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tacticalhimbo · 11 months ago

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CYBERPUNK 2077 NEW YEAR'S EXCHANGE

— Male V / Kerry Eurodyne —

WORDS: 1.1k

FANDOM(S): Cyberpunk 2077

WARNINGS: Mentions of Robbery / Break In, Casual Drinking

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Heya choom @wingedhorrors ! I've been paired with ya for this year's Cyberpunk 2077 NYExchange ( @cp77nyexchange ).

I absolutely adored learning about your V and his shenanigans (we live for chaos), and had so much fun tackling a little somethin' something with him and Kerry <3

Let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do!

Under a cut for length!

The sound of the holo ringing (again) was one of the last things Kerry needed to hear today. Honestly. The deals he'd been busting his ass over have gone to Hell and back. All that bouncing between studios and offices and for what? Oh, some shattered glass and some shutterbugs digging through his trash. The confrontation wasn't even the worst part of it, honestly. They'd frozen at the sight of THE Kerry Eurodyne, and it was easy enough to keep their attention until some badges rolled up and took them in. No, it was dealing with the media shit storm that came after the fact.

Exhausted face plastered all over the screens. Lights upon lights outside his home, shining in on him as he danced around the team of investigators and the cleanup crew. Constant interruptions asking if he was okay, if he was hurt, if he wants to have NCPD patrols stay behind, if he wants to press charges, if he wants—

Did anybody really give a damn what he wanted? No. So he rolled with it. Downplayed it as much as he could. Just some gonk looking to earn a few quick bucks by selling whatever their paws could latch onto. Musical memorabilia. Discarded garments. The fucking hair from his brush, if they were that desperate. And at the end of the day, he just wanted to drink himself to sleep and forget it all happened; hope to satiate the gnawing void in his gut. But the avatar that appeared in his peripheral was more than enough to bring up his mood and motivate him to answer.

"Heyy, V, what's up? Well, besides dyein' your hair again." Kerry couldn't help the low laugh that'd escaped him. It wasn't malicious by any means. "Looks good. Say, wanna come over and grab a drink? Could use the company."

"How can I say no?" A coy grin. "Be a little bit before I get there. Had to take care of some things out of town… You know how it is."

Kerry nodded along. He'd never made the trip himself, but he could always tell when V was out in the Badlands. The subtle static of the call. The obscured scenery. It'd be at least eighty 'til he made it all the way up to Villa Eurodyne. "See ya soon."

The silence that followed the end of their quick conversation was… uncomfortable. Tense, in a weird way. They'd met up like this a thousand times over but, that edge from earlier did little to smooth over. With all the time he'd had, Kerry figured he may as well get a head start and see where things went. And that's exactly what he did, floating toward the rich supply of booze and liquors he'd curated over the years. Gifts from others in the industry, personal purchases, remnants of brands who'd dove out of business with the increasingly cutthroat competition in the city… Huh. Sounded familiar enough. He guessed that's why his hand settled on a nice bottle of aged tequila. Why he'd dug through the collection of bottles for Angostura bitters, stirred in just enough agave nectar, and sprinkled a pinch of chili peppers atop the concoction.

Familiarity in failure; now that was comfort.

Time blurred as the rocker boy absentmindedly found himself a spot on the elegant couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table beside the goods as he downed one, two, three and more. Many drinks and many minutes passed him by, and right as he felt that familiar buzz tickling at his old bones, he heard the rough rumbling of Douglas.

"Door's open!" There was strain in his voice, syllables only just crawling from his throat as he sat up to pour a shot into the spare glass he'd set aside for V. "Oh, and uh—Don't—Don't mind the crime tape. Not my fault this time, promise."

"Yeah, heard something about a break-in on the radio. You good?" The nomad plopped himself onto the couch right next to Kerry, letting the light highlight the rich blue hue of his hair… and the vibrant colors of his jacket.

Kerry gave the outfit a curious glance over.

"Cheesy to say it, but think you're the brightest thing I've seen all day, V. Literally. Any inspirations for the vibe or…?"

"Nah, just going with the flow." Proud eyes peeked over the visor of his glasses. His gaze softened a bit, concern glossing over his eyes even as a sly hand reached for the shot. "But seriously, though, everything okay after the whole thing? Like, you were literally home when it happened."

Kerry briefly paused his own pour. "V, it's chill. You'd be the first to know if it wasn't."

"Uh-huh." A pause to kick back the liquor. "Well, if anything happens—"

"Call you, I know." A nod, and the tilt of his head to join his companion in drinking. "It's all settled, really. Fuckin' amateur this guy was. I mean, who the hell pulls a stunt like this and doesn't hide their face?"

V laughed. "Us? Remember when we met up to ambush that one transport? Who was it for… Oh yea, Us Cracks. You literally just wore a hat and called it a day. At least I tried to keep myself out of sight."

"Well—Come on, the hat did work. Sorta. Besides, your running was more than enough to keep us off any surveillance. And get everything done clean." Kerry couldn't help but laugh himself, shaking his head as he sunk back into the cushion.

A languid arm came to drape over his eyes, shielding his gaze from the light. Golden cyberware glistened beneath the overhead, accentuating the soft flesh between it. Bringing attention to the subtle hairs that needed a good shave. For a moment, he looked properly relaxed. At peace with the circumstances surrounding him, damned be the fact it'd all start over tomorrow morning when the sun rose past the horizon. For now? Such a concept was one of the last things on Kerry's mind.

Especially as he felt V sit back and nestle into the empty space beside him.

"Comfy?" A curious eye peeked open, an arm coming to rest upon the merc's shoulders and coax him closer.

"Hmm…"

The faint smell of dye lingering beneath Kerry's nose. The feeling of V's head upon his chest, shot glass in hand, as the distance was closed. The gentle, passionate connecting of their lips. A gentle hum as they settled against one another. The sounds of the city seemed to drown beneath the comforting blanket of affection that came over them. To be silenced by the sound of their still beating hearts. An equally silent reminder for the two of them that at the end of the day, they were both alive. Both safe.

And that was more than enough.

"Now I am." V smiled. Kerry smiled back.

#txt #my fics #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne #male v cyberpunk #kerry x v #wingedhorrors #cp77nyex #cp77nyex23

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choccy-zefirka · 7 months ago

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In the dark of night, the elevator screeches and groans its rusty way up from the garage and through the megabuilding's murky insides. Its endless grated shaft is filled with some sickly fumes, like a smoker's throat. But on the inside, its flimsy box is deceptively bright, all awash in the orange and pink of the giant monitor panel — here to distract people as they drag themselves down from their crammed apartments, towards a long day of whatever soul-shredding drudgery that earns their corporate overlords a few extra zeros on the dotted line, and then back up again.

The elevator's current passengers can very much distract themselves on their own, however. Their faces are a cloud of jittery pixels, obscured from any surveillance cameras by clever optic implants — but their bodies speak where wandering mouths and hungry eyes cannot. The man's back is pressed into the wall, legs wrapped around the woman's broad, muscular torso... Which almost appears pixelated as well, as she is covered in an elaborate pattern of abstract tattoos: huge patches of solid black, with slivers of pale skin spliced in between. Her jacket has flown wide open, with nothing underneath. Indecent exposure? To no-one but that unseeing, ever-smiling faces of TV hosts up in the screens. And, of course, the man she keeps pinned close — devouring him until the very Ding! of arrival. The elevator's, not theirs; they have a long way to go still.

They have to untangle their limbs then, and step out. A draft of air rushes over them, carrying the living breaths of all the souls that huddle trapped behind graffitied doors or sway in the distant corners, too deep in their own hazy little world to notice their good neighbor V stumble home topless and with company. This little breeze is far from pleasant — the one thing that never lets you forget you are in Night City, is the smell — but it has a bit of a sobering effect. Enough to let V form a coherent sentence or two, as she opens the door with a habitual fingertip press and invites her guest into the square of white light, almost blinding against the greenish darkness outside.

"Here you go. Bit nicer on the inside, yeah? Bathroom's over there if you need to wash up; Vik got me on the coil ages ago, but you might wanna grab a condom just in case. I oughta have a pack left, in the cabinet under the sink. Also got lube and all that gonk. All in there."

This is not the first time V has fired off this little intro speech to a very special nighttime visitor. Sometimes, it would be a no-strings-attached choom, here for a movie, a quick bang, maybe a couple of beers and a cig. More often than not, it would be a very obliging joy toy, in for a nice generous tip for work well done. And on very rare occasions, it would even be someone who might have become something different, something lasting, if shit hadn't kept happening and happening and happening.

If you told V yesterday that she was going to repeat this old song and dance again very soon, she'd shrug and say, "Yeah, preem, love the sound of that." But if you added that the person she'd be giving a tour of her bathroom knicknacks to was going to be Goro fucking Takemura — hair undone, snowy-perfect shirt rumpled, traces of her black lipstick blending the line between his skin and his dormant cybernetics — both she and the rude little joyrider in her skull would heave in guffaws of disbelief.

And yet, shit keeps happening and happening and happening.

This city has a way of washing over you, tossing you ‘round like a horrible fathomless sea of toxic waste... Until it chisels you down to a tiny kernel of beach glass. Small and insignificant and lonely. He's been feeling it too, a disgraced cyber-ronin far from home. S'pose it's a good thing she can help him do something about it. For him, and for her. After all, teasing the old man has always been a reliable pick-me-up, a buoy deep in the toxic sea. And this is basically teasing taken to the extreme.

