#btvs imagine

[evieelyzabethh]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know how to fix windows?"

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

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

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

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

"What're you gonna do that for!"

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

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I that transparent?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you still cold?"

[prose-for-hire]

Should I stay or should I go? (Part one)

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Spike x Giles!reader

Part one of four! Be kind please💖

Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with parents, especially dad!Giles, reader loses their home.

You had moved to Sunnydale a few years prior with your father, he had tried desperately to train you up as a watcher but you never listened, you hated following orders and ultimately, you failed your observation when the watcher’s council came into town to check on your progress.

It bored you and for the 48 hours that you had been in charge of Buffy, you had all gone to the Bronze and let an apocalyptic rift open in the heart of the town when you failed to investigate or do any meaningful research. In your defence, it was a very minor and basically harmless apocalypse. Well, it was after Angel contacted your father when he couldn’t get hold of you or Buffy and he came back into town.

You hated dusty research and telling people what they ought to be doing. You hated the weird pressure your father put on you to become a watcher just like him and sometimes, you even hated Buffy because of the way your father doted on her so. She could do no wrong, even when he was mad at her or telling her what to do he gave her a much easier time than he ever had with you.

You were a disappointment. You could see that clearly enough.

You stayed in Sunnydale though, for reasons unknown to yourself. You just didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nothing excited you, it seemed.

You had moved back in with your father after you couldn’t make rent. You had let another crappy job throw you out the door. You just couldn’t stick to their stupid pointless rules. They made no sense and they paid you next to nothing at that.

You were sitting on the lid of the toilet as Buffy fed your newest houseguest blood from a novelty mug.

“Willow may have had a very helpful idea. She seems to be coping better with Oz’s departure, don’t you think?” Giles asked walking back into the bathroom, directing his words at Buffy rather than the rest of the room as he walked in. It was like you didn’t exist most of the time.

“Well, she still has a way to go but, yeah, I think she’s dealing”

“What, are you people blind? She’s hanging on by a thread” Spike stated, muttering to himself after and rolling his eyes. Buffy just scoffed and left the room, taking the blood he had been drinking away with her as your Dad followed her out.

You had just been about to say something similar, but in a perhaps more conversational format rather than accusatory.

“You’re quite astute really, aren’t you” You said, scanning Spike’s face. He used to creep you out a bit back when he was trying to kill you and all that. Not that you would admit it.

You had never really studied him this closely before. But looking at him now, he just looked so normal. Apart from the shackles and the almost painfully pale complexion… and the fact he had blood crusting at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s no talent, pet, a man walkin’ in from the street could read the lot of you like a book”

“I like to think I’m not that predictable”

“Don’t you all. Humans, you’re always thinking you’re so original, but you’re all a copy of the last”

“I guess when you’ve been around a thousand years everything gets sort of old… apart from the, uh, obvious” you sort of gestured vaguely at his face, a little glint in your eye as you teased him.

“Watch it” He warned, his shackles clinking against the tub as he pointed to accentuate his words. You waited for a moment in silence, watching the tap slowly drip beads of water into the cool porcelain. You waited about seven drips before you spoke again.

“Don’t you get bored? I get bored of the days here sometimes, it’s always a demon or a spell or some dumb melodrama with Dad’s little protegees”

You were surprised at the way this admittance casually tumbled from your own mouth. You weren’t sure why you were speaking to him like this, perhaps you were seeking some kind of connection. It was very you to try in such a stupid place.

“No” he shrugged turning away from you and staring up at the ceiling.

“Come on, I’m trying to open up here”

“Well close back up again” He shrugged, his eyes still fixed upwards. You shrugged, standing and leaving him in his bathtub. You hoped boredom consumed him for the rest of the day.

You left for a bar and returned late at night, having missed another eventful Sunnydale evening. By the morning when it had all calmed down, Willow had showed up to apologise again to Giles and caught you brewing your morning beverage.

She explained animatedly about your father going blind, Buffy and Spike getting engaged and Xander being a demon magnet. You tried very hard to focus on her words and gasp in the correct places whilst your head spun and you gripped the handle of your mug.

Willow was your favourite out of the Scoobies, she was a sweet kid and you made the most effort with her as you got the sense she knew what not being listened to felt like. You were glad you had missed the evening’s events, not that sitting alone at a bar and nursing a drink was much more interesting.

A few weeks later, Spike had been allowed to roam more freely by this point and he was lying on the sofa in your living room. You had a snack in your mouth and had carried a steaming mug of blood in one hand and a box of Weetabix in the other.

You gestured with your head for him to move his legs and he just stared at you for a moment before moving and snatching the mug and the box from your hands. You settled in beside him in front of an episode of Passions, trying, once again to speak to him but he was cold with you. Not even a thank you for the blood. I mean, he was evil, but did he have to keep it up all of the time?

You had tried talking to him, asking him questions about his past but he only really gave short sentences in reply. Today you were unceremoniously told to shut up so that he could watch Passions in peace.

You huffed but stayed beside him, weirdly drawn in by the stupid show. You missed his eyes lingering on you briefly as you glued your eyes to the set.

Truth was, Spike had a little soft spot for you. One that had grown even slightly since he had become a hostage in the same house you lived in. He tried to keep a distance from you, not directly look you in the eye as if you were some kind of love-inducing gorgon that would turn his resolve into a stone that could so easily crumble.

But he wouldn’t give anything away.

By the time Spike left, you were relieved that you could use your bathroom in peace. You knew trying to talk to him had been a waste of time but he interested you and, more to the point, you had found yourself being incredibly lonely.

You had been distracted lately, trapped inside your mind. You felt like you were missing something. So much so you had maybe accidentally skipped a couple of shifts at your new job. You had been sneaking back into your house when Giles caught you. You winced at his voice, knowing you would have to fess up.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Magic Box?”

“Oh, right, about that…” You began, unsure how to explain what had happened the day before. You had been avoiding your Dad ever since. You didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.

“You really are a bloody-”

“A what? Go on, say it!”

