#and there is nothing you can say or do. I FELT vash thinking about that all recovery period. MAN.

[magadauthan]

Ep 25: Live Through

@trigun98watchparty My time has come.

I watched "Live Through" in Japanese and English for this recap. For science. It's not because this is my favorite episode, no. That has nothing to do with anything.

--How did Milly and Meryl get Vash away from LR? Does 1 ile = 1 mile? Did they swipe Legato's Cinderella coach?

--that floppy hair *swoon*

--Some have criticized Meryl for ducking outside as soon as Vash begins to talk. Perhaps that is merited, and she does carry a good measure of guilt for following him, but it felt to me more like she wanted to give him space and / or privacy. Having loud emotions all over the place is frowned on in Japanese culture, and Meryl is very, very polite. Maybe she just doesn't know what to do and panics (Vash has not always been encouraging in terms of having her around, in general). Either way, it tears her up inside to hear him wailing in despair.

--Obviously Meryl has been home tending to Vash while Milly works. It's nice to see Meryl recognize that Milly is busting her butt, but she doesn't know how to address Milly's feelings, either.

--Vash should not be up and about - he's weak and feverish and not a little delirious. Good thing Milly can carry him.

--Get in there, big sis, and tell Meryl it's okay that she loves him. She's absolutely right in that Legato would have found a way to make Vash shoot him whether or not the two of them were involved. Never hold back in matters of the heart.

--My favorite scene. Meryl, alone in the light of the fifth moon, diligently mending Vash's coat. She wants to put him back together and make him whole again, even if she gets hurt in the process. She's desperately in love with him, and she holds the kind person he is close to her heart... but he was the one who put the hole in the moon. How can she reconcile that?

--Vash does look happier.

--He tries to pet the kitty, and Kuroneko gives him a swat, which some interpret as the Trigun Goddess telling Vash to get it in gear. This is incorrect. Cats are just assholes.

--It didn't stop with Legato, now, did it. Knives is pressing harder.

--"Sound Life" must be a song they teach in NML kindergarten. Many people seem to know it, including Kaite and Meryl. (the lyrics really need to scan better, it's so awkwardly phrased)

--This scene is such a tough one. It's lovely - two lovers out under the stars, right? And Meryl is so happy that Vash is considering staying with them. But it's also plain to see that he might have given up. It would be easy, wouldn't it? Let the girls take care of him while he hides. Don't do anything, and wait for an answer.

--What were you doing up so late, Meryl? (we had some ideas)

--There's no way that the townspeople could have captured someone like Vash if he hadn't let them do it. He's so broken that he won't fight back. He's a sinner now, like Knives, like Legato, beyond redemption.

Except...

...Knives assumes that Vash would sacrifice himself for everyone else. Someone else sacrificing herself for him had never been part of the equation.

--So many have stopped believing in Vash, or he thinks they have. They turn their backs on him and he accepts it as the normal course of things. Jessica's crush was childish (I was gonna marry Luke Skywalker when I was four, just saying) but even she ran away after what happened to the ship. That's why it's so important that Meryl loves him. She has made her decision, and she's steadfast in it.

--Maybe Vash doesn't realize how much she loves him until she puts herself between him and the gun, and he hears Rem's words from Meryl's mouth and sees Rem one more time. If Meryl still loves him, then Rem can still love him too. Mistakes happen but you can learn from them, and if you have the right people in your life, they will love you through your mistakes and help you to make it better.

--And finally, Vash realizes that Rem's words apply to him, too, and that he is no less deserving of a second chance and a future than any of the others he's impressed those words on. Does that make Meryl the analogue to Alex? I think it does.

--Awww, such a sweet snuggle. And then Vash has to go doof it up like normal and Meryl has to freak out like normal. It's their love language. (TBH I'd punch my husband too if he rubbed his stubbly face on me like that.)

--What happened after that? (we have some ideas)

--Vash gets ready to go. Seeing him wash up and shave is oddly pleasing, a reminder that despite his Plant-ness, he's a regular dude who has to wash his face and brush his teeth and get haircuts and have breakfast and do all that human stuff.

--Meryl wants to say something to Vash, but she's gotten wiser too. She recognizes that even though there might be a lot that she wants to tell him (and, I think, he might want to tell her too), stating her feelings in the open would be a distraction (or even a burden) he doesn't need right then. Milly is right. There will be time when he gets back.

It doesn't come through in English, but he's so gentle with her in Japanese. He knows what she wants to say. In his own way, at that time, he's saying I love you too.

--Vash takes WW with him, with Milly's love and blessing. May you go with God's protection.

[saintprivateer]

posty by himself for now but hello again im drawing sky ship things!!

[faulty-writes]

Alright, alright, I have this little crossover idea of sorts!

Trigun is an anime in the world of MHA, and reader is crushing on Vash the Stampede. Reader has the manga, the anime on Blu-ray, figures, a plush...

How would Izuku, Bakugou, and Mirio react to their crush having a thing for Vash, who is fictional? Would they possibly get jealous, wondering what it is about him they like so much? :3

[ I love this cross-over idea. Fuck yeah! You know, it's funny. I wrote a few headcanons between the BNHA boys and them having a plushie a long time ago. I think the reader being obsessed with a fictional character, Vash in this case, is awesome and quite relatable. I honestly have to say I'm in love with Vash from the 1998 animated series, he is just so cool and I'm also currently reading the manga which is just mind-blowing. ]

His words were stolen from him when he entered your room to see endless amounts of manga, plushies, and even figurines of Vash the Stampede. Although given his collection of All Might merchandise, he knew he couldn't judge. But he also couldn't stop himself from feeling the tiniest bit jealous.

"W-what is it about t-that guy that makes them a-admire him…so much?" He asked after successfully convincing you to allow him to borrow the Blu-ray Trigun Stampede series collection you had. He didn't understand why you liked the characteristics Vash displayed but nonetheless jotted them down in his notebook as he watched.

Unfortunately, the attempts to display the same characteristics he saw to capture your attention were unsuccessful, and honestly, he felt a little pathetic about trying to be someone he wasn't. Plus, the look on your face made him feel like a bigger idiot than he was.

"I d-don't know what I was thinking…" he whined, pressing his head against his desk. "Will they…l-like me like they do V-Vash?" It was pitiful to think he was jealous of a fictional character.

"Perhaps you are approaching the problem incorrectly," Tenya suggested. "While the feeling of affection can extend to…fictional aspects, I'm certain that Y/n is aware of reality and will look at you the way you desire as long as you remain yourself." He wasn't sure how much faith he put in Tenya's words but knew he was right. Comparing himself to Vash wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Accepting something was the hardest thing but given that he was once the quirkless boy who dreamed of being a hero, he would face this issue the same way. He could accept it but not for long. He'd prove he was better than Vash The Stampede and then maybe…just maybe you'd see him as your hero.

"Tch, reading a lame manga, huh!? How stupid!" He remembers those words from his middle school years, and how you would always huddle in the corner with a stupid smile as you read 'Trigun Maximum.' The thing that years later became your obsession.

"What the hell is all this shit!?" He demanded. "This is worse than that damn Deku's room!" You had shelves filled with manga, and Blu-rays, not to mention plushies of the same character scattered around. "You shouldn't be obsessed with fictional dumbasses that swing guns around! I'm the only badass here!" And he'd prove it.

His jaw clenched tighter and tighter whenever he was in class, hearing you go on and on about your love for Vash. How cool and handsome he is, how amazing he is in combat. Damn, he hated it. He would never admit he was jealous, but what made Vash better than him!?

"What do you mean I can't take these!?" he demanded after irrationally barging into your room and stealing your Trigun manga collection. Nevertheless, after a heated argument, he settled for reading it in your room. "What the hell is so damn great about this dumbass?" From what he could gather Vash was nothing but an outlaw with a gun.

He didn't think his jealousy would affect him just like he didn't think his feelings for you would sway him from his dream of becoming a hero. But he found himself being fueled by the hatred of your Vash The Stampede obsession. Because of this, he grew extremely cocky during training exercises. He even went as far as shouting that he was better than some stupid outlaw which you found...odd, to say the least.

It didn't take a genius to realize you were unimpressed by his attempts and criticism of your favorite character. Yet, as usual, he'd be damned if you continued to idolize someone else when he should be the one idolized by you. Whether you liked it or not, he'd be the object of your affection next.

"Heh, wow...you really like this guy." Of course, it was an obvious statement with all the Vash the Stampede plushies, and merchandise that littered your bed and shelves. He picked up one of the plushies, staring into its blue button eyes that reminded him of his own and a strange feeling made his stomach twist. Was he feeling insecure?

"Oh, is that Vash the Stampede?" Nejire asked, pointing to the plushie Mirio held. "Huh, wait you know about him!?" He exclaimed. "Yeah, I-" He grasped her shoulders before she could finish. "What do you like about him!?" He demanded, and although Nejire didn't have a solid answer she settled for Vash's bravery and caring for others.

While Mirio was happy that he shared some favorable characteristics with Vash the Stampede, he still struggled to think of how to get your attention while respecting your love for the fictional character. How could you view him as you did Vash? Of course, he could never tell you who you could and couldn't love, but gosh wouldn't it be amazing if you did love him?

"So, what do you think!?" Mirio demanded with a bright smile. He was dressed in a red trench coat and orange glasses, the key pieces of clothing Vash wore. "You like Vash, right? I sure look like him now, wouldn't you agree sunshine?" To see your eyes light up when you looked at him, even in the silly little cosplay he was wearing, meant the world to him.

He convinced you to hang out with him and took you to a special area resembling the setting where the Trigun show took place. It was part of a beach, with endless sand everywhere. He wanted to impress you while respecting your feelings, and maybe make you have feelings for him. Overall, your reaction was so-so.

Despite his jealousy, and his somewhat successful attempts at trying to sway your attention away from Vash the Stampede and onto him, he wanted you to be happy. "Heh, who knows, maybe I will be their Vash someday!" Until then, he'd just keep smiling.

[firethekitty]

Ranking Every Wolfwood!!

happy wolfwood wednesday! i've ranked every wolfwood and it very quickly got out of hand and turned into more of a character analysis/meta. it was really fun and helped me better understand why i love this guy so much!

yes, really!

i hope you guys enjoy and that my autistic rambling makes sense!

1. trimax wolfwood. yeah he’s perfect. nothing else to say. god bless

while i can’t fit everything i love about him into one post, just know that i’ve written almost 30,000 words in wolfwood (and vash) character studies. so when i say “i like trimax wolfwood” that really means “i am fucking obsessed with trimax wolfwood”.

he’s the perfect mix of silly and heartbreaking, funny and serious, annoying like an older brother, deeply kind, so so painfully human; and a PERFECT foil to vash. simply phenomenal writing.

my only complaint would be that his tits are not on display like they are in the 1998 anime. but i can appreciate the subtly, so this doesn’t detract from his otherwise flawless score.

2. 98 wolfwood. omg hiiiii hehe twirling my hair ohh he’s so handsome what an absolutely beautiful design for him. his nose, his spider-esque shape, his TITS…… they even kept his little whiskers!

on top of an amazing design, he’s a very good balance of silly, irritable, playfully annoying, and serious! he fits pre-trimax wolfwood to a T!

but, as trimax progressed…

he’s cool. too cool. he has too much pull. wolfwood should NOT have swag. genuinely it is imperative to his character that he is, and i say this as lovingly as possible, a fucking loser with no friends.

wolfwood is a deeply traumatized man. he isn’t nearly as charming as we, the audience, thinks he is. no one laughs at his jokes, his insults are crude and immature, he embarrasses himself in front of literal children…

god, he is so painfully awkward. and who wouldn’t be in his situation? to have your childhood stolen and forced to grow up as a weapon? not allowed to interact casually with anyone else during the most important developmental stage of your life?

he's just not suave like tri98 wolfwood is. so, while 98 wolfwood is an excellent character, he doesn’t entirely read “wolfwood” to me. similar to how 98 vash is good on his own, but he’s just not “vash”. this is, of course, the result of making an anime out of a manga that wasn’t even 30% finished at the time. while i don’t understand the reasoning behind this, i know that nightow desperately needed the funds the anime brought in, as well as the motivation to keep making trimax, so i have to simply make peace with the dated characterizations tri98 has.

but don’t get me started on the milly situation. really a godawful writing decision, idk who approved that mess.

3. tristamp wolfwood. he is so bullyable. he’s like a sopping wet cat. absolute fucking dweeb.

i debated this for a long time—whether i should rank tristamp wolfwood above tri98 wolfwood. and i asked myself, do i love tri98 wolfwood because he’s a good character and is similar to trimax wolfwood? does he even remind me of trimax wolfwood at all? well, not really, he’s very clearly based on pre-trimax, just like tri98 vash is.

ultimately i decided i do genuinely just prefer tri98 wolfwood, but i felt the need to defend tristamp wolfwood because i see a lot of fair criticisms but also really dumb discourse throughout the fandom about him. so here’s my attempt at trying to address these:

so, there are some things i really enjoy about him and some things i really dislike; and, unlike vash, most of these criticisms are not a result of time/pacing issues. they’re easily fixable.

like, for the love of god he NEEDS to get sillier. they got the loser part down, but he’s a bit too overtly sad in tristamp. i think he will be more like his trimax self in season 2, but wolfwood’s humor is in-part a coping mechanism and important to his character. he’s an older brother! he’s fucking annoying! he thinks he's funny when he isn't! we do get a little bit of this with him and meryl, when he's tormenting her at the campfire, and that’s what i want to see more of. even if he’s playing it up, he should be working on getting their guards down, convincing them he isn't going to betray them.

since tristamp takes place in a weird prequel sort of canon, i get that he would look/act younger than he is in trimax. i think he was modeled after the teenage wolfwood we see in the flashback scenes of him training for the eye of michael, where he’s noticeably less outgoing and more reserved.

however, this doesn’t change the fact that he WAS silly as a kid in trimax, before his “teenage angst phase” (hate to call it that when it’s more like a “realizing he’s going to die by the gun and not being able to do anything about it” phase). but he’s still a lot quieter and reserved in tristamp as a kid, so i think we really need to find a good balance here in the trigun adaptations.

another example of an easily fixable issue—i really hate how they did the “vash sees how kind wolfwood is” scene, in which wolfwood gives money/snacks to children. in tristamp, wolfwood already knows the kid is zazie, which tells us absolutely nothing about his character. this scene is almost entirely worthless, only good for reminding vash that he should eat, which gives tristamp its own not-as-good hospital yuri scene.

and, so, about the elephant in the room… i don’t think he was whitewashed. let me try to explain my thought process.

tristamp, as far as i can tell, doesn’t seem to be taking any inspiration from tri98, whose wolfwood is very explicitly a brown man. trimax wolfwood i feel is a bit more ambiguous in his skin tone, which alternates between dark screentones and completely uncolored pretty much at solid 50/50 odds. just fairly inconsistent overall, even on the official manga covers.

but this doesn’t mean wolfwood is white in tristamp, and it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his aquiline nose. the notorious scenes of him in the suns, looking white as a fucking sheet, shows us how a 3D environment can diminish a character’s silhouette and distinctive features.

compare this to scenes of wolfwood in a dim environment, or to the 2D scenes of child wolfwood and livio that i can't include bc i'm only allowed 10 pics. he looks MUCH better, much darker than vash, and as they both should appear in such lighting. it just doesn't add up—he should be much darker in strong light if they followed the same color values:

SO, even though i feel like all of this is more of a technical issue rather than malicious whitewashing, that doesn’t mean i think it’s acceptable. it looks fucking awful, and the lighting system needs major improvement to work with darker skin tones.

and, like, at the end of the day, wolfwood isn’t canonically latino, and he doesn't really have a consistent skin tone either. it’s a great headcanon, one i partially share, but it’s not canon. the only ethnicity that could technically be considered somewhat canon is japanese, as wolfwood was based off a japanese singer named tortoise matsumoto. you can see this resemblance best in early trigun!

and i really need to defend his nose!!! a lot of people say he lost his nose but he didn’t!! i promise it’s there!!! another victim of his 3D model, you can only see his nose from the side or in the 2D frame after he gets his shit wrecked. see how clearly he has a very well-defined nose when he’s hand-drawn? this is what i mean when i say a 3D environment can drastically alter a character’s important features, as much as i otherwise adore the animation for this show.

also, if you think nightow would let studio orange get away with not including his nose, you got another thing coming.

in conclusion, while i think tristamp wolfwood is a great start, he’s just not quite there yet. but i have immense faith that the next time we see him, he’ll look and act a lot more like he does in trimax!

i know this is true, because there are already some shots in tristamp where i’m just like. oh yeah. there he is. that’s wolfwood. there's the guy i love so much

...

well, that was long! this was really fun to write and i

oh jesus christ what the hell is that thing

4. badlands rumble wolfwood. ah, now here’s a great example of overt whitewashing. no lighting excuses this time, just blatant colorism.

even if he wasn’t ghostly white, there's just something about his design that makes me viscerally uncomfortable and i can’t pinpoint what it is exactly. he’s just so… angular. he has no scruff, no kitty cat mouth, his eyes are very oddly shaped, almost no eyebrows... i just really hate looking at him!

his ONLY saving grace is how mentally ill he acts in this movie. and his tits. otherwise i don’t really have much to say about him!

ok, now we’re done! and here’s a handy wolfwood chart i made to summarize everything.

really hope this was fun to read and if people liked this i'd be glad to write a vash version or other characters!! happy woowoo wednesday :)

[peachyloveswriting]

I really enjoy how you write Knives and Vash. I enjoyed the one with the sick reader so much.

If by chance could you do something with reader who has bad anxiety and panic attacks?

Maybe for Knives the reader is already feeling down because they are not allowed outside (sorta like seasonal depression I guess) and they feel of no use to him.

For Vash maybe something about how he says he wishes the reader wouldn't follow him and the group to Wolfwood or one of the others and they over hear him. He just wants them safe of course. They feel useless even though they have been able to keep safe so far. Feeling unwanted sends them into a panic.

Lately I have been pretty down and my anxiety about the smallest things have sent me into a panic.

Much love <3

I'm really glad that you've enjoyed my work so far and I hope you feel better soon. For now let me do some comfort and fluff. I'm in the mood right now. Also I've noticed that I sometimes accidentally write in first person so if I switch up on you guys I'm sorry Lmao.

Miscommunication and Self doubt --- Vash & Knives

SUMMARY: It doesn't take a lot to make someone feel worthless, maybe people should pay more attention to what they do.

