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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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Sniper/Medic Fusion Draft from yonks ago

Remember the other day when I reblogged some tf2 fusion art talking about how I was going to do a sniper/medic one a long, LONG time ago?? Turns out I had done a rough draft, and I STILL HAVE IT!

Yes, it's old (from 2020 WOW) and a little cringe, but my god is it charming. Also, you may notice some... familiar descriptions. I have a habit of copying my own homework lmao

*throws this into the universe*

CW: Canon typical violence/blood

He had been firing rounds at the BLU team from what he believed to be a discrete spot from beside a rock. ‘’C’mon luv, jus’ pop out’a cover for me, a tic’s all I need ta blow ya brains out…’’ He mumbled under his breath as he waited for a cautious engineer to leave his nest. The sniper sucked in a breath when he saw the yellow hard hat and—

A brief reprieve in the sounding explosions allowed Mick to hear the subtle thump of footsteps from behind him. They were light, cautious and sneaky. A spy, most likely. In one swift motion, he spun to face the backstabbing Frenchman and drew his kukri, the blade gleaming in the sun. But instead of a masked man holding a butterfly knife, he was greeted with a deranged medic clutching a bonesaw and grinning madly from ear to ear.

Every man on this battlefield knew that when a man like the medic smiled, it was bad news.

And in this case, it was like the grim reaper was knocking on his doorstep.

Mick was shoved against the very stone that was keeping him safe just minutes ago. The German stepped closer, pinning the Australian against it and a low, throaty chuckle escaped him. Mick squirmed and writhed but it did no good. A rough hand was on his chin, tilting his head up to face the sun. He felt cold steel on his throat, pressing hard enough for the serrated edge to cut his skin. He swallowed dry as he anticipated the final slice across his neck.

His death came in a very different form.

The bushman heard a strangled sound from the medic and the vice grip on his head vanished. He heard the clatter of the bonesaw being dropped. He looked down to see that the German had been impaled by the blade of the eyelander. His eyes followed the ruler of the blade, searching for the tip of the sword.

It was then when Mick realised that the end of the blade had plunged into his stomach. The two of them were skewered on a sword like a human kebab stick.

‘’You’re going to die too...’’ The doctor wheezed, realising this too. Blood spilled from his lips as that sinister smile returned. His pearly whites had been stained red. ‘’It’s a shame zhat I’m stuck vis you for zhe whole affair!’’ He laughed breathlessly. Mick couldn’t find the situation humorous, how had a strike intended for the medic hit him too? How could a sword pierce a member of the opposite team, then a member of the owner’s team? It didn’t make any sense.

All coherent thought began to fade as his blood dripped onto the dusty ground beneath them.

The medic coughed and brushed a cowlick out of his face with a gloved hand, smearing his own blood on his face and definitely doing more harm than good. It was odd seeing the man in person, rather than through a scope. He had never been close to him, now that he thought about it. With the rest of the other team, there had been times where he had to fight them off with his kukri, but not this man – not until now, at least. The man was angular with high cheek bones. He wore rounded glasses and had cold eyes that could probably freeze water with a glance. His lips were thin and lacking a cupid’s bow. Contradicting these intimidating features were eyelashes that Mick could only describe as akin to a camel’s; long and fluttery.

‘’You’re gonna die first, nurse.’’ He sputtered out.

‘’Ve’ll die togezher. Zhe sword impaled us bozh, dummkopf.’’ Even with a sword through his stomach, the man felt the need to be a know-it-all smartass.

‘’Fuckin’ wanka.’’ He hissed through his teeth, trying not to scream as the searing pain burned through his body.

‘’Ja, ja…’’ He sighed. ‘’Same to you.’’ He replied unenthusiastically. His breaths were shuddery and weak. Mick knew he was fading too as his vision was darkening, indicating that it was nearly over and that he’d awake in the respawn room as if the whole experience had been a dream.

Mick looked to the medic as his vision blurred. The smartass had been right.

***

He opened his eyes. The lights of the respawn room hit him like a rock being pelted at his face and he had to shield them whilst they adjusted. He sighed in relief, knowing that nightmare was over. He laughed to himself, thinking of just how absurd it had all been.

He didn’t recognise his voice. It felt foreign in his throat. It didn’t belong to him. It didn’t belong to anyone. It was the laugh of a stranger.

‘’Zhat vas—‘’

‘’Who in the hell—‘’

Two opposing internal voices clashed, hearing each other was more of a shock than the stranger under his skin.

‘’Zhere seems to be more voices in my head zhan usual.’’

‘’I think I’ve lost the fuckin’ plot.’’

A loud and desperate cry for a medic caught his attention, by instinct alone he fetched his medigun from the resupply cabinet and stepped toward the metal gate of respawn.

It didn’t respond to his presence and he walked right into it like a clumsy idiot.

‘’Fuckin’ piece’a shit.’’

‘’Strange… perhaps it doesn’t recognise me?’’ He kicked it in a mix of curiosity and rage. Nothing happened. ‘’I suppose ve should actually acknowledge zhis?’’

‘’Why are ya in my head, doc?’’ Mick hissed.

‘’I don’t know, vhy are you in mine, herr sniper?’’ There was a pause in the onslaught of thought. It gave the scientific side of the medic some time to hypothesise what had occurred. ‘’Vhat if it vasn’t a matter of you being in my head or myself in yours? Vhat if ve are bozh occupying a space zhat belongs to bozh of us?’’

‘’You literally jus’ said the same fuckin’ thing twice.’’ Mick groaned, then realised what he’d said.

‘’Mick, I need a mirror.’’ The doctor stated hastily.

‘’Why?’’ The marksman paused, realising what the medic had just said. ‘’Wait, how do you know my name?’’

The doctor chuckled boyishly. ‘’You thought it and zhus I heard it.’’ He said smugly. ‘’My name is Sven, if you didn’t catch it already. I think zhat if ve are going to be here togezher ve may as vell share names… And as for zhe mirror, you’ll have to vait and see, quite literally.’’

He browsed through the resupply closet, searching desperately for anything that had a reflective surface. He found an old makeup mirror right down the bottom. Odd for how it had ended up there among nine men, but it was certainly reflective. He held it at an angle where he could see himself. Shock and confusion rippled through his system like an earthquake.

‘’FUCKING CHRIST!’’

‘’Zhat’s a fair vay to put it. Zhis raises so many questions!’’ The doctor cried excitedly. He felt warm and tingly just thinking about investigating this strange phenomenon.

It seemed that they weren’t just sharing a headspace, but also a body. It didn’t belong to either of them, but rather, seemed to be a strange amalgamation of both. He had inherited Mick’s dusty brown hair, but had the greying sides of the medic. The most noticeable thing was the piercing blue-green eyes. He had a bony face, only exaggerated further by the high cheekbones. He smiled when he noticed that those girly lashes had carried over along with Mick’s cupid’s bow. He appeared younger but also older. He’d inherited the smile of the doctor, that was malicious no matter the situation. The frightening grin was worsened by the presence of Mick’s pointed canines that made the man look outright monstrous.

Curiously, despite having a new body, he didn’t have new clothes. The sniper’s red shirt was still on and the doctor’s coat was tied around his waist. The long gloves were absent and had been replaced with the sniper’s own. He was wearing jackboots and slacks and he wondered how it all fit so perfectly still, despite a change in frame. He looked a lot bonier than before in some respects. His hands had thinned out to be almost skeletal and his body had retained most of its scrawniness. He was a touch bigger thanks to the medic’s more brawny physique but it hadn’t done much.

‘’Ooh, I vonder vhat blood type ve have… I vonder if all zhese organs are mine or if some of zhem are yours.’’

‘’Jus’ hope we don’t have my bladder.’’

#tf2 #teamfortress2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 fusion #tf2 fusions #bushmedicine #snipermedic #sniper/medic #medic/sniper #medic x sniper #fusion #cringe #i am cringe but i am free #popitdontdropitwrites

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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Engiespy Week (2022) Day 7 -"Dress Up Free Space"

Also available on Ao3 here

This one has to be my favourite of the lot.

Long before technology could imitate the art of disguise, Spy had worn all matter of skins and suits, be it the pungent rags of the poor, the usefully unmemorable clothes of the everyman, the inconspicuous uniforms of many, many organisations and perhaps most enjoyably, the ridiculously lavish fur coats of the rich. Every persona required a masterful understanding of how one should present themselves and the matching skill to carve a new, convincing identity. The tech neatly hidden within his cigarette case made it far too easy, too quick, so much so that anyone could take his role with minimal training. It made him replaceable, disposable, even. His skills had aged with him and now, lied on the bleak precipice of obsoleteness and someday, they may fall into obscurity forever.

But admittedly, it was not the grandeur and nostalgia of the old ways that made Spy miss them, rather, it was the restrictiveness of the new. He had a set of templates, predesigned by someone other than himself. His wardrobe, so to speak, had been limited to just a few outfits, unable to be altered and reimagined. He played the same roles, over and over, reciting all the same acts with fading passion, like a marionette on the strings of an unimaginative puppeteer.

In this endless war, he could only grasp at fickle illusions that crumbled at the slightest touch. He did not live in the life he adorned himself in. It was a mere projection, a trick of the light and a lapse of the mind. It was not anything close to the skin, cloth and very make of another, fleshed out with deliberate posture, rehearsed speech patterns and memorised history. He did not learn how to carry himself with an air unlike his own because there was no need for it any longer. He was the same forever, and while yes, he enjoyed his own form, he so missed the carefully constructed masks of his own design. He had been trapped, locked into one face, one name, one voice, one profession, one life… he was so much more.

Dorian pined for the thrill of browsing through countless stores, bartering with street merchants, and consulting specialised tailors all to design a new version of himself, one that would only ever be a fleeting fantasy, or often, a nightmare. Strand by strand, hair by hair, inch by inch, he spun himself a new face, just as a spider weaved itself a web, similarly designed to ensnare an unsuspecting victim. He had spent countless hours before mirrors of all shapes and sizes, slowly transforming into someone else, and yet, himself.

But despite his desire, he hesitated, suitcase clutched tightly in his hands. He feared that he had forgotten how to create his disguises after so much time without them. The thought of turning back rose within him like a mist laden with doubt.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Dell.”

The man he loved looked at him with such understanding and patience that it hurt. “Don’t be shy now, you’ve been doin’ this your whole life. Sure, you’re not gonna kill me with it – at least I hope not – but you’re gonna be gorgeous, I just know it.”

He couldn’t help but wonder if he would continue to be so calm once he saw the end result. “You are sure that this is okay?”

“Yeah, Dorian, whatever you’re plannin’ on, I don’t mind. I just want to see ya happy.” He placed his hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring pat. “Go on, now, I’ll be waitin’ for ya.”

“You may be waiting for some time.” He muttered, entering Engineer’s bathroom.

He closed the door behind him, going so far as to lock it to ensure his privacy, though Dell was not the type to barge in. He placed the case on the countertop, running his hand over the smooth, luxurious leather, comforting himself with its familiar texture. He did not dare to open it just yet, as he felt as though he was not ready for what awaited him, despite having already chosen his own poison for tonight.

With great reluctance, Spy undid his tie, shedding the first and perhaps the most important part of his own skin. Relinquishing his own appearance had always been the most difficult part, simply because of the consequent nakedness. Without his tasteful choice of formalwear – his source of pride – he was nothing. Regardless of the fact, he pressed on, gently shrugging off his suit jacket, hanging it off a nearby hook. He unbuttoned his shirt, which he folded next to his tie, shuddering under the cool air as he undid his belt and stepped out of his pants. Now undressed completely and by extension, utterly and devastatingly vulnerable, he looked to the mirror, to the blank canvas captured within the glass prison.

Oh, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

He picked up one of Engineer’s razors, switching out the abused blade for a fresh one. He examined his face, poking and prodding the stubble on his face. Though it was still relatively smooth and nowhere near as prickly as Dell’s, it was not acceptable for a night like this. He washed his face, applying shaving cream to his skin and with the steady hands of a surgeon, gave himself the cleanest shave he had in years. He preened himself thoroughly, ensuring he was the very picture of perfection, like a bird preparing to woo his mate.

