#arasaka couple | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

1,644 Tumblr posts in 1 second.

aceghosts · 19 days

Text

Rooney Shepard (They/Them)/Yorinobu Arasaka Screenshots (6/X)

Death of Peace of Mind Pose Pack by @elfjpeg

MOD LIST

Taglist (Like this post to opt in/out for edits): @bbrocklesnar, @sergeiravenov, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @strangefable, @carlosoliveiraa, @nightbloodbix, @captastra, @direwombat, @voidika, @amalkavian, @cloudofbutterflies92, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @inafieldofdaisies, @cassietrn, @katsigian, @onehornedbeast, @thedeadthree, @confidentandgood, @clicheantagonist

44 notes · View notes

ayrennaranaaldmeri · 8 months

Text

alright i’m perpetually stuck in shadowheart brainrot, that’s true, but it’s fucking impressive how toddward and larian clowned my expectations the exact fucking same way lmfao. You think Shadowheart will fall into the evil aligned comp category but nope she’s an entirely good person who was always just like that, even the goddess she was gaslit into worshipping couldn’t beat that out of her. Then in Starfield you meet Andreja literally putting a bullet in someone, and are def thinking she may be your more morally flexible companion, she’s of spoopy and mysterious house va’ruun, the space snek cult, but nope nah she too is just a good egg at heart and won’t tolerate murderhoboisms. For two games in a row I intended to have a morally flexible son date who I assumed would be the morally flexible woman but rip to that they just became better people just by knowing and being around the best girls.

#tbd #no i can fix her she just never needed fixing but i definitely needed to fix myself a lil #faolan less so bc he's gone through some rewrite before this and was already at being more neutral than evil rathe r than ne like i'd #envisioned #Andreja def has had more of an impact on Nathaniel's morality bc he went from 'mind control chip go breee'#to 'convinced the space arasaka board to abandon the research bc andreja will be disappointed in me otherwise' rip #and y'know #'mind control chip on the table to go bree at the uttermost end of need'#ITS BEEN A RIDE #I can go back to my evil power couple when I get over my fear of new swtor kjfhfjdkg #fae plays starfield #bg3 spoilers #starfield spoilers

16 notes · View notes

cybercaffie · 11 months

Text

Sooo a while ago @scuttlebuttin dropped these in the server and I went a lil batshit insane. and then got the idea to actually mod that in-game. Except one thing led to another...made another couple soldiers for company...then why not some more...and an atlas... and I ended up with a whole ass team of 11 :')

Arasaka Intervention Forces - Spec Ops Infantry// Assault & Tech// Infiltration&Mission Control

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #sandayu oda #arasaka #cyberpunk 2077 photomode #@scuttlebuttin thanks for the inspo and the support in tactical gear simping so I got the motivation to finish this behemoth of thing #guess I'll make a tag for them #c: arasaka intervention forces #gonna use them a lot cause GOD they are cool

340 notes · View notes

wraithsoutlaws · 2 months

Text

TITLE: Perfect Drug CHAPTER ONE: Jawbreaker WORD COUNT: 4,309 PAIRING: Dagger/Dum Dum CW: Light violence, gore mention The story of how two fucked up guys become one fucked up couple.

The sky changed colors in the city. The endless scroll of neon gave it an artificial glow, and from the first moment he crossed the desert line, Dagger had resented it. Nothing looked real. Nothing was–not the food, the music. Certainly not the people. He found himself looking up as he drove further into it’s clutches, searching for a sliver of sky that felt familiar, but the only thing he found was a thinly veiled layer of bullshit. Northside was different, though no less oppressive. The smokestacks kept the air murky, and no matter how many times he blinked or re-calibrated his optics, he couldn’t quite clear his vision of the red haze that defined it. But unlike Night City, it took pride in it’s own ugly. And he liked that.

The All Foods factory sat like an icon at the center of it all, more mythical to the locals than even the crumbs of Arasaka littering the district. Dagger stood outside with a cigarette, gazing into it’s shuttered maw.

A week had passed since he found his way to the building for the first time, toting a severed head in one hand, and a duffel of recovered Militech cargo in the other. He had taken both from a smoldering warzone in Sierra Sonorra where two behemoths fought their last battle; a cadre of Maelstrom gangoons and a unit of corpo dogs. He could have taken the wreckage back for the Wraiths. The gear would have fetched a pretty enny, and the head of a Milietech sergeant would make a lovely hood ornamented for his Quadra–but Dagger never cared for money, and he had plenty of heads already.

He brought the cargo home to Northside instead, head in hand like a peace offering, still bleeding fresh after decapitation. He wanted a deal, not a payday. Something worth more than a shiny new car, or a pair of genuine leather boots, and after one long blurry fucking night, he got one.

The Wraiths would protect Maelstrom’s interests in the Badlands and the ‘borgs would give them leverage in the city, pushing to wipe Sixth Street from Santo Domingo. Dagger would move between them, lending his skills to one while extending his power in the other.

In the end, he'd puppet them both.

His mama always said to dream big.

He pressed at a dwindling bruise over his ribcage as he double checked for his smokes in his jacket pocket. Each breath came with a dull ache that hadn’t quite quelled from that night, even a week later. He’d paid his price for admission. He could still feel the wreckage in his bones as he stood at the entrance of the garage, cigarette half smoked already, waiting for an answer at the door. The security camera at the edge of the roof peered down at him, it’s blinking red light a mimic of the trademark optics that were watching him from inside. And they were watching him. Making him wait, though they were the very ones who had set the meet. When he glared up at the lens, he could feel them on the other side.

Another minute passed. He threw his cigarette down, banging a fist to the rusted metal with impatience. After a moment of waiting he considered going around to the intercom, but it felt too much like defeat. He knocked again instead, kicking with a steel tipped boot for good measure and flicking another glare up to the camera.

The noise must have worked. The door swung open with a growl, sudden enough it nearly took an inch off his nose. Before he could blink, the front end of a revolver shoved itself against the scar on his cheek, forcing his back to the wall with its presence. Seven eyes peered over the muzzle, a shiny chrome scowl beneath them. Dagger’s fist moved on instinct, nestled now against the underside of Dum Dum’s chin where the skin still felt human. The steel claws in the chassis of his hand inched in the sheaths between his knuckles, hungry for a drop of blood. They stood still, entwined in each other’s violence, neither one ready to budge.

“Keep that gun in my face any longer and I’ll get real acquainted with your fleshy bits.” He wasn’t sure which lens he should look at, or which ones were looking at him. His icy gaze settled on the ones that looked most like eyes, though he couldn’t read them. The tip of his claws met skin, just slightly. Enough bite to prove he wasn’t lying.

Dum Dum didn’t sweat it.

“You think your trigger is quicker than mine?”

“Might be fun to find out.”

The sound that came from his throat could have been a laugh. A moment later, Dum Dum drew the gun back and slid it into the waistband of his pants. Slowly, Dagger followed suit, letting his hand fall away with a tinge of disappointment. A click of his tongue.

“Scared?”

“My bullet would rip through your meatpan before your chrome even touched me,” Dum Dum said. He sounded sure, the weight of his optics nearly prying Dagger apart, scanning his hardware in bemusement. He wouldn’t find much, except maybe that his assessment was correct. Which begged the question: why not pull the trigger?

Dagger grinned.

“You gonna invite me inside?”

Dum Dum didn’t answer, turning a corner toward the street without looking back at him. “Nothing in there for you.”

“Is that right?” Dagger pulled his cigarettes from his jacket and lit one as he followed. A busted up Chevillon was parked on the corner, garish Maelstrom colors splattered across the rusted paint like a badge of honor. Ugly, like everything else around it. He smiled. “Taking me out to pasture then?”