Millions Knives

Artificial light, the only light that fills every room I've been in for the past four months. When was the last time I felt the suns on my skin, I had a fresh breath of air? God I have no clue. Ever since Knives took me in I've been stuck inside this tower with no hope of ever seeing the outside again. Just to make matters worse I get to watch everyone else do something useful while I sit and hope for a day that will never come. It fills my heart with dread every time I think about it.

I have no special duty, I don't run errands, I don't do chores. I sit and I act as a wall piece all day everyday. I stand by Knives side, accompanying him wherever he wants me too. Watching him play his piano, I feel particularly let down today.

Between the solemn notes and my aching heart, I don't know which was the straw that broke the Camels back, but I fell to my knees. Tears slid down my face and ragged breaths left my mouth, I sobbed, covering my eyes with my hands. Suddenly the melodious tune stopped making its way into my head and someone grabbed my shoulders.

"Petal?" Knives shook me with worry, he's checking me over for the source of my crying, but no injury is visible. "What's wrong?" He pulls my hands away from my face and cups my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. "Speak to me." His hands are gentle as ever, it's almost hard to believe that he's actually touching me.

"What's my point?" I choke out. "What's the point of me being here when I do nothing for you?" I pull away from his touch, another wretched sob falling from my lips. His face softens as his hands fall back to his sides. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Through my teary eyes I can see his blades slithering out from behind him, coming right for me. My heart sinks and I feel sick, he was actually taking my advice. This wasn't really the way I wanted it to happen but it was death, the sweet release. Closing my eyes, I patiently wait to feel him cut through me, to tear me apart and never wake me up again. Instead, I feel the blades carefully wrap around my back, pushing me forward.

Opening my eyes, Knives grabs my shoulders once within reach and pulls me against him in a hug. His blades slip off my back but stay close, I can't tell if he's actually debating on killing me or if he's just trying to keep me in place. Against him, I sob. It's hysterical at this point, I'm so lost. He has no reason to keep me here so why am I still here?

"Why?" I have no special purpose for him. "Why am I here?"

One of his hands rubs my back while the other holds the back on my head close to him, he's holding me so gently. I feel like he's scared of hurting me, but why? I serve no purpose to him. Even still, he lets me cry into his shoulder, and even rubs my back in an attempt to comfort me. It's almost like he really does care.

"You're here because I want you to be. I enjoy your company and... You're very interesting to me." He pulls away. "but I don't understand what makes you think I'd kill you. I clearly have a reason not to."

He moves his thumb to swipe away my tears. "I'm sorry it's just... I've been stuck in here for so long I feel like I'm losing my mind. I can't... I don't want to be stuck here for the rest of my life. I don't even do anything, I want to do something. I don't want to feel useless."

He leans closer. "I can assure you that you are not useless, you offer me entertainment, company, knowledge, and more. My want is for you to be comfortable, if you are not, I have failed. If you wish to leave I will escort you out?" His offer is kind, I'm taken aback by it. Seeing the way he usually treats things, this was not at all what I expected.

I shake my head. "I do want to leave but not like that! I just want to go outside..." I lift my hand to wipe the wetness from my eyes. "I don't wish to burden you, Knives."

He sighs. "Yet again, you're not a burden." Letting me go completely, his blades retract and he stands. "Come with me." He extends a hand to me. "I shall take you outside."

Taking a deep breath I grab his hand and pull myself up. "Thank you." He doesn't say anything in return, quietly leading me towards his room. Walking through the door I'm greeted by a large bed, I was sure he had never used it. It was untouched, sheets laid without a single wrinkle at all. It was like he'd never even touched it. He pulled me forward towards the large sheath of curtains, brushing them to the side. Bright sunlight fills the room and he pulls open a sliding door, turning to the side he gently tugs me forward. I can already feel the breeze hitting my skin before I ever step out. It feels reliving to feel the wind blowing in my face again.

Stepping out onto the small balcony, I press my hands against the rail and close my eyes. Behind me I can hear the door shut and Knives approaching. The air smells clean and the sun is purifying. I could relish in this moment forever, it makes it even harder to believe I'll have to go back in, I don't want too. I'd rather stay out here where I can feel myself at peace with the world, where the wind blows all my worries away.

"Feel better?" I open my eyes to see Knives leaned on the balcony rail beside me, resting his face in his hand. The corners of his lipa twitch up into a ghostly smile, almost non-existent.

"Much." I adjust my gaze to the city below. "Good. I'll be sure to accommodate you more often. I had never thought to ask how you were doing or what you might have needed."

I take a deep breath. "Thank you, Knives."

He stands up straight. "It's good to see you smile again." At the mention I could suddenly feel the smile on my lips, I hadn't noticed it before. "That's what you'll do for me..."

I look at him confused. "If you want to feel of use to me, smile more. It looks good on you."

Vash

"I'm going to sleep. Good night." You waved everyone goodbye before you claimed into your tent. The outside was illuminated by the flickering fire, Meryl and Roberto had already gone to sleep. It was only Vash and Wolfwood left after you. For a long time it was quiet, sleep was beginning to creep in and you were comfortable. That's when you Heard it.

"Why did they have to stick around?" Vash pokes at the fire with a stick. Wolfwood looks up at him in wonder "Huh? You mean Y/n?"

"Yeah... I just wish they wouldn't stick around." You don't get to hear him finish the sentence, you cover your ears and dig your face into the pillow. Something in your chest aches deeply, the thought of leaving the group after becoming so close to everyone hurts. To think the best out of all of them wanted you gone hurt the most, you didn't do anything to make him hate you. Was it that you didn't contribute? Everyone played their part but you... You were just there.

You don't do anything but cook and help set up camp for the night, it's not much at all compared to what everyone else does. Meryl's got a job with Roberto, Wolfwood is trying to keep you all from dying, and Vash.... He was looking for his brother, trying to save the world. That's more than you could ever do for the group, you bring them down. You get in the way of everyone's objectives, you don't contribute, what's worse than dead weight?

When you uncovered your ears, it was eerily quiet outside, the fire wasn't crackling anymore and Vash and Wolfwood had grown quiet. Heart heavy in your chest, you moved your blanket off of you and climbed to the entrance of your tent. Peeling it back you stick your head outside, the fire is almost out, Vash and the others are nowhere to be seen. You assume they've gone to sleep. Crawling out, you wrap your blanket around your shoulders and walk over to the truck.

The wind nips at your exposed skin as you reach up and grab your bag from the top, it slips from your hands and falls heavily on your foot. Your mouth shoots open to call out in pain but you hiss through clenched teeth instead. After hopping about, you pick the bag up and sling it over your shoulder, stopping to look and back sure you haven't woken anyone up. The silence gives you an answer, you pad back to your tent, quickly undoing it to pack it away in your bag. It fits snugly with all your other items as you tie it back. With everything ready, you tie the blanket securely around you as a coat and begin to walk away from the camp site.

The air is cold and lonely as you venture into the desolate night, from afar strange creatures call out, sending chills through your body. While running with the group, you fared well, managing to keep out of trouble. Alone, you weren't sure you were going to make it. Looking back at the tents, you realize they're much smaller than before. It would be pointless to turn back now, it hurts to leave like this but if Vash didn't want you there you were willing to leave. Albeit bringing you to tears in the process.

For the next day into the night, you traveled alone, not a soul in sight. The heat from the suns has just worn off and the cool nights air breezes past. You haven't stopped since you started, your legs burn with intensity, and your eyes threaten to close. It would be unwise to camp in the middle of the dunes, you searched for a rock face to settle down against but there were none in sight. You realize now that your choice to leave so suddenly without thinking it through wasn't a good idea, you couldn't go back now, they'd certainly have moved on by now. You'd just have to get by until the next town.

Suddenly, from behind you begin to hear shouting. It sounds like your name from somewhere out in the distance, certainly you had to be going crazy. Then it came again, closer this time. You turn to see what's calling out for you, running up on a Thomas, Is Vash.

"Vash?" Your eyes widen in surprise as he jumps off the Thomas, throwing you into the sand, hugging you.

"I was so worried. You scared me. I followed your footsteps for two days!" He pulled back with a smile on his face. Just before he was saying he didn't want you around, now he's acting like he misses you.

"You wanted me to stop following you." His smile falls. "So I left."

His heart falls to his stomach. "What do you mean?"

You blink at him. "You said you didn't want me to follow you around anymore. I overheard when you told Wolfwood."

Vash sits up, pulling you with. "I could see why you wouldn't want me around anymore, I don't do a whole lot..." He frowns, keeping your hand in his. "That's not why I said it." He tips your head up to look at him. "I said it because I'm dangerous. If you stay around me long enough you'll get killed."

I stare at him in silence for a moment. "What bout the others?"

He nods. "Them too. But Wolfwood and Roberto know how to keep themselves alive. You and Meryl... She only has a chance because of Robertoz but you." Vash sighs. Tears start to burn your eyes as you look at him. "Me... I'm worthless." It comes out as a broken sob, one that you can't stop from escaping.

Slumping forward, your head collides with Vash's shoulder. Shaking and sputtering, you sob against him, his hands rushing to soothe your shaking body. He engulfs you in a hug, hands rubbing your back and brushing your head. "Don't say that. You do an amazing job of staying out of trouble and you're an even better addition to the team. But I'm scared you might get hurt one day." His hot breath tickles your skin as he talks. "I want to keep you safe."

White hot anger rushes over you, you raise your head. "Then do that! Don't just send me away and expect that to be even better, it's worse! If you want me to be safe then show me how to use a gun."

His eyes are wide with surprise. You've never yelled at Vash like that, it hurt seeing you so angry. "If that's what you want, I'll do it."

You nod your head. "Yes. Anything to help, please."

"Of course. Let's get back to the others though, you need to eat and get water before you pass out. Sit in front of me so you can rest for a bit too." He takes your hand and pulls you to your feet. "I'm really sorry I made you feel this way." He adverts his gaze as he leads you to the Thomas. "I had no idea you could hear me, it was nothing but the best intentions, I swear."

Vash helps you climb onto the Thomas first before grabbing reigns and hoisting himself up behind you. "I know. It still hurts though."

His face softens. "It won't happen again. I swear. Just stick by my side and you'll be safe."

[bloodypeachblog]

