#vash the stampede x y/n
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Stretchmarks
Summary: Vash learns about those little markings he's seen on his lover, and oh God does he fall head over heels.
Authors Note: This is written with Tristamp! Vash in mind, and this idea was sparked by this post :) This is written as a fem! reader. I hope you all enjoy! (Also, here's your tag @blackkiwi! I hope you like it :) I went in a bit of a different direction so I might revisit this idea in the future!!)
Warnings: Mild nudity, sexual themes, self-hate.
Vash didn’t understand it—how could someone so beautiful, holding something so unique and precious, hate themselves and their markings? He felt bad for staring, he really did, but the damp air from the shower seemed to settle around her, water droplets becoming stars and her eyes morphing in a galaxy of possibilities. She, though, didn’t seem to understand his awe. All she saw was the man she loved staring at a part of her she didn’t hate, per se, but rather didn’t love completely. He knew he should’ve looked away, apologized and let her know that he was stunned with adoration, not disgust. Yet he didn’t. Like the fool he was, and always will be, he didn’t have the bravery to confess.
“Ah, sorry,” with a nervous grin she had tried to cover her hips, where the most prominent of her stretch marks were. “I didn’t know you were coming back so soon.” She grabbed her things and shuffled back into the bathroom, wearing only her underwear and a towel loosely draped over her shoulder, “I was just getting my clothes.” With a quiet click, the bathroom door shut and the room was plunged into a somber darkness.
Idiot, he bit at himself, why did you just stare? The patterns though, those curlings lines and loveable little dots and spots, it reminded him of himself; when he looked in the mirror and saw his face staring back, covered in blue lines that marked him as alien, foreign. Was she. . . like him? He turned to look at the bathroom door, listening to the quiet rustling within. No, he thought, she’s human. But there was something so remarkable about those lines, he couldn’t stop thinking.
Like me, she’s like me.
Later they sat in their shared room, the silence acting as a tyrant, holding its grip tight and solid over the melancholic atmosphere. Neither one had spoken since she had retreated to the bathroom an hour earlier; she being silent out of fear and embarrassment, and he out of nervousness and curiosity.
After finishing getting ready for the night, she laid in her bed across the room. Vash, on the other hand, was sitting criss-crossed in his, staring at his fumbling hands.
“You know,” he said, cringing at the abruptness of his voice, “I think you’re really pretty.”
She shuffled slightly in bed, blankets falling off her shoulders, “thank you, I appreciate it. You’re pretty as well.”
He blushed at the compliment—thump, thump, thump, beat his heart. It roared at him to confess, to open his mouth and say everything he wanted too. He didn’t. He fiddled with his hands and lightly tapped his cheek to cool the scorching redness that had overtaken him. “Earlier,” his voice was quiet, a pip-squeak of a noise, “I didn’t mean to stare.”
“It’s okay.”
He started to disengage his prosthetic arm, small clicks and whirs making the silence seem louder than before. “I—” he gently set his arm on the ground beside his bed, rubbing the raw and sore flesh. He didn’t often sleep without his arm, for a fear of being attacked in the middle of the night, but his body couldn’t handle it much longer. It pulled and gnawed on his shoulders, making his entire body ache with a pain he can only describe as deafening. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, but if I did, I apologize.”
She finally turned over, watching as he hopelessly stared at her with a twinge of fear and. . . something else she couldn’t describe. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she smiled softly, “I was jus’ thinking.” She could never be mad at him—not that she was mad at him in the first place, in fact, she had only felt mild embarrassment towards the whole situation. The day had been long, and even if he hadn’t caught her getting out of the shower, she would’ve been quiet and exhausted—, and looking at him now only made her feel like she was gazing at a kicked puppy.
He tilted his head, “about what?”
“My body,” she huffed and sat up, “you know those days?’ Her voice was a little quiet, less teasing than it usually was, and so, painfully somber.
He understood. Sometimes he’d sit out in the desert, watch the sunset and wonder why he felt so unnatural; as if he wasn’t a person, but a thing occupying space in a body that didn’t belong to him. And sometimes he’d cover up mirrors with his coat, afraid to look into them and see what he really looked like. And other times he’d look down at himself and shove back the tears because he was a mural of pain and he wouldn’t have it any other way but God, did he wish there were other options. And sometimes he’d simply lay in bed and think about everything he hated about himself, starting with his personality and then moving on to his actions, and then he’d think about his body and then he really felt the pain because he belonged to this prison of flesh and bone, this sacred thing, and he had managed to decimate it in so many ways it would never be able to recover. And, sometimes, he hated how he looked because she deserved better. And sometimes he, without any reason really, despised the man he was, and the way he looked. So, yes, he understood those days. He understood better than anyone really; and it made his heart hurt thinking she had felt the same way.
In his eyes she was the most beautiful thing. She rivaled the stars, the ones he watched on that ship all those years ago. The greenery of flora and the nature of Earth couldn’t even compare. And even if some Goddess was to descend from the heavens, bearing all her glory and luxury at her bosom, he would deny it and find himself back in her arms. In his eyes, she was worth everything and more.
He stumbled over to her bed, momentarily forgetting himself as he slammed into the mattress with an abundant lack of grace and caution. “I get it, I do,”
She blinked at him.
“Somedays I–I hate myself and sometimes I can’t even look in the mirror, and really almost everyday I can’t even look at myself,” he forgot he had taken his prosthetic off, trying to grab her face with his hand. He paused and cursed a little under his breath, stub awkwardly hanging between them. “I forgot I took that—okay whatever,” he used his other hand to grab her face, fingers tracing her jaw, “but you know what makes me feel better about myself?”
She huffed a little and laughed, crossing her arms. “What?” she asked playfully.
“You.”
She smiled softly, “I’m glad I can help.” A little sliver of anxiety still rested in her eyes.
He took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. “Yeah, so, let me help you this time,” he sat back on his knees, suddenly realizing how close he was. “If–if that’s okay. . .?” All his confidence, his burning determination to help, dissipated into the air and floundered about his mind in a wave of unease and mild embarrassment.
She glanced down at herself, thumbing the edge of her shirt before nodding, “alright,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “you’ve convinced me.” She gave a nervous smile, one unsure of what was going to happen but trustful in the one before her—she had no doubts that he would keep her safe, happy, and comfortable.
He let out a goofy grin, slowly pushing her back onto the bed, “okay so um,” he stared down at her, blushing a delicious red as he slowly came to understand what position they were in. Her arms were slightly settled to the side, hands above her head and chest slowly rising with each suspenseful breath. Utterly divine, was the only description he could think of. “Uh, could you. . uh, take your shirt off, maybe?” He wanted to cry when he realized his voice had cracked—uncool, so uncool.
She laughed, “alright, what are you really trying to do?” She grabbed the ends of her shirt and whisked it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of them really cared where it landed.
He waved his hand in the air and panicked, “no! No! I promise I’m not trying to do anything like that unless you want that—or, I mean, not right now! Uh, sorry!” His hands slapped over his face, covering the vague blue markings that had begun to peak through his skin.
She let out a boisterous laugh and grabbed his hips, lovingly drawing circles into his skin, “calm down, I was joking, pretty boy.”
The tips of his ears turned red, nearly drowning out his wonderful, brilliant blue, “pretty boy,” he mumbled. “Where’d that come from?” he squeaked out.
“Jus’ tellin’ the truth,” she hummed, “now, why is my shirt off?”
“Oh!” his hands flew off his face and came to settle on her torso, nervously pressing into her skin. “I wanna—well, can I see your markings?” he leaned a little closer, tempted to put his forehead to hers, but he was too scared—what if she knows what that means? What if she hates doing that? What if she hates me?
“Markings?” she raised an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”
“On your hips.”
“Hips?”
He gently hooked the edge of her pants, looking up at her for permission and when she gave it, he pulled them down slightly, revealing the little lines he had been so obsessed with earlier. Despite everything in him trying to keep his smile back, he couldn’t. “These,” he mumbled, tracing the marks with his fingers. His markings, no longer dull and scared, flowed to the surface of his skin and danced along his fingers. “They’re really pretty.” He wanted to see them in their entirety, observe how they rested along her skin and how they intertwined with one another—that would require less. . . clothing, and the thought made him blush madly, making his markings blink a bright blue for a moment.
She grabbed his hand and gave him a questioning look, “they’re not markings, they’re stretchmarks.”
He tilted his head.
“It’s like. . . little scars from when our skin stretches or shrinks too fast,” she smiled somberly, “they’re not as precious as your markings.”
He huffed and went back to caressing her skin, “I still think they’re amazing.”
“Not many people do,” she closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his touch, “so I appreciate it. Thank you.”
He hesitated and pulled his hands back, “do you. . . do you have more?”
She hummed.
“Can I see them? If that’s okay with you?!”
She sighed and opened her eyes, “you love them that much?” A slight bit of hesitance, disbelief.
A child-like joy seeped into his voice, “yes! They’re like mine, but they’re so much prettier.”
She blinked, a small embarrassed expression coming to rest upon her face. “I mean, if you really want, I can show you.”
He grinned excitedly and sat patiently on the bed as his lover slowly shimmed out of her pants, leaving them hidden by only two, thin articles of clothing that covered barely anything (not that he minded, but he was trying his hardest to focus on the markings solely—he didn’t want to be a creep. He was also trying to ignore the fact that this was only the third time he had seen her so vulnerable before. It made his heart soar, thinking that she trusted him so). After a moment, she returned back to bed and presented her thighs, where stretch marks were painted across her skin like a mural of heaven. “Here’s some more. They’re mostly on my legs and hips.”
“Oh,” he breathed out, “they’re a lot prettier up close.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead to her legs, closing his eyes. For a moment, he could’ve sworn he felt her very soul, as if he was connecting to a plant, and he shuddered out a sigh. “So, so, pretty.” He was lost in her now, gently tracing his fingers along her skin, nose buried into the side of her leg and he cherished every giggle and breathy laugh that came from his lover.
“I never knew you’d like ‘em so much,” she tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly when he got a little too dazed and trailed his head up further than he should’ve.
He kissed the inside of her thigh, “they’re so. . . you’re so beautiful.”
She smiled softly, “you are too.”
The compliment flew over his head, focused solely on the Goddess before him. The divinity that had graced his presence. He sloppily kissed her thigh again, trailing his love up and up and—
She tugged on his hair, “hey,” she warned, “you’re getting a little too close there, pretty boy.”
He stared up and blinked, chin settled in between her legs and nose dangerously close to the bottom of her underwear. It took a moment for him to come back to reality, realizing that he was in a position he’d only dreamed about. “Oh,” he blinked again. “I’m sorry!” he shot up and rested back on his knees. With her hand still in his hair, he was slightly bowed forward, eyes deliciously plastered to her legs.
“Don’t apologize,” she whispered, “you’re fine.”
He whined a little, “I made you uncomforta—”
“When did I say that?”
He peered up at her through his eyelashes, watching her coy smirk expand into a sly smile. He stumbled over his words and quickly decided it would be better to shut up. What’s happening? Wasn’t she supposed to be yelling at him? Ashamed he had given into his desires a little too much? This was supposed to be about her, and how wonderful she was. Not him and his inability to hide his lustful curiosity.
“In fact,” she tugged on his hair a little more, forcing him to crawl halfway on top of her to stop the dull pain in his scalp—he really didn’t mind it though, which made him rethink some things about himself. “I really enjoyed it.”
His markings glowed so bright, she had to look away for a moment. She snickered and brought one hand to his chin, the other leaving his hair and slowly trailing down his chest. “If I’m being honest,” she sighed, “I didn’t really like my stretch marks. They’re ugly and gross, but,” she stopped trailing her hand down when she got to the hem of his pants, “you made me feel better about them.” She smiled.
“I’m glad!” he nervously grinned and tried to adjust himself so the position would be less. . . intimate, but she didn’t let him. Part of him was begging her to do something, and the other part of him was screaming with fear and embarrassment so loudly he almost didn’t hear what she said next.
“So,” she drawled out, “if it’s okay with you, can I help you feel good?”
“What?” he squeaked. “Like–what? What does that mean?” Oh my god, he cried to himself, I’m an idiot! He beat down a whine that threatened to erupt from his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted the ground to swallow him up and never let him go.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself into him, hips bucking up and creating a delicious friction. He sucked in a strangled gasp and let his face fall into the crook of her neck, “sen–sensitive!” he cried. He gripped her waist, fumbling for a moment before once again realizing he had taken his prosthetic off. Vaguely he wondered if he should put it back on, but she bucked again and all thoughts fell out of his mouth as he cried.
“What do you say?” she purred, “up for a little fun?”
“You’re a,” he panted and ground his hips into her, muffling his moans in her flesh, “a tease.” He shouldn’t be doing this, should he? Should he have asked before he pressed himself into her, or was that normal? He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing here.
“C’mon pretty boy, I have to hear a yes,”
“Y–yes!” He whined and ignored the blue light that bathed them both—this is so embarrassing.
“Good boy.”
He squeaked and buried his face deeper into her neck, “oh my god.” This was going to be the death of him—not that he really minded.
#vash#vash stampede#vash trigun#trigun vash#vash the stampede#vash 98#tristamp#vash x reader#vash x you#vash x y/n#trigun x reader#trigun x you#trigun x y/n#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x y/n#trigun#Strawberry writes
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The Hickey on Your Neck
↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader
One-shot
Summary: Only seconds before closing your eyes do you realize that the dreams you had forgotten among the lust and thrust of your lover were the life you were destined to lead.
Or a story about how You and Vash fucked from dawn to dusk on his birthday.
Word count: +17.5 k.
Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Trigun au).
Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, established relationship, soft/dom Vash the Stampede, too much fluff and kissing, scar worship, plant patterns display, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie, fingering (with prosthetic arm), unprotected sex (c’mon! We want his seeds), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, two smut scenes (one romantic, other hardcore), aftercare, emotional trauma, violence, blood and gore, post-Trigun Stampede but no manga spoilers.
Notes: I'd never written a Trigun fic before, but with this Vash brain rot, I'm sure it won't be the last. I originally intended to name this fic "Sleepless Nightmare" after TOMBI song, but somehow changed my mind. You'll see why. "Elay" in my mother tongue means the Moon of a Tribe. A nick name Vash will use for reader.
By the way, you can also read the Disclaimers and Writer's Note at the end.
Song Recommendation: The Hickey on Your Neck Playlist
You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.
Back to master list.
07:30 pm – July 21st
A hole had been left in your heart. Throwing yourself backward, you tripped over your feet. Your head slammed into the floor as your arms did little to break your fall. It was a pain you'd never known, a pain you never thought you could feel, never would have even imagined. From the inside out, you were lit on fire by a bullet that went off in your chest.
All of a sudden, everything slowed down.
So this, you thought, was what dying felt like.
You blinked, and it seemed to take forever. The images before you were unfocused, with colors, bodies, and lights swaying in unison and stilted movements blurring. Your ears couldn't hear clearly. All the sounds were garbled, warped, and too high or low.
Who … she?
I asked for a tall, blond man with … eyes, and the folks pointed at her.
How come … shot her …?
She said … had never met such a man.
… idiot! What if she's with the gunman?
Whatever. … doesn't draw a gun anymore; rumor has it.
What a moron! The man may not kill, but … wiped out … whole city!
What … … we should … then?
If … … his girl, … … screwed up!
… the bounty! … get lost before the news …!
It was like all the words were banging into each other, colliding again, spinning around you. Your name seemed to be being called, but you couldn't hear it. Everything was muffled, slippery, and off-balance, like it was there, just out of reach, but you couldn't find it.
Heavy footsteps stomped, stomped, and stomped the ground, and a familiar face appeared before you. The shape, the golden and green colors drew your attention, and you tried raising your hand to feel his warmth once more and assure him that everything was okay, but it was too hard, and suddenly you couldn't breathe. Your throat felt like it was being slashed, holes punching into your lungs, and the more you blinked, the less clearly you could see. The tightest breaths, tiny little gasps, were soon all you could manage. Pain, pain, and more pain followed the dizziness and lightheaded feeling. It was terrible, never seeming to end.
Your sight suddenly went dim. Blindness overtook you.
Blood dripped from you rather than being seen as you blinked, blinked, and blinked in a desperate attempt to regain your vision, but all you saw was a cloud of white. A short frantic gasp and the pounding of your eardrums were all heard. Some warm sensation spread throughout your body as the fresh blood pooled under you.
You knew your life was about to evaporate, and it only made you think about how short you lived with him and how he would blame himself for your loss. Leaving your tears to fall, you whispered, "I-I'm sorry, Vash."
05:45 am - July 21st
A sharp intake of breath caused your eyes to fly open. Your skin froze in a cold sweat as your brain waded in waves of distress. Inhaling as much as possible was the only thing you could do. Your chest heaved, and your heart raced. You looked around, feeling the stillness within the madness, blinking hard against the white ceiling.
Your hands reached your throat and chest. No blood. No holes. You could feel your pulse. That must be the sound of your heart, at least, you hoped.
There was a strange feeling in your gut, like your instincts were stumbling through mud, and your bones were filled with stones. Your eyes shifted to the other side of the bed, and you sighed in relief. The reality sleeping next to you brought a moment of clarity. You sat up on your elbows, head spinning as you glanced at the nightstand.
The glass was empty.
You slowly pushed the sheets aside and felt more awake with your bare feet touching the cold floor. Picking up the glass, you tiptoed toward the murky kitchen.
You reached for the pitcher on the table, but the water never made it to your lips; instead, your trembling hands grabbed the faded and scratched edges of the cabinet as if letting go of this old piece of plywood would plunge you into the blackhole of your nightmare.
A muffled whimper escaped from the bottom of your throat, and you whispered, it was just a dream. Yet, your white knuckles became wet as tears streamed down your face, blurring the cracked tiles before you.
You shouldn't have cried. You should have been stronger. Not just for yourself, but...
Incoherent thoughts still occurred to you as you pressed your palm to your lips—a fruitless attempt to stop any further crying from coming out.
It was just a dream. Everything was fine.
Your glistening eyes were fixed on the glass of water as you took a sip and pushed the venom-like lump down your throat. Nobody was going to lose anyone. This fear was deeply buried under the sands of your heart. Why did it have to appear today of all days?
A chill ran down your esophagus. Your hand shook involuntarily, and a few drops of water slid from the corner of your mouth to your chin and neck and then ran to your perked nipples.
Looking down at your body, you wiped the drops away before feeling cold. After all, this planet didn't earn its name, "Noman's Land" for nothing. The weather could get pretty chilly and cruel in this desert when those two suns weren't out. Moreover, let's not forget how many people were denied heat due to a lack of resources. Ugh! So, it's not like you didn't know you should've worn something, but God damn it! You woke up feeling a great deal of fear. Fuck! Still, you weren't eager to catch a cold. At least, not today. As you were about to return to bed, you suddenly stopped. Random images filled your mind.
Tears staining emerald green eyes, red flowers blooming on blood, and heart-wrenching screams fading in the night, all in an empty room filled with balloons and mud.
The next gulp of water tasted salty, leaving you feeling numb. Tears must have flowed down your cheeks. You lowered your glass and let your thoughts drift away.
There was a flash of your limp body in your mind, accompanied by a sharp twinge in your gut, a screaming sensation in your body, as if your lungs craved for air.
You wicked away the images, expunging thoughts of pain and death from your mind. The churning in your stomach began to slow, but your skin took on a damp, clammy sensation in its wake. You struggled to recount the things you had eaten last night. It must be it. No doubt, you had eaten poorly.
It was just a dream. What the hell was wrong with you? Crying over a dream? What were you, five? No, not today! Not today! Not today! Get your shits together!
After a moment of hesitation, you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, ran your palm across your forehead and nose, and stopped it on your mouth before glancing at the bed.
Your pale face bloomed with a faint smile as you saw the sight—a miracle in this barren wilderness.
The curtains of the half-open window fluttered lazily with the morning breeze, letting the suns' rays play upon his scarred shoulder blades now and then, and run their greedy fingers through the golden waves of his hair, an enraged sea of sunflowers bounded by rough rocky beaches on the side. Oh! His undercut was glorious from where you watched.
He was sleeping with his eyelids slowly moving. The corners of his lips were curved upwards. Today seemed to be one of those rare days when he was free of the burdens of his past. Was he dreaming? What was his dream about? Love? Peace? Foods? Probably sweets!
You tried to avoid the woods squeaking beneath your feet as you walked back. Putting the glass of water next to the orange-tinted shades, you slowly climbed back under the warm sheets without shifting the mattress too much.
Once your head touched the pillow, cinnamon, and caramel again filled your nostrils. The man ate so many donuts that you feared he would become one. When you pictured it, your smile reached your eyes, and you giggled silently.
Like on the days you woke up early, you rolled over to face him and let your eyes roam over his abs muscles and those beautiful V lines guiding you to his secret paradise. Other than the massive gash across his chest, he had several cuts on his arms, wounds on his shoulders, and scars all over his back and legs. This man was a walking history, marked with painful memories, and luckily, your lips had perfectly mastered the story behind every blemish, slit, and stitch on his body.
It wasn't that simple, though.
When you first met him, he was a broken man covered in an old cloak, his eyes filled with agony. He was consumed by remorse, but nonetheless, he was still full of life and willing to try and glue back all his broken parts. Indeed, it was a challenge for him, and somehow, it didn't come easy to you either. Your heart ached when you removed each piece of clothing from his body. You cursed those who hurt him. It took you time and love to learn how to cherish those wounds instead of looking at them with pity. And little by little, your eyes learned to see a delicate kind of beauty in them, as if, every once in a while, you could see the sunlight shining through the cracks of his heart, lighting up your world in a most wonderful way.
Perhaps that's why after years of running, running, and running, he stopped for once and decided to rest. Something about you must have felt like home. And how lucky you were to have this?
06:30 am - July 21st
You couldn't look away from him, your mind unable to comprehend the perfection of this happiness. He was so ethereal you could hardly fathom that he was yours, wanted and loved you. You couldn't even hear yourself think over the rush of blood in your ears. The sight of him sleeping beside you, relaxed and vulnerable, was causing wild, desperate thoughts to race through your head. God! The fantasies you'd had about him. The places your mind had gone.
You sighed and brushed your face to the pillow, hoping he would roll over to you in his sleep so you could get back into his arms and the legs draped around you. Your eyelids peered at the glistening prosthetic arm in the soft light of the down. Could he feel your warmth whenever you kissed those fingers? How come you had never asked? There were many things you hadn't asked him yet.
Maybe you should start tomorrow? Hm? It's not like the world was ending today.
"You're going to come back over here, or you want to leave me cold and lonely?" he murmured, the raggedness in his voice confirming that he had been sleeping. Your gaze shifted upwards to meet his eyes, only to realize they were still shut, but his lips were painted with a playful grin.
Something inside you melted. It moved by his words, his smile, and his voice.
"I thought you were asleep." You scooted closer, and he wrapped his arms around you, cautious not to accidentally hurt you when he slipped his left arm beneath your neck. "I didn't want to wake you up." Your forehead pressed against his chest, and you felt the coldness of the iron mesh against your skin. His chin rested on your head, and his toes caressed your legs. The prickles of scars and fine hairs of his limbs tickled yours, and you felt blessed.
Funny how your nightmare faded the moment you felt his warmth like he burned a hole right through your head and pulled all your thoughts out. Well, other than that, it seemed like this morning, everything about him was exactly what you needed. His voice was calm and caring, his arms protective, and his presence comforting. You didn't want him to let go of you.
"Even if you had woken me up," he said, his artificial fingers sinking into your hair, and he continued, "I wouldn't have minded." A light kiss on the crown of your head followed his honest words. Even though this man kissed you every day and night, you could feel a silent giggle seeping into your body, causing your face to blush bright red.
Vash yawned soundlessly as he pulled you closer, his eyes still closed. The two of you were so close, too close, but never close enough for him. You had come to realize that your body heat did more for him than any blanket could. It was always in his eyes, aching with a desperate yearning he could only meet with you and your touch.
A joyful happiness settled between you as his hands drew shapes and patterns alongside your spine like those bright ones sometimes you could see on his body. Your lips curved into a smile as you watched him. His hair thick and blonde. The lines of his body sharp and robust. Damn! He had everything about him beautifully crafted. His nose. His chin. His ears and eyebrows. The eyelashes any girl would kill for and those turquoise-green eyes you longed to see. He had a gorgeous mouth.
You lingered too long there, your eyes betraying your mind.
Vash smiled. "What are you doing?" He fiddled with your hair, wrapping a lock around his finger.
In response, you sighed. Clearly, you would never discover how to avoid getting caught red-handed every time. "Just enjoying the view," you said, still staring at his mouth. You reached and touched two fingers to his bottom lip only to feel a rush of memories.
Long nights. Early morning. His mouth on you. Everywhere. Over and over again.
07:15 am - July 21st
He laughed sheepishly at your response.
You brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. His hair had grown a little long. You stroked his cheeks and drew his head back toward you, pressing your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his prosthetic arm while his other embraced you tightly. You could feel him smiling against your lips.
He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy. You should have been afraid and wanted to hide it, as he was the most wanted man on the planet, but love had made you bold and brave.
You pulled back and studied his kiss-inspiring lips. Your whole body was filled with a warmth you wanted to share with him because it was pure, and so was he. There was no way for you to find the right words to describe how you felt.
The morning light was shining through the windows at the perfect angle and time. His muscles were taut, bathed in gold.
"Can you lie back, Vash?" you asked, pushing his shoulder back toward the bed. Finally fluttering his eyes open, he lifted his head in your direction.
Oh.
God.
His eyes.
He blinked dark lashes, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty, unlike anything you'd seen before. The way a person could convey so much with a glance caught you off guard. He had an extraordinary amount of pain paired with even more extraordinary passion.
His face spread into a wide smile the moment he saw you. These smiles, they changed him, and moments like this killed you a little.
He had the kind of face that made you forget where you were, who you were, and what you might say or do. You held his face in your hands as you laid his head down on the pillow. A half-lidded gaze sat on his face as he leaned to your touch, and you kissed him. Slowly, this time. His eyes fell closed. His mouth responded to yours.
Your fingers moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your mouth followed them. Soft lips caressed his earlobes and nipped the tiny single hoop, hot breaths hitting his skin, surprising a giggle out of him.
His hands reached up to pull you closer, but you stopped him. "No," you whispered. "Don't move." Without a second thought, he dropped his hands.
"Lie back and keep your eyes closed," you muttered, and strangely, he didn't object. His obedience led to you kissing him everywhere. His cheeks. His eyelids. His chin. The tip of his nose and the space between his eyebrows. All across his forehead and along his jawline. Every inch of his face. Soft, small kisses that said more than you ever could. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to feel it in the way only he could, the way he could sense the depth of your emotions. You wanted him to know and never forget.
And you wanted to take your time.
As your mouth moved down his neck, he gasped. You peeked up at his features only to meet a crooked grin on his face. The moment was worth savoring. It seemed like Mr. Vash was enjoying himself, so your tongue continued to adore his arm's sculpted hills and valleys, the perfect shape of his torso.
You breathed in the scent of his skin and took in the taste of him as your hands ran down his abs, kissing your way across and down the line of his torso. You kissed around his navel, and the trails of fine hair underneath caressed your lips. He kept reaching for you, trying to touch you until you told him to stop.
"Please," he said, taking a deep breath. "I want to feel—"
Even though he couldn't see you, you raised your brows with a head tilt and gentled back his arms. "Not yet. Not now."
