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#btvs imagine
evieelyzabethh · 8 months
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Sugar and Spike
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pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader
summary: after a night of patrol goes wrong, Spike starts noticing some changes in himself, mainly that Buffy's sweetest friend won't leave his mind and that she would never look at him the same if she knew what he wanted to do to her.
warnings: smut!!! a smidge of yandereness, kinda a sex or die fic, possessive spike, handjob, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), praise kink, biting/marking (mentions of blood), a little bit of spanking, overstimulation, riding, fingering, veryyy little plot, and I think thats about it.
In hindsight, they should've kept a better eye on him. It was an odd night of patrolling, the usual gaggle of vampires being a demon or two this time around. Big tall thing that appeared out of nowhere and left as soon as it came. Spike, always with little regard for the consequences of his actions, ran right in. Ran so hard he went right through the demon as it went into smoke. He breathed it in before going into a coughing fit, as if he could feel it in his nose and lungs, spreading in his chest like a vine that pulled everything impossible tight before releasing him like he was never in its grasp . Red flag one.
It fell on him like rain, some clumping into what looked like pink sparkles in his hair, on his jacket, his worn boots. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away expecting to see it gunked together, but there was nothing there. It felt like his hair had been hit by my mist, slightly damp and cool. It seeped into his exposed skin, adhering itself into a pink sheen which also disappeared after only a few minutes. He remembered trying to brush it off, expecting it to feel wet but it was just slick. It was admittedly infuriating, especially since the feeling wouldn't go away. Red flag two.
“Buffy!” He shouted, rubbing his hands on his jeans as if it was going to wipe away the phantom feeling, but his complaints were met with apathy. 
“There’s nothing there, Spike.” A groan bubbled in his chest. 
“Astute observation, Slayer, but it feels like something’s there.” You were there beside him, something that would’ve gone unnoticed had he not been hit with your scent as your fingers brushed against his hand. He pulled away quickly out of instinct, not as subtle as he would’ve liked to because you noticed and scampered off in between Buffy and Giles. The distance between you and him got larger and the two of you talked about a mall trip you had planned and Willow was the only one to stick with him. She humored him, allowing him to shower at her place and taking a sample of skin only to find nothing. No residue, nothing abnormal, nothing had changed at all. Red flag three.
But he was sure it was fine. Nothing had really changed. You had been a bit cautious though.
You were prone to worrying, and he couldn't blame you. There was a lot to worry about when your best friends hunted demons and one of them was a literal creature of the night. You worried about Buffy so much he genuinely feared you would collapse from all the stress you put yourself under. Pursuing a nursing degree so they could avoid hospital visits unless absolutely necessary because none of you had the money. Having him train you in basic self-defense because you hated feeling like dead weight. You took up Latin and all of the other dead languages in those old dusty books just so you could be useful. You tied yourself in knots just to be sweet. God, you were so sweet. Even to your own detriment, like pure sugar that was going to rot his teeth eventually.
The more time you spent together, the more the rot seemed to take his brain than his teeth. His mouth never got anywhere near you; Buffy made sure of that. He wished he could say it was because she was babying you too much, that you were also tired of Buffy making Spike seem like the biggest mistake you could ever make. To be fair, he hardly knew you. He knew of you; he knew of the pink wardrobe and the fluffy socks and the pretty shoes. He knew of you as Buffy's cute neighbor who stopped by so often that you might as well live with them. You weren't being a baby, you were being cautious, even more now. He almost wished you didn't believe him as much as you did, maybe you'd keep visiting him. He hadn't seen you in days and it was really starting to take a toll on him. His leg bounced and he got in the bad habit of biting his nails, which was starting to get annoying with how often he had to repaint them.
If you were here, you would repaint them. You would sit your pretty self on his busted couch, and you'd have a little bag with you with all your pins and charms that jingled like the earrings that dangle from your ears. In your bag would be at least three shades of pink, a range of blacks and greys, and a wild card or two, maybe a blue or a green. You'd let him pick his color, despite knowing he always went for black. You asked anyway, just in case he decided to go with pink just to humor you. Had you walked through right now, he would've obliged. He would've done anything you asked him too. It wasn't even that he was lonely, but it was getting to suffocate in here. It was getting hot, like a fire was spreading. Each breath felt smoke filled, his skin was on fire, his skin was getting damp, like the dust had fallen again. His hand was shaky as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, surely the smell would break him out of what had to be a daze.
If you were here, you'd make a joke about him needing to air the place out. He'd probably open the door and call that enough air, but he liked his privacy, and he didn't like the idea of anyone just being able to waltz right in. You would want to make a joke about no one wanting to visit him, but you’d bite your tongue at the fear of being too harsh. You always got that look in your eye when you thought something that could be misconstrued as mean. You took your lip into your teeth and your pretty eyelashes flitted and you looked away. He thought about what it would be like to bite your lips, wanting to see what they looked like, all red and even prettier than they were before. Just a taste, that's all he wanted, a taste.
He got up to open up the door only for that phantom feeling to return. All over his body, it felt like he had stepped out into the sun, like every molecule that made up his body was vibrating and mere seconds from combusting. His breathing got ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his brain going into overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would make it go away, but even from behind his eyelids, you were there. The idea of you, your smile, your laughter, fuck the very way you said his name. It sounded so nice coming from you. 
The way you said it when he got injured in a fight when you would patch up his wounds and have a bag of blood for him to replace what he lost. “Spike.” you would say. Like he should’ve known better than to just throw himself into danger. Not even bothering to consider the possibility that he did it to look heroic, or maybe in your care with your hands over his chest. There’s no reason for him to be this beaten and bruised from some baby vamp; William the Bloody. Spike? He had pride, but not as much as Angelus. It was easily quenched by the fact that he was in no way losing with your delicate hands tracing over faded scars on his chest and feeding him blood while they were just dust. 
“Spike.” Buffy would say, her tone laced with less concern and more disapproval. She knew something was up. After all they had gone through together, vampires should’ve been nothing for him. He had to space out his “fuck ups” just to get her off his back, just to get her voice out of his head. She didn’t say his name like you did. 
There wasn’t much better than how you said his name when it was just the two of you. Being together in his crypt, sometimes in your own bedroom which you had invited him into much to Buffy’s chagrin. “It’s Spike,” you had said, “how many times have we saved the world with him? I think he’s earned it.” It sent shivers down his spine. He would’ve saved the world so much sooner if it meant being able to be in your space. If it meant getting to hear you say his name through fits of laughter, trying to regain your breath while still finding enough to utter his name. “Spike.” you said, your hand over his while you giggled. He felt that heat now, felt the heat of all your touches culminating right now. All over his skin, tensing his muscles, holding his chest as he fought for breath himself. 
While he had the chance, he should’ve raided your underwear drawer. Now he was left to fist his dick with just the memory of you. You wouldn’t notice a pair or two gone, surely you wouldn’t. It was the type of small thing you would overlook because really what is a pair or two. You wouldn’t want him to be in pain, hearing his situation now, you’d feel like it was all your fault. The least you could spare was a pair of your prettiest panties for him to wrap around his cock while he fisted himself to the thought of you and how you would say his name now. 
The closest he’d gotten would be after a big battle. You had taken a beating, by the time you had gotten to a safe space you had lost a dangerous amount of blood, but the sounds that came out of your mouth were so delicious. And you trusted him to carry you to safety, your bloody hand wrapping itself around his bicep to maintain some tether to consciousness. “Spike.” your voice dripping with pain, but even that wasn’t enough to mask how pretty you sounded. He felt bad then for how hard it got him, but there is such a thin line between   pain and pleasure. The only difference now would be circumstance, and he would never hurt you. This would be good for you, the both of you, you just had to let him. You just had to say his name. 
“Spike?” In that moment, he knew there had to be some high power looking out for him when he heard your voice. Dream-like, and soft, like the wind could have blown it out and away from your lips. “Spike?!” you said again. He couldn’t tell if it was his shred of restraint or his body’s unwillingness to listen to his brain that kept him glued to his couch. 
“Now really isn’t a good time, love.” He tried to keep his voice level, he really did, but it was too much. And you weren’t stupid, he heard the heels of your shoes against the hard floor and smelt you before he even saw you. And fuck you smelt heavenly. 
“Are you okay? What happened-” You looked like you had a halo above your head, or maybe he was much further gone than he had thought. You cut yourself off in shock. When you had walked in, you hadn’t expected to catch Spike with his hands down his pants. 
“You know what, I’m just gonna go a-and come back later.” You tried to smile in an attempt to make the situation less awkward than it needed to be, but he grabbed you by your wrist. 
“Wait-I just need-fuck. I just need you to stay for a bit. I don’t feel good.” Your eyes met and you saw the sheen of what you assumed to be sweat covering his chest and face. His pupils blown out, his hair out of place, his labored breathing, like he couldn’t catch his breath. Oddly enough, the sheen had a pink tinge, and despite the fact that his fangs were protruding, his vampire face hadn’t appeared. You reached out to touch his forehead to surprisingly find a temperature. He groaned at the contact, both wanting to melt into your skin and like it physically pained him. 
“What happened?” He declined the answer, instead pushing his head more into the palm of your hand, tipping his head to sniff the inside of your wrist. “What are you doing?” You tried to pull away and put some distance in between the two of you, but he pulled you back, even closer than before. 
“You smell so good.” He nosed his way past your wrist and up your arm till he made it to your collarbone, trying to find where he could hear your blood pump the loudest. “Stop it!” you pushed against him as soon as you felt the tip of his fangs attempting to break skin. To both of your surprise, he let you. It looked like it pained him to do so, his eyes screwed shut and his hand gripping the arm of his couch until the wood snapped. 
“If this is about the demon thing, I’m gonna go get Willow, okay? You just need to stay right here.” The authority you had laced in your voice was cute. 