His paintbrushes were ready to meet him, they only needed his skilful hands to guide them.

With trembling fingers, he unclipped the two golden latches on the sides of his case, slowly lifting the lid. Inside, a dress of exquisite black velvet awaited him. Its nightlike darkness had initially appealed to him, but in this moment, it had become terrifying, like the deepest, most silent void – unknown, unexplored, and alien.

He feared what Dell would think. This secret pleasure of his often came across as a sick perversion, a depraved desire beyond redemption, but it was not quite like that for Dorian. This was innocent, pure, like doves and white blossoms.

He only wanted to be pretty.

Spy stepped into his stockings and tugged the translucent fabric over his thighs, securing them with garters. He then eased himself into the dress, taking great care not to damage it as he pulled it up. Unlike an ordinary suit, it restricted him in favour of its staggering beauty. He had this evening gown imported from France, preferring this particular style than those worn here. It went down to his ankles, only showing skin above the chest and fitted his form, flaunting it. He began to tie the concomitant silk stole around one of his shoulders. He remembered the steps, but his muscles did not. He attempted and failed several times before he could get it to properly coil around him and slant down his chest with the long tail draped elegantly over his bare arm. Only then did he glance in the mirror, towards the half-complete portrait of himself. He was still imperfect, but he could see glimpses of who he would become.

He put on the matching heels, which felt rather small compared to his typical dress shoes. Like the dress, they were sleek and elegant, with tall, thin heels that clacked when he walked, almost like snapping one’s fingers to demand the attention of another. Despite being a small addition, they made him feel far more complete. But that was not to say that he was finished just yet. No, poor Dell would be waiting for some time.

He opened his makeup case, displaying a full, glorious collection of concealers, foundation, eyeliners, mascara, lipstick, and brushes. Though the process of beautifying himself was strange and clumsy at first, with time and a few do overs, muscle memory stirred from its long slumber, making it feel like second nature once more. Before this war, these had been as valuable as any blade, due to his ability to play the fairer sex just as easily as he did the other. All men had their weaknesses, and surprisingly often, a refined, exotic woman was one of them – the perfect excuse to indulge himself and experiment with skirts, dresses, blouses, and lingerie.

He was in the midst of applying his lipstick when Dell knocked on the door. “You done yet?”

“Patience, labourer, I am almost finished.” After lining his eyes with complimentary wings, he slipped his fingers into his black gloves, pulling them all the way up to his elbows and straightening out any creases in the material.

He stepped back, giving himself a full view of the stunning creature he had become. He placed a hand to the mirror, in awe as a fluttery high flooded his mind. He had forgotten this feeling, the bubbling excitement, the rush of satisfaction, the fulfilment of shedding who he had been, if just for a moment. He examined his face, in awe of how it all worked to hide his age and bring out his best features. And though his heart raced in his chest, he did not feel shame or fear, because this seemed right.

Dorian took in a deep breath, unclicked the lock and opened the door to meet his audience. Engineer froze, and Spy waited for him to turn away in disgust, but he merely stared, open mouthed and in awe. Colour rose on his charmingly pudgy cheeks at an alarming rate, so much so that he thought the poor man might faint. He sputtered, attempting to speak, but his tongue got caught on his words.

“I-I didn’t know you were…” Was all he could muster. “G…Good lord.” He breathed, his fingers knotting the sheets of the bed, steadying himself.

His reaction made it all worth it. He would not be forgetting this night, not ever. “Would you believe me if I told you that I used to do this as part of my work?”

He tugged at the collar of his shirt, playing with it as his eyes wandered all over him. “Call me crazy but you’re makin’ me jealous of those sons of guns ya assassinated.”

“You shouldn’t be, Dell.” Like this, his voice seemed to mesmerise his partner as it walked the fine, glittering line of androgyny. “This part was only ever a lure.”

“To hide your knife comin’ right for ‘em?”

“Or the poison in my handbag, the derringer in my stocking, the garrotte in my brassiere…” He trailed off, grinning devilishly at the memory. “Rest assured, I have no such things on my person.” Spy stood over Dell, his tone changing slightly. “You may check if you would like.”

He laughed nervously, looking absolutely delicious in his flustered state. “Naw, there’s no need for that… I trust ya, Dorian.” His tone, oh, how it sung to him with its sweetened, unfaltering faithfulness. It was only ever like this that he heard that deeply trusting inflection, not unlike that of songbirds professing their undying love to the morning sun.

He placed a single heel on the bed, causing the hem of his dress to ride up his leg, just enough to get his lover’s attention. He leant in closer, effectively entrapping Engineer. “You are such a fool.” He whispered, his gloved hands cupping his chin. “Now, I have you exactly where I want you…”

His lips met Dell’s, and he felt different even to himself; gentler, sweeter, poisonously tender. There was a hunger to his administrations, but like death, it was patient. Engineer was not, and kissed him hard, desperate to convey just how much he adored this new side of him and that he wanted nothing more than to explore it with him.

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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Engiespy Week (2022) Day 4 - "Angst Day/Opening Up"

Also available on Ao3 here

CW: Blood (Not graphic)

This is sort of a prequel to Day 3 with previously mentioned events taking place here.

Dorian sunk to the bottom of the tank, drawing full, nourishing breaths for the first time in hours. Blue blood billowed through the water, rising like smoke from his wounds, attempting in vain to hide his weary form from his tormentor. His tentacles, exhausted, abused, and dry, floated sluggishly, unable to find the energy to grasp and prod at anything at all. He curled up tightly, clutching himself for comfort, allowing the water to wash away the fresh aches and pains.

A rude, gloved finger tapped on the glass, attempting to get a reaction out of him. “Herr Spy~!” A shrill voice sung.

Through irritated, burning eyes, he mustered the courage to look through the glass, to spitefully meet the icy blue eyes obsessively watching his every move.

“What’s the matter? I didn’t go too far today, did I?” He said with insultingly artificial sympathy. “I would never do that to you.” He failed to hide the smirk on his lips.

Dorian desperately fought his instincts, as to not give Medic the pleasure of a reaction, but they overpowered him, forcing an animalistic hiss from his lips.

And oh, how the doctor mocked him for it. It stung far worse than the countless incisions in his skin. “There you are… And here I was thinking that you might be in need of another injection! How silly of me.” He giggled cruelly. “It seems that you are progressing nicely.”

Every word from his made him want to plunge a knife into Medic’s back, pop a round through his temples, strangle him and tear into his throat until he stopped laughing. A low churr sounded from his throat at the thought of warm, flavourful flesh squirming under his fangs. He licked his lips, a movement that did not go unnoticed by his captor.

“Hungry, hm? That must be why you are so grumpy…”

Yes, God, yes, food. He nodded quickly, begging for something to eat.

“Very well, but only because you have been so good for me today.” The doctor opened the laboratory’s refrigerator, pulling out a tub full of fish and meat scraps. Though it was not nearly as good as live prey, Dorian was still glad to be fed, it almost made enduring every second of Medic’s experiments worth it.

The lid of the tank opened, and as per routine, Dorian remained completely still at the bottom of the tank, like a prisoner in a cell. Even when his supper fell into the water, slowly sinking down with its delicious smells flooding his senses, he sat still until the lid closed once more. He wiped his mouth by force of habit, though no one would see him drooling. He propelled himself upward with his tentacles, hungrily snapping up every morsel, uncaring for the scales or the bones hidden within them. He ate without a shred of his usual care or dignity, opting to instead devour it all like a raging beast. Observational eyes rested on him, but as pure instinct took over, he forgot all about them for just a moment. He gobbled up every scrap, leaving nothing behind.

But even so, he was not satisfied.

Dorian slammed against the glass, his hands and tentacles outstretched towards Medic, suckers and claws alike pressed to the walls. He snarled, his teeth bared, and his pupils dilated, his appetite gnawing at his unfilled belly, demanding more.

“I’m so terribly sorry, my dear experiment, but that is all I have for you tonight.” He said with a guiltless shrug. “There will be more tomorrow, after our usual examinations, of course.” Medic snickered, flicking off all the lights. “Sleep well. You will need it!”

The door closed behind him, finally granting Spy some time alone.

He shook his head, snapping out of his trance. He shuddered, gagging at the taste of raw flesh caught between his teeth. His thoughts, once appealing and irresistible, had rotted away in his sobriety, into madness itself. He swore that such depraved, bestial thoughts were not his own, but he heard the cries for more meat, sinew, and bone in his own voice. No matter how much he tried to argue with himself and pretend that he was still human with thoughts of fine wine, lavish cuisine, tailored suits, and beautiful lovers. he was ultimately nothing more than a monster trapped within a cage. As time passed, his thoughts would decay into dreams of salt water, live prey, bare breathing skin and mindless copulation.

Dorian sunk all the way back down, wishing he could drown. But alas, cool water flowed past his gills. Normally, breathing was effortless, unnoticed, even. Now, in the shallow confines of his tank, he missed the sensation of air passing through his sinuses, flowing into his lungs and the slow rise of his chest. He closed his eyes, waiting for time to pass him by, until he was subjected to Medic’s experiments all over again.

He wasn’t sure how much time had ticked by when the door creaked open, just slightly.

Dorian snapped awake, his entire body tensing as he sharpened his vision, seeing through the dark in stark black and white. His tentacles lifted in the water, jutting outwards like spears, ready to strike. Upon seeing the small, round man approaching the tank, he relaxed in an instant, letting out a relieved purr. Only in this sterilised, gleaming hell did he realise just how much he missed Dell.

He jolted to the top of the tank, raising his head above the water, allowing himself to speak. “Dell,” He tried not to sound too excited, though his hearts were all pounding in his chest.

“Howdy, Spy. I’m sorry I couldn’t’ve come sooner… I didn’t want anyone seein’ me.”

“All is forgiven. Though it pains me to say it, I am glad to see you, labourer.”

“Come on, you don’t need to pretend not to like my visits.” Dell said, smiling a little. “I know ya do. Partially ‘cause I feed ya better than the doc, and also because you get pretty damn bored in here.”

“Despite going on about providing me with enrichment, our docteur does little of the sort.”

“I’m gonna give him a good whoopin’ for how he’s been treatin’ ya.”

“Do me a favour and use your prosthesis.” He snorted at the mental image.

Dell stood by the glass, placing a hand to it. “I reckon I will.”

Dorian couldn’t help but notice the plate in his other hand. “What do you have there?”

“I managed to talk Sniper into givin’ me some of his catch.”

“How? You don’t exactly have a silver tongue.”

“You don’t wanna know.”

He shot him a curious look. “I believe I do.”

“Naw, son, ya don’t.” He inputted the code into the lid of the tank and opened it. “Just take the fish, yeah? I cooked it just how ya like it. Forgive me if a few of your fancy bits and pieces are missin’.”

Dorian lifted himself up so that his upper half was no longer submerged. He outstretched his hands, gladly taking the plate and the accompanying cutlery. “Merci.”

He appreciated the effort that went into this, despite Engineer’s poor understanding of fine food. He had put his heart into it and used his instincts to make something decent for it, and that deserved some respect, though Spy rarely offered it. He enjoyed it, sincerely. Dry, delicious food that tasted of anything, but raw, unpalatable death was a wonderful change. He took his time, despite the insistence of the beast within that he devour it all as quickly as he could, so that no one else could steal it from him.

“I…” Engineer mustered weakly.

“Speak up.”

“I was thinkin’ about gettin’ ya out of here.”

“Out?”

“Y’know, out into the sea. It’d be a heck of a lot better than bein’ in here.”

“Don’t be absurd. I am not an animal. I do not need to be tossed into the wild to be… happy.”

“But you ain’t exactly happy in here, are ya?” He scratched at the back of his neck.

He fell silent for a moment. “Build a bigger tank if you want to see me happy.”

“Honey, that’s not the problem here and ya know it.”

“Don’t honey me. I don’t—”

“—Quit it with the self-pity already, it’s not you.”

His pupils shrunk into pinpricks. “Oh, it’s not? I would like to see how you would act if you were turned into a répugnant monster.” A snarl entered his tone, and he leant in closer, his talons extending from his fingertips.

