#phil always looks cozy

[sylvanfreckles]

Today I fucked up by *checks notes* delaying my lunch by ninety seconds to help my coworker finish a rush order.

I'm sure she wasn't really pissed at me and was just rushed because this guy had been an asshole. But it still feels like I can't do anything right when I'm just helping.

SO LET'S TALK HAPPY INSTEAD

My cats are *finally* using the chair I set up for their winter snuggle time. I rarely sit in it because it reflects a lot of body heat and I hate being too warm, but of course they love it. And they love the texture of crocheted blankets, too, so I put one of their favorite blankets in their cozy chair.

And they're finally using it! He's so cozy!

When they're not obsessed with the sink, that is

[silverzoomies]

Monster Mash

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, zombies, biting, undead, undead!reader, gender neutral reader, zombie kink

word count: 11,996

a/n: first of three peter-centric halloween fics!! hopefully i'll get them all posted before the month ends!! timeline here is extremely fuzzy, and might not fall in line with canon. it's kind of super ambiguous.

the usual apologies: clunky writing, potentially ooc peter/other characters, inconsistencies, ending's super meh, etc etc etc. idk if peter would realistically be down to bang a cute, zombified reader. but hey, it's fiction. why the heck not!

tag list (i remembered this time!!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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October. Just a week before Halloween.

Peter didn’t celebrate the holiday too often these days. Not like he used to. Ever since he took up teaching at the X-mansion, he only participated in a handful of Halloween activities. The staple being - playing escort for mutant kiddos on trick-or-treating ventures. An activity he enjoyed a lot, since the kiddos referred to “Mr. Maximoff” as “the school's most awesome trick-or-treat buddy.” Which had nothing to do with Peter swiping a little extra candy - for the kids, of course - when the other teachers weren’t looking. Swear on his life.

Another Halloween festivity he loved? The school's annual, X-family Halloween party. The team generally left Peter in charge of decorations, considering it took him no time at all to set them up. Professor Chuck himself - legendary baldy - always played host at those parties. As per tradition - after the party died down - Peter cozied up in the living room with the team. They’d gather together to watch everyone’s favorite horror flicks on VHS.

He really couldn’t wait for this year’s festivities. Peter looked forward to those after-party, horror movie marathons every year. Movie nights with the team? Pretty freakin’ awesome. If only for two reasons: The abundance of sugary garbage to snack on. And the way Ororo loooooooved snuggling up with him on the couch. Being so hot natured helped. Living life in the fast lane - operating like a human furnace - sure had its perks sometimes. ‘Ro’s cuddling made an excellent distraction from Peter’s unbridled loneliness. Haha...

C-...Consider that a topic for another day. Moving on.

On horror movie night, Peter inevitably saw the jumpscares coming leagues before anyone else. It never failed. He’d call them seconds ahead of time. With ‘Ro lying at his side, and his arm wrapped around her waist. Peter would exclaim, “Jumpscare!”, breaking the tension heavy silence amongst the group. Spoiling whatever movie played. Everyone hated it, of course. Kurt growled at him. Animalistic, but nowhere near intimidating. Jubilee pelted Peter with popcorn.

Peter just couldn’t help himself. Those scares were so predictable and boring sometimes. Sure, he liked horror movies enough. With all the gnarly gore and twisted kills. But they never freaked him out, since he didn’t spook easily. His incomprehensible reaction time made terror a tough game.

All that being said...

Even with his totally outrageous bravery streak, Peter - guilty as charged - sure had his candy-ass moments.

This current mission proved, without a doubt, one of the spookiest situations he’d ever landed himself in. He could feel it in the air tonight. And not in the groovy, Phil Collins way either. An ominous sense of uneasiness crawled across his skin. Eerie vibes sent chills creeping up his spine like spiders through a web. Peter wished he could fast forward to Halloween night on the couch with ‘Ro. Heck, he'd even take decorating duty over this any day of the week. At least he could go all out, and have his own fun with it.

For an October’s night, the weather seemed uncannily coincidental. Drops of rain showered from a mass of black clouds. A sharp crack of lightning struck the ground, with a roar of thunder following in succession. It rattled the very foundation of the abandoned lab Peter found himself exploring. As part of a last minute, late night mission.

Below his feet, tiled floors laid in disrepair. Dirtying the mismatched laces of his untied sneakers. Peter snuck his way through murky hallways, his heightened senses buzzing on edge. Fight or flight kicked into high gear, making him all the more sensitive to any outside stimuli. Another echoing roar rumbled through the building, threatening to topple its cracking walls. Peter worried the ceiling might cave in at any moment.

A terrifying thought. But it happened to be the exact reason Hank chose Peter for this mission to begin with. Should shit hit the fan, Peter could skedaddle at the speed of light unscathed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Unlike his other team members, who might risk being flattened like a pancake. Under the weight of, not one, but two floors above.

…Speaking of pancakes. Peter should definitely drop by a mom ‘n pop diner before heading back to base. He could really go for a fresh stack of late night hotcakes right about now. Warm and soft. With chocolate chips melting on the inside. Caked in sticky syrup and slathered with butter. Oooooh! And a little bacon on the side. Not too crispy, not too flop-

His mouth watered, and Peter blinked. Wiping his jacket sleeve across his lips, he redirected his attention to the task at hand. Focus, Quickie. He had a job to do, and he didn’t wanna be stuck doing said job all night.

The lab sat nestled off the coast of some island with a foreign name. Super hard to pronounce. Peter couldn’t remember it off the top of his head. Prior to this assignment, he’d never even heard of the place. But apparently, neither had anyone else. Hank sent Peter in search of what he dubbed leads on a mystery project. Something to do with scientific documents.

If he found any, he’d read their info over to Scott. Who would then relay that same intel back to Hank. Like an insanely boring game of telephone. Why Peter couldn’t speak to Hank directly was anybody’s guess. Too busy with his super secret project thingy-majig, possibly?

Hanging from Peter’s stereo belt alongside his old Walkman, a walkie screeched with a shrill chirp. A shock of alarm shot straight through Peter’s veins, making him jump. Scott’s voice crackled from the speakers.

“Any updates, Pete?” Scott asked, “Tell me anything you got. Even if it seems boring. Just hit me with it. It’s gotta be better than waiting around here in the lab, doing nothing.”

Peter held a compact flashlight in one hand, searching the lab’s pitch black halls. Most of the rooms he passed looked desolate. Barren and dusty. Save for the odd desk or empty cabinet. Peter wondered if they’d all been ransacked when the place closed down. The ceiling leaked rain from the floors above, dripping onto Peter’s bomber jacket. At the edge of his vision, he caught a rat scurrying by. But otherwise, not much else.

Pulling the walkie from his belt, he brought it up to his lips, “Uh. It’s dark and kinda spooky here. Saw a rat. Storm’s not gettin’ any better. It keeps shakin’ the whole place.” Peter shook his head, “If it doesn’t let up, I’m gonna have to split. Don’t wanna wait around to see what happens next, y’know? Over."

On the other end of the line, Scott breathed an annoyed sigh. Even through low-quality speaker fuzz, Peter could tell the sigh lacked any real spite.

“Peter. We’ve been over this. We aren’t using decades old, two-way radio communication. You really don’t have to say over. ”

Peter drummed his free hand on an empty desk. Following the beat of Sweet Poison by Naked Eyes, as it played from the only earbud he wore. He wanted to keep one ear open, just to hear Scott clearly. And mayhaps because he felt the teensy weensiest bit paranoid by his lonesome in the lab.

“Copy that. Over.” He grinned to himself.

The further Peter explored the lab’s halls, thick layers of mucky green seemed to take over. If he had to guess, he assumed Hank didn’t consider masses of moss “key intel.” Every few feet Peter stepped, he tore his way through another wall of cobwebs. Lots and lots of creepy cobwebs. Reduced to undying boredom, Peter took to karate chopping them. Might as well have fun in the face of ennui.

Half second flickers of lightning cast the lab in gleaming flashes. Bringing Peter’s attention to more rooms he missed. He wandered through some old offices. Or what he thought were offices, anyway. The trashed state of the rooms made it hard to tell. Nothing within them had withstood the test of time. Peter even tried poking around with some clunky computers. No luck. Dead as doornails.

“Found some computers. C64’s, I think. Haven’t seen one ‘a these bad boys since forever ago. But they’re totally busted.” Peter reported into the walkie, banging a fist onto one of the computers, “Yep. Busted. Over.”

Before leaving the room, Peter fucked around. Knocking over a computer monitor for no reason at all. He snatched a few, grubby pens from a lone desk. As well as a cracked coffee mug that read “I try to tell chemistry jokes, but there’s no reaction.” Just for the heck of it. Why not swipe some keepsakes, eh?

After what felt like a geological age of scouring, Peter eventually stumbled upon more filing cabinets. Stuffed to the brim with research documents and science-y records. Sighing, he pulled each drawer open one by one. Peter read the dusty files, sharing intel with Scott over the walkie. For every document Scott dismissed, Peter tossed them carelessly aside over his shoulder.

Antsy to wrap the mission up, grab some pancakes, and race home for a game of GoldenEye; Peter rushed through the last few folders. In hopes of finding whatever specific file Hank needed. But upon the last one, Scott broke some totally bogus news.

“Sorry about this.” Scott sighed, “Those files? Yeah. Hank says they’re all duds. No dice. You think it’s safe to keep looking? You might have to check the second floor.” He mentioned, to Peter’s dismay.

Peter bumped his head into the filing cabinet, groaning aloud. With a kick of his foot, he closed the last drawer and trudged onward. Oh well. The speedster could totally manage. At least he brought mix-tapes to keep his mind occupied. Along with extra tapes stashed in his belt pockets for good measure. Without music, he’d be so outrageously miserable on a mission like this.

Shining the dinky flashlight, he scanned the first floor area one more time. Just to be sure. The flashlight’s glow passed a set of double doors, leading to-

Wait. Back it up a sec. Double doors? Quietly singing New Order’s Blue Monday to himself, Peter moonwalked backwards to observe the doors again. Knitting his brows, he blinked. Stumped.

“Yo. Scotty. Got another room on the first floor. Gonna check it out real quick. Over.” Peter reported, clicking the walkie into place on his belt.

Another echo of thunder rattled through the lab, shaking the floors above. Lightning illuminated the halls in temporary flickers of white. Peter stared at the large set of doors, totally bamboozled. He couldn’t comprehend how he missed them before. When he knew for a fact he checked every nook and cranny. Inching closer, he eyed a sign pasted on one of the doors. In a rough scratch of permanent marker, the sign read:

Reanimation experiments in progress. Do not disturb!!

Reanimation? What, like…of the dead? Pfffbt. No way! Could this spooky place get any spookier? Peter swallowed an uncomfortable wedge in his throat. Shaking off any chills threatening to overtake him, he shined his flashlight through one of the door’s windows. Peter scanned the area for anything useful.

Inside, he clocked an operating table. Close to that, a lone cart cluttered with rusty, surgical tools. Cracked computer screens lined one of the walls, more advanced than they should’ve been. At least for the era they originated. Tangled cables ran along the floor, leading to something in the shadows. Peter couldn’t make it out.

He arched a brow, finally locking his sights on - Aha! Jackpot! More filing cabinets. Hopefully, they held his ticket out of this creepy place. Fingers crossed. Peter burst into the room in a flash, kicking up dust in his wake. Tearing through another wall of cobwebs, he surveyed the area again. Making a mental note of every cabinet he could see. Enough to keep him busy for the next hour, he guessed. Peter slumped his shoulders, huffing an aggravated groan.

Talking to Scott through the entire process made it more bearable. Being so no nonsense and straight forward, Scott had no problem retaining the info Peter shared from every file. Which saved the speedster any hassle of repeating himself, or having to explain things he didn’t understand. Science? Not really Peter's area of expertise. He thought himself more of a tech, or music guy.

Luckily enough, Peter found whatever documents Hank sent him after. A deep dive into every folder, in every drawer, in about a dozen different cabinets were all it took. Had Peter aged another thirty years? He sure as hell felt like it. No sweat! Mission accomplished. Time to bid the old lab goodbye.

Peter flew through the rest of the cabinets in less than a second’s time. Triple checking for any intel Hank might find compelling. He skimmed some records documenting the “reanimation of dead tissue.” Hm. Actually, blue beastie might potentially find that fascinating. “Reanimation” of the dead didn’t exactly sound too commonplace in modern science, did it?

In a folder, Peter discovered a file. Clipped with a photograph of - hellllllllooooo there! Someone…kinda cute. Very cute. Peter whistled, piercing the quiet thrum of distant rain. He read on.

Oh. The cute someone. They died. Tragically perished. Hit by a car back in the 80’s. What a bummer. One of the scientist's brought them to the lab as a test subject. Used for some twisted experiment in reanimation. The kicker? They proved to be the lab’s first and only successful trial run. Of around fifty different, reanimation trials. Yikes. That's...a lotta dead bodies.

These scientists successfully revived the dead? Peter doubted it. Over a decade had passed since then, and no one ever used the technology mentioned in the files. This lab's research couldn’t be as successful as they documented. Or something must've gone wrong, for them to give up and shut down the lab's operation completely.

Yeah. Treating human corpses like science fair projects for school? Super warped. Hank, wacky in his science ventures, totally found macabre shit like that interesting. Shrugging, Peter tucked the manilla folders he gathered under an arm. He grabbed his walkie, and reported to Scott.

“I got somethin’ else Hank might be into. It's totally messed up, he'll love it. But-uh…if that’s all he needed? I’m gonna jet now, ‘kay? I can’t take another minute in this scary ass place. Over and out.”

Before making his leave, Peter glanced around the room one last time. He appeared near the operating table in a picosecond, his brown eyes scanning the cart next to it. Curiously, Peter picked through some rusty, surgical tools.

Upon finding a scalpel in fairly okay condition, he swiped the tool and slipped it inside his back pocket. Whistling to Oingo Boingo's No One Lives Forever - in hindsight, kind of ironic - playing from his Walkman, Peter raised a foot to kick the cart. Watching it roll away into a nearby wall. Hasta la vista.

As Peter steered away from the operating table, a monstrous shadow loomed at the edge of his vision. His heart rampantly pounded in his chest, his senses still high strung. Jumping back with a terrified gasp, Peter climbed halfway onto the operating table. He fumbled for his flashlight, pointing the glow at the massive bundle of darkness. The light shook in Peter’s trembling hand.

But it-...oh. Phew! Nothing to be afraid of. Hah. What the heck was Peter gettin’ riled up for?

Like something straight out of science fiction, Peter’s shadowy monster proved nothing more than a giant pod. He squinted, moving towards it until close enough to observe it more clearly. The tech appeared big enough to hold a person of his size. Or, hell, maybe even someone of Beast’s size. Peter ran a hand along the surface of the pod, gathering a layer of dust on his fingertips. Scowling, he shuddered, wiping the dust on his jeans. “ EUGH! Eck-” Peter exclaimed to no one, “What’s up with this dusty, old thing??” Glass encased the outer layer of the large machine. It might've been see-through, if not for the unsanitary grime blanketing the entire thing. Years upon years of soot build up. Peter tried wiping the dust away with his elbow, to no avail. He couldn’t see inside, even with the aid of his flashlight.

Puzzled, Peter darted around the room in a silver blur, searching for clues. A switch of some kind? A secret code? He tampered with everything from the cracked monitors on the wall, to the colorful cables lining the floor. Peter even tried prying the pod open with a rusty hammer he found. Still, it refused to budge. Even with the power of speedster strength. Was it made of adamantium or something?

Sighing, defeated, Peter tossed the hammer away. It crashed into one of the screens hanging against the wall. Shattering the crystal display upon impact. Whoops. Oh well. How much more damage could be done to the place? Not like anyone would be making renovations anytime soon. Not in the middle of buttfuck nowhere island.

Making an accidental misstep, Peter slipped on his untied shoelaces. His ankle entangled itself in a circle of cables on the floor, and he lost his balance. Tripping, Peter stumbled backwards into some busted machinery, knocking his head. His back collided with the hard, metal surface behind him.

“ Auuugh. Shit.” Peter muttered. He didn’t understand how he could be so goddamn clumsy all the time, given - what the professor called - his mutant gift, “Ow. Dammit.”

He must have triggered a switch when he tripped. Suddenly, a loud hiss seethed through the air like a bus braking to a stop. A slow moving cloud of smoke rose from inside the pod. As it spread, filling the room, the fumes turned radioactive neon in color. It swarmed Peter’s nostrils, overflowing his senses with an earthy scent.

“Uhhh…uh oh.” He mumbled, “Is that supposed to happen?” Acting in haste, Peter scrambled to free his ankle from the cable’s tight grip.

A corpse reanimation research lab.

Nope. Noooope. He’d seen Return of the Living Dead enough times to know - whatever the hell’s happening now? Bad news. Couldn’t be good. Peter suppressed the urge to scream like a frightened child. A buzzing voice chimed from his walkie, startling him further. Dammit all, Scotty! He almost sent Peter into cardiac arrest for a hot second.

“Peter? Hey-uh, are you there? You alright? You didn’t stop somewhere for pancakes again, did you?” Scott crackled through the walkie, but Peter didn’t respond, “Better bring enough back for the whole class.” He joked, sarcastic.

Peter gawked at the sight before him in a mix of horror and confusion. Completely petrified, as Oingo Boingo played through his ear. The neon smoke emitted from the pod began to clear, revealing a body inside. A dead body.

Your dead body, to be specific.

Somehow, Peter recognized you. But that didn’t make any sense at all. He knew for a freakin’ fact he’d never seen or met you a day in his life. Unless… oh. Oh, holy shit. He hurriedly grabbed the extra folder he’d taken and opened it, just to glance between you, and the photo inside. And sure enough… The first and only successful trial run in reanimation.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Peter’s eyes blew open wide. His stomach dropped twenty thousand feet through the ground, plummeting to the Earth’s core. Swallowing thickly, he observed your slumbering body from his position on the dirty floor.

Your skin appeared ashier than it naturally should be. Y’know, on account of being dead and all. It more closely resembled a subdued, greenish color. Kinda Frankenstein-esc. Stitches lined each and every one of your limbs. As if some psycho nut job took you apart and sewed you back together again. Judging by the info in your file, they probably did. Embedded into your neck, were two bolts on either side. Also very Frankenstein-esc. You reminded him of a wax dummy on the set of some low-budget, horror flick. It’d be kinda funny, if he didn’t feel seconds away from screaming in horror.

You could be a dummy, if Peter had any luck. Yeah. This mission? Surely just a super elaborate prank set up by the team. Like a haunted house tour, made to scare the silver pants off him. Those sly dogs think they’re so slick, huh? ...R-Right?

Peter took a deep breath, keeping his terrified gaze fixed on you. In his ear, the funky tune came to an end. The lab fell into a deafening silence. Only broken by the faintest pitter patter of rain, and a quiet clamor of thunder now echoing at a distance. Signaling the passing of the storm. One less thing to worry about.

Though, he’d much rather agonize over a building’s foundation crumbling. He could handle a weather-related disaster wayyy better than a zombie coming to life, to - potentially - gorge on his flesh.

Raising his flashlight, he pointed the glow at your lifeless body. Again, Peter breathed a long sigh to ease his panic stricken nerves. An interference of crackling static ripped through the walkie then. Loud, and shrill enough to cut glass. At that very moment, your eyes - once locked in eternal slumber - popped open freakishly wide.

Oh. Oh hellllll no. Fuck that. Fuuuuck that.

Peter’s hunch proved totally right. You weren’t just dead. You were undead.

“ Mmmmmm nope.” Peter mumbled to himself, swiftly shaking his head, “Nuh uh. Nope.”

Shaking with adrenaline, he glanced between your dead-eyed gaze, and his trapped foot. Okay! No problem-o! Not a problem at all. For an X-Man, zombies made an easy foe, right? Peter could totally just-...

Just vamoose! Make a break for it! Right now!

Like, now.

Peter hadn’t run away yet. Why hadn’t he run away? Hellllloooo? Ground control to Quickie! Time to make a quick exit, and head for the hills. Lest he become zombie chow.

Stunned, Peter remained petrified. In an uncannily slow movement, you rose from the pod like Nosferatu out of a coffin. Peter cursed under his breath, willing his terror to take a one way ticket outta there. He needed to come to his senses, and fast. Even as Peter tried to move, his paralyzed state caused him to fumble again. His movements lacked their natural fluidity, and his blood ran cold.

Like a total doofus, in his failed attempt to escape, Peter tangled his foot even deeper through the cables. Sometime in the last thirty seconds or so, he dropped his flashlight. Within the inky darkness, he could barely make out your shape as you moved. You groaned a long, croaky sound. Guttural, like an eldritch abomination.

Another crash of lightning showered your living corpse in a white luster. Peter made direct eye contact with you. A gaze between life and death.

A yell vibrated through his lungs and bounced off the walls of the room, as Peter finally screamed. Your slow moving, zombified body climbed from the pod much like a spider. Stumbling at first, you connected your bare feet with the dirty, tiled floor. Once you found your balance, a cracking sound erupted from your limbs. Your bones clicked and popped audibly into place. Peter scowled, physically cringing.

Another scream tore from the depths of his chest, “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” He shouted.

You dragged your feet in a limp, moving towards Peter with a slow gait. Stitched arms reached out for him in an unhurried motion, “ Luhhhhhhhh- ” You choked on a groggy gurgle.

Fuck. Fucking shit fuck. You definitely wanted to feast on his juicy brains and smooth flesh. No denying that. It had been, like, a decade since you last ate anything. And Peter probably looked like one hell of a snack right about now. Not even in a totally kinky way.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH! Hold yer horses there, baby! Yer gettin’ a liiiitttle too close fer comfort now! C’mon, huh? Do you really think I’m on the menu? ‘Cuz trust me. If yer gonna eat somebody? I shouldn’t be yer first choice! I really don’t taste all that great!” Peter yelled, throwing a hand out momentarily before returning to the tangled cables. He huffed an uneasy laugh, “SHIT! Yer not listening, are you? Ahaha! Yer gonna eat me. Totally gonna eat me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-”

Peter tore at the cables wrapped around his foot. Acting as quickly as his petrified state would allow, he pulled the scalpel from his back pocket. But the dull razor’s edge refused to cut through the wires. Dropping the useless tool, he ripped into the cables one more time using all his strength. Only to free himself a millisecond too late. Always late. You lurched forward, making grabby hands. 

Quicksilver vs. an actual, real life zombie. If he made it out alive, that’d make one helluva story.

But-

Wait a damn minute. Hold the freakin’ phone. Why were you…looking at him like that?

The glazed over eyes of a living corpse opened up, all big and doe-like. Gazing at Peter in - no mistaking it - infatuated fondness. Your supple lips parted with a wide smile of pure delight. Like sunshine peeking through hazardous, storm clouds. You leapt forward unexpectedly, squeaking a raspy squeal. Burrowing your face into the warmth of Peter’s chest, you linked your arms around his neck. Holding onto him tight.

“What the-” He whispered, looking down at your messy head of hair.

Uh. Okay. So, that just happened. Weird. Why weren’t you feasting on his flesh? Wasn’t he supposed to be your first meal since zombie hibernation, or something? Didn’t you wanna go chomp chomp chomp, and turn his guts into mush?

Peter realized, looking at you up close, you appeared perfectly clean and preserved. You didn’t reek like a dead body. The earthy scent on your cold skin wasn’t too unpleasant either. It smelled herbal. Floral, even. Your smooth skin lacked any signs of rot. Aside from one or two lesions revealing rib or arm bones. Kinda...freakishly cool. The surface of your skin looked see-through, with veins weaving underneath like intricate wiring.

A little spooky, sure. But not all that scary to look at, surprisingly enough. Not like Peter expected, anyway. As you snuggled closer into Peter’s body, he began to realize how oddly affectionate you were. Very out of character, for a zombie. You squeaked an unintelligible noise, attempting to communicate. But you just couldn’t form the words. Maybe your speech capabilities fizzled out after years and years of unending silence.

Peter creased his brows, lowering his defenses and calming himself down. Another thirty seconds passed. His brains remained intact, and you hadn’t made him your next meal. He pulled the earbud from his ear, hooking them around his neck and pressing pause on the Walkman. Craning your neck back, your glassy eyes met Peter’s own. You grinned so big and joyful, gleaming the innocence of a pure-of-heart, golden retriever. Despite being totally bizarre, Peter found your sweetness...sorta...weirdly cute.

“Uhmmm…hi? Hey. Uh-why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He laughed, a little uneasy.

Maybe your affection stemmed from something simple. If Peter were locked up in a cramped pod for so many years, he’d be ecstatic if someone finally freed him. You were probably just uber thankful he’d broken you outta that pod thingy. And you showed gratitude through touching, since you couldn’t exactly flurry him with thank yous. He could accept that. Sure. For now.

The walkie hanging from his belt droned a buzz, and Scott’s voice called out. Peter finally reached for it, maneuvering between his body and yours. Your arms stayed around his neck, your body hanging like a stubborn monkey’s from a tree.

