#this fic got me out of my burnt-out phase fr

[kaizsche]

spuffy mamma mia au!

i was a bit apprehensive over posting snippets of my spuffy wips but fuck it LMAO -- so here's a teaser of my current obsession: writing a spuffy mamma mia au!

(nothing's set in stone for this one just yet, so things might change down the road)

special thanks to @qvnthesia for bearing with me when i virtually screamed to this fic to her and just being there when i lost my shit over spike like 24/7 LMAO. love you paps <3

“You always knew how to make an entrance,” mused Spike in his signature sexy leer, tongue curled behind his teeth.

It had, as horrifying as it sounds, made something dead inside her come to life. Scrambling to stand up, Buffy dismissed Angel’s offer to help her. I can do it myself, thank you very much! She snarked internally, huffing when strands of her hair seemed to conspire against her, falling in front of her eyes totally making her even more disheveled which is sooo not of the good. She’s before three of her exes for crying out loud!

Still feeling dizzy from her sudden fall from the rooftop, she stumbled and tried to catch her balance by leaning against the wall, fixing three of her nightmares with an intense glare that rivaled the heat of the sun.

“What are you doing here?”

The three men simultaneously shared a long look. Riley turned to respond to her curtly, but with an undertone of glee, “You told us to be here.”

And then Angel’s sharp accusation, “You didn’t tell me we had a kid.” As if it mattered to him, that if he knew she was pregnant with his child would make a difference. That he’d be willing to give up a life of wealth and prestige for a child.

Spike, surprisingly had chosen to be silent and settled to watch her with his knowing clear blue eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets and answers to the universe. Buffy didn’t know if she preferred quiet Spike or angry Spike. He’d always known how to read her—it comes with the territory, she supposed, as someone who knew who she really was before Iowa, before Ireland, before Greece.

“I so did not!” Buffy huffed angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. “You think I’d invite you—” She each gave the three men varying levels of looks she hoped conveyed both disgust and fury. “—here, in my home?”

“If not you then who would—”

The answer came barreling through the door, followed by a whimpering Andrew with tear tracks staining his swollen left cheek. “Hello, mom! I see you’ve met my guests.”