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imsupposedtobedoingsomething · 6 years ago

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Habits 1 (Spike X Reader)

Plot: You are from the less than perfect side of Sunnydale. A lookout for your friends who experiment with different drugs and unsafe habits, you notice that more and more of the regulars at your frequented places keep disappearing. The Scooby Gang notice that more and more dead bodies are piling around the city, usually unreported. Spike enlists your knowledge of the place to help take down the Big Bads there.

Warnings: Mentions of illegal activities, drugs, blood

Words: 1,059

This is part 1 of what will be a series. Let me know if you like it :)

The scooby gang was huddled around the usual table that was covered in piles and piles of books. The recent upsurge of drained young people had left them stumped. Buffy hadn’t found any signs that the average vampire gangs were to blame. The bodies were usually found miles away from town and they weren’t the usual victims. Many of them were “less than desirable”, a certain kind of individual who usually wasn’t found on the nicer side of Sunnydale. People who might not be missed when they disappeared.“I’ve cracked the case!” Spike burst through the door of the magic shop foot first, leaving a dusty footprint on the wood.

“Spike I should stake you through the chest for that.” Giles looked over his glasses with only a hint of humor in his tone as he glared at the bleached vampire who had become a thorn in his side.“Well, well, well. Maybe I should take my lead back.” Behind him was a young woman, one that none of them had ever seen before. He dramatically spun you around by the shoulders, making a show of leaving without hesitation.

“Alright, enough with the drama. Who is this?” Buffy’s voice betrayed the exhaustion she felt after days of endless research. Spike’s propensity for the histrionic was just another thing to grate on her fried nerves.Spike smirked triumphantly. Small victories were still victories. The only issue was that he couldn’t quite recall what your name was.

“Y/N.” You waved a hand decked out in tacky costume rings. Dressed in dark clothes, dark makeup smeared haphazardly around your eyes, the faint smell of cigarette smoke hanging around it was hard for the gang to wrap their heads around trusting you.

“Willow!” The gang looked at the redhead’s enthusiastic face when she shouted out her name with a friendly wave. Willow’s smile faltered at the judgement filled face of her friends. The Scooby Gang was not accustomed to accepting outside help from anyone, let alone one that looked like they came from the wrong side of the tracks. It didn’t help that Spike was the one bringing her. After a round a tea was distributed, the addition to the party was sat with the rest of the gang. There was an awkward silence as the gang waited, staring at the strange looking stranger next to Spike.“My druggie friend here has an inside scoop on the recent dead people. Tell ‘em pet.”

You rolled your eyes but opened your mouth to speak anyway. “Alright, I resent the druggie comment, first of all. I’m more like a lookout. Make sure my friends don’t die. Or if they do I make sure their parent’s don’t find out how it happened. And it isn’t always drugs, adrenaline too.”

You shrugged, doubting that anything you said would make a difference to these people who had already formed their idea of you. You were used to the residents of Sunnydale looking the other way when things went wrong for you and your friends. You could take a blood test saying there were no drugs in your system and they would still only think of you as a drug addict, a dropout, scum beneath their feet. But you had to take care of your own.

“We don’t need to know this.” Giles interrupted, obviously irritated that this sketchy newcomer hadn’t offered more relevant information. People were dying at that very moment and he was anxious to find the solution.

You threw your hands up in defeat before continuing to talk. “Anyway, the newest craze has been some harmless blood donation. To vampires.” Met with the look of utter shock and disgust, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

“Like I said, it’s the adrenaline high. It feels good when you do it right.”

“There’s a more exclusive area for some VIP vamps and demons. And just so happens those are the fools who end up dead.” Spike interjected with a cocky smirk, obviously pleased that he had cracked the case without the Goody Two Shoes.

“How do we know this? How often do you frequent this place Spike?” Xander emphasized the vampire’s name. Apparently Giles was not the only one easily irritated by the undead man.

“I hear things. Found this little pet lurking around.”

“I watch,” You seemed to become more irritated with this conversation as it went as well. “I noticed more of the regulars stopped coming. I don’t want this happening to my friends.”

“How have the police not noticed this?” Dawn asked innocently, as if the police were always on top of their monster fighting duties.

“Look at her,” Anya gestured vaguely toward you, who gave an irked glare in response. “These aren’t the kinds of people that you notice going missing. Or if they do, you're not surprised. No offense.”

“Full offense taken.”

“So what’s the plan Giles?” Buffy sprang up from her seat, ready to make moves towards ending the current crisis.

“Giles? Oh no, Slayer. I already have a plan. This house of horrors is a mostly good place. Vamps get blood, kids get high. No one dies. We just need to get these big bads out of there.”

“And what do you recommend, Spike?”

“Recon mission. Me and the girl go undercover and see what’s the up and up. When we find something, we report back to you, Slayer takes action. Mystery solved!” The vampire clapped his hands loudly as he stood and knocked over his chair. They all gave him rather displeased expressions. His enthusiasm sank. No one seemed to appreciate the fact that he had a plan, probably because the fact that he went to these kinds of places had left them with a skin crawling feeling.

It took a couple more hours to convince the group that this plan was worthwhile. Buffy and Giles were the main opponents of it. It wasn’t exactly Slayer fashion to let innocent people walk into lairs of evil. But you were unrecognizable as a part of their gang and apparently already one of the regular faces. There wasn’t much more they could do besides running in stake first and killing whoever they could. But the worse baddies could get away and they would start up their business elsewhere. So, after more debate than usual, the gang allowed Spike’s plan to happen.

And that included you

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #btvs fanfiction #reader #self insert #spike x reader #James Marsters x Reader #Buffy Reader #fanfic #drugs #vampire #slayer #female reader #Habits #series

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leatherednlace · 3 years ago

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Masterlist

General Key

Smut (S)

Angst (A)

Fluff (F)

Writing Challenge (WC)

Headcannons (H)

Male Reader (M)

Gender Neutral (GN)

Female reader (F!M)

————————————————————————————————————————

Supernatural:

Dean Winchester

- Jolene - (F,A,S,M)

- ANGST

- A Million Ways To Worship You - Pt 1

- Leakage - (S,F!M)

Sam Winchester

The Witcher:

- Close - Geralt x Male reader (F,S,M)

Stranger Things:

- Not My Type - Billy x Male reader (F,M)

The Walking Dead:

- Quiet - Rick x Male reader (F,S,M)

- Wet Dreams ——> (Coming soon)

Shane Walsh

- In Secret ——> (Coming soon)

Marvel:

Frank Castle

- Fixer-Upper (F,S,M)

Steve Rogers

- Missed Call - (A,F,M)

Zemo

- Blowjob Headcannon - (S,M)

Bucky Barnes

- Hooked - (S,M) ——> (Coming soon)

Criminal Minds:

Aaron Hotchner

- Living in the Fast lane - (S,F,M)

- Hurt - (A,S,M) ——> (Coming soon)

BTVS:

Spike

- Temptation - (S,M)

Peaky Blinders:

Tommy Shelby

- I Love You - (F,A,M)

Others

- Interruption - (S,M) (Sherlock Holmes)

BINGO’s

AnyFandom KinkBingo:

- Three letter word - Frank Castle x Male reader (M,S,F)

- Hot Pink - Zemo x Male reader (M,S,F)

- A Helping Hand - Dean W x Male reader (M,S,F)

J3 Bingo:

SPNAUBINGO:

All Fandoms Bingo:

Gif Imagines

#1 - Stranger - Rick Grimes x M!Reader

#2 -

#x male reader #male reader

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crowwritesaway · 8 months ago

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Requests are Open.

#btvs x reader #btvs spike #spike x you #spike x reader #yandere idol #yandere albert wesker #yandere resident evil #thomas shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x oc #yandere idol x reader #yandere x female reader #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x reader

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prose-for-hire · 2 years ago

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She hates me

This was my fic for @idabbleincrazy‘s 1k I can’t believe it’s classic rock challenge !!

(I’m sorry it’s so ridiculously late, but I still wanted to post it !!)

Pairing: Spike x fem!reader

(or I guess it can be read as Spike x Buffy maaaybe if she was a little ooc and you just squint a little)

Desc: I chose the song She hates me by Puddle of mudd and the phrase ‘Oh fuck off’ !! I decided to actually... challenge myself for this challenge and write something with a bit more angst. Rather than ‘you’ I use ‘she’ pronouns throughout.

Warning: unresolved angst, swearing, arguing, alcohol consumption.

The room was dark by design, the lights dimmed as much as they could be. The clientele of the place weren’t the kind to appreciate any kind of harsh lighting. Not just because it may harm the several pairs of eyes on some demons faces, but because it made it easier to navigate without the stares the less humanoid in feature were accustomed to.

He had braved the bar despite almost every demon in there having him at the top of their hit list. He needed this, needed to be away from the crypt. Everywhere he looked it reminded him of her. Of moments of fervent intimacy. Of stolen moments where she appeared to be right there with him.

Now he couldn’t stop second-guessing it. Everything. Finally seeing through what had been so obvious, if he hadn’t been distracted by how deeply he felt for her.

He sat at the bar. Hunched over his drink. He was several rounds in and not even likely to be halfway through his alcohol intake for the night. Regulars would recognise his face and mutter in disdain, but he didn’t care. His mind was on her. It was always on her.

Here he was again, a place he had found himself in much more frequently. Since her. He always found himself, alone, sitting at the bar and knocking back as much liquor as he could take. He had become a regular, giving the phrase ‘drowning your sorrows’ a new meaning.

There had been a silence for a moment, only interrupted occasionally by growls and whispers about him by demons from the corners of the room. Someone had hit the faulty jukebox on their way past to the bar and jolted it back into action. It was magically programmed to have any song on there that one could imagine and yet this one starts up. He scoffed, downing the rest of his drink.