“Peter? Do you copy? Peter, are you there, man? Talk to us. Please. Should we send someone over to assist?” Scott asked, his voice itching with alarm. “Yeah! Yeah, nah. Uh-hey, Scotty! Hey, I’m here. I’m oka-...dude, it’s fine. Nothin’ to worry about. Seriously. But…I do kinda have a situation here? Over.” Peter replied.

Scott exhaled a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. In the crackling background of the walkie, Peter heard Jean’s voice. She asked, “Did he say over ?” Followed by a series of hushed chuckles. Peter smirked to himself.

“Oh! Oh my god. Thank goodness, Pete. We were all getting pretty worried about you over here. What’s going on? Are you still at the lab? You said there was a situation. What kind of situation? Did that old place finally cave in?” Scott asked. Many, many questions.

Peter heard even more frantic, muffled conversations in the background. While he couldn’t understand them, he recognized the voices. The entire team had gathered, just to make sure he made it out alive. Awww. How sweet. They were worried about lil ol’ him? If Peter hadn’t had the bejesus scared out of him not even five minutes ago, his heart would’ve melted.

“Heyyyy, guys! Uhhhh…soooo…I might’ve found, like, a zombie? No joke. Like, a real zombie. But it’s not tryna kill me. It’s-” Peter paused, raising a brow. You fluttered your lashes, giving him a coquettish look, “Bro, I think it’s makin’ eyes at me. Legit. Kinda weird, right? Definitely not what I was expecting. But it’s totally fine. I got it all under control now. Over.”

A long silence fell amongst the walkie’s noise. Until Scott finally responded in monotone.

“Did we hear you wrong, or did you just say you found a zombie?” He asked, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. As if expecting Peter to say - Psych! Fooled ya!

Peter parted his lips to confirm. But the abrupt tickle of a chilly kiss on his neck silenced him. You stood up on your bare toes, giggling sweetly. Across his hot skin, you peppered your chapped lips. Instantly, Peter froze in place again. Shudders rang through his body. He reached for one of your arms, tugging you to try and pull you off him.

“Uhm. Y’know what? It’s no big deal. B-But yeah, it’s a zombie fer sure.” Peter tugged your arm with more insistence, urging you to let go. But you persisted, giggling into the crook of his neck, “Like I said. No worries here. It’s not like I’m in da- haaah okayokayokay-”

Your feather light kisses became soft, kitten licks. Flicking Peter’s flesh with your slimy tongue, you squealed, tickled pink. Peter jolted, shivers sizzling down his spine. He tilted his neck to the side, wincing. Over the walkie, he heard Hank’s gruff voice.

“Peter! It’s Hank-” The blue beast said, as if Peter couldn’t already tell based on his growly tone, “Are you a hundred percent sure the undead creature isn’t dangerous?” He asked, buzzing through a scratch of interference.

Coldness slathered and swirled Peter’s neck in slow circles. Fluttering his eyes closed, he replied, “N-Not dangerous. Ohhhh. Definitely not dangerous. No danger here. All good. Over.” Again, he tried to pull you off.

Your discolored arms tightened their hold around his neck and over his shoulders. Cooing noises dripped from your tongue like honey, so sugary sweet. You swiped his skin with your tongue, nuzzling your cold nose into the heated crevice of his neck. Pressing your body closer into his, you squirmed, littering him with zombie kisses.

Peter tensed, apprehensive of your affections. He didn’t want to be too harsh or aggressive towards you. Worried that any sign of conflict might make you snap. For all he knew, you might go bonkers and brain hungry. Really, he should’ve gotten it over with and pushed you away. Before you took things a little too far. And you did. Your teeth sank into his neck, lightly nibbling his flesh. As you pressed yourself even closer into his proximity, your breasts - covered only by a ragged crop top - met the swell of his broad chest. WOOOOOAH! Talk about twisted! Sure, okay, maybe your bites turned him on, like, a little. Flooding his body with a pleasant, all-over shudder of pleasure. But he couldn’t just fold for a zombie, could he? That’d be disgusting!

It’d be gross, right?

A subconscious desire in the recesses of his lonesome mind told him he wanted - no, needed - the attention. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone like this since the pogs fad. Easy, now, Peter! Down, boy.

But…shit. As much as he wanted to give in, he couldn’t. Not for a monster. A living corpse, left cooking in a secluded pod for a decade. Cloaked in discoloration and held together by expertly crafted stitching. Not entirely mindless, but so dense, you hadn’t the forethought to ask - “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?” No. Instead, you went after him the moment you saw him, showering him in bubbly, zombie lovin’.

He…shouldn’t find that hot. His fingers shouldn’t be tightening around the walkie, and his groin shouldn’t feel as scorching as it does. Oh, man. Could Peter be any more doomed? He’d have to be mad desperate - way out of his mind - to reciprocate your affection. Raising the walkie again, he cleared his throat.

“Hiya, Beastie. A-Acutally, I think they-...the zombie really, really likes me.” Peter added for no reason at all. You nibbled him a little harder, and he winced again.

“Well, now! That’s good then, isn’t it? Better than the alternative, I’d say! If at all possible, Peter, you should bring the creature with you. I’d like to look it over. Maybe run some tests. Figure out what brought it to life! This could be the secret to reversing brain death!” Hank chimed, excited.

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course Hank wanted to poke and prod at you like some little, lab rat. He opened his mouth to respond, but choked before he could get a word in. Your dull teeth clamped roughly into his neck. Peter braced a free hand on your hip, his thumb digging into the cool, exposed flesh there. Now, suspicion began to dawn on him.

You could be a clever, little zombie. Capable of luring Peter in with flirtatious wiles and sweet touches. Once he let his guard down, what if you planned on tearing into his guts? Well played, smarty pants zombie. Well played. But Peter caught onto your little game. You couldn’t get anything past him.

Instead of slurping his blood like a 7-Eleven slushie, or ripping your nails into his taut muscles; you suckled his skin lovingly. Pulling tiny hickies into his neck. Squealing and giggling in that girlish fashion, playful with every nibble. Peter gulped, biting his lip between his teeth. No way in hell he allowed a zombie to give him hickies.

…Except he did. So what? No harm in it, right?

“Y-Yeah. Sure. I’m good. Great. Just hangin’ out with my new zombie buddy. It’s totally not gonna eat my brains. Like, zero percent chance I’m gonna die an ugly, zombie death. So, y’know, Beastie, don’t lose any sleep over it.” Peter responded, before following it up with a condescending, “Over.”

On the walkie line, Peter heard a series of groans and faint giggles. Followed by Hank’s voice, as he passed the walkie back to Scott. The X-Men’s laser eyed leader sighed, his tone unamused.

“Whatever, Peter. Just…just hurry up, will you? And bring those documents over for Hank. Thanks.”

Peter tried, and failed to keep his composure. A cutie pie zombie kept macking on him like a lovesick puppy, and he had no clue what to make of it. You sucked more sloppy, violet marks into his neck. Tugging his skin with your teeth and nibbling like you couldn’t get enough of him. Peter’s skin flared up in cold creeps, as you trailed your chilly lips to his shoulder. Pulling his jacket and the collar of his shirt aside, you spoiled him in more undead affection.

“Gotcha. Copy that. Ov- mmm -” Peter whispered a moan, replying with a rushed, “Overandout.”

He clipped the walkie back onto his belt. Attempting once more to pry you off him, Peter gave your arm a strong tug. A little more forceful this time around. As you finally dislodged yourself from his neck, Peter took a few steps back. Avoiding any stray cables on the floor.

Now, with some distance between the two of you, he cleared his throat. Peter brought a hand to his neck, grazing fingers over the love bites you left behind. Tiny splotches of purple pooled with offsets of scarlet. Faint teeth marks left grooves in his skin. He hissed.

Giving you the freedom to pepper him with hickies might not have been the smartest idea. Hopefully, you didn’t infect him with some sick, zombie disease. One with the potential to end humanity as he knew it. He couldn’t cope with the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders.

You gawked up at him with those big, adoring eyes. Excitedly, you squealed, hopping towards him with your eager arms outstretched. Hoping to pull Peter into another close hug, just so you could litter him in more nibbly, love bites. He raised an abrupt hand, maintaining distance. Peter cleared his throat again. His cheeks burned hot, doused in bright pink.

Totally not fair, the way an overly affectionate zombie got him blushing.

“L-Listen. Uh. Yer sweet, but-” Peter started. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted down your body. He observed the stitches sewn into your neck and limbs. His dark chocolate eyes followed the rips and tears in your skimpy shirt. The flimsy garment revealed a tiny peek of your - admittedly pretty - breasts. And Peter swallowed, his throat running dry, “Uhhh…you can’t keep doin’ this, okay? The-” He wiggled his long fingers, gesturing to his neck, “The hickie thing. If yer gonna come with me, we gotta lay down some ground rules. Alright? You get me, babe?”

You tilted your head to the side, blinking slowly. Gazing at Peter with a look that told him you didn’t understand. But you didn’t seem to give a shit either way. You reached for one of his hands, a dazzled smile curling into your lips. Purring a candied noise of affection, you brought his hand to your cheek and nuzzled his palm. Your lips gently kissed each fingertip. Peter pulled a face, knitting his silver brows.

“Why’re you so damn-” He shook his head, “Whatever. Listen. Can you, like, chill out? No biting, you understand?” Peter paused to make a chomping gesture, clicking his teeth. But this only made you giggle. Which, unfortunately, he found super infectious.

Peter chuckled, scoffing playfully, “Stop that! I’m totally serious! No biting. No licking. No kissing. Like this. You see this?” He gestured to the hickies on his neck, their trail leading under his shirt, “No more ‘a that, you feel me? I dunno how I’m gonna explain this to the crew back home. They’re gonna think we got, like, freaky ‘er somethin’. Yeah. Can you imagine that? Like I’d ever fool around with-”

Fluttering your off colored lashes, you tilted your head to the other side. You parted your chapped lips, squealing as you edged his fingertips into your mouth. Pressing the salty pads to your bitter tongue.

“Oh! EUCK! Gross! Don’t-” Peter scowled, jerking his hand from you in less than a millisecond. With a horrified look, he observed his fingers as if they were germ-infested specimens, “Yer a real weird one, babe.”

His guard fell. While Peter kept his perplexed eyes on his fingers, you leapt forward. Burying your face deep into the fabric of his shirt, you squealed. Gleeful and bubbly. Peter groaned, only half-annoyed. He made a move to push you off him again. But your precious, little purring noises changed his mind. Peter couldn’t find it in himself to put his foot down.

Turns out he had a weakness. Cute, overly affectionate zombies. Who woulda thought?

Whatever. Peter had wayyy more important things on his plate. He knew he should gather up those folders he dropped, along with anything else he lost during his freak out session. Once he did, he needed to get the two of you out of this dingy, old lab asap.

“ Mmmmm …n-need…” You hummed your first word, before squealing, “Loooooove~!” Your voice strained, rattling like you’d been pounding down cigarettes by the plenty.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he let his sizeable hands fall to your hips, “Di-...wait a sec, did you just talk? Holy shit! You can talk?” Peter asked, dumbfounded, “Woah! Wow. Uh…so…you got a name? Can you at least tell me yer name?”

Your case file hadn’t listed your name, leaving you reduced to a number. Pretty messed up, if anyone were to ask Peter. Either you still didn’t understand him, or you couldn’t remember your own name. Instead of giving him an answer, you nuzzled your face in his chest. You tittered, so soft and smitten, your ragged voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Cold, tiny zombie hands tickled the back of his neck, raking gentle nails down his torso.

Standing on your toes, you connected your cool lips with his neck all over again. You kissed your previous love bites, as if doing so would heal them entirely. Ashamed of himself for letting it happen, Peter stifled a groan.

"Y-...You don't remember yer name, do you?" He mumbled. Peter's strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in, "That is...a seriously messed up situation. But, hey, I'm here fer you. Don't worry, 'kay? We'll get you to a safe place, and you can start over there. Sound good?" His caring nature shined through. But male horniness abruptly overshadowed it, as your wet tongue tickled his skin.

A guilty part of him, overrun with sympathy, felt bad for you. Those scientists hadn’t treated you like the victim of an unfortunate accident. More like a toy. Meant to be ripped apart, played with, and abandoned. It seemed wrong to perceive you in a frisky light. But then again…you wanted love. You may as well have been begging for it.

Love. One of the first words you spoke since your undead coma. Not that much of a surprise, if he thought about it. As a science experiment, loneliness probably consumed you. Even before your decade-long slumber. In a way, Peter understood. He too felt haunted by a longing for affection for far, far too long. In his mind, that made the two of you kindred spirits.

Ahhhh …dammit. Peter just couldn’t resist you and your sweet wiles anymore. His self control steadily slipped from his weakened grasp.

“ Mmmmm! Wa-....waaaant…love~! Neeeed… mmm …lo-....love~!” You squeaked, your cold tongue curling over a fresh, purple mark.

“C’mon, baby. We can’t-...you really have to stop this. We gotta head back to base, like, now. Everyone’s waitin’ on me, and I-” Peter muttered, and you pulled back. Gazing at him with that mystified, doe eyed look. Like you saw the beauty of the cosmos in him, and him alone. Your lips sparkled, wet from your lovin’. Peter clutched your hips firmly. His jeans seemed...somehow tighter all of a sudden, “Would ya stop lookin’ at me like that?”

“Looooooove~?” You cooed, your voice taking on a lustrous, but groggy tone.

“Yeah. I know. But…” Peter sighed, letting his hands feel up and down your curvy sides, “Yer gonna get me in soooo much trouble. But, fine. You win, okay? What kinda love are we talkin’ 'bout here, babe? You wanna hug? Want me to-uhm…to plant one on you? Is that it?”

You perked up then. Peter took it as a sign you understood him, more than you let on before. He arched a brow. At this point, why even hold back? Because you were dead? So what! Who ever said zombies couldn’t be smokin’ hot?

If he messed around with you just a little, no one would ever know. Which…made the concept even more enticing. You could be his little secret. An affectionate secret he’d forever bury in the ground. In place of the grave those scientists never gave you.

Peter fluttered his eyes closed, finally giving in to your closeness entirely. Lowering his big hands, he grabbed your ass. His palms squeezed over the torn, booty shorts you wore. Never did he imagine - upon exploring some horror movie, science lab - he’d feel up a cutie pie corpse’s plump bottom by the end. What a way to end a mission. Life worked in some wildly bizarre ways sometimes.

Kissing a zombie? Not as gross as he thought it’d be.

Okay. Maybe for, like, half a second. But the earthy taste on Peter’s lips didn’t faze him much. Once he pushed past the initial ick, he embraced you fully. Peter decided he didn’t give a flying fuck how unsanitary zombie smooches might be. Uncoordinated lip motions lured him in further. Pinkish teeth grazing his bottom lip between kisses. Soon enough, they turned sloppy, and Peter found himself frenching the living dead.

Zombie make out session. An experience he hadn’t planned to check off his bucket list. But now, he could.

One of his hands gripped your ass. While his other held your face and pulled you in for more tongue action. In the midst of swapping spit, you sought every opportune moment to nibble him. Peter couldn’t help but be super into it. You mewled softly, giggling when he gave your booty a hard squeeze. Chuckling, he parted from your lips to look over your greenish face. Your eyes bulged so big and wide, pupils an off-grey color and impossibly huge. Wonderstruck by his very existence. Darting down to capture your lips again, Peter stumbled forward. He guided your body towards the operating table, knocking you into it. Your hips collided with the edge, causing a loud, vibrating clang. The rough motion worried him enough, he stopped sucking face just to confirm you were alright. Peter feverishly kissed your cold lips, his hands exploring your body. Feeling stitched skin under his fingers.

You pulled from him with a joyous squeal, but Peter followed. Confused as to why you stopped, until you dove for the untarnished side of his neck. Dull flats of your teeth chomped straight into his flesh, grinding a little too roughly for comfort. Peter winced with a start, ceasing his love on your bootylicious bottom.

“N-No! Noooo! Hey, baby, look at me.” Peter snapped his fingers to get your attention. Not that he wanted to be so demanding. But you needed to understand his boundaries, before you tore into his flesh and guzzled his blood. Instantly, you reacted, retracting your teeth from his neck. You moved to make eye contact, and Peter fixed you with a soft gaze, “What’d I tell you, huh? Look, it’s not that I can’t appreciate some neckin’. 'Cuz I totally can. And I really dig it. Like, a lot. But you can’t be munchin’ on me! Really freaks me out when you do that.”

You angled your head again, curious. Doe eyes gaped at him with fluttering lashes, innocently confused, “ Mmm. Giv-....Giiiiive…love?” You croaked, pawing at Peter’s chest over his shirt, acting so needy.

He couldn’t begin to understand what you meant, or what you imagined love to be in your head. Were you really so desperate to bite him? Or, were you asking for something else? Wanton, bedroom eyes dawned your pretty face. Plush, ashy lips parting. You pawed his chest again, your blunt nails scraping across his shirt. In your desperation to communicate your-uhm…needs, you jutted your hips forward into his jeans. “L-L…Lo-” You started, throaty voice oozing innocence. Though, the look in your lidded eyes betrayed said innocence, “Loooooove. Need. P-Please?” 

Peter’s eyes popped open, as realization dawned on him. Oh. You meant you needed-... Ah. He understood now. The unreasonably cute, living corpse he found - dormant in a pod for, like, a decade - wanted to bump uglies. Great. Awesome. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? Fulfill your unbridled desire? C’monnnn. Didn’t boning undead cuties come with any moral implications? If he took you to pound town, would that make him a necrophiliac? Peter really didn’t wanna be labeled a necrophiliac.

But hypothetically, what if he admitted his own desperation to himself? He always fumbled every time he tried to step up his game and woo the ladies. Not like he had any game to begin with. And tonight, there you were. Practically begging for him to take you. He should acknowledge the fact that, yeah - no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise - he found you very hot. So, ludicrously hot. Zombie traits and all.

And regardless of how many times he second guessed himself - at the end of the day - his dick didn’t have any qualms about zombie hanky panky.

Peter’s hand traveled up, thumbs curiously tracing the rough lining of your neck stitches. Before toying with the rusted bolts an inch or two above. Testing if you could even feel it. You didn’t react, and Peter wondered if scientists used those bolts to revive you. Did they awaken you Frankenstein style, with sharp surges of electricity? Or did you come to life by other means? A glowing, reagent liquid, maybe?

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Peter tugged the front of your loose top down. A pair of off-green, zombie melons jiggled freely. Stitches circled each breast, and Peter may or may not have thought they looked hot as fuck like that. Call him inhumane, but he really dug your whole monstrous babe aesthetic.

His hands kneaded the softest pair of undead knockers he ever felt, making you squirm under his touch. Peter grinned, pleased with every choked squeak leaping off your lips. He flitted his dark gaze up to your face, then back down to your breasts; back and forth, back and forth. Admiring the delicate expressions you made, your precious face scrunched in pleasure.

“Damn. Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are? ‘Specially like this.” Peter chuckled, pinching and twisting your perky nipples, “Bet those bad guys never did. Sucks fer them. Yer a total babe. And sooo fuckin’ cute. Makes me want you all fer myself.”

Sooooo…about your…cooch situation. Yeah. Uh…Peter might’ve been somewhat worried about that. Taking your condition into consideration, he felt himself overcome with hesitance. Fearful that your-uh…flower, so to speak, may have withered away after a decade of darkness.

What about diseases? The thought made Peter squeamish. Even though you appeared and smelled relatively clean, you still hadn’t showered in a long freakin’ time. Then again, protection existed. Not to mention, you were so, so needy and cute. Your body looked undeniably amazing, and felt so soft. Fuck it. With some reluctance, Peter willed himself to test the waters. For your sake, but also for his own. Just to make up for the years he spent wishing he could get laid again.

A win-win for you both.

Tugging your tiny shorts down your smooth thighs - finding a little struggle along the way, since the meat of your thighs proved an obstacle - Peter snuck his fingers under the hem of your worn panties. The millisecond before his fingers met the supple curtains of your pussy, he second guessed himself for the zillionth time. Peter’s subconscious doubt pestered him enough, he almost withdrew his hand completely.

But the precious whimper you made gave him enough encouragement to keep going. His thick digits cautiously braved forbidden, undead territory. Finding an overabundance of cool, silky wetness between your lips. Peter swallowed hard, knitting his brows as he scoured for your clit.

“Jesus, baby.” He muttered. Judging by your bubbly squeak of delight, Peter assumed he found what he’d been venturing for. Leaning slightly forward into your proximity, Peter circled your stiff, little nub, “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“G-...G-....Gooooood! Mo-....More? More!” You mewled, clenching fists into his shirt. Mindlessly, you canted your hips, seeking his crotch. “Hey, it’s whatever you want, pretty.” He mused with a smirk, voice tender, “Relaaaax. I gotcha. I gotcha. ”

His fingers drew downwards, teasing for a beat before cruising into your silken entrance. Lush, deathly cold walls welcomed his digits in a loving hug. Beckoning Peter to sink them in deeper. You held his shirt like a lifeline, moaning an angelic, rattle of a noise. Pulling you closer into his warm body, Peter lowered his head to your shoulder. Thin strands of silver hair tickled your cheek. His thick fingers curled, hooking into a cushiony spot inside you. Your near-empty eyes saw hot flashes of light.

“L-LOOOVE~!” You whimpered through hitched cries.

“Mhm?” Peter laughed, impishly nibbling his lip, “Feel that lovin’? Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

Keeping you distracted for a temporary moment, Peter dotted your neck in warm kisses. Subtly easing his fingers in and out of your velvet pussy at a quicker pace. Your knees buckled, trembling the faster he moved. Until his motions became brutal. With a perfect curl, speedy digits rammed repeatedly into that spongy spot you loved. Your sugary sweet, unintelligible whines rose in volume, as your sticky, little, zombie cunt quivered.

You gnawed powerful bites as you came, your teeth digging into Peter’s neck. But this time, he allowed it. He forced himself to muscle through the pain, holding your shuddering body close, “ Shhhh. Shhh. It’s cool, baby. It’s - ahh - it’s cool. That's it.” He cooed with a careful tone, stroking the back of your head and threading fingers through your ragged hair.

Easing his fingers from your cunt, he double checked the digits, making sure nothing seemed off. Your release felt thicker and stickier than any living person’s, but didn’t have much of a scent. While usually he looooved to taste the aftermath of a total cutie’s orgasm, Peter opted not to. Sure, your wetness didn’t appear radioactive or hazardous. But the thought of guzzling zombie honey put him off a little bit.

“G-....Goood?” You ogled Peter with half-lidded, glassy eyes, your lips parting in an irresistible giggle.

Peter bit his tongue. Alright. Maybe he…could give it a shot. Just this once. Zombie love liquor couldn’t be deadly or anything, could it? Disease-ridden, maybe. But Peter knew a hyper-intelligent doctor who could whip up a cure for most ailments. Guess it didn’t matter anymore. By the time Peter second guessed himself yet again, he’d already sucked his fingers clean. A bitter thickness lingered on his taste buds. Peter salivated at the thought of drinking down more.

“ Mmmm … mhm …not bad.” He chuckled, lips humming around his fingers, "I'd go fer seconds." He added with a wink, making you laugh.

Yikes. If Hank only knew how reckless Peter acted in the presence of some zombified cutie. He’d lock him up in the infirmary and run a thousand tests on him. Just to make damn sure Peter hadn’t contracted anything lethal.

Politely pushing you off him, Peter turned his head. He double checked the perimeter for any signs of life, despite the lab being totally desolate. Hopefully Summers hadn’t sent anyone after him, since the speedster took way too long returning to base. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled his hard length from the fly. Almost immediately, you gasped in elation. Tickled squeals danced on your discolored tongue. Thick, and flushed a dark scarlet, Peter’s cock throbbed in his hand.

"I'm guessin' you like what you see?" He snickered, giving his dick a firm stroke, "I like what I'm seein' too...if you couldn't tell." Every word Peter said, every charming smile he gave, seemed to attract you considerably. Drawing more kittenish giggles from you.

With your freezing, zombie mitts, you ungracefully reached for him. Cold fingers squeezed his cock, stroking in a clumsy motion. Peter drew in a sharp breath, the cool sensation of your hands arousing his nerves. Even if your hand to gland combat lacked any skill, it felt damn awesome to be touched like this again. He stepped forward, his giant hands grabbing your hips. You played with him as much as your little, unbeating heart desired. Tugging his burning hardness with an overzealous grip.

You tried lowering yourself to the floor, your mouth falling open, tongue gliding over your lip. But Peter instinctively stopped you. His hands darted to your shoulders, pulling you into a standing position. He preferred if you didn’t take your biting addiction downstairs. Visitations of the oral variety were closed to any undead visitors. At least, for right now.

