#ch. johnny silverhand

[nwheregirl]

Hey y’all! Today’s my husband’s birthday! 🖤🖤

[kingsroad]

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃. ( mods: one, two, three. )

[seraphfighter]

Hey! 3 for the OTP prompts! ❤️❤️❤️

3. Write about your ship holding hands in a tense moment.

Listen, I do not know how this turned into a 1.6k-word piece, but it did. For some context, this is set in my modern au, because in the canon au Val would simply not put up with this, the badass merc that she is. (and you can blame @glitchinginthegarden for the idea)

To anyone reading, be advised: This fic has references to past abuse and features a man being creepy and scummy in general.

The night air feels refreshing after being in the stuffy bar all night. 

V retreats to the entrance of the alleyway next to the bar's main doors. Leaning back against the brick wall, she pulls out her pack of cigarettes and places one between her lips to light it. She takes a deep drag and exhales, the smoke billowing out in front of her. God, she’s worn out. Nights with Judy are fun but she can only handle being crowded against a bunch of drunk people for so long. It’s not her scene. 

Checking the time, V pulls her phone out of her pocket. 10:03 PM. Johnny should be here soon. He’d agreed to pick her up coming back from a late night at the studio. Shockingly, he didn’t whine about her lack of a car this time. Probably because she’s sleeping over at his place. She’d been planning on it anyway and she wasn’t going to hop on her bike after a couple of drinks, even though she doesn’t feel the effects of the alcohol. 

She occupies her time by scrolling through her feed on her phone while she smokes. Hearing footsteps to her right, she doesn’t think anything of it until a deep voice asks, “Got a spare cig?” 

V glances up at the man coming to a stop by her side. Already, she’s annoyed. She has no interest in talking to a random stranger. Hoping he’ll take the cigarette and leave her alone, she pulls out her pack and passes him one. “Thanks,” the man says, mustering what appears to be his best attempt at a charming grin as he uses his own lighter to light it. 

She doesn’t respond and returns her attention to her phone. But as her luck has it, the man doesn’t leave and keeps speaking, “What are you doing out here all by yourself?” 

Fuck, she knows where he’s going with this. “Not interested,” she responds flatly, not bothering to look up from her phone. 

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I’m just saying a pretty woman shouldn’t be out here by yourself like this.” Out of her peripherals, she sees him move a step closer. She moves a step back. 

Unease begins to curl in her gut. She shuts her phone’s screen off but keeps it in her hand with a tight grip as she turns her attention to the man. “I said, I’m not interested.” 

The man blatantly drags his eyes over her body and she fights back a shudder. A picture of false innocence, he tilts his head. “I’m just trying to be friendly here. Night City’s dangerous you know, it’s not safe for a woman as beautiful as you to be here alone. Something bad could happen.” 

God, you can’t be a woman and go anywhere without being harassed anymore. V throws her cigarette down on the ground and uses her boot to smother it with more force than necessary. “I can handle myself, thanks.” She’ll just wait inside the bar for Johnny. Hoping that this will be the end of the conversation, V moves to step past him, but the man is faster, blocking her path. He approaches her and it’s not until she backs up that realizes he’s got her cornered against the wall. 

Her heart leaps into her throat. Fuck, fuck. She glances to the side to see if there’s anyone within sight, but they’re alone. 

“Let me at least walk you inside, then. I’ll buy you a drink.” When he speaks, she can smell the bourbon on his breath. Markus. Backed into the corner of their room. Her palms are clammy.

She feels like she’s going to be sick. 

“What? So you can spike it? Fuck off.” She tries to move past him but again, he blocks her. 

The man’s not that much taller than her but she feels small beneath his stare. “Where are you going? We’re just having a friendly conversation.” He flicks the last of his cigarette to the side and braces his hand against the wall above her. 

She could knee him in the balls and make a run for it. V’s fast and the man is clearly drunk. It’d be easy to outrun him, right? Why doesn’t she have her pocket knife on her? She should know better than to not carry it. 

“Choom, back the fuck off right now.” She’s proud of how steady her voice sounds. 

“Or what?” 

