#vash drabble

[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.

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[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.

[ceruleansol-archive]

Vash is out on the porch peeling apples while the sun is slowly dying.

The world is cast in orange, and the red falling from his hands is sweet this time and holds no guilt to carry forward.

Vash peels the fresh apple with a simple knife. It’s small and fits in his pocket for the next time.

When the ground is covered and the fruit is bare, the slices are halves of a whole before they break further to share.

[aztecbrujeria]

Vash x F!OC Malena

Malena and Vash are have just escaped a gun fight that caught them entangled in the sprawling city. The pair find themselves in the tiny alleyway catching their breath when things take a turn when Gunpowder and adrenaline mix together. WC: 1.6k

TW: First Person POV (If you don't like that you know where the door is), FtM Trans Vash, Vash w/Plant Pussy, Juicy Plant Tdick (Plant he can manifest a juicy dick if his partner desires), Plant Markings, Plant Pussy eating (Includes pussy latching onto OC's face), Plant Fingering, Kissing, Licking, Body Worship, small panic about feelings, Mention of Voyuerism

As always MINORS PISS OFF

He was blushing who would have thought that the feeling of my soft chest hidden beneath my tailored men’s clothes against his in that alley would trigger a blushing plant. The markings on his skin shimmered briefly from the close contact like stars that shimmered before disappearing beneath the surface. 

One strong arm around my waist pulling me closer, my legs wide to brace myself for an oncoming fight, one of his thighs landed between my center, the alleyway was so small we were playing twister. If I was a mortal man I know I wouldn’t have been able to hide an oncoming erection. As he looked out from the cramped space he moved his thigh giving me sinful friction between my thighs causing me to groan.

“Fuck.”

I could feel my nipples pearl against the cotton fabric of my shirt and became more aware of the feel of him against me, “No! I can- GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER MELENA!” My brain was screaming at the betrayal of my body and the adrenaline rush from the gun fight earlier; these two aphrodisiacs were a bomb waiting to go off.

It was the feeling of his arm pulling me closer and harder into his thigh that set off the trigger.

“Vash…”

Instinct took over, he snapped his eyes back to me from the world outside as I huskily said his name, I took his lips and heard him moan in surprise as I pulled him into me. My tongue hungrily traced the seam of his perfect lips greedily seeking entrance, he tasted like citrus and early morning dew. 

My urgency was met with his own as his hands roamed up my back sending every firing ounce of desire to my aching sex faster than my synapses could register. I didn’t even realize I still had my hand cannon un-holstered from the gunfight earlier. 

Breaking the kiss I stepped back a couple of heavy steps until the cool wall of the other building was against me. My hand still on his jacket and my gun relaxed by my side. I had to catch my breath. I didn't want to be the asshole, but I had already stolen a kiss without asking.

I sought out his hazel eyes, heavy with desire mirroring my own, but I wanted permission.

“Vash…just tell me yes or no.”

My voice was thick with my arousal, but I wasn’t going to give in until he said unequivocally “yes”.

“Please, yes, fuck yes! I’ve wai–”

With permission finally given, I holstered my pistol quickly, while pushing him back against the other wall with hand splayed out over his chest.

“Don’t move…I’ve thought of nothing but making you cry out my name since I caught you three fucking.”

I practically growled out the confession about me having seen and watched Vashwood, Strife, and him. I felt how wet I was getting remembering that night whenever I touched myself, too many to count now, to the memory of their bodies intertwined and slick from their love making.

“Mel-…”

Vash’s voice was cute as if he practically purred at the thought as I stood close to him. Running my hand up to his throat I closed around it just enough to watch as his head fell back and eyes rolled back.

“You like being my sweet baby girl, don’t you?”

He keened at my pet name for him. Gods, he was the perfect kind of pathetic sweet to rot the soul.

“I wouldn’t have believed The human stampede would turn to putty in my hands when treated like a princess.”

He whined so sweetly it made me clench. The way his face was already wrecked and I hadn’t even touched him yet.

I pulled him into another ravenous kiss, so sloppy, I didn’t care if someone heard how wet and heavy our makeout was.

Vash was a good boy, staying against the wall, hands on my hips, while my own fingers pushed his jacket off his shoulders so I could break the kiss and trace down his neck to the top of his skin tight shirt.

I found purchase on his soft skin while I bit down and sucked to mark his throat with a blossoming bruise following my desire to mark his bare, scarred shoulders. 

While I deftly followed the planes of his torso down the button of his pants. I took my boot and spread his legs wider, earning a gasp from his lips. 

Undoing his pants and sliding my fingers under the band of his briefs I felt his stomach clench and I giggled.

“Don’t be shy baby, let me hear you, no one’s gonna notice us.”

Vash moaned and began pleading as I slipped my hand further into his underwear and found his pussy sticky and slick from him being turned on. Caressing his swollen petals, blossoming to let me explore, just at the right moment I placed the heel of my palm upon the throbbing node of his sex. I heard him gasp as my first digit carefully slid in. 

With finesse I curled my digit and found his most sensitive spot to press against it slowly. I watched his cute mouth open to let a deep guttural moan out. I kissed him again, savoring his taste.

Pressing against his gspot letting him get used to me I watched the way he brought the back of his hand up and tried to muffle the sound of my name on his lips. I smirked at him, cooing praise, as I added another finger to coax more from his dripping sex.

His legs began to shake as I forced them to stay wide with my boot. His eyes were starting to brim with tears at how devilishly slow I was finger fucking him.

“You like that, hmmm? You feel divine, princess…I wanna hear you, Vash, let me hear you.” 

He grabbed my shoulder as he began to rut into my small hand. Grinding his throbbing dick down, more sinful slick coating my hand, I couldn’t wait any longer. The way his breathing was getting and the sound of his pleasure made my pace pick up. Just as his fingers bruised my hips and he was close I wanted him in my mouth.

