#∘⡊ ☾ ˚⊹ one for the money two for the show ⊹ — task

[sailoryooons]

Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky. 

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating. 

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg. 

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault. 

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution. 

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers. 

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by. 

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute. 

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head. 

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.” 

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil. 

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly. 

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

-

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered. 

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery. 

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday. 

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.  

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then. 

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing. 

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this. 

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further. 

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition. 

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders. 

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.” 

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

-

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth. 

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin. 

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation. 

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there. 

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.” 

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.” 

#taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v smut #bts v

[ne0nic]

Be The Reason

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Vash x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 31.8k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Sex, Self Harm, Guns, Knives, Blood & Gore, Angst, Hurt with Not Alot of Comfort, BountyHunter!Reader, Siblings Relationship with Wolfwood & Livio, Blind Loyalty to Millions Knives, Wolfwood Escaped the Church, Slight Trauma Bonding, Loosely Follows the Plot of Trigun Stampede, '98 Trigun Elements if You Squint

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

ִ ࣪𖤐 Just a Snippet, Too Long For Tumblr

"This is an order from Knives."

"Of course it is," you drone, looking over the wanted poster. After years of being Knives' loyal soldier, he's finally tasked you with playing in the big leagues—the Humanoid Typhoon. It's the most sought-after bounty on the board, and now it's your sole target. You haven't failed Knives yet, and you sure as hell won't start now.

Finding this guy, Vash the Stampede, an awful code name by any standard, is already next to impossible. Bounty hunters have thrown heaps of cash for even a hint of his whereabouts for years, with nothing to show for it. You're not interested in the lies or wasting imaginary money. But maybe, just maybe, you know better than them.

The next time a call comes in, and some eager kid rushes into the bar spouting nonsense about spotting the Humanoid Typhoon, the hunters are instantly in a frenzy. They swarm to their trucks and speed off into the desert without a second thought. However, you don't follow their lead. In fact, you turn in the opposite direction.

He is aware that he's been hunted for a long time, and he's probably accustomed to diverting the crowd away from wherever he's hiding. Plus, he likely has a few friends willing to provide cover for him. You'll need to outsmart them all to catch your elusive prey.

Honestly, it takes a bit longer than you'd hoped, but the payoff is worth it. In a small bar, nestled in an unassuming town, the man with the biggest bounty No Man's Land has ever seen sits, savoring his drinks like there's no tomorrow. You observe from the shadows atop the stairs as he shares hearty laughs and engages in charming banter with the locals. His smile is wide and inviting, just like the one on his wanted poster. It's a bit strange coming from a guy accused of the things he has done, but, to your disappointment, it's evident that everyone here is armed and more than willing to defend him from you.

So, patience becomes your ally. It's frustrating, but he's within your grasp, practically in the palm of your hand. All that remains is to seize the moment. You quietly step back, plotting your move.

Down below, Wolfwood's gaze widens as he catches a glimpse of a shadow retreating from the railing above. There's something eerily familiar about it, but it can't be...

"Hey, everything okay?" Vash inquires, noticing the alarmed look on his face. Wolfwood lowers his eyes and takes a drag from his cigarette before flicking the ashes away.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he responds nonchalantly, though it hardly convinces Vash.

The two eventually depart from the bar late into the night, leaving behind patrons who have fallen asleep where they sat. Eager not to end up like them, they make their way toward tonight's lodgings.

And, naturally, you are there too, shrouded in darkness, silently tailing the pair. Vash sways slightly from side to side, a bit too entranced by the alcohol.

Wolfwood abruptly stops, causing you to retreat into the shadows. "What's up?" Vash asks, puzzled, as he turns toward his companion.

"I forgot something. You go on ahead," Wolfwood says abruptly, before disappearing down an alley without further explanation.

"Alright," Vash mumbles and continues down the street.

In just a matter of minutes, you have Vash pinned against an alley wall. With one hand securing the back of his neck and keeping him at bay, you deftly fasten the cuffs around his wrists. "Hey, can we maybe start with introductions? What's your name?"

"Make a sound, and I'll dislocate your arm," you warn, emphasizing your point by gripping where skin and metal meet. Vash winces.

"Okay! Okay! I get it," he says quickly. You slide his gun from its holster.

"Hey, hey, hey! That's important! Could you not touch that?" he pleads.

"Shut up," you snap, stowing the gun in the back of your pants.

The sudden hum and activation of a weapon cause you to freeze. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Wolfwood, his grip firm on the Punisher, but his eyes betraying hesitation. This isn't exactly the time or place you'd planned for a reunion, but you knew he wouldn't be far. Your training has made you acutely aware of each other's presence.

