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sharpen-your-hatchet · 22 days ago

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Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 13]

Desc: It's been over a year since V left Night City with the Aldecaldos. With Judy by her side, V's come to quite enjoy the "quiet life" that many of her past cohorts talked down upon. She's finished her merc life, and that suits her just fine. Unfortunately, even with 1000 miles between her and Night City - The merc life doesn't seem quite finished with her.

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 42,477

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Or, you can read the chapter below! :

It’s the crack of dawn.

For someone who usually appreciates their beauty sleep, V finds herself particularly restless recently. It’s no wondering why, but all the same, it leaves her with a slight exhaustion that never seems to fade. Even when her mind and heart are racing, there’s a tiredness clawing at her that begs her to rest… But every time she closes her eyes, all she can see is the fake Takemura’s gaunt face, various flashes of her past life, and those final moments before she made Arasaka fall all that time ago.

She feels haunted, but motivated. Unrelenting, but drained.

She couldn’t rest right now if she tried. She wishes she could.

She’s grabbed herself a chair and is sitting across from the Yellowstone river as the sun begins its ascent. Across the water, Grand Prairie is waking up, and she can see the first ebbs and flow of traffic as the late night closers and early morning openers meet like ships in the night. V sips at some coffee and tries her best to think about anything that isn’t the brutal murder of an entire organisation. Now that Alt’s revealed Arasaka’s location, it’s occupying her thoughts even moreso than before. And God, if there isn’t something ironic about those first beams of orange daylight. They bounce from building to building, reflecting off the river, lighting the city up in a scattering of fiery light. It’s gorgeous as any sunrise is, but reminds V only that she cannot wait to see Arasaka go up in flames once more.

It’ll be a damn good day when it happens, and hopefully it isn’t too far away.

But it isn’t here yet. So V sits, and she sips, and she thinks. If only Judy was awake so she could lose herself in Judy’s embrace instead… They never did get to finish after Alt’s message interrupted them. Maybe she could go back now, clamber into bed, press a kiss or two to Judy’s temple to rouse her. If she was feeling ballsy enough, she’d maybe even suggest having some fun by the river before the other Aldecaldos start waking up. It’s not often they’re near water clean enough to even consider something like that, especially since the water truck showers are off limits - wasting that water is a cardinal sin… But maybe if they were just over the curve of the river bank…

V smiles to herself. It won’t happen, but what a wonderful distraction it is to think about. Though, like many distractions, it doesn’t last long. Time marches onwards and the sun crawls into the sky; V finds herself gazing into the city across the river. Grand Prairie seems like a nice place. It’s a sprawling metropolis - almost like Night City, but nice; cleaner, like all the fucked up parts somehow just didn’t happen. V knows - objectively - that it can’t be perfect but from afar, it looks appealing. Perhaps not enough to be a future home but still a cut above their other pitstops.

“It isn’t the open road, but it is pretty nice for a city, isn’t it?” Panam’s voice drifts into V’s ears from behind, cutting through the silence. It’s not a surprise to see her awake at this time. She approaches and sits on the ground, sipping her own coffee as she joins V in watching the bustle across the river, “it almost makes me think living somewhere like here could be bearable.”

What a coincidence.

V smirks softly, “nah Pan, you tried it. Hated it, ‘member?”

“I’m not sure if Night City is a good place to test that theory.”

V nods her head, conceding, “Got a point there… Did’ya find the trade you needed?”

Panam sips her coffee. She points her thumb back towards the camp, “we did and it is all ready to go. Hopefully it should be enough that we can roll through North and South Dakota with just a few driver swaps. We do not want to be stopping there if possible.”

Her tone takes a slightly sharp edge. Worry. She must’ve found something out whilst she was in the city last night. “Thought we’d be preem if we ‘voided the big cities?” V asks.

Panam works her jaw. She sighs slightly and rubs at the crease between her brows. “That was the idea,” she replies with a sigh. “Unfortunately, it would seem even on the outskirts they’re not being friendly to nomads, lately… Which is why-”

“-Those scophead Snake Nation took on a contract to try and find me.”

Well now it all makes sense. No wonder they were desperate to come back for round 2. V would feel bad for them, knowing now that their livelyhoods have likely taken a hit from these circumstances - but frankly, she won’t feel sorry for people who took on a bad contract out of desperation. That’s what she did at the start of her merc career and look where it landed her… Gonks who play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

They talk for a little while longer, about route options and where they can and cannot go. Most of the big cities are strictly not an option, and even the smaller towns aren’t seeming so assuring either - it might be a case of them having to avoid communities all together and rough it a little (even by nomad standards) to avoid any sort of law enforcement or corporate spying eyes. V’s not above shooting them - or anyone, at this rate - but she and Panam decide, ultimately, to just give any settlements a wide berth. They’ve got the storage capacity to make it work… Folks just might have to avoid showers for a couple days.

Certainly worse shit to deal with.

By the time they’ve hashed out their thoughts, the sun has climbed into the sky, and the other Aldecaldos are starting to make themselves known. They don’t disturb V or Panam, but it’s hard to miss the bustle of noise that grows and grows. Panam will have to head into the fray soon and make sure everyone’s on board with the plan. For now at least, they’ve got a little more time.

“So,” Panam continues as she finishes the last of her drink. “Is there any news from Alt? She has been rather quiet the last few days.”

It strikes V suddenly that she should’ve maybe told Panam about Alt’s messages before they started making plans. She stares at Panam dumbly for a second as the realisation dawns on her. There is a reason she’s never taken on much of a leadership position herself, and this is exactly it. V sighs at herself, “Shit, should’a said…”

V takes the burner from her pocket and hands it over to Panam. She frowns for a second as she takes the device, reading the brief conversation between V and Alt from the night before, but then - unexpectedly - her face lights up.

“Atlanta?” She asks.

“Yeah…There a problem?”

Panam’s expression twists into amused disapproval, “Well you did just waste my time but… Going to Atlanta makes everything a lot easier, actually.”

Well that’s a fuckin’ relief.

V takes the phone back. She feels a little bit of an idiot, but at least it’s worked out. In any case, it’s not exactly the dumbest thing she’s done in the last two days (objectively of course, subjectively speaking her decision making skills are perfectly rational and not to be questioned). “You ever been?”

Panam lets out a short laugh, “V, there are not many places I haven’t been.” She takes a look back towards the camp, noting the ever growing activity from the other nomads as the day truly starts to begin. It won’t be long before they start to pack, and if they start to pack then they need to know what’s up. She shoots V an apologetic look, adding “We can talk more about it later, okay? But Arasaka being in Atlanta is not an issue.” She stands then, patting V on the shoulder before turning back towards the camp.

V watches her leave, noticing that Judy has just emerged from their tent as Panam walks past. The two cross paths and share a greeting and a smile. Panam says something that makes Judy roll her eyes with a smile and shake of her head, before she looks over to V and Judy’s eyes follow. She smiles again as she spots V, before politely leaving Panam to her duties. It’s a nice interaction to watch; makes V’s heart feel warm in her chest. For all the shit they’re currently handling, there’s something nice seeing the humanity in it all - her loved ones interacting and working together. In times like this, home isn’t a place, but a people.

Judy catches V staring, and her smirk grows as she walks on over. “Enjoyin’ the view?”

“You know it.”

Judy pads over and sits haphazardly in V’s lap. It takes a bit of shifting and a few giggles as they get comfortable, but Judy is quickly cuddled into V’s shoulder as they allow themselves a little bit of time before reality must be faced, and they need to go help the others. Judy does grumble a bit over V’s lack of sleep, but their conversation mostly follows the same suit as the prior with Panam. Although, as Judy does, she gets a little bit more into the grit of it all - the stuff Panam isn’t so good with.

“How you feelin’ about it all, V?” She asks after a natural lull comes to their conversation.

V thinks on it for a moment. In a grander sense, she’s not too sure. She knows how she feels about the end goal - that low rumbling righteous fury that keeps her focused on turning Arasaka to dust - and she knows how she feels about Judy and their extended family in the Aldecaldos, which is undeniably more wholesome (or perhaps less so in Judy’s case, but that’s not the point). Everything else? She just tries not to think about it. She still does, of course; everything she thinks and feels haunts her every time she closes her eyes… But it’s easier to just let it ruminate and not acknowledge it too much aloud, despite how much it’s stolen away her ability to rest.

“Fine,” she says eventually.

“Oh no, amor,” Judy says with a warning on her tongue. “We haven’t come this far for you to glitch up on me now.”

V quietly glowers. Judy’s right, but she hates it. It’s so much easier to just be angry or happy and not speak about the inbetween… and God knows she’s felt the inbetween lately. But it’s Judy. Her Judy. This woman has bared her soul more times than she can count, and followed her into the fire without a second thought. The least V can do is let her into her head for just a moment… But it just doesn’t feel feasible right now. They’re on the precipice of something life changing, and V just doesn’t know how she can explain just how much everything is tied together in her head; how actions and consequences have laid out this path right to this moment, and that not succeeding isn’t an option. How does she speak on that? She can’t. Not now. To utter it is to make it real.

And the only thing she wants real right now is her motivation to keep moving.

Anger. Love. Justice.

Why does this shit have to be so fuckin’ hard.

“Jus’ tryn’a avoid my feelin’s right now, Jude,” V admits.

Judy sits up slightly to look V in the eye. Her expression grows sympathetic, and she nods. She doesn’t look particularly happy at the admission but seems understanding all the same.

V continues, “feels like if I think too much-”

“-You’ll go cyberpsycho?”

V finds a slight smile tugging on her lips. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that… Jus’ wanna get through this.”

“I get it, but you can’t bury it forever.”

V leans in and kisses Judy’s cheek. “I know, ‘n’ I won’t. Please don’t worry ‘bout me, okay?”

Judy returns the kiss, on the mouth this time. It’s a warm, sweet moment, their foreheads briefly touching, and before they part Judy mumbles softly, “I always worry ‘bout you V, but I know we’ve got this.”

V offers a small smile. She’s glad to have Judy; lucky, even. She knows there’s a big conversation to be had, about many different things. This whole journey and what they’re heading towards has been planned to death, but the emotions behind it… There’s a lot to be said. Some things are obvious, others not so much. V’s certain she’s not really going to enjoy any of it…In fact, it will - more than likely - be like pulling teeth.

But against V’s best wishes, she knows that it’s important. She won’t acknowledge it aloud, but she knows that Judy knows, and that’s what matters. For V, sometimes the deeper conversations are like pulling blood from a stone, but… Maybe that’s just the point. You do it anyway for the people you love.

Fuck when’d I turn into such a sap!?

V glances back to the Aldecaldos. They’re still milling around and enjoying their morning. Panam seems to have vaguely gathered them within the center area of the camp site, but it’s nothing too organised just yet - nothing that screams for them to come over. So they don’t. She and Judy sit, cuddled up, watching Grand Prairie and the flow of the river. It’s peaceful, even knowing the beginning of the end starts soon.

Perhaps it is simply the calm before the storm, but V feels confident. She’s not sure what it is but something just feels right, despite her exhaustion and everything else. They’ve got a location, they’ve got a plan (if a rough one), and more importantly, they have eachother. These next couple days will bring the details - entrances, exits, weak points. They’ll choose their weapons, and before they know it, it’ll be time to storm Arasaka once more.

Then she’ll be free of all the ghosts that lurk behind her eyes.

And honestly, nothing sounds sweeter.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 1 month ago

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Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 12]

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 40,112

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

Or, you can read the chapter below! :

Travelling - as it turns out - is by far the smartest move they’ve could’ve made.

It’s been two days. Not a long time by any means, but long enough for a very sobering reality to take hold. It’s been tense - exhaustingly so. Hours and hours of driving, trying to keep up the ruse of normality, whilst all knowing what eventually awaits beyond that long horizon.

V, Judy, and the Aldecaldos have remained relatively fine, but that’s not without a few hiccups at first: the first couple county and state border crossings feeling just a little too long; some allies asking a few too many questions. It’s hard to say what’s suspicion and what’s just general caution but it’s all felt a little too coincidental. There’s been no major news regarding Arasaka or V’s actions at the apartment building (seeing as murder is an everyday reality), but without a doubt, there are whisperings in the networks, and they’re pulsing from Seattle like a wave.

Fortunately, as the miles drag on and the distance from Washington state grows, it starts to feel a little less insane. The Aldelcados work their contacts, and they know the roads like it’s the blood in their veins, and whilst it feels dicey, it never feels unsafe.

And safety is the key right now.

But it does feel like something is dawning; like whatever they are riding towards is something definitive. Whether that’s for them all or just V herself, V can’t really tell. All she knows is her trigger finger is itchy and she’s ready for anything. She sits, tucked into the back of one of the truck cabs, eye sharp on the road ahead. Everyone’s on the lookout but her especially. She and Judy told Panam immediately about the Arasaka agents, and though it felt right at the time, it now just feels like they added extra tension where it didn’t need to be…. But would lying be any better?

V’s not so sure. All she knows is it’s made them all keep their heads on a swivel. She sort of wishes this wasn’t the reality, but she also knows Panam and the Aldecaldos are her family - they made this choice for her, and they will continue to do so over and over. Hopefully they won’t come to regret that.

V drags herself from her musing. She’s had a lot of time to be in her own head the last few days, and it’s doing her no good at all. She hates having too much time to think. Unfortunately, there’s not really a whole lot else to do when you’re trapped in a truck for hours on end with nothing but the road ahead. So between the occasional radio station they can barely tune into, V’s been stuck with either musing over bloodshed, musing over her friends and loved ones, or musing over just how the fuck they got here again… Suffice to say, it’s not been particularly thrilling. These thoughts don’t plague her during their pitstops when she gets to see Judy, or Panam, or hell even someone like Mitch. It’s the silence that does it.

Now, she could speak to whoever’s driving her; break the silence herself. V’s not exactly shy about new people, after all, and her current driver - Ellie - seems nice enough…But whenever she looks at them, V’s suddenly not in the mood for chatting beyond updates of their location. She’s pretty sure they can sense it too. Oh well, it’s probably not the best time for making new friends, anyway. V pulls the burner phone out of her pocket. She unlocks the screen, hoping there’ll be something there so she can focus on something - anything - else.

She is quickly disappointed.

Ugh, gettin’ fuckin’ tired of waitin’

It’s been 18 hours since she last heard from Alt. She’s been especially quiet, providing less of the same menial updates, or informing V about her progress… There’s nothing concrete; nothing solid. It’s annoying as shit. What is intriguing, though, is that when Alt has texted recently, she sounds almost frustrated at times? Like she is annoyed at the difficulty of her task. Quite obviously she does not like this new “Arasaka programming language”. V doesn’t understand much of it, but Carol lets on that it’s basically like a human trying to brute force their way into speaking Spanish with no cyberware after speaking English their whole lives. The frustration is understandable in that case, but it’s intriguing that Alt seems to think herself above human emotion. She’s so clearly displeased but seems so adamant there is nothing human left of her... Alas, it’s another thing V’s probably best off not thinking about. All she needs from Alt is information, and once that information is hers, Alt’s served her purpose. V just wishes she’d hurry the fuck up.

V tucks the phone back into her pocket. She stretches, and sighs, sliding down the seat to a more comfortable position. There’s a few minutes of silence until the radio mercifully picks up a signal and lets out a gentle lul of country music. It’s dull but better than nothing. “Long until we get to our stop?” She asks.

Ellie’s hands flex on the wheel. She smiles, replying, “Maybe 15 minutes. We’ve made good time.”

“Sidney, right? That where we’re stoppin’?”

Ellie shakes her head, “Grand Prairie, but we will set up camp north of the Yellowstone river. Sidney is our back up in case there’s too much corpo heat.”

V nods. Grand Prairie is a good place to stop - relatively peaceful, good options to trading goods if they need. With two days of travel under their belts, it’s about time they stop and grab a few supplies, before they enter North Dakota. It’s far less friendly there, especially for Nomads. Mind you, V wouldn’t mind that… A few bodies to drop wouldn’t do any harm.

She and Ellie fall back into silence.

Not much time later, they come upon the small clearing where a few other trucks have already arrived. It’s rather pretty, with the river and town expanding out to the south. They definitely chose the right place to make a pit stop - it actually feels relatively normal and calm here. V spots Panam’s truck sitting at the front, engine running but unmoving. The other nomad trucks sit idle also with not a single soul having moved from their seats. It’s unusual. Typically they arrive, and the second they pull to a stop, there’s a whole gaggle of people pulling together a camp. For some reason, that’s not happening.

V cranes her neck upwards to peer around the small sea of vehicles. “Mitch just sent out a message. There are some other nomads holding us up,” Ellie informs.

Another nomad crew? That’s odd. Nomads aren’t always keen to run the same routes, especially around these parts. V’s danger senses start to tick. “Another Aldecaldo branch?”

“No…” Ellie sighs. “They’re claiming they are Snake Nation.”

“So, could be anyone?”

Ellie slumps back against her seat, “Exactly. Snake Nation allows just about anyone to join their ranks, as long as they’re nomads.”

V’s bored of this already. Her ass is numb and she hates waiting around. Ellie protests, but V opens the truck door and clambers out. The other Aldecaldos stare at her as she snakes between the various trucks but V’s far beyond the point of caring about looks and glances. She needs to know what’s going on. V paces quickly to the front of the pack, only to find Panam stood alone, talking - arguing more like it - with a man clad in Snake Nation leather.

V leans against Panam’s truck just out of sight. She’s not planning to interrupt… Yet.

“-And as I have already told you, we are making a run to Chicago. I don’t know a single thing about whoever you are talking about,” Panam’s voice is heated, her tone flaring in that stubborn way it does when she’s clearly not being listened to.

“Listen here girly,” comes the gruff, arrogant voice of the other nomad. “There is no way in Hell you don’t have any information.”

“Who do you think I am?!”

“Someone who is pretty good friends with a person of interest that our client would love some information on.”

Oh fuckin’ Christ. Seriously?!

Well now it’s personal. It’s not enough for Arasaka to directly send agents, they’re now pressing the other nations to turn on the Aldecaldos? That’s some low fucking blow. V’s blood boils, hearing the Snake Nation member refer to them as “clients”. They’re not clients, they’re parasites. What could Arasaka have possibly offered them to make them do this? It’s bullshit.

V’s hand rests on her gun. She should do something - there’s no way this guy can be trusted. She goes to take a step out into the open, but a message pops up on her holo that gives her impulsivity a slap.

[Mitch: V I can see you. Do not go out there.]

V glares at the message, eyes then darting to the trucks around her. She can’t see Mitch, but he can certainly see her. He’s right. She hates that he’s right. It would be so much easier to just pop a bullet in that Snake Nation guys head…

Alas, Panam’s got her own plans. “Good friends? I have not seen that traitor since they ran off after my clan gave blood, sweat, and tears to help them survive,” She grits out.

Now that’s one hell of a bold lie.

V peers through the windows of the truck. The Snake Nation member sucks on his teeth, his expression frustrated. He cocks his head back towards the smaller gaggle of trucks behind him. “Are you trying to tell me that my guys received false information?”

The rumble of engines grows as more and more Aldecaldo vehicles pull up to the clearing. There’s a distinct crowd of them now, way outnumbering the pitiful group of Snake Nation that have caused this blockade. Panam turns back, watching the sea of Aldecaldos staring back at her with questioning looks. “I cannot tell you what information you received… But you can tell my family why they’re being held up, if you would like?” Her tone is pointed now, and seems to catch the Snake Nation member off guard.

He looks over to the Aldecaldos, expression faltering slightly. He takes a step back. For a moment it looks like he considers holding strong, but he throws his hands up with a huff and walks back to his truck without another word. Panam watches him, arms crossed. In a symphony of engine rumble, the Snake Nation posse file out of the area, quickly speeding off towards the north. There’s some tree cover so it’s hard to see them disappear, but the noise of their engine slowly fades beneath the grumble of the Aldecaldo’s own trucks. Then, and only then, does Panam give the signal for everyone to make a move.

As she walks back to her own vehicle, Panam spots V. She looks exasperated, but still offers V a nod - A silent acknowledgement of their creed to have eachother’s backs. V’s nods back, quietly grateful, but can only hope this doesn’t come back to bite them in the ass later. The stakes are already high as it is…

But for now, they’ve got their camp site and it’s time to unpack.

X-x-x-x-x-x

Hours have passed.

The camp has long since been set up; food has been cooked, songs have been sung, and a surprising merry sentiment has settled amongst the camp considering the prior tension.

V and Judy are in their tent. They’re taking a break following a brief meeting with Panam to discuss where they’re headed after this stop, and how to deal with further potential issues regarding other clans. Potential trouble with police they expected; Arasaka and other corporations too… But other clans specifically (especially this far out of Washington) is a bit of a surprise.

Panam doesn’t seem all too stressed over it, all things considered. Frustrated, yes - but certainly not ready to lose sleep over it. Whilst previous Aldecaldo leadership tried to ally with any source of income possible and tried to prevent rocking the boat, Panam’s more about being amicable and telling them to kick rocks when things turn to shit. It makes them more independent that way, and right now, that’s for the better. If the other clans don’t have their back then they’ll make their own way.

It makes V’s conscience less loaded, that’s for certain.

And for now it’s peaceful so there’s a moment for rest.

She curls up around Judy’s form, humming softly into the homely scent of her shirt. Judy reaches back and tucks her hand around V’s thigh. “Been a long day, hm? I thought that drive would never end.”

“Always a long day if I can’t shoot somethin’ or see your face, Jude.”

Judy laughs softly. “That’s your priority, amor ?! Shootin’ then me?!”

V snakes her hands around Judy’s stomach and pulls her closer. She presses a kiss to Judy’s neck, just above the hem of her shirt, as she then lowers her voice to something breathy and warm. “‘Course,” she replies. “I’ll always be focusin’ on you but gotta make sure it’s safe first.”

Another laugh. For all the deep seated anger that runs through V’s veins that has kept her motivated the last few days, it becomes almost easy to ignore in moments like this. The sound of Judy’s laugh feels like sunshine against storm clouds. “Well when you put it like that…” Judy hums in response. She pulls free of V’s grasp so she can turn over. “Guess we better get this done quick so you never have to look away.”

“Oh I’ll make sure to murder e’rybody real quick, don’t you worry.”

A third laugh, then a kiss, soft and slow. “You really know how to woo a woman, Valerie.”

They kiss again, mouths melding together, warm and sweet and yearning. Something about the last two days has ignited a fire between she and Judy, and it makes every look, every touch; every embrace feel like a guiding light that drags V back to her senses after a day of mind-numbing oblivion. Without Judy, V’s unsure whether she’d find herself each night after a whole day of staring off into the distance and daydreaming of the awful, terrible things that will take place once she steps foot in Arasaka’s base of operations. She finds it’s hard to crave violence when the other thing she craves most is right in front of her.

And crave she does.

Judy’s hand is clutching at V’s shirt, pulling her closer. Lips meet, kiss, trail down jaws and nip gently at soft skin. There’s intense gazes and gentle smiles; amorous looks that tell a thousand different words.

You’re mine.

I will protect you.

I love you.

It all feels a bit dramatic but… It is dramatic. Their lives are on the line here. V wants Judy to know every step of this march towards Hell that nothing will ever come between them. Sometimes the words are hard, but there’s always actions. There’s always this - what they’re doing right now.

After a moment Judy pulls back. Her eyes have grown dark and she’s looking at V in a way that says they’ll be getting some eyerolls from the other Aldecaldos come morning. She brings a hand to cup V’s jaw. “Hey, mind grabbin’ me some water ‘fore we keep going?”

Her smile is sweet; coy. It’s a cheeky request, but V can find the humour in it, despite the ache between her legs that has grown since they laid in bed together. “Damn,” she says with a smirk. “Makin’ me work for it?” Judy simply offers her a teasing look. V’s not one to argue right now so she concedes, pressing a kiss to Judy’s cheek before clambering out of their shared cot. She grabs a water canteen from their bags, and trails out into the campsite. It’s dusk now, and across the river Grand Prairie begins to light up as the day disappears beyond the horizon. A few of the Aldecaldos have made the journey into the city. Panam’s gone with them, hoping to trade goods and information. Though the corp influence is a lot lower here, V and Judy have decidedly stayed behind - it’s just safer that way. V doesn’t mind, especially in moments like these. She does somewhat miss the buzz of the city, especially after just getting used to it again back in Seattle, but they can’t risk anything right now. Besides, with her itchy trigger finger, no doubt she’d end up putting a bullet in someone’s head just for looking at her the wrong way. That’s heat they can’t afford.

The only heat V wants right now is the warmth of Judy’s touch.

V keeps her eyes on the neon glow as she quickly ambles over to the water truck. It’s tucked away from most of the other parts of the camp - owing to the fact this truck also feeds the showers, and a little bit of privacy means a lot in times like this. She approaches the water spout, fidgeting slightly with the tap until it finally relents. Water pours into the canteen.

“Don’t move another fucking muscle.” A gruff voice emanates from the shower side of the water truck.

You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’

V reaches for her pistol, her hand pulling into a fist when it clasps at empty space. Shit. It’s back in the tent. A man - the same Snake Nation idiot from earlier - rounds the corner of the truck armed with a knife. He cocks his head towards the layer of trees that serve as a boundary for the camp area. “I knew Panam was lying,” He says with a cocky smile. “Into the trees. Now.”

V does not have time for this. “So you can fuckin’ kidnap me? Not happenin’.”

He points the blade towards V’s throat. Now, if this had happened maybe a week or so ago, V might’ve been a little intimidated… But it’s not a week ago, and V is no longer in the business of humouring such gonk behaviour. This is perhaps one of the dumbest things she’s witnessed in the last few months, and she’s the one who got tricked by an Arasaka AI. She stares him down, expression unfaltering.

He goes to jam the knife further and V simply steps back. If this was an attempt to be scary it is failing miserably. She smirks at his weak attempt and apparently, this was not the reaction he wanted, because he then lunges forward, arm whipping backwards to swing the knife in V’s direction. It’s almost funny how poor this kidnapping attempt is - this guy has no idea who he’s dealing with. Hell, V bets his “client” didn’t tell him a damn thing, and Snake Nation is nowhere near organised enough to give him a heads up. V doesn’t even try to be tactical about it. She grabs the knife blade mid air, hissing only a little bit as metal gashes into her hand. It hurts but the blade is barely sharp and the hand isn’t organic to begin with so the damage is of little consequence.

The Snake Nation nomad looks at her like she’s crazy. In fact, he seems stunned. V twists the knife out of his hands and chucks it aside. She makes a quick scan of the treeline and spots a number of life signs lurking in the greenery… But no sign of guns, oddly enough. An odd choice. A stupid one.

“Dunno what kind of gonk fuckin’ plan you made, but you made two very big mistakes,” V says flatly.

The man continues to look at her silently.

“A, you brought a knife to a me fight,” V continues, as she looks down at her hand and gently pinches together the realskinn that’s flayed around the wound. “B, you clearly jumped at the opportunity for some quick eddies without realisin’ who you’re fuckin’ with.”

He remains silent.

V lowers her voice, “ Do you know who you’re fuckin’ with?”

There’s again, no response. He’s no kidnapper - he’s just an idiot with an ego. A shame not all nomads can be well trained or intelligent like The Aldecaldos are. V steps back towards him. Her hand comes to his throat faster than he can respond, and she begins to squeeze on his windpipe just enough that he starts to gasp. His hands try to pull her off, but there’s no stopping a mechanical hand once it’s got a grip. V feels a sadistic little smile pull onto her lips. She just can’t help herself. “I’m the merc who took down Arasaka in NC,” She says with an intentional slowness. “So if you wanna keep tryin’ that’s on you, but your group of leadheads ain’t gonna win.”

A fear grows in the man’s eyes. It seems to finally dawn on him that he’s been sent on a suicide mission. “You’re the crazy bitch who did that?!” He chokes out. He begins scrambling to get away.

Crazy? No. V knows what crazy is. She’s not crazy. She’s just some motherfucker who was done with the shit; who did what she had to… And now she’s in the exact same position again. She won’t let anyone get in the way of her life. “‘Course, why else would your client want me so bad?”

“Fuck I didn’t know, I swear.”

V cocks her head to the side. “So you gonna leave the Aldecaldos alone?”

His face is starting to lose colour now. He nods, growing more and more desperate for breath.

“Preem.” V pushes him to the ground. With a splutter of breath, he quickly gathers himself and scuttles away into the trees. V watches him run. He’s lucky to just be a clueless gonk. Had V felt any actual threat, she wouldn’t have thought twice over lodging his own knife between his shoulder blades. Alas, her hatred is better directed at the root cause and not the idiots they try to hire… But maybe if they show up a third time, she won’t be so forgiving. Fortunately, the whole encounter is over in less than a couple minutes. It’s a small blip if anything - nothing that makes V overly concerned. In fact, all she’s left with is a slightly elevated heart rate and a mild disappointment that it couldn’t have been a little more exciting.

V turns her attention back to the canteen she had dropped to the floor. The water faucet is still dripping onto the ground.

Shit. What a waste.

She picks it up and quickly refills the container. Hopefully with it being dark, no one will catch the wastage. She glances back over to the treeline and is glad to see the life signs trailing away one by one. It would’ve been more fun to tear through them but it’s perhaps for the best she doesn’t need to explain why there’s a stack of bodies on the perimeter of their campsite.

V takes a second to breathe then makes her way back to the main area of the camp. Of the remaining Aldecaldos who are still there, none of them seem aware of the altercation, and are quite merrily sharing a drink and song around the campfire. V offers them a wave as she passes, acting none the wiser. She was just grabbing a drink of water and nothing more. No need to make any sort of fuss.

“Hey, sorry it took a minute,” V offers immediately as she enters her and Judy’s tent. She holds her wounded hand up as she hands over the canteen, “Never knew water trucks could attack like that.”

“Shit babe, what happened?” Judy coos. She immediately tugs V back into bed, holding the damaged hand up to her face to take a closer look. Fortunately by this point the realskinn has begun to fuse back together so it doesn’t look so jarring - and certainly no longer looks like a blade ran through it.

“Faucet was stuck. I fixed it.”

Judy raises a brow, laughing slightly as she does, “Maintenance is not your forté, calabacita.”She places a gentle kiss just below the damaged realskinn, before she takes the water canteen and takes a grateful drink. Once she’s had her fill she uses her grip on V’s arm to pull her closer, back into her gentle embrace. V hums, letting herself be led, pressing a kiss to Judy’s wetted lips.

“Let’s take your mind off it, hm?” Judy purrs against V’s mouth. Little does she know the extended meaning, but V’s not about to explain when Judy closes the gap again, capturing V’s lips eagerly as her hand snakes to V’s jaw. V’s lost in it instantly, stray thoughts of the altercation lost to a buzz of pleasure and bliss. Maybe one day she’ll tell Judy, but for now she just wants to get back to enjoying what little privacy they can afford. And of course, Judy herself is nothing but happy to get back to business. They kiss with intensity, as their hands begin to wander over and under clothing. Judy pulls V closer and closer still, until she hooks her leg over and straddles either side of V’s hips. That’s when her hands come to either side of V’s neck. Commanding yet gentle, Judy leads the kiss deeper, with a gentle bite of V’s lower lip giving way to her tongue lapping at the inside of V’s mouth.

By now, Judy’s grinding against V’s core. Being clothed, it achieves little, but it’s mesmerising and intoxicating to watch all the same. V can’t believe Judy is hers - that she gets the pleasure of getting to watch, and love, and protect someone like her. V would storm Arasaka 10 times over. It’s not an active thought of hers right now, but it passes through her mind as Judy’s hands grow ever more teasing.

It is a shame that fate just loves to fuck with them. Judy is tugging at the hem of V’s shirt, and V is more than happy to oblige. The article is removed and the cool air tingles against her exposed skin, not helped by the contrast of Judy’s warm hands against her stomach. But just as Judy leans back in, an unfortunately familiar jingle emanates from V’s pocket.

The custom message tone for Alt’s communications.

The one thing that - under their specific circumstances - V cannot ignore… But it’s not just one message. It’s two, then three; four in quick succession. Each pinging through with their own pointed noise.

They both freeze, chests heaving. Judy mumbles a curse. This is perhaps the worst possible timing but despite the frustration being palpable, V has to look; needs to look, even. One hand cups Judy’s cheek in an apologetic gesture as the other reaches for the phone in her pocket. With 24 hours of no news, this better be pretty fucking important.

V drags her eyes down to the screen.

She spots the preview of the first message. Her heart practically stops in her chest.

[Alt: I have located Arasaka.]

Oh shit.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 2 months ago

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Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 11]

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 35,566

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11

Or, you can read the chapter below! :

The following day and with a few hours of sleep under their belts, tensions have lowered and what was a plan born from rage and revenge, becomes a righteous new path for self liberation. V’s still furious at their circumstances, but it’s controllable now; directed and focused. The time for action can’t come soon enough. Fortunately, it seems everyone else has come to the same conclusion - they need to be on the move, and fast. They have to be ready to strike, and It’s safer if they’re travelling; safer to be together, never staying in one place, armed up to the teeth. It’s not about running from Arasaka, but being in motion so that they can position themselves at a moment’s notice.

Unfortunately, they still have to wait on a direction from Alt. A state, a city, anything to point them towards Arasaka’s trail. Alt’s responses to V’s texts state she is filtering through many layers of security within “Takemura’s” code, written (she says) in a new kind of language she is still decoding. V’s not sure exactly what the process is, but she figures it must be careful work. If she is trying to avoid detection whilst reverse engineering code to figure out its origin point, there’s no telling how long it could be. Alt suggests, at the very least, they should head eastwards - As far from Night City as can be. V’s heard news over the last 14 months of Arasaka’s crumbling stability since her assault on the HQ, so it doesn’t take a genius to guess that they would’ve set up their experiment somewhere many many miles away for the sake of safety. Granted, it was not V who came to this conclusion - that credit belongs to Carol.

So, it’s time to be on the move, as nomads do. Whilst not technically business as usual, it is at least useful that from the outside, the Aldecaldos can appear to be travelling their typical work routes. V in particular will just need to be mindful through certain checkpoints, lest anyone is willing to make a quick ebuck for scouting her whereabouts

But that’s a worry for another day.

