#fics i write

He is The Crowfather. The commune is his in everything except maybe name. And the price of his protection is that Phil can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, which includes visiting their resident human while he's recovering from his latest foolishness.

The Pube has a small infirmary near the back of the building, put there when they were all still building houses and the now-bar served as more of a community base. Normally, when somebody is injured or falls sick, they'd prefer to recover in their own home. But Techno is somewhat of an exception. Everybody has an invested interest in keeping an eye on him, and Phil suspects Techno doesn't exactly mind the attention.

He finds the human on a bed back there, fast asleep. It does cross Phil's mind to leave him be, but only for a moment.

He clears his throat loud enough for Techno to startle awake, and tries not to enjoy the human squirming a little bit at the image he makes, wings spread out and blocking the door, his expression one of light disapproval. Techno grins, the guilty sort of grin that implies he knows exactly why Phil came by.

"Hey, uh, what's up, Phil?"

Phil relishes in the way Techno's voice wavers just the slightest amount, unsure where this encounter will go.

"How are you feeling?" Phil asks.

"Fine," Techno says quickly. And when Phil takes a step forward, he buckles immediately. "Better now that I've taken a nap."

"Oh, I bet. Heard you got in a little over your head with Schlatt earlier."

Techno purses his lips, seemingly annoyed that Phil is saying this. Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? If Techno doesn't want to be chided like a petulant child, he shouldn't behave like one.

"He already apologized," Techno says. "So don't get mad at him, I was practically asking for it."

Phil blinks down at him while slowly, his smile grows. "I'm well aware. That's why I'm here, getting mad at you instead."

And Techno does hunch in on himself a little at those words, scowling. Phil would feel guilty if he didn't enjoy it too damn much.

Still, he tucks his wings closer to his back, and crosses the rest of the distance to sit on the bed, allowing Techno to relax. He's not looking for that sort of play today. No use in hunting prey that can't run away, either.

"Mad and concerned," Phil says. "You're sure you're good?"

"Scott checked me out," Techno says. "I'm fine, really. Tired, feeling shaky until the poison wears off. But fine. Learned my lesson, too. Don't agitate the spider hybrid during sex."

"Pity, since you're so very good at that," Phil says.

"Agitating people?" Techno asks, amused.

"That too," Phil admits.

Techno levels him with a look. "Very funny."

"I know." The elytrian puts his hand down, onto Techno's leg. He pushes then, keeping it pinned while his touch travels upwards. "All the same, I wouldn't be a good leader of this commune if I didn't do my due diligence and checked you out myself."

Techno's hand grabs his wrist, and Phil stops, only because he's feeling nice. Though he knows from experience how laughably easy it is to overpower their human. "Phil," Techno says, pleads really. And he's looking at Phil so adorably, like he actually thinks the big blue eye act is going to work. "Do you have to? I'm tired."

Phil tilts his head, pretending to consider it. But then he moves forward, and Techno does angle his chin to the side, only exhaling shakily when Phil's lips meet the skin of his neck.

He's lived in the commune for three years now. He knows exactly what's expected of him.

"I have to," Phil says, hand moving again. Techno is already hard. Hypocrite.

"Okay," Techno breathes, hips bucking up a little in search of friction. "Then I can sleep some more?"

so... I’m thinking tomorrow...

mel/frank | ∼500 words | rated g | actors au ↳ for day fourteen: picture of the august @kingdonmicrofic challenge

I love your writing! Thanks for sharing it!!

Eddie’s breath tickles the side of Buck’s face when Eddie leans in to whisper, “I bet they think I’m whispering something dirty to you right now.”

A giggle escapes Buck’s lips before he thinks of pressing them together to muffle the sound. He can feel his already red cheeks —it’s a warm LA night, he’s been goofily dancing around for hours, and he’s already on his fourth drink— flushing even deeper, the color probably visible from Jupiter, Saturn, or some planet even further away than those. Like Pluto, even.

“Your blush is probably making them think it’s something really dirty,” Eddie keeps whispering, his words a hot breeze against Buck’s ear.

