#red coat of betrayal ( vash )

[deathsdevotee]

tag dump

unworthy follower ( self ) angel of ruin ( master knives ) red coat of betrayal ( vash ) out of threads ( ooc ) unknown inquiries ( anon ask ) maggots demanding knowedge ( ask ) servant of ruin's angel ( main verse )

[deadlydevotion]

tag drop

unworthy follower ( self ) angel of ruin ( master knives ) red coat of betrayal ( vash ) out of threads ( ooc ) unknown inquiries ( anon ask ) maggots demanding knowedge ( ask )

[triplesilverstar]

Interrupted

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X Female character

CW: Dirty talk, talk of marriage, grinding, being walked in on, almost P in V sex

Word count: Roughly 3K 

A/N: Once more Vash has broken his hand in a way you can't fix which means back to Home for some repairs. While you're there a subject comes up that you aren't sure how you really feel about it and it leads to things getting a little hot and heavy between you and Brad. 

Pushing the joint you hear a sharp hiss, raising a single eyebrow before letting your eyes follow, Vash biting the corner of his lip and you can see one of his sharp canines sticking out. A small tear at the corner of one of his blue orbs, watery and once he catches your gaze he puts on his best pout and tries his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. 

“That’s not gonna work, Sunshine.” Not because he doesn’t know your weakness, nope it’s a far similar reason. “I can’t fix this, The second knuckle joint is locked and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

His attempt at swaying you into helping him fades as quickly as he lets out a long breath. “Are you sure?” A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes, his sunglasses perched atop his head while the two of you sat on the bed. 

“I’m sure. You know what that means.” Chuckling as he falls backward against the bed. “We’re going Home.” 

It took the two of you a few days to find the sandstorm that held the ship you called Home floating around the planet. Another few days and both of you took the pair of Tomas you had into the storm and into the service bay near the base of the ship. Shaking your head to try and loosen some of the grains of sand before pulling your scarf away from your head and face. 

The Tomas you’re sitting on shaking, sending a pile of sand to the floor in a similar fashion to Vash and you move farther into the bay. Seeing the familiar form of Brad in the doorway you wave before dismounting, taking the bird to a pen removing the harnesses, and putting water in a bowl for the bird before going to help Vash. 

“Well well, didn’t expect to see you two Home so soon after last time.” He folds his arms across his chest, and when Vash hisses as his finger gets caught in the saddle straps as it’s removed. “What’d ya break?” 

You don’t give Vash a chance to respond and beat around the brush for his injuries “The second joint of his ring finger is locked up. He tried to catch a car with his hand, the car won.” 

“Mayfly!” The whine Vash lets out at your betrayal is almost funny, but you don’t want to spend the next twenty minutes of Vash and Brad doing their usual song and dance. 

“Was it at least for a good reason?” Brad grouses, sending you a signal that he’s at least glad he already knows what he needs to work on and without a waste of time. 

“I saved a little girl” Vash pouts looking at you instead of Brad, but you know Brad will just be slightly less mean about how he treats Vash as he works on his prosthetic. Waving at Brad once you were both done, watching Vash follow after the older man while you head for your shared room with both your bags. At least while his hand is being worked on you can see about mending some of your clothes and doing the rare loads of laundry. 

A few hours later you found yourself sitting in the cafeteria with a cup of coffee, humming as you savored the dark brew and listening to some of the inhabitant's chatter. Occasionally being pulled into the conversations when something about the planet was asked, and while you were a bit of an outlier on the spaceship the regular inhabitants still tried to include you and Vash when you were onboard. 

“Hey, there you are.” Grinning, you push the chair backward so you’re tilting on two of the legs and angling your head your vision filled with an upside-down Vash. “I didn’t think I’d find you here of all places.”

Taking in his appearance while the others greet Vash which he returns, you know he went to the room first, his red coat and holster stripped from his body. Glancing downwards you notice the hand and forearm of his prosthetic are missing, raising an eyebrow at him as you bring all four legs back to the floor and turn in earnest to look at him.

“Once I got the laundry done I got invited to coffee.” Gesturing with an open palm to the other three at the table. “What’s the news about your hand?” 

“Brad needs to keep it for the day, he said he needs to replace the joint itself.” Ruffling the back of his head with his flesh hand and sending you a grin of his own. “Guess I did get a little too carried away this time.” 

“Ya think.” You deadpan before rolling your eyes. Finishing your coffee you stand, heading for another cup as Vash is invited to join and he takes the chair you had been seated in. 

From the serving station with the coffee, you can hear the others chattering to Vash excitedly catching up since the last time the two of you had been here had been more by chance than planned. Vash might try to deny it, but these people are his family and it makes that small flame in your chest flicker when you see him interacting with them. While refilling your cup, you make a second with far more cream and sugar than anyone should have to bring back for Vash. 

Placing it in front of him on the table and watching him pat his flesh hand on his lap, an invitation. You were just going to go grab another chair to drag over, but. This is Home. The one place you don’t have to hide the fact you’re together, where you can do stupid little things that make your heart melt like just holding his hand around people. 

Letting the tension from your shoulders drop you slip into his lap, feeling that same flesh hand pat your hip briefly before reaching for his coffee. “Thank you, Mayfly.” Whispered in your ear as he leaned closer for it, sending your tummy a flutter with nerves. 

Both of you rejoin the conversation, well you mostly listen and answer when asked a question while Vash is a regular part of the banter. 

