whatever-i-dontknow

[whatever-i-dontknow]

Dazzling

Rating: G

Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader Summary: Something shiny catches Vash's eye while browsing the market. Content: fluff Word Count: .8k

Truly, it's incredible what humans have managed to create out of so little. Take the sandsteamer Vash stands on now—built piece by piece from the remnants of ships that once fell from the sky. Vibrant stalls spill out across the walkway as he browses the market, each bursting with its own personality: the warm sizzle of street food frying in wide iron pans, shelves of tools and weaponry, shimmering under the sunlight, meant to aid bounty hunters in their next pursuit (he gives that one a wide berth), tapestries and paintings and intricate sculptures, creations born of steady hands and aching hearts.

But delicate metal rings—especially ones crowned with a gleaming red gemstone, shining like a drop of sunlight caught in ore—are rare.

Vash doesn’t usually stop for jewelry. Too flashy. Too impractical. Too… hopeful, and far too expensive for someone constantly on the move, constantly scraping by. It's the sort of thing someone with roots might buy. Someone with a future.

But this one.

This one stops him cold, and he finds himself reaching for it. Not because he needs it.

But because, for one quiet, heart-stopping moment, he imagines how beautiful it would look on your finger.

“See something you like?” the vendor calls, eyes twinkling knowingly.

Vash startles a bit, fingers already curled around the little ring. He looks up like he’s been caught red-handed. “Uh. Maybe.”

The vendor leans forward on their elbows, looking at him with a practiced eye. “That one’s not cheap, y’know. Real gemstone. Came from one of the old ship wrecks. Not many of those left.”

Vash turns the ring slowly in his fingers, watching the way it catches the light. It gleams like it's always belonged to someone special.

He swallows. “How much?”

The vendor names a price, and Vash winces. That’s more than a few meals. Maybe even a few weeks’ worth. Spending it all on something so small, so impractical to a man on the run, borders on reckless.

But he doesn't put the ring down.

“Need a box?” the vendor asks, already reaching below the stall.

“…Yes, please.”

“Box is extra.”

Of course it is.

He exhales slowly, taking out his wallet and counting out the last of his double dollars before he slides the bills across the counter. “Fine.”

The vendor chuckles, already easing the ring into a small, felt-lined box—careful, deliberate, as if they know just what kind of thing this is. “Romantic type, huh?” they say lightly, snapping the box shut. “Hope they’re worth it.”

“They are,” Vash says, almost too quietly.

The vendor hands over the box with a nod and a smile that, for all its mischief, carries a kind of understanding. “Pleasure doing business.”

Vash takes it like it’s something fragile. Sacred.

You’ve seen him at his best and at his worst—and somehow, impossibly, you’re still here. Still choosing to be by his side. And he wants to keep you there. He wants that more than anything.

It’s selfish. He knows that.

But even as he tucks the little box carefully into his pocket, feeling the familiar emptiness of his wallet in the other hand, he knows he’d have paid twice as much if he had to.

“Vash!”

Your voice rings out above the noise of the crowd, light and unmistakable. His head snaps up, a little too quickly. You’re weaving your way through the stalls, smiling as you spot him.

He panics, jamming the box deeper into his coat pocket, and he forgets about the wallet still hanging limply in his hand.

“There you are!” You reach his side, slightly breathless. “I’ve been looking all over. Where’d you run off to?”

“Ah, well, y’know…” He tries to sound casual, trying to hide the guilt on his face. “Browsing.”

“Browsing, huh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Find anything good?”

He shrugs, eyes darting to the side. “A couple things. Nothing crazy.”

You glance down. “Wait—how much did you spend?”

“…A lot.”

You stare at him. Then at the sagging wallet.

“Vash, holy shit, what did you buy?!”

Crap. Think. Think.

“Uhh… food.” He winces. “Snacks.”

You blink. “Did you save any for me at least?”

“N-No.”

“You glutton! I swear, your stomach’s bottomless sometimes!” you scold, but there's laughter behind your words, amusement softening the edge.

He chuckles weakly, scratching the back of his neck. “Guess I got carried away…”

You shake your head, bumping your shoulder lightly against his. “You’re lucky I like you.”

He smiles, helpless in the face of you.

No—he won’t ask you to stay. Not yet. He won’t ask you to tie your future to his uncertain one. That would be cruel. You deserve a life of ease, of peace, not one spent dodging bullets and bounties.

But if the day ever comes when he lets himself fully surrender to the quiet, burning want that fills him every time he looks at you, to the dream of watching the years shape your smile and your laugh lines, to the longing to watch how time paints its story into the lines of your face—he’ll be ready, with a pretty ring, nestled safely in his right-hand pocket.

Then again, maybe the moment he bought it... he already gave in.