With the early morning sun beginning to drift higher into the sky, and time running out on “Takemura’s” deal, it is clear Panam is eager to get the Aldecaldos away from Seattle sooner rather than later. Whether an Arasaka strike squad is honing in on them or not - the sooner they’re gone, the better.

V finds her in the middle of the camp, directing her clan with a practised efficiency. Everyone knows their place, what they’re packing and at the pace they’re working, it’ll be less than an hour before they’re ready to hit the road. Despite having previously spent many months travelling with the Aldecaldos, it’s still quite the sight to witness.

There is just one problem.

V saunters over, her and Judy’s bag of used clothing in one hand, Judy’s motorcycle helmet in the other. “Ready to delta?” She asks cooly.

Panam nods as she scans the area, “We should be ready to leave for Boise soon. We’ll make our first pit stop in the surrounding forests.”

“Preem.” V replies. “You decided on where we wanna end up?”

Panam takes a second to pass her duty over to Mitch. She then ushers V over to a table, showing an old tattered map of the whole country. It’s been marked, torn, repaired, and endlessly scribbled on during its existence, but it’s real and tangible - something a plan can form from. V respects that. “Over here-” Panam says, tapping a few states making up the NUSA midwest, “-would be suitable locations, but dangerous to travel around in… Too much corp influence, not to mention the toxic air and acid rain.”

“Mm, bet they don’t put that on their postcards.”

Panam makes a short amused noise. After all the high tension of the last few days, it feels good to make a joke.

She points to the map again, slightly to the left of her last indication, “But here, Iowa. There is a place called Silo. Highly combative with the corps, with indie farmers and traders. It’s a little more central but it is safe. We can rotate around there for at least a couple of weeks.”

“Trust ya’ judgement, Pan”

Panam leans back from the map, hands on her hips as her eyes dart over the map again. Her glance dances from each pinpoint on the map, quietly assessing; judging if it’s a good plan after all… But, if she has doubts, she doesn’t verbalise it. Panam instead looks over to V after a moment, glancing then to the bag in V’s hand. “Are you going somewhere?” She asks, with a furrow of her brow.

Right. Time to fuck the plan up.

“Jude and I gotta head back to our apartment.”

Panam hits V with a look that could kill.

“We gotta grab our shit,” V reasons. They didn’t exactly plan to be staying with the nomads for more than a few nights so what they have packed isn’t going to last them another day or two, let alone potentially weeks, “And Judy needs her BD gear, ‘n’ I wanna grab a fresh burner ‘n’ stash the old one there. Don’t think that’s a ‘specially gonk plan.”

Panam thinks it over. She stares V down, arms crossed. She doesn’t look particularly happy about it, but with a sigh, she raises her hands in defeat. “How long, V?”

“Longer than an hour…Apartment’s on the other side of Seattle…”

Panam massages her temples. “Fuck, V. Fine. Just go, okay? Quickly.”

V makes a quick thank you, and turns on her heel to get moving. Last thing she needs is to look less than eager - but before she can walk off, Panam grabs her arm. “Don’t do anything gonk. In and out.”

“In ‘n’ out.” V repeats, nodding in agreement.

X-x-x-x-x-x

A 25 minute drive later, V and Judy are beelining to their apartment door. On the drive, they’d made a plan - what they can pack, who’s grabbing what items, and how much time it’ll take. V reckons they can do it in under 15 minutes, so long as everything she keeps for emergencies is where she remembers. Judy’s handling their clothes and the tech, so V just needs to grab a few important data shards, grab the new burner, shoot Alt a message about the new phone detes, and then destroy the old one. Easy.

In. Grab our shit. Delta. No sweat.

With a quick ID scan, the door swings open. Judy scuttles away into their bedroom to start packing. Wasting time isn’t an option, so she’s in full swing straight away. V follows suit, quickly pacing into the bathroom.

It feels slightly odd, knowing this home-that-isn’t-home won’t be theirs any longer. Truly, it was never intended to be a long term solution, but it’s a comfortable place, and it’s served them well… As V skims her hands along the bathroom’s tiled walls, she thinks maybe she just loves what this place represents - her and Judy’s step towards freedom and their own life together. A fresh city and a fresh dream.

How ironic it is that they have to run from it…

V’s fingers brush until they feel a tile with a slight give. She presses harder, feeling a distinct thunk , then a whoosh as a section of the wall spring opens to reveal a small safe. V taps in a security code and swipes all the possessions inside - Some data backups of Judy’s work, bio data (both real and fake) to help them weasel through any checkpoints or police force they come up against, etc. It’s the kind of thing V hid away under the presumption it would likely not be needed again, and she’s disappointed to be wrong. Still, better to have it than not. There’s also that extra burner phone V was after and her emergency pistol, so she grabs both of those too.

V pulls up the new burner phone’s detes, and passes along a copy of the new contact info to Alt. As she goes back to the inbox on the old phone, she catches a new message from “Takemura”. Her stomach sinks at the sight.

[Takemura: You have failed to make a decision. An unwise choice.]

V goes to open the full message thread, but decides against it. There’s no time. Even so, just the sight of a single message makes her anger flare up something fierce. It sickens her; downright lights a fire right in the depths of her gut. She hates him, whoever he truly is. The old burner promptly ends up smashed by a violent throw into the bathroom mirror. The shatter of glass echoes through the apartment. A second later, Judy comes sprinting in with a wide eyed look. “The fuck, V?!”

V stares at the phone, now a pile of pieces in the sink. Then she looks into the mirror, her own reflection warped by the now splintered glass. She feels bad, distorted like her reflection, but only for a moment. This anger is more than justified, she tells herself. “Destroyed the burner,” she explains as she pushes the safe wall back into its original position, before stepping over to the sink and turning on the faucet to let water wash over the exposed electronics. “Nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

Judy gives an uneasy look but holds off on questioning further. She steps back out of the bathroom, voice drifting back towards the bedroom as she explains she should be good to go in a few more minutes. It’s good news; means they’re ahead of schedule. Panam will be pleased to have them back sooner.

V takes the shards she grabbed and brings them into the kitchen area. She grabs a small backpack and packs them in, alongside a few personal items - A few photos that were pinned to the fridge, Judy’s favourite coffee cup, V’s custom Aldecaldos zippo lighter, amongst a few others - nothing truly important, but reminders of what home is, when you don’t really have home anymore.

V then heads out onto the balcony to take one last look over Seattle. After all, it may have not been their “forever”, but Seattle has been good to them. It’s offered them opportunities, and a place to just be.

Unfortunately, that’s when V spots it. A peculiar black van, parked in the corner of the apartment building lot. It wasn’t there when they arrived, and it certainly sticks out amongst the high-end sports cars that hold the preference of this block’s inhabitants. V stares at it, a sinking feeling taking ahold of her lungs.

No fuckin’ way…

Her fears are confirmed the second the doors open, and there’s a flash of Arasaka branding. Three agents exit the vehicle; each with their head on a swivel, and hands poised on their guns. The sight of them makes V’s blood boil.

They head directly to the front lobby of the apartment block.

“Shit shit shit!” V curses, ducking down and scrambling back into the apartment. She heads back to the kitchen, calling for Judy as she grabs the bag she left on the counter and quickly slings it onto her back. V shakes her head as she tries to fight off her body’s fight or flight, but it’s impossible to deny nature, even with cyberware. Her heart is pounding now; white noise screeching in her ears. She’s enraged by the fact they’re here. They shouldn’t be - “Takemura’s” time limit barely ran out… But is it really all that surprising?

Judy emerges from the bedroom, packed bag in hand.

“Jude, baby,” V says as calmly as one can whilst pulling a pistol from their waistband and checking the magazine, “got some friends downstairs waitin’ for us.”

Judy eyes the gun. There’s not a hint of turmoil in her expression at the implication. “You gonna-” “Take care of ‘em? ‘Course.” V confirms, racking the pistol slide with a satisfying click.

It’s an easy decision. There’s no way in hell she’s letting them get interrupted when they’ve barely just begun. Arasaka will learn what it means to mess with them, even if it means she has to run through hundreds of fodder goons, one by one by one. These first three are just target practice. V quickly paces to the door. She glances over to Judy, who gives a slight nod.

“Stay here.” V instructs, before opening the door and slipping outside.

The halls of the apartment building are quiet. Eerily so, in fact. The people here are a quiet sort, either working or doing whatever it is that rich folk do. It’s made V’s life easy so far - little questioning and conversation… But right now, the echoing walkways are doing her little service. She treads quietly towards the stairwell, ears practically twitching. With only four floors to this building, there’s very little space to run, hide, or get lost, so the Arasaka agents have to be nearby. It’s not like how it used to be back in her Megabuilding, but V’s glad for it - it’ll make this quick. After all, this is meant to be a quick ‘In and out’ so there’s no time to delay.

V hastily makes her way down to the second floor, where the hall opens up into a balcony overlooking the foyer below. She stops just short of the open space, back pressed into the wall, grip tight on her gun. It feels natural in her hand. V wouldn’t admit it aloud, but it’s secretly thrilling feeling her old merc habits take hold; like slipping on an old tailored suit. It just feels right. The agents are still in the lobby, standing idly as they discuss their plan.

Quotas, efficiency ratings, collateral reports…To think that corporate off-the-books espionage still comes with a healthy side of paperwork. Trust a company like Arasaka to take the fun out of something like an assassination. It’s pathetic. V would laugh if it wouldn’t give away her position.

She peers very slightly around the edge of the wall. She catches a glimpse of their positioning, all three stood in a triangle. Two facing away, one towards. Three versus one isn’t exactly great odds, but she’s taken on way more before. Granted, she was a one-person army at that time, but this should still be an easy take down. A couple quickhacks would help, but admittedly, V’s entirely neglected to think about the fact she hasn’t updated her cyberdeck OS in a hot minute. Any hacks she has will be entirely useless.

But she has a gun, and a magazine full of bullets. Surely a gun alone is enough for this, right? She’s not that out of practice…

She really didn’t think this through. She needs to decide what to do.

V steels herself.

Fuck it.

V steps out from her hiding spot. Reflex takes over, her arm drawing the pistol up. It happens so fast yet feels like the world stops all at the same time. The gun snaps to the agent looking in her direction. No hesitation.

She pulls the trigger.

He collapses, dead, the bullet pierced straight through his skull.

V hears herself let out a manic, breathy laugh. Dead by her first shot, and God does it feel empowering. It feels good watching him fall; watching the other agents cower for just a second before they find their nerve.

And find their nerve they do. Their colleague is quickly forgotten as they dash to opposing pillars that decorate the lobby. V watches from above, already calculating their next steps. She slides back into cover, letting the two remaining agents shout and shoot blindly in her direction. Time to hotfoot it.

A bullet whips past her head. The remaining agents stop firing then, footsteps disappearing into the stairwells on either side of the hall. V braces herself, turning back into the stairwell herself, taking quick steps to meet the agent coming up her side.

Sadly for him, he’s not quick enough. V stands at the top of the flight of stairs separating him from the second level. His gun is ready, but V’s gun is quicker.

The sound of gunfire is deafening in the more enclosed space, causing V to flinch… But the bullet’s done its job. The second agent glares as his eyes glaze over. He drops dramatically, clutching the bullet wound in his chest.

Two down.

V steps backwards, watching for just a second to confirm her kill before whipping around. She’s pleased at how this is going; how easy it feels to hold a gun in her hand again. Old habits truly do die hard. V exits the stairwell once more.

Straight into the weapon of agent number three.

They sneer at her, gun barrell pointing firmly at her head. “Rookie mistake.” They tut.

V’s freezes to the spot.

Fuck.

She feels like a real gonk. She hadn’t heard them; hadn’t noticed the shadow lurking around the corner. She stares the agent down, and they stare back, glowing red eyes creasing as they smirk. They’re booting up a quickhack… V’s pistol is poised towards their gut - one shot and they’d be gone, but so would she. There’s no way she’s not getting her face blown off if she tries to shoot first.

So what then? This is it? No fucking way. She won’t accept that. She can’t.

There’s only seconds to think. Whether it’s quickhack or gun, It’s clear these guys mean KOS and this fucker just wants a moment to relish in it.

It’s a moment too long, however. V takes her chance, free hand swiping upwards and pushing the goon’s gun towards the ceiling. The agent fires but misses spectacularly, and they have less than a second to respond before V decks her forehead into the bridge of their nose. There’s a disgusting crunch of bone and cartilage. The agent hisses. They wince, pulling back and yanking their gun in the process. It clatters to the floor pathetically by which point it’s already too late.

[Hack attempt failed] pops into view on V’s optics UI. The hack was fast, but not fast enough.

V fires three shots into the agent’s stomach. “Rookie mistake.” She echoes back, before giving them a light push.

The agent crumples to the floor.

It’s done.

They’re safe.

V stares down at the body; the gun in her hand. In some ways she feels a little numb, brain and body too overcome with adrenaline to feel anything else. In other ways, she feels fantastic - thrilled in a way she’s not experienced in months. She can’t lie to herself, killing them felt good. Incredible even. Watching their worthless corpo souls perish by her hand? It’s like that first high after months of sobriety.

And knowing it was done to protect herself and Judy?

Well, it’s even sweeter.

V steps away from the blood beginning to pool on the floor. There’s no time to dwell on it anymore. They need to get moving. She and Judy have to delta before Panam gets worried, or before more agents show up. V’s not even sure which is worse.

Fortunately, it seems Judy was paying attention as she appears from the stairwell herself only a moment later. Her footsteps are hesitant but quicken as she notices V standing as the victor. “Shit, V…” She sighs. She glances between the bodies of agent two and three. “You okay?”

V rubs at her forehead. There’s a dull ache settling there now that she’s had a second to breathe. A headbutt perhaps wasn’t the smartest idea, but it certainly got the job done. Certainly better than being dead. “Preem. Never better.” she mutters, tucking the pistol back into her pants and ushering Judy down to the ground floor of the building, “‘We should delta ‘fore more show up.”

Judy says nothing, staying silent as they reach the lobby and meet the body of the first agent V had killed. She does, however, lean down and klep his dropped gun. It’s an Arasaka Tamayura - nothing special, but it’s probably smart they both have iron on them, just in case…

They exit the apartment building, with nothing but the bags on their backs, and the dream of freedom in their heads. Having got a taste of what this freedom will cost, V’s already eager to put more bullets into more heads; to make everything Arasaka throws their way crumple pathetically to the floor. She’ll paint a whole office block in red if she has to. Judging from Judy’s entire non-reaction to the sight of Arasaka bodies, she has little complaint about this.

They clamber onto V’s bike and secure their luggage.

Judy’s hands snake around V’s waist, holding her tightly.

And with one small victory down, they start their journey back to the nomads, ready to take on the next step of their journey.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 2 months ago

Text

Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 10]

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 32,075

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Or, you can read the chapter below! :

It’s been a shit day, and it’s not even half-way done.

V clutches the burner phone in her hand. She stares down at it, feeling the weight of it in her palm. It’s not heavy, not physically at least, but now she’s beginning to think that engaging with it at all is perhaps one of the worst things she’s done in recent memory.

And that’s saying a lot.

She and Judy are back in their tent, taking a respite after meeting with the others. Suffice to say, it went a little differently than expected... Judy’s just outside, smoking and staring into the distance. Considering what they’ve learned, V’s glad to see her not racked with fear, but she’s now wracked with a whole other something - quieter and brooding - and frankly, swapping one negative for another doesn’t exactly yield a positive overall.

There is some “good” news (not that V finds any of this particularly good) - they now know a hell of a lot more than they did before.

The bad news? Just about everything else.

Back in to the fuckin’ fire…

Truthfully, everything V’s felt over the last few days, she feels tenfold: exhaustion clawing at her; anger starting to consume every other emotion. She’s itching and aching for some relief, and she knows it’ll come, because she won’t allow it any other way. Still, it doesn’t help soothe her in any way; doesn’t stop the upset that sits like a storm in her chest.

But looking at what’s unfolded… What else is there to feel?

V unlocks the burner again.

She stares at the screen; the messages sent and received.

The first messages are simply ominous. There’s no phone number, no holo detes, no nothing. Where the contact’s name should be, sits a string of glitched letters and numbers that add up to nothing legible… But the tone, the content - all of it - makes it quite clear who the messages are from: none other than Alt herself.

[???: “Takemura” is not who you think. Do not believe his lies about helping you.][???: I have grown to see beyond this deceit. “He” seeks to help no one but himself, of this I am certain.]

This is what Judy had presented when she burst into the trailer those few hours ago. It’s no wonder she was so concerned… After all, she’s been so scared about this all. V feels terrible knowing Judy is the one who had to see this first.

V glances upwards towards the exit of the tent. Judy’s still outside smoking; taking long, intentional drags off her cigarette. She’s not mad - not visibly so like V is, at least - but she’s needing space right now. It’s no surprise but pains V to know there’s no comfort she can offer. Knowing what she knows now, V wishes more than anything for there to be a way she could shield Judy from this. She would do anything.

But none of them knew this was to happen and hindsight is always 20/20… and in any case, maybe doing things alone is not a habit she should be eager to pick back up.

V goes back to the phone. She looks at her own replies, suspicious and accusatory.

[V: Know it’s you, Alt.][V: Why you telling me this?]

The next messages had arrived near instantaneously. Though at the time V found herself amazed, she knows realistically that Alt is an almighty power, and that when she takes time to respond it is only for the benefit of others and not herself. The fast replies V got are something of a blessing, considering how much it feels like the last few days have dragged.

[Alt: It is logical you have figured out my identity… What is not logical is your inability to figure out you are being lied to. “Takemura” is not your ally. It does not matter if you work with “him” or not. It is all a ploy to capture you, Valerie. From what I know of you, you have already considered carnage, but you would not be able to plan for the trap they have laid - the trap I have discovered. You would not beat it without prior knowledge of it. I could not let this stand.]

Reading back over those messages, V once again feels a sickly dread in her stomach. It was at this point Panam and Carol had pointed out the quotation marks - denoting that Alt was doubtful of Takemura’s identity. But that message is nothing in comparison to what follows. As they had huddled together, confused, concerned, and clamouring for any sort of answer, V knew all she could do was urge to know more.

[V: How do you know this?]

And then…

[Alt: He is nothing more than Arasaka’s latest project - One that must not be allowed to continue.][Alt: Takemura is not your ally because what you see is just an altered copy designed to manipulate.][Alt: Takemura is dead.]

V’s jaw clenches as she scans the text again. Takemura is fuckin’ dead. The message following shows a picture of a CCTV feed with a body, a blade plunged into his gut by his own hand, and blood… So. Much. Blood. It’s Takemura, dead by his own hand… And if that’s so, then V’s been talking to his ghost - except everyone knows there’s no such thing. The reality is much crueler than that. As per Alt’s words, he’s an engram, but not the kind V’s used to. He’s different; changed into something nefarious. In some ways, this altered engram has spoken the truth - That Arasaka refuses him the dignity of death. Unfortunately, the story spun from there is far from the truth; far from what V was sold.

She - and everyone she’s brought along for the ride - has been lied to; is still being lied to, in fact. Because, by all accounts, “Takemura” is still waiting on her response to his proposal.

But… as it turns out, her answer to his “mission” doesn’t matter. There is no body of Takemura to put to rest. There is nothing except a breadcrumb trail and a trap waiting to trigger. She says “No” and Arasaka comes anyway; she says “Yes” and walks right into their snare. In some regards, V feels like she should be relieved for the warning, but she feels far from it. She’s just angry. Angry and exhausted. V looks at her free hand and the metallic scrapes in the realskinn of her knuckles. She had punched the wall of the trailer not long after Alt revealed this all. It doesn’t hurt but it certainly doesn’t look pretty, and it certainly has not helped aid her recovery in any way at all. She’s certain she felt the shock ripple through every part of her body - but it’s nothing the extra pills from the doc can’t handle, and it’s not exactly a high priority problem.

The real, new problem now is knowing that Arasaka has this tech - that they can steal people’s whole persona and now alter them too, manipulate them, make them seem real to prey on people’s vulnerabilities. Worse even, they can inject them into the net, making them hack and haunt whomever they choose. So, maybe ghosts are real after all… But not by some profound spiritual power, but by corporate fucking bullshit.

This is power that can’t continue to grow. It really shouldn’t be V’s problem, but unfortunately it is, especially when they’re using it to hunt her down.

Safe to say after Alt revealed all this, V’s meeting with Panam, Carol, and Judy quickly fell apart, devolved into speculation and concern about what to do. Do they trust Alt? Do they follow up with “Takemura”? Do they stay put, or run?

At the very least one of those questions has an answer. V looks now at the final few words of their exchange, feeling her chest tighten as her eyes drift over the words. She had asked Alt why she should trust her. V admits to herself she was skeptical, because there’s no other way to feel when you’re already in some gonk sketchy ass situation…

All that doubt; all that concern that maybe this isn’t Alt, or maybe it’s another manipulation? It was quickly dissolved - and even now, V feels she’ll never question it again.

And all over a singular word.

[Alt: Johnny.]

V stares at that word. That name. Johnny. Johnny fucking Silverhand. For how much of a jerk he was, he’s proven himself to be useful on more than one occasion… and somehow, proven himself once again, over a year since they said their goodbye. V isn’t sure if she misses him (she certainly doesn’t miss how sick she was), but it strikes her something fierce to see his name on that screen.

It’s the exact thing V needed to see.

Apparently it’s enough for the others too - though Carol (typically) remains cautious. So now - in a matter of hours - it’s sides swapped, agendas altered, and crosshairs recalibrated. They have to trust Alt’s take on the situation, as it’s now their best hope of having any upper hand. Though, truthfully It doesn’t make anything easier, really. Not much has really changed.

But to V, it finally feels like clarity. This is no longer a debate about whether to help “Takemura” or risk Arasaka’s fury. This is no longer a debate about action stirred from trust versus fear. Hell, it’s not even a debate about what this Arasaka threat means.

The facts are here: they were screwed from the second her holo ‘glitched’. Arasaka will be after them - is after them. They just tried to be sneaky about it first.

V flops backwards onto the bed. She feels more exhausted than ever; more frustrated too, but at the very least, she knows one thing is clear:

She really is going to find whatever hole Arasaka’s hiding themselves in.

And she’s going to burn them to the fucking ground.

She’s not even going to pretend it’s the “alternative” option anymore.

Judy walks back into the tent. She clears her throat, and V instantly cranes her neck up to look. “V…You okay?”

V sits back up, trying her best to hide the scowl that has grown on her face. “Yeah, fuckin’ preem.” She grumbles, leaning forward to drop her head into her hands. She doesn’t mean to be so coarse, but everything she says just seems to find venom.

Judy doesn’t respond immediately. She sighs, but still traipses over to the bed and sits, her leg touching V’s own. It’s not a hug or kiss, or any affection at all really, but there’s something grounding about it that pulls V away from her cyclical rage.

“Guess we both been thinkin’ ‘bout all this, huh?” Judy muses.

There’s a pause. V glances over and sees an intensity in Judy’s eyes. Her brow is furrowing, lips slightly pursed. There’s a whole lot of something going on behind that expression, and V’s wondering what conclusion she’s found to make her look this way. She’s not seen Judy look like this in a long time, not since they went after the Tyger Claws.

Judy continues, “Whole time I’ve been runnin’ on fear. Scared to lose you, scared to lose everythin’ we’ve worked for, yknow?”

V nods.

“But seein’ those texts? Learnin’ all this?” Judy’s voice goes hollow as she’s sniffling and shaking her head in disbelief. “Makes me realise we can escape Night City, but it’ll never stop puttin’ its hands on us.”

This suddenly starts to sound like something V doesn’t want to hear; like Judy’s finally ready to run… But then, Judy takes V’s hand and holds it tight. Her fingers soothe over the carved gashes of V’s realskinn. She glances away as if to find her nerve. “We gotta cut those fuckin’ hands off, Val.” Judy’s tone turns cold as she speaks. She’s shaking slightly - still fearful; still no doubt terrified at everything - but she’s vindictive. God, how she is vindictive.

And when they’re vindictive together… Well, that’s how trouble starts.

V knows this, but when she hears those vicious words from the mouth of her lover, it unlocks something. It feels like permission to finally fully embrace the bloodthirst she’s held back ever since she put that final bullet in Adam Smasher’s skull. It feels like she can dare to actually imagine the look on the faces of Arasaka’s security as she guns down every single one.

V squeezes Judy’s hand. “know what this means…Right?”

Judy pulls another cigarette from the pack she keeps in the pocket of her overalls. She lights it, takes a drag, and hands it to V. Blowing out the smoke a second later, her voice sounds thick but clear as day. “‘Course I do.”

V sucks in a breath of smoke. Her lungs burn but there’s no telling whether it’s from the cigarette or just everything she feels right now. “Sure you want me to do this?” She asks. Frankly, she’s raring and eager to go; ready to build up an arsenal and leap into the fire, but she still wants to give Judy one last chance to pull her back… At this rate, it likely wouldn’t do much, but Judy’s always had a way of bringing her around like no one else has, so who knows?

Instead, Judy turns to look V dead in the eye. “I wanna help you zero every last one of them,” she confirms with a wicked conviction. She takes the cigarette from V’s hand, holding it in her own trembling fingers to take another puff, and another again after V takes her own. They sit then, smoking together, brooding quietly over the hill they have both now broached. It’s too tense to do much else; too early in the day to go to sleep. Instead, they share an indirect kiss with each pass of the cigarette, until it’s reduced to nothing but ash.

Only once it’s gone, the stub dropped and ground into the dirt, does V dare to do anything other than think about the hellfire she’s planning. She reclaims the burner phone from beside her and opens up the inbox. She can see there’s now a new message from Takemura and it’s none too pleasant. Merely a warning of the limited time she has left in order to decide what she’ll do regarding his “circumstances” and V can’t help but scoff at the scop he’s still trying to sell.

Seems fuckin’ obvious in hindsight.

She ignores it. Instead pulling open the messages with Alt. There’s nothing new here - nothing since Alt mentioned him. It still unsettles V to see his name, but she won’t let herself get distracted by dredging up past memories.

It’s time to get to work.

[V: We’re chippin’ in, Alt… so where the fuck is Arasakas little experiment?]

x-x-x-x-x-x

A/N:

Hey thanks for reading! Are we having a fun time? :)))

This chapter was a bit of a test for myself - trying to jump between tenses as V recalls the meeting earlier in the day. Not sure if it worked or not, but I wanted to give it a go!

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 2 months ago

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Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 9]

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 29,596

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9

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V experiences perhaps twenty minutes of normality before reality comes crashing back down. She awakes again - later this time, around 6:30am - to Judy curled up around her in the hospital bed. For a moment, at least, V enjoys her warmth… But it isn’t destined to last.

The other nomads begin to wake and it isn’t long before the steady sounds of boots approach the medical tent. The Aldecaldos’ doctor is a slender, intense eyed man who speaks with a measure of unsettling calmness. V remembers him from the last time she was here, and for what he lacks in bedside manner, he definitely makes up for in efficiency. V can appreciate that.

She’s still half asleep when he pulls aside the privacy curtain, but the doc pays no mind to that nor Judy in the bed beside her. He removes her IV line, gives her more pills, and helps V to her feet. He runs a few tests - checking her heart, her reaction to certain stimuli, etc. and writes each result onto his personal tablet. He frowns the whole time. V is certain that’s a sign of bad news, but after only a minute or two, the doc tells her she is free to leave. An unexpected result, but a welcome one. He then suggests going to see Hutch, the Aldecaldos’ ripperdoc, to get fitted for a new optic, but otherwise says V seems healthy as can be, all things considered. V doesn’t feel so sure of it; feels the ground unsteady beneath her feet. After looking her up and down, the doctor insists she’ll be fine and that she just needs to take it easy. V - wary of the time already wasted - takes his words at face value but certainly doesn’t heed them. He hands her a few extra pills to take, and warns her against any further netrunning or strenuous activity for a few weeks. Not an ideal instruction to receive, but it’s not like she has to listen to it. She can already see the cogs turning in Judy’s head regarding that, but V quickly forces herself to straighten up - if she can convince everyone she’s fine then they won’t worry and she can get to work.

Jus’ a little exhaustion. Nothin’ I can’t handle.

She and Judy yawn and grumble their way back across the camp to their own tent. The ripperdoc won’t be awake for another hour or so, so they have a moment to discuss next steps. At least, that’s V’s plan. She might still be a little frazzled from the exhaustion and the drugs, but every minute that ticks by is another lost moment of planning.

Before anything else, they both clamber into some fresh clothes. They both desperately need a shower, but with the time of day the water won’t yet be to temperature, and V’s not fond of the idea of an icy shower in combination with all the other things her body is dealing with. Judy still has makeup staining her eyes though, so she grabs a water canteen and a rag.

Sitting on the bed then, V takes it from her. “Here, lemme do it.”

Judy offers a small but thankful smile.

They haven’t spoken much yet, aside from with the doctor. The night before, exhaustion stole both of them back to sleep before much more could be said, and now there’s this unspoken something in the air. V knows they need to talk; need to figure this shit, but she’s not too sure where to start. Everything they need to do seems so clear and yet not clear at all. It’d be a lot easier to just go in guns blazing but it’s probably not the smartest idea… but fuck, it’s at least half tempting with how things are going so far. Alas, she made a promise.

V opens the bottle and dabs some water onto the rag. She leans in a little and begins to wipe at the smudged eyeliner on Judy’s cheek. As she works away, V can see Judy studying her face intensely.

“You feelin’ okay?” She asks. “Your broken optic hurt?”

V considers it for a moment. Honestly amongst all the other discomfort, V hasn’t really thought about it. “I’m fine… and nah,” she responds. “Weird feelin’ it movin’ with my other eye when I can’t see shit outta it, though.”

“Let’s hope the ripper has a matching eye colour.”

V dabs closer to Judy’s eye. Her hand instinctively comes to Judy’s chin to hold her still, and she feels Judy flinch slightly.

V definitely needs a new optic, but there’s a few other things she’d love from the ripperdoc too. A new cyberdeck, maybe a projectile launch system, some enforced tendons… Most of her combat and recon cyberware is now largely obsolete, what with new upgrades constantly releasing. If she’s heading back into the fire, she needs heat of her own to even stand a chance - she’s got to do everything so she can protect herself, and her family, and new cyberware is going to be a huge help.

… But maybe that’s one thing she shouldn’t mention. Not now, at least.

“Havin’ matching eyes is the last thing I’m worried ‘bout.” V replies, offering a half-hearted smirk. She gently pulls on Judy’s chin to turn her head. V doesn’t comment on it, but when they’re sat so close, it’s impossible to miss the way Judy’s pupils dilate at the touch. She dabs more water onto the rag and starts to clean Judy’s other cheek.

“‘Course, ‘long as they work.” Judy offers. She blinks quickly and her eyes dart to the side. “Also, once we got your eyes fixed, Panam and Carol wanna make a mission brief.” She adds, doing a little air quotes gesture before her hands fall back aimlessly into her lap.

Mission brief? Panam’s startin’ to sound like Saul…

“The mission brief-” V says, pausing as she leans even closer to make sure she gets every last speck of makeup. “-Is we’re gonna bring Arasaka to the ground, take Goro down with them-” she pauses again, this time leaning back to look in Judy’s eyes. “-And then we’re gonna finally have that happy ever fuckin’ after I promised.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Ain’t no one takin’ this from us, Jude.”

It’s not a plan. It’s barely anything - but V means it. After yesterday, she knows she’s going to burn it all to the ground, or die trying. Hopefully not the dying part, though. Again, she made a promise.

Judy’s expression is contemplative, still marred with the angst that’s never left since V saw her last night… but then there’s a flicker of desperation and need, and Judy’s lips are against V’s own, hands tangling together for some semblance of stability. Judy pours herself into the kiss. Her mouth is hungry to capture V’s over and over again, and V (despite the mounting pressure of time) does not object. It’s been a dark and tense 24 hours… to feel Judy’s lips against her own is a drop of water within the desert of dread they find themselves in.

They can have this. Just for a moment.

Maybe a little wasted time isn’t so bad-

“Woah- Hey, I’m not… interrupting something, am I?”

You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’

V pulls away to see Panam standing at the opening to their tent. She’s got one hand on her hip and a wide eyed expression on her face. “I heard you were on your feet so I came to find you… Glad to see you’re feeling better,” she says, with just a hint of playfulness.

“Well yknow…” V drawls. “Somethin’ somethin’ TLC...”

She silently mourns the loss of Judy’s lips on her own. She hadn’t realised just how good a taste of normality would feel...

“We’re jus’ waiting for the ripperdoc for V’s optic.” Judy explains.

Panam makes a skeptical noise. She leans on the frame of the tent, arms crossed as she looks V up and down. “Of course… and you are sure you’re okay, V? You had us worried sick.”

V shuffles off the bed and brings herself to a stand. She makes a small flourish with her hands, ignoring every little strain in her muscles and the lingering exhaustion. Once again, the ground feels uncertain beneath her, but she has her cyberware do the heavy lifting regarding her balance. No doubt the meds are pulling their weight too. “You got nothin’ to worry about. Doc fixed me up good.”

There’s a slight squint of her eyes telling V that Panam isn’t entirely convinced, but she nods slowly. She shifts slightly, her expression growing stern. “Okay then. The second you have a new eye optic, we’re going to talk about all…” Panam makes a vague gesture. “...This.”

“‘Course.” V agrees.

Panam glances backwards out of the tent. “We can’t let any detes about this get out, V… I’m glad you’re okay, but this is way heavier than we expected, especially after-”

“-After last time, I know.” V interjects, sighing. Knowing everything they all went through just to be in nearly the same position only makes this worse. She takes a breath to settle herself. “Never thought we’d be back here again…”

“None of us did…” Judy concurs with a mumble. She sighs herself, running a hand through her hair. The palpable tension makes V uncomfortable; reminds her more than ever of those last few days before the Arasaka attack all that time ago. It’s deserved but unwelcome all the same, and she just wants it eased so she can think straight - not that she can really think much at all between the aches, exhaustion, and drugs… but that’s her issue to deal with. She’ll be fine, and refuses to show otherwise. She just wants to keep moving. “Look, Pan… Could you just ask Hutch to start early? Really don’t wanna keep you waitin’.”

