#moreno family traditions

[omlwhatamidoinghere]

Apple or Pecan?

Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Summary: Spending the holidays with the Moreno Family is always a treat, especially when you find out all the details about Marcus when he was a kid during Thanksgiving lunch

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Pure fluff and Marcus being a flirt

A/N: This was requested of me about a year ago and I feel terrible that I never got around to do it. But with Thursday having been Thanksgiving, what better time than to do this now. This is for you, darling @lovelypastel2532

"Mijo, it is one of my favorites! It's tradition that I tell the story!"

It's time. The annual Moreno Family Thanksgiving picnic lunch. Anita and Marcus are in charge of the turkey and mashed potatoes while you and Missy take care of the stuffing, gravy, and cranberry sauce. You've been a part of this tradition for a few years now while dating Marcus, then as his fiancée, and, this year, his wife. Every year, you hear different stories of family traditions, stories that make you cry, of sadness and happiness, but one story seems to have slipped past you.

"Mamá Moreno, who is making the pies?" You ask as you come to the realization that not one of you pulled out the dessert ingredients. Anita chuckles and turns to her son, "Marcus, you could make the pies if you'd like, unless we're gonna have a repeat of-"

"Mom, please do NOT tell that story."

Marcus and his mother going back and forth like this is a daily occurrence, but this time, the conversation caught your attention.

"What story?" The making of Thanksgiving lunch halts dead in its tracks. The multiple sets of endearing brown eyes, once focused on the protein and carbs of the lunch before them, snap to you. Missy chimes in, eagerness bursting a smile across her face, "You've never heard THE story? The story of how my dad-"

"Missy Moreno, what did I just say?"

"But Dad!"

"What story?"

An embarrassed shade replaces Marcus' tan complexion, "Um..no-no story. There's no story"

"Dad, she's GOTTA know!!"

Anita wipes her hands of turkey with some paper towels, "You know how Marcus enjoys baking? Well it's the story of how he got his start"

"Ten piedad de mí, Mamá, por favor"

"Déjame hablar, mijo. Anyways, he was only 5 years old when I finally let him start helping me bake the desserts for Thanksgiving. Marcus always wanted to learn how to bake apple pie and pecan pie so he decided to try and bake them at the same time. He did it all by himself! The counter was filled with dishes, flour, and sugar, a mess he eventually cleaned up. When it came time to take the pies out of the oven, I noticed there was only one on the rack."

Your head drifted to find the heavy glare, "What happened to the other pie, Marcus?"

"You don't wanna know"

"Marcus"

"Cariño"

"What did you forget to do?"

"It's more what he DID do" Anita teases as she and Missy attempt to hold back their laughter. "Mom, it's fine. I'll tell her" his large hand pushes his glasses out of the way as he rubs his eyes in preparation "There wasn't a second pie because....I put the pecan pie filling and apple pie filling in the same pie."

His words had barely finished passing his plush lips before you, along with the other two Moreno women, erupted into laughter. You walked over to Marcus, whose face still burned bright red, and wrapped your arms around his neck, "Babe, you don't need to be embarrassed. I think that is absolutely adorable!" That gorgeous smirk of his decorated his face, accompanied by the sweet laugh rumbling from his chest, "It is pretty funny, isn't it? But I think you're more adorable than that story..." He takes his finger and dollops a little bit of mashed potatoes on your nose. "Ewww Dad! Save that for when I'm not here"

"Mija, you'll understand when you fall in love"

Missy walks away as she dramatically gags, making all of you laugh even more. "I think I'll let you two be while this cooks. Behave, Marcus." Anita following Missy's lead. Turning back to your beloved husband, "So, which pie would you like? I'll help. Which is your favorite?" His smirk becomes a little more devious "Well, you're my favorite..." you take your turn to blush, both of you giggling at each other before sharing a kiss, the potatoes coming off on Marcus' face.

"Apple pie or pecan pie?"

"Both"

[pinovapie]

DRDT Talent Swap again

This time with SDR2!! Direct spoilers for sdr2!!!

Teruko Tawaki -> Ultimate Nurse

(huh, a less se*ualised Mikan-)

Xander Matthews -> Ultimate Mechanic

(i could definitely see him being a mechanic-)

Charles Cuevas -> Ultimate Photographer

("Jeez!" and "Are you stupid?" already feel similar)

Whit Young -> Ultimate Prince

(he would absolutely be slacking off on 'princely duties' , he could not be an ultimate)

Min Jeung -> Ultimate Traditional Dancer

(hm. idk if i can see Min being a dancer of any kind...)

Rose Lacroix -> Ultimate Lucky Student

(she doesn't get caught and continues making money for her family whilst owning her own art. happy ending. yay)

Eden Tobisa. -> Ultimate Yakuza

(hahaha short yakuza yet again-)

David Chiem -> Ultimate Imposter

(........ this is really funny...)

Arei Nageishi -> Ultimate Swordswoman

(.... the Arden shippers are eating well i guess.. No but she could definitely have this talent-)

J Moreno -> Ultimate Musician

(she's musical yet again-)

Arturo Giles -> Ultimate Cook

(...... Idk what to say here...)

Veronika Grebenshchikova -> Ultimate ???

(yet again she's hit with a ???)

Ace Markey -> Ultimate Breeder

(hahaha he can't escape animal related talents,, rip,, he's breeding race horses now or smth i guess??)

Levi Fontana -> Ultimate Gymnast

(based on his agility in the prologue, i could see it)

Hu Jing -> Ultimate Team Manager

("team mom" or somthing,,, that's not really a phrase where i'm from,,, "team mum" just sounds weird in my mind,,,)

Nico Hakobyan -> Ultimate Gamer

(cat ear headphones... they'd play that one game,, Stray?? The one with the cat!! Maybe Cat tails? Is that what it's called?? Idk anymore??)

[chronically-ghosted]

Have Yourself a Moreno Little Christmas

rating: T

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

word count: 6K

summary: when the Morenos' happy Christmas is in jeopardy, you think quick and invite them on a trip to an old family tradition. If he’s grateful, would it be safe to tell him how you feel? But why do you think he might already know? What if he feels the same way?

warnings: heavily influenced by the movie While You Were Sleeping, your typical amount of angst for a romcom, mutual pining, ballet in the park, a moody pre-teen, brief discussions of losing a loved one (parent/partner), bad dad jokes, canoodling in the park, one steamy kiss and a few other softer ones

a/n: Happy Secret Santa @noisynaia! You had Marcus M as your number one Pedro boy of choice, and given that I’d never written for him before, I wanted to do something wholesome and sweet in the world of super heroes. The Nutcracker has always been near and dear to me so I hope you like this take on it! @pedrostories

This will be my last fic of 2023 so - much love, stay warm, and happy holidays! 🤍Masterlist

What do you get a man who has everything for Christmas? A tie? A money clip? Something aggressively manly that smells like woodsmoke, patchouli oil, and the raw sweat of a lumberjack after felling a thousand forests?

What do you get a superhero for Christmas? Indestructible tights? A decorative plaque for his swords? A life-time supply of gauze and iodine? 

What do you get for your boss, superpowered and single, with the ability to turn a paperclip into a rose? A silver ball into a flat pancake? Decorative swords into deadly weapons? What do you get him that is even remotely useful or exciting or heartwarming when he is so busy with being a single father and mentor, a symbol and an icon, all while running the world’s foremost superhero operation? 

Somehow, “world’s best boss” mug feels rather . . . subpar. 

What do you get him if he’s become one of your closest friends? When you try to wiggle some sort of information out of him about a potential gift on one of the many long nights where you’re stuck together doing paperwork for the UN and the NSA – but he is annoyingly vague. 

His daughter – a fiery mix of headstrong and thoughtful, soothed by a loving kindness that clearly runs in the family – is no help. She teases you with promises “oh yeah, definitely get him a new spatula” when you both know the man has never been anywhere near a BBQ grill. You give her the rest of the Reeses that didn’t make it into the community candy bowl anyway. 

You can’t ask for ideas from his mother, or his teammates, the security guards at the headquarter doors, anyone with eyes (who’s not ten years old) because then they’ll know, you sure of it. They’ll see and that’s just not something you can ever, ever, ever bring up because . . . 

What do you get for a man who is your boss, a superhero, a leader, a father, your boss, a very close friend, your boss, someone you very much admire . . . and as a result, have fallen deeply, painfully, achingly in love with?

Your still beating heart on a silver platter seems like the obvious choice. A bowl of your tears for unrequited love is a definitely strong second option. A lock of your hair so the FBI can easily identify you as his certifiably insane stalker – there we go, brilliant idea. 