“A liability” He stormed over and poured himself a whiskey.

“It’s not exactly surprising is it, being told I couldn’t even visit my mother, left only with a man like you as a father, hey Ripper?” You don’t know why you said it. Truly, he wasn’t a terrible father. He was just bad at hiding his disappointment which made you feel, in a word, terrible about yourself.

He went very quiet for a moment. The temperature seemed to drop before he finally spoke again.

“I suggest you leave”

“What-?”

“Pack up your things and leave” he repeated, pronouncing each word crisply.

“You can’t mean that!”

“You can’t support yourself, Y/n, and I certainly shouldn’t have to”

“Where am I supposed to go?!”

“I suppose you will have to begin by figuring that out for yourself” He stared through you, downing the rest of his scotch before thundering up the stairs to his room and slamming the door.

You were ashamed to admit that as soon as he slammed the door, you broke down into tears. You knew you had been fucking everything up. You just wanted something more, you couldn’t describe it.

You packed a bag, slung it over your shoulder and walked out of the door, not once looking back. To this day you still don’t know how long you walked for, but by the time that you could see the sun threatening the dark skies through your blurred vision you had found yourself in a graveyard.

You had nowhere else to go and you weren’t above sleeping in a graveyard, you soon discovered You were so exhausted you could barely move another step. You ducked into some old mausoleum, kicking away some dust from the corner and laying out your jacket as a sort of mattress and you bag as a pillow.

You curled into the corner and screwed your eyes up. You had finally began to drift into a fitful sleep when heavy footprints came towards you.

“This ain’t a bloody hotel, bugger off would you-!” He stormed, reaching down to grab your shoulder before he recognised you, “Y/n?”

You bolted up, relaxing only for a moment when you noted you weren’t in any immediate danger before descending straight into embarrassment. You would really rather he hadn’t caught you sleep-crying on the floor of a crypt. Then again, it didn’t really matter what he thought, you reminded yourself quickly. He scanned your face, finding pain written there and seemingly making a decision before he turned away.

You stood up, noting an old couch had been pushed into the far corner of the tomb. You sat on it, bringing your bag with you and noting that it was only marginally more comfortable than the floor.

“Here” Spike returned, offering you a half empty bottle of  liquor. You took it, nodding your thanks and taking two large gulps. His eyes bulged for a moment before pulling a face of slight approval, until you looked back at him and he hid any evidence of expression from his face.

“Why are you being nice?”

“You take that back. I’m not bloody nice”

“No, I know, you’re evil and all that. I’ll admit, I felt a little shiver when I saw you first until, I uh, remembered you couldn’t…” You tailed off, “Not helping my case am I?”

“Liquor’s the cheap stuff so you’re doin’ me a favour by getting rid of it” he shrugged. Spike was secretly pleased for the company. He had felt so alone of late.

You watched his lips, eyes scanning down to his neck and over his leather-clad torso. The way the dim light accentuated his features, the curve of his jaw, that sparkle in his eye, that smirk that was never far from his lips.

Oh God, no. You didn’t… did you?

[iwritefandomimagines]

HOME — SPIKE (BTVS)

masterlist

pairing: spike (btvs) x reader

description: evenings curled up on a newly acquired couch in the a vampire’s crypt were hardly what most would call domestic bliss. but for you? you’d never felt more at home.

warnings: none really ! sappy cutesy domestic romance <3

author’s note: listen i’m super ill & binging buffy and i needed some sweet, fluffy, domestic established relationship spike content so im providing it myself!

———

“Another glass of wine, love?”

You peered up at Spike with a smile, watching the combined glow of candlelight and the television light up the small grin on his face.

He looked almost godlike in this light — the dim orange flicker illuminating perfectly chiseled features, glistening teeth, twinkling eyes that bore into yours with utter love and admiration.

You’d never have expected to find such happiness with the vampire you’d once considered an enemy.

Granted, Spike had changed a lot in the time you’d known him.

But even as he fought alongside your friends and protected you time and time again, you’d never thought he’d reacquire a soul and you’d acquire feelings for him so powerful they sometimes winded you.

And now here you sat, curled up on the couch he’d bought to share with you, an empty wine glass in hand and a heart entirely at peace.

“Mhm,” you hummed, holding the glass out to where he’d poised the bottle for pouring, “Thanks babe. Just a little more.”

“Hardly any left anyway, pet,” he laughed, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, “Hungry?”

He placed the bottle back on the table with a thunk! and pressed a small kiss to your forehead as he sat back down beside you.

You shook your head, leaning in close and resting your head on his chest as he settled back down on the couch.

“You’re sure you’re alright just being here with me tonight?” you frowned momentarily, acutely aware that the rest of the Scoobies were out patrolling tonight.

Spike was always happier to be with you than out fighting evil — and no longer just because he was supposed to be a big bad himself — but you still worried about boring him when he could’ve been out causing chaos or having fun himself.

“Don’t be bloody daft, love,” he laughed, arm curling around your shoulder as you swigged your drink, “You think I’d want to be out there with those morons instead of here with you? I’d take being all cosy like at home with you over that any day.”

You smiled, the word “home” warming your heart. It meant the world knowing that he meant his words, despite that lingering feeling in your tummy that one day he wouldn’t feel that way.

“Just don’t want you getting bored of this kind of stuff, s’all,” you shrugged, your body relaxing under the soft rubbing of his thumb against your upper arm, “But m’glad, I needed a night like this tonight. I love you.”

At that, his already wide grin broadened exponentially, “Love you too, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about that, you know? I’m perfectly fine. Happy, even. Ecstatic, really. Could never get bored of bein’ with you, could I?”

You hummed in reply, almost satisfied with his reassurance, “I know, I just—,”

“Pet, it’s rare we get this kind of alone time, and you still think I’d want even less?” he scoffed, cupping your face in his hands, “Bollocks to the Scoobies and the big bad out there when I’ve got everything I need here.”

Okay, you weren’t going to fight back on this anymore.

