#with a matter of luck; santos

[bullet-prooflove]

Can you write “don't give up, it's a little complicated” with Bishop? 💖

"It's a little complicated." You tell Bishop that night as the two of you sit at the kitchen table. He sighs as he taps the ash off his cigarette into the ashtray that one of the kids made for him during summer school. Its sky blue and wonky with yellow stars painted on but he treasures the fucking thing.

"It's not that complicated." He informs you. "You go out in the middle of the night and help people coming over the wall."

Your head snaps up towards him and he gives you a look.

"Come on sweetheart." He says stubbing out his cigerette. "You think Riz can keep his mouth shut about something like that?"

"How long have you known?" You ask him, your fingertips tapping out a rhythm on the surface of the table.

"A while." He admits. "After what happened with Mari, I wanted to know more about you. How you had the connections to help her."

He leans forward on his elbows.

"The point is you don't have to lie to me anymore about what you do when you go out on those nights."

"You aren't going to try and stop me?" You query.

That's been your main fear, that Bishop will try and stop you from doing what matters to you.

Bishop laughs as he reaches out and takes your hand.

"I think I would have better luck trying to stop the sun from shining in the sky than preventing you from helping people in need." He tells you, his thumb ghosting over the line of your knuckles. "I actually have someone, someone that I think may be a good for the work you're doing. Her name is Rosa, she used to 'freelance'." He says the word pointedly so you catch his drift. "The M.C have used her alot in the past but her and Nestor are settling, she's putting down roots in Santo Padre, retiring from the life. I think the work you do would be good for her and I think she'll be good for you in terms of protection." He pauses for a minute, giving you a little time to process his words. "I know the Reed Coalition have been baring their teeth lately and I just want you to be safe and I think Rosa can help with that."

It's endearing in a way, your grizzled soldier looking out for you. Bishop is trying everything he can to not be overbearing, to provide a solution to a very realistic fear he has because he's right, the Reed Coalition have been becoming more aggressive and it is getting a lot more dangerous out by the wall. Having a mercenary on your side, someone whose seen action and can combat that would be invaluable.

"I'll need to meet her." You tell him.

He squeezes your hand tightly and you can see how much this means to him, that you're willing to make this concession.

"I'll set it up."

[dumbass-learns-japanese]

How are we doing this

So, I decided to learn Japanese again. How will I do that?

Well, one thing that needs to be noted is that I already used to learn Japanese, once a upon a time. I think I used to be N3 level, but it kind of all fell apart because:

a) My bachelor's and (first) master's degree used to be in Japanese studies, and when you are learning a language like that, you are rarely learning just the language. Chances are, you are also learning about the culture of the language, the society in which it is predominantly spoken, art, literature, history (boy, did we have a lot of history courses), geography (we actually had to remember each and every name of every region and prefecture AND we had to be able to draw a map of Japan and mark each region and prefecture). The point is, you have a lot of things to do that are NOT learning the language.

b) The pandemic and online classes. That is all I will say on this, You understand.

c) I was stressed with coursework and life to the point I could not sleep and it sucked.

I am not making excuses for myseld (well, maybe a bit), but the thing is, I needed a break. And that break lasted for about 2 and a half years. So yeah, your language skills kind of evaporate when you don't use the said language often. It helps when you have literally no one to practice it with too. Go figure.

SO, WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS?

The point of this is to say that I already have experience with Japanese language, meaning, I do not need to relearn hiragana and katakana because muscle memory. I also do not need to learn some basic phrases, like "good morning" or "I'm hungry". I also realized that I have some knowledge hiding in the mental basement of my mind that I just need to take out, blow the dust off and reactivate it.

Thus, I decided on the following approach.

Assume I don't remember anything and start from the top. The thing is, I don't know what I don't know until I come face to face with a specific word, grammar, kanji, whatever. We are going through everything, no matter how insignificant or simple it may seem.

Do not rely on apps alone. Phone is too accessible so it is tempting to assume I will just use one of the many designated apps whenever I have the time. I mean, I will, when I feel like it. But relying on just the apps and my impulse control (I've been kiiinda obsessed with NYT games, to the point of unhealthy) is not good enough.

Textbook, textbook, textbook. We used to use Minna no Nihongo in classes, but I decided I am a bit bored of Santos and the spoon and other peopel (if you used Minna no Nihongo, you know what I'm talking about. If you saw the video, extra points to you.), so I decided to try Genki. So far, so good. The tempo is a bit different, but I enjoy it.

As for the apps, we shall use the following (I have an Android, mind you): Akebi (for dictionary, very colorful, able to add words and kanji directly to Anki), Anki (flashcards, though I have been lazy with this one), Clozemaster (I like this one, has grammar explanations, game-like, colloquial Japanese, very nice), Hello Talk (when I get brave enough).

Practice listening. I have to start watching YT videos for this because when I just listen to music I get distracted by the vibes so I don't even try to figure out what the song is about.

That's it for now I guess. Have to get brave enough to try speaking/texting in Japanese, and practice listening. Reading is so far good, writing too, I am pretty confident I could pass N5 test, but let's finish Genki textbooks first, just so I can say I actually know something, that I'm not just guessing and getting lucky.

Good luck to me.

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

GOOOD MORNING NIGHT CITY! | Cyberpunk Edgerunners x Male Reader

This is also on my Wattpad and Quotev! Enjoy!

Description: My Final Destination

Chapter 1: GOOOD MORNING NIGHT CITY! | You are Here

Chapter 2: Yesterday's body count lottery rounded out to a solid 'n' sturdy thirty! | TBW

Chapter 3: Ten outta Heywood - thanks to the unabated gang wars! | TBW

Chapter 4: One officer down, so I guess you are all screwed. | TBW

Chapter 5: 'Cause the NCPD will not let that go. | TBW

Chapter 6: Got another blackout in Santo Domingo. | TBW

Chapter 7: Netrunners are at it again, pokin' holes in the power grid. | TBW

Chapter 8: In Westbrook, Trauma Team's scrapin' cyberpsycho victims off the pavement. | TBW

Chapter 9: And in Pacifica... Well... Pacifica is still Pacifica. | TBW

Chapter 10: This has been your man, Stan. Join me in another day in our City of Dreams! | TBW

Chapter 11: Cause I really Wanna Stay at Your House | TBW

Night city. Colorful. Neon lights everywhere you looked. But that's not what makes Night City. Not by a long shot. What makes it, are the people. 

Everyone around knows the hardships and the importance of a group. Be it a gang or friends. Doesn't matter. Find your found family and your set. 

Another thing that Night City is known for is its chromed out citizens. It's not for everyone, but those that can handle the consequences get all kinds of body mods. From new eyes to even iron lungs. This isn't for the faint-hearted. 

Especially the cyber psychos that show the dangers of what it does to your body. No one wants to die like that, but they do. Either from police, trauma team, or themselves. 

Night City also houses many legends amongst its streets. Legends that give hope for a better life. One without the slums and the corpo assholes that control everything. Everyone wants a taste of that high life.

But that high life doesn’t sit well once you have it. Legends have to die at some point. That��s how they become legends. Remembered forever amongst the next generation until another rises up and makes a bigger name. 

Among those very streets was a boy. He wasn't new to the troubles in the city. They were very clear to him. Didn't help with his background.

Corpo kid, Arasaka Academy Prodigy now drop out. There was a story. A story lost to the guns and crimes. Crimes he needed to commit to live. To survive.

No one could pry out his past from his lips. It was one of those open secrets. Details, not something anyone cared about. As long as you showed and completed your share of work, no one asked. 

He didn't mind. Made it easier to hide. Easier to run. Especially made it easier to work.

Being a merc was freeing. You were respected, feared even but there was power in it. Power that everyone craved. And he ran with the best. 

Edgerunners. Maine, Dorio, Sasha, Pilar, Rebecca, and Falco. The origins of them anyway. 

After a mission gone wrong, or rather a change of targets, Sasha died. Was it a noble death? Well the news she leaked was everywhere the next day, so maybe. 

Didn't make the hurt go away. Not for Y/n.

That's right. The aforementioned boy. His name was Y/n. But names don't matter. Most called him N/n anyway. Better handle. Didn't have the weight of the memories. 

Back to the edgerunners. Kiwi replaced Sasha. She was a good net runner, nothing compared to Y/n though. Rarely did he ever do runs but when he did, flawless didn't begin to cut it. 

Never does net running much. Reminds him too much of a past that he wanted to escape. That’s why he chose to be with Maine. Was like a father to him. Better than his actual dad. The edgerunners were a better family to him overall. 

His past is blurry to most, likes to keep it that way. No one in night city needs to know about it. Needs to know of his corpo connections and give him shit for it. That was. Until Kiwi brought Lucy

Lucy was Y/n’s saving grace. For some reason and miraculous luck, Y/n became Lucy’s best friend. Much like a lapdog to Lucy. It was an even more shock that she didn’t push him away. 

She knew Y/n way before. His records were in the Arasaka archives. Part of their big experiment to make the perfect weapon of net runner and muscle. Who else could take on the old net? Project was a bust though when Y/n ran away. Away from the pain and abuse that the person who was supposed to love him the most inflicted. 

Y/n decided to live with Lucy. Maine thought it was a good way to keep an eye on the newbie and gave Y/n a friend around his age. Thinking like a father. A father who cared. 

Over time Y/n and Lucy became like siblings. Opening up to each other was a huge feat in itself. In a place like Night City, that kind of trust is rare. Not like the other would spill it. Similar situations. Similar Traumas. Similar people being after them.  

That’s when the two started going on missions together. Y/n being the stubborn ass he is refused to ever go on missions alone. Not unless Lucy was there with him. The codependency. 

“God damn it Y/n! Why do you need Lucy for everything? Before she came you were independent. What changed?”

Maine only ever asked once. He regretted it. Never once did he see Y/n break down like he did after Maine yelled at him. He didn’t apologize though. It needed to be said. 

“I… I need her okay? Things are different now. She’s like me…”

Maine only sighed. Desperation. Rare, especially in a boy like Y/n. He understood though. Nothing more was said. Only a pat on a head and silence. 

Y/n never stopped being clingy with Lucy, but it got better. Just a tad. Y/n was able to go on his own missions. Though it was out of fear of disappointing everyone else. He couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t handle their rejection. 

A year was all it took for Y/n and Lucy to become inseparable. It was concerning how connected the two became. You don’t get that kind of connection here. Not without tragedy. 

“I want to go to the moon.”

Lucy shared one night. The two were on a roof together. Artificial pizza was placed between them. 

“The moon? Why? There’s not much up there.” 

Lucy didn’t respond. She couldn’t explain it to him. She couldn’t tell Y/n how she wanted to leave. It would break his heart. But what are broken hearts if your dreams get shattered? Emotions were useless in this world. Being soft gets you nowhere. 

“Come with me.”

A compromise. If she couldn’t tell him why then at least she can show him. She can take him with her. Protecting him from Night City and everyone else around them. Only a pipe dream.

“Huh?”

Y/n was more than caught off guard by the sudden invitation. Was it even one? By the sounds of it, it sounded more like desperation. Lucy never showed desperation 

“When we get enough, come to the moon with me.”

The thought further intrigued Y/n. He didn't understand this need. Was Lucy telling him she wanted him? She willingly wanted him around?

“Okay. I make it my promise! We’ll go to the moon together! You can show me what’s so great about it!”

Lucy could only let out a light hearted scoff at Y/n's softness. This boy. He didn't know much about the world. How could he when he was so sheltered?

“I could show you now.”

“Really!?”

That excitement. Something that Lucy never could get used to. Y/n was a rare individual. Someone who showed his rare and raw emotions. 

“Yeah you gonk. BDs remember?” 

That night, the moment the two of them got home, they spent hours on the special moon BD Lucy had. It was amazing. Seeing something different, a place where corpos didn’t rule yet was refreshing. Going around the craters and the moon buggy, all of it was hope inducing. A world where no one can control you. 

As the year went on, Lucy and Y/n only ever became closer. The sibling duo among the group, apart from Pilar and Rebecca. Nothing could bring Y/n away from Lucy. Maine joked about him being Lucy’s guard dog. Whenever Pilar was weird with Lucy, Y/n was right behind, biting and clawing at the guy. 

Had to have the others break up the fight before Y/n actually killed Pilar. Rebecca couldn’t help laughing at her older brother’s demise. Deserved it anyway. Not shortly after did the group go to Afterlife for some drinks.  Lucy took this chance of inebriation to speak with Y/n privately.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Lucy’s threshold for annoyances was being pushed. Either Y/n was playing dumb or drank too much to even think properly. Either way she needed a clear answer. 

“Attack Pilar.”

“He was making you uncomfortable.”

“I could have taken care of it myself.”

Lucy huffed out a breath. She didn’t like being treated like she was helpless. Whether Y/n meant it or not, it was really troublesome and irritating. He hovered over her. She didn’t quite understand why. 

“I know…”

“Then why?”

The pause. It was deafening despite the music playing around them. 

