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inkpot909 · 1 year

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When The Kids are Asleep (One-Shot)

↳ Spike Spiegel x Fem!Reader: She/her pronouns are used for the reader.

Summary: Insecurity is the poison that kills relationships before they even have a chance begin. Luckily Spike Spiegel is around to set things right; to let you know that it’s all in your head.

Warning(s): Swearing. Slight nsfw.

Sitting upright on the Bebop’s bright yellow couch, your mind is focused intently on the book you hold open before you.

Not often do you get to indulge in a new story. Although reading is a hobby you enjoy, being a member of the Bebop means your priorities are understandably elsewhere. It’s not unlike your companions to splurge on hobby items and clothes, but a soft heart makes your approach to spending different. Or more accurately- your lack thereof.

But the latest bounty was certainly a rough one- with a hefty reward to match. So much so, that Faye let out a long huff of relief after taking her share of the reward, rather than putting up an argument over the amount or suggesting to go window-shopping with you. Regardless, it just so happened after collecting your own fair share, you found a secondhand store on your walk back to the Bebop. You’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up at the large sign displaying a proud title for the quant store. Disappearing inside, you return just minutes later along with an award for a job well-done and a gleeful expression.

And better yet, a tiring bounty calls for people to turn in early. Sleep entices you, just as it coaxed all your companions to bed. However, to hell if you aren’t going to take advantage of a silent Bebop. Staying up in comfortable quiet isn’t something you plan for often, even less does it ever actually come to fruition. In your head, tonight was decidedly different, and the universe mercifully granted you that desired peace.

There’s only one light on in the common area, just bright enough to make your book legible. With a head bent down, your hair casts a shadow over your relaxed face. Shadows dance around your body’s curves, vegged out in contentment. Just by glancing at your unmoving form, it would be easy for one to imagine the long day you’ve had.

Lost in your story, the small kinks that accompany the Bebop fly over your head. Distant sounds of machinery are drowned out by the flood your book provides, and you’re right there with them. Floating down further and further until your surroundings are completely off the mind.

“Don’t you think this Jean character is a bit of an airhead?” a voice calls from above you. Jumping, a tiny yelp escapes your lips.

Lifting your head, you find the source of the voice only when you crank your neck back further. The muscles around it and across your shoulders groan, but a pair of mismatched brown eyes keep you from listening.

Spike’s standing right behind the couch, looming over you. His front pressed to the back of the couch, lazily holding the weight of his bent torso. Your faces are mere centimeters apart, something that doesn’t hinder his bored expression. His eyes stay glued to yours, forcing your neck forward, pulling your own from his.

To think simply his body language and carefree voice is enough to make you jumpier than Ein on special mushrooms…

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you mumble, flicking the pages of your book.

“I don’t understand how you can read that crap,” Spike replies, hoisting his body over the couch. He lands on his feet and smoothly plops down onto the cushions next to you. Grinning, he adds, “What? Am I not entertaining enough?”

Your eyes widen, the answer to his question dying on your lips.

Deep inside you, a warm feeling has been growing. The foolish hope that Spike meant all the sweet nothings he threw your way. Casual flirting has long been a staple of your relationship. Spike oozed confidence around you, a trick you happily fall for each time. You stroke his ego and he flusters you beyond what words can express. Ever since the fateful day you’d stowed away on the Bebop- desperate for food, desperate for a home -your relationship with him had been far different in comparison to anyone else.

But even still, insecurity plagued your mind. Aren’t his actions all part of some game? Chasing your reactions only to pass the time; to make the life he leads a tiny bit easier. Born from boredom and nothing else.

To believe you’re special… how positively laughable.

“I didn’t hear you at all,” you sheepishly admit, “I thought everyone went to bed.”

“I tried; too pent up from today to get any shut-eye,” Spike replies, staring down seemingly at nothing. “I was practicing some fighting forms, but needed a break. Then I found your cute little silhouette curled up on the couch and the night’s been looking up ever since.”

“Even if I didn’t see you?”

Spike’s eyebrows furrowed, waving his hands up in the air dramatically. “I don’t understand what that book has that I don’t!”

For one thing, it’s both forward and honest with me, you think, not daring to say such a thing to his face. Regardless of your inner bitterness, his words bring a smile to your face and a laugh follows suit. “Keep reading and you’ll find out,” you quip, raising a brow.

“No way in hell,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’ll leave the reading to the critically gifted.”

“So you admit it- you’re completely clueless. Didn’t even know what you’re criticizing,” you test playfully, gently setting the book down on the coffee table.

“Oi! I still know an idiot when I see one- and that Jean is one hell of a brainless protagonist.”

You snort, finding his confidence endearing. Spike always tried pushing your buttons in this way, and regardless of the fight you put up, you always surrender to his occasional goofiness. Even still…

You sigh, moving your gaze from him. This isn’t the first time he’s sought you out specifically while by yourself. The whole dynamic… it makes your heart flutter with both positive and negative possibilities. Your heart desperately cries for just a chance he may think the world of you, while your head shuts down all hope.

In the moment, you feel both sides collide with one another. Without thinking properly beforehand, you finally meet his gaze head-on once again. A frown now is spread across your face, and his shoulders dip as you ask, “You do this with Faye too, don’t you?”

Spike’s lighthearted expression twists into a confused one, tilting his head to the side. For someone who hates Ein as much as he claims, he sure as hell shares some of the same mannerisms as the pooch. “What are you going on about?” he hums, keeping his voice purposefully low on volume.