"You're alive," he murmurs, astonishment in his voice. "And you're working for Knives?"

"Stay out of my way," you instruct firmly.

"You don't have to work for those bastards! You can—" Your knife pierces through his stomach. Wolfwood meets your gaze with wide eyes. Evidently, your speed has caught him off guard. It's almost amusing to see him realize you're not the naive kid you once were.

"I can do what?" you ask, drawing your knife back, making him lurch before collapsing onto the sand. "Run away like you did? I chose this, Nico," you remind him in a hushed yet resolute voice.

"Wolfwood?!" Vash cries out in alarm.

"Move it," you snap, sheathing your dagger. You grab Vash by the coat and forcibly drag him away.

"Wait! Wait! He'll die!" Vash protests desperately.

"If I wanted to kill him, he'd be dead," you say coldly, showing no remorse for your actions. At the edge of town, you throw Vash into your car. He flops onto the seat and looks up at you with wide, bewildered eyes.

"How could you do that to him?" Vash asks, his voice filled with disbelief and concern.

Without acknowledging him, you slam the car door shut and speed away from the small town, venturing out into the vast desert ahead.

"Are you… like Wolfwood?" Vash continues, trying to make sense of your actions. You remain silent, your elbow resting on the door as you lean your head against your fist.

"Just be quiet," you mutter.

"You care about him, don't you?" Vash persists, undeterred by your lack of response. His curiosity seems insatiable. Frustrated, you lean forward and grab a half-eaten donut from a pastry bag on the dashboard. Without a word, you stuff it into Vash's mouth. He's momentarily surprised but can't resist the sweetness. A brief moment of silence follows until he finishes his bite.

"Those marks on your wrist, what are they from?" Vash inquires, determined to extract some information from you. His persistence is starting to get on your nerves.

"Enough," You snap, finally putting a stop to Vash's incessant questions. He closes his mouth, clearly surprised by your outburst. "He warned me you were talkative," you mutter, annoyed.

"Just tell me one thing. Why do you work for him?" Vash presses, determination in his eyes.

You shift your jaw, contemplating whether to answer. After a moment, you decide to offer a glimpse of the truth. "For the thrill and the cash."

"And you're from the orphanage?" Vash inquires further.

"Hell no. I was… a volunteer," you admit with a bitter tone.

"What?" Vash's heart aches as he hears your confession. After Wolfwood explained everything he went through, Vash can't fathom someone willingly subjecting themselves to such a fate.

"I became what I wanted to be, and now I'm Knives' favorite," you continue, bitterness still present in your voice. "Nico hated me when we were younger. He lost his mind when he realized I let it happen. But none of that matters. Once I drop you off to Knives, I'll be on my way with my money." Vash's gaze returns to your wrist with a new understanding.

"So then those marks—" he starts to ask, his voice filled with concern.

"I wasn't always Knives' favorite," you mumble, and Vash looks at your face, a deep sense of guilt washing over him. His brother hurt you, left scars on your body. If he hadn't… If they hadn't…

The weight of your words sinks in, leaving a heavy silence in the car as the desert stretches endlessly around you.

The car jerks violently, throwing both you and Vash around as it spins through the sand. You desperately try to keep it steady, but the sandy terrain has other plans. Finally, the car comes to a halt, thankfully without tipping over. As it settles, you shoot an annoyed glare at Vash, who has ended up leaning on you during the chaos. You push him off, not in the mood for any of this. "Get the hell off me."

"Sorry! Sorry!" Vash stammers, scrambling away from you. You quickly scan the rearview mirror as the dust begins to settle, revealing a figure standing on the dune behind you, holding a large cross-shaped weapon.

"Bastard!" You hiss, flinging open the car door, ready to confront the threat.

"Wait! Don't just leave me-" Vash pleads, but you slam the door shut behind you. Your hand darts to the back of your pants, retrieving the gun as you zero in on the figure. With a quick, practiced motion, you cock the hammer back and pull the trigger.

Click.

Is this a joke?! Why the hell was this idiot carrying an unloaded gun? Your irritation is interrupted by searing pain that shoots through your arm, forcing you to drop the useless weapon. You groan in agony as your arm falls to your side.

Shit!

Pressing your back against the car, you fight through the pain, knowing Wolfwood is closing in. You might have to kill him, even though Knives hadn't ordered it. But right now, you need to come to terms with the fact—

"Hey! Are you alright?! Let me see!" Vash suddenly pops up in front of you, the handcuffs only around his flesh wrist clinking. He reaches out toward your injured arm.

"What the hell? Get away from me!" you snap, making Vash flinch back.

"I just wanna help," Vash insists.

