Your Love (Deja Vu) [ch 2]
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Phil stores his sons during a fight, revealing his true nature to them. Caught up in the moment, he doesn't get a chance to explain to them and falls asleep. When he wakes up, they're inconsolable.
CW: - gore - minor character death - Phil eats people - hard vore - soft vore
title taken from 'Your Love (Deja Vu)' by Glass Animals but specifically the stripped back version because that makes me cry
word count: 1.7k 💔 read it on AO3
Phil wakes up with the sun on his face, covered in blood. That's never a good thing, but it's especially a not-good thing when one is a giant with adopted human children who doesn't immediately remember the previous day's events. He blinks dazedly at the sky, the taste of raw human still faint in his mouth and panics as the worst conclusion instantly plants itself in his mind.
His heart pounds and he sits up fast; worry, shame, and grief working their way into every nerve when the memories rush him like a flood.
Oh. Fuck.
At least I didn't digest my fucking kids, he thinks hysterically. He can feel them in his storage, huddled together and probably - no, definitely terrified.
Guilt curls unpleasantly in his gut, somewhere between the soldiers and his sons, and he squeezes his eyes shut.
"Boys?" He whispers. "Are you...?" He can't bring himself to finish the sentence - of course they're not okay, they're probably losing their minds.
He can feel them shift around. It's silent for agonizing seconds until there's a small, half whimpered, "Dad?" from inside.
His heart leaps, and then promptly crashes as he hears a whispered, "Tommy! Shut the fuck up - ! " accompanied by a struggling sensation in his storage.
He experimentally lays a hand across his midsection and gently rubs circles into his brood pouch. They jolt away from that part of the storage and press themselves into the opposing wall. Hot shame climbing his throat, he reluctantly stops.
"Hey, hey - it's okay, everything is okay," he gently murmurs to them, trying to imbue his words with as much love and reassurance as he can. "You're all safe; I would never do anything to - " he trails off guiltily. He's already hurt them. Pathetically, he finishes, "I love you. So, so much."
He slowly stands up, painfully aware of how his movements are affecting them.
They've never been in his brooding pouch before and this has been a horrible introduction. He never wanted to store them in the first place ( - a blatant lie. He had wanted this days into taking them in - ) and this has been exactly why. They see him as a monster now. They witnessed him massacre an army; thought for an entire night that their own father had eaten them - they waited that long to digest!
He breathes, trying to steady his rushing heartbeat. They can hear it, that's the nature of storage pouches, and he doesn't want them to know how scared he is.
"Give me ten minutes, okay? I'll bring you out soon." He speaks calmly, sounding more controlled than he is.
He doesn't have a giant toothbrush, he notes numbly. There's gristle and blood undoubtedly stuck in his teeth, and he knows without checking that his breath smells like meat and death. He stares at his hands in dismay; they're caked in flaking, dry blood. His clothes are ruined. He doesn't want them to see him like this.
A cruel voice in his brain reminds him that they already have.
He walks a steady pace to a nearby river - at his size, closer to a small stream - and begins to clean himself off. He got rid of all his giant sized clothes when he took in the kids, reasoning to himself that it would be more trouble than it was worth hiding them for a few decades when he spent nearly all his time pretending to be human anyway. He regrets that now, regarding his bloodstained shirt and jeans. He rinses his mouth - once, twice, six times - and does his best to brush and clean with his fingers and watery reflection. He picks a few bone fragments from his teeth and tosses them into the river, before remembering that the twins love to play there. He stares at the water in horror and hopes neither of them ever stumble across the remains.
Well fuck, he thinks to himself. There's nothing I can do about that now.
He takes another look at his reflection. Most of the blood is gone and his mouth is considerably better than before, but it's still - it's not good enough. It will never be good enough.
How gross is his mouth right now? He cleaned what he could, but what if there's still blood clinging to his teeth? They'll see it when he brings them back up. They've already seen it. They saw it after he'd just eaten twenty or thirty people, they thought that he was trying to do the same thing to them -
He inhales sharply and blinks back tears.
He's a monster. They see that now. He has to face the music.
He makes his way back to the cottage. He stops on his way there to stare at the blood soaked field his rampage had taken place. There are still bits and pieces of people lying on the field. He regards the sky, feeling numb. They're due for rainfall soon... and the local wildlife will scavenge the loose meat. There's nothing else to be done except hope that the kids don't come out to the field between now and whenever it looks less fucked up and bloody. He continues to the house.
