Ind. Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer
& Angel
Follows back from @apocalypse-grrrl
multi-para to novella, semi-selective, multiship.
21+, will not interact otherwise; mun is almost 30.
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Sade Olutola
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
KIROKAZE
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d e v o n
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Jules of Nature

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pixel skylines

tannertan36
DEAR READER

Love Begins
wallacepolsom
Cosmic Funnies
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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@bloodybigbad
Ind. Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer
& Angel
Follows back from @apocalypse-grrrl
multi-para to novella, semi-selective, multiship.
21+, will not interact otherwise; mun is almost 30.
Rules | AUs & Canon | Ships | Tag List
It was strange how much Buffy found herself relying on his words ─ or much less Spike himself ─ almost practically finding... comfort with him?! There she went again, not able to explain how they went from enemies to...whatever was happening here now.
She blinked at first, a small smile passing on her lips. "Whoa! Did I just get a pep talk from Spike?! No...a compliment?! Just when I think I've seen it all, strange new things appear and continue to take me by surprise."
Sure, she could crack some other joke or pun here, maybe even brush it off, but she felt she should at least address it. "Thank you for it." Buffy nodded when he said she'd get no more out of him. "Of course." The Slayer paused before continuing on. "M-Maybe you aren't so bad yourself? I mean...you're still a vampire and I haven't forgotten the history between us, but...I guess you're pretty remarkable too."
And there was no way she would be repeating that again. She yawned, glancing around the graveyard again. "Tonight's patrol seems...different."
"Slayer..." His voice seemed softer now.
He shook his head; Spike felt his heart within unfurl and ache with each half-step beat it gave way to.
"Angel was a vampire... Although, subversion of expectations seems to be a theme here...."
Hang on a sec; she hadn't forgotten their history? Gods, the stupid things those words made the nerves in his fingertips do- despite being undead.
So she felt it, too. How strangely different this patrol seemed tonight. It was like all the pressure was just... gone. Like a plume of smoke. Suddenly, in this moment, he felt he could tell Buffy just about anything.
"Y'know... It's so easy to talk to you sometimes...," Spike felt himself musing beside her, feet moving at a steady pace through the cemetery's stony confines. The night was young, the moon was full and bright, and so far (finger's crossed) it was relatively peaceful. He could suggest they maybe dip in some place for a bite n' a pint... Spike doubted she'd go for it, though.
So far there had been no bites; no batty baddies ready for shredding... No faces to punch or pummel... Spike felt his restless nature stirring, his chipped black fingertips idling to his coat pocket for his smokes as they strolled on. Something else stirred within Spike's breast.
Just how normal and pleasant this whole long walk through the cemetery was beginning to feel...
Like a...
No, he wouldn't dare call it that. Neither would she.
Although, a twinge in Spike's spirit felt akin to a giddy schoolboy, strolling along with the dream girl... Er, in theory. Everything Spike once fancied and missed among company with the living... Or, in general, really. It was simply nice. It was all Spike had needed these days, but you couldn't pry that out of the man for anything in the world.
Not even.
"Bloody hell," he heaves softly as he exudes smoke.
His head was starting to pressurize again, the damn microwave in his brain melting and overheating... Or was that him?
He snorted the thought away and nursed his cigarette, deciding to kill this silence of sheer overthinking on Spike's part,
"Welp. Guess it's a race to the bar then?," he flashed a single-fanged grin.
Gonna get to some more replies at some point in the week, just have had quite the weekend.
Her smile is BRIGHT, thick lashes brushing the apples of her cheeks as she LAUGHS. The sound of it is all SOUTHERN CHARM and SUNBEAMS. Varnished nails pet languidly at the lapel of his coat, tracing rhythmic, flirting fingers over the leather. ❝Lucy,❞ she hums softly. Short and SWEET in the dark.
❝What about you, pretty?❞ This is asked with a level of FAUX INSOUCIANCE that reveals her delighted stroll into this NEW TERRITORY they’re playing in.
Delicate fingers pluck the cigarette from his teeth, slotting it between her GLITTER GLOSSED lips as though it were hers by RIGHT. Having already begun missing the burnt out one she’d tossed to the floor. Curves melting further into the lines of his body, practically resting fully against him. Smoke pluming from her nose on the exhale, curling thick between them.