"Don't worry. She'll heal in a moment," Wolfwood's voice cuts through the tension as he stands at the tail end of the car.

"Bastard! I'll damn well kill you!" You screech, as you attempt to get to your feet, the pain ebbing as your arm begins to heal. Steam rises from your skin, and you can't help but wince in agony.

Vash takes a step forward, a desperate desire to help you coursing through him, but Wolfwood's firm hand presses against his chest, holding him back. Vash glances at him, and Wolfwood doesn't meet his gaze. After your pain subsides and you regain your composure, Wolfwood scrutinizes you from head to toe.

"Hurts like a bitch, don't it?" he asks in a gruff tone.

"Fuck you," you spit out venomously, leaning against the car to regain your footing. "Why the hell are you protecting him?! He's worth billions!"

"Why the hell are you working for Knives?! After what he did to us?!" Wolfwood fires back, frustration evident in his voice.

"Us?" You repeat with a scoff, fully standing from the car, which prompts Wolfwood to position himself closer to Vash. You narrow your gaze at his actions. "There is no us. You made that very clear."

"Just because I didn't agree with your insanity doesn't mean I don't-"

"Care about me?!" You finish his sentence, your tone dripping with cynicism. "That's cheap coming from you."

"I'm trying to help you, dammit!" Wolfwood yells, exasperation etched across his face.

"I don't need your help," you retort, pulling your dagger out of its sheath. "I need you to stay down."

"If that's the way you wanna settle this," Wolfwood concedes, dropping the Punisher weapon into the sand.

"You're not actually gonna fight her, are you?!" Vash pleads.

"It's what she wants," Wolfwood mutters, tossing his cigarette to the ground and smothering it.

"Come on, you two grew up together! This is crazy! We can just talk things out!" Vash insists, hoping to find a peaceful resolution.

"Stay out of this, Needle Noggin," Wolfwood sighs, cracking his knuckles. "This has been a long time coming."

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"Stop! Hold it! Hold on!" Vash steps between both of you, trying to be the voice of reason. He turns to Wolfwood. "I won't let you-" But before he can finish his plea, your foot hooks around his waist, and you throw him aside. Vash tumbles into the sand, watching the ensuing brawl unfold.

You and Wolfwood go at it fiercely, fists swinging, and landing hard smacks on each other. He dodges your blade with ease, and you deftly evade his counterattacks. It seems as if you're evenly matched for a while. Blood and bruises start to decorate both of your faces, but your healing powers kick in, burning with pain that only fuels your rage.

With a swift sweep of your leg, you send Wolfwood crashing into the sand. You leap onto him, clutching the knife tightly, ready to deliver a finishing blow. But just as you raise the knife over your head, pain shoots through your fingers as the blade snaps in half and lands in the sand. You whirl your head toward Vash, his gun still smoking. It's a move of desperation, and Vash has never been more thankful for the spare bullet he found.

Wolfwood seizes the opportunity to switch positions, pinning you to the sand. You struggle against him, demanding he get off. He holds you in place until you stop resisting. Lying back, you mutter, "Just kill me."

"I could never do that."

"I'm dead anyway," you mutter, revealing the harsh reality that Knives considers you expendable. It's a grim truth that hangs heavy in the air.

"Everything you've done has been to survive. And I was the asshole who doubted you. I was wrong for that. But right now you can trust that I won't let anything happen to you."

"Idiot. As if you're any match for him," you sigh. Slowly, Wolfwood gets to his feet and helps you stand. But before he can react, your foot lands a solid kick to his shin, causing him to keel over in pain.

"That's for shooting at me!" you declare.

"God! You devil woman!" Wolfwood curses, nursing his throbbing leg.

"Get over it," you sigh. Your gaze locks onto Vash, making the blonde stiffen. With brisk steps, you approach him. He holds up his hands, not wanting any smoke. You grip the pad of the handcuffs, and it unlatches from his wrist. He looks down in surprise.

"You're… Letting me go?"

"I lost. It's just how things are between us," you admit, already hating the unspoken agreement that hangs in the air. Wolfwood groans behind you as the elixir does its job, gradually mending his wounds.

"But if you go back empty-handed-"

"It doesn't matter," you say firmly. Vash reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It does matter! You said it yourself. Stay with us."

You pause, your emotions conflicting within you. Finally, you admit, "I don't really have much choice anyway."

Vash's eyes flutter open, adjusting to the daylight that's already warming up the car. He stretches and yawns, glancing around the vehicle. "Good morning," he greets, still somewhat groggy. His eyes dart to the front where you're driving in silence. "Where's Wolfwood?" he asks, puzzled. You remain silent, and Vash scratches his face, gradually realizing there are cuffs restraining him. His eyes widen as he sees his revolver resting on the dashboard. He lets out an exasperated groan and rubs his face. "Don't tell me you tricked us."

