#buffy the vampire slayer imagine

[evieelyzabethh]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't unusual for Spike to 'break' into your apartment, but it was unusual for him to want to spend the night.

warnings: very long (4.4k words), spike being a simp, one bed trope, dry humping, thigh fucking, masturbation, some fingering, slight praise, Spike being Spike, a smidge of possessiveness, and thats about it

It was no secret to anyone your favorite time of day was long after the sun went down. A full-time college student who worked a part time job on top of that was no easy feat. Your time during the day was never your time, it was your shitty professors time who assigned reading after reading that needed to be read for the never-ending stream of papers and theses, it belonged to your shitty boss who piled on tons of paperwork and demanded you be at his beck and call even after you clocked out. As much as you loved them, your time off belonged to your friends; patrolling, looking through dusty-old books, trying not to die every time you stepped out of your apartment.

When you got home (if there was no patrolling to be done), it was your time and while you were tired, you made time for your nightly routine. You'd slip off your shoes and walk in the dark to make it to your room to turn on your lamp, because you'd be damned if you were turning on one of the big lights this late.

You would usually strip down and dig a pair of pajamas out of your drawers before taking a scalding shower. You'd brush your teeth and wash your face, maybe if you had the energy, you'd do a face mask and paint your nails. You'd turn on your stereo or switch on your TV to fall asleep to the fuzzy sound and soft light. This, of course, is what you'd be doing right now had you not walked into your house with company.

You could see him lounging on your bed, the darkness of his attire somehow darker than your unlit room. His duster slung on the back of your desk chair, only clothed in some tight navy shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed when you realized he had his dirty ass boots on your bed.

"M' paying my favorite Scooby a visit." You walked over to turn on your lamp, giving you enough light to see how smug he was. His arms sat behind his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. He was doing this to annoy you. He did most things just to annoy you.

"Pay another Scooby a visit." You were dead tired, practically forcing your eyes open. You had just gotten back from work, your bag still in your hand which you used to knock his legs off your bed. He could've been stubborn, but he let you.

You stripped off your hoodie, flashing him your stomach as your undershirt rose with the movement. He whistled, "Scandalous."

"Get out of my apartment." You tossed your hoodie at him while rolling your eyes. He caught it midair, bringing it to his nose to sniff it.

"Smells different. You using a different bodywash?" You hummed as you walked around your room to find something suitable to wear to bed. It was dreadfully hot out, even worse than what you'd expect from a California summer. You had at least 3 fans going anytime you were here, especially since your landlord could never seem to find a permanent solution to the junky A.C unit.

"Midnight Rose. Real fancy stuff." You hadn't even noticed a difference, but of course Spike would. Vampire senses had a way of being intrusive in a way that was only helpful when it came to your cycle and saving you bed sheets.

"I like the other one better: the cocoa butter one. It was fainter. You smelt more like you." You scoffed.

"Duly noted." Your hands roamed over the old t-shirts from high school and camisole tops so old the straps had snapped on a couple of them.

Spike sat up on your bed, untying the laces on his shoes haphazardly before setting them by your bedroom door. He roamed around like you had been, picking up bottles of nail polish and flipping through one of the books on your shelf.

"You could spare me a bit of your attention, love. I mean I did go through the trouble of-"

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

"On second thought, it was a bit easy. I pushed it a bit and the window came right out. Are you leaving it open for somebody?" His tone was supposed to sound much more teasing than it did. There was a pang in his chest, probably of jealousy. Much to his chagrin, he was jealous a lot these days and he couldn't quite tell if his frequent visits were enabling that or the very cause of it. Either way, it was hard not to just crawl through your window anytime he pleased.

You acted like you were annoyed and if he had a dollar for every time you threatened to call Buffy on him, he wouldn't need to dumpster dive for furniture. If he had another dollar for every time, you never followed through, he'd be even richer. You said it's because you could handle yourself without her help, but, admittedly, you didn't hate his company that much.

As far as house guests go, it could be worse. It's not like he eats all your food, talks your ears off, or is unfunny. He was just there. A pain in your ass sometimes, like when he insists on being half a step behind you during patrols and never fails to tell you how great your ass looks from behind. Never a malevolent presence, just annoyingly noticeable.

His boots were clunky, and he smelled of faint cigarettes and alcohol. He also hated silence. He was fidgety and anxious, even if his intentions were stealth, he couldn't help but break the tension and open his mouth. At times against his will, he just wanted to be noticed that bad. He just needed to be around you that bad.

"I keep telling the landlord to fix it, but he insists it's just fine. 'Nothin' some glue won't fix'." But you had tried gluing it. Had it not been for the clear shit jammed in the lock, the window would've just come right open with the flick of a finger.

"I could fix it for you." He went ignored while you had made your way to your bathroom, taking your hair down from the claw clip it had been stuck in for the past few hours. A slight moan of relief slipped through your lips as your fingers carded through it to massage your scalp.

"You know how to fix windows?"

"Well...no. But it can't be that hard. I've been around a few hundred years, surely I can figure out how to fix a bloody window." What he meant to say (if he had the balls) was that he would be more than happy to learn how to fix a window for you. It would give him an excuse to hang around, it would keep him in your good graces for a solid month, and he wouldn't have to break an entering anymore. Granted, his preferred place of entry had long been broken and he could always come through the front door, but it was a matter of principle.

You looked him up and down, trying to decipher if this was a set up for a joke or if he was actually serious, but he kept his head down. He hadn't been able to blush since he was a human, but the habit had a way of rearing its head for you.

He was so pretty too. With his high cheekbones and the way the warm light made his complexion look less ghastly. As ironic and cliche as it would be to say, he looked slightly angelic. Like one who fell from Heaven and donned the dark and mysterious charade to make it hurt less. He would burn away under a cross just to make it back to Heaven. Nearly break his spine falling out of windows and bleed out taking stabs if it meant he was closer to your doors. If there was one thing Spike did well, it was devotion.

"You wouldn't even know where to start. I'll just call Xander or something."

"What're you gonna do that for!"

"Because, Spike," you laughed incredulously, confused as to if this was going to become an argument or form a chip on his shoulder. "If I want something fixed, I'm going to call someone who does it for a living."

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't charge anything of monetary value." You snorted, not surprised at all with his answer.

"You are such a whore, you know that?"

"What can I say, baby?" He leaned against the door frame of your bathroom, where you stood staring at your reflection in the mirror. He was happy that his nonexistent reflection could betray him. He was grateful to be a part of this routine - your routine- in a way that didn't disrupt your peace. It was soft. Almost domestic.

You were so meticulous about the way you scrubbed your face and brushed your teeth. He liked how when you took off your makeup the glitter remained. You sparkled at the right angles, really fucking sparkled. Of course, he was going to sit and stare at you; mascara still not completely wiped away, hair tied back with a fuzzy headband, lips agitated from being bit throughout the day. It was poetic. Second nature to him. He didn't need to breath, but it came to him then, overwhelming and filling his lungs like water until he was full as he stared at you in the mirror with not even his own reflection to judge him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"How rude, without me?" Damn, he sounded like a bloody idiot. You only looked him up and down, trying to appear deeply disgusted but stopped just shy of mildly annoyed.

"Get out of my apartment before I stake you." You slammed the bathroom door in his face, hiding your blush behind the wood.

"That's not a no." His voice is muffled behind the door, and as much as you'd like to believe he didn't hear it, you did laugh.

***********************************************************

Spike had to have been a cat in a previous life, is what you decided when you found him still on your bed, nose in some magazine he found pretending to care about the newest Natasha Denona palette.

"That crypt must be uncomfortable as hell for you to still be here." You skated around your room to sink beside him. He reaches across his side to pull out a bottle of water and hands it to you.

"Your showers are hot as hell; I'm surprised you didn't pass out in there." He flips through the pages nonchalantly, pretending not to be incredibly fixated at the water dripping from the nape of your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

"You would've loved that, wouldn't you? Getting to play 'knight and shining armor' while I'm conveniently naked." The sound waxy pages being torn was a surprise. So much of you and his banter was contingent on the assumption that neither of you meant anything serious so nothing would become anything.

Spike, who spent most of his mortal adult life swallowing his feelings until his stomach became an endless chasm where his feelings went to fester rather than die, was more than okay with this unspoken arrangement. Sarcasm was a second language to you. You were used to your words not mattering, especially since in your group of friends, your existence seemed to matter far less than everyone else's. You wondered if that was why you and Spike got along so well.

He just got you. Maybe a side effect of him being around you whenever he could. He just got you. In a stupid way. In an annoying way. The kind of way that made you worried that reading minds was also one of his vampiric powers. He wormed his stupid way into your brain, slithering around in his own sort of Spike way til you didn't know where his influence began.

He did sort of have this hypnotic way of speech. Maybe because he was a poet. Poets have to have some sort of hypnotic power, right? Surely, there was some connection between rhythms and brain waves that made the effect of Spike's voice so persuasive. Maybe it's not the rhythm and it's just the honesty. Ironic, since the basis of your "relationship" was built on never assuming that the other meant what they said, but who cares. It gave you guys flavor. Something to keep things interesting.

"I'll have you know; I am a very old-fashioned guy with manners." You snorted as his response. He talked about his "old-fashioned" ways a lot. Maybe to convince you that he was a gentleman. Gentleman your ass, you'd seen what he kept in his crypt.

"My deepest apologies for assuming that a guy that used railroad spikes as a murder weapon of choice wouldn't be above jumping at the opportunity to see me naked."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to mirrors, yeah." His scoff was lost in the sound of a car horn going off across the street. Damn, you needed a new place. He had complained to you about the noise before. If you didn't leave near a busy street, he would try his luck spending the night far more than he already did. Each blare deepened the scowl on his face as he flinched at the sound, even louder from where he sat in front of it.

"Those death buggies have to be the worst thing to come out of the 20th century. So obnoxious, and for what?"

"I imagine they are more convenient than horse drawn carriages."

"Yeah, more convenient and not even half the charm." He turned his head to gaze out the window. "It's not even a nice car! I'd rather ride around in the fucking Angel Mobile than drive around in that thing."

"You are so dramatic. Usually I just," you swing your leg over his waist, straddling and reaching over to close the window. He swallowed hard at the feeling of your chest pressing against the magazine, the only boundary between him and you, and the nonchalance of the action. "Shut the window." You felt him tense beneath you, his right hand awkwardly meeting your hip, blue eyes staring up at you through dark eyelashes. "Then again, I'm not a pansy who needs complete silence to sleep."

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I sleep in a cemetery, love, ain't much noise around those parts." His eyes wandered everywhere they could but the worst part about beautiful people is that there is no unsightly place to avert your gaze. He couldn't stare at your gorgeous eyes, or your stunning nose, or your lips to distract himself from the steadily growing boner that you were sitting right on top of. You were no better than he was.

Within the context of the unspoken agreement, this meant absolutely nothing. The boner was just a normal reaction, that didn't have to mean anything. The way he was looking at you was a bit hard to ignore, but that was the way he always looked at you. He was a lot closer right now, sure, but that stupid lovesick look that you have spent years trying to ignore, totally just a joke. Not real at all. A trick of the light, in fact. The hard-on was very real though.

After sitting there for a few seconds too long, you shift your weight to move back to your side of the bed, but his hands keep you in your place. " 'm cold", he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles between where your shorts meet your bare skin.

"Yeah?" You feel him pressing up against your core. "I didn't think you could get cold."

" Me either but-", you lowered yourself completely on his clothed dick and the groan he let out was salacious. "Here we are." The frigid way he moved made his lie believable. Incredibly cautious, hesitant. No idea what to do with himself. He ran his hands along your thighs, up and down your side, one cold hand sliding underneath your shirt, rubbing the hem of it between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You leaned forward, warm breath fanning against his nose. It smelled like mint. You smelled like some sort of cocoa butter. Smooth and soft on top of him and he didn't know if you were going to roll right off or melt into his skin. Your hands come to the sides of his face, and you stare intently at him. He felt like he was under a microscope with the way you looked at him like you were committing each detail of him to memory so that even when you closed his eyes, it was still him burning in the forefront of your mind.

"You gonna kiss me?" You whispered, pressing yourself further into him. He let out a breathy laugh.

"What, a guy's always gotta make the first move?" With that, you leaned down to give him what was meant to be a quick peck. A tester. A tease. But when you give Spike an inch, he takes a mile, and he took the opportunity to devour you. Mouth open, sloppy, wet kisses while his hands worked as eagerly as his tongue did. You were a calming presence, slow and sane as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to try and ground the both of you.

Breathing through your nose, you inhaled him. The faint smell of smoke, the fresh smell of whatever he washed the gel from his hair with, the distinctly Spike musk. Your thighs wrapped him more closely, subtly grinding into his lap, ignoring the slight burn on your knees from the friction between them and your sheets. His large hands covered swathes of skin, cooling you where you grew too hot from his touch. When he had his fill, he broke away from you, still nose to nose, a string of saliva still between the two of you.

"Do you wanna spend the night?" Your voice was somehow meek as if there was any way in hell he would say no to you. He breathed out, turning his head into the crook of your neck, leaving searing kisses on your silky skin, worshipping at his altar, and thanking who or whatever got him here tonight. He kisses you from your neck, along your jawline, to the corner of your lips.

"Yes", he whispers against your skin. He bucks his hips into you, the imprint of his cock and the rough material of his jeans kissing your pussy through the thin layers of material. You nearly choke on his tongue at the feeling. Fuck.

Your eyes are closed, hips moving furiously against his, too blissed out to even care about the steadily growing wet patch in your underwear. You're lost in kisses, kisses that overwhelm and confuse and steal your breath until you wonder how much you need to breathe anyway. Along with not needing to breathe, you learned they must have incredible resolve. He chases you. Not like how a wolf chases a lamb but how the sun chases the moon.