“Just stay here with me, yeah? There’s no need to get Willow. We don’t need Willow.” His voice had dropped an octave, his pupils blown and his brain damn near empty. Anything went in one ear then out the other as he held your hands in his, staring through you as if daring you to defy him. 
“Spike, you aren’t well.” You had tried to reason, but all he heard was that you weren’t saying no because you didn’t want this. You were concerned for his well being, even when he had you pinned down and his teeth at your neck, each breath moving you closer to him drawing blood, you were saying no because you were concerned he didn’t want this. You somehow thought he didn’t want you. 
“I’ve never felt better, baby.”, he said-practically fucking growled. Hell if he wanted you, he needed you. He pressed himself into you, his hands grabbing at anything he could to ground himself, his left at the base of your scalp and his right bunching the fabric of your skirt in his hands. He breathed into your neck, nipping and nicking at bare skin then soothing it with his tongue and kisses. He worked himself up over you, taking and taking until he was drunk, his tongue lolled out as he put his head on your chest.“Can I fuck you.” 
You had been caught in a daze yourself, his words had barely registered. You had more sense than he did at this point, finding enough resolve to shake your head. “Please.” he begged, groaning it out through clenched teeth. “I need you to make it feel better, please God just make it feel better.” He had pushed his hips into your hand, his weeping cock leaking onto you, pleading with you to touch it. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear, just be my sweet girl, yeah? Just make it better.”
You experimentally rubbed the tip, and he whimpered. His hand grabbing your wrist so fast a look of shock flashed across his face. You took that as a sign to pull away but he put your hand back around him, pushing your hand up and down his base. “Too much too quick, love.” 
Any hesitancy you had was swallowed as he smashed his lips into yours. It was urgent and quick, almost bruising how hard he kissed and held you as if you were going to disappear at any point. He tugged at a handful of hair, catching you in a moan that he used to force tongue into your mouth, sucking it as you pumped his dick at a painfully slow pace. 
His kisses made you breathless, and it was then you realized that he likely forgot in his haze that you actually needed air. He moaned into your lips, the sound spreading throughout your body and shaking you to your core. It wasn’t lost on him how damp your underwear had gotten, had he had the strength to pull away to touch you he would, but the mere seconds his skin would be off yours was enough of a deterrent to keep him in place. 
You tried to move away, but his hand kept you in place. “Don’t move.”, he rushed it out, a tone that otherwise would’ve been more commanding had he not been weak himself. “Keep going.” His hips bucked and stuttered, his movements becoming erratic the more faint your touches became. Like it was a warning; let me up for air and I’ll keep touching you. He whined at the thought of you pulling away. That wasn’t fair. 
His lips parted from yours, settling for the corner of your mouth before moving to your jawline to your neck, then just under your ear. You gasped for breath, you numb with the ecstasy of air and the feeling of his rushed kisses. He was getting close. Your hand was covered in his sticky pre-cum, his cock even more so as your hand moved alone over him, his own hand now grabbing at your shirt at the feeling. You squeezed at the bass, a motion he clearly enjoyed with how his body tensed up. A series of obscenities flowed from his pretty lips as he came, spurts of his cum getting over your pretty pink skirt, an image Spike would get himself off to later. 
You didn’t get long to sit in what just happened when he was on you again, laying you on your back and ripping your skirt clean off. You moaned something that sounded like “My skirt!”, but neither one of you were really worried about it. 
His lithe fingers were quick, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties, while he kissed up to where you wanted him excruciatingly slow. His hands rubbed and teased at the soft skin of your thighs, marking bruises everywhere he went. 
He moaned into you, sniffing you once again, before finding a place he wanted to dig his fangs into. Maybe it was how delicately he stuck in his teeth, maybe it was the lust blown fervor, but it didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated. In fact, you moaned at the intrusion, unable to know what to do with yourself as he sucked and lapped up the blood he had drawn. Your fingers wove into his hair, as if he could be pulled any closer to you than he already was. “You taste so good. So good.” And he let you know as such. The obscene noises that flew from the both of you, the slurping and whines, the pop of his lips as he traveled from one spot to another. But that’s not how he intended to eat you whole.
You were unbelievably wet, soaking through your panties and even Spikes fingers before he took pity on you and decided to pull them aside and plant his fingers into you. Now, you weren’t a virgin, but you had never had sex that felt as good as this. Never had someone in you that had hundreds of years of practice beforehand. 
“You’re doing so good, Sweet Girl. So good, can’t get enough of you.” What was an attempt to calm your nerves, had you keening and over the moon, the praise bringing tears to your eyes as you ground yourself in his hand. That didn’t move him along any quicker, his tongue still collecting anything you would give him like he hadn’t been fed in years. 
“Spike!” You called out, which finally seemed to get his attention. He saw the glass-like look your eyes had taken and the pout on your face. You looked like you were about to cry. Poor thing, so desperate. He said he’d take care of you, make you feel good. No point in denying the inevitable. 
You whined when he pulled out of you just to choke when he began to devour you. His nose at your clit and his tongue plunging into. “Thank you.” he muttered into you, like this was some divine gift to him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The combination of his praise and how good he was giving it to you made that coil in your belly tighten and tighten until it threatened to snap. And he just kept going. Completely in his own world, the only thoughts in his mind being about you, how you smelled, how you tasted, god you were so good to him. Letting him eat you out like this, helping him like this. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his girl. His sweet girl. No one else's, you couldn’t be anyone else's after this. His grip tightened around your thighs at the very thought. “Mine.” he said, the vibrations hitting your core deliciously. “Mine.”
“Yours Spike, all yours.” He hummed in approval, inserting two fingers back into you while he kept up his electric pace. He held your hand as it began to be too much, your back arching off the couch and your thighs closing around his head as he just kept going. You called his name as you came, high and higher until it became too heavy on your mouth and you couldn’t say anything at all. The grip you had on his hand had loosened, but he hadn’t let up. He still rambled into you, “Again. Again. Again. Please.”
You didn’t know if your hips were bucking into him or try to wiggle away from him. Either way, both attempts were unsuccessful. With how hard he pulled on your panties they had snapped and had been thrown to the side for the simple crime of being in his way. His forearm lay on your hip keeping you in place. Your hand still laid in his, him squeezing it as if it was any comfort from the inescapable feeling of his tongue licking your thoroughly soaked pussy. 
Your toes curled in your frilly socks as you came again on his tongue, and you foolishly expected that to be enough. You would’ve asked him to stop if you could pant out anything more than whines. You would’ve pushed him away if you could manage anything more than weak taps on his forearm. “No more.” you whispered out. “Can’t.” His fingers rubbed your hand as some form of encouragement. 
“Yes you can, love.” You shook your head weakly, scooting your hips back only for him to swiftly smack your pussy. You preened on the contact, and he drank in the arousal that gushed out just from that. “My sweet girl isn’t gonna disappoint me, is she? She’s gonna make me all better, isn’t that right?” Your brain was so fogged out you couldn’t even produce a response. You just groaned and squirmed, unable to brace for impact when he smacked you again. 
“Spike!” You cried out, but he didn’t care. Heknew you were feeling good from how much you gushed while he tongue fucked your cunt. It was just a bit too much for you right now. You would feel better, you just needed to let go some more. He tried to relax you, tried rubbing mindless shapes on your skin to calm you down as he worked you through your third orgasm, but you just heaved. Your tits bounced with how heavily you breathed, and yet after all of that, he still didn’t feel better. Why didn’t he feel better?
Despite the relief that came from him pausing his abuse, you still whined as he sat up from behind your legs. With your taste still on his tongue, he kissed you. You sighed into him, the feeling of his large hands moving from your hip to under your shirt to touch your tummy and rip your bra in half. You didn’t even notice him moving you into his lap and setting your thighs on either side of him so you straddled him. He thumbed your nipples, pinching and rubbing over them while he relished in the feeling of you cunt so close to his dick. 
You didn’t seem to catch on either as he slid in between your folds, too lost of him finally kissing you again. You moaned into this kiss as his fingers dipped to toy with your clit before he whispered in your ear. “Just one more.”
In one fluid motion, he slipped his dick into his cunt, catching you as your limbs went weak. He was so big you felt your eyes water with the pressure of him being in you. You could tell he was struggling to stay still, but the haze had worn off enough for him to regain some sense. He still waited eagerly for you to adjust, brushing the fallen tears from your eyes and kissing your checks to make it all better.
“Too big. It’s too big.” You stuttered. It was all you could manage to mutter out. He cooed at you, his dick growing harder than he thought possible at the feeling of it all and the praise. 
“I was made for you, Pretty Girl, you can take it.” You yelped as he jerked his hips into yours, but he just couldn’t help it. You were so pretty like this, all fucked out and dumb. Not a thought behind those eyes of yours and the only thoughts he was capable of was you. How warm you were, how wet you were, how tight you were. You were squeezing him and  milking him dry and as much as he tried he just couldn’t stop him self from fucking into you. 
“I’m sorry.” and he meant it. You weren’t ready and he couldn’t even tell if he was ready, his body had a mind of his own and he felt himself just slipping into the feeling of being enveloped by you. “Just too good. You’re too good. My good girl. You’re gonna take all I give you, aren’t you, love? You gonna be my sweet girl and take it?” His voice was breathy and low and impossibly hot. 
All you could manage was a soft ‘mhm’ as you took him in. It wasn’t like you had any other choice as you bounced on his cock, gripping at his chest and taking in each moan you earned as you drew blood from your scratches. 
You felt every inch of him, felt the tip of his dick hit your cervix and kept pounding at it like it was his job;  like he would die if he didn’t. You can’t do anything but take it as you screw your eyes shut and just try to breathe as everything in your body fights to hold on to some feeling. It was impossible to think, not when Spike’s hands were all over you and his touch was so incredibly hot. Even stranger, a pink glow began to emanate from him, that or you were closer to passing out than you originally thought. . 