“This,” you wildly gesture to both him and yourself, “This-… this…”

“This, what...?” he coaxed, clearly not about to let this go despite your flaming cheeks. This is a bed you’ve never wanted to make for yourself, far too aware that Spike would make damn sure you sleep in it. Sleep deprivation and a long day are just the straw to break the camel’s back.

“This… flirting game you play,” you go on, voice shaking, “It’s flustering… and you never do it in front of everyone else.”

“You want me to?” he asks, genuinely surprised. He puckers his lips in thought, adding in a mumble, “I thought you were the shy type.”

“What?”

“What-?”

The two of you stop speaking, baffled faces glued to one another. Maybe tiredness from a long day really isn’t to blame. Perhaps it’s the fact that everyone else is in bed that makes you so direct- an opportune time. This is between you and Spike alone, which is why you've never gone to Faye or Jet for support.

Faye... you ponder. Or maybe it’s because I’m always nervous whenever Faye and Spike are close. They had both stepped up much today, working together flawlessly despite bickering the entire time. It feels ridiculous to be so worried; it’s clear they cannot stand one another. Yet they look good together... that much you have to admit. And although they deny it profusely, they share a certain amount of concern for each other.

Whatever insecurity is specifically plaguing you at this very moment, one thing is for certain to you: I’m sick of being flirted with- frustrated with the teasing and the sly looks. What this is… it isn’t tangible. It’s not real.

“Y/n…” Spike sighs, dropping his head and pulling you from your mind. He’s turned away now, but continues to sneak peaks at you out the corner of his good eye. “What do you think I take you for?”

Your hands tremble. Once again, you have a hard time answering. Instead of coming up with something this time around, you suddenly stand up from the couch. You know what? Maybe you can run away. Stretching, you let out an obnoxious yawn. “Don’t worry about it,” you act, “Anyways, I really should-“

“Y/n…” Spike mutters, halting your movement. His voice is quiet- soft, even. As he speaks, his hand reaches out for one of your own. “Talk to me... what's so wrong all of a sudden?” His pleading eyes leave you no choice, as well as a skip of your heartbeat.

“I- but, you…” you stutter, slowly sitting back down. Seemingly pleased with this, his grip on you loosens. If only a little bit.

Spike’s eyes travel around your face, searching. For a moment, his eyebrows knit together even further. “Y/n… you deserve more than you give yourself credit,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and pulling his hand away.

Lifting your gaze, it’s now his turn to bashfully avoid eye-contact. Placing both hands behind his head, he kicks his feet up in a quick attempt to seem nonchalant. But Spike performs laziness as if it’s a career. To the point where if he’s not truly relaxed, everyone knows- you know.

“You always say things like that,” you huff, unable to help your bitterness. Now that the cat’s getting dragged out the bag, there’s no point in hiding your frustration. After all, if it is one big game- you won’t find it all too amusing. “But only now… only when we’re alone.”

“So?”

Frustration boils within your chest. “So!? So you need to stop. It’s confusing.”

“You’ve never stopped me before.”

His words eat you alive. Spike is right- you cannot say that you’ve ever lectured him over his flirtatiousness before tonight. But him being right isn’t on your current agenda, which means he must be wrong.

“Not true!” you huff. The face he pulls makes it clear that he is buying the lie even less than you are yourself.

Sighing once more, Spike’s body dips into the couch even further. He scoots closer to you, pausing and waiting for you to pull away or chastise him. When you do neither, he throws his arm around you casually.

“Spike…?” you ask, frustration diffusing at his facial expression. He shuffles himself even closer, both your thighs brushing up against one another. Glancing between your eyes and lips, he finally says, “When the kids are all asleep… isn’t it only natural to flirt out of sight? Trust me, you've always been worth the wait.”

Flirt…

“What are you trying to say...?”

“It's clear that you like me. I'm not oblivious, y'know,” he chuckles, “I can see how you stare, and how you react to my every action is only more evidence piling together. But you always get so shy... I thought you wouldn’t be happy with me openly flirting with you in front of everyone; they can be quite the teasing bunch.”

Blinking, you drink up his words with a baffled expression plastered on your face. In his own way, he makes it plain as day: This isn’t a game. Fun for him, certainly, but not in the sick, selfish way you had wrongfully assumed.

“Is… is that really how you see it?” you ask, voice hopeful. “You're just... honestly trying to flirt with me?”

“Of course,” he makes a face, “I dunno why you’d think I’d act this way with Faye.”

You shrug, “She’s three times the woman I’ll ever-”

A pair of heated lips cut off your words. Across the room, you hear a droplet of water fall from a creaky pipe above to the harsh floor. For a split moment, Spike stayed completely still against your lips. Your eyes are glued wide open, observing his which are screwed tightly shut. His hand had instinctively reached forward, gripping your forearm in a silent plea for you to stay put. His buttocks is lifted into the air, uncomfortably keeping himself bent down and holding his position.

Just now mentally recovering from the action, Spike’s lips gently pull away. He mutters cheekily, “You really need to stop comparing yourself to others- and stop talking about them to me,” He plants a kiss to your lips, ghosting his lips over them as he adds, “I only wanna focus on you, sweetheart.” He tilts his head to the side, nose poking your cheek as he meets your lips once more. You weakly kiss him back, lips quivering and hands sweaty. Despite your nerves, you allow him to pepper your lips with short but desperate kisses.

A minute passes before he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he slowly sinks back into the couch cushions. He’s sitting much closer to you this time around, your legs touching and torsos twisted in each others’ direction. Something sad taints his eyes, sinking your rapidly-beating heart. Giving your arm a gentle squeeze, he tells you in a whisper, “You really didn’t get it before... did you?”