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[whatever-i-dontknow]

Nothing pisses me off than those fics tagged with character/reader then the so-called 'reader' has a fricking full name and physical description tf.

[whatever-i-dontknow]

[whatever-i-dontknow]

I love his boots..

[whatever-i-dontknow]

[whatever-i-dontknow]

Wrapped Up in You

Rating: G

Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader Summary: Vash stumbles back into your shared inn after a night of drinking, looking for your attention. Content: fluff, a hint of angst, yearning, alcohol, non-consensual cuddling, vomiting Word Count: 2.1k A/N: I haven't written in forever and I kinda hate this but if I don't post it now, I think I never will sooo

The hallway is dimly lit, a flickering overhead light casting shadows along the peeling walls, and Vash’s boots clack loudly against the old floorboards as he unceremoniously stumbles down the corridor, his unsteady steps betraying the extent of how much he’s had to drink this evening. The sound echoes in the otherwise quiet building–an old, somewhat shabby inn at the edge of town. It’s a temporary haven, a place to rest before he’s inevitably on the move again, and though the room may not be much, it’s become a small comfort.

He reaches the door to the room he shares with you, fumbling in his pockets for the key. It slips from his grasp a couple of times before he manages to unlock the door, grumbling something under his breath as he pushes it open, stepping in and swinging it shut with a soft thud behind him.

“I’m back!” Vash calls out, his voice a little louder than he means it to be. He kicks off his boots and shoves them aside, his eyes scanning the room. The warm light from the lamp casts a soft glow, but something is missing. He frowns, his brows furrowing. 

This isn’t right. Usually, you’re here, waiting for him, with that warm embrace and the gentle scolding that always follows his drunken returns. He may always be on the run, but having a person to come back to every night makes even the dingiest of hotels feel like home. 

But tonight? The room is eerily quiet. Too quiet. No greeting. No teasing. No reassuring voice telling him everything is okay.

A small wave of disappointment washes over him. He’d been looking forward to it—you—even the usual sighs of exasperation and tired mutters about how late he’s come back, how terribly drunk he is. But now, the silence makes the space feel even more hollow.

Quite frankly, he’s missing the hug he was expecting to get, and maybe even the scolding a little bit.

“Mayfly? You here?” Vash calls out again, and his voice carries a note of concern that he can’t quite mask.

Did you not come back? Are you still out? Maybe you went out for something, or just stepped out for a walk. But the longer he stands there, the more the quiet of the room settles in, uneasiness gnawing at him.

His mind races, and finally, he drags himself across the room, and luckily his eyes fall on you, finding you curled up in one of the two beds. Relief floods through him, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders, hazy sapphire eyes tracing over your peaceful form. He's happy to see you sleeping. You shouldn't be staying up waiting for him, especially considering how late it is, but the sentiment is quickly followed by a slight twinge of frustration, as selfish as he knows that is. If you were awake, he’d be getting the attention he craves. Hugs, scolding, anything, really. But instead, you’re asleep like an angel, depriving him of all the attention he’s been longing for.

How rude. He had a whole list of annoying drunk antics he was going to put you through, and now he has to settle for watching you sleep? What a cruel, cruel fate for the Humanoid Typhoon.

His eyes linger on your face, soft in the light, every detail etched into his memory, as if he could never forget the way your features softened in sleep. His gaze mindlessly falls on how your lips part slightly, like a subtle invitation, and he swallows hard.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to be something he could yearn for so deeply. You’re his friend, his closest companion, and yet, something about seeing you like this makes him want to reach out and hold you close and tell you things he’s never had the courage to say out loud, even when you’re wide awake and in front of him. But, of course, he doesn't. He just stands there, quietly aching, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, afraid that if he ever did cross that line, your inevitable goodbye would hurt far worse than any other pain that could etch his flesh. 

He watches you, hesitating, unsure whether to poke your cheeks and wake you up just so that he can see that adorable, annoyed pout you do, or simply enjoy the sight a little longer, but the thought of being close to you, feeling the comfort of your presence, overpowers any rationality he usually has. He was expecting at least a hug when he got back, after all, and he's too far gone to think clearly.

With a quiet sigh, he sheds his coat, tossing it haphazardly onto the second, empty bed. He turns off the flickering lamp and lifts the blanket to slip beside you, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. He settles in behind you, curling around you with surprising tenderness and care for someone so drunk. As much as he loves the sound of your voice, your scolding might ruin his plans of snuggling up against you. His warm arm wraps around your middle, pulling you gently against him, and immediately the soft rise and fall of your chest calms him in a way all the alcohol from the night never could. The rhythmic softness of your breathing helps to clear his mind, like the haze from the booze is lifting, and he’s left with something more real, a warmth far greater than the feeling of whiskey burning his throat.

