#🎟️ // cyberpunk 2077

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: aymeric cassel x gn reader (Cyberpunk 2077)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: thanks to modern live translation, international couples can thrive.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.05k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: google-translated german and french

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: reader speaks german, but isn't strictly german nor swiss. why german? i'm learning it (i dont have a picture yet again c'est la vie)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Switzerland is not like he'd imagined. What did he know about it? By comparison, most things are expensive, but compensated by jobs' higher pay; the usual crime gangs are almost nonexistent, not many skyscrapers, just as many homeless, the flag is square.

Eh, well, the people were nice enough. No chit chat, thank God, they tended to be more kept to themselves; he could fit in here.

Oh, but it's all terribly dull–Aurore would say it even worse–and it's all because she is now wanted by a crime syndicate in their own homeland that they are laying low in Switzerland. Agh, at least he speaks one of the languages, he blends in.

But his host, offering to hide him and his twin? The host is good, has been great, will continue to be wonderful, and he is so grateful.

Aymeric's never imagined this, falling in love.

He hasn't imagined finding someone to fall in love with at all, the decade of 2070 isn't exactly filled with the best people, him and his sister included. Plus, he's always been too busy to even think about it, unlike his rambunctious sister. There's always been a current job and another one on the horizon, but now he's got nothing to stress over.

He hasn't imagined the feeling of falling in love either. The sweat, the color on his face, the heat of his cheeks, the yearning in his chest, the warmth of you.

"Comment s'est passée ta journée?"

"Gut, aber...landweilig."

Modern technology, live translation and subtitles, made it easier for international partners to exist together, to love each other.

Aymeric smiles, sitting down on the couch right next to your tired form, handing you a coffee. You take a sip, it's just the way you like it; funny, considering he doesn't drink coffee himself.

"And you?" You ask, leaning against the arm he wraps around the back of the couch, around you. (Und du?)

"Boring too, yeah." He sighs, looking away for a moment. "You are what illuminates my day, after all." (Ennuyeux aussi, ouais. Tu es ce qui illumine ma journée, après tout.)

"What's with the flattery today?" You chuckle, putting your coffee down on the table. You don't need all of it, he's there to wake you. (Was hat es mit der Schmeichelei heute auf sich?)

"Can't I be nice to you?" Aymeric's expression is always quite passive, so the narrowing of his eyes with very clear sass is welcomed with a laugh. (Je ne peux pas être gentil avec toi?)

You shake your head at him, then let it settle against his arm, "No, you're right. Do be nice to me more often, though?" (Nein, du hast recht. Sei aber öfter nett zu mir?)

He rolls his eyes at that, "Oh, shut up." (Oh, ferme la.)

You give him a pointed look, in turn, "Where is being nice now?" (Wo ist jetzt nett zu sein?)

The two of you settle down for some nice relaxation, your head against his arm, your sides pressed against each other, his hand on yours, and watch the TV. Local news, never exciting, the odd traffic accident or two, or something about the government. Much like the time you've spent apart today, it's dull.

"I have an idea." You perk up suddenly, raising your head from his arm. (Ich habe eine Idee.)

"That so?" He sits up a little to better look at you, turning the TV volume down without tearing his eyes away from yours. "What is it?" (C'est vrai? Qu'est-ce que c'est?)

"Let's turn off our translators." (Schalten wir unsere Übersetzer aus.)

"What?" He asks, a sharp quoi? you recognize. It's a silly idea, you know it, he does too. Why would he willingly decide to stop understanding you?

"I wanna see just how much German you've picked up from me." You defend, shooting him a cheeky smile he can't shoot down. (Ich möchte sehen, wie viel Deutsch du von mir gelernt hast.)

He has to tear his eyes away from your smile to consider it in his own terms. "That's..." It wasn't so much a bad idea, actually. It might just be fun. What else has he got to do with his time, anyway? "alright, maybe it does sound fun." (C'est…ok, peut-être que ça a l'air amusant.)

"Sehen? OK." (See?)

You turn off your translator, as does he, washing a momentary blue sheen over both your irises to signal the quick action.

You begin first, tentatively, "Um, also, Aymeric?" (so, Aymeric?)

"Ce n'est pas exactement un mot allemand." He says, in French, and you definitely have no idea what he's saying, or well, you've got a hint: allemand meaning "German", and "Ce n'est pas" being quite a basic French thing: it is not. (That's not exactly a German word.)

You laugh, piecing context together, "Du hast recht, das ist es nicht." (You're right, it isn't.)

His eyes flash for a moment, not blue, but inquisitively. "J'ai raison?"

Raison? Reason? That's kind of English. You've only got the basics from high school you learned what feels like long ago, but you know what reason means. "Oui, du hast...raison." (Yes, you have...reason.)

Oui, he likes the way you say oui, it's cute, especially because you imitate his accent. He thinks back on what he's heard you say, "Kaffee, mit Milch, zwei Würfelzucker." (Coffee, with milk, two sugar cubes.)

You laugh, and though maybe it should make him a little embarrassed, he only thinks about how he likes the sound. He didn't quite nail the "ü" but you understood. "Vous ne buvez café." (You don't drink coffee.)

You had missed some things, mainly "pas de" after "buvez", but he understood. "Du hast recht, ich ne trinke pas kaffee." (You're right, I don't drink coffee.)

And he used French negation instead of German. "Okay, genug davon." You shake your head, "Ich habe tatsächlich etwas zu sagen." (Alright, enough of that. I actually have something to say.)

