#cod au: cybernetics

[the-whispers-of-death]

cyberpunk/cybernetics au? something something stone having cybernetics installed into him from like, idk various injuries on the field.

reader being a mechanic who specializes in said body modifications/prosthetics and is basically the on-base robot doctor/

maybe he gets a malfunction on the fieldor something destroys a part of the circuitry in the arm and that just renders, lets say his robot arm, utterly useless and now the local doc's forced to go to his own doctor who's always covered in grease and muck and practically lives on base cuz of how many incidents keep happening.

lets be fr the workshop they gave reader to work in is probably the gnarliest and messiest place on the whole base, but hey, reader's the only guy they've got whos willing to put up with snappy and injured "patients" so. welp

or.. something something because reader's a *mechanic* and not like an actual human doc, unlike stone. reader pushing himself to the limits because "for fucks sake, i dont need sleep when half your wires were burned off-!". something something after everything's fixed up and stone can move his fingers now, its time for a mini role reversal thats just them bickering (they are so in love but cannot admit shit due to their jobs)

"you NEED to go to bed-! my sensors are picking up you havent slept in what, 39 hours!? damnit, you!" "not like i can fuckin' sleep much with you always being so busted after missions that it takes 7 hours straight to fix this shit! i told you, the metal is NOT heat resistant at all! i swear, if you keep doing this imma think you actually WANT to be in the workshop!" "and if you keep staying up so long the only place you'll end up is *my* bed-! wait no-"

need to give stone a badass robot arm

~ rusty

Stone totally has a badass robot arm and no I will not not hear any criticisms.

Anyways, yeah, you two bicker like old lovers already. Stone wants you to stop going without sleep for so long and you want him to stop literally diving in front of bullets and doing crazy heroic shit. No one has seen two doctors who are so careless with their own lives before, but here you two are.

He regularly (and lovingly) threatens to throw you onto a bed and tie you up so you can sleep. You respond by threatening to do a poor job of repairing his robotic arm so he gets honorably discharged from the military and stops doing reckless shit.

Some people on base don't believe you two like each other. Others believe you two are secretly married already.

[sunnieray]

Welcome to my blog!

Feel the sun!

hello! I'm sunnie | 20+ | this is my sideblog for all my cod writings and thoughts

I write a lot of NSFW and such. Please read the tags before diving into my work!

I also draw a bit when it strikes my fancy

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Links:

Ongoing:

Bait: Post-MW3!Johnny x Cybernetic Specialist! Reader

Completed:

N/A

Drabbles:

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish:

Oral Fixation 🔞

CS!AU - Opus

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

CS! AU - Pretty Boy

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

CS!AU - High Functioning Flesh

Requests:

I'm open to them! Ask away!

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

Cyberpunk!Shadow Company AU by @r0ttenb0gb0dy (Part Two!) part one

TW: minor body horror when describing cybernetic implants and typical COD/Cyberpunk violence.

Much to his own shock, Coda settles right into the masochistic tango of working for Ace. He finds out quickly that the mysterious owner of Shadows has tabs on everything Coda does, to the point that he’ll occasionally open his door to Asian takeout already ordered and paid for by Ace. It smells delicious every time, shit — it's exactly what he wants every time.

Instead of thanking Ace, he just does his job, and he does it effectively.

Coda quickly finds himself getting into more and more trouble for the fixer, always getting chased down by the current group he’s pissing off. Whether that be scavs, Maelstrom gonks or Animals in Pacifica. He's usually getting into firefights that he can luckily win thanks to the new chrome Ace continues to supply.

It's just the arm at first, Rex taking his time to adjust to it before agreeing to any more implants, which Ace pushes on him without hesitation.

Top of the line Kiroshi optics come first after the prosthetic, complete with the highest quality scanners that eddies can buy. He tells Coda that he’ll just tack it onto his debt, reasoning being that he needs good optics in order to survive in mercenary work. Coda tries to pull one over on him and run a scan with them, to see if they bring up any of Ace’s real information, but they don't.

Then comes the armor. It's low grade, enough to stop a hollow point from blowing his other arm off, though. His flesh feels the same with the low level armor beneath it, but if he pushes too hard he can feel the scaly pattern of the metal through the first few layers of his skin.

