#let wolfwood cry hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

triplesilverstar · 3 months

Text

File versions are important

There are several people to blame for this masterpiece and I'd name you all here but I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable. So thanks folks for this brain worm of being railed by Professor Wolfwood that I had to write to get it out of my head. Go with whatever version of Wolfwood you want folks. He's just got some sexy salt and pepper going on.

Pushing a hand through your greasy hair as you tap your foot at the print shop before looking at your watch again. Biting your lip because of the nerves coursing through your system, you only have half an hour until your paper is due and you spent the last eight hours making your final edits. You weren’t a procrastinator by any means, as soon as you’d seen the assignment you had started. The problem was your professor.

Professor Wolfwood was a known stickler for details and grammar and was well known for having made more than one student cry over the years. You’d seen it in person during your first month in his lecture hall. So you knew you needed this paper to be perfect in every sense of the word. Biting your nail as you looked at your watch again and your time was slowly slipping away. The professor was one of the few you had that still believed in paper copies of your work, then again given his field you shouldn’t have been all that surprised, as a theology professor he seems to be rooted in hard copies like the books he lectured on.

After what felt like an eternity you were handed your documents and you ran as fast as your legs would take you towards where Professor Wolfwood’s office was on campus with a third of your final grade in hand. Sliding to a stop and almost landing on your butt as you quickly knocked against the wooden grain of his door and tried to make yourself look more presentable.

“Cutting it close aren’t you?” His voice is gruff as he opens the door and states your name almost as if you’re nothing but dirt he walks on but holds out his hand regardless for you to hand him your paper. Swallowing as his salt and pepper hair seems to wave in an air current you can’t feel, hoping he takes it for nerves and not your attraction to the broad figure before you. If he had been anyone but one of your teachers that you met in a bar or on a date you’d have let the man rail you long before now.

Who wouldn’t with the way his jaw seemed to always sport a five o’clock shadow and his hair was in disarray as if he had just rolled out of bed. The smell of tobacco wafted from his skin with a smell you couldn’t place but it certainly was a smell that had fed many of your fantasies over the weeks you’d been in his classes. Once someone had thrown a bottle of water at him and your entire lecture hall had received an amazing view of the man as his white dress shirt clung to every inch of him. Trying to find your tongue in your mouth before you started drooling you gave a quick nod hoping it didn’t make you seem like a bobblehead. “I know you like perfection, Sir.”

Flipping through your paper before setting one of his dark orbs firmly on you. If you hadn’t been trying to hide the flush on your cheeks you might have noticed the way his eyes darkened the longer he took in your appearance. “Perfection doesn’t exist, but I expect my students to strive for it. Unless you have something else go home, you look like you need a shower.”

Scrambling you started backing away, hitting your back against the corner of the hallway and letting out a soft grunt “Ugh. No sir. See you in class tomorrow.” Waving your hands in front of you as if asking for some kind of forgiveness before turning on your heels, almost tripping over your own two feet, and darting off towards home. Once there you notice the paleness of your skin and the vivid bags under your eyes and the veins of red through the white portion of your eyes. Taking a sniff under your arm you groan. “I should have planned for a shower before I ran to get the print job.”

The next day you woke up feeling refreshed, a quick shower before you crawled under your sheets and slept like the dead. Stretching and planning for a longer shower you feel like you’re on top of the world with a skip in your step, you’ve got a few hours before you need to head to class. With all the work you’ve been doing you haven’t been taking a lot of time with your personal appearance and you plan to shave your legs and trim a few things. Humming as you flick on your radio and head for the bathroom.

Feeling clean an hour later after letting the hot water pound into your muscles you feel on top of the world, grabbing your bag and planning to grab yourself a nice iced tea before heading for campus. Skipping along the sideway as you go and open the app on your phone, accidentally hitting the wrong button and opening the one for the print shop near your apartment that you use.

It’s a good thing you don’t have that drink yet as you freeze looking at the screen. “Version 8.7 printed.” Your heart is starting to race inside your chest as you stare at the version number and try to swallow past the desert that your mouth has become.

Your final version was 8.8.

Jumping into your files and seeing what 8.7 has you groan, ignoring the stare being sent your walk from other patrons walking on the sidewalk. The version you printed has all your editing, all your opening and closing remarks, but it’s missing one massive thing the final version had.

Your citations aren’t on this version. What you wouldn’t do for the ground to open up and swallow you whole right now because without any citations the paper was useless and you just threw that much of your grade down the toilet. Your shoulders start to heave as a sour taste rises along the back of your tongue, all that work down the drain. Staring at the app and the blinking light asking if you want to print the document you have open.

Even if you did print it it’s not like you could explain it to him and you know Friday mornings he goes in late to his office after working with his undergraduate students. Pressing the back of your hand to your eyes.

Wait.

It’s Friday morning.

A terrible thought crosses your mind. He’d never have to know as you hit the button to print on your phone with your plan firm in your pretty little head. For a university student, you’d think you’d be a bit more rational.

You can’t believe how smooth this is going, from printing the correct paper and heading to campus as if you weren’t plotting something nefarious. Even getting into the professor's office had been easy. All you had to do was turn the burnished knob and it opened. You really can’t believe your luck, flipping through his files as you look for your paper in among the stacks.

Half an hour later you don’t feel as lucky, starting to sweat and you know you have to be coming unglued with your ass up in the air as you flip through the files in his desk. It doesn’t make sense. His office is barely bigger than a broom closet even if the window about three quarters of the way up the wall seems to cast some light into the room. “Where is it!” Your voice is desperate as you know your time is running out.

“Where.” A gruff voice echos are the space and you feel your heart stop beating inside of your chest. “Is what?” If you thought Professor Wolfwood was gruff before with the tones lacing his words you know you’re about to be thrown out of your class at a minimum.

“Hi, professor.” You’ve never felt so small before standing up to face him and looking down at the ground, waiting for the screaming to start.

“Don’t you hi me! What the hell are you doing in my office!” The few steps he has to take sound like the thunder of your death march playing. Holding out your paper for him to take and flinching at the way he snatched the stack from your hand. “Oh, this is just perfect.” Slamming the stack on his desk and making you visibly flinch. “Just another filthy cheat, looking for more time to get her paper done.” Rolling his shoulders as he looks to the sky and you feel even worse as your eyes zoomed in on the way the muscles of his neck seemed to tense up. “Just another one of those goddamn pretty little airheads that think she can get by being a pretty little slut, you like everyone looking at you don’t you.”

It stings to hear yourself called that, you worked so hard and now it feels like everything is crashing down around your ears and the professor isn’t done. “Here I thought you were one of the good ones, but no, you’ve proven to be as useless as the rest of them. Is there anything you little desperate whore won’t do to come out on top?” Staring up at him as tears start to line your eyes and the professor is towering over you looking down his nose and you feel more wetness forming. “Oh, now you start with the fake tears you pathetic little bitch. I’m going to have you thrown out of this university and see to it you never get into another higher institution for learning ever again.”

You let out a soft noise as he crowds into you and you try to move back only to have the edge of his desk digging into your back. This close his breath washes over your face and you can smell the tobacco from his last cigarette while the heat from his chest starts to radiate into you. You’re having a hard time comprehending the terror you should be feeling at his words but this close your body is more interested in reacting to his. Now isn’t the time for your body to tell you how you might have a degradation kink. You can even see the white whiskers amongst the hairs on his chin. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Grinding his teeth as he finishes his question and you let out a small whimper when his hips brush against yours.

“I printed the wrong version.” Your voice is more like the wing of a bird on a warm updraft with how low and soft it is.

“Come again?” For the first time since he came in the bite isn’t in his tone even if his chest is still heaving from his rage.

“I printed the wrong version.” Raising your voice a little and pulling your phone from your pocket to show the tanned man that was your professor the date and time stamp from the last time you edited the file.

Taking the phone from you and looking at the information before dragging his hand down his face, making no other motion to move away. His eyes flicker across the screen and you try to hunch more into yourself, feeling something rather stiff between his legs and it’s pressing against you. Biting your lip while his fingers flick along the screen to bring up another page before he lets out a long sigh and you have to do everything in your power not to let out a whimper. This man has to know what an effect he has on some of his students when he makes noises like that and runs his fingers through his hair as if he’s just woken up from a night of fucking someone senseless.

“You were exhausted yesterday.” Handing your phone back to you and you feel a long exhale pass his lips. Lips that before now you never noticed were chapped and looked oh so kissable. “Why didn’t you just tell me what happened?”

You freeze up again as his hands land on his desk effectively caging you in without even realizing it and you try to move, rubbing your thighs together and you regret the action immediately as your core starts to feel moist. “I didn’t think you’d believe me. After all, I’m just some airhead.” You shrug or try to, hoping throwing his words back at him will get you a little space. The last thing you need is for your professor, your exceptionally hot professor that you are starting to fantasize about bending you over his desk and fucking you like an animal, realizing you want in his pants.

Groaning and letting his head drop before whispering “I didn’t mean to call you that, you’re one of the brighter students I’ve had in a while.” With his head downward it’s like he finally takes notice of the position the two of you are in, licking his lips and you want to grab his face and suck on the tip of that tongue. “Shit this is an awkward position.”

“If you want to scream at me some more we could pretend it’s roleplaying.” You blanch as soon as the words pass your lips. That was not a smart goddamn idea. All your earlier attempts at hiding your flushed face and growing arousal are out of the window as your professor raises one of his dark eyebrows in response.

“I must be more exhausted than I thought because you couldn’t have enjoyed that.” A fraction of a movement of his arm and it brushes against the edge of your shirt making it rise just enough that skin is touching skin.

Hearing him voice it, you can see the fine lines along his eyes and the barely discernible bags under his eyes. The collar of his shirt has a stain from the sweat from brushing against his neck all day in and out, so vivid compared to when you’re sitting in your chair in the lecture hall. If you had thought you were running on empty yesterday he’s even more past that point. “Maybe.” Licking your lips and taking a chance since you’ve already dug part of a hole for yourself so why not finish it. “It’s obvious you get some enjoyment if your pants are anything to go by.” He’s not hard enough for it to be visible but you are wedged against his crotch and there is no denying what you feel against your core.

