#sef drabbles

[shmothman]

Internet Safety

(Casper x reader, 500 words, post-ending 3, T for language)

“Casper. I need you to listen to me very carefully right now.”

You turn your phone around to face him, and he looks at you confused before reading aloud: “‘Immediate action required for your bank account.’” His brows knit as he looks up at you. “That sounds serious, are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No, no. Look at who it’s sent from.”

He reads the (incredibly phony-sounding) email address back to you, and then looks at you again, still confused.

You point at it. “This is what a scam text looks like.”

Casper narrows his eyes. He looks back at the text, then looks back at you. “But… it says your immediate action is required. Isn’t your bank account very important?”

You sigh. “It’s a lie, babe. They want me to click that link and put in my bank password. They’ll take that password to hack into my actual bank account, and then they’ll steal all my money.”

He still seems unconvinced. “But… what if you’re wrong?”

“You really are a scammer’s wet dream, you know that?”

He bristles slightly. “I do not want to risk not taking immediate action on my bank account.”

That gives you pause. “Wait, do they have banks in the underworld?”

“Yes? How do you think we deal with money?”

“Even in the underworld you have to deal with capitalism?” Honestly, you thought that his society was better than yours at that kind of thing. Though, maybe the whole ‘he was created for one purpose and that purpose is his job’ thing should’ve tipped you off. The billionaires of the mortal realm would love that shit. “Fuck, next you’re gonna tell me there’s capitalism in the afterlife, too.”

He shrugs. “I do not know. It is possible.”

“Please don’t say that to me. Anyway. If you’re gonna live in the mortal world for now, you’re gonna need to be able to tell what a scam looks like.”

“As far as I can tell, I cannot have a bank account here without an ID. Which, as I am not a citizen of this world, I do not have.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m your sugar daddy from here on out. But there’s still plenty of stuff I want to help you not fall for. Like the fucking virus you gave my computer last week.”

He frowns. “It said I had won a prize.”

“Also, what if we have to forge some documents for you and get you an ID and bank account?”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Are you looking to break as many of your world’s rules as I have mine? It will be much harder for us if we both have to go on the run.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and heave an exaggerated sigh. “Point taken. Just. Please. If you get any texts, emails, or popups like this… come to me before you click anything, okay? The geek squad guys think I’m an idiot.”

“It is not—“

“So I told them that my idiot boyfriend is the one who clicked the link.”

He pouts, and it’s very, very cute. “Very well.”

[dividedskies]

@dr-william-j-xander​ asked: ✖ repressed memory (for whichever muse/muses you wanna do this with :3c)

Memory drabbles | accepting

{ ✩ }

Of course you remembered. But you try very, very hard to forget.

It was a busy day at the Temple of Sarenrae, as it usually was. You were on regular doctoral detail, with assisting patients who needed long-term recovery. Many patients could just pop in for a boost of healing or relief from poison, but some were not as lucky.

You were working with a man whose name you can’t remember and whose face is a blur. You remember that he worked in some shady dealings in Korvosa. Fair enough--your job was not to judge, but to heal. You joked with him as you took his vitals. You double-checked to make sure that his bandages were on correctly.

You left.

And when you came back...

there was blood everywhere the man was cut open it felt like walking into a wall the stench was sickening you fell onto the floor you couldn’t stop looking the window was open it wasn’t open before how could any human be mutilated in such a way there’s blood on your shoes you hear the other clerics calling you have to be removed by the clerics because you weren’t responding to anyone you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t breathe

You don’t remember.

{ ★ }

[haruchyio]

i'll be posting a lot of my sef-ships drabbles later. i'm sorry if i clog your dashboard

[wingxdfxry]

Hopelessness

A Rodorah Drabble. Sometime after the events of KOTM

Contains mentions of: Manipulation / Sef-Doubt / Self-Destructive Thoughts & Actions /  If there’s anything in here that you want tagged, please let me know!

song used as inspiration

Eyes shoot and dart about as the bird-like titan rises from his slumber, one that was cut short from another nightmare. Those are becoming a lot more common nowadays, and Rodan couldn’t explain to himself why he was having these thoughts. Well, they could. The problem was, is that Rodan doesn’t want it to be brought up in any sort of capacity. It isn’t his fault.

There’s always conflicting thoughts with King Godzilla and Ghidorah. Thoughts of whether that song controlled—manipulated him or not. Was it manipulation? Was it Rodan’s own pure will to fight against Godzilla and Mothra? Or was that just all of Ghidorah’s plan. To make him feel like he did this on his own volition. But what? Why? He was CLOSE to Ghidorah, he proved himself several times, so there wouldn’t be a reason for Rodan to be betrayed like this!

It just made Rodan freak out even more. What was it?! Why the hell is he even thinking about this in the first place?! Rodan slammed his head against the curve of the volcano. No, don’t cause an eruption again. The last time you had a mental breakdown, your home nearly exploded!, Rodan thinks to himself, before sulking down into the volcanic lava once more. He’s alone. Oh he’s definitely alone, but as the song echoes in his mind, he begins to scream and screech.

“GET IT OUT”.

