#arthur jenkins x v

[cp77nyexchange]

2023 Works Masterlist

The 2023 round of the Cyberpunk 2077 New Year's Exchange is now over! Many thanks to all the participants, you made amazing things! 💖 Expect 2024 round news in September.

2022 Masterlist | 2021 Masterlist

Fic:

(check out the AO3 collection)

Dum Dum/OMC:

Sparks and Wires by @lhugbereth (on AO3)

Jackie/male V:

to this by @anaisonfire (on AO3)

Johnny/male V:

here by @vince-linder

Judy/fem V:

The Unforgiven by @iamsuperconfused (on AO3)

River/fem V:

Give it a Name by @arcadium-squire (on AO3)

Takemura/fem V:

A Night City New Year by @carlosoliveiraa

Johnny/fem V:

Dazed and Confused by @cybervesna (on AO3)

Johnny/Kerry:

Hot Chocolate by @thornwild (on AO3)

Kerry/male V:

Say It with Flowers by @myfoggedreality (on AO3)

Never Tear Us Apart by @the-archangel (on AO3)

here by @simply-jason (on AO3)

(Never) Sick of you by @cosmicak (on AO3)

Art:

Johnny & Kerry & fem V (& Judy & River):

here by @ghostoffuturespast

Claire/fem V:

here by @jasakime

Judy/fem V:

here by @kharonion

Viktor/fem V:

here by @maimaiapologist

Takemura/fem V:

here by @dread-red-queen

Yorinobu/fem V:

here by @elvenbeard

Hanako/male V:

here by @firstaidspray

Jenkins/male V:

here by @punchsomeoneforme-willyou

Scorpion/male V:

here by @thesavagemuffin

Viktor/male V:

here by @darkmatterrian

Johnny & male V:

here by @for-lovely-things

Johnny/male V:

here by @valka-arialitan

Kerry/male V:

here by @wingedhorrors

here by @danyaselmar

here by @mango-parfait

here by @arczism

[meltingangels]

"Do you believe the rumours?"

"What, that the Witch has Jenkins under her spell?"

"Yeah, that. What do you think?"

"...wouldn't surprise me."

[myfireplacewentboom]

Jenkins' Boy

Jenkins’ Boy

18+

Male Corpo V x Arthur Jenkins

Vincent is the perfect Arasaka employee: efficient and ambitious. Arthur Jenkins is a cold, calculating corpo with an eye for talent and a serious grudge. Vincent’s growing obsession with both his boss and his own career spirals, and he is forced to confront the realities of the corporate world he has chosen.

I’m sitting at my desk in my office booth on the main floor of Arasaka’s Counterintelligence division. It is seven minutes past eight in the evening which means I have been here thirteen hours, eleven minutes and two seconds. I know that because I am told by the timed tracker on my monitor.

The text on the screen in front of me is blurred; the letters are bleeding into each other and the page I’m reading stopped making sense a little while ago. I restart my cybernetic optics but there is no change: the words are a hazy smear of black and grey on white. As I sit there reloading and reloading my kiroshis, I surmise that this must be a mental issue and this distresses me - a scary reminder of the shortcomings of my organic brain. So I reach for the drawer besides my desk and slide it open before extending a hand inside for my latest cognitive booster -Trauma Team approved - that had been delivered by the medical corporation last Saturday as part of a subscription plan covered by my platinum insurance package. The booster is in its usual place - to the left, at the back - and my fingers wrap around it. I lift it to my mouth, my dry lips close around the cool plastic in relief, and I pump it - once, twice - with a practised hand. The swelling in my head folds in on itself like a ball of paper being tightly crumpled and my mind settles almost instantaneously.

I’m feeling sharper now, less distracted. I blink a few times and when I reload my optics again the text on the screen focuses. My vision is perfect once more so I remove the booster from my mouth and place it carefully back in its usual spot and then I resume analysing the Biotechnica intelligence files our agent recovered this evening. As I read the report I annotate my observations on a separate document and these notes I make are detailed and meticulous (I know what I am doing) and as I’m starting to finish up my eyes dart over to the tracker on my monitor again and I note that in six minutes I will allocate them to my assistant Carter Smith to log.

Harry Johnson, an assistant agent like me who I am forced to work with on this assignment, releases a slow yawn from across the other side of the booth we share. The sound is muffled but annoyingly rich and long with a finishing crescendo. I know Harry has moved his hand to his mouth, closed his eyes and stretched in his blue and white striped Appel De Paris shirt. The image I am holding in my head enrages me because I can picture it so clearly, and then Harry lets out another exaggerated yawn and something within in me that I had been quietly holding together all afternoon suddenly snaps.

Useless piece of shit. I think.

I’m confused by the intensity of the anger because I am usually very calm. My face is all scrunched up, my eyebrows low and knitted; I realise, startled, that I’m glaring at Harry through my screen. I drop the frown immediately because I do not want wrinkles and then I notice a very dry feeling at the back of my throat, so I lick my lips and swallow. My focus shifts away from Harry Johnson and I slide open my desk drawer again, pick up my booster and study it closely. I read through the listed possible side effects and I turn the booster in my palm, over and over again.

My neck suddenly goes cold and I am hyper aware.

The Assistant Director and my direct superior, Arthur Jenkins, strides back into the office. He’s a tall, forty-something man with broad shoulders, wearing a fitted black silk suit jacket and matching suit pants, a black waistcoat and a white cotton shirt with a button down collar, all from Jinguji. His shoes are polished black oxfords (also from Jinguji) which hit the ground loudly as he marches with heavy, purposeful steps. His tie is black and red striped silk done up in a tight Windsor knot and his dark hair is neatly slicked as always. A thunderous scowl is etched upon his face.

The faint murmurings of my colleagues are swiftly ended and the room fills with an uneasy silence. All faces turn towards monitors, mine included, and I ensure that my back is perfectly straight as Arthur Jenkins stops and surveys the room with a cold, critical stare.

I feel his gaze pinpoint on me, as I always do. My insides squirm hideously and the soft dusting of hairs on the back of my neck slowly rise. I think that Jenkins is studying me for some time, although I cannot turn around and be sure of this, and I feel slightly ill but also slightly pleased to be once more the focus of his complete attention.

Jenkins moves on. I chance a secret glance up from my monitor and watch as he stalks into his personal office. From my desk I have a perfect view of Jenkins’ body - his long back, his tense thighs, his perfect ass covered in black silk - and I watch until the double set of doors slide shut behind him.

I can vividly remember the day I first set eyes on Arthur Jenkins. It had been the most important day of my life - my Arasaka interview - a month before I was due to graduate from the Academy, back when my voice used to shake when I was nervous and I had not known the correct amount of pomade to work into my hair. I had introduced myself immediately when he’d walked in and had offered him my hand, which he had shaken, and then he had assessed me coolly from behind his desk as I had sat across from him in my new suit and eager smile and sweaty palms. The sweat had only increased throughout the ruthless interrogation and I recall at one point my voice had accidentally stammered when he’d asked me for my opinion on the 2023 bombing, to my humiliation. Jenkins’ face had been inscrutable up until this point. But I remember how his lips had twisted upwards at this as if he was indulging in some pleasure at my embarrassment and, sensing my fear, he had pounced on this and pressed me. I had survived well enough in that interview with all the trained confidence of an Academy boy from Charter Hill (I had later discovered that I had ranked in the ninety-fifth percentile of my cohort that year) but Arthur Jenkins had made a striking impression on me. I had cried in the backseat of my father’s chevillon as our family’s chauffeur had driven me home, where upon entering the penthouse on Jefferson Avenue I had locked myself in my bedroom and had masturbated furiously through tears.