He kept you close to his chest as you both chased your impending highs together, your lips meeting in the middle as you moaned and sighed into each other's mouths and he was a goner, rambling like a mad man in your ear, thanking you endlessly for something he couldn’t put his hands on. Maybe it was your release, that you felt coming like a truck. He squeezed at the fat of your hips, pulling you even closer until neither one of you could tell where the other started and ended and you came like that, so close that you were almost suffocating, but a different kind from before. 
He came not long after you, his dick still inside spurting his cum inside you and keeping it in there with little intention of coming out any time soon. That pink glow had faded from before, fading away until there was nothing there and the slight pink tinge from before was gone too. His eyes drooped a bit, his blue irises that you hadn’t realized you had missed finally reappeared, his pupils returning to normal and his fangs retracting. 
He hung his head in your neck and you felt his temperature drop a bit, no longer boiling hot. He refused to move his head from his spot though. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was ashamed of what just happened. 
After the both of you had a moment to catch your breaths, he removed himself from inside you, stalking off to find something to wear now that your outfit was completely ruined. He even had the decency to turn around while you changed, granted he had a hard time looking at you anyway. 
“You’re gonna wanna deep clean that couch.” You said to break the silence. You were surprised you got a chuckle out of him. 
“Yeah. I don’t normally do this sort of thing on there.” Another moment of silence passed between the two of you.
“You know, we can go back to my place and I can fix your nails. I can tell you’ve been biting at them.” He didn’t need to be told twice either. The place still stunk of sex and his head was feeling clearer than it had in days, he couldn’t stand to be there right now.
“About all of this…you won’t tell Buffy, right?” You giggled. 
“Not if you don’t.” And that was more than enough for him.
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prose-for-hire · 10 months
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High Stakes
Pairing: Spike x witch!reader (gn)
Request: I was wondering about maybe one where spike and reader are in a relationship like a really healthy one and he is completely in love them but the scooby gang ask them to do some really big draining spell because they are more powerful witch then willow and like reader starts to panic once leaving the magic box with spike and he is super concerned and like they start to have a panic attack and he immediately starts calming them down and looking after them and it’s just really fluffy and angsty.
Requested by: @witchb1tches
Warning: Reader has a panic attack. Crying. 
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There was a storm brewing. The sky was dark but only you could feel it. You were at one with the elements. A powerful sorcerer who had unfathomable power. As you waled briskly through the streets, your hands laced with Spike’s, you tried to push down your anxieties and focus on the feeling of his hand in yours.
You and Spike had been together for years. He adored you with ever fibre of his being and you matched his love in every way. It was a love that others only dreamed of. You had met at a demon bar one evening and in attempting to impress you, Spike had picked a fight with half of the bar. When he got in trouble and they all tried to jump him at once, you stood up raised your hand, making the entire crowd slam into the back wall of the bar as if shoved by an invisible force.
Spike had just stared, mouth wide open as you winked and left him in the bar, saying your goodbyes. Although you didn’t agree with love at first sight, the ground started humming and the breeze that whistled through your ears on the way home telling you that you had met the one. You waited though, to see if he would make the first move. To test if it really was fate.
You had run into each other several times after that and after getting over the fact that you were friends with the Slayer, he built up the courage to ask you on an actual date. He had even brought flowers that looked suspiciously like they had been swiped from a nearby grave. He had been rather bashful and it had been incredibly endearing, you only understood later on why he was so nervous of rejection.
You had been laying in bed when you got the SOS message from Xander. Some big evil this or some creepy spell that. You knew you had to come as fast as you could and your vampire insisted he was only coming to try and score a nip of blood, but you knew him better than that.
“Don’t know why they think you’re at their every bleedin’ beck and call” Spike had been sulking the entire way there, his unlit cigarette bobbing from his mouth as he spoke. He mostly did it to see you smile, he was very fond of your smile. He did this, especially when he sensed that you were feeling tense about something.
“Spike, it’s the end of the world, we can’t just hold each other and wait for it to get us”
“If it was the end of the world, we’d be doin’ more than cuddlin’. That I can tell you, pet” he pointed at you, his cigarette between his fingers as a curl of smoke escaped his smirk. You rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully as you walked.
“I have power, it would be wrong not to do something to help”
“No, what’s wrong is callin’ up a vampire in the middle of the afternoon while he’s trying to sleep! Apocalypses are ten-to-the-bloody-dozen ‘round here, we could have finished our nap and still caught the next one, I wager”
“That may be true, but-” You started to defend your younger friends and Giles, but that was when you sensed it. The coming storm had distracted you but now you saw it. The Magic Box was ablaze, green fire licked the building and what looked like a tornado inside the store fanned the flames.
You ran straight into the fire, with Spike trying to pull you back. You shot him a meaningful look, your intentions sending your thoughts and reasons into his own head. He nodded, understanding, the fire was magically suspended, something (probably Willow and Tara) was working against the damage.
When you both arrived, Spike had a hand firmly on your waist, he knew that in this sort of fight, you were the one that was doing the protecting. He was man enough to admit that. But it didn’t stop him wanting to ensure that you were by his side. Safe from harm’s way.
The scene was pure chaos, and not in a nice, neat, easy-to-calm way. You had ceased many of those for your friends before. This one was different. An invisible tornado had whipped up around the store, the noise was so loud it was near impossible to hear yourself think. Anya was trying to hold down anything valuable from getting more broken while Giles and Willow were screaming incantations over the din.
“No bloody way” Spike muttered, taking you hand and trying to lead you out again. There was no sodding, buggering, bloody way that you two were getting involved in this one. The slayer and her little friends could fry for all he cared. Just so long as it didn’t involve you.
Buffy was trying to fight the air around her, with Xander on back up, as some force kept attacking the two that were trying to reduce the amount of fire that threatened to consume them.
That was when you saw it. In the centre of the room, the eye of the tornado.
“Th-that book…” You said softly. You knew that book, you could feel the ancient power rolling off it. Humans couldn’t touch that book unless they were powerful enough to withstand it’s hold on their souls.
And seemingly, Tara had touched it. She was suspended in the corner of the room, eyes black and her hair to match. She was a good witch, but not powerful enough to withstand something like that. You weren’t even sure that you were.
How had they found it? Why was it here?
No wonder the world was ending. One chapter, no one sentence even, from that book spoken aloud by someone that didn’t know what to do with it and the whole fabric of this dimension, and many others, would tear and scatter until it was no more.
That book was supposed to be suspended in a hell dimension and, you later found out, Willow had received it as a Birthday gift from an unnamed admirer.
“Y/n, we need to do this, now!” Buffy shouted over the noise. It was a lot worse than you had expected. Time was speeding up, lives were in danger and the whole thing seemed to be resting on you. You wavered, the others couldn’t see it over all the chaos. But he could. Your Spike. Your protector. He was the only thing that could ground you.
“Piss off, would you! You saw what happened to them last time” Spike stepped up to the Slayer menacingly, his leather duster whipping around him in the artificial wind. He cared about you, deeply, none of your friends could deny it. He was worried about you, doing so many spells for them he thought they took it for granted that you could just bounce back and be fine. He told them as much whilst simultaneously throwing a few punches at this invisible being that was trying to fight the room.
You were stood there, seemingly daydreaming as you stood still as the mayhem raged around you, just staring at the book.
“Y/n, the stakes are high, are you, ah, able to do this?” Giles asked, pausing from chanting as he realised that you were now using your own power to hold off the fire.
“We don’t use that word in our house, stakes that is. What with the whole burning at the stake bit” Spike cut in, throwing a punch and overbalancing when it didn’t connect with anything. He managed to style it out, rolling and landing back onto his feet.
“And the dusty vampire thing” You agreed distractedly, pressing your lips against his as he got up from the floor beside you.
“Yes, yes, well? Are you able to do it?” Giles was growing impatient with the man that was always so close by your side. Both Giles and you knew what you had to do. It was something that no other could do. If you didn’t do this, Buffy would never be able to get the upper hand. You may all perish in an instant.
“I can stop time, isolating it so that Buffy can still move will, uh, take a lot… But, luckily for you I am blessed with a lot of power” You insisted, feeling their resolves falter slightly. Buffy had never faced anything like this before. The Hellmouth opening was nothing compared to complete obliteration of dimensions.
The way your power works, you would be pushing against time whilst also pulling Buffy into the present with you. Shifting more than yourself was known to be near-impossible when stopping time. You had done it once before but it had taken a lot out of you.
Spike stayed stood by your side in all of this, only fending off anything that came towards you now. You nodded at him gently, he was always in awe of you, but more so every day.
It was a lot of pressure and the responsibility was crushing. But you persevered, Spike nodding by your side, giving his unending support without even having to say a word. You took a breath, closed your eyes and raised your arms, chanting rapidly.
You did it. When you opened your eyes time had stopped, your love frozen by your side. 
Buffy nodded at you, able to move as you held the very threads of time together. It was already taking a toll on your body. It was like you were hanging over the edge of the universe, grip so tight that your knuckles whitened, grimace on your face as you tried to stop everything from tipping into nothingness.
You stopped time long enough for Buffy to decloak the invisible force, the Slayer was already weakened from the earlier fight but managed to kill the demon that had emerged from the book. It bled profusely, spraying the floor with an orange goo.
“Don’t- not on the book!” You screamed, if any demon blood got on that book literally anything could happen. But none of it good.
With one final flourish, Buffy managed to slay the demon and take its weapon, a long staff that had been invisible until now that was needed to return Tara back to them.
While you were watching her, you were hurting, aching all over, you couldn’t hold it any longer. While Buffy finished, you had a spinning wheel of dimensions in your mind and you dropped the book into nearest Hell dimension, hoping it could hold it.
