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keigologies · 1 year ago

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sick heart, sick body, s. spiegel

syn. you both got some healing to do.

gen. romance, sick fic.

warnings. canon typical spike banter.

word count. 2.1k.

note. this was posted on ao3 forever ago and i said it was cross-posted here, but i ... clearly never actually did that... until now... oops (?)

spike has known you for most of his bounty hunting career. you came on the team a year after he himself joined jet, proving yourself to be not some wayward hitchhiker they'd have to take care of on their own dime, but a genuine asset: budgeting skills like no other (which the bebop crew really needed help with, though they would object to if questioned), ways of drawing out bounty heads into false senses of security (without causing a fire fight, something spike could really learn from, according to jet), disciplined in all the ways that matter. you're a quick learner; given the time and patience, you'd been able to pick up on his fighting style and you'd learned enough about mechanical engineering to help him and jet in repairing things on the bebop and the other spaceships on board.

all that to say: you're strong and spike has never known you to be anything else. you're smart, quickwitted, a powerhouse bounty hunter with all the skills that matter. you may be a little quiet, a little meek at points, but you're strong, almost untouchable.

so it surprises him when you come down especially hard with a severe case of the flu. it sounds so... primitive, he thinks, just some stupid earth sickness that honestly can't compete with some of the (quite frankly) awesomely-titled sicknesses that have come to be since the colonization of other planets; really, he justifies to himself, venus sickness sucks, but it is a cool name.

he cringes when he hears you cough for what might seriously be the hundreth time tonight and then mentally punches himself for taking the piss out of what you're going through right now. jet had said you'd contracted it while you guys were hanging around in tijuana and spike had been off tracking bounties; it was just coughing and congestion at first, but apparently, it eventually morphed into something way more severe. you'd quarantined yourself immediately to keep them safe, which spike has respected since he got back earlier in the day, but he shares a bedroom wall with you and damn him if you think he's going to allow you to keep suffering like this without him interfering.

your next coughing fit sends him up and out of the comforting warmth of his bed. it's not like he's angry with you or anything - sure, the coughing is getting on his nerves, but he knows you can't help it and he's not that much of a heartless asshole to be mad at you for keeping him from sleeping specifically because you're ill. really, he finds himself wanting (needing, maybe) to check on you, to make sure you have everything you need so you can rest easy and recover faster.

he realized a long time ago that he'd become jaded about the world. with everything that happened in the before the bebop era, it was clear why he'd become so disillusioned and nonchalant about things. with his past, things just didn't matter as much; he still had life to live, but he'd decided to be a little more reckless about things. he didn't want to waste time worrying about things that didn't concern him, now or ever: whatever happens, happens.

your being sick isn't really any of his business because outside of him having to listen to you cough all night for as long as you're ill, it doesn't concern him in the slightest. he means, it shouldn't concern him because it really shouldn't, but there's a part of him that's... open to the idea of being concerned for you and your wellbeing, which is strange to him because he shut himself off from ideas like that decades ago, it seems like. it's not that he's incapable of it, of caring for another person, but rather that he feels it's more of a betrayal. he'd given his heart to another and he'd never truly gotten it back.

though, in the five long strides it takes him to cross from his door to your own, he thinks that maybe he had gotten it back, years ago even, and he was too afraid to admit it to himself. so many things he'd held himself back from for years, all in the name of a woman who had disappeared into the ether without so much as a trace. she was gone; dead or alive, julia was gone and she had been for a long time. it's been time for him to douse that torch for a while now.

and when he comes to this conclusion in those five strides, he thinks that you getting sick might be a blessing in disguise, at least for him, because he's realizing now that he's been taken with you for quite some time. he's not sure when it first started, this infatuation with you, but it certainly isn't recent. he supposes it doesn't matter, however, because he's realizing it now, on his way to rescue you from an earth virus that definitely had a way lamer name than other sicknesses, which is a comment he's sure you'll laugh at and agree with him about if he brings it up.

once he finally raps his knuckles on the sliding metal door leading to your bedroom, he hears the beginning syllable of "come" before it's interrupted by a ragged cough. your voice, rough and almost whispered, struggles to say "come in," but you finally manage it and he opens the door just enough to slide in, ducking under the door frame.

"you feeling alright?" he asks, closing the door behind him. "you've been hacking up a lung all night."

you do your best to laugh, but it's a sad attempt, barely there and hoarse. a piece of him wilts at the sound, sad to hear you in such a bad condition. "better than i was yesterday."

"sure doesn't sound like it," he answers, turning towards you. he withers a little more.

you look so small in your bed, under what he can only guess to be every single available blanket on the bebop. you have dark circles under your eyes, your cheeks sunken and your skin pallid in accordance. you look like you have one foot in the grave.

"jesus," spike says, crossing the small room to your bedside and sitting on the edge. "you look awful. have you been eating?"

somehow, he's able to recognize your shrug under fifteen different blankets. "we're almost out of food. didn't wanna bother jet about it or throw the budget out of sorts."

"are you being serious right now? fuck the budget. you have to eat when you're sick like this." he genuinely frowns and presses the back of his hand to your forehead and then cheeks. "and you're burning up. did you just decide to forgo medicine in the name of the budget too?"

you shrug again.

"you're the worst."

but you can tell he's joking because if he really thought that, he wouldn't be here at all. he stands and when he turns to look at you, you've got a questioning expression on your face.

"oh, don't look at me like that. i'm not just going to come in here, berate you for being stupid about being sick, and then leave. i'm going to go see if i can track down some medicine."

"it's not gonna be any of that weird shit you keep in the first aid kit, is it?" you ask, a grimace clear on your face.

"okay, first off, that weird shit is home remedies and they work just fine. second, no, i'm not stupid. that stuff isn't going to cure what you have, so don't worry your pretty little head, alright? the newt stays in the kit another day."

the last comment makes you laugh and this time, it's not as hoarse as it was a few minutes ago, which makes him smile to himself. with you being in the state you are, it's nice to hear a few seconds of your cool, clear laugh. something about it anchors him to this moment in time, reminds him that he's not as cold and as standoffish as he's always presented himself to be in this new life of his; no, he's capable of caring for people like this, of loving someone like this. he's got something good here with you and he's always had it, he's just never let himself think that it was his to actually indulge in.

"i'll see what i can find. in the meantime, start deconstructing that 'money is more important than my pressing health needs' mindset you apparently have going on, okay? i mean, really, you were worried about the budget? you know jet would agree with me here, as much as he complains about not having money. plus, shit that you can't account for happens."

"okay, okay, i get it." you accompany your words with an eye roll, but the smile is clear on your lips, which are cracked from dehydration. "can we save the lecture for when you get back? or just save it for jet altogether since i know you'll end up snitching to him about this eventually anyway?"

spike scowls, but it's obviously playful. "don't go catching an attitude with me. i'm generously playing nurse for you right now when i could very well just let you suffer here alone."

"oh, this is you playing nurse? then you really oughta work on your bedside manner, spiegel. it's atrocious."

he shakes his head and begins backing away from you, arms crossed over his chest. "keep acting like that and maybe i'll feed you that newt after all."

"yeah, yeah, yeah. i think jet's been hiding chamomile tea somewhere in the living room. make some for me, please?"

"you're real lucky i'm in the mood to be compassionate," he jokes, finally turning to open the door. "you want honey with it?"

"if we have any."

"you got it. don't fall asleep before i get back or i'm ratting you out to jet about this tea too."

he hears your hum of affirmation as he steps into the hallway and when he closes the door behind him, he allows himself to assess the whole interaction. if this had occurred at any point before now, he would have felt entirely disgusted with himself, but at present, he realizes he doesn't really mind. you've taken care of him an innumerable amount of times since joining him and jet, serving as the defacto nurse on the bebop, and this could easily be just him returning the favor, but it feels like so much more than that.

because it is. if it was anyone else, if was any other time, he wouldn't be feeling this way: soft and warm on the inside like heat without his trusty cigarette. when he'd left the syndicate and faked his death, he'd sworn off love and adoration and affection. they had been his downfall once, they would not ruin him a second time. sure, he'd come to trust jet more than he'd trusted anyone before, but he kept even him at arm's length, afraid of what might happen if he let him come too close to orbit.

and while it worked for the most part, spike has been learning (for what he assumes is quite a long time) that cutting those kinds of human connections of out of one's life isn't the way to go about healing, especially when the person one wants to love has proven time and time again that they're worthy of being trusted. there is no life without love because life without love and companionship is a sickness of the heart and he's let it fester for far too long.

so when he comes back to your room with a hot mug of chamomile tea with honey, a few pieces of hard tack he scrounged up, and some generic medicine, and he finds you asleep? he doesn't find himself all too annoyed with you like he threatened he'd be. no, instead, he feels a little bad when he has to wake you up to drink and eat and take the medicine he had to go digging through too many drawers for. and when you apologize for keeping him up with your coughing, he tells you you're the worst next door neighbor for it (a joke), but he's glad he can help you (not a joke).

and when you ask him if he'll stay for a while (just to make sure i'm not going to die in my sleep, you reason), he agrees and lays under your fifteen blankets with you until your breathing evens out and you're fast asleep, and even then, he stays just a little bit longer than he needs to, relishing in the feeling of sharing a bed with another person again.

he figures you've both got some healing to do, so you won't mind if he falls asleep with you.