From across the other side of the booth I hear Harry exhale when Jenkins leaves the room. He then laughs, quietly and nervously, and I find myself struggling to repress my anger once more.

“Guessing the meeting with Abernathy didn’t go well.” Harry Johnson says to me.

 He waits for a minute - the tapping on his keyboard stops. I don’t reply. Harry seems to get the message because the keyboard starts up once more and I’m not as bothered by this sound because I can drone it out, and he does not try to speak to me again.

We work in silence. I finish annotating my report. When I’ve written down my last observation, I glance at the timer on my monitor and realise to my satisfaction that I am two minutes ahead of schedule. I send the file to Carter Smith’s inbox. Then I stand away from my desk and leave the red booth, ignoring Harry Johnson as he slowly lifts his head and looks up at me as I pass.

Carter Smith is sitting at his desk. He does not have his own booth. He is wearing an ill-fitting blue blazer jacket over a cheap cotton shirt. His tan office pants and brown brogues (brown shoes are inappropriate for a professional environment) are non-label. His dotted cotton tie is coming loose and his belt is black, so it does not match his brogues. Carter Smith’s brow is sweaty and his hair lacks pomade. He freezes when he sees me - which I find amusing - and more tiny beads collect on his too-shiny forehead like dew drops on weeds.

“Carter.” I say in greeting.

He stands up abruptly, awkwardly. I notice that he has a good two inches on me but I remind myself calmly that Carter Smith and I are the same age and he is only a junior analyst assistant in Arasaka Corporation and will never climb higher. He will never stay at the Tokyo Konpeki Plaza hotel, taste real sushi in his mouth, or wear silk Jinguji underwear like I do. Carter Smith did not rank in the ninety-fifth percentile in our interview cohort. And, I am pleased to observe, I am handsomer.

“Hi Vincent! I, um, I have those Petrochem reports you asked for.” Carter says, stumbling a little over his words as usual.

He clears his throat and blushes, and perhaps because it has been so long since my own boyish stammering, and perhaps I enjoyed seeing the weaknesses of my colleagues displayed before me, that I feel no sympathy towards Carter Smith, and I do not feel kind.

“They were supposed to be ready yesterday.” I frown.

Carter stiffens as I take a step towards him. He carries himself meekly, apologetically, and he smiles weakly but there is no friendliness behind this useless gesture. I’m aware that Carter Smith hates me but I regard this without emotion; it’s just another piece of information that I acknowledge.

“And whilst I’m here you can explain your dress code breach.” I continue, and gesture sharply towards his ill-fitting blazer and plain tan slacks. “You’re a mess. Did you really thing this was appropriate to wear to the office?”

Carter’s too-big ears turn pink and he says nothing so I have to impatiently ask, “Well?”

He looks slightly shocked, as if confused by the question, and stares back at me helplessly with his dull brown eyes. “Sorry - my other suit’s in the wash - I don’t have another. This, this is the smartest thing I own…” He trails off feebly before adding, “I, um, I didn’t have any client meetings today.”

I know that he knows this is no excuse – Arasaka rules are very clear - but I’m starting to get bored. My admonishment has lost all its fun and I’m too tired to drag the conversation out so I say, “You know what the rules are - see that this doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes sir. I’ll send you the reports now…”

My lips curl at this. Sir. I’m still young enough that this word feels odd in my head but I can’t deny the satisfaction the title gives me, hearing it coming out of my assistant’s mouth. I feel very grown-up all of a sudden, very important, and I have a smug realisation of my increasing status in the world and this makes me slightly giddy. I feel a step closer to Arthur Jenkins and his inscrutable, untouchable power and this is very thrilling.

An unpleasant smell creeps up my nose. It’s Carter Smith’s cheap eau de toilette and it’s sufficiently pungent enough to pull me from my fantasies. Carter looks at me, standing rigidly, and I realise he is waiting for me for me to speak. I remember the files I sent to his inbox and I point a finger towards his monitor. His big cow eyes follow obediently.

“I’ve sent you something – the report our agent at Biotechnica recovered this evening.  Log all of my points and cross reference the data with the Militech report from Tuesday, you know the one.” I’m saying all this with a firm, authoritative tone. “Drop whatever mundane shit you’re doing right now and prioritise this, it’s important. Details are in the attachment - you’ll see my notes.”

Carter nods and sits, sweaty forehead glistening from the glow of his screen. “Ok. Will do.” He thanks me and then he asks, “When do you want this by?”

“End of the day. Hand it to me personally before you leave tonight to buy a new suit.” I tell him coldly. “I suggest you get started. If this one’s late too, don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”

I watch as for the first time, Carter Smith’s face pales. His eyes strain and his mouth opens and closes and opens again and for a moment he looks as if he wants to say something, so I wait. But the moment passes and Carter says nothing.

I’m strangely disappointed. I wanted Carter Smith to push back at me instead of shrinking away obediently like he always did. But Carter Smith was only a junior assistant, a Watson boy, and even though he and I had attended Arasaka Academy together in the same year and pledged ourselves to the same corporation, we did not operate in the same realms. Carter Smith was a Kabuki charity case, the first in his family to join the Academy and then the megacorp, and his name did not open doors for him in the same way that mine did. He would never stand up to me, no matter how cruel or unfair I was, no matter how much I mistreated him - he has no friends here to help him and I suppose he couldn’t bear going back to Kabuki. My disappointment fades, replaced with a gleeful awareness that I possessed power over people like Carter Smith, and I was curious to test these limits.

I start to turn away from Carter - back to my booth, back to Harry Johnson - but familiar ringing swells in my head and I realise that Arthur Jenkins is calling me on holo.

I feel sick; my heartrate spikes to one hundred and six beats per minute which is enough to be considered fast and I know this because of the biometric reading notification flashing in the top right corner of my visuals. I recall the neuromotor relaxation exercises advised to me by my life coach during our last session together where he had told me I needed to control my breathing – visualising a still body of water might help, Vincent – and I breathe steadily: in and out, in and out.

I accept the call.

“Vincent here.” I say, and I wait. Jenkins’ display loads a second later and I notice anxiously that he’s still scowling – jaw tense, lips pressed tightly together.

“Did you not get my message?” Jenkins demands angrily. Dread builds up inside me.

“No - I’m sorry - what message? I’ve been away from my desk.” I say, and I swallow.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Just finishing that Biotechnica report you wanted done. It’s almost there, should be with you this evening.” I explain and as I say this I look at Carter Smith pointedly.

Jenkins nods curtly. “Good, fine. Let your assistant handle it - come to my office. I need to talk to you in private.”

His short tone twists my stomach. I wonder if there have been any faults in my recent performance and I think back on my latest defensive operations - Tokyo, London, Seoul - I had been pleased with the results at the time but doubt begins to creep into my mind and a wash of icy panic envelopes me.

“I’m coming.” I say.

Jenkins doesn’t reply. He ends the call and my view refocuses on my immediate surroundings, where I see Carter Smith staring very hard at his screen. I ignore him and turn, embarrassed. I remind myself that I don’t care what Carter Smith thinks.

I march towards the antechamber that leads into Arthur Jenkins’ private office, straightening my silk suit jacket from Jinguji that I have paired with matching black pants and a red micro-twill shirt with a classic collar. On my way, I catch faint murmurings from some of the colleagues I pass, whose eyes I feel pointed towards the back of my head like knives. One muttering catches my particular attention.

“Don’t look now but that’s him - Jenkins’ boy.”

Jenkins’ boy.

