#phil x reader

Visiting your sister for Christmas every year was something that you dreaded and looked forward to in equal parts, both for the same reason: Phil Allen, your brother-in-law.

You looked forward to seeing him, because you were desperately in love with him.

You dreaded seeing him, because you were desperately in love with him.

You kept your visits to Keighley strictly once a year for this very reason. If you saw him more frequently, you might be tempted to do something very stupid. But if it was once a year, you could restrain yourself and spend the rest of the year yearning.

It was some cruel twist of fate which meant that you would never have met him if he wasn’t married to your sister. After all, your circles were completely separate. You had moved from Keighley as soon as you hit 18, and now you’d spent so long away that you’d lost your Yorkshire accent. And professionally, you were completely separate - he was a hairdresser, not just any hairdresser but a professional in the competitive hairdressing circuit, and your own career was far removed from his and Shelley’s.

So the only way you could have met Phil was through Shelley - at Christmas, in fact, when Shelley brought him around to meet the family before they got married a few months later. Phil was handsome, funny, confident; everything you wanted in a man. And he was engaged to your sister.

Christmas with Shelley, Phil and their son Brian was usually a lively affair, and this year, Phil and Shelley had invited their friend, and Phil’s model for their hairdressing competitions, Sandra, to stay for Christmas. Shelley had mentioned something about Sandra having fallen out with her parents, but she went into no further detail.

“There she is!” Phil announced with a grin when he opened the door to you a few days before the big day. “My favourite sister-in-law. Now Christmas can really get started!”

He scooped you up in a big hug, and you laughed as he picked you up from the ground slightly.

“I’m also your only sister-in-law,” you reminded him as he put you down.

“Yep, which means you’re my least favourite too. C’mon, get yourself inside, you’re letting all the warm air out. Brian! Come say ‘ello to your Auntie [Y/n]!”

Their teenage son, Brian, who was getting taller every year, came down the stairs to say a shy hello. He let you give him a hug, then slunk off to his room again.

“Kids,” Phil said with a roll of his eyes. “He won’t come out for nothin’ these days. You won’t see him again ‘til dinner now. Right - I’ll take your stuff up and get you a drink, you go have a sit down, love. Shelley’s in the living room with Sandra.”

When you entered the living room, your sister and her friend were sitting side-by-side on the three-seater sofa, whispering about something. Shelley looked up quickly as you entered, then smiled and stood up to give you a hug.

“Oh, there’s my elusive sister! How are you, love?”

“Honestly, Shell, I’m exhausted from the drive up here,” you replied. “Hell is the motorway at Christmas. This your friend, then?”

“Hiya, I’m Sandra,” said the friend, standing up to greet you. “It’s [Y/n], right? Hope you don’t mind my intruding on your Christmas this year.”

“‘Course not, the more the merrier! From what Shell says, you’re as much of her sister as I am.”

You didn’t notice the glance shared between the two women, because the door opened behind you, and Phil walked in with the largest glass of red wine he could pour.

“Crickey, Phil, you trying to get me drunk?” you laughed.

“What? Oh, nah, this is mine.” Phil grinned cheekily, then handed the glass to you. “Go on, it’s Christmas.”

“I won’t say no to that,” you replied, taking the glass gratefully from him before taking a seat on the sofa next to Shelley. Phil sat down in his usual armchair just to your right.

You had to be careful how much you drank at Christmas. Not enough, and you’d be too tense and self-conscious to enjoy yourself; too much, and you worried you’d do something really stupid. So you drank carefully, only accepting Phil’s offer of a refill when your last glass had been empty a while.

On Christmas Eve, you didn’t need Phil’s assistance to drink. You were ready to neck a whole bottle after that day’s events.

In the late afternoon, Phil was out getting some last-minute ingredients he’d forgotten to pick up, as was the norm for him. Brian was up in his room, blasting Nirvana on his CD player. Shelley was nowhere to be found.

