#trigun imagines

[pinkanonwrites]

Thinking about how it would be to c0ckwarm Vash 🤤

I've been sitting on this post and haven't answered it for TOO DAMN LONG, so here's a treat.~ alien biology vash in this one, btw

NSFW Below the cut!

He's so bad at sitting still, cockwarming is the best kind of torture for him. He does his best but you feel so good and so soft and so warm that he doesn't even realize he's moving until you're gently scolding him again.

Put a towel down wherever the two of you plan on cozying up, cause his dick's gonna be leaking like a faucet the entire time he's nestled in you. Again, it's not like he can help it, you just feel too good. Translucent slick will be oozing out where the two of you are connected, soaking both of your legs and probably whatever's beneath you too.

Once you finally let him cum he damn near blacks out, it feels so fucking good. He's got a low tolerance for being denied orgasm, sniffling and tearing up and begging until you let him chase the relief he's so desperately craving and he dissolves into a blathering, tear soaked mess as he wrecks your hole.

"Vash, honey."

"....Mmmyeah?"

You knew that Vash knew that he'd been caught, and he didn't even need to remove his face from where it was nuzzled into your bare chest to see his 'hand in the cookie jar' expression in your mind's eye.

"I thought we agreed you were gonna stop moving around so much?" You cooed. A full body shiver coursed through him, and you could feel it at every point of contact where his body was entangled with your own. Especially at his hips which, despite himself, gave another unsteady little jerk and thrust his cock once more into your aching heat. You pinched the shell of his ear and he whined, hips falling still even as his inhuman cock continued to wriggle and twitch a bit within you.

"I'm trying." He whimpered, kissing wetly at the inner curve of your breast. "Can't stop it, it's got a mind of its own, y'know."

You cupped the back of his neck, threading your fingers in his soft hair and twisting just enough to make him gasp. "How about just a few more minutes then? Can you wait just a little bit longer for me, puppy?"

"Ohh.~" He groaned, low and throaty. You felt a trickle of sweat beading down the valley of your chest before Vash's tongue dipped to lap it away, moaning at the taste. "It's so good though, so warm. You're so wet, I can feel it dripping out…"

"I should be saying the same thing to you." With your fronts pressed together and your leg slung over his hip, it felt like all the excess slick from Vash's cock was pooling along your inner thighs, slicking the warm skin there to an obscene degree. Pressing a kiss to his temple, you dragged the fingertips of your free hand up and down the length of his spine in a soothing roll. "Just a little longer, then I promise. You can be good for me for just a bit longer, can't you?"

He all but sobbed, and you felt another gush of hot slick filling your core as his length swelled somehow larger. It pressed against all of your most sensitive spots, pleasure sparking behind your eyelids as he gripped your hip just tight enough to bruise. "I can, I can be good, I can. I love you. I love you- ohhh, I love you so much, please."

"I love you too, Vash." Another featherlight kiss against his skin left him whining, words trailing off into babbled nonsense. "So good. My good, good boy.~"

[galactiquest]

We all know how touch starved Knives is but what if his s/o was also touch starved to the point of clinging on to him like a kola or a backpack. Just thought it may be funny that he's just acts like it's just the norm walking around with his s/o hanging off him.

Touch-starved Knives? I'm already there. I'm in the theater, Anon. I've got my popcorn and my large drink and I'm ready.

This idea was so cute to me I decided to write you some little imagines and a bite-sized ficlet, too! Hope you enjoy!

Millions Knives x Reader: Touchy

Content Warnings: None again, just tooth-rotting fluff. Doesn't have any specific Knives incarnation in mind, since they're all ever-so untouched and in need of touching.

First off, don't expect him to outright admit anything, ever. Knives is very much a "if I don't think about it, it'll go away" kind of guy. So there's no way he'll ever come up to you and be like hey, guess who didn't get enough skin-to-skin contact as a growing youth, this guyyyy. But do expect him to start getting clingy once he realizes he can.

It's like getting your first taste of your new favorite food. Now that you've had it, you can't get enough. Suddenly he's pressing his hand up to yours while standing next to you (not handholding, he tried this once and got overwhelmed and had to go bite something for a while). Or he's hovering behind you, resting his head on yours. Or he's laying next to you, tracing patterns across your arm/shoulder/back/whatever's available and allowed to be touched.

It's one thing if you're fine with touch. But if you're touch-starved like him, on the other hand? You're trying to sap that same affection from him. Since he's quick to overwhelm (as previously stated) it can be hard at times, but he slowly, surely, gets used to the sensations of pressure and touch that aren't violent or painful, just kind and pleasurable.

So, the touch becomes more constant, more level, more in-tune with each other. It starts feeling very natural. And that natural-ness feels great.

Hugs. So many hugs. That feeling of pressure between the two of you is relaxing and reassuring. (Also you totally get pressed into those "airbags" of his if you know what I mean.) He's so precise with his movements that he can hold you at the exact tightness that makes you feel the best. Who needs a weighted blanket when you have the Compression Boyfriend?

Koala backpacking? Absolutely. 100%. Crawl all over this man. Crawl up him like a vine. He's so used to it by now, he just lets it happen, even in the middle of work. Sometimes he'll pretend you're not there, just for the giggles. Completely straight-faced, but makes you laugh like mad.

If this is Stampede Knives we're specifically talking about (though I personally think the other Knives do this too) then you get to sit next to him, or even on his lap, while he's at the piano. No naughty business--just being close to each other while he plays the keys. Or maybe he'll ghost his hands over yours and show you how to play/follow your playing, if you already know how.

Alright, a little ficlet below the cut just for you.

"...My liege."

"What?"

Legato frowned at the sight before him. There was important business to be done, and here Master Knives was, fooling around. Letting you, the human he'd bonded with, crawl all over him like an insect.

"If nothing's amiss, Legato, then let's get to work." Knives huffed and picked up the paperwork from the table.

You shifted around slightly on his back, head resting on his shoulder, watching as he shuffled through the papers. This was one of your little games with him--you'd hang out on his back, literally, and he'd pretend you weren't there. He didn't care about the game, really, but it made you laugh. And if it made you laugh (one of his favorite sounds, if he had any), it was worth it.

"...Master Knives."

"Spit it out."

"Get that human off your back."

Knives growled. "That human has a name, you know. Besides, there's no human on my back."

You stifled a laugh as you looked at Legato, mouth twisting downwards in a frown.

"Yes, there is." Legato pointed. "They're right there!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Knives shook his head, then turned around to procure some more files from a shelf. As he turned, you looked back to Legato and stuck your tongue out at him.

"You arrogant little--"

"Legato," Knives grunted. "If you mean to insult me, I'll gladly slice you open."

Legato fumed, then finally spoke again. "Not at all, my liege."

"Good." Knives leaned over to rub his head against yours for just a moment, then returned towards Legato. "Then, let's get to work."

End Notes: I have a soft spot for Knives. And a soft spot for Knives learning to love, well, love. This is also dedicated to my friend who lets me shout about Knives at them. You're the best, K!

[2kmps]

vash pets your head to send you to sleep, but asks you something important before he does.

notes; 1.1k, very tender vash, tristamp coded, not proofread. wrote this in my car @ 2am, freaking out every two seconds bc was that a person or just my eyes? 👁️👁️

layers of dust reaching across entire sprawls of bedsheet was a normal thing you came across in every inn you visited. no man's land had a way of making everything inhospitable, from the unforgiving terrain of valleys of sand, stone and bleached bones, down to the crevices between slabs of wood underfoot filled with debris and the pillows under your head exacerbating dry fits of coughing while beige granules clung to your throat.

vash was far more accustomed to those conditions than you were, having lived that way for over a century—an earnest confession you still weren't sure you believed. like everyone else on this godforsaken landscape, you had learned to acclimate during your harrowing travels with him, forced to take the heat deep in your skin to your marrow, the dirt and sand into the brittle branches in your lungs.

"want me to shake out the sheets for you?" vash was always courteous, did his best to lessen the blow of suffering you endured while with him. from the beginning, he had never been comfortable with you there, tried running off more times than you could count, but you were smart and determined so he never succeeded.

he didn't wait for you to respond, finding that you were arranging your bags near the door in case of the need of a quick escape. maybe it was guilt or pity, but he slipped his fingers beneath the thin sheets and whipped them out until all the dust knocked off of them. "this place isn't as bad as the last one. you'll sleep pretty good tonight, I think. can you grab my sleeping bag?"

"there's plenty of room on the bed, vash." you didn't make a motion for his bags. in your hands now was a set of linen nightclothes. "give your back a rest. sleep on the mattress for once."

his look was almost incredulous, almost as though you had said something outrageous. "I won't make you sleep on the floor. I don't mind, really!"

"I never said I was sleeping on the floor." you said, inflectionless, eyes half-lidded from the weight of fatigue and soreness behind them. "we're gonna be out on the desert for hours tomorrow. I can't have you die out there because you wanted to sleep on wood."

certain arguments vash didn't try to win, this was one of them, namely because he wasn't actually interested in the floor. so, some thirty minutes later he laid there on the stiff, musty mattress with you, taking in all the smells of age and misuse in his dry nostrils while trying not to open his mouth too wide to suck in any sand.