A kiss under the mistletoe? A promise for more? 

That damned mug is looking better and better every day.

You knock three times, then one more before opening the door. Behind unnecessarily thick glasses, Marcus glances up, life returning to his face when his eyes fall on you.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the president of Belize is on line one for you.” 

The man with sticky, molded blonde hair sitting across from Marcus turns around and smiles. His teeth are freakishly white, all stacked together in tight, proper rows. His suit, freshly pressed and clean of any evidence of interaction with the world, carries a giant button on the lapel: Vote Tine!

“President of Belize, my, my, Mr. Moreno, you are a busy man!”

Marcus stands, his gaze peeling off you to the politician in front of him. “Mr. Tine, I apologize, but I have to cut this meeting short–,”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all!” He stands, batting his hand through the air. “Just as long as we’ll see you at the next rally, right, Marcus?” 

He holds out a perfectly square hand and with a tight-lipped grin, Marcus shakes Tine’s hand. 

“We’ll see, Senator.”

“Wonderful, wonderful, alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Mr. Moreno . . .” he bows slightly before turning in the direction of the door. You catch a glimpse of him the instant the smarmy smile slides off his face as, with wolf-ish eyes, he evaluates you from your ankles to the candy-cane broach on your chest. You don’t smile as you shut the door after him – as if you’d be bothered by greasy politicians and their wandering eyes. 

Marcus all but slumps back in his chair before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“Every time election season comes around, they all want the Heroics’ vote. Until Miracle Guy chucks Dr. Evil through the Empire State Building and suddenly it’s ‘we need these vigilantes off our streets’ . . .” He shakes his head and slips his glasses back on, watching as you take the vacated seat. “Sorry, none of this is your problem. What does the president of Belize want?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you say, tapping the corner of your pad with your stylus, “his slogan sucks. Justine Tine – just in time. I’m not unconvinced he didn’t change his name for the sake of a cheesy one-liner.” 

A small smile cracks open the dreary look on Marcus’s face. His eyes flicker to the door. “Seems like the type, doesn’t he? I think you’re onto something.” 

“So that’s item one, for the day.” You stand, curling your pad into your arms, you lean on Marcus’s desk, knee against the edge. 

He stares intently at your face. 

“Number two, I just checked our records and there’s no Dr. Evil anywhere in our data banks. The Empire State building is safe, for now, so you can stop worrying about that.” 

You mime-checking off something on your pad and the grin on Marcus’s face softens. 

“And number three . . .” you pick up the phone on his desk, that suspiciously doesn’t have any blinking red lights. Marcus frowns, noticing this for the first time, when you lift up the receiver and drop it down. His mouth parts.

“Belize has a monarchy. A king, not a president.” 

The frown deepens. You wait. And light parts the sky. 

“Oh. Oh – you didn’t – that’s – really?”

His eyes are round, wide, relieved, and you want nothing more than to run your hands through those curls. To rub those broad shoulders loose of their tension. But rearranging meetings and make up fake world leaders to give him a break is the best you can do. 

“Yes, really. The Heroics are prepared to make a sizable donation to Tine’s cause, and he will thank us at his next rally. So, Mr. Moreno, your next meeting isn’t for another hour, how would you like to spend it?” You smile, tapping your hanging shoe on the ball of your foot. “I suggest using it to eat something. Have you eaten anything today?” 

Marcus sighs, eyes falling shut for just a moment. “What, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, would I do without you?” 

You avert your eyes before the heat in your cheeks climbs too high, his eyes on you, and you hop off his desk. 

“Would you, hmm,” you clear your throat, your voice cracking in half, “would you like me to order something and have it delivered, Mr. Moreno?” 

He’s chewing on the skin below his lip when you raise your head from the pad in your arms. Being indestructible is one thing; having his face entirely inscrutable is one of Marcus’s most impressive superpowers. He nods, the look of distant contemplation gone. He flips through a few of the notes you’ve left him on his desk – calls to return, items for next week, reports he needs to sign: busy work. 

“Yeah, uh, that’s great. Pick something up for yourself too.” 

The mood has soured and you’re not quite sure how or why it happened. A second ago Marcus looked like he was going to pick you up and twirl you around the room. Now, he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You nervously tap your stylus against your pad. 

“Yes, Mr. Moreno.” 

You turn to go, his head down, his gaze fixated on whatever isn’t you, when he calls out your name again.

“Oh, um, did you manage to get anything out of Missy abour what she wants for Christmas when she was here last Friday?” 

You pause, remembering the uncharacteristically morose girl spinning listlessly in your chair while you watched from the break room as the hot cocoa warmed up in the microwave. You’d never seen so much as a pout on the girl before and no matter what you did, she didn’t crack a single smile.

“No, she didn’t tell me anything, but . . .” Now this is the part of your job that you loathe the most: trying to figure out the line. You saw Marcus as a friend, absolutely, but it’s not like you went and played volleyball on the beach with him, or went bar-hopping, or whatever it is adults with friends do. You love Missy more than you thought you could ever care about a child who isn’t your own, but you wavered how much to press her on her mood, because how did she see you? Nothing more than her father’s employee, most likely. In the end, you ended up getting one word answers from her until Marcus left his office thirty minutes later. 

But here you go, overstepping boundaries . . .

“Mr. Moreno, is she alright? The last time she was here, she seemed . . . I don’t know, sad?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharpened. You opened your mouth to profusely apologize when –

“Fuck.” Marcus tosses his glasses onto his desk and buries his head in his hands. The instinct to put your arms around him is so strong you take a step forward before you remember exactly who you are. 

How do you comfort the man you love when you shouldn’t love him at all? How do you comfort a superhero, when he’s a father first and human second?

Keeping the desk firmly between you, you drop your pad onto one of the chairs and as slowly as you dare, you touch his forearm. He leans, not away, but towards you. He lowers his arms as you keep your touch on him. You squeeze once, looking down at his hopeless expression. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen with Missy?”

Marcus shifts his arm beneath your fingers, his fingers twitching, as if he wants to take your hand but instead puts his other hand over yours.

“This Christmas has just been really hard.” 

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them: “tell me.”

He looks up at you, eyes warm and wide in a way that only his can. Indestructible in the face of evil, inscrutable with his secrets, Marcus’s greatest weakness is Missy, and he knows it. You know you’re crossing a dozen professional lines leaning over him like you are, touching him like you are, asking him to open up. But you don’t care.

He presses his lips together, hesitant. He won’t look you in the eye. “You have to understand something first. Missy’s mom loved Christmas.”

His hand over yours tightens gently as if he thinks you’re going to pull away. You hadn’t considered it but your palm went a little damp at the mention of her. 

Oh God, you’ve so played your hand wrong.

Marcus inhales, his gaze on your knuckles. “Isabel, that was her name, and every year Isabel made Christmas this big event. And every Christmas she bought Missy a little nutcracker. Missy was barely out of diapers at the time, I don’t think she even knew what they were, but she loved them. Thought they were the funniest things with their teeth and stuffy white hair . . . but he other day, going through the decoration box, Missy found them all and I guess she suddenly remembered all those Christmases with her mom and she, uh . . .” 

He taps your wrist with his thumb, a tell he has when he’s nervous. The seat squeaks slightly as he adjusts himself in it.

“I haven’t been putting out the nutcrackers that Isabel gave Missy. The Christmas after she died, I couldn’t bring myself to put out any sort of real decorations, except for the tree. Missy was so young, I don’t think she cared. But as she got older, she never asked about the nutcrackers so I hoped she just . . . forgot about them. And she did, until she found them last Friday.”

“Last Friday?” You feel like you’ve been sucking on cotton. “Before she came to the office?”

Marcus nods. 

“Oh, M-Mar-Mr. Moreno, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.” 

“She was furious that I tried to hide something of her mother’s from her. And she’s right. I was a coward.” 

This move is an intentional one. You slip your hand out from his and cup his fingers around yours, as if guiding him. He finally looks up at you, guilt and shame and grief streaking his face like blurry rain against a window pane. 

“You are the bravest man I know, Marcus Moreno. You’re a superhero and a single father. Most people can barely handle one. She’ll come around, I promise.” 

You swallow the urge to bring his knuckles to your lips, and instead squeeze both of his hands and let go. You slide away from the desk, your heart tight in your chest when his thumbs pass over the palm of your hand. The look on his face is disappointed, you want to believe.