He let out a breath in protest and crossed his arms behind his neck until your hands went further down and his eyes flew open. Blinking at him, you found out you were still fascinated by his eyes—such a stunning shade of green. "Close your eyes, Vash," you had to tell him.
A big gulp of air filled up his Adam apple. "No." He hardly spoke.
"Close your eyes!"
With his sharp gaze following your every move, he shook his head and leaned on his elbows.
"Fine." You rolled your eyes, and your hand grabbed the base of his hardness.
As soon as your nails brushed the skin of his length, he sat up and stared at you. He was breathing so fast you could hear and see his chest moving.
With a smile, you looked him in the eyes and leaned your head down. Your mouth took in the tip, and your tongue traced circles as Vash gasped. The sight of your bent head made him bite his lip. No doubt every fiber of his being demanded you to take him fully in your mouth, but he wanted you to call the shots. Allowing you to control the pace pushed him to the edge. He enjoyed the thrill of knowing he was at your mercy.
Soft hairs of his thighs against your ears, your nose skimmed his sensitive areas, and your lips kissed all over those favorite parts. The smooth skin of your fingers rolled around was warm and delicate, so fragile you were afraid you might tear it with your teeth. You felt his hardness throb against your cheek, pleading with you not to neglect him. Your thumb rubbed the pre-cum off the pink tip as you raised your head.
You looked up at him, his hair gleaming like golden flames, his cheeks drenched with sweat, and his lower lip stuck between his teeth, and you realized that his eyes looked at you with a look of something like trepidation, as if he was nervous. His face was still flushed red, and he had an expression somewhere between unworthiness and pleasure. With every stroke, his breath grew heavier. Obviously, he wanted more but was trying to contain his desire. Did he feel he was getting something he didn't deserve again?
There was no way you could let him be alone with these thoughts. So, before his dazzled eyes, you licked your thumb and watched how blood drained from his head and rushed straight to his torso. In surrender, he fell back; his eyes squeezed shut. You closed your mouth to half his length, and he turned his face to the pillow, stifling a moan. A tremor ran through his body, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. Your hands ran down his legs, grabbing them just above his knees and inching them apart so you could trail kisses down the insides of his thighs.
He looked like he was in so much pain. So much pain.
You licked the pain away.
Twirling your fingers around the length, you took the crown in your mouth. Only enough to tease. Too little to satisfy. Your lips gently pressed against it, and when Vash was ready to scream, you accepted his whole length in your mouth.
Your lips were sealed tight as you hummed and increased the speed of your ministration. He threaded his fingers through your hair and molded his hands into your head, not to push you further down but to tilt your face up.
His forehead and neck were dripping sweat. The lines of emotion on his face were so deep you wondered how you must look to him. His throat bobbed, and you felt yourself drown in his eyes, enigmatic yet expressive, like sea foam, tempestuous but very calm. His fingers trailed over your salivate-covered lips, and you noticed that the sadness in his eyes had receded.
The world was suddenly brighter, bigger, and more beautiful.
07:40 am - July 21st
Taking hold of you by the arm pits, Vash pulled you in until your chest touched his. Next, you were rolled over so that your back touched the mattress, and he crawled onto you. Now his arms were propped up on either side of your head so he would not crush you under his weight. Looking into his eyes, you were pinned in place. His urgency ignited your bones. The polished planes of his face glowed with rivulets of sweat. His hardness was poking desperately against your thigh.
"I want to … …, …," he whispered. Intoxicated, you couldn't digest anything except his body hovering over you.
"… ?" His body pressed closer, and you realized you were paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in your lungs.
His eyes were heavy now in a way that worried you, but his gaze was still so tender, focused, and full of emotions you could hardly bring yourself to say anything. As your words faded, they became an unspoken whisper. Your lips glued together.
Screams.
Death.
Screams.
Your heart suddenly raced. What if these moments were destined to expire?
The sound of a clock striking midnight. A pumpkin carriage. The possibility of losing him.
You didn't want your arms to be deprived of his warmth. His touch. His lips, God, his lips, his mouth on your neck, his body wrapped around yours. The nightmare had caused this all, you knew, but the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into you.
Blinking fast, you swallowed back the fear building in your throat. God! He was speaking with you, but you couldn't hear him.
You were worried, really worried something was going to happen to him. What if bounty hunters found him? Could his brother hurt him? No. No. No. Even though you were only a human, you would never allow such a thing to happen. You just couldn't. You...
"Hey," he said, his voice soft, so soft. His arms were stronger than all the bones in your body. He pulled your figure close. You heard the beats of his heart humming deeply within his chest, and the steel of his arm encircled your whole body, releasing tension from your limbs. The icicles in your body were melted by his heat. Something about this frame made you want to freeze it forever. "You okay, Firefly? Wanna stop?"
The words he said sent waves of emotion coursing through you. He could read you like an open palm. You weren't lost before you met him, but you were never found until he laid eyes on you. Your tears stung as they fell backward down your throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, Vash," you said before closing your eyes.
He searched your face, unsure what to do, hesitating, until you felt his lips on your shoulder, tender and scorching, so gentle you could almost believe it was the kiss of breeze and not a man.
Again.
This time, it was on your collarbones and felt like an ache that needed to be soothed. You didn't want to do anything to stop his mouth from touching your body.
He pulled back.
Desire.
Crave.
Need.
Again.
Your eyes refused to open.
His finger grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, the curves, the seams, and the dips. You felt him so much closer, his body heat filling the air around you, along with his smell and something sweet, until nothing was left. Your senses were so engulfed in his scent you didn't even realize your back was arching toward him as you breathed him in until you found out his fingers were no longer on your lips because his hand had gotten around your body.
"So, where do you want me to kiss you?" Vash whispered, his chest heaving, his words almost gasping. A wave of blistering heat moved through you, sealed shut your mouth. You didn't specify precisely where you wanted him to kiss you, and he didn't seem to have any difficulty selecting the spot.
He whispered your name as he kissed the corner of your eyebrow. "Here?" His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, and your body squirmed slightly. "Or here?" He pressed a kiss against your neck, right beneath your ear, and you tipped your head to let him in, biting down the urge to beg him to take more, to take faster, as he murmured, "tell me."
Clasping your warm fingers with his cold metallic ones, he hovered over you to kiss your throat. You were the oxygen he desperately needed to breathe. His body was almost on top of yours, one hand in your hair while the other held yours delicately yet firmly. His lips crushed yours in no time.
A kiss like this was like swimming in honey rivers, like being dipped in gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss and not realizing you were drowning because you were too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing mattered anymore—neither your nightmare, this room, or the whole fucking planet.
All that mattered was this.
This.
This moment. These lips. This strong body pressed against yours, and these firm hands that always found a way you bring you closer. Oh, My Gosh! You wanted so much more of him. You wanted all of him.
Your eyes opened up.
Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, dancing over his broad shoulders, pressing into his dimples, and squeezing his hips.
Your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair when he broke for air with a groan, but you pushed him back, kissing his neck, arm, collarbones, and chest. It was amazing. Being with him, touching him, holding him like this. The rush of adrenaline was so intense and euphoric that you felt invincible.
He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking. Your skin was scorched everywhere he hadn't touched you.
He kissed your top lip.
He licked your bottom lip.
He kissed just under your chin, the tip of your nose, the length of your forehead, both temples and cheeks across your jawline. Then your neck, behind your ears, the space between your breasts. He nibbled your nipples and left trails of kisses all the way down your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly his chest was hovering above your hips.
Grasping your calves, he spread your legs apart just enough for his head to fit between. Your thighs were lifted, and you couldn't see him anymore. His only visible features were the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that sight was lost, with your head falling backward and muffled moans leaving your mouth.
Vash ran his hands down and up around your bare upper thighs and ribs, and he held your hips to make you stand still. Your eyes lit up like small firecrackers every time his hair teased your groins until his lips kissed you there, and fireworks exploded in the back of your head.
As his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue played around to make you scream aloud. His mouth brushed against your skin in places you couldn't see but felt deeply. Oh my! You were out of your body, touching stars, when you realized he was working his way up your body, leaving two fingers of that prosthetic arm behind.
"It might feel a bit cold," he said as his nose glided the skin of your stomach, leaving random kisses around your breasts and collarbones just to ease your tension. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" His hair was a mess, the wetness on his lips all familiar.
A nod came from you in response. He almost seemed to be smiling as his fingers slipped inside your slit, and your nails dug into the fabric. Moaning, you felt his warm hand brushing your hair backward as the other moved up and down inside your walls.
Your mouth was parted in a silent moan, and his small pecks covered you all around. There were tears in your eyes, baby hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead.
As his thumb and two fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.
You grabbed his free arm, and he pulled himself up, onto you, on top of you. As if reading your thoughts, he kissed you hard. How strange, yet sweet, all you could taste was you, yourself, on his tongue. You moaned at the taste, and he opened his mouth more for you, allowing you to brush your tongue against his teeth.
The stinging coldness of his fingers was long gone. You had forgotten everything. There was something you shouldn't have forgotten, but you couldn't even remember why, what you were forgetting. Amid his length caressing your side and those digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.
You could die from this, you decided. From wanting him, from the pleasure of being with him.
You must be smiling because he was looking at you and smiling too. His forehead was pressed against yours. His skin was flushed with heat. His hand had kept your head still. Your hands gripped his nick, sliding into the hollow behind it. You placed your palms just above his nape, and your fingertips gently began to squeeze and massage his undercut.
"Va-sh."
For a moment, you thought life poured out of you, or maybe your vision fractured as release barreled into you, and you grasped his name over and over again till your body calmed under his weight.
08:10 am- July 21st
Your eyes landed on his glistening wet metallic fingers, and you were dripping, burning, melting with anticipation. He was still on top of you when you thought you heard him speak, his mouth close to your ear.
"I love you," he whispered and kissed your brow. It never occurred to you that he could be like this, so human, so real, but it was there. It was right there. Raw, written across his face. You were about to mutter all the words and worries you held in your chest, but suddenly he stood up and stared blankly at the other side of the room.
You followed his gaze to the pane of glass separating you from the reality outside. You awaited his lips to part. You waited to listen to him speak. His eyes weren't revealing anything about what he was thinking, what was going on.
Something about the realization struck fear into your heart. In the span of a single instant, darkness surrounded your vision. Images appeared in the blur of your sight again.
The petals of red Geraniums floating in the sky, a boy running through blood-stained sands, the time speeding up and slowing down in fits and starts, streaks of green and red staining your dilated eyes, stars exploding, lights flashing, sparking, and then it's all darkness and Vash's screams.
You shook your head.
The images disappeared, but the heartaches and fears lingered, and you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe. Your lungs begged for air, but you looked around for Vash instead.
It seemed he wanted to scream, but you knew the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Those thoughts would expand in his head, explosive and angry, pressing against the ridges of his mind, and then he would hide them behind a smile. As he always did.
"Vash?" you called, just before witnessing how a car's radio sound from the street ripped open his past, pulled out what was left of his heart, and dropped it on the floor.
"… been two years since that fateful July 21st. A crowd has gathered at what used to be the third city of July to pay their respects. Even after two years, the pain of losing their loved ones has yet to heal. The suspect said to have murdered 90 percent of the city, also known as the Humanoid Typhoon, still remains at large. Vash the Stampede is on the run. If I were the demon who turned the whole city into a gaping crater overnight, I'd hide my face too. There is no forgetting the sorrow of loved ones taken from us. The Alliance of Cities has raised the dead or alive bounty on Vash the Stampede to $$60 billion, the highest in the history of…"
The loud words bounced around in the haze of your head, fogging your senses, misting your eyes, and clouding your concentration. In your bones, there was just ice. Your entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped you in the face, punched you in the jaw, and dumped you into sand oceans. You grasped the nightstand to keep yourself steady. The orange shades fell on the floor, leaving a big crack on display.
Vash was shaking his head over and over and over and over. He was looking at his hands like he would see some blood on them, as if waiting for the part where someone would tell him this wasn't real and he didn't actually kill those 200,000 innocent people.
Oh, my beloved.
The pain was so plain on his face; it was killing you. Your gaze was drawn to the balled fists at his sides, the furrows in his brow, and the tension in his jaw. Minutes ago, this man was free, but now he was a prisoner of his own crime. In your heart, you wished you could release him from the claws of self-reproach.
Having seen his terror too often, you knew it well.
Sometimes, even when he was asleep, his tormented mind would grip his heart, and such emptiness and sadness would fill him that you felt he was suffocating, as if his sleepless nightmares never had an end.
You didn't know him before,
but
you
thought
he
had
lost
a
bit
of
himself
on
the
day
of
July
incident.
As time passed, you assumed he had finally learned not to dwell on what had happened. You imagined he avoided it like a cripple learning not to put weight on his injured leg.
However, deep down, you knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble. You always dreaded this day. This silence. It was not just an ordinary silence caused by the lack of things that moved or made noise, but a deep and tired silence that sometimes covered him like an invisible cloak—like the one ruling between your shared walls right now.
Stacks of sorrow had grown inside him, settling on his bones and snapping him in half. A cable twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.
How naive of him to think he could slip into the role of a regular being and live a normal life in love and peace.
Vash.
Vash the stampede with a dream.
The mere thought of it filled him with mortification. He began to think others were right when they said things like him were better off destroyed.
Shaking his head, he coughed against the torture in his lungs, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission, leaving him sitting on the bed's edge like a sack full of nothingness. The old gunman looked as if he might collapse, barely breathing, his life-force being torn asunder.
You felt like your throat was closing up. You knew the infamous humanoid typhoon was everything broken and glued back together, and now knives bore holes into his cracked bones, filled with grief that could take his breath away.
Your face was drained of color, your ears ringing with your heart pounding. His desperate screams from your nightmare echoed in your head as if on repeat. His agony was acute. His terror palpable. Tears sprung to your eyes. It was painful to look at him, being so close and far away from him.
"Local news. You know how dumb they are," you said, trying to hide your petrified and nerve-wracking thoughts from his reach. What if he never experienced peace? What if there was no sanctuary, and the pain was always a whisper away, no matter where he went?
Pressing your nails to your palm, you continued, "None of that incident was your fault. You know that too. You hear me?"
His eyes widened a little. No one had ever cared about him for this long. No one had kept him ever this closely to read his thoughts word by word. No one had ever treated him like a human being. Then again, he thought you didn't know about all of his sins. In a century and a half, he hadn't been able to forgive himself; how could you? It made him wonder how long you could endure him before running for your life.
His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. He clenched his fists and pushed back down the misery that had stuck with him. Even though he didn't want this, you'd probably be better off without him.
"Vash?" You swallowed and dug your fingers into the sheets desperately, a tear trickling down your cheek. It kept hitting you in the face, in the skull, in the spine, this knowledge of just how much you loved him.
His lips looked like they were barely able to form words. He could only take these harsh gasps and wonder why his body hadn't given up.
On all fours, you approached him and sat on your knees on the edge of the bed with a slight distance between you and him. You knew he wouldn't object, but you didn't want to intrude on his privacy. Thus, you remained silent so that he wouldn't be left by himself, and he would know you wouldn't leave him alone.
09:15 am – July 21st
Time passed, and you checked on him occasionally to see if he wanted to talk until he raised his head slightly.
"I'm a demon," he said the sentence so quietly. So, so quietly. He ran a hand across his face, both hands through his hair, looking like he wanted to scream, to break something, like he was truly about to lose his mind. "The world sees me as a threat. An unfixable monster. An abomination. They want me dead." His voice sounded sorrowful, almost like he had already accepted these labels.
Thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. "I don't think you're a demon. Also, I don't think you're some sick, twisted monster. I don't think you're a heartless killer, and I don't think you deserve to die. You're not a humanoid typhoon. No, you're not any of the things people have said about you," you told him, words tripping and stumbling out of you.
His mouth fell closed, struggling with some kind of emotion, struggling to find composure. Suddenly he gasped. "No." One broken word. Barely even a sound. He was shaking his head, looking away from you. He turned to face the window. "No. No, no—"
"Vash—"
"No," he said. His voice was so soft and so scared you could scarcely hear it. "No, you don't know what you're saying—"
"You're not a monster!" you said. "And I love you exactly as you are. I don't even want you to fix yourself; I don't think you need to be fixed. People here love you as you are. Your name is the only thing that scares them," you told him.
You knew people had the right to fear him. You knew. Humanoid Typhoon certainly wasn't made of sugar, spice, and everything nice, but rather from hurricanes, lightning, and all things that scared. Seeing dusty storms and raging winds, people thought he was scary. They feared he would harm them. In truth, he was only his own disaster, destroying himself for others. He was Vash. Your Vash. Vash the Stampede, and you loved him with all his fears and frights, dreams and nightmares, sins and scars.
You smiled and continued, "If they learn your name and start hunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."
Maybe tears filled his eyes. Possibly his breath was trapped in his chest. Perhaps his heart warmed a little. No one knew, not even the author. He had his head down, his chest rising and falling.
You sat behind him. A map of pain had covered his entire back. Thick, thin, uneven, and terrible, scars like roads leading nowhere. There were bolts and ragged slices, marks of torture he was not protected from.
Kindness must be difficult when all you'd received was hatred. Being able to see goodness in the world must be so hard when your only experience had been terror. You wanted to say something to him. Something profound, complete, and memorable, but there was nothing suitable. This planet was a broken bone that didn't set right, and Vash wanted to glue it back together. Alone, all by himself.
You two differed in this respect. Fearless and unafraid were two different things. He was fearless. He dared to outshine the sun, stare down a bullet, kiss death and walk away with his back unguarded. He would hold the whole world in his palms despite its bone-crushing weight, despite its sharp edges crusted with blood, if only he could stop it from falling apart. But you? You were fearful. Sometimes you couldn't breathe around the clot of fear lodged in your throat. The only way to lessen its weight on your tongue was to scream until no words came out, while the only way to chase away its shadows was never to close your eyes at night. You were unafraid of one thing, though —he could tear down the world and bury you alive under the weight of his guilt, yet you would follow him without hesitation.
Your eyes rested upon woven strands of sunlight, alighting softly upon his scarred skin. These honeyed arcing rays gave him a light glimmer that revealed his plant patterns, pulsing slowly and dimly. Something about the scene was so divine, and you felt the dawn rise from your heart every morning and reach the sky.
You hugged him from behind by bridging the gap between your bodies and leaned your cheek against his sun-kissed back. Your hands gently caressed his stomach and chest as your lips left kisses on his love reminiscences—one by one.
You could hear him breathing in and out. Unevenly. Yet he was silent. Hands clenched, knuckles white. Of course, he wanted you with a desperate need he had never known. But his regret, sins, and crimes were so overwhelming they consumed him. He thought, how could you be so kind to a thing like him?
Unaware of the voices in his mind, you dropped a kiss on his spine. You kissed the curve of his shoulder. His shoulder blades. Five kisses down his spine, each softer than the other one. For every little moment of pain he had ever felt in his life, you wanted to make it all go away. You kissed his neck, trying to ignore the tension in his muscles, the ache spreading inside you, urging you to end his suffering.
Your words were heavy with sincerity when you said, "I don't care what everyone else thinks about you." You leaned your forehead to his shoulder, your breaths gently caressing his back. "Because you're the only good thing left in this world."
As his eyes widened, he breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "What are you saying?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "How can you tell such a thing this after all this?" His hand pointed to the window, to the news on the radio.
Standing on your knees, you kissed the hand caught between his gold locks. The same hand he always tried to cover its scar with a glove. Because the idiot thought his scars would be repulsive. The idiot. Your favorite idiot.
You didn't sit back. Keeping your head there, your nose buried in his hair, and your chest pressed to his back—this smell. You had never seen a sea, but you had heard about them. And you believed if there was ever to be a sea in this hell hole, he would smell like a sunny beach. Sweet, enveloping, and warm.
"That is—" your voice broke when you spoke. "That's what the family is for, Vash."
A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. He dropped his hand on his knee and sat still in place by the weight of your words. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with both sadness and happiness.
A family.
All this time, he thought you were with him all along because you didn't have a grasp on his sins, but now, he could see that you already knew everything. And despite all of this, you were still willing to forgive him and give him something he always wanted but never had without even requiring him to earn it or redeem himself.
You touched his arm and traced the tender skin with your fingertips. Scars everywhere. You kissed the back of his elbow. "I'm sorry for everything humans have done to you," you told him, and he took a shallow breath. "Forgive us." Another kiss. "Forgive me."
A delicate warmth filled Vash's heart and melted it into drops of warm honey that soothed the scars in his soul. He turned his head and stared at you with open, vulnerable eyes, a tight jaw, and tensed muscles. No one had ever apologized to him. According to his experience, he was usually the monster, the wicked one. The onus always was on him to make amends.
It stunned him how strange it felt. Up until now, he never thought he deserved forgiveness, let alone someone asking for it.
Running a tired hand across his face, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A joy filled his heart, causing him to feel heavy with something he wasn't even sure he could describe.
Gratitude, perhaps.
The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful. But for now, he didn't want to think about it. He simply just wanted to enjoy your proximity.
Your hand reached up to stroke the luminous curved shapes on his cheek, tracing them to the softness of the mole beneath his left eye. The look in those aquamarines breaking your heart. You couldn't bear to see his face covered in sorrow and guilt.
"You're a good man, my Vash," you said, your words soft, your hand gentle as you tilted his chin up toward your mouth. He was blinking fast, yet not denying. You whispered words on his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "Rem would've been proud of you," you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him once, tenderly.
He found himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melded his lips with yours. He sighed into your mouth, and you kissed him even more deeply, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. You could taste the salt on your tongue. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made your flesh burn. You were uncertain whose they were as you continued to try and cling to him.
10:00 am – July 21st
The sheets slowly slipped and fell to the floor as Vash pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight, hardly able to breathe. When he exhaled and looked at you again, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things you had never seen before. His whole body seemed to be relaxed in relief. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a single, fraying thread. You.
And you promised yourself, at this moment, that you would hold him forever, just like this, until all the pain, the torture, and the suffering was gone, until he'd given a chance to live the kind of life where no one could ever hurt him this deeply ever again.
He touched your cheek. Soft, as if he wasn't sure if you were real. His four fingers caressed the side of your face gently before they slipped behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.
You did so much with these lips, you thought. Touched, kissed, and pressed them against tender parts of his skin. You made promises, and the words they formed, the shapes and sounds they curved around, all for him.
Vash moved closer by just an inch. His free metallic hand cupped the other side of your face. He was holding you like you were made of crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands, he couldn't believe you were real.
Gone was the man with guns and bullets. These hands treasuring you had never held a weapon. They were perfect and kind, never touched by death. He took your hands and pressed your palms to his face. Tears must have welled up in your eyes when you closed them.
You whispered his name, and he breathed harder than you.
Could this be a dream?
You shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and he held you like no one had before. He wanted you. Seeing him cling to you as he might never let go did something to you, something heady, knowing that he might wish you, or need you, like this, made you want to protect him even though he didn't need your protection.
Gently, he stroked your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead. Gradually, his arms became the arms around your waist; his lips became the lips pressed against yours, his body the warmth you felt.
You weren't even breathing, but you were alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. The palms of his hands were rubbing the small of your back as he lifted you into his lap. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, allowing him to kiss your neck, throat, and nipples.
You broke apart with his small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at him like a bonehead, your brain still too numb to figure out exactly how you two got here.
Tilting his head to a side, he pressed his lips against yours again, seeking you with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. His hands were threaded in your hair, his lips so soft, so urgent against yours, like fire and cinnamon exploding in your mouth.
Vash nibbled your bottom lip in a flash and pulled back just a little bit. Your body was flooded with heat and desire so intense you could hardly think when he parted his lips from you to sigh in your mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove you crazy.
Putting one hand under your neck, placing his mouth on your breast, and running his fingers down your back, he pressed your body closer, only to find something hard pressing against your groin.
Oh.
Well.
While he avoided your gaze, he smiled sheepishly and tentatively touched your thighs with his hands. Because of what had happened, you knew he would probably feel embarrassed to ask for it, but that didn't mean you wouldn't give it to him. He deserved the whole world if you had the chance to provide for him. His markings were glowing softly when you squeezed him closer to yourself, holding him tighter.
Biting his lip and stifling his groan, his smart-ass hands slid up your legs and into your thighs. Soon, his lips reached your chest. Your body ached everywhere, tasting colors and sounds you didn't even know existed. His forehead was pressed against your chin, and your hands gripped his shoulders. He was hot, gentle, and somehow in a hurry.
You were beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way you were feeling right now. Nothing mattered anymore. You were left with only this moment: his mouth on your body, his hands on your skin, and his lust deep in his eyes, making you absolutely insane.
Your wetness was no longer a secret when he surrounded you everywhere. As he watched you, you reached down and adjusted his length against your slippery entrance over a few strokes. His pulse could be felt in your palm and soon inside of you.
Using both soft and hard hands, he gently grasped your hips and pulled you down toward him. As he entered, you gasped, every time surprised at his size, clinging desperately to his neck as he hitched your legs around his waist, his prosthetic arm settling beneath your thigh. You loved the feeling of him stretching you. You loved having him this close to you. You loved the way he manhandled you. You loved his hand around your neck and the little squeeze of his fingers around your nape.
His grip tightened when he sensed you were ready for him, and he started moving you up and down. You cried out and leaned your cheek to his nose, dying and somehow being brought back to life in the same moment, in the same breath.
Fuck! You were full of him.
He lifted your thighs, and you bit back the moan stuck in your throat. His mouth wouldn't let go of your skin, kissing you with an intensity that made you wonder why you hadn't died, caught on fire, or woken up from this dream yet. Then he returned his hands to your face and kissed you once, twice.
The room's silence was filled with your heavy breathing, your chest against Vash's. Your pulses hammered against each other. You felt his arms around you become unbearably tight as he yanked you up and down with even more force than before, hitting you in a place he seemed to know too well.
As his teeth caught your bottom lip momentarily, you pushed your nails to his shoulder, running your fingers through his hair to pull him into your mouth. He tasted so sweet. So hot and sweet. You kept trying to say his name, but you couldn't even breathe, much less say a single word.
The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.
Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down, traveling quietly down your cheeks, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, against your tongue and saliva. As if he had found Adam's ale between million mirages of the desert, he stared at you, his eyes like fire in the water.
"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile, uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lingering flavor of pleasure laced in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your head spun into oblivion.
Vash loved you…
His temple was leaned against yours when you took his earlobe between your teeth, stripped him to his bones, and ruined him from the inside out. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."
Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.
You. You were his. You, the one who knew if you left him alone at that moment, would fall into the depths of his own hell; if he'd slipped through your fingers, he would be gone, and no one could bring him back. You did not erase all his pain or offer to solve all his problems. You didn't fix everything that was broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. What mattered the most was that you stayed.
He loved you.
He loved you so much.
Grasping your soft hips, he buried his face against your shoulder and sped up. You were his undoing, taking him apart and putting him back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. He gritted his teeth as his orgasm came barreling at him. His hands glided on your back when you shuddered, your inner walls squeezing him so hard he couldn't prevent his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice—and then everything around you both disappeared until it was all just colors and light, the sun shines and oceans, apple trees, and blossoms.
Your eyes were still closed, and you felt his hands laced with yours, just to remind you that you had him here and that he was with you. Your partner in everything. His chest heaving, he buried his face in your neck, sweat covering his temples. Kissing him there, you inhaled the scent of his hair.
"You're my family too," you heard him whisper, his words etched into your soul as his lips moved against your skin. And you wished, more than ever, that you could capture moments like this and relive them forever.