❝You’re cute, aren’t you?❞ A RHETORICAL QUESTION. Pretty head shaking at his words, ❝’m tragically not within the realm of angels, baby.❞ The cigarette now pinched between the sides of her index and middle is offered back with PEACHY PINK GLITTER sticking to the paper from her smiling mouth.
❝And I’m guessing you’re only askin’ me because you are?❞ A THRILL thrums through her CADAVEROUS CHEST at the mere idea of it all, leaning so idly into one of her OWN when her interactions with them have been so few and far in between. IT HELPS THAT HE’S SO DELICIOUS LOOKING. Honeyed gaze shines at him, a brief GLEAM of LEONINE HEAT.
❝And how old would you be, if you were— what was it? A creature of the night?❞
Cute? Now, Spike wasn't sure if he liked that... Oh, no... He was quite certain he did, actually... And Gods, her accent was adorable. The sugar high was all too much and it was getting to Spike's brain in a hurry.
"Bloody hell, luv- Yer gonna give my fangs cavities....," he breathed, rolling up slowly to meet her dithering softly into his touch. So close, yet so far....
She was making him almost too high to keep up with the questions now, although Spike would never dare admit that to a soul (or lack of).
His blue-greens were glued to her glittery smile, her lips perfectly polished and plump. Gorgeous wasn't even a good enough word to describe this woman... Her words lingered within his head and swirled around and around.
"Oh, eheh... Only about 127... years," he exhaled a quiet snicker.
He smirked softly, gaze meeting hers from his height. Spike was now trembling, almost pathetically so. He had to bite his lip to try and stop his tail from wagging. Ehrm, metaphorically.
"It's always a sheer relief to meet another... Although, you're quite different.... Anyhow...~"
"How about yourself?"
Maybe it was the cheekbones, the ACCENT, or maybe just the way he seemed so RIDICULOUSLY EDIBLE that made her ache with the WANT to play this game. GREEDY ROTTEN HEART fluttering in her chest at the sight of his TEETH sinking into his lower lip.
❝You're just bein' sweet on me,❞ she breathes in a SIREN'S HUSH whilst she steps even closer still. HOT PINK nails flick her cigarette carelessly to the floor before lifting to run along the lapel of his leather coat, tracing the shape of it with a delicate hand. Curvy frame leans into him, smelling of SUNSHINE and PEACH and BAD DECISIONS MADE TOO LATE.
❝Bet you're used to using that pretty face to get anything you want, hmm?❞ The hum sits sugar sweet in her mouth, tongue running idly over a SERRATED CANINE.
❝Start askin'.❞ Her tone is WARM in the dizzying pulse of the room, pretty head tilting up at him to trace her gaze over his face.
Sugared peaches flooded the man's senses; biting at him, consuming him with just how sweet she was. He didn't even know her, but Spike couldn't shake the feeling that this was simply an objective truth about the lady, and it was much too intoxicating to ignore.
"The first bein' the obvious; what's yer name?"
The male's fangs prickled ever so slightly at his lower lip, an almost pout forming in his blues; cursed to resemble some moon-eyed lead singer. Though, with a soft glance to the crowd again, he took another measured drag before allowing the little circle around them to exude smoke, their own personal ring of Hellfire inevitably unfurling.
"And one more, possibly obvious one- You a creature of the night too, luv? A being this electric is either Heaven or Hell, and I'm dying to find where I fall on that plane....~," Spike practically purred.
Before he could get too greedy with the questions, the looming shadow of a man perched himself neatly against the wall and continued to nurse his cigarette.
"And don't worry... I won't tell....~"
All the luck in the world lived in Spike simply sharing a space with such a beautiful creature.
i have [gestures vaguely] my tendencies
Rips my organs out of my stomach and throws tjem on the floor and stomps on them 1,000 times
Pet? The sentiment settles languidly in her chest, igniting a HORRIBLE RAVENOUS ACHE in her heart and along the back of her teeth. Warm honey eyes GLEAM lambent in the dim club lighting — THERE AND THEN GONE — a predatory warning if there ever was such a thing. An unconscious aspect of her nature that lives at odds with the way her body LEANS closer to his against the wall. Her denim clad hip jutting against the stone as she faces him.