#spike spiegel x reader #spike x reader #cowboy bebop x reader #.fic #.fluff #.spike

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inkpot909 · 2 years ago

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I loved your one shot with Spike! He was soo pure with his feelings 😭Do you have any HC’s for when Spike realizes got a crush and he’s fallen in love with them?

A/n: Thank you so much for the lovely message; I’m glad you liked the one-shot! Spike Spiegel is one of my absolute favorite characters of all time, so I was more than happy to write this request for you. I hope you enjoy!

Warning(s): Swearing.

Falling in love overall brings out the best in Spike Spiegel.

Having a special someone in his life gives him the extra kick in the ass he often needs to keep motivated. Not long after realizing his feelings, many aspects of his life become something done ‘for you.’

He works hard as a bounty hunter, earning money in order to have the ability to support the both of you and show off his successes (you’re just about the only member on the Bebop he willingly financially assists). Taking a more active role in caring for Ein was born purely from wanting to share the weight with you.

Now, don’t be mistaken, he’s still your lazy yet loveable Spike. But there’s added pride in what he does that wouldn’t be quite the same without you in the picture.

Spike does not shy away from flirting. It comes to him naturally, meaning he’ll flirt with you a good amount even before learning the extent of his feelings. He’s confident, has his fair share of romantic experiences, and is aware he’s the type to turn heads.

What mainly separates his treatment of you and his short-term relationships/hookups, is that he’s very reactionary. Spike deeply cares about you, so he’s going to take his time in studying your body language and responses to his flirts. He’s patient enough to put in the time, and persistent enough to put in the work.

He’ll adjust his actions according to your responses, especially if you’re shy and don’t favor getting teased in front of other people. His usual approach is quite forward, regardless of location or the people around. But if that makes you nervous, he’ll start off much more discrete. Discomforts such as those matter a lot to him, as what’s important to you is important to him. And ultimately, he hopes that you’ll return his interest.

Not only that, but he’s a total showoff. From smoothly beating up a group of assholes, to lying about the amount of times he wins at card games with Jet. Even if you merely blush or smile, that’s good enough incentive for him. Jet once even felt the need to inform you it’s best to take what Spike tells you about his own skills with a grain of salt.

However, humor him and play along with the joke- he thinks it’s adorable. It boosts his ego, sure, but deep down he longs to know your opinion of him. Even if it’s tongue and cheek, it warms his heart to believe that you think so highly of him.

Before long, it’ll turn into a common conversation shared only between the two of you; especially when alone. It’s one of many inside jokes he’ll be sure to form with you.

Spike is also very protective. He wouldn’t ever describe himself as possessive, but he certainly likes keeping you within arms reach.

If you’re not a bounty hunter, he’s going to want to know where you are and how you’re doing quite often. Partially, he loves being your knight in shining armor, but it goes a bit deeper than that. The thought of not being able to keep you safe from his past or present… it eats away at his brain.

But if you're a bounty hunter as well, or generally engage in a dangerous lifestyle like him, he’ll hold back just a bit. He knows you can hold your own in tough situations (undoubtedly a huge reason as to why he fell for you in the first place). He does have his moments, though, where letting you run off towards peril is done begrudgingly. It’s hypocritical of him, but he cannot stand whenever you leave the Bebop without telling him beforehand. Spike could care less if Faye or Jet know about where you rush off to; just be sure to let him know. He’ll grow sick with worry if you’re gone for days on end, and isn’t above lecturing you on your recklessness.

Initially, it will admittedly take some time for him to realize how he feels about you. Especially if you meet after Julia’s unfortunate end, he’ll be closed off from his own emotions.

Regardless of that, he’s going to need a bit of a push. The life of a bounty hunter isn’t exactly a glamorous one, and he finds it difficult to deny his own hesitance over long-term relationships.

Luckily, the step he needs to take isn’t a large one. Just a moment of clarity; a skip of his heart beat. Full understanding of the warmth that builds within his chest every time you’re together practically comes at him with a steel chair. It was on an average afternoon, after having caught a decently-sized bounty:

With his chin held up, a cheeky whistle plays on Spike’s lips. Passers by give him a variety of strange looks, turned off by the tied-up man he’s practically dragging behind him. John Pilgrim was the name; a rowdy criminal with a shiny price tag attached to his person.

He tugs at his binds, letting out an obnoxious curse towards the bounty hunter. A mother walking by gives both him and Spike a disgusted look, covering her small child’s ears. Smiling casually, Spike gives her a nod and a pleasant “Howdy.”

Turning a corner, the Bebop is sitting just yards away. Ein’s excited barks quickly reach his ears; running circles around the ship's landing site. Ed is dancing around the chipper dog, cartwheeling and mimicking Ein’s yips. Jet is tinkering with Faye’s personal ship, a large frown on his face. You’re standing beside him, holding a bright red toolbox and observing his work in silent awe.

Glancing at Ein, Jet raises a brow. Searching for the source of the dog’s glee, Jet is the first to notice Spike’s return. “Oi, Spike!” Jet calls out, immediately removing himself from Faye’s trashed ship. Ed stops cartwheeling, and your head perks up.

“Spike!” you squeak. Your hands both clasp over your heart, dropping the toolbox on top of Jet’s foot.

“Yowch! Fuck!” the older man shouts, inhaling a sharp breath. His knee bends upward, hopping on one foot as he mumbles more curses and profanities underneath his breath. Ed erupts in laughter, pointing at Jet. As always, any mocking tone in Ed’s voice is totally unintentional. “Jet Black! Jet Black! Give him some slack!”

Spike stops walking towards the Bebop, sighing. Home sweet home.

“Spike!” you call again. His eyes search for you, having lost track of you on top of the Bebop. He’s taken aback upon spotting you running towards him on ground-level. “You’re okay!” you pant, slowing to a stop in front of him before long. You clutch your stomach, having rushed yourself off the Bebop in mere seconds.

“Whoa, whoa, of course I’m alright,” he chuckled, nodding towards his annoyed captive. “Got the job all done and everything.”

“Well-...” you pause in order to take a breath, “You��d stopped responding to us. I figure that’s also why you don’t have your racer?”

He nods, “Yeah; I’m sure Jet will be happy to repair it when he’s done cleaning up Faye’s mess.”

You giggle, covering a hand over your mouth. Tilting your head to the side, you tell him earnestly, “I’m really so glad you’re safe… I was damn near ready to head out and look for you myself. Next time, tell us you’re abandoning your vehicle. Don’t get me so concerned! I worry about you, you know.”

Spike’s eyebrows rise in unison, and both his hands release any tension. Now… that’s real interesting. ‘I worry about you…’ your words echo in his mind. Briefly, he recalls past missions. You always are the first to greet him whenever he returns. A bright smile is spread on your lips regardless of whether or not the bounty was caught. Even if the others are annoyed, it never halts your expressed happiness. You’ve even engulfed him in tight hugs before, so thankful that in your joy, you’ve damn near thrown yourself at him.

‘I worry about you…’

Heat rushes to Spike’s cheeks. In slow motion, he watches you race back towards the Bebop. You’re going off about how you’re going to “tell Faye you’re back safe and sound!” but the majority of what you say flies over his head. Your arms spread wide and chin tilts upwards. Inspecting your body language, Spike swallows a gulp of spit.

Why hadn’t you hugged him this time if you were so concerned? He wouldn’t oppose it. No, he wouldn’t. In fact, his heart pounds desperately against his ribcage just imagining you taking the opportunity. Your arms wrapped around him, head buried in the crook of his neck, and the both of you sharing each others’ warmth. Even if it lasts for a moment…

Turning back to him, your smile falls. “Spike!” you exclaim, frantically tripping over your own feet as you stumble into another run.

Chuckling, Spike closes his eyes. In dramatic fashion, he opens his arms for you to rush into. He ignores his flushing cheeks, and pushing through the possibility of Jet or Ed watching him act like some romantic gush. Instead, he braces himself for impact.

Running footsteps blitz right past him, leaving his arms empty, and a tiny gust of wind fanning his face. “Huh?” Spike blurts, turning.

You’re running after John Pilgrim, wiggling away as discreetly as he can muster. He’s still bound up, but while Spike got lost in his thoughts, he’d slipped from the bounty hunter’s grasp with ease. You barely manage to keep up but with a single lunge forward, you tackle the man to the ground. He struggles against your grip, but you keep him pinned down, a feat made easier due to his restraints. “Spike!” you yell, “Why the hell did you let him go!?”

“Shit!” Spike exclaims, jerking his body forward and chasing after you.

After that day, Spike Spiegel no longer can define his feelings for you as anything other than affectionate and loving. It’s so clear to him at that point he’s nearly ashamed to have not understood before.

But being in such a state of mind allows hope to flood his heart, so he doesn’t get hung up on the fact. Instead, he immediately starts making up for lost time.