This is okay… isn't it? You two have cuddled a few times before. Albeit, it was more for preserving body heat out in the cold than it was for the mere closeness, but this room is awfully cold.

And he's plenty warm.

He can keep you warm.

His cheeks feel embarrassingly warm, that's for certain, and it's not just from all the booze. He tries to reassure himself, telling himself it’s fine. He’s just keeping you warm, but even his drunk brain knows that's not the whole truth.

He wants to be close to you, to hold onto this feeling, just a little longer. And so, with your steady breathing in his ear and the soft hum of the night surrounding him, Vash allows himself to relax. He's careful not to disturb you, but somehow, even in your sleep, you manage to snuggle closer, turning toward him, as if you're instinctively seeking him, or maybe you're just trying to warm up. Either way, he can’t help but smile at the way you nuzzle deeper into his chest, your face soft with sleep as his fingertips trace a delicate, absentminded pattern on your arm, each movement slower than the last, as if savoring the fleeting moment. He wonders if you realize just how much these small moments mean to him, how much he craves them. How, despite the teasing and the lighthearted distance he often keeps between you, this quiet closeness, this simple peace, feels like everything.

But the ache in his chest lingers, because even in this serenity, he knows things are more complicated than he lets on. How could they not be, when all he wants is to stay like this, knowing that tomorrow he’ll likely retreat into his usual joking demeanor, hiding everything that feels too fragile to say out loud?

Though before he can delve too much in the thought, you stir, and your voice, still heavy with sleep, breaks through the silence.

“Vash?”

He hums, his breath warm against your hair as he tightens his hold on you, like he’s anticipating you trying to pull away. “Mayfly~” he says in a cheerful sing-song tone that does little to hide the slurring of his words.

“Did you… pass out on me?” You mumble, half-dazed as you blink and try to focus your sleepy eyes, and seeing the tired look on your face brings a warmth to his cheeks that definitely isn’t from the alcohol.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh, take over your bed. Must've accidentally gotten into the wrong one,” he lies blatantly.

“Accidentally, huh?” You groan in response, but don’t pull away. “And what’s that smell? Did you bring the bar home with you?”

Oop. He might be in for a scolding after all. 

“I may have had a few too many.” He replies, leaning his cheek on the top of your head. 

“You say that every time,” you mumble. “You're not gonna throw up on me this time, right?”

Vash cringes. “Are you going to hold that against me forever, mayfly?”

“Yes.”

Fair, actually. He can’t really blame you for that one.

"You can scold me all you want later, but I just need a little more of this before you tell me off, okay?” He says. “Besides, you always end up forgiving me anyway.”

You pull the covers up a little higher, trying to ward off the chill of the evening. He wishes you’d snuggle up closer to him instead.

“I just worry about you, Vash,” you say, your tone softer than it was before. “Don't like it when you come back so late, or when you drink so much.”

Oh. 

He doesn't want you to worry about him. He doesn't deserve that much, but knowing that you do… Well, that does something to his heart that he wasn't anticipating.

He's way too drunk for this right now.

“...Sorry,” he whispers, his arm carefully tugging you closer, holding you delicately like it's an apology, a way to somehow make up for the distress he causes you even when he's not around.

“Well,” you mutter again, but this time, there’s something more affectionate behind it. “You're lucky you're cute.”

"Mmh?" His voice is more awake now, and he's incredibly thankful that you can't see the way his cheeks flush in the dark. "Cute, huh? Tell me more, mayfly. What about handsome? Dashing, even?"

You crack one eye open, sending him a sleepy glare. "Enough, or I might really throw you out of this bed."

Vash groans in mock frustration. "Fine, fine, geez. You're no fun sometimes.”

“It's 2am, Vash. I don't usually have fun at 2am,” You quip back at him, and if the exasperation in your tone is anything to go by, he's starting to get under your skin, something he was looking forward to when he got back this evening.

“Closer to 3am, actually,” Vash corrects you very matter-of-factly, and he knows you don't appreciate his smartass tone by how you're suddenly pinching and pulling his cheek.

“Yowch!! Ow ow okay okay sorry!” He exclaims, pulling the soft skin of his cheek out from between your fingers. “How about breakfast? I’ll buy us both something in the morning to make up for all the trouble."

“It’s your turn to buy breakfast anyway, dummy,” you murmur, your eyelids fluttering closed again. "How about next time, maybe less bar and more... water."

"Deal. I’ll be on my best behaviour from now on," he says back, his voice softer now as he tucks his head against yours, keeping you nice and close. 

You snort. “We'll see about that.”