Dell stepped back, a flash of fear crossing his features. “He’s changed you again, hasn’t he?”

Dorian’s form, once tall and defensive, shrunk into nothingness. An apology for lashing out lied on his lips, but he lacked the strength to utter it. “Late last night he gave me another one of his injections. I… I fear it has already taken effect.”

A sadness seeped into Engineer’s features. “Jesus…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t’ve brought any of this hard stuff up.”

“Non, non, it’s alright.” He desperately tried to reassure him by petting his cheek. “It is only natural to want to free me.”

“Think about it, okay? I only want to make ya happy.”

“Hush, I don’t want you to worry.” He leant down over the tank, tilting Dell’s face up to meet his. “You make me happy.” Dorian kissed him just once on the lips, not daring to linger in fear of what he might do to him by mistake.

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 11

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

CW: This one is a dark one. It touches upon potentially triggering and upsetting topics. (Gaslighting, past medical trauma, manipulation, emotional pain so on so forth.) Tread carefully, or avoid reading if you have to.

“Sit down, Joseph.” Dell said, his fingers impatiently tapping against the table, betraying the patient, worried expression on his face. “There’s a little somethin’ we’ve got to talk about.” He let out a long, tired sigh. “…I think you know what it is.”

“I have a feeling, yes.”

Joseph, by all accounts, had slept wonderfully, but now that he was awake, he longed to fall into the world of dreams, where nothing could harm him, not even this. His legs resisted every step, demanding that he stop and turn around before it was too late, but despite it all, he made it to the table. He stood uncomfortably behind his seat with his hands resting on the backrest, looking towards his partner, begging for an end to this oppressive, dreadful quiet between them. Silver eyes, once dull with endless kindness, had been set alight with a dangerous, volatile gleam, further stressed by the heavy bags under his eyes, as if he had not slept at all.

It had been made more than clear; Joseph would be the one doing the talking, the justifying, the repenting. “This is about Misha, isn’t it?” How long had he spent with that name on the very tip of his tongue, on the very precipice of being spoken? It flowed out oh so naturally now, as if he had uttered it hundreds of times before and would soon be spoken thousands more.

Dell continued to stare, the shapes and colours of his pupils becoming too much to bear, as if they were closing in on him, entrapping him in chains. “This is all about him.”

“I thought you would have been happy for me. You must have known that my memory was – and still is – affected… does it really bring you no joy to see me coming back to my former self?”

“Not when you’re thinkin’ about another man.” The tapping stopped, and its absence was almost as hurtful as the Texan’s growl. “You’ve been drawin’ him all night and day, fawnin’ over him like you’re sweet on him… and you say you don’t understand why I’m losin’ my temper?”

“He’s merely my friend! I am allowed to have that, aren’t I?” He snapped back. “But then again, I suppose not, seeing as you didn’t even think to remind me that Misha existed.”

“It was better that way ‘cause I didn’t have to stay awake at night worryin’ that he’d take you from me.”

“Dell, please, it’s not like that and you know it.”

“You think I’m crazy, do ya?” The Engineer’s grip on the table tightened, drawing a pained groan from the wood. “You’d run off with him in a heartbeat, I can see it in your eyes.”

“I love you too much to throw it all away with someone else!” He pleaded, the accusation hitting him under the skin, deep into a nerve like the head of a well-aimed arrow.

“Then just forget about him. He doesn’t deserve you.” Dell stood up tall, meeting his level, his posture tense with almost animalistic rage, as if he could lunge at any moment.

Joseph doubled down, despite his every instinct begging him to simply submit. “I… I haven’t seen him in months, Dell. I can’t hurt him like that any longer.”

“Oh, ain’t that cute, you don’t wanna hurt him. Let me tell you a secret, darlin’, he hurt you.”

His heart fell into his guts, kicking and screaming on the way down. “I know him. He could never do so much as lay a finger on me. You can’t say the same.”

“You don’t wanna go there, boy. Don’t you dare make this about me.” He warned him through both gravelly tone and austere expression that such a terrible assault would not go unreciprocated.

“Or what, Dell, you’ll pump me so full of drugs that I can’t sleep? Or maybe you’ll rip both of my arms off this time?”

A crackling, crunching sound erupted from the gunslinger as it crushed the corner of the table, the shards passing through its robotic fingers like dust. Dell did not seem to notice, not even when a flighty gasp escaped Joseph’s lips. “Everythin’ I’ve done was for your own good!”

“Tell me how the totally unethical and lest I forget, completely unmedicated amputation was for my own benefit? There were so many risks and potential complications, but you did it anyway, without training, without anything at all but your own ego to guide you.”

“I was fixin’ you!”

“I am not one of your fucking machines! I am a human being; I don’t need to be fixed.”

“Joseph, you’re not hearin’ me. He was the one to break ya in the first place.”

“I’m not going to allow you to fill my head with lies again. I—I am not turning against the man who has done nothing but help me!”

“I don’t care what you think you remember, but let me tell ya, you’re wrong about him.”

He swallowed thickly, his throat closing up. “There is a lot still missing, but I remember Misha completely – his laughter, his smile, his voice, it’s all there. Not once did he harm me in all of our years together.”

“Darlin’, it’s not me who’s lyin’, it’s that pretty little head of yours.” He said. “You don’t remember, do ya?”

“Remember what, exactly?”

His gaze lost its firmness in favour of an inexplicable sentimentality, but the latter was far more frightening due to the pity hidden in his glistening sclera. “That damned hospital.”

He blinked, once, twice, static undulating behind his eyes, cold, dry, and hypnotically dull like the depths of space. Faintly, from a distant star, he recalled the pricks of needles, the fizz of dissolving, bubbling powder on his tongue, the metallic taste of tools, all of which promised an end to his pain.

“You kicked, screamed and begged, but it didn’t matter. Misha dragged you right to ‘em, right where he wanted you; in a cage, like some kind of fuckin’ animal.”

Joseph weakly stumbled back, his body colliding with the wall, slowly shrinking towards the ground, unable to fight back against remembrance’s onslaught of voices, yellowed and faded with age, bouncing between his ears, distorted, and muffled, as if he were drowning. Faceless men asked him the same old questions, designed to probe, and poke at his fracturing, splitting mind, to name the monster running rampant in his head in hopes of someday leashing it, or perhaps, killing it altogether.

“He told ya that you were sick in the head. He couldn’t see that you’re different, just… curious.”

Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill as a beautiful, vivid sound pierced the low rumble of men, the hum of machines and the wails of patients through the mazelike, spiralling halls. Drip, drip, drip – seductively thick, ruby droplets, the very essence of life carved from the flesh, the only beauty in that hell of soothing greens. And oh, the feeling of them falling against his tongue, so delicious and so flavourful compared to the gruel they served him.

“He tried to kill ya then, usin’ the hands of doctors and nurses to shove drugs down your throat until you lost everythin’ that made you brilliant.”

It all came back to him in blinding, brilliant colours, as if the sun were exploding before his eyes, causing the first of many tears to fall on his lip. The taste was tangy like that of the gloved digits pressed against the sensitive tissue of his throat, forcing his burning muscles to swallow down his new pernicious regimen of medicine, hoping to remedy the previous’ meagre results.

“And the worst part? He never visited. You’d cry for him every damned night, thinkin’ your tears could bring him back, but he was always too afraid of what he’d see.”

He sobbed loudly and uglily, with only the coarse kiss of fabric to stifle his screams and hungrily drink his tears; an inadequate substitute for the comfort of another’s shoulder, but the only option in that cold, lonely eternity. The sound and sensation of breath passed through him, rattling and stuttering, as if he were dying, but the sun rose as it always did, beaming from behind the curtains, mocking him from afar, for it had the moon to keep it company.

“They kept you there for years, toiling away in one of their partner’s factories as cheap, disposable labour under the pretence of rehabilitation. The money was just a number, slowly risin’ by the hour. You were just interested in passin’ the time like everybody else.”

Eyes, grey and unrelenting like the metal components he assembled into meaningless shapes bore down upon him, judging his pitiful, grief-stricken form. Joseph worked without complaint, his hands blistered, reddened and clammy from the suffocating skin of his gloves, passing finished parts along to the next man in line. The occasional defective component arose from the man before, who was perhaps too tired, or too delusional to recognise his mistake and though most discarded them, Joseph instead filled his pockets with them – New toys, made of jagged edges and sharp malformations, engraved with stimulatingly rough lettering: Conagher Robotics.

“Somehow, after who knows how darn long, you passed their assessments and met their criteria, all of which had seemed impossible once. They deemed you of sound mind – whatever that meant and sent you on your way.”

He collapsed entirely, just as he had done at Misha’s feet on that day, wailing and fighting to breathe through the bittersweet agony. He was lifted into the car and delivered into a carriage of novel sounds – the crunch of gravel under wheels, the distorted songs of the radio, the purr of an engine and the long-forgotten voice of his best friend. The fantastical colours of the world that had gone on without him failed to seem real in that moment, as if it had all been a dream and he would soon wake up in his cot in a pool of his own tears.

“Misha took ya home, looked after you even, and made sure you weren’t gonna start hurtin’ nobody. And then… you slowly picked yourself back up. You found yourself a job, a proper place to live, and ways around that mind of yours, all the while forgettin’ who had sent you to hell in the first place.”

Dell’s hand wiped his tears, a cruel mockery of the happiness he had shed when he was given the power to forge a pleasant, reinvigorating routine with his own two hands. He worked as a nurse – something he did with a smile – occasionally visited his doctor for a progress report, saw Misha each and every week – the highlight of it all – and slept soundlessly, with dreams of love fluttering about his exhausted mind. But there was something… someone more, cut out of the picture, unable to fit.

“It didn’t last, ‘cause nothin’ ever goes right for you, does it?”

His breath hitched, stifling a scream, the same scream that had been bubbling in his throat when shadows scuttled in the dark of his apartment, breathing down his neck with his belongings in their claws. With them, came the stifling presence of malaise in the place he called home, like a poison leaking from the mind, birthing paranoia, and delusion – madness itself.

“You got sick,” He spat the word out, repulsed by it. “And you tried desperately to hide it, knowin’ it’d only cause you trouble. But Misha found out and it was different this time around. He was angry, angrier than you’ve ever seen him.”

“Stop it, please, Dell, stop. I can’t—”

“—One day, you both drove right past the hospital. He didn’t think to tell you why.” His pleas fell on deaf ears, becoming nothing but noise to be talked over. “He stopped the car and told ya to get out. You walked for a little while, into the fields and it got real quiet all of a sudden. There was somethin’ about his eyes, that just screamed at you to run… but you weren’t fast enough.”

Images, broken, muddled, blurred, and bloodied crossed his mind far too quickly to be caught, like fireflies in a storm. Screams, dissected and rearranged, split across his temples, in tones shrill enough to be his own. The taste of copper melded with that of the dirt, and of primal, unimaginable fear – the fear of death. The moon hung above him, its face twisted and bloated into a smile in his withering, shrivelling memory, reflected in the eyes of the man pursuing him.

“And then, he ripped you apart, like a broken toy.”

His heart wailed in his chest, the metal remembering the violent, lamentable end of its predecessor as it too, was torn apart, this time by betrayal’s powerful, merciless hands. He had been a glorious fountain of life, gushing blood and living tissue until he had nothing more to give, but in this moment, he transformed into a hideous outpour of death, wailing, screaming, gasping to breathe. The pain, too unfathomably tremendous to comprehend then, was somehow equally as devastating now. He begged to be returned to the world below, his fists pounding against the tiles again and again until warm, reassuring blood ran over his skin.

“Why—” He rasped, shaking hands clawing at the ground to find purchase. “Why did you bring me back?” He choked, a fresh flood of tears spilling from him, like gushes of blood from an open wound.

“Because you deserve to be here, safe from him.” Dell crouched down to him, holding both of his hands, his warmth as oppressive as it was comforting.

“I… I don’t want to live without him.” Somehow, through the hiccupping, choking, and gasping, the words made it, scarred, and dismembered, but still comprehendible. “What r-reason do I have if he wants me dead?”