"not the most comfortable." he mumbled, shifting onto his back after lying on his side for a few minutes. "you sure you want me up here with—"

"it's fine, vash." again, without betraying yourself with a change in tone, you reassured him. you said it to him with your eyes closed, facing him, your back flush to the wall to give his larger body more space. "don't worry so much. just try to sleep for once."

it didn't come easy to him, this you knew. inevitably, he'd be up and around the inn or just outside of it at some point. sleep was a mortal enemy and an elusive love affair to him, a challenging dichotomy that left him tired and worn most of the time. he felt all of it ache in his joint, drag his eyelids down, sit on his shoulders as though his sins weren't enough of a burden.

you saw it and you pitied him, though you didn't have the brashness to say so.

just then, you flinched hard enough to make the bed jerk when his hand touched your head. he apologized quietly, not removing himself from you and let the warmth of his appendages seep through your hair into your scalp, gave you time to familiarize with how it had so much weight to it.

"do you ever regret your decision?" he started stroking your head in short, smooth motions, flattening your hair against your crown. "regret traveling with me, I mean."

you weren't sure why he was asking this during bedtime, but coaxed you to crack your eyes at him, proving you were still awake. his made of brilliant azure we're looking back at you, somehow piercing through the inky night straight into you. they had an eerie, otherworldly glow to them, almost.

"I dunno." you are honest, unsure of the kind of answer he was looking for. did he want comfort, or was he going to try to bail on you again? it had been a while since he last tried. "I dunno. I don't mind it most of the time. you're a good guy, vash, you don't deserve to be all alone in this world."

his hand stopped, but his fingers splayed out a little more. the corners of his eyes started to narrow, crinkles forming in the corners. you couldn't handle how softly, so sweetly he was looking at you now.

"you gave up everything, though." he said, smoothing his hand along that same path on your head again. "you shouldn't have given up your entire life—your career just to…"

he didn't want to finish. your eyes were open fully, the whites of them glistening at him in the dim moonlight.

"you shouldn't have given it all up to be with me." it sounded so unnatural to him, like it was some unfathomable, convoluted thing he had had no business putting a voice to. "nothing—no one is worth that. I'm not worth that."

in these moments, you wished he would let you touch him. all you wanted to do was feel the warmth of your bodies meld together, wrap your arms around him so he couldn't leave you alone in that dusty, dark room, and so he knew he wasn't alone.

"don't talk like that," was all you could bring yourself to say, even though you didn't think it was amiss.

the shadows around his mouth deepened, his smile just a little higher than it usually was. his thumb moved towards your temple, callused pad stroking the skin there, tempting you to lean into his touch even more.

parts of you wanted him to kiss you, because you caught his eyes wavering at times, unsticking from your gaze to sweep lower beneath his thick lashes. you knew he was looking at your lips, and you thought that maybe you had made the mistake of looking first.

he never acted on that as much as you wished he would, but he did keep his hand on you until the gentle motions on your hair finally lulled you into slumber.

pls comment or reblog if you enjoyed! 🫰🏻

[merbear25]

I feel like Vash's hair is super soft. I'd love for him to put his head in my lap and let me run my fingers through it. I'd give him gentle scalp massages. Wanna make him feel at ease and at peace for once.

I want to just enjoy his company and be able to look down at his face and see how lovely he is. Knowing how Vash would feel about compliments, the moment would be shared in a comfortable silence so as not to accidentally make him recall his past regrets or cause any self-loathing to resurface.

Vash is so wonderful and it hurts that he cannot even bear to allow himself to be open to the idea of that. The idea of being cared about and appreciated is an unattainable desire of his.

This is why a moment like this is okay to savor with only quiet breaths, slow blinks, and warm touches. If I can't tell him how much he means to me, I want to show him.

[makoflower]

.・゜-: ✧ pretty

vash x reader

you let vash know what you think

warnings; mild cursing

a/n; rewatching tristamp and the urge to do this was strong whenever his face was on the screen. so welp this was born <3 I have no shame

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Vash the Stampede.

He was a vision to behold with his tousled blond mane that seemed to have a life of its own, falling in charming disarray around his face. His piercing sapphire-blue eyes sparkled mischievously, revealing a playful glint that danced in their depths. His boyish features and carefree grin gave him a youthful and almost puppy-like charm that was hard to resist.

He had no business being so attractive.

After spending the last ten minutes admiring him, feeling your impatience build, you found yourself unable to hold back the urge to approach him.

Spontaneously, you closed the distance between you and Vash, your eyes narrowing as you reached out and aggressively grabbed him by the collar, pulling him towards you. You could feel his surprised gaze on you as you locked eyes with him while your brow furrowed in determination as you gave a snort.

"Vash," you said, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and admiration. "Do you have any idea how fucking pretty you are?"

Vash blinked at you, clearly taken aback by your sudden display of boldness. His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he stammered, "Uh, I-I, um, thank you?"

You tightened your grip on his collar, your frustration growing. "No, you don't understand. You're not just 'handsome' or 'attractive'. You are drop-dead gorgeous, breathtakingly stunning, and it's infuriating!"

Vash's eyes widened, and he looked at you with a coalescence of confusion and curiosity. "I… I don't know what to say…"

You leaned in closer, your grip on his collar not relenting. "Well, you better start getting used to compliments because I won't let you forget how stunning you are. It's like looking at a goddamn work of art, and it's driving me insane!"

Vash's lips parted, but he seemed at a loss for words, his cheeks now a deeper shade of pink. You took a moment to appreciate the effect your words had on him, but then you let go of his collar and took a step back, regaining your composure.

"Anyway," you mentioned casually, as if it was inconsequential, "I just thought you should know."

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Vash standing there, still looking bewildered.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Here for the Nicholas Woflwood content!! I would love a request about the reader flustering Nicholas if you’re game

Oh I’m absolutely game. Also apologises for being silent for a bit in terms of writing; I’ve just had to get through some stuff at work which left all of us a lil tired/ fatigued afterwards.

Nicholas had a tendency of getting under your skin with his teasing, his weird little nicknames that he’d come up for you and such but you have yet again failed to even get under his whilst trying to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You’ve tried everything;

You’ve called him popcorn lung

You’ve teased him about the massive cross-machine gun he always carried.

Mocked him for not wearing socks with his shoes and even if he were, why the fuck did he choose to wear ankle socks? Did he hate himself that much?

However you were always greeted with his cocky smirk, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips and his eyes twinkling mischievous from behind his shades, “you’re trying too hard sweetheart.” He would then playfully retort before patting your shoulder and going back to whatever he was doing beforehand. Leaving you a little perturbed and frustrated.

Fortunately for you, the opportune moment came when you, Vash, Meryl, Roberto and Nicholas were walking through a town you came across on your travels for a quick bite to eat and Meryl and Nicholas were having their usual -in Meryl’s case- one sided disputes. Why this was so fortunate for you was because during their dispute, Nicholas cockily decided to walk backwards with that handsome smile still plastered on his face as poor Meryl played well into his trap; Unaware of the fact that just up ahead was a staircase that would lead you into the lower areas of town.

“When will you ever admit that your wrong about something?” Meryl exclaimed.

“You make a great question little lady, but I don’t have an wander for that for I am never wrong.” Nicholas replied, lying through his teeth as he flicks away another cigarette bud at her way; watching in humour as she ducked before it could hit her before looking at him with a glare as she ranted at him about the dangers of flicking an cigarette bud. “Are you that careless of what you could’ve potential set aflame?!” The undertaker merely shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner which didn’t make matters any better.

The closer and closer you got to the staircase the more devilish thoughts popped into your head about not wanting to warn Nicholas. You saw from the corner of your eye that Vash was about to open his mouth when you nudged him in the side as a mean to silence him. “Don’t.” You whispered and Vash only looked at you confused.

“Why? He’s going to hurt himself if he doesn’t.” The blonde asks.

“He’s not.” You replied shortly.

“How do you know that?” Vash asks again, not understanding where you were going with this.

“I’m going to fluster him.” You told him as though it was obvious but it seemed to the blonde that it didn’t. You sighed and only said, “just watch.”

Just as you about to descend the staircases, you did so that you were next to Nicholas which made him smirk when he caught sight of you standing so close, that he couldn’t help himself. “There’s all this space and yet you choose to stay close to me? I’m honoured but don’t you think it’s giving people the wrong idea-“ just about as he was finishing his sentence; Nicholas’ foot caught on the edge of the concrete staircase and was about to loose his footing when you swiftly moved to cradle the male against your chest.

“You were saying, Princess?” You asked as you watched as Vash, Meryl and Roberto stopped to look back at you both. Vash looked stunned whilst Meryl and Roberto looked smug. Nicholas on the other hand was an embarrassed and flustered mess within your arms. “Let go of me.” He utters, not wanting for you to see him so uncharacteristic. You hummed in thought before looking back at him, “if I did that then you’ll get hurt,” you then leaned closer to his face to whisper, “and I don’t want to see a single scratch on my pretty boy’s face.”

You swore that Nicholas nearly let out the equivalent of a whimper at your words as he looked away from you to swallow thickly. Speechless. You chuckled at this and helped him the rest of the way down the staircase where the rest were waiting for you.

“What was that?” Meryl asked you when she moved to your side as Roberto and Vash moved to Nicholas’ who hasn’t taken his gaze off of you. “Just payback for all the times he’s teased me.” You stated, winking at Nicholas and watching in amusement as he stood a little straighter and averted his eyes elsewhere.