I pulled my hand out of his briefs and watched him pout as I pulled my touch away. Fuck, this man was perfect.

“I wanna taste you.”

I got on my knees and pulled his pants down and looked back up as I kissed each of his hip bones, traced every scar and patch of biotech on his thighs, and nipped at the inside of his muscular legs.

Vash ran his cool fingers in my hair as he watched me make my way back to the now blooming organ. My eyes grew bigger with wonder as I got closer and let him feel my hot breath before testing the sensitivity of the petals that seem to reach out. I smiled like a predator back up at him as he begged. 

My pink lingual muscle became more confident stroking between swollen quivering lips that reacted to my ministrations blooming more and more, giving way to the sweetest taste. Tracing the edges of Vash’s perfect puffy lips had caused him to glow with his marking as his opening to pussy began to quiver, I felt his fingers begin to fist my hair.

“Melena…please!”

I moaned as I dove in, stronger strokes, making out with his perfect lips before following the path to latch onto his throbbing dick. I felt his fingers grip tighter, my own pleasure blossoming from the way he looked, the marks on his skin appearing and glowing.

Slow, methodical, lips smacking, sucking until I tasted his essence and let my tongue enter into his pulsing walls. I took every drop I wanted more, I was hungry, reaching for his legs I hooked them over my shoulders to wrap my own strong arms around them and keep eating while my nose teased his dick.

He was close as both hands now fisted my hair, his legs hanging, while he threw his head back and cried out my name. 

“M-MELENA…oh FUCK!”

My knees felt nothing of the extra pain, I was soaking wet in my own panties, and I loved the way he rutted against my mouth as I felt him clench around me.

Mouth still full, I spoke with it between deliciously lewd slurps.

“Cum for me princess…cum…”

And just like that he screamed as the petals of his anatomy clamped down around my face driving me deeper into his juicy cunt. I moaned between each pulse of his walls while my tongue took every glorious drop. He twitched above me as his marking shined brighter than stars.

When his petals let me go and I came up to catch my breath I let him down carefully and stood up, pulling up his pants for him, licking my lips while having a shit eating grin. 

He surprised me and pulled me into a messy kiss as he tasted himself on me before resting his forehead on mine and chuckled.

“Fuck, that was…I…and you didn’t even get scared of my downstairs.”

I laughed. How strange that he thought I’d give a shit, I just liked him for him.

“Vash. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was a space monster. I like you for you.”

He started to laugh in that alleyway and fuck did my heart flutter. I knew what that meant and I started to panic for a few moments before Vash pulled me in for another sweet kiss. The kind of kiss filled with promises and happy things. Things I didn’t deserve.. 

“Dammit…I’m falling for this donut hole.”

[novasintheroom]

I think Vash is very aware of his jealousy when he sees you flirting with someone else and feels genuinely bad about it.

Like, what claim does he have over you, right? You two aren't dating, and it's not like you two have acted on any feelings toward each other (him especially).

But still, he can't help but vie for your attention now. He'll get between you and that guy "on accident" just to ask you a question. Budge between you two while walking so that Vash is the one closest to you, not the new guy. You'll give him a weird look, and he feels like a jerk, but he can't help it.

Like he'll try to tone it down. My word does he try. But he's never been this romantically close to someone before, and these feelings, while he's seen them from others, are new to him, and he's not sure how to process them at first. He tells himself to be an adult, he's 150 years old for goodness' sake. But he feels like a schoolboy around you, all eager and desperate to have your eyes on him and only him.

Please reassure him in private that you're not going anywhere. Maybe you're aware of his feelings, maybe you aren't, but you can recognize the jealousy of a friend a mile away. Assure him he's your best friend, and no rando is going to get between you two. :)

[ladybyakuya]

MOONLESS NIGHTS.

cws ✦ fem!reader, boyfriend!vash,pussy-drunk!nai, mention of ovulation, periods, consensual, m→f-oral-receiving, polyamory if you squint.

syn ✦ an impromptu movie night turns out to be more interesting than the movie.

✦ redirect to blog navigation.

“Oh my my Nai, are you okay?” Vash asks while he chuckles. You can feel his chest reverberate at your back but the sensation is too short-lived to be negligible. Nai does not respond to his brother, just hums as he buries his face deeper into your cunt. His nose is practically rubbing up and down at the apex of your pussy while his tongue is in between your folds.

Vash places a soft kiss against your temple. His hands are clamped over your knees keeping your folded legs far apart from each other providing Nai as much space as possible so that he can have a taste of you. Your ovulation period is going to end soon, maybe today or tomorrow or maybe now. Vash is going to make sure Nai remembers how you taste because you are going to taste different when your red week is over.

Nai has his eyes closed, hands underneath your thighs, fingers digging into your skin creating dips as he eats your pussy relentlessly. There is a yakuza movie playing on the television, a murder scene followed by a packed sequence of fighting but of course with jazz music playing in background. Needless to say, none of you are paying attention to the movie not even bothered enough to turn it off or turn the mute mode on. Vash said, “It’s a nice addition.”

You did not think a movie night with your boyfriend and his brother would end up with you being in between them. You can barely think swating his head away or moving or building up some sort of resistance. You do not want to move but have to keep the urge to buck your hips against Nai's face at bay because Vash would not like that. Vash just said, “Stay still baby. Stay still. Hmmm? ” to you, and when Vash says something in a firm even tone, you listen; you listen to him like the good pet you are to him, which is why he is sitting behind you with his chest against your back holding your legs for his dear brother, Nai. God! he's such a mess right now. You are no better. The velvet skin of the couch has turned into it's darker shade.

It actually started with mere a question.

“Nai, have ever gone down on someone?”

The crunch of popcorn seemed loud to your ears as Vash lets his arm encapsulate around your shoulders which was resting on the backbone of the couch a while ago.