Wolfwood X F!Reader NSFW headcanons/drabble

~~~♡♡♡~~~

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Ok, I'm not drooling over Nick here, but I get why others do, I can see it. If I weren't simping for Vash 24/7, sure, I'd settle with him. I could fix that attitude of his. But whatever, let's go. Don't know what this is exactly, but don't care, just enjoy. Those who wanted Nick's version, bon appetit!

• Now, this guy acts like a drunk asshole a majority of the time. He's also a shit priest. I wouldn't have him running your grandma's funeral, is all I'm saying.

• He can act cocky, sarcastic, cold, all that shit. But you can see right through that mask.

• you can tell that he was just a guy that was hurt many times as a kid and he only closed himself off and acted like an asshole because he didn't want to be hurt again. Can't blame him, honestly.

• when you joined him, he was curmudgeonly about it, but over time, you started to grow on him. But don't expect him to show it or say it.

• time goes on, he ends up catching feelings for you and in his head, he's like 'bro wtf is this sappy shit?'

• of course, he never fully showed it, but slowly, he started to be nicer to you, and only you. Little gestures, looks, and words that showed that there was more to him than the cold sarcastic prick persona.

• it wasn't until you both stayed at an inn and they only had one room with one bed available that things changed.

• it was the only place for miles and it wasn't safe to be out late at night, so you both agreed to stay.

• once it was time for bed, you suggested he sleep in the bed with you, since there was enough room for both of you.

• it takes him some convincing, but he soon agrees and climbs in with you.

• when you both ended up facing each other, he starts to blush a bit and you can see something different in his eyes.

• you ask him about it and he denies it.

• you keep pushing him and pushing him and pushing him until...

• "IT'S BECAUSE I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, OKAY?! NOW SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP! GODDAMMIT!!" He turns his back to you in a huff.

• You're left shell-shocked by the fast confession for a few seconds. Wait...did he just...? Oh fuck, he did.

• you then smile and think 'ok I know what to do now.'

• luckily you felt the same way for him, so you felt that the time was now.

• you lift yourself up a bit and turn his head towards you and you kiss him on the lips, nothing deep, but just a soft and gentle press.

• Now, usually, he'd push you off and go 'what the ever loving FUCK is wrong with you?!' But...something was different tonight.

• he felt...okay with it. In fact...this wasn't all that bad.

• was it because it was you kissing him? Most definitely.

• he turns his body around and pulls you close to him, returning your kiss with a deeper one.

• you wrap your arms around him as your tongue danced with his.

• Jesus, take the wheeeeeeel~

• you both lose yourselves in the kiss and forget about the rest of the shitty world.

• it's not long until he shifts so he's on top of you and starts kissing your neck.

• you softly moan and he can't. Get. ENOUGH.

• he starts to unbutton your shirt and opens it to reveal your breasts, out in the open.

• his mouth and hands immediately going towards them, sucking and licking on one of your nipples while massaging your other breast.

• you can feel your lower heat start to grow warmer the more he did all of this to you.

• not long after that, he pulls your soaked underwear down and starts to eat you out.

• Oh yeah. This man eats pussy. I mean, look at him. Of course he does.

• you try to hold in your moans as you grasp at his hair, your fingers gripping it tightly, trying to ride the pleasure he was giving you.

• you feel his tongue all on your lips, your clit, even sliding inside a bit.

• man was on a mission to make you cum on his face.

• fortunately, that mission was a success.

• he wipes his face and licks his juice-covered hand clean.

• he sits up on his knees and takes his shirt off and undoes his pants to take his huge cock out, throbbing and dripping precum already. (Ok ngl, that's hot as hell).

• he grabs your hips and pulls you in, rubbing his cock on your pussy, teasing it.

• he loves to watch you squirm and beg, so he takes his time teasing you.

• "you want it, eh? You cute little slut. Say that and maybe I'll give it."

• you say what he wants you to say, that you're his cute little slut and no one else's. That you were made to only be fucked by him. That kind of shit.

• once he's satisfied with the responses, he smirks, says "that's my girl", and just rams himself inside you.

• guy is completely stretching you out, holy shit he's so big.

• no wonder he's a man of god, you would be too if you were blessed with such a gift like that.

• he slams your hips onto his, going balls deep.

• he's either licking, kissing, or biting your neck and shoulders as he fucks into you.

• now it's getting REALLY hard to hold in your moans, so when he gets the message, he kisses you deeply and lets you moan in his mouth as much as you want.

• he pulls you up so that you're both sitting up, but you're facing him and while you're riding him, he's licking and sucking and kneading your breasts.

• you didn't believe in God before, this man will make you see the light.

• he whispers the dirtiest shit in your ear. Just, pure filth. To the point that it's questionable whether he is a man of god or not.

• but you didn't care. Oh no, you were too busy drowning in pure ecstasy while you bounce on his throbbing cock.

• you were positive you came about, like, 3 times already, but he was still going.

• and you loved every second of it.

• now, the question is, does he 'use the back door'? Oh hell yeah, no doubt. If you're cool with it, of course. He preps you real well, too.

• and I hope you don't mind occasional hair-pulling, because he does it. Short or long hair, he'll grab it and use it as leverage so he could fuck you harder.

• soon enough, he's reached his limit, but no way in hell is he pulling out.

• if God made it so a man's seed can be accepted in a woman's womb, well, Nick isn't one to neglect that, now is he?

• So Much Cum™

• Dude's been backed up for years, being a man of the cloth would do that to ya.

• but you're happily accepting it, your pussy and womb drinking it up to full capacity.

• once the deed is done, he'll throw you a towel to let you clean yourself. While you're doing that, he lights a cigarette.

• Once you're done and he's finished off the cigarette, you and him are lying in bed, holding each other close, fast asleep.

• before he dozed off, he planned on what he would do for round 2 in the morning.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

(A/N: does this apply to 1998 Nick? Fuck yeah, it does.)

[mrsvalentinefucker1]

Medic x f!reader SMUT

Reader Who learns German to surprise him

I’ll do spy soon 😭😶

For the past 8 months you’ve been concealing the fact that you have been learning German to impress your handsome doctor. You felt bad at he couldn’t share his love for his native tongue with anyone on the team…Though you knew it did definitely have its perks you still wanted to learn and just have something to bond over.

You waltz over to the man, his hands and shirt bloody as he stood in the kitchen taking what seemed to be a break. It was never common for him to break in the kitchen but you can tell he was stressed and definitely tired.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, liebling.” He leaned against the counter

“Are you sure?” You gazed up and down his exhausted form

He nodded.

You reached up to push his glasses up off the bridge of his nose. “Tired?” You asked as you rubbed his face.

He nodded “I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m always vorking.. I never have time for sleep.”

You cooed. “My poor baby..”

He leaned into your touch

“Do you need any help, gutaussehend?.” He opened his eyes at your words

“gutaussehend? Vhere did you learn zhat?” he shot up and chuckled

“I’ve been practicing.” You folded your arms “why? Was it bad? Did I say something offensive-?” Your hands came up to cover your mouth as you stared at him wide eyed

“Nein, Schön.” He grabbed your hands letting a kiss fall on one of them

“Ok good- i was so worried.”

“You know, I could help you vith practicing your german if you vant…And I could finally get some sleep after.” He caressed your hand

“How?” You fell into his touch, forgetting all about his bloodied shirt

“How about I make you scream it?” He whispered

Your face turned a deep shade of red

You gripped his muscular arm and rushed to your medics room.

It was so clean. Unlike his office, his room was spotless. Bed made, clothes put away, mirrors wiped clean with not a speck of dirt or dust anywhere. This was his space. He couldn’t have this anywhere else so it had to be perfect.

Medic closed the door behind him as you pulled him towards the bed.

“Shouldn’t I vash my hands?”

“Do you want to? I think it’s kind of- hot..”

He shrugged “I guess not zhen~” his tone lowered

You pushed him onto the bed, crawling ontop of him

“I’ll try to keep it off of the sheets..”

“Zhese sheets will have more than just blood on zhem vhen vere done, meine Frau”

You kissed him, feeling his cock already growing underneath your clothed sex that was hovering over him

He whimpered as you began to kiss his neck, his bloodies hands running over your clean clothes

He quickly moved his lips to your neck, returning the favor.

“mehr” you managed to squeak out.

He nodded while his lips still latched to your neck. Medic began grabbing at your ass, greedily kneading the flesh

You grabbed his face and moved his lips to yours, moaning into his touch.

His hands moved to feel your soaked cunt through your thin pants, rubbing your clit to give you some kind of friction. You moved his hand back to your ass. You had a better idea. You began to grind on his hard cock.

Both of you moaning into the sloppy kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss to take your shirt off, medic rubbing your hips and waist as you did.

“You’re so beautiful like zhis, y/n.”

“Oh Ludwig.. I want you.” You leaned down back onto his chest, kissing him again as he switched positions with you. He now towered over your smaller form. He pulled away from the kiss once more to pull his own shirt off, you wrapped your legs around his waist to provide both of you with friction.

“Gott.. y/n.”

“Take me.” You pulled at the waist band of his pants.

“mit Vergnügen.”

You slid out of your pants and panties, tossing them your pants on the floor but tossing your panties at the man

He grabbed them and began to get flustered. Taking them and inhaling the scent. Leaving them on his bed for a later time.

He slid his pants off, letting his cock spring free, tapping against the top of his belly button.

“Fuck..” you whispered out.

You reached your hand to massage your clit. Medic watched the lewd scene before him as he pumped his cock.

“Are you ready..?”

You nodded as you bit your lip

Medic lined himself up with your slicked entrance. Sliding only the tip in and out, teasing you with his cock. You pulled him in with your legs, his cock sliding inside of your tight cunt and bottoming out. You both moaned out in pleasure.

“You’re cock.. Ludwig..”

“Yes y/n? Vhat does my sweet girl have to say?” He leaned down so he could hear you better

“Feels- mm- good.. please move..”

“Vhat vas zhat? I didn’t quite hear you..”

You knew what he wanted. Trying to remember any of your German lessons you formed a sentence

“Bitte.. f-fick mich?”

“Braves Mädchen. I suppose i can do zhat for you..”

he began to move his hips, moving your legs to his shoulders as he began to pound into your dripping cunt.

“Ti-“ you tried to manage to speak out to your doctor

“Was? Sag es laut, leibling”

You clenched around his cock as he started to slow down his pace until you spoke out

“T-tiefer! B-Bitte!!”

The man chuckled as he began to quicken his pace.

“Sag das nochmal!” He practically yelled out

“Bitte, Ludwig!! Tiefer!”

You reached to play with your clit and it had you seeing stars as your orgasm rushed to you like your doctor has done to you helpless amounts of time. His bloody hand leaving prints on your thighs and waist

“Fuck!! G-gonna cu-uh-mM!” You moaned out as your orgasm hit you hard and fast. You clenched on the doctors cock through your squirting orgasm.

“Gott, miene liebling. Ich liebe dich!!” The doctor shouted as he thrusted into your soaked pussy, a sigh leaving his mouth as his eyes twitched from his orgasm. Filling you up to the brim with his cum. Some of his warm seed dripping out of you and onto the clean bed.

He leaned down to kiss you. Hands still on your waist and cock still deep inside of you.

“You think I’m going to end up pregnant from this?” You smiled

“I hope so~” he rolled off of you.

Holding you to his chest as you both fell asleep

————

Buy me a Kofi!☕️

Definitely not required but they do help:)

[whirlwindimagines]

Hello, I really love your writing! I just wanted to drop a request for Vash taking care of reader who has a headache. Thx.

Love these simple comforts <3

'And your hand touches mine'

Vash x Reader

It's the heat, you can’t help but think miserably. You’d think after living so long on this shitty desert planet you call home the heat would be the last thing to bother you. Yet here you are lying in some shitty hotel room with the curtains drawn and trying to make it as dark as possible. The quiet was helping, the headache started early, just some slight irritation behind the eyes. But the longer you walked, and the longer the sun beat down on you, it only got worse and worse. 

It got to the point where Vash forced you to stop walking and tell him what was wrong. You always felt bad inconveniencing Vash, he had so many things to worry about real problems. And here you were, not being able to function with a silly headache. 

“It's nothing really.” you say quietly, it almost comes out as a whisper, as Vash stands in front of you with a look of concern, “Are you sure?” ugh, has his voice always been this loud? He wasn't even yelling, but his words just sounded so loud. Lifting your hands to rub your temples, maybe you should answer. The longer the silence hangs between the two of you, the more Vash can tell that it's just not nothing.

“I just have a headache, I'm sure it’ll go away soon.” You say waving one of your hands dismissively, while the other continues to rub your temple, hoping it’ll just go away with some pressure. It wasn't working. Eyes closed you can’t see the way Vash just keeps staring at you, he likes solving problems, but he doesn’t know really how to solve this one. It's not like he can make the headache disappear.

Vash reaches out, touching your check lightly with just a brush of his fingers, “There is a town nearby, why don't we find somewhere to rest for the night? Get you out of the sun.”  That sounds simply wonderful so with a slight nod, Vash grabs your hand and has you walk at his side, helping you along. 

That’s how you ended up in this room, Vash left a bit ago you are not sure what he was doing, maybe giving you some peace and quiet, he is considerate like that. Maybe you just needed some sleep, it's been a long day and the headache wasn't going away anyway. With a sigh you turn on your side, trying to at least get comfortable. 

It's maybe an hour later when Vash comes back to the hotel room, trying to enter as quietly as possible, he sees you resting on the bed and lets out a sigh of relief, it looks like you finally managed to get some sleep after all! Carefully Vash sat on the edge of the bed, placing what he bought on the nightstand, it's not much it's not like this town was even very big, but he found some things that could help with a headache at least!

Carefully, he places his hand on your forehead, brushing the hair that’s fallen into your face. Maybe he shouldn't be so touchy with you, but he can’t help it. He enjoys spending time with you so much, you just make him happy it's that simple. So even if you don't think the headache matters, it matters to him to make you feel better. Vash starts to panic when he watches you frown face twitching, and lifting a hand to rub your eyes, slowly starting to wake up. Oh no did he wake you up?

It's still so dark in the room when you wake, but you can see the soft glow of Vash’s cybernetic arm, his flesh arm hovering in front of your face as if he was going to touch you. “Vash? what time is it?” rubbing some more sleep from your eyes, the headache is still there but not as pounding as before. 

“It's not that late, you’ve been asleep for an hour. I got you some aspirin.” Vash says quietly, retracting his hand, hoping he didn't sound awkward, you don't notice his little internal struggle. Just resting back against the pillows with your eyes closed, listening to him fumble around. 

“Here.” opening your eyes to look up at Vash’s soft face, he hands you some aspirin and a canteen of water. Taking the pills and the water with a quiet thanks, you swallow the aspirin placing the canteen on the nightstand. “You didn't have to get anything for me,” you say with a sigh trying to get comfortable again, laying back down and closing your eyes. 

“I wanted to,” Vash says voice kind, but with a slight firmness to it. You were both similar in the sense it was hard to accept help, and kindness from others. The silence settles over the two of you, not uncomfortable just a nice quiet. 

“Can you stay?” the words slip out of your mouth faster than you can catch them, and well now you can’t take them back, placing your hands over your face to dig the heels of your palms into your face. Why did I say that? Is the only thing that can run through your mind. “You know what never-”

“Okay.” you shut up right away at that soft tone, the way he said it. It makes your heart skip a beat; however, you can’t look at him as he lays down next to you. The two of you just resting on your backs, a respectful space between your bodies. With a sigh, you place your hands down at your sides, painfully aware of the person next to you. How the hell would you rest now? 

Breath hitching when Vash shyly locks his pinky around yours, “Is….is this okay?” he sounds unsure, and well it makes you smile. He was just as nervous as you were, “More than okay.” you answer honestly. It was amusing, the two of you were strong and could even be dangerous, yet here you were lying next to each other too nervous to speak, too shy to look at each other, locking your pinkies together because anything else would be too much. 

And you wouldn't have it any other way, this thing between you and Vash it was scary and exciting, the pace was slow, but it was perfect. Keeping your eyes closed, but not able to keep the smile on your face, sleep comes pretty easily. Right before you drift off to sleep completely, you hear him whisper your name, followed by a good night and the slight grip of his hand in yours.

a/n: I know I haven't been writing as much, work has kept me busy! But I'll try to post on Saturdays because I miss Stampede Saturdays ;p; Happy Pride Month ya'll~

[mediocreanomaly]

i'm so normal. can i request a part 2 to the knives/reader soulmate au? im just so curious how it'd go, hdjdjnd

Authors Note: Non-Normal Knives kisser spotted.

Kidding! yes of course I shall make you a pt.2 (guys am I the Trigun Soulmate guy now? I'm not complaining it's just a bit funny to me, let me infect you with Trigun soulmate au now...)

*Not NSFW but a slightly "spicy" scene at the end (jesus I'm old do people still say spicy unironically? guys I mean it ironically I swear-)*

Read Part 1 Here!

Knives X Reader Soulmate AU Pt.2

•It's a painstaking process, both literally and metaphorically, as Knives recovers

•You feel awful. Your body vaguely burns everywhere, Knives is incapacitated, and the fact it's Legato who sits like a hawk watching over the two of you not yet trusting of your intentions doesn't exactly ease any of your stress

•It's a bit tedious dodging the blue haired mans constant questioning not quite ready to say "hey you know the most feared man in all of Gunsmoke who hates the idea of soulmates is actually my soulmate?" yeah sounds awful.

•So you sit dutifully day and night rewrapping wounds and running your fingers through Knives's hair appreciating that he at least seems to heal much quicker than humans do so hopefully this aching burn will subside quickly

•When he finally wakes up it's, of course, the one time you leave the room to go get something to eat. You almost imagine the dammed plant planned this even though you know it's not the case

•You stand in the door way...saying nothing. The two of you had become close before, was close the right word? but now you felt awkward and out of place watching Knives' cold blue eyes stare a hole into you

"Legato says you haven't left my side" he says, it's more of a statement than a question but you'll bite

"Yes." You say simply, not making a move as if dealing with a wild animal that's ready to pounce

"Why?" He's searching you as if looking for something or...no he's watching you like he's waiting to catch you in a lie

"I think you already know" Is all you can manage. You stay still, waiting for sharpness of metal, you just hope it'll be quick. You weren't stupid, you knew Knives didn't want a soulmate, so there wasn't much to do than to accept the fate the universe had laid out for you. You close you eyes and wait....and wait....and- wasn't he going to kill you?

You peek your eyes open to see Knives watching you with a furrowed brow. You have to admit he looks oddly cute like this despite the fact your life is most certainly in danger.

He stares, as if perplexed by you then scoffs

"This is ridiculous. I'd never be bound to a human like you" he states, you just nod not sure what to do until he sits up straight in bed

"Come, inform me of what's happened while I was asleep"

You aren't stupid enough to try and push the matter or point out the fact he was a little worse off than "asleep" so you just sit on the side of the bed with him, giving him what little information you know.

•After that he begins to talk about his new plans. You listen intently, letting him ramble on about this new era he's planning to usher in

•and if he begins to stray from the topic, if he begins to go on about the Ja'lai incident, or about how he really thought Vash would understand...don't bring any attention to it, your slowly beginning to understand there's a reason he trust you with these things even if he won't say it out loud

•Speaking of which...he won't say anything about the "soulmate" matter out loud. Not now anyways, not yet. He's not sure why but...he can't bring himself to kill you and it scares him. He isn't used to sparing lives besides his brothers and even then his forms of punishment are a lot more severe than what he's willing to do to you

•Not that he didn't contemplate taking a limb or letting you see how sharp his knives can really be but there'd be no point really he'd only be hurting himself (at least that's what he tells himself)

•He's also...a bit protective of you now. Even though he still refuses to say to anyone, including you, that you're his soulmate he does make vague mentions of it when you try to leave and he says something along the lines of

"No you can't leave. If you were to get hurt it'd be inefficient for me"

•(aw he likes you!)

•He begrudgingly lets you begin working again because there was a reason he allowed you to stay with his team in the first place, although if his hovering around your work place was bad before it's 10x worse now

•You are met with the sight of his chest every time you turn around and you have to shyly look up to the piercing gaze that's trained on you like a predator

•eventually you get him to back up a little bit by telling him if you spill any chemicals on him it'll just burn the both of you although he still stands in the corner watching your every move

•In all...don't expect him to be all lovely dovey...yet. Although...

You stand absent mindedly as you look over your work. This formula was driving you nuts and the constant feeling of being watched wasn't exactly helping. You lean down placing your hands on the table scanning over the papers messily sprawled over your desk when you feel a strong pair of hands at your hips.

It takes everything in you not to yelp, only for that feeling to turn into you trying not to moan when teeth nip at the shell of your ear. Knives body is pressed against your back, strong and solid, god you were either touch starved or the soulmate connection was doing wonders because he'd barley even touched you and you felt like you were unraveling. He pushes you forwards slightly forcing you to hold your most your weigh with your arms as you shudder. He's trapping you against the table, mouth trailing down to harshly nip along your throat, right hand running up your side and his left hand is moving to-

