Your sweetheart season event is so incredibly cute, I love it!
And I can't believe you write for Spike! I just gotta send a request in.
I was hoping I could request something with Spike x fem or gn reader, no preference, for the Valentine's Date Planner event? I was thinking of stargazing and the prompt "I can't stop thinking about you" from the lots and lots of flirting list. I was hoping it could have a soft and sweet undertone if that's okay?
If you write this, thank you so much!
Have a great rest of your day/night and I really hope you enjoy writing these events as much as I know I, and countless others, will enjoy reading them!
title; all I see is you
pairing; spike x fem!reader
prompt/s; "I can't stop thinking about you" — lots and lots of flirting prompt list
The night air carried a faint chill, the kind that made you grateful for someone to lean against. You'd driven out past the edge of town, where the streetlights gave up, and the sky opened wide—like someone had punched holes in black velvet just to let the light spill through.
Spike had insisted on the spot. "None of that poncy observatory rubbish," he'd grumbled earlier, cigarette dangling from his lips as he leaned against the hood of his DeSoto. "Real stars need real dark. Trust me, pet. Been lookin' at 'em longer than your great-great-grannies were in nappies."
Now the two of you were stretched out on a thick blanket he'd somehow produced from the trunk—black, of course, because Spike. A half-empty bottle of cheap red wine sat between you. He'd called it "plonk," but he'd still poured you the first glass with surprising care. The grass was cool beneath the fabric, and every so often a breeze rustled the leaves overhead.
You tilted your head back, tracing constellations you half-remembered from school. Orion. The Big Dipper. Nothing fancy, but beautiful in their quiet way.
Spike was quiet beside you, unusually so. No quips about how humans romanticized twinkling gas balls, no mocking poetry references. Just the soft rhythm of his unnecessary breathing, slow and steady, like he was trying to match yours.
You turned your face toward him. The moonlight caught the sharp lines of his cheekbones, turned his bleached hair almost silver. His eyes—those piercing blue eyes—were fixed on the sky, but you could tell his thoughts were somewhere else.
"Penny for 'em?" you asked softly.
He huffed a small laugh, the sound low and fond. "Dangerous currency, love. Might bankrupt you." But he rolled onto his side, propping his head on one hand so he could look at you properly. The motion brought him closer; you could smell the faint leather of his duster mixed with smoke and something uniquely him.
"Been thinkin'," he said after a moment, voice quieter than usual. "About you."
Your heart gave a little skip. "Yeah?"
"Can't seem to help it." He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with the backs of his fingers—gentle, almost hesitant, like he was afraid he'd break something fragile. "Day or night. Awake or… whatever passes for sleep with me. You're there. In my head. Under my skin. I can't stop thinking about you."
The words hung between you, simple and unguarded. No grand declarations, no dramatic flourishes—just the truth, raw and quiet, the way only Spike could deliver it when the walls were down.
You felt warmth bloom in your chest, soft and steady. "Spike…"
He gave a crooked half-smile, the kind that didn't quite hide the vulnerability underneath. "Soppy, yeah? Big bad vampire gone all soft over a girl and a few stars. Dru'd laugh herself sick. Or stake me. One or the other."
You shifted closer until your shoulder pressed against his. "I like it. The soft part."
His gaze dropped to your lips for a second, then back up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. His skin was cool, but the contact sent warmth racing up your arm anyway. "I think about you, too. All the time."
He exhaled, a sound that was half-laugh, half-relief, and tugged you gently until you were curled against his side, your head resting on his chest. No heartbeat, but the rise and fall was there if you listened close enough, like he was breathing just for this moment.
"Look," he murmured, pointing upward with his free hand. "Right there. That bright one? Venus. Evenin' star. Bloody poetic, innit? All glow and mystery. Reminds me of you."
You smiled into the leather of his coat. "Flatterer."
"Truth, pet." His arm tightened around you, thumb tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. "Whole bloody sky full of stars, and all I see is you."