They've been ever-clashing, ever-bickering chooms-through-forced-circumstance so far; and some day in the future, her skull-jacker might get proven right, and they will end up enemies. But tonight, it's time for distraction.

"V, your belongings are horribly disorganized, I cannot find... What is this?"

Takemura straightens up beside her cabinet. There is a small hand towel thrown over his arm; and in his hands, he is holding up a long, elaborate harness— with not one, not two, but three appendages attached to the front. Shaped very distinctly like tentacles.

V clears her throat and rests one hand on her hip as she leans into the bathroom’s doorway. Trying to look nonchalant.

Yeah. This is teasing taken to the extreme, all right.

"It's a gag gift from some gal chooms in the Mox. We were hanging out recently, before uh..."

Her breath catches, and not in the giddy-sweet way she would have liked it to, what with Talemura's eyes on her, dark and heavy and intent. In the split second that passes before she remembers to breathe again, it almost seems like there are splatters of red on her bathroom walls. Like back there. When Evelyn —

She blinks, and the tiles are clean again. She decides to slip back into the bathroom, cramped as it is with two people fumbling around, and wash her hands. Splash her face a little too. Her movements are idle, effortless, but her mind is scrambling to find the rhythm of casual conversation again — to leap on it like on a train that's speeding far away from her.

"Before some shit happened. The way it just keeps happening and happening and happening..."

She dries her hands off aggressively on Takemura’s towel, and the last memories of blood with them; then ducks into the cabinet, emerging with the lube he failed to find. And some wet wipes for good measure.

"So yeah,” she’s back in the doorway again, and back to acting so totally natural. “We were having drinks, and one thing after another, we began sharing stories of weird shit we stumbled into online. Not like, beyond-the-Blackwall scares or messed up snuff BDs, but harmless silly weirdness. So I ended up remembering how I was looking for... things, and somehow tumbled down an entire rabbit hole that led to hentai. As you do."

"As you do?"

Takemura follows her out of the bathroom, the tentacle set-up still in his hands, his eyebrows raised.

V snorts out a short laugh, and he smiles slightly to mirror her amusement. He is particularly beautiful when he does that, V thinks to herself, chewing instinctively on the piercing in her lip.

"Oh, I am sure you are too cultured for what makes us Western weebs get our jollies!"

"Hm."

They head for the nook where her bed is. She sits down, pants and jacket completely off, inviting. He presses his knee into the edge of the mattress and kisses her, while running his free hand along her neck and downwards. The motion is slow, and his lips linger on hers, as if he is mulling something over.

"Once in Tokyo, I went to an exhibition of nineteenth-century art that included shunga... erotic images. While it was not what I came there for, it was certainly... memorable."

"Tsk, Goro, what would your grandmother say!"

He huffs at her remark, not unamused — and then drops the harness into her hands.

"How does this work?"

She scoots over to make room for him, and runs her hands over the tentacles. Something pulses suddenly between her legs, and a sneaky glance at Takemura confirms that his own... interest has been going as steady as when they started kissing back in the car.

"I am not sure, I never actually tried it. I think you are supposed to interface with it, and then these little choombas will start moving... in time with your thoughts."

"I see. My implants are offline, so I am uncertain if I can use this on you..." he exhales softly, sliding his fingers under the hip strap of her panties and pulling them down, inch by sweetly excruciating inch. "To recreate the shunga... But you, on me — "

"That what you want?"

"Yes."

He says the word with that quiet laser focus intensity that first intrigued her when they started working together. The pulse thumps again, harder, and pressing her legs together does nothing to quiet it down.

So — gingerly, interrupting every motion to kiss him and grin at his rising moans of impatience — she gets down to preparations.

The harness rests heavy on her hips — no chafing so far; good. Somewhere, tiny ports click into place, and a tingly ripple courses through her, as data is shared between the toy and her body. This little gift is more high-tech that she thought; the girls really went all out for a simple "harhar tentacles" gag.

She is standing in front of the bed now, in all her nude, broad-shouldered glory. Some of her past hookups, especially those who'd spent too much time drooling over the chrome perfection of Lizzy Wizzy, were a bit put off when they peeled back her favorite biker leathers and saw the scars, and the muscles, and the full bush, and the stretch marks from awkward growth spurts back in her tiny-shithead, thinking-she-was-so-cool-cause-she-smoked-weed-once days. They’d hoped “her body would be nicer than her face”, also all tatted up to look like a skull mask, with a square jaw and broad lopsided nose (broken and reset way too many times); but instead, found her the same head to toe. Too rough around the edges, too mannish.

But Takemura, scowl as he might at the boorish ways of the Heywood thieves, never failed to drop a kernel of praise here and there, for a well-landed punch, a quick and deadly shot, a metal shutter rolled up bare-handed like it was tissue paper. And now, too, he gazes up at her, sprawled languidly on her mattress, like she is one of those works of erotic art back in a museum in his beloved Tokyo.

The warmth she feels at the thought, headier than a shot of the best tequila at the Coyote, resonates with the contraption over her crotch. The tentacles whirr to life, extending, unfurling, glistening with lube, their tips probing at the air, awaiting her mental command.

"Oh, this is fucking preem!" V exclaims through a laugh. The words are still hanging in the air, and her mind has already devised a plan. A quickhack to beat all quickhacks.

Now she is the one with her knee on the mattress, with Takemura right under her. The tentacles descend. One slides under his shirt — the parts of it that still cover him — and caresses the organic flesh, circling round his nipple, gliding down along the path of silver-dusted black hair, from his chest down his stomach. It’s more lean and trim than hers, but also crisscrossed by scars. Oh, she'd love to ask about them some day, if he is ever in that sincere, contemplative mood again, like he was during their stakeout on the roof.

He arches his back slightly, cursing in Japanese. His voice is so husky and slurred that V's translator does not pick up on it. But the sound of it adds to the drumming between her legs.

The second tentacle coils along his thigh, and V helps it get rid of his pants and part his legs. In all the fuss with the harness, he never did finish digging around for condoms, but at this point, she thinks they can go without them for a bit. She certainly relishes in watching his cock become fully erect, as perfect as the rest of him. Wonder if she can figure out a pose where she can both continue with the tentacles and get him off with her hand... Fuck, she'd love that.

The third tentacle teases around his buttocks, before finally slipping in, once V has made sure everything is comfortably stretched and lubed up.

Takemura writhes, his desperate huffs turning into long whines that she never thought him capable of... Perhaps he never thought himself capable of either.

The tentacle sinks deeper and deeper, while the other two continue trailing over the flushed, sweat-slick flesh.

"You are taking it really well. I love how great you're doing," V breathes out — and suddenly, Takemura grips the mattress like he would drown otherwise, and gasps for air.

As realization strikes V, the tentacles retract involuntarily. Takemura searches her face with bleary eyes, silently begging for the pleasure to return... But first, she hits him with a question.

"They don't praise you a lot at Arasaka, do they?"

He attempts to frown. To look serious. As if he is not naked and sweating and open for her to toy with.

"Do you... praise your gun... for not missing... the target?" he manages to croak.

V shakes her head, mentally commanding the tentacles to reach for him again.

"You are not a gun, though. You are a person. And fuck, you deserve to be told when you're good. Like right now. You are being so, so good."

Takemura grits his teeth, chest rising and falling.

"V, you wicked little — Gah!"

She has finally figured out the right angle to do... Pretty much everything. Two of the tentacles are wrapped around Takemura once more, and the third — the one that traced the contours of his shuddering, melting body — has bent back, sliding into V, playing with the inner folds, going further and further in, chasing that pounding heat to completion. All the while, she moves the ring of her fingers up and down his cock, in swift, tireless pumps, as if competing with her own toy over who makes him come first.

At the end of it all, she has a sneaking suspicion that the tentacle's won out. There is just more stimulation that way. Oh, the Mox sure delivered.

Takemura swears again; this time, the translator implant informs her loud and clear that he is screaming the Japanese equivalent of "Fuck!". He lurches under her, spilling all over her fingers... And shortly afterwards, the tentacle she stole for herself finishes its job as well.

She dissolves in her own release, a gleeful cry rising from the back of her throat, and collapses right into Takemura, panting, melding into one with him: a weird thrashing mess of bare legs and dripping black appendages.

"Oh, that was fun, wasn't it?" she nuzzles against him, basking in the warmth of the body — so real, so tangible, so soft and sated — that she thought for certain would remain forever at arm's length from her.

"I do not think I deserve this kind of pleasure," he says, quietly and bluntly. It is not self-flagellation; he fully believes every single word and states it as objective fact. "Not while I have a mission to follow. But..."

He kisses her on the temple, where a little vein still carries that elated pulse.

"It is you who has been good to me, V. Thank you."

"No, you," she grins. "You are so fucking good."

Takemura blushes, a rich, dark hue that clouds his face, his collarbones, and would have surely scorched his throat as well if any organic parts of it were still visible.

"Look at him," the by-now unusual solitude in V's head is disturbed yet again. "Of course the guard dog has a praise kink."

"Johnny..." V tries her best to silently channel her most convincing “Oh, you are in trouble now, young man” energy.

"All right, cool off! I am just worried for you, is all."

In her mind, she watches the flickering digital apparition raise his hand and rub his temples.

"Look. Sex in itself is as simple as a Sixth Street muscle honcho, but when you mix it with something else, things become a million times more complicated. Have all the naked corpo rubbing you want; I’ll make sure to check out. Just... Don't forget to make the right choices."

