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the-chosen-fanfiction · 11 months

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Philip | You, Always You | Romantic

Requested: Yes

Whilst reminiscing on the past, you realise the love of your life has always been right in front of you.

Forcing the yawn that threatens to escape back into your system, you rub your eyes tiredly as the light of the flames hurts your eyes. Seated against a log that digs into your spine, you pull one leg a little closer to your chest, hoping to get more comfortable.

The day has been long and tiring, with crowds of people constantly gathering around Jesus and requiring His attention. Although there is no better place than at the Messiah’s side, you are aware that all of you need rest from time to time, including Jesus Himself. Constantly staying alert whilst ushering people into fair queues whilst Jesus did His work was worth it yet physically draining.

Ever since returning to camp, all you’ve been yearning for is to crawl into your bedroll, drape over an extra pelt to keep warm and close your burning eyes. With a rich stew warming your belly, you feel your exhaustion creeping up on you as all of camp slowly starts calling it a day, most Disciples already having withdrawn themselves to their tents, and you are about to do the same when a familiar voice says your name.

You blink in surprise at Philip’s sudden appearance behind you and you turn to face him, your heart fluttering pleasantly at the sight of his smile. “Are you headed somewhere?”

“Well, yes,” you breathe, “I was about to go to bed, actually. Is anything the matter?”

Something sad flashes behind Philip’s eyes, but it is soon replaced by something hopeful. “Well, I was supposed to keep the first watch with Nathanael, but he fell asleep and I can’t get him to wake up.”

You chuckle at the image you can vividly imagine. “That’s typically Nath.” you laugh lightly, “Nothing new with him, hm?”

Philip grins and shakes his head. “He never changes in that regard.”

You hum and are silent for a second, staring at the flames whilst your heart is torn between two things – to call it a day or suggest to stay with Philip for a little while to keep him company – but his request decides for you: “Say, (Y/n), would you like to stay with me for a while? Otherwise, I’ll be so lonely during the first watch. It will only be about two hours until Thomas and Zee will be taking over.”

“Sure,” you tell him, your heart pleasantly skipping a beat. Spending some extra time with Philip is always a dream, but it also makes you worry that you’ll slip up one day, or that you would say something embarrassing that causes him to not like you anymore. For as long as you can remember, you’ve had the biggest crush on him, and the last thing you want is to ruin your friendship by running your mouth. “Where shall we sit?”

“I was thinking, maybe on the other side than where you are sitting right now? That way, we’ll have a better view of the plains.”

You agree to that and shift your position to the other side of the fire, where he takes a seat next to you.

A brief silence befalls you two and Philip is the first to break it. “I can boil us some water.” he suggests, “If you can pick a few herbs, we can soak them into it.”

“Of course,” you tell him, rising to your feet to gather some fresh mint leaves that grow in the shade of a rock formation, whilst Philip rummages around for a bit. You quickly pop a mint leaf into your mouth in the hopes of making your breath a little fresher, for if you’re talking in a low volume, he’s bound to get closer to you. The idea makes your cheeks flame.

After collecting enough sprigs, you return to his side, for Philip has already put on the kettle and has found two clean cups that he brushes clean from dust with the end of his tunic. “Here you go,” you say, handing him the mint leaves, which he divides evenly. You watch him work whilst getting comfortable. “I remember that we used to make this on days that we didn’t feel like going into town to buy food. When we were still with John, I mean.”

“I miss these days sometimes.” Philip muses, “The wild honey we’d add was so sweet, too. I remember your small obsession with the stuff.”

Blushing, you swat his arm. “Hey, I was not addicted to honey. Okay, maybe a little, but it was over as soon as I got stung in my mouth that one day.”

Philip laughs at the memory, swirling the water around the kettle carefully to distribute the heat. “Oh, yes, I remember that. You couldn’t eat properly for two days. Your extraordinarily chubby cheeks looked very cute on you though.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the way he had considered you then, but Philip avoids eye-contact by pouring scalding water into the two cups, handing one to you carefully. His hand brushes yours in the process and you have to prevent yourself from startling too much lest you spill anything, your heart skipping a beat regardless.

“Luckily, it was only temporary. After all, such an experience is not recommended.”

Philip hums and blows some air into his cup. “I can only imagine, and I did feel really bad for you then.”

“You were basically panicking when it happened and my face started to swell up.”

He smiles. “Well, I couldn’t exactly help you in the same way you had helped me when we were children. Remember the incident with the tree branch?”

It takes you a moment to realise what he means, but when a memory about Philip being stung in his thumb after poking a beehive he had expected to be empty, you cannot fight the laugh. “I’ve never heard you scream that hard ever in my life, nor have you screamed like that after.”

Philip smirks and takes a careful sip of his drink whilst the two of you look at the fire. His upper arm snugly pressed against yours makes you soar, his proximity welcome, familiar.

“I do remember that you gave me a kiss on my thumb after removing the sting, and it was as if the pain was gone instantly.”

Your cheeks turn red; You had totally forgotten about that detail, and the fact that Philip still remembered made your gut swarm with butterflies.

“Well, I am glad to have been of service.” you try to hide your sudden abashedness. Philip lets out a pleasant sound, his knee hitting yours playfully.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve often thought back on that moment.”

Flustered, you blink in puzzlement. “Oh? Why?”

Philip finally dares to look at you, his gaze containing something that you cannot quite place.

“Because it was the first time I ever had such contact with a girl.” Your heart drops, then tightens at the implication that he has been kissed by another girl later on in life. “Of course there have been moments during our teens that girls showed their interest by kissing my cheek, but none of them had evoked such a reaction as to when you had healed my thumb that day.”

With reddened cheeks, you avert your gaze. “Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that I’ve had such an impact on you.”

He smiles wryly. “You must think I’m weird now.”

You frown. “How so?”

“Because that was… How long ago? Twenty… Twenty-five years? And I still think about it from time to time, truth be told.”

You nearly drop your drink and carefully put it down on the ground beside you.

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” you muse, “I had completely forgotten about it.”

The glimmer in his eyes dies down. “Do you mean to say that it meant not as much for you as it meant for me?”

Regret immediately shatters your heart, you firmly shake your head, and you lean towards him. “No– No, of course not! I-I mean… Of course it meant something to me, but… Perhaps I was afraid of how much it would mean to me, so I pushed away the memory.”

Philip lets out a sound of confusion. “Afraid? Of what?”

You fall silent, embarrassment clawing at your throat. For a second, you scold yourself mentally – you should have gone to bed, now you’ve said something dumb that will potentially ruin your friendship, just what you had warned yourself about – before you open your mouth to respond.

“I don’t know.” you shakily say, eyelids fluttering as you force back your blush. “Why did you… Why did you never mention it again?”

Philip lets out a sad scoff and lowers his gaze, shrugging. “Well, I always thought you were going to get married to Boaz.”

“Boaz?” you let out a laugh, “Really? Where did you get that idea from?”

With genuine surprise on his features, Philip meets your gaze. “What…? Do you mean that you weren’t going to marry him?”

“No!” you chuckle, “Never even thought about it. I thought he was way too childish for someone who was nineteen and… Well, I wanted to reserve myself for someone else.”

Philip’s eyes widen. “Oh… What happened?”

For a second, you hesitate. “He never asked.” you say at last, which is the truth. “And I fear that he never will.”

The flow of your blood is so loud in your ears that you hope you’ll be able to hear Philip speak as he visibly mulls over the words. “Well, I think that man would be very lucky to have you as his wife, and if I ever run into him I’ll tell him he’s pretty stupid for letting you wait for so long. If it had been me, I would have asked you ages ago.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. Is this a confession?

Suddenly short of breath, you bring your fingers to your lips to touch them, completely in shock. With your free hand, you reach for your tea, that has cooled down enough to be consumed.

“Are you okay? You’re a bit pale.” Philip worriedly queries when you remain silent. For a moment, you’re worried you’ll spit the drink back into the cup. You take a moment to gather yourself and try to come up with an answer.

Yes, this is a confession, you decide then and there. And you’d be dumb to let it pass.

“Then why haven’t you?” you break your silence.

Now it is Philip’s turn to grow flustered, momentarily confused with your words until he thinks it over. When everything seems to fall into place, his eyes shimmer with hope.

“Are you… What are you implying, (Y/n)?” He tilts his head slightly in question, as if he is still unsure.

You take a deep breath. “What I am trying to say is… The man who I was waiting on to ask for my hand in marriage was… Well, you.”

The silence between you two is heavy with unspoken emotion as you stare at one another, neither of you looking away.

“Really?” Philip croaks, “Am I… Am I dreaming?”

Laughing in relief, you shake your head. “No, Philip, I’m very serious and this is very real.”

His gaze flickers back to the flames and he runs a hand down his brow, grunting in frustration. “Oh, I am such an idiot. Have I been that blind?!”

You giggle and put a hand on his arm. “To be fair, I haven’t been very assertive myself, either.”

Philip hides his face in his hands and lets out another sound, still processing what he has just heard.

“Forgive me, (Y/n), I am just… Oh, forgive me for making you think I wasn’t interested, because I am. I have always been.”

“As have I,” you admit, “Since we were teenagers.”

“I’ve loved you since long before that.” His words are so soft that you nearly melt and his gaze meets yours, gently, patiently. “Please, forgive me–”

You cut him off lest he feel bad for any longer: “I have already forgiven you,” you breathe, “There is nothing to forgive, anyways. It turns out that both of us were too afraid to come forward with our feelings and misunderstood the other.”

Philip smiles and takes your hand in his. “Then please don’t misunderstand this, (Y/n).” he mutters, and your breath hitches in your throat as he moves forward slightly.

“Misunderstand what?”

“Marry me.”

Blinking rapidly, you try to comprehend what he has just asked you. When it takes you a few seconds to reply, Philip’s face falls into embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry if I am going too fast, I didn’t mean to pressure you–”

“Yes.” you interrupt, “Yes, I will!”

He exhales in alleviation before grinning from ear to ear, putting a hand over his mouth in disbelief. “Oh!” he murmurs, “Oh, that is… Yes! You’re serious! This is the best day of my life!”

You can’t help but laugh and scoot a little closer to him. “The best is yet to come, Phil.” you muse, and he softens, looking you in the eye.