“I-... I suppose not,” you reply, breathless.

“I’m sorry I confused you,” he murmurs.

“Spike… it’s okay… I assumed the worst and-...”

He raises a hand, a passive request for you to stop your sentence there. Following along, you shut your mouth again. A smile plays on his lips, using the hand he’d raised to cup your chin. His lithe fingers brush against your skin with care, tilting your head so that you felt no other option than to look into his eyes.

“I like when you say my name…” he practically purrs, wrapping his free hand around your waist. “I don’t wanna have to hear anyone else say it.” Your cheeks turn a flushed red color, only egging him on to continue. “And…” he nuzzles your nose with his own, “And I’d love it if you'd indulge me some more.”

“S-Spike…” you sigh, heart leaping thousands of feet away from any ground surface. He bites his lip, but waits for you to finish your thought this time. Instead, you merely sigh again and lean forward.

Getting the hint, a tug around your waist pulls you towards him, and once more you're engulfed in his kisses. Lifting your hands, you rest them against his chest and kiss him back. His hand moves from your chin to the back of your head. Spike’s fingertips massage your scalp, running through your hair and making a quick mess of it. His lips move faster than before; the sound of sloppy kisses fill the common area’s late-night serenity.

Spike bites down on your lower lip, wiping his tongue over the tiny mark temporarily left behind before slipping inside your mouth. You sigh, a tiny whimper accompanying the release of air. His tongue dances around yours. “Spike…” you hum between kisses. Your hands slide up his chest, wrapping around his neck. Your body lifts as you do so, now pressed against him and radiating more warmth between you two.

He pulls away, stomach visually rising and falling. Loosening his tie first, he also releases the first couple of buttons running down the front of his shirt. His bare chest pokes out as he leans back, propping himself up only by his elbows. Grabbing your hand, he beckons you closer with half-lidded eyes, and guides your body to lay comfortably on top of him.

“Come here…” he sighs, tugging you forward by the collar of your shirt. Lips conform to one another, kissing and lightly biting. A hand travels down your side, cupping the bottom of your ass.

You use his hand to direct the movement of your hips, slowly rocking against his. A shiver rolls down your spine at the contact, making contact with something hardening against your clothed core. Spike pushes back, softly groaning into your lips, “Fuck... this is okay?”

You simply nod, not trusting your words.

Shaking his head, he trails his kisses along your jaw. Pushing you further above him, Spike plants soft kisses down to your neck. “Mmh-” you huff, tilting your head and giving him more access.

“I need to hear you say it…” he grumbles, grinding against you with added vigor. “Please, baby…”

You nod again, eyes fluttering shut. He kisses a spot where your jawline and neck meet, sucking a mark onto your otherwise clear skin. Spike grins; your neck’s a blank canvas he intends to utilize.

“Yes…” you mutter, a tremble present in your voice. “Spike... yes, it's okay…”

Biting down on your neck, his hand traces from your ass back up your side again. It lingers for a moment before moving to your front, cupping your breast through your shirt. “Say that again,” he moans, “My name like that…”

“Spike…” you sigh, giggling delicately at his desperation.

“Again...?” he pleads, pulling away from your neck. He peers up at you, eyes hazy with want. He slowly moves his hand down your stomach, tracing the hem of your shorts with a single fingertip.

You press your forehead against his, arching your back. “Spike…” you groan, bucking your hips eagerly. Smirking, he wraps a finger around the material’s waistband and snaps it teasingly against your skin. With a few more kisses planted to your lips, he gingerly slips his hand in your shorts. Moving with a sloth-like pace, his fingers reach your clothed core and gently rub against your wetness. “Mmh... Spike…” you moan, not needing a request this time.

“What the hell-?!” A booming voice shouts from the doorway leading out into the Bebop’s main corridor. A metal crash and another sharp sound follows immediately.

You and Spike freeze, clinging to each other despite the compromising position. His hand is still halfway down your shorts, his shirt is unbuttoned, and the both of you are sweating buckets. Add rosy cheeks- as well as widened eyes -and it’s no doubt the two of you look like a couple of deers in headlights.

Moving in tandem, you both turn to the doorway. Jet is standing there, just as frozen solid as you’d been a second ago. On the floor is a metal watering can, still emptying out onto the floor and getting the man’s shoes soaked. Next to it is a tiny bonsai, roots and dirt seeping from the now-broken pot.

You sit up, finally finding yourself. Spike removes his hands from you completely, and you do the same. Hastily, you trip over your words in an attempt to explain, “I-I-... Jet... we-we were just, uhh-...”

Jet waves his arms and shakes his head. “No no! I get it!” he roughly exclaims, turning back around. “Seriously! Bring it to a damn bedroom you perverts... other people live here you know!” he shouts the last few words, walking back down the hall he’d originally came through.

“Shit…” you mumble, climbing off Spike.

He sits up, pulling a cigarette box from his pant’s pocket. Watching his hands move, Spike grabs a single cigarette and shoves it between his lips. “I suppose I should’ve mentioned that the kids weren’t actually asleep; meant it as a figure of speech. Sorry about that,” he chuckles, inhaling a huff. Your cheeks flare pink.

“Spike!”