“why are you asking?” You held your breath as another moment of silence lingers in the air.

“Just answer.” Vash states finally shifting his gaze on his brother who was still watching the movie, well at least tried to.

“No. Never. Didn't have the chance!”

What happened next was a delight to Vash’s eyes. You wet your bottom lip in a quick swipe of tongue.

Vash pulls you closer to his side saying, “Would you like to try?”

Nervousness crawled all over your skin and of course Vash noticed, you were his girlfriend after all. The room fell into silence once again, accompanied by a heavy tension that three of you were obviously aware of. Vash had always noticed the yearn in his brother's eyes from time to time for you. He is seeing it now so he did not hesitate one bit to explore more about it.

Vash brings his face near your ears whispering, “Why do you say love? Care to help my pathetic brother out?” It was not a question and you were aware of that.

Nai could hear him. The popcorn in between his index finger and thumb fell and rolled onto the floor. He could not believe his ears. Both of them were looking at you now and all you had to do was to nod.

And when you did, you did not had to do anything else. Just follow Vash’s lead that had Nai peeled off your jeans from your skin, followed by your underwear having your pussy at display as Vash held your legs open positioning you in Nai's direction.

Nai did not waste any time from putting his mouth in between your legs. In fact, you could feel how desperate and needy he became as he kept slobbering up your juices. You did not mind, neither there was any resistance of sort; just ownership and surrender. Nai could not get enough of you. Even though you came he kept going. Vash could feel how intense the orgasm was for you since the fingers that interlaced with Vash’s became too tight for a few seconds and then became so lithe that Vash almost felt lonely.

Nai straightens himself up to finally take a breather. With his wings and tentacles spreading out from his back, he looked so handsome, so divine, especially with that craving in his eyes for more. How come you never noticed it?

“Now,” Vash deadpanned, “kiss her.”

“But—” Nai hesitates so you hold his face in between your palms pulling him into a kiss. His breath hitches but he gives in. You kiss him quite long you think before you feel Vash’s cold hands slipping under your top, fondling your boobs over your bra. A moan escaped from you making Nai sink into your kiss deeper. You felt another pair of lips upon the croon of your shoulders, as Vash’s arms travelled down to your torso lifting you up a little to have you onto his lap.

Nai is now deprived of your soft candy flavoured lips. He looks at you with lustful yearn filled in his eyes. He just wants to be inside you.

“My turn,” Vash says as he positions you on his bare thighs. He can not wait to be inside you which is evident from how is cock protrudes from the slit in his crotch. He thinks that by the time the movie ends he will make sure that your hunger for this movie night is satisfied up to the brim. It was your idea to include Nai, after all.

networks | @interstellar-inn @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum @pixelcafe-network @underratedcharactercorner

mutuals | @kentocalls @theoxenfree

[josujosu]

post-trimax vashwood where they each have their own moment of awe after waking up and realizing they don’t have to fight the big fight anymore (minus the bounty hunters bc of course they’re still wanted men).

when wolfwood wakes up from a dreamless sleep, the sun is hitting his eyes. he waits for the sound of yelling, shots being fired, doors opening and slamming, the sound of a huge daunting ship approaching above them, and maybe—just maybe—the sound of a heavy jacket being put on and boots walking further and further away. there was nothing for a good solid twenty minutes before he realized nothing was happening. at least not yet. he kinda just starts feeling around the bed, himself, eventually landing on vash who’s sleeping soundly. the last time he’s ever seen vash sleep that calmly before was back at home. wolfwood just stares at him in awe before nudging the space between vash’s eyebrows. he groans and flips over which gives wolfwood a better view of his now stark-black hair, almost matching his own. vash won’t tell him what happened, not yet, but he guesses nothing good. the twisted feeling that had begun to rise in his stomach felt familiar and comfortable, but then he heard vash softly snoring and the feeling slowly diminished.

he spent the rest of that morning playing with vash’s hair and listening to him snore until he was able to fall back sleep.

when vash wakes up, he stares. he stares for hours until wolfwood wakes up. he can’t find it in him to cry but he isn’t smiling either. he feels numb, thoughts of imminent death and danger running amok. it takes a minute for vash’s brain to catch up with the present, taking in the sunbeam coming through the window, the feel of the soft blanket covering him up to his neck, the cards strewn across the table from the game he and wolfwood played last night—

he stops his analysis of everything in front of him and whips his head to wolfwood who’s in a half asleep state, eyelids just barely open and soft sleep-ridden breaths. vash doesn’t breathe himself until wolfwood takes one deep breath and exhales, the air hitting vash’s bangs. vash visibly relaxes and it’s almost too much as his body feels like jelly, he can’t be bothered to move. he speaks wolfwood’s name, his voice barely a whisper and wolfwood responds with a low unbothered grunt. that’s good enough for vash as he takes that as his cue to fall back asleep.

[seijorhi]

tw: date-rape, breeding kink, pregnancy

when you find out you're pregnant after being drugged and assaulted at a party, your best friend vash is the one you turn to for help. he convinces you to keep it. the baby growing inside of you, it didn't have a say in its conception, he tells you. it's innocent in all of this. a terrible thing happened to you, he won't argue that, but... maybe some good can come of it, with this tiny little life that's yours. you'll be a great mom, vash knows that better than anyone.

and he'll be with you every step of the way, he swears it. he'll take you to all your appointments and help baby proof your apartment, he'll even go out on those late night snack runs when your cravings kick in. he'll be your shoulder to cry on, the one you turn to when you're close to breaking, your whole support system in one. vash'll do whatever he needs to – say whatever he needs to – to make sure you don't give this baby up.

he's not exactly proud of the steps he took to get you here, but it's partially your fault, too. if you weren't so stubborn he could've done it the right way. he wouldn't need to lie to you.

but it's okay, all that matters is that you're here with him, and your baby's safe and this budding family of his – he's gonna protect it with everything he's got.

