There is a smell of hot wildflowers in the pale dome of his flesh shoulder. You press your nose to it and think of a field on fire, or fire coming to a field, red flowers turned redder in a dancing lick of flame.
He stills beside you, like he's trying to hide his breathing, trying to keep from spooking something wild. But you breathe him in unflinching, turning your face slowly so instead of your nose your cheek is against him next, then your ear, then back the other way, skin rolling softly against skin, until your lips claim the scarred expanse bared by the cut of his tight black top.
You want to show him that you aren't afraid, that he has nothing that could make you run. That you can gather him into your arms and fold him there like good clean linen, something to hold gently, to cherish.
Long fingers brush the back of your neck, trembling just a little. "Mayfly-"
You shush him, the fingers tensing then relaxing, like the wings of a butterfly against your nape, testing the air. You trace your lips up to his jaw, then brush against the corner of his nervous mouth.
"I love you, Vash."
"But-"
You swallow his protests, their floral taste dissolving against your mouth. Vash pants, looks down at you with wide eyes, honest eyes, eyes that tell you he doesn't know whether or not to run.
So you lean back, let go. Give him the opening, unpinned by anything except your stare, by the words you're repeating, low and even. "I love you."
He laughs breathlessly, his body still tense, thrumming, taut. He leans forward, then back. He looks away, at the wide blue sky. His metal hand cards through the stiff peaks of his hair, knocking them into angles that dip down toward his brow.
“I love you,” he says back, rolling the words like ice on his tongue so they come out half-melted. He powers down, almost, the nervous energy dissipating, the coil of his limbs loosening in the heat.
“I do. I love you,” he offers, again, and it hangs between you, shimmering like a mirage before you surge forward and shatter it, throwing your arms around his wide shoulders, feeling the meat and metal of his body, pressing him in until he can feel your heartbeat, the scattered points of your pulse beneath your neck, your wrists, your thigh. All his.
Vash kisses you tenderly. He cups your face with both hands and gently pulls you closer to him. He slowly studies every feature of your face, then presses his lips to yours in a long, chaste kiss. He pulls away briefly, runs his thumbs over your cheeks, looks lovingly into your eyes, and soon gives you a second kiss, this time not so restrained. He gently parts your lips, deepening the kiss and sensually caressing your tongue with his. His eyes are closed so that nothing interferes with his enjoyment of the sensations. When you pull away from each other, he wraps his arms around your waist, presses his forehead against yours and a soft smile appears on his lips.
Nicholas D. Wolfwood
Nicholas kisses you hungrily, as if it were his last time. He cups your face with one hand, runs his thumb over your lower lip, and kisses you decisively. He kisses deeply, slowly, insistently sliding his tongue over yours, leaving no corner of your mouth untouched. His breath is saturated with cigarette smoke. The hand that was cupping your face slides down to your neck, his other hand rests on your waist, and he hugs you tightly. The kiss lasts until you start to run out of oxygen and push him away. But he immediately pulls you back toward him, running his hands through your hair, ruffling it, and pressing his lips to the top of your head.
Livio
Livio kisses you timidly. He tenderly wraps his large hand around your wrist and pulls you toward him, forcing you to take a step forward. His tall figure leans over you, and he gently touches your lips with his, as if asking for permission. He is so afraid of doing something wrong, of ruining everything with his actions. His kisses, at first timid or even hesitant, become bolder, and his hands rest on either side of your waist, gently squeezing and caressing your sides. He continues to press your lips together in a kiss again and again, and each time it's not enough for him, he needs it so badly. Finally, pulling away, he presses you against his broad chest and buries his nose in your hair.
#1 ) You show him that you love him by starting with small things.
♡ㅤNotesㅤ⁾⁾ㅤEnglish isn’t my first language, so I’m prone to making mistakes when I write. I do my best though, and I apologize if that makes for a less enjoyable read, however short my post may be. n_n I mainly write headcanons as well as spontaneous thoughts that I then develop into short scenarios. I don’t think I’m skilled enough yet to create long, elaborate fanfictions, so I prefer to stick to something simpler. Since my ideas come to me when I’m imagining comfort stories, they might not be very original. Thank you a lot for taking the time to read my work anyway, it’s really kind of you. <3ㅤ1998 VASH !! Works with Tristamp Vashㅤ,,ㅤGENDER NEUTRAL READER.
You’ve lost count of how many times Vash has avoided you. Every glance that was a little too tender, every gesture that betrayed your feelings seemed to push him further away. Yet it's not your affection he rejects, but himself. Who could truly desire a body as scarred as his ? The artificial coldness of his mechanical hand, the scars crisscrossing his skin, the metal grafted onto his limbs like mismatched patches of old fabric sewn together too many times. In his eyes, none of it deserves to be loved. So he pulls away, convinced that you deserve something better than him. And the weary angel that he is silently bears the guilt of not being able to offer you the paradise to which you seem to belong ...
However, even though he goes out of his way to keep you at a distance with his clumsy act, convinced that someone like you could never want him, you’re not the type to give up so easily ! With him, you have to know how to be patient. So you wait ... Because you’re not fooled. Because you see right through his game. From the very first moment your eyes met, you’ve been watching every one of his silences, every one of his dodges. You know that quiet sadness that dims the fragile sparkle in his eyes a little more each time you offer him a compliment he refuses to believe. You also notice that fleeting melancholy that cracks his smile when he thinks no one is watching. So if he accepts your words only to please you, without ever really letting them sink in, you’ll find another way to show him that you mean them.
