#trigun stampede drabble

[saetoru]

Tee imagine being vash’s first kiss :(

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FIRST — VASH THE STAMPEDE.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ vash has never fallen in love—not before you, that is (2.1k words)

☽ contents ⋮ mutual pining, slightly jealous vash (of nicholas), confessions, fluff

☽ notes ⋮ i don’t even think this has anything to do with the ask anymore LMAO i got carried away but here <3

“nico, get your grimy fingers off my share,” you huff, shoving nicholas’s fingers away from the last few bites of your lunch.

food is scarce these days—more so than usual, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you finally find a place to grab a bite. vash eyes you as your lips are curled into a soft frown, the crinkle of your brows making his throat dry—because you’re cute, even with a look of pure irritation on your face, you’re soft and angelic and you make his heart skip a beat.

“c’mon, give me a bite or two,” nicholas chuckles, sneaking his way back to reach for your share of food, “you try carrying that big ol’ cross around all day.”

this time, you slap his hand away, huffing as you shift closer to vash to put extra distance between you and nicholas. vash has to keep himself from leaning in when he feels the warmth of your body radiate against him at the proximity.

“oh, you’re such a jackass, y’know?” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the easy chuckle nicholas gives you. but vash can see it—the beginnings of a smile you try (and fail) to fight back as you shake your head. “you’re the one who insists on carrying such a flashy weapon.”

“well it saved your pretty little head a few times didn’t it?” he shoots back. nicholas is easy to talk to like that, banter filling the air between you as you dance around each other with petty taunts and sly grins and stolen touches through pokes to the forehead.

vash thinks the only time he’s ever touched you is to pull you away from danger. in fact, he thinks it’d be easier to fight off an entire city after him than pluck the courage to reach out and flick your forehead the way nicholas does. it’s so smooth, so simple, so natural—and he can from tell the way your eyes soften for nicholas that it must be love.

he glances down at his food, feels his appetite dwindle and his chest tighten, and soon enough there’s an extra share of food pressed to your hand as he stands up.

“i’m not hungry,” he smiles softly, “you have it.”

you blink for a moment before opening your mouth to protest. “but vash—”

he’s off before you can finish talking, climbing into the van and closing the door while everyone stares after his figure and blinks. you frown, looking back at nicholas who only grins wider, holding a hand out for the half eaten dinner in your hold.

“well, don’t be greedy. share the goods,” he insists.

you roll your eyes, pulling away from his outstretched hand as you glare at him.

“something’s wrong,” you announce. meryl and roberto share a look, glancing quickly between you and nicholas again before continuing eating, making your brows furrow. “you guys know, don’t you?”

“everyone does, sweet cheeks,” nicholas chuckles, shaking his head, “you’re a bit more oblivious than i thought.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you glare, but he only eyes you with amusement, turning back to finish the last few bites of his dinner before standing up and walking off, mumbling about needing a smoke under his breath.

you stare back at the van, unsure whether or not you’re supposed to go after vash—whether or not he even wants you there. it takes you a few moments of contemplation before you ultimately stand up, earning a look from meryl and a sigh from roberto.

“i’m gonna go after him,” you announce.

it doesn’t take long to walk up to the van and climb in, finding vash sitting slouched on his side of the back seat, looking out the window. he almost looks…defeated—it’s a type of vash you don’t think you’ve ever really seen.

“vash?” you ask softly, making him tense for a moment before he glances at you, offering a poor attempt of a reassuring smile.

you don’t think vash has ever successfully hidden an emotion ever in his life. for as long as you’ve known him—though it’s not been that long—he’s worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions bared before you whether he means to or not. you sit down beside him, staring at your lap as he stares out the window again.

“hey,” he says quietly, “why aren’t you with everyone else?”

“why aren’t you?” you counter gently.

“ah, well,” he chuckles nervously, painfully aware of how close your knees are from brushing, “just wanted to sit. and think, i guess,” he says quietly.

“about what?”

“just stuff,” he mumbles.

he doesn’t want to tell you he thinks about how he must be in love with you, doesn’t want to admit as much when you’ve clearly got someone else in your heart. vash has never fallen in love—but he thinks if he’d have to give the feeling a label, it’d be you.

he thinks it has to be love when the first pair of eyes he searches for are yours, making sure you’re okay before he even thinks about checking on anyone else. what else could it be besides love when even if for a split second, the very thought of you being in danger makes his gun leave its holster and ready to aim. if not love, he’s not sure what else it could be when he’s so nervous around you, he feels words stick to his throat like he’s choking.

vash has never fallen in love before, but there’s no mistaking this feeling now that it hits him.

you’re kind—maybe a bit more than you should be to him since he does nothing but drag you into danger. the rational part of him wishes you’d stop coming with him wherever he goes, it hopes you’ll see you have so much to live for outside of cleaning up his messes. the more desperate part of him feels nauseous at the idea of you going your separate ways—he can protect you, can’t he? the desert is a dangerous place with or without him and if you’re in danger one way or another, you should stick by his side where he can keep an eye on you.

no, vash has never been in love—but he’s sure as hell seen it happen before his own two eyes in the many, many years he’s lived.

and he knows you’re in love with nicholas with one painful glance.

“c’mon vash,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, “we’re friends, i know you better than that. something’s wrong. are you upset about what those people in that last town said to you? because i’ll march right up to them and give them hell and back if—”

friends.

he’s tuned you out, too hyper focused on that awful burning sensation pooling in his chest, the one that hits him as soon as you use that cruel word. of course vash is just your friend, why wouldn’t he be? he can’t remember the last time someone actually wanted him around at all let alone as something more.

he doesn’t even notice your hand reaching for his until it lays over his fist, gently unclamping it from the fabric of his coat. he doesn’t even notice he’s been fisting it this whole time, doesn’t even notice his shoulders are tense until you lean your head on it.

“you don’t have to tell me,” you murmur gently, “i’ll wait here with you.”

“why?” he can’t help but ask, can’t help but wonder why you care to spend your time here when you could be there. with nicholas. without him.

“because i care about you.” you say it like it’s obvious, like he should already know that.

perhaps he does—you do care about him, he can see it with the way you help clean his wounds and scold him for being reckless…just maybe not in the way he wishes you would.

“are you ever going to tell nicholas how you feel?” he asks.

you sit up, shock on your face and a crease in your brows as you stare at him in bewilderment. he almost thinks he’s asked something out of line, something he should apologize for. but before he can offer you a stuttered apology, you beat him to it.

“what?” you chuckle. “do i look like i feel something for nicholas?”

“you don’t?” he sounds shocked, making you blink.

“no,” you shake your head, grimacing like the idea is an unpleasant one. “he’s a nuisance i tolerate at best.”