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sl33paholics · 1 year ago

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── sl33paholics ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

── "The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff." - Carl Sagan

ㅤ☆̶̲ Call me Vic or Vega. I enjoy writing in my spare time. I'm a black writer (bisexual too), and hopefully, in the future, I can get into the habit of making character x black!reader content for my fellow POC people since it's rare you come across those. Also, this blog looks better if you have Goth Rave :P

ㅤ☆̶̲ This is a 16+ blog. Some writings contain explicit content. Dni if you're not comfortable with anything shown ✌🏾

ㅤ☆̶̲ Every banner made that'll be shown on this blog is made by the wonderful @cafekitsune 🫶🏾 go check her blog out

ㅤ☆̶̲ Requests are always open. I rarely get any (💔), so I'd appreciate it if...yk... shoot me a message 🐗

「 ✬ 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 ✬ 」

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹒Cowboy Bebop

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹒Super Crooks

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹒JJBA (part 1-5)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹒Great Pretender

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹒GANGSTA

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹒Baki / Baki Hanma

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹒etc

「 ✬ 𝐘𝐞𝐬 ✬ 」

ㅤ☆̶̲ I'll gladly write fluff, angst, yandere content, smut, kinks (to a certain degree), AU, headcannons, and some I'm too lazy to type here

「 ✬ 𝐍𝐨 ✬ 」

ㅤ☆̶̲ I'll definitely NOT be writing anything that'll involve piss, scat, or SHIT (💀) pedophilia, incest, non-con, r^pe, certain taboo tropes (like teacher x student like c'monnn), crossovers (unless I say so), etc

──── Masterlists ﹒ One-shots ﹒ Drabbles ﹒ Headcanons ﹒ Mini-series ﹒ Series

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femmmie · 3 months ago

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Fandom: Linkin Park, Bo Burnham Rated: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mike Shinoda/Bo Burnham

excerpt: “Two artists sat opposite each other, staring past one another. They were both lost in the intricate melancholy of the melodious bebop played by the three-membered band on the podium. They sat there, sipping their hard liquor and smoking their cigars in silence. Both didn't know the other, they were sat at the same table out of necessity.”

#angst #cowboy bebop au #fluff #there was only one table #oh my god they were table mates!#I guess this counts as #flufftober

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glcdss · 2 years ago

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hehehe :)) new fic :))

#fanfic #fanfiction #anime #naruto #obito uchiha #fluff overload #naruto angst #cowboy bebop #spike spiegel

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gluion · 6 months ago

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safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ leehan

leehan x reader, slight sungho x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with leehan.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, gender-neutral reader, reader is shorter than leehan and sungho, lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, sungho is your ex, myungjae and taesan appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ i really love this piece with everything in me so i thought i'd release it to bonedoblr as well!! you can check out the jacob & taerae versions as well. if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans—taking them away from the lives they’ve lived—everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of sungho’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember sungho’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, sungho was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and sungho found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of sungho was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with sungho. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant sungho would be with you.

still, time continues to move. sungho knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and sungho met jaehyun, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, sungho was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others; save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge for supplies if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to jaehyun, you and sungho got to learn about how to find them in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. sungho decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. jaehyun became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend to his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and jaehyun reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing sungho fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, sungho glanced at jaehyun, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but jaehyun kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting sungho come back to you.

the wails that left you were enough to attract the infected. if only they were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to sungho, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, jaehyun dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of sungho, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, jaehyun saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to jaehyun but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named leehan.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that sungho left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, sungho’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost��not to the infected but to the raiders.

“myungjae, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since sungho’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “leehan! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, jaehyun caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way sungho did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of leehan’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

leehan still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and leehan got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night comes, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to leehan who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—jaehyun, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the wood that continued to burn. “we met jaehyun a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, leehan never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented jaehyun after what happened.” you moved your gaze to leehan whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending sungho’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows together—for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw jaehyun,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told leehan that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you kept an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of jaehyun; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of sungho you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, leehan listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and leehan found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than sungho, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, leehan promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and leehan who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my sungho.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of leehan’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he talked about you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where sungho and jaehyun now stay. your mouth turned dry as leehan’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber.

the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing sungho’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of sungho being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save sungho that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress. the voice was caught in your throat.

how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of jaehyun that once caressed your face. the lips of sungho that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were leehan’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

leehan took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps.

when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. leehan still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; leehan goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two. stolen glances. quiet giggles. linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and leehan decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted leehan’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

leehan’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home. indulge in my hobbies. live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm. the movement of his chest against your back. the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since sungho’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival.

you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named taesan, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and leehan grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of sungho still lives?

but one glance at leehan was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” taesan asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met leehan’s for a split second—confusion. dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. leehan was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and taesan to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with leehan.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it can’t compare to how leehan shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward as you refused to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left leehan, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. taesan stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were leehan’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told taesan before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and leehan found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached leehan’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how leehan’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with leehan by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and sungho. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw leehan crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside sungho with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside leehan. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at leehan and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost sungho, and 11 months since jaehyun told you his last words.

but it was also 13 months spent with leehan, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and sungho; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in leehan’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and leehan stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how leehan came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “leehan, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw leehan holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “leehan!” he looked back at you and you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing leehan’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up, making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how leehan’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“leehan!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as leehan was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and leehan fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but leehan came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how leehan holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth. tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

tag list: @onedoornet @kflixnet @loserlvrss @lionhanie @nicholasluvbot

@blumisiu @0310s @icyminghao @shegotthewoobies

#works of moni #onedoornet #kflixnet #k-labels #leehan #boynextdoor #kim donghyun #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor angst #boynextdoor x reader #leehan x reader #leehan angst #leehan fluff #leehan boynextdoor #park sungho #park sungho imagines #park sungho angst #park sungho fluff

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loveandpeaceanddoughnuts · 4 months ago

Text

~ key: ☁️fluff / 🔥smut / ☕️domestic / 🥀angst

~ requests/asks: open and welcomed!

~ current hyperfixations: JJK, AOT, Trigun, Fields of Mistria, A Date with Death, Disco Elysium

~ Challenges: Drabble Challenge 2024

Jujutsu Kaisen

[short form!]

Oblivious!Nanami ☁️🔥 Newlywed!Nanami ☁️🔥☕️ Dad!Nanami ☁️☕️ Husband!Nanami on his birthday ☁️🔥☕️ Husband!Nanami on a date ☁️☕️ Husband!Nanami finds you reading in bed ☁️☕️ panic attack comfort Nanami ☁️ pre-Shibuya!Nanami 🥀 vampire!Nanami 🥀🔥 Sleepy!Higuruma ☁️☕️ Warming!Higuruma 🔥 sub!Higuruma 🔥 sub!Shiu Kong 🔥 ex!Gojo 🥀 Ghost!Satosugu Drabble 🥀 JJK men on a road trip ☁️🔥 JJK men and your thighs 🔥 JJK men panic attack comfort ☁️

[long form!]

Nanami Kento Kento's Stress Toy 🔥 Hands-On [+Ino Takuma]🔥 I'm just a kid (and life is a nightmare) [teen Papamin] ☁️☕️ Under the Circumstances [sex pollen] 🔥 Bakery Girl and Salaryman ☁️ Sex on the Beach 🔥 Toji Fushiguro Make You Better [ex] ☁️🥀 → (Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) Over-Under [sparring instructor] 🔥 Hiromi Higuruma Law Student x Librarian!Reader 🔥 Suguru Geto Office Hours [college au] ☁️🔥 Mirror, Mirror 🔥 Shiu Kong Princess Treatment 🔥☕️ Levels of Lust 🔥

Trigun

Like Real People Do [Vashwood] ☁️🥀 Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy('s Gun) [Vash] 🔥 Last Rites [Vashwood] 🥀 Birthday!Vashwood ☁️

Attack on Titan

inter spem et metum [ancient Roman Eruri] Unclean [Levi hurt/comfort] 🥀 EruriWeek2024 [Authority Kink prompt] 🔥 Loser!Reiner ☁️ → (1) (2) Postwar!Levi 🥀☁️ Don't cry over spilled tea [Levi] 🔥 Mean!Levi 🔥 Clean Sheets [Levi] 🔥 Unclean [Levi hurt/comfort] 🥀 Levi x Scout!Reader 🥀☁️ Ghost!Eruri Drabble 🥀 Postwar!Levi Drabble 🥀 For my insomniac [Erwin] 🥀 → (Ch. 1-2) (Ch. 3)

Fields of Mistria

Under the Stars [Eiland] ☁️ Birthday Boy [Eiland] 🔥

Cowboy Bebop

Messages from the Stars [Spike Spiegel] ☁️🔥

A Date with Death

mortal!Casper x MC ☁️🔥

Mob Psycho 100

All tied up with no place to go [Reigen Arataka] 🔥

#masterlist #loveandpeaceanddoughnuts #jjk fanfic #aot fanfiction #jjk x reader #trigun fanfic #vashwood #aot x reader

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tonberry-yoda · 5 months ago

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Spaced Out - Spike Spiegel

notes - I watched cowboy bebop and found my type in spike spiegel. i need him carnally, so i thought i'd start with something fluffy for now before it gets angsty. plus ive been cleaning all day and needed to take a little break. I think I for sure want to do a part II, so let me know if you wanna be tagged in it <3 word count - 1165 genre - fluff

“She’s not waking up.” you heard a deep voice say as you slightly came to consciousness.