The screech of tires against the asphalt of the parking lot echoes down the alleyway. Before she can process it, the man is being hauled back and away from her. The man stumbles away and then Johnny’s in front of her, his back to her. With a hard shove, he has the offending man crashing into the opposite wall. Johnny spares a glance at her, his face contorted in an anger she’s not used to seeing on him, before he advances on the man. 

“The fuck did you think you were doin’, huh? She told you to back the fuck off!” His voice is a loud angry growl, akin to some of his vocals in his songs. 

The man holds his hands up. He looks terrified, the confidence he was exuding with her long gone. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it man!”

“Cut the bullshit!” Johnny barks. “Didn’t mean anythin’ by it? So you think it’s okay to harass my girl when she tells you to back the fuck off?!” 

V hates how hearing Johnny refer to her as his girl makes her feel all fuzzy inside, even in this situation. 

“I didn’t know! She didn’t say she had a boyfriend!” 

Pathetic. This man is pathetic. V steps forward but still keeps herself behind Johnny. “ It doesn’t matter, I told you I wasn’t interested. It’s the same fucking principal,” she snaps. 

Johnny’s fists clench down at his sides. “Well? You aren’t fuckin’ deaf! You still think it’s okay?  I should teach you a lesson right now, you piece of shit. Maybe then you’ll get it through your thick skull to leave women alone.” 

“I’m sorry!” The man almost looks close to tears. 

In the parking lot and near the entrance to the alleyway, people are starting to gather. Their yelling is drawing a crowd. V sees more than a few phones with the cameras facing them. They need to get out of her before Johnny’s recognized. 

V grasps his hand, forcing his fist to unclench so she can weave her fingers through his. She doesn’t know if it’s his hand trembling or hers. Johnny looks over at her and beneath the anger, she can see concern for her. 

“Johnny, he’s not worth it.” Subtly, she flicks her eyes over to the crowd gathering and he turns his head to glance. She keeps her voice pitched low, “We need to get out of here.” 

Oblivious, the man keeps babbling. “I won’t do it again, I promise!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Johnny snarls at him. 

“Johnny.” She tugs on his hand, more insistent this time. “Let’s go.” 

He wants to fight her on it, she can tell, but ultimately he steps back. He turns to leave but not before growling to the man, “Get out of here. I better not see your fuckin’ face again or I’ll bash your skull in.” 

Hearing a few murmurs of Johnny’s name, V keeps her head low and turned away as they retreat from the alley, still not used to the public attention. Johnny, as usual, is unbothered. He keeps his head held straight and high as they make the short walk to the Porsche. As soon as they're sat inside, he peels out of the parking lot, gripping her hand tightly where it rests on the center console. 

The farther they get from the bar, the more adrenaline V feels fade out of her body. The glass of the window is cool against her forehead as she rests against it. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing until her heart rate slows and there’s no longer bile climbing up her throat. 

She doesn’t notice Johnny pulling over until they're stopped along the side of an unbusy street. Lifting her head from the window, she turns to ask Johnny what he’s doing, but he doesn’t give her a chance before his free hand cradles the side of her face and his lips are on hers. V exhales through her nose and melts into it, languidly kissing him until he pulls away. His eyes dart over her face. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks quietly and tucks her hair behind her ear. 

“Yeah.” When her voice comes out shaky, she clears her throat and tries again, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up is all.” She tightens her grip on his hand as she pauses for a moment, gnawing on the inside of her lip. She debates on continuing. “Memories and all that, y’know.” 

Understanding fills Johnny’s features. “Shoulda let me beat the fucker up,” he mutters darkly. “Teach him a lesson.” 

“The last thing we need right now is you getting a criminal offense. You know that.” She smiles wryly. “The media would have a hay day with it, though.” 

He scoffs, “The media’s published worst things about me. Still doesn’t make it right, what he did. What either of them did.” 

She blinks past the threat of tears. Dropping her head to his shoulder, she breathes in the familiar smell of tobacco and cyprus. “I know.” Johnny pets the back of her head, toying with her hair and if he notices a few tears soak into the fabric of his jacket, he doesn’t say anything. “Can we just go home, get some greasy takeout, drink too much, and watch a shitty movie?” 

Home. She doesn’t even care she called his place that. In her heart, it is home. 