[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." 

[into-the-feniverse]

Club encounter💘

[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.

[shmothman]

Uncanny Vash rambling… (drabble, 405 words)

Vash keeps anything inhuman about himself buried deep inside. His long coat and layers obscure proportions that aren’t quite right, his hands always moving, flourishing—trick shots to distract from the things that separate him from humanity. His grin is practiced like the rest of him, showing off just the right amount of teeth and nothing more; not too wide, not too sharp. The alternative—being seen for what he is—is too dangerous, both to him and, more importantly, to the people he comes in contact with.

But… with time, and with trust, every part of Vash’s mask begins to slip. It’s the little things, first: there’s no way to hide the differences in his body when he’s bleeding out on the mattress of an inn, careful hands digging bullets out of his side; no way to hide the peek of sharp teeth when he smiles for real. His laugher is more resonant, almost grating or ringing—slightly metallic as it claws its way out of his chest. And when the truth comes out—when he interacts with the plants, and those feathery appendages make themselves known—he fears. Fears that this is it. Fears that he’ll have to be alone once more. (And shouldn’t he be hoping for that? Isn’t that safer for everyone?)

That isn’t what happens. And now that it isn’t a secret, everything becomes so much harder to hide. It’s been so long since he acted like himself, so long since Rem smiled at the way he glowed in the darkness of the ship’s bay, where all those people slept, oblivious to the misfortune about to befall the human race. So long since the first time anyone called him monster. It’s like coaxing a wounded animal out of its den; Vash has never felt safe, on this planet, but pretending is certainly safer than not. Still, he can’t deny the relief of being able to let out a clicking chitter when he’s pleased, of rolling and popping his joints in ways that would make a human cringe—of holding someone close and letting the rumbling of his chest do the talking. It’s far too easy to become comfortable in this.

The rational part of his mind reminds him that this is fleeting, that he’d better not get used to this oasis in the desert. There’s so little he allows himself, but this he can’t deny.

For now, at least.

He reasons that he’s always been rather selfish.

[fruitsoxs]

Hello different anon here to request one of my favorite things: reverse jealousy. How would the two lads feel about the reader feeling jealous over them?

sorry this took so long to do!! I made it a bit longer to make up for it <3

pairings: vash x reader , wolfwood x reader

warnings: once again there's some angst, insecurity, self doubt, swearing, wolfwood has some feelings, reader is a bit of a dumb ass in vash's part haha

notes: i kinda went off with this?? it didn't go where I thought it would that's for sure haha.

Vash

There’s a small fire that builds up inside of you every time this person touches Vash. It’s an anger you can’t really describe. It has you feeling jittery and useless. They aren’t being forceful with him, and he seems okay with the soft touches. That just makes you more uncomfortable as you walk behind the two of them. 

They’re probably just thankful. Vash did just save their life. Anybody would be thankful if a handsome stranger ran in and ripped you away from a bunch of bandits. Especially on a planet like Gunsmoke, where everybody is only worried about themselves. There aren’t very many selfless heroes like Vash, so when they come around you tend to be thankful.

But there’s something about the way their hand lingers on his arm after they stumble closer to him. Or how they keep interrupting you, making it feel like you can’t talk. They seem to be pushing you into the background as you walk across the desert planet towards the nearest town. Despite there being enough room for you to join the two side by side, you feel like your place is behind them. 

Glaring at both of their backs with, you clench your fists lightly. The town is close enough, you can see the buildings in the distance. Soon this person will be back home, and they’ll be just a minor detail in Vash’s adventure. While you’ll be by his side, helping him the entire way. That thought should help you feel better. It should help calm your nerves.

But then, their fingers reach out towards his hand, and you feel the fire build up again. 

Jealousy rears its ugly head.

The worst part? You aren’t angry that they’re flirting with him. You’re angry that you can’t be this bold. You have been traveling with him for months now. You’ve become one of his closest friends. He trusts you. He cares for you. He has proven that he will do anything to keep you safe. And yet, you can’t even find the courage to hold his hand. This stranger, who’s known him for a few hours at most, is doing something you have always wished you could do.

RIght before their fingers touch Vash’s metal ones you clear your throat. Vash turns to you with a smile. He arches an eyebrow, probably able to read your bad mood. “You okay back there?” he asks softly. The stranger retracks their hand and looks at you too. 

“Uh yeah. I was just wondering how you ended up out here anyway.” You mumble. Embarrassed, you try to find a conversation starter that makes you look less stupid. The person shrugs and looks ahead again. “Sometimes I come out here to find spare parts. You’d be surprised how much useful junk is just laying around in the sand.” They explain looking up at Vash.

Vash nods. “Yeah that makes sense. Sorry you got caught up with those guys. They didn’t hurt you did they?” he asks, looking the person over. “Maybe a few bruises, but I’m tough. You managed to save me just in time!” They exclaim. Vash rubs the back of his neck, blushing a bit. “We couldn’t just leave you out there!”

‘I could.’ you think for a second, before guilt floods your senses. Why are you acting like this?

You pause for a second, and watch the two continue to walk. They don’t even notice that you’ve stopped walking. The stranger says something that makes Vash laugh, his cheeks turning red. They step a bit closer to Vash, and he doesn’t seem to mind. This is too much for you.

You continue walking, a few steps behind them now. Your head hands low, and your heart drops. 

As the three of you walk towards the town, the suns start to drop. The air gets a bit cooler, and the world goes eerily quiet. The town is already empty, except for a few drunken wanderers who stumble through the streets. There’s probably a bar or tavern somewhere that’s filled with idiots drinking and singing.

The stranger leads the two of you up to their doorstep. They turn around and face Vash. “This is me.” they smile softly, their eyes only on your blonde companion. “Glad you got home safe.” Vash responds, a sense of relief in his eyes. “Thanks for making sure I’m okay. I owe you.” They whisper, and you know they aren’t talking to you. “It’s really no problem. It’s what I- It’s what we do.” It’s sweet how he tries to include you even when you’re clearly not wanted.