12:50 pm – July 21st
You woke up with a smile, your skin still hot from the memory of your vile. You were cleaned with a wet towel, placed in bed with a kiss, and promptly fell asleep. Thankfully, no nightmares this time.
What time was it? You didn't know.
As you stretched your legs under the sheets, you realized your back was against Vash, his prosthetic arm resting on your pillow, the other tucked around your waist. Knowing he had held you this close warmed the pit of your stomach and made you feel so safe that you didn't ever want to move, but you had a thousand things to do today, but you never, ever wanted to move.
Truth be told, you loved these moments the most. The quiet contentment. Being enveloped by his naked body. You never felt closer to him than you did like this when there was nothing between you.
Today was a big day delayed by your nightmare and the sound of that stupid radio! There was no way you were going to let anything overshadow his birthday anymore. Even for a few hours, he deserved this celebration, this little distraction. He deserved to be happy, eat, and laugh.
You sighed, hating to wake him up since he seemed pretty tired. Slowly, you turned around in his arms. A smile tugged at your mouth as you watched him, amazed at how his presence could bring you such peace. He shifted again, burrowing deeper into the pillows, and you realized he must be exhausted.
Watching the movement of his throat, you breathed him in, running your hands along the deep, strong lines of muscle in his arm. His entire being felt raw. Powerful. Being a plant had something wild and terrifying about it; somehow, this knowledge only made you love him more. You traced the contours of his shoulder blades, then his spine. He stirred, but only briefly, and buried his face in your hair.
"Don't go," he whispered softly, pressing his nose to your scalp alongside his lips.
You tilted your head, gently kissing the column of his throat. "Vash," you whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
Taking a deep breath, he said, "good."
You smiled. "Oh, but we should probably get out of bed. I promised Rosalina I'll help—"
A disapproving sound escaped his throat as he shook his head, deftly helping you turn around. He hugged you close again, your back pressed against his chest. Soft and husky, his voice was full of desire when he said, "C'mon, let me enjoy this. Feeling good."
"You don't want a cake?" you blurted out, but it certainly caught his attention.
You could feel he raised his head, stiffened and confused. "How come Rosalina's making me a cake?"
Did you hear correctly? Had he forgotten about his birthday? Did this day become neglected to the point where it was forgotten?
Turning around, you saw he was sitting, his body frozen and his heart probably pounding furiously. Getting him to attend his birthday would take more effort than you expected. Because he asked how you could possibly plan a party for him, why anyone would throw him a party, what if he didn't even like birthday parties, and so on. Still, you didn't fall short. Since the day he told you about Rem making them a cake for their birthday, you kept track of his birthday. The July incident wasn't going to overshadow his birthday. It was your vow to replace that memory with better ones. That forever and ever, you'd strive to drown out the darkness that had ruined his life.
In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow. When he swallowed, you noticed the gentle movement in his throat and moved your hand to his ear, your pinkie touching his earring, then tracing down his jawline. You didn't receive a rejection, but you didn't receive a yes, either. Why wasn't he saying anything? He had you on your worried until he clasped his hands over his face.
Your hand brushed against his undercut as you gently kissed his temple and tried to pry his hands away from his face. "Vash?" you said, your words hardly a whisper. "Is everything alright?"
The reply took him a few seconds to come out, but when he finally did, he nodded. It was only once, but it was enough. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay."
The feeling of relaxation washed over you as you exhaled. "If you don't want a—"
He held and squeezed your hand as he looked at you, his eyes round when he said, a little nervously, "what have I done," he whispered, his voice trembling, "to deserve you?"
Did you die of joy? Because he took your face in his hands and kissed you so passionately, it blew your mind. Your heart began to beat violently, and you didn't recognize yourself. You didn't recognize your hands, your bones, your heart. You felt new. "Thank you," he whispered. "For loving me and everything."
"It's very, very easy to love you, Vash," your lips might have said, but the words never left your lips. You didn't know what to do, so you reeled him in, kissed him, and lost yourself in his taste and feel, in the fantasy of what you might have. What you might be.
But wait! Didn't you know fate was a jealous, vicious mistress that never ever slept?
You blinked.
You blinked again, but this time for too long. You saw a flash of blood spewing inside your open mouth. Nausea returned with a swiftness that scared you. A breath was drawn, your fingers fluttering as you desperately tried pressing them against your stomach. Pain filled your eyes as you kept them open. Clenching your fists, you attempted to control spiraling thoughts.
However, nothing helped. Nothing helped. Nothing, you thought. Nothing, nothing, and nothing.
Where was Vash? Where were you?
Throughout your open eyes, terror oozed from your heart. You heard someone calling your name. A hand brushed lightly along your spine as you shivered suddenly at the unexpected sensation.
" …," the voice said, "do you … ?"
The warmth moved in only to meet the coldness of your skin. You felt it all. Again and again, a touch of his finger did pull you out of your nightmare.
A rustle of sheets caught your attention, and Vash pulled you onto his lap. Straddling him, your legs stretched across the rumpled fabric. Wrapping his arm around you, he spread his hand along your back.
It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
Turning carefully in the cradle of his arms, you pressed your forehead to his bare chest, your eyelashes fluttering against his rough gash.
"You okay?" he asked, his metallic fingers combing through your hair in a soothing act.
"Yes," you replied, forcing air into your lungs. You were breathing hard, head spinning as you held on to him. "Yes."
"Is something wrong, Elay?" He probably had lowered his head because his breath was touching your shoulder.
"Nothing," you claimed. Your heart was beating fast, too fast. You didn't know why you were lying. You should have just told him, but you didn't know why you weren't.
Wait.
Actually, you knew.
You were waiting.
You were waiting to see if this shit would pass. It had to, because today was a special day. Because you were already exhausted, and the radio's sound was repeating in your ears. Because you didn't want to add another burden to his shoulders with your silly nightmare. Even more, it wasn't real. Just a figment of your imagination, and saying it out loud would make it sound more real than it really was.
Vash asked no further questions. He was more of an "if you love someone, let them keep their secrets to themselves " guy. He pulled you close, and you melted into him, grateful for his warmth and steady hold. You took a deep, shuddering breath and let it all go, exhaling against him. A faint aroma of caramel lingered in your nostrils as you breathed in his skin's rich, heady scent. The minutes passed silently as you both listened to each other breathe.
01:45 pm – July 21st
It took a while, but your heart rate steadied.
You could feel it.
Here.
This.
Your bones against his bones. This was your home.
"What're you thinking?" His lips touched your neck, a graze that sparked, hot and cold, right down to your toes.
"Been thinking about you." You raised your head and looked at him. He was smiling, the unfaltering sun glinting in his eyes. You could see his fear, hopes, and love for you like a mirror to his soul in those mountain lake-colored spheres. Then there was something else as well—something like bliss. It was a faint glow, but it was there and made you so happy. You had blessed the blessing. He deserved happiness after everything he had been through. After all the horrors he had suffered alone.
"Me?"
As you closed the gap between you two again, you nodded against his chest. Nothing was said, but you could hear his heart racing until he exhaled. It was a heavy, uneven sound, as if he might have been holding his breath for too long.
Gently, you ran your hand along his back. "How long has it been since you celebrated your birthday?" you whispered.
"Hm?" He buried his face in your hair, and his nose glided over your scalp in what appeared to be caressing movements.
It didn't take a genius to figure out when he was ducking a question. You wiggled a little to loosen his grip and looked up. Your fingers ran through the soft, silky strands. The sight of him mesmerized you. His eyes were wide and bright. His lips soft and pale. He was perfect, bare, and beautiful, holding you in his arms. Sighing, you closed your eyes. "Let me ask it this way then," you said, "How many birthdays have you missed so far?"
Nothing came out of his mouth for what seemed like an eternity. You felt him finally move. In a gentle caress, his prosthetic fingers touched your face. "150 birthdays," he whispered, his voice uneven.
Your spine tingled involuntarily. 150 years of solitude. Loneliness. Alone with himself. On this giant planet. Where was his home? Where were his friends? His lovers?
You knew he was so much better at being alone as if being alone came more naturally. He led a life of deliberate seclusion, and when occasional loneliness crept in, he knew how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts or work his way out. After all, there were always bars and saloons and strangers around.
You knew he wanted to carry the weight of life all alone, even the burden of those he once loved. It wasn't fair, though. You had to be allowed to help him carry it all. A frown formed on your face, and you inhaled, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! Happy birthday #3!..."
His metallic forefinger stopped your lips. Slowly, you looked up to meet his eyes. His expression was sad, sweet, and filled with love. You felt something thawed inside of you as you stared at him.
"You don't have to do this," he said as he separated his finger from your lips to brush away stray strands of hair from your face. A part of you wished his finger could stay there longer.
"Shut up and let yourself celebrate! We've got at least 150 birthdays to catch up on!"
He kissed your eye, and you felt his smile on your eyelid. His lips started moving tardily when he said, "I don't—"
"Shhhh! Since you interrupted me, I'm starting over!" you snapped and continued, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! …"
The smile on his face grew bigger and bigger, as if he was filled with so much joy that he hardly recognized himself. You couldn't recall the last time he smiled this much. It was the most pure, unburdened bliss you had ever experienced.
He held you the entire time you felicitated all his forgotten birthdays. You could see it in how he looked at you. You could feel his fears disappearing and his emotions becoming something else. Now, his touch was hot and electric against your skin. Your heart was beating faster and harder, and he didn't have to say anything. You could feel the temperature change between you.
"You," he said, staring at your mouth. He touched his nose to yours, and something inside you jolted to life. You heard your breath caught, your ears turning red, unbidden. "I love you," he whispered.
The words did something to you every time you heard them. They built something new inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "You know," you mumbled shyly, "It never gets old hearing you say that."
Leaning you back a little, he moved, his nose brushed the line of your jaw, and his lips touched your throat. You were holding your breath, terrified to move, to leave this moment.
"I love you," he said again.
Heat filled your veins. You could feel him in your blood, his whispers overwhelming your senses.
"Vash," you said. You wanted to talk to him about what happened hours ago. You knew you should've moved and snapped out of this but couldn't. You couldn't think. And then his hand brushed against your breasts. You breathed quickly, fighting against a sudden rush of pleasure.
It was impossible to pretend anything when he was this close to you. You knew he could feel how badly you wanted him. You could feel him, too. His heat. His desire. He made no secret of what he wanted from you. What he wanted you to do to him.
He kissed you softly, wrapping his arms around you, one too cold, the other too hot. Your body shifted forward in his embrace as you took another painful, agonizing breath.
"I know you're worried," he said, his lips too close to yours and his hot breath in your mouth. "I know we have to talk, but—" He never finished that sentence. He kissed you as he reached down, trailing his fingers along the inner parts of your thighs, and the movement seared through you. Your vision went white. You heard nothing but the pounding of your heart, then you remembered.
"Vash? Um-I have to-ah," you panted, "she is waiting."
You could feel his smile as he whispered the word in your ear. His fingers were teasing your groins. "Please." And you were gone.
One hand kept your head steady, the other roamed around your loins, and he kissed and melted you. Your eyes met his, and the feeling threatened to drown you. He kissed you, and every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.
Holy Molly!
He eft his kisses everywhere like he knew, like he knew how desperately you needed this, needed him, needed this comfort and release.
Like he needed it, too.
Taking hold of his neck, you raised yourself up to kiss his nose, cheeks, and lips. The line of your bodies was welded together. You felt yourself dissolving, becoming pure emotion as he parted his lips, teased you, and breathed into your mouth. "I love you," he said, gasping the words.
He kissed the top of your shoulder, and his artificial hand wandered over your body, down your back, cupping your back side, lingering on your upper thighs like he wanted to memorize the shape of you, always leaving you in awe of how gentle he was. Your muscles tightened with longing, and you were surprised at how much you wanted him.
Again.
So soon.
However, you had to stop this.
"I'd better get dressed," you said, pulling yourself back, grabbing sheets, and covering yourself with them. "I've got stuff to do."
A grin spread across his face as he watched you as if he could sense your frustration. You crawled from his lap, the bedsheets catching under your knees and making you lose your composure. Like a sneaky fox, he couldn't resist taking advantage of the moment. He yanked the rest of the sheet away from you and tucked you underneath him. His weight pinned you to the mattress, a knee intentionally jammed between your legs and slowly grinding you down.
"Here's what I want for my birthday," he said, kissing your parted lips. He knew what he was doing and knew you couldn't comprehend his words. "I have this idea. Just hear me out; I think that maybe you should consider being naked all the time. I mean, just always. Okay?"
"Okay. I have to—" What were you saying? He had his mouth all over you, sucking at your breasts, licking your throat, his fingers going straight to your sensitive spots.
The moment he got there, you knew you wouldn't let him go, even if he wanted to. So, you needed to gather your wits and act before it was too late.
Think. Think. Think.
"Vash!" you gasped, pushing him up with your hand as much as possible. "I know you're going nuts like a hunk in heat," you said, holding his cheeks between your hands and staring at his big downturned eyes. "I gotta shower and go to the saloon so you can meet me there at eight, okay, good boy?" You tapped on his shoulder.
With raised eyebrows, Vash got off you, but you remained trapped between his knees. Although he crossed his arms and pretended to be mad, you could see him fighting back a smile. It was amazing how that poor piece of sheet managed to cover his hips; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to focus on his face.
"You were going to take a shower without me?" he said sternly.
You couldn't figure out what to say for a moment and then carefully asked, "would you like to join me?"
Considering your offer, he gazed at you, up and down, with a sweet, secret smile. The look in his eyes was enough to persuade you to agree to anything. You would do anything for this man if he asked. Even if he didn't bother to ask.
"Vash."
Your heart was heavy as you whispered his name, filled with emotion. You went still as he hovered over you, gently mouthing your nipples. His kisses grow more intent, leaving a trail of fire across your chest, down your torso, and rushing through your veins.
Suddenly, you forgot why you were even in such a hurry.
Your hands slipped around his neck, and you reeled him in. He felt incredible against you, his body fitting perfectly. You tilted his face up, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling your blood with dangerous speed.
As one hand held him steady, the other skimmed the smooth skin of your waist, gripping your hip hard. He parted your legs with his thigh, hearing you make a desperate sound deep in your throat, and it did something to him, to feel and hear you like that, to be assaulted by your pleasure and desire. It drove him crazy.
Vash buried his face in your neck, and his hand moved up to feel your breasts' tender skin, hot, soft, and sensitive to his touch. He wanted your body under his hands, the scent of your skin, and the light whisper of your hair against his. Licking your earlobes, he tried to ignore the strain in his muscles and the hard, desperate pressure driving him towards you, toward madness.
An ache was expanding inside you and demanding more, craving him to flip you over and lose yourself in you. You clung to him, your eyes half-lidded, your face flushed. Your breathes were heavy when you said, "take me, Vash."
His eyes widened, and he stared at you like he might be going deaf and blind at the same time, hunching over from the effort of inhaling and exhaling. He said nothing and only looked at you carefully from the top, drinking you in. His pulse was wild, his mind racing. There was no way he could refuse you.
02:50 pm - July 21st
Vash stepped aside, and you pushed the sheets away when he asked you to get up. Soon you were standing in the middle of the room as he had demanded.
He couldn't look away from you and probably couldn't even hear himself think over his heart beating fast like a thud against his skull. Pinning you against the closest wall, he kissed you wild enough for you never to forget why he was called the stampede. His fingers touched every everywhere. Every bend and arc. Every pit and hole. Leaving gentle slaps and smacks on the soft skin of yours.
It was lovely to feel your soft curves against his rough edges, and somehow, the paradox between the smoothness of your bodies pressed against each other made the scene even more surreal. In order not to miss any precious time, he picked you up, and you gasped, shocked, and scrambled to hold on for dear life. He pushed the bathroom door aside with his shoulder and carried you into the shower.
He needed you. Needed this. Now. You could see it in his eyes, in the upward arch of his erection.
He drew a deep, unsteady breath before switching the tap on.
A short scream tore through your throat.
You two got soaked in cold water as he pressed your front against the shower wall, losing himself in you like never before. His kisses were more profound, more desperate, and his hands less considerate than before. The heat more explosive, and everything between you wild, raw, and vulnerable. His mouth devoured you. He had his lips all over your body, his tongue tasting new places.
With the cold tiles touching your breasts, a sensation of pleasure spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it, the bottom half of your body urging you to press against him more deeply and fully. He had to hear the pleas of every cell in your body because his next thrust was so intense that you had to hold on to the wall with your palms to steady yourself while your cheeks pressed more and more against the cold ceramic as he had his way with you.
You lost track of time.
You had no idea how long you had been here. You didn't know how long he had gone haywire in you. Your knees were starting to shake when he turned you around, and your eyes fell on his soaked hair sticking to his forehead and clumping eyelashes blinking slowly. You considered yourself lucky for not only seeing such a marvel but also tasting him and feeling him.
With such hunger, he kissed your lips like he hadn't had them in years. You felt the hard tiles press against your back as he pushed himself inside, without hesitating to move up and down. Over and over again, you were lauded, his panting echoing within four walls.
So many times that you wanted to open your mouth to protest, but every time he took one turgid nipple into his mouth. Heat surged through your blood as his teeth scraped over the end of one, and you moaned instead of complaining. You couldn't stop thinking about how good it felt to feel him inside you, his tongue twirling around your other breast.
The pressure was built. You were consumed by the need to reach the climax in every action. Your stomach muscles were tightening and quivering.
He moved his hands from your hips to your head, tangles of wet hair wrapping around his fingers as he pulled you upwards for a kiss. His tongue immediately thrust past your lips, and he increased his speed.
God! Nothing had ever tasted as good as Vash, you thought. Sensual, decadent, the flavor of him slipped through you.
His hands clenched tighter in your hair, and his teeth bit the flesh of your neck, but you barely noticed, barely caring about the hickey it would leave as he threw back his head, groaning your name. The sight of him in the throes of his peak drove you to the edge, your inner muscles clamping around his hardness, pulling him in deeper.
You cried out, clutching his shoulders so tightly that your fingernails dug into his skin, and your screams were muffled against his chest. The plunk of shower water running between your feet could be heard as your body shook, and he leaned his forehead against your head.
His hot released load was dripping and sliding down on your thighs when you collapsed into his arms, feeling weak and unsteady. He held you close to himself, tight yet so gentle, stroking your wet hair with his fingers and leaving small pecks wherever he could reach. "We should eat something," he said, kissing the curve of your shoulder and the sides of your neck.
You were intoxicated by the pure, stunning power of his emotions, endless waves of love and desire, love and kindness, love and joy, love and tenderness.
So much tenderness.
You pressed your cheek against his chest and held him as he braced himself against the wall. Your bodies were wet and heavy with feeling, your hearts pounding with something more powerful than you had ever imagined possible.
Water was dripping from the mess of his hair. So gorgeous, you thought. Then you forgot where you were and what you were going to do. Your arms and limbs trembled slightly, and he was too terrified to let you go.
Too in love to let you go.
07:15 pm - July 21st
As night fell, the blue haze of the day lifted and revealed the stars brightening the sky, shining like beams of happiness, appearing still as an old photograph. The wind blew Vash's hair into a tousled bun.
He walked out of his favorite shop and leaned against the wall with a big bag of donuts and an even bigger smile. Yeah, he perfectly knew he would eat cake, but eating donuts had nothing to do with it: a warm-up, just appetizers.
His eyes followed the long shadows of townies milling around under the flickering lamppost lights, even though he couldn't make out any faces from such afar. He liked this town. It was so small that his typhoon hadn't yet found it. Or maybe because he was a stranger here. Nobody knew him, and everybody was safe from the curse his name carried around.
Everybody but you.
You already had been spelled by those fifteen letters.
V-A-S-H-T-H-E-S-T-A-M-P-E-D-E
Taking a look around, he tried to find a clock on a building or something. The birthday boy didn't want to be late. This and, of course, the words you uttered before you left the house:
"Eight o'clock, Vash. Don't forget! Don't be late! Don't be early and wear that white shirt. See you there!"
He sighed and took a donut from the bag, careful not to stain his white shirt with his clumsiness. It smelled great. What a heavenly aroma, smelling like honey. This and you and this town. It sure felt good to see happy people around.
Without further ado, he took a bite of his sugar-coated donut.
He expected it to taste incredible and super tasty, like being alive, but he couldn't feel it. There was a sense of numbness in him. The weight of an unknown worry was heavy against his heart.
A muffled whistle-like sound echoed in the distance, followed by several. Another shot rang out, this time sounding like it was meant. Suffocating silence, creaking doors, and screams that tore the sky open.
He felt strangely dull, as if his connection with his body had been cut off. The bag fell to the ground, and the donuts scattered around. People were crying, weeping, but all he could hear was the wind's wails in his ears, slapping sharply against his face.
He took uncertain steps forward. The area outside the saloon looked like more than a graveyard. It was worse than he had expected. There were injured people everywhere; some collapsed on the ground.
From where he stood, he counted two men, one woman, and a child dead. Open eyes, mouths agape, fresh blood still dripping down limp bodies. Where were you? Something about that realization struck fear into his veins.
The horrifying possibilities flashed through his mind. His mind was blank as to what had happened. Were you okay?
Vash looked over the crowd, still staring, waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to find him. But you weren't anywhere to be found. In the chaos, he ran from one to another, people scattered around, and he didn't see you. The terror of this moment kicked him in the gut.
So many thoughts were tangled in his head that he couldn't untie the insanity. He glanced back at the doors you were supposed to come out, opening it with a smile.
He waited. He waited longer than was reasonable. Then he called you. Quietly at first, then louder. He shouted your name. His chest was being torn apart by fear, squeezing his heart. A part of him was afraid to speak the words aloud, fearful of making them true.
His legs felt like they had been formed from fresh clay, like he was moving through a fog. His voice reached everyone, pleading this time, running forward until the doors were in his line of sight.
"Is she in?" he asked, but no one answered. Everybody was frozen by the agony of the moment. All that could be heard were silent weeps and the wind howling.
Vash gulped, his throat all dry, and walked in; his lips parted, his eyes wide and horrified. The blood in his veins all ice.
Pain.
It began at his feet, bloomed up his legs, unfurled in his stomach, and worked its way up to his throat, only to explode behind his eyes. The sudden scream ripped itself from his lungs. It wrenched free from his chest without warning, without permission, and it was a scream so loud, so hard and violent, it broke his back. His hands were pressed against his knees, his head half bent.
Echoes of his misery would never be lost in the wind or carried away by the clouds but would always live between these walls. Forever.
His voice was unfamiliar to him. The horror, shock, and dread that flooded his body was something he had never felt — never known before, not like this.
The popped balloons on the walls. A half-ruined cake on the counter. Blood-stained confetti all around. A shoeless foot lying on the floor. Locks of tousled hair slipped from the makeshift shroud.
The numbness was now merciful, at least for a few moments. Then, everything crashed.
Vash fell next to the body. The knowledge rushed up in him, choking off his breath. Another scream tore its way out. Then another, and another. It felt as if his very essence had been ripped from him.
He pulled you into his arms, clutching you tightly, barely able to breathe. His fingers seized your hair and yanked it from your face. The golden strands of his hair fell onto your bloody face. You were called over and over, but it didn't seem like anything more than a sound. His pleas were like commands, begging you to open your eyes, but you ignored them as if playing a nasty prank.
Vash held both of your hands in his. There was no touch. All he felt was an empty coldness. The silence grew even louder, consuming him like a pitch-black shadow. Biting his lip, he tasted a faint metallic taste on his tongue. The desperation in his expression, the grief carved into his features, the way he looked at you as if he were about to pass the gates of hell and utter his last farewell.
Suddenly, he wanted to laugh one of those strange, high-pitched, delusional laughs that marked the end of sanity. Because this world, he thought, had a terrible sense of humor. It always seemed to mock him, making his life more miserable and ruining his dreams by destroying everything he ever loved.
You were dead. This pain was truly real.
Vash broke apart. Sobs cracked open his chest and cried until the pain spiraled and peaked; he bawled until his head throbbed and his eyes swelled. His fingers dug into your back as he called, desperate for a sign of hope. Your hollow body was clutched to his heart, and he felt the injustice roared through him. The feeling fractured him apart. His forehead pressed against your cheek, and his mouth trembled as he whispered, "C-Come ba-ck." The words fell apart. He could only mumble stuttering sounds.
He kissed your knuckles briefly. Would you have blushed if you were still breathing, whining about how cheesy he was being? He could only imagine your reactions now.
Hot tears streamed down his face, and he squeezed his eyelids shut in an effort to make them stop. He sat there unmoving for quite some time with choppy breathing and watery eyes.
09:00 pm - July 21st
Things were in a state of disarray in his vision. People were coming in with dropped shoulders and muffled weeps in the air. Someone approached and touched his shoulder for comfort, and a fierce unknown rage emerged in him. He could kill the man there but would have to let go of you, and he couldn't.
Vash turned his face back and held you so tightly like you would be able to feel the faint beat of his heart. He wept, cradling you, and he wouldn't move nor speak a word other than your name. It was like seeing the sun through the water. His tears fell, but you wouldn't be able to kiss them away this time.
"How dare you mourn her!" Someone bent over him. "You killed her!" Weak fists landed on his back but hurt him more than torture and shots. "She died because of you! You bring misfortune and destruction everywhere you go!" yelled Rosalina with a devastated voice.
Words, he thought, were such unpredictable creatures. No gun, knife, army, or enemy could ever be more powerful than a sentence. Blades may cut and kill, but words would stab and stay, burying into the future, digging and failing to rip his skeletons from his flesh. These weren't nice things to say. Not now. Not after what he was going through. Not when his white shirt was covered in your blood, and his hands burned with the bit of warmth left in your body.
Vash continued to hold you, silent and steady, even as the tears receded, even when he began to tremble. He had you tight as his body shook, held you close when the tears started anew, held you in his arms, and stroked your hair, whispering, "Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me." His voice was a terrible thing, cracked and broken.
He felt guilty. Anyone who got close to him was doomed to die. He thought his actions and inactions always took away his loved ones. Oh, stubborn, stubborn Vash! Of course, he would blame himself for something that had nothing to do with him.
The once happy eyes of Rosalina spilled hot tears on his shirt. "For two years, you lived among us, looked into our eyes every day, and lied about who you are, Vash the Stampede!"
Several gasps were heard from the crowd, followed by whispers filling the air.
Vash the stampede was here.
Chaos.
Questions flew, and weeps were muffled. Everyone was shocked, horrified, freaking out. You had long been forgotten, he thought.
"Is he the most wanted Vash the Stampede?"
"Were there raids in the saloon because of him?"
"The bounty hunters were after the money on his head?"
"They shot us and ran away because of this man?"
"This guy really had us fooled!"
"Is this true?"
Vash's reality was too broken, too distracted to process these kinds of talks. This horrible instant was one mess of insanity in his mind. He couldn't make any sense of it. He didn't answer a word to anyone and just stroked your cold cheek with as much gentleness as he could.
Someone shouted, "What's the hell's the matter with you? Say something. At least make some excuse!"
"Shame on you for bringing danger to our town!"
"We've heard enough of your crying!"
"At least have the decency and go die like a man!"
"No normal human being could cause all these horrible things! He had to be a monster! Who else could have been responsible?"
"Did you feel some of the pain of people who died because of your reckless behaviors?"
He was dying, he thought. He must be. He thought he knew what death was like, but he must have been wrong because this was a whole different kind of dying—a whole different kind of pain.
"That girl died protecting this demon?"
