#cp2077 fic

[spellshite]

Two days ago I started a new play on CP2077 after not touching it since idk release? (Stopped playing bc I loved Jackie too much and I was upset you couldn't avoid his death) And I ended up making yet again a self insert instead of an OC but whatever.

Now I'm thinking that I want to write an indulgent V×Jackie fic bc I still love that choom. Misty is always endgame for Jackie but I can have some V pining on Jackie and some unrequited love as a treat.

But also I started thinking, how about a fic with V that is old as balls like Kerry, Johnny and the likes? I want a character that sees some shit going down in NC and goes like "I'm too old for this"

Time to check the CP2077 timeline on the guide, I guess.

[sacredcyber]

I Think I Like When It Rains

A soft smutty SilverV oneshot, 3k words. A/n: fem V from a corpo background, nsfw.

The long trek towards her northside apartment was unusually silent and painfully dull. Normally Johnny's comments would be firing at a rapid pace. When can they start looking for Alt? Let him take control just for an evening, take a smoke break. Instead she found herself walking through night city alone, in the rain, shooting off random questions hoping it’d rouse him from whatever recess of her mind he’d hidden himself in. Nothing. No answers at all, not even a huff of frustration.

‘It’s fine.’ She thinks to herself. ‘It’ll be like that when he’s gone.’ And that thought brings out a burn in her throat. Something pained and sharp has burrowed itself in her chest and made itself home. V stops short at the corner about a block away, she leans against a light post and sighs.

‘You’re being weird again.’

It’s her voice but it’s not. The sudden realization dawns on her that Johnny could read her thoughts. It makes her feel exposed. She quickly runs the block home in the downpour, the rain soaking through her too big tank top and leather pants.

After fidgeting with the broken card reader, V stumbles inside her small apartment. The pink neon lighting and blue beaded curtains make it feel so homey, so lived in. She remembered the day she bought it, Johnny berated her about her lack of taste. V wanted to tell him about her luxury condo she had to give up when she got sacked, but a sudden wave of shame had washed over her and she simply answered with a small hum in agreement. Arasaka seems like a lifetime ago. Another life, another person, another V. Her Watson home was too painful to stay in after Jackie died, the memories of the both of them shooting the shit, Misty coming by after her shift with tacos and yakitori were all things of the past. The northside apartment had become like a sanctuary, she could be at peace here in this small shoebox of a room.

Just her, Nibbles and her tapeworm.

As she crosses the threshold, a friendly meow greets her. Nibbles jumps off the arcade cabinet and rolls on her back exposing her equally bald tummy. V chuckles and closes the door behind her, as she bends down to bless the feline with a generous scratch behind her ears, she can hear the familiar sound of Johnny’s static reappearing.

He groans and makes his way over towards the armory. V pretends not to notice him, not to be excited he’s left whatever shell he was in earlier. Instead she fishes out a pack of cat food for nibbles and walks over towards a small porcelain bowl.

Johnny immediately moves away and heads over to the bed, she watches him out of the corner of her eye. He’s a bit tense, wound up. As if he could sense her questioning gaze he simply lights up a cigarette. “I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” V asks incredulously. Johnny’s static form stutters a bit as he shifts himself onto her small bed. “Well actually you’re tired. I’m just feeling it too.” He mumbles. V makes a face, this fucking guy. “I thought engrams don’t need to sleep?” She stands and walks over towards him, his legs planted firmly on the linoleum floor. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “You really gonna fight me over this? Fuck V...” The bite he normally has in his voice is mostly gone, Johnny sounds exhausted, miserable. She sighs, the day's events hadn’t been easy on them, the sudden rainstorm plus the non working fast travel pods around the city only added to her frustration. If only her car wasn’t in the shop, she could have just driven home.

Nope, it was just her trudging through the rain. Now she’s home, dripping wet and muscles aching. V sighs, there’s no fight in her, hell she’s not even hungry. All she wants is a hot shower and sleep. “You can sleep with me tonight.” She mumbles. Johnny looks up as V begins to turn away, “ I know you don’t need to but…”

“But what?” He asks, ready to tease her. “Someone’s eager to get me into bed.” He observes her as she slips her boots off.

“You seem…I don’t know…off? Quiet maybe.” She says before disappearing into the bathroom. Johnny scoffs, before he knows it he’s in the bathroom ready to argue.

“As if I-“ he begins before he stops himself. V stands topless in front of the shower, her wet samurai top already on the ground, her hands on her pants zipper. She raises an eyebrow. “What? Never seen tits before?” She turns around and begins to remove her pants, Johnny knows he should fuck off right now, give her some kind of privacy. But something’s compelling him to stay, see what happens, V doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Wasn’t expecting to see yours.” He chuckles. “Didn’t know my little corpo rat was an exhibitionist is all.” V turns the shower on trying not to focus on the “my little corpo rat” comment, he notices the way her breasts jiggle a bit, they’re bigger than he’s used to, Johnnys always had a penchant for petite women, V’s musculature had been a bit of a turn off for him, recently he’s been rethinking that.

She turns to face him and something in Johnny’s chest tightens. She’s bare, with nothing but his tags on. Something about that does it for him, maybe it’s her lack of aggression or just how intimate it feels. “Not gonna take those off too?” He lifts his cybernetic hand and places his fingertip onto the tag, V can feel slight pressure there. She cocks her head a bit, “I’ve never taken them off.” She says following his wandering hand as it travels from the tags to her navel. She can feel him and she doesn’t know how or why, but she doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to ruin it.

V makes a motion with her hand, “You coming in?” Johnny is a bit stunned, he’s not used to V being so nonchalant about contact. Normally she’s very cagey about him being near her. He doesn’t blame her, especially since their meeting was terrible. He’s conflicted, but the need for touch is overwhelming. “You want me to?” He asks, hesitation sprinkles his words. V nods. ‘Yes’ she thinks and so he follows.

V stands under the hot shower, the steam feels so comforting, like a warm blanket hugging her. As she stretches she can feel her back bump into something solid. As she reaches back Johnny catches her hand, his ganic hand gently caresses hers. She hesitates but turns to face him, he’s there naked as the day he was born, only with the addition of that familiar blue static. She studies him, he’s definitely handsome, not that she wanted to admit that but something about his little grin tells her he already knows that. Her eyes wander from his dark brown eyes to his sloped nose down to his happy trail, she lifts her head to face him, not wanting to focus on the obvious.

“You look like you got questions.” He murmurs. V looks for her shampoo. “Can you feel the water?” He nods. “Yeah, feels nice, I guess it feels nice to you.” He moves to stand under the shower head, it merely goes through him but V supposes it adds to the experience.

She grabs the coconut shampoo and begins to work up a lather. Her back is towards him, “Where did you go?” She asked. Johnny notices a slight hitch in her voice, he watches as she scrubs her scalp. He steps in and replaces her hands with his, lightly massaging the product into her hair. “Can’t exactly go anywhere…” he avoids the question. V steps under the shower head, her back pressed against Johnny's chest. He watches as the shampoo runs over her breasts down her toned stomach. His hands move from her scalp to the sides of her waist, before he grabs her and presses her firmly against him, his mouth pressed against her ear.

V presses harder against him, he feels so real, so solid against her skin. The only difference is the lingering fuzziness he gives off, maybe it’s the static. “You…didn’t answer my question.” She manages to mumble out, Johnny simply hums “I’m here now.” His metal hand traces down from her collarbone in between her breasts. V wants to prod him, demand he tell her why he left her alone with her thoughts but his touches are so reverent, so gentle.

“I was angry.”

She turns to face him, Johnny’s brown eyes scan her face, he looks vulnerable, soft, uncomfortable. She grabs his ganic hand and presses her face against it, his thumb strokes her cheek. “Did I do something?” He simply shakes his head, everything pisses Johnny off to some extent. The shitty weather, his PTSD, the way Fuckin’ Takemura and River give her those looks when she’s not paying attention. V used to piss him off too, her selflessness, the way she’d always get involved in shit that didn’t concern her, her kindness. Her ability to just give parts of herself to anyone in need.

Now he’s before her, a starved man seeking it out for himself. He hesitates and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. V slowly allows herself to be soft, to be open for him. Love isn’t something you come across in Night City, it’s something you buy for an hour or two. But this isn’t that, this is something else, something that’s needed by both of them.

His kisses are rough, they’re desperate for dominance, to lay a claim on her. She can feel how needy he is, the way his hands press into her bruised back, how his fingers find those sore spots and rub into them. V lets out small pained cries, as she opens her mouth Johnny simply probes deeper. He wants all her sounds and cries, all of them. The good and the bad.

“V…” he whispers, her bitten lips skimming over his down to his neck, she bites into him like forbidden fruit and such as original sin she knows she’s crossed over into temptation. That pained thing that burrowed into her earlier is now growing between her ribs and it flutters so gently she can barely breathe.

How strange.

Johnny grabs V’s face and pulls it to meet his gaze. He wants to see her, needs to see her face when he’s worshiping her. Her eyes are hazed over, glazed in want and desperate for release. He plants more swollen kisses on her lips. “Let’s go to bed.” He whispers hungrily. V turns off the shower and grabs a towel. “Let’s go to bed?” She begins to towel herself off. Johnny simply grins and reappears sitting on the bed, he can see her though the beaded curtains and even though he’s mapped out her curves and scars with his fingers it’s still exciting to see only bits of her behind the blue plastic beads. Like a private show meant only for him, something no one else can have.

Because how could they? No one knows her like he does, no one ever could.

V emerges from the bathroom, her hips sway a bit as she closes in on Johnny’s personal space. “Sit on the bed.” He whispers in that whiskey’d tone. She does as instructed and immediately he appears on the floor in front of her, kneeling. Johnny’s not used to being subservient, but it feels so natural with V, so easy. Like he doesn’t have to be that “rowdy asshole rockerboy” everyone wanted. He’s simply Johnny, touch starved, pent up, needy Johnny.

He slowly trails his fingers over V’s thighs, it makes her shiver under his touch. “Know how frustrating it is watching you play nice with a pig and a corpo dog?” His tone is dangerous with a veneer of playfulness. V raises herself up on her elbows, she watches as Johnny kneads her inner thighs.

“Has Johnny Silverhand always been the jealous type?”

He chuckles, “Possessive might be the better word.” He spreads her legs out further and places a wet kiss on her clit. Her hips buck into his face a bit. “Fuck…” she gasps out. Johnny chuckles “Not yet, I wanna have some fun first.”

His ganic fingers circle her entrance, she’s already wet and dewy but he’s never been one to half ass eating someone out. He doesn’t want to rush anything. “Thinkin’ real hard down there, silverhand?” V’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Her half lidded stare and the way she runs her fingers through his tangled hair makes him feel alive again.

“I need you to ride my face.” Before V can protest or tease, Johnny’s already teleported under her. He’s taken the liberty to spread her legs as she precariously balances over his face. She holds on to the wall in front of her. “I-I’ve never done thi-“ Johnny licks a swipe over her clit and she shudders.

“Just relax.” He says as plants a tender kiss on her entrance. “Don’t think, just do.” He presses her wet cunt onto his lips as he moves her hips in rhythm. V holds onto the wall in front of her trying to set a pace for herself, worried she might hurt him.

‘You won’t, trust me. Ride my fuckin face like a cowgirl.’

Before she can even ask what the hell that means, his tongue makes its way inside her. “Oh fuck yes…” she moans as her hips move against him, her clit brushing up against his nose and moustache. Johnny holds her down even tighter against his face, sucking and tongue fucking his way through his host. He wants to make her see stars, to become so undone by his mouth alone that even after death, she’s ruined by him.

“Johnny…john- I’m gonna…” her hips swivel in that familiar way, her pussy tightens around his tongue, she’s looking for it, searching for release. He removes his tongue and replaces it with his fingers relentlessly pounding into her. “Come on V just let it go baby…” he holds her hips and presses his lips onto her stomach as she fucks herself above him. “Goddamn…fuck yes yessss…” she sighs as her climax washes over her.

V wobbles a bit as her legs give out on her. Thankfully Johnny teleports and reappears to help steady herself. She’s on the precipice of sleep, yet it doesn’t stop her from trying to crawl into his lap. He laughs a bit “what are you doin’?” V presses up against him, his cock nestled between her puffy lips.

“I wanna sleep on you like this.” She moves her hips and positions his cock at her entrance. Johnny watches as V slides herself on his thick cock, his girth makes it sting so deliciously. Johnny grins and lays back in bed with V content and filled on his chest. He spreads her legs out over him and slowly fucks into her. He throbs with each stroke.

“This how you want me inside you every night?” He asks, his lips hovering over her ear as he caresses her sore lower back with his metal hand. “Get home from running around this city? Fixing everyone’s fuckin’ problems…” He whispers in her ear as he continues to slowly pump himself inside her. Agonizingly slow.

“That’s what you want right? You want someone to take care of you too.” He grips her hips and plunges himself deep into her core. V calls out for him, begging him to go faster but he relents. “Nah, I wanna savor this, wanna make sure it only fits me from now on.” He bites her harshly and with intent. Savoring the wet sounds they share between them.

“How do you think people would feel? Knowin’ Night City’s golden girl is getting dicked down by the dirty old man living in her head?” He punctuates his question with another harsh thrust. V mewls against him and sobs “t-they wouldn’t….get it!” His pace begins to pick up as he holds her down and fucks into her used hole.

“That’s right, they wouldn’t…but we get it, right baby?” His forehead touches hers as he continues to fuck into her.

“Y-yeah…”

“Yeah? Because we belong to each other. From the day I met you, you’ve been mine, all fuckin’ mine…” he grips her throat with his metal hand and keeps a brutal pace. It’s a strange feeling, the agony and ecstasy of relishing in unhinged coitus, of bearing your ugliness out on the same table you fuck your lover on. It’s liberating because he knows what she’s thinking. There’s no guessing games, he doesn’t feel any fear, no hesitation, just complete and utter synchronicity.

Johnny knows he’s needs it and fuck if V also needs this as well. So he fucks her hard into completion, into submission, into a promise. A silent accord, for as long as they have each other. To have and to hold, to fuck and to kill, however the hell people pledge themselves to each other in this day and age. His very soul belongs to her.