“oh,” is all he says, surprised. it’s silent for a moment before he hesitantly asks, “is…is there someone?”

he doesn’t want to know the answer either way. yes means the pain of knowing there’s someone else he has to let you go to. no means it’s not him even with no one else to compete with at all. but he figures whether your answer is yes or no, it’s enough to force him to let go.

“well…” you hesitate for a moment, inhaling before letting out a shaky breath and slumping back to his shoulder, “can i be honest?”

“of course,” he says instantly.

“i don’t know how you’ll take it,” you admit quietly, and he can hear the slight shakiness in your voice—like you’re nervous, like what you’re about to say will change everything.

but vash knows no matter what you’ll say, no matter what you’ll ever do, he’ll still keep loving you even if you don’t need him to.

“is it embarrassing?”

“no,” you shake your head, “well, maybe a little. depends on how you react. i might look stupid.”

“can’t be worse than running out of bullets,” he smiles softly, “i bet i looked pretty stupid then.”

“a little,” you admit, giggling. and then you both laugh softly, your cheek against his shoulder and your hand gently clasped over his. distantly, you can hear nicholas ask where you are—and you know it’s not long before you’ll lose this rare moment alone. so you take a deep breath, stare at your hand over his as you mumble, “i think i love you. a little. actually, that’s a lie—a lot. like, a whole lot.”

he blinks.

he feels his breath hitch and your shoulders tense and his heart race all at once. for a second he thinks he might’ve heard you wrong—but then you whisper how you understand if he doesn’t feel the same way, how it’s okay, really! you understand, it’s not his fault and you can still be friends because you’re fine with friends. just as long as he’s still in your life because he’s important to you and friends is better than nothing at all.

and then he cuts you off with a soft chuckle, making you pause and glance up at him with doubt on your face.

“can i be honest too?” he smiles gently, melting your heart even as it shatters just a little in your chest.

“of course,” you whisper.

“i love you too. not a little though. a lot. i thought you had a thing for nicholas, though—”

“nico is rude and smells like smoke. i wouldn’t kiss him if my life depended on it,” you interrupt with a crinkle of your nose, making him chuckle with bright eyes and love scribbled over the curves of his features.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes when your hand cups a cheek gently.

“good,” he murmurs, “but don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe. your life will never depend on kissing him.”

“good,” you hum, “because i only want to kiss you.”

and then you do, slow and sweet and so in love. it’s his first kiss—he doesn’t really know what to do, but he follows your lead and learns fast, soft lips molding with yours and mingling your warm breath with his. vash doesn’t even care he’s gone this long without feeling something as gentle as being in love. he’s in love now, with you—and he’s glad you love him too and not nicholas wolfwood, the man who keeps trying to steal dinner from under your nose.

“are you two done in there already?” nicholas is pounding on the door, making you pull away with a sour look on your face. “we got places to be. better not be baby making where i’m about to sleep.”

“can’t you make one exception and kill him?” you whine, making vash chuckle before he leans to kiss you again, more chaste this time. and again, and again.

vash has never fallen in love—and he’s sure it’s because he was meant to wait this long to fall in love with you.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[takami-takami]

"Marry me."

He’s hardly lucid enough to hear himself, but it's the first thing Vash whines when he sinks into your heat, allowing those baby blues to roll further into his head than his toes can curl against his soles. 

"Marry me, marry me."

It takes some strain for you to hear those words over the incessant creaking of the dingy hotel bedframe below; but perhaps you should be grateful for moments like this. A life of sandstorms, drought, and scarcity follows the typhoon himself; and strays like you both— vagabonds, more like— are rarely afforded the luxury to settle and lap their fill.

It’s not your fault you ended up swept into bed, spread yet again beneath your dearest friend. He just looks so unbearably pretty like this. The waves of viridian lights that dust the night sky drip in through the window beside him, illuminating his face and sharply contrasting against the flush that creeps down his neck.

Jaw slack, eyes wide, and palms clutching the sheets on either side of your head; you never stood a chance at saying no to him.

"Jumping straight to marriage, huh." You twirl a blonde strand, wrapped around your finger. "That desperate? Aww, puppy," you croon with sympathy, and Vash buries himself at the sound of it. You’re aware it’s an attempt to hide when he shudders into your neck like this, bleeding insecurity alongside arousal; but it’s easy to forget the pangs in your chest when his hand paws between your thighs with a whimper, desperate to be of service to you.

"Please don't say it like that, miss," he huffs. "You'll make me— you know I'll— oh," he gives up halfway through the sentence and squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees scorching, hot white. It's desperate, the way he grits his teeth, frantic to hold himself back.

Such a polite boy.

His pace picks up once more to the rhythm of the mattress, huffing with each indulgent stroke. The thick of it stretches you full; and judging by the stutter of his hips, Vash's restraint has been wound tight enough to snap.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he babbles, a mumbled apology lining each thrust, clipped wet in his watering mouth. "Feels so good." A shake of his head, a moan from his throat. "Don't think I got it in me to last, I'm real sorry—"

"It's okay," you soothe. "I gotcha. Let go."

And your words of permission wring the pleasure from him, sucking the air from his lungs. When his hips finally stall, it's with his teeth buried deep in your skin and a hiccup rising in his throat.

There’s an uncertainty in his pout once you both find your breaths. He chews one cheek and looks toward the open window when he whispers, low enough for no one but you to hear. 

“I meant what I said, you know.”

"Yeah, I know." Your palm rests against his heated cheek. When he leans into it like a stray dog might burrow into a warm bed, it's with his eyes fluttered shut.

"Someday, pretty boy." You kiss the mark beneath his left eye, smiling at the scrunch of his nose. "Next time, I expect a ring." 

[angelltheninth]

Watching the Meteor Shower with Vash

Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, cuddles, flirting, blushing, Vash being cute

Flufftober Day 27: Outdoor Event

A/N: The sequel better give him a break cause I swear to god he needs one. Here's to another flufftober entry, wow, can't believe it's almost over.

A rare night tonight, a meteor shower. Vash was so excited to see it with you, he rushed back home as fast as he could, making it just few hours before it started. He was so giddy as he lead you to the roof, on the soft blanket and patted the spot next to him. "I'm more comfortable here." You kissed his cheek before sitting between his legs.

His cute blush was slightly dampened by the cool night air. You saw it though, no way would you ever miss them. Vash resigned to his fate and wrapped his arms around you, knees bent and chest rising and falling with yours.

You turned for a moment, and took his glasses off, placing them beside him, "Much better."

"You know you're supposed to be looking at the sky, not me right?" He laughed awkwardly, backing up when you leaned in, not sure what exactly you wanted from him. The clock ticked in silence, it was almost time.