He pulls and you push for breath, some sort of reprieve, some time for your mind to catch up with your body because right now everything but the way the seams of his jeans catch your clit is one of the only things on your mind. He pulls you, still, his hands squeezing at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbing at your nipples, and flicking the already hard peaks. And you push, still, not in protest but in harmony. Your hips pressing down, his jerking up. Your hands tugging his hair, his squeezing your waist. It was good. It was so good.

"What is the point", he starts breathlessly, "of these damn shorts if they're so thin. You're leaking right through, love." He smiles against you, sharp teeth grazing against your cheek as he smirks.

"Take 'em off me then." For once in his life, he takes his time. The desperation of his prior movements forgotten as he looks at you as he trails a finger from your chest down between the valley of your breasts, to your navel. He draws invisible shapes along your stomach, diamonds, hearts, and letters spelling m-i-n-e. And he stalls there. Looking from beneath you, smug as you ground yourself onto his dick in an attempt to move him along.

He was amused. Fascinated. You in your own world, mewling, moaning, putting on a show just for him. Choosing to ignore how sticky your panties had gotten, how much they stuck to your cunt as you wiggled your hips as if you could get any closer. Your tits moving with you, the way your mouth was slightly agape, the way you keened when you rubbed against him just right. It was no motivation for him to move his hands at all, not when it was much more rewarding to angle his hips up and make you see stars. "You gonna cum like this?" He crooned, full of fake sympathy.

"You're really gonna make me get myself off." You rolled your eyes, maybe out of pleasure, maybe out of faux annoyance. Either way, his hand slithered to the waistband of your shorts and dipped even deeper. He left feather-light touches on your clit which sent jolts of electricity up your spine. Overcome with the tightening feeling in your belly, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as your hips worked and worked you snapped. Impossibly wet and dazed, you rocked into him until the high had passed and the stars had left from behind your eyelids leaving only Spike.

His fingers still, in your panties, he moves to slide them and your shorts off your body. You hover slightly, still too sensitive to rub your bare pussy against him. You fidget with the button of his jeans and zipper, Spike's hands coming to cover yours to ease the shakiness. Maybe to give the appearance that he was much calmer than he was. He was painfully hard, and you felt it when you palmed him through his boxers after getting his pants down enough. Where his tip sat was a wet spot. You smirked.

"Did I get your dick that wet?" A shiver went down his spine. The heat from your palm was felt through his boxers. Your hand was barely big enough to cover it. Before either of you was prepared for it, he flipped you on your back. His hands sat on either side of your head while yours removed him from his boxers. He was so big.

You tore your gaze away from his cock to meet his gaze. He still looked at you the same. Pupils widened from lust, cheeks with a slightly pink tinge, lips puffy, eyes looking down at you with the same look they always had. It's then he leans down to kiss you for the millionth time. No urgency, less messy, a kiss like he was trying to wake you from a thousand-year slumber.

Your hand still on his cock, you pumped it a few times, swiping your thumb against his tip to lubricate his dick. He groaned into your mouth, humming in pleasure. You try to line him up to sink in your hole, but he slaps you on the wrist. "Don't want your cunt tonight," he mumbled in between kisses, "Jus' let me feel you."

He pumped his cock a few times before slotting it in between the meat of your thighs. The veins and ridges of his dick would occasionally slide between your folds, but that wasn't the focus. No matter how much you wiggled for him to plant his cock so far deep it kissed your cervix, you were ignored as he squeezed your thighs together, panting as he fucked them.

The juxtaposition made your head dizzy. The softness with which he kissed you and the fervor of his dick between your thighs, them getting wetter with the accumulation of precum leaking from his dick. It only forced him to press harder, leaving handprints from how hard he gripped. "Such a pretty thing, aren't you." He sighed out, his pace still even but his breaths far from it. "Go ahead and touch that pretty cunt f' me."

As much as your brain wasn't working, it wasn't needed to do what you were told. Bleary-headed, your hand traveled from the outside of your leg to between your folds. Still wet from your previous orgasm, it didn't take much to just slip a couple fingers in, moaning as you did. One hand toyed with your tit as the other toyed with your clit, your hips wanting to buck into your hand had it not been for Spike's palm on your stomach.

Had he had the composure, he would have made some sarcastic comment. Slow down, love, what's the rush, is what he would've said had his thrusts not been as sloppy as they were. He pulled away from your lips to see the mess he was making. White beads pooled on the skin of your stomach, dripping down your thighs like liquid pearls. And you. Low warm light bouncing off your skin, lip tucked in your teeth, staring right up at him. It took all of him not to cum at the sight.

Not before you did, he decided, which by the way your moans pitched up wasn't that far away. Each "accidental" slide into you was met with a jerk of your hips. "Stop it", you squealed, the bucking of your hips screaming otherwise.

"Feels too good, doesn't it." Then he did it again. His large hand drifts around before grabbing your abandoned tit, groping it until you hit your limit again. Your chest heaved unevenly as you tried to catch your breath as Spike's hips sped up, stuttered, then stopped as his cum splashed on your stomach and breasts.

Spent and not knowing what to do, he kisses you again. He smiles into it, and to his surprise, you do too. Like it was the only thing that made sense to do. The fuzz gradually fades from your mind, the noise from the multiple fans running and the faint humming of electricity apparent again. There's a breeze coming in from your window and you giggle.

"Are you still cold?"

[readingbookelf]

The Defense Rests - Spike

Summary: The Scooby-gang holds an emergency meeting when they find out you're dating Spike.

Pairing: fem!reader x Spike

My Writing | Taglist

You’re at Giles’ home, currently being yelled at by Xander, who apparently saw you kissing Spike last night. Instead of just talking to you about it, in private, he called an emergency meeting. Hence the yelling while everyone else just stares at you.

“Spike is a psychotic killer and you’re handing yourself to him on a silver platter. Have you forgotten how he came into our lives? What he was going to do to Buffy for his precious Dru? Who is also nuts in the head, I might add,” Xander practically yells in your face.

“I did not forget, but I’ve used my eyes these past few months. Spike has helped us out more times than one, even when he didn’t need too. Also he hasn’t attacked anyone in months…” you trail off at the end knowing the only reason he hasn’t attacked anyone is because of the chip the Initiative has planted in his head.

Xander scoffs, ready for round two, but Buffy jumps in.

“Xander, you have to admit he’s helped us out… a lot in the past few months. Figuring out who the initiative is, what they do, even fighting demons or helping out with the latest threat. I’m not pro-Spike and I still don’t trust him, but if he makes y/n happy then that’s enough for me. Also I’m the last one to condemn anyone for dating a vampire,” Buffy finishes with a wink towards you.

“Thank you, Buffy,” you whisper.

“So we’re going to ignore the fact he would kill us all if he didn’t have that chip in his head,” Xander asks.

“Xander, last week you admitted that Spike has grown on you. What about all the times you spoke about ‘everything we’ve been through together’ just to try and convince Spike to help out? Don’t you think you’re being hypocritical,” you ask softly.

Xander scoffs but doesn’t make another move to convince you Spike is the devil incarnate.

“And on that note I’m out of here. I’ve got a bed that’s calling my name,” you say before getting up.

“Don’t you mean a certain someone who’s waiting for you in your bed,” Willow quips, wiggling her eyes.

Everyone groans.

-----

When you walk through your front door, you find Spike on your couch watching a movie.

“Home already or you haven't left yet,” you ask the blond man.

“Home for the night,” he replies while smiling at you cheekily.

That smile never fails to make you weak in the knees. You let yourself fall onto the couch next to Spike while letting out the biggest sigh of your life.

“The scooby doo-meeting was that bad, huh,” he asks. “The end of the world again,” he chuckles.

You look at Spike and see the concern shining in his eyes. He puts his arm around you and pulls you close into his side. You let your head fall on his shoulder and nuzzle close.

“The end of the world for Xander,” you scoff.

“What do you mean,” Spike asks.

“You were right that someone was watching us last night. After seeing us together Xander followed us and saw us kiss. Hence the emergency meeting,” you explain.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Spike exclaims while jumping up.

Immediately your hand circles around his wrist. You give a little pull to make him sit down again. He sighs and sits down next to you once more.

“Who does he think he is? He’s dating a vengeance demon for god’s sake,” Spike spits out.

You rub his shoulder trying to calm him down.

“There was a discussion. I defended you. Buffy jumped in. Everyone is more or less okay with it. I’m kind of done talking about this, Spike. Xander’s opinionated. I’ve seen the way he was with Buffy and Angel.”

You shake your head at the end. The uncomfortable memory resurfacing. He was so mean to Buffy. It’s hard dealing with the supernatural world as a human. You realise how fragile your life really is. It causes Xander to act out like this, and it’s not an excuse, but it gives him some leeway when he explodes.

“I still hate that you had to sit through that meeting all by yourself. I should’ve been there. I’m part of this relationship,” he says fiercely.

You take his hand and squeeze.

“You were. There was this little annoying voice that sounded a lot like you edging me on while I was defending you…and calling Xander names I won’t repeat,” you chuckle.

A twinkle lights in Spike’s eyes. He presses his lips firmly on yours. A moan slips past your lips by the sheer force of it all. Slowly you pull away.

“I like you. You like me. And everyone else can suck it,” Spike says before kissing you once more.

[prose-for-hire]

Evol (or, a backwards love story)

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Hey I love your spike x reader fics I was wondering if you could do one were like they both have a crush on eachother and he invites her over to his crypt but it's super fluffy and he makes it all romantic with candles and shit

Reader isn't a big fan of pink but doesn't like hate it or anything (just a heads up in case you love pink (like me) and it takes you out of the story).

Requested by: anon

A/N: Be kind please this is the first fic I've done in ages! Hope this is okay, love 💖

You had been in deep thought, your mind travelling ahead of you as your limbs tried to follow. But your wandering mind had led you down an unknown path. You had taken a strange turn somewhere and found yourself in unchartered territory.

You were at a crossroads, in almost pitch darkness. The streetlights had disappeared a couple of streets ago and you weren’t entirely sure where you were. You were fumbling through the dark now, trying to find something to hold onto, to anchor you.

You found yourself connecting with something, a figure in the shadows. You groaned, the last thing you needed tonight was to get eaten, your top was brand new. You recoiled slightly but a pair of steady hands righted you. He, of course, could see in the dark.

“What’re you doing round these parts, pet?” His voice came from the darkness, retracting his hands, a flame from his lighter ignited so that you could see.

“Got kinda turned around… I’m lost”

“Can’t have that, can we, love? If you’re not careful somethin’ nasty might eat you up” His eyes glinted with amusement, his lips curled slightly in that irresistible way he did. Even when he was being ‘evil’ he was attractive to you. You were doomed to fall for him.

“What did we talk about Spike?”

“Too much?”

“Only a little” you smiled despite yourself, now unable to look up from your feet. You were afraid that you would reveal too much, he could read you like a book. He always had, ever since you met a year ago.

It was tongues and teeth. Blood and sweat. You were backed against the wall, the vibrations from the music pulsing through you. You grasped the black t-shirt that clung to him so perfectly, the vampire you had only heard about.

You knew he and Buffy had faced each other on numerous occasions, you just happened to miss him each time. You had met them in college and had only known of the stories about William the Bloody at this point. But you always liked to judge people for yourself, anyway. And, well, you hadn’t realised how beautiful he was, you had been taken by him as soon as he stomped up to the bar and sulkily ordered a beer.

You heard voices through the crowd, through the headiness of that moment. Voices you recognised. You pulled away, your face a picture; as if you had seen a ghost. You weren’t supposed to be here,

“Go home” He had hissed, covering you as you slid away. Taking Buffy’s attention.

You should have known then he had a soft spot. Or, well, the potential for one. Usually he would have relished the awkwardness of Buffy walking in to find you kissing a vampire. Drinking with demons and beating them at kitten poker. But if he had the chance to do that again he wasn’t going to ruin it by getting the ultimate mood slayer involved, now was he.

But you hadn’t ever had any real time alone since. Sure, sometimes it felt like you were both the only people in the room but there was barely a chance to even allude to what you had done let alone reignite the moment again. Though he of course tried at every moment he got.

“Got have plans, love? My crypt’s only down the way” he spoke softly, almost tentatively if you didn’t know better.

“I’m late. I’m supposed to meet some… friends” You hesitated and you knew he caught it before you looked back into his eyes. Eyes you were slowly being lost in.

“Not those bloody losers again. You’re better than them”

“Those losers are actually my friends”

“Friends that you hide yourself from” He shrugged, not entirely able to drop it. He couldn’t hide his distaste for Buffy and the others.

Despite it all he gestured with his head, offering to take you to your friends. Even though you knew Sunnydale quite well after moving into your dorm a year ago and running around the town many times after (or often away from) demons, you still got lost a lot. It was a kind of running joke amongst the other scoobies.

He lit a cigarette as you rounded the corner, only pausing to offer you one which you declined with a soft smile. A smile that made him want to drop to his knees and declare his undying love for you. It pained him, how soft he was for you.

He shoved the other hand in the pocket of his duster, jaw tensing as he saw your friends speaking rapidly, apparently concerned about something. Willow noticed you first.

“We thought you’d been all ookified, we were worried!” She flung herself around you with a big smile of relief.

“You got lost, huh?” Buffy said with a smile, which quickly dropped when she noticed the company you were in.

“Yeah, Spike helped me get my bearings. Thanks, again” You grinned, despite Xander and Buffy’s distaste. Anya patted your head a little patronisingly at your habit of getting yourself lost.

“Anytime, pet”

“Yeah, right, evil dead is only good for being evil… and dead”

“Not that I’m not enjoying the boy’s wit, but I’ll be off now” He addressed only you, hoping to keep the barbs at his expense from the group to a minimum. Someone muttered something distasteful about Spike, which was of course in his earshot, but he didn’t turn back around.

“He’s, like, the lowest of the low.” someone agreed, shaking her head at the figure walking away.

You weren’t sure why that moment was the moment. Why you spoke something that had been so safely unspoken.

“Spike! Spike, wait-”

“Y/n, what’re you doing?!” your friends called after you, still in earshot as Spike ditched his cigarette and swung around to face you.

