Wrench x Reader (Watch_Dogs 2)

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Hey, literally no one asked for this, but I fucking love this character so, so much, and I wrote this in my free time, so I figured I might as well post it. This is going to be really long, since it was just over three pages in the original Google Doc. Also, if you follow my other book, the Layton x Reader one, the next chapter might be a little late, admittedly I've been a little busy lately and I'm working on an original story of my own (and as another confession, I was sort of procrastinating on that with this little oneshot right here. Happy reading!

2nd Person POV

Ah, San Francisco springtime, nothing but pouring rain.

You, personally, loved the rain, your immune system, though, seemed to disagree with you.

"Hey, you're not going out again, are you?" Marcus called after you as you stepped towards the staircase, pulling up your hood.

"Marcus, I can't stay in here all the time." You said, eager to drown in the lovely rain—and, admittedly, your aesthetic—despite the telltale tickle in your nose.

"Give her a break, Marcus, I bet she's going home, you know, the one she hasn't even seen in a month." Wrench interjected, lying for you. He knew you weren't going home, you were going to your own little hideout, who cared if it was on a roof out in the rain, you could get into the building itself if you wanted to be dry.

Marcus looked at you, then back to Wrench, who was flashing you a hidden smile, as pixelated karats darted in your direction, his mask creating a faux smile of its own.

"Look, I'm not going to stop you, I'm not your dad. But I'm not gonna help you when you're sick with a triple cold."

"Yeah, whatever."

You put in your earbuds, which were already blaring music, then pattered like the rain up to the exit.

"Wait up!" The robotic voice barely penetrated your wall of song. You took out an earbud.

"What's up, Wrench?" You asked, fiddling with the wire in your hand. Your heart pounded in your chest, and a mixed sense of joy and utter doom settled in your head. You had felt like this a lot, recently, specifically around Wrench.

"Do you mind if I come with?" He asked, his voice shook a bit, you figured it was the fault of his voice modulator.

Beside that, no one had ever been to your spot with you, everybody knew it existed, or assumed its existence, but no one had ever been there with you. You were careful—very, very careful—to make sure that you were never followed when you went there.

But still, this was Wrench.

Without a doubt the person closest to you for the past two years. You trusted him.

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah..." You surprised yourself, "Yeah, you can come with."

His mask flashed happily, "Awesome! Can I..." He didn't finish his sentence, but motioned with his arm.

"Yeah," You giggled, and he hooked his arm with yours, and you walked out of the headquarters like you were headed for Emerald City.

The rain poured, the sensation thudded on your skin, dulled by the thick hoodie, you took a breath of the clear air, loving the way it got when it rained, like breathing in a crystal.

Wrench, on the other hand, didn't share your enthusiasm, and frankly, didn't get it at all. But he seemed to be holding his tongue, because an angry, possibly annoyed, expression crossed the LED display of his mask.

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