“I… You’re so amazing and you gave me so much even with knowing me for a short time. You’re like my family Lucy. More so than Maine and Dorio and everyone else. You’re my sister. Someone who knows my struggles on a personal level. I owe you so much. I want to protect you.”

Eyes widened at the admission. God Y/n really was an idiot. 

“You don’t have to repay me for anything.”

“I do though.”

“You don’t!”

It was a cycle of ‘I dos’ and ‘don’ts’ until Y/n started to tear up. God did Lucy make him feel so vulnerable. ‘

“I do! Because if I don’t I’ll turn around and you won't be there anymore. One day I’ll wake up and you won’t be there. You don’t realize how much I need you in my life! I have no one else!”

Guilt. The god damn guilt. Y/n’s tears fought hard not to be released but it was a war lost. Gleaming droplets cascaded down Y/n’s cheeks, making the boy look like a child. No one could ever stay mad at him.

In this moment of vulnerability, Lucy wrapped her arms around Y/n. She decided against speaking. No more words needed to be shared. Y/n didn’t need to be upset further. Only Lucy saw these tears. Weakness didn’t need to be shared with peering eyes. 

A few more instances happen where Y/n went feral when something happened to Lucy. No one could ever stop him and neither did they really care. As long as the job got done then why did it matter?

It did help with disputes and fights. Y/n being the main muscle with Maine. Taking care of all the fist related business together. Now, no one was lacking in muscle within the crew but Y/n almost had Maine beat with the power of his punch. 

A few more months passed. Time never mastered though. Both Lucy and Y/n were out and about. They ended up in Corpo Plaza. A place Y/n never liked, not just because of the name but because of the people around and the worst building that stood tall. Arasaka Tower. If capitalism could be personified, it would be Arasaka Tower. 

The two had planned to do some odd jobs around the area, maybe pick some sockets or something. Anything to keep them busy and make money. Y/n stood with Lucy while she smoked. He never participated in it himself. The habit reminded him too much of someone. But when Lucy did it, he couldn’t help but want to be around. 

While Y/n’s eyes watched the smoke plume around the already suffocating atmosphere, he couldn’t help but see how much Lucy stood out. Compared to everyone else around them, Lucy could be seen from everywhere. It was the hair. 

Y/n blinked a few times. He thought he was tripping but he didn’t remember taking anything before. Lucy's hair sparkled. What was this?

He wasn’t the only one who noticed. 

Y/n’s eyes trailed over and noticed a boy looking at the back of Y/n’s head. He looked familiar. Y/n was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the voice that soothed him over and over. 

“What are you staring at?”

Y/n froze. Lips nursing as if he was caught doing something wrong. What made it more anxiety inducing was Lucy didn’t even look at Y/n. 

“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”

“You're a bad liar, Y/n.”

Y/n didn’t respond. He just glanced over to see the boy that had been staring was gone. 

“What are we doing here anyway?”

“We have a job to do. Maine wanted us to keep busy.”

Y/n the ever obedient personification of a puppy nodded along and followed Lucy. Doing everything he was told. An old habit. A habit hated himself for. He hated him for. 

The day was spent with the two of them working to bring in eddies. That night had a full moon, which led to Y/n dragging Lucy to the badlands to watch the moon. It was calm and quiet. Something that could be seen as off putting, but it wasn’t.

It was… nice.

“Why’d you bring me here?” “Wanted to look at the moon with you. It’s clearer out here. I found this spot when I was driving around with Maine.”

Lucy felt so happy that Y/n took her fascination with the moon seriously. Many would think it was stupid to want to go somewhere that failed. But it wasn’t that to Lcuy, and it certainly wasn’t to Y/n. 

Y/n would defend Lucy’s dreams till the day he died. And even then he would keep defending her. 

No more words were exchanged. Only silence and the distant sounds of cars every now and then on the dirt road.  Moments like these under the moonlight were never taken for granted. 

Here was where Y/n belonged. His purpose. His family.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[kitsantoss]

[Andre Lamoglia, Cis Man, He-They ] — whoa! Kit Santos just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 8 YEARS, working as a WRITER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 29 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit SNARKY and YAPPY , but I know them to be ENERGETIC and CHARMING. whatever. I guess I’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (Juicy, 21+, est, any, n/a)

tw: cancer, death

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Kit had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Kit was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Kit had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Kit couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Kit was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Kit figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Kit met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Kit experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[southernmermaidsgrotto]

How did you get started on your witchcraft journey? I'm a beginner bruja and I'm having a hard time finding resources or trusted brujas to get advice from, do you have any tips or pointers?

Hello! well, to be honest, I am a hereditary practitioner. Most of my current practice comes from what I learnt from my mother & grandmother growing up, with some bits from other family members aswell. I started putting effort & trying to find my own way when I was 11-12 years old, but still with my family's guidance and I've been walking the path ever since.

My first and most important tip will always be to connect with your ancestors first. They have the keys to the kingdom. Anything you want to do or learn, they'll either teach you directly or point you towards the right mentors & elders to learn from. Light a white candle for them and pray, in whichever way you prefer, christian, pagan, doesn't matter. Speak to them. Make a space in your home for them, a shelf with the white candle and some stuff that reminds you of them, that they would like. Christian ancestors could appreciate a bible or a book of psalms and songs, but other offerings could be medicinal plants, alcoholic drinks (if you're of legal drinking age) musical instruments, even food if you feel like cooking for them, feeding them is a great offering to strengthen that bond. A cup of water would also be splendid, and change the water often. Don't let it go dry. Ask for their guidance in your path, let them lead your hand.

My second tip is simply to talk to your family, if you can and it's safe for you to do so. Depending on their beliefs and what culture they belong to, they'll be able to tell you more or less about brujería and magic in general, but both your living and dead relatives, of your own blood and culture, will always be your #1 most valued source. Ask for paranormal stories, or about hadas, duendes, ask if they know any origin stories to rivers, mountains, to the world, any fables that include the native animals of your ancestral land, any tricks or charms to attract good luck, drive away evil, home remedies, etc. Careful here, because brujería traditionally has negative connotations in latin america, so older folks are likely to reject it. Instead, ask about magia, santos, curaciones, remedios, you'll probably have more luck and see they have a completely different (a more positive) reaction to these words than to brujería. I'll post in more detailed about the wording of it all soon.

And finally, connect to the Land around you & it's spirits. If you're lucky to be in your ancestral lands, learn all you can about it's flora and fauna, and it's history and folklore, and about your own family's history. If you're displaced, learn about both your ancestral lands AND the land you're currently living in, who the ancestral owners would be, etc. Again, flora, fauna, history, folklore and stories of all sorts. There you'll find more bits and pieces of how to build your relationship with the Spirits and the Ancestors of the Land, of what kind of magic and spirits inhabit it, and more.

Of course you can also try to find other brujas online to help you find your way in brujería, there's a lot of very knowledgeable practitioners of curanderismo, brujería and other traditional practices online, but as inspiring as they can be, they shouldn't be your primary nor only source, rather, take what you find online with a huge grain of salt and before accepting and using what they share, analize it critically from your own point of view, your history, your culture, make sure it makes sense to you. Online sources, videos, books even, can have a lot of useful things or a lot of misappropriated out-of-context nonsense. Everyone's brujería is different because our history and our cultures are different... and beyond differences, there's a bunch of crap online aswell. Always keep a critical eye, specially a decolonizing & anti-racist eye.

Last tip, Prayer Without Work Is Dead. Brujería is a practice, so practice! research as much as you can and then try different approaches, see what sticks, find what works best for you, and make sure to balance the spiritual and the material. A study spell to ace an exam won't do much if you don't actually sit down to study, always accompany your spiritual work with physical effort aswell.

Hope that helps darling!! best wishes 💕

[imaginationofomi]

Come Together

Thirty-One

Nayeli loved the saying April showers bring May flowers. It was especially true for the park across the street from the firehouse. Many perennials and others were in bloom, dotting the grass with shades of pink, purple, blue and yellow. Picnic tables were covered with plastic tablecloths, and a large grill smoked burgers, hotdogs, hot links, ribs, and chicken for lunch for Station 55 and their family and friends.

The day was warm, a welcome break from the cluster of storms they had at the end of last month. She lifted her face to the sun and warmed her skin, exhaling slowly in a private moment of meditation. She was doing better. Not much, but enough. It was getting easier to make it through the day.

She had Father Bennett bless her house, and Max provided her with some palo santo for extra cleansing assistance. She was forgiving herself and remembering that it was okay to let things go. What's meant to be will be. She was leaving it up to God.

"Model behavior!"

Nayeli's eyes opened just in time to catch Jessica's hug. She was Tommy's wife and a beam of positive energy, beige skin, angular cheeks and hazel eyes with long lashes.

"Why you so pretty? You make me feel like a lump," she said, hooking her arm with Nayeli's as they walked to the drink coolers.

"You are hardly a lump, pageant queen, but I appreciate the compliment. How's the baby making coming?" Nayeli asked. Tommy and Jessica held off having kids while he moved up in ranks at work and she finished her psychology degree. Since reaching their goals, they'd been trying for children pretty much nonstop.

"Um.....it's discouraging. I thought it would be easier. People get pregnant all time, why not me, right? But no luck. It's getting harder to look at the tests after." Jessica touched the corners of her eyes, and Nayeli regretted introducing the topic, "How do dumbasses pop up with kids year round, but I have to plan sex and lay with my feet to the ceiling after in hopes that one of Tommy's swimmers makes it up there. It's unfair, but I have faith that God will give us a baby when the time is right," Jessica sighed.

"That's all we can do. Leave it up to God." Nayeli opened her can of Cactus Cooler and sipped, smiling as some of the kids playing tag ran past them.

"Have either of you seen Isaiah?" Jacob asked, "Dad wants him to go get ice."

Nayeli scanned the park but couldn't find Isaiah's complexion or stature in any of the people around. She knew he was there. They spoke when she arrived.

"I saw him earlier, but I don't know where he went. I'll find him." She already had a good idea of where he was.

Every year, Station 55 threw a barbecue for the people that mattered most to their first responders. Isaiah had no one to show up for him now that his ex was permanently out of the picture. It had to be painful to be surrounded by love and feel like none of it was for you.

Nayeli crossed the street and walked into the firehouse. Isaiah stood in front of the wall of fallen heroes, dabbing his eyes as he looked at the picture of his father. She approached him carefully, touching his forearm to get his attention.

"Hey Lieutenant," she said softly with a half smile and wiped his tears away. They were in a different place than they'd previously been, somewhere between awkward and comfortable. It was mostly Nayeli battling with herself about whether or not they could continue being friends. Looking back on their night together, her behavior was mortifying. She couldn't believe she allowed herself to get to that point and wanted nothing more than to move past the memory. Isaiah was a vibe and a good listener, but most times when she looked at him, she pictured him naked and it would throw her off. The man knew how to work every inch of his body and had a hell of a time working hers, but seeing the tears in his eyes kept her grounded. He was there when she needed someone, and she didn't have a problem returning the favor.

"Hey Lil Bit." He put an arm around her and rested his lips on her hair. They stood together quietly, staring up at Isaiah Senior. She rubbed his side when she felt him trembling.

"You look just like him," she commented, "He's gotta be proud of you."

"You think?"

"I know." Isaiah laid his cheek on her head, and she felt the tiniest bit of water touch her scalp. She squeezed him harder.

"Days like this are always hard. Everybody here has embraced me, but it's not the same, you know? I look around and I see people with their kids or with their parents or both, and I don't have that. It fucks me up, you know?"

"Your time will come," she promised. She truly believed that it would. Isaiah was too amazing to not love, and he had even more love to give. Rose was trying her damned hardest to get him back for a reason.

"I hope so." Isaiah peeled himself off of her, wiped his face and took a deep breath, "Are you okay?" he asked like he wasn't crying thirty seconds prior.

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I recognize heartbreak when I see it," he said, "I didn't wanna bring it up at karaoke because you don't seem like you wanna talk about it, but you haven't been yourself for a while. That worries me. I want to see you happy." He was right about her not wanting to talk about it. She was pretty talked out at that point, but she saw no harm in him checking on her. She was surprised he noticed something was wrong when no one else appeared to.

"I've had better days," she admitted, "I'm getting there. It's just been difficult the last few months."

"You helped me with Rose. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"It doesn't feel right to ask anything of you."

"You're not asking. I'm offering."

"What I really need is an unbiased friend. I feel like everyone in my life has chosen sides, and they think they know what's best for me. I need to learn how to hear them out without letting what they say influence my thought process, but this isn't the space to vent about that. Thank you for offering. Let's just have a good day," she said.

"All right, but if you do wanna talk, I'm all ears."

She smiled up at him and nodded, informing him of his ice purchasing duties as they walked out of the firehouse and back across the street. He asked her to put aside one of the well done burgers for him and promised to bring her back a bomb pop in return. She sat at a table near the grill and Maxwell, watching everyone enjoy their afternoon.

"When did you and Isaiah get so close?" Maxwell asked her, brushing barbecue sauce on the ribs and flipping the chicken legs.

"We've been close for a while. He's always been my favorite at the station."