He presses a kiss to her temple. “Course we can, Val.”

[ghostoffuturespast]

Last Login/Full Disclosure

[travelbystarlight]

[lcsthings]

johnny silverhand.

i probably won’t be as active on him until i’ve finished my second playthrough.

[zmassani]

CURRENTLY IN USE: 1x1 — renleys OPPOSITE: Satine Demarr OTP: A Thief and a Ghost

BASICS

FULL NAME: Robert John Linder III NICKNAME(S): Johnny Silverhand DATE OF BIRTH: November 16 (1988) ORIENTATION: Demiromantic bisexual NATIONALITY: American OCCUPATION: Musician (formerly) UNIVERSE: Cyberpunk 2077

APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Keanu Reeves HEIGHT: 180 cm BUILD: Medium frame, healthy-ish muscle tone DOMINANT HAND: Left HAIR COLOUR: Black HAIR STYLE: Very slightly wavy, about shoulder-length FACIAL HAIR: Stubble, sometimes grows it into a beard EYE COLOUR: Brown SCARS: Burn scars on his right wrist and forearm from cooking. Scarred skin all along the spot where his shoulder joins the metal prosthetic on his left side. Other significant scars all across his left side from the incident that tore his arm off during the war. TATTOOS: Several. Most on his right arm. PIERCINGS: N/A USUAL EXPRESSION: Broody, cocky CLOTHING STYLE: Leather pants, sleeveless shirts, bomber jackets... Obnoxiously stuck in his ways, and doesn’t have any intentions of stopping. Wears his aviators both indoors and outdoors, no matter the weather.

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH: College Station, Texas CURRENTLY LIVING IN: Night City FINANCIAL STATUS GROWING UP: Lower middle class

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS: Jill Linder, father unknown to everyone but her SIBLINGS: N/A CHILDREN: N/A SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): N/A RIVALS/ENEMIES: N/A OTHERS: Robert “Bob” Linder II (grandfather), Ella Linder née Corbin (grandmother)

PSYCHOLOGICAL

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral JUNG TYPE: ENTJ TEMPERAMENT: Choleric POSITIVE TRAITS: Charismatic, charming, witty, confident, outspoken NEGATIVE TRAITS: Selfish, impulsive, irrational, manipulating, cruel

MISCELLANEOUS

NATIVE LANGUAGE: English OTHER LANGUAGE(S): Some Spanish SMOKING: Yes DRINKING: Yes DRUGS: Yes “CREATED”: May 2021

LINKS

CHARACTER TAG INSPIRATION PHOTOS PINTEREST BOARD

Johnny Silverhand was born as Robert John Linder on November 16, 1988.  He was the result of a one night stand, and consequently got raised by a single mother. Jill Linder worked as a nurse, always stuck between the long hours of graveyard shifts and raising a boy that would’ve required more attention than she ever could’ve given him, and whatever strength she managed to muster wasn’t quite enough for a child like Johnny. She tried her best, but over the years Johnny grew closer to his grandparents than his unwillingly-absent mother. His mother was a kind-hearted woman, but unfortunately it wasn’t the side of her that Johnny got to see. Johnny got Jill who was tired and worn thin; always worried about the next paycheck and if or when she’d be able to buy her son a new pair of shoes. 

To Jill’s relief, Johnny’s grandparents took him under their wing without much coaxing. Bob and Ella Linder had lived in Texas for all their lives, in a neighborhood full of people who’d bought their houses right after the wars, in the beginning of the 1950s. Bob had owned a convenience store up until he’d been forced to retire (after his store was bought by a bigger company planning to expand) and Ella had completed her career by working as a secretary for a local advertising agency. Bob taught Johnny how to ride a bicycle and play the guitar, trying his best to raise the boy into a man his mother could be proud of. Ella wasn’t as direct with her love for the boy, but cared for him all the same. The staunch gender roles they’d been raised with were still somewhat present, and it was mostly Ella who took care of the house, with Johnny trying his hand at helping her every now and then.