Met a girl, thought she was grand. Fell in love, found out first hand…

The voice reverberated around his head, making him feel like the room was spinning. Or, perhaps that was the alcohol. His jaw tensed at the words, managing to hear through the fog of his mind and fully experience the meaning.

Because, well, the words spoke to him. He felt them. He was thinking them before the lyrics had put it painfully back into the forefront of his mind.

Went well for a week or two. Then it all came unglued

He growled at this, an involuntary response. His anger began to seep from every pore. About the situation. About her. He turned swiftly and threw an empty glass bottle at the speakers.

The bartender tries to intervene and ask him to leave but before he opened his mouth, he saw Spike’s demeanour. This man was in pain and he had a soft spot for the lonely, heartbroken demons of Sunnydale.

“Let me get you a drink” He offered as Spike patted his pockets down for any cash.

“Hey, this one’s on me. You wanna talk about it?” The bartender asked, scanning the blonde vampire as he spoke.

“Don’t swing that way, mate” He said flatly. Although he cast an eye over the man before he said so. No, he was too concerned with her. As he always was. He could only ever go her way and that was what made this worse. He wanted to fuck away the image of her in his mind. Drink it away. Do anything that could possibly burn her image from where it was stuck fast in his brain.

“Uh, no. I’m offering my ear pal. Most say I’m good to vent to” He shrugged, a third arm slid from under the bar to pass him a drink.

In a trap, trip I can't grip. Never thought I'd be the one who'd slip

“She’s bloody left again… left me hollow – a space she could only fill” he groaned, knowing how pathetic he sounded.

Spike had been trapped. In the web of the words she would spin for him. Such beautiful words that had spoken to his romantic heart. To the idea that had always lived in his mind that he would find the one. One that would last an eternity. That he could love with both heart and mind.

He thought back to how it had been. He began to recount it to the guy behind the bar. Visions of the good that clouded his mind, made him near ready to get up of his seat and walk straight to her. Sink to his knees before her, promise her that his heart would never stray. No matter what she thought. What she said. He hated that he was this way, hated that he would lose the last thread of his pride so that he could tie it into a bow and gift it to her.

She had walked out on him three times, including the latest incident. This one had been the worst, there was something so final about it. That look on her face. As if she wouldn’t care if he had been dusted before her eyes.

When it was good though, it was really good. Devastatingly good. Addictive, even. They spent hours in bed, skin touching skin. There were rough, passionate encounters that led to both parties panting and glowing with pleasure. Other times could be surprisingly tender, holding hands and whispers that led to feelings spilling out. Mostly from Spike, but she had let on that she felt something during the throws of passion.

When they were alone this way, he felt as if he were on top of the world.

Then I started to realize. I was living one big lie…

He had known from the beginning that their relationship, or whatever it was, would have to be a secret. It had been fun at first, sneaking around under everyone’s noses. That was until the guilt settled in. He noticed that she started to pull away. Refused to even discuss telling anyone or calling their relationship what it was. She couldn’t let anybody know about them.

Spike sighed, nursing his drink as he explained how it had been getting harder to get time alone with her. How she didn’t even acknowledge his existence around other people. Especially not her precious Scoobies.

“Didn’t speak to me, would barely look my way. Pretended like the night before hadn’t happened” He said, his voice cracked at the memory. At how she could walk through her life as if it meant nothing. That he meant nothing to her.

He wanted to hold her, to have some sort of intimacy that wasn’t just a quickie whenever she could find the time to slip into the crypt unannounced. But after a while, she always insisted she was busy. Found excuses for why she couldn’t stay very long after they finished up. It hurt him. Wounded him in such a way that his insecurity became too much.

He had started to follow her, to see if there was another guy. One that she left his bed to see. He never caught her with anyone but she did catch him following her one night. He had thought he was at a safe distance but somehow she had spotted him. Might have been something to do with the cloud of smoke that signalled his presence.

She had screamed at him and, although he knew he was in the wrong, he shouted back. That had been the beginning of the end, he realised. She didn’t trust him as much, wouldn’t come round as often. Not even to allow him to explain.

He sighed, trying to explain himself to the demon behind the bar, “She just-”

She fucking hates me. Trust, she fucking hates me

The music kicked back in and finished his sentence for him as he lit up a cigarette and recalled the events of earlier that evening. They had been arguing. Again. He saw her pulling away further and had confronted her about it. Seeking solace, some kind of reassurance that she would stay. Instead, he was met with her blank expression as she waited for him to finish his usual accusatory speech.

Instantly, he felt her disinterest and interpreted it in his own mind. People didn’t love as deeply or as earnestly as he seemed to, or at least wouldn’t admit to it. Especially not her and so he decided that she must truly hate him. There was no other possible explanation.

She snapped. She was sick of having to stroke his ego every time she saw him. And she told him this. The conversation turned ugly. Eventually, he asked her to leave, to never come back and hoping that she would plead with him to let her stay. The way he knew that he would had it been the other way round. He just needed her to show some kind of emotion, give him some kind of reaction. Something, anything that would give him hope.

He could remember it now, as if it was… well around three hours ago. He could see it playing out on a loop in his mind’s eye. Just how much she appeared to loathe him and clearly herself just for being with him. It hurt, a deep and devastating ache that ate him from the inside out.

“Oh fuck off!” he had shouted, kicking the nearest piece of furniture to him and splintering it in his frustration. He scanned her face, it was unmoving and set.

“Happily,” She said, shrugging and storming away. The crypt began to shake at the force she slammed the door shut behind her.

“Bloody women!” He shouted, kicking the cupboard again for good measure.

I tried too hard and she tore my feelings like I had none. And ripped them away

It gets worse. He couldn’t leave it, despite shouting at her to leave him to rest in peace. He followed her out as she weaved between the gravestones. Trying to get her to come back to the crypt. Hopefully apologise in bed, the best way he knew how. But she was over it. She had gone colder, her eyes would have betrayed her though if he could bare to look in them.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck-off-and leave-you-alone-for-the-rest-of eternity or else?”

“Look, just stop, would you? I was angry, ‘cause you’re, well, you’re you and I’m… me”

“I’m not in the mood for riddles, Spike” She warned, as he sighed. He would have to do this. And now. He adored her. Needed her more than he had ever needed anything in his un-life.

“I love you, pet, always have” He insisted, taking her hand in his. She watched him for a minute, as if to discern if it was some kind of joke.

“You don’t love me, you… you don’t even know how. I think you’re right, we should keep a distance from each other. I can’t do this anymore. It’s shit.” She stated clearly. No emotion in her voice and Spike interpreted it in the most disastrous way possible. She didn’t care about him.

“Love-” He grabbed her arm desperately. Trying to pull her into him but she shrugged him off, looking ahead of her rather than at him.

“Bye Spike” she said, steely tone made him choke back a sob. As all of the past rejections he had faced mingled with the freshest one, which had become the deepest and most painful.

She was queen for about an hour. After that, shit got sour

All the good memories swam to the surface after she walked away, drowning all of the bad. Just to make the loss sting even more.

All the lazy mornings/evenings that they spent in bed together. Kissing and talking when she had time. The times they spent patrolling, laughing and working together to slay the demons. He loved the way she looked when she laughed, it made her face look so much brighter.

There were times where he had convinced her to stay at the Bronze when he arrived. They had danced, bodies pressed together in a way that felt natural. As if they were a proper couple. It had been fun, she had relaxed around him. Pressing a kiss against his lips on the busy dancefloor even though people she knew might have been there. They even played a few drinking games, leaving together to go to the crypt later to continue the fun.

But the good times never lasted. Some of the worse memories came back to the surface. They were very different people in some ways, they found themselves arguing fiercely, over anything. Just because one was in a bad mood and had taken it out on the other. They struggled to find anything to agree on during a bad day.

The way she would leave as soon as they finished up in bed always left him feeling like shit. Sometimes without a second glance at him as she got dressed and hurried out of the crypt. The look of shame that clouded her face when they were together, the way she blamed him for how she felt. She felt gross inside, lying to people and sleeping with someone that had tried to kill her more than once. She took all the love and care he had offered her and left him, lonely, in his crypt without a shred of reciprocation.

She took all I ever had. No sign of guilt

Not feeling bad, no

“She- she just treats me as if I’m nothing, barely looks at me on a good day” He sighed continuing his explanation of the recent events to the demon behind the bar, “Sees me as a monster, I can see it you know… the kind from her personal nightmares”

“Why don’t you move on, pal, huh? She’s not worth it” He offered as he cleaned down the counter.

“You don’t understand, she’s the love of my un-life”

“But you’re obviously not hers” He shrugged and realised he wasn’t helping when Spike stood up as if to fight the bar tender, who quickly surrendered and turned away to look busy.

He sat back down and nursed his drink, shaking his head and downing the rest before demanding another. He thought about it, he swore she felt the same sometimes. It wasn’t often she left her guard down but it was there. She enjoyed the sex, he knew that much. But he had hoped there was a deeper reason why she kept coming back for more.

They had laughed together at the beginning, shared things. Nothing too deep but you pick things up about another when you spend as much time as they did. Enough to love someone. Enough to make them your every thought.

But the way she reacted when he professed his love was nothing that he could have ever expected. She barely even blinked. She had taken his heart in her hands and crushed it into a fine powder. The kind that could never be pieced back together. The kind that couldn’t be retrieved or replicated by anyone else. He had a hole where his heart should be. His heart now lost somewhere with his soul, in the ether.