"Your favorite, huh?"

"Don't give me the eye."

"I'm not....but he's a good guy. You've done a lot worse."

"We're not dating, Dad."

"I know, but if you did, I wouldn't be upset about it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Nayeli said, not wanting to give it too much thought. She was letting go and letting God, but EJ still had an unfortunate hold on her heart. She didn't want to become one of those people that used others to make herself feel better.

She joined the party for the Cupid Shuffle and stayed for the Wobble, doing the specialty steps with Jessica and waving at the camera she saw pointed at her. It was a good day to be outside, and the energy around her was light and lovely, exactly what she needed. Being cooped up in her house didn't do anything positive for her.

"You need sunlight and good vibes," Morgan told her after she expressed a scary level of depression during a book club meeting. So far, both things helped.

After dancing for a while, she retired to a picnic table with a plate of potato salad, baked beans, ribs, and chicken, washing it all down with another Cactus Cooler.

"Your bomb pop, Lil Bit," Isaiah said, occupying the seat next to her as he handed her the popsicle.

"Thankyousomuch," she said quickly and tore into the wrapper, "You get your burger?"

"Mhm." He was on his second plate of food, chowing on chips and trying not to have flashbacks about their night together as she licked and sucked her popsicle. There were moments that were foggy in his head, but he remembered their sex clearer than anything else. It was unforgettable, particularly how skilled she was with her mouth. He cleared his throat and pulled at his pants leg.

"NAYELI!" Someone yelled her name in the distance, and she looked around for the culprit, finding Maxine coming from the parking lot with a baby carrier strapped to her chest and a few plastic bags of fruit bowls and more chips. Nayeli excused herself and walked to her sister and baby niece, "Okay, Duckie! The titties are tittying," Max said and grinned widely.

Nayeli instinctively covered her cleavage, "Don't be weird." She reached for Lanai, releasing the harness and pulling her niece into her arms, "Hi TiTi's pretty baby," she cooed and rubbed her nose on Lanai's cheek. The five month old was nothing but rolls and gums with a head full of thick curls. She smiled at Nayeli and drooled, trying to stick her finger into Nayeli's mouth, "I'm so happy to see you, too! OMG, look at these cheeks!! I just wanna bite em! Where's Diesel?"

"Craig took him to the race track." Nayeli shifted the baby to her hip and helped Max carry the bags to the food table, "Who's the nigga with the blue eyes looking like he wants to put a baby in you?" Maxine asked. Nayeli looked up and in the same direction, meeting the man's gaze and blushing a little as she looked away.

"Isaiah, Dad's protege."

"You fucked him?"

Her eyes bugged out of her head, and she glanced around to make sure no one was listening to them, "What on earth would make you ask me that?"

Max immediately started laughing, "Yeah, you fucked him. That's the look of wanting seconds."

"Technically, it would be thirds," Nayeli mumbled. It was meant for her ears only, but Max heard her and laughed again.

"I ain't mad at it. One thing you know how to do is pull a fine man. If I was straight, we just might have a problem. How's my niece?" Unlike the rest of their family, Max was all in on EJ and Tatiana. She was still the only person that supported Nayeli 100 percent, probably because when she came out to their family, Nayeli was the only one that supported her 100 percent. For that alone, Max loved her the most and would do anything for her.

"She's amazing."

"You're enjoying mom life?"

"Definitely. I always knew I'd love being a mom, but like I really love being a mom. Watching her grow, I swear she gets a little taller everyday. She's so smart, and she asks way too many questions. I'm always waiting to hear what's going to come out of her mouth next because I just know it's going to be something wild. There are so many surprises. I didn't expect to end up here, but I don't regret any decision that I made."

"Good. You shouldn't. We only have one life to live. Do what makes you happy and don't apologize for it," Max told her and grimaced, "Well, you might have to apologize once."

Nayeli didn't like the look on her face, and when she turned around, what she saw, she liked even less.

"What the hell is he doing here?" EJ was strolling toward the park with Tati at his side, the sole reason she wasn't all the way angry. She shared with EJ where she would be for most the afternoon because she was supposed to pick Tati up after her skating lesson. She didn't expect him to show up.

"I bet money Daddy invited him. You've basically adopted Tati. They're family. This is a family and friends barbecue."

"He could've given me a heads up."

"I'm gathering there's a reason why he didn't," Max said as Tati and EJ split, the latter walking over to Maxwell while Tati bolted to them.

"MOMMY!" she screamed and jumped onto Nayeli's free side. No matter how much or how little time passed in between, Tatiana was always excited to see her. It made her feel good, "Hi, Auntie Max."

"Hi, niece." Max hugged her tightly.

"Can I hold Lanai again?"

"When's the last time you washed those grubby little hands?"

"Uuuuuh."

"Nope! To the bathroom." Auntie and niece walked away, leaving Nayeli with the baby, but she didn't mind. She returned to the picnic tables and sat down, letting Lanai stand up and bounce on her legs. She would've taken her over to Maxwell, but he was still deep in conversation with EJ so she decided to stay in her lane.

Isaiah sat next to her, baby talking to Lanai until she giggled and reached for his face. He let her pull at his nose and cheeks and told her how adorable she was.

"Who is this?" Tatiana demanded after coming back from the bathroom. She had her arms crossed, eyes suspiciously pointed at the man next to her mommy. Max picked Lanai up and moved outside the circle so she could watch the show go down.

"My friend, Isaiah," Nayeli said uncomfortably.

"Hi, Isaiah. You're sitting too close to my mom." Tati motioned with her fingers for him to move down the bench and sat between them.

"I'm sorry, Itty Bit," Isaiah said with a smile and a chuckle, scooting further when she motioned for him to move again, "Is that better?"

"There's more room on the other side of the table."

"Tati, be nice."

"I don't like the way he's looking at you," Tatiana tried to whisper, but she was heard anyway. Maxine snickered quietly.

Nayeli sighed, "Did you eat lunch?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Let's go get you some food." She stood up and put her hand on Tati's shoulder, steering her toward the end of the self-serve table with the plates, napkins, and utensils, "Why did you give him attitude?"

"I don't want you to go on a date with him," Tati said.

"That's not a reason to be rude, love. He's been a very good friend to me for a long time," Nayeli explained, building a small burger and adding some sides to the plate.

"He looks at you the way Daddy does."

"Your father hardly looks at me at all."

"He misses you." It never seemed that way. The last time they had a conversation that went on for more than a few sentences, he apologized for the way he treated her only to barely improve.

"Did he tell you that?" Nayeli asked.

"No, but he hasn't been in a good mood and he looks at your pictures in his room all the time." She didn't know they were still in there. Really, she didn't know much of anything. The once open book now had a lock and key on it, "Do you miss him?"

She wished she didn't.

☼☼☼

Rarely ever did EJ feel like he was in the wrong. If he did something, there was a reason for it and he wouldn't apologize for it. He was impulsive , and every action had a motive. Every question had an answer, and he was always right.

But Nayeli was a different ballpark, one he was learning to navigate. With her, he couldn't always be right. He decided to wave his white flag, but he wanted to do it with a grand gesture. He knew luxury and romance, but Nayeli didn't care about a dollar. He wanted to give her something from the heart, enlisting her father's help to do it.

It burned him inside to tuck his tail between his legs and admit that he messed up, but it was better to be honest than to bullshit the man. Maxwell heard him out, holding his opinion until the end. He was unhappy with them both and lectured EJ about stepping up as a man. A husband and father didn't dip at the first sign of choppy water. EJ was only going to be married once, and the only woman he wanted walking down the aisle to him was Nayeli. He talked the talk and needed to walk the walk.

Maxwell was reluctant to help him but agreed to come up with a game plan and invited him to a friends and family barbecue to discuss it further. EJ knew Nayeli would be there and felt that it was a set up. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Nayeli laughing with some man seated next to her and entertaining her niece. Maxwell was talking, but EJ was focused on Nayeli until he felt a hand come down hard on his shoulder.

"Are you listening to me?" Maxwell asked.

"Sorry, one more time?" EJ tried to shake off the anger building in his body, reminding himself that he had his own dirt, and she wasn't doing anything wrong.

Maxwell caught onto what had him peeved and chuckled, "Don't get worked up about it," he said and patted EJ on the shoulder again.

"What are my chances?"

"Right now? It's not looking too good. Nayeli doesn't hold grudges often, but when she does, she digs her heels in." Maxwell flipped some of the burgers and took the rest of the hot links off of the grill, wiping his face with a towel. "Take her to the orchard I told you about. She's been wanting to go for years."

"What do you know about him?" EJ asked, eyes still on Nayeli and the dude. It was more important to keep a look out because Tati had just walked back with Maxine.

"His name's Isaiah. He's our Lieutenant. Good kid. His father was one of my best friends, died in the line of duty. He's like a son to me," Maxwell answered, and EJ couldn't help thinking that was the nail in his coffin. Asshole already had the stamp of approval, and he was grinning in Nayeli's face like they were sharing a private joke. What Maxwell said next made it plain that the afternoon was a warning shot, "I don't like to meddle in my kids' lives, but I was going to set them up after she gave Jalen his walking papers. She showed up with you, and you talk a good game, so I tried to see it for you. Now, it might not have been your intention, but you put my daughter through the wringer. Now you ask for my help getting her back, and I'm not sure that I trust you with her. If you get married down the line, and you reach that point where your relationship is struggling, are you going to cut and run? You gonna be an asshole because you have to compromise?"

"No, sir," EJ said firmly.

"I'd like to trust you, but I need see action because I trust Isaiah. He is who I want her with, but my baby girl says she is miserable without you. I want her to be happy, and if you make her happy, so be it. Don't jerk her around because I'm only giving my blessing to one man. Right now, that man's not you."

☼☼☼

The night was not young, Saturday looming as the hours after midnight ticked by. Nayeli was on her couch, sherpa blanket covering her legs and a mug of homegrown chamomile tea cooling on the coffee table. She laughed at Khadijah being high on tranquilizers and requesting Wu-Tang Clan from the harp player. Her laughter was interrupted by her doorbell going off three times.

Stomach in knots, she muted the TV and waited. The doorbell went off again, someone banging on the screen door after. It was too ate to feasibly expect anybody at that hour with the exception of a booty call. She had no idea who was banging on her door, but she had no intentions of answering it.

"Nayeli!" Whoever it was knew her name, and she started to panic, "Nayeli, it's Angelo!"

"The fuck?" She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but she pulled her robe back on, pushed the blanket to the side and walked to the front door, grabbing her bat as she checked the peephole just in case. It was, indeed, Angelo on her porch, along with one other man that was holding up what looked like an intoxicated EJ. She swore under her breath and thought about leaving him out there.

Of all Friday nights/Saturday mornings to disturb, it had to be hers. He acted a plum fool at the barbecue, and she wasn't done wanting to whoop his ass, size difference be damned. But she vowed to take care of him and chose to show mercy instead of holding his feet to fire....at least until he got inside. Twisting the deadbolt, she opened the door and unlocked the screen.

"SHORTCAKE!" EJ yelled, and the waft of liquor that came out of his mouth burned her eyes. If she had a match, her whole house would've gone up in flames.

"You're looking a little unsteady on your feet there," she said, opening the door wider so they could get him inside.

"I ain't wanna bring him here, but he wouldn't stop asking for you," Angelo said.

"It's okay." It wasn't, but she would act like it was until the matter was resolved. The less witnesses the better, "Put him in the bed. I'll take it from here." She led them to the first bedroom, "Thank you for making sure he didn't end up in a ditch somewhere."

"No problem." Nayeli want to laugh, but nothing was funny. Every time she thought she got a handle on herself, life would throw her another curve ball. She was in the season of tests, and she had no clue if she was passing. She walked Angelo and his friend to the front to lock up after them. Angelo stopped on the porch, "Take it easy on him. I wouldn't say I'm the best person to give relationship advice, but he needs you, even if he acts like he doesn't. He's used to handling shit himself, so he doesn't like to wait around," he tried to explain, but Nayeli heard it all before, "I know he's been giving you hell. Just talk to him, please. I can't take another night like this."

"How many have there been?" she asked because the language was concerning.

"Eight in the last three weeks." She didn't know whether to be angry or have sympathy. If she had sympathy, that would be accepting that Tati was right about him missing her, and she would feel guilty that he missed her so much he drank himself into a stupor. All of that made her angry anyway, "Smack him around if it makes you feel better, but let him know that you love him. That's what he's looking for. 'Night, Nye."

"Goodnight, Angelo."

Closing and locking her doors, she put both hands on the wall, closed her eyes and prayed. She was going to need an immense amount of strength and patience to deal with the man in her old bedroom.

Her steps were slow, and she kept telling herself that she wasn't going to pop him, but the second she walked into the room and he gave her a lazy grin, she was ready to fire on him.

"Babyyyyy." He rolled off of the bed onto his feet and stumbled in her direction, catching himself on the wall and sliding an arm around her waist. He pulled her into him and peppered her face with kisses.

"You smell like a distillery." She pushed him back and tried not to gag from the strength of the stench.