“Thank you. For listening and, uh, everything else. You’re right. I’ll just . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll figure something out.” He leans back, elbows on the chair’s handles. Marcus Moreno, or what you know of him, doesn’t like to dwell, so you watch some of the heaviness shift from his eyes the moment he decides to change the subject. “What are you doing for Christmas? Are you staying in town? Going to see family – or a boyfriend?”

The warm in your chest, lingering from his hands, suddenly bolts across your face. “No, no, um, no, there’s no one –,” Would it be pathetic if you fanned yourself with your pad? God, how does the man work in here for hours with no fresh air? “No, I’m not going home to anyone but I am . . .”

And suddenly there it is. A solution to your Christmas present debacle and maybe a way to save Christmas for Missy Moreno.

You shake your head, beating back the rising heat in your cheeks. “Actually, are you and Missy doing anything this weekend?”

Marcus seems taken aback from this sudden turn in the conversation.

“Um, no. I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to show you and Missy something really, really special.” 

You swear the tips of his ears go pink. “Uh, okay. Sure. I-I’ll have to clear it with Missy, but yeah, alright. What time?”

“I’ll put it in your calendar.” You smile and slip your stylus back into your pad. “Have a nice lunch, Mr. Moreno.” 

He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck as you head for the door. 

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me, Marcus? 

You pause with your handle on the door. “At least once more, Mr. Moreno.”

The mug drops to last place.

Good news. 

If you’re ever stranded on a desert island, you’ll survive because you are already intimately familiar with the taste of your own foot in your mouth.

Why did you open with “Hey Missy, your dad tells me you’ve been having a rough Christmas?” to a sullen, grieving pre-teen? 

And can time actually go slower, when the air is so stifled with tension? When you’re absolutely sure you’re breathing too loud?

You’ve been glancing at Missy in the rear view mirror for the dozenth time in twice as many miles. Her face is turned towards the window so you can’t actually see the murderous rage in her eyes, but oh wow do you feel it. Nevermind superpowers, this little girl could char you to a crisp with her eyes alone. Potential step-mom failure award goes to . . . 

“So.” Marcus clears his throat and you tear your eyes back from the back of his daughter’s head. The fraught silence of the car stretches just long enough after Marcus’s statement to grate ever so gently – “um, how do you, uh, know about this place? Wherever, we’re going.” 

You bite the corner of your mouth. Marcus doesn’t appear angry that you’ve soured the mood with Missy before the drive even began. In fact, he looks genuinely curious, the light in his eyes bright. If it weren’t for that single line between his brows, you assume nothing is wrong, but you know that almost frown. Marcus is anxious. 

Great. 

You settle back in your seat, trying to look as relaxed as you can in a pillowy jacket, your hat and gloves in Marcus’s lap, along with his own. The snow outside stopped falling only a few minutes ago, lining the trees and road with a crisp sparkling white. If anything, it ended up being a beautiful day. 

You flex your hand around the steering wheel, trying to summon courage up through your body like your lungs inhale air. 

“It’s an old family tradition, actually. My folks would take us out here every year to watch . . . to watch the show.” You glance at him briefly before checking to see if that piqued anything from the roiling black cloud in the back. It didn’t. You hadn’t told either one of the Morenos your plans for this Christmas day. “But I haven’t been back in a while.”

“Why not? And please don’t say it's because of work.” The lilt in his voice has you looking at him, long enough to watch a small smile uncurl. You really thought it was impossible for Marcus Moreno to get any cuter, but with his woolen floppy cap covering his ears and the little white bob at the end fluttering in the warm heater air, you force yourself to remember you’re driving a 3000 pound metal death machine if you stare, starry-eyed, for too long. 

“No, it’s not because of work,” you grin back and his own crosses completely across his mouth. “It’s not work related . . . but um, after my parents passed away, my brother and sister moved across the country.” Your hands crinkle around the steering wheel. “I’ve spent most of my Christmas’s alone ever since. Coming here without them, i-it felt . . . wrong.”

In the rear view mirror, you think you see her move.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” The weight of Marcus’s gaze, his own planetary gravitational pull, has your nose drawing down then over. He looks genuinely regretful of your situation and you’re suddenly hit with the understanding that not only did Missy lose a mother, but Marcus lost a wife. 

Hell, maybe you can just continue up the bone and eat your whole leg while you’re at it. 

“Mhm hmm.”

The rest of the car right goes on in silence, except for the faint, ghost-like christmas carols playing from the speakers through your phone. 

When you pull off the dirt road and park your car in the cold grass with dozens of other vehicles, you can’t unbuckle fast enough. The patches of icy dead grass snap beneath your boots as you climb out of the car, and you’re struck in the face with a chilly wind. 

The words are on your tongue as you look at him over the hood of the car, the breeze snagging the little puff ball on the end of his cap, his glasses already misting over.

I’m so sorry, Marcus, this was such a bad idea. 

I don’t know how to talk about my grief or anyone else's and it’s been drowning me for years but I don’t want to pull you down with me. 

I’ll drive you anywhere you want I’m so– 

“Is this the Stanley Amphitheater?” Marcus takes off his glasses and rubs the condensation away. “This is where they have that jazz festival every summer, right?”

You’re so surprised by his tone that all you can do is blurt out: “yes.”

“So cool! I’ve actually been dying to check this place out!”

“Y-yeah?”

He smiles at you and you have to grab onto the door frame to keep your knees from buckling. 

“C’mon, Missy.” 

Tugging his hat further over his head, Marcus lopes forward and then he turns and reaches out for his daughter. The moment arcs, Missy’s stone faced glare demanding that he drop his hand, that he turn away from her, an inch away from leaving a mark that aches in a way that only a loving parent can feel from their loved child –

And she takes his hand. 

You watch them follow the crowd, blanket in hand, just a few steps behind them, and you breathe out.

Across the stone amphitheater, a low murmur of dozens of eager voices vibrate in the dugout cup of the earth. Children squirm with anticipation in their parents’ laps, couples share lingering gazes over steaming styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, an air of excitement and delight hovering between chapped lips and knitted gloves as the sun arcs lower in the sky. Just in front of the large stage, a live orchestra prepares, discordant cords breaking and rising like smoke. 

A man in a striped hat sells buttery popcorn and sweet, crunchy kettle corn in a small wooden hut a distance from the theater. A few families wait in line, children teasing one another behind their parents, their laughter light on the breezy air. 

“So, what is this?” Your head whips around at Missy’s first sentence all day. Marcus looks at you equally stunned. The blanket you’ve spread across three laps keeps you intentionally close so you have to lean back slightly to see her face.

“It’s, um–,”

“Missy, do you like ballet?” You ask

Beneath her maroon hat, her eyes lift up, her back straightening from its hunch. You wouldn’t call her look eager, but you cannot deny there’s interest. 

She nods. 

“Well, what we’re about to see is a very special ballet performance. Some people who have powers like your dad, they don’t go into crime fighting. Instead, they use their powers to make art.” 

She blinks, eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” 

The fringe smile is hidden by a curtain of hair as Missy tilts her head down to her shoes, nodding. Marcus glances at you over the wool of her hat, surprise thinning the lines around his eyes.

“It’s getting kind of cold,” he says slowly, to no one in particular. “Anyone want some hot chocolate?”

“I do,” you wave. Missy nods, grumbling. 

Marcus waves over a woman in a striped hat as she wanders through the crowd. The metal box, hanging around her neck and strapped to her back reads, refreshments. 

He pays for three styrofoam cups just as the lights in the back of the amphitheater flicker and the orchestra winds down to silence. 

Despite the burgeoning chill in the air, and despite the grief dividing yet binding the three of you, and despite the fact that this may be your one chance for Marcus to see you as anything other than his assistant, you’re hopeful. Maybe it’s the music itself, that way that music has to ignite your soul when you need it the most, or maybe it’s the spirit of the season, but for the first time in a long, long time, you don’t feel so lonely. In fact, you can’t remember a time you’ve felt more connected than you do with the people next to you. 

Missy’s eyes are bright, flitting around the stage as if determined to not miss a single thing, the cocoa in her hands leaving a dark rim around her mouth that she is blissfully ignorant of. That already full feeling in your chest expands and you want nothing more than to hug her, hug her till she’s warm and hug her till she’s happy. Behind her, her father moves and it catches your eye.

Marcus has never looked at you before the way he is now. Inscrutable, undefined, but it packs such a punch in your chest it feels like you gulped down your entire cup of hot chocolate in one go. You turn away, fearful of what he might see in your eyes, and realize the enormity of what you feel, how it’s all consuming and tugs at you when you least expect it. 

The music begins to swell just as the sun sets and the lights at the rim of the theater fade. You take a shaky inhale – nerves and excitement and memories good and bad weighing on your shoulders. 