"Nico, always had this thing about family. We all were put through the same shit so we're family. I never understood it but he was dumb enough to think I did."

"You're quite persistent, I'll give you that," Vash remarks with a sheepish smile. You glance at him briefly in the rearview mirror.

"You're nothing like him, you know?" you comment. "You might look just like him, but I could never imagine that man smiling before I met you." Vash falls silent.

"He wasn't always like that," he says quietly.

"You would know," you reply.

"So, where are you taking me?"

"July," you say. "I haven't had the chance to update my associates yet, though."

"Is it wise to tell me that?" Vash questions.

"I figured if you were planning an escape, you'd prefer to do it now," you say. "I'd rather keel over in the sun than make a false call to Knives."

"So you've already made time for me to escape? You're quite punctual."

"I have about three weeks left to play cat and mouse with you before Knives comes looking for me."

"And Wolfwood?"

"Idiot got out to take a leak and I just drove away," you smirk. "You slept right through all his cursing."

"He didn't shoot at the car again?" Vash asks. You gesture with your thumb towards the back, and Vash turns to see the signature cross-shaped weapon in the trunk. He lets out a sigh, dropping his head.

"One last thing," you add. "I know you removed your prosthetic hand to escape the cuff before. So if you look down, you'll see a glove over your hand." Vash examines the glove. "I've wedged it into your wrist and the cuff. If you try to remove it, it will tear," you explain.

"What's to stop me from-" Vash begins.

"That glove is the last memento I have of my grandmother. Please handle it with care," you interject.

"Oh, come on!" Vash groans, covering his face with his hands. You chuckle softly from the front seat.

"Hungry?" you ask, offering him a bag. Vash accepts it, still pouting.

"Thank you," he says.

Another silent hour of driving is slowly driving Vash mad. The desire to be doing something, anything useful, gnaws at him, making his skin itch.

"Need to stop for gas," you finally break the silence, and Vash perks up as he spots a small gas station in the distance, situated in the middle of nowhere.

"Could you get me a drink?" Vash asks, flashing a sweet smile.

"You're the one who's being kidnapped, and you're asking for a drink?" you remark, raising an eyebrow.

"Pretty please?" Vash continues to smile. You pull up to the gas pump and open your car door, muttering to yourself.

"He's lucky he's so damn cute; otherwise, I might have left him tied to the back of the car hours ago," you grumble, slamming the car door. Vash watches as you open his door and grab his arm, causing him to stumble out of the car.

"Ye-eh!" he utters, and you press your finger to the cuff, unlocking the one around his flesh wrist. After closing the door, you loop the cuff around the door handle and latch it again.

"There you go. Some outdoor time, puppy," you say, patting his shoulder, before turning away.

"Woof," Vash mumbles sarcastically. From the other side, you begin filling up the car with gas and then proceed into the store.

"Welcome!" The shop clerk greets you with a smile.

Vash tugs at the handcuffs gently, their clattering noise echoing against the car. He contemplates the idea of breaking them; they couldn't be that strong, right? Surely he's stronger. With a determined stance, Vash focuses on the metal restraints, mentally preparing them for their imminent demise. Without further hesitation, he yanks on the handcuffs. Instead of breaking, as he had hoped, the car door suddenly swings open, smacking him in the face. Vash stumbles backward, clutching his nose, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Angrily huffing away his frustration, he kicks the car door in revenge, not considering it might pull him too when it closes. After wiping his face, he looks around, relieved that no one witnessed his mishap.

However, you did see it. Attracted by the noise, you glanced over just in time to catch the hilarious moment. You wish you had recorded it; it would be perfect to show Wolfwood the next time you see him.

But then reality hits you. You won't be seeing him again. You grab a bag of chips from the shelf and continue your shopping, your clouded thoughts suddenly clearing.

Meanwhile, Vash rubs his nose one last time before glancing back at the handcuffs. His heart sinks as he realizes the glove has torn a bit. Oh no! He didn't mean for this to happen! What's he going to say to you? You'll be disappointed, and that would break his heart. Your grandmother...

Wait a minute.

You don't even have a grandmother.

Exiting the store with a plastic bag in hand, you pull the gas pump out of the car. Stepping to the other side, you peer into the bag.

"I got you some juice and chips. I hope that's..." you begin to say but trail off when you see the handcuffs - handcuffs with no hands to cuff. You mutter a curse. Just when you were trying to do something nice for him. That smooth-talking, cute smiling motherfucker.