"I can see it reflected in your eyes just fine." Your words made him do a double take, his eyes blinking rapidly, face the color of his prized jacket.

"You... uh... i- it's starting!" He turned his eyes up but you looked at them for a few more seconds, finding the starts and the meteors much more beautiful when you saw them through Vash's eyes.

[chris-continues]

SUMMARY: in which you kiss (beta design) Vash <3

TW: a bit suggestive? You kiss. That’s it.

TAGS: @millionsvash @h4venpha @vashfantasy @macncherries @captaintweet

Your traveling companion was.. a rather quirky man, to say the least.

He brandished a bright red coat, clunky, round glasses, and most importantly, a mask. All of which overshadowed the rest of his lanky form, an attempt to distract from his appearance under the mask. That of which, was never revealed to you. Your curiosity perpetually poked at you from time to time- what was he hiding?

Everyone had their own share of secrets, of things they’d rather keep to themselves, and the last thing you wanted to do was to pry. Even when you both had gotten closer to one another, quite literally, as you were pressed in an alleyway awaiting for the coast to clear-

His mask never came off.

His torso pressed against yours, chest rising and falling rapidly. You could feel it from underneath your hands- he’d had to stabilize your stop earlier when you rushed into your hiding spot. You didn’t have the guts to move. Not that you really wanted to. God, you longed for him, and the lack of room between you two was something you had to savor right now. His gaze darted away from you, your breath tickling his jaw. Apart of you truly hoped people would continue their chase in pursuit of you two- if only to remain this close to him.

“Uhm-“ you paused, lips brushing his jaw accidentally.

A shiver ransacked his entire being as his arms, which were propping himself up on the wall behind you, shook slightly. “Ah, sorry-“

“Please.. quiet..” he pleaded, his mask shifting as his lips moved. You swore you could feel him biting his lip, fidgeting to the best of his ability.

You squirmed. A nervous habit.

“…mayfly…”

You tried to pull back, observing him. In the time you’ve known him, he’s relatively hard to read. Mask and all, obscuring the majority of his facial features (save for his eyes, hidden behind round orange lenses). The pinch of his brows gave way to his uneasiness.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” You murmured, voice rumbling slightly.

He shook his head, eyes heady. His dark lashes fluttered oh so beautifully, mole peeking a bit past his mask. His reply was breathy. “You.. you can’t keep teasing me like this.”

You blink owlishly. Once. Twice. So you weren’t assuming things.

"Do you want me to stop..?" You drew your question out, heart thrumming in your chest. Zeroing in, awaiting his reply. He gave a brief shake of his head, eyes wide. As if it would kill him, he clung to any crumb of affection you had to offer. You hoped it wasn't circumstantial, knowing full well that if he had asked the same of you that you would absolutely never refuse.

In a flashing moment of bravery, you pecked his cheek. The fabric of his mask felt smooth on your lips, a small kissing sound resonating in the tight space between you two. Then his lips moved from underneath the mask, upturning the corner of his eyes cheekily.

"Hah.. you uh.. you missed." "Huh?"

You felt fabric against your lips once again, although you really wish you didn't. Curiosity pried at you, as feverish as the kiss. What was once a chaste meeting of lips separated by that godforsaken mask turned into him cupping your face, your back pressed to the wall amidst the barren alleyway. You felt his chest heaving against yours, the repetitive motion comforting, in a sense.

He felt.. so warm. So comforting. His palms to your cheeks, enveloping your face in its immeasurable value. Pure want coursed throughout you, appreciation seeping into the kiss. Perhaps one day, he'd be able to bare himself to you, to meet the plush of his lips, flesh to flesh as you breathed one another in. Perhaps one day, you'd be able to pepper kisses on his bare face the way you'd imagined every few times where you allowed your mind to wander. He was a beauty in your eyes, his lashes fluttering in a demure fashion whenever he pulled away, only to kiss you once more.

But for now? You were content with the press of your bodies, flush to one another as you felt the fabric of his mask dampen, the movement of what you knew to be his lips meeting yours.

[needle-noggins]

Where do your roots start

And where do your roots end?

Something about seeing only the worst of yourself in the mirror. Something violent and terrifying, but knowing you only grew that violence in response to violence against you. Knowing your power comes from a place of trauma, something you don’t remember but wish had never happened. But it did, and here you are. There’s something new in you that isn’t the you that you understand and you wish it wasn’t but it is. Violence begets violence and you are unable to control what grows from the seeds that were planted. So you have to live with it and try not to let that violence spread.

You’ve already failed once.

And you see it every time you look in the damn mirror.

—

For Body Horror Week’s final day, prompt: Roots by In This Moment

[novasintheroom]

Dancing with Vash is...

Exciting. He's pulled you out on the dance floor more than once to do the line dance with him and the other patrons of the bar. He'll pull his own moves too, twirling you, dipping you down low, pulling you through his legs and hopping up to hold you close. You've gotten many rounds of applause for how well you two dance together.

Dancing with Vash is...

Spontaneous. Often while he's talking to you in the morning or out and about, he'll take your hand and give you a little twirl while finishing his sentence. Sometimes you'll stand there and pretend you don't know what he's doing, until he full-on lifts you in the air and spins you around. Your squeal of surprise follows his laughter. It's silly, and fun, especially when he gives you the look when you don't play along.

Dancing with Vash is...

Solemn. Vash has pulled you close before, somewhere out in the deserts and just held you as you both rock back and forth in a pseudo-dance. He'll whisper how much he loves you, the unspoken truth of how he's become so attached he doesn't know what he'd do without you at this point. You kiss his jaw, and he hums, hiding in the crook of your neck. He doesn't deserve you.

Dancing with Vash is...

Irrational. Loving. Ecstatic. He loves having you as his dance partner in life.

[bendycxmet]

My, What Beautiful Hair You Have!—Vash the Stampede

summary: on a boring Sunday, you decide to get Vash's attention through some head scratches

content: 771 words. mostly fluff but suggestive towards the end, head scratches, needy reader kinda ngl (but who isn't for Vash's attention), one (1) hickey, written with tristamp vash in mind

a/n: saw this fanart and immediately wanted to write this. his hair looks so nice. anyway something soft before i post my first smut piece. aha

You should be thankful. Its been a long week of nonstop travel from dusty town to dusty town. You stopped remembering what the town names were, every stop melding into one as the exhaustion from the constant Tomas riding got to you. But finally, the week reached its end, producing a lazy Sunday for you and Vash to recuperate at the latest town you stopped in. 