"Thanks. But I think I'm managing this just fine. Least for now."

In the real world, Takemura seems to be voicing objections of his own.

"You cannot call me good that when I did not even properly pleasure you."

"Well, there is always next time."

Her thoughts are still halfway in Johnny-space, and when they catch up with what she's saying, she is as stunned as Takemura.

They... They can't have a next time! Next time, she might be holding a gun to his head! They are supposed to be just glass pebbles in the poisoned sea, knocked together by chance, just for one night of distraction...

"Next time? Quite unwise. Dangerous for us both. But... Compelling," Takemura murmurs.

"You have seen many sides of me that few others have, V. And I, of you."

He takes her hand and begins wiping it clean. He is very thorough, methodical with every finger; ridiculous as it sounds, it reminds V of cleaning a gun.

"We are two foxes that know each other's scent. We hunt together, lay together — our nature now draws us to find a hidden nest we could return to together."

"Foxes, tentacles, what kind of damn zoo is this," Johnny laments, before fizzling into silence again.

"I wish our circumstances allowed for more... respite like this. Like our conversations over horrible food — "

Now in the middle of cleaning himself up, Takemura cuts himself short, a flash of thought in his augmented eyes.

"V, that disgusting greasy cardboard you chewed on the roof..."

She cocks her head a little, almost wincing with whiplash at the shift from Takemura's favorite fox metaphors to... this.

"Pizza?"

He wrinkles his nose.

"I know of pizza. That is Italian cuisine. Time-honored street food. But it seems that this city spits out nothing but waste paper approximations, regardless of country. V — we can afford to linger, I think, so let me be truly good to you."

He gets up, puts his underwear back on and strides to V's computer. With far too much confidence for an old man who accidentally texts people his search queries.

"What are you doing?"

"I am going to look up what ingredients one requires to make a pizza," Takemura declares, confidence still unwavering. "And prepare one for you. As a gesture of appreciation."

V feels her eyes bulge a little. Can't say she ever got thanked for tentacle pegging and a handjob with food. Which is a bloody shame, come to think of it.

... Shit, Jackie would be so on board with the idea. He'd do something like this for Misty in a heartbeat. He'd —

"I think I'll go take a shower," she mumbles, pressing her hand to her stomach, as if that will close the leering emptiness that digs out her innards now and again, whenever something reminds her of Jackie. She talked to Misty about this, as they nestled together on the footsteps of the Esoterica. Another pair of sea glass pebbles, so very small.

"Grief is absence," she said, a quiet melody in her voice — and fuck, it sure as hell is.

…This is not even the kind of shower you are supposed to take after sex. V just stands there, useless as a mannequin, balled fists pressed into the wall, hot water cascading over her. Time stops passing in this little box of vapor — another metaphor Takemura used once, describing the city... All she knows is that when she finally breaks her trance, finds a full-body towel to wrap herself in, and plods out, wet feet loud against the floor, Takemura is still on her computer, browsing... Very much not pizza recipes.

Somehow — she can guess how; he’s the type of guy to accidentally set his telephone's interface to a language he does not speak — instead of finding and downloading a list of ingredients, or whatever it was he planned to do, he has stumbled his way into the folder with her drawings.

Yeah, big shock. The tall, tattooed, mohawk-sporting street kid has a cutesy little hobby.

She's been practicing on and off for years — that was how she had her first brush with hentai actually; clicked one link too many when scouring the net for digital art tutorials. She never could make anything on it, never could "monetize her skills", as the folks in Atlanta pushed her to — but hell, she ain't no corpo rat. She doesn't owe it to anyone to “monetize” her every breath. Sometimes she just sees light filter through a dirty window in a curious sort of way, and tries to jot down all the yellowish hues it creates. Just because it's neat.

And maybe Takemura, with his fancy corpo education and arsenal of poetic quotes, would have understood that. Something something the beauty of fleeting moments, haiku poetry something something. But of course — of fucking course! — he has scrolled down and stopped the cursor not at her reimaginings of the holographic trees in Kabuki as the real thing, soft petals trailing in the wind; not at the blocky, half-surrealist painting of her megabuilding's elevator shaft as the choked-up, lesion-covered throat of a coughing smoker... But at all the sketches she made of him.

They are mostly squiggles in flaky, textured digital pencil, done from memory and lacking any sort of detail except around his eyes and mouth. Oh, and a couple attempts at using a brush that was supposed to emulate the sumi-e technique (and probably infected her computer with at least three viruses when she tried to get it downloading). He might find those ones particularly insulting. What does an uncouth merc know of recreating fine art — especially art that doesn't involve any scandalous stuff like tentacles?

V holds her breath, clutching the towel awkwardly to her chest. In a silence that churns like spilled oil, she watches Takemura watching his own likenesses roll by on the screen. Heads half-turned in quiet contemplation; outlines of hands clasped round the ghost of a coffee cup; so many pairs of eyes, age lines lovingly rendered, gaze sometimes cutting as sword's age, and sometimes soft and slightly sad. The real man has his back turned back to her; she cannot read the expression in the eyes that ponder their digital twins... Until he swivels around in her computer chair. And then,s she cannot bear to look. She would rather be back in that fucking landfill.

"Oh no," Johnny whispers in her head. And there is not a hint of gloating in his voice. He sounds like he... understands? Did he ever have someone stumble across his music that was meant to be private, hidden, especially from the person that inspired it?

"V..." Takemura says slowly. "Is this how you see me?"

"Sometimes," squeezing the words out takes up all of her mental strength, and none is left for as much as a sideways glance at him.

"What you are not being a pain in my ass."

"It is as I thought. We have revealed more of one another than we should have, but..."

At long last, she raises her head. His look is soft; flattered — what was she even afraid of? She just wrecked his prostate, for fuck's sake!

"But we are in too deep now, eh choom?"

"I suppose we are..."

For a moment, he turns back to the monitor.

"You have a talent, V. I wish you had met people who could see it, the way I did. Perhaps — "

"Fuck. Hate where this is going," Johnny growls. V cannot say she is too ecstatic either.

"Yeah, no. Not selling out to a corp," she snaps, despite herself.

"I like you, Goro. You just felt how much — "

Also despite himself, he blushes.

"But that's where I won't be agreeing with you. It's like..."

With a heavy sigh, she sits down on the bed, next to the discarded harness.

"Do you ever think what happened to all those other kids who washed their clothes in the same toxic ooze? Do you ever think about your chooms, Goro?"

He drums his fingers on the edge of her desk, then balls them into a fist. But eventually, the flash of anger in his face gives way to a wistfulness that makes him look so much like the soft charcoal portrait that has unfurled, full-screen, behind him. His expression beckons V to stand up, and walk up to him, and tuck a strand of silky greying hair behind his ear. He clasps her wrist, but does not pull her hand away — holding on, not breaking eye contact.

"In another life, I would have followed in my father's footsteps. Maybe I would have risen up to open a restaurant of my own, and invited them all to eat there."

"Wouldn't that have been preem?" V murmurs, and kisses his temple like he did hers. Finding that tender little pulse.

"And that pizza would be preem too. Here, old man, let me teach you how to use the Internet."

#cyberpunk 2077 #goro takemura #takemura x v #cyberpunk fanfic #this one is CITRUSY #there is a tentacle contraption involved #i did not take this seriously when writing so let's have fun together #original things

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snowddeong · 10 months ago

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Already had an idk how long hour rant session with Sarah about this shit but I'm still so annoyed so part 2 lmao

It's so profoundly frustrating and discouraging how itzy continues to be mistreated in every fucking facet you can imagine for the sin of literally being successful, talented women.

They're literally div 2's bottom line but the company acts like they're doing the girls a favour by even posting about their cbs on the accs that were literally made to promote itzy. We are just now getting some semblance of tiktok freedom 5 years into their career meanwhile idols that debuted after them have their own instagrams and their juniors in the same company have more freedom on all sorts of socials. We've confirmed that div 2 flubs so many of their opportunities for who knows what fucking reason after what happened with the CK Yeji event. And most importantly everything to do with Jisu — never fucking protecting her in any way, overwork, stifling her and the other girls' creativity, not utilising her voice well and every other fucking stupid thing they've done that's definitely made what she's going through so much worse. The girls are a cash grab to that fucking company (to the point we literally first learned about the cb and tour in the same post that was announcing Jisu's diagnosis) and they're not even allowed to express any frustration or sadness over that because "that's not professional" and they'd probably lose everything they've worked so hard for.

