#btvs fluff

[noceurstars]

”Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.”

Rupert Giles x Witch! Younger! Reader

You and the Scoobies try to have a normal Thanksgiving. Try, anyway.

[ w — age gap (20+ years), older man/younger woman, injured! reader, assumed unrequited love, short story, tv show-compliant only, slight canon divergence ]

— divider cred: @/inklore

Living above the Hellmouth meant that nothing would ever be normal. No holidays, no birthdays would ever be like the average person’s.

Thanksgiving and Christmas was the same. Monsters and creatures of the dark never took days off, not with their insatiable need to be evil.

Buffy sighed as she staked what was probably the 20th vampire of the night. Thanksgiving was a time to sit down with friends and family, having a lovely, large dinner and being thankful for the people in your life and the things you had.

But not for the Scoobies.

You huffed, rolling your sore shoulder. A vampire had taken a good chunk out of of your neck, but the second he tasted your blood, he instantly revolted, and you took a stake to his heart.

“You good?” Buffy asks, eyeballing your shoulder.

“Yeah.” But you hiss a little as pain flares through it. “It’s just gonna take a minute to heal. I’ll put some bandaids on it when we get back.”

Buffy cheerily and knowingly chips in a, “I’m sure Giles would disapprove.” That prompts you to give her a deadpan look.

“You know that he doesn’t like me like that,” you reply. You shove your hands into your pockets. “It’s a one-way street. Can we talk about something else?”

She shrugs. “Sure.”

The two of you walked side by side out of the graveyard. Buffy sighs, tilting her head down.

“I really wish Christmas could be normal,” she admits. “I miss it, from when I was a kid. It’s so much different from now.”

“Not as involved with monsters, you mean?” you say, and Buffy nods in confirmation. “Yeah, me too. I feel so… apathetic about it anymore. It doesn’t feel as important, as fun as it used to be.”

“Cons of being apart of the supernatural world,” she adds.

“Truly.” You laugh. “Not to mention—” A scream rips from your throat. Cold heat washes through you and up your spine, all the way up to your skull. Your head jolts back at the pain, and the cold heat leaves as the wooden stake leaves your body, now replaced by odd, liquid warmth.

Oh, you’re bleeding. Bleeding out, perhaps.

You heard the slaps and thuds of fighting as you fall to the ground. You try to have some semblance of control as you collapse in pain, but it doesn’t work. You bump your head into a headstone and more liquid oozes down your skin.

You hear the familiar hissing sound of dust. Buffy’s won. Now you see her over you, terror and fear written all over her features.

“[Name]? [Name]? You with me?”

You gulp, attempting to focus and swallow down the pain. “Kinda,” you hiss.

“Healing magic? Can it fix this?” she inquires hurriedly.

“Probably,” you reply, becoming more and more breathless.

“I’m gonna put pressure on it, okay? The second you feel any sort of clarity, start chanting.”

You let out a loud cry of pain, more blood coming out and staining your shirt. The pain signals the adrenaline in your body. It takes you a couple seconds longer than what you hope before you start chanting in Latin.

It feels strange, your body stitching itself back together. The strange feeling of blood coming out of your body disappears. You huff, the chant ending a minute later. Buffy takes her hands off the wound and you watch her examine it.

“How’s it look?”

“Looks good, head wound is gone, too,” she says. “But we need to get you back to the Magic Box. Giles and Willow might have something they can help you brew up to get you fully healed.”

You lean up using your elbows and hands. You take Buffy’s hand and let out groan of pain as you get to your feet. You two walk out of the graveyard and head to the Magic Box. You thank God it’s dark and no one can see you and your best friend walk through the streets of Sunnydale with her holding you up.

The Magic Box comes into sight not ten minutes later. Buffy uses her key to open the door, but neither of you expect to see the floor of the Magic Box completely cleared out, with a large, decorated table filled to the brim with food and drinks.

Xander is the first to turn his head up and see you and Buffy.

“Happy Thanksgiving, you guys!” he says.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Xander,” you speak breathlessly. And that’s when he knows something is wrong. His eyes trail down to your bloodied shirt and widen drastically.

“Oh, crap.”

“Oh, crap is right.” Buffy sets you down in one of the nearest chairs. “Get the others and tell them [Name] needs a healing potion… or some sort of healing magic. The wound isn’t as bad as it looks, but she needs help crossing the finish line.”

“On it.”

Xander heads to the back to get the others, who come rushing in not a moment after he gets them.

Unfortunately for you, all you can focus on through one eye (the other squinted in pain) is Giles, and the look of worry and concern on his face.

“She’s very pale,” Giles says. His voice is clearly worried. It almost seems borderline… terrified?

“Blood loss,” you say in a shakily exhale. “Healed, yes. Blood back inside the body? Not so much.”

“Can you do anything, Giles?” Buffy asks.

“Let me see the wound and we’ll see.”

You raise your shirt, showing off the nasty scar. It’s not fully healed, maybe three-quarters. You look away, eyes meeting Buffy’s, who’s expression is borderline teasing and full of amusement. You roll yours in return.

“Nothing out of my capabilities I can’t heal,” Giles says. He looks up at you and adds, “But I do have to touch it to heal it.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine.” The second Giles places his hand on the injury though, a large wave of nausea makes you shudder and groan.

“She looks like she needs a trash can,” Xander pipes.

“I’ll get one,” Anya offers, disappearing behind the counter momentarily to grab one. She places it next to you and you thank her.

Giles’ warm hand leaves your lower torso. The wound is completely healed, although you still feel faint from the blood loss. He looks at you again, scanning over your sick expression.

“I’ll be fine in a bit,” you tell, a smile appearing on your face. “I think some food in my stomach would do me some good. Thank you, Giles.”

“You are most welcome,” he replies, standing. “And I think you are absolutely correct. Shall we eat?”

Buffy nods and speaks for everyone’s hungry stomachs. “We shall.”

Dawn sits between you and Buffy. Xander, Anya, and Dawn are on the other side of the table. At the head of the table, between Xander and Buffy, is Giles. Just like a father should be, you think, humored.

“So… What happened? How’d you get such a wound?” Willow asks.

You and Buffy answer in unison: “Vampires.”

“Thought we were done and one caught us by surprise with one of the stakes,” Buffy explains. “[Name] used her magic, but she couldn’t heal it all the way.”

“Glad you both made it back,” Xander said happily. “This Thanksgiving dinner we put together would’ve been a total bust.”

Everyone laughs in agreement and digs into the food. Unknowingly to you, Giles can barely keep his eyes off of you, only looking away to take a bite of food off of his plate. Though he does try to it make it obvious.

Indeed, he’s glad you made it back. He’s glad he’s able to heal your injuries. Life would certainly be a lot more dull without you around.

But as Anya hands you the gravy, you catch Giles staring at you out of your peripheral vision. There’s a look on his face, one you know well, because it’s the same one Spike gives Buffy when she’s not looking.

You smile and raise your glass in a toast. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.”

Everyone raises their glass cheerily, downing a swig.

You thank this Thanksgiving for giving you hope. Even if it doesn’t last.

[nicollekidman]

late s5-early s6 “firmly best friends but would individually vehemently deny that fact for vastly different reasons if asked” spuffy 🥰🥰🥰

[evieelyzabethh]

Hey can u do a spike smut

I have another Spike smut fic coming so I'm gonna use this to drop my sfw and nsfw Spike headcannons because fun fact, the buffy brain rot is real and I have over 100 pages of buffy reboot material. anyways...

warning: not proofread

sfw:

Spike purely smokes because he thinks it makes him look cool. I think when it comes to vampires, they either physically cannot feel the effects of drugs or are lightweights. He hates the smell of smoke, hence the duster jacket, and refuses to smoke in his crypt because of the shit ventilation

Speaking of smoking, William was most definitely asthmatic. He had no friends in boys school because too much physical movement sent him wheezing. He did enjoy horseback riding though

He has poetry stashed somewhere, I just know it. Under some slab of rock or rolled in some random alcohol bottle pirate style, it's somewhere.

Spike would love an English major or anyone who has a hobby aligned with creative writing. This doesn't mean he'd automatically show you anything he's written but he'd be more open to the possibility sooner rather than later.

Very picky with what he steals/wears. He will not just put any old rags on. He dressed Drusilla and he is a fashion icon and I stand by that

As for him with a partner, I do think he is the type to fall first and incredibly hard

I think how familiar you are with one another would dictate a lot. If you were a Scooby, I wouldn't say he'd keep his distance, but he wouldn't be super outright with his affection. There'd be some playful banter here and there, dare I say some flirting, and maybe even some gift-giving every now and again. He's like a crow, he'd be the type to drop things on your windowsill just because it reminded him of you

If you two didn't know each other, he'd most definitely be the stalking type. Every time you're walking home from school, there WILL be a dark figure following you around. You're getting harassed by some rando? If you paid attention to the newspaper, you'd see they mysteriously went missing. You can go from eyeing something while window shopping to it magically ending up on your doorstep

Never the one to make the first move. He wouldn't say a word unless he was 100% confident that you liked him back, and even then, there'd be a lot of hesitation

He would love a forward partner. Someone who makes his insecurities melt away and who he doesn't have to worry about them ever getting over him. When he loves, he loves forever. He has all of time to love you and his ideal partner would be someone who wants to spend all of time with him

He is such a romantic!!! I think he would be so into matching couples costumes or just matching outfits in general. Super into domesticity wherever he can get it, decorating a home together, cleaning together, cooking together, doing anything together

Since he can't have a job, I do see him being a house husband. It gives him something to do during the day. Wears a 'kiss the cook' apron and pouts if you don't give him kisses while wearing it. I headcannon that he spent time all over Europe, including France, and had some really good pastries at some cafe that closed like 200 years ago and made it his life's mission to recreate them. The grocery bill is high but it makes him happy

Valentine's Day is his absolute favorite holiday and he makes a big deal of outdoing himself every year. Not in terms of money or extravagance, but meaning. He treats every day as a new one to know more about you. It's not enough to know your favorite color, he needs to know the exact shade, exact hue, and exact context you love it in. He knows your allergies, remembers your favorite outfits, and keeps track of your cleaning habits so he can make everything shiny and new when you forget yourself. He becomes a master of all trades to make you whatever you want exactly how you want it