As you cross the vast desert together, alone on the road leading to a new city, you absentmindedly let your fingers slide down to his iron-hard hand as if there were nothing unusual about this gesture. You tighten your grip slightly, just enough to make him understand that this contact is no accident, then you continue walking with feigned calm. Beside you, Vash freezes in a subtle way. His steps slow, and when he turns his eyes toward you, something in his expression wavers. He’s clearly searching for something to say, but the words remain stuck, trapped somewhere behind his silence. His hand doesn’t respond to yours, yet it doesn’t pull away either. He stands there, lost in his sudden confusion. A subtle flush colors his cheeks as his gaze, at first surprised, shyly avoids yours.
" D-Don't you want to hold my other hand ? "
" No, not really ... Why would that matter ? "
You carry on without saying a word, as if that simple gesture were enough to say it all. Yet, walking beside you, he feels something gently blossoming in his chest, fragile and disheveled like a bouquet. He tries to keep up with your pace, but the confusion you’ve stirred within him makes each of his steps a little less sure. This time, he doesn’t try to defuse the situation with an absurd joke or a clumsy remark. He simply lets you have your way. Eyes downcast, cheeks tinged with warmth, Vash unwittingly betrays what he dares not put into words. No one had ever taken his hand before, and certainly not this one. Even though he remains convinced he doesn’t deserve such a tender gesture, he can’t deny that he loves how it feels between you, however awkward it may be because of him. If he can’t feel your touch, he clings to it nonetheless with a timid tenderness. You walk on like this to the nearest town, the journey unfolding in that peace he so strongly advocates and which he is rediscovering with you. He loved it.
Because I am ill and depressed and I would like my blorbos to hold me about it. (Literally I am in the middle of the worst cold of my fucking LIFE right now but I persist. Somehow.)
Also it’s kinda wild that it’s taken me this long to write anything for Trigun considering it’s taken over my life entirely since I finished watching TriStamp a while back? So here's me trying to rectify that.
TW/CWs: Written with no definitive versions of these characters in mind (except Knives/Nai) but my clearest point of reference is TriStamp, probably overly sappy in places because I’m allowed it as a treat, pretty romantic in tone because I’m Normal, barely proofread.
Likes and Reblogs appreciated, RQs are open, it’s all under the cut! (If anyone sends me a Trigun request I will kiss you on the mouth /p)
I’m experimenting with layouts, too. What do you guys think?
🥀 Vash the Stampede
Please hold him he has been through so much and he deserves it—
Triple S-Tier fucking cuddler. I will not be convinced otherwise, he’s just the perfect shape for it.
He’ll lay down first and let you move him however you want him so you’re comfy first. Partially does this because of his chronic need to people please and partially because he’s slept in so many weird positions over the years that he genuinely doesn’t mind if it means he gets to hold you.
If you ask, though, his favorite position is any one that makes it easy to put his face against your neck. He just wants to be close.
Being a Plant means he’s, by default, very cool to the touch, I think. Vash is a Well Ventilated King like that—
Also if you let him I think he’ll sneak little kisses sometimes. They never last more than a second or two, but this is what happens when you’re in smoochin’ distance!!
He has dreams most nights, so that means a bit of sleep-talking and mumbling, but if you pet his hair he usually calms down, nuzzling in closer and giving you a little squeeze about it.
🍭 Nicholas D. Wolfwood
Another man who desperately needs a cuddle.
I think he takes a bit more convincing than Vash, though. Like Vash’ll drop everything to give you a hug but Nico is, ironically enough, more of a cat about it. You gotta let him come to you, y’know?
But if you do it’s really nice. He wants to be as close as possible, because he cares a lot and he trusts you, but he’s bad at saying it and this is a good way to make up for all the silence.
He’s strong and you can feel it, but he’s careful. He never crushes you, he's just got you tight so you’re up against his chest all night.
Also this man is a radiator. Blankets are not recommended when cuddling with him because you will wake up in a sea of your own sweat—
He can also be a bit of an asshole about his scruff. He knows it’s rough like the rest of him, but he’s less sorry about it than his calloused hands so guess who’s gonna be on the receiving end of some scratchy-ass nuzzles!!!
He doesn’t sleep-talk, but he does snore, so sometimes you gotta roll him over into a new position to spare yourself the sound.
📸 Meryl Stryfe
Augh... Meryl.... Underrated queen...
I feel like cuddling is not that hard of a sell for her, especially since Gunsmoke nights are cold as shit. And it's compounding with Meryl being one of those people with "feel how cold my hands are" circulation.
Probably gonna have to ask people to donate blankets to The Cause, but hey!! You'll be like two caterpillars sharing a cocoon by the end of the night, and isn't that what it's all about?
Also you're probably gonna want to make sure that cocoon is wrapped up tight because Meryl kicks in her sleep. Not hard, I don't think, but you can definitely feel it in any dreams you have--
Thankfully though, she's very quiet. No sleep-talking, no snoring (usually,) just. A Lotta Movement unless you're holding her especially tight.
I think she's very versatile when it comes to cuddling positions, though. Like some nights she wants to be held and then the next night she wants to be the one doing the holding.
And I'm very firmly of the belief that Meryl is the type to pack pjs whenever she goes somewhere. So like, with Vash and Wolfie you're going to have to deal with various states of undress, Meryl has a really cute, soft two-piece set of pjs.
💼 Milly Thompson
That's right!!! She's here too!!! I felt the need to include this sweetheart even though she's probably the main character I know the least about (one day I will finish '98 and Maximum, this I swear--)
Vash and Meryl being Well Ventilated Royalty 🤝 Nico and Milly being Human Shaped Hot Water Bottles--
Unlike Wolfie though, I think Milly is a much more comfortable heat. Like you can still have a light blanket over the two of you and be okay.
Also low-key I think Milly is objectively the best cuddler in this bunch. She came from a family with like a million kids, she's probably very used to sharing a bed while still being comfortable.
Like if you just tell her how you're the most comfortable she has the position down to a science. It's an observed science, but a science nonetheless!!!