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spike-and-faye · 24 days

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#I can just imagine him secretly watching them in his quarters while having a smoke #I know which movie I think - I’ll wait til the polls over to offer my thoughts ahahahha #cowboy bebop #jet black #twilight #the twilight saga #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #faye valentine #radical edward #spike Spiegel #poll

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tboywriter · 2 years

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Anywhere | Spike Spiegel x reader

pictures not mine, edit is mine gender neutral reader edited: yes warnings: angst, swearing, canon-level violence/blood, ambiguous ending, low-key/ possible death summary: Flying is the fastest form of travel but it always feels much slower when you need to be somewhere. Anywhere. a/n: idk why I've only been posting Spike smh. I have two other fics in the works for him too... I swear I write for other people I just never finish the fics... Also don't judge the song choice -- I started this a while ago and I don't have a good replacement.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Spike was pacing, his hand running through his thick green curls.

“I’m fine, Spike. I really am.” He knew you weren’t fine. The shock covered a lot of the pain so you weren’t technically lying, but the situation was much worse than you actually knew. Spike had to mentally slap himself. If Jet or Faye were there he would have asked them to hit him for real. He deserved much more than that.

He stopped and kneeled down in front of you. His eyes were trying to look into your own but you couldn’t focus. “Come on,” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “I know where to go.” He didn’t have much time to lose and he had already wasted so much being dumb. He was pacing and worrying when he should have been flying. Taking you somewhere. Anywhere.

He came over and lifted you as gently as he could. He was trying to be quick and ended up a little rough in his haste. You winced and he wanted to slap himself again for hurting you. He lowered into the Swordfish the best he could, arms around you as you tried your best to place your feet on the floor. Eventually he got into his seat and sat you across his lap, your head fell on his shoulder.

The ship was starting up, but it wasn’t fast enough for Spike. His whitened knuckles gripped the steering wheel with such force even the half dazed (Y/n) had noticed. “Calm down. Don’t stress yourself out… It’s alright.”

“Calm down? How can I--” He sighed. There was no use fighting with you. You were always so selfless, even when you were dying. He didn’t want to upset you, anyways. He didn’t know what you needed now except a doctor. But yelling at you didn’t seem like it would help.

“Spike.” He looked down at your tired eyes. Space was fleeting past, it was good they were in deep space or he might’ve gotten a ticket. Deep space, though, did not have any doctors. He originally thought of going to Jet on the Bebop but his level of expertise and available technology was far less than what you needed.

“Spike, it hurts…” Your eyebrows knit together loosely, obviously in pain but too weak to show it.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He kissed your forehead lightly and you moved in closer to him. Your cold nose brushed against his neck causing him to shiver. You two were already a bit stuffed in the small ship, but you appreciated his comfort. His warmth.

The two of you never left the other’s sides, even when he was catching the most dangerous bounties. You weren’t a bounty hunter, just some stray the crew had picked up. They had a knack for doing that. Spike knew you shouldn’t come along but he felt so protective of you. He never could find the strength to leave you behind, especially when you gave him those puppy eyes. The two of you were used to being abandoned and you neither wanted it to happen again. This made your friendship a really… close one.

Spike looked back up at the stars in front of him. He had no clue if he could find help where he was going but he needed to try. He was rushing to the closest planet, whatever one that might be. If he were to ruin another life because of his selfishness…

“Can we listen to music?” Spike was not in the mood for music, but he also wasn’t in the mood for making you feel worse than you already did. He clicked on the system, your music already hooked up from the amount of times you ride with him.

The song that came on was some old one that (Y/n) had found. It was from nearly 60 years ago now, from some genre Spike never cared about. (Y/n) loved it, though. You liked all the sad and relatable lyrics, the ones that you tried to mouth along to now. The ones that were piercing through Spike’s heart.

“Thinking about the past again. Darling, you'll be okay.” Spike couldn’t help but really listen to the words. The music he always poked fun at you for listening to was the same music that would be there to mock him as you died in his arms. ‘It’s both loud and sad, why do you like this again?’ ‘It’s called emo music,’ you had told him. ‘Emo means emotional! You’re supposed to find it sad and relatable.’

The next song came on and he could no longer hear your soft singing. You knew all the words and never missed a chance to sing along to it when you could. He looked down, seeing your eyes closed peacefully.

“(Y/n)?” As much as he was glad to see you rest, he couldn’t really tell the difference between your napping and, well. You were always such a soft breather too, always wanting to remain ignored and unseen, even while asleep.

“I’m awake… But really tired.” You spoke with your eyes closed, unable to find the strength to open them again. You pushed your face into Spike's neck, trying to get more comfortable under the circumstances. “Let me take a nap.”

“I know you’re tired… Just, don’t go to sleep. Okay?”

Turning your head to look up at him, you finally opened your eyes enough to take in the stress radiating from your best friend. “Nothing’s going to happen, Spike. Stop worrying.” You lifted a hand up to his cheek, trying to calm him but doing a bit of the opposite. “Oh, oh no. I’m so sorry I--” You pulled down your sweatshirt sleeve to cover your hand, trying to use it to wipe the blood you’d just left on Spike’s face.

He didn’t care about getting blood on him but he did care that the blood was coming from you. He was trying not to look down at the source of the blood. The wound had long soaked through your shirt and had made a good stain through your sweatshirt.

It was a miracle you were doing this well (if you could call it that) after all this time had passed. Spike didn’t want to push his luck. The city’s horizon gleamed ahead, Mars had never seemed so beautiful. He let his mind wander away from you for a moment. He wondered what he’d explain to the doctor. He’d have to come up with a good story for the police, too. With all the wealth in the city, more of them were jumping for a chance to find crime and then be paid off to ignore it.

“We’re almost there.” Spike spoke at you but never looked down, too busy trying to find someone who could save you. If it could be done. You didn’t respond, already passed out again. Spike didn’t really have the flexibility to steer and wake you up at the same time. His head began to throb, stress taking over. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to what you must feel.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)!?” You stirred a bit, swatting him weakly.

