#spike drabble

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Finding Peace Pt.2: Smooth Operator (Spike x y/n)

Request: no. Part 2 of the Multi fic

Warning: None.

Summary: Spike finds out about your secret. He is enraged and hurt. He is seeking within himself what to do.

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In the back a figure appears. Darkness consumes their silhouette. He picks a table in the back, away from the multitude of people. He spots her at a distance.

He scowls at her. Watching her dance in the crowd of the Bronze enraged him.  So carefree and distant. He felt like a fool for trusting her. Y/n if that was even your real name. 

He remembered the past with disdain. He was attentive to your words. Watchful of your needs. He listened when you spoke of past loves. He imagined what your life had been when you mentioned you were an orphan. He was there with you. He drank every word as if it were the only sustenance he needed. When you came into his world, found you working for Giles at the Magic Box he became enthralled with your voice. Attentive of your clumsy movements that contrasted your sharp knowledge of demons and the metaphysical. All a rouse. 

How naive he has gotten to have believed that you simply waltzed into his life. What a rube. No one that delightful, funny, and focused could exist without their own secret. 

He was disgusted by her flippant attitude after being discovered. He was even more disgusted that The Scoobies had welcomed her in so readily. However, he did note that Buffy was weary of y/n. How could she not? Another slayer. I’m sorry, a cursed slayer. 

A nearly 1,000 year old slayer cursed by a powerful witch for killing her vampire lover. Who could make this up? Now there is 3 slayers, all varying degrees of fucked up. 

He couldn’t figure out if he was more upset that she lied to him or that she believed he couldn't be trusted. Granted, they had just met. However, they spent 3 months of pure friendly bliss. The banter, laughter, teasing, the knowing glances... all for nothing. 

He was evil, yes, and he wasn't all too honest but she crossed a line. She blatantly became someone else. He understood why. Explaining her past did sound like an acid trip and she did need to keep a low profile to permit slayers step into their power without depending on her. Nevertheless, she hurt him. He thought they were friends! He thought she understood him! No. She pretended. She played him. 

He is cognizant that he omitted his true nature. Downplayed his vampy-ness, but that's neither here nor there. He was mad at her. She damaged him, just like all the rest. 

He watched her move her body with the music. Hips moving steady like a trance. The crowd molded with her permitting her to disappear and become one with the throng of sweaty bodies. He hated it. How could she have so much fun with these mortals? More pretending he guessed. 

He is caught off guard as he watches her walk up to him. 

"Wanna dance?" Y/n's breath is rushed. She is out of air from dancing.

Spike scoffs. "With you? Pass."

She tilts her head; a small smile plays on her lips. "Still mad, huh?"

His lips purse. Anger bubbling in his stomach. He wants to swear at her, grab her by the neck, whisper a threat or two. But he recollects himself, slightly. "This ain't my scene and neither are you."

"Just one song. A slow dance. Give me a chance to explain." She leans in hoping to persuade him. 

"Buzz off." He turns and walks away. 

Y/n is left alone at the table. Smile on her face, tears in her eyes. She decides to go back to the dance floor. 

She understands how she hurt Spike, but she had no choice. Being a cursed slayer was taboo. It brings so much baggage to have to be acknowledged and seen by others. 2 slayers was a problem, now 3 is chaos. Her role is to watch from a distance. Only offer guidance when there is no watcher, or the slayer has gone rogue. Y/n is good at hiding and pretending. Sometimes, like this time, she gets caught and that opens a can of worms. 

In the past her existence has been a source of shock and contention but never of a broken heart. Spike, her dear friend whom she became close to in the last 3months was now battling his own demons in regards to her. She hurt him by lying. She swore by her story, demonstrated genuineness and transparency. All for it to be a charade. 

She pondered how to make it up to him when he wouldn’t give her the time of day... err night. She missed him. His cheeky comments, his smile, the underlying big bad persona, everything. 

The lights dim, the tempo lowers. A slow song. Smooth operator by Sade. She looks back, hoping to make eye contact with Spike. A last invitation. He was nowhere to be seen. 

He's loved in seven languages

Defeated, she walks back to her table with the Scobie’s only to be grabbed by the arm. She's being pulled towards the dance floor. Ready for a fight she whips back only to see Spike. Before she can say anything he guides her hands to the back of his neck, and he places his hands on her hips. They start to sway to the song. 

Diamond life, lover boy

"Well, explain..." Spike says. 

She's taken aback by his words, "um, well... first off, I’m sorry I lied but I had to." A minute passes. They are locking eyes but no words are being exchanged. 

No place for beginners or sensitive hearts

Y/n feels self-conscious. Something that has rarely happened in the almost 1,000 year she has lived. She looks down.

"I was protecting you guys" she starts up again. "I have never met a slayer with friends. It has a different dynamic. More people to account for. I was afraid my reputation would damage what Buffy had, and by proxy, it would hurt you." She looked up again. His eyes never leaving her face. 

"You lied to protect me?" He mocked. "Love, you knew I was the big bad and still you toyed with me."

He's a smooth operator

"Don't start. You did not tell me what you really were. And I was not toying with you. I was trying to keep distance between us."