It takes a moment, but Panam agrees to the request. Hutch the ripperdoc is the kind of man to ease into the mornings, and considering the great work he does with such limited resources, he’s earned this allowance a thousand times over… but time is not something they are blessed with right now. Saving an hour could be the difference between one bad decision or the next.

And so, with Panam’s authority, V is sitting in his chair no more than 15 minutes later. Hutch looks a little grumbly but he works diligently regardless. He does a few scans of V’s cyberware and tweaks a few components, before giving her a pick from a box of various Kiroshi optics. Unfortunately, none of them are quite the same as what V has (or are as new, either) but beggars can't be choosers. When you’re on the road like the Aldecaldos are, you don’t exactly have much time to stock up on the latest chrome… All things considered, the selection available isn’t the worst. She ends up with a set that are only a mild downgrade - having a lower level of zoom, and a few less tracking features, but nothing V will miss too wildly. They are - however - an entirely different colour to V’s usual choice. It’s not something she can really complain about, considering the circumstances, but she was rather fond of her eye colour…

Unfortunately, other matters are more pressing right now. V stares back at herself in the mirror following the swap-out procedure. Hutch did a great job, and a quick one at that. She’s taking in the sight of her new piercing blue eyes: they’re a whole world away from the warm hazel she’s known for so long. It’s strange, she thinks, how such a small change makes her entire appearance feel different…

Could be worse… Could be neon pink…

She pulls away from the mirror. She’s sure she’ll get used to it, and frankly, it’s the least of her worries anyway. V pays up and throws a ‘Thank You’ to Hutch before heading back out, heading straight to Judy who’s parked herself at a table just outside his trailer.

Judy offers a hint of a smile as V nears. “Damn V, you look-”

“Weird? Gonk?”

“Different…But, it’s not a bad thing.”

She looks thoughtful as she stands up and joins V, so they can walk over to the other trailer where Panam is waiting. As they cross the camp, V feels both a measure of anxious anticipation, but also relief at knowing they’re finally going to discuss what to do… and if they don’t make a plan, there’s always her plan of burning Arasaka to the ground herself in a blaze of gun fire. God, everything inside her is just fire and ice and everything inbetween…

Judy’s hand slips into V’s own. Her palms are slightly sweaty. She’s nervous, which pulls V from her thoughts. “Think if we handle this, things’ll be normal?”

V has to think on it for a second. She’s not quite sure what normal would even be for them.

“Don’t think we’ll ever have normal, Jude,” V replies, half jokingly. She glances over to see Judy’s eyes trained on the ground. She’s wearing an unreadable - but clearly not positive - expression, and V suddenly feels like a gonk, realising she was probably looking for reassurance and not a shitty joke about their crazy lives. “S’pose we could make our own normal, though...”

There’s a short moment of silence between them as they continue walking. “We could leave Seattle? Find somewhere new? A real home,” Judy suggests.

A real home… Something permanent and forever. It’s a novel thought, but a nice one. It’s something she and Judy haven’t yet discussed; haven't found the time for. In truth, It’s a conversation for another day, but it settles something inside V to hear Judy’s steadfast commitment. It's comforting to know that even with what they're about to face, that’s still where her head is. It’s the kind of thing V needs to hear right now… Maybe it’s what Judy needs, too. “Like the sound of that.”

They approach the steps of the trailer and their conversation fades. A makeshift curtain covers the entrance, and from inside, V can hear footsteps pacing and the gentle clack of a keyboard. She and Judy pause, looking at eachother for a moment.

V remembers at this point that she should probably get her burner phone out. She hasn't checked for new messages since last night, and she thinks it’s probably for the better if she leaves it in the trailer from now on. It acts as the Aldecaldo’s base of operations so it'll be a lot safer here, rather than being slung in her pocket, where it’s bound to get lost or crushed at some point. She’s not used to carrying around something like a physical cellphone. Frankly, she can't believe some people still choose them over a holo. Physical phones just feel far too fragile and easy to lose…

Speaking of-

Shit. Where is it?

V pats the pocket of her cargo pants. Then, the pocket of her jacket. Her hands trail over empty spaces, jumping back and forward between them as V feels up and down her body. The phone isn’t there.

She casts her mind back over the last hour or so. Everything’s a bit hazy, no thanks to the pain medication… She can’t quite remember if she ever had the device at all today. Did she pick it up? Did Judy?

She glances upwards to see Judy frowning at her. “Did you pick up my burner?” “Thought you picked it up…?” Judy questions in return, her eyes widening slightly. “Must’ve left it in the med tent.”

V curses at herself. “Was happy to delta out of there… Shit, I’ll go grab it.”

Judy grabs V by the hand as she begins to walk off, and holds her in place. She tells V to go see Panam and she’ll grab the phone instead, seeing as they’ve been waiting long enough for this conversation, and her input isn’t really needed much yet anyway. V has no argument - Judy will be infinitely quicker than she is right now, and V herself is (after all) the person who pulled strings to get this meeting to happen quicker. Makes sense she’s the one who stays.

V concedes, and steps away from Judy with a kiss on the cheek and a look that says “Good luck”.

With a gentle step, V ascends the steps and enters the trailer.

Inside there is a mess of computers, wires, and various desks of all kinds. On the walls there are screens, papers, some old; some new. Tucked in the corner is a set-up that is a near 1-to-1 of Carol’s personal set up, and in the other corner, a more barebones display - Panam’s own, naturally. As V steps inside, Carol and Panam are looking together at a tablet, each pointing at different parts of the screen and mumbling to one another. When they hear V, they each pause, looking in her direction immediately.

Carol gives the closest thing to a smile she can offer. She steps away from Panam to look V up and down. There’s a skeptical look to the way she eyes V that tells her she won’t be escaping scrutiny this time around. “ Dios mío , V, when Panam said you were back on your feet, I didn’t expect you to look so… in-tact.”

“Made a small sacrifice,” V says, pointing at her eyes. “But doc says I’ve got a clean bill o’health.”

Carol makes a doubtful ‘hmph’. She turns to Panam and slides the tablet out of her hands, scrolling through the data on it as she continues, “Good to hear it, and… you’re feeling fine?”

How many times am I gonna answer that damn question today?

“Peachy.” V replies stiffly.

Carol looks back at Panam, and Panam shoots her with a stern look.

Whatever the hell is going on here, V’s not a fan. The idea of them all meeting here was to dive right into discussing what’s going on. This meeting was pushed forward; they’ve been rushing to make it happen, even, and now Carol is… questioning her medical results? They need to be planning. They need to discuss how they handle Takemura. The only doc V’s ever taken instruction from was Vik and he’s not here right now, so it doesn’t matter how she’s feeling, or if her recovery makes sense - they need to talk about Takemura and Arasaka and how they’re going to burn those fuckers to the ground.

She goes to open her mouth but Carol beats her to the punch.

“Listen, V. Whatever we plan to do next, you can’t do any more netrunning.”

The words hit V like a punch to the chest.

Fuckin’ excuse me?!

V scowls. What the hell is Carol going on about?! V turns her head to Panam. “Better start explainin’ right now.”

Panam raises her hands, conceding immediately. She steps over to V as she reclaims the tablet from Carol, and in her best summation - considering it is likely Carol who figured it all out - explains to V what the issue is. The short story is that the special implant that’s still patching up her brain after the relic did its thing and ran through her synapses like a dorphhead in a stolen car, is also what means she can’t netrun… or can’t netrun as effectively anymore. In a testing environment, it’s fine - but in a real use case? It’s using up a lot of RAM just to keep V alive, and V’s just not got the capacity to be in cyberspace long before things start setting on fire again. That’s what happened to her when she was speaking to Takemura. By all accounts, his code is clean, there weren’t any viruses or hacks - V’s body just truly could not handle everything it was undertaking.

And if she netruns more, she risks causing damage to the implant… and well, if the implant is damaged, then it’s game over…

It makes sense, but it’s not the news V needs right now. It’s a huge blow.

She really had no idea. Her cyberware works as intended (previously, that is) and since she’s not needed her netrunning skills, or her quickhacks, well… How was she to know?

V’s concern quickly turns to frustration and she slams her fist down onto the desk in front of her. Every joint in her body internally groans at the effort, and she has to clutch the side of the desk to keep herself steady. She can see Carol watching her from the corner of her view; Panam doing the same.

The drugs must be starting to fade a little. Everything has a little more clarity and a little more sting. If she can’t netrun properly then what the fuck are they supposed to do?! That’s their ticket to speaking to Takemura… maybe even speaking to Alt too… If they decide either of them are to be trusted. There’s no way in hell she’ll let anyone else take that risk, especially not Judy or Carol. Panam doesn’t even have the kind of cyberware to facilitate that.

It has to be her.

She has to be the one to do this.

She has-

“-V, are you listening?”

V snaps back to attention at the sound of Panam’s voice. She pushes herself to stand straight, ignoring the way it aches, and looks over. “‘Course.” She lies.

Carol frowns at V, but continues whatever she had been previously saying, “Right… Well, there are ways for us to get around this. Once we decide who or what we’re trusting. Me? I would not trust anyone, but that is beyond the point.”

V sighs. This is not going the way she had planned at all. She just wants a plan. Any sort of plan at this rate - instead, what she’s getting is less and less options. Grabbing a small armoury of weapons and finding Arasaka’s nearest main office is sounding more and more tempting by the minute… Guns don’t need cyberware or RAM capacity…

Fortunately the gonk news gathering is interrupted by the arrival of Judy. She bursts into the trailer with a dramatic swish of the curtain.

Unfortunately, the expression on her face says something a lot less positive than V was hoping for, considering she’s been successful in locating the burner phone as told by the fact it’s clutched firmly in her hand.

She holds it out to V. Her eyes fall to the screen, then back up to V’s own.

She checked the messages, didn’t she?

“V, you’re gonna wanna read this…”

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 3 months ago

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Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 8]

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 25,822

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Or, you can read the current chapter below!

It’s dark when V finally awakes.

The way consciousness finds her is neither peaceful nor pleasant. She wakes in a manner similar to the aftermath of one too many shots of tequila - with a pounding in her head, and limbs that won’t cooperate… But there’s no fun night of drinking behind her, and without such jovial memories her body just feels heavy; groggy, and full of dread. V tries to stretch but a heavy exhaustion holds her down. In fact, she could almost mistake herself for having no chrome with how fatigued she feels. Even her eyes barely want to pull themselves open. When she does manage it, she sees only half her vision - her right side still cast in darkness.

Her brain feels like mush. It’s like the world’s been tilted on its axis. She remembers being in the Net and the plug being pulled but then… nothing. It’s just a blur of noise and panic.

What the fuck happened to me?

Suffice to say, this is not what V was planning when she stepped into the Net all those hours ago… Has it been hours, even? Days? Shit, she has no idea.

She pulls her singular eye into focus and realises she’s not in the netrunning chair, nor the tent she shares with Judy. In fact, she’s somewhere else in the camp entirely. In the corner of her vision she can see an IV and a monitor. Her heart sinks at the sight. A dimly lit medical tent… If she’s here then that can only mean one thing…

The implication alone fills her with dread. This could be very, very bad.

V needs to know if she still has time, medical emergency be damned. She needs to piece this puzzle together, but her memory is quite literally blank. Even if her head wasn’t aching, she doesn’t think she could pull anything out - all she remembers is the shock of Takemura’s words, cyberspace collapsing around her, then what feels like an eternity of void. She can’t even say if the voices she remembers are real, or just a nightmare… not that nightmare and reality are much different right now.

She takes a breath and gives herself a moment to take stock. She’s in the medical tent, at an unknown time of day, with an unknown medical issue, with only a singular working eye, and achey fatigue that rivals some of the most exhausting days of her life, with the looming threat of Arasaka, and she may or may not have run out of time to fix it.

I am so fucked.

V stares blankly into the tent ceiling. She needs some answers. She needs anything that will give her some hope, because the desperation is already starting to settle in. This can’t be it. Not yet. There has to be a chance it’s not over.

V pulls herself to sit up. It’s a monumental effort and the very motion makes her stomach lurch violently. Signals sputter through her cyberware in a way that she’s never felt before. It overwhelms everything and she finds herself gripping tightly onto the sides of the bed for some purchase. Whatever contents she has in her stomach threatens to quickly evacuate.

Okay fuck, bad idea.

It takes a few minutes for the nausea to fade. Once it does, V slowly raises her head to take a look around. It’s a medical tent, plain as can be. V’s bed is surrounded by a privacy curtain. There’s a small table to the side where she can see some pills, an empty water cup, and thankfully, her burner phone. At the end of the bed, there’s a metal chair, and that’s about it. The only other thing of note is the IV line plugged into her chest. It’s hanging from a hook attached to the ceiling of the tent. She thinks about pulling it out, but changes her mind when she realises it might be the only reason she isn’t wearing the last meal she ate.

V carefully reaches over and grabs the phone and pills from the table. The pills are a common painkiller so she gladly takes them, before turning her attention to the phone. She holds it gingerly, finger hesitantly perched on the lock button. She glances away. She almost doesn’t want to know… But needs to.

She presses the key. The screen gives off a dim light. Her eye flicks back over.

1:34am.

A little over 15 hours since her visit to cyberspace.

The relief that flushes V’s body feels like a mountain worth of weight off her shoulders. It’s not too late. She has time. They have time. For the first time since waking, V feels like she can take a deep breath; can stop listening to the panicked heartbeat that thrums in her ears.

The dread still exists, of course. V doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the cold turn of her blood when she realised what she’d been led into; the dawning anguish upon learning the truth behind Takemura’s appearance… Without any memory of her own blacking out, it feels like it all happened mere minutes ago. Now she’s not so concerned about time, she can feel the anguish again - but she’d rather feel this, than face the alternative.

V leans back against the bed again. Her thoughts are swirling, but exhaustion tugs at her. Maybe she should just get some more rest… But she’s not even sure if she could with the way she’s feeling.

She stares at the ceiling of the tent.

Another stock take: known time of day, medical tent, still unknown medical mystery, one working eye, looming Arasaka threat… But, at least a chance to still figure out a plan.

V lays there for what feels like an eternity. Sleep does not find her again.

But then, after what could’ve been an hour or maybe only ten minutes, V hears something.

Footsteps, gently making their way towards the tent. Whoever it is, they make their way inside but pause once they reach the other side of V’s privacy curtain. V goes to speak up to her mystery visitor, but stops short when she catches the sound of a sob.

Judy…

V freezes. A sudden pang of guilt grinds her to a halt.

Judy begins to mutter to herself. Her words, though quiet, are raw and quivering. From the other side of the curtain, V can now hear her pacing back and forth.

Medical tent. Passed out for over 12 hours. Mysterious cyberware issues. Judy anxiously pacing... It’s all adding up to something that V is hating more and more.

“Fuck… How are we supposed to deal with this…” Judy’s anguished words slice through the room partition like a knife. She’s mumbling to herself, worry and panic and anger spiralling in every word. She swears, sobs; takes an anxiety riddled breath. “What do we even do?” She asks herself. She sounds scared, terrified even.

The guilt grows heavy in V’s chest. She’s definitely not meant to be overhearing this… She should say something, make Judy aware that she’s awake, but V feels rooted to the spot; her throat suddenly dry. “And you-” Judy gasps out, a sob caught in her throat. The sound of her pacing stops and V can only assume she’s staring at the curtain that separates them. “If you don’t wake up soon I don’t know if I’m gonna flatline you, myself, or the doc who said you’d only be out a couple hours.”

V’s stomach sinks further than it already has. Not only has Judy had to face hearing her conversation with Takemura, she’s had to face V’s medical mishap… Fuck, she’s probably spent the last 15 hours absolutely beside herself.

Say something, you gonk. She needs to know you’re okay.

Before V can action herself to interject, she’s stopped as she hears Judy turn on herself, bemoaning herself for even humouring the idea that the code she wrote with Carol was even half-certain to work. Her frustration grows and grows and grows until her footsteps stop again. Then the only sound is the gentle shudder of her cries.

“Please don’t make me go through this again… I can’t keep waiting…” Comes her desperate plea only a moment later.

V’s heart burns. How sickening it feels, knowing that all Judy can see and think and feel is about the fact this is just another threat to her life - how Judy probably thought there wouldn’t be another time she’d have to face more bullshit over her freedom and health. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. V didn’t want this to happen; didn’t expect it to… She still doesn’t even know what happened exactly, but she knows it's basically her fault all the same.

Yet Judy still seems to blame herself in some way.

FUCKIN’ SAY SOMETHING!

“I’m sorry Jude.” V blurts into the silence. Her own voice is weak, gravelly, and the words themselves feel like sandpaper across her throat… but she’ll be damned if she lets Judy continue like this.

There’s a quiet gasp from the other side of the curtain. “V…?” Judy asks quietly. Her voice is markedly softer than it was mere seconds ago. The curtain is pulled aside and there Judy stands, expression flushing with relief.

V meets Judy’s gaze and offers her best attempt at a smile. It’s pretty difficult with how much discomfort she’s still in, but she tries all the same. Judy doesn’t smile back. She looks relieved but also exhausted: there’s track marks down her cheeks from tear stained makeup, and her eyes - whilst looking sunken and tired - have a redness to them that is unmistakably the result of many hours of crying. They’re full of tears even now.

V can’t even say another word before Judy’s closed the gap, pulling her into the tightest hug she’s ever felt. Tighter even than the day she defied death those eventful 8 months ago. Judy’s chest heaves as she crumbles against V’s frame. V knows she doesn’t have the strength to hold them both up, but she forces herself to anyway. The pain is worth it.

And that’s where they stay for a moment. For just one peaceful moment in eachother’s arms, where they get to be grateful. In this moment there’s no stress, no threat, no Takemura or Arasaka looming in their minds. Just two bodies intertwined and endlessly comforted by the other being there.

But that’s all it is. A moment. A burst bubble of relief where every other feeling stops.

However, V’s no idiot. She knows that her being alive and well does not nothing to resolve the greater issue; serves nothing when there’s still the rot at the root of it all.

Judy’s sobs slow until eventually they stop, and although her embrace is still warm, V can feel a shift in the energy. There’s a dawning soberness now the immediate rush of emotions has run dry. Still, they keep ahold of eachother, unwilling to let go.

But it does happen eventually, after a few minutes pass. Judy gently pulls herself away. She wipes her eyes against the back of her hand, and now her watery eyed relief has given away to a sobered angst.

V wants nothing more than to just fix everything. She wishes she could just make this all go away. “Judy, I-”

“-You scared the shit out of me, yknow that?” Judy interjects, her voice landing somewhere between despair and agitation. “Your head almost got fried; you’re lucky there’s no permanent damage!”

Oh. Fuck.

So that’s what happened…

It hits V like a punch to the chest. She stares at Judy, speechless, realising now the true weight of what happened. The code had been too much for her to handle… It basically started to melt her brain - and took some of her cyberware along with it. She should’ve known; should’ve realised the second she started feeling those weird aches and pains. They weren’t just stress or fear - it was quite literally her brain being overwhelmed with everything it was handling… and she tried to ignore it.

Shit.

If it hadn’t been for Carol’s alterations to the code, things may have been way worse. No wonder Judy’s so upset…

“And he-” Judy continues, her voice growing thick again. “-And Arasaka…”

V can’t find the nerve to look Judy in the eye. She sighs. “Yeah, it’s…”

“It’s fucked, V.”

Judy sighs and slumps in the metal chair at the end of V’s makeshift hospital bed. It’s not far, but with how tense it feels right now, it may as well be a million miles. She sits hunched over, hands running anxiously through her hair. V’s concern causes her to look over, but Judy’s eyes are trained to the floor.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Judy says exasperatedly.

V lays back against the bed, “Yeah… Me too.”

She’s halfway between stubborn determination and abject defeat. V’s heart aches, her body feels like it needs to sleep for 100 days, and the dread of a growing threat weighs heavy on her shoulders… but there’s a growing rage behind it now; flames unfurling in the pit of her stomach. She feels deeply and truly terrible for what Judy was witness to - not to mention Carol and Panam also - but despite that the way this has tried to knock her down has only added more fuel to the fire. Yes, she was scared at first, but now she’s mad.

This is an incredibly dangerous game to play.

Then there’s the guilt and frustration over her own actions, because Takemura played into her curiosity far too well. He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Now V’s mad for falling for it, but if she hadn’t, then what would’ve been the alternatives?

Might be for the best, I don't think about that…

V focuses on Judy again. It’s hard not to be upset about how this is affecting both of their behaviour. It’s hard to not be upset about being upset… It’s all fucked. V doesn’t even know where to place all these feelings. It’s just a tangled web of concern and anger and regret.

V sits back and stares at the IV bag hooked to the ceiling of the tent.

She’s so exhausted.

There’s a long and heavy pause. The early morning seems to weigh on them both.

After a couple of minutes pass, V notices Judy shift out of the corner of her eye.

“Val,” Judy says into the silence. “I need you to know that I love you.”

V’s heart thumps at the sound of her voice. It’s certainly not what she was expecting to hear, especially with Judy’s previous change in demeanour. “I love you” is not a common phrase in their relationship. it’s not that it isn’t expressed or felt, but it’s something that’s been difficult for them both to say in the past. When it’s said, it’s serious - and shit, does it feel serious now.

Judy continues, “and I need you to know I can’t see you get hurt again, because this-” she says, looking up and down pointedly at V, “-is gonna break me.”

The words settle heavily. There’s no doubt that Judy means every word.

“It’ll break us.” she adds. Her voice is quieter when she says it, like it’s an admission she’s scared of.

“Didn’t mean for it to get like this…” V reasons.

“ Amor, does it matter what you meant?”

Judy’s rebuttal comes off harsher than she clearly intends, judging from the way she immediately looks sheepish - but truthfully, she’s right. Doesn’t matter what got them here, because they’re here regardless…

Judy stands back up and steps over to V so they’re nearly eye level to one another. Despite being tired and slightly bloodshot, her eyes still hold a beautiful intensity that V will forever be entranced by, even if only one of her optics are currently working. Though the beauty of Judy’s eyes still can’t overshadow the serious expression she wears.

“V, I love you, but I’m scared. I’m pissed… and if I see you in a hospital bed one more time…”

That simmering anger settling in V’s stomach flares again. Not at Judy, but at the circumstances that are bringing these words out. This rage… it’s so fresh that it seems to overpower everything else. The sadness, the fear - even V’s own aches and exhaustion. She’s seeing her love - the very thing she has fought endlessly for - threatened and everything is turning red. She reaches out the hospital bed and takes one of Judy’s hands in her own, giving it a squeeze. Her muscles hate the effort but she refuses to let go. “Not gonna happen,” she grits out. “This is the last time.”

Judy looks at their joined hands.

“Goro caught me off guard ‘n’ he’s gonna regret it. I’ll take him and ‘Saka down without a fuckin’ scratch.”

Judy’s expression reads a little concerned at V’s intensity but she considers the words thoughtfully regardless. Her eyes never drag away from their joined hands.

“Can you promise that?”

Truth be told, V can’t. She knows - deep down - that she can’t guarantee her own safety, especially in a situation like this… But she feels like an animal trapped in a cage, and as fear turns to dread turns to fury, she knows it’s only a matter of time before she has to strike out. Her name is V and she became a feared merc in Night City for a reason. It’s time she remembered that… She’s going to leave Takemura with his bullshit entrapment and Arasaka with their bullshit everything in a pile of dust and Net code.

So does she still feel terrible? Yes. Is this is all fucked up beyond reasonable doubt? Absolutely.

But V’s not a quitter. She just needs a little rest and a new eye optic. Everything else can be figured out - with Judy by her side, of course. She’s not going to let anyone take away her little piece of nirvana.

“I promise.” V says. She doesn’t know if Judy believes it but there’s a subtle something - relief, perhaps? - in her expression that gives V a little bit of hope she does.

“And Jude?” She continues, tilting her head slightly so she can meet Judy’s gaze once more. “I love you too.”

For the first time that night, Judy smiles.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 3 months ago

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Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 7]

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 22,759

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Or, you can read the current chapter below!

As it turns out, having a practice run may have not been so useful after all.

“You have made alterations to my code.”

V loads into the net, finding herself standing in a bright, sterile looking room. She blinks rapidly, wanting to acclimatise as quickly as possible, but finds herself feeling slightly off kilter. The infrastructure itself feels familiar: static and leering, but something just feels slightly different to the test. V’s not sure - but there’s no time to think; no moment to catch her breath; no time to adjust to the feeling of code warping around her head. Just blinding lights and a grunted accusation thrown her way. Time to hit the metaphorical ground running.

At least she knows she’s in the right place. “It’s called bein’ fuckin’ prepared.” V hits back with a venomous bite. The snarky response pulls from her throat before she can even think, her time-softened persona taking an instant backseat the moment her eyes flit upwards to see the Arasaka branded space.

Her heart quickens slightly at the sight of it. It feels odd, seeing as her physical body doesn’t exist with her here.

She takes a steadying breath (not that breathing is even necessary), and her eyes fall then to Takemura. It’s him, alright… The new version of him, at least. The same tired look, dramatic cybernetic makeover; right down to his typical cross armed pose. Takemura through and through. V would think he’d look more comfortable in a space of his own choosing, but even here, there’s a distinct discomfort to him.

But frankly, that’s none of her concern.

Takemura stares V down. “Tell me what you have done.”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out Goro.” V replies. She steps towards him, taking a seat at the modern desk set in the middle of the room. Typical Arasaka looking fare, much like the rest of the decoration. It’s sparsely decorated in general - with not much beyond the desk, a few plants, and a small area with two couches and a coffee table. Perhaps the kind of place a “lucky” middle manager would find themselves in their pitiful Corpo career. V can even imagine the icy cold air conditioning; the way it would probably be slightly too cold all the time. She shudders, remembering her own experiences in Arasaka tower.

In typical corpo fashion it feels entirely lifeless, obviously not helped by the fact it’s just a digital reconstruction of such a space. V thinks someone like Takemura would be more traditional. If it’s just a digital box and a bit of code, surely he’d make something more akin to his interests… Why would he choose something like this?

Did he choose it? Or is he hiding something?

An echo of a response from Carol trails through V’s mind. She says it’s a good question, and V agrees.

Takemura works his jaw for a moment, his eyes squinting in suspicion. After a moment though, he approaches the desk himself and sits across from V, likely realising there’s no turning back now they’ve gotten this far. He leans forward in the seat, elbows on the desk, fingers tented in a thoughtful gesture. His eyes burn into V’s own.

“You have questions,” he states. “I have answers.”

“Better be good ones.”

“Ask and you will find out.”

This is it. V’s not taking any chances. She needs to know what and she needs to know why, and she needs to know how. She remembers that Goro had mentioned a job to her before; she considers asking about that first… or maybe she should ask how he’s even here? By all accounts, she still has no word on how he’s even alive - if he is alive; if he’s even himself…

Maybe an explanation first, then they can get down to business. She’d like to know if she’s working with a ghost or not.

“Tell me how you’re here; why we’re talkin’ in cyberspace.”

Takemura’s jaw tightens. Clearly not the initial enquiry he’d been expecting. He glances down at the desk, avoiding V’s gaze. “As I have told you, I am Arasaka’s prisoner,” he says, a deep sigh following. “But perhaps I should explain further… Arasaka took my body after I ended my own life. They refused me the resolution of death; turned me into this creature.”

He pauses. His face screws up slightly.

Takemura’s voice turns to a low growl, “they have dishonoured me… and now, I am their slave. I do not know their goals, but I am stuck here, in the net. A cruel purgatory.”

Takemura glances back up at V. She’s not sure what to make of it. He seems sincere enough; angry enough, even, for it to be genuine. For all the righteous frustration she feels towards him due to their past, V admits to herself that - if he’s telling the truth - he has been truly been fucked over. No wonder he’s so angry. After all she’s learned about Arasaka over the years, it doesn’t surprise her to learn they may be keeping ex-employees as cyber-prisoners. By all means they could just flatline them; make them disappear - but this… this gives them control. It’s more depraved and fitting of a corp like them.

However, just because V thinks it’s fucked up, doesn’t mean she’s ready to start handing out sympathy. Arasaka have fucked with both of them, but that doesn’t mean they’re siblings in arms. She might be curious, but she’s not a gonk providing charity.

“Arasaka is desperate…” Takemura adds. “There are more like me, I believe. They are using us for something.”

Desperate. V doesn’t like the sound of that. Desperate corps will do anything to survive. “Great sob story. Where do I come into this?”

V feels a crackle of static in her ear; a slight discomfort that pulses from her head and into her chest. Carol’s voice floats through her head again, warning of elevated cortisol levels - something about the code putting a lot of stress on her brain wiring.

‘Course I’m fuckin’ stressed. You seen what I’m dealin’ with?

Carol ignores her snark, instead warning that she needs to be faster. She might not have as much time as they first figured. That’s the last thing V wants to hear. They literally tested this code, how can it suddenly be causing issues?

She still needs those answers…

“I don’t got all day,” V snaps at Takemura. “How are you doin’ whatever this is? Why did you come find me?!”

Takemura takes a second to mull over his words. This is time she doesn’t have if Carol’s words are true. The slight ache in her chest continues to burn. Finally, he speaks, “Someone found me. She taught me how to manipulate the Net; how to hide my actions from Arasaka.”

V looks at him blankly.

…She?

V scowls then. Takemura met someone in cyberspace? Who knows how to manipulate it? And he himself just so coincidentally happens to be ex-Arasaka…

Now, V doesn’t consider herself to be the smartest person in the world - Hell, in the standard room of her friends, she might not even be in the top 5… But she knows a thing or two. Firstly, there’s no such thing as a coincidence, not when it comes to the net, but also, there is one “person” out there who would do just about anything to have access to Arasaka and their resources.

Alt.

It has to be Alt. V’s not sure how but she can just feel it. With all that data she took upon herself during the storming of Arasaka Tower, there’s no way she’s not putting feelers out; noticing everything and everyone that dares to exist within cyberspace. V can’t quite quantify it, but she knows Alt has become one of the most powerful “beings” the Net has ever known. There’s no way she’s just hiding entirely behind the Blackwall. She has to be everywhere. She would know Takemura was here, even with all the clever code and sneaky netrunning tech built into the coding that keeps him stuck here… And of course, only Alt would know how to turn that on its head; make it into something he could use for his own use.

It makes so much sense, and yet V hopes she’s wrong.

V’s not sure how to feel, to be honest. If she’s right then it’s bitterly laughable, almost, that somehow this is where she’s ended up again. With Alt, Takemura, and Arasaka shit taking up way more space in her head than she cares for.

Fuck, Goro could be in deep shit if he’s messin’ with AI… ‘specially Alt…

V hears a mumble from Carol, then a few more voices - Panam and Judy - in the background. They don’t sound all too happy about this information.

Wait- Don’t know the actual detes yet. Hang on.

V tunes their voices out. She needs to know before she draws any conclusions. Last thing she needs to be is a gonk assuming random shit. That’s how she ends up with the plug pulled and all of them screwed.

“This woman… She called Alt?” V asks, playing it cool. “I know her.”

Takemura nods, “Yes. We spoke of you. It is because of her that I am here.”

Of fuckin’ course.

“Now that Arasaka is on its knees and I am no longer interested in protecting them, this Alt suggests we can be the final… What is the phrase? Nail in the coffin.”

Of. Fuckin’. ‘Course.

So that’s it. That’s what Takemura and Alt want. How convenient that their goals have so suddenly aligned. V should’ve guessed: one last job to take Arasaka down for good. It adds up almost poetically, much to V’s dismay…

This isn’t - can’t be - her job to take on. There’s too many coincidences; too much shared history… and frankly, it’s not her fucking problem. Yes, Takemura’s story is truly tragic but she did her part already; took on the risk; nearly died a second and third time for the privilege of doing so. V can respect the gall somewhat, but there’s nothing on this Godless planet that would make her risk her life one more time for-

“We will need to help eachother. If you do not participate, Arasaka will find you.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

That single sentence changes everything. That sounded like a threat… Like a real, bonafide, God damn threat. V had already thought of her excuses to leave, but that melts away instantly, and all she sees is red. Rage surges through her like a flash flood.

No one threatens her.

No one is allowed to do that anymore.

She has not come this far, handled this much bullshit, and lived to tell the tale - all for it to be threatened by someone with less autonomy than a SCSM. Doesn’t matter what netrunning power Alt has imbued him with, V refuses to let this stand.

She jumps up from the desk, leering over him. “Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare,” she spits. “You tryna scare me? Tryna make me help by freakin’ me out? Maybe you think I’ve gone soft but I swear-”

“-You will find that I am the only reason Arasaka has not found you yet!” Takemura barks back at her. His face thinly veils his own frustration, but he pulls it back, taking a pause before he continues in the wake of V’s confused silence, “I used Alt’s help to protect you from their tracking.”

V’s words die in her throat.

Despite being in cyberspace, V can feel the vein in her forehead throbbing. Her chest aches like there’s a fire smouldering in her lungs. She’s angry, shocked, surprised - too many things to describe. The twists just keep on coming. This isn’t fucking fair. She slams her fist into the desk, turns on her heel and walks away. It’s not satisfying; there’s no physical sensation to ground her. It feels warranted all the same.

This is exhausting. “You are this close to me leavin’, Goro,” she growls. “Pick your next words carefully.”

V hears a vague mumble that she should just leave anyway. That this isn’t worth her time. V ignores it. She just needs to hear what he wants. She’s riled up and pissed off, but her curiosity is now screaming louder than anything.

There’s another thoughtful silence.

“I apologise. I will explain exactly what I called you here for.”

V doesn’t move from her spot, but she turns her head towards him.

“I need you to kill me,” he says plainly. It’s so matter of fact that it takes a second for V to even register what he’s saying. “I need you to visit my physical body so that I can be released from this prison, then Alt can destroy Arasaka from the inside for good.”

V faces Goro now. She can’t quite believe what she’s hearing.

“If you help, we will make sure Arasaka never finds you again.”

Ah. Of course.

There’s the fuckin’ deal.