“I’m not blind, Jet. Think she died?” you heard another voice pitch in. It sounded playful, but deep; just not as deep as the first man’s voice – Jet.

“Nah, I don’t think it’s that bad… hm…”

You felt your eyes try to open, but it wasn’t working. You wanted to stretch, do anything that would signal that you could hear what was happening around you, but nothing was working.

“How’d she even end up here?” the second voice asked.

“You know that bounty I was trying to catch?”

“It’s her?!”

“No, no, she was just nearby when I was trying to catch the guy… She got wrapped up in all of it and the asshole knocked her out.”

“No shit.” the second voice chuckled and you heard the sound of a lighter and smelled cigarette smoke.

Somehow, that got you to feel a little more alive and you were able to slightly open your eyes. A groan came out of you as your eyelashes fluttered open.

“She’s waking up!” Jet said. When you opened your eyes, you saw the man, who had a metal arm and a very concerned expression on his rugged face.

“Well, would you look at that?” the other man puffed at his cigarette and chuckled.

“Spike, come on, be nice. She could really be hurt.”

When you were able to get your eyes to open with ease, you turned to look at the other man – Spike – and you felt like this was all suddenly a dream.

“Where am I?” you managed to say. The slur in your voice was embarrassing.

“Don’t worry,” Jet said. “We’re not here to hurt you–”

“Or kidnap you.” Spike spoke up.

“Shut up, Spike.” Jet turned to you and grabbed both of your hands softly. “Do you know your name?”

You nodded. “y/n. It’s y/n.”

“y/n,” Jet said softly. “I’m Jet.”

“Nice to meet you.” you tried. Your voice sounded tired and it felt like you were still drifting in and out of sleep.

“Do you live nearby?” Jet asked.

You looked around the area you were in, but it looked to be the inside of a ship. A little messy, but comfortable.

“How would I know if I’m on a ship?” you chuckled.

Jet’s face turned bright red. “We-We’re not kidnapping you, I am so sorry, uh…” He looked frantically around him and Spike chuckled, putting out his cigarette on a metal table next to him.

“y/n, can you walk?” Spike asked.

You looked down at your hands and they looked as though they were spinning. You were incredibly dizzy, so there was probably no chance.

“I don’t think so.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I carried you, would you?” Spike leaned in strikingly close to your face and you had to move back a bit.

“Uh…”

“Spike, don’t scare the poor thing!” Jet pushed Spike back and apologized on his behalf.

“I wouldn’t mind… I don’t think. I don’t really know if my brain is working properly, to be honest.” you laughed.

“See, Jet, the little lady doesn’t mind.”

“Spike, don't.”

Spike walked over and wrapped his long arm underneath your knees. He whispered a light apology under his breath and picked you up with ease. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and looked away from him with a red face. You couldn’t tell if it was from being unconscious and still being barely a human or the truth, but Spike was really good looking. “You ready, my dear?” he asked.

You nodded and looked over at Jet, who looked upset.

“Oh, quit pouting, Jet. I won’t be out long. And who knows, maybe I’ll catch the man you couldn’t.”

Jet huffed while Spike left with you in his arms. When the two of you stepped out of the ship, it was night and the sky was full of bright stars. The last thing you remember was going shopping around midday, so how long were you out?

“Know where you are?” Spike asked.

You looked at your surroundings, even if a little dizzy. Immediately, you recognized the port where Spike and Jet parked their ship.

“I live in town.” you told him. “Not too far from here.” You lazily pointed to the town just outside the port and Spike began walking that way. He took it easy as to not make you dizzier than you already were and you appreciated that.

“So you’re a bounty hunter?” you asked. Your voice sounded less slurred, so that was good.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. What about you, love?”

You could feel yourself blush and were thankful for the night sky. “I used to be a bounty hunter.”

“Shit, really?”

You nodded. “I don’t do it much anymore. Wanted to settle down. Now I sell info.”

“You make good money that way?”

“Great money. Lots of people looking for info around here, so it makes my job easy.”

“Sounds nice. Settling down.”

“It’s all right.” you admitted. You felt yourself dissociating and getting much too tired, but you continued. “Sometimes I miss running around and trying to live in the stars.”

Spike hummed, but left it at that. It was as if he noticed you weren’t quite there.

“Sorry.” you mumbled.

“For what?”

“Getting you involved.”

“I should be saying that, silly. You must be real tired.”

You smiled and closed your eyes. “Something like that.”

“Well, hey, no falling asleep yet. Which one’s your place?”

“Two more rights. Then a left. The one with the blue door. There should be a key under the mat.”

“All right, sweetheart. We’re almost there.” Spike picked up the pace until you two made it. He squatted down and fished for the key, which he luckily found. When he opened the door, you were hit with the smell of your own home.

You felt Spike’s arms leave your body and instead felt the plush couch beneath you.

“Do you live with anyone else?” Spike whispered.

You shook your head. “Just me.” your eyes were still closed, so all you could feel was Spike’s warm, cigarette-scented breath on your cheek.

“You gonna be okay?”

“I think so.”

“You need a hospital.” Spike tucked your hair behind your ear gently.

“Do I?”

“I think so?” Spike chuckled. “I dunno, I’ve been shot a dozen times and end up fine.”

“Same.” You curled over on your side.

“Please be safe.” His voice was soft.

You turned to look at him in the dark of your living room. He looked like a beautiful silhouette.

“Why?” you asked.

“I want to see you again.”

You smiled even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

“You will.”

“Promise?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You could see in his shadow that he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I expect a date next time. You know, for saving your life.”

