#engineer x gn reader

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Saw your post about TF2 being added to your list so here I am 🙏 I would like the one and only bed sharing trope with gender neutral reader, with heavy (my bbg) sniper, engie, and scout 💚 thank you ❗

Intertwined, sewn together.

Heavy/Sniper/Engineer/Scout x Gender Neutral! Reader separate romantic headcanons Summary: The hotel you were staying at with the mercs accidentally gave you a one bed hotel room. Warnings: probably OOC :( Word count: 1.1k ⋆｡°•☁︎

Heavy:

He’s very calm when it comes to sharing a bed since he’s done so with his family and you will be his lover someday, so he’s ready to get used to sharing a bed with you.

Heavy isn’t nervous about it since he thinks of it as simple and just job related but can’t deny the fact, he’s a little smug about spending sleeping time in the same bed.

By far easiest to sleep in the same bed with but he’s a furnace and huge. He’ll warm the bed like it’s electrical and keep you close, whether that be because of you or him wanting to be near or his size. It has got to do with living in the cold Russian mountains his entire life, he’s so used to the cold he never realizes how much heat he radiates.

You better hope the bed is big, Sasha’s going to sleep on the bed too, like a baby.

��Sasha will sleep in bed too, no changes from home.”

Heavy is a quiet and deep sleeper, more likely will not notice when you (eventually) fall off the bed from his size and Sasha. The harsh snow and windstorms have made him a deep sleeper.

He’s not the type to be insanely cuddly while asleep since he likes personal space. It’s an effect of growing up in a lonely Russian mountain and more likely having to share rooms/beds with his sisters. He needs personal space and likes it. But he likes you too, so you can be an exception.

If it’s exceptionally cold, he’ll (sadly) move Sasha to let you sleep against him for extra warmth, it’s not like the hotel is of good quality so it’s likely to happen. Heavy has a good time when that happens since he likes knowing you’re doing it on your own, not being forced by him and it gives him a reason to think you like him more.

Sniper:

He’ll act like it’s not a big deal when you’re given a room with only one bed, and it’s true, he doesn’t view it as a big deal. He’s sharing a bed with you. You! It’s when it reaches a basic time to go to bed does it sink in.

He probably has to be forced to sleep in a bed since he’s grown so used to sleeping in chairs for his job, having to be up quickly has its disadvantages. His back hurts from laying horizontally sometimes since he’s so accustomed to stools.

It’s not a particularly great experience for him or you sleeping in the same bed, especially since he views you as more than a friend. Sniper will be so stiff when lying next to you, it's insane, sheet metal build the entire night.

He wakes up so many times in the night to go to the bathroom, it’s insane. You have to be a deep ass sleeper to not wake from it every twenty minutes (at least).

While he’s stiff lying next to you from anxiety, he’ll quietly admire you. It’ll just be looking over your sleeping face. He’s a sniper of all things, he’s good with detail and he’ll find every little thing about you. The way your eyelashes tilt, the softness of your lips, and the basic movements and sounds you make while you sleep.

If you’re the cuddly type while you sleep, he’ll be ten times stiffer and won’t know what to do but will just get used to it throughout the night. Sniper won’t try wrapping his arms around you until he feels too tired to care. But after that he’ll hold you real tightly.

Engineer:

Honestly, one of the easier to be around when sleeping in the same bed, he’s very vocal about wanting your comfort, not just because it’s a basic thing to do, but because he genuinely wants you to be comfortable. He likes you and doesn’t want you running off because you possibly find him creepy.

Engineer’s still got that southern charm when it comes to this specific event since he is very intent on your willingness to do anything beyond platonic. If you suggest sleeping on the floor, he’ll encourage sleeping in the same bed.

“It’s just a bed, it’s not like anything more will happen anyway. It’s better anyway for your back.”

He is so similar to Sniper since he rarely gets to his bed to sleep, he’ll just end up sleeping somewhere random in his shop, which is why he has extra blankets in there. But now, he’s more inclined to be in bed.

He sleeps like a dad, snoring and stuff, possibly CPAP worthy but leave that to Medic to figure out. He doesn’t move too much though, just occasionally shifting in his sleep but it’s comfortable enough.

He’s very soft and you can accidentally move to cuddle him. Engineer would wake up suddenly in the night, looking over at you instinctively to see if you’re alright and would find you pressed into his side. He’d smile about it, in a smug kind of way but genuine happiness since you feel comfortable doing such a thing with him.

Scout:

When you got to the hotel and found out there was a mistake and you needed to share a bed, he was so excited. He’s been showing off so much for you.

He’s the most prominent in acting like sharing a bed isn’t eating him alive. Scout’s insanely confident but it’s not something he’s done with someone he’s liked before. He’s beyond giddy to be fair.

It wouldn’t be too surprising if he’s used to sleeping in a bed with other people, not because he gets play ever, but because he’s used to sharing beds with his siblings. He knows how squished together he needs to be to not be swung at for being too close to someone while sleeping.

“Don’t worry, there will be enough room on the bed for you even with me and my huge muscles.”

Just before you’re ready to go to bed, he’ll go into the hotel room's bathroom and hype himself up. Ok, someone hot is in his bed, which means good stuff because you’re hot and in the same bed as him!

At the same time, he’s sweating buckets. Scout is nervous because he’s asked if you’d ever want to sleep in the same bed as him and now it’s happening! You’re so close and your skin seems so soft, and you smell so nice and you’re so nice!

He kicks in his sleep, aggressively too. He’s like a dog that runs in its dream and does it physically too.

Scout will hold your hand when he randomly wakes in the middle of the night, it’s the farthest he’ll go because he would want you conscious when he gives you kisses. He wants you to remember how awesome a kiss would be from him!

⋆｡°•☁︎

Insanely OOC but first TF2 request!! Thank you so much for requesting!!

My tf2 masterlist

[gofishygo]

everyone always talks about ‘medic reader’ this and ‘teammate reader’ that but what abt weapons engineer/mechanic reader ?

just a silly little fella who helps out the 141 with their weapons when they go out of whack, who works very closely with the team to coordinate certain weapons for specific missions .

they’d probably have a really close bond with soap , both having fun with testing demolitions together . who’s able to add in ideas and carry conversations with you when you ramble on about weapons . johnny pulls you close to him when they get startled from the loud noise of an explosion , laughing a little at how they excuse their sudden vulnerability with ‘not expecting it to be that loud’.

price who seeks them out when he’s having issues with his cm901, having to endure your age-long lectures about not accidentally slamming the barrel to hard. he subconsciously makes sure the brush his hand over yours when he finally retrieves his now-fixed weapon.

yeah nyways weapon mech! reader has my heart

[th3tism]

Hi :)

Could you maybe add Soldier and Engineer to the dreams post? :)

Oh you're a fucking freak aren't you??????? (/J obviously bc I am too. Also thank you for the ask)

Soldier and engi wet dreams

||obvious NSFW warning||

Soldier:

There you were

Being integrated by him

He was violent, and cruel, and he wasn't gonna take any lies

But, then you started begging

And that really turned him on

You said something about doing anything to get out

Cut to you praising and sucking him off with your hands and feet tied

Maybe if he's lucky he'll start dreaming about raw dogging you

Engineer:

He gently lays you down

Reassuring that he won't hurt you

That he'll be as gentle as possible

He then pulls you a bit closer as he lines himself up with your entrance

As he thrusts into you, you let out a soft moan

He asks if he can move, and you nod

So he continues

Every thrust and movement causes you to moan and whimper out his name like a prayer

He speeds up just a bit, gently grabbing your waist for support

And that's where he usually wakes up

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

Hello!

Can I request yandere engineer (after a long chase/ escape attempt) taking his darling s/o for a ride.

*wink wink ;)*

Sure thing!

GO! Yandere Engineer x GN reader almost smut

CW: Curisng, smut, non con, dismemberment, detailed descriptions of gore, obsession, condescention, gaslighting, car "accidents", improper use of power tools, imminent sex Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: Theres no PNV, or PNA, rather the "smut" occurs with the afforementioned power tools. Please let me know if you want me to make a less violent version. Also its kind of implied Dell is a robot... soyeah

@virginstoner666 (tagging bc you might like it)

The moment their feet hit the sandy ground beneath them the alarms blared. Its moments in fact like these, where scientists would marvel at the capabilities of the human form. To run injured across dangerous, unyielding terrain to escape much bigger adversaires. The moments when humans as a species , fueled by their adrenaline, only make it so far, so fast, because they were fed with their natural chemical superpower.

Dr. Conagher didnt see it that way as he hauled ass in his busted bright red '64 Chevvy. He could hear buzzing in his ears the more irritated he got. Lizards wheezed about eerily in the pitch black desert, alerting the man of just where to look.

Pissed wasn't nearly a strong enough word for the emotion Dell felt as he picked up to a speed his poor truck shouldn't have been running at in such a harsh climate. No...just that morning he'd been the living definition of kind when they first tried to leave, naked body half alive crawling weakly a foot away from their quarters. He granted them the mercy then of not ripping their fleshy ears of their head when he dragged them back sobbing.

They acted like he beat them or something... he did of course, but it wasn't anything undeserved.

Claiming you don't love your spouse is a sin with a capital SIN after all, Dell only served as device to put them in their place. Oh, and it did hurt the engineers cold steam-powered heart, but he couldn't think of a better treatment for the unfaithful.

And still they ran.

The backs of his bottom teeth ground the plaque on his upper incisors as his jaw set, mechanical hand holding the wheel steady as his lights glinted harsh off the broken electric collar on their neck. He was just happy this was close to over as he spun the wheel, sending his truck into a circle of dust, and throwing the car into reverse.

A solid noise followed by a wavering yelp of pain told Dell he accomplished exactly what he wanted to. With a sneer his foot held down the clutch as he roughly shoved the shift into park. The head of his freshly sharpened axe broke the soft, sandy rode as he trudged boredly over to the lump sobbing by his rear tire. "Now sugar, what in gods name are you doin all the way the hell out here?" The night air cracked like a whip in the heavens as the drizzling rain covered the light footprints... all the effort they'd made to get this far. They tried to curl up, to shield themselves from the almost cocky blur of the yellow flashlight Dell had in his left; but with two broken ribs the action was excruciating. They tensed as Dell sneered and took the tip of his steel toed boots up to their tear stricken cheeks. "Much safer inside aint it? And I warned you... didn't I?" He asked, kneeling down above their wheezing display, a look of cruel pity shadowed across his boxy face. "Now you know what Ive said about the world baby, and you know I hate hurtin you... but what have i said before? I said repeatedly, 'now honey you're not gonna like what I do to you if you keep trynna leave.' And you STILL disobeyed me." The grip on their chin bruised abit as he tried to still himself from hurting them. Only a sigh escaped his lips as he stood again, leaning back steadied by the axe held behind his leg.

"Now baby I really dont want to do this--" "Dell please we can ta-"

"No no no. We cant talk! Clearly, if talkin worked youd be back at home pleasin me, stayin safe like youre sposed to! No, talkin aint working, clearly, so Im trying am more holistic approach." He groweled darkly as he rolled his shoulders. "Dell, baby no! Please- it wont- its not going to-" "I know sugar, i'll make sure it doesnt happen again."

Rain poured down harder now as Dell dramatically crossed himself, cap falling to the ground as his leg took a step back to swing.

With a sharp THWACK, the axes blade tore through the flesh and muscle as blood rose back as high as Dells tense shoulders before he went to take another swing. Harsher this time... the pain registers, and the love of Dells life screamed with the pained wails of an injured bird. The sounds only mocked them as they echoed throughout the deep emptiness of the desert. Again the axe came down.

Again the bone broke, oozing all kinds of metallic fluid that mingled with the blood in the shredded muscle, fat tissue catching the blades nicks as Dell had to jostle it out of the pebbly femur he'd decimated. Connective tissue snapped back like tight packaging tape against the warm steel as Dell dropped to his knees. He held his love by the shoulders, tears against their neck as they tried with tired, nerve wracked muscles to writhe and fight their way away.

"No no baby shh,shh its okay, Ive got you..." he looked into their eyes earnestly, cupping a side of their neck in worry as the other held their cheek. He pulled their head down to kiss, holding them against his soft, hairy chest as his gloved hand stroked their head, the other slipping behind to rub their back. "Shh, dont worry Dells got you... you aint gotta cry! It aint that bad, its like pulling teeth with a door yeah?" They shook their heard through tears, refusing to look into his grey eyes as he pulled them back and nodded. "Yeah thats right... it only ever stings a bit, it'll be okay baby, shh."

The metal fingers of one arm soon trailed down their side as he sighed and tried to make right what hed just done.

"What can I do to make it better my love? You want me to love on you a bit?" He asked, chuckling as if what he said was charming."Want me to do it like we did when we first met?"

Scruff scratched their neck as they tried to lean away from his kisses, hands stabilizing theirs as he tried his damndest to make the situation less serious. They shook their head as his skilled mouth left damp hickies across their skin, their squirming drawing ants and dirt into their severed leg. "Hold still sugar I cant... keep you up if you're squirming."

Just the push of the bright yellow button on his wrist sent them into hysterics as they quietly begged him not to do anything, to just take them home. He cooed, chuckling lightly as his drill of arm quickly ripped hole in their pants... well... his pants. But the details werent important, and with their new little injury they could spend their recovery sewing that right back up.

Their little pleas got louder as Dell searched his pockets for the 'right bit'.

"Now baby- baby youve got to stop worryin, its...3:am and we're in the dead centre of the desert, who in their right minds would be out right now. Especially at a time like this?" He asked cheekily, treating all of their words like jokes as he undid the large phillips head with a strange industrial steel bolt shaped bit. He only scratched his head. "Aint much of anything safer I have right now sug'." "Then stop!" "Oh please-" he scoffed playfully as he rolled his metal arm around a 'yada yada' motion, "like youve not done more dangerous with me before. Just sit back and enjoy it."

[writtengalaxies]

Nap Time

Characters: Head Engineer Mark, GN!Reader as Captain

Word Count: 666

Spicy Rating: Some purposeful sleep deprivation.

"Looks like you could use this. Cute bedhead there, Captain."

Your head engineer handed you a mug full of more coffee, which you took with a smile. Dawn may have still been artificially created up here in space, but without fail, he was up, ready to do all the work that was going to come his way. Mark's teasing little flirts were always a welcome part of your mornings.

You took a long sip off the steaming mug, sighing as the warmth helped you wake up just a little more. The caffeine really wasn't helping any more, but habits meant you weren't really paying attention to what you were saying as you ran your hand through your hair again, making it stand up at all angles.

"Is it really bed hair if I didn't make it to bed?"

"Wh--Captain." 

"Uh. ...Shit." Mark had gotten that glint in his eye, the one that meant you were in trouble. You sighed, took a deep swig of your coffee, and set it down. You had to defend your choice to the man who looked ready to chide you like you normally did to him. "Look, I've just...it's been a long week and either I just toss and turn all night, or I have really bad nightmares so I just...decided to...stop. I've been doing a lot of work, hoping I could just...do an exhaustion sleep instead. It hasn't really worked, though."