In a trap, trip I can't grip. Never thought I'd be the one who'd slip

By the time he left the bar in the early hours of the morning, he had convinced himself he didn’t care about her. Didn’t need her. She was cruel and cold and… the only person that had ever owned his heart in this way. The one person that made him feel alive again. Made him quiver with want.

God, he couldn’t get over this in a night. He didn’t think he would ever get over it. He had fallen for her deep and he wished he hadn’t. He always did this, became love’s bitch. The fool that fell so deep without thought or reason. But never had he fallen as deep as this. He ached for her. Longed for her, in both sleep and wake.

It was meant to be a bit of fun. Shagging and sneaking around. Until, of course the inevitable happened. He should have known this would happen. Especially when he had suddenly been inspired to write poetry for the first time in several decades. But he had been oblivious, these feelings growing fast and strong.

He now felt as though he was caught up in a maze with no end in sight. A predicament he wasn’t always sure he wanted to escape. Stuck, loving her for eternity when she probably hadn’t thought twice about him since she walked away. Yet, he was all in. Even now, after everything. The constant arguments. Her lack of emotion. Her coldness.

Then I started to realize. I was livin' one big lie

As he staggered through the dark streets, he knew deep within that if she even gave him a moment of attention again, changed her mind and offered to come back to his crypt even now that he would say yes. He wouldn’t even stop to think.

Through the entire night, as he tried to convince himself and the bartender that he was over her, he was thinking about how he would give anything to be in bed with her again. To slog through the pain, the disgust or worse, that blank expressionless look that may flash across her face just for that sweet moment they may share briefly.

He knew she was annoyed. Mad. Tired of the constant arguments. The sneaking around. The lying she was doing to her friends. And she blamed him. For being this monster, just as he blamed himself. She made him wish his un-life away.

But the truth was, he would go through all of that again, just to be close to her. He would allow her to set him on fire. Stake him through the heart. He would bathe with her in holy water, just for a single moment by her side.

Trust, she fucking hates me…

#Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike x you #Spike imagine #Spike btvs x reader #btvs #btvs x you #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #buffy summers #spike #buffy x spike #spuffy #if you squint?#female reader #Song Fic

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years ago

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Could you do a spike (btvs) x female reader with her telling him she’s bi . I hope your staying safe and are ok x

Since I said I was especially interested in gif imagine requests, I’m gonna write this as such. Next time please read my rules before requesting, and specify the type of request!

#hope you're safe and okay too anon #anon ask #ask #gif imagine request #pride request #btvs request #btvs gif imagine request #spike request #spike gif imagine request #anon request

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sunnydaleherald · 1 year ago

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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, August 23rd

BUFFY: Yeah, well love isn't logical, Riley. It's not like you can be Mister Joe Sensible about it all the time. BUFFY: God knows I haven't been. RILEY: I'm not talking about you.

~~New Moon Rising~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Winning by badly_knitted (Willow, Buffy, PG)

Solace by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Buffy at Chilton by mmooch (Gilmore Girls crossover, Buffy, T)

bait by ausfortheheart (angelus x female!reader, not rated but see the warnings in the header)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Old Fashioned Romance - Chapter 1 by calikocat (Captain America crossover, Xander, ensemble, T)

Colonial Bride, Ch. 15 by Feanix88 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Anything We Want, Part 2, Ch. 11 by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Keepsakes, Ch. 50 by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Truth Shall Set You Free, Ch. 16-17 by Geliot99 (Buffy/Spike, R)

The Plunge, Ch. 17 by Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

When paths cross, Ch. 2 by To Be Hers (Buffy/Spike, G)

The Woods, Revisited, Ch. 1-3 (COMPLETE!) by Lonely Vampire (Buffy/Spike, R)

It Started in Oxnard - How it All Began by redjacobson (multiple crossovers, Xander/Tara/Harmony/Cordelia/Drusilla/Jenny C/Susie/Daria/Ellen, NC-17)

Anything We Want, Part 2, Ch. 11 by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Keepsakes, Ch. 50 by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

where the shadow ends, Ch. 10 by disco-tea (Buffy/Spike, R)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Gifs: Paint the Town Red by andremichaux (Faith, probably worksafe, there's a gun)

Artwork: Giles and an OC by mavlotov (worksafe)

Painting: They are so problematic fr by keelifallen (Buffy/Spike, worksafe)

Artwork: Cringefail trash man by keelifallen (Spike, worksafe, includes Nikki Wood's death scene)

Drawing: Angelus by lonelyhedgehoh (worksafe)

Manips: Spike, Is That You? See Our Favorite Buffy Vampire in Fan Favorite Films and TV Shows by Steph and Diana Franco (Spike, worksafe)

Vidlet: I'm Just Ken by aworldwithoutshrimp (Spike, worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

continuing my btvs semi-liveblog by eldritchwyrm (from "The Harsh Light of Day" to "The Initiative")

The Initiative, Pangs, Something Blue, Hush by eldritchwyrm

Book rec: Big Bad by Lily Anderson recommended by childlikegoblinqueen

Reptile Boy by jvstheworld

The great monologues by joe_moreland_

Eliza Dushku was a better "Buffy in Faith's body" than SMG was "Faith in Buffy's body." by ejchristian86

Episode 104: The Body – Myth Taken: A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Podcast

Episode 36: Homecoming by Gym Was Cancelled: A Buffy Podcast

[Community Announcements]

Details about the upcoming Spooky September event at Sunnydale After Dark

[Fandom Discussions]

Thinking about the soul canon again by evilwickedme

Xander’s position in the episode ‘Into The Woods’ by girl4music

[Bangel] they’re FASCINATING. y’all just think the show doesn’t know... by jenny-calendar

A sequel series idea by kidtectonic

Recast Buffy The Vampire Slayer Cast hosted by Khalesssi_Slayer1

Pop Culture Role Call: You Said What?!

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series

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ao3feed-btvs · 8 years ago

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Baby, that's not a toy

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2qfo5qZ

by flowers476

From the readers point of view, as a slayer. Your relationship with Spike changes hard and fast.

"See, you've warmed up to me. I knew you would."

Words: 1005, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Spike (BtVS), Original Female Character(s)

Relationships: spike & you, Spike/Original Character, Spike (BtVS)/Reader

Additional Tags: Spike - Freeform, Female Reader, x Reader, & reader, & you, Smut

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2qfo5qZ

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

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Undead sweethearts

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: thanks to YOU missy, I am in love with Spike! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN? I've always been an Angel girl! with that in mind, may I please ask for a Spike imagine? instead of Drusilla (I LOVE her,but) ,yn is the one who turned him. She's the "nice vampire" and they've lived a love story for the ages (I'm in a sappy mood) pleeeeeeeeease?

Requested by: Anonymous

You remembered it as if it were yesterday, the day you saw the one your heart belonged to. It was signed and sealed for him and the moment your eye cast upon him, you knew his heart had your name on it. You saw him, running with tears in his eyes. It ached, it sprung tears to your eyes as you had followed him quickly.

You had always felt so deeply, so much more than any of your other demon counterparts. You identified something in him, in his humanity that nobody else had come near to making you feel.

You followed him, your heart aching as those soulful eyes poured with such emotion. His body wracked with the way they teased. With the way they harmed him.

You wished to assist him. Give him a new life. A life where he would be appreciated. Adored. You wished to show him love and heart.

You didn’t know what it was, but you saw such promise. You felt his loneliness as if it were your own. You had been so alone. And then you had seen him.

He was wary of you at first but as you spoke he began to feel it. Love at first site. Some kind of destined love. The stars aligning. Your blood and his.

Angelus had never liked you much, you were strong-willed, stood up to him even when you shouldn’t. No matter how hard he tried (and he had really tried) he couldn’t break you. His insults rolled of you. His violence easily brushed off. You didn’t share his values. You didn’t particularly enjoy the hunt, let alone the twisted way he played with his food. He hated it. Hated you.

So, when you found your Spike, you were overjoyed. You were the woman of his dreams. You spent every waking moment with him. You had fast fallen in love. So deeply. Making Angelus and the rest of those you lived with to be near sickened by such affection. You were very physically affectionate. Always one hand on the other, twisting an arm around the other. Interlacing your fingers absentmindedly. Whispering hushed sonnets of adoration in each other’s ears.

You were so very physically affectionate, doting on each other. He had written such sweet poetry in his youth. In his younger years as a vampire even. He still quoted it to this day although new hobbies had taken over his writings. He enjoyed hunting slayers. Killing them. Which is how you had ended up moving to Sunnydale.

You loved each other so intrinsically. Undead Sweethearts. It was the easiest thing in the world. You were sat in his lap, in the abandoned warehouse he had taken as your new home. You were sitting in the lower level, pressing the softest kisses against the crook of his neck.

“Do you know how much I love you, William?” You whispered after pressing another soft kiss against his neck. He had closed his eyes at the sensation his hand sliding up your back, the other resting on your thigh as you leaned into him.

You would sit this way for hours. Basking in your joint adoration. In the feeling of this. Of such sweet love. You could be so affectionate it made him want to cry. Because you never for one moment in all of his unlife made him feel as if he were alone. As if he wasn’t strong or good enough.

You would never withhold your love. You showed him he was worth the entire world to you.

“How much, pet?” He whispered, his tone hushed.

“With every inch of my blackened soul” You giggled, a hand caressing his cheek. Sliding to reach behind his skull weaving your fingers between the short bleached hair at the back of his head. You knew he liked the sensation. He always exhaled despite it being unnecessary.

“That a lot?”

“It’s so much! Your heart and mine… they’re in love like we are”

“Mm, if they could beat it’d be together. I know it, love. I feel it” He nodded along with his words, you moved to kiss his lips at this. At the way he agreed without embarrassment. He was wholly in love. And he didn’t care who knew. He would do anything for you. He would even die for you… again.