You laughed. “Whatever you say, space cowboy.”

~~~~~

cowboy bebop masterlist | pinned post

2024 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

#tonberry writes #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop x reader #spike #spike x reader #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #<3

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nighttime-horrors · 6 months ago

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☼︎ Small but Mighty ☼︎

⊹ฺ Requested by @klerns-birdie ! ♡

⊹ฺ Characters: Tim Wright, Brian Thomas (Marble Hornets)

⊹ฺ Contains: Nothing but fluff; One (1) use of "woman," and feminine pronouns were in mind, but can still be read as gender neutral; Short and sweet (like the Reader); Second P.O.V./No use of Y/N; SFW

⊹ฺ Note: Thank you so much for requesting, lovely! I loved thinking about this! <3

—

✧ Tim Wright

⊹ฺ To quote Cowboy Bebop, "I love the kind of woman that can kick my ass."

⊹ฺ I fully believe that Tim had no idea how easily he could be flustered until he saw you lift something that you probably shouldn't have been able to.

⊹ฺ Absolutely will not stop him from offering to help you with heavy things or to kick someone's ass for you.

⊹ฺ Can't help but look at you in absolute awe; how can you come up to his shoulder, but also be able to pick him up?

✧ Brian Thomas

⊹ฺ Also offers to help you with things, but does it teasingly. He knows you can take care of yourself and absolutely delights in you politely turning down his offer.

⊹ฺ Gets the strongest urge to kiss you whenever he sees you being all strong.

⊹ฺ Does dumb, silly things like tickle you so you push him away or hug you all tight until you break away from his arms. The smile on your face is just a bonus. <3

⊹ฺ Purposefully puts things where you won't be able to reach so he can watch you hoist yourself up onto the counter and see the muscles in your arms flex.

#★ — marble hornets #marble hornets #marble hornets fluff #marble hornets headcanons #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets x reader fluff #marble hornets x reader headcanons #tim wright #tim wright fluff #tim wright headcanons #tim wright x reader #tim wright x reader fluff #tim wright x reader headcanons #brian thomas #brian thomas fluff #brian thomas headcanons #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas x reader fluff #brian thomas x reader headcanons

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l0v3tast3 · 2 years ago

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here to help — spike spiegel

spike can't help but say yes when you ask him to help you with something so nicely.

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, cat girl!reader, dub-con if you squint, smoking, spike's eye wasn't the only thing experimented on (wink), pet names, spike is kind of a perv but in a hot way, very brief mentions of blood, dacryphilia, bit of a size kink, he's nice in a mean way, unsafe sex, fluff at the end

✎ word count: 3.8k (proofread this time wowie!)

✎ author's note: i know i haven't posted anything in a month oops sorry ヾ(´ ▽ ` ) ... anyways i'm back and still working on call of duty stuff for those who follow me for that! but i'm also gonna start writing for jujutsu kaisen and cowboy bebop now yippee!

masterlist

spike really, really hated sharing a wall with you right now.

being the latest addition to the bebop, the room next to spike's had been the only empty one left, and you were just so sweet. he had just grumbled a "fine" and went on with his day, thinking that you were agreeable enough to live next to.

you were quiet, certainly more-so than faye; he had reasoned with himself that that was why he said yes. not that your pointed cat ears atop your head and fluffy tail that flicked side to side and curled when you were happy was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

you had sheepishly explained them when it was just you and him in the living room. he had asked what the deal was with "all that", and you had twiddled your thumbs in your lap and told him about the medical tests gone very wrong. he had started scolding faye and jet whenever they made jokes after that, and kept ed away from poking at you.

now, though, you were anything but quiet.

spike could hear every moan and gasped breath you uttered through the thin wall, his bed of course pressed up against it. he could hear the sounds of you desperately fingering yourself, wet noises between your voiced frustrations. you must have been soaked.

he wasn't stupid; he had figured it out pretty quick. after the first night, when faye had knocked on your door to drag you out and you said you were sick, he knew you were lying. after the second night he realized you were in heat.

this was now the third night in a row, and he was exhausted. it was hard to get any sleep with you practically crying out in his ear, making him painfully hard throughout the whole night. at least he knew now why you would disappear for a week every month you'd been here. this time, though, the bebop just had to be out of fuel, unable to get to the nearest planet with a hotel.

spike was fed up.

he was just going to go over to your door and tell you to be quiet. right? well, he didn't want to embarrass you. but you had to know he could hear you. you had to know he could hear everything, even the whines of his name that you were poorly attempting to keep quiet.

your door stood in front of him and spike was unsure of what to do, more than he had been in a long while. should he knock? just yell and hope you hear?

he was about to just turn away when the door slid open; he hadn't even realized you'd gone quiet. he just stared in shock, mouth hanging open as he processed the fact that the only thing you were wearing was one of his shirts.

"spike," you sighed, as if just seeing him gave you some kind of relief. your eyes were glazed and wet like you were on the verge of crying.

it took him several moments to recover. "you're... being loud," he finally managed to say.

"'m sorry," you muttered, looking down. "can't help it, it just hurts."

"you need some help?"

spike was just as surprised as you seemed to be by the words that had just come out, but your breathy voice, wet thighs, and having been already thinking about this for awhile won him over.

"are- are you serious?"

"wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it." he was walking forward into your doorframe, tall enough that he almost had to slouch. it made him very aware of just how small you were compared to him. "do you want my help?"

you nodded, backing up as he slid the door shut behind him and moved closer to you. when you were at the edge of your bed and couldn't back up anymore, he came close enough to cup your face with his hands and bend down until your lips were a hair's breadth apart.

"you gotta say it, sweetheart."

your hands were on his bare chest, nails almost digging in. "yes, please, need your help, spike-"

he pushed his lips into yours and you let out the sweetest moan he'd ever heard. his hands were running through your hair, down your back and to your waist and under your (his) shirt, swallowing your noises the entire time.

breaking your kiss to pull off your shirt, he marveled at the sight of you. he was laying you down on your bed and biting and licking down your body before he knew it, until he kneeled between your legs, pushing them up to get a better view.

your hands were already in his unruly hair to try and tug him to where you needed him to be, but he didn't budge. instead he brought his hand down from under your knee, each grazing touch closer to your core making you twitch.

"shit, you're so sensitive, baby," he muttered. his fingers had barely touched your clit and you were already crying out.

"please, spike, please just do something," you whimpered when his hand went back to your thigh.

"what do you want me to do, hm?"

"something, anything, please spike!" he almost felt bad when tears started welling up in your eyes again. almost.

"anything?" he echoed with a giddy smile.

he slid two fingers inside you easily. you were practically dripping wet, a damp spot already forming underneath you. he cursed again as he felt how tight you were, watching your back arch almost immediately.

"ha-a, ah! spike!"

your voice was music to his ears, a song he wanted to play on loop forever. he'd been imagining it, your whimpers and pleas, for months now. it was about time the universe paid him back.

it took less than a minute for you to cum, your body going stiff and your voice choking. spike almost came himself when he felt your pussy contracting around his fingers.

he gave you barely any time to recover before he was licking up your juices, sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue into you. you just about screamed, but you didn't push him away, only pulled him closer, one hand leaving his hair to claw at any skin you could reach.

you were already reduced to a babbling mess and he couldn't stop muttering about just how sweet and addicting you were.

"fuuuck, sweetheart," he dragged out, finally detaching himself from your clit after you'd came twice more. "can't get enough of you."

spike stood up and you whined, sitting up and trying to get his sweatpants off before he even had a chance to himself.

he choked out a moan when you started licking and sucking at his cock as soon as his pants were down, looking like you were entering the same trance he had just been in. it took every ounce of willpower he had to drag you off of him and lift you back onto the bed.

"you can do that later, angel. i'm here to help you, right?"

you seemed to forget about going down on him pretty quickly, opting instead for trying to drag the man closer as he crawled over you. he gave in to you rather easily, meeting his lips with yours again.

admittedly, he had been giving into you a lot lately. he would give you the last snack left and let you lean against him on the couch when you were tired. he would let you come with him when he split off from the group when you touched down in a new place.

and of course, everyone noticed. they saw how soft he was with you, how his stature relaxed and he slouched just a bit closer to your level when you walked into the room. and of course, they teased him relentlessly about it.

jet had even asked him once if spike thought you went into heats.

"well, she disappears for a week every month. what if that's when- ya know-"

"faye disappears all the time. so do i. besides, it's none of our business."

spike would never admit that he got off to the thought of it. and now, here he was, basically living his dreams. he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

you whined when he started rubbing his dick over your pussy, his head bumping your clit with each grind. he found your attempts to line your hips up so he would finally fuck into you adorable; there wasn't much you could do though when he had his arms hooked under your knees and hands grabbing at your waist.

"aww, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he patronized, breaking away from kissing you. you were still grabbing at him wherever you could. "what is it? you want me to fuck you?"

"mhm, need you to, please spike- ah!"

he wasted no time pushing into you as soon as he heard your sweet voice, cursing as he slowly pressed in further and further, barely dragging his hips back before he would slide in more.

"oh, fuck, baby- so fuckin' tight, can barely fit my dick inside you- shit!"

you cried out when he finally bottomed out; it was like he was reshaping you to fit him inside. it had been so long since you had been with someone, since someone had helped you with your heat, but even then it had never felt as good as it did now.

he was about to ask if you were alright when you started begging him to move, to fuck you, to please help you. his final shred of resolve snapped before he grabbed one of your wrists as leverage to start hammering into you.