"Distance, eh? "

She sighed. It seemed hopeless to get him to see her side. She pulled away, hoping to leave things as they were but his hold was strong. She stayed put.

His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold

"What did you think of me, of us?" He questioned her. 

The question threw her off. She stammered. He became irritated. She knew that the only way to get his trust back was to be honest. To do that, she would have to sacrifice her pride. 

"I like you. You're a solid friend. I do not care that others think you're no good, I can see the light in you. And us? I thought we made a decent team, much to everyones dismay."

Smooth operator

He felt giddy. He never had a friend. Someone that valued him. Someone that saw him as he is. 

He mulled her words over, carefully. He assented and pulled her closer. She stilled in his arms for a moment before returning to their sway. 

"I'll allow it. Lie to me again and you'll regret it."

She chuckled knowing his threat was pointless and fake. 

Smooth operator

[kinichval]

when ifa casually, innocently, dropped an "and that's why i like you" after you solved a dilemma in the clinic, your heart did three consecutive backflips and your mind went haywire.

it wasn't a "yeah, that makes more sense, bro." or something platonic that cacucu might've already added to his little vocabulary, so it sounded different from his usual commentaries. and of course, you notice the subtle shift of his tone and words, and of course, you alleged some kind of meaning behind those—something you hope to go beyond the platonic boundaries.

except it's april first and you're not so sure if he's riding the bandwagon or if there's genuinely an underlying thought.

"you alright, bro? you've been zoning out since we closed the clinic."

great, now his handsome face is right in front of you, at eye-level and just a kiss away!

"y-yeah." you mumble, dropping your gaze down to where your hands scamper to pretend to be occupied. then he giggles, mentally you curse him out.

"since we wrapped up early today, do you wanna grab dinner with me?"

excuse me, what?

"romantically, i'm asking you out on a date; it's not a prank. i actually do like you, and i've been—"

and so, you kiss him.

[maxlarens]

lando + 18 😛

18) squishing the other’s cheek

You can feel the beat of the music in your veins like another heartbeat as Lando drags you through the packed crowd. He's got a grip on your hand like someone's about to tear you away from him, or the crowd is going to swallow you whole. Which doesn't seem likely to happen, given the force with which you're also holding his hand.

He looks back at you, teeth worrying away at his lip, like you might have been replaced by someone else without letting go of him.

"What's wrong?", you shout, getting closer to him so he can hear you over the ditz ditz of the music and the cacophony of voices in the club.

He shakes his head, keeps dragging you, heading in the direction of the bar. He's moving fast and you're stumbling along a bit, spilling the drink you've got in your other hand. You're four or so drinks deep so your balance and coordination isn't as good as you'd like it to be.

"Lando," you shout again, "Slow down. I'm spilling my drink everywhere."

He stops, so suddenly and with so little warning that you thump right into the back of him. Your face hits his spine, you feel cartilage crunching as your nose goes numb and tears involuntarily spring to your eyes.

Fucking ow.

"What the fuck," you're saying as he blurts out,

"You still have that drink?", frantic, panicked in a way you don't hear from him often, "Have you drank any? Tell me if you've had any?"

You've got your hand on the bridge of your nose, trying to quell the tingling feeling spreading through it and hoping it doesn't start bleeding. You frown, meeting your friend's concerned, almost angry expression with an equally as confused one.

"Lando. What are you talking about?"

"Have you had any?"

You shake your head adamantly, something a little sick, a little worried starting to creep into the pit of your stomach, "No. No, I haven't. Why?"

He releases a ragged breath that has his shoulders sagging in relief, but sets your heart rate spiking. You shake your head less in frustration, more because you're not quite sure what he's trying to tell you. You put your drink down on a nearby table, throw a napkin in it for good measure.

"Lando," you press, grabbing his bicep to keep his attention on you as it keeps drifting off into the crowd while he searches for something, "What's going on?'

He opens his mouth, closes it, then guides you into an out of the way corner, tucked behind a booth. Then he says, "I– there was some weird guy before. Like, leering at you, or whatever. I just thought—”

“—you think he spiked my drink?”, you ask, your heart beating a skittering, nervous rhythm in your chest.

Lando nods, lips pursed into a thin line.

“He’s gone now,” he reassures you, “I think. I can’t see him anywhere.”

Your chest feels tight with something— with many somethings. Fear, relief, panic, gratitude. You’ve been introduced to a problem and then had it resolved all in a very quick span of time. Your brain is still playing catch up. There’s music thudding in your ears, Lando’s looking at you like you might turn to dust right in front of him, your nose hurts, your head is spinning from the alcohol, your skin is prickling from the stare of a man who you hope isn’t there anymore.

It’s too much. So you gather it all up in a ball and you throw it away. You take a half step forward and squeeze Lando into the biggest hug you can manage. A little overwhelmed by your affection for him, but unable to throw that away so readily.

You’ve pinned the tops of his arms to his side with the force of the hug and you can feel his hands grappling for you, grabbing at your waist as he tries to hug you back. You press your temple into his cheek, your still tender nose into a groove at his collarbone.

“You’re sweet,” you mutter.