It’s never a pretty sight, this is just another nightmare. Just wake up, wake up  WAKE UP. WAKE UP. The screeching stops, as soon as the screaming began—it had stopped. Leaving Rodan quiet, tears dripping down his face. He knows he has to talk about this, but with who? Godzilla will continue to lay down that he was used, used as a weapon, not a living thing, while Ghidorah will tell him that he came to the song on his own will. Rodan let out a shaky breath.

His entire body was vibrating. Was it fear? Was it anger? No. None. None of those. This was why Rodan distanced himself from both parties. He wasn’t strong. He isn’t strong enough to defeat Ghidorah in battle—nor Godzilla. He wasn’t even USEFUL against the big battle in the human-populated area. Rodan was useless. Weak. Weak. WEAK. He wants to WAKE UP, but he’s too WEAK to do such an action. It doesn’t matter though, he’s been awake. All this time he’s been awake. But now? Now all he wants is to SLEEP. To sleep FOREVER.

Maybe he was manipulated in the end. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Morality doesn’t exist for the bird-like titan, anymore. He doesn’t know who’s good or bad. He doesn’t know if he’s a bad guy or good guy. Shaky breathing turns into broken sobs, continuously ramming his head against the curvature of the volcano, over, and over—more slams.

Until it cuts through his scales and feathers at last, blood dripping into his eyes and down his face. WAKE UP. WAKE UP. WAKE UP.  They scream out, unable to realize they’d caused another volcanic eruption. How long had he been there? Slamming his head against the rocks and obsidian? Minutes? Hours? He doesn’t know, nor does he care.

Just wake up or forever suffer in rest.

[lunavadash-creates]

Hi Babe! I dropped to remind you of importance of taking care of yourself. Please remember to take your meds and stay hydrated! Altair would be worried. Or worse, he would take actions to prevent possible consequences. I really hope your leg is better.

Have a wonderful week Dear! I'll try to respond to your messages tomorrow. I have even more questions.

Your drabble with Altair being enamored with Amara's eyes.. oh my! It was sooooo sweet! I can definitely imagine it. I don't like pregnancy or having a family in general motives, but this just made my day! Totally asdfghjkllove 💕

🔪

Hi Knifey! To be honest my leg is little worse today but I'm taking meds and hope for the best! So i guess we will see...

Thank you for appearing tonight! I'm so happy to see you!

Honesty I have visited another doctor today and he also knows nothing so I guess Altair would be as sad/angry (sangry?) as I am now. I hope he would at least order some nice pizza.

You too have a wonderful day/night/week!

As for pregnancy - i have mixed feelings. But for Altair... well he had Darim and Sef and the book says he was an amazing father so I think that him and Amara would just want to have a big, loving family! Yet I don't think I would actually focus on it too much in my story. But who knows?

Thank you for your message! Love you Knifey! 💜

[empires-of-athos]

October Nishi Drabble 03

Look I know this is October stuff but a handful of these prompts are going to be based off a bit of a side thing that me and my friend that plays the character Sef Articfur have developed about one particularly emotional Starlight (Christmas) celebration. Important things to know for this one *In my canon its the Warror(s) of light, plural and (most) of the Free Company of Haven for the Lost are said WoL’s *Sef Arcticfur, while a Miqo’te in this world, originally came from a different world entirely and was wolffolk, who due to circumstances ended up wandering into this world and has been here since (will have more about him and the other members of the FC in due time) *Yes I actually did figure out how long it took to walk on the shortest path actually following the roads from Ceaderwood to our company house in the Lavender Beds with a few rests in between which entails going both through Limsa AND Ul’dah it is almost exactly 24 hours and a near extra day tacked on because accounting for ferry time to get from La Noscea to Thanalan, hence the two days. 

Word of the Day: Roasted Word Count: 977 It’s easy to forget to make time for important things when you’re the warriors of light.

He wouldn't do this for just anyone. There were few friends or even allies he could say he would do this for even. Sef was one of the few he would and...well that’s how he wound up transporting 40 freshly slain dodos. The young boy no doubt had some cooking project ahead of him, he could piece together that much but he couldn't fathom what he could be working on that required 40 Limsian Dodos. It was probably for Lyngsath . Being close to Starlight, the only reason -he- wasn't spending all of his time helping Redolent fill orders for the season was a personal project that he had made clear needed to take priority.

It took both of his chocobos Zoran and Zacharie to  pull the sled laden with a sizable, heavy icebox full of crystal and more plucked birds then seemed reasonable. Which left him footing it alongside of them. The Free Company home was located in the shroud - which meant it took two days worth of travel seeing as aether travel wouldn't work for transporting this large of an order.

He guided the birds to the stables where they could properly rest and eat after the long journey hearing feet rushing along the cobblestone, eyes darting back just in time to see the blur of Yuuma rushing off whooping proudly to himself. Oh boy. Taking in a deep breath ready for whatever might be awaiting him he stepped inside the company house.

"Sef?" Calling out  looking around curiously. No answer. Well the obvious place to check was the kitchen. Heading straight in and...well that explains Yuuma's amused state.

In the middle of the floor a pile of Acorns up to the table top, with a blue tail sticking out of it. He shouldn't be shocked, Yuuma was always overzealous in collecting resources but...this was a bit much. Reaching his arm down deep in the pile he found purchase fishing the blue haired miqo'te boy up out, gasping, spitting a few of the acorns out as he did so.