Smoke slithered from his lips as they walked.

“You wanna play with the big dogs you’re gonna have to work like a bitch.” Dum Dum stopped at the car, and spared him an indecipherable look. “That means you do what I say, when I say it, how I say it. If I tell you to lick the shit off my boots you better fucking get on your knees and do it, yeah? Piss me off and it’s bye bye with a bullet. We’ll sell your meat to the Scavs without a second thought.”

Dagger raised a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes as he took another drag from his smoke. “My god, I think I can see Royce’s hand up your ass using your mouth like a little puppet. Don’t you wanna be a real boy?”

Dum Dum looked tough, but Dagger had seen enough already to know that he folded for the big man as easy as paper. He half expected the gun again, but to his surprise, he only saw a smile on the other man’s face–teeth that looked too human to belong to him. The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop.

“You are one stupid motherfucker.”

He almost sounded impressed.

Dagger stared him down with the same grin, head tilting. Anyone else, he might skin them alive for the assertion but Dum Dum could be useful. No doubt more than any of the other rusted lugnuts lurking in the gang who’d still be more than happy to kill him. If he wanted this to work out, he’d need someone watching his back, and he’d already proved he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Dum Dum slid into the driver’s seat and gestured for Dagger to go around. He wasn’t thrilled about playing passenger, his own car parked down the block, but he decided not to push it. He didn’t know his way around the city yet, let alone wherever the fuck they were headed. Or why.

He climbed into the Chevillon, choosing to play nice, a decision quickly waning as he waited for an explanation that never came. He blew smoke toward Dum Dum, a juvenile attempt to get his attention as the engine turned over.

“Got a problem, princess?” Dum Dum asked without looking. At least his head didn’t move.

Dagger leaned back in his seat. “Just wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.”

“You’re the one who knocked.”

“Funny.”

The car pulled onto the street.

“Got a pick-up.” The flat drone of his voice gave away his own annoyance in the silence. “And I wasn’t bullshitting before. Do as you’re told and we won’t have a problem.”

Dagger rolled down his window to vent the smoke from his cigarette. “Pick-up? And here I was hoping for a little fun. Ain’t you lot known for your violence? No offense but thats a waste of my talent and I’m keen to believe it’s a waste of yours too.”

“Royce wants to know you can follow orders. You might be hot shit to those desert dogs but you’re a long way from the top out here.”

Something in the gravel of his tone indicated a warning, but Dagger flicked it off with the ash from his cig. He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, watching the city blur past the tinted glass. Northside was less colorful than the rest of Night City, all smoke and concrete. In a way, it reminded him of home–the badlands, an endless sprawl of sun bleached dirt, harsh and rigid. Vibrant in its decay. They bore their similarities alright. He could smell fire in the air. A laugh lodged itself in his throat as he finally looked over.

“So that’d make you what, then? The babysitter?”

A grunt. There might have been humor in it. Or a threat.

“You should count yourself lucky. Anyone else prolly woulda shot you by now.”

Dagger didn’t doubt it for a second. Dum Dum was different from the rest, and somehow just the same. He followed orders, and crumbled like soggy paper for the top dog. Out of fear or loyalty, he couldn’t tell yet, but he lacked the self-respect to see that Royce would throw him out as soon as he wasn’t useful. He wondered what might happen if those strings pulled taut. If something sharp happened by to whittle them down.

Dum Dum’s voice caught him by surprise.

“I’m actually impressed you’re still walking. Didn’t think you’d show up after that beating last week.”

“That right?” Dagger said, casually flipping down the visor ahead of him and examining his face in the two inch mirror. The bruise beneath his eye had faded from plum to a brown rot and for a moment he could feel the impact of the metal punch that knocked him on his ass again. It wasn’t the only one. His body was littered, like the canvas of an old painter–splashes of color hemorrhaging against his skin. He knew there was a cracked rib, probably a concussion, too. A few busted teeth, and more. Welcoming gifts from Maelstrom. It was his own suggestion, a last ditch effort to get close to the gang without having chrome shoved up his ass. An initiation plucked from his smuggling days. Each member got a single hit. If he was still alive by the end of it, he’d get in.

And Dagger always got in, smiling and spitting blood. He’d do it again just to prove that he could.

“Hell, I thought that left hook from Lars might kill you.” Dum Dum laughed.

Dagger flipped the visor closed. “You kiddin’? My Daddy hit me harder for stealing a cigarette when I was eight years old.”

“You were prolly just a pussy back then.”

A grin cut across his lips as naturally as the sun cresting over the cityscape. “Well, he had a harder swing than you, at least.”

“Makes sense.” The car turned a tight corner and Dum Dum’s head tilted toward him for the first time. “Considerin’ I pulled my punch.”

Dagger met those empty red lenses with a raised brow. “The fuck you did.”

The crack of his own teeth rang out in his ears again, as if that chrome fist was crashing into his face all over. He could still remember his seven eyes watching him as he stumbled back, spitting blood and enamel in his face. He tongued the empty space on his bottom gum where the molar used to sit. Dum Dum had extracted it more seamlessly than the world’s best dentist ever could.

Pulled his punch.

Dagger scoffed.

Dum Dum didn’t show any sign of humor. His silence said it all.

“And why the fuck would you do that?”

A pause. And then finally a smile.

“‘Cause the harder we hit you, the louder you laughed. Didn't wanna give you the satisfaction.”

Dagger’s face fell, as expressionless as the red lenses in front of him, which seemed now to burn holes through his chest in the silence. He should cut them from his skull, but the feeling passed at the sight of a smile on Dum Dum’s lips.

“Fuckin’ lunatic,” he said, somewhere between affection and dismay.

Dagger took it for a compliment. He grinned, and a bruise sang triumph beneath his skin.

The car pulled off the street beside a painted wall that looked nearly identical to every other street corner in Northside. Dagger could find his way through every small vein of dusty road across the Badlands with his eyes closed but ask him to distinguish between one block or the next within the industrial sprawl of the district and he’d be lost. He pressed his forehead against the window and looked up. Not even the sky could help him. The shadow of the city all but smothered it.

Dum Dum cut the engine.

Wrecked cars littered the crowded alleyway where they sat now, nothing but skeletal remains, picked clean by the vultures. But there was one ahead of them, a black van that stuck out among the rest. The pick-up, if he had to wager.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked, his cigarette almost nothing but ash. He finally flicked it out the window.

Dum Dum didn’t answer. He studied the van ahead of him in the quiet, and after a moment Dagger pushed his optics to scan it too. Standard. No heat signature inside, though there was something stored in the back, a chemical signature he couldn’t get a specific read on. Drugs, more than likely. Of course it was. He had heard the ‘strommers had their own brand of shit. The kind with enough kick to push past the thirty pounds of chrome in their head.

“Something the matter with it?” On instinct, Dagger looked in the rearview, scanned the surrounding area. A flash of light flickered somewhere behind them and disappeared. He waited for it to happen again, but he saw nothing.

“Gadge ain’t here,” Dum Dum said, tone flat. Once more unreadable.

“Taking a leak?”

A grunt. He leaned back in the seat, hand dropping down to the revolver wedged between his seat and the middle console. He flicked his head forward, toward the van. “Well, go on, bitch boy. Check it out.”

Dagger’s eyes narrowed, but he pushed back the urge to tell him to fuck off. He lit another cigarette on the way out. The street was quiet, though somewhere a few blocks down a siren echoed off the smokestacks. He paused when he reached the back of the van, head turning over his shoulder. There was nothing here. Nobody in sight beside those seven glowing eyes behind the glass, and still the hair rose on the back of his neck.