He was held tighter and Dell’s tone, once rough and cold, melted into total and utter love, like the stinging, yet kind touch of healing. “You have me, Joseph. I love you, and I always will.”

That phrase, rich with meaning, turned to dust upon leaving the Texan’s lips. “I-I just want him, even—” He bared his teeth, tasting salt on his tongue. “Even after everything he has done. I… I must truly be mad.” He laughed pathetically, the sound a wet, bubbling gurgle. “But I can’t have him, can I? I may as well just ask for death!” He cackled, emptying his lungs until he heaved. “Would you be so kind?”

The Engineer stopped in place, the loving strokes of his fingers ceasing as he processed that enormous, unthinkable request. His lashes fluttered, the paleness of horror spreading across his face, like a curtain of clouds parting to reveal the alabaster surface of the moon, only its smile had long since died. “Oh, darlin’…” He breathed, pulling him in for a hug, granting him the shoulder he had been so desperate for. “I don’t want you to suffer anymore, but that… that ain’t the way to do it.” His voice cracked, as if he too, had begun to weep. “I can take the pain away, all I need is for you to ask.”

“Help me, Dell. Please…”

A hiss sounded from the cables in his neck, and slowing, slowing, like wax cooling as it ran down the side of a candle, his consciousness faded, a mere whisper in the wind to be carried away. Dell lifted him into his arms, planting a shaky kiss on his forehead, promising him an end to his pain at last; one final procedure.

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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Engiespy Week (2022) Day 6 -"Crossfaction Romance or Drama"

Also available on Ao3 here

CW: Blood/Canon Typical Violence

Engineer scrambled to save his buildings, narrowly dodging stray rockets and gunfire on the way, knowing that their intel would fall into enemy hands without a sentry to protect it. He followed the signs marked Intelligence, his boots thumping against the steps on the way down. He entered the cool, quiet basement, and his machines came into view. They slumped over, crackling and twitching under the parasitic maw of the enemy’s sappers. Sparks flew and mere moments later, they all burst into flame, burning hotter and hotter until the metal glowed a magnificent orange, trembling and creaking, about to shatter.

He was too late.

Dell only had time to shield his face before they exploded. Hot shards of metal, scraps of wire and jagged components flew through the air, shimmering in the blinding light. They bounced off his hat, scraped against the gunslinger and cracked one of the lenses of his goggles, revealing a lone grey eye between the fissures. Dell chewed his lip, wrench raised. He sharpened his senses, attempting to detect the enemy Spy before he wound up with a knife in his back. He sniffed the air for the familiar aromas of ash, gunpowder, and fine cologne, but the stench of fire overpowered all else, leaving him completely blind. He swung in every direction, attempting to fortuitously hit the man hidden from sight, but he only ever struck air.

“Looking for someone?” Spy uncloaked directly in front of him, showily twirling his butterfly knife.

Startled, he failed to react, and that was enough to earn a blade to the throat.

“You certainly took your time, didn’t you? Why, it felt as if you were simply giving the intel to me.”

“I thought that ya would’ve learned your lesson after I bashed your skull in last time.”

“It was not a graceful way to die, I will admit that, but you have done far worse to me.” There was an odd fondness in his tone, as if he looked back on such things with a smile. “Little can deter me from you, mon chéri.” He leant in closer, the sharpened edge of his blade cutting into his throat ever so slightly.

Dell flinched. Was he…? No, he couldn’t be. “Well, now that you’re here, why don’t you shut your mouth and get on with it?” He snarled, getting in his face.

“You know I like to have a little chat first.”

“Ya just want to gloat, that’s all this is.”

“Only a little.” His tone suggested otherwise.

“Just wring my damned neck already so you don’t get caught fraternisin’ with the other team.”

“Tch, don’t be absurd. No one is coming down here.” He grinned from ear to ear. “I have you all to myself, labourer.”

“Ya say that, but my sentry made an awful lot of noise. Someone’ll come runnin’.”

“And what will they see then, Dell?”

“You about to spill my guts all over the damned—”

Dell’s words died under the forceful, yet skilful press of soft, thoroughly pampered lips against his own. He was kissed hard enough to take his breath away and though it was oh so wrong, he couldn’t help but reciprocate, to taste the silver tongue he despised. In the maddening elation, he barely felt the blade dancing across his neck, slitting his throat in one swift strike. A silent gasp escaped him, blood, confusion, euphoria, and terror spurting from his severed arteries. His legs gave out and he collapsed, gurgling and sputtering, drowning slowly.

He gazed absently into the eyes of the man who had cruelly toyed with him, wordlessly promising to return the favour.

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 9

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

Dell put a smile on for him, though it felt oh so wrong.

He didn’t understand – he’d done everything right. He’d been attentive, affectionate, doting and so, so patient. He coddled Joseph, loved him, and told him so repeatedly – but despite it all, this secret remained, like a nail lodged deep in his skin. He didn’t care how supposedly terrible this memory of Joseph’s was, he would always adore him. No matter how much pain he had caused, no matter how many people he had cheated, no matter how much misery lied in his wake, Dell did not care one bit, he’d accepted him for it already. Regardless of what he had done, or who he had been before, he was still perfect. For all he cared, the boy had never sinned in his goddamned life.

The only thing he couldn’t stand, however, was watching Joseph suffer. Though he tried to hold his hand through this, he was pushed away, again and again until he was completely and utterly alone, with only the marks of nails in his skin to remind him of the man he loved. Now, with cold, empty air and heart-wrenching silence in his palms, the question lied on his lips, only swelling with time, until it would inevitably burst.

What did you remember, Joseph?

One thing he knew for certain was what whatever it was, it was a problem, one he despised leaving unresolved. The shadow of this puzzle yet to be solved lingered behind every thought with its clues scattered across the vast, ceaselessly ticking components of his mind. He already had some potential solutions, some far more invasive than others. At this point, he was considering administering another dose just to help him forget it again, though doing so would be dangerous, for several reasons. He could build more mechanical replacements, ones that could render his drug regimen obsolete while providing stable, consistent results. But then again, there were methods outside of robotics and chemicals… practical solutions, tried, tested and far more reliable. Methods that rested deep within his very blood, dating back generations – The Conaghers were well known for their efficiency with machines, after all.

And that sentiment included machines made of flesh and blood.

Though the desire to poke and prod at Joseph like he would with a malfunctioning robot nagged at him, he refrained from it, recognising that efficiency was not the answer here. Such a thing would be insensitive and downright cruel. Impatience would only make things worse, if that was even possible. He had no desire to frighten or upset his lover with things he didn’t understand – while yes, they were… drastic to put it lightly, they were for his own good.

For now, however, he had to wait and observe, though it made his skin crawl with impatience. There was no harm in it – other than of course, the time wasted with this approach – as for now, Joseph’s sudden recollection appeared to be benign.

If this mutated, it’d be a different story.

Dell clutched the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply to reassure himself. He wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t. This little defect wouldn’t destroy everything he had built, maybe it’d go away on its own if he just… waited instead of meddling as he always did.

“Off in wonderland, are we?” Joseph mumbled with a dry inflection that was uncharacteristically mocking, and not the fun kind. “You didn’t hear a single word I said.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” He said apologetically, surprised that he’d allowed himself to miss a single sound from his lover’s mouth. “Would ya mind repeatin’ what you said to me?”

“It wasn’t important.” He said flatly, though a twitch of his lip conveyed that it had meant something to him. “I was just saying that I think there’s a page missing.” He tapped his index against the morning paper.

He put on a skin of slight confusion, but also a tactful acceptance of the fact. “Ya reckon?” He leant over to Joseph’s side, looking over the newspaper. He flicked the page back and then forward again and nodded. “So there is. It must’ve come like that.”

Joseph said nothing, but his face betrayed the annoyance he felt, and he suddenly wished he’d prepared a better explanation. Luckily for him, Joseph resumed clicking his pen and reading, with the jitter of his irises being far slower than usual, a dead giveaway that his brilliant mind had dulled overnight without the nourishment of sleep.

His expression lacked its typical quiet enthusiasm, for the weighty purplish bags under his eyes prevented any light from coming in, allowing dread to fester like rust. This alone would have set off some alarms, but worse yet, Joseph had barely bothered to dress himself, wearing only a silky robe and fluffy slippers with the clearest indication of his decay being his distinctive lack of grooming. His hair shot off in all different directions from sleep, or rather, the lack thereof and a dark shadow of stubble had begun to grow over his features, intensifying the downward shape of his frown.

Dell thought not to bring it up.

***

Joseph withered before his eyes like a corpse in the sun. Three sleepless nights rendered him sickly, exhausted, and pale, as if he had never been alive at all.

The worst part of all of this was that he could see himself from the perspective of the world’s damning eyes. He could almost hear what everyone else would think – he wasn’t caring for his partner properly, starving him until he was skin and bones, tormenting him until he inevitably snapped and if Dell yelled and screamed that he loved him to pieces, it’d still be taken as a lie from his countrymen. He’d be deemed a crazed lunatic and a sinister force, one only interested in perverse lust and reaping the rewards of the poor boy’s suffering. He’d be locked up, with the real monsters where his genius would be forcefully stomped out, his money ripped from his hands and his only love taken from him.

He shuddered. He couldn’t wait for much longer. He needed to fix this and soon.

The German picked at his food with disinterest, barely bothering to eat anything at all. He failed to appear enthused by anything, not the intricate and often mildly entertaining details of his day, his ideas, his opinions and not even his usual flattery could get a reaction out of his partner. He merely stared vacantly, his eyes an irate pink, shiny with fluid and his expression eerily similar to the moue of the dead. He remembered those eyes well, unseeing, and empty, only, glassier and tinted with a silvery mist. His lips were not quite as pale as they had been then, nor were they splattered with crimson droplets, but they were dry all the same.

“You’ve lost weight, honey.” He said, realising how his wrinkled, unloved clothes draped just a little from his skin.

“I’m aware.”

He clicked his tongue, looking to his still full plate, which had begun to go cold. “Can’t ya just eat half of what I gave ya?” He begged. “Just half. That’s all I want. I can’t have ya starvin’ on my watch.”

“I’m not hungry.” His face didn’t change even a little, uncaring for his pleas. “You can’t buy an appetite, Dell.” He pushed his plate towards him, giving up entirely.

His heart fell into his stomach at the thought of discarding a full plate of food. “Darlin’,” He insisted. “You’ve got to eat and ya know that a heck of a lot better than I do.”

Though his lover’s eyes met his, he said nothing at all, conveying his annoyance.

The gunslinger’s fingers splayed and flexed, imitating the horrific motions playing out in his mind’s eye. He ignored his urges, as he always did. He merely collected their plates and washed up, whistling a deceptively cheery tune, pretending as if the thoughts in his mind were perfectly ordinary.

***

He couldn’t smile anymore.

Lying in an empty bed sickened him. His fingers, though they longed for Joseph’s warm, ample skin, only touched cool, fluffy blankets, utterly devoid of his presence. He rolled onto his side, facing Joseph’s half of the bed, and pulling his pillow towards his chest, hugging it tight. The fabric lacked the pleasant smells of coconut, musky aftershave, and the distinctive kick of cinnamon. Instead, death met his senses, its smell as sweet as it was foul. He threw it aside, disgusted by it and he clutched his own body, foolishly seeking the tangible beauty and warmth only Joseph could provide for him.

He stared at the ceiling for hours, just as his lover had done every damned night this week, waiting for him to come to bed.

But he never did.

Dell sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes as he eased himself out of the warmth of the blankets. The door squealed as he opened it, similarly mourning the loss of Joseph’s company. He flicked the lights on, grimacing at the sudden brightness as his eyes adjusted to it.

He beelined for the kitchen, expecting to see Joseph there with a book in hand and the radio chittering away. Only an empty table and a steadily ticking clock awaited him, as if a hole had been punched into a familiar image, rendering it alien and unnerving. He stumbled through the house, poking his head into the bathroom, wondering if he’d taken a late-night bath, knowing him to be partial to them. But the porcelain’s pristine surface had dulled from unuse, with dust and stray hairs residing in the bottom. The shower too, remained as dry as a bone and he shook his head, muttering under his breath, vowing to drag the boy into the bath tomorrow whether he liked it or not – this had gone on too long. He checked all of his partner’s usual spots, wondering if maybe, he’d fallen asleep in one of them.