If they look sad you're not supposed to acknowledge to it or sympathise with it or treat them as human beings because it's "funny" to joke about how they want to get off work and anyway they're idols who gives af about idols anyway right? So called midzys are more concerned about making unfunny jokes than actually getting to know these girls. Every mf will say "ot5" then turn around and straight up hating certain members. Dehumanisation has become so fucking normalised in midzyville but then mfs will act surprised that the company gets away with this very obvious exploitation and mistreatment. If you view these human beings as a product that you can say whatever tf you want about on sites that you know they frequent because "it's just a joke lol" ofc the mfs presenting them as a product are going to benefit from it 😭

Then you have fuckass bitchass shitstain mnet and their hate boner for itzy. The largest number of most viewed videos on choom, the first choom performance to get more than 50 million views that's still consistently gaining more and more views, the first mix and max vid to get 50 million that's also still gaining views and gagged the kpop space so hard that Bebe Rexah released a korean specific version of break my heart myself and performed at fucking kcon because of Ryujin and Yeji, and their MAMA 2021 being the most iconic performance of that night (to the point that mnet decided to call back to it again last year mind you). You'd think wow hey these guys get us views let's be nice to them and keep them around.... but nah, deleted their iconic fucking performance that gave their boring award show relevance, deleted their debut stage, don't invite them to choom anymore, didn't even send ryeji their trophy or record something for Yeji when she got hers and then the bullshit that went on today lmao. Like it's so fucking obvious and you have to wonder WHY ffs

I have nothing against the group that won even though some of their stans are the most disgusting scum of the earth but like surely.... the numbers did not make sense. Even if you say itzy's digital points were too high okay fine that's just affirming that mnet isn't very honest with their numbers. They deleted itzy's untouchable stage for who knows what fucking reason then uploaded it later with reset views. How tf am I supposed to believe all this was above board when we've been beating that fandom in voting CONSISTENTLY even if they mobilised fandoms to help okay fine but did they enlist the whole of stantwt or something lmao how tf was the difference that great? Why were the sns scores so fucking weird when itzy untouchable shorts have consistently more views? Why is it "cope" or being a sore loser to call foul play when there's so much pointing to it being that AND mnet has a history of rigging??? The only real answer is it's because this happened to a girl group and specifically because this happened to itzy. They released one song people didn't like and suddenly deserve every terrible that happens to them is deserved and just "midzys complaining about nothing". And when it gets to a point where even the girls seem visibly frustrated and dissapointed? "Nah they just want to go home early lol don't read too much into it don't care"

This is so long and I feel like I could go on forever but tldr I just wish better for them man 🫠 every group is unique and important in their own way but itzy are really once in a lifetime performers. I know there's no such thing as a perfect world where everything goes smoothly especially for girl groups but fuck is it too much to ask for a little respect on their names and for everyone to leave them tf alone at the bare minumum 😭 itzy is the only group under div 2 just fucking do your jobs lmaooo

#snowdd.txt #big ol rant lmao

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magerightsyeah · 2 years ago

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To the End of the Line

Rating: T

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x Fem!V (platonic or romantic)

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, discussions of grief, hurt/comfort

Summary: V finally gets to mourn Jackie properly instead of hiding from her feelings

Her mouth was too dry for the pill she forced down her gullet, but she didn't care. V downed a gulp of rum from her flask to wash it down. Vik had probably said something about not doing that, but she needed something to dull the pain.

She hopped off her motorcycle, looking up at the Columbarium. Her hands were shaking and she almost regretted doing this alone. Maybe she should've asked Misty to come, or maybe Panam. A part of her even regretted taking the Omega Blocker, Johnny's ribbing always had a way of distracting her from whatever was bothering her.

But she couldn't let him see this, she needed something to herself, something that was all her own. Something he couldn't fuck up.

It wasn't the first time she'd gone to visit Jackie, but it was the first time in longer than she'd like to admit. It was the first time since right after his ofredna.

His niche was fairly out of the way, Mama Welles having scraped together all she could to get the nicest one she could provide. V had offered to pay, of course she had. But Mama Welles had refused, of course she had. The whole family was always far too proud for their own good.

"Hey Jacks." She said quietly, hands folded in front of her.

She raised her right hand and ran it across his name, glowing a soft blue against the grey concrete. She then moved to her throat, gently thumbing the bullet necklace Misty had gifted her. Once again she found herself missing Johnny's ever-present snark.

“So, I did it, kinda." She laughed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I mean, I'm dyin' so that's not great, but every fixer in town thinks I'm the biggest thing since Morgan Blackhand, so that's cool."

She paused, but she wasn't sure what she expected. An answer, maybe? Maybe she'd gotten too used to the dead talking back, meeting two in the last couple weeks. Three if she counted herself.

"Um, you got your drink, choom. I get it every time I go to the Afterlife, which is pretty often..." She sniffed. "Misty misses you, talks about you all the time. Mama too, I try to be there for them but… you know I was never good with the emotional stuff. They've been helping each other, I think…. it's nice, I think" She shook her head. "Of course it's nice, what I meant was just-"

V leaned her head against the concrete. "Fuck, Jackie. I miss you, I miss you real bad." She shuddered, unable to stop the tears that now fell at full force. "It's hard, Jacks, goin' on without you. Sometimes I'll be on a job and I'll turn to look, expectin' to see your stupid grin at just blowin' some gonk away but…… And then I just get this sinking pit in my chest that I just can't get rid of."

She shuddered

"I fucking hate being alive without you, Jackie." She pulled back, gently running a finger over his name. "Sometimes I can't wait for this stupid chip to kill me. I don't know if I agree with Mama and Padre about what comes after, or even Misty. But, fuck, at least it'll stop hurting so fucking much."

"Shit, V."

She jumped, instinctively drawing her gun and pointing it in the direction of the voice.

Johnny didn't flinch, why would he?

She didn't bother to wipe her eyes, allowing her tears to trickle down her reddened cheeks. "What the fuck are you doing here? I took the blockers."

He shrugged. "They wore off a couple minutes ago, thinkin' they probably aren't as effective anymore.”

She cursed, holstering her gun and turning away from him. "So you couldn't give me a little bit of fucking privacy then? Not a single moment alone to mourn my fucking choom? Haven't you ever lost someone before?"

"Yeah, that's why I know you shouldn't be alone right now."

There was a sincerity in his voice that she hadn't heard before, at least not in her own memories. There was something in his though, but she couldn't quite reach it.

“C'mon, I need to show you somethin’”

V furrowed her brow, but followed as the engram led her through the Columbarium to the very back.

“Alt’s niche?”

He shook his head, and pointed to the one up and to the right of it.

Robert John Linder 1988 - 2003

She racked her brain, trying to find someone by that name in his past. But she came up empty.

“Who was he?”

“That's my name- or, it was. After I deserted I changed it, I left that man behind. I saw friends die, I saw brothers die. Better men than me, men who deserved to live way more than I ever did. And they died for nothing, for a stupid fucking corpo dick measuring contest.”

"Johnny-“

“So yeah, V, I lost people. Even before Alt and fuck I think those hurt more. I know how it feels, that survivor's guilt that fuckin' eats you alive: But I couldn't die, I knew I was meant for bigger things. I knew I was gonna fuckin' do something with my life. And so are you, V”

She couldn't meet his eyes.

“You ain't gonna die, V. We're gonna find a way to fix this"

She lifted her head, smiling slightly. "We huh?'

It was hard to tell behind his dark sunglasses, but V was pretty sure he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, V. We. I'm with ya, to the end of the line.”

“To the end of the line.” She agreed.

#my writing #fanfiction #cyberpunk 2077 #jackie welles #johnny silverhand #fem!v #johnny x v #johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand & v #hurt/comfort #angst #tw sui ideation #crossposted on ao3 #ao3 #queue #one shot

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sanstropfremir · 1 year ago

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hi hellooo pleasure to be here again!! i have come to rant

so last night i went a bit through your blog because i vaguely remembered that at some point there was a conversation about "stage presence" and how only kpoppies give a shit about it. and i found some asks from last year about this youtuber who made like a whole classification on stage presence with all this masculine overt dominant whatever categories. and i was mindblown because just yesterday i got recommended one of their videos and i was watching that stuff like wtf. that took me back to my early kpop days (which is like 2018 lol) when i also discovered the term stage presence and i thought i did something. anyway

i actually came here to talk about shinee's recent comeback!! from the little i've seen, there's some beef among shawols regarding wether shinee is really "shinee" anymore and i've seen some people saying they've unstanned bc of hard. like you do you ig

i've been thinking that i genuinely like the song, but indeed it doesn't have that classic shinee vibe. (also satellite best bside???) to me it's just like taemin key onew and minho got together to sing a song, but it's not "shinee" per se. and that's okay.

regarding performances i only watched the studio choom dance version and tbh for the first time in my limited shinee eras knowledge i thought that minho takes the cake for this one. idk if it's the fact that he's more stereotipically masculine (or at least coming across that way) or what, but honestly his part in the second chorus is my favorite. key is second favorite and again his part in the last chorus suits him a lot imo especially with the different choreo for it. as for taemin i'm glad he's bringing his poppiest pops forward because i swear i feels like that man's bones are snapping inside his body but other than that honestly i don't think he's enjoying this era too much fdjdvscg

hi hello again!!!

alksdjflksdafj not that youtuber again....they're a fucking plague i need them to read a fucking book for the love of god. just so profoundly uninformed, its mind boggling.

i've seen variations of this take since before the song even came out and honestly? i don't agree. you can not like the song for any number of reasons but the fact of the matter is that it IS a shinee song. what makes a shinee song is that it's their voices. that's all that makes a shinee song. for a group that has an extended history of genre experimentation, for fans to get mad or say it's "not them" when they DO do something experimental is cowardly and embarrassing. just admit that you don't like the song and move on. there will be a time when EVERY artist you love makes something that you don't. that's fine and normal. don't hide behind incorrect assertions like "it's an nct reject" or that it doesn't sound like them. they're artists that still want to explore and grow and they have agency to do that. it's not a failing to admit that you don't like something that your faves made, and i also think it's rude and denies them identity and agency to say that 'it doesn't sound like them', especially with this particular group.

personally what i think people are subconsciously getting at when they say a song doesnt sound like shinee is that it sounds incomplete because it's missing a voice. the same discourse circled around with dcm came out and people are not acknowledging that shinee is never going to sound the same as they did pre 2017 (2018 technically bc jonghyun's voice is still on tsol). they just aren't. the chemical makeup of the melodies is going to be different forever and people need to acknowledge and accept that. the four of them are doing their best to fill in that hole and theyre doing a great job, but there is still a hole.