No Gadge. No blood. No struggle. So why did he have a bad feeling? He focused his attention back to the van as Dum Dum waved a hand at him impatiently. Another quick scan told him the same information before he finally reached for the handle and pulled the bed open. A creak of metal cracked through his ears.

It almost deafened the gunshot.

Dagger ducked, dropping low without thought. His cigarette fell to the ground half burned, mocking him as another bullet riccochetted against the back of the van. His first thought was Dum Dum. Royce had changed his mind on the deal, ordered his execution. A quiet hit didn’t sound like his style, and Dagger was almost disappointed he wouldn’t get to see the ugly bastard one more time just to call him a fucking pussy to his face, but a moment later he could hear the ‘borg’s static voice yelling at him from the car to get the fuck up.

He stayed low, unable to pinpoint the direction of the gunshot, and made his way back to the passenger’s side of the Chevillon.

The engine sputtered to life at the same time as the van in front of him. He crawled inside just in time to witness the driverless van crash through a charred Mackinaw to the next street over.

“Fuck!” Dum Dum yelled, flooring the pedal before Dagger could get his foot pulled in all the way. “Shit’s hacked. Gonk’s don’t know who they’re messing with.”

He rammed through the same debris as the van but caught a harsh edge of metal, and the Chevillon stalled for a moment before struggling through. The ringing in Dagger’s ears hadn’t stopped, and he only realized his hand was bleeding when he reached for his third smoke.

“Hack means their close.”

Dagger rolled the window down and stuck his head out, catching the stale air of Northside in a suffocating wind. He could see the van ahead of them like a black smear, but it wasn’t the van he was interested in. Quickhack on a vehicle was useful, but it had drawbacks. One being proximity. Had to be close or you lost connection, even with boosted gear.

A small Hatchback swung suddenly out from a sidestreet, narrowly missing their car as it sped past. Dum Dum swerved and lost a foot of paint on a fire hydrant in attempt to keep steady. Dagger scanned it as it followed track with the van, spitting chooh2 to catch up. Two signatures inside. A runner.

He ripped the gun from Dum Dum’s seat and pulled himself halfway out the window to take aim. He shot quickly and near blind, bullet lost in the wind as the chase veered left.

“Fuckin’ shoot steady,” Dum Dum yelled over at him.

“Drive fuckin’ steady,” Dagger snapped, and this time he held his breath as he aimed for the speeding car. A shot came back at him in response and he ducked back into the window before firing again. The windshield spiderwebbed but the car stayed true, zipping through a line of traffic as they headed into a busier part of the district. A horn blared beside him. The hatchback disappeared between two trucks, and Dum Dum struggled on the wheel, crashing into the edge of a turning car and nearly throwing the gun from Dagger's slick, bloody grasp when he shot again.

He couldn’t track where the bullet hit, but he could tell that it missed.

With a growl, Dagger reached over for the wheel.

“Switch me places.” It was a command more than a question, but Dum Dum didn’t protest. He ripped the gun from Dagger’s hand as Dagger pushed his leg over to the gas pedal and shimmied across the seat in an awkward dance, climbing over him without slowing the vehicle until they both settled into their new positions.

Dum Dum took aim as naturally as Dagger did the wheel. He was no stranger to this, or to the electricity running through his chest as he gripped the wheel knuckle tight, grin spreading over his lips.

The tight streets were no match for an open road, but it got his blood pumping all the same.

He could barely make out the back of the car up ahead, but he could see the rear light explode as Dum Dum fired beside him, leaving red glass sparkling on the pavement like blood. Another shot bellowed, and the hatchback veered wildly, nearly toppling sideways as it made a sharp turn.

Dagger followed, cutting the same corner with the ease of sharpened steel. He couldn’t see the van further up, but he locked his optics onto the car. Blood splattered the window, and he knew that Dum Dum had hit one of them inside. The engine groaned as he pushed it further. The Chevillon didn’t have the same gumption as his Quadra. He could feel the waiver in her gait, but they were close now. Dum Dum felt it too. He braced his arm on the roof. One good shot is all they’d need.

Dagger seamlessly crossed over the center line, taking the opposite lane to blow past several cars that separated them from their goal. Traffic sped by, so close it rocked the car, but he didn’t flinch.

One. Good. Shot.

Dum Dum fired.

Blood sprayed the windshield.

The hatchback veered suddenly into a passing car, which came to a skidding stop, halting the traffic behind it and keeping Dagger from passing back over into the right lane. His mind raced, and on instinct he took a quick left to avoid collision, and then another.

Dum Dum screamed in his ear, but the words were deafened from wind, the ringing, the sirens. Neon lights burned together, flashing against his corneas.

“Wrong fuckin’ way!” He heard finally.

The streets grew narrower, and then he understood.

He could smell the ocean.

Northside’s warehouses were a shadow in the rearview as they headed toward the bay into Kabuki. Tyger territory. They had crossed the district line.

Dum Dum reached for the wheel in a last ditch effort to change course. The momentum of the turn threw them upward, tires leaving the ground. The car spun uncontrollably, flipped, crashing through the barricade on the side of the road in a explosion of crunching metal.

He could see the ocean.

A smear of open blue that could match the sky his heart yearned for. It was beautiful.

Almost.

And it hit like a fucking rock.

His vision blacked for a moment before the water caved in around them. Slowly, then all at once. He barely had time to take in a lungful of air. Kicking at the door wildly, he swam away from the wreckage as the sea pulled them under. His gaze shot upward, searching once more for the sky to lead him. He followed the light up and up, chest starting to ache, until finally he found it.

Dagger gasped as he breached, shaking water from his eyes. He didn’t recognize the city around him, but he spotted a dock nearby. He swam toward it, then stopped. Looked back. The only remains of the Chevillon were petering bubbles at his back, and smooth water beside that. There wasn’t any sign of Dum Dum. By the look of him, he’d sink as quick as the car.

He glanced between the dock and the bubbles and back again.

All that fucking chrome…

Walking back to All Foods without the drugs and their sergeant at arms might earn himself a spot in that industrial microwave that Maelstrom liked to boast. Dum Dum was the only one who didn’t want to kill him, after all.

“Fuck.”

He spit water then took another breath and dived.

The car left a trail like ink in the murky water. Dagger clawed toward it, dragging himself further down into the dark depths. Day turned to night. The city was different here, peaceful, and if not for the pounding in his ears, quiet.

The distant red glare of those eyes shined like a beacon further down. He followed them like the north star, pushing himself to go faster. Dum Dum kicked despite himself, maybe instinct, maybe panic, but his weight worked against him, pulling him down quicker. Dagger pushed harder, reached further. Dum Dum finally noticed him, lenses fixed and unwavering, a calm coming over him as he finally got close enough to grab. Dagger heaved upward, working against the ocean’s cold grasp and the anchor like weight dragging him down. His chest began to burn, and the sky still looked so dark above them.

He considered letting go, eyes squeezed tight, angry ‘ganic lungs ready to burst.

And then he could breathe again.

He reached blindly for the dock ladder, trying hard not to heave. Dum Dum climbed up beside him, still as a corpse.

“Fucking gonk shit,” he muttered.

Dagger almost didn’t catch it over the sound of his panting. He laid flat on his back, taking in the welcome blue above him. He could finally see a break in the cityscape, clouds sneaking in at the edge of his vision.

“Quite a fuckin’ thank you,” Dagger said without taking his eyes from above.

“Oxygen reserves. Could sit down there all day.”