The silence between them is comforting, only the sounds of rain drizzling outside and nibbles playing with the beaded curtains next to the minibar. V slides over to lay on his ganic arm, his heartbeat, his warmth, feels real. She shuts her eyes tight and holds onto him for dear life, as if he’d disappear if she let him go.

A whisper floats through her mind, “I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. He can feel her smile and press herself closer to him, less out of fear and more out of need. He lays and watches the ceiling fade from view, letting sleep take him for the first time in over 50 years.

[ruvviks]

I'M MAKING A FOOL OF MYSELF WITH ALL THESE VICES

commission info // support me // vitali uses he/him pronouns

[darlingicarus]

!! PHANTOM LIBERTY SPOILERS !!

this silverv scenario spoils the tower ending from phantom liberty, i'm twisting the ending in my own way, but the general pieces are still there from the ending in the game, do not read on if you don't want to be spoiled <3

when v first gets on the av, they refuse the sedative. johnny's confused, but lets it play out. v refuses any sort of treatment until they can talk with reed, face to face. it's important, they emphasize to the people on the av.

and it worked. as soon as v got assigned the medical room that would be theirs for the duration of the surgery, reed walked in.

and before reed could say anything, v spoke up first, their voice shaky, nervous. "reed, i want them to put johnny in his own body."

johnny materialized next to them, about to object, he's accepted his fate already —

but, v, not ready to talk to him just yet, speaks to reed again, "i know where his body is being held. you'd just need to retrieve it. it won't be easy, but —"

"okay. i'll do it." reed couldn't say no. not when v was looking at him with tear-filled eyes. v never directly told him how much johnny meant to them. he always had a feeling, but in this moment, he knew. they had a deeper connection.

he thought of so mi in that moment. reed still felt afraid that the decision he chose was the wrong one despite everyone around him saying he did the right thing. he let one friend down, but he wouldn't let v down.

"where's his body?"

—————————————

reed left after getting everything he needed. and that’s when johnny moved from his spot. he was leaning against the wall, aviators on, trying to process the conversation he was hearing. and now he sat beside v on the bed without his aviators and was just staring into v’s eyes.

“what’re you doing, v?”

“saving your life, johnny. and don’t tell me you’ve accepted your fate. i haven’t accepted it. i don’t think i could live without you, johnny.”

and johnny didn’t have a good enough response for them. all he could manage was reaching his hand and ghosting it over v’s. he couldn’t feel their hand, but if all works out… soon…

—————————————

johnny recovered first. v was still in their coma. reed already told him the bad news, that v could no longer use their combat cyberware.

"but is v going to be okay?"

"yes."

and that's all that mattered to him. johnny spent most of his time next to v. he would rub circles into their hand, hoping that in whatever dream like state they were in, they'd be able to feel some comfort from johnny's touch.

he messaged everyone on v’s phone that they would consider a friend. telling them that v was in coma and didn’t know when they would wake up. he didn’t respond to any follow up messages, but at least they know what happened to them now.

he talked to kerry on his own, though. he was headed out on tour soon, he even asked johnny to join. johnny said no. he couldn’t be away from v. they saved him and now he needed to be here and make sure they’d wake up with someone being there next to them.

kerry didn’t mind, though. from the way johnny would talk about v, it was clear how much he cared.

“promise me one thing, johnny.”

“what’s that?”

“keep in touch.”

“i will.”

the next day, johnny had a package arrive for him. it was his guitar with a note reading: something to keep you busy.

feeling his guitar with his own hands this time was strange, but a good strange. rather than pacing around the room, he played on his guitar, softer tunes so as not to disturb v.

the song he played most often was who wants to live forever. it’s the song he was thinking about during the ride in the av to langley.

while he was playing today, he swore he saw v’s fingers lift up. his eyes lingered on them for a second. nothing else changed. must’ve been a trick from his eyes, just waiting for something to change. wanting something to change.

—————————————

v could feel someone holding their hand. when their eyes finally opened, they saw johnny. he was sitting in a chair close to the bed, his head down on their bed. johnny’s hand loosely holding theirs.

before v had the heart to wake him up, they studied him. the real him, in his own body. despite being asleep, johnny’s face looked so tired and worn.

they squeezed johnny’s hand and instantly johnny’s eyes opened up.

“v, you’re awake!”

he quickly scooped them up into a hug, but still being gentle. they hugged for a while. v was still scared that all of this wasn’t real. they were actually hugging johnny and he wasn’t disappearing.

when they let go, johnny looked serious.

“we need to talk about some things.”

—————————————

so that’s why johnny looked really tired and why his hair seemed longer than what they remembered.

two years in a coma. most of their friends moved on.

it felt weird being back in night city too, especially now that they didn’t have the ability to use cyberware anymore, even getting it confirmed by vik.

they felt johnny’s hand clasp theirs.

“c’mon.”

he said he wanted to take them somewhere. v remembered instantly where they were: the oil fields.

he led them to the spot they talked before. this time, they sat next to each other. the etching from before, the js 2023, was between them.

“what’re we here for?”

“to say goodbye.”

johnny came here with one thing he mind. he wanted to put johnny silverhand, rockerboy turned terrorist, to rest. he wasn't that person anymore nor does he think he ever will be again.

johnny silverhand died in that tower. but, the johnny sitting at this gravesite didn't. he's alive and well and has new purpose in life: to be with the one he loves.

johnny never thought a quiet life would be something he ever wanted. but, as they drove away from the oil fields, he felt like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. he could be free to be happy. live under the radar as two unassuming people of night city.

and he is happy. and v's happy. and they're both alive. what more could he want? this is a blank slate for them and it's more than he could've ever hoped for.

[hornyjorny]

late night distractions

river ward x fem! v

summary: river decides he's finally had enough of the office, and decides to invite you over for a much needed break ;) an- i've literally been working on this for like. a fucking month by now lmao. anyway enjoy. will be posting more in the future warnings- smut (18+ mdni), soft dom river, sub!v, oral (f receiving) public s3x (whoops) , creampie, f!ngering, mild degradation, you are both horny gonks who desperately deserve a break, johnny is being annoying again

wc: 8k??? holy shit me wtf

In the darkness of his office, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and casefiles, all River Ward can bring himself to think about is you. 

The room is silent save for the endless droning of the ceiling fan above, and the distant hum of the city beyond. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast long shadows that dance like phantoms, wrapping the room in an eerie solitude. Outside the office window, the neon lights of Night City painted a vibrant tapestry of chaos upon the lonely walls. Piles of unsolved mysteries loomed around him, their weight pressing down on his weary shoulders. 

River Ward sits in front of his computer, hands poised on the keyboard. All he can do is mindlessly stare at the open file on the bright screen before him.  He can’t focus like this.  

He can’t stop thinking about you. 

Truth is, River just misses you. He yearns for you like a junkie craves a fucking boost. The demands of his work as a private investigator in Night City have become a never-ending fucking acid trip, a labyrinth of dead-end leads, and goddamn conspiracy theories that seem to lead to jack shit.

It’s been a long fucking couple of weeks.

Sure, he knew becoming a private investigator in N.C. was no easy task—it’s what he’s signed up for, after all. But by fuck, he’s drowning in his work with little resolve. River can’t really complain about the pay, either. He’s actually starting out not-so bad— but fuck, he’s always busy. And when you live in a world where there’s a literal ticking time bomb in your girlfriend’s head, ready to go off at any moment, the last thing you wanna be is fucking busy. The demands of his work feel like a fucking all-consuming whirlwind, a never-ending shitstorm of new info that all leads to buttfuck nowhere. And worst of all, he just wants to be home with you, enjoying the little time you guys have left together. 

He aches for the way he’s able to pull you in his big arms, missing the way you always get on your tippy-toes to reach in for a kiss, having to reach up for him just to reach his lips. What he truly craves more than anything else in the world is your presence— your infectious goddamn smile, your  laughter, your soft and tender touch. But he can’t go anywhere. Not till he makes a break in the case, at least. 

River's fingers hover over the keyboard, but as he tries to focus, the words blur into a goddamn kaleidoscope of nonsense. His work, his responsibilities—it all fades into the background, overshadowed by the overpowering sense of longing. He shifts his gaze from the computer to the neon-drenched shitshow beyond the window, the vibrant chaos of Night City. As he thinks of you, a goddamn tidal wave of longing washes over him, drowning out the relentless work-related bullshit that usually occupies his mind. 

But fuck, as much as he tries to be respectful, he just also really misses fucking you. It drives him insane how easily you submit to him whenever you’re stuffed with his huge dick. River’s just enamored by your sweet, soft little muffled cries of pure pleasure while he overtakes your deadly cunt. He loves the way your shoulders tense up when he hits particularly deep, loves the way your little face twists and contorts with sheer pleasure, all weakened and already fucked out within minutes of him shoving himself in.. 

Shit. He can't take it anymore. The case can wait. He wants you, and he wants you now. No use heading home now, right? 

It’s fuckin’ late, well past 12 AM.

…but it’s also when you happen to be out you’re usually out and about after a gig. 

Why not give it a shot? 

River’s heart aches a little as he pulls up your contact over the holo. He just really, really fucking misses you, and internally prays that you’ll pick up, even if just to hear the sound of voice for a little while. He just craves any semblance of you. With an unsteady breath, he finally calls. 

The eerie ringing of the holodex against the silence of the night’s air was deafening. His chest raises, heart pounding, desperately hoping you’ll pick up. 

But then, the call finally connects, and you’re greeting him with the biggest, most mischievous grin on your face. Fuck, hes glad you answered. “Shit, was just aboutta’ text you, you know. Been missing you, Detective..”

River's lips curl into a smile he couldn't hold back—relief washing over him at the sound of your voice. Hearing you admit that you missed him too made him damn-near light headed. He takes a steady, deep breath to prepare himself before he speaks.

“Been missing you more than just words can say, V," he finally replies, his voice laced with a blend of longing and affection. "I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you, you know. It's been... tough here without you lately. Still at the fuckin’ office, too..”

You can distinctively sense River’s distress, he looks exhausted, and you can’t help but to feel the pang of longing that fills your heart. You really did miss him too. But turns out River was right— you were actually out and about on one of your little hot-shot missions, and it so happened you were closeby. Your honest, original plan was to just catch up with your boyfriend, maybe stop by his place if he so happened to be up. 

 “You know what, River?" You reply, voice tone a mix of playfulness and genuine concern. "I've got news that might make your night a whole lot better.” 

Well shit, now you’ve got him reeled in. “Was actually gonna ask you if I could stop by— Jus’ finished a gig not far from your place. Been thinkin’ about you a lot lately, Riv.” 

Oh, fuck. What were the odds? 

His heart starts to jump in his chest. 

“I’m at the office right now,” He breathes quickly, voice dropping an octave as he whispers into the holo.“Would really love it if you wanna stop by..” He just sounds so fuckin’ soft, so needy, your heart melts a little bit. 

“Be there in five, Detective.”

“Preem,” he smiles. “See ya then, V.” 

When you walk through the door, River’s weary gaze shoots up from the mountains of papers scattered casefiles on his desk. His mechanical eye flickers a shade brighter— and he’s beaming. Fuck, he’s glad you showed. To him, you merged like an ephemeral beacon. His weary gaze, burdened by the weight of investigations, was abruptly lifted as it collided with your presence. 

Before you had entered, the  room was cast in an eerie quietness, illuminated solely by a dim desk lamp that struggled to push back the encroaching shadows. Beyond the window, the vibrant neons of the city painted a fractured mosaic on the walls, offering a glimpse of the relentless nightlife far below. 

It felt kind of… lonely, almost. A heavy quietness hung in the air, broken only by the distant hum of the city, reminding River of the isolation that often accompanied his late-night work. Regardless, you skillfully navigate the precarious stacks of paperwork strewn like toppled skyscrapers across the floor to your boyfriend. 

"V," he breathed, his voice a low rasp of longing, "you have no idea how good it is to see you right now.” 

Before you could make it into his arms, your digital companion materializes before you, the air around him fracturing into millions of tiny blue shards, peering over River’s shoulder, aviators raised downwards. 

“Things are lookin’ rough for Detective Dumbass,” he pauses, looking back up to you, a smug grin plastered across his face. “…Looks like there’s something other than work on his mind. Better come let your dog off the leash before he snaps.”

You internally groan. And so it begins. You shoot Johnny a look— before you turn back to River. 

“Guess I can say the same to you, Riv..” You sigh with a smile, reaching out to tenderly touch his arm. “Can’t stop thinking about you, you know. S’ been a while since I saw you..”

“I know,” River whispers, his heart when you wrap your arms tight around his waist, resting your head against his chest. Your hearts beat in tandem, a silent symphony of love rekindled.  “Couldn’t be without you for a second longer if I tried, V..think I would’ve finally lost it.”

You can hear it in his voice— he’s tired. Exhausted. 

So you decide to give your detective a moment of reprise amidst the chaos. Fuck it, you’ll be the first one admit it— you’re desperate too. You haven’t seen River in god knows how fucking long. Haven’t felt his skin against yours in ages. 

“Well, I’m here now, Detective Ward...” you whisper, tracing your index finger along his chiseled jawline, down his chest, down to the loops of his belt. “Why don’t you show me just how much you’ve missed me, then?” 

But regardless, your words carved through a path of intimacy that ignited a smoldering, burning fire. You swore mechanical eye shimmered with newfound brilliance. And in response to your playful assertion, his lips curved into a smile as radiant as the moonlight over the city's nocturnal canvas.

 “Be glad to, little merc.”

Oh shit, you hadn’t heard that little nickname in a while. But fuck, how you love when he calls you that. With little patience remaining within you, you finally crash your lips against his, and he borderline whimpers into your mouth, hands grabbing your ass as leverage to hold your shorter frame up into him. 

The sensation of his lips against yours feels borderline intoxicating. Everything about him drives you absolutely fucking insane— his mouth crashes against yours, letting out a little low groan into your mouth. You can’t help the way his excited eagerness sends little heatwaves down to your core. In that suspended moment, the world outside vanished into obscurity, all that mattered was him. 