He squinted, mouth twisting into a frown. "How long has it been since you last slept?"

"Not that long! Really! Like...maybe...three days?"

"Three--Nope." Mark didn't let you say anything else as you suddenly found yourself scooped up into his arms. You were pretty strong yourself, but with the sleep deprivation you had, you weren't really in a place to fight his grip. 

"What--put me down! What are you--"

Somehow, he managed to juggle you in such a way that he could hit all the scanners through the halls, dropping you into your bed. "Nap time now."

You sighed, trying to stare him down. "It's not going to magically happen just because you say so. I'm just going to get up--"

You couldn't even finish what you were saying, as you suddenly had the full weight of a engineer do the most careful full-body flop across you. Mark popped up with a grin at your indignant squawk.

"Then I'll just have to pin you in place until you get some sleep!"

"What about your work?"

"I've got sick days I haven't cashed in." As he spoke, he was typing things into his wrist tablet. "Might as well take one now."

You stared, wondering if there was any sort of out for you from his worry. A slow sigh pulled from you as you flopped back dramatically. "Fiiiiiiiiiine."

"Fine?"

"You win. Just...can we at least get comfortable first? I didn't really want boots on in my bed."

"Can do, Captain!"

He let you get changed into pajamas, disappearing just long enough to go do a run towards his own room to get changed himself. You briefly contemplated escaping into the ship, but you didn't want to explain to the crew that you were trying to play the world's most complicated game of hide and seek.

Mark returned with a blanket in his arms, taking the time to tuck you in before snuggling in beside you. "Gotta make sure you sleep, after all."

It took some time, the two of you adjusting to sharing the bed and rearranging who was laying where. In the end, you were curled up facing each other, his arm draped over your waist so he could gently rub your back.

For the first time in that very long week, sleep didn't feel like a chore. You felt warm, safe and protected, and utterly surrounded by the person who knew what you had gone through. He had still trusted you to make the right decision then...you trusted him now.

It was the best damn sleep of your life.

[cluelessatthispoint]

How’d mercs react when their S/O broke a bone in their body ?

OOOOOH! This is a good ask! I've never broken a bone before; I can only imagine what the pain and confusion is like.

Well, after finally getting a new laptop, here is your request.

~~~~~~~~

The sound of muffled yelling and a faint buzzing assaulted your ears. The feeling of all the air in your lungs leaving your body was almost as noticeable as the faint tingling sensation in your leg. The company picnic went from roaring cheers to an eerie silent. Your eyes were wide and unfocused, blurry shapes darted in front of your face. The sun felt all too warm of your skin and the breeze that ghosted over the field engulfed your form in a toasty embrace. The person kneeling in front of you drops their bat and from what you can tell, waves their hand in front of your eyes. Pitifully blinking away the tears, you finally are able to register the searing white hot pain radiating in your left leg.

Scout:

"Holy Crap!" (y/n)!? Are you okay?"

Lifting your head from off the matted field you struggle to lift the rest of your body from the ground.

"I wouldn't move if I were you-that looks really bad! I mean I ain't no doctor-but good thing we have a medic on base!"

Blinking away your tears you try to look down at where the pain is coming from, but calloused fingers gently bring your face to look away.

In short: Scout knows the basics of how to make a splint; but since it's you, he takes you to Medic. Scout makes you soup, gets you an icepack, elevates your leg with plenty of pillows and makes sure to give you the right dosage of pain medication. And when times are really rough, he will sit down next to you and snuggle. His long lanky arms wrapped around your chest as you lean all your weight into his side.

Sniper:

"Look at me Roo, look at me."

Sniper's commanding voice draws your attention away from the crowd of people swarming in to offer assistance. His wide blue eyes gaze at you in concern. Looking you over for any other injuries he motions for medic to come over. The rest of the day is a blur, you remember how firm and gentle hands ushered you to lay back down in Sniper's hold. The feeling of your leg growing numb and heavy. Every time you let out a small noise of discomfort Sniper leaned down to your ear and whispered small comforts and distractions.

At the end of the day, you and Sniper are resting in bed. Your head nestled gently against his chest.

Soldier:

You can't be sure if you're the one screaming or if your boyfriend is. All you see are lips moving and how exaggerated his arm movements are. The situation would almost be comical if not for the blinding pain making its presence known in your leg.

"(Y/N)!"

"(Y/N), don't move, don't move a single inch! Medic is on his way! When he's here then you can move!"

You blink up at Soldier, his wide eyes and quivering lip betraying his confident persona. When the cast is set in place, and you are sent back to your room Soldier makes great efforts to ensure your safety and well-being. He will wrap you in your favorite blankets and bring you all your favorite snacks. Time was passed, by watching tv, or listening to all his war stories.

Spy:

That one second of pain was all it took for him to disappear and reappear by your side. Whispering sweet words of comfort, he cradled your head in his chest with one hand while silently beckoning the resident medic out onto the field. His soft voice anchors you to this moment. It's calming in a scary sort of way. Being in his profession; Spy knows for sure what kind of pain you are going through. All the times he had to make sure that he wasn't left behind enemy lines unable to defend himself. How he delt with that fear, how he dealt with that pain. He wants to make sure that you never have to be in pain while alone. Back at base he treats you as if you were made of the finest porcelain. As if one wrong move might shatter you. He makes Medic do daily check-ups to see how you are and he makes you all the finest home cooked meals that you could ever want.

Demoman:

His strong arms wrap around your torso and gently picks you up, only to set you back down when your leg moves in an unnatural angle. Eye widening in shock, he runs back to the tent and drags a concerned Medic over.

"Aye, Look at me darlin-aye that's right, focus only on me-you're okay, you're okay."

When Medic is done looking you over, he carries you bridal style back to his room and makes you as comfortable as he possibly can. He brings over a deck of cards to play with, the tv set from the rec room, even the bookshelf from your room.

Pyro:

All hell breaks loose. Dragging both Engineer and Medic to your side he pets your head as Medic turns you over to your front side. Engineer: on the opposite side of Pyro and Medic, supports the rest of your weight as you are carried over to the medical wing. Pyro sticks by your side while Medic works his magic. His warm arms encase you in a tight embrace when you finally are declared healthy enough to go back to your room for rest. Pyro brings you all his stuffed animals, games, plushies and blankets. Anything you need and more is brought into your room making the space look more like a daycare than a normal room.

"Thank you Py, I really appreciate it."

Heavy:

When he sees you fall, he sees red. His instincts go on overdrive. He rushes over as fast as he can and without warning he resets your leg and makes a splint.

"Shhh, it is okay to cry, let it out."

Looking you over and trying to assess the situation only one conclusion comes to mind.

"Now we go to see Medic."

Leaving no room for an argument he lifts you up and brings you to the doctor. After getting pain medication, he carries you to your room and makes you his homemade soup. Heavy knows how much pain you are in and strives to make you feel comfortable. He treats you no different, because he already treated you like royalty.

Medic:

Seeing you struggle to stand back up from that nasty fall was all it took for Medic to know that something was amiss. He asks Heavy to return with a gurney and he sprints over to your side. His questions are clam and practiced, but his tone of voice has a noticeable falter. Enough to know that he was scared.

"Alrighty, now we are going to pay little Archimedes a visit in the lab, and then we shall go on from there, ja?"

Medic wastes no time in getting cast on and giving you medicine. He knows that now you are physically okay. But he wants to know what's going on upstairs. Gently he takes you back to your room and helps you undress and redress in more comfortable clothing.

"Lieb?"

You say nothing but hold on to him as tightly as you can.

Engineer:

Engineer has seen his fair share of accidents working out on the farm as a child. So, when you fall, and the sound of a CRUNCH was heard that was all he needed to know that you were not all right.

"I'm coming Darlin!"

Strong hands turn you over to your front and you are greeted with the brightest blue eyes that you've ever seen.

"Hey, Dell."

The calm aura that you were letting off only confirmed the fact that you didn't know that your leg was broken yet.

"Alright, I'm going to take you over to Medic so he can look you over, how's that sound?"

You could only nod in agreement.

After getting settled with a cast and a numb leg. Engineer carried you to his room and made you some tea, snacks and brought over some blankets. For the next few weeks, it felt as if you were in heaven on earth.

~~~

Ta da! Hope you like it!

[mothgodofchaos]

*places down chickie fingies*

It's me. I know you're gonna call me out lovingly in the tags. :P Buuuuuuuut. You know I need a soft confession of love during Valentine's Day for our favorite Head Himbo and his Captain.

Made

Oh yeah. Let’s get you some sweetness in your coffee.

Engineer x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 328

You stand on the bridge, gazing out upon the open skies, taking in the stars in the empty room. You hear the door hiss as it opens and closes, sure footsteps of boots against the metal behind you. “Good morning, Marcus.” “Morning, captain.” He places your coffee in front of you on the center console, standing to your right, still remaining slightly behind you. You take a sip, finding it sweeter than you normally drink it. “Marcus, did you swap our coffees again?” “Nope, just made yours a little different today.” You look at Marcus, who has a smug look on his face as he looks out the same window, sipping his own coffee. You look down, sure enough, it is your mug, but it’s still slightly off.

“While I appreciate that, I would really appreciate it in the future if you’d just stick with my usual order if you insist on making it for me. Or I can come make it myself.” “Captain, do you know what day it is?” He’s very rarely one to ignore what you ask him to do, but the irrelevant question caught you off guard. “What does toda-” “Do you know what day it is, captain?” “Should I?” “It certainly would explain why your coffee is sweeter.” You glance down at your central console, looking for the date. Finally, you find it under layers of messages and data, “February 14th, 20XX”.

“Oh-”

“Figured making it with a little bit of love today wouldn’t hurt you~”

Glancing down at your mug, then back up at him, you feel your cheeks heat up as he meets your gaze with another smug look.

“Sweet enough for you, captain~?”

“Pl- mmm- plenty!”

It’s barely made out, but he seems satisfied with your answer.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweet captain~”

Marcus kisses your cheek, walking past you and out of the bridge with a hum and skip in his step. At least red is the color of love.

[apersonofnointerest]

Cinnamon Sugar

Engineer x G/N Reader

Welcome to my Soft Violencing All Of My Friends: The Series™️

1/8 @writtengalaxies you’re up first Bitch <33

——————

“Captain what’s the code for the storage room again?”

“Captain when is my break-“

“Hey Captain I need help with this really quick.”

It was always Captain Captain Captain-

You huffed a breath of frustration. Everything had become a bit overwhelming this past week. The stress of your position getting to you again. You woke up incredibly early and went to bed 18 hours later with barely any breaks. You barely even got to spend time with your boyfriend! People should give you things for the amount you’ve been doing for them. Like cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon rolls are good.

..Anyway.

Quite frankly you were tired.

Mark started to realize this.

He had called for you yesterday and you accidentally snapped at him. You apologized of course, …and vented a little bit.

Ever since then he’s been trying to take to workload off of you a little, little things like helping anyone who asked you, getting you your favorite coffee, and even a job or two of yours.

You appreciated it immensely. Especially as you actually had a good amount of time for a lunch break.

But after that lunch break everything got overwhelming again. Mark had seemingly disappeared. You only caught little glimpses of him looking at you as he sped down the hallway holding things out of your view.

Usually you’d investigate or be suspicious, but every time you’d take a step in his direction there was another call for you.

The hours went by slowly. Very Slowly.

By the time it was your usual off time, you still had Your Own jobs to finish. Helping everyone else had taken all of your time up.

So there you were, trudging to go do the last few things-

“Captain-!”

You almost Groan at the word as you turn around, too tired to recognize the voice, but instead of another task, you’re met with a smiling face. His smiling face.

“Captain- There you are! I was looking for you, could you come here?”

You tilt your head.

“For what, Mark?”

“Something! Just come here!”

He excitedly tugs on your arm. The irritated thoughts are clouded by how excited he is and how cute that look is on his face.

“I have a few more things I have to do, can it wait?”

Albeit you were curious, but work comes first.

“Nooo! I have everything else covered for you! Just come with me?”

You pause for a moment, lifting an eyebrow.

“You have everything covered?”

“Yes! Come on!!!”

He tugs on your sleeve again, giving you those silly puppy eyes he knows you can’t resist-

You let out a long sigh.

“Fine.”

His smile grows and he starts to drag you down the halls by your arm.

“Where are we going??”

“You’ll see!”

You just sigh as he continues to bring you somewhere. It takes a moment but, you realize he’s headed towards the food area. You don’t question it, probably because you’re partially groggy from how tired you are.

Turns out he is going to the food area. He pulls you into the room, and on the table are what appear to be cinnamon rolls. He pulls a chair out for you, finding your eyes.

“I know you’ve been struggling a bit recently, sooo I thought you might like something a little little special! …Well cinnamon rolls aren’t That special but I made them so I think they’re special! And I hope you like them!”

You pause for a moment, your brain registering everything.

“You made me cinnamon rolls?”

You don’t realize but your tone sounds a little bit unamused. He pauses, beginning to fiddle with his hands.

“Yes- I know it’s not much but-“

You sigh and step towards him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. You can tell he didn’t expect it because he pauses, before wrapping his arms around you.

“Thank you Mark. It means a lot more than you know.”

He squeezes you a bit.

“Of course! It’s nothing really- I just remember you saying you wanted cinnamon rolls a while back and- thought I’d make you some..”

“Did I?”

You pull back from the hug, keeping your arms around his neck.

“Um, yes you did! Right before you went to bed the other day, you were mumbling that you wanted cinnamon rolls! I remember because I thought it was cute.”

“And you remembered that?”

“Of course I did!”

You sigh in an affectionate manner, smiling at him.

“Of course you did.”

You just lovingly stare at him for a moment, sure that you have stars gleaming in your tired eyes. Then you lean forward and press a small kiss to his lips, smiling as you pull away.

“Now, I’m going to eat all of these cinnamon rolls and I’m going to Love them.”

“Hey- Save me one!!”