Such care enveloped you. You had been together for centuries and yet forever by each other’s side would never be enough. You were together. For always.

But it didn’t mean that Spike’s mind didn’t worry. Didn’t cast to the insecurity that had plagued his mind since he was human.

“You’re everything, love. You won’t ever leave will you?” His voice went quiet at the end and you turned immediately to face him.

“Hey, hush!” You reprimanded him and the way his mind could wonder, “I wouldn’t dream of it” You confirmed softly. Another gentle kiss against his lips.

He slid a hand from where it was now resting on your hip, trailing a path with his fingers along your body against your chest. Where your heart would be. You rested your hand over his, rubbing your thumb softly. Wishing you could rid that soft furrow that appeared when he worried about losing you.

You always insisted he never would. But you understood. You could never be mad at him for the way his anxiety over losing you showed. It made you feel his love further and being able to reassure him in a way that could soothe him made you both feel better.

You held such reverence for the other. Your other hand slid from the back of his neck, caressing the chain that always hung around his neck. The same as the one around yours. You wore a vial of each other’s blood. To symbolise the way that both of your blood belonged with each other.

It meant that any demon, no matter how far apart you and your love were would know that you belonged to each other. You drank from each other often, but this had been a symbol of your affection. An outward representation of this unending love. A bond of such deep meaning. It had been Spike’s idea, he had thought on it. Wanted everyone to know that you were his.

Your love weaved like a vine. Strong and ever-growing. No forces of evil, nor good for that matter, could break it. It hadn’t for centuries. And it never would.

Some may think that you didn’t fit. Your morality was abstract and not what one may necessarily associate with an evil vampire. Whereas Spike embodied the stereotypical big bad vampire aesthetic. But somehow you just worked.

You brought the softness out of each other. You always got each other’s best.

#Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #btvs #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs imagine #btvs x reader #btvs x you #female reader #vampire reader #vampire #female

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

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Comfort blanket

Pairing: Spike x fem!reader

Request: hii! may i request an super fluffy spike x (female) reader fanfic? i was thinking maybe he’s comforting the reader while there’s a storm outside and they’re both scared lol. it’s just one of my headcanons that spikes afraid of thunderstorms and i think it’s be really cute!!💗

Requested by: @froglettuce

Angry rainclouds had been threatening you all week. Staring and taunting you until they finally spilled over. Spiting you with every raindrop that landed around your home. A thunderstorm was brewing. The growling, thunderous beast rearing its head again. A demon neither you nor Spike had managed to defeat.

You had locked yourselves into your home, shutting the horrible weather out of your lives and hopefully out of your minds. You had both been restless through the day. Not mentioning your anxiety over the threatening storm.

Thunder rumbled through the air, the beast descending. The sound cracked like a whip as the heavy rain fall continued. The weather had been unpleasant through the entire day and it only got worse into the cold night.

The storm now taking full force. The night making you feel much more vulnerable to it. The room lit up again with the lightning and you screwed your eyes shut, anticipating the thunder.

You had been trying to sleep alone but it was no use. You crawled out of bed and into the living room. Looking desperately for your Spike. You had been on opposite schedules recently, Spike had been trying to keep a human sleeping schedule but it was a hard habit to break.

And with the weather being what it was, he didn’t expect to sleep at all until it was over. His senses were heightened anyway so he was always on guard. Always expecting something coming his way. Some kind of threat.

He was a light sleeper and often only came to bed to be by your side. Make sure that you were safe. With him. He didn’t like thunderstorms, he never had. Ever since he was human. But it had continued through his decades as a vampire.

You were wrapped in a fluffy blanket as you slid onto the sofa beside him wordlessly. You were a little embarrassed at how frightened you were of the weather. He felt your presence, already feeling a little better now you were there by his side. He had wanted to slide into bed beside you, but he needed something to do rather than just listening to the storm.

“Spike…” You whispered.

“Pet?” He asked, turning the volume down and scanning your face. The volume had been loud, he was worried he had woken you up.

“I’m scared”

“The weather?” You nodded and he immediately pulled you into him. His frown set on his face. He was also embarrassed. Didn’t want to tell you how much he hated the noise. The weather. He wanted to be the man, to protect you. Be the strong one just like he thought he should be.

He cradled your head, kissing your forehead. He could be so incredibly soft when he knew it was what you needed. Anything for you, the woman he loved.

The thunder rolled in again, furious growls in your direction before it retreated again. You cuddled up to him as you heard it, screwing up your eyes.

You felt him tense but you didn’t say anything. You just nestled into him. He frowned, knowing you must be able to tell. If his heart could beat, it would be at the same pace as yours. Almost out of his chest.

He nodded once, steeling himself to tell you. To admit something he thought you may laugh at him for. But you were always so honest with him. So caring, he should have known you never would have laughed.

“I don’t like it either”

“Hm?” You asked, tensing slightly as the room lit up again. This time he didn’t try to hide that he did the same thing. A frown settling onto his face as the weather got harsher.

“The weather. Can’t settle, can’t barely think” He shrugged slightly, gesturing to his head with a shake of his hand. You could tell he really meant it. He was uncomfortable about admitting it, but he did it.

Because it was you. You were proud of him. For the way he wanted to be vulnerable with you. The way he had shown courage even when you were both feeling this anxiety.

That was why the tv was so loud, he explained. As a distraction. You nodded, leaning into him softly and pressing several kisses. Some against his temple, before lowering to adore his cheeks. Peppering him with such tiny kisses.

He closed his eyes slowly, savouring the contact. The feeling of safety he felt when you were with him. How he could rely on you, your tender love. Your sweet affection.

You moved, sharing the blanket with him. He helped you bundle it up, wrapping it around you both as you got into a comfortable position together. You fit perfectly. Sharing the warmth. Making a comfortable warmth around you. An armour for the both of you to share.

You settled together for a while, his arm around your shoulder as he rested his head against yours. You held onto him from beneath the blankets, clinging to him.

The ran pelted against the window. Darkness loomed outside, scratching at the panes. Threatening to tear your nerves to shreds. To separate you both should you leave the safety of your home.

But you were protected here. Together. Away from the battle of the elements outside.

He jumped violently, his arms snaking around you tighter. And you pressed yourself closer into his chest. Wrapping your arms around his middle. Making sure you got as close as you could. Both offering and taking comfort from him.

Together, you could last the night. You could watch as much crappy tv as you could handle. Pressing further and further into each other. Soft kisses and soothing touches. You had never felt closer to him. The way he cared to assure you, pressing these adoring and doting feelings into your skin.

He wished to protect you. Make you feel stronger by his side. In your shared vulnerability you could feel so connected. You were each other’s comfort blankets. Entwined together.

After this, every time there was a storm in the night you felt Spike pressing beside you in bed instantly. He no longer tried to wait it out himself. Blaring noise to try and drown it out. He reached for you instead, taking his strength from you. You were both still frightened but it was easier when you were together.

You would whisper, talking through how you were feeling. Distracting the other. Laying such earnest affection on the other.

While you were lying in bed he would often duck under your arm, pressing himself against you. Your arm looped around him, cradling him against you. Whispering sweet reassurances to you as you replied in kind. Hushed tone soothing him instantly just as much as your gentle caress.

You could face it, this ill-meaning foe, so long as you were together.

#Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine #fluffy #v fluffy #female #female reader

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

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Love, Hate, Love: Part three

Part One // Part Two

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Spike and the reader disliked each other until they recall their shared past. They finally acknowledge it and their feelings begin to spill - but is it too late? This is the final part !!

Originally requested by: @therapieliteratur

Warning: Alcohol consumption. Implied sex. Very dodgy/amateur-ish inserted poetry lol

A/N: I don’t have anything for Valentine’s this year, so this will have to do !! Happy Valentine’s Day loves 💖🖤

The evening swept around him, the wind hissing mocking taunts as he ran from the broken promise of your love.

As William sobbed, he stumbled into the field that harboured that oak tree. Once a solace, now a marker of his loss. A gravestone to your love.

His heart was shattered and he made a decision, one that would mean you would never see him again.

In that moment, you were facing your own battle. You still lived with your parents. They did not permit you to leave that afternoon. You panicked, explaining yourself and the reason you were so desperate to go. Which just made it worse.

“Father, please!” You screamed, tears streaming hot and salted, “Please understand, William is a good man. Of a good family”

“Other arrangements have been made, child” He warned, not explaining what these were. You weren’t expected to know or comprehend.

“I love him!” You shouted. The house stopped still. Nobody moved. You were supposed to be seen, not heard. Respect your mother and father’s will. Your mother cried and begged, trying to still you from leaving.

But you managed it, running all the way to the chapel, pleading solace with the vicar. Only to find that your lovers heart was shattered and broken on the floor.

It sounded like broken glass under your feet as your tear-stained wedding gown clung to you.

You had returned from the school a week ago and fitfully rested since. You had offered your hand to help Spike up. He hadn’t taken it, but he hesitated before he told you to go away. The bite in his voice had gone. Neither of you wished to use such harsh tones anymore.

You were back in your home again. Another monotonous fight finished. They all seemed the same. You sighed, shaking your bra to remove the dust from your cleavage.

It was a few days since you last shared your dreams and suddenly you began to crumble under the weight of your tears. Crying almost as much as you had that night as that memory kept flashing behind your eyes. It still felt so fresh. How he hadn’t been there. How you had been too late.

Your legs gave out from under you. Somehow, you were on your knees. Sobbing on the tile of your kitchen floor.

You didn’t realise, but he was out there. Watching. He had followed you home and seen that you lived in a house. A real one. He had scoffed at this and that you had paid over the odds for necro-tempered glass so that you could sit in some kind of sunlight without burning in your own home. He knew this, because he had found an invoice when he had been rooting in your trash.