He’d hated how soppy you made him at first. He hated how poetic his declarations to you often sounded, and how even before reacquiring a soul his undead heart was pained by any inclination you might be hurt or upset or mad with him.

Now, though, he’d grown to embrace it.

You saw him as he’d hoped to be seen all those years ago before he was turned — embracing his romanticism, and in fact finding it charming.

You knew how difficult it had been for him to open up to the way he felt about you, and given your friends’ disapproval it had been for you too.

But everything that had happened had led you here, to domestic moments with the man of your dreams and a place you could finally call home… Even if it was a crypt.

You’d discussed getting your own place together, but you didn’t want him to have to entirely relinquish every facet of his life before you, given that he’d already changed so much of himself.

“Sorry I ask that so much,” you chuckled, pressing a small kiss to the curve of his jaw, “Who’d have thought I’d have domesticated the big bad, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m not some bloody dog! I’m not domesticated. Just happy.”

“I’m only kidding, babe,” you giggled, “Besides, it’s you that’s got me on a leash as far as the others are concerned.”

He scoffed, another roll of his eyes as he held you in closer, “Yeah that’s ’cause they’re still convinced you can’t possibly love me. Can’t blame ‘em really, pet.”

At those words you placed down your glass, leaning up to kiss him urgently, gripping onto his t-shirt for a moment as you drew him in.

Despite his surprise, he relaxed into the kiss immediately and his hands found your waist to pull you to straddle his lap and deepen the kiss.

“Hate when you say things like that,” you pulled away briefly to pout, “They’re just so wrapped up in themselves they haven’t taken time to see the man you’ve become.”

He smiled against your lips, leaning back in to kiss you again briefly, “They’re right that you’re too good for me though, you know that? End of the day, m’still a monster for everything I’ve done.”

You shook your head, “You’re not a monster, Spike. William. You’ve done some terrible things, yes, but that’s not the real you. Not anymore. I wouldn’t change you for the world, alright? And I’m not too good for you. Never have been.”

It was his turn to kiss you with urgency now, overwhelmed by the emotion of your words.

“And here I thought I was the poet,” he chuckled, a low rumble as you watched his throat bob when he swallowed, “Pretty face and a mouth full of pretty words to boot.”

You scoffed jokingly, “Only for you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Hardly, pet. S’why they don’t like you being with me. Doesn’t matter though, sweetest girl in the world ‘nd you’re all mine.”

You hummed, cheeks flushing red at the compliments.

It usually pissed you off that everyone treated you like you were too pure for this world, like some helpless little girl who needed saving.

Maybe that’s why you’d been so drawn to Spike to begin with — he’d never treated you as fragile, only ever seeing your brightness as a strength (if not a nuisance at first).

“All yours.”

“Want to put another film on, love?”

You pondered his question for a moment, briefly eyeing the television before shaking your head.

“Just want to lay with you, if that’s okay,” you yawned, cuddling into his chest.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as your sleepy eyes blinked open and closed, “Okay love, let’s get you to bed.”

He scooped you up into his arms bridal style, smiling down as you yawned again and cuddled in closer, “All this romance has worn you out, eh?”

Your eyes opened briefly again for a moment as he laid you down on your shared bed gently, “Nope, m’just… Just happy. Comfortable. Sleepy.”

Spike laughed, rolling his eyes as you fell asleep almost as soon as you’d finished speaking.

He rid himself of his jeans, curling up next to you and pulling you as close to him as possible, “G’night pet. I love you.”

He didn’t need you to say it back right now to know you felt the same, and if he could he’d stay in these domestic moments forever.

Try as he might to deny it — you were right.

You had softened and domesticated him… But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

———

ok i hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!!! no idea how i feel about this, i liked it at first but then lost my way a bit i think lmao. pleaaaase let me know your thoughts & feel free to request more if you’d like <3 here is my masterlist too.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

In Disarray and Dazed (Spike x Y/N)

Requested: YES! <3 Thank you! Thank you for the request. I had so much fun writing it. Requested by @wtv-my-current-hyperfixation

TW: Mention of violence and getting hurt.

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Summer breeze refreshed their skin. The crickets chimed in a frenzy. Another night of hunting, another night of scars and beatings. Your body can't keep up. The cemetery was finally quiet and in peace. You make sure the Scobies are okay before you head out of the cemetery to your house. You eye Spike on your way out, forcing yourself to not limp. You swore that he looked back at you, reading your intent. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself, especially not from Spike. You'd be mortified if he took care of you. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if he was that caring and vulnerable. Your brain would explode with serotonin and dopamine. You make sure to announce you're leaving before making a quick getaway. 

You barely make it to your house. After a long shower you survey the damage to your body. Carefully, you dab, clean and patch up all your bruises and cuts. You're sore and tired. As you walk over to your room you keep replaying the events that occurred tonight. You worried about everyone's safety but when it came to Spike you worried the most. He could hold up his own, but still... You reminded yourself that he was a vampire with more years of experience than you. You were thankful for his presence and his decision to intervene when you almost got pummeled. Very chivalrous of him. It made you blush.

Feet tired and dragging, you make it to your bed. It’s not long before you fall asleep and disappear into the dreamscape.

Outside cigarette smoke litters the air. Spike stands by a tree close to your window. He is worried for your safety and wellbeing. He made sure that you made it home safe. Obviously, he was careful to not be seen. He longed to take care of you, to make you feel safe. However, this was as far as he dared go. A monster like him didn’t deserve to be happy.

Inside, you tossed and turned in fear. In your dream you were in the woods, running, You didn’t know why, only that you were in danger. You had the vague feeling that you weren’t alone. Spike, he was with you. You searched for him, seeking refuge. If you reached him, everything would be alright. You reach a clearing with no one present. Your heartbeat in your ears. You wait as if destined to be there. In the distance you can hear grunting and fighting but you can’t move. Your feet glued to the floor. Eventually you see Spike being tossed in the air, he lands hard into the clearing. You fear for his life. A demon appears, mangled and mean. Spike scrambles to get away from him, fear in his eyes. You have never seen Spike so afraid. The demon is holding a long wooden stake like a stick. You scream for Spike to watch out but no sound escapes your lips. You are mute and stuck. Your breath is labored and panicked. Spike is unable to get away and before he can get up he is staked and turned into dust. Your eyes widen, tears stream down your face. You’re at a loss and afraid of what will happen to you. You try to force yourself to move as the demon approaches you, a long sword now in his hand. As he swings you wake up, drenched in sweat. Your heartbeat fast and your breath caught in your throat.

