#psychicmoth

Rated M (Smut, inner dialog, established relationship, drabble) 780 words

This ficlet was inspired by this breathtaking piece of art by @psychicmoth

Read on AO3

You don’t know it but sometimes while you sleep, I trace my finger along your back and over your shoulders connecting the freckles into imaginary constellations. Maybe in a past life I was lost at sea, adrift alone in choppy waters and these are the stars that guided me home. In every life, I’ve found you and followed you home, the path illuminated by the light in your eyes and the lightness of your spirit. But I don’t believe in any of that, souls and past lives are fairytale nonsense. I don’t believe in god either but the word slips from my tongue often enough. God, Phil. Always paired with your name, just so we’re clear who the worship is really for.

🎉🎉🎉

here are all my @pinofanimate 2 clips 📽️

» watch a HQ version on youtube [here]

» & watch the final project [here]

@psychicmoth posted yet another incredibly beautiful piece of art and I wrote a little drabble inspired by it. So here’s a moment in the kitchen, inspired by this heartbreakingly sweet drawing.

Phil stands in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Dan busy himself with the toaster, humming something Phil doesn't recognize. His hair looks so floofy when he first gets up. The light from the window is playing in the curls that flip up off of his crown. “Morning.” Phil says and he shuffles over to kiss Dan’s shoulder, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

“Good morning sunshine.” Dan sets the butter knife he was using aside and pulls the French press a little closer.

“You’re the only one I’d let butter my toast.” Phil says and his hands smooth over the soft dewy skin of Dan’s belly, feeling their way into an embrace.

“Is that a euphemism?” Dan laughs softly.

“Yes.” Phil says and his lips press to the crook of Dan’s neck. He watches over Dan’s shoulder as he presses the plunger into the pot, pushing the grounds to the bottom and sending the glorious aroma of fresh coffee swirling into the air. It blends in perfect harmony with the perfume under Phil’s nose. It’s the only scent better than the smell of coffee or white chocolate or the jasmine vine in their garden when it blooms. He couldn’t describe it if you asked but it’s comfort to him, it calls him close, makes his skin tingle with want. It tells him he’s in the right place, he chose the right one, it’s home. Dan says it’s just chemistry and Phil says, exactly, you’re meant for me.

“Come back to bed and do that thing again.” Phil says, his voice still raspy with sleep.

“What thing?” Dan carefully fills one mug and then the other, grey for him, filled to the top, white for Phil with room for cream and copious sugar.

“That thing you did last night, that new thing.” Phil slides his hand lower and stretches his pinky to reach under the elastic of Dan’s pants. Idly, he pets the sparse, soft hairs there, feeling them sway under his finger.

“You’re insatiable.” Dan chides but he’s smiling. “I guess breakfast in bed sounds pretty good.”

Phandom Big Bang 2017!

Art for Freeze and Thaw by @souverian-are-we ☆

Late 1870s America, Phil Lester is a young schoolteacher who moves onto the family farm of hardworking homesteader Dan Howell. From the moment they meet, their animosity towards each other starts to bloom. Yet, as seasons change, is it possible that their hearts could as well?