#the ire here is not directed at you obvs lol ive just been seeing a lot of ppl saying stupid things and it's annoyed me deeply #obvs everyone is entitled to their own opinions and i think it def hasnt helped that jinki isnt here so it sounds especially incomplete #but personally i think its so disrespectful to them to say that its not a shinee song when they always talk about wanting to push themselve #musically and artistically. if you dont like the genre or think they did it badly whatever i dont care about that #but to deny them artistic agency is rude af esp for a group that wants to keep making different types of music #and also to say that they dont sound like shinee (without jonghyun) is like.......................................#extra disrespectful imo. to them and to him. theyre STILL shinee. its gonna be a different shinee but they ARE shinee #text #answers #shinee w #n e ways. nice to hear from you again! i hope youre well!

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redheadrae · 2 years ago

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Stumbled on a WIP that I haven't touched in a year and I'm in some Johnny/Rogue feelings again. GOD. I love writing them post-bang.

Rating: M Pairing: Johnny/Rogue Warnings: They're just. Chronically mean to each other. Status: Super not finished lol ***Takes place in 2019

Post-coitus, Rogue expects him to say something vulgar, so she’s surprised when he raises his hand to cup her cheek. His gaze locks on hers, and if she wasn’t such a stubborn cunt she would have looked away first. Her green eyes stay fixed in the espresso color of his until he swallows and glances back down at her bare stomach, hands sliding from her face to run through his hair. She almost wishes he’d said something vulgar, instead of whatever this is. With a hand on his chest, she eases him backwards, sliding off the sill and leaving him to stare out the window by himself. “Gonna give me the silent treatment?” he snorts, crossing his arms and turning back around. He turns just in time to catch his pants when she tosses them over. “‘M not,” she clips. She walks over to her dresser. His bitter scoff doesn’t need to make her as annoyed as it does, and it’s really not fair that she’s acting like such a bitch right now. Rogue yanks a bra and a pair of sweatpants on, then huffs and rubs her forehead. “Look, Johnny, I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know. Thought that I’d feel sated, and I did for a second, but now I just feel guilty.” "For fuckin' your boyfriend's choom? Shocker." "Shit, Johnny. Do you ever wake up and think 'Hey, maybe I don't have to be such a fucking asshole today'?" "Probably about as often as you wake up and decide not to be a cunt." Rogue rolls her eyes. "For the record, we're not together." Johnny laughs, actually tosses his head back and runs his hand over his mouth, "Well, la-dee-da. Apologies for not bein' able to keep track anymore. You two are on and off more than most light switches." Rogue wants to smack the self-satisfied smirk off his face. A lot of things have changed in the ten years they've known each other, but that isn't one of them.

#Cyberpunk 2077 #Rogue Amendiares #Johnny Silverhand #WIP #cyberpunk fanfic #cp77

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cockasinthebird · 2 years ago

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So like I said earlier, I started writing the cyberpunk 2077 AU, and, well, here it is! 5 whole pages, not M nor E yet, but that will come, just you wait hehe ;)

The music of Afterlife beats like a heart, ironically enough, since the place used to be a morgue, the slaps now used as tables around the space, with a big, fancy bar in the middle. Oddly big for a morgue if you ask Billy, but he won't complain, got good booze, especially the Jackie Welles one, "with a splash of love" or some shit, whatever that is.

But tonight he's not here for the drinks or to watch the dancers in the water filled tubes, although he does give Claire a friendly nod as he passes by. No he's here to meet some fixer that gave him a short message asking to meet up and that was it.

"Come by Afterlife, got a job for you."

He's not even sure what they look like or where at the bar they'll be, so he's stuck wandering around in circles like some kind of lost gonk.

And just as he grits his teeth with annoyance, ready to delta, someone approaches him.

"So you must be the merc everyone's always talking about. Even Rogue."

Billy turns around to face the prettiest fucker he's ever seen, slightly taller than himself, especially with that poofed up hair, and a pristine suit - awfully clean, like it hasn't ever seen a day of hard work before. Same goes for his clean skin, moles dotted across it as the only blemishes, no scars, no tech on him.

"Yeah, maybe so." He licks his lips that turn into a grin. "What's it to you?"

"Might be a lot, might be a little, really depends on you." The fixer smiles with a hand on his hip.

Billy gives him a quick scan, no affiliation. "Just give me the detes, don't got all night."

The brunette sucks his teeth and gives Billy a certain look from head to toe. "Shame you're in such a hurry… don't wanna get a drink, talk it over proper?"

"Why, you paying?" Billy crosses his arms but keeps his well amused smirk.

"Sure, first round's on me - last round? We'll see."

The merc very much enjoys the tone of his new fixer, and the way he near sensually watches him as they walk to the bar.

“A Johnny Silverhand, and…” The man in the snazzy suit looks to Billy as they order from Claire.

“A Jackie Welles.”

“Haven’t heard of that one before,” he admits and leans on his elbow on the countertop, whilst Claire quietly pours them their drinks.

“Yeah, well…” Billy avoids eye contact, looks away as he tries to forget Arasaka. “Trying to get it to catch on.”

They both bottom their glasses in one go, although he doesn’t miss how the fixer stares at him even when doing just that.

“You sure you don’t want a more… private setting?” he suggests and the other man huffs a laugh.

“Why, are we chooms all of a sudden? No I know you merc types well enough to want a more public scene, besides, this won’t take long.”

“Do I at least get a name?”

“Of who? Me or the client?” The brunette grins knowingly.

“Who do ya think?”

“Stephano Harrington, but you can call me Steve.” Steve extends his hand, and Billy shakes it firmly. “Manners, nice.”

“Yeah, well, my ma taught me right.”

“And your pa?”

Again Billy has nothing to say, nothing he wants to say at least. Spilling personal details to a stranger is a danger in Night City. “So what exactly does the client want from me?”

“It’s really very simple, there’s a van with some goods in it, and I need you to klep it for my client to an address that they have chosen for you two to meet at,”

“Nothing’s ever simple in NC, and this? Sounds too easy.”

“Well maybe I’m an easy guy, maybe I needed an easy merc, who’d take on an easy job.”

Billy can’t help but ponder if there’s a double entendre there or not, but there’ll be time to figure that out later, if the way this Steve Harrington looks at him has anything to say.

“Sure then, shoot me the detes and I’ll get to it.” Billy rises from his seat.

“You don’t want to know about the payment?”

Eyes bluer than the ocean ever was looks Steve up and down. “I’m sure a guy like you will pay more than what’s fair, and besides we’ll meet after - still owe you a last round.”

It was far too easy to find, down by the docks in Watson Northside, fresh off the boat. The workers there were easily paid off, something mr Harrington will have to reimburse of course, and the doors to the container creaked open like sesame. Inside he found a teal colored van, otherwise unmarked and would probably be a bit suspicious to drive around in, but hey, a job’s a job, and Billy is a professional, takes it all very seriously. He tries to be as non-lethal as possible when going anywhere in this city, but he won’t shy down from a brawl if need be; has helped the NCPD plenty of times with their psychos and gang bangers.

The ride is smooth, not a lot of hard work required, just from point a to b, Watson to some megabuilding in downtown city center. It isn’t till there’s a bump on the road and a few voices gasping behind him that he senses something is very very wrong.

He finds the closest alleyway to back into, parks there, then rushes behind to get a look at this precious cargo he’s transporting.

Seven women and two men all whine as the harsh daylight hits their eyes where they’ve gotten used to the darkness they’re caught in.

“Oh shit.” Billy turns his back to them all, shoulders raised and tense, teeth gritting as he dials up Harrington.

“Billy,” he chimes as he picks up, “How’s it looking? Found the cargo alright?”

“Yeah I did, but you didn’t fucking tell me we were trafficking humans!”

“Oh look, a merc with a heart of gold, how quaint. So what does it matter? The client didn’t ask for a judge and jury for this job, they asked for someone to safely transport the goods.”

“This is not okay! Tell me who your client is and I’ll have a talk with them myself!”

“No that won’t do, but if you’re gonna be such a pussy about it, allow me to explain some, will you?”

Billy clenches his fists and turns to look at the very confused people who haven’t fled the scene yet for some reason. They’re not shackled or poorly dressed or anything, just… sitting there staring.

“Go on.”

“They’re fugitives.”

“What?”

“Yeah, fleeing from bad pasts all across the country, trying to come into Night City in hopes of a brighter future, all that bs that the advertisements sell us.”

“Is that the truth?”

“We may not know each other very well, Billy, but trust me, I don’t lie.”

“Excuse me, sir?” a timid and gentle voice asks as one of the women approaches Billy. “Is this where we get off?” she asks as if she’s on the bus.

“N-no, we still have a bit to go, so just sit down again, yeah?” he tries to speak as kindly as possible. “Harrington, we’re not done yet.”

“I didn’t assume so.” And without a goodbye, Steve hangs up the phone.

Billy stamps in past the bouncer and up to where Steve is spending another night drinking his Johnny Silverhand alone at the bar, eyeing up every piece of meat around him.

“Hello Billy-”

“Why didn’t you just fucking tell me?!” The blonde flares his nostrils and scowls at the other.

“Would it have saved us any questions and time?” Harrington asks almost politely and swirls his drink around in the square glass.