Thinking you’d get some drinks ready for tomorrow, you made your way into the back garden, and opened the door to the shed.

You closed it almost immediately, your heart racing with shock, and you turned to leave quickly, but the damage was done. Shelley came running out of the shed, calling your name.

“[Y/n], wait! Wait, it’s not what it looks like!”

“Then what is it, Shell?!” you demanded, flabbergasted, turning on your heel to look at her. “‘Cause it sure looks to me like you were just eating Sandra’s face.”

“Shh, keep your voice down!” Shelley hissed, although with Phil out and Brian blasting his music, there was no one to hear. “Alright - alright, maybe it is what it looks like. But I can explain, okay?”

Sandra appeared then, cautiously stepping out from the shed, the guilty look on her face telling you everything you needed to know.

“God, this is bloody ridiculous,” you laughed incredulously. “All this time - I’ve been so careful - and yet here you are…”

You sighed and shook your head.

“How long’s this been going on, Shelley?”

“Only a few weeks.”

“Only! Bloody hell. What are you thinking?!”

“I know it’s wrong, I know! I can’t help it, [Y/n].” Shelley glanced at Sandra behind her, her pained expression softening, then looked back at you. “I just fell in love with her. Please, don’t - don’t tell Phil. We’re gonna tell him… after Christmas.”

“Is this why you fell out with your parents, Sandra?” you asked.

Sandra took a few tentative steps forward to join the conversation.

“It’s not ‘cause I fell in love with a married woman, if that’s what you mean.”

You nodded, understanding.

“They’re more worried that she’s a woman?”

Sandra nodded.

“Well, you know I don’t care about that part, Shell,” you told your sister. “I’d be just as mad if she was a bloke. True equality, that. But bringing her round here for Christmas knowing you’re gonna leave Phil for her’s one thing. But you couldn’t at least keep your hands off each other?”

The two women exchanged a guilty glance.

“You don’t know what it’s like, [Y/n],” Shelley said quietly. “Loving someone you can’t have… when they’re right there…”

You could have told her then. You were sorely tempted to tell her.

All these years, you’d kept your distance, done everything you could to hide your feelings for your sister’s husband, because as much as you loved him, you loved her more.

And here she was, giving in to her feelings for someone else with so little resistance.

It felt like an insult.

“I won’t tell Phil,” you conceded. “I won’t do you the service of ending your marriage for you.”

Shelley sighed with relief. “Thank you, [Y/n].”

“But when everything goes tits-up, don’t come crying to me,” you said firmly. “It doesn’t matter that you’re my sister. I won’t support you in breaking your husband’s heart.”

In the distance, you heard the sound of a car door slamming. Phil was home, and it was time for you to spend Christmas pretending everything was fine.

Fortunately, you were well-versed in that.

Three months later, the bell of Phil’s barbershop tinkled, announcing that someone had entered, but he didn’t look up from sweeping the floor.

“Sorry, forgot to lock the door. We’re closed.”

“Oi, I didn’t drive three hours for that attitude.”

Phil looked up suddenly, frowning.

“[Y/n]? What’re you doing ‘ere?”

You held up the bottle of wine that you were carrying.

“Thought you might need this.”

A few minutes later, Phil had fished out some wine glasses from a cupboard, and you were both now sitting in the back of the shop, you pouring the wine while Phil told you what had happened the day Shelley left him for Sandra.

“So now it’s just me and Brian,” he finished with a glum sigh, sinking back into his chair. “I won’t stop him seeing her, but I don’t want anything to do with her, or Sandra.”

“Phil… I’m really sorry. I never thought this was something Shelley would do.”

Phil shrugged. “Yeah, well, neither did I. Guess you never really know someone.” He look a swig from his glass, then looked at you with a frown. “Why’re you here comforting me, anyway? Shouldn’t you be with her?”