[mane--attraction]

Playfighting headcanons addendum

A/N: I had meant to add Engineer Mark to the original list but completely forgot and ran out of energy for it. These are a slightly different style than the last ones cuz that's just how they ended up lol. Once again, MINORS DNI

~~~~~

Engineer Mark:

Is reluctant at first, because you're his captain! He could never fight you!

Ignoring of course the whole confrontation at the warp core

He's also secretly afraid this is a trap and you're going to turn this around on him and issue him demerits or worse

After reassuring him a few or twenty times, he agrees

He still throws the fight a couple of times, and you have to huff at him and insist he plays along or else you might actually give him demerits

(you wouldn't actually, but it gets him to listen)

After that, it becomes more interesting

Bit by bit, you find yourself losing ground to him as he starts pushing the boundaries of how much of his strength he's allowed to use

You thought the two of you were pretty evenly matched, with you in the slight upper hand, but it seems your dear engineer has done more manual labor than you expected

Some days, he's more determined than others to be the victor; if it is indeed one of those days, you find your strength waning as the wrestling drags out

Before long, you find yourself with your arms above your head and a knee pressed against your body between your legs

"So, Captain…to the winner go the spoils?"

If you don't push him a lot, it's a fifty-fifty shot as to whether or not you'll win, because as already established, he will let you win, even if you do manage to convince him to not hold back

Night

Appears to have zero interest

"Why should I have to engage in physical aggression?" and oh my outfit will become all disheveled and he can't have that

Such a drama queen

But agree he does, shucking his coat, and you realize partway through that you're a bit more over your head than you realize

Sure, he prefers not to be physically aggressive, but he can more than hold his own if you push him enough

And push him you do; it's so easy to get a rise out of him that you resort to your usual teasing, but now he's decided to make an example of what happens when you push him too far

He…may or may not have other supernatural abilities to give him the upperhand (i.e. tentacles)—when you notice that spiral light up on his face, you somehow know it doesn't bode well for you (in terms of winning)

He is stronger at night than during the day (shocker, I know). As such, you're more likely (and probably will) win against him during the day as opposed to at night

You may have had to teasingly insult him in order to get him to play fight, or suggest that maybe you'd go to another "god" who will take you up on the offer—and with his pride on the line, plus a slight bit of possessiveness at you being his little human, he decided he had to take you up on it

There's a ferocity that comes out in moments like this, usually hidden by his whining and dramatics

(You'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on)

Your limbs are held down by shadows, tentacles made of pure night sky, and that spiral glows threateningly as he leans in, his grin much sharper than you're used to seeing (figuratively and literally)

"Little mortal…shall you atone for your misgivings?"

Again, your chances are pretty split on winning, depending on the time of day, how far you push him, and his overall mood that day. Maybe put him in his place for once lol

~~~~~~

As a recap: Murdock and Dark are the hardest to win against, followed by Actor and Night on certain days thanks to their supernatural abilities, and the other three I wrote about (Illinois, Damien, and Engineer) are tied as to whether or not you'll win, depending on the circumstances (although based on strength alone it would go Illinois, Engineer, then Damien).

[itadorey]

𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 (?) 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄— gojo satoru

pairing: racer!gojo x race engineer!reader genre: formula 1 au, fluff summary: he's insufferable (and wants to ask you out) and you're just trying to help him win the championship notes: formula 1 has ruined my life. probably lots of inconsistencies but i sped wrote this. this turned out a lot longer than i initially planned. gn reader but mention of wearing a dress. word count: ~3.2k

It's hot.

Your nose scrunches up in mild disgust as you feel a bead of sweat trickle down your neck, quickly making it's way towards the collar of your shirt before it's wiped away with a soft towel.

"Thanks," you mutter, looking up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes accompanied by a swoon-worthy smile. You huff lightly at the wink Gojo sends your way, turning away slightly to let your eyes roam over the rest of the paddock. Your lips turn up into a smile when you catch sight of Geto Suguru walking past your garage, and you return his greeting with a wave of your own before you hear Gojo grumble from his place beside you.

"Fraternizing with the enemy," he says, annoyance coating his words. He crosses his arms, unintentionally flexing and drawing your gaze towards his torso. His black fireproofs fit him snugly, and you find your mouth going dry as you try your best not to ogle him. You wonder if the temperature's gotten hotter. "That's not very nice of you."

"He's not the enemy," you protest, turning away to grab Gojo's helmet before thrusting it into his chest. "He's your best friend."

"Off track he is," Gojo agrees, holding onto the helmet. He pulls you in slightly, raising a brow when you don't immediately let it go. "But on track, he's my biggest competition. So you should be focused on me, not him. He's only a handful of points behind me."

"I'd hardly call one hundred points a handful," you mutter, turning to the side to grab a clipboard. "I think you're guaranteed to win the championship this year. Plus, Megumi's been doing great as well. Kid is in third place and it's only his second year! I think we've got the constructor's in the bag as well."

"All I need is a couple of bad races and next thing you know, Geto Suguru is the 2024 World Champion."

"Bad races," you snort, guiding Gojo towards his car and shoving his balaclava into his free hand. "Gojo Satoru does not have bad races. I don't know how you do it. I feel like you never drop below second place."

"It's all thanks to those genius strategies of yours," Gojo quips, watching in amusement as you shake your head in mild disbelief. There's a soft glint in his eye that you never seem to notice, and he finds himself wondering if maybe he should be a little more obvious about his feelings. (Everyone else on the grid and even the majority of the fans know he has the hots for you, so really, you're just the densest person to exist).

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say, waving him off as you start to make your way towards the rest of your team. "Pull your suit up and go get settled in."

Gojo watches you for a couple of minutes, leaning against a cement column with his arms crossed. He doesn't know how, but watching you organize the team and go over your notes has become his pre-race ritual. He's so lost in thought that he fails to notice the cameras pointed at him, broadcasting the lovestruck look on his face for everyone watching the race live to see.

"Ready to go?"

Gojo snaps out of his daze when his team principal, Yaga Masamichi, comes up to him. There's a faint smirk on his lips as he motions towards you, his sunglasses hiding the teasing glint that Gojo just knows is present. "Or is there something you need to urgently discuss with your beloved race engineer?"

Gojo rolls his eyes but chooses to remain silent before pulling his balaclava over his head. He's abnormally quiet as he settles into his seat, and when he catches sight of you giving him a thumbs up from afar, he decides to ask you out right after he beats Geto and wins first place.

"Radio check."

"I can hear you loud and clear," you respond, your voice carrying the same lilt that Gojo's does. He laughs quietly, settling into the second position after the formation lap. A glance to his left leaves him scowling when he sees Geto flip him off, and he sighs deeply before realizing that his radio is still on. "Something wrong?"

"Just Suguru being an asshole," he responds, his irritation fading away when you attempt to choke down your laughter.

"Radio is still on," you manage to spit out. "Mind your language."

"You can reprimand me later," Gojo says immediately, well aware that his radio has probably drawn the broadcaster's attention. "Over dinner, maybe? Just you and me in the candlelight at that little Italian place you like."

"Win the race and then maybe I'll consider it," you hum, amusement tinging your words as you shake your head. Gojo can't help but pout when he realizes that you're dismissing his words as a joke, and he merely huffs before turning his radio off and telling himself that he has to beat Geto to the first turn if he wants any chance of winning this race.

It isn't long until lights out, and Gojo finds himself reacting just quick enough to push past Geto's car and take the lead. He catches a glimpse of Megumi gaining on Yuuji, eventually passing him and allowing him to start catching up to Geto. Seeing that his biggest competition is now being distracted by his teammate, Gojo turns his focus back to the track, trying to put as much distance between him and Geto as possible. A few laps pass before he hears his radio crackle to life, and he hears you speak softly so as to not startle him with the suddenness of your words.

"You're seven seconds ahead of Geto," you say, earning a hum of acknowledgement in return. "You also currently have the fastest lap so please focus on managing your tyres."

"The tyres are fine," Gojo's voice trills through your headphones. You glance over at Yaga, grimacing when you see him shaking his head.

"There's been reports of graining," you respond nonchalantly. "Please take better care of your tyres unless you want us to pit you earlier than planned and switch to plan B."

"Alright, whatever," Gojo grumbles, going quiet for a few seconds before speaking once more. "Now let me focus on driving. The sooner I win, the sooner I can see your pretty face."

You roll your eyes at his words, raising an eyebrow in confusion when Yaga fails to muffle his amused chuckle.

"Something funny?" you ask, leaning back slightly to look at the older man. He holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the monitor in front of him. You roll your eyes briefly before turning back to the pit wall as well, ignoring the words Yaga mutters under his breath about someone being oblivious.

The race progresses smoothly, and you find yourself feeling thankful that both you and Tsumiki (Megumi's race engineer) have had an uneventful race so far. It isn't until the race is about a third of the way through that you finally turn the radio on again, holding out a hand to stop Tsumiki from doing the same. "Gojo? We are boxing next lap, do you copy?"

"Copy," he responds immediately, his tone uncharacteristically serious for once. "Are we sticking with plan A?"

"Yes, you listened for once," you confirm, nodding your head even though he can't see you. "You have enough of a gap that we can comfortably put you on hards and have you back in the top spot in no time. The track is warm enough for those tyres."

"I always listen to you," Gojo replies without missing a beat. "Anything you say goes."

A deep sigh is all he gets in return, and he can't help the small chuckles that leaves his lips as he finishes his lap and prepares to pull into the pit lane. The stop is performed without a hitch, and you sigh in relief when Gojo emerges in third place, only a couple of seconds behind Megumi. You exchanged nods with Tsumiki, and you turn your attention back to the monitor in front of you as she radios Megumi to come in for his pit stop next.

"Okay, Gojo," you speak when you see Megumi head into the pit lane. "We're getting Megumi in and out as fast as possible. Geto is about ten seconds ahead of you, it's time to push."

"Perfect, but not as perfect as you" Gojo sings, swearing as he takes a turn a little too wide.

"Make that eleven seconds," you correct, biting your lips to hold back a laugh when Gojo swears again. "Go do your thing. I'll keep you updated."

There's no response as the radio clicks off, and you find yourself wincing when you realize that Megumi's slow pit stop has dropped him down to fifth place behind Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna. You can hear hushed words coming from Tsumiki, and you can't help but feel bad for her predicament considering that Sukuna is the reason that Megumi hadn't been able to finish his race a couple of weeks ago after being pushed off track and into the barrier.

You watch with bated breath as the gap between Gojo and Geto begins to close, and you cross your fingers and hope that Shoko, his race engineer, will choose that moment to call him in for a tyre change. Your hopes go unanswered, and you're on the edge of your seat when Gojo managed to catch up to Geto after ten laps.

The air feels tense as you and Yaga watch Gojo get incredibly close to Geto, separating from him right as he turns a corner to avoid being hit. He's close to him— too close, you think— and you find yourself taking a deep breath to prevent yourself from turning on the radio to tell him to stop being so aggressive. A glance to your right tells you that Yaga isn't concerned with Gojo's driving, so you decide to let him be and see how the situation works out.

Your fingers grip onto your clipboard, knuckles going white as Gojo manages to swerve himself into the spot right next to Geto. You're slightly awestruck as you watch Geto and Gojo race wheel to wheel, their synchronicity impressive as they take tight corners and long straights in unison. There's a brief moment during which you wonder what it would be like if they were teammates, and you shake your head to clear the thoughts from your head. You fear that being teammates could damage their friendship beyond repair.

"There's been contact!" Yaga shouts, snapping you back to reality. You scramble for the radio button, a gasp leaving your lips as you watch Gojo swerve close to the edge of the track. You see Geto move in the opposite direction, and you quickly scan all the monitors before speaking to your racer.

"Gojo, there was contact but the car seems to be perfectly fine," you say calmly, watching as he straightens himself out and passes Geto. "That's P1."

"Great!" Gojo replies breathlessly, his voice sounding slightly strained. "How is Geto? Is he fine?"

You take a second to glance to the side, receiving a nod from Yaga before he motions to the pit lane. A soft call of your name has you turning your attention back to the radio, and you nod to yourself before updating Gojo. "He's fine, slight front wing damage so Shoko brought him in to get that changed along with his tyres. You're in the lead and we're waiting to see what the stewards will say about the incident. We think you might get a warning."

"Alright, better than a penalty," Gojo says, nodding to himself as he takes another turn. "Just a couple more laps and then I can take you out for that dinner."

"I said I'd think about it," you reply dryly, ignoring the giggle that leaves Tsumiki's lips. "Just bring it home. Geto had a bad pit stop so him, Yuuji, and Megumi are like fifteen seconds behind you."

"Whoa! Megumi made it past Sukuna? The kid's got balls."

"Language, Gojo," you remind him, sighing softly. "I'm turning the radio off now. Don't fuck this up."

"Language!" Gojo mocks, his laugh cutting out as you turn the radio off. You spend the last quarter of the race watching Megumi alongside Tsumiki, slightly impressed as Gojo manages to retain his now sixteen second lead. It isn't until Geto manages to break away from Yuuji and Megumi that you start to get nervous, and you watch as he begins to push the last few laps of the race.

"Gojo?" you ask, the radio crackling to life as you watch the monitors. "Just letting you know that Geto has managed to pull ahead of Yuuji and Megumi. I don't think he can catch up but there's still a couple of laps and he always manages to surprise us."

The silence you receive unsettles you, and you mutely turn the radio off and sit back to watch the end of the race. There's not much you can do but rely on Gojo to pull through, and you can vaguely hear Tsumiki talking to Megumi over the radio as he battles with Yuuji. You're on the edge of your seat when Geto manages to set the fastest lap in the race, and you begin to worry that he might be able to catch up to Gojo, only for your fears to be quelled when you realize that it is the final lap of the race.

"Last lap, Gojo!" you call out, turning the radio on in excitement. "Bring it home!"

"Last lap?" he asks, laughing breathlessly when he receives a hum from you. "How far behind me is the next car?"

"Fourteen seconds," you respond, bouncing your knee up and down in anticipation as he turns the last corner. The upcoming straight is the only thing between him and the finish line, and you feel your heart drop when Gojo's car suddenly starts to lose speed. "Gojo? Are you losing power?"

"Nope!" he chirps cheerily, humming softly to himself. "Are you feeling Italian? We can always choose a different restaurant for dinner?"

You do your best to ignore the anxiety creeping up your spine, watching as Gojo trails towards the finish line at what can only be described as a snail's pace compared to the speed of Formula 1 cars. Your eyes widen when you see the gap between him and Geto close, and you do your best to not let your nervousness creep into your tone. "Gojo, is really not the time to be talking about dinner."

"But you're going out to dinner with me right?" comes his immediate response.

"Gojo, please hurry up and cross the finish line."

"Not until you agree to go out with me!" he trills. Yaga shoots you a pleading glance.

"Gojo! Please! Just win the race!" you beg, swallowing harshly as your fingers begin to tap against your clipboard. You catch a glimpse of the amused look on Tsumiki's face, but you're unable to give her the scathing glare you usually would due to the fear you're beginning to feel.

"I can stay here all day," he replies smugly, giggling to himself as he speeds the car up just to slow down once more. "Well I can't, but I can stay here until I cross the finish line in P20."

"Oh my fucking god," you nearly shriek, watching as Geto takes the final turn and begins to head down the straight. "Yes! Yes, I'll go out with you, Gojo! Now please just cross the damn finish line, you dumbass!"

"My pleasure!" he teases, slamming his foot down on the accelerator just in time to cross the finish line a second before Geto. A loud whoop leaves Yaga's mouth as everyone in the pit wall relaxes, too relieved by Gojo's win to instantly realize that Megumi has managed to cross the finish line before Yuuji. The cheers surrounding you sound muted as you put your head in your hands, trying to calm your racing heart and fight off a smile as you realize that you now have a date for the night.

You barely process anything as Tsumiki drags you towards the now parked racecars, and you try your best to ignore Shoko's smug smirk as she whispers into Geto's ear. You think it's safe to assume that she's filling him in on what happened with Gojo during the last lap.