“I have eyes.” The growl that follows the statement is clear and your panties are damp from the steady stream of fluid dripping from you. “I’m as affected by attractive people as much as the next person.”

The two of you are at a stalemate neither moving away nor closer, you never would have thought being ripped into you would get you so horny but it did and now you want nothing more than to be railed by your sin-inducing theology professor. “If you find me attractive, then why don’t you punish me for being a bad student. I did break into your office and go through your files, how do you know I didn’t change my grade in your records?” Your heart is thumping hard in your chest and you find it a little hard to swallow but there’s a current along your skin and a churning in your gut.

You don’t need to look down to know his pants have grown tighter, emboldened by his reaction you roll your hips and let out a noise as his firm length rubs along your covered cunt. “Fuck.” A long blink and one of his cheeks are sunk in as if he’s biting the inside of it. A low rumble from him that has your core clenching in response. “If you want this, I want it perfectly clear I'm not having sex with my student. I’m punishing a nosey brat who broke into my office.” His eyes are like jet pools and you can’t help but stare at the way his adams apple seems so prominent along his neck.

“I’d really like to be punished.” Letting your voice drop and moving so you’re flush against him and wrapping your hands around his neck. “Sir.”

It’s like a switch as his lips crash against yours with enough force to clack your teeth together, one of his rough hands tangled in your hair and pulling your head back so he can dominate your mouth. The taste of cheap cigarettes and a hint of something you don’t know on his tongue as he shoves the muscle into your mouth forcing you to move in tandem with him. His other hand gripping one of your butt cheeks and squeezing the flesh in his wide palm moaning into the kiss. If it could be called a kiss with how domineering it is.

Grinding his hips into you, you let out a whimper that's lost under his grunts and the sound of his tongue plundering your mouth, he’s hard now and there’s no doubt he’s one well endowed man. Breathless as his mouth pulls away from yours if it wasn’t for his hands on you and his desk behind you, you think you might have slumped to the ground. Letting out a shuddering breath as you try to calm down your racing heart. “Look at you, a desperate pathetic mess.” The hand on your butt sliding to your crotch and rubbing your inner thighs. “Breaking into someone's office and sticking that fine ass of yours in the air like a little bitch in heat.” Tugging on the strands of your hair making you hiss as your eyes roll into the back of your head as his words have you panting for a different reason now.

“As much as you deserve a harsh punishment we’re short on time.” Slapping your covered cunt and your reeling as he steps back releasing your hair and his fingers are quick to unsnap your pants and shove them down your hips with your underwear. “Filthy slut, you were getting off on rooting around my desk. These skimpy things are drenched.” Shoving two of his thick digits into your core and curling them against your walls. You’re embarrassed about the low keen that you make from the sudden intrusion. “What happened to all that bravado earlier? Just like a pathetic bitch putting on a show until something is inside that desperate hole.”

In a matter of seconds, he has you flipped around with your chest pressed against the desk and can hear his belt and zipper being undone. “I have something bigger to fill that hole.” Letting out a wordless scream as he splits you open on his cock, only for a hand to slap over your lips. “Such a loud slut.” You moan and whimper beneath his hand as your walls spasm while you try to adjust to his girth stretching you wide open. You’ve never felt so hot in all your life, moaning as he leans over you and it places more pressure against your insides and you’re crushed against his desk. “Now I need you to be quiet, or we might get caught.”

Sliding his hand away you let out a mewl as your pussy clenches around him like a vice. “Professor.”

“Nicholas.” Starting to slowly pull out of your tight walls as the spasming slows. “I told you, we’re not fucking as student and professor. You’re a desperate hole I’m going to use after breaking into my office.” The first few thrusts are measured and slow but that doesn’t last once your slick is covering his cock and he glides in your tight cunt.

You're feeling warm as you pant “Nicholas” his name like a prayer as his hips start to pound away inside of you and you’re seeing stars. Your fingers grip the wood as best as you can, you can’t do anything else with the way he has you positioned, gasping as the weight that had you trapped against the desktop is removed and he starts slamming harder into your core.

“It makes sense now, you wanted to be punished did you little bitch? To have me rail you and this tight damn cunt of yours.” The sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the wet squeching of your thighs as he fucks so thoroughly you can barely think. “What I’d give to push you to the edge over and over again and hold back, but fuck it’s been a while. Now tell me where you want it because we’re almost out of time.”

You swallow as your pussy grips him like a vice hearing how close he is, and you know what you want. “Inside. I'm on the pill.” Whining as his hand tangles in your hair once more and tugs your head back hovering at the edge of pain.

“Greedy little slut, you better keep all my cum in that tight little hole of yours then.” A few more thrusts and you hear him groan long and low as he spills himself inside of you. You don’t even care that you didn’t get to cum yourself as it feels like an impossible amount is pumped inside of you. Mewling at the warmth spreading inside of you.

A nasally exhale above you as you try to catch your breath before one of those rough warm palms slaps your ass before rubbing it. Surprised when he lowers his chest to your back once more and releases your hair to kiss your neck just below your shirt collar. Whimpering as he pulls out, missing the way he filled you already. Those warm hands slid your panties back in place before stepping back and turning you to face him, his eyes on your now covered core and watching as the darkening fabric spreads outwards. You take the time to look between his own legs and feel your eyes grow to plates, he’s thick and the base of his cock has the same salt and pepper pattern as his hair. Damn that man is hung and you lick your lips wanting to have it split you open again. “That’s a very nice dick, Nicholas.”

A brief laugh before he finishes pulling your pants up and closing them with a pant to your pussy before tucking his softening length back inside his slacks. Digging through his briefcase for a bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes. “Take that and get yourself cleaned up.” Placing one of the white sticks between his teeth and you feel a little jealous. “You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked and you still need to get to class.” Pushing the window open before flicking his light. “I’d rather we not be seen walking in together.” Turning away from you and you feel a little bit of shame at the fact you just let your professor cum in you like some whore.

Turning on your heels hoping no one sees you before you get to the bathroom to try and clean yourself up only to hear your name. “Don’t clean up between your legs. I expect to see my cum dripping out of your thighs when I continue your punishment later.” Oh, you are so fucked. Hurried steps taking you out of his office and to the nearest washroom, and when you look in the mirror he is right. You do look like you just had been in the ringer and you didn’t even cum yourself.

Taking your seat in the lecture hall you’re glad for the water bottle Nicholas gave you, taking a sip and hoping no one looks to closely at you. As much as you had been able to fix your appearance you still feel like if someone looks at you they’ll be able to tell that your shared professor’s cum is still deep in your core with some of the opaque liquid seeping out of you. Walking down the hall it felt like it had been dribbling down your thigh and you were self-conscious as you sat there. For all your fear though, you were equally as excited the flames your tanned professor had brought blazing to life might have been simmering now but the embers still had you warm.

That promise of continuing later had you swimming in a torrent of hormones and emotions, the image of his flaccid dick flashing in your mind and you had to bite your lip. Damn, you wanted to feel him again, have him ravage your insides all while telling you what a slut you were. You didn’t think you were into that before but now? If Nicholas wanted to put a collar on you, strip you naked, and tell you to beg for his cock with your ass up in the air you’d have begged as if your life depended on it.

The slamming of the door near the dais of the hall and you had to hold back the whimper you wanted to let out as Nicholas, no Professor Wolfwoof strode into the space. He looked just a bit more put together than when you had left him but still looked exhausted. Or maybe after being that close to him, you could still see it. “Oh good.” His voice has that low timber to it that your cunt can’t help but quiver as a reaction as he surveys the room. “At least half of you could be bothered to show up. To carry on with our last discussion...” There isn’t any preamble as he launches into the subject just like every other lecture of his you’ve attended for class.

With your notepad open you do your best to take note of what he’s saying, following the high points he brings up about today's subject. You know you’ll have to read up on it later as his voice is going in one ear and right out the other, the sound of his voice like velvet and you can’t help but rub your thighs together. Trying to gain the smallest relief as your clit throbs and your panties grow damper stuck to your slick skin, more of his seed dribbling from your clenching core.

Watching him walk and taking notice of the way his broad hands sweep along as he speaks, the same hands that had been squeezing your ass less than an hour ago. Taking another sip of water to try and hide your swallow, because you’d rather feel those hands on your hips once more.

As his gaze moves across the lecture hall and lands on you, you feel your heart rate skyrocket as the tip of his tongue partially licks his lips. Shifting your thighs once more as another dribble leaves you, and from the way his eyes darken momentarily before moving on you know he’s seen you and how flustered you are.

The hot asshole smirks, and you wonder if he knows how you feel with his cum slowly dripping from you, making you sticky and oh so horny.

It’s the worst class you’ve ever had, sitting there suffering your growing arousal and knowing the man responsible for it is carrying on as if nothing is wrong. Or unlike you, he’s far better at hiding it. A soft call of your name has you turning to the person next to you. “Are you alright? You look like you’re flushed or something.” Shit. They look really concerned as they watch your reaction.

“Yeah.” Trying to whisper and trailing a hand down the side of your neck. “Just feeling warm. Are you warm?” You can try and play of the heat on your face as maybe starting to just feel a bit under the weather. They shake your head and you give a weak smile.

“Care to share the conversation with the rest of the class?” Flinching a little as the professor's voice booms across the room and your pussy betrays you with a hard clench that has your abdomen tensing with it.

“Professor” At least you don’t have to answer as the other student speaks up and says your name. “Doesn’t look all that well. I was asking if she feels ok.”

As his dark eyes land on you, you scramble, you're just goddamn horny and he knows that. “Apologies Sir. I just feel warm all of a sudden, maybe I’m sitting under a vent or something? Really I’m alright and I do apologize for interrupting your lecture. It was rude.” You hope he sees it as an attempt to deflect away from your current predicament and your stupid body feels warmer as his eyes keep staring at you.