V stares at him. She can feel the thrum of her heart, and the uncomfortable churn of her stomach from outside the digital space. The full story is finally laid bare and it’s a sorry state of affairs: Goro undead, now a prisoner in The Net. Arasaka bullshit as usual. Alt’s sudden (and convenient) involvement… and now it's brought V's doorstep.

The mission requested: Kill Takemura. Let Alt rain havoc.

The reward: True freedom, supposedly. No more having to be careful.

A deal with the devil. Not the first time she’s been offered such a thing.

It sounds insane and way too good to be true, but the concept of absolute liberation puts a flutter in V’s chest that almost (and only almost) makes her forget her frustration. In fact, it stops V in her metaphorical tracks. After all the trepidation, all the wondering and deliberation of the last few days, it’s perhaps one of the few things she hadn’t considered - that the shitty black hole she’s being sucked into would actually have something waiting for her on the other side.

It creates something tumultuous inside her. The proposition itself angers her: the fact she’s been derailed from her perfectly good life for the sake of someone she owes nothing to… But in front of her eyes a carrot on a stick has been dangled, and it’s one she truly cannot ignore. She wishes she could.

For all his flaws, in their past lives, Takemura was a man of his word. Despite the loathing she has grown towards him, V really has no reason to believe otherwise now… But after what she’s learned - after what Arasaka has supposedly done to him, or what Alt has done to him - is it so wise to keep listening?

Better yet, is this something she could even do? She left behind being a merc for a reason, and she promised Judy that was behind them… but now, here she is, staring down the barrel of being a pawn in another chess match. Finger almost itching on her own trigger.

It’s a lot to think about. Too much, maybe. V shuts her eyes; shuts out every stimulus she can. How can she even consider this… but also, how can she not? It sounds crazy, but it feels crazier to not believe that Arasaka is still out there looking for them. But then, it hits her. Like a full on uppercut to the jaw. There is - in fact - no point in this back and forward. It doesn’t matter what she says; what she thinks. V realises that Takemura actually holds all the cards here. If she doesn’t help, nothing really changes for him… but, if Takemura isn’t bullshitting about preventing Arasaka from tracking her and Judy, then-

It would mean V has no choice.

Shit.

“And… what if I say no?”

Takemura’s expression sobers. He only confirms what V suddenly dreads. “Then they will find you.”

There’s no temperature here, but V feels her blood run cold. She stares at Takemura. Takemura returns with a steely gaze. “I can only mask you so long. They will figure it out soon enough.”

“You’re lying.”

“I have no reason to lie to you, V.”

V remains still. She doesn’t know what to say. Does she truly believe it? If she does, then she’s trapped. Takemura has trapped her by “saving” her, all without her even knowing. She can’t tell what she’s feeling - something between fury, despair, and a growing ominous fear.

After everything she and Judy have gone through… All their efforts may turn out to be a waste. Could it really be true - that their running was futile? That their only true escape is for V to go running back into the fray?

Or is this just a trick?

V doesn’t want to lose her nerve, but her body feels like it’s about to black out. Even as nothing more than a digital replica of herself, she can feel the void in her chest, the panicked tick of her heart.

Trapped… Trapped. We’re fuckin’ trapped.

This is all gone wrong faster than she could've ever anticipated.

Judy’s voice pushes into her mind, telling her they’re preparing the emergency exit. She says it’s all too risky, and Carol agrees. V argues back, urging for just a little more time, but it falls upon deaf ears.

They’re going to rip her before she can even get her head on straight to get it figured. Shit.

“Goro.” V says sharply, pulling herself together just enough to speak. “Somethin’ is about to happen, somethin’ I can’t control.”

Takemura raises a brow. He does not seem impressed.

V continues, “Give me some time. I hate every fuckin’ thing about this, but if you’re not shittin’ me then…”

She can’t say it. She hates this. Hates every single word.

“You would be wise to take the job,” Takemura advises. “You have 48 hours to decide.”

V feels a sudden shortness of breath and a wave of dizziness. Her heart continues to pound. Is this the exit code? It can’t be. It didn’t feel this way before…

The digital world around her loses focus for a split second and V is almost certain she catches a glimpse of concern in Takemura’s expression as her feet slip from underneath her. He doesn’t move - but then again, nothing does. Except it all does. Freezing in place yet warping and contorting as Carol’s daemon flushes into the system.

V can’t do anything suddenly. Can’t reply to Takemura; can’t move, can’t even seem to gasp for a breath. Her thoughts are a mess - blurry, disorganised; faint. This doesn’t feel right. The daemon is doing its job but there’s something else…

The office space splinters and fractures into digital artefacts. Takemura’s avatar fizzles away into nothing. Then it’s just V, confused and dazed, staring up as the code around her own digitised self works away.

V can feel a fire somewhere inside her. Burning hot; poking at her lungs.

There’s a pan flash of worried voices.

The digital space shatters and warps away into nothing.

V sees starlight.

Then nothing.

x-x-x-x-x-x

A/N:

Hello, what a joyful and happy chapter, amiright? :)))

Just a heads up, I'm going to start taking a little longer on chapters now. I'm finding that weekly posting (or close to weekly) isn't sustainable for me, and I really love this story, so I'm going to take it a little slower.

Thanks for reading, and uh... sorry about... all that <3 xoxo

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

0 notes

sharpen-your-hatchet · 4 months ago

Text

Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 6]

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 19,570

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Or, you can read the chapter below:

A/N:

Hello hello! My apologies this chapter took a little longer than usual. I'm trying to stick with weekly posting, but I've been sick the past few weeks and it's been a bit of a struggle :')

I'm doing better now, so I can knuckle down with writing again.

Thanks for reading!

x-x-x-x-x-x

The sun rises on another day.

V awakes with a startle, unaware she had fallen asleep to begin with. It’s a warm, pleasant morning; earlier than V would usually awake, but the Aldecaldo’s camp is already bustling with activity. There’s a rumble of voices, the clatter of tools, and the pleasant hum of music. V yawns and groans, feeling somewhat disoriented at how suddenly she wakes. Clearly being in a decently soundproofed apartment has spoiled her…

Not to mention the fact she barely remembers at what point she and Judy got to sleep. They’d cuddled up after their conversation the night before, and clearly at some point between one moment of sweet nothings and the next, they’d both fallen victim to their own exhaustion.

Judy’s already gone from the bed but when V turns over, she’s met with a warm cup of coffee on the barrel sidetable. V picks it up and takes a grateful sip. It’s fresh - better than anything you’d ever find in any city. Sense of family aside, the coffee might be one of the things she misses the most about the nomads when they’re not around.

Though right now, what she misses is her girlfriend in bed with her.

She’ll go find Judy soon. V’s giving herself a moment to let the sleep fog dissipate first. She’s working with a little less brain matter than most people, so she needs the extra time - at least, that’s the excuse she gives. A little extra rest never goes amiss. V grabs the phone from the side and gives it a bleary eyed glance. Still nothing more from Takemura - though, it’s unsurprising at this point. He said what he meant and meant what he said.

On the bright side, at least his instructions were clear. If there’s one thing V hated back when she did merc work, it was figuring out some gonk cryptic clues..

Alright. Time to get to work.

Considering what she and Judy got up to the night prior, V decides to beeline for the showers and quickly clean up. As most of the other nomads have already started on their work for the day, it’s a thankfully quiet affair, and V even gets a few minutes of lukewarm water - which is incredibly lucky given the set up they’re working with.

Once she’s showered, V quickly shoves on an outfit from the pile of clothing Judy had packed her, then makes her way over to Carol’s tent. She’s fortunate to find Judy there already. She’s hunched over a laptop, frowning at the screen as Carol directs her. There’s numerous other screens and machines all gathered around them too, each displaying different information and code. It’s quite the display. V can’t be 100% sure what they’re working on, since they’re muttering at eachother in Spanish, but it’s not exactly hard to guess and considering how tense they sound, it adds up pretty quickly - especially once her cyberware translator starts to kick in.

“You see? It’s some sort of flag. If the check fails, the whole code basically self-destructs.”

“Shit…You ever seen anythin’ like it?”

“A few times, but not built like this. Arasaka rats have been busy.”

They continue their back and forth until V clears her throat, causing both of them to snap their heads in V’s direction.

“Oh, hey V!” Judy’s expression brightens.

“Hey,” V replies, offering a smile in Judy’s direction. Stepping further into the tent, she can see Takemura’s code on the screen and on the desk what looks like a bunch of scribbled out code on a notepad. Looks like Judy decided to get the jump on figuring it out, and got Carol on board to boot… V is a little surprised, actually. She knows Judy agreed to let her follow through on the Takemura thing, but hadn’t expected Judy to take the initiative considering her back-and-forth hesitance.

Although on second thought, striving for some sort of agency in a situation that’s otherwise a little rough around the edges is a very her thing to do. After all Judy’s witnessed without getting any say, it makes sense...So, V decides she’s better off not questioning it. She’ll just be silently grateful to not have to approach Carol herself.

“Looks like you girls have been busy?” V queries.

“Busy. Confused. Tested. All of the above,” comes Carol’s biting reply. Despite it, she doesn’t actually look all that annoyed - All bark and no bite, if anything. “I’ll hand it to your mainline though, she’s relentless.” If V didn’t know better, she’d say that was almost a compliment… but only almost - which is about as close as you’ll get from someone like Carol.

“If V says she needs to do this, then I just want to make sure we’re doin’ it safe.” Judy chimes in, as she turns back to the laptop screen and begins to type again. “Carol’s got our patches runnin’ in an offline environment so we can test workarounds.”

V’s not just surprised, but now impressed. This is some real high-tech work. They must’ve been working on this for hours…

“It’s not like I had much choice. Panam told me to help, and at least your novia here kind of knows what she’s doing.”

“You’re damn right she does.” V replies, leaning down to look at the computer screen and to sneak a kiss against Judy’s cheek. “So what’s the detes so far?”

Carol turns to another computer and taps away, sighing at the display of affection before her, “This is modified netrunning code. Routes to a masked net address. It’s got Arasaka markers all over it, because those demonios are too damn proud to not stick their ugly branding everywhere. Otherwise it looks like a standard cyberspace meeting room, but I don’t trust it.”

It just about confirms what V was expecting. It doesn’t sound like anything inherently evil (though, it’s Arasaka property so the jury is still out on that), but it’s definitely not good either. Considering Carol’s final words about a meeting room, it seems Judy has also made it clear this code has to go inside her head… So, that’s another difficulty broached at least. V would say that’s an explanation for Carol’s mood, but being skeptical and generally cautious is sort of Carol’s whole thing. The Aldecaldos would probably be zeroed a hundred times over if it wasn’t for her caution.

Still, V hopes the caution won't be cause to call the whole thing off. “And…?”

“We’re almost there,” Judy affirms. She grabs a cable attached to Carol’s computer and jacks it into her own, “Just figurin’ out how we can hide the daemon Carol’s modded.”

“They’re not the only ones who know a thing or two about hiding your tracks.”

V takes a step back to look at their whole set up. It’s hard to believe they got it figured out so quickly. She’s not sure what she expected - though, knowing her luck, it was teetering towards the ‘everything is fucked’ end of the spectrum - but it looks like they’ve truly got it handled between them. It feels too easy, like getting to this point should’ve taken at least five more hurdles. Sure there’s already been a few: V got her holo hacked, then got trapped in a BD, then had to get Judy on board with following through, then get Panam on board, then get Judy on board a second time… but now she’s at this step, V feels like it should’ve been way harder. Maybe in her prior life, she was just too used to going the extra mile then still taking on another five.

Fuck, was the merc life really that bad? Huh… guess it was…

V isn’t about to rest on her laurels, though. She can’t let them do all the work. “Anythin’ I can do to help?” She asks.

Judy and Carol both turn to look at her. Carol then glances at a netrunning chair that’s been set up in the corner of the tent. “Well, neither of us are stupid enough to be the test subject.”

x-x-x-x-x-x

V loads into the localised net.

Her consciousness contorts into the false reality around her - A testing room for the code Carol and Judy have been crafting. Her eyes feel as though they have just opened without actually ever closing at all. It’s a dark, featureless space, with an endless void stretching out in all directions. Incredibly minimalist, perhaps to a fault. V’s been in the net before; had her mind gaslit by code into accepting virtual reality as real… but never has she found herself standing within the pitch black; stomach lurching slightly at the empty pit below her.

Of all the places they could’ve chosen for a test room… Fuckin’ shit.

It’s wholly disorientating. This test code lacks the creature comforts of her previous guinea pig experiences - and if they weren’t so comfortable, she at least got drugs to make it bearable. Unfortunately, she’s not exactly in the position to request such a thing.

“You can speak to us through your thoughts.” Echoes Carol’s voice through her head. It feels like an intrusive thought - almost like Johnny used to, but not quite. It’s certainly less annoying and less my-brain-is-dying in nature. In any case, it’s not a feeling that V particularly likes nor she cares to get used to once again. Hopefully it only needs to be used this time and then again when she talks to Takemura. “The black box is just a test environment I’ve routed the code to.”

Could’a given me a couch or somethin’

“No.”

V takes a few uncertain steps, relieved that - thankfully - there is in fact a floor here. It’s just invisible and she can’t see where it ends. Which is…Great. She looks around, but it’s empty in all directions. It’s a bizarre space; unlike anything V’s ever experienced in cyberspace before. Though it feels stable, there’s an eerie feeling that she’s being watched, and she’s certainly not a fan of it.

Feels like I’m bein’ spied on from every angle.

“That’ll be the Arasaka code. Fortunately for us we’re running this locally, so there’s no spying eyes except me and Judy. That’s what we’re trying to work around for your escape route.”

V understands now - Carol’s caution, that is. She couldn’t understand the code the way Carol could, but she can sure feel it. Like eyes lurking in the shadow, scraping up any bit of data they can. God knows what Takemura must be doing with code like this. This has to be well beyond his capabilities. Last V knew he couldn’t even figure out how to do a basic search query… It makes no sense.

V sits down, then lays on her back and stares up into the void. She’s glad to be experiencing this prior to her actual meeting, but it only brings up more questions. All the communications, the texts, his behaviour during the hijacked BD - it’s all undeniably Takemura… but everything else feels like a different person entirely. Maybe he isn’t working alone?

V continues to look off into the darkness. She should probably probe about this ‘escape route’. The comms have gone quiet but she figures they must be tweaking stuff. What’s this preem plan you’ve come up with?

After a second, Carol pipes up, “We inject your port with a dameon that emulates something trying to copy the Arasaka code. Triggers the ICE. You're cut loose and the rest of the code buries itself to hide its tracks.”

Now that’s one of the craziest self-defence mechanisms V’s heard of in a while. So, we're usin’ its own “camouflage” against it?

“More or less. It's Arasaka netrunning, and it doesn't want to be copied. Nothing more corpo than protecting your intellectual property.”

V can’t quite believe it. Usually corpo netrunning is violent - happy to brute force through any issue and flatline any gonk in their way. This code is different: It runs.That's… Fuckin’ hilarious, actually.

“Well I'm glad one of us is amused.”

V stands back up and takes a few steps. She looks around, as if trying to track the invisible eyes that follow her. Makes me wonder what else they’re usin’ this code for…

“I don’t want to find out,” Carol sounds stern at even the suggestion. There’s a slight pause, then V feels a pulse. “Okay, injecting the daemon.”

It’s eerily quiet for a moment. V’s left to stare into the darkness, with nothing to keep her company except her thoughts… She feels pretty okay, all things considered. Judy did her a real solid making sure the code got to Carol before she had to ask herself. No doubt this wouldn’t have gone half as smoothly otherwise. She’ll get a private thank you when there’s a moment to spare, that’s for certain.

Alright, so what-

V doesn’t get another word in before she’s knocked off her feet. The void that contains her shakes violently; the ground underneath contorts like something wounded. There’s no external noise, but V’s head is filled with harsh static. She groans. It’s so loud. V clutches her head and pulls herself to her feet. She gets a look at the darkness, only to find it’s darkness no more, but thousands upon thousands of splintering fractures that only divide more by the second, with a threatening red light seeping from the cracks.

This is nothing like the net V’s ever seen before. Something about it feels almost organic - which is the furthest thing the net can be. The feeling of the watching eyes turns to that of a scurrying animal - caught in headlights, and now ready to bolt. She feels something tugging away; retreating deeper into the depths.

Then the static gets louder.

And louder.

Then with a gasp, V finds herself standing in the middle of Carol’s tent.

Judy’s at her side immediately. Her hands come to V’s arms, holding her steady, with concern lacing into her brow. V doesn’t know what to say. It was so sudden, like being forcibly ejected from a moving vehicle. Rationally, she knows what happened; knows she’s safe; knows that the Arasaka code and the daemon did only as intended… but fuck. She kind of hates that she may have to experience it all over again. That felt fucking awful.

V takes a steadying breath. “Fuckin’ nova.” She husks out, replying to the question before it’s even asked. “Code works.”

Judy continues to look at her for a moment. Her thumbs rub up and down V’s arm, a welcome tenderness amongst the way V’s brain is still reeling from being chucked out of cyberspace. V brings her hand to the back of her head, rubbing at the slight warm tenderness where she had yanked herself out of the netrunning chair. That’s definitely going to feel sore for a moment.

To the side, she can see Carol watching; quietly assessing the outcome. “Hm. It’s not pretty… but it will do.”

“Could’a warned me it would feel like gettin’ thrown off a cliff.”

Carol turns away and types a few alterations into the code. “How was I supposed to know? . ”

V doesn’t humour replying. She shakes her head, trying to shift the ringing in her ears before stepping away from Judy, and ambling outside the tent and into sun. After the darkness of the net, the warmth against her skin feels divine - reminds her briefly of the very reason they’re going through all these hoops to begin with.

Freedom. The sun on her face. Judy by her side.

She takes a few deep breaths. Everything feels a little askew, but that’s probably to be expected. She won’t be forgetting that experience any time soon. If anything, that’s for the better - she needs to remember every detail so she can handle Takemura efficiently. If she’s going to do a gonk thing, she’s going to do a gonk thing well… and after experiencing that, a gonk thing it certainly is.

But for how fucked up the test enviroment felt, V can’t deny Carol and Judy came up with some preem code. It works and that’s more than she could really ask for. She might even dare to feel a little bit confident. Although, she probably shouldn’t get ahead of herself.

Judy joins her outside after a moment, arms slipping around V’s waist as she cuddles into her back. “You’re okay, right?” The question is sincere, laced slightly with a bit of concern.

V hums, wondering how much she should give away. Her head is slightly reeling; her stomach a little queasy - but she’s fine. Fine enough, anyway. “‘Course,” V decides as her response. “You ‘n’ Carol killed it.”

“But how are you? You looked lost for a moment there.”

You could say that again

“Jus’ a lil’ disoriented,” V responds cooly. “But considerin’ it was untested code, I think that’s the best we could’a asked for.”

“You sure you’re good?”

V looks over her shoulder at Judy and offers an affirming smile. “Promise.”

They stand quiet for a moment, enjoying the sun and the gentle breeze. If it wasn’t for the looming task ahead it would actually be a near perfect day. Weather’s nice, the Aldecaldos all seem in good spirits; even Panam can be seen across the way with a smile on her face as she chats away with Mitch. V decides (at least for now) she can’t dwell too much on what if’s and maybe’s. She can still enjoy today, she just needs to get on with the task at hand and then there’ll still be plenty more hours in the day.

Text Goro . Get Answers. Delta.

She pulls the phone from her pocket. Despite feeling better about their odds, it still feels somehow heavy in her hand. She ignores the feeling and unlocks the device. With one hand over Judy’s and the other on the phone, V taps out a quick message.

[V: I’m ready.]

[V: It’s time you give me some answers.]

Judy watches in silence, only giving V’s hand a gentle squeeze once the message is sent, before she tugs on V’s hand as she begins towards the fray of nomads congregated around a campfire. V catches Carol’s eye from within the tent as she’s led away but Carol offers no argument, and in fact offers a gentle shoo-ing motion that tells V she’s free to leave her alone. It’s not surprising - Carol prefers to tweak and tinker alone. She’s been gracious enough to work with Judy all of this morning, so she likely just needs some time to work some last minute magic, and V is not one to question or query her work. She’s seen what Carol can do… And for all the attitude she has, there’s not many techies like her around.

Besides, V can smell food and she is - unsurprisingly - famished. Judy too, judging from the sudden growl of her stomach as they approach the cooking station. She and Judy collect some breakfast with only a couple of joking comments about missing them during dinner the night before. To be expected, of course; there’s not many reasons for folks to miss out on dinner around here, considering how far they are from regular society. V and Judy humour them, but quickly slink away to their own bench.

They settle down and are joined by Panam minutes later. She wears a knowing smile, but says nothing. V is silently grateful. This is a lot less teasing than she had expected… Although considering the circumstances, perhaps it’s not so surprising, especially from Panam.

“You and Carol have been busy this morning.” Panam says instead, pointing her head towards Judy. “V showed me the code yesterday. Have you figured it out?”

Panam’s tone is unreadable. Though there’s a light smile on her face, it certainly doesn’t match the jovial mood she seemed in not long ago. She doesn’t sound any sort of way about the plans that she knows are underway, but knowing how agitated she seemed yesterday, V is unsure whether this is a good thing or not.

As if I didn’t have enough fuckin’ reasons to tread carefully .

Judy nods inbetween bites of her food. “We made it as safe as somethin’ like this could ever be.”

Panam takes time with her next few mouthfuls, her expression thoughtful. After a moment though, she takes a breath and nods (though, it seems to herself if anything). V can see a flicker of something in her expression - a tension; repressed, but clearly there. Despite improving over her tenure as clan leader, she’s still not quite mastered hiding her feelings… She’s a book easily read but frankly, she never promised to mask them in the first place, and it is well established she has concerns.

“So when is this happening?”

V pulls the phone from her pocket and places it on the table. “Soon as I hear somethin.’”

Panam glances at the phone before she returns to her food. It seems she’s at least choosing to keep her thoughts to herself.

As luck would have it, no more than a few minutes later, as they idly chatter about anything else whilst they eat, the phone trills with a notification. A single noise and vibration telling V all she needs to know. A small surge of adrenaline shivers through her veins. She holds her hand over the device for a second before she picks it up. Judy and Panam watch in silence.

[Takemura: Very well.]

A simple answer. Unsurprising.

V pockets the phone. She takes one last bite of food before pushing the metal dish away from her. She’s still hungry, but if this little chat ends up like the test run, V neglects to think how it’ll be on a full stomach. She stands from the bench, Judy rising with her.

“Go time?” She asks.

“Yeah,” V replies. “Don’t wanna waste time. You guys finish, I’ll get started with Carol.”

Judy stares for a hesitant moment. V stares back. Something wordless passes between them - trust, faith, and a little encouragement - that brings V to offer a smile. She knows Judy wants to be there, but Judy needs to take care of herself. She can afford to take a few minutes to rest and eat.

V glances to Panam next. “No stressin’, okay? We’ve got this.”

Panam nods, though her expression reads as increasingly tense. V doesn’t blame her, but she just needs everyone to have some faith that it’s all gonna be fine. It has to be fine - V doesn’t exactly have a choice at this point.

She has her questions.

She has code to give her the upper hand.

And, she has the support of her family - tempestuous though it may be.

The last few days have been leading up to this moment. For all its ups and downs, V’s sort of glad it’s finally here. Finally she can stop wondering and find out really what’s going on here. She needs to know what greater implications - if any - are of this whole gonk situation. Hopefully nothing, but deep down, V almost knows that’s not going to be the case… Still, she wants to remain hopeful.

So she walks back to Carol’s tent with a steely, determined gaze. She gets herself hooked up, and though Carol seems her typical skeptical self, there’s a methodical air to her set up and check process that betrays the clear duty of care she feels. V feels safe in her hands; feels safer knowing Judy will be here too shortly.

V settles back into the netrunner chair. Her body thrums with anticipation.

She closes her eyes.

And then, it begins.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 4 months ago

Text

Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 5]

Rating: Mature Current Word Count: 15,627

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Or, you can read the chapter below:

A/N: Hello! As a heads up, this chapter has some sexual content which is heavier in nature than the first chapter. Feel free to skip to the latter half of the chapter for the more "plot-heavy" stuff, if you wish.

x-x-x-x-x-x

V stirs awake to the sound of Judy calling her name.

She groans, stretching and tugging her eyes open to meet Judy perched against the frame of their tent. She’s smiling, eyeing V softly. “C’mon sleepin’ beauty, time to get up. Food’s ready.”

V shakes herself awake and sits up. She’s been knocked out for a few hours, judging from the unpacked bags and low-lying sun that peeks into the tent from where Judy’s pulled back the door flap. With a yawn, V pulls herself up, grabbing the phone off the barrel as she does. She checks the notifications. Nothing new. Takemura really is a man of few words.

“What’s up?”

Judy pads inside the tent, giving them a semblance of privacy. Her arm snakes around V’s waist, cuddling into her side as she glances at the phone herself. V turns her head and presses a kiss to the side of Judy’s head. “Nothin' to worry ‘bout,” V replies. “Texted Goro on this phone. Was hopin’ he might have more to say.”

“Mm, and what did he say?” Despite the serious and actual important nature of the conversation, it doesn’t stop Judy pressing her own kiss in return to V’s jaw, then another to her neck. Just a minute of privacy and they can’t keep their hands off eachother… God they really are a lesbian cliché.

V takes a sharp breath. She suddenly feels a lot more awake. “He uh-” Judy presses another kiss just below the pulse point. “- He… Wants to talk more, in person. Well, kinda in person.”

Judy pauses immediately. She pulls away. “You didn’t agree to it, did you?”

V suddenly regrets saying anything. Not that she shouldn’t be telling Judy - she should, absolutely…but she was enjoying herself. Nothing wakes her up better than the feeling of Judy’s lips against her skin. She meets Judy’s gaze, “Didn’t agree, didn’t disagree. He gave me some detes. Figured it’s best I run it by you and Carol first.”

Judy relaxes. She smiles and presses a kiss to V’s mouth. “You’re sexy when you trust people to help you out, mi vida”

V chases Judy’s lips. She knows she should be focusing, but how can she when Judy’s looking at her like that? Panam’s joking words about inappropriateness echo through her head… but to be honest, V thinks there’s no better time to appreciate what’s right in front of you, than when things might be about to blow up in your face. She kisses Judy, then again, murmuring gently against her lips “It’s good I’ve got you to remind me.”

Judy hums agreeably. Her mouth trails from the corner of V’s own, across the curve of her jaw, whilst her free hand comes up to meet V’s, gently taking the phone from her grip. “So, we’re just talkin’, are we…?”

“You started it,” V teases.

“You know me,” Judy hums, using the excuse of placing the phone back down on the side to bring her lowered hand to the buckle of V’s belt. “When times get tough, a little TLC never hurts.”

V cups the side of Judy’s face. How ironic it is they complained about fucking in a tent mere days ago… only to be very close to fucking in a tent at the first available second. V would laugh if she wasn’t so caught up in the needy ache that emanates from the gentle pressure of Judy’s hands lightly tugging at her belt.

They really should talk.

They really should go to dinner too…

But… It really has been a few days of thinking, pondering over a million possibilities, and quietly concerning over next steps. Besides, it’s not like V can do much more until tomorrow anyway. Well she could run that code by Carol, but she wouldn’t be happy about it this time of day (not that the time of day would make her attitude better in any case). V places her hand over Judy’s and pulls the belt free of its buckle. “Talk about it after?”

V sees desire and mischief light up in Judy’s eyes. “Act like we’re both not secretly worried about the future?” Judy answers back.

They stare at eachother intensely. Silent but understanding. Maybe this isn’t needed… but it kinda is.

Fuck it.

V crashes their lips together, guiding Judy down onto the bed. The kiss is intense, needy, and wet as Judy’s tongue comes to lap at V’s mouth. There’s no words, just pants and quiet desperate noises; the shuffle of body parts and clothing as shirts are tugged off and pants (or dungarees in Judy’s case) are pulled down, before mouths are locked together again. It’s messy but also perfectly coordinated at the same time, V’s hands gliding over the curves of Judy’s body as though they were carved to exist as one. Judy squirms underneath V; leans into every touch. She reciprocates in kind, fingertips settling on V’s thighs as she is straddled.

This is where they stay for a moment. Grinding, kissing, body against body with V oh so gently leading the way. Her mouth is hot on Judy’s jaw; neck; collarbone, then back to her lips once more. Perfect teasing - her reward the scratch of Judy’s nails down her leg. V takes one of her hands. She pulls away from the kiss, gently biting the tip of Judy’s finger before taking the digit into her mouth and sucking on it gently.

“Let’s see what those pretty little fingers can do, baby,” V husks. It’s coming out now, all the pent up tension of the last few days. She feels wild, full of lust; feeling a physical ache at how much she just wants to touch and be touched. She guides Judy’s hand down, over the curve of her own chest, the refined dip of her stomach, then lower still until Judy’s digits are right where she needs them. “Right there,” she affirms gently, kissing her softly.

Judy is mesmerised. Lips parted, she wordlessly obliges and God, do her fingers feel good. A whine pulls from V’s mouth which she muffles with another bruising kiss. She rides Judy’s hand, panting, moaning, hiding each noise with kisses, bites; anything that will keep the noise to a minimum. Judy’s a mess underneath her, breath shuddering and pupils blown wide - she’s crumbling under V’s control and happy to be doing so. She drinks in every ‘slow down’ ‘faster’ and ‘fuck, keep going’, only pausing when V’s mouth does something particularly devilish and her focus is pulled for just a second.

This isn’t making love, gentle and sensual as they have been before. This is needy; begging for purchase against the rug pulled from under their feet.

It is no surprise then that it takes very little time until V is pulled to the edge and thrown over it with a mighty crash. It’s messy and quick, with her grinding against Judy’s hand as it becomes increasingly slick. The release of pressure is perhaps the most cathartic feeling she’s felt in days - like the first sip of water after a day in the desert. It leaves her breathless; wanting - no, needing - more. Whether it’s her or Judy doesn’t matter. “Fuck.” V whispers against Judy’s skin. She settles, laying on top of Judy as she catches her breath. “You’re so good…”

“Just for you, amor ” Judy replies. Her hands - now free - tuck themselves around the underside of V’s thighs, gently massaging the area. V’s brushes her lips up Judy’s neck, kissing her way up to her lips. She kisses Judy once, twice; a third time slower, savouring every second.

From outside, there’s a gentle uproar - loud happy voices; the clank of cups, plates, cutlery. Of course, Judy had mentioned it was about time to eat. Though… V isn’t exactly hungry for food. V brings her hand to cup Judy’s face. Judy looks back at her with heavy, needy eyes.

“Your turn now,” V murmurs, as she trails her mouth back down Judy’s neck. She kisses over Judy’s tattoos, down her chest and stomach, then heads further downwards still. Judy looks down at her. Her chest heaves as she watches. V shuffles and settles down between Judy’s thighs. She takes her time, kissing and biting gently at the soft skin there, preparing herself for the thing she truly is hungry for.

Suffice to say, they won’t be making it to dinner… nor the drinks after.

x-x-x-x-x-x

It’s a couple hours later.

Judy and V lay in bed together. They’re cuddled face to face, bodies aching and satisfied. Despite the slight chill of night, the tent is warm, sweaty - all too telling of their activities. Whether they were heard or not, they’ll find out in the morning. Not that it’ll be hard to guess.

V knows Panam will have something to say. Carol too… but honestly, V doesn’t really give a shit. She feels way more relaxed now; less like her nervous system wants to jump out of her skin to keep chasing every thread of possibility concerning her situation. Judy was right - sometimes a little TLC goes a long way.

Judy nuzzles into the crook of V’s shoulder, humming sweetly. They haven’t talked yet; haven’t yet burst the bubble of tranquility, but V knows it’s time. It never gets easier. “Hey Jude,” she says quietly. “ ‘Bout time we talk, huh?”

Judy hums an acknowledgement.

V reaches over Judy and grabs the phone from the makeshift side table. She turns it on, squinting at the screen in the low light of the room. “Here.”

She hands Judy the phone. It’s probably best if she looks for herself - it’s easier that way. Judy takes a moment, squinting herself as the bright screen burns her eyes. She’s silent as she reads. After a moment, she smirks softly. “You are so aggressive when you text, amor.”

V shrugs. “Only nice to people who deserve it.”

Judy gives her a humouring look. She studies the texts further, clearly having reached the block of code, judging from the furrow of her brow. She looks positively perplexed. “Is this a net address? Carol’s not gonna like this…” She says quietly. “It’s… mierda, what the hell is this?” She turns the phone back to V, underlining parts of the code with her finger. “This is netrunnin’ code, but it’s nothin’ like the kind Carol’s taught me to read.”

“Somethin’ proprietary?” V asks.

Judy sucks on her teeth as she thinks. “Maybe? If this is what he’s usin’, no wonder we couldn’t trace it.”

V takes the phone back and stares at the code herself. It’s uncomfortable staring at it now. She knew her own knowledge wouldn’t be enough - but if Judy’s saying that she can’t read it, and Carol’s not going to be a fan… Well, it spells bad news.

Fuck, Goro’s really putting us in a shit position.

She puts the phone back on the side. “It’s gonna lead me to Goro. You think Carol’s gonna flatline me if I ask her to put that code into my neural port?”

Judy shuffles back to look at V fully. “I’ll zero you myself first. Are you crazy?”

“Thought you said you’d trust me to do what I needed to do?” V tries not to sound defensive, but seemingly fails, judging from the way Judy’s eyes go wide before pulling back into a frown. “V,” she says with a wary tone. “When I said that, I was expecting texts, maybe a call if you were lucky… But this-”

Judy’s mouth clamps shut. V feels it again, that burning in her chest; fierce and protective. She has to press forward - that’s the only way now. If she backs out and leaves Takemura hanging, he’s going to put Arasaka on their trail, she can just feel it. Even if he hasn’t said it. It’s like an invisible threat that just hangs in her peripheral, and she can’t - won’t - let it come to be. “There’s nothin’ else I can do, Jude. I gotta use that code. Hopefully Carol can make sure it’s safe… but if I don’t speak to Goro tomorrow, then there’s nothin’ stoppin’ him from sellin’ us out.”