I bristle and flush hard with indignation and something else and there’s a slight tightness in my pants which I do my best to ignore. My spiralling anxiety deflates the growing tent in my slacks but I realise that no matter the outcome here - even if I’m fired and kicked out of Arasaka like Joey Livani had been yesterday with my implants switched off - that I will masturbate vigorously to this nickname tonight.

I step into the antechamber and then maintain a still position facing forwards with my feet evenly spaced apart, as instructed to do so by a disembodied female voice. A blinding blue light hits me as the security scan hones in on my face and it’s very uncomfortable but I don’t blink. Perhaps it is the growing dread in the pit of my stomach, but as I stand there bathed in blue light I wonder what it would feel like for visitor authorisation to fail and to be gunned down by the turrets above the door. I wonder if I would die before my crumpled, bullet-ridden body hit the floor or if I would feel anything at all.

The camera completes its assessment of my face and the double set of doors in front of me slide open smoothly.

My black leather oxfords echo on the floor of Jenkins’ private office. The room is dimly lit but the vibrancy of Night City’s corporate plaza behind the glass back wall casts neon streaks across its length. I can see the mega towers of rival corporations - Militech, Kang Tao, Petrochem - giant concrete monoliths surrounding the plaza like gravestones, blocking out the sky. Two enormous projected koi fish - one orange, one blue - swim in a circle above a sea of gridlocked cars. If I squint I can just about make out the vague shapes of people on the ground, tiny enough that they don’t really look like people at all but more like a variety of little coloured bugs I could step on. Arthur Jenkins stands behind his desk arms folded, a dark silhouette against a blazing urban hellscape. He does not turn around as he speaks.

“Have a seat, Vincent.”

I do as I am told. My erection has completed deflated by now because I’m so worked up and in my head.  I run through, over and over, my latest defensive operations until there is nothing left to analyse because by now they’ve bled into each other. I am reminded once more of the shortcomings of my organic brain except this time there is no cognitive booster waiting in its usual spot in a drawer beside me to be thrust into my mouth and pumped.

Slowly, Arthur Jenkins turns around and looks at me. His face - inscrutable, coldly handsome - is agonisingly calm and after he sits opposite me he pulls from his desk an expensive looking bottle of Japanese whisky and two crystal glasses, and I’m surprised at this. I am offered one, and I summon the Arasaka employee in me and accept, although I dislike the taste of spirits.

“I was gifted this in Kyoto last month by my counterpart.” Jenkins tells me as he rotates the bottle in his hand and inspects it.

“The culinary scene there is unrivalled.” I state.

“You’ve been to Kyoto?” He asks.

“Some time last year.” I say, although I haven’t.

“I despise the Japanese.” Jenkins says casually. I laugh lightly in response although it wasn’t a joke. “But they make good whisky.”

He opens the bottle and pours with large, steady hands. Amber liquid spills from the mouth and into my glass. A wave of lust crests over me and as I watch Jenkins’ hands I imagine them gripping my thighs and spreading them apart.  He kisses the inside of my legs before his hands move to my waist, slowly gliding up my naked body and running over my pectoral muscles until they find my throat, where they wrap around and squeeze the life from me.

When I raise the glass to my lips I meet Jenkins’ eyes. Then I drink with perfect precision.

The whisky swirls around my mouth. It’s Yamazaki – drier and smokier than the American bourbons I order when I have to when I lunch with Brandon Tsang and Frank Nostra. I hold the whisky and chew on it like I should before swallowing and as it runs down my throat it burns but I don’t cough. Jenkins drinks from his own tumbler. I watch - stomach squirming, throat on fire - hoping that he doesn’t ask for my opinion on the bottle because my head already feels light and I’m not well versed in whisky from Japan and I have never actually been to Kyoto.

Jenkins drains all of his. “Fucking Abernathy bitch has screwed me over.” He says suddenly.  I’m startled by the spite in his voice and almost drop my glass. “I was this close to making Director. Smeared me with the Osaka report this morning in front of a load of Japanese execs. Now she’s been the one promoted to Director of Spec Ops. The cunt.”

Right – his meeting with Abernathy that Harry Johnson had mentioned to me earlier. I feel a weight lift from my stomach as I realise I’m not the cause of Jenkins’ fury. The biometric reading notification flashes and tells me my hormone levels have stabilised.

Jenkins has worked himself up now. “Should have known she’d take all the credit for that Jakarta ploy. It was my idea to dump all that synthetic oil into the ocean. And for what? Now she’s on the eightieth floor and I’m stuck in Counter Intel. Need to get back at her, teach her a thing or two; show her what you get when you fuck with me.” He pauses for a moment, looks at me, and seems to remember my presence. His eyes sweep over me approvingly.

“Nice suit.” He says.

“Thanks.” I say, pleased. “It’s Jinguji.”

Jenkins pours himself another drink and studies the glass in his hand. I admire the way he holds the glass - lazily, easily, conveying a deep sense of self-reliance and …inner conviction, I decide; he and the tumbler are one. “You’re wondering why I called you here.” Jenkins states. He looks at me with cold blue eyes.

“Is this to do with the Seoul report?” I ask quietly.

Jenkins’ brow furrows. “What? No, nothing like that.”

He pauses for a moment, looks me up and down again. His face shifts into a familiar detached neutrality. He composes himself utterly as he assesses me, and I am distinctly reminded of my Arasaka interview two years ago. My mouth starts to feel uncomfortably dry. When Arthur Jenkins speaks to me again his voice is hard and deliberate.

“Listen carefully; I’ll only say this once.”

He swirls the whisky around the tumbler and I watch in silence as a drop of liquid spills over the top of the glass and runs down his hand - gold gleaming in the dark.

“I need people on my side, people I can rely on when the time comes.” Jenkins says. “I’ve been monitoring you since you first interviewed with me, you know. There are going to be some major changes around here soon and I need people like you, Vincent. I like the way you operate; you and I work well together. It would be a shame if anything were to happen that would stop that.”

He did not say it directly, but I was experienced enough in the corporate world to know what Jenkins was getting at. Behind the glass wall, a black and red Arasaka AV glides elegantly up to a landing pad above us. Jenkins’ eyes do not leave mine.

“Can I continue to count on you?” He asks softly. His fist is clenched tight around his glass. I know that there is only one acceptable answer here.

“Yes.” I say.

My head feels light and the word had slipped easily out of my mouth, but I had meant it. I’m flattered Jenkins has asked me, has invited me here in private to drink expensive whisky he had been gifted in Japan. He had not asked anyone else; he had only asked me.

He’s studying my face closely. I can see the initial suspicion - the gears turning in his head as he considers my answer, our history, my intentions. Then he relaxes, satisfied with my sincerity. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

He leans back into the chair and drinks smoothly. I watch his as his body spreads assertively – the broad cut of his shoulders pressing his black suit jacket firmly into the dark leather. My eyes trace the outline of Jenkins’ mouth. His lips are full and fleshy as he smiles slowly and I imagine them kissing the inside of my thighs and his tongue slipping out and licking my cock.

“One more thing, so you can be sure you made the right decision.” Jenkins says. “Loyalty should be rewarded: I’m promoting you to agent, effective immediately. You’ll take over Livani’s patch: Europe - Frankfurt. I assume you know why he won’t be doing it anymore.”

Agent.

I run the word over and over again in my head until it sounds funny and loses all meaning. My silk pants grow agonisingly tight. An Arasaka Counterintelligence Agent at twenty-three years old - I might be the youngest agent in the entire Night City branch. The thought of this causes a very smug smile to flit across my face.

Jenkins raises his glass of Yamazaki. I match his toast and drink, downing my glass. The whisky burning through me is a lot stronger than I’m used to and I wince. It’s Yamazaki, a Japanese whisky that Jenkins had been gifted in Kyoto, which I have never been to. The room feels very warm and a pink flush dusts my cheeks.