You dropped to the floor as the book disappeared, the wind stopped and everything went silent. Tara was back to herself after a ceremonial wave of the staff, now propped up in a corner by Willow as everyone else skidded towards them. A battered Buffy included.
“You okay?” Spike asked it quietly, as you got to your feet, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention from the group. You nodded once but he wasn’t convinced. He knew you inside out and he took your hand tenderly as he spoke.
“Yeah, I-” You started but the look he gave you told you that he knew. He could sense it. You weren’t doing okay.
“I, uh, I just need some air” You said, grappling with yourself to get out of the magic shop, your hand no longer clasping Spike’s. He was on your heels, throwing a glare behind him at your friends as he went.
The others called their thanks to you as you left, while Xander tended to Buffy’s battle wounds. Your friends all loved you but they didn’t understand certain things about you. You were known as being a little odd, you went missing for periods of time and you frequently shied away from praise or gratitude. But they were fond of you all the same.
You were overwhelmed. Drained and scared you hadn’t done the right thing. What if that book was summoned in another dimension and you could do nothing to stop it? What if you had killed thousands of others by only saving the dimension you lived in?What if it came back and a different chapter opened, one where you couldn’t fight it?
Once outside, the storm had started. The thunder cracked through the air as your heart hammered through your chest. Your chest writhed in pain, as if several hands were scratching at you from within, trying to claw their way out of you. You couldn’t take a full breath, your breathing quickly shallowed, as if something was wringing out your lungs.
It had been creeping up on you ever since you had started the spell, but it had just crashed on top of you like a ton of bricks. You slid down the wall you had been leaning against, clutching your heart and fighting for breath. You were panicking.
“You’re okay, love, ‘m right here with you” Spike knew immediately what it was, crouching down beside you the ghost of his touch hovering over your shoulder as it erratically rose and fell.
“I- I can’t-” You stammered, lightning violently cracking through the air as you spoke.
“You’re okay, love.” he soothed, taking big unneeded breaths of his own to give you something to focus on. You tried to speak but he shook your head, you needed to focus on your breathing, “Breathe, Y/n, that’s right.”
He continued to breathe with you, your fingers numbing and your chest feeling like it was caving in. You felt like you needed to reach inside and stop it somehow but you could summon no amount of power or magic to stop it. This made it worse, you couldn’t control it. You couldn’t stop it and the storm raged on, worse this time as the thunder came from within.
“You’re safe, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anythin’ nasty get you, just take your time” He knelt before you, so that he was all that you could see.
As you slowly managed to regulate your breathing, you stayed sat in the same position as before. Rain started to fall as your tears broke, rolling down your face as the rain pelted down from the sky. You reached for him and he held you, arms wrapping around you as raindrops rolled down his cheeks.
You both stayed, crouched on the floor with the rain hammering down and soaking you both as he pressed the most tender kisses. First against your forehead, then your temple and finally a gentle peck against your lips.
Eventually, Spike moved, only to remove his leather duster to drape it around your shoulders. You hadn’t brought a jacket despite his insistence back in your shared crypt. He didn’t feel the weather and even if he did he would have done the same. Just as he knew you would for him.  
“Sorry about…”
“Don’t you ever apologise. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, you got nothin’ to be sorry for. I meant it, I always mean it. I’m here for every part of you” The look in his eyes told you that he meant every word. There was no reason for you to ever feel embarrassed, especially not around him. You would never be a burden, nor an inconvenience.
“Thanks” you murmured, but the look he gave you told you that him being here for you was not something he needed to be thanked for, he loved you after all. He was by your side always.
“Let’s get you home, love, catch your death out here” he joked, a watery smile on your face as you pulled his jacket around you. He encouraged you to lean against him as you walked, his arm firmly around your shoulders, the weather clearing if only slightly as you went.
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disco-tea · 2 years
Text
Adding to the “Spike eats garlic” line of thought, todays headcanon is I think Spike wears crosses sometimes. There’s been stuff in canon that implies he’s really not afraid of them even though they burn and he’s definitely not afraid of sunlight so I don’t think it’s a stretch to imagine he might wear a cross because he likes the design or he borrows one of Buffy’s. He wears it over his shirt where it doesn’t touch his skin but sometimes he forgets and reaches up and his hand grazes it.
My final thoughts are, adding all this together, I think it would be funny if there was a new member of the group that simply…didn’t clock that he was a vampire for a long time. Like yeah he seems oddly strong but they’ve never seen him in game face. Why would they think he’s a vampire?? He eats normal food all the time, he’s at Buffy’s house and the magic shop during the day, and they always just miss him crashing into the room on fire. They’ve seen him wear a cross. He’s standing in the background, tossing a bulb of garlic around like it’s a hackey sack.
The first time they see him in game face they scream and freak out and run to Buffy like “SPIKE GOT TURNED INTO A VAMPIRE!” And Buffy’s like…”yeah…he did…before radios were invented…”
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Waves (Spike x YN)
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Request: Nope. Just another concept that turned way too long. Continuation of other fics.
TW: Mentions of blood and phsyical harm.
Word Count: 2.2k
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Another night of hunting. Another night covered in blood. You walked half contorted down the street, in pain after your battle. Your body was regenerating but it was still painful. How many more nights if this hell before you found peace. You would cry, like you did in the past, but there's no point. It brings no relief. So, you just hobbled home in the dead of night hoping no civilian would catch you. Cause what a horrifying sight you are.
Smoke litters the air as Spike exhales. Another night of helping the slayer. Another night of getting his ass handed to him for getting cocky around her. He wishes he wasn't infatuated with her, but life just happens. A quick thought interrupted his line of thought. The cursed slayer. He hasn't seen her in 3 days. He misses her. Now that she doesn't work at The Magic Shop it’s harder to see her. Maybe every other day he'll see her in the cemetery with Buffy or alone but never on a consistent schedule. He knows where she lives... he could visit her. He would blush if he had any blood to produce a blush. How silly is he being? Him, chasing after the cursed slayer. Ridiculous.
He trails off from the cemetery, still debating on whether to visit y/n or not. What reasons would he have for stopping by? The waltz! He offered her a dance! He stops in his tracks and shakes his head. He was being silly. No one that experienced and ancient would care to spend time with him. Even if they were friends. She was just being polite. He tried to reason with himself. He has never felt so much doubt over someone. With Buffy it was straight forward, stalk and wear her down. With y/n it’s so complicated. Like playing a game without rules.
His attention is caught by a trail of blood on the ground. He's on high alert. He follows the zig zag of blood down the street. This is the street to y/n's house. He walks faster, afraid for her safety. As he turns the corner he sees her, a macabre sight of body parts twisted and torn. He holds his breath as if he had any. He rushes to her side.
You become aware of a presence behind you. You're tired and badly hurt, but if a fight has to happen then you are ready.
"Y/n!" Spike yells after you.
The wave of relief that washes over you is insurmountable.
You barely turn as he runs up to you, worry etched on his face.
"Despite my current presentation, I'm fine." You interject before he can get a word out.
"You look like death."
"I'll survive." You try to hobble past him.
Without any warning he scoops you up into his arms, your face against his chest. You feel a blush coming on. He starts at a steady and careful pace back to your house.
"I can walk." You argue.
"Barely" he says.
You sigh. You would never admit it but you like how it feels to be taken care of. You breath in the scent if dirt and leather that clings to Spike. You stay quiet the rest of the way, contemplating how much different your life would be if you had Spike around. You wave the idea away. He belongs to Buffy and you belong to the curse, simple as that.
You reach your house, still in his arms. He gently puts you down on your feet. You're surprised by his gentle nature.
"Thank you." You smile, trying to steady yourself.
"What are friends for." He pauses for a second. "You owe me a dance." He felt like a putz bringing it up in her current state. Why did his brain short circuit around her?
You chuckle. "I haven't forgotten. Maybe next time." You turn away and walk inside your house.
As soon as the door closes, he hangs his head. What an idiot he's being! Asking for a dance when she can barely move. Might as well wear a sign that says touch starved. He walks back home, hands in his pocket, angry and embarrassed. He can still smell her blood on him, making him hungry.
The next day he was itching to see y/n again. He had to wait at the cemetery, maybe? Walk up her street? He didn't know where to locate her, simply that he had to make sure she was okay. After a while he gives up and starts to walking by y/n's street to find her sitting by the curve. She looks in pain.
He rushed to your side. You have a broken leg. You thought it would be a good idea to limp back home after your early but painful altercation with a demon. Spike crouches down to your level.
"What do we got here?" He says in a playful tone trying to hide his concern.
"You should see the other guy."
Spike frowned at seeing the damage. "Can you get up?"
"Yes. And no, you're not carrying me today. I've been taking care if myself for years and I can do it now."
"A bloody terrible job you've been doin’."
"Rude" you get up and start limping again.
Before you can get your footing Spike sweeps you up again. You protest but he hushes you. Again, incredulous. This man is sweet but is getting on your last nerve.
"Sorry love, can't let you waste away." He looks down at you. He notices how fragile you are in his arms, how good you feel so close to him, and how much power he has over you in this one moment.
He quickly looks up, trying to avoid your prodding gaze. "Tell me what happened."
"Simple. Demon had a club. I got cocky. He swung, broke my leg and I swung my sword and cut his head."
"Big fan of decapitation, I see."
"All in a night's work." You grinned.
"You say you’ve always taken care o’ yourself. Does every night end like this?"
"Most nights, yes. It’s just me and the big bad demons. I do get careless cause of the whole immortality bit."
He nods. You both reach your house. He gently puts you down on your feet. You sway and he catches you. You look up, your faces mere inches from each other. You take the time to admire his chiseled face, his sharp cheek bones and his blue eyes. All the while he enjoys getting reacquainted with the valley of your lips, and the deep hue of color in your eyes. He wonders how soft your lips really are. He pulls back at the thought and you almost stumble onto him. He steadies you, from a distance. You laugh at his reaction.