He sat up slowly, running a hand through wet, matted hair. “All the good it’d do you. Be a pile of rust by the time they found you. If they found you.”

Dum Dum laughed. Short, quick static. Somehow it sounded genuine.

“And I’m sure you did that outta the kindness of your heart.”

“What fuckin’ heart?” He said flat, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes. He pulled the pack out, sopping wet. He didn’t bother trying to light one before he tossed them into the bay with a sigh. “Owe me some fucking smokes.”

Dum Dum opened his mouth to speak, but the words never made it. He lifted his head, and though he couldn’t see exactly, Dagger knew he was looking past him. A gun cocked at the back of his head. Cold barrel against his skull. He clenched his jaw, and turned to see a woman he didn’t recognize staring down at him behind glass eyes.

His automatic translator picked up her words better than his ears.

“Welcome to Kabuki, bitch.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #oc: dagger #dum dum #x: perfect drug #my fic tag #well i fussed over this too much so im just gonna say yolo and post it #that also means i have to start on the second chapter. hm.#anyways..........its been a long time coming dklsajfdlsa #linked the song i got the title from for soundtrack purposes if it suits you UwU #sad to tell you all that cockroach won't appear until ch.2 despite being in the above image v.v #false advertising im sorry

72 notes · View notes

lillian-gallows · 9 months

Text

Take Me Back to Eden

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand/Reader (V)

Warnings: Reader is V, No use of V, No use of Y/N (Don't get used to that from me lol), Cunnilingus (F receiving oral sex), P in V sex, Fluff with a little bit of angst (because V/Reader is a dummy and so is Johnny), Vaginal fingering, use of pet names (Bright-eyes and baby), alcohol consumption.

Summary: V/Reader is in love with the reformed ghost in her head, but she's pretty sure it's just her, oh how wrong she is.

GIF by: Keanuphile

Notes: I finished the game, I'm not okay, so I'm writing fanfiction about it. Cross posted to AO3

Minors DNI

The tequila burned as it raced down your throat, so did the whiskey chaser that followed it. The music of The Afterlife was pounding in your ears and brain as the liquor took hold and made your muscles relax, jaw no longer clenching quite so tight.

You caught Claire’s eye and lifted the empty glass in a wordless request for another, which got a nod of acknowledgement in return, but she was already with a couple of customers so it would be a moment. That was fine. You were nothing if not patient.

So patient that you managed to get yourself stuck in a loop of waiting for the reformed ghost in your brain to realize you’re in love with him and had been since you helped him go on a date with Rogue, like a gonk, and knowing he probably never will, or if he does figure it out, to care enough to act on it.

You’d seen his memories. Know what loving Johnny Silverhand does to a person. Yet here you are, as if one almost death sentence wasn’t enough for you.

There was a split second, when you were carrying each other out of Arasaka HQ, when you thought he might have felt the same. You’d fallen to your knees, legs refusing to keep going, and he’d gripped you tight and said you needed to get up, that he couldn’t leave without you, that he needed you.

At the time you’d thought there was something else there, the way he’d said it sounded so…Soft. But now you’re pretty sure it was the adrenaline and your grey matter still reeling from Alt fucking with it to give you your body back that made you cling to your hopeless desperation for the man you knew you couldn’t have, not in the way you wanted him.

“You stare any harder at that shot glass and your Koroshi’s’ll shoot lasers.” Came Claire’s voice, yanking you from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat awkwardly and shifted back in your seat while the other woman refilled both glasses. “Thanks.” You said before throwing the first one back.

“Trouble in paradise?” The Bartender asked as she leaned on the counter, giving you her full attention. After helping Claire resolve her business with Sampson, you both got closer, close enough that you felt comfortable telling her about Johnny and the Relic. Johnny had teased you about the attraction you had felt toward the other woman, but it was nothing compared to what you felt toward him.

“Gotta be paradise for that to happen.” You answered before shaking your head. “Nah, just me being a gonk, like always.” You said it more to the glass in your hand than the woman in front of you.

“You know, torturing yourself won’t solve anything.” Claire said lowly, so only you could hear her. “He hasn’t been to see Rogue since you both got back. From what you’ve told me, that means something.”

Your face was warm as you met Claire’s gaze, whether you were just that easy to read or Claire was using her magic bartender powers you didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter. She was right.

“I’m not gonna be another notch in his belt.” You downed your remaining drink. “And I’m not going to follow him around like some thirsty little groupie.” It came out a little bitter, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t picturing Alt when you said the words.

You’re being unfair, you know you are. Alt loved Johnny for real, that much was obvious, so summing her up as something as simple as a groupie is cruel to the deceased woman, but you can’t fight the sour burn in your belly that threatens to turn you green.

Claire let out a sigh and shook her head. “Yet, that’s what you’re doing.” That gets a glare and Claire’s eyes are hard as she stares back. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m right.” She steadies herself on the bar with both hands and she leans into your space. “You told me yourself that he hates when people beat around the bush. So fucking talk to him before you end up old, grey, and still pinning. Or worse, one of you dies again.”

That snaps you from your cloud of self-pity, but not in the way Claire was probably hoping for. “Whatever.” You grumbled somewhat childishly as you flicked the Eddies to pay your tab and got up.

You knew the other was watching you go but didn’t care to look back. She was right, and it pissed you off. Not the part where Claire called you out, you deserved that, needed to hear it even. The part that you hated was that you really were exactly what you didn’t want to be, a hopelessly in love groupie following Johnny around like a horny puppy, except without any of the payoff of you two actually fucking.

And the saddest part was that you would rather keep pinning than be fuck-buddies, you wouldn’t be able to keep feelings out of it and you don’t even want to begin to imagine being on the receiving end of some of the shit Johnny said to Alt, and he actually loved her…What hope would you have?

It was raining when you got outside, and you considered calling your car instead of taking Jackie’s bike, it had a rain cover and would be fine for a night, but you needed to think and you couldn’t do much of that if you were driving, so rather than either option you turned and started walking, would it take longer? Sure, but that was what you needed to think, or spiral, whichever came first.

The rain was quick to plaster your hair to your face and neck, trailing cold lines of water down your skin that caused goosebumps to bloom, thinking about how much you hated Johnny when you met, how much he hated you right back. You kept walking.

Then those trails of water along with new water falling on you soaked through your clothes and chilled you to the bone, thinking about when you realized you’d fallen for him, lying in bed the night after his date with Rogue with a pit in your gut but determined not to say anything about it, praying he couldn’t feel it through you. You kept walking.

After a bit your shoes began to squish with every step, socks drenched and pooling water in your shoes, thinking about what he’d said that night on the way out of Arasaka HQ, about needing you, he’d breathed the words like he didn’t want anyone else to hear them, like they were for you and you alone and it would be a crime for any other ears to hear them. You kept walking.

You started to shake as Megabuilding H10 came into view, harsh shivers that made your teeth chatter till you clenched your jaw to make it stop, but all that did was make the shakes move down to your shoulders, thinking about how your heart had grabbed onto his whispered plea like it was a declaration of love even though it was nothing of the sort. You kept walking.

A puddle formed under you on the elevator floor as the floor numbers flashed and ads blasted in your ears, but you weren’t paying them any attention, you couldn’t care less about Milfguard or whatever new flavor of Mr. Whitey’s was being screamed about, you were too busy buzzing with the warring hope and dread of the thought that he would be home when you walked through the front door. You stopped walking when you got to the door.

Your fingers hovered over the button that would open it, but you were frozen in place, a new puddle forming, water dripping from your free hand would echo if the atrium wasn’t so goddamn loud.

