#vashwood

[inkandpainter]

[kurukufute]

Day 4: Reencarnación Au

[ryanthel0ser]

Vashwood Week Day 5: Music

Vash stared at the horizon, searching for any movement besides the waves of heat amidst the orange and reds of the sunset. Nothing. No trace of that motorcycle. No trace of Livio. He was supposed to be back by this point, food and drinkable water now past too low for comfort. He'd already given up his portions so the kids could eat, he'd be fine without them. It upset Wolfwood, but he kept quiet cause he'd already done the same. Vash softly smiled to himself. He took a deep breath, trying to relax a bit as the sounds of the radio echoed down from the orphanage to where he sat on the cliff. Ms. Melanie had put it on as a way to distract the kids, keep them smiling as things were dwindling. He was surely appreciating it, closing his eyes as a slight breeze made the strands of hair sway a bit. "Got any room?" He looked up to see Wolfwood standing there, his smile growing as he felt an ease in his chest. Wolfwood sat down next to him, Vash's eyes lingering on the way the sunset was framing his silhouette. "Nothing yet?" "No," he looked back at the horizon, "I'm beginning to worry something happened." "Livio's gonna be fine, he's tough like me." "Yeah but them," he looked back towards the orphanage, an uneasy air settling as they heard the slight murmurs of kids. "We've got enough for two or three more days. If he's a no show, I'll go over to the next town and see if there's anything there." Vash's head turned to him quickly, "you can't leave." "You can't drive Needle Noggin, and I can't leave if the kids are alone." Vash felt a catch in his throat as a guilt made him look away, right. That was selfish of me, what was I thinking. "How long would that take?" Wolfwood sighed, "longer than I'd like." The silence returned, the only sounds being the music and the slight clinks of Vash's left hand as he opened and closed it. The next song began, Vash perking up at the light guitar arrangement.

Wolfwood raised a brow, "you know this one?" Vash smiled, "yeah, it's one of my favorites." "Of course it is," he smirked, "old man." Vash turned to him, "it's a good song!" "Yeah, that old people like." He groaned, "don't remind me." He began to tap his finger along to the beat as the singer began. Every second of the song was practically etched into his brain at this point, a hum that he couldn't help coming from him as the familiar story of love began to be sung. As each word came to mind, his heart began to beat in a way it hadn't before for this song. "So, you're big into love songs like this?" Vash looked over at Wolfwood, his heart beating harder under the soft gaze behind the sunglasses. "Um, no, I just enjoy the sound usually." Wolfwood nodded, looking to the side as Vash's ears felt warm. It was true, usually it was less the subject of the song and more the sound that got him. This time though, as the singer described their encounter, his mind began to drift to the man beside him. The words never had this weight before. He took a deep breath, his eyes tracing the horizon before the slight touch of fingertips made his heart lurch so hard he thought he'd choke. He looked over at Wolfwood who was still staring off to the side, a light trail of smoke showing he'd lit another cigarette. And a slight pink hue in his ears as his fingertips slightly slid against Vash's. A smile spread across his face as he tried not to let out a laugh at their collective nervousness despite the past few nights of discreet meetings outside the orphanage. His fingers slid forward, quickly turning Wolfwood's hand over so he could interlock them. The motion made him turn to look at Vash wide eyed, the pink deepening in his ears and spreading to his cheeks. His own face felt warm as well, the warmth in his chest on the verge of making it burst. A smile began to pull at Wolfwood's lips as he quickly glanced at Vash's own, the slight dimple he'd grown oh so familiar with making him swoon again. The music began to swell as he moved closer, Wolfwood growing more and more entranced and sending Vash's heart soaring. He took the cigarette from his mouth holding it between his prosthetic fingers as their lips met. Somehow, every kiss was better than the last. The tenderness Wolfwood had, the slight tickle of his breath, the way their noses brushed against each other, that overwhelming wave of emotion that came over him at just how alive he was. It was addicting. He pulled him in closer by the waist as Wolfwood's hand ran through his undercut, chills going across his skin at the sensation, making him kiss deeper. If only they could stay here longer, if only Livio… The sounds of the kids above them caught their attention as they pulled away, a brick of guilt settling in Vash's heart at the thought that briefly flashed through his mind. Wolfwood looked up at the orphanage, "almost forgot, if one of them steps out the secret is out." He laughed a bit, stopping as Vash let go and looked away. He felt that weight on his shoulders again as he looked back at the horizon, those selfish thoughts almost mocking him as his very identity loomed over. Ms. Melanie began to call for dinner, the reminder of the situation making that brick sink deeper and deeper within him. "Blondie?" The sudden, gentle touch of Wolfwood's hand against his cheek pulled him from his thoughts, his heart melting at his gaze, "how about later, huh?" Somehow, he knew Wolfwood could tell what he was thinking, that intense warmth permeating in his heart at him all over again. He smiled weakly back at him, leaning into the touch to keep away the cry in his heart, "right. Later."