The person smiles, and leans in close to him for a second. They pull him down to their level and press their lips against his cheep. Your blood freezes, and you look away.

“Stop by the next time you’re in town. Okay?” They mumble before leaving you and Vash standing there. Vash is a bit awestruck, his face a bright red. You feel like you might punch the next person who walks by, or break down and cry, Whatever comes first. The situation has left you completely and utterly upset. Every fiber of your being wants to run off into the night time and scream.

Instead you just stand there with your jaw clenched tightly.

“They were really nice…” Vash points out turning to you with a smile. You find yourself scoffing. “Yeah to you.” you point out and begin to walk away. Vash follows you closely, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, and you feel a little bad. He looks like a little puppy who’s just been yelled at.

“I mean they clearly were happy that you specifically saved them. You know?” You mumble, a bit softer now. He stops and looks back, a bi of confusion woven into his features. “What?” he asks, looking at you again. “They liked you, Vash.”  You explain fully. His eyes widen and his cheeks turn pink again. “I-I don’t think so. I think they were just thankful I saved them-” He begins to rant, clearly flustered.

You sigh and stop to look at him. “They made it pretty obvious. I mean, they sure didn’t kiss my cheek. Did they?” He looks at you shocked, his brain jumping through hoops to try and explain the kiss. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks down at your sour expression. 

Suddenly a small smile stretches across his lips as he steps forward. He’s put your sour mood since you saved that person together now. He knows you’re jealous. “Well, I guess I’m flattered then. But…I’ve got my eyes on someone already.” he tells you a certain look you can’t place in his eye. 

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What? Who?” You ask, a bit too quickly. He laughs and shakes his head at you. “Someone pretty cool. They’re basically my best friends.” He explains. Your eyes widen as a new type of pain floods your senses. So he likes someone else, AND he has another best friend?

“Who is this person?” You ask, completely upset.

Vash just sighs, a small smile on his face. He walks closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. His hand gently combs through your hair

Your heart is suddenly leaping within your chest. 

“It’s you.”

Wolfwood

Your finger nails dig into the soft skin on your thighs softly as you watch the scene in front of you unfold. You watch silently as Wolfwood mutters something in this random girl’s ear, making her giggle. She responds by leaning in close, giving him a shy smile. He wraps his arm around her and whispers something else- something you couldn’t hear if you tried. They’re too close now, and you feel your heart plummet into your stomach.

This shouldn’t be much of a surprise at this point. This man does this a lot. He likes to walk off the moment the group finds a place to rest, and try his luck with whoever will give him the time of day. Most of  the time his advances are accepted because, as much as you hate to admit it, Wolfwood is handsome. He’s got a nice looking face, and a well toned body. Plus he can be sickeningly charming sometimes, with his unmatched wit and cute little nicknames. Anybody would fall for him. 

Despite how common this little scene is, it still makes your chest feel tight. You’re uncomfortable, but you can’t look away. The drink you had ordered to help cool you off is left untouched, growing warmer by the second. You just don’t feel like you can stomach anything right now. You feel sick, and upset. 

You’re…well, you’re jealous.

It’s something you’ve come to terms with awhile ago. You have feelings for your weird and mysterious traveling partner. You can only share so many tender moments with him dressing your wounds (or vice versa) before affections arise. You’ve shared enough moments with him where your heart beats uncomfortably fast to understand your feelings. It sucks.

The others have left you to stew in your feelings, knowing that once you get this way there’s no pulling you out. Meryl has tried so many times to convince you to let loose and ignore Wolfwood. She’s tried telling you to go dance with a stranger, or flirt with your own handsome man. “You’re attractive.” She would say. “Anybody here would be on their knees the moment you tried talking to them.” You can’t though. Not even if you wanted to.  There’s a deep insecurity that takes over your brain every time you watch the man you love flirt aimlessly with another. It makes you doubt yourself to a degree you have never experienced. Are you not good enough? Not pretty enough? Are you boring? What is it about you that isn’t enough? These thoughts seem to flood your mind, and no amount of alcohol could subside them

Your eyes drift down to his arm resting on the girl's side, his fingers lightly pressing against her. It makes you want to vomit. You wish so desperately to be the one he touches like that, and it sickens you. How stupid are you? Pining after a man who flirts with other people so easily. This man would never give you the time of day- despite how sweet he can seem sometimes.

You grab the drink from the table and hold it to your lips, drinking it all in one go. It burns your throat. It’s not enough. Without missing a beat, another cup lands in front of you. You give a thankful nod to the bartender, then down that drink too. Your thoughts are getting clouded and fuzzy as a light buzz starts to overcome you.

You look over at Wolfwood again. This time though, your eyes meet his. He smiles when the eye contact is made. A sly smirk that makes your blood boil. It’s like he knows your feelings, and he’s rubbing it in your face. You frown and turn away. 

What an asshole.

What should you do? You clearly aren’t having fun. The alcohol isn’t helping you loosen up, it’s actually making things feel worse. That girl is pressed up against Wolfwood, and you’re sure you might throw up or cry if you continue watching. Maybe you should leave. Go find a quiet place to relax? Yeah that’s a good idea. You leave your payment for the drinks on the counter and walk out of the building, into the chilly night air. For how hot it normally is on this harsh planet, the nights can get deadly cold. 

You lean against the railing and sigh softly. It’s just not your night.

The sound of a door opening and closing brings you out of your little moment of peace, and the familiar smell of cigarettes makes your nose wrinkle. Wolfwood walks up next to you, flicking his lighter. He rests his elbows against the railing and leans forward.

“Why’d you run off?” He asks after a couple minutes of silence. 