“It is a little on the warm side in here today. Perhaps you should drink your water or leave instead of being a disruption.” You’ve never been so glad your professor is a dick as half the students in the lecture hall wince at the bite in his words as he goes back to giving his lecture. Taking a larger swig of water before glaring at the classmate who started the problem, you might as well add to the drama by making it seem like you’re upset at having the professor's venom thrown at you.

Thankfully they don’t say anything else and you make a conscious effort to drink the rest of your water throughout the class. Missing the way the professor's eyes would glance at you when you did, and the subtle tightening of his pants.

By the end of the three hour lecture, you’re ready to burst from the burning arousal that’s had time to build in you since you had been called out for having a conversation. Every flick of the professor's eyes had you tensing, his voice changing in cadence making your pussy spasm and your clit was throbbing painfully against the sodden fabric. You almost jolted as your classmates hand landed on your shoulder, looking at you a little sheepish as they whispered your name while most of your classmates left through the doors at the back of the atrium. “Are you sure you’re ok? Do you want to go to the clinic or something?”

“I’m fine.” Rolling your shoulder to try and dislodge their hand. “If I wanted help I’d ask and please don’t touch me.”

“You don’t need to be a bit-”

“Pardon the interruption but is there a reason the two of you are still here?” The venom is back in the professor's voice and he’s right beside you watching your interaction with a sneer.

“No, we were just leaving.” Your classmate still hasn’t removed his hand from you and you snap back, there is no way you’re leaving with them.

“Are you deaf? Take your hand off me, I don’t need you to walk me out.” Batting his hand away you’re surprised when the professor slips between the two of you.

“I think it best if you leave.” Coughing slightly and you can tell he’s making a point to let the other students know they will if they know what’s best for them. Snapping your name you flinch. Shit. “You sent me an email saying you needed to discuss something about your paper with me?”

Stammering out a quick “Yes Sir.” You didn’t think right after class he’d want to continue from earlier or maybe he’s using it as an excuse to make sure the other student does leave.

The lecture hall is silent except for the sound of stomping feet and once that fades you’re surprised once more as the professor walks up the stairs as well, the doors are tucked behind a wall but the sound of them locking rings about the space before he returns. “I’d rather if we aren’t interrupted.” Waving his hand towards the table on the dias that he occasionally uses to display items for one of his lectures you follow behind him. “What’s your experience with BDSM?”

You almost choke and fall on the steps at how casual he sounds. “Ugh none.”

“I should be the one apologizing then, earlier I simply took control and you had no mechanism to stop me or put any boundaries in place. I’d like to rectify that if you want to continue with your punishment.” Leaning on the table with his long legs crossed, the action puts his growing bulge on display for you and you swallow.

“I do. I really do. Every time you looked at me during the lecture I wanted to melt thinking of your dick.” There isn’t a point to lying to him, because it’s the truth.

“Well darlin', let’s get into the rules.” Launching into an explanation of basic BDSM etiquette and explaining the stop light system to you. You nodded and asked questions of him, and in short order, he had a better understanding of what you felt were subjects you didn’t want to talk about and how far he could push you physically. “Ready to finish your punishment?”

You give a brief nod “Yes Sir.” Slipping close to his body and groping his cock, the tendons of his neck stand out and you lean in to lick along the straining tissue.

“I see my desperate little hole with legs is ready for more.” Gripping your hair to use like a handle and tilting your head away from his neck so he can slot his lips over yours. Almost snarling as he does so and your body responds with a low hum as you shake against him, his teeth sinking into your lower lip before swiping his broad tongue over it. “We just started and you’re already losing that false bravado.” Your grip on his dick had loosened but when your whole body is suddenly on fire, well it’s hard to think. “I guess we’ll see if you can at least follow directions, if not I might have to punish you a different way.”

The hand not in your hair is at your pants again, forcing them down your legs and to the floor while his mouth is back on you. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips as he slides his finger along your covered slit, a noise of satisfaction at the way the damp fabric sticks to the rough digit. Your hands flail before landing on his shoulders trying to keep yourself upright and your chest pressed tightly to his at the awkward angle. Rising to your toes as he starts to finger you through the wet cloth of your panties, while his tongue dominates your mouth once more.

Pulling away harshly he drops with his knees bent and still on his feet so his eyes are level with your covered pussy. Pushing the sodden fabric away from your slit and pressing a single digit inside of you and curling it as he removes it with a wet slurp inspecting it in the light to see the globs of his cum stuck to his fingers with some of your own juices. “Good little slut.” Sticking it in his mouth and sucking it clean with a groan. “Since you can listen and do as you’re told, your punishment won’t be as severe. I’m going to fuck you on this table and let you cum. This time.” Getting you to step out of your pants and Nicholas has you leaning back against the table but not before sliding the flat of his tongue along your folds and smacking his lips as he stands. Grabbing fistfuls of your ass and lifting you into the air so you’re sitting on the cold surface.

“Pro-Nicholas. It’s cold.” Whining as your body trembles from the difference in temperatures as he works his pants open and lets them drop to the floor. His boxers shoved down his thighs until his cock can bob in the air freely and you can’t help but stare at the large balls hanging from them.

“You’ll be warm soon, once this dick splits you open again you’ll have nothing to complain about hole.” Slapping your ass harshly as he grinds his teeth giving himself a pump or two. “And that’s Sir right now slut. Consider it your only warning.”

“Yes Sir.” Moaning as he lines himself up with your messy slit and another hand between your breasts pushing your back again the surface of the table.

“Remember your colors.” A quick reminder before he slides himself home with a groan, tossing his head back you start to pant like a bitch in heat as your walls welcome his burning length deep inside you again. With the height of the table, the two of you are perfectly aligned for him to slide in and out of your dripping pussy with ease and he sets a rapid pace. “Such a good little whore, you like this don’t you.” His hands on the top of your knees keeping your legs spread open for him as he ruts into you. “Getting fucked in a lecture hall, where anyone could walk in and see.” Your stomach tenses from his words, the voice at the back of your head whispering how the doors are locked drowned out by the idea of someone seeing the two of you like this. What a fucking scandal that would be, the meanest teacher on campus fucking a student like he wants to breed them. “Shit, you do like that.”

Pulling you more to the edge of the table so he can change the angle and you mewl squirming in his grasp as the head of his cock is rubbing against your G spot. The churning in your gut grows stronger and you can’t help but pant and arch your back. “Sir. I’m gonna cum.”

“Then touch yourself and cum on this fat dick slut.” You shouldn’t be as turned on by his dirty talk as you are, attributing part of it to the rasp that drips from every word but your fingers are on your clit as soon as he told you to touch yourself. Rubbing them circles over the hard bundle of nerves with the hood pulled back, Nicholas never relents and you’re slumping when your release hits you to the table with a noiseless scream.

Nicholas grins as he changes his hold on your legs once more but never stops bucking into your supple hole, dragging out your orgasm as long as can. Your tight cunt feels like heaven and he doesn’t remember the last time he got off using his hands, which means it’s been even longer since his cock was surrounded by the warmth of another person. He’d already spilled in you once today and if you let him a second time he was going to blast a load as deep in your cunt as he physically could.

“Hmmmm, yellow.”

Stopping the movement of his hips when you utter the color and his hand sweeps along your quaking middle. “Yellow as in you’re approaching your limit, or yellow as in you need a break?” As much as Nicholas wants to keep fucking your tight hole he wants to respect your boundaries.

“Overstimulated. Need… to… calm down.” As you speak broken words he chuckles, not removing his dick from your core.

“Alright. Tell me when you want to keep going if you do.” Shifting his hold on you once more so your legs can rest over his arms as you catch your breath. Nicholas can’t help but stop grinning, seeing you split open like that for him. Damn, he could get used to this, you weren’t bad to look at and you had a decent head on your shoulders even if today showed you didn’t always think clearly. Thanking the god of every religion he taught about that you made that mistake or he might not be buried between your thighs right now.

As you come down from your high with an arm draped over your face you let out a long exhale, moving it enough to see Nicholas looking down at your body like it’s a temple he’s about to worship. You’re struck that you haven’t seen him fully naked yet and it’s something you want badly. “Green.” Your voice is steady as you say the word and you wonder if you can come up with a way to see him again after this.

“Back to the game.” A few languid thrusts and then he’s back to ramming into you like his sole purpose is to turn you into a puddle on the table. “Now that you’ve had your reward slut, it’s time for your punishment. I’m gonna cum long and hard inside this tight cunt of yours, but only if you beg me for it.”

“Yes!” It doesn’t matter that you just had your release, a second one is already building from the ashes of the old one and the idea of Nicholas filling you up again has gone straight to your head. A hand slapping your ass and you know you need to actually beg. “Please, Sir! I’m just a desperate hole for your dick! Cum in me! I beg you!” Your voice grows in volume as you plead for him to finish in you, gasping as he pulls your butt to the edge of the table and tossing your legs over one of his shoulders.

“Since you begged my little bitch, I’ll fill you up. Again and again.” Like this, your walls are even tighter and you can’t help but squirm from the pleasure flooding your system as the veins of his cock rub against your insides deliciously. A noise you didn’t even know you could make echoing around the room as he puts his weight on your legs so the head of his cock is almost hitting your cervix. “The next time we fuck.” Panting now as his hips start to stutter, growing close to his second release of the day. “I’m” One hand is pushing the fabric of your shirt up. “Putting” The other is holding your hip in place so you can’t slide back across the table. “You.” The hand under your shirt is starting to knead your breast and you moan. “In” Rough digits push your bra away. “A mating press.” Those same digits squeeze your hard nipple as the hairs at the base of his cock brush your clit and your neck arches as your release slams through you.

Nicholas hisses through his teeth as your pussy squeezes around him as his balls empty his seed inside you once more, the sensation of being milked as more and more cum is drawn from his balls and he can’t help but think of next time. Maybe he’ll fuck you in a bed. Or a shower. Easier clean-up.

When you return to your senses, Nicholas is still inside of you but you can feel as his member is softening inside your walls and his release is dripping down the globs of your butt. “Nicholas?” His hand that was rubbing your sides under your shirt stills as he lets out a soft noise.

“Hmm?”

“Can we see each other again?” Licking your lips as you expect him to say he’ll see you every week for the rest of the semester. “Like this, having sex?”