"Hi Nishi!"

"Hello Sef." He sighed slowly putting  Sef down on his feet with a tired smile. "I take it...Yuuma got you these for cooking."

"Uh-huh I told him to get me alot but..." he tapered off a bit starting with an overwhelmed look at the size of the pile before a sheepish grin came over him. "Well it's always better to have extra!"

"I should hope there's some extra Dodo's involved in that request you had."

"Well yeah I have to make sure I know exactly how to glaze each of them perfectly for everyone in the company!"

He blinked slowly. Staring at Sef as the realization sat in. The company? There were a total of 15 people in the company. That would account for three MAYBE four Dodos. Still there Sef went pulling out one of the large Dodos already setting to prepping and basting it with one of the dozens of sauces he had made, presumably testing recipes with. He knew Sef could be vehement in his cooking but this…

"Everyone gets their own Dodo! I want everyone to be just right."

"Sef..." Nishikurag'a started a bit wary of his words. Ever since Sef had asked if this world had a celebration anything like Solsmas and had learned of Starlight - he'd been very adamant about the holiday.  "As wonderful an idea as this is don’t you think this is a bit excessive?”

“NO!”

He jumped back at the sudden outburst as a spoon hit the stove hard, staring startled at Sef. Opening his mouth to try to say something, he was cut off before he could even get a breath of a word out.

“All of us are always so busy all the time! Kaixen is always training, Vertaux is always busy with his research, you’re rarely around anymore and everyone else is always so stressed out and I know alot of you are going to be doing things on Starlight but we’re all going to sit down and have a nice meal for Starlight Eve like a proper family!!”

“...”

He wasn’t wrong. Lately they all had been busy. Well busy might not have been the word but...absorbed perhaps in his case. Even when he was around the rest of the company he was...less ‘there’ then he even use to be. Sef, spoke frequent of the world he had been in. How much his family meant and what they were like and the company had become a family to him and…

He knelt down putting a hand on Sef’s shoulder- tense and shaking. He’d gotten himself so worked up and honestly he couldn’t blame him.

“You’re right.” He started softly, biting his lip in what little guilt he had left in him.  “It is important that we come together at least once in a while. Now c’mon, I might not be as adpt as you in the kitchen but point me where you need me and I’ll do what i can to help.”

Sef asked often what it was about him that made people seem to like him so much. The big grin that had such genuine passion and care for this world and those in it that he had...hope incarnate as one might call it, that was certainly a huge reason.

The room filled with all the warmth and taste and smells of boiled baked roasted and otherwise cooked foods. Other members of the company coming and going bringing in different things requested or simply of their own suggestion. some stayed to help some electing to keep out of the way, by the end there was hardly a spare acorn to be found. Honestly the company was like a family and not just because of Sef, though little brought it out like a well cooked meal.

[sclvixtcxnnxcticn]

It’s 2am Drabble

Context: Sef blames herself for Lears death

Tw: character death, VIOLENCE.

Lear is owned by: @flashbang-througthe-door

She hated herself, she wanted nothing to do with herself. Iosefka degurechaff saw herself as a murderer and she hated it. She felt sick to her stomach just thinking about how she couldn’t have prevented it.

Her existence was his downfall, she walked out to the kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of god knows what type of alcohol and pours herself a glass “I can’t stand it Selene. If I weren’t here he would still fucking be here” she sighed sipping her drink.

“Yeah I know kid. It hurts, I miss-“ the eldest woods sibling got cut off by Iosefka yelling at her “you don’t tucking understand do you! It’s MY fault the one person made my life worth living is fucking dead!” She hissed there was venom on her lips, dripping from icy fangs formed by the liquid in her glass

“Im sorry sef.” Selene got up to comfort Sef only to get sefs icy glare thrown in her face. She was pissed “get the fuck out Selene.” She growled earning a nod from the taller woman who quickly walked out.

Sef finally broke. Crumbling to the ground, she wanted him back, that handsome Italian she fell for, the clumsy yet skilled man that stole her heart. She pulled her knees to her chest, letting herself cry it out praying that no one could hear her broken sobs. But her prayers went unanswered as the man who got her beloved killed walked in. “Bell.” He spoke

“Come near me and so help me god I will gut you like the pig you are.” She growled angrily through hot tears. “We’ve got work to do” he spoke, that just pissed her off.

She stood up and grabbed him slamming him against the wall “I don’t give two flying fucks what work needs to be done. I lost the love of my life and you are brushing it off like it’s dust on that stupid desk of yours!” She screamed at him. The anger boiling over.

“Stand down Bell” he spoke sternly only to get a look of death out of the woman “if you don’t hold your tongue american. I will gladly remove it for you” she spoke letting him go and walking threateningly close to the knife block. She wasn’t lying.

“If I wasn’t dragged into this mess he would still be here. He would still be alive. I would still be in his arms. But no. You just have to take everything dont you!” She yelled sorrowfully. She couldn’t calm down. There was so much pent up rage she needed to get out. Especially at Adler. But if she let go now she would surly kill him.

[lostindrink]

Call Me ??? shrugs???

Call Me: I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]

He was going to die.

It was a sad thought to have but he knew he was going to die. The wound was too great to save with any healing spell. Evelyn was busy and he didn’t want to drag her from her duties saving the world and all that. She was fighting on the other side of Waterdeep while he and Strix had been separated.

