#had a similar sitch happen today like i wasn’t mean but it felt good

[girlrry]

Mary I finally popped off on my coworker today and it felt amazing (had to keep it work friendly tho lol)

slay!!!!!!

[prose-for-hire]

Love, Hate, Love: Part three

Part One // Part Two

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

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

Originally requested by: @therapieliteratur​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had always hated to see you cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“How can you even begin to defend-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which was why this was going to be so hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he stilled your hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No mere dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

William.

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

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

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

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

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

[hesymbolized]

a public service announcement- or more accurately, a state of the vesta announcement.

as always, a preface to note that i am more than aware that i owe explanation to no one. that’s a fact carved into the bedrock of the society at large in whick we live. suggesting otherwise is frankly a massive red flag in my book, as it reeks of attempts at emotional manipulation. i’m a lot of things- good, bad, in between- but trying to push me by those means is something life has made me immune to. that said...

i think we can all agree that this year has been an absolute shit show. and it is taking a toll on the best of us. but, as is obvious if you know me well and/or have been following me since i first decided to tackle steve- or further back still- you likely would have noted my absence. (or you figured i’d vanished into a new fandom and you missed my self promo...) fact is, i actually have been absent.

cut for a series of potential triggers- if you have any triggers about abuse, mental health, general health, or addiction, proceed with caution or avoid entirely.

i was going to carefully write the whole series of events out, but it was becoming a russian novel length, and that’s just silly. so lets just bullet point, shall we?

in a span of approx four weeks, i spent several days in state mandated detox. twice. 

but vesta, how’d you manage that? funny you should ask.

i’m an addict. six months in a rehab in the boondocks of new hampshire sorted me out. i had 14 years under my belt. i worked impossibly hard for every day of it. and while the work was hard, eventually it just became habit. 

so...relapse? yeah. in the middle of those 14 years, i traded substance abuse for emotional and physical abuse at the hand of my now ex boyfriend. i didn’t relapse when i hid in my bathtub because even his looking in my direction felt like a threat. i didn’t relapse when i had a miscarriage- something i never would have known had my ex ever asked whether i wanted his cock anywhere near me. he never asked. he just took. and when i got home from the hospital, devastated and in pain, sobbing under the covers because our apartment was so small there wasn’t a lot of spaces i felt were safe, my ex booted up his computer to find out when i could have sex again. 

a series of interventions between my friendsand family gave me the sense of self worth enough to kick him out. and i was supposed to be free to finally do things i wanted to do, better myself, go back to school maybe.

and that’s where the stalking started. i had moved from salem, ma down to my hometown, sarasota, fl. he followed me. he’d bombard me, and then find new and creative ways to get around the fact i blocked him over and over. none of the platforms he used to do so- everything from facebook to fanfiction.net- would help me. i was this horrible mix of shame and fear, and i have no one to really talk about it with- i never told my parents it was happening- just mentioning the bastard’s name was enough to send my parents into a paranoid frenzy about my safety.

some of his messages were pleas for me to forgive him and move back in with him. the rest were a very pointed attack, using every single thing he knew i feared or was afraid of.

it came to a head between november and december, i could barely sleep for the nightmares. the anxiety about the random appearances in my inbox and panic about how he was agoing to attack me next caused a cascade of additional problems. around thanksgiving, i all but stopped eating. my appetite has not returned, still. and finally, i broke. 

my family was out of town. i was alone, and unwilling to burden anyone else with my problems. i was so desperate to make everything be quiet and still and the one thing that always made it quiet and still was to get blackout drunk.

they say if you relapse, you don’t get a reset button. you pick up where you left off, or worse.

it was worse. in two weeks or so i spent several days scared out of my mind in detox. i lost my job. an ambulance had to becalled to take me to the hospital- i have no memory whatsoever of that night- and after a few hours, the hospital discharged me. onto the street. with no shoes or phone. i walked barefoot from the hospital home. it’s a 15 minute car ride. i don’t know how long it took me- i have scraps of memory of that part of the evening. i’m actually pretty sure that it was some kind of illegal for the hospital to do that, but...

so rehab again. there’s this sort of stigma around the idea of someone becoming institutionalized. i’ll admit, i always found it a little pathetic or sad. it’s very different when it’s you, desperate to stay just a little longer. if i could have? i’d still be there. 

but crona hit, and i came home.

the opposite side of the coin here is that i was able to get a job almost immediately. no interview. just a come in to fill paperwork, and got handed keys to the store.  furthermore, they’re training me to be a pharmacy technition. i just started the courses today.

and even more importantly, on a whim, and without intention, i picked up online classes and started...going to school...again? this is massive for me- i dropped out of collage after a series of events so similar to the ones mentioned above that i refuse to review them again. i  had a loose plan to go back, but i fell into full time at barnes and noble, and weeks became months, then years, and i had kind of concluded that i was going to be trapped in retail forever. tricking myself into it is probably the only way i would have been able to do it- today was finals for the courses i’d picked up. i  haven’t gotten to the end of an attempt at education since high school- and i only did that by the skin of my teeth, too.

anyway. the long and short- i do try to be around here, but i’m actively taking classes, working extra hours at work to have time for training courses, and focusing on my physical health- my skin has never been so clear, i’ve lost about 60lbs, i’m in school again with a pretty clear view of what i want to accomplish. i’m making admittedly skittish efforts to try to find someone that i could do date like things with. we’ll see. 

so that’s the sitch. i genuinely appreciate everyone’s patience with me, and the support that’s so generously been offered. i adore you all. ♥- v