If you ask her what she likes, though, the gal just wants to be cradled. She wants to feel precious and protected, damnit!!
Similar to Meryl, I think she has pajamas packed, and hers is this really long, comfy nightgown that feels really nice to hang on to.
🔪 Millions Knives / Nai
No. [Gets up from my desk]
[I am forcibly placed back in front of my computer] Alright, alright! Jesus Christ, look-- I can play in the space, but truly, down to my core, I feel like there is no way in hell Nai would go down for a cuddle on anyone else's terms. Just like. Idk. "Don't cuddle with this knife pervert" or whatever BDG said in that Polygon Mortal Kombat video I love so much.
Vash and Meryl are Well Ventilated. Nai is fucking freezing. Like the only temperature comfortable way to do this is for you to channel the thickest burrito you have ever seen and pray that's enough blankets.
You get. Maybe an arm out of this trade deal. At least at first. He already went out of his way to get you nice blankets, and you want more? In this economy he's trying to run into the ground??? Humans are so selfish! (He is doing all this complaining while hoisting you and your blankets' mass over to his side of whatever horizontal surface you have claimed as a bed--)
Aside from whatever limb he has on you, I just. I don't think he even sleeps. Like it turns more into a Forced Meditation for him where he just lays on his back and stares at the ceiling while you relax/get some z's.
The Weird Space Onesie Stays ON During Sex Cuddles.
Maybe. Maybe. If he likes you enough... You get to spend a cuddle session swaddled up in that spaceman-ass security blanket jacket/hood/whatever-it-is he wears.
Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader
Summary: In the stillness of the night, Vash quietly lingers on the part of you that means the most to him.
Content: fluff, reader is described as having gained weight and having insecurities because of it.
Word Count: 1k
If someone asked him what his favorite part of you was, Vash thinks he’d probably smile, rub the back of his neck, maybe laugh a little too softly before trying to answer.
Your eyes, maybe. The way they shine when they find him across a room, like he’s gravity and you’re happy to be pulled in. How they soften the second they land on him, as if the world fades a little in favor of his presence. Or maybe your smile—that bright, unfiltered joy that takes up your whole face and never fails to melt something inside him. Wide, genuine, the kind that crinkles the corners of your eyes. He treasures it like starlight. Especially the way it falters, just slightly, when he compliments you and you go all bashful, hiding behind your hands or ducking your head away like he can't see you. He’s a little weak for that too.
Of course, there’s the obvious stuff too. He’s noticed the curve of your hips, the sway of your walk, the way your shirt fits just right in certain places, and he can’t stop the way his gaze drifts down you when you saunter away. He loves all of it, genuinely.
But when he’s being honest with himself, when it’s quiet like this, with you dozing away at his side, your body warm and relaxed against him, he knows none of those things are what he cherishes most.
It’s this. Right here.
The soft weight of you leaning into him. The gentle pudge at your middle where his hand rests, rising and falling with every slow breath. The way your shirt lifts just slightly, revealing a sliver of skin that most people would overlook.
He doesn’t. He never does.
He notices every inch.
You didn’t always look like this. When he first met you, you were thinner. You’d brush off meals, say you weren’t hungry, or forget to eat at all when things got too hectic. Your clothes hung a little loose, and you moved like someone who was always carrying an invisible weight, but never the kind that showed.
Now... Now you’re softer. Rounder in places. You fill his arms in a way that makes his chest ache with something he doesn’t quite know how to name.
He knows you’re a little insecure about it. He’s caught the way your hands tug at your clothes sometimes, how your gaze lingers in the mirror longer than necessary. You’ve made a few quiet, self-deprecating comments, probably thinking he didn’t notice.
But he did.
And he’d said something simple in return, something honest. But it didn’t feel like enough. Because how could he explain the feeling this part of you evokes in him?
It’s not just desire, though yes, he finds you breathtaking. It’s not just affection, though there’s that too—endless, aching affection that coils in his chest every time he sees you smile.
No, it’s something else.
This softness, this proof of rest, of nourishment, of healing, it means more to him than he knows how to say. It’s not about how it looks. Not really. He would love you at any size, in any shape, in every version of yourself. Nothing would ever change the way his heart beats for you. His love has never been conditional, never tied to the surface.
It’s not about beauty. It’s about what it represents.
It’s a quiet testament to something tender and hard-won. That you're eating regularly. Sleeping properly. Laughing more. Letting yourself exist without fear or guilt or punishment. Letting yourself be cared for—by him, or by yourself. That’s what makes this so precious to him. Not the look of it, but the meaning behind it.
It means you’re not going hungry. It means you’ve let your body breathe, let him care for you, maybe.
And all he wanted in those moments of bitter self-deprecation, was to cup your face in his hands and tell you—
This is my favorite part.
He wishes he could explain it in a way that makes sense to you—that every time his hand runs over your side and finds that little bit of pudge, it settles something in him. He craves it. He knows how much the world can take from people. He knows how easily it strips joy away, replaces softness with sharpness, with edges made for defense. He’s seen it in so many others. He’s felt it in himself.
And when he sees you happy, when he sees you full of light and laughter and appetite, it fills his chest with something so deep and profound he doesn’t have words for it. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s all the things he thought he didn’t deserve, and yet here you are.
He rests his head against your shoulder, arms wrapped around your middle, and just holds you. Not to protect, not to fix. Just to be close. To feel your warmth against his chest, to feel the rise and fall of your breath under his palm.
This change. This weight. It means you're eating. It means you're letting yourself be. It means you're not running anymore, not just surviving on scraps of time and energy.
It means, maybe, that you’re letting him love you, and that you’re starting to love yourself, just a little, too.
He’s loved a lot of things in his life, but this—this gentle, growing joy he feels when he sees you well—is something precious and worth savouring.