"Once again, thank you. You always seem to show up when I need you, and I appreciate that."
He nods, contemplating his next move. You turn to open, enter and close your door. However, Spike puts his foot on the door.
"I don't want you goin' our without me."
"Excuse me?" You're incredulous.
"Every time you're alone you get hurt. We can't have that now, can we? So, you're with me from now on."
You stand there speechless. Before you can retort he ends the conversation with "I'll pick you up at 9." And walks away.
The following night you wait for him, amused at how the night will turn out. A knock is heard in the distance. You open it to see Spike, your chaperone if the night.
"Good evening. Where to m'lady?"
You laugh at his antics. As you walk towards the woods you explain to Spike your goal for the night. To take down set of twin demons that have been trying to lure children to eat them. Spike is attentive and energized. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to prove to you that he was no sniveling child vampire. Just because there is an 800 year difference between the two of you, it doesn't mean that he's useless.
You both make it to an empty playground.
"Here?" Spike asks.
"Here." You confirm.
So, you sit and wait. Spike steals glances at you, hoping to catch your eye. He has never felt so small and shy. You turn to look at him and smile "nervous, baby boy?"
He is taken aback, speechless. Baby boy! You had some gal! He didn't know if to fight back or let you dominate him. Neither action came to fruition due to two big demons coming into view.
You stand ready, "show time, baby boy." You run up at the twin demons.
Spike needs a minute to rewire his thoughts and calm his feelings. Once reconnected he runs after you to back you up.
You both go on a head on collision with the demons. Spike is surprised at your direct approach. He can tell you're too focused on the win and not on your safety. He swoops in to play defense and keep you safe. While you work on slashing and punching, Spike works on blocking and moving you out of the way. You both work as a unit, fearless of what’s to come. Your bodies speak a language that only you two understand.
The demons are tired and bruised but you guys aren't done. Spike calls your name as he pushes one of the demons your way. Your sword is ready, and you stab into him with ease. Spike misses his cue as you call to him and the other demon attacks him, hurting him. You call to him one last time throwing your sword his way. He catches it with ease and stabs the demon multiple times. You're both triumphant.
You walk up to Spike to assess the damage.
"It's bleeding but not terrible" Spike states.
You nod and sling his arm around your shoulders. You both limp towards your house.
"Thank you. You were amazing." You compliment him.
He smirks, "You weren't half bad."
"If you hadn't been there those demons would've taken me out."
"I know" Spike smiles his shit eating grin.
You stop at your porch and Spike moves away from you. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow night" and he starts walking away.
"Wait, I'm gonna patch you up." You stop him from moving farther away from you.
He freezes. "Love, I'd have to come in..." He trails off at the prospect of being in your home.
You chuckle. "I know." You stand inside your house. "Go ahead, ask."
He couldn't believe it. Dead heart be still. "Can I come in?"
"Nah."
Spike's jaw drops. Ridiculous. He feels like storming off until he hears you laugh which makes his blood boil.
"Wait! Don't leave. I’m sorry. Ask again. Please." You say trying to get your laughter under control.
He asks again, and you say yes. And he feels all the air, if any, leave his body. He was elated and giddy.
He saunters into your home as if it was his own. He takes in the space, the furniture.
"Take a seat, I'll be right back" you point to your couch.
You bring him a cup of water and a med kit. He is humbled at your gesture. So simple yet so loving.
"Take off your shirt." You say as you look through your med kit.
"Buy me a drink first, love" he chuckles and complies.
You make an annoyed face, but it’s quickly washed off at the sight at his body. He was breathtaking. Dips and valleys hidden under hard lines of muscles. You remind yourself to breathe. You refocus and go to tending his wound. You are careful, loving as your work on him.
He admires your gentle hands, So carefully caring for him. Buffy would never. Yet y/n will always. Always. He snaps back from his reverie as you apply the anti-septic to his wound. It stings.
"All new!" You state looking at your handy work.
"Thank you..." he mumbles as he pulls his shirt down.
"My pleasure. I mean, it was a pleasure to help. I mean not that I take pleasure in seeing your hurt. I mean - " Spike places his pointer and middle finger to your lips. A firm but gentle gesture.
"I know what you mean." He smiles, a genuine one. "I have to go now. The sun is rising."
As he turns away you pull at his duster. "Stay."
He turns slowly, in surprise of what he just heard.
"Stay" you repeat. "You can stay on the couch. It’s a pull out."
He makes eye contact. He steps closer, purposefully entering your personal space. One hand distracts itself by playing with your hair. The other ghosted over yours at your side.
He knew, in that moment, that you would look out for him no matter what. The woman he got to know before he knew her as the cursed slayer was still there. The attentive eyes, the smart mouth and the loving heart. All that he needed. He refuses to let himself drown in this feeling. Not yet. He needed time before he let himself swim in your waves of love. But there was no harm in taking a dip, just for tonight.
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gemstone-roses · 1 year
Text
Giles X reader
Me and @my-head-is-an-animal were talking and agreed what needed to be done about the lack of fics for Giles. So here we are.
Thankyou so much @my-head-is-an-animal for reading this over and giving me some fab advice!
Summary: Giles helps you through an anxiety attack.
Word count: 1k ish.
Warnings: contains descriptions of an anxiety attack, loneliness, vague mentions of how people and life can be unkind sometimes. Heavy hurt comfort vibes I can't stop thinking about being comforted by this man okay.
A:N- everyone experiences anxiety differently and this fic will reflect my experiences, but I hope this brings comfort to anyone reading this, as it did for me when writing it. As always 18+ only thankyou! This took SO long to write so please be nice and kind thanku 😊.
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Giles knew immediately he liked you. There was something about you, something, endearing.
You walked in one evening after seeing the assistant required poster on the town noticeboard and when Giles had asked what qualifications you had you responded simply and almost nervously, 'I love books'.
He'd held out his hand and chuckled 'your hired'.
You'd become fast friends with the British librarian ever since. Helping him get books for his students… and the buffy gang, you soon became familiar with the layout of the library.
You spent your evenings curled up in the chair, books piled lazily on the floor, and before long you didn't even need to hesitate to remember the shelf when giles or willow asked for a specific book.
You stayed late most nights, Giles would turn off the main lights and make you a cup of tea while you read and he researched. He looked adorable with his glasses hanging out his mouth when he was thinking .He'd hand you the steaming mug, saucer too, because he's Giles, with a smile each time.
It's been a busy week, every night you've stayed late with giles and buffy and co to help deal with some demon or other.
Finally, the demon was dealt with and buffy and everyone left to have some sort of socialising after a night of battling. You just want to curl up with a book, you've felt off all day and nothing has quite snuffed out that feeling. Usually when you felt like this you'd curl up under the thickest blankets you could find in your place and you'd fiddle with the chain on your neck.
It was a simple piece of jewellery, the small circle hanging in the middle of the chain contained your favourite quote from one of your favourite books in tiny writing. It brought you comfort whenever your hands reached for it. The words brought you comfort.
You'd always found more comfort and affection in books than in people. In the past, life or rather, some people in it, had not been kind to you.
And when that happened, you found your escape in books.
"Tea?" Giles asks, sighing, sending a small smile your way.
"Mm no thanks" you shook your head. You shivered slightly.
"Are you alright?" Giles asks, eyebrows raised, you never turn down a cup of tea from him, it worried him slightly, but he pressed on.
"Mm, just tired" you assured him with a small smile.
Giles is unconvinced.
"Right" he says, and he does that little nod that he does when he's not really paying attention when he's researching and someone talks to him, except this time he is paying attention.
"I'll just put these books back and then I'll get off for the night" you say, your not looking at him though, almost past him. standing up and gathering the books with one hand, the other hand wraps around the chain hanging round your neck, twisting it round your fingers.
"Y/n?" Giles asks, and you're far too concentrated on holding onto the pile of books in your hand you don't notice he's right in front of you.
"Giles" you say, finally looking up at him, your sure that his piercing but concerned gaze can see right through you, right through to your heart hammering in your chest.
Giles takes the books out of your hand gently and places them on top of the shelf.
His hand comes back and lingers on your arm.
"What's the matter?" And he asks so softly you think you might break down then.
Your hand goes back to fiddle with the chain around your neck, it's the only thing you know for a fact brings you even an ounce of comfort ,but Giles reaches for your hand instead, pulling it away, he closes his hand, which is much bigger than yours, around it.
It's a gesture your unfamiliar with.
"I- I'm fine" you whisper
Giles frowns, his hand still holding yours.
"It's alright" he whispers, and the hand that's on your arm squeezes
You close your eyes and let out a shaky breath.
"Hey look at me" Giles says softly.
"m sorry, I don't, i cant- " you go dizzy, your breathing becomes faster, your head spins.
"Breathe,y/n" Giles says. His tone is laced with concern as he looks at you, your chest heaves as he moves his hand to your chin.
"Y/n, i got you" he says softly, his hand swipes at a tear running down your cheek.
"No" you whisper, and Giles frowns again but this time its because he can see you're not used to this kind of… affection, of this kind of.. comfort. And Giles feels a sudden pang of sadness at that,and then an overwhelming urge to make sure you never feel so alone again.
"Come here" he whispers, pulling you into his tight embrace.
You wrap your arms around him like your clinging to a life raft.
"There you go, I got you love" he comforts.
Giles holds you until you've stopped shaking.
"What can I do?" He asks after a moment, still not letting you go.
"im cold" you whisper,
"and tired" you added.
"Come on" he says, ushering you over to the couch in his little office.
Giles shrugs off his jacket and places it over you, when he's satisfied your sufficiently tucked in with his jacket, he sits in the corner of the couch, pulling you close to him.
you bring your knees up to your chest as you curl into him.
His fingers move slowly up and down your arm, comforting. Safe.