You panic. What about Spike? Is he gone? Did this really happen tonight? Your mind is foggy and in disarray. You couldn’t remember if this happened. You jolt out of bed and get dressed. You run out of your house and straight to Spike’s crypt. You needed to make sure he was okay. You needed to be sure that he still lived.

You bust into Spike’s crypt, eyes wild and searching. There he is, sitting in his armchair watching TV. You rush to him and place your hands on either side of his face, making sure it wasn’t a dream. Tears roll down your face as you repeat ‘you’re safe.”

Spike looks at you bewildered and confused. He slowly places his hands on top of yours.

“What’s happenin’, love?’ Spike gets up, still holding your hands to his face.

You rapidly explain your dream between sobs and tears. Spike’s eyes soften, his heart melts. He wishes every moment with you could be like this.

“Mighty worried for an old vampire.” Spike deflects.

You breathe hard, not knowing your next move. Without thinking your mouth moves.

“Spike, I love you too much to lose you.”

You swear that you heard him gasp. He is stunned and stuck. His brain is a mess, and no words will come out. He chooses to do the next logical thing, he kisses you. He pours his desire and feelings in one kiss, hoping that you hear what he is trying to say.

You melt into the kiss and let go of your inhibitions. Your arms wrap around him, and you let yourself be guided by him. You eventually come out for air, making sure to make eye contact as you break the kiss.

Spike is left in awe of his own actions but doesn’t back down. He wraps his arms around you tightly and bring you closer to his body. You take a chance to memorize the feeling of his body.

“Love, I’ve been dying to hear you say those words.”

You smile, appreciative that your feelings are reciprocated.

“Let me stay the night.” You state more than ask.

Spike leans down for another kiss, slower and more passionate. He memorizes your taste, your feel. He wishes that all his years alive were this moving and strong. He forgets himself as he kisses you. He forgets that you need air. You gently pull away, dazed and happy.

“You can stay any night, pet.”

Spike gladly leads you to his bed where you both lie in bliss. No more fear. No more disarray. Only comfort and safety.  He may be a monster, but in your eyes he was a man. Not just any man, your man.

[evvyyypeters-fics]

Coming back for a short moment after hiatus because I’m having a new hyperfixation on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and of course I stan Spuffy so hard. (Fuffy is second, Bangel is never, and Ruffy is in hell)

Quick drabble/ imagine

Warnings! Mention of sex, slightly toxic relationship (it’s Spuffy, consume at your own discretion) slight spoilers of S6 (1-16)

I can’t stop imagining jealous!Buffy. Like, we know Spike is jealous over even the idea of another guy romantically involved in Buffy’s life. But imagine s6 Buffy getting silently jealous over Spike getting attention from a fangirl or someone who finds him attractive, and she is too proud and in denial to admit that it pisses her off even in the slightest. Not even denial, she just straight up refuses to allow herself to be jealous or think about it. But Spike knows because he can read her like a book (soulmate stuff, and also I believe he has some empathy towards the Scoobies and can tell everything about them as a middle ground/ bystander.)

Some girl comes into the Magic Shop at night for some reason and interupts the Scoobies and Spike. She knows a lot about vampires, especially Spike, Angel and Dracula and is one of those girls who has the total hots for them and has a vampire bite fetish/ kink. Realizing it’s Spike after conversing with the Scoobies on some strange demon that chased her into the Magic Shop (which coincidentally will be the episode’s main antagonist or something) she totally freaks out and is coming onto him like crazy. She’s not super touchy and isn’t throwing herself on him, but she flirts with him very obviously in front of everyone and gushes about how much she’s read on them and other vampires. Spike, of course, is totally enjoying the attention and is hoping that it’s working as pay back for Buffy making him jealous at the party and other small moments (even if it’s not actually her idea or intention to make him jealous).

Immediately he notices her microreactions to the situation because as soon as the girl starts gushing about him his eyes are immediately on her to gage her reaction. Furrowing her brow a little, chewing her lip, talking fast or interjecting quickly, avoiding conversation topics or eye contact, staring them down when she thinks he isn’t noticing, crossing her arms or frantically finding tasks to distract her. He reads her like a book and to his pleasant surprise he knows how jealous she is and plays into it. He has no real intentions with the fangirl, he is already starting to find her a pest and secretly wishes he could snack on her instead, but the change of pace is fun and he’s enjoying seeing Buffy seethe over him (also the chip in his head). He does it just to prove to himself (and to her) that she does love him. Just a little.

Spike makes sure to catch Buffy’s eyes whenever the girl makes advances at him or is in his vicinity. It gets to a boiling point where Buffy will interupt the girl saying something to gush about her knowledge of Spike’s legend just so that she can one-up her, but has to quickly back down because the things she is about to say will reveal their relationship to her friends, and she’s still too worried to explain to any of them what she and Spike have been doing all season.

The girl continues essentially begging Spike to bite her and how she wants to be bitten by a vampire so bad, and he intentionally doesn’t tell her that he can’t bite her, just dragging it out with empty promises or pretending he’s too bashful to do it (even though he would, but not for her pleasure). Buffy almost slips up and brags that Spike can only bite her because of a chip in his head, but she’s only told Tara about that (and their relationship) so she just has to bite her lip and keep quiet.

Spike finds it extra amusing when she’s about to reveal herself to everyone and seeing her get frozen in place and nervous when she has to steer the topic again to keep from exposing their ‘little secret’. Everyone gets a little suspicious as it goes on, but no one really believes that Buffy would get with Spike still so they just drop it or rationalize it.