“Listen, I love Shelley. But being her sister doesn’t stop me knowing she’s in the wrong here. I know she couldn’t help falling in love with Sandra, but she could help carrying on an affair. She says she can’t help herself, but believe me, it’s entirely possible to resist someone you shouldn’t want. It’s bloody difficult, for sure… but it’s possible.”

Phil raised an eyebrow at you.

“Speaking from experience, are we?”

“I’m not here to talk about me,” you replied before taking a swig from your own glass. “I just… I want you to know, Phil… I’m here for you. Even if I’m three hours away, you only have to pick up the phone.”

Phil smiled, his tense demeanour relaxing a little.

“Thanks, [Y/n]. Means a lot to me, honest. I gotta admit - I was worried I’d not see you again now I’m divorcing your sister. Now you got no reason to visit, y’know?”

“Nah, it’ll take more than that for you to get rid of me,” you joked. “We’re mates, Phil. My sister’s terrible decisions ain’t getting in the way of that. I’m on your side.”

Phil smiled sadly.

“Most people are. It’s a small town, word gets around. When the wife leaves the husband for another woman, most people take the husband’s side. They come to me with a tirade about her - and I end up having to defend her, because I don’t want us to be the divorced parents who talk shit about each other.”

You took Phil’s hand in yours, gripping it firmly over the table.

“Ignore those people. They’re not really on your side. Maybe some of them are, the ones who are really your friends, but - the gossipers, they’re not with you, they’re just against her. ‘Cus she had an affair, ‘cus she’s gay, or both, whatever. But I promise you, Phil - I’m on your side.”

Phil looked at you searchingly, his soft hazel eyes boring into yours.

“Why?”

Because I’m in love with you.

That’s what you wanted to say. But you couldn’t, not now. Not when he was still so vulnerable. You didn’t want to be a vulture, swooping in when he was hurt to take your opportunity. Yes, you wanted to tell him, you wanted to be with him - but now wasn’t the time. He didn’t need a new relationship; he needed a friend. And you loved him enough to be whatever he needed you to be, even if you selfishly wanted more.

“Because I’m your friend, Phil,” you said, and it was true.

The rest could wait. One day, you’d tell him everything, but until then, you’d spend your days appreciating what you had, and your nights quietly wishing for more.

Phil smiled, and squeezed your hand.

“Thank you, [Y/n]. I’m glad I’ve not lost you.”

You practically raised Phil, and it shows with how similar the two of you act

You spent a lot of your life travelling, sometimes with friends and sometimes alone

So while you were off building bridges and meeting new people, Phil was slowly but surely accumulating a surplus of children and friends - biological, legal and emotional

You don't come to the SMP often, but when you do, his home gets progressively more crowded

First it was just him and Techno

Then Wilbur

Then Tommy and Tubbo

Then Ranboo and Michael

And now Niki drops by, too

You swear you've seen Jack and Fundy a couple times

Even Eret used to drop by every now and then when L'manberg was starting out

"Every time I come to visit, you've picked up more feral little shits." "I'm not trying to." "You're a bloody liability, honestly."

... Yeah

If you end up having children like he does, you'll never hear the end of it.

"Hypocritical if you ask me." "Piss off, at least I didn't pick up the founding fathers of a country and their partners."

oh my god

Can we stop pretending he wasn't a feral gremlin child

Tommy and the others had to pick it up off someone, and we all know it wasn't from Kristen

"Wilbur, did I ever tell you that your dad was a fucking psychotic child?" "... REALLY-"

As much as you love your nephews, you're not afraid to play favourites

It started when Tommy and Wilbur were younger, with you would casually say "if you did this, you'd be my favourite"

Over time, they'd get more and more competitive

You're their coolest relative that laughs when they do stupid shit, of course they want to be your favourite!

Little do they know, Tubbo is your favourite

But you won't tell them that

That ruins the fun!

Phil is your brother, you're always looking out for him

That's why when Tubbo put him under house arrest, you couldn't help but feel betrayed

You also broke him out, but that's not the point I'm trying to make

Technically, you're not part of the syndicate