“You know, you remind me of myself when I was young.”

I don’t hear the rest of what Jenkins says. I’m lost in a light haze - the city skyline behind him is a multi-coloured blur - but it’s a pleasurable experience and his voice makes me hard.

“Come here.” Jenkins commands with a wave of his hand. His lips are curled into a smirk. “Come on.”

The room sways gently. One of the giant projected koi fish - the orange one - swims leisurely past the glass back wall, illuminating the room in a soft sunset glow.

I walk unsteadily until I’m standing before him. I can smell him now - his hair, his breath, his skin.  Pepper, vanilla and spices - strong and musky. I want to breathe into his neck, run my tongue up his face and taste the stubble and sweat. Jenkins looks me up and down. I feel his gaze linger between my thighs, on the outline in my pants.

“You’ve even styled your hair like me.” He says. He runs a hand through my carefully slicked locks and I shiver pleasantly. “Cute.” He intones each syllable.

“I - I …” I say weakly. I don’t know where I’m going with this sentence. Jenkins’ touch is very warm on my face and in my hair and I realise I have never been held like this before. A deeply repressed longing, not only for touch, but for more than that - for genuine connection - swells within me and it is so overpowering and my erection is so sore that I think, blissfully - I love him - andit seems to me as he pushes me firmly onto the floor and unzips and slips down his silk pants to reveal his hard, pink penis, that he loves me too.

He fucks my mouth until I choke. Then he pulls out - his pale cock glistening with my saliva - and throws me onto his desk and my slacks and underwear are easily removed. Jenkins kisses the inside of my thighs then grips my legs and then my waist. He sucks and kisses my stomach, my nipples, my neck, then pushes my knees up to my chest.  I feel his hot breath and his tongue.

A finger is thrust inside me, then two, and it hurts. He hears my cry and grins. I think he’ll force himself inside me then but he coats me in lube and saliva before pressing his penis against my asshole and pushing it in. His hips start bucking, he pants as he ruts. Then his thrusts grow sloppy, his breathing laboured, and it’s all over. He orgasms - eyes wild, mouth open - and hot semen shoots into me and onto my thighs and onto the desk and drips down my ass.

His penis is already going soft as he pulls away. I’m lying on the desk stroking my cock and I look to Jenkins confused but he says nothing; he’s not looking at me. He’s watching the Night City skyline.

I catch my reflection in the glass. I see myself how Arthur Jenkins sees me: inexperienced, obedient, pliable. A startling innocence that I had never recognised in myself before is shown for the first time and I suddenly feel very young, very self-conscious. I realise despite my new title I was still the Academy boy playing pretend in an adult world that was rapidly hurtling towards me, and I feel alone. I’m afraid.

A koi fish - the blue one - swims slowly past. The light washes the office in a blue hue so it looks like water is flooding in and we will drown. It’s cold; I’m naked. I wipe Jenkin’s semen from my stomach with my pocket square and put my clothes back on.

My footsteps echo quietly back to the antechamber. As the double set of doors slide open, Jenkins calls my name.

I turn. He’s a black silhouette against a blazing neon sky and I feel very scared. His tone is threatening when he speaks.

“Don’t disappoint me.”

[caztopia]

Commission done for @pheedraws (｡+･`ω･´)

[pheedraws]

Virtù e Fortuna

Pairing: Arthur Jenkins x Female V (Vic. Deckard)

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: On V’s list of “Ways I Do Not Like to Spend My Friday Nights”, rubbing elbows with Night City’s elite at stuffy Arasaka parties would definitely take the top spot. That is, of course, until someone changes her mind... 

Warnings: Canon-typical language, use of alcohol, suggestive themes but nothing explicit (Rating- M)

A/N: I’m trying to get back into writing a little more, so I figured I’d try my hand at some of the prompts created for the #MoxWrites2077 challenge! Specifically in this case: Day 3 - First Meetings. Thank you for hosting such an encouraging, supportive event! I’ve honestly never felt so inspired. 

Charter Hill, 2071 

On V’s list of “Ways I Do Not Like to Spend My Friday Nights”, rubbing elbows with Night City’s elite at stuffy Arasaka parties would definitely take the top spot. 

Breathe. Relax. It's just a party, not a firing squad. 

Though admittedly, if faced with the choice, V wasn't confident she could wholeheartedly say she'd prefer the former to the latter. 

Arasaka spared no expense when it came to parties, and tonight was certainly no exception. The uppermost floor of the corporate hotel had been entirely transformed, staff from all departments mingling in the grand function room. The suite stretched out onto the balcony where the deep aquamarine ripples of the pool shimmered invitingly, glass and chrome furniture glittering in the light of the setting sun.

Had said party not been full of corporate sharks waiting to strike at the first scent of blood, V may have even described it as beautiful.

Not for the first time that evening, V surreptitiously adjusted the plunging neckline of her dress, silently resenting herself for choosing one that left her lacking on the brassiere front. For the most part, she had been lucky when it came to avoiding these functions, her role within Special Operations landing her in combat more often than it did black-tie events, but her luck had seemed to run dry on this occasion.

Said occasion being the promotion of her trainer, commander, and corporate leash-handler to the position of Director.

It made sense. Kiran Keller was, on paper, the perfect candidate for director of Special Operations; ruthless, efficient, and not above shoving a rifle in the face of whoever stood in her way. V both respected and feared the older woman in equal measure, but even that was not enough to coax a feeling other than discontent from her when faced with the prospect of a party in her direct superior's honour. 

On a Friday night, no less. 

Mandatory attendance for all Counterintelligence, Defence, and Special Operations staff. Plus ones permitted. 

Jackie had almost laughed his ass off when she'd suggested he tag along. "Vicky, you know I love you hermana... but fuck no." Not even the promise of an open bar had been enough to sway the man, and with a loving pat on the back, he'd pushed her out of the door with nothing but a smug "Buena suerte, chica!" to keep her company. 

And now, here she was; alone, painfully sober, and regretting ever allowing herself to be talked into buying the black patent abominations currently chafing away at her ankle bones.

Thanks, Jack. 

This was not her typical Friday night. Friday nights involved wine- lots of wine- takeout food of questionable origin, and playful repartee with the only person able to keep her head above water no matter how many times Arasaka- Keller- tried to sink it. Jackie... Jackie didn't know everything concerning her sudden backtrack into the corporate world, but he stood by her anyway; a friend through thick and thin.  

No, not a friend. A brother. Family.

V sighed, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth despite her distaste for the situation she found herself in. She never could stay mad at him for long.

She made her way over to the bar in the centre of the suite. V knew she’d have to face Keller at some point, be the polite, courteous corpo-rat her grandmother had once tried to morph her into, but the prospect of dealing with the woman sober struck fear through her gut like a hot poker.

Whiskey, don’t fail me now.

Hailing the bartender, V braced her arms against the countertop, newly lacquered nails tapping nervously against the sleek black marble. "Bourbon, please. On the rocks." 

The room was abuzz with voices conversing in jargon she didn't understand, filled with faces she didn't recognise. I don't belong here. It was the world she had been born into, sure, but not the world she had grown up in; mercifully whisked away at an early age following her parents' divorce, never having to endure the falsehoods, the corruption, the brutal backstabbing... 

Well, until recently, that was. 

Mom's probably rolling in her grave right now... 

It was easier to ignore at work; that sickening feeling of shame, of guilt. It was easier to convince herself that she had no choice, that she was doing what anyone else in her position would do to keep themselves afloat when she was cutting down enemies, doing exactly what Arasaka told her to do like a good little corpo-rat. 