A Kerenzikov boost system here, a Militech Berserk there.

He barely bats an eye whenever Ace dangles a Cyberware Compressor in front of him, stating that he can get more chrome installed if he uses it. Supposedly, when in use with a stronger capacity shard, he can run even higher amounts of chrome without the chance of going psycho.

Coda installs it without a second thought.

He watches the numbers every time Bones runs a diagnostic exam, tapping his fingers anxiously as he watches the limit get pushed further and further past what he ever would've done for himself. A monowire to the throat on a gig means that he gets a new one, metal scales now covering the exterior of his neck, going down to his chest in a design that's purely aesthetic. The clean cut lines and wires of the cybernetic implants are nothing short of a vicious, bloody contrast to the jagged surgery scars that run beneath his pecs, a reminder that he’s human under all of that chrome.

“You know, you're racking up more debt than you started with.” Bones says as she holds Coda’s palm in her own, fine tuning the newest grip he installed to ensure it functions alongside the MaxTac arm without any hiccups.

“It’s worth it. You should see me out in the streets, doc, I’m starting to make a name for myself.” Coda replies nonchalantly, locking eyes with the ripperdoc for just a moment. Fleeting, as all things are in this town.

“Just don't push your luck, okay?”

“I’m not.” Coda replies, firm in his belief that he can quit at any time. He tells himself he can always walk away from this lifestyle, a wannabe street samurai, and he tells everyone else that too.

Nobody believes him.

He’s at home one night, staring himself down in the reflection of his mirror when there’s a thunk at his front door. Heavy, like someone has intentions of busting it open if he doesn't open it for them. This is the reality. The door is broken open in an instant, shuddering in malfunction as Coda flicks his mantis blade out, barely having enough time to react when his attackers strike.

It's vicious and raw, the tussle, but it ends in a pair of dead scavs and Coda covered in their blood. His apartment is in shambles, his hands are shaking, and he can barely think straight enough to scoot back against the wall from where he collapsed on the floor.

Coda’s eyes stay locked on the twitching door, knowing damn well he has about five minutes until the badges show up with the sort of commotion that was going on. The illegal chrome covering his body like bondage starts to feel like a death sentence rather than an extension of the self.

Who gives a fuck if theyre scavs? One look at Coda and the pigs’ll assume he’s going psycho.

MaxTac won’t be so kind as to check and see if he’s feeling alright.

Before he knows it, he’s calling Ace on the Holo, praying that he picks up. He still hasn't moved from where he’s sitting on the floor, watching the dead scav’s body shifting with residual electrical impulses.

Come on, come on, come on — pick up.

“Coda. What's wrong? S’the middle of the night.” Ace sounds like he just woke up. Coda can't see his face on the holo, it's like he's got the feed covered or something — that or it’s just too dark to see.

“I-I need help.” Coda stutters out. He swallows the anxiety welling in his chest and slowly stands, knowing he needs to get his shit together and delta. “Scavs broke in, I…I’m fine, I just — I know if a badge sees this and sees me…”

“Right, yeah — s’alright.” Ace replies, a slight urgency to his tone. “I catch your drift, I’ll be there in five.”

“No — I can't stay here, Ace.”

“Okay — meet me here, then?”

“Where?” Coda is more hurried now, as he hustles around his apartment to grab up whatever belongings he can. Personal effects for the time being, identification, weapons. He's got a bag slung over his shoulder and is already calling Betty up from the parking garage whenever he’s running out the door.

“I’ll zip you the address.” Ace hangs up and in the corner of his vision Coda can see it, the address of a location he’s unfamiliar with. What he can only assume to be Ace’s abode. He doesn't pay much mind to anything as he jogs to the lift, then down to the ground floor of the mega building, eyes darting all around the plaza as he sprints to get into Betty. His belongings are tossed on the passenger seat as he throws the car into gear and starts off, following his in-optic GPS to the coordinates.

It's a short drive to Westbrook, North Oaks to be specific.