“Love, you go and do the friendship thing with the meddlin’ kids, okay? I’d rather stake myself than spend an evening with them”

“I know, I was wondering if the offer’s still on that is, well, I’m free tomorrow night”

He put both hands in his duster, rocking on the balls of his feet and looking down. It was as if he thought you were being cruel to him. Taking him up on his offer just to hurt him by rejecting him in the next breath with all your friends watching. He had to know you better than that, surely.

You reached for his arm, willing him to feel what you felt. Know what you knew. That you and him were meant for each other, that this chance that you were trying to take meant a lot. For someone you had kissed so passionately before it was strange how nervous you were suddenly at even grazing his skin.

“After sunset, tomorrow at your crypt?” You asked softly, though the vulnerability in your voice bled through. He saw it, he saw that your intentions were pure. There were some gasps and some vague unimpressed whispering from your friends behind you but you couldn’t bring yourself to take notice.

Instead you waited with bated breath for his answer. You knew he had offered earlier but there was always the chance he was doing it to tease you. That he had no interest in you. That he was playing with you, looking for something quick and easy. You could do that, of course you could, if it meant being close with him. But it may just break your heart beyond recognition.

This purgatory, which only lasted a second, felt like it lasted hours. Your grip on him tightened, as if you were afraid he would slip away from you.

He nodded, to anyone else it probably looked as if he wasn’t bothered. What he didn’t know was that you could read him in the way he did for you. You saw the slight upturn of his mouth before it disappeared, you noticed the way his eyes searched you with wonder for a fraction of a moment. You knew then, for sure, he felt for you as deeply as you had started to fall for him. Everything you had learned about him you held close, collecting it as the most valuable treasures.

You arrived the next night a minute after the sun set and promptly knocked on the door of Spike’s crypt. You could hear some scuffling about from behind the door and a lot of a British accent muttering ‘bloody bollocks’ every so often which made you smile softly.

You waited patiently until he swung the door open, allowing you to walk in. You gasped, he had transformed the main level of his crypt for the evening. There were candles everywhere, on every single available surface and surrounding the sofa where there was a couple of blankets piled up and a stack of VHS tapes.

There were wilted roses that had shed their petals all over the floor beside the TV set and you tried to ignore the high probability that these came from a few of the graves surrounding the crypt. Stuck haphazardly to the walls were pink and red hearts made from crepe paper and various strips hanging about.

I mean, it was a huge fire risk but you tried to ignore this fact as you appreciated his scattered decorations. You assumed that Spike was ensuring you were aware that he thought of this as a date.

“How was your night with America’s most haunted?” Spike asked, you could tell he was genuinely interested if you had a nice evening after he left you at the Bronze.

You told him everything in complete detail, you were a keen storyteller and he adored this about you. You spoke in such detail that he could picture himself there beside you as the night played out.

“Drink, pet?”

“Please”

You looked around as he started rummaging around with bottles and glasses. You read the words on some of the hearts, your brow furrowing slightly.

“EVOL? I think it’s spelt-”

“No, love, it was meant to be- they’re from the craft store. They, well, I didn’t want it to scare you off now did I?” He turned the heart around, the word was actually ‘love’. He hadn’t wanted you to think he was coming on too strong so he had hidden the word. Though the rose petals and the various pink and red crafts might well have done that if you hadn’t realised how deeply you felt for him.

You laughed, you couldn’t help it. You hadn’t been sure if he was making sure that all this romantic stuff didn’t take away from him being bad. Telling you he was ‘evil’.

He passed you a glass, different from usual where he would just drink straight from the bottle. You were surprised to note that it was your favourite drink. It was incredibly endearing that he had learned this about you, or perhaps it was his favourite and you just had that in common.

The glow of the candlelight accentuated his features, casting shadows from his cheekbones. You felt yourself leaning into him as he spoke animatedly, it was entirely involuntary. When you thought about it, you had done everything in reverse. You were tentatively courting after sharing a much more passionate moment the night you properly met. You much preferred it this way though, in some ways it cemented now just how much Spike had grown to care for you through the stolen moments you had together through the year.

Quick glances and lingering touches. The way he had thrown himself in front of a demon to ensure you would be safe. The way he always offered to walk you home, even if he was shot down every time by the slayer. He always made jokes in the hope that you would laugh.

The evening was lovely, you shared drinks and watched films together, while Spike made biting commentary on each scene. You were wrapped in a blanket while he stayed room temperature. He sat a little more rigidly than usual, seemingly unable to relax. He wanted the night to be perfect. He was concerned he might say something wrong, something a little too murderous and off-putting.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to the film. He had done everything to try and prove he was a man worthy of your love. You could sense he was holding back but you loved him for who he was, the flaws wrapped into the thread of his personality were just as important to you.

“I really like you, Spike. You don’t need to impress me, you know that right? I’m already yours, if you’d let me be” You spoke barely above a whisper. He turned to you, searching your face before a smile grew slowly on his lips. It was a smile you had only ever seen him give to you.

“You’re tellin’ me I can take all this sodding pink bollocks off my walls now then?”

“I mean, it’s a real improvement from the cobwebs but it’s not really my colour,” You grinned, pressing your lips to his quickly before pulling away.

You leaned against him as the night progressed, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. He shifted as you moved down the sofa so that you could comfortably rest against him. He inhaled, savouring your scent. It felt like home. He closed his eyes, focusing on your heartbeat thrum steadily. You were truly here, by his side.

Your body was made to fit beside his, you knew this as if it was fact. You couldn’t imagine a future where you wouldn’t hold each other. Or share moments such as this. The warmth from the candles and the care and attention that Spike continued to show you told you that his feelings at their core were clearly no act, his execution had been slightly exaggerated only because he hadn’t really dated in the usual way for a good few decades.

He slid his arm along the headrest behind you and you settled into watch the next movie. After a moment you realised his eyes were still trained on you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. When you looked at him, giving him a quizzical look, he just gestured back at the screen with his head a soft smile on his face.

If this was the first proper date, you were looking forward to the rest. In fact, as his arm snaked around you and pulled you close, you were not sure you would ever be ready to leave.

[specialagentlokitty]

Spike x reader - before I laid eyes on you

Sitting under the street lamp, you smiled to yourself as you pulled the pen away from the notebook you were drawing in.

You had been at it for a couple of hours, your wrist hurt a little bit, but since you hadn’t had a break that was to be expected.

What wasn’t to be expected was the sense you had from behind you that there was somebody creeping up on you.

“Hello.”

You heard whoever it was stop.

“How did you know I was there?”

“I know many things, just like I know who you are Spike, I know you’re here to kill me.”

Spike walked around the bench, and he sat down in next to you, leaning back as he lit a cigarette, resting an arm on the back of the bench.

You didn’t look at him, you simply just went back drawing in your notebook.

“You’re not even going to run away? You know that does take all the fun out of killing you pet.”

“I know I would never stand a chance trying to run from you.”

He hummed, nodding his head as he smirked a little bit.

“Is that so?”

He glanced down at the notebook, leaning over to look at what you were doing and you covered it.

Reaching up you placed a finger on his forehead and pushed him back.

“Oi, don’t touch the merchandise.”

“It’s not ready yet, if you want to look you have to wait.”

He huffed a little, and you smiled, going back to your drawing.

“Is this a trap? Am I being set up?”

You shook your head.

“No, they don’t even know I’m out. It’s the only time I can find time. Plus, if it were a trap I’d be an easy hostage so I don’t see any situation in how you can’t win.”

He smirked a little again, nodding his head in agreement.

You glanced up at the building in front of you, studying the design, the structure, the colours.

Looking back at your notebook you carried on, hands moving on their own, as if you had drawn this exact building a million times, burned in your brain.

Spike watched you intrigued.

You made no effort to run away from him, no effort to scream or fight or try save your life in any kind of way.

It made him curious, and it took all the fun out of him wanting to kill you because for him it was all a game, the thrill of the chase, an instinct all hunters had, but you didn’t seem to have the instinct to flee.

You put your put your pen into your bag, and you slowly tore the page from book, and you set it on the bench.

“So, you made me pause my killing so you were able to finish a drawing?” He scoffed.

He picked it up, and he studied it.

It looked so real, as if you had picked up the building from the street and crammed it into the tiny page of a book.

“Intriguing, I wonder if you’ll want to draw what it will look like when I snap your neck.”

He looked up and you were gone.

“What the hell?”

Spike stood up, trying to find any sign that you were somewhere still around, or that you had even been there but there was none aside from the paper in his hands.

Spike flicked his cigarette across the e street and he began to walk up to the building.

You really hadn’t missed a spot of detail when you were drawing it, everything was there, from small cracks in some of the windows to the emblem at the front of the building.

That wasn’t the first time Spike met you, but it was the first time he was intrigued by you, and not in a way that made him want to kill you.

He noticed that when the he was fighting with Buffy or the others you weren’t there.

They made sure to keep you as far away as possible, but then as the nights came he would find you accidentally around the town.

He would just be on the hunt and he would stumble across you just sitting there, in your own little world as you drew something new and his attention would be focused on you.

And tonight was no different, he found you sitting at a table outside some late open cafe, a cup of coffee in front of you, your notebook on the table as you looked around.

Spike slipped into the seat in front of you.

“Hello love.”

“Should I be concerned for the amount of times you come to visit me?” You asked.

“Well, you should know better than wonder alone at night, especially in a town like this. Never know when a big bad will jump at you.”

You gave a small shrug, pulling your scarf a little tighter around you.

Spike watched intensely, and he leant back in his chair.

“Well, you seem to appear most nights, yet you still haven’t killed me.”

“I will one day, after all, it’s no fun if I kill you right away.”

You let out a soft laugh, picking up your cup so you could take a drink, then your turned your attention back to your drawing so you could finish it.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

“Depends on the question.”

Spike took your cup so he could drink some coffee and he set it back down, picking up the menu to browse the boring food.

“Why won’t you kill me?”

Spike looked up at you, slowly setting the menu back down.

“Do you want me to kill you?”

He didn’t say it with excitement, you could hear the curiosity in his tone, along with confusion.

“If I ask you to would you?”

“Maybe, might sire you, that could be fun.”

You shook your head at him.

“No sire, just pure death. As in nothing after, I won’t wake up again.”

“Now talk like this concerns a bloke love.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

Ripping the page from the book you handed it over to him and stood up, finishing your coffee before you began to make your leave.

Spike quickly got up, catching up to you in a few long strides and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Ah, ah, you’re not running off that easily. You can’t just say something like that and not expect follow up questions.”

“Please Spike, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine.”

You carried on walking and Spike followed you, not saying a single word he simply just looked at you every so often.

Truth be told he would have killed you the first chance he got, now he didn’t want to, even if he could that thought never crossed his mind, but you didn’t need to know that, or about the chip.

You just had to think he was the same big bad.

“I’m not quite sure that was an invitation for you to follow me.” You said.

“I don’t need an invitation.”

You hummed a little bit, clasping your hands behind you as you turned around to look at him.

You smiled softly, walking backwards and he rose a brow at you.

“You can only go so far.”

“I can be rather convincing if I do say so myself, I’m sure I can convince your parents to invite me in.”

“You could try, that might be a bit hard if you live alone.”

Walking up to your house, you opened the door and stepped inside, grinning at Spike as he stood outside.

He wore an unamused look on his face, watching as you sat down on the stairs.

“Now that just isn’t fair love, don’t I get an invite?”

“Hm, I don’t think so. You’re nice company outside but at least u know I can just leave you at the door.”

He placed a hand on his chest, leaning on the doorframe.

“Ouch, now that hurts love.”

You smiled softly, and Spike looked around the hallway, all framed paintings and pictures that looked exactly like the ones you did.

You got up, turning the light on so he could see better, and it worked.

He could see better, a lot better

Now you were out of the dim streetlights, into some bright light that actually illuminated things Spike could see you better.

He could see you clearly.

“You’re blind..” he said quietly.

You smiled weakly, nodding your head as you walked back over to the steps to sit down.

“Not fully, mostly. I can still see a bit, my eyes are sensitive to the light, but I found a few spells that can help me navigate around.”

“A witch?”

“Yeah.”

Spike looked at you, it wasn’t obvious to anybody that you were blind, but he could see the blank look in your eyes, you looked at him but you didn’t.

He would’ve thought maybe you were just awkward at eye contact, but he could see it, the faint gloss that covered the outside of your iris, slowly creeping.

There was something else.

A sickly paleness to your skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.

You sighed, resting your head on the wall behind you, and you looked over at the open door.

Spike was sat in your doorway, in his hands the new picture you had made of a deer, and it was so lifelike just like all the others.

“Cancer, in the brain, the uh.. the blindness might be a side effect of the tumour but they can’t be sure.”

“What do you think?”

“Maybe it’s making it worse yes, but I’ve always had problems with my eyes, ever since I was a child. Either way I’ll go blind.”

Spike nodded his head, looking up from the drawing.

You still held a small smile on your face.

“Do they know?” He asked.

Your smile a little.

“No. Spike you can’t tell them, they don’t need to know. Not with everything going on with you know.. well.. you… demons..”

“Right, right. It would put a damper on everything considering they think I’m just missing.”

You nodded.

A small silence fell over the pair of you.

“How long?”

You said nothing.

“How long do you have?”

You let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know, I’ve been offered surgery to try remove the tumours.”

“Have you accepted?”

“No.”

Spike stood up, slamming his hand on the doorway.

“Well why the bloody hell not?!”

“Either it works, and I still go blind, I die on that operating table, or I die of cancer. All three sound like rather poor choices.”

“But there’s a chance you could survive, you said it yourself you found a way to make it more bearable with the blindness.”

You walked over, sitting against the door and he sat back against the frame on the otherside looking at you.

“It will most likely come back.”

“Then.. then they cut it out again, they keep doing that.”

“Spike, they can only do it so many times before they stop.”

He furrowed his brows, eyes staring into yours.

“You’ll still die…”

“Yeah.”

He put the drawing in to his pocket, and he rested his head against the wood.