Now standing in a hallway of opened doors and empty rooms, worry crashed over him with such tremendous force that the world seemed to spin. His heart pounded in his chest, pumping concentrated adrenaline into every vein, muscle and thought.

Something clattered nearby, as if it had fallen, putting a sudden stop to the panicked storm raging within him.

He turned in the direction of the sound, relief slowly rolling throughout his body, its featherlike touch calming him. He approached his office, a space he’d never seen Joseph in before, simply because it was for him and his private business matters only, or at least, that was the assumption. He gently turned the doorknob, and peeled the door open, allowing for a slit of light to peek into the hallway. He peeked through to see a figure slumped over his desk, face firmly planted against the wood, snoring away. The desk lamp remained on, its single eye glowing in the dark, casting barely enough light to work in.

Dell stepped inside, tiptoeing as to not make a sound. He gave Joseph a gentle smile, glad that he’d finally been able to sleep, though his back would be making him sorry tomorrow. He nearly tripped as an object slid underneath him and he stopped to see a pen skittering along the ground. He ducked down to pick it up, placing it back on the desk.

He paused, realising that Joseph was lying on top of one of his journals. He craned his neck to see what he’d been working on, but his partner’s dark hair covered most of the details. All he could see were the scattered fragments of words, all of which in German and the scratches of hastily drawn lines, neither of which were enough to sate his curiosity.

He stroked Joseph’s hair, waking him. “Joseph,”

“Mm?” He raised his head, curious as to why he’d been woken up, but oddly enough, he didn’t sound at all annoyed.

“Come to bed, darlin’, I miss you.” Dell uttered gently, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Alright…” He groggily rose to his feet, yawning.

Dell wrapped his arms around him in a tight, loving hug and looked over his shoulder to the open journal.

He met the stern, disapproving blue eyes of a face he too, had forgotten. This man had been redrawn several times, gradually becoming more and more lifelike as the artist fought to accurately capture his ebbing memory. The last, the only one that hadn’t been crossed out, bore his distinctively round, bald head, thin lips permanently scarred by years of hardship, crow’s feet by his tired eyes, deep wrinkles across his forehead and low, bushy brows, all culminating to create an unmistakably unique individual.

A small arrow pointed to the giant, granting him a name, one that had been lost until this moment.

Misha.

Next Chapter

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 3

Chapters: 1, 2,

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

CW: Memory alteration/other manipulation.

Joseph nuzzled up against Dell’s shoulder, put at ease by the lingering smells of oil and metal. Though most would be discomforted by those persistent industrial scents, they were akin to a warm, safe blanket that enveloped all else. The smaller man wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, allowing him to simply enjoy his company. Joseph held the other man’s comfortingly large, calloused hand, receiving gentle, sweet squeezes that each elicited nervous, yet gleeful flutters of his heart.

The smaller man kissed his forehead. “Your tea is goin’ cold, honey.” He reminded, offering him his now lukewarm tea, which he had completely forgotten about, despite it being made exactly how he liked it.

“My apologies, I seem to have gotten lost in thought.”

“That’s alright, Joseph. Ya must have a lot to think about after… y’know.” Dell’s voice quietened at the mere mention of his untimely demise.

“…I do have an uncomfortable number of things to process, but now is not the time for thoughts of death and darkness.” He said cheerily, glancing up at the picturesque blue sky, laden with sluggish, fluffy clouds, welcoming him back into the world with their beauty. “We should be celebrating.”

Dell squeezed his hand tightly, a warm smile spreading on his lips. “Funny ya say that,” He began, his eyes vibrant with excitement. “I was thinkin’ the same thing.” He said. “Wait here for a tick, I’ve got somethin’ for ya.” He kissed his hand before parting from him.

Joseph took the opportunity to sit back and sprawl out on the blanket, seeing as he no longer had to share with the engineer. He sighed out, enjoying the gentle caress of the breeze on his face, refreshing him as if he had merely been asleep. The rhythm of muffled clinks and clanks within the nearby house alongside the pleasant heat of the sun brought him to a sleepy, relaxed bliss. A pretty whistle brought his attention to the nearby birds who seemed to love the farm as much as he did with how they danced about in their tree, attempting to impress one another, or maybe, just him. Perhaps he could ask Dell to buy them some seeds, so that he could befriend them.

Dell returned shortly, holding an adorable picnic basket with a rose-red cloth and a dark weave that begged to be opened. He placed it down and the inviting, homely smells of food coaxed Joseph’s stomach into rumbling.

“I must ask what you have brought for me. It smells delicious.” He commented, his hands daring to peel back the lid, curious as to what wonderful treats awaited him.

Dell blushed from his compliment. “It’s nothin’ fancy, but I’m sure you’ll appreciate a darn good feed after a day like today.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ya must be starvin’.”

“That I am.” He chimed in, his stomach gnawing at itself, demanding to be filled and soon.

Joseph opened the lid of the basket, unable to hide his grin as he discovered the feast hidden within. The ideal picnic awaited him, with sandwiches, grapes, cheese, crackers, biscuits and more. Though Joseph was admittedly, rather hungry, there was no way he and Dell could eat all of it.

“I have the slightest inkling that you may have overpacked.” He chuckled.

“I reckon it’s better to have too much than not enough when it comes to food.” Dell chimed in.

“I can tell.” He placed a hand on Dell’s pudgy belly and gave it a playful squeeze.

The engineer looked down at his touch in a mix of surprise and glee, his cheeks reddening. “Ya don’t mind it, do ya?” He sounded oddly insecure, as if he needed his approval.

“Not at all.” He said, squeezing again, loving the way Dell eased into it. “I quite like it, actually. A bit of roundness suits you.”

“Ya reckon?” His eyes lit up and a dimpled smile blossomed on his face.

“Mm, and if I remember correctly, you are very nice to cuddle.” He added, now rummaging through the basket for the sandwiches. He picked both out, knowing that Dell would want one.

“Shucks, Joseph, ya know the way to a man’s heart.” The smaller man was already burning bright red.

“And you know all the ways to mine.” He replied, twisting his voice in all of the right ways. “One of which being through my stomach, of course.”

“I really hope ya like the food then.” The engineer laughed nervously.

“So far,” He said, nibbling at his sandwich, delighted when it easily surpassed his expectations. “I am very happy with it.”

The relief of hearing those words spilled onto Dell’s features like vibrant, unsubtle ink. “That’s promisin’.”

Once finishing the most substantial item in the basket, he moved on to the littler things, like the grapes and crackers. He held a plump grape between his robotic fingers and nearly placed it in his mouth when he had an idea. Out of curiosity, he began to peel it, the movement effortless and incredibly precise, as if he were stripping the skin from a far larger fruit. He showed off the pale, nude grape to his partner, smiling from ear to ear.

“Why must you be so clever, Dell?” He asked. “This is an upgrade, not a mere replacement.” He said, offering the pale grape to the Texan.

Dell ate it from his hands, meeting his eyes as Joseph popped it in his mouth. “Ya deserve only the best, honeypie.”

“Are you going to upgrade yours as well?” He asked, holding Dell’s robotic hand in his own.

“Oh, nah. They’re both on par as far as the technology goes. Mine just looks a little ugly.” He said, his jagged fingers rubbing the back of his hand. “I took extra care to make yours as pretty as you.”

“Stop it, Dell. You’re going to make me blush.”

“And like yourself, it’s more than just looks.” He started, his fingers gliding down to his wrist. He released a small hatch, revealing three switches. “To be frank with ya, I wasn’t goin’ to show ya these features yet, but I can’t help myself when it comes to these sorts of things.” He said, his fingers hovering over the first of the three before flicking it, a nervous, almost mischievous smile spreading on his lips.

A repetitive pulse ran through his hand, buzzing rhythmically. Joseph couldn’t say that he was surprised by this… feature. “My, my, someone has a dirty mind.” Joseph snickered, placing the vibrating device against Dell’s thigh, teasing him without relent. “And now I am very curious if you have tested it… you said that our prosthetics share the same features, did you not?”

He revelled in the way the Texan could only let out a choked sound.

“I will take that as a yes!” He grinned madly, loving the power he had over his infatuated partner. “And by the look on your face, it seems that it works as intended.” To torment Dell further, he pulled his hand away and flicked the switch, forcing it to be still once again.

The engineer breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed at his neck. “Had enough of teasin’ me, have ya?” He asked, shyly meeting his eyes.

“For now, yes.” He suggested. “What’s next?” He gestured to the other switches.

“Ah… the rest aren’t so much fun.” The engineer said sombrely, his features suddenly turning startlingly serious. “These are only if ya get into trouble.” He emphasised that point by meeting his eyes with intensity. “I’m gonna press this one here and it’s a bit… frightenin’… so don’t panic, alright?”

The engineer activated this feature with such care, as if he too, was anxious of what would happen. The end segment of Joseph’s robotic fingers popped open, sliding back as long, elegant blades emerged with little more than a whisper-like whirr.

Joseph stared into his own reflection in each of the gleaming, sharpened knives in horror. “Oh my.” He breathed out, both startled and amazed. “Dare I ask why you added these?”

“As I said before, Joseph, ya might need them.” He said coldly. “I’d hate for anythin’ to happen to ya.”

“I don’t understand,” He muttered, flexing the weapons at his fingertips, terrified of what they could do. “I am safe here, why would I possibly need something so… dangerous?”

“Sugar… there’s dangerous folk out there.” He outstretched his hands, gesturing to the world that existed outside of their humble farm. “I know what people are like, maybe even more than you do.”

“Don’t talk like that, please, it makes you sound paranoid.” He pleaded. “I’m afraid the world is not conspiring against you, Dell.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears and the Texan only grew more stubborn. “You’ll believe me eventually, honey. Folk have a habit of meddlin’ in places they don’t belong and makin’ all sorts of assumptions.”

“You mean that someone may stumble upon us and think what exactly?”

Dell opened his mouth to answer him but stopped himself, instantly losing the anger. “Look, Joseph.” He sighed, relaxing his tone. “Hypothetically, let’s say someone stumbles into the farm right now, what do you reckon they see?”

“They see two men in love.” He responded. “Sure, that may irritate more people than we would like to admit, but I don’t believe that we would be in grave danger because of the fact, seeing as we have been keeping us to ourselves.”

Dell shook his head, his expression shifting into slight disgust. “No, Joseph. They’ll see all of your fancy prosthetics, and the system in your neck. People are scared of things they don’t understand and they sure as hell won’t understand your tech.”

“So?” He asked. “It’s none of their concern.”

“They’ll start askin’ questions.” He grew a touch agitated again, revealing his teeth in a snarl. “Questions ya don’t have the answers to.”

“Then give me the answers.” He said, leaning in close, asking sweetly, as to not irritate him.

“That’s not my point.” He spat the words out, seriousness turning to fiery anger. “They’re going to think that I’ve done somethin’ to ya.” Dell shuddered all over, clutching himself as his eyes widened in fear. “And then they’ll take you away from me.” He grabbed both of Joseph’s hands, the blades unpleasantly scraping against his robotic hand as he latched onto him for dear life. “Promise me ya won’t let ‘em.” He whined, begging him for an answer.

Joseph looked down at the gleaming, pointed blades that had locked themselves between Dell’s metal fingers, goosebumps lining his skin at the thought of them covered in blood. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, Dell.” He uttered timidly, his voice little more than a whisper.

“I know ya don’t.” He said, letting out a shaking breath. “But… ya have to understand that sometimes, makin’ a mess is the only option.” He insisted. “If someone gets in the way of us, and you end up with a problem… I can solve it for ya and make sure it gets cleaned up real quiet-like.”

He hated these implications of desperate, violent acts but upon consideration, Dell’s perspective – as paranoid and pessimistic as it was – had purchase. The idea of bloodying his hands was not exactly light on his conscience, but the concept of being ripped from Dell’s loving arms was akin to a crushing boulder. On the surface, at least, the choice became heartbreakingly simple.