“Feel free to say no, because it’s not really part of our customs, but… I’ve been wanting to properly kiss you for so long, and at this moment…” He sighs and cups your jaw, thumbing gently at your cheekbone. “I would love to just…”

His voice trails off, and you don’t reply verbally. Instead, you lean upwards to connect your mouth to his, for he has not been the only one to have mustered that desire for the last fifteen years.

Softly pulling you closer, Philip returns the sentiment, wondering why he has ever waited this long, and imagining a beautiful future with you at his side, promising you silently in this moment to always be there for you, like he always had been.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #chosen x reader #angel studios #the chosen philip #philip x reader #philip x you

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frogchiro · 5 months

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Sleazy Neighbor Graves who loves to service your car for you for not money, but the right to grope you

I was actually brainstorming about what should Sleazy!Graves be and now I finally got it thanks to you!!

cw: dub-con groping, Graves being a perv and a sleaze, while Reader doesn't outright reject him, it's still not very willing on her part :(

Graves as the sleazy owner of the dingy car mechanic shop. It's...way past it's years of glory, now shady and quite run down like the rest of this part of town but he's the only good mechanic in the area and actually knows what he's doing despite being an asshole 😭😭

With what little money you managed to save up, you bought a cheap car that would get you more safely to and from work or running errands around town, the only issue was its age and the horrid state it was in. You were so angry when the old thing started to make click clacking noises, you spend so much on it and now it does this??

So you drove to the nearest mechanic; Philip Graves was his name. You thought you'd be more accustomed to the bleak and dingy looking shop due to living here for the past few weeks and yet it still unnerved you, especially when the owner of the shop, Graves, emerged from the back and the moment his bright blue eyes landed on you the most eerie smirk appeared on his stubbled face :((

Would definitely call you things like 'sweetheart' or 'darlin' or even 'cutie' while referring to you on literally the first meeting as you tried to stutter out what was wrong with your car, his intense gaze fixated solely on you and not the car, the smirk never leaving his lips :((

Probably would offer you the 'deal of your life', telling you that if you'd be extra sweet to him (aka let him grope and squeeze here and there on those soft, broad hips) he'd give you a -70% discount on any repair of your car ever. You gawked at the bold and frankly very inappropriate offer, but did you really have any choice? With your meager earnings and all the extra costs of living you'll never have the chance to move out of here :(

Plus...maybe its the environment that changes you, maybe its your desperation or the fact that Graves is very handsome for someone his age and quite sweet in his own...questionable way or maybe everything at once but...as long as it's only touching and 'being sweet on him', maybe it wouldn't hurt that much?

#kin speaks #interactions #asks #RAAAH SLEAZY GRAVES #sleazy neighbour!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves #philip x reader #graves cod

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hollybell51 · 3 months

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Without you

^I would do anything for him

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Philip Pearson x fem!Reader

Travelers (2016)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm as shocked as you dw)

Summary: things come to a head between you and Philip after a close call.

Content: SMUT smutty smut smut. Gratuitous smut. Bit of angst, bit of blood (not too graphic dw), arguments and all that fun stuff. Swearing, cannon typical tomfoolery, making out, hickeys, making out on a table, and a bed, drug references (guys it's Philip), mentioned weird Traveler number names (I made one up just fyi don't bother googling it), blowjobs, bit of dirty talk, bit of hair pulling, vaginal sex, safe sex (yay! Trojan please sponsor me), a little fluff at the end. Philip could possibly be a little ooc I actually can't tell but I did try.

Notes: ok so I've done it again, disappeared for weeks and then popped back up with a new obsession for a stupid little dude in a stupid little show and I've gone and written some stupid smut about it. Philip makes me insane. I cannot tell you how insane he makes me. Like... he is objectively mid. I know this. But he's also so hot??? Like do you get what I mean??? Also WHERE is all the other content for this dude like come on guys I cannot be on my own here. I need some support. Anyways, niche market n all, so I hope you enjoy.

This takes place at the end of episode 3 after Philip got shot, so I've taken some liberties with the timeline (ironic, innit). There's a few extra hours in there, and I know he was awake when everyone was talking after they got back but this is fanfiction and I am God here so you just have to trust me. I wanna blow him so bad it hurts.

Philip was stable. Stable and asleep and breathing evenly on the table, thanks to Marcy. You could see his chest rising and falling out of the corner of your eye from where you were leaning against another table beside the medic, eyes fixed on the floor just in front of MacLaren’s pacing feet, idly picking at your bloodied hands. It was uncomfortably sticky as it dried, and beginning to crack and flake around the creases of your skin. It was going to be a pain to get off.

No one was looking at MacLaren, you realised as you raised your head. Your team leader’s face was serious, dead serious, and you really couldn’t blame them for not wanting to meet that look. You kind of wished you hadn’t, and, as Marcy nudged your arm with her own, you realised that you had not heard a word of what he’d been saying with such gravity.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “Come again?”

He blew a breath out hard between his teeth, taking a step back and raising his eyes to the ceiling. “I was just asking,” he said slowly (oh, ok. So he was pissed pissed), “whether there was anything else anyone wanted to tell me.”

“Oh, right. No.”

MacLaren nodded. “Are you sure, (Y/N)?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Cause I don’t know and I do not want to know what the hell is going on between you two, but I want you to sort it out. Sooner rather than later.”

“Yep,” you nodded, looking back at your hands. You had no doubt that “you two” was you and Philip, and it made you want to sink into a hole. You knew you hadn’t exactly been calm and rational when he’d been shot, how could you be? But it hadn’t been that bad. You’d done what Marcy had told you to. You hadn’t broken down or frozen and maybe there’d been a fair bit of whispered pleading with him to just hold on and just keep breathing, that it was only going to be a few more minutes and he just had to listen to me, keep squeezing my hand. But that had nothing to do with what was “going on” and more to do with the fact that he’d been bleeding out in your lap in the back of a van. Anyway, if you’d freaked out a little, that wasn’t MacLaren’s business.

Marcy’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Hey, Earth to (Y/N).”

You sighed and offered her a small smile. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine. I was just saying that I need to get back to David. Are you–?”

“I’ll be fine,” you interrupted her, glancing at Philip. “I guess someone should stay with him anyway, huh?”

A tiny crease appeared between her brows as she studied you, then nodded after a moment. “Yeah, might be a good idea. It was pretty straight forward, didn’t hit anything major, but still.”

But still. It was still a bullet wound, and as mad at Philip as you were for dragging you all out there in the first place and getting himself shot, you didn’t want him to wake up alone and in pain and craving those goddamn drugs with no knowledge of whether he’d saved the boy, just that he’d killed the kidnappers.

“What about you?” Marcy was saying, and if she hadn’t been using that measured, even tone she took when she was treating or assessing someone, you’d have said it was gentle. “Are you gonna be ok?”

You shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m not the one that got shot.”

Another measured look, then she nodded and stepped back. “Alright. I didn’t want to put anything on the wound too fast, and it’s sealed for now, but it’ll need a dressing if he’s gonna be moving around or anything. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

She nodded again. “Don’t let him do anything stupid. And don’t do anything stupid yourself.”

Despite the anger and residual panic still heavy in your stomach and the blood crusting your hands, you shot her a smile and waved. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” You thought you saw her roll her eyes before the door clunked shut behind her, and you were alone.

You let out a slow breath, sagging further against the edge of the table. You had to wash your hands. You had to scrub Philip’s blood off your skin before it legitimately drove you insane. So, with a groan as your bruised knees protested the shift of weight into them (you probably didn’t have to drop and slide quite so hard to Philip’s side when he’d fallen. That, you could admit, had been excessive), you walked stiffly to the shitty sink and began scrubbing.

Your skin was raw by the time the water finally ran clean, or at least not bloody, and while there may have been flecks of blood still hiding under your nails, your hands were cleaner than they had been in days. Maybe weeks. You really didn’t know if your host had washed them before she was supposed to die.

You glanced over your shoulder as you dried your hands, wincing a little as the rough fabric of your jacket scraped against over-scrubbed knuckles. Philip hadn’t moved and was still breathing, which you were taking as a good sign. You crossed the room after a moment, gingerly lifting his shirt to peer at the spot on his stomach where the bullet had gone in. It was raw and red and far from pretty, but it wasn’t a gaping hole anymore. It wasn’t bleeding, even if it was still covered with blood. Sighing, you grabbed a pair of scissors from the kit Marcy had left lying open on the table, snipping neatly up the centre of the bloody shirt and pulling it (not uncaringly) from his shoulders. You didn’t let your eyes linger on the pale chest, the track marks in his arm, the faint chafing around his bicep. Instead, you turned away and walked quickly and quietly to the adjoining room where he slept, rifling through the pile of blankets and sheets and clothes and god knew what until you found a shirt that didn’t reek.

You ran a clean corner of the ruined one under the tap, spongeing and wiping at the mottled russet stains on Philip’s skin until it was passably clean, the streaks of it on his face from your hands in the back of the van, then wrestled him (again, not too roughly) into the garment and stepped back. He could have been sleeping, really sleeping, instead of passed out from the drugs and blood loss and pain. Maybe you should move him. But then again, he was probably too heavy for this body to lift. Maybe not.

He didn’t really look like himself when he was unconscious, you decided. Even in an unfamiliar body, there was something of the man you knew behind his eyes. You could recognise him past the strange face, make out your Philip in him when he was awake. Like this, with his eyes closed and his face slack, it wasn’t the same. It was like looking at a real, true, genuine stranger. A stranger who wasn't exactly bad to look at (in fact, you quite liked looking at him), but a stranger all the same.

Hesitantly, you raised a hand and brushed at a strand of hair hanging across his forehead. His skin wasn’t icily clammy as it had been in the van, but was still cool to the touch. Softer than you’d expected, though you didn’t really know what that was. You let your fingers trail across his forehead, smoothing a tiny wrinkle between his eyebrows, down over his cheek to his shoulder. You felt the expansion and contraction of his lungs through his body’s movement, regular and deep and alive and you knew what MacLaren meant.

You and Philip were… complicated. That’s how anyone would describe you. He was too reckless, too hasty, felt too much too fast and didn’t think enough (and yes, you were aware of the irony there). And you understood, you really did. It was hard to look at it all objectively, and you couldn’t imagine how it must be to walk around with all that just floating around in your head. All those deaths, when they’d happen and where, and not be able to stop it. But you could also see the bigger picture. What you were doing was important. You had the protocols for a reason and the director for a reason and getting bogged down in the details and the individuals and the humanness of it only ever ended badly. Case in point.