The night stretched on—quiet, endless, perfect. No apocalypses, no demons, no pasts clawing at the edges. Just the two of you, a blanket, and a universe that for once felt kind enough to let you have this.
You tilted your chin up, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I can't stop thinking about you either."
Spike's eyes softened, the smirk melting into something real and tender. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss that tasted like wine and starlight and forever possibilities.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. "Good," he whispered. "Means I'm doin' somethin' right."
I love your spike imagines and I was wondering if you could write more of them, maybe ones where you are all upset and having a bad day because you are insecure and you don't want to tell spike but it will angry him that you feel that way but eventually he makes you tell him, then he makes you feel better 🥺
The day was rough, to say the least.
(Y/n) had gone shopping with Buffy and the other girls. It was great. Fun even. Until they wanted her to try on a dress. Just one dress. She tried it on and it did not look good. It hugged her curves all wrong and to top it all off some snooty girls laughed at her. Called her names.
Buffy almost went after them herself, only stopped by Willow.
It was a day ruined, instead of going to lunch with them after their shopping she went home.
Except she wasn’t expecting her boyfriend Spike to be there. How did he get there when the sun was still out? He was in her room riffling through her drawers? Again?
“What are you doing here?”
“What? A man can’t come visit his girl?” He said flustered, quickly shoving the sweater he was about to steal back into the drawer. What can he say? It was hard to sleep without her smell.
Her hand ended up on her hip, staring at him. “You are a vampire. It’s a sunny afternoon in California.”
“Alright, you got me there. But since you are here...” He stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She walked in deeper into her bedroom, laying down.
Spike rolled his eyes.
“Babe,”
“Spike... please.”
He sat down next to her, the leather of his jacket was cool against her hot skin. “Please.” She begged, quite close to tears from the horrible day. The bed squeaked slightly, turning her back to the blonde vampire.
“Come on, love.” He hated to see her upset. Whoever upset her was asking to be hurt. Honestly, he didn’t care how much it would hurt him. “Tell me?” She sniffled, wet tears began to dribbled down her cheeks. Finally she turned to look at him, he looked so worried. “Baby.” He pulled her close to him, smelling of dirt and leather, a bit of stale cigarettes and his own natural smell.
“It was so stupid,” she explained. The whole story from the beginning.
“I’m gonna kill’em.” Spike said instantly once the story was over.
Her eyes went wide. “Don’t.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Alright... but if I find out who it was I’m gonna give them a talkin’ too”
He kissed her head gently. “Don’t worry about them, love. You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I’ve been around since fuck all.”
She laughed softly. “You’re body is sexy.” He ran his hands over her sides. “You’re probably the nicest person I know... I love you with every fiber of my being.” He mumbled, kissing her neck. “I hope you know that.”
Set in an alternate universe where you (reader) are one of the Scoobies. Befriended in season two, you come to know Sunnydale as it truly is: the Demon Capital. Until you meet a lonely, conflicted vampire who shows you that not all demons should be slayed.
This would be categorised as a reader insert, however I've tried to put some originality and creativity into it so it's not like you're just watching the show all over again.
Each chapter is a different season of the TV show, starting from season two. Hope you Spike fans enjoy!
You wanted to flinch away from his touch but couldn’t – didn’t want to. His fingertips held your jaw; kept your face upturned towards him. You wanted to move, you wanted to shove him one last time, but something kept you there against that wall. Something inside kept you still.
“I’ve been waiting all night, love,” his voice was quiet, and instead of a threatening tone, it was sincere; truthful.
You didn’t speak, instead you watched his blue eyes dart from yours to your lips, his thumb softly glided over them. You didn’t think it possible, but Spike came even closer to you, your bodies pressed against each other in the silence of the night. You wanted to yell for help, Buffy and the others were probably still in the library, but again, something held you back.
Curiosity.
Your voice quivered, and you trembled as his hand moved to your neck; your response lit up his eyes with excitement. You swallowed, “Are… are you going to feed on me?” You couldn’t help but sound pathetic and desperate, but if this was going to be your last moment alive, you wanted to know.
His eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw tensed, as if surprised by your question. His face leaned so close to yours that his lips brushed against the side of your mouth as he spoke in a hushed tone, “No, pet, I thought we would have some fun instead,” he paused a moment, his eyes lingered on your eyes before his lips pressed heatedly against yours, pressing you even closer to the storeroom wall. His hand slid from your neck down your body to rest on your waist.
You found yourself kissing him back, confused with guilt for wanting this and heated desire for more, you followed his lead.
His fingers curled at the hem of your shirt, the edges of his fingers barely brushed against bare skin underneath, and when he didn’t go any further you whimpered quietly between his kisses. “Mm,” he murmured, “Patience, love…” He brushed some strands of your hair behind your ear, looking into your eyes, “You’ve got to earn it.”
You initiated the next kisses, and Spike couldn’t help but smile into them from your sudden change in behavior. His ego was already big enough, but to know that he made you choose to do that only made him cockier. You held him close, your arms around his neck, a hand entwined in his blond hair, the breathing between you only grew heavier. Your thigh accidentally brushed over his bulge, and he hummed in want of more.
His eyes, alight with fiery desire, found yours again, and then he whispered into your ear, “I think you’ve earned it.”
You woke up in a bundled mess, wrapped in layers of blankets, overheated and dazed. You escaped the warmth of the blanket-burrow and your skin tingled as you drowned in the cool night air. “A dream…” you swallowed, trying to calm your rapid breathing. Even though it was only a dream, it was as real as the actual memory. You thought back to the heated moments you shared with the oddly attractive vampire in the storeroom that night. The passion you felt. The desire for it to happen again ever since.
You sighed and rested your chin on your hand, sitting on the edge of your bed; you felt the same guilt, especially since Buffy didn’t know you were in lust after a vamp. That guilt usually dissipated when you saw him— when you saw Spike, and of course that only made you feel worse. But you couldn’t just forget about that time in the storeroom… especially since Spike practically never let you forget it, every time you were in a fight with his cronies he always made a point to remind you mid-battle how good he tasted. His eyes would glaze over your body and he would lick his lips intentionally, communicating his desire. Sometimes his hand would just reach for your face, to feel you on his skin again. Other times he would make crude sex jokes that you would only roll your eyes to, especially if the others heard.
Only now did you notice the extremity of the chill in the air. Your eyes snapped instinctively to your bedroom window, and you saw that it had been pulled open, your curtains fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze. You instantly frowned, knowing that you would never leave your window open before drifting off to sleep. Ever. Especially since it was Sunnydale, the party-town for demons all shapes and sizes. You leaped from your bed to the window in an instant, shivering at the thought of some unknown creature jumping in through your window. But as you were just about to push it back down and lock it up, a face appeared – and you yelped with a start.
“Hush, pet, or your parents will hear us, and God knows they can’t see you with a mysterious man lurking near your room.” The smirk on his lips and the challenging twinkle in his eyes only surprised you even further.
“What…” you took a step away from the window, “What are you doing here, Spike?” you whispered harshly, looking around as if your parents might pop out of anywhere.
“Aw, no pet names?” He winked, “I’m here to see you, clearly.” He clung onto the window frame, although it probably didn’t take much strength for a vampire. “Gonna invite me in or should I just hang here all night?”
You eyed him for a moment, questioning your morals, like always; wondering if it would really be a good idea to invite him inside. He’d have access from now on, is that really a smart move? Buffy would say no, of course… but how are you supposed to deny those eyes and that smirk of his? You sighed, and he could tell that you were hesitating. He pouted those lips and tilted his head, “If the sexy smolder won’t work, I can try innocent begging, if you like?”
You crossed your arms over your chest, “This isn’t healthy.”
He looked at you, amused, “Desirable things never are.”
“Buffy would kill me.”
“She’d probably try to kill me too, if that’s any consolation.”