Affection for Lando, unbridled and made worse by alcohol, rises into your throat. You groan into his shoulder, squeeze him even tighter.

“Christ,” he squeaks out a nervous laugh.

You reel back, letting him loose of the crushing hug and sliding your hands to grip his shoulders. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. A strangled noise slips from your mouth, eliciting a raise of Lando’s eyebrows while you reach up to squish his cheeks in between your hands.

“Oh, fuck off,” he groans, but it comes out muffled and incomprehensible as he swats at your hands— not making any real attempt at trying to push them away.

He’s trying not to smile at you, but his toothy little grin punches through chubby cheeks regardless.

“So cute,” you laugh.

His cheeks grow warm under your hands. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, tugging you away.

“I was worried,” he sighs, “And don’t call me cute.”

“I know,” you bite down on a grin, “Thank you Lan, really.”

His tongue moves to worry at his incisor, he’s fighting the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Intentionally not looking at you.

“Don’t call me cute,” he says again, tipping his head back and exposing the line of his neck so he doesn’t have to look you in the eye.

You snort indelicately, then coo, reaching out to pinch his face, “Aw, is that too much for little Lando Norris?”

“God,” he groans loudly, trying hard to pretend he’s not enjoying whatever this is, “You’re so annoying.”

“You love it, Lando.”

“Fuck off,” but there’s no heat in it, only affection.

[prettypinksusi]

addictive kisses ♡

kissing him was just as addicting as the cigarettes he’d smoke. everything just felt so real, so good. the way he’d push his tounge into your mouth, have his hand squeezing your thigh. he was too addictive. the way he would look after you both break the kiss all out of breath, him panting for air. his hair all messy and falling in his eyes. damn, he was such a good kisser.

AKI HAYAKAWA, spike spiegel, vinsmoke sanji, fraken stein, ren honjo, yami sukehiro, ++any of ur favs who smoke! ༄

[roselynnthornwood]

"Alive Again"

Buffy hadn’t felt alive since she’d been raised from the dead— until now. The cool marble against her back, the night air raising goosebumps over her bare skin, Spike’s hard body against her and inside her, all worked together to awaken that dim spark of life within her, just for a moment. His fingers indulged that post-slay down-low tickle Faith could never get her to admit to, bringing her as close to heaven as she could get. Well, unless those teeth nibbling adoringly at her neck decided they wanted more…but that wouldn’t be so bad, Buffy thought. Would it?

Find the author everywhere upon the Internet!

Art by @dreadart

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[silvers-smut-memes]

Your Muse has put something in my muse's drink or given them something with adverse effects. Send in "Spiked Drink" and one effect listed below for my muse to feel it.

Complience

Breast/Penis/Ass Growth

Aphrodisiac

Wasted

Sleep

Truth Serum

Fertility

Lactation

Cum Production

Heat Up

Feel free to add details and remember to specify muses. May add to the list in the future.

[tr45hy45h]

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT!!IMAGINE SPIKE COMING HOME FROM A MESSIVE FIGHT WITH A BUNCH OF DEMONS AND HES SO ANGRY WITH HIMSELF AND HE JUST TAKES IT OUT ON YOU

Ok so hear me out!!

Spike comes home from after fighting a bunch of demons with angel and he's just so mad for some reason and when he comes home you ask him what's wrong.and he replys "just had a long day..not in the mood to talk right now m' love" (IN HIS BRITISH ACCENT HOLY MOTHER OF GOD 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️) and you tell him to take the anger out on you.

And he does,he fucks you over and over again going for the rest of the night..and he finishes you off by eating you out because you've been such a good girl for him <3

Just was just a random smut drabble I just really love spike 🥹🫶🏻

IF THERES ANYONE THAT WANTS TO REQUEST ANYTHING PLEASE DO 🫶🏻🫶🏻(I think this fandoms dead 😰😰)

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Ocean Eyes

You have been watching him for quite some time. Whenever you see him walking around the common areas you can't help but look. You see him doing mundane little tasks and you just....stare. You can't stop staring at those ocean eyes. The way they sparkle in the sunshine and the way you're sure they'd glow in the darkness. Some days they're a light icy blue, others they're dark, clouded, those are the days when he doesn't want anyone staring into his eyes. The days when his eyes have seen things he can never forget, burning cities and napalm skies, fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes.

When he sees so much pain and suffering, when he carries it and takes it home with him. Your only wish, your only want in life, is to be waiting for him. To be there when he comes home and to be his home. To comfort him, to hold him, to take all his pain away. To wipe the tears from his ocean eyes. But you're not there, you're not his home and you never will be.

It's not fair. He really knows how to make you cry when he gives you those ocean eyes. When he looks at you and you melt. All you want is him. You're scared. You've never fallen from quite this high. But here you were, flying through the air. Falling into his ocean eyes. Some days, some days they really did look like oceans, everything crashing around. His pain splashing against his pupils like waves against jagged rocks. You wanted to dive into them and get lost, get washed away into him. Into those ocean eyes.