Your presence wraps around him like a soft blanket, and for once, Vash lets himself sink into it completely. He can feel you against him, the steady comfort of being so close, and it feels like enough, knowing he does have someone waiting for him, wanting him to come back safe every night. The weight of the world, the uncertainty of the future, all seem distant now, and he can pretend things are simpler. Just for tonight, he can forget everything else and let the simplicity of this moment be his only reality.

Until a few minutes of silence pass between you two, and he suddenly feels his stomach churn… and the room spins a bit more than it should.

“M-May…fly,” Vash groans, his tone hoarse and pained.

Your head shoots up at that, no doubt recognizing that tone in his voice, taking in the funny look on your companion's face. He sees your eyes go wide, feels you suddenly try to pull away, but his arm stays firmly wrapped around you despite knowing he should really be letting go, using that superhuman strength to keep you there when he really shouldn't be.

Everyone likes having someone around when they're not feeling too good, after all.

“Vash. Vash, let go! No, please! Not on me! Not again please!!!”

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[whatever-i-dontknow]

These damn nadders stressin me out so much I'm startin to feel like this image

[whatever-i-dontknow]

I'm part of the Nib & Ink Fest 2025 with my comics Snowblind and Berserkir! And I gave an interview about being a comic artist! Go give it a read here: Cartoonist Cooperative Journal

(NIF flyer art by Mariah-Rose Marie & letters by Becca Carey)

[whatever-i-dontknow]

⋆˙⟡ BOYFRIEND!DANTE ── HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of anime, Dante being needy, fluff, cute and light content.

── word count: 653!

⭑.ᐟ Dante is always, ALWAYS, in contact with you and it doesn't matter where or when. — This is not an exaggeration, or a complaint, never. — Whether through physical touches or messages, SMS, — that man only uses his damn cell phone because of you and even though it's risky — he never lets you keep in contact.

“thinking about you right now ;)” “Dante, you only left about 5 minutes ago…?” “painful, isn’t it? do you believe i have an amazing joke ready? i need to tell you when i get back.”

⭑.ᐟ The demon hunter loves to snuggle up to you, to cling to you; being unable, and in his words, impossible, not to be close to you. — Well, that's his biggest weakness. — Dante always kept his hands around you, usually on your waist and caressing the region. — Like holding your hand, caressing your face and massaging your thigh.

⭑.ᐟ He loves receiving your attention, especially when he is between your boobs and receiving caresses, which make him fall asleep instantly. — you know this very well — However, there was one night, after a long and unbearable killing against beings from the underworld, Dante ended up falling asleep during one of the night conversations, which was your routine, and ended up drooling on your shirt.

⤷ The scene was…naive, also pitiful; your boyfriend was tired, he needed rest more than anything else. — And you, wanting to make him comfortable and pleasant, tried to get out of the position, which was to be underneath him, but an extremely sleepy and heavy Dante prevented your action and mumbled inaudible words — asking you to stay there, with him — and even without understanding, you obeyed.

⭑.ᐟ DDR Nights — DanceDance Revolucion? This has become a routine worthy of you and Dante. — Every night, no matter what time it is, and even knowing that you have things to do the next day, this gentle game becomes a competition; Dante, without even caring who is in front, doesn't miss the chance to have fun with his girl.

"Come on, ma'am! Make me impressed, go, go!" + “It was with that swagger that you won me over, right, you smart little girl?” + “I can’t believe you beat me at my own game?”

“Shut your pretty mouth, big boy.”

⭑.ᐟ You are the only person, the only thing that can breathe, that can touch or question his necklace. — There is no discussion about that. — Dante trusts you, until his last breath, even though he has reason to distrust everyone and everything, he would never leave or abandon his loyalty and trust in you. — Out of fear, and respect and common sense, you don't dare to touch it on some occasions and Dante realizes this, he finds it funny, cute, pure; feeling loved and so cared for by you.

⤷ “There’s not a day, not a single day, that the memory of the day she gave me that necklace doesn’t cross my mind.” — Dante mentioned his mother, able to feel a small and unbearable burning in his eyes; he sighed, arranged you in his lap, directing a compassionate look in your direction as your fingers pass through the cord, without touching the amulet. — “And every day, i’m sure she would adore you.”

⭑.ᐟ Dante knows how to be a knight with you, and he really does. — Last piece of pizza in the box? He makes a point of leaving it for you, and that's a high-class knightly role in his eyes. — Even living such a complicated life, working with something so violent and filthy, he can't help but indulge his girl in a few whims.

⤷ Little writings on small pieces of old newspaper, which he left in his pants or jacket pocket, telling some joke or unfunny pick-up line and decorations are typical of Dante. — Teaching you to play pool and then beating him and your prize are moments of grabbing? Oh, Dante is a lucky boy.