“Y’know, I don’t usually like goin’ all the way on the first date.” He spoke, fishing his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, “Like, call me an old soul 'er whatever.” Peter worked quickly, pulling a condom out of his wallet. He slipped the latex over his length, “But I can make an exception. Just fer you, cutie. But this stays between us, yeah?”

You nodded, pushing yourself up onto the dusty, operating table. Peter cringed, curling his lip out of concern for you. This couldn’t be sanitary. Dragging his attention from the filth under your bottom, you parted your knees. With your body angled backwards, you pointed eagerly at your panty-clad pussy. Soaked and dripping under the thin fabric. Peter’s breath hitched.

“Looooooove~? M-Ma…make?” You cooed, scooting a little off the edge of the table. As if tempting him to give in and fuck you already, you wiggled your ass. Like a beautiful, monstrous display of stitches and postmortem skin. All for the speedster's taking.

"I-I mean-uh...sure. If you really want me to. What kinda guy would I be to turn you down?" He awkwardly joked, fighting his nerves.

Peter pushed a strong hand against your inner thigh. Warm on your deathly cold flesh. He pulled your thin panties to the side, teasing your glossy slit with the head of his cock. You whimpered, cute noises bubbling in the back of your throat. Edging you for a beat more, he slid the teary eyed tip over your clit. Before sinking his length through your walls. Inch by pulsating inch, he bottomed out in a flash, tip kissing your cervix.

“ Wohhhhh, fuck.” He groaned. A new kind of coolness enveloped his cock, plushy and soft. Hooking your stitched legs over Peter’s shoulders, you tilted your body. Inviting him to submerge as deeply as your tight cunt would allow, “Oh, baby…yer so-...ah, fuuuuck. ”

"G……..Goo-......Gooood~!" You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Your strangled voice erupted in a mantra of lustful squeals.

By some act of divine intervention, Peter could feel the swollen, unyielding lusciousness of your pussy. Walls wringing his cock, like you wanted to suck him dry of everything he had. He swiftly rutted into your cunt, hard enough to make you bounce against the table. Peter’s sluggish eyes followed your breasts as they bobbed. Titties jiggling with such a soft, sexy whirl; He felt his cock twitch inside you.

Leaning down, Peter loomed over you, the rough fabrics of his clothes sliding along your bare skin. He kissed you tenderly, a little heedless. In the midst of fondling your precious, stitched breasts, Peter's hot palm curiously pressed against your chest. Feeling...nothing. No heartbeat, no blood flow. A little spooked, he refocused his attention. Playing with your bouncing, zombie titties again.

"Feels so-...you feel so good, holy fuck -" He moaned, his voice catching in his throat, "So pretty. L- ah ...love how tight you are." Playfully, Peter lost himself in the moment. He pulled a nipple between his teeth, suckling one of your Frankenstein tits, "Loooove these zombie boobies. Hah -oooohhh, shit-"

Lying in slumber for a decade must have left you majorly sensitive. In just a few more, aggressive, bunny humps; you came again. Hypnotic delight burst through your core, pushing you to the point of tears. Your pussy fluttered, sticky wetness gushing around his cock. Reaching up to link your arms around his neck, you clawed little etchings into his skin.

“M-Mmmmmooore~! More, mmm- ...more~!!” You pleaded, coaxing Peter to drill you with all the energy he carried. Not to toot his own horn, but - little did you know - he harbored enough energy for a hundred men. And then some.

"You w- fuck -want more? Want more, baby? God, yer gonna make me-" His voice wavered between moans, "G-Gonna make me lose it-"

Peter’s mischievous eyes met yours, as you gave him that doe eyed look he couldn’t fucking resist. Sharp jabs of his cock sped to a blur, slamming into your cunt in a brutal display of his strength. Keeping himself balanced, hands pressed to the table on either side of you; Peter showed no mercy. Abusing your precious, syrupy walls with a ruthless pace. But not fast enough that he’d tear his means of protection. A harsh surge of heavenly pain flared up inside you, as he tore into your pussy and bashed your cervix.

"LOOOOOVE~! Ah~! Peeeetur~!" In a moment of post orgasmic clarity, you called his name. Slurred, and barely recognizable. How'd you even know? Had you picked it up from his walkie conversations? Damn, his zombie buddy's more perceptive than he thought. Peter snickered, finding your pronunciation ridiculous. But the cute, needy sound of his name on your lips triggered something.

" ’Mgonnacum- ” Peter whined, his brutal pace more inconsistent and sloppy, “Gonna-...feels too good o h fuck oh fuCK -” 

A pearly white burst of thick heat stuffed the latex of the condom full, threatening to make it pop. Burying his nose deep in the crook of your neck, Peter moaned. Guttural whines ripped from his chest, drying his throat. Panting - not from exhaustion, but overstimulation - Peter loosened his muscles. In mellow, post nut bliss, he almost overlooked the sizzle of static buzzing from his walkie.

“Peter? Peter, answer me right now. So help me god. Everyone’s worried sick about you! Do you read me? Peter, I said, do you read me? Please!” Scott pleaded through a mix of agitation and genuine distress.

 Peter drew out a long, hard groan. Pushing himself up a little, he fumbled lazily for his walkie. A sluggish grin curled into his dimples, as he nibbled his lip and winked down at you. His eyes half lidded and hanging heavy.

 “Mmmm…’M fine. ‘M fine. ‘M fine.” He chuckled, overcompensating for himself. He knew he’d be in mega trouble with the crew by this point, “It’s all-uh…all good. Jeez, Summers. Did ya think I was dead ‘er somethin’? Haha…” Peter drolled, his tone slower than usual. He withdrew his softening cock from inside you, watching while you squirmed. On your back, you appeared a blissful, fucked out mess. Ultimately satisfied. Mission accomplished, “Don’t worry so much, bro. I was only takin’ my new, zombie buddy out to-uh…tooooooo…an arcade. Yeah. An arcade.”

On the other end of the line, a silence fell. Peter filled it with an, “O-Over.” to compensate again.

 “...You took the zombie…to an arcade?” Scott responded, an edge of irritated disbelief in his tone, “Peter, are you out of your damn mind? Do you not realize how much of a risk that is? I can’t even-...your priority for this mission was to retrieve those documents for Hank. Doesn’t it seem irresponsible to be dragging an unknown, undead creature around a public place? I can’t even believe you!” He heard Scott scoff, “Now, will you please return already with those documents? We’re all waiting on you. Bring the zombie too.”

“Uhhh…yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Dunno what came over me. Sure. Okie dokes. Lemme, uh-” Peter spoke, playfully fighting you off. You reached for his neck, trying to pull him back down for post-sex cuddles, “Lemme grab ‘em. They’re goin’ hog wild with skee-ball right now. Crazy, right? They scored, like, sooooo many points. You should see all the tickets we got, man. We could totally get one ‘a those jumbo prizes. Say, Scotty, do you want, like, a giant Mighty Mouse?”

“Maximoff.” Scott replied sternly, without a beat of hesitation. His frustration oozed through the speakers, and Peter could feel guilt itching at his conscience.

In the background, Peter overheard someone - though he couldn’t guess who - mutter a, “Is Mighty Mouse even a thing anymore?” Oh. Once Peter returned, he’d be in for it. Royally fucked. Figuratively, and, thankfully, literally. In the short, momentary instance of silence between walkie communication; Peter disposed of the condom and straightened himself out. He disappeared for a millisecond, snatching a fresh towel from some luxury bath shop all the way in Paris. Dousing the cloth in warm water, he wiped you clean upon his ultra speedy arrival. Before helping you redress, making you look…somewhat presentable. 

“Fine. I totally get it, okay? Look, man. I’m sorry. But can ya really blame me fer wantin' to hang after the experience I just had? Doesn’t matter. Be there in a flash. M-Maybe don’t tell Hank, though. If you can hel-” Peter rambled sheepishly, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He stepped backwards, extending a hand for you to take. 

“Pietro Maximoff, I am beside myself with you!” Hank started, clearly agitated, cutting Peter off.

Peter groaned, mumbling quietly to himself as you took his hand, “He told Hank. He did it. He fuckin’ told him. Shit. I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.” In a motion to guide you off the operating table, Peter pulled you forward by your hand.

“I have several questions. Why would you bring an undead creature to an arcade? What were your motivations behind taking the creature out, on a recreational activity? The potential danger or damage to the arcade and its patrons is far too high. And, furthermore, Peter, is there any scientific value to observing a zombie around arcade equipment? I understand you have this insatiable need to act out, but this is ridiculous! It is our duty, as members of the X-Men, to protect humanity from all threats. Including potential zombie related incidents at public arcades. Now then, please return the specimen immediately for further observation.” Hank ranted on and on and on and on-

A noise, like fabric tearing, cut uncomfortably through the air. Weak stitching around your elbow ripped loose, and Peter pulled your forearm clean off. Hank’s tirade met an abrupt end, as a blood curdling scream rocked the entire room. “Peter? Peter?? What’s happened? Peter, are you alright?” Hank panicked over the walkie.

Past the edge of terrified, shocked to the point of nearly pissing himself; Peter screamed. He wiggled his hand, trying to let go of your lone arm. But your hand held his tightly, your grip refusing to ease up. Once he finally freed himself, he expected your arm to drop to the floor. But your little fingers moved, crawling like spider legs. A zombie’s dislodged arm creeped up Peter’s shoulder over his jacket. Some real, Evil Dead kinda shit. He smacked at it, shouting like a housewife frightened by a mere mouse.

“YEAH!I’mfineI’mgreatI’mawesomesorryit’snothing.” Peter responded, rushed and unclear, “O-Over?” He cringed, scowling as you hopped off the operating table to retrieve your missing arm.

“...Pardon?” Hank asked, tone puzzled. Peter swallowed, shuddering while you pulled your freakish, deadite arm off his shoulder, “Are you…sure you’re alright, Peter? What’s going on? You’ve been acting awful strange tonight. Is there something on your mind?”

A lot. Peter had so much on his mind. Like, the totally real fact that he boned an undead, Frankenstein babe, for one.

“Uhm. It’s-...it’s nothing. Seriously, don’t even worry, Beastie. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Just-uhm…lab’s still-...there was some thunder, and the building-uh-” Peter nervously rambled, struggling to find his words, “Over.”

Another pause drew out long enough for Peter to realize his mistake. He cursed, smacking himself on the side of the head. How could he be scatterbrained, to forget his own lies in a matter of seconds? He had a feeling, deep in his gut; Hank would rip him a new one tonight once he got back. “...The lab? Peter…didn’t you just tell us you were at an arcade?” Hank asked, reasonably suspicious.

Peter’s voice broke as he replied, “I mEAN-” He cleared his throat, “Uhhh-...heh. I-I ran back! Forgot-uh...there was somethin’ I forgot. Like I said, doesn’t matter. I’m totally fine! I’m juuust peachy! Hang tight. I’ll be right there. Over and out.” Peter took a second to collect himself, clipping his walkie to his belt. He silenced the device, ignoring any further questions from Hank. Subconsciously, Peter took a step back as you reached for him again. His veins vibrated with a buzz of adrenaline. With your arm dismembered, you moved abruptly forward. Nuzzling your face into Peter’s chest, the same way you had all night. Still just as smitten with him. Groggy purrs rumbled in your throat.

Rolling his eyes, Peter patted your head, smoothing out your ragged, messy hair, “What am I gonna do with you? Yer nothin’ but trouble, y’know that?” He teased, pinching one of your cold cheeks, “Whaddya say we get outta here already? But I gotta make a couple ‘a pit stops. And you gotta behave yerself. Don’t get any funny ideas about eatin’ anybody.” Peter wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close. Pointing at you with an accusatory finger. 

You tilted your head, confused again. Peter really couldn’t get enough of that cute, clueless look. Hank and Scott had no idea what they were talkin’ about. His zombie buddy? Totally harmless. You’d never even hurt a fly.

Okay. First order of business. Find a Mighty Mouse plush, just to really sell his arcade story. After that, he planned on snatching you some nicer clothes. Anything to protect your modesty. Thirdly, Peter wanted to teach himself some gnarly makeup tricks. Cover up his hickies. Yeah. No sweat! He could do all that in a flash.

Oh. And late night pancakes. Peter refused to skimp out on those. He’d been craving them all night, and his body desperately needed to replenish its energy. Surely, the gang back home wouldn’t mind. After everything, they totally wouldn’t be supremely pissed and fed up with Peter’s bullshit. And the waitress serving at whatever diner he picked? She wouldn’t bat an eye at some undead, zombified customer, would she?

Why's he even kidding himself?

Gathering Hank’s files, Peter tucked them under his arm. He zipped around in search of whatever other knick-knacks he lost, including his fallen flashlight. Stepping towards you, Peter brought his earbuds to your ears. He exchanged the tape in his Walkman for another, aiming to keep you entertained with music while he traveled at superspeed. As soon as the tune graced your ears, you leapt in place. Squeaking a surprise chirp. Your shoulders bunched, and you darted your hazy eyes around.

“Hey, easy, easy-” Peter reassured, cranking the volume down low so you could still hear him, “It’s just music, baby. It’s nice, right? You like it? You like-uh…you like the Monster Mash? Crypt Kickers? Bobby Pickett?” He gestured with his hands, suggestively raising his brows, “We had a graveyard smash, didn't we, eh?” You simply stared at him, clueless as usual. Huffing, Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Seriously. What am I gonna do with you?”

You clutched your dislodged arm tight, cradling the appendage close. Throwing a quick glance your way, Peter shook his head. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and braced a warm hand at the back of your neck. The few seconds before he took off, he leaned in close. Hearing that Halloween melody playing from the earphones you wore, he quietly sang along.

As much as he liked cuddling ‘Ro on Halloween, horror movie nights; A new idea crossed his mind. He might just snuggle up on the couch with someone special this year. 

[seeingstarks]

weight of two souls

summary : it's thanksgiving and neither you or phil want to leave each others arms to go and meet the family. does it even happen? pairing : cm punk x afab!reader cw : pure fluff, cuddling, kissing, hip/thigh squeezing, cursing, nose nuzzling, babygirl/good girl & king/queen nicknames, innuendos "sound proof walls" / "taking his scepter" a/n : can you tell how much i've been missing the old man? x) i've been working on this for about a week or so and put my entire heart & soul into it. please reblog!! keep rude comments to yourself. <33 there may be a few spelling/grammar errors. word count : 1,291 words tag list : @harmshake gif credit : @adamjf

once the leaves started to fall your mood did the opposite, haunting month passing by in an instant.

calender flipping to november, the days went by agonizingly slow, this being one of your least favorite months of the season.

thanksgiving was soon approaching and your family always wanted to make it this huge get together. no being anti-social and locking yourself away, wishing you could every year. atleast they allowed you to bring a friend from work, if you could call him that.

the chicago native was more than a friend to you, he stayed up with you through your worst nights, steeping you both fresh cups of tea and/or coffee even if it meant catching up on sleep the next day, as long as he knew you were okay.

ever since he laid eyes on you, he made a best friend with just a simple hello and allowing you to pet his dog, larry. restless nights sharing deep dish pizza and mindy's eventually lead to cuddling, his inked arms wrapped around you, placing a kiss to his scruffy cheek.

the alarm clock chirping as sun peaked through your blackout curtains, neither of you wanted to get up for the morning - well afternoon.

you were the first to wake up, groggy eyed with phil having his arms snug around your waist, sleeping soundly except for his snoring which could wake up the entire neighborhood. larry decided to seek slumber at the foot of your bed, his head propped up on the chicago native's leg.

managing to shift away from his grasp, you hit the alarm clock with a clenched hand in hopes it would stop the commotion.

"rise and shine sleeping beauty, one hour 'til we meet my family. much as i don't wanna' go.. you promised to tag along for the torture."

phil didn't budge until you deciding to smack him with a pillow, "i'm up! i'm up!" he half-yelled, removing his hands from under the warm covers in an attempt to shield his face.

"a simple g'mornin' kiss would've woken me up too, y'know."

yawning and stretching his arms out, phil took his sweet old time getting ready while you on the other hand began to brush your hair out. bristles making contact with the h/c strands, they untangled after a few more brushes, setting it to the side and entering your closet.

luckily, you prepared your ensemble a night beforehand, slipping out of your clothing from the previous evening and stepping into a pair of black underwear with white polka-dots.

lifting your arms up to put on a shirt, you were met with a firm pair of arms which wrapped around your curvy frame, his lips placing gentle kisses along your neckline.

"mm, phil- could stay like this forever but we gotta' finish getting ready." you informed and looked up into his light brown hues with a playful smile.

"not complaining but i'm more ready than you are- atleast i have pants." shaking your head at the chicago native who indeed had pants on, but no shirt.

you raised an arm up to trace his pepsi tattoo, almost lost in a trance - simply enjoying the moment and his warm embrace as you remained standing still, being held close.

glancing over at your alarm clock, ten minutes seemed to pass by swiftly. spending all day in with your love would usually be no issue, but today you both had plans.

pouting softly and burying your head into the crook of his neck, you debated staying in and bailing on family dinner.

"so cozy.. don't wanna' move." you peeked up at phil, removing your head from his shoulder as he kept his arms securely around your waist, giving your hips a slight squeeze.

tongue darting out between his lips, the chicago native licked them, "i know babygirl... but think of all the cuddles we can get in afterwards. you're my favorite little spoon."

"i better be your only-" before having the chance to finish your sentence, phil captured your lips in a deep kiss one which you returned happily, "you're the only person i want to wake up next to every morning, binge watch horror movies with and much more. i'm so fuckin' lucky to have you in my life, y/n - but we truly should get goin' soon if we don't want to be late." he spoke sincerely although a half-chuckle escaped his lips, a few noticeable smile lines showing.

nodding, you captured his gaze only looking away when blinking - "you mean so much to me, phil. i felt as if there was a missing puzzle piece in my life.. and no matter how hard i tried nothing seemed to fit until you came along. we're the perfect match." placing your forehead against his, the two of you nuzzled noses briefly prior to pulling away from one another.

phil finished getting ready by throwing on his t-shirt which read i'm a collision girl in white letters across the back, tying up his sneakers. you did the same, sporting combat boots and a pair of black pants.

it was a miracle you and phil managed to make it out of the door in time, grabbing your keys and starting the engine up as larry sat buckled in the backseat pampered with dog treats.

"first time i'm officially meeting your family. do they know what to expect?" the chicago native asked, you had told your family about phil countless times.

the fact he was your boyfriend going on six months now and how he treated you perfectly. his queen who could hold a throne all on her own, independent but yearning for a partner. someone to feel safe with - who wouldn't hurt you like past partners. phil was your king - protecting you from harm, trying his best to keep the dark thoughts at bay, you doing the same for him.

"haven't shut up about you ever since we met. if my father heard the words cm punk or phil leave my mouth one more time they may have tried to disown me." you laughed, keeping your eyes on the road.

"ah, well it's a good thing we have sound proof walls - ever since the neighbors complained and when my babygirl gets needy, isn't that right?" you nodded, cheeks a bit flustered as phil placed a hand to your thigh, giving yet another squeeze, while you reached a stop light letting out a whine.

"what's the matter?" phil asked with a smug smirk along his face, causing you to roll your eyes over at him.

"best behavior, daddy-" words betrayed you while squirming under his touch, desperate for more. a loud horn halted you from any obscene thoughts running through your mind, the light turning from red to green as you began to drive again.

the ride wasn't too much longer, a brisk breeze going throughout the car as you cracked the window open for larry, he would let out the occasional bark when stopping by his favorite restaurants, one bakery in particular catching your own eye.

"want to make a quick stop for some sweets?" you asked already entering the parking lot.

"hell yeah, but won't be be late?"

"exactly my point." phil took your suggestion, wishing to spend the rest of the holiday with him only and not your family.

bell dinging as you two entered the bakery hand in hand with fingers linking together, a variety of treats on display behind glass.

"let's get some muffins to go. 'wanna spoil my queen," he leaned closer and whispered against your ear, "while you take my scepter like the good girl you are."

mr. and mrs. best in the world has a nice ring to it, don't ya think?

[isa-ghost]

Do you have any headcanons as far as Philza and BBHs' relationship? I've enjoyed thinking about that because I think it's one of the few relationships on Philza's side that's actually a bit more complicated? But also Philza saying that BBH wouldn't lie is the funniest thing ever.

Or if no headcanons about Philza and BBH specifically what about Philza, Bad, and Cellbit as a trio in charge of the order because I really loved that

OOOH this is gonna be an interesting challenge because I don't watch a lot of Bad :0!

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Obligatory they're both thousands of years old mention. There's some things they can talk about and relate on that no one else on the island can. MAYBE Foolish, but Foolish tends to just focus on the present and vibe. Phil and Bad though, in the right conditions, they could and will have deep conversations about the past and their experiences.

On that note holy fucking shit these two would be terrifying teamed up together. If the Feds ever do something harmful or permanent to the eggs, god help them when these two decide they're armed enough and hatch a plan. They'll rain hell on the entire island and then some. And every other parent will be more than willing to join them. Do Not Piss Off The Immortal Murder Dads.

Phil could tell clearly that Bad is part demon. Finding out he was part reaper was a surprise. Honestly with how much of a lil trickster Bad is, Phil is surprised he isn't part Fae or something.

Phil takes one look at how Bad goes "no idea what you're talking about, nothing happened :D" about stuff like him Literally Dying and is like [uncanny Mr Incredible] "at least I'm not that bad." Phil just (very poorly) hides things and says he's fine. He doesn't straight up deny anything happened (and couldn't convincingly act like nothing is wrong the way Bad can if he tried)

Missa is a reaper. Bad is a reaper. Phil wants to see them talk about reaper things together. Or see them both in action. He himself can also carry small conversations about it since he's learned so much through osmosis :D

Actually that's kinda why Phil feared Bad so much during Purgatory. That was him in action. And he never wants to be on an opposing side of it again.

He doesn't resent Bad for Purgatory btw he just jokes like it sometimes. Same as with Tubbo (or anyone else for that matter), he blames the Watcher for trying to destroy their friendships.

Has straight up looked Bad in the eyes like "are you aware you are raising the most terrifying egg. Are you." He genuinely thinks if Dapper wanted to, he could kill Phil in his sleep. Every time he sees Dapper, he's learned something new and insane.

Tbh Phil sometimes envies how full of whimsy Bad is. He's seen infinitely more horrors than Phil for sure, yet he always ironically seems like a little ball of sunshine despite being a literal shadow lookin demon. What The Fuck is this man's secret to staying so silly.

Phil is endlessly fascinated by the extent to which Bad can come up with more and new protections for the eggs. He thinks of stuff not even remotely on Phil's radar. See, Phil's a safety expert as a survivalist, but most of his skills involve using what's around you and your wits, because survival is largely about relying only on yourself because you rarely have any other choice. Bad on the other hand will not hesitate to seek out new tech, other people, or tinker and experiment until he discovers new ways to use anything and everything he can get his hands on. Phil admires how intuitive he is.

Also Bad is really good at making bases and Phil enjoys seeing how balanced the aesthetics and practical parts are. Bad can make something look cozy and lavish as hell while also putting like a billion farms and gadgets into it.

I wonder how a conversation about possession would go. :) Surely Bad has some insight on it as a demon?

Something about how the two of them have arguably the most horrific egg death nightmares. I don't know where to go with this but goddamn would Crows and Ghosties be feasting.

Actually wait shut up, I just realized something kinda cute. In the same way Phil can talk to birds (particularly crows ofc), Bad can talk to the dead/undead (particularly ghosts). Imagine the sillies that could come out of that. It's said that animals can see the dead, what if Phil's murder conspires with the ghosts that follow Bad around ;D

The moment Phil would use his wings if they were healed, Bad would clock that he's the Angel of Death. I'm not sure he saw Phil flying during Purgatory, but if he did, he knows. And that would lead to many interesting conversations. :)

[blossoms-phan]

will never pass up the opportunity, so! i am asking. what are your phanfic recommendations?

ask (honoured!) and you shall receive bestie! quick preface: i returned to the wonderful world of reading phanfic around the start of this year and have admittedly missed out on years of incredible work i am now catching up on! also in terms of what i read i generally lean towards current-era fics, canon compliant/fluff/smut- although i'm always taking recs from lovely moots/whoever, you may find this isn't the largest range (no aus/long chapter fics or whatever) but this is just a selection of what i've discovered/loved in the past few months and i hope to make more of these as i discover more writings!

shoutout to everyone on here for their recs, all the incredible fanfic writers and the peeps at @phanfictioncatalogue for their work and accessibility and being the reason i discovered so many new fics/tropes i now love <3 ok lets get into ittttttttt

"you look at my face a lot" by natigail: i credit this fic for getting me into reading phanfic again in 2024 <3 one of the first ones i read post-hiatus and i've returned to it countless times! it makes my heart jump, just so sweet and so them. the slittening(s) were such an iconic moment i can't believe it's been 6+ months since them but i love the little moments like dan describing phil's hair colour to a sephora worker, always wanting to know more about each other and the soft intimacy.