he pulls away.

You're breathless. You glance up at him, and if the amused smirk on his face is anything to go by, you look like just as much of a mess as you feel.

"I fixed your formula for you"

you glance down and sure enough...the numbers you had been mulling over all day had been fixed in the matter of...minutes? Seconds?

You watch dumbfounded as Knives strolls away as if nothing happened, even thought the blush painting your face and the bruises beginning to blossom against your neck are more than enough proof

•That's the thing, the universe never prepares you for your soulmate being an asshole. That's okay though, two can play at that game.

[yurinaa-world]

Hello! all good? I'm here again hahaha!

And here we go: how do you think vash, Wolfwood and Knives would react or interact with a reader who is a demon with humanoid appearance.

Like the reader has an energetic and playful yet somewhat chaotic, yet extremely kind-hearted personality who doesn't even seem like a profane creature.

And when it's night, the reader disappears or leaves their sight, because the reader goes out to hunt some humans to drink their blood

But when they find out about the reader's diabolical nature, he tries to show some of his demonic form, like the horns, strange marks, syrup or even a pair of wings.

And I wish there was some reference to chainsaw man, demon slayer or even helluva boss.

Characters: Vash, Nicholas, and Knives x Gentral-neutral Reader

Synopsis: them with a demon reader with a humanoid appearance

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, and mentions of blood and corpse.

Notes: I was thinking of zero two, power, or kaneki from Tokyo ghoul

𝒱𝒶𝓈𝒽 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝑜𝒾𝒹 𝒯𝓎𝓅𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓃"

He trusts you a lot; just because you're different doesn’t mean you're a monster. He doesn’t understand why people judge you for being different; they say such rude things to you or kick you out of their shop like that! ｏ( ><)o

He thinks horns and tails are super cute; whenever you're really happy, it sways. Vash is a bit awkward when it comes to physical affection, but Vash can’t help but want to touch your horns to see how they feel.

This boy is amazed by your beauty; you look as if you're out of this world to him. His gaze is filled with wonder and awe.

You know you’re meant to be when you both always somehow get into messes together, whether it’s getting chased or getting guns pointed at. At least he’s not alone; he has you now by his side.

You often surprise Vash with your strength and speed, which he finds very attractive. I just know that he trusts you whenever there is anything dangerous that you can handle yourself.

He loves that you have a habit of cuddling up against him when you're feeling particularly affectionate, wrapping your long tail around him. He’ll try to give you the same affection.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

TW mentions blood and corpses.

Vash doesn’t want to get into why you disappear during the night; after all, he trusts you a lot, but what are you doing during the night? You just come back as if nothing happened.

He felt his heart sink when he saw you with blood all over, as well as the fresh corpse you ate from; you looked different, now with wings, strange marks on your body, and the white part of your eye now black.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"What have you done?"

Looking up from the corpse, you saw Vash looking at you with those eyes—the eyes of someone who's been betrayed. "V-Vash," you mumbled, "please say you didn’t kill them." Vash begged while stepping closer to you, "I didn't think they were already dead to begin with." You looked away. "If I didn’t eat them, I would kill myself." You continued mumbling. You didn’t want him to see you in such an ugly form.

Vash grabbed and pulled you by your bloody wrist. The pull made you look him in the eyes: "You can’t be eating a corpse like this; I won't let you starve either!" He shook your arm lightly, but you didn’t reply, and he sighed. His expression softened when he said, "Let me help you." Vash takes his metal hand and wipes off the blood on your mouth, and he hugs you.

It felt wrong to you that he was hugging you like this, but you felt so happy that he did.

𝒩𝒾𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓈 𝒟 𝒲𝑜𝓁𝒻𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒫𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓇"

Nicholas is protective of you, ignoring the insults people throw at you, but when you both got kicked out of a shop, Nicholas was ready to fight the man, but you dragged him away and told him to calm down.

He thinks your horns and tail are a tiny bit cute, but he’s not going to tell you something when he feels a bit curious and teasing. He’ll grab onto your tail and tug on it; he’ll do the same to your horns.

You always banter with each other. If he tugs on your tail, then you’ll tug his hair; he curses you out for it, but it’s fair, isn’t it? He started it first after all, so he has to take responsibility!

Nicholas ruffles your hair and calls you cute nicknames like "little devil" or "my little demon."

When you both rest in a cheap motel during the afternoon, cuddling up to him and wrapping your tail around him, he would complain, which doesn’t mean he hates it, but he won’t tell you that either.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

mentions of blood and a corpse.

Nicholas is overvant person. It won't take long for him to disappear at night without explanation, then come back the next day as if nothing happened. He notices the little details, like how there's blood on your clothes

.

 When he does confront you about this whole thing, you just brush it off. He's pretty good at telling when people are lying, and you're lying through your teeth.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You grab the arm of the corpse; they were already dead to begin with, so there's nothing wrong with it. You bite into the rotting flesh and tear it in your mouth, tasting it on your tongue and enjoying the taste as the blood spurts from their arm onto the ground. You licked at your lips, feeling the salty taste of the flesh.

"So this is what you're doing at night," you think, looking up to see Nicholas with a lit cigarette in his mouth, letting off the bloody arm, feeling your heart drop—you didn't want him to look at you when you were like this. Nicholas walked toward you, got on one of his knees, rolled up his sleeve, and held his arm out in front of you.

Singling to drink blood from his arm, you were tempted, and you bit down on his skin as gently as you could so as not to hurt a lot. He let out a grunt of pain, but the fresh, warm blood tasted good before moving from his arm—the arm with bloody, sharp teeth marks.

"Next time, just ask instead of drinking blood from some corpse."

𝒩𝒶𝒾 “𝑀𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈”

He finds you rather annoying at times. How can you be energetic and playful and not get tired of it, because he sure is; you're always getting into things without really causing him to have a headache?

Doesn’t think anything of your horns or tail, but if you ask if he wants to touch them, he’ll say no, but if you keep asking, he might touch them, with a big emphasis onmight," but if he does, he’s pretty gentle, creasing them.

Doesn’t say anything when you sit beside him on the piano as he plays and you wrap your tail around his waist after he finishes his song; he just looks at you confused as you smile at him.

If you ask him to go on a walk with you, he’ll tell you to go on your own and that you're not a child. how mean. One way to make him go with you is to just keep on asking; he’ll break sooner or later!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

TW mentions blood and corpses.

He always knows, but it doesn't matter to him if humans eat; at least their bodies are good for something like being your food.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"What a sight," Knives smirked as he looked at you, eating a corpse, the blood all over your mouth and clothes. Him watching you like this was something you thought he wouldn't care about at all; it was irrelevant to him, but he seemed to enjoy it.

You feel his hand land on top of your head, almost patting it and ruffling your hair just a little bit. "You never disappoint me; you'll always be by my side." He told you as his hand moved to your chin and lifted it up, making you look at him.

"You and I will always be together."

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[nanomooselet]

Episode Three: Bright Light, Shine through the Darkness

Okay, let's try this whole meta thing.

Bright Light, Shine through the Darkness was the episode where I realised I was in some deep trouble. I was aware of Trigun, but never really got around to looking into it until this ep was airing, and the two episodes before were, how can I say, everything I'd been lead to expect? Meryl is so angry and kind and Rosa so cool, and of course to look upon Vash is to adore him, precious darling boy. But I was still waiting for the hook, the reason to continue. Episode three, then: the one where the series finally begins. It's done saluting the work of the past and pivots to the story it's here to tell.

And I had no inkling it would be a story of such deliberate, implacable terror. It opens by telling you a storm is coming, but given that in minutes people are dying by land mines and remote drones, you'd think the storm was already here. Blood splashes! Meryl nearly gets her dumb ass flattened! E.G.'s motives aren't the kind receptive to Vash's forgiveness and whoo boy, for a moment you almost believe Vash will withdraw it. But Meryl turns it around (waaah she's so brave, she and Vash and Roberto made such a good team) and it seems the next challenge will be talking the elder Nebraska out of revenge, because anyone will pick up a gun when their loved ones are killed.

Then the piano rings out, right as Nebraska demands to know whose side Vash is on. It's a haunting, wistful tune and the score fell silent for quite a while first, which makes the notes even more out-of-place. The colour has been drained, everything is shrouded with smoke, and the cinematography has shrunk to mid shots and close-ups. Vash stands there in paralysed in fear for over ten seconds. You forget, in what follows, that we were given fair warning.

Nai was present in the opening scene, and Knives stated his intentions clearly enough at the end of the first episode. We saw this fuse being lit and the detonation still comes as a surprise. Not to mention Knives's influence is felt absolutely everywhere once you know to look for it – the bounty and the threats it inevitably attracts, the military police (and boy do I have thoughts on them, but it's only the final episode that'll come back), even the environment, the insects and birds. Tonis's little cage of buddies that Vash promised he would keep safe! Nothing hasn't felt Knives's fingertips - playing, pushing, manipulating.

Vash has to accept at the end of the episode that there was no longer any way he could avoid facing his brother, not if he wanted the people around him to be safe. While I don't think Knives was out to get Vash on this particular trip, I think he's just fine with Vash believing that's why he was there. Let him think it really is his presence, his “bad luck” that led to this destruction.

It's at least consolation to know Gofsef and his father are still alive at the end, though they're not in the best shape. I missed it the first time. But my God, poor Rosa. Poor Tonis. We never get that manga bit where Vash explains that if he took a life, Rem would never forgive him, but we don't really need to after that.

And when it took time out of Vash's self recriminating angst to show us Meryl also feels responsible, I sat up. She'd been so directly driving the plot so far, but I hardly dared hope for more. It was oddly reassuring.

All in all, fantastic episode, and I haven't even talked about the strongest portions. I hope everyone who worked on it is proud of themselves. I couldn't have asked for better. I'll close on what might have been my favourite moment (and by that I mean for me the most emotionally devastating): Vash crying as he flees the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, pulling blood-spattered Rosa after him.

[tenabrye]

Can you do proposing request for stampede Vash and Nicholas? You’re truly a god send for writing for them 😭❤️

It warms my heart that you think so. 🥹

Vash

Despite the danger that's always there to greet him around every single corner on this planet, he still has the idea of marriage swirling around in his mind. Perhaps not at the forefront, nor the very back, but it's definitely active in the middle. There were always just two tiny issues with such an idea. Firstly, he needed someone for it. Someone he could understand and who would do the same for him, someone to love and who would love him back, someone he would lay down his life for and hope that they wouldn't do the same, because as much as he loves them, it would pain him too much to see them get hurt or even die for him. The second issue was his entire aging situation. Humans don't live long, he knows that, and no human could ever live as long as he could. Knowing such a thing has, in a way, kept the idea of marriage where it's at in his head. He both loves the idea, yet is also very, very scared because he knows what would happen and he doesn't think he'll ever be ready for when it does.

Then you came along. He was IMMEDIATELY smitten. How could he not be? Such a sweet smile, an infectious laugh, and it was like you understood him as though you knew him your entire life. You were the light in his life, the one he was truly able to be comfortable with, the first one to ever see his scars, and the first one whom he believed he could spend his life with. That is, if you would have him, but this resulted in him plotting, and scheming, trying to figure out a way on how to even ask such a question to you. It was two and a half years that you've known one another. Was that a long enough time before asking for your hand in marriage? He's seen couples elope after just two days of knowing one another, so perhaps his timing was a little late, but he was cautious.

This man knows nothing about the actual concept of marriage, but he's seen other men propose and he thinks he has an understanding on how he should do it. He thinks. He inquires about it with Roberto, who recalls certain times he's heard the men back at his office talk about how they proposed. It helped Vash to a degree, but he felt like he was still missing something. Inquiring about it to Wolfwood also seemed like a good idea, but all the advice that was given was, "It doesn't have to be over the top, Needle-noggin, and you don't need any ideas on how to do it. It comes naturally." Vash hadn't thought about it, but the man was right. Perhaps he should just let the thoughts come naturally rather than wracking his brain on how to plan it out. He doesn't have much when it comes to double dollars, but he figures that a flashy ring might be considered over the top, as Wolfwood said before.

Vash does set the moment, though. Makes sure it's romantic enough for the question he's about to ask. He's nervous for sure, but the reassuring touch of your hand intertwining with his as he leads you to the rooftop is enough to calm his nerves. He tried his best with sprucing everything up for you, lips curling upwards when he catches that smile of yours, and how it makes it heart flutter. Only when you lock eyes with him does he get nervous, again, causing him to close his eyes and softly inhale. You question the way he's acting, knowing that he hasn't been himself for the past couple of days, to which he smiles, saying how there's a reason for that. He takes your other hand with his cybernetic one, the thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. He stares down at you, eyes half-lidden and clouded with adoration as the smile on his face broadens ever so slightly. You can't help but chuckle at how adorable he looks right now, only to widen your eyes when he takes a knee, his hands still holding yours.

"Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. No matter what I go through, no matter how down I get, you're always there to pick me back up, and I can't be thankful enough for that. I've thought long and hard about this, but I know I want you in my life, forever. I never consider myself lucky until you came along. So, will you make me the luckiest man by marrying me?"

Wolfwood

Marriage was something he didn't think much of at first, considering his occupation, however, meeting you has caused him to dwell on the topic for quite a while. More than he would like to admit. He never considered himself as much of the marrying type in the beginning, but he has changed a bit over the time he's travelled alongside you, the two of you becoming an item not long after a near-death moment. He knows you've entertained the thought of marriage, and he can't deny that he'd like seeing you all dressed up like that. The man also can't deny the fear that comes with it. Well, the fear of what might happen to you if you marry a man like him.

His business often ends up with a few bodies here and there, and while he never leaves any survivors, sometimes, those that do somehow make it out alive may come back for revenge. The man doesn't want you on the receiving end of it, however, at the same time, he's made up his mind to marry you. Slapping a ring on your finger could also ensure your safety, as well as letting anyone that sees it know that you're his spouse. He likes the sound of that latter part. Now, all that's left it to plan the entire thing. Does he want it to be lavish? Simple? He knows he wants the scene to be romantic, but he just can't quite figure out the missing piece to tie it all together.

He is very discreet when it comes to asking you certain questions that will help him with the proposal. Very discreet, but now he has the information he needs when getting everything ready. Nicolas surprises himself with how much effort he's put into this, but it's also what he wants, considering this effort will show how much he desires to be with you for the rest of his life. His entire plan consists of having a date that includes doing whatever your heart desires, followed by a special surprise from him at the end. You're absolutely giddy when he tells you why tonight is special, obviously not including the proposal part, but still, he can see you can't wait for later. Neither can he.

Nicholas is nervous the closer his surprise gets the more the night carries on. He shouldn't be nervous, really, but he can't help it. Starts thinking about the chances of you declining his proposal and it stays on his mind the remainder of the date. It's very difficult to not notice the strange way he's been acting the last few hours before your big surprise, and you want to know why. Asking about it gets you nowhere since he tells you not to worry, that nothing is wrong, but you can see that something is. That's when he decides to fuck it and do it right here right now. His cigarette has been removed, flicked to the ground and crushed by his heel. He then takes your left hand with his, getting down on one knee as the other hand fishes in his pocket for the small box. You can't help but stare at him, eyes wide in shock.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to do something like this, but then you came along and changed that entirely. You are the best thing to ever happen in my life, y'know, and I don't think I could ever live a single day without you. I want to live my entire life with you at my side, so please, will you marry me?"

[shintin]

Gunpowder Dreams

Chapter 5 (Glory-Hole)

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

They didn't know a wounded man would show no mercy when they took the best thing he ever had away from him. What did they say? Don't poke the dragon if you can't take the heat; if you do, expect the flames.

Genre: explicit smut, toxic relation, romance, angst (Mafia au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, sexual situations, dub-con, graphic violence, gore, angst, toxicity, gun-play, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, too many smut scenes, emotional trauma, and etc.

Song Recommendation: Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang

Note: This one has dub-con.

Chapter Index - Next Chapter

"I can save you."

Something shook you, inflicting waves of pain that pierced your consciousness.

"Wake up; I can save you."

The voice cut through the dense fog swirling within your mind. Blackness surrounded you, and it felt like you were adrift in a galaxy devoid of stars while an icy chill crept through your body, serving as a foreboding sign of imminent peril.

A hand firmly grasped your arm, administering another rough jolt.

"There's not much time left. I need you to wake up. I'll help you."

A slender beam of light pierced through the unending darkness of the room, creating a fissure. Your attention was fixated on the light while someone persisted in shaking your body, causing the crack to widen until a dazzling radiance seared through your eyes.

Fucking flashlight!

You let out a groan as a faint glimmer of understanding slowly surfaced. The firm grip on your arm tightened, and the voice urging you to awaken amplified. Once more, you were vigorously shaken, and the harsh movement finally jerked you into full wakefulness. Your eyes flew open, and although the reason was still unclear, your heart was beating out of your chest, pounding against your rib cage with the same intensity as the person shaking you.

The features of an elderly, weathered face with dull blue eyes behind black-framed glasses came into focus, only a few inches away from yours.

Startled, you instinctively recoiled, blinking at him with frenzy and bewilderment. "What's going on?" you choked out. The reality hit you like a thunderbolt in seconds, and you were swiftly reminded of the man's identity. After the ordeal of being kidnapped and enduring a brutal beating from Knives, he tended to your injuries and provided care.

Doctor William Conrad. The man who was currently in your face, staring at you with urgency.

"I'm going to help you. Please, get up."

The spine-tingling fear seeped through the haze and grew more intense as his hand seized yours and forcefully yanked you forward. A startled yelp escaped your lips in immediate reaction.

"I know you don't know me enough, sweetheart, but we must hurry before Vash returns."

With a gentle tug, Conrad pulled you once again, and you noticed the locked door of your room wide open. How had this man sneaked past the armed men and reached you? Was this another mind game orchestrated by that pervert Vash? Yes, pervert. The memory of how he had pressed his every sinew against you a few days ago was still fresh in your mind, and you wanted to rip off your traitorous skin for finding his warmth pleasant. The guilt of enjoying the proximity of a freak who had kidnapped you due to your father killing his partner—Nicholas, who happened to be a man—weighed heavily. A man, you idiot! He was interested in men!

You berated yourself for being foolish, as he likely felt nothing while pinning you against a wall and leering at your cleavage. And wait! The situation grows even more fucked up because, somehow, the fact that he didn't become aroused bothered you more than being trapped within his limbs.

WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING ABOUT HIM IN A SITUATION LIKE THIS?

Oh, deities! These feelings of yours had no logical justification, aside from the possibility that prolonged isolation and lack of sunlight had shrunk your brain or perhaps your subconscious harbored a cunning scheme. Because, just maybe, if you could entice him... there might be a chance...?

For fuck's sake!

You and your female body offered no advantage in this war. Ugh! Since when had you sunk to such levels of degradation? No wonder self-revulsion coursed through you. Sure, you weren't exactly spoiled for choices, but seriously! Attempting to seduce your kidnapper to find a way out? Had you truly lost your mind?

"Hurry up, sweetheart."

You resisted, and in an effort to stall, you asked, "H-how did you pass the guards?"

"I'm their family doctor. Now get up, please."

Leaving you with no other choice, he hoisted you up, hastening your progress while making an effort to maintain silence.

"Where are we going?" You were nearly frantic, and confusion was muddling your thoughts. Mainly, you couldn't figure out why the hell he was helping you. Wasn't he also involved with the Mafia?

