#and i was raised by buffy the vampire slayer

[teecupangel]

vampire au but (almost) every assassin is a vampire bc i mean.. vampire edward tho 👁🫦👁

I promise I'll make an actual long fic idea but now, just let me drool over the idea of Assassin vampires.

Alright, now that I got that out of my system (absolutely not), I guess we'll start from the beginning.

Buckle up, it's long because I 'accidentally' included all main AC protagonists in this fic idea hahaha

For a Vampire AU, my top two ideas are:

Let's make it full AU. We replace the Isus with Vampires.

OR

Vampires are one of the 'failed' experiments of Juno and Aita, just like the werewolf in Atlantis (maybe it was meant to give a body that can survive the solar flare but, instead, it freaking got a weakness for sunlight, super fail)

Regardless, one of the vampires survived the solar flare. We'll call this one the 'progenitor'. This progenitor vampire has a body that needs blood to survive. Human blood is the best because they're the closest to the progenitor's body. Animal blood barely helps. It would take dozens to be equivalent to one adult human.

So this progenitor drinks human blood. Through trial and error, they understand the limitation of their body. Sunlight burns them. They're faster and stronger than humans, being able to easily pin down a man three times larger than them.

Their senses let them see everything clearly. White means food. Red means danger.

They stay in the dark. They keep to themselves.

Then, one day...

Someone finds them.

Has been tracking them down.

Because one of the humans they fed from had a rich father who was willing to pay handsomely for their head.

So they fight the mercenary that found them. They fought and overpowered the mercenary.

But the mercenary manages to nick them. And their blood drips to the panting mouth.

And that's when the progenitor realized.

They could make humans loyal to them by giving them a bit of their blood.

To make them a thrall.

And that's how the Misthios Kassandra from Sparta became the progenitor's first thrall.

With Kassandra, the progenitor starts to experiment with just how much blood is needed to make a full thrall. Kassandra needed more than a drop but the drop was enough to hypnotize her, just like how their progenitor could hypnotize humans with their voice if they focus hard enough.

So he kept feeding Kassandra more blood until she became a full thrall. Loyal to a fault. With the same limitations as a human but just a tad stronger than humans and wounds that will heal the same quick speed as them. Unfortunately, even a full thrall must drink their master's blood regularly. Otherwise, the thrall will be removed.

And that was what happened with Kassandra. They fought once more. This time, the strength she received from the progenitor was enough to scare the progenitor and they hurt her too much. As she's dying, the progenitor tried to feed her their blood, in hopes that she will become a thrall and her wounds will heal.

She dies.

They bury her.

And she raises from the ground the next evening.

Not as a thrall.

But a vampire like the progenitor.

The thrall was gone.

Her hatred stays though. Not only that, but she was now a vampire like them. She tries to attack them but she cannot.

For the progenitor is her sire. Her blood refuses to harm them.

So she leaves.

And the progenitor is alone once more.

====================

Years passed.

The progenitor travels. They can feel Kassandra still alive, still angry.

But just as lonely as the progenitor.

So they stay away. Travel elsewhere.

That's when they saw her.

A human yet not.

A vampire yet not.

A dhampir, a union of vampire and human.

Kassandra's child.

But why was she alone?

Did Kassandra not realize that her child was not fully human?

Did she leave to give her a chance for a normal life but accidentally give her a life of loneliness, full of fear and confusion.

So the progenitor adopts the scared child, taught her all they know.

They treated her like their own child.

And experimented on what will happen if a dhampir was given blood.

As a dhampir, she grew the same as humans. Sunlight does not harm her. But she was as strong and as fast as a vampire.

Her senses were the same as a vampire.

Yet her stamina was the same as a human. Her body bruised and bled like a human.

She was better than a thrall in some ways, sure, yet limited by her half-human body.

And when she drank vampire blood.

Nothing happened.

How boring.

Yet she was loyal to the progenitor. Not because of any thrall, she was immune to it but because they were her parent. The one person who taught her and took care of her. Blinded by loyalty and love, she stayed with them. Became their eyes and ears in the daylight.

She glowed as blue. Their very first blue.

Their daughter.

And she fell in love.

To a medjay.

And he loved her back.

They give the progenitor humans to feed on. Criminals. Bad people.

The progenitor didn't mind.

Blood was the same regardless of how many laws a human broke.

If it soothed them, gave them an excuse not to feel bad about sacrificing fellow human beings... Then so be it.

The dhampir married the man. The progenitor stays with them. More like an in-law than anything.

Everything was peaceful.

They could not have any children.

The progenitor realized it was because the dhampir was sterile. A common trait of 'hybrids'. Still, the dhampir and her husband were together and in love.

But all things must come to an end.

Egypt is thrown into chaos and they are caught in the middle. The man lay dying in his wife's arms.

And so...

The progenitor tries once more.

The man who had never been their thrall was gifted with the progenitor's blood.

He dies that day.

And he wakes that evening.

As a vampire.

They are happy once more.

In their happiness they forgot to feed the man.

Deep into the night, when they have grown tired from the stress and the celebration, they go to sleep. The man wakes up and drinks the blood of the first person he sees.

His own wife.

His hunger fulfilled, his mind was clear once more. And he saw what he had done. He runs in shame. The commotion wakes the progenitor who sees the dhampir barely clinging to life.

So they try.

They gives up their blood to their daughter and prays.

The following night...

She wakes.

Not as a dhampir but as a vampire.

And she is angry.

Not at the progenitor but at her husband.

For running away instead of staying with them.

The progenitor tries to remind her that it was shame and grief that propelled him to leave. That he still loves her.

But she did not listen.

She leaves to find him. Whether to kill him or to bring him back, the progenitor does not know.

What they did know is that they are, once again, alone.

====================

Years passed.

They feel Kassandra, Aya and Bayek yet they do not see any of them. The world is too big for their paths to intersect.

Or perhaps it was more accurate to say they themselves try not to get close to any of them.

For Kassandra, they knew it was better this way. Kassandra's anger still burns strong.

For Aya and Bayek, it is... pettiness that keeps them from following either of them. Their selfishness brings the progenitor nothing but irritation and tiredness. So they stay away.

In their travels, they meet a shieldmaiden who sees them drinking blood. She calls him a draugr and she hunts him. He runs and runs but she is a good hunter. A good tracker.

When there is nowhere left to go, they fight her. Pent up anger for his three stubborn childes propelled them to turn her into their thrall. To make her their slave. To do their bidding with no free will at all.

And when she grew old and weak, they let her go. Let her shout about the draugr that enslaved her. Let her words be heard and mocked.

As they returned to the shadow once more.

====================

But someone follows them. Someone from the shadows. Not like them.

But their blood...

The progenitor could taste the blood of their daughter running through them.

Too weak.

Like this human had an ancestor who had been a thrall instead.

And that made him weak to the progenitor. To desire a closeness with them.

So they let the human live. Give them a bit of their blood, not to enslave them but to show them that they can be a kind master if they wanted to be.

And the human guides them to the Hidden Ones. A cult created by his daughter, taking evil men from the streets and offering them to her.

To their queen.

And they know of the progenitor.

The one they call the Master.

And so they took the seat their daughter left empty, all because she is still searching for her husband.

And, to the man who brought them here, they rewarded him with the title of mentor.

The man cast away his birth name of Hytham.

And became the first Al Mualim.

====================

Centuries passed and they grow bored.

In their boredom, they grow complacent.

And that is how they are captured.

Encased in an iron chamber that pierces their body in places that will not kill them.

But will make them bleed.

So they bleed.

And the one who captured them...

The latest Al Mualim...

Uses their blood to create an army loyal to him.

Years passed.

They are forced to drink blood from a contraption Al Mualim created for them. Fresh human blood, yes, but fed to them like they were livestock.

They bleed.

And their blood creates thralls that Al Mualim controls.

They are powerless. Encased in an iron chamber that bleeds them. Chained and locked with an absurd amount of locks and chains.

But it was enough to keep them contained.

Unable to escape.

Until...

The chains fell.

The locks dropped.

And the chamber finally opens.

And the first person they see is a man with golden eyes.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

The first of their favorites.

====================

To be turned became a reward only given to the most loyal of their Brotherhood.

Not a cult anymore.

But a Brotherhood of Assassins.

Serving the light by staying in the shadows. Assasinating only to rid the world of evil.

Blah blah blah

They didn't care all that much as long as they feed. And they were fond of Altaïr.

Being saved does that to most beings, even someone as old as them.

And perhaps they were lonely too. Estranged from their first childe, forgotten by their daughter and her husband...

Altaïr was a curious man, unafraid of them. He treated them like they were equals. He asks questions but he also indulges their whims. He never tries to keep them locked in a room. When night comes, he joins them as they sit on the top of their tallest tower, enjoying the cold breeze and the freedom they lost all those years ago.

He gave them a name. For he believes everyone must have a name.

Desmond.

From the French word 'des mond(es)'... The Worlds.

A grand name.

They like it. They will wear the name with pride.

And they gave Altaïr a gift in return.

For saving them.

For treating them well.

Altaïr was not their first childe. But he will always be the first childe they sired not out of fear or desperation or by accident.

A childe sired out of love.

====================

There was a coup. By those who believed they deserved to be turned. They failed.

But many died.

The remnants of the Brotherhood returned to the shadows. The loyal thralls made their way all around the world. To build safe houses and connections that can be used by the inner circle.

By Desmond's inner circle.

They travel. Years passed traveling all over. They stayed in the continent that will later be called Europe. The Templars, the Brotherhood's hated enemy, change their name as well. Yet, they still hunt down the Brotherhood.

They hunt down Desmond.

The one they call The Devil.

But Desmond is not afraid. Why should they be? They finally had childes who care for them.

They had a family.

One of the thralls did well in Italy. His descendants became a noble house and they welcomed Desmond and his inner circle with open arms.

One of the children was a curious little boy.

And Desmond indulges him. Plays with him.

Even as the boy grows older, he still gravitates towards Desmond.

Not because Desmond was the progenitor, the most important secret of the Brotherhood.

But because of Desmond's kindness and smiles.

The boy is loyal.

The boy brings the entire Templar Order in Italy on its knees.

And cuts its head off.

Only then does Desmond realize.

That they had been blind for years now.

The boy they saw had been a man for years now.

And the man deserves a reward.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze was not their first childe.

But he was the most successful of their childes.

====================

They continue to travel. To see the changes of the world. And to keep people from realizing that they do not grow old. It is during these travels in the high seas that they are attacked by a pirate ship. Their ship was damaged but they won.

But Ezio had been severely wounded, dripping blood all over the dying pirate who nearly cut his head off while he was protecting a wounded human brother. They didn't know it at that time though.

The chaos and Desmond's panic over Ezio almost dying were more important. They threw the corpses overboard.

That night...

Edward Kenway rose from the depths of the sea.

Edward Kenway became a rogue vampire. He only cared for gold and glory. The Brotherhood stayed and observed. They guided when they could but left Edward Kenway alone.

Desmond had asked them to.

For Desmond wanted to see.

What kind of vampire Edward Kenway would be.

Years passed...

The age of piracy comes to an end.

And Edward Kenway comes to them.

Comes to Desmond.

Asking for guidance.

Pleading for a purpose in life.

So Desmond welcomes him.

And gives him purpose.

As a member of the Brotherhood.

====================

Edward did not know it then. That he had a daughter.

And a son.

Different mothers. The wife he left to become a privateer then a pirate later on. The woman he spent the nights with while on a mission for the Brotherhood.

Edward found his daughter. Welcomed her into their Brotherhood.

His son was lost. Taken by the Templars who whisper in his ears the kind of monsters vampires are.

The Templars are successful in indoctrinating him.

Haytham Kenway.

The Templar's very own vampire hunter dhampir.

Haytham Kenway became their very own boogeyman. The strength of his vampiric lineage and the weaponry of the Templars serving a keen and observant mind.

The Brotherhood learns of his history and things become more complicated.

Orders to not kill Haytham Kenway resounded all over the Brotherhood.

For he was of Edward Kenway's blood.

Of Ezio Auditore's blood.

He was their family.

But Haytham Kenway used this weakness to his advantage.

Killing any and all members of the Brotherhood he found.

Humans.

Thralls.

Vampires.

In desperation, Edward did what was forbidden.

That winter night, the dhampir Haytham Kenway died in his father's arms.

The following night, Haytham Kenway awakened as a full vampire.

====================

Haytham Kenway as a vampire did not change his stance. He was still loyal to the Order and he still hunted the Brotherhood.

All it did was make him hate himself more. Hate his vampiric nature.

And that hatred only made him more dangerous.

On the other hand...

As he was sired by Edward Kenway, he could not harm Edward anymore. As Edward's sire, he could not harm Ezio as well.

And, most importantly, he could not kill The Devil.

So he took in members of the Order. Trained them in his ways. He did not turn them, of course not, that would only hinder them.

And they became the best of the Templars' vampire hunters.

But one of them was better than all of them.

May even be better than Haytham as a vampire hunter.

Shay Patrick Cormac.

A man who used to be a member of the Brotherhood. A thrall that left after a horrifying event that changed him.

Haytham found his successor.

He found the vampire hunter that will kill The Devil.

====================

Perhaps it had been a moment of weakness.

Perhaps it had been true love.

Regardless of the truth, the fact remained.

Haytham Kenway had a son.

And Edward found him as a babe, nursing from his mother's tit. Shrouded by the darkness, he took the child away and returned to Desmond.

He gifted the baby to Desmond.

A way to repent for how he had inadvertently created their greatest enemy?

A desire to have even just a piece of his son yet shackled by guilt and pain?

Edward did not say his reasoning.

All he asks is that Desmond takes the dhampir.

So Desmond did.

Connor Kenway was raised as a dhampir who believed he was Desmond's son. He was raised with love and his days were filled with happiness.

His favorite was Uncle Edward who sometimes visits to give him the nicest of gifts.

As he grew older, he learns the truth.

Of his parentage.

Of Haytham Kenway.

So he tries.

He tries to build a bridge between Haytham and them.

But the bridge he was trying to build was on top of a raging river that destroys everything that falls into it.

In the end, Connor had to make a choice.

A father who he knew nothing about and hellbent on destroying everything he held dear.

Or a father who raised him with love and gave him a choice.

In the end, Haytham Kenway dies in the arms of a son he did not know.

====================

They followed Shay Cormac to Paris where he gathers what remains of Haytham Kenway's vampire hunters and the rest of the Parisian Rites of the Templar Order. Amidst the cries of the people and the growing tension between the nobles and the common folks, two young people are driven apart by their family.

Elise de la Serre becomes a Templar and trains under Shay Cormac.

Arno Victor Dorian is turned into a vampire by Ezio Auditore who takes the young man under his wing.

Their shared history comes into play as Elise starts to dream. Dreams that leave her hot and wanting.

Her nights are filled with such delicious dreams. Her days are filled with horror as more and more of their members are killed or gone missing.

Yet, this does not break her. She is a strong-willed human. She learns the truth soon enough.

Of how Arno had used their past, their previous romantic entanglements, to make her his thrall. How she gave him everything the Order told her or what she learned all on her own.

How her knowledge was the reason why so many of the Orders died.

She tells Shay all of these. Shay gathers what remains of their forces and they help her remember.