He lets his thumb brush over the softness at your side, slow and soft and reverent. You shift in your sleep, nuzzling closer, and Vash smiles.
Yeah, if someone asked him, he could say eyes, smile, lips, all of that. They’d be right. They’d be true.
But his real answer?
The extra weight.
Because it's not just softness. It’s not just physical.
It’s proof.
Proof that you’re alive. That you’re healing. That you’ve chosen this—him—even in the quiet, vulnerable places where no one else looks.
And to him, there’s nothing more beautiful than that.
Summary: Is it possible for plants and humans to procreate? (sequel to "No More Denial")
Word Count: 4000+
Warnings: angst, cursing, injuries, some medical terminology, female reader, slightly suggestive content, pregnancy, fluff, comfort, reassurance, crying, good ending
a/n: Not proofread. Oh my gosh, I was listening to “Sea of Love - Cat Power” and I got very emotional, especially writing that first part with Vash being so sweet. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
[Sequel] "No More Denial"
Main Masterlist
Coldness shivered up his spine, the tremouring causing the tiniest shuffle from her to get closer despite being already as close as could be.
The sky was dark, twinkling in a star-like light, but he wasn’t looking up, no. Vash was looking at Y/N, the restful look on her face bringing him peace. His bright blue eyes took in every detail of her, from the wisps of hair to her soft lips, that parted with a light exhale of air.
It was the middle of the night, most definitely, and everyone was asleep but Vash couldn’t find it in him to do so. His mind was occupied, focused on Y/N who laid on her back, head tucked against Vash’s chest with his flesh arm wrapped under her to keep her where she was.
Ever since Y/N confessed that she might be pregnant, he thought of nothing else. They weren’t completely sure due to their physiological differences, but Vash couldn’t deny the flutter in his chest at the mere idea of it. At first, he was scared because if plants and humans could have children, then what would that do to a human body? Vash and his brother did start out as babies themselves, but they grew exceptionally faster than any human so if that were the case would Y/N survive a pregnancy like that.
However, in the couple of days since he found out, the nervousness faded to give way to excitement.
He didn’t say it out loud, but it was in the way he looked at Y/N; eyes watching intently at every little thing. Not that he didn’t do those things already since he had never been in love before, it was simply different. He watched how Y/N would tuck her hair behind her ear when it had fallen in her face, or how she’d laugh, heartfelt and contagious, or how she’d speak so softly to him when whispering those three words he grew accustomed to. In all those actions, little behaviors, his mind wondered if his child would have quirks like that.
Feeling her shift again, Vash followed Y/N as she subconsciously readjusted herself into a more comfortable position, without leaving his chest.
He smiled, tightening his hold a bit, before relaxing his body. Eyes trailed down from Y/N’s undisturbed features to her stomach; looking the same, with no bump to show, though Vash felt himself tear up anyway. He carefully raised his prosthetic hand to lay his palm fully over the expanse of her tummy.
“I hope you’re there, little one.” The blonde barely whispered, gaze flitting up to Y/N to now see the slightest of smiles at the corner of her lips. Whether it was conscious or her body’s familiarity with his touch, a deep warmth washed over his body, and pooled in his chest.
He really wanted to be a father.
Ship 3 was in sight even from a handful of miles away.
When Vash told Wolfwood, Meryl and Roberto that they needed to visit Ludia and the others at Ship 3, they were confused because, turns out, they had not caught a word that Y/N had spoken to Knives when he confronted her.
So Vash and Y/N explained.
“You’re pregnant?!” Both Wolfwood and Meryl sputtered out in shock, while Roberto stared wide eyed.
He sighed shortly after, “I’m not drunk enough for this.”
“Well to preface, we’re not exactly sure.” Vash anxiously explained, rubbing the back of his neck.
Y/N, who sat at the floor of the truck, spoke up. “I have all the symptoms though; fatigue, nausea, headaches, and I haven’t had my monthly…ya know.”
“Ah, say no more.” Meryl blurted out, understanding what she meant.
“But Ludia, can tell us more. She’ll be able to see if Y/N is actually pregnant or not. And she’ll be able to treat Y/N’s leg better than I can out here.” Vash added, gesturing to the entire desert surrounding them.
There was a pause between them, each person giving themselves a moment to breathe as they thought about the situation.
“Has this ever happened before? Between a plant and a human?” Meryl questioned, curiosity coating her tone with a hint of worry.
Y/N and Vash shared a glance then Vash answered solemnly, regretting that he didn’t have all the answers. “As far as I know, no. This has never happened before.”
“Then let’s get going. Can’t have a pregnant lady sitting out in the hot sun with a bloody leg.” Wolfwood chirped in, smirking with a cigarette in his mouth.
The group gave a small laugh, breaking the tension before they hit the road.
That was, now, three days ago, and they had finally arrived.
Vash walked to the front, being the first one to walk up to the enormous ship with Y/N cradled in his arms.
“Vash, you don’t have to carry me. I can walk.” Y/N protested, though made no attempt to stop him.
He grinned down at her with that award winning smile, “But this way, you won’t hurt your leg anymore and make it worse. Besides, I never heard any complaints about being held.”
Y/N bit her bottom lip, stuffing her face into his chest, feeling her face beam with embarrassment. Vash simply laughed.
“Get a room you two.” Meryl grumbled, trailing behind them.
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how we ended up in this situation.” Wolfwood retorted, puffing out a plume of smoke.
Meryl cringed at the comment, “Ew, shut up.”
Roberto reached into his jacket to pull out his flask then took a drink.
Once they stepped inside, the five of them were first met with Ludia, who smiled the moment she saw the blonde.
“Vash! It’s good to see you again.” Ludia happily greeted, walking over to them but quickly noticed not only Y/N being carried by Vash, but her bandaged leg. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine, we just ran into a bit of trouble a few days ago.” Vash casually explained, trying not to think too much about what happened.