Both of you were lounging on the motel bed, sunlight creeping in from the second-story window, dust flurries apparent from the rays pouring in. You were lying sprawled out on the mattress, Vash sitting at the end of the bed, cleaning his gun. You feel your eyes shut, not from sleepiness. No. Boredom. You sigh loudly, hoping Vash can give you some attention. Silence meets your ears. You sigh again, this time much more slowly and drawn out. Nothing. Wondering what is so interesting about that damn gun of his, you open your eyes and stare longingly at his back.

“Vashhh,” you whined. He hums questioningly, continuing his ministrations against the metallic piece in his hand. That’s not the answer you wanted. You wanted him to turn around and pay attention to you. A conversation. A wrestling competition. Anything to drive away this boredom that’s consumed you.

Your eyes land on the back of his head, outlining where his scruffy brown undercut meets the soft gentle waves of his longer, blond hair. 

When does he find the time to cut his hair? Why does it look so nice? He should let me cut it for him…

What stands out to you the most, is how fluffy it looks. You feel your hand moving on its own before your brain can even register the action. You feel your fingertips reach his head, and just as you expected. Soft. You trail your fingers up from the undercut and into his blond tresses.

Vash is used to you touching his hair. What he isn’t used to is you actually using your nails to scratch his scalp. A pleasurable shudder runs down his spine, whipping around to face you as he lets out a squeak.

“Uhh…” He doesnt even know what to say, only averting his eyes and trying to distract you from the blush that’s fallen on his cheeks.

“Oh, sorry, did I scare you? I can stop.”

“No, no. It’s fine… just took me off guard.” Vash glances at you, shooting you a quick smile before turning back around. Assuming he’s ok with it now, you sit up straighter, reaching your fingers back to softly scratch at his hair, admiring the way it shifts back into place, covering your path.

“How the hell is your hair so soft? We live in a dry desert!” 

“I just take showers with whatever soap we have. Other than that, mostly water when we come across a fountain and I wanna wash the dirt off me.” Vash shrugs, peeking at you over his shoulder, his gun forgotten. You smile. 

I win. You thought. You finally got his attention.

“I don’t know what pisses me off more: the fact that you’re blessed with this hair, or the fact you don’t even realize. Ugh, I hate men.” You tease, a slight quirk in your lip.

“Mayflyy, you love meee though, right?”

“Yeah yeah whatever you say hot stuff.” You can’t let him think he’s got the upper hand after ignoring you for an hour. The way his brown undercut trails into a peak at the slight bend of his neck triggers an impulsive thought. You lean in, trailing your lips across his neck, giving light kisses along the way. You feel Vash stop his movements suddenly, his breathing becoming shallow.

Got you right where I want you.

Just as Vash begins to relax into your gentle kisses, he gasps, eyes shooting open as you abruptly bite into the soft skin, suckling slightly after. You pull back, leaning on the palms of your hands as you stare admiringly at your work. 

The satisfying grin falls away as Vash doesn’t turn around after a minute. Thinking you may have crossed the line, you offer a white flag in surrender.

“Heh, hey sorry I didn’t mean to stop you from working on your gun. If you want, we can go out and get din-” 

His gun clatters noisily on the ground near his feet. Looking up, you meet Vash’s swimmingly hot gaze. 

“Not tonight. You started something you have to finish now, Mayfly.”

You scoot backwards, inviting him further up the bed as he crawls his way to you. 

This was gonna be a long night.

masterlist

divider

[heich0e]

bright - vash/f!reader/wolfwood (trigun stampede) 2k, part 3 of poly!au, wild west!au, bounty hunters, wolfwood calls reader 'kid' as a petname, this is just sweet n fluffy and nothing is bad (for now...), alexa play home on the range BOUND - poly!au masterlist

it’s been two days since nicholas and vash returned.

well, two nights and one day, technically, but it all seems to bleed together—the seconds since the two crept through the door at midnight passing slow and sticky-sweet like honey. half the day following their homecoming was spent asleep, just a pile of tangled limbs and warm skin together in your shared bed, and the remaining hours had been spent in that same place as well—though your activities had been far from restful. your body is left tender and heavy and tired as you make up for the day’s work you’d neglected, but those aches are sweet too in their own way; a reminder as sure and tangible as any that your boys are home. 

the day is hot, like most days are on the little homestead where you dwell, and the sun beats down on you oppressively from overhead. at the clothesline, you find some reprieve hiding in the shadows cast by the sheets you’re hanging out to dry, catching in the warm breeze and fluttering as it passes. you’ve got a few more pieces of bedlinen to hang waiting in the basket at your feet, freshly washed and then wrung out until they were a manageable degree of sopping, and you wipe the sweat from your brow before you stoop down to reach for the next one in the pile.

on the front porch, nicholas watches your every move from his favourite rocking chair. you feel his eyes on you even when your back is turned to him.

“hey,” you call back to him dryly, turning and squinting against the brightness as you peer across the yard in his direction. he perks up when you acknowledge him, a brow drawn up in question. “you gonna help me with this? or at the very least pay for the show?”

nicholas stands, laughing a little at your lip, and hops off the edge of the raised porch to saunter over to you at the clothesline.

“pay for the show?” he asks, dipping down so he’s near to you under the brim of your sunhat. his nose is almost brushing yours, so close you think he might even kiss you, but suddenly he snags the next blanket from the wash basket and slinks back again. he shoots you a pointed look as he unfurls the sheet, something akin to a scowl though not quite as severe. “with what money?”

you pucker your lips slightly. he’s not wrong—the purse you keep tucked safely away in the back of your chest of drawers has gotten dangerously light these days—but he doesn’t need to say it like that.

“i can’t believe he blew another fucking job for us,” nicholas mutters with a derisive tch as the two of you work to fasten the wide cotton bed sheet to the line; stretching it out between your bodies until the full width separates you. you struggle to keep it secure as the damp edges flap in the wind. 

you clip your side of the linen down with a clothespin, and then hand him another from the edge of your apron so that he can do the same. he takes the pin without comment, his rough fingers brushing yours as they close around it and pluck it from your grasp.

“you know how he is, nico,” you say quietly, as you have many times in the past. “vash sees the best in people. he just wants to help them.”

“you can’t help wanted criminals,” nicholas bites sharply, pinning his side of the sheet down with an undue amount of force—the rest of the line bouncing lightly from how he’d jostled the length of cord.

you pause.

“we did.”

he huffs, shooting you a resentful look—half-guilty and half-frustrated, all because he knows you’re right.

“that’s different,” he murmurs.