“So. When are the two of you getting married?” The coffee that you had been swallowing goes down the wrong pipe as you gasp fist slamming your chest to loosen it while you’re certain you look bugged-eyed in response. Where the hell had that come from? 

“Well ugh we’ve never really talked about it” Vash is being bashful, rubbing circles on your back while you place the cup back on the table still gently coughing trying to clear your throat. “It’s not like we can say anything outside of Home anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.” Something in his voice catches your attention, but you’ll ask him about it later when it’s just the two of you.

“Aw, well that’s too bad. I mean the two of you make a cute couple and it’s not like we often have much to talk about here. So whenever you two are around it’s fun to tease you.” The woman who first asked the question, Jessica, smirks resting her chin on her head on the table looking a little dreamy. 

“Right tease,” another woman remarks, Tess, playful shoving Jessica. “Has nothing to do with the fact you used to have a crush on Vash yourself.” 

That makes the entire table laugh and the conversation moves on to something else, and later as the mugs are put away and you and Vash are heading for your room you stretch your shoulders and bring your arms down feeling Vash interlace his fingers with yours. 

“So…” You drag the word out, glancing at the tall blond beside you. 

“Why did you start to choke when the marriage thing came up?” Well, at least now you know why his voice had dropped a little when he answered the question. 

“Honestly?” Making sure you have eye contact with him as you make your way down the hall, you don’t want him to take this the wrong way like he did your reaction in the cafeteria. “I wasn’t expecting it. I mean you had to have been thrown a little too, going from talking about worms to marriage.” 

Watching his nose twitch in thought. “What do you think about the actual idea?” You don’t miss the slight bite to his lip after he asks the question, a sign of his worry about what you might say. 

“Marriage is kind of a social contract, isn’t it? Just made more formal by a piece of paper and metal?” You shrug and watch him roll his eyes as you flippant answer. “I just guess I’ve never really thought about it all that much before, probably because I never thought I’d ever find someone to love.” That part is honest, as the two of you reach your bedroom door and step inside. 

Letting your hand go and waving his own along the inside to lock the door mechanism while you move further in and look at your shared space. It’s not much but the more times you come Home, the more it’s starting to feel like your and Vash’s little slice of, well, normal. In these four walls, the two of you can just be you. Not the Ghost Sniper, and not the Humanoid Typhoon. Just two lovers who are still figuring things out. 

Looking over your shoulder you grin seeing him looking at the floor with his eyes a little downcast, no doubt still thinking about the previous conversation. “For the record” waiting to continue until his head rises and those sparkling blue eyes that are currently full of sorrow look into your own mischievous ones. “I love you more than you’ll ever know, you big dork. After all, I technically offered to marry you before.” 

The sorrow slowly morphs into annoyance before jubilation as he closes the distance and wraps his arm around you. Burying his nose in your neck and tickling your skin making you laugh. “Big dork huh?” While you can’t see his face, you can picture the smirk starting to form on his visage unsurprised he ignores the reminder about your proposal of marriage when you had been eating his cooking unaware it was him. “Well, I have something else big that I don’t think you deserve right now. ” 

“Oh come on Sunshine. I’m a good girl, don’t I deserve it?” You tease right back, grabbing both of his butt cheeks playfully and making him jump in surprise. The wash of his warm breath across your sensitive skin makes you shiver in delight. 

“You.” Trailing his nose along the column of your neck up to your ear. “Are.” Still dragging the tip across the ridge of your cheekbone. “Never” a quick peck to the tip of your nose before he keeps moving, across to the other cheekbone. “A” His nose is at the shell of your other ear, tracing the outside of it before pressing his lips against it and murmuring directly into the opening. “Good girl.” Bitting into the bottom of your lobe you hiss, but damn, his words have a fire starting in your core. 

Clenching your thighs together to try and gain some friction, while one hand snakes its way under the hem of his shirt to touch the skin of his back, and the other is tangled in his hair, gripping the blond silky strands. Moaning against the side of his face you feel his hips jerk against yours, grinding softly against your core. 

The obvious tent in his pants pressing against your clothed pussy, his knees bent just enough so your sexes are only separated by the layers of clothing you’re both wearing. “Then.” Licking your lips as Vash releases the flesh in his mouth to lick and suck at the skin just beneath it. “Does that mean I’m your bad girl?” With your hand back on his ass, you grind with more enthusiasm against his hard trapped cock, feeling your panties starting to grow wet. 

A low growl leaves him, as his hand pushes your shirt up so he work his hand under it and to your front, squeezing one of your tits through the fabric of your bra. “Yea.” Dragging his teeth down your neck, his fangs no doubt leaving two lines of red behind. “And you know what happens to bad girls?” His voice has dropped to that husky octave you love, and your core twinges with a flood of wetness as your arousal grows stronger, more insistent. 

“What?” Whispered as if you’re sharing a secret, scrapping your nails along the skin of his head feeling him shudder and his dick twitching in the confines of his pants. You have to wonder if there’s a damp spot growing where his head is, making his boxers stick to his warm skin. 

“They get punished” Your knees almost buckle as he bites into the pulse point of your neck, sucking harshly and jerking his hips against yours. Fuck you think you might cum from this alone. All you can do is hold onto him as he humps you through your clothes and keeps the soft skin between his lips. 