[whatever-i-dontknow]

Hey guys, I'm not usually the type to start a gofundme, but my family just lost £20,000 in court, over something they didn't even do. All the details are in the page, and Hey, I get that we're all dirt poor right now, but if you could share this, that would be great too. I need to help my family get their savings back.

[whatever-i-dontknow]

that's it no more slow burn

[whatever-i-dontknow]

I HAD TO GUYS IM SORRY IM SO HYPED

[whatever-i-dontknow]

Maybe someday soon,

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: After your team’s plans literally go up in smoke, a tense car ride leads into a much tenser situation with a certain natural disaster. (Vash and Reader are both hopeless romantics)

A/N: First actual post on this acc and I’m here to help clear out my Trigun brain rot, might make a part 2 if anyones interested. Also, I wrote this with the OG/ Badlands designs in mind but you could probably imagine other Vash to this as well! (this is also unedited since i hate rereading my own work-)

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You’d think it was deadly for a human to run this hot. Maybe it was and maybe you’d drop dead from embarrassment if this would continue, who was to say?

The day had started any other way it had for the last few months. A lone desert horizon staring back at you as your little caravan traveled to a nearby city to take refuge before nightfall hit. Boredom hung over your head like a cloud of dust, so you began to look sound in the small enclosure. The van was high-strung with bated breath, the tension a cough away from popping poor Meryl’s temper. If you hadn’t been so terrified of the feisty woman, you could’ve snorted at the red vein barely visible on her cheek from your backseat angle. Desperate to find something else to focus on, your eyes drifted to Milly in the passenger seat blissfully unaware of the situation. You flashed her a smile when your eyes met in the mirror and she happily returned it before spacing off again on who knows what.

Now here came the hard part.

It was a wonder the silence had managed to dwell so long with the noisy blond and priest sitting beside you. Perhaps the two brain cells the three of you seldom shared–one of which you held on to the longest and the other bounced between the males– sparked together and formed a quiet game of who could outlast Meryl’s rage the longest. Nevertheless, your confidence held strong as you looked to cast a glance at Wolfwood in the opposite window seat. He was turned fully to the window, wispy stripes of dark hair obscuring most of his profile and hand holding up his chin. Thinking you were in the clear of not breaking into laughter looking at him you flicked your gaze onto the window.

Oh no. The two of you had formulated the same idea and were now staring at one another’s blank-faced reflection in the window. The dark tan of his skin pinched together and furrowed at the crease of his nose, clearly taken aback by the reflection as he struggled to re-straighten his face. You quickly turned your head as conspicuously as you could and placed your forehead on the warmed glass. A hearty smile had slipped its way across your face, what a goofball. It was embarrassing how attached you had gotten to everyone in such an objectively short time. Even with the scoldings included, you never once lost any amount of love for any of your friends. There was nothing you would trade for moments like this, despite having grated on Meryl’s nerves the entire morning before now. But to be fair, it was a bit of her fault as well for carrying a humanoid typhoon across No Man’s Land for this long. Insurance company be damned if you were in her place, the amount of times you’ve almost gotten stitched up would’ve put you into early retirement long ago.

….Speaking of the Humanoid typhoon,

Snapping out of your pondering state, you came to realize the silence had strangely returned. You glanced to your left, trying to spare a peek at your agitated driver to see if she was still ill-tempered. You got you answer with haste as her eyes raced to meet your curious ones peering at her through the side mirrors of the vehicle. It was like the devil himself snagged your heart out of your chest as your eyes spasmed trying to grasp at anything else within your range of view. How was someone barely up to your shoulder so scary?? The peeling leather of her seat is what dragged you back away from her wrathful glare, and even then you could’ve sworn the heat from it dug a hole through the sweat of your brow. Maybe it would be best if you didn’t follow your mind��s wonderings and left Vash in the back of your head. Yet as the harsh red of his mangy jacket appeared for a split second in your peripherals, you knew you were a goner. To make things worse, a subtle scraping made itself known alongside the white noise of the van. It was dull and flaky, not unlike the scratching of… a paint brush? Your noise scrunched up in thought as you looked for the source. Milly met you halfway when turning to her, casting a copy of your pensiveness right back as she peek over her shoulder. A honeyed eyebrow rose in a silent question before her gaze shifted up.

A loud clap sent a jolt through the backseat riders up and into a state of alert as Milly slapped a single hand over her mouth. Your own eyebrows kissed the beginnings of your hairline as you reared back in your seat a bit, slowly ascending your head to what she was turning an alarming shade of red at. On the way, you made eye contact again with the equally wired priest across from you. Only briefly sparring a single glance, you both looked up.