"Giles?" You whisper, and he stops and moves slightly.
"Hmm?" He says
"Thankyou" you say softly, and you wrap your arm around his waist and drift off in his embrace.
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multifandomfix · 1 year
Text
Imagine sharing a tender night in with Giles.
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“The bath is ready,” Rupert called. It had been sweet of him to do this for you. He’d set up your favorite candles and made the whole thing very romantic and calming. You really were grateful to have him.
When you walked into the bathroom in your robe, the aroma of the bath and the candles hit you, and you let out a small hum of contentment. Rupert had been midway through undressing when you caught sight of a scar on his upper arm. “How did you get that,” you asked. He followed your eyes to the small scar in question.
“I can’t say I actually remember at this point,” he replied with a half chuckle. “You work with a slayer and you tend to forget the small ones.”
You closed the distance between you with a few steps and you placed a delicate kiss to the faded scar. “Forgotten or not, it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be cared for. Now come, join me.” You untied your robe, letting it slide from your shoulders and become a heap on the floor. Rupert finished undressing himself and got into the warm water with you. You both felt your cares melt away just being there with one another.
Happy Valentine’s Day @micheleamidalajedi
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Rupert Giles: @locke-writes, @rachelrosenberg, @thecupcakevigilante, @bandgeek88
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Mistletoe- Spike
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Pairing: Spike x Reader
Characters: Spike
Warnings: N/A
Request: Wattpad- Hello! Can I have a spike x (gender neutral if you do can) reader that they up kissing under the mistletoe and later confess they like each other
Word Count: 406
Author: Charlotte
It was hard to not find Spike infuriating. Being a vampire, you instantly felt the need to dislike him but also his personality was far from helpful in bringing you around to him. The more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to stake him but that didn’t mean part of you wasn’t intrigued by the vampire you were stuck spending time with. You hated the fact that you found him attractive, you hated the part of you that felt intrigued by the vampire.
You were currently on Spike watch, stuck in Giles’ apartment making sure Spike didn’t do anything too stupid. Even with the festive decorations around each room, reminding you it was coming up to Christmas, you couldn’t find the spirit you’d normally feel when you were ready to pull your hair out due to the current company.
“I swear, Spike,” you huffed. “If you keep on complaining, I’m going to handcuff you to the shower again.”
You had planned to make a cup of tea, but you feared what you would do with the kettle if he continued to follow you around the apartment, moaning about the conditions he was kept in and how much he disliked every little thing about his current life.
“All I’m saying is that this is an inhumane,” he frowned.
“Well, you’re inhuman so that seems rather fair.”
Spike made another whining noise just as you entered the kitchen, forcing you to spin on your heel to snap at the vampire. Before you could say anything, you noticed him looking up at the sprig of leaves hanging above you in the doorway.
“Mistletoe?”
He smirked. “Well, I’m not one to break tradition.”
Your jaw stiffened at the thought, unsure if it was from wanting to kiss him or from hating the idea but maybe it was a bit of both.
“If you think I’m going to kiss you, then you’ll be mistaken.”
He took a step closer to you, lessening the gap between you.
“Don’t pretend that you don’t look at me when you think I’m not paying attention,” he said, letting his hand wander to your hip.
“I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you croaked, your throat becoming dry.
“Of course, you don’t sweetheart,” he chuckled.
You went to try and argue for your pride but before another word could escape you, he had closed the gap between you, your lips pressing firmly together.
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feelsnotfeelings · 8 months
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I Know the early dawn memories are fake but. What if the key had been given form before. And what if she did that creepy child thing where she talked about her past lives or like before she was alive.
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the-crooked-library · 1 month
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does anyone else think about Spike and Giles looking at each other and seeing a personification of the most despised and vulnerable aspects of their own past or is it just me
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doctor-fishbones · 2 years
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Early seasons Xander screams he/him lesbian ♥️♥️
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evieelyzabethh · 25 days
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Love your work. <3 Could you write something with reader x spike where they're kinda' pining for one another, but one night he gets injured and has to stay over at her house? She patches him up and maybe offers him a bite? Doesn't have to be nsfw but +5 cool points if it is. <3
Hello, my loves, long time no see!!! I hope this is to your liking <3
Spike is so incredibly reckless. You knew this, he knew, everybody knew that Spike was a walking accident waiting to happen'. He likes to think he can handle himself. "I'm bad, baby," he'd tell you, "M' the big bad slayer killer. I can handle a few scratches." But you were never worried about what he could handle, you were worried about the fact that his blood was always staining your couch. That and the fact that his lack of self-preservation kept you up at night.
Usually, he has some decorum. He doesn't come to you with every scrape and bruise, even though you handled him with much more care than he was capable of extending to himself. It was his way of punishing himself, depriving himself of your head scratches and soft hands for bothering you too much. You scolded him for this, of course. It seems like its every other week (more like every other day) when you and he argue, most often in front of the Scoobies who waited anxiously for you take your arguments to the bedroom, about him leaving you to worry about whether or not he was ash.
"I mean, fuck Spike. Is it really that hard to just give me a call if you plan on bleeding at your place. A little 'Hi, yeah, I don't think I need my wounds treated with modern medicine, I'm gonna take my chances with old whisky and tetanus like the good ol' days'." And every time he takes his well-earned lecture with a smirk and a bowed head.
"Yes, mother, next time I'll break your door down at three in the morning for some pretty pink bandages."
"If you were so ashamed of the pretty pink bandages, maybe you should think before you run into knives!"
Spike has maybe told the truth a grand total of two times in his whole life, so his word means absolutely nothing. He continues to ignore your street like the plague unless it's an absolute emergency.
Now was an emergency.
You barely heard the faint knocks on your door from your bedroom, where you sat on your bed, music blasting from your stereo and some reality court show droning on in the background, catching your attention when someone decided to be particularly messy. You had thought it was your neighbors blind dog scratching at your door again until something large and loud hit it. Quickly arming yourself with a frying pan, you crept to your door, tearing it open for a very injured Spike to nearly fall flat on your floor before he caught himself using your doorframe.
His left hand clutched at his bleeding side and he walked with a limp over to his couch which now had a plastic cover. His dead heart was touched.
"Aw, you were waiting for me, " he croaked out. He fell on his back, one of his hands falling over the side and his eyes closing as soon as his head at the pillow. His shirt had claw marks that were lined with blood and his duster had barely escaped the carnage, a few holes separate from the preexisting moth holes sticky with some supernatural substance.
"Have to be prepared when it comes to you." You patted his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and arouse some consciousness. "Can't have you fallin' asleep on me. You might not wake up." You weren't going to leave his side until you were sure he wasn't going to die in your absence.
He babbled unintelligently, his mouth moving but having no connection to his brain to form any sort of actual thought. His eyes flit between closed and aware, his head moving to catch up with the spinning room, his mouth impossibly dry, and his head pounding. In his head, he insisted he was fine, but the words wouldn't come out right. He spat them out garbled and messy until he was too choked up to even try anymore.
He was barely conscious when he felt your wrist at his mouth. He had enough sense to shake his head and nudge away your wrist with his nose, but his lack of strength made his attempts futile. "No," he mumbled.
"You'll feel better," your voice swam around in his head until the words lost meaning and he just smiled at the sound of your voice. You swiped your thumb across one of his canines, the red contrasting with the pearly whites of his teeth swiftly wiped away by the pink of his tongue. After the taste of your blood was on his tongue, his sense was surrendered to instinct as he brought your wrist to his lips.
You didn't know what you were getting into. Vampires get their life force from blood, so it just made sense to have him feed from you to expedite the healing process. The more he drank, the louder your heartbeat grew in your ear and the closer he pulled you to him. You had only done this once before, when you were both drink and dizzy and jokes being whispered in your ear turned into tiny nips from your neck that Buffy nearly walked in on.
In complete shock of what had happened then, you never brought it up, halfway convincing yourself that it never happened in the first place. If it did happen, he had enough sense to pull away then and you hoped he had the sense the pull away now, but now was much different. Now, there was a newfound hunger. A desperation. Like he had been starving himself for years and you were the first bite of food he had eaten. Had to have been good food to, with the way he inhaled you, indulged in you like you were some ambrosia or golden mead.
"Spike," you moaned. "I'm getting a bit light-headed." Your voice was high and thin, fearful as you made attempts to pull your arm from his lips. Through his haze, his fangs contracted back, and his tongue swiped whatever lingered on your skin.
"I'm sorry." Sorry for going too far, sorry for almost turning you into an empty Capri Sun pouch, sorry for being reckless again.
" 's ok."
You wobbled a bit as you stood, fingers wrapped around your wound as you shuffled into your kitchen in pursuit of your first aid kit. "You gonna tell me what happened?" He only groaned from the couch.
"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired." You laughed on your way over to him, wrist already covered in gauze with an all too familiar needle and thread in hand.
"You're tired?" The smell of your blood was all too pungent, still. He turned his head towards the wall, studying the numerous music posters and paintings you had hanging.
"Going out to fight evil is a very hard job." You chuckled.
"I know. That's why I stay in here to patch you up." Your fingers were like magic. They always had a way of calming him down. Especially the way you hummed to yourself while you worked. You were never content with just silence. "I expect an answer in the morning." He smiled.
"Yes, ma'am." He fell asleep before you even finished and by the time you were done, you were too tired to walk the down the hall to your bed. You laid your head down on his chest, with no heartbeat to thrum and no breath to rock you, you still fell asleep just like that. Who knew cold bodies were so comfortable.
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prose-for-hire · 11 months
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Toil and Trouble:
(Second part Here)
Pairing: Spike x Harris!reader
Request: Not requested, promise I am writing my requests it just happens so slowly (sorry). I got a bit overwhelmed! So when I get a random burst of inspiration like this it helps get me back into writing what I’m supposed to be writing lol.