He was smoking when he saw the kitchen light turn on. You were visible until you dropped to the floor. Eyes leaking with such emotion.

It physically hurt him to see you that way as he moved closer to the window. Tears started to prickle behind his eyes, a lump forming at the back of his throat. He wished to wrap his arms around you. Be allowed in your house, to offer comfort. For you to want his comfort.

He had always hated to see you cry.

In the following weeks, as Spike healed, your hearts began to break over and over. You avoided facing each other, it was too painful even to be in the same room.

Spike stayed outside your house more frequently and you found yourself napping a lot more than usual, just in case you caught the moment he would be sleeping too.

You longed for him in sleep just as he pined for you in reality. You began to want each other in all manner of consciousness. Defying the pain. The hatred you had once been so convinced of. All you wanted was the other and it infuriated you. Whilst somehow simultaneously being a solace.

You were a comfort blanket that the other held close. Wrapped around your hearts for protection. Soft like Sunday morning sheets dipped in the sun’s rays. The warmth of summer days meeting the whispering of cool winter nights.

The care you had weaved in and out of your hearts left a thread. A thread that entwined with theirs and tugged towards the other. The feeling was the last thing you could cling to.

But the pain, the loss. It was creeping up on you both. It always was. Becoming harder and harder to bear. The dreams and memories becoming more and more tainted. The worse, most painful parts taking up most of the dreams.

Despite all of this, you both settled in to sleep much earlier than you ever had before. You still wanted to touch the other, feel the other’s mind. Emotions through the dream. The truth of your love. The promise that it had been real for both of you. Even if it were for mere seconds.

You looked out of the window again, sighing, staring out into the night. Not realising Spike was staring back. You were too in your own head.

You saw it now, where you hadn’t been able to before. His softer side. The lover’s heart that was still firmly planted on his sleeve. How had you missed the attention he had given to Drusilla? How had you ignored the way he spoke about her. Protected her.

Why do you now envy her? Him? For the love story you were never allowed.

You remembered so much now. You both defied convention. You always had. Now you were starting to notice all of the similarities he had to that young man you agreed to marry. You craved him. His touch. His mind.

Through the next few days, the dreams became more frequent again. More scenes from the past. More feelings. Multiple times in the night. Both of you guiltily looking forward to them. The first part, anyway. It was worth the heartache, the hollow loss at the end. To be able to touch each other again, even briefly. Just like it had been.

You had both began to write again, feverish emotions and memories spinning. You had rediscovered your love for poetry as well as that guilty affection you held for the other.

You arrived in the school library one late afternoon. Spike had seen you crying that first time a while ago now and had been watching your house more often than he would like to admit. Your heart ached with every waking moment and you felt yourself walking through life as some kind of emotion-exhausted zombie might.

“Nice of you to join” Xander murmured with a smile. You had been late. You got caught up by the vampire that often tried to make you pay him to pass by ‘his’ turf in the underground tunnel system.

Oh, right, now the vampire that used to make you pay to pass him in the tunnels.

“Yeah, sorry. What’s the sitch?” You asked, a well-practiced smile now stitched on your face for them. You weren’t really expecting much of an update as you started to shake some dust out of your hair.

“It’s Spike. We can’t just let him walk anymore. I’m goin’ out tonight and putting an end to his reign of stupid”

“N-no” You said, unsure why your mouth had moved of your own accord. You had stopped what you were doing and now just staring vaguely at the middle of the room.

“What?”

“Y/n, you know as well as we do, if not more so, what may happen should we allow Spike to continue his ill-thought out tyranny at will”

“He’s not exactly enemy number one is all I meant” You shrugged slowly, still staring unblinkingly as more memories flashed behind your eyes. He was so human in your mind, you couldn’t let that go. Even despite everything you knew about him. The goodness, no matter how limited it appeared, was starting to shine through.

“How can you even begin to defend-”

“Isn’t there a major mayor-related-massacre threatening at any moment? Shouldn’t we care more about immediate threat than some vampire who would sell his remaining brain cell for some box-bleach?”

“Spike’s dangerous though, Y/n. With the threatening and the, uh, hostage-taking-of-me” Willow said softly. It made you feel so guilty. It tore you in half, her words. You berated yourself. For clinging to that rare happiness you felt in those dreams you shared at the expense of real lives.

Your feelings all ran at each other at once. A fated fight. To the death. Neither side was winning or losing, but the battle waged on fiercely.

“Okay. But let me do it” Your eyes almost pleading with them and after some consideration, they agreed. It was you and him, to the very end.

You waited for him at the bar. Simultaneously wishing him to arrive and hoping that he never did.

He arrived, walking towards you, the dim glow of the bar making his prominent cheekbones cast a shadow against his cheeks. Your eyes were transfixed on him, he moved in slow motion. Adjusting the shoulder of his leather duster as he walked.

As he came towards the bar, your eyes flashed between seeing him in reality stalking up to the bar and William walking, smiling towards you. The pictures cutting and splicing themselves together until it was one man.

Nostalgia sticking to your mind like glue, running into your eyes. Blurring the two. He was the same man. Your mind was becoming more and more sure of this.

Which was why this was going to be so hard.

Neither of you pretended the other wasn’t there today, you gestured for him to sit next to you on the spare seat. He stared for a moment, an eyebrow quirked in confusion before he just shrugged and threw himself down beside you.

“Lookie here, if it isn’t the runaway bride” He said, his voice bit deeper than he had expected. He remembered, then. You hadn’t been sure.

“Will- uh, Spike. I didn’t run” You corrected him, without elaboration.

“Yeah, well, suppose it’s not running if you didn’t bother to turn up in the first place”

“That is way not fair! I was totally-” He raised his eyebrows at your phrasing and tensed his jaw at your lie. You cut yourself off, trying to rephrase.

You explained. Exactly what had happened and how you had stayed there all night and through the next day despite the biting cold and rain. Your wedding gown soaked through, but you wouldn’t move.

You explained that you had hoped he would know you had run into trouble. That you would be there when you could.

And Spike believed you. Even when you were younger, he could always tell when you had been lying. This was probably the most honest you had been with him since you had met again.

Spike’s eyes were threatening to spill over again and he hid it by looking downwards, he was about to say something. Reply to your recount of that day, apologise for leaving so quickly, when you were interrupted.

“He bothering you, Y/n?” The bartender asked, gesturing with his head at Spike. Every time he saw you and Spike together there was a fight and you looked more miserable than usual.

“No, uh, we’re on a date. This is, like, my happy face” You assured him with a blank expression that made him laugh, “I’ll have my usual and whatever William usually drinks.”

The bartender looked at Spike, trying to hide his obvious laughter at his real name. No wonder he had chosen Spike. Spike glared, first at you and then at the bar tender. Who surrendered and moved away to make your drinks.

You did shoot Spike an apologetic look. It had slipped out again.

When you received your round you drank in silence for a while. Your thoughts marinating in your brains. Sitting beside each other, sharing a drink – it was alien. But neither of you could help enjoying it.

He knew now that he still loved you. It hurt and he was confused with himself for it, but he couldn’t deny it. Not any longer. You had been all he ever wanted and even now he just wanted to hold you against him the way he had fantasised about in his human years.

He found himself wanting to understand you. Wanting to be allowed beneath your scarred surface. He wished to comfort you when you cried. He wished to relearn the patterns of your mind. He knew your sweet poetry wasn’t lost, just like it wasn’t in his own mind.

You knew you would have never been able to do it. As soon as he walked in, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The stake in your sleeve was splintering uncomfortably and you let it. Your penance for what you were about to say.

“I came here to kill you” You admitted, “Slayer wants you dead”

“And you and your soul’s okay with that one? Pretty little off switch your morality got, isn’t it?” He laughed humourlessly swigging from his drink, “My life’s not worth anything when there’s nothin’ in it for you and yours”

“You could run” You let the suggestion hang in the air.

“And the Slayer would let that happen? Me toddlin’ off until the next time our paths cross and then it’s dust in the wind. For the both of us” He accused. Telling you what you had always known. Your fates were entwined. You had lived and loved together. Been sired at similar times, managed to grasp onto your unlives despite the constant threat. Your soul ached for him, his missing but still showing even if it was just in your own eyes.

You took it in turns to buy the other their drink of choice. It really was like the date you had never been on. You sat in silence, each considering what had been said. Until it had gotten too much for you.

You couldn’t hide, nor run anymore. The shift was too great. Tectonic.

He caught your eye, as you watched him closely. Were you going to say this?

“I look at you and I see that oak tree, those freckles. That smile you used to give me that was ours. Like a secret that only we knew” You spoke, voice wavering and glass crunching under your hand as you held your cup too tight, “I hear the poetry, feel the breeze on my face. I can even feel the bodice that used to dig into me as we sat on the grass…” Your voice caught as his face started to soften at your confession, “I know this is selfish and… wrong. But y-you’re him. The only love ever allowed in my heart. The only one that ever will be. You’ve not changed in the way you think you have, my love” You finished, your accent switching in and out from the one you used to have and the one you used now.

He was reeling from your words. He had never, in all the time he had known you while you were undead, seen you be so honest. So vulnerable. You spoke from the heart, the way you had always used to.

Her love. Your love. He replayed those words over and over. Unable to hate or cast out any affection anymore. It was you.

You usually hid behind your guilt. Thick insulation, stopping you from moving forwards. Kept you constantly recounting past sins. It held your tongue, bound your actions to those that Angel helped construct. Acting only in a way that would allow for you to atone. No happiness, no light.