[jinwoosungs]

{ 99 }

the man who carries sunshine in his veins.

vash x fem.reader

story specific tags: @bunny-kio

meeting vash was like being exposed to the warmth of the sun-

and it was a meeting that you weren't going to forget, nor regret, any time soon.

the shifting sands felt blowing across no man's land was close to stinging at your eyes, disrupting you from your slumber as you winced. the cold air seeming to blow across the desert landscape was what ultimately forces you to instinctively take cover, inching your form closer to the young man that slept beside you.

upon feeling his warmth seep into you, you allow yourself to let out a quiet sigh and spend this time to admire vash when he was the most vulnerable. his signature sunglasses were tucked somewhere within the confines of his red coat. his calm, blue-green eyes hidden beneath closed eyelids whilst his lips were parted as soft breaths were felt tickling your skin.

lifting up a hand, you gently grace at his soft features, feeling soft giggles escape from the confines of your throat as your voice whispers to him. "thank you, for if it weren't for you, i surely would have died while being buried within these sands..."

you trail off and allow the memories to wash over you, bringing you back to the day where your eyes first laid eyes on him-

the moment where your soul felt the warmth of the sun for the first time.

it was difficult to survive out on your own while in the midst of no man's land. surrounding you were sands that seemed keen on drowning you as your boots seemed to sink within such heated depths. the sweltering sun did little to appease the sweat that runs down your form, making the clothes cling to you like a second skin that you couldn't peel away from.

the stark contrast of the heated days and the cold, lonely nights whilst spent in such a desert were truly taking a toll on you. you had always been alone, not quite fitting in anywhere nor with anyone as you spent your days simply trying to survive when you found yourself castaway within the desert lands.

your usual activities for survival consisted of scavenging for any items you could find. what truly became a scarcity for you was coming across any sources of water. be it bottled or dripping from a leaking pipe, the search for such precious liquid to help with quenching your thirst was becoming quite the challenge for you-

which made your day particularly difficult.

you were dehydrated; that you were sure of as a haziness seemed to put cogs from within your mind. your heart was beating erratically as your whole body seemed to burn up in response to the sun that continues to beat down on your form.

the winds blowing across the lands makes you cough in response to how you had swallowed some grains of sand. your throat was parched, and your vision was steadily becoming blurry. your body ached as your muscles seemed to cramp with each step that you took, making it truly difficult for you to go on.

with a gasp, you succumb to your exhaustion and fall down to your knees. your breathing comes out as labored, the sweat seeping from your frame was making you feel even more fatigued. you lose your consciousness then, ready to simply die from dehydration as you allowed yourself to finally sleep after fighting for so long.

there was a darkness spreading through the depths of your heart and soul. you just felt so hopeless and alone. the same coldness that mirrors that of the nights spent in the desert was felt coursing through you when you finally resign yourself to falling into a deep slumber that you had no plans of awakening from-

only to feel something cold splashing against your skin just as you were close to drowning. you wince at such an odd sensation, eyebrows physically furrowing in response as a soft groan was elicited from your throat. all you wanted was to sleep; to rest and appease the weariness that was felt within your very bones.

"hey! come on, wake up! you can't sleep like this!"

this time, the splash came with a concerned voice, finally rousing you from your sleep as you slowly opened your eyes. your irises were lifeless, defeated almost, when you saw a young man with spiky, golden blond locks of hair looking down at you with pure concern in his gaze.

his eyes were hidden beneath sunglasses, but you swore you saw eyes that shared the same hues of a blue sky from beneath such shades. the stranger's lips were tilted downwards in a frown as he lifts the flask once more, allowing you to finally realized that it was water he was splashing on your face. when one of the droplets manage to slide down your cheeks and into your open mouth, you could feel the life slowly get back into you as your eyes widen in response.

the kind, yet strangely beautiful young man helps you sit up all while holding the flask filled with water towards your dry lips. "careful, take slow and steady sips. i don't want you to choke or anything." you follow his advice, even if it took you a herculean effort to simply take gentle and careful sips when you were parched for so long.

when the flask was emptied, you found that you had regained your strength as you were able to sit up, remaining close to your savior as he settles your form between his legs. your eyes were filled with gratitude for him, yet you struggled with finding the right words to say.

the young man was silent as well, but he had a smile appearing across his soft, yet handsome features. lifting up a hand, to gently grace against your features. such a gentle caress catches you off guard as you end up instinctively moving back, nearly falling in response-

only to have the man steady you as you felt something cool touching against your back. from your periphery, you could see the metal prosthetic arm that takes over the entirety of his left arm. seeing such a thing makes your heart ache in response. just what horrors and pain had this young man been through to warrant him wearing a prosthetic arm?

"what's your name?" his voice was soft, as if reading your mind based on your expression alone when he asks his question after spending quite some time in silence. meeting his curious gaze, you relinquish the syllables that make up your name to him, earning a smile from the young man as such a soft visage was enough to make your heart race in response. he says your name for a few more times, repeating them in a way as if to cherish such syllables before telling you his own name.

"it's nice to meet you! and- well, you can call me vash, if you want...?"

his smile was sheepish now, making you giggle in response- such a happy sound even catching you off guard as you held your hands over your lips in response. for some odd reason, you felt embarrassed, but the sounds of vash's own laughter was enough to make such feelings disappear.

gently, he removes your hands away from your lips, making it impossible to hide the sudden grin that graces your features as his own smile paints his expression, "don't hide your laughter, it actually sounds really...really sweet to me."

your heart was filled with joy just then, the icy cold loneliness slowly retreating from you as you allowed the rays of sunshine to melt the iciness away from the depths of your heart. you were becoming enamored with the man who seemed to carry sunshine within his very veins, and you were certain that had it not been for him, then your life would have taken a dire turn.

"i- vash, thank you so much, for helping me. for saving me when i needed it the most."

his eyes widen in response to your words, detecting how your voice had taken on such a soft yet reverent quality. and the way you were looking at him-

well...

it made him feel like he were the most important person to you, like you were somehow captivated by him.

such pure and raw emotions being exuded from your gaze was enough to make him smile once more in response. being mindful of your semi-exhausted state, he stands back to his full height while taking you with him. somehow knowing that you were alone in this world, vash asks if you would like to join him in his own travels-

and truly, you would be a fool not to accept his offer.

so here you were, still close to vash as he kept you by his side. the more time you spent with him, the more you felt as though you were losing your heart to him. you knew that vash held your heart within his hands, but you weren't brave enough to come clean to him when it came to your true feelings for the young man.

yet, you couldn't deny that vash truly cared for you, at least, in a way that a good friend should care for their friends. but your heart sang for him, and you found it hard to keep your emotions in check when it came to him.

vash seemed to lead a lonely existence, building walls around his heart that you wished more than anything to break down. you wanted nothing more than to share his burdens; to listen to whatever aches he was going through while getting to the source of why he was traveling across such dead lands to begin with. the gratitude you felt for him when he saved you that day simply served as a starting point for your feelings for him, and you wanted nothing more than to remain by his side for the rest of your days.

your yearning must have made you act on an impulse when your hand reaches out to gently touch at his sleeping face again. your fingertips lightly caress at his cheekbones, but this time he actually feels your touch. vash was felt stirring just the slightest bit as he lets out a soft groan. his arms were still loosely wrapped around your form, providing you some warmth while in the midst of the cold, desert air as you held your breath, witnessing vash waking up.

you let out a soft gasp when vash fully opens his eyes, revealing his blue-green eyes to you. a shyness was felt coursing through your very veins as you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. a sleepy expression paints vash's expression, and his gentle beauty was so mesmerizing to you that you found it hard to speak.

you watch as the sleepy expression slowly morphs away from vash's features, being replaced with something unreadable. you couldn't tell what was floating within the depths of his mind, and a part of you wanted to speak and ask him if anything were bothering him. yet before you could speak those words, you felt vash lift his hand to brush against your strands of hair.

he appears nervous, his expression filled with an anxiety that was certainly out of character for him. letting out a soft whisper of your name, you listen as he heaves out a sigh before telling you,

"i'm sorry for this."

you weren't given the chance to ask him what he meant before he suddenly surges forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. your mind was spinning as you felt fireworks going off, making your heart pounding in response as you felt the pure, unbidden happiness suddenly coursing through you. vash had his eyes clenched shut, and you had to swallow back a soft moan. you end up shutting your own eyes in response as you slowly kissed him back, allowing his hands to delve themselves within your locks of hair as he seemed to pull you even closer to him.

vash ends up pulling away from the kiss first, earning a tiny whine from you. he chuckles at the sound of your neediness for his affections, gazing at you with a fondness as he allows his fingertips to trace at your lips.

"i-i like you, m-maybe feel even something stronger than a mere like." vash lets out an adorable cough, clearing his throat as his shy smile returns, "and i...i take it that you feel the same way?"

you allow the light sounds of your laughter to fill the night air, inching closer as you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. "of course... but perhaps, i'm more inclined to admit that my feelings for you run so much deeper than a mere 'like,' vash."

with your own admission lingering in the air, vash shares a few more soft yet sweet kisses with you. he only stop when you close your eyes once more, letting out a yawn as you cuddled yourself even closer to him. feeling you pressed so intimately close against his chest makes vash smile as he engulfs you within his embrace.

whilst you slept, vash allows his eyes to trail towards the wide expanse of the sky, admiring the twinkling stars while thanking whatever entity was above him for allowing him to meet you; for allowing his path to cross with yours.

someday soon, he will tell you of his life and his goal of finding his brother, of how he had experienced such loneliness and pain-

but for now, vash will simply bask in your presence all while thanking fate for giving your heart to him.

a.n. - this goofball is so lovable, i really wanted to write something so fluffy and sweet for him 🥹 this is currently unedited, but i will fix any glaring errors once it is posted.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[halcyon-writings]

4 am convos really fueled me dusting this out from my drafts, thank @cylas and @ryoskuna for this expect more trigun probably fdjksfjsdk

nav.

You wake up to a new weight on your chest, with your eyes blearily opening as they meet familiar blues. Slowly adjusting to the darkness of the motel room, you notice the outlaw sniffling.