“Well, I was hoping when you woke up you’d be down for round three. My apartment is two roads over. Or at least follow me there for a shower since I owe you that at least.” Oh, you’ll take him up on both options. Walking out later on unsteady legs and discussing what it means going forward, even if you’re far too focused on the idea of choking on his cock at some point instead of his words.

After all. He’s hot and you’re down for him and that monster between his legs anytime and anywhere.

#trigun smut #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader smut #nicholas d. wolfwood smut #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader smut #wolfwood smut #trigun #trigun maximum #trimax #tristamp #trigun stampede #trigun maximum smut #trigun stampede smut #trigun 98 #Trigun 98 smut

41 notes · View notes

penguinmerchant · 1 year

Text

Fool in the Moon binding

All right, time for a successful binding post, how about that? This was for @arahir's amazing work, Fool in the Moon. As you can probably tell by the rest of my feed right now I'm a little obsessed with Trigun at the moment (it's okay, it's normal, I feel normal things about all of these people, I'm not obsessing and listening to the soundtrack 24 hours a day, I haven't watched the whole thing twice in two weeks, all of my targeted ads on my computer aren't about plants right now, I'm fine) and suffice to say this story was just an emotional gut punch. It's so good, you guys. Go read it.

Anyway. The binding.

This was my first time using holofoil vinyl, and it turned out AMAZING. Look how pretty it is. And the color change in the light is just crazy.

Here's the back. Sorry I don't know how to make a gif, or I would totally show you guys how it shimmers and ripples. At certain angles it's green, blue, purple, orange, sometimes you can get it to be all of those at once, it's a really neat effect.

Also, I love the effect it gives when you open the book up (hard to do once it's bound with the textblock, but doable. This picture was taken before I cased in).

You have to squint your eyes a little but it's supposed to be reminiscent of Vash's sunglasses, and the way (spoilers? maybe?) his face looks when the plant lines come out. I think it's just the super neatest thing.

Here's the endpapers and the title page:

Isn't the title page just the coolest?

And here's a pic of some section breaks:

I just made them with the draw tool in Libreoffice, I wanted it to reflect the lines of the endpapers and maybe (?) look like dunes. Either way I think it turned out really great. I kind of maybe wish that I could have incorporated some of Wolfwood's imagery into this, but the design pretty much made itself and I'm super happy with it. Plus at the end of the day everything is about Vash, isn't it? He's Vash the Stampede! (I'm not crying YOU'RE crying!)

Anyway, I figured out the reason my previous book was so crooked was because my guillotine is messed up. It can't cut straight (which is...kind of the point) but it does okay on smaller works like this. So this one cased in very nicely. I used the 5 mm gutters again, and duo bookcloth (magpie I want to say?). The cricut vinyl came in a sample pack and unfortunately didn't come with a name (the sample pack was called Berry something), but it's very similar to Siser's Rainbow Pearl HTV, which is what I used for my copy. Once again the siser was a pain to use, with little bits flying off everywhere and wanting to wrinkle underneath the iron. I don't know why I keep buying that brand. But it worked in the end, and the effect of the holofoil is so cool I'll probably use it again. Endpapers are from Mulberry paper, I love those guys so much.

Let me know what you think! And if you have any questions please feel free to ask, I could talk about bookbinding stuff all day!

#fanfic bookbinding #fanbinding #bookbinding #trigun stampede #vashwood #ao3 author #fanfic #I'll get over that Trigun finale some day #but it won't be this day

150 notes · View notes

beelzebby666 · 10 months

Text

Mashwood Week Day 2: “If I Don't Make It Back From Where I've Gone Just Know I Loved You All Along”

"Stay here."

Meryl already doesn't like where this is going. Wolfwood's gripping the Punisher in one hand when he turns to her, the other looping around to grab the back of her neck. She goes to protest, to tell him he's being ridiculous and she's not letting him run off and do something stupid, when he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead.

It's gentle. The kind of gesture reserved for quiet moments shared between them and Vash in the private of closed doors. The kind of thing he only really does on rare occasions, his usual form of love language with her is a mix of bickering and teasing.

"Please," he whispers, lips still against her skin. "Please stay here."

She knows he and Vash worry about her. Can't always keep track of her in chaotic situations. And while she can hold her own she's less sturdy than either of them. Wolfwood sounds almost scared, begging her like this to just stay put for once. Things are bad. He must not know if he and Vash will even be okay.

Panic flares and her eyes swim with tears. Meryl reaches out and grabs his shirt with both hands, desperately yanking him back when he goes to pull away.

"No, no no no–"

Wolfwood’s hand wraps around one of her’s. He’s still being too gentle with her, coaxing her fingers open and off his shirt. Like he’s extracting something they shouldn’t have from a child’s grasp. Meryl grips tighter at his shirt with her other hand and chokes down a sob. She doesn’t want to cry, she wants to scream at him and tell him he’s stupid–they’re both stupid. But the icy fear gripping her chest won’t let anything but panicked whimpering come out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, gently pulling her other hand off his shirt. He lingers a moment, holding it while she grasps at his fingers and gasps for air. She can’t even look at his face, his own eyes too painfully full of remorse over upsetting her.

He won’t tell her it’s going to be okay. Because he doesn’t know.

There’s a commotion behind him and Wolfwood tenses, squeezing at her hand before letting it go. Vash needs him. And Vash needs her to stay where she is, out of danger. She knows this, understands it in theory, but feeling so powerless in a situation that they’re risking their lives in feels like Meryl’s being ripped apart.

He’s left her alone “for her own good” before. Years not knowing if Vash was alive and years of seeing Wolfwood once in a blue moon, looking more ragged and skinny than the last time. She’s barely gotten over the ache in her chest that caused and now this?

Wolfwood cups her cheek and wipes one of her tears away with his thumb. Meryl still wants to punch him and still wants to cling to him for dear life and still knows she’s not allowed to do either. He still won’t say it’s going to be okay, no matter how much he wants to.

Instead, he just says, “Please,” one more time before letting go of her face and leaving. So Meryl buries her face in her hands and sinks down to sit on the floor.

She knows one day he won’t come back, deep in her gut she swears she knows. Even if he does this time. Even if hours later, bloody and broken but still breathing, he and Vash haul each other back to find her, Meryl knows one day they won’t. And she knows all they want is for her to be safe. So all she can do is stay behind and hope it’s not goodbye for good.

#mashwood #mashwood week #fly writes #ao3 down :(#stryfewood #merylwood

81 notes · View notes

lost-technology · 4 months

Text

There Was Only One Bed

Ace Trigun Week Prompt 4: Non-Sexual Intimacy Wolfwood has a nightmare. Vash grounds him. Asexual Vashwood.

There Was Only One Bed Between the two of them, they were down to their pocket-change. They got the worst room in an old inn – just above a bar that was noisy for all hours of the night. Too exhausted to protest, they trudged up creaking stairs and frightened some skittering, winged sandworm larvae when they opened the door. The Punisher was immediately set up against a wall and Vash’s duffle bag immediately was dropped to the floor. There was only one bed. “You take it, Spikey,” Wolfwood offered. “You’re nursin’ a wound.” “You got shot up worse!” Vash protested. “We both know that you can’t take more of your weird glow-soup! I’ll set up in the corner. I’ll be fine.” The two had a silent argument for several minutes until Vash won the staring-contest. Wolfwood dropped into the bed. Vash propped himself up against his bag. The latter had just begun to snooze when he was awakened by noises of distress. Once he came to his senses, he saw Wolfwood thrashing. The man was moaning and then outright screaming, but not waking up. “Wolfwood!” Vash yelped as he was immediately at the bed, trying to shake his companion awake. The priest’s eyes snapped open. “Gah! Ha! Ah!” he gasped. “I was…” “It was a nightmare. Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” Vash assured him. Nicholas D. Wolfwood took stock of his surroundings. He looked at one of his hands. It was big. He was an adult with weapon-calloused fingers. He was not little and helpless, strapped down with leather, full of needles and pain. Vash climbed into the bed and hugged him, sitting with him upright. “What are you doin’ Spikey?” Wolfwood spat. Instead of answering, Vash began singing. “Everyone’s born as clean as a whistle, as fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy…” “What is IN that pea-brained spiky head of yours?!” Vash hugged him a little tighter. “I am trying to ground you. Make you feel safe. It’s what my mother used to do for me whenever I had a nightmare.” “I’m not some little brat!” “This world it’s dark, this world it’s scary, I’ve taken some hits, so no wonder I’m wary…” In spite of himself, Wolfwood began to calm down. He took a few deep breaths. “Where’d you hear that song, anyway?” “It’s from an old story,” Vash explained. “It’s kind of embarrassing, actually. It’s a song that a girl sings about a guy, all about how she can trust him. She later learns that he murdered his best friend and at that moment cannot trust or love him anymore. It’s pretty tragic. Still a nice song, though. It just came to me.” Wolfwood clenched his teeth behind his lips. Well, this was uncomfortable. Vash continued with the song, anyway. The priest had only known the snow that was constantly referenced in it from old storybooks. He wasn’t pure, even if Spiky might think so. This was a strange mix of aggravating and relaxing, but he was too dead-tired not to give in to the latter. “Everyone thinks they know all about me. They slap me with labels and spit out their fables…” Well, that much was true. The innocent man that he was leading to slaughter was a far cry from the ferocious outlaw that the world thought him to be. It was strange, this moment. They might as well as have been close as lovers, breathing against one another, one of them singing a bizarre song of love and betrayal. They were sharing a bed. Wolfwood wanted nothing more than to regain his bearings, to know safety. Vash wanted nothing more than to comfort him. They knew enough about each other to not care too much about other’s labels and their fables. Here they could stay. “I think I’ll be okay now,” he said hastily. “Like you said, it was just a nightmare. It can’t hurt me.” Vash leaned up against him, providing a bulwark of comfort. “I won’t let them hurt you anymore.” “Just get some sleep, Spikey.”

