Trigun Writings

Headcanons | Drabbles | Reader Fics

Asks | About Me | FAQ | Other Writing Blogs

Character Collage Backgrounds

Askbox is always open for requests, questions and general conversation!

Please keep in mind that this blog will contain sexually explicit content, and it will be tagged as #spicy.

I am, thank you for asking! My ADHD-riddled brain has just been stolen away by the new Legend of Zelda game since it came out a few weeks ago (@breathofthewildwritings is where I’d post any shenanigans) and I’ve actually been working on a business project of my own over at @multiversepostalservice!

That’s because I usually keep my askbox open all the time on most of my writing blogs—generally a thing of habit, since I never know when a particular request will catch my eye or I’ll get bit by a writing bug. I forget that a lot of other blogs usually list their askbox status somewhere though, and have added that info on my pinned post!

Rating: General

Relationship: Fem!Reader/Vash/Wolfwood

Summary: On the way home, Vash and Wolfwood argue.

Written by @blood--hunter

Note: A continuation of Bad Habits, but it’s not necessarily canon unless you, the reader, want it to be. The reader is married to Vash and Wolfwood. Implied to be pregnant. Never shown.

“Can’t believe you forgot the car…” Wolfwood grumbled, adjusting the rope over his shoulder. It was one thing to have to carry his weapon, but something else entirely to drag a man halfway across the desert.

Vash has the decency to at least look a little ashamed.

“Well, forgot is a strong word.”

“You got it fucking stolen. Didn’t you?”

His husband reamains quiet and Wolfwood can only shake his head. “You’re the reason I need to smoke.”

The leader of the Glass-Gang is still passed out, so there’s that. His luck wasn’t all bad today and there was the thought of returning home to their wife with full pockets and a job well done. That—at the very least—lifted his spirits.

“So,” Wolfwood says, trying to focus on something other than the near unbareable heat, “I was thinking Leon D. Wolfwood.”

Vash bulks, swinging his blond head around to look at him. “Who says he’s gonna get your last name!”

“Because I’m the only one who has one! Dumbass!”

“Well!” Vash stalls, obivously trying to think of a comeback as he pouts, “What about Kevin the Stampede?”

“Kevin? Really.”

His husband nods resolutely, “Or maybe—maybe something like Colton!”

“You just really want a hard ‘K’ sound, don’t you?”

“Yeah! I think it sounds cool!”

Wolfwood rolls his eyes and looks back as the man he had been tugging across the sand begins to stir.

“Looks like our bounty is waking up.”

Vash eyes the man as well before looking at Wolfwood with a smile, “Why don’t we ask him? Hey! Do you like Leon or Kevin?”

“Huh?” Is all the gang leader says.

Nicholas shakes his head, passing the rope to Vash.

“I’ve been dragging him for half a mile now. You take him.”

“No way!”

“You’re the one that lost the car!”

Vash takes the rope, pouting. Nick can only watch him, one brow raised. He didn’t dare slip a cigarette into his mouth, knowing that it would just end up flying into the desert like a piece of paper. Though, his fingers did itch for the lighter in his pocket.

“And if it’s a girl?” He asks, not thinking.

Vash gets that far away look on his face, the look he gets when he or their wife accidentally trips on something from his past. She’s always better at soothing him, but Wolfwood doesn’t know what to do in these situations, too used to being “tough” and not letting these things get to him.

“Rem. We’ll name her Rem.”

He’s silent for a few moments more, letting the sun beam down on the back of his neck. “Yeah. I think I like that.”

“I think Kevin sounds good.”

Both Vash and Nick swing their heads around, staring at the man half unconcious in the sand, a rope firmly around his middle.

“Yeah, maybe Leon isn’t so bad…” Vash murmurs, beginning to walk once more, the gang leader slowly being dragged after him.

“Told you … Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Ask her and find out! But I don’t think she’ll go for the middle initial.”

“D is not that bad!”

I didn’t get a chance to properly respond to that before it seems to have disappeared (and I swear I’m not insane) and while I can’t recall who had left that, if that person is reading this, then please know I really appreciated your kind words and greatly relate to the experience as one who struggles with depression frequently and finds a lot of joy in connecting with new fandoms and the communities of people they foster

Vash slowly realizing that he’s falling in love with her and might even wanna marry her one day. Just him enjoying every bit of time he spends with her.

When the thought first crosses his mind, its too early in the morning to ponder upon it—the sun has barely risen from its hiding spot behind the horizon, and the sky is aglow in pinks and oranges so beautiful that it’s hard to believe someone could die beneath it in the span of just a few hours. The land is barren for iles beyond where the sand kisses the sky, but it looks so peaceful at a mere glance. Strokes of golden dunes beneath the brief but peaceful dawn.

But the sky isn’t what’s holding Vash’s attention.

You must have gotten up early, possibly when the sky was dark and the stars still visible. You’re lightly dressed, but facing away from him and sipping lightly a drink which must have been warmed by the fire not too long ago given that the ashes are still smoldering. Coffee? Tea? Vash can’t tell, but it smells nice on the soft morning breeze.

He watches your silhouette against the horizon as the thought crosses his mind for a second time, but ultimately decides it’s better to pretend that he’s still sleeping.