He does really like Halloween, too. He's a huge fan of the Scream movies. He dislikes when horror movies try too hard. Being so used to gore, blood, and guts, he prefers a funnier, more unserious scary movie

Speaking of blood, he starts out against drinking from you. He used to only do it to kill someone, or at least with the intent to cause harm. He didn't trust himself not to get overwhelmed and hurt you. But I feel like at some point he either gets hurt on patrol or his stash gets low and you both forgot to restock and he has to. It was a very close call, and he couldn't bring himself to even look at you after the fact. He only warms up to it if it's necessary. He avoids it, but there are always slip-ups. He has bitten you during sex a few times when he got a bit too into it. He says he refuses to do it unless it's for your pleasure

He is so obsessed with you, if you couldn't tell. You're his favorite person, favorite scent, favorite taste. Not to be slightly yandere on main, but he would kill for you and kill himself if he wasn't enough for you. Never leave you. Never hurt you. Spike would never.

nsfw:

He is neither an ass or tits guy, he's just a 'you' guy. Absolutely everything about you gets him going. You think it's funny at first until you're trying to eat a bowl of spaghetti and he's staring at you, hard. It's not his fault the stray sauce around your lips looked like blood and vampire you is a very hot concept to him

You guys have to own a house. The noise complaints would be too much and you'd get evicted. I do see him as more of a groaner than a moaner, but sometimes it's just too much and it's both. Sometimes it's just one hand gripping the pillow your head is resting on, the other on the headboard, and his head in the crook of your neck practically whimpering as you milk his cock

You also have a tendency to get pretty loud, and as much as he loves your voice, his super vampire hearing can't take it sometimes :(

Doesn't really matter the position, but it's hard and he's so big. You can feel him in your damn ribs and it's choking you up. You don't even realize how loud you are. It's not until you hear his raspy voice in your ear. "I know, love, I know. It's a lot, but I need you to be a bit quieter. You're hurting me." And you pout a bit and try to mumble apologies that just sound like gibberish. You try, futilely, but surely he must understand that you can't help it. Not when it's this good. He whispers again, rubs where your belly bulges from his dick, but it doesn't seem to work. He eventually flips you over to shove your head in the pillows and you were far too out of it to complain. You like it a bit rough anyway.

As mentioned previously, he is a biter. He can't help it, it's instinct honestly. Its not like you mind, you clench even harder when he does. The sudden smell of iron is drowned out by the stench of sex and sweat, and the piercing feel of his fangs into your neck only stings for a bit. He makes up for it by licking up whatever spills <3 Being with a vampire was always going to be at least a little painful

He likes his hair pulled. You're fingers in his hair in general is heaven on earth, but being pulled around a bit is nice

Has a thing for tearing your clothes off. He really does like being a vampire, feeling big and strong in a way he was never able to when he was human. There is a feral piece of him, maybe its the demon inside him or it was always present, but seeing your clothes in pieces after the fact just scratches the itch in his brain

Speaking of brain, enjoys giving and receiving head equally. Being absolutely obsessed with you, and very secretly obsessed with the taste of your blood, he could die happily with your cum on his lips. Between your legs is his favorite place for real. As for receiving, it's his favorite way of shutting you up in any scenario.

Bruises. Everywhere. Hickeys. Everywhere. He's possessive but not exactly an exhibitionist, they end up along your collarbones and your thighs. Places where they can easily be hidden or revealed

Plays old music because he's old. He refuses to use modern technology because he likes his old as dirt aesthetic but definitely plays sexy orchestral music. I simply do not believe him to be an RnB kinda guy

He likes seeing you in his clothes after!! Going back to the whole love for domesticity thing, it just feels right. He's, shockingly, not always a horny fuck in the morning. Sometimes it feels more right to just look at you, the pretty after sex glow on your face, your messy hair, your cheeks pressed into the pillow. If you get up before him and put on what he had on the night before, it just completes the picture.

When he is a horny fuck in the morning, it's still just as soft and slow as the non-sexual mornings. He likes to be the big spoon simply because it's easier to slide his dick between your thighs and hold your tits at the same time

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Finding Peace Pt.9: Home (Spike x Y/N)

Requested: No. Part 9 of the Multi Fic.

Summary: A house is not a home if the right people don't live in it. Sacrifices may have rewards but they also have consequences.

TW: None

Word count: 2.3k

Previous | Next

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The night air was crisp. The walk from the school to your house was tranquil. The sounds of the night filling the silence between you and Spike. You made sure to hold his hand as you walked. As if he had forgotten his way back to your house. The breeze played with your hair filling the space with your scent. Spike took deep breaths committing every note to memory.

"Home sweet home." You say as you open the door to your house.

Spike walks in, confused and lost.

You watch him attentively. You take in his figure, the slope of his jaw, the new light in his eyes.

"You remember my house, right?" You ask, concerned.

He nods. He hasn't spoken a word since you left the school. You worry but choose not to bring up his odd behavior. Maybe he needed some food, some rest and some space. All things you could provide.

"You can stay on my pull out couch. Are you hungry?" You work on the bed to make it more comfortable for him.

"Yes." He says absentmindedly.

You clear your throat to get his attention. He shifts his gaze onto you, sitting on the pull-out bed, inviting him with your eyes.

"Organic or animal?" You ask.

"Organic?" He questions.

You point to your neck. "I trust you."

His face contorts, his stomach hurts, he's at odds with himself. He desires to touch you but not like this. This is too much. He fights the urge to run. Here is where he belongs. Here is safe.

"Animal, please." He says gruffly.

You frown slightly but oblige. You wanted closeness but this was definitely not the way to get it. Was he still putting distance between you two? Would he rather be with Buffy?

You bring him a tall glass with animal blood in it. He takes the glass, hands shaking. You hold his hands as he holds the glass. Helping him steady his hold. You both look up and make eye contact. You give him a small smile. Spike fights the urge to run, again. He doesn't deserve your care. He's a monster. He's done so much, yet, he stays.

You walk away to give him space. You walk into your room to find spare clothes that you had from a previous fling.

You walk back to Spike and offer him the clothes, "You need a shower. It'll make you feel better. This is all I have. We can get more of your clothes tomorrow from the crypt."

He mirrors your earlier gesture and places his hands on yours. He needs your warmth. Your reassurance. You smile again as you make eye contact.

He mindlessly trails into the bathroom. You can hear the shower turn on. You sit on the pull-out bed waiting for him.

Spike walks out, jeans on and no shirt. You forget to breathe. Chiseled muscles outline his pecks and stomach. A figure made of marble.

"You're all set for bed." You sound much more chipper than you intended to. You'd be lying if you said that you didn't miss having Spike in your home.

He nods. He walks up to you as you get up. You stand in front of each other awkwardly. He closes the space between you by hugging you. You're taken aback by his sudden movement. Slowly, you return the hug, taking in all that he has to offer. He holds you for dear life. His life line. The reason why he made the choice he made. You remind yourself to breathe, to take him in. You remind yourself that this is as far as you can have him, and you choose to not dwell in your own sadness.

Spike holds you for what seems like an eternity. His body lovingly pressed against yours. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. He slowly lets go but stays close. His face inches from yours. You fight the urge to kiss him. To finally give into your desire.

"Thank you." He says and then lets go.

You stand there a hot mess. "You're we-welcome." You stammer still taken aback by his gesture.

This version of Spike was so new to you. So gentle and fragile. What happened to him? Where did he go and what did they do to him?

You slowly walk out of the living room into your room. You quickly change into your pajamas and lay in bed. Sleep doesn't take hold until the early hours of the morning. Tossing and turning wondering if he even wanted to be here.

The next morning is full of songs from birds. The sun is warm and welcoming. You jolt up remembering Spike can't be near the sun and you couldn’t remember if you closed the blinds. You run to your living room to see Spike dead asleep. The curtains are closed. A sigh of relief.

You watch him sleep. He looks so innocent, so tranquil, so handsome. You feel tempted to touch him, and you give in.

You crouch down by his face. You slowly ghost your fingers over his cheekbones, and his jaw, committing this side of him to memory. You watch over him, lovingly.

"Lose some' in', pet?" He says with his eyes still closed.

A blush paints over your cheeks and you giggle. "I was just admiring the view."

He opens his eyes and meets your probing gaze. He slowly, deliberately, smiles up at you.

"Careful, you might fall in love." He teased.

Your heart skipped a beat. If only he knew.

You sigh, "it's a risk I’m willing to take." You say playfully.

You stand to walk away as Spike's hand wraps around your wrist. You gasp.

"Sit." He says and pats the mattress space next to him.

You smile and sit by his side. You enjoy this side of Spike. Domestic. Calm. Sweet.

"Wha' are our plans for today, love?"

"Whatever you want. I don't have to patrol until night fall."

He bites his lower lip, thinking. He wants to spend time with you but doesn't know if you'll want to spend time with him. He has so much doubt. He doesn't remember being this person. There's so much fear, and so much confusion.

"Stay with me?" He whispers.

You smile wholeheartedly. "That's the plan."

He sighs in relief. He sits up, hair a mess, torso naked. You take him in, hoping this is your new normal.

You both agree to eat breakfast and watch tv. The rest of the day is spent in front of the tv. A safe topic. No questions about where he went and what he did. Just domestic bliss. Comfort at its finest. You reminded yourself to give him space. To let him land before his next big jump. He enjoyed being present with you. To be seen and not just perceived.

The sun sets. The night takes on a life of its own. A soft breeze caresses the trees and homes. You start getting ready to patrol.

"I'll be back in a few." You call out to Spike who was in the kitchen.

"You sure as hell ain' goin' without me." He shows up at your room's doorway.

You're taken aback by his response. "You need to rest. I've got this."

He rolls his eyes at you, "I'm goin’."

You decide it’s best to not argue with him. You both make it out your house down to the cemetery. You both sit around waiting for trouble, but nothing comes your way.

"Bloody slayer, doin' her job." He mutters.

You laugh. "That's a good thing." You get up and dust off your pants. "Let's call it quits. We've been out here for hours."

He agrees. You walk together back to your house. You and Spike walk back in silence. Your new normal. You crave to ask him all of the things, to know everything but you opt for comfortable silence.