He passes Shadows on the way, the usual evening activity whirring along, but chooses to go to the North Oaks address instead. Ace wouldn't intentionally send him to the wrong place, he has faith in that by this point — afterall, he's let the man pump him full of expensive, illegal cyberware implants. It's a rather large, comfortable home whenever he pulls up the driveway. No, it's not a billion dollar mansion, but it's bigger than Coda could've expected it to be. His hands are still shaking slightly whenever he gets out of the car and starts walking up the short path to the front door, eyes lingering briefly on a car in the drive — the same make, model and colour as his own.

This must be Ace's personal home.

It sure looks like he lives here, now that Coda thinks about it, a subtle dark aura about the place giving off the same general air that the fixer does. He’s about to knock when the door opens, and he sort of stares blankly for a moment.

Ace.

The live distortion field shudders slightly, a harsh line against the tan expanse of his chest — he hasn't a shirt on, barely has a loose pair of pajama pants on, and slippers. It's warm enough outside that this doesn't seem to faze Coda at all, but Ace knows the cards he's playing and he knows them intimately.

“This is your place?” Coda asks, quiet as he looks at the fixer, his boss, curiously.

“Wasn’t gonna drive to Shadows, just in case the scav-pack knew you worked for me.” Ace replies, still largely blocking the doorway with his frame. He leans on it slightly, reaching out to wipe a smear of blood off of Coda’s cheek. “You’re filthy, sugar. C’mon, let's get you cleaned up.”

It's an act of humanity that Coda doesn't necessarily expect, not whenever Ace has been fairly hands off this far. He gives him his gigs, manages his mounting debt, and that's about it save for occasionally assigning someone to help him through cyberware implant recovery. Coda follows Ace inside his home, the door shutting behind them, and he’s astonished. The place is spick-and-span, floor to ceiling, wall to wall. It's not decorated in any sort of comforting way, rather sterile in nature, but Coda can see the occasional personal touch. Boots by the door, takeout on the kitchen table — he’s barely paying attention, though, because he’s inside Ace’s bedroom. The bathroom is through there, he says, and he's not lying. A large, cozy bath is just past the master bedroom, complete with a shower and tub.

“I'll let you be, but I’d love to stitch you up afterwards if that's alright? Got a real deep gash across the front of your face, sugar.” Ace says from the doorway, watching Coda yank his bloodstained shirt off and toss it to the floor. He glances back at the fixer and sort of nods.

“Yeah, sure. You think it needs stitches?” Coda touches at his nose, wincing slightly. He pulls back a bloody finger, confirming Ace’s musings.

“It does, promise. Don't wanna fuck that handsome face up.”

“You’re funny.” Coda replies as he sits on the edge of the tub and pulls off his boots, followed by his jeans — Ace is staring behind the black facial distortion, which he's grateful for at the moment.

“I know. Come get me when you're done.” Ace leaves, and Coda doesn't pay any mind as he turns the shower on and lets the hot water wash away his sins, at least the surface level ones that haven't sunk into his flesh yet.

He can get the blood off of his hands.

It doesn't stain the chrome, either.

Coda stands there for a while, letting the warmth encapsulate him entirely, his eyes shut as the water goes from red to a pinkish hue and then clear at last. He’s starting to feel the sting of the hot water in his wounds, though — the adrenaline and automatic hormone injections from his implants are starting to wear off. He doesn't waste time getting out of the shower only to find a fresh, folded up set of clothes. It doesn't take long for him to get dressed and realize that they're far too large for him, meant to fit Ace’s bulkier frame, but he doesn't care much whenever he's standing in Ace’s bedroom again.

Alone, this time.

He takes a moment to scan the room, using the fancy Kiroshi scanners to his advantage. In some stroke of luck he actually finds Ace's wallet sitting on his night stand, picking it up and sifting through it. A couple of credchips, business cards for other fixers, a phone number scrawled out on a lined strip of paper and his ID. There's no picture on it, just a name, and it's too princely to make sense for Ace.

Philip Graves.

He is most certainly not a Philip, let alone a Phil — Ace works just fine.

Coda tosses the wallet back into place and checks his reflection in the mirror before heading out to the kitchen that they'd walked through, finding Ace sat at the island. He has a medkit in front of him, gloved hands already toying with a needle and thread.