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #hunger games inspired #song is pure as the driven snow from the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ace trigun week 2024 #ace trigun week

24 notes · View notes

mydetheturk · 10 months

Text

Title: Hell, I'm Dead Anyway

Author: mydetheturk

Rating: M (for safety)

Word Count: 2,710

Warnings: Vomiting, Panic Attacks, Crying, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Wolfwood's Going Through The Horrors, Hallucinations

Summary: Wolfwood cracked too many ampules. Meryl and Vash can only keep him comfortable while he recovers.

Day 3 of @mashwoodweek! I chose "Ghosts" for reasons that will be Revealed in the fic. There's also a sprinkling of the poetry prompt "Tell me every terrible thing you've done, and let me love you anyway."

Title is from The Dark Tower Vol 2: The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King

(read on AO3)

There's some content warnings in the replies, if you're reading in the dash view and want to have some idea as to what's going down.

Meryl worries, when her boys get into gun fights. Vash can dodge anything when he wants to, but Nick… Nick tends to soak up the bullets and crack an ampule and chug whatever serum is in them. And this last gun fight had been. Bad.

It'd been bad.

Nick had cracked the glasses at least twice that Meryl had seen, and Vash admitted to seeing another two, not to mention what might've happened when the three had been separated. When Meryl had found Nick again, he was leaning against a horse hitch and standing over black sludge, surrounded by bodies of some of the bounty hunters after Vash.

He'd thrown up black sludge before collapsing, all before Meryl could finish calling out to him.

Meryl's panicked scream had brought Vash running.

That was a couple of hours ago.

Meryl isn't sure how they got Nick in their motel room without anyone seeing them or Nick getting covered in vile, black goop. Meryl's been holed up in the bathroom with him, making sure he doesn't die. Vash hasn't been allowed back in since Nick looked at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes and stopped breathing out of panic. It took about thirty seconds of stillness before Nick sucked in a ragged breath and vomited up more of the black goop, the tears in the corners of his eyes spilling over.

Vash had bolted, and he's been pacing back and forth in their motel room since, bringing Meryl whatever she's asked for. She's only seen something like this once out of Nick since they stuck together after July. It almost killed him then, and it feels like it's killing him now.

It's been a while since he last coughed up the black, rotten goop, and while his vision isn't totally clear, Nick actually looked at her when she called his name, so Meryl's taking it as a win.

“Nick? Baby?” Nick's so pretty eyes blink at her, unseeing. Meryl puts her hand on his cheek, and he pulls back weakly. “I'm going to have to get Vash in here. I can't move you myself. Okay?”

“Shl'dn' touch… hurt you…” Nick wheezes, and Meryl's heart cracks.

“You can't hurt a kitten right now, baby,” Meryl says. She kisses his sweaty forehead.

Nick's too hot, but they don't have a tub with their room, just the tiny closet that holds the toilet and sink. Meryl and Vash will have to get whatever they can to get him cooled down. She just needs to get Nick on the bed, first.

Nick hacks up another lungful of bile into the toilet, wheezing weakly. Meryl runs her hand across his shoulders until he slumps back.

“'m good. Be good. Won't run again,” he whispers. He's staring out past Meryl, at something only he can see. “'m sorry.” His hands keep clenching and unclenching and small shivers wrack his frame.

“Child assassin, made to grow up too fast,” Nick had told her, drunk on bathtub gin and grief. Meryl's put those words in a little box to examine when she has moments to herself. Trying to demand anything of Zazie doesn't work, but what the Worm's Voice has implied has been horrific.

“Vash!” Meryl calls over her shoulder. She doesn't want to corner Nick in the tiny bathroom, but they've gotta get him cooled down.

Vash nearly runs Meryl over in his haste. He's glowing slightly, whorls flickering into existence from his eyes outward. “Is he–”

“He's too hot. It's making him delirious,” Meryl says. She tries not to think about the couple of pictures of tiny baby Nico Miss Melanie had shown her with golden eyes too old for his soft baby face. She doesn't know how successful she is with controlling her voice, given how Vash pales with her words.

“Will – will he let me touch him?” Vash whispers. He hovers at the door, not wanting to put more stress on Nick.

“I don't think it's gonna be a will he, Vash. I think you’re just going to have to,” Meryl says, just as quiet. Nick's lips are moving but no words are coming out, and he's staring not at her but past her. His whole frame trembles and his breath keeps skipping. “We need to cool him off.”

Vash takes a couple of deep breaths and steps in, deliberately making noise. Nick twitches back, eyes flicking in Vash's direction. He's ashy under his tan, the ever so faint freckles just darker than his normal skin tone standing out.

Meryl doesn't know what ghosts he's seeing.

But she wants to find the remains of Millions Knives and use the Punisher's laser to make sure he isn't coming back. She wants to find whoever Legato is and hurt him for hurting Nick.

“I'm so sorry, Nicholas,” Vash says. He kneels down, and Meryl scoots out of his way. She can't really haul Nick around the way he can her – he's too dense and she's too short. “I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe.” Vash keeps his words low and soft and unhurried as he carefully takes Nick in his arms. Nick tries to get away, flinching and spitting and full of panic, but there's only so far he can get in the confines of the bathroom.

Nick's crying silently by the time Vash gets his arms around his torso.

“I know, I know,” Vash says. “I'm sorry.” He presses his cheek to Nick's. “I'm standing up now, Wolfwood. There we are.” Vash rolls to his feet, dragging Nick with him. Meryl moves up as well, drawn to them magnetically. Nick can barely keep his feet under him, he's shaking so hard. Vash keeps murmuring to him and there's a sound Meryl can feel coming from Vash's chest. “We're gonna walk now. I've got you. I'll let you go in a moment.” Vash backs them out the door, staring forward at the back wall of the bathroom the entire time. He keeps going until the backs of his legs hit the bed and then Vash turns, shifting Nick until he's the one with the mattress in the back of his knees. Meryl helps Vash manhandle Nick into the bed proper; Vash's hands don't linger the few times he touches Nick's skin.

“Can you run water as cold as the sink will get it, Vash?” Meryl says once they've got Nick as comfortable as they can. There's an expression on his face that says he can tell more about what's happening than Meryl can. She's not sure he'll say anything, though.

Vash uses his prosthetic fingertips to shift Nick's hair off his forehead. Nick’s eyes scrunch closed and he tries to pull back, but he doesn’t make it far. Tears streak in varying directions across his face, across the bridge of his nose when he looks away from Vash. “Yeah. Just a second.” With a heavy sigh, Vash grabs up some fabric – a towel, a spare shirt, things like that.

Meryl takes a moment to get Nick's shirt the rest of the way unbuttoned, exposing his torso to the hotel room. Placing her hand over his heart, she feels the way it jumps a little and his breathing catches. He’s scared and verging on passing out from his panic and what he was seeing.

Meryl's breath stutters on an exhale.

He's so stupid.

She lost Vash once, no matter that he came back; Meryl can't lose Nick too. Her breath hiccups and she chokes back a cry.

“Hey.” Vash taps her shoulder with his flesh hand, the glove off so she can see his hand fully when she turns her head to look at him.

“Yeah?” Meryl hates how small her voice is.

“Nicholas is stubborn,” Vash says. “I'm sure he'll pull through.”

Meryl wants to believe him. She does.

But the sense-memory of when Nick killed the man that had been the boy Rollo to save Vash's life rolls through her bones anyway. She doesn't want that for Nick.

Instead of voicing this, she holds out her hands for whatever Vash had taken with him to the bathroom. The fabric in her hands isn't super cold, but it's cooler than the air around them. Carefully, Meryl drapes the smallest pieces of fabric over the pulse points of his head and arms, saving the wet shirt (which is one of Vash’s) for Nick's torso, folding it in half and laying it across his chest.

It's not heat exhaustion or stroke, but she's not sure how else to handle it. They'll have to try getting some water in him at some point so he doesn't get dehydrated.

For now, it's all she can do.

“I'll make sure the bathroom is clean,” Vash says. “We don't want the lady at the desk getting angry with us. Innkeepers talk.” He says this lightly, but there's a look in his eyes. Meryl's sure the same look is in hers.

She pulls her eyes away from Vash's far too blue ones and casts a glance around their room. Something is missing. With a second, more thorough look, Meryl realizes what it is.

“We left the Punisher,” she says with dismay. It's been a few hours – she hopes no one stole it since they retreated to the motel room. Honestly, she's not sure how someone could; the gun so full of what Nick claims is mercy but is in actuality a horrifying number of bullets weighs more than Nick and Vash combined.

Vash's face falls, empty.

“I'll get it,” he says. “Stay here, I'll be back soon.”

“Hurry,” Meryl replies. She doesn't think the hunters who'd been after Vash earlier would strike again, but she doesn't want to risk it with Nick as bad off as he is.

“Of course. I always do.” Vash grabs the coat Nick's been wearing since July, sliding his arms through the sleeves like he never left it behind. Running his hand through his hair, it spikes up slightly. With his hair back and Nick's coat, he doesn't give off “Vash the Stampede.” It should hopefully be enough.

Nick's breathing evens out while Vash is out getting his gun. When Meryl checks on his pulse, it's still a little off, but going stronger than it had been.

Meryl drops her face into the mattress beside Nick's hip. “You're an idiot,” she whispers. She refuses to acknowledge the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes. “You stupid idiot, you can't do this to me.” She takes the closest hand in hers, threading their fingers together. Nick mumbles something incoherent.

Meryl's still refusing to cry when Vash comes back with the Punisher slung over his back. He looks a little worse, eyes red rimmed and tear tracks through the iridescent scales that show up when he starts glowing.

“How's he doing?” Vash asks. The Punisher makes a soft thump when Vash sets it down. The belts aren't quite right, but Meryl knows Nick will want to make sure his gun is fine when he wakes.

“Better,” Meryl says. “His heart though...” she trails off, biting her lip. There's nothing she can do; she's not a doctor, and Vash's 'profession' when he's going undercover is a Plant Engineer. Not to mention whatever he's got going on inside of him isn't going to be the same as Nick, who's definitely got something going on that a normal, unmodified human wouldn't have. There's no scars, but Meryl watches how he stretches his back, and it's unsettling to see how flexible it is. Sure, Nick broadened over the last couple of years, but there's something going on underneath.