"I smell good?"

"Far from it." She helped him back to the bed so she wouldn't have to attempt picking him up off of the floor if he fell. Which he did. Face down into the mattress. She sighed and pushed his leg, "Turn over unless you want to sleep in your jeans," she said, untying his shoes and setting them aside.

"Tryna get me out my pants. All you had'ta do was ask," he teased, grabbing her hands when she undid the button. She snatched back and popped him, pulling the zipper down and stepping back to tug his pants off from the ankles.

"Please. Lord knows where your dick has been."

"In Blair, Taylor, and Fallon."

"How nice. Thanks for the honesty," she said sarcastically, yanking his pants off and throwing them at his face. She felt triumphant at her head shot and left the room to stew with her tea. It was a mistake letting him in. If she had the strength, she would have put him out on his ass literally.

She sat on the couch and blew on her tea like that would make it cool faster. She over-boiled the water and would have to wait as a result. She had the perfect ratio in her mug, and she didn't want to ruin it with an ice cube.

"You mad at me?" EJ swayed into the room, leaning on the back of the couch near her. She really wanted to put him in the shower. The smell of alcohol was overpowering. It was too bad her tea could cause some serious burns or she would've tossed it at his face.

"Would you be mad at me if I slept with someone else?" she asked smartly.

"Hell yeah!"

"But it's okay for you."

"That's different. A bitch don't have to be my wife to fuck. If you're fucking, you know you wanna marry the nigga. And if you let him fuck before me, we got a problem."

She couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Alcohol made people say and do some strange things, but she was unprepared for what he said to her, "You're talking out of your ass right now. I'm going to get you some pain killers and let you sleep this off."

"That's not what you said?" He followed her back to the bedroom and to the en suite bathroom, watching through double vision as she opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of extra strength Tylenol. She pushed the bottle into his chest.

"Who's watching Tati?"

"Brandy's here for a couple weeks to look at houses."

"Okay. Goodnight EJ."

"There you go with that name again." He snatched her up before she could leave the room and pressed her into the wall, "Don't piss me off. Why you running from me?"

"Because you're drunk as a skunk, and I can't talk to you when you're like this," she said, pushing at his arms to get free.

"You don't talk to me anymore."

"After the way you've acted, we don't have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah we do."

"Like what?"

"Like I still love you," he said, and her whole body started to shut down. With how high her emotions were running and the predicament that they were in, that was the last thing she wanted to hear from him. He drank so much he couldn't stand up straight, showed up to her house in the middle of the night, listed the women he was fucking and had the gall to say that he loved her? She wanted to ring that nigga's bell, and not in a good way.

"I'm sure your new girlfriends wouldn't be happy to hear that." She shoved him hard enough to make him lose his balance, breathing easier with him out of her personal space.

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Do Blair, Taylor, and Fallon know that?"

"They don't got shit on you."

"But you're fucking them and not me, so they must have something."

"Why you gotta be like that?" He sucked his teeth and tried to trap her again. She ducked his arms and moved to the other side of the room, closer to the exit.

"You're the one that brought them up," she said and walked out.

"I'm supposed to have a dry dick the rest of my life?" He followed her out into the hallway, zig-zagging behind her as she cleaned up the living room and shut the TV off.

"You can do what you want, EJ."

"Cut that shit out!" He raised his voice and grabbed her by her arms. He wasn't hurting her, but the action startled her and she whimpered. The sound calmed him, and he loosened his grip, "I'm Ezra to you."

"But you're not. You stopped being Ezra when you started treating me like a gnat that won't die. Goodnight." She pulled away from him and ran to the back room, shutting the door and locking it. She knew it wouldn't stop him if he really wanted to get through, but at least he would get the hint if he tried to turn the nob.

"Baby, unlock the door." Too drunk to take the hint, apparently. The knob jiggled a few times and she heard a thud. "I'm gonna sit out here until you let me in," he said, knocking continuously, "Baaaaaaabbbbbbbyyyyyyyy."

"It's Nayeli to you!" she shouted at him.

"Never. You'll always be my baby and my shortcake. I'm 'bout to sing like Mariah Carey. How it go? Ah yeah, you'll always be a part of meeeee, and I'm part of you deffinillleeeyyy. GIRL DDONN YOU KNOW YOU CANNN ESCAPE MEEE!"

Against her better judgement, she laughed behind her hand at the horrible rendition of a classic. She wasn't supposed to find him amusing in that moment, but she snorted anyway.

"I don't think so," she said once she gathered herself.

"Why?"

"We're not in a relationship."

"Let's get back together then."

"You've really lost it. You told me you're fucking not one but three different women, and you think I'd want to get back together? Now? You really are drunk. And maybe senile." Men were never short of audacity.

"I got no problem cutting them off."

"That's not the point."

"What's the point of anything anymore?" He got quiet for a while, and she wondered if he'd fallen asleep until he started knocking again, "Please let me in," he pleaded.

"Why should I?"

"So I can look you in the face when I say sorry."

"You already apologized to me."

"Not for breaking up with you," he said. "It was stupid and impulsive and I wish I never did it."

She questioned his motives. Up until the day of the barbecue, they were skating on thin ice with each other. The ice cracked and plunged them into freezing waters that day. EJ damn near whipped his dick out and pissed a literal circle around her with a clear warning to Isaiah that he was not to cross the line. After, he went right back to behaving like she was a nuisance.

"What made you go from wanting to marry me to wanting me out of your life?" she asked, walking to the door and sitting down.

"I don't want you out of my life. I thought you wanted out. I was trying to save myself."

"No matter what we went through, I was never going to leave you. If nothing else was clear to me, that always was." She heard him shift, and when he spoke, his voice sounded closer.

"Open the door." There were pros and cons to doing so. A pro, he was on the ground and unlikely to be able to maneuver much on his own. Con, he probably wouldn't leave her alone, but that was a con no matter what she chose. Sighing, she stood up and unlocked the door, pulling it open and laughing when his upper body hit the floor, "I don't know if I can get back up."

"It's fine. Maybe a night on the floor is exactly what you need," she stated and took a seat next to him. He grabbed her left hand and held it in both of his.

"You really weren't gonna leave me? You not just saying that?"

"I'm not. I would've struggled through it all with you."

He went quiet again, facing the ceiling with eyes so low she thought they were closed. He was only thinking, looking right at her and bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss it, "I'm sorry for being a butt," he said. Drunk words were sober thoughts, so even though he was still on her shit list, she started to ease up a little.

"Why did you think I was going to leave you?"

"The back and forth shit. You were scared of everything, and then you sent me home that one night. Everything just felt uncertain, and I'on like that shit. I dealt with it for years with Savannah. I needed ta know if you were in or out. I went about it the wrong way."

"Don't ever in your life compare me to that bitch," she said quickly, mushing him when he laughed and hiccuped, "You're laughing, but I'm serious. We are nothing alike."

"It's just funny to hear you talk shit. You wanted to be nice soooooooo bad."

"She touched my daughter. I should've rocked her shit when she dropped off the paperwork." But she didn't have a criminal record of assault, so there was that. EJ continued to hiccup, and she stood to grab the trashcan from the corner of the room in case he needed to throw up, "I'm gonna get you water." She went to the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle from the refrigerator. When she got back to the room, EJ was sitting up.

"You love me?" he asked and took the open bottle from her hand, spilling some of it on himself. He was going to feel like shit in the morning, and that gave her a pinch of satisfaction.

"I wouldn't be taking care of your drunk ass if I didn't."

"I need you to tell me."

"EJ-"

"Ezra," he corrected.

"I do love you, but I'm in a weird place. You're hot and cold with me, too, when it comes to patience. You've told me that you understood me needing time to catch up to where you are and then you snatched the rug out from underneath me at the worst moment you could. I'm still extremely hurt, more than I was when you broke up with me. I wanted to talk about getting back together so many times, but the way you treated me changed everything. You can't be crappy to me and expect me to turn the other cheek and say that it's okay. You made me feel like shit for months, all over a misunderstanding. You don't do that to someone you love as much as you claimed to love me."

"Claimed? You think I was lying?"

"I wonder. You flipped on me so fast," she said quietly, "I just don't get why you had to break up with me. We could've worked on it."

"We can now."

"Everything's different now. You're involved. I-" She didn't know how to finish her sentence, but her pause angered him.

"You're what? You fucking that nigga from the barbecue?"

"I feel like I just need to do me for a minute," she answered, fearful of what his reaction might be. He exhaled roughly and kissed her hand again.

"I don't want you to doubt that I love you. I love you more than anything or anybody. Except Tati, but you know how that goes. I'mma work on not being a dick to you, and I hope one day we can get back right. I still wanna marry you and buy you the farm and have a bunch of babies." He smiled at her, dimples sinking into his cheeks. It was the same as the very first smile he gave her, and it took her back to the beginning.

"That was my dream for a while," she said.

"It's not anymore?"

"Sometimes, but I force myself to face reality. It's less disappointing when things don't turn out the way I want."

"Gimme a chance to make you a believer again," he said, clumsily stroking her face.

"If you remember this conversation in the morning, ask me again in a few weeks."

"I'll remember."

[bisexual-yuri]

“(De) Termination”

It’s all in the letter

They said go out & get her 

Fuck her, it’s her shit 

You found her, that’s dirt shit

She posts nerd shit, don’t doxx her 

Family matters, they mock her 

Do you need a doctor?

Tamarind finder

He’s a real trucker

Rico’s in the narrative 

Good luck sir 

You held her heart in your hands 

You suck sir 

Edi on the phone, secrets that we moan

Bi, lovers

Go sir, no sir

Daddy complex

He’s only alone sir

She’s on the phone sir

All alone? Curr

That means dog, curr

Cats & flogs

Sir

Bullwhipped frog

Sir 

Poorly sated, heaven fated

Logan’s a stalker 

Smooth talker

He’s her ex, denied her sex

Didn’t love her

Retire to Alaska road trip with Weester 

Dream out loud, out and proud

That’s my DOG, sir

You can’t have her 

Heaven sent

Nasty bent 

You lost, sir 

You’re no main character

You’re a loser, sir 

Stay inside, always hide 

Watch Mind Hunter

Franklin vibes

Ali chimes

Terminate, her 

Santos knows he blew the smoke 

He harassed her 

Alex Penn and so many men 

Don’t you have daughters?

You’re a jerk, sir 

You went beserk, sir 

8-ball time 

Children’s rhymes

He says don’t talk, sir 

DV time, victim of crime

Franklin’s eyes & bad news rhymes

Bad daddy jokes & bicycle spokes

You a scary fucker 

3 green frogs pursue her

Sapo symbolism

Look for the metaphor 

My kids know me more

You think I’m a whore

No more, Chris, no more

[axeattitude]

@ronins: bad luck, it’ll do that sometimes, get you down to basics. from morgan blackhand. / neuromancer.

the lights of rancho coronado wink in and out in the shadow of the petrochem dam. blackouts have darkened swaths of santo domingo like bruises and they lend an almost lonely air to the sprawl below, netrunners carving into the power grid for the fun of it. nothing new.

the road that leads to it and then curves along the top of the dam is quiet, too. only a few cars have swept along its curve. not many people have wanted to venture into a night darkened by the reaching hand of mischief.

that suits them fine.

kerry runs his hand along the lowered tailgate of morgan's mackinaw, one leg swinging idly, the other bent with his foot tucked beneath his thigh. backed up to a break in the guardrails just before the dam starts, he isn't sure the truck belongs to morgan - it's in too sorry a state and too factory stock - but also doesn't think it matters. he had grinned at the rust-eaten ride morgan had chosen when he'd pulled up to the gate of the villa, and was reminded of the sad pieces of shit he tends to borrow himself when he needs a vehicle that isn't worth anything to anyone.

their conversation had meandered after they had gotten here, where the drive had been undertaken in companionable silence. kerry hadn't known where morgan had intended to take them, hadn't asked. morgan didn't volunteer the information either. that suited them fine, too. it turned at some point, though. to this, to luck.

"fuck, yeah. we both know that." kerry mutters with a sidelong glance towards morgan, and then sighs. he's had his share of it. bad luck. morgan too, kerry thinks, and so morgan doesn't need to say much more. they know the low of it, the sting and bite, the basics. "and you don't want anyone to know when it does, y'know? it's like... blood in the water. bait to every asshole that wants to get at you when you're down."