Ludia spared a look to Y/N then the others behind them, seeing the exhaustion on all of their faces and when she look back to Vash, she could see he was as tired, maybe even more so. She expected nothing less from him.
She tenderly smiled, “Well, let’s take her to the medical bay and fix up her leg. And we can get some food for the rest of you.”
“Yes please.” Meryl squeaked out, pressing her hands together in a prayer-like motion.
Ludia gestured down the hallway behind her, and they once again followed her. Along the way to the med bay, Bradd turned up. As soon as he saw Vash, he sighed, “What is it this time? Don’t tell me you wreck your arm again.”
Vash laughed at that, “Ha! Oh come on, give me some credit. It’s not like I go looking for trouble.”
“Yet it finds you all the same.” Bradd retorted, walking with them.
“Hey Bradd, I’m going to take Vash and Y/N to the medical wing, can you take the others to go get some food?” Ludia suggested, glancing over her shoulder.
Bradd shoved a hand into his pocket and relented. “I suppose. Come on, now.”
“Finally..” Wolfwood muttered out rather loudly causing Meryl to punch him in the side. “Hey!”
“Don’t be so rude!” Meryl lectured him.
“Will you two stop it?” Roberto interjected while the two of them began to bicker back and forth.
It was then that they turned down another path with Bradd as Ludia led Vash and Y/N down the same hall. Eventually, the three came across a metal door with a plus sign over the door, along with the words “Medical Bay” over the top. Ludia scanned her palm on the glowing panel beside the door and it opened.
“Go ahead and set her on the table, I’ll grab the sutures and needle.” Ludia instructed, stepping to the side, opening a drawer to look through its contents.
Vash did as Ludia asked, and carefully set Y/N down, maneuvering her in such a way as not to irritate her wound. Once Ludia found what she was looking for, she got to work. The task of disinfecting the multiple cuts around Y/N’s calf was grueling, albeit painful. As soon as the wet gauze made contact with the damaged skin, Y/N let out a hiss of discomfort, causing Ludia to utter out a quick apology.
It took several minutes, cleaning the dried blood, and sterilizing the injury itself taking up a good chunk of time. However, when it came down to the actual stitching of the wound, it went much quicker.
On the last stitch, Ludia finally spoke up, slightly startling the two. “So Vash, you want to tell me what else is going on.”
Vash perked up, surprised. “Oh! I should've guessed you’d be able to tell, Ludia. Actually, there is another reason we came here.”
He paused waiting for Ludia to respond, all she did was hummed, signaling for him to continue while she wrapped a clean bandage around Y/N’s leg.
Suddenly, Vash felt himself grow embarrassed, face glowing a bright red. “Well you see, I uh…m-me and Y/N were uh..together and we…” He trailed off, giving Ludia space to speak.
“‘Together’ how?”
“Romantically.” Y/N cut in, after seeing Vash struggle getting the words out. Though she didn’t blame him, she was feeling a bit sheepish too. Ludia acted as a guardian for Vash for decades so talking about this kind of stuff almost felt like telling your parents about a crush or when your partner meets your family for the first time.
Awkward.
The older woman tilted her head up in a slow nod while at the same time raising a brow in confusion.
Vash took a deep breath, steadying his nerves for what he was about to divulge. “Okay, to cut straight to the point; there’s a possibility that Y/N might be…pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” Ludia gawked, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
Vash nodded, “Yeah. But I wanted to ask you to confirm that’s what’s going on because I’m not sure how possible it is for a human and plant to have children.”
“Me neither.” Ludia admitted without thinking.
She then watched Y/N frown, anxiety written all over her face, and Vash’s flesh arm wrapped around her shoulder to gently squeeze the space there to silently comfort her.
“But! Just because I don’t know doesn’t mean it’s not possible.” Ludia quickly corrected, “I can run some tests, confirm if Y/N is indeed pregnant and figure out if you two are compatible. For that I’ll need blood samples from both of you.”
“Of course.” Y/N agreed, reaching up to place her hand over Vash’s that sat on her shoulder.
“Thank you, Ludia.” Vash expressed, voice gentle and full of gratitude.
Ludia provided a tender smile, “No need to thank me, Vash. You know that whatever you need, you can just ask.”
From there, Y/N and Vash sat patiently, watching as Ludia gathered the supplies necessary for the blood samples. First, she turned to Y/N, asking her to hold her arm out while pulling out a small vial with a cap on the end of it, to protect the needle. Y/N did as she asked, raising her arm after pulling up her sleeve and watched as Ludia tied a rubber band around her bicep, wiped the area at the crevice of her arm then methodically pushed the needle into a vein. Immediately, blood began to seep into the tiny vial filling it up in only a minute or two.
Once done, she wiped off the area of the vein again then placed a band-aid over it.
Ludia repeated this procedure with Vash; taking out a fresh vial and collecting a sample of blood from him.
“There. All done.” the older woman stated, cleaning down the area and setting the samples aside. “Now, it’ll take a while to composite the results, but in the meantime I suggest you two get something to eat.”
“I appreciate this.” Vash expressed again.
Ludia shook her head, “It’s no problem at all.” She finally looked to Y/N, sensing the worry coming off her, “I know this might not make you feel better, but try not to worry. We have the technology to help you, no matter what’s going on and I promise we’ll help you.”
Y/N hesitantly nodded, giving a tight smile in return. “Thank you.”
Without much ceremony, Ludia took the samples and headed out of the medical bay, leaving Vash and Y/N alone.
Vash walked from Y/N’s side to stand fully in front of her. “How are you doing?”
Y/N shrugged thoughtfully, “I’m not sure. I guess I just don’t know what to think about all this.”