"Did you receive my note?" He asks, breaking the silence.

You look up, startled. "Yes." You whisper.

Silence.

He stops. You stop with him. You turn to him finding his blue eyes with yours.

"Did you wait for me?"

"Everyday."

He walks closer to you. He places his left hand on your left cheek, reminding himself of how you feel. You close your eyes; it feels like home.

Rumbling can be heard close by. It interrupts your moment as you notice two rogue vampires running up to you and Spike.

Spike wastes no time launching at them. You hesitate before you attack the vampires, helping Spike. Spike is aggressive and focused. He disposes of vampire #1 easily. You on the other hand were struggling with vampire #2. You look at Spike for help. Spike doesn't hesitate and jumps in, and easily disposes of the second vampire.

"What happened?" Spike asks.

"Did you forgef? I can't kill vampires." You say sheepishly.

Spike is dumbfounded. How could've he had forgotten?

"I'm sorry, pet. Can you explain it again?"

"So, I got cursed because I killed the lover of a powerful witch. The lover of the witch was, you guessed it, a vampire. So now I have to live forever but can't kill vampires. So, I'm doomed to walk the earth with my enemy, for eternity." You say rapidly and take a very deep breath when you're done.

Spike stands there dumbfounded. Why is there so much lore to you? Then it occurred to him that you had never tried to kill him.... because you can't. Here he thought it was because you didn't hate him like all the rest. He makes a mental note to further process this new situation at a later date.

He sighs. "Let's just go home." He reaches for your hand.

You were confused at what he meant by 'home', until he started guiding you back to your house. It warmed your heart that he would call your small and humble house his home.

Once you reach your house you take turns showering to get ready for bed.

"Thank you, for helping me, and not judging my less than slayer limitations." You say as you turn off the light to the living room where Spike was getting ready to go to bed.

In blinding speed Spike pulls you into his lap as he sits on the bed. Your back is against his chest. His arms around your mid-section. His head tucked between your neck.

"You’re perfect." He whispers against your skin.

You take a deep breath. You revel in his touch. You place your hands on top of his. You wonder how close can you fly towards the sun before you get burnt.

You turn to him, adjusting yourself on his lap. He sucks in a sharp breath at the friction of your movements. You place your left hand on his cheek while holding eye contact. He leans his face into your touch and closes his eyes.

"Where did you go?" You ask.

Spike sighs, eyes still closed. "To find my light."

"And?"

"It burns inside me." He opens his eyes to meet your gaze.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You note the change in his eyes. The transformation of his demeanor. Something happened but you didn't know what. You were too afraid for a clarification on what he meant.

"It's best if you rest." You say.

You feel his hold tighten. He shifts his lap under you. An invitation? You can't. Not now.

"I'll see you when you wake up." You lean in and kiss his nose.

He basks in your affection, hungry for more. He reluctantly lets you go. You step away from his embrace and exit the room.

Sleep doesn't come easy to you. As you lay in your bed you wonder what he meant about finding his light. You felt foolish wondering if it was about Buffy. The thought of him still pining over her made you jealous, unsettled, sad. You struggle to find rest. Suddenly, you hear loud yelling coming from the living room. Spike.

You quickly enter the living room to find him tossing and turning in his sleep. You intervene and wake him up. He wakes up mid scream. You hold him as he gasps for air. You soothe him by running your hand down his back. He holds onto you for dear life.

"Breathe." You encourage him.

His breath is shallow and labored. As if he'd been fighting in his sleep. He starts regaining control over himself.

"What happened?"

Spike doesn't answer. He is disheveled and wild eyed. You continue to soothe him until he is able to speak.

"Can I stay with you?" He asks, almost pleading. The equivalent of a child asking for guidance. "Just for tonight?"

You nod and grab his hand. You guide him to your room, making sure he is settled on one side of the bed before you get in with him.

You lay there with him. No movement is made for awhile. You explore this change in atmosphere.

"Do you want me to hold you?" You venture.

Silence.

"No."

Silence.

"Can I hold you?" He asks craving to have you near. To make sure you're real.

You inch your body closer to him. You lay your head on his chest as he snakes an arm around you.

You take in the scent of his naked skin, the lack of a heartbeat, the care in which he holds you.

"Spike" you hesitate.

Silence

"What did you really get?"

"What you told me I needed." He spoke, groggily as he fell asleep.

You laid there still at a loss. Your brain was a jumble of answers. You take in the moment because you didn't know how long it would last. As you drift into sleep it hits you... a soul. He went and got a soul.

Spike made the choice that he believed would serve him the best. He knew that he could never be whole as he was. He could crave but never have what he wanted the most. Sacrifices needed to be made. However, he never factored in the torment his choice would bring for him. He simply saw the light at the end of the tunnel and hoped that you would be waiting for him at the end of it.

[spuffybaby]

Time to Heal (3)

chapter links: (1) (2) (4) (5) (6) (7)

The sun was tickling her face through the blinds and Buffy turned her back to the window, yet felt the throbbing in her head which she'd expected to be much worse to have gone almost completely. She touched the bandages and they were dry, did not feel crusty or soaked. In the night, she'd pulled herself up from the sofa and gone up into her bedroom. She closed her eyes again, lay there for a minute and wondering if she could go back to sleep when it hit her. Spike. He was here.

She sat up, a throbbing, pulsing pain shooting through her head from the swift movement. Her hand flew to her head, pressing against the wound. A glance at the clock on her bedside table told her that Dawn would have already left for school. She pushed the covers from her body and tried to rise slowly, pulling on a pair of loose cotton trousers and a burgundy sweater. She went quietly down the hallway and to the mirror, her head still pulsing. Soon, she'd tied up her hair to the best of her ability with the bandage, and taken a couple of painkillers. The events of the night were coming back to her and she realised she'd been too out of it to be sensible, grateful Dawn had done her job. She recalled herself campaigning to let Spike roam free around the house. She'd been foolish. She'd let hope get the best of her and been reckless.

On her way down the stairs, she could smell Dawn had made some kind of breakfast and she was met with a defrosted chocolate croissant sat on the top of the kitchen island, taking it happily as her stomach rumbled. While the basement had been her destination, she now hesitated as she approached the stairs. Maybe she hadn't been reckless after all. Maybe she'd dreamed it all. Not the wound, but maybe all around it. When she reached the bottom step, she expected the basement to be empty.

“Hello, sunshine.”

He was sat at the bottom end of the mattress to avoid the light that shone in through the small window above him. He was in a dark grey t-shirt and dark blue jeans, black boots. She hadn't seen his coat upstairs where he'd taken it off the night before, but then, she hadn't allowed herself to look on the way down. The gel in his hair had loosened and his eyes looked tired. His back was against the wall, his skin smooth, his jaw sharp, the expression neutral, the hint of a smile, though hesitant. He was Spike.

“That's not a compliment from you.”

The smile grew less hesitant. “I meant it as one.” He didn't move, just watched her.

“Why?”

He huffed, shaking his head and lowering his gaze. But he lifted it into hers again before he spoke. “Why d'you think?”

Buffy swallowed, walking a few steps further into the room, then coming to a stop in the middle of it. “I don't know,” she said quietly. “It's been months.”

“Months,” he repeated, a tone of mockery in his voice, as if the concept was beneath him, absurd. “When did I ever give you the impression that the way I love would just pass within a few months?”

It wasn't Spike. It was mocking her. There was no way that she'd moved through life during the last few months and so had he, or maybe hadn't, and they'd paused and were now playing again. Except maybe, he had. There was the usual poetry to his choice of words that contrasted so beautifully the leather and bleach and possessive and protective exterior.

“I suppose you didn't,” she said.

“Damn right, Slayer.”

She dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I don't really know what to say,” she confessed.

His expression softened. “How's your head?”

“Better,” she said.

“Had some chocolate?” he smiled, had of course smelled her breakfast.

“Dawn left me a croissant,” she nodded. “She's at school now.” Slowly, she started approaching him. “Thank you for last night.”

“Just like old times, eh?” he asked, his eyes grew more watchful as she leaned over him to undo the restraints, then watching him rub his wrists.

“I don't know about that,” she said quietly, though could not help but think of when they'd gone patrolling together, and how he'd had her back then, the same way he still had the night before. “It's just... I don't know. You just showing up here after you... died. It's strange. But I suppose there's no right way to... show back up.”

“You'd know.”

She glanced up at him as she stood straight. “I suppose.” For a moment, she contemplated just going back upstairs, because she was undeniably overwhelmed, but she refused to leave him. Instead, she sat next to him, the sun meeting the back of her head. “Will you tell me what happened?” She leaned back against the wall by his side, though not quite close enough to touch him.

He blinked back at her. “Are you sure?”

Buffy nodded, staying silent, waiting.

He licked his lips and then he began to tell her, how he'd appeared right in front of Angel of all people less than three weeks after he'd died in Sunnydale, no time having passed for him. He told her how he'd been a ghost for months, how he'd haunted Angel, attempted to have his body and failed. He explained about the amulet, that it had somehow preserved him, it seemed, that he had come out of it once it'd mysteriously been sent to Angel. He told her how he'd finally gained his body back a different way.

Buffy listened, could barely remember a time in which she'd let him speak for this long, in which anyone had, the only moment she could think of being when he'd told her about killing the two Slayers. All that seemed like a lifetime ago. The man who had told her those stories had already outgrown the murderer of the Slayers, but the man that sat in front of her now was someone else entirely.

“That was last week,” he concluded. “I only stopped being a ghost last week.”

“How did you find me?”

“Through Angel. He's been keeping tabs on you,” he told her. “But he wouldn't let me contact you or, well, contact you for me before I could do it myself. And I hated that I couldn't come to let you know I was alive because I was bound to the amulet there. I was powerless. But trust me when I say that the first thing I wanted to do was come to you.” He paused, seemingly catching up with his own words only then. “I mean... oh, hell, I did. No time had passed for me. It was the day after you said you felt the same way about that night in that house that I did. That there was something to be said about after the battle. Seeing you now... it feels like no time has passed still. But for you... I'm still such a jerk. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” she said quickly. “You did everything you could in your power. It's not your fault,” she assured him.

He gave her a small smile. “Have you not... I mean, have you moved on? Thinking I was gone?”