You really should have seen it coming, and now, in the aftermath, you wondered how you’d missed it. His disillusionment. The discomfort when you’d reminded him of the protocols. The discontent and grumbling and (very understandable and reasonable) grievances he’d raised around the whole protocol 3 thing. And you really did get it. It sucked, and the whole reason you were in this was to save people so why couldn’t you do just that? But at the end of the day, you also understood that you didn’t have all the information. Good things could lead to bad things. It might be superstition, but the butterfly effect was all too present in the forefront of your mind.

And that was where you differed from Philip. He didn’t believe in “just letting someone die because someone else decided they’re not worth saving” (a recent and quite heated argument that still rang in your ears) and you… Well you wouldn’t say you did, but you didn’t not either. Maybe that determination and righteousness (“pig-headed”, you’d shouted at him not too long ago) was part of what drew you to Philip, too. It had never not been like that as far as you could remember, and so you butted heads. A lot. And as soon as you had one fight, one of you was rushing back to the other with an olive branch and you were both trying to not bash into each other so often and so hard, then before you knew it it was happening again.

But this hadn’t been a fight. It hadn’t even been an argument. It had been Philip rushing into something his conscience told him was a good idea, lying to everyone else and dragging them all along and then getting shot and almost bleeding to death in your arms in the back of a van. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you were going to say to him when he woke up.

Pull your head in.

What the fuck was that.

I’m so angry I could punch you.

I wish you’d told me.

That was stupid.

Don’t ever do something like that again.

You almost died.

You fucking idiot.

You fucking idiot, you almost died.

Don’t go and almost die ever again.

I don’t want you to die.

I can’t take it if you die.

You blinked, hot tears prickling in your eyes. Before you could even really think too much about it, you bent and pressed your lips to Philip’s cool forehead, straightening almost immediately. You took a slow breath in, held it, released it with a hiss and set your shoulders. There was shit to be done besides hovering over him, and standing here waiting wasn’t going to make anything better. It was going to make you worse.

“Ok,” you whispered, and turned away.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour when Philip stirred. A soft groan had you turning your head from the disassembled gun you were cleaning, watching as he tried to sit up, winced and lay back down.

Maybe you should have started with a nice, simple, normal, “how are you feeling?” You supposed you could have at least smiled at him, even just nodded or raised your eyebrows. And you could admit that the snort had been a little out of line. Still. You’d been festering – that was the only way you could describe how the last vestiges of panic and adrenaline had cooled and settled low in your gut, right beside the simmering anger that just refused to go away. No matter how much you told yourself to cut him some slack and just wait until he was actually awake to hear his side of it. Don’t do anything stupid, Marcy had said, and you were determined to abide by that.

“What…?” he started, then groaned. “(Y/N)?”

“Yep.”

Another groan, and this time you raised your head. He’d swung his legs over the side and had managed to sit up, breathing heavily and gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white. As you watched, he pulled up the bottom of his shirt and frowned at the spot where the bullet had gone in. It didn’t really look like a gunshot anymore, thanks to Marcy’s attention, but there was definitely some bruising around the edges.

“Marcy said to put something on it if you’re gonna be… doing stuff,” you said.

He looked up, dropping the shirt and eyeing you warily. “Ok.” He turned, reaching towards the open kit at the end of the bench, face tight with pain. It scraped along the rough surface as he dragged it closer, the scissors you’d left resting on top of everything sliding out and onto the floor with a clatter. Philip paused, glanced at you, then kept pulling.

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, slamming down the gun in your hand and crossing quickly to him. You slapped the scissors back on the bench, turning the kit to face yourself and rifling through the neatly compartmentalised packets of first aid supplies until you found a wound pad that looked big enough.

“Up,” you said, gesturing to his shirt as you withdrew a roll of tape. Then, with a ‘turn around’ motion, “down.”

He got the idea, swinging his legs back onto the table and lying flat, watching as you tore open the packet and laid the pad against his skin, placed his hand over it with a simple command to “hold it” and cut a piece of tape. He drew in a sharp breath as you smoothed the tape down the edge of the pad, perhaps a little harder than you’d meant, and you paused.

“It’s still…” He trailed off, looking away.

“Sorry.” You were gentler this time, glancing up at him as you stuck down the dressing. You may have been pissed, but actually hurting him was the last thing you wanted to do. It wasn’t as neat as you’d seen Marcy do it, but it was functional. That was what mattered. You lingered a moment, scissors and tape in one hand, the other resting gently by the slightly puffy white square. He’d warmed up, here at least, which you supposed was a good thing.

“(Y/N),” he started, and you quickly withdrew your hand. You were still angry at him, no matter what else was now causing that deep, tight feeling inside you. Like someone was pulling on a string attached to the very centre of your being, right behind your sternum.

“How’s that?” you asked as you stepped back, crossing your arms.

“It’s fine, but–”

“Good.” You turned away, stalking back to the guns on the table before he had a chance to finish. He groaned again as you sat down, not out of pain this time. And ok, you could definitely have been nicer about it all, but you were determined not to be the one to take the first step. He’d gotten himself and everyone else into this bullshit, he could at least be the one to bring it up.

“How long was I out?”

“An hour. Give or take.”

“The others…?” A soft grunt, the rustle of fabric and the sound of feet hitting the floor.

“Gone.”

There was a pause, a few hesitant footsteps, and when he spoke again his voice was much closer. “Not you?”

You didn’t look up as you grabbed another gun and began the smooth, practised movements of dismantling it. “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

He gave a noncommittal little hum, and this time you did raise your eyes. He was leaning against the end of your table, watching you. It may have just been the dimness of the room, or the clouded haze of thoughts and feelings swirling in your own head, but there was something in his face that you couldn’t quite pin down. That wasn’t usually a problem with Philip, he was the kind of person who you could always tell where his mind was. And he always knew yours.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, folding your arms across your chest once more as you swivelled to face him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, his brows pinching together and his arm tensing as the movement tugged at his wound. He cursed softly and glanced down.

“Are you in pain?”

His eyebrows rose incredulously. Ok, yeah, dumb question. Of course he was in pain. You’d be more concerned if he wasn’t. Wordlessly, you rose and crossed to the first aid kit again, withdrawing an almost empty packet of painkillers. You handed them to him as you sat down, and didn’t watch him swallow two. You just heard it.

The silence stretched between you, the occasional clunk of the guns and the quiet ticking of the clock the only sounds in the building. Outside, someone was shouting and the traffic roared.

After what felt like ten minutes but was probably only two, Philip blew out a breath and shifted. “Ok, just… spit it out,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Wow, ok. That was a loaded question if you’d ever heard one. You stopped what you were doing, cooley and slowly placing the gun you’d been about to slide apart onto the table almost soundlessly. “What’s wrong?” you echoed, turning to face him.

He either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the frost you couldn’t have kept out of your voice if you'd tried. “Yeah, cause something clearly is.”

God, where did you even start? He’d lied to you. He’d gone directly against protocol, protocol that could be stupid but was ultimately there to protect you and everyone else. He still hadn’t even actually addressed any of it. Hadn’t checked if you were alright, hadn’t checked if anyone else had been hurt (and ok, you couldn’t really blame him for that, but that was besides the point.) In the end, you decided on starting with the elephant in the room. “You almost died.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. Looked away, back to you. “I didn’t.”

You shook your head. That wasn’t the point. “You could have.”

“And?”

Now it was your turn to open your mouth, only to find no words. You floundered for a second, then, “And? And? Philip what the fuck do you mean and?”

“It’s not like people aren’t dying every day, huh?” He pushed off the table, standing up straight and tapping the side of his head. “Huh, (Y/N)? You get this worked up about them too?”

You shook your head, rising from the chair so fast it skidded backwards. “That’s different. You know it is.”

“Oh, so now you’re–”

“This is not about that.” The words were tight, forced between your teeth as you stepped around the corner of the table to face him. “This is about the fact that what you did was reckless and stupid and you got shot.” You lifted a hand, poking him squarely in the chest hard enough that he swayed. “What part of that is not getting through your head?”

“He was a kid, (Y/N)! A little kid! You saw the place, they’d already killed one. How can you just sit and let that shit happen?”

“It’s not our place, Philip. Bad things happen every day. People die. We wouldn’t be here right now if people didn’t die! I know you're–”

He didn’t let you finish. “You don’t. You don’t get it. If you knew, you wouldn’t be standing there saying what you’re saying. You’d be on my side.”

“Your side?” You raised your eyebrows, incredulous. “There isn’t a your side and a my side. We’re trying to do the same thing! We’re a team, for fuck’s sake!”

“Well you sure as hell don’t act like it.”

“Oh my fucking God.” You could have screamed. You’d really wanted to avoid this. Hadn’t wanted to get into a shouting match when he probably wasn’t even supposed to be walking around, no matter how many dressings you taped onto his stomach or how many painkillers he downed. “You’re being insanely stupid. Insanely fucking stupid.”

“At least I stopped a kid from dying.”

You slammed your hand down on the table so hard it went numb, then burned all the way up your wrist. You ignored it. But still, even through the haze of anger and whatever else, you recognised the words for what they were. He was trying to confirm that he actually had managed to save Aleksander. As pissed as you were, you weren't cruel enough to leave that unanswered. “Ok, fine, you did. He's being reunited with his mother and they're riding off into the sunset and they're gonna live happily ever after. But you could have died, Philip! How many times do I have to say that?”

You didn't miss the tiny flash of relief — or something close to it — at your words. “This shit isn’t exactly risk free. Do you know how many others die on missions?”

“I don’t care.” There were tears in your eyes now, hot and prickling and you couldn’t even care enough to wipe them away. “You were bleeding out on top of me in the back of the van. And it could have been any one of us, too! What if it’d been Trevor? MacLaren? Carly? What if Marcy had taken that bullet and fucking kicked it, huh? Where would that leave us?”

He hadn’t stepped back as you’d pressed closer, and for a moment you wondered if this was it. If you should just walk away now before either one of you did some real damage. Then he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Guess it’s lucky it was me, then.”

You half stifled your sob (an actual sob, which you were not proud of), raising your hand again to slam into his chest, press to your face, run through your hair. “What can’t you understand? Why can’t you understand?”

His own hand moved, slowly and hesitantly towards your arm. He paused and thought better of it before it got past waist height, searching your face. “What’s this really about?”