But now? Dressed to the nines, sipping complimentary whiskey that no doubt cost more than her first apartment had, kissing ass and masquerading as someone who belonged in this world outside of working hours? V felt sick, a tightness that was becoming worryingly familiar as of late crushing her chest, stealing her breath. 

I need air. Now. 

Clutching her glass, she weaved through the crowds as gracefully as she could, forced polite smile on her face. Just a few more steps. Large doors beckoned her out into the cool evening air, relief washing over her as she made it onto the balcony unscathed and with her dignity still- relatively- intact.

The chatter was quieter out on the roof, and V felt the suffocating brain fog slowly start to dissipate, leaving only tendrils of tiredness in its wake. How many hours until she could leave without Keller hunting her for sport? V couldn’t be sure. Too many, at least.

She walked towards the quieter end of the balcony, only a few lone partygoers occupying the space, enjoying the last rays of the setting sun before it gave way to night. The music from inside the suite drifted lowly on the breeze, and V stopped to lean against the glass balustrade, gazing out at the bustling city below. Out of the corner of her eye, V noticed a suited man to the left of her doing the same, looking out at the city as the sun set on the horizon, bathing the towering corporate monoliths in a warm, orange glow. From her vantage point, V could faintly see the mismatched structures of The Glen in the distance, not quite gleaming with the same abstract beauty as the sleek buildings of Charter Hill, but emanating an aura of their own nonetheless.

Home.

"Quite the view, isn't it?" The man to her left had moved a few steps closer, body turned to face her. 

She hummed, feeling the breeze toy with the loose strands of hair framing her face, the sensation a soothing balm after the buzz of the party inside. "It's almost peaceful when you can't hear the traffic." 

V allowed herself to glance over at the man beside her, taking in his features in the golden light. His attention swept back to the guests mingling on the rooftop, before settling on her once more. "Not enjoying the party?" 

She tried not to grimace. "That obvious, huh?" 

"Not really, I just know a fellow reluctant participant when I see one." The man smiled warmly then, holding out his hand. "Jenkins, Night City Counterintelligence." 

She took his hand. "V, work for Keller over in Special Operations." The firmness of his shake was grounding, a much-needed anchor amidst the swirling cloud of anxiety that had hung over her head since stepping foot on the premises, and V found herself enjoying it perhaps a little more than she should have. It didn't hurt that the man himself was easy on the eyes; six-foot-something of toned muscle hidden beneath sharp suits, dark hair and bright blue eyes that had V mentally calculating exactly how long it had been since she'd last gotten laid- anything to excuse the way her pulse had spiked at the slightest touch that wasn't accompanied by barked commands or the sting of combat. 

Ah, fuck. 

"Keller, huh? The woman of the hour." 

"That she is." For better or worse.

Then, as if posing a scandalous question, Jenkins dipped his head towards hers, voice lowering, a look of mirth shining in his eyes. "She as scary as the recruitment vids make her out to be?" 

V laughed. Between the warmth of the whiskey and the man's- Jenkins'- presence, the discomfort she had felt moments earlier was already melting away. "'Fraid so. Never met her?" 

"Never had the pleasure of working with her, no. She likes to keep her department... contained, so to speak."

That was putting it mildly.

"Don't I know it..." V muttered, downing the last mouthful of bourbon. She tried to ignore the way his gaze trailed from her lips down to her throat and lower still, the stubborn spark of heat that had ignited in her stomach at his touch steadily growing into something more. 

"Can I get you another?" Jenkins nodded his head in the direction of the bar, charming smile toying at his lips. "Might as well make the evening as bearable as we can, since we're both stuck here indefinitely."

Fuck, he was good at that. All charm and smiles and smooth words... V had no trouble believing he was ruthlessly efficient at his job, thriving in this world that was eating her alive. 

"Lead the way." 

Jenkins held out his arm for her to take, and the gesture did not go unappreciated, V’s discomfort melting away into something almost foreign to her.

Enjoyment.

The bar was impossibly busier when they arrived back inside, the pair clearly not the only ones with alcohol in mind to ease the almost glacial passing of time. They found a space towards the far end of the suite, Jenkins ushering her in before taking up position next to her, propping his arm against the countertop as V mirrored his stance. He leaned down to speak over the noise, a warm, firm hand pressed against the small of her back as his breath tickled her ear. The scent of his cologne washed over her, and V found herself instinctively leaning into him, heat rising to her cheeks as she willed him not to notice. "What's your poison?"

"Bourbon, please." Jenkins turned to catch the attention of the bartender, ordering two whiskeys that were swiftly placed in front of him. V took the glass handed to her, grateful for the sweetness on her tongue as she took a sip to calm her nerves.

"So," Jenkins began, swirling his glass, "how long have you been with spec-ops? Can't have been long, I imagine." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Though her tone was playful, a part of V- the part she had been trying to keep on a tighter leash since swapping the streets of Heywood for trouser suits and espionage- bristled at the implications of his words, that this man she had met not even an hour ago thought he could read her, could see past the walls she had so carefully built up to keep her neck intact in this cutthroat corporate world...

Jenkins grinned, picking up on her irritation immediately. Guess that leash needed to be tighter. "Your eyes." At her puzzled look, he continued. "There's fear in them- hidden, of course, but it's still there. You look around this room, you see threats. If Keller's anything like the stories I've heard about her, well..." Another smile, this one tinged with the slightest hint of sympathy. "She's got your balls in a vice, hm? Something held above your head? And you think everyone in this room is in her pocket, too- that you can't trust anyone." 

Well, shit. 

"The thing is," Jenkins continued, sparing her the embarrassment of attempting to retort with her tongue tied in knots, "once you've been here long enough, you soon realise everyone else has their balls in a vice, too. Everyone's out to save their own necks." He took a sip of his drink, piercing blue eyes meeting hers once more. "You stop seeing them as threats once you know you can ruin their day with a few special words whispered into the right ear. Power and control... S'all it is, V. Gotta take what you can from this world before it ruins you."  

V stood in stunned silence, equal parts admiration for the man and annoyance that she had been so easily read. Jenkins saw through the silence- because of course he did- and laughed good naturedly. "So… how did I do?" 

V smiled despite herself, shaking her head slowly in disbelief. "That's quite the party trick." She took a drink from her own glass, savouring the burn at the back of her throat before continuing.  "Been there just over nine months now, did some freelance work before that." 

"That how they sunk their hooks into you?" At V's pointed look, he smirked. "Thought as much. They never have played fair- guess they just like to make everyone else's jobs around here all the more complicated." 

V paused for a moment, studying the man before her, all confident smiles and charming words. "And you? Who's got your balls in a vice?" 

Jenkins laughed, shaking his head. "Can't tell you that, V. Speaking her name often has the unfortunate effect of summoning her, and I'm enjoying my evening far too much for that right now." 

The pair fell into a somewhat comfortable silence then, watching partygoers pass by, some more inebriated than others. V thought back to what Jenkins had said, reluctantly admitting to herself that perhaps he spoke a lot of truths, no matter how… grating those truths may be. She was about to speak when a new voice halted her train of thought.

"Jenkins, there you are." 

V didn't miss the way Jenkins' demeanour changed almost instantly; posture stiffening at the sound of the woman's voice as she neared the pair, stopping in front of them with her arms folded tightly across her chest. The look she gave the man was cold, calculating, and V noticed the same look mirrored in her drinking companion's eyes. 

Ah, balls and vices.

When Jenkins spoke, his voice was firm, any traces of the man who had joked good naturedly with her all evening effectively brushed away, hidden beneath effortless professionalism. "Abernathy. Enjoying the party?" 