With only his grandparents present for the majority of his life, Johnny grew to resent his mother, much like every teenager in one way or another. After Bob died, Johnny chose to leave home the moment he was able. Ella wanted him to stay, and very openly told him so as well, but the boy couldn’t be persuaded. At the age of fifteen Johnny lied about his age and enlisted in the army, and about three months after completing his basic training, he got shipped off to join the Central American Conflict; lovingly also referred to as “New Vietnam”. While enlisting was a way to get away from home and make money while escaping it, Johnny hadn’t expected to see conflict so soon. Regardless, he made friends with equally naive boys, and made the most out of a shitty situation. There was no leaving an ongoing war without shaming himself in the process, and for a stubborn boy; barely a man; being in danger seemed like an easier burden to bear. 

The war was run by corrupt limbs of the government, meaning both the cause and the means were equally dirty. Johnny, like many other new recruits, was placed on the frontlines. The loss of life was a way of advertising the horrors of the war and to keep the propaganda machine churning, and what better way to keep the people at home outraged than to bring in news of boys slaughtered in the fields. Images of the carnage traveled far and wide, leaving no doubt of the apparent justice the USA was wielding with its war.

The propaganda machine brainwashed Johnny just like it did to many other young men, which lead to him fighting in the war for the majority of it (from 2003 to 2007), only coming back home to Texas for the required leaves before hopping on another bus to get back to where his real family now resided. He didn’t make it home for his grandmother’s funeral. 

War took many things from him, but the true turning point was the incident that cost him his arm and his best friend, who died protecting him. The aftermath of the massacre was equally bloody, and when the rose tinted glasses finally shattered, they were gone for good. Johnny saw past the home and family he’d built in the frontlines, and saw the bodies of boys – children – lying rib to rib, waiting to be shipped back home to fuel the machine that kept the war going. He saw how little the lives of people meant in comparison to corporations wielding a war to control a drug trade that wasn’t as uncontrolled as it was made out to be, and right then and there became an unwilling participant of the war. 

After the loss of his arm Johnny got shipped off to a military base near Panama City, where the amputated arm was replaced by a government-issued metal arm. With prosthetic smart technology still in its infancy, the little joy he got from having two arms again was almost fully dulled by the fact that his arm still ached like it was there, and the nerve grafts didn’t hold, resulting in his hand spasming involuntarily. A little before making the decision to desert, angry and frustrated by everything, Johnny smashed the acoustic guitar he had had since he was eleven. It wouldn’t be until his days as a rockstar with money that he’d get the arm replaced with a new one, and get reconstructive surgery on his nerves while at it.

In an effort to fight back against the regime, Johnny, like many others, chose to desert. He changed his name from Rob Linder to just Johnny to escape prosecution, and after making it all the way to the Night City, he hid in an abandoned hotel in Pacifica. After squatting in the hotel long enough to nurse his wounds and get tired of feeling sorry for himself, Johnny put his pent up energy into making a plan. He’d laid low long enough, and become familiar enough with Night City to know the military wouldn’t magically find him there; not when the Rob Linder they were looking for was long gone. 

In an effort to make even some money to support himself (and his well-developed nicotine addiction), Johnny got himself a job at a greasy fast food place in Santo Domingo. And that’s where he met Kerry. Johnny and Kerry, both rebellious young men working as chain-smoking line cooks, immediately clicked. While not as radical, Kerry shared Johnny’s thoughts on the war and the government. They fueled each other, finding kinship in being outsiders, and soon enough found themselves rekindling their mutual appreciation for music while at it. While Johnny found it hard to voice his aggressive thoughts into a form that would work as song lyrics, Kerry had a knack for turning his anger into something more poetic; something that resonated with more than just the two of them. Just about a year after Johnny deserted the army, with cheap instruments from a seedy pawn shop down in Watson, Johnny and Kerry formed Samurai. Additional members Denny, Nancy and Henry joined soon after, completing the lineup that would become the most recognizable in the years to come. With Johnny’s alter ego being just a first name ever since he’d left his old name behind, after Samurai started to make waves, “Just Johnny” was no longer cutting it. The moniker “Silverhand” came from none other than Kerry, who found the name equally punk and insanely pretentious. Johnny agreed, and has been Johnny Silverhand since. 