“it’s not,” you counter, the wind lifting the edge of your skirt as it blows past, your eyes remaining unwaveringly fixed to his.

nicholas lets out a weary sigh to be caught and swept away by the breeze, rubbing at the back of his tanned neck as his body slackens in defeat. he stoops down and reaches for the next sheet in the basket.

the two of you work side by side in silence for a while, emptying the basket and filling up the clothesline. there’s nothing around you but the sound of the midday wind whistling through the valley, just the silence you’ve grown used to now after so long. vash went into town that morning to run some errands, so as it stands you and nicholas are the only people around for miles. 

“i’ll look for some more jobs in town to help make ends meet,” you say as you reach up with another clothespin in hand and secure the hem of one of your nightdresses down against the twine of the line. you reach over and do the same to the other side, angling into nicholas’ space as he holds the garment safely in place. “not like there’s any shortage of bullet wounds to patch up around here.”

nicholas catches the brim of your hat between his fingers, tilting it back so he can stare you clearly in the face.

“you’re not going around stitching up strange men,” he says firmly, something possessive and protective in his staunch, unswayable tone. “that’s the rule.”

you huff, your nose scrunching in a weak glare. it’s a rule you'd set for yourself years ago, long before nicholas stumbled into your life: you only tend to the medical needs of the town’s women, no exceptions. this guiding principle is as much for your own sake as it is for theirs, but the local women aren’t the ones running around getting shot in the first place, so while the rule is one that you’ve operated under for as long as you’ve been taking on odd doctoring jobs, lately it’s been holding you back—money’s never been this tight, so there’s never been a reason to change it, but things are different now.

“the girls don’t need me much these days,” you mumble softly, and it’s true: since you started helping more and more of the women in town (beyond just big annie’s working girls,) their overall wellness has improved significantly, which consequently means they don't need to see you nearly as much. “i’ve been taking good care of them.”

nicholas smiles then, a crooked, fond expression—as proud as it is warm. “yeah, you have.”

he lets his grip on your hat fall and leans away, and you do the same—stepping back around to the other side of the basket where you’d started. nicholas snags a cigarette from the holder he keeps on him at all times and pinches it between his lips, then starts fumbling around his pockets for a match.

you look out at the property around you; your little house on one side of the yard, the stable on the other, with the old well pump poised halfway in-between. you’re insulated from the worst of the heat and the elements in this little valley just outside of town, craggy rock formations stretching in a ring around your little homestead, protected on every side. you’ve even got a few meagre patches of green down here, beyond all the brush and bramble. 

it’s not much but it’s something; it’s yours and it’s home.

you turn to your husband, still digging around in his pockets for a match, and you pluck his sad little cigarette from his lips unceremoniously. nicholas looks down at you in surprise, finding you suddenly toe-to-toe with him again. this time you’re softer. this time you’re gentler as you intrude upon his space.

“we’ll make it work, nico,” you say to him with fluttering lashes and a tender gaze, tilting your face up towards his. you fiddle with the cigarette idly, watching the way the gold band on your finger glints in the sunlight. his eyes never stray from your face. “just like we always do.”

“hey!”

both you and the dark-haired man before you’s eyes snap to the other side of the valley at the loud, excited greeting that echoes through the yard. at the top of the beaten dirt path that leads in the direction of town, vash is approaching on horseback. he’s waving his arms overhead, moving at a quick canter like he’s eager to get to you. 

nicholas laughs under his breath at the sight. he steals his cigarette back from your still outstretched hand, tucking it quickly behind his ear, and his hand finds the small of your back. the two of you make your way towards the edge of the property to meet vash upon his arrival, watching as his mare paws at the ground when her rider pulls the reins to a stop.

“what’s all this?” you ask, your eyes tracing curiously over the array of goods that vash has hanging from his saddle. there’s food—you see some local vegetables and jars of pickles and jam—and a bolt of cloth that you can make out right away. he’s hours later returning home than you expected him to be when he departed that morning, and clearly he’d been busy.

vash hops down from his saddle, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and then another to nicholas’s. 

“what the hell have you been up to?” nicholas asks warily, his lips pulled into a thin line as he scrubs at the spot on his cheek vash had kissed—as though you aren't all perfectly aware of the pleased flush staining the tips of his ears. nicholas has every reason to be wary: vash hadn’t taken much money into town with him, just enough for the few errands he had to run, certainly not enough to explain the splendours he’d returned with.

“you know all the old ladies who sit outside the general store playing bridge?” the blonde asks, his eyes bright behind the lenses of his glasses as he ruffles his untidy hair. “well, one of them stopped me when i was leaving town and asked if i could help put one of her shutters back on since it blew off in that storm last week! once that was done, another one asked if i could look at her well pump because it’s been squeaking so much lately and too hard to turn. i helped out a couple other people while i was in town too! i told them they didn’t have to, but they kept giving me stuff when i was done.”

you feel a smile tug at your lips, peeking over at nicholas beside you to gauge his own reaction. his expression is flat, but you can tell he’s just as amused as you are.

“oh!” vash perks up, his eyes wide. he reaches into the saddle bag and pulls out the bolt of blue fabric you’d been appreciating a moment prior. “this isn’t from them though, it’s from that young couple who live above the post office.”

you know the couple he’s referring to well. they’d just had a baby a few months before, and you’d helped the young wife through her pregnancy and caught the baby when labour finally came. it was a little boy, no bigger than a loaf of bread the first time you’d held him, that they’d named samuel. 

“sammy’s getting big”—vash grins, squishing his own cheeks a little bit with his hands—“super cute and chubby too. they wanted you to have this to say thank you.”

he passes the fabric to you, and you cradle the tightly-wound bundle into the crook of your arm like it’s precious—because it is.

the things vash brought home aren’t enough to live off of indefinitely, but it’s something to help you get by for another little while—at least until another bounty comes through for the boys, or until another mother needs your hand to hold through the quickening of labour. 

it’s something. 

it’s enough for now.

you shoot nicholas a little smirk and he rolls his eyes at your blatant self-satisfaction, at your smugness that you’d been right about finding a way to get by. he looks over at vash who’s watching you both with expectant eyes, waiting eagerly (though perhaps unconsciously) for praise.

after a moment, nicholas plops a hand down into vash’s hair, ruffling it affectionately.

“good job,” he murmurs wryly, removing his hand and pressing a fleeting kiss to the crown he’d just been mussing. vash’s cheeks go pink and pretty at the gesture, teeming with pride. nicholas looks over at you next. “you too, kid.”

you smile, not as brilliant or beaming as vash’s, but with a happiness that’s every bit as sincere.

[saetoru]

girl same i just wanna sit on nai’s lap and kiss him and squeeze his tiddies is that so much to ask

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。HUMAN — MILLION KNIVES (NAI).