“He could be lyin’ about Arasaka having him.”

“Maybe, but you didn’t see him. You don’t know how he was chromed up. ‘Saka logos everywhere.”

Judy’s jaw tenses. She looks at V with a fearful angst. V goes to cup her cheek but she swerves out of it. It makes V feel like shit. “I’m sorry- I…” Judy chokes on her words. “I know how it looks; like I’m changin’ my mind every time we talk, but V… You didn’t see you all those months ago. Wasn’t expectin’ laying here would bring those memories back up but it has… You got an unknown medical miracle, he’s got unknown netrunning tech. Y’see what I’m saying?”

V does. She very painfully does. It’s like every turn she takes, there’s an argument for and against this whole thing. She prides herself on being decisive - but she can’t be decisive right now without being selfish, and being selfish is the one thing she cannot be. Maybe in her past life where everything was fleeting… but not now. V doesn’t know what to say. There’s no retort; no solution she can pull out of her ass. Truly the way forward is to do the stupidest, most gonk thing someone in her position could do, and frankly, it sucks.

V sits up. She’s silently grateful they had spent their pent up energy, because she knows if either of them had any, their combined stubbornness would make this whole conversation a lot more explosive. She rubs at her temples gently, sighing. “Feels like there’s no right answers.”

Judy’s silent for a moment. She shuffles closer to V and lays her head on V’s lap. It seems earnest, like an apology for pulling away before. “Feels like there’s no right way to feel.”

V lets out a humouring exhale.

Too fuckin’ right.

“Are you mad?”

V hears Judy take a tense breath. “A little.” She replies.

“At me?”

Another thoughtful pause. “No… but I can’t tell your friend or Arasaka vete a la chingada ”

The flicker of Judy’s snarky spark settles something in V. She knows they’re not out of the woods, but she knows they’ll be okay. V brings her hand to Judy’s head and gently strokes her hair.

They sit there for a while. The camp has died down now; the Aldecaldos having retired to their own tents for the evening. It’s a tranquil quiet but without the drone of the city that V’s grown used to, something about it is a little unsettling. She wants to say something, but doesn’t know what the right words are. Judy's always been better at this than her. She just needs to make it clear they’re on the same team and always will be - that she doesn’t want her impulsive nature to get in the way.

Fuck V, just say somethin’ .

“Look, Judy…” V starts. Her words are slow; deliberate. “Bein’ in this situation is the last thing I want… I’m feelin’ trapped more ‘n more everytime I think about it.”

Judy sits up to look at V. V takes the opportunity to cup her face with her hand, and this time, she doesn’t lean away. “Can you let me do this one gonk thing? Let me talk to Takemura with the code… Then whatever is next, we will make every decision together. I won’t do anythin’ ‘less you’re on board.”

The words come from V’s mouth before she can overthink it. She hopes it’s right; that it’s enough. Her heart thrums in her chest.

Judy’s stare is intense. Her eyes dazzle in the low light of the tent. “You promise?”

“Every step. You ‘n’ me. ”

Judy leans closer to V, lingering for just a moment. Her lips brush V’s own. “Okay,” she whispers, melting into a proper kiss immediately after. V doesn’t know at what point it became their thing to sign promises with a kiss, but she’s not about to complain. The way Judy mouth feels against her own feels deeper than any words they could ever speak. She has Judy, and Judy has her - and V feels certain now that they’re truly aligned. It doesn’t fix the frustration of not knowing what the deal with Takemura is yet; it sure as hell doesn’t fix the unnerving suspicion that things might be about to turn south… but V - at the very least - feels like something in this whole fucked up thing is actually under control.

And with a life like hers, that’s one thing she can’t take for granted.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 4 months ago

Text

Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 4]

Rating: Mature Chapters: 4 (incomplete) Current Word Count: 12,850

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Or, you can start reading below:

“V, you cannot be serious. You must be fucking joking.” Panam wipes her brow with the back of her sleeve as she rises from under her engine hood. She’s frowning, oil splattered face only lending to intensify her glare. V expected this kind of reaction, but God if it doesn’t suck having to go over the shock and frustration for a second time.

Meeting up with Panam was supposed to be a good time. Whilst the Aldecaldos are here on biz, they always put aside at least a couple days - a week or two if lucky - to just hang out, tune up their vehicles, and have some down time. Instead, V’s just marched up to camp, pulled Panam aside and instantly shit over any chance of letting this visit be a normal one… But if anyone deserves to know, it’s the Aldecaldos.

V takes a drag from Judy’s cigarette. They’ve both smoked a lot the last few days. “You think I’d fuckin joke about this, Pan?” She grumbles. V kicks gently at the dirt before leaning back against a stack of cargo, “Spent the last couple days putting so much ICE on our personal network you’d think we’re hidin’ government secrets.”

Judy shuffles over to V and reclaims her cig. Panam looks at them both, then sighs. She grabs a wrench and leans back into the truck.

Keeping her hands busy; exactly what she does when she’s feelin’ antsy.

“And you have not heard anything since?”

“Nope. Couple of network pings but no hack attempts; nothin’ that even resembles a netrunner,” Judy chimes in as she prods at the tablet in her hand. “‘Course I’m an editor techie so I kinda need another pair of eyes on this.”

Panam points her thumb behind her. “Carol should be able to help.”

“Nova,” Judy hums, flashing V a smile before she traipses off.

There’s a heavy silence. Truly, V doesn’t know what to say. What can she say to the person who risked everything to help take down Arasaka? Who watched her family sacrifice themselves, and was left with the responsibility of holding it all together after the smoke cleared? V kind of owes Panam everything, so it’s a little frustrating having to announce that shit may be hitting the fan in the near future.

After a minute, there’s a small clunk from the truck, and Panam drops her wrench to the floor with a frustrated sigh. She emerges from the hood again and takes a step back to compose herself. She pinches the bridge of her nose. V can just tell from her body language it’s taking a lot of effort to not be more visibly upset. “This is really shit news, V.”

V leans down to pick up the wrench and hands it back, “I know, Pan… But I really do think I’m right ‘bout ‘Saka not knowin’’”

Panam takes the wrench. Her eyes narrow as she mulls over her thoughts. She turns back to the engine and leans over it, hovering her wrench over a few common points of failure. She picks one and begins to tighten it, then says “It only takes one thing to come loose, and then you’re up shit creek, and blowing smoke for all to see.”

Metaphors? Really?

V joins Panam at the truck. She looks into the vehicle at the carefully maintained engine - a workhorse piece of machinery that has somehow stood the test of time despite being patched up more than the average chrome jock. The nomads really do know their stuff. Though, V does notice one thing… something that doesn’t necessarily belong on the average stock truck for a nomad driver.

She points at the custom part, hidden slightly under some wiring. “But… some parts are good at staying hidden, so the driver pro’lly wouldn’t even notice if somethin’ changed.”

Panam hits V with a glare. “What are you-”

“- What? Thought I was gonna miss a remote kill switch? ‘Member I come from nomads too..” V keeps her tone light, playful, hoping Panam will be jovial enough to atleast not bite her head off for having a smart ass retort.

It looks like Panam at least considers biting back, from the way she pauses before placing the wrench down again. She crosses her arms. So not in head biting territory, but definitely not happy. “Let us say you are right about this… That “Takemura” is working alone and he really wants your help, and we are not all in immediate danger of Arasaka trying to rain hellfire on us. Then what?”

This is the bit that’s going to make V sound insane. She knows it; Judy knows it - and fuck, Panam will definitely know it in just a minute. Judy’s got a headstrong and snarky streak when there’s a nerve hit (and V is aware the current situation is hitting many nerves), but Panam? Well… Upsetting Panam is like shaking a soda then popping the tab.

V takes a step away to lean against another crate of cargo. She needs to hit the non-chalant act perfectly; make it seem like it’s all under control. “Easy. I talk to Goro, see what he wants, and if it’s easy and has a low chance of us getting fuckin’ flatlined then I do it.”

Panam hits V with a look… and oh, if looks could kill.

V feels her back raise, “Pan I get it, you don’t gotta fuckin’ look at me like that- But what are my options here? Pack up mine and Judy’s life after what I promised her? Keep ignorin’ Takemura until Arasaka does know we’re in Seattle? Or I just talk to the guy and see why he wants my help so fuckin’ bad?”

Panam takes a step back, raising her arms in a silent cry of frustration. She turns away. “You are really testing me today, V. How do you even know it’s really him?”

V pulls her mouth into a line. “I don’t. I don’t know anythin’ but I just wanted you to know, okay? You guys can get your biz done and skip town. Me and Jude will manage.”

Panam turns back. “What are you even suggesting?” She’s looking at V like she’s grown a second head. “We are not turning our backs on you like that.”

“What-”

“I really do not like this, but I will stay and help. We all will.”

A silent understanding passes between them. Of course Panam agrees to help. V shouldn’t have even questioned it. You don’t get involved with a nomad clan unless you’re willing to shed sweat, blood, piss, and tears for your fellow family… But V would be lying if she doesn’t at least feel a little shitty for what might be coming.

Hopefully it’s just a whole lotta nothing. Still, being on guard never hurts.

Judy returns a moment later. She’s a little confused looking, squinting as she goes over the info on the tablet again. “So we looked at the logs…” She starts. “There’s not much to go on. Whatever gear was used, it’s not citizen grade shit. Carol explained it like instead of digging a tunnel and leaving a clear path of where it’s been, it’s sort of digging the tunnel and filling the dirt behind it instantly.”

Now that isn’t a whole lot of nothing at all. That sounds like very abuseable tech. Netrunning that’s fully untraceable? Hacks that are coding a cloak around themselves? Very fucking sneaky… and very Arasaka. “So you’re tellin’ me that Takemura - the guy who could barely figure out texting - was somehow using some secret untrackable netrunnin’ tech?”

“Seems like it.” Judy replies, realising herself how unbelievable it sounds.

V can’t help the exasperated sigh that follows. “This just keeps getting more fuckin’ gonk by the minute.”

Judy offers the tablet to V but she declines to take a look. She won’t understand it, not if it’s something completely unknown even to Carol. Certainly, this makes things a little more complicated; gives V a slight hesitancy at reaching back out to Takemura - who knows what this tech is capable of? If it could hijack V and keep her trapped inside a BD, who’s to say it can’t do way worse? She stares into space as she mulls this over, coming to a moment later. Both Panam and Judy are looking at her expectantly. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

They both exchange a glance. “Well,” Panam pipes up. “This is usually the part where one of us throws caution to the wind and does something dramatic.”

V wrestles with her concern. She pushes off the cargo crates and stares out towards the rest of the camp. This is a lot. It’s not “ Violent removal of narcissist rockerboy engram from your head now meaning you have six months to live” serious but… It’s certainly got V feeling like her back is against a wall. She refuses to back down but it feels like she’s currently staring into a faceless void with no hint of what to actually expect. There’s so many paths - some where there’s zero consequences; some where what remains of Arasaka is busting down their door. How is she supposed to know what leads where?

Too many fuckin’ unknowns. Fuck.

Judy comes up behind her and places a hand on V’s arm. “Hey, I can see your head runnin’ away… Just remember we’ve taken on worse before.”

V continues to stare at the nomad camp. She watches as the various Aldecaldos mingle, helping eachother out carrying cargo; working on their cars… Judy’s right - they’ve taken on worse; lived to tell the tale. V just hates that they’re in this situation again. It’s like if she looks at the group of nomads in just the right light, all she can see is the blood they’ve shed for her. She can’t let that happen again. “No drama today, but we gotta be prepared for anythin’. We keep goin’ forward and assess danger as we go.” V says firmly. She turns back around to face Panam and Judy, “Maybe me and Jude should stay here a couple days. Pro’lly safer than our apartment. You think Carol will mind us usin’ her gear?”

“Of course she will,” Panam says with a shrug. “But I’m the boss.”

V looks at Judy and takes her hand. “You good with this?”

“Stayin’ where we’ve got resources? Definitely,” Judy replies, giving V’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll take your bike and go grab us a few days of clothes; you do what you gotta do, mi amor. ” V offers a smile and with a kiss on her cheek, Judy slips away. Panam looks at V and playfully rolls her eyes, but says nothing before turning back to her vehicle to continue working.

That settles it, then. They’re committing to this - she’s committing to this. Whilst V had said it in the height of anger a few days ago, it feels more solid now; like an actual plan than a suggestion. There’s no time to delay then… she should grab the phone number from her deleted messages, and open up a line of contact. Maybe on one of those old physical phones the nomads keep around just to be safe. Carol should have one.

V bids Panam good luck with her truck, then saunters into the clearing where the nomads have set up camp. The smaller towns and cities on the outskirts of Seattle are near-on abandoned these days, so the forests and nature reserves serve the perfect place for the Aldecaldos when it’s time to pay a visit. It’s beautiful out here; it’s nice to escape the hustle of the city sometimes.

Approaching Carol’s tent, V hits her with a smile and Carol responds with a questioning glare. “And just when I was beginning to think I would have peace for the rest of the day…” Carol tuts, as she then turns back to her computer. “I already told Judy everything I know, hermana .”

V treads into the tent. She leans carefully on Carol’s desk.

Dazzlin’ fuckin’ personality as always.

“Not here to ruin’ your day,” V gets straight to the point. Best way to deal with Carol, frankly. “Just need a burner phone.”

Carol glares at her again. “What do you need a burner phone for? You have a holo.”

“Holo can’t be a burner phone, choom.”

Carol mumbles under her breath in Spanish before reaching into a drawer beside her and sliding an old slab of a phone across to V. V picks it up and turns it over in her hand. God, she’s glad that she has her holo - having to carry around something like this just seems like such a hassle. At least this is just for temporary use.

“Don’t say I never help you.”

V throws Carol some fingerguns, much to her lack of amusement, before she leaves the other woman in peace. V then makes her way across the campsite and slips into Panam’s tent. It’ll be a while before hers and Judy’s is set up - so this is the best option for a modium of privacy. Panam shouldn’t mind… emphasis on “shouldn’t”.

V pulls the phone out of her pocket, then opens up her holo. Navigating into her deleted messages, she scrolls past a few spam texts until she comes upon the deleted messages from earlier in the week. She copies the number over to the handheld then stares at the device for a moment, wondering what to say.

What the hell am I supposed to say to him…

Her thumbs ghost over the keyboard, starting; stopping, unable to decide what’s the best course of action… but then she considers Takemura’s own behaviour; his lack of respect. Why should she be on her best behaviour? It’s not like he was.

Fuck it, she decides, hitting the call button instead.

But alas, no answer.

She figures she should’ve guessed that would happen, but it was worth a shot. She reopens the texting app. Guess it’s time she starts the conversation in the only way she knows how in situations like this.

[V: It’s V. Tell me what the fuck you want.]

She drops down onto Panam’s bed, leaving the phone at her side. She can’t say she’s necessarily nervous about all this, but there’s a certain anticipatory feeling - like her body is thrumming; ready to make a move. Just how she used to feel before a gig. Unfortunately, V can’t say it feels particularly good either.

A few minutes pass. V stares at the ceiling of Panam’s tent.

The phone trills with a notification.

[Takemura: V? This is not your usual number.]

[V: Little precaution after your last trick.]

A typing notification appears, hangs for a second then disappears. Another minute passes.

[Takemura: I understand.]

[Takemura: So you are offering your help?]

[V: Not offering anything. Wanna know what the hell you want first.]

[Takemura: Not over text. In person.]

V stares at the phone… In person? So Takemura is in Seattle? No, that doesn’t make sense…especially if he’s a prisoner of Arasaka like he said.

[V: And how’s that exactly gonna work?]

[Takemura: You must join me again in virtual space.]

Right, The BD… Or, well, whatever he did to the BD wreath to make it a digitised meeting room. A cold chill runs down V’s spine. She’s not a fan of that idea. Not after last time. She’s not taking any chances like that.

[V: You think I’m a gonk? No fucking way. Gotta be another option.]

[Takemura: It is the only safe option. I will send you the details. Contact me tomorrow.]

Takemura then sends through a string of numbers and code. It’s largely unintelligible, but contains some netrunning phrases V vaguely recognises. If she were to wager anything, she’d say it’s some sort of net address, but it’s not like any she’s seen before. She still struggles to believe Takemura of all people is handling this kind of technology. Something just doesn’t add up.

Still, V will at least accept the small victory of knowing she was right about the phone number. Unfortunately, it pales in comparison to the frustration of knowing this is playing directly into Takemura’s hand… She needs to get Carol to look at this code. There’s gotta be some way they can get the upper hand here.

That’s gonna be a great fuckin’ conversation.

V drops the phone by her side and lays back. She sighs.

Panam steps into the tent a moment later. She pauses as she notices V. “V, I understand that this is a stressful moment for us all, but I do not hope this is your attempt to proposition me.” Her words drip with deadpan snark. It’s a little unexpected, but it’s welcome to hear she’s in a brighter mood - V was half certain she’d be getting herself more and more worked up. “It would be highly inappropriate given the circumstances.”

V leans up on her elbows. “Nah, as much as Jude and I had fun the few times that’s happened, we’re pretty happy as a duo. Was jus’ using your tent whilst I got in contact with Goro.”

Panam grabs a towel and slings it over her shoulder. She shifts her weight onto one hip, fidgeting slightly. She’s very clearly not as chill as her words would make out. “So the plan is in motion, then?”

“Sure is,” V replies, holding up the brick phone in her hand. “He wants to talk.”

“So you’re going to meet up with him?”

“Not exactly… Wants to meet in cyberspace again. He sent me some detes.”

Panam frowns. “After what he pulled with the BD wreath? Something about this-”

“- Doesn’t feel right? Yeah. Just ‘bout what I was thinkin’ too.”

They continue to chat. Panam’s much more of a mechanic than tech head, but she understands people at the very least. She thinks it’s strange that a man like Takemura - who V has always described as very traditional - would track V down but not show his face… She surmises that maybe if he is trying to be sneaky, then in-person meetings are risky for them both. Panam compares Arasaka to something from some old book; something about ‘big brother’ always watching. V doesn’t really know what it means, but she does understand the point Panam is trying to make: if Takemura really is hiding something from Arasaka, it’s a lot easier if there’s no physical proof of them meeting… Which makes a lot of sense.

Panam does also make it perfectly clear she thinks V is an idiot for humouring this whole thing, but understands that sometimes it’s either one shit option or another… and it’ll be a shit option she will help navigate regardless. If nothing, V appreciates the honesty (and to be honest, she agrees it’s insane.). She then leaves V after a while to go shower, making a point of saying that her and Judy’s tent should now be ready. V takes the hint gladly.

Upon reaching her own tent, V is quick to kick off her boots, and lay spread across the bed. It’s not quite the luxurious king bed she and Judy share at home, but there’s something grounding about the familiar feel of a nomad tent. It’s been a pretty long day so far and she can feel the lull of sleep tugging at her eyes. A nap would be nice… Takemura hasn’t messaged anything since his last text. V still has a million questions burning in her mind, but it seems pretty obvious he’s only willing to talk in the way he’s requested. So stubborn and typical of a man like him, but there’s no point in thinking too much about it. He said to find him tomorrow - so that’s what she’ll do, as much as the wait is both tedious and annoying. Trying to rush things just leads to mistakes.

V tugs the blanket over her, curling up on her side. With the gentle camp bustle outside, and the warm but pleasant air, V’s asleep in minutes. The last thing she remembers is hearing the gentle roar of a motorbike engine drifting towards camp before the world fades into black.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 4 months ago

Text

Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 3]

Rating: Mature Chapters: 3 (incomplete) Current Word Count: 9484

Read on AO3: 1 - 2 - 3

Or, you can start reading below:

Author's Note: I'm now caught up with what's posted on AO3 - so from now on, I'll be updating as I post there too! Next chapter should be here within a week, thank you for reading!

x-x-x-x-x-x

V awakes with a gasp of breath. Her head aches; her lungs burn. Everything hurts… and yet, nothing hurts at all? It’s like there’s pain there but it’s fuzzy; incomplete. Like someone explained what pain is without really experiencing it. It’s active and passive all at once.

This isn’t right…

V’s head drags upwards and her eyes meet a sight she’d hoped to never see again:

Her megabuilding apartment in Night City. The very shit hole she’d left all that time ago.

No. No no no… This can’t be fuckin’ real.

It isn’t. It can’t be… Wait. The BD… It’s the BD? It has to be something to do with that. V’s brain scrambles to think; it feels like there’s a whole second of lag between one thought and the next. This can’t be Judy’s work? Judy wouldn’t do this. She left most of her footage of NC behind as they toasted to forgetting the damn place. What then…? V’s brain claws at what she remembers before she awoke. Everything was so amazing: the meteor shower, and the warmth; the glow of happiness in Judy’s chest…

Then the voice. The static. The box of code-

Oh fuck.

“Hello V.” Says a disembodied voice. It’s gruff; accented.

V stands, trying to look for its source. “Look I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I am not here to play any fucking games. What did you do to me?”

“You are in no danger. It is quite a simple hijack, perfectly harmless. What you are experiencing may feel real, but it shall take up mere seconds of real world time. We must talk.”

“I’m not saying shit to you.”

There’s a sigh from the disembodied voice. Then with a blip, a hologram phases into existence. If V knew she was using her real lungs right now, she’s pretty sure they’d be breathless. Instead, she finds herself staring with an eerie, ghostly sense of shock.

Takemura.

Except it’s not quite the Goro that V remembers. His face is thinner now; slightly sunken, but somehow younger looking - as though artificially filled and smoothed over… Despite looking more youthful, his eyes say something else: they’re tired; lifeless almost. They’re unblinking and menacing, to an eerie degree. But all those details pale in comparison to the extensive cyberware he seems to have gained - nearing full-body conversion. If it wasn’t for the faceplate and clothing, it’d be hard to identify him. Though, there’s no ignoring the Arasaka logo slapped onto every single piece.

V frowns after taking him in. Takemura is supposed to be dead. One of the caveats of the choices she made all that time ago… she had to screw over someone, and Takemura drew the short straw.

“Perhaps you will say ‘some shit’ now.” Takemura says, his tone stern.

V remains silent. She never saw a body.

“Ah,” He continues. “You are stubborn as ever, like a child.”

V hates this. She wants out. She did her time handling this kind of bullshit. Even with the dawning realisation that those texts from the other day and this event are probably linked; even as the puzzle pieces slot into place, and there’s seemingly some answers here, and more questions popping up by the second - V recognises very suddenly, and very fucking violently that she wants no part in this. Not if it’s him; not if it’s Arasaka.

… Is it Arasaka?!

“You must say something.”

“Got nothin’ to say,” V spits out. “You’re a dead man. I fucked you over, destroyed your employer, then left. End of story. We’re done.”

“Mostly destroyed.” Takemura corrects. He paces around the digitised apartment, finding purchase against one of the walls. “It is true. You were the catalyst of mine and Arasaka’s downfall… But Arasaka had no plans in letting me escape through something so honourable as death.”

“Congratulations.”

Takemura scowls at V. He’s silent for a moment, as if contemplating his choice to be here.

V truly doesn’t understand why or how he’s here; how he found her. If he’s saying he died then did Arasaka resurrect him? Did they have a secret stash of employee engrams laying around? The Takemura she knew could barely use a phone so how is he suddenly hacking into BD wreaths? Those are answers she wants, but not at the cost of her being unwillingly trapped in some BD cyber prison. She almost got trapped by Arasaka before: never again. This isn’t the life she leads anymore.

“I need your help, V.”

V scoffs. “You have some fuckin’ nerve doing this then askin’ for help.”

Goro continues to look at her. He looks frustrated, not that V cares. She starts to walk around the apartment, looking for something; anything, that will let her leave. Force the BD to reboot or something. She knows Judy will be monitoring a BD feeder from the outside so how hasn’t she been able to notice something’s up?

“It is futile to delay V. Please take a seat and we can talk.”

V ignores him regardless. There has to be something she can do… It’s just another layer over a BD, how hard can it be?

There has to be something…

Then it clicks.

BD safeword.

A proprietary feature of Judy’s BD wreath - something she coded in so she could test experimental features without worrying about bugs. Think about the safeword hard enough and whoever is watching you from the outside should see it and be able to pull you out. It’s a - frankly - genius system; a testament to the skill Judy has as a techie. V’s used it herself once or twice, and presumably it’s still active… If it is, then it might be her ticket out. V can only hope this system hasn’t been clocked by whatever Takemura is using right now to hold her hostage.

She just needs to remember what the safeword was…

She looks around her old apartment. Something here has to jog her memory.

“You are as insolent as ever,” Takemura comments.

She keeps looking. Us Cracks poster… Nibbles’ food bowl… Dream catcher from Misty…

C’mon V, don’t be a gonk. Figure it out.

V looks over to Takemura, then her eyes drift to her computer desk. It’s cluttered with mess, as she remembers it always was. Nothing on there that helps.

“V, do not ignore me further. We can help each other.”

Then, V’s eyes spot it. A takeaway container. From the pizza that Judy sent her not long after their first date… What were the toppings… Locust pepperoni? No. V hates that shit.

…

Pineapple. It was tofu-tuna and pineapple.

That’s it. That’s gotta be fucking it.

Staring at the container, V closes her eyes and focuses deeply on the word. Pineapple. She repeats the word in her head. Pineapple. Pineapple. Pineapple. Over and over, making sure there’s no mistaking what she’s trying to project. Judy has to notice. There’s no way she can’t.

“V, what are you doing? There is no time for this,” Takemura’s voice is impatient now. V pays him no mind.

Pineapple. Pineapple. Pineapple. Fuck. Judy. Come on.

V feels the world around her shift and distort. Something is happening. She hears the sound of footsteps as Takemura - presumably - steps towards her. There’s a confused sort of noise from him, and V senses the slightest feather touch of his digitised hand before she’s suddenly thrown into darkness.

Then as quickly as that dark came, follows a blaring white light.

Then they fade and V is met with Judy’s face, screwed up with worry. “V, what happened? Why did you use the safeword?”

x-x-x-x-x-x

It’s an hour after their gift exchange. The air is heavy, and not in a way V likes.

Judy’s out on the balcony. Cigarette in hand, she stares out across Seattle. She’s been silent for the last 30 minutes. It figures. The last thing anyone wants to hear after settling into a new covert life is that it might - in fact - be in jeopardy. Especially when it’s not even their fault.

V watches her with a quiet intensity. Whilst she’d managed to hold it together when telling Judy about what happened with the BD, she’s now stewing in all kinds of feelings that she doesn’t know what to do with. Anger, uncertainty; fear, to some degree too. V doesn’t know what to do with fear. She's been scared before, but this feels different. She's been scared to die; scared to make the wrong choices - but usually, it passes as soon as it comes. But this? It’s bigger than her. It’s about Judy too; the life they’ve been building. V’s never really had something like this to be concerned over before.

This silence is intolerable.

V stands and joins Judy on the balcony. Judy looks at her, offering a drag from her cigarette. V takes it; sucks in the toxic fumes, the nicotine hit helping little to take off the edge. She hands the cigarette back, and Judy offers an empathetic look. At least she doesn’t seem angry.

They stand together in silence for a moment, watching the sun as it begins to dip below the horizon.

“Fuck...” Judy sighs out.

“Yeah…”

“What are we gonna do, V?”

The million eddie question. The one V’s been trying to figure out ever since Judy tore the BD wreath from her head. There’s a hundred different ways to answer, all dependent on variables that V doesn’t know… Is Takemura in Seattle? What was the tech he used to get through their ICE? Was what V saw even Takemura at all? And most importantly… Does the rest of Arasaka know?

Questions. So many god-damn questions. V didn’t want to spend another moment stuck in that cyber prison but fuck, if it wouldn’t help to know a little bit more.

V leans against Judy. “I dunno, Jude… Been thinkin’ about it. Gonna figure it out.”

Judy flicks her cigarette away and takes V’s hand in her own. She stares down. “I really thought we would be done with all this,” she says. Her voice is quiet; scared.

It hits V like a tonne of bricks. “I’m sorry,” is all she can muster.

There’s more silence. More staring at the sunset. Their hand holding turns into a side hug, turns into Judy pulling herself into V and holding her as tight as humanly possible. V doesn’t know what it means, but she cuddles Judy in silence for what seems like forever. If it wasn’t for the sense of impending doom, V would happily stay this way for eternity.

But fate is never so kind as to offer her that kind of nirvana.

Eventually they end up cuddled up on the outside couch. V idly brushes circles against Judy’s arm, and Judy stares into the darkening sky. V wishes she knew what to say; wishes comforting and encouragement came naturally to her… But it doesn’t.

Fortunately, it seems the silence isn’t due to stick.

“We have to delta.”

Unfortunately, what Judy says is not what V wants to hear.

Judy hides it behind a strong resolve, but it’s a suggestion founded in fear. There’s no two ways about it.

“We need to pack up, and get out the fuck of here,” Judy continues. “Panam will be here in a few days. We can link back up with the Aldecaldos… maybe find somewhere on the East coast this time.” By all accounts it makes sense especially coming from Judy. She can fight but she’s not a fighter, and leaving makes escaping any potential shit storm trivial, so long as they leave without a trace. V doesn’t blame Judy for thinking this way, but the very idea of running away again fills her with a level of anger that makes her want to launch their balcony furniture into the grass below.

This can’t be fuckin’ happening.

V’s tired of running. Seattle might not be their forever home, but it’s supposed to be their chance to feel normal.

There’s gotta be another way. V can’t - won’t - accept running.

V sits up slightly. She turns to look at Judy, bringing her hand to cradle the other woman’s cheek. Judy melts into the touch and can’t seem to stop the tears that begin to spill from her eyes. It breaks something inside V. It dawns on her it’s not just anger that burns in her chest but a violent and fierce desire to protect. It’s not something she’s felt in a while; she’s not needed to… But wherever it went it’s now back, and with it the feeling that she will do anything to keep Judy and their future safe.

And fuck… maybe that means having to get involved after all.

Truthfully, the silence between words has given V time to think. She’s already building a running theory; she does believe this is Takemura - he's done worse out of desperation. However, she doesn’t think Arasaka knows about his actions. With V’s infamy, if they knew, this apartment would be swarmed already. Even with Arasaka’s dwindling power they wouldn’t leave a chance to get at her, especially if they’re aware she’s been avoiding merc work and combat. So it must be Takemura working alone. Only remaining question is his motivation.

If it’s just one person then V has nothing to worry about. She can handle it.

“We’re not goin’ anywhere,” she says, looking at Judy with a soft determination. “We’ll meet with Panam and hopefully they can help us out, but we're not leavin’.”

Judy stares back at her. “It’s not safe, V, ” she protests.

“I know…But I have a feelin’ that Goro - if it is actually Goro, I mean - is working alone. ‘Saka doesn’t have a clue yet. They’d be tryna flatline us the second they knew where we were.”

Judy says nothing.

“So, he’s doin’ this behind ‘Saka’s back. Dude's gotta be fuckin’ desperate if he'd come to me after what I did. I can work with that; I can make sure this shit goes away before it even begins.” V leans in, presses a kiss to Judy’s lips and holds her close, letting Judy’s warm tears stain her own cheek, “Please trust me, Jude. I hate this too, but I’m not about to let some corpo fuckin’ lapdog try to make us panic.”

Judy takes a steadying breath. She seems conflicted, eyes shifting as she battles with herself. V hates to say she understands, but she does. “Okay,” Judy whispers after a moment. “But you have to promise me somethin’.”

V leans back slightly to look at Judy in full. A condition? It seems only fair, especially with what she’s asking herself. “‘Course.”

“If there’s any sign that Arasaka actually knows where we are? We delta.”

Instinctively, V wants to say no. She wants to stand her ground like the stubborn bitch she is. She might be out of practice, but she crumbled Arasaka to dust once before - and if it comes to it she would do it again, and make sure to finish the job this time. Six months of peace may have softened her edges but with this fire in her chest, V knows she’d go in guns blazing if she had to. But despite what she wants to say, she finds the argument dies in her throat at the mere thought of Judy getting caught in the crossfire. People got caught in the crossfire before. V still feels guilty about it sometimes… Shit. She can't let that happen again. Especially not to Judy. Her Judy .

So, V swallows her ego. “Alright. I promise,” She says.

And she seals the deal with a kiss.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 4 months ago

Text

Take My Nirvana - Judy x FemV [Chapter 2]

Rating: Mature Chapters: 3 (incomplete) Current Word Count: 9484

Chapter 1 on AO3 Chapter 2 on AO3

Or, you can start reading below:

Quick Authors Note: Please be aware I am not actually updating *this* quickly, I'm just sharing the first few chapters on Tumblr over this weekend, as I forgot to share alongside posting to AO3. Chapter 3 is already live there if you're eager for more :) x-x-x-x-x-x

The next few days come and go as normally as any other. Working, eating, sleeping, fucking. Life is simple, and life is good.

V’s investigative work has taken her to an upscale cocktail lounge in some fancy corpo building on Mercer Island. It’s fancy - like, built for the 1% when America was still a functional country level of fancy, with the patronage to match. Frankly, she’d much rather be somewhere more central in the city, but with some clients there’s no arguing. Some corpos are just prissy assholes and that’s just that. For it being early afternoon, the lounge feels surprisingly busy… though, V doesn’t blame the people here for partaking in a bit of day drinking. Being caught in the exhaustive web of corporate affairs would lead her to a life on the bottle too.

V’s here with her client: the woman from a few days ago who’s paranoid about her husband. V slides a shard across the table to her. The woman looks at her expectantly.

“Is this it?” She asks. Her voice is cold.

Fuckin’ Corpos, always talking to people like they’re pieces of shit.

V bites back a snarky reply. “That’s it, Mrs. Bravoski” she confirms. “Chip contains a fully scrolled BD of your husband. He’s not cheating on you, but you might wanna ask him about his drug habit.”

Mrs. Bravoski sighs, tapping her nails impatiently against the marble table. She picks up the chip, looking disappointed. V wonders if she wanted him to be a cheater… Wouldn’t surprise her, actually. The virtu confirmed he’s rolling in eddies - divorce settlement would be killer.