Mewling at his affection and the throbbing in your core, you don’t want to keep standing here like this. You want him inside of you, anywhere inside of you, just the need to feel more of his skin against yours eating at you like you’re being consumed by the haze of arousal floating in your mind. “Vash, please!” Panting as you grip at him, hips still moving and chasing that high you both want. 

Letting your skin go with a wet pop, you hiss the bruise throbbing as the cool air of the room hits it. “Please what Mayfly?” His hand has the fabric of your bra pushing to the side so his fingers can fondle and pinch at your tender flesh directly. Teasing you as he blows against the purple that’s blossoming from his affection, another shiver rakes your body the pleasure making your mind hazy.

But not too hazy to tell him what you want. “I want you Vash, please!” Desperation laces your words, as your hands finally move between your bodies enough sense returning to you to use them for more than just grasping him. 

“Hmmm. Fucking is a reward and I don’t think you’ve been good.”  You let out a long low whine, as he moves his hand to catch both of yours in his larger one. The thought of him denying you makes part of you clench loving the thought of a long drawn-out session. 

Vash has been getting a lot better at being more dominant in the bedroom, no longer the blushing virgin he had first been. He still fumbles but he knows you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you as he explores more of his own sexuality and since that first time, he’s grown to crave any shred of physical intimacy the two of you can partake in. 

“Maybe you should punish me more instead?” You try to compromise, falling into the role of a sub because with how wet you are you want some kind of release and any affection he wants to give you might push you over the edge with how rilled up you feel. As his hips jerk against yours once more, you notice the light sheen of sweat near his shaved sideburns. He’s as horny as you are. 

A happy little moan as he releases your hands, almost as if in contemplation before he kisses you for the first time since you moved into the room tonight. A kiss you’re happy to deepen as you part your lips to glide and tangle your tongue with his, tasting the remains of his coffee in his mouth. His hand is at your fly, working it open and you take the hint, helping him with his own. 

When you break apart it’s a flurry of movement as each of you tosses clothing items away desperate to remove all the barriers between you. When that’s done Vash is pressing against your again, mouth hot on yours and his burning dick trapped between your bodies smearing precum across your lower belly. 

As the back of your legs hit the bedframe you fall backward onto the mattress, scrambling more onto it and Vash is quick to follow. Kneeing between your supple thighs and stroking his cock while looking at your soaked pussy. “I’m gonna bring you to the edge until you can’t even scream anymore.” Voice dark you clench in anticipation, licking your lips and moving your hands to rest over the swell of your breasts. 

Vash is moving his tip to rub against your folds. Only for the door to make a noise of attempting to open before someone says something on the other side and unlocks it coming in. 

You squeal, grabbing the bedding under you and trying to hide your form as a male voice makes an awkward scream of its own. Face blazing as you try and hide and feel Vash doing the same sheltering your lower half with his and grabbing handfuls of the blanket to try and wrap around himself. 

“What the hell you two!” Brad bellows, and you refuse to uncover your crimson, flushed face. 

“We locked the door!” Vash bellows right back, which would have had more effect if it hadn’t cracked with embarrassment halfway through. 

“I swear Brad!” You scream from under the blankets. “You really are a dirty old man!” 

“Guh, huh, I mean” 

“Get out!” You and Vash yell in tandem and as the door hisses shut you finally move the bedding to look at your lover, who wears a sporting look of red from the base of his neck to the top of his hairline.

This made six times you and Vash stayed home, and six attempted intimate moments ruined by either Brad or Luida walking in on you two. “Are we just, never meant to have sex here?” You mutter knowing neither one of you is going to want to finish after that. 

“I’m starting to think no,” Vash answers dragging a hand down his face his erection gone. “Might as well get dressed and see what he wants.” 

The next day, Vash’s hand fixed and reconnected the two of you are back in the bay saddling your Tomas. Still frustrated from being interrupted by Brad as you tighten the straps you see Vash looking downcast before mounting his own bird. 

Once atop your mount, you reach out across the distance for his flesh hand, having already said goodbye to everyone else on the ship. There was no need to see you both off. “Hey.” You whisper, just loud enough to get his attention. 

Smiling hoping it shows all the affection you feel swelling in your heart as you look at your blond boyfriend. “About the marriage thing.” You see a light starting to flicker in those deep pools of blue. “Ask me sometime when you know it’s what you want, I might just think it’s a social contract but I think my answer might surprise you.” 

In your own non-romantic, yet sort of romantic way, you’ve told him your answer, and the face-splitting grin that breaks out across his face makes your heart soar. You really do love this idiot, even if his family always screws up you getting lucky with him. 

Back to Masterlist for the series

[cobawrites]

A Gust of Wind (Vash x Reader), Chapter 3

Vash x Reader, GN! Reader, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn Romance. No real tw’s for this chapter, but see warnings for chapters 1 and 2, and some future chapters. Reader awakens to an unfamiliar world, left alone and struggling with mental health problems from before the crash. Vash emerges as a guiding light for Reader, and vice versa.

First >> Prev >> Chp. 3 >> Next

                                                    A Gust of Wind

                                                       Chapter 3

              The following morning woke you with a pounding headache. You supposed that’s just what happens when you spend all day hiking up tall cliffs, under two scorching desert suns, with no food or water.