You look at him through the side of your eye for a moment, taking in his features. He looks so soft in the moonlight. Far different right now than how he always seems. A hint of warmth under the cold exterior he seems to always parade around. A side of him that he only lets you see.

“Needed some fresh air.” You finally answer, looking away. He’s really the last person you want to see right now. “Aren’t you missing somebody?” You ask, the alcohol makes you bolder than normal. There’s a sense of anger in your voice you can’t hide.

“You mean that girl?” He asks his hand going to his chin as if he’s thinking. “Just wasn’t feeling it. Why?” That sly smirk is back. “You feeling a little jealous?” His voice is quiet. He’s not looking at you, not entirely. He sometimes flickers his eye over to you, probably to see how you react.

Your eyes snap up to him, and a new anger surges through you. You can’t believe this man! He’s such a…a.. “You’re an asshole.” You say out loud, turning to look at him. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of your eyes.

“Is that a yes?” He goes to tease you, but when he turns to face you he stops dead in his tracks. His eyes meet with yours. His smile drops and a myriad of emotions go through his eyes. Confusion, surprise, then worry. He turns his body to you, and lets the bud of his cigarette fall to the ground. You remain tense, and quiet. You find yourself unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh.”

That’s all he says for a while. It seems he understands your feelings now. His hands clench and unclench, as he looks away. There’s a silence that takes over now. It’s awkward and tense. 

You grow tired of the moment, and let out a soft sigh. You knew he’d react like this. You knew there was no way he’d feel the same way. It’s still heartbreaking though. Your stomach is in ruins, and it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of you. Curse whatever created you for making you feel so utterly helpless in this situation.

You turn to leave, but his hand finds your wrist and he pulls you back. “Don’t- Just give me a second.” He sighs, and his hand slips away. You stay put, despite the fact you desperately want to escape. He pulls out another cigarette and holds the lighter up to his lips, lighting it. The glow shows off his conflicted eyes.

He takes a deep breath, and then lets it go.

“You’re too good for me.” He says finally. “I”m…not  the type of guy you should fall in love with.” His words are filled with an emotion you’ve never heard from him. This is a new Wolfwood. “I’ve done stuff…” he cuts himself off and looks in the opposite direction of you. “Sweetheart I…I…” he’s struggling to find the words. He takes a deep breath and then-

“Fuck it.”

He whips around. He grabs the cigarette from his lips with one hand, and the other clutches onto the back of your head. It happens too fast for you to understand completely , but he pulls you close and his lips catch yours. It’s a soft kiss. 

He pulls away and leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. His hand is still cradling the back of your head. He stares down at you, his dark eyes trying to convey to you what he’s struggling to say out loud. He loves you too.

[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.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Drabble Challenge 2024 - Day 13 // Blue

Vashwood (Vash x Wolfwood: Trigun)

“Truth or dare?” Vash slurred the challenge behind a drunken grin.

Wolfwood groaned into his near-empty glass. “You’re still not tired of this blondie?”

He shook his head and pouted, blue eyes wide. “C’mon, pick one!”

“Fine. Dare.”

Vash lit up. “I dare you to kiss someone in this room.”

Wolfwood snorted. “Real intense game here, huh?” He lit a cigarette and slowly scanned the empty bar in feigned interest.

“Not a lotta prospects here. But I think ya knew that.”

Vash's smile was all innocence as he leaned in. Maybe tomorrow they'd blame the drinks. Not tonight. Not yet.

[novasintheroom]

Touch me gently (Vash x Reader)

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 3k

♡ Warnings - mentions of having future children at the end

♡ Description: A drabble of various touches between you and Vash the Stampede as your relationship grows.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3 (separated into different chapters, as indicated in brackets)

Hands (056. Turn)

Neither of you are very touchy people.

Vash because he has to be careful.

You because you’ve never liked it.

It suits you both fine; neither of you signed on to the job to be touchy.

The boss wants a survey of a nearby gulch and valley. Hopes to find some good land for investment – water or oil or to build some new town with his name. You, the cartographer for the job. Vash, one of your hired bodyguards. The other two men look the part – grizzled, tough. Mercs. Vash stands out with his frame, the bold red coat. Still a merc, but he looks at you kindly, and you take to him as only a nervous scholar can. Some kind of comfort, if only in your head.

You shake the bodyguards’ hands. Vash’s is warm and a little clammy. You turn and do your best to not stare at the old-tech arm at his side. How curious, still.

/~*~\

Arms (053. Emporium)

The town square is full of life.

The other two mercs have gone off elsewhere to find booze or girls or bullets. Vash weaves on ahead. Always light on his feet, careful to dodge stray hands and still looking at everything with a smile. He’s careful to keep you in the corner of his eye. He loves this. He loves people. He’s in his element – one of them, anyway.

You, little scholar, are not. The crowds push in on the emporium – marketeers hocking their wares and greedy eyes follow your steps. You keep one hand on your purse. All walks of life brush past, children running around, toma pulling carts and calling out. Something lets out a boom, and there’s cheering down the street. Colored smoke rises from a stall with a dizzying aroma. It’s overwhelming, it’s more than you’re used to.

“Vash!” You call out. He doesn’t hear you.

Quiet halls with old paper and ink. The shuffle of pages, someone reading their research under their breath. Old tech flickering to life with a hum. Echoed rooms and soft music playing. That’s where you belong. That’s your safe space. Your element is so far away in this press.

A group of women pass between you and Vash. You lose sight of him. It’s jarring, how used to that red you’ve become, looking at it for some sort of comfort. He’s further ahead now, looking at a stall selling old tech baubles. You reach for him, that beacon of red, catching the crook of his arm and weaving your own through before you can think, before you can lose him again. He stills and looks down at you. Your jaw sets, your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You glance up, and ask with a look, Is this okay? Please let it be okay.

And he thinks for a moment. His heart warms. Squeezing your arm with his own, he pulls you closer to his side as you both step back into the throng. Yeah, it’s okay.