“What do you mean?” Vash gently probed, though prepared himself for the outcome that Y/N might not want to talk about it any further.
Y/N began to twiddle her fingers, chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous tick she always demonstrated when she felt overwhelmed. “I…uh..This is all so different than anything I’ve ever been through and we don’t even know if-”
She trailed off, falling into thought again. Her gaze drifted to the steel gray floor, eyes absentmindedly following every scuff and speck of dirt that laid across the material. “If I’m really pregnant.”
It was then that Vash saw it, clear as day; the yearning in her eyes. In his long life, Vash has seen many people, of all different lives and hardships, but one thing he’s seen that has remained constant; the paternal love and care of a mother. He didn’t know his birth mother per say but he knew some semblance of a mother’s care from Rem. She went above and beyond for him and his brother, and as he got used to life on No Man’s Land, he witnessed that kind of maternity still existed.
Vash also realized that he hadn’t asked or given much thought about how Y/N viewed being a mother, but now, her expression seemed to answer that on its own.
Still though, she was understandably worried and he wanted her to feel better.
“There’s something I’d like to show you, if that’s okay.” Vash abruptly suggested.
Y/N’s expression morphed into one of surprise then mellowed to acceptance, if perhaps a little confused. “Uh..sure. That’d be fine.”
“But we have to walk, soooo if you don’t mind, Mayfly?” Vash teased, extending his arms out, insinuating that he was going to carry her again.
She couldn’t help but let way to a grin as she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Vash’s neck. With ease, Vash slid his arms under Y/N’s legs and torso and pulled her to rest her cheek against his chest. He exited the medical bay and turned right as he walked out.
It took a few minutes, Vash getting flustered on the way there when he looked down to Y/N staring up at him and her admitting she was admiring him, but eventually they made it. Two giant steel doors slid back, and opened up, revealing the flourishing greenery housed under the glass dome.
Y/N had seen the greenhouse once before, but she hadn’t had the time to admire it as they had been in a hurry to leave. However, seeing it now without the rush, Y/N felt the tingling of excitement, a delightful shock that stirred butterflies in her stomach.
She observed all around, taking note of all the lush plants, what they were taught were called trees and flowers. If there was one place on this planet she would call paradise, it’d be this place, next to being in Vash’s arms that is.
Vash walked forward until the path split four ways, he turned slightly left, walking a few more feet and finally eased himself onto his knees near the patch of blue flowers. He lowered Y/N softly to the ground then sat down beside her, shoulders touching from sitting so close together.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” Vash breathed wistfully, admiring the flora around them.
Y/N hummed, “It is.”
There was a beat of silence, then two, then three until…“When I was growing up here, the last couple of decades at least, I’d come here when there was a lot on my mind and I couldn’t get anything straight.”
Y/N spared him a glance, watching his tender gaze trace over each flower.
He continued, “This place helped me to calm down, come back to myself and simply air out what I was thinking without any pressure.”
Vash reached over, using his flesh hand to carefully caress at one of the petals while in thought. “And I thought that this would be the perfect place to talk. Just you and me.”
“Talk about what?” Y/N asked curiously.
Vash finally looked at her, eyes full of unadulterated love and affection; the same way he always looked at her. “About having children together.”
Despite the day's events, Y/N sat frozen, side-lined by the sudden topic of discussion even though she had no reason to be surprised. Perhaps it was the abrupt way Vash was bringing it up or maybe it was because she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for the conversation at all.
Either way, it was happening now.
“I just realized that we never really talked about it and I thought we should talk about it now while we wait!” Vash spluttered out, his prosthetic hand coming up to rub the back of his neck bashfully.
A heat ran up into his neck and surfacing his face, painting his cheeks and his ears red.
He took a breath to settle his heart beat, “I think it’s time that I confess my feelings about the whole situation. And let me start out by saying, I absolutely want to have children with you, my love.”
“Seriously?” Y/N gawked, slack jawed and shocked.
Vash nodded confidently. “When you first told me that you might be pregnant, admittedly, I was scared. Scared because plants grow fast, and I have no idea what might happen to you; scared because I don’t know if I’ll even be a good father, never had one so I have nothing to compare to…”
He paused, flopping his hands into his lap, lost in thought for a moment. All the while, Y/N watched him intently, waiting in anticipation for him to continue.
“But I’ve been in love before either, and that’s been the best experience of my life so far. So if it’s you and me…” Vash reaches toward Y/N, grasping her hand into his own and intertwining their fingers together, savoring the radiating warmth from her skin touching his. “Then I believe that we can do anything as long as we’re together.”
Instantly, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, a fluttering originating from her stomach then rising to her chest in a flurry of affection. She gave Vash’s hand a loving squeeze, shortly lying her other hand on top.
“Vash, I want to have children with you too. More than anything and while I am nervous, I want this.”
Vash sighed in relief, now realizing he had been holding his breath. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
Y/N smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You’re right too, if we have each other, we can do or get through anything. We’ve gotten this far afterall.”
Vash leaned down, planting a kiss to her hair before resting his head on top of hers. “And then some.”
She hummed in agreement, taking a deep breath then heavily sighing, feeling her tightly wound nerves begin to relax under his touch.
The couple sat there for a good long while, silently, basking in the languid atmosphere created by their warm bodies and whispering sweet nothings here and there to fluster each other. Overall, it was a fifty-fifty success rate.
Though eventually, the huge metal doors opened and there they both spotted Ludia walking towards them.
For a moment, their comfort waned into a little unease.
At first, her expression seemed pensive, attempting to hold back whatever terrible string of sentences she was about to utter.
“I got the results back.” She spoke subtly.
Vash gulped fearfully, “And?”