Strix at least had gone to try and get the Paladin. Screaming that she wasn’t losing him and that she wouldn’t let him die. But he knew Strix. Knew when she was being paranoid and when she was being delusional. This was less of a if i say it it won’t happen and more of a please don’t die before i get back.

They’d both agreed he couldn’t really go anywhere. Movement would probably kill him. So he was holed up in a tiny run down broken house in the shittest ward of Waterdeep. GREAT.

He’d known when he’d sent off the witch that he wouldn’t make it. Not before she got back. And not within enough time for one of Evelyn’s spells.

He was done for.

His mind wandered as blood loss began to settle in. To the people he’d met. The wrongs and rights he’d done. Even though he was well aware that Strix would waste the resurrection scroll on him the moment she returned with the rest of the crew. Best to get that thinking out of the way.

Sef stuck in his mind. The cleric he’d met in that weird side story they did. She had sobered him up and he didn’t know where she was. They’d lost contact. He’d been taken over by an evil ring for a while. You know, the basic loss of communication the wafflecrew was great at.

“Sef.” He spoke aloud, not sure why. Blood loss? Probably blood loss. “I don’t know how clerics work or if you’re prayer based but if you are…Take care of Evelyn? I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m doing. But she’s religious like you so I mean there’s some best friend material right there. You can talk god shop talk or something. She’s gonna be freaked out by me dying. So will Strix and Diath. And if you can deus ex machina into this plot and help them out that would be sweet.”

He spoke a few more prayers to specific people. Told Strix to stop worrying about him and that she couldn’t lose him since he’d haunt her. Told Diath that he got the whole guilt thing and that he didn’t hate him. Told Simon he was a good boy and to protect his Mom. Told Evelyn…Told her he had followed the party that day for her. For his number one fan who had made playing music that much better.

As the last breaths left him he was sure he could hear panicked trash witch screaming but he just wasn’t sure. Probably a hallucination.

[casualtysought]

the interview is swift -- perhaps too swift. an analysis of the managers work tablet showed that he had double booked himself and was running approximately four minutes and fifty three seconds late for a pressing appointment with the director. a quick overview of the man’s work history, statistics and overall ethic whilst performing his job as manager made it safe to assume with over seventy percent probability that he had a chance of a promotion. it made the interview short and clipped, he neglected to look up from his tablet and perhaps if he had he might have seen that there was something wrong with him.

diagnosis assured that physically there was nothing wrong with him, nor could he find vicious malware within his system or evidence of memory tampering but there was something wrong with him. his skin felt . . . EXPOSED and his memory ---- it kept taking him back to uriah. he could recall every detail, the putrid smell of urine mixed with the scent of gasoline, rain in the air and strong cologne that carried traces of sandalwood and musk. the pressure of uriah’s clasping hand within his own, wet and slick with thirium. the right side of his skull had been crushed, the shell of it scattered in broken remains around him like the pieces of a fragile vase, exposing the soft synthetic tissue of the protective jelly for his memory core that flickered with lights of white and red. thirium leaking from his nose and jaw where they had broken him, his limbs mangled from the sheer brutality of the attack and josef found his gaze lingering on the torn seams of his coat.

uriah’s audio box was damaged causing his words to slur and fracture apart, stuttering and starting again and again as his good eye stared up at him.

“ i -- i -- it’s . . . n - not  ----  it’s  not  faaaaaair ! ”  his voice dropped several octave’s, the LED at his temple flickering urgent red as his lower lip trembled and twitched around the words, and he could feel it. feel uriah’s emotions, the injustice, the anger -- anger so devastatingly strong that he felt as if it might consume him and he twitched, as if to jerk out of his grasp but a moment later found himself clinging to him. both hands cradling his, skin materializing back to expose the pale synthetic tissue beneath.  “ i  don’t  want  to  die !  i  don’t  want  to  die ! ”

fear. fear so tangible he felt he might choke on it. josef watched as uriah’s LED dimmed, watched the way his eyes became vacant and empty, how his expression slackened and his body locked up, motor functions suspended as they were and josef could not bring himself to pry his hands away until ordered to do so.

   perhaps if the manager had looked up he might have seen. might have known and ordered him to reset but he didn’t and despite how painful, how shocking and confusing it was, josef could not bring himself to forget what he had seen. he could not bring himself to wipe his memory of the xz200 whom would gaze at the leaves as the seasons changed, whom would collect the children’s drawings that were made for him and pin them to the staff board without anyone knowing where they came from. the manager didn’t notice and josef didn’t say.

[shmothman]

Uncanny Vash rambling… (drabble, 405 words)

Vash keeps anything inhuman about himself buried deep inside. His long coat and layers obscure proportions that aren’t quite right, his hands always moving, flourishing—trick shots to distract from the things that separate him from humanity. His grin is practiced like the rest of him, showing off just the right amount of teeth and nothing more; not too wide, not too sharp. The alternative—being seen for what he is—is too dangerous, both to him and, more importantly, to the people he comes in contact with.

