Top five herself_nyc fics

[kcarolj65.livejournal.com]

Top 5 Fics by herself_nyc

It’s probably no secret that I unashamedly worship herself_nyc’s amazing talent, which she’s generously applied in many wonderful Spike/Buffy stories. What I love most about her writing – and what deliciously breaks my heart every time and keeps me coming back for more – is that she never falls into the trap of making Spike and Buffy’s relationship easy for either of them. In her stories they have to work at it almost constantly, deal with their differences and their similarities as well as everything a Slayer’s existence can throw at them, thereby lending this most supernatural relationship a deep sense of realism and truth. The joy and angst she portrays are painfully exquisite, beautifully written and mesmerizing.

It’s hard to pick five favorites from among the wealth, but as of this minute,

Mating – Post-NFA, Buffy makes a rather surprising (or is it?) decision about the two souled vampires in her life. Hot, with a liberal dose of angst.

Not My Beautiful House – NFA. Canon-Spike switches places with Bittersweets-Spike. You don’t have to have read “Bittersweets” to get the gist of this, though it might help (and I can’t recommend that series highly enough). Heartbreaking and enchanting.

Spike’s Girl – Post-NFA. (Hmm…I’m sensing a pattern here. Unintentional, I assure you.) Buffy unknowingly stakes Spike’s girlfriend, and has to deal with the fallout. But Spike doesn’t want to.

What She Deserves – Post-Grave. Buffy takes a cross-country trip in the DeSoto and runs into Spike in the last place she would have expected: New York City. But he’s not alone. Be sure to read the sequels, Lovingkindness, First Time and Yes.

Where They Have to Take You In – “Bittersweets” series. One of the most devastating and moving stories I’ve ever read. Also includes my all-time favorite Spike/Angel; I mean, who wouldn’t appreciate this:

Wouldn't ever say it out loud to him, an' thank Christ the old pouf was too slow-witted to twig to it — but it was a deep solace, having sire penetrate him, breathing in Angel's scent, supporting his weight, enormous and heavy and close. The overwhelming force of his physical demand quieted the swirling thoughts. Bent double with his legs curled around the columns of Angel's rigid arms, mouth pressed open to Angel's rummaging tongue, Angel's cock stretching him like a fist, he could be Will again, Will whose only responsibility in the moment was to give Daddy a real good ride.

He'd taught Buffy to be good with the strap-on, but that wasn't this: nothing was this. He hadn't had it for more than a century, but when Angel pushed into him, time collapsed. It was brand new, the astonishment of submitting to him. His own body became strange and new—his cock, previously everything, nearly forgotten, his ass undergoing a transformation from something that was just there into the rough path to the most low dirty bliss.
…
He'd forgotten some of the positions, but Angel remembered them all, and his own body remembered. Remembered, and conformed, and was comforted by this blunt invasion, by the cruel pinches to his nipples, the crushing grip that left hand-prints on his pale flesh. Angel dragged him into place by his hips, letting the rest of him fall away or follow. Dicked him for long minutes together like a girl, like a whore, bruising clench of hands on arms, thighs. Then broke the rhythm to offer his mouth for a kiss like wet velvet. Or dragged Spike's head up to his mouth to whisper wetly into his ear, "You're mine. I made you and you've never not been mine."

See what I mean? Go, treat yourself to the wonderfulness here.