This goes on for a day or two before Buffy gets fed up and totally chews the girl up in private, scaring her off for a while. She tried to blow the steam off by going on extra patrols, really she did. (At least that’s what she’ll tell you). But, in a fit of pent-up rage and jealousy she barges into Spike’s crypt when he’s unsuspecting and of course they destroy the house again with their angry hate sex now mixed with the strength and determination of jealous!Buffy. Needless to say, it wasn’t just Buffy who had a trouble walking afterwards this time. (And it was definitely longer than 5 hours).

Naturally after releasing all of the tension, Buffy feels bad for going off on the poor girl and apologizes to her, but she goes back off to her own life regardless after defeating big-bad of the day. Spike then teases Buffy about it all the time, making subtle hints and remarks to it when they fight, and it makes her a little more aggravated every time because she knows he has her right where he wants her and she can’t have that—because she can’t have him. (Or so she believes).

Holy fuck im so feral for them. Me when the hyperfixation go so brrrr i cant help but come back a little while just to rant and be in fandom discussion. Guys..i might have to switch gears/ fandoms rn bc i cant bro AUGSJFNFKSKFN i could go on forever abt this show bro..and Spuffy. Sighhhh…Spuffy….

[disco-tea]

Society if Spuffy went canon in S5 and had an out in the open relationship Buffy could come to terms with so by the time S7 rolled around we could’ve gotten a scene of Trigger!Spike going on a rampage and Buffy needs to stop him so she kisses her fist before knocking him out cold

[seriesxwriting]

Buffy the vampire slayer Masterlist

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧)

[comradesummers]

the problem with watching buffy the vampire slayer for the first time when you're 13 is that it will fundamentally reshape your brain chemistry to the point where literally all fiction becomes buffy the vampire slayer in different fonts. "watch another show!" you might say, and believe me i have! i promise i've watched many other shows since i was 13. but the problem is that all those other shows as well as films, books, podcasts etc. are simply deviations of buffy the vampire slayer to me. it's the holy text, the primary source. everything else is just commentary.

[clarkgriffon]

Spike + Outfits

[no-resolution]

Honestly I've never seen a good argument for Buffy not loving Spike.

[evieelyzabethh]

Love your work. <3 Could you write something with reader x spike where they're kinda' pining for one another, but one night he gets injured and has to stay over at her house? She patches him up and maybe offers him a bite? Doesn't have to be nsfw but +5 cool points if it is. <3

Hello, my loves, long time no see!!! I hope this is to your liking <3

Spike is so incredibly reckless. You knew this, he knew, everybody knew that Spike was a walking accident waiting to happen'. He likes to think he can handle himself. "I'm bad, baby," he'd tell you, "M' the big bad slayer killer. I can handle a few scratches." But you were never worried about what he could handle, you were worried about the fact that his blood was always staining your couch. That and the fact that his lack of self-preservation kept you up at night.

Usually, he has some decorum. He doesn't come to you with every scrape and bruise, even though you handled him with much more care than he was capable of extending to himself. It was his way of punishing himself, depriving himself of your head scratches and soft hands for bothering you too much. You scolded him for this, of course. It seems like its every other week (more like every other day) when you and he argue, most often in front of the Scoobies who waited anxiously for you take your arguments to the bedroom, about him leaving you to worry about whether or not he was ash.

"I mean, fuck Spike. Is it really that hard to just give me a call if you plan on bleeding at your place. A little 'Hi, yeah, I don't think I need my wounds treated with modern medicine, I'm gonna take my chances with old whisky and tetanus like the good ol' days'." And every time he takes his well-earned lecture with a smirk and a bowed head.

"Yes, mother, next time I'll break your door down at three in the morning for some pretty pink bandages."

"If you were so ashamed of the pretty pink bandages, maybe you should think before you run into knives!"

Spike has maybe told the truth a grand total of two times in his whole life, so his word means absolutely nothing. He continues to ignore your street like the plague unless it's an absolute emergency.

Now was an emergency.

You barely heard the faint knocks on your door from your bedroom, where you sat on your bed, music blasting from your stereo and some reality court show droning on in the background, catching your attention when someone decided to be particularly messy. You had thought it was your neighbors blind dog scratching at your door again until something large and loud hit it. Quickly arming yourself with a frying pan, you crept to your door, tearing it open for a very injured Spike to nearly fall flat on your floor before he caught himself using your doorframe.

His left hand clutched at his bleeding side and he walked with a limp over to his couch which now had a plastic cover. His dead heart was touched.

"Aw, you were waiting for me, " he croaked out. He fell on his back, one of his hands falling over the side and his eyes closing as soon as his head at the pillow. His shirt had claw marks that were lined with blood and his duster had barely escaped the carnage, a few holes separate from the preexisting moth holes sticky with some supernatural substance.

"Have to be prepared when it comes to you." You patted his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and arouse some consciousness. "Can't have you fallin' asleep on me. You might not wake up." You weren't going to leave his side until you were sure he wasn't going to die in your absence.

He babbled unintelligently, his mouth moving but having no connection to his brain to form any sort of actual thought. His eyes flit between closed and aware, his head moving to catch up with the spinning room, his mouth impossibly dry, and his head pounding. In his head, he insisted he was fine, but the words wouldn't come out right. He spat them out garbled and messy until he was too choked up to even try anymore.

He was barely conscious when he felt your wrist at his mouth. He had enough sense to shake his head and nudge away your wrist with his nose, but his lack of strength made his attempts futile. "No," he mumbled.

"You'll feel better," your voice swam around in his head until the words lost meaning and he just smiled at the sound of your voice. You swiped your thumb across one of his canines, the red contrasting with the pearly whites of his teeth swiftly wiped away by the pink of his tongue. After the taste of your blood was on his tongue, his sense was surrendered to instinct as he brought your wrist to his lips.

You didn't know what you were getting into. Vampires get their life force from blood, so it just made sense to have him feed from you to expedite the healing process. The more he drank, the louder your heartbeat grew in your ear and the closer he pulled you to him. You had only done this once before, when you were both drunk and dizzy and jokes being whispered in your ear turned into tiny nips from your neck that Buffy nearly walked in on.