You've been walking through a world gone blind. Blind to the suffering. Blind to everything that has been going on outside of their own little bubble. Blind to the real world, to the truth. You can't stop thinking of his diamond mind, clear. He isn't blind to anything because he sees it every day. He feels it all the time. He feels it forever. Careful creature made friends with time. Time was something that everyone else took for granted, but he didn't. He knew what it was like to lose time. He left her lonely with her own diamond mind, all those years ago. He knew the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, he knew it too well. All the time he had seen pass by, with those ocean eyes.

No fair. He really knew how to make you cry when he gave you those ocean eyes. One look in his eyes on a bad day and, you're scared. You've never fallen from quite this high and you were scared to fall into those ocean eyes. Falling hard and fast, straight into those ocean eyes.

Tags:

Marvel

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @justhereforthememesnangst @lonely-core @leloishere @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @marcelinethe-vampire-queen

X-Men

@thegirlsmorgue @1dluver13xx @beeeoop @waffle-wolf-666 @clownp33 @california-boys-and-sun @starsaroundmyscarsblog @kds1999 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @karaishotgirl @aliljaybird @burningcatcollectorsblog-blog @summer200baby @hanahaki-garden @dr3adful-lust @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno

Doctor Who

@codex-arcene @skarkkie @annie-does-art @colorfulmusicgardener @huntersroses @meryuniverse @craftytacopiecash @pinkthick @aliljaybird @charliesart16 @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @gwynfahr

Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Angel

@pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @thesimppotato11 @vixyl7 @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno

[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….

[fishyvamp]

I'm trying to be normal and not post my unhinged thoughts too much, but I've got Trapper and his Brat (reader) in my head with Brat on top pegging the big guy in front of a mirror and he's just whining about how you need to slow down and you just bend down getting as close as you can whispering, "but you take me so well."

Just imagining him clenching tighter at the thought of submitting to you. He can hear his dad's voice in his head calling him weak and pathetic and maybe it is, but he doesn't care because you take such good care of him making sure he's a proper mess. Something about a big guy being so submissive and polite.

[coffeecat1983]

Getting self indulgent here...

Working off of this post (OHAI BOMA! @bberetd) along with my Mario-verse AU

"So, another universe, huh?" Spike rubbed his temple. "Sounds wild."

"I know." Tony agreed. "But hey, after what we saw that day? I'd believe almost anything now."

He and Spike were chatting, having bumped into each other at the local coffee shop. "And we're a couple?" Tony picked up his espresso and sipped at the bitter mixture. "Yeah. Close in age there, too, from what the boys said. And we're raising their baby versions together, if you can believe it." "Huh." Spike was thoughtful. "I mean, I could see it." The older man raised an eyebrow. "What, us as a thing?" "I mean, yeah. If things had been different and I hadn't broken my foot and met Seb, who knows? After all," he stood and gave Tony a wink. "You're my type. Catch ya around, Tony." "S-See ya." Tony's voice shook slightly as he failed to hide the blush heating up his face.

Okay, had to get that out of my system (who am I kidding, I'll likely write more)

CC.

[inkpot909]

Can I get a Spike x raeder

The reader was kind with Spike and all but he didn't need a kid adult like in his team so he was always treating them like..idk "whatever" "ok." "Just leave me alone" and so on

But one day the reader gets in the way of a criminal taking the bullet for Spike and they say "thanks goodness you're ok" while bleeding out and Spike regrets it,he doesn't want them to go away,so he apologizes,saying that he needed them taht he would stop teasing them or treating them bad

They get together in the end :)

U can add as much angst as u want

A/n: Thank you thank you so much for the fun request! I feel awful for not being able to finish it for a while; getting caught up in personal matters. I appreciate the support and truly hope it was worth the wait. Have a lovely day; as well as all others reading. <3

Warning(s): Swearing; brief mentions of blood/canon-typical violence; light angst.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. 

It’s a dreadful thought lingering in the back of Spike Spiegel’s mind. Instead of pulling him away from them, fully in the present where he should be, a ricocheting gunshot nearly grazing across his shoulder only hammers the point home. 

It seems that’s the route most bounties have gone down as of late. Realistically, he knows he shouldn’t even pretend to be surprised anymore. And usually, high-stakes entice him. But tonight was supposed to- no, it had to be different for safety’s sake. That much so was made very apparent.

What was originally meant to be a sneaky, difficult yet rewarding job, has mutated into a public gunfight taking place within a famously high-class bar. Having tracked the bounty to this location, things quickly went array upon the realization that most of the security in the building is in the palm of their hand. The bounty himself has presumably slipped away in the commotion, letting others take care of the dirty work for him.

The messiness of the situation has forced Spike and you both into a corner, desperately having to duck for cover. If it weren’t so tense- bullets flying in the air seemingly at every turn -Spike would almost laugh. It’s delightful (if not, a tad bit macabre) to see the place be wrecked to hell in a contextless vaccum. A handful of bodies are scattered across marble flooring along with broken tables and seats. By now, most innocent bystanders are either in hiding or found a way to flee the scene. Blood pouring onto the floor from bodies or light droplets from those still standing contrast heavily with a monochrome color scheme. It’s the kind of joint Spiegel usually wouldn’t ever think to step foot in; mingling with rich types isn’t exactly his cup of tea. On the flip side, maybe the owner at least has hope of being able to repair the mess themselves (a vain hope; as both him and you will most likely have to pay for property damage regardless of the owners funds).