Remember the place that Arno always takes her when she is under his thrall.

The temple underneath Le Marais.

They go there to find clues.

What they found was a trap.

And they learn that Elise did break. After learning how everything was her fault, that she led all of those people to their death...

To be told that the reason why Arno had been able to enthralled her was because, underneath all that desire to be a Templar, to be taken seriously, was a lonely child wishing to be loved by a father and mother who were too busy trying to keep the Parisian Rites of Templars alive.

That underneath all that loyalty to the Order, she hated it for taking her parents away.

Two factions entered the temple underneath Le Marais that day.

Only one faction left the temple that night.

====================

Evie and Jacob Frye were children of the Brotherhood. They were wild and brave.

And they had something to prove to dear old father.

So they travel to England to hunt down the Templars. They create their own gang and destroyed the Templars plan.

The words of their deeds (and the chaos that came after them) reached Edward Kenway who was... perhaps a bit estranged from the Inner Circle by this time. A self-imposed punishment, perhaps. He sees the joy and brashness of the two and it reminds him of how he was before.

So he turns the twins into his thralls. Not enough to enslave them but enough to just give them a little boost. And he guides them.

He helps them.

He builds a family with them.

Years later, when England is fully under Brotherhood control, it would be Edward Kenway who would greet his fellow favored childes with a grin. He would hug his grandson who was now a fellow childe, one of the progenitor's favorite if the rumors were to be believed.

And he would be the one to introduce the Frye twins to Desmond.

And ask that the progenitor reward them.

And Desmond would see the joy on Edward's face. The peace in his eyes.

And they would smile as they say yes.

====================

Decades would pass and humanity will grow. They will develop cures for diseases that once killed hundreds, if not thousands, of them. They will invent objects and techniques that would make their lives easier. Humanity will prosper and destroy itself, over and over again.

And the Brotherhood will remain in the shadows. Forever foiling the plans of the Templars. Taking in thralls to keep them in check while securing their safety.

But there will be humans who will find their way into the Brotherhood.

Who will become part of the Brotherhood.

A girl raised in an orphanage being run by the Brotherhood.

A talented woman with a knack for technology.

A curious man who found the truth among thousands of conspiracies all over the world.

A broken man trying to keep himself together and looking for a place to belong.

A frustrated woman wanting to be acknowledged for the work she has done.

The Brotherhood welcomes them all.

Whether they stay as they are or become a thrall is up to them.

Perhaps...

They might even be rewarded by the progenitor.

[clarkgriffon]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER 6x19 | “Seeing Red” 

[destiel-wings]

have you watched Angel? Just curious ?

OF COURSE I HAVE!! It's one of my favorite shows!! ❤

Buffy was literally my foundation, i first watched it back in 2004 and it's been my first and main obsession (up until 2021, when the Supernatural/destiel brainrot consumed me). So yeah, I've always seen Angel as an extension of the Buffyverse, even though it's a very solid show by itself too.

[somekindofadeviant]

'Ah, but why would Spike and Dru be called in and entrusted with helping to look after a precious miracle baby' said absolutely nobody about my Fanged Four Co-Parent Connor post. And in response I say, but sir, they ate an entire orphanage. They have extensive experience with childcare. Just ask the Watcher's Council. I mean, maybe wait until they put the crossbows down and then ask.

[readsaboutreid]

Periods Suck | S.R.

this is inspired by lenaleechi on instagram's comic about hating periods as well as the gif above because it gives me mad baby fever so i guess this is season 4 softdom!spencer x gn!afab!bau!reader plus a blink and you'll miss it buffy the vampire slayer reference

content warning: breeding kink and period sex [i'm too stoned to think of any others but if you think of them please add them (kindly) in the replies and i'll add them in later :)]

this is smut, minors dni pls and thank you

"...fuck this, fuck everything and everyone, I am done, I quit," I ramble as I open the door to my apartment and kick off my dress shoes that were painfully squeezing my toes, just adding to my frustration. This case had been particularly mild compared to others but I couldn't help but be in a mood due to the littlest things done by the (admittedly innocent) local police officers. I was so relieved to finally go home and get to sleep in my own bed and curl up with a heating pad and my boyfriend with a Doctor Who marathon.

"Deep breaths, (y/n)," I hear from behind me in a soft, soothing tone as gentle hands come down to rub my shoulders from behind. I know he’s well aware what’s causing me to be in such a shitty mood. His pattern recognition skills are off the chart and while he never outright said anything to me about it he'd always be prepared with hot water bottles and chocolate when this time of the month rolled around. I turn around and bury my face into his chest with a sigh.

"I hate periods, Spencer. They suck," I whine with a sigh, my voice muffled by the knit fabric of his cardigan.

"I know, love," he sighs above me, resting his cheek on my forehead and wrapping his arms around me, "I'm sorry there's not more I could do to help."

"You're helping already," I sigh again, but this time out of contentment as we sway side to side in the entry way. "I wish there was a way I could just, like, stop having them," I mutter, my face returning to the soft fibers that I had come to find so comforting over the years.

Spencer's voice is muffled against my hair as he mutters, "That may be something I can assist you with." I don't even need to see his face to imagine the grin spread across it. Lately, he had been subtly expressing his desire for children, but after JJ gave birth to Henry, his hints have become more pressing. And technically, it was all because of me.

The night was a blur of celebration and drinks, as Emily and Garcia joined me in raising our glasses to toast the occasion. But as we were caught up in the joy of the moment, I couldn't help but let slip that after seeing the pure happiness on Spencer's face at the sight of his godchild a spark ignited within me, igniting a fierce case of baby fever that threatened to consume me entirely. Garcia, the horrible traitor that she is, had messaged a video of my confession to Spencer before I had even finished talking and before I knew it, my phone was buzzing with pictures from Spencer himself - tiny onesies and miniature sneakers - accompanied by words like, ‘just imagine a little genius of our own running around our home in this.’

Without changing his stance, he starts off on one of his typical Spencer Reid rants. "Did you know that scientific research has indicated that orgasms can alleviate menstrual cramps? It's due to the release of endorphins and muscular contractions which help relax the uterine lining," he explains with a slight hint of arousal in his tone, "not only does it address your discomfort, but it also takes care of your other request at the same time."

"We could start trying now, if you want," he suggests with a playful tone, though the subtle hint of desire in his voice sends a jolt of anticipation down my spine and settles between my thighs, igniting a fervent ache. Oh. Oh.

I finally turn my head to meet his gaze, and I am met with intense desire radiating from his eyes. His pupils are dilated, and he licks his lips before gently tracing a finger along my cheek and following up with a soft, "what do you think?"

I interrupt him by pulling his face towards mine, and our lips meet in a soft kiss. Suddenly, I'm pushed against the wall with the command to "jump," and my legs automatically wrap around Spencer as he lifts me up by my ass. Our lips met in a hungry yet tender kiss.

Our breaths come in ragged gasps as he pulls away to meet my gaze, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. I eagerly nod, my heart racing and anticipation building. Our lips collide once more, the heat between us intensifying as we lose ourselves in each other's embrace. The world fades into the background as our bodies meld together, consumed by desire. He sets me down and guides me to our bedroom by the hand, giggling slightly with excitement. I know he wants kids and we have discussed having them together in the future but the giddiness of the grown ass man in front of me ends up drawing a giggle from my own throat as well.

As we enter the bedroom, he stoops down to give me a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom. He grabs an old black towel I use for dyeing my hair and returns, laying it down on the bed and patting it lightly. He sends me sweet smile full of adoration as he whispers, "after you, my love."

I stumble towards the light switch and turn it off before making my way over to the bed. I take off my top and lay down, the darkness giving me a sense of privacy. Suddenly, I hear a soft sound from Spencer as he walks away. The lights flick back on, and he quickly closes the distance between us with just two steps. Before I can even cover myself up in the glare of the harsh light, he's already crawling on top of me.

"You're so gorgeous," he beams at me again before leaning in to kiss me gently, lowering his hips to rest between my legs as they wrap back around his hips instinctively as he begin peppering kisses all over my face and drawing endless laughs from my mouth, "I'm," kiss, "so," kiss, "lucky," kiss, "to," kiss, "have," kiss, "you."

He moves back, his lips leaving a trail of fire as they kiss and caress my skin. My jaw trembles under the soft brush of his lips, before he slowly trails kisses down to my throat. I can't help but let out a moan as his lips touch the sensitive skin there. His body presses against mine, the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pressing against my hypersensitive center. Every move, every touch, sends electric shivers through my body, igniting a primal desire within me.

My body aches with desire as I struggle to catch my breath. "Please remove your clothing now," I manage to say between deep, passionate kisses. Spencer eagerly strips down and helps me out of my own clothes before settling back between my legs. His arousal presses against the wetness between my thighs, adding to the intense heat building inside me.

"I've been craving this all week, sweetness," he mutters against my neck as he sucks feverishly at the skin, leaving love bites in his wake. "Craving you and your beautiful body." I have no idea how he managed to get me from wildly upset to wildly horny in such a short time, but instead of questioning it, I just let out a moan as I grind my hips against him, begging for his cock to enter me. He continues to tease me by rubbing the tip against my wet slit.

“P-please, Spence,” I whimper, unable to form a coherent sentence through the haze of lust I had become quickly lost within.

Spencer's eyes flicker with desire as he holds himself over me, his hands fisting the sheets on either side of my head. "Say it again," he growls, rubbing his erection against my aching center.

"P-please," I beg, my voice shaking with need.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

"As you wish," he murmurs before slowly sliding inside me. I gasp at the intense pleasure that washes over me, causing my body to arch off the bed and my nails to dig into his back. He begins to move in slow, deep thrusts, filling me completely and igniting a fire within me that threatens to consume every inch of my being.

As our bodies meld together in a blazing inferno, time itself seems to cease to exist. Every touch of Spencer's fingers sends shivers of ecstasy coursing through me, while each caress of his lips against mine ignites a fire within. Our movements are fluid and perfect, each one bringing us closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. I am consumed by an overwhelming sensation, my senses heightened to their limits as our passion reaches an almost unbearable intensity. It feels as though this moment could stretch on for eternity, and I never want it to end. In this single moment, there is nothing else but the all-consuming desire between us, and I give myself completely to it.

My heart pounds against my ribs as Spencer's gaze locks onto mine, his eyes filled with the same ferocity and desire that burns within me. He gives me a wicked grin, and I can feel my resolve crumble as the insatiable hunger consumes me. "You want to have my baby?" he gasps, and all I can respond with is a loud, whorish moan, entirely unable to form any words as his hips start to move ever so slightly faster.

He surges forward, his body fusing with mine in a wild, primal dance. Our movements become more frenzied, our bodies slamming together with the force of a thousand thunderstorms. My breath comes in short gasps as Spencer's relentless thrusts coax an orgasm out of me. My muscles tense, my hips bucking against him, seeking the sweet release from the intense pleasure building up inside of me.

Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word sends me higher and higher, my body arching and bucking beneath him in a frenzy of ecstasy.

Spencer's eyes are locked onto mine as he continues to drive into me, his gaze burning with an intensity that matches the fire inside us both. His hands grip my hips tightly, never losing rhythm as he thrusts into me and coaxes that sweet release from me. My body trembles and shakes with each surge, and I can feel the orgasm building, growing stronger and more intense with each passing second.

A low, guttural moan escapes from Spencer's lips as he picks up the pace, his movements becoming harder and faster. I can feel him growing more desperate, and I know that he's close to his own release.

The pleasurable ache between my legs intensifies, and I know that I'm about to reach that peak. I let out a helpless whimper as the pleasure was threatening to overtake me, and I feel as though I'm being pulled into a vortex of ecstasy. Time seems to stand still, and I'm lost in the moment, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

The bed creaks and groans with our passionate lovemaking, the sound echoing in my ears as I reach for the pinnacle of pleasure. Spencer's eyes are locked onto mine, and I see the same intensity in them that I feel in my own being. We're one, united in our desire for each other, and nothing else matters in this world.

His thrusts become harder and faster, the tip of his erection brushing against the most sensitive part of me with every stroke. The pleasure is overwhelming, and I can feel the orgasm building within me, growing stronger with each passing second. I cling to Spencer, my nails digging into his back as I beg him to take me over the edge.

“Gonna fill you up,(Y/N),” Spencer moans, “everyone will know who you belong to once you’re — oh fuck — carrying my fucking baby inside you.” His words send me falling over the edge and I can feel myself slipping away, my mind consumed by the intense pleasure reaching it's peak as my hips buck wildly.

Time seems to stand still as we reach the pinnacle of pleasure together. Our bodies move in perfect sync, every thrust, every caress, every whispered word fueling the fire that burns within us. The pleasure is all-consuming, coursing through my veins and reaching every cell in my body. I let out a series of orgasmic moans bordering on screams and Spencer smiles down at me wickedly, his eyes never leaving mine as his thrusts become harder and more disjointed as his own orgasm looms on the horizon. His moans grow louder and louder as the feeling of slight overstimulation makes me clench even tighter around his throbbing cock as he reaches his breaking point.

"Please, Spencer," I whisper, "make me yours, sir. P-please, please put a baby in me!"

Finally, with one last deep thrust, Spencer moans loudly and shudders above me, his body rigid as he loses himself in the pleasure of a release he had been building up to for what felt like an eternity. As Spencer's body shudders above mine, I can feel the warmth of his release filling me up, an earth-shattering feeling that takes my breath away. We lay there for a moment, our bodies still joined together, basking in the afterglow of our passion. Finally, with a contented sigh, Spencer pulls out of me and collapses onto the bed beside me.

I snap back to reality, my mind reeling from the intensity of our lovemaking. I can feel the stickiness between my legs, a reminder of the incredible moment we just shared. The room is still, the only sounds being our heavy breathing and the rhythmic beating of our hearts. I reach over to grab the bedside table, searching for a tissue to clean myself up.

"Spencer?" I say softly, my voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" he replies, still out of breath.

I flash him a saucy grin, "I think we'll have to make sure we keep trying this before my next period so I won't have to suffer through another one, for a while." I joked, while playfully poking his chest.

He chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, "I think that's a great idea, my love." I couldn't help but giggle at his response, feeling a burst of warmth spread through my body.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Two really good Buffy pairings that only exist in the tie-in books... because two of the characters that make up the pairings only exist in the tie-in books:

Giles/Micaela

Gunn/Faroe

[leneemusing]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER SENTENCE STARTERS pt. 1

❝ are you all very stoned? ❞

❝ god! what is your childhood trauma?! ❞

❝ i want to date, and shop, and hang out, and save the world from unspeakable evil. you know, girly stuff. ❞

❝ i know you'll never love me. ❞

❝ love isn't brains, children, it's blood. blood screaming inside you to work its will. ❞

❝ i know i'm a monster, but you treat me like a man. ❞

❝ you wanna go steal some stuff? ❞

❝ why is it always the virgin women who have to do the sacrificing? ❞

❝ i know what you're doing. you think if you get me mad enough i won't be so scared AND HEY, it's working! ❞

❝ i'm not exactly quaking in my stylish yet affordable boots here. ❞

❝ great, now I'm gonna be stuck with serious thoughts all day. ❞

 ❝ i may be love's bitch, but at least i'm man enough to admit it. ❞

❝ sorry, but i'm an old fashioned gal. i was raised to believe that men dig up the corpses and the women have the babies. ❞

❝ we saved the world. i say we party. ❞

❝ your mouth is open and sound is coming out. this is never good.. ❞

❝ i'm afraid we're having a slight apocalypse ❞

❝ demons after money. what ever happened to the still-beating heart of a virgin? no one has any standards anymore. ❞

❝ well, i'll just jump off that bridge when I come to it. ❞

❝ i believe the subtext here is rapidly becoming text. ❞

❝ i'm way off my game. my game's left the country. it's in cuernavaca.. ❞

❝ it's like talking to a wall. only you get more from a wall. ❞

❝ the hardest thing in this world… is to live in it.. ❞

❝ and you have the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone. ❞

❝ you know what, i was wrong. you are an idiot. ❞

❝ well, before i succumb to the ravages of old age, why don't you tell me what brings you here. ❞

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I feel like im literally swatting your inbox with cowboy angst since you asked so sorry but also not sorry.