“Thanks for the, um, threads.” Coda says softly, pulling at the front of the shirt. It's worn, but he can still make out the words on it “MaxTac?”

“Didn't work for them directly. I was on the corpo side of it, though.” Ace replies, gesturing for Coda to sit, which he does. He looks up at Ace expectantly, watching the other man load up an inhaler with local anaesthetic. Coda takes a few puffs off of it and hums softly, his vision blurring at the edges, enough so that whenever Ace touches the gash on his face it doesn't really hurt. It feels more like a distant ache, something for future Coda to deal with.

“I could've guessed that much, sir.” Coda closes his eyes whenever he feels Ace start to suture the wound shut. He doesn't need to see that.

“How come?”

“You still dress like a corporat.”

“Pardon me for enjoying a collared shirt.”

“I'm just saying, you read like a corpse, not a fixer. I’ll bet that face says the same thing.” Coda is smug about this little comment and Ace can tell, gently tugging on the sutures in retaliation. “What? Am I wrong?”

“You are. Sit still and shut up, would you?”

“I can't. Incapable.” Coda murmurs, getting a firm grasp of his cheeks in reply. He opens his eyes to look at Ace whilst he does this, squeezing Coda’s face gently and making his lips purse. When he speaks it comes out sort of strange, because he's being smushed. “Shorry — I’ll shut up.”

“Good boy.” Ace pats him on the cheek before continuing to suture him up, though Coda doesn't shut his eyes again. He just watches the black emptiness twitch and shudder gently with every little movement Ace makes, every subtle tilt of the head and breath intake. “You’ll need to stay out of your apartment for a while, if you go back at all. All this chrome’ll get you in trouble when they find the scavs you zeroed, so I suggest keeping your head down.”

“I wasn't going psycho when that happened, I want you to know that. I felt in control.” Coda says after a moment, Ace’s hand moving to put the sutures down. He then shifts to clean up any of the excess blood dripping down Coda’s face still. It’ll leave a nasty scar, but at least he's not dead.

“You don't have to justify it to me.”

“I do—”

“I trust you, Coda. If you said you were in control, then I believe you.”

“Just like that?”

“You’ve put a lot of trust in me, haven't you?”

“It's different. You’re a fixer, the one I'm indebted to no less.”

“All the much more of a reason not to trust me and yet…” He gestures to his home, their surroundings. It’s written all over Coda’s face, that easy to manipulate naivete. Ace could easily convince him to drive into the middle of the desert armed with nothing but a pistol to fend off Maelstrom gonks and — oh. He’s already done that. Coda is lucky, really, that Ace took him in. Anyone could abuse his kindness, his genuine unknowingness. “You show up at my doorstep without even asking if that's where I’m telling you to go. Dangerous, Coda.”

“I guess you're right.” The merc replies, tilting his head slightly into Ace's hold. He’s still gently palming Coda’s cheek, and Coda isn't pushing him away so… “I don't know who else I would've called. Thank you for, uh, picking up.”

“Why do you always sound so unsure of yourself?” Ace takes his hand away and stands up, meandering to the refrigerator and opening it to sift around for a drink. He holds a bottle of water out to Coda before getting one for himself, leaning up against the cold metal surface of the appliance. “You kneecap your own sentences. Um and uh and nervous laughter.”

“Maybe because I’m nervous? I mean, I just got shot at in my own home, and now I’m…here — in my boss's house, in his clothes.” Coda pulls gently at the collar of Ace’s shirt, the one he is wearing, mainly because the fixer still doesn't have one on. He’s awfully comfortable for how nervous and slightly shaky Coda feels around every turn of phrase he makes.

Ace desperately wants to comment, to make some sort of bite in response to Coda’s little discomforted eye movements, put those raw feelings on display like the smoldering end of a cigarette in an ashtray. He can feel it in the air, if he pushes a little harder Coda might just bend to his will right then and there, allowing Ace to see all of those little vulnerabilities for what they are and not how they're weak spots. He doesn't, though, perhaps against his best judgement. It would be far too easy to do. A little bit of a chase is part of the fun, isn't it?