And then it begins to snow. 

But not from the sky and it’s not yet cold enough for the consistent sprinkle. Snowflakes tangle with your eyelashes, in the wool of your cap. Then Missy gasps as a translucent ice crystal the size of her palm trickles down into her lap. Glinting like glass, the intricate design of the crystal flashes once before disappearing – not melting – just gone. Around you, other children hold out, giggling their hands as more beautiful flakes of enormous size flutter down from the inexplicable snow drift. A few adults reach out to grab some that burst like bubbles, a wondrous awe crescendoing across the crowd. 

From the wings of the stage, a man and a woman, dressed in beautiful light blues and silvers, silks glittering with inset shimmering stones, walk across the stage, their arms moving slowly, thoughtfully. 

In sync, they coax the air and the snow follows in a dance of white. Delighted shouts rise up as the snow and ice spin together, arcing and weaving, capturing the essence of a winter wind. The pair on stage bend, their hands flung backwards in a bow and the ball of snow shatters in an icy solar flare, the million white flakes fluttering over the crowd. 

Out of the exhilarated murmur that overtakes the crowd, one noise stands out above the rest. 

Missy laughs. She laughs as she watches a snowflake melt on the end of her nose. 

You wish desperately you could squeeze her to you.

The crowd applauds the snow dancers, bowing again before exiting the stage, as a woman in black steps out. Her short-cropped hair is nearly as white as the snow still melting on the ground and her eyes are crinkled at the edges. When she speaks, her voice booms without the aid of a mic. 

“Thank you and welcome to another annual Stanley Kirby production of The Nutcracker.”

Missy’s smile doesn’t fall from her face. In fact it widens. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as you watch her from the corner of your eye.

“I’ve been directing this play for twenty years now and I can honestly say I find something new and beautiful about it every time. Winter is often seen as the end stage, symbolized through literature and poetry as the time when we humans grow old. But I like to think that doesn’t always have to be true. Spirit, however you like to think of it, is exactly that: an endurance, a bravery, a force greater than ourselves that we can either embrace or let slide through our fingers. We hope you leave today with a little bit more spirit in you. Thank you for coming and we hope you enjoy the show.” 

She bows as two men enter in from the wings, these dressed in brown and green, the crowd clapping for both the director and the new players. 

A little girl, in ballet shoes and a pink dress with ruffles, her hair down to her back and tied out of her face with a bow, joins them on the stage and sits down in the center as the heavy velvet curtains pull back to reveal a backdrop imitating a hallway. With a large door, two round, gilded mirrors and a single chair. 

The orchestra begins, the dancers lifting their hands with a wave of a conductor. 

Shadows flicker at the back of the theater, eliciting shocked, almost horrified gasps from the crowd. But you know what’s coming. You don’t turn around. You smile.

Beside you both Missy and Marcus stare, mouths open, as eleven foot tall wooden nutcrackers amble down the stone steps between the seats, their knees stocky, their weight uneven as they march towards the stage. Their giant mouths creak and groan as the switch on their backs moves without any visible force. The green and red paint shines in the lights from the stage, their silver buttons glowing like stars. The dancers in brown coax them closer with a curl of their fingers and a bend in their arms. They begin to sway and spin across the stage, their legs outstretched and their feet curved into satin shoes, the little girl paying them no mind. Instead, she gets on her knees and waves to the marching soldiers.

More awed gasps as now teddy bears then porcelain dolls, the size of elephants, follow the nutcrackers down the steps, the orchestra keeping time and building a sense of whimsy and joy. The little girl bounds to the edge of the stage as the first wave of soldiers approaches. With a kiss from her hand into the wind, the first nutcracker freezes and then shrinks, the dancer behind the girl flicking his wrist. The crowd hums with delight as the nutcracker, now the size of a toy, floats next to the chair. One by one, the little girl greets the marching toys just before they shrink and find a place next to the chair. 

With the last doll fluttering in the wind as it settles, the little girl spins and twirls until she drops into the chair and seemingly to sleep.

The crowd roars with joy, a thunderous applause swelling in the amphitheater. 

But, best of all, Missy is on her feet, cheering and clapping. Her face glows in the light of the stage, her eyes bright and hopeful, her cheeks pink and chapped. In the shadows that flicker of people moving and applauding, beyond Missy’s curly hair, Marcus stares at you in a way that makes your heart grow bigger with every beat, his own silent music swelling the cage of your ribs. 

He reaches out his hand for you and you take it. 

He keeps holding you long after Missy sits down and the ballet continues.

A nearby park has set up Christmas lights in the trees and on the pathway. Missy, after promising to stay close, has gone and disappeared in the dark, off playing with a few of the other children who stayed after the show was over. 

Families sit on benches under covered awnings, the dark night cold but not encroaching, a food truck selling churros and Mexican hot chocolate mystifying the chilly air into white puffs as they serve eager mouths and cold hands. 

You walk the lighted path with Marcus, your arm tucked up around his. 

The sounds of children laughing fill the comfortable silence between you two. 

“This is going to be embarrassingly underwhelming,” he says quietly, the warmth of his body enough to keep a shiver at bay. “But thank you. That was incredible. I mean, I’ve seen The Nutcracker before, but this . . .”

He trails off, shaking his head, awe curling his mouth open.

“It’s pretty fantastic, right?” You smile up at him and squeeze his arm. 

He closes his mouth just as his eyebrows jump.

“Kinda makes me wonder if I picked the wrong profession, if other people are using their powers like that.” 

You chuckle lowly. “Ha, as if there’s anything you could be except a superhero.” 

“What do you mean?” The tone in his voice makes you pause. Just around the curve of the path, you’re hidden by silver-dripped trees and frost-covered shrubs. No children run here and the lights on the path are muffled by the overgrowth.

His eyes are dark when you look into them, but dark in the way under the covers of your parents bed is dark, or the dark in your friend’s mouths when they’re torn open with laughter. Dark in a way that holds and comforts and sinks deep. White mist puffs from his chapped lips, nose pink and cold. The lint from his scarf has stuck to the base of his neck. 

“You have to save people. It’s who you are. I don’t believe for a second there’s any part of you that could sit by and watch terrible things happen to good people. Your powers don’t change that.” You swallow, fingering the snaps on his coat as you stand face to face, the decision to say the words on your tongue nearly splitting you apart. “You saved me. If that counts for anything. You saved me from being alone on another really shitty Christmas and I–,”

The soft but determined press of his lips against yours brings silence to the grove, your words dissipating into the air like snowflakes. The whole of the world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth on yours; you forget the cold, the chilly burn on your cheeks, the sweat on your hairline where your woolen cap sits. You forget the sound of people in the distance, forget the lights in the darkness. He kisses like he works, methodically, confidently, and with intention.

His well-kept mustache tickles your nose, his lips a little torn from the cold, but the heat of his mouth warms you to your core. He holds you, his scratchy mitten against your cheek, the rest of him staying perfectly still, letting you savor his touch, commit the shape of his mouth, and by the quietest of moans rumbling in his chest, you think he might be doing the same. 

In the split second where you think he’s going to pull back, he cups the back of your head in his glove, sealing the hair around your shoulders to the collar of your jacket. Emboldened by your soft inhale, he turns his head, opening his mouth and more of himself up to you, and you, in turn, run as far as you can with this. You slip your arms around his scarf, trying to get at the heat of his throat, as he gathers as much as he can of you into him. 

You aren’t sure who eases you both back down from the clouds, who lifts hands and pulls apart, but your mouths separate, your noses inches from each other, and great plumes of white mist rise from your heated gasps.

“So I’m not crazy,” he murmurs, his eyes nearly completely hidden behind condensation. “There is something here. You feel it too.”

“Yes, Marcus, God, yes.” You close your eyes and bump your head against his as he sniffs in the cold, his cheeks flaming.

“That’s what it takes to get you to call me Marcus, huh? A kiss that knocks your socks off?”

You shake your head, laughing, your nose seeking out the solace of his warm skin. “‘Knocks your socks off’, you’re such a dad.” 

“Yeah, I am. And you made my daughter happier than I’ve seen her in weeks. I’ll never forget that.” 

The heavy rasp of his voice has your eyes seeking out his. You can’t quite find what you’re looking for behind the glasses, but his relaxed open mouth, the tilt of his head down to you, begs for more.