              Wait a minute… Hiking all day? You jumped into an upright position in surprise, regretting your decision slightly as your vision dimmed from the sudden movement. Had you passed out before reaching the cliffs? You could have sworn…

              You looked around, severely disoriented. What seemed to be some sort of shallow cave entrance sheltered you just enough from the sun’s harsh rays. You wondered how you got here, but memories of last night’s events soon came flooding back once you noticed the bright red coat you had on.

              “Wow, you’re up sooner than I thought you’d be.”

              You turned around to see Vash reclined against his bag, munching on a small piece of jerky and holding open a journal. Your journal. The one that was supposed to be tucked away in the bag you’d left back at the cliffs.

              “Hey, put that down, Goldilocks!” You scrambled toward him to yank the book out of his hand, but missed as he raised it away from you. “Where’d you even get that?”

              “I took the liberty of retrieving your stuff while you were passed out. I came across it last night while getting back up the cliffs. Well, most of it, at least.” He reached behind him to pull your bag forward. It had several tears and a few slimy marks on the side pockets. “Turns out worms really like expired nutrition bars!”

              “Gross,” you grimaced, but took the bag from him anyway, digging around for a spare shirt and a water cannister. You put the shirt on and handed the coat back to Vash, who traded you for the jerky in his hand. It looked a bit suspicious, and was giving off a pungent stench. “Um… What is this?”

              “It’s good,” said Vash. “Just eat it.”

              You nibbled the corner, and deciding that it wasn’t so bad after all, you quickly scarfed down the rest. You felt a hundred times better after washing it down with a long drink from the cannister.

              Vash peered at you curiously, clearly holding back a smile. You raised an eyebrow. What was he plotting this time? He offered you another piece, and you took it, deciding to ignore the expression on his face in favor of quelling your growling stomach.

              “That’s worm meat, by the way.”

              You stopped mid chew and stared at him in disbelief and betrayal, feeling as though your breakfast might rear its ugly head again at any moment. You were half tempted to spit it out, but if you did, it would be that much harder to keep the rest down. And damn it, you were hungry. Instead, you shoved what was left in your mouth and swallowed it as fast as you could. The roller coaster of emotions on your face had Vash clutching his belly with tears in his eyes. Very funny… Funny, funny man…

              You took the opportunity to snatch the journal away from him, smacking him over the head with it as you leaned away. You flipped through the pages quickly, stopping occasionally to ensure that nothing had fallen out. Finally, you came to the most important page, but the picture you had tucked away was missing.

              “Looking for this?” Vash waved a small photograph in front of you.

              “I really mean it this time. Give that back.” You stood up fully and outstretched your hand. To your surprise, he handed it to you without a fuss. His hand lingered over your palm for a second before setting the picture down.

              Grateful, you tucked it back into the journal, just barely taking the time to make sure it was undamaged. You laid back down on the ground, journal in hand, and fingers brushing small lines on the corners of the front cover.

              “I’m sorry.” He said after a few minutes of silence. You shook your head dismissively.

“And just so you know, I didn’t mean to go through your stuff. It’s just that it was everywhere when I found it. I figured that journal meant a lot to you… so…” he trailed off.

You nodded, eyes shut tight as you clutched the book in your hands. Part of you wanted to open the notebook again, but another part of you was afraid to look the photo in the eyes after what you had done last night.

“Tell me. How long has it been?” You asked. “Since the crash, I mean. I’m sorry if that’s a weird question, but I assume you already know why I’m asking…”

He chewed at the corner of his bottom lip. “About a hundred and fifty years…”

You let out a sharp breath and touched your forehead to the ground. You knew that a long time had passed since you landed on this planet, but a hundred and fifty years?

“Listen, I…” he started, but couldn’t find the right words to finish his sentence. Instead, he came over and sat down beside you, putting his hand on your shoulder with a light squeeze. You both stayed silent for a while.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it just yet,” he said after some time, breaking the silence. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”

You shifted uncomfortably, sitting up, and crossed your arms with a huff. “What are you, my shrink?”

“Well…” Vash backed away a bit, giving you some space. “Maybe not a shrink. But… more like… a friend?”

You tried to hide a scowl, but failed. You were still angry with him for what he had done yesterday, but at the same time, you couldn’t deny how well-intentioned his actions had been up to this point. Selfless and caring. Sweet, even. Vash wasn’t the one to blame for your problems, so you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty seeing his timid expression as he looked away.

“It’s… It’s not that I…” Sighing, you looked at him apologetically. Despite the strong and friendly disposition he had shown you so far, it was plain to see that he had some turbulence of his own.

You had loneliness in your eyes, huh? Well, maybe he did, too.

Yet, the way he dealt with it could not have been more drastically different. Vash put himself in danger to save others, while you put yourself in danger to save…? You dismissed the bitter thought, realizing that the end to that sentence was rather selfish. Just like your siblings used to say.

Either way, at this rate, you’d both end up dead sooner or later. You didn’t care what kind of superhuman Vash was. His luck would run out eventually, in the same way that your strength had run out on you.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs a friend…” You said, wishing you had conveyed a gentler tone, but finding yourself unable to mask the distinct bitterness in your voice.

Vash pursed his lips and stood up to collect his bag. “I rebandaged your leg last night while you were asleep,” he said. His eagerness to change the topic did not escape your notice. “Can you walk?”

You cocked your head to the side. Was he serious?

“Look, I appreciate you grabbing my stuff and patching up my leg. I really do. But I’m afraid we’re headed in two very different directions.” You said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Actually, we’re not.” He said, very matter of fact. “While I hate to… uhhh… inconvenience you… You’re coming with me, and that’s that.”