[elixirjade]

he can never sympathize with whatever im feeling. i just feel like someday if i break down, he wouldnt even bother and will make me feel like im being overly dramatic. how i wish i am just being overlydramatic. how i wish. i feel so helpless because no matter how much effort i put in to push against what was predestined to me, nalulunod pa rin ako. he cant even understand that people have different personalities. im a worrier, of course ill worry. why am i a worrier? nothing has been good in my life ever since i was born. i have to worry about a lot of things ever since i was a kid. he cant even understand that. sabagay, lumaki sya sa maayos na pamilya. pwede ba bumalik na lang ako sa nakaraan at patayin ko yung baby na ako? tutal confined naman na din sya sa hospital ng ilang taon, might as well just pull the plug ng oxygen tank ko nun. it would be best if i just dont exist. bakit di man lang ako nabahagian ng swerte sa buhay ko? bakit hanggang paggising ko kailangan on defense mode ako palagi? kaya siguro ansama ng ugali ko. ang hirap maging mabait or charming or bubbly kung lahat ng bagay pinagkait sayo. mukha ko pa nga lang pinagkait na rin. ano ba. siguro mawawala tong mga problema ko kung mamamatay na lang ako. ill max out my cards then off myself. wala naman sila mahahabol sa pamilya ko. ni maski ako nga di yan macontact. sana naging lasinggera na lang ako, atleast kaya ko maging miserable basta laseng. ano ba kexcite excite sa future? bukod sa tatanda akong walang napundar, tatandang panget, kung magkaanak man ako kelangan ko pa kumayod hanggang 80 ako. bat di ako nagpabuntis sa mga nakalandian kong foreners date, baka meron na akong anak na investment. bakit ba ang tigas ng ulo ko at pilit akong lumalaban sa di naman para saken. eh di nga para saken maayos na buhay diba?? bat ako nagpapakatino?? di naman ako santo. bat ba ako nagtitiis sa ganitong buhay , eh pwede naman ako magpakamatay? tinuloy ko na lang din pala dati kong attempt, pota kasi eh. kainis. napakawalang kwenta kong tao. dasurb kolahat ng bad luck. bigay niyo saken lahat l. ako na lang gawin niyong deity ng bad luck

[cruelsxmmcr]

heatwayve​:

– “YEAH,” NAOMI NODS, “I ICED IT.” maybe not … immediately, but there was an attempt after her run-in with josh. she can’t help but think what it would be like if dylan found her in the bathroom last night instead – her head would probably be a lot clearer than it is this morning, she probably would’ve slept so much more peacefully. naomi watches dylan’s face closely as she gets into what happened. naomi’s well aware that he can’t reasonably be upset with her with the way things went down, but she’s also prepared for him to be calm about it at this point, his usual self. dylan just doesn’t get easily riled up by anything, thinks things through with a calm rationality. on a show like this, it makes him feel extremely steady and dependable to naomi, the fact that she can predict the tone of their interactions and that he won’t fly off the handle about something like this – he always listens first. naomi’s still a little amazed by him, he makes it seem so easy. if someone else tried to kiss dylan last night, she’d probably have a well-organized plan of attack. soft, content sigh on her lips as he pulls her close, naomi hitches her leg around dylan’s side, bringing their bodies flush together. she can tell his actions are meant to reassure her, that he’s comforting her, and it makes her smile. naomi leans into his touch, a gentle kiss pressed to the palm of his hand before she looks back up at him with wide hazel eyes. “ hm, ” she hums, playfully contemplating, “ maybe date someone less cute ? or you’ll have to start standing guard. it just can’t be helped, i’m far too kissable. ” a smile works its way onto her lips, still taking note of all of dylan’s reactions. you pulled away, and that’s what matters to me. she wraps her arms around him, giving him a quick and tight appreciative hug before rolling over so that she’s laying directly on top of him. “ um, yes. like a bitch, and it still hurts. ” naomi’s tough, but she also likes to complain. “ marcus is probably in worse shape today, though, i haven’t seen him yet. but there was like, so much blood, his nose just wouldn’t stop. if i wasn’t so panicked, i probably would have puked. ” 

“You’ll just have to stay with me all the time. No more talking to people when I’m not around,” he teases. Though, really, he’d love nothing more than for people to stop kissing Naomi, thank you very much. Is he jealous? Absolutely. Being kissed by Josh and Marcus in one night is a little too much and with the latter, it was not a game. He believes Marcus was trying his luck with Naomi. They are on a show about dating, and now that he and Romi were over, didn’t he need to see if things can work with someone else? It’s literally the purpose of this show. However, as long as Naomi’s made things clear, it’s alright. He doesn’t want any tension between him and Marcus, he likes him and he sympathizes with both him and Romi after everything; however, he still would’ve preferred it if he didn’t try to kiss Naomi. His arms wrap tightly around hers when she hugs him, moving to press a kiss to her shoulder before she’s rolled over on top of him, his hands settled on his waist, lazily and absentmindedly tracing circles into her skin with his fingers. “It’ll be fine in a few days, and it shouldn’t hurt unless you touch it.” He nods at her words, believing her. “Well, you did headbutt the bloke in the nose,” he says, scrunching his nose. It’s a little embarrassing having that happen when you’re trying to kiss someone else. “Yeah, I can imagine. It needs a little bit for it to stop bleeding, but he should be fine today. His nose’s probably a tad swollen, if anything.” His eyes widen slightly. “Naomi Santos didn’t puke at the sight of blood? Color me surprised.”

[khasmc]

Where do you hold your love?

Tony

you hold your love in your heart. love is intrinsic, inevitable, love is the beating core of everything; love is also hard to talk about. your love comes out with more rareness, mostly shows up for the big things in a big way- this doesn't mean it doesn't beat for the small stuff, you feel it all, in fact you feel it more intensely than most which is why it's so hard to get out. you hold your love inside you because it matters, it might be the only thing that does.

Rose & Santos

you hold your love on your shoulders; a weight to bear but one you're not crumbling under. love for you is heavy, big- it makes up everything, the world is comprised entirely of love and you know it. this can make you feel smaller than you'd like to, like you have an obligation to be a part of it, or maybe an obligation to create a love so massive it marks itself as different- greater, a task to take upon yourself. but doesn't all love feel different? and isn't all love great?

Sophia

on your tongue. your love is language. it's the way you say goodbye, good morning, how was your day?. love for you is less something to talk about and more something that weaves itself into your speech without permission (and, of course, with it). love comes out of you everyday in the easiest way to understand; what's the point of feeling it if you don't say it? sing it? scream it? it bubbles up and spills over anyway.

[ruvviks]

– Beautiful Crime.

Characters >> Cassidy Shaffer (oc), Sebastian Vidal (other's oc) Total >> 3.1k words Warnings >> Blood mention, injuries, mild violence

The building stood tall and abandoned.

It was a miracle they had not taken it down yet; in the midst of a busy neighborhood in Santo Domingo, a safety hazard more than anything else at that point. No one bothered to do maintenance and sooner rather than later it was bound to start falling apart- but until then it would remain a safe haven for junkies and unfortunate souls without a place to call home alike.

And one man’s home is another man’s vantage point.

Light, careful footsteps; yet the clacking of his heels on the cold floor still echoed through the concrete staircase with each gentle footfall, the emptiness of the building an overwhelming presence in the cool interior air.

He had not been there before. In the district, yes- but never that specific neighborhood, never that specific building. Most of the jobs he took did not take him further south than Heywood, yet now he found himself near the Badlands; which truly was the last place he wanted to end up in.

A curious location; a white picket fence suburban house in a white picket fence suburb- next to a building about to collapse, no less- and Cassidy failed to see the strategic advantage of it all. He strongly doubted it was a home base of any sorts; most likely nothing more than a temporary refuge, or a safehouse, or a rendezvous.

Eliminate their leader.

Not a first. Many gang leaders in Night City had died by Cassidy Shaffer’s hands, no questions asked, no setbacks, and no dire consequences. It never got rid of the threat at hand- a new leader was more than often easily appointed, especially Maelstrom could get it done in less than an afternoon’s work- but the pay was good, and if done well it would at least render them inactive for some days as they tried to reorganize.

Though this was different.

A smaller gang with little public information, and essentially an empty case file in the NCPD database. Not unheard of, though; and if anything, organized better than most if not all the other gangs in town.

Cassidy found his way to one of the top floors of the building and briefly slowed his pace, glancing through a window to take a careful peek down. He was not fond of heights; or buildings on the verge of collapse, for that matter. Yet it was necessary at times, and he rather committed for a job well done than halfass it for a selfish sense of security. The latter really did not bring him any closer to his payment.

It was a decent angle. Not optimal, but he had worked with less in the past; had landed flawless hits from just around a corner on several occasions, so naturally this should not be any issue for him. He let a sharp exhale leave his lips while swinging the sniper rifle off his shoulder, and he kneeled down to reach the mechanism to open the ceiling-high window of the outer wall of the building.

It had not been easy to track them down. He’d had crumbs to work with, snippets of information with most detes expunged leaving just enough to at least limit his options to several districts- and at the end of the day it hadn’t even been of value to him, considering how he had finally gotten on their trail.

A purchase. One black coffee, paid via transfer rather than cash- which is why it had popped up for Cassidy during his deep dive in the Net. Clearly a slip-up, a mistake; thus far his target had been nothing but thorough, and this opportunity had been caused by pure luck more than anything else.

But Cassidy could not complain. His client had given him nothing to work with and he had needed to do everything himself; steps he was willing to take, as long as he would be compensated well for it, of course. But money had not been an issue. It rarely was, considering the kind of people he was contracted by; though much like his target, this was different, still.

A mysterious client. No name, no face- no real voice, even. As if Cassidy had been talking with a computer, those brief five to ten minutes they had spoken together. He did not mind the secrecy, understanding very well that sometimes privacy was of great importance for an assassination; and thus he had not questioned it, and had done the job that had been asked of him without complaining.

None of it mattered either way. Cassidy was rarely one to ask many questions; he had already found early on they usually did not help either way, as Night City was corrupted to its very core. Nowadays, the only questions he asked were for himself; following his own set of rules, carefully established for the sake of his own sanity.

The only question that had mattered to him, was whether or not his client was aligned with any corporation. A simple question, often met with a simple answer; a “yes” would cause him to walk away, and a “no” would give him something to hold against them would it ever turned out they lied.

People tended to not care. Lying was part of his line of work. Yet Cassidy still valued honesty above all else; knowing someone lied to him, something he wouldn’t have known had he never asked, gave him enough reason to turn against them.

It was his way of justifying it to himself, in a way. His rules, which he followed as if his life depended on it; for his own safety. And lying was something he had never appreciated.

Luckily for him, as mysterious as his client was this time, they were not from any corporation. At least- that’s what they had told him.

Cassidy carefully lowered himself on the ground entirely now, setting his rifle on the small tripod he always carried with him and taking off the safety. A gentle breeze blew in from the now opened window, ruffling his hair and gently blowing past his face-

Though to him it felt like tiny knives and needles painfully grazing his skin, sharp jabs triggering his nervous system and locking up his muscles. He clenched his jaw and quickly redirected his focus to the scope of his rifle, trying to ignore the wind as his eyes scanned the backyard of the house.

Sebastian Vidal.

Twenty-nine years old. Most likely ex-corpo, or at least corpo-aligned in the past. And that was all Cassidy had been able to gather.

Curious, but it did not matter. His target sat alone in the backyard, and none of the information about him Cassidy had and had not been able to get his hands on was of importance in any of it. Two minutes later and the man would be dead, and Cassidy would get his payment and he would move on to the next unfortunate soul he would have to put in his sights.

He readjusted his grip on the rifle as he relaxed, steadying his breathing while taking a moment to study his target. He was clearly not expecting any danger, judging by the way he sat all by himself on that chair- add a beer and clothing other than a suit and he could’ve been just anyone, blending in perfectly with the rest of the neighborhood.

Cassidy could not help but take a bit longer than usual, his eyes slowly moving over the man’s features. The picture he’d had to work with was clearly outdated, he realized now; a significantly stronger build, and silvery gray hair rather than a deep brown, leaving Cassidy wondering whether it was dyed or natural.

He was able to see the man’s eyes from his vantage point- a curious shade of pale, icy blue, yet as remarkable as they were, somehow not the most defining feature of his target’s appearance.

No, that would be his cyberjaw.

Cassidy had seen them before, though this model was different from the ones he was used to. Strong plating covering the sides of his jaw, sloping down toward his chin and seemingly ending there. Medical cyberware rather than decorative, Cassidy could only assume- and he did not want to think about what could have caused the gang leader to end up with such a jaw in the first place.

Not as if it mattered anyway. He had wasted enough time already.

Cassidy watched momentarily as the man redirected his attention to the knife in his hand, swiftly rolling it between his fingers. For some reason, Cassidy’s attention was once more drawn toward his eyes-

It was funny, how clearly he could see them from up there. Almost made him wonder what they would look like from up close.

He rolled back his shoulders and sharply exhaled, finger slowly curling around the trigger as he slightly adjusted his angle, taking the direction of the wind into account. Rapid calculations in his head, supported by two- no, three- raised fingers on his empty left hand- and the moment he locked on target he steadily grabbed the rifle, inhaling, and exhaling-

BANG!

He missed.

A soft scoff of disbelief rolled off Cassidy’s lips before he could stop himself, blood running cold as the- only partially suppressed- gunshot echoed through the building. He frowned, mind instantly going over his calculations again- had he made a mistake?

He watched as Sebastian froze, knife balancing on his middle finger as he slowly turned to glance at the wall behind him, Cassidy’s bullet drilled deep into the yellow-painted exterior of the house. He turned back, lips slightly moving as if mumbling to himself and he lightly tilted his head as his eyes trailed the building Cassidy was in, as if he was calculating the angle-

Crap.

