❝ You know, I've walked home from work by myself a hundred times by now. You didn't have to walk with me tonight. ❞ Sookie leaned against one of the beams supporting the porch's roof, its paint cracked and faded. ❝ Or were you worried something bigger and badder than you was gonna jump out of the bushes and get me? ❞ Her eyebrow raised in a teasing gesture. Really, she appreciated his offer to walk her home. It made it less creepy walking through the dark on her own.
wednesday was no stranger to crypts . the addams estate resided on the grounds of an old asylum . meaning , it came with its own graveyard complete with mausoleums and crypts worthy of all of her favorite gothic story tellers : poe , shelley , lovecraft and stevenson ( though so many forget him ) . she grew up caring for these spaces , digging up graves for fun , and delivering offerings to every headstone during dio de los muertos . she cherished the dead more than she did the living . most of them anyway . all that to say , she knew what good crypt keeping looked like .
this wasn't it , not in her overbearing opinion . “ i thought you were bleak . brooding . dangerously undead . ” she started . wednesday descended the crumbling steps of the crypt as if the place was going to collapse at any moment . she so hoped it would . “ instead , i'm greeted with a bachelor pad decorated by hot topic's finest that smells like damp regret and cigarette smoke . ” there was no hiding her disappointment . “ if we're to commune with the vengeful dead we need a place quiet , isolated , mildly cursed ── so far the only thing cursed about this place is whatever you did to it . it's people like you that give crypt keeping a bad name . ”
closed starter for @hostyle17 from buffy summers. / sc.
❛ what do you want, spike ? i'm working ... ❜ buffy told him, glancing around as they stood in the alleyway after telling her co-worker she was going on a 'break'. not exactly how she envisioned her break to go, but it was better than watching the patties on the stove turn brown until the red light blinked at her. ❛ you can't just show up here. ❜
He raised an eyebrow, almost condescending when matched with the rest of his face, his eyes glaring through the other as if he had expected more. “Oh please! Even if there was anything as I would tell a stranger, who are you again?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “Even if you have done a few jobs for me that doesn't mean you are entitled to anything.” Jim had been through much pain during his life and there have been those who had left their mark on him, particularly when he was younger, before the walls he put up had become beyond rock solid. “You will have to do better than that dear Spike although I will say, those asking stupid questions do hurt me awfully!” he shouted dramatically, gasping as if it had truly offended him, before returning to his laptop. “Never ask that question again.”
The woman wrapped in tendrils of moss and pitch taps on the pub's glass. She smiles a coquette's smile, but her wide black eyes are pleasantly unhinged. The thin-faced man she's looking at is in the middle of his third pint with a merrily unsuspecting human.
"Ah, ah, ah..." she whispers, but hardly looks concerned.
It was late, long after his show had finished. She'd gone to see him in his dressing room, making polite small talk with his bandmates and crew as she made her way to the very last door—his name taped across the front of it.
Annie barely made it five steps inside before he was on her, pushing her back against the door behind her, slamming it shut as his mouth covered hers as though he'd been waiting all night for this.
His hands grabbed onto her waist, hoisting her up like she weighed nothing—her legs wrapping around him, holding herself in place. She'd worn a skirt, on the off-chance he decided to get handsy, and as usual—she was right.
Her skirt bunched around her waist, and she rocked against him, using her legs to pull him in closer. He was wearing too much in her opinion, but her hands were occupied with pulling on his hair, fingers tangling in the slicked back strands.
She pulled her mouth away from his, just enough to get a few words out. "Think you're wearin' a bit too much, Spike." And then her mouth was back on his, teeth digging into his lower lip.
[ INTERCEPT ] BECAUSE SHE CAN'T CATCH A CHARGE RIGHT NOW
"LET ME THE FUCK GO, SPIKE! PUT ME DOWN!"
He knew very well what he was getting into. Clementine struggled against his grip, kicking him every place that she could reach. Noticeably, she didn't nail him right in the balls -- she was being nice even in her worst moment, or something.
"Spike, you need to put me down. You know that motherfucker deserves it!" Nothing made her angrier than someone fucking with a poor girl at the bar. Part of the reason she barely went out anymore; some dickhole was always getting too close, getting to friendly with someone too scared to say no. "Spike! ...WILLIAM!"
“What? No witty remark? Nothing clever to say?” Her patience was already worn thin, clear in the sharp edge of her voice and the glare she sent his way. But Darla had spent long enough with the younger vampire to know how he was, and quiet wasn't it.