But now you were bearing yourself to him. Daring to be vulnerable - to hope that he felt it too. Despite it all. Despite who he had been to you in recent memory. The hatred, the dislike felt more distant a memory than the love your shared now.

“Cognate souls sing in early morning. My heart, begotten” The words spilled from his mouth, tears running down his cheeks now.

“There lies she, a woman. The type one may tie a knot in” You whispered, almost choking on the words and how happy they had made you. How he had asked you to be his. To marry.

You locked eyes. Both still shining. Before he closed his eyes for an extended period of time. Savouring those words. That moment.

You were holding back more tears. These feelings long since hidden, but never lost. Your dead hearts began to flutter.

You leaned in and his lips caught yours. Lips moving slowly to begin with but even the slightest movement of your lips spurred him to kiss deeper. You responded desperately, hands reaching for him.

Needing this. Needing him. You wished to make up for being so late. In this kiss.

You could taste salt and… him. The way he tasted hadn’t changed. His lips were almost warm against yours. His tongue entering your mouth hot and urgent. You kissed as if the threat of being torn from the other was imminent.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping the material of his shirt. Wishing you could take it from him right here. Press your naked skin against his. His hand slid up the curve of your neck. The other grasping at the strands of your hair.

You fumbled, pulling each other desperately closer. Bar stools fallen in your wake. You were lost in the kiss, both of you were. Moving on instinct, lips hungry and desperate to recreate the feelings you had all that time ago.

You somehow had entered his crypt. His bed was covered, completely littered with papers. Scrawled with such feeling. Some aged, that had been guiltily kept and some on fresh lined paper. He shoved them from the bed haphazardly. You missed his slight embarrassment as you attached your lips to his neck instead. Tugging on his waistband, desperate and pleading.

You needed this. You had ached for his touch for too long. This was so much more real than the dream. So badly you wanted him. Quick and now.

Your lips pressed against any skin hungrily and you were working desperately to remove all of his clothes as fast as you could.

But he stilled your hands.

Guiding your head back so you would face him. Your pupils dilated and dazed already by your desire for him. For this act that had been held in reverence. The meeting of your bodies in the way you had been told to save for your true love in your youth.

That time had passed but there was something about it being him. About it being you. You had always wanted to feel his naked flesh against your own.

“Wait, Sweet- let me?” he mumbled against your lips, kissing softly now. Like he used to. You almost wept. His mouth grazed yours, not as cautious as he once was. He had learned since, but the way his lips caressed yours. The feeling, that heart, it was still there. His lips insisted that he was still promised to you.

He wanted nothing more than to take you, rough with desire and throbbing with passion. But there was something he had to do. Something William would never forgive him for if he didn’t take this opportunity. Something he would never forgive himself for.

You nod, you were his. You always had been. You couldn’t turn back now despite him allowing you to think on it for that brief moment.

He took you, laid you back on his bed. His guiding grip strong but surprisingly tender. His hands ran down your body in a silent adoration.

He took his time to remove items of your clothing that were left. The fabric felt binding until his hand rested there. With his touch, a sigh of relief. You both felt yourselves releasing a long-held breath. One you had held inside for centuries.

Your eyes shone. It was emotional for the both of you. To have so much right here in front of them. To have everything you had truly ever dreamed.

In this moment, you felt his love in every stroke. Every murmur, every gentle encouragement. Movement. He enjoyed the way you touched his body with such reverence. Adored every sigh of pleasure.

He was firm in his love, in his touch. Your hands sliding up his back, weaving and clasping at his short, bleached hair. You moved so easily with him. Your bodies in perfect harmony. As if they were truly made for each other.

He kissed every part of you. His lips discovering places he had only ever dared dream about before. Sometimes he pressed his lips a little teasingly but others because he wanted to worship your form. He couldn’t rush this. His lips skimming every curve of your body. William was already writing sonnets in his mind. Pressing them into your skin.

He had wanted to do this since the day he had discovered what love making was. To meet your flesh with his. To consummate his adoration. To prove his devotion to your body, not just the mind he already adored. He had wanted to have you this way. To show you how true this feeling was.

His rhythm peaked and slowed. His touch sensual and yet wholly sensitive to you. Kisses littering your skin. He couldn’t believe you were here. That you were in his bed. He had longed, ached. Imagined exploring the beauty encapsulated in your form. His mind was intoxicated with you. Your touch, even your scent.

His eyes never leaving yours. Your eyes shone, threatening to spill again. You caught his lips when he kissed a trail along your collarbone towards your lips. You whispered such loving assurances against his pale skin. Into his ear as he ran a hand along your thigh. You cradled his body to you, wrapping yourself around him. Ensuring he was ever closer.

You hoped that he knew you were right there with him. That you were his, like you had been all those years ago.

You laced your fingers with his. Locking like your eyes. Every part of you had to be connected. You craved each other and it was only satisfied when you were together completely. In mind and body.

No mere dream.

He woke up the next evening, expecting you to be gone. He screwed his eyes up, not willing himself to look less the desperate pang of disappointment swallow him whole.

But when he dared to open his eyes you were there. On your side facing away from him. Sleeping. You had never slept so well, not since you had got your soul back.

You looked so peaceful when you slept. Much more so than when you were awake. He rolled over to press himself against your body. His hand tracing the curvature of your body. He had been deprived of your touch for so long.

He didn’t want this moment to end. This is what he had been missing all these years. It was you. It had only ever been you.

He cautiously ran a hand along your bare skin and enjoyed as you sighed softly through sleep. Your shoulders were exposed and he pressed his lips to your skin. Slow, gentle kisses. Pressed with such meaning. It was as soft as he remembered, despite the years. The fights.

He closed his eyes at the contact, hearing your contentment. You moved back slowly, needy for his body to further embrace yours.

This was all he had ever dreamed of. All he had written about. This was a century in the making.

Your eyes began to open, in your sleepy state you turned to him. You smiled.

William.

The smile lit up the room, better than the sun he remembered whenever you were around. You leaned in, settling a sleepy kiss against his lips.

Written poetry was scattered around the bed you shared for the day. Surrounding you both. Spike’s passion rekindled as yours was. For love and for poetry.

It was in that state between sleep and wake where reality hadn’t quite caught up. Your guilt hadn’t hit you. Your duty, anxieties. None of it was more important than the scene before you.

Everything just felt right. All you knew was this early evening adoration. You felt comfortable. Safe.

The world had stopped on its axis in this moment. The first shoots of love re-growing from your hearts.

#Spike #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x you #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #buffyverse #Spike fic #female reader #female #vampire reader #vampire

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

Text

Love, Hate, Love: Part two

Part One // Part Three

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Spike and the reader really dislike each other until she recalls his human "identity". They were best friends as kids and wrote poetry together and upon remembering this their perception of each other begins to shift. This is part two of three.

Originally requested by: @therapieliteratur

A/N: Head’s up: The timeframe is switched up a bit, Angel left earlier and Spike stayed in Sunnydale since like Lover’s walk or something. It’s vaguely set in season 3 but with very little season 3 written about.

You smiled, skipping through the tall grass. Your best Sunday dress was starched rigid. Binding. But you had not wished to change, anticipation getting the better of you.

You were going to meet him again. It was a youthful love, you had only been a teenager. It was three, maybe four years before your death. Aged twenty.

The summer was uncharacteristically warm. Your eyes viewed this dream in sepia.

There he was. Your love. He averted his gaze as soon as you approached. He did this every time. He was shy, with a poet’s heart. You had always been the more confident one. He had caught your eye, he had been in awe of you growing up. Watching you from afar.

Ever since he could remember, his eyes had only been for you.

You had started to meet this way. Stolen moments. You sat under that large oak tree, on the hill. You could see for miles from up there, but your entire world was right there beside you both.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to meet him this way, you knew it. People would talk. But your hearts had sung when you were together. You sneaked glances at each other, your faces bathing in sunlight.

God, you missed the sunlight. Those youthful eyes transfixed on your own. Sparkling in the hazy afternoon sunlight.

You both wrote poetry, that had been how your minds connected. With your hearts following. You were well-educated for the time and he adored that your wit matched his own. That he had someone that could appreciate beauty and every other emotion you could find in nature. In life. Even in death.

You hid the last one close to your chests. It was macabre and others may have laughed. Others did laugh. When you spoke of life and love and death.

You had been viewed as outcasts but nothing mattered when you were together. When you had affirmations of his blossoming love.

Oh, you wrote such poetry. Together you could change the direction that the Earth would turn. Your love, your sweet and undying affections could stop the world on its very axis. You often read aloud. Your own work and others. You gushed over the others beautiful prose.

But this day, this one was special.

He had asked you to marry him that day. Through his carefully thought-out poem. You were both young, but there was no question in your mind. You had known him since you were a child. Your love growing from childlike friendship to subtle affection, before weaving into this unquestionable love. The foundations of your adoration so solid. There was no doubt in your mind.

This thought stuck with you, in your dream. You remember it now. This was a memory, no mere dream.

His love had made you weep like a baby. You could feel the salty tears welling, threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your hand grasped his, so tight.

Yes.

This was his turn for tears to well.

You were just smiling at each other now. You leaned in, initiating this. He had been anxiously awaiting this moment. Had written of it over feverishly. And you felt this now, where you hadn’t in reality. You felt his emotions, knowing they were pure. A pure love.

Your lips met, in a sweet kiss. It was simple and quick, but it was new to you both. Your lips barely grazed his and you found yourself instantly wanting more.

But, you pulled back to look at him. I mean, really looked at him.

Your decades rushed back to you. The wisdom of your age, all you had seen. Growing out of your naivety and the promise of this sweet matrimony. The wedding that never was.