The path of Samurai was never linear, and the relationships inside the band made the group disband more than once. Each of the members had their personal problems that spilled over, and Johnny was no different. Even after years of music, debauchery and douchebaggery, his anger hadn’t lessened. If anything, the feeling of injustice heightened day by day, his need of some kind of cosmic justice relentlessly bubbling inside him. They sang of corpo corruption, their middle fingers up in the air, but no matter how loud they were, nothing seemed to change. They toured corpo buildings and smashed up corpo hotels, but for what? For nothing to change. The anger in him was boiling, and it was Alt Cunningham that became a vessel for that anger. He cared for her, of course he did, but it wasn’t until she was kidnapped (and subsequently killed) by Arasaka that Johnny got his righteous sign for retaliation. He contacted Kerry and the rest of the band to make one last show, a big reunion concert right at the feet of Saburo Arasaka’s beloved tower, and raided the tower to retrieve Alt, only to find her connected to the Mikoshi, presumed dead. By the skin of their teeth, the group managed to escape, leaving destruction at their wake.

After what happened with Alt, his image plastered all over Night City, Johnny joined the Aldecaldos. He laid low for a year or so, before reaching out to Rogue for one final mission into the depths of Arasaka Tower. A Militech incursion team helped him get equipped with a mini nuke, with the plan of ending the Fourth Corporate War for good by destroying Arasaka’s Reliquary Database Project. For better or worse, the rest of it would go down in history, and make Johnny Silverhand a name people would recognize decades after his death on the 20th of August 2023. 

Johnny Silverhand. A terrorist rockerboy; a legend of a bygone era. Up until his engram would be discovered by a disgraced corpo while on a doomed heist to steal from none other than Yorinobu Arasaka.

[masterskywalkers]

They are the ‘sharing the one braincell. Literally’ duo, and they are inseperable.

[kharonion]

🦾+ 💢 for Vikt!

Thank you, Heather! <3 » CP77 TEXT CONVO ASKS «

Johnny + 💢 (something went wrong) — I'm going to approach this like Johnny is physically separate... 😈 — So? How did it go? Everything you hoped for, J? — Shut up. We're NOT going to talk about it. — What, your charm didn't get her? Or your "impressive cock"? — SHUT. UP. — Got a gig, but let's snag a drink after. My treat, J. — ... Thanks, V.

[commander-rahrah]

Cyberpunk: Twin Flames - Ch 5

A SilverV fic

Linked psyches. That was Alt's solution for them. Two bodies -- their own bodies. But souls and minds still intertwined -- feeling each other's pain and emotions. Never too far away, never far behind.

There could never be one without the other.

______________________________________________________

I just posted my fifth chapter of my Johnny Silverhand/Fem!V fic over on my AO3. If you are interested in reading, I have put a snippet below. You can also read the rest of my fic over on AO3!

______________________________________________________

“You nervous?”

V flashed Johnny a look. He knew exactly how she felt — not like she was trying to hide it anyways. Her fingers were twitching on the steering wheel as she followed behind Teddy’s dirty van the next morning. The suspension on her truck groaning with the desert hills. She squinted from the sun beating down through her windshield, keeping her eyes on the dirt road. “Just trying to figure out what I’m going to say to Panam.

“She’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out pretty fast once she sees me.”

Her mouth twitched. “I guess.”

“At least she already knew about me, right?” The Rockerboy shrugged.

“Yeah…” V was grateful when the cat was out of the bag with Panam. It was pretty hard to hide it after she’d almost got zeroed by the relic in front of her. But it was a weight off her shoulder regardless, having to not hide it — to be able to speak about Johnny to someone who didn’t know him from before like Rogue and Kerry. “You never told me how Misty and Vik reacted to you.”

His dark brows furrowed as he thought back, “I mean — they just accepted it.”

“Really?”

“You were flatlining in my arms V,” He said gruffly, his mood souring as he recalled that night just a month ago.

She grimaced, “Right.”

“I mean — Vik definitely fuckin’ hates me." He sucked his teeth, "Not sure if it’s ‘cause he has such a hard on for you or because he’s old enough to actually remember what a bastard I was—“

She cut him off, taking her eyes off of the road to flash him a look, “Vik doesn’t have a hard on for me.”

