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."
In another universe I just know spike is the true sire to the lost boys. I mean, c'mon! He meets their freak to a whole other level! 100% the original lost boy and I'll die on this hill. Move along Max, you are not their daddy.