「 SYNOPSIS 」 nai can’t bring himself to hate you—until you almost make him feel human, that is

☽ contents ⋮ gn! reader, slightly suggestive but also not rly, fluff if you squint but also idk if it’s rly fluff, kissing and all that good stuff lolz

☽ notes ⋮ y’all saw his tiddies in todays episode right. we all saw that right. we all lost our minds right. RIGHT.

“nai,” you whisper, hands traveling along his abs, feeling the ridges of his taught muscles before settling for his chest, squeezing slightly as you pant against his mouth, “nai, i want you.”

he scoffs, and he wants to glare at you, but your lips nip at his jaw, suck sweetly at the skin, make his eyes flutter shut and his breath turn erratic as he holds back a grunt when you find a spot on his neck that makes him particularly hungry for you.

nai doesn’t like you.

which is a step up, you suppose—if you were anyone else, he’d hate you. if you were any other human, he’d despise your existence. but, for some unknown reason to even himself, nai doesn’t hate you.

for some reason, it’s hard to hate you—it’s not like he sees value in you, or that he even finds you all that tolerable. you still feed off plants, off his kind, off his brethren. you’re still every bit as guilty as the rest of the disgusting likes of humans. but somehow, he thinks you’re a bit fascinating, so he settles for disliking you instead of his usual hatred.

and it’s not that he makes an exception for you—or so he tells himself, that is. it’s a complicated situation, really: you seated on his lap, his hands gripping your waist, your mouth molding against his, his chest rising and falling with every slow stroke of your palm over the skin. it’s all a bit too complicated when he knows you’re supposed to eventually be dead like everyone else when the time for a new world comes.

because nai doesn’t like you, and he certainly doesn’t need you around—but he does love the way you make him feel when you kiss him like that.

your hands are cupping his cheeks, thumb stroking over the mole on the right side of his face under his eye—and for a moment, just a moment and nothing more, this rare, foreign gentleness of a human erases the atrocities.

but knives dislikes you, and he’ll never give you the satisfaction of knowing he wants you too.

“pathetic,” he spits, “how pathetic of you to think you’ll have me.”

“ah, but i do have you, don’t i?” you hum cheekily. how bold of you, he thinks, how bold and downright foolish you are to speak to him with such confidence, such little regard for your life.

it’s almost as if…as if you trust him. like you trust him not to kill you, to let your bravery slide and look past it. how utterly naive—and yet, it makes him all the more fascinated by you, makes him want to keep you around so he can observe you some more. perhaps kiss you too, and feel the warmth of your hand against his cool skin.

“you’re certainly confident for—” he’s cut off with a small grunt when your mouth finds his again, and then your hand is trailing to find the back of his neck, and then his hair, and then your fingers thread through the locks slowly, deliberately, gently.

like you’re taking care of him, like you’re not using him or taking from him for your own gain. like you’re here just to give and give even if you can’t take.

and for a moment, nai wonders if you’re really human. you must be greater than that, he decides. you must be something far more divine than a human—and it must be why he’s unable to loathe you like the rest of humanity.

it must be it—it has to be, he almost reasons desperately. why else would he of all people melt under your touch like this?

“you can’t get rid of me,” you murmur, pressing sweet, delicate kisses to the corners of his mouth, scratching at his scalp with tenderness he’s only seen once from a human before. “im staying right here, nai. with you.”

“yes,” he decides, gripping your hips tighter, pulling you a tad bit closer, “yes you’ll stay right here. under my watch.”

and then you kiss him again, sat on his lap as your hands explore his chest and your lips chase his own—and nai decides maybe it’s not so hard to hate you, after all.

he hates the way you make him almost wish he was human for a short moment.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[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...

[trigunwritings]

Vash x Fem!Reader

Vash slowly realizing that he’s falling in love with her and might even wanna marry her one day. Just him enjoying every bit of time he spends with her.

When the thought first crosses his mind, its too early in the morning to ponder upon it—the sun has barely risen from its hiding spot behind the horizon, and the sky is aglow in pinks and oranges so beautiful that it’s hard to believe someone could die beneath it in the span of just a few hours. The land is barren for iles beyond where the sand kisses the sky, but it looks so peaceful at a mere glance. Strokes of golden dunes beneath the brief but peaceful dawn.

But the sky isn’t what’s holding Vash’s attention.

You must have gotten up early, possibly when the sky was dark and the stars still visible. You’re lightly dressed, but facing away from him and sipping lightly a drink which must have been warmed by the fire not too long ago given that the ashes are still smoldering. Coffee? Tea? Vash can’t tell, but it smells nice on the soft morning breeze.

He watches your silhouette against the horizon as the thought crosses his mind for a second time, but ultimately decides it’s better to pretend that he’s still sleeping.

-

When it happens again, the two of you are at a nameless bar in an equally nameless town—one of many across this stretch of the desert, if only because of the multiple reserves of ground water and compact soil that make it easier to grow small patches of crops. Not easy, but easier; there’s always a difference.

But it means the town is lively and the booze is all too easy to get ahold of. Vash never intended for the two of you to get tipsy, but you’re giggling at his stupid jokes all the same with a soft smile that never quite leaves your lips.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Vash feels his heart race for the entire evening, even when he finally retires to his rented bed, and tries not to think of you in the room next door and how nice it might be to sleep beside you.

He fails spectacularly and barely gets a moment of rest in the entire night.

-

It’s almost too easy to ignore his injury. Given that his body is more scars than smooth flesh, Vash can ignore a majority of the pain flashing and flaring across his thoughts. It was a small bullet, and it had just barely caught the side of his abdomen—missed anything important, but there was still so much blood to deal with.

He tries to assure you that he’s okay, but it doesn’t help; you fuss over him with hands grasping at his coat, tugging off his layers of clothes until fear is gripping harder around Vash’s heart than the pain of being shot. But before he can say anything, before he can even prepare himself for the inevitable disgust-laced pity sure to come over your eyes, your hands are already tearing apart strips of cloth from anything you can spare to destroy off your own body.

Don’t you notice? Don’t you see? The countless marks, the poorly-healed wounds and broken bones of a man who would barely keep his own mind and body together.

Still, the look across your tear-filled eyes is nothing short of desperate and miserable, voice muddled with sobs as you try to assure Vash that he’s going to be okay, even as your hands are stained with his blood soaking through all the layers of makeshift gauze.

And Vash—the one who is injured, the one who should arguably be the most concerned in the situation—can only feel one thing as he watches you cry for him.

The pain is dull and distant in comparison.

-

“I love you.”

Vash blinks, taken a bit by surprise when the words leaves your lips. It takes a few moments for him to fully comprehend what you’ve said, and a few moments more to react to it—his eyes widen and his heart starts to race just like that one drunken night together, only this time he can’t blame the alcohol.