“I…” You stopped, breathing hard. He was right. It wasn’t just that he’d lied about the messengers or dragged you all on an unsanctioned and ill-prepared mission. It was more than that. It was, when you got down to it, his head in your lap in the back of the van. His blood coating you. His hand in yours. His eyes unfocussed, his breathing too shallow and the possibility that that was the last time you’d ever get to see him. When you spoke, each word felt like you were vomiting up a bowling ball.

“I don’t want to do this without you.”

There was a pause, then, “Fuck. Fuck, (Y/N).” And his arm was moving again, his hand coming to rest behind your head, and before you even realised what was happening his lips were pressed against yours.

It only took you a moment to melt into him, to step that little bit closer and tilt your face towards his, your hands settling on his chest between the two of you, fingers twisting in the material of his shirt as his tangled in your hair. He kissed you like you belonged to him, like he wanted you to be his and his alone. A tiny, involuntary sound slipped from you as his tongue slid between your parted lips, searching and exploring your mouth like you’d been dreaming of doing to him for far too long now. You pushed back against him, sliding your hand up to caress his neck, brushing over the stubble littering his jaw and cheek. The hand that wasn’t in your hair had settled on your waist, pulling your body flush with his, fingers digging into your flesh enough to send heat coursing through your whole being.

You moaned softly, your hold on the back of his neck tightening ever so slightly as you pulled him down further towards you. He was growing hard against you, you could feel it, his own choked hum of pleasure reverberating against your mouth as you moved your hips. You did it again, and this time it was a sharp breath sucked through his nose.

And God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly it almost hurt, but as soon as you had the thought another one rang through your mind like an alarm through a good dream. You relaxed your hold on him, drawing back even as he chased your lips.

“Protocol 4,” you murmured, the tears that had slipped from your eyes already crusting dry on your cheeks.

“We’re not reproducing.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing down to where his hips pressed against your own. You watched his hand move from your waist, down over the front of your hip to where your leg joined it. Your stomach swooped, desire pooling low in you as his fingers traced over your inner thigh, soft and teasing.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, your hands already back in his shirt and pulling him to you, lips crashing against his once more.

He gave a little grunt of surprise, the hand that had stayed close to your hair sliding back into it. But you were moving now, turning and sweeping one hand across the table behind you before jumping up onto it, parting your legs for Philip. He fit perfectly between your thighs, his hardness now flush with your clothed core in a way that had you arching shamelessly into him. His hand trailed down your neck, over your shoulder and down over your ribs, your waist, fingers curving there once more and pulling you closer. You didn’t think you could get any closer, but you needed to feel his skin on yours, touch him and have him touch you. You could feel his heartbeat through his shirt where your chest pressed against his, but it wasn’t enough. You needed all of him.

You managed to wriggle your hand into the tiny space between your bodies, fingers searching for the hem of his shirt and pushing unceremoniously under it. You had your tongue in his mouth now too, stroking and tasting every inch of him just as he’d done to you, and this time you were sure your lips were going to be bruised. Somewhere between your hand on his skin and his shirt being bunched up to his chest, Philip got the hint and broke away just long enough to shrug it off, dropping the piece of fabric on the table beside you.

“Tell me you changed that,” he said, voice low.

You nodded. “I threw the other one out.”

“Mhm.”

“It was so bloody it was starting to go stiff.”

“God, just stop talking.”

You smiled at that, and this time when he kissed you it was less… urgent. Still thorough and firm, still fraught with want and need, but less like a man starved and more like a man who was determined to enjoy a good meal. And hey, you were more than happy to provide that. You were barely sitting on the table anymore, your own wriggling and Philip’s hold on your waist to blame for the edge of it digging into your ass.

Without his shirt, there wasn’t anything for you to tug Philip by as you shifted backwards. He hummed softly when your hands slid up his bare chest, over his shoulders, pulling at him to come closer, come here. He stumbled a little as he leaned against the table, his own hand moving smoothly from its place on your waist down over your hip, along your thigh to your knee and back up again. You lifted the leg slightly, hooking it behind him and squeezing. There wasn’t much muscle to work with, not what you were used to anyway, but his breath still hitched in his chest as you did it again.

His hands were firm on your legs as he broke from your lips, staring at you with that same look you couldn’t quite pin down. Gently, you moved your hand up over his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you cradled the base of his skull. It was so different to how you’d held him in the back of the van, your fingers leaving bloody stripes across his cheeks and neck and forehead, his gaze unfocussed and wandering until his eyes had just closed and you hadn’t been able to get him to look at anything, much less you. But somehow, it was the same. It was still Philip, warm and conscious and standing between your legs, face clean and eyes clear, lips kiss-swollen and just begging to be touched.

You swallowed, tearing your eyes away from his mouth and curling your fingers in his hair as you ground your hips into his. A muscle in his jaw twitched, his grip tightening on your thighs, his face still only inches from your own. His eyes, as they flicked down to your mouth, were dark with want.

“God, (Y/N),” he whispered as you did it again, your lips curling into a smile. He bent his head, breath warm against your neck as he kissed under your jaw, down the muscle at the side of your neck, sucking gently at the spot.

“Philip,” you sighed as he did it again, harder this time. Fuck, you hoped he left a mark. You cursed as the thought that that was probably a bad idea hit you, pulling gently at his hair to raise his head.

“Is that…?” he frowned, uncertain.

“No, no I like that. A lot. I just…” You stopped, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head, dropping it beside his. “I think here is better?” you offered, pointing to your chest.

“Oh, ok.” His smile was quick as he bent once more, overtaken by a wince as it pulled at his side.

“Are you alright?” you asked quickly, ducking your head to meet his eyes.

“Fine,” he said tightly, leaning forwards once more.

“No, wait a second. You got shot, Philip. You’re not… Jesus, I don’t know if we should even be doing this.”

A pause as he searched your face. “I want to. I want you, (Y/N), if you want me.”

“I do. I really, really do. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. “You won’t.”

“You’ll tell me if I do?”

“You won’t.”

You huffed and crossed your arms, covering your chest. “Promise.”

“Ok, fine,” he sighed. “I promise I’ll tell you if you hurt me.”

“Ok.” You smiled again as you closed the little distance between you, unfolding your arms to run your hands over his chest. “Bed,” you murmured against his lips. Then, when you felt him hesitate, “it’s better than the table.”

He barely pulled away, even as you slipped from your perch and followed him to the door in the corner, through the mess you’d rifled through earlier and towards the bed. You turned, pushing him gently onto the edge of it, your hand resuming its place in his hair as you bent to kiss him again. His own hand had settled once more on your waist, and as you licked lightly at his bottom lip it slid up your side, hovering over your ribs. His thumb skimmed the skin just shy of your breast, where your bra sat, and you smiled even as you mapped the inside of his mouth with your tongue.

“Off,” you muttered, still kissing him as he undid the clasp behind your back (albeit with a little difficulty) and slid the piece of fabric from your shoulders. You raised your free hand, placing it over his and moving it those last few inches to your breast, squeezing your fingers over his. He drew a sharp breath and you squeezed your own breast for him again before dropping your hand to cup his jaw. You tilted his head gently further upwards, stepping between his legs as his thumb swiped an arc over your skin. Then he squeezed – just as gently as ever – and you let a moan slip from you. He took that as encouragement, pulling you even closer with his free hand as he moved, kneading the soft flesh, moving his hand until his finger brushed over your nipple and you half moaned, half gasped against his mouth.

He paused, then when you pushed harder against him did it again. You whispered a breathy “yes,” hardly drawing back at all before you were sinking to your knees between his, Philip following until he couldn’t, simply staring at you.

“What are you doing?”

Oh, you liked the view from here. You smiled as his fingers spread over your jaw, turning your face to place a kiss on the palm of his hand as you slid your own up his thighs. You paused when you reached his hips, nodding to the now very noticeable bulge in his pants. “Can I?”

You thought there might have been a faint flush dusting his face, but it was really too dim to tell. Either way, he nodded and watched as you undid his pants, lifting his hips as you pulled them down to pool around his ankles. His cock strained against his underwear, and your mouth watered as you looked up at him. His cheeks were definitely pinker than usual, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, not looking away even as you removed the last piece of clothing between you.

“Fuck, Philip,” you breathed, glancing from his face to his dick and back again.

He frowned, unsure. “What?”

You grinned. “I can’t wait to put that in my mouth.”

His thigh tensed under your hand, breath hitching in his chest. “Jesus, (Y/N), you can’t just say shit like that.”

“What?” you asked, bending forwards to place a kiss on his stomach, your thumb moving in slow circles on his skin. “That I’m gonna take you until I choke? That I’m gonna ride you so hard you’ll see stars, let you fill me up and fuck me six ways into next week?”

Before you could look up again, his hand was under your chin and he was raising your face for you, fingers careful where they gripped your jaw. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he said softly.

You raised an eyebrow, finally reaching out and gently taking hold of his cock. “Don’t I?” you asked as you moved your hand, want surging hot through your whole body as he moaned low and deep. You shifted closer still, settling yourself between his legs before you bent your head and kissed the tip of his dick, licked it, relishing in Philip’s quick hiss of breath.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped as you sank your mouth over him, heavy and hot and already salty with precum. “Oh, fuck, (Y/N).”

You drew back, glancing up at him. Holy shit you never wanted to forget the look on his face – pure want, and directed entirely at you. “Ok?” you asked.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Shit, ‘s more than ok.”

“Good,” you smiled, licking a long stripe up his shaft and sliding your lips over the head once more, tongue soft and pliant against him. Your hand worked what wouldn’t fit in your mouth, slow strokes to match the slow bobbing of your head.

His stomach twitched as you hollowed your cheeks, another groan reverberating through his chest. You’d wanted to be gentle with him despite what you’d said, and were all too aware that he was still injured and maybe this had been what Marcy had meant when she’d told you not to do anything stupid. Not to let him do anything stupid. Well, it was too late now. What the medic didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, or anyone else.

You snuck another glance at Philip, the sight that met you sending a fresh bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. His head was tipped back, neck and jaw barred to you, his nose ring glinting in the dim light, chest heaving and hands tight where they gripped the sheets. You wanted to memorise him, here in this moment, and never let it go. You clenched your thighs, shifting in your search for a little friction, any relief at all.

Philip cursed softly, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he lowered his head to look down at you. “You’re so fucking hot,” he breathed, one hand trailing over your upper arm, your shoulder, weaving through your hair. He didn’t pull it, as such, but the pressure and the praise together was enough to make you moan around his cock. His hips jerked with the sound, fingers tightening and a muttered “fuck,” slipping from his lips.