“Ya don’t have to worry about a thing. No matter what happens, I’ll look after ya.” Dell reassured him, destroying his growing mound of worries before they festered into panic.

“I know you will.”

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 1

Summary: Following the events of Mx. Sinister, Dell brings his the object of his obsession back to life. With careful modifications to Joseph's body and his mind, he ensures that his love is no longer unrequited. Dell's intervention proves to be a success, as Joseph falls deeply in love with the man he once loathed.

Named after IDKHOW's New Invention, which you can listen to here

You can also read this fic on ao3 here

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

CW: Memory alteration/other manipulation.

The clock started anew with a lonesome, feeble tick.

It sounded through the once silent void like a gentle knock against the door of life. With every tick, it grew just a little louder, just a little more confident as if to command the entity behind the door to open it. The cold, precise device pulsed and squeezed his once static blood with ever-increasing strength, learning the rhythm of his body and transforming into the instrument of all of his love and his inhibitions. It pounded against the door, harder and harder until a thunderous series of contractions vaporised death itself and the door crumbled, revealing a prize on a broken pedestal. The machine pounded in his chest, shouting its triumph to the world as the victorious surrogate claimed its prize; life itself.

With motile blood, he began to wake. His muscles twitched, his ears rang, and breath flooded his lungs. He sputtered and coughed as saliva filled his dry mouth. His lashes fluttered; his eyes unable to withstand the bright light. Joseph blinked back tears as he opened his eyes and colour rushed in, removing all memory of the dull, infinite darkness from before. He took in the plain ceiling and every ridge and bump in the wood as if it were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Even the slow, rigid turn of the camera in the corner amazed him. The feel of air entering his lungs became a novelty, he touched his face, feeling the warmth of his skin as if he had been born anew. As he listened to the song of birds outside, he couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t supposed to be alive. He placed his fingers to his wrist, hoping that the beat of his heart would brush against his fingertips to tell him that he was not dreaming through his eternal rest, but he felt nothing of the sort. He lifted the arm in question from under the blankets, revealing something unfamiliar to him.

His hand was not his own flesh and blood, rather, it was an appendage of brand-new, cold steel. It bore an extraordinarily similar appearance to his organic arm, with the same proportions. The hands differed significantly, with a sleek palm, small, subtle plates on the back serving as knuckles and completed by graceful fingers segmented into three parts with smoothened, pointed tips. He turned his new robotic hand over, which moved with surprising flexibility and ease as if it was a natural limb. He flexed the fingers, bending them forwards and backwards, discovering that their range of movement greatly exceeded human hands. As he splayed and stretched his new hand, in awe of the ingenuity of this prosthetic, he failed to recall how he had lost his arm in the first place. Nor did he remember who had built this one for him.

He peeled back the blankets further, revealing just a glimpse of shining steel from underneath. He kicked the blankets off, revealing one leg of flesh, and another of heartless metal. It matched his hand, in that it bore an elegant, complex design, with a defined thigh, knee, calf and a foot complete with individual, pointed toes. He flexed his foot first, discovering a striking range of different possible movements before moving on to the leg itself, which was surprisingly weightless despite its intricate design. He stretched out, cracking what was left of his waking body, dreaming of trying out his new limbs. Playing with them was one thing, but actually using them was another. He crawled over to the other side of the bed and eased himself onto his feet, placing his arm on the wall for balance. He took his first step with his mechanical leg, reducing his once proud strides to uneasy shuffles. He outstretched his leg, removing himself from the wall, confident that he would not fall in a pathetic heap. He walked properly this time and though he was unsteady at first, he grew more and more stable until each step could almost be called normal. He paused in front of the tall mirror, curious as to what he looked like.

His reflection startled him, but it was not his surrogate limbs, nor was it the thick cables flowing from the back of his neck that made the hair on his arms stand on end, rather, it was the fully visible, beating, moving machine in his chest. It pulsed rhythmically, like a heart but it lacked the biological imperfection of one. It was as if his missing heart – and its replacement – had been made into a trophy behind a pane of polished glass for all to see and admire. His nude body was a deliberate work of art, for an inventor to show off to anyone and everyone who would lay eyes upon him. He placed his hand on the casing around his chest, feeling each and every beat of his surrogate heart pound against it, begging him to be let off the stage, for just a moment. It thumped faster and faster, responding to his rising panic at his unfamiliar appearance. Joseph placed his hands on the reflective glass – he looked like a machine!

He curiously prodded at the wiring in the base of his neck, having no intentions of ripping them out – he simply wanted to know if they could come out. He tugged the opaque cable first, theorising that it had to be some kind of support for his prosthetics before attempting the second, which was transparent with nothing inside, like a tube. The two refused to move even a little bit, and when he tugged at them a touch more firmly, a warmth gushed against his hand. He turned to see a colourless fluid rushing towards his neck through the confines of the tube, like a crystalline serpent lunging towards its prey. His mechanical heart responded to his panic by racing in his chest. His breaths quickened and he tried desperately to rip the cord from his neck before the poison could reach him. He pulled and tugged but it refused to come loose. He tried again and again to tear it free to no avail, now knowing for certain that he was not supposed to be alive. He clutched his stomach, unable to control the swirling, churning sensation as it crept into his neck. His throat tightened, as if to squeeze itself closed, terrified of the thought of returning to that quiet place. He did not want to go. Not ever again.

But even as it trickled into his blood, Joseph did not go back to the cold, skeletal hands of the void. He remained right where he was and yet, went somewhere far better.

It flowed inside of him, entering his arteries, and rushing throughout his body. His panic faded fast, and an overwhelming giddiness overcame him. Emotionlessness was ripped away as sensitivity and intense feeling took its place. His mind raced with the simple yet euphoric idea that he was alive. His every thought overflowed with excitement and appreciation for his second chance. His memories were stitched back together by unseen hands and seeped with aged bliss. His heart ached as it remembered the delight of receiving flowers, the comfort of hands interlocked with his own, the addictive taste of another on his lips and the unique reassurance of sleeping beside someone else. His new heart recalled every moment of happiness and delivered it to him in warm, joyful colours, reddening his cheeks and bringing a smile to his lips. The environment around him coincided with his increasingly colourful recollection. The coldness of his room warmed until it was familiar and comfortable, with furniture he could recognise as his own. Joseph peered into the wardrobe to pick an outfit from tantalising rows of potential candidates, he found his fingers tracing the spines of the books that he loved so much and all at once, a name came to him.

Dell.

He recalled his charmingly round face, the sweet sound of his voice, the suppleness of his skin, the alluring greyness of his eyes, the invitingly gentle patterns of his shirts, his subtle smells, his adorably calloused hands, and every blissful moment by his side. The finest details of his memories returned, like the sweet aroma of the roses, the watchful, protective eyes upon him, the soft kisses upon his forehead as he slept and his chest tightened, this time, not with fear but with smothering, overwhelming love. Fondness flooded his brain, his cheeks burning a bright pink as he clutched his racing heart, breathing heavily from the memory of Dell’s hand on his, grasping him so tightly and refusing to let him go.

He gazed around his room, a smile on his lips as he came to realise that he was finally home.

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"Mx. Sinister" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 7 🔞

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

CW: NSFW, smut, light violence (not graphic), stalking, obsession and things of that nature.

Dell gave him another gift.

Joseph bent over to pick up today’s bouquet, which was a gift of its own. He took in the sweet, subtle scent of the roses with a bashful, flattered smile. He had opted for red ones this time, the kind that were as vivid as the thickest, richest blood. Joseph read the card that he’d hidden snugly among the flowers, blushing as though his heart had been sent aflutter. By now, he was curious as to who Joseph suspected as his secret admirer. He’d listen to him guess over and over again, chuckling at every wrong answer until at last, he admitted his guilt. Such a thing wouldn’t happen, but Dell could imagine the softness of Joseph’s lips on his. He could dream of that feeling forever and never tire of it because eventually it would come true. Eventually, he would have Joseph and he would keep him forever.

Joseph fetched a vase, filled it with water and placed the roses in with care. To see his sweetheart, cherish his gifts made him feel so warm and loved that he wanted to squeal like a giddy pig. With a final glance at his gift, Joseph sat at his desk and unfurled the blueprint. He pushed his glasses up, reading it over. He picked up a pencil and jotted something down. It drew his eye immediately. It was a pretty pencil, with finely sharpened lead and dark, shiny coating. He liked it a lot and it seemed Joseph did too. He held it so gently and kindly, treating each stroke like that of a fine paintbrush. He worked with such passion that Dell found himself mesmerised.

Birds of a feather indeed.

On another piece of paper, Joseph scribbled a series of words down. Unlike the blueprint, it was done hastily and quickly, as if it had no importance to him. It was on a scrap piece of paper, unlike the beautiful blueprint right next to it. He figured that it was a shopping list for his invention, or a new idea, or maybe some extra calculations.

The man sat there for a while, tapping the pencil against the paper, pondering ideas and concepts as told by the thoughtful look on his face. He eventually tucked it all away, instead reaching for a nearby novel. He scooped it up and reclined in his chair. He flicked to a bookmarked page and began to read. His darling read quickly, and no doubt absorbed every word, inadvertently conjuring fantasies of reading to the man as he lied beside Dell, soaking in every sound that came from his lips.

Hours passed without his knowledge. He only realised what time it was when Joseph shut the book and stretched out with a yawn, indicating that he would soon sleep. It was routinely and effortless. In moments, he’d brush his teeth, wash his mouth, and have a sip of water as he always did before tucking himself into bed. Dell waited patiently, of course.

At last, Joseph returned to his bed and began to strip. He flicked the light off and eased himself under the covers. Strangely, he left his clothes in a heap on the floor. He never did that. Normally, he would place it all in the wash. He was never so careless.

Dell realised that it was an opportunity, no, a gift. He could have them soon, he merely had to wait. And so, he did. He could barely see in his dark, hidden den except for a faint silhouette that breathed in and out over and over again. He would listen to his breaths slow more and more as he relaxed until he fell into a deep sleep.

He leant forward, checking that it was safe to leave his hiding place. Dell gently pushed the doors open and slipped out. He quietened his footsteps as he approached the bed. He stood over his sleeping love and leant down ever so carefully, sweeping Joseph’s cowlick aside. He closed the distance between himself and the man he loved and planted a tender, lingering kiss on his forehead. Joseph’s skin was so warm that Dell was tempted to lay beside him and God, he loved his smell.

He scooped up the clothes from the floor, making sure that nothing fell out of his arms. He carried them back to his den as if they were treasure to be hoarded. He closed the doors behind him and made sure his partner was still asleep.

Dell started with something subtle. He scooped up his tie – identifiable by the silky, velvety material – and brought it to his nose. For the most part, it merely reminded him of the dull office work he so despised with the dull, musty scent of fabric but just underneath that was a tease of what he wanted. His cologne hid under that, bringing out an irresistible urge to have more. He found the shirt he had borrowed and put that in the place of the tie. All of his smells were stronger there, especially around the collar.

Tentatively, he put it down and reached for Joseph’s undergarments. His heartrate quickened when soft fabric brushed against his fingers. A dream formed behind his eyes, one where he was on his knees and teasing his sweetheart through the material. He could almost feel Joseph if he concentrated. It all began to tighten inside of him, and he found himself needing more. He brought it all to his nose, imagining that he was tugging the final layer away. The scent of his musk worked wonders on him. His aroma was like a pheromone to him, and every filthy image in his mind became deliciously vivid. He had his lover in his mouth and that scent was all around him. A thick gush of warmth and wetness spilled from him and Dell couldn’t stop himself. He fumbled for the lone button on his pants and practically ripped the zipper down. He shoved his hand in his briefs, feeling a stickiness against his fingers before he found what he was looking for.

As he caressed his sensitive cock, he realised that he needed more of Joseph. He wanted to have him, to feel his warmth and have his skin on his. He longed to feel hot breaths against his neck and the infinitely pleasing stretch from inside of him. Dell needed him so badly that it hurt. He wished he could just wake his sleeping angel and be his for the night. But that was not to be. He had to compromise.