your back arched again and spike took that as an opportunity to lean down and suck on one of your nipples. he wasn't surprised when you came again already, your cunt tightening until he felt like he could barely move. your eyes rolled back and your nails dug as deep as they could into spike's back, probably drawing blood. he didn't care, though, because you looked so pretty cumming on his cock.

spike kept making you cum as much as he could until he couldn't fight off his own orgasm anymore (he was honestly impressed with himself that he'd managed to even last this long).

"where do you want me, baby? huh? where d'you want my cum?" he breathed, watching your body squirm and twitch from overstimulation.

you couldn't even answer him, feeling like he fucked your brain right out of your head. all you could think of was the pleasure overtaking your entire being, of wanting to stay like this for as long as possible.

when you didn't say anything, spike leaned down over you and left your leg on his shoulder to lightly grab your jaw.

"c'mon, angel, you gotta answer me," he panted. "you want me to cum inside you, right?"

that seemed to bring you out your haze a little bit and you nodded, ears teary and face painted a cute shade of pink. "mhm- ah- cum in- side, ah! please!" you managed.

he came with a harsh groan, bullying his dick as far into you as he could as he filled you up. you came with him one more time, your body clinging onto his, trying to keep him from pulling out.

you both stayed like that for some time, kissing slow and stealing the other's body heat. you whimpered when he pulled away and started to untangle your limbs from his, but he shushed you with another smile.

"don't worry, sweetheart. we're far from being done."

spike found out just how sensitive your extra appendages are pretty quickly, and he absolutely took advantage of it.

scratching and petting your soft ears made you melt against him, like putty in his hands. he found you're much more pliant when he does it, less whiny and more grateful.

of course, spike wasn't a complete dick, so he would take you into his room to feed both of his addictions at once. like when he was fucking you but stopped every time you were about to cum, torturing you just to see what you'd do. he had your hands tied to his headboard, keeping one hand on your stomach to pin you down and using the other to smoke a cigarette while he lazily fucked you.

"nngh, nonono- please! spike, you're bein' mean-"

he bends down over you to put out his cigarette on the bedside table, making him press deeper into you; you nearly came just from that, choking on your words.

"i'm being mean? sweetheart, i'm helping you." he cupped your face and debated internally for a second before he reached up to pet and rub your little cat ears soothingly.

your tensed limbs went slack, no longer tugging on your binds or trying to pull him closer with your legs. your wide eyes became lidded and you started nuzzling your head further into his hand.

"you asked for my help, remember? this is how i help you, baby," he cooed, and when you gave a little nod and a whimpered "mhm" he smiled. "you just gotta be a good girl and take it. can you do that?"

you nodded again. "mhm, i'll be good," you mumbled.

"good," spike said, reaching for another cigarette and leaning back up to light it. he put a hand back on your stomach and when he wasn't holding his cigarette he was petting your ears as he went back to slowly dragging his hips back and forth.

he also found out that tugging on your tail made you cum nearly instantly, and he used that until you were crying.

you were on your hands and knees on the floor with spike fucking you from behind, having to hold your hips to keep them up; he was holding your hair in a messy ponytail to make you watch it all in the floor-length mirror that was in front of you.

the curl of your tail against your back was just so cute, and having seen the effect of touching your ears, he had no hesitation in grabbing your tail lightly. your body shuddered and twitched and your back arched when you let out a loud whine.

"shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling your pussy tightening around him. "you really like that, don't you angel?"

"fu-uck, mm-mm, i don'-"

he grabbed the base of your tail and tugged, and you were clawing at the blankets underneath you as you came.

"ha, why are you lying to me, baby?" spike breathed, tossing his head back as he fucked you through your orgasm. "thought you were finally being good."

he flipped you over with a pillow under your back and tried it again while he ate you out, and he was delighted to feel your cunt pulsing around his tongue. he tried it when he was just rubbing your clit, when he only had two fingers inside of you, when he was just sucking on your tits. you came every time, and each time made you try to claw your way away from him a little more. he never let you run; even if he did, he knew you would just come right back.

"one more time, baby, just one more for me," he kept saying, until you were reaching back to grab his wrist, his arm, his chest, anything to get him to let up.

"please, ple- ah, spike!" you hiccupped. which one of you was the one in heat again? "break, i need- nnh- need a break!"

he slowed down his thrusts and took his hand away from your tail, your sob turning into one of relief.

"alright, baby, we can take a break, you just gotta give me one more," he said, leaning down over you to kiss the back of your neck. you tried to shake your head, tried to say you couldn't give him anymore; it was then that you realized you definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with him if you continued this after your heat was over.

"i know you can, doin' so good for me," he just mumbled as he fucked you slower, until he finally let himself cum, of course making sure to give your tail one last squeeze. he couldn't help himself when it forced the cutest moans out of you.

he filled you with his cum over and over again, the both of you passing out for a couple of hours just to wake up and fuck all over again.

he would wake up to you sucking his dick, you would wake up to him spooning you and giving you hickies in the spaces between the ones he'd already left while he fingered you open again.

the only other time you stopped fucking is when he forced you to take a break and shower. you clung to him like a koala bear the entire way to the bathroom, fucked again in the shower, and clung to him all the way back.

during the duration of your heat, spike found himself being a lot more caring than he had been to someone in a very long time. he made sure you drank plenty of water, took you to the bathroom, made sure you ate still, dealt with your whining every second he wasn't physically touching you. in truth, he liked how much it made him feel needed.

he only ran into jet once while he quickly raided the fridge and filled up water bottles. jet came in just as he was hugging the supplies to his shirtless chest.

"spike! where the hell have you been?"

"uh... well, turns out she does go into heat," he said with a shrug and a slightly smug grin, walking past jet.

"oh, shit... wait, how do you know-" his jaw dropped when he saw spike's chest, back and arms, scratched to hell and marked with bites from your little fangs. he told faye, edward, and ein that you two were both very sick and needed to be "quarantined", counting himself lucky their bedrooms were all on the opposite side of the ship from yours.

you both stayed in your routine of fucking, sleeping, eating, and being forced to bathe for four days before your system starts calming down (spike had found himself considering the experiments done on himself more good than bad; he was so grateful he could keep up with you).

it's when you wake up with a pained groan as he's stretching out his overused muscles that he knows you're finally sobering up. as much as he loved the sex marathon, he was starting to get sore all over.

he plops back down next to you and you roll over to lay on top of him, but for the first time in days you don't start nipping at his chest and grinding against him. you just let out a little whine and go back to sleep. he can't help the little smile that spreads across his lips, and he reaches up to gently pet your ears and hair until he falls back asleep too.

you're shook awake a few hours later, blearily cracking open your eyes to see spike setting down a tray of "beef" and vegetables next to you on the bed. he gently moves your legs to sit beside you and eat his own.

"morning, sweetheart," he says when you raise your head and mumble something along the same lines back, slowly shifting onto your back and sitting up with another groan.

spike frowns a little in worry, wondering now if he had been too rough on you. it doesn't match up to your face of horror, though, when you look up and see his shirtless body.

"oh god, spike, 'm so sorry! you didn't have to- oh god," you ramble in panic, reaching out to him then retracting your hands and hiding your face in them, curling up into a ball.

spike laughs a little bit before he reaches over and gently takes your wrists in his hands to show your face to him again. "it's alright! hey, really, it's alright. i love the kind of woman who stakes her claim," he reassured with a cheesy smile.

your face goes red and you look down, embarrassed. "you didn't have to help me. i'm sorry- 'm sorry i made you do... all that."

"i seem to recall making you do a lot of things, too. very happily, too."

"well, yeah, but-"

"trust me, i enjoyed every minute of it, princess. well, except maybe having to force you into the shower. and having to spoon-feed you."

"you did not have to spoon-feed me!" you mutter indignantly, brows furrowing adorably and your tail flicking behind you.

"yes, i did," he sys, pointing his fork at you as he went back to his tray, "when you just needed to keep my dick inside you but didn't want to stop fucking yourself on it long enough to eat. had to hold you down." he acts like he's complaining, but he has a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time.

you choke on your own spit a little before huffing; before you can turn to your own food he adds on, "eat, don't make me force feed you again." you half-pout and half-glare at him, but you shovel the food into your mouth nonetheless.

once you're beyond full, you collapse back onto the bed, fully intending to go back to sleep and let your hormones rebalance on their own. you were always sore and exhausted for a day or two after your heat, but you usually slept through it anyways.

"hey." apparently, spike has other plans. "come on, we gotta take a bath." he's hauling you back into a sitting position and pulling his t-shirt over your head, which of course swallows you whole, despite all your whines and protests. "quit complaining, all you gotta do is sit in the water."

regardless of his front of acting like he was doing you a favor, he lets you cling to him again all the way to the bathroom. he washes your hair and cleans you off, makes sure the water isn't too hot for you. generally, you hate baths, but this seemed like something you could live with.

when he's toweled you dry and put you in one of his clean shirts, you sit on the counter while he finishes pulling up his sweats.

he picks you up again and as he starts walking you both back to your room, he asks, "so when did you take my shirt, anyway?"

spike feels you tense up and your cheeks get warm where they're pressed into the crook of his neck.

"i didn't take it," you squeak, "it got- it got mixed up in the laundry..."

"riiight. sure, sweetheart."

#cowboy bebop #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel x female reader #spike spiegel x you #spike spiegel smut #cowboy bebop smut #— lilly writes! ♡

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clover555 · 1 month ago

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𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞!

•welcome to my page, I’m not new to tumblr but this is my first time deciding to post on here.😣