(As always reader is gender neutral unless stated otherwise.)
Desc: reader is Xander’s twin, they aren’t a scooby they have their own friends and Xander has always tried to hide the truth about demons from them. What will happen when reader discovers an unexpected house guest in Xander’s basement room?
Warning: mention of heavy drinking (Xander’s uncle) and dysfunctional families. Cigarette.  Reader has hair long enough to be tucked behind an ear.
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You and Xander had always been close. They called you and your twin double trouble, when you were younger. You had been partners in crime, if you will. You spent a lot of time together despite your different personalities. You shared the same sense of humour but after that, you were almost completely different. The arguments you had between you over what movie to watch could go down in the history books. But five minutes later you would be sharing popcorn together and cracking jokes about the movie you were watching.
However, ever since High school there was something of a rift between you. You no longer told each other everything. He started it, in your defence.
Xander was evasive and him and his friends were incredibly secretive, especially around you. You liked Buffy and Willow fine enough but you were always only an acquaintance of theirs. You had your own group of friends in high school and again in college. What you didn’t know about Xander’s increasingly comedic and unconvincing excuses and explanations was that he was trying to hide from you the dangers of Sunnydale. The demons and apocalypses and life or death situations.
He felt he was protecting you, despite Willow’s pragmatic arguments in your favour all the Scoobies agreed to keep it from you.
Where Xander had moved into the basement, you had moved on campus for college. You had promised to come home and stay for your uncles birthday weekend, however, and annoyingly Xander had the excuse of work to miss the predictably dysfunctional meal that was being held in his honour. He had passed you on the way out in his pizza uniform, grabbing you in a side hug before he left with an apologetic glance.
As predicted, it was torture. You had sat there whilst your uncle drank his way through the meal and had seemingly made it into a game of ‘how many comments can I make before they snap’. It reminded you just how glad you were to have got out of the house. The only real reason you came back was to see Xander and he had dashed out of the door.
Once the meal was over and everyone had stopped talking after the inevitable argument that had been brewing since you had stepped through the door, you slid away to try and collect yourself. Rather than going to what had been your room, which had quickly been changed when you had left, you walked down into Xander’s basement.
It was dark, you hadn’t switched the light on. You were going to sit in the chair he had down there and wait for him to rant to him about your uncle. As you felt around for the chair, you managed to touch something unfamiliar, you and the chair let out a yelp at the same time.
You scrambled for the light and saw a man sat in the chair, no, not sat in it. Tied to it. Tightly, too. He was cute, just your type too. You couldn’t help staring at him, something he caught as he smirked in your direction.
“Like what you see?” He raised his eyebrows, eyes not leaving yours. When you grinned at his words, he swore he felt his heart soar in his chest. A feeling he quickly tried to beat back down again. He wouldn’t do this again, fall for someone like this. Not so quickly, so easily.
“I’ve seen better, I suppose” You beamed when he chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of Xander’s bed.
“Hidin’ are you? Gotta say, your family aren’t exactly winners, pet”
“And there was me thinking I had won the ‘rental lottery” You offered before explaining, “I was only really here for Xander and he didn’t even stay for dinner. Just needed somewhere to…”
“Relax?” Something in his voice told you that he understood. Or at least
“Yeah, I’m not gonna even ask why you’re here tied to a chair” You smiled, you had been the kindest human he had met since getting chipped. In fact, probably of all time. He didn’t really want to tell you what he was and make you leave him here in the dark. He was enjoying the company.
For the first time in a while, he was feeling like himself again. Or at least some version of himself. One he actually liked. He decided to explain to you how he had got here, perhaps a slightly edited version. Well, a heavily edited version. One that would also make him into the hero, of course.
He spoke like a poet, you were hanging on every word. Every syllable. The story was clearly edited, but you really didn’t care. You felt it in the emotion, in the feeling of what he was saying. That couldn’t be made up.
As he spoke, the night had gone darker and the streetlights had turned on. You smiled softly, both of you were feeling a little lost in your own ways. You felt connected to him, even after only a few hours of knowing him.
“You know, in the light from that streetlamp, you glow” He let the words hang in the air, trying to gauge your reaction. In that moment, you knew he had sensed it too. Some spark. Some potential.
“I need a drink. You wanna go to the Bronze?”
“Kinda tied up at the moment, love” He moved his palms to prove it, showing a flash of black nail varnish.
You leaned in and untied him, your face so close to his. The proximity made the atmosphere around you both intense, your breath tickled his cheek and he closed his eyes slowly.
Once the ropes were loose, he jumped to his feet instantly, gripping your elbow as if to steady himself. Tiny surges of electricity fizzled through you at the contact. Though he didn’t need it for balance, he just wanted an excuse to stand close to you. His hand moved towards you, eyes never breaking from yours, catching a loose strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear.
He looked as if he was going to lean into you, closing the space. You swallowed thickly, his brilliantly blue eyes dipping to your lips just as-
The door of the basement slammed open, hitting the wall beside it. Heavy footsteps could be heard descending the stairs towards you. Spike stepped backwards and you already felt cold from the absence of his presence.
You turned to find your brother, mouth agape as he stared between the two of you.
“Wh- why is Spike-?!” words escaped your brother in his shock.
“His circulation was getting cut off, stop panicking”
“I’m not panicking. I’m not. I’m not. Stop looking at me like I’m panicking!”
“Kinda looks like panicking, mate” Spike said, rolling his eyes and sliding on his leather duster.
“Me and your friend hit it off, I asked him out” You explained, tugging on your own jacket.
“Goin’ for a bite aren’t we, love?” Spike’s eyes sparkled as Xander caught his intended meaning.
“Tell them not to wait up. Or better yet, don’t tell them anything-” You gestured upwards as you started to leave when Xander, clearly in an argument with himself on whether to tell you something he had kept secret for a long time, decided he needed to say something.
“He’s my hostage!”
“I’ll bring him back, God, Xander you are so annoying”
“Don’t I get a bloody say?”
“No!” You said together, which almost put Spike off you entirely until you smiled at him again and then he was wrapped around your little finger.
He had never met anyone like you. You were strong, clearly, but so in touch with your emotions. All throughout the conversation you had for the hours before Xander walked in had felt more of a connection than anything he had said in decades to any other.
“Y/n, he’s dangerous! You can’t take him! This is my foot, and it’s going down!” Xander pointed to his foot and you gave it a light kick as you replied.
“What is it with you? It’s always, it’s my turn with the hostage, you’re a minute younger you can sit in the sandpit and wait!”
“BOTH OF YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP! NOW!” A call came from upstairs, masking Xander’s yelp at your kick and  sent you both into a whisper argument that even Spike could barely hear.
“Ought to get goin’ pet, we could go for a nice, secluded walk after” Spike’s smirk widened as you nodded and started for the door. Xander’s panic had reached it’s peak, he was flailing his arms around in urgency.
“Y/n, there are things- complex things that you don’t know about. Spike is… Spike’s a…”
“Vampire? Yeah, Xander, I know. He’s whiter than snow, I’m not an idiot” You rolled your eyes at your brother, how dumb did he think you were?
Obviously Spike was a vampire or this hostage thing would be entirely too weird for you to get involved in. Plus, Spike had explained that he had been chipped by the Initiative and you had told him that you were definitely not (and never would be) part of your brothers lame little Scooby gang.
You knew all about demons and vampires and the like. You and your friends had been fending them off since high school, just perhaps not as well as your brother and the slayer. And what’s more, you knew all about the slayer too. You had accidentally walked into the library one afternoon when your librarian and Buffy had been fighting something spooky.
You had hidden so they hadn’t seen you but you overheard them say something about the chosen one, the slayer and then you had done some research of your own. You waited for Xander to tell you himself but it had been too long now and you had just never confronted him about it.
“How long have you known?”
“About as long as you’ve been keeping it from me”
Spike, who had weirdly known better than to get involved again, just stared between them. He was bored, he just wanted to spend more time with you. Who knew being chipped would have led to something like this? Finding someone that he lo-
Really liked. You just really like them, you nit.
“We’ll talk, Xander. Just, tomorrow, okay? I’m going out”
Spike grinned evilly over his shoulder at Xander as he slung an arm over your shoulder, whispering lowly in your ear as you walked away. You and your brother would have to talk, maybe shout at each other for a while. But it could all wait.
Spike lit up a cigarette and offered you took a drag as you walked by his side. The night was young and full of promise. Spike spoke almost non-stop on your way there, something he hadn’t found himself doing in an age. He tried to impress you with stories of past fights he had won, historical events he had witnessed. He just wanted to see you smile.
Yeah, you could definitely get used to this.
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disco-tea · 1 year
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Gosh what I would’ve given for Spike to get hit with some sort of spell that literally turned him back into 1880 William with the hair and the glasses and heartbeat and everything and he’s like really Struggling To Cope with suddenly being in modern times but like I want to see how he’d interact with everybody and they’d all be so frickin confused and wouldn’t it be so funny if he actually took to the monster/research stuff really well because he knows and can read multiple languages and was actually quite educated and he asks if he can use one of those newfangled contraptions called a “Typewriter” and they show him the computer and he has a stroke. And like he gravitates towards Giles a little because “oh! A fellow countryman!” and Giles suddenly hates everyone and everything and William can’t figure out why Xander is unnecessarily mean to him and then there’s Dawn who’s nice to him but says she’s going to have to tease him about this later and he doesn’t get what she means but he likes her because she reminds him of the sister he might’ve had if she hadn’t died in infancy and then there’s Buffy and he’s just a nervous mess whenever she’s around and like he’s always practically jumping to his feet when she walks in and rushing to open the door and pull out her chair and he keeps offering her his jacket and his arm and she just can’t bring herself to tease or be mean to him about it because he’s genuinely very sweet and then there’s the fact he doesn’t actually even know what happened to him and Buffy forces/practically threatens everybody not to tell him because he mentioned that he knows some writer friends who are into this new thing called “science fiction” and some of them have these ideas about traveling through time and he thinks maybe that’s what happened to him and he’s so worried about his mother and as much as he likes them all he’s going to have to find a way to get back to her because she’s sick you see, she’s very very sick and he’s her only family and Buffy doesn’t have the heart to tell him that there is no going back because that’s not what happened.