“W-wait – wait, Marcus.” You fight the sudden spark of images flying across your mind; his bare hands, free of gloves and mittens and wool, lifts your shirt up and those soft lips imprint themselves on the curve of your stomach; scorching water turns his back bright red as he tugs your knees tighter around his waist don’t worry I’ve got you; waking up to him stretched out naked and loose and finally relaxed. Your heart squeezes at the mere fantasy. Everything you’ve ever wanted, inches from your outstretched fingertips. “Are you serious about this?” 

Marcus grins, kisses your nose, and pulls you in by your scarf, as if you could possibly get any closer.

“Yes, I’m sure. Very sure. I haven’t made a choice this easy in years. Wait, I want to look you in the eyes when I say this.” He lets you go only to smear the condensation away from his glasses. Remind him to wear his contacts the next time you go out in the snow. 

Next time next time next time

“There.” He slips those thick-framed glasses back over his nose and then takes your hand. He holds it near his heart. “I like you and my kid adores you. I’ve been slowly going crazy at my desk, hoping that the way you smile at me is only for me, and that you don’t know anyone else’s coffee order by heart.” You huff a laugh, if only to loosen the knot in your throat. “What? I’m serious.” He chuckles with you before taking you into your arms again. His lips are warm against your forehead. “I’ve had it bad for you ever since you started, but I never said anything because I knew you were new to the city and you didn’t need your boss crypt-keeping on you.”

“I think the correct term the kids use is just creeping, but I get your point.” You tilt your head up into his waiting gaze. Warm like chocolate. Warm like the sturdy earth. Warm like . . . “And if my employment is the only thing keeping us apart, then I totally quit.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re totally fired.” 

You both laugh into each other, mist rising from your mouths, the corners of your mouths splitting in the cold. The temperature is steadily dropping, but you can’t seem to care. In fact, one big gust of wind could blow you away, suddenly lighter than air. 

“So does this mean I don’t have to get you a World’s Greatest Boss gift?”

He kisses your cheek and you feel it in your toes. “You’ve already given me exactly what I wanted.” 

“Merry Christmas, Marcus.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Diego Moreno Martín Species: Spellcaster Occupation: Freelance Photographer Age: 25 Years Old Played By: Zee Face Claim: Froy Gutierrez

“Don't just smile for the camera—smile because it makes the world a little brighter.”

For as long as Diego could remember, the good name of the Moreno family had been sullied by unsavory rumors. Growing up, Diego was unsure how much stock to put in them—to believe them outright would be scandalous, at best. Except. There were the hushed meetings that he was not supposed to hear, there were the odd visits by relatives whose names Diego did not recognize from the family archives.

And so, Diego clung to the truth—at least, the truth as he understood it. Whatever their reputation, magical potential brimmed in the Moreno family. Old, dangerous magic tempered, presumably, by formal, dedicated training. What Diego might have lacked in raw talent was supplanted by his willpower. Magic benefits from a conduit. To that end, Diego was indulged in his pursuit of an ideal. However, that conviction would be a forebear to dissonance.

While his particular skill in protection magic was subtle, nothing so flashy as sparks or flame, Diego himself, as he grew, became known within the Pacto Áurico for his colorful personality, his frequent walkabouts, and his persistent intervention in the lives of others. Why read about the world in the book? Energy could stay in one form, of course, but it begged to change, to be worked into action. Diego was much the same. He chased the new, the exciting, the alive. Better to live a life among the people, helping as only he could.

It was no wonder, then, when Diego refused to live his young adulthood in yet another gilded cage. He argued, aggressively and successfully, until the bars were bent from the sheer force of it. And if Diego questioned why his family was so willing to let him spread his wings and leave Spain? No matter. New York was a welcome change from the traditional attitudes that had stifled Diego. Despite its reputation as a cold and uncaring city, it was easy to find warmth, to find like-minded spellcasters who wanted to protect their communities, not hide away from them. It helped that New Yorkers, more than most, were willing to look the other way when it came to the supernatural. And if extending a ward scored him a free bagel, that was between him and his local bodega.

Encouraged to pursue interests beyond his magic and eager to commit every new experience to memory, Diego took to documentary photography. There was beauty to be found in the everyday—ephemeral moments that he could capture and truths that people revealed when they thought no one would care enough to notice. After graduation, he traveled, learning more about the sprawl of America through the way light caressed the faces of its people. He expanded his repertoire, booking weddings, graduations, anything that caught his eye. And if his eye occasionally caught something he was not supposed to see, if Diego had to stretch his magical muscles to explain how he had gotten a particular shot, it was an easy marriage between the work he loved and the work he had been born into.

But, in the end, Diego did not need much convincing to return to the fold of the Pacto Áurico. When he received the letter, sealed with the Moreno family crest, it was simply good to know that he was still needed, no matter how menial the request. Observation for a seemingly routine ritual felt a bit insulting, as if years away had dulled his power. Even so, if he was truthful with himself, it was hard to be on his own as much as he was, surrounded by people living their lives in more than snapshots. Besides, a Moreno—a true Moreno—would put family above all else. While Diego had never taken that belief to mean he should enable the worst impulses of his family, it would do him no good to hide from the rumors. To put them to bed, to find the truth, he would go home, if only for a time.

But truth could be stranger than fiction. When the ritual went wrong, in the way that it was always doomed to go wrong, Diego operated on instinct, time enough only to protect the weakest from the blast. The raw magic hit him in strange waves—deep in his body, first, before it laced across his skin. Mental, before the physical. In the aftermath, he felt radioactive—sick and energized. The thought struck him, quick and fierce: How dare they make him a part of this—make this, whatever it was, a part of him. But there was no time for blame. Earthquakes, especially magical ones, brought aftershocks.

Diego felt it better to look for a solution, be a part of the solution, than putter about the manor, waiting for cosmic retribution to take its due. Leaving was easier, the second time. Traveling was second nature. However, it soon became clear that his magic, once steady and reliable, was growing unpredictable. The full picture would take time and, Diego feared, ample darkness to develop. But there was no deluding himself. If Diego could not find out the truth of this matter, it seemed, he himself would become part of the problem to be solved.

Character Facts:

Personality: Friendly, honest, impulsive, intense, nosy, observant, offbeat, stubborn

Diego is honest to a fault. His poker face is salvageable, but, if asked a direct question, he struggles to believably lie. If the truth is fantastical, he will often play it off as a joke—a joke is not technically a lie, right?

Growing up surrounded by spellcasters and magic, Diego has a tendency to look for a magical solution before a practical one. The consequences of the ritual have complicated this impulse. The potential for danger is worrisome, but so is the potential for embarrassment.

Despite specializing in protection magic, Diego was cross-trained in self-defense and boxing. Better safe than sorry. He would prefer to use his words (or a spell), but he does not shy away from a fight.

While Diego is not technologically illiterate, he has a very narrow view of what role technology can (or should) have in his day-to-day life. Computers are for word processing, complex mathematics, and sending proofs to your clients. Hacking is fake.

Traveling and freelance have left very little time for relationships of any kind. Diego is happy to flirt for the glimpse of a smile, but he becomes easily flustered if the attention is returned.

[foundress0fnothing]

I write (slowly) for a lot of ships. Stars next to completed fics. All links are for AO3!

and kisses are a better fate than wisdom (Nessian)

Feyre drags her sisters to Medieval Times to ogle the hot king. Nesta drags Emerie and Gwyn to Medieval Times for support and hater solidarity. And maybe to ogle some hot knights.

leave a kiss but in the cup (Nessian)

Cassian gets roped into helping organize Rhys and Feyre’s wedding when, on a whim, the two decide to throw it at the winery in the small town where the brothers all grew up. The problem? He has to work with Feyre's older sister, Nesta. And she hates him.

Darling, I Would Do It Again (Feysand)***

Looking to rebuild her self-esteem after a messy breakup, Feyre takes Mor up on her suggestion to visit a lingerie store.

what lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Elucien)***

Elain and Lucien make a bargain. When it's time to call it in, however, neither of them remembers what it is—or that they made one at all.

whistles far and wee (Feysand)***

When Tamlin refuses to pay him, the Piper decides to collect his payment himself. That payment? Tamlin’s intended. Lured into the depths of the Court of Nightmares, Feyre soon learns what is expected of the Piper’s possessions. A pied piper feysand two-shot.

A Mind of Winter (Gwynriel)***

Stuck together in a cabin on Solstice after a training exercise gone wrong, Azriel decides to help Gwyn celebrate the holiday even when they're away from their friends and family in Velaris. As they cobble together a Solstice celebration, marking what traditions they can and creating their own, what else might the spies discover on the shortest night of the year?

more thicker than forget (Azris)

Azriel Moreno and Eris Vanserra are both young literary scholars working to make a name for themselves in academia. After a disastrous conference, a lost job opportunity, and a messy one night stand, the two part and move on with their lives, only to find themselves forced to work together on a project years later.