"the angel in the marble" by ivylakes: OHH MY GOODNESS this one is artttt. this one is my fave of the post-phlondeing fics i can just see and feel everything that happens, the loving, lazy intimacy, and following this week's t-shirt events it absolutely cements my HC that angel is a nickname for our philly. introspection, hair-kissing, body worship- i eat it up (im having a thing for mirrors in fics rn so there's also that)

"slumber party" by possumdnp: if i wasn't already clear reality-based fics really just do it for me and i love this one!! slumber party is one of my favourite recent-ish gaming vids and i just love the cozy comfort vibes of having a sleepover and getting a little flirty with your best friend/crush going on 15 years <3

"after the birthday stream" by trashcanfromgallifrey: the birthday stream ignited something in all of us but this is just such a perfect depiction of (possible) events after hehe. feels so them, just love the loving intimacy and shower activities and fluffy endings with cake <3 (shoutout hannah ily!!)

"lovers, keep on the road you're on" by possumdnp: another personal fave. japhan 2019 is EVERYTHING to me, this is so lovely and well-researched and i just go in between reading this and watching the stories from it when i want to cry and book a flight to tokyo

"welcome home! (never leave that long again)" by natigail: this one is just soooooo soft and sweet and fluffy. so heartwarming and one of the many wad reunion fics that has my heart <3

ok i'm going to end up including all 40+ of my bookmarks (not a lot. but working on it hehe) if i don't stop myself so as much as i could write paragraphs about all of these just know that my PPA test is positive and i was probably sweating/giggling/kicking my feet at all of these so here's a speedrun list of pure smut (sorry it's a lot of what i read lmao):

"juxtaposition", "slow down", "sensitive", "some kind of mood" and literally everything written by the force that is intoapuddle

"come light me up" by JudeAraya (perhap not pure smut but I loveeee the teasing and characterization in this so so dan ugh)

"appreciation" by Scuddleduck

"a little vitamin D" by Spring_Haze

"good for you, good for you" and "under my thumb" by dvp_95

"lucky" by iihappydaysii

i could keep going but for now i'm going to stop here! i'm sorry if this is messy i have no idea what i'm doing with linking and stuff but i hope this introduces at least one person to a new fic they end up loving! i lurked/read sooo many fics before finally creating an a03 account only a little over a month ago so i def might be missing some i've forgotten to go back and bookmark! shoutout to all of these writers (i could include multiple works from them all u ppl are amazing)- again i'm soo open to discovering more phanfic and want to expand my horizons, i've started to read some chaptered fics i didn't include on here but will reblog more current reads where i can! also if we're moots pls shamelessly promote your works i'd love to check them out! need to start commenting more too but ok ok wrapping it up

[lennjamin-o7]

Okay, so, (mcd)

Osmp. Techno is a human who lives in the valley of hybrids. He’s living life.

Do people sometimes make comments about humans? About how selfish and cruel and terrible they are? Yeah, but they were hunted, makes sense. Can’t blame them, really. (They’re kind enough to pretend they don’t know he’s human.)

(They forget that he’s human, most of the time)

Things are mostly harmonious until the magical barrier protecting their valley is broken by hunters. Everyone evacuates to the bunker, which is actually really nice. Light is provided by glowy blue crystals in the corridors, there’s public areas like the kitchen, dining area, library, and there’s even private bedrooms.

But everyone is stuck, and there’s a LOT of hunters outside. Sooner or later, they’ll be found, and the bunker will be cracked.

So they look for a solution. In the armory, there’s a few magical tomes, and one of them seems to have the perfect solution (the book is black magic, and black magic always has a price)

Phil and Nikki look over the book as the two who know things about magic. They find the best way to mitigate the risks of the spell, which requires some careful wording about who the target is.

Philza does rounds updating everyone, and meets Techno in his room to tell him about the spell. They’ve selected the words so that it will only target humans. Nikki is setting up the spell now, and she’ll cast it as soon as it’s ready.

Phil is a little confused by Techno’s subdued reaction. But Phil is busy. He doesn’t think about it too hard.

Techno knows this kind of thing, how could he not? In the arena, so long ago, sacrifices happened every day.

Techno remembers the first time he saw Phil, thrown into his cell in the underside of the arena. He’d explained to the winged man the basics of how it worked, the fight for survival.

Only a couple months later, Techno is hurt, the wound infected, and Techno has to explain how the title of arena champion is passed down.

Techno has been champion for a few years, an unusually long time. But that starts to get boring for the audience after a while. So the arena organizers wait until the champion is, hurt, and face them off in a death match against the next best fighter.

Techno knows the next best fighter is Philza. Knows he can’t beat Phil in his current state. He’s glad that someone he knows will be the one there with him. That’s more than he thought he’d have, when the time came.

Philza refuses to accept it, and plans an escape for the championship dual.

It’s not easy, especially with Techno injured and feverish, but they escape and eventually make it to the valley.

So Techno understands sacrifice.

And he’s had a few years of freedom here. The best years of his life.

More than a human like him deserved, really.

Techno asks Phil to stay with him, just until the spell is over.

Phil says no, that as soon as Nikki finishes the spell, he’ll need to scout the area to make sure that it worked. Phil should get back as soon as possible.

Techno tells Phil that he understands, and Phil leaves to go find Nikki.

Techno collapses. He knew it was selfish to ask Phil to stay, but… he didn’t want to be alone. He knew something like this would happen eventually, and everyone had been so kind to let a cruel thing like him live among them.

Huddled in a corner of his room, Techno clutches one of Phil’s feathers close to his chest, and pretends that he’s not alone.

Soon enough, the spell settles over the valley, and Techno can’t seem to breathe. His chest burns, he fights for air, but it’s like the air doesn’t exist anymore.

Blackness encroaches on Techno’s vision. Things feel far away. He’s fallen on his side, now.

The lack of oxygen causes a hallucination. And for a time, Techno’s not there in the bunker. He’s in a bed after he and Phil escaped the arena, Phil is tending to the infected wound, promises of care and safety makes the room cozy, Phil’s gentle touch soothing.

And then Techno is gone.

Phil’s back from scouting, with amazing news. All the hunters are dead.

Now Phil makes his way to Techno’s room, knocks on the door, calling out to let Techno know that he’s back.

No answer. Weird.

Phil gets a bad feeling.

The door’s unlocked, though, so Phil lets himself in. Techno’s kerosene lantern is burning on low, and Phil turns it up to get a good view of the room. Freezes.

Alarm bells go off inside Phil’s head.

Techno is laying in the corner, and his face looks kind of blue, and this isn’t right.

Phil runs over to check on him, but Techno is stiff and cold. It’s too late.

And then it hits Phil. Techno looks the same as those hunters, with the blue tinge of magical asphyxiation. The spell targeted humans. Techno was human. How could Phil have been so stupid? Why didn’t Techno say anything?

The funeral is a couple days later, in a beautiful clearing framed by old oak and willow trees.

Phil remembered when he first brought Techno to this community. He had sworn to Techno that he would be safe here.

Phil was a liar.

Phil never seemed quite right after Techno died. He seemed to forget, sometimes, that Techno was gone.

Often, community members would look for him in the morning only to be unable to find him until later, dirty as though he had been lying on the ground.

One day after a particularly cold night with snow on the ground, Phil didn’t show up.

They found him later that day, Phil had fallen asleep on Techno’s grave, and never woke up.

Wow, friend. I give you permission to send me AU's and you send me something HEARTBREAKING AND BEAUTIFUL..Holy SHIT. That hurts so much. They think of him so much as "one of them" that they don't even realize they have chosen to hurt and abandon him. Holy shit. Damn.

So good, but OW.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (19)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader) (?who knows at this point..)

(*SCREAMING UNTIL MY VOICE IS GONE* hahahaha i'm finally done with this devil forsaken chapter! I literally cannot articulate HOW hard this chapter was, for who knows what reason! I don't know why but this chapter was a struggle. like some trial a fucking greek god would give me to make me stronger or whatever. but.. I did it finally. PLEASE reblog and comment so I can feel like the pain I went through was worth it y'all 😭🥺👉👈)

—————

Bored.

That’s been his general state of things for about.. I don’t know, maybe 5 months? At least since he’d finished taking part in that last pvp tournament on the championship battle server. But the battle season has finished and he’s not found anything new to hold his attention. 

And Phil was busy working on a new build that's taken up his attention. And Techno would help but he knows Phil wants to do it himself, the man is so picky about his builds so Techno just leaves him be. Usually by now someone would have got in contact to hire him for his war faring services. Some kingdom or warring faction, looking for someone well versed in battle and strategy to help them turn the tides. But-

A yellow feather fluttering into his field of vision followed by the sound of flapping wings made the red eyed hybrid look up to see an incoming parrot holding a rolled up letter tied to its leg.

“Well, speak of the devil or whatever,” Techno said in his usual monotone drawl as the parrot landed on his shoulder.

It held its leg out and he took the offered scroll before reaching into his inventory to grab some seeds to feed it. Then once it was happily munching away he unrolled the letter, wondering which server it could be from. Probably some new upstart one inhabited by a bunch of idiots with conflicting opinions who don’t realize they can just go separate directions and end it. That was usually how it went. People were all the same. They find out their opinions don’t match up, they bicker over it, they fight, someone invariably gets killed, they wage war, and then rinse and repeat. 

But as he read the letter he realized it wasn’t from just anybody. It was from Wilbur, Philza’s kid. Jeez, he hasn’t seen him in what feels like one hundred years. 

Huh, when was the last time he’d seen the bespectacled boy? He actually can’t recall. He thinks back, far back, scouring his memory for instances with Wilbur. He remembers his round glasses, his warm yellow sweater, and his love for anything music. Techno recalls how Wilbur had always detested battle, fighting, anything like that. Hell, he hadn’t even liked wearing armor, even when it was for his own good. Which Techno thought was both foolish and endearing. He himself was always suited to battle, falling into it like how a bird takes to the skies. But he’d always seen Wilbur as so far removed from being suitable for violence. 

All the younger man had ever said he wanted to do was sing, play music, and write. He truly had the heart of a poet, that was for sure. Getting him to learn some basic defense so he could travel to the nearby villages on his own without being a sitting duck had been similar to pulling teeth for Philza, his son always treating the lessons like a chore. But he and Phil had managed to teach him enough self defense so he could be safe out on his own, at least from the mobs. And once that was handled then Philza didn’t feel so worried leaving his boy home alone, meaning he and Techno could go traveling again.

And Wilbur hadn’t been bothered by this either, seeming to enjoy having some time to himself when his father and Techno were out. They always came home to Wilbur playing his guitar either outside in the yard, enjoying the sun, or inside by the fire to stay cozy. He’d been perfectly content. 

And then one day they came home and Wilbur hadn’t been alone like he’d always been before. He’d had some kid with him, a little boy who actually bore a strong resemblance to Philza, what with his blond hair and blue eyes. That had been more than a shock, he’ll admit. Walking in and seeing Wilbur with some random kid they’d never seen before, just sitting on the floor in front of the couch like it was no big deal.

Yeah, that had been Tommy, and according to Wilbur he’d found him eating out of the trash in the village so he’d brought him home. Of course. When Philza asked where Tommy’s parents were, the kid had wrinkled his nose and said they were probably at home. That had turned into them grilling the kid, trying to figure out where their house was so Wilbur could return him. 

But Tommy had kicked up a huge fuss, shouting about how he left on his own and he was never going back. From how he’d described it, his parents hadn’t been the best. Not even close actually, they’d sounded like shit to be honest. I mean if your toddler is willing to up and leave with zero intention of going back to you, like 100% willing to eat out of the trash instead of staying with you then yeah you’re probably a shit tier parent.

Wilbur had begged Philza to let Tommy stay with them. He had nowhere else to go and leaving him out on the street seemed messed up and he was so little, it’s not like he’d take up much space anyways. Yeah, Wilbur admitted the kid kinda ate a lot but no more than he guessed all kids ate… But they had a huge garden and some cows so it wasn’t a huge deal, right? 

Techno had been against it, they’d JUST started getting back to traveling again since Wilbur was old enough and capable enough to look after himself now. He’d argued that they didn’t need another little gremlin running around touching their stuff. He’d been eyeing the little blond boy as he stared openly at Techno’s own enchanted sword that was strapped to his belt. He’d tucked it into his inventory to keep it away from the kid and his no doubt grimy little fingers. 

But Philza had always been such a sap when it came to Wilbur and his ‘sad boy eyes’. So he’d ended up folding like a house of cards pretty quick, though he’d warned Wilbur that the kid, Tommy, was his responsibility. Philza wasn’t going to start looking after him when he’d not had any hand in taking him in. So Tommy’s well being was now solely in Wilbur’s hands. 

Phil had actually been really serious at that part, asking Wilbur if he knew what he was getting into? Because Phil knew how hard it was to care for a child, it was exhausting and sometimes thankless, and you can’t just stop whenever you want because someone defenseless now relies on you.

Wilbur hadn’t been dissuaded though, and pulled the shorter boy close in a half hug, saying he’d be the best big brother ever! Nevermind the child had started gnawing on the arm Wilbur had around him.. Techno couldn’t help but roll his eyes back then and even now as he remembered that promise. But Wilbur seemed happy at least, and neither Phil nor Techno would have to take care of the kid so it hadn’t been so bad. And later when they were alone Phil shared that he was actually glad that Wilbur wouldn’t be alone at home anymore. He’d felt bad leaving his boy all alone, even though he could defend himself. 

Techno assured him that Wilbur was a big boy now, practically an adult himself. So he didn’t need Phil worrying about him so much. Phil had laughed and said that was true but he couldn’t stop worrying, it was a parent thing. You never truly stop worrying about your kid. Techno figured that made sense but still told Phil that that was one of the reasons why he wasn’t having kids, too much stress. Techno’s a busy guy, he can’t be losing sleep over some helpless nerds. That had gotten Phil to laugh, which had been Techno’s goal. So, goal accomplished. 

Things had been good after that. At least that’s how Techno remembered them to be. Him and Phil would travel and explore to their heart’s content, coming back to the house every now and again to take a break and check up on the brunet and blond. The kid grew like a weed, looking taller and taller with each visit. Him and Wilbur growing closer in height as well as their bond, soon acting like true brothers. 

Wilbur had been so happy, and Techno remembers the last time he’d seen him. Him and Phil returned home for another short time between tournaments. They’d walked up to the forest surrounded property they’d called home to see Wil lounging against the porch, guitar in hand with Tommy chasing around a bee, trying to catch it.

They looked so peaceful. And Techno thought that’d never change.

..But reading his letter now made Techno’s stomach sink a bit. 

Wilbur was asking for his help. His professional help.. Looks like he’d joined a server not too long ago and started his own nation; L’manberg. Technoblade couldn’t help but close his eyes in annoyance while pinching the bridge of his nose at hearing that. Nothing good ever came from governments, if he’d said that once he’s said it a million times. To the point where if he were a cartoon character from the 80’s then it’d be his damn catchphrase. But people just keep making and joining governments, even Wilbur it seemed.. 

And from the tone of the letter it looked like Wilbur was in big trouble. 

Techno scrubbed his hand down his face, his snout scrunching as he turned the letter over in his mind a few times before sighing and taking out his ender chest. With some mild annoyance he decided to help Wilbur out with his war. Better than sitting around being bored out of his mind at any rate. So he composed a letter back to the brunet, letting him know his services wouldn’t be cheap just because they knew each other, but he’d gladly help him turn the tides. Once that letter was done he handed it over to the parrot, watching it fly off back to Wilbur.

Then on a whim he decided to compose another letter, this time to Phil, letting him know what his son was up to. But knowing the winged man, he’d probably just find the whole thing amusing. 

“Well.. I better get packed while I wait for Wilbur’s reply,” Techno said before heading back to his house.

-0-

You carried Azo in your arms as the four of you walked back to L’manburg from the nether portal. Internally you were still seething at Wilbur, you knew what he’d done, to a child of all people. You knew Wilbur, deeper and more intimately than he would ever be comfortable with. But you’d held out hope he’d never sink so low as to harm a child.. You’d really clung to the sliver of hope, despite everything you’d seen him do in the lore streams..

But now you knew with a sad certainty how low he was willing to go for what he wanted. And you wanted nothing more than to sink your teeth into his throat and rend his esophagus from its place in his neck before crushing his skull between your palms. Your jaws ached with the fervent desire to cause the vile bastard as much pain physically as he’d caused you and your children mentally and emotionally. 

Though instead of succumbing to those feral desires you instead took a long measured breath in through your nose before letting it out through your mouth, just trying to calm your white hot rage since you needed to focus on the three kids you had with you and not the dead man walking over in fuckin Pogtopia~

You all got to your house and you mentally focused on how too small it was for your family now. Tommy and Tubbo already had their own rooms at your place despite each having their own homes elsewhere. You noticed they usually stayed here at night to sleep, which you were fine with. You preferred it actually, knowing they were safe in bed at night under your roof. But with Azo staying here full time you’d need to make her her own bedroom. 

Planning that out calmed your rage thankfully. Turned the magma level heat into a soft manageable simmer. Looking down at the little piglin in your arms made you feel so much better. Things weren’t perfect, no, but you’re just so glad she’s okay. You almost lost her and the thought makes your heart feel like it was being tugged out of your chest. But she’s okay. Things are okay. 

You remind yourself of this as you carry your baby through the threshold of your, and now her, home. You breathe and stop at the kitchen, telling the three it’s around lunch time and you’d make them some food. Both boys cheered and sat at the table, while you sat Azo on your hip with one arm while using the other to grab some stuff out of the ice box you kept around to hold food for the two teens. 

Azo watched you pull things out with curiosity, not sure what any of them were. Which sent a pang of sadness through you because you know you’ve let her try most of these before but she clearly didn’t remember it. Though you cheered yourself up with the knowledge that she could just try them all over again, rediscover her favorites and least favorites. You still remember the way her little snout had wrinkled up in distaste when she’d first tried a slice of lemon. That had been hilarious and you’d wished you had some way to record it to keep the memory forever, but oh well. 

“Mum, can you make us some of that fruit flower tea?” Tubbo asked from his spot at the table.

You smiled and said sure, and reached into the cabinet for the jar of tea you’d made for them not too long ago. You figured a warm meal and warm tea would be better for Azo right now since introducing her to cold stuff in the Overworld, which was already colder than the Nether, would be too much too soon. You noticed with a frown that she already seemed to be chilly. So while the tea was steeping you went over to the couch and grabbed the wool throw off the back and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. She snorted happily at the sudden barrier from the chill this new world seemed to have.

“We’re gonna have to get you some new clothes, kiddo. Some that keep you warmer than your current ones do,” You said as you went to put some meat skewers onto the smoker and some potatoes in the furnace to bake.

You hummed and swayed your hips back and forth slowly as you watched the food cook. Then the tea was ready and you took Azo to the table and pulled a couple books from your inventory before sitting them on the chair, then you set her on top of them so she could reach the tabletop. She snuggled into the blanket around her while you went to fix the tea.

After giving each kid a cup you finished up the food and sat with them so they could eat. You idly listened as Tubbo and Tommy both talked to Azo, telling her all about L’manberg and their friends, and how they were going to show her around soon maybe.

You just let yourself zone out, taking comfort in your kids all being safe in one place right now.

-0-

Quackity had thought over what he and Reader had discussed the day they started rebuilding the White House. She said he had to make a decision since Schlatt had basically bailed on L’manberg. And she’d also said he’d deserved better than how Schlatt treated him. He’d honestly not wanted to think about that. Because thinking about her words made him throw his entire relationship into question. Did he deserve better than Schlatt? He wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he did then why did he deserve better? 

He didn’t want to start dumping on Schlatt, because they’d honestly had so many good times together. Great ones. They’d vibed so well while dating, Quackity can’t count how many times the ram had made him laugh his ass off. Just them two hanging out, sharing some drinks, spending nights out on the town in other SMPs, it was some of the best times of Quackity’s life. Even now, thinking about those times brought a smile (and soft flush) to the duck hybrids face. I mean Schlatt was charismatic, funny, and knew how to make his knees feel like jelly. Plus he had a few other good qualities he didn’t want to focus on too much in public..

But his smile faded away as those sweet memories made way for the not so sweet ones. Things had been great, yeah, but only when Schlatt wasn’t in a bad mood. Now that Quackity actually thinks about it there was always the worry of Schlatt’s good mood evaporating looming over their relationship. If he wasn’t happy then his bad mood sucked the good atmosphere right out of the room. It could be suffocating. The first few times it happened he’d try to give the ram hybrid some space, figuring he’d get over it. But that usually led to arguments, Schlatt asking if Quackity planned to leave any time things weren’t going perfect. That’d made him feel like shit, so he’d started doing all he could to keep the good vibes going.

Quackity isn’t sure when he’d gotten used to it but soon things fell into a rhythm of things being super great and awesome followed by something pissing on Schlatt’s good mood, then him being an asshole, Quackity doing everything he could think of to cheer him up, and then everything repeating in that cycle. It could feel exhausting at times but he just supposed that was just how relationships were supposed to be. But after what Reader said.. he was starting to question if that was right or not. He’d been so conflicted that he’d broken down and asked Karl for advice for a ‘friend of his’ who was having relationship issues.

He’d lied and said it was for a girl he was friends with on another server who was having issues with her girlfriend. Karl had listened to his edited version of events and told Quackity his friend was in a not very good relationship and she should break up with her girlfriend before things got even worse. That had just made his stomach sink further but he played it cool and thanked Karl for hearing him out, and he’d talk to his friend later and tell her what he thought she should do. Karl gave him a sweet smile and wrapped his arm around the dark haired male in a side hug before replying,

“Don’t worry, man. That’s what friends are for. Tell your friend if she needs any help leaving then she can come to us, we’ll help her out of there no problem.”

Quackity couldn’t help the smile hearing this gave him and said he’d let her know.

That’d been hours before and he knew he needed to message Reader and tell her where he stood. It wasn’t good to leave things ambiguous with her, not regarding his allegiance to L’manberg.. She’d messaged him earlier that morning, asking if he was doing alright. He hadn’t replied, wanting to talk to someone else about what he was thinking first. But he knew he couldn’t leave her on read for much longer. 

But just as he was getting ready to open his communicator.. it chimed.

He sighed, thinking it was Reader. But when he checked it his throat closed up.

‘Schlatt whispers to you: can we talk?’

Quackity gulped, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat as he read and reread the message at least 7 times. Curses ran through his head as he sat up on his couch, still staring down at the device on his wrist. He tore his eyes away, harshly scrubbing his hand down his face, just trying to calm his racing heart as he tried to focus on one thought at a time. Okay, okay, okay- he needed to relax, just- He jumped when his communicator chimed again. And when he looked back down at it anxiously he paused..

‘Schlatt whispers to you: please babe, come on

‘Schlatt whispers to you: i miss you

The duck hybrid stared down at the screen hard, biting his lip enough to draw a drop of blood as he did. Then with shaky hands he started forming a reply…

—————

@lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @reverse-iak @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake @realitycanbeajerk @lostandsouciant @thegeekisheere @sparkling-gayyy @woman-soot @xxtwizztedxx @fall3n-vo1d @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @jaciahbabes @lucian-kinnder @deadroses2021 @victory-is-here @where-thesundoesntshine @itsberrydreemurstuff

[sexhaver]

heeeeeeeeeeey i saw you mention firmament and then later the Witness and as an avid puzzle game fan, I'm always looking for recommendations!! i never know how to look for good ones and am pretty easily entertained so i'd love to know about any other faves you have!!

in no order:

Myst: the original. one of the most influential video games ever made, and the only reason it doesn't unquestionably hold that title is because DOOM came out two months after it. Myst is to the genre of puzzle games as Rogue is to roguelikes, except unlike Rogue, Myst has an HD remaster so you can actually play it in 2023 without squinting at a UI that looks like an oscilloscope. even the later games in the series still hold up on their own merits; my current obsession with puzzle games started when i picked up Myst 3 for the fucking Playstation 2 (!!!) at a thrift store in college and sank dozens of hours into it

Return of the Obra Dinn: not technically a "puzzle" game in the traditional sense, but you still have to logic your way through some difficult questions, and i'm not passing up an opportunity to recommend this one. go in completely blind. do not look up a summary on wikipedia or review on youtube

Opus Magnum: i will admit that this one requires a certain flavor of autism to really click with people, but if that sounds like you, this game will suck hours from your day faster than even Factorio

Baba Is You: dares to ask the question, "what if those flash puzzle games where you push blocks around on a grid were actually hard and also good?"