Unfortunately for him, the unforgiving desert doesn't conceal his tracks, and they lead in the direction he ran. You jump into the car, knowing you'll catch up with him.

Sure enough, a dune over, you spot Vash sprinting for his life with Wolfwood's cross on his back. You pull up in front of him and lower the window.

"Really? The fuck were you gonna go? There's miles of nothing out here," you say.

"Hey! You started it by lying to me! You don't have a grandma!"

"I have a grandma!" You defend. "I just… Never knew her." You sigh, rubbing the tiredness from your face. "Just get back in the car. Try to escape in a more populated area next time."

Vash reluctantly concedes, realizing he doesn't have much of a choice. He opens the car's back door and tosses the cross inside. As he does, the distant sound of revving engines fills the air, drawing his attention. He listens closely, making out the sound of bandits whooping and laughing like maniacs.

"Bandits. They're attacking the store," he tells you, concern in his voice. You shake your head, leaning your arms on the window.

"So?" you reply indifferently.

"So?! We have to help them!" Vash exclaims, frustrated by your apparent lack of empathy.

"For what? Bandits take everything out here. Everyone knows the risks," you reply with a shrug. Frustrated and unwilling to wait for more of your pessimistic reasoning, Vash takes off back in the direction he came from.

"Vash! Really?!" you call after him. You sit back in the car, realizing that even if he succeeds, he'll still have nowhere else to go. You close your eyes and depress the brake pedal, shifting into drive. "God dammit."

By the time you arrive, Vash is already in the midst of the confrontation, swinging left and right, easily incapacitating the bandits. Part of you considers just watching him from the hood of the car; you expected him to have experience, but he's putting on quite the show.

From what you've seen, Vash the Stampede seems like an imbecile. But this Vash, the one with fire in his eyes, has you questioning which side of him is the real one. It also leaves you wondering why you're so mesmerized by the stark contrast between the two.

One of the bandits attempts to sneak up on Vash, wielding a pipe. With a swift flick of your wrist, your dagger pierces the bandit's shoulder. Vash turns at the screams, locking eyes with you after the bandit falls.

"You could help!" he calls out.

"Nope," you shake your head, your elbows resting on the hood. "Looks like you've got it handled." With that, Vash returns his attention to the ongoing fight.

A hand swiftly snatches your wrist, yanking it behind your back, and you hear the unmistakable click of cuffs sealing around your wrists. Startled, you snap your head toward Wolfwood.

"What the hell?! How did you get here?!" you ask, your struggles to break free intensifying. Wolfwood maneuvers you toward the back of the car, exchanging his cross for your presence, and forcefully slams the door shut.

"Nico!" you urgently press your finger to the pad, but the cuffs remain locked. "You overrode my fingerprint?! Nico! Get back here, you bastard!"

Oh, he's definitely hearing your muffled screams, and it's taking everything in him not to burst into laughter as he joins Vash. With the duo reunited the bandits flee the scene in a hurry, disappearing into the horizon.

The pair returns to the car, chatting merrily amongst themselves. "She's right here," Wolfwood announces, opening the car door and pulling you out, but you resist, tugging away from him. Vash's eyes widen in surprise.

"So, she's our captive now?" Vash inquires.

"Great, isn't it? Serves her right," Wolfwood grins.

"Prick."

"Aw, how cute. Like a pomeranian," Wolfwood teases, only for you to retaliate by kicking him in the shin. "Ow!" Wolfwood crumples.

You slink closer to Vash, who tenses up as you look up at him with big, sweet eyes. "Vashie. I've been good to you, haven't I? Please don't let Nico treat me like this. I promise to be good. Please?" you flutter your lashes.

Vash's cheeks burn crimson. He huffs, runs a hand through his hair, groans, and eventually sighs. "Let her go."

"What?!" both you and Wolfwood exclaim in unison.

You can't believe that worked.

He can't believe that worked!

"Are you insane?! She literally kidnapped you! Twice!" Wolfwood protests. "Not to mention stabbed me! Are you seriously—"

"Just unlock it," Vash insists. Wolfwood grumbles but reaches out to unlatch the cuff from one of your wrists. You swiftly pull your hands to the front, sticking your tongue out at Wolfwood.

Click.

Both of you turn, and Vash secures the other cuff to his own wrist. In silence, you examine where you and Vash are now attached.

"Oh, hell no," you declare immediately.

"The hell?"

"Look, she won't go anywhere without me, and now she won't have to. Whether I'm her captive or she's mine doesn't matter because we'll be attached," Vash says, lifting up your wrists and dangling the cuffs for emphasis.

"Absolutely not," you insist.

"What? Needle noggin, she could kill you."

"She hasn't tried to yet. I trust her," Vash responds, looking at you with a smile that makes your heart race.