I can see cowboy being one to NOT LIKE KEVIN when he's dating the beautiful penelope garcia. Garcia thinks it's possibly jealousy but also she thinks cowboy isn't capable of such a gross feeling. but the truth is cowboy just does. not. think. anybody. is. good. enough. for. penelope. garcia. point blank. He tries to be civil for her sake but when she's not around he grabs kevin by the wrist and informs him he'll twist him like a blade of grass if he dares disrespect his lady.

(just cowboy being very big!brother to garcia and protecting her at all costs).

-🦕

Hiya, I hope you like this! I'm so sorry it took so long! :)

Description: Cowboy is a little protective of Miss Penelope Garcia

Warnings: threats, threats of violence

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @chaosofmanyfandoms @logicalhorror @luvfornick @prmsn-17 @pinxeajin

"You're datin' Kevin?" Garcia nods and you turn to the others, "Who's Kevin?"

"I'm Kevin," He's not short, but not exactly tall with messy brown hair and glasses. You stare at him before you gaze flicks down to his extended hands and you shake it. You couldn't help but think that he looked suspiciously like Xander from Buffy the Vampire Slayer but quickly pushed that thought aside.

"Nice to meet you." You keep your voice even and when the handshake is over, Kevin winces slightly as he gently massages his hand.

Penelope turns to you with a glare, hitting you chest. "Can you not break my boyfriend's hand please?!"

You give her a sheepish smile, "Sorry Penny." When her back is turned, your smile drops and you raise an eyebrow at Kevin, analysing him. The expression is gone as soon as Penelope looks back at you and you smile.

"Good. Now, I am going to get a coffee, so you two- play nice." She said, although very pointed at you.

"I'll get it for you." Kevin offered with a smile.

"I'll join you."

As soon as you're on your own, you turn to him. "Listen here, you hurt her, you upset her, if you do anything that makes her feel even the slightest bit upset, I kill you." You say sternly, "Understand?"

Kevin gives a sharp nod. "Good. Let's get her that coffee." You give a sickly sweet smile before making your way to the breakroom.

A few weeks passed, with Kevin being around a lot more than you liked. You weren't sure what it was exactly, but he gave you the chills. Garcia had noticed your standoffish behaviour, but hadn't approached you about it.

Originally, she couldn't help but think that perhaps you were a little jealous of Kevin. Of course, this thought only lasted about two seconds before she realised that you were not one to be bogged down but such emotions. She brushed it to the side, deciding that if another incident happened, she'd then approach you about it.

A few months passed that were uneventful, until one morning when you knocked on the door to the Bat Cave, and Penelope opens the door in tears.

"Hey, hey, Princess, what's wrong?" Garcia doesn't answer, simply throwing herself into your arms as she sobs. You quickly guide her inside, shutting the door. "Hey, it's a'right, I'm here," You mumble, your heart breaking as the woman who had quickly become like your sister cried.

"I saw Kevin kissing someone else-"

You sat with Garcia for a few moments, until she calmed down. You leave with the promise to return with baked goods. And you were going to. Until you see Kevin walking down the hall with the audacity of existing.

You're not thinking straight, you know that. But he's a weasel and you want nothing more than to slam his head into a desk. So, naturally, when you see him, you instantly corner him.

"What did I say would happen if you hurt her?" You bite out.

"I- I- I can explain-"

"Yeah? You have ten seconds."

"I was drunk-"

"Oh, I guess that makes all the difference then." You responded sarcastically. "N your ten seconds are up."

You had every intention of doing at least a little bit of bodily harm, when Hotch walks around the corner, frown in place.

"(Y/N)." His voice is stern.

"Sir?" You turned to him, voice taking it's usual pitch as you turned to your boss.

"What's going on?"

"He cheated on Penelope."

"I was drunk-"

"You, don't speak." You pointed back at Kevin.

"Okay, (Y/N), you need to step out of the room." Hotch said, his voice stern.

You turn back to Hotch with a glare, "What? No."

"Take a walk." You stare at Hotch for a moment before sighing, leaving the room. As soon as you left the room, Garcia immediately approached you.

"Why do you have a face like thunder?" She asks, "What did you do?"

"Nothin' Hotch made me leave."

Garcia huffed. "I appreciate you, but I'm also mad."

"I'll bake you cookies?"

"Fine. I forgive you."

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Chapter 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited for you to read this fluffy, soft chapter between Joel and reader, I absolutely loved writing it 🥰 So much love between these two. Comments and reblogs always make my day, can’t wait to hear your thoughts ❤️

Chapter Summary: Joel throws reader the sweetest, most romantic birthday party and takes her to a rock concert

Word Count: 11.4k

Chapter tags: Oral receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v, sweet talk, love confessions, cute moments between Joel and reader, surprises

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the weekend before your birthday lazing around the house reading your romance books, strumming the pristine cords on your acoustic guitar, and binge watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A nostalgic show you could watch over and over again without ever getting bored. A weekend in is just what you needed.

It’s now Saturday evening, the warm sun slowly sinking behind dark clouds that threaten to pull it down as the moon takes its place, trading the fluffy clouds with clear skies and bright white stars. The air blows chilly breezes against your skin as you wrap the pink Nirvana hoodie closer to your body and cross your legs as you readjust the shimmering guitar in your arms.

You trace your fingers along the sparkly swirls and run them slowly over the glittering butterflies on the neck of the guitar. You can’t help but smile as you think of the handsome man that carved them with his own strong, calloused hands. Joel. You’re perfect, sweet man. You feel the butterflies flit through your stomach every time you think of him and his cute dimples that always pull at the edges of his cheeks when he’s really happy. And it’s always when he’s with you.

You smile at the thought of it, of him. You watch the sunset fade to purple and pink skies swirling into orange colors, then finally into darkness as the full moon shows its glow in the night sky. The back porch lights flick on as you focus on your guitar again.

You carefully strum along the cords, playing “Never Too Late” by Three Days Grace as you hear the melody carry through the wind, taking the song with it as it flows in the night sky gracefully. You get lost in the song, quietly humming along to the beat as your fingers slide along the cords. It was a song Joel taught you how to play, and it made it that much more special.

You’re so deep into the song that you don’t hear the sliding glass door open and close behind you until you hear his deep voice as he comes up behind you, stopping just inches from the fold out chair you’re sitting criss crossed on.

“Sounds good, baby,” he says quietly, his deep breath raising all the hairs on the back of your neck as you nearly jump at his presence.

“You think so?” you ask shyly as you look up at him, finding his lips curled up into a smile as a dimple forms deep into his cheek. The sight nearly takes your breath away. You love his soft smile, the way his brown eyes delve into yours as he always looks at you so deeply. Like he’s looking into the mere pits of your soul. It’s mesmerizing.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes out, his hands digging deep into the pockets of his dark washed jeans as his fingers strain to keep them there. He can’t touch you. Not right now, not when your father is right around the corner. But he wants to. God, he wants to. It takes everything in you not to reach out and take his hand in yours. You want to so badly. But you know one touch wouldn’t be enough. It’s never enough.

“Well, you can thank yourself for making me the little guitar player I am. I wouldn’t even know how to play if it wasn’t for you. So thank you… for giving me something I now love.” You blush up at him, and he runs a hand through his unruly curls, trying to get a hold on reality again before he caves and sweeps you up in his arms.

He wants to sit right behind you on that fold out chair, wants to wrap his arms around your hips and pull you flush to his chest as he lets his calloused fingers brush over yours. Let his lips trace the edge of your long, perfect neck as he trails them up and down, nipping at your jawline as he gets lost in your vanilla scent he clings to every time he’s around you. You drive him crazy with desire, but he does the same to you. The perfect match. Twin flames.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Always love giving you guitar lessons,” he smiles as you blush up at him, remembering how the last guitar lesson ended with you on top of his lap.

You shake your head clear of the steamy memories before you get yourself all worked up, changing the conversation casually. “So, having fun watching the football game with my dad?”

He gives you a small laugh as he nods his head, making one of his tousled curls fall down over his forehead. It takes everything in you not to push it back out of his face. “Yeah, the game’s alright. Kinda hard to concentrate when you’re so close though. Think I’d rather be hanging out with his pretty daughter instead,” he smirks, making his honey brown eyes glisten with golden flecks. He was always so pretty, so heavenly, so warm.

“Oh yeah? Is that so?” you smile, resting the guitar on your lap as you trail your fingers along the wooden edges lightly.

“Mhm,” he hums out, standing and staring at you in a dreamlike way. “You excited for the concert Saturday?”

“You know I am,” you say with enthusiasm, sitting up straighter in your chair as you bounce with energy inside.

“I am, too,” he says eagerly. He runs a hand through his tousled curls again and looks at you almost nervously before he asks his next question. “I know your birthday is Friday, and I don’t know if you have plans with your friends or anything, but if you don’t I was thinkin’ maybe you’d wanna spend the night? Sarah’s gonna be gone this weekend, and I figured maybe you’d want a quiet evening in? If not, that’s fine. Just thought I’d offer ‘cause I wanna make your day special. It’s fine if you have plans, but I just…”

You cut him off before he can finish his thought. “Joel, there’s nothing else I’d rather do than be with you. That sounds perfect,” you respond with a big smile plastered on your lips, trying your hardest not to get up and wrap your arms around his neck while you bury yourself in his woodsy scent you so love.

“Really?” he asks almost timidly, not believing you’d want to spend your birthday inside with him when you probably had friends begging to drag you out to some crappy bar.

“Really,” you confirm with the nod of your head and a shy smile splayed on your face.

“Okay. It’s a date then, birthday girl.” His smile reaches his brown doe eyes as they crinkle around the edges, making your heart beat faster by how pretty he is. He’s perfect, so so perfect.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, you clear your throat and interrupt the heavy glances that nearly pull you over the edge. “Well, guess you should get back in there. I’m sure my dad’s wondering where you are,” you sigh, eyes falling back down to your guitar as you fight to not reach out and pull him down with you. It’s getting harder to control your feelings around your parents. You can’t deny it. That’s why you’re not sitting in the living room with them. It’d be too hard to sit on the couch when all you wanted was to be curled up in his lap.

“Yeah, guess I should,” he says slowly, not wanting to go back in just yet.

Before he turns away, you call his name quietly as he turns back toward you. “Miss you,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the blowing wind outside, but he hears you clearly as you see his brown eyes soften.

“I’m right here, baby,” he says as he takes two steps forward, letting his legs meet the edge of the chair as you look up at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah… I do,” he whispers back quietly. He looks back toward the sliding glass doors, looking for any sign of your mom or dad. When he sees no one, he reaches a hand down and runs it through your thick hair slowly. You groan as his nails slide through your scalp, making you feel safe every time his hands are on you.

The next thing he’s doing is leaning down and softly kissing the top of your head slowly as he lets his lips linger there for a few seconds, probably too long. It feels good, always leaves you wanting more.

He stands back up and lets his fingers drop from your hair, stepping back as he smiles one more time at you. “I’ll see you later, baby. Keep practicing, alright? Love hearing you play.” With that, he disappears behind the glass door and leaves you alone with an aching feeling in your gut. You want him. You want him so bad that it hurts. But he’s yours, he’s yours.

You pick up your guitar again and start strumming along the cords, finishing the song you were playing before he came outside. The second you finish the song, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you dig it out and unlock it you see Joel’s name pop up on the screen.

Joel: Miss you more, pretty girl.

The message nearly sends you into overdrive as you stare at the screen, your lips curled into a huge grin as you read it over and over again. Joel Miller was so soft, so sweet, so tender. You’d never get enough of him. Never.

You slide your phone back into your pocket and strum lightly on the guitar again, only thinking of Joel and his thick, calloused fingers. Thinking of every sweet message he’d ever sent you before. And if your heart wasn’t bursting at the seams before, it was now.

Your parents take you out to Bartlett’s Thursday night for your birthday, the best steakhouse around Austin. You chew on a piece of fresh steak and let the sweet, savory flavors melt in your mouth with every small bite you take.

The restaurant is quiet tonight, only a few couples dwindling at circular tables nearby that chatter quietly amongst themselves. You take in the deep crimson tablecloths, the vase of white roses that sit in the middle of each table, the silverware that’s splayed out next to fine china plates, watch as the busy waiters take water and orders to each table every few minutes. It’s a fancy restaurant, not one you come to often, but it’s one of your favorites.

As you take another bite of the delicious steak, your mom sets down her glass of wine and smiles at you. “So, have any big plans this weekend?”

“Mhm. Might not really be home this weekend. Gonna go out with some of the girls tomorrow, and I have a concert on Saturday,” you reply as you take a sip of red wine, letting it slide down as the taste of cherry meets your tastebuds.

“Oh, who with?” she asks as she cuts into her chewy steak.

“Just a couple girls from class. You don’t know them.” You feel bad for lying, but what could you really say? That you were practically spending all weekend with Joel at his house, and he was taking you on the best date of your life? Yeah right.

“That’s too bad. You’ll have to bring them over to the house sometime,” she says as she adjusts the pearly white necklace that laces around her long neck, letting her dark hair sweep over her shoulders.

“Sure,” you say as you dig your spoon into the fluffy white mashed potatoes.

“What concert you seeing on Saturday?” your dad asks in between mouthfuls of French fries.

“Ghost,” you say nervously, knowing your dad will have something bad to say about the band.

“Oh, isn’t that the band where the singer always wears a mask and dresses in priest costumes and plays that glam rock trash?” he laughs as your mom elbows him in the side.

“Yeah, dad. They aren’t glam rock though. They’re just rock and they’re good.” You emphasize the word and roll your eyes as you place a hand over your thigh.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have fun,” he laughs. “Did you know Joel was going, too?” he asks as he looks over the table at you. You almost spit out your wine as you choke on the sweet taste in your throat.

“No, I didn’t,” you lie as you dig your nails into your knee, letting them bite at your skin just past the point of pain.

“Huh. Thought he might’ve mentioned it since you’re into those types of bands. I didn’t even know he liked them. Would’ve never guessed, but he does surprise me all the time,” he laughs as he leans back into his chair, patting his full stomach as he cleans off his plate fully.

“Did he say who he was going with?” you ask as you chew another bite of steak, this piece not hitting the spot as nerves run down your spine.