Taiji: "we have The Witness at home"

Fez: this game singlehandedly inflated Phil Fish's ego like Violet Beauregarde, and it's very easy to see why once you start playing it. it's because the video game is very good

The Looker: you should know what to expect from this one based solely on the title and price tag (free)

Manifold Garden: one of the most beautiful/mind-blowing visual experiences in gaming. take psychedelics beforehand if possible

Moncage: perspective-based puzzles with a cute underlying story tying everything together. very "cozy"

VVVVVV: not sure if this one counts as a "puzzle" game but if you haven't played it yet what the fuck are you doing

[muiitoloko]

I love your Alan Rickman fics! but sometimes i just insert myself as the masc one cuz im a boy... would you.. maybe make a Male reader pov? cuz i feel so left out with the fanfics (And please Eamon de Valera?? or Phil Allen)

Title: Styled with Love

Summary: You and Phil have fun.

Pairing: Phil Allen × Male! Reader

Warnings: none

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your request! I hope you like it, this is the first time I write about Phil. (And oh, I wrote this with a male reader in mind, but you can read it as a gender-neutral reader too.)

"Are you sure about that shirt, darling?" Phil's voice floated from the other room, his tone laced with playful skepticism.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of the shirt you had chosen for your day out with Phil. It was supposed to be a simple outing, just the two of you enjoying each other's company, but Phil seemed determined to make it difficult.

You rolled your eyes, knowing this routine all too well. "Yes, Phil, I'm sure. It looks fine."

But Phil appeared in the doorway, a mischievous grin on his face as he scrutinized your outfit. "I don't know, love. It's a bit... bland, don't you think?"

You sighed, feeling amusement bubbling up within you. "Phil, we've been through this. I like this shirt. Can we please just go?"

But Phil shook his head, still wearing that cheeky grin. "I'm sorry, darling, but I can't let you go out looking like that. It's simply not up to my standards."

You groaned inwardly, knowing there was no point in arguing with him. Phil had always been particular about fashion, even more so now that he was no longer in the hairdressing business. He seemed to take great pleasure in teasing you about your wardrobe choices, always insisting on making last-minute adjustments.

With a resigned chuckle, you headed back to your closet, searching for another outfit that might meet Phil's approval. As you changed, you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself, realizing that maybe Phil just wanted an excuse to play fashion critic.

"Alright, how about this?" you asked, stepping back into the room in a different shirt, hoping this one would pass muster.

Phil's eyes lit up with mock seriousness as he took in your appearance, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now that's more like it," he declared dramatically, his voice filled with mock satisfaction. "You look absolutely stunning, my dear."

You grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction at Phil's over-the-top approval. Despite his fussiness, you knew that his intentions were good, and you couldn't help but be amused by his antics.

"Thank you, Phil," you replied, your voice tinged with amusement. "I'm glad you approve."

And as you headed out together, hand in hand, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Phil's unique sense of humor and love. Despite his quirky ways, he was the one who made you laugh and feel special, and for that, you would always cherish him.

As you and Phil entered the diner, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, enticing you both with the promise of a delicious meal. You settled into a cozy booth by the window, the morning sunlight streaming in to warm your skin as you perused the menu.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed when Phil nudged you, his voice low and urgent as he whispered, "Hey, love, check out the woman sitting at the table across from us. She's been eyeing you since we walked in."

You glanced up, catching the gaze of the woman in question as she quickly averted her eyes, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. You couldn't help but chuckle, a surge of confidence swelling within you as you turned back to the menu.

"Can you blame her?" you replied with a playful wink, your tone light and teasing. "I mean, look at me. I'm irresistible."

Phil rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "Oh, here we go again with the ego boost."

You chuckled, reaching across the table to playfully nudge him. "Hey, you know it's true."

But before you could continue, Phil's hand shot out, swatting your arm with exaggerated force. It drew the attention of nearby diners as you blinked in surprise.

"What was that for?" you demanded, feigning offense as you rubbed your arm where Phil had made contact.

Phil's eyes danced with amusement as he leaned in closer, his voice filled with mock seriousness. "I can't let you get too cocky now, can I? Gotta keep that ego in check."

You laughed, shaking your head at Phil's antics. Despite his teasing, you knew that his love for you ran deep, and you couldn't imagine spending your life with anyone else.

With a smile, you leaned back in your booth, ready to enjoy your meal and the playful banter that always accompanied your outings with Phil. With him by your side, every day was an adventure filled with laughter and love, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

As you and Phil stepped through the door of your home, Phil couldn't resist a playful quip, "Well, if it isn't the dynamic duo returning from their diner escapade."

You chuckled, the tension from earlier dissipating as Phil's lightheartedness washed over you. Closing the door behind you, you felt the magnetic pull drawing you towards him, prompting a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

In one swift movement, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing together in a fervent kiss. Phil responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you as he joked, "I hope you didn't eat all the pie without me, darling."

The passion between you ignited, and as you kissed, the world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you locked in a playful dance of tongues and lips. Phil's playful banter continued as he teased, "You know, they say kissing burns calories. We might need to order another pie."

You laughed into the kiss, the tension melting away as Phil's humor lightened the mood. His touch was both playful and tender, a testament to the unique bond you shared. And as you lost yourselves in each other's embrace, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the undeniable connection that bound you together, heart and soul.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Phil knelt in front of you, his hands expertly removing your pants and underwear. "Alright, time for the main event," he joked, his grin infectious as he prepared to take control of the situation. And with a shared laugh, you surrendered yourself to the playful passion of your beloved Phil.

[little-herc]

Hercules is the kind of baby who... (Pt. 1)

Summary: bunch of headcanons and prompts based on how I think Hercules would behave in certain situations.

Contains: silliness, diapers, fluff

Enjoy!

• Will blow little raspberries randomly

~☆~

"Oh honey, where did you put your paci?" Meg asked as she looked around, searching inside a few boxes to find his pacifier. It's not that she minded him sucking on his thumb, but he was stubbornly decided to suck on it as he painted.

Hercules didn't answer, and instead blew a little raspberry at her, giggling. Meg looked up and couldn't help the fond chuckle that scaped her lips, reaching to ruffle his red hair.

"What was that, mh? Did you just blew a raspberry at mama?" She asked with a soft smile. Hercules seemed a little confused, and instead of answering blew another one, laughing at the noise it made. Meg chuckled fondly and caressed his cheek, patting it as she slipped his pacifier between his lips.

"There you are, no more sucking on your icky hands" she hummed, sitting down next to him.

• Will coo and demand to be held as he's being fed a bottle

~☆~

Hercules whined and whimpered as he shook his head, lips pursed to prevent Phil from pushing the bottle between his lips.

"C'mon little champ, stop fussin' and and take the bottle before it gets cold" Phil groaned patiently, not knowing what could have caused Herc to be so fussy. He had been fine just a few seconds before!

"N-Nu" the redhead demigod pouted stubbornly as he crossed his arms and looking down.

"Champ, you gotta tell Phil what's wrong if you want help" the satyr said, trying his best to be patient. He knew better than to yell at Herc while he was so little.

Finally, the demigod seemed willing to cooperate. He pointed at Phil, then at himself, and made a rocking motion with his arms.

"Uh... You want some cuddles? A nap?" Phil tried his best to guess, each word he said just made Hercules pout even more. He looked around and picked one of his stuffed toys, picking him up in his arms and doing as if he were feeding it a bottle. And this finally seemed to make Phil realize it.

"Oh... You just wanted to be held, mh?" He asked, gaze softening as he ruffled his hair, making Hercules coo as he nodded and smiled. "Okay champ, here ya go."

Of course, Phil was way too small to hold him properly, so he sat down and let Herc rest his head on his lap. "Now, that's a good baby" the satyr praised as Herc began to drink from the bottle, settling down and closing his eyes as Phil ran a hand though his hair, the other one holding the bottle.

• Always asks to sleep with someone (Meg, Phil, or even Pegasus)

~☆~

Hercules found Meg sitting on the porch, her purple dress flowing around her like a pool of shadows. She looked up, her eyes softening as they met his.

"Hey, wonderbly," she greeted, her voice gentle yet teasing. "Long day?"

He nodded, sitting beside her. "Yeah, you could say that. Meg, can I... can I ask you something?"

She turned to him, sensing the seriousness in his tone. "Anything."

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" He blurted out, immediately feeling the rush of warmth to his cheeks. "I mean, not in that way. Just... I want to be close to you. It makes me feel safe."

Meg's eyes widened for a moment, then softened with understanding. "Of course, wonderboy. You never have to ask."

Later that night, after dinner and some quiet conversation, they retired to their bedroom. Hercules felt a strange sense of relief as he climbed into bed beside Meg. She wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close, and he nestled his head against her shoulder.

***

The next few days passed in a blur of training and heroics, but each night, Hercules found himself asking Meg if he could sleep with her. She never said no, always welcoming him with open arms and a reassuring smile. But one evening, as the sunset painted the sky, he found himself wandering towards Phil's small, cozy cottage.

Phil was busy polishing his trophies, his goat ears twitching as Hercules approached. "Hey, kid! What brings you here?"

Hercules shuffled his feet, feeling a bit awkward. "Phil, do you think... could I stay here tonight? Meg is away for the night and I didn't wanna be alone..."

Phil raised an eyebrow, but seeing the earnest look in Hercules' eyes, he nodded. "Sure thing, kid. Mi casa es tu casa, as they say."

That night, Hercules curled up on the small bed in Phil's guest room. It was a bit cramped for his large frame, but the familiarity of Phil's presence was comforting. Phil sat nearby, speaking to himself, Hercules felt his eyelids grow heavy.

"You did good today, kiddo," Phil said softly, his voice laced with pride. "Get some rest."

Hercules smiled sleepily, feeling like a child again under Phil's watchful eye. "Thanks, Phil."

***

A few weeks later, after a particularly grueling battle, Hercules found himself standing at the entrance of the stables. Pegasus, sensing his distress, neighed softly.

"Hey, buddy," Hercules greeted, stroking Pegasus's mane. "Mind if I bunk with you tonight?"

Pegasus nuzzled him in response, and Hercules took that as a yes. He spread out a blanket in the straw-filled stall and lay down, feeling the gentle warmth of Pegasus beside him. The rhythmic rise and fall of Pegasus's breath lulled him into a state of calm, and as he drifted off, he felt the weight of his responsibilities lift, if only for a little while.

• If he's wearing a diaper, he'll not be able to tell when he needs to be changed so Meg and Phil have to keep an eye on him regularly unless he's taking a nap

~☆~

This new chapter of his life, the one that came with his regression, included a change that required a bit more attention: wearing diapers.

It had taken a while for him to accept this need, but Meg and Phil had been incredibly supportive. They understood that, despite his strength and heroism, even Hercules needed moments where he could let go and feel protected.

One sunny afternoon, Meg and Phil were discussing the day's plans in the kitchen while Hercules played with Pegasus in the garden. Meg glanced out the window, smiling as she watched Hercules and Pegasus race each other.

"He looks so happy," Meg remarked, a hint of warmth in her voice.

Phil nodded, but his brow furrowed slightly. "We need to keep an eye on him, though. Remember, he can't tell when he needs to be changed."

Meg sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know. We'll just have to check on him regularly."

As the afternoon sun climbed higher, Meg brought a pitcher of lemonade out to the garden. She approached Hercules, who was laughing as Pegasus playfully nudged him with his nose.

"Hey, wonderboy," Meg called out, catching his attention. "How about a break for some lemonade?"

Hercules smiled brightly and bounded over, nearly jumping and bouncing happily. Meg handed him a glass and subtly checked his diaper. He was still dry, but she knew they'd need to stay vigilant.

Phil joined them, bringing out a plate of fresh fruit. "Alright, champ," he said, patting Hercules on the back. "How's it going?"

"Great, Phil!" Hercules replied, taking a big gulp of lemonade. "Pegasus is faster than ever!"

They spent the next few hours enjoying the day, and every now and then, Meg or Phil would discreetly check Hercules. It wasn't an easy task, but they had grown accustomed to this new routine.

As the sun began to set, Hercules felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. He yawned and stretched, feeling the exhaustion from the day's activities.

Meg noticed and smiled gently. "Ready for a nap, wonderboy?"

He nodded, his eyes half-closed. Meg took his hand and led him inside, with Phil and Pegasus following close behind. They made their way to Hercules' room.

Once inside, Meg checked his diaper again. "Looks like you need a change before your nap," she said softly, not wanting to embarrass him.

Hercules nodded sleepily, trusting Meg completely. She and Phil worked together quickly and efficiently, making sure he was clean and comfortable and changing him as fast as possible to avoid making him cry. Hercules sighed with relief as they tucked him into bed, the soft blankets enveloping him.

Phil sat at the edge of the bed, his gruff exterior hiding the tenderness he felt for his protégé. "Get some rest, kid. We'll be here when you wake up."

Hercules smiled, his eyes already closing. "Thanks, Phil. Thanks, Meg."

As he drifted off to sleep, he felt an overwhelming sense of peace and safety. In these moments, he didn't have to be the strong, invincible hero. He could just be Herc, surrounded by those who understood him best.

[pompadorbz]

good morning pompadorbz nation as it turns out i am still sick and twisted

No, the Ender Prince AU has NOT left my brain, don't you think for a second that it hasn't, it is to the point that I am drawing this guy for one of my final assignments, ive already gotten an art trade of him its honetly a miracle i haven't put him on artfight yet. AND. And. I spent my entire evening on one singular short fic. Here is that fic. (note that. i very much made this for myself but i think ive pretty much talked about all the plot points so far in my that appear here in my older posts about this au, which you can find under the #ender prince au tag. if there's something that appears here that I've omitted from the posts then like. idk that's an issue not an issme lol. I'll probably post about whatever i didn't in like 2-3 business days knowing the state of my brainwaves rn. also shoutout to @fries-is-silly for beta reading this for me whilst i slept comfy and cozy in my bed)

The claws of Phil’s exoskeleton lightly click against the cold purpur floors as he briskly makes his way across the long hallways of the end palace. The Ender King had requested the night prior that he visit the throne upon awakening, and Phil knew he was an impatient man. Phil knew better than to keep him waiting this long by now… He never failed to disappoint in that regard, it seemed. Phil truly could not move any quicker if he tried. The lavender tiles were so large that he would barely miss the edge of each square with every step, and he swore up and down to himself that walking back and forth across a single hallway would take him a complete twenty minutes, but this was assuming time was valuable enough in the end to fact-check that estimate to begin with. Perhaps he had only gotten used to it at this point, but Phil always felt as if the hallways had shrunk since his first days in the palace– not that the King had really allowed him to roam very far for that first while, anyway. He remembered the dread he felt as he was first carried off into the throne room; How staring up the unfathomably tall walls and to the impossibly high ceiling made him feel horribly nauseous. He thought that no closed space should ever be this colossal. It gave him a rare fear– a terror of heights. For once. But that was back then. This is Now. And right now, Phil was on solid ground, and he was nearly at the throne room. He thought that maybe- as he picks up the pace, if he could get away with a quick sprint, he would get there a little bit quicker. However, A familiar voice called from around the next corner, dripping with acid. It makes Phil freeze dead in his tracks. “You took your precious time getting here as is, little fly. It would be a waste of energy for you to scratch up my floor with your little claws.”Phil’s pace slows significantly at the comment as he turns into the throne’s open doorway, clasping his hands together in shame as he stares up towards the throne where the Ender king sat, shrouded in his usual cloak as his hair fell like waterfalls off the edges and arms of the seat. The golden mask that rested upon his face was one that Phil didn’t recall ever seeing him wear; a spider, with its giant mandibles protruding outward from the lower half, and eight eyes, painstakingly painted a bright red. Phil thought it looked rather striking.

“I… I’m sorry for rushing, my lord. I knew when I woke up that I would be cutting it close… It won’t happen again.” The ender king hums low and sarcastically. “You say it won’t happen again… And yet, every time, you always seem to break that promise without fail now, don’t you? Hm?”There was a faux-sweetness in the monarch’s voice that made Phil’s throat tighten, and before he could work up the courage to provide another pitiful excuse, the Ender King was already continuing. “Though, I suppose that it is to be expected by now, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically. “But no need to fret it much, little prince. There are far, far more pressing matters we must discuss today.”Ah.Phil knew well what that probably meant. “Is… Is it nearly time..? And so soon?” He questioned, feeling a pit form in his stomach from the nerves alone. “Ohh, we are not quite ready just yet, foolish prince! There are still a mere few preparations to be made.” The king explains matter of factly. “I will tell you exactly when it is time.”So in other words, Phil had to prepare to receive this information at the very last minute. Cool. “For now, however… I can prepare you for your little adventure just a cinch more.”He slowly holds his hands out in front of him. “Come forward.”

Phil nods in silence and flutters his elytra, slowly lifting off of the ground and flying up into the king’s hands as he’d done dozens of times before. It was a practiced movement by now. The Ender king wordlessly carries Phil over to the arm of his throne, letting him carefully walk off and take a seat on the end stone as he’d done countless times before. Sometimes, if he was lucky, the king would allow him to wrap whatever draped from his cloak around him as he sat by his side. …That did not occur often, however. And most certainly not today after having arrived so late.

Phil instead watches the Ender King as he reaches a bony hand into his cloak and pulls out a tiny (by his standards, anyway), white-painted chest. He carries it between his fingers, placing it directly in front of Phil with just enough force to threaten to crush him; if he ever fell out of line, that is.

“A gift! Just for you, little orchid.~”Phil stares at the box for just a moment and reaches toward it… Only to look back at the Ender king for a moment in his hesitation.

The last time he had been given a gift, it was… Well, it was his very own room in the palace, complete with a rather comfortable bed, some soft wool carpet… Even a few trinkets that the king didn’t wish to keep for himself in the throne room. It wasn’t terribly big, nor was it filled with riches… But it made the castle feel a little more like a home.

It wasn’t a perfect home, but of course… Phil hadn’t a reason to complain that’d be worth the Ender King’s time.

“Oh, don’t just gawk at me like that, Corvus. Don’t you wish to know what’s inside? Are you not curious?” Says the king. “You could at the very least pretend to be grateful.”“I am grateful, my king! I really, truly am! It… just took me by surprise, is all-”

“Yes, well I believe that is in fact the point of a surprise, isn’t it?” The Ender King impatiently cuts him off, tapping his finger nails on the opposing arm of the throne.

Phil stares into the vacant red eyes of the spider mask for a brief moment, but only sighs, accepting the swift dismantling of yet another poor excuse.

“Yeah, I guess it is, huh…” He concedes, turning back to the chest and gently placing his hands onto the lid.

He lifts it open and peers inside at what looked like… A wool blanket..? No… No, rather it was something wrapped inside a wool blanket. It glistens in gold through the holes in between each fuzzy woven thread as Phil carefully takes it out of the box and cradles it in his lap.

More of the object’s golden surface is revealed with each layer of wool that Phil unfolds, and after there is nothing left to cover it, there sits in front of him:

“A mask..? Like.. Like one of yours?” Phil tentatively asks.

The Ender King laughs with a disposition so sunny it was almost unnerving.

“That it is, clever prince! I made it especially for you to take along on your journey.~”Phil looks back down at the mask in slight awe, inspecting it further. It looked almost like a mantis’ face of some kind, with two large eyes protruding outward from the top, sitting just above where the real eyeholes sat… But more curiously, something was nestled in between the eyes…

“What’s this ender pearl for..?” Phil asks.

“Ah, now that, curious little prince, is because this mask serves a very important purpose.”

The king’s tone was the most fluttery and excitable it had ever been, letting the answer to Phil’s question dangle like a carrot on a string for a moment.

“This will be your ticket in and out of the universe I’ve picked for your first little expedition,” He begins. “and every universe beyond that for the rest of our forever time.” Oh.

This was more than just a mask… It was a priceless artifact; one more valuable than Phil could ever imagine being.

He couldn’t even think of something to say about it… This whole mission had a lot of responsibility to it already, but… This was different.

It was tangible.

It made any and all words elude him.

“Now, What do we say, Corvus…?”Though… He supposed he could start with that one, yeah.

“Thank you…” He nearly whispers, trailing a hand against the mask’s surface before he wraps it up in the blanket once more and places it carefully back into the white box.

The Ender King places a hand to his chin.

“Oh, Corvus… I didn’t quite catch that– What, with your incessant mumbling. Oh do repeat yourself, would you?~” Phil nervously clears his throat as he looks back up to the spider mask, looking into the eyeholes as if he could see the deity’s face underneath.

“Thank you so very much… My king.”

“Good boy.”The Ender King holds a hand out for Phil to once again climb upon, and Phil obliges; this time allowing himself to be brought down to ground level. The last thing he wanted was to drop his present.

“Run along now, little prince! There will be plenty of work to be done in due time, so do not disappoint me.”Phil nods and begins making his way toward the door… But he’s stopped by the monarch one final time just as he goes to turn through the exit.

“Oh… And one final thing before you leave, yes? It is incredibly important… So listen closely.” The Ender King begins.

Phil only barely turns around before the feeling of dread hits him like a brick. There was always a catch to these… Nicer interactions.

“Be careful with that mask. Don’t you lose it, and don’t you dare break it. Because if you do…”

Phil swallows the lump in his throat. He knew the threat he was about to hear. As empty as it seemed after constant reiteration… It never failed to strike fear into his heart.

“I have absolutely no qualms with plucking those little wings off of your ungrateful back.”

The silence hangs heavy between the two… And what was likely only a few seconds felt like minutes to Phil.

“Do I make myself clear, Icarus?”Phil Nodded.

“Crystal.”

[skyler10fic]

Lightning Strikes Twice Ch. 5

Summary: Skye finally meets this Carol girl she's heard about her whole life, and they reveal the truth about the past to each other.

Read on Ao3

------------------

“Skyyyye!” Fitz called out to the server room where Skye had established a hidden, cozy, secret gaming spot. The rest of the enhanced division was on assignments across Europe, and she had been quarterbacking from the comms desk, but now, due to time zones, they were asleep in their safe house and she still had a few hours of her afternoon left. She was grateful for her new job, but she just needed a break sometimes to get away from it all, and no one wandered in here by accident to see her beanbag chair and Nintendo.

“SKYE!” Fitz called again.

“What?” Skye called back. He located her in the rows of machines. 

“Your parents are searching for you, and they have a girl who looks like a cross between superhero Barbie and a drowned rat.” 

“Wait, what?” Skye scrambled up in curiosity and licked the Cheeto dust from her fingers. She ran out of the server room so fast that she nearly collided with the very people looking for her. 

“There you are,” her mother scolded. “You didn’t answer your phone!”

“Oh, um, hi. Hi.” Skye didn’t notice anyone else but the girl in front of her. Damp hair and a bodysuit in this neighborhood would normally have indicated she’d been surfing, but that seemed unlikely in this context and with the big star logo across the front. Yeah, Fitz was right. Superhero armor. 

“Hello.” The girl smiled tentatively, and Skye nearly melted on the spot. 

Phil looked around at the curious agents starting to wander through the hallway. “Sweetheart, this is someone very special we want you to meet. She’s just arrived here. On Earth. Let’s find a place we can all talk.” 

“A conference room?” Melinda suggested and nodded to an open door. 

Skye took in the girl’s exhaustion and odd outfit and pitiful appearance. “I have a better idea. I’m Skye, by the way.” She stuck out her hand for a handshake, and the girl hesitated, took off her wet glove, and slowly reciprocated. The touch of their palms sent a wave of warmth through them both and they let the handshake linger a half-second longer than normal, at least by Earth standards.

“I’m Carol. Carol Danvers.” She tilted her head, carefully observing Skye’s reaction, and the name sunk in. 

Skye’s jaw dropped. She looked to her parents and they nodded. “But … you’re?” 

Phil cleared his throat. “Like I said, we need to talk.”

Skye took in Carol’s full form, not caring if it was obvious she was checking her out. “Yeah, we could go back to my place. Wait! Not like—! That’s not—!” Skye blushed bright pink as she scrambled to recover and her parents tried to hide their laughter. “I mean all of us! I can lend you some clothes and you can get cleaned up and maybe we can have dinner. With all of us!” 

“Alright!” Phil clapped his hands once and pointed to the elevator. “This way.”

“Smooth,” Melinda mumbled to her daughter as they left the doorway of the server room where Fitz was about to burst out laughing, having overheard all of this from where he was working around the corner. 

“Thanks,” Skye groaned sarcastically. 

The elevator was full, so they rode in silence to Skye’s floor, and then Skye showed them the way to her door and plugged in a digital key to unlock it.  

“I know it’s weird that I live and work in the same building,” Skye explained as she held the door open for them to enter. “Shield has residential floors, which works out for me because it’s way cheaper than anywhere else and works out for them because I’m always around if something goes wrong.” 

Carol frowned. “I grew up mostly on a space base, so living where you work is sort of our entire culture.” 

Skye inhaled. “Right. So, you grew up with the Kree. In space. Did you know? That you were from here, I mean. Could you remember it?” 

Phil and Melinda gestured to Skye’s living room with a sofa, a papasan chair, and a gamer chair that would have been more at home on a sci-fi movie set. 

Carol followed their lead as the other three took their seats. She chose the spot on the sofa next to Skye’s papasan chair and turned toward her, which Skye took to be a positive sign.  