But River pulls away, and your lips finally part. It seems like all time stops around you when you gaze into each other's eyes, your heavy, needy breaths rising and falling together in sync amidst the quiet of his office. 

“You know, V..” River whispers real low, finally breaking the moment of prolonged silence. “I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much. Missed everything about you. Can’t focus… can’t do nothin’ right now.”

Oh, you absolutely know what he’s getting at. 

But then, the familiar materialization of blue pixels flashes before you, digital companion appearing before your very eyes, leaning against the door frame. You can’t help but to internally groan— not again. Always picking the worst times to interject. 

“Told you so, dipshit. Detective’s sniffin’ around for more…”

Before you can snap back, he’s gone. 

Ugh. 

The remnants of your playful distraction lingers like a promise in the air, your fingers tapping along River’s beefy arm. “Soooo, River? Gonna ask me to help you out?”

Steady heavy hands grab at your hips, holding you into place. River leans down to your ear, his voice a salacious whisper; an uncharacteristically animalistic growl leaving him as he leans in close. 

“I’ll fuck you right here, right now, if you’ll let me, V…” he pauses, steely gaze meeting yours. “That’s how much I missed you.”

Oh, shit. 

It didn’t even cross your mind that he would ever actually wanna fuck in his own goddamn office. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. 

You’re Night City’s most dangerous merc— and he’s a fucking up-and-running detective, one whose job is made harder by people like you every day— your relationship defies any and all odds, but by Christ, you can’t deny that offer. Not when you crave him oh-so-desperately, not when he’s towering above you, peering down at you like you’re about to become his next meal.

Your breath catches in your throat immediately, his words sending a euphoric shockwave of lust to your core. Rationally, it’s a terrible fucking idea, kinda a public misdemeanor, and just borderline nasty. Sure, it’s late as hell, but River’s office isn’t the only damn one in his building. Getting caught is the last thing either of you need right now, but fuck, you both need eachother like you need oxygen. Neither of you want to hold back.  

Truth be told, you’d give anything to be fucked right here and now. This was a side of River Ward you’ve never really seen before— and you’re here for it. 

“Huh,” Johnny appears in your line of vision—lighting up a conjured cigarette from the depths of your imagination. He takes a long drag before exhaling,  the digital smoke dancing in the dim lighting around you. “…Didn’t actually think he had it in him to do that type of shit.”

You don’t even hear Johnny at this point. You completely push him aside. 

“Here? In your office?” You repeat, a sly, shit-eating grin stretching across your face. “Isn’t that a lil risky, Detective Ward?” 

River’s staring down at you like you’re about to become his dinner, both his dark amber eye and white mechanical one bearing into yours in anticipation of your answer. You’ve never seen him so… feral. You’re almost intimidated. 

“Don’t start, V..” He growls, the warmth of his ‘ganic hand brushes tenderly against your cheek, before he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “…Risky isn’t something that’s bothered you before, has it now, little merc?” 

So of course, you feed into him. You know how to play him better than he can play himself. Your hands reach down to his chest, slowly down to the loops of his belt. You give it a weak little tug, all whilst maintaining eye contact. Innocently, you look up at him, batting your eyelashes— then you shake your head. “Never has, never will, Detective Ward.” 

He can’t deny that, can’t deny you— not when you look at him like that. “That’s what I thought,” A wild grin stretches across his face—his usual soft demeanor now completely thrown out the window. He presses a brief, sloppy kiss to your lips before pulling away. 

 “Keep at it, then. See if you can handle me.”

There’s something about the way he delivers the words that makes you tremble, like prey standing helplessly before its predator. River doesn’t stop there—he growls; dragging his lips to your neck; trailing sloppy bites, spattering blues and purple marks. Before you can miss the heat of his hands they’re back on your waist, slowly just trailing down your sides. River’s hands are fucking huge— able to cover you almost entirely, and it makes you shudder a little. Sure, you’re dangerous enough, could easily handle him in a fight, but sometimes you felt like River could really snap you in half if he really wanted to. 

His fingers travel underneath the hemline of your shirt, caressing against your bare skin. His ganic’ hand against you is so warm, almost burning against your skin, while his damn-near freezing metal hand makes you shudder. It’s a familiar balancing of the two sensations that you hold so so dear, and your appreciation for the feeling only amplifies  when they slide underneath your bra. 

River stops in his tracks hands rising to grasp at your chest, squeezing your sensitive nipples for just a second, and you fucking whimper. This time, he offers you some reprise— and finally tugs both your shirt and your bra off of you, leaving you exposed to the cool air of his office. 

River swore your body was a fucking work of art, dimly-lit curves protruding through the darkness of the office, your hard nipples perking up at the coolness surrounding you. You look so cute when you shiver just a teeny bit when his thumb runs over your nipple. River smiles dumbly at you, a breathy little chuckle escaping him. 

“Best merc in all of Night City…” His deft fingertips move towards the waistband of your shorts, tearing them off of you as if they were nothing before stopping abruptly to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. “…And I’m about to fuck her stupid.”

You shiver a little at his words— your cheeks heating up, a familiar burn rising in your lower stomach. And before you can even respond, River’s pushing everything on his desk to the side, sending stacks of paper cascading to the floor, and he’s grabbing your ass again, lifting you up to rest your ass against the cool metal of the desk. 

River lowers himself to your ear— his voice real low. “Gonna take care of you now, pretty girl.” 

His big hands reach for your panties, deftly  tearing them down to your thighs. The air in the office is cool, and you shudder when his warm palms spread your thighs apart. Rough, calloused fingers inch between your legs to your glistening cunt, spreading your folds and slipping his digits into the wetness of your slit, moving up and down, collecting your slick with each little passing movement.

You can’t help the helpless curse that escapes your lips when his thumb slides across your wetness, before pressing it so softly over your now-exposed clit. You reel back with a desperate moan— and you begin to throb. Fuck. Shit. You feel so vulnerable and desperate, your thighs spread open for him on top of his desk, just waiting for his next move as he stares down at you with hunger shining in his eyes. 

River’s literally rock hard at this point, literally aching to be inside of you, but shit, you just look soo soo cute already, and you’re just so fucking needy for him. And all he had to do was call for you. 

River leans down to your level, taking the sensitive bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around against it, before switching to a soft suckling. His touch is tender— gentle, 

and sends little jolts of lust down your spine.  “F—Feels good…” you whimper weakly. 

He pulls away when you wiggle against him, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to his lips. You exhale deeply, eyebrows knitting together as your hips arch up a little— but you’re growing impatient again. You want, no, you need, more of him. Your core’s literally on fire. You swear, your mind is beginning to fog with nothing but the thought of his dick. You’re just so fucking horny— and he’s refusing to give you what you want. 

You’re about to beg him for more again— but before you can, his hands are on your hips, pulling you towards the edge of the desk so your legs drape off almost entirely. You know what River is about to do when he settles down on his knees between your thighs, his gigantic hands coming up to press them apart against the cool metal. 

River can't help but to stop dead in his tracks for a second to stare at your cute pussy glistening so heavenly in the dim light of his office. Man, it made his night at work actually totally fucking worth it. He was so grateful for his pretty merc, so grateful you allow him to delve between your thighs after a hard day. 

But the way he’s staring down at you sends literal goosebumps across your skin, he’s just enjoying the view for juuuuusstt a second. He can’t help but to admire your glistening cunt— you’re just too damn pretty. 

“Missed this preem pussy of yours, baby…” He sighs against you. “Can’t ever get enough.”

But you’re growing fucking impatient, the way he’s staring at you makes your insides burn and your pretty pussy drips eeeveen more against his desk.  “Stop starin’, hurry up…” 

“Nah,” he laughs. “Wanna enjoy the view first.” He's grinning as he parts your sticky folds with his thumb, rubbing tenderly at your clit with his thumb. 

Your lips immediately fall open with a moan— his breath hot against your throbbing cunt as he gives you the attention you needed for so fucking long. 

He moves up, and this time, he flattens his rough tongue to your dripping slit, sliding all the way up from your drenched hole, excruciatingly slow. Then, as if you weren’t already struggling to keep yourself under control, He folds his tongue up against your puffy clit, looking you dead in the eye. 

And you can’t take it. 

You shiver underneath him, cheeks flushing as you turn your head away to avoid his gaze. But oh, he knows how much he’s embarrassing you, and he loves it. He pulls away from your sopping cunt, his voice switching to a soft coo. “Awww, baby…” He pulls away from you. “Can you look at me, lil’ merc?”

He almost loses it when you peer down him with that cute, innocent gaze of yours when you each for his beefy shoulders, trying so hard to stop your thighs from squeezing around him as he starts slurping at your aching bud. “Good girl… Always followin’ orders..”

You whimper soft curses into the night’s air, his name leaves your lips, and River perks up— letting out a little pleased hum against you. Then, he wraps his beefy ganic’ arm around your hips, holding you close to him as his cold metal fingers brush against your wetness, before sliding into your tight hole. 

A jolt is ripped through you, a whine escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion. You can feel the way his fingers stretch you out with such ease— they’re fucking thick, and long— they reach so so deep inside of you. “Y—You’re reachin’ deep, Riv...” A filthy moan falls from your parted lips. 

And he grins, tapping his fingers faster against your sopping walls. “You’re so fucking needy— s’ cute,” River chuckles.  “You’re just as bad as I am..” he whispers, and begins to drive his digits in and out of your sloppy cunt. Immediately, your back arches— and within seconds, he’s ripping desperate little whimpers from your throat as he renders you fucked dumb with his fingers alone. 

You sob out a little curse—using what little strength you had left from the day to squeeze your thighs around his head. He’s filling you nearly full again, your tightness constricting around his single digit. 

Instead of pushing your thighs away, he embraces it, siding his free hand underneath your ass to guide your tired hips as he presses a sloppy wet kiss to your aching bud, slipping in another finger. This time, you cry out— and you buck your needy hips against his face. 

“Careful now,” River warns, tightening his strong grip on your hips, actually holding your hips down now, “Be nice, baby…” he mumbles between your thighs, growling against your pussy. “Tough it out fr’ me and stay still.”

A little twinge of embarrassment runs down your spine. You truly cannot help it. “Y—Yes sir…” you absent-mindedly moan.  You're barely holding it together. 

“Sir?” River repeats, big fingers are drilling in and out of you, stretching you just so perfectly. “Is that what you’re calling me now?” His digits tap soo deeply inside of you, fucking you harder and deeper than your own ever possibly could.

“Look at you, V… you’re fuckin’ desperate fr’ me. Turned you into my whore again real quick.”

 His words make you fucking throb— and you can’t do anything but whimper incoherent little cries of pure humiliation, and you try to bury your face in your hands as your cheeks burn.  

Your boyfriend, however, immediately catches on to your embarrassmenf. River’s voice lowers to a soft coo—“Didn’t tell you to stop callin’ me that, now did I?” he pulls away from your hole for just a quick second— ceasing his abuse to give your clit a quick little kiss of appreciation, eyes looking up at you as if you were his fucking universe. “Keep at it, lil’ merc. Doin’ sooo good for me.”

And then he begins again, sucking and licking at your poor clit. God, you love him. You’ve always lost your fucking mind whenever River stuffed his big fingers inside of you, it just feels so good. 

Even worse, he’s literally moaning against you, sending little vibrations throughout you. It’s far too much, he’s soo mean, but you couldn’t possibly get enough of the euphoria he’s giving you— you feel like you’re fucking drowning. 

You want to buck your hips against him so so badly, but you know fighting is futile at this point. So, your tired thighs begin to shake beneath him, your drippy pussy already beginning to throb in anticipation of an incoming orgasm. You’re fucked. 

“River— Detective— Sir…” you choke out. “M’gonna… gonna cum.”

He can feel the way your thighs tighten around him, the way your sharp nails start to dig and scratch into his big shoulders. Your cute sloppy cunt is starting to twitch and pulse beneath his licks, and your pretty face starts to twist in pure euphoric bliss. River hums against you, a pussy-drunk grin plastered on his face. He knows you’re gonna cum, and he’s being damn-smug about it. 

But oh, he can’t take it. You feel the coolness of his metal hand against your ass, and before you feel inclined to face him, you hear the telltale “ziiip!” and shuffling of fabric as he pulls down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his throbbing, rock-hard cock with one hand, running his ganic hand up and down against his hard shaft. Anything to keep those thoughts of fucking you at bay (for now). 

He’s so fucking mean with the way he’s eating you out, overstimulainng your already sensitive cunt hard. No matter how hard your shaky thighs try to squeeze around his head, he just keeps sucking your clit, shoving his thick fingers in and out of you as your stomach coils and your cunt throbs. You’re cumming. And you can’t help it anymore. 

You’re well-past the point of giving a fuck about how loud you were being. You lose yourself, then. “Give it to me, V,” he groans against you, and his name falls from your lips like a prayer— a mantra. You’re keening into sweet “ah-ah-ah’s” as he slurps at your cunt, repeatedly tapping his big, thick metal fingers inside of you, devouring you whole. 

River’s heart flutters in his chest when he feels your legs begin to shake in his rough grasp as you finally gush all over him. He can’t decide whether to focus on your fucked-out face, looking all cute with your saliva-coated lips forced ajar, your eyes all glossy— or your destroyed, soaked, puffy cunt. 

“Love my messy lil’ merc..” He coos softly in your ear. “Got no idea how proud I am, pretty girl...”

Your cunt squelches and drips onto the desk everytime he pulls his cool metal fingers in and out— fucking you through your explosive orgasm, and you’re just whimpering and moaning so fucking much. He’s forcing electrical shocks down your tired body as he renders you destroyed with his tongue alone. 

But oh, you ache for the way his throbbing cock splits you in two, you miss his little whimpers and groans when your tight, sloppy pussy hugs him tight. 

And suddenly, you’re overcome with the desire for more. 

River continues pumping his veiny shaft in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers as little moans fall from both of you. You squeal when his harsh licks become too much for your overstimulated pussy, yanking your thighs away from his head. 

He stops immediately—pulling himself away from you,  and looks back up at you with his entrancing white mechanical eye with such genuine concern, eyebrows raising as he stares up at you. “You okay, baby?” 