“That’s why you asked if I would kill you. Because you don’t want to die to the tumour, at least if I did it you would have control in your death.”

You nodded your head, and a soft smile gracing your face once more.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze coming through the door.

“Very well.”

You opened your eyes.

“I will do it under one condition.”

You titled your head a little.

“What’s that?”

“You agree to the procedure, if it fails then you hang on for as long as possible, then when the time is right you ask and I will give you a quick and painless death.”

“No resurrection?”

“None, just death.”

You agreed to his terms, and the following day you went back to the hospital to speak to your doctor about the procedure.

Spike was there, lurking in the hallways away from the sunlight, and when the door to your room was opened he stepped aside and waited.

You closed the blinds and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

“Well?”

“They ran some tests, they need to take it out now, and I’ll be hospital bound for a while.”

“Right, you should call your friends. In the event that you die of course.”

You laughed weakly.

“The doctor is doing it, I guess that means I won’t be seeing you around huh?”

Spike sat on the edge of your bed.

“I’ll be around.”

You smiled, and reached up, gently touching the side of his face and he said nothing about it.

You could tell his was smiling though, from the little crinkles at the corner of his eye.

“Thank you.”

Spike got up, leaning forward he pressed his lips to your forehead and took a step back.

“Good luck love..”

With that he was gone.

He hasn’t told you about the chip in his head, that even if he wanted too he wasn’t able to hurt you, but he definitely didn’t want to hurt you.

He couldn’t hurt you, it would hurt him, but if it came down to it and it was what you wanted then no amount of pain in his skull would stop him from granting you that wish

[am-i-the-one]

Smoking and Vampires Kill (Reader x Spike)

'A sigh escaped your mouth as you remember the feeling of being kissed by Spike and exhaling smoke. You knew if you didn't quit smoking and break up with Spike they would have both killed you in the end.'

Summary: Your vampire ex-boyfriend visits your house when he hears you've quit smoking to try and tempt you into giving in to both.

Word Count: 2048

Ao3 link: Ao3

At midnight on New Year's Eve you walked straight into the bathroom and flushed your last pack of cigarettes. While your heart leapt up into your throat for an instant as the panic started you breathed out a sigh of relief. Trembling, you washed your hands and went to go re-join the party and find your new boyfriend in the crowd.

It's Winter break and you've been back home from studying at UC Sunnydale for two weeks now. Coincidently, that's also the number of days gone without smoking. Counting them off like prison scratches on the wall. You've always wanted to quit smoking and it didn't help when you met Spike who would chain-smoke indefinitely without the death anxiety, for obvious reasons. You first met Spike outside the Bronze one evening when he asked you for a light. Not thinking anything of it, you said he could keep it remembering all the Clippers in your draw at home. It was a novelty Halloween design with a vampire motif and the words 'blood sucker' wrapped around it. You never liked it, vampires were never your favourite monster. He looked at you credulously, with his eyes opened and slightly frowning at the suggestion. His facial expression soon relaxed and he thanked you and said he'd maybe see you inside. You thought he was strange as he blew smoke rings and poked is finger through them while looking up wistfully at the night sky.

You would only ever see him loitering outside the Bronze back alley. Since you spent half the night going inside and outside to smoke you'd end up catching him before he disappeared into the night. Soon enough, he became the sole reason you went to the Bronze. How pathetic, you thought, wanting to shiver in the cold while waiting for a stranger to appear, only to exchange a few words, maybe share a cigarette and then say goodbye.

One night you were warming yourself up with your lighter after crushing out your second cigarette waiting for Spike. You didn't think he was going to show until you turned around to go inside and there he was, brooding over the top of you and grinning manically.

"Hey Y/N! I was just looking for you. What are you doing outside? You must be freezing. Here let's go back inside."

He shuffled you indoors and bought you a hot mulled wine to warm you up. All the time shaking his head and complaining you were going to catch a cold. You moved naturally with him and followed his lead. This was the first time you had ever even seen him inside the Bronze, let alone be in his company with others around. You both sat down at a table in the back where it was away from the main stage.

"I haven't seen you in a while" you said, instantly regretting admitting you noticed.

"Yeah, I've been busy," Spike said raising his eyebrows, obviously surprised. "But I had my lucky lighter with me to remind me of you," showing you the vampire lighter out of his pocket and playing with it on the table. This made you smile that he remembered. You talked all night together until closing and he walked you home, after insisting, saying there's bad people lurking around this time of night.

It would only be a few weeks into the relationship that he would reveal his true identity as a vampire. You immediately ended the relationship in your head when his face turned into that of a beast. You weren't scared at the change in his appearance and demeanour. You only wanted to leave the Bronze and never see him again. This was three months ago and you hadn't seen him since. Not even when you braved to go our to the Bronze a few weeks after the break-up. You slowly forgot, or pretended you had forgotten, about the mystery vampire when you went to UC Sunnydale. What with all the studying, coffee and cigarettes consuming your brain you could hardly think straight let alone remember basic English. But, now you were back home and the memories consumed you. Perhaps, you thought, you had unconsciously quit smoking to forget Spike.

It was midnight, day 15, and you were kept awake by the intense cravings and nausea. You felt dizzy and the whole world was spinning when you rested your head. So, you switched on your bedside light and tried some breathing exercises. In and out. It will all go away soon, you thought. You stared out your bedroom window and remembered all the memories you had with Spike. You both had stood huddled under his leather jacket while it rained with his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you shared a cigarette. With your faces almost touching, all it took was a slight turn and that was the first time you both kissed. The cigarette forgotten about, laid burning half finished on the ground outside the Bronze. A sigh escaped your mouth as you remember the feeling of being kissed by Spike and exhaling smoke. You knew if you didn't quit smoking and break up with Spike they would have both killed you in the end. There's nothing in this world that compares to having something you love which kills you in the process. You feel both weak and strong being defeated because it means you have something to overcome.

These were the thoughts racing through your head as the clock moved between the early hours of the morning. You heard your parents snoring down the hallway and closed your eyes trying to isolate your dad's breathing and snoring. This grounded you in the moment until you heard a sudden sound outside of a lighter spark and an inhale that was followed by a familiar scratchy cough and a curse word. Paralyzed, you sat frozen on your bed while your eyes bursted open like a cat's, hair sticking up on end. You drifted to your windowsill, hiding behind the curtain and peeping outside you saw Spike standing below your window. He was leaning up against a tree in your front yard and looking straight into your bedroom. Flustered you backed away from the window. It's too dark to tell but you don't think he looked angry or upset. Honestly, it looked like he was just minding his own business, loitering in the middle of the night. Except, he was staring into your window so he obviously hasn't forgotten about you. You remember he is unable to enter the house since you never formally invited him inside. But, that didn't make him go away as there he stood waiting outside your house.

Knowing that you would be unable to sleep unless you confronted him about his stalker behaviour you returned to the window. You opened both curtains and sat down on your window sill bench wrapping the blanket around you. Breathing a deep breath, you opened your window and finally looked down at Spike.

"I had nearly given up," he said waving his lit cigarette. "I thought I was going to have to smoke a whole packet before you'd open up."

"What are you doing here Spike?" you ask, grimacing as you see his bleached blonde hair shine in the moonlight. God, how did that ever attract you.

"A little birdy told me that you've quit smoking and I've just come to give my congrats. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" He asks, grinning innocently and putting his hands up in the air. He crushes the cigarette on the ground and proceeds to light another one. "You see, I've tried quitting every turn of the century but nothing's seemed to work and I was thinking, since you're doing so well and all, you'd let me in on the secret".

This is unbelievable, you thought. He's really going to stand there all night, smoking a packet of cigarettes, trying to get inside your head. The wind rustled the leaves above Spike. Maybe if it picks up it would blow out his cigarette or at least drown out his voice. You looked into Spike's eyes as he raised his eyebrows waiting for your response.

"If you really want to know Spike, sometimes to kill one addiction you have to kill another. Like, if you always smoke when you have a drink you might have to quit both. At least for me, breaking up with you has solved all kinds of problems in my life."

"Ouch that hurts, love. But I bet that's what you wanted. Though I know you don't mean a word. I'll throw you up a smoke, if you want. Must be craving one like mad stuck in your room watching me enjoy one." He said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. You hated to admit it but he was right. You would have liked a cigarette but you couldn't bow down and accept one from Spike of all people.

"Sure and while I'm at it I think I want to get back together, don't you?"

"Cool it with the sarcasm pet, I'm just teasing you. Honestly, I want to commend you for giving it up. There's no point ruining your body when it's your only one. But I've been missing you lately. You never come to the Bronze anymore."

Why doesn't he just start crying, you thought. If you would have known he'd be this clingy you would never have spoken to him. Maybe all those times you waited in the back alley for him, he was also waiting for the right time to walk up to you. You had never thought about that before. How long could he have been staring at me, watching me, waiting to come up to me and have a smoke. It creeped you out to think of yourself as prey and Spike the predator. But that's what he was, at the end of the day. He had never raised his hand or drawn your blood, but that doesn't mean he wasn't trying to kill you. He was toying with you, making you believe you were in love with him. You thought you could never love another person except for Spike. But, you had proved that wrong having been in a more than happy relationship for months now.

You no longer needed those things that were silently killing you. Neither Spike or cigarettes were welcome into your life anymore. You stared down at Spike, smoking his third cigarette now catching a glimpse of your old vampire lighter. If only you could have known how ironic it was when you handed it over to him, he must have loved it. Reflecting back on when you first started smoking in your teenage years, you didn't know smoking was going to corrupt your body and become an irrepressible addiction. You were naïve and thought it would lessen the monotony of everyday life and make you more mature. The same was true about going out with Spike, an older guy who happened to be much older than he looks. You know you shouldn't blame yourself for what you know now but it's hard when you're consumed with deep seated regret. Especially because your body desires and craves both Spike and smoking.

"Goodbye, Spike." you whisper, just loud enough to see his face start and mouth open.

You smile sincerely looking down at Spike remembering the times you had together. The nights he'd stay out with you after closing hours and talk with you all night. But, Spike is a double-edged sword and someone who, in the end, would kill you if he had the chance. You close the curtains not turning back and curl up into bed imagining his arm around you as you smoked together in the rain. It felt so real, like he was there in bed beside you, Though you knew it was impossible you curled up next to him in his smoked-stained leather jacket and felt his arms wrap around you.

"I guess that's another addiction I haven't gotten over." you say as you breath a sigh of release. Turning out your lamp, you toss and turn trying to sleep while memories of Spike lighting a cigarette and handing it over to you with a grin churns in your brain.

[ficmesideways]

Request for Anonymous Gif Source: Daughter / Giles

Imagine Giles finding out he has a dhampir daughter

------- Imagine -------

“So when exactly were you...” He made some unsure hand motions causing you to sigh at the question.

“I’ll be seventeen in two days.” You answered and leaned on a nearby bookshelf as you watched your supposed father; who was apparently a renowned vampire slayer watcher, got completely wasted at the prospect of an unknown and slightly undead daughter.

“Seventeen.” He giggled and took anther swig of a drink as a blonde woman maybe a few years older than you and several others came bursting though his front door calling his name.

“About time y’all showed up, he “secretly” texted you all about 25 minutes ago.” You said making air quotes with your fingers moving from the bookshelf to sit on the couch in front of you to make yourself seem less like a target.

“Giles?” The blonde women asked, a question behind the name before she took him in. “Are you drunk?”

“Quite a bit actually.” He replied. “Buffy, may I introduce you to my….my…my daughter.”

In unison the blonde, Buffy, and the rest of the group that had entered with her all turned to look at you and asked. “What?!”

[gemstone-roses]

Giles X reader

Me and @my-head-is-an-animal were talking and agreed what needed to be done about the lack of fics for Giles. So here we are.

Thankyou so much @my-head-is-an-animal for reading this over and giving me some fab advice!

Summary: Giles helps you through an anxiety attack.

Word count: 1k ish.

Warnings: contains descriptions of an anxiety attack, loneliness, vague mentions of how people and life can be unkind sometimes. Heavy hurt comfort vibes I can't stop thinking about being comforted by this man okay.

A:N- everyone experiences anxiety differently and this fic will reflect my experiences, but I hope this brings comfort to anyone reading this, as it did for me when writing it. As always 18+ only thankyou! This took SO long to write so please be nice and kind thanku 😊.

Giles knew immediately he liked you. There was something about you, something, endearing.

You walked in one evening after seeing the assistant required poster on the town noticeboard and when Giles had asked what qualifications you had you responded simply and almost nervously, 'I love books'.

He'd held out his hand and chuckled 'your hired'.

You'd become fast friends with the British librarian ever since. Helping him get books for his students… and the buffy gang, you soon became familiar with the layout of the library.

You spent your evenings curled up in the chair, books piled lazily on the floor, and before long you didn't even need to hesitate to remember the shelf when giles or willow asked for a specific book.

You stayed late most nights, Giles would turn off the main lights and make you a cup of tea while you read and he researched. He looked adorable with his glasses hanging out his mouth when he was thinking .He'd hand you the steaming mug, saucer too, because he's Giles, with a smile each time.

It's been a busy week, every night you've stayed late with giles and buffy and co to help deal with some demon or other.

Finally, the demon was dealt with and buffy and everyone left to have some sort of socialising after a night of battling. You just want to curl up with a book, you've felt off all day and nothing has quite snuffed out that feeling. Usually when you felt like this you'd curl up under the thickest blankets you could find in your place and you'd fiddle with the chain on your neck.

It was a simple piece of jewellery, the small circle hanging in the middle of the chain contained your favourite quote from one of your favourite books in tiny writing. It brought you comfort whenever your hands reached for it. The words brought you comfort.

You'd always found more comfort and affection in books than in people. In the past, life or rather, some people in it, had not been kind to you.

And when that happened, you found your escape in books.

"Tea?" Giles asks, sighing, sending a small smile your way.

"Mm no thanks" you shook your head. You shivered slightly.