You look so scared. Eyes flickering across the ground as if unable to meet his, your hands twisting together so tight that he’s almost worried that you’ll hurt yourself without meaning to.

But the words, they echo over and over themselves within his mind.

And this time, the response comes from him all too easily. It’s natural and instinctive, blooming forth like a flower as it drinks up the sunlight. No longer idle thoughts, no longer ignored, no longer denied.

“I love you too.”

And he wants to keep repeating it forever.

[chris-continues]

I need to write Vash being like so desperately in love with you he fucking sobs at being touched by you

He holds your hand to his cheek and begs you to not let go because he doesn’t think he could take it if you pulled away. If you left, what would he even do?

Your warm palm against his cheek is streaked with tears as he kisses it, small peck given to your palm, the pulse thrumming under his lips at yoir wrist as he kisses it again.

And when his vision clears once more to look at you? The caring gaze you give him, softened with worry and the utmost care?

He thinks he’s going to break down and be built anew by your loving hands, hands he most certainly doesn’t deserve but he clings to. Begging you. Please, don’t leave me. Don’t leave. Please stay.

Love him.

@lune010

[fruitsoxs]

I just read the jealousy drably you posted and I already really enjoy your writing! I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort and I was wondering if we could get a part 2 of sorts with comforting and loving Vash after realizing the situation made him a bit upset/ jealous. Whether you write it or not, I can’t wait to see your further work 👍

i decided to throw these two requests together!

Part 1

pairings: vash x reader , wolfwood x reader

warnings: a bit of angst, vash cries, wolfwood is kind of a jerk

notes: yeah- part 2 so soon for you babes. ily all! he one bed trope is kinda weak here so i think i might write another drabble or fic later because I love that trope. also is this a little too long to be a drabble? idk

Vash

Your eyes flicker to the man beside you for a moment. He’s not looking at you- no his eyes are conveniently tracing every other thing in this room but you. His blue eyes refuse to land on you, no matter how much you try to intercept his vision. You briefly wonder how long he can look at the same lamp before getting bored, but your sarcastic thoughts are cut short when he finally speaks up.

“I’ll switch with Meryl-” Vash says suddenly causing your eyes to widen in confusion. 

What is going on with him? 

Sure this room only has one bed. Yeah it’s a little awkward, but it’s never been such a big problem before. In fact, you have been traveling with Vash for so long that it has happened multiple times before and has never been this big of a deal! You thought the two of you were close enough that something this small wouldn’t matter- but apparently you were wrong.

Actually, Vash has been acting like this for a little over a week now. He’s been avoiding your gaze, not talking to you, and even refusing to joke around like he once did. Every time you try to approach him, it feels like he’s putting up this wall to keep you away. Even the others have started to notice. Wolfwood has been giving the two of you curious glances, and he’s kinda bad at picking up on that stuff.

You’re honestly starting to get tired of it- he’s given you no explanation about why he’s suddenly distant, and it’s beginning to really hurt. You aren’t just close with him, you’re pretty much in love with him. You have been for a long time- and while you don’t mind staying friends, it hurts more than anything to have him push you away this far.

“Don’t bother.” You finally answer after a moment of silence. “They won’t switch with either of us- they did this on purpose.” You explain throwing your bag into the corner of the room. Vash flinches at this- and you sighand take a deep breath. 

Another awkward silence fills the room, and you find yourself staring at him as he avoids your gaze again. His eyes shoot over to you for only half a second before they go back to that stupid lamp. A deep anger starts to bubble up in your chest. You don’t like getting mad at him. You barely ever do. But right now? He’s hurting you. Every time he looks away, every time he ignores you, it makes your heart sting.

You can’t even think of a reason why he’s doing this! It all started a week ago after a night at the bar. You went to grab everyone some drinks, and when you came back Vash was gone. When you asked, Wolfwood just shrugged and told you he went to bed. After that? Nothing.

“Which side do you want?” You ask, trying desperately to get anything out of him. Vash just shrugs. “I’ll take the floor.” He says without even turning to you.

Your heart sinks. What have you done? You don’t understand. 

“What is going on with you?” You suddenly ask, a little angrier than you mean to be. You can see a change in his body immediately. He goes rigged- tense. “What do you mean?” He asks. You sigh and slump down onto the bed- resting your head in your hands. “You’ve been quiet- too quiet. Every time I try to talk to you, you find some excuse to walk away. You won’t sit next to me in the car. You refuse to even look at me-” You cut yourself off, feeling tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “What did I do?”

He looks over at you with wide eyes. It’s the first time he’s looked at you in days, and now you can see that something is very wrong. His eyes are dark- his face is pale. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. 

Oh.

You’re so stupid. All this time you’ve been so hurt by him ignoring you, you haven’t really paid attention to him. This isn’t about you, or maybe it is, but there’s obviously something deeper happening here. There’s something really wrong.

“You didn’t do anything. I-” He starts to explain- but can’t seem to get it out. He turns away from you again. “It’s me.” He finally concludes. In the moonlight from the window you can see his shoulders shake slightly. 

“Oh Vash��” You immediately get up and reach out for his arm, he doesn’t stop you. You grab him and pull him close, hugging him tightly. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t hug you back for a second- his body stiff. Eventually though, his arms wrap around you and he pulls you close. The hug feels normal- like you’ve done it a thousand times before. And to be fair- you have. 

“The other day at the bar…that guy was flirting with you.” Vash murmurs, and your eyes widen. That silly random doctor? He was a bit funny yes- but you only were talking to him because you felt a little cornered. You don’t even remember what that guy looks like. “I saw you laughing- and I just got so jealous.” 

Your heart flutters softly. He was jealous?

“And…I just kept thinking that I have no right to feel that way. I have no right to think of you that way. Everyone around me always gets hurt, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He’s crying as he explains this, light tears dripping from his cheeks onto your shoulder. “But I can’t help but be selfish. You’re more than my best friend I…” he trails off choking up. “I love you.”

You feel your breathing stop for a moment. The room goes eerily quiet. The onlys pounds you can hear are his soft sobs, and your heartbeat. You tighten your hold on him, so he can’t even try to pull away. “I…I love you  too.” You admit softly.

“But-”

“No. I love you too. You can’t…you can’t do this to yourself. You can’t force yourself to be isolated from the world. I don’t want you to push me away- I don’t care what your reasoning is.” You cling to him as you speak. “I want to be by your side. Please let me.” You beg softly.

His arms tighten around you too, and he shoves his face into your hair, still crying quietly. You rub his back with your hand, and murmur soft words into his skin until he calms down. Soon, the two of you are just holding each other in the moonlight. 