His loud laugh accompanies by a friendly wink thrown your way confirms your assumption.

You stand near the back of the crowd as Gojo stands on top of his car, holding his pointer finger up and posing for pictures before leaping back onto the ground and proceeding to congratulate Geto and Megumi for their performances. You manage to catch his eye after a few minutes, and you feel your face grow warm when a genuine smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling as he makes his way through the crowd towards you.

"Congrats on P1," you say quietly, trying your best to ignore the way he's looking at you.

"All thanks to your genius strategies," he quips, repeating his words from earlier. The smile on his face tells you that he wants to make a suggestive comment, and you do your best to redirect the conversation before he can.

"You should probably head into the cooldown room," you comment casually, tilting your head in the direction that Geto and Megumi had disappeared to. "Podium celebration is about to start. Don't forget to get weighed."

"Don't forget to wear that pretty, red dress I like," he responds confidently. A surprised laugh leaves your lips at his comment, and you can't help but shake your head fondly as you finally look up at him.

"You know, you didn't have to give me a heart attack during the race. You could've asked me out after the race like a normal person. I would've said yes," you confess, becoming hyperaware of all the attention the two of you seem to be drawing.

"What can I say?" Gojo responds, shrugging half-heartedly as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's close enough that you can see the varying shades of blue in his eyes, and you resist the urge to jokingly push him away when he loops an arm around your waist. "I tend to have a flair for the dramatic."

"Oh boy, don't I know it," you whisper, not giving him the chance to respond before you loop your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. Both of you faintly register the whoops and cheers surrounding you, and you can't help but break apart from each other as laughter starts to bubble up in your throats.

It isn't until you fully pull away from him and usher him towards the cooldown room that you notice the sheer amount of cameras that have been pointed your way, focusing on the moment that has just been shared between the both of you. An embarrassed noise escapes your lips as you duck into your team's garage, giggling when you hear Yaga congratulating you loudly on your win. A smile spreads across your face as you settle into a seat to watch the podium ceremony, and you find yourself wondering if you and Gojo will manage to evade the press when you finally leave the track.

It's safe to say that the internet has a field day when the news of Gojo's end-of-race stunt and your spontaneous kiss breaks.

ty for reading!! rbs are appreciated <3

[dollerinna]

WOULD YOU LIKE AN ALMOND JOY .ᐣ

( black noir x gn!crime analyst reader )

summary: after a long day of work, you try to unwind by watching your comfort show, but your solitude is interrupted by yet another visit from noir, who seems to be finding more and more excuses to spend time with you… (includes a C.AI bot as part 2 below!)

wordcount: 2k

tags: brief mention of NSFW pop-up ads, nerdy n’ socially awkward reader, noir’s disdain for almond joys but he makes up for it at the end <3

It had been a long day at the crime analytics office in Vought. As the sun began to set, exhaustion crept over you after reviewing incident report after report. Your eyes strained from the blue glare of your computer screen. You knew you had promised your boss you would organize the ever-growing database, but the tiny voice of procrastination was pleading for rest before your overworked brain turned into a pile of mush.

Rather than more paperwork—you, being the slacker of all slackers in this department, decided a well-deserved break was in order. And what better way to recharge than turning off the noggin and filling it with good ol’ fashioned mindless entertainment?

With a few tired clicks of your mouse, you booted up your go-to streaming site, which was none other than 123movies. Scrolling through the options, your cursor hovered over the play button of your favorite trashy drama. The kind of cheesy, perfectly predictable melodrama spun from the worst of amateur YA plots. It was practically comfort food for your fatigued mind, just what you needed to loosen up after the mental marathon that was this long day.

As the opening credits began to roll, your computer began to whir and hiss like an overtaxed engine, emitting gusts of unusually hot air from the vents. Suddenly, its screen slowed to a sluggish crawl, cluttered with a barrage of not-so-savory pop-up ads. Barely a minute in, the pixels already scrambled to form images better to left unseen—half naked women in risqué yet tacky mermaid-like attire, claiming they were ‘just around the corner and ready for a good aquatic fuck.’

First of all, what the absolute living hell is an “aquatic fuck”??

Did you even want to know? And most importantly, what happened to the ad blocker you installed just the other day? Judging by the contents, you had a sneaking suspicion that slimy, sea-dwelling degenerate, The Deep, had tampered with your computer… yet again.

“For the love of-… what’s with all these pop-up ads?” you muttered under your breath as excessively explicit ads crowded out the episode. Your eyes darted furtively around the room to check for wandering glances, hoping against hope that none of your coworkers had noticed the unwanted filth invading your screen. Heart pounding, you squeezed your chair closer to your monitor into a makeshift barricade, shielding the display as best you could while hastily clicking away at the intrusive ads.

As you hurriedly closed the remaining windows, an ominous shadow fell across the screen. Dreading what—or who—might be behind you, you slowly swiveled your chair around to find Black Noir's stoic stare boring into your own.

You stifled a yelp as you instinctively clutched the armrests, catching yourself on the edge of your seat before an ungainly spill to the floor. Noir had a way of materializing without warning, and it never failed to unnerve.

“N-Noir!” you managed, inwardly cringing as your voice broke on his name. “Fancy seeing you in these parts. I was just taking a quick break and y’know- stretching ‘em brain cells.” You tried for a lighthearted chuckle, but it emerged as more of a strained squeak that faded into an anxious hum.

With a jerky flurry of clicks and the browser minimized from view, whatever dignity you still retained disappearing along with it. All that did remain was you praying to the heavens above that he hadn't noticed its questionable contents (even if he most definitely had and simply chose not to comment)

When Noir offered no response, you of course charmingly barreled ahead in your frazzled daze. “But anyways, s-sorry about that… how uh, can I help you today?” your words tumbled out in a breathless rush, punctuated by a shrill laugh you hoped disguised the mortification simmering beneath.

Noir cocked his head, observing you with that same silent intensity. You fidgeted, hands twisting in knotted discomfort, the heat in your ears now engulfing your entire face. Was it the invasive pop-ups that had you squirming in your seat? Or the fact he could snuff out your existence faster than you can say “workers’ comp”?

Either way, beneath the weight of his stare, you already felt as if you were some peculiar, freakish creature pinned for study, rather than some bumbling employee just trying to unwind and watch their comfort show.

And to him, you indeed were a fascinating, bizarre little human.

Mercifully, Noir chose to extend a folder toward you, putting an end to your somewhat pathetic withering. You accepted it with a wordless nod, nearly sagging in your chair as tension drained from your shoulders.

Whirling towards the familiar clutter of your desk once more, you pretended absorption in the folder’s material, hoping this signaled Noir’s leave. After all, has anyone seen the state of you? It certainly wasn’t a flattering one. Yet from the corner of your eye, you detected no movement, no receding footsteps—his shadowy form remained statuesquely in place.

Believe it or not, this has been becoming a thing, a growing habit of late—and a suspicious one at that. Lately his breaks had grown longer, minutes lengthening to quarters of an hour, all spent hovering at your desk as you worked. However, his focus was solely on watching and observing you. He never exhibited a hint of thought or motive for his reason there, only leaving you with questions that seemed to multiply by each and every visit.

Noir, on the other hand, was somehow utterly convinced that you and him were two peas in a tightly-knit pod. He swore you two were best of buds for life—even if "life" so far had only amounted to the past two weeks' worth of half-hour stretches where he silently observed your work from the corner.

Ironically, you didn’t have the slightest inkling of how he really felt. Instead, you always assumed that he, like most supes, regarded you as little more than a puny mortal—a fragile, near-useless sack of flesh and bones whose skull he was one misstep away from caving in with bare hands.

But nope, Noir was simply here to bless you, the nerdy but cute crime analyst, with his presence—his rather… unsettling presence.

The familiar hush settled as you reluctantly returned focus to the task at hand. Hocus-pocus-focus, you chanted mentally, peeling away the last shreds of stray thoughts to tap into the zone of productivity. Unfurling the dossier Noir provided, you began sifting through documents for insight on his purpose in approaching you. Meanwhile, a flick of movement in the edge of your vision revealed Noir's attention veer off course, the almond joy perched beside your keyboard capturing his notice.

You tensed, hocus-pocus-focus breaking, all too aware of past disappearances of snacks in these briefings. Sure enough, his hand drifted noiselessly toward the candy bar, no doubt spurred by ingrained impulse to dispose of it per his usual custom. But you'd grown wise to his methods by now.

Not again, you sighed inwardly, snatching the almond joy and cradling it protectively as if it were your dear, beloved child.

Noir made no move to withdraw, palm outstretched expectantly. You frowned, struggling to keep frustration at bay. "Please, come on- not this time!.. It's my last one for the day." Brows pinching, your tone threatened to rise before steadying with a slow and calm inhale. No use losing composure over candy, no matter the principle. So all you could do was peer beseechingly at Noir in silent appeal, legs jittering restlessly under your desk in building apprehension.

Unfortunately, you found no signs of leniency in his obscured face—only his hand beckoning relentlessly for the almond joy. You plea was once again met with stony resolve, as if he was internally distressed by the mere presence of it. What was he? Deathly allergic to almond joys or something?

With a resigned breath, you delivered the almond joy towards Noir's waiting glove, unable to hide the disappointment dimming your features. Your lips curled into a slight pout, gaze sinking heavy into your lap at being parted from the treat. Though Noir was never one for words, it really didn’t take a rocket scientist to see you felt bullied into submission by his demands. At the end of the day, what power did a measly analyst like yourself hold against one of the Seven? As your fingers uncurled, releasing the candy into Noir's grasp, you couldn't help but feel a bit put upon, even if that wasn’t his intention at all.

Noir was well aware of the upset feelings his request had caused, so in an attempt to remedy the situation, his arm was sent in a backwards reach for the notepad he often used to communicate. However, he found himself at a loss as words eluded him, his thoughts swirling in frustrating circles of “What should I even say?”—muddled and incoherent. For a moment he stared at you, mask betraying no emotion as he grappled to find the right words, despite the prick of guilt nibbling at his conscience. Then, lacking any better option, he simply tossed the offending candy into the trash, perhaps with more force than intended.

Clearly, socializing was not Noir’s strong suit.

With no further acknowledgment, Noir spun on his heel and marched away. You watched his retreating, rigid form with discomfort clenching your insides, eyes falling onto the lonely candy discarded in the trash, its colorful wrapper mocking your current disheartened state.

Wearily, you turned away from the almond joy, redirecting your attention toward the computer as a means to divert your now soured mood. Maximizing the browser, you hoped that your planned show may have had time to load during the interaction. But upon inspecting the screen, you found the video remained stubbornly stalled, stuck on buffering dots and refusing to roll despite the minutes passed.

Just. Peachy.

One (super)human encounter had sucked the very life source out of your dog-tired body, and now this. It was really shaping up to be one of those days.

Thoroughly worn out, you gently laid your head down onto the desk, pillowing it against the crook of your folded arms as eyelids slid shut. All you craved was to simply sleep away the remaining time until you could finally escape this wretched shift and retreat to the sanctuary of your home sweet home.

─────────────────

As your shift wound down to its end, you were finally stirring from your slumber. Rubbing the sleep from your bleary eyes, your blurred vision sharpened to show your colleagues had long since departed while you were snoozing away.

Rising and squaring your shoulders, you began to gather your belongings in preparation to leave as well. Once you had collected everything and lifted to your feet, something in the far corner of your desk caught your eye. Approaching for a closer look in the dim lighting, the fuzzy outline gradually came into focus—a cluttered collection of Hershey's Kisses, their jumbled placement grouped to form the shape of a heart.

You blinked in bewilderment, rubbing your eyes once more to ensure you weren't imagining things. Stepping closer, you spotted a sticky note nestled within the heart of chocolates, scrawled upon in a crude, blocky hand. At first, you assumed it was some silly prank from one of your coworkers, but you knew you recognized the handwriting anywhere—it was Noir's.

Gingerly, you plucked the sticky note from the desk, lifting it to your line of sight to read the message. “Kisses taste better than almond joys…Sorry.” you read softly, your voice trailing off as confusion crept in.

Designed as a very apparent flirty gesture, the intent behind the note and chocolates still managed to whoosh straight over your head. As always seemed the case, even the most painfully obvious social cues could so easily evade your understanding—this proving no exception.

You slipped the sticky note into your pocket, then selected a foil-wrapped Kiss from the pile. Gently rolling the chocolate between your fingers, you unwrapped it and popped one into your mouth. You took time to savor its light cream filling beneath a smooth outer shell, face crinkling in thought and head tilting as you considered your verdict. “Eh… I’d beg to differ.” you mused with a shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you took your leave from the office.

-------☆-------

Pssst- likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

-------☆-------

a C.AI bot as your very own part 2 where you thank Noir the following day:

a/n: saw somewhere that kisses don’t contain nuts but then I also saw someone else say they actually do??? So let’s just pretend the kisses Noir chose are completely nut-free for the sake of the plot 😭

also, the reader is very much based off Anika if it wasn’t obvious enough haha! She’s so y/n coded 😤💗

♡ divider credits: @/ianrkives

[pearlymel]

"The Masks We Wear"

Summary: as a journalist, you are itching to find the identity of this mysterious hero. But could it be that the hero is closer to you than you think?

Wc: 7.3k eat up

Warnings: Wriothesley x afab!reader, gn! reader, modern au, hero and villian au (one of each), reader is a journalist/cameraman, fluff, making out, crack (i laughed a lot writing this), angst (oops), one small sex scene, slightly under the influence, cursing, it's pretty unrealistic, petnames used: sunshine, love, and sweetheart.

Notes: i poured my heart and soul into this, i think it's my best piece so far ^^ give it a chance, maybe you'll love it. (Pleasepleasepleaseplease) Rbs are greatly appreciated!

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

The city is absolutely beautiful today. No, no. It’s not because of the lights that makes the place brighter and a bit more magical, how it seems livelier with a group of teenagers laughing together while buying street foods together, or the old couple that seem still very much in love, the gentleman kneeling down and tying her shoes just to make sure she wouldn’t trip this time.

Humans can be cute, you think.

But of course, among those innocent ‘humans’ are those who desire destruction.

This time, you think you might have caught something in the shadows, and you stare intently at your camera, zooming it in to see the faintest color blending in with the darkness. Hair? A part of clothes? You don’t know, but you got it.

you have this obsession of finding out who the hero of this city was, or even the villian. Although, you would be technically be walking into death if you try finding out who the villian is.

Where did this hero come from? No one knows. Sure the crime rate has lowered, but it felt like the world became even more messed up.

It all started a couple of years ago when you were in your college days, one day almost dying from a falling building, and you thought you saw the scythe waiting to take your soul at that very moment but, no.

The mysterious hero of the city that you never thought you would never encounter carried the building with his super strength power, apparently.

He who has no name, took your hand and lead you into a safer area with the police.

cliché story, right. But that’s what got you into journalism and media now.