When he arrives, he kneels before the front door and tries to muster the courage to speak with his kids. He stares at the house for longer than he should and he can feel them nervously stir in his gut.
"Boys?"
They don't respond. He hadn't really expected them to.
"I... You don't need to be scared of what's about to happen," he begins gently. "It'll feel like a pull. Don't resist, alright? It's - it's okay if you do, I understand if you do, but please try to relax."
He can feel them moving, standing up and shuffling about in a panicked kind of way, and before he can second guess himself, he starts to bring someone up.
The muscles in his storage clamp down around a figure, and the screaming starts. His heart pounds wildly and he has to fight himself to keep going. They're struggling - he thinks it's Techno - squirming and wriggling, which is bad enough on its own, but fighting too, punching and kicking back. He flinches at the sharp pain, his eyes starting to sting. The tissue lining his storage tube is soft and easily damaged (because normal parents don't terrify their children into tearing them apart from the inside), and whoever is coming up is determined not to make the journey easy. He goes quickly, unwilling to prolong this for either of them, and when they finally reach the top and tumble into his mouth, it's all he can do to not spit them into his hand. They taste like Technoblade, confirming his suspicion. Tech is still fighting, punching at any surface he can reach, and being particularly harsh with Phil's tongue.
He forces himself to go slowly now. He brings Techno to the front of his mouth and cups his hands at his chin. Before his mouth is even fully open, Techno is clawing his way out. He lands in Phil's hands and scrambles up, blinking dumbly at his father with a slight shake in his body.
Phil stares at him. "... Hello," he rasps out.
Technoblade snaps from his stupor, shrinking backwards only to flinch away as he hits Phil's curled fingers.
"Oh - okay, okay, I'm putting you down - I'm putting you down," he sets Techno in front of their door while stumbling over his words. He leans back, giving him space. "You - you should take a shower."
Techno never take his eyes off Phil, retreating slowly and grasping blindly for the doorknob. As soon as he finds it, he's gone, and Phil sighs defeatedly.
He massages his throat, wincing in pain. It'll bruise and possibly tear, but he knows he deserves it.
He clears his voice. "Tommy? Wilbur?"
They still.
"Your big brother is fine. Someone else needs to come up now," he explains tiredly. "Please, please don't squirm. That makes it more difficult for both of us."
He starts the process again. Something is very wrong. The lump coming up is too big, has too many limbs and - fuck. They're coming up together. His eyes widen as he realizes, but it's too late now, and he knows there's nothing he can do if this is what they want. They're hugging each other, which makes it harder to move or attack him, but his throat burns from the stretch of bringing up two of his brood at once.
They fall into his mouth, still clinging to teach other. They're silent but shaking and Phil feels a fresh wave of shame collapse over him. He brings them forward and opens his mouth, gently releasing them into his palm.
Wilbur holds Tommy in a vicelike grip, his eyes squeezed shut and Tommy's face buried in his chest.
Phil resists the urge to inspect them. He keep his fingers a respectful distance from the pair, knowing that any kind of touch is traumatic right now.
He clears his throat again, and feels how torn up it is. It burns when he speaks and his voice sounds like a creaking door. "You're okay... open your eyes."
It takes a few seconds but Wilbur peeks. He opens his eyes wider, in awe of the sky and nature, though his grip on Tommy never ceases.
Phil starts to move them to the porch but Tommy squeals and curls even more into Wilbur's arms, causing him to freeze instantly.
"Sorry. Sorry," he whispers. "I'm just putting you by the house. I - I'm sorry."
They're silent and still.
He starts to move again, painfully slow and tense.
He deposits them gently on the ground and as soon as he's a safe distance away, the door swings open and Technoblade grabs Tommy by the leg, literally dragging him through the door. Wilbur scrambles in after, falling over himself to get away from Phil. The door shuts with a resounding slam, and Phil can't help but flinch away from the noise.
He stares at the house for a few seconds before shrinking down into his human form. Thirty minutes later, he gets up the nerve to knock on the door.
~ ~ ~
i wrote like 4k words and then decided to cut off the second half and just save it for the next chapter so weee earlier post then planned
hope you enjoyed <3