“I’m sleeping…”

Spike's voice got softer, content that you were okay. Well, okay enough to respond. “Now’s not the time to go to sleep. We’re almost there, okay?”

“But I'm tired now.” You were acting like a child, half cute and half from delirium.

“I know, I know. You can sleep on the Bebop later. For now you have to stay awake. I don’t know how bad this thing is.” His eyes only flickered to your wound, unable to look longer. You sighed, done with him being melodramatic.

Spike didn’t think he was being dramatic. You just had to save that kid. You had to risk your life and play the hero. You had to go and get shot near all of your major organs.

“I’m fine. With the amount of times… Jet has had to wrap up your whole body… I’m surprised this… tiny thing… worries you.” Your speech had slowed significantly. It took considerably more effort to get even one word out now, much less an entire sentence. Even you, in your dubious state, couldn’t argue that there wasn’t something wrong.

Spike opened his mouth to retort but retracted quickly. Once again, there was no point in arguing now, he’d do it later when you were not dying in his arms. He was a lot stronger than you were and had been in this rough business a lot longer. He was highly trained and had much more restraint. Jet wasn’t a real doctor either, everytime Spike was completely bandaged the wrap job was probably a bit exaggerated. And even then he was stuck on couch rest for weeks. He, in all of his years of practice and development, could take it. You were strong mentally, sure. You were the most strong and stable thing in Spike’s life. But this wasn’t exactly a willpower sort of thing.

“I can’t wait for you to get better so I can yell at you for how reckless you were.” He tried to lighten the mood rather unsuccessfully. You laughed softly, ending in a rough cough. You raised your sleeved arm to cover your mouth but when you brought it away it was stained red.

You tried to ignore this. Hopefully Spike hadn’t seen. “You’re too nice to yell.”

“I’ll get Faye to yell at you then.” You smiled, happy for the casual conversation. It wasn’t meant to last, though, as another coughing fit began. Spike looked down again to try and calm you, but he quickly noticed how your gray sweatshirt turned dark and how the inside of your lips were tinted red.

“Shit, (Y/n). We need to hurry up. You’re coughing up blood.” You were about to reply with something snarky but you’d used up all your words. You moaned, the pain starting to come back. You couldn’t believe the shock had lasted this long.

The ship began to land outside of a pristine white building, a red cross above the front door. You were not supposed to park there, but Spike didn’t care. There was only one thing he cared about now.

You moaned again, softly whimpering into his jacket. He kissed the top of your head before quickly opening the Swordfish’s hatch. “You’re going to be okay. We’re here. You’re okay.” You didn’t know if he was convincing you or himself but his rough voice was the last thing you heard before blacking out.

#cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop imagine #cowboy bebop x reader #spike speigal #spike spiegel x reader #spike speigal imagine #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x male reader #faye valentine #radical edward #jet black #ein #imagine #x reader

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hartxstarr-art · 7 months

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in honor of me getting that dumb looking spike plushie, i drew ophelia with it

#doodles #fanart #cowboy bebop #pokemon #trainer bebop #spike spiegel #ophelia #jet black #i would imagine spike would be a bit disturbed if there was a doll of him #(but idk he seemed to like being well known in that one episode)#but anyway #ophelia carrying it around would be cute i think #this is not canon to the au btw

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glorious-imagines · 4 months

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Easy Like Sunday

on days where there was nothing to do, which tbh wasn't exactly rare, you did menial tasks and relaxed

this relaxation cycle, you were on ganymede

Jet was doing some repairs to the Bebop

you offered to help but he saw you had a bag full of hair products and declined

Faye was sunbathing on the pier

surprisingly, she let Ein rest next to her

when Ed saw your bag they asked if they could help

part of you hated that idea but another part thought it would be like having a younger sibling help

"I don't know if that's a good idea, y/n" Spike warned lightly as you passed him

he was fishing without much luck

"it's fine, if they get too chaotic, I'll send them your way"

he chuckled but you were entirely serious

"by the way this spot is known for being a fish drought" you said as you followed Ed into the the Bebop

you sat in the common room and taught Ed how to do box braids

they were very receptive and better than you at doing them and you've been doing your own hair for years

you only feel a little jealousy at this

Just something out of my writing closet....

#cowboy bebop imagines #edward wong hau pepelu tivrusky iv #glori imagine #original post #cowboy bebop headcanons #cowboy bebop #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #jet black #spike spiegel #faye valentine #cowboy bebop imagine

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sluthut6000 · 8 months

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the people on cowboy bebop would have the craziest messiest polycule drama ever. i think spike would accidentally start a war

#cowboy bebop #spike spiegel #vicious #julia #faye valentine #jet black #well. with julia cheating on vicious with spike anyway maybe it would actually solve some problems #i just think spike is like. unreliable and cant communicate for shit. and that would be VERY funny for me to watch #im imagining a soap opera #in my head spike has a thing with vicious and julia and he has a separate thing with faye and jet #and theyre all aware of each other but faye+jet and julia+vicious dont really know each other and dont really care to meet further #can you imagine spike juggling his loyalty to julia+vicious while also being a bounty hunter with faye+jet?#this is what the live action shouldve been

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yaffles-world · 2 years

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I know this was intended as an ask game, but I simply could not help myself and instead spent an hour writing something no one wanted...

❤💜 My beloved, Spike Spiegel ❤💜

💜Who kills the spiders? Or who spares them by putting them back outside?💜

If Spike had his way, he would just kill them. If the spider is small he probably wouldn't put in the effort, and neither would I. If the spider was medium, ain't no way am I going to touch it but if I annoy him about it enough he'll put it outside. If it's too big, I'll be hiding behind him as he kills it, screaming.