❝Livewire, huh?❞ Pretty head tilts at him, her focus drifting across his face lazily. MANICURED CLAWS raising her glitter sticky marlboro back to her lips, smearing more gloss onto the paper as she inhales.
❝You don't even know me, pretty.❞ There's an undercurrent of AWARENESS in this statement, something teasing in the subtext that DARES him to WANT to.
Something in Spike's jugular twitches, his head tilting ever so slightly as he examines her with the curiosity of an alley cat. Dark, blue eyes flitted about her face... His chest rising, the scent of perfume and soft, feminine skin rendering him almost entirely still now. The sticky, saccharine gloss that lined her cigarette filter was an oddly indulgent sight for Spike, his smirk returning as he noted the deadly contrast.
"I do know there's an electricity in the air I could practically feel outside the bloody door...~"
He was biting his lip now, like a feral kitten. How many beers had it been? Perhaps he was just in his feel-good delusion, but there had something seriously, sickeningly sweet and bright and he had certainly picked up on it well before he'd gotten tipsy.
"Well, fancy a game of 20 questions then?"
Once more, he tilted his head and curled his lips into a fanged smirk- challenging the vixen. A sort of I'll show you mine if you show me yours, in a sense.
There was something very ethereal about this woman. He already knew some of the questions he wanted to ask.
Sortin' & making a tag list, then replies.~
nice wound. Could use some salt though
"What's a bloke got to do to get a couple bloody pints 'round here??"
She nodded in understanding because yes, of course people weren't going to like her. She expected most people wouldn't, in fact. So she was taken aback when he followed that up with a compliment, and to her looks too. "Me? I look... odd," she pointed out with a smile, obviously pleased by the praise even if, of course, it wasn't accurate. She self-consciously touched her hair, bleached by chemicals, "And I've been told a woman's skin is meant to look perfect. If anyone ever sees me without gloves..." she shook her head, always a little embarrassed by that.
But it wasn't just the burns or the lashes, was it? She couldn't hope for anyone to like her, not even in the most platonic and detached of ways, when she was nothing but a monster. She didn't know what she looked like when out of control, but it had to be revolting, if it was anything like the demons she'd seen before. Not that William would know about that, though. Scars would be off-putting enough for a human man. "... I was also told women are meant to be mysterious. I am... not very good at this, am I?"
Something about his words, even if she had little knowledge of other people's inner workings, made her feel as if he were as caged as she had been. "I think... I think you can find good and bad people everywhere. But sometimes..." she trailed off, trying to find words, "Well, it's you who changes, right? Away from those who hurt you, you can be yourself. At least that is my experience. So I'm sure the rest of the world is different. Has to be. My world was... merely more than a room. So now, even just to see... these women in beautiful gowns, or to hear the men laugh at jokes... or the sounds of birds in the morning, or to sit here with you, free to speak... it's all new and amazing. It makes me happy. If you can travel someday, and see more, I hope it will be the same for you... and I think it will be."
"I'm no Noble, but... I believe the way you behave is fine."
His words felt simple, leaving him. Like it was no great, grand revelation or much use of comfort to the woman. Although, she didn't treat him like a commoner, and that was enough to give William great relief.
Although, he was taken aback by her perception of her own beauty. And her now-revealing shame in her acting abilities... It elicited a pang within the man's chest. How on earth could anyone hold her so firmly to these things, in all such seriousness? As though her life depended on it?
William could have sworn he could hear a pin drop, although only within his mind. He'd far tuned out the chatter of scholars and spectators, and now the man's gears couldn't stop turning.
Her life had depended on these things, hadn't they? So much was adding up in such a bleak way...
His expression grew somber, he didn't possess much a skill for saving face. His brows furrowed, but he kept his words quiet,
"I wish for you to be free.... Of all of this...."
; — @apocalypse-grrrl BIT DOWN on the CALL🩸
ETERNAL LIFE sounds excellent in theory — forever twenty-five, smoking without hazard, luscious gently curling hair no matter the amount of bleach she SMOTHERS it in. But god, the DRUDGERY of it all. That's what'll really kill you.