Suddenly, she broke out in a grin, beaming with elation. “It seems that you two are compatible, more than compatible; it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”
Vash and Y/N traded glances, eyes wide and urgent. “Does this mean-?” Their eyes snapped back up to the older woman.
Ludia nodded, "Congratulations, Y/N. You are indeed pregnant.”
Vash and Y/N looked down to one another once more, simply staring, completely dumbfounded before erupting in the widest grins they could muster, and tearful laughs.
“I can’t believe it!” Y/N exclaimed, hugging Vash tightly, one hand cupping the back of his neck.
“I can’t either!” Vash laughed, a stream of tears already falling down his face as he snugly hugged her back. “We’re having a baby.”
Y/N began to sob, closing her eyes and sinking into Vash completely, into her home. “Thank you, Vash.”
Vash whimpered, hearing her grateful cry, “No, thank you, Mayfly.”
Hes so stupid and I love him and I need to kiss his dumb face!
You speak only truth, anon
↓ Under the cut ↓
B = Body (what is their favourite part of their partner's body?)
The waist and tummy area, because it's where he holds you and picks you up the most. When you're cuddling, he sometimes likes to pull up your shirt just to give your tummy kisses (or raspberries because he's a silly goober).
E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around their partner?)
It takes him awhile to show his real emotions around you, but when he does, he gets so much softer. While he does remain goofy, he expresses his love more often with soft sighs and gazing lovingly at you.
K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss?)
He always makes a point to kiss purposefully and appreciatively. He rarely ever does a little peck, because he wants you to know how much he loves you and he just can't resist the feeling of your lips on his. His kisses are a bare minimum of 2 seconds.
L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)
As much as I'd love to fantasize about him blabbering about his feelings for you, I don't think he'd ever confess. He'd be so scared that he's not enough or too much for you, convinced that you deserve better. HOWEVER, if you confess, he'll basically be interrupting you with "I-I LIKE YOU TOO!!!" so relieved that you said it first.
P = Pet Names (what do they like to call their partner?)
All entirely food-based names. Sweetie pie, honey bunny, cupcake, etc.
Summary: after being driven out of one more town, you are hell-bent on making Vash smile, getting shit-faced on whisky in the process and make a public love declaration
Content: fluff, a hint of angst, alcohol consumption, established relationship, reader is not described, but is shorter than Vash and being called "girl once", reader is a rabid racoon, reader also almost doxes Vash
Word Count: 1.9k
The wind still carries dust from the last town, fine grains clinging to your boots and the hem of your coat as you and Vash make your way through what seems to be the main street of the next settlement. It’s smaller than the last one. Quiet. Dry. Half-asleep in the dropping heat of the late afternoon.
You cast a glance at Vash, walking beside you with that slow, heavy gait - like he’s trying to move casually, like he’s not still weighed down by the last town’s betrayal. He saved them. Again. Put himself between a whole village and a corrupt mayor with greedy hands, stopped the backroom deal that would’ve sold their only working plant. And what did he get in return?
Recognition. And not a good kind.
His name shouted by someone in panic. Guns raised. People you’d just seen smiling now holding him at gunpoint. You got out, barely. Another escape, another scorched trail behind you.
He hasn’t said much since.
He’s trying. You can see it in the small things - the way he gives you that casual smile when your eyes meet, how he lets you ramble to fill the silence, how he still takes and carries your pack even though he’s clearly been grazed in the skirmish. But his heart’s definitely frayed at the edges from all that, no matter how often the same scenario repeats itself.
And you don’t know how to fix it.
You’re walking down the main street when you feel a tug at your sleeve.
“Wait,” Vash says, crouching suddenly.
You pause, startled, until you realize-
Your shoelace.
He’s tying it.
Carefully. Neatly. Nimble fingers working on your boot, then he pats it gently and looks up at you with a tiny smile, like it’s nothing. Well, it is nothing, but right now? For you? It’s not.
This man - this man, who the world keeps kicking, keeps punishing for kindness - stopping in the middle of a sunbaked street with two heavy bags on his shoulders to tie your stupid, worn-out boot like you’re the most important person alive.
And you melt.
Like fully melt. Legs weak, heart shattered, throat tight with something that almost hurts.
How is this world so cruel to someone like him?
You want to scream it into the sky. You want to return back to that god forgotten middle-of-nowhere town and punch each stupid cruel person, who raised their gun at Vash after he showed them nothing but kindness, risking his own health for their stupid fucking plant.
Instead, you breathe out, help him up, link your arm through his, and say, “Let’s find a bar. I think I owe you a drink.”
The bar is dim and a little too warm, but it's full of noise, and people, and blessed normalcy. You slide into a booth with Vash and order something strong - just one, you tell yourself. Just enough to warm the blood and shake the road off your bones.
But the tiredness catches up to you faster than you expect. And the alcohol does hit quicker. Suddenly, everything’s glowing, and Vash is sitting across from you, all pale skin and soft eyes and messy, windswept hair, and it all just bursts out of you.
“Okay,” you say, pointing your finger at him like you’re about to deliver a profound truth. “Okay. Listen.”
He tilts his head. “I’m listening.”
“You’re my boyfriend.”
He nods slowly, amused. “I am.”
You giggle, then cover your face for a second. You feel hot. Your cheeks feel on fire. “God. That’s crazy. Like, my boyfriend. You’re - you’re Vash.”
He leans forward, folding his arms on the table. “Last I checked, yeah.”
“You’re tall,” you say, like that alone is a feat. “Like really tall. So rude of you, actually.”
He chuckles a bit, shoulders shaking. “Sorry about that. I’d try to be shorter if I knew I’d have to date a pipsqueak,” he says, words lacking any malice.
“And you’re so pretty,” you go on, completely undeterred. “Like—obscenely pretty. Unfairly. And your eyes? Are you kidding me? They should be illegal. Arrest this man.”