[blessedintervals]

vashwood week day four tied up prompt!!

[graham--folger]

when you break | vashwood

explicit | 2.8k words

After a frighteningly close call, Vash and Wolfwood argue, and it all spirals from there.

written for day 4 of @vashwoodweek: tied up/trapped

read on ao3

[wingroad]

FIC: sing me to sleep

Third fic for @vashwoodweek day 4 Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

[slamncram]

Calling Card | Vashwood

1.7k Words | Rated: T

_____

The jury's out on whether or not it's good practice to answer calls from unknown numbers in the middle of the night. It's not something Nicholas D. Wolfwood makes a habit of, himself. Just this once, though, it may be worth every second of lost sleep.

_____

The second of my snack sized fics for @vashwoodweek 2026! This is for the Day 4 prompt "Reincarnation AU".

also on ao3

It was one thing to be woken up by his alarm.

It was another entirely to be woken up by the sound of his ringtone going off, insistently. It wasn't something that Nicholas D. Wolfwood usually heard, because he usually didn't have sound on. Only at night, and just in case something happened to his brother and he needed him. That had never happened.

Until now, Nicholas thought, snatching up his phone from where it was perched, merrily buzzing its way towards the edge of his nightstand with every note of the ringtone. He didn't even know what that was, some factory default setting? Either way, when he yanked the phone towards himself, the charging cable popping out, he expected to see Livio's name and photo.

Instead, he saw UNKNOWN NUMBER.

Of course.

The one time his phone went off at night, and it wasn't anything that was actually worth dragging him out of a dead sleep. No, it was some scam call, probably someone about to tell him that he'd dodged his tax payments for too long, or maybe that an unauthorized purchase had been made on his credit card to the tune of three grand. Even better, maybe that viruses had been detected on the computer he didn't even own. That one was always fun.

As Nicholas glared at the screen, imagining what he might say if that was what was waiting for him on the other end of the line, it went dark, before fading into his lock screen, a little missed call notification appearing.

Waiting another few breaths, just to see if it rang again, Nicholas dropped the phone, face down, before doing the same with himself, pressing his face into his pillow.

He needed to get back to sleep.

No sooner had he thought that then, again, the phone went off, the vibration of the ring rumbling through the mattress next to his hand.

Snatching it up, Nicholas swiped the call button and put the phone up to his ear.

"What?"

"Oh. Oh, you picked up."

That… Was not what Nicholas had been expecting to hear.

"Sorry, who is this?" he asked, shifting into a sitting position. The light from the street was coming through the slats in his window blinds, drawing lines across his bedsheets as he stared at the opposite wall. On the other end of the line, he could hear what sounded like traffic whizzing by at high speeds, and a sharp, shaky breath.

"Does the name Vash mean anything to you?"

The way that was worded should have made Nicholas leery. No one called, didn't introduce themselves, and then went on asking if certain things meant anything to the person they were calling. It might not have been a scam call, exactly, but it could have been a trap. Something meant to get him to give over personal information. Read out his credit card number. Recite his social security. Start giving away the answers to all those little questions the bank made you set up to prove that you really were you.

If that had been the goal, asking if the name Livio had meant something to him might've worked better. Or Melanie. Not some name he'd never even heard.

Except for the fact that when that name came down the line, quiet and a little shaky, something in Nicholas' stomach twisted. His chest felt tight, his pulse picking up unexpectedly.

Did it?

"Who. Is. This?"

"I…"

Silence, except for the sounds of what had to be a highway. Breathing. The shuffle of the receiver from one hand to another.

"You need to start talking, or I'm hanging up."

"Don't hang up!"

He should have.

He really should have.

Instead, though, Nicholas did what the caller asked of him. Sitting up, he reached over to flick on the lamp at his bedside, staring hard at the opposite wall when he spoke.