“What, are you going to carry me again?” You rolled your eyes.

“I will if I have to.” He shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “And for the record, I hope you know that I am much, much stronger than you.”

At this, you eyed him up and down. Sure, you’d seen him in action. You knew he was more beast than man. But still… those legs were looking awfully slender.

“I bet I could kick your kneecaps in.”

Vash laughed and feigned an exaggeratedly hurt look, clutching his hand to his chest. “But if you kick my kneecaps in, who will help Marlene and Georgie find supplies for their town?”

This caught you off guard. You had forgotten all about that. They must have been scavenging for dead worms out near the cliffs to bring back for meat. You furrowed your brows and chewed your nails for a moment.

“The ship!” You stood up excitedly, catching him by surprise. “The ship I came from can’t be too far from here, and it’s got plenty of preserved supplies! Medicine, and those nutrition bars and stuff. Some of it’s gone bad, but a good chunk of it is still okay.”

“Hey! Now we’re talking!” Vash pumped his fists in the air. “Can you show me where this ship is?”

You nodded, wiggling your ankle around to test the pain. It hurt quite a bit, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, glancing worriedly at where some small red spots already marked your fresh bandages. You nodded once again. “Well, if you’re sure, then let’s head back to town first. We can pick up a thomas or two. That’ll cut down the travel time to and from the ship.”

“A what now?” You asked. For a second, a ridiculous image of a sap named Thomas, running around with the two of you on his back, sprung to mind. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, right, you’re probably fresh out of the freezer – I mean – cryochamber.” He mused, scratching his chin. “They’re like… huge, feathery uuuhhh… two-legged creatures? They’re good as transportation and pack animals.”

“The freezer? Really? What am I, a popsicle?”

“I like that idea!” He laughed. “If you get to call me Goldilocks and blondie and… Cattle-egret-looking-ass, was it? Then, I get to call you popsicle.”

You scrunched up your nose and gave him the finger.

“A licorice flavored one, by the looks of that attitude.” He grumbled, hands on his hips.

You flashed him a playful smile and picked up your bag. “Alright, you win pretty boy. Let’s go.”

He blinked in your direction as you stepped outside the cave. “What, so it’s pretty boy now?” He chuckled. You nodded. “Alright then. I can get used to that one, at least.”

[snowpoet123]

Until next Stampede Saturday, you can't prove me wrong, so here goes nothing:

Vash is (believed) dead, Meryl was there as a witness, Wolfie wanted to go back and help.

He did go back.

He couldn't help.

He's right on time for the aftermath, but too late to help him. The only thing he could retrieve from the rubble unscathed were Meryl and Vash's glasses.

Straight cigarette, a gift from Roberto, may he rest in peace, between his lips as he only sees her cry.

Meryl's report is a banger, it was hard to decipher, because her tears washed out the colour from her handwritten draft. But it made front page all over Noman's Land meager newspaper landscape.

And the planet wasn't the same afterwards. Vash, who had been tanking the social security system on his lonesome, was nowhere to be found.

Chaos reigned.

Undertakers were needed at every corner.

Still, Wolfie never gave up, hoping against hope that his friend's red coat would blossom somewhere again.

Holding the orange tinted sunglasses at night, close to his heart, struggling to love and peace his way through.

Over and over, he repeated his own words to himself.

No matter how heavy the cross is you’re carrying; you could always fill your stomach and laugh.

How heavy the cross on his back was.

How heavy the burden of his betrayal.

How heavy Vash's smile as they parted, as he willingly walked into the knife. Both figuratively and literally. Trying to make it easy for both of them.

How heavy his heart yearned for him.

How heavy the cross on his back was, but he had to fill his stomach and laugh.

And carry on.

If this gets 100+ notes, I will write a 1000+ word fanfiction with this theme. I might write it anyway, but please let me have a figment of fame.

[crucifixi]

You wake up to an empty bed.

Vash is nowhere to be seen, and hasn't left any kind of note. It's too familiar—did he change his mind again? Has he left without you? Did he leave you behind?

Does he even care?

Your mind begins to race with thoughts of chasing—but if Vash doesn't want to be caught, should you even bother? Perhaps, like last time, leaving it be is the best conclusion—

—his bag is still in the room. He hasn't gone far, unless he left all of his supplies behind. Relief floods your heart, calms you. Of course you trust Vash to stay. He said he would. Part of you sinks with guilt for even thinking otherwise.

Before you're able to ruminate on it further, the door creaks open; a steel-toed black combat boot enters first, followed by a sparkling blue eye that pierces even through sunset colored glasses. Vash peeks in and notices that you're awake—you think you hear a quiet 'tsk' in disappointment before he steps through the door and shuts it behind him.

"Dang, was hoping I'd make it here before you woke up," he starts, carrying a delicious smelling bag to you, "Happy birthday, Wolfwood~" The blond bends over to kiss you on the temple, then takes your hand and kisses the back of it as well.

Inside the bag are several take-out boxes that contain: three large slices of french toast (what does 'french' mean?) coated in strawberries and blueberries and blackberries and stuffed with custard, a box of perfectly crisp hash browns, and a box with three strips of bacon and three sausage links. He also sets a coffee—just the way you like it—on the night stand. Everything is still hot—not a thing is soggy or room temperature.