Finding an opening to do so, Spike whirls his body around while swiftly reloading his revolver. Sticking his head up from behind the bar, he barely has enough time to understand the positions of those firing.

Just a few yards away from him on his left, you keep yourself hidden behind a table turned onto its side. Spike ducks below the bar once more, cursing underneath his breath. Blood is trickling down your right leg, clear signs of an injury. From what, exactly, eludes him for the time being.

The dark look on your face is unwavering, however. In fact, you’ve maintained a serious exterior for almost the entire night. It’s enough to put a hindrance on Spike’s breathing, albeit briefly. Such an intense presence doesn’t suit you at all. 

You momentarily pull your attention from the action across the room, sensing someone’s eyes on you. Sure enough, you meet Spike’s gaze immediately. Nodding to one another, a beat comes and goes before the two of you move in tandem. Raising your guns, you both rise up quick enough to fire a shot or two. 

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. 

Crouching down, Spike stares at his feet. Despite holding his head low, his eyes give the impression that he’s looking at something far away. His lips press together in a thin line, letting out a long sigh. Jet’s going to have our heads for this, he expects.

Despite your cool front, you’d been as reckless and clumsy as ever (Spike’s words not yours). He had half a mind to blame you for the shootout, but even he has to admit he knows better than that. Although you fired the first shot, he might as well have done so himself via his own thick headedness. Just as Spike predicted would happen earlier the same day, you ended up hurt. However, he’d done just about everything his older companion told him not to, and here you are suffering the consequences along with him.

...

“Isn’t the whole point of this bounty to be discreet?” Spike muses, arms crossed. His expression is soured, and shoulders stiffened in defense. Sprawled out against the Bebop’s couch, he’s sat himself opposite of Jet. Well aware of how uncomfortably upright the yellow furniture is, his vegged out form is working to drive home a point more than anything else. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Jet replies, voice gruff and short. 

The younger man scoffs, raising his arms and gesturing to his right wildly. “Then why the hell-...” Spike pauses, rubbing his temple, “Then why… do you think I need to bring along Y/n? Surely it’d be better if I-”

“Because they work swiftly and are the most likely to keep you from inflicting your usual brand of collateral damage. I’d say they’ll do well to keep you from messing this up well enough.” Jet cuts him off casually. 

“What? So they’re my babysitter? You know how they are- they’ll just get in the way.”

Jet bites back, “Spike, I swear this’ll go smoothly if you just accept their help. Don’t you dare think of going off on your own. The bounty’s got connections and has reportedly been on high alert since the price on his head increased. We don’t have all the details, but there’s enough to know it could get ugly. You’ll be kicking the bucket if you don’t get your head screwed on straight.”

“We both know the chance of that happening,” Spike huffs.

“Yeah, right… less likely than you admitting to yourself the real reason you get so high-strung about Y/n.” 

The fluffy-haired man raises an eyebrow.

“It’s because you like them, but saying so must not be in vogue nowadays, so you tell yourself it’s just because they’re childish- or whatever made up reason it is this week.”

“They are childish.” 

“And you aren’t?” Jet questions, “I’d think refusing to follow a well-informed decision just to avoid who you’re going to be working with is pretty immature.” 

Silence follows, the moment thick with thought. 

Making a face, Spike abruptly kicks his leg forward and smacks his foot against the side of Jet’s cute coffee table. He doesn’t even open his eyes at the booming, metallic sound. “As if a bright green racer with a goddamn flower plastered on the side of it won’t make us stick out everywhere we go!” Spike exclaims, clearly still hung up on Jet’s previous statement or sending him an implicit warning to shut his mouth.

“I’m sorry, but how many repairs have you needed on that obnoxiously red racer of yours in the past month!?” Jet snapped, finally looking his crewmate in the eye. “Y/n and you are the best choice for this sort of job. You’re going with them; end of story. The sooner you get the bounty the sooner you can come home sulking about it.”

Not twenty minutes later, Spike found himself begrudgingly walking next to you heading towards the Bebop’s garage. You maintain a youthful spring to your step, while he practically drags his feet on the floor following you. 

“Hurry up, slow poke!” you jest, stopping in front of the garage door. Turning towards him, you tap your foot repeatedly as if you’re being forced to wait for him. 

“Maybe you should start practicing blending into the shadows for when we land,” he suggests, moving past you, “You know… being unnoticeable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you giggle, “You’d miss out on what you like the most about me!” 

Sneering, he responds non-committedly, “Yeah… sure.”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Spiegel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You huff, a playful edge to your tone, “C’mon… at least admit I’m more fun than Faye; that can’t possibly be difficult to voice out loud.”

“I’m not admitting shit,” he suddenly snaps, “I just want to get this done; I could really use that reward- so let’s go.”

Frowning, your gaze hesitates on his person as he turns on his heel and shuffles away. He moves with hasty steps towards his precious racer for extra measure.