Instantly, Buffy lowered her gaze. She looked at her hands, fidgeting, unsure of what to say. Yes, time had passed, yes, she'd thought he was gone, but ultimately, her feelings had not changed. She had been well aware that she should put them to rest, that nothing would come of them and that she had to accept his death and move on. But that didn't mean she'd done so. If anything, in living with just Dawn, she'd realised that she'd always been able to count on Spike. And she regretted so much that that realisation had come mostly in his absence. Since Dawn had stayed with him, she'd taken him for granted. She'd never thanked him the way she should have for watching her during those months after she'd died. Even after, she'd been able to count on him, with Dawn, and to stand by her always. Only when he was no longer there, she'd realised how much she'd relied on him. With any new bit of information, any new development in the weeks before the battle, filling Spike in had seemed like the priority without her even noticing. While leading the Slayers, she'd discussed and regrouped with him more than anyone else, before meetings and practice and patrols and after, she'd checked in with Spike. He'd been her ally, her partner, and she'd never worried for a second that he would stab her in the back or abandon her in her leadership. And yet, he'd set her mind straight when following her after the others had cast her out, had pushed her to do the right thing when she hadn't been able to.

Should she have moved on in the face of his death? Yes. Had she?

“I'm not sure.”

He waited, letting her gather her thoughts.

She could barely believe how much she'd missed just seeing his face, only now she appreciated it, held so much disappointment in herself with how much she'd taken him for granted. Was there even a way to come back from that for her? “I wanted to see where things went after the battle,” she confessed. “I really did. I thought we had time. I trusted... the process.”

“Yeah?”

Buffy nodded. “I'm sorry.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Buffy, for what?”

“Everything.” She shrugged, still avoiding his eyes. “I took you for granted, Spike. I used you as my punching bag, figuratively and literally. I ridiculed you when I shouldn't have. Even after you got your soul, my behaviour towards you didn't change the way it should have.”

He shook his head. “No, love,” he said. “None of that could ever compare to what I tried to do to you.”

She stopped him. “I don't know,” she said.

“It's what made me go and get my soul. I realised that I was not the man you deserved, that I could not come close because I couldn't understand why I did it when I knew how i felt about you. I will never forgive myself and I will never ever stop making up for it. Hell, Buffy, I wish every day I could take it back. I'm so glad you stopped me. I never should have tried and I'd like to say I wouldn't have kept pushing. But I was a monster then. I'm not worthy of you now. And yet, before the battle, I let myself hope.”

Buffy turned her head, her eyes meeting his. “And now? Do you still hope?”

It was him who averted her gaze then, looking up. “Bloody hell, get a fella a drink first, will you?” he chuckled.

She smiled to herself, remembered how much she enjoyed seeing him squirm, but also the honesty he'd allowed her to see that night, as well as the fear that if he made himself vulnerable, she'd rip into him.

This was no time to be a coward. “I do,” he said, lifting his gaze. “I can't lie to you, pet. Like I said, it feels like no time has passed. I held you and you held me and I don't think I ever felt more comfortable. All those months without a body, I longed to go back to those nights. I do now still.” He closed his eyes. “But I still feel as I did then. I love you for who you are, not because I desire you. Time has passed for you with a much different reality. No matter how you feel, Buffy, I'm still yours. I'd do anything for you.”

His words felt surreal, like maybe she still hadn't fully regained consciousness after last night's attack. It's like all the time that had passed had been taken out between the night before the battle and the moment right before her. She hadn't realised how she'd longed to hear him say it again. Only shortly before his death, she'd begun to appreciate them, the poetic promises, a devotion she had never experienced from anyone else. “How?” she whispered.

He opened his eyes. “How?” he questioned.

“How can you feel like that and be so in control of yourself?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Trust me, pet, 's not easy.”

“But?”

“But I want you to feel at ease. I want you to trust me that I will never do anything again that you don't want. I respect that things are different for you.”

“They aren't.” The words rushed from her mouth before she could sign them off in her brain. “I mean, I should have moved on and not held on to you. But I did.” She nodded confidently at her statement. “I did.”

He blinked in disbelief. “You held on to me?”

“Every day. After what you told me, I knew there was no pressure, and that's how I behaved. If only I'd known.” She stopped herself, tears forming in her eyes.

Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, though freezing as he realised, ready to withdraw, but her head sank down slowly on his shoulder. “Hey, hey, love, it doesn't matter,” he said, the softness in his voice so familiar, but she was experiencing it in such a different way now, appreciative, comforted. “'m here now.”

His hand was rubbing her arm and he pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I wish you'd believed me,” she whispered. “All this time, it's haunted me.”

“What d'you mean?”

“At the Hellmouth,” she said. “I've thought every single day since... you died without believing me.”

He was silent for a moment, then realised. “Oh.”

“I meant it.” It felt strange, pressing play as if the last few months had been nothing but a dream, a cruel outdrawn interlude, a conversation they'd have had had he left Sunnydale behind with them on the school bus.

“Not to be that guy, but... how could you mean it? After everything? Sure I've hoped, but I never truly expected-”

“Stop,” she said. “Stop it.”

“Buffy, I'm not being funny, I-”

“Shut up, Spike.” She looked up at him. “You saved the world. You saved the Slayer that saved the world many times. No one has stood by me the way that you have. No one's made the bad fade away for me the way you have. No one's loved me the way you have. For me. How could I not?” He was comfort and he smelled like it, felt like it, she wanted to stay as close as she was. “You got a soul. For me. You wanted to be good, you are good. For me.”

He swallowed hard, his hands trembling and she took them into hers as soon as she realised. She then shuffled onto her side to lie down, pulling him down with her, relaxing into him instantly when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her in, her back pressed to his chest, his face against her neck. He really was holding her.

“You think I'm good?” His voice was merely a whisper of disbelief.

She squeezed his hand, closing her eyes. Her head was still pounding and she knew now she could really rest, overcome with fatigue. “I know you are,” she said quietly, absently pressing a kiss to one of his fingers, the cold metal of his ring against her lips for a moment. “You're a good man, Spike.”

[chubbyreaderchan]

So when I was a kid my parents would kiss each other good bye three times for luck and they told me it represented 'health, wealth, and happiness' and like... Just doing that with your fav.

That's all.

[sapphistically]

stealing kisses

read on ao3 | masterlist/s

description: you and buffy end up sleeping in the same bed and sharing not one, but two kisses.

relationship: buffy summers & fem!reader

a/n: anyways so reader is kinda a part of the while gang, we have Xander x Anya mentioned and Willow x Tara mentioned! Not sure if I ever implied the reader in female, though that was in my mind when writing this.

wc: 1,174

You and the gang haven’t been that close lately, everyone was busy with their own stuff, so Buffy eventually decided to take matters into her own hands and with some help from Willow, they threw a sleepover at Buffy’s house.

All was well, until it was time to go to sleep, Tara and Willow took their bedroom, Dawn slept in her room, Xander and Anya took the living room and you were left with no place to sleep in. Heading back home was a dumb idea considering how late it was and the fact that you drank a beer or two and the alcohol has not left your system.

The alcohol was what probably caused Buffy’s suggestion, you felt sober immediately when you heard her proposition, but you agreed, as there was really no point in fighting and there was no other solution.

There you were, in her room, which you’ve seen many times, still now it felt… different. You changed into your pyjamas, a pair of shorts and a bra, as it was hot outside. Buffy walked in, her hair down, to her shoulders, her face now clean, with no makeup on. She was already in her pyjamas, which were adorable, it was a matching light pink, pastel like set.

“I swear there was an extra mattress.” She grunted as she sat down on the bed, clearly upset as she cane back empty handed.

“It’s okay…”

Was it really though? Where would you sleep, in her bed? Not that you’d complain…

“No, it’s not, this whole night it’s just— not right.” She covered her face with her hands as she sat there, so distraught, you truly wished you could do anything to help her out, but you had no idea how.

You sat next to her, her sheets were fluffy, the mattress slightly bending below when you sat, you placed your hand on Buffy’s back as you gently rubbed it, the silk material of her pyjamas sending a shiver down your spine.

“I can just, take the floor,” you smiled lightly at her, you really didn’t mind, as long as you didn’t have to share a room with either of the couples, especially Xander and Anya, “All I need is a blanket, really.” You tried to be more reassuring, your voice definitely played the part, the smile on your face making it sound more cheerful.

“No… Maybe I take the floor, you’re the guest.”

She looked at you, moving her hands down to her knees as she let out a long sight, your eyes scanned her face, her skin was so smooth, there were light blueish eye bags under her eyes, her lips moved into a thin line.

You just sat there for a moment, her staring at you, you staring at her, a sudden knock on the door caught you by surprise, you immediately jumped up and away from Buffy, who got up to open the door.

“Hey, we just.. wanted to say goodnight…” You heard Willow on the other side of the door, Buffy replied with a simple goodnight and after so did you.

After a good minute of debating back and forth it was settled, you were to sleep together, Buffy was the host and obviously was tired, so she deserved to sleep in her own bed.

You were a guest, Buffy thought it was wrong to make you sleep on the floor, especially on the cold wood with no mattress underneath.

You settled in the bed and once Buffy got in it, a shiver went down your spine, your heart immediately sped up, especially when her leg brushed against yours. You felt a pang in your heart when she moved it away with a whisper, “Sorry”.

She turned the light off and you turned your back to her.

You faced the window, your eyes traced the tree outside of it.

You tried to close your eyes, to count sheep or do math in your head, but nothing helped you fall asleep. Buffy’s breathing was irregular, jagged, as her back faced yours and her mind wondered to all sorts of thoughts… about you.

“Hey, you asleep?” You whispered in the dark, the only light was that of the moon.

“No…” She whispered back.

You could feel the mattress sagging under her as she moved, which made you move.

You two were face to face now, inches away, your eyes drifted to trace ber features, not caring that she could see it. You watched the rays of moon as they shined on her face, she was so beautiful.

Buffy’s demeanour was now more stoic, her lips were parted with a little shine on them, in form of a lip balm, her hair was messy from shifting around on the pillow, her eye bags were less visible in this light and her eyes… oh those eyes.

Her eyes traveled on your face, exploring the depth of it, every shadow casted on it and every light, her gaze lingered on your face, as if she was trying to always remember you, how you looked in this moment.