But… with time, and with trust, every part of Vash’s mask begins to slip. It’s the little things, first: there’s no way to hide the differences in his body when he’s bleeding out on the mattress of an inn, careful hands digging bullets out of his side; no way to hide the peek of sharp teeth when he smiles for real. His laugher is more resonant, almost grating or ringing—slightly metallic as it claws its way out of his chest. And when the truth comes out—when he interacts with the plants, and those feathery appendages make themselves known—he fears. Fears that this is it. Fears that he’ll have to be alone once more. (And shouldn’t he be hoping for that? Isn’t that safer for everyone?)

That isn’t what happens. And now that it isn’t a secret, everything becomes so much harder to hide. It’s been so long since he acted like himself, so long since Rem smiled at the way he glowed in the darkness of the ship’s bay, where all those people slept, oblivious to the misfortune about to befall the human race. So long since the first time anyone called him monster. It’s like coaxing a wounded animal out of its den; Vash has never felt safe, on this planet, but pretending is certainly safer than not. Still, he can’t deny the relief of being able to let out a clicking chitter when he’s pleased, of rolling and popping his joints in ways that would make a human cringe—of holding someone close and letting the rumbling of his chest do the talking. It’s far too easy to become comfortable in this.

The rational part of his mind reminds him that this is fleeting, that he’d better not get used to this oasis in the desert. There’s so little he allows himself, but this he can’t deny.

For now, at least.

He reasons that he’s always been rather selfish.

[shmothman]

vash + silly/awkward sex? let him be cringe and also fail.

okay anon NOW you’re speaking my language!!! He IS cringefail. And I want him so bad. So. Without further ado, I present to you:

An Incomplete List Of Stupid Shit Vash The Stampede Has Absolutely Done In Bed.

(Nsfw below the cut)

1. Sneezed directly in your face. very loudly. and headbutted you at the same time. he could not have been more apologetic, but, to be fair, as soon as your head stopped hurting, you thought it was hilarious.

2. Made you laugh while you were going down on him. Cum came out your nose. 0/10 experience.

3. Was too drunk and fell asleep halfway through. Went completely boneless, and he’s heavy, so you couldn’t get him off of you. Or out of you.

4. Got your pubes stuck in the joints of his metal hand. That one hurt like a bitch. (Again, he’s so sorry. He’ll make it up to you. He promises.)

5. Couldn’t stop laughing because when his hips slapped against yours it made a fart sound. At least this time you’re laughing just as hard.

6. At first, he was so excited that he couldn’t last 5 minutes with you. He was really embarrassed… but if you’re being honest, you thought it was really hot.

7. Full-on ugly cries like, half the time he has sex with you. He just loves you so much!! He tries to hide the snot, but there’s only so much he can do. (It’s endearing, really.)

8. If he’s in a good mood, he’s hamming it up. This man loves roleplay, and he gets really into it! But he’s really bad at it. Does his fake deep voice the entire time (think “YES I AM THAT MAN.”) Gets pouty if you break character to laugh at his bad acting, but he can’t stop breaking character to tell you how much he loves you.

9. Tripped while trying to get his pants off and hit his head HARD on the nightstand. And then tried to keep going despite the fact that he was bleeding from a fucking head wound.

10. Yes, he’s tried to touch you with sticky donut hands. When you told him to go wash it off he only licked his fingers clean and wiggled his eyebrows at you.

11. Made so much noise that the innkeeper literally knocked on your door and yelled at you to keep it down. (An unfortunate Wolfwood has done the same many times.)

12. One time you were going down on him, and when he came, his hips bucked really hard directly into your chin, making you bite your tongue. It hurt like hell.

13. Forgot the safe word and panic-yelled “UNCLE!!?!?”

14. You have caught him jacking off with all manner of your undergarments. Usually panties. One time it was a sock.

[shmothman]

Alloy

Al•loy (noun): a mixture between two or more metallic elements, especially to give greater strength or resistance to corrosion.  (Just like titanium, two people can be stronger together, too.)

Vash the Stampede x Reader 829 words Rated G Tags: pre-relationship, mutual pining, fluff, pride and prejudice hand flex

“Vash,” you say, chewing on your lip; you’re not sure if you should even ask this, but your curiosity’s just too great.

He looks up at you, seated beside you before the fire. “Hm?”

“Your arm,” you say. “It’s lost tech, isn’t it?” That much is obvious, but it’s a necessary first question; a prelude to what you really want to ask.

He looks down at his left arm, flexes his hand. His voice is soft when he says, “yes.”

“Could I… look at it?” you ask, and then quickly append: “it’s okay if you don’t want me to!”

It’s long past sunsdown now, and your sleeping bag is wrapped around your shoulders as the fire you had built earlier finally dies down. Most of your companions are already tucked in their own sleeping bags by now, and there’s no one to overhear your quiet conversation, the soft intimacy of Vash sitting so near you, his thigh almost touching yours.

“Oh,” he says, sounding somewhat bashful. “Um, if you wanna?” He holds out his hand to you, his face lit in the soft orange glow of the fire, his bright blue eyes not meeting yours.

You wish your heart wasn’t hammering quite so hard. “You sure?”

He nods, gives a small hum of affirmation, and gingerly, you take his hand in your own. 

With his gloves and coat, sometimes you forget that his arm is prosthetic; he moves it so naturally, so carefully, that you didn’t even know until you were close to him. You know that it’s been a part of him for a long time now, though you’ve never asked the specifics, and he’s never offered. But now, he’s allowing you a closer look, and as you run your fingertips over the joints of it, you hear him draw in a breath.