"She knew about the humanoid typhoon all this time." The man gulped and pointed at your dead body. "Our loved ones are dead and hurt because of her stupid devotion to this walking disaster!"
The scene was quite unbelievable, horrifying. His mind reeled, incapable of comprehending or processing what he was hearing. Everything in him came to a halt while his thoughts caught up. It was for him that you died. The shock brought a quietness, a moment to gird his soul for what would come. Truth poured gasoline on the spark of denial in his belly, burning him alive. It fashioned itself into a knife and stabbed him in the eye. And the funny thing was, he didn't want to do anything to stop it. Anguish was all that remained of you; he embraced it with all he was. He deserved it. So he bled with a smile on his face, wishing the pain to end him this time.
"If that self-righteous whore had revealed his whereabouts, not only would she be alive now, but the others wouldn't be dead either!"
Blackness seemed to press against his eyes, ears, and throat. He couldn't breathe, hear, or see clearly, and the suffocation of the moment was so terrifying that he was almost sure he had lost his mind.
How many insults can one person take before throwing in the fucking towel? For him, that number was infinite, but for you, he wouldn't allow even one.
He stood up and grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt. He pointed a gun at the infamous criminal, but Vash ripped the gun out of his hand. "What did you say about her?" he asked with a voice like a rusty saw that wanted to cut the bone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were burning in absolute rage. Nobody had seen him like this. Not once. People were so used to his calm and kind demeanor that this side of him scared them. If they wanted a typhoon, they'd get one. He was fortified with a new kind of anger, a desperate, animal intensity that overpowered him and forced him to stand still.
The man was trembling in his grip. "N-nothing," he finally said. Vash's pulse was racing, breathing heavily, almost like he would burst. The muscles in his hand tensed, causing him to crack his knuckles. Almost like a blazing inferno, his blood boiled in his veins, burning him from the inside out. He was mainly angry with himself, but that wouldn't stop his urge to hunt each and every single one of those bounty hunters, just to make sure they suffered and felt a lot of pain, just like he felt. No longer did he want to show sympathy to anyone. Maybe he was really a monster, wasn't he?
"If they learn your name and start haunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."
Recalling your words, his eyes widened, and his fist loosened. The man's face was devoid of color. Vash tried to read his eyes for something but saw nothing but terror in the end. He was afraid.
No.
Your race was merciless. How could they say such a thing about one of their own? This man probably deserved the worst, but you didn't want Vash to be cruel, only to be kind. And he couldn't do this to you. Because if he did and an afterlife existed, you'd probably be the only sad person in heaven right now.
Dropping the man on the floor, Vash crushed his gun in his hand and tossed it away. The stranger was groaning and hunching over when he returned to you.
It was the first time Rosalina had seen him like this, her brain unable to digest or process this information. Unlike the man she knew, this one had cold, sharp eyes only focused on you. The look on his face was different. Scary, even. Somehow that worried her even more. She might be sad for you, even hate her people for having talked disparagingly about you; maybe she would give them a piece of her mind and grieve your loss. Maybe. Right now, though, her child's safety was her top priority, and this blood-stained man didn't look very stable.
"Listen, we don't want to die! Leave here and never come back!"
Vash sat by your side, helpless, as if something had broken inside him and all his emotions had poured out. When you left him alone, did you take some part of him with you?
"Get her out of this town. This disaster would've never happened if you hadn't stumbled into this town. She'd still be alive," Rosalina said firmly, staring at your peaceful face like you were in a deep sleep.
Vash didn't answer or even glance at the woman who wanted to help you celebrate his birthday. Like an orphan, he pulled you impossibly close, your bodies soldering together. He pondered Rosalina's words and the night he saw you and wondered whether your life would have been different if he hadn't met you. Who was even capable of answering this? As he whispered your name and begged you for forgiveness, his tears washed the blood from your cheeks, and Rosalina felt something inside her die. As she watched him willingly take all blame upon himself alone, as if he was already familiar with this feeling, she felt something break apart inside her.
Vash resembled his wanted posters now. A tall man with blond hair covered in red, but this time, it was your blood instead of his famous coat. His hands were trembling so hard he couldn't even recognize them anymore. Even so, he picked you up, cuddling you in his arms, only to notice the hickey on your neck from hours ago. Pain cramped his joints, breaking away every single bone in his body. He wanted to shriek through the sky; he wanted to fall to his knees again and sob into the ground. He didn't know why the agony wasn't finding an escape through his tears.
"Think way back. Remember that story I told you? About the man that found a blank ticket that could take him anywhere he wanted? That man is all of us. Where you go is yours to choose. You'll always have that ticket in your pocket, no matter what darkness life throws at you. When you're ready, write down the destination. I promise you. You'll be alright."
He wished Rem was right, but there was no such concept as happiness in this world. There was only endless strife, destruction, and death. There was only loneliness, pain, and regret. Whatever he did, no matter how much he pleaded, no matter how much he wished with all his heart to make things right, life always had a way of taking everything from him.
It seemed like Vash the Stampede's life had peaked, and nothing that came after you would ever matter to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you, but he didn't want any after you. You were the light he never knew he needed. He was lost in the darkness, wandering life without direction. Then he found you, and you brought him warmth and light. You were the one who saved him. Twice and he couldn't do the same.
As he walked forward, he pleaded with his bones to remain steady, to carry him through the rest of the day and into the rest of his meaningless life. He passed through the crowd as if he had never been a part of them. The sand dragged under his feet, his knees weak, but he held you tight and walked away. His footprints grew smaller and smaller until there was only the empty silence of a long, lonely night.
Let's let him be for now. Everyone deserves to be left alone for a moment or two, right? Be that as it may, he always lost his most precious ones on his birthdays. Maybe it would have been better if he had never been born so that he would not have to endure so much grief alone. Or perhaps it was the way it was so we could be part of his life.
Author note: My real world had grown so dark that I didn't want to live in it. That's why I escaped and spent the day in a world darker than mine. Please accept my sincere apologies for dragging you down here with me ^_^
If you have anything to say, don't be shy to use ASK and the comment sections.
Disclaimers: This fan-written story contains quotes from "The Song of Achilles", "King Killer Chronicles", "Shatter Me" series and "Reminders of him" books, "Hamlet" play, and "I am unafraid with him" poem by pencap on Tumblr.
The arts are from "Trigun Stampede" anime.
#vash the stampede smut#vash smut#trigun smut#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x reader#trigun x reader#vash the stampede fluff#vash the stampede angst#vash x reader#vash x you#vash x y/n#vash the stampede#vash stampede x reader#tristamp#trigun fanfiction#trigun stampede#vash stampede#vash the stampede x y/n#vash our beloved#tristamp vash#trigun vash#trigun 2023#trigun 98#vash is babygirl#vash fluff#vash saverem
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Vash: Relax and be a good proton
You: What?
Vash: Stay positive love! *finger guns*
#I feel like vash ends every sentence with finger guns regardless of how serious or unserious it is#trigun hcs#trigun headcanons#trigun stampede#trigun#vash#vash the stampede#vash hcs#vash headcanons#vash x you#vash x reader#vash x y/n#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x y/n#vash reader insert#trigun vash#whispered_hcs#whispered_incorrect_quotes#incorrect trigun quotes#incorrect quotes
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vash pets your head to send you to sleep, but asks you something important before he does.
notes; 1.1k, very tender vash, tristamp coded, not proofread. wrote this in my car @ 2am, freaking out every two seconds bc was that a person or just my eyes? 👁️👁️
layers of dust reaching across entire sprawls of bedsheet was a normal thing you came across in every inn you visited. no man's land had a way of making everything inhospitable, from the unforgiving terrain of valleys of sand, stone and bleached bones, down to the crevices between slabs of wood underfoot filled with debris and the pillows under your head exacerbating dry fits of coughing while beige granules clung to your throat.
vash was far more accustomed to those conditions than you were, having lived that way for over a century—an earnest confession you still weren't sure you believed. like everyone else on this godforsaken landscape, you had learned to acclimate during your harrowing travels with him, forced to take the heat deep in your skin to your marrow, the dirt and sand into the brittle branches in your lungs.
"want me to shake out the sheets for you?" vash was always courteous, did his best to lessen the blow of suffering you endured while with him. from the beginning, he had never been comfortable with you there, tried running off more times than you could count, but you were smart and determined so he never succeeded.
he didn't wait for you to respond, finding that you were arranging your bags near the door in case of the need of a quick escape. maybe it was guilt or pity, but he slipped his fingers beneath the thin sheets and whipped them out until all the dust knocked off of them. "this place isn't as bad as the last one. you'll sleep pretty good tonight, I think. can you grab my sleeping bag?"
"there's plenty of room on the bed, vash." you didn't make a motion for his bags. in your hands now was a set of linen nightclothes. "give your back a rest. sleep on the mattress for once."
his look was almost incredulous, almost as though you had said something outrageous. "I won't make you sleep on the floor. I don't mind, really!"
"I never said I was sleeping on the floor." you said, inflectionless, eyes half-lidded from the weight of fatigue and soreness behind them. "we're gonna be out on the desert for hours tomorrow. I can't have you die out there because you wanted to sleep on wood."
certain arguments vash didn't try to win, this was one of them, namely because he wasn't actually interested in the floor. so, some thirty minutes later he laid there on the stiff, musty mattress with you, taking in all the smells of age and misuse in his dry nostrils while trying not to open his mouth too wide to suck in any sand.
"not the most comfortable." he mumbled, shifting onto his back after lying on his side for a few minutes. "you sure you want me up here with—"
"it's fine, vash." again, without betraying yourself with a change in tone, you reassured him. you said it to him with your eyes closed, facing him, your back flush to the wall to give his larger body more space. "don't worry so much. just try to sleep for once."
it didn't come easy to him, this you knew. inevitably, he'd be up and around the inn or just outside of it at some point. sleep was a mortal enemy and an elusive love affair to him, a challenging dichotomy that left him tired and worn most of the time. he felt all of it ache in his joint, drag his eyelids down, sit on his shoulders as though his sins weren't enough of a burden.
you saw it and you pitied him, though you didn't have the brashness to say so.
just then, you flinched hard enough to make the bed jerk when his hand touched your head. he apologized quietly, not removing himself from you and let the warmth of his appendages seep through your hair into your scalp, gave you time to familiarize with how it had so much weight to it.
"do you ever regret your decision?" he started stroking your head in short, smooth motions, flattening your hair against your crown. "regret traveling with me, I mean."
you weren't sure why he was asking this during bedtime, but coaxed you to crack your eyes at him, proving you were still awake. his made of brilliant azure we're looking back at you, somehow piercing through the inky night straight into you. they had an eerie, otherworldly glow to them, almost.
"I dunno." you are honest, unsure of the kind of answer he was looking for. did he want comfort, or was he going to try to bail on you again? it had been a while since he last tried. "I dunno. I don't mind it most of the time. you're a good guy, vash, you don't deserve to be all alone in this world."
his hand stopped, but his fingers splayed out a little more. the corners of his eyes started to narrow, crinkles forming in the corners. you couldn't handle how softly, so sweetly he was looking at you now.
"you gave up everything, though." he said, smoothing his hand along that same path on your head again. "you shouldn't have given up your entire life—your career just to…"
he didn't want to finish. your eyes were open fully, the whites of them glistening at him in the dim moonlight.
"you shouldn't have given it all up to be with me." it sounded so unnatural to him, like it was some unfathomable, convoluted thing he had had no business putting a voice to. "nothing—no one is worth that. I'm not worth that."
in these moments, you wished he would let you touch him. all you wanted to do was feel the warmth of your bodies meld together, wrap your arms around him so he couldn't leave you alone in that dusty, dark room, and so he knew he wasn't alone.
"don't talk like that," was all you could bring yourself to say, even though you didn't think it was amiss.
the shadows around his mouth deepened, his smile just a little higher than it usually was. his thumb moved towards your temple, callused pad stroking the skin there, tempting you to lean into his touch even more.
parts of you wanted him to kiss you, because you caught his eyes wavering at times, unsticking from your gaze to sweep lower beneath his thick lashes. you knew he was looking at your lips, and you thought that maybe you had made the mistake of looking first.
he never acted on that as much as you wished he would, but he did keep his hand on you until the gentle motions on your hair finally lulled you into slumber.
pls comment or reblog if you enjoyed! 🫰🏻
#vash the stampede x y/n#vash x y/n#vash x you#vash the stampede x reader#vash x reader#vash the stampede#trigun imagines#trigun x reader#trigun x you#tristamp#trigun stampede#trimax#trigun maximum#2k writes
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'You can hear it in the Silence'
Vash X Reader
Throws this as an offering for my absence
You weren’t sure how long the celebration had been going on at this point, nor were you sure how many drinks you had either. But they were enough for some courage, your eyes hardly left Vash he was being whisked away constantly. Someone wanted to thank him or buy him a drink. It had worked out for the two of you this time, saving the town instead of things going south.
You smiled every time Vash glanced over at you, a sheepish look on his face. He kept trying to make his way back to you, but someone always kept getting his attention. You looked down at your drink, glancing back up to watch Vash. He was talking with a woman, who was hanging on to every word he said. Leaning into him obviously.
Something burned in your chest, looking away with a sigh. You had no claim on Vash, not one that either of you had put a name to at least. Lingering glances, words not said, soft touches when no one was looking.
Downing the rest of your drink you stood, gripping the bar for a second to stabilize yourself. You needed air, the people and music were getting too loud. You didn't look back as you headed out into the night, you sighed leaning against the railing outside of the bar. The music and people, just turn into background noise. You shivered against the night air, hating that it would get so hot during the day, but freezing at night.
“You alright?” You jumped turning quickly to come face to face with Vash, you immediately relaxed. Leaning your back against the railing and crossing your arms over your chest, you glanced at Vash meeting his gaze shyly. “Just need a moment.”
He let out a hum coming to join your side, placing his hands on the railing and leaning forward, “Yeah it was getting to be a bit much.” Quiet settled over the two as you, as you keep stealing glances at Vash. You turned back towards the bar; the music was picking up again. “Do you want to dance?” You asked it suddenly it had even startled you, Vash picked up his head looking at you curious.
You sobered immediately, what the hell were you doing? Pushing off the railing you yelled out a never mind! You were going to back to the bar to drawn your sorrows. A gentle hand on your wrist stopped you, taking a breath you turned to meet Vash's warm gaze.
“Do you even know how to dance?” he teased gently, and your blushed face heated up. You laughed shaking your head, “Do you?” He shrugged pulling you towards him, you stumbled he caught you against his chest. You dared not look up at him, as he shifted his hands he placed his metal hand on your waist, grabbing your hand with his flesh one. You glanced up timidly as you placed your hand on his shoulder. He smiled, “You can stand on my feet if you want. Just follow my lead.”
Then the two of you were moving, you let Vash lead you in the dance and you followed every move without complaint. You held his gaze, as his own softened when looking at you. He twirled you and you laughed, gaining some confidence the two of you began moving quickly.
Vash swung you every which way, spinning you when he’d get the chance pulling you close every time. “So, you do know how to dance.” You teased; you took pleasure in watching his face heat up. “Erm, just a little!” You smiled shifting your arms to rest around his neck, he didn't break eye contact with you as he moved both of his hands to your waist. The two of you swayed in place,
“You trust me, right?” An odd question,
“Yes.” you didn't need to think twice about your answer.
You yelped as he dipped you, clutching on to him. Vash laughed loudly and freely, staring down at you. You huffed, before laughing. As he brought you back up, he began to move again. You had no choice but to follow, he gripped your hands and began to spin with you. Holding on for dear life, your world spinning around you, focusing only on Vash. He stopped suddenly bringing you into him, and you tripped, hooking your ankle around one of his you both tumbled to the ground.
You landed on your back, as Vash fell on top of you. He caged you in his arms, trying not to crush you with his weight. His face was so close as he hovered above you, on his elbows his one of his legs rested between your own. He was laughing and his glasses were nearly falling off his face, you could only look at him amazed. “Your beautiful you know that?” Your eyes widen clamping a hand over your mouth, Vash stopped and laughed looking at you with such a sad look it made your heartache.
Vash pulled back, but you grabbed him by the collar of his coat, your gaze panicked and voice shaky. “It's true! You are, I'm so lucky to have met you.” your mouth was moving faster than your brain your tone desperate you just wanted to stay with him here in this moment
You’re sure it's the liquid courage, but you move to get a leg around his waist and forcing him to his back with you straddling his waist he lets out a startled yelp, looking up at you dazed and blush the color to rival his jacket. You're still gripping the collar of his coat.
You stare down at him eyes wide, whatever you planned to say to him dies in your throat as you hold his gaze. He moves his hands to your waist, for a second you think he’s going to throw you off, but instead, he just rests his hands there.
“I think I’m the lucky one.” Your heart begins to race, the way he said it so soft, God he would be the death of you. Embarrassed by your actions you fall forward burying your head in his chest.
“Hey! Are you alright?” Vash’s hands fly from your waist to your sides and then to the back of your head.
“M’alrihhr just embraced” you mumbled shivering at his touch. God a part of you wished he just throw you off, a deeper part of you wanted to feel his wandering hands. What has gotten into you? You’ve never been so bold… you really did have too much to drink.
Vash starts to pat your head, “I think it’s time we head to bed.” His voice is soft and caring as it tends to be when he speaks to you. You agree maybe you are just really drunk and tired and that’s why you are acting out or something…
The two of you stay in this position for a moment you resting your head on Vash’s chest and him petting your hair. Trying to compose yourself even just a little bit you do find a way to crawl of Vash and get to your feet nearly losing your balance as you do. Vash stands next and he gives you a soft look you don’t know how to interrupt at least not right now.
“Okay… well I’m going to… sleep,” you say awkwardly turning around ready to walk back to the hotel, until Vash grabs your rest turning you around, he’s smiling it’s an easy-going one a real smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “The hotel is the other way.” his voice is teasing, and you’re just embarrassed all over again, you knew that the hotel was in the other direction… really you did!
Too lost in your drunken state to realize Vash is still speaking, until he says your name and it brings your focus to his lips first then his eyes that he’ll hide behind those mirrored lenses. “What?” is all you can manage to mumble out, “I asked if I could carry you,” Vash said his tone clearly amused, he can’t get drunk so when you do, he finds it only a little entertaining. Well, if you didn’t think you were going to die of embarrassment you were now!
“Yeah… please” You wished your brain worked faster than your damn mouth, he looks surprised at your response then he’s grinning and well you can’t say no to that smile. In this moment you two are standing in front of each other, him with a smile and you flushed trying to avoid his grin and his gaze. And then in the next moment, Vash is giving you a piggyback ride back to the hotel, his grip is secure he wouldn’t drop you even if gunfire rained down on you too.
You can’t help but tighten your hold around his neck, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “I’m really glad I met you…” it's whispered softly to him, but the moment the words leave your mouth he stumbles having to quickly adjust his hold to get a better grip. You hardly notice eyes starting to droop as a sudden tiredness takes over you, closing your eyes knowing Vash will take care of you and get you to bed safely. Falling asleep in his presence is easy, you swear he says something in return… but you aren’t sure as your tiredness catches up to you and you fall asleep still holding on to Vash.
#vash x reader#vash imagines#trigun stampede x reader#vash the stampede#trigun stampede#tristamp#vash x you#vash x y/n#LOOK i may have been gone but this man has never left my mind.#sorry yall i let the depression get to me ;c#vash imgaine#vash the stampede x y/n#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x reader#trigun x reader#trigun x you
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🥺
👉🏻👈🏻
Pet names for what vash and reader call each other? I have a feeling he calls her “petal” (get it? Cuz hes a plant?) or “little flower”. Some cute shit like that!
Fank you!
I think I'd instantly fold if I was ever called little flower. I tried to think of ones that are not only cute but would also have a bit of meaning behind them.
Vash's Nicknames for You
Petal. Simple and sweet, he often calls you this during moments in which he wants attention from you. Uttering the nickname in a low voice, sometimes dragging it out as a slight whine. The blond will also come up from behind, arms snaking around your waist as he buries his face into the side of your neck, whispering it into your ear.
Little flower. Vash often calls you this when in a playful mood and he wants to tease you a little. Saying it is also followed by a little wink from him, lips curling upwards into a knowing smile. Will also use this nickname to diffuse tension.
Darling. A more domestic nickname that makes his heart flutter every single time he says it, because he does see a future with you that is domestic bliss. Or, when the two of you are doing couple stuff together.
Sunshine. He calls you this so much that people start to think it's your actual name. Vash has witnessed a lot, gone through a lot, but then you stepped into his life. To him, you are the light of his life and the sun that keeps him warm even on the coldest nights. It's a nickname he holds dear to his heart, for you are the ray of sunshine that shines down on him during his bad days, when he thinks he's alone.
Starlight. He saves this one for the more intimate moments that are nothing but sensual lovemaking. With you in his loving embrace and his name falling from your lips with each thrust, he can't help but whisper it into your ear.
Your Nicknames for Him
Honey/Hon. You know he loves it when you call him this. A light crimson hue dusts his cheeks each and every time, and you can't help but chuckle as he smiles and tries to look anywhere but at you. You know he loves domestic stuff, so such a nickname is used every now and then.
My Prince/Prince. A sweet little nickname you always use each and every time you get into a little bit of trouble and Vash comes to the rescue. Even though he says he's not much of a prince, it still makes him smile when you say it.
Sweet Boy. Typically used when he's being a little needy for your attention or in a cuddly mood. Never fails to make him smile and bury his face into either your neck, chest, or back, depending on how you're cuddling with him.
Sweet Cheeks. This is the one you always use when you want to tease him. He can't tell whether it's his face cheeks or his other cheeks you're referring to, which is why it flusters him a little, but it's adorable and he really doesn't mind it.
My One and Only. Not much of a nickname, however, Vash is absolute putty in your hands when you cup his face and say it oh so softly to him. His eyes soften, lips slowly curling into the softest of smiles as he stares at you with such adoration.
#trigun#trigun stampede#trigun vash#trigun stampede vash#trigun headcanons#trigun stampede headcanons#vash the stampede#vash the stampede headcanons#vash x reader#vash x you#vash x y/n#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x y/n
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Hello! I’m new to the trigun fandom, old and new! I really love the redesign for Vash and I absolutely adore his goofy loving but low key dumb personality!
I was wondering if you would write headcanons for Vash and what type of person he would be attracted to? Not looks wise but more personality wise, cuz we know this man would appreciate ANY love given to him! Can definitely be gender neutral reader as well so others can enjoy themselves as well!
Thank you so much and I really enjoy your fics so far! I can’t wait to see the next chapters coming up!!
[ • ] Vash honestly doesn’t care what someone looks like. it’s their personality is that matters
[ • ] vash would be attracted to someone who shared the same morals as him, a pacifist.
[ • ] someone kind, caring, and sweet. he loves that in a person, but who’s also serious when the mood shifts.
[ • ] gotta be able to handle his goofy side also and his dumb side like sometimes they’ll get annoyed and grab him by the ear
[ • ] it hurts but he thinks seeing them angry his kinda cute
[ • ] they gotta love doughnuts also that is a must or it’s a no from Vash the Humanoid Typhoon
[ • ] doesn’t have to love children but that would be a plus. just watching them play with children would be enough to melt this man’s heart
[ • ] need’s to be someone he can go to for comfort when needed which is rare but when it happens he loves resting his head against their chest
[a/n: as in for the next chapter of little test of humanity; knives will slowly become obsessed and infatuated with y/n.]
#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x y/n#trigun x reader#trigun x you#trigun x y/n#Vash x you#Vash x reader#Vash x y/n#x reader#fanfic#fluff#romance#trigun stampede
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Miamochi!
Your Vash x reader writings are the cutest! Thank you for giving us such good content! I hope you’re doing well! Could you do a Vash x reader where y/n is trying to tend to Vash’s wounds and he refuses to because he’s self-conscious about his scars. So the reader resorts to showing they’re scars in the hopes of getting him to trust them? I seriously hope this makes sense and that you’re comfortable with it!
anyways I love your blog! Xx💖
A/n: Thank you so much for liking my content! And the way I put so much time into this request and using my old nursing skills into this. Hope you like it!
Warning: slight mention of blood
Scars to Your Beautiful
"Come on Y/n, I'm fine really," Vash insisted.
"Vash, you were shot at not too long ago, you're not fine!" you argued.
"You don't need to worry, I can take care of it," he persisted.
"Vash, I'm the medic in this group and you're bleeding from the back. Just please let me patch you up!" you asserted yourself.
You hardly ever argued with Vash, but when you did it was a battle of two stubborn mules. Neither of you were willing to budge or change your mind. All this happened because the military police stumbled upon your group when you were looking for some extra supplies for your next trip. You managed to lose them, but Vash ended up getting shot twice. One from the back and one at the front. Thankfully they weren't near his vital organs, but that didn't stop you from panicking. You immediately dragged him back to the hotel and into your room where you had him sit on your bed while your first aid kit was on the chair across from him. You managed to get him to remove his red jacket, but he refused to let you treat him.
"Y/n, please I can take care of myself," Vash spoke again as you pouted.
"Vash, last time you bandaged your wound, it didn't properly close because you didn't rest or clean it before wrapping it up," you pointed out. Vash flinched when you mentioned the incident before and he knew you were right about that.
"Still, I can take care of it now," Vash waved it off.
"Even the wound on your back?" you asked as Vash stiffened. You got him again, and you wondered what excuse he would throw at you this time. You sighed at how much he was refusing your help. If it was the other way around, he would make sure you get treated. But with him, you wondered why he was so set on not letting you help. You then placed your first aid kit on the floor and sat on the chair across from him.
"Vash…why won't you let me patch you up? Do you not trust me?" you questioned with a bit of hurt evident in your tone. He knows he's seen you take care of civilians who were injured and take care of Wolfwood's cuts and scratches from fights. Everyone knew you were more than capable of being a medic, but why was the one person you deeply cared for refusing your help? You then felt a hand on your shoulder and looked at Vash. You could tell his face was conflicted with many emotions, but the one that was more evident was guilt. His blue eyes locked into your caring e/c eyes. You could tell he was struggling to say something and finding the words to tell you. His mouth slightly opening, closing, and then biting his lip.
"Y/n, I- I understand you want to help. I trust you, it's just that...it's complicated," he managed to utter out as he looked away from you at the last part. He withdrew his prosthetic arm and folded his arms, almost as if he was holding himself. You cocked an eyebrow at his answer and his body language. Just what was so complicated about you trying to take care of him. You then tried to reach your arm out to Vash slowly and rested on his right shoulder. The moment your hand touched his shoulder, he flinched. This caught you off guard, since Vash was usually physically expressive around you. He would always take the chance to rest his arm around your shoulder or grab your hand to show you something he was excited about. So seeing him react like this with you was strange.
You retracted your arm back as Vash looked at you with guilt once more. It looked like he wanted to reach out to you with his flesh hand, but stopped midway. You thought about how he was acting towards you today, and when you touched his shoulder, you felt something odd on his shoulder that wasn't his prosthetic or the texture of his clothing. You decided to ask one more question.
"Vash, are you refusing my help because you're afraid of me seeing something?" you asked. Vash then froze and still looked away from you. But he wasn't denying your assumption. Furthermore, him turning his body away from you and biting his lip reinforced that idea. You had an idea why Vash might be hesitant with you treating him. If your hunch was right, you had one option on how he might let you, but it would mean getting personal with Vash. You stood up from your chair and took a deep breath. This caught Vash's attention as he was wondering what you were planning to do.
