #ask.dollie #secret.dollie #tw.stepcest

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sheinafran · 8 months ago

Text

I want to post this without pinning it down like pathologic fest, but this is the art to it. Its so perfect for me ♡

#art #мор 2 #мор утопия #artists on tumblr #digital art #рисунок #pathologic #даниил данковский #бакалавр #daniil dankovsky #bachelor dankovsky

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saturn-wisteria · 4 months ago

Text

There you are...

You can call me Lina! (she/her/Ravenclaw)

I write. I daydream. I yearn for love stories and happy endings. This is how I ended up here.

This is the growing library of my stories—completed works, WIPs, longfics and one shots. I write SFW and NSFW (MDNI).

All stories are part of the same universe featuring the same characters. These are the pairings I love so much it hurts:

❥ Sebastian Sallow / Carolyn Morgan (FMC, Gryffindor Player Character)

❥ Ominis Gaunt / Phineas Black (MMC, Slytherpuff, canon-ish but mostly an OC)

All my works are published on AO3 and Wattpad, and you can also find me on Discord (mostly active on the OHL server) and Tiktok!

Below is the masterlist of stories & art commissions.

All sorts of interactions are appreciated ♡ I'm a pathological comment replier

Chronological Fic Order guide:

Main Fanfiction Works:

Take Me To The Lakes

COMPLETE | 35k words | Ominis Gaunt / Phineas Black | Mature

Childhood Friends to Enemies to Lovers; Forced Proximity; Grumpy Sunshine; post-game events. All-time readers' favourite and I recommend you start here ♡

Full story + summary & tags on AO3 | Wattpad

Epilogue one-shot on AO3 | Wattpad

commissioned art (middle) by vienguinn

I know he's rolled on his side because though his voice is low, I can hear it closely, right in front of me. Too close. He says, "Don't you want to put a face to the person you hate so much? So you can have a clear picture of me while you think about all the loathing?" As if I need to know what he looks like when I already think about him all the time. "Putting a face to it would only make it harder." "Make what harder?" He chuckles faintly at his own joke, but I can hear right through him. The hesitant, insecure, and vulnerable boy I once knew is still there. "Harder to hate you." Grasping my wrists, he traps my hands between his face and his palms. "Let's make it worse, then."

If I Loved Him Any Less

Ongoing (~50%) | ~30k words | Ominis Gaunt / Phineas Black | Explicit

Developing Relationship; All the firsts for Ominis; Grumpy Sunshine; say gex but oh so much emotion because Phineas is hopelessly in love; Phineas' POV

The story about the 40 days of smut summer after their first kiss (between Chapters 4 and 5 of "Lakes")

Can be read as a stand-alone about devotedly yearning, frequently undressing, gradually confessing and passionately f*cking.

Full story + summary & tags on AO3 | Wattpad

commissioned art (middle) by stein0806

I stop devouring his neck and shut my eyes to think. Ominis has never done this before, whatever this is. He must be so overwhelmed—we just kissed for the first time a few hours ago, it's not like we are ready to f*ck tonight. (As much as I desperately want to.) There's still a lot to happen in between. Like, for example, there are so many questions I want to ask first: Is this really happening? Minutes ago, when he said his feelings for me were deafening, did he mean it? Is my heart allowed to burst out of my chest, or is this, whatever this is, just a fleeting thing induced by the heat and carefreeness of summer? Does he want more? As in, does he want to keep doing this for, like, the rest of our lives? Does he want to live by a lake one day, or would he prefer the sea? What are his thoughts on children? Is it alright if I call him my love, or sweetheart, or just Ominis? But asking any of those questions would be too awkward. I ask the only sensible thing possible. "Can I blow you?"

Timeless

Ongoing (~80%) | ~150k words | Sebastian Sallow / Carolyn Morgan | Explicit

real Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, arranged marriage, Amortentia, plot twists, all the 'firsts', dual POV

Full story + summary & tags on AO3 | Wattpad | TRAILER (VIDEO)

commissioned art (middle) by vienguinn

I heard Natty entering the dormitory, and the sound of her steps grew louder as she got closer to me. "The moon is beautiful tonight..." I breathed out. She leaned by the window, attempting to make eye contact. "I know dreamy eyes when I see them, Carolyn," Natty mocked. I blushed. "Do you think he knows, Natty? How I feel about him?" I grabbed a pillow and held it close to my chest. "Well... I surely hope he does. The endless letters during summer. The excessive amount of time you spend together. That canvas right there he gifted you. Honestly, I am surprised you two are not dating yet." "The canvas?" I glanced at the Iceland painting and wrinkled my nose. "Oh no... I am definitely not talking about Sebastian Sallow." She tilted her head to the side, lifting one eyebrow. "What? Who are you talking about, then?" "Natty..." I breathed out heavily. "I... I fell for him." I gazed at the moon again. "I am in love with Ominis Gaunt."