“Said he was going alone. Kinda surprises me. Figured he’d take a date or something. But the old man’s going alone. Maybe you’ll see him there?”

“Maybe,” you say quietly, trying not to crack a smile as you know he’s taking you to the concert. You’re his date.

“Has he been off lately to you?” he asks as he knits his dark eyebrows together and narrows his eyes like he’s deep in thought. “He’s just been busier lately. Seems a lot happier too. Something or someone has been taking his time,” he says carefully.

You feel your cheeks burn red and try to cool down with a big gulp of ice water as you focus on not getting all worked up. “Oh, really? I guess I haven’t noticed then,” you say casually, not displaying much interest as you rut your black heels into the polished floor.

“Just is strange is all. He keeps turning down your mom’s friends, and I keep trying to get him to go out with Alexa, but he won’t budge at all. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him, but he must be seeing someone,” he stammers out as he crosses his arms over his button-up white shirt.

“Maybe he just enjoys being single. Maybe doesn’t want to deal with dating?” You cock your eyebrow up at him and take another sip of water slowly, letting the icy goodness stop the burn in your throat.

You want to shout it, scream it across the entire restaurant that Joel Miller is yours. He doesn’t want other women because he wants you and you alone. That’s what you want to say to your dad, tell him to stop pushing women onto him because he’s yours. But you can’t. You don’t know if you ever could…

“Mmm. Maybe. But something is definitely up, and I’m gonna find out one of these days,” he promises.

Maybe he’d find out one day, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. Not if you could help it.

Friday night you pack a bag and drive over to Joel’s, nerves pulling through you as you don’t know what all he has planned for you. You said you wanted a quiet evening in since tomorrow would be a busy, full day of fun. You know Joel’s full of surprises though. He was always doing things you wouldn’t expect of him. He kept you on your toes constantly.

As you park your SUV in the driveway next to his Chevy and climb out with your bag around your shoulder, you pull the pink dress over your thighs and hug the black jacket around the chill of the cool evening. When you climb up his porch and knock gently on the door, you wait till you hear his name echo through the house.

“C’mon in. Just finishing somethin’ up real quick,” he yells as his deep voice vibrates through the door. You twist the knob and head inside, dropping your purple bag in the entryway as you close the door and twist the lock tight. “In the kitchen,” he calls as you pull off your jacket and hang it on the brown coat rack that hangs by the door.

You smile as you make your way down the dimly lit hall as your white slip on Converse slide over the dark wood easily. You wonder what he’s up to and why he didn’t greet you at the door.

What is that man up to?

When you push past the long hallway and enter into the dim light open kitchen, you freeze in place. Joel stands against the marble countertop with a single red rose in his hand, twirling it between his fingertips as he smiles over at you gently. His brown eyes are warm, and they crinkle around the edges as the lines on his forehead raise when he lifts an eyebrow excitedly.

You gawk at him as you take in the surroundings of the kitchen. There on the center of the counter is a frosted cake that looks like he made it from scratch. Birthday candles glow in the soft lighting as they sparkle as the flame dwindles back and forth. A bouquet of red roses sit behind it with a black bow tied against the glass vase. And on the stove sits shrimp Alfredo and cheesy mashed potatoes, your favorite meal ever. But that’s not all. No. There’s also a small pink package with your name written on with the words happy birthday, angel scribbled on the side.

“Joel…” you whisper out, completely in a daze as your heart pulls in your throat. There’s no words for any of this. No words for how good he is to you.

His lips curl up into a shy smile as he hands the single rose to you, letting his fingers trace against yours as you take the flower from him and grab onto his soft grey t-shirt under his rolled up green flannel. “Happy birthday, baby,” he says as he leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean into him and dig your fingers against his cotton shirt, letting yourself take in his rich mahogany and woodsy scent. Wanting to breathe in every part of him as you fall apart all over him.

He drops his lips from yours and takes a step back, his calloused fingers curling around yours as he leans against the counter effortlessly. “Make a wish and blow out the candles, baby,” he smiles as you turn to face the lit up candles on the frosted birthday cake.

You take in the glow of the tall candles and blow gently, watching as the fire turns to smoke as the room fills with the scent of blown out smoky candles. You fan away the lingering smoke and face back toward him, laughing as you go.

He rubs his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand and looks into your eyes intensely. “So, what’d ya wish for?” he asks with a smug smirk on his face.

“I already have my wish. It’s you,” you say choked up, eyes glistening into his as your whole heart swells with warmth.

“Oh, is that right?” he asks as he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you flush to his broad chest, making you giggle in response.

“Mhm, that’s right,” you say shyly.

“Well, then. Looks like we think the same. ‘Cause I’ve been wishin’ for you for a long time.” He tucks a loose curl behind your ear and pulls you in. “C’mere.” He presses his lips against yours as you drink him in, parting your lips to allow him to slot his tongue inside. You embrace his warmth, devour his coffee taste, ravish all of him as you’re tied to him like a strong rope around an anchor. He’s yours. He’s yours.

When he breaks apart his lips from yours, he holds you close to him, not letting you out of his strong grip. Your eyes slide down to the cake with white frosting spread all around the top, some spilling over the corners. You look at it closely, see the way it was so carefully made by hand. And then it dawns on you. He made it.

“So, about the cake. Did you make it?” you ask as your glowing eyes trace up to his, a warm smile growing on his face.

“Mhm. Took me a little bit to get just right, but I think I did pretty good. Strawberry cake with vanilla icing on top. That’s your favorite, right?”

Your eyes widen at the realization. No one had ever made you a cake before that was homemade. And he was so careful to pick out what you liked and what was your favorite things. He was quite literally a slice of heaven. Mere perfection in your eyes.

“Yeah, that’s my favorite. Joel… thank you. That was so sweet. You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me,” you say shaking your head, laughing at how stupid you must look for getting emotional over a cake. But it wasn’t just that. It was the effort he always put into you, the way he always cared and tried for you. He showed you every single day how much he wanted you, and it nearly brought you to your knees every second that you were his.

“‘Course I did, darlin’. It’s your birthday, your special day. The day you turn twenty-six. I wanted it to be extra special. Wanted to do all the things that make you happy.”

You hook your arms around his neck and smile softly up at him. “You make me happy, Joel Miller. You. Just you breathing and being in my space is enough to make me happy.”

He tics his jaw, and you can see warmth flood his honeysuckle eyes. The crows feet pulling at the edges of his brown eyes the wider he smiles. It’s absolutely mesmerizing. “That’s you, sweet girl. You make me happy.”

He lowers his lips back down to yours as you envelop his syrupy taste and smell, feel every single muscle in your body burn for him. This is what happiness was supposed to feel like, and you found it with Joel. Joel was your happiness.

After a few minutes of making out against the marble counter, you find yourself sitting across from him at the table eating shrimp Alfredo, cheesy mashed potatoes, and seasoned vegetables. It’s delicious, every single bite tasting savory and sensational against your salivating tastebuds.

You take in the mood lighting of the citrus candles, see the two red heart balloons tied to the back of a wooden chair, hear the low hum of a Metallica album playing in the living room. It’s quiet, peaceful, perfect with just the two of you. You couldn’t have asked for a better birthday than this with the sweetest boyfriend your heart could’ve ever desired. He had you hooked like a baited fish, ready to be reeled in at any moment.

“This is delicious. I didn’t know you were such a great cook,” you smile as you take another bite of your creamy Alfredo noodles.

“M’glad you like it. I don’t cook a ton, but when I do I actually kinda enjoy it. It’s sorta relaxing if that makes any sense.”

He takes a bite of his mashed potatoes and keeps his eyes on you, a faint smile curling up on the edge of his big lips. “I get it. It can be fun. Especially if it involves sweets.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head. “‘Course. You always were such a sweet tooth. Weren’t ya?” he asks with a wink, making you blush with the way he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you whole. He makes you frazzled all the time, and you don’t think that would ever go away.

“Speaking of sweet things. You ready for some cake?”

“Oh, I’m so ready,” you smile.

He laughs and rises from his chair, pulling you up by your arm as he takes you over to the counter and cuts you a big piece of cake. He lays it on a white plate, and you see just how pink and delicious it looks as the creamy frosting covers every inch of the square. Before you can take a bite, Joel swipes his index finger into the frosted icing and smears it across your cheek.

Your eyes grow wide and your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Joel!” you whine as you try to brush it off your skin. Joel grabs your wrist carefully before you can clean it off yourself.

“Oops. Was an accident,” he smiles mischievously as a devilish smirk curls around the edges of his lips.

“Haha very funny,” you chime out as you roll your eyes. “Now clean up the mess you made, Mr. jokester.”

He fully obliges as he pulls you to his broad chest and moves your hair to the side. “I planned on it,” he smirks. He flattens his warm tongue against your cheek and laps up all the frosting, making sure he goes slow, gets every speck as something pulls deep in your stomach. You shouldn’t be this turned on by him cleaning off the mess he made, but you are. So turned on.

“It’s good, baby. So sweet,” he purrs, a full smirk encased over his lips as he stares you down with those dreamy chocolate eyes of his.

“Didn’t even let me have the first taste,” you pout, jutting your bottom lip out as he smiles in return.

“I’m sorry, baby. Here. Have a taste.” He hooks his thick thumb into the icing again and brings it to your cherry coated lips. “Open up, darlin’.”

You fully oblige, opening your mouth just wide enough for him to slide his thumb in. You lick his finger clean, letting the vanilla goodness run down your throat as you hold tight to his wrist. You give him another long lick, this one just for show and watch him burn with desire.

His pupils can’t decide what to do. They grow wider, blowing out as darkness takes over. The once honey colored eyes grow into dark, deep chocolate eyes that want to devour you whole. He’s as turned on as you now, his breathing picking up as his nostrils flare out. “Taste good?” he asks as his large hands cover the sides of your hips, digging his nails into you for good measure.

“So good,” you purr.

He backs you up slowly to the edge of the counter, his finger digging back into your piece of cake as he takes a chunk of pasty frosting and paints it all over your inner thigh. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He drags out the words with a pathetic apology as he bends down and wraps his hand around your ankle, sliding his tongue up your thigh as he nibbles at the frosting, lazing his tongue up and down like he’s licking a cold popsicle on a warm summer day.

You dig your hands into the cool marble, sinking your nails in deep as you try to hold in a moan. He’s doing this on purpose, but you don’t mind. You want him to keep going. “Joel,” you whine out as you feel your panties start to grow wet under your blooming arousal. “What are you… oh.” Your words cut off as he trails higher, nipping just inches below your short pink dress.

Fuck, he loves to tease you. He’s getting you all worked up, wanting you nice and wet for him. He knows how to get you there, too. He’s too damn smooth with his moves. He could get you off by just the sound of his melodic, deep voice. Could make you cum by just blowing sweet whispered incantations in your ear.

“Wanted something even sweeter to eat and that would be you, darlin’.”

He hoists you up on the counter, bare legs hanging down as he stands up slowly, arms hooking around your waist and sliding you forward to the edge. Your breath gets caught in your throat as your cheeks burn hot. You feel flushed, turned on, excited. He was going to make you cum hard, you just knew it.

“You look so beautiful in that pink dress, baby. Did I tell you that yet?” he asks tenderly as he slides his hands up your short skirt, one hand ghosting across your slick center as you breathe out a flustered breath.

“No, I don’t think so,” you gulp as his thumb brushes over your clothed folds, elating a gasp as he breezes past the edge of your needy clit. You whine between your teeth as he drops his thumb.

“You’re always so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart,” he growls, teasing his other hand across the waistband of your panties.

“Mhm. You always make me wet,” you moan, begging him to put his fingers on you again. He gets the point from your pleading eyes and your labored breathing, stepping into you as he pushes your thighs further apart as his large body crowds your space.

“Hips up for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely, and you generously obey.

As you lift your hips, he pulls the soaked black lace down your legs, dropping them to the floor as he lifts your skirt up all the way, leaving your pussy on full display for him to feast on with his eyes. His eyes go pitch black, pupils blown out as he licks his bottom lip seductively. It makes you want him even more as you watch the flames in his eyes dance for you.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby. Soakin’ wet for me. Goddamn,” he says with a lust filled haze in his voice. He trails his fingers up your inner thigh, brushes over your center and spreads your folds wide as he sinks his calloused thumb down on you, slowly circling your puffy clit meticulously.

“Joel,” you moan, bucking your hips up as your body screams in pleasure. More, more, more.

“Oh, you like that do you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, a smirk pressed hard on the edge of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum out, unable to respond with words right now.

“Well, think you’ll like what I’m gonna do next,” he smirks.

He drops to his knees before you, hooking your legs over his broad shoulders as he gently kisses up your ankle, past your knees, up your inner thighs tenderly and then stops before he gets to your center where you need him most.

He glances up at you, a pure vision as his pupils blow out wide and his tousled curls drop down on his forehead slightly. He looks so damn handsome, so ravenous as he stares up at you with that heated look in his smoldering eyes. He wants to eat you alive, and you’ll let him.

“Birthday girls deserve to cum,” he smirks, half-hooded eyes staring up at you. “And I’m gonna make you cum hard, baby,” he growls.

Before you can respond, his mouth is on you in a flash. He licks a thick, generous stripe up your folds and groans at the first taste of you. You arch your back against the counter as he spreads your folds and draws slow, meticulous circles over your throbbing clit.

You moan out his name and dig your fingers into his tousled curls, eliciting a deep groan out of Joel’s chest as your fingers deepen in his hair. His tongue is so experienced, so impressive as he devours you, leaving you completely breathless every time he sucks and pulls your throbbing bundle of nerves into his giving mouth.

He moves two fingers inside of your dripping hole, slowly pumping his fingers deep inside you as you swear you feel him hit the back of your walls over and over again. You moan his name out loudly as he hooks his thick fingers up, hitting that deep spongy spot that makes you tighten your ankles around the back of his neck.

“You like that, don’t ya, baby?” he coos, lust blown eyes staring up at you from the dark wooden floor.

“Yes, ahhh,” you say in a breathy moan, voice getting higher pitched the more he ruts up into you. Your walls flutter around him the deeper he goes. You’re so close that you can taste the desire to cum on the back of your tongue, fingers twisting around his curls as you beg him to lick you up and down again.

“What do ya want, angel? Use your words,” he coos gently as he continues to pulverize your insides again and again.

“Want your…. want your tongue on me,” you whine, biting your lip as you feel more slick run down your thigh.

“Can you say please, baby? Say it. I wanna hear it…” he purrs, black eyes trained on you. “I love when you beg.”

“Pleaseeeee, Joel,” you beg hoarsely.

“Good girl,” he growls. He dives his tongue back into you, moving it up and down as he tastes you, torments you into oblivion. He tugs at your swollen clit, moaning every time he pulls you into his mouth, savoring your sweet flavor on his delicious tongue.

He loves eating you out, loves making you feel good, loves to make you cum as he feasts on you. You’re his favorite meal of the day he always tells you. He could eat you up every second of every day if he could. He loves it, craves it, needs it. Needs you.

He pumps his fingers faster, swirls his tongue languidly over your clit, and you’re right on the edge. You feel the warm rush start in your spine, slowly easing over your stomach and pelvis, warming your insides as you clench up around his fingers. You claw at his hair, feel your eyes start to roll in the back of your skull as white noise rushes through your ears.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me. Yeah. There ya go. Let me see you spill for me,” he growls, pulling your tingling bundle of nerves into his mouth, and it sends you over the edge one last time.