God.

Why was she so… perfect?

You gulped the saliva down your throat, as you blinked rapidly, before moving closer to her.

You felt your heart, pounding in your chest, faster and louder the closer you got to her.

Bum, bum, bum, bum.

The rhythmic sound of it was deafening in the silence of the night.

“Can I…” You let out a whisper, a whimper almost in a pleading tone.

“Y-Yeah…” Her voice was just as shaky as yours.

Buffy could feel the heat building in her stomach, the way she burned for your lips, your touch, for you. She burned for you. She couldn’t see herself in that moment, but considering how hot she was, she could guess her cheeks were flushed, she was almost shaking, the mix of excitement and anxiety were taking away her ability to think straight.

Your lips met hers, yours were more harsh, her were soft, softer than one could imagine and tasted like marshmallows, but that was probably just her lip balm. The kiss was shy at first, your lips gently grazed hers and hers grazed yours.

You never wanted it to end, the feeling of her lips on yours, her hand on your hip, her warm breath ticking your cheek. It was like the whole world disappeared, all you could smell was her, all you thought about was her, all you could feel was her and the butterflies flying in your belly.

Buffy pulled away, she kept close to you still, her eyes looked from one of your eyes to the other, her breathing continued to be chaotic, even more that before, she looked into your eyes, like she needed something, she wanted more, a conformation it was fine.

You were melting just looking at her, feeling her, smelling her…

She smiled lightly as she kissed you again, this time with more confidence, she pulled you in, grasping your hip harder, she never wanted to let you go.

[sawyerconfort]

i could be your girl, but would you love me if i ruled the world? | faith lehane x fem!reader

I'M BACK!

It's been so long, isn't it?

Anyway, life got so busy I couldn't even breathe this year.

But it's October, it's Halloween and it's BTVS SEASON!

Honestly, I've been obsessed with all the Buffyverse these days, and, honestly, I couldn't end Halloween and October without writing something about Faith.

So, that's why this blog is back, for one day.

No, requests are still closed. Sorry!

ENJOY!

(I just wanted to thank the two edits of Faith from Tik Tok that I saw with this song and that gave me the idea for this oneshot, last. Enjoy now!)

-----------------------

PROMPT: Nothing much, just you, a complete, bitter, hard-hearted, closed-minded slob falling in love with another bitter, hard-hearted, closed-minded slob - and just a little bit of a sense of humor.

***

Ah, the Bronze.

You went there whenever you needed to clear your head. Sunnydale was the calmest town in the world to live in, especially when you were a teenager in the throes of puberty and adrenaline, looking for nothing more than peace and quiet.

You went to the Bronze when you needed to breathe, which was almost always, even in a small and peaceful town like Sunnydale.

Aside from the problems with your parents, your house that seemed too small for someone as big as you, and your terrible grades in school, everything was going pretty well. You intimidated people enough, even in the small and cramped bar, to keep them far enough away from you, and you just looked for a table away from the crowd of colors and couples and smells and sensations to light a cigarette and put your feet up.

"A Mai Tai, Ricky, please," you would say, almost always, swearing that it would be your first and only glass until Ricky came with two, three more.

And then you lit a cigarette before heading home. And you avoided looking at the dance floor, or standing in line for the bathroom because you knew there were women and men looking right at you.

And you hated to reciprocate. You hated to think about the possibility of winning someone's heart in one night, and vice versa.

It was like that every night.

Except that one.

***

That story about vampires, dangerous creatures, vampire Slayers, it was all a lie. It couldn't be true. Adults believed it because it suited them, because they were legends spread from generation to generation.

But you were already a teenager. You were too old to even believe in Santa Claus, why believe in bloodsucking monsters that went after people? And in a girl who could, in fact, kill them all and save the day for at least… a hundred years?

It didn't make any sense. Those things didn't exist. At least, they shouldn't have.

And if they did, well, they didn't interfere with your quiet nighttime routine. Going to Bronze. Drinking a Mai Tai. Smoking like a troubled girl. It was the best thing in the world. No vampire could stop that.

But she could. And you just didn't know it when you noticed her doing her best on the dance floor, wrapping her arms around one of the girls sitting down and moving her hands awkwardly, all while drinking something you couldn't make out.

When you wrapped your arm around the chair and put the straw in your mouth to suck the last drop of Mai Tai, she looked at you. And her eyes kind of took you over completely, as if it were an electronic song with a strong beat that made your ears throb. Too bad it was only for two seconds. Because you looked away.

Your agreements with yourself were always the same. Don't get carried away, don't get attached, don't kill yourself. Just rebel, and live in the moment.

And you would do that, if it weren't for those curious eyes, from across the dance floor. Small, brown, with no sign of eyeliner. She wasn't a rebel, but that kind of troubled girl…

That style also took you over completely. You had to admit that the moment you noticed that little black blouse showing parts of her waist against the light and that shiny belt, she won your heart completely. Or almost completely.

Because you couldn't let yourself get carried away. First deal.

It was kind of impossible, because she was practically crawling towards you. As if your gaze had taken her in completely, too. She came in stealthy steps, while you tried to decide if she looked like a snake, a wolf or a fox in search of prey.

But since it was her nature to do that, the girl simply walked right past the table where you were and started chatting with a couple at the other table, next to yours, all the while with the glass swinging in her hand. A Mai Tai. Exactly like yours.

It wasn't on purpose. It was just a coincidence because you had just arrived. And you hadn't seen each other yet. She also didn't seem to be stalking you or anything like that, because, in truth, when your eyes met for the first time, the look she gave you was pure curiosity, and, unless she knew how to hide it well, you had never run into each other, not even in a small and peaceful town like Sunnydale.

You would know if she was stalking you. And maybe she was stalking you now, pretending to be sly, but not before.

Her gaze drifted to you when the two teenagers at the next table frowned at her exaggerated gestures, and you noticed that those eyes were browner than usual. And that you clearly weren't prepared for them.

"Drinking twin," she said innocently, looking down at her half-empty glass. There was a huskiness in her voice that you weren't prepared for either. Not that you expected a high-pitched, bad-girl-dressed preppy girl, but… whatever. Enough thinking about what you expected.

"Is that how you usually start a conversation with someone?" you asked, obviously making fun. And according to her personality, which you had built up in your head, she wouldn't be offended. And she wasn't.

She just laughed, muffled. And her white teeth took your breath away when they showed. Because she had a damn beautiful smile.

"You got me there," she whispered, raising her glass, but she didn't seem surprised, and she was still laughing. "I don't know how to start a conversation with someone, it's true. But in my defense, I also didn't know there was a formula, an instruction manual for starting a conversation with someone…"

"There isn't," you replied shortly. "And I'm not complaining. I was just surprised that you…"

You shrugged. Wow, what the hell happened to your train of thought just now?

"Okay, I get it. It's okay. I really think that was a stupid conversation starter, if you ask me…", she said, catching you off guard again. With her fingers running along the edge of the chair next to you, she looked at you curiously, pulling the chair back. "Can I?"

One of those classic cases where you couldn't say no. It would be too rude. And you were tough, but not to that extent. A little company wouldn't hurt. For one night.

Don't get attached. Rule number two. Shit.

Nodding, you lowered your head and sucked the rest of your Mai Tai, while she obviously didn't wait for a full answer and sat down next to you, positioning the glass so that it was practically glued to yours, or at least in the same field of vision.

"So, are you going to at least let me ask your name or are you going to say that my attempt at conversation is equally stupid too?", she asked, straight and direct, exactly as you imagined. And as you didn't expect.

"It's (Y\N). Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so rude if it did," you said, your voice low. She laughed in response, and shook her head. "And yours? Can I at least ask?"

"Lehane. Faith Lehane," she said, all enigmatic, and obviously, you knew it was supposed to make you really curious. And she was lucky that it really did. "You can ask anything, you just won't be guaranteed an answer."

You laughed. Damn, she really knew how to charm a girl. Or a person, anyway. You couldn't tell.

"I just came to Sunnydale, actually. Not that it interests you, but… I was looking for a less chaotic city. Until I found out that this place has vampires too. So, I guess I can start packing my bags and be a nomad again."

"Are you running away from vampires?" you asked, uselessly curious about the idea of ​​a girl who knew the legends. An outsider who knew the legends. And you thought they only existed in Sunnydale.

"Running away isn't the right word, I'm afraid. They should run away from me, according to my… well, they should run away from me, instead. But I just don't agree with anything that happens here. In my life, specifically. Nothing seems to…"

"… make sense?"

"Are you…?", she stopped, staring at you and making you a little more nervous and tense than before. And then, she shook her head. "No, you're not. She said there's only one in each corner. And if I'm here, you couldn't be here. Not active."

Drunk talk. Daydreams. That was all that was needed, really.

"What are you talking about?", you asked, confused.

"Doesn't matter," Faith shook her head, laughing. "Are you single?"

Wait, what? That's definitely a quick escalation.

"What?"

"Oh, you don't like other girls? I see."

"No, no, I just… got confused, what…?"

"Calm down, I just asked if you're single. It's no big deal. And it's also okay if you don't date other girls, it's just, like, I thought you were a little… too pretty and I just wanted to know if you could… like…"

You laughed. Of course. They all had the same excuse. There was no way out of this. It started like that, and then you'd pin them against the wall, and then you'd kiss them, and then you'd try to take their shirts off until you remembered that the rule was not to get attached. And then you'd just kick them out. Because there was no point in trying to be nice when you didn't need to anymore.

"… if I could make out with you?", you finished, again, still laughing. "Yeah, it's a good proposal, actually, but I really don't know if it's very safe. You seem too drunk for my bones and I don't want to cause any problems."

Faith seemed, at that moment, to be offended. She shook her head, frowning and downing the entire drink in one go, her eyes scrutinizing you like a predator.

"I wouldn't complain if you caused me trouble, babe, I mean it," she said, simply throwing the words out of her mouth. "I have an iron fist. And, truthfully, I don't get drunk that quickly. I'm just too happy, but it's not because of the drink."

It's because of you. Okay, that was really obvious. You should have guessed.

And you should have known you were breaking the rule if you accepted it.