You’re too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “It’s incredible,” you say. Machinery fine enough for the motor control he has is a feat of engineering that you doubt anyone alive today could replicate; the way it actually connects to his nerves by way of the port in his upper arm.

He only gives a nervous laugh. 

“Do you… feel it? Or can you just move it?”

“A little bit,” he says softly, his voice very gentle. You risk a look at his face, and his gaze is steadily locked on the way you trace his fingers with your own, run your thumb over the joint where the palm of it connects with the wrist. “Not pain, though. I can feel pressure; enough to move it and hold things, but not much more.”

You ignore the shiver that works its way up your spine at the way his voice sounds, at the way the metal—that strange, lost alloy—feels so cool in your hand. “Can you feel this?”

He nods. “Only a little. Like a really soft touch.”

You wonder if he would be able to feel it if you brushed your lips across his knuckles, or pressed them to the tips of his fingers. 

You’re not brave enough to try.

The fire’s burning down to embers now, and it’s getting colder; the metal of his hand growing cold, too. When you shiver and draw your sleeping bag tighter around your shoulders, Vash smiles gently. “You should get some sleep,” he says. 

He’s right, it’s late—but you’d give anything to stay by the fire with him, to keep up this excuse to touch him in any small way. But the desert night is cold, and you can’t ask him to keep you warm, no matter how much you wish you could, so you only smile softly and nod.

“You too,” you say, though you know he always stays up later than you—you’ve seen him disappear, night after night, and sometimes you catch him watching the stars.

You wonder what he thinks about, those long nights.

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to know.

Letting go of his hand, you stand. “Goodnight, Vash,” you say, and you hope that he can hear what’s in your voice—the love there, the care, the adoration. One more smile thrown his way, and then you’re heading off to lay your sleeping bag down, to slip inside and curl up and try not to think too hard about his hand in your own.

---

As he watches you join your companions in sleep, Vash lets out a soft sigh and flexes his hand. What he wouldn’t give to be able to touch you like that all the time, to take your hand in his right, to actually feel your warmth. Even with his prosthetic, your gentle tracing of his fingers sent shivers up his spine; he can only imagine what it would be like with the other. And imagine he does, as he watches the embers die down, only the coals glowing a soft red, now. 

But you deserve more than the danger that follows him… if only he could gather the courage to leave.

[shmothman]

Confessional

Pairing: Wolfwood & Reader, Vash/Reader Rating: Explicit (for language and discussion of explicit topics) Words: 773 Tags: gender neutral reader, Wolfwood's stupid portable confessional, trigun 98, reader has a crush on Vash and thinks it's unrequited, Wolfwood is my best friend who makes me want to punch him in the face A/N: this isn't really crack but it sure is stupid!

“You’re brooding,” Wolfwood says, coming to lean against the siding of the building next to you.

You shoot him an annoyed glance. “I'm not brooding.”

He plows forward like he didn’t hear you. “It’s about needle-noggin, ain’t it?”

“No,” you lie, “it’s not.” It’s not about him, or the way you wish he felt even an ounce of what you feel for him, or the way he was so close to you last night while he was drunk and now is keeping a careful distance. It’s not about any of that. Of course it’s not.

“It’d probably help if you confessed your sins,” he says, pulling out that damn ‘portable confessional’ with a shit-eating grin that makes you roll your eyes at the best of times—and now just makes you scoff.

“Yeah,” you reply with biting sarcasm, “I’m sure it would.”

“Come on,” he says, grinning wider. “You know you want to.”

“Not a single part of me wants that, Nic. I don’t even know the however-many-sins-there-are.”

“Seven,” he supplies helpfully, ticking them off on his fingers: “pride, sloth, greed, gluttony, wrath, envy, and—“ he winks at you— “lust.”

You laugh, incredulous. “Right. Okay. You know what? Fuck it.” 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you snatch the confessional from his hands, putting it over your head and crossing your arms over your chest. If he’s gonna be an ass, you’re gonna make him regret it. 

“You wanna hear me confess my fuckin’ sins, Nicholas? Here: hey, father, I’ve been lustful as hell! I can’t even look in his general direction without getting horny! I can’t stop thinking about making out with him, and every time he pulls a trigger I think about his fingers inside me! I wanna fuck him six ways to sunday, in every position imaginable, over and over again until neither of us can walk for days!!” You can’t see his face right now, but you hope you’re making it as red as yours feels—though, damn him, it does feel good to confess this shit to somebody. Even if that somebody is Wolfwood. “I am lustful every minute of every goddamn day, and especially every minute of the night. And, hey, Isn’t masturbation a sin? I’m super guilty of that one. Like super guilty. Like every night guilty. He so much as smiles at me and I’m gonna jack off about it. I want to ride him like a goddamn Tomas, and you know what? I’m so in love with him, it hurts!”

…Well, you’ve sort of lost the plot, now. And you’re feeling much less confident than you were ten seconds ago. You pull the stupid box off your head and hold it back out to Wolfwood, jaw set and face flushed. 

His eyebrows are still sky-high, but he doesn’t quite look like you’ve embarrassed him… just yourself.