“You gonna keep staring at it? Or do I gotta move you?” Came the one voice you still weren’t sure if you wanted to hear.

Looking back, you met Johnny’s gaze, or rather your reflection in his aviators, God you looked like a soaked cat…

Rather than answer him you pressed the button and watched the door woosh open, walking in with him right behind you felt like being watched by a warden.

“Why the Hell are you wet? You look like you walked home.” He asked as the door closed behind him; you couldn’t look at him again.

“Cuz, I did.” There was no use lying, anything you could come up with was just as stupid as the truth.

You could practically hear him lift his brow. “The fuck you do that for? Vic still has both of us on probation, getting sick could be a fucking death sentence.” Annoyed disapproval drips from his voice the same water is still dripping from your hair.

“Needed to think.” You offered lamely as you made for the closet, intent on both getting dry clothes and not letting him see your face.

“About what?” He asks from by the bed, where you’d seen Nibbles lounging, but when you didn’t respond you heard him take a few steps closer. “About what?” He asked a little louder, either thinking you hadn’t heard him, or intent on not letting you ignore him.

“Lots of shit, Johnny. What? You want a fucking catalog of my daily thoughts? Didn’t get enough of that when you were in my head?” You snapped sharper than intended, but you just wanted to make him shut up.

You heard his footsteps once more, and before you could move or look at him, he was at your back. “Thought we’d moved past snapping at each other to avoid talking about shit.” His tone was hard but not cold, like he could tell something was up.

“It doesn’t matter…” Why did you sound so fucking small? You hated it.

“Bright-Eyes…Look at me.” His hand feels like fire when it lands on the icy skin of your shoulder, where he tried to turn you, but you resisted. “Please…Look at me.” Your heart stops, it’s like you can hear the words that haunt you all over again. “Get up. Please, I can’t leave without you. I need you…Get up.” Same tone, begging and just barely this side of desperation.

And like a sleeper agent that’s heard her trigger word, you turned, but you can’t lift your eyes to meet his, you know he’s taken off those damn glasses and you can’t bear to see his eyes looking at you, your heart will store it away just like those words, and you can’t handle yet another thing making you hope like a gonk for more than you’re allowed to have.

People like you don’t get to love and be happy, if they were, Jackie would still be alive, and Misty wouldn’t be alone.

As if sensing that you won’t meet his gaze, Johnny lifts his metal hand as his flesh one slides down to your upper arm, searing hot skin making yours tingle, even his metal hand feels warmer than you, a shiver of a different kind rolls down your spine and you want to yank yourself out of his hold, but his grip tightens just a little, like he knew what you were thinking, but then he probably did. You’d put money on it that he knows your every micro expression and what they all mean, which terrifies you if you’re honest.

“Go take a shower, you’re freezing.” He whispers, warm breath fanning over your face, smelling of whiskey and cigarettes, such a Johnny smell. He let you go to reach past you for the clean clothes you were going to grab and passes them into your hands.

As if a spell was broken, you moved around him to head across the room to the bathroom, but you could still feel his eyes on you. The urge to snip at him about watching you undress sat on the back of your tongue, but you swallowed it.

By the time you’re pulling your wet tank top over your head, you no longer feels the heat of his eyes on you, then you heard the radio turn on, some oldies rock station playing some ballad that you don’t recognize, but you hear him quietly sing along to it, for a nanosecond you think you hear more emotion in it than when he normally mumbled along with the radio, but shake the thought away.

The water feels pleasantly scalding when you step through the fog of steam and into the spray. Tilting your head into the warmth to wash away the chilled water still clinging to your hair, you hear his voice no longer melding with that of the radio, though you still hear the song playing over the sound of the showerhead.

Eyes closed to keep the water out of them, you feel his eyes on you once more, not as close as by the closet, but certainly not from across the room. Running a hand over your face to clear your vision you turned and were met with Johnny standing there looking like he’s debating something.

“Johnny?” You questioned, no real thought given to the fact that you’re naked, he’s seen you a dozen times since Mikoshi, granted all those where when you both were recovering and you needed help getting dressed, but it was all the same to you.

Hearing you say his name seemed to help him make whatever decision he was working on, and before you could react or say anything else, he was crowding into your space, both of you under the spray, drenching him in hot water. But neither cared about that, neither was thinking about that, not when his lips were pressed to yours so hard it’s like he needs it to breathe.

Your back pressed to the wall, his hands holding your face, rings rapidly growing warm from your skin and the water, metal hand doing the same, the coarse hair on his face rubbing against your skin, making the goosebumps that had long since settled return full force.

You kissed him back for all of a second before you realized what was happening and pushed him back, he put a few inches between your faces, but gave no more land than that. “Johnny, what the fuck are you doing?” You panted, looking up at him with a tentative look of hope that mixed with fear and it damn near breaks his heart to see it.

“Not making the same mistakes twice.” He answered, thumb brushing over your lower lip, clearly thinking about kissing you again.

Your heart seized in her chest again. “Stop it.” It comes out cold and it’s clear he wasn’t expecting it.

“What?” He’s dumbfounded, had be misread things? No way, he knows what he saw when he was in your head, what he felt.

“Don’t fuck with me, Johnny.” The hope in your eyes turned hard, a wall going up that he’s all too familiar with. “I’m not her.” Your voice is small again.

His shock melted away as understanding took its place. “I know. Never wanted you to be her.”

“Then what the Hell are you doing?” Your fingers had curled into the wet fabric of his shirt, so he can neither move closer nor pull away.

“I already said.” He answered before taking a slow breath. “I was shit when I had her and lost her because I was a fucking moron, and I did a lot of shit in her name after that that didn’t fix anything. I never deserved her, and I sure as shit don’t deserve you, but fuck if I’m not going to shoot my shot and try.” He said with the same conviction he had when he went on one of his anti-corp rants, only this was a lot softer, a lot less angry.

As he spoke, he watched the hardness in your eyes soften and that hope return, but it’s slow, you’re digging your claws in, trying not to get your hopes up, still waiting for the Gotcha “I won’t be another quick fuck…I can’t…I can’t be no strings…” It feels searing admitting to that.

He leans in once more, till his forehead meets yours, eyes unable to look anywhere but at each other. “Neither can I.” You can barely hear him over the shower, but you do, and your heart races.

Using the leverage of your hold on his shirt, you pulled him back in, mashing your lips to his in a messy desperate kiss that steals both your breaths, falling into him with slow tentative twists of your lips.

His hands trail down from your face, over your neck where your hair is plastered to your skin, down your body, avoiding every sensitive place that you crave his touch, to settle on your hips, pulling you closer and grinding against you.

He feels you shiver against him at the stimulation, little though it is, but he savors it all the same, right along with the way your beath hitches in your chest, he wants to hear it again, wants to hear more, wants to make you cry out his name and tell the whole megabuilding who you belong to.

He’s loathed to do it, but he breaks the kiss and slips his hands down to grip the backs of your thighs to lift you up, instinct taking over to wrap your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands slipping into his hair to twist in the strands, softer than one might expect.

A lazy hand shot out to turn off the shower before he left the bathroom, leaving a trail of water on the floor to the bed. Rather than toss you on the bed like you expected him to, he sits on the edge and settles you on his lap, and with you secured there his hands moved up into your hair to pull you into another deep kiss that’s all tongues and teeth.

You wonder if he can feel your heart racing where your chests are pressed together, your hands are shaking as they come to rest on the space where his neck meets his shoulders, fingers still twisted in the wet strands of his hair, unable to pull the away, scared you’ll float away if you stop touching him.

This is a dream; it has to be. But does that really matter? If it is then you never want to wake up, and if it’s not then you won’t have to.