You suddenly recognised him. You knew who was looking back. And you noticed he was doing the same thing. Scanning your face, trying to recall more of this forgotten youthful romance. This innocent love you had shared.

Something shifted as the penny dropped. The recognition. A storm started around you, one that had never occurred on that day. It had been a happy day, you hadn’t known what was to come.

You both started to be pulled in opposite directions.

You tried to cling to him, your hands grasping for him and he reached out. Trying to take your hand. You screamed, being pulled out of the dream backwards.

You recognised that look in his eye. Those crystal blue eyes that had seen you with such favour in your youth. Was the man, no, vampire you now detested.

And you knew it was him. Really him. He was dreaming the same thing. You didn’t know how, but you did.

You woke up with a start. You sat up instantly in bed, breathing heavily despite there being no need. You ran your hand through your hair in disbelief.

Oh no. Oh, God, no.

Don’t let it be him.

It stung. That your only true love could be the root of your current hate. This man, this infuriating man who stood for everything you now fought against.

Oh, you hated him so. For making you feel this way. All these contradictions weaved into the crumbs of affection that were starting to surround you. Leading you to a path you hadn’t travelled since. It was overgrown now, your heart protected by thorned bushes. By barbed wire and electric fencing.

You had let nobody in the same since. Had hidden yourself away, made yourself more reserved. Especially since regaining your soul.

Dreams are funny things. Sometimes abstract. Often a reflection of your subconscious. And apparently, today, they were shared memories of a lifetime ago. You hadn’t even thought about until it all came rushing to the surface that day.

Neither of you knew why now. Why had your minds hidden such glorious moments of your youth?

Of course, you both knew the answer. It was too painful. To remember what happened. The love. The loss.

At the same moment as you, he woke up with a start. His hand still outstretched for you as if he could have pulled you back out of that dream with him. Back into his bed, the way he had dreamed of having you all those years ago.

Oh no. Oh, God, no.

Don’t let it be her.

“Anybody but bloody her” He muttered, pulling the covers from his body in disdain and stalking towards his mini-fridge to get out some blood.

He hated thinking about who he had once been. William. He could barely remember much of that life anymore. He had consciously ignored that part of himself. But now it was all he could think of.

You. Oh God, how he had adored you. He couldn’t recall even now feeling as elated as he had when you had agreed. That summer’s afternoon. Sneaking around after and finding places to kiss you. To hold you.

Stupid, lovesick idiot. That was all he had even thought to do at the time.

His mind swam with such contradictory thoughts. Of course he had tried to reach for you, yesterday. To comfort you. Because you were her. God, he hated you for that.

You both spent that night walking directionless through your own memories. Ones that only now had been unlocked again. It was painful, bittersweet.

The gnawing realisation that your hearts were tugging you closer towards the other was ignored. Pushed away.

You couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not again.

You were sat in the demon bar. You had steered well clear for a few weeks but there really was nothing like drowning guilt, sorrow and now a fixation on a vampire you had thought you hated like drinking alcohol beside demons that loathed you as much as you loathed yourself.

And, of course, just as you ordered your drink he arrived.

You caught each other’s eye briefly. Both snapping your gaze away immediately once the other met your eye. He didn’t make a beeline towards you straight away like he usually would. You didn’t keep an eye on him to make sure he wasn’t doing anything stupid this time. You wouldn’t dare let him see you looking.

It had been every day since last you saw each other. The same, or similar dreams. Of your youth. Your love. It was hard to face someone after that.

After a long while of arguing with his own mind, he moved to look at you. His silent strength (that you had loved about him) now showing. He would have to study your face, he couldn’t not. He had to check that it was you.

He sighed, taking a massive gulp from his drink. You were so different. Not in appearance but in character. You looked almost broken now. Melancholia pumped through your heart rather than blood. He could tell, his heart almost ached, knowing you were wracked by guilt or whatever it was that happened when vampires gained souls.

You looked up, glaring at him before dropping your look to your drink despite it never doing anything to you. He couldn’t not say anything. What had once been a quiet courage was now a bolder one.

“Oh, look it’s the Slayer’s pet. She loosened the leash tonight, did she? Let you walk around all by yourself?” He prodded. But his heart wasn’t in it, you could hear his usual amusement was failing him tonight. You stayed silent hoping he would just go. For very different reasons than from your last interaction.

You had been exhausted last time, indifferent.

Now it was because it was starting to mean too much. Hurt too much to look at him.

“Pet?” He asked, knowing you didn’t like it. Usually made you talk to him when he called you that. You just continued to stare into your drink, but words started to form in your mouth. A way you wouldn’t speak anymore.

“My heart is leaden, to my grave the thoughts do beckon.” You recited the line from memory. A memory you hadn’t been aware of until recently. You didn’t look up from your drink, you were aching. Guilt and sorrow and him.

His eyes widened, he knew those words. It was you. It had only ever been you.

He couldn’t stop the words that left his mouth, the desperate grasping at the past, “Y-you saw it too, didn’t you?” He pressed. His voice wavered and his jaw tensed at his own nature. His eyes willed you to agree, willed you to show him that you hadn’t changed beyond repair. Hadn’t hardened the way he never thought you could.

“I don’t know what you mean” You said shortly, getting up and downing your drink before moving to walk away.

He swung you around to face him. Your fist clenched expecting a fight. But there was no more fight. You just stared at each other, feeling the proximity more intimately than you ever had before.

Your faces started to soften and you felt it. Because his touch was now reminding you of how he had held you. Stolen kisses and silent confessions of affection. Handwritten love notes and poetry that would make you fall deeper in love. Sunkissed faces and those freckles he used to get when the summer was particularly warm.

Oh God you just wanted to lean in and kiss him and now he was feeling exactly the same. Your minds fought against the embrace.

He dropped your arm as if it was white-hot. Scolding him. As if he couldn’t bear it.

It hurt you both. Stung. His action. You were both in your own heads though. Your minds in turmoil, a tsunami of your own making.

You hated that it was the other. You hated that your hearts had started to hope. You hated that a part of you would easily trade in everything to be back in your dreams. Or to really be back there. Together.

How could it be him? How could that beautiful man, with that beautiful heart, be him. The killer of slayers. The evil, big bad that tried to kill the only people that had been kind to you since you moved here.

How could it be her? How could that once confident, glowing woman be you. The miserable, brooding souled vampire. The one that shone with arrogant self-righteousness. Tried to be good.

Without a word you just walked away from each other. No fight. No subtle jabs at the others opposing nature.

Words failed you now, but your minds spun. Such discordant unending lines of jarring poetry. Cut and spliced together. Love and hate and hope and dread.

It was all-consuming.

Because neither of you were so sure that you were these opposites. Not anymore.

The next day you were sat in the Sunnydale school library. It was a lot different from the education you remember. For the better, you decided.

You were supposed to be lending your expertise, what with the age and knowledge of the demon you were facing this week. But you weren’t really contributing.

You could get quiet sometimes and Angel had warned them not to press you too much about it, understanding why. But you weren’t usually like this. You didn’t brood like Angel did, but you were very obviously troubled by your past.

The group had taken you in, they were fond of you. You had lived through most of their troubles already so you gave them advice when you could. Even with Giles, you offered assistance that he took gratefully. You were the one vampire with a soul he could actually rely on after what happened with Angelus last year.

You were staring at a book as if it were written in gibberish. You were like a statue, you weren’t breathing or blinking.

“What’s up with spooky the soul-haver?” Xander whispered, as if you couldn’t hear it. The boy thought you would have a romance like Buffy and Angel’s. You told him otherwise. He was working on accepting it. Still.

“She’s been having dreams” Willow shrugged, it was all she could get out of you. Buffy looked up, slightly worried. She knew Angel had struggled with visions and bad dreams.

“Spooky can totally hear the human gremlins when they speak words” You muttered and Xander went red, and the others’ eyes scattered away from you which made you half-smile. You began to explain a quick excuse but you were quickly cut off.

“Don’t wig, it’s so far beyond nothing-”

“Slayer!” A familiar voice shouted, “Slayer, come out and face me!”

He had become tired of hiding in the shadows. Since Dru left. He wanted to beat the Slayer. Do something to take his mind off you. He slammed his hand on the walls as he stalked along looking for her.

Everyone shared a look and Buffy took the nearest weapon to her, a sword, and sped off through the corridors to find him before he ran into a teacher who had stayed behind to catch up on their lesson plans.

Both fought, hard. Trading blows with Buffy nicking his skin with the sword. You uncharacteristically stayed to the side.

It was equally matched until Buffy held his shoulder, he had cast an eye towards you. She took the chance and slid the hilt deep into his torso. He groaned in pain. You felt it as if she had struck you herself. You clutched your own body, where the wound was on his.

She didn’t stake him, as if he weren’t worth it. Merely warning him to give up. Buffy turned, satisfied and the others began walking away. Leaving him wounded, his knees buckled and he was on the floor.

All you could think was that he was hurt.

“William!” You shouted without thinking. It was him, no matter what had happened since. It was him.

Your mask had slipped. He saw those kind eyes. You used to look after him, the one that would try to fight any of the bullies of your youth. He had held you back more than once, fearing you would get a reputation. For being improper. And he, for being laughable. Emasculated.

“Didn’t think you cared, sweet” He said, his tone still hard. So different from the lyrical assurances he would whisper in your ear. But the moniker gave him away. Sweet.

He had always called you that. His sweet.

“I-I don’t…” You lied. This was the first time you understood properly that those feelings hadn’t been lost in your youth. They had been hidden. Repressed. Because it was so painful. There had always been something missing, only now you realised.

Losing his favour had been more painful than your own death.

William was waiting at the chapel, the entire day was thick with humidity. The skies grey and threatening to spill.