You walked towards your hotel door and double locked the entrance. You then turned to Vash and walked back to him. You then looked down at your jacket. You slowly started unzipping it to where it showed your sleeveless top. Then, you slowly lifted your top to show your midriff. Once Vash saw you lifting your top, he immediately turned red and covered his face.
"Y/n! W-what are you?" Vash asked. Before he could finish asking his question, he spotted something he never thought he'd see. On the side of your abdominal area was a long and slightly thick horizontal scar on your left side. On the lower right side looked to be several smaller but thicker scars. You didn't look up, but you could already hear the questions Vash was about to ask you.
"I had these for a long time now. I got most of them from being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Some were from escaping fights and others were from trying to protect myself. I didn't have any money to get the help needed. And since no one told me how to properly take care of my wounds, they didn't heal properly. I hated how much they stood out on my body that I kept picking at them," you explained. You never really showed anyone your scars for this reason, but you figured you would show Vash. Hopefully this would convince him on letting you take care of him. You then took off your jacket that revealed the top portion of your top. On your right shoulder, were three large scars that looked like something clawed at you.
"These scars are the reason I became a medic. I want to help people as much as I can and give them an option to be treated. Or at least prevent them from making the same mistakes I did. These things really haven't been the best towards my self-esteem," you dryly chuckled as you pulled down your top. Then you looked at Vash who just stared at you with those blue eyes of his. He wasn't saying anything, and the silence was agonizing. Maybe you overstepped your boundaries.
"Sorry, that was TMI. Just forget about it," you apologized while getting ready to bolt out of the room.
"Y/n wait," Vash called out as he grabbed your hand. You looked back at him to see his eyes filled with more mixed emotions. His grip on you wasn't tight, but it was firm enough to let you know he wanted you to stay. He walked you back to the bed as he sat down while you stood up.
"You have no reason to apologize. If anything I should...here," Vash started talking. He then let go of your hand as he started taking off his black top. Your eyes landed on his chest and your hunch was correct. There were large scars, metal plating, and seams covering most of his body. There were so many past injuries that you could tell he got from either falling, blunt trauma, or deep cuts from some kind of weapon. You knew Vash always ended up in dangerous situations, but what you saw showed how much hell he actually went through during his travels.
"Well this is a bit embarrassing, huh?" Vash sheepishly chuckled with that fake smile he flashed you. Even now he was trying to make light of the situation. You took a seat on the chair across from him and grabbed both of his hands. He looked at you as you squeezed both of his hands while rubbing small circles on them.
"Vash...that was really brave of you to do that. I know that wasn't easy to do, but thank you. I promise I'll make this quick," you thanked him as you began to work. You told Vash to turn around so you could face his back and handed him a clean cloth and instructed him to press it on his wound at the front. You needed to make sure to stop the bleeding as soon as possible. Once that was done, you readied the alcohol solution you carried and dabbed it on a few cotton balls.
"This might sting, but I'm just disinfecting the wound," you warned Vash.
"No worries, I trust you," Vash said quietly but flashed you a reassuring small smile. You smiled at him as well, but you braced yourself with what you were going to do next. Vash flinched once you started dabbing the cotton balls on the wound. You muttered a sorry to the blonde, but he kept brushing it off. Soon you added some antibiotic ointment and dressed the wound properly. Once you placed the bandage on him, you softly pressed it onto this skin and could feel Vash stiffen. Your heart sunk, as you knew how hard it was being vulnerable and having your scars exposed like this. You recognized the types of scars he had and how he might have gotten them. To think he hid them so well from everyone blew your mind.
You then asked him to face you so you could take care of the other wound at the front. This time his wound was located on the front side of his abdomen. Thankfully it was a thin bullet graze. As you worked, you could feel Vash's eyes on you. You figured he had a lot on his mind, especially after making yourselves both vulnerable.
"Thanks for letting me do this. I know this isn't easy for you. But I wanted to make sure you were okay and were taken care of properly. You've always done a lot for me, and I wanted to return the favor," you started but Vash stayed quiet.
"After seeing your scars, I realized two things about you. One, you care so much for people. You're selfless and willing to put your life on the line for them, and it just goes to show much you're willing to protect those in need," you spoke as you were cleaning his wound.
"The second, I still think you're beautiful inside and out," you added as you started bandaging his wound. You could feel Vash's eyes boring a hole through your head as you let out a soft smile.
"I know with my scars, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin for the longest time. So it took a lot for me to show my scars today, but I'm happy I did. We both took a risk today and we got to learn more about each other. I remember one of the doctors I was training under telling me that scars can tell a lot about a person and hold stories about a person's past. So after seeing your scars, I realized I'm not the only one with scars. Your scars show how much you look out for others, and that's what makes you Vash. I don't think any less of you. In fact, I admire you a lot more after today," you finished as you slightly brushed your finger against one of his scars.
You poured your heart out to him. He needed to know that after being so vulnerable with you on so many levels. You then started putting away your kit and got up from your seat ready to take your leave.
"I'm all done now. I'll make sure to change out the bandages once in awhile so they can heal properly," you told him. Before you could leave, you felt your top being tugged from behind. You turned around to see Vash looking at you with a face that said don't go yet. He walked up towards you with his eyes locked onto yours.
"Did you mean all that?" he asked as you nodded your head. He then pulled you towards him and held you in a tight embrace. Your eyes widened at the sudden action and immediately grew flustered after realizing your face was pressed against his bare chest. A red blush was plastered over your cheeks as your heart was becoming erratic.
"I'm sorry I was trying to push you away earlier, and that I made you do something uncomfortable because of me. But thank you for putting up with me and taking care of my injuries. It makes me happy that you don't think any less of me after seeing me like this. Also, after seeing your scars...I still think you're the most stunning person I've ever met. I'm glad to have you stick by me," Vash added as you looked up to see him give you a genuine smile that you knew too well with his eyes staring fondly at you.
"You think I'm stunning?" you asked as your face grew hot. You knew Vash was always sincere about his feelings towards others, but you wanted to hear it from him again just to be sure.
"Of course I do. It's another reason I like you so much," Vash replied as you had to do a double take. Vash chuckled at your actions as you tried to process what he said.
"Did I hear that right? You like me too?" you asked again as Vash brought his human hand to caress your face.
"I like you Y/n. I always have, and I can prove it if you let me," he said as you saw a pink blush rest on his cheeks.
"Prove it," you told him. Vash then smiled and gave you soft kiss on your lips as you closed your eyes. You could feel how gentle he was towards you with this simple but powerful action alone. You finally hugged him back as your hand rested on his side, while his prosthetic arm held the small of your back. Once Vash pulled away, you looked at him to see he was staring at you lovingly.
"How was that?" he asked as you still couldn't believe that he actually kissed you.
"Did I take your breath away?" he asked as you started laughing.
"You're lucky I like you a lot," you answered as you planted a tender kiss on his lips. When you parted again, you looked at Vash who pulled you in for a tigther hug.
"Can we stay like this for a little longer?" he asked. After everything that happened today, how could you possibly say no to him?
#vash x reader#vash x y/n#vash x you#trigun stampede#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede#vash the stampede x y/n#vash the stampede x you#trigun#trigun fic#trigun x reader#trigun x you#trigun x y/n#miamochi writes#trigun stampede x reader#trigun reboot#trigun vash
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NSFW Vash x F!Reader headcanons/drabble (Bottom Ver.)
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Y'all saw this coming. Now it is here. Let us rejoice. Not fully headcanons, not exactly drabble, it's more similar to the Wolfwood headcanon post where it's part headcanon/part fanfic, just please enjoy the feast. Warning: You gon' get sad, feel warm and fluffy, and probably get horny at the same time. I hope you're prepared for that roller coaster. (Btw this applies to both 2023 and 1998 versions)
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• You and Vash have been travelling together for a LOOOOOONG time. Like, enough to where you both know each other like the back of your hands, like you know each others' blood types, your favorite things, what you dislike, what the other is thinking, etc. (I like to think in this, you're also part plant, so you guys have been traveling together for the longest time, like 60 years or something, WAY before the gang showed up).
• You two were so close, people already thought you were dating or married. You'd have to explain that you're both just partners.
• but deep down, you wish it was more. And what you didn't know is that Vash thought that too.
• it was always a 'will they, won't they?' thing with you two. You two knew you loved each other, people could easily tell you two were in love, but neither of you thought the other felt the same way.
• you love how kind and protective he is, how he's willing to risk his life to save anyone in danger, even though that frustrated you to no end. You also love how much of a goofball he is, he always made you laugh just by being himself. You even love his dumbass moments, sometimes.
• Vash loved you because of how caring, strong, and sweet you are, you saved him from a group of bandits when you first met by finding him tied to a pole and freeing him, treating his wounds once you two were far away. Your hands were so gentle, he could tell you weren't a violent person.
• Vash loved your smile, your laugh, your voice, everything. He fell for you almost immediately. Like, hard. Smitten, infatuated, bedazzled, just head over heels in love with you. He could never say it though, for....reasons.
• you also loved everything about Vash. The way his hair shone in the sunlight, those smiles he always gave you each time you saw him, you even love that goofy 'love and peace' thing he always did.
• Milly was so happy that you were in love and wanted you two to be happy.
• Meryl wanted that too, but she didn't see what made you fall for that idiotic freak-o-zoid.
• Nick was going all, "Oh Jesus Christ, just PROPOSE ALREADY! I'll officiate it even, just fucking quit with the lovey-dovey shit, goddamn..." whenever Vash gushed about you to him when they were alone.
• Roberto said he didn't care and it wasn't his business, but deep down, he thought that as long as Vash didn't break your heart, he would give his blessing. If he did, he'd show up with a sawed-off shotgun. (You and Roberto had developed a kind of father/daughter relationship)
• everything changed one night when you and Vash finished helping people in a town and you both decided to stay at the inn.
• but it seemed someone already reserved a room for you two. Some priest with two women and a man drinking from his flask.
• you and Vash looked at each other and smiled, both thinking 'well aren't they so nice!'
• the issue was...when you got in the room, there was only one bed.
• goddammit, of course they planned this...
• Vash blushed and started to say that he didn't mind sleeping on the floor and wanted you to be in the bed.
• but once it was bedtime, you walked over to the bed, got in, opened the blanket up, looked at Vash, and patted the spot next to you on the bed. There was enough room for two, after all. And you didn't mind if it was him.
• Vash's blush got even redder and his heart started to race at the idea of being in the same bed with you.
• but after seeing your reassuring smile, he caved and got into the bed with you.
• you both just looked at each other, staring, both of your hearts racing and your faces were flushed.
• something deep inside you felt it was time, time to finally confess. There was no better time to do it.
• but neither of you could speak. You tried, but you ended up going silent.
• but you both inched closer to each other, your faces getting closer. It was like your bodies knew what to do, so they automatically did it.
• you closed your eyes, slowly leaned in, and finally...you kissed.
• it was a tender, slow, and soft kiss. One that wasn't intense, but oh, so full of love. You both melted into it and ended up wrapping your arms around each other.
• the kiss did start to get a bit intense as it went on, though. The soft moans escaping both of your lips drove you to the point where Vash got on top and where you started to lift his shirt and he started to unbutton yours.
• but all of a sudden, he stopped and broke the kiss, pulling back from you.
• "I can't..." he said breathily as his face started to look bereft.
• "Why?" You ask softly. You wanted to know what was stopping him. Was he scared? Was he nervous? Was it something else?
• That's when Vash started to cry, a few tears fell on your cheek.
• "I don't deserve you..."
• you were surprised, concerned, and confused at the same time. "Why don't you deserve me?" You asked.
• he then talks about how he feels he's not worthy of being loved, because of all the horrible things he'd done, including stuff he did before he met you.
• you knew about his past, but you didn't think any of it was his fault.
• but then you remembered something.
• you remembered a few times where Vash was forced to kill people who were threatening your life and/or other people's lives. He must've also had to have done that before he met you.
• then the memory of the time he tried to save you and another woman came to mind.
• a gunslinger grabbed both of you and tried to run off with you, but Vash wasn't letting that slide. He ran after the man until he got him cornered.
• Vash had his gun pointed at the kidnapper and the man had a knife to your throat. Vash knew there was no way to get you out of this without blood being spilt.
• so he looked for an opening and when he found it, he fired.
• but the man ended up quickly moving the other woman closer to him, using her as a human shield, fatally wounding them both.
• that broke Vash. You still could see him trying to fix the woman's wound and try to get her to stay alive. You remembered the woman putting her hand on his, stopping him, and smiling. You could still hear the painful yell he let out when she finally died...
• that night in your tent where you held him as he broke down crying, begging for forgiveness and begging you to not leave him or hate him was one of the most painful nights you've experienced.
• you knew he was a pacifist, never wanting to take a life. He understood that in certain situations in this world, it was necessary, but it still haunted him.
• no matter what happened, he almost always ended up with blood on his hands.
• That's why he felt he didn't deserve you...he felt he didn't deserve happiness and love for what he'd done...and it's haunted him all these years...
• you reach your hand out and caress his cheek while wiping his tears away with your thumb.
• you smiled warmly and kissed him again, as a way to comfort him, to tell him you still loved him regardless.
• once you both broke, he was stunned. He just stared at you and said, "Y..You still...after all I've done, you still love me..?"
• you nodded.
• he hugged you tightly and cried in your chest. In response, you held him close and petted the back of his head, letting him cry.
• you could hear him saying softly and tearfully, "I love you...I love you...please forgive me..please don't leave me.."
• you said you did forgive him and you promised that you'd stay with him forever, saying you loved him too, which caused him to hug you tighter.
• after a bit of hugging and crying, Vash looked up at you and you both stared at each other for a few moments.
• you both knew what you wanted.
• he wanted to repay you for your love and kindness and show you how much he loved you, you wanted to show him how much he's loved and deserves to be loved.
• and you both knew what could do just that.
• hey, sometimes sex can be a last resort to make someone smile.
• you said softly, "are you sure?"
• He nods. "As long as it's you, then...I'm okay with it.." His eyes said it all. He wanted you, needed you, and he didn't care how he got it.
• you pulled him to you and kissed him softly but deeply.
• During the kiss, you turned him over so you were on top of him.
• as some soft moans escaped your mouths, you both undressed each other.
• you then broke the kiss and see all the scars along his body.
• Large gashes, bullet wounds, knife marks, scars from stitches, and where his metal arm connected to his shoulder. He had been through pure hell just to save people.
• he always felt insecure about his scars, so he always kept them hidden.
• instead of trying to hide himself away, he just laid there, letting you look. It looked like he trusted you enough to where he felt okay if you saw them.
• you smile and kiss him again, this time a bit deeper.
• you could feel your lower half starting to warm up just from kissing this man.
• and you could feel something of his starting to grow against your leg..
• you broke the kiss to kiss his neck, then down his chest, then kissing each scar he had on his body, showing you loved all of him, imperfections and all.
• hearing his soft whimpers and moans of pleasure was music to your ears.
• "mm...ah.."
• you kiss down his abs, then start to go towards his groin, then you carefully pull his pants down and reveal his cock.
• you remember seeing it on accident once when he was changing, but never like this, and especially not erect and throbbing.
• you noticed how soft the skin felt in your hand, how hot it felt. You knew he wasn't human, so there was not a single hair in sight down there.
• it had a lovely reddish-pink head and a few visible veins, but they didn't pop out.
• and his size and length were pretty good too.
• with how gorgeous he was, it only made sense he had a cock to match.
• let's just say it's a 9/10.
• you saw his reactions were of embarrassment, as he covered his face with his hand.
• "You ok?" "Yeah..it's just...I'm shy..."
• with that, you started to gently rub the shaft.
• he started to breathe heavily and gripped the bedsheet. You could tell it felt good by the look on his face.
• you watched as a bead of precum dripped down his shaft and you gently lick it up, causing him to gasp softly.
• it was an oddly sweet yet slightly bitter taste.
• you decide to keep going and lick up his shaft slowly.
• you could feel his cock throb against your tongue and you could hear him moaning softly and trying not to writhe too much.
• "Y/N...*moan*..."
• you give the head a few kisses then you swirl your tongue around it, licking up any more precum dripping out.
• soon, you slide the head into your mouth and gently suck on it, to get his reaction.
• he gasped softly and he gripped onto the bedsheet harder.
• you slide more of his cock in your mouth, soon getting a good amount of him in your mouth without gagging.
• he starts to moan and as you suck, you feel him start to thrust his hips a tiny bit out of instinct.
• you start to bob your head up and down as you sucked on him.
• he soon put his hands on your head, cautiously trying not to grip, just keeping them there for purchase.
• soon enough, you felt his cock start to twitch and throb more and you heard him speak softly.
• "Y/N, I...I'm...nghh...HAAH..!"
• with that, he came, his cum flowing on your tongue and down your throat.
• you swallowed it all down, and if a few drops escaped, you licked them up because they tasted so good.
• he laid there, panting and trying to catch his breath. He saw as you licked your lips and he saw a bit of white on your tongue, which made his cock twitch and his blush grow.
• before you knew it, Vash had you lying on your back as he slid your panties down and tossed them aside, your cute pussy on full display.
• you had to admit, a part of you felt a bit shy about him looking at you nude. But the rest of you was too much in heat to really care.
• Vash grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs up so they were over his shoulders.
• then he dove right in and started to eat you out.
• but this wasn't in the masculine top energy kind of way, it was the 'pussy-drunk submissive femboy' kind of way. (..if that makes any sense)
• your mind started to get a bit hazy from the pure pleasure you were feeling, grabbing his hair to pull him closer to you.
• you could've sworn you heard him moan when you did that.
• this guy was addicted to your taste, like, he couldn't get enough. His eyes almost looked glazed over from how much he was lost in his desire.
• you softly gasped once he started to lick and suck on your clit
• he was relentless on your little bud
• soon enough, you felt your orgasm building up and then you saw stars in the back of your eyelids as you came hard.
• Vash's mouth was soaked with your juices and he drank it all up, licking up any drops he missed.
• now it was time for the main event.
• you had Vash lay back again and you got on top.
• you positioned yourself so your pussy lips would rub against the underside of his shaft as you bucked your hips.
• that's when Vash finally breaks.
• "Y/N, please...I can't wait anymore..please put it in..I want to be inside you so bad..please..I want you...I want to feel you..I want what only you can give me..please..!"
• tears are in the corner of his eyes, he was serious. Poor baby needed you so badly.
• How can you say no to that face?
• As you align his cock to your opening, he's watches with anticipation and amazement.
• and he sees as you slide him in with ease
• the shock of pleasure up his spine makes him turn his head from side to side, trying to handle the pleasure until he finally moans out.
• you couldn't help but moan too once you reached the base of his cock, feeling him reach so deep inside you.
• he puts his hands on your hips to keep you on, and also for him to hold on to something.
• you started to ride him, you started off slow to ease him in and soon, you find a pace that works great for you.
• both you and Vash were losing your sense of reality as the pleasure coursed through the both of you.
• it was like nothing else existed or mattered except the two of you, connected as one.
• it felt way too good..
• you can feel him hit the soft spongy bundle of nerves inside you that intensified the pleasure, causing you to moan more.
• and Vash was loving it.
• he couldn't help but thrust his hips to match your bounces.
• the pleasure was so intense that neither of you could say anything except moans.
• but it wasn't too long until he finally said something.
• "Y/N..! I..I can't..! I..I'm gonna..!"
• you tell him to go ahead and cum, let him fill you up, you needed to feel it
• with that, he cries out and cums inside you.
• each time his cum spurted out into you, your pussy convulsed as you came too, causing you to flinch.
• after a few minutes of the orgasm, you both relaxed and tried to catch your breath.
• you got off of him and laid next to him, not even caring about the mess you both made.
• you'd just pay extra for the cleaning once you left.
• Vash pulled you close to him and snuggled you close, his arms wrapped around you and his cheek resting on your chest.
• you pull up the covers and held him, your hand petting his messy hair.
• as you both basked in the strong afterglow, you hear him say softly, "Y/N..I love you so much..please don't ever leave me.."
• you kiss his forehead and say, "I won't. I promise."
• he smiles and quickly falls asleep, feeling so in love and so safe in your arms.
• you soon fall asleep too, feeling the happiest you've ever felt in your life.
• the next day, it wasn't long until the others found out about you two finally dating.
• the girls were asking so many questions because they knew you and Vash had done it by the looks on both your faces.
• Nick was just relieved that his plan worked. Roberto was just glad to see you so happy.
• later on, Vash had to talk with Nick about something.
• "Hey, um...if I asked Y/N to marry me..would you be able to officiate it..?"
• the smile on Nick's face said it all.
#trigun#trigun 2023#trigun stampede#vash the stampede#vash the stampede headcanons#vash the stampede smut#trigun headcanons#trigun smut#vash x y/n#vash x reader#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x y/n#trigun milly#trigun meryl#trigun wolfwood#trigun roberto#milly thompson#meryl stryfe#nicholas d. wolfwood#roberto de niro#my love for this man knows no bounds#he is my sunshine#god why can't he be real?#invitations to our wedding are still available#if anyone is interested#not really but i can dream#trigun 1998
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𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𓂃 ⟡
jennifers body au! (uncanny) vash x reader
cw: blood, gore, murder, corpses, cannibalism, kissing, established relationship, extremly ooc vash lmao hes literally insane here
a/n: WOAHHHH RAY ACTYALLY POSTING WHAT THE FUCK !! heavily inspired by @chris-continues i thank him for streaming the movie cause holy shit was it good! and it definitely spurred some.. thoughts of mine
“vash, that’s enough,” even while looking away from the scene, the rustic stench is almost too much for you to handle. it singes your nose hairs and makes you want to get as far as possible, but all you can do is pray this will end soon. “…please.”
you don’t even have to turn around to know vash acknowledged you. the sound of his jaw snapping back into place and the man’s guts dropping out of his hand onto the hard, cold floor. splat. you squeeze your eyes shut as the air shifts, eerily silent as he trudges over to you.
“are you angry?” vash creeps up behind you, reaching to touch you with his blood covered hands. cold, wet fingers slide under your chin, bringing you around to look into his eyes. “i’m sorry,” vash apologizes in a sweet voice, a harsh contrast to the crimson staining the pale skin of his fingers up his forearms.
“you’re not really… are you?” you open your eyes and look straight at him, blood splatters on his face, soaking into his silky, blond hair. you frown as he tilts your chin up, his attempt distract you and keep your eyes off of the fresh corpse behind him. he could tell you were starting to lose it.
“look— hey, i’ll make it up to you,” vash suggests, plastering a sheepish smile on his face, sharp, jagged teeth flashing. “kay?” he tilts his head innocently before sliding his hand up to cup your cheek, purposefully smearing red along your skin.
“you know i won’t hurt you, right?” vash purrs in a low voice, leaning in and brushing the tip of his nose against yours. and somehow, your fear simmers down slightly in your stomach, body aching for a different feeling. vash feels it, feels your body relax as he reaches to hold your waist, staining your clothes..
“that doesn’t make this is okay—“ you retort weakly, trying to move back to look him in the eyes, to prove to him how seriously wrong any of this is: the man he just killed, the life he just took. but he quickly presses his bloody finger against your lips to hush you.
“you out of everyone should know best how hungry i get,” vash smiles and leans down to press his mouth against yours. and god, it tastes bloody, feels too wet, too hot, but you can’t stop the way your body responds. passionately kissing back, tasting the blood from his mouth as he licks into your mouth.
vash is dangerous. he’s a murderer, a psychopath, a demonic creature that came about out of no where. but he’s also yours. yours to hold and kiss and wipe the blood off his face after he finishes eating. you’re not supposed to be scared but sometimes you can’t help it the way he mercilessly rips bodies apart, blood and guts spilling everywhere to sedate his uncontrollable hunger..
#vash the stampede#trigun#h4venpha#trigun stampede#trigun maximum#trigun 1998#trigun 2023#vash fluff#trigun vash#vash headcanons#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x y/n#vash the stampede x you#vash scenario#jennifers body
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THE BEST I EVER HAD
Vash x fem!reader
WARNINGS: Angst no comfort, dirty talk, car sex, faking orgasm, celebrity/fame AU, friends with benefits.
A/N: hello again 🩷 this time i bring a small Vash oneshot :) this was more like a practice with angst, so feedback is very appreciated! inspo is from the song 'The Best I Ever Had' by Limi, and from a prompt by @askgametime retweeted by @jelly-doughnut-drabbles that i can't thank enough for sharing! 😊 in this piece, i had Trimax/'98!Vash in mind, but it can also be Stampede!Vash :) hope you like it!
"'M so hard, mayfly," Vash moaned against your neck, his breath hot as the both of you held each other close, the desire burning between you two. The car you and him were in was getting hot, the air growing thicker every time you and Vash moaned and exhaled. The glass windows were condensed, blurring the shapes of yours and the actor's activities.
While one of your hands held the blond man tightly by his back, nails digging deep into his shirt and leaving light marks on the skin underneath the fabric, your other hand rubbed your clit furiously between your legs, the nub slick and slipping among your fingers due to the amount of lubrication your pussy was dripping. Sometimes, your wet fingers would come into contact with Vash's hard dick, drawing a small moan out of him.
He was rock hard, his cock dripping precum heavily, the tip an angry red and glistening with the amount of cum that was coming out. Vash thrusted his cock harshly against his hand, quite turned on by the sight of your wet pussy throbbing and begging to be fucked hard.
"Y-you look so good beneath me, mayfly... only for me." Only for him. And for nobody else.
You hated it.
You hated how you only belonged to Vash, how your heart belonged to him, but he didn't belong to you. He couldn't, Vash wasn't one to stay with someone for long periods of time, and his reputation didn't help his case. And you hated the fact you were seen only as a friend with benefits for the famous actor and star.
How many times did you cry to yourself at night, your heart soaring in pain at the distressing thoughts and realizations that Vash could never love you back in the way you wanted him to?
“Fuck, look at this tight pussy throbbing, begging for my cock," Thoughts broken by Vash's dirty talk, your pretty eyes focused back on the man above you, gripping his member harder than before, clearly enjoying the view of you below him.
Legs spread wide, your hand worked heatedly between your legs, although the delicious orgasm you were expecting before was now gone, taken away by the harrowing thoughts clouding your mind.
"Want me to fill that tight pussy with my cum? Yeah?" The actor bit his lip and you nodded your head so hard it made you slightly dizzy. "G-give this pussy a fat load of mine, breed it full with my seed." he moaned, gorgeous blue eyes shining with so much lust and want, but no love at all.
Sometimes you wondered, the sweet and calm nights you had with him, were nothing? The gentle aftercare and words of comfort after a busy night full of passion, sweet forehead smooches and slow lip kisses, gazes and looks full of love and affection; it all meant nothing to him? Did he forget it all?
Vash was a famous actor, winning the love of the audience with his charisma, optimism and a smile that was just like a ray of sunshine. His looks also granted him the advantage of going out with many women, something he adored and the tabloids loved it all; while it was something that stabbed you in the chest all the time.
You were with him way before he became famous.
A childhood friend and love, a love that kept growing since you were a child and you grew with it; an innocent and hopeful love.
An adorable boy, who always made you laugh and feel safe with; someone you could share your secrets to. You both grew, and you watched his acting career get busier and Vash didn't have time to spend with you anymore.
Loneliness.
You threw your head back in a wail, your fingers doing everything they could so you could reach the closeness of that peak again, but no matter how hard you tried, you knew your arousal was gone by now.
Tears fell from your eyes, the frustration of losing that orgasm and, most importantly, the pain of those feelings blossoming in a time like this, messing with your emotions.