"You've got sixty seconds to convince me."

"Okay." Another shaky, careful inhale of breath, and Nicholas found himself pressing the phone harder against his ear. Listening as the caller breathed out again, the soft sound of lips being wet before he spoke again. "I'm Vash."

"I sort of figured."

There was a soft laugh before, "of course you did. You were always sharp, I knew you'd put that together."

Those words prodded at something in the back of his mind, and for a second, Nicholas felt like he was being pushed. Like something in his past was trying to rise up and get his attention by shoving him forward off a mental brink.

It didn't happen, but the feeling lingered.

Like a threat.

"So, why are you calling me in the middle of the night, Vash?"

"God," Vash said, quietly, and if Nicholas wasn't being totally off base, he would have thought he sounded like he might cry. There was another sound, a kind of muffled hum that sounded like a plea for being given a moment.

The sixty seconds had already passed. Nicholas wasn't hanging up.

"Do you believe in past lives?"

Of all the things that Nicholas has expected someone to ask him when they called him up in the middle of the night, that wasn't one of them. Asking if he had a way to get to a hospital, asking if he was all right taking a phone call from someone in prison, all right. It wouldn't have been ideal, far from it, but those were the sorts of questions he thought he'd be asked when he was woken from a deep sleep - the first in days, mind - by an unknown caller.

Not whether or not he believed in past lives.

Maybe the more jarring thing was, though he'd not said it out loud since he was a kid, Nicholas did. In one way or another, at least.

It had been around the time that Livio was brought to the orphanage. He'd been small, quiet, a real crybaby, not joining in with the other kids because he was, clearly, still dealing with trauma from what had happened to his parents.

Nicholas understood that, now. The adults caring for them did their best, but with so many orphans, there was only so much time to go around. Livio had been left to his own devices when he wasn't in a counselling session.

And it was his hiding away in a corner of the yard to cry that had drawn Nicholas' attention. Made him feel like someone needed to try and be Livio's friend, because he clearly needed one.

That, and, like Nicholas has blurted out, easy as you please, weeks later, he'd felt like he knew Livio. Like they were supposed to be brothers or something.

So, yeah.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood may not have said it out loud. He might not have broadcast it. But, like all kinds of other quiet beliefs people could harbour away, he did believe in past lives.

"Sure," Nicholas answered, reaching for the pack of his smokes sitting on the nightstand. He perched one between his lips, raising his lighter to the end while he spoke around it. "Why not? You?"

Instead of answering that question, Vash asked, "you're smoking?"

Pausing, Nicholas took the cigarette from his lips. When he spoke, smoke curled up from the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. Problem?"

"Not at all. That's just like you."

What was this guy's deal?

"If you're about to tell me that we were family in a past life —"

"—not exactly family," Vash cut in, and then, before Nicholas could ask 'then what?' he barrelled on. For someone who had seemed so careful and frugal with their words before, now he was going a mile a minute.

"But like that. We met on a bus. You were wandering in the desert, and I saw you. We were friends after that. Well, maybe after the shooting competition. You remember that? You signed me up without my permission. So I did it back." Vash laughed, "and we ended up facing off. After that, we ran into each other now and again. You… found me. When I needed someone the most. Reminded me who I was."

"Stop."

Nicholas hadn't expected the word to come out of his mouth, but it had slipped before he could stop it.

Memories were playing out. His eyes were open, staring at his bedroom wall, but he wasn't seeing it.

He was seeing endless sand, instead. Huge bulbs with otherworldly beings in them. A cross. A destroyed spaceship in the sky. A red coat.

The humanoid typhoon.

"Wolfwood…" Vash coaxed. "Give it a second. You do remember, don’t you?"

Stone houses cut into cliff sides. Gigantic monsters, worms, and the cross was a gun. His gun.

Full of mercy.

"I lost you."

A small town. A tall, slender man who, even in this memory that was his and still not his, made him feel ill to remember. Blood on the floor of the chapel.

The Stampede.

"I thought I might never find you again. You weren't in my last life. Not that I found."

Nicholas' cigarette had burned dangerously, a finger of ash dangling like a threat from the end. Without ceremony, he stubbed the whole thing out in the ashtray before he threw back the sheets.

"Where are you?"