You began to pace in front of the window, “Look, Spike—”
“I’d really prefer it if you called me babe—”
“Look, Spike, you can’t just rock up at my window during the night at any old time you want.”
He rolled his eyes, “Thought you might enjoy a little excitement in your mundane life every now and then.”
“Well —hey,” you glared at him, “My life is not mundane.”
He pursed his lips and only looked expectantly at you.
“This… this isn’t normal,” you continued.
His eyes fell to your bedroom floor, his jaw tensed. “I know.” He shook his head, “I know it’s not normal, but I can’t help how I feel about you.” His eyes found yours again, “I think about you all the damn time.”
You thought back to the dream you just had tonight, and realised you couldn’t stop thinking about him either. You couldn’t help how you felt, either, and the way he stared at you now with such pulsing desire and need for you, you couldn’t help but want it too. You took another step back from the window, “Come in.”
He blinked in surprise but climbed in through the window and closed it behind him. You didn’t move from your spot; you only watched his eyes as he stepped closer to you. He shed his long, leather jacket onto a nearby chair, and when he reached you he looked at you questioningly. Those eyes searched yours. As soon as you nodded, even slightly, his lips were instantly against yours, and you were flooded with the same feeling as the last time you kissed. This time his hands didn’t waste any time, and instead of teasing you he immediately slid your shirt off as he pushed you towards your bed.
As he hovered over you, you took this moment to unbutton his own shirt while he kissed you; hard, like it might be the last time. He easily slid out of his shirt, and his kisses left your mouth and pressed against your neck, trailing over your breasts and down your stomach. The two of you moved together, in sync, somehow knowing what the other wanted.
He came back to kiss your mouth again, your bodies close and heated, but not entirely vulnerable. When Spike reached for the waistband of your pajama shorts, you paused. A second of hesitation, and the vampire felt it immediately. He found your eyes, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
You weren’t not sure how much truth there was behind those blue eyes and cautious look, for he still was a vampire. A half-demon. He was Spike, the vampire, not just some lousy teen from your high school or a trashy older guy in a local band.
“I don’t think I can do this,” the feeling, it hit you completely but it was a realization that you needed. This just wasn’t the right time yet. Something was missing, and maybe you weren’t so sure about what it was now, but you might one day soon.
He smiled gently, brushing your hair back away from your face, an endearing act he’d adopted for you only, “That’s okay, love. I want you to be sure.”
He kissed you, and instead of hard and fast, it was careful and slow. It was needing, still, but peaceful and content. Almost… you think to yourself, almost loving. But that word and a vampire just didn’t make any sense. He collapsed beside you on your bed, laying on his back, and his arm scooped you closer to him so that you were now lying on your side facing him. You cautiously placed your arm over his chest —a new intimacy like this between you two was indifferent; but nice.
You kissed his neck gently, and said, “Is this you… staying the night?”
He kissed your nose and made a small noise like a hmph, “Of course. I just got here, I don’t want to leave yet.”
You yawned widely and cuddled in closer to him.
He noticed your sleepiness and held you tighter, “That’s right, I woke you, didn’t I?”
“Nope,” you said in between another oncoming set of yawns, “I was already awake.”
“At this hour?”
You rolled your eyes, “I… had a dream, and woke up from it.”
“Hm,” he turned his head so he was looking at you better, “What kind of dream, a nightmare?”
You stuttered almost completely, “N-no, just… just a dream.”
He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes, you knew he knew you were somewhat lying, or at least anxious to keep the details away from him. “Are you lying?” his voice was challenging, but amused, and you were too late in keeping him out of it because he’d only try to dig further.
“Spike, it was just a dream. Just a stupid, normal dream.”
He raised a brow, “Then tell me about it. I don’t dream… often.”
“Uh,” you glanced around nervously, unable to hold his stare, “It’s pretty boring, trust me.”
Suddenly his eyes were alight, and you knew from that look that he figured it out, “You been dreaming of me, darling?”