You tighten up against his fingers and feel yourself wash over him with warm slick that doesn’t seem to stop. He groans as he licks up the mess between your legs, laps at every crevice of your center as he licks and licks until there’s nothing left except your oversensitive clit and sated feeling.

You collapse back onto your elbows as you watch him slide your panties back into place, see him stand up tall over you as your slick coats his patchy beard, glistening over his dark mustache. He’s so beautiful, so fucking perfect. And he’s yours. He’s yours.

He places his large hands around your waist and scoots you to the edge, gently lowering you down to the ground as he braces you against his firm chest. Your legs shake underneath you, but he holds you up to where you can’t fall.

“Whoa, easy there. Think I did a number on your legs,” he laughs as he trails his hand up and down your lower back, soothing you from the intense orgasm he just gave you.

“You can say that,” you laugh as you lean your head into his soft flannel, eyes looking up at him as you see the soft glow of your slick on his beard. It nearly sends you falling to the floor.

“You gonna make it upstairs tonight?” he asks with an amused look on his face as his honey eyes seep into yours affectionately.

“Gonna have to carry me.”

“That can be arranged,” he smirks.

He picks you up and cradles you bridal style as you wrap your arms around his neck, laughing carefree as he takes you up the stairs and places you into his bed, leaving room for him to slide in beside you. When he finds a comfortable spot on his back, he pulls you into his arms as you lay your head on his chest and wrap an arm around his side.

“This is nice,” you say quietly as he takes his hand and entwines his fingers with yours, knotting them together like a ball of yarn as you get lost in his calloused touch. He slides his thumb over the back of your hand, gently caressing you with nothing but care in his touch. The feeling is soothing, relaxing, delicate. You crave his touch like you crave caffeine, the feeling euphoric and addicting.

“Mhm. Love havin’ you here with me, baby. Feels empty when you’re not,” he says honestly as he takes his right hand and rakes it through your hair gently, lulling you into a calm, sated state.

“Yeah? You miss me when I’m not here?” you ask, shifting your weight to lift your chin and look up at him behind your long lashes.

“All the time,” he breathes, a still gaze focused on you as his calm eyes drag over you slowly. Your heart aches in your chest, a longing burn carrying through your body as you sit and stare at the man that sets your soul on fire. You ache for him, burn for him, mourn when he isn’t around. Two souls on fire for the other. A perfect match made in heaven. Joel was your saving grace, your way to heaven. You think he’d always be.

You raise up and settle onto his chest, brushing your lips over his as you savor his taste, still tasting the frosting from minutes before of the cake you still haven’t fully tasted. That could wait. Right now you wanted Joel.

“You miss me even now?” you tease, nose brushing over his as he smiles warmly up at you.

“Yes,” he murmurs, putting his hands behind your hips as he hugs you to his chest.

“Me too,” you reply, lips hovering just over his.

“I’m right here, baby. Not goin’ anywhere.” He pulls your head down to his as his lips crash into yours, feeling as if you were just splashed with a refreshing rush of water. You sink down into him, your hands running wildly through his tousled curls as his tongue dances along with yours. It’s slow, hot, possessive as he invades your mouth with his sweet taste that makes you weak at the knees.

You don’t know how long you’re there for, don’t know how you go from being fully clothed to completely naked as your bodies toss and turn passionately in the dark blue sheets. Your mind is a blur as your legs go over his shoulders, his thick cock driving into you over and over again as slick covers his entire length.

It feels like your whole body is on fire, center sated as he pumps you full of himself, emptying his spend in you as you both moan and whine as the orgasms wash over you like a blanket of bliss.

He pulls you back into his chest, breath ragged as you both come down from your orgasms. The room is hot, smelling of thick arousal and sex. It smells like him, the man you’re absolutely crazy about. It puts you at complete ease as you start to drift off to sleep on his chest with his thick fingers running through your hair.

You don’t remember falling asleep, it doesn’t take long till you’re under a blanket of darkness, but you’re not alone. Joel’s here with you. Easing you and lulling you into a blissful night’s sleep as you wrap yourself in his mahogany scent. This is where you belong, where you’ll choose to stay. This is it. This is home. He is home.

The next day is absolutely perfect. Joel gives you the best morning sex or your life and cooks you breakfast right after you shower together. Blueberry pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and leftover cake that melts like cotton candy in your mouth. You swear you’ve never tasted something as sweet and delicious before except for maybe him.

He picks up your favorite ice cream, strawberry, and then spends the day walking around hand in hand with you at Mayfield Park and Nature Preserve. One of your favorite places to relax and clear your mind. But you don’t have to clear your mind today, you get to relish in the fact that your favorite person in the entire world is at your side and trailing his calloused thumb up and down the back of your hand slowly, intimately. And it’s probably the best birthday weekend you’ve ever had in your life. Not even your sweet sixteen could top this one. Not when you have Joel.

You stay there till it’s time to get ready for the concert. You let the open windows of his revved up Chevy blow through your locks, let your arm hang out the window as you take in the cool breeze of November, soaking up the Texas sun as it warms the back of your arm. He lays his hand over your thigh and rubs slow circles over the material of your faded blue jeans. It’s so easy with him. Everything is easy with him. And you just know he’s the one you’re supposed to be with. He’s the one you were meant to find. Your everything…

In the next hour, you’re standing in his bedroom and assessing the outfit you picked to wear tonight. Your hands fall over the tight black leather skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles as you turn in a circle and make sure everything is intact. The sparkly lace sleeveless tank top fits you perfectly, and the white slip-on Converse just adds to the outfit. You feel hot, ready to enjoy a night of good music and even better company.

You generously apply some shiny pink lip gloss to your moisturized lips and draw sharp cat eyes with your liquid eyeliner over your sparkly, smokey eyeshadow. As you smooth out your wavy curls, you hear a low whistle come from the corner of the room and hear his drawn out deep voice come out like a dream.

“You look so good, baby. Absolutely breathtaking,” he says with a hum to his voice that comes off like a lilt, a voice you could listen to all day long on repeat.

You smile and roll your eyes nonchalantly, turning towards him and freeze when you take in just what he’s wearing. He leans up against the doorway of the bathroom, his right arm flexing against the rolled up red flannel that fights against his bulging biceps. His veins run thickly down his arms, whispering tempting thoughts into your ears to go sink into them.

His hair is slicked back, tousled curls held down by the gel that glues them in place. His flannel is left open, a dark Metallica shirt clinging to his broad chest. His dark blue jeans press firmly to his toned thighs, and when your eyes skate down his long legs you gasp at the shoes he wears. White Chuck Taylor All Star Converse sit laced against his feet, pulling the whole outfit together perfectly.

Your jaw drops to the floor at how ridiculously good he looks. He’s not just good looking, he’s so hot. The hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. And the white Converse? You’d never seen him wear any before. He was always in his worn, leather work boots. Not today, though. Today he wore Converse. Today was something new.

“What?” he asks with knitted brows pulled together, bringing his arm down from the doorway as he crosses his arms together, making the flannel pull tight around big arms. “Do I look funny or something? I can change if…”

“No!” you shout, cutting off his sentence as he looks at you surprised. “You look good, Joel. So good like wow. How the fuck are you so hot?”

He chuckles as he sticks his big hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You think I look hot?” he asks in an amused tone, his lips curling up into a big grin as a dimple forms against his cheek.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Yes,” you say while nodding your head fervently. “And the Converse? I’ve never seen you wear anything like that,” you say with shock rolling off your tongue, still amazed at what you were seeing.

“Oh, these?” he asks as he kicks one foot out, scoffing against the grey carpet. “Sarah helped me pick them out at the mall. I told her I was taking you to a rock concert, and she helped me look for some kinda like yours. Said she thought they were perfect, so I went with ‘em. Wanted to match with my girl,” he blushes as he runs a hand through his slick curls nervously.

You’re speechless, left lock jawed and trying not to get emotional. But the effort he put into picking out the right shoes, the way he wanted to match you? Well, that in itself was enough to start a fire in your heart.

“Joel Miller,” you say incredibly as you walk up to him and throw your arms around his neck, his own arms circling your hips as he pulls you into his chest, “you are the sweetest, most kind boyfriend I’ve ever had. You really went shopping for new shoes just for me? To match me?”

“Mhm,” he hums out, “wanted to make a good impression for a certain beautiful girl who’s way out of my league,” he teases as a small chuckle leaves his lips, his fingers digging into the leather of your skirt.

You laugh as you cup your hands together behind his neck, feeling his hair tickle the insides of your wrists. “Out of my league, huh?” you ask curiously, cocking your eyebrow up as you tread dangerously close to the edge of his smooth lips.

“That’s right. What’s a young, beautiful thing like you want with a forty-seven year old single father like me?” he laughs, a hint of insecurity shuttering on the tip of his tongue as his caramel eyes swirl in your vision.

You take the tip of your index finger and place it on his bottom lip, silently putting all his insecurities to sleep. “Everything,” you manage to say aloud.

You drop your finger and grab his soft t-shirt, pulling his lips down to yours as you both get lost in the cosmic kiss that sets your soul on fire. You take in his masculine, rich cologne scent and entangle yourself in his tousled curls, getting drawn into all of him as he pulls you tighter against him, lingering his lips on yours as he pulls at your bottom lip and slowly disconnects from your mouth. You groan at the loss of him.

“Should probably head out,” he says raggedly as he catches his breath. You nod in agreement.

“Yeah, guess we should.”

He takes your hand in his firm grip and leads you out of his room and down the stairs to his parked Chevy in the driveway, making sure he opens your door as you climb into the comfy seat of his truck. When he starts up the truck and latches his seatbelt into the buckle, he places his hand on the top of your knee and draws slow circles as you melt into his warm, calloused touch.

You’d go anywhere with him, let him drive all night long with the wind in your hair and his hand running up and down your thigh slowly as you look at his perfect side profile with his lips curled up in a delicious smile that sets your soul on fire. This is where you wanted to be, where you always wanted to be.

The concert venue is packed as you walk through the glass doors and hand over your shiny tickets for the attendant to scan you in. As you step through the doorway, you see the various colorful guitars line the walls, see packs of people walking left and right trying to navigate their way around the venue. The smell of beer and popcorn fill the air, mixed perfumes getting lost in the crowd as you move through the sea of people.

You make your way down the concrete steps and walk into the general admission area, finding a place right in the middle as Joel’s hand doesn’t stray away from your interlocked fingers. The sound of Blink-182 hums through the speakers as various types of people sing to the words.

You look up at Joel and see his eyes scanning the stage at the setup of the band equipment, shifting his weight from side to side to the beat of the song. You know he doesn’t know this band, but you’ll amuse him anyways.

“Do you even know who this band is?” you laugh as you look at his pearlescent teeth shining just underneath his parted lips.

“Ummm, Fall Out Boy?” he asks with his eyebrows knitted together and a line of wrinkles mapping all along his forehead. You stifle out a chuckle as you shake your head.

“No, close. Blink-182,” you smile, laughing with him as he runs a nervous hand through his slicked back curls.

“Ahh. Was close,” he chuckles. “You’re gonna have to give me a lesson on all these bands you like. I can’t keep up.”

“Only if you show me more of the music you love. I’m not as familiar with older rock bands from the 70’s-80’s. Except maybe a few,” you say as you lean into his arm, resting your head on his shoulder as he hums out an idea.

“I will, but maybe I can just take you to some shows? Like Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Guns N’ Roses?” he asks as his honeysuckle eyes linger on yours, making a shiver run down your spine in the heat of his stare.

You flutter your eyelashes up at him as you part your lips, tasting happiness and contentment on the tip of your tongue. “I would love to, Joel. I’ll go to any concert you want, will go anywhere you want. As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters.”

A warm smile fills his face, his honey eyes lighting up like fireworks as the crow’s feet pull tight at the sides. He looks like magic with the dimly lit colorful lights floating above him, painting the room shades of red and warm colors as his smile reflects off the illumination of the large arena. And you can’t help but feel that deep ache pull in your gut. Tugging at your heartstrings as he reaches inside your chest, entwining his own strings with yours as you become completely tangled together. One beating heart that burns for the other. Irrevocable, bound. A clear picture of two souls completely enamored with the other. Just like a spreading fire, burning shades of amber and orange that coat your insides with pure bliss. Wildfire.

Just as you get lost in his amber eyes, the lights go down and Breaking Benjamin takes the stage as the entire crowd erupts into screams of excitement. You break eye contact and draw your eyes to the now lit up stage as the lead singer yells to ask how everyone is doing tonight. More screaming erupts and then they start up playing “Breath”, one of their more popular songs.

Joel pulls you into his broad chest as his arms snake around your waist, holding you close through their whole performance. You sway your hips, sing along to every song, and even Joel nods his head to the beat.

He surprises you when you hear him quietly singing parts of “Angels Fall”, one of your favorites that you’ve probably played for him hundreds of times. But it warms your heart to know he’s grown to like this band, a band which you’ve loved since you could remember. And you can’t help but look up from the corner of your eye and watch the way he stays transfixed on the stage, paying attention to every detail of the guitarist’s hands as they strum along the stage. You could see him up there, shredding on the electric guitar. A sight you’d pay anything to see.

He catches you looking up at him, and he smiles gently as he pulls his lips down, down, down until he’s placing a gentle kiss on your temple. You lean into him, taking in every single moment of this night with your dreamy date. You can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather spend this night than with him.

When they finish their last song and clear the stage, the lights come back up and the sea of crowd parts like the Red Sea, opening up the pit as people flock to go get drinks and merch up the stairs. You turn around to Joel stretching his back, a slight wince in his furrowed eyebrows as you hear him pop his back and neck.

“You alright?” you ask as you reach a hand out to rub at his lower back.

“Mhm. Just didn’t realize I’d be so stiff standing at a concert. My knees are killing me,” he whines with the huff of his warm breath.

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything to help?” you ask as you run your hand up his thick, veiny arm in a calming aura. Joel catches your wrist and brings it back down to his side to lace his fingers in between yours.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, angel. Don’t worry about me. Just gettin’ old is all,” he says with a deep chuckle as it radiates through your chest.

“You’re not old,” you laugh as you smack him lightly against his arm.

“Oh, yes I am,” he fires back.

“Whatever,” you say with an eye roll that makes him laugh even more.

“Next time we’ll get seats. How ‘bout that?” he asks with a charming smile spread taut across his mouth. It sends butterflies through your lower regions.

“Deal,” you nod as you spill up at him.

Next time. The words give you life, make you tingle with warmth as the words make a silent promise that there will be a next time. This thing you have together isn’t just temporary. It means he wants you. He wants you. And you want him. Forever and always. You never want to let him go. Never.

It doesn’t take long until Ghost comes out on stage, lighting up the venue with flashing bright lights and visuals that give off a party vibe. Tobias is dressed in a fitted black suit with his black hair slicked back and his skeleton looking mask stuck to his face. He’s handsome, making all the girls swoon as he flirts with the audience and starts off the show with “Spillways” blaring through the speakers.