"Are you alright?" Giles asks, eyebrows raised, you never turn down a cup of tea from him, it worried him slightly, but he pressed on.

"Mm, just tired" you assured him with a small smile.

Giles is unconvinced.

"Right" he says, and he does that little nod that he does when he's not really paying attention when he's researching and someone talks to him, except this time he is paying attention.

"I'll just put these books back and then I'll get off for the night" you say, your not looking at him though, almost past him. standing up and gathering the books with one hand, the other hand wraps around the chain hanging round your neck, twisting it round your fingers.

"Y/n?" Giles asks, and you're far too concentrated on holding onto the pile of books in your hand you don't notice he's right in front of you.

"Giles" you say, finally looking up at him, your sure that his piercing but concerned gaze can see right through you, right through to your heart hammering in your chest.

Giles takes the books out of your hand gently and places them on top of the shelf.

His hand comes back and lingers on your arm.

"What's the matter?" And he asks so softly you think you might break down then.

Your hand goes back to fiddle with the chain around your neck, it's the only thing you know for a fact brings you even an ounce of comfort ,but Giles reaches for your hand instead, pulling it away, he closes his hand, which is much bigger than yours, around it.

It's a gesture your unfamiliar with.

"I- I'm fine" you whisper

Giles frowns, his hand still holding yours.

"It's alright" he whispers, and the hand that's on your arm squeezes

You close your eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"Hey look at me" Giles says softly.

"m sorry, I don't, i cant- " you go dizzy, your breathing becomes faster, your head spins.

"Breathe,y/n" Giles says. His tone is laced with concern as he looks at you, your chest heaves as he moves his hand to your chin.

"Y/n, i got you" he says softly, his hand swipes at a tear running down your cheek.

"No" you whisper, and Giles frowns again but this time its because he can see you're not used to this kind of… affection, of this kind of.. comfort. And Giles feels a sudden pang of sadness at that,and then an overwhelming urge to make sure you never feel so alone again.

"Come here" he whispers, pulling you into his tight embrace.

You wrap your arms around him like your clinging to a life raft.

"There you go, I got you love" he comforts.

Giles holds you until you've stopped shaking.

"What can I do?" He asks after a moment, still not letting you go.

"im cold" you whisper,

"and tired" you added.

"Come on" he says, ushering you over to the couch in his little office.

Giles shrugs off his jacket and places it over you, when he's satisfied your sufficiently tucked in with his jacket, he sits in the corner of the couch, pulling you close to him.

you bring your knees up to your chest as you curl into him.

His fingers move slowly up and down your arm, comforting. Safe.

"Giles?" You whisper, and he stops and moves slightly.

"Hmm?" He says

"Thankyou" you say softly, and you wrap your arm around his waist and drift off in his embrace.

[witchthewriter]

What would spike from BTVS be like with a tall or chubby gf? Not necessarily feminine either.. more like faith than buffy!

I think Spike has lived long enough to see through the typical 'beauty.' He's lived through centuries of different fashion trends and beauty standards, so the fact that his s/o is plus-sized and tall wouldn't faze him one bit.

Spike would work well with someone who has a dominant side to their personality. And if you're more masculine - then that works too.

He wouldn't vibe with someone that was a pushover, or meek. Even though Dru seemed that way, she knew exactly what she wanted. So, your masculine vibe would most definitely keep him excited -

𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒛𝒆:

・Spike is just down bad for you. Like he's completely and utterly obsessed with your entire being. He cannot fathom that you don't like yourself? Your thoughts, the way you think, the way you smile, the sound of your voice - he's absolutely in love with you.

・So when he finds out that you're insecure about your weight, he's completely shocked

"Love, you are a star that has fallen from the skies. I don't care how soppy that sounds. But you shine."

・So Spike would do things to remind you of that

・He'd compliment you every single day

・He'd gas you up with each outfit, and make sure he's at least made you blush (would probably make you model different outfits for him)

・Would stare down anyone who made you feel uncomfortable (and if they said anything ... well ... they no longer breathe)

・He'd be really great at making you feel defended and secure. Weight is a topic that people look down on. We've been taught that fat is a dirty word - that being overweight is shameful. But it's not that simple. And being fat isn't shameful. It isn't wrong.

Plus, your ancestors have a huge role in how your body turns out. They'd be really impressed because you would be able to survive the long winter.

・Spike would most definitely bring up that point; that your ancestors would be proud.

・Every night he would kiss you and tell you his favourite parts of your physical body

・Like a mantra, he'd repeat how much he loves you

・And he would go all around the world to find the best clothes for you - since finding quality plus size clothes is really difficult (and expensive)

・Would probably learn how to sew just to make you custom items

𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍:

・Your height would excite him

・He'd love if you were taller than him

・It would be a dynamic that he's not familiar with, but would grow (pun intended) to really like

・Even if you're a few inches taller than he is, then he would make height jokes all the time

"How's the weather up there, love?"

・He'd be obsessed with your legs -

・Would love watching you do that shoe trend where you try on different shoes (like the one from tik tok)

[prettypinkporkchop]

Willow Rosenberg x fem reader

I Answered That Already

It's a regular night for you at the Bronze. You're sitting down at a table with your friends that you've had since high school. Buffy, Xander, and Willow.

You've had a crush on Willow since you can remember. But she's had a thing for Xander and then got with Wolfie Oz. You can't tell if she's into you or not, but you sure do make her flustered a lot.

The music plays and you watch people dancing. Buffy elbows you softly to catch your attention. You turn to her, confused.

"Day dreaming again?" She smiles.

"Yeah. I seem to do that often." You smile back. You turn your head to see Willow and Xander are gone.

"They went to grab drinks." She smirks. "Still got the hots for Willow?"

"Shut up." You roll your eyes.

"Come on. You're hot! Just hit on her. Well, she hasn't caught on. Just tell her!" Buffy takes a sip from her straw.

"Mehhhh. I'm not drunk enough for that." You never really get drunk enough to spill the beans. You've kept it that way on purpose. You don't shut up when you're drunk.

"Willow is a witch. If she wanted to find out, she would." Buffy says. "You haven't made it clear enough." She winks.

Before you can reply, Willow and Xander sit back down.

"Alright." Xander sighs and places a drink in front of you. "Your second one." He laughs.

"Woooww, slow down!" Willow jokes at the fact that they're ahead of you.

But that's how it always goes. "Ha ha. Very funny." You smile.

A slow song starts to play. Buffy looks at you with a serious face and then tilts toward Willow.

"Willow, wanna dance with y/n?" Xander smiles at you innocently.

"Uh.. I uh.. y-yes. Sure. Y-yes." Willow turns a deep red.

You gulp and stand up, holding your hand out for her. "Want to dance with me?" You ask.

"I answered that already." She furrows her eyebrows and then smiles, taking your hand.

---

"Light as a feather, stiff as a board isn't even real." She laughs, staring at the witch book in front of her.

You cross your legs on her bed, sitting across from her. "Well, you make me stiff as a board." You joke about a penis that you don't have.

She looks up at you from the book and raises an eyebrow. "If that's what you have, then I change my mind.'' She starts to laugh.

"You haven't even kissed me yet. How could you change your mind about nothing?" You cross your arms.

She freezes up and blushes.

"Awe.. is someone shy?" You pull the book from her.

She nods her head with her doe eyes.

You grab her chin and press your lips on hers. An instant spark that has been inside of you since school ignited in you. Her lips are so soft. The kiss feels so natural. You pull away from her and her face is just in shock.

"I think I'm lesbian." She whispers.

[evieelyzabethh]

Sugar and Spike

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: after a night of patrol goes wrong, Spike starts noticing some changes in himself, mainly that Buffy's sweetest friend won't leave his mind and that she would never look at him the same if she knew what he wanted to do to her.

warnings: smut!!! a smidge of yandereness, kinda a sex or die fic, possessive spike, handjob, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), praise kink, biting/marking (mentions of blood), a little bit of spanking, overstimulation, riding, fingering, veryyy little plot, and I think thats about it.

In hindsight, they should've kept a better eye on him. It was an odd night of patrolling, the usual gaggle of vampires being a demon or two this time around. Big tall thing that appeared out of nowhere and left as soon as it came. Spike, always with little regard for the consequences of his actions, ran right in. Ran so hard he went right through the demon as it went into smoke. He breathed it in before going into a coughing fit, as if he could feel it in his nose and lungs, spreading in his chest like a vine that pulled everything impossible tight before releasing him like he was never in its grasp . Red flag one.

It fell on him like rain, some clumping into what looked like pink sparkles in his hair, on his jacket, his worn boots. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away expecting to see it gunked together, but there was nothing there. It felt like his hair had been hit by my mist, slightly damp and cool. It seeped into his exposed skin, adhering itself into a pink sheen which also disappeared after only a few minutes. He remembered trying to brush it off, expecting it to feel wet but it was just slick. It was admittedly infuriating, especially since the feeling wouldn't go away. Red flag two.

“Buffy!” He shouted, rubbing his hands on his jeans as if it was going to wipe away the phantom feeling, but his complaints were met with apathy. 

“There’s nothing there, Spike.” A groan bubbled in his chest. 

“Astute observation, Slayer, but it feels like something’s there.” You were there beside him, something that would’ve gone unnoticed had he not been hit with your scent as your fingers brushed against his hand. He pulled away quickly out of instinct, not as subtle as he would’ve liked to because you noticed and scampered off in between Buffy and Giles. The distance between you and him got larger and the two of you talked about a mall trip you had planned and Willow was the only one to stick with him. She humored him, allowing him to shower at her place and taking a sample of skin only to find nothing. No residue, nothing abnormal, nothing had changed at all. Red flag three.

But he was sure it was fine. Nothing had really changed. You had been a bit cautious though.

You were prone to worrying, and he couldn't blame you. There was a lot to worry about when your best friends hunted demons and one of them was a literal creature of the night. You worried about Buffy so much he genuinely feared you would collapse from all the stress you put yourself under. Pursuing a nursing degree so they could avoid hospital visits unless absolutely necessary because none of you had the money. Having him train you in basic self-defense because you hated feeling like dead weight. You took up Latin and all of the other dead languages in those old dusty books just so you could be useful. You tied yourself in knots just to be sweet. God, you were so sweet. Even to your own detriment, like pure sugar that was going to rot his teeth eventually.

The more time you spent together, the more the rot seemed to take his brain than his teeth. His mouth never got anywhere near you; Buffy made sure of that. He wished he could say it was because she was babying you too much, that you were also tired of Buffy making Spike seem like the biggest mistake you could ever make. To be fair, he hardly knew you. He knew of you; he knew of the pink wardrobe and the fluffy socks and the pretty shoes. He knew of you as Buffy's cute neighbor who stopped by so often that you might as well live with them. You weren't being a baby, you were being cautious, even more now. He almost wished you didn't believe him as much as you did, maybe you'd keep visiting him. He hadn't seen you in days and it was really starting to take a toll on him. His leg bounced and he got in the bad habit of biting his nails, which was starting to get annoying with how often he had to repaint them.

If you were here, you would repaint them. You would sit your pretty self on his busted couch, and you'd have a little bag with you with all your pins and charms that jingled like the earrings that dangle from your ears. In your bag would be at least three shades of pink, a range of blacks and greys, and a wild card or two, maybe a blue or a green. You'd let him pick his color, despite knowing he always went for black. You asked anyway, just in case he decided to go with pink just to humor you. Had you walked through right now, he would've obliged. He would've done anything you asked him too. It wasn't even that he was lonely, but it was getting to suffocate in here. It was getting hot, like a fire was spreading. Each breath felt smoke filled, his skin was on fire, his skin was getting damp, like the dust had fallen again. His hand was shaky as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, surely the smell would break him out of what had to be a daze.

If you were here, you'd make a joke about him needing to air the place out. He'd probably open the door and call that enough air, but he liked his privacy, and he didn't like the idea of anyone just being able to waltz right in. You would want to make a joke about no one wanting to visit him, but you’d bite your tongue at the fear of being too harsh. You always got that look in your eye when you thought something that could be misconstrued as mean. You took your lip into your teeth and your pretty eyelashes flitted and you looked away. He thought about what it would be like to bite your lips, wanting to see what they looked like, all red and even prettier than they were before. Just a taste, that's all he wanted, a taste.

He got up to open up the door only for that phantom feeling to return. All over his body, it felt like he had stepped out into the sun, like every molecule that made up his body was vibrating and mere seconds from combusting. His breathing got ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his brain going into overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would make it go away, but even from behind his eyelids, you were there. The idea of you, your smile, your laughter, fuck the very way you said his name. It sounded so nice coming from you. 

The way you said it when he got injured in a fight when you would patch up his wounds and have a bag of blood for him to replace what he lost. “Spike.” you would say. Like he should’ve known better than to just throw himself into danger. Not even bothering to consider the possibility that he did it to look heroic, or maybe in your care with your hands over his chest. There’s no reason for him to be this beaten and bruised from some baby vamp; William the Bloody. Spike? He had pride, but not as much as Angelus. It was easily quenched by the fact that he was in no way losing with your delicate hands tracing over faded scars on his chest and feeding him blood while they were just dust. 

“Spike.” Buffy would say, her tone laced with less concern and more disapproval. She knew something was up. After all they had gone through together, vampires should’ve been nothing for him. He had to space out his “fuck ups” just to get her off his back, just to get her voice out of his head. She didn’t say his name like you did. 

There wasn’t much better than how you said his name when it was just the two of you. Being together in his crypt, sometimes in your own bedroom which you had invited him into much to Buffy’s chagrin. “It’s Spike,” you had said, “how many times have we saved the world with him? I think he’s earned it.” It sent shivers down his spine. He would’ve saved the world so much sooner if it meant being able to be in your space. If it meant getting to hear you say his name through fits of laughter, trying to regain your breath while still finding enough to utter his name. “Spike.” you said, your hand over his while you giggled. He felt that heat now, felt the heat of all your touches culminating right now. All over his skin, tensing his muscles, holding his chest as he fought for breath himself. 