💜If someone tells you two that you make a cute couple, how do you both respond?💜

Spike is and always will be blushing. He's not dismissive of the idea, but he for one doesn't think he's capable of being a part of anything cute. He'll likely redirect it somehow. Eventually he starts to just mumble a "thanks..."

💜Who is more likely to take care of the household chores? Who’s more likely to cook for the other?💜

Good lord, Spike can't cook. Slowly, he learns one recipe at a time, and will just cook that recipe like once a week for months until he's confident and learns something new. It's never really his forte, but he likes to help out. He's more of a chore guy. He always does difficult gardening stuff - namely mowing and any sort of serious hot and sweaty stuff, which is cliche but he doesn't mind the heat and I very much do. Because I do most of the cooking, he does most of the house chores too. He complains a lot but he always gets them done when they're supposed to be done without any sort of nagging from me, which is nice.

💜When date night rolls around, are you going to a fancy candle-lit dinner, or are you staying home and watching the stars? Or something completely different that’s special to you guys? Who plans said date night? Is the other surprised?💜

The key has always been variety. Anything goes. Deep down, Spike's a classic gentleman, so a candle lit dinner is certainly on the table, although we aren't really a big fan of high class dining. If it's fancy, it's gonna be like the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp. Campfire in the backyard looking at the stars. Cuddling up in blankets watching an appeasing double feature of romcom followed by action movies with take out food. Going to the beach and eating fish and chips in the sand. All sorts…

I'm very organized. Spike's...not… But he's been getting better at surprising me. Lots of fun adventures.

💜Do you guys cuddle real close when you sleep? Or do you sleep on separate sides and just cuddle in the morning?💜

Depends slightly on temperature but generally cuddling when going to bed and then in the morning. Some quick kisses and hugs in the middle of the night.

💜Do you have a garden? If so, who takes care of it? Do you plant vegetables or flowers?💜

Yes! We both love the garden. We both take care of it, Spike probably takes more care of it… We like the quiet but also like being active in cultivating that nature. Spike said that he didn't want flowers but I think he secretly did because he takes just as good care of them as the vegetables and other plants. Some wildflowers, lavender and roses.

💜Who carefully picks out all the throw pillows, curtains, table settings, furniture, and general decor? Who sits around reading the newspaper while the decoration process is happening, looking up every five minutes to praise their partner?💜

I am the decorator/planner, definitely. Spike jokes that he'd rather be reading the newspaper… He might - but I drag him around all the shops by his tie. I don't think he minds… If he was busy doing something, it's very likely I'd try and put it together, and then have a complete, frustrated, breakdown… when he gets back he gives cuddles and essentially drags me away from the task...

💜Do you have any pets? If so, who named them? Who’s more protective/clingy of them?💜

Yes - we have 2 cats. A black cat named Sunny, an orange cat named Basil. I'm more clingy of them for sure, but he is more protective. He would never say it though.

💜Who steals the other’s clothes, and does it annoy them?💜

I steal his clothes. All the damn time. Not just for gender affirming but since he's taller as well, it all fits quite well. 80% of the time, I'm wearing at least one item of his clothing. It's so soft and smells like him. He comments on it but he's never genuinely annoyed or anything. It's more like "wow, you look great today ;)." He doesn't fit into that many of mine but he steals one of my jackets so much it's basically his.

💜If you’re married, who proposed? What are your rings like, if you wear any? What was the ceremony like?💜

He proposed :)) We went and had a wonderful day at the beach and were eating a picnic dinner in the sand when he proposed under the stars. Rings are plain, matching, silver bands with the proposal date engraved. The ceremony was simple but lovely - we had close family and friends over, rented out a brick walled bar and function space and ate good food, drank good drinks, and danced to good music.

💜If you went on vacation/honeymoon, where did you go? The beach? The mountains? The road in an RV? Paris, the city of love?💜

2 weeks in the French countryside. Going on picnics and little walks, going out into the town center and marketplaces to get produce, just having a very idyllic time.

#fluff #spike my baby #spike my beloved #romantic f/o #f/o imagine #imagine your fictional other #writing #my writing #spike spiegel my baby

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stargazer-dreamer · 1 year

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cowboy caregiver

character: spike spiegel reader: gender neutral summary: spike is sick. you realize the two of you have very different methods of dealing with that

★ spike spiegel does not get sick

★ that’s what he tells you as he wraps a blanket around himself and sniffles on the couch

★ he didn’t even bother getting dressed. couldn’t. not when he got up to do his morning workout and couldn’t make it past the bedroom door, already out of breath and muscles weak from the strain

★ he made it to the common room, but only just barely

★ despite his protests, you made him lemon tea. he preferred coffee, you knew, but this would work wonders for his throat

★ he sipped at it with a pout

★ the fridge needed restocking, so breakfast was instant ramen. you chose a kimchi flavored one to help with his sinuses—never mind the fact that he couldn’t handle even an ounce of heat

★ it was for his own good. he got out of bed when you told him not to

★ after his meal—after he gulped down the broth like his life depended on it and gasped for air a moment after—you sent him back to bed. whatever the future equivalent of vicks vaporub is was applied to his chest and upper lip, and he resisted the urge to immediately wipe it away

★ he was a bit of a brat, when he was sick. he whined and sought out comfort, all while stubbornly holding on to the claim that he wasn’t sick at all; a box of tissues down already and your hand forced into his hair, silently demanding you run your fingers through it