And let’s say… you’re too far into the deep black hole to back down now.

The almost blinding light made you come back to your senses, the sounds of engine roaring in the air as the bike approached you, and your shoulders were already slumped.

“How did you find me?” You raise your voice due to the loud engine running, covering parts of your vision from the light.

“Lucky guess.” Wriothesley replied gruffly, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head slightly to fix up his messy strands.

“Care to explain what on earth are you doing here in this shady alleyway? At nine thirty where the moon is out and wolves could be coming for you?” He starts scolding you, quirking an eyebrow when you give him the bored expression, and he immediately mimics it back.

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

“Wriothesley.” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in the air. “I understand your… obsession. But it could hurt you in the process, mentally and physically.”

You know he’s saying all this because he cares so much about you. Loves you too much that it would break his soul piece by piece if one day what you’re doing will hurt you.

“Hop in, sweetheart.” He hands you the extra helmet, and you take it with a sigh. Securing it around your head before taking your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

The whole ride back was silent, yet traffic, which entirely ruined the whole mood. With the constant car horns ringing in your ear.

You tap at his thigh to grab his attention, “Why’s it traffic?” You grumble, rising yourself from the seat to look at the row of cars trying to get through.

“Not any holidays or events i can think of,” he responds back to you.

Red mixed with orange fills your vision, suddenly the car at the very front explodes. The car parts flying in the air and landing at the other vehicles which makes you frozen in shock.

Wriothesley’s clenches his hands tightly as he turns the bike around, speeding his way far away from the scene. “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look back, you hear?” He yells enough to grab your attention, and your arms tightens around him, but you have your head turned around to see the people yelling and dashing out of the vehicles. You want to capture the moment with your phone so you could submit it in for the news, but you know more than to ignore Wriothesley right now.

It’s not rare to see destruction happen in your city, it’s just… terrifying every time anybody witnesses it.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident, maybe it was planned.

“You’re not allowed to go out after seven.” Wriothesley makes it clear to you with his firm tone as you both step inside your shared apartment, locking the apartment with a click. He then tosses his keys into a bowl on a small table, before turning to look at you.

“Are you seriously setting a curfew for me? Please. what happened was not new—”

Your face is now being cradled by his rough hands, but the way he swipes a thumb under your eyebags really makes you melt. And you forget what you were going to say when his lips curl the slightest.

“I don't want anything happening to you. Ever.” He takes you in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever held. “I didn't mean to pressure you like that. I'd hate it if you were in the position of those injured people.”

You pat his back to reassure him that hopefully nothing like that will happen. “And, if, hypothetically, something like that happened; What would y—”

“I'll kill everyone.” he doesn't even let you continue before he answers, though the chuckle against your hair followed after makes your tense shoulders relax.

“maybe not to that extent,” he lifts your head up to lean in and press a tender kiss on your forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

Your boss gives you a nonchalant sharp look when you eagerly showed him the bits you managed to capture last night before you were interrupted by your great boyfriend.

His eyes squints at the more of a blurred photo that sits on the display of your camera, taking the glasses that hanged from his collar.

The sigh afterwards makes you feel discouraged when he hands you back your camera.

“i see it.” He starts and you perk up immediately.

“it looks like a blurred image of a fucking bird taking a shit on the electrical cords.” You press your lips into a thin line at his description. Too detailed of a description,

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

You clear your throat, pinching the bridge of your nose to compose yourself.

“You're lucky i like your determination or you would've been fired,” he utters out in a lax tone, resting his glasses on his big bald head that you want to spill with ketchup.

“Keep looking, i need the hero's face, details, anything. Just think of the money you and i could both earn.” He seems too enthusiastic about it, showing you determination with his fists pressing together and his wide ear to ear smile.

You leave work early that day, starting your daily walk of looking around for at least two hours or—one hour?

No, Wriothesley would be too worried if you came back after… nine. Your words not his.

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

Step one: somehow convince your boss that you need to leave early everyday.

Step two: search every nook and cranny of the city, ask every shady person if they get to talk to the hero in person or got a glimpse of his name.

Step three: go to the dark web— is that car flying infront of you right now?!

Shit. Just why does everything have to go down wherever path you go?

The people around you panics, and you equally panic with them because you're no fucking hero to tell them to get away from that flying car.

You take your camera out hurriedly from its case that slung around your shoulder, pressing record while frantically looking around. The ground shakes, it shakes so much that it feels like an earthquake almost.

“it's him! The villian!” Someone shouts from the distance, and just like that the screams that follows are in sync.

You know why the ground shook, the street has become a battlefield for the hero and villain fighting together with all their strengths, the air is filled with tension as they both clash in an epic confrontation. The ground trembles beneath your feet again as they traded blows, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The once tranquil street has now been transformed into a chaotic arena of power and destruction. As the battle rages on. The hero and villain continue their fight, each strike more powerful than the last, their movements a blur of speed and precision.

You try capturing anything with your camera, but your hand shakes that it was impossible. When the villian lands a powerful punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back, it makes you think it's time to leave.

You run with the rest without stubbornness this time. You should've listened to Wriothesley, why did you always have to be so curious about everything?

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

“Taxi!” You shout, waving your hand at the yellow vehicle, but every taxi seems to ignore the people's pleas, determined to save themselves instead.

Guess it's time to burn calories and run back home.

You were a panting mess once you reached back to your comfort space, eyes zeroing at the running television in the living room. Watching the newscaster talk about today's battle and how it affected the shops and buildings.

It seems like the battle lasted twenty minutes before the villian gave up and fled away.

Your head snaps to the bathroom once you hear the sink water drip, you didn't even think if he would be here this early.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly when you swing the door open, arms squeezing his side as you take a deep breath in.

“woah, easy there. What happened?” He takes you in, hand rubbing at your arm.

“i was…” nevermind. Maybe you shouldn't tell him what you have witnessed, he'll know once he checks the news.

You only realise that he was chest bared at the moment, and you furrow your eyebrows once you see a bruise on his shoulder.

“What happened?” It was your turn to ask, talking a gentle finger and running it over the bruise, earning a hiss from him.

“was changing the car oil at the repair shop.” He mumbles, gaze turning to the mirror, “then accidentally hit my shoulder once i got up.” he turns his arm, swinging it slowly.

“but you don't work at a car repair shop?”

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

“why didn't you tell me?” You press on, and he hangs his head low, both of his hands gripping the sink bowl.

Okay, maybe you have annoyed him a little too much now. Upon sensing your incoming apology, Wriothesley smiles at you.

“don't worry your pretty little head too much. The bruise will fade.”

“i can massage you later?” You offer, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You're the best.” He gives you a chaste kiss on your lips on his way out, which makes you feel a little fuzzy.

The evening gave way to the night sky, and you found yourself lying on the bed, replaying the video captured on your camera. The footage was far from perfect, shaky and lacking in clarity, but it still managed to capture fragments of the intense confrontation between the hero and the villain. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as you watched the brief glimpses of the clash that had taken place earlier.

How the villian managed to blow a punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back. Must've hurted.

It's almost like the same spot Wriothesley got his bruise on.

…

Wait, the same spot?  You sit up on the mattress, replaying the video on repeat of their fight.

The hero was about the same height as him, the same physique, same cake—

You shake your head, focus. Wriothesley can't be the hero, no that's impossible. He was a busy man, doing… side jobs and whatnot.

Sure he was kind, always helping everyone, even walking the neighbors dog because they got sick one day.

But then again… you never saw Wriothesley and the hero at the same time,

Or was it merely a coincidence, a random alignment of physical features?

“Sunshine?” You gasp when you snap your head up to find Wriothesley leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“y-yes?” You set the camera aside on top of the drawer. He moves closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on you then glancing at he camera.

“dinner's ready.”

You nod, silence fills the room after. You know he's waiting for you tell him more, on why you were so shocked.

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

You roll your eyes, a slow smile creeping up your face, and he loves it. He takes it as an invitation to lean closer, suddenly pinning you down on the bed to capture your lips with his.

It's slow, and gentle. It makes you hum softly, taking his face in your hands to kiss him back, moving your lips together until you were gasping for air.

You forget you were even suspicious of him a second ago.

Your fingers lightly trace his jawline and you feel the pricks of his growing facial hair. A small smile plays on your lips as you inform him in a soft tone, "You need to shave." Wriothesley chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. He reaches up to your hand, gently taking hold of it and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your palm. "Is that why you stopped kissing me?" He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No! I find you more.. attractive. Plus it.. yeah, it feels like little needles on my face.” you admit quietly.

Wriothesley presses his face into your neck, his lips tracing soft kisses along your skin. His hands begin roving your body, each touch sending a gentle shiver across your flesh. He whispers quietly next to your ear, his voice low and smooth as he responds, "I'll shave after dinner." The sensations of his lips against your neck and his hands exploring your body mix together, creating a heady combination that heightens your senses and ignites a slow fire within you.

“I'll.. help.” You whisper, bringing both of your arms to wrap them around his back. “What a sweetheart.” he uttered out, voice muffled from trying to mold into your skin.

Your mind stops working for a second when he presses his knee gently between your legs to pull them apart, “Wriothesley, what about dinner?” You frantically ask him, tugging his hair up so both of your gazes could meet. And the almost drunken expression he has on makes you let out a shaky breath.

“later,” he drawls, his fingers tracing lazily along your sides.

Hero? Pftt, what hero? This is just your wriothesley, it's quite impossible for him to be the hero.

You snap out of your daydream when your colleague hands you a cup of coffee, he raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back awkwardly.

A sip of the coffee to get a bit of energy, but only just a bit, since too much caffeine makes you nervous.

“You filmed the crazy battle yesterday?” Your colleague sneaks from behind you, watching the video replay again on your camera.

“they do movies about them now, insane huh?”

“well atleast the hero knows he's popular.” You reply bluntly, taking anothsr sip from your hot beverage.

“flash news, someone heard that his name starts with the letter ‘W’ or som—”

You spit out your coffee all over your white attire. You both exchange surprised looks, but you quickly wipe your mouth using the back of your hand.

“where exactly did you hear that?” You get straight to the point, gesturing them to sit next to you.

“from my father's friend’s cousin sister.”

His reply makes your eyes twitch, from who and who?

“Okay…” you whisper, turning around and thinking of the utter nonsense they spouted.

“you don't believe me.” he sighed, “I've been telling this to everyone in the building but no one is believing me! Just tryna’ do my job here.”

Let's say maybe you believe him. But the dots are connecting too fast that you want to refuse from believing it.

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

“I'm clocking out, can you cover for me today?” You inform your colleague, and he crosses his arms while eyeing you up and down.

Your roll your eyes, “I'll be the cameraman for next week. So you could get three days off.” You force a smile and they smile back enthusiastically.

Wriothesley is definitely home. Earlier than the usual time he'd be back.

Oh, he's asleep on the couch. Leaning back tiredly with an almost stern expression on, but his body seems relaxed.

Now is the time to do anything. Investigate? Go through his things without his permission? That sounded all awful… surely he's not hiding any—

“go search his things.” You furrow your eyebrows when the devil on your left shoulder speaks, it makes you rub your face in annoyance.

Then a sudden white little angel poofs on your right shoulder with a disappointed face, “no, don't do it. He's a little scary when he gets mad. But he'd never betray you!” you feel reassured at it's words and you nod in agreement.

“don't listen to it. He could hurt you if you keep it a secret.” The red devil whispers again and it makes you shiver a bit.

“he would never hurt you.” The angel frowns.

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

“yeah? You're no better than me, you just want that—”

“okay shut up both of you. Shoo.” You brush both of your shoulders off before taking a deep breath to brace yourself.

You'll just search his.. clothes.

You feel guilty once you pocket his jackets and pants in his side of the wardrobe, checking every hidden pocket thoroughly while glancing at the door once in a while to make sure he doesn't wake up.

As your fingers brush against his jacket, you notice an unusual sensation – a cool, metal feeling hidden underneath the fabric. Your eyes widen in surprise as you recognize it to be the form of a gun's handle. A mixture of curiosity and concern floods through you, freezing you in place.

It really is a gun. You study it carefully, turning it around and feeling it's heaviness in your palm.

But you feel your heart run out of your ribcage when two pairs of arms wrap tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shit.

“hi,” he whispers next to your ear, but you're too nervous to even look back at him.

“nice thing you got there.” He muses, and you feel like you're losing oxygen once he tightens his grip around you even more.

“… i just found it.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. Your head hanging too low to avoid his eyes.

“Could've just asked me, no?” He clicks his tongue, almost in disappointment.

“i have it on me because—”

“because you use it for the good, right? Because you're the hero?” Your voice is shaky when you ask, the gun in your hand shaking with you, and you're afraid to drop it.

“hero?” Wriothesley repeats, shaking you gently awake and you gasp harshly, taking in big breaths, your boyfriend immediately trying to soothe you.

it was a dream.

“you were mumbling something about a hero in your sleep. Are you okay?” He asks in concern, brushing a strand off your face. You were sweating too much for your liking.

“when did i get here?” You look around, taking your palms to rub the sleepiness off. “Right when you got off work. You slept on the bed without changing your clothes.”

Oh… so you never checked his clothes. Deciding to just sleep instead.

Your head turns back to the wardrobe, staring at it intently. Could the jacket be in the same arrangement as you found it in your dream? Or will the gun also be there?

“you're going to poke a hole through it if you keep staring.” He stifles a laugh, and you couldn't help but try to smile as well. “Drink up. Slow sips.” He offers you a glass of water, and you hold the glass firmly in your hand.

“so… what was your dream about? Even this hero appears in your dreams? Can't say I'm not jealous.”

“You'll have grey hairs too early from overthinking.” You tease, sitting upright in bed, “oh no, you already do, old man.” you frown, tracing the grey strands along with his black hair. He watches in amusement.

Wriothesley lets out a deep sigh, “give your old man a break. They're a badge of wisdom and experience,” he rests his head on your lap, nuzzling close as you massage his scalp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Breaking news: the ‘’lola” flower shop sets on fire just three hours ago. Our dear hero saves the day yet again, protecting the old lady just in time before her shop explodes. The cause of the fire is still unknown…”

Destruction out of nowhere again. Accidents out of nowhere again.

The voice of the newscaster on the television fades away in this little diner you're in. You drive your attention away from it, instead focusing now on the Polaroid pictures laid out infront of you.

The hero always wore a mask to cover his identity, obviously. But even after watching the countless of interviews he had, the deep tone slightly matches Wriothesley’s voice, or maybe he's changing his tone on purpose. You can see it by zooming in on the video, how he's catching his breath everytime he speaks when he's just sitting down.

Asthma? Nah.

You tap your fingers impatiently on the table, this is not helping at all, and the slightest itch in your brain worsens as the time goes by.

You think about giving up on this, but the possibility of finding the answer on how or why did all of this happen is probably closer to you than you think.

“Bad guys never end with their schemes. Bunch of attention seekers.” The hero speaks on the television, and you hum curiously as the hero salutes the camera playfully before disappearing from the crowd.