The heat at the apex of your thighs had begun to ache, craving something, anything more from him. You don’t even seem to notice when your hips start to grind against him, and it pulls a hungry grin from him that breaks your kiss, and you make this pitiful little cutoff humming sound when he meets you halfway with his own hips, eyes rolling closed and face tilted forward, forehead to forehead.

He can’t take his eyes off you, never could. That used to piss him off, reminded him too much of Alt and how she made him feel, but this was different, both women pulled his passion to the forefront, but only you had ever made him feel like he was capable of being decent, like he deserved to be.

Now, as your breaths mingle, hips driving against each other like they’ll die if they stop, he can’t help but take in every minute detail, from the color of your lashes to the way the space between your brows crinkles as they draw together in desperate need to the panting breaths falling from your kiss swollen lips that he craves.

But there’s something else he craves even more.

Taking hold of you once more he flips you both, laying you on the bed beneath him, you don’t resist, all too happy to do whatever it takes to have more of him on you, around you, in you.

Your hair splays under your head like a halo and Johnny thinks that if you’re what God looks like, then maybe he was wrong not believe.

He hovers over you for a moment, taking in your face, your body, the way your chest heaves with every desperate breath. Then, when his forever limited patience runs out, he trails his hands down your sides, over your hips, and stopping on your thighs, strong and soft as they part so willingly for him.

Leaning in his lips follow a similar road as that of his hands, making detours at your tits to take a nipple in his mouth to suck and nip, making the flesh turn blush dark and your back arch up into him, a shuddery sigh passing from your lips. He could live the rest of his life lavishing your breasts like this, but the heat from between your thighs is beckoning him.

So, he continues on his path, pressing his lips to every new patch of skin he reaches till he gets to your hips, where he bites down till a pretty red, soon to be purple, mark blooms. Your hands thread into his hair as he marks you, but other than twisting into the strands you don’t do anything, needing the anchor more than anything else.

Settling between your thighs he’s met with the beautiful sight that is your glisteningly wet pussy, wanton and waiting for him to give whatever he will.

Ever the tease, Johnny leaves a couple more darkening marks on your inner thighs, watching your body tense in pleasure, before finally, finally, running his tongue over your aching heat, from bottom to top, where your clit is swollen and begging to be touched.

Your whole body jumped when he flicked his tongue over it, thighs trying to close on his head out of reflex, but his hands, strong yet gentle, hold them open as he latches on and sucks for only a second, yanking a gasp from between your lips.

“Fuck…” You breathed, sounding more like another reflex than an actual thought.

“We’ll get to that, Bright-eyes…Just let me take care of you…” He purrs against your flesh.

Trailing his flesh hand down your leg then back up again he runs his fingertips slowly around the opening of your beautiful pussy, it’s an almost reverent action, coating his skin before pushing one in, a slow and shallow in and out.

He was never really this gentle with Alt, she’d never wanted him to be, and Johnny’s pretty sure that if he asked you, you’d tell him the same to protect your ego, but the way your body was melting under him told a different story.

It told of a woman so used to being treated roughly, used to sandy winds whipping her face and sun scorched skin, fists and bullets, hard fucking and yanked hair, that all it took was a few gentle touches and sweet words and she was melting like so much ice in his hands.

It both warmed his heart and made it ache.

Soon enough he’d eased that one clever finger in enough to curl it up and brush against that spongy spot he was dying to see your reaction to.

It was everything he hoped it would be and more. Your cunt tightened around him sharply, your thighs did the same, but his shoulders didn’t let them get far, you let out moans and gasps that were nothing short of pure music. All those things he’d expected, but he hadn’t expected your hand to slip from his hair and fall down to where his metal hand was still holding your thigh to grip his fingers, a silent plea to let you hold it if ever he saw one.

So, he did.

Johnny wasn’t the type to hold hands, something so elementary just wasn’t his thing, but a lot of things weren’t his ‘thing’ till you, his Bright-eyes. So, he’d hold your hand, he’d never let it go if that’s what you wanted of him, he’d live and die by those digits wrapped around his.

And he slipped a second finger into you, giving you only a second to get used to the sensation before he was back to massaging your G-Spot with his fingertips, but that wasn’t all he did, he reattached his lips to your clit and ran over it with his tongue in circles, giving it the occasional suck to pull a jolt from your body.

You were like a livewire of coiled muscles and aching for release. Your eyes had long since fallen closed, unable to keep them open, gripping his hand like it was the only thing keeping you on this plain of existence, pussy gripping his fingers like a vice.

“Johnny…” You pleaded, high and just this side of a whine. “Please…” Your thighs were starting to shake as you begged, so very close.

But Johnny is a bastard, even when he’s being nice, so he has to tease you just a little more. “Please, what? What do you want, Bright-eyes?” He asked lowly, smirking against you. “Gotta use your words.” He felt you clench at those words, but he was already teasing you, so he’d address that later.

“…Please…So close…” You managed, sounding close to crying.

His smirk grew just a little more. “Then open those eyes and look at me. Let me watch you cum on my fingers.” He ordered, keeping you teetering on that edge till you obeyed.

Your gaze was foggy with pleasure and wet with unshed tears, it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire fucking life.

His eyes never left yours as he returned to your clit and worked it and his fingers till those tears slipped free, leaving wet lines down your face, but your eyes didn’t close, though it looked like you were fighting it with your whole being.

He watched as you teetered on the edge for all of a few seconds before plummeting off it in a show of dilated pupils, choked off moans, clenching muscles, hand white knuckle with how tight it held his hand, and trembling thighs, well, more like trembling everything.

But the thing that drew him in, the thing that made his chest feel tight and his cock jump in his jeans, is that your eyes never once, not for even a second, left his. Those endless portals of life stayed locked on the bottomless expanse of brown of his own eyes.

After a long several moments he had to break eye contact because he felt like he’d cum in his pants like a teenager if he didn’t.

Pressing a kiss to your thigh, still shaking, leaving a wet mark where your slick clung to his facial hair, then left a trail of such marks as he kissed his way back up your body, till he got back to your lips, where you met him halfway, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Neither let go of the others hand, but your free hand cradled his cheek like he was made of porcelain, your palm calloused from years in the desert and Solo work but still so soft.

You stayed like that, lip locked and sharing the same air, for a bit while you came down from your high, and when you were dragging him back down to grind against him once more, he pulled away just long enough to devest himself till he matched your nudity, then he was back again.

He didn’t need to ask if you needed a condom, he knew you had an implant, so he wasted no time lining up and slowly pushing in, taking it inch by inch because even Johnny knew he was too big to go in all at once like an asshole, and there were some lines he’d never cross, hurting his bedfellows was one of them, less they asked real nice of course, but there was time for that later, right now his Bright-eyes needed soft, and damn if you weren’t going to get it.

Your face twisted in pleasure as he entered, and a broken gasp fell from your lips. “I know, baby, I know…” He breathed before pressing his lips to your neck. “So good, fuck…” You were tighter than he expected, but he wasn’t shocked, you hadn’t had any partners when he was in your head, and you didn’t seem particularly interested in finding any after you were in your own bodies.

Your hand returned to gripping his metal one as soon as he was back on you, the other found its home on his shoulder where your nails dug in, the pinch of pain sent a thrill down his spine that made it harder not to thrust into you.

“Johnny.” You said in a breath, getting his attention.

“Hm?” He hummed against your pulse point.

“If you don’t move in the next three seconds, I’m going to do it for you.” You threatened, though with how hard you were breathing it was a loose threat at best.