★ he reached for a box under his bed, one you’ve never seen before, but you confiscated the whole thing and forced into his hands a dose of store-bought medicine instead

★ “no,” he said. “i want my stuff. i don’t do well with drugs”

★ “this isn’t a drug,” you insisted. “spike, i’m giving you medicine”

★ he looked at you with all the sobriety someone with a fever could possibly muster. “all medicine are drugs”

★ eventually, you got him to down the dose and within minutes, he was snoring away

★ he didn’t wake up for the next twelve hours. you couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad about it

★ when you asked how he was feeling, he squinted and mumbled that he, admittedly, felt a little bit better, but not by much

★ he didn’t have much of an appetite, but after a bit of prodding, he managed to eat half a bowl of porridge

★ after that, you helped him into the shower

★ after about half an hour—about twenty minutes past his usual shower time—you came to check up on him

★ he was laying in the tub, water raining down on him, and he was positioned in such a way that you couldn’t quite tell if he was alive or not. the mumbled protest he gave after you shut off the faucet clued you in to the fact that he was trying to cool off

★ despite that, getting him back to bed was easy enough, the promise of a back rub sent him straight to his room, on his stomach, back presented to you

★ in the middle of it, he fell sleep but woke up immediately after you got up to leave

★ he didn’t want you to go. he agreed to another (lower) dose of medicine only if you read to him the book he had been slowly working through

★ he was asleep within seconds, but you couldn’t help but stay by his side for a little while longer. a kiss to his temple had him stirring, but he remained asleep

★ you smiled at him fondly. taking care of him was a full time job

#spike spiegel #spike spiegel imagine #spike spiegel imagines #spike headcanons #spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel x y/n #spike spiegel x you #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop imagines #cowboy bebop imagine #cowboy bebop headcanons #hello i am sick

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that-one-fluffy-anon · 1 year

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simp list update simp list update siMP LIST UPDATE-

ahem

so like.

spike from cowboy bebop pretty hot tho-

#IM SERIOUS HJKL:JSFD #SPIKE SPIEGEL #LITERALLY #BEFORE YOU COME AT ME #POINT A) HE'S TALL AS SHIT #POINT B) HE"S GOT FUCKING L O W VOICE #POINT C) SUIT #POINT D) IDK MAN I JUST WANNA SMOOCH HIM #ahem.#i just.#imagine him like #trying to kill u for a bounty #but also flirting with u throughout the whole fight #im just sayin #jusssst saying #patented fluff ramble

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duckymcdoorknob · 2 years

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𝕆𝕜𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖...

Being absolutely passed out asleep in the wee small hours of the morning. Resting in shear darkness, minus the faint shimmer of the nightlight Ed insisted on putting in your bedroom. Nothing but the sweet sounds of empty space, and new adventures for the day to come, filling your ears.

A gentle tapping at your door interrupting this peaceful silence.

Stirring awake only to hear it again. “Come on in, Spike.” mumbling as you already know who it is.

Aforementioned male entering your bedroom with his metaphorical tail between his legs. His hair being both poofy and stuck to his forehead, but nonetheless disheveled. Him looking exhausted, but bleary eyed and fearful.

“Bad dream?” Asking as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

Spike shuddering out a breath as he nods. “Real bad.”

Sighing in sympathy as you open up your covers, patting the empty space on the other side of the bed. “Come on in, water’s fine.” a yawn finishing your illy-timed joke.

The bounty hunter letting out a puff of air through his nose, showing his amusement. Him hesitantly settling down into your bed and pulling the covers back up.

“G’Night, Spike.” whispering as you turn away from him.

“N-Night.” him replying shakily.

Spike trying to lay back and fall asleep, ultimately failing due to his fear of entering his dream once more. Him sighing dejectedly as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You can’t stand to fall back asleep can you?” turning to face him, finally taking in his horrified face. “Hey.”

Holding the side of his face and looking dead in his fearful eyes, “You’re safe here, Spike.”

Moving your own hand down to take his own, and resting his head on your chest, watching relief wash over him almost instantly.

“I’ve got you, space cowboy.”

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

#constellations #cowboy bebop #bebop #cowboy bebop imagines #cowboy bebop x reader #spike x reader #spike spiegel #spike speigal #spike spiegel imagines #spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel comfort #cowboy bebop comfort #anime #anime comfort #anime imagine

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shamblingrevenant · 1 year

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Mildly insane about Miu from Copenhagen Cowboy tbh

#i mean this in the most affectionate way imaginable #*spike spiegel voice* i love the kind of woman who could kick my ass #she could kill me and i'd thank her #copenhagen cowboy #miu #the captain's log

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manias-wordcount · 9 months

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ok so

Spike treated y/n bad because he didnt know how to confess to them and they were so nice to him and the group but when the reader gets badly injured(like near death but no) by protecting Spike he confess his feelings to them, but like telling them to stay amybe crying,calling himself stupid for not telling them sooner

the reader survives and they get togheter in the end and maybe a kiss? (edited)

tahnks in advance

Deserving (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗟𝗢𝗟 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗯 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @dogsandrocketsocks @pittbull-enthusiast @asuperconfusedgirl @rendartgrimson

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

When he pushes open the door to your bedroom on the Bebop, he knows deep down he shouldn’t be here. That he doesn’t deserve to be here. But that doesn’t stop him from giving into his bottomless feelings of guilt and regret. That won’t stop him from trying to right a wrong he should have corrected a long, long, long time ago. Before it got this bad. Before it even started.

Before you got hurt.

He sighs. For a while, it’s the only sound in the room. But he can’t help it. You look so pretty when you’re asleep. You’re pretty all the time too.