"I, um. There's a gas station, out on the highway. It has a pay phone. Can you believe that? If I got it wrong, though, I didn't want to be tracked by my phone…"

"North or south?" Standing up, Nicholas trapped his phone between his ear and his shoulder, pulling on the same pants he'd been wearing earlier.

"Uh…" Vash paused, and the sound of movement and shuffling feet came through the receiver. Suddenly the sounds of traffic made sense. His instinct had been right.

"South."

"I'm coming to find you, Vash." It wasn't a statement that left itself open to discussion. He was remembering, now. Another whole life by this man's side. Something he'd wanted to spend more time on.

This was their chance for that. It had to be.

"I remember you. Needle-noggin."

"Okay," Vash answered, and Nicholas could hear the smile in his voice. He could see it in his mind. "I'll be waiting."

[ryanthel0ser]

Vashwood Week Day 4: Hurt/Comfort

He sucked the air through his teeth as he pulled himself up against the sleeping Tomas, his eyes squeezed shut from the sharp pains throughout his body. Vash had just barely made it out of this town with his life, they were a tough group of folks. Bandits struggle to even get out the door with goods before getting pummeled, a rare bit of good. For Vash, it had meant a rough goodbye. He slipped his jacket off slowly, groaning from the pain in his left shoulder. How am I gonna get this shirt off now? He deeply breathed to steady himself. He ran out of extras three bullets ago so no option to cut the thing off. He'd just have to bear it. His head was still spinning a bit from the jacket, resting it against the back of the Tomas as he looked up at the stars with one eye. He gently ran his fingertips along the other swollen one, a slight ache beneath them. That kid had quite the swing, aha. Imagine what it would've been like if they had actually gotten to play that game of ball like he promised? That familiar ache began to work his way through his chest as it always did. A good enough distraction from the various growing bruises along his body. He began taking out his bandages and supplies, he had to work fast before he'd pass out from the pain after the shirt was off. "Get the hell out!" "You bastard!" "It's all your fault!" That's right. It was. It always is. The bar that girl had been saving up for getting destroyed, that family's home being leveled, that kid's leg getting messed up, it was all him. Always him. He should have never been there. Or anywhere. Now he couldn't tell whether he wanted to feel the sharp pain in his shoulder or the threat of his chest caving in. He took a deep breath, lifting the hem of his shirt as he clenched his jaw. As his arms raised, it was as if someone was digging their fingers into the wound in his shoulder, the pain making cold sweat begin to run down his face. He threw the shirt to the side, grabbing the equipment with his right arm quickly and pushing through the growing sharp pains and dizziness as he dug the bullet out, tossing it to the side and quickly putting pressure on it with gauze. As he wrapped his shoulder, head spinning, he saw the itinerary of pain he'd have to push through tomorrow, various areas of red and purple along his torso. Even a couple of cuts. He finished, letting out a deep exhale as he laid down on the still warm sand, the memory of a warm bed pushing through his mind. The pain in his shoulder still wasn't enough. He curled up pressing against the bruises as he felt his mind begin to slip quickly. I'm sorry everyone.

~

"I'm fine." "You know I don't listen to that anymore." Vash chuckled, "it's just a cut." Wolfwood shot him a glare as he held his finger in place, wiping off the area with a warm washcloth, "it's just a cut until you get something in it and next thing you know you're walking around with a lovely infection." "I haven't gotten one before." "Bullshit." It had happened during dinner prep, just a cut from a knife that missed, nothing big. Yet the moment Wolfwood saw it right before they were going to bed, he started getting on Vash about it. At that point he'd completely forgotten about it himself. He'd had plenty of cuts before, deep and shallow, they never needed a bandage in the end. It would've been a waste. "There," Wolfwood finished putting the bandage on, looking back at Vash with his brow furrowed, "don't do that again." "So no kiss to make it better?" Wolfwood picked Vash's hand up, gently kissing where the bandage was. His face went red hot as his stomach flipped. Wolfwood laughed, "you asked." Vash covered his face, "I was joking." His hands were removed as Wolfwood kissed his cheek with a smile before pulling him down into the bed. He let out a large yawn, "man I'm tired." He pulled Vash close against himself with one arm as the other grabbed the sheets, "night Blondie." He softly smiled, nuzzling himself against Wolfwood's heartbeat as he stared at the bandage on his finger, that familiar warmth spreading through his chest. "Goodnight Wolfwood." As it always did.