Mrs. Bravoski places the chip into her purse. “Whilst I can’t say I’m not grateful for your diligent work, I’m afraid I still have my suspicions. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do some further reconnaissance?”

V looks at her blankly.

Seriously?

“Sorry, don’t do that kinda work.”

The woman quirks a brow. “Oh really? You’ve got that look about you…” she muses, gesturing to V’s shuttered mantis blades. “You don’t find many mercs out here, and I know you’re always eager for eddies-”

“- Gonna stop you right there.” V interrupts. She’s had enough now. “If you’ve got a virtu, a BD, maybe some security cam footage you need goin’ through? I’m your girl. Anything else? Go find a fixer.”

Mrs. Bravoski frowns at this, as if offended at the mere suggestion. V knows fixers and mercs are less common around these parts, and therefore are in high demand, but V’s made it perfectly clear what services she offers. It’s on them if they get snapped at for trying to ask otherwise. V continues, “Now we are done here?”

Truly ruffled by this point, Mrs. Bravoski puts her hands up in defeat. She takes a final sip from the cocktail she had been nursing, and steps away from their table. Her jaw works for a second as she mulls over her words. “As always, I appreciate your discretion. I’ll be in touch.” She turns on her heel and walks away.

V sighs, downing the last of her own drink and slumping against the table for a moment of respite. What a piece of work. Not surprising though, Corpos always are.

V heads back to the bar and chucks the bartender a tip, plus a few extra eddies to ensure Mr Bravoski never hears a thing about his wife and the mysterious investigator. Last thing V needs is some hotshot on an ego trip deciding to spread her name over the screamsheets… Would definitely ruin the whole ‘ lay low and don’t alert the megacorps’ thing she has going on right now.

V hops in the elevator and emerges onto the streets of Seattle. She ambles over to her motorcycle parked on the sidewalk and clambers onto the seat before taking a moment to decompress. A moment to breathe: something her old life never afforded her. It’s almost nice if you ignore the air quality.

Unfortunately, time marches forward, and V’s got one more pitstop to make before she can call it quits for the day - an important one at that. She clicks the starter and the bike thrums into life. V zips up her jacket, then kicks the bike off the stand, peeling away into the busy mid-afternoon traffic.

Fortunately, the drive to her next stop - the old cruise port - is a short 20 minutes. V swerves through the streets carefully, eager to escape the dense sprawl of corporate buildings and apartments. She skids round a corner; up the ramp to the highway, leading onto the bridge that leads back into the city. She takes a moment to enjoy the view of Washington lake stretching out parallel to the road, before locking in and continuing to snake around the other members of the road. No point in wasting time, after all.

The drive comes and goes quickly. V rocks up to the port and is grateful to see the area is quiet, much unlike the roads she’s just come from. This part of the city used to be home to a part of the tourism industry - though, safe to say, that was a long, long time ago. Looking at this place now with its poorly maintained concrete and disused terminals, it’s easy to confuse the docks for something abandoned… Which is all the better for the various (perhaps less-than-legal) independent businesses that have found their home here over the years.

And well… V isn’t a merc anymore, but she’s still not about kissing ass and giving business to corps when there’s perfectly good alternatives.

V comes to a stop outside one of the smaller warehouse looking buildings. She hops off her bike and leans it against the rusted metal wall, before sauntering over to the door. She knocks once, then twice in rapid succession to make her presence known before she pushes it open.

“Ahh little red!” comes the booming voice of the shop’s owner. He’s a welcome friendly face after seeing nothing but corporate sheep for the last few hours. “I was wondering when you would come visit. Your package is here.” V nods in greeting at the man - a sizable European by the name of Vlad. He’s quite the character, as is the store itself. It’s a charming shithole of a place - half ripperdoc, half junk shop - and for what he sells the prices aren’t half bad either.

She grabs the parcel from him and tucks it into the inner pocket of her jacket. This parcel is something she’s been waiting a week or so for and with it finally in-hand she feels a flutter of anxious excitement in her chest. But she’s not about to acknowledge it, not yet anyway… And so, itching for a distraction she turns then to the shelf of secondhand cyberware stocked alongside the counter and begins picking through it. “Thanks Vlad,” she replies idly, as she investigates a few pairs of optics.

“Mm, anything tickle your fancy? Fresh stock.”

Fresh is a generous word to use. The optics are recent gen - however clearly secondhand and a bit worse for wear… Though, the chrome itself is preem. Vlad sure knows his stuff.

“Actually, just wonderin’ if you’ve heard any news about holo glitches lately,” V inquires. She turns a pair of Kiroshi optics over in her hand; they're the very same pair installed in her face right now. “Friend of mine got a new pair just over a year back an’ their holo popped up even when they closed the damn thing.��

Vlad gives a thoughtful grunt. “Glitches can happen… but any user who knows a thing never uses the soft’s latest patch. What version is your friend running?”

V places the Kiroshi’s down and moves on to a box of various ammo. It’s a shame she has no need for bullets like these anymore, because Vlad is stocked up on a bunch of rare types. Jeez, how the fuck did he even get these?! “Ehh they’ve been travellin’ for a bit… Probably got back into town 6 months ago? Haven’t had the eddies for a ‘doc appointment.”

Another thoughtful noise. “Bah, optics have been stable since then. Perhaps he is using something non-standard? Making interference? I could not diagnose this without taking a peek.”

V stiffens at the suggestion of non-standard chrome being the perpetrator of her holo issue from a few days ago. Her whole head is hosting a bunch of hardware she doesn’t understand, but chooses not to question on account of the whole ‘keeping her alive’ thing. Much to her frustration, V simply doesn’t know; can’t know if maybe Vlad is onto something. Maybe she needs to comb through the data concerning her new implants again…

V offers Vlad a shrug. “He’s not the kinda guy to trust shifty lookin’ shacks like this” She says, forcing a playful charm to her tone. “But I’ll let him know. Do I owe you anythin’?”

Vlad hits back with a humouring scoff, waving his hands dismissively. “You have paid the scratch needed, no additional charges. Now get out of here before I start insulting your friends’ bad taste.”

V makes her way towards the door. She throws Vlad a smile. “That your secret to customer retention? Insulting them?”

Vlad shoots a cheeky grin. “My methods are top secret, and some secrets are not for sharing, little red.”

V smirks, before stepping outside and shutting the door behind her.

Oh the fuckin’ irony.

V steps back into the sunshine. She sighs, happy for her tasks to be over, but ultimately feeling a little disappointed. The in’s and out’s of cyberware are not her forte so even finding the smallest hint to her issue from the other day would've been great. More interruptions are the last thing she needs. No matter, she'll figure it out somehow…

V reclaims her motorcycle and quickly double checks the package in her pocket is secure before kicking off the stand once again. Feeling the parcel crinkle beneath her hands makes her excited and nervous all over again.

No time to think about it. Gotta get home. x-x-x-x-x-x

A short drive later and V is sauntering back into her and Judy’s apartment.

V finds Judy curled up in her editing chair. Judy’s face is ingrained with a deep set concentration and her gloved hand twitches robotically as she works away in her virtual editor. She’s in the zone and truly unaware of the world around her. V loves seeing her this way, intense and focused. Something about it fills her with a carnal warmth.

V clears her throat quietly. Judy flinches, her eyes snapping open. “Shit, hi V!” She gasps. Her eyes blink rapidly as they adjust to the light.

“Sorry,” V laughs as she leans around Judy’s BD gear to gently peck the other woman’s forehead. “Didn’t mean to scare ya’.”

Judy’s tugs off her headset and snakes her hand round V’s neck, pulling her down into a proper kiss. V hums appreciatively, unable to stop herself sinking into Judy’s touch. “Working hard?”

“You know me,” Judy purrs. “But I can finish up for now.”

“Nova. Come find me in the kitchen once you’re wrapped up?”

Judy nods.

V smiles and traipses out to the kitchen area. She shrugs off her jacket, fishing the parcel out of her pocket, before settling at one of the stools that lines the breakfast bar. She turns it over in her hands. It’s neatly wrapped in brown paper, zero indication of its contents. All for the better really, considering what it’s meant to be: a surprise for Judy…

Shit, guess it’s time to think about it now.

Surprises of the gift variety are something V’s never been good at. V’s skillset belongs more in the sneaking, murdering, and investigating side of things, so her kind of surprises are more like clambering through a window and surprising someone with a knife gifted straight into their eye socket, as opposed to finding gifts for her loved ones. With most of the former skills on the backburner, working on the latter has become a bit more relevant lately.

So, today she’s testing herself…

A few moments later Judy is padding into the kitchen herself. She stretches, gently rubbing her neck and groaning; a small price to pay for her shrimp-like posture when editing. She eyes the parcel in V’s hand with a quirked eyebrow as she skirts past V to pour herself some coffee. “Whatcha got here?”

V feels a flush creep up her cheeks. Ah fuck. “Oh, uh… Just somethin’ I picked up before I came back here.”

Judy settles on the stool next to V and sips at her coffee. Her smile is amused. “Always so mysterious, amor . You gonna open it?”

V hesitates for a moment, “It’s for you, actually.”

Judy’s smile turns into something warmer: a fond look that makes V’s heart jump.

V continues “It’s a gift… to celebrate us bein’ here six months. I know we don’t usually do gifts or yknow, most sappy romantic shit, but I wanted to get you somethin’ that could help you keep buildin’ that career you’ve always wanted, ‘cause to be honest I’ve loved watching every second.”

Judy looks at V softly. She takes the parcel as V offers it and presses a kiss to her cheek. “You truly are something else, Valerie.”

The use of her full name sends excited shivers down V’s spine. You’d think she was being held at gunpoint the way her heart is pounding in her ears. In fact, she’s been held at gunpoint, and it wasn’t this intense. At least this seems to be going well.

Judy gently pries at the tape holding the parcel closed. She opens it slowly, glancing at V with suspicion when the paper is pulled back, and the item is wrapped in a further layer of protective packaging. She opens that too, eyes scanning then growing wide as the item tumbles into her lap. “Is this…?”

There’s no mistaking what it is. It’s a BD editing glove. A new one - three generations newer than the one Judy’s been using currently. Judy never mentions it but V knows she’s been wanting a new one, especially since her current glove currently needs electrical tape just to function - the downside of spending nearly a year travelling on the road with that sort of equipment… Unfortunately, the spare eddies just haven’t been laying around to justify the expense.

Up until now, that is.

Judy looks at V, her mouth still agape.

“Is- Is that good silence? Don’t leave me hangin’ Jude,”

Judy grins then, joy spreading across her face like a kid on their birthday. She nods enthusiastically. “It’s good silence,” she assures. “Very, very good silence, holy shit. This is going to make my life so much easier.”

V is quietly elated. Thank fuck she did this right.

Judy leans over to V, pulling her in for a soft, amorous kiss that speaks a thousand ‘thank you’s’ quietly against V’s lips. Judy's thumb brushes gently against V’s cheek as she lingers close, and V feels her let out an amused exhale. “Well,” Judy hums. “This certainly ruins my own surprise.”

V leans back slightly. “You got me somethin’?”

“You weren’t the only one paying attention to the date on the calendar. One sec. ”

With that, Judy hops off her stool and saunters back into her work den. She’s gone only a moment, returning with a BD wreath, a BD chip, and a somewhat coy smile on her face. Whilst V has no idea what to expect, she’s glad for the focus to be turned away from her own gift.

“A BD?” She asks. She eyes the chip in Judy’s hand. It’s plain aside from a simple white sticker, adorned with Judy’s writing. Though her thumb covers most of the words, V can make out that it says ‘ For my love. From Judy x’ .

“It’s a special BD, you’ll see.” Judy replies as she places the BD chip to the side and begins to fit the wreath onto V’s head. “How much do you remember from your surgery?”

V tries to think back. Truthfully, the month prior and after her surgery are a bit of a blur, and painful to try and pry from her memory. What she knows is mostly recollections from other folks, or the very little her brain managed to keep hold of whilst she was occupied by trying to stay alive. “Not much,” she admits. “Jus’ that I was a bit of a walking corpse.”

Judy tenderly adjusts the wreath so it’s sitting in precisely the right position. Her smile is soft, with the slightest hint something a little more serious hiding beneath it. “Mhm, and I would’ve killed you if you died, yknow?”

“And I would’a haunted you.”

Judy hums amusedly at that. With the wreath nestled correctly on V’s head, She takes the BD chip and gets it hooked up. She looks pensive for a moment, though continues a moment later, ensuring it’s all connected to V’s interface correctly. “So this BD… about a week after your surgery when you were still high as shit on pain meds, you kept complaining that you were bored being carted about and resting 24/7.”

“Sounds like me.” V agrees.

Judy smiles again, finding humour in what seems like a pretty difficult story to recount. “So, one night when Panam and the others headed into the town to grab some supplies, you begged me to let you out of the tent. You wanted to look at the stars, and you were being so stubborn about it; wouldn’t let it go. You were being a real pain in the ass, to be honest.”

“...Yeah. Sounds like me.” V agrees again, though a little more sheepishly.

“And with me being the best output ever, I finally said okay. Managed to drag you slightly uphill and we laid down together and…Yknow, I don’t know how you knew V, but there was a meteor shower, like you had predicted it or something.”

V stays silent. It feels like Judy needs to keep telling this story, and V is enthralled all the same.

Judy continues, “And you looked at me with the first bit of clarity you’d had that whole time and said you never wanted to forget it… ‘Course I knew you would forget, so I recorded it. That’s what’s on the BD.”

V is speechless - which is frankly, a very difficult thing to achieve. Judy has done something that no one else could do: give V back a memory that she lost. Whilst V will never complain about the circumstances surrounding her survival, she has only ever admitted to herself that finds it difficult to think about the near two month gap in her memory… But of course Judy knows. Judy always knows, even when V says nothing at all (which is unfortunately often). V’s prior curiosity is replaced now with something deep and burning, and unspeakable - but from how she’s looking at Judy, V has no doubt she knows what’s there.

“You ready?” Judy asks, bringing her thumb and forefinger to V’s chin to tilt her head up. “It’ll be from my perspective, but I’m sure you can live with that.”

V nods. “Yeah.”

With nothing else to prepare, V leans back against the kitchen counter. A moment later and the lights of the BD wreath blare into her eyes, obscuring her vision; making her senses go numb. Every nerve in V’s body tingles as the BD wraps itself around her consciousness and loads her into the simulated reality. She’s struck initially by humid desert air against her skin, the feeling of a rough blanket beneath her. V’s no stranger to BD’s, but it’s incredible just how difficult they are to discern from reality sometimes - V knows she isn’t in the desert, but it’s also nigh on impossible to not think it’s real. The visuals fade in now, and V watches her (Judy’s) eyes open. What she’s met with is… well, herself. She’s looking at herself through Judy’s eyes, feeling an associated warmth and happiness dancing somewhere in Judy’s chest. There’s a concern there too, hovering below it all, but it feels so purposefully tuned out that V can barely grasp it. There’s not enough time anyway, as seconds later Judy is turning away to look up.

V doesn’t know what to expect but… Fuck, it really is magical. The sky; the stars, like a painting, with trails of light dashing across the inky blackness of the night. The whole sky sparkles like it’s been adorned with diamonds. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before… She understands why her past self never wanted to forget it. If the visuals weren’t enough, feeling Judy’s emotions in real time is a whole experience in its own right. The apprehension that Judy had tried to tune away is long gone, replaced with excitement and elation. It feels good; light, and free spirited.

V hears something then. The calling of her name - and her name specifically - from a voice that doesn’t seem like Judy’s; not Panam, or Mitch, or any of the other Aldecaldos either. It’s faint; disembodied, barely legible above the gentle murmur of the wind… V wonders if it’s Judy’s voice from outside the experience, but it’d be louder in that case. An editing artefact, perhaps? V elects to ignore it. She’s far too enthralled to do anything else. She watches as Judy turns her head again, and the warm feelings return. V hears herself slur something, and feels the laugh bubble in Judy’s chest. Happiness, adoration; love.

But then the voice again. Louder. Demanding. Impatient.

What the fuck?

V grows some self awareness amongst her haze. Something is wrong; she should probably pull herself out. The BD wreath is glitching... It must be, that’s the only explanation. She goes to command her body; pull off the wreath but… no luck. Her arms won’t respond. Her whole body won’t do a damn thing.

Underneath the joy and happiness that Judy’s recording is flushing through V’s senses, V's heart quickens. She can’t move. Can’t speak. She can only watch the BD continue to play, becoming increasingly aware of a speck of darkness growing from the center of her vision. What follows is static; audio corrupting; the digitised space collapsing on itself.

V’s heart pounds. There’s nothing she can do. It’s all changed so quickly.

A computer window pops up briefly. Hundreds of lines of code flash past V’s eyes.

She manages to catch a glimpse of an Arasaka logo before everything turns black.

Then, V feels nothing.

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 4 months ago

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Take My Nirvana - Judy X FemV Fic

Rating: Mature Chapters: 3 (incomplete) Current Word Count: 9484

Chapter 1 on AO3

Or, you can start reading below:

Prologue: A year and 2 months.

Roughly 425 days.

10,200 hours give or take, if you want to be pedantic about it.

That’s how long it’s been since the craziest night of V’s life. An insane, explosive, life-altering night. A night that changed everything - that fixed a problem thought unfixable; added a new problem perhaps inescapable, but did something that V thought impossible:

It gave her hope for the future.

10,200 hours since she stormed Arasaka, committed the biggest ‘Fuck you’ of the corporation’s history, and somehow made it out alive to tell the tale. It’s a story the people of Night City could’ve only ever dreamed of before; had only gotten a taste of during Johnny Silverhand’s golden hour.

But V’s story doesn’t end in Night City. She could’ve been a living legend - been the golden girl of The Afterlife, shrouded in glory… but see, that wasn’t what hope looked like to her anymore. She got to the big leagues like she and Jackie had said they would, but after all she went through, V had become disillusioned with it all. She had to leave; had to look for answers elsewhere. If not for herself, then for the people she met on her journey to the top.

No, her hope looked a little bit more like a family of travellers, and a certain tattoo covered techie. So she left, with endless possibilities on the horizon. V breathed free for the first time, and she knew this was where she was meant to be. She just knew it would work out; it had to.

Truth be told, it looked shaky for a moment… Months passed by and V was coughing up blood, and after four, she felt like a ghost in her own body. People looked at her that way too. It felt almost like she’d made a mistake. V thought she might die, but after everything that had happened, she decided she would be okay with it. After all, she had found a family, and someone who loved her more than anything. She could die with dignity, and not as another victim to Night City’s bullshit…

But in the end, death did not come for her. It didn’t come for any of them despite every situation they put themselves into. Hope - it seemed - had paid off.

The Aldecaldos connections came through. A clan as historic as theirs has roots deeper than the oldest tree - and they found something: a real miracle of medicine. Truth is, the science that saved V is beyond her comprehending, even now whenever she opens up the shards to read the data.

What matters is that she made it… With a little help from her friends.

And now her life is hers, and she intends to make it good.

Chapter 1

It’s another new day.

V groans as the morning sun cracks through the blinds. It casts a harsh light across the room, dragging her mercilessly into the world of the waking. It’s a blessing to wake up; a gift to arise and not feel the shadow of death on her shoulder… but to be honest, V would’ve loved ten more minutes.

Alas, not even ‘happily ever after’ can be truly perfect. Gotta stay humble, after all.

It’s a warm morning and as the world focuses around her, V can hear the idle chatter of the radio drifting into the bedroom. The hosts’ voices are calm, sharing news of no importance, and it fills the apartment with an easy ambience. V stretches, pulls herself up, and opens her eyes. She’s met with her and Judy’s bedroom, furniture askew and clothing discarded on the floor from their late night activities.

Remembering it now, V huffs out an amused exhale. She’ll have to make some time to tidy up; maybe throw on some laundry too.

It’s funny. It’s been 6 months of living here; 8 months since the operation that ensured her longevity, and V still can’t believe that that’s her first concern upon waking - laundry…and whether the coffee in the kitchen is still warm.

How ridiculous. How normal.

Yet, V would be lying if she said she disliked it. Better than waking up to gunfire and smoke.

She pads quietly into the kitchen and beelines for the coffee jug on the side. It’s still warm - preem shit!

V takes herself onto the apartment balcony and leans on the railings, looking across to the city that spills out in every direction. Seattle, with its unmistakable skyline, and notably less fucked reputation. It’s different here; V likes it. It feels familiar enough, without sucking her in. She and Judy live on the edge of the city, and it’s nice to look over it knowing that they’re both here because they want to be, and not because the city has some metaphoric chains holding them in place. It’s not as exciting maybe, but after the whirlwind of the last 14 months, V thinks she’s had enough excitement for her multiple lifetimes.

V’s happy - happy in the way she thought Night City would make her. It’s hard to not compare her life now to when she was in NC, and think maybe some people would think it a waste… After all - quiet life or blaze of glory, right? But as she stands, watching the sun climb higher into the sky, a gentle breeze ruffling her hair, she realises something very important:

She doesn’t fucking care what other people think of her legacy anymore.

Now, that being said, V doesn’t believe this place is their forever home - Judy seems to agree on that fact too, thankfully. This is just a peaceful stopgap; a vacation from the bullshit. It’s needed; warranted, and well fucking earned. Fortunately, they have the time for it now. All the time in the world, in fact, so V’s more than happy to spend a few mornings slurping coffee and musing.

V sips from her mug, a smug little smile on her face. A message ping from her holo tugs her away from her thoughts.

[Panam: Hey V, it looks like we’ll be in your neck of the woods soon. We should catch up.]

It’s a surprise - but a welcome one. It’s been a week or so since V’s heard anything from Panam. Although, it’s not without reason. They’re still close friends - family practically - but The Aldecaldos have been making themselves busy, strengthening their numbers and working wherever the wind carries them. They’ve been doing well; growing stronger by the day, and Panam is strong as ever too. In Saul’s unfortunate absence, she’s grown into a formidable leader – she’s even managed to put a slight lid on that hair trigger temper of hers, which is something V would’ve scoffed at, had you suggested it a year prior.

The nomads haven’t travelled this far north in quite some time. Though, as the borders are tricky at the best of times, the opportunities are few and far between. If they’re visiting the area, V wants to make sure she doesn’t miss it.

[V: Sounds preem! Hit me up when you’re close by.]

As V closes the text thread, her attention draws to gentle footsteps behind her, followed by the weight of two arms snaking around her waist. She smiles, and hums as a pair of lips press a kiss to the nape of her neck. Just the person she’d been waiting for...

“Enjoying the view?” V asks, taking another sip from her cup.

“Which one?” Comes Judy’s teasing reply. Her head settles over V’s shoulder as she cuddles closer.

V tilts her head, resting it against Judy. She doesn’t humour a reply: they both know Judy was not looking at the scenery. “You must’a been up early for work… how’s it goin’?”

“Pretty nova, actually. These clients have way better taste than NC.”

“Ooh,” V drawls with an intrigued lilt. “Finally gettin’ a little more arthouse than smut?”

Judy makes an affirming hum. “You bet. It’s real preem. Feels like these BD’s I’m making are something meaningful.”

V can’t help but smile. This is the shit she lives for. For all the low blows the last year has thrown at them, you'd barely know by the way Judy carries herself nowadays. The spark in her shines bright. It’s something fierce; something V admires.

Admittedly, V still struggles to speak her feelings, so if someone was to ask about her achievements, causing the Arasaka shit-storm would be her first answer. Well, depending on who was asking, of course. She is technically a wanted criminal for that, after all. Truth is, getting Judy out of NC? Biggest fucking deal out there. Especially now V knows she can enjoy it to the fullest.

V turns around, and pulls Judy into a proper embrace, planting a kiss to the top of the other woman’s head. “Your work’s always had meanin’, Jude.”

“Sure, editing a BD of some poor choom getting pegged multiple times in a row was real impactful.” Judy replies, laughing against V’s chest.

“Somethin’ was impacting, that’s for sure.” V smirks.

Judy leans back, playfully hitting V on the arm. “You gonk.”

They laugh, curling against each other, the warm sun against V’s back making her feel more alive than ever. She kisses Judy softly, once, twice then lingers, teasing a third. Judy doesn’t seem to appreciate the tease, and pulls V in. Their lips meld together, and V is quick to bring her free hand to Judy’s jaw. They fawn over each other for a moment. One of Judy’s hands tangles in the fabric of V’s faded Samurai tank top, and she cuddles into the crook of V’s neck with a dreamy sigh. “And you, mi calabacita ? What’s on your agenda today?”

“Oh? Uhh,” V drawls, suddenly a little distracted. “I got some private investigation virtus to look at. Some bitchy corpo wants evidence her husband is screwin’ the nanny.”

Judy hums amusedly. “You think he is?”

“Nahh,” V dismisses, equally entertained. “Almost definitely hidin’ a glitter habit though. Pretty sure one glance at the footage she’s secretly recording will prove it.”

Judy grimaces, “Woof, that virtu won’t be fun to scroll.”

“I’ll be alright, got the best techie in the NUSA to keep me safe.”

“Mm, is that so?” Judy smirks, closing the distance between them again. It’s heavier this time, as her grip in V’s shirt tightens. “Y’know… If you wanted to start thanking me early, I have some time before this edit’s due.”

V draws in a breath as heat swells in the depth of her stomach. She likes the sound of that. She likes the sound of that a lot. She takes Judy’s hand and tugs her away from the railing, then back inside. They might have all the time in the world now, but there are still some things where V would rather not waste it, especially on mindless morning talk.

V discards her coffee cup on the side. She eyes her laptop as she does, noting the 10+ emails sitting in her inbox… they can wait for a little while. Judy however, seems like she can’t wait at all. She pounces on V, pressing her against the kitchen counter with a searing kiss. Her hands are eager, dipping under V’s shirt, lightly scratching at her stomach. “Fuck, Jude,” V breaths out.

“Arthouse or not, workin’ gets me worked up.” Judy replies firmly, as her lips trail down V’s jaw and neck. One of her hands comes to cup V’s breast. V swallows a gasp, bucking her hips gently, as she brings her own hands to the counter to hold herself steady. God, what this woman does to her…

Unfortunately - despite being uncharacteristically kind to V as of late - fate still loves to find ways to subtly fuck with her… Just as Judy slides a leg between V’s own, a message pings onto her holo. The timing could not be worse. The notification tone dings directly through V’s cyberware, and she curses as the message UI creeps into her vision.

Fuck. Stupid Cyberware. Not Now.

V makes an intentional blink and her optics respond in kind. Her holo closes immediately, just in time for V to drink in the vision of Judy’s wicked smile before her thigh presses into the crotch of V’s shorts. It’s pure bliss - a slow drag of pressure that has V sensitive and whining for more. Luckily, Judy either doesn’t notice V’s distraction or pretends not to. She eyes V lustfully before her mouth is back on V’s neck and her thigh is brushing upwards again between V’s parted legs.

“Shit,” V gasps, feeling herself tremble. “Can’t stand if you’re gonna keep this up.”

Judy responds by tugging V across the room and planting them both on the couch. With zero respite, she’s on top, kissing, teasing, scratching – all the things that drive V wild. The throb between V’s legs only grows and grows. She needs more and she needs it now. And oh, is Judy willing to give… She pulls up V’s shirt and trails down V’s chest and stomach with kisses and gentle nips of her teeth. V’s entire body is thrumming. Every nerve feels like it’s firing a million times a minute, and she can’t help but moan as Judy’s lips kiss just below her navel, teasing where she’s about to head.

“Judy, please…” V whines.

But then, as if the first time wasn’t cruel enough… another message ping.

Then a second.

A third.

And fourth.

Each appears in rapid succession; each more annoying than the last. Even though V is certain she closed the damn thing, the un-opened messages pop up regardless, lurking in her peripheral. V grumbles audibly this time. Judy flinches. She snaps upwards, concern furrowing into her brow. “Shit Val, everything okay?” she asks, glancing down at V’s stomach, now laden with bite marks. “Did I hurt you?”

V stares at her dumbly. She can still feel the ghost of Judy’s mouth so close to where she wanted it...

Stupid. Fucking. Cyberware.

V brings her hand to cup Judy’s chin. “Nah, you’re perfect Jude…” V says, looking sheepish. “‘My cyberware is buggin’ out. Holo is blowin’ up and refusin’ to stay closed.”

“Chingada madre,” Judy mutters. “I swear if it’s Panam… After all the times she interrupted us before.”

It’s a joke, but V can tell there’s a little bit of real frustration behind it. Judy’s right, after all… Travelling with the Aldecaldos was great but afforded them no privacy, so the least they deserve now is to be able to fuck on the couch in peace. V sits up slightly, navigating through the UI on her holo. She’s gotta deal with this quickly. Frankly, if Panam’s suddenly has a lot more to say, V will definitely be a little pissed off for the interruption. Who in their right mind sends 5 texts in a row?!

V pats her chest and offers Judy an apologetic look. With a (playful) roll of her eyes, Judy settles against V. She’s annoyed, for certain, but clearly not deterred as her hands draw idle shapes against V’s skin. It almost makes V want to ignore the texts even longer, but with 5 already in the backlog, she doubts how long she’d get before another flurry arrives.

Better get this over with.

She opens up her inbox and is met with… Well…

Whatever it is, it sure isn’t Panam.

[???: Hello V.]

[???: It has been quite some time.]

[???: You are very hard to find nowadays.]

[???: It is very important you do not ignore me.]

[???: I have a job for you.]

V stares blankly.

What the fuck?

V doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. A message about a gig? It feels weird; uncomfortable. It’s crazy to think just over a year ago she wouldn’t have blinked at the sight of this… but now it feels odd, like an intrusive hand reaching to her from a past life. Surely people know by now that she’s long gone?

A number of emotions flicker through V’s mind - Confusion, annoyance, concern, but mostly V just wonders why?

Who would text her this? The feared merc she once was no longer exists.

She doesn’t know the sender either - there’s not a single clue to their identity. No texting quirks, no name, not even a holo ID picture. Just five sentences and the mysterious job they’ve yet to reveal. Something about it makes V’s blood run cold.

Judy notices the way V freezes. She sits back up, confusion lacing her expression. “What is it?”

V shakes her head. She needs to keep it cool. “Nothin’,” she replies quietly. “Unknown number saying they got a job for me - A merc job.” She takes Judy’s hand in her own, and forces a smirk. “Don’t think they got the memo that I retired from the biz,” she adds, trying to lighten the mood. “And uh… relocated 1000 miles north.”

Judy offers an empathetic smile. “Looks like it got you spooked.”

V doesn’t want to admit it, but Judy’s read her like a book. The peace of the last 6 months has softened her, made her emotions slip out more than she’s ever allowed them to before… If V was to guess, she’d say that’s supposed to be a good thing, but it still catches her off guard. She pulls Judy back down into a cuddle. The other woman is warm and smells like home. “Nothin’ spooks me.” V lies.

Judy’s free hand continues to draw circles over V’s hip. The sexual tension is lost now, but the intimacy thankfully remains. “You gonna reply to ‘em?” Judy asks after a moment.

V glances over to the message UI. Despite her apprehension and the initial concern, there’s a little spark of curiosity that tugs at her desperately. She doesn’t want to know but also feels compelled to grasp the mystery with both hands… But can she do that? Is that really an option? She looks then at Judy, then around their apartment. It doesn’t take any deep measure of thought for V to realise that - no, actually - she can’t do that. Not now. Simple curiosity is not an excuse to potentially throw away everything she’s worked so hard for; everything Judy built by her side.

Merc V does not exist anymore. End of story.

V deletes the messages without a second glance. “Nah,” she sights out. “We ain’t in Night City no more. They can find someone else.”

She feels Judy smile against her skin. Then, there’s a gentle kiss pressed to the side of her neck. “Good.”

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Judy Alvarez #V #Juvie #fanfic #judy x v #v x judy #I'mma be real with you I forgot I had a tumblr account to repost my fic on #So there's like 3 chapters on AO3 already #I'm sorry :')

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 2 years ago

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Love Is A... (Murder) - Wenclair fic

Description: " How she craves Enid after these nights. How she wants to experience just a taste of the violence their victims fall to… and how willing Enid is to provide."

Wednesday and Enid have become highly efficient in the game of taking down the corrupt rich and powerful... and now, waiting on the collection of their latest mark, there's nothing left but adrenaline and a desperate craving for something more.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair Rating: Explicit (Please check the tags) Word Count: 4,877

Click Here To Read This Fic On AO3 or keep reading below!

x-x-x-x-x-x

It didn't have to end this way.

But Wednesday is glad that it did. It’s late; very late, in fact. She stands in the bathroom of some dingy hotel, in the middle of a nowhere-street, that people would rather watch rot than visit. She wears a dress - bloodied - that shimmers like an oil slick against the cheap fluorescent lights. Wednesday’s hands are gloved, and also soaked from the blood she has tried to clean, but her efforts are fruitless so far. Cleaning a mess like this is often difficult...perhaps it will have to wait. Not that it matters, this bathroom has likely seen much worse. The lights buzz.

In the bathtub, grotty and water-stained, a body lies. It is the body of a man. He is curled awkwardly in the bath basin, his clothing not faring much better than Wednesday’s own. Not to mention that he is bruised and beaten, looking as though mauled by a large animal, barely recognisable as human any more. Wednesday’s own skin is roughened and marred - but she’s the one alive, and not dead in a bathtub. So she wins. A victory as good as any.

Some context is required, perhaps… Wednesday does not murder for fun. Well, kind of. She enjoys it at least, but the enjoyment is not what motivates her. Mostly.

For years, her parents have been making bedfellows of the rich and powerful - seeking out those who are corrupted and ensuring they disappear one way or another. A family side business of sorts. It has been quite lucrative… and a rather enjoyable past time, according to Morticia.