"Red...? What are you doing?" Your voice is hushed, just slightly raspy from sleep. Yet you feel a little concerned. Since when was he ever like this?

Almost immediately, his eyes well up. Voice blubbering as his arms wrap around you, the best impression of a puppy dog's eyes remains on his face. Nothing like the fearsome reputation that preceded him.

You're a little more awake now. The concern is far more prominent.

"Vash?" You press on, hands moving to cup his cheeks in your hands.

Your sleep-addled mind makes out words such as "leg moved" and "love" before you piece it together. One of your hands moves as your finger presses against his lips, shushing him.

"Vash, I need you to slow down a little bit. I am half awake, I don't even know what time it is, and I almost thought something bad happened. Deep breaths, hotshot, deep breaths."

You see his cheeks flush at your nickname for him. The blond's cheeks puff out as he pouts, however, his expression turns a little embarrassed. He sits up, using your lap as a seat, both of his pointer fingers pressing together as he avoids your gaze. Quietly, he mumbles. You raise an eyebrow.

"Hotshot..." You chide gently.

"Well, we were cuddling like normal," He starts, and you nod, before he continues, "And you fell asleep first. But then you moved my leg off of you and so I was wondering if you still loved me..."

You can't help the bark of laughter that leaves your mouth, and he pouts again even as his eyes water.

"Don't laugh, this is a serious thing!" He whines. If he were standing, you would be certain he'd stomp his foot.

"Sorry, sorry," Consolingly you pat his thigh, "But if you're really wondering, I do still love you. Blubbering voice and all. Now sleep. It's late," You yawn slowly and you let him indulge just a little as he curls into your side once more.

[angelltheninth]

Vash Being Yours For a Few Weeks

Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, temporary lovers, crushes, saying goodbye, angst, kissing, mentions of starting a family, implied sex

A/N: I'm going from place to place around Italy and I'm already tired so I can only imagine what it must have been like for Vash.

Vash getting involved with you for those brief few weeks while he's in town was both the best and the worst time of your life

The best because you got to know the best guy a woman could ever want

Right off the bat Vash was polite, funny, caring, protective and on hell of a lover in bed, or really any lonely spot you found

Both of you knew he wasn't staying, he made as much clear before getting involved

As open as he was about the things he's seen while traveling he was just as secretive about his personal past, his arm and scars

You didn't pry, it would only make him closed off and you wanted him for as long as possible

He was eager to see as much of your little town as possible, meet all the people, try your favorites

He even momorized the streets and houses pretty well although deep down it was a survival instinct of his that drove him to do so

Made sure he had something to remember you by

Sadly he couldn't leave you with much, he is the most wanted man in the world after all

Did make a lot of memories with you kn those few weeks, all good, some funnier then others

Running while pulling his pants up while you wipe your mouth and tease him thst he shouldn't have tried to make it last, or laying in his chest feeling tired and full still and warmth seeping from between your thighs

You aren't worried about kids, he made jt clear that first night that he was unable to have them, it would bd bad if there were all the little versions of him running around after he left

If he ever did have a family of his own there are pleanty of kids to adopt once he stops running

Saying goodbye to him was hard but you knew he would't stay forever, he does promise to remember your name

Well he better after he'd been moaning and growling it for the past weeks

Should he ever pass through here again he'll come and visit, if you're still single you can have another fun few weeks

[lateraniansweets]

okay hear me out hear me out

Nai learning how to cook for you.

Millions Knives, big scary Plant man busting out one of those how-to-cook-for-beginners cookbooks and attempting to cook you a meal.

Since he himself doesn't it he doesn't quite Get It. Like why do humans spend so much energy and resources to prepare their food? Why are there certain foods that are meant for this and that occasion?

Still, he tries his best to whip something up and he decides to go with something he deems suitable. Think, a dish that's delicious but not too complicated to make.

At some point, while preparing a meal he's low-key questioning his sanity because again big scary Plant man is trying to cook for a human. Ew.

(Nai is smitten and down bad but he'd rather die than admit that.)

He won't burn down the kitchen or something but he'll accidentally damage the counter once or twice while chopping something up.

His name is literally Millions Knives, HE CAN MAKE A MILLION KNIVES but he's subpar at using kitchen knives. If he's cutting up potatoes or carrots into squares it'll look like shit fr.

Nai will set the table up all fancy once he's done cooking.

Though he only sets up one plate and that's for you and for you only. He doesn't eat, eating is below him.

(He is watching you eat happily wee)

Eventually, cooking becomes a regular thing for you. Sometimes you'd do it together with Nai doing the meal prep and dishes while you did the actual cooking.

Sometimes and I mean SOMETIMES Nai does eat something and its usually pastas or noodles.

Man hates the feeling of chewing or eating in general so consider it a miracle that he even CHOSE to eat.

He does pick up baking at some point and you guys had banana (are banana's even a thing in trigun) bread for WEEKS.

Overall, he's a great cook but don't expect him to make his own variations/recipes.

OKAY THAT WAS LOWKEY A MESS BUT I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT. this might be ooc but who cares knives needs a hobby that isn't ominously playing two person piano pieces in this weird space onesie as he plans the destruction of humankind.

[pinkanonwrites]

Sloppy-Style

MY WOLFWOOD/READER FIC IS HEEEERE!!! I may have had a bit too much fun writing this, but i think it’s a masterpiece so it’s more than worth it. I haven’t had anyone proofread this so if you see any typos no you didnt. <(￣︶￣)> 

Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader, NSFW, 4,200+ words, PLANT!Reader, alien biology, aphrodisiac, fingering, AFAB-ish Reader but no pronouns used, Vaginal sex, sweaty, sticky, messy, and affectionate, the four best things for a smut fic to be!~

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

In Wolfwood's eyes, you were a remarkably easy person to read.

Maybe it was a PLANT thing, you and Vash both seemed to wear your emotions right on your sleeve wherever you went, whoever you met. And though Nicholas wasn't a fan of that particular brand of vulnerability on himself, on you he found it to be at least somewhat refreshing. That must have been why it threw him so off-kilter when you seemed to be hiding something.

You'd been quieter than usual the past few days, and if Wolfwood were a less observant man there was a chance he wouldn't even have noticed. Sure you laughed along to Vash's antics and joined the dinnertime chatter like usual, but the spaces in between that would normally be filled with your thoughts and queries were starting to come up uncomfortably silent. You were jumpier too, that was impossible to ignore. Not just around strangers, but bumping into Meryl, Vash, Milly, even himself seemed to have you jolting away like you were going to bolt right out of your own skin.

And when your group finally arrived in the next town and you'd quietly tugged Meryl aside, asking to have your own room for the night since you weren't feeling well? He couldn't help but be a little bit curious.

So when Vash and the girls were discussing where they wanted to eat for dinner, Wolfwood waved them off, insisting that he'd meet up with them at the bar that evening. As soon as the trio were out of eye and earshot, he let himself quietly up to the door of your room.

"Ey, birdie." He gave your door a few rough taps with the backs of his knuckles. "Seriously, what's eatin' you? You've been weird all day."

"Whu-Wolfwood?"

You sounded… almost out of breath? Jiggling the brass handle a bit, he found the door to be locked too.

"Nonononono, don't come in! I'm fine, I'm fine!"

Your feet pattered unsteadily across the floor as you rushed to keep the door shut. Your shoulder thumped against the wood, and he could hear your shaky, uneven breathing beyond it. Wolfwood's frown deepened, brow furrowing at… at whatever you think you're up to right now.

"If you're sick or something I'm gonna be real pissed off!" He rattled the doorknob again and you squeaked, hands coming down to clasp it. "You may have everyone else fooled, but you're actin' weird lately. And don't think I won't blow this door down to get to the bottom of it."

Why did he care so much? This wasn't a part of his mission, his plan. All he was supposed to do was keep needle-noggin from getting his head blown off by wayward mercenaries, now here he was trying to play Mr. Fix-It for some other Independent he wasn't even aware existed until recently. He's about ready to give up and shoot the lock of your door in when he hears a strangled whimper from your side of the wood partition.

"...You alright?" He asks, the irritated edge dropping quickly off of his tone.

"...No."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You whine again, something about the tone zinging heat through Wolfwood's mind. Before he can try and question you a third time the door unlatches with a soft click, and you peer at him through the gap between it and the doorframe.

Your forehead is beaded with sweat, and you're all but panting as you clutch the front of your oversized white linen nightshirt. There's a scent in the air that hits him as soon as you open the door, nearly bowling him over. It's thick, heady- a deep earthy scent but there's almost a touch of something… sweet, to it. It's intoxicating.

"You really need to leave." You tried to insist, but your voice sounds like that's the last thing you want Wolfwood to be doing. 

"The hell's going on with you?" He pressed on, and when you try to push the door shut again his hand clutches the edge and forces it, gently but insistently, back open. You stumble back a few steps as he lets himself into the room and shuts the door. There's feathers strewn all about, like you'd exploded a down pillow, and that scent is damn near strong enough to bring him to his knees. 

"It's- It's complicated."

"Try me. I'm smarter than you think."

You wring the fabric of your nightshirt, twisting it in your hands as you shift idly back and forth. Though you struggle to make eye contact with him Wolfwood can feel your gaze raking up and down his body. For once in his life he feels distinctly not like the predator he's been made to be, but the prey beneath your steely eyes.

"I'm… blooming."

Wolfwood's lack of response is too awkward for you to just sit in, so your words stumble forward unabated.

"I thought it was just something they'd induce in the lab. Chemical injections to encourage reproduction. I didn't know it could happen outside of the tanks."

Induce in the lab.

Chemical injections.

Encourage reproduction.