“There,” you say with finality. “That’s my confession.”

“Hi guys!” the voice behind you makes the blood drain from your face. Come on. You feel the warmth of him as he comes up behind you—you feel his presence, like you always do. “What’s up?” Vash asks.

Wolfwood’s eyes dart to you, then up to meet Vash’s gaze as he grins predatorily. “Oh, they were just telling me something really funny.” He cocks his head at you, and you want to wipe that damn smile right off his face. “Hey, why don’t you tell Vash what you just told me?”

You’re going to kill him. You’re actually going to kill him. Glaring daggers, you do your best to make your tone cheerful, though it sounds forced even to your own ear. 

“Oh, it really wasn’t that funny!”

“Sure it was,” Wolfwood says, smug as all hell. “Made me laugh, anyhow.”

You grind your teeth.

“I’m sure it was funny, I wanna hear it!” Vash says, and Jesus Christ, why did you ever open your mouth?

“Yeah, he wants to hear it,” Nicholas taunts.

You take a deep breath. “Oh! Hey, uh, I just remembered that Meryl and Milly need me for—um—something! Gotta run!”

With one final death glare thrown Wolfwood’s way, you turn on your heel, pointedly not looking at Vash as you make your completely un-smooth exit—you can’t let him see the way your face is burning.

God. Wolfwood’s never gonna let you live this one down.

Vash frowns as you leave, sure that he’s stepped into something, but not sure what. “What was so funny, Wolfwood?”

Nicholas claps him on the shoulder, the portable confessional set down on the ground. “Believe me,” he says, slipping a cigarette between his lips. “You’re gonna wanna hear it from them.”

[shmothman]

coming through for the vash prompt! immediately thought of vash w/ num 20 ❤️

Blossoming Romance Prompts

20. clumsy attempts at flirting

this reminds me of something I’ve been wanting to write for ages now 👀👀 (I know it’s supposed to be “blossoming romance” but... hear me out... established relationship...)

(Vash the Stampede x Reader, rated G, 739 words)

“So,” comes a voice from just behind you; a voice belonging to the tall man coming to lean against the bar beside you as you raise an eyebrow. “Come here often?”

You bite back a laugh. Of all the lame pickup lines…

Turning to him with a slight smile, you take in his messy hair, the way his grin shows off a peek of sharp canines, the way his bright blue eyes scrunch up with his smile, and you fight down a blush that threatens to rise in your cheeks. He really is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

“Actually, I just got into town,” you tell him, pretending not to pay him much attention as you sip your drink.

“What a coincidence,” he says, and the sound of his voice sends your heart fluttering. “I did too.” Now he pretends to examine his nails, lowering his voice to a languid drawl: “I’m a bit of a drifter.”

Your lips twitch upward. “Oh,” you say, “a drifter. Must be a hard life.”

“Oh, it is.” His eyes dart upward to meet yours, smile turning sly. “Don’t get a lot of comfort, out in the wasteland.”

Despite everything, your heart pounds at the look on his face. You ignore it and hum a noncommittal tone. “Handsome guy like you, I doubt comfort’s in short supply.”

“Maybe not the kind I’m looking for.” 

“What are you looking for?”

He grins like sunshine. “Why don’t you join me on the dance floor and I’ll show you?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest. “Alright, cowboy, lead the way.”

His smile gets even wider as you tip back the rest of your drink, leaving your glass on the counter in favor of taking his hand. He helps you down from the stool, his gaze heavy as he tracks your full figure—down and back up, slow and purposeful—and now you can’t stop the warmth from rising in your face, coloring the tips of your ears.

You don’t miss the happy sigh he lets out as he leads you to the cleared area of the bar where a few couples sway to the sound of the radio, and you don’t miss the look in his eyes as he pulls you closer, lifts your hand to brush a kiss across your knuckles, meets your gaze from beneath long lashes. 

“Charmer,” you accuse with a smile.

“Guilty as charged,” he returns. Then, his prosthetic hand rests on your waist, and he’s turning with you, sweeping you into his embrace, chest to chest as he grins down at you. His voice is so soft now, so quiet as he says, “this is the kind of comfort I want.”

You know your emotions are plain on your face: an adoration you can’t even pretend to hold back… but the same is in his eyes, too. Still, you can’t help the way your lashes flutter as you pitch your voice low; “you sure it’s all you want?”

This time, it’s his turn to blush—and red is such a lovely color on him. He recovers quickly, though, his grin going dopey. “Why, pretty stranger, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were offering something.”

You sway with him, warmth tingling from your head to your toes. “And what if I am?”

“Then I’d say I’m interested.”

A thrill of anticipation runs through you. “Wha’d’ya say we get out of here?”

“I say yes,” he answers quickly, resolutely, and you giggle. 

He’s clearly excited, buoyed as he practically drags you across the bar, single-minded in his purpose. You shiver as you step out into the cool night air with him, but he only smiles back at you, wraps his arm around your waist, leans in to brush his lips against the shell of your ear.

“I love you,” he sighs happily.

“Vaaash,” you laugh, playfully pushing him away. “We’ve only just met!”

“Ah, ah, ah—” he grins back, “I never told you my name!”

You pout. “I can’t know the name of the handsome stranger who’s taking me back to his room?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” he teases with a wink. 