Gross.

"Nico, get me the hell out of this," you demand.

"No."

"What do you mean no? You just said you were against it."

"I am against it. But it's also the only way to keep an eye on you."

"This isn't—"

"Excuse me," the store owner's voice draws all three of you to attention, and you turn toward them. They offer a warm smile. "Thank you so much for your help. I'd like to repay you with something to eat, but those bandits made off with most of my inventory."

"Oh, it's not a problem at all. But are you alright?" Vash inquires with genuine concern, making you roll your eyes.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, thanks to you. However, it is getting late, and the best thing I can offer you is the mattresses in the back. They may not be much, but I think they'll suffice."

"Really? That's incredibly kind of you! Thank you!" Vash beams with gratitude.

Without consulting your opinion, Vash guides, or rather drags, you through the store to a shabby back room. To your dismay, there are only two beds. That means... no. You refuse to entertain that idea.

"Get me the hell—"

"Just deal with it," Wolfwood interjects with a sigh, already claiming the bed on the right.

"You must be tired," Vash says, leading you to the other bed. Reluctantly, you follow.

"Absolutely not. You're sleeping on the floor," you declare, plopping down onto the mattress.

"What?! That's not—"

"Besides, this damn thing's too small for two people anyway. Here," you toss the pillow and blanket onto the floor. "Goodnight," you announce before reclining.

"But won't you get cold?" Vash worries, lifting the blanket back to you.

"I don't get cold," you mutter, closing your eyes. Vash concedes, not wanting to disturb you any further.

It feels as though you're enveloped in a cozy cocoon, warm, soft, and filled with a pleasant scent. You could easily get lost in this comfort.

Slowly, you open your eyes, only to find yourself shrouded in darkness. Rolling over, you notice a sliver of moonlight seeping through a small window, illuminating Wolfwood's back. As if to cruelly remind you of your situation, Vash adds a loud snore to the mix. Dammit.

You shift your attention to the cloud-like sensation you're enveloped in—red. Bright red. Project seeds? It's Vash's damn coat. That sneaky bastard! You fling it away to a corner of the bed and sit up.

"Nico," you whisper, trying not to disturb Vash's sleep. He doesn't budge. "Nico!"

"Hm?" Wolfwood mumbles, slowly rousing.

"I need to pee. Come on, let me out of this thing."

"No. Just wait until morning."

"Nico!"

Wolfwood sighs and rises slowly from the bed, trudging across the room to press his finger to the pad, releasing you.

"Be fast."

"I plan on it," you reply, slipping through the door.

The store is eerily silent, but you hurry through it, your one goal to reach the car. The sight of your car has never filled you with such elation before – freedom at last. The door squeaks as you open it and hop inside.

Finally, it's time to get the hell out of here. Hopefully the two will let their guards down in another week. You shove the key into the ignition.

"I trust her."

Vash's words make you pause. Why the fuck are you hesitating?

"I won't let anything happen to you."

Your forehead collides with the steering wheel. What's wrong with you?

The worn spring mattress creaks as you sit back down. You shift your jaw and pull the cuff back over your wrist, latching it in frustration. Grabbing the discarded coat from the corner, you lie down again. With your eyes scrunched closed, you curse yourself.

Vash smiles.

It blinks blue tonight.

The sweltering heat jolts you awake, and you curse under your breath. Is it morning already? You would've welcomed a few more moments of blissful slumber. You're so comfortable that you could almost forget the world exists.

Your tired eyes flutter open, only to be met with darkness, but it's not the familiar darkness of night. It's the darkness of fabric. You lift your gaze, taking a few moments to comprehend what you're seeing.

Vash.

He's right there in the bed next to you, holding you close as if you might vanish. His gentle yet slightly calloused fingers entwined with yours, bridging the gap between you. The cuff still binds you together, and it's his warmth that's now surrounding you, ensuring you won't succumb to the cold. He holds you with a tenderness that suggests you mean something precious to him.

But something within you rebels.

No.

You shove.

"Whu-ah-uhf!" Vash collides with the floor. "Ouch," he groans. He sits up rubbing the back of his head. "What was that for?!"

"I should be asking you that! Why the hell were you-"

"Keep it down, idiots. It's still morning," Wolfwood says entering the room. He tosses some food onto the bed at your feet.

"Nico! You'd better let me out of this fucking thing right now!" You snap.

"You know that's not gonna happen." Nico sits on the other bed tearing open a new carton of cigarettes.

"Are you kidding me?!" You snap. Something waves around in the corner of your vision. You look down to the donut Vash offers to you with a smile.

"Please, accept this token of my sorryness," he says. With a sigh you take the donut.