An idea came to him, and it hooked him in a second. He opened the closet doors and rushed out, knowing exactly what he needed. He went to Joseph’s desk and blindly searched for it. His fingertips first brushed by rubber, then paper and then metal. His brows furrowed and he tried again, looking for it in the spots he may have missed. He grew frustrated when he didn’t find it. He swept the surface of the desk with his hand and finally touched something firm and smooth. He felt it only for a second and heard the sound of his fate, spiralling down into the depths. The pencil rolled with a whirr. He stretched his arm out, desperate to catch it.

And luckily, he did.

But despite that, he may as well have slit his own throat right then and there. It hadn’t mattered at

The rustle of sheets and movement from nearby damned him. He needed to hide, and he hastily slipped into the closet. He squeezed himself into a ball, making his body as small as possible. An agonising, horrifying pause followed. Joseph’s silhouette sat up in the bed with a craned, attentive neck. A part of him was moving, reaching towards something.

A click signalled the end, like a gunshot, the rumble of thunder, the violent boom of explosives and the crash of his world ending. The room lit up dimly from his bedside lamp and he felt as if he were about to throw up. He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t dare look. He didn’t want to meet his eyes.

“I know that you are in here.” Joseph said, his voice flat and cold like a freshly sharpened knife.

He didn’t reply, simply because he was incapable of it.

“I thought I was just paranoid before. I fooled myself into believing that I was hearing things and that the eyes that were constantly on my back were a mere construction of my mind but no, you are right here. I know you are.”

Dell swallowed drily.

“I heard you the other night. You were careless and I heard you. To be honest, it would have been best if you had left right then and there.” His voice became firm with sudden confidence. “Because now, I have you cornered in this room.”

There was so much he wanted to say, but his throat closed up further, choking his words.

“I knew you would not be able to resist. Perverse creatures like you simply cannot resist burgling clothes. You may keep them if you would like. I have no desire to wear them ever again after the disgusting things you have done with them.” He growled.

He couldn’t breathe – this was something out of a nightmare!

“Come out and show me your face. I am not armed, but I will be if you continue to hide like the terrified little rodent, you are.”

With shaking legs, he rose to his feet. He zipped his pants back up – knowing full well that Joseph would hear it – and pushed the closet doors open. He stepped out and looked to the floor, refusing to meet his sweetheart’s eyes out of fear of what he would see within his pupils.

“You?” He sounded surprised, and simultaneously not. “I should have known.” It faded in an instant and turned into loathing. “Of course it was you behind the flowers and the flattery.” He sounded indignant now, as if he hated him more than anything else in the world. “Stop pretending you’re ashamed and look at me!” He yelled, voice doubling in volume.

Dell bit his lip and did what was asked of him. With great reluctance, he looked up to Joseph, who had slipped on a pair of pyjama pants. He met his beautiful, vibrant eyes and trembled with how he only received spite in kind. He wanted to explain himself, to tell Joseph everything but his mouth refused to make a single sound.

“Tell me your name.”

With difficulty, he forced the words out. “The name’s Dell. Dell Conagher.”

“Dell,” Joseph began, now oddly calm. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call the authorities.”

“I-I can explain everythin’, Joseph.” He stammered out.

“Tell me, how does one explain breaking into another’s apartment, watching them as they sleep, shower, work, and dress themselves?” Joseph’s voice became harsh with irritation. “And lest I forget the fact that you stroke your filthy schwanz to the sight.” He added, his eyes glaring daggers into him. “Explain that to me, Dell.” He hissed out his name as if he were evil incarnate.

“I…” His voice shook with the weight of the coming words. “I’m in love with ya, Joseph.”

Joseph paused completely and cocked his head. His lips parted in surprise, and he processed those words. Slowly, a smile spread on his lips until he was laughing. “No, you are not in love with me. You are insane, Dell. You are perverted and confused.”

“I’m not a goshdarn nutjob!” He replied. “Everythin’ I’ve done, it was to understand ya. I wanted to get to know ya better.”

He laughed harder. “Oh, gott, you are mad.” His hands went for the nearby phone on the wall and Dell’s heart stammered. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Please, Joseph, don’t call ‘em. I mean it when I say I’m sweet on ya. I’m in love with ya!” He cried, begging the man. He fell to his knees. “Ya know I’d do anythin’ for ya. I just wanna make ya happy. I’ll do anythin’ ya want.” He pleaded. “I can help ya make your invention. I know how to do it and I could make it for ya in a day or even less.” He spoke faster and faster as he went along. “I can housekeep for ya, I’ll clean and keep everythin’ spotless. Joseph, I’ll do anythin’ ya want. I’ll be your lil’ toy if ya want me to be. I know what ya like and I can do it all for ya.”

Joseph looked to him with an amused smile. “You say that, but I guarantee that if I were to allow you to stay here, I would wind up dead.”

“I would never lay a hand on ya, unless ya call the darn pigs over here.”

Joseph dialled the first number. “You’re threatening me?” He pressed the next. He was just one digit away from destroying their love for good.

Dell couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. Joseph would come to realise just how much he loved him. He just needed time and by calling that number, he would cut it tragically short and with it, destroy their love.

He had to save it.

Dell lunged forward, catching Joseph by surprise. Without thinking, he threw his fist and it was only when he heard the clang of metal did he realise what he had done. Joseph fell to the floor, unconscious. Dell haphazardly caught him, moving the hair away from his forehead, fully revealing the red mark where his robotic hand had hit his head. The weight of his guilt pressed down like a pile of stones over his heart, no matter how much he told himself that this had been necessary. He’d saved them. He’d kept their love alive.

He kissed the mark on Joseph’s face, wishing that it would heal before his eyes. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t want to hurt ya, I promise. Ya pushed me, is all.” He whispered, feeling his pulse against his fingers for comfort. “It’ll be okay soon… You’ll wake up somewhere real cosy and safe tomorrow mornin’ and it’ll all be better. And maybe a couple days after that you’ll thank me.” He planted a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t you worry about a thing, I’ll look after ya. I’ll make it all better…”

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#tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #team fortress 2 #fanfiction #fic #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #science party #dark romance #engineer x medic #medic #engineer #medic x engineer #engineer/medic #obsession #trans engie #mx. sinister #smut #popitdontdropitwrites

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 5

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4,

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

CW: Memory alteration/other manipulation, hallucinations.

The uneasy butterflies in Joseph’s stomach abruptly dropped dead and a churning, violent storm of nauseating worry formed in their place, lured in by the clinks of pots and pans, the popping of toast, the sizzling of eggs and the crackling of bacon. He clutched himself tightly, twirling his hair in his fingers, guilt joining the raging storm as he knew that this horrible feeling had no place within the perfect dollhouse he called home. He had no right to be so incurably anxious when he lived in a small, picturesque slice of heaven, slept in the fluffiest bed he had ever been in every night and awoke in the arms of such a sweet, loving man. Never in his life had he felt so endlessly and unconditionally loved and yet, he had pushed Dell away as if he had been disgusted by him. It was not as if he had been forceful or rude, in fact, every movement had been soft and sweet, if not slightly exploratory. Dell was allowed to be. The man had brought him back from the dead, the least he could give him in kind was the privilege of a few touches!

He unconsciously ran his hands along his body yet again, recalling the way Dell’s had done just the same moments ago. Joseph had liked it just as much as he had, at least at first. He had basking in the warm glow of his love, allowing its heat to seep into his skin, his mind, and his heart but in the blink of an eye it had turned cold, as if he had fallen into the void yet again, freezing him completely and filling him with that same, suffocating dread. Joseph adored everything about Dell, and that included his tendency to excessively dote on him as if he was the only man left on the entire planet and yet, just then it had made him sick in a way he could not quite comprehend. He sucked in a shuddering breath, his chest filling with sharpened, cutting ice at the mere memory. He had not meant to push the man away. He had not meant to upset him. He had not meant to feel disgusted by him. He had not meant any of this, but that awful, chilling terror had misfired within him, screaming that something was wrong when in reality, everything was absolutely perfect.

Oh, but he was lying to himself. A breathy chuckle escaped him as the void’s hands crawled all over his body, grasping and groping at his flesh, its stubby fingers digging into him, as if to rip his skin apart with how much they desired him. Fingers of cold static traced his skin, chilling it as they went, bringing him back into the cool of the grave. These were not mere innocent, prodding touches, rather, they were complete, sensual acts of indulgence, bastardised by eagerness that latched onto his skin like starved leeches, sucking more and more from him. Those silver, deathly eyes bore into him yet again, their shaking pupils wide with thoughts of frenzied, fanatical love that consumed all else. More wanting hands emerged, this time curling around his neck, grasping it tightly, squeezing his life from his very flesh, its claws of twitching metal tearing him apart—

“Joseph?” A voice said, urgency tainting the usually laid-back nature of his Southern drawl. “Are you alright?” His warm hands had him by the collar, as if he had been shaking him awake.

He blinked rapidly, the dream fading from his view, melting away like sand captured by the sea. “Yes… I think so. I must have drifted off.”

“It didn’t look much like driftin’ to me, more like… I don’t know.” He trailed off, scratching absentmindedly at his stubble as if he had wanted to say something but refrained from it.

“I’m fine,” He reassured Dell with his best smile. “I’m awake now.”

The concern on his features quickly softened and he patted Joseph on the back, though it felt as if Dell did not believe him. “I brought you breakfast.” He said, fetching the plate from the bedside table, likely the reason he had come into the bedroom in the first place.

Joseph licked his lips as Dell placed his meal on his lap, the anxiety beginning to fade after waking from whatever nightmare he had just been in. The portions were generous, as always and a coffee had been delivered with it, made exactly how he liked it. He quietly thanked the engineer and took a sip to drown the last of the worried thoughts nibbling at him. His eyes wandered away from him over to the window, escaping the fading remnants of the dream with the idyllic, sunny scene before him. He placed his mind there for a moment, hoping that the sight of the farm, warmed by the sun and teeming with life would ease his mind. And it did, until Dell placed something else before him, reminding him of his reality.

“I also brought a surprise with me.” A stark, blue sheet of paper with an illustration on it rested before him, one that looked awfully familiar. Dell tapped the page, making a thoughtful sound as he did so. “I dug this up and jus’ couldn’t help but notice that it was one of yours.” He said, his eyes skimming over the diagram. “It’s a heck of a lot different to my designs, but I’d be lyin’ if I said it wasn’t a pretty lil’ thing.”

Joseph blinked, once, twice, walking his mind back to all that time ago when he had drawn it. He faintly remembered creating that blueprint, but he did not recall bringing it here. “Ah, I remember now…” A smile blossomed on his face as a small flame of passion reignited upon seeing his invention again. “I must agree. It is rather beautiful, or at least it would be if it wasn’t merely a crude, amateur sketch.” He poked fun at himself, aware of how ridiculous his design must have looked to the far more experienced engineer.

He waited for his work to be mocked, as it always was, but the sinister smirk and patronising tone he expected never came. “Amateur? Naw… It’s oozin’ with potential.” He tapped it again, the beginnings of a smile on his face, dimpling his cheeks. “I was thinkin’,” He said, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, appearing almost nervous or perhaps, excited. “Maybe we could build it?” He offered, warmly returning his attention back to Joseph.

“I have no idea if this can be built, Dell. It was merely a concept.” He explained, gesturing to his design. “For all I know, this is an impossible task. I would hate to waste your time on something that cannot be done.”

Engineer cracked a toothy smile and then he laughed. “Oh, honey…” He wheezed, pinching his nose and out of breath as he settled down. “This is hardly any trouble at all as far as impossible goes. I reckon we could get this done today if ya wanted.”

“Today?” He said, shooting up from his slumped position with excitement. “I was expecting years of planning, prototypes, tests, and hundreds of failures… not a single day with a completed, functional product.” He spoke quickly, thrilled by the idea of holding the machine he had been dreaming of for so long in his hands. “I suppose I should not have doubted the man who brought me back from the dead!” He chuckled, the storm inside of him finally fading away, taking its false warning with it. Perhaps it had all been in his head after all.