She stretched in the chair next to yours, a movement even more deliberate because her black blouse had risen enough to leave you in contact with half of her exposed belly. And that shouldn't have turned you on like it did. Never. Not for a second.

You took a deep breath. You imagined yourself as a vampire drinking blood from its victims, and realized that it would be a horrible thing to do, as much as it was to think.

"We don't have to make out. I can just kiss you in a random corner, surrounded by people, no one will notice," Faith said determinedly. "And I'll control my hands enough so they don't touch you…"

Oh my God. What were you getting yourself into?

You didn't think, you didn't even have time to. It felt like something else was taking over you, and maybe it would have been easier to blame the Mai Tai because when you pressed Faith against the wall and started kissing her breathlessly and in a hurry, you completely lost consciousness.

***

The day after wasn't usually the worst. But that morning after in particular was terrifying for you because, with all that hangover, you were sure you would die if you took one more step.

But the hangover certainly wasn't the biggest problem.

You don't remember the aftermath of attacking Faith's lips at the Bronze. You only remember that, in flashes, you took her home, and she led you to the gate, made you stop your father's car on the porch and tried to pull the car door open for you to get out too. But you bravely, and maybe a little self-consciously, pushed her back and said that you hated rushing things.

But you had never said that. And you had never even been in a hurry to kiss any other girl you had been with, because there had never been an accidental lifting of her shirt in the middle of the kiss, or a silly touch on the other girl's soft, tanned skin, or the discovery of a strange scar on her belly that she quickly dismissed by shoving her tongue down your throat.

And you needed to stop thinking about Faith before things got worse for you. Because you had never thought so much about another girl before. The first, maybe the first girl you had ever kissed, outside of the Bronze…

But you were thirteen. And your head was full of apple punch, which you had drunk behind your parents' back at a Halloween party with your childhood friends. And you had just kissed a girl at Spin the Bottle. And while you were throwing up and being grounded for three weeks, all you could think about was this girl.

Luckily, she moved out the following year. And you stopped thinking.

As you brushed your teeth, drank coffee, said a dull and boring good morning to your parents and lit a cigarette in the backseat while your father sang Johnny Cash on the way to school, you couldn't stop thinking about Faith. And then, in Philosophy class, you started studying about faith and counterparts. And it only got worse for you.

And then you knew you couldn't stay like this. And that you needed to see her again. Even if it was just to punch that beautiful little face, look into those brown eyes one last time or see her mouth bleeding and dripping on those perfect lips that you kissed last night.

***

Agreement number three: don't kill yourself.

But it was kind of hard to keep a promise like that in Sunnydale. When things started to heat up again in the town, and the legends started to become reality, you had to deal with the fear of facing your skepticism.

A part buried inside your brain thought that was incredibly cool. The vampires running around, the thirst for blood, the hidden threat that could invade the place you were in and make you the victim. But the more rational part started to cultivate fear, trauma, apprehension, the idea of ​​the scary occult that you didn't know about.

Oh, come on, the last known Vampire Slayer had been killed. There was no one to protect your small, peaceful town now. Any self-respecting girl was terrified of leaving the house, because there was the horrible possibility of being the chosen one.

But there was no way. You even wanted to stay home, locked up, but your free spirit cried out to go out. And faced with a dark situation in which you couldn't stop thinking about a girl, the girl you had kissed to shut her up, you needed to get out.

Until you discovered that the smell of smoke possibly attracted strange, almost snake-like creatures, thirsty for blood and with huge teeth capable of piercing a person's neck.

Until you lit a cigarette and felt a chill down your spine instead of relief when you inhaled.

Until you were knocked to the ground by the deliberate voice and the grip of a hideous creature with huge teeth. A vampire. Good. This was your chance to change your destiny, which you didn't do, because, in truth, there was no chance of people being nice to you, not in this life, at least.

When he knocked you down and ran to grab you firmly behind the neck, you closed your eyes, expecting the worst. You wouldn't even feel the firmness of his fangs. Until he grunted, and fell. A shrill, hoarse scream echoed from afar, making you open your eyes:

"Pay attention, you son of a bitch!"

And then, Faith pulled you up, the rush imminent. You knew it was her because, in fact, the unmistakable smell had been in your mind for weeks. With a glance in her direction, you clearly saw the girl's gaze soften, and you smiled, relieved, a heavy sigh that was hard to escape.

"Are you okay? Did he bite you? Are you in pain?"

"Faith," you whispered. That was all you could say. You hugged her, laughing, and she hugged you back, after two seconds, tightening her arms around you, as if she was refusing to let go.

Then, as usual, she broke the hug, with a not-so-gentle pat on your chest. "You idiot! You shouldn't be out here, it's dangerous! They're sending vampires from beyond to come after us. Answer my questions, at least, okay, idiot?"

You laughed. "Don't worry, babe, I'm fine. He was going to bite me, but you came along and… wow, you put a good stake in his chest."

"Actually, it's my dagger," she smiled, kneeling down and pulling the dagger out of the vampire's chest, as he disappeared and turned to dust in front of you. "Well, here's my secret. A Vampire Slayer. But you can interpret it however you want. I can be a Vigilante, that's all."

You huffed, shaking your head. And then, the words just spilled out of your throat again.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since that day at the Bronze. I'm not the same person anymore, Faith. I can't pretend anymore that I didn't get attached and that you didn't catch my attention from the beginning. I lied to myself for a long time about the other girls, but you…", you sighed, looking at her. "It was different. And all it took was for me to have a horrible near-death experience with an ugly creature like that to make sure of it."

"Oh, will you ever shut up, doll?", she teased, and pulled you by the waist for a desperate kiss, lowering the dagger until it fell to the floor again, and wrapping both arms around you, exactly as you imagined she would do. "I knew it… I knew it would make you change your mind. You look so much cuter without that bad girl pose."

"As if you knew anything about me, Faith."

"Oh, I know. Trust me. I've known you my whole life," she whispered, lost, before kissing you again. "I was just waiting for you to get to know me too. And then I could have you, all to myself, without all this arrogance."

"Shut up," you whispered.

And then she shut up. And you kissed all night. And maybe the next day, when she woke up in your bed and made you skip school for the first time. It was also the first day you accepted being bossed around by someone.

And somehow, that was what it was like to rule the world.

[hippiegothrecs]

banner by me :)

banner by @cafekitsune

About Me: call me Hippie (or Goth) / 27 / she/her / fic writer / bi / married / minors and ageless blogs DNI

Main Blog: hippiegoth97

divider by @strangergraphics

My Fandoms/Favorite Characters

Stranger Things: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham

The X Files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully

Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Spike, Giles, Buffy, Willow, Tara, Faith, Angel, Drusilla

Slumber Party Massacre 2: Driller Killer

Ghostbusters: Egon Spengler

Once Upon a Time: Killian Jones, Regina Mills

Fargo: Gator Tillman

Rec Lists: (Coming Soon!)

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Stranger Things

Fox Mulder

Dana Scully

Spencer Reid

Penelope Garcia

Spike (BTVS)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Gator Tillman

Tagging some lovely writer Mutuals, please check out their awesome work!: @rafeyscurtainbangs @loserboysandlithium @stalactitekilla @sanctumdemunson @jenniquinn

@userchai @violetpixiedust @littlenymphfables @angel-munson @slowandsteddie

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @thisusernameisunavailable01 @littlexdeaths @ali-r3n

@spookybabey @leelei1980 @hotwritergf @strangererotica @melodymunson

@queenimmadolla @cxrrodedcoffin @keeksandgigz

I'm hoping to see this list grow over time, community is very important!

[matchesarelit]

Imagine If You Will...

Attempting to make the most of your stay with your family friends despite the tension that is still lingering after 70 odd years.

This is the *Fluffy* Part 2 an obscenely long time after the other two parts, Fair warning although it gets quite cute, the beginning is a little angsty cause like Ambrose was a dick and needs to apologise so ya know...

P1 -- Angsty p2 

WC: 1.9k

You gathered yourself, walking down the hall before striking your knuckles twice on his door. You were met with silence, yet just as you raised your clenched fist to knock again you heard from behind you;

“Hi”

"Ambrose..."

His name was simply all you could manage, the determination from mere seconds before had dripped away and settled in the grooves of the floor. Turning to meet his eyes, you allowed your arms to drop as dead weight to hang by your sides, every ounce of you tired from the hours of anticipation and dread.

The extended silence that hung in the air between the two of you felt unending, your eyes had all but glazed over in your trance. The sound of his footfalls was what alerted you mere milliseconds before you were crushed in his embrace, his head rested atop your own, tucking you into himself. There was no space, no air between the two of you, it was admittedly a not unwelcome change but it was cast in the shadows of the discussions that had to follow it.

The exhale that tumbled from his lungs turned into hurried kisses along the crown of your head, the small acts of affection wrought a funny familiarity, It had been almost a century since you conceded to yourself that you would never feel it again, and decades since you last allowed yourself to remember it. His embrace still felt the same, hauntingly, jarringly so, as if it was someone else's distant memory not your own that you were experiencing.

Despite the strange looming feelings the interaction was nothing near short, you clung to each other, fisting the clothes beneath splayed hands for near half an hour.

Pulling back you met his eyes, "It's been a while ey?" eyes falling over his form; "How has it been, being trapped inside?" he simply rolled his eyes as his hands sat on your hips, the warmth of his skin calming in the crisp autumn air, not to mention the scent that remained the same despite the decades that have passed. The smell is every memory, every adventure and experience you had shared, every whispered secret and playful scheme.

"Heaven how I missed you!" He gripped your sides tighter as he pulled you closer once again and spun the pair of you on the spot in the snug hallway. A sound, a mix of a quaint giggle and absurd snort erupted from your stomach at the shock of the movement. "Me too 'Ro. Can't say I expected such a warm welcome though..." you allowed your sentence to hang between the pair of you unfinished, knowing he was the only one who could answer the question you didn't ask. Gingerly, he placed you down on your own two feet, keeping one hand on your waist, he assured you were standing steady before he retreated his hand to rub the back of his neck.