You pant— breaths heaving from your chest, and River rests his head against your plush thighs, looking up at you with concern. You sit there for a minute, panting. Your pussy pulsates and throbs beneath you, and you’re completely and utterly overwhelmed already. But fuck, there’s something else inside of you— and it wants more. No, you need more of him. You ache for his cock. 

You collect yourself— you want him now. “Y—Yeah, m’fine…” you pant. “…Want you to fuck me now, Riv… please,” you pant. 

River grins— a little pleased hum falling from his lips as he presses a little soft kiss to your thigh. “You sure, V?”

“Please, sir…” you whine, wiggling your hips. You truly, genuinely swear you need him inside of you at this point. 

“That’s all you needed to say,” he whispers. With little warning, his metal hand gives your ass a slap, your body jolting with a nasty moan. “Breathe deep for me an’ stay still.”

You just can’t help but to follow his command, allowing yourself to take a deep breath in, bracing yourself against the desk. River’s cock is literally throbbing. He’s been aching to be inside of you since the moment you fuckin’ walked in. He slides his thick cock against against your slick, soaked folds up against your sore, aching clit. He chuckles when you let out a little whimper. But truth is, he’s just as down bad. You’re so fucking wet, so warm— he needs you now. 

You feel his tip prod at your hole again— but this time he’s pressing deeper and he’s giving into what you both want.

Your chest heaves and struggles for air as your glossy eyes stare back into his, whimpering so so softly as River gently begins to roll his hips, the tip of his cock nudging at your slit with each slide up, his ganic’ hand resting on your lower tummy to press down, while his metal hand slides up your body to press against your throat.

River’s thickness slides all the way into you until he finally bottoms out. Your mouth falls agape as he knocks the wind from your lungs. He’s fucking big. Thick. Hard. His eyes hungrily trace over your body; observing how your chest rose and fell, your scarred body shaking in his arms; legs trembling as you struggle to take him fully.

And although this definitely isn’t your first time, you briefly struggle to handle his size, and it even aches a little. It’s been too fucking long since he’s filled you like this, and you both know it. “Forgot how—forgot how big you are..” you breathe. 

River, on the other hand, is in heaven. 

You’re literally dripping around him, hole clenching tight around him as his cock struggles to stay still inside of you. His big, beefy arms come down besides you— pinning you down to the desk. “You’re so tight, V. Haven’t been stretched out good in a while, huh?”

You shake your head. His cockhead is literally nudging at your cervix, and it’s making you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You feel… good. 

“Think you can handle this dick?” he smiles, and you nod, your eyes fluttering open as 

River’s metal hand wraps around the back of your neck, his fingers coldly pressing up against the sides of your throat as he squeezes. 

“Yes, sir!” you cry out hoarsely. The feeling of his firm fingers pressed firmly against your throat makes you fucking weak— causes you to get eeeeven wetter, and even more fucking desperate for him. 

River is letting out low groans that echoes within the quietness of the room as his hard cock delves into you. He just can’t help himself— his lil merc’s pussy takes him too fucking good, and he can’t help the way his hips rentlessly slam into you.

He’s ripping pathetic, high-pitched whines and whimpers from your lips, loving the way your smaller hands hands grab at his shoulders for dear-fucking-life as he fills you to the very brim, the tip of his leaky cock pressing agaisnt your cervix. It feels… amazing. You can’t help but to be vocal—River’s cock always stretches you out so so fucking well, and there’s even a little ache from the way he stuffs you completely full over and over again, slamming you into the desk with little remorse, just using you like a fucking toy. You’re trying sooooo hard to compose yourself, to keep yourself from sobbing and clawing at him. But oh, you’re such a terrible liar, you’re enjoying him sooo much. 

His dick is literally rock-hard, even beginning to tremble a little bit inside of you, and he has to force his hips to stop. He takes a shaky breath, a low groan falling from his lips, and you can’t help but to just stare at him, his eyed half-lidded, mechanical one dimming softly against the darkness. He’s soooo needy and it's just straight up adorable. He’s literally aching to fuck you stupid, it fucking kills you. But god, it’s just the perfect opportunity to tease him a little bit.

A little smug grin forms across your lips as an idea pops into mind. Ever-so-slowly, you begin to move and grin your roll hips back against River’s, fucking yourself back into him the best you possibly could given his huge size. “Thinka— ah—Think you can handle me, Detective?” 

But River’s not having it tonight. Not about to handle shit from his dangerous little doll, not about to let you, the most dangerous merc in Night City, win this one. His hips snap to yours viciously, pulling his thick cock all the way out before pumping it back up to you full-force, filling you to the literal brim over and over again. “Don’t start shit with me now, baby,” River growls. “You were doing sooo well— was bein’ such a good little merc for me..” he coos. 

River’s hand grabs at your hips again and forces hard hits into you. It’s far too much for your little mind to handle, but by god, you loved it.  River can’t get enough of the way your nails dig into his back, the way your legs kick out over and over from underneath him as you struggle to bring yourself to form words. “S—Sorry, Detective Ward..” you sob 

He peels himself off of you, bracing himself internally as his hands move to pry your legs apart as he forces himself even deeper. River’s voice is a deep growl, as if encouraging you to acknowledge the mess he’s making between your thighs. “Guess we know not to talk back now, huh baby?” 

River grins when you cry out little “uh huhs” and hips begin to ram into your ass, big hands digging into your hips for leverage. With each thrust, he’s knocking the air out of your lungs, forcing literal jolts of pleasure to fire from synapses.

Through the tiniest, weakest gasps, and through the soft, wet sounds of River fucking himself into your dripping pussy, you feel like you’ve already been broken in at this point. Purely fucked stupid. Your brain’s beginning to feel like it’s short-circuiting, your core’s on fucking fire. 

You’re totally unaware of yourself at this point as he slams against your ass, uncaring as you let desperate, depraved whiny moans escape your lips. You sound filthy— you no longer care about getting caught, the only thing on your mind is him. Your pussy squelches against the quietness of the office, your nasty moans bouncing off of the walls. All you can do is hiccup little “thankyouthankyouthankyou!!’s” as River stuffs you full, and he loves it. 

“There you go, V. Good girl, givin’ in….finally.”

A gasp escapes you, your pussy clamping down on him as you nod over and over again. But he can’t help but to give you a little chuckle as his ganic hand wraps around the your throat juuuusssttt enough to squeeze a little. And oh, just like that, he’s entirely set you off. Within minutes, he’s fucked the most dangerous merc in Night City into submission. What a fuckin’ achievement that one is. 

You’re so so out of it, mind dumb from the combined pain and pleasure. the wetness of your cunt squelches and drips whenever he pulls out his cock to fuck it deeper. Your slick even drips down his balls— and it drives him fucking crazy.  River is ripping sobs and little hiccups  of pleasure from your throat as he angles his cock deep inside, almost folding you in half, your knees wrapped right around his back to hold him deeper. But fuck, he’s getting loud too. You both are. 

You’re fucked out by your pretty cop boyfriend. You. The most dangerous merc around. It’s a funny fucking thought, almost. Johnny’s gonna lose his shit again after this, but your head is literally spinning, your thighs beginning to tremble against River’s mean thrusts. You feel drunk off of him, and your pussy literally trembles whenever he looks you dead in the eyes as he fucks the life outta you.

 You swear your system is genuinely being overloaded by sheer fucking pleasure. Jolts of electrical euphoria slide down to your best spots over and over again. But there’s a creeping, burning feeling burning up within you, and your body seizes. 

Fuck. You’re already close. Like the obedient merc you are, you warn your detective, even as tears of dumbfound pleasure slide down to your cheeks, even as you struggle to let the words fall from your lips. “C—Close!!” you hiccup. 

“Already, baby? Finishing up so soon?” River teases, and he can’t help but to stare down at you at the absolute, utter enchanting way tears begin to spill from the corners of your eyelids as you try so fucking hard to hold your orgasm back for him, to not let it overtake you even when your tummy coils and you’re forced to heave out your little breaths and moans as he literally fucks the air from your lungs. 

“Riiiivvvvv…” you whine, half-kisses eyes

closing. “Jus.. jus’ lemme finish..”

He can feel the way your juicy pussy attempts to milk him dry, the way your entire whole body shivers and trembles beneath him. River presses a little kiss to your forehead, still driving his hips into yours. “Hang on a little while longer for me, yeah?”

River swears, you look fucking adorable. All spread out beneath him on his desk, your nails desperately scratching at his bare back while you try to wrap your legs around his waist. Your eyes are tear-filled and glazed over— your mouth slightly agape. He’s grunting, panting— River feels every little contraction and pulse of your tight cunt around his thick, veiny cock.  can’t hold back for any longer— he needs you to finish.You’re trying sooo hard to hold yourself back, and fuck, it’s adorable—he can’t help but just to tease you a little. 

River hunches over you, getting real close in between his ruthless thrusts and little groans of pleasure, his voice is hoarse— low, as if he’s struggling to keep himself together. 

“Ask nicely, V.”

A twinge of embarrassment shoots down to your core at his filthy demand. At this point, you know you’ve got no choice but to obey. You open your mouth, and let the sinful, filthy words you know he wants to hear slide from your lips, and you sure as hell can’t tell whether you love it or hate him for it. 

 “Please let me cum, Detective,” you whine, your chest beginning to heave as you struggle to hold yourself back from releasing just yet. It’s fucking almost painful the way you’d body convulses and just seizes; he’s just giving you too much pleasure.  “Been s—soo good for you… been takin’ alla you so well…” You babble out, the first tears of pleasure beginning to slide down your puffy cheeks. 

 “I want you, River. Need you now. Need this. Please, just let me—please…” you beg. And River finally gives in, leaning down to press a little kiss to your forehead whilst in the middle of absolutely destroying you. 

And oh, River Ward just couldn’t get enough. 

A little smirk of satisfaction spreads across his face at your debauched little begs. River was always so proud whenever he got to make his lil merc finish— and just fucking looved to hear you beg beneath him. 

“Go ahead, little mercenary, you can cum for me,” River growls, relishing in the way your pussy tightens when he growls deeply in your ear. “N’ don’t hold back on me, sweetheart.”

So you finally heed his command, and finally let go of the insane amount of tension building up within your stomach. Within seconds, you’re gushing against him, pussy constricting impossibly tightly around his dick, and your entire body jolts— your back arches entirely off of the desk as your jaw goes entirely slack. You’re genuinely not able to talk, you’re too fucking absorbed in able to letting the crashing euphoria overtake you. 

“O-Oh, Fuu—ckkk…” River groans, his voice cracking so subtly sweet as he struggles to chase his own orgasm. You’re literally milking him for all he’s worth— and it’s been too long, he’s literally aching to cum, and you know it too. 

You’ve got him whimpering, his head is thrown fowards as he fucks you through his own orgasm. Through your half-lidded eyes, you watch your beloved detective. “Cum inside… please, Riv. N—Need it,” you cry out. 

River chuckles—his  thrusts are animalistic— borderline furious as he drives his hips into yours. “Remember, you asked for it, little mercenary…”

You literally can only watch when River rocks his hips back and forth into you, as if testing how deep he’s claimed his deadly merc. But even with a muddled mind and blurry eyes, even as your sweet detective boyfriend roughly grasps onto the meat of your thigh hard enough to bruise, you notice his hips beginning to falter, slow down, his own thighs beginning to tremble. 

You genuinely swear you catch his eyes rolling back for just a second.

“Fill… me… up,” you pant, and as if on cue, hips finally stop as he presses his weight onto you with a groan— and pushes himself as deep as possible, filling you up to the brim before he shoots velvety ropes inside, pumping you full of of his hot cum.  “Fuck—fuckfuckfuckfuck…” 

It’s just been so so long since’s he’s felt your warm,  pretty pussy clench around him, and he’s thrown over the fucking edge. He can’t bring himself to pull out, not like this, he just needs to enjoy the feeling of you milking him of all he’s worth, he needs you to take every single drop. It’s just been far too long since he’s last felt you like this. Around his trembling, aching dick, you clamp and squeeze against him in like a fucking godsend. He can’t get enough of your pretty pussy dripping all over him, letting him pump your pretty pussy full of his cum. 

You look utterly etheral in the dim glow of his office, naked, fucked-out, panting and heaving with tears of pure, dumb-founded pleasure running down your cheeks from the orgasm he genuinely ripped out of you after sooo long. 

You both sit still, quivering and shaking as you pant and struggle to breathe as you come down from your respective highs. 

Your eyes flutter open when he pulls out of you, a trail of cum sliding from your abused hole down to your ass. His calloused fingers cup your chin so so gently as he slides his overwhelmed cock against your soaked folds, still trying to savor your juices while he still could. 

Another moment of silence passes between you as you sit still for a minute, all spread out and panting. 

“Need you to look at me, V…” he pants, a dumbstruck little smile spreading across his face when you tilt your timid gaze up to meet his, your eyes fluttering open. The pad of his thumb slides across your cheek— and your heart burns with love at his gentle touch. “Thank you,” he breathes, voice shallow, chest heaving a little. “I… I needed that.” 

River's strong hands find their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space left to bridge. You willingly slump against him, finding solace in his warm embrace. 

"I know you did," you reply with a weak smile, your voice reduced to a meek whisper. With a shaky hand, you cup his jaw, your touch conveying more love and appreciation than your words ever could. "I needed that, too."

As you both lay entangled in each other's arms, the dim office around you seemed to fade away. The quiet hum of the city and the eerie darkness disappeared, replaced by the warmth of your long-awaited embrace. In the daring midst of Night City's chaos, you and River had finally reached a moment of peace and solace in each other's arms.

A lingering moment of silence passes, and River finally speaks, his voice raspy and exhausted. "V, let's go home. Can’t fuckin’ stand this office anymore..” he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back to gaze longingly into your eyes.

You meet his steely gaze,  your eyes locking with his. “Mhm... was thinkin’ the same thing," you replied with a knowing smile.

River’s strong, reassuring hands lift you off of his lap. With the most gentle and softest of touches, River helps you dress, sliding your clothes back onto your exhausted body. The moment is intimate—filled with an unspoken affection that neither of you dared to disturb. 