He smiled, not smirked, not grinned, honest to God smiled as he looked down at you. Rather than make some smart comment, he did as you asked, pulling out to the tip then pushing back in, so slow it was torture for both of you, especially when your still sensitive walls fluttered around him.

It was slow, or at least slower than you expected, his build up in speed. A small part of you expected him to be rough with you, you expected him to fuck you, not this. There was no way to describe this but as making love.

Just as quickly as before that coil in your belly started to tighten, and Johnny seemed to see it immediately. “Look at you…” He breathed as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open. “Taking me so well, baby…So fucking well…” His voice turned into a growl at the end, and you couldn’t help the way it made your insides clench.

Every roll of his hips had his tip brushing hard against your G-Spot, while the hair at his base kept a steady pressure against your clit, and that didn’t even cover what his lips and words were doing to you. Your whole body felt so hot you thought you might combust, but you didn’t dare let him stop.

Your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him in further, which served to leverage your hips up just right to have him pressing deeper, which you had thought impossible a second before.

You felt yourself once more on the edge of orgasm and he knew it, be it from the way you sounded or the way very part of you was clinging to him even tighter, he knew. “Shit…You’re so perfect…Gonna cum on my cock? Hm?” He hummed as much to himself as to you, probably to distract himself so he didn’t cum before you.

You couldn’t have answered him if you wanted to, it was all too much, too perfect, before you even realized it the coil snapped and you came hard, so hard your vision went white and you think you might have passed out for a few seconds because the next thing you heard was his voice rasping out your name mixed with several swears while his hips stuttered and you felt heat flood your insides.

He didn’t collapse on you the way other guys you’ve slept with had, he did lower himself enough to rest chest to chest, but his knees and free hand kept him propped up enough as not to crush you.

His face was pressed into your neck while you both caught your breath, and after a moment he pulled back to press his forehead to yours, eyes closed but it made him feel even closer, so you certainly weren’t complaining.

When both your breathing evened out, he opened his eyes and looked at you, finding you already searching his face. Trepidation was there at the bare edges of your gaze but seemed to be held back by the fact that he hadn’t pulled away or said anything shitty to you yet.

“You okay?” He said softly, quietly so as not to disturb the calm that had fallen on the room.

He watched your throat work around a swallow, and you nodded ever so slightly. “Yeah…” You breathed, voice sounding thick.

He gave your hand, still wrapped so tightly around his metal one, a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Bright-eyes…” He said, knowing you needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.

Your eyes widened slightly and grew wet but before tears could fall you pulled him down into a kiss, this one was filled with a different kind of passion, it was softer, sweeter. “I love you, Johnny.”

He helped you clean up after that before going to bed, the radio still playing the same oldies station quietly.

“I have traveled beyond the path of reason…Take me back to Eden…Take me back to Eden…”

#johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand/v #Johnny Silverhand/Reader #Cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #x reader #one shot #smut

226 notes · View notes

elvenbeard · 3 months

Text

A Day in the Life (like any other) - 2076 edition

Time for some big VP projects again :3 This one was so much fun to set up, edit, and assemble into a post (several, really, I took so many pics). I'll share some more details on all scenes below the cut but yes. I really wanted to give a glimpse into how I picture Vince's life to look like when he still worked for Arasaka - and how, specifically during late 2076, the days began to bleed into each other, he got trapped in an endless cycle, and, in hindsight, was lucky that Jackie helped break him out of it all.

Days for Arasaka employees start early and are long - on a relatively calm and normal day, he probably would have to get up and get ready between 6-7 am. At that time he needed lots of meds, boosters, drugs to get out of bed in the morning and make it through the day somehow, keep up his performance the way it always used to be prior to some traumatic event TM that happened in early/mid 2076.

He lived close to Corpo Plaza though at least, so walking to work was feasible, and a means to get some semi-fresh air and actual movement in during a day otherwise spent mostly in front of the computer.

Occasionally I think Jenkins would call for a morning meeting (and few people would like those), where he'd discuss important measures, plans, and so on. Some more impressions from this, because I love setting up big group scenes:

Most of Vince's day would probably have consisted of data analysis, overseeing and planning strikes against enemy corporations on big and small scales, and maintaining Arasaka's own security and secrets. I love the many little glimpses into the dark and twisted corpo workday we get through what NPCs say and the Corpo dialogues, but I'd love to know even more!

For his lunch he'd actually leave the office, and if no coworker invited him elsewhere, Vince would always be drawn to the Plaza. Find a nice spot to sit or just walk around the Plaza a couple of times to clear his head and sort his thoughts for the rest of the day. In 2077 it's still one of his favourite places in all of NC, and watching the holographic fishes swim their circles has something calming and meditative about it. Spoiler alert, in that spot he's sitting here in these pics he ends up after Mikoshi, stumbling out of Arasaka Tower. He just sits down and passes out watching the fish ;_;

But now, back to 2076:

I figure, with the kinds of high stakes missions Counterintel probably carries out, a lot of planning has to go into them. And preparation as close to real-life condition as possible. So I think the agents probably play through their missions in cyberspace prior to carrying them out in the real world, in a safe environment, recording everything, and analyizing it the next day during the morning meeting.

As a very traditional Japanese corporation it's probably customary at Arasaka to not really be allowed to leave your workplace before your boss hasn't. So It often gets late, everyone is tired and frustrated, and not rarely the same groups of people would end up in the same bars. Vince doesn't and didn't drink back then, but being in and around Japantown certainly was an opportunity to stock up on drugs or otherwise numb himself from what his life had become at that point.

He was never very close to any of his coworkers besides Harry, who I always pictured as some kind of guiding figure for him. He was there long before Vince started at Arasaka, and he'll probably remain there in his little cubicle for as long as he still cares to keep to himself and a low profile, just doing his thing well with little ambitions to make it big. The latter is what usually breaks corpos their neck, but I think for every V, Jenkins, Abernathy, there are at least a dozen Harrys who are content with being a tiny, insignificant cogwheel in the huge corporate machinery.

Vince's days would often end way too late and at that time he's incapable of sleeping without pills and the like, so it begins how it ends: self-medicating in the hopes it will somehow make this never-ending cycle easier to bear.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk vp #cp2077 #cp2077 vp #cyberpunk photomode #virtual photography #corpo v #cyberpunk v #male v cyberpunk #vincent ezaki #my vp

61 notes · View notes

dread-red-queen · 22 days

Text

🚫 Do not re-upload/edit my shots/art without my permission🚫

Pic 1: Raven: Are they talking to us?

pic 2: Goro: What did you say? Raven: Dont Goro!

pic 3: Goro: now you have done it. Raven: I will cut you!

9 notes · View notes

lili0writes · 2 years

Text

Maine's crew with a non crew member s/o

Note: You are a friend of Maine and decided to help them out with some jobs, and you start dating one of them. (GIFs aren't mine)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Characters: David, Rebecca, Lucy

TW: mention of drinking, violence

David

When David first met you he didn't really know how to approach you.

Not that you looked scary or intimidating. You were just so caught up with the others, that he didn't bother trying. And because he has a fat crush on you.

But when you did approach him later on, he found you pretty chill. You decided to give your contact info to him. After that getting invited to the Afterlife to drink with the crew became a regular thing.

The more invites you got the more time you spent with him, and you started going out to drink with him regularly, just the two of you.

Even if you weren't out, you still hung out at your place.

After a while he started to get braver around you, after a few drinks he started getting a bit touchy even, putting his arm over your shoulders, leaning on you while you had a conversation, nagging you to take him home when he felt noxious after too many drinks and so on.

You started helping him out more often with jobs, and eventually you decided to join the crew.