His tone was sheepish as he started up again but his eyes never left yours, "I am so sorry, for... everything; for not listening to you or my aunties, for saying such harsh and untrue things to you. It was all lies and bullshit to make myself feel better about my idiotic decisions. I think I knew, back then, how stupid it was I-I just didn't want to admit I was wrong, that I could fall for such a imbecilic scheme." he ran a shaky hand down the length of his face. "I know how horrible the things I said to you were, and I can't imagine how hurt you must have been. I hate that I was so detestable while you were simply trying to help me and the things you were saying- I feel like I didn't even really hear them until you had left. please just know I am trying better these days, to listen to those around me, the people I care about..."

By the conclusion of his apology his posture had shrunken, his shoulders curling over. No matter ow appreciative of his apology you may have been seeing Ambrose shrinking in on himself was not something you could bare to watch so you moved silently to mirror his prior embrace, tucking his head into your chest. "Its okay Ro, I mean I was quite judgy. I could have bee-" he tugged himself away from you carefully before cupping your face in his hands. "No, please. There is nothing that you did, there was no part of this that was your fault and I cannot bare to think of you blaming yourself." His voice was hurried as he rushed through the words, but as he neared the end his voice changed, diminished into a tired whisper "So please, please just... don't." the final word was punctuated with a long kiss to your forehead, a tradition that was missed in the many years that had passed.

"Okay Ro, I won't, and thank you, truly, for your apology." You pull his head downwards so that his forehead rests on your own. "But now, please don't stress okay? We've lost enough time as it is" a sniffled hum did not satisfy as you pulled back, lifting his chin to force his eyes to meet your own as you raised a brow... "Seriously, Ambrose, let us not waste any more time. I forgive you, you daft idiot." Tugging his head down further you placed a kiss of your own to his forehead before stepping back. Clutching his hand in your own you tugged him towards his room eager to catch up on the years in-between.

Crashing onto the all too familiar cushions that lay always strewn across the floor, you struggled to pull your gaze from his form. In spite of spending over seventy years apart every spot and feature of his room remained the same, the only notable change lay in his presence, even while reclining in his own space he seemed to recede within himself. And yet reiterating your prior reassurance would surely be futile in the way of making him feel any more comfortable so you simply settled on acting as normal as you could manage.

"So... how is the coven fairing? I've heard your cousin is just as much trouble as we were in our day."

"Pssh, she is much worse than we could manage, but her intentions are better than ours were, much less trouble for troubles sake."

"Damn. speaking of trouble who took over after your uncle?" A dramatic and yet genuinely sour look came over his features as he spat out "Faustus Blackwood" as if the name itself was poisonous.

Your brows knitted together as did your lips as you pouted out an "Ew" Considering for a moment your next words were spoken in disbelief "Such a decision is inconceivable, what the what?"

"I agree my dear and yet..." his words trailed off for a moment before his enigmatic grin covered his face as it often did and he continued; "That was, of course, until Auntie Zelda took his position." His chest had puffed out at this point, clearly joyous to share the news. Your face was overtaken itself in a swarm of joy and outrage as you shot up from your seat as if determined to interrogate why Zelda had left that piece of major news out of your earlier conversation, this reaction of course only cause Ambrose's smile to grow impossibly wider.

A playful glare soon latched onto your features as you all but launched yourself into his arms, muttering out all sorts of childish insults in frustration as you pinched his cheeks, ending with a simple jibe of "Way to bury the lead Ro!"

Settling yourself on bringing the topic up later with the other Spellmans present you relented and tangled yourself alongside his limbs as you had done countless times, before you enquired instead as to his excursions after his house arrest had been lifted, at which point you were happily regaled with tales of dates, studies and adventures alongside his trouble-surrounded cousin.

Within what felt like a few moments, night had fallen and with it came the squealing of brakes and the scattering of gravel. Releasing a chuckle, you rose to your feet, lazily tugging Ambrose from the cushions and to your side as you started towards the foyer.

Only releasing his hand as you reached to tug open the door, glancing past the towering figure to the haphazardly parked car out front, you simply scoffed and cocked your head to the side. now looking up at the man if front of you as if confused by his lack of movement. Rocking back and forth on your heels you raised a mocking brow in his direction before jerking your head backwards into the house, all but inviting him in. Emphasis on the 'all but' as he remained stuck on the other side of the threshold. Sparing a glance to your side, you spotted Ambrose, his brows furrowed and his genuine confusion obvious as he looked between yourself and the blonde at the door.

Yet despite your gaze remaining on Ambrose you caught the briefest mutter of "bloody fuck" from the vamp, and turned your attention to him once again. "Well Spike, how was the casino? Lose all of our money already?"

An offended scoff fell from his lips as he fired back; "Course not love, Don't you trust me? Now come on, let's go inside ey?" drawing your face into a pinched expression you gazed to the sky in another bout of mocking consideration, you leave him hanging for an extended moment, until the sounds of the sisters entering the space drew all of your intention, apart from Ambrose who remained studying Spike who in turn met his gaze with a cocky wink.

It was almost laughable how fast the vampire's cocky and frustrated expression morphed into one of innocence as he greeted the women with flattery and kindness. It was just as you thought, the big softie was capable of not being a dick when it suited him best. Yet as soon as Hilda had invited him inside his smile briefly twisted into yet another one of his cockiest smirks as he shouldered past you.

"So you travel with our little one?"

"Yes, I am glad to say I do. And may I say thank you for lettin' me in. Someone was enjoying keeping me out in the cold."

"Troublesome as ever, I'm truthfully not surprised with all the chaos these two used to get into." Zelda mused as Hilda hummed in agreement;

"Always so cheeky these two"

Sharing a look with the man at your side as you rolled your eyes, you knocked your shoulder with his as you followed the other three from the door. Unsurprisingly Spike was arm in arm, flanked by both of the witches and that was pretty much how it remained from then on for the rest of the night as he regaled the women with adventures and stories of your travels, only pausing on occasion for your input as you lay, head resting on the shoulder of your old friend.

At that moment it felt as if no time had passed at all, and for tonight at least you wanted it to stay that way; complex feelings, bruised egos and ancient scars were an issue for tomorrow.

[singwith-love-at-our-throats]

looking for spuffy fic recs that are mostly just cute fluff pls

[roselynnthornwood]

Author IG: roselynnthornwood_author

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Artist IG: drea.d.art

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[chronic-escapixt]

🖤 Welcome to the page of a recluse with too much time on her hands 🖤

About Me---

Hello. My name is Jen and I've been on the platform for a while, reading and reblogging fics of my favorite fandoms and sharing my own writing.

I identify as she/her and I'm Black, white & Dominican. I'm in my 20s, bi, my zodiac is gemini & I might be clairvoyant or just think too much.

When I'm not lost in my own head, I'm taking psychology and diversity studies & when I'm not studying, I'm often on this platform or writing.

Genres - dark romance (see warnings), smut, angst, fluff… whatever random lore i make up to fixate on

My content is NSFW 18+ (so no minors plz). It's mostly smut with a little plot (bc ain't nobody got time for that) and they tend to have dark topics (specific warnings listed below).

[2024 update: I took a long break from posting because of issues with mental and physical health but I'm feeling better now and the time I took to myself was spent on my organizing my ideas, so I plan on being more consistent with my posting]

~Fandoms: TVD, BTVS, OB, Hazbin Hotel (my current fixation is Kai Parker from TVD).

I use dark themes in my works, including but not limited to: CNC, dubcon, non-con, yandere, murder, abuse, trauma, stalking, dacryphilia, rough sex, degradation, spanking, size kink, unhealthy dom/sub relationship, bondage, knife kink, choking, kidnapping, breeding, unprotected sex, overstimulation (specific warnings will be listed on each post).

REMEMBER: you are responsible for the content you consume, so please read all content warnings before interacting with my posts.

TVD Fanfics Masterlists(18+): Kai Parker Masterlist Bonnie Bennett Masterlist

[spuffybaby]

Time to Heal (5)

chapter links: (1) (2) (3) (4) (6) (7)

Though the thought had not crossed her mind then, back in Sunnydale, Buffy figured she'd been few nights away from figuring out a way to be exactly in this position, Spike next to her in her bedroom instead of the basement, one hand behind his head to hold himself up on the pillow, the other holding a poetry collection from Dawn's room. His voice was lowered, Dawn was sleeping already, but Buffy heard it all perfectly clear, close enough as she kept her eyes closed, her head on the pillow, facing him. She felt relaxed, not just because Spike was there and because she no longer had to mourn him and the time they'd been robbed of, but because there was something soothing to his voice, beyond it just being him, the melodic tone in which he read so smoothly, the depth of his voice a contrast she didn't think she could grow tired of.

“Buffy?” He was quiet, had just concluded another poem, suspecting she'd fallen asleep.

Her eyes opened, half-lidded and fatigued, but her gaze met his as she looked up at him. “Spike?”

No matter how many times he heard it, he would never ever get enough of hearing her say his name, and the way she said it now, with her guard down and a softness he'd rarely ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of, he didn't deserve it. "Thought you were sleeping, pet,” he said.

“No,” she said, propping herself up onto her elbow, her face closer to his. “Don't wanna sleep yet.”

“Y'know you can,” he said. “I'll be here. Make sure you and your little bodyguard are alright.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “She missed you too, you know,” she said. “She always liked you.”

Spike chuckled. “I wouldn't say that. She once threatened to set me on fire.”

“She-” Buffy laughed. “I mean, I'm not surprised. She's protective. Like you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “'course I am,” he said.

“I never knew how much.”

The words were quiet, a mumble under her breath, but he'd heard her. “What d'you mean, love?” He tilted his head to the side, watching her closely.

“Dawn told me how you...” She took a deep breath. “When Faith took over before the battle... Dawn told me what you said when you found out that I was gone. That you stood up for me.”

“Oh, that,” he said. “Took me all I had not to go mental on them. Still can't believe all I did was fight Faith. I was ready to take 'em all on.”

Buffy watched the temporary anger in his features, then his face relax when he noticed the look in her eye.

“I knew you wouldn't have wanted me to, no matter what they'd done. Didn't matter. Had to give 'em a piece of my mind though.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“What did you expect?” he asked. “Told you how I felt every chance I got.”

She laughed quietly. “I know. Guess you're not the only one who finds these things hard to believe.” She shrugged. “Think I always thought you did good for me. To see. To show me.”