"You deserve better than me."
No matter how many times he said it, how many times it repeated inside your head, you always came back to him, always ran after him. You couldn't let him go, no matter how much it hurt you, it was as if you were dependent on him. You needed to always see him smile, hear his voice, his moans, feel his touch, see him in pleasure and caress you in the most perfect way possible, knowing that in the end, it'd matter nothing.
No matter how many times you'd tell him you loved him, how much you craved his love back, he'd always reject your affection and repeat to you all over again "I'm not the best to you."
It broke your heart every single time.
"Oh, baby! Mayfly, I'm coming!" With a loud moan, Vash orgasmed above you, thick ropes of cum spurting from his cock. The warm seed rested on your spread and wet cunt, also falling on your fingers, covering the skin in its sticky consistence. His grip on your waist got painfully tighter, the hold he had on your body not as pleasurable as before.
Sobs ripped from your throat, and with a whine, hand gripping Vash's shirt hardly, you faked an orgasm, spasming your cunt for him to see how you 'came'. Your tears weren't of pleasure, but the drowning pain you felt in your chest, like a hand grasping your heart achingly.
"Good girl, g-good girl, Mayfly…"
He was the best you ever had.
#trigun#trigun stampede#trigun fanfiction#trigun x reader#trigun x you#trigun x y/n#vash the stampede#trigun vash#vash x reader#vash x you#vash x y/n#trigun stampede vash#trigun oneshot#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x y/n
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tw: nsfw ‼️‼️
Vash is the kinda guy to be nervous—hands shaking, heart racing, and oh God how do you look that beautiful??—about going down on you; the moment he tastes you though? Addicted. And he'll lap you up like a starved man. He doesn't even know where he is anymore, much less understand that you've reached your climax thrice and are hanging on the edge of detrimental ecstasy. Once you get his attention—roughly pulling his hair, making his head snap up with a delicious moan? He'll be on his knees apologizing, your own fluids dripping down his chin as he unconsciously licks his lips. And, God, does he really, truly feel terrible for being too distracted to listen to you and really, you should yell and hit him; its what he deserves, right? But you now have the most feared outlaw on his knees before you, tears in his eyes, your own cum all over his mouth, and a burning erection in his tight pants that you swear keeps moving on it's own. Are you sure you want this wonderful opportunity to pass?
#trigun#vash#vash the stampede#trigun stampede#trigun vash#vash stampede#vash x reader#vash x you#trigun vash x reader#vash x y/n#trigun vash x you#trigun x y/n#trigun x you#trigun x reader#vash the stampede x y/n#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x you#man#i wish he'd do this to me#if you know me in real life no you don't#I LOVE THIS MAN
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Gunpowder Dreams
Chapter 10 (Plan)
↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader
They didn't know a wounded man would show no mercy when they took the best thing he ever had away from him. What did they say? Don't poke the dragon if you can't take the heat; if you do, expect the flames.
Genre: explicit smut, toxic relation, romance, angst (Mafia au).
Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, sexual situations, dub-con, graphic violence, gore, angst, toxicity, gunplay, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, too many smut scenes, emotional trauma, and etc.
Song Recommendation: Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?
Note: Sorry for the delayed update. Unexpected events in life took place. I hope with this smut chapter, I can earn your forgiveness.
Chapter Index - Next Chapter
The darkness suffocated you; unsettling dreams bled all over your mind and prevented you from finding rest. You only had your dreams to give you peace, but now they had vanished, leaving you unsure how to get them back.
All you saw when you closed your eyes was Knives.
You kept getting cut over and over and over, with a knife in his hand, and Vash shot his brother in the leg and outside, the wind sang, but its high-pitched and off-key melody made it difficult for you to ask it to stop. The blood on your skin drained the warmth from your veins, leaving you freezing. The floor beneath you seemed to engulf you as you lay on your back. You could taste the clotted blood in your mouth, throat, and heart.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Yet another delightful adventure in the land of perpetual misfortune.
With a sigh, you turned in bed, your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and when you blinked, you realized the leather couch in front of the windows was empty, with rumpled sheets tossed aside. Despite the house having millions of rooms, he chose to sleep on the couch. You weren't sure why he kept you in his room or why he preferred the sofa over another room. You didn't seek answers or dwell on it. Having him in the room brought comfort, but he was absent right now.
Once again, a sigh came out of your lips.
Being in Vash's presence was like a rollercoaster ride. He was so used to solitude that each day spent with him brought new revelations. These discoveries weren't entirely negative; in fact, most of what you learned about him was endearing and harmless.
Just last week, you stumbled upon him in his office, listening to vintage vinyl records. While you had seen his collection of records before, stacked high alongside old books and artwork, but seeing him simply sitting and listening to the music was a new experience altogether.
He didn't even notice your presence when you walked in that day. He sat completely motionless, staring at the wall, and you later realized he was listening to a Johnny Cash record. You discovered this when you peeked into his office hours after he had already left.
Your curiosity got the best of you as you couldn't help but wonder why Vash kept resetting the needle to listen to that one particular record. You were determined to find out which song it was, and it turned out to be a tune called "You're My Sunshine."
You had yet to share with him what you had witnessed that day, as you didn't want to disturb his comfort in his own space. However, some of you wanted to unravel his past, uncover both the good and bad aspects, and lay bare all the secrets so you could be done with it because you believed your imagination posed a greater threat than any of his hidden truths.
But you were not sure how to make that happen. He wasn't exactly known for his communication skills.
The previous night, you had feigned sleep as you watched him enter the room, cautiously lighting a small lampshade to avoid waking you up. He silently took a seat at the table, unloading his firearm and arranging the golden bullets on a cloth. He leaned over and cracked open the window slightly, hoping to dissipate the scent of gunpowder, but the bold wind had other plans. It audaciously swept in and playfully tousled his golden locks, eliciting a bittersweet smile from you that carried a tinge of pain. Yes, even smiling hurt. But witnessing him find solace was a rarity; now, you were fortunate enough to experience it twice.
With a revolver clutched in his gloved hand, he diligently used a bore snake to clean the barrel. You recognized the process because, when your father still had remnants of his humanity, he had taught you how to assist him in maintaining his firearm. However, you were only a child back then, unaware that cleaning the gun meant he had likely used it to take someone's life.
Men and their guns. They all use them for destruction, and the man before you had even used it to make you—
As the old memory resurfaced, a blend of anger and shameful emotions welled up, stinging the back of your eyes. You closed your eyes tightly, unwilling to witness Vash's sinful ritual any longer.
As you glanced around the dim room, your sleep-riddled eyes scanned from the couch to the shadows cast by the furniture. The filtered sunlight seeping through the covered windows faintly illuminated the space. Amidst the shadows, a phantom-like silhouette took shape that wasn't there, with light blond hair, chilling green eyes, and a mole beneath the right eye—a vicious ghost.
Your grandmother used to say that if you dwell on the thought of the devil long enough, he will appear at your doorstep.
The floorboards made a creaking sound to your right, seemingly originating from somewhere in the bedroom. Your head swiftly turned in that direction, and you took a sudden, sharp breath. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end like a frightened dog backed into a corner. You held your breath, being cautious not to make any noise in case the sound repeated. Silence enveloped the room, an eerie stillness. Your fingers tightly gripped the duvet on your lap as your heart raced faster.
There was an intruder in the room. But how? How the fuck did Knives manage to evade the guards again?
After another creak, a distinct footstep echoed through the room. You cautiously rose from the bed, but as you stood up, a wave of dizziness nearly caused you to fall. You managed to grab onto the side of the bed, trying to steady your spinning head.
You made your way over slowly, masking the nausea coursing through your body. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, breaths coming in quick succession. With measured steps, you pressed your back against the cold wall. Despite your attempts, a trembling breath managed to escape. Your chest heaved as you took rapid, shallow breaths while the echoing footsteps reverberated from an unfamiliar location.
You stood frozen, your back melding into the wall as if you were one with it, rendering you immobile and unable to hide. However, you refused to become a victim once more. Determined, you knew you had to find a sharp object. With urgency, you sprinted towards the wooden nightstand by the bed, frantically rummaging through the drawers in search of a knife, a gun, or any means of defense.
But you suddenly stopped.
One of the drawers contained a collection of origami made from napkins, which you had previously crafted. It struck you as odd that Vash had kept these seemingly insignificant origami pieces while discarding the plates he used to bring you donuts.
With hands trembling, you shut the drawer and turned your attention elsewhere in search of a weapon. However, in your state of unease, you accidentally collided head-on with something solid.
Something human.
Male.
You heard him sharply inhale, felt his hands stabilize your body, and sensed the blood draining from your face, leaving you weak and lightheaded.
"Vash," you exclaimed, struggling to catch your breath. You went through the familiar motions, just as you always did. Your heart skipped a beat, then raced uncontrollably, your breath became shallow, and your palms grew sweaty. No matter how many times you encountered him, he consistently evoked the same response from you: a mix of fear and excitement. You couldn't quite explain why it excited you.
Something had to be amiss with you. It wasn't ordinary for fiery warmth to surge through your veins in such conditions, leaving a tingle in its wake.
He refused to release his grip on you. You could hear the rapid, forceful thumping of his heart in the quiet space between you. He remained incredibly still and tense as if he were struggling to maintain control over his own body.
Your heart was giving out. "It was you—"
"What are you searching for?" he whispered, his words strained as if he struggled to breathe. His eyes, an unusual shade of blue, captured your attention even in the darkness—they were stunning, crystal clear, and had a penetrating quality that was somewhat unsettling. His hair was thick, a lustrous hue of gold, and his physique appeared slender and unassuming, yet his grip conveyed effortless strength.
"I thought someone was in the—" you trailed off, abruptly stopping your words. Vash stood before you, clad in nothing but a towel. A TOWEL! The embarrassment swept over you, and you wished you could simply disappear, perhaps even roll under the bed to avoid the awkwardness.
The voice you heard came from him. He had just stepped out of the shower, appearing as if he had hurriedly done so because of you. Water droplets cascaded from the tips of his hair onto his shoulder blades, trickling down towards his chest and well-defined abdominal muscles.
Vash maintained a deliberately neutral expression, his voice unaffected as he assured, "He won't return to this house again."
For a brief moment, it was hard to fathom that you were still standing there, gazing at Vash, who was wearing nothing but a towel. It wasn't easy to take the situation, or even yourself, seriously.
"You kept those origamis."
There it was. A flash of anger. In and out. Vash's eyes flickered with intensity, then settled. He shifted his gaze towards the wall, remaining silent for a moment. "Yes," he murmured, his voice calm and composed.
"I didn't intend to rummage through your belongings."
He said nothing.
"I was searching for something sharp to defend myself against the person hiding in the room." The words slipped effortlessly from your mouth. What surprised you even more was the need to vocalize them, to reassure Vash that you hadn't invaded his privacy.
"I couldn't care less if you get bored and snoop around my stuff," he stated dismissively, walking past you without making eye contact. "My mother used to craft origami. They reminded me of her." His voice was chillingly cold. You observed as he opened the drawer, clutching the towel around his waist with one hand, and crushed all the origami in his wet fist. " But she's dead now, so it holds no significance anymore." With that, he returned to the bathroom and flushed them down the toilet right before your astonished eyes.
You couldn't quite understand why you felt a pang of hurt, considering those napkin origamis held no particular significance to you. However, witnessing him collect and preserve them in the drawer beside his bed stirred something tender in your heart. Unfortunately, as always, you couldn't shut up and ended up ruining the moment.
However, you were now aware. This man would go to any lengths to eliminate anything that could be perceived as a weakness.
He emerged from the bathroom and proceeded towards his walk-in closet, disregarding your gaze. You continued to watch him as he dropped his towel, exposing his bare buttocks to your view. You gulped as a hot sensation enveloped you, and your eyes shamelessly roamed from his butt cheeks to the muscles of his thighs, finally settling on his calves.
Who did sculpt this man?
Vash had everything going for him in the looks department. He was hot as sin, with a stunning body and killer charm. You almost drool, but when he caught you stealing a glance, you hastily averted your gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the fantastic sheets.
Sheets? Seriously? Huh!
"You know, it's pretty rude to be snooping on people, love."
Embarrassment flooded your face, heating your cheeks, as you were caught in such a juvenile act. Suddenly, you felt utterly clueless about what to do with your hands. Your thoughts raced, overtaken by self-reproach. What the heck was wrong with you? The overwhelming urge to hide and disappear consumed you. You sprinted to the bathroom, securing the door with two locks. Leaning against the door, you slid down until you sat on the cool, black-tiled bathroom floor.
Stop grinning, stupid girl!
*
Another day in the never-ending circus of misery.
The gentle afternoon sunbeams lazily brushed against your cheeks, almost as if teasing you. Squinting your eyes, you peered out the window. It was chilly outside, yet the usual forecast of rain seemed absent for the day. The Gods above were like twisted demons, mocking you by making such a gloomy day appear this beautiful.
Ugh! Why—
No!
Wait a damn minute!
Vash stood in the yard, and you were aware of this because you could see him from behind the curtain. He wore a tailor-made shirt that hugged his figure, a black shade so deep that it nearly dazzled. His shoulders were embraced by a charcoal gray coat, fifty shades darker than coal, while his golden spiked hair contrasted the somber autumn surroundings. Black pants adorned his legs, accompanied by black leather gloves and matte black boots.
He appeared flawless, particularly amidst the grimness of the dirt and decay, encompassed by the dreariest hues this scenery could present. He stood as a striking figure, his eyes adorned in shades of deep blue and turquoise, casting a captivating silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun in a stunningly beguiling manner.
He could be glowing.
That could be a halo around his head.
This could be the world's way of making an example out of irony.
Vash possessed a beauty that surpassed even your most attractive ex-partner. He was far from being human; every aspect of him was extraordinary and unconventional.
He looked around, his eyes shielded by purple round sunglasses, and a gust of wind momentarily revealed the holster strapped to his right leg as his coat flapped open. He didn't even step into his own yard without his gun. The irony!
The men surrounding him appeared to be awaiting instructions, anticipating something, and you couldn't tear your eyes away. A strange thrill coursed through you, being in such proximity yet still distant. It felt like an advantage, being able to observe him unnoticed.
He was a strange, strange, unhinged man. You weren't sure if you could ever forget what he had done to you, the way he had made you feel, and the intense desire to bring harm upon him. The urge to despise him indefinitely lingered within you, but it was gradually weakening. He had abducted you, callously exposing you to danger, and vanished while his brother subjected you to repeated torment. Yet, he also took it upon himself to mend the shattered fragments afterward, carefully gathering and reassembling them—as janky as it was. You wanted to harbor hatred towards him but found yourself at a loss as to how to do so anymore.
You had no clue about who he truly was—actually, you never had much knowledge regarding how he spent his days unless he was in your company. Even now, you remained clueless about his purpose for being there.
He eventually uttered a few words to the men, and they nodded in swift agreement before running around. You retreated entirely behind the curtains, making sure to stay hidden. You positioned yourself at an angle, ensuring he wouldn't catch sight of you even if he happened to glance in your direction.
Vash removed his glasses and ran his hand across his face, briefly covering his eyes before his hand settled on his mouth as though he held something he couldn't bring himself to say.
Suddenly, he seemed tired. His eyes appeared somewhat … sorrowful, although you were convinced you were just reading him wrong. You observed him as he observed those around him, paying close attention to notice that his gaze lingered on the red Geranium flowers, fighting to survive in the harsh weather. You attempted to decipher Vash's expression as he stared at them, but he was always careful to keep himself completely neutral. He remained like a statue in the wind, doing nothing more than blinking.
A stray dog headed straight toward him. Suddenly, fear gripped you. You felt concerned for the poor creature, a weak little animal that had mistakenly wandered into the wrong place, searching for morsels of food to stave off hunger for a few more hours.
Your heart began racing in your chest, pumping blood too quickly and forcefully. A sense of impending doom washed over you, leaving you with an unexplainable feeling that something dreadful was on the horizon.
The black dog dashed straight into the back of Vash's legs as if it had impaired vision and couldn't see its path clearly. It panted heavily, its tongue hanging to the side, seemingly unsure how to retract it. The dog whined and whimpered slightly, leaving saliva all over Vash's impeccably fine pants. You held your breath, anxiously awaiting as the golden man turned around.
You half expected he might draw his gun and shoot the dog directly in the head, having witnessed him do such a thing to a person before. However, upon seeing the dog, Vash's countenance underwent a transformation. His flawless facade fractured, revealing cracks in his otherwise perfect demeanor. Surprise elevated his eyebrows and widened his eyes if only for a fleeting moment, providing you with ample opportunity to take note of it.
He looked around, his eyes shifting as they surveyed his surroundings before he gently scooped the animal into his arms. You felt a sudden desperation to witness his next actions, and your anxiety heightened, making it difficult to catch your breath.
You had witnessed the extent of Vash's capabilities when it came to harming another person. You had observed his callous heart, his emotionless eyes, and his complete indifference. His composed and collected demeanor remained unshaken even after he took a life without hesitation. Now, you could only speculate about what he might have in store for an innocent dog.
You felt an urgent need to witness it firsthand. You had to dispel the notion of him being a good person from your mind, and this was the perfect opportunity. It would serve as evidence that he was sick, corrupted, completely in the wrong, and would forever remain so.
You had to see what he was going to do to the helpless animal when a familiar voice called out from behind you, causing you to freeze in your tracks.
"Having an absolute blast, aren't we?" Bradd remarked sarcastically. "This room conveniently provides the ideal windows for our top-notch boss surveillance operations."
You quickly turned your head, giving him a sharp glare. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and shrugged nonchalantly upon noticing your reaction. He proceeded, "I knocked on the door multiple times. However, it seems you were so absorbed in your mission that you didn't notice, and I had to come in without an invitation."
Bradd moved until he stood beside you, and his presence tightened the knot forming in your stomach. T There was an ice-cold fortress shrouded around him, as palpable as the tension in his shoulders. It felt as though he was creating a distance between you, as if you were about to be sent off to war, and he believed he would never see you again.
On certain days, you resented him for assisting the twins, but deep down, you couldn't deny the truth that he was a good man. He had become your emotional support in recent months, and you had started to understand his character. He belonged to the category of men who prioritized only their own family, and anything beyond that circle? Held no significance to him.
At the moment, you were an outsider who had disrupted their usual order, akin to a parasite, just as he had described.
You turned your head, and your eyes widened at the sight of Vash crouching on the ground, using his hands to feed something to the dog. The trembling, bony body of the animal was nestled inside Vash's open coat, seeking warmth after enduring the cold for so long. The dog wagged its tail vigorously, briefly making eye contact with Vash before diving back into the cozy refuge of his coat. You heard Vash laugh, a sound you had rarely witnessed. It was a laughter that seemed to transform him into a completely different person, the kind of laugh that put stars in his eyes and dazzled his lips.
You realized you had never seen this side of him before. You had never glimpsed his teeth, so impeccably straight and white, an embodiment of perfection.
A flawless, flawless exterior for a man with a black, black heart.
It was almost inconceivable that the person you were staring at had blood on his hands. He looked soft and vulnerable—so human. His eyes squinted from his wide grin, and his rosy cheeks bore the marks of the chilly weather. Even his dimples were visible, adding to his overall charm.
He was undeniably the most breathtaking sight you had ever encountered. And yet, you wished you had never laid eyes on him, for something within your heart was tearing apart at the seams. You struggled to comprehend the image before you, as you desperately needed him to be wicked so you could revert to hating him. However, he defied your expectations. You didn't want to see Vash like this. It felt wrong, yet in some inexplicable way, it also felt right.
You believed that the revelations had ended, but you were mistaken once again. This realization left you pondering the extent of what remained unknown and how much more you would discover about Vash in the days and months ahead.
And it scared you.
Because the more you uncovered about him, you found fewer excuses to distance yourself from him. The image you once had of him was transforming right in front of your eyes, becoming something that terrified you in ways you never could've expected. Amid so much uncertainty, all you could think was that it wasn't the right time. It wasn't the right place. Not when there were still so many problems around.
If only your emotions could grasp the significance of perfect timing.
You released a sigh, frustrated with your own indecisiveness. Although you couldn't ignore your physical attraction towards him, you struggled to let go of your initial perception of his character. It wasn't easy for you to abruptly shift your perspective and view him as anything other than a manipulative monster. You required time to adapt to the idea of accepting Vash as a normal human.
"The dog," Bradd interrupted, returning you to the present. "Nicholas used to take care of that dog, but we hadn't seen her around for quite some time until a few days ago," Bradd explained. "Seems like Angelica has taken a liking to Vash as well." Bradd glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and you found yourself perplexed, trying to comprehend why he continued to smile at you even after he averted his gaze. Flustered and feeling strangely embarrassed, you scrambled to find something to say.
"Is there anything you need from me?" you inquired, keeping your gaze fixed on Vash as he affectionately rubbed the dog's head and chuckled, trying to avoid eye contact with Bradd.
"Hm?"
You shifted your attention to Bradd. "You're here. Did you come for small talk?"
"Oh," Bradd responded, scratching the back of his neck while sporting a smile. The creases forming at the corners of his lips and eyes revealed his age. You wondered whether he had a family and if they were aware of his association with mafia freaks.
"I came to see how you're doing and to let you know that Vash wants to meet you in the living room. If you need to change, I'll wait here to accompany you. I know you've likely become familiar with the layout of this house through your very successful attempts to flee, but I still want to ensure you don't wander into the wrong rooms," he said, winking.
You bit your tongue to refrain from responding with more sarcasm than his.
*
Vash couldn't hide his surprise when he walked into the living room. As you glanced up, you finished the remaining Vodka in your glass. "Apologies for once again getting into your alcohol," you said to him, and he blinked in response.
"You're feeling better."
You nodded over your shoulder. "I was thirsty, and the drinks were there while you ran late."
"Yes," he replied, speaking slowly and cautiously.
"So I had a few shots."
"I can tell," Vash remarked, remaining stationary near the stairs, his gaze fixed upon you. He didn't utter a word but slowly advanced into the living room, removing his coat and delicately placing it over an armchair. He retrieved a gun from his holster and another from his back, deliberately positioning them on the table beside your empty vodka glass.
"I want to hurt your brother, Vash Saverem," you blurted out abruptly. It startled you to realize how much you had transformed over the past few months. You felt like an entirely different person—more audacious, hardened, and, for the first time, willing to acknowledge your anger. It was a liberating experience.
"Are you—" he shook his head, then apologized, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
You looked up, feeling the weight of Vash's stare. He appeared captivated as if intrigued by your words. If he didn't fully grasp your meaning, you were prepared to express it differently. "I need revenge," you stated firmly, or that's what you thought.
He took a seat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and intertwining his hands. A wide, amused grin spread across his face, radiating a genuine sincerity that struck you like thunder. Something pricked at your eyes and weakened your knees. "How do you plan to accomplish that, love?"
"I've got plans."
"Is that so?" He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, and couldn't help but maintain a constant smile.
"Yes," you replied, growing increasingly irritated. Vash didn't seem to be taking you seriously, likely attributing your seriousness to being drunk. While you were indeed drunk, you were also very, very serious.
Vash waited, observing your annoyed expression, and nodded once, signaling you to continue.
A familiar, intoxicating buzz settled in your stomach, amplified by the alcohol swirling within your empty belly. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and your mouth felt parched as if you had swallowed sand. "Your brother—"
"You can't even speak his name yet talk about revenge?"
You attempted to conceal your surprise, but now you found yourself uncertain why you hesitated to utter his name. Perhaps it was because you feared that he would suddenly materialize, much like summoning a devil by speaking his name.
You slid your empty glass towards Vash, indicating that you wanted him to refill it. Vash glanced at you, and what looked like concern was clouded in his pretty eyes.
"If you want me to mention his name, hand me the bottle," you declared, snatching the vodka bottle from his grasp before taking a large gulp. The taste made your face contort, reaffirming your belief that alcohol tasted like shit when it wasn't mixed with something. You'd die on that hill. However, you did appreciate the burning sensation as it traveled down your throat, spreading warmth throughout your body.
"Knives," you said the name, taking a deep breath. Remembering the adage that fear of a name only heightens fear of the thing itself, you decided to defy that fear. So fuck him and his name! "Are you content now?"
He let out a snort. "Do you honestly believe that you can simply stroll out of this room," Vash said to you, "knock on Knives' door and shoot him in the head?"
Yes. "No."
"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Vash said softly, and you glared at him. "My brother isn't here," Vash continued. "He's gone to deal with a business complication elsewhere."
"He's not here?" you questioned.
"No," Vash responded, his smile fading. "And that's precisely why I wanted to speak with you." He picked up a larger glass from the table and poured himself a whole serving of Bourbon, likely his preferred drink. He downed the bitter liquor in a single gulp, then refilled the glass. He pressed the glass against his lips with his gaze fixed on you. "I need you to be gone until he returns," he said, closing his eyes as he swallowed the entire contents of the glass.
"What?" Your heart picked up so quickly that you thought you might be experiencing a heart attack.
"You heard what I said."
"No," you declared, shaking your head. It's often said that you can't repeat the same mistake twice; for the second time, it becomes a choice rather than a mistake. Therefore, this was your decision.
"Bradd will help you. It's up to you whether you want to return to your father's house or forge a new path for yourself. If you opt for the latter, I'm ready to offer my support—"
"I JUST TOLD YOU I WANT TO GET MY REVENGE!"
"How?" Vash scrutinized you intently. "How do you plan to reach my twin? How will you confront him?"
"I already told you I have plans!" you exclaimed, clenching your fists. "But I require your help," you whispered, filled with both fear and a glimmer of hope. You caught Vash's gaze from across the table. "What if I exploit Knives' vulnerability?" you asked, raising your eyebrow slightly.
"That seems unlikely."
"Why do you think that?" you said, feeling desperate. "Even if there's the slightest chance—"
Vash sighed and ran his hand through his hair, disheveling his perfectly spiked hair. "He doesn't have any weaknesses. If there were any, I would have discovered them long ago. You wouldn't be making such statements if you knew him like I do. Hope will only break your heart all over again."
You dug your nails into the leather that you feared it might rip. However, you resisted the urge. You were well aware of the threats you had heard and your chosen path. "I am an outsider," you found yourself saying. "Maybe I can perceive things more clearly than you—"
"Love—"
"Dammit, Vash! I have to give it a shot. You have to understand—"
"This is not good for you," he avoided eye contact. "It's dangerous for you to believe anyone could harm Knives."
You stared at his resolute and unwavering profile while he focused on his hands. "In the worst-case scenario, I might end up dead. You have nothing to lose, so why won't you allow me to pursue it?" you whispered.
He rubbed his forehead. "I have numerous conflicts to deal with in the coming days," he said, his voice tense. "I have meetings to attend and negotiations with people even worse than my family." He took a deep breath, the air feeling constricted. A weighty silence hung between you. "I understand that you are now afraid of even your own shadow," he continued, his voice filled with concern. "You struggle to sleep, and I know my presence makes you uncomfortable. However, I can't leave you alone anymore. I've lost my trust in Knives. So, I'm granting you your freedom once again. But this time, I'll ensure you truly are leaving. I'm making this decision for your well-being."
"Oh." A pause. Was he sleeping on the uncomfortable couch because he was worried about you?
"Yes," he said—another pause.
"Or," you said to him, "I remain here, and you use me for whatever plan you have involving my father—"
"I don't have any plans regarding that," Vash replied melancholic.
"Fortunately for you, I have made plans, and in exchange, you will allow me to seek revenge against your brother, I mean Knives. I am prepared to face the consequences on my own."