While he had the chance, he should’ve raided your underwear drawer. Now he was left to fist his dick with just the memory of you. You wouldn’t notice a pair or two gone, surely you wouldn’t. It was the type of small thing you would overlook because really what is a pair or two. You wouldn’t want him to be in pain, hearing his situation now, you’d feel like it was all your fault. The least you could spare was a pair of your prettiest panties for him to wrap around his cock while he fisted himself to the thought of you and how you would say his name now. 

The closest he’d gotten would be after a big battle. You had taken a beating, by the time you had gotten to a safe space you had lost a dangerous amount of blood, but the sounds that came out of your mouth were so delicious. And you trusted him to carry you to safety, your bloody hand wrapping itself around his bicep to maintain some tether to consciousness. “Spike.” your voice dripping with pain, but even that wasn’t enough to mask how pretty you sounded. He felt bad then for how hard it got him, but there is such a thin line between   pain and pleasure. The only difference now would be circumstance, and he would never hurt you. This would be good for you, the both of you, you just had to let him. You just had to say his name. 

“Spike?” In that moment, he knew there had to be some high power looking out for him when he heard your voice. Dream-like, and soft, like the wind could have blown it out and away from your lips. “Spike?!” you said again. He couldn’t tell if it was his shred of restraint or his body’s unwillingness to listen to his brain that kept him glued to his couch. 

“Now really isn’t a good time, love.” He tried to keep his voice level, he really did, but it was too much. And you weren’t stupid, he heard the heels of your shoes against the hard floor and smelt you before he even saw you. And fuck you smelt heavenly. 

“Are you okay? What happened-” You looked like you had a halo above your head, or maybe he was much further gone than he had thought. You cut yourself off in shock. When you had walked in, you hadn’t expected to catch Spike with his hands down his pants. 

“You know what, I’m just gonna go a-and come back later.” You tried to smile in an attempt to make the situation less awkward than it needed to be, but he grabbed you by your wrist. 

“Wait-I just need-fuck. I just need you to stay for a bit. I don’t feel good.” Your eyes met and you saw the sheen of what you assumed to be sweat covering his chest and face. His pupils blown out, his hair out of place, his labored breathing, like he couldn’t catch his breath. Oddly enough, the sheen had a pink tinge, and despite the fact that his fangs were protruding, his vampire face hadn’t appeared. You reached out to touch his forehead to surprisingly find a temperature. He groaned at the contact, both wanting to melt into your skin and like it physically pained him. 

“What happened?” He declined the answer, instead pushing his head more into the palm of your hand, tipping his head to sniff the inside of your wrist. “What are you doing?” You tried to pull away and put some distance in between the two of you, but he pulled you back, even closer than before. 

“You smell so good.” He nosed his way past your wrist and up your arm till he made it to your collarbone, trying to find where he could hear your blood pump the loudest. “Stop it!” you pushed against him as soon as you felt the tip of his fangs attempting to break skin. To both of your surprise, he let you. It looked like it pained him to do so, his eyes screwed shut and his hand gripping the arm of his couch until the wood snapped. 

“If this is about the demon thing, I’m gonna go get Willow, okay? You just need to stay right here.” The authority you had laced in your voice was cute. 

“Just stay here with me, yeah? There’s no need to get Willow. We don’t need Willow.” His voice had dropped an octave, his pupils blown and his brain damn near empty. Anything went in one ear then out the other as he held your hands in his, staring through you as if daring you to defy him. 

“Spike, you aren’t well.” You had tried to reason, but all he heard was that you weren’t saying no because you didn’t want this. You were concerned for his well being, even when he had you pinned down and his teeth at your neck, each breath moving you closer to him drawing blood, you were saying no because you were concerned he didn’t want this. You somehow thought he didn’t want you. 

“I’ve never felt better, baby.”, he said-practically fucking growled. Hell if he wanted you, he needed you. He pressed himself into you, his hands grabbing at anything he could to ground himself, his left at the base of your scalp and his right bunching the fabric of your skirt in his hands. He breathed into your neck, nipping and nicking at bare skin then soothing it with his tongue and kisses. He worked himself up over you, taking and taking until he was drunk, his tongue lolled out as he put his head on your chest.“Can I fuck you.” 

You had been caught in a daze yourself, his words had barely registered. You had more sense than he did at this point, finding enough resolve to shake your head. “Please.” he begged, groaning it out through clenched teeth. “I need you to make it feel better, please God just make it feel better.” He had pushed his hips into your hand, his weeping cock leaking onto you, pleading with you to touch it. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear, just be my sweet girl, yeah? Just make it better.”

You experimentally rubbed the tip, and he whimpered. His hand grabbing your wrist so fast a look of shock flashed across his face. You took that as a sign to pull away but he put your hand back around him, pushing your hand up and down his base. “Too much too quick, love.” 

Any hesitancy you had was swallowed as he smashed his lips into yours. It was urgent and quick, almost bruising how hard he kissed and held you as if you were going to disappear at any point. He tugged at a handful of hair, catching you in a moan that he used to force tongue into your mouth, sucking it as you pumped his dick at a painfully slow pace. 

His kisses made you breathless, and it was then you realized that he likely forgot in his haze that you actually needed air. He moaned into your lips, the sound spreading throughout your body and shaking you to your core. It wasn’t lost on him how damp your underwear had gotten, had he had the strength to pull away to touch you he would, but the mere seconds his skin would be off yours was enough of a deterrent to keep him in place. 

You tried to move away, but his hand kept you in place. “Don’t move.”, he rushed it out, a tone that otherwise would’ve been more commanding had he not been weak himself. “Keep going.” His hips bucked and stuttered, his movements becoming erratic the more faint your touches became. Like it was a warning; let me up for air and I’ll keep touching you. He whined at the thought of you pulling away. That wasn’t fair. 

His lips parted from yours, settling for the corner of your mouth before moving to your jawline to your neck, then just under your ear. You gasped for breath, you numb with the ecstasy of air and the feeling of his rushed kisses. He was getting close. Your hand was covered in his sticky pre-cum, his cock even more so as your hand moved alone over him, his own hand now grabbing at your shirt at the feeling. You squeezed at the bass, a motion he clearly enjoyed with how his body tensed up. A series of obscenities flowed from his pretty lips as he came, spurts of his cum getting over your pretty pink skirt, an image Spike would get himself off to later. 

You didn’t get long to sit in what just happened when he was on you again, laying you on your back and ripping your skirt clean off. You moaned something that sounded like “My skirt!”, but neither one of you were really worried about it. 

His lithe fingers were quick, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties, while he kissed up to where you wanted him excruciatingly slow. His hands rubbed and teased at the soft skin of your thighs, marking bruises everywhere he went. 

He moaned into you, sniffing you once again, before finding a place he wanted to dig his fangs into. Maybe it was how delicately he stuck in his teeth, maybe it was the lust blown fervor, but it didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated. In fact, you moaned at the intrusion, unable to know what to do with yourself as he sucked and lapped up the blood he had drawn. Your fingers wove into his hair, as if he could be pulled any closer to you than he already was. “You taste so good. So good.” And he let you know as such. The obscene noises that flew from the both of you, the slurping and whines, the pop of his lips as he traveled from one spot to another. But that’s not how he intended to eat you whole.

You were unbelievably wet, soaking through your panties and even Spikes fingers before he took pity on you and decided to pull them aside and plant his fingers into you. Now, you weren’t a virgin, but you had never had sex that felt as good as this. Never had someone in you that had hundreds of years of practice beforehand. 

“You’re doing so good, Sweet Girl. So good, can’t get enough of you.” What was an attempt to calm your nerves, had you keening and over the moon, the praise bringing tears to your eyes as you ground yourself in his hand. That didn’t move him along any quicker, his tongue still collecting anything you would give him like he hadn’t been fed in years. 

“Spike!” You called out, which finally seemed to get his attention. He saw the glass-like look your eyes had taken and the pout on your face. You looked like you were about to cry. Poor thing, so desperate. He said he’d take care of you, make you feel good. No point in denying the inevitable. 

You whined when he pulled out of you just to choke when he began to devour you. His nose at your clit and his tongue plunging into. “Thank you.” he muttered into you, like this was some divine gift to him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The combination of his praise and how good he was giving it to you made that coil in your belly tighten and tighten until it threatened to snap. And he just kept going. Completely in his own world, the only thoughts in his mind being about you, how you smelled, how you tasted, god you were so good to him. Letting him eat you out like this, helping him like this. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his girl. His sweet girl. No one else's, you couldn’t be anyone else's after this. His grip tightened around your thighs at the very thought. “Mine.” he said, the vibrations hitting your core deliciously. “Mine.”

“Yours Spike, all yours.” He hummed in approval, inserting two fingers back into you while he kept up his electric pace. He held your hand as it began to be too much, your back arching off the couch and your thighs closing around his head as he just kept going. You called his name as you came, high and higher until it became too heavy on your mouth and you couldn’t say anything at all. The grip you had on his hand had loosened, but he hadn’t let up. He still rambled into you, “Again. Again. Again. Please.”

You didn’t know if your hips were bucking into him or try to wiggle away from him. Either way, both attempts were unsuccessful. With how hard he pulled on your panties they had snapped and had been thrown to the side for the simple crime of being in his way. His forearm lay on your hip keeping you in place. Your hand still laid in his, him squeezing it as if it was any comfort from the inescapable feeling of his tongue licking your thoroughly soaked pussy. 

Your toes curled in your frilly socks as you came again on his tongue, and you foolishly expected that to be enough. You would’ve asked him to stop if you could pant out anything more than whines. You would’ve pushed him away if you could manage anything more than weak taps on his forearm. “No more.” you whispered out. “Can’t.” His fingers rubbed your hand as some form of encouragement. 

“Yes you can, love.” You shook your head weakly, scooting your hips back only for him to swiftly smack your pussy. You preened on the contact, and he drank in the arousal that gushed out just from that. “My sweet girl isn’t gonna disappoint me, is she? She’s gonna make me all better, isn’t that right?” Your brain was so fogged out you couldn’t even produce a response. You just groaned and squirmed, unable to brace for impact when he smacked you again. 

“Spike!” You cried out, but he didn’t care. Heknew you were feeling good from how much you gushed while he tongue fucked your cunt. It was just a bit too much for you right now. You would feel better, you just needed to let go some more. He tried to relax you, tried rubbing mindless shapes on your skin to calm you down as he worked you through your third orgasm, but you just heaved. Your tits bounced with how heavily you breathed, and yet after all of that, he still didn’t feel better. Why didn’t he feel better?

Despite the relief that came from him pausing his abuse, you still whined as he sat up from behind your legs. With your taste still on his tongue, he kissed you. You sighed into him, the feeling of his large hands moving from your hip to under your shirt to touch your tummy and rip your bra in half. You didn’t even notice him moving you into his lap and setting your thighs on either side of him so you straddled him. He thumbed your nipples, pinching and rubbing over them while he relished in the feeling of you cunt so close to his dick. 

You didn’t seem to catch on either as he slid in between your folds, too lost of him finally kissing you again. You moaned into this kiss as his fingers dipped to toy with your clit before he whispered in your ear. “Just one more.”

In one fluid motion, he slipped his dick into his cunt, catching you as your limbs went weak. He was so big you felt your eyes water with the pressure of him being in you. You could tell he was struggling to stay still, but the haze had worn off enough for him to regain some sense. He still waited eagerly for you to adjust, brushing the fallen tears from your eyes and kissing your checks to make it all better.

“Too big. It’s too big.” You stuttered. It was all you could manage to mutter out. He cooed at you, his dick growing harder than he thought possible at the feeling of it all and the praise. 

“I was made for you, Pretty Girl, you can take it.” You yelped as he jerked his hips into yours, but he just couldn’t help it. You were so pretty like this, all fucked out and dumb. Not a thought behind those eyes of yours and the only thoughts he was capable of was you. How warm you were, how wet you were, how tight you were. You were squeezing him and  milking him dry and as much as he tried he just couldn’t stop him self from fucking into you. 

“I’m sorry.” and he meant it. You weren’t ready and he couldn’t even tell if he was ready, his body had a mind of his own and he felt himself just slipping into the feeling of being enveloped by you. “Just too good. You’re too good. My good girl. You’re gonna take all I give you, aren’t you, love? You gonna be my sweet girl and take it?” His voice was breathy and low and impossibly hot. 

All you could manage was a soft ‘mhm’ as you took him in. It wasn’t like you had any other choice as you bounced on his cock, gripping at his chest and taking in each moan you earned as you drew blood from your scratches. 

You felt every inch of him, felt the tip of his dick hit your cervix and kept pounding at it like it was his job;  like he would die if he didn’t. You can’t do anything but take it as you screw your eyes shut and just try to breathe as everything in your body fights to hold on to some feeling. It was impossible to think, not when Spike’s hands were all over you and his touch was so incredibly hot. Even stranger, a pink glow began to emanate from him, that or you were closer to passing out than you originally thought. . 

He kept you close to his chest as you both chased your impending highs together, your lips meeting in the middle as you moaned and sighed into each other's mouths and he was a goner, rambling like a mad man in your ear, thanking you endlessly for something he couldn’t put his hands on. Maybe it was your release, that you felt coming like a truck. He squeezed at the fat of your hips, pulling you even closer until neither one of you could tell where the other started and ended and you came like that, so close that you were almost suffocating, but a different kind from before. 

He came not long after you, his dick still inside spurting his cum inside you and keeping it in there with little intention of coming out any time soon. That pink glow had faded from before, fading away until there was nothing there and the slight pink tinge from before was gone too. His eyes drooped a bit, his blue irises that you hadn’t realized you had missed finally reappeared, his pupils returning to normal and his fangs retracting. 

He hung his head in your neck and you felt his temperature drop a bit, no longer boiling hot. He refused to move his head from his spot though. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was ashamed of what just happened. 

After the both of you had a moment to catch your breaths, he removed himself from inside you, stalking off to find something to wear now that your outfit was completely ruined. He even had the decency to turn around while you changed, granted he had a hard time looking at you anyway. 