He arched his brow, scoffing at her. “The innocent act is getting old V,”

“It’s not a fuckin’ act," Her nostrils flared, "You thinking every single person who I talk to wants to get in my pants — that’s getting old.”

He scoffed again, staring out the the window and avoiding V’s eyes, “Sure,”

“Vik is family — he’s saved my ass more then anyone else I know.”

He rolled his dark eyes as he looked back over at her, “And why do you think he does that V? Out of the goodness of his heart?”

“At first, yeah. But now—“

Johnny finally looked back at her, shaking his head. “Nobody’s that good, princess. Everyone’s got a reason for doing something.”

Her back molars clicked together, her mouth forming a hard line. “Way to see the silver lining in everything, Silverhand.”

She felt a flash of heat, anger course through her — his anger. “Just drop it, V.”

“Can’t just order me to stop talkin’ about it—“

“I don’t want to anymore.”

“Well I do!" V raised her voice, tired of him controlling the conversation. "What’s your deal with him? Vik’s my family Johnny, I owe him a fuckin’ lot. And now the most important person in my life, is fuckin’ huffing and puffing because apparently the only possible way anyone could want anything to do with me is to get into my goddamn pants.”

“Fine." He spat, "You wanna know why am I’m mad?”

“Yes.”

He twisted in the passenger seat, moving his body so it was completely facing her. Both his metal and 'ganic hand flinging in the air as he spoke animatedly. “I’m fucking mad because how well he knows you. I hate him and Misty and Panam, all of your stupid fucking friends. Because they know you.”

Her blue eyes were darting between him and the dirt road ahead, “What are you talking about, Johnny? No one knows me better than you.”

“Yeah because of the fuckin’ chip, V.” His voice turned quiet, soft. Uncertainty waving off of him.

Her eyebrows met in the middle, a hard line forming between them. “That’s not true.”

“The chip’s what gave me access to your head.”

“Johnny… I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone." She blindly reached across, grabbing onto his leg for a moment. "Not even Jack. Tell that green monkey on your back to fuck off, kay?”

He stayed silent, processing, before nodding at her.

Her face turned serious, a flicker of anger shimmering in her eyes before it disappeared again. “And even if someone does want to get in my fucking pants, doesn’t mean I’m gonna let them.”

Johnny’s face softened, “Right.” He looked out through the side window for a moment before turning back to her, “Most important person in your life hey?”

“Oh shut up,” She smirked, before turning her eyes back to the road — searching for Teddy's van again.

“Jackie knew you pretty well. And fast.” He said simply, eyes studying her.

Her bottom lip quivered at the mention of his name, “You spend every waking moment with someone bound to happen. Chip or not.”

They both knew it was a sensitive thing to bring up. Something that they never touched on, hadn't ever really got near. She'd never gotten anytime to really think on it. To grieve Jackie, to miss him. It was a hole that they'd both watched get bigger and bigger in her for some time. So big now, neither of them really knew how to approach it.

“Sorry I’ll never get to meet him.”

Instant tears welled in her eyes, but she kept them glued to the windshield, “Me too.” She croaked, her voice breaking and a couple tears snuck out, rolling down her checks.

“Hey—“ His dark eyes were crinkled with guilt, as he felt a crack of pain in his chest — just an echo of what was happening in her. He reached out and pressed soothing fingers on her wrist. “Picked the wrong topics today. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” She whispered back.

He intertwined his fingers through hers, before pulling them towards him. He placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

V wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him touch so softly.

You can finish the rest of this chapter, or read my whole fic on AO3!

[seraphfighter]

POV: They're judging your club's shitty music taste

[kingsroad]

Well, well... Looks like fortune favors the stupid, too.

[galedekarios]

Goro "Pretty Eyes" Takemura

[anzellla-remade]

judy heard johnny’s voice, became aware of his everlooming presence firsthand(ish) and was STILL willing to eat v out like a buffet...that is the power of lesbianism!!

[solo-net]

“Most nomads don’t come to the Afterlife.”

“Careful. I’m not like “most” nomads.” 

[cthylla-rlyeh]

Stella Valentine x Johnny Silverhand