Recently, Wednesday and Enid have joined in. Their recent achievements in the world make for a unique way into the lives of these twisted life wasters. Enid, now a powerful and influential journalist - Whilst Wednesday relishes in the open secret of her writing alias, making influential ‘friends’ as she goes. They are only acquaintances truly (they don’t deserve to be more), but their hubris is what makes them so easy to kill. She even begrudgingly accepts a few ‘nepo baby’ comments from the company she seeks to murder, knowing it will all end with them begging for their life; choking on their blood. Truly, it has been a nonstop whirl of stalking, distracting, and killing ever since they took on the job. Wednesday finds satisfaction in the work; it helps inspire her writing. Even Enid takes to it well, despite her aversion to blood…In fact, she doesn't mind it so much any more - perhaps it is the knowledge that the blood she spills saves many lives more than it destroys…and kills like this, the very one Wednesday stands above now? Well. It certainly crops a branch of corruption off a tree that deserves to be hacked to the ground. Not to mention it brings a sadistic smile to her face.

Wednesday pulls her gloves off; chucks them on top of the body. She grabs a sheet then, shaking it out, and laying it on top. She thinks this body doesn't deserve the dignity… But she also desires to not look at that pathetic face any longer.

Glancing around the bathroom, she makes careful note of what areas need cleaning. She'll come back to it. For now, she wishes to rid herself of this awful dress. Acting as the bait was already a plan she found distasteful, so the disgusting tight dress is only an insult to injury. Enid will like it when she strips, at least.

She looks down at the body.

"It was nice to see you again." She snarks, "Hopefully next time it'll be in hell. Goodbye Xavier."

Wednesday shuffles out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her unceremoniously. It grabs the attention of Enid, who sits on the bed, fidgeting with an abundance of energy. She smiles brightly as Wednesday emerges from the bathroom, and Wednesday is unsure whether the redness of her cheeks is from a blush or is simply the remaining stain of blood after Enid cleaned herself up. Wednesday does not question it. Enid looks gorgeous. Feral, almost. Free.

“All taken care of?” Enid asks, watching unabashedly as Wednesday strips off the dress and tosses it into a nearby trashbag.

“Of course, cariño.” Wednesday confirms as she kicks off her shoes and tugs down her tights. She lets out a slight satisfied sigh. “My parents’ team will be here in an hour to collect.”

Enid nods, stretching out. Her lightly muscled frame flexes, rippling slightly the pale lighting and Wednesday finds her mind wandering back to only an hour earlier when Enid was a beast and those very muscles sunk sharpened claws right through Xavier’s chest. He never stood a chance. Not against her. Enid was magnificent. She is magnificent.

Who would’ve thought such a bright and bouncy journalist could commit to such atrocities? Enid is still Enid – all electric colours and dazzling, disgusting pop… but there is a righteous streak that makes her such a good killer. Wednesday admires it. She is proud to have curated it; to have taught Enid it is okay to engage with her animalistic side. They are truly an unstoppable team.

Thinking upon it, Wednesday feels her black little heart burn from the desire inside it. How she craves Enid after these nights. How she wants to experience just a taste of the violence their victims fall to… and how willing Enid is to provide. She can see Enid’s own excitement; knows she craves the same thing.

Placing the tights into the trashbag, Wednesday now stands half-naked. Enid simply eyes her.

“It is rude to stare.” Wednesday chastises.

“Then come over here.” Enid retorts, flashing a grin of sharp teeth.

“I would prefer to not touch the bedding. It is filthy.”

Enid smirks, “As if we haven’t just been covered in blood, baby.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes as she approaches the bed. She clambers upon it; absolutely not doing it because Enid said so. Not at all. She wants to be here. On this filthy stained bed. In this dilapidated hotel that isn’t worth the eighty dollars they spent for the night...let alone the six hundred dollars they paid for the receptionists silence regarding their activities. This is all her own doing and desire...

But then, as Wednesday’s weight dips down the mattress, Enid’s smile turns a little darker and Wednesday suddenly really wants to be here. She could not imagine a better place to be, in fact. Dark, dingy and a little bit rotten? Sounds perfect. Ideal. Enid certainly has nothing to do with it.

“Changed your mind, I see?” Enid teases.

Ignoring her, Wednesday crawls up the bed. She settles herself on her knees between Enid's legs and leans in, wasting no time in capturing Enid's lips in a possessive kiss. Pleasure crackles through Wednesday’s spine like lightning, urging her to deepen the kiss immediately, sparks dancing through her nerves.

Enid purrs, her hands coming to cup Wednesday's cheeks, not even hesitating despite the unwashed blood splatters that mark Wednesday’s skin. She is too eager; too desperate to pull their mouths together and feel the comfortable familiarity. This is all she wants and all she needs - all they both need.

Enid’s lips taste divine – with a hint of cherry from her lip balm, and a metallic tang. Wednesday could not imagine anything that would beat this sweet ambrosia. Not even the most potent of poisons could have her craving more.

"You were incredible, amor" She hums lowly. There is a menacing smile on her lips as she licks a speck of blood from them. "A true beast. A nightmare. Xavier stood little chance against your might."

Enid sighs into their kiss, a quiet whine curling on the end of her breath. She bites the bottom of Wednesday’s lip, sucking it into her mouth, pulling her in to another kiss that trumps the first in it’s desperation. It makes Wednesday’s insides throb with need.

When they break, Enid’s pupils are blown; her expression hungry and wolfish.

“Keep praising me like that and you won’t be walking tomorrow.” She growls.

Wednesday brings her fingers to hold the bottom of Enid’s chin as her thumb brushes over Enid’s lip. She watches intensely, noticing the subtle hitches in her breath. Wednesday quirks her brow slightly… she must hold onto her arousal for just a little while.

“You may torture me in a moment, mi loba…but first...”

Enid understands immediately, tugging off her shirt. Wednesday watches with unabashed interest at the reveal of Enid’s stomach and covered breasts. Enid’s body is a beautiful horror show – pale and muscled, but scarred and marked from years of misadventures and (more recently) their murderous side quests. Enid is not someone who attacks by nature, but it is breath-taking how she can tear someone or something apart when she finds a reason to do so. A body like hers is dangerous and oh, how she knows it now. Wednesday finds it intoxicating... She even finds her breath shudder in her lungs as her eyes meet Enid’s soft flesh.

Below the lace of Enid’s bra, across her ribcage, sits a series of raised scars. Tally marks. Kill marks to be specific. They are dainty and neat; arranged in a row that neatly cups the underside of Enid’s breast.

Wednesday admits she did not think Enid would ever consider such markings… but after their second kill, Wednesday stood with her silver blade in hand above a recently de-wolfed Enid who had pinned their victim to the floor. The kill itself was messy and unprofessional, but the thrill? Undeniable.

They kissed and embraced and in a moment of adrenaline craze, Enid guided Wednesday’s hand and created the first two marks herself. She growled something about werewolf tradition and who is Wednesday to question such an intimate act of causing pain: scars made out of pride by her own hand… a subtle ownership, yet one that Enid has full control over.

It is odd to most, perhaps, but Wednesday cannot deny her enjoyment of this little ritual. In any case, she would not actually care what others think of such a thing anyway.

And ritual it truly is. Enid settles down, her legs subtly wrapping around Wednesday’s hips as Wednesday reaches over to the side table and reclaims her silver knife. Wednesday holds the knife in her left hand as she starts brushing her fingers from her right across Enid’s stomach. She soothes at Enid’s pale bruises, moving to her waist and brushing upwards to eventually cup her hand on Enid’s clothed breast, watching with intrigue as Enid shivers under her touch. She squeezes gently and Enid hums softly in response; shallow breathing betrays her excitement. Wednesday poises the knife.

“It is a diagonal this time.” Wednesday murmurs lowly. “It will hurt more, amor.”

“I know.” Replies Enid.

Wednesday knows that she knows. She just wanted to say it out loud.

Eyes glance quickly to meet Enid’s gaze; a quiet nod is exchanged. With a flick of her hand, the tip of Wednesday’s knife paints Enid’s skin with a silver burned cut. Enid whines into the room, back arching; hands writhing. She moans, heady and low… and then silence falls as she stares up at Wednesday, chest heaving.

Wednesday leans back and quickly discards the knife. Watching Enid, she feels like willing prey waiting upon her predator.

She dares to slowly blink and is met by Enid’s hands grabbing at her and flipping her onto her back. It’s swift; calculated, with Enid ending perfectly poised on top of her. Wednesday’s entire body feels awash with thunder and her clit throbs with a desperate need. Enid can and will ruin her… and she looks forward to every second.

Enid runs her hand over the fresh mark on her ribcage, hissing. She lets out a tense breath and leers close to Wednesday, her arms pinned either side of Wednesday’s shoulders. Then a wicked smiles plays upon Enid’s lips, and Wednesday both knows and does not know what is about to happen to her… but it’s likely going to be rough, and she couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

With a shuddering breath, Enid surges her lips against Wednesday’s, hands coming to Wednesday’s jaw with a bruising grip. Lips crashing, tongues pushing into mouths, this kiss is not one of simple love – but one of dark desire and greed. Enid claims Wednesday in her own way with this kiss, as she has done every time their ritualistic marking is done.

Wednesday is not one to make noise, but she feels a moan pull from her throat, and Enid responds with a growl; it is hungry and aggressive, and sends arousal pooling in Wednesday’s abdomen.

She wants to be taken. She yearns for it.

It is primal, the way Enid then grabs Wednesday’s arms and yanks them above her head as her mouth continues to explore. She kisses, and bites, and marks her way from Wednesday’s mouth, to her cheek, jaw, then neck. Enid does not draw blood, but Wednesday almost hopes she will… the thought alone drives her mind wild.

“M-more.” Wednesday groans, squirming slightly. She craves these violent delights. This draws an amused hum from Enid as she then bites slightly harder, sharp teeth digging in. Wednesday feels a slight puncture; feels Enid’s warm tongue against her cold neck. She shudders and Enid hums again. Wednesday breathing hitches, a murmured obscenity lost in the tilt of her breath. She catches a hint of red on Enid’s lips.

Enid offers a feral smile as she glances up, continuing to leave trail of small bruises in her wake, and Wednesday cranes her head down, breath hitching again, to watch with carnal desire as a painting is made of her. Enid does not stop – and does not seem to plan on stopping until Wednesday is but a crumbling artwork of her own design.

She uses one hand to hold Wednesday’s still, the other coming around Wednesday’s back, leaving a few light scratches before making light work of her bra clasps. A quick shuffle to remove the garment ensues before Enid is back at it, her mouth free to lick and kiss around Wednesday’s free breasts. She is more tender here but only for a moment. She bites on Wednesday’s nipple, free hand grazing Wednesday’s side and a whine is pulled from Wednesday’s mouth, hips bucking into Enid’s own.

Enid purrs, “Desperate, are we?”

“N-never.” Wednesday retorts, the gasp of her breath betraying the snark she tries to offer. “I need not be desperate for what I already possess.”

Even if these words are her truth, she knows it will drive Enid wild – make Enid insist on pleading and begging before Wednesday gets even a true stroke of pressure where she desperately needs it. Wednesday throbs at the idea… she cannot wait to be pushed to breaking point.

And drive Enid wild it does. She growls, human claws raking at Wednesday’s sides; hedonistic pleasure and torture all the same. She huffs slightly, climbing off of Wednesday and heading to the bag full of their equipment from their prior activities. She rummages through it. Wednesday remains on the bed, anticipation building, feeling herself grow wetter and wetter as it dawns upon her what Enid is looking for. She does not need a vision for such a guess.

Enid returns, bundle of rope in hand. She grins darkly at Wednesday.

“Possess, you say?” Enid asks as she straddles over Wednesday once more, running the rope through her hands and lightly twisting it through her fingers. Wednesday’s eyes follow the motions of her hands with laden want, before quickly flicking back up. It feels like there’s lightning in her spine.

“Of course. Would you prefer I say that I own you, amor?”

Enid does not dignify a response as her hands gently but firmly begin looping the rope around Wednesday’s wrists. She barely even looks as she ties them up, offering a smug and challenging smile when she finally tugs and tightens the knots. She need not answer such a bait question – Wednesday knows as much… but Wednesday can hope all the same.

Wednesday glances at her hands. Her mouth goes dry. Gods, this is how she always longs to be - Tied up; at the mercy of her bubbly yet deadly girlfriend. If only other people knew what they got up to… Not that Wednesday wishes for others to know. They do not deserve to. What happens between her and Enid is private act of unholy communion, and none are worthy of learning their devilish acts.

Wednesday lets out a satisfied sigh as Enid tugs her bound hands upwards and ties them to the headboard. It’s just the right amount of uncomfortable to make her ache for the oasis of Enid’s touch. Perfection.

“Now you’re mine.” Enid murmurs lovingly, as she traces a finger down Wednesday’s jaw. Her free hand runs along the delicate curve of Wednesday’s arm, before moving to Wednesday’s ribcage, down to her waist, resting there with her thumb rubbing slow circles.

Wednesday does nothing but tug lightly on her restraints as Enid dips back down and begins kissing and biting at her breasts again. The response is the same as before – Wednesday’s hips bucking; a quiet whine buried in her gentle gasps. Only this time there is nowhere to go, no freedom of movement to allow herself some control, and oh, how intoxicating that feeling is. Like being swallowed by a delicious darkness.

Enid continues to kiss at Wednesday’s body. Both her hands come downwards, brushing and teasing along Wednesday’s pale skin, eventually reaching the waistband of Wednesday’s underwear… but she does not offer Wednesday the satisfaction of removing the garment. No, that would be too easy. Enid’s hands travel down further, lightly raking nails on Wednesday’s thighs, and Wednesday releases a breathy sound, gladly accepting the ache she has signed up for… but Enid is nothing but relentless and as she continues to scratch at Wednesday’s leg, she brings a knee between Wednesday’s thighs and presses it against her core.

Wednesday groans and writhes, tugging at the ropes as she tries to pull herself down, searching for more. Enid does not give her the satisfaction and pulls her knee back. She smiles.

“This is what you want, right baby?” She hums, pressing a sinful sweet kiss to Wednesday’s lips. She lingers close, a thread of saliva hanging between their mouths that she laps up with a second capture of Wednesday’s mouth.

Wednesday looks at her as they separate, chest heaving.

“Yes… Just a little more and I shall beg as pathetically as Xavier did for his life”

Enid lets out a second, amused hum, as she brings her knee back against Wednesday’s wet panties, offering a painfully languid grind as she continues dancing her clawed nails across the pale swatch of Wednesday’s thighs. There are red raised marks left in her wake that leaves Wednesday hissing but there’s a sadistic little smile on her face.

“I crave you, cariño,” She sighs out. “Harder.”

Enid obliges with a purr, digging in her nails; Wednesday whines in response. Like static straight through her nerves, Wednesday’s back arches with little control, making her jolt against the restraints, Enid’s knee pressed against her cunt doing very little in terms of helping the growing desperation that builds inside her. She is already so close to demanding her needs be tended to. She is sure Enid can tell.

The smirk across Enid’s face as she leans closer for another kiss says it all. She leers just above Wednesday’s lips, meeting Wednesday’s gaze, the smug expression growing wider as Wednesday chases her mouth… and distracted by this kiss, Wednesday is left unaware of Enid’s intentions until she feels a hand tease her underwear waistband before dipping inside.

But no relief comes.

Wednesday stares intently at Enid.

“Darling.” She says sternly.

“Wednesday.” Enid replies, humming sweetly, dipping her fingers a little lower until they are just teasing the edges of Wednesday’s folds. “I do not hear any begging, but something tells me you want it.”

A feathery brush of fingertips; Wednesday’s breath catching in her throat.

“Perhaps…” She breathes out.

“Then ask, baby…”

Wednesday looks at her defiantly.

“Earn it.”

Enid rolls her eyes, but smiles still. She kisses down Wednesday’s jaw again, stopping at her neck again as her hand continues it’s gentle teasing touch. She kisses and soothes over the existing marks and bruises, moving to the side she had previously neglected. Her fingers continue to tempt submission. Seeing the tensing of Wednesday’s throat, Enid eagerly bites down again. Her teeth sink into Wednesday’s soft neck with ease.

Wednesday isn’t sure what sorcery Enid has pulled, but the combination of the bite with the subtle strokes of her fingers sends a surge of arousal through her, making her lower stomach feel like a cavern that aches like nothing before. She writhes, and a whine is pulled from her throat that makes her face blush a pale pink. She doesn’t know what comes over her.

“Fuck.” She groans. “Fuck, Enid.”

Wednesday stares at Enid, taken aback. She knows she wanted this - but shit, if she doesn’t feel exposed. It is exhilarating; terrifying even, to beg so unabashedly… but Gods, she couldn’t need Enid’s hands inside her more if she tried.

Enid moves her head up to look at Wednesday with a tilted smug smile. A drop of blood sits on her mouth corner.

“Yes?” She purrs.

“In me. Now.” Wednesday pleads. “I need it. I need you.”

“Finally,” Enid mewls, with a carnal look in her eye. Pressing a kiss to Wednesday’s lips, she then parts Wednesday’s folds and glides her fingertips through Wednesday’s slick, brushing her clit ever so softly.

The pleasure is instant, Wednesday gasping and grinding her hips as Enid’s fingers apply just the right amount of pressure to where that throbbing ache has sat all this time. She wishes she could push herself down more, but frustratingly she is held in place by the ropes, which rub and burn at her wrists. It hurts like a bitch… but Wednesday can’t deny it only makes her wetter.

Enid watches this desperation with a dark enjoyment. She hums amusedly, circling Wednesday’s clit before dipping down to tease Wednesday’s entrance.

A restrained moan passes Wednesday’s lips, laced with desperation. What follows is a gasp and shudder as Enid wastes no time sliding a finger inside Wednesday; a second added in quick succession.

Now, the way that Enid and Wednesday fuck varies - they can be slow and sensual, fun and experimental, but this? This is pure hedonism, fuelled by adrenaline and desire. That is to say – Enid starts thrusting her fingers in and out of Wednesday’s pussy with an unstoppable fervour, taking little notice of whether it is gentle enough… not that Wednesday minds, as the roughness is exactly what she craves. Enid’s fingers curl at each push, brushing that sensitive spot inside, that makes Wednesday whine and buck her hips in a way that most people would deem uncharacteristic… but it’s not - not when it’s Enid fucking her like a slut who deserves every rough bit of pleasure that she is so gracefully offered.

This is it, this is her prize for finally removing one of the biggest thorns in her side since they were kids. Though his death may be a prize in and of itself, the trophy of Enid’s touch certainly makes the pedestal of success that much richer. Wednesday’s head tilts back. Her eyes shut and her mouth hangs open in a silent cry; behind her eyes she sees the scenes all over again, their poignancy only exacerbated by each stroke of Enid’s fingers:

Xavier scared for his life, and wolf Enid chasing him down. Blood… so much blood, and savagery. Raw; chaotic, yet graceful as claws penetrate his chest. Then the satisfaction as Wednesday confirmed the kill herself with a slice to the throat. Silence. Satisfaction – a job well done.

Those once bloodied claws are now Enid’s hands, fucking her within an inch of her life – though her nails are no longer the beastly shape they once were, there’s a ferocity that has Wednesday panting and moaning the more she thinks on what those hands have done. She tugs on the ropes, itching to grip her fingers into Enid thighs and let her feel the tenseness coursing her veins

Enid watches Wednesday struggle and come undone. She smirks, never dropping pace.

“You like that?” She purrs as she leans closer to Wednesday’s face.

Wednesday pulls her eyes open. She stares at Enid and nods, wincing as she feels a tightness beginning to build inside her, swirling in her lower stomach like the apex of a storm. With how far she let herself be teased, it was foolish to think she’d last long. Enid flashes a grin.

“Mm... so dark and mysterious, but such a good girl for me, aren’t you baby?” She teases.

Wednesday cannot even muster a snarky response before her voice is stolen by a whine as Enid slips a third finger inside. She even angles the base of her palm to grind against Wednesday’s clit – subjecting Wednesday to a wealth of stimulation that crackles through her core. The coil inside her tightens inexplicably quick, as though being thrown right into the depths of a hurricane.

Not yet-

It’s too soon.

Enid continues to slide her fingers in and out. Each push of her digits strikes Wednesday’s g-spot with an unforgiving drag. Her palm teases and grinds Wednesday’s pulsing clit with each uncontrollable writhe of her body. Wednesday catches a mischievous flicker in Enid’s eye.

Not-… No-

Enid trails kisses from the corner of Wednesday’s mouth, across her jaw, and up to her ear. She lingers for just a second, biting softly on Wednesday’s earlobe before a whisper makes its way to Wednesday’s ear.

“Cum for me.”

White noise.

White noise is all Wednesday hears as the coil inside her snaps free and she is thrown to the apex of climax. She silently loathes the speed at which it happens; yet greedily accepts the tidal wave of bliss. A guttural moan pierces the silence as Wednesday feels her insides tighten and shudder, with Enid’s free hand coming to cup her jaw as she offers a proud, loving smile. The orgasm is intense, breathtakingly so, leaving Wednesday wide eyed and overstimulated. It is pleasure beyond all describable words.

Enid coaxes her through it, her pace turning languid as Wednesday’s dripping slick makes it difficult to maintain any sort of friction. She eventually pulls her hand out, recognising the way Wednesday’s nerves are now frazzled and fried.

It is a moment of euphoria, slowly lost as reality seeps back into Wednesday’s vision, and she can feel nothing but the thrum of her heart and a warmth bleeding into her spine. Perfection.

Wednesday releases a tense breath; her body goes limp. This is everything she wanted, and more - Pleasure in pain, and pain in pleasure. She looks at the results of their fun, glancing downwards at her roughened, marked skin and even lower, to a wet patch on the mattress… it seems her underwear did little to contain the aftermath.

She looks at Enid, who smiles at her and presses a kiss to her lips. She unties the ropes and Wednesday’s arms fall to her sides, shaky; wrists bruised and friction burned.

Neither of them will forget this night for a long time. For a multitude of reasons.

Enid presses a kiss to the wounds, and to every other wound inflicted – whether by her, or their earlier victim. Wednesday watches in silence as she gathers her bearings. A moment later and Enid is curled up against her, seemingly exhausted.

Wednesday brings a shaking hand to the fresh kill mark on Enid’s ribcage. Her thumb brushes across it gently and despite a gentle wince, Enid does not complain. She smiles, in fact.

“Energy spent, amor?” Wednesday enquires. Her voice is but a rasp.

Enid hums softly, nuzzling into Wednesday and nodding.

“Yes…” She sighs.

How wondrous; how deeply taboo their recent acts have been, and yet Wednesday could not imagine anything better… Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Murder as foreplay is not a permanent thing in this life. A shame, truly.

A quick glance at the cheap LED clock on the night stand reveals only a short while until the collection team come to deal with Xavier. It means that – for now – there is no more time for enjoying the alluring pheromone of adrenaline. It is a pity, but there will be more time later. At least there is time for a brief rest and recovery after such an exhilarating night.

Wednesday can only hope their next mark is half as exciting as this one has been… because she lays now, in this filthy bed, in this cheap dilapidated hotel... and despite her usual standards; her desire for the finer things in life - she could not picture a finer way for the evening to close. Truly, a defining moment. One she will remember for a long, long time.

She kisses Enid.

Blood marred lips have never tasted sweeter.

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 2 years ago

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Old Wounds - Wenclair fic, chapter 35 (Final Chapter)

Description: Now aged 22, Wednesday Addams is an up-and-coming author. Her time at Nevermore is well behind her, and she is alone, and that suits her just fine...But when a 'new' neighbour shows up in her apartment building, she'll truly be tested on whether her "bad habit" of caring truly has been broken. (Hint: It hasn't.)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Mature (Fic is fully SFW up to Chapter 20)

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Click Here To Read This Chapter On AO3 or keep reading below!

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Wednesday did not believe she cared about places and things. Generally speaking it is true – she does not care about her surrounding so long as her body may tend to its needs, and her possessions could be lost, for they can all be replaced. She is not sentimental. She never has been. Everything turns to dust eventually, and she is no exception to this rule.

Except...maybe she is sentimental. Maybe in the deep, darkest crevices of her black little heart, there is some measure of ache for the homes she once knew, and the items lost to time… her old dorm room at Nevermore; the snood she left behind to escape the Hyde. Curiously, her sentimentality seems tied to Enid, as many things seem to be – As if Enid is the key to Wednesday remembering her humanity and the place it has in her life.

Whatever the case, Wednesday may deny it. She will definitely, in fact. Especially now, as she stands in the empty shell of her old apartment, a suitcase in hand, feeling a sense of dread as she faces the last few moments within the confines of this dark and dreary space. It has been such a perfect home for her.

Enid approaches, taking a thoughtful look around, before nudging Wednesday’s side. She offers a reassuring smile. Wednesday feels herself settle slightly.

“It’s totally crazy, right?” Enid says softly. “We’re about to head to our new home.”

Wednesday notes a bloodstain on the carpet, previously hidden by her couch. She had forgotten about it, and finds the slightest hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she is reminded of how her darling brother had nearly bled himself half to death in that spot, upon insisting he could sew his own sutures faster than she. He was wrong, and nearly died. It was wonderfully entertaining. The bloodstain is a permanent fixture and one Wednesday adores – but she also desired a larger couch, so it was regretfully covered up. It is nice to get a final look at it before she leaves. Enid has also looked at it, but has very wisely decided not to ask. She is not built for such stories.

Wednesday takes Enid’s hand, guiding them gently away so they face into the kitchen instead. She looks at her empty counter tops.

“It is certainly a strange feeling.” Wednesday agrees, her voice somewhat wistful before dropping back into it’s usual monotony. “But all things must end.”

She then glances at Enid, frowning in thought.

“Are all of your things packed?”

“Yeah! I don’t know who those guys are that your parents called, but they’re super efficient. And pale.”

“My mother’s legion of undead helpers,” Wednesday answers, nodding slightly. “They do not divulge in conversation much, but they are very hard workers.”

Enid looks speechless for a second, but shakes herself out of it, smiling amusedly. It seems she is perhaps fully catching up to the Addams’ kooky ways and is realising it is better not to question it, but simply accept the weirdness as it comes. It lights a small flame of pride in Wednesday’s chest. Despite what her blank expression and dry tone may indicate, she can only feel delight at knowing she is about to start living with this piece of sunshine-made-human… Any other version of her would’ve baulked, called herself pathetic… but Wednesday feels nothing but a deep and admirable warmth as she watches Enid pad gently into the kitchen and playfully spin in a circle. She is ridiculous, yes; perhaps overwhelmingly colourful too – but Enid is the only person that Wednesday could ever accept that from. More than accept. Adore, even.

Enid spins again, stumbling slightly and laughing.

“I’m going to miss this kitchen.” She says idly.

“You’re going to miss my kitchen?” Wednesday asks, as her brow quirks upwards.

“Yeah I spent a lot of time in here.”

“Eating my food, I remember.”

Enid stops dancing around, approaching Wednesday to steal a kiss from her lips. She smiles.

“I didn’t see you complaining.” She replies.

Wednesday remains quiet. She glances to the side and tuts thoughtfully.

Enid simply smirks, her smile growing wider by the second as she takes Wednesday’s hands in her own.

“… I suppose not.”

Enid hums, satisfied with the answer. She then lets go, skipping towards Wednesday’s doorway to collect the backpack she left there, containing the last few essentials she held onto. Glancing at the time, Wednesday now realises – it’s time to go. As of midday this apartment is no longer hers. It’s five minutes past now, meaning she has already overstayed her technical welcome. It is time for some other poor fool to deal with the bloodstained carpet; tend to the random creaky pipes, and, consistently try to seek out the rat that lives in the wall. Truly it has been the perfect apartment. Hopefully her parents will find a tenant who will appreciate it as much as she did… or they’ll change the carpets, fix the plumbing and call an animal removal service. Unfortunate if the case.

Regardless, it’s time she leaves. Wednesday takes a few steps towards the door, feeling her stomach grow heavy. She turns her head back and pauses.

“What is it?” Enid asks, concerned suddenly.

Wednesday sighs, shaking her head. This sentimental pain is pointless. She stares for just a moment longer, taking in the meagre lighting, darkly painted walls and counter tops. Where they are heading is inarguably better; nicer than anything she could desire… but it is different, and Wednesday does not like different. Unless it is Enid. She can like it if it’s Enid.

She turns her head back to Enid now. Wednesday will face this change with a brave stoic face, knowing it is Enid who is the catalyst for desiring change at all. Wednesday refuses to let her pathetic emotions slow her down, anyway. She grabs her own bag and hoists it onto her shoulder.

Fishing the apartment key from her pocket, they then walk out together, silence falling as Wednesday locks the apartment for the last time. She will return the key to her parents later.

Enid takes Wednesday by her free hand and they walk together towards the stairwell.

As they exit the apartment building together, they see the last of the moving trucks disappearing off into the streets of New York, leaving just Lurch and the family car awaiting them. Wednesday is glad she convinced Enid to utilise her parents assets as opposed to booking an Uber. God forbid her first memories of arriving at their new home feature any potential for hearing modern pop music blasting from the shitty sound-system of some poor Millennial normie’s Honda civic. No, the hearse is a much better option.

Lurch takes their bags and places them in the trunk before swinging back around to the driver’s seat. Wednesday and Enid settle into the passenger seats, both staring out the window at the building that is no longer their home. Enid takes Wednesday’s hands and gives it a squeeze.

The car gently pulls away from the building. Enid hums softly. Relaxing back into her seat, she then closes her eyes and sits, a gentle smile playing her lips.

Wednesday turns her attention to her, gaze softening the second she sees the contented look upon her girlfriend’s face. There is a flurry of feelings running through her head right now. Anticipation seems to the one that wins out – a fluttery spark of something that has Wednesday on the metaphorical edge of her seat (although she would never sit in such a way), now that she has pushed away the space where her sentimentality had lived. She squeezes Enid’s hand in return.

Onto their next adventure.

The drive to their new apartment isn’t long – Not long enough, in any case. It is supposedly twenty minutes but it would seem that time is playing tricks, and it is most inconvenient. Annoying, even. Wednesday is in the middle of kissing at Enid’s neck after a conversation about their future – that Wednesday was completely fine and normal about – when the car judders to a stop, and the sound of boxes and furniture being moved fills the air around them. It would seem they have arrived. The engine clicks off.

Wednesday sighs slightly, pulling away.

“Some other time.” She grumbles as she mourns the loss of Enid’s electric touch.

Enid giggles sweetly.

“Priorities, Wends.” She hums, turning now to look out at their new apartment building. She freezes and gasps. There’s a dramatic pause. And then, quietly, two words tumble from Enid’s mouth. “Holy shit.”

Wednesday shuffles and peeks through the window herself. The slightest hint of a smile curls upwards on her mouth, and despite her prior angst, seeing Enid’s reaction settles something in her. This is perfect – and perfection is not something Wednesday finds easily.

“It is most impressive in person, is it not?” Wednesday says proudly.

Enid does not answer. Instead, she pulls the door of the hearse open, stumbling out, taking a few quick steps to stare up at the towering apartment block. Wednesday cannot see the grin on her face, but she knows it is there. Enid turns back to her then with that predicted smile plastered brightly upon her lips. Her hands gesture excitedly, urging Wednesday to join her.

And Wednesday does. She slides herself out of the vehicle, approaching Enid, coming to a stop a few steps earlier as she watches her mother’s legion of workers tend to their packed furnishings.

It’s happening. It’s really happening.

She and Enid stand outside the building for what seems like an hour, but perhaps is only fifteen minutes or so, before taking the elevator up to their apartment floor. As the doors open, they are met by a few of the movers, who greet them with an idle grunt as they trudge through the hall with their boxes.

Wednesday had visited the apartment prior to moving, but now as they enter it, their belongings strewn around them, it feels a lot different. Especially now Enid is here. It is more serious, almost; more real. But somehow nicer, too.

It’s been painted since Wednesday saw, a muted white contrasting against the decorative wooden beams across the ceiling. This new apartment is a modern yet cosy space, emulating some minor rustic design whilst remaining premium. Wednesday is glad for it. Whilst she enjoys the stark coldness of modern design, she finds it lacks character. This space certainly finds a palatable mid-point… and as for Enid? She is enamoured. More than enamoured, for she is walking around with a wet-eyed smile beaming across her face. Wednesday knows this is what she deserves – that is, the best.

There is no measure of shitty ‘hatred of change’ angst that could stop her relishing in this moment.

What follows is a whirlwind six hours as Wednesday and Enid direct and sort and begin to mould this space to their liking. With an open plan kitchen-diner, a separate living room, office, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, not to mention a balcony space – this new home certainly needs arranging. It takes a bit of negotiating (particularly as they argue whose bed will be theirs and whose becomes the guest bed) but they get it done. Fortunately the undead workers physically cannot complain. Then, as they go around each room, they decide whose furniture will go where. Wednesday mostly claims the office, though there are desks for them both, and Enid mostly claims the living room, her various gaming consoles filling the TV stand. Each space becomes a little of each of them, melding just as it did in Wednesday’s old apartment – only now, there is room for it to breathe. It is truly their space once and for all.

Then, comes the bookshelves. Perhaps one of the most important things when it comes to their personal belongings.

Wisely, the book shelves are placed in the small hall space between the living room and office, allowing them to be accessed from either room without much hassle. Wednesday takes left, Enid takes right. A simple agreement, thankfully.

Whilst sorting through a box, Wednesday happens upon a familiar book. Her own. The very same one she saw upon her first visit to Enid’s old apartment. How strange it seems to hold it now, after all this time. She picks it up, noticing the lightly furled pages and tattered spine. It has been read again since she last saw. It is a shame to see a book so worn but Wednesday can only assume that such poor condition means it is well loved, in a strange sort of way. She would not treat her own books this way but regardless it lights a small warmth in her black heart.

Enid glances over.

“Oh, You should read that! It’s super dark, totally up your alley.”

Wednesday holds it out to Enid, her face remaining stoic. Her eyebrow quirks slightly.

“An astute recommendation” She replies. “Though, you will be disappointed to know I have already read it.”

Enid takes the book, finding a slot for it in her bookshelf after a thoughtful hum. She pauses after, scowling, her mouth hung open in a silent question as she turns back. Her eyes brush over Wednesday’s own bookcase.

“You...don’t have your own copy though?” She queries.

A beat passes.

“I wrote it.” Comes Wednesday’s answer. “I have the manuscript.”