Both Forever and Rather Die (Elucien)***

Elain runs a sex cult. She’s looking for something new. Lucien is new.

Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries (Nessian)***

When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.

Sweet Secret (Feysand) (on hiatus)

Feyre and Rhys make a bargain. One pledges love and provision, the other love and secrecy. But what happens when the demands of a human court threaten their promises? Is love enough? What does one owe to another after a promise is broken? Based on Marie de France's 12th-century Breton Lai, Lanval

ACOTAR Writing Circle 2 Fics (all completed)

Meet Me in the Woods Tonight (Azris): Part 2 by @fieldofdaisiies and Part 3 by @vulpes-fennec

Forced to partner together during their company's annual team building event in the Illyrian forest, Azriel Moreno and Eris Vanserra find themselves an unlikely duo. When Eris suggests straying off the marked paths through the forest to beat the other competitors, Azriel reluctantly agrees. Eris was an eagle scout after all---what's the worst that could happen?

Double Blind (Gwynriel) Part 1 by @hlizr50 and Part 3 by @shadowisles-writes

Gwyn and Azriel have both been set up on blind dates by their friends. When they confide in each other, each one desperately hopes that the other might object. But neither of them are willing to stand between the person they care about and their potential happiness. Luckily their friends aren't nearly as blind as the Valkyrie and the Spymaster.

When It Rains (Gwynriel) Part 1 by headcanonheadcase and Part 2 by @sunshinebingo

Gwyn and her friends just arrived at their favorite camping spot. Although everyone is eager for a little rest and relaxation, Feyre advises that they 'work first, play later' and get the site set up before they all head down to the lake. Cassian is working on putting Gwyn's tent up when he accidentally pokes a hole in the side with one of the poles. Gwyn insists that it will be fine, but with rain in the forecast, will she be able to keep dry? Or will she need to seek alternate shelter?

[rise-my-angel]

New Year New Games

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Female Reader

Length: 16.3k

Warnings: Nanny au, slight canon divergence, reader with powers, mutual pining, masturbtion, angst/hurt comfort, happy ending, smut, handjobs, p in v

Notes: Big thank you to @thewayofthemandalorian for letting me borrow the idea about Marcus's wife and caring for a younger Missy from Afraid To Jinx It 💜

You knew you weren’t getting out of this one. You had already skipped out on the Christmas party, and nearly everyone had commented on it. On the Monday you arrived at work and the first thing Marcus said to you was, “You didn’t come to the party? We- everyone was excited to see you.” Followed by a few vaugley annoyed emails from others in the office about you not showing up. Apparently your presence in the building was missed and you’re excuse of something coming up at the last minute was not accepted. 

Now though? You had been walked right into a trap just to coax you into saying yes. Ms Vox and Lavagirl had insisted in meeting up with you for lunch, claiming it had been so long since they’d seen you and wanted to catch up. You had Missy with you that afternoon, so you hoped she would be a good distraction for them. Failing to remember that she obviously was at the party, and wouldn’t be distracted by her charm this time around. 

“No one has seen you in forever. We miss you.” Vox was unfair. Toning her voice up to sound so sweet and enticing while bashing her well painted eyes at you. Lavagirl was a little more straight forward in intention, but stayed silent to let her friend play the guilt trip game. “There’s no way you aren’t at least a little bit tired of working in Moreno’s house day in and day out.” 

Except that was the opposite reason you didn’t go to the party. It was over half a year ago when Marcus’s wife had left. Signed her parental rights off and moved overseas to focus her life entirely on laboratory research. None of you were quite sure why she had to leave her family behind to do so, but judging by Marcus’s not so heartbroken response you suspected it was at least something that had been building up for a while. 

That’s where you came in. Your ability wasn’t special enough to put you in the prestigious league of Heroics, but kept you around them so long most of them considered you a friend. You could keep it dormant and that’s where you preferred to keep it. Ullr they called you, or when they tried to tease you about it, ‘God of Gambling’. You could use it to win any kind of direct amble, bet, or traditional game. You couldn’t bet on the horses, but you would always win a game of pool. 

Turns out, having such a specific skill set didn’t have much use in a combative world, and more often then not you were designated for office duty. Then Marcus’s wife left, and he found himself with a three year old Missy and no one to care for her when he was gone. So you volunteered. Coming here to only find out that the very team you were hired on to join, had no use for you made you feel left out. 

Tossed aside because what were you supposed to do? Fight aggressive, violent bad guys by challenging them to rock, paper scissors? “If I win six out of ten you have to promise to stop murdering.” Yeah that would solve the problem. So you forced it back, kept it dormant and tried to find purpose here, until Marcus needed help. 

It was a long talk when you approached him about leaving your job here and being a nanny to his daughter. You needed a purpose after the only one you were told you were destined for got ripped away for it’s uselessness. But half a year later you felt no regrets. 

Missy adored you as much as you adored her, and Marcus felt much more like a close friend than a boss now. Which was why you skipped the party. He to you, felt too much like a close friend and you had a bad habit of falling for close friends. 

You spent enough time as it was in his personal life, and the last thing you wanted was to come off as clingy or attached. You invaded their lives, their home enough as it was he didn’t need you in his home for an office party with people you didn’t even work with anymore. So you claimed something came up, but now the two women sat across from you at the tiny round table felt like they were closing in on the lie. 

“I’m not above dragging you out of your apartment by force to get you to go.” Your forehead fell into your hand as you sighed. Lavagirl wasn’t above making a scene and your nerves lit with anxiety at the prospect of being the subject of it. She leaned in across the table trying to catch your eyes. “You haven’t done anything fun for yourself since even before you left. It’s just one party and we’ll stop pestering you about them. Until the next one.” 

Your eyes dragged up to her, flat and amused as you tilted to rest your cheek on your palm. You did have fun actually, both with Missy and the more quiet hours you spent with Marcus when he comes home. Just spending time with him like you were regular friends. “What if midnight’s just too late for me?” 

Now Lavagirl was the one to give you the flat look. “Please how many times did I come back from a mission around eleven at least and there you were still working away? You’re telling me in what? 6 months you’ve changed and now abide by a bed time like a good girl? I can’t even get my own daughter to do that.” 

Your body dropped, eyes drifting off to the side of nothing as you sighed. If you showed up, did the rounds, made an impression as people were excited to see you maybe you could sneak out during a quiet lull when no one was looking. You were quiet for a moment, mind lost in thought as you sat unmoving. 

Vox’s quiet call of your name along with a cutesy “Please?” just sent prickles all over your skin. Raking across your arms and down into your chest. These were your friend’s once upon a time. It wasn’t their fault or choice that Ms. Granada kicked you out of the league. 

Before you could really think about it, a small hand tapped at your arm. You looked beside you to Missy’s wide brown eyes just as bright as her dads. “Daddy says I can come too. I can keep you company if you’re sad!” 

Christ almighty, her puppy dog eyes were just as manipulative as Marcus’s as well. His magnetic manipulation might not have been inherited, but apparently his adorable wide eyed convincing skills sure were. 

You ran a hand over her hair, noting in the back of your mind to braid it when you both got home so she didn’t have snow soaked hair dripping all over the floor. You didn’t even notice that you called the Moreno house home. Not her home, or even their home. Just home.

Warmth filled your heart as you looked at her, and flickered your eyes back over to the hopeful looks of your friends. Answering Missy was easier then answering them. So you pulled her head slightly towards you to press a kiss to the top of her head. 

Pulling back you put a hand over your heart, voice enunciated and exaggeratedly formal. “I’d be honoured Madam Moreno to have you escort me to the New Year’s Ball.” 

Her little face scrunched up in thought, whipping her head around like she was about to reveal a secret only to slide halfway off her seat to whisper to whisper, “What’s a New Year Ball?” 

Grinning, you cupped your hand around her ear, whispering just loud enough for Vox and Lavagirl to hear as well. “Like the fancy castle party in Cinderella.” Immediately her eyes lit up and clapped, voice loud and almost in a giddy ‘yay’. Catching eyes of other people in the cafe, but only attracting melted hearts of you and the other two at your table. 

She stuck her pinky out and waited for you to return it, as she gave a fond smile before looking to the others. “You can’t pick me up though. Give me time to get ready, alright? It’s been a while since I’ve been around everyone at once.” 

They gave you that at least. The rest of the afternoon was easy going. You spent much time in Missy’s room combing through her closet and drawer of little costumes trying to find a pretty dress that sparkled just like Cinderellas. Sitting on her bed, short legs waving back and forth as she tapped at her cheek trying to decide if she wanted a pretty tiara to go with it.  