Oh.

"So you're like, uh-" He was prepared for any possible outcome except, it seems, this one. "Horny?"

You groan, burying your face in both hands. When the group had discovered you, everyone had uncomfortably ignored the little green check mark in your digital files next to the line 'Approved for Breeding.' Frankly Wolfwood hadn't wanted to think about the implications, much less consider that they'd come up again in a different context. But now he's forced to accept the uncomfortable reality of the situation, though he doubted it could be more uncomfortable for himself than it must be for you.

But damn, you looked good though. Smelled good too. Was that a weird PLANT thing? Like hell if he knew, but he couldn't help from eating you up with his eyes the same way you were doing to him.

…Did you just say something to him?

"Sorry, uh, what was that?"

You huff, drawing your lower lip under your teeth and wringing the fabric ever tighter in your hands. Your incessant tugging was stretching the neckline out, exposing more and more of your sweaty, jutting collarbone and- focus, Wolfwood, focus. "So you should probably leave before things get any worse. I'll be fine in a couple days."

"A co- Sorry, a couple days? Damn, birdie." He wasn't above laying low for a couple days in a small town like this, and he was sure everyone else would enjoy the break from the chaos too. But a week straight for you? Locked in your room, whimpering, writhing, desperate…? Okay maybe it wasn't such a bad image after all. But Wolfwood hardly wanted you to torture yourself like that. "Anything you can do about it?"

"Not by myself, no." His eyebrows fly up, and only then do you realize how that sentence actually sounded. "That wasn't-! I didn't mean-!"

"Whoa whoa, hey, take it easy. Don't freak yourself out over nothin'." He means for it to be a soothing gesture when he cups your cheek, but your knees buckle like they're going to give out completely and you shudder into his touch. "...Y'know, I'm not opposed either. If you're lookin', I mean."

You don't flinch away at his words, nor do you stutter or stammer or gasp. But your cheek flushes hot under his touch and when you blink your bleary eyes open your pupils are blown so wide they eclipse the color of your iris almost completely. "Why's that?" You rumble, hands relaxing ever so slightly where they bunch the thin linen of your shirt.

"Maybe I don't like seeing a sweet little thing like you in pain, ever think of that?" His thumb traces the apple of your cheek and you breathe out a shuddering sigh. But there's still a hint of trepidation behind your gaze, something still a touch unsure.

"It's… it's a little different, down there. Not quite the same as a human."

He cracks a smarmy grin. "You got a hole?" You thump him on the chest with a flat palm and he chuckles, tapering off softly when you give him a tiny nod in response. "Then I'll figure it out. I'm pretty creative."

"You're a real perv for a holy man." You let out a small, breathless giggle, and holy man or not Wolfwood is ready to fall to his knees for you right then and there. "...Only if you can promise this won't make things weird."

"Pinkie promise."

Whatever bit of sanity you’ve been desperately clinging to in order to maintain this conversation seems to slip through your fingertips at his gentle insistence. You slump into his arms, clinging to the front of his suit jacket like a lifeline as you press your cheek into the bare valley of his chest. He leans back against the door to slot a knee between your thighs and you seat yourself like it’s second nature, hips rocking as you moan into his bare skin.

“That’s it, baby.” His hand cups the back of your head, fingers threading in your messy hair. “God, you’re aching for it, aren’t you?”

“W’lfwood,” You slur, mushed and messy, and he shudders as you lathe your tongue up the inner curve of his pectoral. “Kiss, kiss.”

“Alright, alright. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Sliding down the back of your head, his hand cups the base of your neck as you strain to kiss him, meeting in a wet, desperate fervor. Your tongue traces the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open himself up to you as your mouths meet. You're so soft, so much softer than he deserves. His hip is bumping against the door handle every time you roll your crotch against the meat of his thigh, the sharp insistent rattling joining the wet and breathy sounds of your mouth meeting his. You whimper and groan into each kiss like it pains you to part, even for a moment, and Wolfwood can already feel the knee of his slacks soaking through with your insistent arousal.

You might just devour him whole if he lets you go on like this. He doesn't think he'd even mind it.

But he's starting to get a crick in his neck, and if he keeps rattling the doorknob like this eventually someone's gonna come a-knocking. So carefully, while disentangling himself from you as little as possible, he starts to lead you backwards towards your unmade bed. When your knees hit the edge of the mattress you take him with you, the unexpected show of force surprising but definitely not unappreciated as you drag him down onto the bed on top of you. Feathers fly as your bodies whump into the mattress, springs squeaking as he wrestles you into place beneath himself. Your mouths pull apart with a wet pop, and you whimper and lean towards him to reconnect them again even as he sits back on his knees.

"Shh, shh, don't worry, birdie." He purrs. One broad hand strokes down the curve of your belly, following the fabric of your nightshirt down to your mid thigh so he can hook two fingers underneath the hem. "I said I'd take care of you, didn't I? Well you gotta let me see what I'm working with first."

You chirp, honest to God chirp in response, chime-like and eager. Between the noises and the feathers, he's starting to think that 'birdie' nickname he chose for you was less of a fun coincidence and more some sort of divine intervention, a peek into his inevitable future. But frankly he's much more interested in the way you spread your legs for him ever further, tension pulling the hem of your nightshirt further up as you coo for his touch. He pushes it up the rest of the way for you and the fabric crumples and folds where it's bunched upon your stomach. You aren't wearing anything beneath it, and that's damn near enough to knock the wind out of him alone. But there's a thick, translucent glimmer all the way down your inner thighs, dripping from your core, and in a breathless headrush Wolfwood realizes in your arousal and desperation you'd slicked yourself all the way down to the inside of your knees. 

He finds his gaze and his hands raking up towards the apex of your thighs. You were telling the truth, it isn't exactly like a human's. But it's not too dissimilar either. Soft, pink petals fold outwards from your core like a blooming flower. They quiver as he drags his knuckles along the curve of your inner thigh, another glob of sweet-smelling fluid dripping from your hole as your breath hitches. At the top of the bloom he finds a swollen bud, standing to attention like it can't wait to receive his touch. Your clit, maybe? Or whatever the equivalent is. Either way, it's the perfect size for him to smooth under the calloused pad of his thumb, and when he does you let out a punched-out sob, stomach tensing as you curl towards his exploratory hand.

"Fuck… Aren't you a pretty sight? Trust me baby, you've got nothing to worry about." It's not nearly enough, but Wolfwood's never been good with words. He knows that you aren't human but right now? Right now you're ethereal. Hair encircling your head in a soft halo, surrounded by little drifting feathers, glistening with sweat and slick? And your eyes? God, your eyes…

"Wolfwood!" You're reaching for his lapels again, tugging weakly at the fabric to urge him to do something, anything. "Nicholas!"

"Deep breaths, I'm not goin' anywhere." He slid two fingers up through your folds, skirting around the edges of your hole. The mewl you let out crawls down the length of his spine and curls hot and needy in his gut; He's going to need to take his own deep breaths if he wants to not bust the second he gets inside you. "Here, just like this, birdie. That's it." He shuffles himself between your legs, pulling until you wrap them both around his hips and you're spread impossibly further open for him. "Fingers first, okay?"

"Nick.~" You're practically sobbing, but you nod in agreement despite yourself. A thick middle finger prods at your entrance, petals fluttering and shivering as your body opens up to him, sucking him in up to the second knuckle with hardly more than a slow, insistent press. The intrusion does little to quell the flame roaring in your lower stomach, only further stoking your desire as your pussy twitches and drools around the intruding digit. He gives it a slow, patient thrust, crooking it upwards towards your belly as he does and causing more warm slick to dribble out into his palm.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Leaking all over my hand and I haven't even gotten a second finger in yet." He can't help but tease you, even though he thinks you may already be too far gone to register it. Your body opens up to him so easily, hips rabbiting as he pinches your clit between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand, pulling back to press a second finger into you alongside the first. There's a little more resistance, but with how wet you are for him it isn't long before he's working them into you in a rhythmic pulse, slick squelching and spattering into his hand with each thrust. "You gotta cum for me first, alright? Then I'll fuck you just like you need it. You wanna cum for me, sweet thing?"

"Yes, yes!" Your hands scrabble wildly for the front of his shirt, nails raking down his bare chest as you tug him to meet you. You mash your mouth against his own, slick with spit and moaning into his as your teeth click harshly against each other's. "Mmfh, Wolfwood, Nick. Wanna cum, wanna cum please!"

"I'm not stopping you, birdie.~" He fights a smirk, crooking his fingers to grind the calloused tips against your soft, spongy walls. “Let go for me.”

But as much as he wants to watch your expressions as you tip over the edge for him, he's caught off-guard by a rough shredding noise as your back goes concave, wings bursting straight through the fabric of your nightshirt beneath you as you gasp and pulse around his fingers. Feathers explode into the still air as you writhe and gush and sob for him.

"Nick, Nick!" Scrabbling hands grip at his wrist but he keeps his fingers moving, massaging your shivering walls until the tension finally seems to melt from your body and you slump pathetically back onto the mattress with a final gush of slick warmth. "Nick, Nico…" You're so far gone for him, and it's too damn cute.

"So that's where all the feathers came from. Fancy that."

"Mmmrh… Ruined my shirt…" You grumble, whining again when he slowly pulls his fingers from your blooming core.

"Want me to buy you a new one? Just don't pick anything too pricey, we're still on a budget here." He pats the inside of your inner thigh in a manner that's supposed to be playfully patronizing, but the gentle jerk of your hips toward his touch just pulls another wry grin to his face. "Whoa there, darlin'."

You swat weakly at his hand, but there's no real malice behind it, not really. "Wha' am I, a Tomas?"