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I have no real meaning as to why I decided to start this page aside from the fact that they’re not many fics for me to find of people I like. So, I decided to just make my own stories (I’m impatient)

I don’t expect my page to become popular or anything but I do wanna write for mainly myself and possibly for others who find interest in what I write.

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My main hyper fixations

★Mha (mainly izuku but I wouldn’t mind writing katsuki or something, just depends on the character)

•Demon slayer (tanjiro, zenitsu, inosuke, giyuu, etc.)

•Creepypasta (Ben drowned, ticci Toby, clockwork, etc.)

• Cowboy bebop (spike spiegel)

• Toilet bound (hanako and tsukasa)

•Attack on titain (strictly armin and eren may take other but I highly doubt it)

•HxH (kurapika, leorio, killua, gon *the two of them stay sfw you weirdos*)

•bungo stray dogs (dazai possibly others idk)

• jujitsu kaisen (gojo, geto, megumi, choso)

Etc. really will depend on what I get into. These are just ones I can name off the top of my head.

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I’ll take requests from anyone about anything but just know I won’t be shipping characters with anyone aside from the reader cause I’m just not getting into all that 😬😓

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What I’ll post about

★Nsfw (smut)

•Sfw (fluff)

•Angst

•Suggestive

•Comfort

Etc.

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★ ALERT!!!

• I have absolutely no clue how often I’ll post or what I’ll write about so don’t count on anything please🤧🙏��

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Anyway I hope this post finds the right kind of people and fyi I’m currently working on a post now so it won’t be long before I upload an actual fic

♥︎ Thank you for taking the time to read this and I appreciate any and all support I receive on this page

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫☘️ 𝐨𝐮𝐭 🤫🧏🏼‍♀️

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demigoddessqueens · 1 year ago

Text

masterlist 9

Assassin’s Creed - Eivor bf headcanons // shay hurt & comfort // protective Haytham // Ezio, Connor headcanons // Altair + novice // yearning (horny) Haytham // chaotic good + Altair and Haytham // shay and his fierce s/o // dom Evie // brat + Evie // Haytham bday picnic // toy maker type // NSFW Haytham // ASMR fluff // pegging + bondage headcanons // their lover is kidnapped // Basim fluff 💕 // massages // cyberpunk AU // Haytham morning domestic fluff // Ezio + secret child // Basim smut + fluff // cirque de soleil // Basim post-Mirage // star-crossed 💕lovers 💞// cuddling Shay // sick Haytham // sibling figure to Evie //friends with your birds 🦅 // Basim angst // guilty pleasures // punch 🤜 Birch //

AC fics - bath fluff

Codexmonthly - January “climb” //

Writing prompts - Yusuf + kiss // Basim + kiss //

Call of Duty - holiday headcanons //

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss 🔥 - orange 🍊 peel + others //

Blood of Zeus ⚡️ - fluff headcanons // Altar for them //

Spiderverse - valentines 💝 with Miguel //

Marvel - sibling of Carol Danvers //

Hunger Games/TBoSAS - snow “love” language //

Critical Role

Combined parties asks - beauty and the beast!Reader // music 🎶 ask // music batch ask 2 //

music album ask

Vox Machina - cuddling in your sleep // have something of theirs // time traveler reader // Feywild antics (again) // their crush wears armor // wanna go on a date? 💞 // fighting the spirit of revenge // musical joints // 8ft and full of fluff // ranger + a dragon // Percy + reviving you // party fluff headcanons //

➡️↪️ writing prompt + keyleth //

Mighty Nein - song(s) fic + Caleb // ghostrider!reader // song fic(s) + Mollymauk/Kingsley //

Bell’s Hells/Crown Keepers - song fic + Ashton // song fic(s) + Orym //

➡️↪️ writing prompt + Ashton //

Song 🎵 🎶 fics - batch 1 (Vax) // batch 2 - Dorian // batch 3 -Essek // batch 4 - caleb & Cadeuces //

Castlevania - Dracula nsfw headcanons // Alucard, Isaac, Trevor + witch & familiar // Alucard and demigod child //

Castlevania Nocturne - fending off rude family member //

Exophlia - deer-satyr + “fun times” in the snow //

Baldur’s Gate - astarion w/ mute!Tav // Gale taking care of you // remember what they say // Rolan fluff (feat. human!tav) // Karlach + angst prompt + cuddles // Tav + animal menagerie // Astarion + predator and prey // mistletoe headcanons // late Halloween 🎃 ask // Astarion + owl curse reader // rolan + human tav kiss // tieflings + you remembered what they said // Wyll + tiefling // giving them a shy kiss //

One Piece - Mihawk holiday headcanons //

Genshin Impact - soft Neuv headcanons //

Stardew 💫 Valley - holiday headcanons //

Arcane/League of Legends - you got them a gift //

DC - sibling of Diana Prince (WW) ft trans reader //

Dragon 🐉 Age - Anders & Sebastian + writing prompt //

The Last of Us/Overwatch/Red Dead Resmeption - valentines 💘

Cowboy 🪐 Bebop 💫 - valentines 💘 headcanons //

Star 💫 Wars - coming out to them //

The Arcana ✨ - Lucio + blood kink // giving the boys head 👅 //

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inkpot909 · 2 years ago

Note

Can I get a Spike x raeder

The reader was kind with Spike and all but he didn't need a kid adult like in his team so he was always treating them like..idk "whatever" "ok." "Just leave me alone" and so on

But one day the reader gets in the way of a criminal taking the bullet for Spike and they say "thanks goodness you're ok" while bleeding out and Spike regrets it,he doesn't want them to go away,so he apologizes,saying that he needed them taht he would stop teasing them or treating them bad

They get together in the end :)

U can add as much angst as u want

A/n: Thank you thank you so much for the fun request! I feel awful for not being able to finish it for a while; getting caught up in personal matters. I appreciate the support and truly hope it was worth the wait. Have a lovely day; as well as all others reading. <3

Warning(s): Swearing; brief mentions of blood/canon-typical violence; light angst.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

It’s a dreadful thought lingering in the back of Spike Spiegel’s mind. Instead of pulling him away from them, fully in the present where he should be, a ricocheting gunshot nearly grazing across his shoulder only hammers the point home.

It seems that’s the route most bounties have gone down as of late. Realistically, he knows he shouldn’t even pretend to be surprised anymore. And usually, high-stakes entice him. But tonight was supposed to- no, it had to be different for safety’s sake. That much so was made very apparent.

What was originally meant to be a sneaky, difficult yet rewarding job, has mutated into a public gunfight taking place within a famously high-class bar. Having tracked the bounty to this location, things quickly went array upon the realization that most of the security in the building is in the palm of their hand. The bounty himself has presumably slipped away in the commotion, letting others take care of the dirty work for him.

The messiness of the situation has forced Spike and you both into a corner, desperately having to duck for cover. If it weren’t so tense- bullets flying in the air seemingly at every turn -Spike would almost laugh. It’s delightful (if not, a tad bit macabre) to see the place be wrecked to hell in a contextless vaccum. A handful of bodies are scattered across marble flooring along with broken tables and seats. By now, most innocent bystanders are either in hiding or found a way to flee the scene. Blood pouring onto the floor from bodies or light droplets from those still standing contrast heavily with a monochrome color scheme. It’s the kind of joint Spiegel usually wouldn’t ever think to step foot in; mingling with rich types isn’t exactly his cup of tea. On the flip side, maybe the owner at least has hope of being able to repair the mess themselves (a vain hope; as both him and you will most likely have to pay for property damage regardless of the owners funds).

Finding an opening to do so, Spike whirls his body around while swiftly reloading his revolver. Sticking his head up from behind the bar, he barely has enough time to understand the positions of those firing.

Just a few yards away from him on his left, you keep yourself hidden behind a table turned onto its side. Spike ducks below the bar once more, cursing underneath his breath. Blood is trickling down your right leg, clear signs of an injury. From what, exactly, eludes him for the time being.

The dark look on your face is unwavering, however. In fact, you’ve maintained a serious exterior for almost the entire night. It’s enough to put a hindrance on Spike’s breathing, albeit briefly. Such an intense presence doesn’t suit you at all.

You momentarily pull your attention from the action across the room, sensing someone’s eyes on you. Sure enough, you meet Spike’s gaze immediately. Nodding to one another, a beat comes and goes before the two of you move in tandem. Raising your guns, you both rise up quick enough to fire a shot or two.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

Crouching down, Spike stares at his feet. Despite holding his head low, his eyes give the impression that he’s looking at something far away. His lips press together in a thin line, letting out a long sigh. Jet’s going to have our heads for this, he expects.

Despite your cool front, you’d been as reckless and clumsy as ever (Spike’s words not yours). He had half a mind to blame you for the shootout, but even he has to admit he knows better than that. Although you fired the first shot, he might as well have done so himself via his own thick headedness. Just as Spike predicted would happen earlier the same day, you ended up hurt. However, he’d done just about everything his older companion told him not to, and here you are suffering the consequences along with him.

...

“Isn’t the whole point of this bounty to be discreet?” Spike muses, arms crossed. His expression is soured, and shoulders stiffened in defense. Sprawled out against the Bebop’s couch, he’s sat himself opposite of Jet. Well aware of how uncomfortably upright the yellow furniture is, his vegged out form is working to drive home a point more than anything else.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Jet replies, voice gruff and short.

The younger man scoffs, raising his arms and gesturing to his right wildly. “Then why the hell-...” Spike pauses, rubbing his temple, “Then why… do you think I need to bring along Y/n? Surely it’d be better if I-”

“Because they work swiftly and are the most likely to keep you from inflicting your usual brand of collateral damage. I’d say they’ll do well to keep you from messing this up well enough.” Jet cuts him off casually.

“What? So they’re my babysitter? You know how they are- they’ll just get in the way.”

Jet bites back, “Spike, I swear this’ll go smoothly if you just accept their help. Don’t you dare think of going off on your own. The bounty’s got connections and has reportedly been on high alert since the price on his head increased. We don’t have all the details, but there’s enough to know it could get ugly. You’ll be kicking the bucket if you don’t get your head screwed on straight.”

“We both know the chance of that happening,” Spike huffs.

“Yeah, right… less likely than you admitting to yourself the real reason you get so high-strung about Y/n.”

The fluffy-haired man raises an eyebrow.

“It’s because you like them, but saying so must not be in vogue nowadays, so you tell yourself it’s just because they’re childish- or whatever made up reason it is this week.”

“They are childish.”

“And you aren’t?” Jet questions, “I’d think refusing to follow a well-informed decision just to avoid who you’re going to be working with is pretty immature.”

Silence follows, the moment thick with thought.