It was then he looked at you, wearing a deranged smile. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe. No one will ever find you, I promise."

A lump lodged in your throat, and you struggled to swallow as the gravity of your situation grew increasingly apparent. No one would ever find you. While he might be rescuing you from Vash and his unhinged brother, it didn't guarantee that you wouldn't require saving from him either.

"Why are you doing this?" You breathed, your gaze darting around the basement, desperately seeking a way out of this dire predicament. There appeared to be only one visible exit, and he was guiding you directly toward it. For all you knew, he would lock you in a box and feed you through a glory hole. The image disturbed you so profoundly that you thought you'd rather take chances with twins instead.

"I became a doctor because I genuinely enjoy caring for people. But the hospitals never let me care for my patients the way I want."

Your heart dropped, and he peered at you with an unassuming innocence like a little boy admitting his crush to the prettiest girl in elementary school. His hand slipped into yours, holding it as though he were on the verge of kneeling down and proposing marriage. A frosty sensation embedded beneath your flesh, burrowing deep like a parasite. His hand was damp with sweat, but all you could feel was ice. This man… he was evil. Touching him felt akin to making contact with a dead body. You wanted to slide your hand from his and wipe it against the fabric of your t-shirt.

"I want to take care of you, sweetie. I-I'll treat you better than these people ever will. I promise I'll be good to you."

Your mouth opened, but no sound escaped. The fuck did he expect you to say to that? Yes, please, whisk me away to your creepy lair. Nothing would make me happier?

You wanted him to let you be free, not into the arms of another creep that would trap you for the rest of your life.

Stepping backward cautiously, you gingerly pried your hand from his grasp. His expression fell, and a wounded look flickered across his pale blue eyes as he watched your fingers slipping away from his. He reacted like he had bent down on one knee, and you had just declined his proposal.

"I-I'm not sure that's a good idea. If you do this, he'll know it was you," you cautiously voiced, attempting to reason with him. You didn't want to reject him flat out. His mental state seemed unstable at best, and you had no inkling of the true capabilities of this man.

Shaking his head, he snatched your hand angrily and pulled you forcefully. You suppressed a cry as he impatiently explained, " If we hurry, he won't suspect a thing. I have a plan; I just need you to come with me."

When he continued to drag you after him, your instincts to resist surged within you. Pain be damned, you snatched your hand out of his hold and scrambled backward. "No, I don't want to go with you," you snapped. His face morphed into a snarling demon, and the coldness radiating from him crystallized. This man was dead on the inside. He resembled nothing more than a rigid, decaying corpse.

You felt the burst of pain lancing across your cheek before you registered him moving. Your head whipped to the side, and fire erupted on the side of your face. Gasping, your mouth popped open as you instinctively clasped your stinging cheek, feeling something wet coat your fingers.

Pulling your hand away, you found several drops of blood tainting your skin. He backhanded you with a fucking ring on. A wedding ring. A mix of disgust and anger churned in your stomach, but you kept your mouth shut.

This had become exceedingly precarious, and you no longer had the luxury of doing or saying whatever the hell you wanted without severe consequences. And as much as you were tempted to throw down with the old fart, you weren't sure if he was armed or not.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Think.

His breath came in heavy, ragged gasps, and his ruddy face displayed clear signs of fury. It felt as if you were gazing into the eyes of a fucking zombie, animated solely by the malevolence dwelling within. "I would lavish you with the treatment of a queen. You would want for nothing," he spat vehemently, slashing a hand through the air as he emphasized his final word.

You nodded your head. "Okay," you placated gently. "But you're scaring me just as much as they do."

His posture straightened, and you observed the anger drain from his gaze like it just now dawned on him that he was acting like a goddamn lunatic. So quickly, his face shifted from a state of hysteria to one of sheepish understanding. "You're right; I'm sorry," he acknowledged, stepping forward. "I'm just… if I'm going to get you out safely, we need to hurry, and it seems you're not cooperating." You tensed but refrained from retreating as he apologetically grabbed your hands. "I'm sorry I slapped you, my dear. I'm just trying to help you. Please, come with me. I promise you'll be happy with me."

The panic and surge of adrenaline reached perilous heights, causing your heart to thump painfully against your chest. It was fucking hard to concentrate when he was staring at you so eagerly, and your entire body felt like it had been mercilessly tossed through a fucking grinder. However, amidst this chaos, there lay a potential opportunity to escape if you played your cards right. You needed to get out with as minimal noise as possible without alerting the terror twins, which left you with two options: hit this clown over the head and flee or let him take you along while seeking an alternative way out. Regardless, one thing remained certain—you were not staying here.

"Okay," you whispered, wheezing in a breath through your constricted lungs. When he noticed your visible relaxation, he quickly followed suit, victory sparking in his icy pools.

Taking hold of your hand once more, he guided you towards the metallic doors, creating a cacophony of clattering sounds. Suppressing any resistance, you trailed behind him through the corridor, shutting the door behind you. He led you directly to the staircase, urging you to keep your steps light as your legs propelled you at an alarming pace. Halfway down, you teetered precariously, nearly colliding with a potted plant. Grasping and holding to the railing, you managed to steady yourself and stifle any loud squeak that threatened to escape. You felt like throwing up, the adrenaline and fear intense and biting at your nerves.

Taking a left turn, the two of you headed towards the living room but swiftly veered into the nearest door upon hearing heavy footsteps approaching from above. Locking eyes with the doctor, your heart raced impossibly faster, and your hands quivered violently as you entered the room.

Casting a glance around, a shiver ran through you, induced by the cold and darkness of the place. The entire room was saturated with shades of gray, lacking vibrancy or vitality. The light fixtures suspended above emitted a disconcerting hum, their surfaces tarnished by layers of dust and the remnants of deceased insects. There was an undeniable absence of anything that could breathe life into this place.

On the wall, a framed picture caught your attention. It depicted a woman with flowing black hair standing alongside two blond boys. Squinting your eyes against the dim light, you studied their features, trying to determine which one was Vash based on their overall appearance.

Goodness, could this be their mother? Surveying the room, you took note of the bed, the sizable bookshelf, the wardrobe, and the dressing table. Evidently, this was her personal space, and it appeared untouched since her passing.

Instead of a typical bedroom, the room gave off an eerie, haunted vibe. The thought of meeting your demise in this space was dreadful, even though it appeared that she had, since the air carried reminiscent of death itself.

As you moved past a table cluttered with empty flower vases, some broken, a dangerous thought crossed your mind. If you could grab one of those shattered fragments and strike him in the jugular, he would be silenced, succumbing to death within minutes. With that threat eliminated, you could seize the opportunity to escape. You weren't entirely sure of your plan beyond that point, but there would hopefully be somewhere you could find help.

With one quick glance, you noted that his unwavering gaze fixed straight ahead, intent on his mission to take you for his own. You grasped a sharp shard from the table. However, as you approached to strike, he detected your presence and turned just as you aimed for his neck. The shard sliced across his nape instead, deviating from your intended target.

Blood spurted onto your face, and you turned away, trying to shield your eyes from the crimson spray. Amid his screams, he retaliated by delivering another forceful backhand, launching you to collide with the unforgiving ground. You landed awkwardly on your spine and yelped from the impact. The agony radiated through your body, momentarily stealing your breath away, and he was on you before you could think of what to do next, let alone breathe.

"You bitch!" he bellowed as his hands tightened around your throat, forcefully slamming your head against the wooden parquet. Stars exploded in your eyes, preventing you from seeing anything for several seconds. It felt as if the back of your head had been cracked open, but the hands constricting your windpipe jolted you out of the abyss of torment.

Panic took over, so intense it felt like acid in your veins. With sheer desperation, you clawed at his hands, the force behind your actions leaving behind a trail of bloody scratches in their wake, but they didn't deter him.

Conrad's face was contorted into a pure rage, his pupils dilated until they were nearly black, and his teeth bared, every single yellow, crooked tooth on display. You thrashed and fought, but his grip remained unyielding. And it was then that your life played out before your eyes, flickering like scenes from an old movie reel.

Your mother bestowing upon you one of her sweet smiles whenever you uttered something ridiculous. Amelia, her head thrown back in uproarious laughter at something you said or did, revealing the endearing gap between her front teeth—a feature she despised but you cherished. The various lovers came and went, each with their own flaws, some more egregious than others. And then there was Vash, the fucking wrecking ball of a man who had led you into this inferno of searing flames, reducing you to mere ashes beneath its weight.

You should have …

As darkness overtook your vision, leaving only a faint glimmer of light, Conrad's grip on you suddenly loosened, and something wet and warm flooded over your face. With a desperate gasp, you opened your mouth, urgently drawing in a breath as your lungs expanded. The taste of copper flooded your tongue, and you inhaled so deep that your eyes bulged from their sockets. It took a few moments to register the shocking discovery that only half of Conrad's head remained suspended above you, a mere second before his lifeless body collapsed onto yours.

Your throat became a warzone, where coughing and a gurgled scream fought for dominance over your throat. Impossibly wide, your eyes beheld the grotesque sight of the doctor's disfigured head now resting upon your shoulder while a pool of crimson slowly seeped into your clothes. The constant coughing fit continued to wrack your body, causing near-convulsions as a swirl of emotions overwhelmed you. Trapped beneath the weight of a corpse, blood trickling into your mouth, you grappled with the horror of the situation. More of his brain matter clung to you than remained within his own exploded skull.

The fragrance reached your nostrils before its owner emerged. The distinct scent of leather permeated the air, accompanied by a subtle hint of smoke. Yet, there was something else mixed within, an aroma so stifling that it would typically prompt an eye-roll if it weren't so oppressively suffocating.

"Stop freaking out. You're fine." Vash's figure bent over you, staring down at you with annoyance and a tinge of anger. "Get used to the sight of dead bodies, love. Looks like you'll encounter plenty every time you attempt to escape."

Grabbing the scruff of Conrad's collar, he yanked him up and suspended him over your face again. An additional deluge of bodily fluids and cerebral fragments cascaded over you. Barely closing your eyes in just enough time, you used your hands as a barrier as Vash laughed and wrenched the body off of you, dragging it toward the corner.

Finally, the pressure eased, and you were able to breathe without coughing, but then a low whimper leaked past your lips. Your body instinctively curled inward, coiling into a tight ball, trying not to think about how blood was in your mouth yet thinking of nothing else.

You gagged, your stomach revolting from the thought. Abruptly, a forceful nudge against your shoulder interrupted the retching, momentarily halting your distress. His boot. Angry at the insult, you proceeded to spit on it, pure red splashing on the black leather. Two birds with one stone—a fuck you to Vash and an attempt to rid your mouth of Conrad's blood.

Vash seemed unfazed by the act, though. "You're going to be fine. Our Doc was trying to kidnap you," he remarked in a nonchalant manner.

"Just as you did. So, you're saying you deserve the same fate, right?" you hissed, your body beginning to go into shock. You trembled violently while a creeping numbness ran up your arms and legs, gradually enveloping them.

Stay calm.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

As Vash's laughter filled the air, you clenched your eyes shut and worked not to freak the fuck out. His presence closed in on you. You knew that he'd crouched down, hovering above you. A warm breath grazed your ear, accompanied by the persistent sound of his chuckles.

"You have a smart mouth on you, but it's not so smart in this world. My advice? Dumb it down until the only words you can speak is 'Yes, Vash.' That way, you'll last much longer."

A solitary tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek, while a stifled sob threatened to rise from deep within your throat. "Isn't that what I'd want? To not last long? Better than suffering forever, right?"

He sighed wistfully. "You're right. You're going to die here anyway. I guess it's not a matter of how long you last but how bad it hurts when it's over," he murmured, infusing his words with a somber reflection.

Your trembling lip betrayed your emotional state. Vash let out another sigh, his tone tinged with renewed frustration. "Come on, get up. There's work to be done since you're so eager to die," he commanded, his impatience evident. Rising to his feet, he took a few steps away before glancing back in your direction, expecting you to follow his lead.

In a dazed state, you mustered the strength to sit up. The pain began to resettle in your bones, asserting its presence once more. "Can I at least take a shower first?"

There must be something deeply awry within you to pose such a question. However, if faced with the prospect of death, you would prefer to be drenched in your own blood rather than that of another wretched soul.

Vash's gaze scanned your body, stained with the color of blood, and a grin stretched across his face. "Of course, love. You may shower. I find it more satisfying to discipline a clean brat than one drenched in disobedience."

Fuck.

*

Having him join you in the shower would undeniably be a more bearable scenario than the alternative — being commanded to draw back the curtain and wash yourself. At the same time, he sat on the toilet seat, legs crossed, wholly engrossed in his precious gun. Neither you nor your bewildered mind could comprehend why you entertained the thought of his gaze fixated on your ass when it was evident that he derived greater joy from counting his dear bullets rather than observing a woman drenched in the remains of a deceased man.

Still, you maintained your back turned to him as the rivulets of blood cascaded down your skin, and you nearly puked with the sight of bone fragments and chunks swirling towards the drain.

Already drowned in the piles of troubles that seemed like you couldn't stay away from, you focused on avoiding thoughts of the impending torment awaiting you.Undoubtedly, he possessed an entrepreneurial spirit when it came to devising novel methods to unsettle and disturb you. However, deep down, you harbored the knowledge that whatever pain he had in store would not be lethal. As the maniac had emphasized, he required you alive to provoke your father—an ironic twist of fate indeed.

One thing was clear: this bastard would not permit you to escape unpunished. However, despite the fear of the unknown, it didn't deter you from vigorously scrubbing your skin with whatever shampoo and bar of soap you could find long after cleaning the blood. These seemingly innocuous acts of self-harm served as a means for you to assert control over your body when everything else in your life seemed beyond your grasp. Perhaps, in some way, you hoped that these toiletries could cleanse your physical being and eradicate the weight within, leaving you hollow and devoid of any feeling.

With a fleeting glance, you observed him from the corner of your eye. Resting upon the fucking toilet seat, he exuded elegance adorned in a meticulously tailored ensemble of crisp black garments. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing glimpses of tattoos on his neck and chest. Yet, amidst his immaculate appearance, a striking and irregular gash marred the center of his chest, adding a mysterious element to his otherwise impeccable appearance.

Your eyes settled upon his deceptively innocent countenance: his big, droopy eyes, soft spiked hair, and pale pink lips, and something stirred within you, a fleeting spark that caused a subtle flush to grace your cheeks. However, swiftly averting your gaze, you turned your head away.

While you diligently washed and rinsed your hair, making an effort not to bend too far over, you couldn't help but notice him reclining with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched you intently, a mischievous amusement gleaming in his eyes, like someone enjoying himself in a private, dirty dance at an exclusive strip club. You couldn't deny a part of you relished the attention, though a twinge of shame accompanied the awareness. Shame on you, you attention whore!

You shuddered as you shut off the faucet and noticed how quickly he rose from his seat, snatching your towel from the hanger before approaching you. Instinctively, your hands moved to shield your breasts and front, only to be met with his chuckles. "I thought I made it clear that your nipples don't interest me, love," he remarked, and you noticed his gaze lingering momentarily on your chest before he tilted his head. "Although I must admit, they are rather captivating." A twinkle gleamed in his eyes as he playfully winked, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

Your eyes widened, momentarily frozen in surprise, as you registered what he had just said. Clutching yourself tighter, your cheeks flushed with embracement and anger. And then, to your surprise, with great care, Vash carefully unfurled the towel and held it out, creating a soft and protective cocoon within his hands. A mixture of emotions danced across your face — astonishment, repulsion, and a touch of defenselessness.

As Vash waited, your heart thudded in your chest, the rhythm quickening like that of a wounded animal wary of any display of affection. It was there. The situation's intimate nature heightening the electric current of awareness. Your gaze oscillated uncertainly between his eyes and the towel he held, your mind struggling to make sense of the sudden turn of events.

He nodded in acknowledgment, and with a subtle tremor in your hands, you slowly lifted your arms, yielding to his guidance as he threaded them through the openings of the towel. Your body briefly tensed, a wave of vulnerability sweeping over you as you felt the tenderness of his touch. It was as if the act of being helped and cared for by him had momentarily stripped away your self-assuredness.

In that instant, you became keenly attuned to his closeness, his mere presence, and an unspoken connection that seemed to materialize between you. Your breath caught in your throat as his hands lingered longer than necessary while his eyes met yours. For a suspended moment, time stood still. Then, his gaze settled upon your scars, jolting you back to reality, causing you to cringe and retreat from the depths of what you were about to get drowned.

Having seen that, Vash took a step back, allowing you space to adjust the towel to your desired comfort. While tying the robe, you found yourself momentarily dumbfounded, your voice stifled by a flicker of something deeper that had emerged—a burgeoning sense of familiarity.

Now, perched on the edge of your bed, your damp hair clung to your forehead and neck, mirroring the weight of the tumultuous emotions that had stuck themselves in your throat. The usual vibrancy of your eyes had dimmed, eclipsed by the shadows of stress and fear that cast over your face. Each passing second stretched into an agonizing eternity as you anxiously awaited his verdict on your punishment. Your hands trembled, restless, as they fidgeted in your lap while beads of nervous sweat formed on your brow.

In stark contrast, Vash appeared undisturbed, radiating an aura of tranquility. The asshole simply stood there, casually observing the pipes that snaked around the room. His gaze remained fixed upon them as though these seemingly mundane serpents possessed an inexplicable allure, as if they were the most mesmerizing objects in existence.

A flurry of unsettling thoughts passed through your mind, each more distressing than the last. What the fuck he wanted to do to you? The uncertainty gnawed at your insides, coiling into a tense knot in the pit of your stomach. Your heartbeat accelerated, hammering in your ears like an unyielding drumbeat, overpowering all other sounds.

The walls seemed to inch closer as time ticked, closing in on your lungs. You stole furtive glances at him, but his unreadable demeanor only heightened your anxiety, leaving you even more unsettled.

Your breaths grew shallow, coming in gasps, as Vash's focus shifted from the pipes to your worried face. A sly grin stealthily spread across his lips. That bastard! His eyes, brimming with mischief, bore into you, further heightening your fear. With a mocking tone, he uttered words that sent a chill down your spine: "Don't worry, love. We're just going to play a game."

Every syllable that escaped his lips reverberated through you, fueling the restlessness within you, like ants in your pants stoked by a raging fire. And then, it happened again. You found yourself feeling like helpless prey ensnared in a cage with a feral predator, incapable of evading the imminent threat that lurked within the confines of the room.

Your words, against your will, spilled out in fragmented stutters as you inquired, "Wh-What sort of game?" Your eyes were wide and unblinking, just like the mounting unease welling up within you.

A wicked smile crept across Vash's lips as he responded, "One of my favs." Evil oozed from his tone, further fueling your apprehension. Nasty motherfucker!

With a deliberate purpose, he closed the distance, settling beside you on the bed. Instinctively, you shifted away, creating a physical space between you, as if this small act could protect you from the blond menace.

However, the devil would not relent until he was sure you were firmly ensconced in the depths of his hell. Drawing nearer, his presence loomed over you, so close that you could feel his breath caressing your cheek. In response, you tightly shut your eyes, desperately attempting to suppress the urge to bite down on your quivering lower lip.

"Russian Roulette," he proclaimed, his voice calm yet brimming with a disturbing thrill. The words bleak like a macabre specter.

Your heartbeats raced with each other, your mind reeling with dread. Vivid visions of a lethal game flickered before your eyes, each one hauntingly distinct. With a trembling hand, you instinctively grasped at the fabric of your towel.

Summoning your bravery, you looked at Vash with a blend of fear and defiance coursing through your veins. "No," you murmured, your voice a whispered declaration. Despite the tremors coursing through you, your tone resonated with unwavering resolve. "I won't participate in your fucking game."

Vash erupted into laughter, his voice echoing in the nearly empty room and darting back to you even more powerfully. His eyes narrowed, the delight maintaining as he registered your resistance. But a creepy grin soon returned to his face, revealing his true sadistic personality