You don’t know whether it was due to the unbearable lack of entertainment or if it was just that funny, but only the lord knows how hard of a cacophonous laugh erupted from you either way. Poor, poor tall and lanky Vash sat stiff as a board between Wolfwood and you, caked in soot from the disaster the group had just come from. Wherever the dark graininess hadn’t settled, a brilliant red matching his iconic coat painted his sun-kissed skin. And his hair, the bristled blond strands smushed and sprang outwards, creating the illusion of an angry red pineapple as he slightly swished back and forth with the swaying of the van. Vash looked to be struggling more than you and the priest had–seeing as he had to stare at his reflection through the rearview mirror the entire time since you all had. However, all hell had broke loose upon your cracking up as Vash and Wolfwood burst into cackles and hollering. Tears poured out of all your eyes, soaking dried and dusty faces previously chapped from the heat. And if you had any sense left, you would’ve looked to see the expression on Meryl’s face beside the giggling Milly. Unfortunately, you didn’t get the chance and had to live on without knowing the exasperated smile inching across her face.

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"Why am I the only one in trouble?!" You found yourself wailing into the dark night as you trudged to the bar. "They laughed too Meryl!"

The woman's stride never paused as she walked in front of you with her back straight. Meryl scoffed back at you and dished out a single glance, "But who laughed first?"

"But-"

"Besides! We need someone sober enough to find the motel, and that will surely not be me after the little stunt you guys pulled in the last town!” She huffed a piece of her dark fringe away from her eyes and took a sharp turn, “I pray they weren’t set up with the company’s insurance plan, if so, this might be the last drinking session we can afford.”

You’d have to admit even though she was joking, you felt a little bad for Meryl. Maybe thats why for the rest of the way to the bar, you quietly sulked in front of the batch of traitors behind you. The two bubbly blondes and sleek priest were quiet as mice up until you all entered the bar– trying to camouflage into the darkness to avoid getting a ban on their drinking as well. Yet as soon as you all set foot in the bar, all four of your comrades hauled themselves to the bar and sparked the whole atmosphere of the room.

It was endearing in a way, even though you were a bit bitter you couldn’t be drunkenly stumbling over your words as you chatted the night away. But also if you had, you wouldn’t have been able to be fully enamored by a blond “maniac” who had managed to convince an equally drunk patron to dance with him on a table. You brought the back of your hand to your mouth and stifled the laugh building up in fear of being dragged up while sober enough to remember it happening.

However, all was in vain as you met a pair of teal downturned eyes looking straight at you. Vash was clearly plastered, but somehow managed to start working his way to you without stumbling out of his boots. His laughter made your brain work overtime to keep up with your heart running like a bat out of hell. You were certain that someone could hear the noise as you frantically darted your eyes around to divert your attention away from Vash. The drunken man was not even a foot away from you when he tripped on his way to you. And you could swear for a split second, a brown pair of dress shoes was the object in question. The blonde, dazed and confused, limply fell forward and clung to you tightly. You could’ve died at that single moment.

He was warm, and not in the way the sands were. It was such a comforting warmth that your mind blanked when he had wrapped his arms around you. The noise from the bar faded into a dull hum as Vash fully engulfed your senses. His right arm slightly twitches around you, as if trying to pull you impossibly closer. A rhythmic thumping pulsed inside your chest, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to feel it through layers of clothes and burning skin. Your breath hitched as he grazed the side of your neck, slowly moving up and stopping just below your ear. You were sick with anticipation and he slowly opened his eyes to look at you before speaking,

.

.

“I really have to use the bathroom.”

Dear lord.

So here you were, holding up a blazing hot Vash who was thoughly struggling to find the ground beneath him. You tried not to look at him too long–you fear if you did you’d let him fall in the chilled sand after the stunt he’d pulled earlier. Your face was still scorched with the heat of embarrassment that should’ve been drunkenness. Nevertheless, you trudged forward and led the train of dazed insurance company workers, a buzzed priest, and a totaled outlaw. It seemed everyone lucked out since the walk wasn’t long at all, the rickety building coming up just short of 3 minutes away.

You reered your head around to shout the news, earning disgruntled groans and a half-hearted cheer from Milly. Old and tired wooden boards wailed underneath yours and Vash’s feet as you both stepped up at the same time. He losely threw his right arm out to reach the door handle, and even though he missed it by a wide mark, you appreciated the effort. Soft lights brighten and illuminate the small motel lobby as you all piled in. The front desk attendee was a pleasantly aged woman, gray wisps spiraling from under her hat and kissing the faint wrinkles of her forehead. You gave an exasperated smile as you lugged Vash forward, “Reservation for Stryfe?”

“Stryfe you say? Okay my dear, let me just look and see-” She leaned forward a bit towards the registry booklet, “Ah! There it is, let me get your keys sweetheart.”