Making a face, Spike abruptly kicks his leg forward and smacks his foot against the side of Jet’s cute coffee table. He doesn’t even open his eyes at the booming, metallic sound. “As if a bright green racer with a goddamn flower plastered on the side of it won’t make us stick out everywhere we go!” Spike exclaims, clearly still hung up on Jet’s previous statement or sending him an implicit warning to shut his mouth.

“I’m sorry, but how many repairs have you needed on that obnoxiously red racer of yours in the past month!?” Jet snapped, finally looking his crewmate in the eye. “Y/n and you are the best choice for this sort of job. You’re going with them; end of story. The sooner you get the bounty the sooner you can come home sulking about it.”

Not twenty minutes later, Spike found himself begrudgingly walking next to you heading towards the Bebop’s garage. You maintain a youthful spring to your step, while he practically drags his feet on the floor following you.

“Hurry up, slow poke!” you jest, stopping in front of the garage door. Turning towards him, you tap your foot repeatedly as if you’re being forced to wait for him.

“Maybe you should start practicing blending into the shadows for when we land,” he suggests, moving past you, “You know… being unnoticeable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you giggle, “You’d miss out on what you like the most about me!”

Sneering, he responds non-committedly, “Yeah… sure.”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Spiegel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You huff, a playful edge to your tone, “C’mon… at least admit I’m more fun than Faye; that can’t possibly be difficult to voice out loud.”

“I’m not admitting shit,” he suddenly snaps, “I just want to get this done; I could really use that reward- so let’s go.”

Frowning, your gaze hesitates on his person as he turns on his heel and shuffles away. He moves with hasty steps towards his precious racer for extra measure.

Your shoulders fall, but his back is turned to you. And even if it wasn't, you are certain by now that it wouldn’t make a difference. The wall he’s built between the two of you is sturdy and unmoving, but hell if you haven’t tried your hand time and time again at tearing it down.

But unknown to you, his thoughts haven’t moved his attention away.

Select bounty missions notwithstanding, nothing ever seemed to truly wipe the smile from your face. Even then, most times you can keep a playful edge to your actions and attitude. Spike Spiegel hates that. It’s hypocritical, considering his own behavior at times, but logic is (apparently) irrelevant. Nothing ever seems to get to you either, and that’s the most frustrating. Nothing he ever says or does gets to you. From the tiniest comment to the very reasons behind Jet's latest stream of lectures- he hardly has witnessed you bat an eyelid at it all.

It’s not that he necessarily dislikes you as a whole, but something angry inside him bubbles over around you. Still fresh in the bounty hunter world, your attitude just appears… too naïve. The feeling you fill him with is foreign, and why someone ‘so simple’ can get his mind racing is beyond him. Within the dim lighting the Bebop offers, barely reaching the inside of his racer, Spike has long been so sure you’d never find common footing he doesn’t even consider it an assumption anymore.

...

Amidst his thoughts, the two of you manage to shave the number of shooters down by a considerable amount.

Still eager to be done with the case (even if it means coming back empty handed at this rate), Spike takes the opportunity to fully rush away from behind the bar completely. Taking a dive, he shoots another individual just before tumbling to the floor. As he rolls himself over to find complete cover once more, he loudly lets out a curse after a loud gunshot fires in the air.

“Spike!?” you squeak, whipping around to see the man on the floor cradling his foot. Both his hands are clasped around his shoe, knuckles turning ghost white from applied pressure. Your eyes widen, dropping your adopted expression. “Are you alright!?” you shout.

“Less worry; more shooting!” he barks, wincing at a shot of pain trailing violently up his leg.

Not needing to be told twice, you focus your efforts back on the task at hand. He hears three distinct gunshots from your side of the room. Two thuds come from the far end his back is facing, a sound he recognizes as clothed bodies hitting the floor. To Spike’s relief, deafening sounds of guns firing comes to a complete halt.

You drop to the floor as well, buttocks making harsh contact with marble. Turning just your head this time, you meet Spike’s gaze once more. Not a second passes before the two of you share an exhausted laugh. Your tone is light and thankful, his is booming and pushing through fierceness beginning to fade.

“As best as we can… we’re keeping this from getting back to Jet or Faye,” Spike mumbles, leaning his head back after calming himself down.

Smiling warmly, you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and move your attention. Your eyes scan the back of the bar, squinting slightly. The walls are littered with bullet holes, and you’ve no doubt the amount of which are near impossible for one person to count alone. A shady figure lingers in a bathrooms door frame, and at least two tables in the back are snapped in half-

Wait…

Realistically, the figure in the distance moves fast. To you, the gut reaction is so quick hindsight allows you to fool yourself into believing you had even a moment to think about your actions. To understand what exactly it was you’re doing. To process all that transpires within the next couple of seconds.

But that isn’t really the case. You merely registered the shadowed individual’s frame, and the reflective light bouncing off the pistol in their hand. It was all you needed to act, diving to the side so quickly that ‘desperate’ wouldn’t be enough to describe the action.

A shout erupts from behind you, frantic and unfathomably angry. More sounds of gunshots fill the air; curse words and other profanities fill any available space. You can distinctly make out Spike’s voice, and one more that’s unknown to you. It’s very deep and masculine, though, from what you can understand.

You attempt to roll your body over, but a sharp pain just below your collarbone and near your shoulder keeps you from doing so. Vision blurs at random, and you can scarcely make out your companion (roommate?) standing in front of you. When exactly did he get there?

Your eyes flutter open and shut.

You feel someone kneeing you in the side, and your eyes snap open to observe Spike bending down beside you. Slowly but surely, your vision stabilizes. When did he…? Is the mysterious shooter still around? You attempt to move again, but this time the pain you feel is so prominent you cry out and screw your eyelids shut.

“Oi oi oi…” you hear Spike’s voice call. “Don’t strain yourself, dummy,” he tells you, having absolutely no bite behind his words. At least, none you could make out. Still, you're inclined to wonder if it’s still just your own shock over getting shot making you misunderstand.

“Bounty got away…” he huffed, gently sitting you up against a fallen table. Giving you an apologetic look, he rips the side of your top open. You put up no fight, watching him wrap your bullet wound with whatever makeshift materials he’s found lying around.

“Was that who was standing in the back?” you ask, voice kept low.

“Yeah,” he replies, “ I thought the coward hightailed it and ran… but I guess he wanted the last laugh. Erm- tried to at least. He ended up running anyway.”

“Him and this ‘team’ if his will probably persue us, then,” you sigh, “Now we have to hunt him down before he gets us…” Pausing, you take a minute to mull over your words. “I’m really sorry. This is all my-“

“Don’t,” he cuts you off calmly, gesturing to your injuries. “Not when you’re like this.”

Smiling despite yourself, he stops his movements at the display. Ignoring the shock on his face, you ask, “What? You worried about me?”

Spike hesitates, physically moving his chest away from you. “Don’t be absurd,” he scoffs, speaking unconvincingly. He continues, wrapping around the wound once more before stopping himself yet again. His frown deepens, adding, “And stop smiling like that.”

“Why?”

“Because you were just shot!” he snaps, “And nearly slipped out of consciousness!”

“Ah…” heat rushes to your face, “So you were worried…”

“I-… yes, fine, okay?” his head falls, giving in.

You snort, “That sounded painful.”

“Tonight’s been stressful; you haven't been acting like yourself all night. Even on a job… it’s not like you to get so serious. What was with you?”

You shrug sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “Thought you’d like it better that way.”

“It freaked me out, why would-“

Spike halted his words. He knew exactly why, but the night has been a long string of his own mistakes so it’s been tough keeping up. And here’s the biggest one yet, coming straight towards him holding a steel chair: How he treats you. More specifically, how he spoke to you earlier. How indifferent, borderline annoyed, he always acts. It’s true, he’s long been trying to figure out how to press your buttons. But all at once it’s clear that it does get to you. Now that it’s showing, even just a small bit, his wall between you two starts to crumble.

“Couldn’t let anything happen to you either…” you mumble when he doesn’t continue, “Jet was telling me how easily the job could be slipped up. I was a bit intimidated… and when you spoke to me earlier I guess I just accepted that it would be a little out of my league. This was my first real ‘big gig’ after all… and I couldn’t accept the idea of disappointing you.”

Nodding, he finished up the last of tending to the wound for the time being. Regardless, his hand lingers on your shoulder supportively. “I’m… sorry I’ve been hard on you. This lifestyle’s really roughened me out; guess I should be glad it hasn’t gotten to you yet,” he mutters, adding a quick, “You did good.”

The moment it slips from his mouth, he is taken aback. He means that too, but that’s the part that surprises him. Then again, you’d surprised him yourself.

A grin flashes across your face. Sweet and genuine, without a sting of pain. Spike’s heart feels heavy with just a simple glance. It’s like the first time he ever saw you, back when he was keen to notice a glowing aura you possessed. He’d describe it as a pure beauty, if he could have swallowed his pride. However, it’s the added context of knowing who you really are that keeps his attention on you this time around.

“You think I have hope of becoming a ‘real’ bounty hunter like you someday?” you ask, referencing a conversation you’ve shared once before.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sweetheart,” he replies, a tiny smile appearing on his face.

Sharing a breathily laugh, the two of you soon sit and stare at one another in silence. Outside, people are shouting and police sirens are flaring. Yet his diligent ogling isn’t hindered in the slightest.

“What about respect…?” you test the waters, voice quiet and careful, “You think I’ve at least earned that?”

Smirking, Spike’s head slowly moves from your shoulder to the back of your head. His own leaning down crookedly in correlation, speaking now in a low whisper, “Don’t be modest… you’ve earned more than that.”

In one swift motion, his lips press against yours in a surprisingly soft kiss. Even as people began to pile into the building, police enforcements leading the way, the two of you stayed glued to one another. A news crew even caught a glimpse of the display of affection, only adding to outside confusion.

Breaking away from the kiss, you giggle against his lips, “We’re on TV.”

“Give ‘em a show, then, yeah?” he smirks, leaning closer and planting another kiss on your lips.

At home, within the Bebop’s common area, Jet plops down in his favorite seat with Ein at his side. The man nearly falls out of his chair upon turning on his television.

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