The crowd sways and jumps, singing out all the lyrics as you hear men and women scream every time the guitarists gesture their hands in the audience’s direction. You feel Joel behind you nodding his head to the beat, feel his foot tap along to the cords of the guitar that echo through the arena. He’s enjoying himself, having fun. You can’t help but feel a little dizzy that you’re actually here with him. That he liked you so much that he’d get out of his comfort zone and take you to see a band he slowly warmed up to. And he ended up liking these guys, you just couldn’t believe it.

During the middle of the show, “Dance Macabre” starts to play and you spin around fast as Joel laces his hands into yours eagerly. It’s your song, the one you and Joel always turn up loud when it plays in his truck. Our song.

There’s a sting in the way you kiss me.

Something within your eyes said it could be the last time before it’s over.

Joel spins you in a circle and pulls you against his chest, slow dancing with you in a circle as you both laugh and chant out the lyrics together.

Just want to be, want to bewitch you in the moonlight.

Just want to be, want to bewitch you all night.

The lyrics hit you like a tsunami, Joel had bewitched you. He won you over heart and soul. Every single part of him you desired, burned for.

As you continue to dance and sing the lyrics to each other, the world seems to fade away. It’s almost like everyone else in the room disappears, fades into the black. You can only hear Joel’s melodic voice carrying through your ears as you sink deeper into him. His warm, deep brown eyes only look at you, and they shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them glow before.

You can’t break away from his gaze, can’t wipe the ridiculous grin you have plastered on your face, can’t stop singing the enchanting lyrics with him as he spins you around once more, latching his arms around your waist as he pulls you in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, stand on your tiptoes to ghost your lips over his as he brings his forehead down onto yours, resting it there as he stares deep into your eyes. It’s just you and him, floating off on your own island that was made just for you as the music carries through your ears.

This feels different, so intimate, so special. It’s as if the universe and all the stars aligned together to put you and Joel in this place and time together. Like nothing else matters in the world. It’s just you and him dancing, singing the lyrics together, and getting lost in each other's eyes. It’s absolute magic, magnetic, euphoric. And you swear you see forever in his eyes.

When the song ends he pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss, not caring about who might see. He doesn’t care about anything other than you in this moment of time, doesn’t want to ever let this moment go. Because it means the world to him. You mean the world to him.

When you turn back towards the stage and Joel wraps his arms back around your waist, you pull your iPhone out and open up the camera. You want to remember this moment forever, want to keep it locked safe in your memories so you can look back months later and remember one of the happiest nights of your life.

“Take a picture with me?” you ask shyly as you hold your phone up.

“What, the prettiest girl wants to take a picture with me? I’m flattered, sweetheart. Gonna make me look bad though,” he smiles as he blows gently against your ear, nipping your earlobe as you drown in his sweet smelling cologne.

“I could never make you look bad, Joel Miller,” you laugh.

You angle the phone just right where you’re both looking into the camera, his face resting beside your cheek as he smiles devastatingly handsome into the lense. You snap a picture and then another, but then he’s changing positions and giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

You snap another picture of him like that, looking nothing but love struck for each other. Then you turn around and plant your lips on his as he holds you tight by the waist. You capture the moment, snapping a couple shots as your lips linger over his. These would be some of the best memories of tonight, something you could print off and put in a picture frame. Your favorite keepsake of them all, and that was Joel Miller.

You drag your tired legs outside the concert venue, dreading the long walk back to the truck. It’s only a few blocks away, but still. It feels like miles in the state you’re in.

Joel notices you lagging behind and slows his long stride. “You okay there? Look a little tired,” he asks as he takes your hand in his to steady yourself.

“I’m just tired. I feel like I’m about to fall over. Soooo tired and my feet are on fire, but it was absolutely worth it,” you smile, eyes lighting up at the curl of his lips on his beautiful face.

“You need a hand, darlin’? Don’t want ya fallin’ over on me now,” he laughs, and the sound is infectious as it rings sensually through your ears.

“I’ll be okay,” you sigh, continuing to walk with the burn of the back of your heels.

Before you can comprehend what happens, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder as you scream and laugh at the same time, throwing your arms around his neck to support yourself.

“Joel! Put me down! I don’t want people seeing up my skirt,” you laugh as he tugs on the material, making sure you’re fully covered.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. And you’re covered, I got ya.” He gives a gentle slap to your ass as you shriek and dig your fingers into his tousled curls at the nape of his neck. You relax your head against the crook of his neck and let him carry you back to the truck as the bottom of your feet start to let up.

“Your back, Joel. I don’t want to irritate it,” you say with concern running off your tongue. The last thing you want to do is throw his back out. You’d be giving him back massages endlessly to make up for it if that’s what happened.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Don’t worry about me. Gotta take care of the birthday girl,” he beams as he carries you across the road to the large, busy parking lot he parked in earlier.

“You’re sweet, Joel, but really. I don’t want to hurt you,” you repeat, your words coming out more serious than before.

“I’m fine, baby. Really.” You nod your head and sigh, continue letting him carry you until he gets to the truck, unlocking the door as he sits you down into the passenger seat and closes the door gently behind you. When he opens his door and gets situated in the driver’s seat, you flatten your body over the entire front seat and curl your head onto his lap as you dig your hand into his dark jeans.

“You gonna make me drive like that, baby?” he laughs as you turn on your back and look up at him, latching on to his flannel as you smile up at him.

“Was thinking about it.”

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you can feel all the vibrations in his body go through yours. It’s a nice feeling, makes you feel even more connected to him.

“I had the best time tonight,” you say quietly as you drag your thumb against the cotton material, making circular patterns as you focus on the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the only one he sees.

“Me too, angel. I can’t tell you the last time I had that much fun at a concert. But I can tell you one thing, it’s because you were with me,” he says with his lips curling up into a sideways smile that nearly takes the breath from you.

“Yeah?” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the nod of his head, a stray curl falling down onto his forehead as it escapes from the gel in his hair. You lift your hand and push it back into place, letting him catch your wrist and bring his lips down to your knuckles, tenderly kissing them as he brings your hand back down to your lap.

He trails his calloused fingers against your cheekbone slowly, dipping them over your jawline as tingles rush down your spine. His fingers feel electric, magnetic, like a current flowing through your insides.

His eyebrows knit together in concentration and he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, letting it linger as he stares soulfully down to your lips, letting his honey eyes pull back up to yours.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks quietly, a dazed expression meeting his eyes as the words come out warm, almost loving.

You nod up at him slowly. “You make me feel beautiful, Joel. You.”

He stares at you for another minute, eyes flicking between your lips and then back into your eyes. This time he holds your gaze, his eyes shifting into something you’ve never seen before. Something new, something exciting, uncharted territory.

You get lost in his gaze, exploring every warm fleck of sunlight that captures his brown irises. You watch the light brown flecks turn to warm honey colors as they seem to mix in with the darker brown shades of his eyes. You swear you can see whole galaxies in those eyes, can see yourself etched into the crevices that mix to make sunlight and splashes of amber painted together. You think you see your whole future in his eyes, can hear his irises calling your name like that’s where you belong, can feel yourself mixed together in the blood that keeps his beating heart alive, can taste the promise of forever in his arms. Like home is in his eyes, in his mind, in his heart, in his spirit, in his entire being. And you know that this is more than just infatuation and attraction. It’s more than chemistry, more than just a fling. It’s love, it’s pure undeniable love.

You see the way his eyes grow wide, see his lips curl up into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen before. You see he realizes it now, too. He feels it just as much as you do, feels the irrevocable pull that ties him to you, sees the girl of his wildest dreams. And that girl is you. It’s you.

He says your name slowly, quietly as he brushes a curl behind your ear and drags his fingers down your jawline, stopping right on your cheek as he traces slow strokes against your soft skin. And you know it’s coming, can see it in those dreamy eyes of his that you so desperately long to see every single day.

“I love you…” The words wash slowly off his lips as those three words send a wildfire running down your veins, coating your insides with warmth and longing that you’ve never felt before. He loves you. He loves you.

You wipe away a tear that pulls at your waterline, letting your smile take over your giddy features as you reach your hand up and run it through his salt and pepper scruff, getting lost in his touch, his scent, his everything. For this moment is raw, real, so very authentic.

“And I love you, Joel Miller. So much. So very much. How’d I get so lucky?” you choke out as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours as the flames ignite together.

The kiss is messy, passionate, everything you ever wanted after the sweetest love confession of your life. You let him bury his hands in your hair, let him inside your mouth as he slots his tongue up against yours, getting completely lost in his taste, his smell, his passion.

You know now that he burns for you just as much as you burn for him. Two flames consuming the other until there’s only one left. Twin flames that burn bright together. And it’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever dreamed.

Joel Miller is it for you. He’s the only one that can set your soul on fire like this. The only one you want to set you on fire. And so you let him burn in your presence, consume you until you’re nothing but a flame that only burns for him. He’s your constant, your person, your everything.

When you finally part lips and find the parking lot almost empty, Joel starts the truck up and puts it in drive, leaving one hand tangled in yours as your fingers connect like webs. Your head stays in his lap as your eyes close partially, letting the hum of the truck and his calloused fingers sing you to sleep. You’re going back home. Not to your parent’s place, but to his. That’s where you belong, where you want to stay. With him. Because he is your home.

He’s home.

[letteredlettered]

Hi!! Out of curiosity, which MDZS character do u think about the most and why?

The answer is, without a doubt, Wei Wuxian.

Part of what makes WWX special to me is he feels really archetypal and yet the archetype doesn't actually appear in most of the western media with which I'm familiar. The archetype may be super common in eastern media or perhaps, more narrowly, Chinese media, but my point he feels singular to me and therefore interests me, and I'm familiar with mostly western media. The comparisons in this post are all comparisons to western media, since that's what I'm familiar with, and I tried to pick popular examples so that people would understand what I mean.

Wei Wuxian is a protagonist who does bad things. Very bad things. We see that in plenty of western stories, but it's less common in western fantasy. That is, you can read a million stories about professors sleeping with their students and making a very bad muck of their lives; you can watch Breaking Bad and The Sopranos, but more often in western fantasy you're going to have a Good Guy who does good and Bad Guys who do bad.

But, okay. There's certainly a significant portion of western fantasy in which no one is a Good Guy, and everyone is a little corrupt: Song of Ice and Fire, Interview With the Vampire. Wei Wuxian feels very different to me than the protagonists of these media, because Wei Wuxian is trying to be the Good Guy. He's well-intentioned. He is willing to stand against all of society to defy corruption and protect those who are weaker than himself. That kind of protagonist isn't very common in the kinds of "dark" genre fiction that are about the corruption of humanity or the political intrigues of society. If they exist, they're usually martyred and disappear from the narrative because they are too good for this world, too pure.

But the point of WWX is that he is not too good; he is not pure. He is good; he is brave; he is righteous; he stands up for the little guy--but he is also over-confident in his own ability. He overreaches. And people die because of it. Lots of people. And then, after he accidentally murders people due to losing control, he goes mad. The Nightless City massacre occurs not due to an accident but because WWX is careless and angry. He kills a lot more people then.

I will say that western fantasy is full of characters who turn to "the dark side. The threat of "going dark" has become, in fact, an integral part of most portrayals of the hero's journey. But in the media with which I'm familiar, when someone does go dark, they become the villain. They are not allowed to live, or if they live, they must still be vanquished. Star Wars is a quintessential example: Luke Skywalker is tempted by the dark side but resists; he is the hero. Darth Vader is tempted by the dark side and gives in. Even though he turns back at the end, he must still be eliminated.

Of course, there are plenty of villains who reform in such stories and then manage to survive. I think you could say that once resurrected, WWX is reformed in this way. He knows he lost control. He knows he hurt people. He's very sorry about it, and while he still has a drive to put his hand in to help others, I can't imagine him coming to the point where he would lose control again, and I also do not think he has the kind of anger or resentment that would allow him to be so careless and wanton with his cultivation again.

So, in this sense, WWX holds the place of a reformed villain, like Zuko or, say, Angel, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. One thing to note about both of these examples--Zuko is shown to be "on the dark side" because of the family and culture in which he was raised, and also, he was a child. Angel was "on the dark side" because he didn't have a soul. That is, the excuses for why these reformed villains were ever villains at all exonerate them to some extent.

Meanwhile, WWX was a villain because he was full of himself. Like, it's still understandable why WWX was a villain: he sacrificed all the power he had for someone he loved; he still needed power to protect his own life when he was being tortured, and this took him down a dark path; he needed even more power to help the world fight corrupt fascists; he was villainized by society even before he became an actual villain because that society feared and desired his power; he was literally ostracized and rejected by his own family for doing the right thing. But in the end, it wasn't like he had no other choice when he caused the death of JZX. He didn't feel like he had another choice to save the Wens, but if he had not been so over-confident in his ability to control himself, JZX would not have died. And while I find the massacre at Qionqi Pass maybe excusable considering the pressures WWX was under, WWX goes mad after that. Also understandable, but there is no way in which the massacre at Nightless City is excusable. There's just no way to say it wasn't his fault.

Okay, but there are some reformed villains in western fantasy who really were villains because they just made some wrong choices. They were arrogant like WWX, or they were petty and small, or they had a sucky childhood but nothing that should've led them into darkness. These characters do exist, but I find them few and far between (and I will fully admit here that maybe I just haven't read enough western fantasy to come up with enough examples). When they do show up, they are not usually the protagonist (Snape); they more often play side roles.

And the point with these guys is that they did bad things because they were not well-intentioned. Their intentions change, and therefore their moral alignment changes. But WWX was always trying to do good. It's only at the very end that he is no longer trying, and he loses his mind partly because all of his efforts to do good have flown up in his face. I just feel like I never get to see someone who was honestly trying to help people so earnestly, and fucks it up because he was trying to do too much. The closest example is Xie Lian, and I think we can all agree Xie Lian never becomes anything close to a villain.

However, now comes the trait that really does make WWX different from any other protagonists I've ever read, and most I've seen on screen: he is all of the above, a reformed villain who was well-intentioned throughout his descent into villainy, who doesn't brood.

Everyone I mentioned above--Zuko, Angel, Snape--are all very serious people who are consumed by their pasts. If they're not dour or bitter, they're still unable to be light-hearted or carefree. Meanwhile, WWX is the definition of light-hearted and carefree. He has a lot of regrets and some guilt, but he really doesn't dwell on it. Like, he fucked up. He died. How else can he atone? He knows he can't make it up to the people he hurt. Might as well move on and not get in their face about it.

In general, WWX's personality is unusual for the kind of hero he is. While it's true that the wise-cracking, smart-talking hero is a staple of western fantasy (Iron Man, Spider Man), these aren't the kind of heroes who can make the serious mistakes that WWX makes--or, though they do make mistakes that lead to the deaths of countless bystanders, they are never really confronted with the enormity of those crimes. I know that some people will say that WWX is not confronted with them either, that his crimes are not dealt with seriously enough in the text. I admit that I was very surprised that WWX blames the death of JZX on JGY during the final showdown in the temple. In the end, however, I think there are enough questions about whether WWX is actually a Good Guy that the story of MDZS seems quite different than, say, many western superhero stories, in which yes, superheroes do bad things and make mistakes, but are still ultimately our heroes.