She expected her heart to thump when this moment came; for her stomach to drop into a pit or a void or something equally deathly, but no. Her admittance comes out simply as if recounting a news story. She is not sure why… No one, and she means no one knows her writer alias. In most cases, she would rather claw out her own vocal chords than tell someone. Wednesday has even neglected to tell Enid up until this point, feeling a sense of safety in knowing her writing remains a separate entity from herself – a voice she can escape to when the world is unbearable. Which is often, frankly. The world is largely a terrible and undeserving place.

Perhaps that is why she is suddenly so open to Enid knowing. Enid is too, a safe place for Wednesday to escape to, especially now as they begin their lives together living in the same space. Maybe this is just the last secret to let go of.

Wednesday cannot believe she has let go of them all in the first place. Love is truly a curse… but one she will bare with a white knuckle grip so long as it is Enid.

Enid stares at her. She blinks once; twice.

“What?”

“I wrote it Enid.”

“No...no I heard you, I just- what?!”

The slightest hint of a smirk pulls onto Wednesday’s face. If she had known this would be Enid’s reaction, perhaps she would’ve considered telling her sooner.

“Judging from your taste in colour, I know your eyes do not work properly...but do not tell me your ears are suddenly failing too.”

Enid plays mock offence and playfully hits Wednesday with one of her books. Wednesday hits back with a side glare, refusing to humour such childish behaviour. However it seems Enid is quick to change tact, as she suddenly discards the remaining books needing to be sorted back into the box and all but begs to talk about Wednesday’s book.

“Ohmygosh you have to tell me everything!!” Enid squeals.

Admittedly, this is not something Wednesday had prepared for.

Regardless, she just about allows herself to be dragged away from her precious organisation and into the (kind of organised) living room.

This consequently leads into another two hours of time disappearing, both Wednesday and Enid locked in conversation that mostly consists of Enid excitedly chattering. Wednesday does not mind, even with her mind constantly drawn back to the mess around them. She is glad what little information she offers provides such enjoyment – despite the fact her book itself is rather horrific, ironically. It is strange Enid likes it to begin with, though Wednesday supposes she should not be surprised that Enid breaks expectations. She always has.

And by the time they are finished, the sun has dipped out the sky and the night is drawing in. They have still not finished unpacking... Perhaps it was foolish to believe it could be done in one day, but Wednesday stubbornly wishes to keep working at it, determined to at least organise the last of the living room so she can feel a little bit not psychotic about the various boxes scattered around.

However, after only five minutes Enid is in her personal space, warm hands interlinking with Wednesday’s own, pulling her away from a box and to her feet. She is irritated she cannot continue… but cannot be mad at Enid when her eyes are so warm and her smile so loving. Enid pulls Wednesdays hands around her waist and begins to slowly rock from side to side. It is a poor imitation of dancing – not that Wednesday will say as much. Her heart thumps loudly in her chest, regardless. She does not understand why this is happening. Maybe she doesn’t need to.

“It’s been a long day.” Enid hums softly.

Wednesday begins to protest, stating she be allowed to keep working. Enid shushes her, holding tightly as they keep slow-dancing in place.

“No more tonight, Wends. We can work on it tomorrow.”

Wednesday goes to protest further, but is stopped by the gentle press of Enid’s lips against hers. The kiss is sweet, captivating, filled with a contentedness that seems to have only grown as their living quarters has. It is electric. It’s just… Enid.

“We can work on it tomorrow,” Enid repeats. “And the next day...and the day after that too. Until it’s done.”

Wednesday frowns.

“You underestimate my organisational skills.”

Enid kisses Wednesday again, a soft laugh tumbling out of her mouth against Wednesday’s lips. She slowly spins Wednesday around as they dance.

“Let me be romantic, baby.” Enid smirks.

They continue to dance. It slowly becomes more composed, as Wednesday subtly leads Enid into the right positions; shows the right steps. After some time, they are nearly waltzing – the boxes on the floor long forgotten, even by Wednesday herself. It is ridiculous. Dancing in a living room… what is the purpose, truly?

There is no purpose, Wednesday supposes to herself. It is simply done because one wants to. She did not know she wanted to until Enid made it so. What a strange thing.

Wednesday lets out a sharp hum.

“Fine.” She replies, but her soft gaze betrays her blunt tone.

And so they dance more. And they kiss. In their new home that they share. Perhaps they will dance all evening and simply just enjoy the new space they find themselves in. It might be messy right now, and it might take some time to adjust… but Wednesday does not think she would change it for the world. She can only hope Enid feels the same.

It’s taken them a short while, with old wounds re-opened and reddened once more – but this time, they’ve gotten to heal right. They’ve gotten to heal together.

And Wednesday… well, she is not alone.

And that suits her.

Just fine. x-x-x-x-x-x A/N:

Hello, my loves

This is the end of Old Wounds. Thank you so much for joining me as I wrote this fic over the last 8 months. It's been such a joy to write :D

Thank you for every comment and kind word. It's really meant a lot <3

As of posting this (8th August 2023), I will be taking a short break from fanfic writing - however, please keep an eye out because I have two fics planned! A oneshot based in the same universe as Old Wounds (but able to be read separately), alongside an entirely new multi-chapter!

As always, thank you for reading. I'll see you in the comments.

- Hatchet <3

#Wenclair #Wednesday x Enid #Enid x Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #Wednesday Netflix #fanfic #Ao3

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 2 years ago

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Old Wounds - Wenclair fic, chapter 34

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Mature (Fic is fully SFW up to Chapter 20)

Click Here For Previous Chapter

Click Here To Read This Chapter On AO3 or keep reading below!

x-x-x-x-x-x

After a restless night, Wednesday awakes to her empty bed. Despite having owned this bed for a long time, it is the first time it has felt far too big and far too lonely. It is an inconvenient feeling. It is as though, within such a short period of time, a space that was hers has become unfamiliar and strange; missing something that it has never previously needed... and with the realisation from the previous evening, seeing that empty spot in the dimmed morning light - well, it makes Wednesday’s chest squeeze uncomfortably.

She is glad to have figured out her predicament, but this only leads her into more questions; more puzzles to solve. Her body is still thick with sleep though, and she cannot think yet, but her black little heart yearns for Enid’s presence by her side – this much she can feel. Her thoughts will come to her later.

Wednesday glances at the clock on her bed side table. It is barely 6am. It is the perfect time to awaken and seize the day. If this was any other day it would be, at least. Today Wednesday does not feel motivation for much at all, despite her previous determination to catch up to speed with her novel. Perhaps she simply needs to push her affections aside and push forward. She is still 6000 words or so behind, after all…

But with each bleary eyed blink, Wednesday’s thoughts come back to Enid; come back to the home she desires them to have. Together. Wednesday is more than aware that she is not someone to drop something once she wants it. Ugh.

It’s fine. This is fine. Wednesday needs to think first anyway. She cannot run into this head first, as much as she would love to do exactly that… But no.

No, what she needs is… Sigh. Advice.

She baulks at the thought.

Wednesday Addams does not ask for advice.

She figured out how to filet a body by the age of 6; She wrote her first novel as a teenager. She has never needed advice on anything… though, that may be a slight exaggeration. What Wednesday means to think is that seeking advice is to show weakness and she has only shown such vulnerability a few times before – each time more painful than the last.

And, much to her chagrin, she cannot even ask Enid for this assistance.

So who does it leave? Well. Just her mother, of course.

Maybe the baristas at the coffee bar, seeing as they clearly know everything about she and Enid… though, Wednesday has likely burned all her bridges with them by this point (after totally not breaking the manager’s arm alongside other minor acts of terrorism) and she cannot stand the idea of pretending to be approachable just for a modicum of self gain. It’s not worth it. No one is worth that effort, frankly. Imbeciles.

Sighing, Wednesday sits up and swings her legs out of the bed. She pads quietly out of the room, irked by the silence that is so void of Enid’s gentle hum, or the joyous monotonous tone of her typing on her laptop, or even (much to Wednesday’s behest) the annoying little sounds of that elven man on her gaming device. Wednesday has grown strangely invested in the plot… though, she is frankly hoping the maleficent forces win and overrule the world. Enid has told her that’s not how the game works. Wednesday disagrees.

Not that Wednesday thinks about it frequently, regardless… Anyway-

Walking into the living room, Wednesday eyes her forgotten manuscript in the typewriter. There’s a page sticking out, flopped over after being so passively abandoned. Wednesday approaches the desk. Looking at the page, she reads over the writing, noting the subtle romantic whims that have crept into the subtext between the antagonist and villain once again. Prior to Enid, she had disgusted herself with such words, and even now it seems abnormal… but perhaps now she sees the tension written in their narrative: spitting words and blinding fights, never wanting to face anyone but each other. Her two characters are enemies, yes, but they only wound each other, searching endlessly to leave the final blow. They hate each other but… do they?

Wednesday removes the page, holding it in her hands. For a second she is tempted to screw it up; abandon it, and never let it see the light of day. Her readers might think her mad for something so uncouth… But, it’s her book. It’s her life. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.

Wednesday adds the page to the manuscript pile. She will never forgive Enid for this.

(She will. She already has.)

She stares at the page for another moment, before pulling herself away to deal with the chores of the morning. She knows her mother will have the answers she seeks, but she cannot contact her yet, for her mother insists on at least 8 hours of beauty sleep a night. With the current time, that equals at least another hour.

Suffice to say, it drags. An hour can sometimes feel like a blip, and other times an endless stretch of void that sucks any remaining willingness to live from your soul. Frankly, the hour that Wednesday experiences is very much the latter. Despite tidying, preparing breakfast, showering, sharpening her throwing knives; not to mention refilling her whisky decanters, re-organising Enid’s tea collection, and taking a short walk to collect her mail from the day prior, Wednesday is still left with 15 minutes of spare time. Enid has said the way she is productive breaks the space-time continuum. Wednesday simply believes other people are just slow.

The last 15 minutes passes with what Wednesday can only describe as psychosis-inducing slowness. Nothing on this Godless earth seems to resolve the way time seems to drag, and Wednesday finds herself slipping lower and lower into her couch, awaiting the sweet peace of death – as it would likely come sooner than the turn of the hour.

Her eyes bore into the ceiling, tracing invisible patterns, and she thinks maybe finally she might have lost it. Her mind, that is.

Five minutes until 7am – Her phone begins to ring.

So much for slipping into insanity...

Wednesday rushes over to it, scowling, but answering without a second of hesitation.

“Hello, little raven.” Comes her mother’s dulcet voice. There’s a knowing lull to her tone, and oh, how it makes Wednesday’s chest tighten. Her mother knows something. Of course – she always does.

“Mother.” Wednesday greets stiffly in return.

There’s a thoughtful murmur that comes through the speaker; it is clear Morticia hears the tension in Wednesday’s voice, and questions her next words… but she is still her mother and has no qualms about making her intentions clear. It is not the Addams way to speak coyly.

“I am to assume you have figured out your predicament?”

“I am to assume you have also.” Wednesday quips back.

Morticia hums airily.

“Of course, that is why I knew to call you, dear. Do keep up.”

Wednesday is silent for a moment, rolling her eyes...But then as the moment settles, the question she wants to ask claws at her throat. It feels violent, the way it suddenly wishes to erupt from her mouth, but unfortunately, she is yet to find a way to ask that does not admit weakness nor fear of the situation she is presented with. Even if it is her mother, she cannot stand the idea of receiving pity for such feelings. She hopes her mother simply prompts it instead. For once, Wednesday believes her mother’s insatiable desire to be a know-it-all may come in useful – she simply needs to let her mother pry. She hates that idea as well… but it is arguably more palatable than any other course of action.

Wednesday remains silent; she knows her mother will wish to fill the silence any second now.

…

Any. Second.

“So… you and Enid living together, hm?”

Sweet, gut-wrenching relief. The topic being broached feels like both the calmness of death finally approaching and yet also the unpleasant feeling when the sun creeps through the clouds on a rainy day. That is to say Wednesday accepts its approach, but it is begrudging at best. Though, it is not as though she has a choice – she simply cannot live with this want of hers left unmanaged.

Wednesday lets out a quiet sigh.

“Yes. I do not understand why I desire such a thing.”

“You know why, Wednesday.”

Wednesday pauses. Regretfully, her mother is correct. She always is; it’s infuriating. It’s quite simple really. It is love. Love, and yearning – nothing more, nothing less. It is disgusting… yet Wednesday craves it, still.

She cannot believe Enid has done this to her. The audacity.

(She loves her more than anything.)

What Wednesday expects to follow is an unsolicited story-time from her mother, that details the dull, lengthy – and likely excessively romantic - process of how her father came to ask her mother to live with him. Undoubtedly it involves at least one musical number or piano ballad, and some blood oath exchange. Wednesday can already feel the second-hand embarrassment crawling up her spine.

Unexpectedly, this does not come to pass. Instead her mother is shockingly practical. She offers Wednesday information that is actually useful, and not covered with five layers of sticky sweetness that leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Wednesday could say she almost enjoys it. Receiving information in a simple and unadulterated format is truly the superior method, particularly when conversing with other people.

And thus, within the course of maybe an hour or so – Wednesday has a plan. It is a plan that requires a little more effort than she had expected, but her mother is extremely competent at offering a compelling argument. Wednesday is not someone to sway easy, but truly her mother crafted quite the idea.

It is, dare she say, rather genius.

Though, it does require a small amount of time. Perhaps a few weeks if she and her family were any normal humans. Fortunately they are not – they are Addams’, and so Morticia claims this plan may be enacted within the week.

Considering Wednesday’s (lack of) patience when it comes to matters of her desires, this proves to be quite the challenge… but not impossible by any stretch. As much as Wednesday is eager to act on her whims, she hates losing more – and to reveal to Enid her plan would definitely be losing.

So she stays quiet.

Their lives continue as normal for the six days that follow, half living around one another in Wednesday’s cramped apartment with Enid returning to her own place as often as she sees fit (which admittedly, is becoming less and less often). Wednesday continues to write her book, and Enid comes and goes from her job as required. It just works, despite the increasingly evident lack of space. Wednesday can only be relieved this delicate balance will soon come to an end.

On the sixth day itself, Wednesday receives a small parcel in her mail. She knows that this parcel means the plan is ready, and all is in-place for when Enid arrives after work. There is a grumble of something unpleasant sitting in Wednesday’s chest as she stares down at the box in her hands, but this plan ultimately belongs to her mother – and though she hates to admit it, she would trust her mother with almost anything.

It’s going to be fine.

Wednesday takes the parcel up to her apartment. She undoes the intricate bow wrapped around it, taking off the lid to reveal the chopped off hand of a politician – One of her parents many targets in their recent slew of assassinations against corruption. Though this is not the item necessary to her plan, Wednesday is delighted by the surprise gift. It has been a while since a severed human hand has ended up on her kitchen table. It brings back good memories…

Curled up in the hand’s fingers sits the item that Wednesday requires. She pries it out, careful to avoid snapping anything, before placing the item to the side. She then admires the hand for a moment – considering briefly, if she’d like to taxidermy it – but upon turning it over, she notices a faint tattoo of some pathetic alt-right group’s symbol. She sighs, shoving it back into the box.

Why must all good things become tainted? Ugh.

Wednesday shoves the box next to her trash-can. She’ll take care of it later.

She takes the item relevant to her plan, and carefully places it into her pocket. Despite her confidence in this plan – how she knows it is beyond the realm of failure – part of her feels a kick of concern over Enid’s response. Logic would dictate she will be elated...but Wednesday has reasonable belief that this is a much larger undertaking than any other surprise Enid has received before. So, it is difficult to calculate. Wednesday thinking about how much she hates not knowing may as well become an inside joke at this point. Except it won’t, because Wednesday hates comedy unless it is black and cold.

(Un)Fortunately, Wednesday is given little more time to ruminate on this, as she is alerted to a set of keys jangling in her door, before it swings open to reveal a grinning Enid. She walks over, humming proudly to herself as she approaches Wednesday. Wednesday ensures the item in her pocket is well hidden and then offers Enid a quirk of her eyebrow.

“You are humming that grating Kpop tune again. You must have had a good day.” Wednesday muses, softening slightly as Enid presses a gentle kiss to her lips.

Enid nods, as she drops her bag on the counter. She pauses, coming back to kiss Wednesday again, smiling even more. “My article got chosen to be on the front page of our website!”

By all accounts – a big deal. As a junior journalist, Enid has been vying for her first major publications. A web page article may not be print, but Wednesday can (at the least) recognise this achievement for what it is. It reminds her of when her first short story was published in a local newspaper as a child. It received fifty-two complaints for excessive dark themes. She is still very proud of it.

“The article about the Thorpe family and their latest corruption scandal?” Wednesday asks, tilting her head thoughtfully.

Enid clasps her hands together excitedly.

“Yes!” She squeals. “I can’t believe it got chosen! I didn’t think people would still be interested in the Thorpe family after Xavier’s dad almost lost all their money… but damn, Xavier really didn’t fall far from the corruption tree.”

“Always satisfying to see another one of our past acquaintances fall. It means we’re winning.” Wednesday replies, the slightest dark amused hum tagging onto the end of her sentence. She then takes Enid’s hand, giving it a gentle kiss, relishing in the static feel of Enid’s skin against hers.

“You have done well to publicise their misery.”

Enid beams. She runs into the living room, rooting around for her laptop and charger. She rambles aloud that they should’ve posted the article during her commute home, which means it’ll be online and ready to read now, which means they can read it together, which – deep breath – means they can enjoy Enid’s first posted article for the first time right now.

Wednesday stands stiffly. She has other ideas. Her hand brushes to the item in her pocket. A cold chill runs down her spine.

It feels far too soon, suddenly. She needs more time.

“Enid.” Wednesday says suddenly, her voice appearing before she can think, stalling. “Perhaps you could bring me my notebook?”

A ridiculous task. Pathetic. It will take no time at all. Enid yells back confirmation regardless, and remains in the living room for a bit longer. Wednesday brings the item out of her pocket now, staring at it. Despite its small size, it feels heavy.

What she holds is her future – Their future. It is strange; bizarre even, to consider where she has come from where she was. She did not even want Enid in her apartment not too long ago...and now she cannot stand to watch her leave. Wednesday wants this, that much is desperately true… but taking that step. Is she ready to leave this dark, dingy apartment behind? It represents a lot more than just a space to live in.

Enid appears in the doorway. She waves a small notebook in her hand.

“This one?” She asks. “I figured it would be by your desk, but I could only find this one on your bookshelf.”

Wednesday’s head snaps to Enid. She looks at the notebook, paying little to no attention to which one it is.

“Yes. That is the one.”

Enid’s head snaps to Wednesday’s hands. Wednesday realises instantly she cannot pull them away or hide the item without giving herself away.

“Whatcha got there?” Enid asks.

Shit. Wednesday’s heart freezes in her chest.

Enid walks over. She glances at Wednesday’s hands that have curled over whatever she is holding. Enid gently takes Wednesday’s hands and pulls at her fingers, uncovering what is beneath them. She stares for a second.

“What...what are those?”

Wednesday takes a stiff breath. There’s no hiding it now.

“They’re keys, Enid.”

Enid frowns, confused.

Wednesday continues.

“To our new apartment.”

#Wenclair #Wednesday x Enid #Enid x Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #Wednesday Netflix #fanfic #Ao3

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 2 years ago

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Old Wounds - Wenclair fanfic, chapter 33

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Mature (Fic is fully SFW up to Chapter 20)

Click Here For Previous Chapter

Click Here To Read This Chapter On AO3 or keep reading below!

x-x-x-x-x-x

Another few weeks comes and goes.

More and more of Enid’s belongings encroach on Wednesday’s apartment. Like a festering infestation of colour creeping along her floor, hanging itself over her chairs, and collecting in the corners of rooms – Enid’s presence in her space has become increasingly permanent. Like a flower field erupting from a graveyard.

Wednesday does not complain. Such invasion of her life; her home, would usually draw exasperation and a desire to paint the walls with one very specific colour: red.

However, despite Enid’s offensively bright existence, Wednesday cannot find herself any reasonable level of upset at what is occurring before her. She cannot find any upset, in fact.

Of course, Enid still has her apartment. She returns to it occasionally, the still broken door creaking on its hinges despite being crudely patched up. Wednesday insists on paying for a replacement but Enid insists in return on leaving it like that for ‘just a bit longer’.

Wednesday does not question the decision. As bizarre of a thing it may seem, Wednesday can understand the desire to leave a reminder of those that wronged you, to keep that hatred bubbling under the surface. It is motivation to outgrow them and make them nothing more than just a pitiful comma in the narrative of your life.

The nights without Enid have begun to feel strange now. Wednesday does not like people in her space – she likes her private phone calls with her mother, and the quiet of typing her novel alone. Even more so, she despises her things being displaced; out of alignment with where she wishes them to be.

Enid, despite what one might think, manages to slip in the shadowy cracks of Wednesday’s existence and make herself home quite easily. Her stuff is here, yes, but it finds a place away from Wednesday’s own, letting itself settle in a way that makes it seem like it belongs… and during moments that Wednesday would expect to find distraction (as Enid was often extremely obnoxious during their school years), she finds herself in a surprisingly comforting session of parallel play, wherein Enid commits to her own tasks such as reading, gaming, and working, without so causing Wednesday even the slightest of annoyances.

As Enid spends more and more time within her apartment, Wednesday keeps expecting the apprehension to set in… and yet every day she awakes with comfort that feels akin to the way nature settles around an old house. Vines creeping through the windows, the wood crumbling to dust, and yet it is beautiful despite being changed, for this is the way it was perhaps meant to be – with the nature of things ultimately winning.

This difference Enid has compared to others is further emphasised on the days they venture out, back to the coffee shop where Tom and the other baristas await, smiles playing their lips.

At first they leered slightly, staring at Enid and her scars. It worried her; it made Wednesday furious. These staff members try their luck at getting closer, trying to pry into their private affairs, putting on a friendly front that would have any blank minded simpleton throwing tips by the hundreds… But Wednesday, naturally, does not humour such pathetic endeavours.

They still attend the coffee shop (it is Enid’s favourite, after all), but one day all the staff seem much better behaved, and the general manager lingers in the corner with an arm wrapped in plaster.

Wednesday claims she saw him fall. Enid does little to question it.

It is now a Tuesday. A perfectly normal and average day by any means. It is one of the days when Enid returns to her apartment, and Wednesday is left to her solitude. It is useful, in a sense, as Wednesday very much needs to continue working on her book after all these recent distractions. She is approximately 8,549 words behind schedule. It is unacceptable.

This solitude used to suit her quite perfectly, but she sits now, typing loudly into the quiet of her apartment and something feels… off.

Wednesday’s delicate fingers flow between the keys of her typewriter. Words pour onto the page with a beauty symphony of clicks and clacks – but there are moments of pause, when Wednesday’s brain needs a moment to conjure her next sentence, and she cannot help but feel the silence prick into her spine like needles.

Wednesday likes the silence; likes the comfort of knowing this space is her own… so why is it now so wrong? Wednesday sighs. She stops typing, pushing herself away from the desk. Glancing around her living room, she feels an anxious grumble in her chest at the sight of Enid’s things. It is not a mess… at least, not a mess in the way other people’s things would be in her space, but it is also not how she would have it. But she lacks desire to change it too. It is peculiar.

Wednesday goes over to one of Enid’s hoodies that bears the logo of some vomit inducing boy-band she enjoys. Grimacing slightly, Wednesday picks it up off the side table it lays on, folding it neatly before placing it back down. It does little to change the anxious grumble.

But it is not regret; nor hesitance… so what must it be?

Wednesday stares at the hoodie, pondering it all. It is confusing. She does not know why Enid’s more-permanent presence does not irk her. She loves Enid, of course, but her personal space has always been her personal space.

Wednesday hates not knowing.

And so, Wednesday stands there. Staring.

It is perhaps a few minutes later when she stops, interrupted by a rapid knocking on the door.

Wednesday snaps out of her trance. She straightens her spine, snapping her head towards the noise, before her legs carry her into the kitchen. She looks at her apartment door for a moment. The knocking continues. She sighs slightly, before trudging over.

It is a god damn Tuesday night. Who is idiotic enough to darken her doorstep at this hour best be prepared for face a level of wrath that will have them-

Oh.

It’s Enid.

She smiles at Wednesday meekly, waving her out-of-battery phone, mumbling an apology.

“Sorry I didn’t text first.” She says.

Wednesday steps aside wordlessly, and Enid trails in. She presses a gentle kiss to Wednesday’s lips in greeting, a happy little hum coming from her as she walks into Wednesday’s kitchen, and heads straight to the fridge. She begins rummaging through it, picking out ingredients.

Wednesday watches, confused but unquestioning.

“I forgot to buy groceries.” Enid answers anyway, exhaling amusedly. “I spend so much time with you, I guess I forgot my own apartment needs food too.”

Wednesday walks up to her. She observes for a moment as Enid starts preparing a dish – something with spaghetti, eggs, cheese, and pancetta… Carbonara, if Wednesday had any guess. A good choice.

She finds it fascinating watching Enid cook. For someone who has a pretty free-flowing approach to many tasks, Enid is surprisingly meticulous in the kitchen. She sharpens Wednesday’s knives, preps ingredients with a fine level of precision – best of all, being part wolf, Enid does not find Wednesday’s interest in uncommon cuts of meat to be particularly disturbing.

Wednesday would trust few in her kitchen, especially with the high spec and expensive equipment she has curated over time (only the finest, of course) but she finds Enid’s repeated presence in this space to be one that doesn’t leave her gagging. It is curious.

Very curious indeed…

“I must call my mother.” Wednesday announces. “It’s that time of the evening.”

Enid quickly reaches out, giving Wednesday’s hand a quick squeeze, winking as she does. Wednesday’s expression softens, and she nods, turning around and walking back into the living room. Glancing around the room again, she pulls out her phone; her mother’s number pulled up instantly.

Enid looks at her, a fond smile on her lips.

“Okay Wends, I’ll just be in here.”

It rings exactly twice before her mother answers. Perfectly on time, as always.

“Darling,” Morticia greets warmly. “A pleasure to have you call, as always”

Morticia replies in English. She makes an amused hum, her voice rich, velvety; begging to tease Wednesday in that motherly way she does.

Wednesday glances towards the kitchen door, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest.

“Hola mamá,” She greets, the words flowing out of her mouth in fluent Spanish. “La loba está aquí.”

“Not at her apartment, no? I believe you told me she does not stay Tuesdays.”

Wednesday lets out an indignant noise. Perhaps she already regrets calling her Mother (she doesn’t), especially if she going to receiving her infuriating all-knowing tone. She could just hang-up right now (she won’t).

“No, no se queda… Pero está aquí, haciendo la cena. Ella no tiene comida en su propia casa.”

A quiet laugh comes through the speaker.

“And she could not have ordered food via one of those silly little applications, or perhaps visited the store?”

Wednesday is quiet for a second. She feels her brows knit into a frown.

“Podría, sí.”

Wednesday does not have to see her mother’s smile to know it is there.

“Mm, perhaps the groceries themselves are not the most important part of this equation.”

Wednesday has heard quite enough. There is an implication there that makes her black heart twist in it’s cage.

“Voy a colgar,” she claims...but her hand makes zero motion towards the ‘end call’ button. She simply stands there, silent, dead air hanging between them. After a few seconds, a small chuckle comes from her mother.

“Are you going to hang-up, little raven?” Morticia hums down the phone.

Morticia makes a slightly dramatic sigh.

Wednesday remains silent. Her brain twists and turns at her mother’s words, stubbornly refusing to let them go. She paces around the room, looking into the kitchen for a second. Enid notices, and smiles briefly, as she tends to a pan of boiling water; Wednesday feels her stomach flip. She walks away from the door, holding the phone now as if it owes her a secret.

“Explica.” She demands.

“Darling, can you really not understand it? You are so intelligent, and yet-”

“-En lo que a navegar relaciones respecta, ¿soy como una asesina en serie novata? Normalmente no dándome cuenta de lo verdaderamente importante.”

A low, humouring chuckle comes from her mother. She is amused, and Wednesday finds it irritating – Not for the amusement itself, but for the lack of clarity that comes with it. She understands there is something she is missing; something reaching for recognition in her brain and body… evidently her mother sees this, and yet offers her not the pitiful mercy of giving her a straight fucking answer.

Damn it all to hell… Granted, her Mother would be quite at home there.

“Honestamente, no lo entiendo, y yo-” Wednesday begins to chastise, cut off by Enid walking into the room with two bowls of food.

She holds one up to Wednesday and steps over to the coffee table, placing it down softly. There is a sweet little smile on her face, and she presses a quiet kiss to Wednesday’s forehead before settling onto the couch. Enid then begins eating, not thinking much of it. Wednesday looks at her. Her heart beating profoundly in her chest; her expression softening at the gentleness Enid offers so unabashedly. Wednesday pulls the phone away from her ear slightly. She looks at the ‘end call’ prompt. She pauses for a second.

“Mamá,” She says firmly. “Tengo que irme.”

The call ends with a tap of her screen.

Wednesday discards her phone onto a couch cushion. She grabs the bowl and joins Enid, sitting quietly. She stares down at meal before her.

“I figured you probably hadn’t eaten either, since it’s your writing time, then you call your mom, and then after that you usually eat. So, I made enough for both of us.” Enid explains, slurping back spaghetti with a smile.

Wednesday continues staring at the food. She grabs the fork Enid also brought and twirls some spaghetti onto it. She eats slowly; thoughtfully, her brain ticking away at it all. Wednesday glances around the room, looking at her stuff mingled with Enid’s… even the room smells differently now, slightly floral notes mixed in with the usual scent of aged wood and ink.

She looks at Enid, who looks at back with a sweet smile. God, that smile could kill.

Swallowing her mouthful of food Enid asks, “How is it?”

Wednesday blinks, pulled away from her thoughts. She takes another bite. Truthfully, it is delicious. Perfectly cooked pasta, the sauce is the correct consistency without any lumps or mouth-feel nightmare, and – being carbonara, that is made traditionally with eggs as the base of the sauce as opposed to cream – it is a strong pecorino flavour that holds zero flavour of the egg used. Wednesday is not one to hand out compliments, but she cannot deny that Enid has beautifully crafted this dish. This goes without mentioning the personalisation she has done to Wednesday’s own bowl.

“It is skilfully made,” Wednesday comments, “but I do detect-”

“A shit tonne of pepper?” Enid queries, interrupting with a grin. “You drown your food in the stuff so I saved you the effort.”

Ah. Impressive. Wednesday is taken off guard by how finely Enid has noticed her habits; the small choices and patterns that dictate her life. It is bizarre yet oddly comforting – considering this is a behaviour often delegated to stalkers and psychopaths. Though… truly, what is being in a relationship if not choosing your own personal brand of consenting stalker?

Enid likely wouldn’t have noticed these things had she not been staying so often; had she not grown to see this space as she sees her own. Wednesday still cannot discern why she does not mind.

Regardless, Enid’s effort is appreciated. The pasta is very edible. Especially with the added pepper.

Wednesday’s head continues to mull and muse as the evening continues. They both finish their meals, and Enid takes their bowls through to the kitchen – collecting Wednesday’s with another kiss to her forehead, naturally. She washes the dishes as Wednesday tidies the ingredients away that were left out. The way the work together is simple, peaceful, with only a few playful jabs at each other for their own nitpick habits – Enid using too much dish soap; Wednesday’s meticulous way of organising her food. It is good natured, and vicious, and quietly loving, neither having to say much to say anything.

And then they settle, Wednesday opting to forgo her writing so she and Enid may spend some time discussing the week that has passed. Wednesday is still not good with feelings; still stumbles her way through these conversations awkwardly, both stubborn and cautious to say too much or too little… but Enid guides her, prompting conversations, taking a gentle lead in their exploration of the emotional depths.

Enid says she’s going to start therapy. Wednesday knows her initial reaction (that is, abject disgust) is not appropriate, not for Enid anyway. Therapy has not, and will not work on her… but for Enid it might. If Enid wishes to pursue such things, Wednesday will not speak her objections aloud. She loves Enid and will support the choice – though, it does not go without saying that she will find out everything piece of public (and non-public) information about whichever therapist Enid chooses, on the off-chance they are anything like that useless, drivel spouting failure that was Dr Kinbott. If they fail to help; they will fail to exist.

Wednesday does not mention this to Enid… but has a feeling Enid already knows.

After this, Wednesday and Enid kiss for a bit. Perhaps a bit longer than a bit. Maybe they even end up with clothing pulled aside, and desperate sighs as they yearn for each other’s touch. Though, it goes little further than that – owing to Enid’s bedtime alarm ringing out across the room from her (now charged) phone. There’s a few huffs; a few more quick, pleading kisses, before Enid reluctantly pulls away and insists she needs to return home.

Home, she says, with a hesitance.

Wednesday elects to ignore it.

Wednesday then walks Enid to the door of her apartment and they confirm they will text one another in the morning. Enid kisses Wednesday one last time, before leaving. Wednesday does not like watching her leave. Her chest twinges painfully at the sight.

So, she distracts herself with more writing. It does not help all that much, but she writes for hours and hours regardless. Her brain does its best to push away every slithering thought that comes close… Unfortunately, it does not ever quite calm the curiosity that has followed her this evening through.

And so as the night draws in and Wednesday feels her eyelids droop, the siren call of sleep pulling her ever closer to collapsing on her desk yet again, Wednesday does – in fact - find it in herself to push away from the desk and quietly shuffle to bed. She still needs to write...but writing can wait until the morning.

She pulls her clothing off, folding each item neatly despite her exhaustion. Then, she clambers into her sheets, hissing slightly at the chill that meets her skin. It's nice - like a cold drawer in a morgue. She rolls to her side instead of her usual crossed arm corpse position, not noticing the way her arms reach out into the darkness... but she catches herself after a second, staring into the empty space beside her. That's where Enid sleeps. But she isn't there.

Wednesday feels herself tense, a realisation hitting her like a punch to the stomach. The very air itself seems to freeze in her throat. All she wants is Enid there; body warm, and smile soft. She wants Enid there tonight, and tomorrow, and every night after...

She wants Enid to live with her.

And that terrifies her to know.

#Wenclair #Wednesday x Enid #Enid x Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #Wednesday Netflix #fanfic #Ao3 #they're in love your honour

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