“No, I was only three when I was taken. I knew I wasn’t a normal Kree, but that’s it. I didn’t really know the story in full until a few minutes ago, but I found out only bits and pieces this morning. An inhuman doctor gave me a way to escape. I can never repay his kindness.”

Skye’s heart thundered in her chest. “You know inhumans? They were there with you?”

Carol’s lip turned up in a bitter half-smile. “Well, most of them weren’t so inclusive. I’m not inhuman, and I’m not Kree, so I don’t know what I am. I don’t fit anywhere.” 

Skye’s eyes welled up despite herself. “Yeah. Yeah, I know something about that.” She swallowed and stood, walking to the open kitchen area as she asked, “How about some coffee? I feel like we need some coffee and some Oreos. Or maybe something stronger…” 

Her dad came up behind her as she pulled snacks from the pantry cupboard. “Hey, I’ll deal with this. You go sit down.” 

“Yeah?” Skye swiped quickly at her wet eyes with her sleeve. 

“Yeah.” He took a box of crackers from her hand, and she whispered a thank you, then returned to Carol’s side. 

Carol stared down at her interlocked fingers and then around Skye’s apartment, gaze landing on a framed photo of their family. 

“I was hoping to find my family,” she admitted. “Agent May and Agent Coulson tell me that my parents are gone. But I have a brother. And he will be back here some day.” 

Skye nodded. “I’ve only met him in passing, but he seems like a nice guy. You kind of look like him, a bit.” 

Carol’s expression filled with hope so bright it was hard for Skye to ask what she was dying to know. 

Skye started with an easier question. “Did my parents tell you that I’m adopted? I’m not really from Earth, originally.” 

Carol looked to Melinda and to Phil, who was coming back with a full eclectic charcuterie platter of food from Skye’s kitchen. 

Melinda explained, “She was the girl we found. We were assigned to find you, Carol, but instead we found her.” 

Phil added, “There was no record of Skye’s family or anyone looking for her, so we adopted her. We think she might have been on the Kree ship that took you. But she used whatever took you up to come down here.” 

Skye shrugged. “An elevator goes both ways. I guess a spaceship beam or teleport or whatever would too. I don’t remember anything, but sometimes I see a Kree symbol at work that looks familiar or have nightmares about these alien men… Wait, are they all really big and blue?” 

It was Carol’s turn to be surprised into sputtering. “Uh, some of them. You? How? You’re Kree?” 

Skye flinched. “No. I’m human. Mostly. I, uh, recently got some special abilities that line up with these crazy ancient legends, and it’s weird, but they also called themselves inhumans. So, it makes sense that if the inhumans are still a thing on your space base…”

“You’re inhuman. You have powers too?” Carol took in Skye’s rather unintimidating form. 

“Too?” Skye leaned in. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” 

Carol smiled. “You wanna see my powers? Okay. Does that glass open to the, uh, chair area outside?” 

“The balcony? Yeah. Are they too dangerous inside?” Skye got up and slid open the glass door and screen door.  

Carol followed her out to the balcony, but the parents hung back, watching them. “I could do it inside, but it’s just more impressive out here.” 

Carol didn’t wait for more questions as she flew up and over the balcony railing. Her hair dried into frizzy waves as she flew. She waved and did a big loop. 

“Show off!” Skye called. Carol settled back down next to her on the balcony. 

“Your turn.” Carol’s cocky smile shot straight through Skye. Ohhh she was in trouble with this one. 

“Okay that’s hard to beat, at least without destroying anything. But let me see.” Skye focused on a large circular fountain in the park across the street and the water spurted up higher and higher and then down again and back up. She took the opportunity to move some empty metal benches away from the trash bins and closer to the fountain area. “Bit of community improvement. I like to help out.” 

“So you can move things around from far away? That’s cool.” Carol asked, not unkindly but obviously not in awe either. 

Skye laughed. “I can do a lot more than that. I sense the waves of objects or nature or anything and I can manipulate them. I’m working on being able to do tiny intricate stuff, but I could also take down buildings. Maybe more when I build my strength up. It’s like telekinesis, sort of, but more physics and less thought power.” 

Her mother commented from inside, “A little more thought power wouldn’t hurt.” 

Skye rolled her eyes. “Anyway! So you’ve probably seen a ton of cool powers if you know the inhumans. And I’m guessing you got yours from the Kree somehow? Have they come up with new ways to use people for their wars since the ancient inhumans were here?”

Skye regretted it as soon as the bitter words left her mouth, but Carol just sighed and leaned her forearms on the metal railing of the balcony. “It was so obvious to everyone but me. I am—I was—a captain in Starforce, an elite team of ‘noble warrior heroes,’ we called ourselves. So vain. I see it now. I really thought we were doing good, you know? But you’re right. The inhumans are used too. I don’t get to see their powers much, in part because we don’t mix, and in part because some of them are used for entertainment.”

Skye leaned on the balcony too and stared hard at Carol. “They’re what? Paraded around?” 

“Forced to fight in the arena. Hurting each other with their powers for the honor of their masters. I should have tried to save someone, anyone, and bring them with me. But I just ran.” Carol couldn’t meet Skye’s stare. She hung her head, guilty that she’d gotten out and they hadn’t. 

“Did you ever hear of an inhuman family who lost a daughter our age?” 

Carol closed her eyes. 

“You did.” Skye surmised. “Did you know them?” 

Carol shook her head and turned to face Skye.

“Skye, if you are who I think you are, your parents were killed after you escaped. Their story is told as a warning. They were already on thin ice because your dad was a human doctor they had recruited to experiment on humans, inhumans, and more across the empire. But he and your inhuman mother fell in love and had you. And when you came here, the Kree guards assumed your parents had sent you away. Maybe they did. I don’t know. But the Kree saw it as a theft of their property. Your father went mad in prison, and your mother killed Kree—first to escape their medical experiments, but then to fuel her power so she was strong enough to free him. But they failed. So they were executed, and things for inhumans got a lot worse after that. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s my fault?” Skye’s breath came in gasps as the emotions crashed over her. One time, in her early teens, she’d nearly drowned in the Pacific Ocean with the churning tide pulling her under to the dark. It felt like that. 

“No, no, you didn’t know.” Carol pulled her in for a hug, something Carol herself hadn’t experienced since she was a teen with a kind housemother in her training unit. Skye welcomed the hug, and Carol apologized over and over, a near stranger and yet so much more, until Melinda and Phil came to check on them. 

Skye backed away and blushed as she realized she’d had a breakdown on this hot girl’s shoulder, whom she barely knew. “Sorry, sorry, c’mon. I promised you a shower and clothes and food.” 

Skye wiped furiously at her eyes and disappeared into the apartment, leaving Carol no choice but to follow.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 2

More pounding on the door. You blink a few times--fuck, had you been asleep this whole time? 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You shout groggily, pulling yourself off of the cozy, white duvet. You wipe under your eyes and smooth over the crown of your head as you approach the source of noise. “Oh,” you sigh when you find Maggie on the other side. “It’s just you.”

“What a cheerful greeting,” she makes a face but steps inside. She shrugs off her coat and pulls off her hat, from the look of her and the fading daylight outside your window, a gloomy London day was about to become a rainy London night. “We got out late, I haven’t even been home yet because…”

You glance at her over your shoulder when you move towards the kitchen, burying the lead. Typical Maggie. You’d already spotted a tea kettle on the stove, a cup would definitely help you wake up.

“Because?” You prompt, moving to fill the kettle. 

“Because…we should go out tonight.”

You glance out the window quickly. Did Maggie forget that your day technically started…yesterday, in New York?

“...Out tonight?”

“Who are these from?” She sees the flowers on the kitchen counter but you’d already put the card atop your dresser. 

“Oh--Jason, actually.” You say it when your back is to her, thank god. You didn’t think you could hide the heat you felt on your cheeks or the curious look in your eye.

Jet lag, you decide. Deliriously tired and completely out of sorts. Your brain had interpreted his smiles as flirtatious when really, he was being polite and professional and you were just jet lagged. 

“What a sweetie!” she coos when you turn around, hands on the island. “You’re going to love him.”

“Yeah, he seems nice.”

“So sweet--he’ll be out tonight, too.”

“Right,” you remember her evening proposition. “I don’t know, Mag, I’m exhausted and I don’t think my brain is fully with it anymore.”

“Everyone from the show is coming,” she pouts. “Not everyone, but like, everyone I like.”

You turn the burner off when the kettle starts to whistle, taking the bait: “Who’s everyone you like?” 

“Poppy and some of the girls from hair and makeup, a bunch of the guys from the cast--the team, they’re a blast. Jason, Brett, Juno, Greg and Briony, I think, too.”

You find cups in the cupboard, pull two out when she offers her best puppy eyes. “Will I look like an asshole to everyone if I say no?”

She lets her head flop from side to side in uncertainty. “No--I mean, you just got here today so I think people understand that you’re jet lagged. But,” she holds up a finger. “Our cast and crew is notorious for rowdy Friday nights, and it is when most of the bonding happens.”

You watch her and let out another deflated sigh, she knows you’re a sucker for team bonding and making a good impression, and she’d never be too proud to use it against you.

Which is exactly how you wound up in the back room of a pub in Notting Hill. You’d already met Briony--a 23-year-old London native who landed the job of a lifetime when she applied to be an Assistant II, the spot right beneath yours. 

Maggie had taken a liking to a Briony, which wasn’t shocking when you watched the two of them down a beer and bicker about the ranking of a local football club. Maggie loved seeing herself in other people, and anyone who looked up to her? Game over.

Briony was young and impressionable but smart and determined, a bit wide eyed at the entertainment lifestyle, still, but that always took a few years to wear off. 

You’d met Hannah right when you walked in, she greeted you with excitement and you pretended she wasn’t intimidatingly beautiful and tall. She’s fucking hilarious, Briony smiled. 

Now you take reprieve in a corner and listen to Phil and Maggie catch up. In a way, being here is work. Existing in the circle, getting to know your surroundings. Especially at this stage in the game.

At some point right before 9pm, Jason strolls in with someone you don’t recognize, a hoodie and sneakers and you wonder if you should have told Maggie about the flowers and the card.

He makes his way into your tiny group and lets an arm slump around her shoulders when he smiles down at you. “You didn’t give a color, so I hope I did okay—you know, seeing as I was left to my own devices.”

Maggie and Phil are too wrapped up in their conversation, so you laugh and decide you’ll match his demeanor. Jet lag plus alcohol? The professional side of your brain recognizes the risk, but your mouth ticks into a smirk involuntarily.

“Next time I’ll arrive early and buy my own,” you tease him, a playful roll of your eyes to let him know how apologetic you were for his trouble.

His eyes scan your face a little now, the pub is loud and you wonder how many hours a person can be awake before they’re deemed clinically insane. 

“Maggie said you worked for a Real Housewife?”

You nod, take a sip of the cocktail that was shoved your way when you showed up. “Kyle Richards—she’s very sweet and she was the best boss I’ve ever had, so—"

“Big shoes to fill,” he comments, a quick pause before he corrects: “high heels?”

“Either way,” you smile.

“I guess, though…” he reaches up and lets a finger comb over his mustache. Did he keep it year round? What did it feel like when—

“I guess since it’s a temporary position, your contract does outline that I am not actually your boss. Your work for your agency, not me.” He lets his eyes meet yours when you smile up at him, a tiny shrug of his left shoulder. 

“Kyle will be very happy she gets to keep her first place ranking, then.” 

“Poppy!” Maggie’s excited shriek makes both you and Jason turn to see her. She dances in place, opening her arms when a petite brunette slams into her.

A big hug--Jason gets pulled aside by Brendan--and you’re introduced to the woman who makes us all look fit as fuck, as Juno puts it when she excitedly trails behind her. 

Poppy's chic—leather flare pants and a blouse that accentuates her waist. Sure, you hadn’t been here long, but there were a few obvious things so far:

Maggie is close with Poppy and Briony. In fact, it would appear that they are some of her favorite people on set. 

Maggie is also friends with Juno and Hannah--two of the stars on the show and the exact type of strong women Maggie is a magnet to. You trusted, for now, that one day you’d be less intimidated by them.

There was an overall sense of unity, specifically between the women (which was dope), and among the entire cast and crew.

All good things, you decide. So you have another gin and juice and then trail behind them when someone suggests a relocation, somewhere more private and less likely to result in hey, aren’t you those people on that show?

So, on your first night in London, you end up sitting on the floor of Jason’s living room when Poppy and Juno ask you a million questions. 

“America--alright, whereabout?” Juno asks with an eager smile and a red solo cup in hand. She's cross legged on the carpet, you swallow another gulp of your drink and realize that the alcohol is likely solely responsible for your consciousness at this point.

Total waking time: going on 22 hours.

“New York,” you nod. “Born and raised, but I’ve been living in LA for the last few years.”

Poppy’s a bit wide eyed, probably from the vodka. “New York, like New York City, New York?”

“Maggie and I grew up in a small town called Peekskill--right north of the city,” you say this and see Maggie glance over at the sound of her name. “Maggie is Peekskill’s biggest fan.”

She rolls her eyes theatrically at this, groans in protest when you giggle at the drama. 

“Oh come on,” you laugh. “If it wasn’t for that town we wouldn’t be FRIENDS!”

“And if you weren’t friends, I wouldn’t have an assistant right now,” Jason says with a smile when he comes in from the kitchen—a glass of wine in hand that he soon offers to Hannah.

“Right, Maggie,” Hannah looks over and points a finger at your friend. “Don’t ruin this for all of us, we need her! Jason won’t be sane without her.”

“That’s gonna go straight to her head,” Maggie looks over at you, an unimpressed glare when you show a toothy grin. 

“Nobody told me I was saving the day,” you flutter your eyelashes in jest and Hannah cracks up.

“Big head already,” Maggie comments. 

“I don’t think I knew you were from New York, Maggie,” Jason looks over at her now, a cup in his own hand when he settles beside Hannah on the giant, modern sofa. 

His house is cool. Modern like the architecture in LA, but decorated with Brooklyn flair cool. You’d probably never admit it to anyone in the room, but you googled the shit out of him before your flight out here. 

When Maggie called and asked if you were even interested in a gig like this--someone less A-list than you previous clientele--you did your best to avoid the internet. If there was anything you’d learned after 8 years in the industry, it was that tabloids and headlines paid no mind to the truth. 

And, besides, you knew yourself well enough that googling Jason for weeks on end before moving across the ocean for a temporary job would only make your anxiety skyrocket. 

So you waited until your ass was firmly planted in the airport and through security. A glass of red wine from the business lounge and a sweatshirt made your internet reading less creepy and more cozy. 

“Oh, unfortunately,” Maggie sighs. “I’m more of an LA girl at heart.”

“That is true,” you back her up. “Which, personally, I won’t ever understand.”

“Me neither,” Jason agrees, his eyes on you when he spoke. “The people are weird, no privacy.”

“Something tells me Maggie loves the flashing lights,” Brett teases, a smile in her direction. Was there…something between them? Maggie rolls her eyes at Brett but lets Briony jump in. 

“Y/N, have you ever been to London before?”

“I have,” you nod with a smile, actually quite touched that the whole group seems to be interested enough to listen. “I’ve been for work a few times, but--never longer than a week or two. I’ve never spent a lot of time exploring.”

“Skip the London Eye,” Brett waves it off. “Gherkin’s much better.”

Another round of drinks and more teasing from Maggie until almost 2am--you smile at the way everyone says goodbye: hugs and cheek kisses and promises of see you Monday!

When you pull on your coat by the front door, Jason has a hand on the knob. “We should probably hang out tomorrow.”

“Yes,” you nod quickly, reaching for your phone to edit a calendar or set an alarm or something. “I can come here, bring coffee, what time?”

He laughs, a smile at your offer while Maggie and Juno giggle about something unintelligible in the doorway. “Yeah--sure, 10am?”

“You’ve got it,” another nod. Now Maggie reaches her hand for yours and looks up at Jason. 

“You’re welcome by the way. You’re going to love her.”

You catch the corner of his mouth pull up into a smirk, heat on your cheeks at Maggie’s choice of words. 

But Jason nods. “I believe you.”

**

The sun glitters through your shutters when you check your phone the next morning. 7:24am. You know within a few seconds that you’re awake for good: the time change and the still-packed suitcase on your floor demands it. 

So you walk to a corner cafe for your first cup, sit cross-legged on your hardwood floor and pull out sweaters and dresses and jeans. You swiped some mascara on and walked the two and a half blocks to Jason’s right before 9:45--your knuckles rapped on the door and you didn’t think, for a second, that being early might be a bad thing. 

Birds chirp in the morning sunlight, brisk and chilly at the start of spring. Steam billows up from the two hot coffees in hand--Briony texted you his order last night when she stumbled home.

“Hey, hi--I…overslept,” he blinks down at you a few times once the door swings open. His hair’s messy, a sweatshirt he must have tugged over at the sound of the doorbell. In a….hot way. 

“I can come back,” you blink up at him, a small smile in awkwardness when he shakes his head and steps aside. 

“No, no, no--it’s my fault, come in.”

You step into the foyer and clock the photos on the wall that you missed last night: family members, friends, moments he wanted a daily reminder of. He takes the coffees from you with an appreciate smile, walks over to the living room and sets them down on the circular table atop the plush rug. 

It’s different in the morning light, a tall plant in the corner and art on the walls, Hannah’s wine glass still sits on the end table where she left it. 

“Sorry that the only London sight you’ve seen so far is my living room,” he laughs a little, the first sip and a nod of recognition when he realizes you already know his order. 

“All good,” you shake your head and sit in the armchair across from him. “I’m happy to be here, excited for a change of scenery. S’only the first 48-hours, anyway.”

“The U.S. just get old, or somethin'?” He teases, another slow sip and a smile in your direction, this one, you can tell, has more curiosity behind it.

It's early. Early in the day, early in your relationship with Jason for you to be divulging the gritty details of how your life cracked open a mere six months ago.

So you give him the 30,000 foot view truth: “That and my whole life, apparently. Seeing as I agreed to this job with, like, two weeks notice.”

He nods now, eyes wide at your joke but still rolling with it. “Yeah,” he sighs when he relaxes on the sofa, “I can relate.”

A moment of awkward silence. He goes for another sip in the exact moments you realize it’s probably up to you to make the conversation start flowing--seeing as Jason’s eyes are still half closed when he takes his second sip. 

“So what made Jessie a great EA?” You sit back and watch as he lets your question sink in. His pointer finger traces along his mustache, like he’s a little caught off guard but still happy to answer. 

“She always laughs at my jokes,” he smiles, a quick glance up in your direction to see how it lands. 

“Okay, so…flattery,” you nod, throwing in a playful smirk. You curse yourself, silently, for the warmth beneath your ribcage at the sight of a dimple on his left cheek. 

“You can call it that if you must,” he rolls his eyes but then laughs and exhales, slowly. “She’s great, organized…which I am not always, by the way.”

You appreciate his honesty, watching when he glances out the window but keeps talking about your predecessor. “She’s very punctual, has a wicked memory--like, really good,” he nods.

You reach for your coffee and narrow your eyes. “That or calendar access, right?”

He laughs at your joke, “right. You had that meeting with her, yeah?”

The meeting that you agreed to even though it was at 6am your time because they were all over here in London. The meeting that you took alongside your morning cup of coffee and the meeting that had you, now, seated in Jason’s living room on the other side of the world. 

“Yes,” you nod, “and I’ve got your work and personal calendar, she gave me a whole binder to study.”

You pointed over to the tote you’d had on your shoulder upon arrival, remembered thumbing through pages before you tried to close your eyes on your flight. 

“If anyone handed me a binder and said, ‘go handle this man,’ I would have run for the hills.”

More melting of whatever anxiety sits in your chest. Levity in the room despite the fact that you still have a good impression to make and a lot to catch up on. You’ve been here only two days, but something tells you his cast and crew moved like a well-oiled machine. Or a friend group. A well-oiled friend group. 

“Yeah, well, Maggie loves coming to work. Which means you must be doing something right.”

He smiles in a way that shows your words mean something to him, like that’s a real compliment and not just your attempt at sucking up to the boss. Who you, under no circumstances, should think is attractive. 

“Can I show you around?” His eyebrows lift when he stands from the sofa, before gesturing over his shoulder to look into the backyard. 

Big glass panels--doors, you assume--that opened onto lush green grass despite the March cloud cover. First he leads you into the kitchen, slick counters and wood grain cabinetry before he shows you the fridge.

“This thing talks--but only sometimes, when it wants,” he presses the fridge. Drawings pinned up with magnets, a rainbow and a soccer ball, three stick figures with a dog. 

“I have two kids,” he says what you already know--it was in the binder. “Owen and Stella,” he smiles. “A lot of back and forth, between me and their mom--but that’s been…doable.”

Recent, you remember Maggie mentioning their split a few Christmases ago and the resulting headlines. Now, standing in his kitchen, you feel bad for the quiet house that was starting to feel more lonely than chic. 

“Onward?”

Another nod before you follow him down the hall to the main suite. A nice space—meant for two but he still left a mark on the otherwise empty room. Books on the bedside table, change beside a bottle of cologne on the dresser and a belt that didn’t quite make it into the closet is lifeless on the floor.

A bathroom with a fancy tub, said closet that was the size of your first apartment, an upstairs hallway with guest quarters and office space. 

“Make yourself at home,” he smiles once you land back on the ground floor. “You’ll have to, y’know, so let’s skip the awkward phase.”

“Skip?” You feel your eyebrows raise as you say it.

He walks towards the living room again, coffee still in hand when he returns to his spot on the sofa. 

“You tell me what I can do to make your life easy and I’ll tell you what you can do to make mine the same.”

“Only I’m getting paid,” you challenge, glad to feel comfortable enough to be yourself. A good sign, really. The same way you felt after you met Kyle.

“True, yes—that’s correct,” he laughs. 

You eye him for a second, the smirk on his face told you he liked whatever was happening between the two of you as much as you did. 

“So then, what should I know about this week?”

He thinks on it for a second, bites his lower lip before he makes eye contact. “You’re gonna get sick of me, fair warning.”

“I believe you,” you nod, borrowing his words from the night before, a twinkle in his eye when he catches it.

“I’m there every morning by 6:30am. Seven if I’m reaaaally draggin’.”

“Got it.”

“First mark’s at 8, usually, but I need that time to look, you know, put together.”

“Uh huh,” you open your phone and jot things down: 8am, 6:30am, 7am, the address of the studio that you’d already memorized. “I’ll need the code to the house and a probably business credit card, I think that’s all you haven’t given me.”

You glance up for a second and catch him looking at you, eyebrows raised, like your aura lit up the room or he wasn’t expecting your demands. Unreadable and you don't like it.

“Yes, yeah,” he clears his throat a little bit but still smiles. “I will get you both of those things.”

This is the moment you decide it’s best to leave, you know, not overstay your welcome since you showed up and he was still in pajamas. You stand and shoulder your tote bag, make small talk as he follows suit and soon you’re standing in the doorway just like you were last night. 

“I hope the first forty-eight have been okay.”

Your eyes narrow from momentary confusion, your head tilts. 

“Hours,” he clarifies. “In London.”

“They’ve been good,” you answer genuinely before adding a dose of sarcasm. “Been stuck in one guy’s living room, so I’m excited to see some sights today with Maggie, catch up on some sleep this weekend.”

He chuckles quietly and smiles, a wave of anticipation in your gut when you realize how good it feels to make him laugh. He’s got a hand on the knob and tugs it open, adding: “Brett was wrong, by the way.”

Your brow furrows when you step into the cool morning. 

“The Gherkin’s good, but my favorite view is this hotel--The Shard--they’ve got a great bar at the top.”

The corner of your mouth pulls into a smile, a feeling in your gut, again, that has you desperate to know more about Jason and the show and this world Maggie loved living in. But for now you have to leave. 

One last smile and wave in farewell, “good to know.”

**

Sunday morning had you at brunch with Maggie and Briony, mimosas poured in Notting Hill when you applied chapstick.

“Okay,” you cap it and smile between them both before you bring your drink to your lips, cool, calm, collected. 

They’re desperate for details, you can tell Briony wants to hear about your meeting with Jason and Maggie will take anything. 

She’s already certain you’d soon be thanking her for the gig of a lifetime. You tread lightly: “So, Jason’s pretty nice, seems cool so far.”

“Right,” Maggie narrowed her eyes for a second, looked over to Briony for back up before asking: “why do you sound so weird while saying that?”

You shrug and sip before redirecting, thankful for the sunglasses on your face due to sunny sidewalk seating. “Just settling in, Mag. I spent a solo hour with him yesterday.”

This tumbles out of your mouth before you realize you kept this from Maggie for hours. A whole afternoon of London by tube and dinner with Poppy last night and your morning at Jason’s didn’t come up.

Or maybe you didn’t bring it up because you walked home with a smile on your face and felt like an idiot for realizing that you had a very stupid schoolgirl crush on your new boss. Or, not boss?