You had chosen an intimate service. Something that was yours. Just you and those that would witness the union. You would leave your hometown and make a life together. Away from the hard eyes and cruel tongues.

“Oh, I am the very spirit of vexation! Where is my wife to be?” William paced, the sun was starting to set. Darkness settling in.

“She will be timely, do not fret” the vicar spoke with assurance but he was concerned.

Time spun. It slowed and started to stop, dying as his hope did. You never came. He waited into the evening but you never arrived.

He wept, his heart broken and leaking. Salt water rubbing into the wound. Unimaginable pain. He ran. Sobs echoing around the empty chapel.

#Spike x reader #Spike btvs #Spike #Spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #female reader #female #x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

Text

Love, Hate, Love: Part one

Part Two // Part Three

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Not a Cordy request, but i dont want to forget it 😅 How about Spike and the vampire reader really disliking each other until she finds out his human "identity". And they remember they were best friends as kids and wrote poetry together and stuff and they fall back in love? That would be amaaazing😋

Requested by: @therapieliteratur

Warning: Violence between reader and Spike. Swearing. Tiny blood mention.

A/N: I got carried away and had to split this into parts, hope you don’t mind. This is part one of three 💜

You had lived for over a hundred years. That does things, memory-wise. You were forgetful over little details, especially so of your human past. Faces blurred and voices distorted. Scratched lines of poetry lost to the sands of time. It was so long ago, your memories of that part of you were in black and white.

You were a modern woman now. You weren’t hung up on the social codes of your time. You embraced every new decade. Every style and you got a kick out of learning the slang of the moment. It was cute, you collected these phrases as if they were necklaces. Or buttons. Stamps, even.

There was never much room for amassing material items however. You found yourself moving from one place to another. Often without thought or warning, people after a certain amount of time figured out that you weren’t aging. Or that you had been to the butchers too often. You had spent a lot of time in Europe and there was still thick superstition in many places.

Leaving you being run out of different towns all over the continent. It wasn’t so much pitchforks and the like anymore. You would be hassled on the street. Word of mouth would spread and suddenly the home you had made for yourself would be up in flames again.

You had moved to Sunnydale within the last decade. A new climate, new faces. New humans to try to live alongside. You ate animal blood, you had retained a soul some years back. It had been painful and incredibly hard. You had barely got through it with your mental health intact. The guilt would always be there, but you strived to be and do better.

Which was not something you could say for one vampire you had met since you arrived. Spike. He had more cheekbones than brains and he prided himself on being bad. The opposite of how you lived your un-life.

He lived, now alone, in an underground crypt after Drusilla left him. You had actually been quite fond of Dru in a strange way. You felt a little sorry for her which she screamed at you for feeling as soon as she realised. The stars told her, or something.

Angel, an acquaintance of yours, had explained all about what it had been like with Spike and the rest in the past. He was a piece of work, by all accounts. Angel left to LA and asked you to come, he had become hung up on the Slayer and couldn’t bear to live on the Hellmouth anymore.

You declined, knowing you were meant to stay for now at least. You made a home here. Something permanent for once. It was certainly harder with Angel gone. He understood how you felt about the past, about the guilt. He helped you through it the best he could too.

But you could manage on your own. You had to. You got on well enough with the Slayer anyway. She was sweet and very good at fighting so even if you had a problem you probably wouldn’t air it.

You were sat at drinking in your local demon bar when he walked in. You scowled, burning holes into him as you watched him coming towards you from where you sat on the side of the bar.

You had wanted a break. You had almost been staked. Again. Vampires hated you for protecting the slayer and you were only allowed in here because the bartender found you attractive.

Spike saw you and smirked, ordering his drink and slinking over to you. He did this a lot, he thought you were both playing some game. He hated you as much as he found you attractive. Not that you were entirely aware of this.

“Well, well, look at who’s embracin’ her roots” he gestured around the room.

“Look who’s embracing the stake about to go in his chest” You warned, glancing at him only briefly as you spoke.

“Now, pet. Wouldn’t want to get yourself run out of town again would you? I got friends here y’know… you don’t” He warned, glad of the distinct lack of Angel about the place again, “Only one of us that’s gonna be missed”

“Stop calling me pet” You reminded him as you always had to, “Why don’t you turn around and let me rest in peace” You remarked. His eyes danced at those words, ones he had thought himself before. But he still retaliated in his usual way.

“’Cause, if I remember rightly you were the one making my affairs your business” He pointed at you, still standing over you rather than sitting, “Tellin’ the girlie my little plan”

“It was barely a plan” You spat. He was going to take poor Willow hostage. Again.

“It was a good plan. Smart plan… that you buggered up by running to slutty the vampire slayer”

“Don’t pick on the kid” you snapped, taking a sip of your drink and trying to tune his voice out.

“Oo, someone’s got a crush” He taunted trying to wind you up, “What is it about that bird, got every soul’s knickers in a twist”

“Spike, please. Just for tonight… Fuck off” You muttered, clutching your head. You were starting to get a headache. You missed the look he gave you, the hand that hovered over your shoulder for a fraction of a second before he snatched it away. Why the hell would he do that? He frowned at himself.

“Fine, I will. Gonna get me a pretty woman… none around here though” He said pointedly and you just waved you hand, uncaring, and didn’t look up from your drink. He didn’t like this, so he continued, “Yeah, I’ll shag her… drain her” He shrugged, taking the shot of blood he had ordered as it arrived. He smirked and starting to stalk off. You sighed exaggeratedly.

“Can’t let you do that, Spike” You got up from your bar stool and grabbed his shoulder to pull him back.

“’Let’” He scoffed, shrugging you off.

Spike instantly threw a punch that you caught. You twisted his arm and started to pull him towards the exit. You shot the bartender an apologetic look as you left.

When you got outside you hauled him away from you as he smirked at your face.

“If you wanted to get me all to yourself, love, all you needed to do was-” He started top purr, but became silenced by your fist against his jaw. He scowled, tensing his jaw before he smirked again, “Oh, you like it rough don’t you? Come on then, let’s see who comes out on top”

He beckoned you towards him. You saw him jumping on the spot, warming up as he did. Enjoying himself. It was a dance to him. You his reluctant partner.

But, you ran at him anyway. Like you always did. You fought equally to begin. Until he started to fight dirty. He used every trick in the book and you were starting to slow with the pain. You had a headache already and this was making it worse.

He hit you successively, sharp pains in the jaw that you could barely block as he caught you off guard. You groaned in pain, which made him cocky. He started to restrain you by your wrists, his smile wide and shark-like as you hit the brick wall behind you. Your brain rattling around your skull.

Your skull. You propelled your head towards him, hitting the soft part of his nose with your now vamped forehead. He dropped your wrists to clutch his nose and you took the chance to kick against his torso, hard. He fell back against the hard pavement. You were instantly on him.

You straddled him, pushing him back from trying to get up. You just stared at each other for a moment. In that second, had anyone looked it could have gone either way. You could have lowered yourself to him, caught his lips. Embraced him with a passion that only you (and probably any nesting birds watching from above) would know.

But you didn’t.

You were angry at him. For being who you used to be. For being someone you could understand. For being horrible. You punched him hard on the jaw instead in your frustration.

It distracted him enough for you to grab the stake out of your waistband and dig it into his chest. You gave him a look, one suggesting you were serious.

You thought for a moment, sighing at the way your guilt worked now.

“Go home. Cuddle up to your loneliness” You ordered, removing the stake from his chest as he wiped his bloody nose. Deciding (seeing as he was only in dead company) to lick his own nose-blood from his fingers, “You’re so disgusting” You said hitching your nose up and getting to your feet. It was an act - it didn’t phase you. You had seen worse. But you still despised him for not having the guilt that you had so deeply rooted in your chest.

“Oh, like ‘totally’” He mocked the way you spoke. The way you assimilated. It angered him. Vampires weren’t supposed to be good. Have souls. Weren’t supposed to help slayers.

You walked your separate ways. Two sides of a coin. You could be each other, you had been each other. His ego was bruised and you had to ice your jaw. You cursed and blinded and hated him.

When Spike returned to the crypt, he felt the loneliness much more acutely. He was getting madder and madder. It wasn’t just because he had been beaten by a girl either. He had looked at you in a way he never thought he would. There had been something there tonight, behind the mists of your eyes. Something he recognised.

And he hated you for it. He swore he did. It angered him so much he was shaking.

“Bloody twat, thinkin’ she’s better than everyone just ‘cause she fought for a soul. Any bugger with half a brain and workin’ fists could go through that crap” he shouted, kicking at the gate in his crypt.

When you went home to your sweet little house, you were in the same predicament. You slammed the door closed, leaving the entire house shaking.

He had gotten under your skin. Again. Walking around as if the life you as vampires had now was better than what had been. As if killing and fucking and fighting was all that was required for perfect happiness.

You hated him. His attitude. His guiltlessness. But most of all, you hated that you could see through it. The mask. And you hated that you understood him. Could be him had you not fought for you soul to come back.

Because what had it gained you? Except self-hatred and a talent for identifying different flavours of animal blood by sight alone?

Of course, you wanted to help Buffy. The others. Save the world. But some days you envied him. The way you presumed that he could just stalk through the night and not have deep thoughts about the ending of life or anything else.

You punched the wall. Hard. Screaming in frustration, shivering with the guilt. Quivering with anger. Mixed emotions.

You both were in your own heads, emotions and thoughts flashing violently behind your eyes. Not even slowing when the light came and you had to try to contend with sleep.

That was the night that they started though. The dreams.

#Spike btvs #Spike #Spike x reader #Spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #female reader #female #vampire #vampire reader #Spike fic

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