It's a luxury to get fresh fruit on this planet, but it seems that Vash hit the jackpot. You ponder how much this could have cost him for the briefest moment before you forget about that and just care about the feast in front of you.

Once you finish eating—or rather, inhaling—your food and wash up, Vash is sitting on the side of the bed and pats the space next to him. He's not wearing his iconic red jacket anymore, instead dressed in a sleeveless, slim turtleneck. It's tucked into his jeans that are protected by black leather chaps which flow into knee-high, belted combat boots with steel toes. You know that a knife hides within the front of the outsole.

"Got you a present," he says, scooting closer to you and pulling out a small white box wrapped in a red ribbon, "I saw this a couple towns back and it made me think of you. I hope you like it."

You open it eagerly. Inside is a pendant attached to a loose metal chain—long enough to rest comfortably against your chest. The necklace depicts a majestic metal bird—a phoenix, you think.

Vash leans against you, resting his head on your shoulder, "Happy birthday. I love you."

⠀⠀⠀Wolfwood's eyes blink open to the empty bed beside him, the absence of a familiar weight a stark contrast to the norm. A frown tugs at his lips, his heart beginning to pound a little faster in his chest. Vash is gone. Again.

He sits up, a sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his unkempt hair. The thoughts that race through his mind are all too familiar, bringing back painful memories of the last time Vash disappeared without a trace. The uncertainty, the fear, the betrayal—they all come rushing back, and for a moment, he feels lost.

But then he notices the bag. The bag that Vash would never leave behind. His heart skips a beat, relief washing over him in an overwhelming wave. He lets out a shaky laugh, feeling foolish for jumping to conclusions. Trusting Vash has never been an issue for him, so why did he doubt now?

Before he can descend further into his thoughts, the door opens, revealing the man himself. Any resentment he might have felt evaporates in an instant, replaced by a warmth that only Vash can bring. His heart flutters at the sight of his partner, his smile genuine and full of love.

The mention of his birthday brings a surprised laugh from him. Of course Vash would remember. He can't help but feel touched.

He takes the offered food, his eyes widening at the sight of the feast before him. The thought of how much it must have cost Vash briefly crosses his mind, but he shakes it off. Today, he decides, he's just going to enjoy this.

The food is devoured in no time, and once he's finished, he turns his attention back to Vash. The sight of his partner waiting for him brings a soft smile to his face, his heart swelling with affection.

Wolfwood's heart clenches at the sight of the gift, a sudden rush of emotions swirling within him. Surprise, touched by the thoughtfulness, a bit of guilt for doubting, and a warmth that he's come to associate with Vash.

He runs his thumb over the pendant, feeling the intricate details of the phoenix. A symbol of rebirth, of immortality, of enduring and rising from the ashes. It's far more sentimental than he'd ever admit out loud.

He turns to Vash, meeting those blue eyes that seemingly hold the universe within them.

❛ Jeez going full out, yer such a sap, needles. You shouldn't have...❜

He starts, but his voice trails off. The words are there, but they're stuck in his throat, choked by the emotions. He clears his throat, gives Vash a classic smirk, and tries again.

❛ It's pretty, I guess. I'll keep it. Thanks, needles.❜

He knows it's not enough—nothing could really express the gratitude he feels—but it'll have to do. He leans in, planting a firm kiss on Vash's forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back.

❛ I'm lucky to have someone like you.❜

It's cheesy and a little cliche, but it's true. He is lucky, and he's grateful, even if he can't always find the words to say it. He slips the chain over his head, the pendant resting against his chest. It feels right, feels like home.

Wolfwood pulls his lover close, burying his face in Vash's shoulder and inhaling his scent. Vash smells like home, too, and Wolfwood is content to just sit here, holding him close. He's content to just sit there, enjoying the moment and the company. For now, everything else can wait.

[wolveswithhats]

writing wip game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you or interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! 

The titles weren’t interesting so I vainly just posted some excerpts from a grab bag of more recent stuff. If I did everything it’d honestly probably go on for pages. I have a lot of unfinished stuff (pretty much...exclusively unfinished stuff dfjkdjfkg). Like a decade’s worth.

Tagged by @ackbang​. TY TY, MY DUDE. If you see this and you’re a writer, consider yourself tagged. Like for real. Only not tagging because I can’t remember who writes fanfic and who doesn’t.

Looooooong post below.

ling ling the goblin king (ling + lan fan, fma)

"lan fan did it," the prince says, and for a moment she feels a flare of anger and betrayal over his deception. 'it wasn't me, i didn't do this. i didn't kill anyone.' but the prince is bending at the waist, low enough that that his tail of hair brushes the dirt, and she realizes his lie is for her benefit. "thank you, m'lady. i owe you my life."

her mouth feels dry, face hot from exertion and the burning gaze of her older peers. "d-don't do that," she stutters, and she's not sure if she's referring to the lie or the bow.

"you dare give me orders?" but there's no heat in his voice, eyes crinkling with humor as he rises to his full height. she has no idea how he can look so amused with a hole in his shoulder, covered in the blood of a man he just killed. he grins lopsided, teeth crooked and painted red. the sight is altogether ghoulish.

limb choppy choppy (lan fan + greed + ling, fma, part of the revival au)

And Greed is stilling his struggles, catching his wandering hand in his own, running comforting circles with his thumb over Ling's blood-smeared cheek. “Hey, you little pissant, this is nothing, piddly kids table shit. Remember that time that one Central soldier tried to gut us? Right down the middle, like splitting a sausage. Goddamn crimson tide. I thought we'd never get the blood out of that coat. Now that was an injury.”