….Except for Johnny. 

Your digital companion strikes again, ashing out his cigarette against the concrete.

 “Well… guess the star-crossed lovers are finally on their way out. Enjoy this while you can, V— ain’t gonna last.”

You can’t bring yourself to bitch back right now— the moment between you and River is just too perfect, so you just mentally shrug off Johnny's caustic remark. You knew him well enough to understand that, beneath his shitty cynical exterior, he harbored some form of care for you. 

Johnny's holographic form appeared, leaning against a digital wall as he continued his tirade."I've seen a lot of 'em come and go, these star-crossed lovers," he spits, his tone still dripping with sarcasm. "But you, V, you always manage to surprise me. Guess I should be happy you found someone like River to put up with your crazy ass."

You can’t help but to laugh inwardly, your thoughts projecting to Johnny, "Well, aren't you just a bucket of sunshine today? You know what they say, Johnny, love makes the world go 'round."

He snortes, his cyber visage maintaining its cool composure. "Yeah, love. The most preem emotion in the 'verse, huh?"

Your smirk was evident in your mental reply, "Jealous, Johnny?"

He rolled his virtual eyes, flicking his digital cigarette away. "Nah, I've had my time, V. But for your sake, I hope it lasts."

As you and River reach the exit of the office building, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment, knowing that, for now, you have found a love that was worth cherishing, no matter what Johnny or Night City throws your way.

Hand in hand, you and River leave the office behind, heading toward the sanctuary of your shared world—where your love could flourish and bring you the peace you both desperately desired after such a long day. Home was where your hearts truly belonged, a place where you could find solace in each other's arms, where love thrived amid the bleary, unending chaos of the city around you. 

[mango-parfait]

Confession by the docks

I'm not sure how Johnny would react but I couldn't stop thinking about it so I drew something really quickly.

[elf-trash]

I can't believe it's been almost 2 years since I last updated The Rebel Path ughgslkjsdf my goal for the month is to change that

[aceghosts]

I Know You Feel Lost, But I'm Here To Wander With You

Summary: The week that Rooney’s family died is always the worst week of the year.

Rooney is having a bad week, the anniversary of their family death's looming over them. Luckily, they've got Yorinobu in their corner.

Title comes from Being As An Oceans' Find Our Way.

Rating: M

Warnings: PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE! This deals very explicitly with Rooney's grief and violent loss of their family. (Rooney is originally from Mass Effect with a Colonist background. This fic is adapting that background.) They are in a dark place, and thus, some of Rooney's thoughts, such as not wanting to exist, may be triggering. It also relieves Rooney's memories of that day and the traumatic things they saw, including watching someone die in their arms. Other warnings are depiction of violence, survivor's guilt, childhood trauma, discussions of dysfunctional childhoods (kind of), and drinking to cope. I think that covers everything, but if I need to tag for anything else, let me know.

Words: 5,188 words

Author's Note: Takes place before the events of CP2077, roughly six years before. I strongly encourage you to read Is This the End Or Is This the Beginning if you have not, as this fic directly references events in that fic.

Tagging (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @sergeiravenov, @voidika,

@carlosoliveiraa, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @derelictheretic, @imogenkol, @theelderhazelnut,

@strangefable, @cassietrn, @direwombat, @cloudofbutterflies92

AO3

The week that Rooney’s family died is always the worst week of the year.

Rooney’s normally unflinching, steady demeanor turns brittle. Their mood is an ever-vicious cycle of grief looping into numbness with static in their brain, which eventually loops back into a grief that threatens to swallow them whole, pulling Rooney beneath its dark depths. Their sleep schedule goes to hell, ghosts haunting their dreams. Even in their waking hours, the ghosts haunt them, always in the corner of their mind. Nothing holds any interest for them, and they’re nauseous all the time, only able to pick at their food. The weight of a broken promise weighs heavily on their shoulders, and Rooney feels like they’re drowning underneath it all, exhausted from fighting the tide. All they want to do is hide in their room underneath blankets until the storm passes, when they finally grasp onto some sense of normality. Most years, Rooney powers through, only taking the day of their family’s death off. Their usual ritual is to spend the day alone, writing unsent letters to the ghosts they carry with them. 

Their grief takes on a different form this year, a more malevolent form. It hits harder, a dark, black cloud hanging over them. It’s so hard to breathe, to simply exist. Their limbs are tied down, each movement more difficult than the last. They feel so numb to it all, to the whole point of their existence. All Rooney wants to do is to stop existing, simply dissipate into nothing. They want to let the waves pull them under, to simply stop fighting and give in for once. Rooney wonders if this year is harder because they died and now know death intimately. Maybe, it’s the fact they’re stuck in this Arasaka facility, amongst enemies and isolated from their comrades. Maybe, it’s that small glimpse of what they saw between life and death. Maybe, it’s the fact that they know they will be denied death, doomed to walk this earth as long as someone else demands it. If they died now, Rooney knows Arasaka would pull them back, deny them the dignity of simply being able to die.

And then, there is Yorinobu, Rooney’s only friend in this lonely place. They avoid him, leaving sessions early and ducking into hiding places when he searches for them. He doesn’t need to see Rooney like this, doesn’t have to know about any of this. Rooney doesn’t want him to think less of them, if he doesn’t already know. They need to focus on getting information for him. They need to focus on their mission. And, perhaps selfishly, Rooney does not want Yorinobu to worry about them. No one should have to worry about them. The grief will pass like it always does, and Rooney will be fine...right?

“We’re done, Shepard,” Leah, one of the scientists, says, openly disappointed with their poor performance, a common theme this week, “Go to your next session.” Right, another combat test. Leah had just run through a short test of their quickhacking capabilities. Miles, another scientist, wanted to put Rooney through a combat test with their optical camouflage.

“I will escort them to their next session.” They slowly look over in Yorinobu’s direction, unaware he was there. Arms crossed over his chest, he smiles at them warmly, eyes only on Rooney.

Rooney stares at him blankly, unable to muster even the smallest smile. They should be excited to see Yorinobu, ready to dish out what they know to him. Instead, Rooney feels nothing, hollow, like every other day of this forsaken week. Leah, who must have only realized he was here as well, bows. Shooting a glare at Rooney for their perceived rudeness, she replies, “Yes, Yorinobu-Sama. Shepard would be honored to accompany you.”

Yorinobu’s smile drops, brow furrows in concern as Rooney lethargically walks toward him. Shit, they need to act normally. They fall into step with him as they leave the room, still mute. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Not nearly a convincing enough answer. “Shepard,” He starts, voice soft, “I know you would prefer to talk with one of your fellow soldiers, but I would like to listen if you need someone.”

Rooney feels a lump in their throat, swallowing it down. “I’m okay,” They assure him, gently brushing their hand against his, “I’m just tired.”

He eyes them suspiciously, eventually relenting. “I have some news that you may be interested in. Some of it I can tell you now, the rest later.” As he talks, Rooney tunes him out, his voice becoming background noise like everything else. Their brain is unable to concentrate, thinking sluggishly. Every once in a while, Rooney offers a nod or a small noise of acknowledgment to keep up the appearance they are listening. “Now, I know you must not be listening.”

Shaking their head as they stop in their tracks, Rooney apologizes, “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” Yorinobu stops beside them, placing his hand on their shoulder in concern. Guilt burns within Rooney. He shouldn’t worry about them; no one should. They’ll power through this, just like everyone expects them to.

“I-.”

“Shepard!” Fucking hell, all of the goddamn people it had to be her, Rooney’s least favorite person in the facility. Dr. Naomi Kimura, their psychologist, dredged up every single awful thing mentioned in their psych profile as if it would magically convince Rooney to talk. Instead, Rooney shut down, staring at their hands quietly until their time was up. And this week, she was at her worst, mentioning their family constantly, how hard it must have been, and how Rooney could talk to her. It took every inch of their being to resist punching her, especially when she mentioned Jack. How dare she even mention his name. Rooney prefers dying again to having to talk to Dr. Kimura about one of the worst days of their life. “How are you feeling today, Shepard?” she asks, catching up to the pair.

They look down, staring at their shoes, fists clenched tightly. “I think Shepard is tired,” Yorinobu intervenes, “You should give them space.”

Dr. Kimura sighs. “Yes. Of course, they would be tired,” her pitying voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and Rooney bites the inside of their cheek, fighting the urge to scream. “I wanted to make sure that my patient was feeling well, especially on the anniversary of something so tragic.”

“Something tragic?” Yorinobu echoes.

“Their family,” They start walking, unable to listen. Rooney won’t give her the satisfaction of them telling her to shove it. And they don’t know if they can stomach Yorinobu looking at them like…like…

“Excuse us, Dr. Kimura.” Yorinobu excuses himself, catching up to Rooney. “Where are you going? What is goi-?”

“I should go,” Rooney cuts him off, their voice robotic and detached, leaving a confused Yorinobu behind.

—

Later that evening, when Rooney reaches their room after an afternoon of tests, Yorinobu stands outside their room. In his hands, he has a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Would you like to talk? Or drink?” Yorinobu holds the bottle of whiskey up for Rooney. They soften, recognizing the name on the bottle. It’s the same brand, the one that led to their first real conversation. To Rooney becoming an informant, and eventually, they suppose, a friend. Their eyes water, a sob stuck in their throat. “Did-Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s complicated,” Rooney wipes at their eyes, clearing their throat, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He relaxes, his shoulders dropping. Yet, Yorinobu’s brow is furrowed, watching them carefully. “We should talk,” Rooney says, knowing that they owe Yorinobu the truth, “Can we go to your office?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around their shoulder. Rooney leans into him, resting their head on his shoulder. He feels so sturdy when they are so weak, like a small boat being tossed upon the waves in a storm.

—

Making themselves comfortable on the black leather couch in Yorinobu’s office, each with a glass of whiskey, Rooney takes a sip, needing to work up their courage. “I…um…” they start hesitantly, the words reluctant to leave their mouth.

Yorinobu slides an arm behind them, hand on their shoulder. “Take your time.”

“Right,” Rooney takes another sip, “Do you remember what I told you about my family?”

“You mentioned they died when you were sixteen,” a horrified look comes over him, quickly connecting the dots, “Is this the day they-?”

Rooney nods, confirming his suspicion as Yorinobu takes a sharp breath. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now how they’ve died.” Everyone knows. In the Militia, it was an open secret that being around Rooney was likely to get you killed. Unlucky Shepard. Go with them on a mission, and you won’t come back.

“I have not.” Wait, what? They look over at him in confusion. “I knew you would tell me on your own terms,” Yorinobu admits, “You are honest with me. I can be patient if you need me to be.”

Their guarded heart softens at his admission. “Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me.”

Silence washes over the both of them as Rooney thinks through their next words. They’re so used to people knowing them by their reputation. The Soldier who got shit done. The Sole Survivor. With Yorinobu, none of those expectations are placed upon them. Rooney is free to be themself. It is an oddly wonderful feeling; it is an oddly terrifying one. “I guess I could start at the beginning…”

He nods, allowing Rooney to continue. “I grew up in a small Biotechnica Company Town. My mom, Hannah Shepard, worked as the head of security.” They remember their mother, a former Militech officer, brave and fearless. Never backing down. “She was really brave, taught me how to shoot my first gun too. Taught me that it would be my responsibility to look after Jack.�� From a young age, their mom had taught them how to shoot, simply stating: ONE DAY, YOU’LL NEED TO PROTECT YOUR BROTHER. A duty that Rooney solemnly took. A duty they failed. “My dad, Aiden Shepard, was an agricultural engineer. He was so kind, always encouraging my brother and me.” Rooney always remembers their dad as a soft, kind man. He had a green thumb, teaching Rooney all he knew about plants and farming. Their favorite memories of him are sitting with their dad on the porch bench on summer evenings, both reading together in silence, yet enjoying each other’s company.

“I had a younger brother, Jack, and a cousin, Danny, my age. Jack was so bright and so sweet. Didn’t have a mean bone in his body. I’m sure if he were still alive, he would have done something great.” In their mind, Jack smiles brightly at them, fiddling with some machine he was working on. His enthusiasm was infectious. Jack deserved to be alive; he should be alive. Not Rooney. “Danny was always getting into trouble, but it was trouble I always wanted to be a part of.” They remember the way he would grin mischievously, ready to drag Rooney and Jack into some of his schemes. Despite the trouble the trio would get into, Rooney wouldn’t trade any of those memories for the world.

“Home was gorgeous.” Rooney still feels the sun on their face, the warm breeze flowing through their hair. They hear the rustle of the wheat as the breeze flows through it. “The skies were always a soft blue with a gentle breeze blowing through the wheat. It was like paradise.” How naive Rooney was. They should have appreciated it more, enjoyed what little time they had there. Now, home was a memory, a place they could never return to.

 "I…understand.” His soft utterance surprises them. Yorinobu sips his whiskey. “When I think of my childhood, I think about how wonderful it was sometimes, how happy I used to be…”

“How you wish you could go back,” They finish, “But you can’t, you can never go back.”

“Yes,” the understanding look in his eyes makes Rooney feel a little less lonely, “After what my father had shown me, the veil over my eyes had been lifted. It was a lie, a lie to make me complacent, dependent. He used that lie to mold me into the son he thought I should be. Obedient, Deferential. He had destroyed the home I had known. Your situation is different.”

Rooney sips their whiskey. “Yeah,” their voice cracks, “Home doesn’t exist anymore, wiped off the map, all the people gone.” They pause, their throat tight. “Except for me.” Cursed to live; cursed to survive.

“Shepard,” His thumb rubs comfortingly against the bare skin of their freckled shoulder, “You do not have to tell me this. I will respect-.”

“No, I want to,” They cut him off, inhaling a deep breath, “It’s a little raw considering…”

“I do not want to push if it makes you feel unwell.”

“You’re not pushing; you’re the first one who hasn’t pushed me to talk about this,” Their mind flashes back to Dr. Kimura, always pushing and prodding, “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”   

“I am glad I can be here for you.”