A crush that would fade, no doubt. One that was sure to be chalked up to a rush of adrenaline that came with a new city and a new season and your newfound status: single. Or, super fucking single, as Maggie reminded you yesterday.

Briony leaned in, “he’s so cool, such a fun boss.”

“He seems fun,” you say with a nod. “I brought coffee.”

“You brought coffee?” Maggie leans in like you might as well have just told her you showed up naked on his doorstep.

“Yeah…” you eye her, aware that Briony’s head is on a constant swivel between the two of you. “Should I not have brought coffee?”

“No, no,” she shakes her head. “I’m just shocked to hear you’re such a kiss-ass for once. Especially with your new boss.”

“Technically,” you hold up a finger. “He’s not my boss.”

“What do you mean?” Briony asks. 

“I got this job through an agency,” you remind her. “And Maggie, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she takes a sip of her mimosa before leaning back in her chair. 

“So since it’s contracted out, I work for them, technically. Which makes Jason…”

Maggie understood, she’d worked long enough in Hollywood to fill in the blanks for Briony. “The guy you work with and the guy who’s orders you follow,” she giggles now.

“But not the guy who writes my check,” you smile. 

“Ugh,” Briony groans, jealous of the perks that come along with the EA title and the years of grunt work you’d already put in. “One day I’ll make it to the promiseland.”

“And until then you have Jason as your boss, so, I think we’re all doing okay,” Maggie teases. “Anyway,” she redirects. Leave it to Maggie to not give it up that easily. “What did you guys talk about yesterday?”

Her question feels casual, but you’re not sure how much to tip your hat. “Work,” you shrug. “And I’m not a kiss ass.”

“Y/N L/N?” her eyes go wide in jest. “Never!”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: CHAPPIE 2! Okay! A decent amount of you have requested a tag list simply because you're not checking tumblr every day. And you all know I love to give the people what they want, so, JOIN THE TAG LIST HERE. Very excited to get the ball rolling with this story, would love to hear any and ALL thoughts :) :) :)

[cozyfoxy]

Time is on Our Side Part 2

Both 2010 Dan and Phil go into the future this time. What could happen?

Warnings: Smut and a lot of it, mentions of depression/suicidal thoughts

Read on AO3

Read part ONE

November of 2010

For the past week or so, Dan had been struggling with his mental health. His anxiety was at an all-time high and his depression was so bad that he couldn’t force himself out of bed and into class most days. When Phil found out just how bad it was and that Dan hadn’t been sleeping, he put his foot down.

“I’m coming in a taxi to pick you up in thirty minutes. You’re going to spend the entire weekend with me so that I can help you sleep and feed you. Don’t argue, just pack your duffle bag, I’ll see you soon. I love you.” He had said as soon as his boyfriend had picked up his phone. Phil didn’t even give Dan time to respond, not wanting to be argued with.

Dan had groaned, but he pulled himself out of bed and packed his bag. He hated ccwhen Phil treated him like a child who couldn’t do anything for himself. Though he knew that he needed to be taken care of sometimes, he hated feeling weak in that way. It wasn’t often that Phil would order him around, he wasn’t controlling or anything, but when he did it made Dan feel stupid.

As Phil had promised, he was at Dan’s dorm in about a half hour and knocked on his boyfriend’s door. The younger man opened the door slowly, knowing that he looked as awful as he felt. His hair was curling and sticking out in random places, his eyes were red and puffy from crying and he hadn’t showered in a week. Surely, he smelled terrible.

“Hey love, ready to go?” Phil asked, taking Dan’s bag before pulling him into a bone-breaking hug.

Normally, Dan would push him away since they were in public. They were beginning to become more popular online and he didn’t want to risk being outed online. This time, however, he was so exhausted, so done with everything that he just melted into the warm blanket of Phil’s arms. More tears filled his brown eyes and splattered against Phil’s green hoodie like raindrops. “Let’s get you home,” Phil whispered, leading Dan down the stairs of the stale-smelling building. It was all so dull, so lifeless. It was no wonder that Dan’s mental health was hurting.

Dan smiled a bit at Phil’s words. Home… Dan didn’t live with Phil yet, but nowhere else felt more like home. Phil’s apartment had all of Dan’s favorite things, good snacks, cozy blankets, good movies, and of course, his Phil. Whenever he spent a few days with Phil, he always went back to his dorm feeling refreshed. It was like a clean slate each time.

“I can’t wait until my home really is with you,” Dan whispered when Phil opened the taxi door for him to climb inside.

Phil blushed at Dan’s words and climbed into the other side of the taxi, “soon bear, soon.” he had promised.

~

Phil walked into his apartment, lugging Dan’s worn-down black duffle bag over his shoulder. He propped the door open with his elbow and allowed his boyfriend to walk in behind him. When Phil set the duffle bag onto the floor, he pulled Dan over to the couch, “Let’s watch a movie. We can order pizza!”

Dan blinked and smiled sleepily, “Pizza sounds good actually, but I don’t want you to spend money on me. You already paid for the taxi.”

“Don’t worry baby, I just got paid from my video sponsor. The rent is already paid and everything. You deserve it.” Phil explained, cupping his boyfriend’s cheek softly.

Dan wanted to argue, he really did, but he knew Phil was just trying to help him. He struggled with letting himself be loved, he didn’t deserve it. He never felt like he loved Phil enough. He knew his feelings for the other man, he knew that he would bend over backwards just to make him smile, but he wasn’t sure how to show it.

This was the first time in Dan’s life that he had fallen in love. Sure, he had crushes and partners in the past, but it was never anything like this. This relationship felt different, it felt like something strong and everlasting. Even when they had spats, they never felt serious or harmful; and that scared Dan more than anything. What if Phil was too good for him? It felt like it more often than he liked.

“Do you want your usual?” Phil asked, kissing Dan’s cheek.

The brunette nodded and smiled, looking Phil up and down. He couldn’t wrap his head around Phil’s beauty, it was otherworldly. Dan could go swimming in his eyes, but he knew deep down that he would never come back up for air. Phil had somehow become just as important as breathing to Dan, maybe even more so. He so desperately wanted to tell Phil the words in his heart, but he just… couldn’t.

Phil placed the order for pizza excitedly, “I haven’t had pizza in a few months now.” He chuckled, “that’s gotta be some kind of record for me.”

“You had pizza without me?!” Dan asked in a joking tone, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

The older man blushed deeply, “no, well yes, but still no.”

Dan raised an eyebrow and sat up straighter on the sofa, “what do you mean?”

Surely he would remember having pizza with his boyfriend. They didn’t eat pizza together often, it was a treat. More often than not, Phil would make Dan scrambled eggs and toast when he came over. The last time that they had pizza, Phil was still living with his parents.

“Well… um, so you remember I said I was going to make that video a while ago, trying out one of my grandma’s spells?” Phil explained anxiously, his words blending together a bit.

Dan nodded slowly, “yeah…” Phil played with his hands, rubbing his fingers together as if he was going to snap them, “so, it worked. But I didn’t get to film it. I met you in the future. And myself too.” He rambled, looking at his feet. “They fed me pizza.”

The brunette blinked a couple of times before doubling over with a laugh, “Phil, you really had me thinking that I lost my memories or something for a minute. You spoon! Why are you pranking me?”

“It’s not a joke or anything Dan. I promise- I swear! It really happened, I even have proof.” Phil explained before rushing into his bedroom.

Dan was left sitting on the sofa with his mind running a thousand miles a minute. What was Phil on about? Phil knew that Dan was a skeptic. When Phil did the tarot reading, pulling the knight of wands was just a coincidence. Fate, soulmates, magic, ghosts, none of it was real. To Dan, everything that couldn’t be proven with his own eyes and science was just something made up by other humans to give them some kind of comfort.

Phil came running back into the lounge with a folded up piece of paper in his hand, tossing it to Dan excitedly, “when I got back from the future, I thought I had dreamed it and I was upset. But then, I found this in my pocket. Look, it’s your handwriting!”

“This is ridiculous Phil, time travel isn’t real. Magic isn’t real.” Dan argued dully, unfolding the piece of paper. The paper was a bit worn down, having obviously been opened and closed many times before. As Dan looked at the writing, he felt his blood run cold. It was his handwriting, there was no doubt about it. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought that he wrote it himself.

Dan blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he was looking at, “Phil… what the hell? This has to be a joke.”

Phil shook his head lightly, “it’s not bear, I promise! They said something about you being with me next time, so maybe we can try the spell together? I can prove it to you. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll blow you. You’ll get something out of it.” Despite his annoyance, Dan blushed at Phil’s words. He didn’t want to try a spell that he knew wouldn’t work, but the promise of a blow job made it worth it in his eyes. He heaved a sigh and nodded in agreement, running his fingers through his admittedly greasy hair.

“Great! Why don’t you go shower before the pizza gets here? I’ll get everything for the spell set up.” Phil offered softly, placing a soft kiss to Dan’s forehead.

Dan huffed playfully, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I know I smell like shit.”

Phil chuckled and nodded in agreement before pulling some sweatpants and a shirt from Dan’s bag, “there’s a towel set out for you already and a clean washcloth in the shower.”

“Oh… thank you babe, I love you.” Dan whispered, feeling his neck and ears heat up at his own words.

Phil smiled brightly, “I love you too silly, now go. Get nice and clean.” ~ A little over an hour later, Phil and Dan were sitting across from each other holding hands. Phil had already lit the candles and rehearsed the familiar words of the spell with Dan. Since both of them were trying to travel into the future, it made the most sense to Phil that they say the spell at the same time.

“Are you ready?” Phil asked with a small smirk, sending Dan’s heart into overdrive.

Dan truly didn’t believe that the spell would work, but he was feeling nervous. His mind was filled with the possibility of it actually working. What would happen? Would he actually be able to see himself in the future? Did he even have a future? What would Phil be like in the future?

“Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be.” Dan hummed teasingly.

Both men counted down from three before saying the spell outloud three times, one after the other. As before, nothing seemed amiss in the room around them. Nothing looked or felt any different than before.

“You know Philly, if you wanted to suck me off all you had to do was ask.” Dan teased, moving to stand out of the circle only to be pulled back down by Phil.

Suddenly, the strong scent of cinnamon and pine trees surrounded both men. Phil giggled and winked at Dan knowingly, “it’s working!”

Dan froze and clung to Phil’s hands, “what?! Wait, what’s going on?!”

A bright light flashed in front of them both, making them shut their eyes tightly. ~ Dan opened his eyes with a soft groan, his vision still blurry from sleep. What a weird dream. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, Phil curled up into his side. He heard voices, had Phil left the TV on? No… Phil was talking to someone.

The brunette sat up quickly, his eyes widening. He and Phil were sitting on the floor of a place that he didn’t recognize. A large, real christmas tree was perched carefully in the corner of the room, decorated in a variety of different ornaments. He quickly recognized one, the our first Christmas ornament with his and Phil’s name engraved. A gift that Phil had given him just a week ago because he couldn’t wait until December.

“Looks like someone finally woke up.” A deep voice said with a laugh, startling Dan.

He peeked around Phil and gasped. On the large couch in front of them were two men. One with curly brown hair and uncomfortably familiar brown eyes. The other man was curled into the curly haired man’s side, obviously not wanting to be talked to. No… the spell had worked?

Dan stuttered a few times before rubbing his temples, “I… I’m dreaming. This can’t be happening.” “I told you Dan, that’s what you get for not believing me.” Phil giggled, pulling his boyfriend into a hug happily.

The older Dan laughed, “I was always such a skeptic. Welcome back Philly, and welcome to you Danny. Phil here isn’t having the best mental health day, it’s just been a lot today. Meetings, video calls, editing videos, it takes a lot out of him. I’m going to run him a bath, you two are free to join us.”

“When I was here last time they decided to call me Philly so that we wouldn’t get confused or anything. While you were asleep we decided to call you Danny for now.” Philly explained to Danny softly, kissing his cheek.

Danny nodded slowly before looking at his older self in awe, “Um… I don’t want to invade your privacy. We can stand down here.”

“None of that. Come with me and help me run the bath. I know you have a lot of questions for me. The Phils can stay down here.” Dan explained, gently laying Phil down on the couch completely before kissing his nose.

Danny bit his lip and nodded, hugging his Phil before standing up nervously. He looked up at himself from the future, shocked by his height. He never expected to be taller than Phil one day. He wasn’t sure that he liked it, he always liked feeling small next to his boyfriend.

Dan led Danny up the stairs and into a large master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom. Dan went to the walk-in closet and pulled out a soft looking, deep blue robe and some fuzzy socks before walking into the bathroom to start the water. Danny followed him nervously, feeling like he was in trouble, though he did nothing wrong.

“So, I’m assuming this is your house? Like you and Phil own it?” Danny mumbled, chewing on his thumb nail.

Dan chuckled and nodded, “we had it built just for us. A new build. We live on the outskirts of London, just like we always talked about.” Danny nodded slowly, looking at his feet, “so, you know how to take care of Phil.” he whispered.

“Yeah, fifteen years with someone teaches you a lot Danny. It took him a long time to actually accept that I wanted to take care of him. You know how he is, he always wants to be the strong one. But now, he lets me treat him like royalty, especially when he needs it. It took a lot of time, patience and communication. Trust me, it didn’t happen overnight.” Dan explained with a smile, tossing two towels onto the countertop.

Danny rubbed his arm with a sigh, “I just feel like I don’t love him properly. Like I love him so fucking much but I don’t know how to show it. I feel selfish and stupid because I can’t figure it out. He’s my partner but I feel like I take more than I give.”

“Danny, you’re barely nineteen. You’ve got years to figure it all out. It’s all about give and take. One day you take more and the next he’ll take more. Some days he’ll give seventy five percent and you can only give twenty five. It’s all about balance.” Dan explained with a chuckle, “but since you and Philly are here, I can show you one way that I take care of him. I think you’ll like it.”

When the tub was halfway full, Dan dropped in a bath bomb and led Danny back down the stairs, “Come on bubby, the bath is nearly ready. It’s okay if young Phan joins us, right?”

Phil giggled and nodded, “that’s okay. As long as they don’t mind seeing me naked.”

Both Danny and Philly turned bright red at Phil’s words. Danny held onto his boyfriend’s hand nervously. He didn’t want to admit it outloud, but older Phil was one of the most gorgeous men he had ever seen in his life. Phil definitely aged like fine wine.

“I’m okay with it, I mean it’s just myself.” Philly giggled, “are you okay with it?” He asked, looking down at his boyfriend. Danny nodded shyly, “Yeah… nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Dan chuckled and led all three men back up the stairs. He had Phil sit on the edge of the bed before carefully unbuttoning the man’s shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. He did the same with Phil’s socks before turning his attention to his pajama pants. Dan placed a soft kiss to Phil’s lips before helping him move his hips, pulling his partner’s pants and underwear off in one fluid motion.

Danny hid his face in Philly’s neck, feeling his entire body heat up. He knew that if he looked for too long, he would get a boner. He didn’t want to embarrass himself today, especially not in front of himself.

“Damn, I’m pretty hot.” Philly laughed softly, holding Danny protectively.

Dan chuckled softly, “you have no idea.” He teased, leading Phil into the bathroom and helping him sit in the tub.

Danny and Philly sat on the floor of the bathroom, while Dan grabbed a washcloth and used it to wash Phil’s shoulders and neck, occasionally pausing just long enough to kiss Phil softly. Danny couldn’t help but watch in complete awe of the situation. Phil was the one being pampered, but he couldn’t deny that his older self looked relaxed too.

After Dan rinsed the suds from the body wash off of Phil, he used his soap covered hand to rub Phil’s tummy and down to his crotch. Phil moaned so quietly that Danny barely heard it, but it sent his blood straight down to his cock. Beside him, Philly tensed up, watching the scene in front of him intently. He felt like he was looking at something he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t look away.

“I like to work him up in the tub. It helps him relax, especially with the warm water. The gentle touches get him the most. Like, if I stroke his cock with just the tips of my fingers, like this.” Dan explained, petting Phil’s hardening cock with just the tips of three fingers, “He’ll start to lose his reserves.”

Phil whimpered in the tub, biting his bottom lip softly as Dan continued to stroke him with soft touches. Danny watched intently, making mental notes. He and Philly had only ever gone fast and hard, always too eager to feel each other. They didn’t have the patience to take their time. Maybe he needed to try it.

Philly panted softly beside Danny, the view in front of him making him melt. He could feel himself hardening in his jeans, but he was too far gone to care. If someone saw him getting worked up, so be it. This was one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

“Here Danny, give it a try.” Dan offered, standing up and drying off his hands.

Danny looked at Philly, silently asking permission before moving.

“It’s okay with me, bear.” He blushed, “I want to watch.”

Danny kissed him softly before standing up and kneeling beside the tub, nervously lathering his hand with body wash. He had never touched a man so much older than him, and the thought alone was enough to make him full with want. With nervous fingers, he began to stroke Phil slowly.

“Mmm, just a bit more pressure love.” Phil instructed softly, a smile on his face.

Danny nodded and applied more pressure obediently, earning a soft moan from the man in front of him. Danny felt himself surge with pride.

Dan sat next to Philly on the floor with a smile, leaning to whisper in his ear, “you like this, don’t you? Watching your boyfriend learn how to pleasure you? I see how hard you’re getting. It’s turning me on baby. I bet you wish I was touching you right now.”

Philly whimpered and crossed his legs, trying to hide how turned on he was. Dan was right, he wanted to be touched. He wanted to be worshiped. He wanted to be the one in the tub, exposed to the other men in the room.

“Don’t hide your pretty body, love. That’s it, just relax.” Dan whispered, pushing Philly’s knees apart gently.

Meanwhile Phil was panting and writhing in the tub, wanting nothing more than to thrust his hips for more friction. He knew that if he did, that this feeling would end too quickly. So he stayed still, allowing the inexperienced nineteen year old to strong him.

“Alright, that’s enough for now. Let me get Phil dried off and dressed, then I can show you how to give him a massage.” Dan hummed, standing up to let the water out of the tub.

Danny blushed and stepped away from the tub, moving into his boyfriend’s arms. He leaned against Philly, feeling embarrassed and a bit shameful. He had touched another man in front of his boyfriend. Well, not really another man, but someone who wasn’t the same man he was cuddling up to. It was devious and wrong, but it turned him on greatly.

“I never imagined something like this would happen.” Philly whispered with a soft giggle, “well, maybe in my weirdest fantasies.”

Danny gasped softly, “you’ve thought about this?” He asked in a whisper.

Philly nodded, pushing his black fringe from his eyes, “a few times. The thought of being fucked by you in the future while you suck me off has come to mind a few times. I’ve also thought of you fucking me while I suck future you off and older me fucks you.” He explained, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s hair.

Danny stuttered a few times, his cock fully hard in his sweatpants now. He couldn’t fight it off, no matter how many times he tried to ignore what was happening around him. He tried desperately to think about the essay that he needed to be working on, but nothing could possibly distract him.

Dan walked out of the bathroom, with the two towels that he had used to dry Phil off with. He was back within a minute without the towels and grabbed Phil’s hand, “you know the drill bub, hands and knees on the bed. I put the pillow down for you. Make sure that you’re over the towel.”

Phil nodded and kissed Dan deeply, “yes sir. Thank you sir.”

Philly blushed deeply as the words his future self used. Sir… it had a nice ring to it. He and Danny hadn’t used any names like that in the bedroom or anything before, but maybe they should.

“Alright Philly, would you like to join my Phil on the bed? He’ll show you how to position yourself. If you decide to, I’ll be touching you. Is that okay? With both of you? Phil and I have already talked about it, but we all have to be okay with it.” Dan explained, kneeling in front of his past self. He squeezed Philly’s hand in reassurance.

Philly looked at Danny with a shy smile, “I think I want to try. If it’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay with me baby. As long as I get to help.” Danny smiled, nuzzling his boyfriend’s neck.

Dan stood up with a smile, “okay let’s get you naked first.”

Philly nodded and bit his bottom lip before going to pull his shirt off. Dan grabbed his wrist gently to stop him, pushing his hand to his side.

“No love, stripping you is our job. Danny, watch and learn.” Dan chuckled, using one hand to pin Philly’s hands above his head.

Slowly, Dan used his other hand to pull Philly’s shirt up just enough to show his tummy, “pull his pants down just enough to show his hips. Then I want you to bite his hips. Bite, lick, suck, kiss. It will ruin him. Won’t it beautiful?” Dan smirked, nuzzling the younger man’s cheek with his own.

Danny nodded and got onto his knees, pulling Philly’s pants down just a bit. He smiled when Philly took in a sudden deep breath. He quickly placed a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s hip, sucking the skin just enough to leave a mark. Above him, Philly was whimpering pitifully, his legs beginning to shake. Danny used one of his hands to massage Philly’s other hip, all while Dan placed gentle kisses on his neck.

“See? He loves it. Don’t you Philly?” Dan asked, releasing the younger man’s hands before pulling his shirt off completely, “I can’t wait to show you what I’ve learned. Things you can’t even imagine, beautiful. And I’m going to teach Danny here everything, so you can be treated like a princess.”

Philly whimpered and rubbed his thighs together, desperate for something to relieve the pressure that he felt. Danny smirked against the soft, pale skin of his hips before biting down suddenly, eliciting a loud moan from his boyfriend. Danny stood back up and kissed Philly deeply while Dan pulled philly’s pants off completely.

“Alright Philly, go into the bedroom. There’s a towel and pillow for you. Phil will show you what to do. Just relax with him for a minute, we’ll be right out.” Dan chuckled, sending Philly on his way.

Dan looked down at Danny with a smirk, “see how sexy he is? How sexy he stays? That’s all yours and he knows it. He belongs to you, and you belong to him. Show him that you want every piece of him. Tonight I’m going to show you how to milk him.”

Danny’s eyes widened, “but… what if I’m not good enough at it? I’ve never done it before. What if it’s not good for him?”

“Ah, I forgot how much I used to doubt myself all the time. It won’t be perfect the first time, it takes practice. But at least I can show you how to do it. It will be the best orgasm of his life.” Dan explained.

Danny nodded and took a deep breath. Dan grabbed his hand, pulling him into the bedroom easily. On the bed were both Phils, laying down on their chests with their asses up in the air. They both rested their heads on pillows and a towel set right beneath their cocks. Danny felt his cock twitch in his pants once again, precum wetting his underwear.

Dan walked to the closet again and grabbed a large bottle of lube. Danny recognized it easily as the same cherry lube that he and Philly used all the time. It was his favorite as it worked well and tasted nice.

“Surprised? Don’t fix what’s not broken.” Dan chuckled, leading Danny over to the men on the bed.

Danny looked at his boyfriend shyly, taking in his flustered face. Philly was holding hands with Phil as if he were nervous. Hell, he probably was nervous. Danny and Philly had sex regularly, but it had never felt quite this intimate.

“Go ahead and take your shirt off Danny, you know how messy this lube is.” Dan instructed, pulling his own shirt off.

The younger man quickly pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the carpeted floor with a soft thud. He looked up at Dan expectantly, trying not to look at his toned stomach and arms. It was the body he had dreamed of having for years, but he never had the motivation to go to the gym.

Dan caught his eyes and smirked, tilting his chin up with the tips of his fingers, “oh Danny, see how hot you get when you take care of yourself? It’s worth it, trust me.”

Danny felt his jaw go slack as he stared into the eyes of the man he would become. The man that he would grow to be, all because he didn’t give up. He suddenly felt more at ease, more comfortable with his life.

“Alright, just follow my lead.” Dan instructed, walking over to his partner on the bed.

Danny walked closer to get a good look as Dan began to kiss Phil’s inner thighs, sucking the skin softly while using his hands to spread Phil’s cheeks. Phil whimpered beneath him, squeezing Philly’s hand softly as he did. Dan chuckled and grabbed the lube, rubbing it between his fingers to warm it up.

“Come on Danny, open Philly up. We can’t milk him if we can’t get inside.” Dan laughed softly.

Danny walked over to his boyfriend and shyly peppered his cheeks with soft kisses, only pausing for a moment to pull at the skin with his teeth. The breathy whimpers that he earned made warmth build up in the bottom of his stomach. His cock twitched again in his underwear, making him shudder.

“Good boy, now here’s some lube. You’re going to use your tongue too. I’ll show you first.” Dan explained softly, his voice sounding deeper than before.

In a moment, Danny’s fingers were covered in the cherry lube. The smell penetrated his nostrils, making him lick his lips. He watched intently as Dan used his lubed up pointer finger to trace around Phil’s rim. Phil trembled from the touch, his jaw completely slack as he panted softly. Dan slipped his finger in slowly, twisting it around the tight muscle.

“Good job bubby, just relax. Think of how good it’s going to feel. Three fingers inside you, right against your prostate. Tasting you with my tongue. I can’t wait to taste you baby. Danny here is watching. He’s going to see you melt against my touches, he’s going to see just how fucking beautiful you are when you cum.” Dan purred, thrusting his finger slowly before adding another.