Driving with just one hand isn't the smartest move out here in the dunes, but the idea of letting Wolfwood take the wheel? That's a disaster waiting to happen, and you're not about to find out how that might unfold. Plus, the thought of being stuck in the backseat with Vash doesn't sound much better. You shudder at the notion that he might talk your ear off, and the idea of dislocating your wrist to escape the conversation isn't appealing either.

However, as you sit in the front seat, you notice that Vash is remarkably quiet. Wolfwood succumbed to sleep not long after hopping into the car, sparing you from his commentary on Vash's silence. But you won't complain about it either.

When you steal a sideways glance at Vash, you catch a glimpse of a subtle smile on his face, which is somewhat reassuring. Not that you'd admit to caring one way or the other.

The two of them allowed you to take the wheel, as long as you steer clear of July. Instead, you're headed toward some nameless town. Right now, your destination doesn't matter much; all you care about is finding a place with a cold beer waiting for you.

The radio drones on with some evangelical station, filling the silence between the sound of sand against the car. It's becoming tiresome, and you yearn for some music, anything to break the monotony. You ponder the idea of getting some tapes or something. Hell, even Vash's chatter would be an improvement over this drivel. Finally, you decide to take action, reaching out to switch off the radio. Vash's attention finally shifts to you.

"You okay?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy," you reply, your tone heavy with sarcasm. Surprisingly, Vash chuckles.

"Trust me this town is really great. All the people are nice and the food's amazing too. But if you need a break to stretch your legs, I'm all for it."

"No. I'm fine."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I guess."

"Why did you volunteer?"

Damn. You curse yourself for not anticipating his curiosity. After all, he's been alongside Wolfwood this entire time; there's probably nothing he doesn't know.

"It's just… it's what Knives wanted from me."

"Nai forced you?"

"No. Knives saved me and I promised him I'd do anything in return. He waited until the treatment was perfected, and I became his soldier. I… Would do anything for him."

"Does Wolfwood know this?"

"He suspects, but doesn't know the whole story," you say. "I was… Born into a trafficking ring. The day I was meant to go up for auction Knives appeared. He slaughtered them all and saved me. Conrad employed the best fighters to train me and after the treatment was complete, I was perfect. I've taken on every job Knives has ever asked me to."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"

"Save it," you interrupt, cutting him off. "I'm not hung up on it or anything. Besides, I don't blame Nico either. We were all just kids anyway." Wolfwood's gaze drifts out of the window and no one mentions the absence of his snoring.

As the sky begins to paint itself with shades of orange and pink, you roll up to the town. Vash had succumbed to sleep a while ago, but even without his watchful eye, you continued driving to their destination. Like an idiot.

For a bit of gentle revenge, you tap the brakes a little too firmly as you park. Both men jolt forward and groan. "Oh, good, you're up."

"Devil woman," Wolfwood grumbles from the backseat.

"I'm starving," you mutter.

"Come on. I know the perfect place," Vash chimes in with a smile. The three of you step into the lively town, most of its residents hanging out outdoors despite the late hour. Vash moves through the town with an air of contentment, which strikes you as odd, given his bounty.

Unfortunately, the warmth isn't reciprocated by the townspeople. They glance over at you three but quickly sour. Vash remains oblivious, thankfully, but Wolfwood, always the observer, takes a moment to grasp that they're not looking at Vash.

"Are you famous around here?" he inquires of you.

"Something like that," you mutter. Vash raises his head and scans the crowd.

"You've been here before?" Vash asks.

"Once," you reply.

"We don't have to stay—"

"It's fine. They'll still take my money."

"Okay," Vash agrees. "It's just up here."

Vash leads you both around the corner, and you catch sight of the bar. Regrettably, the bounty hunters lurking outside also lock eyes with you.

"Shit," you mutter, grabbing Vash and Wolfwood, pulling them forcefully out of sight.

"Isn't that Millions Knives' favorite little hunter?!" one of the hunters calls out.

"You need to get this off me now," you demand, your voice trembling with urgency.

"What? What's the matter with-" Vash begins, but you cut him off.

"Those are bounty hunters who have spent their lives looking for Vash. They would eat him alive. Unlock it!" Vash turns stiff at your sudden grotesque choice of words, and with a harsh gulp nervously pulls at his collar.

"What's your plan?" Wolfwood asks, his eyes narrowing.

"They won't just let me go. Please, trust me!" you plead desperately. "And get Vash out of here!"

Wolfwood clenches his jaw, processing the danger as the voices that sing-song your name draw nearer. Nico sighs, finally unlocking the cuff.

"I'll find you," you promise, then swiftly retreat back around the corner, leaving the two men.