Rooney gives him a watery smile, dropping it a second later. “The first thing I remember about this day is the night before, especially the fight that I had with my mom.” Yorinobu raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “We were fighting a lot. I wanted to join a Corp, Militech specifically, to see the world, and she thought I was naive, that I was going to make a huge mistake.”

“Militech?” Yorinobu blurts out, surprised.

They nod. “Imagine how differently things would have turned out if I still joined Militech afterwards.”

“We would not have met.”

“Yeah, I know how Militech and Arasaka feel about each other.” Rooney looks down at their whiskey glass. “I can’t forget what I told my mom that night. I told her that hated her.” I HATE YOU SO MUCH, the awful words reverberate around in their head.  “I told her that I hated her for trying to keep me in that stupid town, that I wasn’t going to be stuck there forever, miserable like she was.” YOU CAN’T KEEP ME HERE. I WON’T BE STUCK HERE IN THIS TOWN AND END UP A MISERABLE BITCH LIKE YOU. Their hands shake, tears welling in their eyes. Rooney would give anything to take those words back, to reverse the hands of time, and tell their mom one last time that they love her. They love her so much. Rooney would tell her that they were naive and stupid, understanding what Hannah was trying to protect them from. “What a pair we make, huh? You with Saburo, and me with my mom.”

Yorinobu smiles. “It is natural for children to rebel, to want differently than the path their parents planned for them. You are not wrong for wanting that.”

“I suppose so.” Rooney isn’t sure if they were wrong for wanting, but they should have spoken to their mom differently. “The next day, a group of bandits attacked our town. I’m not sure how they managed it. We fended off attacks before with little damage, but this was different.” It was slaughter, an act of cruel and senseless violence. “Jack, Danny, and I were hanging out in the fields. We were up in an oak tree, watching the clouds as we talked. Then, we saw the smoke. We went to check it out.” Rooney still remembers the tree bark scraping against their palms, barely registering the sting as they fling themself from the tree. “We met Mom at the edge of the field. She handed me a pistol and told me to protect Jack and Danny. The last thing she ever told me was for us to hide and for me to be brave.” ROONEY, TAKE THEM AND HIDE. BE BRAVE FOR ME. The last time Rooney sees their mom is with her back turned to the three as she charges into town, red ponytail with strands of gray swinging in the wind. The pistol is heavy in Rooney’s hands, the full burden of responsibility weighing down on them. “Do you ever feel like you have to protect Hanako?”

“Yes. As children, Hanako and I were close. We only had each other, and I knew I needed to be there for her. I would protect her from any trouble. Even now, as adults, despite our distance, I still want to protect her, free her from my father’s influence. Hanako should be allowed to determine her own path, not a puppet of my father.” Yorinobu takes a sip of his whiskey, conflicting emotions on his face. “Now, Hanako feels she must protect me by playing mediator. In her eyes, all would be right if I became the son my father wanted me to be. If I were to be someone else.”

“You shouldn’t be,” He raises an eyebrow as they awkwardly clarify, “You shouldn’t have to be someone else. I like you as you are.” Yorinobu looks taken aback as they backpedal, “I mean-.”

“Shepard, I understand,” Yorinobu replies cutting them off, “I like you as you are too.”

“Thank you.” Another question comes to them. “What about Kei?” In all their time at the facility, Rooney heard about Kei the least. Possibly because he had been dead since 2023. But they wondered about Yorinobu and his relationship.

“Kei and I were not close. As children, Hanako and I rarely saw him, a distant figure in both our lives. Kei always thought of himself as the dutiful older son, the protector of Arasaka’s legacy. When I left,” Yorinobu’s voice turns bitter, “He saw it as his responsibility to strike me down for daring to defy the family, for not falling into line. Kei paid the ultimate price for his foolishness. I stand, still alive, while he is dead.”   

“I’m sorry.”

Yorinobu shakes his head. “It is not your fault. One day, my father will pay for Kei’s death. Continue.”

“I suggested that we should hide. There was a storm shelter beneath the farmhouse where no one would be able to find us. But-.” I CAN’T LEAVE MY MOM AND DAD. WE HAVE TO FIND THEM. They remember how terrified Danny looked, a sixteen-year-old who just wanted his parents. “Danny wanted us to find his parents. He wouldn’t listen to me or Jack.” Danny’s glare is fierce, and he is defiant at Rooney’s suggestion. He storms away with Jack quickly following behind as he tries to calm Danny. “He couldn’t be stopped.” Rooney finishes their glass, reaching out for the bottle of whiskey, and pouring another.

“So, we head to town.” The moment the three teenagers reach town, they all look at each other, knowing they’ve fucked up. Rooney remembers the thick smell of smoke and dead bodies, nearly choking on it. They hold the pistol with the safety off, ready to fire like their mom taught them to. Yet, at the thought of shooting a real person, Rooney’s hands shake, the pistol wobbling. “Danny thought we needed to head to the center of town.” COME ON, MY PARENTS SHOULD BE AT THE CITY HALL. “I try to argue with him, but he takes off running and rounds the corner. And then, I hear it.”

Yorinobu’s mouth drops in horror as a sick feeling rises in their stomach. The gunshots echo in their ears, deafening, as Rooney sprints towards the alley. Danny is on the ground, red pooling beneath him as a bandit stands over him. Rooney raises the pistol, pulling the trigger. The first shot hits the bandit’s shoulder. The second one hits him in the chest. Later, when Rooney learns to shoot a sniper rifle in the militia, they promise to never miss, to always make sure that their bullet hits the target. They will not let another innocent pay with their life. Rooney sips their glass, before continuing, “Jack and I grab Danny,” Danny’s green t-shirt is soaked in blood, only groaning as the two pull him off the ground, “The local town doctor is only two blocks away. If anyone can help Danny, it’s her.” It is only later that Rooney will find out that this was a fool’s errand, that the local doctor is already dead.

“Jack and I manage to get Danny to the clinic. We think we’ve made it, that the three of us are going to be safe.” It feels like a journey of a thousand miles, but relief washes over Rooney as the clinic door slides open. They’re safe; Jack, Danny, and Rooney are going to make it. HEY! Rooney turns as a Bandit turns to face them, raising his rifle at the trio. “As we enter the clinic, another bandit finds us.” Rooney raises the gun, preparing to fire. Jack, blue eyes wide, shoves Rooney and Danny through the doorway. JACK! Shots ring out, deafening as Rooney screams, a desperate plea for someone, anyone, to help. Jack slumps to the ground as Rooney lets Danny go. They raise their pistol, flicking the safety off as they unload the pistol. Rooney empties the pistol into the bandit, each shot ringing loudly in their ears. When the pistol finally clicks empty, long after the bandit has fallen to the ground, Rooney drops it, the pistol clattering loudly to the ground. “He shoots Jack. I’m able to stop the bandit, but it’s already too late.”

“I grab Jack and Danny, dragging them into the clinic. I find an empty room, somewhere we can hide.” Grabbing Jack and Danny, Rooney pulls them into the clinic, a herculean effort fueled by pure adrenaline. They find an empty room, hiding with Jack and Danny in a dark corner. Danny’s eyes are unfocused, his mouth slightly open. Rooney doesn’t need to feel his pulse to know that he is dead. They turn to Jack, who reaches out for his older sibling. “Jack grabs onto me. I beg for him to let me go, but all he wants is his older sibling. His grip loosens…” He wraps his arms around Rooney’s neck tightly, clinging to them as he bleeds out in their arms. Rooney holds him, alternating between telling Jack that they love him (JACK, I LOVE YOU! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!) and begging him to let go so they can help him (YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO! I’LL BE RIGHT BACK WITH HELP!).  Eventually, his grip loosens, Rooney silently sobbing as their brother dies. In the Unification War, when they hold dying young men, trying to comfort them in their last moments, they will always remind Rooney of Jack. They will always be Jack, terrified in their final moments, begging for some sort of comfort, that everything will be okay. “And my brother is dead.”

Tears stream down their face as Rooney grips their whiskey tightly. “I hide in the clinic for what seems like an eternity.” They wait until the screaming dies down, and even then, Rooney doesn’t leave, afraid the bandits will be waiting for them. After the screaming has been dead for a long time, Rooney makes their way out of the clinic, looking upon the destruction of their town.  Every corpse is a familiar face, someone they’ve known their whole life. “Eventually, Nomads, who regularly traded with us and did odd jobs for Biotechnica, pass by, and…” Well, the rest is history.

“Rooney, I’m-I’m so sorry…” Yorinobu seems to be at a loss for words, unsurprising. No one ever seems to know what to say, and Rooney can’t blame them.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” They finish off the glass, pouring themself another. Yorinobu tilts his head in confusion, perhaps concerned by their harsh, detached tone. “It’s the bandits fault for destroying my town. It’s my fault that Jack and Danny are dead, that I couldn’t protect them.”

Yorinobu sits straight up, removing his hand from their shoulder. Rooney misses his touch, a sole comfort, perhaps more than they deserve. He places his glass down on the table. Yorinobu grabs their glass, placing it down beside his. Rooney doesn’t fight him, unable to look at him, only looking down at their hands. Yorinobu takes their hands in his, his touch desperate. “You cannot blame yourself. You were sixteen.”             

“I can blame myself,” They look at him, meeting his eyes, “It was my job to protect Jack. He’s my younger brother. He needed me, and I failed him. Danny, too.” After their town, Rooney swore that they would protect others from suffering the same fate.

He looks slightly horrified, and Rooney wonders if he is thinking of himself and Hanako, perhaps seeing a mirror image of Jack in Hanako. Yorinobu releases their hands, only to cup their face, wiping away the tears. “It was not your fault.” He stresses every word, like a general giving a command to a stubborn soldier. On some level, Rooney knows this is irrational. Their psych in the militia, a no-nonsense woman whom Rooney felt safe talking to, used to tell them the same thing. So did their fellow soldiers in their support group. But Rooney couldn’t let it go, not when it had driven them their whole life. Not when their family had rejected them for it. Their tears fall faster, a sob escaping from them as Yorinobu’s eyes widen in surprise. “Something else troubles you.”

“Yeah.”

“Please tell me.”

“Remember our first conversation, when I told you to leave something alone?”

Confusion briefly crosses his face before the realization dawns. “You looked upset when I asked,” They hear a touch of concern in his voice, “Did it involve your family?”

“Yes,” the vision of their family around the dining room table is startlingly clear in their mind, “I saw my family.”

“You…saw them?”

“Don’t know what it was. Might have been a hallucination; might have been my mind playing a trick on me, but I saw them.” Rooney’s voice trembles, “I got to go home, see them all again, and they...they…” Their throat tightens, the words too difficult to speak. “They wouldn’t let me stay.”

“Rooney,” Yorinobu exhales their name, distraught as he wipes away more tears.

“I failed to protect Jack and Danny, and I wasn’t allowed to come home,” Rooney swallows back a sob, “I wasn’t good enough so I couldn’t stay.”

Yorinobu lets go of their face, pulling Rooney into his lap. They straddle his waist, trying to openly sob as they lay their hands on his chest. “Rooney,” His right hand lays on the back of their neck, “You did not fail. You were sixteen. No one could have asked more of you.” Rooney doesn’t believe him; they don’t know if they ever will. This guilt will gnaw at Rooney for the rest of their life until they take their final breath. If Rooney is ever allowed to take one. “Believe me,” Yorinobu pleads sincerely, “Please.”

Yorinobu’s earnestness cracks the stone walls around their heart. They collapse into his chest, burying their face in the crook of his neck. Rooney tightly grips the fabric of his black and magenta silk shirt, holding onto him like an overboard passenger holds onto a raft, adrift in the ocean. A sob escapes them, and Yorinobu’s hand comes to their back, rubbing circles in the black fabric of their tank top. His other hand rests on their thigh, thumb stroking along the seam of the black fabric. “If you need to, cry.”

They can’t fully break down, not for a lack of trying. Instead, Rooney holds him tightly, crying softly as Yorinobu comforts them. His voice is soothing, a tether to reality for them.

—

Eventually, Rooney finds they have no more tears left to cry. They’re exhausted, worn down to the bone. “Thank you.” Their voice feels raw and scratchy, their throat tight.

“Do you feel better?” He asks, watching them with concern. “Please be honest with me.”

Honesty is the least of what he deserves; Yorinobu deserves so much from them. “No,” They’re not sure if they will ever be okay, “I don’t know if I will be, but you being here….”

Yorinobu releases the breath he was holding. “Do you need-?”

They shake their head. “I just want to sleep.”

“Allow me to take you to your room.” Rooney gets up off his lap, untangling themself from Yorinobu. He follows them off the couch, slinging an arm around their shoulder.

They slide their arm around his waist, resting their head on his shoulder. Together, the pair walk silently down the Arasaka halls alone. Rooney feels a swell of affection towards him. There was no reason for him to be this kind to them, and yet…he was. Perhaps Rooney and Yorinobu were kindred souls, both alone in a hostile place looking for someone who would see them as they are.

When the pair reaches Rooney’s room, Yorinobu asks, “Will you be fine if you are left alone tonight?” Maybe. Rooney isn’t going to hurt themself, but the nightmares worry them. Sometimes, they relive the scenes over and over, a gruesome horror movie on repeat. Their silence is enough to answer his question. “I am staying.”

Rooney frowns. “You don’t need to stay.” They won’t be more of a burden on him.

“I want to stay with you,” Yorinobu opens the door, “Please let me.”

A small spark of humor arises in them. “I didn’t know you were eager to get into my bed.”

Yorinobu laughs, slightly surprised. “You must be feeling better.”

“Somewhat,” They smile at him shyly, “Thanks to you.”

He looks smug, clearly proud of himself. “To bed.”

A few minutes later, the duo crawl into bed with Rooney on the right and Yorinobu on the left. The tiny bed is meant for one person, but Rooney and Yorinobu make it work, spooning close together. Rooney’s metal arm wraps around his chest, Yorinobu’s hand resting on top of their hand. They are pressed tight against his back, cuddling him. “Are you comfortable?” He asks, his tone a little unsure. “Would you prefer I hold you?”

“No. I feel better holding you, unless you want to change positions.”

“I like this,” Yorinobu replies softly, his voice sending a warm and tingly feeling through them.