"Based on how hard you were riding my fingers, maybe I'm the Tomas- hey!" He's laughing as you swat at him again, leaning in to kiss the smile off your face. "Little brat.~ Maybe you don't need my help after all?"

"Nononono, don't go! Nico, please?" It's not like he's planning on going anywhere, not with your heels snug in the small of his back and your hands rumpling his unbuttoned shirt, but he lets you tug him back in as you nuzzle at his sweat-sticky collarbone with your nose. "Nick, you said you'd help…" Your wings strain to curl around him as well, cradling his body and yours with the massive feathery appendages as you pepper kisses down his neck. The shredded remains of your shirt slip from your chest as you arch towards him, and he quickly bundles it into a single fist and tosses it aside.

"Then maybe you better be good for me, hm? If you want me to take care of you."

"I do, 'm sorry. Please take care of me, Nick."

You sound so genuine, even more so than usual, and despite it just being some playful teasing he almost feels the slightest bit guilty. A warm kiss brushes your temple as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt, shucking it and the jacket off in one smooth motion to crumple somewhere onto the floor. 

"Don't worry birdie, you've got me. I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

You chirp for him again, arms encircling his neck as your fingers tangle in his shaggy black hair. Wolfwood’s hands fumble blindly with the button of his slacks, lips trailing the curve of your neck as he wrestles the waistband down, taking his boxers with it. Unrestrained, his cock springs free, dark and flushed and beading pre-cum at the tip. There’s a soft, wet slap as he taps it against your sticky cunt, grinding your clit down beneath his swollen head until you’re practically shivering with need, fingers twisting hard into his hair as you struggle to breathe steadily. He lets it slide once, twice over your dripping hole before you choke out another sob of his name and he finally relents, pressing until the head pops slickly into your waiting core.

“Nick…” Your content little coo and the full body shiver you give him in response is like an adrenaline shot directly to his ego. He feels like his head is full of cotton, thick and fuzzy and warm and it’s taking every little bit of clarity he’s able to grasp onto to not bust with just the tip of his cock inside your impossible heat. You’re certainly not helping, hips jumping to desperately take in more of him, fingernails just barely prickling at the base of his neck. He breathes out slowly through his nose, shaky, steadying, before pressing on. Inch by careful inch he slides into you, murmuring mindless soft nothings all the while (for both your sake and his sanity’s) until he can feel his hips bump gently against your own. Only then does he risk letting himself slip the slightest bit, grinding hard into you as his head massages a soft, spongy spot deep within your core. Fuck, he feels like he can feel your heartbeat in your pussy…

You murmur something again, it’s most likely his name, or another plea, but Nicholas is starting to lose his own carefully-cradled sanity himself. He draws back slowly, so slowly, your vice-like heat begging him not to leave, before snapping his hips forward in a sharp, punishing roll. The reaction is all he could have possibly wanted and more; You wail, your wings shiver, trails of fire rake down the expanse of his back where your fingernails dig in. 

He’s already dreading his own quick healing process, as any marks from you he’d gladly wear forever.

It doesn’t take him long to find a rhythm, one that trickles molten heat down the length of his spine and leaves you all but screaming his name. One of his hands cradles your hip as the other grasps blindly at the edge of the headboard, wood thunking heavily against plastered wood as it slams against the hotel room wall with each thrust. His lips, his teeth, his tongue, they find the curve of your jawbone in an equally messy display, scraping along soft skin and kissing away the sweat that beads there as the two of you sink together deeper into euphoria. The air smells of sweat and sex and cigarette smoke and fresh flora, and though Wolfwood knows at this point he’ll never get into heaven, never step one foot past those fabled pearly gates, this has to be the closest damn thing to it he’ll ever see in his lifetime.

“Touch yourself for me.” He growls, breath hot against your neck. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock, sweet thing.”

You sob again, sweaty hand wriggling between your pressed-together bodies to fondle your oversensitive clit. It’s hardly more than a barely-there brush before you’re cumming again, slick gushing around the point where your bodies meet as you somehow squeeze so impossibly tighter around him. He means to last longer, wants to last longer, but your body and your voice and the oh so gentle kiss you place upon his scruffy cheek as your wings come up to enfold him like he’s something to be revered, something to be cherished… 

“Fuck.”

He chokes out a curse as he spills into you, a slurry of hot cum and slick pooling low in your gut as his hips stutter, his breath goes ragged. Each unsteady jolt of his hips shoots off fireworks behind your eyelids, his thumb digging into the jut of your hip bone as he pants into the crook of your neck. You meet in another kiss, languid and open-mouthed and messy as his movements finally slow to a stop. When he pulls away again there’s a shimmering trail of saliva still connecting your mouth to his, and he tongues it off of his lower lip with an all-too-pleased smirk. 

“Feelin’ better yet, birdie?”

You nod and let out a soft, approving hum. Though something deep inside you still yearns as he carefully pulls out, soft cock slipping free to release a deluge of slick fluid between your legs. Luckily Nicholas doesn’t seem inclined to go much further than that, settling his chin into the valley of your chest with a content huff as your fingers find his hair once more. There’s less tugging this time though, and far more petting.

“Mmmh, you could put a guy to sleep like that if you aren’t careful. I still gotta clean you up, don’t I?”

“What a gentleman.~” You tease, drawing an amused snort from Nick’s lips.

“What can I say? I live to serve.” For once he truly lets himself relax, melting into your gentle touch and your warm, soft body beneath his own. “Fuck, I’m not even craving a smoke right now. You’re really something, you know that?”

“Want me to help you kick the habit?”

“You really want me to bend you over and fuck you sloppy-style every time I’m craving a hit?”

“Nick!” The snort you’d drawn from him earlier blossoms into full-chested laughter at your scandalized tone. You thump him on the shoulder with an open palm, a scolding little slap.

“Ahh, you’re no fun!” He chuckles, playful fingers pinching the fat of your outer thigh. “Alright then, let’s split a shower and hit the hay instead. I’m beat. How long’s this ‘blooming’ thing supposed to last when you’ve got someone to roll around with, anyway?”

“Not too long, another day at most. But don’t be mad if I wake you up in the middle of the night looking for some attention. You signed up for this, after all.”

“Darlin’, you can have my attention whenever you want.~”

[tomatoswup]

hello? 1

summary: walking through the deserts of No Mans Land, you encounter an odd creature in the sand

the plushie series: 1 , 2 , 3

warnings/tags: none, cute vash plushie rights!!!

A/N: im so sorry i just love this lil mf plushie bro im so excited when they ship them out ohmygodngklsdnfnsf also imagine small vash plushie being your companion sTOPPPP HE'S ADORABLEE

when you had first started traversing the sandy plains of the deserts of No Man's Land, you thought about the people you may run into, both known and unknown

"HELLOO!!!" A squeaky voice shouted.

Well, you had thought of "people" at first...

The....thing stared up at you, its tiny plushie hands waving around to get your attention, a cute little red poncho covering him like a blanket and blue beady stitched eyes looking at you in wonder. This..plushie? oddly looked like your crush, the infamous human typhoon, the one you hadn't seen in the last two years.

"H-Hello?" You stuttered out in disbelief as you crouched down, the cowboy hat you wore covering your eyes from the blinding suns, giving it the needed shade to observe the small thing. "How'd you get all the way out here?"

The little guy did a cute small twirl in place before running up to you "Thank god!" He said, his voice more high pitched than you had expected it to be "I thought I was gonna be stranded out here! Oh thank you!"

You couldn't help but cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the adoration you had for the cute poor thing.

lOOK AT HIM! OH MY GOD

He was so small and so.. "Oh my god you're adorable!" You gasped out as you put both of your hands out, the little plushie climbing up and onto your hand and into your palm.

"I was originally in a box with other plushies but.. I was the only one that was able to talk and move!" He chirped out "But when the truck was driving, I accidentally fell out..." He sighed animately, his small pudgy shoulders drooping down.

You tilted your head in curiosity, who the hell was mass producing Vash as a plushie? You wondered what Vash would've thought about this. To the thought of your former friend, you somberly smiled at the plushie "Hey, if you want, you can come with me, if that's okay. It'd be pretty mean to leave you out here little guy." The two nibs of his arms flew up to his mouth "R-Really?! Oh I would love that!" You giggled as he jumped up and down. But you came to a bit of a dilemna.

"Now...Where am I gonna put you?" You thought out loud, before another thought came to you "Do you get hot or anything like that? Or do you just not feel the heat?"

The plushie shook its head "Not really! It just feels really warm!"

"Oh good.." You breathed.

Now, where could you put him....Oh! You looked down to your chest to see the small pocket of your shirt "Maybe here?"

You put your hand up to the pocket of your shirt and... 'Vash' jumped in, rustling around before his head poked out and the nibs of his hands held the top of the pocket.

"Perfect! Now let's go!" You smiled out before fixing the bag on your shoulder and restarting your stride through the dry sand.

"...Can we get donuts?"

goddamn it...

[galactiquest]

Trigun x Reader Drabbles: Clothes-Stealing

Anyone else ever thought about taking your partner's clothes, or even having them take your clothes? It's something I've been thinking about for the Trigang for a bit... So here's some little drabbles!

Gender neutral reader--the only things assumed here are that you wear a t-shirt!

Vash the Stampede:

Vash, sweet as he is, isn't keen at first to admit that he's been taking your clothes. Without your permission or knowing. Maybe first it was a pair of gloves, then a handkerchief, and then... One of your shirts went missing. Yep, he's a stealer, alright. The thing is with Vash is that he's so comparatively massive to you (regardless of whether you're tall or short) that your shirts on him either don't fit at all, or look like crop tops. Now, on the inverse? Absolutely. Vash doesn't have a whole lot of shirts that he wears (he's usually in that leather-like gear) but if he does, he squeals a little on the inside if you wear it, because he thinks you look adorable engulfed in his clothing.