“Hm?” You didn’t stop, eyes watering as you sped up your movements, his dick slick with your spit and only getting messier. Maybe with anyone else it would have been gross, but not with him. Never with him. His hips bucked up again, followed by a quickly gasped apology and a loosening of the grip on your hair. You rubbed your free hand over his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s ok, it said. I’m fine. Then, as you squeezed his cock and relaxed your throat even further, please.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Please, (Y/N), that’s—”

You hummed again, pulling your head back and sucking at just the tip, tongue flicking over the sensitive slit across it. He cursed again, loudly, your name falling from his lips once more. He thrust up into your mouth, hard enough that your eyes watered and you wondered if you were going to gag. You hoped not.

“Don’t stop,” he practically pleaded. “Shit, don’t stop.”

You wouldn’t dream of it. You sped up again, sucking hard and sagging over him, mapping every inch of his cock, every ridge and vein and sensitive spot. God, you could stay here forever, the warm weight of him in your mouth and his hand in your hair, listening to his moans and grunts and uneven breaths.

“I’m— shit, fuck, fuck, (Y/N) I’m so fucking close.”

That sent a thrill through you, the wet heat between your legs almost unbearable now. You took him deep, a gentle squeeze to his thigh the only reassurance and confirmation you could offer as you looked up, your vision slightly blurry, blinking rapidly to clear it. There was no way you were going to miss this.

Then he was groaning deeply, hand tightening in your hair and head thrown back, dick twitching in your mouth as he spilled hot and thick down your throat. His chest heaved as he said your name like a prayer, repeating it over and over again until it blurred into one sound. How many times had you wondered what he’d sound like? What he’d taste like? What he’d look like here, like this? It was better than anything your mind could ever conjure.

You swallowed, slowing your movements as he rode out the high, only drawing back when his breathing had slowed and he’d ceased trembling. You licked over him gently, cleaning up the worst of the mess of spit and cum, wiping the corners of your mouth delicately. You sat between his legs, tracing little arcs over his skin with your thumb.

“Alright?” you asked softly.

He took a long, shuddering breath and looked down at you, nodding. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. You pressed your cheek into his palm as he slid the hand that had been gripping your hair down over your face, turning quickly to kiss it.

His brows creased, and he paused. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head, rising on stiff legs and taking his face between your hands. “You could never,” you said softly. Then a thought occurred to you. “It wasn’t… too much?”

He huffed a laugh at that, shaking his head. “No. You were great. Better than great.”

“Mm, good.” You smiled as he raised his hand to cup the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and into a gentle kiss.

“Off,” he murmured against your lips, free hand running along the waistband of your pants.

“Magic word?”

He just rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“Say it again,” you grinned.

This time he paused, drawing back ever so slightly, searching your face.

You just shrugged. “They’re not coming off if you don’t ask me nicely.”

His hand dropped from your neck, skimming over your chest and stomach to rest on your hip. He held your gaze as he leaned closer, large hands firm and warm against you, then dropped his eyes to your skin as his lips met your stomach. You felt your insides turn over as he kissed you there, your teeth digging into your bottom lip hard enough that it almost hurt.

“Philip,” you started, then hissed as he did again, his tongue soft and hot where it touched you – so quickly you wondered if he’d even meant to do it. But no, there it was again, the sensation sending more electric heat shooting through you. You moaned outright when he sucked at the spot, hand flying to his hair, fingers curling in it. God, you’d never get tired of that, and from the way he hummed against your stomach neither would he.

“Philip,” you breathed again. “Philip, that’s not asking nicely.”

He glanced up at you, and you could have come undone from that alone. His tongue darted out over his lips. “Then can I please take off your pants?”

Oh you really didn’t want to give in that easily. A few kisses and half a hickey on your stomach and you were caving? Really? But then he was whispering “please” and his breath was raising gooseflesh all over you and you were tingling all over and his voice was so soft and husky like this and–

“Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, frozen as he waited.

“Yes, Philip. Sí, ja, oui, just—” Your breath caught as he pulled you close before releasing your hips, making quick work of your fly and easing your pants down over your hips. Your underwear followed suit, pooling around your ankles before you kicked both pieces of clothing off to the side and stood, completely bare, between Philip’s legs.

“God, (Y/N),” he murmured almost reverently, stroking down over your hips and thighs, around behind your knees and up to your ass. And wow that did something to you.

“Can I?” You motioned to his lap, already bending your knee at the edge of the mattress.

Philip nodded quickly, already inching backwards to make room for you on the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.”

You smiled, bringing your lips to his for what had to be the millionth time as you straddled his thighs and draped your arms around his shoulders, his lips parting easily under yours, his tongue dancing alongside your own as if he’d been born to kiss you.

“I wanna touch you,” he said softly into the space between your mouths. He was all over you, kissing along your jaw and neck and under your ear, touching your back and sides and legs and hips and ass, pressing flush against you. The only part of you that hadn’t touched him yet was, ironically, where you wanted him most.

“Please,” you replied almost immediately. “I want you to.”

A breath of laughter hushed over your chest as he ran his hand up over the top of your thigh, along the spot where it joined your hip, tantalisingly close to the throbbing heat between your legs. You bit your lip, watching his face as his fingers crept ever closer.

“Philip,” you warned.

“Hm?”

“Stop teasing.”

“I’m not, I’m just… taking my time.”

“Well— fuck.” The word was torn from you as his hand moved that last tiny distance, fingers sliding easily through your wetness.

“Jesus, (Y/N),” be breathed. “You’re…”

“Really fucking wet?” you suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it. I didn’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Didn’t think I did anything that special.”

You snorted, shifting closer still. “It’s you, Philip. I just really, really, really, want you.”

He stilled for a moment, studying you like he was trying to memorise every cell making up your face. Then he stretched up and kissed you, stifling your moan with his lips as his finger slid over your clit. He did it again, a small, precise movement that had you grinding against his fingers as your own tightening on his shoulders.

“There?” he asked, barely breaking away from you.

“Oh God, yes. Yes, right there.”

His eyes didn’t leave your face as he circled your clit, your breathing ragged and your body arching into his of its own accord. You bit your lip hard enough that it hurt, trying desperately to stifle another embarrassingly desperate moan. God, how was he so good at this?

“Don’t do that,” he muttered, leaning forward to kiss along your collarbone.

“What?”

“Try to be quiet. I wanna hear you, wanna hear everything.”

“Shit, Philip,” you panted.

“Ok?”

“Ok. Ok, I— fuck.” He’d sucked hard at a spot on your chest, the faint pain cutting through the sharp pleasure spiralling from his hand. “Fuck,” you whispered again, your own hand flying to his hair as you scrambled for purchase.

“Mhm, that’s it.”

You felt the praise, something about the quiet huskiness of his voice and the way he gripped your hip making you squirm. “Philip please,” you gasped. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I want you inside me. I need you inside me, now.”

He cursed, fingers leaving your clit to circle your entrance, almost tentative. Double checking.

You shook your head. “No, that’s not what I mean.”

He frowned, raising his head.

You let go of his hair, brushing a stray piece from his forehead as you slid your other hand down his front. You glanced at the tiny remaining space where his cock sat, hard again between you. You spat into your palm before wrapping your hand gently around it, moving your fist slowly. “I mean here, Philip.”

“Oh.” He swallowed hard, searching your face. “Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I’m sure. Are you?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Fuck yes, I’m sure. Just—” He pulled away, reaching for the overcrowded nightstand (which, now you were looking at it, you were pretty sure was just a small filing cabinet) and rifling through the first one. When that didn’t turn up anything, he reached for the second.

“What’re you looking for?” you asked as he moved on to the third.

“Condom,” he grunted, then withdrew his hand triumphantly to show you a square of faded red foil.

“Jesus, how’d you know that was gonna be there?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like the kind of place to put one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

“Ok?”

“Mhm.” You surveyed the package as he opened it, placing the foil pieces on the filing cabinet. “They don’t just… stop working, do they? If they’re a bit old?”

He frowned. “Don’t think so. It’s only a month out of date, anyway. Less, actually. And it wasn’t open.” He looked up, meeting your eyes. “We could get more?”

“No, no it’s ok. I trust you.”

“Trust Trojan.”

“Fine, I trust Trojan.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he rolled the piece of latex over himself. The dressing on his side gleamed eerily in the dimness, and you silently cursed yourself. How had you not thought of that?

“Is that gonna be alright?” you asked, gesturing to it.

Gingerly, he ran a finger of it. “I think so.” Then, as if it explained everything, “Painkillers.”

“Ok, just—”

“Let you know if it hurts,” he interrupted. “I will.”

You rolled your eyes as you lifted your hips, bracing yourself on his shoulders. “Alright. Ready?” At his nod, you sank down slowly onto him, pausing as you adjusted to the stretch.

“You ok?” he asked, breath unsteady, grip firm around your waist.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Gimme a second.” A soft moan slipped from you as you lowered yourself the rest of the way down, glancing at Philip. “This ok?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes dark, lips parted. “Uh-huh. You?”

“Yeah. Can I move?”

“Yes. Please, (Y/N), you can—” He broke off with a groan as you rocked your hips over his, slowly at first, finding your rhythm. It may have been a little tight initially, but now as you moved atop him you slid easily, Philip’s uneven breath and your own soft moans mingling in the space between your faces.

“Fuck,” you panted. “Fuck, Philip you feel fucking amazing.”

“(Y/N), oh, you— you feel amazing.”

You brought your lips to his, messy and uncoordinated and hardly a kiss by any stringent definition. You moaned into his mouth as you took him deep inside you, the delicious friction of his cock lighting every inch of your insides on fire. You needed him, needed to go harder and faster and—

“Harder?” he half asked, half offered. It was like he’d read your mind.

“Yes,” you whispered, lifting and lowering your hips with a little more of the desperation filtering through every fibre of your being.

“Oh, yes, fuck yes—” His hips jerked up into yours, hands almost rough on your hips as he guided your movements. “Used to dream about this,” he confessed to your neck. “Having you like this.”

Oh shit. You hadn’t been expecting that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. What you’d look like. Sound like. What you’d— ah— feel like.”

“What do I feel like?” you breathed, then cursed loudly as he reached down between your bodies and rubbed at your clit.