Your shoulders fall, but his back is turned to you. And even if it wasn't, you are certain by now that it wouldn’t make a difference. The wall he’s built between the two of you is sturdy and unmoving, but hell if you haven’t tried your hand time and time again at tearing it down.

But unknown to you, his thoughts haven’t moved his attention away.

Select bounty missions notwithstanding, nothing ever seemed to truly wipe the smile from your face. Even then, most times you can keep a playful edge to your actions and attitude. Spike Spiegel hates that. It’s hypocritical, considering his own behavior at times, but logic is (apparently) irrelevant. Nothing ever seems to get to you either, and that’s the most frustrating. Nothing he ever says or does gets to you. From the tiniest comment to the very reasons behind Jet's latest stream of lectures- he hardly has witnessed you bat an eyelid at it all.

It’s not that he necessarily dislikes you as a whole, but something angry inside him bubbles over around you. Still fresh in the bounty hunter world, your attitude just appears… too naïve. The feeling you fill him with is foreign, and why someone ‘so simple’ can get his mind racing is beyond him. Within the dim lighting the Bebop offers, barely reaching the inside of his racer, Spike has long been so sure you’d never find common footing he doesn’t even consider it an assumption anymore. 

...

Amidst his thoughts, the two of you manage to shave the number of shooters down by a considerable amount. 

Still eager to be done with the case (even if it means coming back empty handed at this rate), Spike takes the opportunity to fully rush away from behind the bar completely. Taking a dive, he shoots another individual just before tumbling to the floor. As he rolls himself over to find complete cover once more, he loudly lets out a curse after a loud gunshot fires in the air. 

“Spike!?” you squeak, whipping around to see the man on the floor cradling his foot. Both his hands are clasped around his shoe, knuckles turning ghost white from applied pressure. Your eyes widen, dropping your adopted expression. “Are you alright!?” you shout. 

“Less worry; more shooting!” he barks, wincing at a shot of pain trailing violently up his leg. 

Not needing to be told twice, you focus your efforts back on the task at hand. He hears three distinct gunshots from your side of the room. Two thuds come from the far end his back is facing, a sound he recognizes as clothed bodies hitting the floor. To Spike’s relief, deafening sounds of guns firing comes to a complete halt. 

You drop to the floor as well, buttocks making harsh contact with marble. Turning just your head this time, you meet Spike’s gaze once more. Not a second passes before the two of you share an exhausted laugh. Your tone is light and thankful, his is booming and pushing through fierceness beginning to fade. 

“As best as we can… we’re keeping this from getting back to Jet or Faye,” Spike mumbles, leaning his head back after calming himself down. 

Smiling warmly, you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and move your attention. Your eyes scan the back of the bar, squinting slightly. The walls are littered with bullet holes, and you’ve no doubt the amount of which are near impossible for one person to count alone. A shady figure lingers in a bathrooms door frame, and at least two tables in the back are snapped in half-

Wait… 

Realistically, the figure in the distance moves fast. To you, the gut reaction is so quick hindsight allows you to fool yourself into believing you had even a moment to think about your actions. To understand what exactly it was you’re doing. To process all that transpires within the next couple of seconds. 

But that isn’t really the case. You merely registered the shadowed individual’s frame, and the reflective light bouncing off the pistol in their hand. It was all you needed to act, diving to the side so quickly that ‘desperate’ wouldn’t be enough to describe the action. 

A shout erupts from behind you, frantic and unfathomably angry. More sounds of gunshots fill the air; curse words and other profanities fill any available space. You can distinctly make out Spike’s voice, and one more that’s unknown to you. It’s very deep and masculine, though, from what you can understand.

You attempt to roll your body over, but a sharp pain just below your collarbone and near your shoulder keeps you from doing so. Vision blurs at random, and you can scarcely make out your companion (roommate?) standing in front of you. When exactly did he get there? 

Your eyes flutter open and shut. 

You feel someone kneeing you in the side, and your eyes snap open to observe Spike bending down beside you. Slowly but surely, your vision stabilizes. When did he…? Is the mysterious shooter still around? You attempt to move again, but this time the pain you feel is so prominent you cry out and screw your eyelids shut. 

“Oi oi oi…” you hear Spike’s voice call. “Don’t strain yourself, dummy,” he tells you, having absolutely no bite behind his words. At least, none you could make out. Still, you're inclined to wonder if it’s still just your own shock over getting shot making you misunderstand. 

“Bounty got away…” he huffed, gently sitting you up against a fallen table. Giving you an apologetic look, he rips the side of your top open. You put up no fight, watching him wrap your bullet wound with whatever makeshift materials he’s found lying around. 

“Was that who was standing in the back?” you ask, voice kept low. 

“Yeah,” he replies, “ I thought the coward hightailed it and ran… but I guess he wanted the last laugh. Erm- tried to at least. He ended up running anyway.” 

“Him and this ‘team’ if his will probably persue us, then,” you sigh, “Now we have to hunt him down before he gets us…” Pausing, you take a minute to mull over your words. “I’m really sorry. This is all my-“

“Don’t,” he cuts you off calmly, gesturing to your injuries. “Not when you’re like this.”

Smiling despite yourself, he stops his movements at the display. Ignoring the shock on his face, you ask, “What? You worried about me?” 