Also, he might let you borrow his jacket later on... Or might scoop you up and hold you inside of it. There's room for both of you!

Nicholas D. Wolfwood:

Wolfwood is a guy who would much rather take the "clothes-giver" role in the relationship. He primarily wears his suit getup, so prepare to either embrace the button-up dress shirts or to get his overcoat draped across your shoulders during the cold desert nights. (By the way, yes he does look stunningly handsome without the overcoat.) He's not necessarily preferenced towards wearing your clothes, but he did get caught with one of your shirts on one occasion. He immediately tried to explain it off by saying that his clothes were still in the wash and he needed something clean to wear... But he was definitely smiling about it a bit more than he should have been.

Meryl Stryfe:

As a sort of ground-level girlfriend type, she's oft to take your shirts. Since she's smaller than most, your shirts would probably hang off of her and go past her waist (though those the same size or smaller, she'd still want to take them!). Meryl thinks they're extra comfortable because they've been worn by you, not to mention they smell like you (whether you wear a certain kind of soap, deodorant, cologne, etc. or just have a natural smell) which makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside. She prefers to steal your stuff while you're changing, taking a shower, or otherwise undressing--she's not particularly sneaky about it. You can't get mad at her, though, because she really does look cute in your shirt, and when she yawns and stretches, it raises above her stomach, and... Well, it's snuggle time.

Milly Thompson:

Pretty similar to Meryl in the sense that she'd prefer to take your clothes rather than the other way around, but she also loves to offer her vest or overcoat to you if you're ever feeling cold or just need an extra layer. Since Milly is larger than most, some of your shirts might not fit her as well, but she looks beautiful as ever, there's no denying that. She loves to play around like this, too, claiming that she's you and she's the cutest partner in the whole wide world. Yes, she is endlessly adorable, and yes, you should keep letting her take your shirts. Even if she takes all of them.

[2kmps]

vash, in rare form, let's you take care of his wounds and realizes how much he craves your touch.

notes; 0.5k, details about wounds, trimax coded

"it's probably gonna hurt."

it brought him comfort to hear you say that, even though vash already knew that it would. the laceration in his back was already several hours old; the worst of the bleeding had been thwarted by the bulk of his clothing, adhering the fabric to his skin like glue until you carefully, carefully-- painstakingly peeled it off his body.

what remained was a long stripe parallel to his spine; it glowed red along the perimeter of mangled flesh, the inside of it mostly dark and dry at this point with touches of a fresh red quality to it that oozed when he moved too much. he had acclimated to the pain that came with it a long time ago, managing to steel himself against the sunlight beating down on him, forcing out reassuring smiles through clenched teeth ready to shatter.

the only thing that gave him away was when you slapped him across the back, a jovial greeting meant to be reciprocated, only for him to belt out the loudest scream you had ever heard from him.

"you were just going to lie to everyone about it, weren't you?" it was less of a question, more an accusatory statement that made him whittle down into his shoulders. "you're lucky I'm the one who found you first and not wolfwood or meryl, vash."

he winced, body tensing against the first touches of your cold cotton pad on the wound.

"I know," he tried to laugh through his teeth again, air hissing through them as you continued. "thanks for keeping this between us. I guess I've always relied on you for that, though."

the first blood saturated pad was discarded, replaced by a clean one that you doused in antiseptic before dabbing it across the gash. he twitched against your fingers, reeling away and pushing back against you at every contact.

as the pad blossomed with pink, you found it oddly reminiscent of thinned out watercolor bleeding out on canvas, filling the miniscule crevices within slightly darker than the rest of it. and, once this one turned a brighter crimson, you replaced it with more pristine white.

"almost done, hang in there." you said, taking your time to get around the clumped edges of black, flicking away strings of dead flesh and clotted blood.

his fingernails left indents in his palm, fist unfurling and resting across his thigh once your hands were off of him. it was easier to bear the sterile, medicated patches you smoothed across him after that; warm, timid, caring touches that he leaned into.

when that feeling became a fleeting, faraway thing again, he was towards you to take back your hand and rest it against his face. your warmth melted into him, enveloping him more as he moved to wind his arms around you and stoop his neck to kiss your lips.

reposted from my deleted blog; cardeneiv

[merbear25]

Imagining Vash comforting you when you're feeling overly anxious and emotional.

He's the one to hold you if you need to be held and the one to be by your side, listening attentively. He may not know what to say to help ease your worried mind, so instead he'll let you pour your heart out and be your shoulder to cry on. You wonder if he'll ever truly understand just how much that means to you.

If you aren't seeking someone to lend an ear and simply need them to stay with you, he'd be more than happy to give you that. He would probably wonder why he's the one you're seeking out for comfort, although he wouldn't protest.

After you've calmed down a little, you give him a grateful smile and thank him for being there for you. He'd still be curious as to how he actually was able to help but is glad he could nonetheless.

[meguwumibear]

Revelation(s)

Summary: You look up and there before you is a pale man. His name is Nai and his companion is the knife. He seeks authority over the planet, to kill the spiders so that the butterflies may survive...or Nai finds you literally buried in the sand and decides to spare your life for unclear reasons.

Word Count: 2,900

Warning: character injury (mentions of blood), knives (obviously), Tesla’s backstory (nongraphic torture and what happens to their body after), i think that’s everything but let me know if i missed something!

Notes: If you’re all caught up with tristamp there are no spoilers! Takes place before Vash and the gang make it to July.

Nights in No Man’s Land are cool. Mornings are filled with stagnant heat from the planet’s sun. The warmth from the great red giant is oppressive. Its rays burn and blister the skin. Unforgiving and unrelenting, the days here are marred by sweat, liquid hot.

You read somewhere long ago in a book about lost technology that moons were once thought to control the tides. The sea and its waters ebbed and flowed, swayed by the pull of something far, far away. There are no seas in No Man’s Land. No waves to crest and fall. Here, on this dry, barren planet, the oceans are made of the sand and her dunes, moved only by the worms beneath it, not some heavenly body from above.

Still, maybe the five moons of this planet are trying to move and sway something, for there’s a gentle breeze when they’re out that simply isn’t there in the morning. It’s that cool, gentle breeze that you find comfort in this night. You are trapped, half buried in the sand, held there by a collapsed metal beam, but at least you can see the stars.

There’s a nasty gash on your forehead just above your left eye. Blood’s been steadily trickling into the thing for hours, obstructing your vision. The wound stung when you first got it. Now it’s just numb. The only proof you have now of the injury are the ruby red droplets slipping slower and slower down your skin.

The night is quite save for your labored breathing. You figure it won’t be long now.

Footsteps. Somewhere behind you. The metal beam pushing down on your stomach prevents you from turning to look. You wouldn’t have had the energy to even if you wanted. Besides, you’re so far gone it’s possible there aren’t actually any footsteps at all.

A shadow. A silhouette made visible by the moon light. Someone is here and they are looming over your slumped form.

“Pathetic,” comes a disembodied voice. The part of you that remains lucid swears you’ve heard it before.

“Vash?” you ask. Is it possible? Had your traveling companion come back for you.

“Not quite,” the voice tuts.

Then he’s in front of you, large and looming like the horsemen of death. You recognize him and you don’t. His build and frame are familiar, but even in the darkness you can tell this isn’t your Vash. It’s the eyes that make the difference. They’re bitter and angry. Icy and cold like the breeze that’s been soothing you.

“So this is what my brother has been up to,” the man muses. “Traipsing around with you and your ilk. Some days I swear he’s just as pathetic as you.”

Brother. You suppose that makes sense, though the Vash you knew never spoke of a twin.

“Well?” he’s demanding. “Got anything to say for yourself?”

“I don’t know where Vash is.”

He crouches so that he’s eye level with you and rolls his eyes. “I don’t remember asking. I’m not here for him. I’m not ready for him yet.”

Your face scrunches, “What-”

His fingers wind their way through your hair, gripping it so tightly you feel like a puppet pulled by a string. He forces your face closer to his own so that he can inspect you properly. When he survey’s you, his eyes are sharp, like those of a hawk catching sight of its prey. You manage to stare back with your good eye, the one that isn’t pooling with blood, though there must be something wrong with that one too because the man before you is fuzzy, blurred and misshapen, like a picture out of focus.

When he drops you suddenly, your head lulls to the side.

“Pathetic,” he repeats. “I don’t get what he sees in you weak little creatures. I mean, look at you, in this bad of shape due to a little blood loss. What do you think, hmm? Should I leave you here to bleed out drop after agonizing drop, or should I just ago ahead and finish you off?”

There’s a sound, a burst of light, and the man before you is engulfed in a tornado of something sharp and silver. It takes a minute for your brain to process what it’s seeing: millions and millions of swirling knives.

Your eyes widen, “What are you?”

The monster before you smiles, “An independent.”

And then your world goes black.

***

When you wake, it’s into a deep darkness. It’s so dark in fact, you figure you’ve either actually died or been struck blind. With some effort, you manage to peel open your eyes. The room you’re in is unfamiliar. As you sit, a wave of pain cascades down your back and spine. So not dead or blind, then, for death surely cannot be this painful.

There’s a man in the room with you. The same one as before. The one who wears Vash’s face.

“What do you know of Eden?” he asks you. Clutched in his lithe fingers is a thick paperback book, the spine worn with read. The Bible, you realize. His eyes never leave the page.