In complete shock of what had happened then, you never brought it up, halfway convincing yourself that it never happened in the first place. If it did happen, he had enough sense to pull away then and you hoped he had the sense the pull away now, but now was much different. Now, there was a newfound hunger. A desperation. Like he had been starving himself for years and you were the first bite of food he had eaten. Had to have been good food to, with the way he inhaled you, indulged in you like you were some ambrosia or golden mead.

"Spike," you moaned. "I'm getting a bit light-headed." Your voice was high and thin, fearful as you made attempts to pull your arm from his lips. Through his haze, his fangs contracted back, and his tongue swiped whatever lingered on your skin.

"I'm sorry." Sorry for going too far, sorry for almost turning you into an empty Capri Sun pouch, sorry for being reckless again.

" 's ok."

You wobbled a bit as you stood, fingers wrapped around your wound as you shuffled into your kitchen in pursuit of your first aid kit. "You gonna tell me what happened?" He only groaned from the couch.

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired." You laughed on your way over to him, wrist already covered in gauze with an all too familiar needle and thread in hand.

"You're tired?" The smell of your blood was all too pungent, still. He turned his head towards the wall, studying the numerous music posters and paintings you had hanging.

"Going out to fight evil is a very hard job." You chuckled.

"I know. That's why I stay in here to patch you up." Your fingers were like magic. They always had a way of calming him down. Especially the way you hummed to yourself while you worked. You were never content with just silence. "I expect an answer in the morning." He smiled.

"Yes, ma'am." He fell asleep before you even finished and by the time you were done, you were too tired to walk the down the hall to your bed. You laid your head down on his chest, with no heartbeat to thrum and no breath to rock you, you still fell asleep just like that. Who knew cold bodies were so comfortable.

[prose-for-hire]

Evol (or, a backwards love story)

Pairing: Spike x reader

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

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

Requested by: anon

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

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

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

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

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

“Got kinda turned around… I’m lost”

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

“What did we talk about Spike?”

“Too much?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Those losers are actually my friends”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime, pet”

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

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

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

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

“Spike! Spike, wait-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drink, pet?”

“Please”

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

“EVOL? I think it’s spelt-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[iwritefandomimagines]

SILVER HAIR AND MELODRAMA — SPIKE (BTVS)

masterlist

pairing: spike (btvs) x reader [modern au]

description: spike begins to regret buying the games console currently residing in your room when you develop a slight obsession with baldur’s gate 3 and one character in particular. now, he’s finding himself jealous of a pixelated blonde british vampire.

warnings: this is a bit silly but i couldn’t get the idea out of my head lol, bit of swearing, bg3 spoilers maybe for astarion, suggestive themes at the end, it’s also pretty short n sweet

author’s note: I’M BACK BABY! was plagued with this idea so had to write it. please let me know what you think and if you want more spike fics (or some astarion hehe). not sure how i feel about this bc it’s been unfinished for so long but hopefully you like it!!!

———

“Oh bloody hell, again?”

You turned to peer at your boyfriend who had just climbed into your window, watching him lean against the sill with a pout on his face.

You paused briefly to shoot him a smile, before turning back to pause the game and engage in full conversation with him.

“Listen babe, you bought me the Xbox,” you hummed teasingly, “You basically encouraged this. And you got back just in time for the next Astarion romance scene!”

He scoffed, “Oh gee golly, lucky me.”

You laughed, shaking your head with a roll of your eyes, “C’mon sourpuss, come sit down.”

Reluctantly, he made his way over the couch and sat himself down beside you, momentarily softening as you leaned into him before huffing again when you resumed play.

“Can barely remember the time when I used to climb in through your bedroom window and be met with kisses ‘n’ love,” he tutted, “Now I’m competing for your attention with a bloody cluster of pixels on a screen.”

“Hey, no competition,” you shook your head, pressing a kiss to his temple before sticking out your tongue teasingly, “Not much, anyway.”

He scoffed, “What d’you even see in the bloke? He’s all silver hair and melodrama.”

It was your turn to scoff now, looking across at him with eyes that practically screamed ‘are you kidding?’ as he rolled his.

“My hair is blonde,” he folded his arms over with a grunt, “And I am so not melodramatic.”

You reached out to rub his forearm, “And yet here you are in a strop because I fancy a cluster of pixels on a screen.”

In that moment, your screen showed a small exclamation mark atop Astarion’s head at camp.

You giggled as you folded your legs so they were crossed and sat up straight to start the dialogue with your favourite character.

“Bloody shameless,” Spike narrowed his eyes, “Gettin’ all hot for him when I’m right here!”

Nudging him slightly, you let out a small laugh, “I am not getting hot for him! I’m just enjoying my game and happen to have a type.”

“Oi!”

Throughout the game conversation, and the romantic cutscene that followed, Spike spent the whole time continuing to grumble and making fun of things Astarion would say.

“Who’s this evil fella he’s whining about,” he gestured towards the screen after Astarion mentioned his desire to defeat his master Cazador, “and why don’t you fancy him instead if he’s so big and bad?”

“I’m assuming you’re saying that because you still consider yourself a big bad, babe,” you chuckled, “So can I remind you that pre-soul evil you… I was so not interested in.”

He gasped, “Hey! I could still be a big bad if I wanted to. And you so were interested in me. I saw you always giving me googly eyes and all that.”

“Googly eyes?”

“Lookin’ at me all like you wanted to either marry me or rip my clothes off,” he smirked, running his tongue over his teeth, “Not that I’d have minded either way, love.”

You’d paused your game now, eyes fixated on your boyfriend, who was matching your gaze intently.

“Well I’m not blind,” you discarded your controller and crawled into his lap, the game music quietly ongoing in the background as his arms curled around you and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Well you fancy this silly video game bloke so your taste ain’t all that good, love.”

You peered up at him, “He’s a blonde — fine, silver haired—British vampire, with a satisfying redemption arc, a good heart deep down and a pretty face to top all that off.”