/~*~\

Feet (033. Trampoline)

Five months into knowing Vash, and you’re at his heels more than you ever were at your mother’s. Mostly to keep him out of trouble, but still.

The backs of his heels meet the sky more times than any grown man’s should. Summersaulting through the air to escape bullets, grabbing hands, the loss of freedom. You dog at him the entire time, your own feet pounding, pounding, pounding to keep up.

Vash meets the edge of a building, and he cries out, arms pinwheeling to keep him up. You lunge, snagging his ankles as he pitches forward. His weight pulls you, and you both fall. Luckily – as Vash’s luck often goes, metronoming from one extreme to the other – you land on a market stall’s tarped ceiling, bouncing once, twice, a makeshift trampoline. Now both of your feet are reaching for the sky.

Vash’s breath comes in and out like bellows. Yours isn’t better. In the distance, you hear shouts, screams, cries from the mob trying to hunt down the Humanoid Typhoon. You know you need to move. The stall owner is peering up at you strangely from beneath his tarp.

Still, Vash finds the time to look over at you and say, “You shouldn’t have done this.” ‘This’ meaning follow him, of course. A tired argument at this point, like he can’t get enough of saying it.

And you, you know you shouldn’t have. You have no business following an outlaw like him. Scholars stay hidden in their nooks and crannies and don’t do things like jump from building-to-building chasing after that waving red flag. You should focus on being a librarian, hand out books to word-starved children, build the world into a better place. Be who you should be.

You look back at him, a moment of stillness settling in your bones. “And let you have all the fun?” You shake your head. “No.”

A spark of something in his eyes. Clarity? Realization? He won’t tell you to this day, but his lips quirk up, and he drags you off the tarp and down to the ground. You both race off, leaving the bewildered shop keep staring after your dwindling figures.

/~*~\

Stomach (001. Trust)

It’s been a long day. The winds howl at the mouth of the cave, spitting dust and bits of sand like an angry cat. You and Vash set up camp deep within.

Dark with only a small electric lantern at your side, it’s hard to see the ink in your book. You don’t want to sit up to look at it, though. You squint. Vash finishes laying out his sleeping bag at your feet. He’s already set up some line and sound trap measures at the cave’s opening. No one needs to keep watch tonight.

 “We should get you a new book in the next town,” Vash says idly, “that one has pages falling out of it.”

 An old topic of chatter. “That’s because it’s well-loved,” you hum.

“You’re going to love it to death.”

You smile and raise the book to look at him. He’s set up near your legs, getting his sleeping bag ready and as comfortable as it can get on a stone floor. “Trust me,” you laugh. “I’d rather have it go like that than –“

And suddenly, he scoots up and puts his head on your stomach. A little pillow to use instead of his coat. You’re shocked, finger holding your place in the book as you look his way. He peaks back, a shy glint of blue in the lamplight. Is this okay?

Please let it be okay.

His head bounces when you laugh. You return to your book and knock his head gently with your other hand. Yeah, it’s okay.

/~*~\

Shoulders (082. Warmth)

His broad shoulders are distracting.

Burning white and too-hot already, the morning suns accentuate the curve of his neck, the slope of his back, tapering to a slim waist. Vash curls into a yoga pose in the shade of the outcropping, stretching his muscles and limbering up his joints. He’s shed his coat for the moment. Even he feels the heat today.

You feel a different heat. One you’re trying to not freak out over.

Since when has he been that built?

Your mind scrambles to get ahold of itself. That’s your friend, you think, chiding the rampant girlish thoughts of Holy Hannah, he’s hot.

Of course he’s also hot. Of course! It’s not enough that he’s kind to a fault and genuinely funny. And cute. His face is very cute. You purse your lips and force yourself to stare down at your notebook. You almost gag when you notice you’ve been doodling his figure this entire time, rather than writing notes of your latest escapade from town.

What are you, a schoolgirl?

Guiltily, you look up and watch him stretch his arms to the sky, from one side to the next. His eyes are dull, thoughts turned inward. You trace his shoulders again. They aren’t perfectly rounded – more square, and there are things underneath that slightly bulge and catch on his shirt when he moves. You eye those parts, wondering what it is that makes those shapes.

What’s under there?

Blue eyes suddenly flick to you, and you’re caught red-handed staring. But Vash, ever forgiving, ever one to give someone the benefit of the doubt, gives you a sincere smile. “Why don’t you join me? It could help!”

A blush’s warmth crawls up your back. Help? With what? “Oh,” you say aloud, realizing he means your own limberness needs some work. “Well, sure,” comes out before you think about it, and you put your notebook on your bag, padding over to him on bare feet.

He smiles, dimples in his cheeks. “Do you know how to do the cobra pose?” He’s testing the waters, unsure of how much you know. Vash lays flat on his stomach and bends his body upward. You follow him, feeling your abs and shoulders stretching. “Breathe in…and out…”

And that’s how it goes for a while; Vash teaching you new and old yoga poses, and you trying not to ogle your friend. Not what you expected today – but when does living with Vash ever turn out the way you expected?

/~*~\

Lips (097. Sinking)

The first time, it’s an accident.

You’re both pressed into a crevice in a canyon, fleeing a large worm set on making you its meal. The rock digs into your spine, and Vash is squished to your front, trying to be the shield. The worm screams and screams and breaks against the crack. Pebbles and sand rain down from above.

Vash leans down and shouts, “I think - !! – should – “

“What?!” You scream back.

Vash lowers his head just as you stretch to hear better. Your lips touch, his moving with his message and yours open in terror. Even then, you note how chapped his lips are. “We need to climb!” He starts climbing the sheer rock wall that shakes with every shove of the worm. All you can do is follow.

The second time is a coincidence.