“The garden?” you ask, your voice hoarse. It strikes you suddenly how thirsty you are.

He rolls his eyes and snaps the books shut. “Yes, the garden. What do you know of it?”

You consider him now that his eyes are on you. There’s a strange look in them that you can’t quite place. Something serious and dangerous.

Your family wasn’t pious. There was a church in the small town you grew up in, but people hardly ever attended. Even the priest spent more time drinking than preaching. Still, you somehow think your answer to his question may determine just how long you get to remain breathing, so you say, “It was supposed to be a paradise for the first humans, but a creature tempted Eve with a fruit forbidden and after she convinced Adam to eat it with her, they were cast out.”

He nods, smiles.

“A world without humans.”

He seems fond of the idea.

“Is that your goal?” you ask him. “A world without humans? A new Eden.”

He stands to leave, “I doubt a thing like you could understand.”

***

A man with hair the color of the sky on a cloudless day brings you some food and water, grumbling to himself about babysitting though he doesn’t stay more than a minute, practically flinging the tray of food onto your bedside table before stomping and storming away.

“Legato,” Nai will tell you later, not long after he gifts you his own name. “He was my first.”

“First what?” you ask between bites of food. You’d refused it at first, but Nai hadn’t liked that. Started ranting and raving about how he didn’t go through all the trouble of having his doctor save your stupid life just for you to throw it away in some half-hearted hunger strike.

(When you asked him why he had chosen to save you, he had no answer).

Nai ignores your question—as he often does—to ask you one of his own. He seems to like to question you, though you’re not sure what you’re on trial for. Your humanity it often seems. “What do you know about plants?”

You shrug from the bed you haven’t managed to leave in days. The doctor worked miracles to repair your back and legs, but they remained mostly lost to you. Stiff and unsteady.

“They’re the source of our water on No Man’s Land.”

He’s sitting reclined in a chair, elbow propped up on the arm rest, two fingers next to his eye, a thumb below his chin as he observes you. The ease and nonchalance at which he studies you makes your blood boil with rage. He’s right to feel so unthreatened by you. You are only human after all. What could you possibly do to creature like him?

“Where do they get it?” he asks, tone bored yet undercut with something sinister.

You sigh, closing your eyes to pinch at the brink of your nose. “I don’t know, Nai.”

He’s smiling when you look at him again, as if he’s caught you somehow. You’ve clearly given him the answer he sought.

“Have you ever seen one?”

You shake your head.

“Would you like to?”

***

You don’t understand what you’re looking at. Surely, this floating white sphere in a tank cannot be what has kept the people of the planet fed and watered for nearly a century or more. At first, you think you may be looking at a gigantic filter, but then the sphere begins to unfurl and you’re left with more questions than answers.  

Still, Nai is looking expectantly at you, waiting for your reaction, so you say, “They’re beautiful.”

Which is true. The creature before you is pale and soft like the moons of the planet, shining and shimmering with an almost blinding white light. It has a head and body not unlike your own: two arms, two legs. And then, of course, there are the wings.

“They’re kin.”

You look from Nai to the creature and start to piece parts of the puzzle together. “You’re related to them. You and Vash both. You’re plants.”

“Independents,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”

He’s staring intensely at you now, arms crossed, icy eyes burning holes through your soul. It takes you some time to realize that he wants you to figure it out, so you give it your best guess, “Independents can exist outside this container.”

There go his eyes. Rolling. They never seem to stay still when he’s with you. “Obviously. Dig deeper. How come I can stand here before you and they can’t?” His tone is condescending and patronizing. He scolds you like a teacher does a disappointing pupil.

“You’re…” you try again, determined not to be disappointing, “sentient?”

He nods lightly yet encouragingly. “Go on.”

“You and Vash,” you continue slow and unsure. “You’re more alive than them somehow. More aware. Conscious and able to make more decisions.”

“Perceptive girl,” Nai hums. You think he might be complimenting you, though his facial expression remains strikingly neutral.

He may be pleased at your perceptiveness, but a creeping unsettledness suddenly begins to worm its way into your heart. “Plants…” you muse aloud. Nai is watching you. Waiting to see what epiphany, if any, you have next. “We humans called you that. That’s the name we gave you. Is it accurate?”

“What do you think?”

You frown. You think this thing in the tank looks an awful lot like an angel.

“Can they consent?” you ask him suddenly. “Do they know what’s happening to them?”

He’s smiling now, something wide and toothy and predatory like you’re a fly he’s caught in his well woven web. He asks you again. “What do you think?”

You think, begrudgingly, that whatever these plants are, you’d die without them.

***

“Are there others?” you ask him one day.

By now you’ve learned where you are: an opulent city called July. A hearty, healthy plant crashed here during the big fall—which you’ve come to learn Nai and Vash caused—and people built their lives around it.

“Other what?” he asks in return. “Be more specific.” He’s sitting at a grand piano beating the same song into the keys over and over and over.

“Other independents.” You’re sitting on the cold floor beside his piano bench, resting your back against it.

He waits until he’s finished playing the song one last time to address you. “There was another,” he confirms for you. “One other.”

He’s shifted his body so he can look at you fully. You turn to face him as well. After months and months of entertaining the beast, you think you finally understand how to play its game. He won’t elaborate unless you ask. He likes to make you beg.

“Who were they?”

“Their name was Tesla,” he says. “I never met them.” He pauses, then corrects himself, “Well, actually, I suppose I did meet them. Twice actually. But by then it was too late.”

Nai only ever feeds you scraps. He likes to keep you hungry. Wants you coming back for more.

“What happened to them?” you ask, humoring him. You think at his core, Nai is incredibly lonely. There’s no other reason for him to keep someone like you around. You’re not like Legato. You don’t believe in him or his desire for a new Eden. If he were to finally sate you and your appetite, you’d both go mad with boredom.

“Humans,” he bites. “What else. You and your kind can never just leave anything well enough alone. It wasn’t enough for you to destroy your own planet and the flora and animal life there; you had to destroy this one too. And on the backs of my brothers and sisters.”

Anger isn’t unusual for him. He doesn’t seem to realize it, but all his anger makes him oh so very human. His emotions bring him closer to what it is he hates the most.

“What happened to Tesla?” you ask again.

“They came to me,” he says, “in a dream. They led me to where the humans on that ship were keeping what was left of their body. Alive two hundred twenty-nine days, and every one of them torture. You humans pumped them full of so much poison there was hardly anything left of them when they died. An arm. A brain. Their eyes. All stored in three separate containers. Preserved like trophies. And he has the gall to insinuate I’m the sadist. Every fucking thing I did thereafter I did for him!”

His fist slams down on the piano. The instrument wails in protest. You jump at the sound.

Talking to Nai can feel like diffusing a bomb. Cut the wrong wire, and he’s bound to explode. You aren’t sure what to say to him now. It isn’t your job as his captive to comfort him. Still, there’s something in those stone-cold eyes of his that wasn’t there before. Something sorrowful.

“Everything you did you did for Vash.”

He sighs, posture slumping. Nai’s tired, you realize. Of what you can’t be sure.

“He’s too weak to survive as a plant so he acts the dim witted fool to win him the affections of humans instead. Why do you think he behaves the way he does? He’s shrinking himself to not seem harmful or dangerous to you and your kind. You’d hunt him for sport or string him up and suck him dry like you’re doing our brethren if you knew his true nature. I had to protect him. I had to protect us.”

An arm. A brain. Some eyes. That’s all that was left of Tesla. Humans consumed everything else. Maybe that’s what Nai is so afraid of. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry all the time. You picture your mother hacked up and pickled. Suddenly it isn’t so hard to empathize with Nai.

“What are you going to do?” you ask him. He’s never actually told you his plan. Just bits and pieces of it. You’re not sure if he wants to keep you ignorant or if he wants you to figure it out for yourself. “How are you going to protect your kind?”

A little while back he brought a preacher to your room. Asked you to share everything you knew about Vash with the man. You assured both of them that it wasn’t much—you’d only traveled with Vash a few weeks at most—but Nai insisted, hanging on every word. You wondered how long it’d been since Nai saw his brother in the flesh.

Vash is involved in all this somehow. Nai needs him in July.

Nai is looking down at you from the bench, lips pressed firmly together into a thin straight line. It’s the first time he’s contemplated sharing everything with you. “The extinction of your kind means nothing while my own remain little more than conduits and shells.”

You nod. That makes sense. Vash and Nai are the only independents. Even if Nai managed to exterminate your kind, the plants would be no more sentient then than they were before.

“You want them conscious,” you say. “Independent like you and Vash.”

He’s smiling now, lips curved upwards, corners of his eyes crinkling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a soft and serene expression on him. All his hatred and anger gone as he envisions this humanless utopia.

As quick as the expression comes, it goes. Nai’s face darkens. Lips curved down in a deep, contemplative frown. You dare to ask, “How will you manage it?”

A sneer. Vicious and violent. It warps his otherwise angelic face.  That’s the issue, then. The how. It occurs to you that Nai may have kept his plans from you not to keep them a secret, but because they’re too hard for him to breathe life into. A plan unspoken is one yet to have been made real.

Nai thinks you’re selfish. He thinks every human is selfish. You are tempted by everything. By food and drink and sex. Driven by id, seeking pleasure, drowning out pain. He calls you all Eve and plots a paradise free of your particular breed of sin. He can’t understand that you and your kind are just doing what’s needed to survive on a plant you were never meant to inhabit.

He wouldn’t want your pity, but in a way, he’s earned it.

You force yourself to look up at him as you say, “Whatever you end up doing, I hope it brings you peace.”