But he knows you’d be even prettier if you were up on your feet- doing all the things you’ve proved to him that you could do. Countless times. Over and over again. Spike lets out another sigh. You’re so pretty when you’re asleep. But he hates seeing you like this.

In the darkness of your room, it’s hard for him to see clearly. Hard for him to think clearly too. But he can still make out the shape, the figure, and the details of your body as you lay in your bed, resting to your heart's content. You look peaceful like this. Hair spread across the pillow instead of being tucked out of your way. Lips barely parted as the tiniest snores pass through them so easily. Eyelids closed softly instead of being squeezed shut with some type of emotion he doesn’t want to see your face hold. Chest rising and falling with every breath. No matter how deep. No matter how shallow. No matter how many bandages peak out from beneath the covers and hide away the horrible ways some stupid fucking bounty succeeded in hurting you.

You look peaceful like this despite all that’s happened. But he’s glad about that. He’s glad you’ve been able to find your peace. You deserve it. You deserve it as much as he doesn’t deserve you. And by god, he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve an inch of your time. A fraction of your mile. None of it.

But he wants it. He wants it so bad it’s scary. He wants it so bad that it hurts him. It hurts him hard. And the things that hurt him always have their way of coming back around and finding their way onto you.

He sighs again. And then he walks forward.

Now, Spike’s always been a runner. Always have been. Always will. He ran for the syndicate. Then he ran from them. Now he runs toward freedom. But it’s hard. He finds himself doing the chasing almost as much as he does the running. When he’s looking up at the ceiling- all lazy-like and perfect with his hands behind his head and TV on low- he wants to imagine his world without a single care in the world. But he can’t. He can’t because he still finds himself running in his daydreams. Something a little better. Something a little nicer. Something he can be proud of. Something worth all that running for.

But for you? He doesn’t run. Not this time. For you, it’s a slow walk to the side of your bed. Nice and easy. Easy and slow. He owes a lot to you, but he can start by doing this much for you. He can do so much. And you’d deserve it. You’d deserve it.

His footsteps echo around the room as he makes his approach. He silences them the best he can, but he isn’t perfect. He wants you to get your rest. He wants you to recover. To feel better sooner. To sit up and tug all the bandages off like they never belonged there, to begin with. He wants a lot of things. He is a lot of things. He owes a lot of things. It’s not one bit fair to you. Not one bit at all.

But when he makes his way to the side of your bed, and he looks down, he’s reminded that life isn’t fair. Not to him. Not to you. Because if life were fair, he’d been lying in bed resting and hoping for the chance that you would come to visit him. Would you? He doesn’t know. He was never fair to you. He was never fair to himself either, but he was never fair to you.

He racks his hand through his hair after a moment of silence. And despite everything, he lets out another sigh before crouching down by your bed. He’s closer to your level now. Close enough to make out some more of the bumps and bruises that decorate your skin. Dotted here. Speckled there. Just a little something- everywhere. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. He doesn’t let it become a sigh. But it does force him to become something more. Thoughts unlocked. Memories unblocked. Something more. Something he hates. But he can’t help it.

He leans forward and kisses your skin. It’s still warm. You’re still alive. But that changes very little. Because he remembers.

He remembers every second of the day you were shot. Over a week ago and he can’t force it out of his mind. Not yet.

He remember what you wore. He remembers the sound of your voice. He remember digging in on you the first second he saw you that morning. Starting a fight he had no business stating all because you smiled at him with that kind and soft smile of yours, and you started to make his heart hurt. The type of fights he starts often. The type of fights he starts hating himself for afterward.

And He remembers the cash prize showcased on Big Shots the unarmed captured on the newest and baddest bandit in town before making a big deal about having to team with you and how that started another fight. He doesn’t let you rest. But if you keep smiling so prettily like that to everyone you meet, he’ll think you’re better off restless anyways. He remembers what little rations you had that morning before going out. And how he stole a more than hefty bite out of your meager little breakfast and made excuses to himself that he deserved to have that bite because liking you made him worthy.

Worthy of jackshit, anyhow.

But most of all, he remembers the expressions on your face. The very second you pulled out your own gun. The very second you were shot first. The very second it began to hurt. And the look on your face the very second Spike shot the man who tried to kill you in complete and utter anger.

He remembers how scared you looked. Like you thought he was going to shoot you next. Like you thought you didn’t know him. Like you thought you were going to die. He remembers every second of it.

And he remembers how it made him feel.

“Stupid,” he whispers into the silence. Gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. Balled-up fists and a tight throat. He never did a single thing to deserve you. He never did a single thing to remedy it either. All he did was love you so hard that he pushed you away. All you did was be so sweet that he kept you from getting too close. But now you’re laying here after being dragged inches away from your death while he begs pathetically for your forgiveness in your sleep. And only in your sleep. He’s not brave enough to face you. He’s not deserving to face you. Not at all. Not one bit. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

So why does he feel like the hand suddenly running through his curls should stay?

Despite the red-hot guilt of your skin against his body burning himself. Despite that the horrible way it causes his heart to squeeze and scream out in pain. In anguish. In regret. Despite the fact that he knows he owes you a world that is at least half as kind and half as beautiful, and half as perfect as you are to him.

“It’s okay Spike…”

Despite everything you know.

“...I forgive you.”

Despite everything you know and so much more.

#spike spiegel cowboy bebop #spike cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop spike #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #spike #spike x reader #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanfiction #cowboy bebop fanfic #cowboy bebop x reader #x reader #xreader #fanficiton #fanfic

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