You nodded as you felt a slight tug on your sleeve, glancing upwards you come face to face with a teary-eyed pout. A single brow of yours hitches up, signaling him to continue with whatever he was trying to get at.

“...I need to use the bathroom again.”

“You just went!”

“Please!!” The lanky man twisted you around the best he could, “You don’t want my bladder to explode do you??”

You bit your tongue to not mutter a yes and send the blonde into a crying fit, instead slamming your hand over the first key you saw presented. With a labored huff you turned to Milly, currently the least drunk of the trio bracing themselves against the wall, “Mills, you think you can manage getting you three to your rooms while I’m gone?”

To which she reply with a lazy salute and a “You can count on me!” before grabbing two other keys and darting off with Meryl and Wolfwood draped on her shoulders. What a sweet girl.

And now to deal with your not-so-sweet outlaw that you hurriedly pull to the room where he would be staying. You’d nearly dropped and lost the key in hand when he dramatically clutched his stomach and shouted in the long hallway. Scared out of your skin, you turn to him in fear he actually wasn’t playing with you earlier about the bladder situation; but were met with a sly smile at the shocked expression displayed on your face. You huffed and tugged at him again, trying not to indulge in his antics. Undeterred, he let out another shrill yell as you dragged him closer to his room,

“HELP, HELP! It’s Vash the Sta-mmph!”

You slap a swift hand over his mouth and shove him into the newly opened door, locking it behind you. Red-faced, you shoot a dead glare at the spindly man currently splayed out in front of you. Vash’s lips twist into a playful wobbly smile as he stares up at you, only to shapely point downwards when you point to the bathroom door. His eyebrows crease his sunburnt skin in a sad attempt to imitate a kicked puppy–yet he relents and gives up when a vein makes itself present on your temple. Well after he’s settled into the bathroom, you lean against the wall to catch your breath for a brief second. How in the world was he this hopeless? You’d have to give it to him despite how agitated you were at his earlier stunt, his hopelessness was endearing in a way. A tired hand swiped the sweat from your brow as you flush faintly, god he would be the death of you. A muffled thunk from the other side of the bathroom door rips you from pondering about the culprit at hand. Hopefully Vash would be competent enough to figure out how to survive on his own until daybreak. You push off the wall and leave the room, starting off back down the hall to claim your room key so you can finally retire to bed.

The walk was ten times short without dragging drunken extra luggage on your shoulder throughout the halls. You stop at the front desk, which was now missing the woman attending it just a few minutes ago. It was eerily silent in the lobby, with no one being up and lounging about the area. At a sudden creak, your head swivels to a door not far away from the desk. Seemingly oblivious to your figure standing awkwardly behind the table, the young man glides to a drawer obscured front desk. He pulls out a booklet resembling the registration sheet the kind woman had checked form. The new attendee acknowledges your existence with a sparring glance,

“Name?”

The suddeness of his statement was enough to spike your nerves, “Ah! Oh, registration for Stryfe please! I’m here to pick up the fourth key?”

His eyes narrowed for a split second, “Four? There’s only three in the registry for Stryfe.”

“What?? Surely there must’ve been a mistake, there’s five of us with two sharing a room!” You mentally made a note to hide Meryl’s handover medicine if what the attendee said was true, that you would have to bunk with a clingy blond for the night. The man behind the counter just sighed tiredly at you,

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any more openings left for the night. You’d have to sleep in one of the other reserved rooms.”

Your ears burned with embarrassment, “Can you at least tell me the other two room numbers?” Maybe you could bribe Wolfwood with the promise of another pack of cigarettes in exchange for a room to yourself.

Unfortunately, the attendee had made it his momentary pleasure to crush your pipe-dreaming. He slowly blinked at you, “Are you Meryl Stryfe?”

“...No?”

“Then I am sorry, we cannot disclose room patrons without consent of the booker themselves. Have a nice night.”

“You’ve gotta be joking me.”

“Not paid enough to do so, unfortunately.” He looked a good decade older as he muttered the statement to you through gritted teeth, “Have a nice night.”

And with that, your one-sided argument came to a close as you had no choice but to secede. In all honesty, you could pass out in the hallway and call it a day with all the walking going on. You wish you knew why this felt so nerve racking, he was your friend and the same went for you—or at least you hoped. Yet, the blonde had such a baffling way of turning your whole world upside down without even trying. It intimidated you just as much as it made your heart flutter. He was so breathtaking, enough to piss you off in a jealous haze if you weren’t his friend. You were set in stone on this revelation, and nothing would be able to shake that away from your perception of Vash. The door knob contrasts your warm palms as you open the frigid door.