Another dead end diner job in another shit-kick, same-as-the-last town. SUNNYDALE wasn't any better. Petite frame leans lazily against the back wall in the GLEAM of neon, the TOO BRIGHT light dancing along her lashes.
╭BEAUTIFUL LITTLE MONSTER╮
She settles in for another night of much of the same, DRUDGERY AT IT'S FINEST. When a man makes himself known, shadows simply unfolding around him as though he'd always been there. The distinct LACK of heartbeat pricks her ears, she swallows the revelation of it with a sighed out plume of marlboro smoke.
❝Want one?❞ The offer is much more casual than she feels considering her encounter with her own kind is SLIM TO NONE. Varnished nails unfurl around a hot pink BARBIE lighter and waggle it at him enticingly. ❝You'd be saving me from my boredom, doll.❞
The Bronze held many memories captive about the thin air surrounding the man; faces flitting about like old, forgotten ghosts in his mind. The neon lights did little to comfort the anxious vampire this week, and he was finding his digits desperately searching his coat pocket for his cigarette pack. As if on cue, a familiar vibe crept into Spike's vision- lighter extended like a knowing invitation to a Lonely Hearts Club or similar band of misfits he always seemed to stumble back into.
Although, this one didn't look like she belonged; in fact, quite the opposite. The woman exuded an unspoken air of power. That kind of electricity was hard to ignore, and how she wasn't immersed in a sea of dancers, living it up was far beyond Spike. His lips curled up slowly as he gingerly accepted the hot pink, girly lighter and leaned against the wall.
Doll, was it? The man wouldn't admit it, but that bold kind of talk was quick to get to him. Playing it cool in his boots, he took a much-needed drag from his resolve and allowed his smirk to play further at his lips, one snaggletooth fang glinting softly under the purple and orange above them.
"So," he exhaled a plume of smoke and relief all in the same undead breath.
"What brings a livewire like you to the wallflowers, pet?"
He cast a sideways glance to the blonde woman, to her sickly pink lips, her bodice... back to her eyes, before just as quickly casting his gaze back around the room; to the oblivious, dancing happy meals on legs.
He didn't really care if he was read as a pig at this point; par for the course, really. Although, Spike would be lying if he wasn't utterly intrigued by the growing distance between this woman and the crowds. A little subversion of expectations did seem to excite the man, after all.
Regardless, it was finally an interesting evening at The Bronze, and at this point Spike was ready to thank whatever Chaos God was responsible for keeping Spike from lighting a trashcan fire just for some jollies.
And she was back to raising an eyebrow again, but this time as a warning look (and maybe some slight amusement too.) Did she let out a chuckle at his exaggerated British accent? Maybe.
"Don't make me change my mind about it!" But would she ever? Perhaps he was growing on her in some bizarre way. She couldn't really explain it, and she wouldn't know how if she tried.
Buffy crossed her arms, continuing to shoot him that look, even as she found what he was saying was amusing. After a moment, she let down her guard a little, smiling at his words. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way. I've tried revoking my Slayer badge before, so you could say I know from personal experience. It's not even something I signed up for. I was just...chosen. It's kind of rude."
She had been down this road before, reluctant to accept her calling or why she of all people had to be chosen. She could have easily gone about the rest of her life normally and in ignorant bliss, but...maybe it was a good thing she had become the Slayer? It reminded her of what Kendra told her long ago: it's not a job. It's who she is.
"All I know is: I was chosen for a reason. I don't know if it's the right choice or the wrong one, but I can't avoid it no matter how hard I try. So I'll just do what I do, regardless of what the Council has to say. This doesn't mean I'm letting you off easy though. I'm still watching you, Spike."
"That'a girl," he smirked, giving a nonchalant shrug.
"You're the one with the Power, Pet. Never forget it.~"
He couldn't help himself from speaking of the tongue and cheek, but the night was electric, and light this time for whatever reason. Must be something in the stars...
But hey now, how did he even get here? Singing the Slayer's praises? Was this a pity thing? On either side? Regardless.
"But hey, don't go yankin' my leash too hard," Spike rolled his eyes.