Vash fought a smile but couldn't hold it back. He glanced downward, letting out a small laugh, before locking eyes with you. He shook his head.
"What's so funny?"
"My lovely girl."
"What?"
"I've been waiting for this moment for quite a while now."
"What do you mean?"
"You're finally ready," he remarked. "You're finally ready to fight back."
Shock surged through you. "Of course I am," you replied. In an instant, memories of the unbearable pain and the horrifying fear of being brutally attacked flooded your mind. You hadn't forgotten any of it, but you realized that if you wanted to find peace, you needed to momentarily set aside your animosity toward Vash. Because now that you were prepared to fight, you felt a sense of empowerment like never before. You marveled at how different you felt and how different you knew things could be. You had a lot of things to do, so many scores to settle, and a big revenge to exact.
Everything had changed. The child you once were had succumbed to her foolishness. It was your turn to engage in this game on your terms, and you were not afraid of cheating.
No matter what lay ahead, there was no going back for you now. There were no other choices. "I forge forward or die."
Vash burst into laughter, his expression bordering like he might cry.
"I will cause hurt to your brother," you declared, "and I will make sure he learns not to threaten me."
He was still smiling.
"I will."
"I know," he said.
"Then why are you laughing at me?" you asked, puzzled.
"I'm not," he said softly. "I'm just wondering," he said, "if you would like my assistance."
"What? You agree with—" You blinked rapidly, unable to believe what you just heard.
"There are three things you should know about me, love," he said, leaning his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers. "First," he began, "I hate my brother more than you could comprehend." He cleared his throat. "Second, I am unapologetically self-centered and make decisions primarily based on my interests in nearly every situation. And third," he paused, looking down and chuckling softly, "I believe death would be a reward for despicable people like me or your father." He lifted his head. "I've always told you," Vash said, "that we would make an exceptional team. From the moment we met, I've been waiting for you to be ready to acknowledge your anger and strength. I've been waiting patiently all this time."
"That's why you wanted to use me to hurt my father?"
"Does that bother you?"
Your jaw dropped. "What? Of course, it bothers me! Wouldn't it bother you?"
"No," he said casually. "I would feel honored to have assisted."
Words eluded you. You couldn't tell if it was the influence of alcohol or a newfound courage that ignited within you, urging you to let your inner fire scorch others as well. "If that's the case," you declared, your gaze fixed on Vash's face, "then I want to bestow an honor upon you, Mr. Savrem."
He raised an eyebrow. "You want to use me?"
"Yep," you exclaimed, emphasizing the P. "We can hit two birds with one stone."
Vash took hold of his glass and reclined against the couch, looking at you as though he no longer recognized you. Good. When something is subjected to intense pressure, it becomes distorted. It forms sharp edges that can inflict deep wounds.
He lightly tapped his finger against the crystal, and the sound reverberated through the quiet living room. The crackling of the fireplace was the only other sound present.
Vash crossed one leg over the other. "Elaborate," he demanded.
"Do you—like, do you just like men?"
"Why? Are you trying to seduce me?" Vash asked in a relaxed manner, drawing your focus toward him as he sipped his Bourbon and peered at you over the rim of his glass.
His gaze was probing and studious, yet you offered no reaction. Your facial muscles remained steadfast as you replied, "That's what you desire, isn't it?"
A sly grin appeared on Vash's face, accentuated by the dim lighting and the flickering shadows, giving him a sinister look. However, you didn't even flinch in response. He no longer had the power to intimidate you. You had witnessed him kneeling before you.
"Is this a part of your grand plan?"
"Yes," you replied, contemplating how you wished you had a bigger mouth to accommodate more alcohol. It was essential to muster courage for what you were about to say.
"Nothing will hurt my dad more than seeing everyone talk about his beloved daughter fucking his enemy. And about your brother," you stated, taking a deep breath. You couldn't believe those words had come from your mouth. Your ears grew warm, but you had to press on because Vash didn't even flinch and needed him to take you seriously. "He has a vulnerability, and it's you," you continued, and he lowered his glass, tilting his head to the side as his eyebrows furrowed. Encouraged, you pressed forward, "He cut me because he believed you cared for me, and I am growing in you." You let out a mocking laugh, "So, you are his weakness. He doesn't want to share his little brother, and I want to do the exact opposite."
"You didn't tell me anything about this detail."
"There was no reason for you to be aware of it then. However, now I want you to pretend that you have succumbed to my seduction. I know you are skilled at acting, so it shouldn't pose a challenge for you," you said, taking another swig and wincing at the burning.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I can't fuck you," he stated, finishing the remainder of his whiskey.
The words felt unpleasant on your tongue, but you forced them out anyway. "I don't want a relationship, and If you are interested in the buttholes—"
"For fuck's sake! I've been with women as well. So, let's put an end to this discussion about holes!"
"So, if you're not exclusively interested in men, what's holding you back?" you rushed out. He tilted his head, patiently waiting. "From fucking me," you stated plainly. "You didn't hold back before. What's preventing you now?"
He remained quiet for a moment. "Because I couldn't bear the guilt," he whispered, gazing at you contemplatively. "If it were to happen again, the outcome would be vastly different — you're already aware of that."
You folded your arms. "Would it, though?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "Do you think if I were to pin you against a wall, you would resist initially only to succumb to pleasure eventually? Or do you think you would fight as if your life depended on it, only to end up mentally checking out from the trauma?"
You swallowed, the truth leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.
"I will never claim to be a good, kind, or even honorable man. There is little of that left in me, and the truth is, it was never truly there to start with. I was born with a blackened soul. However, there is a distinction between those who are needlessly evil and those who do wrong in the hopes of achieving something good. I'll leave it up to you to decide which category I fall into."
You realized you didn't need to think about it at all. Trauma had a tight hold on you, but all you wanted Vash to do was hold you tighter.
You downed the remaining Vodka in a single gulp, relishing in the burn as it traveled down your throat. The clock ticked, approaching eight PM. It was the perfect timing since the household staff would soon be present to serve dinner. Why not put on a performance for them? You were confident that at least one of them would discreetly inform Knives about everything.
Adrenaline got steadily released into your bloodstream, akin to injecting heroin into a vein. Rising to your feet, you approached Vash, causing his muscles to tense up as you parted his crossed legs and settled onto his lap. Almost subconsciously, his hand swiftly grasped your waist to hold you. No matter how much he pretended otherwise, it was clear that men were all the same. Their dicks dictated their every decision.
"You'll end up getting hurt," he cautioned, his voice taking on a deeper tone as the words slipped out quietly and deliberately.
" Maybe I need another pain to wash away the one I'm experiencing now," you stated, unreservedly running your hand between your legs, provocatively stroking his crotch through his pants, all while maintaining unwavering eye contact with him.
He took a deep breath. "You're toying with fire," he croaked, shifting his gaze from your face to your hand resting on his groin.
"Then let your flames consume me, Vash," you urged, intensifying the pressure of your hand against the fabric. "Imagine the retribution we will exact upon the men who ruined us."
He tightly shut his eyes, tilting his head back as his lips parted. You reached out and touched him once more, this time with gentle tenderness. You felt his thumb caressing your side. Good.
You wished for Knives to witness this moment, wanting to prove something to the deluded man who thought he owned you. The only person with the right to claim your body was the one you granted permission to. You would allow Vash's hands to explore every inch of your skin, followed by the touch of his mouth. You would let his tongue lick your pussy until you were sated, right before he fucked you until you no longer knew your name.
You would let him because you said he could.
Vash drew you closer, pressing his body against yours and pinning your breasts against his chest. Your breath faltered as you felt the warmth surround you, his arm encircling your waist tightly, firmly locking you in place.
You liked the way he felt pressed against you. The softness of your body molded against the hard ridges of his. It felt... pleasant. Satisfying.
"We can handle this, Vash. Approach it like a business," you whispered in his ear, sensing his breath leaving him and his heart pounding against your chest.
Vash locked eyes with you briefly, and as you leaned in to kiss him, he placed his forefinger on your lips. "No need for kisses. This is not about making love. It's strictly business," he asserted.
As you were about to part your lips to speak, you were interrupted by his soft lips gliding rhythmically against your neck, reminiscent of water swaying the rocks beneath a cliff. A moan rose from your throat, and you immediately grasped the back of his neck, urging him to press his head closer to your skin.
He emitted a low, primal growl, his self-control slipping away. His other hand entwined itself in your hair, adjusting the angle of your head to gain better access. He sank his teeth into your flesh, skillfully exploring with an unrestrained fervor.
You clung to him tightly, pressing further into him. Shuddering with the feel of his hard cock digging into your stomach, his size only fueling your desire. He wasn't small, and that was precisely what you craved tonight. Something that would silence Knives' voice with pleasure, leaving you breathless and thoroughly gratified.
His tongue wrestled with your collarbones, skillfully swiping and lapping while his teeth playfully nipped at them. Another moan slipped free, bouncing in the air until he matched it with his groan.
The grip on your hair tightened, tilting your head back, allowing his lips to roam freely along the sensitive area where your neck and shoulder met.
You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, a subtle warning before he sank them in. The sharp pleasure rolled your eyes to the back of your head, followed by a long moan.
"Fuck," he cursed, his tongue flicking against your neck as he emitted a primal groan. "That voice drives me wild."
You felt your eyelids flutter as you succumbed to the pleasure his tongue and teeth were drawing out of you. His hands ventured lower, and soon, you felt a firm tug on your jeans. The button popped open in seconds, accompanied by the low purr of your zipper being undone.
On a low growl, Vash inquired, "Is your pussy wet for me like before, love?" as he playfully nipped at your neck. It stung a little, causing you to wince in response to the slight pain. However, his tongue glided over the bite mark, soothing the sting.
"Yes," you whispered, pleasure overpowering the lingering pain. His hand smoothly slid down the front of your jeans and underwear, his fingers gradually moving lower until the tip of his middle finger teasingly dipped inside you.
A low, guttural growl arose from you as he realized how truthful you were being. "Fuck, love, that's it. If you want our plan to succeed, you need to be louder. Don't you want everyone to know we're fucking?"
Suddenly, two fingers delved inside you, skillfully curling to hit that sweet spot. Your vision blurred, and a scream of pleasure erupted from your lips, becoming your sole response. It was the only thing you could do at that moment.
With instinct, you tilted your hips, grinding against his hand. He withdrew his fingers partially before driving them back into you again. And again, until he fucked you with his fingers, leaving you with nothing to do but hold on tightly, your nails digging into his shirt.
You let out long, husky moans that emanated from your throat, obediently filling the space precisely as he had requested.
"You certainly know how to make a scene," he whispered into your ear, punctuating his words with a sharp nip. The heel of his palm pressed firmly against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. With his skilled fingers, he elevated your arousal, causing the orgasm to coil deep in your stomach. Then, he rubbed you just right, causing your knees to quake from the intense pleasure.
"Oh," you moaned, your breath coming in irregular, breathless gasps.
In a dark whisper, he asked, "Will you scream when you come on my hand, love?"
You thought you nodded, but you couldn't be sure, for in a matter of seconds, your head jerked backward as your climax escalated, building up to an intense peak.
"Let me hear it," he encouraged. His fingers glided out, only to plunge back in, this time with the addition of a third finger.
You bit your lip as you tumbled over the edge. A cry rushed out, the sound wavering in pitch as deep-seated pleasure engulfed you. Shamelessly, you pressed against his hand, surrendering to the relentless waves of ecstasy.
"So vindictive," he murmured, his voice tinged with satisfaction. Breathless yet possessing a heightened hunger, he took out his hand and lightly brushed it against your lower lip, spreading your arousal. "You've made quite a mess on my hand, love. It would be rude not to clean it up."
While maintaining eye contact, your tongue darted out, the tip sliding across his finger. He smiled wickedly, prompting you to open your mouth wider. Soon, you tasted your own familiar flavor, but it didn't last long as he withdrew his fingers and licked the remainder himself. You never expected such a simple and primal act to make you ache for him even more than you already did.
His hot breath tickled against your face, causing a shiver to run down your spine. As you closed your eyes, you couldn't help but bite your lip when you felt his hands slip into your shirt.
"Vash," you said in a hushed, breathless voice. His warm breath caressed your neck as he leaned in closer. Gentle lips delicately grazed the edge of your ear. Like a cascading waterfall, a torrent of chills raced down your back.
"You're such a good, obedient girl," he remarked. The aroma of smoke mingled with hints of mint and wood enveloped you. The thought of him being delicious and the desire to have him in your mouth crossed your mind.
As if reading your mind, he reached up and placed his hand on the back of your head, his fingers entwining in your hair and drawing you impossibly closer. In a moment of impulse, you did something foolish. You drew his lower lip into your mouth, savoring the taste of him and the feel of his lips against yours. Suddenly aware of your behavior, you let go of his lip, attempting to pull away.
He was like a drug, and similar to the actual substance, he led you to make idiotic decisions.
He held onto you tightly, using his hand to press your forehead against his own forcefully. "I explicitly said no kissing. Right?" His grip on your hair was firm.
You nodded in response.
In return, his tongue traced your chin, descending towards your neck once more. You let out a soft, unintentional moan, and as soon as he noticed your body's response, he nibbled on your skin. He completely consumed you, sucking and licking your body in a way you'd never experienced.
He was leaving hickeys all over your skin, and you found yourself powerless to resist him, just as you were powerless to deny the pleasure that ran through your veins. Another low growl pinged through his mouth, serving as a mere indication of his following action.
He gripped your waist and lifted you. "You're such a good fucking girl," he praised, leaning against your chest before biting your breasts through your shirt and bra. He held you against the wall, his body pressing tightly against yours.
Gasping for air, your feet touched the ground as you struggled to hold up your head, desperately inhaling precious oxygen. He firmly held your cheeks with his large hand, growling against you.
You inserted your hands between your bodies, traveling towards his muscled stomach and firm chest. With force, you roughly pushed him away.
"Wait, please stop," you gasped, feeling a haze of confusion clouding your mind. The heat of the moment had left your pussy pulsating and your senses overwhelmed.
"What did I tell you?" he demanded with a sharp tone. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, captivating you in a hypnotic grip. It was difficult to avert your gaze when you felt like a helpless prey entrapped by the eyes of a predator.
"What?" you whispered, still feeling lightheaded.
"You're toying with fire," he reiterated slowly, his voice rough with gravel. Your mouth opened, but the words remained trapped, unable to get out.
His lips brushed against your cheek, tracing a path along your jawline. "Think about the prying eyes behind these walls. Let's stick to your original plan and provide them with something to gossip about," he concluded, punctuating his words with a sharp nip on your earlobe. Your body reacted, arching involuntarily as sweat drops formed on your skin. " I know you want me."
"No," you denied in a whisper. "You're wrong."
He raised his head, a smug smirk gracing his lips. "So, you're going to be a bad girl tonight? Lie to my face and act like your pussy isn't aching to be filled up with my cock?"
A flush of heat spread across your cheeks, a blend of anger and embarrassment. "Not everything revolves around physical attraction," you retorted after a moment. "Maybe my body wants you, but up here," you tapped your temple, "it's a different story."
He nodded slowly, studying your face with a pensive gaze. Stepping back, he left you feeling a sense of emptiness. It was akin to a dark veil encasing the sun on a scorching summer day—a sudden, chilling coldness that seeped into your bones.
He seized your hand and yanked you away from the wall. He twirled you around until you stood in front of one of the mirrors next to the fireplace. You watched him from the reflection as he pressed his body against yours, his warmth soaking into your very being. Your gaze fixated on the mirror, your eyes meeting and colliding through the glass.
He lowered himself gradually, bringing his mouth close to your ear, never breaking eye contact. "If you've had a change of heart, I won't push you into anything and will stop right now," he whispered in your ear, eliciting sparks throughout your nerve endings. His voice carried ominous promises and dangerous new beginnings.
You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. The word "No" teetered on the edge of your tongue, like a delicate ballerina dancing precariously at the tip, dangerously close to falling off and breaking her ankle. Because if you said no to this man, you'd spend the rest of your night—week—possibly longer, regretting it.
As he desired, a sense of recklessness and impulsiveness descended upon you. All you yearned for was to surrender yourself to him. You were dying to deny him, yet you had to fight your body from turning and pulling him into you.
Perhaps, just this once, to piss off Knives, you considered giving in.
You rolled your lip between your teeth, and he watched you closely, studying every gesture as if trying to interpret a cryptic language concealed within the contours of your body.
"So you think it'll work?" you inquired, your voice husky and uneven. His mouth remained close to your ear while his gaze remained fixed on yours.
He nodded slowly, his expression serious and his gaze penetrating. "Yes, love," he whispered. You closed your eyes, resignation taking over your body. You couldn't deny the truth to yourself anymore. Even if he doubted the plan's success, you still wanted him to have you tonight.
Noticing the shift, he trailed his hand over your stomach. You stiffened under his touch, feeling goosebumps rising on your skin. His fingers gripped your shirt, gradually lifting it up, parting the material at a painful pace.
"Does it hurt you when I touch your scars?"
Your eyes widened. The man, bearing his own soul's fractures, would never perceive your scars as repulsive.
"Just get it over with," you snapped, frustration emanating from his intentionally slow progression.
A malicious grin appeared on his lips, and even the mirror couldn't diminish the cruelty behind it. "Poor little thing," he jeered. "You miss having a man inside you? Were your fingers not enough to satisfy you? Have you fantasized about me while touching yourself?"
With just a glance, he possessed an uncanny ability to steal the air from your lungs. When his words accompanied that piercing gaze, it felt like you had no lungs at all.
Your shirt fell to the ground.
"What if your men come in?" you whispered, your voice barely breaking through the palpable tension in the air.
He grinned—a mischievous smile that conveyed his indifference if someone did. "What do you think they'd do?" he asked, his fingertips lightly brushing against your scars.
Goosebumps emerged, a tangible reaction from the electricity dancing across your skin wherever his touch landed.
"Do you think they'd watch?" he asked. "Do you think they would relish the sight of your naked body? Maybe they would get off on witnessing your dripping pussy or the rise and fall of your chest as you climax. I even think they would delight in watching your eyes roll back when my cock fills you so fully you can't fit any more of me inside you."
A shot of fear jolted through your heart, forcing the muscle into overdrive. Yet, despite this, your body still reacted more illicitly. Just like his words, you felt a renewed throbbing between your legs.
Would you be comfortable with a stranger observing? You doubted it. But there was something about the way he described the scenario that made you wonder if he would allow it to occur regardless.
"Are you comfortable with others seeing us undressed?" you challenged, breathless while staring at your shirt on the wooden floor.
Vash's fingers traced along your spine, moving slowly and purposefully. Their touch felt scorching, like searing lava against your flesh.
"No," he murmured into your ear. You observed him as his gaze descended, fixating on your chest. The band of your bra tightened, pressing uncomfortably against your skin before loosening. The black cups that held your breasts released, leaving you fully exposed. Your nipples were painfully erect.
When he caught sight of your hardened peaks, his tongue drifted across his lower lip as if he was salivating at the sight. "Do you want to know what I would do?" he questioned. "I would allow them to watch. I would let them watch me fuck you. They would watch as my cock fills every one of your holes and watch you cry with intense orgasms. And then, I'd fucking kill them. With my cock still wet from your cum, I would slice their throats for daring to lay their eyes upon us."
The fear within you constricted, forming a sharp tip that seemed capable of bursting the fragile balloon of sanity you clung to.
"You're insane," you gasped.
This time, he chuckled, his deep laughter sending a shiver straight to the apex of your thighs. "You were aware of this, and yet you asked for it," he murmured absentmindedly.
His focus pulled away, and his hands explored your stomach, delicately tracing the lines of your scars as if he found them captivating. Eventually, he cupped your breasts, his large hands making them appear smaller, barely contained within his grasp. He was a monster. Inside and out. Yet, despite all logic, you couldn't ignore the fact that other than your panties, your jeans had become wholly soaked, too. It seemed impossible for the body to experience both hatred and desire simultaneously.
He forcefully squeezed your breasts, causing you to scream out of pain.
"Be a good girl and scream louder," he ordered before relinquishing his hold on your breasts and moving his hands towards your jeans. You were swamped by confusion and a sense of dread. You knew this was all so terribly wrong. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to stop him as he hooked his thumbs on either side, pulling your jeans down. First, he assisted you in removing your shoes and effortlessly slipped the jeans off, setting you completely free.
You remained clad only in your wet black panties. Swallowing hard, your heart raced as you surveyed your reflection. Vash, on the other hand, remained fully clothed, his eyes examining every angle of your undressed form. He looked as if he couldn't decide, unsure where to begin.
You resisted the impulse to cover yourself. The act of hiding felt more humiliating than standing nearly bare before an attractive man.
"You need to undress as well," you insisted. There was no way you were going to be the only one left vulnerable and exposed.
Finally, he came out from behind you and stood directly before you. It felt more real when you were not looking at them through a glass mirror. Yet, you couldn't pretend that your pussy wasn't weeping for him and that you were not anticipating the feel of him inside of you. You weren't a victim this time, as you were the mastermind behind this ill-advised situation.
"If you want that, love, then you'll have to be the one to do it," he declared with a raised voice. He regarded you skeptically as if he doubted your willingness to undress him. And there was no doubt in your mind he understood the effect that look had on you. The jerk was well aware of your inability to resist a challenge.
You reciprocated the same level of respect he had shown you. Slowly and delicately, you undressed him, purposefully grazing your fingers against his skin, earning your own shivers and growls of impatience.
You took off his shirt and stared at his scarred and rugged skin. His scars still caused him pain, evident by his reaction when your fingertips brushed over them, causing him to tense and bare his teeth. It wasn't physical pain; these scars had already healed. Yet, they resembled icebergs—seemingly formidable and commanding on the outside, yet concealing something far more significant and menacing beneath the surface. They had the power to sink someone to the depths of their darkest desires, much like the Titanic. These scars wounded him deeply within, and you were genuinely curious about the stories behind each one.
In the areas without scars, there were tattoos. The most notable tattoo was a giant maze extending from his neck to his right arm. You didn't know, but he had a few small tattoos here and there, too.
"You didn't cover any of your scars with tattoos," you quietly observed, running your finger along the maze lines. The tattoos intentionally avoided the raised skin, as if deliberately respecting the scars.
"I don't hide from my failures," he asserted. However, his physical beauty extended beyond his failures. His body was filled with well-defined muscles, strong without being too bulky. His physique made it clear that he could kill you with his pinky without looking like he took steroids for breakfast. And if that alone didn't turn your knees to jelly, the thick veins roping from his neck, down his robust arms, and into his large hands were enough to unravel you.
He was… fucking phenomenal.
He observed you with great care, his eyes burning with intensity as you examined him. He was nearly vibrating beneath your slow perusal, so you moved on and resumed your torture. It took a total of zero seconds before he was bristling with the need to fuck you. You felt so much power in your fingertips, and you couldn't help but wonder how much more powerful you would be if he had a feeling for you.
With every inch of his skin revealed, you grew shakier and wetter. It seemed unjust for someone to possess such flawless allure despite the visible imperfections and scars. If anything, the evident signs of the hardships his body had endured only made him that much more edible.
You choked on air as you lowered his pants, his hard cock jutting out from the confines of his pants. So this was what accepting death via dick looked like.
Once he was completely undressed, you took a big step back and examined the reflection in the mirror. Your gaze fixated on his muscular thighs, firm and shapely buttocks, and sculpted back that had enticed you since that doomed morning. You couldn't help but fantasize about running your hands all over them. And then there was the most gorgeous cock you'd ever seen.
You wanted to run away. Far, far away. To put as much distance as possible between yourself and this man. It was clear to you that he would bring about your downfall after tonight. You could taste it on your tongue.
"Are you scared?" he asked in a low, dark voice. His gaze bore into you, his expression inscrutable.
"Yes," you responded honestly. His smile, almost breathtaking, nearly weakened your resolve. It felt unnatural how strikingly beautiful he was. Without a doubt, he was the embodiment of darkness. Now, more than ever, you were convinced he was the fucking devil.
"You ought to be," he warned, his voice tinged with menace. Without thinking, you took another step backward, but he made no move to impede your retreat.
"Get on your knees, love," he commanded in a sinister tone. You hesitated, uncertain whether to obey or search for the common sense you seemed to have misplaced somewhere along the way into this living room and make a swift escape.
"Don't test me," he growled, his face dropping into a stern expression. Lowering his jaw, he glared down at you with an intimidating gaze. The threat in his face frightened you, causing your juices to dampen your thighs.
You dropped to your knees with a jolt, the impact causing pain. It was exactly what you both desired. He tilted your head back forcefully, making you gaze up at him. His cock brushed against your cheek, serving as a forewarning of what lay ahead.
"You enjoy being a naughty girl, don't you? You like the thrill of testing me because you get off on the fear I instill in you. You're a silly little girl toying with danger," he taunted, his face contorted into a cruel snarl. Tears welled up in your eyes as he held your head firmly, burning just like the inferno of ire and lust in his eyes.
"Tell me, love, have you ever been fucked by a man like me?"
"Better," you hissed, feeling the dormant resentment towards him resurface. Something very dark and dangerous shuttered over his eyes. He raised an eyebrow, and instantly, you recoiled inward. It was a lie. You both knew it.
Good girls don't lie. That was the first thing you learned when you were put in a religious school as a child. The second lesson was not to trust the devil and his influence. However, they forgot to mention the crucial advice of not provoking him once you had fallen under his sway. Perhaps that was considered basic common fucking sense.
Your lip quivered as you scolded yourself for your foolishness. Feelings of bitterness and mistrust simmered just below the surface. You couldn't fathom why you entertained the idea of allowing Vash to dominate and have his way with you without putting up a fight.
"Open your fucking mouth, bad girl. Right now, or I'll make you gag on my cock," he demanded, his voice dripping with threat.
This time, you obeyed. The moment your lips separated, Vash forcefully thrust the tip into your mouth, pushing it deep down your throat. He hissed through his teeth, accompanied by another feral growl.
You whimpered and then gagged as he pushed his dick deeper. It felt like rigid steel wrapped in smooth fabric, but the sleekness did little to alleviate the pain. He was too thick and too long for your mouth.
Tears instantly flooded your eyes and streamed down your cheeks as he continued to penetrate you forcefully. As a reflex, you grasped onto his sturdy thighs, attempting to create some distance. However, he swiftly seized both of your hands, clasping them together in one of his while maintaining his grip on your head with the other. He held your bound hands high against his abdomen, giving the appearance of a woman kneeling in prayer, worshipping the very embodiment of evil.
"Suck it. Now," he growled.
You complied with his command, hoping he'd ease up. You sucked hard, creating a hollow in your cheeks while running your tongue smoothly over the prominent vein on the underside of his length.
"That's it, love," he exhaled, granting you a momentary respite. However, within seconds, he pulled you back towards him, taking control of your movements as he guided your head back and forth while you continued to suck him with your mouth.
He murmured words of encouragement and let out deep, pleasure-filled groans as he became increasingly assertive. Every syllable and moan that left his lips fueled your growing desperation to satisfy him.
"Let's see. Your high school sweetheart, Eren Yeager, he was better than me, huh?"
Your eyes widened in confusion, unsure of how Vash knew him and fearing this conversation's direction. "I highly doubt he was better than me. Who else?" he emphasized the last word by thrusting deeper into your throat, causing you to choke. After a few seconds of struggling, he relented. "Satoru Gojo, Cloud Strife, that boy Zuko..." he continued, listing off every man you had gone on a date with. Admittedly, the number wasn't significant, but it felt a lot considering the peril in which you had just placed their lives. He abruptly jerked your head back, granting you a brief moment to catch your breath as he uttered, "I will enjoy killing each and every one of them, love."