“Good.” The darkness and silence of the room descend upon them. A short while later, as they doze off, Rooney hears a soft snore from Yorinobu. They bite back a soft laugh, striking them as slightly cute. Rooney whispers, careful not to wake him, “Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you today. It’s the first time I haven’t felt alone on this day. I don’t know if I can ever return the favor.” They pause briefly. “But I promise I will try to be there for you in any way you need me to be.”

Closing their eyes, Rooney allows themself to fall asleep, comfortable and safe with Yorinobu in their arms.

[elvenbeard]

Not Yet

Just a random little scene that might wanna still write out in full in the future. Angst, what angst? I would never...

100% blame @humberg for the wonderful upcoming poses fueling me with angsty thoughts and scenarios 💜

[vampireloverz]

you're not a ghost, you're in my head

pairing: johnny silverhand x fem! reader

words: 3.8k

cw/tw: reader is technically v but is not referred to as “v”, reader has a specific canon tattoo and pubic hair, canon typical slang, canon typical cigarette use by johnny, fingering with a metal hand (f → receiving), unprotected sex, light scent/armpit kink, light angst, cyberpunk 2077 spoilers

— “Johnny, the fuck do you think y—“

“Relax, kid,” his voice comes out in a gritty rumble by your ear as his fingers come down to replace yours on your clit, “You and I are just gonna have a little fun.” —

"Pleasure doin’ biz with you,” you shake hands with your client as they deposit eddies into your account, a nice little bonus on top of your usual fee for a job well done.

“Get us the fuck outta here,” Johnny says as you check your phone for Wakako’s message, you can feel his impatience tug at your brain, “I’ve had enough running around for today.”

If you’re tired imagine how I feel, asshole, you think, and he just gives a single dry chuckle in response. 

As you walk the blocks back to your apartment, you think about the past months since your life has turned upside down and, as hard as you fight it, you think about Johnny.

Being alone is a luxury you used to take for granted, something you used to actively run from, but now you haven’t been alone in a long while. Never really, truly by yourself. At first, it left you irritable, quick to anger, but now you’re left trying to pinpoint exactly when frustration turned to camaraderie. And, from there, into genuine friendship. For now, Johnny’s really all you have. 

You don't want to rely on other people too heavily— your clock is ticking and you’d rather not hurt anyone if you have to go down. Misty and Vik being involved already weighs on your conscience. It’s easier to push everyone else away, keeping them at arm’s length to shield them, that’s what you keep telling yourself. But Johnny… you can’t do that with him. You’re on death’s row together, hand in silver hand.

That doesn’t mean you don’t get lonely or wish you had someone to hold you and warm your bed every once in a while, and you’re beginning to feel the effects. Your shots are getting sloppy, joytoys are starting to catch your eye every now and again— especially when they have dark hair and sunglasses— and it’s infuriating. Sure, you could buy some company for the night, scratch the itch, but it’s the same issue as getting yourself off— having Johnny be your peeping Tom.

Johnny has to be onto you, you know he sees everything through your eyes, he feels everything you feel. It would be easier to hide how you feel from your own damn self. It’s Johnny, Johnny, Johnny on an endless loop. His opinions on anything, everything, and, despite your best efforts, you’ve grown fond of him. The attraction has always been there, but now there’s… an ache, too. More than just the urge to fuck him. You’re doing your best to ignore it.

“Hey, baby,” a pretty joytoy calls out to you as you walk past. You notice Johnny’s choice brand of cigarette dangling precariously from between their fingers, then you hate yourself for noticing, “You look like you could use a massage, relax a little.”

You shake your head and ignore the urge to say yes, please. What comes out instead is: “No, thanks.”

The joytoy shrugs, a tempting smile on their lips as they knock ash from their cigarette, “Your loss.”

The sun is setting, the streets become bathed in pools of warm, natural sunlight and blinding neon signs blinking on for the night. You shove your hands in your jacket pockets, painfully aware that it’s Johnny’s jacket. It’s not his, not really, but the replica is good quality, it even had him fooled for a minute. Each time you put it on, your brain reminds you of that old school movie where a college girl wears her boyfriend’s varsity jacket, this morning had been no different. You just hope Johnny hasn’t seen that.

You know he doesn’t peek around every single corner of your brain, since becoming friends he allows you some privacy, as much as he can. But if your thoughts get loud enough you can’t hold them back. And lately, they have been loud. Half of this sexual frustration is because you haven’t gotten off in a while, sure, but the other half is your brain and body yearning for the one thing you can’t have. 

You can feel yourself scowling, still in disbelief that you’re craving a digital construct while simultaneously uncaring that he’s quite literally all in your head, so you actively make the effort to relax your face and body as you reach your megabuilding’s elevator. Once you’re in your apartment, it's easy to distract yourself with a simple routine for the night; lukewarm shower, hastily thrown together dinner, and you’re tucked into your bed in no time.

You leave your blinds open since you like to observe the way Night City wakes up as you’re about to sleep. The traffic, the nonstop chatter from neighbors and people on the street, lights from garish, oversized billboards— you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t miss it. You shut your eyes and listen, focusing on taking deep, even breaths. A minute passes. Then two, then ten, then you lose count, slipping into sleep. 

You wake with a start at the sound of people laughing outside your door and realize your sheets are tangled and damp with sweat between your legs. You were dreaming— a warm mouth on your cunt, your orgasm so close you could almost taste it— but the dream and its pleasure fade from you quickly only to leave you sleepless and frustrated all over again. You squeeze your thighs together and roll onto your side, staring at the empty couch across the room.

A fraying end of your sheet catches your eye, you make a mental note to patch it up as you fiddle with it. The border of the sheet only gets worse but you keep curling threads around your finger before unraveling it again and again. It doesn’t help you find sleep or alleviate the ache between your legs so you decide to give the poor fabric a rest and give in to what you need.

 Your voice is thick and raspy with sleep, “Johnny, you there?”

A familiar glitching sound fills your ears as he appears across the room, lounging on your couch with one leg on your coffee table, “As if I got anywhere else to be.”

You can’t tell if he’s actually looking at you behind his sunglasses, “Do me a favor. Can you leave for a bit?”

Johnny doesn’t answer, his fingers just tap rhythmically beside his leg.

“Come on,” you groan, just about one step away from begging, “I don’t wanna have to take those pills. Just give me thirty minutes. An hour, maybe.”

He raises one brow and pulls a cigarette from his pocket, “You got plans tonight?” he asks as he lights it. The fire glints off his silver hand for a brief moment before he takes a drag, holding it for a moment before breathing out.

Your clit throbs as you see a flash of his tongue, “Listen, a girl just wants her me time. Just delta the fuck outta here for a while. Hang out in my memories or something.”

Another deep drag off his cigarette, you can almost hear him roll his eyes but he disappears without any protest.

“Preem,” you sigh, voice shaking slightly as you roll onto your back. 

You wait a minute or two before you get to work, trying your hardest to remember your pleasant dream as you trail your hands over your body. You slip your hands under your sleep shirt and palm your tits, squeezing them once and idly wondering what Johnny’s metal would feel like on your skin. The thought alone makes your pussy clench, you can feel how soaked you are against your pajama shorts before you reach down and touch yourself.

Once your hand is past the waistband of your shorts, you waste no time in gathering your wetness on your fingers and circling your clit, hasty and impatient. The minutes roll by and you can’t seem to pass over the plateau, each second without orgasm only makes your frustration grow. You roll onto your side, curling one arm under your pillow to support your head as you try to keep your fantasies away from appearing as Johnny, but nothing seems good enough.

“Damn it,” you groan into your pillow, your voice bleeds into a long, wordless whine.

Your body trembles with frustration as you try and decide whether or not to keep going, if it’s even worth it if you’re going to be left unsatisfied. Right as you’re contemplating firing up a BD, you feel weight pressed against your back— Johnny. You almost jump out of your skin and a wash of heat crawls up your neck and into your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin.

“Johnny, the fuck do you think y—“

His hand curls over yours between your legs— the sensation of him touching you is still trippy but you’ve given up trying to figure out how you can feel him touch you long ago— and you bite your tongue to hold back a pleased sound.

“Relax, kid,” his voice comes out in a gritty rumble by your ear as his fingers come down to replace yours on your clit, “You and I are just gonna have a little fun.”

Your brain short circuits as Johnny starts to draw slow, lazy circles around your clit. His whole body is pressed to yours, leaving no space untouched. All you can think to do is grab his forearm and let out a sigh, trying to hold back a full body shiver, “T–Thought I told you to fuck off.”

Johnny chuckles and trails his touch down to where you’re slick and aching, “Something tells me you’re not too upset.”

Your hips roll forward unbidden, chasing the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long. It feels much better to have Johnny’s fingers on you instead of yours, you can feel the immediate effect he has on your body.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” his words are almost a laugh of surprise as he suddenly rocks his hips forward. 

“Oh,” you groan, pushing your ass back into him, trying to feel how hard he is for you.

You know this isn’t really happening, it’s some trick your brain has cooked up trying to let two simultaneous desires play out. Synapses misfiring, neurons receiving signals that aren't really there. You know Johnny isn’t actually pressed beside you but you don’t care. You can feel him, in your mind and on your body. The cool metal of his fingers is warming against your tits, the quiet hum of his thoughts and desires is buzzing around your head and he’s realer than anything you’ve felt before.

“Get these off,” Johnny impatiently tugs at your pajama shorts until you kick them off. He wastes no time in getting his hands all over you, palming your ass before pulling you against him.

You twist back as much as you can without straining yourself, “Kiss me.”

He scoffs with a touch of humor, “Needy,” but indulges you. 

The first press of your lips together is a little rough. The angle is not quite right, his beard scrapes your cheeks and chin, but it’s still him, so you enjoy it all the same. You press your tongue to his bottom lip, still half expecting to touch air and not Johnny, and he reciprocates in kind. His mouth is warm and wet against you, more real and perfect than anything you’ve felt before, he groans into your pliant mouth and the sound goes right to your clit— it’s a damn good kiss.

The hand that isn’t between your legs comes up to curl around your throat, using the lightest of force to keep you in place, close to him. Another pass of his tongue on yours and he’s pulling back, a drawn out groan falls from his lips when he ruts against your ass.

“Fuck,” he sighs against your lips before he moves, turning you over onto your back as he takes up the space between your legs.

Johnny’s back on you again in a instant, his hand returning to rest heavy and grounding on your neck, his thumb rubbing up and down against your jaw as he presses his lips to yours again. You reach your hands up to tangle in his hair and tug, smiling against Johnny’s lips when he makes a gruff, pleased noise in response.

You pull him back by his hair and tug at the collar of his bulletproof vest, cursing when it doesn’t budge, “Take this stupid thing off.”

Johnny lets out a little laugh and pulls back, resting on his knees between your legs, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

You roll your eyes and take off your shirt, tossing it to the side without a care. By the time you have your eyes back on Johnny, he’s naked too. He gives you a little smile and you take the opportunity to flip positions, pulling him down to the bed before you straddle him. He raises his eyebrows when you take his wrists in your hand. You don’t explain yourself as you push his arms above his head and into the pillows.

“Keep ‘em there,” you order, giving him a little smile before you let his wrists go.

You sit back, ignoring his cock pressing hot and insistent between your legs as you take him in, your hands greedily groping his chest. He makes a noise of approval when you start to trail your lips along his tattoos, kissing every so often until you reach his armpit. You trail your thumb through the dark hair there before you keep kissing downward, undeterred. You feel his breath hitch as you breathe in, cigarettes and the deep scent of sweat. It’s intoxicating enough to make you want to press your luck a little more. You close your eyes, kissing the underside of his arm again before you let your tongue peek out and touch skin, daring to take a lick of him. Johnny twitches and lets out an exhale through his nose, his arm almost shaking with the effort to keep still.

You hum, amused, “Ticklish?”

“Alright,” Johnny grumbles, moving to grab you by the waist, “You’ve had your fun.”

He flips you back to how you were originally, tossing you back onto your back hard enough to make you laugh and bounce once on the bed. He curls over you, his hands flex on your sides as he kisses you.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, his flesh hand soft as it moves to span over your stomach.

The comment sets you squirming, turning your face to the side with a harsh little sound bubbling up from your chest. You shut your eyes and feel embarrassment prickle up your spine.

“No,” he takes your face in his hand, grips your jaw with purpose and turns to face him, “Look at me so I know you heard me.”

You blink them open, a hint of a scowl on your face as you prepare to tell him to knock it off but his cocky smile stops you. You swallow thickly, a heat crawls its way up your neck onto your face.

“See? Fuckin’ beautiful.”

You try to turn away, your cheeks now hot with embarrassment, but his hand keeps you in place. His eyes flick down to your lips as you laugh, “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.”

He makes a noise, low and deep in his chest, and finally relents, letting your face go with a quiet little tut. Johnny pulls back slightly, just enough space to trail his metal fingers down, pausing a moment to feel the hair between your legs. He turns his wrist to let his thumb part your folds and find your clit.

“Careful with that thing,” you say, your voice touched with nervous, excited laughter.

“Always am.”

Johnny pushes two fingers into your pussy, pumping them a few times until you relax, your slick makes the metal shine. He leans forward, pressing a kiss between your tits before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks for a moment then breaks away, kissing a trail over your chest to your other nipple, biting it gently this time.

Soon enough, he stops, pulls back. You watch him take his cock in hand, your arousal glinting along metal as he spreads it over himself. He thumbs the head of his cock, the sight of him mixing his precum with you makes you dizzy, before he grips himself at the base, his silver hand accented by dark curls. Johnny angles himself downward, teasing you with just the tip again and again until you whine.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” he hums, using his human hand to hold himself above you.

“Y-Yea— fuck, yes,” your hands curl around his biceps, impatience makes you dig your nails in.

“Fuck,” Johnny’s voice trembles ever so slightly as he says your name, “C’mere then.”

He presses his cock into you and, after a moment, pushes inside steadily with a groan. You only make a noise of complaint when he stops, hips pressed flush against yours and his cock knocking something tender inside you.