Cassidy scrambled to reload, a flare of panic suddenly rushing through his system. It had been a clear shot- he had never missed a clear shot before. Nothing wrong with his calculations, nothing wrong with the angle, or his composure-

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he sharply said out loud, to nobody in particular. ‘Pull yourself together.’

Another bullet ready. Quick recalculations- Sebastian’s head lined up in his sights. The man was still counting, head slowly tilting up further and further while Cassidy’s finger curled around the trigger again, and their eyes met-

Sebastian’s head came to a stop.

And he smiled.

BANG!

Cassidy blinked, the air violently slammed out of his lungs the second he realized his second bullet had missed its target even more than the first. Sebastian cocked an eyebrow and glanced behind him again, the smile lingering on his face while his gaze landed on the second hole in the wall- and Cassidy felt blood rush to his ears, embarrassment overtaking him.

‘Come on, hurry-!’

‘They’re upstairs!’

No time for a third shot.

Cassidy jumped up, swinging the rifle over his shoulder again and holding the tripod tightly in his hand as he rushed back to the staircase. His heart was racing in his chest and his ears were burning, shame tightening his chest as he descended as fast as he could without tripping over his own feet.

How could he miss? Twice, even? Luck had brought him there, after several weeks of searching- and there he was, messing up fantastically, and he knew that one way or another he was going to have to pay the price.

Only one way out of the building; the same way he had entered, the same way Sebastian’s people had entered, too. Cassidy knew they would have almost caught up with him at that point, yet it did very little to him; he would make it out alive, as he always did, perhaps with some scrapes and bruises but if anything he deserved that, now.

He turned the corner and ran face first into someone- hit them with the tripod without hesitation and shoved them into the wall, disarming them before they could pull the trigger. A second person appeared, but Cassidy was fast; leapt down several steps and dropped himself on top of them, using the momentum to immediately push himself back up on his feet and continue his way down.

Oh, how he wanted to just disappear. A setback- a first- and it was most likely going to take him weeks to get another opportunity like that. He rammed himself into yet another gang member, forcefully shoving them into the wall, then activated his monowire and whipped it into the direction of two others- they both managed to dodge in time, but the maneuver gave him enough time to push himself past them down the last set of stairs.

But one of them shot after him- and the bullet grazed his shoulder.

An intense jolt of pain caused him to double over, the sensation burning through his muscles and the few real bones he still had left in his arm. He stumbled out of their line of fire, vision blurred by involuntary tears as he relied on mostly muscle memory to find his way back to the entrance of the building.

He had to get out.

The sunlight blinded him and he gasped for air, a strong taste of blood in his mouth- he had bit his tongue by accident. His arm felt heavy and he could barely move it anymore, despite the injury being minimal; he assumed it was nothing more than a superficial cut in his skin.

But it surely did not feel like it.

Cassidy grunted and clipped the tripod on his belt, then pushed his gloved hand on the wound in an attempt to relieve the pain. He nearly started walking in the wrong direction- passing by the safehouse of his target was probably not the brightest idea- but turned just in time, and hurriedly began making his way out of the neighborhood.

It was not easy for him to blend in, being as tall as he was and considering the clothing he wore- a suit, with a long, black coat over it, as if he had walked straight out of a Militech office; but his Militech days were already long behind him.

A head taller than most people on the streets and fairly easy to spot due to his soft coral pink hair, but still, with the remaining adrenaline in his system he managed to stay ahead of the gang members, and he crossed through some backyards to get them off his trail entirely. Hopped into a bus that was about to leave the stop and quickly pushed his way through the crowded interior to seek refuge in the far back corner.

Great job, Cassidy.

He clenched his jaw and blinked a few times, heartbeat refusing to settle down as the noises in the bus washed over him like a tidal wave. It’d been a mistake to get in; but it was already far too late to step out again, and at the end of the day it was better than walking home.

Cassidy dropped his head against the pole he was leaning against, the metal cold against his hot, sweaty skin. An uncomfortable sensation, but it was something he could focus on, at least. It drowned out the noises around him, and finally lifted the heavy weight on his chest.

He was exhausted, now. A common occurrence, after a job; though usually it would be after a success, rather than a failure. He would go home, take a nice, warm shower or even a bath, then go to sleep and hope his nightmares would let him rest for once.

Another sharp exhale as his mind wandered back to the shots he had taken. Missing, twice- but how? Had he truly been that distracted? But distracted by what?

The bus driver suddenly hit the brakes, causing Cassidy to lose his balance and bump into a woman to his left. The sudden physical contact shook him awake again, heavy thrumming of his heartbeat filling his upper arm, and he let out a strangled cough to keep in a pained whimper.

‘Sorry,’ he quietly mumbled, and quickly retreated into his corner.

It was not all that big of a deal. His client, whoever it was, had told him to take his time; no rush, as long as he could get the job done. And Cassidy could- he knew he could, this was a job like any other. But missing a clear shot, not once, but twice-

‘You have a location to work with, now,’ he muttered to himself, resting his forehead against the pole again and closing his eyes. ‘Deep dive into the Net to recover footage, track them down from there. Not a big deal, we’ve done this before.’

Only partially true. He had done it before, yes- though it had been part of his plan, and not after a failed assassination attempt. It had been different. And it felt wrong to compare the two together. It made him feel bad.

‘Not done it before, then,’ he said after a short pause. ‘But… That’s fine. First time for everything.’

Yeah, that was better.

Cassidy inhaled deeply and straightened his back, slowly regaining control of himself as reality washed over him again. No one had heard him talk; and even if they had, no one had cared. It was Night City, after all- some guy on the bus talking to himself was not an uncommon sight.

His nervous system had calmed down again; mostly, at least. His arm still burned painfully, and some of it had moved to his shoulder, neck and jaw. He was well aware his body’s reaction was anything but normal- yet he also knew there was very little he could do about it, his low pain tolerance and high sensitivity to physical contact the result of an accident in his past, a result he had yet to grow accustomed to.

Mostly he just tended to avoid physical contact with others. An easy solution; it was not as if there was anyone there for him.

Another hit of the brakes, but Cassidy was able to catch himself this time and flawlessly managed to keep his balance. His mind briefly wandered back to the job- but he pushed it out of his head, knowing it was no use to dwell on his mistakes for too long.

Yes, a setback- but not the end of the world. Sebastian was aware of Cassidy’s existence now, which could lead to more bumps in the road- but if anything, that would only make it more interesting.

It had been a while since Cassidy had had an actual challenge.

Perhaps this could be fun.

[glitterandgoldrush]

can you give me some fluffy headcanons to go into a procedure with? i’m very nervous and your headcanons always relax me. you got me through eating lunch alone freshman year and through 2 other procedures. i will take any crumbs from any fandoms your in (kmc-verse, hs, etc)

why’d this make me tear up

good luck with your procedure!! i’m sure everything will be okay ❤️❤️ here’s some fluffy oouil headcanons for you <33

we all know that in the books, addy is obsessed with finding flaws in kris bc he’s so perfect. when she finds out kris birthmark on shoulder, and are scar on his jaw from nicking it shaving, addy is thrilled and she jokes they’re his “only imperfections”

they’re always edited out of his shoots so kris feels a bit ‘meh’ about them

they are coopers favourite thing about him

the b4 come to all of addy’s track meets, all of cooper’s games in high school, and bronwyn’s recitals. they always bring a bunch of the person’s favourite flowers and cooper ALWAYS records a video

when nate graduates from the local college he doesn’t tell anyone bc he feels like it isn’t a big deal. of course bronwyn already knows exactly when his graduation is—she looked it up. they all turn up and to this day nate swears up and down that he didn’t cry, but they all saw the tears in his eyes

when maeve travels with addy, she takes photos of all her meals and sends them to luis with brief descriptions of what they are. when she gets back, he learns how to make all her favourites from the trip

nate orders food to bronwyn’s dorm without telling her to make sure she eats

kris paints a picture for addy’s new bedroom when she moves in and she hangs it right above her bed

speaking of, addy has a million polaroid photos of everyone strung across her room, and when she misses them, she’ll sit down and go through all of them

they all have an agreement that no matter what is happening in their lives, they all have to meet up at LEAST once a month for dinner

they always take ages to decide where to have this dinner as if they’re not going to land on café contigo

(they always do)

(in fact, mr santos has literally put the back table aside for them at practically all times)

they all hate being recognised and the first time cooper was recognised for baseball instead of the murder allegations, he almost cried because he felt like everything was going back to normal

they alternate who gets to pick the activity when they go out—but this doesn’t really work bc nate truly doesn’t care, and will fold to the first bit of pressure from addy or bronwyn

cooper never folds: they watch a LOT of sport as a group consequently

sometimes the b4 will call kris over when cooper and luis are on a non stop baseball rant bc he is the ONLY one who can distract coop long enough to make the conversation end

they have sleepovers in addy’s living room, in blanket forts, like children

cooper and kris are often too tall to even fit, their legs hang out the end

addy gets an extra long blanket just to cover them

maeve and addy try to bake together and they are TERRIBLE at it. addy gets much better over time, maeve never improves. the others choke down the food anyway.

[joannasteez]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature Themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.7k

Credits to who made the gif @angelreyesgirl

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered

Let me know if you’d like a tag!!!

✞

Your annoyance was simmering, daring to merge into the depths of some irreversible state of agitation. The engine of the classic Dodge Charger RT in your possession had, with incredibly poor timing, began to knock. The unsavory noise resonating into the thick air of the street, stilled heat of the day pushing back the regular ebb and flow of the Santo Padre streets to make way for the obnoxious sound of your engine. Your head was spinning, dazed by the bitter humidity and a steady brew of fear trembling in your fingers to dance just under the surface of your skin. The classic car was given by your father, who'd gotten it from his father, the mass of glistening matte black metal of significant value. If the engine failed, you'd be reduced to tears, wading in the dread of some existential crisis.

Your grandfather had had this car for twenty years, the imprint of his essence etched into the leather seats, and when he became grey and withered, he relinquished it to your father for another fifteen years, till finally, it was yours.

You pulled over just as the last knock sounded, the tremble in your fingers worsening. Your eyes welled, sure to leave a soft red glassiness. The need for air consumed you, the space to walk freely about, a puff of smoke or two maybe.

The pavement was hard under your feet, slam of the door accented by vexation. You picked behind your ear, that nicely rolled spliff safely kept and waiting to be lit. The lighter in your front pocket an easy grab, the flicker of orange a short friendly blaze as it singed the paper. The pull you took was slow, measured, as if to savor this minuscule moment of stillness that lived among others not so still. Not so peaceful. With release, you blew into the air, dried eyes taking in the vast blue of the sky. The never ending expansion blurring your vision as your mind sifted through slim courses of action. If you could just get the car to your garage, then you could figure the battery out on your own, saving time you didn’t have on a mechanics trips you couldn’t afford. All you needed was a—

"Need a boost?"

"Yes". The answer was so quick, it nearly gave you whiplash. The tension in your bones dissipating as you got rid of the sizzling flame around your spliff.

The stranger spun his car from its position just beside yours, the hood of it now facing yours head on before he turned it off and got out.

"Thanks so much for this".

"No problem. It's a nice ride you got, don't really see too many classics rolling around Santo Padre much", he said, eyeing the shine of the paint job. His fingers skimming the hood before he lifted it. "Where'd you get it?"

You step closer to him, a grin stretching your lips at his admiration. The RT was your pride and joy, the height of your ego bursting through to rise above some invisible ceiling whenever folks gave it compliments and stares of approval. "My dad had it for a while, gave it to me when he couldn't keep up with it anymore".

With a nod, he retrieved the cables from his trunk, the wide stretch of his back shifting just under the white fabric of his t-shirt to reveal the curve and ripple of muscles. They traveled down his arms, the bulge of them mixing with defined veins that ran across thick powerful looking fingers. He stretched one of those hands out toward you.

"Ezekiel Reyes".

You considered his hand for a moment, slipping it into your own as your eyes racked him with all the subtlety you could muster. It mustn't have been enough because that innocent friendly smile he gave you had turned into something more knowing. He knew you were checking him out but he didn't mind much. "Y/N".

His thumb skimmed the back of your hand just before letting go, turning his attention to attaching the cables to both cars properly. You minded his movements with the cables closely, triple checking the order in which he connected them with a hawks eye, a concentrated intensity that your dear old Charger RT deserved. Abruptly then, like the quickness of a blink or some single strike of lightning, a thought came to you. "Wait, not Reyes as in Carniceria Reyes?"

"Yeah it's my pops shop",

"Felipe's a real sweet guy. It's not everyday you can look through a deep book collection while the butcher cuts up your dinner". You paused, giving the beauty of his face another glance. "He should've warned me though, never told me both his sons were so handsome".

"You met Angel", he stated, a low dip in his tone. Was it disappointment?

"A couple of weeks ago. He was passing through when I stopped by to pick up somethings. He's a real charmer your brother, but I wouldn't worry. I don't think he's messed up your chances just yet", you flirted.