"Be careful," Vash mutters though he knows you won't hear him.

"Thought that was you!" one of them barks, swaggering toward you with a lopsided grin. "Who're your buddies?"

"Just some damn newbies that won't take a hint," you retort with a cocky edge. "I had to show 'em who's boss and sent 'em running." The bounty hunter laughs, and two more rough-looking figures join the group.

"You're right on time. The real party's just gettin' started," another one says, tossing a meaty arm over your shoulder.

"Really? Is DedRod here?" you inquire, making them erupt in raucous laughter.

"God rest his damn soul," another hunter chimes in.

Inside the bar, your popularity takes a nosedive. They all recognize you and know who you work for, and more importantly, they're well aware of the task he's given you. Their expectations are sky-high, and you realize you'll have to spin a tale of failure, even if that means it gets back to Knives.

"She said she'd nab the Typhoon! Look at her now—still empty-handed!" an old-timer, way past his prime for this gig, spits venomously onto the table.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave him off, the bar erupting into a rowdy chorus. "I've been at this, what, less than a week? How long have you been chasing that ghost? Oh right, a God damn decade! And you're still only chasing your tails." You slam back the rest of your pint, punctuating your point.

Vash and Wolfwood sit at a modest pop-up stand, their meal consumed in silence. Vash stares down into his bowl, the contents as cloudy as he feels. His fingers tighten around the utensil. "Should we have really left her back there?" Vash mumbles, his concern palpable.

"They're bounty hunters. She made the right call," Wolfwood replies firmly. "She knows them. She knows what she's doing."

"I just can't trust it," Vash adds, his worry unabated.

"It? You mean them?" Wolfwood probes.

"You saw the way they acted!" Vash retorts.

"Let it go. She'll be alright," Wolfwood reassures, his confidence unwavering.

Hours later, you stagger through the town, your senses dulled by alcohol. You managed to slip away when the others succumbed to sleep, sprawled wherever they fell. You may not know exactly where you're headed, but you do know you can't stay there. It's best to make your way back to your car; at least you can pass out there.

A hulking figure crosses your path, and a grating voice shatters your blurry thoughts, "What do we have here?" With half-lidded eyes, you meet the man's gaze.

"Move," you slur, attempting to assert yourself.

"Seems like you've had a bit too much to drink. Why don't you come with me? I'll take care of you," the man leers.

"Fuck off. I won't tell you again," you manage to say, trying to sidestep him, but he seizes your arm, yanking you back.

"Don't be like that. I'm just trying to help you," he persists, pulling you closer and grabbing your waist. "Promise I'll be gentle."

"Get the hell away!" You attempt to push him off, but you're drained of strength.

Help... Help... Va-

"Let her go," a chilling voice pierces the night, freezing your heart. "Now!" That signature revolver is now inches from the man's head.

"There's no need for that. You see, my girlfriend here just gets a little feisty after a few drinks," the man smirks.

"I said," Vash cocks back the hammer. "Let her go." Seeing his inevitable defeat, the man releases you with his hands raised. Vash takes your elbow with gentle fingers, his entire demeanor shifting when he looks at you. His blue eyes convey care and concern.

"You okay?" he asks, his presence feeling like a lifeline.

"You're here," you murmur in awe. In this moment, Vash appears as an angel in your eyes. He smiles before turning his attention back to the man, his sweet face now wearing a scowl you've never seen before, almost making him look like—

"Beat it," Vash orders, and the man grumbles as he walks away. Vash lowers his gun and holsters it, returning his full focus to you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You step closer, burying your face in his chest, fingers gripping his shirt. His scent envelops you, his warmth seeping through your skin. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulses through you, comforting you. "Vash."

"What is it?" His hands find your shoulders.

"Vash," you repeat, his name a mantra on your lips. He's here. He came.

Vash tenderly cups your cheeks, tilting your face up. "I'm right here."

"Promise me you won't leave," you implore, your eyes revealing what you can't put into words. It's the fear of losing something you've grown to care for, a fear he knows all too well.

Vash blinks in surprise, taken aback by your request. But nonetheless, he won't refuse. "I promise," Vash assures, as his hand cradles the back of your head, holding you close. "I'll never leave your side."

Wolfwood rounds the corner, spotting the unmistakable red coat. Vash walks down the deserted street, you safely in his embrace. Wolfwood joins you both halfway.

"What the hell happened? I turned around, and you were gone," Wolfwood says, glancing down at you, fast asleep.

"I just... heard her."

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. Just needs some rest."

"I hear that," Wolfwood says.

Still blue tonight.

THIS IS NOT THE END!

Click the AO3 link to read the full fic!

Thank you ❤

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun fanfiction