But the other thing about WWX's personality that is unique for such a protagonist and also further distances him from heroes like Iron Man is this: WWX is pathetic. He's allowed to be pathetic, on quite a few occasions. He pretends to be a child. He pretends to be a damsel in distress. He purposely harasses and teases others in a way that is actively annoying to them. He's laughable. The closest parallel I can think of to how deeply WWX is willing to abase himself and annoy the fuck out of others in Deadpool, but the thing about Deadpool is that he is ultimately comedic. You know you're going to laugh if you're reading a Deadpool comic or watching one of his movies. Also, while Deadpool is a badass, need I remind you that WWX is the most powerful and the most feared person in the entire world, perhaps in all of history. The fact that WWX is as powerful as he is and still throws himself on people he likes and pretends to weep is only matched by Luo Binghe, but LBH is different in that his willingness to be pathetic is a tactic of manipulation. Meanwhile WWX is pathetic for fun; he likes to annoy people; he's ridiculous; he's laughable.

He's also lovable, but imo, like Deadpool and like LBH, I don't think we're always supposed to find him charming. We're supposed to recognize that these characters sometimes go too far for a joke. We're supposed to be annoyed at times, at least imo.

But in the end, we are supposed to like WWX. We're also supposed to feel really sorry for him and sympathize with him for what he did. He's an enormous woobie, while at the same time he massacred thousands and then laughed it off. Who does that? Who does it like the Yiling Lazou? When you add in the fact that he's super gay, but all his gay fantasies consist of farming and eating Lan Wangji's cooking and talking about fishing and keeping house, I'm just left asking, Wei Wuxian, who the fuck are you? Who the fuck can match you?

This is why I spend so much time thinking about this character. I can't actually wrap my head around him, and frankly, the way MDZS is told doesn't help. MXTX actually does not really get into WWX's head very much once he starts his path of demonic cultivation, and while we get some insights as to what is going on with him through flashback and his dialogue at the time, I am still somewhat in the dark about why he made the choices he did.

The only character I've ever encountered who even comes close to WWX is Spike from BtVS, and WWX is still on another level.

Lastly, I'll say that the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is another thing I have never witnessed in western media. It is so complex and interesting to me that I could make a whole post on it, which is why even though the answer to your question is by far Wei Wuxian, if WWX didn't exist, Jiang Cheng would win this question by a landslide.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Finding Peace Pt.3: Dance With Me (Spike x Y/N)

Request: No. Part 3 of the Multi fic.

Synopsis: Being a cursed slayer is hard. Harder when a vampire won't just leave you alone.

TW: None.

Word Count: 1.2k

Previous | Next

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Sun has set and the air is thick with fog. It’s eerily quiet in the cemetery. Not a creature to disturb the atmosphere. Inside the crypt there permeated a different energy.

Heavy sighs and lustful laughs can be heard. The sound of passionate kissing and groping is evident in the quiet of the night. Spike held you close to him on the sofa. Like a predator that caught his prey. You sighed in his mouth as you melded in a fiery storm of desire. His hands roamed your upper back, trying to unclasp your bra. You didn’t protest. Everything was going well. Too well. You came out for air. Heavy eye contact was made. As if you could communicate your deepest desires with one look.

As Spike was ready to go in for another round of erotic contact a loud noise was heard. He looked up but nothing was there. Another thud nearer still. He felt in a haze. As if something was amiss. As he looks back down at you, you disappear. His dream is broken. He wakes up with a gasp. Another dreaded dream of the cursed slayer. He felt surprised that his attention had shifted so suddenly to the new slayer. His heart still belonged to Buffy, or at least that’s what he liked to believe. However, these heavy sensual dreams were more frequent as of late.

Outside y/n roamed the cemetery, hacking away at heavy foliage near the wooded area. Another night out on the hunt. If it could stop, that would be an improvement to y/n's life. Being cursed to hunt demons for over 1,000 years is less of a privilege and more of a punishment. The world may be safe, but y/n loses her grip on reality. Every day is the same. Wake up, go to work, wait till the sun sets and hunt. Everything was the same with a little twist, this time around. Spike being the lemon to her lemonade. She regarded him as an equal, someone that she enjoyed being around, but the lord knows he was bad for her. With his British accent, bravado and underlying poet heart. She had met many like him, but he had a spark to him. A light that others missed. She hadn’t seen him since their slow dance. You could say that tonight her hunt was partially focused on finding him again.  

The cemetery was empty, quiet. The fog gave it an eerie ambiance. Y/n was guarded and ready for a fight. No, hoping for a fight. A crack in the distance catches her attention. She walks closer, hoping to encounter a demon. She pounces on a bush, wrestles with a branch or two to find nothing. A bunny on its way to its hide out.

"Attacking critters, are we?" A smug voice called from behind.

Y/n whips her head around to find him, leaning on a tombstone. She made a mental note of how ridiculously big the tombstone was. She feigned annoyance.

"You can never be too sure in the Hellmouth. What are you up to in this cryptic place." She brushed off the twigs and leaves that gathered in her hair.

"Vampire plus cemetery equals home."

She felt dumb. "Oh right, god forbid you find somewhere that doesn't smell like death"

"I like to call it musk." He grinned and walked closer. He fiddled with her hair, pulling the remaining twigs out of it. "Are we hunting tonight, cursed slayer?"

She snatched her hair back. "It’s just slayer and yes. I heard that a big demon was hiding out here. You didn't see a skinny little rascal full of horns and pointy teeth, did ya?"

"The description paints a picture but none that I’ve seen. Why not entertain yourself with some vampires while you wait?"

"No can do. That's Buffy's territory. I just hunt demons now a days.”

Spike raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “A retired slayer?"

"No, to loop back to your original point, I’m a cursed slayer. Part of the ordeal is that I can't kill vampires and they can't kill me. So we're eternally stuck with each other. Poetic, ain't it?" Y/n makes a face of defeat.

Spike takes a breath, processing what you just said. He is thoroughly amused by your circumstances. Enthralled with the idea that you can't hurt him and he can’t hurt you. Equals.

He proceeds to laugh after a pause. "You're pathetic."

"Super rude." She pushes past him. She regrets seeking him out. Of course, regardless of how she feels about him, he is still evil.

He reaches back for her only to miss her hand. The slight touch sending shivers down his spine. What a nit he has been. If she were like Buffy, she would’ve bantered with him. Picked a fight. Y/n is much less tolerant of his teasing.

Y/n walks with purpose deeper into the cemetery woods in search of the demon. Spike follows her.

"What do you want Spike? Let me be pathetic in peace." She's angry and hurt.

This is why you don't share about your curse. It makes you feel defective, useless. She thought.

He steps in front of you, hands up in a defensive stance. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean it as an insult"

You laugh. "How else am I supposed to take it?"

"I’m not used to people taking what I say to heart. I was expecting an insult back."

"Yes, please make fun of my suffering. I just love being eternal. If you’re looking for a fight, go somewhere else. Now move, this pathetic cursed slayer still has work to do."

As you walk away, he beats himself up internally. What a fucking idiot he's being. How can he reach out to you if he's too busy pushing you away? So, he follows you again without a word.

Screeching is heard from a couple of miles away. A pained scream from an unknown being. There's a clearing in the woods and an animal is seen thrashing and fighting for its life. Y/n crouches low, eyes on the demon feeding on the animal.

"That our guy?" Spike sneaks behind you.

You don't answer. You pull a sword from a sheath strapped to your back. You're ready.

You go in fast with a big swing. You miss by a small margin. The demon confronts you and you go at it. His slim form permits him to be agile while you're slightly slowed down by your weapon.

Frustrated, Spike gets tired of being on the sidelines. "Mind if I cut in." He slugs the demon unexpectedly.

The demon stumbles and before he can get his bearings you slice into the demon’s chest cavity. The demon screams out in pain. His body slumps with a disgusting thud.

"That was easy." Spike smirked.

You're frustrated with him for insulting you and the even more for cutting in. It was clear that coming out tonight was a mistake. You turn around and start to storm off, sword in hand. You hated how overly sensitive you felt around Spike. He was just another vampire. So, why were you so hurt by him?

"Wait..." Spike begs.

You swing your sword and place it inches away from his face. He steadies.

"I liked our dance the other night. It felt right. Can we do it again sometime?"

"Are you gonna insult me again?"

Spike pondered it. He liked getting under her skin. "Not unless it turns you on."

You laughed, you couldn't help it. This dolt of a vampire had you in a chokehold and you didn't know why.

"Do you know how to waltz?" She asked.

Spike grimaced. "A bit uppity for my taste but I'll do it." He pushes your sword away and steps closer "But only for you."

[jinjeriffic]

Danny as Bruce's son/clone concepts

I have a bunch of ideas that I haven't seen explored in the dcxdp fandom (yet. if you know any fics like this shoot me a link!). These are just concepts, feel free to use as you please.

The result of an ill advised teenage fling before Bruce went off globetrotting. Was given up for adoption at birth

A golddigger seduces Bruce in hopes of fleecing him for child support/an inheritance. She dies in a car accident or sth and baby Danny goes into the system

Early during Batman's career, before the meta gene was fully understood people thought Bats was a meta and tried to use his DNA for genetically engineering metas/supersoldiers. When no meta abilities manifested and funding dried up, the surviving child(ren) ended up in the foster system

Maddie worked for CADMUS (or other shady org) at some point but got squeemish and ran away with Danny, assuming a new identity

A relative of Jack or Maddie worked for CADMUS, smuggled Danny out and gave him to the Fentons for safekeeping

Danny was a test-run for what Amanda Waller ended up doing in the DCAU/Batman Beyond, ie creating a replacement Batman

Villainess wants leverage over Batman and/or Bruce and uses mind-control/drugs/shapeshifting to get a baby out of him, but can't be bothered actually raising the kid

Danny is Bruce's son from a different timeline, but during a reality collision/Crisis event things get mucked up. Danny is the only one to remember his timeline and thinks he's going nuts when everyone acts like he's had a whole life as Danny Fenton

Danny is Bruce's son from the future, but gets sent back in time as an infant to a point before his own birth

Danny is like Dawn from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and everyone's memories are altered to compel the Bats to protect him

[raisedbythetv89]

Ok ooooook OK SO.

Spike was literally made for Buffy because he was made for and by Drusilla, and Buffy and Dru are the same person:

Innocent, kind-hearted young girls, with special gifts that cause them to carry more guilt/burden than others and they are used/abused/traumatized by angelus/angel, then neglected and abandoned, with Spike being there to pick up the pieces and nurture, care for, and love them the best he can to help them move past their angel trauma (which is actually an impossible task with Drusilla because of the sire aspect but isn’t with Buffy)

WHICH is why I believe William’s first act as a vampire was to try and save his mother. He was literally created to be Dru’s knight. Not only her protector but her healer. Which is why his first instinct when it should be all about blood lust is instead, to heal his mother who he still loves even as a vampire. I mean even Dru, a certified nutcase, is like you wanna do WHAT?!?! When Spike tells her his plan to save his mom😹

This is also why I believe angel trying to mold Spike into his image never really took or rather Spike was able to break free from it. Angel was created by darla for the intent of death, torment and destruction.

Spike was created to care for and love Dru. Which required an OBSCENE amount of patience, determination, humility, and love of a challenge. Which is why he was so intrigued by slayers, another seemingly impossible task - but the joy/fun was in the TRYING, the thrill of the unknown and the unpredictability of it all. Which are all the traits he needed to be there for both Dru and Buffy while also ensuring he never gives up on them as long as they want him there, and then some lol.

IM FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS

Because also this is soooooo not where I planned on going with this but “I was made to love you” episode title is now drawing in the connection of, is this why Spike didn’t initially see the problem with the Buffy-Bot until he saw the reaction of Buffy herself who often acts as his moral compass as he relearns what is “good” after 100+ years living by vamp code because him AS A HUMAN, in his vulnerable, dejected and devastated state was killed and made into a vampire for the sole purpose of loving and caring for Drusilla selflessly, without regard for himself, much like the bots were!! So why would he see the harm in creating something like that for himself when no one was going to die in the process and it meant he could stop fixating in the real buffy? Both of which to a vamp who’s only been trying to live by human morals again for like 14 episodes vs 120 years with NO help just trial and erroring his way through becoming a white hat which his starting point is “I would like credit for not taking advantage of bleeding disaster victims” and “what do you mean building a shrine to show how deep my devotion is and chaining you up, offering to kill my ex, and forcing you to talk to me and admit your feelings aren’t the way to do this??” 😹😹😹 like he gets it so wrong, it’s comical in season 5 because he truly is so earnest about all of it because while yes it is all for a chance with Buffy, he genuinely wants to be better for her so he can earn that chance. As he says to Riley “a fellas gotta try” after saying he doesn’t think he has a chance with her.

He was an Eleanore who desperately needed his Chidi. Which Buffy is his moral compass but she ends up being a “let them fail/push them into the deep end” kind of guide. So he makes A LOT of mistakes along the way as many of us often do in general but especially those of us who were raised by abusive parents; who in our adulthood, have to learn to discern what is healthy vs abusive to be a good person to both yourself and others and be in actual healthy relationships with boundaries and respect with zero practical experience or good instincts to go on.

NONE of this excuses any harm that Spike causes at all. That is not the point of this to say “oh he didn’t really do bad”, no he did. Spike caused a lot of harm but this perspective that I’ve finally been able to put into words is why none of the harm ends up being a deal breaker for me and many spuffys because it puts his choices in the right perspective which is not that of a human even though he looks like one a lot of the time.

Spike pre-soul, making the mistakes he makes isn’t the same as a human or a vamp with a human soul making the mistakes because he doesn’t have his human soul motivating and informing the decisions he makes. It really mimics different cultures in a lot of ways as anya really demonstrates during her wedding with all her talk of demon culture and tradition (and her own struggles to assimilate into the human world again and she HAS a human soul and xander to help her) and the initiative being VERY n*zi coded and Riley being called a bigot because he is ignorant to much of demonology. So un-souled spike has a more potential for forgiveness of his mistakes than human soul havers because he is always genuinely TRYING to do right by Buffy even when he gets it horribly wrong. And the characters in the show always hold him accountable and make him feel TERRIBLE for the mistakes he makes.

Why does he have such potential for forgiveness you ask? The best example is to think of the concept of someone trying to assimilate themselves into a new culture. We can’t expect them to blend right in perfectly and get all the culture norms right, right away (again -anya-but also a real life example - when I travel in Italy and catch up with friends there I STILL always stumble and forget they’re always gonna go in for a double cheek kiss greeting - pre covid anyway - and I KNOW it’s a thing but if I’m out of practice it takes me a while to start greeting people that way again and it makes for some AWKWARD ENCOUNTERS until I get it down😹). It takes time, and normally guidance and patience from others that spike honestly doesn’t often have except in the form of being yelled at or beat up until he gets his soul. But his willingness to TRY anyways despite failure, rejection, ridicule and cruelty. How can I not love him?? He is me, I am him!! I was also met with so much unhelpful criticism and cruelty when I was just trying to learn and do a good job.

Both as someone who is autistic and didn’t know it for a lot of life; I too felt like I was blundering through without a guide or a rule book and I was sure I was making mistakes because people would get upset but I had NO help identifying what exactly I did wrong or what to do instead. So I knew I was messing up but had to keep guessing and trying anyway and getting it wrong again and again!