. "Oh, my naïve love," he sneered. " You misunderstand. You have no say in the matter. The game has already begun."

Perfect! A ruthless man entangled you in a dangerous game.

Vash's fingers coiled around the leather grip of his holster. In one swift, well-rehearsed motion, he extracted his colt from its dormant position and clicked the metallic hammer.

"See this, love?" Vash's voice was low and steady. "This here colt of mine, she's a beauty. And she's got six rounds in her chamber."

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved several bullets, presenting his open palm to you. "But as you can observe," Vash continued, his voice laden with a subtle taunt, "we only have five bullets. That means one round remains in the firearm." Paying no mind to your horrified expression, he casually returned the bullets to his pocket. Tilting his head, he stared at your frightened face, moistening his lips with his tongue, a contented smile playing across his mouth. "The rules are simple," he declared, picking up his colt, rotating the cylinder, and disengaging the safety catch. "We shall take turns firing."

Your terror peaked when you witnessed him placing the barrel of the gun against his own temple. Your heart throbbed relentlessly in your chest as though it could burst through your ribcage. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you held your breath, your eyes locked onto the terrifying sight before you.

With a firm hand, he pulled the trigger.

Click.

The ringing noise was meant to valse across the room, but it was drowned out by your own piercing screams. You tightly shut your eyes, and your entire body trembled uncontrollably. Too much—far too much. This shit was unbearable. Fuck it.

His hand made contact with your neck, and your eyes snapped wide open.

A genuine smile adorned his face. "I must say, I'm deeply flattered. I didn't know you cared about me this much," he mocked, but his smile twisted into a sinister one as he extended the gun toward you. Shaking your head, you moved your hands behind your back, signaling your refusal to accept it. However, he grabbed your arm, pulled it forward, and firmly deposited the frigid metal into your palm.

"Rules are rules, love. I can't make an exception," he stated, tilting his head to gaze at you—your eyes filled with tears, your lips trembling, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. With a gulp, you shifted your gaze from the gun to his face.

"What? You thought just because I said I want to keep you alive, I'll ignore your disobedience?" he said and chuckled. "I told you not to cause trouble, yet you proceeded to do the exact opposite. You have disappointed me. While I may be a kind-hearted man, my patience, like anyone else's, has limits, and you pushed too many buttons at once."

"I-I didn't have a choice. The doctor, he... he forced me," you stammered, despising yourself for stuttering in front of this monstrous being, but you didn't care about your dignity as long as you could live long enough to have a chance to survive in this madhouse.

"Love," he murmured, his fingers caressing your neck, encased in black gloves that always hid his hands. The leather seared against your skin. "Let's not undermine my intelligence. If you truly didn't want to comply, you could have screamed, and someone would have come to your aid. After all, Conrad was not even armed. So, please, do not spoil the fun and continue playing along."

A frigid shiver coursed through your column as the shock settled in. Then remembering what he did to Elendira left you with no option but to participate. Reluctantly, your trembling fingers made contact with the pistol's chilling surface as you held it. The weight of your decision pressed down upon you as if the entire world had shifted onto your fragile shoulders.

Casting a final glance at him, you beseeched him with your eyes, silently begging for mercy as he withdrew. Yet, his gaze held no trace of compassion, only a twisted sense of gratification. Uncontrollably shaking, you held the gun up to your temple with a heavy heart.

In that haunting moment, you closed your eyes, uttered a whispered prayer, and pulled the trigger. The room descended into a deafening silence, broken only by the stark knowledge that you, too, had survived. Yet, this fragile triumph couldn't prevent the shattering of your composure. Overwhelmed by relief and emotional exhaustion, tears welled up in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks.

A ghastly grin stretched across the corners of Vash's lips as he invaded your personal space once more. Masking his true intentions with a sham display of concern, he extended his hand in an attempt to offer solace. However, as his touch made contact with your skin, involuntarily, you pulled away, your tears mingling with fear and disgust. His facade was transparent; you could recognize his attempts to exploit your vulnerability.

Vash's voice permeated the room, tinged with a sickly sweet tone. "There, there," he murmured, his words oozing with insincere empathy. " It's alright, love. You're safe, at least for the time being."

Your sobs shattered the air, a poignant expression of your struggle to fathom the extent of his cruelty. The tears served as more than just an indication of fear; they were also a cathartic release of anger, frustration, and an urgent plea for freedom. Keep your shits together, girl!

A wicked gleam glowed in Vash's eyes as he carried on with his bizarre act. "To motivate you, if I happen to die today, my men will set you free without hesitation. So, let's not stop now, shall we?" he coaxed, his voice dripping with a corrupted charm. "It is my turn once more. May your fervent prayers come to fruition, and I meet my demise, for otherwise, you shall endure yet another round."

He and his mocking priest tone.

You wouldn't be upset at all if his brain splattered onto you and necessitated yet another shower.

Without any pause or second-guessing, Vash brazenly pressed the gun against his own temple, and with a self-assured smirk, he pulled the trigger, his eyes twitching with a disturbing sense of fulfillment.

Nothing.

No fucking thing.

Watching in the eerie silence, your heart sank with disbelief, disappointment, and a glimmer of lost hope. As much as you had hoped for a different outcome, a chance for freedom from this torment, it eluded you yet again.

With each passing moment, Vash's smug expression grew more pronounced, his gaze fixated on yours, savoring your anguish. You comprehended that your turn had resurfaced, and despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, an ember of determination ignited within your heart. Something shifted within you. This bastard may not have a plan to die tonight, but he could do nothing to stop you.

You embraced a newfound acceptance of your fate in a departure from resistance or yielding to fear. Surrendering to the Lady Death, you positioned the weapon against your forehead and quickly squeezed the trigger.

Nothing.

Again.

No.

Why?

A hushed silence permeated the room, and within its depths, a wave of hope surged through you. Like a delicate seed of possibility, it found its place within your heart, taking root and blossoming.

You survived. Once more, you dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, you had been granted a chance to turn the tables on your tormentor. If it wasn't you, then it could very well be him. Your spirit, once dampened, now flourished with a sense of supremacy.

"Happiness suits you," Vash said, extending his hand to retrieve the gun. "Your smile reaches your eyes."

He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. You knew. Shitweasel!

"Go to hell!" you spat, devoid of any shred of compassion in your words.

"Stone cold, love. Stone cold," Vash retorted, his tone mockery. "You're breaking my heart."

"Monsters don't have a heart!" you exclaimed and had to ball your fists to control the thrills tripping your heart. You were almost too distracted by the anger to understand the significance of what you were saying.

"Is that so?" Vash responded, unwavering in his gaze, as he pressed the gun against his own throat.

Fire.

You watched in horror and disbelief how the room fell into oppressive silence. The gun had clicked empty five times already, a grim reminder that the bullet in the chamber was reserved for you.

You felt your body tensing, your breath catching in your throat as a wave of paralyzing fear swept over you. Your condition jolted you to your core like a physical blow. Standing on the edge of death, every fiber of your being screamed in terror. The line between life and death blurred, and you found yourself teetering on the edge of an unfathomable abyss.

Vash lowered the gun and shrugged. "Look what happened, love. Maybe your little Gods have abandoned you too," Laughing sickeningly, he said. You felt nauseated as each repulsive word seeped into your ears. When your own father abandoned you, telling these truths face-to-face was cruel, even for someone like him. You had to fight back tears because you knew that no matter how much he hurt you, he would never understand the magnitude of the pain he had caused. You wouldn't satisfy him. Not anymore.

Driven by an urgent desire to end this fucking misery, your trembling hands reached out, desperate to seize the gun from his grip. But your attempts were thwarted as Vash's hand closed around yours. You looked at him with burning anger and tried to free your hand from his; the iron grip refused to release its hold. "Didn't you want to play? Now it's my turn, and I want to finish my fucking round."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to win," Vash's voice dripped with malice as he offered an ultimatum chance. " As proof that even monsters have a heart, I'll offer another option. It's up to you whether you kill yourself or I devise another punishment. But—"

Refusing to give into his vicious desires, you resolved to take matters into your own hands. It would be much better for you if you faced the gun and put an end to this torture. Nonetheless, you got hit with a fucking new rule. A nasty note reverberated from Vash's voice, a reminder of what lay ahead. "...So, choose wisely, love, because if anything happens to you, your sister will suffer the same fate."

You were overwhelmed, your mind clouded by heavy fog, and your sanity was tested. You faced a harrowing dilemma as your love for your sister was entwined with your fear. You could never bear the idea of Amelia suffering the same fate as you.

So, you were caught between self-preservation instincts and the desire to protect her. However, your choice was clear. Every time, it was clear. Your loved ones always took precedence over yourself, and Vash seemed to know how to fucking finger the shit out of your weakness.

Having loosened your grip, you lowered your head in acceptance as you surrendered yourself to the dark thoughts of the man before you.

"Mm," he chirped in delight. "Such a good girl."

You pinched your eyes shut, not even a single strand of hope threading throughout the hysteria.

He tsked. "You're very predictable, love. We're going to have to work on that."

As you sat motionless, a realization gripped you: escape from this house was an unattainable feat. He was smart, but the scariest part was your inability to anticipate a single one of his thoughts. You felt like a dumb rabbit while he, as cunning as a fox, remained one step ahead.

"You're not touching me," you hissed, your voice wobbly and rife with unshed tears.

"What you gonna do if I do?" He directed his gaze toward the ceiling and the pipes. "I'm glad it's the dead of night, and this room is almost soundproof. So, you won't disturb anyone's peaceful slumber."

Driven by instinct, fear propelled you to your feet as you hurriedly made your way to the door, frantically grasping the handle and repeatedly tugging it up and down.

Open!

Please, open!

As you wrestled with the doorknob, attempting to force it open, a sturdy steel arm suddenly encircled your waist and lifted you off the ground.

"NO!" A piercing scream erupted from your lips as you kicked futilely at the space, fiercely resisting his grip.

"Oh, yes, love," he growled, swinging your body towards the wall.

You grunted from the impact, leaning your back against the wall; this time, you used it as leverage to kick against the bastard of a man. "Let me go, you fucking creepy-ass fuck—"

"Keep talking, and you'll just make it worse."

You screeched, out of breath and growing weaker, as he pinned your flailing body against the wall, rendering you powerless.

"We had a deal, didn't we?" Vash asked in a panting tone.

A tear spilled over your lid. And then another and another until you were on the verge of sobbing again. "We had, but—"

"Don't cry, love," he cooed. "It's going to get so much worse."

His breath skated over your cheek as he pressed himself further into your body, just like in the previous encounter. Towering over you, his larger frame enveloped you completely until all you could see, feel, and smell was him—his warmth, the distinctive scent that was uniquely his, and the way his black-clad body surrounded you.

"I like you scared," he whispered, sending shivers down your core. "I like you begging and pleading. Crying out for imaginary Gods to save you."

You felt the touch of leather on your face, and you flinched away. His fingers delicately traced a path from your cheekbone to your hair, gently tucking stray strands behind your ear. "I like you trembling beneath my touch, uncontrollably."

"You're sick," you snapped, doing just that. You were shaking from head to toe, and you couldn't seem to stop it.

"You think your pleas will only arise when your life is at stake, but you are mistaken," he grunted, letting out a deep, mocking laugh. "In due time, you will beg for my touch, craving it desperately."

"That'll never happen," you hissed, glaring at him with all your might. Or at least you thought you were. The dim light emanating from the ceiling lights shadowed his eyes. It felt almost like being far-sighted. Your face was so close to something, but clarity evaded you. The shadows were a part of him. He carried them around.

"It's time to punish you, and I've thought of the many ways I could do this," he said, ignoring your jab. It only infuriated you more that he found your lack of consent so inconsequential. So… worthless. "I'll be nice this time." You opened your mouth, but he cut you off with a deep growl of warning, "But only if you reciprocate, love."

Your teeth audibly snapped together, the sound punctuating the air and drawing yet another amused grunt from him. Your pride took a hit, and you wanted to knee him in the balls for it, but you couldn't lift your leg an inch as you tried.

"You freak! What are you going to do?" you spat out, the stutter of your words in sync with the beat of your heart. His searing breath brushed against your cheek as you felt the gentle glide of his lips tracing along your jawline. You swallowed but nearly choked from how dry your throat had become. Those lips descended to the column of your neck, skittering along until he paused on the spot right below your ear.

"I'm gonna play with my toy," he declared right before his teeth clamped down. Your back arched involuntarily, repulsion and pleasure marrying in your nerves, sending misfires to your brain. All coherent thoughts escaped from your mind, leaving behind only primal instincts to guide your actions.

But, somehow, as if he was electrocuted, he distanced himself. His gaze shifted downwards towards the collar of his shirt. The cross was there, concealed on his chest. His eyes changed momentarily, remorseful, maybe disgusted by what he had become. As if he was lost, struggling to find himself, but instead, his eyes found you—the one with the answers.

You wished you could show him hatred, but seeing your pleasure, he groaned, his teeth piercing as his tongue lapped at your flesh. Your mouth opened, and a silent scream suctioned away just as his mouth did the same, drawing in deep like he was drinking the essence from your body. And then, with a lingering sensation of pain, he withdrew, his teeth grazing your skin as he released his hold, leaving behind a stinging reminder.

Your hands pressed into his chest for stability or to push him away. You were not sure. Though your question was quickly answered when instinct coerced your hands to curl, gripping his shirt tight and anchoring yourself to him as if he was your lifeline. When in reality, he was the one killing you.

Severe shivers wracked your body when he licked a wet path with his tongue, descending from your neck toward the juncture where your scars resided. He paused, and it felt like your body teetered precariously over a sharpened blade. You held your breath, the anticipation rattling your bones. And then he was biting down again, pulling an animalistic sound from your chest. He did this, over and over, leaving behind a trail of bruises that marked his territory along your neck and across your shoulder.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away. "Good girl," he finally exhaled, his own voice airy. Somehow, that made you feel worse. You wanted him to hate it as much as you should've. "You like this, don't you?"

"I…ah," you panted, trying hard to conceal the depths of your desires because you were revealing more and more as he went further. You were fucking seconds away from reaching out and grabbing his cock through his pants and begging him to fuck you since you hadn't been touched by a human for a long time, let alone a man, and this thing in front of you had the power to make you momentarily forget everything, despite being the very reason for your need to escape reality. Then something occurred to your mind.

You couldn't explain why you did what you did next. You would ask Gods later. But at that moment, you were so overcome with a tsunami of emotions that you reached up and bit his tattooed neck. Hard, and you didn't care, just bit harder. Maybe you wanted to hurt him back, give him a taste of his own medicine, make him feel whatever you felt.

Regardless of the reason, he didn't take kindly to it. His hand wrapped around your throat, exerting pressure as he forcefully pushed you back, simultaneously tearing himself away from your body. He was squeezing tightly, but you couldn't care less. You felt justified. If he killed you here and now, at least you could say you left one last mark on him.

He growled low, a sound of frustration and an unnamed emotion that eluded definition. "I'm beginning to think you like to be punished, which means I'm just going to have to do better."

Before you could react, he hoisted you up, effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Fucker!" you snapped, your fists pounding against his back as you thrashed your exposed legs. You were not a potato.

A sharp smack to your ass was his only response. "Love, the wind can do more harm than what you're doing."

"Want to see my teeth again, asshole? I'll sure to grab your ugly face this time."

"Keep telling yourself that, but deep down, we both know you can't resist stealing glances at this face," he retorted, amusement coloring his words. Snarling, you resented his fucking unruffled calm. And because he was not entirely wrong. No, dumbass, he was wrong. He must be wrong.

More curses flooded out of your mouth, but they were cut short when he dragged your body down his front until your legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was cradling you to his chest. Oh, fuck this. You lifted your hands to scratch his face, maybe do a little eye-gouging, but instead, you just squealed. He swooped you backward, your stomach bottoming out as he set you on the bed, flat on your back. Your towel came undone, leaving you inadequately covered when he hovered over you, his arms positioned on either side of your head as he braced himself over you. You swallowed, tears pricking your eyes. "What a gentleman! Letting me look at your obnoxious face as you murder me," you mouthed off, forcing the words through your tightened throat.

You really needed to shut the fuck up. But you couldn't seem to stop yourself. Apparently, when you were in a life-threatening situation, all you could manage to do was make it worse. While some might perceive it as fearlessness, you could only assume it as an act of sheer stupidity.

Balancing himself with one hand, he reached behind him with the other. As you prepared to unleash more insults from your mouth, his arm emerged, revealing a tightly gripped gun.

Another audible tick of your teeth later, you were back to being choked silent with fear.

"I told you not to run away. I told you to follow the orders," he stated, his tone bled dry of emotion. "Typically, I would choose to crack open your skull and forcibly implant the words in your brain, but it seems you require a different method to learn your lesson."

"Okay, I'm sorry," you rushed out, your eyes widening as he pointed the gun at your chest. "I-I'm really, rea—"

"Shh," he hushed. "You're not sorry yet, love. But you will be."

A myriad thoughts ran through your head on what you could possibly say to get out of this. You were sorry clearly, wasn't good enough. "You're going to shoot me?"

Your bladder threatened to explode, and knowing that you might die in a puddle of pee brought tears to your eyes. A bewildering cocktail of emotions engulfed you. Fear had gripped you tightly, its icy tendrils coiling around your heart, as you found yourself trapped in this fucked up situation. Yet, amidst the suffocating grip of fear, there was a grotesque sense of fascination. You couldn't deny the perverse allure that came with the feeling of being trapped, as if a part of you savored being confined, even as it elicited a thrilling sensation. WHAT? What the fuck was wrong with you?

"You gonna taste this gun one way or another," he responded, his tone dripping with impatience. He punctuated his response by dragging the gun down through the valley of your breasts. The weapon continued its way down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your towel robe's tie. "Will you take the bullet or the gun?" As he inclined his head, his neck tattoos stretched, emphasizing the presence of the pulsating veins that wound their way toward his enigmatic mind. Meanwhile, the small golden loop on his left ear playfully winked at you while he patiently awaited her response.

"Are you fucking serious?" you panicked, your hands gripping the ends of the tie tightly, the fabric moist with sweat. He must be kidding, right?

"I was going to take it easy on you, but when you act like a rabid puppy, you leave me with no choice but to tame you," he said, tracing the tip of his gun along the edges of the towel. "This is your last chance, or I'll do as I see fit."

Your lip trembled, and a single tear slid down your temple. "Please, don't do this."

He cocked a brow, and the act was damning. He appeared so damn unimpressed with your pleas, causing another tear to trace the path of the first. You had to survive, didn't you? You had to endure long enough to witness this man's demise with your own eyes, didn't you? It couldn't hurt that much, could it? Just focus on counting, fixating your gaze upon the cracks in the wall, and listening to the faint chirping of crickets emanating from the pipes.

You gulped and answered, "I-I'll…"

"You'll what? I need you to be loud and clear."

"Y-your…your gun…" you stuttered, words all dropping dead on your dry tongue.

"What about my gun?" he inquired, sliding the weapon beneath the towel and directing it towards your bellbottoms. " Say it, love. Utilize that sharp tongue of yours that knows how to hurl curses."

With your eyes tightly shut, you released your grip on the tie, your hands trembling. "I... I'll... I'll take the gun."

"Take off your towel," he ordered, moving back a little. "Now!"

Sniffing, you finally listened. Hooking your thumbs into the towel's belt, you undid the tie. You fought the urge to cover yourself. Because you knew that the act of hiding would bring him greater delight than being almost entirely naked before him. He dug the thrill of conquering through struggle, and you were determined to deny him that win. You were only able to slide it a little before the muzzle of the gun got in the way.

He took the hint, grabbed the towel, and harshly moved it aside. More tears followed suit as you stuck your thighs together.

"Open your eyes and look at me."

You did as he said; your gaze got tied with his. Yet, as you stared into his eyes, you noticed something unexpected. No hatred, resentment, or even lust reflected in them. Instead, it was a vacant look devoid of any deeper meaning. It dawned on you that violence was his only language, his sole response to the world around him. He had not learned any other way to navigate life. Perhaps the only bright spot in his existence had been his beloved, cruelly taken away.