Just. This concept.
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Not Yet (Spike x Y/N)
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Requested: nope
TW: Mentions of alcohol and drinking. Mentions of rough s e x.
Word count: 1.7k
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If his body wasn't cold, steam would be rolling off it. Kiss after kiss. Grope after grope. Spike couldn't get enough. He knew it was wrong. He knew it wasn't real, but he needed it. Buffy was rough and demanding in her lovemaking, if you could call it that. She threw Spike around as if boneless and limp. She focused on meeting her needs without regard to Spike or his feelings. Spike held on and let himself be dominated. Even for a moment, he felt loved.
After Buffy has had her fill, she leaves Spike spent and tired. He knew she would return later this week. He knew it wasn't the touch that he craved, but it was the touch he deserved. Though a hopeless romantic, he couldn't fathom real love. He was immersed in a world of pain and destruction, and that is all he deserved. Unless... it was with y/n. With her time stopped. He was whole. A man. With her, there was partnership and laughter. With her, there was something he didn't deserve but desperately craved.
He got dressed and ready to pick her up. It was just another night of hunting. Buffy and Y/n decided to divide and conquer instead of working together. Buffy kills vampires, and y/n kills demons. Their decision to go their separate ways meant that Spike had to make time for both, being degraded and then being valued. Honestly, he preferred the latter.
He strolled down to y/n's house, ready to be by her side. He wanted to enjoy her scent, her presence, and her kindness. He promised to knock on the door instead of barging in, so he complies. Two knocks, and he waits.
You open the door, greeting him in your bathrobe. Spike is taken aback. "A bit early, am I?"
You chuckle, "no. I forgot to tell you yesterday. I'm taking the day off today. I want to rest."
Spike is crestfallen. You resting was good for your health but bad for his heart. This meant he wouldn't get time by your side.
"Oh... well... alright then. I'll see you..." He tries to hide his disappointment.
"I didn't say you had to leave."
A smile trails his face. "What do you have planned?" He said leaning against your doorframe.
"Well," you pondered, "you owe me a dance..." You grin.
He sighs, feigning annoyance when, in fact, he's been dreaming of the chance to hold you again. "Fine."
You invite him in. "Wait here. Let me change."
He sits on the couch. He takes in the scent of your home. It was you enveloping him, welcoming him. He could get used to this. To be in your space was to be at peace.
You come out in a flowy sundress. He forgets that he has no breath and feels a loss of air. As if the sight of you could bring him back to life. He stands up quickly.
"Darling, you are a vision."
You blush, "it's just an old dress."
He smiles softly as he approaches you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You lock eyes, and time stops.
You catch the faint smell of Buffy on his skin. The smell of leather, dirt, and cigarette masks it well. You remind yourself of your friendship. There's nothing more. You remind yourself to breathe.
"Where do we start?" He whispers.
"Let's move some furniture and I'll get some tunes off my phone."
You work together to make space in the living room. You find a generic watlz Playlist, and you take your places in the center of the room.
Spike feels nervous and silly. He has waltzed many times but never with anyone of interest. Here you were, his friend waiting for his touch, his guidance.
He places his left hand on your back and holds your left hand with his right, and it felt like it's the first time he has been touched. You hold his hand firmly and place your other hand on his shoulder. It felt right.
The music starts. Soft. He guides your body, and you follow. Your turn and sway to the music, feeling the ebb and flow of your bodies. Synchronicity and attunement. You were a unit, inseparable.
Spike looked into your eyes, swimming for his life. He recognized something in them. Something he didn't deserve.
You locked eyes with Spike. A smile painted on your face. This was the moment you wished for. It felt like peace. It felt like the end of your journey. You wondered how you could use this moment to break your curse, but it was far too weak to take over a 1,000 year old curse. Nevertheless, it was perfect. It's been so long since you've been able to rest.
"Does this please you, love?" Spike asked as you both danced.
You nodded, "It reminds me of the last time I danced. It's been so long."
"Thinking of another man while in my arms, you dirty bird?" He smirked
You laugh, "No. I'm thinking of how good it felt. Dancing is very relaxing."
"So, no man comes to mind?" He asks, a little jealousy in his voice.
"Oh, yeah. One man. A British guy, poet, auburn hair, with glasses. A sweet man with beautiful eyes. Too shy for my taste but definitely a prize." You mused much to Spike's disdain.
"Sounds like a pratt." He said through his teeth.
You laugh, big and full. "He was a crush for the moment. Someone to dream a future with. Even though I knew it was impossible, he made me feel free." You made sure to dig in on your remarks. Part of you knew that this was your getback for Spike sleeping with Buffy. If he had her, why couldn't you at least have your memories.
Spike did a mistep causing you to fall into him. Your face against his chest, his hands catching your body. You both still. You raise your face. You're mere inches from his face. Lips, almost gracing. Your breath hitches in your chest. Spike looks down at you intrigued at your next move.
"Did he ever hold you like this?" He whispered.
"No..."
Time stops, and you feel like melting into him. So close and yet so far. You knew better, but at this moment, all that mattered was what he tasted like. At the same time, you wanted to ask if it felt like this when he held Buffy. The thought pushed you away from the moment. You straightened and stepped away.
"Do you want water?" You walk into the kitchen.
Spike smacks his forehead. What was he doing? What did he want? He follows you into the kitchen. "Got any booze?"
"Oh, it's that kind of party?" You giggle.
You bring out different types of liquers and beers. "Pick your poison."
"Shots and then drinks."
You pour two shots. You both pick it up and clink your drinks before drinking it. You both sigh at the bitterness of the spirit.
You share a bottle of wine. A bittersweet red. Something that reminded Spike of blood.
"Thank you. That was fun." You break the silence.
Spike grins, "Anytime, love. It's been awhile. Sorry for stopping abruptly." He says in between sips of the wine.
You nod not knowing how to address his reaction to you talking about a past love. You didn't know how to communicate how much you loved his reaction, or the fact that he held you that close.
Spike becomes aware of Buffy's scent on him. Embarrassment takes over. He hoped that you didn't notice. How could he knock boots with Buffy and then run into your arms? You deserved respect. He made a mental note to shower next time.
You both drank the night away. Chatting and connecting. You share laughter and playful touches. The touches lingered with time. Personal space was non-existent. By the end of the night, you were cuddling on your couch. You were sleepy, and your words slurred, which made you giggle more. Spike watched attentively and committed every smile and sigh to memory.
"The sun is about to raise, love." He mentioned.
You stirred in his arms, "Already?"
He held you close, taking in the scent of your hair. "Yes, love." He hated the idea of moving, but he knew this wasn't his scene. Not yet.
You both, slowly, part. You miss his body, and he misses yours. You both slowly get up, wordless.
"Are you staying?" You ask silently.
"Not tonight, love." He hated himself for that answer.
"I understand." You mask the disappointment in your voice.
He walks to your kitchen and comes back with a cup of water. " 'm not leaving 'till you drink it."
"Then I'm never drinking it." You smile as you take the cup.
He smiles, big, and full. "Cheeky."
You finish the water and set the cup down on your coffee table. You walk Spike to the door. "Thank you again. You're the best friend I've ever had."
Spike is taken aback by your compliment. He basks in it. "Anything for you, love." He leans in and kisses her cheek. He turns and walks away before you can react.
You place a hand where his lips were. You felt lightheaded, but you didn't know if it was the alcohol or Spike's affection.
Spike walked fast-paced but happy all the way to his mausoleum. He pondered his actions tonight. He went fom degradation to...dare he say it? Not yet. He wanted time to bask in the effects of tonight. The sensations. The scents. He wanted to capture tonight into his being forever. Never had he had such intimacy, so much vulnerability. All ready for the picking, but not yet. He had much to offer but not enough to be loved by her, or so he told himself. He didn't deserve it. Not yet. Someday, soon, he will be able to bypass the degradation and the self-mutilation that is his rendezvous with Buffy. On that day, he will be good enough, whatever that means, for y/n... but not yet. So, until then, he had pain, destruction, and tonight's memory to keep him afloat.
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liam-summers · 27 days
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Bangel + Forehead Touch
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ang3lik · 6 months
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KINKTOBER
(masterlist.)
hi!! so basically i thought instead of doing a celebration for 2k i’ll just do a kinktober and ficmas!! i want to thank you all so much for all the wonderful support and feedback i’ve received, even though writing has been a pain, thankyou all for being so kind and patient! i love you all so much! <3
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there’ll be 4 fics each week starting on the 03/10 and finishing on the 31/10.
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week one ::
• 3/10 — bill kaulitz x size kink…. • 5/10 — owen x public sex… • 7/10 — sophie d’or x temperature play…. • 9/10 — jacob black x breeding kink…
week two ::
• 11/10 — tom kaulitz x daddy kink… • 13/10 — vampire!bill kaulitz x blood play…. • 15/10 — faith lehane x degradation… • 17/10 — never!tedros x throat training…
week three ::
• 19/10 — kevin khatchadourian x dacryphilia… • 21/10 — edward cullen x monster fucking… • 23/10 — gustav schäfer x praise kink… • 25/10 — cordelia chase x mommy kink…
week four ::
• 27/10 — carlisle cullen x spit kink… • 29/10 — georg listing x phone sex… • 31/10 — tom kaulitz x roleplay/fearplay/knifeplay…
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i really hope you enjoy this event! and of course enjoy the spooky season!! 🎃
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