And as someone raised by an emotionally distant/abusive narcissist, navigating healthy relationships became even MORE difficult and I made a lot of bad choices along the way that landed me in some awful relationships much like what spike and Buffy devolve into towards the end of season 6 because both of them are up stream without a paddle when it comes to healthy relationships, healthy coping mechanisms, and communication. They know pain, avoidance, fighting, torment, and ecstasy from always living in extremes and life or death situations (notice Buffy struggles the most in the season with no threat of the apocalypse until the last two episodes - season 6 - which is SO common for people with trauma, you really fall apart when things are low stakes)

It’s why the tenderness and gentleness of season 7 means SO MUCH. Both of them experiencing these tiny pockets of true peace with each other after everything they’ve been through individually and together. Experiencing true peace like we see from them is one of the hardest things to accomplish if you have severe trauma.

I’m always really happy when I can digest these complex themes enough to communicate why I love them so much and why they’re so important to me. The fact that this show had so much in-fighting amongst the writers and misogynists trying to make spike pathetic and accidentally making him one of the most complex characters, plus episodes based specifically on neurodivergent/queer peoples’ traumatic coming of age experiences because the parallels are SO strong there no way they’re not lol. This all means I can probably spend the rest of my life dissecting the layers of this show and learning about myself in the process and always find something new 🙃🙃🙃 and clearly I love all aspects of spuffy so god damn much as they each embody a big part of my life experiences in so many beautiful yet tragic ways.

[demonphannie]

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum (dan and phil subliminally mentioning buffy for over a decade) they raised me in (i am now addicted to watching buffy the vampire slayer)

[adverbally]

The Victims Have Been Bled

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Vampire” | wc: 1,585 | rated: M | cw: canon-typical violence and gore, violent animal death (offscreen but the aftermath is discussed), non-con/rape vibes around a forced biting situation | tags: evil vampire Eddie, psychological torment, obsession, vampire lore in the style of Buffy the Vampire Slayer | title from “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” by Bauhaus

———

It starts small. Misplaced belongings, clothes that he must have left at Robin’s the last time he slept over. Feeling like he’s being watched from the tree line in the backyard. Startling awake from a dead sleep, thinking he heard someone call his name. Just enough to leave him unsettled.

Then the dead animals start appearing around his yard. Rats and birds, at first, making Steve wonder if a stray cat is leaving gifts on his doorstep, until the carcasses get bigger. Rabbits, bobcats, foxes, even a massive buck one memorable morning. As vicious as their wounds are, there’s hardly any blood on them.

“They’re being killed somewhere else,” Robin theorizes, pacing around Steve’s kitchen. “That’s why there’s so little blood, someone is doing the killing somewhere else and bringing the bodies here.”

“Why would anyone do that?” Steve rubs his hands over his face. He’s hardly slept in the past week, jumping at every little noise in the hopes of catching the culprit in the act.

Robin’s face is serious. “To send you a message.”

Hopper seems to agree, since he asks the department to assign a patrol to Steve’s block. “Make sure you’re locking your doors and windows,” he reminds Steve as they walk the perimeter of the house. “People who kill animals for fun don’t always stop there.”

Steve keeps everything locked up, even when he’s staying at someone else’s place more nights than not. Robin’s parents insist it’s safer for him to stay with them than in that big empty house, and Dustin invites him over when his mom has to work the night shift. It would be kind of nice, being fussed over like this, if the circumstances weren’t so alarming.

Being around other people doesn’t stop the dreams, though. Every night it’s the same— someone whispering Steve’s name right behind him, cold fingers tracing over his shoulders and up his neck. Let me in, they encourage, until it feels like the idea was Steve’s to begin with, until teeth (fangs?) sink into his flesh with a sting that radiates red-hot through his body and he’s gripping at the cool limbs holding him in place like they’re the only thing keeping him from floating away…

When Steve wakes up, he’s drenched in sweat and hard in his boxers and shaking with fear.

He’s sick of this game, where he’s not even a player but a pawn to be toyed with. He’s sick of being afraid of every little sound in the dark and sick of wondering how far this is going to go. He’s not waiting around until things get worse or this psycho goes after his friends. This ends tonight.

The sun is just sinking below the horizon when Steve pulls into the driveway. The front yard is clear, from what he can tell, and the house stands dark and silent in the twilight. He grabs his bat from the trunk of his car and heads around to the backyard.

The pool lights are on and steam is rising from the surface into the cool autumn air, though he’s pretty sure he shut everything off before he left. Steve’s sweaty grip tightens, raising the bat so he’s ready to swing at the first sign of trouble.

As he inches past the diving board toward the back door, a dark shape in the water catches his eye.

“Hey,” he calls with a confidence he doesn’t feel, “I’m gonna give you one minute to leave before I call the cops.”

There’s no response, just the gentle splash of the water as the shadow floats around.

Steve takes a step closer. “You hear me?” It’s so hard to see in the fading light and steam coming off the water. He scoots as close as he dares to the edge of the pool and squints for a better look.

It’s a body.

A woman’s body, with long brown hair and suntanned skin and freckles, wearing a yellow sweater and blue jeans and white sneakers. She’s clearly dead, floating with her pale face on display and her vacant stare aimed at the sky.

“Pretty, huh?”

Steve startles at the voice echoing across the water. “Who’s there?” he calls back in the direction of the tall dark figure at the other end of the pool.

“She reminded me of you,” they continue, ambling along the deck toward Steve with a purpose that feels predatory. “Gorgeous hair, all those little beauty marks.” They tilt their head thoughtfully. “You won’t beg like she did at the end, you’re braver than that. I just wish you could’ve been a little braver when it counted. Probably would’ve saved my life.”

The back of Steve’s neck prickles. That’s the voice from his dream, but it sounds familiar now in a way it hadn’t upon waking. His voice shakes when he asks, “Eddie?”

“Steve?” he mimics, pitching it to match Steve’s fear, before he relaxes into his natural voice. “Yeah, did you miss me?”

“You were dead,” Steve insists, trying to hold the bat steady in front of his body as Eddie continues to stalk around the pool, closer and closer. He can make out his shape now, the riot of curls and his lanky frame and the big, piercing eyes peering out of the darkness.

He shrugs. “That’s the first step. Imagine my surprise, waking up alone in the Upside Down, knowing I had died but feeling better than ever. Stronger, faster.” His grin shows a glint of fang. “Deadlier.”

Steve shakes his head uselessly. “The animals, the dreams— that was all you.” It’s not a question but a painful statement of fact.

“I’ve been thinking about you. Even before I died, you know? Popular, gorgeous, noble Steve Harrington, who wouldn’t fall for you? I just wanted to make sure you were thinking of me, too.”

“Yeah, mission accomplished,” Steve spits. “You’ve been tormenting me for months.”

“You think you know torment?” Eddie closes his eyes and tips his head back as he takes in an exaggerated breath through his nose. “Every night, I stand out here and smell you. All spicy and warm. It’s so good, it’s like torture, especially when I know you’re gonna taste even better.” When they open again, his eyes are such a deep red they seem to glow.

“You need to leave,” Steve tells him.

Eddie laughs out loud, that same wicked cackle that was so contagious. Now it just makes Steve’s blood run cold. “Who’s gonna make me?”

Steve doesn’t even think before he’s sprinting for the back door, following some primal corner of his brain that’s telling him to run for his life. He makes it about halfway there before he’s tackled to the deck.

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie croons from above him, “you didn’t have to go to all this trouble just for me.” He mouths at Steve’s jaw, buries his nose just under his ear and sniffs.

Eddie hadn’t been kidding about the enhanced strength; he doesn’t even flinch when Steve pounds his fists against his chest or tries to push his face away.

“I can make it so good for you,” Eddie promises. He licks a thick stripe up Steve’s neck that makes him shiver despite himself. “Just a little taste. Then you’ll be begging me for more.”

“No, Eddie, please,” Steve protests, no longer fighting down the terrified tears springing to his eyes. “Please, don’t do this.”

The scrape of fangs against his skin makes him feel sick. Desperately, he gropes along the deck with one hand, trying to get away from the piercing violation as Eddie bites down—

Steve’s fingers close around the handle of the bat where it had fallen beside him. Without a second thought, he raises it and slams it down into Eddie’s skull.

With a yowl, Eddie pulls away from him, distracted enough by the nails tearing through flesh and bone that Steve can shove him off and stumble to his feet, barely keeping hold of the bat. He darts forward, yanks at the handle on the sliding glass door, and…

It doesn’t budge. Through the glass, Steve can see the mechanism on the inside handle, firmly set to the locked position.

Thank god it’s glass, Steve thinks, and he winds up and swings the bat hard into the door. It shatters immediately and he jumps through the falling shards just as Eddie’s clawed fingers swipe at his jacket collar. From the pile of broken glass on the floor of the sunroom, Steve looks up and sees Eddie slamming his hands into an invisible barrier in the doorway.

So, it’s true that vampires can’t enter a private residence without permission. Steve makes a mental note to tell Dustin.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s head is drenched in his own blood and his eyes are flashing in the moonlight, but his manic grin hasn’t changed. “This is no way to treat a guest. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Steve claps a hand over the bite on his neck, putting pressure on the still-oozing wound. “Go to hell,” he says.

Any warmth that might have lingered in Eddie’s gaze disappears like a switch has been flipped. “I think you’re the one who’s going to be in hell,” he says calmly. “I’ll see you soon. Just let me know when you get tired of letting innocent people die in your place.”

With a little wave of his fingers, Eddie is gone.

Steve sits there among the broken pieces of glass and feels himself break a little, too.

[cjsmalley]

Wished Away 7:

Happy Thanksgiving (Early, I Know, Shut up):

“Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker wish to invite you to our Thanksgiving meal,” Damian said.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, “we’re a lot.”

Even without Damian, Bruce had many children and cooking for all of them was sometimes a tall order.

Damian smiled, “We are aware. You are not the only family we are inviting. Every child Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker has taken in we have invited along with their remaining family if they have any. Even the non-Americans have been invited.”

“We’d be delighted to come,” Alfred said for his family, “should we bring anything?”

“You may,” Damian agreed, “however, the chefs and cooks of the Palace will be preparing the main meal. It will be mostly meatless. Seitan mostly, in observance with mine and Mother’s dietary needs and our beliefs. It will also be made in-line with kosher regulations.”

“Cookies,” Jason said, looking at Alfred, “we can make vegan cookies.”

“Very well, Master Jason,” Alfred nodded, already planning for such a large batch, or several batches.

Damian grinned.

Thanksgiving Day arrived and the portal opened.

They filed through and were greeted by Sam, the younger Sam on her hip, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Sammy just waved shyly, gaining fond chuckles.

They all echoed the sentiment and were led through the palace to one of the ballrooms, “Not even the large dining room is big enough to hold our horde,” she said with humor.

“Oh?”

“Everyone invited came,” Sam explained before visibly remembering, “Oh, and any red wine you see? Not red wine; we have a vampire in attendance. He eats human food but not really.”

“Of course,” Bruce nodded; only Dick was of age to drink, of his children, but neither one really drank. Still, it was good to know.

“’m assuming the vamp’s friendly?” Jason voiced.

“Friendly as in doesn’t eat humans anymore, yeah,” Sam nodded, “but, well, Spike’s Spike. You’ll understand once you meet him. Don’t go after his humans and he’s nice enough.”

“Fair enough,” Stephanie nodded.

“Also in attendance are a Vampire Slayer, several witches and wizards, two magic superheroes…basically everyone you met at Damian’s birthday party’s here. I know Spike wasn’t there; he had to babysit the Hellmouth that day, so he’s really the only new face. Him and his daughter, Hope.”

“Vampires can have—”

“She’s adopted, from a separate dimension. Danny brought her to the Hellmouth group to hide her. She’s being raised by Buffy and Spike.”

“Oh.”

They finally made it to the ballroom; the doors were wide open; servants rushed forward to relieve the Waynes of the platters of cookies they carried before they entered the room.

Most of the room was divided down the middle by a cartoonishly long dining table, bench seating on either side of it. Settings were already in place.

In one corner was a padded and gated off area where Anakin and the baby that could only be Hope played. Well, played as only young babies could, which wasn’t much.

Dotted around the room were small clusters of regular chairs and beanbag chairs, some of which were already occupied, surrounding small tables with pitchers of water and juices and, yes, blood.

Spike the vampire was easy to pick out from the masses because he had a glass of what looked like red wine in hand. Nobody else did.

The Waynes spread out, first finding Damian to say hello, then mingling and visiting with the friends made at the birthday party.

Bruce made his way towards the vampire.

“’Lo,” Spike greeted lowly over his drink, Buffy at his side.

“Hello, Buffy,” Bruce said before smiling with a closed mouth, “and you must be Spike. Bruce Wayne.”

“Not an ape, mate,” Spike snorted, “won’t attack if you smile at me. Sit down, take a load off. Hear you’re Batman. The real deal one.”

“I am,” Bruce took a seat, reaching to fill a cup with orange juice, “where did you hear it from?”

“Dawn was excited; her little brother’s bio-dad is Batman,” Buffy explained, rolling her eyes fondly, “one of my friends, Xander, is a big comic book nerd.”

“Ah. I assume there won’t be any problems?”

“Not from us,” Spike agreed, nudging Buffy with a smirk, “my girl here’s a superhero too. Won’t be any trouble from our lot. Right, Slayer?”

“Yep. No problems from us. If Danny and Sam are good with you being…you know, you then we’re good,” Buffy nodded, “just as long as you don’t put Dawnie or Hope in a suit.”

“I don’t want them out there,” Bruce grumbled, “but if I didn’t help them, they’d all be dead by now.”

“We get it, honestly,” Buffy assured, “Dawn’s given us enough gray hair,” she grinned mischievously at Spike, “she’s even given Billy Idol here some.”

“Slayer, you know that pissant stole—”

Bruce laughed.

Everyone mingled and chatted for a few hours before the meal began; servant after servant carried food and drinks to the main table as everyone found seats on the benches.

Spike and Danny placed the babies into highchairs.

By the time everything and everyone was ready, the table was fairly groaning with the meal.

Danny gained everyone’s attention, standing and grinning, “Welcome to Thanksgiving Dinner at the Palace. Thank you all for coming, even our non-Americans for putting up with our silly traditions.”

The non-Americans laughed fondly, nodding; even Alfred cracked a smile.

“For those who’re probably wondering,” he continued, “our essential living staff celebrated at lunch and most will have the day off tomorrow. Everyone else had the day off today. Now, normally we’d go around and say what we’re thankful for but we’d be here forever if we did that tonight. So, while we eat let’s just think about what we’re thankful for and enjoy the food and the company. Oh, and just so you know, everything’s kosher and most of the ‘meat’ is actually Seitan. Real meat is on the green platters. But before we begin, let’s give a round of thanks to the kitchen staff for making the food!”

Everyone applauded.

“Now, tuck in!”

They all did so with gusto; the meal was magnificent and it was clear the Palace staff had put their all into it.

Most of the Seitan was shaped into meat product appearances, looking indistinguishable from the real turkeys and hams. And it tasted almost like the real things too.

The meal lasted well into the night and everyone went home stuffed and with leftovers.