Maybe, but maybe in a parallel world, you thought, he could have been a different person—a better person, surrounded by love and family. In that alternate reality, you might have looked at him with a second glance, for his eyes, deep azure pools, his lips, and his face were reminiscent of something celestial, qualities that angels would possess, not those cast out from heaven.

Vash's touch shocked you back to reality, causing you to startle, as if you were about to leap out of your own skin. You had to beg your bones to stop shaking.

"Next, your hands," he commanded, jerking his gun to emphasize his directive. Reluctantly, you moved your arms away from your body and let them drop onto the sheets with a huff.

"Stunning," he murmured, his eyes tracing over the curves of your body. He leaned over you again, his mouth kissing the last bruise he left on your shoulder. "Do you know what these mean?" he whispered, pressing another gentle kiss to a different spot on your skin.

You shuddered beneath his touch, electricity sprouting from the point of contact and dancing across your skin. You didn't answer, but he didn't seem to mind. "Those marks," he stated with a sense of ownership, "signify that you belong to me."

The tip of his tongue darted out, trailing your flesh as he moved down toward your breasts.

"Don't—"

His teeth pierced the cigarette burns on your left breast before you could finish your futile plea. You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as he left another mark on your skin. "Now, whenever you see these burns, you'll remember me, not that wretched excuse of a man who's supposed to be your father," he said, claiming your old remnants of torment as his own, leaving his mark upon them.

Once satisfied, he moved to the other one, leaving his own hickeys on your scars. And all you could do was just take it. Because you preferred to associate these scars with his sorrowful souvenirs rather than the memories of your father. To be Frank, in some inexplicable way, he seemed to be aiding you in moving past the deep-seated hatred that had festered within your heart for years. It was as if he was sucking that venom out of you, diverting your wrath towards himself. Did he do this on purpose, or was it merely an unintended consequence of his cruelty?

When your body was well and abused by his teeth and tongue, he lifted and forced your thighs apart. You strained against him, but it only hurt you in the end. He was too strong. With a firm grip on your waist, his clothed forefinger traced the delicate crease of your groin, starting from the juncture of your thigh and trailing downward toward the very center of your being.

Before his finger reached your clit, he tantalizingly ran it up and down your engorged vulva, coming perilously close to your pussy. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt deeply ashamed as you realized your body was responding to his touch. You wanted to cover your face because you knew he was feeling your body's betrayal.

"You're drenched," he rasped out, his lips still wet from his saliva. The sweet Vash with kind eyes had vanished entirely.

"That's called discharge! Your gay ass wouldn't know that!" you snapped, hoping your lie would shoo him away.

He responded with a smile. "As much as I hate to say this to you, I'm no stranger to a woman's pussy and what it feels like when it weeps for me."

Your eyes widened. So this fucker had slept with women too? It seemed he had explored every possible avenue. Disgust curled your lip as you retorted, "Last time I checked, most girls weep because they're upset. Maybe you should take a hint."

He let out a chuckle. "Love, that's exactly what I'm doing."

With a firm grip, he spread your legs apart, baring your pussy to him, where the arousal glistened from within. He muttered a curse under his breath as his eyes hungrily devoured every detail of your being. Another tremble of your lips had you biting down on the traitorous flesh.

With one finger still positioned on your pussy, he raised the gun to your face with his other hand. You flinched back, squeezing your eyes shut and letting loose a startled yelp. "Calm down," he reassured you, his tone strained. "I just want you to suck it."

It took several seconds for his words to register. To process that he didn't pull the trigger and you were not dead. As the comprehension dawned, your eyes flew open, and you shot him a fierce glare. "Why the hell—"

He tapped the gun's tip against your mouth, effectively cutting you off. The remainder of your words dissipated into thin air as he glided the gun across your lips, almost as if he was painting them with lipstick.

"Suck," he ordered, his tone deepening with finality. Closing your eyes against more tears, you opened your mouth and obediently opened your mouth, allowing him to guide the gun between your teeth. You squeezed your lids tighter as you twirled your tongue over the cold metal, cringing from the nasty taste.

"My good girl," he said, pulling the dripping gun out, a trail of saliva following until it snapped.

Your entire body locked when the cool metal slid against your clit. You flinched against the foreign touch of an incredibly dangerous weapon. A wave of pure terror washed over you, and it took all your strength to keep from full-on sobbing.

Holding a gun to your head was far less intimidating than it being held between your legs. A gunshot to the head would bring instant death, but this? This would be slow and painful. Torturous.

He leaned in, close enough for his warm breath to caress your core. You raised yourself, yearning for a clearer view. He met your gaze at that moment, peering up at you through his long, thick lashes, his perfect blue eyes sparkling with delight.

As you parted your lips to question what he was doing, he stuck out his tongue, saliva pooling to the tip and dripping off onto your pussy.

"Seems like you can never be too wet, can you, love?" Sitting up, he traced circles around your entrance with the gun, the metal slipping against your skin.

What if he shoots you mistakenly?

"Oh, my God, please do—" This time, your words were cut off as he pressed the gun past your folds. Just the tip, but enough to close your throat, only allowing a startled squeak to escape.  

He laughed cruelly. "Don't hold back. Moan if you want."

You'd snap at him if you weren't frozen solid. You couldn't look away. Helplessly, you just watched him push the gun inside you, your rounded eyes barely processing what you saw and felt. Everything so fucking surreal.

Slowly, he worked the gun inside you, eliciting both pleasure and pain. You clenched your jaw, shuddering from his ministrations but refusing to make a sound. You were determined not to grant him the satisfaction.

He gradually worked the weapon halfway in before retracting it to the very tip, granting you a brief moment to catch your breath. However, that respite was short-lived as he buried the entire barrel deep within you. Your hands clenched the sheets as you sucked in a sharp gasp and let your head fall back, unable to bear witness any longer, drained of the strength to endure the sight.

This was so, so fucked up. Beyond fucked up.

As the gun pulled back and penetrated you once more, a noise did slip through as a wave of pleasure rocked through you. FUCK!

"Good girl," he breathed. "Now open wider, love." His free hand nudged against your thigh. Without a thought, your thighs instinctively parted further. Another praise, but you barely heard it over the beating of your heart.

"I can feel how tight your pussy is. The way it clings to my gun when I slide it out—exquisite."

You bit your lip, but it wasn't enough to hold in the forthcoming moan. Or the one after that. You could hear the suctioning and slurping noises as he fucked you with his gun, and shame filled you in response. The embarrassment nearly overrode the fear. But neither was more potent than the pleasure your body was compelled to submit to.

When he angled the gun in a particular way, he hit the spot inside you that sent your eyes to the back of your head and an unchecked moan to slip free. He growled in response, further fueling your arousal. Your back arched as he skillfully continued to target and stimulate that pleasurable area.

Your hole grew impossibly tight, biting into the gun barrel when his gloved hand gripped your thigh in a bruising hold. Your heart jumped when he leaned closer but only clamped his teeth onto your inner thigh. You cried out from the sharp bite, but it quickly morphed into a moan, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body as he hit that spot again.

His mouth sucked your thigh, and his movements quickened until you felt the familiar stirrings of an impending orgasm settled low in the pit of your stomach.

"Please," you begged but didn't know what for. He relented, briefly tearing his mouth away, only to clamp down again, this time lower but still frustratingly distant from your center. Too far away. Sadly far away.

"Tell me what you learned, love," he demanded, looking up at you, his mouth wet from his biting. The sight made your heart drop deep into your belly, right to where the gun was driving into you.

"Not to bite you?" you guessed, your voice trembling as if you were high. He answered by biting your thigh in a punishing grip. You cried out, the pain blinding. He loosened his jaw, allowing the pain to blend with pleasure.

A primal, guttural sound slipped out as he thrust the gun deep. "Are you going to make me ask again?"

You opened your mouth, but no answer came out. Your silence allowed you to hear his warning loud and clear. He cocked the gun.

"Okay, okay, fuck," you relented with a terrified hush. "I-I learned not to run away from my cage." Those words brought tears to your eyes because uttering them aloud made you feel truly trapped by this man.

"Who owns your life, love?"

You closed your eyes, resenting the lie on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill forth just like the tears streaming down your face. "You," you whispered, the bitter taste of the words clogging your throat.

A battlefield raged in your body.

One part of you craved his touch, longing for him to make you come. Meanwhile, another part of you harbored a dark desire, wishing for him to turn the gun upon himself and fire it.

You glanced downwards at him and noted how he was staring at you. And you had the terrifying realization that he saw through your deceit and didn't believe your lies.

"You have ten more seconds to come, love. No more chances after that," he warned before nipping at your thigh again. "Rub your clit."

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted to do was allow this man the satisfaction of making you come and, even worse, helping him do it. In your mind, he didn't fucking deserve it. And though your body was strung tight with desperation for release, your mind rebelled against the idea.

"Now," he shouted, his eyes blazing with something carnal and dangerous.

Muttering a curse, you reached down and twirled your fingers over your clit, too scared of the potential consequences. If it was between orgasming and getting shot, you were going to have to choose the option that would cause the least damage.

"Good girl," he whispered. It took two more thrusts of the gun before you were propelled over the edge, your ass shooting clear off the ground as the orgasm ripped through you. You were screaming. You could feel the sound vibrating the muscles in your throat and turning it increasingly hoarse. But you couldn't hear it. Not when your entire being was consumed in fire and ice, and you could only see a blissful heaven.

The gun worked inside of you faster and deeper, drawing out the orgasm until you were literally begging for it to come to an end. He ripped the weapon out of you, and your thighs snapped shut instantly, sealing off the remnants of your shameful orgasm.

You were left a shuddering mess from the aftershocks as the waves of pleasure subsided. Meanwhile, his body towered over you. Through your half-lidded eyes, still jerking from the little shocks, you glanced up and met his gaze. His face broke into the broadest smile you had ever seen on his face, and you noticed he had dimples.

He had fucking dimples.

He was easily the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. And you wished you'd never seen it. Because something inside your heart was being torn apart, and it felt like fear, it tasted like panic, and you didn't know how to understand the image in front of you.

You didn't want to see Vash like this. You vehemently refused to perceive him as anything other than a monster. This wasn't right. Your body was full of rage, humiliation, and shame—you knew this. But it was like your brain couldn't process those emotions, so it was just choosing to feel nothing at all. Was this what trauma did? Knowing that you had been violated, yet your body opting for a state of numbness instead?

The silver cross sprung from his shirt, diverting your gaze to the scar it adorned. "Lick this clean," he said, placing his gun onto your bared breast. "I can't use this when it's dripping your cum."

Like a magic trick, he pulled his body back, and every heat you had in your veins disappeared. With one last lingering look, he stood up and turned his back to you, his hands probably adjusting his pants. Then he began to walk leisurely toward the wall, floorboards creaking beneath his weight. Not even a passing glance was spared in your direction. Probably you didn't exist for him anymore. He had taken what he wanted, reducing you to nothingness.

Men.

As he neared the worn-out brick wall, his hand delved into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette. With practiced precision, he placed it in the corner of his mouth. His fingers trembled as he reached for his lighter, or perhaps it was merely a figment of your imagination. Anyhow, he poised himself to ignite the flame, preparing to immerse himself in the disgusting cloud of smoke that would soon envelop him.

You moved without thinking, your hand wrapping around the sticky gun. You would never lick this shit. You stood on your feet, not caring about covering yourself. The second he realized what you'd done, he backed away, raising his hands in surrender—the stupid cigarette dangling between his lips.

You pointed the gun right at his fucking head, and all you wanted to do was blow it off. All you wanted to see was his brain exploding beneath the bullet. Because you were not looking into the face of the man who could easily steal your heart under different circumstances. You didn't see him at all. You only saw a faceless man who took what he wanted from you, and you let him. But now you wanted him to fucking burn for it.

Tears built in your eyes, your vision blurring. The gun was vibrating from how hard your hand trembled, but he stood close enough that you'd strike accurately. Whether the bullet hit his head, his throat, or his chest, you didn't care.

"Love," he whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the sweet but stupid, stupid, stupid whisper out of your head. You didn't want to hear it.

"I haven't done anything to you." Your voice cracked. "How can you hurt me like this?" Your eyes burned from the tears welling up. And within seconds, they spilled, running down your cheeks. It seemed like orgasm had pushed your feelings out with itself.

And he seemed to realize it too because a subtle change reflected in his eyes. "I asked you to stay away from trouble," he murmured, his voice so soft. "Why don't you listen to me?" He bared his teeth, his own ire flashing in his eyes. "Do you think I enjoy hurting you?"

"I do!" you shouted, thrusting the gun at him. You sucked in a sharp breath as a sob climbed up your throat. He nodded slowly, a glimmer of understanding replacing the anger that had once flamed in his eyes.

Deep down, you knew better. You knew he wasn't angry with you. He was angry because he was helpless. Hopeless. A goddamn lost cause. Because he would never be the same, and he knew that. But what he didn't know was what to do with it.

A sob escaped your throat, but the rage persisted. He slowly stepped towards you, like approaching a frightened animal with vicious teeth. His eyes didn't stray from yours as he advanced, and you were so close to slipping back into that paralyzing hold he had on you. Then he was right before you again, pressing his lips into the gun barrel.

"Does this make you feel powerful?" he murmured.

Another sob broke free, but you didn't lower the weapon.

"Does this make you feel free?"

You scowled but couldn't muster the courage to respond. You couldn't articulate what it made you feel—you just knew it made you feel something. You stared at the gun in your hand, at the smooth, heavy metal, and you were surprised to find that you enjoyed the way it nestled within your grip, like an extension of your body. It didn't frighten you anymore.

You could stand still in this moment forever.

"What you seem to have forgotten," he snarled, "is that I am already a dead man. I died months ago. So go ahead, pull that trigger, love. End the remaining fragments of my existence. I am nothing but a hollow vessel."

You broke and screwed your eyes shut against the flood of tears, but it was like putting a flimsy piece of paper over a bursting pipe. Agony etched across your face, consuming you completely. "I don't want to be here," you choked out, barely getting the words out before a gut-wrenching sob tore through your trembling lips.

"Let me help you—fuck love, just fucking kill me," he bit, his voice breaking. He opened his mouth, and the barrel slid in. His lips tightly closed around the gun, his eyes staring at you, begging you.

Pull the trigger.

It wasn't fair, but it was becoming harder and harder to look at Vash and blame him, too. You were beginning to revert to that weak, thoughtful part of yourself that was convinced your life wouldn't be such a goddamn shitshow if your father didn't come barreling into it.

But no! You would no longer let your emotions get in the way. You were supposed to play this game by its own rules. So if it were your turn to shoot, you would do it.

No hesitating. No understanding. Just pulling this little trigger.

Click.

To your dismay, there was only a vacant stillness, a blackhole that swallowed your hopes and replaced them with a rising tide of unease. Your chest resonated with the thunderous cadence of your own heart, the loud thud filling your ears as you refused to accept the defeat. Ignoring the gnawing doubts gnarling at your mind, you pulled the trigger again and again and again.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of the emptiness mocked your growing desperation.

A cold sweat bead on your brow as you stumbled backward, your body shaking with disbelief. Your eyes widened in horror as you stared at the gun, and when your gaze met his face, your world unraveled further into a maelstrom of darkness. His lips contorted into a wicked grin, now devoid of the innocence and sadness he pretended to have. The sight sent a tremor scurrying up your soul, your skin prickling with a nauseating blend of aversion and revulsion.

"You taste fantastic, love" Vash's voice slithered with a perverse delight as he savored the moment, his tongue caressing his lips in a vile display. His hands, tainted with malice, raked through his disheveled hair. Then with an ear-splitting crack, he twisted his neck, relishing in the discomfort he inflicted upon himself. "You hate me enough to try pulling the trigger four times?"

Your blood ran icy as his words seeped into your consciousness, a sting as bitter as poison. Suffocating the room, his laughter took on a haunting quality, a symphony of evilness. Each note of his amusement revealed the true nature of his depravity, shattering the fragile illusion of triumph you once held.

"Did you really think I'll leave you with a loaded gun?" Then as if to prove how simple-minded you were, he reached into his pocket, extracting the sixth bullet with a perverse flourish. He presented it before you, a diabolical offering that sealed your fate. The weight of that one extra little bullet pressed down upon you, an oppressive force that smothered any remnants of hope.

"Game over," he declared, his voice dripping with finality, each syllable a nail in the coffin of your aspirations. The room contracted around you, a claustrophobic arena that confined you to this sleepless nightmare. "You've got balls."

Your eyes snapped up, your mind working quickly to fit all the pieces together, and he was gaping at you, staring at you in a way that was entirely foreign to you, in a way that said he was utterly, absolutely amazed. You were not sure if he was proud.

But the fact that the gun was empty the whole time was a kick in the gut. No. It was a gun in the cunt.

"It… empty…bullet…" Stuttering, you turned to look at the bed, sheets still wet from your heinous climax, and then yourself, every inch of your body bare to his disgusting gaze.

Fingers coiling like vipers ready to strike, Vash extended his arm, reaching closer to your slumped figure. As his hand reached you, he guided it downward with deliberate precision, his touch a phantom of sweetness. You remained motionless, your body as still as a fragile porcelain doll, your spirit hollowed out by his relentless torment. You offered no resistance, Your limbs heavy with acceptance. It didn't have a meaning anyway. This was his playground, and you were nothing but a worthless pawn.

The room held its breath, like you when you thought his fingers were headed for your hole again, only to find them closing around the gun with an ironclad grip.

He leaned closer to your ear, whispering, "You're far too naïve. I would never take even the slightest risk of losing my favorite toy."

Your eyes got shot closed, your lips pressing on each other as he planted a kiss on your temple and walked out without any more words.

You opened your mouth, and you screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately. Just so you could escape this feeling. No. You wanted that gun loaded with bullets to turn it on yourself.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

Unbeknownst to you, concealed beyond that door,

Lurked a man whose rage echoed, fierce and sore.

His clenched fists, like thunder, struck the wall,

Cracks of anguish appeared, a fractured sprawl.

Hiding behind fake smiles, a mask so sly,

His anger, a tempest, veiled in a lie.

A scarlet torrent, his fury took form,

Dripping blood, a cascade of rage, a storm.

Each drop, a vessel of despair and pain,

A sanguine river, flowing through his veins.

Violence and turmoil, a twisted display,

Beneath the veneer, his demons held sway.

In delicate descent, his anguish displayed,

The ruby tears of fury, his soul unswayed.

A tapestry of emotions, woven in red,

His inner turmoil, from which he bled.

Oh, the secrets held within that hidden space,

Where anger, despair, and violence interlace,

A glimpse into the depths of his tortured soul,

A tragic symphony, the blood's solemn toll.

The poem at the end belongs to me, so please don't use it without permission.

Disclaimer: The gunplay scene is inspired by the books I've read.

Taglist: @julk4e - @lune010 - @beanibon - @emptybrain01 - @changingchances

If you want to be on the tag list, leave a comment.

[peachyloveswriting]

@seabassycat asked: Vash. Something like him getting jealous about Wolfwood giving attention to the person Vash likes but is too shy to tell until Wolf does something about it.

This one is set in the newer Trigun show, figured I'd change up pace for just a moment lol. I like the dynamic here so hopefully something flourishes.

MAKE A MOVE ALREADY! --- Vash The Stampede

SUMMARY: This whole ignoring you thing has gotten out of hand maybe it's time you finally leave... Or so you thought.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Laughter bubbles into the air around the fire, you find it hilarious watching Meryl's face contort into disgust as Nick shoves a meat stick into her face. She reels back, a hand on his chest trying to push him away. "Ew. No!" She cries. Her and Roberto sit across from you while Nick moves to steal Vash's empty spot beside you.

From the truck, Vash watches Nick plop down beside you. In his hand is the same stick of meat he was torturing Meryl with and while that brought a smile to his face, seeing Nick throw an arm around your shoulder irked him. Normally this kind of thing wouldn't bother him but seeing you smiling and laughing while being so close to him... Suddenly you squeal. "Vash!" You try to push Nick away with your hands and lean your head away from him as much as you can. He's forcing the same stick of meat towards your face while you laugh and squeal hysterically, all while calling for Vash to do something.