“In the beginning, yeah.” He shook his head. “But I told you then, I don't just want you. I want you to have what you want. I want to make sure you're safe, that you're happy.”

She blinked back at him. “You want me?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Still?”

Spike's brows furrowed. “Buffy.”

“Spike.” She waited.

He huffed out a laugh. “C'mon. You know the answer.”

“I don't,” she said.

He shuffled to sit up, placing the book at the end of her bed. “What would make you think I ever stopped?”

She felt her cheeks grow warmer. “Well, you used to tell me you were alright and not to worry. When I went on dates. You know, I... I just thought-”

“Buffy.” He shook his head. “Listen. My love for you might have changed when I got my soul, but I never stopped wanting you. Hell, the opposite if anything. Getting my soul showed me how much it meant for you to choose me, to trust me enough. It let me see so much more of you.” His jaw tensed. “Never think I don't want you.” His eyes were wide, the intensity in them keeping her hanging on to his every word. “I just learned to let you take the lead, make your choices.”

Buffy moved up so she was sat up on her knees, without hesitation she reached to cup the back of his neck and brought his face to hers, before he knew it her lips were pressed to his and it took everything he had to maintain his self-control, to not lose himself. 'Boy, would it hurt,' he thought. 'if she changes her mind.' It wasn't like he thought it wasn't worth it, it was what she wanted and that was enough, but he wanted it so badly, even if it meant just this one moment, he'd rather have that than nothing at all. Never would he have forgot the taste of her, but licking her lip, feeling her tongue, it was everything he hadn't thought he'd ever get to have again.

His hands were flat on the bed behind him and he moved closer to her, shifting to cup the back of her head, before he knew he held a fistful of her hair, moaned forcing her lips apart and when he heard a similar sound from her, he was gone, lost in her, there was nothing but the sweet smell of her skin and her hair, nothing but the taste of sugar and the sound of her wanting him.

He stopped himself, ever-scared of the moment where he couldn't. Though he was certain he wouldn't have had to because of her initiation, it was a risk he wasn't willing to take. They'd come so far and he wouldn't put it on the line. He knew he was a different man, but what he'd done to her before he'd got his soul back, it haunted him more than most demonic acts. Nothing in him thought he could do that to her again.

Her eyes opened, wide, surprised. “Are you sure?”

He'd have been out of breath if he could have been. “Don't let this be the only way I can prove it to you,” he pleaded. “I promise you it's not that I don't want you, I just-”

“You need time,” she nodded. She leaned back, sat on her feet.

He moved his hand to cup the side of her face, his thumb smoothing over her cheek. “Don't you?” He pursed his lips. “With this second, well, third chance we've got...” He gave her a small smile. “I want to do this right. You've got to understand... I can't risk any other way. That's how badly I want you.” The way she leaned into the touch of his palm almost broke him. “And you deserve things to be right.”

“Stay with me?” she asked. “Up here.”

His lips parted and he stared at her for a brief moment. Instead of speaking, he went to lie back again, extending his arm across the pillow. Seconds later, she was curled up to his side, his arm around her, her arm over him, her front pressed to his side, her head on his shoulder. It was the unique scent of him and the way he held her in a way that made her feel so well taken care of that she doubted anyone could ever compare. With his coat hung over the chair in the corner and his boots at the bottom of her bed, she hoped he'd fall asleep right beside her. But she wasn't ready yet.

“Thank you for reading to me.”

She could hear his smile in his voice. “My pleasure, pet.”

“You really like poetry.”

He chuckled. “Used to write it, didn't I?”

She opened his eyes, but his were closed, remaining so. “When you were human.”

He hummed. “After too. But I haven't since I... came back.”

“Would you read it to me?” She closed her eyes again.

To her surprise, he stayed quiet for a moment. “I don't know. Never got great feedback,” he said after a while.

He'd confessed his love for her in so many ways so openly, had been devoted to her for so long and yet, she felt if she continued to ask him about his past, about him, it would make him as hesitant as asking him to read to her in the first place had.

“If we do this the right way,” she said quietly. “You have to tell me about you. I mean, I want to know. Who you were. Who you are.”

“Buffy, love...” He opened his eyes, saw her face against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You know. Just a man who would do anything for you, striving to be what you deserve. And...” It took him a moment to continue, it was different to say these things that she could really hear, that she really took in now. “I'm an open book to you. I'll tell you whatever you want.”

She shuffled slightly, just enough to be able to reach the skin of his throat with her lips, pressing a kiss to his adam's apple. “Tell me you know you deserve me. And better.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“And mean it,” she added.

He sighed, his arm tightening around her as he settled on the pillow. “Oh, Buffy.”

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Cherish the Moment

Summary: Ever since Angel Shanshued, Buffy's been doing all that she's able to help Angel try all of the different foods that she can (often times cooking with him in trying to discover new things). She, after all, thinks he has a lot of time to make up for, in having missed so much culinary cuisine. But in always being so focused on the next thing, is Buffy maybe forgetting to cherish her precious moments with Angel?

Cherish the Moment

"Okay… I'm calling it, Buffy," a recently-turned-human-Angel laughed, sitting on a bar stool as Buffy worked feverishly in their kitchen. "This is the silliest thing we've ever done. You don't have to keep trying to figure out what's the best way to keep cereal from going soggy,” he added upon standing up to head Buffy’s way. “If my cereal does go a little soggy… well, that's part of the human experience, right?"

Buffy looked up from her work—work where she'd been doing an experiment she’d wanted to do for Angel, to see if putting your cereal in first or second when compared to the milk would save it from soggy-ness (or if putting them both in at the same time would be the magical answer)—and gave Angel a look. How was it that she’d put so much time and energy into this, and he hadn’t noticed a single difference in the cereal bowls at all?!

She partly wanted to blame his new taste buds on this fact, and say they just hadn’t developed enough yet for this test. But deep down, she knew he was right and that there was nothing to be gleaned here. So, all and all, this experiment had been a bust—and probably “the silliest thing they’d ever done,” which was sadly saying something—and she found herself oddly peeved about it. Buffy found herself continuing to glower at Angel. But she did soften some, when he put a hand to her cheek and she found herself melting into his touch.

"I just want your experience as a human to be good, y’know, Angel? Arguably, you're starting late. Or starting again late. And I don't want your taste buds to have to be wasting their time on soggy cereal when they could be having quality cereal… or tiramisu?"

"Tiramisu is good," Angel allowed, seeming lost in thought for a minute.

And Buffy wondered if he, too, was remembering how he’d worried that the cherry tiramisu he’d tried at Ferrara’s would taste too medicinal—after he’d had to have cough syrup flavored with that same fruit for the first time and he wouldn’t like it—until Buffy very cleverly smeared some on her lips and got him to try it that way. Safe to say, Angel had become a big fan after that.

"And I've loved some of these food experiments we've done together, baby—like when we found out if you use corn syrup, it'll really save you when you're trying to make caramel.

"But Buffy, I'm human again. And we have so much to discover together… if you want to do that with me. So, what I’m getting at is… I don't want you to exhaust yourself with this food stuff, so that we miss everything else."

Angel was breathing pretty heavily after his speech, Buffy noted. She knew that it shouldn’t have surprised her, either. After all, Angel actually needed to breathe now and that might have been the most words she'd ever heard him string together like that before. Huh. He really was turning over a new leaf, wasn't he? Buffy giggled, as she leaned against her boyfriend and then rewarded him with a big smile.

Though there was some small part of her that wanted to chew him out, because she had come up with all of these cooking adventure ideas for him (and yes, Angel had acknowledged that and seemed thankful for it, but still). And Buffy knew how much of a foodie her Angel was, so what the hell?!

But when she noticed the concern in his warm chocolate eyes—concern for her, it seemed—she found that she was appeased.

"I guess maybe I should leave things on the high note, of having figured out that oranges are one of the secrets to KFC’s famous chicken recipe, along with the twelve herbs and spices." Buffy quipped, as she guided Angel to sit back on the stool he’d early vacated and then draped herself in his lap. She made sure to tuck her head beneath his chin, as it was her favorite spot in the world, after all.

And it was it her, or had Angel’s face heated up as she did so? Hmm… very interesting, and hopefully telling for what their next few hours could be like. "You understand that I'm not saying we should never try cooking together again, right, Buffy? Because I'm up for anything with you. And we have made some amazing discoveries. I'm just saying that, well, we could use some more down time."

Buffy tossed her head back and laughed—nearly falling out of the stool as she did so—it was only Angel's arms secure around her waist and her own Slayer reflexes reacting in the nick-of-time that kept the moment from being ruined. “Down time or up time?” Buffy asked saucily.

The look he gave her definitely let Buffy know, and now it was her turn to catch her breath. And for her heart to beat for him like she was sixteen again. They’d surely be going upstairs soon, but first she needed him to know she had heard him.

The Slayer halted whatever her former-vampire was about to say with a finger to his lips: "But to your point: I do understand, Angel. You're human now! And that has so much to offer you—us. Walks in the sunset… talks of children… chances for you to earn gray hairs now. There's so much to do, and moments to cherish: and we should be cherishing them together and not trying to rush anything. We've rushed too much in our lives, so let's never do that again."

And when Angel made slow, sweet love to her later in the day, Buffy came to the conclusion that they both understood each other perfectly clear.

Author's Note: Inspired by me watching too many cooking shows on YouTube (also in general, like with Food Network and stuff). But this fic in particular is inspired by some episodes of Mythical Kitchen and an episode of Food Theory on YouTube.

I’ve actually been writing a lot of Bangel fanfics behind the scenes lately (that are multi-chapters, most of them, and taking FOREVER to write for that reason. That’s why you haven’t seen them posted them yet. Also this one Bangel/Kingdom Hearts crossover oneshot that’s super long—and is the first Bangel fic I ever started—but more on that later, maybe), but I wanted a short little thing I could write as a break from those, I guess, so this ended up being that. I hope you enjoy:)

I also, somehow, never thought I’d write a human!Angel fic, but it was actually pretty fun! I might try it again sometime.

[denim-devil]

Do you write for buffy the vampire slayer characters?

Like some of the male characters x male reader? Nobody does and I've been looking!?

And do you write smut? Or fluff?

I do! I mainly write for Spike and Angel, I write both smut and fluff so go ahead and request if you’d like love!