“Like Heaven. You feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I—”

You cut him off, tilting his face to yours and kissing him so hard you thought he was about to overbalance. But he held you tight, lips and teeth and tongue clashing against yours, swallowing your increasingly desperate moans and whines — because yes, you’d gotten to the point where you were almost whimpering.

“Philip,” you practically sobbed, pleasure coiling tight and hot and hard with every push of his cock inside you, every movement of his finger on your clit. “Philip fuck don’t stop—”

“Yeah, no, shit (Y/N), keep doing that.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you managed. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum—”

“Me too, you’re gonna— again—”

“Yeah, Jesus Christ 33— Philip—” And then you were crying his name over and over, white hot bliss flooding out through your body, back arching and legs spasming as Philip continued to move you. You were vaguely aware of his arms tightening around your waist and his face pressing into your neck, his chest heaving against your own, your name and what you thought might have been your number — both familiar and strange and so deeply tied to home it almost shocked you — mixed with his deep groans as he too climaxed. You hovered, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, breathing heavily as the aftershocks faded from trembling limbs and your heartbeats slowed to normal.

After what felt like an age, you turned your head and kissed Philip’s temple, combing your fingers gently through his hair. He hummed appreciatively, raising his head from where his spit and your own sweat mingled at the joining of your neck and shoulder. He rubbed the spot softly, placed a featherlight kiss there and drew back to look at you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured.

You smiled. “Mm, I think I have some.”

His laugh was little more than a huff of air. He shook his head and he lifted you carefully off his lap, turning on the tiny mattress and pulling you close. You frowned at the sudden empty feeling inside you, but then he was tying shut the condom and dropping it on the nightstand, wrapping his arm around you and wriggling impossibly closer. You slid your hand up over his side, pausing when your fingers brushed the tape you’d used on the dressing. You were tempted to check it, make sure you hadn’t disturbed the wound at all — you’d never hear the end of that from Marcy.

You drew back just enough that Philip’s face came into focus, cheeks still faintly flushed, nose ring gleaming dully. He was already looking at you, his thumb moving in tiny half circles on your back, something close to awe shining in his eyes.

“What?” you asked, smiling.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. What’s going on in that super brain of yours?”

“Super brain?”

“Yeah. Your big historian super brain.”

His lips twitched up into a smile, soft and a little confused and all for you. “Not much,” he replied. “You, mainly.”

“Wow, ok.” You snorted, relaxing your neck and letting your face fall against his chest. He didn’t exactly smell nice, but something about it was incredibly comforting. There was that little breath of laughter again, his body moving with it and jiggling you.

“At least now I know you think I’m smart,” he said.

“Of course I think you’re smart. I think you’re a goddamn genius. The things you think of…” You trailed off, shaking your head. When you continued, it was in a whisper. “I think you’re amazing.”

He stilled, and for a moment you wondered if you’d said the wrong thing. Then, “I think you’re amazing, too.”

You lifted your head again, stretching up to brush his lips with yours. You shifted, but groaned as your thighs rubbed together. Your wetness was cooling between them, uncomfortable and slimy now that you weren’t moving with Philip anymore.

“I’m gonna clean us up,” you said softly, already drawing away.

“(Y/N), wait a second—”

You turned as he caught your wrist, watched him sit up with a faint wince. “What?”

“Nothing just…” He shrugged, still watching you.

You smiled, reaching up under his chin with your free hand as you stepped closer. You leaned down, and this time when you kissed him it was soft and tender and slow and careful. His lips parted, his hand still gently holding your wrist as he kissed you back with just as much care and deliberation. You could have stayed there forever, tongues and lips locked in a slow sort of dance. But the air was cooler when you stood, and the mess between your thighs really was uncomfortable.

“I’ll be back,” you whispered as you drew away.

He just nodded, eyes following your every movement as you swiped the used condom and wrapper, wrapped yourself in a blanket and stepped out into the main area. You were quick to find a towel, wet it, wipe yourself down, dispose of your rubbish inside an empty chip packet and pad back into the bedroom.

You slid onto the edge of the bed, glancing to Philip for permission before gently cleaning around his crotch. You wished there was a shower. You just wanted to stand under a flow of hot water (one of the things you’d been looking forward to most about the 21st century), maybe with the man currently watching you like you’d personally hung the stars, and not think about anything.

“Still just thinking about me?” you asked, half joking, as you dropped the towel over the edge of the bed and draped yourself along Philip’s side. You could hear his heart directly under your cheek, feel the expansion and contraction of his ribs on your front. You shifted closer and hooked your leg over his.

“Mm, pretty much.”

“What else?”

He paused, then, “Did you almost call me 3326?”

It was your turn to hesitate. “Maybe. Almost.”

“Thought so. Wasn’t sure if I was just hearing things.”

You looked up, frowning. “You hear things a lot?”

He just shrugged, then muttered an apology as you moved with his shoulder. “A bit, yeah.”

“Ok.” You weren’t sure what to do with that information, so you just turned your face and kissed his chest. “I could have sworn I heard you call me 3430.”

“Maybe.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Maybe you’re hearing things too.”

“Maybe, Philip, but I don’t think so. Leave the future in the past.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know.”

You squeezed him gently, and his arm tightened around you momentarily in response. You could get used to this, you thought as you closed your eyes. Your body was so heavy, and Philip was actually warm now. Warm and firm and real and very very comforting. “Can I stay?” you whispered. “Here? With you?”

When he answered, his voice was just as soft as your own. “Yes. I don’t want you to go.”

“Mm, I’m not going.”

He stroked your shoulder, the movement almost hypnotic. “Good.” You were vaguely aware of his arm moving, then something thick and a little itchy was being dragged over your bare body and his other arm was coming to rest over your waist, hand heavy and so warm on your back. The last thing you were aware of was the faint brush of stubble and a kiss on your forehead.

Note: obviously don’t use expired condoms that’s stupid. Anyways I binge read acotar like a few weeks ago and I genuinely think my writing skills have gone downhill because this is NOWHERE NEAR some of my other stuff. Not to toot my own horn and like I know I'm not the most amazing writer in the world but I am usually decent as far as smut goes. This is not on the same level. Also I had no idea how to address the host thing or the names thing or the numbers thing so I chose to simply mention it and hope for the best. I apologise (there really isn't much about this show floating around, huh). Also I'm only just realising this is weirdly similar in a lot of ways to my Ethan Hunt x reader one, but I really like this specific trope so yeah... deal with it lol

#travelers netflix #philip pearson #philip pearson x reader #philip x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #fem!reader #philip x you #philip travelers

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fattened-goose · 11 months

Text

Stargazing | Philip, Simon the Zealot, and Big James.

A/N: I realize some of these aren’t really under the brim of stargazing, but I couldn’t think of something else that would fit for a title ‘cause I’m not that creative. 😅 these are my first preferences on this blog, and I’d like to thank my dear friend @multifandomsofficial for helping me out with them.

Warnings: possible bad writing and punctuation.

From the first day you’d started to follow Jesus you’d caught his eye. The memory of your first day brought the corners of his lips into an upturned U shape. You looked lovely that day too, but following Jesus had made you even lovelier. You never seemed to pay him any mind though, always spending your time learning scripture with Mary M and Matthew.

Sure, you’d greet Philip in passing but you never seemed drawn to him. He was drawn to you though, which is what made him approach you even though he was nervous. Wiping his palms against his tunic, he approached you, a small grin twisting his lips upward when you greeted him with a smile.

“Shalom, Philip.” The words left you gently and quietly, the small nod of your head that accompanied them boosting his moral.

“Shalom, Y/N, may I join you?”

He fidgeted slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hopeful glint as he waited for your reply. Heart warming at his inquiry, you nodded quickly before patting the blanket beside you.

“Of course!”

With a widening smile, his skin crinkled around his eyes a bit as he sat down. Scooting so there was a respectful space between you, his fingers brushed against yours lightly in the process, bringing a red tint to his cheeks as well as your own. You, however, failed to notice the blush that covered his cheeks as you gazed up at the stars that blanketed the sky.

Beautiful, dazzling orbs of milky crystal that twinkled brightly around the perfectly full moon. The sounds of the crickets chirping and the wood crackling on the fire only adding to the peaceful delight. The ambience of it all bringing a grin to your face which Philip hadn’t failed to notice, all the more adding to his own grin.

Where you had failed earlier to notice his blush when his fingers brushed yours, you didn’t fail to pick up on him glancing at you from the corner of your eye. It was now your turn to blush, a gentle laugh escaping from your lips at the attention. The sound making him chuckle gently, the two of you breaking the comfortable silence you’d been in.

Daring to look over at him, your eyes landed on his kind dark ones, twinkling in the fire light. A shy smile covered your lips before looking back at the sky.

“Do you like stargazing?” The question breaking the comfortable silence you both had been resting in.

“Yes, but I don’t know enough about it to even know what I’m looking at…” you admitted, eyes drifting back over to his, “I’m a novice.”

“We all have to start somewhere, huh?” Tone light as he winked at you before motioning back up to the sky, his hand sweeping in an arc over it, “would you like to learn some constellations?”

“Only if you’d like to teach me some.” You beamed at him, the sight making his stomach as well as your own flutter.

“Sure, it’s one of my talents; being able to recite Torah at the drop of a hat and pointing out constellations.” His good natured bragging followed by a chuckle and a smile.

“Surely, you have more than two talents.” You teased back, eyes meeting his again as you worked up courage to be a little bolder. Your nerves relaxing a bit due to his kind and goofy demeanor.

“Well, nobody wants to be around a braggart.” He joked, “besides, if I tell you everything I’ll have nothing left to impress you with.” With this he shrugged slightly, pointing back up to the sky and tracing an imaginary line to explain a constellation.

Giving him your full attention, a smile painted its way over your lips, as you listened to him intently. Little did he know, he never really had to do much to impress you.

(Also, if anyone could teach me how to slow gifs down I’d be very thankful.)

~*~

You tossed restlessly in your bedroll, everyone around you in the women’s tent experiencing the most peaceful sleep, except for you of course. It’s not that you weren’t tired, you were of course, it had to be well past midnight after all. You just were having trouble quieting your mind, rolling flat onto your back you sighed deeply. Staring at the darkness that blanketed the inside of the tent.

Sitting up you looked around, making sure everyone was asleep before quietly tiptoeing out of the tent. Looking back one last time you shut the entrance flap, before making your way to the log that sat on the other side of the camp.