Spike seemed thoughtful for a moment, his eyes narrowed as he pulled you tighter to his chest, “He’s not even a proper vampire!”

“For someone who hates him so much, you’ve paid a lot of attention to his storyline, baby,” you teased.

He grunted, “Gotta size up the competition, duh.”

You giggled as you leaned up to nip at his jawline with soft kisses, showering him with the affection his silly jealousy seemed to have left him craving, “Like I said, he’s not real and not competition.”

Spike hummed in appreciation, hand curling tighter around your waist as he tilted his head down to capture your lips with his.

You matched the feverish passion immediately, hands curling around his neck as you shifted to straddle him now.

He pulled back for just a second, pouring like a petulant child, “See, I’m the one you should be gettin’ all flustered for. It’s only me who gets to actually make you feel like this.”

Your cheeks stained crimson at his words, lashes fluttering up at him as his warm breath fanned over your face and his hands moved down to cup your thighs close to him.

“You are, you idiot,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his lips, “It is.”

“Mhm, you can forget about Asterix or whatever his bloody name is,” the skirt you were wearing was completely ridden up now, his hand underneath it and palming the soft flesh of your thigh, “Wastin’ your time playing that game when you’ve got me here to take care of you.”

You laughed, “Need I remind you that I was playing it ‘cause you weren’t here. And it’s Astarion.”

“Ah so you’re replacing me with the pixel bloke, huh,” the teasing in his tone was still tinged with with a little tint of jealousy, “Go do good for five minutes and you need to get your rocks off watching animated you getting it on with an animated vampire.”

You shook your head, “Stop making this weird you jealous idiot,” another chuckle escaped your parted lips as you leaned over to turn the Xbox off.

“Jealous? Pfft.”

“It’s a game,” you hummed against his jawline, now pressing kisses along it again and down the length of his throat, “But this isn’t.”

Your hands brushed down the expanse of Spike’s back, gripping his t-shirt and removing it in one swift motion as he raised his arms and smirked at you.

Returning his hands to your thighs, it was his turn to laugh, “Oh I know that, sweet thing.”

Your lips met again, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed you like he really did need to show you he was better and more important than the silly crush you had on your favourite character.

He scooped you up, carrying you over to your bed quickly and gently placing you down on the bed beneath him, climbing over you immediately.

Your hands flew up to his bare chest, hooking round his neck to pull him back in for a kiss.

He smirked into the kiss, withdrawing his head for just one second as he began to unbutton your blouse, “That’s my girl.”

You loved how possessive Spike could be. How obsessed he was with showing you how he felt about you and just how much he’d do to make it known you were his.

“I love you, Spike,” you smiled, breathlessly mumbling the words as his hands kept you close to him.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied between kisses, pausing for a moment to shake his head as he remembered the previous conversation that had led you here.

“And I still don’t know what you see in him!”

“Would you just shut up and kiss me?”

———

this has been in my drafts unfinished for SOOO long and i’m still not happy with it. but i hope you enjoyed — PLEASE request some more spike fics, i love writing spike so much !!! in the meantime, here is my masterlist <3

[tenderjock]

BUFFY: i can be meaner. if you'd like?? companion(ish) to this

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Finding Peace Pt.5: Not Yet (Spike x Y/N)

Requested: nope. Part 5 of the multi fic.

Summary: Self-deprecation can be ahard habit to break. Especially when lobe was just mere miles away.

TW: Mentions of alcohol and drinking. Mentions of rough s e x.

Word count: 1.7k

Previous | Next

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If his body wasn't cold, steam would be rolling off it. Kiss after kiss. Grope after grope. Spike couldn't get enough. He knew it was wrong. He knew it wasn't real, but he needed it. Buffy was rough and demanding in her lovemaking, if you could call it that. She threw Spike around as if boneless and limp. She focused on meeting her needs without regard to Spike or his feelings. Spike held on and let himself be dominated. Even for a moment, he felt loved.

After Buffy has had her fill, she leaves Spike spent and tired. He knew she would return later this week. He knew it wasn't the touch that he craved, but it was the touch he deserved. Though a hopeless romantic, he couldn't fathom real love. He was immersed in a world of pain and destruction, and that is all he deserved. Unless... it was with y/n. With her time stopped. He was whole. A man. With her, there was partnership and laughter. With her, there was something he didn't deserve but desperately craved.

He got dressed and ready to pick her up. It was just another night of hunting. Buffy and Y/n decided to divide and conquer instead of working together. Buffy kills vampires, and y/n kills demons. Their decision to go their separate ways meant that Spike had to make time for both, being degraded and then being valued. Honestly, he preferred the latter.

He strolled down to y/n's house, ready to be by her side. He wanted to enjoy her scent, her presence, and her kindness. He promised to knock on the door instead of barging in, so he complies. Two knocks, and he waits.

You open the door, greeting him in your bathrobe. Spike is taken aback. "A bit early, am I?"

You chuckle, "no. I forgot to tell you yesterday. I'm taking the day off today. I want to rest."

Spike is crestfallen. You resting was good for your health but bad for his heart. This meant he wouldn't get time by your side.

"Oh... well... alright then. I'll see you..." He tries to hide his disappointment.

"I didn't say you had to leave."

A smile trails his face. "What do you have planned?" He said leaning against your doorframe.

"Well," you pondered, "you owe me a dance..." You grin.

He sighs, feigning annoyance when, in fact, he's been dreaming of the chance to hold you again. "Fine."

You invite him in. "Wait here. Let me change."

He sits on the couch. He takes in the scent of your home. It was you enveloping him, welcoming him. He could get used to this. To be in your space was to be at peace.

You come out in a flowy sundress. He forgets that he has no breath and feels a loss of air. As if the sight of you could bring him back to life. He stands up quickly.

"Darling, you are a vision."

You blush, "it's just an old dress."

He smiles softly as he approaches you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You lock eyes, and time stops.