The assurance produced from him a toothy grin. "I'm not worried".

Silence took ahold of you then, anticipation of the moment charging the pressure in your chest to fall straight to your gut. ‘Please work' you whispered while swinging the door wide to slide into the warm leather of the drivers seat. With the key in the ignition, you twisted your wrist forward, a huff of relief puffing from your chest when the engine roars to life. You close the door quick, that relief bubbling under your skin, your head sticking out the window.

"Thanks again Reyes".

He stepped to the window, those warm endearing eyes taking in the summer glow of your face. His tongue slipped just over the plump flesh of his bottom lip. It was a rosy color, the curving dip of it enticing. He liked the way you said his last name.

"It's no problem".

You put your RT in reverse, backing away from his broad body. "See you around?"

"Maybe", he called.

You speed off, the rev of the engine blending into the ebb and flow of the town once again. Existence dipping into the horizon.

✞✞✞✞✞

You'd saw him again at some hole in the wall you frequented at. The smooth slow tempo of some classic 70s song strumming through the stereo to seep into your ears richly like fresh honey. The atmosphere was subdued, the short clinks of beer bottles and incomprehensible murmurs of frivolous conversations sating the air. It was the perfect place to think, to allow your mind to wander directionless through the never ending abyss of happenings and circumstances that had presented themselves down through the week. You made idle chitchat with the bartender about a laundry list of things of no particular significance, small smiles and light chuckles ringing from you both every now and then.

The night was going good, till you felt a creeping touch just at the low end of your back.

"Let me buy you a drink". The voice was rusted, withered by too much tobacco.

You held up the beer in your hand. "I've got already, I'm good".

This guy was tipsy, blood red creeping into his eyes, body swaying just the slightest bit. "Don't be like that, let me buy you another".

"I said I'm good", you asserted. The coolness of the bottle creating a tingling sensation in your hand. You'd crack it over his head if he touched you again.

"Sorry I'm late, everything alright?", another voice asked, but this one you knew. That deeply textured tone wrapping sweetly around your senses. You tore your irritated gaze set on the almost-drunk guy, softening it as you took Ezekiel in. He looked slightly different, refreshed it seemed, or maybe it was just his barbered hair. A Mayans kutte rested over him, comfortable like a second layer of skin, the black leather accentuating the swell of his muscles. You'd have to figure out later why your eyes diverted to them so often, they were becoming a hindrance to your thinking.

"Everything's good now", you played. Giving him a light peck to the cheek to sell the story. His arm wrapped around you in what appeared to be some reflexive reaction, all natural like he'd done it countless times before. When he realized Ezekiel wasn't leaving, the guy swayed away in true tipsy fashion. Mumbling incoherent things with a griped attitude. Ezekiel took his chair, the proximity of it in regards to yours making the point of his knee knock and slide the smooth plain of your jeans. You watched him take a glance over the bar before he called for a beer.

"Thanks for that".

"No problem", the corner of his lip turning up. "Seems like you've been needing my help a lot lately".

"Don't flatter yourself Reyes, this is just a coincidence".

"Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

Your face screwed up in a show of confusion, but you could guess quickly the reason for the question. "Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

He sipped at his beer. "Outside gets loud sometimes y'know, hectic. It's quiet in here. Good place to think".

"Exactly".

"A little unsafe for you though no?" And there it was.

"Everywhere's unsafe for me Ezekiel, I'm a woman. I mean I couldn't guarantee safety in my own home if I wanted to, but that's just how the world works". You paused, mischief rising in your face. "Don't worry though, I've got a little surprise for anyone who wants to test their luck".

"Oh really".

"Yeah, you men are dangerous out here. I gotta be prepared always".

His brows furrowed. "That's a bit of a big generalization to make".

"But if it's true it's true. Name one thing a man doesn't get dangerous about. Doesn't even have to be rejection", you say, turning to fully face him.

He considers the question for a moment, staring into the color of your eyes as if he'd find the answer in them. "Love".

"A man who loves, whose in love, would do any and everything, no matter how mad the shit is. He'd risk lives, his life even. If that's not dangerous then I don't know what is".

A speck of something lit in the hazel of his eyes. As if your words had brought to the present some memory buried deep within the grave of his soul. What you said hit rather close, closer than expected. "Who is she?"

"Doesn't matter, it's in the past".

"Humor me".

His jaw ticked before he spoke. "Her names Emily, but that shits all just history now. Doesn't matter". He turned the focus from himself. "What about you. Whose going all reckless about you".

"Who says he exist"

"You just did, I never specified who in particular".

So much for playing dumb. "His name is Jason".

"Sounds like an asshole".

You snort, the teasing of a headache coming as you thought on the insufferable man that was Jason. "He is. He's got that weird alpha male thing about him. Has to be in control of everything, doesn't know when to leave well enough alone".

The muted energy of the bar rose between the two of you, each taking quiet sips of your beer. You took notice of the way he surveyed the room from where he sat. That golden gaze sifting through the space and over bodies with quick ease. He was assessing, the gears in his head turning, calculating and considering every and all the possibilities of danger. It reminded you of someone.

"How long were you in for?", you ask.

"How'd you know?"

"You've been on the defensive since you sat down, lookin’ everywhere like someone's gonna up and shank you for no reason. My cousin was the same way when he got out, always looking over his shoulder". You shrugged. "Grew out of it eventually.

His eyes were a bit sullen, as if the truth would scare you. "Eight years".

"He was in for fifteen, and that prison shit is unbelievable, I mean the stories he's told me are crazy". You laugh suddenly at a memory, the resonance of it making him smile in admiration of the sound. "He did this thing for a while when he got home where he'd only have one knife, one fork and one spoon in his kitchen and I swear it was the funniest shit".

The smile falters, his body shifting awkwardly in the bar stool, embarrassed. 

"Oh my God Reyes don't tell me you've been doing the same thing".

"In my defense I live alone".

"But what if you have a special guest over, you'd be a sorry ass host", you tease.

"If you wanted to have dinner with me then just say that".

You force away the heat daring to rise in your cheeks. "We have to take a trip to home goods before I even consider a dinner with you”.

You both give hearty laughs, till the vibration in your pocket pulls your focus. With a quick slip of your phone, you realize how fast time had gone on. “Shit I gotta go, but it was real nice seeing you again Ezekiel".

"It was good seeing you too".

You press your hand against his patch, laying a sweet lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Make it home in one piece for me yeah".

"I have to. You might need me again".

"I'm counting on it".

✞✞✞✞✞

You were a joke it seemed, the universe and fate in a gaming mood, as they were using you as a source for their own amusement. Commissioning their faithful associate to do the heavy lifting of masking their scents. The two of you were at the right place, at the right time again, what a damn coincidence. Before the present week, you'd never even seen Ezekiel's face, just learning of his existence a week or so before that, and now you'd seen him twice in a matter of days. This night being the third.

He was surrounded by men who donned the same kutte as him, curious eyes swimming through the sea of bodies as they did in every other setting, till they met yours. He came to you without a second thought, eyeing the tight leather of your pants and how they clung to your thighs. The cropped cut of your vintage top revealing skin he longed to touch. Since the first time he saw you his mind raced with thoughts of your voice, visions of your lips touching his skin again, plaguing his body with the desire to have you.

You stepped away from your group of friends, meeting him half way. "You're just stalking me at this point. Not that I mind".

He clutched the openings of his kutte, that signature grin lighting his face, even with the casting over of the nights darkness. "Something told me I'd see you again. How's your RT?"

"Good, resting in my garage. I've been kinda scary about replacing the battery".

"Why?"

"I'm good with cars don't get me wrong, but something about fucking it up just makes me sick. It's a lot of history behind that car. I don't wanna destroy it".

"Understandable", he nodded. Noting the caution behind your words, the way you spoke with such passion and care about the thing you loved. It was endearing.

The heavy crunch of gravel and sand tore through the beginnings of some silent stare, an undeniable enticement brewing. It was Angel.

"I see you met this asshole already", the older Reyes said.

"I'm not an asshole Angel, just 'cause I turned you down".

He sent a smirk your way. "You didn't turn me down, we made a mutual decision that you couldn't handle me remember?"

"Right. That's exactly how it went".

A call sounded through the dewy air of the night, signifying the start of a race. You started toward a cherry red car.

"That's me", you said. In regards to the call.

Ezekiel was confused, intrigued. "You racing?"

"Yeah, the mustang", you called, strutting over to your 1970's Mustang, adding the slightest dip to your hips. Giving the brothers something to admire, before dropping low into the leather seats.

With a quick twist, the mustang roared to life, the rumble tearing through the air, growling like a fierce rolling thunder through hazy storm clouds. Another car pulled up on your right, the blue electric color of it dazzling, clashing against the fine cherry red of your own to deliver a sweet contrast for the eyes that watched on in excitement. A woman, with a dangled bandana in her hand, set herself between your car and the other, whistles of admiration thrown her way as she gave the summer evening crowd an alluring smile. At the point of her finger you revved your engine, adrenaline pumping through your veins, rushing from your chest to pulse under your skin. The leather feel of the steering wheel was smooth, the grip you held to it steady. With the downward pull of her hands she set both cars to race and you pulled your mustang swift into the night.

The road before you was a muddled darkness, the outward spreading glow of your headlights stabbing it and tearing it apart as your wheels took a glide against the smooth road. At the mark line, you shifted your car into reverse, whipping left, back into drive, soaring back down the road to where the crowd watched and waited. Their rigid bodies of anticipation lit by your headlights, bellowing screams waning under the busting sound of your revving engine. Your mustang tore through the finishing mark, the tingle of victory surging through you.

Pulling back up to the crowd, you rolled your window down, a slim roll of hundreds placed in your hand by the guy who’d set the race up. You showed up to win and now you were done.

Ezekiel and Angel were a little ways away from your car, your voice carrying over to them. "A little party at my place. You and your guys are cool to come".

They both nodded, heading to their bikes when Angel answered after you. "We'll follow you".

Ezekiel swung his leg, resting on the seat of his bike as he buckled the helmet over his head, his fingers gripping the ape hangers, feeling the vibration of the engine as he followed the sleek vibrant red of your car. The afternoon he met you, he'd been turmoiled, plagued with the natural uncertainties that came with being a member of the MC. That new patch stitched into the upper corner of his kutte had bought a sense of pride and belonging he hadn't felt in forever, it gave him drive, fueled his determination, but as the saying goes, all that glitters is not good. Expectation deceived him, the reality of all things made clear. And that reality was shoveling makeshift graves for men whose names he couldn't even remember, but he remembered yours. Committed himself to it like the loving kiss he gave to the jar that held the remnants of his mother every time he stepped a foot into his fathers house.

He found you flustered, out of yourself with anxiety in the dimming light of the afternoon, and then at the bar, body rigid, eyes wired and ready to do your worst to a guy who could barely keep his posture straight, and now he was following behind you, backing his bike toward the sidewalk that laid just in front your home.

Upon entry, the knock of the speakers bled a thumping bass that pulsated through the floors. Your home had seemed to expand with every new corner that came into view, the walls pushing back to make room for the swell and scatter of bodies. Sweet smells mixed with more pungent ones, the hazy aroma of weed slipping past him as he walked further into the house. A hand placed itself at his side. It was you.

"Can I get you a drink? A beer or something".

"Yeah a beer is cool".

You intertwined your fingers with his, leading him to the kitchen where the sound settled some. Beer bottles clinked, the air releasing as you opened them, handing one over to him.

He gave a quiet "thanks" before sipping, eyeing the way your lips wrapped around the top of the bottle to taste the liquid. They looked soft, full and alluring. He redirected his gaze before the temptation overtook him to do something impulsive that had the prospect of unnerving you. His eyes flitted to the side of your face, an illustration about two inches or so etched into your skin. He hadn't noticed it till now.

You could feel him staring as you tasted the beer, the heat of it tingling your skin. "It's a dagger".

He reached forward, thumb skimming over the finely crafted design, it was a professionals work. With the simple touch of his thumb, your nerves were riling, heat rushing to pulse under your skin, he could feel it. It drew him closer, lured him in. "Did it hurt?".

"Like hell, but when you've felt more painful shit, tattoos like this don't really compare". You lifted the hem of your top some, bringing his fingers to feel the raised skin there. Four inches or so worth of a healed gash rested under his considerate touch. "Got it when I spent a year and a half inside. Grand theft", you admitted.

The reasoning behind telling him wasn't sound in the slightest bit, but what was reasoning when Ezekiel had awakened such dormant feelings inside you. With those beautiful, sunny colored eyes and the warm hand caressing your side, you were liable to tell everything. Truths you hated and dark secrets that laid deep inside your past. You reached up to lay a kiss to those pouty lips, the feel of them mesmeric, dazing. Fulfillment burdened itself onto you, finally you'd got a taste of that rosy pink bottom lip, and now your body was calling for more. Begging for it with such longing that you licked your way through his mouth, his tongue acting in kind. It was slow and all consuming, his body pressing you into the counter to surround you.