“I’m sorry if I make you nervous, wasn't my intention. Just the best course of action to make sure you and I don't get our heads blown off in our sleep yeah?” Ace says as he takes a long drink of water before glancing into the rest of the home. It's a fairly open floor plan, meaning he can see straight through most of it without much in his way. “Do you want the bed or the couch?”

“I have an option?” Coda chuckles slightly. “The couch. I couldn't ask you to give your bed up for me.”

“Alright, you remember where the bedroom is. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.” Ace, of course, takes whatever shred of gentlemanly decency a man of his low morals can muster and heads for the couch. It's a comfortable couch, he bought it after all — besides having a pretty boy in his bed was just fine with him, even if he wasn't also in that same bed. Coda couldn't even protest, the fixer throwing his muscular frame onto the couch with a soft huff of the cushions, a blanket getting pulled over him the instant he can grab one and curl into it.

Without argument, because it would genuinely be one sided, Coda slipped into Ace’s bedroom again. The bed wasn't made, likely his fault for calling Ace in the middle of the night, but that makes it all the much easier to slide beneath the duvet and into its cozy confines. It smells like some overpriced cologne and cigarette smoke, partially of hair product as well.

When his eyes flutter shut he can imagine the gentle fluff of Ace’s short blonde hair, the way it’s just long enough to need to be wrangled out of his face by product.

What colour are his eyes?

The scar tipping his ear, does it come across his cheek, too?

Is his nose a little bit crooked from being broken a time or two?

Are his lips the same blushed shade as his busted knuckles?

Coda falls asleep peacefully, wrapped up in Ace’s clothes and his duvet, wondering how often he washes it, if he separates his whites when he does his laundry and if he uses a dryer or hangs them instead.

When Ace asks him if he would rather go back to his apartment or get a new one he barely recognizes his own voice when he says that he’d rather stay with him, here, in North Oaks. Surprised, but not opposed, the fixer agrees.

“I don't have a guest room.” Ace replies, flicking the ash off of his cigarette as he looks to Coda.

“That's alright. It's a king sized bed isn't it?” Coda asks rhetorically, a brief and smug smile crossing his expression. Bloodied sutures and all, he’s got Ace wrapped right around his little finger, and neither is displeased about that fact.

—

taggies!

@whitewolfmystery @simonrriley also it's wolf's birthday when im posting this happy birthday i love you so much i know i already told you but still 🩷

[the-whispers-of-death]

i spent way too much time thinking about this and jumping trough hoops to make it make sense but hear me out:

cyberpunk!stone having both a badass robot arm AND a badass robot eye. so like. the scar on his eyebrow. what if that ended up hitting the eye instead, and then he had the eye modified... ive been brainstorming this so much its not even funny and i have cyberpunk!stone on the mind so hard now

like idk imagine just waking up in some part of the base youve never been in, and half of your entire face feels *different* and cold and "whatthefuck why can i see heat signatures-" and theres just a very tired and irritated mechanic!reader like "lay back down-! im not done yet! you, mister, are making me do overtime here, dont fight me on this!"

((no this is not an excuse so i can draw cybernetics wdym))

~ rusty

Stone would be totally lowkey terrified if he woke up to having a robotic eye along with his robotic arm. But the sight of you fussing over him, though the sight is slightly new with the addition of him being able to see your heat signature, makes him relax.

He lets you go back to finishing up with implementing his robotic eye, focusing his senses on you. Your steady heartbeat slows his, he follows your lead in breathing slow and deep. He's scared, but you're here and that makes it all better.

Since he's so still now that he's calm, it doesn't take you too long to finish up with what you were doing. And when you move to leave him to get acquainted with his new eye, his burly, human hand reaches for your wrist and a scared whine escapes from his lips.

"Please," he begs, his voice so unusually soft and full of fear. "Please don't leave me. Stay. You're the only thing keeping me calm."

You don't really have much to do besides make sure his new eye is working well, so you stay. You hold his non-robotic hand and feel how tight he's holding onto you. He looks so small in that moment, on your operating table.

You shush him gently when he whimpers again, your fingers carding through his black locks of hair. And in a moment of weakness, you murmur, "It's okay. Daddy's here."

And those words make him drift off to sleep.