“T-they took my arm.”

“Yeah, and who needs one of those anyway? Gonna get you all sorted, get you one of those shiny metal ones, like your girl Lan Fan here. Guess the adjustment period takes a bit, a year or three, but bet we could expedite the process with proper motivation. I'm thinking sandwiches.”

He laughs, or something approaching as much, a soggy intake of air. She's struck with an unexpected wave of jealousy, that it's Greed that's offering reassurance and intimate personal jokes. A former homunculus, a former demon, a watery imitation of a man. Creature comforts from the creature. It should be me, she thinks, though she has nothing to offer beyond promises of protection, and even those feel like falsehoods after all that has happened here. Comforting platitudes are beyond her. What could I ever say to make this better?

lets get lit fam (greedling + ed, fma)

wobbly-legged, too uncoordinated to walk. almost stumbles into a line of trash cans at the mouth of the alley, but ed hooks his elbow and steers him away. "what the hell were you thinking? we're supposed to be keeping a low profile."

it's not an accusation he's fully equipped to grapple, not when he's still so bleary from sleep—and some other pleasant, dizzying sensation he thinks might be inebriation. he's never woken up drunk before. he's never been drunk before period. "what'd i do?"

"not you, ling. you would have gone straight for the food menu, not the liquor list. i'm talking to the dipshit you share a mental occupancy with. greed, what the hell?"

"was just a few drinks," ling slurs, but it's not his words, or his voice, and wow he's never been so aware of his own tongue before.

solid citizen (ling + greed, fma)

"geez, kid, you're certainly in a mood." so he was reading his thoughts, just fantastic. he look he gives him is withering, but greed pats his shoulder, almost condescendingly, pitying for sure.

"you're plenty fine, kid. i'll give you the ears, but you're top shelf in the looks department otherwise. if you were ugly, i'd tell you straight up. i don't lie. this here," he points to his own face. "is ugly. nothing like my old human face."

it's a bated response, he knows, and he doesn't really feel like playing, but greed did make a passing effort to make him feel better. "human face?"

he beams, dreamily, which is an impressively soft expression to pull off a mouthful of razors, and ling is suddenly reminded of the mythology of the man fawning over his own reflection. surely greed can't be that vain? "yeah i was a real stunner. fucking gorgeous." or maybe he could, apparently, what did ling know anyway.

wreckage (vincent, re-l, ergo proxy)

When she makes it back to the Rabbit, chest burning and damp with exertion, Vincent has already stripped Pino of her overalls and laid her across the table. Cooling fluids draining, frayed wiring spooling out of her gashed torso, sprawled like a tiny metal Tityos. Her left arm is snapped off and dangling at the elbow, her eyes glassy – glass, literal glass – staring at the ceiling. Broken doll parts. Just another disassembled AutoReiv, but this isn't like that at all, because Pino isn't just another AutoReiv. She's like Iggy--

It's almost too much for Re-l to take. Hand over her mouth, breathing sharp through her fingers in short repetitions. Tries to steel herself, to be calm and assertive, because one of them has to be, and Vincent-- Vincent was awkward and mousy and sensitive, Vincent who spilled his cereal and tripped over his own feet and housed an ancient being of unspeakable power in his lanky boy-frame. But his god-strength was of no use here, drowned under the weak, simpering, overpowering grief for something that was no more human than he was.

do NOT worry about meryl (vash + wolfwood + milly, trigun)

milly caught the hurt. naive, for sure, but shrewd. "oh, we'd never think that of you, mr. vash. it's just our job as representatives of the bernadelli insurance society to mitigate any and all damages from the humanoid typhoon, even the rumored ones."

wolfwood: "bernadelli employing a little insurance of their own, eh?"

milly nods. "if we had to pay out claims on every false report of mr. vash's wrongdoings, we'd go belly up in no time!"

caught up on the word 'wrongdoing', growls, "you make it sound like i'm doing any of this on purpose."

"it's just sensible. your name has a lot of weight, vash."

grumbles: "yeah, i'm aware."

"and that's why meryl was so insistent on following up on this one, even knowing it wasn't really you. so many people drag your name through the mud, and it just doesn't seem fair at all."

his name had long since been dragged, strangled and shot, left to rot under a flock of buzzards circling its carcass in the heat. There was no saving it. still, the intent was kind, if not bewildering. "you...were trying to protect my reputation?"

milly looks at him like he's insane for thinking otherwise. "well, yeah. we've come to think of you as a friend, mr. vash, and that's what friends do.”

baby scrub (locke + rachel, ff6)

offers his hand and a single word: "lock."

her faces scrunches distastefully at his uncouth greeting, but she's not sure what else she was expecting from a dirty street boy. "lock?"

"with an e," he adds, as if that clarifies anything.

"that can't be real. you just made that up."

"all names are made up," huffs locke-with-an-e, looking impatient with her slow uptake on this odd world of his. "and i never said it was real, but it's all you're going to get."

spike bday (spike + dawn, btvs)

“if I show you something, you need to promise not to say anything. not to the watcher, or your sister. not to anyone, right?”

even through her tears, she nods, curious. spike's always good for skirting just outside the limits of good taste.