“Okay.” is all he says, pulling away. He’s smiling down at you through red eyes, and it’s the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. “I promise, I won’t push you away ever again.”

You reach your hand up to his cheek, and he turns his face to kiss your palm lightly. The two of you stare at each other for a second. “I’ll take the left side.” he breaks the moment with a playful grin and you giggle.

The rest of the night is spent cuddling and talking about your feelings. The only tears shed after that are happy tears.

Wolfwood

Despite having a romantic dance at a random bar (and yes, Wolfwood is a surprisingly good dancer) the next day things go back as they always are. Actually, things feel a little bit worse even. After weeks of trying to break down Wolfwood’s ridiculously high walls, you were finally granted a pleasant evening in his arms- only to immediately be cussed at for sitting a little too close to him in the car the next day.

It’s not like you were sitting on his lap either! All you did was softly press your leg up against his, because Vash was once again thrashing in his sleep- and he pushed you over and grumbled for you to get back in your own fucking seat. Charming right? 

Things kept getting worse after that. You two started bickering more. You both started to refuse to talk to each other at some point, forcing poor Vash to be your messenger(he was not a fan of telling you to fuck yourself for Wolfwood). You even got into a tiny argument over directions, that resulted into a bigger argument about how utterly useless you are. (Which definitely did not make you cry that night)

The others in the group were starting to get really fed up with the two of you. 

Which is how you ended up here- standing in the hallway to your tiny hotel room with Wolfwood staring at you from the doorway. He looks over to the single bed in the room, and glares at you. “This is my room.” he says matter of factly, putting his Punisher down against the wall. 

“No, I’m pretty sure this is my room.” you respond, crossing your arms.

“One second.” He huffs disappearing out into the hallway. You wait a moment, staring at where he once was with a frown. When he comes back he looks like he’s considerably more angry. “Apparently- it’s our room.” He mumbles shoving past you. 

Your eyes widen a bit, but you’re not as surprised as you should be. Meryl is sneaky when she wants to be.

There’s some shuffling behind you, and you turn to see Wolfwood grabbing some pillows and throwing them on the ground. He’s got a look on his face that’s not quite a frown. It actually looks more anxious than anything. It makes your own anger fall. 

“What are you doing?” You ask tilting your head as he messes with his floor pillows. “I’m sleeping on the ground.” he tells you, looking up for only a split second. You notice that there’s a sucker in his mouth that’s almost completely gone- it’s his second one in the past hour. He must be stressing over something.

“No you’re not.” You sigh and lean down to pick up his pillows. He catches your wrist softly, stopping you. “Yes I am.” he argues back. His grip is nothing short of respectful, so soft that you actually don’t even think of pulling away. “No, I won’t let you.” you shoot back, making him roll his eyes.

“What’re you gonna do? Force me to sleep on the bed?”

“Actually yeah- I am.”

“Oh? And how are you gonna do that Angel?”

The nickname makes you perk up a bit. It’s been a couple of days since he called you that. Maybe this means the stick up his ass is finally gone?

“Just sleep in the damn bed Wolfwood-”

“I don’t want to-” He growls, glaring at you once again. His look seems to say ‘Stop pushing me’, but you’ve never been so good at obeying warnings. So you grab his pillow and yank it away from the floor. “Too bad!” You yell, trying to throw the stupid thing back onto the bed. He stops you by yanking the pillow back towards him.

The two of you stop and glare at each other, both holding onto the pillow like children. The stare off goes on until you finally give up, sighing. “Look, if you don’t want to sleep next to me that bad- I’ll sleep on the floor.” You mumble, your chest suddenly feeling very tight.

“That’s not it…”

“ Don’t argue with me. You carry around that stupidly big cross all day- wait what?”

Your eyes meet his, and he looks down at the floor. There’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks, so faint you can barely see it. “I said that’s not it. It’s not that I don’t wanna sleep next to ya…” He lets go of the pillow with a sigh, and fishes into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. In silence, he places it into his mouth and lights it.

“Then what’s the problem?” You ask a little confused. If that’s not what his issue is then what is it? Does he think you don’t want to? You’ve made it pretty clear that you wouldn’t mind! So what’s his deal?

“The problem is....” He starts looking at you as he breathes some smoke out. “I want to.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you look at him. “Oh.” is all you can say as your cheeks flush red. He wants to? He wants to sleep with you? He wouldn’t be this upset if he meant platonically right? He’s definitely hinting at something right? His cheeks are a bit red too

“Me too…” you finally admit after. He laughs at your words and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah I figured. You were pretty aggressive about getting me into bed.” He mumbles playfully leaning down to pick up the pillow, and throws it over onto the bed. You can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth twist upward.

After a few moments of silence, he steps towards you and puts his hand on your cheek. “I’m sorry for being an ass recently. I just…I don’t know how to deal with this stuff.” He mumbles looking down into your eyes. “It’s okay Nick…We can take it slowly. We can figure it out as we go…” you reply softly. He smiles down at you. “You’re too good for me.”

And then, he kisses you. It’s so soft, and so careful. His lips are only against yours for a moment before he pulls away. “Let’s get some rest.”

small a/n: as always let me know if you see any typos- i only have someone to beta read my full fics, and i cannot correct my own writing.

[novasintheroom]

Smell is one of Vash’s favorite senses.

It wasn’t before he met you. Before you, smells were just smells. The hot air of the desert, the metallic tang of bullets too close, B.O. in a bar, the smell of the day’s stew being boiled in the back. All information telling him a million different things. Some of them he even likes! Especially donuts.

But then you come along and you rub your hands with apple scented lotion, you spray yourself with rose water, your breath is minty fresh and you smell clean. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the smell of cleanliness ‘til he travelled with you. He only smells cleanliness when visiting Home – and you’re becoming a second home to him. It’s hard to stay clean out in the wastes, he knows better than most. He appreciates what you put into your cleanliness so much.

He gets into the habit of looking for lotions or body sprays you (and he) would like. You complain once that you’re nearly out of your lotion, and the next day a new bottle is sitting on your bag, because he keeps emergency bottles just for cases like this. He starts smelling his own clothes, trying to not bother you with any sweat smells (though he’s been told that he only ever smells fresh, which must have something to do with his Plant DNA). He becomes so much more aware of scent after you.

And when you aren’t travelling together, when you must go your own ways for a day, or a month, or a year, he looks for you through scents. A whiff of apples will bring back memories of your soft hands and bright grin. Roses are subtle and remind him of the jokes you’d say to get him smiling after being run out of town. He buys these things now and uses them every once in a while when he’s feeling lonely.

Vash always waits for the day when roses and apples will come back into his life, and you always do.

[jellys-compendium]

Care for some more spicy Dad!Vash?