The cool air causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Instantly you wished you’d thought to bring your shawl or your blanket with you in order to stave off the cold. Daring to perch on an end of the log, you let out a gasp of surprise when it turned out to be wet. The sound echoing through the quiet atmosphere, making you hold your breath for a minute before standing back up.

A grimace covered your face before a quiet laugh escaped your throat at the ridiculousness of the situation. You shook your head, moving over to the glowing embers that were now the remnants of the once roaring fire that had danced in the makeshift pit situated in middle of the camp. Figuring it would still be somewhat warm you squatted down, settling on the edge of the pit.

It wasn’t as warm as it could be but it would suffice until you went back to the women’s tent. Staring softly at the orange and red embers your mind soon slowed down. Slowed down as much as possible before you were startled by someone coming up behind you. You barely heard them, had it not been so quiet you wouldn’t have heard them at all.

What if it’s a Roman?

Panicking, you stood and turned a bit too quickly, stumbling backward as you rocked abruptly on your heels, the only saving grace being the person’s hand grabbing onto your shoulder in order to steady you.

“Y/N, are you ok?”

Taking a minute to get your bearings, you rocked forward slightly on your toes before steadying yourself. You were embarrassed to say the least, especially after you saw that it was Simon. Your cheeks pink due to the epic blunder you’d just subjected him too. Exhaling, you nodded quickly as you smiled up at him, “I’m glad it’s you!”

The expression rushing out before you’d fully formulated what you wanted to say making your cheeks grow even redder and butterflies start up in your stomach. Simon on the other hand looked at you with slightly widened eyes for a second, smiling at you gently before squeezing your shoulder lightly. Your breath catching in your throat slightly, at this point he had to know how you felt about him. He was too perceptive not to.

“Let’s sit down.” Releasing your shoulder, he removed his cloak with a flourish, laying it on the ground for you to sit on. The chivalrous act making your heart melt slightly as he studied you carefully.

“You’re cold.” He mumbled, stoking the embers to get the fire going again, your eyes drawn to his muscles that moved in perfect sync under the sleeves of his tunic. Your face grew hot and you forced yourself to look away, thankful that you did before he turned around again. Fixing you with a friendly grin, he reached out to pluck a leaf out of your hair with gentle precision.

“It should start getting warmer now.” motioning to the fire in front of the two of you.

“How’d you know it was me out here?” Your eyebrows raising slightly in bewilderment as the question rolled off your tongue. His head cocked while he surveyed you, lips poised in a warm smile, “I heard someone moving around out here, so, I looked out the tent and saw that it was you.”

This surprised you even more, you’d tried to be quiet but you’d failed, with your mouth agape you gawked at him, eyes wide and unblinking causing a chuckle to leave his throat, “don’t worry, you weren’t being loud.”

“How’d you hear me then?”

“I have very keen senses.” He smiled at you, the affectionate look causing your stomach to drop and your cheeks to heat up.

“So, keen in fact…” he paused, his finger drawing an imaginary line across the sky, the line following a glistening silver streak, making your eyes light up as you gazed after it.

“It’s a shooting star.” He stated, watching you look at it with amazement still glistening in your eyes, “make a wish.”

“Simon, it’s beautiful.” The words a whisper, your eyes following it until it disappeared from view. Turning to see him grinning at you, you grinned back, “I wish I knew how you spot stuff so quickly.”

“Time and practice.” His voice almost lower than a whisper now and laced with embarrassment, “I’ve spent a lot of time outside at night…”

He was no doubt referring to his former days, too embarrassed to meet your eyes, a sight that made you frown a bit.

“But, that’s all behind you now, Jesus said that we’re no longer what we once were.” The words comforting him enough that he shot you a shy smile. You both sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. While he looked to be in thought, laughing at the yawn that left you.

“I think I’ll head in now.”

Nodding at you, he stood and offered you his hand to pull you up off the ground, your stomach dropping at the contact of his calloused palm against your skin. He smiled at you, watching as you walked a few steps toward the tent before whispering, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Simon.” The tired smile you gave him melting his heart as you entered the tent. Smiling softly to himself, he walked back to his own tent. Fingers laced behind his head as went, hoping one day he’d be able to work up the courage to tell you about his feelings for you.

Laying with your head on your husband’s arm that was positioned behind you, you both gazed up at the stars.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” You asked, cuddling up closer to James only to have his arm wrap around you tightly in an effort to shield you from the cold. His lips pressed gently onto your temple, the scruffiness of his beard tickling you slightly.

A laugh rose from your throat at the sensation, your head turned toward his, giving him a return peck on the cheek. His eyebrows raising at you slightly, before smiling over at you, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Not as beautiful as you, my heart.”

“James…” his name left your lips with a giggle, the soft blush that covered your cheeks melting his heart and making his smile widen as you snuggled closer to him. The sounds of the others laughing and joking around the fire just barely audible as the wind carried their voices toward you.

“I’m glad we were able to sneak away for a bit even though it’s cold, you’re a far better companion for looking at stars than John is.”

The shiver that raced its way through your body causing James to pull you even closer. Turning onto your stomach, you rested your chin on James’ chest, a coy grin making its way to your lips. The sight making him release a breathy laugh, “what?”

His fingers gently separating strands of your hair, while his dark eyes drank in the sight of you, obviously pleased with the jest that was poised on your lips.

“You did a lot of stargazing with John, did you?”

At this his brow furrowed slightly at you, as he fought off a smile, “In a manner of speaking.”

The mischievous glimmer in your eye forcing the smile onto his face, a throaty laugh escaping past his lips as he elaborated, “the stars are still out in the morning if you get up early enough, although, I don’t snuggle up to John like this.”

His arms giving you a tender squeeze in an effort to emphasize the word snuggle, eyes meeting yours with a warm affection glinting in them. Smiling at him, your fingers traced along the neck of his tunic before teasing, “you don’t snuggle up to Andrew or Simon either do you?”

A sour look crossed his face for a second, only to be replaced by a gentle smile as a playful tut left his lips, “especially not to them, not even for all the silver in the world.”

You laughed quietly, as his fingers tangled in the ends of you hair, “how fortunate for me to get all your cuddles.”

“How fortunate indeed.” He quipped, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, his heart swelling with tenderness and warmth as you curled into him more, your eyes looking back up at the sky with admiration as he glanced at you with equal parts love and awe.

#the chosen #the chosen fanfiction #the chosen x reader #big james x reader #simon the zealot x reader #philip x reader

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maycat-19-142 · 1 year

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Prince Philip lll falling for another ranger

A/n: you are the copper ranger

⚠️:Mentions of bombs, gender neutral reader

He was a prince and a power ranger when he was with the other rangers

Today he got a call saying he was needed on a mission

When he finally arrived he walk in to the base

His coat over his shoulder

He was a bit over dressed

He was get beefed on the mission when a yell came from the above ground entrance that no one used

"Can sometimes help me with these books" his eye tracked to you

You had baggy black jeans and a brown tank top

Him and kota grabbed the some of the books you were carrying

"Thanks" you said putting the books on a shelf that Kendall told you to

"And you might be" Philip asked

"Oh sorry you magisty" you said doing a half bow "I'm y/n copper ranger"

"Y/n" chase yelled. You walked off to see what he need leave philip were he was standing

The next time you talked was on the mission it self

You had to disarm a bomb placed by fury on the coast of the city

You had the dinosaur the nodosaur an extremely tought skinned dinosaur

You,Philip, and Kendall had to got down in a meg zurd combo with all 3 meg zurdz

In the end the bomb was disabled and you and Philip talked about thing in life and just got to know ow each other

It was fun for him to here about a normal life.

#pixie #pixie rants #fluff #x reader #fem reader #gn🌌#male reader #power rangers #power ranger dino fury #power rangers dino charge #power rangers dino #prince Philip lll #philip x reader fluff #philip x reader

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owlish-owlhouse · 1 year

Note

Can you do collector’s older sibling headcanons?

This kind of became a (Yandere) Philip X Reader along the way. Do with that what you will lmao, but yes Collectors your younger sibling and you care for them a lot

Your brother was trapped in the Inbetween Realm but you weren't. The Titan missed capturing you when your sibling pushed you out of the way and took your place in the Inbetween Prison instead. When the Titan was defeated you tried to free the Collector in every way you knew how but you couldn't. Not on your own. If you tried you would also become trapped and that wouldn't do either of you any good.

As the world around you begins to change and the Titan becomes a habitat for witches and demons you debate for several years if you should just get sucked into the Inbetween Realm with your brother. Because at least then you'd be together. You missed him so much, his hugs often lingering in your mind on the bad days. The way he'd jump into your arms after a game or when he wanted to be held. You'd press the disk against your chest cradling it close, despite Collector warning you not to incase you somehow got sucked in (you wouldn't unless you tried to free him but he worried). You told Collector maybe you should just get trapped as well but he responded with a firm no and that you weren't allowed and you promised to free him so you could be together again!!! Even if the two of you were together in the Inbetween it wasn't worth it! And it was breaking the promise! You just nodded holding the disk closer as you listened to your brother. You'd do whatever it took to free him, you pinkie swore as children to always protect him after all.

You didn't want to but you became desperate. You made a deal with Philip that he would free your brother when the time came. After all you needed someone who was flesh and blood to free him from his prison, as well as a titan or titans blood to lift the curse. Philip promised he could get you what you wanted in exchange for what he also wanted.

When you were eventually questioned by Philip on why you couldn't do it yourself since you were an all powerful being, you admitted If you pinkie swore with your brother and tried to pull him out of the mirror you'd either just switch places with no way to switch back or you'd both be stuck together. And you couldn't use your magic to force someone else to do it for you because that didn't work and resulted in either the Collector getting shocked when he tried to come out of the mirror or you getting burned by your own magic. Philip seemed to take an interest in that, writing it in his journal but you didn't care. As long as he filled out his end of the deal. You should have paid more attention in the early days.

Philip takes an interest in you rather quickly once the deals struck. After all a Star borne or a child of the stars is exceedingly rare and immensely powerful. Looking like humans but with celestial embellishments you more resemble him than a witch or demon. The fact that you and the Collector are siblings makes it even more fascinating to him because of his own brother that he rarely brings up. He has many questions for you and since your brother doesn't like those kinds of "games" he comes to you. He asks to study you as you work together and you don't mind sharing harmless things with him but are careful with what you say around him. Philip is a tricky man. You don't trust him as much as your brother does but without him you can't free the Collector so you remain silent about your doubts.