Phil moaned loudly, “Dan, it already feels so good. Please… I need more.”

“Soon my love, soon. We can have Philly left out. Go ahead Danny, give it a try.” Dan ordered, still thrusting his finger gently.

Danny nodded eagerly and traced his lubed finger around his boyfriend’s rim, applying just a bit of pressure. Philly whined beneath him, wiggling his ass a bit. Danny licked his lips, slowly pushing his finger in and thrusting it gently.

“Mmm, oh god.” Philly moaned breathily.

Dan hummed, “good, now add your tongue Danny. Like this.”

Dan continued to finger Phil, speeding up the pace just a bit. He leaned down, tracing his partner’s rim with his tongue before adding it beside his finger. When Phil moaned beneath him, Dan thrust his tongue and finger in time together.

Danny blushed and took a deep breath. He wasn’t against rimming, not in the slightest, but he was inexperienced. Blow jobs, he was good at. He had given and received plenty. What if he wasn’t good enough?

He nervously bent forward and swirled his tongue around Philly’s hole before sliding it in next to his finger. He tried to get a rhythm, a good timing but it seemed impossible. Though Philly was panting and wiggling, it didn’t seem like enough.

Dan hummed, “good try. It’ll take a lot of practice to get it right. Here, let me try.”

Danny hung his head in embarrassment before nodding, switching spots with the older version of himself. He stood in between the men on the bed, being sure to stay out of the way.

“Make yourself useful Danny. Stroke them, suck them, do something.” Dan scolded softly before licking around Philly’s hole.

Danny blushed deeply, watching how his boyfriend’s hips thrust at the feeling of being touched so intimately. Just watching the man he loved so dearly in so much pleasure sent a jolt of electricity to his cock. He took a deep breath before sliding himself on his back, onto the bed. He quickly took his boyfriend’s cock in his mouth, using his right hand to stroke Phil slowly.

Both Phils moaned loudly at the touch, making Danny whimper. His sweats felt too constricting. His cock ached against the fabric, and he felt like he could cum any minute.

Dan pulled his mouth away from philly’s hole and smirked, “now this is fucking hot. Look at you, pleasuring two men at once. You’re getting off on it huh?”

Danny whined against his boyfriend’s cock, rubbing his thighs together in desperation. He felt like he was going insane. He was so turned on that his mind was an array of nothing. All that Danny could focus on was the taste of precum on his tongue, the moans of the men beside him and Dan’s words.

Suddenly, Dan moved in front of Danny, pulling off the younger man’s sweats and underwear in a fluid motion, freeing his aching cock. Danny pulled off of his boyfriend’s cock to moan at the freedom. He reached his spare hand to touch himself, only to be stopped by Dan.

“Not yet, this is about them right now. You’ll get your chance. I’m going to milk them both at the same time. Your job is to stroke them while I do.” Dan ordered, sliding two fingers into both Phils.

Danny nodded eagerly, taking a cock in each hand and stroking. His boyfriend moaned his name softly and thrust his hips, while future Phil whimpered and stayed in place. Dan expertly thrust his fingers, finding both men’s prostates with ease. The room was filled with loud moans and pants suddenly, making Danny stroke faster.

“Fuck… Oh fuck!” Philly moaned out, his cheek buried into the pillow.

Dan chuckled, “are you going to cum already baby? Danny, get your mouth on his pretty cock, take his cum.”

Danny smiled and nodded eagerly, moving his head to suck his boyfriend’s cock. He sucked softly on the head while Dan thrust his fingers harder before using them to rub Philly’s prostate. Danny sucked harder, bobbing his head up and down slowly, using his tongue to focus on the tip.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” Philly cried out, tears glistening on his eyelashes.

Danny moaned and suddenly cum shot into his mouth, making him choke a bit before swallowing it. Above him, Philly was still whimpering and crying, clearly overwhelmed with pleasure. Danny pulled his softening cock from his mouth gently and cupped his boyfriend’s cheeks, wiping the stray tears.

“Are you alright love?” Danny asked, feeling worried.

Philly nodded and closed his eyes with a smile, “that was the hardest I’ve cum in my life.”

“Alright baby, lay down and rest for now. Danny, it’s Phil’s turn. You’re going to take his cum like a good boy, and maybe you’ll be rewarded. If you can’t handle it, then no reward. Got it?” Dan asked with a smirk, pulling his fingers from philly gently.

Danny nodded, “I can do it.” He promised, crawling underneath Phil and taking his cock in his mouth.

The young brunette moaned around Phil’s cock before bobbing his head slowly, taking more and more of him in with each movement. Phil whimpered above him as Dan added a third finger into his, thrusting without mercy.

Phil’s legs shook violently as Dan held pressure on his prostate, watching his face carefully. Danny sucked harder, taking all of Phil down his throat proudly, his nose buried in his pubic hair. All he could smell was cherries and musk.

“He’s about to cum, be ready.” Dan ordered, suddenly thrusting his fingers hard and fast into his partner.

Phil moaned loudly and thrust his hips, though he had nowhere to go. Danny’s mouth was suddenly filled with a second load of cum which he swallowed more easily than before. He continued to suck Phil’s cock until it softened and he pulled off shyly.

As soon as Danny moved, Phil collapsed completely on the bed beside Philly who was already asleep. Both men looked so at ease that it made Danny bubble with jealousy. What would it be like to have such a hard orgasm that you felt that relaxed?

“Alright Danny, you did good. Stand up.” Dan chuckled, pulling him off of the bed.

Danny stood on shaky legs, his cock still red and aching. He bit his lip and watched Dan closely, unsure of what he was planning.

“I’m proud of you. You made two beautiful men cum and swallowed all of it. You took care of them, just like they needed. Now you know, you can love Phil, even if you think you don’t know how. It’s not that hard, just do what feels right. Now, how about a little bit of self love?” Dan asked softly, getting on his knees in front of Danny.

For the first time, Danny realized that Dan wasn’t wearing pants anymore either. His cock stood at attention, precum glistening on the tip. Danny couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight.

Before he even had time to react, Dan’s lips were wrapped around his cock, making him throw his head back. Danny pushed his sweaty fringe from his forehead while panting. He fought the urge to thrust his hips, instead burying his fingers into Dan’s curly hair.

Dan looked up at him with hooded eyes, swallowing his cock down entirely with practiced ease. Danny moaned, “you keep that up and I won’t last long.”

Dan pulled off slowly, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to Danny’s cock, “you won’t last long no matter what I do.”

Danny rolled his eyes, “lay on the carpet.”

“Oh, bossy are we? Okay fine, I’ll humor you.” Dan laughed, laying on his back on the plush carpet.

Without thinking too hard about it, Danny straddled Dan’s hips, lining their cocks up together. He reached for the discarded bottle of lube on the floor beside them and lubed his hand up before wrapping it around them both. He slowly thrust his hips, moaning at the new sinsation.

“Oh fuck, I haven’t done this in years.” Dan moaned, grabbing Danny’s shoulders tightly.

Danny panted and thrust his hips feverishly, stroking his hand clumsily as he moved. The room was filled with the filthy sound of skin on skin and their broken moans. Suddenly, Dan grabbed Danny’s hips and helped him thrust, making the both of them shake.

“That’s it, just like that. I’m going to cum, fuck, fuck!” Dan moaned, shaking with the orgasm that overtook him.

Danny panted and thrust his hips a few more times before cumming as well, the cum landing on Dan’s chest. Danny collapsed on top of his future self with a whimper, the orgasm causing his legs to shake. Wordlessly, Dan held him, rubbing his back until he came down from his high.

“You took control. That was surprising, but nice. Let’s get all of us cleaned up, yeah?” Dan whispered with a smile, watching Danny stand up.

Danny nodded and looked over to the bed where both Phil and Philly were fast asleep in each other’s arms. He couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. He should be the one holding his boyfriend like that, but instead he was getting off with another man, even if that man was himself. Was it technically masturbation?

“Stop thinking so hard. Trust me, Phil knows how much you love him. He’ll always know. And if he ever forgets, you’ll always be able to remind him.” Dan promised softly before leading Danny back into the bathroom.

Danny sighed and shook his head, “It’s not that… Well it’s part of it. I’m mostly just in shock you know?”

“That this time travel thing is real? Yeah I was too. Phil remembers his travels, we don’t remember as much. I didn’t remember this happening but I’m glad it did.” Dan laughed, wetting a clean washcloth with warm water.

The younger brunette blushed, “um, no. I mean I am shocked and I’m still not completely convinced it’s not a dream. But I’m mostly surprised that I have a future. I always thought I would’ve killed myself before I could have a real future.” Danny whispered, sitting on the toilet lid.

Dan froze and looked at his younger self. For the first time in years, he saw the hopelessness, the anger and the hurt in those brown eyes. He sighed and used the warm cloth to wipe off his chest before doing the same to Danny.

“Sometimes I forget how hard it was. But trust me, it gets so much better. Things happen that you couldn’t even imagine! Sure, bad things happen too sometimes, life isn’t perfect. But it’s so worth it. Hell, you go on to write a mental health help book! You do get better, you don’t become normal but you get better. And trust me, it’s hard. But you do it. Phil helps so much and you both grow as people, as lovers and as entertainers together. Drop out of law school. It’s scary but do it. I know you’ve thought about it.” Dan rambled, squeezing the younger man’s hand.

Danny sniffled and nodded, “I believe you… this is just a lot I guess. I never thought I would do anything worth while. I never thought that Phil could love someone like me, especially this long, it’s-”

“Dan? What’s wrong?” Philly asked, running into the bathroom and pulling his boyfriend into his arms, “are you regretting what happened? I’m sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t have done the spell. I’m so sorry-”

Dan kissed him softly to shut him up, cupping his cheek, “It’s nothing like that babe. I’m just in my head right now. I’m just happy that we stay together and make a name for ourselves.”

Philly relaxed slowly and nodded, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek, “I always knew that we would.”

“And, I love you. I love you so damn much Phil, I know I’m not the best at showing it or saying it even. But I love you more than I ever thought I could love another person.” Danny whispered, tears springing in his eyes again.

Philly froze, staring into his lover’s eyes before flinging himself into Danny’s arms, “I love you too. So damn much.”

Beside them, Dan wrapped his arms around Phil happily, “Let’s all go to the lounge and watch a movie or something. It’s getting close to midnight and the spell will wear off anyways, right love?”

Phil nodded and chuckled, “yeah, so we should make the best of it. I’ll make popcorn!” ~ A few hours later, Dan woke up next to Phil on the sofa, wrapped up in his arms. He sighed happily, staring at the Christmas tree with a sleepy smile. Phil stirred in his arms and yawned, turning to look at him.

“They went back home, eh?” Dan asked, a yawn overtaking him.

Phil giggled and nodded, “they did. It’s almost three in the morning now. I’ll miss them, but hopefully things will be easier for them this time around.”

“Do we ever see them again?” Dan asked, rubbing his nose against Phil’s with a content sigh.

The older man chuckled, “for a skeptic, you sure seem hopeful that we do.”

Dan shrugged and smiled, “what can I say?”

[lesbianphan]

Two lads, one farm and a DOG

Summary: Phil enjoys some cozy gaming on the couch with his fictional farm complete with fictional dog, and maybe a giant menace on his lap that won't stop trying to get him to do anything but game right now.

Work written for @ilovepinof on tumblr. Thank you for your endless patience on this, hope it's the kind of fic you were looking for <3 This work is a gift for a winner of the fanworks lottery for donating to Dan's 33rd birthday charity drive organized by @phandomgives ! thank you Katie @femslashy as always for the beta reading :D

Pairing: Phan

Genre: Fluff, slice of life

Words: 1k

Read it on AO3

[cat-fried-fiend]

trans Techno SBI fanfic part 1

This is the first part of a fanfic I've been writing. Just felt like sharing :)

part 2

TW: blood, discussion of a period, gender dysphoria, internalized transphobia, harmful ideas about weakness

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“Phil!” Techno shouts, unfamiliar fear knotted in his gut.

There’s the sound of stumbling footsteps racing up the stairs and then Techno’s bedroom door is being yanked open. Phil’s hair is messy, hanging loose around his shoulders and he’s still dressed in his pajamas. Techno must have woken him up. A brief flash of guilt slices his insides.

“What is it? Are you ok Techno?” Phil quizzes, alarmed, trying to catch his breath. A concerned expression is written on his face.

Techno clenches his jaw and forces himself to draw back his bed covers with shaking hands. Sticky blood has pooled onto his bed sheet, staining his pants and covers in a vibrant red.

“Shit mate! Did you hurt yourself?” Phil yelps, approaching Techno where he sits curled with his knees drawn up to his chest.

“No, I just woke up,” Techno responds, absently gnawing at the place where his lip wrapped around his small tusks. It’s not a lie really, he could barely notice the pain that is stabbing his abdomen.

Early morning light drifts through the window and the few birds awake have taken up chirping. It’s a warm, cozy scene. Usually, Techno would find it a comforting reminder of the sun beginning to rise. But today, all his normal feelings seem to have evaporated and been replaced with a dull pinching ache instead. Hurriedly, Techno shoves away the sudden urge to cry which may even be more startling than the blood he’d awoken to.

“And you didn’t scratch yourself with your tusks or injure yourself in your sleep?” Phil questions, less frazzled now, surveying Techno’s bed covers.

“No.”

Phil hums, face drawing into a confused expression. Then he apparently connects something in his mind as his face settles into a tense, guilty, sort of near grimace. It’s almost the same expression that Phil always wears when he’s forced to deal with an awkward situation. But as Phil hasn’t accidentally caught Wilbur and Quackity together with the door shut, Techno isn’t sure why he’s wearing it. Or why a there’s an obvious look of guilt in his eyes.

“Uhh… mate,” Phil says hesitantly, like he’s half sure about what he’s asking, “has anyone told you about a…. period?”

“A period? Of what?”  Techno asks, a scowl starting to grow on his face. He doesn’t know what Phil is going on about. He could be bleeding out and Phil’s changing the subject? Irritation stretches through him as blood begins to dry and itch on his legs and the pain inside his gut just persists.

“Like…” Phil makes a confusing gesture with his hands then grimaces again and aborts his visual demonstration. The man slumps down onto the bottom of Techno’s bed. Sighing, Phil runs a hand through his hair and turns to face Techno.

“Look mate, there’s a few things I think …. I didn’t realize about…yourself,” Phil says slowly.

Confusion continues to pester Techno’s mind. He had already learned about his piglin heritage, years ago. Nothing Phil is deciding to currently discuss connects to the blood staining his mattress. Techno snorts in annoyance and hugs his legs tighter to his chest.

“Ok… so,” Phil stalls, trying to figure out what to say, “You know you’re a piglin hybrid and piglins I think have a different sort of ah… biology and anatomy around procreation.”

Techno nods.

“I didn’t even know this was a possibility, but I guess I shouldn’t have assumed….” Phil’s eyes stare past Techno caught in some distant memory. After a moment Phil shakes his head and continues.

“Humans are different. There’re people like me and Wilbur and others like Puffy and… you I suppose.”

“But you know how to fight too-” Techno argues.

A small but amused grin flashes glints on Phil’s face, and his expression relaxes a fraction.

“It’s not the fighting mate.”

Techno wracks his brain for any other connection but comes up empty.

“I guess you both have the ability to get pregnant-” No, Techno panics, no I really don’t need that ability. Icy fear slips into Techno’s gut. Suddenly, he has a horrible idea of where this is headed.

“-And because of that there are some things that your body does to prepare for a baby. Some of these things happen to be bleeding from your….” Phil makes a gesture and Techno can make a decent assumption of what Phil means.

As he quickly jerks his head in a nod, humiliation quickly joins the circus of horrible feelings that have taken up residence inside. Nausea swirls and crashes in his gut. A vicious, familiar wrongness sickens his chest. It tangles with his fear and knots around his heart. Pain, aching and somehow so familiar condenses into a dagger that shreds Techno’s reality. Wetness wells in his eyes, a lump chokes his throat, and Techno really wants Phil to shut up.

Instead, he just tucks his head into his knees and lets the darkness consume him.

Nothing can harm him here. Here he has no body. Here he can just exist in nothingness.

“Mate?” Phil asks in a concerned voice. The bed shifts and Phil is suddenly sitting beside him, somehow managing to lean back against the carved headboard, wings shifting to flare out behind Techno. Warmth radiates from Phil, and Techno resists the urge to curl into his side. That would mean leaving the darkness and admitting weakness. And Techno loathes that idea.

“I’m so sorry you had to find out this way Techno, I should have told you long ago that this could happen. Fuck, I should have even just given you a basic biology lesson. I guess I was too focused on getting you settled in than educating you on human anatomy.”

Techno makes a sound that is entirely his piglin side, high-pitched and squealy. The maelstrom of other emotions distracts him from the usual embarrassment of making such childish noises.

“Oh mate,” Phil says sympathetically into the early morning quiet.

Wrapping a warm arm around him, Phil tugs him closer until Techno’s nestled against his side but somehow leaving Techno still curled into the darkness of his knees. Feathers brush against his side, blocking out the goldens rays from his widow. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this. Look, I’m going to ask Puffy to come over and explain this situation in more detail. But the basic idea is that you’re going to bleed every month-”

Techno’s head shoots upward, a wild look flaring in his red eyes. The nausea inside has doubled, and the ropes knotted in his chest stretch taut. Techno’s faced countless battles, seen and caused the gruesome deaths of too many people to name. He’s killed and nearly been killed, done what he’s needed to stay alive. And through it all, he’s tried his hardest not to show any weakness, terrified of how it could be used against him.

But for some reason, this is what breaks him. Maybe it’s because Techno finally has somewhere safe to live. Maybe it’s because everything in his past has slowly cracked the dam inside and this is the final blow that smashed it open. Maybe it’s because the ever-present ache in his heart has finally swallowed him whole.

Techno doesn’t know the reason. It doesn’t matter. A sob claws its way out of him, harsh and ragged. He returns to the darkness. Burying his head further into his knees, Techno clenches his jaw tight and smothers the sobs that force their way out of him.

“Techno-” Phil sounds alarmed again, “Tech, mate, can you look at me?”

Techno doesn’t budge.

“Please mate? I know this isn’t great-” Actually it’s the worst Phil, Techno thinks bitterly. “But I promise everything’s going to be ok.”

Nothing is going to be ok ever again, Techno is certain of it. He can feel warm blood soaking into his legs. Another sob tears itself from his chest. Disgust swirls inside and Techno has the sudden urge to scratch his skin off. Instead, he just squeezes his eyes even harder shut. A moment passes. Then Phil begins to gently run his hands through Techno’s hair. This only causes Techno to sob harder. You’re pathetic, his mind spits at him, and now you’re forcing Phil to deal with you. He’s going to think you’re disgusting. He’s going to see how weak and wrong you are.

Because Techno knows his body shouldn’t be doing this. That his body shouldn’t even be able to. He knows this is wrong. And now Phil will know that he’s wrong. And if you’re wrong then you’re weak. And Techno can’t be weak.

Still, Phil continues threading his hand through Techno’s hair, silent now, breathing steady and comforting. The movement against Techno’s side and head is grounding. It draws him away from his spiraling thoughts, provides him something else to focus on besides the battle that’s waging in his chest.

“Mate?” Phil asks quietly after an unknowable amount of time has passed and Techno’s sobs have morphed into heaving breaths. Hesitantly, Techno lifts his head from his knees, blinking away the spots that swarm his vision as it adapts to the brightness of his room. The sun must have risen fully by now. Distantly, he can hear that the number of birdcalls has increased dramatically. Everything is so normal. And Techno doesn’t want it to be. Because if everything is normal then that means what’s happening to him is normal. And it isn’t. It can’t be. Because if Techno’s wrongness is normal that would mean his weakness is his strength and his strength a weakness and nothing would ever make any sense ever again.

Phil rubs his shoulder comfortingly, “I’m so sorry. This must have been a shock to wake up to.”

Techno gives a small nod.

“You know I don’t think any different of you Techno. It’s perfectly normal-” Techno tenses at the word, “er… perfectly fine to be like this.”

He nods again even if he doesn’t believe it.

“Ok… I think you should go take a shower while I head to Puffy’s, ok mate?”

Anxiety claws at his insides, rabid and feral. It’s already terrible that Phil’s enlisting Puffy’s help. He doesn’t want his brothers to know about this. They can’t.

“Please don’t-” Techno blurts out, then inhales sharply, breath quickening, “please don’t tell Wilbur or Tommy, please.”

“Of course, mate, just tell me what you’re comfortable with ok?” Phil replies, giving him a kind smile.

“Ok” Techno mutters, beginning to untangle himself. Everything feels gross and he doesn’t know why he didn’t realize what was happening before. Maybe if he hadn’t called for Phil, hadn’t shown weakness, everything could be normal, or at least he could pretend it was. And nobody would ever have to know it wasn’t. Nobody would have to know how awful and wrong and weak he is.

“Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?” Phil asks, shifting off the bed and stretching with a groan. There is the sound of ruffling feathers as Phil settles his wings against his back. But Techno forces himself to focus on Phil’s question. As he is rather interested in forgetting he has a body right now, any attempt of walking sounds hellish to Techno. So, despite the mortification he’s bound to feel, Techno nods his assent.

“Alright mate.”

And then Phil’s scooping him up like a helpless kid, arms under his back and legs. Unsurprisingly, heat rises to Techno’s face, but his mind is still caught in a riptide of horrifying thoughts revolving around how wrong everything feels. For someone who’s built for flying, Phil is surprisingly strong, managing to carry Techno who is nearly as tall as him, without some much as a huff of exertion. The bathroom is only a few paces away and Techno feels a rush of relief when Phil sets him down on the tiled ledge of the bathtub.

“I’ll get you a change of clothes before I leave, ok? Don’t worry about what you have on, I can do laundry later.” Phil says evenly, giving him another gentle smile. Something inside Techno hisses but he can’t figure out why since his insides are a mess of pain, both physical and emotional. What he does know is that he won’t make Phil take care him anymore. He can deal with this on his own.

Nodding, Techno sits on the edge of the cold bathtub, trying to forget he exists. Nausea is still there, twisting and sickening him. Which only worsens with every tumble of his mind. And Techno can’t seem to find a remedy to this horrible situation. To make matters worse, after only a few moments perched on the cold ledge, Techno hears the squeak of a door hinge and the monstrous groan of a teenager who’s had way too few hours of sleep.

“Phillllll-zaaa” Wilbur whines loudly into the silent house, “Daaaddzaaa, Quackity wants to know if he can come over.”

“Not right now mate,” Phil calls back, much quieter than his son. “Tell him maybe later today.”

Wilbur groans again and Techno nearly winces at how grating the noise is. And then he really does wince when he hears Wilbur approach the bathroom. The door is still wide open, Phil not expecting anyone besides Techno to drag themselves out of bed before ten in the morning. So, he can do nothing as Wilbur shuffles through the door and curses at the tile for being freezing cold. His brother is obviously still half-awake since it takes a good couple of seconds for Wilbur’s bleary eyes to catch sight of Techno.

“Tech? What’re you doing up?” he asks confused. Techno curls into himself, trying his hardest to hide the blood that is staining him. But Wilbur somehow sees it anyways because of course he does. His eyes widen in shock, suddenly becoming much more alert.

“Techno, what happened?” Wilbur questions, worry evident in his tone.

Techno just hunches over and glares at the dirty blue and white checkered tile. When was the last time the floor was cleaned, he wonders, just to distract himself from Wilbur’s persistent gaze.

“Techno, I can see bloodstains on your… pants….and” Wilbur’s voice turns much less alarmed but much more awkward, “…. never mind,”

Then Wilbur is hastily ducking out of the bathroom and retreating back to his room. He knows your awful secret, Techno’s mind screeches at him. But Wilbur can’t. Techno refuses to believe it. If he didn’t know what was going on, there’s no way Wilbur could. That would just be another layer of unfairness piled onto this already unfair situation. But life’s always been unfair to Techno, hasn’t it?

Phil returns a minute later with a stack of clothes and a comforting smile. Leaving them on the counter, Phil tells him that he’s going into town, and he would return with Puffy and supplies to help. Techno internally shudders at what the supplies possibly entail. Then he’s squeezing Techno’s shoulder goodbye and shutting the door.

It takes Techno at least ten minutes to convince himself to get off the edge of the bathtub. And then another five to get himself into the shower. Steam billows around and clouds the air as he crawls under the warm spray of water. And Techno’s glad it obstructs most of his body from view.

When he closes his eyes, listening to the water and letting it wash away everything he feels, Techno can imagine everything is fine. That he’s just like his brothers. That he’s no different from everyone else. And it’s not like he didn’t know that humans and piglins were different. It’s just that he thought that…. he’s not sure. But the wrongness inside doesn’t seem to spring from his piglin half. Deep down, he’d always known it hadn’t. Because even with the other piglins, his hybrid status wasn’t the cause of his discomfort. What the cause is, Techno doesn’t know, and he doesn’t like not knowing.