“Eddie,” Buck complains, pushing against Eddie’s shoulder in chastisement. Or well, Buck tries to complain. And he tries to push against Eddie’s shoulder. Really, what he does is more similar to whining Eddie’s name and brushing his fingertips against Eddie’s shoulder before he loses his balance a little, tripping over nothing and needing Eddie to wrap his arms around his waist to hold his weight up when Buck slumps against him.

“Oh, now they totally think we’re planning on finding some dark corner where we can have sex,” Eddie says, his lips buried against Buck’s neck, his words practically bitten into Buck’s jugular.

“Maybe we should.” Buck nuzzles his nose against Eddie’s shoulder, taking a deep inhale and letting the smell of Eddie’s good cologne wrap around every one of his cells.

“No, that isn’t how we’re having our first time,” Eddie says, pulling back from Buck’s neck so he can look him in the eye. One of his arms has untangled from Buck’s torso so he can use it to point his index finger at him. Maybe it’s supposed to be a warning, but Buck takes it as an invitation to lean forward and bite it. Unfortunately, his reflexes aren’t at their best, so he ends up just biting the air when Eddie moves his hand away from him.

“It would hardly be our first time.”

Eddie rolls his eyes used the same tantalizing finger to bop Buck on the nose. “You know what I mean, idiot. Our first time as a married couple.”

Married couple.

The two words send a shiver down Buck’s spine that has him lightly trembling in Eddie’s arms. The arm around Buck’s waist tightens minutely as Eddie’s other arm hand settles against the side of Buck’s face, his thumb resting on Buck’s bottom lip.

“Married couple,” Buck says, awe and incredulity and joy and giddiness and affection dripping from his voice.

Eddie taps his thumb against Buck’s bottom lip once.

“Married couple,” he echoes, awe and incredulity and joy and giddiness and affection dripping from his voice as well.

Buck has been dreaming about this day for so long —before he even truly consciously knew he was dreaming about it— that he’s a little bit afraid this is still part of that fantasy. That the whole ceremony —the walk down the aisle next to Maddie, hearing Bobby’s speeches as he officiated for them, exchanging their vows—, and the celebration —letting Chris be the one to cut the cake, performing the ridiculous dance they practiced for months in front of everyone, receiving so many hugs mixed with congratulations— have just been a figment of Buck’s overactive imagination. Perhaps a second go at a coma dream.

“We’re married,” Eddie says, using his grip on Buck’s face to bring it forth, resting their foreheads together.

And well, if Buck is dreaming, he couldn’t care less as long as no one ever wakes him up. He’ll be asleep forever and ever. They can give him some kind of cool nickname about it, like Snoozing Handsome. Or el Apuesto Mr. Siestas.

Unable to resist for one second longer, Buck crashes his mouth against Eddie’s. It’s not a very elegant move but it’s effective, as it gets Buck’s tongue in Eddie’s mouth and Eddie’s tongue in his.

Cheers erupt all around them. Boos also erupt all around them. Buck relishes in both, feeling just as loved hearing the rejoicing as he does suffering through the teasing.

Way too soon, Eddie pulls away from the kiss, but he does not go far. He pulls Buck closer, hugging him so tightly it feels like he’s trying to fit his ribs in between Buck’s own.

Turning his head just an inch, Eddie whispers in Buck’s ear, “I love you so fucking much.”

Buck giggles, his heart doing somersaults inside his chest.

buck/eddie | 10k | rated e | 5 + 1, fluff and smut, clipboard! buck | for the @bratbuckbash

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Buck asks, tapping his thumbs against the front of the clipboard. He’s not nervous, necessarily, but this is the first time all day that it’s been just him and Eddie, and the weight of that settles over Buck making breathing harder. Eddie’s eyes are glued to Buck’s moving thumbs, to the clipboard he’s holding. He stays silent and silent and silent. “Eddie?” Buck calls, and this makes Eddie shake his head and finally move his gaze away from Buck’s hands and his clipboard to meet Buck’s eyes. “What?” Eddie mumbles, like he’s waking up from a haze. “I was saying that you don’t need to help me with this,” Buck says lightly waving the clipboard in front of him. “But I want to,” Eddie says, and it sounds resounding and unequivocal. “I want to.” Buck takes a deep breathe and says, “Okay, then let’s do this.” (or 5 times Buck suspects just how much Eddie likes seeing him with a clipboard and one time he knows for sure.)