Although you're hesitant you do agree your star born form makes it hard to blend in so you chose a more witch like appearance. However as the years begin to pass, and you travel with Philip to get what he needs, you notice the longer you're in the false form the more witch-like you actually become. You're losing some of your abilities and powers in the process of hiding as a witch and gaining more empathy and sympathy for other living beings. You stop seeing them as play things and start seeing them as people. Emotions you possessed before but didn't quite understand like you do now come to the surface. You keep this to yourself and are careful to not let Philip notice any lost powers.

Collector asks you about it one day and you explain you just need to be more careful and practice more. Once he's released it won't matter anyways because your powers will come back ten fold. He agrees and both of you are none the wiser to Philip listening in and beginning to plot.

Collector gives Philip the knowledge he wants to gain. Ancient and powerful magic lost to the people of the Isles as well as the Draining Spell. Sadly while your brother freely gives away the spells you're the one forced to actually teach them, your brother too impatient to even try. Philip never seems to mind always liking your lessons together. After all your neither witch nor demon but a celestial body. In his eyes you're almost akin to an angel, albeit a fallen one. He begins to call you angel affectionately and you notice how it always makes your cheeks warm.

Your lessons become more touch orientated as time goes on and you begin to trust each other. You place your hands on top of Philips to guide him with magic. He also smiles at you more taking close note of what you're telling him. He always listens, something you are not used to. Sometimes his hands will wander when you should be focusing on lessons but you can't help but notice how gentle his touch is. How soft his hands are. It makes you start to feel new things and you never ask him to stop so he continues. You push these strange feelings aside and decide to focus on your goal, trying to lessen your time in your weaker form as you try to keep a grasp on your weakening powers.

You remember the First GrimWalker. You remember them all, but him specially. Hunter definitely looks the most like Philips fallen brother but the first one had a special place in your heart. After all as a child he was rambunctious and playful, reminding you of your brother. And as he grew you felt yourself growing too, learning to be a parent figure and guiding hand as he helped you and Philip with your goals. Celestial bodies such as yourself do not reproduce the same way organic beings do so you never thought it possible to have a child. You never realized you wanted one.

The first ten or so GrimWalkers knew your secret but after that they started becoming blurry faces that you refused to get attached too. After all Philip and Collector always broke their toys. Your brother would play mind games with them and suggest horrible things for Philip to do to them if they stepped out of line. You hated this sadistic side to them and tried to ignore it. Collector and Philip thought their pain was amusing, you had to hide how much it hurt you.

When you "sleep" you astral project to talk and play with your brother in the Inbetween. You know Collector misses you so and hate that he's imprisoned but you do everything you can to be with him and make sure he knows how much you love him. Philip knows better than to wake you during these times and leaves you to commune with your sibling. The Golden Guard is also never allowed in your room to give you privacy as you do this ritual. You play games all night together and although you can't touch you do your best to comfort him. You know he misses you and you assure him you miss him too. The Golden Guards could never replace him please stop breaking them. He's easily jealous and you're getting tired of remaking them every time he gets mad that they can touch/hold you.

You tell your brothers stories about what's going on in the outside world and show him magic tricks that he mimics in his shadow form. You always smile at him happy and he giggles having fun. You love hearing his laugh. Sometimes he'll ask you to do something and you try not to hide the pain in your face as you strain your powers. Being away from the sky and staying on a planet while pretending to be human/witch is putting a fee on your body.

As time goes on you aren't the only one experiencing physical changes to your form. You watch as Philip goes from a bearded brunette man with human features to a shaved older man with long dirty blonde hair and witch like attributes. His teeth sharpen, his ears point, and his eyes hold a gleam of magic only a witches can. And his palismen beast. As you struggle to maintain your abilities he struggles to control his newfound power. Both of you having separate fights you must face alone. Yet... you're never truly alone because of the other something you take an odd sort of comfort from.

Collector doesn't like his shadow form but he often contorts it and does various things with his 2D body to make you laugh. His favorite is when you play shadow puppets together!!! Maybe being a shadow has its perks because he always wins! He'll prank people with his shadow form and swipe items for you and Philip and sometimes even the GrimWalker. He can't touch you but smaller items like books or bags full of snails are tangible to him so he tries to help in any way he can. He wants to quicken the plan after all!!!

As centuries pass your feelings develop further and your mindset changes. You start to notice this little flutter in your chest when Philip is around. When he touches your shoulder or arm it sends sparks through you similar to cosmic energy. However, this only happens in your witch form. As a star borne your concept of emotions and feelings are different than a witches or humans. You are immortal, your mind is as vast as the cosmos. And yet... You are becoming something new, someone who feels deep emotions despite their connection with the stars. Witches would describe it as love but you wouldn't learn this for many years.

Philip tries to make his advancements subtle as he doesn't want to overwhelm you. But he comes to the conclusion that he may have to be more direct since you don't seem to understand. You never seem to push him away though and he notices the slight shivers you get when he touches you. He also observed that the longer you stay with him the more he sees you begin to lose your powers. He intends to take you with him to Earth as his forever partner after he betrays your brother. After all you're almost human. His saved fallen angel.

As Philip builds his empire you have to stay in your witch form more often to avoid the suspicion of others. Collector finally seems to notice your losing some of your abilities but only talks about it when you astral project in fear Philip will hear. You promise him it's fine but you both know it's a lie and that's only further proven when you refuse to pinkie swear to him. Collector promises only a little longer and you nod assuring him it'll all be okay.

When the Day of Unity comes you hate it. Hate Philips awful plan and the pain you're causing. Perhaps you've been disguising yourself as a mortal too long or perhaps you knew this wouldn't be a fun game. Empathy and sympathy haunting you as the Day of Unity loomed overhead. But you've become much weaker hiding as a witch all these years and you're willing to do anything for the return of your brother so he can restore your abilities and take you home to the stars. If this is truly what Philip wants this is what you both promised. A star borne never breaks a promise after all.

The Day of Unity comes and you close your eyes and allow Philip to teleport you away after his speech. The covenheads are left to be sacrifices and you hope that they somehow break the spell. You close your eyes thinking about all those innocent people suffering but ignore it. Four hundred years and it'd finally all be worth it.

When Philip goes to free your brother you've never felt such relief. You watch with a wide smile but than he drops your brothers disk and you've never felt such a deep betrayal or hurt. You turn around ready to kill him but then your magic burns you and you remember how you naively swore never to harm Philip. He may have broken his promise but as a star borne you are bound eternally to yours.

When he bends down infront of you, you close your eyes ready to die. After all Philip had done what few could, he tamed a Star borne. You were nothing more than a witch with powerful magic now. And that magic was powerless against him. Without your brother to return your true abilities Philip was stronger. You'd taught him too much. You were no longer immortal and he could now kill you.

"Come with me." Are not the words you were expecting to come out of this man's mouth. Looking up at his outstretched hand you wanted to take it. You wanted to go with him. You wanted to see this Earth he so lovingly spoke about. But you wanted your brother more.

"YOU'RE INSANE! YOU PROMISED!" The tears that flood your eyes are unlike anything you've ever felt. And for a moment you're truly not a star born but just a simple witch. You go to find your brother wanting to run down the cavern to him but Philips hand wraps around your waist trapping you against him.

"(Y/N)." His voice is soft as he speaks into the back of your neck. He looks at you as you turn to stare at him and you feel that weird feeling in your chest again. That flutter. "Come with me. Let's leave this infernal place. Let's start over." He begs.

"I can't my brother!" You state but he just hums.

"was locked away for a reason. You, you've changed. He never will." You shake your head crying and screaming but as Philip pulls you close spinning you to his chest you feel dizzy. Slumping in his arms weakly attempting to struggle he hums shushing you. He'd given you some of the potion you took to talk to your brother when astral projection was especially difficult. A sleeping drug that would knock you out for hours.

Eyes closing the last thing you see is Philip before everything goes black.

"Angel is safe, see? They're right here, just sleeping. Collector I..." You think you hear Philips voice calling out but everything is black and cold. Your head spins and you feel like you're dead. Your body refuses to move feeling too heavy and your eyes remain shut.

"You'll never hurt them again. You'll never take them from me! They're mine! My sibling!" Your brothers voice? Had Philip changed his mind? Had he freed your brother for you? Was it all a horrible prank or joke of sorts? Trying to wake up trying to listen it all fades back to black as you slowly slip back into unconsciousness.

When you wake it's on a mountain of soft pillows and fluffy blankets. Stuffed animals surrounding you and your head spins. Confused you shift in the soft objects only to pause as you hear bells jangling. As tiny hands wrap around you, you blink feeling more awake. Still dazed but coming to, you paused when you felt the familiar sensation. "... brother...?"

"It's me, I'm back! I'm FREE!!!" You start crying in relief and Collectors confused at the tears not understanding them. He touches your face trying to wipe them away and you just smile at him so happy and relieved to see him. Holding him close not ever wanting to let go you begin kissing his face before you pause. Where was Philip, where were you, what happened? "We're safe now. You're safe now." Collector promises as he sees you look around confused. He nuzzles close and you're left with an uneasy feeling as he says that.

"Philip...?" You ask softly only to see Collectors face get a look of pure rage as he bunches his hands in your clothes clinging to you.

"The bad man's gone now. He can't hurt you or me anymore." You go to question what Collector means by that. Question what he's done, but before you can he backs up and pulls on your arm. You feel energy run through you despite your previous tiredness and as he begins to float dragging you by your sleeve you chase after him. Your brother could be scary at times and you weren't back to full power yet but soon you would be. Enjoying the chase he suddenly stops and turns towards you holding out his pinkie. You almost run into him but are able to stop yourself in time. A serious look is on his face as he stares at you.

"Promise you'll never leave me?" He demands putting his pinkie in your face and you wonder how he could ask that. Four hundred years you stayed by his side, four hundred years and you had never left him. Holding out your pinkie he smiles as you link them together. "Good, now let's play!" Pulling at you, you follow him smiling the whole way. Even as a heavy weight filled your chest and a sense of dread set in you pushed those feelings away. Collector was right, you had him and your never leave him. Ever again.

(Little did you know he'd killed the only man you'd ever loved and was looking for Hunter to destroy him. He'd made the Isles his play place and other than keeping you happy in this fun little world he had a goal of hurting everyone who ever hurt you. He always did think you and the Golden Guard were too close and that if Philip remained alive was going to take you away from him. Now you could play forever!!! And maybe if you asked nicely he'd give you some of your powers back)

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