Upon opening it, the world seems to instantaneously freeze when you come face to face with a half-dressed outlaw. You didn’t even have time to truly process his reaction, and dignity be damned at this point. Your eyes nailed themselves to Vash’s torso like they were meant to be there; and if you were actually cognitive, you would’ve chastised yourself for staring so shamelessly. But in all honesty, could you be blamed for looking?

Yes, you were hurt by the mangled skin of his body with pink skin coating the sunny canvas of his chest. And yes, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind you would shed tears for every one of them you hadn’t saw happen admits your journey together. But dear lord above, was he ethereal. The lankiness you normally associated with him was heavily disproven from what you could clearly see now. He was sturdily built—even with his arms frozen in a pose reaching for his backpack— and astonishingly lean. There were so many words you wished to say, to voice your unconscious fawning over him. You opened your mouth slowly and dazed,

“Vash, yo-”

“DON’T LOOK DON’T LOOK!” He shrieked out, arms flying up to cover anything they could.

Your hands sounded like gunshots as they collided against your eyes. Stupid, stupid! Everything that had echoed dully in your brain crashed together in a cacophonous tragedy as you came to your senses. And by the sounds of it, Vash found himself in the same predicament. Audible thrashes and shrill “eeks!” were the only way you could tell he still remained in the room. He quieted down a bit as he rummaged through his bag—for a shirt you predicted. There was no doubt in your mind he was sober from your shared mental breakdown, albeit one was far more vocal than the other. You felt ashamed in your actions, and were no better than a peeping Tom!

You scrambled to make an apology, something to atone for the embarrassing act you just committed against him. But before you could, he beat you to it.

“…I’m sorry you had to see that, I really am, it’s not a pretty sight and I’m sorry you-”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking at all,” You exhaled. “I was thinking about how pretty you were… in the…moonlight?”

It came out as a doubting question but the words you spoke couldn’t be any truer. Vash was extremely beautiful, far more than your words could ever tell.

…Meanwhile, he looked at you like you had just shot him in the foot at point blank range. His cheeks were a hazy flush and his eyes darted around your face crazily, looking at every single feature sitting upon it. You slightly shrunk under his intense surveying, a bit confused on what he was doing.

“Sooo, are you gonna say som-”

“YOU LOOK PRETTY TOO!” He jumped to cut you off and leaned forward a bit to accentuate his profession. The blush sitting on his cheeks flowed bashfully to his neck and chest—at least what wasn’t covered by his loose shirt— as he shifted nervously. “In the moonlight as well, I mean.” A cheeky smirk appeared after he spoke, as if he hadn’t fumbled as hard as you did.

What a tease.

“Is that why you were looking at me so hard? You liked what you saw as much as I did, hm?” You leaned forward a bit, mirroring his anxious actions.

“What’s not to like?” Vash’s smirk turned into a charming smile, “Women all across town would want a chance to get with the Humanoid Typhoon, you know!”

“Oh I know alright.” You roll your eyes in exasperation, “So what about me, I got a chance with Vash the Stampede?”

His face blew up in a furious blush again at your teasing tone, you got him. A snickered laugh bubbled from your chest as he tried to come up with something else so that he could win.

You can believe you were nervous to bunk with him for the night, did you seriously forget who he is? The laughter smothered all the attempts he made to make a jab at you, but you couldn’t focus on them anyway. Everything in your mind at the moment was swarming with him instead. Of his genuine laugh, of his jokes, of his lanky arms throwing themselves around you to give you a hug. Memories, thoughts, and words unspoken you always wanted to say just made you giggle all the more at him for just being. With all your heart, you wished he would have the same thoughts as you at least once.

And yet, if you weren’t so oblivious maybe you would’ve seen it.

Another lovestruck fool looking longingly at the one they fell head over heels for.

[whatever-i-dontknow]

[whatever-i-dontknow]

Anyone know where I can get some good Trigun merch? I like both Stampede and the original 1998 anime, both are awesome and I want to make an impulsive financial decision because I'm hyper fixated on Trigun like nobody's business ☠️.

[whatever-i-dontknow]

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

[whatever-i-dontknow]

There was a Vash/reader slowburn fic I remember being SUPER into last year and now I can't seem to find it anywhere on AO3 😢😢😢. I'm pretty sure it was an isekai for the reader? They weren't used to being in the desert, and were sensitive to the heat.

I remember there being a stretch in it where the reader and Vash were holed up in a small town and the reader got a job as a dishwasher at a restaurant for a bit? It's super vague I know but it's been like a year and all I can remember are the barest flickers of it.

Anyway I remember REALLY enjoying it so if it still exists out there in any capacity and this strikes a chord with anyone I would LOVE if you shot me a link. I've been craving a re-read. (I don't think it was finished but I don't care, I'll read it in any capacity.)