[the-whispers-of-death]

saw this earlier, and i knew there was a reason why it stuck to me so much. its cyborg!stone in a nutshell but i dont know how to explain why. it just is.

I don't truly understand, but I'll take your word for it that it fits Cyborg!Stone.

[the-whispers-of-death]

mech pilot!mārīte, randomly coming home after a mission with a prosthetic arm: look! we match! :D

cybernetic!stone, about to have a meltdown: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

anyways. sylvester made it for her :) it has various platings in different colors :) she likes the pink one the most

imagining mārītes about to get the scolding of a lifetime from stone about how she needs to break the contract immediately

~ rusty

I just know Cybernetic!Stone is regretting not making connections enough so that he could get Mārīte out of the contract. He just has to hope that Kali or Heartthrob has those connections.

He totally freaks out about Mecha Pilot!Mārīte coming home with a cybernetic arm, he's so distraught. But at least he can help her with any feelings she may have over not having two fully functioning arms still.

[the-whispers-of-death]

im staring at the drawing again and. the self-insert character straight up looks like sylvester but with a slightly face and haircut. and he would not fucking say that. it'd instead just be "so should you, yknow"

anyways. need to redraw this so hard lol

and. cough. imagining that mārīte does pass all the tests and training and successfully gets to be a mech pilot and signs the papers and so she gets basically shipped off to who-knows-where, and returns a few months later, down a few lives and covered in new, still healing scars. shes huggging sylvester the moment she can and doesnt ever wanna do that ever again :( but a contract is a contract so shes stuck with that job for the next 3 years or so. welp. she asked for this.

shes telling me that she also has a cropped tail here. girlie was forced to remove it surgically so "it doesnt get in the way" :(

~ rusty

Stone, reaching for his gun: I'll kill all of the people who gave her a contract, then no one can make her honor it.

Me: One, that's not how that works and two, you're not supposed to be this violent!

Stone: But she's my daughter.

Me, spraying with him water: Stop.

Anyways, thank you for the angst, Stone's going to go kill some people.

[the-whispers-of-death]

the existence of scientist!sylvester also implies (and outright states) the existence of a regular human sylvester and mārīte. and i dont know if i like that mental image

oh and- earlier! i was going trough the art blog and stumbled upon the cybernetics au,, syl would 100% be a mechanic, while mārīte is groveling at mine and syls feet to be a mecha pilot. and. because i like the angst potential,, im letting her

~ rusty

All I remember about the Cybernetics AU is that Stone looked hot with his cybernetic eye and arm. Which kudos to you for being able to visualize his hotness when drawing him. Love you for that.

Anyways, not the angst potential... Don't hurt my blorbos too much please.

[the-whispers-of-death]

scientist!sylvester is entranced by cybernetic!stone. hes telling me he wants to strap him onto the table and dissect every last detail he can, so he can also understand how the cybernetics work. hes telling me he wants to get rid of his cat leg and replace it with a cyber one, so he can quit using the cane. but. i dont think doing major surgery such as amputation is a good idea... esp when youre the one doing it,,,

hes also staring at stone's eye. he wants to know if it can be replicated so he doesnt need glasses anymore. no he doesnt care laser eye surgery is a thing, he thinks its boring

~ rusty

Cybernetic!Stone is running away from Scientist!Sylvester. (Wow, the first ever Stone to not drool over Sylvester. Miracle.)

[the-whispers-of-death]

mech pilot!mārīte being scared of death when she comes back. cough,, imagining her actually being on her last lives due to making rookie mistakes,,,

imagining she doesnt tell that to anyone tho. well. maybe its on her record but only sylvester can access it due to being a legal guardian (did stone??? ever legally adopt mārīte??? in general??)

maybe sylvester finds out via simple curiosity, or maybe it gets mailed to him as an official notice.

ahem. maybe mārīte one day does just break down. she says she doesnt want to die, and how terrifying it was to wake up in the medbays only to find out she literally died. shes now angry at me for letting her that. but hey, at least the arm's cool lol

~ rusty

Cybernetic!Stone, calling up Kali: Please tell me you the connections to get Mārīte out of her contract of being a mechanic pilot.

Kali: I'll see what I can do.

Don't worry, Auntie Ashok will do it.