Aymeric has no idea what you've just said, but knows that perhaps you want to change topics by the way you shake your head. He's still confused, anyhow, but that feeling fades away when he feels your hand reach past his face and touch the cool chrome at the back of his head, one of his most vulnerable points, the netrunner connection. He can't help but gasp, and his eyes follow your arm until he can't see it anymore, past his head; and yet, he doesn't pull your hand away, nor his head away, because he knows he's safe with you.

"Aymeric." You say, catching his attention, calling his eyes back to yours. "Je t'aime." (I love you.)

"Ich liebe dich auch." He returns. His eyes swirl, again, not blue, but with adoration. (I love you too.)

You continue to hold him with a hand of his chrome, while he reaches to hold you, his fingers tracing over the shard port behind your ear. His lips near yours and you kiss, holding each other.

Maybe you will never learn each other's languages, but you will continue to understand each other beyond that.

#cyberpunk 2077 x reader #cyberpunk 2077 x gn reader #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #💞 // darlings #🎟️ // cyberpunk 2077 #🌸 // success #🎫 // aymeric cassel #aymeric cassel x gn reader #aymeric cassel x reader

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: dante caruso x gn reader (Cyberpunk 2077)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: beneath dante's tough disposition, there is a man.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 870

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of blood, death, and murder, half-naked man, not sexual just romantic, hint at friends w/ benefits

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i don't have a picture cuz i actually killed him but TRUST this man is fine as hell in red lighting; video for ref

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Militech, even though a corp, does indeed handle some of their employees well, especially those who do their covert stuff; it is preferable, after all, that they do not spill.

Dante counts himself lucky to be an undercover agent of theirs, taking shelter in one of their safehouses, though it seems he's not the only one.

You're there.

Dante believes in coincidences, would rather not believe in fate, but this has to be ordained by whoever put him in Night City.

He's tough, cool, calm and collected. He knows how to speak according to the circumstance, and he'd just spoken straightforwardly according to the situation; he escaped with his life and the goal accomplished, and now he's collecting himself, perhaps staying for the night.

He's tough, cool, calm and collected...and yet his voice breaks as he speaks your name, "(y/n)."

"Dante." You're just about...what are you doing? He's an undercover agent, he should be able to assess the situation, but he can't, not now. Why?

You're just colleagues, have been for the majority of the decade, he trusts you. You've done plenty of jobs together, see each other often at HQ or whatever. Where's the "calm and collected" aspect that's in his resume? "What," He clears his throat, shifts his stance onto one foot, "are you doing here?"

He isn't nervous. He's...what is he?

"Laying low, after that job by the grand mall, you know." He did know, yeah, you told him that. His breaths shorten, and perhaps you can tell, as you begin walking a bit closer to him, concerned? "Something wrong?"

"I..." He just took a life, Bree, he knew her. She deserved it, she was going to leak the corporation's secrets, if he hadn't killed her the corp would've been done for; but no, she didn't deserve it, she was just seeking to publish the truth. No, er, yes, something's wrong. "yea."

His voice is small, he looks defeated, his gaze falls to his shoes. He doesn't handle death as well as you do, and in your books, that's fine. You've held him through this a thousand times before.

"C'mere, cowboy." You wrap your arms around him, let his head fall to your shoulder, let his weight fall on yours.

There are no tears to shed, he's not sad, he's just...he's never had a name for it. Contemplative? He took another life. He knows there isn't fate in the universe, because why would fate have him killing folks?

"It was necessary."

"I know." But he needed you to tell him that anyway.

Beneath Dante's tough disposition, there is a man. The agent knows the work must be done, but the man mourns for the soul that has now left the world, and for the body that will never find the columbarium.

You reach a hand between you two, undoing his bolo tie with experienced fingers, and gathering his necklaces in your hand. He parts his head from your shoulder–doesn't need a command for it anymore–so you may slip the heavy metals off his neck to wherever else, so that he carries one less burden.

His head fall back onto your shoulder while you continue to release him from another burden, his tight black vest. Unbuttoning it comes easy to you. You slip your hands beneath the leather, your hands feeling warmer against his stomach and then his chest with just that one layer less, and slip it off.

When you reach for his belt, he finds the will to raise his head and press his nose against yours gratefully.

You're just coworkers.

"Dante..." Now's not the time. The words in your mind dissipate into nothingness when he kisses you.

Dante kisses you, slow and sweet, and it feels like warm honey. "I know." He replies, pressing another smaller kiss to your jaw, perhaps he missed, but he's satisfied with it as he buries his face, now, against your neck.

"You got blood on your sleeves." It's minimal, won't be noticeable for the trek back home, but it looks like a stain upon the man you know is good.

"It's fine." He declares. He's not got the will to care for it right now.

"You're sweaty."

"That too."

The belt comes off next, with a heavy metallic clack. Then there's the shirt, which you unbutton just as well as the vest. Finally, the pants, with little resistance. You'll let him take off his underwear himself in the bathroom.

You guide him there yourself, unfortunately making him part from your embrace, but he's comforted by the fact that you'll hold him to sleep later, like you always do.

You leave him by the shower–but don't turn it on for him, he's not that helpless–and turn to leave, but he stops you with his voice before you're out the doorway.

"Shower with me?" His face is hopeful, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. He knows you won't say no.

"Yeah, 'course."

He's a corpo hitman, should be used to this, and yet he's not. It's due to the fact you are always there to break the fall, validating his feelings, not letting him deal with it himself; but he wouldn't have it any other way.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: writing for hot as hell side characters of course, the cassel twins too but i aint kidnapped them yet dont talk to me

#dante caruso x gn reader #dante caruso x reader #cyberpunk 2077 x reader #cyberpunk 2077 x gn reader #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #💞 // darlings #🎫 // dante caruso #🎟️ // cyberpunk 2077 #🌸 // success