Before you could even form a response or take another gasp of air, he resumed choking you with his cock. Your vision began to blur at the edges as he thrust deeply into your throat. No matter how much you gagged and fought against him, he only became harder and more aroused.
"What if I cum in your mouth, and you swallow it to make your father proud?"
For a brief moment, you glared up at him, your hatred burning brighter than any trace of desire. He smiled, or rather revealed his teeth, as he noticed the anger reflected in your eyes.
"You want it, but you won't damn well receive it. You haven't earned that privilege just yet."
Without any warning, he forcefully yanked your head back, his cock popping free. He gripped your chin firmly, raising you until you were on your tiptoes.
"Vash, please," you whimpered, your vision hazy from tears and your chest constricted from the lack of air. Uncertain of what you were pleading for, whether it was your own life or the lives of the innocent men you had unknowingly condemned to death.
"That's such a good girl," he praised. "I love it when you're scared and begging."
Just as you believed you could finally inhale, he swiftly stole your breath again. His lips closed tightly against yours in a captivating kiss, electrifying your senses. Your nails dug into his chest, provoking a deep growl from him as he dominated your mouth with his own. He claimed he wouldn't kiss you, but the energy between you crackled and exploded, causing both of you to drink from each other fervently. The kiss ignited sparks of fire and filled your tongue with the mingling flavor of bitter whisky.
Poison had never tasted so good.
As your tongues battled for control, he firmly grasped your waist and yanked you upwards. Your legs naturally wrapped around his trim waist just as you felt the cool glass pressed against your back. The mirror's chill threatened to send shivers curling for epilogue through your body, but the heat radiating from his body against yours was scorching hot.
A sudden, piercing bite of pain on either side of your hips caused you to gasp into his mouth. With a quick, forceful pull, he tore your panties away from your body, leaving the shredded fabric caught somewhere between your bodies.
He withdrew and positioned the head of his cock at the entrance. "Spread your pussy for me, love," he commanded.
"No!" you shouted. "There's absolutely no way I'll let you fuck me without a condom!"
"Why bother? You already have an IUD, so clearly, my spawns won't have any chance of impregnating you," he retorted, his tone laced with heavy sarcasm.
"How the hell do you know that?" you exclaimed, swiftly hitting his chest.
"Milly."
So the nurse examined you, checking if Knives had raped you or not.
"I don't want your STDs!" you spat out angrily.
"Who the fuck do you think I am?" Vash demanded, his eyes ablaze with anger.
"A manwhore!" you said.
He pushed you closer to the mirror while glancing between you and his reflection. "I haven't been with anymore since Nick!"
"Oh, C'mon! You fucked a girl on your birthday!"
"I didn't," he said, then relaxed his hold, letting you free.
"But Bradd—"
"I helped that abused waitress to run away," he said quietly.
You tried to speak up and ask him to just fuck you, but the anger on his face silenced you. Just as he was about to move away, you halted him and obeyed his instructions.
You spread your legs and, grabbing his cock, guided it into your entrance. It was belittling when he knew you weren't supposed to want it. And as a consequence of offending him, he was going to make you show him how much you wanted him. By spreading your pussy and inviting him in.
Gods, you hated him.
His hands tightened on your hips painfully. You knew that you would wake up tomorrow with bruises shaped like handprints, and a part of you dreaded that. The imprints left on your skin would make it impossible to forget what happened.
"Do not ever label me as a manwhore," he warned just before he forcefully brought you down onto his awaiting dick.
"Ah!" you cried out, your hands poised to push him away from your chest. He was too much, stretching you wider than you'd ever been. Your eyes rounded into giant saucers as you whimpered in response to the extreme pressure.
You sensed his grith slipping through your fingers as he worked himself deeper. "Stop! It's too big," you gasped.
"Well, tough luck for you," he cooed mockingly, his tone husky and tight. "This is the consequence of being a naughty girl, isn't it?"
When you remained silent, he forcefully pulled you down on his dick harder, causing you to let out another pained whimper.
"Answer me," he barked.
"Yes!" you exclaimed, breathless, as you tightly shut your eyes in response to the invasion.
"Will you behave now?"
"Yes," you mewled desperately. The pain was morphing into something much more intense and breathtaking.
He slid out and then eased back in with a gentler but still angry motion. It felt as if your body was on the verge of exploding. This wasn't natural to be so goddamn full.
He withdrew until only the tip remained, and then he slammed his entire length inside of you. It went so deep that you felt it all the way up to your throat.
You cried out, your voice cracking under the swell of emotions welling up in your chest. It didn't feel right at all.
"Damn, love, I can barely fucking fit."
Perhaps that's why it felt as if he was ripping you apart. He began with deliberate and powerful movements, forcefully thrusting before pulling out at a painfully slow pace, only to slam back inside you once more.
You felt your body starting to yield, eagerly taking him in as he ravished you with each thrust. He widened his stance, using the mirror for support, causing your stomach to tighten in anticipation of the damage he was about to exert on your organs.
Shockwaves scattered throughout your nerve endings as he quickened his pace, roughly fucking you against the mirror while loud noises you never made in your life fell from your lips.
The pleasure was blinding, and the sight of him moving in and out between your fingers heightened the strong desire stirring in the pit of your stomach.
He let you down, swiftly turned you around, and wasted no time before thrusting back inside you. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms against the mirror to find stability.
"Look at us in the mirror," he demanded roughly. It required significant effort, but you pried your eyes open and let them wander over the mirror. It was too much— watching him drive himself inside you so deeply.
Your eyes were partially closed, and your face displayed undeniable bliss. Then, you caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, and your gazes met. A torrent of emotions washed over you, causing your heart to sink, and you quickly averted your eyes. It was the most euphoric experience you ever had.
Your eyes met his again, and a sly smile spread across his face. He leaned in, his lips gently skating across the crook of your neck as he watched you slowly come apart at the seams, all the while maintaining a mischievous grin.
"Now, confess, have you ever been fucked by a man like me?"
You nibbled on your lip and shook your head, resisting the temptation to roll your eyes in sheer exasperation.
He abruptly halted, causing an involuntary, embarrassing scream to leave your lips. He pushed your back down to readjust your positions, and the moment he hit that particular spot, your legs trembled uncontrollably.
"Oh my God," you moaned, unable to prevent your eyes from rolling back this time.
"That's right, love. I am your fucking God," he growled, and then you felt his teeth sinking into your neck.
Your stomach tightened as an orgasm built rapidly, threatening to overpower you. It felt as if a furious Poseidon resided within, conjuring a destructive tsunami that seemed poised to engulf you.
The mirror began to shudder from the force of his intense thrusts violently. It seemed as if it could shatter at any moment, yet you were unable to bring myself to care. Just as you were on the brink of reaching climax, he pulled completely out.
You whimpered, feeling the sudden emptiness almost as if it were painful. "What—"
He took a step back and gestured towards the floor. Your knees wobbled, your balance disrupted by the sharp pleasure throbbing between your thighs. "Get on your hands and knees," he instructed.
You didn't protest, primarily because the absence of the orgasm was distressing, and your legs could barely bear your weight any longer. Frustration welled up, evident in the tearful corners of your eyes, but you suppressed your snarky remark. You knew that he would only escalate your punishment further.
You expected him to enter you once more from behind, but instead, he swiftly slid his hands between your legs and gripped you from underneath your hips. He lifted you, causing your knees to lose contact with the ground, and you had to quickly catch yourself to prevent from falling face-first.
You felt his warm breath fanned across your pussy just moments before his teeth latched onto your sensitive clit. You yelped as pain and pleasure mingled. However, he wasted no time in lavishing attention on your throbbing bundle of nerves, skillfully using his mouth to suck while lapping at your dripping cunt.
He hummed, sending delightful vibrations resonating through your core. "You taste so fucking good," he murmured before teasingly flicking his tongue against your sensitive clit. You gazed up shamelessly, observing him feast on you from behind. You adjusted your head to obtain the best view of him on his knees, hungrily devouring your pussy as if he were famished.
The impending orgasm resurfaced, now even more imminent than before. You were unable to grind back into Vash's face like you desired, leaving you utterly defenseless against the relentless assault of his tongue.
"Vash, please," you begged, your eyes crying with pleasure.
"Do you want to come?" he asked; his voice was breathless and unsteady.
"Yes," you pleaded with a groan.
Vash pulled away, and in frustration, you screamed, pounding your fist against the floor. Overwhelmed by fury from being denied for the second time, you struggled against his grip, thrashing in defiance. He chuckled at your futile attempt.
"You motherfucking ass—"
He abruptly halted your outburst by seating himself inside you, causing his balls to smack against the sensitive nub. You choked on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. He seized your hair, forcefully pulling your head back, making you look directly into the mirror in front of you. From this angle, you could witness him vigorously fuck you.
"You want to cream all over my cock, love?"
You nodded your head frantically.
He responded with a smile. "Have you been a good girl?"
Once again, you nodded unsteadily.
"Then fucking say it," he urged, calling out your name.
As his gravelly voice pronounced your full name, you instinctively clenched around his cock.
"I'm a good girl," you breathed, too far gone to feel anything but blinding lust. He molded his body against your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. The hand in your hair slid down to wrap around your throat, exerting a firm grip, while his other hand splayed across your stomach. Your vision became hazy, and finally, the tsunami of orgasm crashed through you.
You emitted an ear-piercing scream that nearly rattled the mirror. Vash's name spilled from your lips in a frenzied chant as your entire world exploded into myriad fragments.
"Fuck! That's it, love. Your pussy is incredibly tight. Milk my cock," Vash managed to say through gritted teeth. He concluded with a growl, his hips trembling as he slammed into you for one last time, filling you with his cum until there was no room left inside of you. Your combined fluids trickled down your thighs as you lay on the floor, panting and breathless. Your body convulsed with aftershocks, even after the biggest orgasm you had ever experienced subsided.
You couldn't fucking breathe, let alone move or form coherent thoughts. None of it felt normal. Not a single bit.
Your breath hitched, and your teeth clenched from the feel of him sliding out of you.
Disregarding Vash's presence, you hurriedly scrambled to dress yourself.
As you approached your shoes, a muttered "shit" caught your attention from behind. Turning around, you found Vash staring at his phone, his face etched with a serious expression. He was dressed in nothing but his black boots and loosely fastened pants, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the well-defined V disappearing beneath the fabric. The glow from his phone emphasized the muscles flexing against his smooth skin, with scars and intricate black tattoos only enhancing his raw allure. The veins coursing through his hands and arms were visibly bulging, and if you weren't already leaning against the mirror, his overwhelming presence would have caused you to collapse. That masterpiece of jagged scars and rugged edges had ravished you completely, leaving you breathless.
You closed your eyes and leaned against the glass, seeking respite. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of Vash's hand on the back of your neck, causing your eyes to snap open. You realized he was pulling you closer, resting your head against his chest and draping his shirt over your shoulders. Assuming that this would be the last time you permitted his touch, you allowed him to slip his hands beneath your knees and neck, hoisting you effortlessly into his arms.
Exhaustion had enveloped you so entirely that his words, "Let's bring you to our room," evaded your weary ears.
Taglist: @julk4e - @lune010 - @beanibon - @emptybrain01 - @changingchances @awkwardchick87 @enchantedforest-network
#vash the stampede smut#vash smut#trigun smut#vash the stampede x reader#vash x reader#vash the stampede x you#vash x you#vash the stampede fluff#vash the stampede x y/n#vash the stampede angst#vash stampede x reader#trigun x reader#toxic vash the stampede#vash fluff#toxic vash#trigun fanfiction#vash x wolfwood#vash and wolfwood#vashwood#vash the stampede#vash angst#tristamp#nicholas d. wolfwood#vash the stampede fanart#trigun stampede#trigun vash#gunpowder dreams#trigun stampede x reader#sweat for me while reading this (lovingly)#stampede smut
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*Cuddling with Vash*
You: "Hey Vash, it's been a while since we last - you know - smashed."
Vash: *excitedly getting up like a golden retriever* "Oh, yeah! You get ready and I'll be right back!"
You: *strips while waiting for Vash to come back*
Vash: *walks in with his GameCube* "I'm so hyped, I haven't played smash in forever, do you want the purple or silver controller-...?"
Also Vash: *notices you're naked* "Well... I'm not sure why you would want to play Smash Bros. naked, but I like your enthusiasm!" *finger guns*
#whispered_hcs#vash the stampede#vash headcanons#vash is a golden retriever#trigun#trigun stampede#trigun headcanons#trigun hcs#vash hcs#vash x y/n#vash x you#vash x reader#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede x y/n#vash reader insert#vash the stampede reader insert#vash the plushie#whispered_incorrect_quotes
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vash, in rare form, let's you take care of his wounds and realizes how much he craves your touch.
notes; 0.5k, details about wounds, trimax coded
"it's probably gonna hurt."
it brought him comfort to hear you say that, even though vash already knew that it would. the laceration in his back was already several hours old; the worst of the bleeding had been thwarted by the bulk of his clothing, adhering the fabric to his skin like glue until you carefully, carefully-- painstakingly peeled it off his body.
what remained was a long stripe parallel to his spine; it glowed red along the perimeter of mangled flesh, the inside of it mostly dark and dry at this point with touches of a fresh red quality to it that oozed when he moved too much. he had acclimated to the pain that came with it a long time ago, managing to steel himself against the sunlight beating down on him, forcing out reassuring smiles through clenched teeth ready to shatter.
the only thing that gave him away was when you slapped him across the back, a jovial greeting meant to be reciprocated, only for him to belt out the loudest scream you had ever heard from him.
"you were just going to lie to everyone about it, weren't you?" it was less of a question, more an accusatory statement that made him whittle down into his shoulders. "you're lucky I'm the one who found you first and not wolfwood or meryl, vash."
he winced, body tensing against the first touches of your cold cotton pad on the wound.
"I know," he tried to laugh through his teeth again, air hissing through them as you continued. "thanks for keeping this between us. I guess I've always relied on you for that, though."
the first blood saturated pad was discarded, replaced by a clean one that you doused in antiseptic before dabbing it across the gash. he twitched against your fingers, reeling away and pushing back against you at every contact.
as the pad blossomed with pink, you found it oddly reminiscent of thinned out watercolor bleeding out on canvas, filling the miniscule crevices within slightly darker than the rest of it. and, once this one turned a brighter crimson, you replaced it with more pristine white.
"almost done, hang in there." you said, taking your time to get around the clumped edges of black, flicking away strings of dead flesh and clotted blood.
his fingernails left indents in his palm, fist unfurling and resting across his thigh once your hands were off of him. it was easier to bear the sterile, medicated patches you smoothed across him after that; warm, timid, caring touches that he leaned into.
when that feeling became a fleeting, faraway thing again, he was towards you to take back your hand and rest it against his face. your warmth melted into him, enveloping him more as he moved to wind his arms around you and stoop his neck to kiss your lips.
reposted from my deleted blog; cardeneiv
#trigun fic#trigun#trigun imagines#trimax#tristamp#trigun maximum#trigun stampede#trigun x you#trigun x reader#vash the stampede x y/n#vash x y/n#vash x you#vash x reader#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede#2k writes
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Can you do a plant/flower shop au vash x reader where he's in charge of the shop and the reader is a customer and becomes a regular and they finally start dating?
I love this! Like can you imagine Vash owning a little flower shop so cute! I’m also a massive sucker for flower language lol but I apologize if it's not super accurate. Also, it's babygirl’s birthday, and well since we saw how his last birthday went! Here is some fluff <3 So happy birthday to my favorite man! Also, requests are open for anything, please send some in! (warning corny af writing below this is like 2700 words of fluff)
‘I was enchanted to meet you’
Vash x Reader (Modern AU)
It starts with an impulse, you were having a terrible day, honestly, you were on the verge of tears and you just needed a little pick me up. Just to add insult to injury you had been caught out in the rain, you were soaking wet and miserable when you passed the little flower shop, you decided screw it! you deserved some nice flowers… and to get out of this weather.
So, without a second thought, you enter the small shop, a bell overhead going off as you do so. It's a charming little shop really, lots of different types of flowers and everything looks so green and fresh. You only feel a little bad about getting the floor all wet, but like plants need water, right? So, it was okay…surly.
“Hi! Can I help you?” a kind voice calls out, and it makes you jump you were so lost in thought that you weren't even thinking of anyone else being here. Turning around surprised to catch the very blue eyes of a guy who gives you a sheepish look, he's a cute, tall blonde, with large circle glasses sitting on his face and he’s wearing an apron, ah he must work here…duh! “Oh sorry, you caught me a little off guard.” You say with a soft laugh, Gee way to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy!
He doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment or at least he kindly doesn’t point it out. He also doesn’t point out the puddle under you, he seems a little taken aback by your presence. He was probably shocked that anyone had been out in this weather, wait… he asked you a question. “Oh um, I was just…” you trail off like an idiot, a little lost in the blue of his eyes
“Wanting some flowers?” he says with an easy smile, God you must look like an idiot. Why else would you be in here? Today was just not your day, and this guy was being so nice to you! That was probably his job, but you were just one minor inconvenience from losing it. Your eyes drift to the name tag on his apron, Vash…
When you don't answer, Vash looks you over and notices well just how sad you look. “Here, wait by the counter, I’ll be right back!” he calls out, not giving you a second to reply as he disappeared down the aisle of bright flowers. With a sigh, you follow his instructions leaning against the counter, you’ve already made such a fool of yourself, maybe you should just leave.
But you don't, maybe you are a little curious, and well it is still raining. Vash returns shortly after he told you to wait, he's holding a group of flowers together, they were pretty yellows, pinks, and whites some you recognized like the very obvious Sunflower. It was still very pretty, but now you are just a little confused you didn’t even get a chance to look at the flowers in the store.
He gives you another sheepish look, as he wraps the flowers into a bouquet and hands it to you. “Sorry… it's just you didn't seem to know what you want so I picked these out for you!” You can see just the hint of pink on his cheeks, the flowers are lovely. “What are they? I mean the flowers what are they called,” you ask, finding the gesture really… nice.
And the way his face lights up when you ask, well it was worth coming in here alright. “Oh! Well, these are Sunflowers, and then these are daisies and Snapdragons with some filler greenery.” As he talks, he points to each flower excitedly telling you a little fact about them, his voice is really nice and he clearly knows his stuff. He looks embarrassed after a while to be rambling on so much, he rubs the back of his head “Sorry… I didn't mean to ramble. I’m Vash I own the shop!”
Giving him a kind smile, you take the bouquet from him, it's lovely and simply just filled with life the opposite of the dreary attitude outside and the mood you were in when you first walked in, you tell him your own name before continuing to speak “I don’t mind, you really know a lot! How much do I owe you for these.” how could you not accept them, when he went through all the trouble, to select them just for you!
“They’re on the house.” He says kindly, and you can only look at him blankly, because why? “I can pay! I want to pay these are so nice and you went through all the trouble of picking them out!” You start to ramble a little flustered by the whole ordeal. Yeah, it was his job to provide flowers, but when was the last time a cute person had gifted your flowers?
Vash just laughs softly; it’s a nice sound and he is clearly not mocking you or anything it’s just a friendly chuckle as he puts his hands up in defense. “Really have them! They made you smile and that’s enough payment for me” Vash goes red at his words and at how cheesy they sound he starts stuttering an apology and backtracking, but now it’s your turn to laugh.
“Alright, thank you.” It really is a sweet gesture and honestly, it did make you smile after the day you had. You’ll have to come back and actually buy some flowers. The two of you continue to chat for a bit as the rain continues outside, he must notice your reluctance to leave back into the rain.
To your surprise again, Vash hands you an umbrella telling you that you’ll just have to bring it back the next time you visit, he says this with such a sweet smile you can’t refuse. Accepting the umbrella with a thank you and a shy smile, you leave flowers in hand promising you’ll be back. During your walk home, you can’t get rid of the smile on your face.
You do come back, giving it a week or so to return the umbrella to Vash and to pick out some flowers. But it’s a little overwhelming, so many choices. “Need some help?” You don’t know how he manages to sneak up on you so easily, “actually yeah, I’m a little clueless when it comes to this… do you think you could pick some out for me? And I’m paying this time!” You add on quickly at the end, as Vash laughs.
“Okay give me a second” and with one last look, he heads off in search of the perfect flowers for you, as you wait excitedly by the counter. You certainly could pick out flowers for yourself, but the bouquet he picked for you last time was so lovely that you just knew he would do a better job than you ever could.
Vash returns with a colorful bouquet in hand, your eyes light up at the display eagerly asking about each flower, he points out the calla lilies, a white camellia, and some yellow tulips. Vash goes over each flower telling you about them, it’s nice you like listening to him ramble. The flowers as always are beautiful.
“You know each flower is supposed to have a special meaning attached to it,” Vash says offhandedly as he puts the bouquet together for you, and that makes you even more interested, but before you can ask what the flowers, he picked for you mean you realize the time and you have to leave. You make sure to pay for the flowers, tell him goodbye, and thank you before you are off.
After this you become a bit of a regular to the small flower shop, at this point the moment Vash sees you he knows to just pick out some flowers for you. And you love it, the special care he takes in selecting each flower, how pretty the bouquet looks, and the shy smile he gives you each time he hands it over.
You also love to listen to talk about flowers, you ask more questions now instead of it just being a one-sided conversation and Vash is more than happy to answer any questions you have. Maybe you're going too often, but you like talking to Vash he’s so cute and nice! And it’s probably just his job to be nice to you. But you are starting to develop a crush, and it's embarrassing! It must be so obvious; you're probably making things awkward. Again, it's his job to be nice to you! You are just looking into things too deeply…unless you're not? You’ve seen Vash help other customers he's friendly of course! That’s just who he is, but it's not the same. Ugh, maybe you are looking into this too deeply.
As you continue to visit the shop, you notice some more slight changes, maybe you are being bolder more obvious, and Vash seems to be flirting with you. It makes your heart race every time. The familiar bell dings overhead again as you enter, Vash is behind the counter helping another customer he looks up and gives you a smile before continuing to help the other person. Returning his smile, you browse the flowers. Reading the little note cards by each flower makes you remember something Vash said about flowers having meanings, maybe you’ll look up some later.
A gentle call of your name makes you turn with a smile, Vash looks a little tired, his hair messier than usual he looks like he even has some dirt on his cheek, but he’s got that big smile on his face that he seems to reserve just for you. “You couldn't come at a better time! I just got a fresh shipment. Let me put something together for you!” you can’t refuse that, “Thanks Vash, I know whatever you pick out will be as wonderful as always.” the praise makes his eyes light up.
Instead of waiting at the counter, you follow Vash watching him pick out each flower with care and telling you the name of each one, but you notice he never tells you what they mean. A couple of pink roses, light red carnations, a bundle of colored peonies, and even some lovely irises. You want to ask what they mean, but for some reason, you don't. Not wanting to break the spell that you too seem to be under. “Peonies are pretty rare, but they are in season and I thought you might like them,” Vash says softly.
Impulsively you reach out toward his face as he turns towards you, cupping his cheek and using your thumb to brush the dirt off his face. His face turns bright red, and you are sure you look just as flustered. Quickly retracting your hand, “Um sorry! The flowers are really nice, let me buy them right!” you manage to say this without stuttering as you turn and make your way towards the counter, God you are an idiot
Waiting at the counter and trying not to die from embarrassment, Vash eventually joins you still looking a little flustered. The two of you stand there quietly as Vash rings up the flowers for you, thanking him softly and hoping not to come off as too awkward you say your goodbyes and head home. The whole walk you can’t help but clutch the flowers to your chest, hoping you didn't ruin everything.
It's late and you should be asleep, but your mind is still racing. With a sigh, you head into the kitchen for a drink when you see the bouquet sitting on the table. It makes you feel warm, and slightly curious Vash had seemed so excited about putting this set together for you… pulling out your phone you begin to search for what each flower means. And each search makes you blush more and more.
Pink roses can mean blossoming romantic feelings
Light red carnations can mean admiration and adoration
Peonies can mean romance and shyness
And lastly, irises can mean courage
You have to sit down for a second, you hope you're not giving this more meaning than it actually has. But Vash is the expert why would he purposely put this together for you if he had not meant…this? Did he return your feelings, looking at the flowers you feel determined and come up with a plan, you are either going to look like an idiot and you can never show Vash your face again… or the better outcome is you’ll get a date with the cutest guy you’ve ever seen!
No longer tired, you spend the rest of the night researching flowers. You just hope you don't mess this up…
You couldn't wait a day longer when you enter the store again, maybe you should have waited a couple of days, but you are scared that if you don't act now, you never will. Vash is busy with another customer; he looks up a little surprised but gives you that easy smile. It seems like he’ll be busy for a while, the customer seems very demanding. Perfect it’ll give you time to gather the flowers you need.
You think you have what you need, holing the flowers carefully in your hands you head to the counter. Vash looks a little surprised, “I know you like to… pick the flowers out for me but I really needed these ones today!” you tell him quickly as his look of surprise turns to amusement, “Sure here let me see them.” You pass them to him, and for a second you see him frown as he looks over each flower. Before his face becomes neutral, and he begins to ring them up for you.
Delphiniums, Gladiolus, some Stock flowers, and lastly some Lavender roses. You doubt it's a pretty selection of flowers, but they express what you want to say to him. Opening your heart, sincerity, affection, and enchantment. “This is quite a selection you picked out…” Vash says quietly, and when he hands them to you. You hand them right back.
“These are actually for you.”
Vash looks at you wide eye as he takes the flowers from your hands, he stares at you and you start to lose your courage here, “I looked up the meaning of the flowers you gave me yesterday and maybe I'm reading too into this… but I spent the whole night researching flowers on how to return those feelings if that’s what you even meant.” You ramble painfully, as Vash continues to just not say anything at all, oh you really done it now!
He laughs and makes you tense up. He looks at the flowers with a bright smile and continues to laugh he sees the look on your face and reaches out taking your hand in his. “I'm not laughing at you, it's just… I've never been gifted flowers before!” You stare at him blankly… and then blush you literally just bought flowers from his shop and gave them to him to confess. Of course, he’s never got gifted flowers before! He owns a flower shop; you are so dumb.
“Don’t worry it's really sweet, I love them! And what they mean…” Vash says kindly squeezing your hand, “Um but yeah, the flowers yesterday were a confession of sorts… I was just too much of a coward to actually tell you.” Vash says with a slight laugh and a blush high on his cheeks. It makes you feel better, that Vash is just as nervous about the whole thing as you, it makes you smile and squeeze his hand back.
“Well, I like you too…and I was hoping, we could go on a date? Start seeing each other more?” You tell him, he smiles letting go of your hand to take one of the lavender roses out of the bouquet and leaning forward to tuck it behind your ear. “That would be really nice, and I was enchanted to meet you too by the way,” Vash says pointing to the lavender rose, he gives you a cheeky smile as you blush. It was so worth it to stop into this little flower shop, you knew you managed to walk out with more than just flowers.
#Why yes you get a taylor swift reference in the story#this like 2700 words of FLUFF and flower language that's probs wrong lol#trigun stampede#vash#vash x reader#vash the stampede x reader#vash imagines#vash x you#vash x y/n#trigun stampde#trigun stampede headcanons#trigun stampede x reader#trigun fic#trigun x reader#trigun stampede x you#vash the stampede x y/n#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede
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