“Johnny, ‘m good,” you gasp, thinking he’s stopped for your sake. He doesn’t move so you tilt your head to the side to bite at his wrist. It’s not enough to hurt him for real, but you soothe it with a kiss anyway, “C’mon, fuck me.”

He nods and only holds still for a moment longer, moving his arms to rest on his elbows on either side of your head. Johnny fucks exactly like you thought he would. Steady and hard, like he means it— he fucks you like he’s proving a point. Every thrust has his balls slap heavy against your ass, a firm, staccato rhythm that has you close to keening. He can feel exactly what you need, no guesswork or faking it when he’s in your head, and you can tell he’s loving it. 

You wrap your arms around him, needing to feel him close since you’re not sure how long this’ll last. Johnny presses more of his weight into you when he senses what you’re feeling and your legs almost ache with how far they’re pushed apart, one of his hands comes to cup your cheek, turning your face to his. Even with your eyes shut it’s easy to find his lips, soft amidst the bristle of his beard as he keeps up his pace. He lays into you like he means it, like he’s trying to convince you he’s real and here to stay. Like he’s trying to convince himself.

“You feel good, baby,” Johnny moans, his lips still close enough to brush against yours, “So fuckin’ good. I wanna feel you cum, need to feel it.”

You whimper, taking one arm down to tap his side and pant, “Here— let me just—” Johnny nods and moves, giving you room to snake your hand down to rub your clit in frantic, rough little circles, desperate to cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Johnny murmurs encouragingly, “That’s it.”

“Johnny,” you sigh, your voice warbling as you feel yourself getting close, climbing and climbing until you’re pushed over the edge. You cum holding your breath, your fingers still working your clit until the sensation is too much and you have to pull away and give in to the pleasure. You let out a shuddering groan as you feel your cunt clench around Johnny’s cock, pulsing enough to make your whole body twitch.

His rhythm falters, hips stilling as he presses himself can as close to you as possible, as deep as possible. You feel him fill you, and really, truly, you would swear on your life that it genuinely happened. You moan at the heat of him inside you before you catch yourself muttering praise into his ear, his lips pressing uncoordinated kisses to any part of you he can reach.

Johnny’s head falls to your shoulder as you both catch your breath, neither of you making any moves to pull apart from each other. It’s almost frightening how real this feels, as if he’s actually in your arms now, weighing you down into your mattress. You ignore how much you wish that were true and curl a lock of his hair around your finger before you tuck it behind his ear, trailing your touch down the back of his head. He makes an appreciative sound when you scratch gently at his scalp, so you keep doing so, soothing both him and yourself with the motions.

“There’s somethin’ I wanted to tell you,” he says after a while of laying together, nudging the hinge of your jaw with his nose.

“Yea?”

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” Johnny’s breath is hot against your skin as he chuckles, “Almost as much as you like wearin’ ‘em.”

“Shut up, Johnny,” you try to hide the laugh that shakes your voice by tugging on his hair, smiling when he gently bites you in retaliation. 

He takes your arm, holding you steady as he kisses the tattooed heart that holds his and your names. Johnny pulls away first and you make an involuntary, upset little noise as he pulls out of you, but he quickly kisses you quiet. The urge to smoke sneaks up on you, now a familiar feeling that comes from Johnny’s influence on you. You blink and he has one in hand, pulled out from whatever digitized place he gets them from.

“Get some sleep, kid,” Johnny murmurs around a cigarette, laying back and lighting it as your eyelids droop.

You let out a little hum, already half asleep, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You hope you get more of these opportunities, to feel him, be felt by him. Tears suddenly prick hot at your eyes, your throat tightens and you wonder how much of the grief you feel is you, how much is him, if the lines are too blurred now to even be able to tell. The hope, you think, might be both of you. It sits heavy with you, heavier than God as you theorize a way that you and Johnny may survive the separation.

“Hey, Johnny,” your voice no more than a whisper, “I wish we could’ve met some other way.”

Johnny takes a deep drag of his cigarette and you feel the ghost of the synth-tobacco burn in your throat. His gaze strays from the posters hung across the room, dark brown eyes trailing over the curve of your cheek and brows until he finds the courage to look you in the eye. His free hand reaches down to find your warm thigh and squeeze it, “Yea.” 

You hold back another sentimental thought, too intimate to be said aloud where it can become real, and eventually fall asleep watching the way the neon lights dance through glitching cigarette smoke. You don’t have to say it, Johnny can hear it anyway. He knows, and you know it too.

thank you so so much to @shibaraki for beta reading for me! youre the best 🤍🤍🤍

title is from forever by charli xcx

[mrssimply]

Hi!

Sorry to brother you with one of your old cyberpunk 2077 works, but I've been tortured by "what if" scenario. What if it was Kerry who died in "Until we meet again" world?

HELLO!

First of all, you're not bothering me AT ALL, I'm super happy you want to talk about that fiction. I've said it before, but I'll say it again, Until we Meet Again has a very special place in my heart, because it's not only a work I'm proud of, it was also a friendship adventure!

But back on topic.

I really never thought about it before seeing your ask, and it really threw me in a loop. I really came up blank at first, like it was just impossible.

Also, a funny thing is that @koda-shoulda-woulda-but-didnt and I were talking about a similar scenario he had for a story a few weeks before your ask, so my first move was to send him that with "maybe you should answer it xD".

No that I've thought about it a little bit more (sorry for the delay), here is what I can say.

[Spoiler for the fic, obviously, so I put everything under the cut just in case]

What makes the situation in the original fic particularly tragic, is that V is the cog that finally makes it work between Johnny and Kerry. Him dying also means the end of that (which is why Johnny end up nearly killing Kerry out of grief). Any other member of the trouple dying would've been a better outcome (I know it sounds harsh like that) simply because V is the only one in that trio who know how to articulate emotions and deal with them. The other two are too emotionally immature to get by by themselves. They deal with grief by turning it into violence against themselves, against each other, against the world.

V being alive means he would've been here to help Johnny through his grief. I think in that case, despite the process still being pretty violent, Johnny would've come out better and more balanced. I think he might have taken a bigger leadership role into the revolution (in the fic, people think he and Kerry are the leaders but it's actually Rogue who is doing all the work, they're just here to fight and kill people and then they basically disapear, you won't even see them at the debrief). V being here to help him through the process would've had a similar result than what we see in game, he would be more tempered and less angry, he would try to do something positive for the world. But I also think he would become particularly paranoid about V coming to harm, so he would constantly be trying to stop him from going on dangerous jobs, and they would fight a lot about how, since V is the leader of their revolution, he shouldn't be on the field so much, he should send Johnny, Johnny is there for that, it doesn't matter if Johnny dies (You can imagine V's reaction to that particular argument).

Helping Johnny through his grief also means V doesn't have a lot of room to deal with his. V dealing with his grief would be pretty much invisible anyway, he would deal with it inwardly and silently. His mother would help him deal with it, but she would be the only one he would let in. I think it might even lead people to wonder if he was really attached to Kerry, if he seems to be doing so fine just a few months after. The truth is, he would probably be so worried and focused on Johnny he would "forget" to deal with his own emotions, and it would backfire at some point, probably months or even years later. The moment Johnny would show the first signs of being able to walk on his own, V would probably crumble, and he would totally try to hide it from Johnny, from fear it would worry him. Grief would make V close up on himself more, he would be really exhausted from it. He wouldn't grow cold, quiet the contrary, he would throw himself at the grief of others, help them through it because it's the only way he knows how to deal with his. But he would certainly become more... mysterious?

They would have that relationship where they try to protect the other so much they end up hurting themselves and the other. It would drive Rogue mad because they end up making decisions to try to protect the other from harm instead of beeing rational and seeing the big picture. She would totally learn how to play on that anyway because she ain't the Queen of Darnkess for nothing <3.

But I think in the end, he and Johnny would've broken up, probably in a weird way where they just drift silently appart, and don't talk about it and one day Johnny takes his stuff and moves out and V doesn't say anything about it so he thinks that's it, that's what he wanted. They both think that the other left because being together hurt too much. And they would be those weird exes that clearly still love each other, get jealous when the other is seeing someone else (but I'm not sure V would ever have any other relationship, but Johnny would absolutely have a string of meaningless flings he would parade in front of V just to get a reaction, and be disapointed when V seemingly doesn't care). Contrary to Johnny and Kerry in the original fic, they would'nt sleep with each other anymore (V's rule).

Now, another point is also how Kerry ended up on that mission, and I think it's pretty easy. He nearly did in the original fic, actually. The moment they get on the chopper, he regrets not going with them so it's easy to imagine he would decide to go at the last moment. I really think he had his gear ready, but he hid it from Johnny and V because he lept hesitating to go. He really wanted to get out of merc life, go back to music, but at the same time the mission looked pretty dangerous and he needed to be with them. During the mission, Johnny and he would fall back on their habit from the war, so Kerry would follow him in his mad taunting of Smasher, and Kerry would take the hits instead of Johnny. Also, V would totally be haunted by the idea he could've lost both, since they were standing so close. For a moment, he thought they were both dead, since Johnny still took some bullets too.

As for Kerry being brought back to life as a clone, Arasaka would follow basically the same idea as in the original fic. I just think it would work even less because Kerry is a LOT more feral than V, so he would've made a pretty bad bodyguard xD. So instead of that, they would've turned him into a starlet like the Us Crack. Getting him on stage and singing in front of thousands would've been the only way to keep him somewhat in line, and that way he also brought them money. His stage persona would be wearing a mask or a helmet to prevent people from reognize him. He would be a pop star, but couldn't help but lean into rock, and fight his creative team to push for more gritty sounds, like this band, Samurai? And the team would be like "oh no, Kerry-san, Samurai is super bad, lets focus on your collab with Us Cracks?" (he would've totally been working on a hard rock cover of their collab song with the girls in secret).

That's how Johnny and V finds him: they are to meet with Yorinobu in secret during the concert to get the relic, but Saburo learns about it, comes to the concert, cue chaos happens (everyone survives, including Jackie who was part of the team on site, of course). In the mayhem, V and Johnny end up fighting off Arasaka guards on stage, and by some Divine Intervention on the author's part, Kerry's helmet gets thrown off his face.

I think the key difference in that story would be that... Kerry was sorta happier in his rebirth as a clone: he gets to be on stage, to sing, be heard and admired, it's bascally what he wanted. He also gets pampered from the starts (since they're observing the long term consequences of cloning and using the relic, he's basically a diva), so he wouldn't know any of the hardships he knew in his past life. Sure, he gets the same feeling of missing a vital part of himself, but it just makes him a better musician, and he probably thought it was part of being born to create music.

Meeting Johnny and V is first a rush of joy when part of himself recognize his soulmates, but the more he learns about them, about who their are, what they're doing, and who he was before... The less enthusiastic he is about it. Johnny of course doesn't react well to that (what a surprise), because it's such a slap in the face to have Kerry reject and critisize the life he had, saying he was pretty much miserable from what they're telling him, and that he doesn't want it. Seeing his best friend, the one that was here from the begining, that saved him time and time again, dismiss their time in the war, their struggles, and their causes, being such a fucking bitch, he would hate it.

V, ever the respectful baby that he is, tries to give Kerry space, understand his perspective etc etc. But at the same time, the grief he burried deep inside of him is coming full force, and he's going to have to face it now. Kerry is actually a lot more interested by that, by this mad who seems so fucking sad, who has such pretty puppy eyes, and who treats him like he's divine, and yet it's so different from the worship he gets from fans. Kerry would actually want to make him feel better, because when he looks at V, he just wants to hold the man and cry.

Kerry and Johnny would probably reconcile through music (very original, I know), when Johnny discovers the cover Kerry and the Us Cracks were working on. It sounds like a Samurai song, and the lyrics that sounded so bland over a pop song actually resonate a lot more with heavy riffs behind. Suddenly, it's a revolutionary song.

The rest of the fic's events would probably happen the same way. I think Kerry would've about the same struggles to reconcile who is and what he was. Also, I imagine the conversation with Alt would be enlighning like "Oh yeah, Johnny loved me but even I wasn't such a fool I couldn't see he loved you more and was just afraid that saying it out loud would curse it and you would be taken away from him, and hey, look, he was right! Now, kiss your doppleganger so I can get back to destrying Mikoshi".

I think the story would end on V finally crying, finally talking about his own grief, finally being conforted by Johnny and Kerry.

There. I aswered. It was a wild ride actually, and a very interesting exercise. Thank you so, so much anon for asking about it. Allowing an author to talk about their stories is the best gift you can give them, and me in that occurence!!!

So really, thank you so much, whoever you are <3

[spellshite]

One minute of silence for the poor sod that stumbled upon those loosely connected scenes written like ass I posted to remove the "V the Fixer" fic idea from my brain.

[strigital]

outlining "Tapeworm" - which once upon a time was supposed to be a short fix-it fic - is hard and thirsty work (in both senses, hehe) so here are some spoilery memes to help me get this shit out of my system and also i really need a break (special shoutout to ChatGPT for explaining English to me like i'm five)

also yes if you can't tell i'm slightly going wild over the Black Dog story in Cyberpunk Red (how dare it derail my perfectly headcanonized plot!) because it's good stuff and i need to cram it's plot points into "Tapeworm" or else imma lose my mind

[ruvviks]

Of course Aubrey had heard of the Council before. I mean– who hadn’t? They didn’t necessarily rule the streets, or Night City’s underworld for that matter, but they sure as hell loved to rub their asses all over it at any given opportunity and never in his years of being a fixer himself had he felt the need to associate himself with any of them. He understood why it was necessary, sure– the agreements they made and the city-wide gang activity they monitored and reported to one another were a vital part of ensuring business stability as well as their own survival– but he knew the biz well enough to not trust the feigned kindness and so-called sense of community they supposedly aimed for. Everyone always had their own agenda. None of it was simply out of the kindness of their hearts, to ensure the safety of the innocent citizens of Night City– it would be naive of him to think so and by then he knew better than to let wishful thinking cloud his judgment.

taglist (opt in/out): @shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart, @vvanessaives, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman, @celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister, @dameaylin, @killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose

[bonesuh]

it's not valentine's day anymore but let me LIVE!!

[cp77nyexchange]

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