Your eyes widened, and you turned away from him entirely, shuffling your body a few inches away from him. You couldn’t look at him in the eyes or even touch him as you admitted the truth, “Maybe…”
“Y/N…” you heard his voice coo softly behind you, but you tried to ignore it. You felt his arms wrap around your stomach as he scooted closer to you, but still you faced away from him.
He tried to coax you back by touching your face, but you wouldn’t budge, “Don’t be embarrassed, if I could, I would only dream of you.”
“Mm,” you replied, keeping your face turned, “I’m still embarrassed.”
“What was it of then?”
“Us,” you felt his light, messy kisses against the back of your shoulder, placed anywhere he felt like.
“Go on,” he prodded, before he continued to litter your skin with kisses.
“The first time we… you know… made out, at school, in the storeroom.”
He laughed into your skin, and you felt the vibrations, “What a great night that was.”
“It was not! I thought you were going to kill me!”
“Yeah, so, I didn’t, did I?!” he buried his head into your back, “You were so cute and innocent,” he laughed, “Still are.”
“And you scared the shit out of me.”
“Well, by then I thought you understood what I wanted, I mean, I don’t flirt as often in battle as I did with you. Especially when they try to stake my heart.”
You immediately turned around to face him again, heated with anger, “That was only…” you began to trail off in realization, your voice becoming quiet, “A few times, maybe.”
“Try five at the very least.”
“Well—” you stopped talking as you noticed his amused blue eyes and that smirk, “Stop trying to annoy me.”
“Doesn’t take much.”
You shoved his shoulder and he only laughed, which in turn made you laugh back, “You’re terrible.”
“Oh, you love it,” his eyes flashed in the dark, and he pressed his lips against yours. You couldn’t help but feel excited and energized with his every touch, it was something still so new to you, and you couldn’t ever imagine having this with anyone else. It somewhat frightened you, but it also only made you hold him dearer.
You kept kissing him back, addicted to him, you couldn’t help it. And he knew it. “Love?” he asked, quietly.
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
You broke away from the kisses completely, “What for?”
“For this.”
You searched his eyes, not sure entirely what he meant by it, but you thought you might. You thought you might understand because you were lonely before you met him, you were by yourself too. You brought his hand up to your lips, kissing his fingers softly. He smiled, his eyes not leaving yours. You spoke quietly, “Thank you, too, Spike.”
He pulled you close to him, and soon you both fell asleep together.
Plot: You are from the less than perfect side of Sunnydale. A lookout for your friends who experiment with different drugs and unsafe habits, you notice that more and more of the regulars at your frequented places keep disappearing. The Scooby Gang notice that more and more dead bodies are piling around the city, usually unreported. Spike enlists your knowledge of the place to help take down the Big Bads there.
A warehouse in the darker side of Sunnydale had been transformed into a stylishly shady hangout full of blood-drinkers, demons, and careless people looking for a good time. The music was throbbing and deep and only barely covering the rather loud noises emanating from the pleased party goers. It was dark inside the building, with pairs and groups of people hidden in even darker corners away from the dim lights and curious eyes
You kissed the bouncer demon’s cheek as you and Spike stepped through a pair of doors and into the real party. Spike tried to play it cool but it had been a while since he had been around other vampires thanks to the chip in his head. He wondered if anyone would question his sudden absence from murdering humans. As of late, whenever he met with another vampire, they ended up a pile of dust. Not much good for conversation.
A very thin woman dressed in baggy clothes came running towards the two of you. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders in a friendly embrace before pulling away to look at you again. You had seen her around there before when you had been lookout for your friends. Every time you saw her the woman seemed to be fading away faster and faster. The marks that could be seen on her exposed neck were deep purple and clustered together so closely you wondered if it weren’t just one giant hole by then. Her eyes were wide and glassy, reminding Spike somewhat of the gaze Drusilla used to have. It sent a shiver up his spine; the vague look of madness reminded him how he had had his own brain in the hands of another.