By the time you heard Marcus’s car pull into the driveway you already had Missy in her seat at the kitchen table munching on baby carrots as you put the finishing touches on her dinner. As you heard the front door open, Marcus sweetly called Missy’s name. 

Her head whipped over to you, hair flying across her face from the swish, eyes wide and begging. Just a nod of your head and she jumped from her seat and ran into the other room. Judging by the clash of fabric, no doubt dashing straight into Marcus’ chest in a hug. You tried not to pay attention, or even look his way.

Hopefully he would make his usual plea that you shouldn’t feel obligated to make dinner, let alone set out a plate for himself and not you. Shake his head at your insistence that you enjoyed it and he’d leave it at that. You didn’t want him to bring up new years and immediately key out whatever lie you’d come up on the spot with. 

You only planned on visiting for a short while, avoid having to interact with him in a fun, champagne fueled get together where he’d let loose much more naturally. You could avoid your feelings when you still worked at the head quarters, distracted by non stop running around and being dragged by your ankles into office politics. Here you had Missy. You were hired to make her your priority so you could shove those feelings aside in favour of being a good caregiver and role model for her. 

But a party you had no obligations, and there would be no filter or work around to avoid him. Marcus wanted you to come to the Christmas party so much, he would be thrilled to see you at this one.

Lost in thought, you missed Marcus’s entrance to the kitchen. His presence only making itself known as you jumped at the press of his warm hand at your back and deep voice rumble in your ear. “I’ve told you, cariño. If you insist on making me dinner when you don’t have to, please make some for yourself too.” 

From the corner of your eye you could see his chin nod out to the only two plates set up one with a purposely fun Missy friendly assortment of food while the other clearly set up or Marcus with a little green bean salad on the side that neither you or your tiny ward would ever touch. “And I’ve told you, sir that I take on enough time with Missy as it is. She needs alone father daughter time.” 

Still not looking him in the eye, you grabbed the plates and swivelled out of his closeness by rushing out the long way to the table. Even a drink set out in a nice glass was there. Leaning down to Missy’s level you put her plate in front of her. “Remember, veggies first. So you can-” 

Her bright eyes shined up at you with a proud smile, “So I can end on the tasty parts?” You grinned at her and pulled her in to kiss the top of your head. You could only see enough of Marcus to know that pulled off his tie and undone enough buttons to let his chest breathe. 

But you still didn’t look at him as you left the room to put your jacket on. Marcus though was faster then you could leave, turning the corner as he called your name. Reluctantly you turned your head and instantly regretted it. His glasses were off so it gave a completely unobstructed view of his eyes that screamed warmth. “Are you going to be there tomorrow night?” 

You told yourself the hopeful look on him was your imagination. “I uh..” 

Marcus closed in on you, his gaze never straying from your shifting eyes. “Her abuela is taking her home if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Christ how did a man with such a sharp power and commanding presence radiate a sweet energy that it could rot a tooth if indulged in too much. You switched your weight back and forth on your feet, knowing if you lied to him now you would secure him approaching you directly at the party about it. 

So you sighed nonchalantly and nodded. “I think so.” You looked up at him in the most fake casual manner. Maybe you really did deserve to be booted from the team, you couldn’t lie convincingly with a gun to your head. “Hard to say no when Vox gets on you about something, right?” 

His eyes squinted in thought towards you for the briefest of flashes before chuckling. The bass flying directly into your veins and flowed throughout with a guilty desire. A fond smile graced his features as he took a final step towards you, a hand gently finding a spot cupping your wrist that hovered by your chest still attached to your zipper. “I- good. We all just want to see you have fun for once. You work too hard.” 

If Marcus could feel the muscles in your arm tightening, he didn’t say anything. The needy part of your brain just begging for him to slide up just centimeters more and lock his think fingers with your small ones. But you simply finished zipping your jacket up hoping the movement would lose him. It didn’t, his touch followed the trail up to your shoulders only to burn your neck where he moved his touch to lightly cup the side of your neck and just under your jaw. “I’m serious. I want you to go, see everyone again and have fun. You deserve it, alright?” 

The rough pad of his fingers had your pulse explode into overdrive, again if he noted, not a word was said. You needed to get out of there. The longer you felt Marcus in your space, the more his comforting cologne scent filled your nostrils the more you couldn’t breathe. He didn’t wear know how weak being so close made you feel and you couldn’t deal with that right now. 

So you just forced a tight closed mouth smile and nodded. “I don’t know about that, but I promise to stop by.” You turned to open the door, yelling a goodbye to Missy only to be accosted by her tiny frame bumping into your legs. 

“Wait you need a pretty dress too!” Without thinking you crouched down to her height with an eyebrow raised. “The Cinderella ball, if I’m a princess you are too.” Turning in place she looked up to the currently impressive height of her father. “Daddy she needs a matching dress!” 

You laughed genuinely this time. “I promise I have a princess dress that will match yours perfectly.” To be honest you’re not sure you did but a promise was a promise to the mini Moreno and you’d have to spend the afternoon searching for one. 

You stood up to leave again, seeing Marcus with such a warm gaze towards you and what looked like a smile you told yourself wasn’t for you. You looked down at Missy as she gave one last request. “Glass slippers too! For the prince remember?” 

It didn’t occur to you that as she said it, her grabbing onto her dad in a cuddling hug was anything more then just an innocent hug. Marcus knew what she did, but you didn’t. “Glass slippers. Check.” 

Stepping out onto the porch you turned back as Marcus said your name once more. “Goodnight, cariño.” 

You felt your face flush, but bent your head somewhat out of sight. “Goodnight, sir.” Before finally taking off. He was itching to say something about the formality, you just knew it but didn’t bother giving him the chance too. 

On the way home, you ended up stopping by a little dress shop just to see. Missy ended on a poofy sparkling blue dress, much darker like a midnight blue but it was the closest you both could get to the dress from the movie. You already had an idea on what to wear, there was a simple deep orange dress that was a tad bit boring that would have sufficed. 

But here you were, looking for a deep blue dress just to you could make the little girl you watch happy for one evening. You couldn’t say no to her hopeful face, the bright shining one she got from her father and the one you avoided on him as much as possible. 

Settling on one similar in colour, you draped it over your bedroom door with a pair of nicer shoes tucked against the wall nearby. If you turned your light back on, you’d be able to see the dress. Watch as it mocks you for even thinking impressing either Morenos mattered. The love and affection you had towards them was real and tangible, and it just made you feel wrong for ever contemplating dropping any kind of hints. He was your boss no matter which job title you held and having the person he hired to care for his daughter fawn over him wasn’t appropriate.  

That thought though, didn’t cease to creep back into your mind as your fingers trailed down to your clit the longer sleep evaded you. You didn’t start with Marcus in your mind but he floated back in, buzzing your senses and losing your breathe to it. His tall warmth that could engulf you, burying you deep with the deep cadence he spoke to softly in.

Images of a face so handsome that if he worked at a normal office, he’d surely have women fawn all over him everyday. But you saw his domestic side, how his soft features glowed under the lack of eyes and pressure atop his shoulders. 

The more your core tightened in need, the more breathy the quiet noises you made felt. If you made as little noise as possible, even in your silent home, you might be able to pretend you weren’t teetering towards an orgasm at the phantom of the innocent touches he graced you with. 

Not knowing that Marcus felt a similar tightening of his own, only he let those thoughts dominate his mind and felt no shame for what his senses blew over him. 

Missy tucked into bed, he finally found time to wash off the day in the shower. Starting off with no agenda, but as the water grew colder, his thoughts grew stronger. Your wide eyed face whenever he was close to you haunted him. He wanted that look underneath him, on it’s knees before him, and Marcus desperately wanted to see how much he could morph it with wherever you’d let his cock inside of you. 

He begun gripping the base of his cock without much conscious effort, squeezing just tight enough to set the nerves inside him alight. One hand was braced above his head flat against the tile wall, the other keeping such a tight grip he could only stroke up and down slowly. You had never touched him in anyway that could be interpreted sexually but the memory of your hands on his skin burned an invisible imprint on the spots. 

Marcus had cupped part of your face in his hand tonight, he was so close to being able to pull you into him and find out what your lips feel like. Lips that he needed to feel all over his body. A shiver rippled down his spine at the thought and travelled into his cock with a slight twitch. 