“What’s gotten into you?” he mutters, but you just find his hands on the table and place yours on them, squeezing his fingers.
“You’re kind. And gentle. And funny in a way that sneaks up on you. And you care so damn much it makes me want to punch a wall sometimes.”
He goes red, the way he always does when you’re too honest. “You’re just drunk- ”
“No. No. I mean it. I meant it sober when I told you first, I mean it now, I’ll mean it tomorrow and next week and forever probably. You’re the love of my life, Vash.”
He looks like you just ripped the air out of his lungs. His lips part like he’s going to say something, then closes them again.
You nudge his foot under the table. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re perfect and I’m allowed to be in love with you.”
He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”
You narrow your eyes. “Wanna bet?”
The music picks up without warning—something fast and chaotic, full of clapping and quick guitar strums, the kind of tune that makes the tired workers forget about the day fully filled with labor gather near the center of the saloon. People are stomping in rhythm, spinning, laughing. The whole room feels like it’s vibrating with joy.
And Vash?
He’s smiling. A little. Watching the dance with that faraway look, like it’s something meant for other people.
You’re not having that.
You set your glass down a little too hard and reach across the table, grabbing his hand before he can protest. “Dance with me.”
He blinks. “I don’t…wait, now?”
You’re already pulling him up, dragging him toward the center where the music is loudest, bootheels scuffing across worn wooden floorboards. “Yes, now. Come on, pretty boy.”
You plant your hands on his shoulders, eyes bright, and start bouncing in rhythm. “Just follow me!”
“You’re drunk,” he says, grinning helplessly as he tries to keep up.
You only laugh at that. “And you’re not drunk enough. Let’s just have fun!”
The two of you find a rhythm after that - stumbling, chaotic, completely unsynchronized - but it doesn’t matter. You’re laughing, breathless, dodging other dancers as you swirl around the floor. Vash keeps one hand pressed to your waist, the other tangled in yours, always steadying you even as your feet nearly trip over themselves.
Vash holds your hand steadily, twirls you in a way that definitely isn’t part of any real dance, and dips you dramatically mid-beat. You squeal, clinging to him as the patrons of bar who saw you hoot and holler.
“Show-off!” you gasp.
“I’m having fun. Isn’t it what you wanted?” he grins, flushed and breathless.
And it’s all exactly what you wanted from this evening: Vash happy, dancing, even if just to appease you, but he’s here and you’re in his arms and you - you suddenly feel even more drunk from the slightly warm piss-poor whisky, fast-paced dance and the way your boyfriend’s pretty eyes now glance at you with mirth in them. And suddenly you have a very important announcement to make.
“Thank you,” you whisper, swaying just slightly with the beat. “For letting me drag you into stupid things like this.”
Then you slip out of his grasp and go straight for the bar and after barman pours you a glass of whisky, you down it in one gulp and climb onto the nearest free barstool, and with absolutely no hesitation, shout:
“HEY EVERYONE!”
The bar quiets, and Vash goes rigid across the room like he feels like whatever is about to happen is going to end his life. You feel like you shouldn’t be doing this, but the rational part of you is completely silent at that moment.
So you grin, hands cupped around your mouth “THIS GUY RIGHT HERE - ” you point dramatically at Vash - “IS MY BOYFRIEND!”
Someone whistles.
“HE’S TALL! HE’S PRETTY! HE’S KIND! AND GUESS WHAT ELSE - HE’S VASH THE STAMPEDE!”
A moment of silence.
And then - laughter. Not cruel, not disbelieving in a mean way. Just amused. A few people raise their glasses and shout back things like:
“Sure he is, sweetheart!”
“Better hope the real one doesn’t show up!”
Someone pats Vash on the back as they walk by, like, “You lucky bastard.”
“Ya better take ya girl home till she falls down somewhere, cowboy,” another worried voice from the crowd tells him.
Vash looks like he wants to slide under a table and never be seen again, face flushed redder than his coat. He jogs over to you, gently guiding you down from the chair like you might take flight.
“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” he says to you under his breath, his eyes still widened, but a ghost of smile can be seen on his face.
“Pfft. No one believes me anyway,” you giggle. “Your secret identity is safe, o mysterious outlaw.”
The desert night wraps around you like a slow lullaby, air cooler now, stars scattered overhead like someone spilled a handful of diamonds across the sky.
You’re clinging to Vash’s arm, one foot in front of the other in an uneven shuffle, eyes drooping but smile still wide.
“Did you see their faces?” you mumble, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you walk. “When I said you were Vash the Stampede? That one guy almost choked on his drink.”
Vash laughs under his breath, that soft low one he only does when he’s happy and embarrassed at the same time. “You’re never drinking in public again.”
You gasp dramatically, poking his chest. “Rude. You loved it.”
“I did not.”
“You did!” You pause, squinting up at him. “You smiled. Three times. And I caught it. I really tried hard to see your smile the whole evening, you know?”
He groans playfully and wraps an arm around your waist, steering you away from the edge of the sidewalk when you wobble again.
You snort. “How’re you still so steady? That’s unfair. I feel like I’m swimming.”
He tilts his head toward you, eyes glittering with mischief. “Maybe I’m just used to carrying trouble around.”
“Rude again!” But you’re laughing, breathless, and it makes him soften all over again.
There’s a pause as you lean against him, walking slower now. The silence isn’t heavy this time. It’s soft. Gentle. Filled with the afterglow of something you can’t quite name.
“Hey, Vash?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re gonna marry me someday, y’know.” You mumble with confidence only a drunk version of you possesses.
“I…wha- you…?!”
“Not right now,” you mumble, drowsy. “But like. Eventually. I’m just letting you know.”
He’s silent.
You peek up at him.
His face is red. His ears are bright red. But his smile—his smile is there, tugging his lips up.