"All in all, you may be chosen; but you can choose whatever you want to do, and you have. I mean, despite missions a la Giles. But you still choose to save people. You're... Bloody hell," he groaned, shaking a coat pocket open desperately for his pack of smokes.
"You're remarkable, there. I said it. Okay, done. You'll get no more from me tonight, Slayer."
And he was striking away with his lighter, quickly inhaling another stick of nicotine, to shut himself up.
Buffy smiled back at him, just as softly, until he asked that question, comparing her to Faith, and she remembered how cozy they looked together in the basement, sitting side by side on his bed.
"... sure, or hey, I could ask Angel to stop by. Isn't he as capable as you are?" maybe he'd get the veiled hint that he had chosen the worst phrasing possible.
"Hang on a tick... No way..."
A wicked little grin curled up along Spike's angular features, making him look like a right imp. He couldn't believe he'd (un)lived to see the day. Although, that irksome name still echoed in his head like an ominous chant. Ensouled or not, that blockhead always seemed to grate right on Spike's nerves.
"You're jealous."
Biting a corner of his lower lip, the vampire stalked slowly beside the blonde Slayer, lowering just enough to mutter in her ear,
"Silly girl... As if you don't know it's all about you..."
His smile fell, visage becoming somber.
"I just figured I'd be your second pick, as usual...," he purred, fixing a cigarette between his teeth as he shifted from her now, retreating to the shadows to smoke.
"So, I know exactly where I fall on the list. Guess that's somethin'. "
He nursed the nicotine a moment, before allowing the vapors to quell the quiet rage that was building within at the mention of the name Angel. So Spike wouldn't say something stupid.
"Right. Well, just so ya know, if it was that big a pissing contest I woulda probably found my own gig by now, too. But for some strange reason... I'm here," he tilted a head and sighed.
"But no, I'm definitely following another leader," he snarked softly.
"Stop bein' dumb, Love. I just don't know how to take the notion that I'm a better candidate for this than one of yer own colleagues. That's all."
Shaking his head now, he took another draw on his cigarette. His mood dampened a bit for the night, that was for sure. Maybe he'd go and get a drink, with this newfound sense of freedom from being damn-near close to the pet cemetery.
"Christ."
Was she the tree or was she the axe? Of course she couldn't tell him how many times she had been swung to take lives, even she wouldn't know, not since the slave crown had robbed her of thoughts. But truly, she felt like both, and didn't have the right to act wounded when she had hurt others. That, and she wasn't even human.
"Freeing," she repeated, her tone softening, "Really? I... have longed for freedom, naturally, but... I think... I think I'd really like... people. I'd like not to be alone. I cannot play my part for them..." she glanced at the other guests, "Nor I wish to be fake. I have had enough of... pretenses. But... still... I'd also like to fit... to feel like a part of something. Is that... weak, perhaps?" her tone was one of interest, wanting to hear his opinion now that she was finally having a real conversation.
William, yes, she had indeed heard. She smiled more widely this time, "Terra Branford. It's very nice to know you, William."
"If we are both outsiders, then at least we have our own little circle, right?"
"Certainly not weak. I think that simply aids in finding where and who you fit with. Naturally, there will always be people around that won't understand or like you, even if it's... well, more often than not....," he gave a bit of a sheepish shrug at that last part of his sentence, not-so-subtly referencing himself. His smile did once more turn up, however.
"Although, I highly doubt someone of such beauty and grace will experience too much of that."
His framed eyes lifted meekly to meet Terra's, the faintest burning in his cheeks rising. He was feeling now indeed a bit pleased that he could even have one merely positive social experience, and for this many minutes! It felt like a world record.
"Our own little circle, right. Agreed. Perhaps just remaining joyous in our company will gather more like-minded individuals. Thank you for such the opportunity, Miss Terra."
It was very nice to know him. He was... nice to know. This was news, however very pleasant news to William. Of course, he had had friends in his youth. But he had begun to believe that kindness was a dying quality after a certain point in adulthood. Perhaps he should really get out there someday, travel... Although, this thought suddenly struck William in a particular way.
"So, you most likely have seen a very limited world as I have then... I would like to travel someday, as well. See if the rest of the world is the same as it is here... Though, I truly hope it isn't," he added the last bit with a kind of small, nervous laugh.