-

When it happens again, the two of you are at a nameless bar in an equally nameless town—one of many across this stretch of the desert, if only because of the multiple reserves of ground water and compact soil that make it easier to grow small patches of crops. Not easy, but easier; there’s always a difference.

But it means the town is lively and the booze is all too easy to get ahold of. Vash never intended for the two of you to get tipsy, but you’re giggling at his stupid jokes all the same with a soft smile that never quite leaves your lips.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Vash feels his heart race for the entire evening, even when he finally retires to his rented bed, and tries not to think of you in the room next door and how nice it might be to sleep beside you.

He fails spectacularly and barely gets a moment of rest in the entire night.

-

It’s almost too easy to ignore his injury. Given that his body is more scars than smooth flesh, Vash can ignore a majority of the pain flashing and flaring across his thoughts. It was a small bullet, and it had just barely caught the side of his abdomen—missed anything important, but there was still so much blood to deal with.

He tries to assure you that he’s okay, but it doesn’t help; you fuss over him with hands grasping at his coat, tugging off his layers of clothes until fear is gripping harder around Vash’s heart than the pain of being shot. But before he can say anything, before he can even prepare himself for the inevitable disgust-laced pity sure to come over your eyes, your hands are already tearing apart strips of cloth from anything you can spare to destroy off your own body.

Don’t you notice? Don’t you see? The countless marks, the poorly-healed wounds and broken bones of a man who would barely keep his own mind and body together.

Still, the look across your tear-filled eyes is nothing short of desperate and miserable, voice muddled with sobs as you try to assure Vash that he’s going to be okay, even as your hands are stained with his blood soaking through all the layers of makeshift gauze.

And Vash—the one who is injured, the one who should arguably be the most concerned in the situation—can only feel one thing as he watches you cry for him.

The pain is dull and distant in comparison.

-

“I love you.”

Vash blinks, taken a bit by surprise when the words leaves your lips. It takes a few moments for him to fully comprehend what you’ve said, and a few moments more to react to it—his eyes widen and his heart starts to race just like that one drunken night together, only this time he can’t blame the alcohol.

You look so scared. Eyes flickering across the ground as if unable to meet his, your hands twisting together so tight that he’s almost worried that you’ll hurt yourself without meaning to.

But the words, they echo over and over themselves within his mind.

And this time, the response comes from him all too easily. It’s natural and instinctive, blooming forth like a flower as it drinks up the sunlight. No longer idle thoughts, no longer ignored, no longer denied.

“I love you too.”

Rating: General

Relationships: Fem!Reader/Wolfwood/Vash

Summary: Vash and Wolfwood have to take care of a job, but their thoughts are still with their wife.

Written by @blood--hunter

Note: Reader is referred to as wife and uses she/her. Various pet names are also used through the writing.

The lighter sparked to life with only one flick. Wolfwood sighs in relief, lifting the small dancing flame to his cigarette as if it were as delicate as a butterfly. Just as he’s about to cup his hand—mostly out of habit— around the end, there is the sound of a gunshot.

In the same breath that the bullet meets his cigarette, Nicholas lets out a sigh. He had known it was going to happen, but it was still an annoyance that made his teeth grind.

“Seriously?” He asks, flickering dark eyes to the man walking towards him. Vash was dressed in his usual red coat as always, blond hair waving gently in the desert wind. “You couldn’t even let me have one drag?”

Though his gun was nowhere to be seen, Vash was the only one stupid enough to literally shoot something out of Nicholas D. Wolfwood’s mouth and not expect any consequences or accidental injuries.

“You heard the little lady.” Vash said, taking the final few steps to stand before his husband. “No more smoking. It’s bad for your lungs!”

Nick gnashed his teeth again, leaning against the large, cross-shaped gun that was behind him. Vash was, unfortunately, right. Their wife had strict orders for him not to smoke anymore largely out of concern for his health. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that his newfound powers would keep anything like cancer at bay, instead acquiescing to her and Vash’s whims than try to make the argument.

“Your plan has failed. Now let’s end this.”

Because I had so much fun making that Vash collage/wallpaper, I decided to see if I could make one for other characters of the Tristamp series.

Wolfwood was *much* harder, mostly because he’s scowling all the dang time and there’s not a lot of great medium/closeup shots of him so far, but I think it came out pretty good!

Also a bonus version below the cut:

Vash:

Meanwhile, Knives:

warning for nsfw, noncon/dubcon-ish?, breeding kink

but

potential yandere knives, driven up the wall by plant!reader stretching their wings and 100% sure they're doing this to tease him (they're not), decides to pound them into the bed (1/2)

one moment reader is just innocently stretching, the next they're in bed, well bred, seed leaking out of their cunt and a very smug knives plastered against their back :3 (2/2)

my breeding kink comes swinging in full force aha-

Knives is completely satisfied with himself while the reader is exhausted, well-fucked, but completely confused as to how the hell that mind-blowing sex was initiated in the first place--and they're too nervous or embarrassed to ask about it 🤣

Bonus points if Knives doesn't realize the miscommunication until waaay later and gets a little flustered about it

They're just vibing happily on the ground with a bunch of blossoms sprouting around them as the others just watch in confusion and awe and Vash is just. Generally pleased about the whole thing.

Wolfwood: What the hell are you doing?

Plant!Reader, from beneath several layers of flowers: I'm photosynthesizing!

Wolfwood: You're doing WHAT?