Vash furrows his brow and moves to the other side of the bed they have Nick on. He places his ear to Nick's chest, eyes closing as he listens.

Vash blinks up at her after listening to Nick's chest for a moment. “I don't know if I can do anything for this, Meryl. His best bet might be...” Vash trails off.

The doctors at the Eye.

“Fuck,” Meryl says.

“Yeah.” Vash swallows. “That. That about sums it up.” He lets out a little giggle. It sounds about how Meryl's feeling.

Meryl laughs, a little hysterical thing. “It's going to be so fucking hard to make him not drink that fucking serum.” She's not even sure if there's a single member of the Eye that Nick trusts. From what Vash remembers of the fight on the sand steamer on their way to July, they were holding Nick's brother hostage as a way to make Nick work with them. Most of the people experimented on straight up die.

Vash stands back up and walks around the bed to wrap Meryl in his arms. She finally lets herself cry over the whole situation. “We'll let him heal,” Vash says. He's got that blank tone to his voice again. The one that makes Meryl sad and pisses Nick off. “If he gets worse, we'll head Home. Luida might be able to do something.”

Meryl's met a couple of the doctors on the ship. She hopes someone there can help.

At the moment, all they can do is wait and periodically cool the fabric they draped over Nick.

Meryl gets out her stack of reports and settles herself in the chair beside the bed. Vash cleans the bathroom within an inch of its life and then methodically cleans the Punisher before doing maintenance on his Colt. Both of them keep a desperate eye on Nick while they work. Its a little while longer before he finally slides into proper sleep, his breath deep and even. Something in Meryl's chest untangles at that. She hopes he's not having nightmares. Nick had looked at Vash and seen someone else. Meryl's pretty sure she knows who, since she sees blond hair and a beauty mark on the wrong side in her nightmares too.

Setting aside her reports, Meryl leans on the bed, pillowing her head on her crossed arms so she can stare at Nick. She loves an idiot with a sacrificial streak an ile wide and another idiot who has no sense of self-preservation when it comes to the people he cares about.

She closes her eyes. Just for a minute.

A shaky hand petting Meryl's hair makes her jolt up. The hand in her hair falls.

“Ow.” Nick's awake.

Nick's awake.

Meryl dives into his stomach, not giving a damn that she's sobbing all over him.

“Ow. Shortie, what's–”

“Don't do that to me again!” Meryl sobs.

The door creaks open, Vash stepping through. “I'm back,” he calls quietly. “The innkeeper was kind enough to give us something when I mentioned Nick's not...” He trails off, finally processing the scene before him. “Nicholas,” Vash breathes. The bag in his hand clatters to the floor and he joins Meryl in clinging to Nick. “Wolfwood – Nicholas, Nick.” He keeps repeating Nick's name, as though his brain has gotten stuck on Nick and Nick alone.

Nick makes a noise but doesn't shove either of them off of him. Not that he could at the moment, not with the grip Meryl's got in his shirt and the almost bruising clutch Vash is using.

Meryl sobs herself out, Vash close behind. Nick shakily holds on to both of them, bewildered.

“You can't do this to me – to us,” Meryl croaks when she thinks she can talk a little bit without bursting into another round of tears. “You could die and I can't lose you too.” Her voice cracks on her words and Meryl clings into Nick's chest again.

Vash pets Nick's cheek with his flesh and bone hand, thumb going through tear tracks and giving Nick a watery smile. “I can't lose you either,” he says. “Please. Don't make me lose you too.” He buries his face in Nick's throat.

Nick makes a noise at both of them. “'m sorry,” he rasps. “Didn't mean to scare you.” He doesn't say it won't happen again. Meryl knows it might.

He didn't promise her this after that time when they were without Vash, either. As long as people he cares about could be in trouble, Meryl knows Nick will do whatever he has to to keep them safe.

She just hopes it doesn't kill him in the process.

#trigun #mashwoodweek #mashwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #not sure what else i need to tag #babies are having A Time #like all the major warnings i was worried about are at the top of the post and there's more details in the replies #-shrug-#idk if im missing something tell me i guess #vash the stampede #forgot that tag apparently aaahhh #myde writes

42 notes · View notes

hundredsspoons · 1 year

Text

Ok that last post made me think about Trigun characters and Animal Crossing

Knives would have a perfectly curated town. Of course the museum is complete. He has every type of flower, but they're all sectioned off so the colors don't clash. He practices Villager Discrimination against ugly villagers. Bought Raymond on ebay. Surprisingly fond of Isabelle. Will time travel whenever he wants, for whatever reason he wants.

Lagato doesn't actually care about AC. He has a town for the sole purpose of getting fruit/items/etc. for Knives. When Knives got upset that he wasn't putting effort into his town, he decided to put an hour aside each day to properly decorate it like it's a part-time job. Still can't remember any of his villagers' names. Made his avatar have blue hair like him.

Vash has a super cute town. Doesn't usually let villagers move out because he loves them all. Sometimes he makes headcanons about villagers that they want to travel, and then he'll let them go so he's not "holding them back." Always attends KK's concerts. Cried a little at the first one. Not against time travel, but not motivated enough to use it usually. Will use it if he forgets a villager's birthday though. Always receiving stuff from Knives's town. Knives once attempted to force him to re-terraform his entire island because he didn't like it. This resulted in a serious fight. Always makes sure his character is gucci'd down to the socks.

Wolfwood says he only plays AC because the kids at the orphanage pester him to (but you know he finds it calming). He makes the goth, halloween-themed town with the edgy fake corpses in the basement. Never bothered to get all the flower types. Vash helped him get all the fruits though. Gets super pissed off when Redd sells him fake art. Uses a guide because convenience is king. Doesn't bother with time travel, too much effort. He plays pretty normally by himself, but when he goes to the kids' towns, he makes sure to trample all the flowers and hit all the townspeople with his net. If the kid starts crying though, he does his best to fix it; he doesn't actually like hurting their feelings. He never uses medicine to fix his face after getting attacked by bees.

Meryl was the first person to complete the main island "quest." She doesn't get why people time travel: doesn't that take away from the feeling of accomplishment when you complete it the good old-fashioned way? Did time travel once when she missed her favorite villager's birthday though. All her buildings are very sensibly located. Reloaded her island choices until she got the color of the airport she wanted and a layout with the town hall near the center. Terrified of tarantulas. The first time she got Tarantula Island, she accidentally closed the game without saving. Always has a cute, custom-designed outfit on.

Milly doesn't actually play AC very much. She time travels as she pleases, and as a result, her entire island has turned into an overgrown meadow. It gives Meryl and Isabella a heart attack. Brings gifts whenever she goes to her friends' islands. When she goes to Wolfwood's or vice versa, they spend the entire time hitting villagers. You know she's rocking that ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) face and the froggy outfit. Tarantula hunter supreme.

Roberto does not have a switch. Milly, his niece, begged him to try out her AC once though. He cut down trees until the bees came for him. He doesn't understand the appeal of this game.

#trigun #trigun stampede #animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #this is all accurate the charavters came to me in a vision and told me

66 notes · View notes

scoundrels-in-love · 11 months

Note

Seeing an object and thinking of them + VashMeryl

Hi love, thank you so much for prompting and your continious support!

Also on AO3.

It's been a year, but every bit of red in the crowd still makes Meryl want to chase it down. She knows better than to act on it, but her eyes always follow it nonetheless, the surge of hope crashing violently into reality when it is not Vash. It can't be him, she knows. He'd have no reason to be here, even if he were alive. (He is, she corrects herself, more and more stubbornly with every passing month.)

The red haunts her dreams, too. Red coat in vast darkness that she can never reach. He walks too fast, then runs and finally - flies. Until the shadows explode and consume him and then her. After those dreams, Meryl stays after hours at Bernadelli's, digging through bare bone scraps of information until she feels like crying or screaming, or she lets the stream of people take her somewhere, anywhere until she is washed up to some street with tiny stores and tinier, packed restaurants that will never make it to a newspaper’s ad section, but the food will outshine any five star place.

These are the places where she ends up indulging her red longing. One time it is a hair pin with dainty red flowers much like the ones Vash loves. The soft sound the blossoms make brushing against each other brings music to her step.

Month later, an auntie convinces her to try on a red lipstick that would not have left a smudge on his coat, that's how perfect the color match is in her mind's eye.

Meryl looks unfamiliar and mature with it and she kind of likes it. Enough to buy it, though there is nowhere and no one to wear it for. She wonders if Vash would like the shade on her, if he'd say it suits her and his gaze would linger on her lips just a moment longer in a way that'd tie a warm, tingly knot in her chest. Knows he wouldn't. She wasn't - isn't - his type, if he has any at all. She is a friend at best, a nuisance at worst.

(She'd been bait, the reason he'd come to JuLai and yet, Meryl knows he'd have done it for anyone at all. And yet, it haunts her - that she'd been that random pebble thrown to start a rock slide.)

Those are purchases that Meryl can excuse, though. It is when she buys a red coat, far too large for herself, and lays it down on her bed that she breaks. She misses him and she is clinging to red like it's a thread that could bring him back to her by sheer wanting. She has to stop, but she can't, she has never known how to give up, because that's been like losing herself. And so she keeps the coat and on the worst nights, hugs it to her chest or drapes it over herself when she curls up in her bed and pretends it's Vash's. It's a bittersweet, layered cake of lies that she serves to herself again and again.

On the hollow days, when she feels all too alone, Meryl buys other things too - an assortment of lollipops in a colorful packaging, a pack of cigarettes that Roberto liked and another of a better brand than the cheap shit Wolfwood would usually smoke. Some day she'll leave them at the makeshift grave marker they made for her mentor, a little sign for the undertaker that she remembers and is waiting for him when his self-exile is over. Two heads are better than one, she knows he will realize it with time.

It's almost frightening how quickly things become a routine, that this is just their usual general store run now after half a year, though the far longer cultivated awareness and tension has not dulled.