The woman rolled her eyes. "Cut the bullshit Arthur, I'm not in the mood." V watched as Jenkins' jaw twitched in irritation, turning to face the bar to avoid being drawn into a conversation she really had no business being in. She flagged down the bartender once more, and soon enough another two glasses were set in front of her, condensation glistening under the soft lights. 

"Logistics need to run something by us before we leave the city, and I'd rather not drag that out any longer than needed."  Her cold gaze shifted from Jenkins to V, and then down to the glasses on the table, lips curling with thinly veiled disapproval. "We leave in five minutes. Do not make me wait." 

Almost as quickly as she appeared, Abernathy turned to leave, heels clicking across the polished hardwood. Wordlessly, V pushed one of the glasses across the countertop, Jenkins taking the offering with an appreciative nod, knocking back a mouthful of the amber liquid as she turned her attention to the retreating form of their unexpected guest. V waited until the woman was safely out of earshot, watching as she stepped around drunken interns dancing amongst themselves with the same look of distaste she'd presumably been wearing all evening. "Friend of yours?" 

Jenkins grimaced into his drink as if the very notion were offensive. "Colleague. We've been stationed in Osaka for the past ten months- longest fucking ten months of my life." 

"Wanna swap?" V propped her elbow up on the bar, hand resting beneath her chin as she levelled Jenkins a playful smirk. "Think you could charm your way through an 0500 hours training session with Keller while I jet off to Japan?" 

Jenkins barked a laugh, shaking his head in mock disapproval, any lingering traces of tension disappearing from his shoulders. "Isn't that Director Keller now?" 

"Mmhmm, lucky me, right?" 

Jenkins opened his mouth to retort, only to pause as his gaze locked onto Abernathy stood in the grand doorway across from the bar, glaring daggers at the man while jerking her head in the direction of the AV pad.

"Well, V. I suppose that's my cue to leave." His eyes shone a brighter blue for a second, the familiar flash of incoming data lighting up her own optics. "I'm flying back to Osaka tomorrow morning, but I've flicked you my details." He paused. "Should you ever need them, of course."

Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was the dress... Or, hell, maybe it was the ten-month dry spell that inspired a sudden surge of confidence within her. Whatever it was, V didn't have time to question it before her mouth acted of its own accord, brain cell lagging about five minutes behind it. "Is that strictly for business? Or for pleasure, too?" 

Preem. Smooth, V. 

She tried not to recoil too visibly at her own words. Jesus, where did that one come from, you gonk? She could almost hear Jackie's affable mocking in the back of her mind, delighting in the way she fumbled through any and all dealings of the romantic variety. Shit, maybe it really had been too long since Lola... 

To her relief, Jenkins' smile only widened in response, the man laughing as he placed a hand on her elbow. "I suppose time will tell in that regard." His voice was low, smooth, and V hated the way her stomach flipped at the sound. The crowded bar left little room for personal space, and- not for the first time that evening- she found herself wondering just who the hell deemed it fair to make his eyes that goddamn blue. 

V didn't realise just how openly she had been staring until the man before her smirked, his thumb stroking soft circles in the crook of her elbow as heat rose to her cheeks, brown eyes widening in realisation. 

So much for subtlety.

Amused, Jenkins leaned in closer once more, speaking low enough that his voice was only just distinguishable above the music. "Goodnight, V." She shivered at the closeness. "Don't let this world swallow you whole, hm? Be a damn shame to lose that fire." With a wink, he stepped away from the bar, making his way over to the doorway his colleague had disappeared through moments earlier. V watched until he, too, had vanished from sight, sighing before finishing off the remaining whiskey in her glass in one undignified gulp. 

That... could have gone worse. 

The man... Jenkins... was charming, dangerously so, with just enough carefully concealed hot-headedness to send her mind wandering to less than professional places. V groaned inwardly, sending a silent prayer to whichever god her mom had thought so highly of that she hadn't been too embarrassing. She wasn't sure Keller would ever let her know a moment's peace again if not.

Right, Keller. 

V sighed. Reality calls. But as she went to leave the bar, track down the newly appointed director seemingly committed to making every day of V's mandatory twenty-year loyalty obligation a living hell, she paused, and noticed the flashing notification in the corner of her optics.

New Contact Added: Arthur Jenkins. 

A strange feeling settled into her chest. It wasn't fear, no... Something new, something good. A lightness of sorts; a buoyancy aid thrown her way when all she had felt prior was a sickening sinking feeling, tied down by suspicion and disquietude and fear like a lead weight. 

Power and control. Maybe she could work with that after all. 

She squared her shoulders. For the first time since joining the corporation, the first time since selling her soul away on a dotted line as if it meant nothing... V didn't feel so utterly alone in the lion's den, and she smiled. 

Well, who would have thought. Maybe these parties aren't so bad after all... 

AO3

[gamerkitten]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Arthur Jenkins/V Characters: Arthur Jenkins, V (Cyberpunk 2077) Additional Tags: Female V (Cyberpunk 2077), Arthur Jenkins - Freeform, Fluffy Smut Series: Part 2 of Corporate Affairs Summary:

Director Abernathy's attempt at entrapment makes Arthur Jenkins finally tell V exactly how he feels about her.

[cybervesna]

Did a thing with my post-game and pre-game ships  🌸 [Template] by @arcandoria  Vincent and Hanako icons by @siliconpit 

[kingsroad]

You’ve got teeth, Arthur. Don’t forget to bite down.

[jamandtoast86]

How Old is Fan Fiction?

Prompted by a fan, somewhere on the web, who felt that fanfic was invented in her twenty-five-year lifetime. I can't even..

No warnings. Exposition of the safest kind.

---------------------------

According to a Wikipedia article[i], it is possible to argue that, initially, fan fiction grew out of readers who met to talk and write about the fiction of H.P. Lovecraft in the late 1800s.   In reality, humans have been making up songs, plays, and stories based on the work of others for millennia.  The common culture of myths and legends that humans share is fertile ground for making up stories with existing characters or circumstances, and sharing them, verbally, or in writing. The phrase fan fiction dates from 1936[ii] and fanfic from 1968[iii], both according to Merriam-Webster Online.

Fans of Lovecraft, and onward, were sharing those commentaries, questions and fanfic via APAs, Amateur Press Associations.  Distribution to like-minded fans, was gradually facilitated by typewriters and carbon copies, spirit duplicators, or Gestetner, and, eventually,  photo-copiers.  These were the tools available to ordinary fans.  Oh, and letter mail to get them to readers. These became fanzines[iv]. 

Even professional writers paddled in the waters of other universes.  the Wikipedia article cites The New Adventures of Alice by John Rae in 1917.  In Textual Poachers,[v] Jenkins mentions T.H. White[vi], Mary Stewart[vii] and Marion Zimmer Bradley[viii] all of whom wrote several reinterpretations of the legends surrounding King Arthur. Slightly more recently Leslie Fish[ix] published a fully novel length, The Weight, taking on the Star Trek (original) universe.  There are literally many thousands more examples of short and long pieces of fiction, art and music, inspired by someone else’s creations.

The glaring difference between then and now has everything to do with computers, the internet and the web.

The personal home computer dates from the late seventies, but was largely unaffordable until roughly a decade after (depending on your family’s affluence).  Wikipedia quotes the magazine Byte which “…’in January 1980 announced in an editorial that the era of off-the-shelf personal computers has arrived”. The magazine also stated that "a desirable contemporary personal computer has 64 K of memory’’”[x] That seems laughable today when our phones have more capacity and functionality than those desktops did.  The adoption of TCP/IP by the US Department of Defense, allowed the beginning of small networks among government departments.  Later it was adopted by major universities and businesses, and we had the Internet.  Almost instantly we had groups of fans getting together by e-mail, and multi-person discussion groups. The next advance was development of hypertext transfer protocol (http) at CERN, followed by the web server and browser.  The search engine came soon after, and the World Wide Web was born.