One-Shots Collection:

❥ Anne’s Every Flavour Biscuits

3.2k words | SFW | AO3 | Wattpad

Aroace!Anne, Coming Out story, Ominis Gaunt gives a hug

Anne Sallow has always felt different. What was supposed to be just a cosy evening baking shortbreads with a new special potion becomes the first time she feels seen (not literally, though, when it comes to her best friend, Ominis Gaunt).

❥ But Daddy I Love Him (You Should Have Seen Your Faces)

3.5k words | Ominis Gaunt/Phineas Black | NSFW | AO3 | Wattpad

Exhibitionism, P in M and A (say gex), Daddy Issues

Headmaster Black is dead, but it's not too late for his son, Phineas Black, to come out of the closet and make him proud with the help of Ominis Gaunt.

❥ Save a Candle, Blow a Wizard

3.2k words | Sebastian Sallow/Carolyn Morgan | NSFW | AO3 | Wattpad

Birthday boy!Sebastian, Deepthro@ting, nsfw art here

Sebastian's birthday was a day full of activities that his girlfriend Carolyn planned for him. She knew how to make him happy and indulged him with a birthday present of his choice.

❥ Sebastian Sallow Is Not Scared of Snakes

2.8k words | Sebastian Sallow/Carolyn Morgan/"Boggaunt" | NSFW | AO3 | Wattpad

cuckhold, voyeurism, inappropriate use of non-beings (?), crackfic, readers' favourite lol

There is an intruder at the Sallow’s Manor. Sebastian experiences a twisted new type of rage as his biggest fears are put to the test. Is he jealous of the unexpected visitor, though? Or, Sebastian watches a boggart shapeshifted as Ominis f*ck his wife. And he enjoys it.

❥ Two Sebastians Are Better Than One

3.4k words | Sebastian Sallow/Carolyn Morgan/Sebastian Sallow | NSFW | AO3 | Wattpad

threesom&/DP, inappropriate use of a time-turner, selfcest (?)

How Sebastian Stole Christmas, using Santa Claus’ time-turner to have a holly jolly threesome with his wife and... himself.

❥ Cedarwood Lakeshore

5k words | Ominis Gaunt/Phineas Black | Mature | AO3 | Wattpad

established relationship, fluff, surprise marriage proposal, Christmas and NYE, they live in NYC

13 years later, Ominis Gaunt and Phineas Black found their happy ending in NYC. Ominis has one last surprise for Phineas, and Phineas has one last surprise for Ominis.

❥ Let It Gaunt

800 words | Ominis Gaunt/Phineas Black | Mature | AO3 | Wattpad

"Frozen" AU, Fairytale style, say gex (implied)

Ominis is Elsa. Phineas is Anna. But they are not siblings, so one can save the other in ways that do not involve snowmen.

❥ Treacherous Tattoos, Toxic Tequila, La Tour Eiffel, and Tangled Tongues

8.6k words | Ominis Gaunt/Phineas Black/Sebastian Sallow/Callan Fenwick | Explicit | AO3 | Wattpad

foursome (M/M/M/M); alcohol consumption; oral sex; anal sex; body shots; magical anal plugs; magical cock rings; French words were not beta read; improper use of Ominis but he likes it; Slutty!Sebastian; Pierced!Ominis; Athlete!Phineas; Daddy!Callan; Slutty!Everyone tbh because, in modern times, they can be themselves

the OC Callan Fenwick belongs to my dear friend @katmontesino <3

In this Modern AU, Phineas and Ominis run into Sebastian and his partner, Callan, at a gay nightclub in Paris. They dress slutty. They take selfies. They take body shots. Honestly, that's all you should know for now.

Art Commissions:

Sebastian Sallow/Carolyn Morgan:

Swimming at Clagmar Coast, by puridew

First Date at the Owlery, by myokk

Their spot at the Transfiguration Courtyard, by giselesann

Almost Kiss during Christmas, by giselesann

Yule Ball, by giselesann

Night at the Library, by vienguinn

Black Dress and Suit, by giselesann

The Notebook kiss, by ketto-art

The First Time, by yoshitsuno

Touch Down (NSFW), by rednite-dork