“I thought you didn’t play.” The woman ran a slightly shaking hand down Spike’s leather clad arm. “But you really came to play. I’ll let you two get to it.”
The vulgarness of her expression was almost enough to make you leave. Ever since you had agreed to do this you couldn’t help but feel anxious. You had seen people do this, even now could hear the sounds of the other clients, a mix of extreme pain and ecstasy. You took Spike’s hand and pulled him onto a couch where you had a view of the door that led to the exclusive part of the club. Whoever was taken through those doors was never seen alive again.
Spike removed his leather jacket, revealing what he always wore; a black button up shirt with the first buttons undone. You followed his lead and removed your jacket as well, leaving the shoulders exposed.
Spike leaned over you, staring intently with his blazing blue eyes. The look was predatory and hungry, primally frightening so that all you could think about was running. Instinctively you gulped and he smirked. “How do you want to do this love?” The group had already discussed the fact that the chip implanted in his head would prevent him from causing the wound himself so they would have to find alternative means.
Taking a deep breath, you pressed a sharp edge of your ring against your shoulder until it broke skin. You winced. One of Spike’s hand went up to your chin to tilt it back and more fully expose the wound you had created. As soon as his tongue darted out to taste the sweet life force your hand flew to tangle itself through his hair. Fear ran through you, that primal drive to fight and flee away from the man that could drain you dry. The club didn’t allow vamps to kill anyone because it would look bad and no humans who agree to go. But that didn’t stop the occasional “accident” from happening or stop the VIP from killing who they wanted. Luckily the fear and adrenaline were combining with the feeling of being held by an attractive man to make an increasingly pleasurable endorphin cocktail.
It had been so long since Spike had tasted warm human blood. For a moment he wondered if he would be able to stop himself from going too far as his pupils dilated and his mind was consumed by the taste. Feeling your blood pumping quickly under his hand, hearing the sound of your heartbeat hammering inside your chest, it was driving Spike mad. When a gasp escaped your lips he pulled back, sure he had gone too far. Instead he was met with heavily flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, and heavy breathing. You laughed breathlessly, fumbling to press a hand on his cheek. This was a good idea, he decided as he stared into your elated eyes. He really liked this idea.
Your head was swimming more than had been anticipated. You had always been the lookout, the sober soldier making sure that if anyone overdosed or got into trouble they would make it out alive. It wasn’t often that you allowed yourself to give in to the high. The memory could never compare to the feeling of the high that was racing in your veins.
Trying to remain focused on the actual mission at hand, Spike watched the people being led up to the VIP room, taking note of what they looked like. It seemed to be exactly the kind of people who wouldn’t be missed; runaway kids, people who hit a low spot in life. It was sad that this was the end for some stories. They’d never have the chance to fix things.
All the while, you were hazily running your hand through Spike’s hair, over his shirt, even the couch’s soft fabric. Occasionally he would put his mouth back on your skin and break the seal that would start to form over the cut so that little droplets of blood came. When his tongue ran over the wound you wrapped your hands around his arms, eyes wide as you tried not to get lost in the rush again.
A couple hours later Spike was carrying you back to Buffy’s house. He had taken note of four different people taken up to the off limit part of the club and was sure he could identify them if their dead bodies were found.
When Spike arrived, Giles took your mostly unconscious body and laid it on the couch. As the Watcher took time to check that there was enough blood left in your body to keep you alive, Spike busied himself with telling Tara and Willow descriptions of the unlucky chosen ones of the night. There would be no immediate closure to this issue given the fact that the bodies were usually found a few days post mortem but it was a start. If the club is a front for murder then they can shut it down.
“I think I deserve a heroes welcome for all the hard work accomplished tonight.” Spike announced proudly, placing his hands on his hands. The comment was immediately met with disdain from everyone within hearing range.
“For what?” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest as she walked closer to the vampire. “Drinking this person’s blood and taking descriptions of some people there who might be dead by nore? It’s gonna take a lot more than that to prove anything Spike.”