“Alright,” you relent, unable to keep the smile off your face for long. 

He clears his throat as he gets back into character, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice. “So,” he says. “Is it hot in here or is it just you?”

[shmothman]

Would You?

Vash the Stampede x Reader Rating: explicit (18+ only) Notes: oh look, more stupid bullshit from yours truly! (wrt this post)

“Alright,” Wolfwood says, “I got one.”

Vash turns his attention away from the gentle crackle of the fire to watch him grin and extinguish his cigarette on the rocky ground, sweeping his gaze over his practically captive audience. This can’t be good.

“Would you,” he pauses for emphasis, “fuck a clone of yourself.”

You let out a laugh at the same time as Meryl groans.

Wolfwood shushes you both. “I would,” he says, then he turns to Vash, sitting at his left. “Spikey?”

If Vash is being honest, he’s embarrassed that his first thought is about what you’d think. How will you feel if he answers yes? How will you feel if he answers no? You had laughed, so clearly you’re not as disgusted or exasperated by the question as Meryl is—and so Vash settles for his usual roguish smile, bringing his hand up to frame his chin between his thumb and index finger. It’s only taken him a fraction of a second to make this deliberation—no hesitation at all, really—and he answers, his voice slightly deepened, “a guy as handsome as me? It’d be a privilege.”

His heart stutters in his chest at the laugh you give in response, but he knows well how not to show it.

Then Wolfwood turns to you, and Vash has a sudden, unbidden thought—but it comes at the same time you say, “oh, yeah. Hundred percent.”

...His thought is more of an image, really, and a distracting one at that—it’s not as if anyone could blame him for the way it popped into his head, you’re the one who said it; Wolfwood’s the one who brought it up!—but the reality is that now he’s thinking about… well… two of you. You fucking yourself. Not in the way he usually thinks about you fucking yourself—because, yeah, he sure thinks about that a lot—but you with your hands all over another you, you with your lips parted in a moan as you get yourself off, maybe even you and another you and him, all tangled up in bed, and—

“You’re a freak,” Wolfwood tells you with a shit-eating grin, “I love it. Big girl?” 

And Vash has to tear his eyes away from you, closing his jaw that he now realizes was hanging open, his cheeks growing warm but hopefully unnoticeable in the darkening night.

“Hmm,” Milly taps her chin with her forefinger. “I guess so? Could be fun!”

“Yes!” Wolfwood cheers, “short stuff?”

“Ugh,” Meryl says, “no way! You’re all gross.”

“Booo,” Vash watches you give her a playful thumbs down, and then the group erupts into bickering—or, well, mostly Meryl and Wolfwood; you and Milly are just running interference—and Vash is left fighting fantasies he didn’t even know he had.

[shmothman]

vash & 18. hello/goodbye hugs that linger + 25. finding comfort in their scent <3

You got it 😎😎

Blossoming Romance Prompts

(Vash the Stampede x Reader, rated G, 488 words)

“Guess this is goodbye,” he says, too cheerily for the words that sit like rocks in your chest, lead-heavy and choking.

You know they hurt him, too.

Still, you curse the way your eyes fill up with tears; the way your lip wobbles and your voice breaks as you tell him, “don’t you say that.”

You see something in him soften, and you ball your hands into fists at your side.

“Aw, hey,” he says gently, still sounding far too happy even when you know it isn’t how he really feels. “C’mon, you’re way better off without me dragging you down.”

“Don’t,” you repeat, and now you have to scrub at your eyes with the heel of your palm. “This isn’t goodbye. It’s not. And I’m not better off.”

Your name is a sigh of resignation on his lips, and you can’t stand it. Can’t bear to watch him accept this. Yes, you have to part—for now—but you refuse to let this be it. Not after everything you’ve been through together.

Not after you’ve fallen so deeply in love with him.

And he clearly isn’t expecting it when you run toward him once more; isn’t expecting you to throw your arms around him and hold tight and bury your face in his red coat—but after a moment of surprise, his arms come around you, too.

His embrace is water in the desert; it’s everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you ever could want. He’s tall and strong and steady, and he smells like dust and gunsmoke and the heat of the midday suns; like leather and the soap from the last inn you were chased out of. You hug him tighter, and try to commit it all to memory.

Finally, he sniffles above you. “H-hey,” he tries again, but he can’t quite seem to manage that cheerfulness anymore. “It’s okay…”

You shake your head, still pressed against him. “It’s not goodbye,” you promise, muffled into his coat. “It’s just see you later.”

You feel tears falling on the top of your head. He isn’t willing to promise that back, and you know it—so you’ll just have to promise enough for the both of you.

“I’ll track you down if I have to, Vash.”

His answer to that is a wet, teary-eyed laugh, and his arms squeeze tighter around you.

Maybe he’s trying to commit this to memory, too.

“I’m serious,” you say, growing more resolute with every word, “you can’t get rid of me if you try.”

There’s entirely too much affection in his wobbling voice when he replies, “you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“You’re too self-sacrificial for yours.”

Still, he doesn’t seem inclined to let go right now, and neither do you—so… you don’t. You simply stand there, clutching him like a lifeline, as the suns begin to rise in the sky above.

This isn’t goodbye, you repeat like a mantra. It’s just see you later.