Today we can have instant communication with anyone else who has a computer and internet service. We can research our topics, share ideas, ask and answer questions and, most of all create and share art, fiction, poems, and songs about the characters and themes we love.

[i] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fan_fiction downloaded 29 May 2022

[ii] https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fan%20fiction  downloaded 30 May 2022

[iii] https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fanfic downloaded 30 may 2022

[iv] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fanzine download 29 May,2022

[v] Jenkins, Henry. Textual Poachers, Television Fans and Participatory Cultures. New York, NY, Routledge, 1992

[vi] White, T. H.  The Sword in the Stone.  London, UK, Collins, 1938

[vii] Stewart, Mary.  the Crystal Cave. New York, NY, William Morrow, 1970

[viii] Bradley, M. Z. The Mists of Avalon. New York, NY, Ballantine, 1982

[viii] Fish, Leslie.  The Weight Collected.  Chicago, T’Kuhtian Press, 1988

[ix] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_personal_computers#Home_computers downloaded 29 May 2022.

[ao3feed-silverv]

Liquid Smooth

https://ift.tt/k8je6hC bluemojave

by bluemojave

V has spent his life being used by the men around him. For his intellect, his connections, his strength…but more than anything, he wants to be wanted for himself- even if it’s just for his body.

And tonight, Johnny Silverhand is more than willing to provide.

Words: 2595, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Cyberpunk 2077

Fandoms: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Johnny Silverhand, V (Cyberpunk 2077), Arthur Jenkins, Jackie Welles

Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/V, Johnny Silverhand & V, Past Jackie Welles/V, Past Jackie Welles & V, Past Arthur Jenkins/V, Past Arthur Jenkins & V

Additional Tags: Top Johnny Silverhand, Bottom Male V, Corpo V (Cyberpunk 2077), Male V (Cyberpunk 2077), Johnny Silverhand/Male V - Freeform, Johnny Silverhand x Male V, Johnny Silverhand/Corpo V, Johnny Silverhand x Corpo V, Johnny Silverhand - Freeform, Bisexual Johnny Silverhand, Angst and Porn, Porn with Feelings, Mentioned Jackie Welles, Mentioned Arthur Jenkins

from AO3 works tagged 'Johnny Silverhand/V' https://ift.tt/k8je6hC via IFTTT

[ataraxiamfrp]

Thank you all for participating in our first activity check! The characters listed here are the ones who did not pass activity check, and who are being dropped for the period from FEB 23 - APR 30.

If your character is on this list, we will leave your app on your page for three days, during which you will have the chance to send us an ask to immediately reapp. If you choose to do this and you are dropped for activity in a future activity check, you will have to wait a week to reapp as that character. 

To reapp, just send an ask including the following:

indication that you would like to reapp 

character name and series

date

contact information

In the meantime, you will remain in the server, but be given a role that does not allow you to post until you either reapp, or three days pass, after which you will be removed from the server. 

Thanks everyone!

9S - Mel

A2 - Cola

Add (Mastermind) - Shiro

Akira Kurusu - Cenisa

Apollo Justice - Naeem

Arina Do’ri - Eri

Arita - Linnea

Arthur Morgan - Machina

Assassin (Izou Okada) - Hyu

Blake Belladonna - Saturn

Blue - Kaeris

Caleb Widogast - Horo

Camilla - Rina

Carin Leicht - Rowell

Caster (Circe) - Rhys

Chuuya Nakahara - Rose

Commander Video - Essent

Dante - Fayt

Dice Arisugawa - Kaeris

Dii’von Sil’vass - X

Eliott Witt (Mirage) - Valentine

Fjord - Zev

Geoffrey Librom - Jay

Gran - Reina

Green - Karin

Grog - Fayt

Howell “Howl Pendragon” Jenkins - Cherry

Iceland (Reynir Aðalmundur Skarphéðinsson) - Noctis

Inigo - Haru

James Sunderland - Spooky

Jester Lavorre - Kendal

Jiang Cheng - Reffie

Jolyne Kujo - Alan

Kaden (Fates) - Puchi

Kaede Akamatsu - Jay

Kairi Sisigou - Vinyl

Kamina - Vinyl

Kana - Caelum

Kokichi Ouma - Catherine

Kyouko Kirigiri - Cola

Lancer (Enkidu) - Reina

Lancer (Scathach) - Elisa

Lan Wangji - Thrall

Leonardo - Ica

Lord El-Melloi II - Shira

Luciel Choi - Zev

Lucifer - Liet

Luna - Catherine

Luo Binghe - Reffie

Medicine Seller (Kusuriuri) - Linnea

Miles Morales - Cyrus

Minako Arisato - Hani

Mitsuki Izumi - Shira

Naoise of Irestill - Goomy

Noctis Lucis Caelum - Noctis

Pelhi Maimhov (Final Fantasy XIV) -- OC - Carys

Qrow - Maxter

Ramuda Amemura - Naeem

Raven Cronwell - Hyu

Reigen Arataka - Spooky

Rhiro -- OC - Fayt

Ritsuka Fujimaru - Hani

Ryuunosuke Tsunashi - Karin

Sariel - Linnea

Shen Qingqiu - Thrall

Simon Petrikov - Maxter

Sinner (Blake) - Vinyl

Tryvan “Magpie” Pagonis - Machina

Vanitas - Vanitas

V - Rose

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Jona

Xie Lian - Mint

Yamato Nikaidou - Cenisa

Yasha Nydoorin - Mel

Yoshikage Kira - Arcade

Yoshiya Kiryu (Joshua) - Ashley

[all-or-nothing-baby]

Ooh, thanks @quillsandink-writes I love myself a good tag game. Love finding out about my mutuals--and you've some of my favorites in your v cool list! B-but I have to choose only 10?! This is gonna be nigh impossible (seeing as I'm pretty old...)

Right, here goes nothing, in no particular order:

Detective Fox Mulder - The X-Files (1993-2002)

Lisbeth Salander - The Millennium Series (Stieg Larsson novels) A.K.A. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle character (first appeared in The Strand Magazine, 1891)

Spock - Star Trek (1966-2013)

Lars Lindstrom - Lars and The Real Girl (Craig Gillespie, 2007)

Sarah Connor - The Terminator (James Cameron, 1984)

Walter Bishop - Fringe (2008-2013

Mina - Skellig (David Almond novel, 1998)

Dean Winchester - Supernatural (2005-2020)

The Doctor - Doctor Who (1966-present)

Jennifer Goines - 12 Monkeys (TV show, 2015-2018)

Priscilla-Jean Henrietta 'Tulip' O'Hare - Preacher Comics (although I'm a huge fan of the original comic book character, I actually prefer the TV show's version of Tulip)

John Constantine - Hellblazer Comics (1988-present)

Klaus Hargreeves - The Umbrella Academy (TV version, 2019-present)

Tank Girl - TANK GIRL Comic (1988)

Clarence and Alabama Worley; yes, they come as a pair - True Romance (Tony Scott, 1993)

Number Six - The Prisoner (1967-1968)

Victor Mancini - Choke (Chuck Palahniuk novel, 2001)

Vince Noir - The Mighty Boosh (2004-2007)

Anthony J. Crowley - Good Omens (Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman novel, 1990)

Bill and Ted; yes, they come as a pair - Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure (Stephen Herek, 1989)

Inara Serra - Firefly (2002-2003)

Will Graham - Hannibal (2013-2015)

Theodora Crain - The Haunting of Hill House (2018)

Loki Odinsson - Thor (Kenneth Branagh, 2011)

Stiles Stilinski - Teen Wolf (2011-2017)

Mark Renton - Trainspotting (Irvine Welsh novel, 1993)

Mr. Fox - Fantastic Mr. Fox (Roald Dahl novel, 1970)

P. Rick - The Young Ones (1982-1984)

Lol Jenkins and Richard James 'Woody' Woodford; yes, they come as a pair - This Is England (Shane Meadows, 2007)

Ellen Ripley - Alien (Ridley Scott, 1979)

Withnail - Withnail & I (Bruce Robinson, 1987)

Marla Singer - Fight Club (Chuck Palahniuk novel, 1996)

Okay, so I swear this is the shortlist xD (there's soOooo many more). Yes, I failed in my mission... So, sue me, as Dean would say.