David was happy about this, but he became more anxious about you getting hurt. Although he would let you defend yourself and do your thing, he did start watching out for you more than he did before.

And after one too many heartfelt conversations, and a bunch of teasing from Maine and maybe even a bit from Rebecca, he told you about his feelings towards you.

He was surprised when you told him you felt the same, but he was happy non the less.

Lucy

She has met you on a couple of occasions where you helped Maine out on jobs. But not all too many times have you spoken with each other.

She was glad you were helping, especially when it came to Arasaka related jobs.

But when you started having conversations with each other, you got along quite well. And you started talking more outside of work related things.

You started going over to her place often at night just to chat. And when you two weren't alone you mostly talked with Kiwi about recent NC gossip.

When things started to get more romantic between the two of you, it was you who got more touchy. When you were sitting beside each other you put your arms around her waist and leaned your head on her shoulder (only when you weren't in public though). And when you were walking she let you hold her hand most of the time.

When you decided to join the crew she wasn't happy at all.

She started worrying about you getting hurt. Altough she isn't the type to stop you from doing something. You could tell when she was against something.

When you asked her on why she was always so worried all of a sudden she told you about how she felt towards you.

When you told her about your feelings towards her she was happy, but she was still more worried about losing you than anything.

Rebecca

Rebecca and you got along from the very first time you met.

When you first started helping out with jobs you two were always talking and laughing.

Even when you weren't helping out you talked regularly on the phone, or even in person.

Hugging was a regular thing wether you were in public or not. It wasn't unusual for her to jump into your arms when you haven't seen each other in a while.

She was the one to go over because she didn't want to have you around his brother, for multiple reasons. Because she's territorial with you when he's around.

When you weren't hanging out at your place, you guys were mostly with the crew drinking at the Afterlife.

When you decided to join the crew she was ecstatic. From then on you two were always together whenever a shooting broke out. She knew you could handle yourself just fine, but she did look out for you. She was ready to save your butt any minute of the day.

When it came to confesseing it was surprisingly you who did. It wasn't even a planned confession. You just flat out told her how much you like her.

She was really happy about it, and she was smiling for the rest of the week.

If you want to read more like this don't be shy to ask for them, my requests are open!!

#cyberpunk #edgerunners rebecca #edgerunners lucy #edgerunners david #fanfic #x reader #david martinez x reader #rebecca x reader #lucy x reader #cyberpunk edgerunners #cyberpunk 2077

735 notes · View notes

imaginarycyberpunk2023 · 7 months

Text

OC: Macha Richter // Corpo Days

I did these a couple of months back and I still like them which is a feat in itself. Again, this is her corpo time so everything needs to be confined and strict. I used red lights to bring in Arasaka color bc this location only had blue lights. And the red accents the suit nicely that also looks super restrictive and not like something I would be happy to wear. But what a dope design. I like the aesthetic of all of this - suit, location, her corpo look. It's super clean and in stark contrast to what she becomes later in life - when she finally liberates herself, makes her own decisions and becomes her own woman 🧡

Bonus:

54 notes · View notes

quickhacked · 29 days

Text

// oc in 15.

tagged by; @devilbrakers, thank you so much!! tagging; @reaperkiller, @vvanessaives, @hibernationsuit, @katsigian, @adelaidedrubman, @dickytwister, @rindemption, @noirapocalypto and YOU!

rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an oc, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the oc. bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

decided to do this for vincent since he is the main character of my cyberpunk universe and it's been a hot sec since i talked about him! these bits are all from various fics including the broker which is a long fic that i'll never shut up about. sorry. i've included more than just the dialogue since a lot of vincent's manner of speech is also in his body language and internal monologue :^) his voice claim is basically masc v from in-game but with very distinct southern flair

from chapter 7 of the broker:

‘Here we are,’ Vincent repeated, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket and flinching lightly when he heard an explosion in the distance. ‘Just another fuckin’ day in Night City.’

from an unreleased fic i still need to finish and post:

‘The Deckhead?' Vincent asked. 'Fried to a crisp. Found ‘im hooked up to the Net high off his tits- he had an intruder alarm set up but it caused him to panic, ‘n he disconnected himself too soon. Lights went out before I could do anything.’

paraphrased from this fic, showing that vincent can and will talk to johnny out loud whenever he wants:

‘What the fuck,’ Vincent blurted out, voice shaky as he took another step back. […] Johnny raised a hand and gestured vaguely at Vincent, and himself, and the space between them. ‘You don’t have to speak out loud when you- I feel like I’ve said this before.’

from an unreleased fic:

‘Maelstrom wasn’t too happy I was running off with their toys,’ Vincent answered, eyes lingering on the bruise on Vitali’s face. ‘Had to flatline half of ‘em before I could get out.’

from chapter 11 of the broker:

‘Peachy,’ Vincent said and gave him a thumbs up. His mantis blade was still deployed and he nearly cut himself with it.

from chapter 16 of the broker:

‘Right.’ He stepped back, visibly biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes wandered off into the rest of the living room and he did a mocking salute in Vitali’s direction. ‘Yessir.’

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘Pleased to make your acquaintance?’ Vincent said, the sentence more a question than a statement, and he frowned slightly as he watched Dupoint walk around the desk and sit down opposite of him while unbuttoning the jacket of his slightly too big suit.

from an unreleased fic:

‘Yep, that was me,’ Vincent said in response, his voice suddenly a couple of octaves higher. Smooth talkin’, you fucking airhead. You sound like a damn high schooler.

from this fic, talking to johnny out loud again:

‘Right, ‘cuz apologizing means everything is instantly forgiven and forgotten,’ Vincent snapped, accidentally startling an old lady he passed by; he quickly raised his hand to her as an apology and fastened his pace.

from an unreleased fic:

‘Born ‘n raised in the Glen, yeah,’ Vincent answered, flinching when he noticed the edge of someone’s umbrella get dangerously close to his face. ‘Won’t find the nicest people there but at least they generally know they’re not the only gonk on the fucking road.’

from this fic:

‘Headache that comes and goes-’ Vincent paused and glared at Johnny. ‘- but yeah, peachy. And you’re right. Worrying doesn’t help anyone.’

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘V has had a lot of things on his mind, as of late,’ Vincent dryly said. ‘Please do enlighten me.’

from this fic, talking to johnny out loud again:

‘Alright, speaking rights fucking revoked,’ Vincent cut him off, visibly startling Vitali who had just slightly leaned in to Vincent’s touch. ‘Piss off, Johnny. Jesus.’

from chapter 15 of the broker:

Grant Armitage. Some seemingly random Arasaka exec with “his greasy little fingers stuck right up Yorinobu’s golden ass”, as Vincent had described him a few days prior.

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘A fully opened center.’ Dupoint paused, raised an eyebrow, and glanced back at Vincent. ‘Do you know what that move is called, V?’ Vincent shrugged, and swallowed his laughter. ‘Dunno. The American Nutcracker?’

#tag games #ask:vincent #yes i keep mentioning that he talks to johnny out loud most of the time but it's important for his character i need you to understand #it's funny to watch him startle everyone around him by suddenly starting to speak to johnny out loud. boy you could pretend you're on a cal #also i didn't really know who to tag for this because i'm out of the loop with who writes etc etc so i just grabbed some regulars #but as always feel free to kill me with hammers for whatever reason honestly i won't take it personally

18 notes · View notes

cybervesna · 1 year

Photo

“Vincenzo Giovanna and Hanako Arasaka with their cat Nibbles, exclusively for our latest issue! Get the details of their love straight from the most powerful couple this world has ever seen.”

Amazing art from @sidver THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE IT 😭