“I'm serious. spool your intestines out your nose, string 'em up like christmas garland. I mean it.”

“colorful threats of bodily dismemberment, I get it.”

hands her a faded yellow tintype. a young man, twenty-five or thirty maybe, a riot of disheveled curls, glasses, frumpy suit. not an unattractive man, but a timid one, uncertainty written into the slanted bow of his shoulders. he had the weedy air of someone who spent a lot of time duct taped to flag poles, or whatever the victorian equivalent would be. did it count as a twirly if you were dunked into a chamber pot?

a rebellious counterpoint in wrinkled tweed to the hard, starched lines of victorian decorum – interesting, but not very relevant. and a little disappointing, if she was being totally honest. spike's anecdotes usually had more flash and gore. “I don't get it.”

he's exasperated, fingers twitching like he's ready to snatch it away, and he tucks his hands under his arms in an awkward self hug. she takes in the hard set of his jaw and the...flush of his cheeks? god, she didn't even know vampires could blush. it had to take some serious breaking of undead physiology to ping that level of embarrassment, and something beyond that even to flap the unflappable spike. he hisses impatiently. “would you just—look at the face.”

and she does, tilting the little photo to and fro in the dim of the crypt. unassuming man-hermione with hair that cannot be tamed. sharp cheekbones and dark heavy brows under the rims of his glasses and suddenly she sees it—him—the angular planes of his face coming into sharp relief, like a camera finding its focus. “oh. oh my god! this is you. holy crap, spike. you look....”

“normal,” he finishes for her, and something in her stomach swoops and clenches, stones in a pond. “mundane.”

“i was going to say like a megawatt dorklord, but we can use your word instead.” she wipes her nose on the back of her hand. he snorts, amused and embarrassed.  

“i was a poet.”

she tried to envision anything beyond smutty limericks carved onto the wall of a bathroom stall.

“were you ever published?”

“i was a shitty poet,” he amends, grimacing.

boston au (spike + dawn, btvs)

bodily kicking a dumpster, sending it careening into the street with a rusty scream of metal. a hydrant follows suit, ripped from the sidewalk. caps off his tantrum with a boot to the side of Angel's GTX, but even the size-10 crater marring the passenger door of the angelmobile did little to ease his frustration.

“better?” dawn asks, when he drops bodily into the driver's seat with an aching sigh, anger dissipating. she looks so tiny and forlorn, knees drawn to her chest, picking at a cigarette burn in the upholstery. two years ago she'd have been a ripe treat, poor little lost lamb. now the idea twists his gut, her sorrow palpable, proprietary, under his skin and in his veins.

“no,” he grunts, staring out impassively at the aftermath of his outburst. water spurting from the sidewalk, skip spilling out into the road. half a dozen cars along the block chirping in a chorus of wailing alarms. and angel in the foyer, something vaguely resembling pity etched across his massive cavebrow. fucking wanker.

...

“we go back to sunnydale then. try again. badger the scoobies until they agree to help. we'll figure this out.”

“i don't want to.” quietly. barely a whisper.

“to figure it out?”

“to go back.”

“dawn...”

“there's nothing there. they're not going to help because i'm nothing. it's an ongoing memorial to my own non-existence. can we not go back? can we just keep driving?”

“where?”

“I don't care. away.”

thinks about leaving sunnydale. thinks about what he's leaving behind. shitty memories, regrets, lost love. he has a small collection of personal effects; records, first edition books, family heirlooms that cannot be replaced, a hundred years of mementos of his whirlwind romance with dru. wonders if he can ring up clem, ask him to send a care package once they get to wherever they're going. looks at dawn in her clearance-rack pajamas, realizes she has lost everything. she has no belongings, no family, no remnants left as evidence she even had a family. nothing but him and her, here, in this moment.

it's just stuff. it's surprisingly easy to let go.

he drives.

taco hell  (spike + dawn, btvs, part of the boston / unravel au)

Right where her window was supposed to be, a swirling doorway of light ringed in licking green flame, spilling out into....a fast food restaurant?

"I think it's Taco Bell," Dawn said, pinching a tissue to her--aw hell--bleeding finger. He took inventory of the spell books around her, the scrying bowl, and the ashy pentagram burnt into 70s shag weave of her bedroom carpet. So much for their security deposit.

"You opened a hell dimension to Taco Bell?"

She craned her head to squint at the pimply teenager manning the register, oblivious to his cross-dimension spectators. "I think it's just a regular Taco Bell. I don't see any dragons or shrimp people or anything."

"Not all alternate universes have shrimp people."

"I know that. You know, it actually looks like the one downtown, across from the KFC? On Kellner? Unless the Kellner Street Taco Bell is a Taco Hell. I've been reading up about liminal spaces, where the fabric between realities is weakened. Maybe it's a hot spot, and all the employees are actually like, octopus centaurs. How would we know? Not like I'm going to crawl over the counter to check, you know?"

"Well, now's your chance to ask Squiddly Diddly here what he's got going on downstairs." Slack-jawed employee finally cottoned on to the door to another universe in the restaurant lobby. Dawn awkwardly waves. Poc Ock waves back, bewildered, before the portal collapses in on itself in a burst of white light.

"It stopped bleeding." she holds up her finger.

-- 

(I don’t think anyone would, but as a precaution: please don’t reblog these to the Herald. They’re sloppy and incomplete and mixed in with a bunch of other fandoms so it’d just be really weird. THANK)