Though he's disappointed by how easy it is for Nick to interact with you he jogs up and takes the stick of meat from Nick's hand with a grin. Whipping his head around, Nick gasps in betrayal. "Give it back!" He leaps up to grab his food back.

Nick jumps and grabs for the food in Vash's hand but he easily evades him and dances around him like a fool. Your laugh erupts in the background. "Payback!" Butterflies erupt in Vash's stomach. Just hearing your laugh and joyful voice makes his chest grow warm. he'd give anything to see you so happy like this all the time. He's so wrapped up in you that Wolfwood snatches back the food.

"If you keep acting like this... You'll get killed. Just tell them already. It's so obvious you like them."

Nick walked away so fast that Vash almost didn't catch what he said. This really was ruining Vash all over. Watching everyone interact with you so easily while he slunk away to be by himself in fear of exposing himself to you. That feels like that last thing he wants but knowing all of him is what he wants you to do. All of his secrets would be yourself and yours would be his. But no matter what, with all these hands on you, his stayed the farthest away while Nick stayed the closest.

You waved to him. "Vash, c'mon. Sit down." Patting the empty seat beside you, you gesture for him to sit down. Politely, Vash shakes his head. "I think I'll head to bed." He raises his hands defensively. "Night." Turning, he gives a small wave before stepping inside the truck.

Watching his walk away, you frown. Of everyone in the group he was the easiest to get along with yet he avoids you the most. You try so hard to get his attention or approval yet you get nothing in return. Beside you, Nick settles again. Tearing off a piece of meat he nudges you. "Go check on Needle-noggin."

"What? Me? No. I shouldn't." Anyone but you should do it. He would say much otherwise.

Nick motions to the truck. "Just do it."

Lowering your gaze to the ground, you sigh. Truth be told, Vash was the one who roped you into the group. Between everyone else and him, he feels more familiar than the others. It should be him that you're closer to, yet he avoids you like the plague. Even though these people have provided you with everything you need Vash is the only reason you wanted to stay. With him avoiding you, leaving felt more than easy to do, but you don't want to leave. Damn him.

"Fine." Placing your knees, you rise to your feet. "I'll be back."

Warmth from the fire fades as you reach the back door to the truck. Through the window you can see Vash leaned back in the seat, his head angles out the window opposite to you. Raising a hand you softly knock and open the door. "Hey."

Vash lifts his head to look at you. "oh, hey." He doesn't sound happy to see you. For a moment you debate just leaving and going back to the fire, but seeing him now only further fuels your reasoning for coming out here. Sliding into the seat you shut the door behind you. The silence that fills the truck is unnerving, it makes your stomach churn with unease. Just the way he's purposefully looking away from you is killing you. There has to be a reason why.

You take a deep breath. Your heart pounds in your chest and your throat feels dry. "Do you hate me?" The age old question that's been stuck on your mind.

Finally, Vash whips around to look at you. His eyes are wide, it's almost like he's shocked by what you said and he jumps to shoot your thoughts down. "No. I don't hate you. Not at all. What made you think that?"

You shift your gaze past him and out the window. "You avoid the fuck out of me." It only started a few weeks into traveling with everyone. It only got worse from there. "I really think you hate me."

Vash's face softens. The disappointment is written all over your face, he knows what he did. But just moments ago you were laughing and smiling along with everyone else. What brought on such a foul mood? Why did he have to see you so down?

"I'm sorry." He looks down at his hands. Stupid apologies won't solve the way he feels or the way you feel but he's trapped, if he tells you now the whole thing will be ruined and you'll leave on your own again. He'll be left alone without you there to pull him away from these sad things he feels, you're the only one who does that for him. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

"Vash." You look back at him. "Vash." He raises his head to meet your gaze. "The only reason I stayed was because of you. I only thought about leaving when you started ignoring me." Vash's heart feels like it's going to explode in his chest at any moment. Just hearing that from you makes him feel like he might seize. It's almost unbelievable that you would say something like that to him, The Humanoid Typhoon.

"Really?" He urges. "I had no clue. Is there anything I can do to make up for it?" His need to sate his own curiosity is of no use to him. What does matter is the way you feel and how he can fix it, regardless of how he feels.

"Maybe you could start by telling me why. Why would you ignore me?"

There it is, the question he hoped you wouldn't ask. All these emotions are too much for him to even handle right now. He can't possibly tell you the truth, you'll never feel the same.

Vash looks away and shakes his head. "I'll tell you some other time." A brief moment of silence passes over you before you explode.

"Vash. I have had enough of this 'everything's perfect' facade and 'I can't tell you' bullshit. I want to know the truth. If I did something you should just tell me." Your hand grabs his with a vice grip. "Just tell me, please."

When his eyes meet yours again, they're swimming with worry, while his are teaming with sadness. To see you so frustrated over such a simple thing makes his chest ache. If he just told you it might save you the turmoil, but... Fuck it. Just as he opens his mouth to spill his feelings to you, the passenger door opens. "Coming in. You two better not be making out or anything." Roberto announces.

Dread fills your body watching Roberto climb in, not even what he said brings the slightest blush to your face. Instead, you squeeze Vash's hand tighter and look back at him sternly. "You better tell me the next time we're alone."

Swallowing harshly with a nod he leans his head up against the glass. Slowly your hand slips from his and you quietly bid both of them goodnight as you slip out the truck. Vash felt nothing but guilt as he watched you go and all the willpower he felt to tell you went with. This really felt like a mistake.

--

You crossed paths with Meryl on your way back out to the fire. Nick was watching you, still sitting in the same spot as he had been before. Even knowing that Vash would tell you eventually, that didn't stop your want to leave from growing. Reaching the spot beside Nick, you quietly took a seat.

"Well?" He urges.

You shake your head. "When we reach the next city, I'm leaving."

Nick looks at you in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm sleeping out here tonight. Goodnight." Was all you said. Annoyed with Vash, Nick bid you goodnight and left back to the truck. Finally alone to yourself, staring up at the brilliantly lit night sky, you honestly considered packing and leaving now. What a better time to leave without the hassle of the other bugging you than now that they're asleep. You wait as long as you possibly can before you clamber up to the top of the truck where your belongings rest with the other. It lays directly beside Vash's bag, leaning up against it.

Throwing the bag over your shoulder, you slide off the truck. Taking a moment, you turn to gaze at the truck with a deep breath before you turn to make your way into the empty and dangerous desert. The quiet coldness of the air feels serene as you take your first step away. Just leaving like this feels bad but what other reason do you have to stay.

--

When the door opened and closed again, Vash peeked an eye open to see Nick glaring at him. He felt he was in for a lecture. But instead he leaned closer to him and began to whisper.

"You should be disappointed. They're leaving in the next city."

Vash's heart drops. "What?" It's like his world has stopped spinning entirely. "I'm going to talk to them." Nick grabbed Vash's hand to stop him.

"You're not going out there unless it's to confess blondie." Vash snatches his wrist from Nick's grasp. With a stern glare he pushes the door open. "Exactly."

That was Vash's plan until he got caught up behind the truck watching you from afar. You laid beside the fire staring up at the glowing sky. Just thinking about going out right saying it fills him with anxiety. If it's out of the blue it's no use, he would just have to convince you. He became caught up in the matters of thinking this over and before he knew it you were nowhere to be seen, until he noticed you on top of the truck. Diving to the ground he pushes himself under just in time to see your feet hit the ground where he just was.

When you started walking away he crawled from underneath the truck and started after you. As he reached you, he tapped your shoulder. You paused and spun around ready to fight. Realizing it was just him, you sighed with relief. "It's just you. I thought you were asleep." You hadn't even heard him leave the truck. Surely you would have.

Nervously, Vash offers you a smile. "And I thought you weren't leaving until the next city."

Your breath hitches in your throat. "Wolfwood told me." Vash admits.

You let your bag drop to the ground beside you. His face is lit softly by the glow of the worms over head. It only accentuates the color in his eyes now that hes not wearing his shades. Suddenly be begins to slip off his coat. "You look cold." He offers it to you. "Take this." You feel wrong to accept his offer but take it any way, the night air was starting to get to you. Pulling it on, you're overwhelmed by a strong floral smell and light musk. It's not bad by any means, and the coat is warm.

"Thanks."

Vash's heart leaps in his chest. Seeing you in his coat leaves his head soaring. He'd have you wear it all the time if he could. But not wanting to waste any more time he takes you by the hand and begins to lead you up hill towards the overhang that covers the truck. "What are you doing?"

His hand feels rightly placed within yours and the warmth is simply unforgettable. "Just wait." He tells you.

As you reach the tip of the overhang, a swift breeze blows past, flapping the end of the coat out behind you. Everything is visible along the horizon and the worms are closer than before making their light bright around you. Each one of them looks like stars that dot the sky. For a moment it makes you forget your unrest.

With his hand still in yours, Vash beckons you to sit down beside him. Happily taking his over you settle beside him. This is the closest you've ever sat to him without having to be in the truck and of his free will too. As strange as it feels it sits just right in your soul and everything feels right. The way his hand slips from yours and slides across your back to tug you closer. Both you stare out at the horizon in silence before acknowledging the other verbally. if you could you'd stay here forever.

"Can I tell you something?" Vash asks.

Instinctively you lean your head on his shoulder. "Yeah."

Feeling you rest your head against his shoulder, he tenses. Everything around him feels like he's under water. He's too scared to drown. Telling you would mean letting the water in but his lips can't stay sealed for much longer, the need to breathe is too much. He has to do it.

"The truth is..." You raise your head to look at him. "I've been avoiding you because I really like you and seeing everyone be able to interact with you so easily, especially Wolfwood, it bothers me." He looks down at you. "It's selfish that I want you all to myself but I can't have that if you leave. I really want you here, with me."

Your heart is pounding in your ears. "Selfish?" You question. "Is it really selfish if I want you too?"

Vash's eyes open wide with surprise while warmth fills his chest. "You actually like me back?"

With a playful grin you shove him. "Yeah. I would have left way sooner otherwise. I'm glad you stopped me."

He chuckles. "Wow. That's a relief." The weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders for just a moment. With you by his side the world feels like it's just within his grasp. His arm wrapped around you and your hand grabbing his prosthetic one. The very thing he has been seeking was right here for all this time and he was just too scared to take a chance. That still leaves the plant matter in the air though. How would you react to that?

"There's some things I should probably tell you if you're going to be with me like that." At least now he could finally trade your secrets with his and hold you close like he had hoped he would.

Your eyes fall to his lips. "I won't mind, whatever it is. But I really want to-"

Before you can get the word out Vash's lips are already against yours. He's soft, his prosthetic hand slipping from yours to cup your face. Letting your eyes flutter closed, you melt against him. Just like before a strong floral smell engulfs you. You don't mind it though and instead allow yourself to melt into his touch.

"Thank you for staying." He says as he pulls away.

Resting your forehead against his, you smile. "I would have come back eventually."

[trigunwritings]

Hello hell-o!!, so i wanna request can i get Gn! Reader with base on a song hire the song

Gn! Reader who is an angel who fall from the heaven , disguise her self as a human, Bit by bit they try and try to help people , but somewhat felling bit sad and you know.. Kinda hate himself , eventually they meet humanoid typhoon it self, and so bit by bit spent time with him, The reader wanted to show her true self ( like wings and Halo things ect) and yet they did but reader said " I'm look bad aren't i? " But Ofc you know Vash Like shut the reader up and tell that they are Not bad ect ect

SO YE IT'S MIGHT BE SAD A LIL BUT IN THE END READER HAPPY WOOO!!!

One step placed in front of the one before it, the motion even and repeating. It’s almost a mantra of physical movement, over and over again with no seeming end in sight—both metaphorical as much as physical. Onward. That’s all you can think. Onward and onward.

How long? The hot days and cold nights have begun to blur together.

How far? You’ve lost count of the steps since last meeting the eyes of another living thing.

The feeling of sand beneath your feet has gone numb, faded into the background of pure existence just like everything else; the sharp wind, the cold darkness, the air burning beneath a merciless sun. Things like hunger, sleep, thirst—they are nothing, but you are not without a physical sense that feels lacking and empty.

But it’s for the best, you tell yourself.

A lie, you tell yourself.

-

It’s never a good idea to stay in one place too long. If you do, people begin to get curious; from there, curiosity turns into suspicion, then to realization, and then accusation. It’s the same cycle every. single. time. Once one person knows the origin of their town’s newfound ‘miracles’ then its only a matter of hours to get out before they inevitably try to corner you with desperate pleas and agonizing voices of hope.

Please heal my son, he’s been sick for so long-

-bless our crops so that they will finally grow, or else we’ll starve-

-you can’t leave without helping us!

Help us.

You have to.

Each voice is a stone you drag along behind you, tied inexplicably to your memories no matter how hard you want to forget them. Sometimes they are just desperate and think they must convince you to part with some of your strength in order to heal their sick, their tired, their hungry. Other times—most other times—they think you are selfish and evil. To be capable of helping people and not doing so, they say, is that not a form of evil itself?

And that is why you roam. Why you can’t afford to stay without bringing even more harm and fear to the very people you want to help. Why you are afraid to let anyone see you. Know you.

Beg you.

Curse you.

It’s for the best, you tell yourself.

-

Your existence spans so many years that its hard to pull specific moments apart from the relative gray that haunts you. Moments of fleeting joy interspersed with empty desert, sand beneath your feet and wind howling in your ears.

But is shattered by the companionship of one singular man, and his name is Vash.

At first you’re wary of him, hoping to leave his presence and escape to your self-enforced isolation every moment that you can. And yet somehow he sticks to you without fail, as if he has the same levels of unending stamina and inhuman lack of basic needs—but he is so… bright? Joyful? Having grown so used to the cold, dark auras of people in need, Vash’s soul is like staring directly into the sun.

You think that he will wander off on his own path eventually, but he doesn’t—nor does he ask any questions when most would.

The random feathers strewn about camp in the morning after bedding down for the night (it felt nice to sleep again).

Your constant supply of food somehow procured from deep within the old bag on your shoulders (when did it taste so good?).

He did not even question when, in the quiet moments beneath the dark night sky, you held up your cupped hands so that he could sip from the water that miraculously came into existence from nothing at all. And as you sipped in kind, it tasted so cool and refreshing against your dry throat.

When had it been so quenching?

-

“Vash.”

The sound of his name stopped the man mid-step. He turns, eyes glancing back towards you curiously but saying nothing in reply.

He has to know. Why won’t he say something about it? Why isn’t he calling you selfish?

“I’m not human,” you say, the words like needles against your tongue.

He’s quiet for a moment before a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“I know.”

“This is not what I really look like.”

“I know.”

You stare at him for an unknown amount of time before your gaze moves down towards the sand shifting around your feet. How many grains of sand was there on this planet? How many people had succumbed to its deadly embrace? Starvation when you could have created food, illness when you could have healed them. How many people have died in which you could have saved?

A hand suddenly comes down upon your shoulder, jolting you from your thoughts so viscerally that when you look back up to see Vash standing in front of you, there must be tears in your eyes from how much they burn.

“Having the power to help one person doesn’t obligate you to help everyone.”

Hypocrite, but an honest one.

He brings his hands up to cup either side of your face. Is that empathy in his eyes? An understanding? Whatever emotion lies within them, it is interlaced with a pain you are all too familiar with. The pain of regret and guilt.

But his touch is soft and warm. New and unfamiliar. In that very moment, you suddenly realize that there’s not a singular moment within the gray sea of existence that you remember someone touching you like this. It’s nice.

And that’s when your wings shimmer into material existence. Feathers swirl in the air around you both, as numerous and white as forgotten bones strewn across the desert. With but a simple motion they expand outward, so wide that they cast a dark shadow across Vash’s entire body from the suns behind you. Two, four… six? Maybe more, countable and uncountable in ways a human’s eyes can’t always perceive.

The golden ring of light above your head sits like a crown, though it feels many times heavier. Neither a physical or material shape, it hums and wavers in and out of existence as the sunlight scatters through the air. You can even feel the marks start taking shape on your skin—words of a language so old that it spoke the universe into existence.

And Vash doesn’t look away from you.

He watches, smile never fading, holding your face in his palms even when he must feel the weight of a thousand mountains on his shoulders in your presence. Even as the air is hard to breathe, even when your very whispers are like thunder, he looks at you with such fondness.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”

And for the first time since the dawn of time itself, you truly believed him.

[finalmoment]

cw: discussions of childhood trauma, child abuse, eating disorders, and suicide.

i dont think brad and luida were perfect, or even exemplary, caretakers for vash. this is partially a perspective rooted in theories about trauma (especially childhood trauma) -- but like, clearly they imprison him for months. he's a young child fresh from an incredibly traumatic event that he feels personally responsible for. he has no family, his brother used him and hurt him, his adopted mother is dead, and he wants to die. and his first experience with humans is, functionally, them going "uh i guess you might be okay but we don't quite trust you, there's just something about you that means we have to keep you right here in this one room and not let you leave" and vash just accepts this. he's too tired, and he hates himself too much, to question it, and in some ways it must make sense to him bc he did do something terrible, so they shouldn't trust him.

and then, whether intentionally or not, luida ties his worth to his ability to be useful. "there has to be something only you can do," she says, and that would maybe work if vash's problems started and ended with feeling useless, but they don't. there's so much more going on. he's called monstrous by the other humans on ship three; he sees himself as monstrous already. the only reason he can't kill himself is because he's being monitored and also because he's handcuffed, like, constantly at this point. he spends well over 4 months in what is basically solitary confinement -- a period of time and a tactic that would break any adult, so what does it do to an already-broken child? especially one that's implied to have been starving himself for the entire duration of his imprisonment.

they only start actually trusting him as a person when he proves useful to them, when he saves the plant. his decision to start eating again and his freedom/official residence on ship three are connected directly to his ability to be useful, and this is the path vash will follow for the next few decades -- seeing his value to people as measured in what he can do for them, and otherwise seeing himself as someone whose existence is fundamentally at odds with other people's peace/security/happiness. brad was vocal about not trusting him, and even if vash doesn't seem to harbor any ill feelings towards him for this (and i would bet that vash doesn't, in fact, feel that this was wrong of brad to do), it's still really painful! brad is initially sulky and put-off around vash and disapproving of luida's decision to trust him, even if vash grows on him eventually i can't imagine vash didn't internalize this attitude to himself to some degree or another. it takes him long-ish period (around a few years) to decide that brad does in fact like him a little.

and the whole time he's keeping this massive secret from them and it must be driving him insane. he can't talk about it because his wounds are just as fresh, but he can't talk about it because he doesn't know what they'll do when they find out. he didn't feel secure with them; even if he felt loved, and loved them back. but he couldn't be open with them, he could only do his best to be as useful and selfless as possible so that he can store up goodwill against the time when his secrets spill out. and the moment they do, he's branded a traitor immediately. luida doesn't believe it, but vash doesn't hear her say a word in his defense. he only hears brad decide that all of vash's actions by his side mean nothing in the face of one childish error of misplaced trust.

and of course, all of this does get better, in some way or another. no family is perfect; luida goes after vash, and brad makes it up to him. but...trauma doesn't go away that easily. vash doesn't return home unless he really needs to, for his arm. luida and brad decide to put themselves into cryo-sleep, leaving vash without a stable family again. in the span of time vash has lived, many relationships can be repaired -- especially if the person wronged is so eager to erase his own pain.

i've been thinking for a while about the patterns in vash's behavior, trying to trace them to a starting point. i think this is as good a place as any: even if knives was the one to lay the groundwork for vash's issues, many people since have contributed to them, adding their own influences to the guilt and self-hate vash carries around. and many of those people have, genuinely and unreservedly, loved vash and been loved by him anyway.