"Come with me", your voice airy. Breathless. You lead him to the back of the house. Your room first on the right. A gasp left you when your feet left the floor, body in his arms as he laid you against the fresh feel of the sheets. You kicked your shoes off with ease but the discarding of other pieces left behind a sinking feeling, a pressure forming in your chest to push down straight into your gut. He was glorious, the plains of his skin bound by rich thick tanned muscles and long veins. The dilation of his pupils darkened the air around him, physique imposing. This is what you’d wanted, Why were you feeling so anxious all of a sudden?

"What's wrong?"

Your body had raced miles ahead of your mind and now you were trying to catch up. "I don't know, I just... I feel..."

"Nervous".

"It's sounds so stupid when you say it out loud".

"But it's not, It's natural, and I'll do whatever you want me to do. Whatever makes you feel comfortable baby".

He sounded so sure of it, it made you believe him. You laid against the pillows, beckoning him with the outstretch of your fingers. "C'mere".

He obeyed, body atop yours, your legs wrapping loosely around his waist as your head tilted up to give those lips another kiss. It was messy this time, fueled by desperation, your tongues slow to lick as they tasted each other's. The remnants of beer still there. He took hold of your lip, sharp teeth pulling before he kissed his way down to the heated flesh of your neck. There he sucked, bombarding your skin with pressure causing your hips to grind against the coarse fabric of his jeans. The thin cotton layer of your underwear leaving you to erupt with a fresh wave of need. He feathered kisses down your body, pushing your legs up and apart to open yourself for him. A shudder drove down your spine, that soft wide tongue of his licking so close to where you needed him. He peeled away your underwear leaving you bare before him.

"Talk to me baby. What do you need".

You could hear the pulse of your heart in your ears. "Take care of me Ezekiel, make me feel good".

He hummed, loving the airiness of your voice. So drenched with need for him you were. He was methodical despite the desire boiling in his blood threatening to burn through his skin, so he'd settled with toying with you for now. Giving that sweet glistening clit teasing licks. They were measured, the constraint of them existing solely to wreck you, to kill your resolve completely till you were reduced to in-apprehensible words filled with air. The wide-ness of his tongue felt so good, your nails running over the faded part of his head as your hips drew tight circles.

The teasing, the game of it all. He didn't know but you loved it so much. "That feels so good baby, so good", you praised.

Your words were disembodied, wandering in another plain of existence as they rolled off your lips. Your senses were bursting at the seems, and then reborn again to erupt on impact when he sucked against your sensitive nub, lapping your slick salaciously. As if he'd been starved for years, only just finding you now. The line of your spine arched, waist swiveling, grinding to meet his wet tongue. A low "fuck" fell in the air as your felt the rise of your impending release. With taut, rough fingers he hooked at the back of your knees, pushing them into the sheets. The action opened you completely to him, no choice but to surrender to his will and the feel of his lips as he drew you closer to the edge.

"Please, I'm so close", you whimpered. Vision splotchy, thump in your ears intensifying.

He sucked at you again, holding his lips still as your body shook. Quivering against the sheets. He reverted back to soft licks, tasting as you rode the high.

He rose when you settled, eyeing the heavy rise and fall of your chest as he did away with his jeans. "You Ok?"

It took you time to register the question but when you did, you threw a pillow at him. "You just sucked the soul out of me, don't ask me that damn question".

He laughed, watching your eyes dim in bliss. You hadn't noticed, but he'd done away with his underwear as well, the weight of him causing the bed to dip as he came up to where you laid. His thick fingers rolled you over, setting your face to rest against the pillows as your hips raised in the air to rest against the hot flesh of his length, the veined skin laying along your slit. You moaned in anticipation, pushing back against him.

He gripped your cheeks, spreading them to see the quivering flesh of your opening, the flushed pink shinning in the dim light of the room. His tongue slipped against his bottom lip again, reveling in the taste of you as he pushed in. He groaned, and you gave a single fleeting "yes" , the thickness of him giving a delicious stretch, rigid length hot as he pushed and pulled in and out of your depths in a slow manner. Wanting to test the waters same as he did moments ago before building you back up again. The squeeze of you made his chest tight, head swimming with delirium.

"You feel so good mama, so tight around me", he groaned.

His thrust were dizzying as they picked up to set a steady pace, your hips rolling and pushing to take him deeper. To reach that place in you that would force your vision to blur and be replaced by disfigured stars. You reach to lay a finger at your overstimulated bundle of nerves, rubbing the soft slick flesh with lazy pleasuring circles that spurred the knot in your gut to grow. A single tear fell to dampen the pillow, your depths tightening at how full you felt, at how unrelenting the stimulation of his strokes were.

The sharp drive of his hips made you go rigid, the vice like grip you formed around him causing him to fall into his own high. Pace going all slow sloppy to ride out the blissful feeling.

He pulled from you, both your body and his collapsing against the bed. His face formed with satisfaction, a beautiful buzz running through him. "You know what this means right?"

"What", you asked.

"We’ll have to see each other around more often now".

[a-pirate]

This just in: Local street kid most precious thing to hit Night City in 89 years.

Christopher "Kit" Salcedo ("Gatito" to Mama Welles, and Mama Welles only.)

Yelena Salcedo was someone who worked at Biotechnica for her entire corporate career. By the time she became a mid-tier employee with some minor power, she found herself single and wanting children. Instead of looking for a random sperm donor, she realized her place and privilege at BT could allow her to get choosy and use any DNA from any person she wanted. She chose Kerry Eurodyne. She got the DNA, she didn't say how. She didn't tell anyone whose it was, either, but ended up spending half her life savings paying technicians to keep quiet when the computer ID'd him. Two failed attempts and a year and a half later, Kit was born August 3rd, 2053.

Five years later (2058), Yelena lost her position at Biotechnica -- whereupon she spent the rest of her life savings escaping the corporations clutches to save her own life and avoid her son being "repossessed as company property." The next several years were spent jumping from odd job to odd job, the two moving from apartment to slumhole and sometimes even the street to stay alive. During the lowest points, Yelena considered suing Eurodyne for child support (since Kit had the DNA to technically prove paternity), but never did due to the resources at the rock star's disposal and fear things would truly end with her losing her son.

When she became a joytoy (2066), she managed to find some tentative success and enough stability to get a small apartment. While they would be glued to each other's sides whenever they had the chance, Yelena would end up gone for days on end due to the nature of her career, and so Kit would run wild in Night City. He'd skip school, make friends, pick fights, learn how to steal, and have the city memorized from Northside to Santo Domingo by the time he was fifteen.

Yelena disappeared (2068), and disappeared for good, a few months before Kit's fifteenth birthday. Since she had connections to the newly formed Mox, he went to them first in hopes of finding her. That didn't get him much, however, beyond a few spare couches and cots when his apartment's landlord immediately kicked him out of the building.

A few years later (2071), a now standoffish, capable, and still couch surfing Kit started hanging around El Coyote Cojo, mostly doing small jobs for Kirk Sawyer and Padre Ibarra, often as a techie and car runner -- almost getting himself killed on multiple occasions until he made friends with the bar's owner, Guadalupe Welles, and subsequently her son, Jackie Welles. They all but adopted him, Kit becoming like a younger son and little brother. Although Kit’s life didn’t change drastically, it definitely changed for the better as he worked with Jackie when he could and spent the rest of his time helping around El Coyote Cojo.

In early 2077, Jackie brought around a new down-on-their-luck friend, V. Kit was initially distrustful of the ex-corpo, but a good smack to the back of the head by Jackie changed that. The three soon became an efficient edgerunning trio, but Kit never got along with the occasional fourth addition, T-Bug, no matter how hard Jackie and V tried to convince him. Still, T-Bug giving the other two the job of a lifetime, a heist against megacorporation Arasaka, while specifically excluding him on the basis of “crowding...” It stung. He helped with a bit of the preparation, most notably a deal with Maelstrom, but then disappeared from them, sulking for days for being kept out of the job.

Upon hearing of Jackie’s death from Mama Welles, he tried contacting V, only to spend weeks sending voicemails and unread messages. They didn’t reconnect until Jackie’s ofrenda, where V told him everything, including the situation with Johnny Silverhand. He wouldn’t be left out this time. This time, he was going to be in the loop and he was going to help V solve this problem. He even gave cover whenever V forgot to not talk out loud to Johnny.

In Val Vega's canon, he's killed during the Shiv attack on the Aldecaldos when Val and Panam are playing with the panzer. In Erik Kennedy's canon... we shall see.

[rose-tea-books]

my tbr:

please please please recommend more books! i literally don’t care about the genre just give me recs

(for some reason it’s mainly newly published ya books which is cool but not most of the type of books i read and it’s in random order)

The Hawthorne Legacy

The Gilded Ones

Little White Lies

Not My Problem

The Girl Least Likely

It All Comes Back To You

All These Bodies

Loveboat Reunion

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles

Every Heart a Doorway

Middlegame

Accidental Turn series

I Killed Zoe Spanos

Snowed In

Six Angry Girls

The Once and Future Witches

Between Shades of Gray

Hunting Prince Dracula

Love and Other Train Wrecks

Heiress Apparently

The Truth Project

Crown Chasers

Geekerella

Cinder

Save Steve

Neverworld Wake

What I Like About You

Girls Save the World on This One

The Gilded Wolves

13 Little Blue Envelopes

The Last Little Blue Envelope

This Will Be Funny Someday

The Box in the Woods

The Key to the Firebird

All the Light We Can Not See

Beautiful Wild

Roman and Jewel

Sources Say

The Best Lies

The Companion

None Shall Sleep

Instant Karma

I’d Tell You I Love You, but Then I’d Have to Kill You

Faith

The Quantum Weirdness of the Almost-Kiss

Like Home

Yolk

Once Upon a Quinceañera

The Cost of Knowing

Zara Hossain is Here

Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet

Witches Steeped in Gold

What’s Not to Love

Where Secrets Lie

The Forest of Stolen Girls

Down With This Ship

The Ivies

Of Curses and Kisses

The Jewel

The White Rose

The Black Key

The Stars We Steal

Let Me Hear a Rhyme

Fireworks

The Girl with the Red Balloon

Redemption Prep

Punching the Air

Lobizona

This Train is Being Held

Don’t Ask Me Where I’m From

This is All Your Fault

The Mall

Clique Bait

Butterfly Yellow

Lies Like Poison

We Are Still Tornadoes

The How and the Why

A Constellation of Roses

The Lady’s Guide To Petticoats and Piracy

The Yearbook Committee

Sisters of Sword and Song

Passenger

A Song Below Water

The Bone Witch

Chain of Gold

Frozen Beauty

A Phoenix First Must Burn

Moment of Truth

I Believe In a Thing Called Love

Pride

Don’t Date Rosa Santos

By Your Side

Every Other Weekend

Starry Eyes

Honor Among Thieves

Tweet Cute

A Thousand Splendid Suns

And The Mountains Echoed

Lucky Caller

The Betrothed

On the Come Up

Mexican Gothic

Deadpool

Time of Our Lives

Girl, Serpent, Thorn

Unpregnant

Red Hood

Illuminae

Jane Anonymous

Gone by Nightfall

Suggested Reading

I’ll Be the One

All the Pretty Things

The Paper Girl of Paris

The Survival List

The Hate U Give

Frankenstein

Children of Virtue and Vengeance

The Damned

Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry

Counting Down With You

Where the Rhythm Takes You

Lucy Clark Will Not Apologize

Last Chance Books

A Sitting in St. James

An Emotion of Great Delight

Sisters of the Snake

If You, Then Me

XOXO

Red Wolf

My Eyes Are Up Here

Girls on the Verge

This Boy

Almost American Girl

Yes No Maybe So

Saints and Misfits

Parachutes

Lovely War

The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes

With the Fire on High

We Are the Wildcats

Loveboat, Taipei

All of this is True

Murder Trending

One of Us Is Lying

Children of Blood and Bone

The Wrath and the Dawn

The Upside of Falling

The Rose and the Dagger

The Beautiful

The Flame in the Mist

The Smoke in the Sun

The Selection

The Elite

The One

The Heir

The Crown

A Matter of Souls

Light It Up

All Your Twisted Secrets

Truly Devious

The Vanishing Stair

The Hand On the Wall

Charming as a Verb

Grown

With Malice

I’m Not Dying With You Tonight

The Life and Medieval Times of Kit Sweetly

Cheshire Crossing

The Raven Boys

My Almost Flawless Tokyo Dream Life

The Good Luck Girls

The Diviners

One of Us is Next

A Study in Charlotte

The Last of August

Clap When You Land

Warcross

Stalking Jack the Ripper

American Royals

Majesty

The Inheritance Games

Cousins

Sadie

The Good Luck Girls

Clockwork Angel

Clockwork Prince

Chain of Gold

Recommended For You

If I Tell You the Truth

You Have A Match

Happily Ever Afters

What Kind of Girl

Six of Crows

This Poison Heart

Love From A to Z

Blue Bloods

Good Girl’s Guide to Murder

(these aren’t all the books i’ve ever read, just the ones i remembered to note down since i started this list last year lol)