Is it possible that there are multiple heros? Working all together in some basement and taking turns to go out and do a better job than the police?

Possibly, and you write down your new theories down on your little notepad.

You check your phone next, Wriothesley still hasn't answered you back from your most recent text to him.

It's nothing to worry about, but the thought that he's busy saving the city is gnawing at you.

Batman?

You shake your head again, gathering your things to stand up from your seat. You should be blunt asking him about it tonight.

It's cold. Colder than usual. Was the air conditioning on? No. But the windows are sure wide open. You look around the living room before closing the windows and curtains from the outside world, as you draw the curtains, the outside world becomes obscured, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

“Wriothesley, honey?” You call out softly, peeking through the bathroom, not there. The bedroom? Nope.

That leaves the kitchen, you slowly peek your head in he kitchen, and sure enough, he was there.

Wriothesley was rubbing his face in exhaustion while mumbling words under his breath that you can't quite hear. Having one singular glass of some drink in his hand.

“hero this.. hero that..” you finally listen to his mumbles, which makes you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Wrio...?" You call out softly, flipping the switch to turn on the light. His sharp eyes immediately dart up to look at you, and you can't help but shiver under his intense stare. You let out a small gasp of surprise as he suddenly stands up, the glass in his hand slipping from his grip and shattering on the ground along with its contents.

Taken aback by his sudden movement, you instinctively take a step back as he approaches you. But before you can even register what's happening, he crashes his lips against yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. Caught off guard, you cling tightly to him, desperately seeking support to prevent yourself from toppling over.

“You love me,” Wriothesley's voice breaks through the heated kiss, his words coming out in a low, guttural groan. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. “right?” His voice holds a hint of vulnerability and desperation, as if seeking reassurance and affirmation of your feelings for him.

And when you don't answer him right away, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently, “answer me.” He almost growls.

“love, what are you taking about? Are you drunk?” You ask breathlessly in concern, your lips feeling swollen.

His jaw clenches, “Why can't you say it?” he inhales your perfume, your scent filling him that it makes him groan, his mouth lavishing your neck and collarbone, leaving kisses and littering marks then soothing the area with his tongue that it makes your pant softly, pressing your face into his hair while your fingers weaving through his black-greyish strands.

“i love you,” you utter quietly, and it suddenly makes him start grinding his hardened length against you. “I'm sorry in advance, sweetheart.”

One minute you're confused about his words, and then the next he's pounding so hard into you like there was no tomorrow.

Strings of “don't leave me,” and “i love you’s,” are echoed in the air. Wriothesley's mouth moves against yours with a sense of urgency and haste, his tongue gliding and tangling with yours in a fervent dance. The bed creaks so loud underneath you that you think it might break anytime, the embarrassment of the headboard banging against the wall immediately gone once he hits your sweet spot rapidly.

Poor neighbors

"Wrio... Wriothesley?” you slowly flutter your eyes open, still in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness. The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, and you blink a few times as you take in your surroundings. A quiet sense of contentment washes over you as you remember the events of the night before, the memories of Wriothesley's body against yours and his lips on yours still fresh in your mind.

You prop yourself up using your elbows, only to look down at the sight of your sleeping lover with his head pressed up on your chest. You collapse back on the bed with a tired sigh.

You still couldn't understand the reasoning behind his.. desperate actions last night. He seemed so pent up and stressed, you'll forgive him this time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It's the day where you're covering for your colleague, being the cameraman for tonight's news. Yes, tonight.

Wriothesley would kill you if he knew you were working so late at night, but only because he cares about your safety. Good thing he's out of the city for a day.

Or he claims to be out of the city for some important work.

You press the button on your video camera, adjusting the lens to focus on the newscaster standing in front of the camera, holding the microphone with a serious expression. The news van is parked in front of a desolate, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime rate and dangerous reputation. The newscaster speaks into the camera, her eyes boring into the lens as she reports on the neighborhood.

“We are now standing in the heart of one of the most dangerous areas in the city. This neighborhood is notorious for its high crime rate and volatile atmosphere.”

Your senses are heightened at this rate and you really try to focus but the moment you hear the faint crunch of leaves, you lose composure just a bit.

Okay you're a bit scared, but as long as your workmates are he—

a group of armed gang members suddenly appear from the alleyways between the buildings, surrounding the news van and the camera crew. The newscaster, taken off guard, gasps and steps back.

The gang members brandish their weapons, circling the news crew menacingly. One of them shouts at the newscaster, waving his gun in the air. “Hold it right there, pretty lady. This is our turf! You ain’t gonna be broadcasting nothing about us!”

You're about to shit your pants for real this time.

“Drop your cameras and get outta here, or things are gonna get real ugly real fast,” he growls, and one of them points the gun right on your camera.

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

Yeah, you're not going to fight anyone and act all big. You simply drop the camera on the ground to raise your hands in the air.

As the gang members close in on the news crew, the atmosphere is suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement. Everyone turns to see a tall, muscular figure approaching from the distance.

It's the hero.

You watch in awe as the hero strides towards the group of armed gang members, his movements fluid and precise. With a swift swing of his fist, he lands a powerful punch on the leader's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other gang members are taken aback by his sudden appearance and the display of force, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. They exchange nervous looks, realizing they're facing a much stronger opponent than they anticipated.

“Hey, let's go!” Your workmate calls for your name. Her hand waving at you so you could all retreat back to the van.

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

The sudden explosion catches you off guard, jolting you out of your stupor. Shouting in surprise, you recoil from the loud blast, ducking instinctively as debris and fragments fly through the air. Your colleague, sitting next to you in the van, lets out a terrified yell as the force of the explosion propels the driver backward. The van shudders and lurches from the impact, the windows shattering and various objects sent flying.

“in the building! Let's go!” All three of you dash to protect yourselves inside this tall company building.

“I will call the police,”

“but the hero is here!” the driver of the van speaks, almost yelling in frustration.

“the hero is also a human. Just a strong one. We can't rely on him—” but before you could continue, you all cover your ears once you hear gunshots come from outside.

Ohmygosh. It’s—it could possibly be Wriothesley who's getting hurt right now. What are even the chances?!

“Fine! Just call the fucking police!” The driver gives up, leaning back against the wall while breathing heavily.

You want to go out there. You want to see. It's your chance to see who the hero is if he got hurt. Just to get the crumbs of news in exchange for your life apparently.

When it grows quiet, you peek outside, “it's clear, I'll take a look—”

“No, you're not.” her hand is firm as she grips your wrist, “just let them go.” He, on the other hand, scowls.

“Be safe!” She shouts at you as you make a run for it, running down the alleyway while looking left and right.

Someone's in the area.

You dart behind the nearby dumpster, heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins. Hiding as best you can, you press yourself against the rough metal, trying to keep your breathing steady and quiet. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, you cautiously scan the surroundings, trying to catch a glimpse of someone nearby. For now, the area seems to be clear, but you can't shake the feeling that someone is in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows.

“Where ya at, lil’ birdie?” You cover your mouth when you hear someone speak, it sends a chill down your spine and you can feel your heart drumming in your ears.

Your sharp eyes turn to your side to find a metal rod, you don't hesitate to grab it before smacking the shit out of the guy.

No that did not happen, but you wish it did.

Instead, the minute you see his feet pass the dumpster, with a swift movement, you grab hold of both of his ankles, using your weight and leverage to pull them out from under him. He lets out a pained shriek as he suddenly loses his balance and topples to the ground, his body hitting the pavement with a thud.

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

Stepping at his hands to hear him cry again, you run put of the place, making turns and finally spotting the hero sitting down against the building wall while panting, seemingly exhausted.

“…” you take slow steps once you approach him, looking down at him with your eyes already glistening.

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

“Ah, what the fuck?” He grunts, the blonde grabbing the mask from your hands and you take a step back.

“Elias?!” You yell out in confusion, it's your colleague that you're covering for supposedly today's shoot.

“You're the hero??”

“not a word. Scram, you freak.” he mutters, eyes diverting away from you and staring up at the roof. “The roof,” he whispers to himself, making the effort to stand back at his knees.

Is this bitch serious? He's the last person you expected to be the hero. With his stupidly arrogant and lax attitude.

You give him an almost death stare, studying his features again before making your way out.

You need to check the other people that were with you.

But when you arrive back at the building, they were gone.

Did the police arrive? You don't hear any sirens. Could they have possibly went up on one of the floors to hide?

You find yourself in the elevator next, watching as the doors close with your hands clasped infront of you nervously.

You take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and steady your nerves. Hey, at least there's nice elevator music.

As the elevator comes to a halt, the doors slide open with a soft ding, revealing the rooftop and the figure standing in the open space.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the building, you can see the person's silhouette clearly now, but you can't make out their features just yet.

Your steps are hesitant as you slowly approach the figure, the wind gently billowing around you. The city lights twinkle below, but your attention is entirely focused on the person standing at the edge of the roof. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come, and call out tentatively, "Hello?”

Your voice rings in the air, that the person's shoulders tense.

When they look around, you're met by the same blue eyes you've known for three years now.

“Wriothesley.” You whisper, in shock, breathlessly under your breath.

He's holding.. a gun? The same gun you remember seeing in your dream.

Something in his mind snaps when you turn around, in fear. Like it was a mistake to ever see him in the first place.

Wriothesley doesn’t even give himself time to think before his body suddenly reacts, suddenly reaching out and circling his hand around your wrist to forcibly tug you back.

He yanks hard enough that you lose your balance and fall against him, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, preventing you from going anywhere.

“W-wrio—”

“think it's time we talk, sunshine.” He speak into your ear.

When you try to move the slightest from his hold, he grips you around him tighter. You figure it's best to stay still for now.

“what? Are you going to kidnap me now?” You manage to chuckle out, nervously though, your voice coming out more shaky than you intended to.

“Is that going to satisfy your little fantasy? What, I should play into it and shove you into a corner, keep you under my thumb until you’re begging me to set you free? Or no… you want to be saved by the hero.”

"You know you're not helping with your case, right? You really sound like the bad guy now.”

You’ve definitely found his breaking point because that comment makes him snap.

Wriothesley suddenly whirls you around so you’re facing him before he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, his body practically covering your own.

“Well…” He whisper, raising an eyebrow calmly in the way you look being at his mercy. “Aren’t I?”

Your jaw practically hangs at his words. Is he... Playing the bad guy now?

Or was he really… not the opposite of the hero?

He sees the shiver you try so hard to suppress and smirks at that, clearly satisfied with your reaction, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Finally realize that the man you’ve been dating isn’t the hero you've obsessing over?” He chuckles.

“i… i knew it—”

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone suddenly becoming cool and firm.

Wriothesley leans forward, pressing into you so that you’re smashed between him and the wall. His hand suddenly comes up, cupping your jaw so that he tilts your chin up to look directly into his eyes.

“If you’d known, you’d never have come within twenty feet of me. You’d never have been alone with me or spent a single night in our bed.”

He's right. And you hate it. You feel betrayed, lied to, even.

It makes you rethink your life choices.

You've gotten too comfortable with him that you didn't even think about him being the villian. You've gotten too close while you were being a complete idiot.

“you hid it.”

Wriothesley laughs, the sound almost sounding cold, “of course I hid it, sunshine. I wasn’t going to just come strutting in wearing a big, red sign saying ‘look at me, I’m a bad guy!’ was I?”

You clench your fists together, “you tricked me.”

“Tricked? No.” He shakes his head slightly. “I simply… left out key details.”

“Why?”

“ah, there it is.” He steps back, giving you space to breath, to recollect your thoughts.

“why? Because the hero isn't a hero. He started all of this destruction. Why? To get fame, recognition, power, and to be seen, to look like he's doing something when he's not.” He lets out all in one breath, and you lips part again.

“four years ago when the building almost fell on you? He did that, on purpose. then saved you to make it look like he's the one that everyone needs.”

What the hell?

“Wriothesley, we were strangers to each other four years ago. How did you know?” You don't hesitate to step closer to get more answers out of him, but he only stares at you.

You swallow thickly when he draws infront of you once again, “i did this all for you, love. I-i will do everything in my power to stop him, i will kill him so you wouldn't get hurt—”

“Okay, fucker. Out of my way,” Elias, the ’hero’, suddenly barks, and without warning, a gunshot rings out. The bullet pierces through Wriothesley's shoulder, causing him to flinch and stagger backwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the scene unfold. "Wriothesley!" you cry out, watching as he turns around despite the injury and charges towards Elias.

Despite the pain he must be in, Wriothesley doesn't relent. Ignoring the gunshot wound, he barrels towards Elias with unmatched determination, closing the distance between them.

"Bastard," Wriothesley manages to grit out as he collides with Elias, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crashing to the ground.

You don't hesitate to rush forward, with adrenaline fueling your actions, you move quickly towards them as they roll dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice filled with desperation. "You'll fall!”

And surely enough, Your two hand clamps down on Wriothesley's, desperately grasping onto anything you can to prevent him from plunging off the edge.

Meanwhile, Elias grips Wriothesley's leg, using his strength to anchor him in place. The three of you hang there, suspended over the city, Wriothesley's body along with Elias’s dangling in the air.

“Sweetheart—”

“shut the fuck up I'm not letting go.” They're both too heavy, the feel of his fingers slipping away from yours increases everytime you try to pull them up.

Elias is purposely pulling Wriothesley's leg down to drop them both, your lips quiver, crying when two of his fingers slip now.

“hey,” his voice is soothing when he calls for you.

“at least… i protected you till the very end, right?” He tries smiling but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

“Wriothesley—!” You gasp harshly when you open your eyes so wide, finding that your hand was already reaching out for nothing.

You rest your hand on your chest before leaning back on your seat.

“are you okay?” The newscaster, the friend you made, offers you her handkerchief so you could swipe the sweat off your face.

“i think… continuesly searching about this, is making you stressed.” She points out, looking at the papers and drawings splayed out on your desk.

More theories of the disappearances of the hero and villian. Not their death. Their bodies were never found.

“it's been a year.”

The realization is like a punch to the gut as you bring a sweaty palm to rub at your temples.

“This is not over.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “We got no more trouble. No more heroic or bad guy news. The world is back to normal, almost like they never existed huh?”

Never existed.

She then suddenly gasps, which catches you off gaurd, “are engaged??” She eyes at the gem resting on your left ring finger.

The ring you found in one of his jacket pockets when you sorted his things out.

“yeah…” you decide to drawl out before sitting upright on your seat.

“now, if you'll excuse me, i got work to do.”

You're never going to stop searching, to find another answer of the question; 'why?'

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.

[dustofthedailylife]

How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101

→ Masterlist || → Taglist -> Next Part

Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: The moment your verdict was decided as guilty you were brought to the Fortress of Meropide - despite being innocent. Little did you know that the trip to prison would make you meet the love of your life.

Tags: Fluff, kissing, you're in prison (but innocent), some violence (not graphic), swearing

A/N: Due to me being utterly normal about Wriothesley I had the idea for this fic - who am I kidding I would commit a crime for this man.