And the way he asks takes Billy off guard, making him take a step back to consider his answer. “Probably… probably not.”

“Exactly, and it was a time sensitive job clearly, so I didn’t think it prudent for you to know every single detail in the moment. Would you have said yes, then?”

The blonde sits down and waves for Claire to pour him his usual. He has calmed down considerably and a drink would take off that final edge. “I’d like to think so, yeah, again given you’re telling the truth.”

“And would you have believed me that they were willing participants if you hadn’t seen it for yourself?”

“No.”

“Then that’s that! Client was very happy, I’m happy, hopefully you’ll be happy with the payout.”

Just then, 2k eddies is transferred to Billy’s account, and he gapes. “Mr. Harrington, if you pay this well for something as simple as a transport op, this’ll be a very fruitful partnership.”

Billy gives a friendly slap to Steve’s back just as he takes a sip, making the finer man cough up a lung and spewing his drink all over the bar.

Claire pauses with her hands on her hips and a very displeased expression.

But Harrington still smiles all the same as usual, and turns to look Billy straight in the eye.

“Well Billy, I believe so too.”

Then he places his hand on Billy’s thigh.

#Harringrove #AU #CP AU

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eggdue · 2 years ago

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purgatory. Edgerunners X Madness Combat.

"whatever choom, like i give a shit.."

BANG!

David awoke with a startle, heart racing and back itching. David put a hand on his forehead, expecting to be met with his cyberware improved arms, were instead his pre-chrome junkie body. David stared at his arm for a moment. "wha..." he asked himself.

a bright flash of light blinded David, the boy turning to find the source, but when he took in his surroundings, he froze;

instead of the neon-lighted night city, or even the outskirts, he was met with a endless plain. rock-masses floated freely, only held by loose rusted chains. random structures were also there, pars of walls, some tech older than David himself, and many, many bodies.

David shuddered, looked at his hands again, before looked around him again. he was on one of these rock structures, it was pretty long.

the boy lifted himself from the gravel he laid on, before making his way forward, jumping from rock to rock, utilizing his sandavistan to help with the bigger and more difficult jumps.

eventually, he took a moment to cool off, using the sandy was making his head hurt, and while he was in this shape, a man turned the corner, but... the man was odd.

a cross substituted his face, and his skin was grey. the man stopped as he looked at him, seeming scared, before another man came from behind the first, dawned with red shades and a suit with a red tie, he held an outdated gun to David. "the fuck?! that a human?" he grunted. David would have asked what they meant, but there was a gun in his face.

then, the seconded mans head exploded, the first one jumping away and turned behind him. "WAIT-!" then, the other man was shot a few times, before falling off the rock, screaming into the nothingness below.

David turned his head from the falling man back to the attacker, being met with a similar man, dressed with a over-coat, gauze wrapped hands, a backpack, headphones and a visor. the man held dropped the gun, before sighing. "hey kid, new to purgatory?" he asked calmly. David, not knowing what to do now, nodded. the man seemed to smile at him. "thought so, how long since you woke up?"

"a-about an hour ago.?" David wasn't sure how long had passed, but an hour sounded right. the man grimaced. "christ kid, must be scared shitless huh?" David nodded a bit. the man sighed before walking over, holding out his hand. "name's Deimos, yours?" he asked.

the boy grabbed his hand and was surprised at how easily he was lifted. "D-David..." he said. the man nodded back. "well then david, allow me to show you the ropes here, c'mon, grab a gun and follow me." Deimos then picked up the pistol the red shaded man had pointed at David earlier. pulled out the mag and inspecting it. " 'bout full too, heh, lucky me." he said, pushing it back in and racking the slide.

David gulped and padded himself down, finding the old Lexington that Maine gave him. he took a breath and followed Deimos as he made his way form rock to rock.

hopefully, there might be an escape, but that was just hope, and David knew not to keep his hopes high.

#david martinez #cyberpunk #cyberpunk edgerunners #madcom deimos #deimos madness combat #deimos #madness combat #madcom #crossover #dedmos

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thundertwig · 1 year ago

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whatever choom, like I give a shit

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kyonkyonson · 2 years ago

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You know what? Fuck it...

CRIME IN PROGRESS: CIVIL UNREST

LOCATION: ARASAKA PLAZA

CALCULATING ROUTE...

SURVEY MODE:

TARGETS IDENTIFIED: CORPORATE SECURITY, ARASAKA, ARMORED DIVISION

CIVILIANS IDENTIFIED:

ADULT MALE: 1

ADULT FEMALE: 2

ADULT MA--

UNIDENTIFIED TARGET: 1

HEAVY CYBERNETIC AUGMENTATION DETECTED

CHANCE OF CYBER-PSYCHOSIS: 90%

ARREST MODE:

CALCULATING ASSAULT ROUTE...

ALERT. TARGET IDENTIFIED. APPROACHING AT HIGH VELOCITY

IMPACT IMMINENT. COLLISION WITH CIVILIAN IMMINENT.

CALCULATING INTERCEPT VECTOR...

CALCULATION COMPLETE.

CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL INTERCEPTION: 95%

EQUIPPING: SPT32 GRAD...

INTERCEPTION SUCCESSFUL

INITIATING CLOSE-QUARTERS SUBROUTINE...

EQUIPPING: JKE-X2 KENSHIN...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"GET BACK, FUCKER!" The feral little woman screamed over blast after blast from the cannon gripped in her over-sized metal hands. The slugs pinged and plinked off her target; its outline staggered, stumbled, but it would always turn, and its red eyes would burn out of the shadows, and it would come closer, closer...

"I said STOP!" She roared, slamming back the slide and tilting the barrel up at the red eyes. She held her breath...

...then it was knocked out of her as a black mechanical arm slammed into her chest. She sailed backwards with empty hands, and landed painfully on a pile of rubble. She wheezed loudly, and did not move.

"STAY STILL, RUNT," a voice between grinding metal and electronic noise spat at her. The figure grabbed the shotgun with both hands. It bent inward, and the body snapped in two, unspent slugs spilling over the ruined ground. "I'LL DEAL WITH YOU NEXT."

It faced its other target. He had the face and body of a young man...and nothing else. All four of his limbs had been torn apart, reduced to scrap. Machinery poked through gashes in his skin, sparks flashed from his ruined eye. He lay in the wreckage of some mechanical exoskeleton, with large portions of it still stitched onto him. As the figure loomed closer, he could only thrash his head and grimace.

"ANY MORE SURPRISES, PUNK? ANOTHER SNIPER TO GIVE ME TROUBLE?" It placed a claw over the dent in its torso, the mark of a high-caliber round. "I DIDN'T THINK YOUR TYPE PLANNED THAT FAR AHEAD."

If the young man could spit, he would have.

"YOU KNOW," and the grating voice became almost wistful, "I HAVEN'T ENJOYED MYSELF THIS MUCH IN A LONG TIME. I SHOULD THANK YOU FOR THAT."

The young man curled what was left of his face into a sneer. "Whatever, choom..." he growled. "Like I...give a shit..."

The figure showed no expression. "SUIT YOURSELF. YOU WERE ALL GONNA DIE TONIGHT ANYWAY." It raised its right arm. A small tube slid out behind its wrist. The open end glowed yellow, and grew brighter and stronger. The young man closed his eyes, and lay his head back with a smile...

The figure jerked its head to the ceiling of the wrecked garden. It dashed backward, swung its glowing arm upward. A streak of light fired out, struck the ceiling, sent more debris tumbling to the ground.

But it had missed. With a whoosh of air, something crashed into the space were the figure had just stood. Dust kicked up and blocked it from sight. The three witnesses thought it was another shard of concrete or loose bar of steel.

Then, with a whirring of servos, it stood. A patch of light from one of the many holes in the roof cut through the swirling dust, and reflected off of gleaming silver. The little woman was only just regaining her senses and could not speak, even if she knew what she was seeing. The young man craned his head as high up as he could.

"...who the hell is that?"

"YOU." The figure ground out with a wrathful edge. "I THOUGHT I LEFT YOU FOR SPARE PARTS IN DELTA CITY."

"I was fixed. You should know what that's like." The newcomer's voice carried the same synthesized bite, but it was calmer, sterner.

More human.

"DOESN'T MATTER ANYWAY. OCP'S GOT NO AUTHORITY ON THIS COAST. YOU'RE NOT THE LAW HERE."

The newcomer's face was almost completed blocked by a steel visor. The downward curl of his exposed mouth was enough to convey his mood. "I'm not here on any corporate orders, Smasher."

"STILL TRYING TO PLAY GOOD COP, HUH? YOU HAVEN'T CHANGED, OLD MAN. SO WHAT'LL IT BE? 'DEAD OR ALIVE, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME'?"

The newcomer raised his right hand. The light from the street fell on the weapon he held: sleek, silver, heavily modified, potent. "'Alive'? Not this time..."

"SO IT'S PERSONAL, THEN?" The figure gave a harsh, metallic chuckle. "GOOD! MORE MEAT FOR THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE!"

The newcomer turned his head, saw the two laying behind him. The little woman was too shocked and stunned to react. The young man just stared from his wrecked body. He felt as if he could see through the thin black visor looking back at him, felt real eyes, caring eyes, watching him.

Then a corner of the newcomer's mouth tugged upward, into the smallest hint of a smile.

Before the young man could speak, the newcomer nodded and turned away. He stepped forward, whirring and clicking with each fluid step, put more space between the figure and the victims. Shockingly, the figure stepped back; when the newcomer leveled his weapon, pointed squarely at its chest, its red eyes flickered with apprehension. A low, synthetic growl issued from its voice box; a final warning.