Spike hesitates, physically moving his chest away from you. “Don’t be absurd,” he scoffs, speaking unconvincingly. He continues, wrapping around the wound once more before stopping himself yet again. His frown deepens, adding, “And stop smiling like that.” 

“Why?”

“Because you were just shot!” he snaps, “And nearly slipped out of consciousness!” 

“Ah…” heat rushes to your face, “So you were worried…” 

“I-… yes, fine, okay?” his head falls, giving in.

You snort, “That sounded painful.” 

“Tonight’s been stressful; you haven't been acting like yourself all night. Even on a job… it’s not like you to get so serious. What was with you?”

You shrug sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “Thought you’d like it better that way.”

“It freaked me out, why would-“

Spike halted his words. He knew exactly why, but the night has been a long string of his own mistakes so it’s been tough keeping up. And here’s the biggest one yet, coming straight towards him holding a steel chair: How he treats you. More specifically, how he spoke to you earlier. How indifferent, borderline annoyed, he always acts. It’s true, he’s long been trying to figure out how to press your buttons. But all at once it’s clear that it does get to you. Now that it’s showing, even just a small bit, his wall between you two starts to crumble.

“Couldn’t let anything happen to you either…” you mumble when he doesn’t continue, “Jet was telling me how easily the job could be slipped up. I was a bit intimidated… and when you spoke to me earlier I guess I just accepted that it would be a little out of my league. This was my first real ‘big gig’ after all… and I couldn’t accept the idea of disappointing you.”

Nodding, he finished up the last of tending to the wound for the time being. Regardless, his hand lingers on your shoulder supportively. “I’m… sorry I’ve been hard on you. This lifestyle’s really roughened me out; guess I should be glad it hasn’t gotten to you yet,” he mutters, adding a quick, “You did good.”

The moment it slips from his mouth, he is taken aback. He means that too, but that’s the part that surprises him. Then again, you’d surprised him yourself.

A grin flashes across your face. Sweet and genuine, without a sting of pain. Spike’s heart feels heavy with just a simple glance. It’s like the first time he ever saw you, back when he was keen to notice a glowing aura you possessed. He’d describe it as a pure beauty, if he could have swallowed his pride. However, it’s the added context of knowing who you really are that keeps his attention on you this time around.

“You think I have hope of becoming a ‘real’ bounty hunter like you someday?” you ask, referencing a conversation you’ve shared once before. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sweetheart,” he replies, a tiny smile appearing on his face. 

Sharing a breathily laugh, the two of you soon sit and stare at one another in silence. Outside, people are shouting and police sirens are flaring. Yet his diligent ogling isn’t hindered in the slightest. 

“What about respect…?” you test the waters, voice quiet and careful, “You think I’ve at least earned that?”

Smirking, Spike’s head slowly moves from your shoulder to the back of your head. His own leaning down crookedly in correlation, speaking now in a low whisper, “Don’t be modest… you’ve earned more than that.” 

In one swift motion, his lips press against yours in a surprisingly soft kiss. Even as people began to pile into the building, police enforcements leading the way, the two of you stayed glued to one another. A news crew even caught a glimpse of the display of affection, only adding to outside confusion. 

Breaking away from the kiss, you giggle against his lips, “We’re on TV.”

“Give ‘em a show, then, yeah?” he smirks, leaning closer and planting another kiss on your lips. 

At home, within the Bebop’s common area, Jet plops down in his favorite seat with Ein at his side. The man nearly falls out of his chair upon turning on his television.

[kinichval]

being idol!xiao's girlfriend means you have unlimited and pre-release access to all his merchandise, fan event tickets, and even allowed backstage during concerts by his management.

but you're his biggest fan, his number one fan girl, and, in xiaotwt terms, his most delulu girlfriend stan. which tingles xiao's brain because... you are his girlfriend? why do you have be crazy over him on the internet when you can literally smother him in your lovely kisses all day?

as much as you're internally cocky with the fact that you're the luckiest fan out there, you can't just upload on twitter a photo of him in your arms. now, that would be a chaotic mess for the management, potentially posing a threat to his career, and ultimately, endangering your privacy.

(but at least your private instagram is a safe space for showing off your boyfriend, xiao.)

what idol!xiao finds the most absurd (and adorable) is when he's able to send you selfies and candid shots during his practices, recordings, or any related agendas in his work that don't end up in the photocard or merchandise lineup; but, you're still fighting for your life on buy and sell twt to get one limited edition xiao photocard on his third anniversary as an artist or you're waiting in a long ass line to purchase merchandise from an accredited store nearby your place.

even the management has seen you a few times blending in with idol!xiao's sea of fans, they also wonder why you don't take advantage of the convenience and access to almost everything when you're already a trusted friend and a very supportive girlfriend of their favorite artist.

in your defense, it's part of the fan girl experience.

"how much did you pay for that?"

but sometimes, your impulse comes first before your superego even gets to neutralize your decision.

"uh about like... a few dollars?"

"my love, it's expensive and i believe that's overpriced."

"but it's limited edition!"

"you literally date the real thing."