It’s a dance at a bar. One of the many you and Vash have been to. Line dancing, dancing with partners, dancing alone – all on the docket. It happens when he’s leading you down the clapping line, cheek to cheek. He’s singing with the song, leading you back and forth and getting the crowd laughing with how he spins and twirls you, then how you dip him like a lady. You nearly drop him. He screams like a girl. You both lurch toward the other and your lips collide.

The crowd roars in approval, even if it only lasted half a second. There’re pats on the back, winks from the ladies, before you’re shoved back in line and the incident is moved to the back of everyone’s mind in favor of more drink and dancing. Vash’s cheeks flush every time your eyes meet.

“Sorry about that,” he says later, when you’re both stumbling to your rooms and the noise downstairs has died down. His hand is to his neck. Bashful. “You know, the whole…” he gestures with his hand, moving it from his mouth to yours in the air.

“No, I, uh – no, it’s fine,” you stammer, feeling your own heat of embarrassment. But you laugh to ease the tension, “Hey, best kiss I’ve ever had!” Your jaw snaps shut, teeth rattling, and before you can say anything else, you flee into your room with a squeaky “Goodnight!” following the door slam.

Vash flushes, staring at your door. His heart thuds in his ribcage, quick and bright. He lets out a chuckling sigh and goes to his own room. The motions of changing to pajamas, brushing his teeth, and cleaning his face is a soft blur. When he’s finally lying in bed, a hoarse giggle escapes, hands fisting the blankets and turning his head into the pillow to hide his smile from the moonlight.

The third time is a damn shame.

You’re nestled in the crook of his arm, both of your legs hanging off a ledge as you sit on the side of a porched building. Your stomachs are full for once, merriment of your hosts tucked away in their house as you take a moment to yourselves. Another damsel in distress saved. Another day lived.

A content sigh slides out of you, and you rest further on his shoulder. You’ve borrowed a blanket from the lady of the house, wrapped around your shoulders to fight off the chill of night. The last of the suns sets. Everything is blue and quiet.

“You getting cold?” He murmurs, wrapping you closer to his side, opening his coat wider to allow you in.

You smile at his voice. “Nah, you’re a furnace. I dunno how you stand the heat.”

You’re close again. Too close. Always too close, Vash thinks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. It brings your eyes to his, and there’s a sudden something between you.

He can’t ignore the look in your eyes. The love there. But he buries his own echo of it deep and wonders, why me? Why would you pick me?

Still, he leans forward.

Still, you do the same.

And just as your lips brush, just as he feels the warmth of your breath fan over him –

– someone opens the door of the house and calls out, “Vash, ______, get back in here before the little worms getcha!”

You two spring apart like you’re both on fire. Maybe you are. An “Oh!” falls from your host’s lips, and she hides inside in embarrassment.

A coiling, sinking feeling rests in Vash’s chest. He isn’t sure what to call it. It feels close to regret, maybe indignation? Embarrassment? It’s hard to look at you. His ears are burning. When he finally peaks over, he sees you do the same. You both look away quickly. “Uh, uhm,” he says, then clears his throat, “they’re probably starting the games. We should – “

“ – yeah, we should.” You nod, standing and twirling around to retreat. But, you stop, seeming to catch your cowardice and glance at him. Hesitantly, you offer your hand out.

Vash looks at your hand. How many times have you offered it to him now? Too many, he thinks. But you always do so willingly. He takes your hand and stands, following you back into the house, the feeling of your breath entwining with his still on his mind.

Damn shame indeed.

/~*~\

Nose (107. Sigh)

In the dim morning light, you feel his nose brush yours.

His nose is straight, somehow, despite all the times it’s been broken. You feel his enviously long lashes brush your cheeks. You try to keep still.

“Morning,” Vash whispers, and kisses your eyelids.

You still don’t move, feigning sleep.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and his lashes flutter on your own now. “You’ve stopped snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” you say, groggy, and smile when he lets out a laugh.

You hum, scrunching your body up into a ball and burrowing closer to him. He lets you – he always lets you – and his hands run up and down your back, along your sides, under your thighs. The careful caresses of a sleepy lover.

The suns rise once more, blinking into existence one at a time. The motel’s dusty windows let in a fraction of their light, old and cracked. You reach out and trace his chest with calloused fingertips. Your eyes slowly close.

Times like this are rare. A comfy mattress to sleep on, a safe room to be in (with locks that actually work), and nothing but each other to keep company. It’s perfect. Delicate.

“Hey,” he says, leaning his head down and nudging his nose with yours. “I had a dream. We had this big farmhouse with lots of land, and you had your own library in it, and I was an actual Plant engineer, but just for the city near us.”

“Oh yeah?” You yawn, shaking your head to clear it of fuzz. “No more travelling for you?”

“Guess not.” He continues rubbing your back, eyes never leaving you. “I think my mind made up that all the Plants were doing well enough to not need me as much. We even had two dogs and a cat.”

Your lips quirk up. “Can’t have a farmhouse without those.” You yawn again into his chest.

He hums. “Nope. It was a big house. I got lost in it a few times, but then the kids helped me find my way out – “

“The kids?”

He sputters to a stop, and you’re suddenly much more awake, looking up at him through lashes. His eyes rove yours, wondering if he should keep going. “The kids,” he says quietly, “yeah. I…think there were three.”

Your lips thin for a moment, teeth worrying your bottom lip. “Whose…I mean were they…?”

“Ours?” His voice is just as quiet. His hand takes yours from his chest, holding it over his heart, and says, “Yeah, they were.” He licks his lips and a blush rises to his cheeks. “Two of them had your eyes.”

The information settles on you like a warm blanket, and you give him a sleepy smile. “That’s too bad. I’d prefer they have yours.”

He stares at you a moment. Then, Vash lets out a sigh of relief and pulls you closer. Kissing your temple, he says, “Nah, they need your pretty eyes.”

You’ll agree to disagree.