The newcomer planted his feet, weapon at the ready. He accepted the challenge.

"Your move, creep."

*robocop activates sandevistan*

#cyberpunk edgerunners #robocop #writing #drabble #total fanwank #i'll admit it #crossover

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woosansang · 3 years ago

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top 5 woosang moments ;)

oh my god are u kidding me sdhjkfhsajfsd HOW AM I MEANT TO CHOOSE FIVE ONLY OMG I COULD PICK LIKE FIVE VLIVES ALONE SDHJFKSHDFSJ

in no particular order:

1. first thing that comes to mind is of course muk wooyoung episode 4. i love it SO MUCH, yeo is SAVAGE and there r so many adorable moments that show their long, close friendship, like woo warming up the rice for yeo even though he then turns around and roasts the fuck out of him, or like yeo ordering chicken bc it's funny to do that while woo is cooking, but then giving him the drumstick that he never shares with anyone. i am SO SOFT FOR THEM <333

2. similar but also amazing is the cooking vlive they did together. theyre always making fun of each other, yeosang doesnt know how to flip a damn egg or whatever they were making shjkdfs i dont remember. also. woo pulling yeo by the apron?.... 👀 yeah.... 👀

3. i have mixed feelings abt this for a few reasons, but That Christmas Vlive.... above everything, ignoring how some atinys treat(ed) yeo vs woosan, i just love them being honest with each other and coming clean about something that had clearly been an issue for a while. i wish it didnt have to be in such a public manner, but, for whatever we as fans can see, their friendship is just as strong as ever after that, so i am immensely glad they worked things out <3

4. on a far less serious note, the iconic corndog moment is hilarious. top 5 anime betrayals <333 also this video as a whole, them feeding each other and being playful is just <3 adorable

5. this has happened a few times and i'll put two here that come to mind immediately, but every time yeo dies laughing when woo does something that's even remotely considered funny. the seasons greetings 2022 is a beautiful example of that but also the fireworks studio choom behind. i just love yeosang, arguably the funniest member in the group, losing his absolute shit at the slightest thing when tbh woo isnt even being funny in those moments, yeo just has so much love for him that he's amused by everything and i love that so much <3

bonus 6. for their best tour moments earlier this year: yeo dabbing and this time WOO losing his shit over it. and woo showing yeo his family in the audience and yeo giving them the biggest smile and wave <3 <3 <3

ask me my top 5 anything!

#asked #jeongyunho99 #hanaa 💕#woosang #cant believe u made me choose <///3 THIS WAS SO HARD SHDJFKSHD #thank u though i loved flicking through these videos to screenshot the moments <3 #your honour i love them SO MUCH <3 #jazzy has opinions

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blossom-hwa · 3 years ago

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inspired by wooyoung’s aotm studio choom cover, I'm not over it and I never will be

wc: 1.9k ~ wooyoung x gender neutral!reader ~ model!au ~ triggers: a little suggestive towards the end (NOTHING EXPLICIT) ~ ateez masterlist

sequel: golden hour

[ you’re the only one who matters ] “All right, we’re done for today.” You step back from Wooyoung, pull several pins out of your mouth, and smile at the others. “Thank you guys – remember to come early tomorrow, five if you can, six at the latest. Hongjoong’s going to be here to see how things are going, so we all want to leave a good impression.”

A murmur of assent passes through the small crowd of staff as they begin to take down the equipment lining the studio. You begin packing up your own things, folding leftover pieces of cloth and putting your pins and needles away – Wooyoung said he was going to wash off his makeup and he was still wearing his modeling clothes when he left, so you’ll have to wait to put those away when he gets back.

Most of the staff has left by the time you hear Wooyoung stepping back into the room. That’s normal, but you do wrinkle your brow when you don’t see Yeosang anywhere in the room. “Yeosang isn’t taking you home?” you ask.

“He has some late night errands to run,” Wooyoung says. His footsteps grow closer and you force yourself to stay focused on sorting your supplies neatly instead of turning around to meet his eyes, which will no doubt send you into some sort of semi-calm heart attack. “I said you could give me a ride.”

You roll your eyes. “I never would’ve taken you that first time if I knew you were just going to scam rides out of me every other day.”

“Yes, you would’ve.” You can hear the grin in Wooyoung’s voice even if you don’t turn your head to meet it when he joins you by the worktable, fingers reaching out to help put some things away. “I was sick, you couldn’t ignore me!”

With a sigh, you turn around, ready to either say something witty or tell him to go away. Then you stop, eyebrows furrowing, because –

“Wooyoung, why haven’t you changed?”

He’s still in the silk outfit you had him trying on for the last shoot. It hugs his body like a dream, and the cloth almost shimmers even under the dim lights – a pinprick of pride explodes in your chest as you take in the scene once more. It’s art well done. Even you can admit that.

Said pride quickly melts away into confusion, though, and it only heightens when Wooyoung grins, stepping closer. Silk brushes against your hand before you manage to move yourself away. “Wooyoung?”

“I wanted to ask you how I look!” He spins around in a small circle, letting the jacket splay out elegantly behind him as he twirls once, twice. “You never said anything the whole day, don’t I look good?”

You force yourself to meet his eyes when he stops, to not stay focused on the hints of skin showing around the sleeveless shirt underneath the jacket made of silk, silk that you spent so much time huddled over on that one mannequin right over there, silk that was made for Wooyoung and Wooyoung only and it’s kind of unfair how handsome he looks right now –

You blink. “You don’t need me to say anything for you to know you look good, Wooyoung.”

“But I want to hear you say it.” His lips jut slightly in a pout. “What, you don’t think I look nice?”

Far from it. So far from it. Wooyoung looks beautiful, sensual, sexy – literally the picture of what you wanted to bring to life when you first sketched this outfit, then when you sketched him in it. But for some reason, you can’t say it – the words jumble together in your throat, blocking them from reaching your lips out of embarrassment or shyness or whatever, so you just avert your eyes and turn around. “You have a small army of people telling you that you look fantastic on any given day, Woo. The whole country and half the world thinks you’re the hottest shit since humanity discovered fire.” Turning back, you raise an eyebrow. “Why –”

Your voice dies away when Wooyoung places a hand on the table, leaning in close, too close, far too close for your poor heart to handle. Through the haze of your mind and the beating of your chest – God, what kind of perfume did he use today, he smells so good – you can see silk, black silk, so much silk – the jacket that you stitched and altered, the shirt you cut and sewed and fit to Wooyoung's figure. Pale skin peeks out where the shirt separates from the jacket and you have to tear your eyes away –

Only they land on his torso instead, where the shirt doesn't so much stick to his body as fall forward loosely when he leans in just a little closer, displaying more smooth skin and a hint of his chest and abs, oh God, abs – you felt them when you were doing the last fittings but you'd put them out of mind until now.

Stop thinking. You blink hard once, fingers gripping the edge of the worktable behind you, trying not to remember the planes of his stomach under your hands as you smoothed silk over his skin. Blatantly ignoring how close he is – inches separate your bodies, really, not a lot more – you look up, opening your mouth to tell Wooyoung to move, that he needs to change and you need to pack the rest of this up before you two can leave.

But he's staring. He's staring and when you meet his eyes he traps you under his gaze, dark eyes even darker than they were under the glaring studio lights, darker even than that night at dinner weeks ago when he reached over and adjusted your necklace, fingertips lingering longer than they should have on your skin. Your lips freeze and so does your entire body – you can't even get out the simple "Wooyoung?" that will convey the need for you two to go.

He raises an eyebrow slightly, so slightly. It's a challenge, a last opening for you to take if you truly don't want any of this, if you just want to go home and prepare for the next day like normal – his grip on the table isn't iron, and he hasn't trapped you in a way that leaves you with no way out. Wooyoung respects you. He always has. Which is why he's letting you choose whether or not to break down this last boundary instead of taking the lead himself, even though he has to know he could very well do it and you’d be too frozen to protest.

Your voice comes out breathless, brittle, barely the roughest whisper – he's close enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

"Why do you need me to tell you that you're beautiful when you have a world of fans ready to do that in my stead?"

Wooyoung cocks his head. The jacket shifts with the movement, revealing a shoulder and the muscle of a toned arm. The shirt slips lower too, dispelling some of the shadows and bringing the planes of his chest into view. A long, slim earring sparkles in the remaining light out of the corner of your eye. "Why?" he repeats slowly, gaze never leaving yours.

Your nails bite into the tabletop. Part of you wonders if you'll have to check the wood for marks when you come back tomorrow. Not trusting your voice, you force yourself to nod once.

A tiny scoff leaves Wooyoung's mouth. Not mocking, not teasing like it often is, just disbelieving, like he sees something so completely obvious right in front of him that you keep missing. The soft puff of breath lands just next to your face – he turned his head just enough that it wouldn't hit you directly – but you can feel the shift in the air, warm, almost comforting, like the touch of his hand to yours earlier when you had to re-pin the cuffs of his jacket.

He looks back at you and his eyes glint with something – you don't know how to describe it, it's something feral and wild but gentle and kind all at once. You swallow hard, trying to focus on anything, literally anything in your periphery, the shadows of the closet nearby, the light shining on Wooyoung's hair, a mess of black and gold that will need to be tamed by tomorrow morning –

A part of you imagines running your fingers through the strands and tangling them even more.