“According to the judgment of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale, the defendant is declared… guilty.”

The voice of Chief Justice Neuvillette was ringing in your ears as he read out the verdict. Your verdict.

You couldn’t believe it. You knew you hadn’t done what you had been accused of, that the eyewitnesses had lied the moment they had opened their mouths, that the evidence had been tampered with, that you had been framed for the crime – but you were innocent. And no one was ever going to believe you. 

After all, the device that had handed you the fateful false verdict was treated as infallible in Fontaine. You now at least had proof that its reputation was nothing but hollow words. But what use was the knowledge other than just a bittersweet confirmation for no one but yourself? 

And before you knew it, guards were escorting you out the back of the Opera Epiclese in handcuffs. Roughly dragging you along with them into a big elevator. Down – deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean.

You had heard stories of the Fortress of Meropide before – the secluded place where all criminals and outcasts of Fontaine resided. The place no one had ever come back from to tell the tale. At least not in one piece.

You weren’t sure how you felt on the way down the elevator but you would describe it as something akin to hollowness.

The glances the guards threw your way out of the corner of their eyes literally screamed disgust. You were nothing more than a dirty criminal to them after all – someone who was to be shunned and banished from society for all eternity. And if you really had done what you were convicted for, you wouldn’t even blame them for their disdain.

When the elevator arrived at the bottom the doors opened with a mechanical hiss. The scent of machine oil, iron, and damp moldy cellars immediately pricked at your nose and it was the exact opposite of what you’d call homely. 

The guards turned you in at the reception, where a rather unpleasant woman took your mugshots before handing you over to yet another rather unfriendly man who led you even further down into the Fortress.

With every new step you took, you tried to come to terms with the fact that the sight of damp, stone, and ironclad walls as well as the lingering industrial smell was going to be your life from now on. 

And the dawning realization of that was painfully pulling a tight rope around your throat. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry and most of all, you wanted to run away and pretend like all of this was a bad dream. But you couldn't.

Instead, you were trodding behind the man who was escorting you and silently began to cry as big beads of tears soon began rolling down your cheeks.

"Crying won't help you anymore, sweetheart." The man remarked almost mockingly as soon as he looked back over his shoulder at your defeated frame. "Should've thought about that before you did some shit."

No. You’re wrong. I'm innocent.

At least that was what you wanted to spit back at him. But it was as if any fierceness or strength to stand up for yourself had left you the moment you set foot into this prison. You simply had no strength left to fight.

You soon arrived in a gigantic circular room. The contraption in the middle almost looked like a giant engine, elevators were going up one level on one side and even further down on the other side of the room. The ceiling was so high up that you almost couldn't make it out at all. The light was dim and the only real light sources were yellow lanterns whose light was bouncing off of the copper-colored iron pipes, crates, and frames that lined the entire room. Gloomy would probably be the best way to describe it.

The pungent smell of oil and damp cellar was hanging in the air here as well and probably even more prominent than it had been before. Only now it was also mixed with what you thought was old sweat and… tea? The smell of the latter seemed oddly out of place and you couldn't make out where exactly it was coming from. All you knew was that it was probably the only pleasant smell you had encountered down here.

Taking the elevator up one level again the man you had been following this entire time led you into a side hallway that looked more like a vent pipe. The dimly lit room that was lying behind it was only furnished with a bunk bed and a barely functioning lantern. He unlocked your handcuffs before roughly shoving you into the room with a smug grin on his face.

"Make yourself at home." He chuckled mockingly before turning around on his heel and leaving while whistling a tune to himself that eerily echoed off the stone walls.

You lay down on the bed, exhaling in defeat. Your throat still felt like someone had painfully tied it shut and tears were dangerously pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

Now what?

You had no idea what to do here aside from sitting your time off. Where do you get food? Were you supposed to work and if yes, where do you have to and when?

You closed your eyes as a single tear escaped from the corner of your eyes, rolling down your cheek, dampening the pillow you lay on. 

All you heard around you were wet droplets falling from the ceiling onto the wet stone floor, distant voices from down below, and your own breathing. The only thing that drowned these sounds out were the thoughts in your head. 

Now that you had a quiet moment to yourself after everything that had gone down today, the realization about your situation was beginning to seep in for good. This bed, these walls, the oily smell… this was going to be the rest of your life now.

And that’s when you broke down and started crying once again.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you knew was waking up to the smell of food wafting through the air vent in front of your room. 

You got up from the bed, took the elevator down, and followed the smell. Soon you found yourself standing in front of a Cafeteria, where fellow inmates were queuing for lunch. Or was it dinner? You’ve barely even been here a day, but the distinct lack of daylight already made you lose track of time.

You sighed and walked over, queuing for some food as well. You didn’t have any appetite but you knew you had to eat something and your grumbling stomach was screaming for food, appetite be damned. Much to your dismay, the food needed to be paid for, well, at least the stuff that looked digestible.

You ordered the only free option and sat down with the bowl of grayish, funky-looking liquid whose consistency was more akin to that of wallpaper paste. It didn’t look appetizing, but at least it was free and would prevent you from starving.

Just as you were about to lift the first spoon of gooey pap in your mouth, someone sat down at your table, making you halt your movement for a brief second. 

He placed his tray on the table with a loud bang before plopping down on the bench right in front of you. His food looked tremendously more high quality than yours. Your mouth began watering from just looking at it. Freshly made roast potatoes with rosemary, fluffy pieces of baguette with salted butter, a big juicy piece of meat – grilled to perfection, and a glass of mousse au chocolat.

He leaned forward, supporting himself on the table with his elbows, folded his hands and intensely looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. It seemed like he wasn’t in a hurry to start eating any time soon.

You pretended to ignore him and began eating. The soup, which could vaguely be identified as lentil soup, left a slimy feeling on your tongue and tasted completely bland. Every fiber of your body told you to spit it back out again but with enough willpower, you actually managed to swallow it. Not without pulling a grimace first though.

“You’re new here.” The stranger in front of you observed with curiosity.

You looked up at him, nodding slowly shoveling another spoonful of goo in your mouth before going back to ignoring him. You weren’t really interested in trying to make connections here. All you wanted was to get out of here again – even though you knew deep down that the likelihood of that was nearing zero.

“Adapting well?” He inquired, still not in a hurry to touch his food.

You suspiciously looked up at him. There was just something about this guy that was off. He didn’t quite fit in here at all. He was admittedly very handsome. He looked well groomed and his attire was way too pompous to be an inmate - or maybe he was some rich guy who got some sort of special treatment down here. Every other inmate was avoiding your table and people looked at him with an almost reverent look in their eyes. If it wasn’t for the scars that seemed to cover the majority of his body already, this just further confirmed your gut feeling to avoid this guy at all costs in the future.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled, eyeing you further with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What do you want?” You asked, now slightly annoyed.

“Just trying to strike up some friendly conversation. You know, seeing how lost you were while ordering food, not knowing about tickets, and just dashing around like a scared blubberbeast, led me to believe that no one gave you a rundown of how this place works. So, allow me?” He remarked with that same smirk.

When you wordlessly motioned for him to continue, he began explaining the workings and rules down here in detail. Unspoken rules, general rules, what and who to avoid, how jobs worked, work times, payment and money, general daily schedule, and a lot more. There was simply so much you were beginning to feel lightheaded as soon as he had finished speaking and you could feel the lump in your throat grow in size with every minute that passed. You would never be able to live here.

“That should about cover the basics.” He finished explaining as you swallowed thickly.

You opened your mouth in order to speak but he swiftly lifted his finger to shut you up. 

“No need to say anything. I know it’s not easy to adapt to a new environment. Especially not one you feel trapped in. But that feeling will fade eventually. Trust me.” He threw you a genuine smile before lifting himself up from the bench and pushing his tray with the food in your direction, pointing at it with an offering gesture.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide.” He said, before striding away.

“Wait-” You jumped up from the table causing him to halt in his tracks and turn around once more. “What’s your name?”

“Wriothesley.”

After this strange encounter with the mysterious and admittedly attractive man, you didn’t see him around for a long while. This came as a surprise because you’d assume someone with his looks and attire would stick out like a sore thumb wherever he went. But it was as if the ground itself had swallowed him.

You wanted to see him again, mostly because you thought you could learn from him for your life down here. And despite your gut telling you that he was a walking red flag you had developed a strange curiosity for him.

You had begun working at the ship dockyard where a big window was offering a view into the ocean. You could somewhat make out the sky and time of day from there and it was the only thing that kept you from going completely insane in here. All you had done was sleep, work, eat, and repeat since you came here. Some people had tried speaking to you and some asked what you were here for, but you didn’t have any interest in conversing with them – especially not after you had tried telling someone that you were innocent and they had just laughed at you. Needless to say, you had no desire to connect with people – although he was the only exception seeing as you were craving to talk to him again, as much as you tried to deny it.

Today you were working at the docks again and found yourself longingly staring out of the large window. Your mind drifted off and you wondered how it would feel to simply swim back up to the surface where your lost freedom lay.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” A familiar voice reached your ears from behind. 

“Wriothesley!”

The man in question walked up to you and came to a halt right next to you. He looked out through the window himself before looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a slight smirk.

“Still longing for the surface?” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. “It never fully goes away but once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

“Is that so?” You ushered quietly, scoffing. You were simply unable to believe him, not when your freedom had been taken unjustifiably. 

“Thank you for the food the other day, by the way. I didn’t have a chance to thank you yet.” You attempted to divert the topic.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved dit off with an unwavering smile. “It is almost time for lunch, have you eaten yet? We could head to the Cafeteria together. My treat.”

“Oh, you absolutely don’t have to, I have enough credits for food now that–”

“Please. I insist.”

And so you found yourself sitting at the table with Wriothesley again, with the most exquisite meal that tickets could buy down here. 

You were surprised he was able to fork over nearly four thousand credits to buy the meals as if they were nothing. And especially since he treated you to such a meal as well, while everyone else down here held onto their credits as if their life depended on it. And of course, you also didn’t miss the stares of the others again when you sat down with your fancy meal.

You carefully eyed the food and then Wriothesley as if you didn’t deserve to be treated to something like this. He looked back at you with a genuine smile as he continued nibbling on his baguette.

“Anything wrong?” He asked with curiosity.

“No. It’s just… why–?”

“Why am I treating you to something?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement as if he had read your thoughts. You nodded slowly in reply.

“You’re interesting. That’s all there is to it.” He admitted with a smirk.

“I’m interesting? Me?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You say that when you’re the one I could say that about. You don’t look like you fit in here at all, you have a truckload of credits to spend, and everyone here looks at you like you own the place.” 

You paused for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’ve been here for a long time already, haven’t you?”

“You… could say that, yeah.” He replied with a chuckle, dipping his baguette into the rich sauce on his plate.

“Why are you here?” You continued prying.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replied with a smug grin before he continued eating.

You couldn’t quite decide if he was a red flag you should run as far away from as possible or if you wanted to get to know him closer. But either way, your first priority for now was not letting the food go to waste so you began eating the heavenly-tasting meal.

A silence settled between you two that was surprisingly pleasant as you both quietly ate with the occasional glace thrown at each other. 

Once you were both done he took your tray with him to put it into the tray cart before turning back around with a smile.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked.

“U-uh… yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” You stammered a bit taken aback, still confused as to why he wanted to hang out with you so much. You were a nobody with nothing to your name – not even a criminal record technically.

“Great. See you tomorrow then.”

And with that, a habit would slowly form. You would meet up for lunch each day and not long after, also for dinner. He often picked you up at the docks and bought a meal for you and only sometimes you were able to deter him from doing so and insisted that you bought your own since you were genuinely beginning to feel bad even if he seemed well off. 

You sometimes sat down for a long time talking even after you both had finished eating. You chatted just about anything and as it would turn out you two seemed to share similar interests. You found out he really loved tea and had extensive knowledge in that regard. And it just so happened that you too were a fellow tea aficionado. Not only that though, you two shared a similar taste in music, books, food, and more. After a couple of weeks had gone by it felt like you had already been friends for the longest time. And much to your surprise, not once had he attempted to ask you why you were here or pried into your private life.

On another such day, you were just heading out of the dormitories towards the Cafeteria to meet up with him. But before you could arrive there someone forcefully yanked you behind some iron crates. You crashed against them with the back of your head with a loud bang, momentarily losing consciousness as pain shot through your system.

"What kinda big shot are ya, huh? What're ya sitting for?" A man yelled at you aggressively. 

As soon as you got a grasp of your surroundings again, even though now extremely dizzy, you saw a big bulky guy with a missing front tooth who was pinning you against the boxes by your throat with an iron grip. He was accompanied by two other, less muscular guys who were staring at you in the same aggressive manner. His lackeys, you assumed.

"I have- I have no idea… what you're talking about." You struggled the words out due to the applied pressure on your vocal cords.

"What're ya here for, asshole?!" The man yelled at you even louder now, a few beads of spit flying right into your face through his tooth gap.

"I… I didn't do anything. I–" You gasped breathlessly as you clutched your hands around the hand around your throat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure being applied to it.

"Bullshit! You don't land here for twiddlin’ ya thumbs counterclockwise. And if the Duke's got the eye on ya already, ya've to be some VIP or some shit!" The toothless man spit on the ground between your feet.

“Duke?” You asked confusedly. 

“Tch, don’t fuck with me here, shut ya trap. Now, tell me. What’ve ya done? Be honest or I might’ve’ta polish your visage a lil’.” He viciously cackled in unison with his two lackeys who were cheering on him.

“I didn’t. Do. Anything.” You bit back through clenched teeth, putting a strong emphasis on each word. And before you were able to react, a stinging pain shot through your system as a fist connected with your face, sending your head flying back against the crate once again.

You immediately began to see stars and could feel your consciousness quickly fade away. The ringing in your ears and the accompanying dizziness from the impact was overbearing everything and all you could make out before you passed out was a flash of white light and pleas for mercy. Then everything faded to black.

The next thing you knew was waking up with a bandage around your head and an intense migraine. You felt like a horde of boars had trampled over you. The omnipresent pain got worse when you instinctively tried to sit up on the bed you found yourself on.

You hissed in pain and immediately felt a pair of big hands push you back into the fluffy bedding.

“Stay.” 

You recognized this voice. You had heard it so often in the past couple of weeks that, despite your delirious state, you had no issue placing it.

“Wriothesley.” You uttered weakly with your eyes still closed.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”

He took hold of your hand with a reassuring squeeze and the feeling of his warmth on your skin made you feel tingly all over and the all-present pain immediately felt like it was being alleviated ever so slightly. Out of all people you were glad it was him by your side.

“What? Where?” You rasped, attempting to slowly open your eyes.

“We’re in a separate room at the Fortress Infirmary. Someone roughed you up real good and you fell unconscious. I arrived just in time to prevent worse. You’ll probably have a nasty bruise on your face for a while and you’ve got quite the concussion as well as a cracked rib. But nothing some bed rest and a good cup of tea wouldn’t be able to fix, hm?” He tried to reassure, brushing a strand of hair out of your forehead.