Tagging, play or nay: @petrichoravellichor (the wifey always gets a tag) @jupiterjames @narraukoiel @aloha-cowgirl @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat and also some of the newer fam like @shealynn88 @peanutbutterandgrapejelly @legendary-destiel and @galaxy-charm plus a couple I've not chatted to in what feels like eons: @crack--attack and @dammitsammy ...and obvs anyone else who wants to play should play!

That was more than 10 tags? YOU CANNOT CONTROL ME! I AM NOT A NUMBER, I'M A FREE MAN! Ahem.

Name ten favourite characters from ten different things (books, tv, film, etc.) then tag ten people

Thank you for tagging me @javicpiotrthane54 x

1. Ianto Jones (Torchwood)

2. Schneider (One day at a time)

3. Poussey (Orange is the new black)

4. Clara Oswald (Doctor Who)

5. Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

6. Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

7. Chandler Bing (Friends)

8. Spike (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

9. Barney Stinson (How I met your mother)

10. Jake Peralta (B99)

I’m going to tag: @sterekandwolfstar @multiwells @star55 @muicness @sleepycosima @wibbley-wobbley-stuff and of course everyone else who would like to do this :)

[caztopia]

I wish that he was a romance option :/

[pheedraws]

🖤

[gamerkitten]

Black Tie Affair (Arthur Jenkins/V)

Chapter 2

Read chapter 1 here

“So,what’s your deal?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow,”Excuse me?”

“With Abernathy, I mean,” V leaned in, the exotic fragrance of her perfume filling his nose and his eyes sliding down to the cleavage on show before flicking back up to meet her inquisitive gaze,“I mean, she’s a huge bitch, but you seem to really hate her.”

He slid closer to her, dropping his voice, “I have good reason. She smeared me to the Japanese,and stole the director's job from right under me.”

He drained his glass, feeling the old anger bubbling to the surface.

“She’s digging a hole for me, and just waiting for me to trip into it.”

She smiled,her long nails grazing his neck as she picked a piece of non-existent lint off his collar, “Hmm, well the answer’s simple then. Don’t fall in.”

“Ah yes,” he said, “why didn’t I think of that?”

“I think you hired me for a reason,” her laugh was rich and throaty, “maybe thinking up the things that you don’t is part of it?”

He felt the soft pressure of her foot against his leg and he could feel the anger of a minute earlier drain from him. The emotion that replaced it, well he wasn’t completely sure whether or not  it was one he should indulge. V had worked for him for nearly two years and for the past six months or so it seemed like her purpose in life was to tease him in the slyest ways she could think of. The stunt she had pulled on the halo earlier just being the latest.

“-Jenkins?”

“Shit, sorry,”he said, her voice dragging him from his thoughts, “what were you saying?”

“Distracted?”

The smirk on her lips sealed his decision, consequences be damned. In one fluid movement, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder,wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck and squeezed just enough to watch her lips part in surprise as she forced herself to keep composure. He leaned in, relishing in the feel of her hair against his face.

“Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

Jenae did her best to keep it together as Jenkins led her away from the crowd and to the secluded greenhouse garden. She shivered, wishing that she could blame it on the cold; but the room was set to be almost tropical in its warmth. Once he was satisfied with their location, she found herself pushed up against the damp glass.

“You had to know this was bound to happen,” Jenkins was looking down at her, almost hungrily, “so please spare me the look of surprise.”

The kiss was rough, with his hand fisted in her hair and the way he held her wrists above her head hard enough to bruise. She felt herself melt, allowing his tongue between her lips, eliciting a deep moan that felt like it came from her very core.

When they broke apart, both were breathing hard, “Fuck, where did that come from?”

“As if you don’t know,” he growled, sliding a hand up her dress and giving her ass a squeeze, “you really think you can get away with acting like such a little slut?”

He was right,of course. Not that he could ever effectively prove it and she told him so, flashing a mischievous grin.

“You’re right about that,” he conceded, before dropping her arms and wrapping his fingers around her throat, “but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Not worried about a scandal?”

Jenkins chuckled, applying pressure, “Not even a little bit.”

The hand beneath her dress slid between her legs, slowly rubbing over her panties. She bit back another moan, followed by a whine of disappointment when he stopped. He kissed her again, sucking on her bottom lip as his hand continued to wander; this time finding her breast and rolling a hard nipple between his fingers through the thin fabric.

“Jenkins-”

“Arthur,” he corrected her, “seems appropriate when we’re alone, don’t you think?”

She nodded, then hearing voices nearby, “Yes, but I don’t think we’re alone anymore.”

“It does seem that way,” he said, shooting an annoyed glance over at the group who, from the level of their conversation, were way past the point of just being drunk,”I would suggest we get out of here but I can’t head out until Abernathy does.”

“Well,” she purred, cupping his face in her hand, “I probably shouldn’t go before you do. In case you need me.”

“Hm, smart girl,” he kissed her once more before sliding an arm around her waist, “well, we best get back. Can’t be rude to our host.”

[cybervesna]

20, 32 and 52 for otp ask!

Awww, thank you! Since you didn't specify for who, I'm gonna answer for both ships! 20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship. Hanako & Vincent: Labrinth & Zendaya – All for Us  Wiosna & Jenkins: Blondie - Heart Of Glass 32. Who’s the better storyteller?

Hanako & Vincent: Vincent! In Hanako's defense, it's hard to compete with someone who is fueled by talking to people. Vincent knows how to get people's interest and attention, even when it comes to kids at the camp! He also has way more personal experience with stories of all kind.

Wiosna & Jenkins: Jenkins, totally. Wiosna barely talks, to begin with, and she definitely would be petrified if someone expected her to tell a story. Arthur on the other hand seems to be a guy that knows the drill, especially with people.

52. Describe their weekend getaway? Hanako & Vincent: They actually don't require much. Literally. Regardless of the scenery they currently live in it all comes down to the premise of "Just the two of us" (hehe like that song), preferably reclused place, where they could be unbothered by others and have privacy. This way they could enjoy themselves in a simple but meaningful way by spending quality time together. It doesn't mean much if it's a five-star hotel, camping in some ghost town, or even a tour to another country (Like they did in my fic Amsterdam). They would definitely make it about their beloved, making sure to satisfy one another's needs and shower with love, understanding, and care. Wiosna & Jenkins: Oh they like to be spoiled. Though Wiosna would prefer some privacy, Jenkins always chooses the place where he can show off, yet hide in the comfortable walls of some penthouse when his lover is at the edge of complaining about people. Definitely, a place with nice views, that would make a great background for their vacation pictures, an exclusive beach just to add spiciness with unrevealed bodies. To Wiosna's favor, after having things to feed the sharks, both of them have an adventurous time together, mostly to work off that stress of a corpo life by enjoying themselves in bed.