As though Wooyoung can hear your thoughts, his lips curl into a tiny smirk, just enough for you to see from this up close. Is it just your imagination, or do his eyes lower slightly to look at your lips? He’s come closer now, if that’s possible, without truly touching you yet – his pants brush against your legs, the silk smooth on your own skin.

"Why?" Wooyoung repeats once more, and this time, it definitely isn't your imagination when his eyes flutter down, lingering on your lips so much longer than necessary. His voice drops, matching your low whisper, but his words sound so much smoother than your one cracked sentence. "Because your opinion is the only one that matters."

Your breath catches. Wooyoung smiles. The hand on the table leaves the wood to rest against your waist instead, gentle, warm, light enough to give you an exit but just heavy enough to tell you he's serious. He really is, he has to be – Wooyoung isn’t teasing, there’s no mischievous glint in his eyes that would probably break your heart if it showed itself in a moment as charged as this. He leans in closer and you can't help when your own gaze dips to the chest covered in smooth silk, to the hand at your waist radiating a tickling warmth throughout your body before it rises once more to glance at his lips, soft, pink – did Wooyoung really wash off his makeup? It doesn't seem like he did, not when he still looks like this.

But then again, Wooyoung has always been some divine sort of ethereal.

When you meet his eyes again, it's to find them darker than before, peeking out from under hooded lids in a way that makes your heart beat even faster. His grip tightens slightly at your waist – not controlling, though, not possessive. Just warm. Steady. Protective, even. A gentle, stabilizing force keeping your knees from buckling under the strength of his own stare and sending you to the floor.

Oh. You swallow hard.

He looks at you like you're everything he's ever wanted, in more ways than one.

Emotion fills your chest – what emotion, you can’t tell, but it isn’t bad and certainly doesn’t make you want to run away. With the realization, your mind begins to clear and your shoulders start to settle as you force yourself to hold Wooyoung's gaze. His smile widens when it becomes clear you won't look away and slowly, his head tilts in a way that shows off his smooth neck and the silver jewelry still wrapped around it. The hand at your waist slides up ever so slightly until his fingertips press against bare skin.

"So, Y/N." Wooyoung's voice, lower than before, sends a shiver up your spine. Don't look away, don't look away, make eye contact even if it kills you –

He grins. "How do I look?"

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for me to get wooyoung out of my fucking head I'm going insane)

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omg-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif??

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse @overheardatthecontinental @meshlababy @ataraxydreams @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread @savsselfinserts @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @donakamark

*If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to send me an ask or DM!

#johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand fanfic

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wastedyouth-wasteddreams · 3 years ago

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@simnellVP art

“Seems we have trouble coming...or company at the very least”

He didn’t falter from the delicate work around his patients shoulder, he was so calmly spoken, that the guy coming to on his chair almost didn’t absorb the meaning of his words.

“uh?” came the baffled slow response as he looked to Vik, who was finishing up cauterizing near his clavicle. The patient heard a *thu-dunk* from the entrance to the shop.

Vik didn’t even flinch as he heard the gate swung open and crashing into the storage cage.

“Theres only one person who bombs down those stairs like a gorilla in heat”...he raised his voice, so it was loud enough to hear from the doorway, but still focusing on his work. Though if he were to look a little closer, his client would have noticed a restrained smirk creeping up on Vik’s face.

“Maybe I'll get paid this time though” He remarked as he spun around just in time to see her strutting over to his desk, as if she owned the place. She placed some things on his desk then turned on her heels and clasped the edge to pull herself up to a backwards perch. She arched her back and leant forward as she looked toward Vik to flash him a smile. *shit*

“Sorry Vik” she stammered, eyes wide with embarassment. She wasn’t expecting him to be with a patient, usually Misty would tell her...*fuck* she thought to herself. Misty wasn’t even there to tell be able her, why didn't she consider this.

Her eyebrows knotted in her over thinking. *and now I'm just sat here like an idiot. An idot who owes him many many eddies. Some kind of annoying bag of crushing hormones*

“Grab me that rag will ya, kid?’ He interrupted her train of thought, pointing past her.

“we’re about finished up anyhow...to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He spun back around and started to turn off the monitors on his patient, who was now fully awake and tracing the steps of the unknown visitor.

He always knew how to calm her. Even when he didn't know that she was berating herself internally, he just knew that a few calmed words from his mouth would always bring her vibe back to where it should be.

“I wish lovely women brought me bottles of whisky at work Doc... “ He spoke softly at Vik, so that she didn’t hear as she approached.

“You know what happened last time this brat brought me whisky? A half hour consult ended up with me elbow deep in hydrophobic grease for 4 hours...took me the better part of the next morning to recalibrate my exoglove. Its bribery is what it is.” He felt a hand grasping his shoulder and giving him a little squeeze, and a towel was left draping on his neck

“Chest plate looks nova. That what you guys did today?” She nodded at Viks latest work. Vik knew he did a pretty good job, and he was humble about it, but for some reason he felt proud when she said that. Not like she hadn't seen his work before, most of her chrome was introduced with her sat in that very chair in fact. There was something nice about hearing her praises though.

As he started to wipe his elbows and forearms, he caught his patients gaze, locked onto the jeans she was wearing, and how they hugged her ass. He was pretty sure he could see the guys eyes moving from one side to the next as her slow meander made her ass bounce ever so slightly with every step toward the desk.

"Steady on there choom. She could put you back in this chair quick as you can blink" Vik didn't realise he was even saying the words as they left his mouth. He felt himself blushing...wait. No. He wasn't blushing. He was feeling anger. This fucking guy. He was eating into Viks clock out time. He was sat on viks chair. He was staring at viks girl. *fuck vik* he scolded himself for feeling possessive of her and lightly shook his head to himself.

"Sorry man...didn't know you guys were a thing." His client chirped back at him.

"Nothin' like that. I just know her. Pretty well actually" he said as he stood up and walked the client away from the halogen lights.

Vik carefully watched this guys every move as he got closer to her.

"Thats a good whisky you bought there" the client tried to earn her favour and Viks new hatred grew with every word coming from his gonk mouth.

"Hands off champ. That one's mine" vik almost growled the words, but was hoping they came across more jovial than they were ment. His anger built as he saw this gonk lean over her shoulder. He pulled a card from his jacket and Vik heard his next attempt.

"if you ever fancy dropping whisky at my office, or you wanted to get dinner or something". She didn't even hear his dodgy come on, her heart had started flutters when she heard Vik note his displeasure. She imagined for a moment that he meant SHE was his, instead of the whisky. She played the loop in her head *that one's mine*.

Vik stood up, unaware of what he thought he would do. His left hand closed into a fist, and his face started to burn. In his mind he was giving this fucker a count of 3 to start walking out, before he ushered him out.

3....

Nope. Still there

2...

Gonk was now reaching to touch her hand

1...

"OK, off you go. If she wants, she can call, but I'm clocking out"

She could hear his boots stomping the ground as Vik strode toward her. It took him long enough. This dick was seriously trying to hit on her in Viks surgery. She wondered if this was some sort of brotherly affection, or if it could possibly be jealousy. Whatever it was, it certainly perked her mood up to see him have such a strong reaction.

"Oh that there is mad Vik!" She smiled and nodded to the gate "if he doesn't get fed soon , he's likely to get real angry" she laughed out as the customer walked as swiftly as possible through the gates.

Viks heart fluttered back into his chest when he saw her throw the card into the waste. He couldn't believe that feeling. The guy was a nice customer, but as soon as he saw that guy staring. It just shook him, he felt like he used to before a fight. Adrenalin surged through his muscles, but this time with no where to use it.

His thought was interupted when a whisky bottle was thrust within a foot of his face, a cheeky smile hidden behind it, sat under bright wide eyes and a raised happy brow.

"Happy Birthday Vik. Legal to drink now finally?" She smirked at his frown, knowing her jibes at his age were always a sure way to bait him.

He had forgotten it was his birthday. Intentionally.

"My favourite. How did you know?" He cooed jokingly. She bought it. Every. Time.

"I just buy it 'cause it says 'Dickin'" she shrugged and handed him a box with a bow that she had been hiding behind her back. The box was just brown cardboard, with a velvet black bow barely keeping the flaps closed but it sort of reminded him of how her apartment smelt, and how she was kind of like a brown cardboard box, with a velvet ribbon...or some shit. He had no idea but he knew there was a metaphore there somewhere. It just reminded him of her for some reason.

"Whats this?"

" Well it's just a box until you open it Doc" she took it from his hands and laid it down on the desk. He was still gloved up and she was cautious of him dropping the box. She frowned softly at him.

"Take off the scissorhand first. Then you unwrap. Then we drink."

He let out a heavy breath through a contented smile, and found himself looking forward to slumping on the couch out back with such wonderful company.

"Ok." He really didn't know what could be in that bloody box though. It was a rectangle, about the same length and width of his hand about 5 inches high, and it was a little heavy, but didn't make a noise when it moved. It's probably something for surgery, he thought to himself as he turned to the back.

"Come on then kid. I ain't drinking stood up" he reached out and threw his right arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest tightly. He could feel her warm breath through his shirt as he playfully lifted her from the ground with one strong arm.

His muscles flexed around her and she felt her toes lifting to the air. Her inner eye brows raised and she let out a near silent giggle into him. She felt a soft kiss on the top of her head before he dropped her back to the floor.

More to come....

#cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #viktor vektor #viktor vector/reader #cyberpunk viktor #viktor vektor fic #viktor vector

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