"Your Grace, here is the medicine you asked for." A guard suddenly came rushing into the infirmary with a small satchel that he handed to Wriothesley before quickly leaving again after a courteous bow towards the man by your side.

You furrowed your brows in confusion at the display of submissiveness of the guard towards a fellow prisoner when you've been treated with nothing but disdain and… wait a minute.

Your Grace. The looks he got from the others during lunch and dinner time. The Duke. It's him?!

The memories suddenly came rushing back to you – how you had been slammed into the metal crates, how the toothless man had mentioned the Duke while threatening you and how his fist had then ultimately painfully kissed your face.

You didn't have all the puzzle pieces to connect everything into a clear image yet but it was enough to feel that there was an epiphany just mere millimeters out of your range.

You startled and sat up on the bed with wide-blown eyes once more as pain shot through you again from the abrupt movement. Pain so bad you thought you would have to throw up for a second.

"I-I… your Grace? The Duke? It's you! He meant you and– who? W-what?! I-I– he threatened me and I-I'm innocent. I don't belong here I–I'm innocent–" You incoherently stammered nonsense because your mouth couldn't match up with the speed at which your thoughts were racing.

Just who was he?

But before you got to properly ask that question a pair of soft lips gently connected with yours, rendering you speechless and cutting off the words that were spilling from your mouth relentlessly like water from a leaky faucet. He squeezed your hand a little tighter while the other gently found comfort on your cheek. Cradling it so carefully as if you're the finest piece of porcelain in the world and could break any minute.

The gentleness of his touch, the warmness of his lips, and the smell of Earl Grey on his breath made your body explode into a sea of fireworks. It wasn't until this moment that you realized you had developed feelings for Wriothesley that went beyond the casual acquaintance you met up with after work for food in the prison cafeteria. It was just that you had been too occupied and lost in your own thoughts about your predicament to realize it.

Your curiosity and cravings to see him more and more often weren’t just born from a place of loneliness. Your heart had craved for him all this time.

Your hands found comfort in his hair as you leaned into the kiss more, prying a low chuckle out of him and you felt him smirk against your lips.

"I know you are." He whispered against your lips when he separated from you again.

"What?" You asked in confusion, already forgetting what he was replying to.

"That you're innocent."

"N-no I don't mean just in this case… I didn't commit any crimes I was sent here despite being innocent I-" 

You didn't even realize you had started crying until he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

"I know." He reiterated firmly.

You looked up in his face and his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity. He must be the first person you ever encountered who didn't see the sentence of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale as infallible and unquestionable.

"How?" You quietly breathed out in disbelief.

"I knew it on the first day I saw you. My beliefs were just further confirmed when I talked to you for the first time. I've been working behind the scenes to get you out of here again ever since." He admitted, wiping another stray tear from your cheek.

That's why he was gone for days after your first meeting and suddenly arrived again behind you at the docks.

"You went above ground?" You rasped, making the question of who he actually is even bigger.

He nodded, taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Is that why he also said you would find out who he is soon enough that one day? But you still didn't know… who actually is he?

"How are you allowed to go out? Who are you?"

"You still didn't figure it out?" He smirked. "I'm Wriothesley. Warden of the Fortress of Meropide." 

And at that moment everything fell like scales from your eyes.

His attire, the looks of other prisoners, the abundance of tickets to spend, randomly disappearing for days, the Duke… the Cryo Vision dangling from his shoulder despite not being allowed to carry any in here.

He was the one who saved you earlier.

He must've noticed your glance because he squeezed your hands a little tighter and reassured you: "They won't ever bother you again. I took care of it."

You didn't dare ask what he meant by that and simply nodded in acceptance.

"I can also tell you that things are going well. I pulled some strings and you might be out of here by the end of the week again with no criminal record to your name."

But what if you actually didn't want to leave anymore? At least not without him.

"Will I be able to see you again?"

A question that spilled out of your mouth before you could properly think about it. But the deafening silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. He rarely left the underground and was occupied down here most of the time so the possibility of you and him seeing each other again was low.

"Certainly." He replied after a while avoiding looking into your eyes.

A white lie. He wanted you to return to your old life again, out of the confines of this prison you had unjustifiably been thrown in. He didn't want to keep you here only for the selfish desires of his heart that he had unplannedly given to you along the way. Maybe he would find a way to be with you once you returned, maybe he didn't – But that didn't mean he couldn't indulge in what you had for the remaining time you were here with him.

And that's when he pulled you closer once more, one hand resting on your waist, gently massaging your skin through the fabric of your shirt while reuniting your lips as if it was the last thing he would ever get to taste.

And maybe, if it was what it took to see him again, you wouldn't mind actually committing a crime.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[writtengalaxies]

could you please do an captain's assistant x head engineer mark?

maybe he tries to get with the reader through the captain?

super fluffy and cute and sweet please :)

Oooh! A non-Captain romance for Engi? Oooh ho ho!

Being the captain's assistant is a bit of a nerve-wracking job. Not just because the captain relies on you to keep track of everything, and not just because it's just as easy to feel as if the weight of anything going wrong is in your hands. Honestly, you're just a personal assistant to the most important person with the most authority in the colony. That's fine. Nothing stressful.

...Who are you kidding, it's incredibly stressful, and really your habit of trying to stay caffeinated to keep up with the stoic, yet constantly energetic captain is a bit daunting. One of the perks, however, is getting to see so much of your crush.

Despite how various crew leads might feel about him, the head engineer is honestly a little dreamy. Strong, confident, with a light in his eyes when he talks about the ship or the stars. His smile is contagious, he manages to memorize everyone's names and what they do, and even if he and Dr. Kelvina fight constantly, he always still had praise for everyone. More than once the captain has given you a little nudge to remind you that you're staring. They always do it with a knowing smile, a soft laugh, and a gentle reminder of what you need to keep track of.

You're pretty sure at this point, the only person who doesn't know about your crush on him is the man himself.

After all, there's no way it could ever work out. Not with how, since cryo-sleep ended, he and the captain were closer, seemed to share something unspoken. You knew that the captain would let him down gently, but things could have changed. If they did, then...well, you'd just be happy he was still nearby. Though, these days, the two of them often spoke very quietly, just the two of them. You could see the way his face would flush at a distance, and how they both checked to see where you were before talking. Like they were trying to spare you of whatever was going on.

That's the conclusion you came to a week ago, and were resigned to trying to get over your crush. This morning, however, you found a little note slipped under your door. You weren't entirely sure who's handwriting it was, but the little poem about your smile made you cover your mouth as you giggled. Over the course of the day, you'd think back to that note and smile, often just out of the blue.

"What's got you so you chipper today?"

The captain smiled, listening to you stumble over the words about you finding the note, and how it made you feel.

The rest of the crew noticed how much more you were smiling, too, and it became a little more infectious. Your smile only faded when you saw Mark talking so excitedly with the captain, reminding you that even in your wildest hopes, it couldn't be him.

The next morning, a new note, but this one was about how your eyes shine when you talk about things you love.

The morning after that, it was a poem about your laugh.

Day after day, another little poem came through, until those stopped...and it was just little confessions, all still in the same handwriting.

I love watching you work. You're so dedicated to your job, it makes me want to be better at mine. I wish you could see how you light up. It's like all the lights in the room dim because you're so bright. Sometimes I wonder if you realize how much you make my day better just by being around. I wish that you'd look at me, and only me. I really want to hold you. Do you daydream about a date with me too? A picnic, just the two of us, no cares in the world. Maybe you like stargazing better?

You've started collecting all the notes in a little notebook, a spare one you keep in your room. They make your heart soar just reading them, and no matter how tough the day way, they make it better.

The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to know who it was. So you got up early one morning, waiting to see the note slide under your door. You didn't even look at the paper before slapping your hand against the sensor, watching the door slide open with your heart in your throat. Who would it be? Who could be this sweet? Who could make you feel this loved without every saying the words?

You blinked, staring at where Mark was crouched, caught off guard by you being already awake. As much as your heart wanted to soar, tears came to your eyes. He hadn't so much as looked at you, had been talking with the captain...

"I. Uh. Good morning--"

"Why?"

That confused him, as he stumbled to his feet. "What?"

"You and the captain--"

"What?" He stared at you before his brain caught up. Eyes wide, the head engineer shook his head, waving his arms. "No! No no no no! We're not--no! I was asking them for advice! And if you liked--! I was asking them about you!"

"...W-what?"

"I. I wasn't sure that you liked me, and I...I got nervous thinking about it, and Captain suggested just. Writing down how you make me feel and. Can...do you want to go on a date?"

You scrubbed away the tears in your eyes as you launched yourself forward, kissing him fiercely. He took a breath as he pulled away, his eyes sparkling like starlight.

"So is that a yes?"

[cluelessatthispoint]

I just saw a video of some cupcakes and for some reason it reminded me of your blog, probably bc of your pfp. Anyways, im not sure if requests are open so my bad if they aren't, but I was wondering if I could ask for something for Yandere Engineer with a reader who is a Soldier from the opposite team. Idk there is something about the idea that makes the worms in my head go crazy, once again sorry if requests are closed hope you have a nice week 👍

I love this! YAY CUPCAKES! Yes, requests are still open! yandere Engie is the fuel that I live off of.

~~~~~~

Battle was always something you looked forward to. It is a good way to de-stress and a great way to earn some money. The way that you can feel every breath you take and how your lungs burn after running for an ungodly amount of time make you feel alive. In a strange sort of masochistic way. It's not necessarily a bad thing to enjoy the feeling of pain. Pain is the body's way of saying "I'm still alive!" But these past few battles...have been rough. On top of the fact that your team lost about three times this week, you've been taken out by an extremely well-placed sentry more times than you can count.

Hearing how the enemy Engineer laughed to himself as you bleed out on the field sent chills down your spine. He placed sentries in all your spots, and he seemed to be only targeting you. The way he smiled when staring at you locked in a fire fight. How he seemed to cock his head slightly to the left as he stared you down in your final moments before respawning...It was unsettling.

But today is a new day. Checking in with the team and making a battle plan was always the best part of the morning. Finally at long last the sights and smells of the battlefield enveloped your senses. The enemy Engineer and his nest being nowhere in visible sight was a comfort.

Running through the warzone you moved with stealth that was more fitting of a Spy. The way your heartbeat within your ribcage felt near painful. You let out a shaky breath that you didn't know that you were holding in. Ducking under a makeshift lean to you moved forward and check your surroundings.

"Thank God that jerk isn't here."

Slowly walking forward, you scan the area then take another few steps then scan the area again. Finally finding yourself in a winding corridor with dark musty walls you make your way carefully towards where the enemy intelligence is stationed.

"Well, hey there Soldier....You going somewhere?"

Your blood freezes in place. Your eyes widen as you recognize the owner of the voice, that familiar rough Texan accent makes you inhale shallowly. Slowly putting your hands up you turn around slowly. The sound of a gun cocking makes fear shoot up your spine. The enemy Engineer slowly walks over to you. The sharp smell of his alcohol on his breath reaching your nose make your stomach turn. He stops walking when you both are face to face and chest to chest. You can feel his body heat through your layers of clothing. His sudden closeness to you makes your face flush slightly. But the feeling of the barrel of his gun pressing into your lower abdomen makes you still.

"Well now, it's good to see my little Soldier so close to my intel."

You glare into his eyes as he calls you his little Soldier. A flare of anger wells up in the pit of your stomach, only the threat of the gun pressing to your abdomen keeping you still.

"What the hell do you want Engineer.." You grit your teeth as you speak. The way his eyes shine with a dangerous glint makes you bite your lip softly. You can't help but feel nervous...like a new wide-eyed recruit.

He chuckles softly and a sudden shot rings out. The sudden noise, and the flash of pain make you yelp out in surprise and pain. White hot pain spreads up your leg and you slump against the wall behind you. Tears fall from your eyes and your breaths are hard and ragged. Staring up at the enemy Engineer through your tears you see him crouch down before you. His face so terribly close to yours. Feeling his moist warm breath ghost over your face you whimper and grunt out each breath with pain.

"Don't worry Darling...I won't kill you. Not today. I just wanted some company for today's battle. And when it's over I consider sending you through respawn."

You huff softly and relax as much as you are able to. You figure that you might as well get comfortable because you won't be leaving anytime soon.

~~~

[mothgodofchaos]

Coffee

Engineer x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 573

It had been many years since the events of the Invincible III. The wormholes, the jumping through, the everything. All behind you, and now here you sit, in your kitchen as your husband unloads the dishwasher. “Wakey Wakey Protocol” now has a new meaning in your household. Instead of being rudely evicted from your cryo pod, it’s now him waking you up gently in bed with a cup of coffee. How you could look into his big brown eyes as they twinkle at you forever, because not even the galaxies you’ve seen and the beauty of space would come near to the wonderfulness and love that was stowed away in his eyes.

You watch as he slowly unloads the dishwasher, sipping on your coffee that he recently refilled for you. Although you were insistent he didn’t need to, you let him do things around the house. It gave him something to do, and as he said, he’d never stop serving his captain as long as he lived. So now you have a himbo malewife who makes you coffee, lines up all your mugs in the cabinet so the design is facing outwards properly, all nestled in a very particular way so they’d all fit. You debated just making a display case for all the coffee mugs he’s gotten you, but he might actually just fall over due to how flustered he’d get. It was always the little comments that got to him. Or the pet names, he had a few favorites in particular. While most people called Marcus just “Marc”, he was your Mars bar, your solarflare, your Engi. He joins you at the table once it’s all done, sitting next to you instead of across so he could wrap his arm around your waist, drawing your head to rest on his bare shoulder, having never gotten out of the habit of wearing the same sleeveless turtlenecks. In his defense, you can agree they’re rather comfortable. It showed off how muscular he was, and he would catch you looking while doing yard work, flexing his arms just a little bit more to get that image to stay in your mind. Your coffee was still warm, holding your hands around the mug, keeping your insides cozy as the cool air nipped at the skin on your hands. He notices how cold you are, wrapping his hands around yours silently. “Cold, captain? Can I get you some more coffee? Anything?” He noses at your neck as you move into his lap. He’s warm, cozy, comfortable, just feels like home. How it feels like no matter where you are in the multiverse, that the two of you will make do with whatever. You just need the two of you. “No thank you, I’m okay. This is plenty.” “Let me know what I can do for you, captain. Please? If that changes?” You kiss his forehead, soothing the worries of your husband. He melts a bit, slumped onto your shoulders. “Always, my solarflare. There’s nothing you can do that won’t make me the luckiest person in the universe.” Marcus blushes hard, hiding his face in your neck.

“You’re just saying that…”

“If I was, I wouldn’t have said “I do” at our wedding.”

“Fair enough, captain~”

The following kiss was long and sweet, tasting like all those cups of coffee, all those moments stolen away together, all the chocolate chip cookies you’ve made.

It tasted like home.