[spuffyarchive]

Hourglass by smellslikecorruption [PG]

That special gift (hint: the gift is humanity). Buffy POV Shanshu fluffishness.

[f1-disaster-bi]

Unwanted Attention Dialogue Prompts

"I just panicked. I don't remember how, but I just ran away."

For pando please? Maybe shifters au? 🩷

TW for spike drink

Pierre couldn't find Lando.

One minute he was there. He was right there. He could see Lando across the VIP area, standing by the bar waiting on their drinks. He had been smiling, waving at Pierre and Pierre had looked away for a second. It had just been a second and Lando was gone.

Their drinks were sitting unattended at the bar, and Lando was gone, leaving Pierre searching through crowds anxiously for any sight of his boyfriend.

There was nothing to tell him that something was wrong except for the feeling in his gut as he pushed through the crowds. He ignored the hands trying to grab him and the people slurring proposals to dance or for drinks. All he wanted was to find Lando because every instinct that he had was screaming that something was wrong.

Something inside of him was howling with the need to find Lando in a way that scared him a little, and when he did, Pierre was glad he had listened to his instincts.

Lando was out back, slumped over against a wall just out of view. His head was tilted towards the sky, eyes open and just staring upwards, His chest was heaving slightly and Pierre could feel the skittish air around him as he appraoched him carefully. He was half afraid that Lando was about shift and make a run for it but he didn't.

Instead he looked at Pierre with wild eyes and pushed off the wall to stumble into his arms.

"Pierre", Lando wrapped his arms around him tight, shaking a little as he held him, "I am so sorry. I jsut panicked. I don't remember how, but I just ran away. It didn't taste right. I didn't want him to..."

Pierre felt as if someone had poured ice down his spine at Lando's words, fear gripping him like nothing he had ever felt before.

"Lando, baby", his voice sounded broken to his own ears as Lando pulled back enough to look up at him.

"He....he put something in my drink. I think. I only looked away for a second when he touched my waist. I wanted to escape and then I drank it, and I don't feel right, Pierre", Lando's words were slurred and as Pierre looked at him, his eyes seemed to be all pupil as he leaned on Pierre heavily.

"It's okay. It's okay baby. You did so good getting away", Pierre whispered, tugging him closer as he silently thanked God for looking out for Lando tonight, "I'm gonna call George and Jon. They'll know what to do, yeah? You're safe"

"Always safe with you", Lando whispered as Pierre tried to hold it together for the both of them.

[reddragon-cowboy]

@humanitysong asked: xxx but how about a hc those two share in their relationship?

Send me XXX and I will share a nsfw headcanon about my muse. Notes: Biting. Pining. Height difference. Pred x Prey dynamic. They got a primal/breeding kink :'> It's a bit vague under read more but still. This somehow got turned into a quick little oneshot/drabble. . . More here

Now, Spike wouldn't accept just any ole bounty available that Big Shot provides on their television segment. For one, his crew knew by firsthand experience how fickle he can be, exhibiting an indifferent attitude when a bounty doesn't suit his interests enough to get involved in the chase. In his mind, it's not worth it to put in the effort for someone that lacks value. Typical small fry. But other than that, he loves the chase of running after a high-paid bounty, ever prepared with his handgun pulled out its holster and lowered as he draws close to his target on quick, silent feet you could barely hear approaching. There’s a specific thrill in the chase of hunting down anyone seen as prey.

And in his eyes, Niah was a rare beauty to behold, a priceless gem scavenged from the caves of old earth, someone worthy of the chase who could fulfill his utmost desires carnal in design. And, well, he also liked to play games. . . games like cat and mouse. He'd play as the cowboy while she's the bounty. Or he'd take on the role of the predator in the wild while she's the prey who dashes through the thicket he must catch in the bushes, which actually falls in line to their opposing natures: wolf & rabbit. It's one of his favorite games to play. . . in fact. . . Niah was his ( only) favorite person to play it with since she plays her part so well.

For starters, he'd give her a head start, allowing her to slip of out his grasp, maybe even let her disappear out of sight to let her think she can get away, set the belief in her mind that she can run away. And she might act innocent and naive during these games they play, but Niah was certainly no fool and knows her place. She well knows she couldn't escape the smell of a bloodhound, knows how capture was inevitable as his nose trails after her, following her sweet fragrance that lingers in the wind like a beast who prowls within the underbrush, lurking beneath the surface of day in search of its next meal.

In one way or another, Spike would eventually have her cornered or pinned down beneath him, trapped between his jaws as teeth sink into her skin, nipping at her soft flesh with fervor and intense want. It'd feel humid as his hot breath wash over her cheeks with a fierce warmth, sultry whimpers sneaking in-between her curvaceous lips as he plants bite marks upon her neck with a low growl. Wet tongue buried deep in her mouth till air escapes her lungs, his heavy weight pressing down against her, and she'd squirm beneath his strength that keeps her still where he wants her. And. . . oh ? Where does she think she's going ? Don't tell me she's trying to escape again ? Well, that's kind of silly to think a little prey like her can slip through his claws so easily.

This is something she wanted, after all, to be owned by him as she lets him do what he pleases, let his primal instincts take over as he devours and breeds her.