You catch the faint smell of Buffy on his skin. The smell of leather, dirt, and cigarette masks it well. You remind yourself of your friendship. There's nothing more. You remind yourself to breathe.

"Where do we start?" He whispers.

"Let's move some furniture and I'll get some tunes off my phone."

You work together to make space in the living room. You find a generic watlz Playlist, and you take your places in the center of the room.

Spike feels nervous and silly. He has waltzed many times but never with anyone of interest. Here you were, his friend waiting for his touch, his guidance.

He places his left hand on your back and holds your left hand with his right, and it felt like it's the first time he has been touched. You hold his hand firmly and place your other hand on his shoulder. It felt right.

The music starts. Soft. He guides your body, and you follow. Your turn and sway to the music, feeling the ebb and flow of your bodies. Synchronicity and attunement. You were a unit, inseparable.

Spike looked into your eyes, swimming for his life. He recognized something in them. Something he didn't deserve.

You locked eyes with Spike. A smile painted on your face. This was the moment you wished for. It felt like peace. It felt like the end of your journey. You wondered how you could use this moment to break your curse, but it was far too weak to take over a 1,000 year old curse. Nevertheless, it was perfect. It's been so long since you've been able to rest.

"Does this please you, love?" Spike asked as you both danced.

You nodded, "It reminds me of the last time I danced. It's been so long."

"Thinking of another man while in my arms, you dirty bird?" He smirked

You laugh, "No. I'm thinking of how good it felt. Dancing is very relaxing."

"So, no man comes to mind?" He asks, a little jealousy in his voice.

"Oh, yeah. One man. A British guy, poet, auburn hair, with glasses. A sweet man with beautiful eyes. Too shy for my taste but definitely a prize." You mused much to Spike's disdain.

"Sounds like a pratt." He said through his teeth.

You laugh, big and full. "He was a crush for the moment. Someone to dream a future with. Even though I knew it was impossible, he made me feel free." You made sure to dig in on your remarks. Part of you knew that this was your getback for Spike sleeping with Buffy. If he had her, why couldn't you at least have your memories.

Spike did a mistep causing you to fall into him. Your face against his chest, his hands catching your body. You both still. You raise your face. You're mere inches from his face. Lips, almost gracing. Your breath hitches in your chest. Spike looks down at you intrigued at your next move.

"Did he ever hold you like this?" He whispered.

"No..."

Time stops, and you feel like melting into him. So close and yet so far. You knew better, but at this moment, all that mattered was what he tasted like. At the same time, you wanted to ask if it felt like this when he held Buffy. The thought pushed you away from the moment. You straightened and stepped away.

"Do you want water?" You walk into the kitchen.

Spike smacks his forehead. What was he doing? What did he want? He follows you into the kitchen. "Got any booze?"

"Oh, it's that kind of party?" You giggle.

You bring out different types of liquers and beers. "Pick your poison."

"Shots and then drinks."

You pour two shots. You both pick it up and clink your drinks before drinking it. You both sigh at the bitterness of the spirit.

You share a bottle of wine. A bittersweet red. Something that reminded Spike of blood.

"Thank you. That was fun." You break the silence.

Spike grins, "Anytime, love. It's been awhile. Sorry for stopping abruptly." He says in between sips of the wine.

You nod not knowing how to address his reaction to you talking about a past love. You didn't know how to communicate how much you loved his reaction, or the fact that he held you that close.

Spike becomes aware of Buffy's scent on him. Embarrassment takes over. He hoped that you didn't notice. How could he knock boots with Buffy and then run into your arms? You deserved respect. He made a mental note to shower next time.

You both drank the night away. Chatting and connecting. You share laughter and playful touches. The touches lingered with time. Personal space was non-existent. By the end of the night, you were cuddling on your couch. You were sleepy, and your words slurred, which made you giggle more. Spike watched attentively and committed every smile and sigh to memory.

"The sun is about to raise, love." He mentioned.

You stirred in his arms, "Already?"

He held you close, taking in the scent of your hair. "Yes, love." He hated the idea of moving, but he knew this wasn't his scene. Not yet.

You both, slowly, part. You miss his body, and he misses yours. You both slowly get up, wordless.

"Are you staying?" You ask silently.

"Not tonight, love." He hated himself for that answer.

"I understand." You mask the disappointment in your voice.

He walks to your kitchen and comes back with a cup of water. " 'm not leaving 'till you drink it."

"Then I'm never drinking it." You smile as you take the cup.

He smiles, big, and full. "Cheeky."

You finish the water and set the cup down on your coffee table. You walk Spike to the door. "Thank you again. You're the best friend I've ever had."

Spike is taken aback by your compliment. He basks in it. "Anything for you, love." He leans in and kisses her cheek. He turns and walks away before you can react.

You place a hand where his lips were. You felt lightheaded, but you didn't know if it was the alcohol or Spike's affection.

Spike walked fast-paced but happy all the way to his crypt. He pondered his actions tonight. He went fom degradation to...dare he say it? Not yet. He wanted time to bask in the effects of tonight. The sensations. The scents. He wanted to capture tonight into his being forever. Never had he had such intimacy, so much vulnerability. All ready for the picking, but not yet. He had much to offer but not enough to be loved by her, or so he told himself. He didn't deserve it. Not yet. Someday, soon, he will be able to bypass the degradation and the self-mutilation that is his rendezvous with Buffy. On that day, he will be good enough, whatever that means, for y/n... but not yet. So, until then, he had pain, destruction, and tonight's memory to keep him afloat.

[disco-tea]

Anyway, kinder S7 where because of Dawn and Buffy, Spike is always hanging around the high school, usually with Dawn because something is always trying to kill/kidnap/sacrifice her or whatever. Or sometimes he’s just there to pick Dawn up or see Buffy or help with whatever’s going on. And the other students think he’s the campus drug dealer because he looks like the campus drug dealer and they think Dawn is either buying drugs or comes from a drug dealing family. And of course, Spike isn’t dealing drugs, but students keep asking him for drugs, and he’s not above selling them some oregano for laughs.