It is what makes Vash freeze mid-step when the blue catches his eye. It's such a deep, vivid shade that his heart does a pirouette before he realizes it's nothing less or more than a bottle of nail polish among other brand new, sparkling colors set on display. Still, he splits from Lina and goes over to inspect it, marveling at the pearly shimmer in the sunlight before the price tag makes him set it down with a sigh.

It seems that most people in the town share the sentiment, because it waits for him there the next time they come to town and the next and the one after, too. Vash always stops to appreciate it with a wistful smile, thinking about the woman that this would suit perfectly. Until one time, it's gone from display and he hopes his disappointment isn't too apparent.

Two weeks later, Lina and her grandmother surprise him with a small feast, announcing it's his 'birthday'. The day he'd woken up in their care, blissfully foggy and a mere shard of himself. It's nothing like the birthday he thinks of when he hears the word (a cake and red recording light and laughter of a family), but it's sweet and warm nonetheless. And when the evening is nearing bedtime, Lina pulls out a tiny bottle in an achingly familiar blue shade, a wide smile on her face.

"I saw you always looking at it. So I thought we could paint your nails, so you have somethin' nice every day."

He is moved to tears and doesn't even hide it.

When she is gently, carefully applying deep blue strokes of paint to his short, in some places cracked fingernails, Lina muses it must be his favorite color, since he's always drawn to it and he neither denies or confirms it. He's cut red out of his life, both to distance himself from the person he used to be and for feeling like he's failed the one who taught him to love it. But blue… blue he can indulge in when he finds it.

The nail polish is called Serenity Blue and Vash thinks it couldn't be further and closer to the truth all at once, because so very little about Meryl herself had been calm. She was always in motion, her fingers tapping on the steering wheel or along the edge of her notebook, foot drawing lines in the sand absentmindedly when she leaned against the car waiting for them. Even in her sleep she would shift often, as if existence itself wasn't comfortable for her.

And yet, Meryl poured peace into him, gently and thoroughly, in the evenings when she'd sit down next to him and let him talk about nothing and everything. Stars, ghost stories he'd picked up over the decades, music they both liked. And in the silence, too, when her shoulder brushed against his and she tilted her head back to watch the sky, firelight dancing across her features like a performance he could watch for ages.

Her genuine interest pulled more honesty out of him than anyone else had in years, at least about the little-big things that have nothing to do with blood and death and loss other than in the intrinsic, human way people weave it in their art and always have. And in that, too, Vash had found serenity that only she brought.

He misses it, misses her. Feels selfish for it. Meryl is far away and safer for it and he's already put her through hell. And she'd marched through it, just so she could pull him out of his. This borrowed, fragile peace with all its sharp edges he's having here, with Lina and Sheryl, is her gift to him, too.

Lina always offers to paint his nails when the color eventually chips away and he regretfully watches the bottle slowly empty. When there is no more left, he puts it away in his drawer, next to a notebook with a cover in the bluest shade he could find. It's not deep enough, but it makes him smile a little each time he sees it nonetheless. He fills it with articles that she's written, with shorthand notes about his life here and sometimes memories about her, Wolfwood, Roberto that come to him suddenly and he's afraid to lose to time.

He should let them go, but he can't, not yet. Can't stop looking for something blue in every shipment to the general store, can't stop from brushing fingers over a pack of cigarettes in his pants pocket, though he never lights one. And wakes up the happiest in the mornings when his dreams have been blue.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vashmeryl #rainy writes stuff #my fic #lovely people

25 notes · View notes

trigunbookclub · 11 months

Note

i'm a little late to join the party, so i'm doing my best to catch up! but i was taking a look at the schedule, and i see that it's sepearated into volumes. would you happen to know the schedule by chapters?

Hello! Not too late at all--anyone's welcome to join at any time! I had to dig a bit, but they have the chapters listed on Wikipedia! I'll copy and paste here in case it helps someone navigate it easier, but I'm throwing it under a cut because it'll be long. I also recommend checking out @trigun-manga-overhaul for the most accurate translations, and it's all separated by volume there :D (I've been reading their browser version since it's easiest for me to take screenshots) Okay, chapter masterlist:

Trigun 1

00.High Noon

01.The $$60 Billion Double Dollar Man

02.Looney Tunes

03.Hard Puncher

04.Popo

05.Assault

06.Die Hards

07.Rem

08.Duelist

09.Then, Between The Wasteland and Sky

10.Little Arcadia

11.Son

12.River of Life

Trigun 2

13.Blood and Thunder

14.Diablo

15.Fragile

16.Scars

17.Slaughter Cafe

18.Gathering of the Devils

19.Eye of Invisibility

20.Fifth Moon

Extra: Day In Day Out

Extra: Trigun Pilot

Trimax 1

01. "Hero Reborn"

02. "Lina" (リィナ, Rina)

03. "Bravo, Girls!" (ガールズ・ブラボー！, Gāruzu Burabō)

04. "Hero Returns"

05. "Dancing Revolver"

06. "Sin" (罪, Tsumi)

Trimax 2

07. "Return of the Blue Wing of Death" (死を運ぶ蒼き風再び, Shi o Hakobu Aokikaze Futatabi)

08. "Resume our Business"

09. "Samurai Showdown" (サムライショウダウン, Samurai Shoudaun)

10. "Wolfwood" (ウルフウッド, Urufuddo)

11. "Desperado"

12. "Home Sweet Home" (ホーム・スィート・ホーム, Hōmu Su~īto Hōmu)

13. "Darkness" (暗闇, Kurayami)

Trimax 3

14. "Reservoir Dogs" (レザボア・ドッグス, Rezaboa Doggusu)

15. "Cement" (セメント, Semento)

16. "No Escape"

17. "Emilio the Player" (エミリオ・ザ・プレイヤー, Emiro za Pureiyā)

18. "Long Goodbye"

19. "Families" (ファミリーズ)

20. "His Life as a..."

Trimax 4

21. "Countdown"

22. "Bluesy Killer Horn" (ブルージィキラーホーン, Burūji~i Kirā Hōn)

23. "Bottom of the Dark"

24. "Den of Thieves" (魔窟, Makutsu)

25. "Crying Wild Bullet" (クライングウイルドブリッド, Kuraingu Uirudo Buriddo)

26. "Those Who Stood Idly By" (かたわらにたたずむものたち, Katawarani Tatazumu Monotachi)

27. "Doomed Sinner" (絶望の罪人, Zetsubou no Zainin)

Trimax 5

28. "The City And Then The Banquet of Dogs" (街そして犬共の宴, Machi Soshite Inudomo no Utage)

29. "Breakout" (ブレイクアウト, Bureikuauto)

30. "Loss" (喪失, Sōshitsu)

31. "Villain" (凶人, Kyoujin)

32. "Death Deal" (デスディール, Desu Dīru)

33. "Let Us Walk the Path to Redemption" (せめて歩ませよ我が購いの道を, Semete Ayumaseyo Waga Aganai no Michi o)

Trimax 6

34. "The Gunslinger" (ザ·ガンスリンガー, Za Gansuringā)

35. "double team"

36. "Cross X Assassins" (クロスXアサシンズ, Kurosu X Asashinzu)

37. "Death Omen" (死兆, Shichō)

38. "Colorless Expression" (色無き相貌, Ironaki Sōbō)

39. "Seeds Voyaging to the Stars, A World Inside a Pod" (星を往く種子莢の中の世界, Hoshi o Yuku Shushi Saya no Naka no Sekai)

Trimax 7

40. "happy days."

41. "Separate Ways" (セパレイトウェイズ, Separeito Uizu)

42. "The King of Loneliness" (孤独の王, Kodoku no Ō)

43. "Good For Nothing and the Blues" (ろくでなしとブルース, Rokudenashi to Burūsu)

44. "When They Arrived, It Was Already the Beginning of the End" (辿り着けばそこはすでに終わりの始まり, Tadoritsukeba Sokowa Sudeni Owari no Hajimari)

45. "Conflict" (コンフリクト, Konfurikuto)

Trimax 8

46. "Invasion" (侵攻, Shinkou)

47. Silent Ruin

48. "Counter-Attack!! (カウンターアタック！！, Kauntā Atakku)

49. "Escape (脱出, Dasshutsu)

50. "Separate Paths (それぞれの道, Sorezore no Michi)

51. Wolfwood Spin Off - Freed Bird ([外伝] FREED BIRD, [Gaiden] Freed Bird)

Trimax 9

52. Home

53. Gale

54. LR

55. Battle to the Death

56. Prostrate Demon

57. Fortitude

Trimax 10

58. Reckless Conduct

59. Sworn Friend

60. Sudden Change

61. Death Omen

62. Final Battle

63. Homecoming

64. Wolfwood

65. Final Farewell

Trimax 11

66. Zero Hour

67. Slap Sticks Days

68. Thunderstruck

69. Return of the Wicked

70. Get Ready, Get Set

71. Someone to Defend

Trimax 12

72. The Journey Ends - But Heavy Breathing Still Echoes

73. Corrosive Thunder

74. The Interceptor

75. The Gunslinger

76. + - 0

77. resonance

78. Run Livio Run

79. Lantern

80. Their Own World

Trimax 13

81. False Doppleganger

82. Double Duel

83. Demon Fire

84. Black

85. Battle of the Mystics

86. Tag in a Person

87. catch-as-catch-can

88. Apex Wings (尖翼)

89. VS

Trimax 14

90. When Conflict Comes to An End (相克果つる刻, Sōkoku hatsuru toki)

91. overkill

92. Side by Side (サイド・バイ・サイド)

93. Never give up! Never surrender!

94. Ticket to the Future (未来への切符, Mirai e no kippu)

95. Mind Games

96. Double Wings (双翼, Sōyoku)

97. Never Ending Song

#Trigun #TrigunBookclub #That took longer than I expected lol #But there! :D #Ask

15 notes · View notes

bloodlessdebuf · 10 months

Note

vashwood 3, 9, 11, 14, 16, 18, 19, 20 for the ask game😳

3 - difficult to answer bc at their cores they are both dogs, separated only by what they chase. but wolfwood puts vash on too high a pedestal to ever see vash as the dog, so wolfwood by technicality

9 - he wanted it. he wanted it if only bc he knew it was judas, really, that was delivering it. theres no pride to be had in these intimate moments of knives through the back but cheeks still cupped in calloused palms. theres only the knowing of caesar locking eyes and thinking, of course it was you, brutus

11 - they did, but only twice. the first time could barely be called a kiss, more so a smashing together of lips, a mimicry of intimacy bc to kiss like they mean it would be admitting to things that can never step further than their ribs. the second time wasnt much more of one. after all, can it really be called a kiss when its just trembling lips pressed to a face gone stiff and cold, one last offering of warmth before its forever covered by dirt?