“You’re gonna wanna deep clean that couch.” You said to break the silence. You were surprised you got a chuckle out of him. 

“Yeah. I don’t normally do this sort of thing on there.” Another moment of silence passed between the two of you.

“You know, we can go back to my place and I can fix your nails. I can tell you’ve been biting at them.” He didn’t need to be told twice either. The place still stunk of sex and his head was feeling clearer than it had in days, he couldn’t stand to be there right now.

“About all of this…you won’t tell Buffy, right?” You giggled. 

“Not if you don’t.” And that was more than enough for him.

[readingbookelf]

Different Kind of Aftercare - Spike

Summary: Spike takes care of you after being thrown around by a demon.

Pairing: human!reader x Spike

My Writing | Taglist

You’re in your bathtub while Spike takes care of you. Earlier you got thrown around by a demon leaving enough damage that Spike even had to help you out of your clothes before you could slip into the tub. 

Spike is washing away all the grime and dirt when you hear him mumble something.

“What did you say,” you ask, voice cracking from disuse. 

“Nothing… It’s just…you have so many scars,” he answers breathlessly. 

You shudder as his fingers trace your old wounds. They’re all healed, but you don't like to think about all the scars littering your body, every attack still vivid in your mind.

“That’s the risk of running with the vampire slayer, I suppose,” you reply. 

Spike scoffs: “Isn’t the slayer supposed to protect you? I mean it’s her job description.”

“She can’t protect everyone at all times.”

You shrug. Buffy is an amazing slayer, but she often relied on you to take care of yourself. 

You absentmindedly run your fingers over the bite mark in the crook of your neck. “This one’s the worst,” you whisper, “The others are insignificant, really.”

“Every scar on your body is one too many,” Spike replies without hesitation. 

You rest your head on his shoulder as he calmly rubs your back. One of his hands runs over the scar in your neck as he curses his own kind. 

“I think you should get out of the bath so I can take care of those wounds,” Spike says. 

You stand up and Spike immediately wraps the fluffiest towel around your frame. 

“You dry off while I go and find some clothes,” he orders. 

“Yes, chef,” you chuckle, feeling a bit more like yourself.

Spike eventually returns with a big T-shirt and some shorts. 

“Weirdly enough, I found my shirt in your closet,” Spike says before handing you the T-shirt. 

“Really? I have no idea how that landed in my closet,” you nonchalantly reply while blush settles on your cheeks. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Spike replies with a laugh.

After a lot of struggling on your part, Spike jumps in and helps you put on the T-shirt. You sit down on the closed toilet seat while you watch him take care of the big gash on your forearm. You were surprised he offered to take care of you tonight. You had a good relationship with the vampire, but never before had anyone offered to take care of you.

“Why are you taking care of me,” you whisper. 

“Because I care about you and you looked in no state to be alone tonight,” he replies. 

“Glad to know it wasn’t a plot just to see me naked,” you chuckle. 

“Oh that was just a bonus,” Spike laughs accompanied by a wink. 

“I can’t believe you saw me naked before buying me dinner.”

“That dinner can be arranged, my love,” Spike answers. 

No hesitation, his love for you shining through in his voice. Blush coats your face as you grasp the significance of it all. 

Taglist: @cureleanrainblues

[prose-for-hire]

Should I Stay or Should I Go? (Part Four)

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

Pairing: Spike x Giles!reader

Part four of four 💖

Warning: reader drinks/smokes, difficult relationship with Giles and not friends with Buffy. Fighting. Blood. Biting. Sexual reference

It had been a long night.

Spike kept swatting you away every time you started trying to talk to him about something. He was getting exasperated and you found it cute. You didn’t want to walk in silence sensing demons and vampires anymore, that game was getting tired.

He sighed, looking up at the sky exaggeratedly as you started mindlessly talking again. It was something that he usually enjoyed, always had ever since he had met you and you just poured out your thoughts to him against your better judgement. The way you were able to just talk, speak your mind in such a way that made him want to reach deeper. Know you even more.

But there was a time and a place and he was really trying to concentrate. Still, he weaved his hand in yours and squeezed as he listened.

“Don’t you get bored with the fighting? I’m getting splinters here” You moved to show him the other hand, the one brandishing the stake.

“Put the bloody thing away then. You don’t need it anyway, you’re a natural, love” he insisted, making you glow at such a high compliment. He wouldn’t compliment you on your fighting lightly.

“Well, thanks, but I’m still kinda over it. Surely it’s almost dawn?” you yawned, side-eying him to watch the characteristic eyeroll. You knew him so well now, as well as he knew himself.

“Don’t you feel it? Coursing through your veins?” He said, squeezing your hand tighter and bouncing slightly as he walked.

“Boredom?” you teased, the smile spreading across your face telling him that you had been enjoying your little hunting trip. But, really, ten demons was excessive for one night and you were starting to get cramp in your wrist from all the staking.

“The power, pet, the fight of it all”

“There’s me hoping you’d be a lover not a fighter”

“Why can’t I be both, hm?” He arched an eyebrow suggestively, his hand grazing the skin of your arm, until he reached that point on your neck that he loved so much. His thumb stroking the pulse point.

That look was in his eye again, the one from that night. You gasped as his lips caught yours, taking the stake from your hand and throwing it into the darkness. There was a need to the kiss, an urgency even though he had all the time in the world to enjoy your love.

His senses consumed by you, he couldn’t care less if a demon was in the area anymore. All he wanted to feel was you. He pressed you against the closest mausoleum, the rough brick caressing your back as you held Spike against you. You moved your hand beneath his duster, under the layers of fabric that kept his body from yours.

It had been a month. A month since you had died.

He had grazed the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of your blood. He whispered what he wanted to do. That he wanted to turn you. To have you for eternity, that was how strong his love was for you. You had nodded, not thinking and just enjoying the moment. Enjoying him.

You only realised once you had awoken, that you had made the right decision. You would have done anything for him in that moment. In any moment.

It hurt, God it had hurt. If you hadn’t already been dying it would have made you want to so badly. He cradled your form as you went limp beneath him, licking up the side of your neck at the open wound that was still leaking. You had never looked so attractive to him as his own blood collected at the corner of your mouth.

He held you for hours, whispering reassurances, promises of glory and just how good you would feel. Really, he should have buried you. It was a vampire’s rite of passage, having to claw your way out of a grave. But he had never been one for rules.

He laid you in his bed, lying beside you each day, waiting for you to arise.

When you did, you understood everything in such clarity. This is what you were meant to become. You felt like yourself, you weren’t itching for some lame evil masterplan nor were you feeling any guilt for becoming something you had been taught was disgusting and unnatural for so long.

Spike doted, he truly did. He adored you even more now that he had sired you, if that was even possible. Worshipped the ground that you walked on.

And he liked to show you at any possible moment. He liked to stay in physical contact in some way most of the time. Whether it was his hand in yours, leaning against you or kissing you as passionately as he was now. Your life was so full now, you had made friends with a couple of local demons and you sometimes even managed to convince Spike to go on double dates (very, very rarely).

You finally had a purpose. A reason to get up in the evening. All it took was the little death to make you come alive.

You and Spike made a cosy little life together, you lived fully and helped kill demons when the mood struck. You felt like you were doing good, even if it was in a kind of morally grey way. You knew that Giles would never be proud of you, but you couldn’t find it in your to care as much as you did when you were living.

As Spike slid his hand beneath your waistband, his hands sizzling against your skin despite you both being room temperature, your kisses getting sloppier as you mumbled against his lips. You adored this man. His lips. His hands. His everything…

You moaned against his skin, fully wrapped up in him.

Until, of course, you were interrupted in the usual Sunnydale way. You had missed the sound of footsteps, beating hearts and panting breath.  You had missed the scent, the urgency and fear that could now be smelled in the air.

“Y/n! I’m glad we found you”

“Y-you are?” You said, managing to drag yourself from Spike’s touch, ignoring Xander’s eyes dropping to where Spike had just removed his hand from. He was stood with Anya looking

“Can’t a man have any sodding privacy around these parts?” Spike grumbled, showing his hands in his pocket and daring Xander to say something about what he had seen with that smirk that you loved so much.

You focused on trying to look human. You blinked probably more than was normal and stook irregular and strange breaths. It was funny how easily you could have forgotten something that had once been so normal.

You stared at them, more specifically at their necks. Beating and full of life. It made you hungry. Ravenous. You gripped Spike’s arm, feeling your fangs threatening to elongate as the human spoke animatedly about something.

Oh, right, you were meant to be listening.

There was (another) apocalypse on the horizon. An evil force that had been exploding people from the inside. Demons and humans alike. It was like a parasite, once you were infected it lived inside you, making a home until it was ready to ‘hatch’, leaving the host exploding into pieces.

It was pretty grim, even by Sunnydale standards and even Anya looked scared. A little impressed, but still scared.

“What am I supposed to do about it?”

“There’s some prophetic-prophecy thingy that mentions you”

“Me?”

“Well, sort of. G-man can explain. Let’s go”

“Hold on, what makes you think we want to help you losers?”

“The world is ending here, and I’m human and mortal and I don’t want to die and we haven’t got time for tantrums” Anya spiralled and Xander comforted her. It was clearly serious. You and spike looked at each other for a moment.

“One condition. Spike comes too.”

It was awkward to say the least. There was something written about the one that ends a Watcher lineage having ‘potential’. Some sort of dormant power that needed releasing. You had to say some words or shake a stick or something that would cause immunity from the parasite. You weren’t listening too closely you were just waiting for instructions.

You had half hoped it was just some excuse so that your father could talk to you. Perhaps reconcile. But when you arrived it was clearly not the case. They had invited you in, thankfully, and you sat in the corner with Spike.

You stared across the room, your father brewing a hot drink for the group who looked like they all needed something a bit stronger. They had all been told that the world was ending, after all.

As if he had read your mind, Spike slid a flask from the inside pocket of his duster, a glint in his eye as he poured the liquor into each of your mugs. Your father either didn’t notice or chose to turn a blind eye due to the nature of the situation.

They discussed the situation well into the night. Each of them eyed Spike suspiciously and your Dad flat out glared every time Spike so much as looked in your direction.

It was getting late but neither you or Spike was tired. You had always been one to stay up late so it wasn’t unusual to your father. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

“Do you have any snacks?” You asked, moving to look through the cupboards. You and Spike were going to watch movies until everyone else went to bed and you could sneak out for some blood. You had settled on some sort of comedy, with lots of blood and guts.

“Oh! You have a full box of these!” You exclaimed, they were your favourite snack, grabbing them and fighting the box to get it open. He had kept them in the cupboard, in case you ever returned.

“You did, ah, always like them when you were a child” Giles said smiling wistfully. It really wasn’t like him to come over all nostalgic and soft. They might take away his British citizenship if he wasn’t careful.

Your father stayed for another twenty minutes before he left for bed, looking at you and wishing you a good sleep before he went. He had missed you, even if you did make some terrible choices.

You had mostly been camped in your old room for the last couple of days. It had been taken over by stacks and stacks of books since your departure. You had insisted that Spike stayed and seeing as you were helping the Scoobies out they reluctantly allowed you both to stay. You had been grumbling about the state of your old room and Spike reminded you that last time he was here he was sleeping in the tub, so it was somewhat of an upgrade. Willow skipped in that morning to see you.

“Let’s go to the espresso pump, it’s a nice day and I have something I wanted to tell-”

“No. Thanks” You said firmly. Willow had wanted to tell you about Tara, she knew you would be supportive.

“Just go, Y/n, we don’t need you here every hour of the day. Just be on call for when we need you” Your father had walked in behind Willow, eyeing Spike with disdain.

“No, really, I’m good. Thanks, though”

“Come on, some light will do you good” Willow insisted, trying to draw back the curtains. You propelled yourself forward to try and stop her but Spike just braced himself and moved out of the way.

You screamed. It wasn’t exactly your finest moment. But the pain was terrible, it felt as if your skin was being cooked. Bubbling beneath the surface.

Everyone ran in from the other room, shocked and confused as you dived behind your old bed to hide from any stray sunlight.

“You’re-”

“Dead? Yeah”

Buffy didn’t think she just launched herself at you, leaving you reacting instinctively and kicking her in the stomach from your spot on the floor. Leaving her reeling backwards into a stray stack of books, not actually expecting you to be as strong as you were.

Xander caught Buffy and Spike immediately got to his feet and struck the Slayer on her jaw before howling in pain at the chip firing in his head.

“I’m, ow, I’m- I have a soul!” You shouted and everyone just stared at you.

“How?” You father asked, staring at you as if you were a museum exhibit. You could have made something up, some heroic story but you doubt any of them would have believed you anyway. You knew you had a reputation for being a bit of a slacker.

“You liar! You don’t have a soul” Anya stated. She would have been able to see it in your eyes.

“Worth a shot” You shrugged trying your best to stick to a defensive stance.

Giles turned to Spike, rounding on him and pinning him against the wall. Spike had killed his child. And turned you into something evil. You ran to pull him off your love, Giles staring at your strength and seeing a passion that he had never seen you display before. You cared about Spike. Truly.

“Look, Dad, I’m sorry. I know I’m all dead now and I’m probably not exactly what you envisioned but I’m powerful now and I can fight demons the way you always wanted me to.”

“I don’t suppose you believe that this cancels out the numerous killing of innocents?”

“I’m, uh, joining Spike on an animal diet. It’s only fair seeing as he can’t eat proper- uh, the other way around” You insisted, though this hadn’t been entirely true. But they didn’t need to know that.

Spike just stared at your Dad, his face unchanged. The amount of times the vampire had wanted to rip Giles’ head off for the way he treated you. But he had let him get a few blows in, because he knew it would still upset you if he hurt your Dad.

There was a silence for a while. Everyone exchanging glances. Finally Buffy nodded and walked towards you, reaching out her hand to you. Waiting for you to shake. A truce. An agreement.