“You shouldn’t be doubtin’ yourself either,” Dell reassured, rubbing his shoulders. “I don’t love ya just ‘cause you’ve got a pretty face. You could easily be makin’ miracles happen with your smarts and this is one of ‘em.” The excitable glint in Dell’s eyes suggested that he was serious and with a delighted grin accompanying it, it was so much more – a promise. “And if we put our heads together, who knows what we could create.”

Joseph couldn’t help but mirror his smile. Having his work recognised as more than the scrawls of a mad doctor brought him a happiness unlike any other. This single machine had the power to change the world forever, by healing all matter of wounds in seconds, from the from the smallest scratches unnoticeable to the human eye, to the most lethal, devastating damage the human body could possibly sustain, and Dell understood that. Unlike his colleagues, the man wasn’t terrified of innovation, rather, he embraced it and Joseph considered himself living proof of that.

Joseph pulled Dell in and planted a lingering kiss on his lips, revelling in the way he was warmly welcomed in with a hand on the nape of his neck. “Gott, I love you.” He uttered, surprising both himself and his partner.

Dell turned bright red in moments, his mouth slightly agape from his words, unable to speak and stunned completely. He kissed Joseph back, with stunning enthusiasm, as if he had been waiting an eternity to hear those words from his lips. “I love you too,” He breathed. “But I think ya already knew that.”

“You make it painfully obvious.” He giggled. “…But I adore you for it.” He added, his voice slightly airy.

Dell pulled Joseph in closer, entrapping him in a gentle kiss, his silver eyes gleaming with unrelenting desire, just as they had moments ago.

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

Text

"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 2

Chapters: 1,

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

CW: Memory alteration/other manipulation.

The old curtain swayed ever so slightly in the cramped office, giving away a sliver of gold from behind it, indicating that the sun had arisen.

But Joseph hadn’t.

Dell slumped forward in his chair, fighting to keep his eyes open so that they could remain on the monitors. He couldn’t allow himself to sleep, not when Joseph needed him to be there when he woke up. After staying dead for so long, the rude awakening would render his poor darling terrified. He’d be unsure of where he was, of what had happened to him and so he needed a kind, loving hand to hold his and a soft voice to reassure him that everything was alright. He needed tender kisses, gentle caresses, and countless reminders that he was so, so loved. Only then could he rediscover his place in the world; right here, with him.

But even despite his mission, his lashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his eyes remained fixed on the flat, dead, line on the screen. Dell let out a yawn, the tiredness overcoming him. He drooped forward involuntarily, sleep crawling ever closer to him, wrapping its soothing arms around him, whispering in his ear that he could get away with just a moment of rest. He slumped over his desk, his eyes finally closing after an eternity without rest. Just a second would be alright. He shook himself awake. Any moment now, the flatline would jerk awake, dancing and skipping in perfect rhythm. Any moment now, he promised his tired body for the thousandth time. He couldn’t afford to rest, not even after days of constant labour, innovation, and creation. He did not matter in this, not one bit. Joseph needed his love and his care. Dell couldn’t allow Joseph to suffer so he could get a teensy wink of sleep. He’d rest after he was safe, happy, and comfortable.

He sipped at his lukewarm coffee, in hopes of waking himself up. He rubbed his eyes, glancing to the camera footage, which showed the man neatly tucked into bed, disappointingly still and motionless even after all this time. He checked his watch, doubt festering in the back of his mind like a swarm of insects growing in numbers by the second. Surely his machines could not be to blame for Joseph’s current state. After slaving over every single inch of their design, from the planning phase all the way to construction, there was no chance of even a single imperfection. But then again, anything was a possibility, especially in uncharted territory such as this. For all he knew, bringing a man back from the grave was an impossibility – even for his brilliant mind. Maybe he’d been cocky in thinking he could be the one to crack the puzzle. Maybe the universe forbade such a thing. He grimaced, disgusted with the idea of storing Joseph away again. It felt so cruel to do that to such a beautiful and perfect man, even if was to repair the devices that would save his life.

…The life he took from him.

His mechanical fingers unfurled, the heartless metal trembling from the memory of what it had done to Joseph. He touched his face, remembering every drop of warm blood that had splattered against it and he licked his teeth, the echoes of copper passing by. His heart sank, cold with guilt as Joseph’s final smile flashed before his eyes. Even though he did not deserve it, the man had the heart to smile at him in his very last moments. He wasn’t far gone enough to think that it had been a loving smile, no, it was sharp with loathing but something about it stuck with him, like a locket around his neck. The fact that Joseph had felt so deeply for him in that moment – though it had been nothing but hatred – meant so much. He so wished he hadn’t needed to hurt his sweetheart to transform that twisted passion into love but there simply was no other way. He only hoped that his upgrades would make up for the suffering he caused.

It wasn’t like Joseph would remember the pain, but Dell did. He feared that he would never forget how that first gunshot made his lips curl, how his entire body tingled upon watching Joseph’s hand burst, how the stench of burnt flesh made his heart race in his chest like nothing else, how such terrifying power surged through his hand as it ripped through Joseph. He attempted to shake the memories away, unable to bear the flutter of his heart but it only intensified, thumping harder and faster until he felt sick. He refocused his attention on the monitor, begging for his new heart to start, for anything to happen. He couldn’t bear thinking about this over and over again. He couldn’t say how many times he had seen Joseph break under his grasp, how many times he had refired that gun, how many times he had hollered and given chase. His fingers dug into his face as he counted every passing second, attempting to clear his head by force.

Thankfully, a shy, miniscule beep vaporised every thought for him, and Dell leapt up from his slumped position, clutching the monitor as if it were a beloved friend that displayed a single, feeble beat of his lover’s heart. He watched eagerly, forgetting to blink in favour of seeing every increasingly powerful thump that followed. He glanced over to the security monitor, to see the man twitching and shuddering, awakening despite all odds. In moments, the data for the rest of his vitals fed themselves into his monitors, revealing beautifully normal signs, just as he had hoped for.

He stopped himself from dashing out of the office, even though he wanted to more than anything else in the world. There was more to do before he recklessly dived into the man’s arms and peppered kisses all over him. He idly touched the scars on his throat, remembering the teeth that had so viciously torn into his neck and the hands that had choked him so spitefully. He opened the hatch in his mechanical arm now that the time was right to administer his clever new invention. It wasn’t much– no, who was he kidding… it was a brilliant concoction to help Joseph settle down after so much stress and of course, to jog his memory… in all the correct ways. He pushed down the button, biting his lip with anticipation and he watched his monitors, waiting for the correct response. At first, the man’s heartrate rapidly increased, panicking in response to the new, unknown stimulus and Dell’s own followed, terrified that his innovative drug would fail him when he needed it the most. But in mere moments, it slowed significantly, all the way down to a resting rate, even calmer than when he first awoke – a clear sign that it was doing as it was supposed to.

Shortly after, another monitor flicked on, revealing Joseph’s brain activity as it too, responded to his creation. He crossed his fingers, here was the true hurdle. Even though he’d gone above and beyond to preserve his darling’s brain, chances were that there could be some damage or anomalies. He watched carefully, paying attention to every single miniscule piece of information with bated breath, waiting for an onslaught of bad signs. But even as the minutes passed, it all appeared so… normal. Nothing had withered away, not even in death and still, his soulmate was utterly him. Tears filled his eyes as a relief unlike any other flooded his body, freeing him of the horrible burdens on his shoulders. He was alive! He shook uncontrollably, knowing that now he could keep Joseph forever, and no one could take him from him – Not death, not God or the devil himself! He’d beaten the lot of them, with nothing but his own two hands. And his prize awaited him, ready to be showered in his love.

He let out an embarrassing squeal with giddiness at the thought of finally reuniting with Joseph despite the fact that he looked like a wreck, with dark, heavy bags under his eyes, the beginnings of a beard on his usually shaved face and skin covered with oil, grease, and dirt. But none of that was of any concern, not when Joseph was alive and waiting for him. After being without him for days and days, he needed to see him. Delaying this for even just a moment longer would surely drive him mad.

Dell abandoned his office entirely and rushed out into the morning sun, blinking back tears as his eyes adjusted to the brightness after days of dreary, yellowed lights. Dell ripped the door open so quickly that it slammed against the wall, causing the birds on the grass to fly away in fright.

He halted completely as he met eyes with the man he adored, who looked at him in the way he had only seen in his sweetest dreams and the tears finally spilled from his eyes, overwhelmed by that simple, yet infinitely complex expression of longing. He became weak at the knees just seeing him again. In death, the man had been little more than a broken doll to remind him of his purpose as he spent his nights sealed away in his workshop, pouring every ounce of his love into the metal he shaped, but in life, he was maddeningly pretty, with mechanical wonders to match his near angelic form. Joseph hadn’t changed a bit, and at the same time, he looked like a completely different man. His face lacked the bitter hatred he had grown used to, rather, his eyes were patient, his posture open and everything about him seemed to welcome his presence, instead of violently shoving him away. It was then when he knew that it had all worked. Not a single flaw hid within the intricate machine before him, he was all perfect, now, because of him, just as he deserved to be. Yet more tears spilled from him, and he let out a whimper, surprising himself.

Joseph approached him, unable to stand the sight of his tears and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly with pity on his features. “Please, don’t cry.” He said softly, without even a hint of bitterness in his tone. It couldn’t be real and yet it was and that picked at his seams, undoing him piece by piece until he was sobbing. He wept on the man’s shoulder, comforted by both Joseph’s loving embrace. He eased into the man’s hold, drinking in the unfamiliar sensation of being completely – and genuinely – enveloped by his loving arms.

“Sorry, honey, I must be the ugliest crier you’ve ever seen.” He choked out, leaning into his touch, welcoming its warmth and its softness. “I didn’t mean to… I’m just really gosh darn happy to see ya alive again.” He said, the words shaking with the rest of him. “I can’t even begin to tell ya how much I’ve missed ya.”

“I don’t even remember dying but… you saved me, Dell.” Joseph said, running his hands through his short, prickly hair. “I… I’m not even sure how I can possibly thank you for this.”

Saved. Oh, how that word made him smile. “Ya don’t need to.” He reassured him. “All I want is for us to be happy together. That’s enough for me.”

Dell’s hands curled effortlessly around Joseph’s, holding them both and their fingers – both natural and mechanical – interlocked as if they had been tailored to fit one another… at least, the latter had been. Butterflies swarmed his stomach, their wings beating rapidly as Joseph squeezed his hands, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

And though he was utterly surrounded by the man he loved, he quickly discovered that he wanted something more. Dell wanted a confession, that he had been right all along, that Joseph had always known that he loved him to bits, that he wasn’t mad, that they had always been destined for one another, that Joseph had been so wrong to resist fate, and now he loved him too. “Joseph, honey,” He breathed, unable to find the words simply because there were too many of them to handle. Dell gripped the smooth fabric of Joseph’s vest, the material crumpling at the strength of his grip as he looked up into the man’s eyes, begging for an admission. “Please tell me ya love me like nothin’ else, tell me ya feel jus’ the same way as I do, tell me ya don’t think I’m stone cold crazy, tell me ya want to be with me forever, tell me everythin’…” With every word, his conviction grew and from mere whispers, his words turned to needy, desperate pleas. “Please, Joseph, I… I need this.” He stammered out, whining and whimpering as if his life depended upon it.

The taller man’s lashes fluttered as he processed his words. “I’m not sure how I could possibly explain any of that to you.” He said quietly, his eyes not leaving his in a mix of nervousness and fondness. “At least… not in words.”

Joseph pulled him in by the nape of his neck and he leant in, tilting his head up so that he could meet the taller man’s lips, unable to wait a second longer. Their lips brushed, teeming with feeling for the very first time and Dell felt so light that he could faint. Joseph kissed him gently and insistently, giving him the passion he so craved and he returned every one of them, their hands separating in favour of finally exploring one another. It was so different than before. It wasn’t tainted by lies, or by fear, or by shyness – it was genuine and real, so much so that the thought of stopping never crossed Dell’s mind. Joseph grew more and more confident, feeding upon his kisses, taking them as encouragement to go further until he was practically mauling Dell, wordlessly admitting to it all.

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