14 - it is wolfwood, gnashing of teeth and snarling of lips, as if putting up the front of evil for long enough will ever make it sink deeper than skin, will make it somehow real

16 - it is vash, unused to being chased like this, unused to being known like this, snapping quick and sudden but deep, as if a storm chaser will suddenly now be scared off by the danger

18 - it is vash, proving wolfwood wrong simply by letting wolfwood hold him, holding wolfwoods hands where they hold him and whispering "see? youre not hurting me. im ok. were ok"

19 - it is wolfwood, staying right next to vash even as he is chased out of towns, holding his hand as they run, sharing motel beds, showing with pure physicality "im not going anywhere. you cant outrun me, and you cant hurt me. in not going anywhere"

20 - wolfwood buys vash flowers, but he goes off vibes alone while vash actually knows flower language. it results in wolfwood buying him things like yellow carnations and then being totally confused when vash spends like an hour crying to meryl abt it

#trigun #hi can u. tell this got away from me good god.#im. so sick rn and i always get melodramatic when im sick so DHBFJSND #this was really fucking fun tho maybe ill start accepting vashwood prompts. maybe.

9 notes · View notes

idnek83 · 11 months

Text

Service With a Smile 3/?

Fandom: Trigun

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

Pairing: Vash/Wolfwood

Tags: Coffee shop au, Vash owns a cafe, Wolfwood is a mystery man, Trans Vash, Getting together, Fluff, Slow burn, Eventual smut, Recreational drug use, Drinking, Vash is self conscious about his scars, afab language

Summary: Vash works at a little coffee shop known as Seeds Cafe, and likes to make his days more interesting by trying to make each of his customers smile or laugh at least once before they leave. He has a 100% success rate... That is, until one day a moody man with a taste for cigarettes and black coffee shows up...

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Read on Ao3

_____________________

It’s about 30 minute before close and Vash keeps glancing at the door between cleaning glasses. Logically he knows that just because Mr. Grumpy came in around this time yesterday, it doesn’t mean he’ll be back, but he can’t seem to stop himself from looking up at every little noise, hoping to see the man’s scowl coming through his door.

The minutes pass by agonizingly slow, but the door remains closed.

When 8 o’clock rolls around without anyone coming in, Vash lets out a disappointed sigh and flips over Seeds’ open sign.

Vash flops face first onto his bed, ignoring the way the bed frame groans and creaks in protest.

Even if he spent most of the day doing nothing, working 14 hour shifts at his cafe still takes a lot out of him, and he’s always more than content to immediately pass out as soon as he gets home.

As if to spite him, his phone vibrates.

He grumbles and shifts enough to grab it from where he’d tossed it on his side table. When the screen lights up he’s hit with a wave of conflicting emotions.

He has a text from his brother, Nai.

He considers ignoring it. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk with his brother, it’s more that their relationship is... complicated, and he isn’t sure if he can handle all the heavy emotions that generally come along with their conversations right now.

Despite himself, he unlocks his phone to see what Nai sent him.

Hope you're well. I’m departing for Stockholm soon.

Vash vaguely recalls Nai mentioning something about an upcoming conference in Stockholm last time they spoke on the phone, but for the life of him can’t recall what it was for.

Nai’s job has always confused Vash, but he could best be described as... an entrepreneur? Or maybe a business tycoon? From what Vash understands he basically owns a lot of business and makes money by... giving them money and then taking a cut of the profits later?

At first he had been worried his brother was some kind of loan shark, but after a lengthy explanation, during which Vash nodded a lot and understood very little, his brother had assured him that was not the case.

And Vash is mostly sure he can trust him.

He isn’t really in a place to question him at the very least, considering Nai is the only reason Vash was able to open Seeds in the first place.

Vash sighs. Just send Nai something light and move on. If he’s getting on a plane soon he wont have time to inquire into every facet of Vash’s life and inevitably (if accidentally) make him feel awful about himself anyways.

I’m good! Have fun in Stockholm! : )

Vash waits, part of him hoping he took too long and Nai is already on the plane, while the rest of him feels guilty for hoping that.

This is a business trip. Not a vacation.

Vash feels his stomach sink. Right. Business. No fun allowed. Vash should know better. He tries to think of an appropriate response but his phone vibrates again before he comes up with anything.

But I suppose I can try.

It makes him smile, but then for some reason his throat gets tight and he suddenly fells like he’s going to cry. He types up a quick response before his vision blurs too heavily.

Yay! :D

He rolls onto his back and lets a few tears roll down his cheeks. He hates that he’s like this. He hates that he isn’t a better brother. Nai does so much for him and yet Vash can barely manage to even talk to him without having some kind of emotional breakdown.

Nai just makes him feel... too much. He’s thankful, and he loves him, and he misses him, but he’s also angry, and jealous, and knows he’s not worthy of being the twin of someone so completely perfect. He’s ashamed. He wishes Nai was ashamed of him too. Nai gave up so much for him and all Vash has to show for it is a tiny apartment and a cafe that’s just barely staying afloat.

He hates relying on Nai any more than he absolutely needs to. It’s why he works so much at Seeds. Why he’s only hired 2 part-time employees, even though it means he works 70 hours a week.

Vash closes his eyes and encourages his thoughts to stray away from his brother and his guilt.

They land on his part-timers.

Meryl and Milly are both wonderful. He had hired Meryl first, she was a regular who would often come to Seeds to study or work on homework, and Vash had always enjoyed her visits. Then one day she had offhandedly mentioned looking for part-time work, and Vash decided pretty much that instant that he wouldn’t mind a little extra help during mornings and weekends.

A few weeks after hiring Meryl, she asked if Vash would consider hiring someone else as well, insisting he worked way too much and that he looked so tired most days that Meryl was certain it was only a matter of time before he accidentally poured scalding hot coffee on someone's face. Vash had relented, saying he could probably afford to hire another part-timer to cover the mornings Meryl couldn’t work, but Meryl insisted he have them work weekends too, so that Vash could actually have days off. He had been opposed to it at first, he already felt bad about taking Meryl’s weekends away from her, but Meryl had argued that no one would take a job that only offered a handful of morning hours, so Vash eventually agreed to give up his weekend shifts.

He had left hiring to her, saying he didn’t have the money to advertise an opening, and he’d be happy to just hire one of her friends if she knew anyone looking for work.

Two days later, she brought in a girl nearly as tall as Vash, and just as broad.

Milly is an absolute delight, Vash has never met someone so polite who also managed to have a great sense of humour and take absolutely no shit from anyone who even thinks about being rude around her.

Apparently Meryl had met her at an orientation event for their college, and when Meryl had mentioned not being able to see the stage, Milly had simply scooped he up and put her on her shoulders. After that they got to talking, realized they were both majoring in journalism, and had been inseparable ever since.

Vash had immediately taken a liking to Milly, and welcomed her to Seeds with open arms.

Still though, the first Saturday the girls had worked on their own, Vash came in 3 separate times before they banned him from visiting his own store on weekends. Milly literally carried him out, lifting him up under his arms like a child and placing him outside, before scolding him for not taking time for himself.

It had been months since then, and he still never really knew what to do with his weekends.

Mostly he sat around his apartment, slept, and occasionally got high. He didn’t really have the money to be going out to bars every weekend so...

When was the last time he’d gone out? It had to have been more than a month ago... maybe two?

His thoughts flicker back to the image of Mr. Grumpy, clothes rumpled, obviously exhausted, smelling of booze, and likely on his way back from a one night stand.

God. When was the last time he’d slept with somebody?

Vash starts counting backwards, but gives up when he realizes it’s been longer than he wants to admit.

It’s not that he has trouble finding partners on the rare occasions he does go out. He knows he has a pretty face and a body that easily catches people’s eyes on the dance floor, and he isn’t against using that to his advantage.

No, the problem usually comes after the bar, when the clothes start coming off and his partners get a look at the mess of scar tissue that makes up his body.

That was usually the point people started conveniently deciding they were too tired for a hookup, or remembered they had to work early the next morning, so would he mind leaving actually?

The last time he had actually gotten laid, the guy had insisted he only ever fucked in complete darkness, and had not just turned off the lights, but made sure to close the blinds to stop any light from coming in.

He’d conveniently brought this up right after Vash took off his shirt.

Vash can’t really hold it against anyone though. He knows what he looks like.

Sometimes he can’t even bare to look at himself...

Vash heaves a deep sigh, rubs his face and tries to shake himself out of his pity party.

Even if he doesn’t go home with anybody, the idea of just going out to dance still sounds like it could be fun. He’s been cooped up in his apartment and at work for too long, and as long as he has a few drinks at home first, a night out shouldn’t set him back too much.

He remembers hearing about a new bar opening up not too far away. One of the employees had come in and asked if they could put a flyer up on his shop’s bulletin board last week, and he thinks it’s probably still there. He'll have to take a look tomorrow. He hadn’t paid that much attention to it at the time, but he’s pretty sure he saw a rainbow flag on the flyer, which was good news if he does end up finding someone to... maybe not sleep with, he doesn’t think he can deal with another rejection right now, but maybe just make out with? Get a little handsy with?

Either way, if it’s a gay bar that means his pool of potential partners isn’t limited to just women, and at the moment he’s kind of craving someone big, and broad, maybe with dark hair, a bit of stubble, big hands, nice pecs...

Vash falls asleep to thoughts of drinking and dancing, the scent of cigarettes lingering somewhere in the back of his mind.

<< Previous Chapter || Next Chapter >>

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun #fic #My writing #Fic SWaS

9 notes · View notes