#yourfutureboyfriendwrench

[n0va-c41ne]

"Why don't we ever talk anymore?" (yourfutureboyfriend-wrench)

“You have my number. Nothing’s stopping you from calling.” 

Nothing was stopping her either, in his defense. But, what would she say? After Dedsec went a bit underground, after they’d “won,” they’d all fallen out a bit. At that point in time, felt like everyone was alone. Paired with a stint of depression, and all Vivienne wanted to do was stay in her studio apartment, bright screens staring at her; judging her. 

She was however, unaware of exactly how many missed calls were on her phone. While it was charged and powered on, she couldn’t bring herself to look. Even if it stopped that annoying light, she didn’t want to deal with whatever it wanted to bring to her attention. 

[raymondkenney-blog]

Followed by the great Raymond Kenney, I'm almost faltered. Did you finally caught up with that thing called social media?

Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited. This stuff’s still bullshit, but figured I’d snoop around at it.

[n0va-c41ne]

“So why did I have to punch that guy?” (Yourfuturboyfriend_wrench)

@yourfutureboyfriend-wrench

“Because he was leeching my data! I had to get him to stop running and you were closer. Not my fault you’ve got faster reflexes. Especially when someone yells ‘Wrench, clock that son of a bitch!’”

[n0va-c41ne]

@yourfutureboyfriend-wrench

Wrench looked back at her when she asked for a kiss and smiled under his mask. “How can I say no when you ask so nicely, come here.” He said and pulled her a little closer and pressed his face against hers without taking his mask off.

For one, Vivienne wasn’t expecting that answer; even drunk she was sure Wrench would rebuff her. Her arms slid around his neck when he pulled her closer, eyes shooting open when her lips met leather and spikes. 

Oh. That’s why. 

“Uh-uh, sugar...” she said, one hand moving to the side of the mask, thumb hooking under the edge in an attempt to tug it off, at least high enough to give her access to his lips “Come on, I wanna know what you taste like, just once...”

[n0va-c41ne]

[SMS]: Wrench. Meet me at the Pier. I got something I wanna ask you

@yourfutureboyfriend-wrench

[n0va-c41ne]

@yourfutureboyfriend-wrench

[SMS]: Hey. Hate to ask, but I think you might need to take my running shifts for a while. Shit got real. Be vigilant and stay safe.

[n0va-c41ne]

@yourfutureboyfriend-wrench

“Morning Wrench. You’ve, uh...got something. In your hair. You should probably go rinse” 

It’d been a long night; they’d decided the air felt right to have drinks, watch some stupid videos online and get way too into conspiracy theories. 

And, in Vi’s drunk mind, her hands managed to find tubes of hair dye. Her blue, and a purple she’d been wanting to try out. But, she figured getting some colorful revenge for...disagreeing with her, she supposed. 

It would have been the perfect crime. Had she remembered gloves.

[n0va-c41ne]

@yourfutureboyfriend-wrench

[SMS]: Wrench. Can you come get me from the ER

[SMS]: And don’t tell Marcus.