Buffy leaned in, warning you that the moment she caught you killing or doing something immoral you would be dust.

You didn’t feel particularly evil. Or particularly good. You were happily between the two, basking in the grey area that you had always figured existed for demons. Now you knew it was true. And would try and prove it every day to the Slayer and your father.

You had hoped for a happier ending with your father. He barely tolerated your presence. But, you supposed it was better than the alternative: matching piles of dust. You and Spike had gone back to the crypt, so as not to tempt anyone to kill you both in your sleep. But you had still committed to visiting Giles one evening a week to discuss the prophecy and to spend time with him. You had just left and Spike was waiting for you at the end of the drive.

His face always softened when he saw you, his love for you deepening by the day. You felt a little sad. You hid it from Spike the best you could, smiling at the way he doted on you. Waited to walk you home to your shared crypt.

He reached for you, pulling you into an embrace. He wrapped his arms around you, inhaling deeply, enjoying your scent. It was as if he could feel the sadness radiating off you, though. You were clinging to him a little tighter. Hiding your face against him.

“Sod this” Spike said suddenly, pulling away.

You frowned, “The hug?”

“No love” he replied, having already taken his hand in yours and began leading you at pace through the streets of Sunnydale until you reached his car with the blacked out windows and he gestured for you to get in.

“Where are we going?”

“Far” He shrugged, opening the passenger side door for you.

“We can’t go. I can’t let them die, Spike. Even though I would probably quite enjoy it.” He grinned, pressing a kiss against your temple before you slid into the seat.

“Thought about it, when I visited LA last Angel had an ex-Watcher working with him. I wager they’ll figure it out before any real damage is done” He shrugged sitting beside you and starting up the car.

Wesley. You had forgotten about him. You suppose he had ended his Watcher lineage too if he was no longer in the role.

Spike was, as you had once claimed, quite astute. And he could tell you needed a change of scene. He hated to see you sad. This should be one of the best times, learning to hunt and enjoy the darker side of life. He wanted to show you a whole new underworld, one that he knew you would thrive in.

You didn’t need any crappy jobs, no “success” as defined by your father. You had power. Had love. Had a way to contribute. You could actually fight the demons now rather than cower in the corner and let Spike deal with the threat.

You watched him as he pushed a cassette tape in and started slamming the wheel to the beat and banging his head.

You lit up a cigarette, not able to stop yourself from smiling wide. As you passed the Sunnydale sign, you felt free. For the first time in a long time you felt lighter. With Spike by your side, with all the possibilities that came with your new powers.

You drove towards the sunrise, cigarette smoke curling in the air and the music blasting. You couldn’t help smiling as he slid a hand to rest on your thigh.

You felt happy. Real happiness. You felt a flutter of excitement in your dead heart.

[specialagentlokitty]

Spike x reader - my good thing

Standing on the edge of the field, you smiled a little to yourself as you looked up slightly at the endless amount of stars that were above you.

You were out there waiting for the meteor shower to start, it had been something you were looking forward to the whole month.

Just something for you, without college, or hunting the supernatural, or having to listen to everybody complain about everybody to you.

This was time for you.

At least it was supposed to be.

You heard a branch snap, and you turned around, watching as the white haired vampire came stumbling out of the trees, brushing his jacket down.

You sighed, but you offered him a small smile when he looked up at you.

“How did you find me?”

“Slayer told me where you were, or, roughly where you were.”

You nodded, and he walked over, standing next to you while you turned back to carry on watching the stars.

“They want me to bring you back to help them.”

You nodded a little, turning around so you could face where the calorie had just come from.

“Alright, lead the way.”

Spike furrowed his brows a little.

“I said they told me to get you, not that I was going to actually take you, I just wanted out of the boring meeting and decided to see what it was you were doing here and if it were any fun.”

You smiled at him, shaking your head a little.

“Sorry Spike, I don’t think this will be any fun for you.”

“Who says it won’t? What are you doing anyway?”

“Well, I’m waiting for the meteor shower, this one doesn’t happen all that often, but it’ll be twice as big as any of the others, it’ll cover the whole sky!” You beamed.

You turned back to the sky, putting your hands into your pockets.

Spike glanced at you a little and scoffed.

“You’re right, that is boring. Later.”

“Bye, have a good night!”

You beamed at him again, and Spike began to walked away before he stopped.

He glanced at you just standing there unprotected, not a single care in the world and he cursed quietly to himself.

They would kill him if something happened to you, or even blame him, so he had to turn around and make his way back over to you.

“How long does this take?” He grumbled.

“Spike you don’t have to stay, I’ll be alright, I’ve got this whole area cornered off to monsters.”

Spike furrowed his brows a little.

“Then why did I find you?”

“You’re on the list of people who can come through it.”

The way you said it so happily and casually with a smile on your face.

You said it like it was so casual, so normal, as if he were one of the humans you were always hanging around with.

Not that he was a powerful vampire and the only thing stopping him from ripping your head off was a little chip in his brain.

Or one of the two things stopping him at least.

You were bouncing on the balls of your feet, and you reached out to the grass, brushing your fingers along it.

A few bugs flew up, lighting themselves up and spike jumped back in shock.

“What the hell kind magic was that?!”

You laughed a little.

“No magic, they’re fireflies!”

You grinned that innocent little grin when you found something absolutely fascinating, not like demons or vampires or anything like that.

But a pure, wholesome fascination, like when someone brought you a new book you had never seen, or you had completed a new spell perfectly for the first time.

It was a pure, innocent grin that made Spike wonder how despite everything that had happened, everything you had seen or been through you could still be so happy and bright about everything.

Spike watched the fireflies as they danced about a little bit, and he shuffled back a little as one came near him.

“Come on Spike, they won’t hurt you. They’re harmless.”

“They’re bugs that glow in the dark, I don’t like that, it’s not natural.”

“They’re natural, compared to most things in this town at least.”

You reached up, gently guiding the firefly away from him back towards its friends.

“There’s loads of them in the grass, it’s so cool when they all fly upwards, like it’s like the stars all fell from the sky!”

“It would be a total disaster if the stars fell from the sky love, even you know that.”

You shrugged a little.

“Well, yeah. But it’ll still be pretty at least, if that’s the last thing I saw before I died I’d be okay with that.”

Spike glanced down at you.

“Really, burning stars, millions of them falling from the sky and you would be okay if that was the last thing you saw before one of them killed you?”

You laughed a little.

“Okay, okay when you put it like that maybe not so much, but I mean come on, you have to admit it would be nice.”

“Can’t say it’s what I would want to see before I died.”

You looked at him in curiosity.

“Then what would you want to see?”

Glanced looking at you before he turned away again.

“That’s none of your business.”

You grinned again, and you looked back out at the grass.

“You know what you need Spike?”

“What that?” He asked.

“You need to have some fun, not like beat demons up and drink blood kinda fun, like just pure, wholesome fun, you know? Like road trips and… and things like that!”

He rose a brow at you.

“Now I may have forgotten but I’m pretty sure the whole part of being a vampire is I can’t go out in the sun. Plus what’s so wrong with my lifestyle?”

You sighed, turning around to look at him.

“Everybody treats you like a monster, you help them and they still don’t trust you despite everything. And I mean yeah they probably have a reason to, but I think you’ve been a vampire for far too long.”

“Maybe I have, I’m pretty okay with that though. You seem to value life so much, tell me, why is that? Won’t you just die in the end anyway?”

You shrugged slightly, turning your attention back towards the sky.

“Well, yeah. That can make life pretty morbid.”

“Then why are you always so happy?”

“There so much beauty, it varies from person to person, I like the small things, the unnoticed things. Stars, nature, old paintings and vintage music.”

“So, you’re an old person in a young persons body?”

You laughed, smiling softly at him.

“Life is short spike, and unpredictable. If we don’t pay attention to what’s right in front of us, it’s easy to miss it until it’s all gone. Then it’ll be too late.”

“For a vampire life is long, I have all the time in the world.”

“You’re immoral to old age, not to death itself Spike.”

You sighed, and you turned back to the stars.

“One day you’ll die too, and you’ll regret all the things that you never did. Stop trying to be the big bad for once, just be happy.”

“That’s a disgusting statement, I am the big bad, I will always be the big bad.”

“Uh huh, the big bag who’s scared of bugs!”

“Hey!”

Spike tried to grab your arm but you ran into the grass and he ran after you, immediately getting swarmed by the fireflies.

He swatted his hands around, accidentally hitting you and he yelled in pain, clutching at his head as he dropped to his knee.

“Bloody hell! It’s like a death trap here!” He yelled.

You knelt next to him, placing your hands over his on his head.

You whispered something, and the pain rattling around in his skull faded.

Spike looked up at you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for your to get hurt.”

“I’m the one that hit you. What did you do to me? Why doesn’t it hurt?”

You smiled at him, moving your hands away from his and you rested them on your knees.

“It’s a healing spell, it takes your pain, that’s all, or at least lessens it, which for you would be like me taking it away.”

You sat down, leaning back on your hands as you looked at the hundreds of fireflies dancing about, lights slowly moving around.

Spike sat there watching you, a hand behind him, the other resting in his knee, and he turned his gaze up to the sky as well.

A few meteors shot across the sky and a small gasp left you.

“Spike look!”

“Yes love, I can see them I have eyes you know.”

He looked back at you, sitting up a little bit so he was able to see you a little better.

You wore the softest smile, a gleam of excitement in your eyes.

“They’re so beautiful…”

“Yeah, they are.”

You chuckled a little bit.

“I know you’re looking at me, I can feel your eyes on me.”

Spike got up, and he moved over, crouching in front of you, his arms resting on his legs.

“Is that so wrong?”

You turned your head towards him.

“Spike?”

Reaching up, he carefully placed a hand on the side of your face, and you looked at him in utter confusion which made him chuckled a little.

“Come now, you really can’t pretended you haven’t noticed anything.”

“Noticed what?”

He sighed.

“Come on love, I know you know. I just need to know if you feel the same way.”

You didn’t reply and he sighed again.

He’d been trying to make it obvious to you, without directly telling you. He tried being nice, he tried being mean, he tried getting you things or just following your around.

Now he was just going to be upfront about it.

“You’re so soft, so gentle. You are everything somebody like me doesn’t deserve, somebody I would never deserve, I’m evil, you’re good. It could never work out.”

“So, then why are you here?” You asked quietly.

“Because I want you, and I don’t care how selfish it is. I want one good thing for myself, I want you to be that one good thing I have.”

“Spike…”

He leant forward, brushing his lips against yours.

“Be that one good thing in my life…” he whispered.

You smiled, leaning forward, connecting your lips either his.

Your hands gently gripped at his jacket, pulling him a little closer.

Spike smirked into the kiss and you pulled away, and he chased your lips trying to kiss you again.

“Spike the meteors..”

“Alright! Alright.”

You smiled, shuffling around and you laid your head in his lap, staring up at him, the shooting stars above his head.

You reached up, gently touching his cheek.

“I know you’ve been trying to get my attention for months.”

“So… you’ve been ignoring me then?”

You just grinned a little.

“I wanted to be sure I guess… that I wasn’t going to be just another you know.. like.. conquest or something…”

Spike placed his hand on yours.

“Now I could never do that to someone as pure as you, I could never hurt you in such a way love.”

He lifted your head, and shuffled down so he could lay down as well, resting your head in his chest.

Your hand held his, running your thumb along the back of his hand, small circles against his skin.

It was a strange feeling for him, we was used to violence, aggression, anger.

With you it was care, compassion, gentle.

He was sure if he had a soul, and a beating heart this would probably be what you would consider to be true love and happiness.

Spike never understood your whole love for nature and all the little things, but in this moment he did, he really understood it.

It wasn’t the first time he was so close to you, but it was the closest he’d been to you, and he loved it, he loved your warmth, and how soft you were.

It wasn’t killing or being the big bad, but this was definitely his new favourite memory he would remember for as long as he lived, he just hoped there was time to make many more.

“Spike?”

He hummed a little.

You sat up, and you leant down, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re here too love.”

He pulled you down into his embrace, and you rested your head on his shoulder, going back to look at the night sky

[multifandomfix]

Imagine sharing a tender night in with Giles.

“The bath is ready,” Rupert called. It had been sweet of him to do this for you. He’d set up your favorite candles and made the whole thing very romantic and calming. You really were grateful to have him.

When you walked into the bathroom in your robe, the aroma of the bath and the candles hit you, and you let out a small hum of contentment. Rupert had been midway through undressing when you caught sight of a scar on his upper arm. “How did you get that,” you asked. He followed your eyes to the small scar in question.

“I can’t say I actually remember at this point,” he replied with a half chuckle. “You work with a slayer and you tend to forget the small ones.”

You closed the distance between you with a few steps and you placed a delicate kiss to the faded scar. “Forgotten or not, it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be cared for. Now come, join me.” You untied your robe, letting it slide from your shoulders and become a heap on the floor. Rupert finished undressing himself and got into the warm water with you. You both felt your cares melt away just being there with one another.

Happy Valentine’s Day @micheleamidalajedi

Rupert Giles: @locke-writes, @rachelrosenberg, @thecupcakevigilante, @bandgeek88

[am-i-the-one]

While it's pouring with rain, Spike is the type of person who will walk miles in the rain to save his bus fare money. All the while cursing himself for being so tight-fisted and angrily stomping his black boots in puddles. You'd see him glare at the cars driving by, thinking: their fancy smancy cars, driving all high and mighty in their stupid hybrid-horse, look at me. But, the major agony would be that he couldn't take more than three tokes off his cigarette before it being extinguished by the rain. His blonde curls would be wildly soaked and look like a worms' nest. His eyeliner would smudge, tearing down his face and he'd pull his leather jacket over his head for shelter as he trudges along the road. "Couple f------ quid I've saved though," he would say out loud nodding his head, "buy me a couple smokes that would".

[the-crooked-library]

does anyone else think about Spike and Giles looking at each other and seeing a personification of the most despised and vulnerable aspects of their own past or is it just me