His strokes slid faster and faster, never ceasing the tight roughness he held. The throb throughout it yearned to find out just how snug your pussy compared to his own grip. What you’d sound like the first time he eased himself into your pretty body. Marcus thought it would be soft, a quiet, reserved gasp that he wanted to fuck out of your worries. 

His thumb rubbed over his tip as he groaned, the ghost of a fantasy kneeling in front of him. Each rub imagined itself as sweet little kitten licks you’d tease him with. Your alluring eyes shut or refusing to look up at him in shyness there even in his fantasy. 

In tandem with the ghost in front of him, his hand slid down suddenly from braced above him to the shower lever. Just as the image of the same hand gripping your hair and guiding your head to sink down over his cock flashed just as he purposely turned the level to heat up. 

The slight burn from the shock of just too high temperatures so suddenly, the steam fogging up the entire room blended with his groans. Your beautiful self that walked and worked through his home like it was your own, the need you had to take care of even him had his jaw clench at the angry need to make you feel it in return. 

Through gritted teeth his strokes slid faster up and down his cock as your name moaned out from his lips. He felt no shame for how much he wanted his touch to be you, no shame for how much he saved your kind, innocent actions in his mind to jerk off too when he was alone. 

You were a beautiful creature in mind and in body, and Marcus was desperate to prove it. As his orgasm waved through him, the spurts of cum painting the tiles should have been your tits, your stomach even your ass. His cum was on his shower wall when it should be painted all over you. 

Yours was less satisfying. Nothing more then a shiver and dull fire that faded just as unimpressive as it’s size. You withheld his name on your tongue, and as you turned to the side you refused to pull a pillow into you to cuddle. You didn’t want to flame an unfair fantasy. It wasn’t Marcus you were cuddling into you, and you’d end up imagining no matter what if you tried. 

So you fell asleep, frustrated at the your petulant attitude of having to go to a party with people who want you there. Show up, praise Missy for her beautiful princess appearance, chit chat and then sneak out when no one was looking. 

Simple plan, but just like your original plan of being hired into the heroics team, fate would refuse to let it play out as you tried so hard to. 

It had surprised you that your biometrics still worked. You showed up to the outside of the complex with a long coat wrapped tightly around you to protect from the cold, but even in the tram to the main building you refused to let it up even a little. 

You felt exposed in this dress now that you weren’t alone in a tiny dressing room. The deep blue with a shining sparkle felt louder then the amount it even showed of your skin. Your arms draped and covered by it’s long material and the calves sticking out from where the dress landed at your knees were covered in a tight black leggings. You wore no more or less clothing then you’d ever worn in that building but it still felt suffocatingly bright. 

A few faces you didn’t know directed you to the main level where the event was taking place, undoing the front of your jacket as you did so. Trying to swallow the pounding of your heart at how shining it was already. Unfortunately for you, any chance at entering quietly was dashed as soon as you stepped into the elevator. Running in just before the doors begun to close, was a familiar flock of blonde hair and a tinge of an accent that never knew what an indoor voice was. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Your head fell back with a jolt as you turned partially to look at the man. Miracle Guy held an excited grin and arms wide open for a hug that he pulled you into as he continued his rant. “Half a year we don’t see you and you show up on new years looking like a five coarse meal, darlin’?”

 

Mouth slightly agape, you shook the surprise off your face. “It’s uh, nothing special- your suit looks good, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in just black and white.” You shifted the attention elsewhere, Miracle Guy looked rather handsome, black pants and a white blazer trimmed with a matching black with what appeared to be a casual white long sleeve underneath. And there was no chance he didn’t want to boast about it. 

He pulled back and spread his arms out like a showcase, “My body helped pick it out. I’m telling you he got an eye for flash already.” He put a hand on his heart with a mock act of choked up, “I’m so proud.” 

You half smirked as you rolled your eyes, once again pulling your coat to hide your dress once more as you turned back to the doors. “Good to know that some things never chance.” 

Miracle Guy chuckled beside you, “Don’t worry, darlin’ I guarantee no one around here’s changed since you left. You’re in good hands.” Just as the doors opened, he shoved you a bit to go in front of him completely oblivious that being the subject of his dramatics was the last thing you wanted. 

A skilled hero and good man, but one of the most casually dumb person you know. Passing a newly installed rack of hooks, clearly for the line of jackets currently decorating the entrance hallway Miracle Guy pulled off your jacket with no warning. 

Making you fall back slightly with a yelp, now you were out there. Your conservative skin covering outfit ready to trick you into feeling all eyes on it. Miracle Guy’s hands patted down on your shoulders and walked you forward, the volume of the party just out of view around the corner. “Time to swallow those nerves, gotta show off our sparkling guest of honour in her strangely sparkling dress.” 

You weren’t really sure what he said to announce you. All you could feel were eyes, too many eyes snapping over to you in too many emotions. They all were a blur as your heart pounded in your ears, being approached by a multitude of people. Most of which were your short lived teammates. 

Vox was unfairly stunning as usual yet in gentle muted tones, contrasting with the black dress on Lavagirl that did nothing to take away the brightness of her hair. You were pretty certain it was physically impossible to actually dye her hair. 

You didn’t really like the fawning. It was sweet of them to compliment you, but there was just so many people suddenly around you. Marcus was just out of sight near the other end of the room with a very similar blue blob in his arms, no doubt helping Missy show how excited she was about her dress. Next to him was Ms Granada, probably the one person you wanted to talk too less then Marcus. 

Luckily you were being dragged off closer to the bar area to be persuaded with an open tab. Eventually were you talked into have at least one since it was early on enough that driving later wouldn’t be an issue. For a while, things fell back into a calmer place.

You may just have been able to get out on time. Suddenly your name was being called as the midnight blue blob ran over to you, her dress shining in the light and her hair in a pretty little up do. You tried to push down the thought that Marcus spent time and patience doing her hair up so nicely and certainly not picture it. 

Hopping off the stool, you crouched down to her and welcomed her hug. Fixing her tiara as her impact made it fall off to the side you didn’t see the approaching figure. “And you were afraid you two weren’t going to look the same.” 

Startled by his voice, you stayed frozen crouched on the ground as Marcus picked up Missy, turning her in his hold so she could look at him properly. “Can’t be outshining you now can I?” He leaned in closer to her as she shook her head no, whispering something in Spanish too quiet for you to try and pickup. 

All you could see was Missy suddenly wide eyed and determined looking as she nodded yes this time before looking at you. “I have to go! Secret mission!” 

Laughing you said “okay,” before standing up close to Marcus to give Missy a kiss on the forehead before he put her down. Both turning your torsos to the side to watch her run off across the room to where her grandmother stood chatting with what was likely an old colleague. You chuckled to yourself, the admiration you had for her soared higher every day it felt. 

Braving a chance, you looked back up at Marcus, instantly regretting it. His hair was done, not pristine or slicked back but loose and wavy, the curls on him so soft and appetizing. Just a neat dark blue button up with far too many buttons undone at the chest and sleeves rolled up his forearms and black jeans to finish it off. Your heart fluttered at how handsome he was. 

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one she wanted to match with.” You tilted your head just the slightest in confusion before his eyes took a peek down to your dress and back up, never leaving your figure. In his eyes there was a flash of something you couldn’t quite catch, he was good at reigning himself in. “You look beautiful by the way.” 

Your face fell into a flustered embarrassment as you crossed your arms protectively over your stomach, pointedly not looking at him. “Everyone here looks good.” There was your complete lack of charisma or subtlety again.

Your nerves flickered on and off, unable to decide if you wanted more or less of this unwavering gaze he had on you. But his voice lured you in to look up at him regardless. “I’m serious cariño. You look stunning tonight.” His hand risked rising up to trace his fingertips over the fabric at your waste and ending just at your hips, keeping them pressed there. “But you look stunning all the time, so I guess that’s not really a compliment.” 

Mouth stammering with no sound of words even coming out you pulled your arms in tighter as the embarrassed smile stayed plastered. “That’s rich coming from you.” His eyes narrowed playfully at you as his fingers pressed into your dress more firm, likely now feeling the dip into your skin instead of the fabric. “Women drool over you online all the time, not to me.”

His whole hand slid into place your hip now in a caressing hold in his large, warm hand. He ignored your attempt to lessen the not uncomfortable tension between the two of you, his other hand raising up to tangle a bit of your loose hair in his fingers.”One of these day’s I’m going to force you to finally understand that.” 

Even though he wasn’t near your face you still shivered at how close his knuckles were to brushing your cheek. “Yeah right, you do enough as it is.” 

Hand curling more around your hip you felt a slight pull to move you closer, his hand in your hair still raking through the locks as you wanted but not dared to do to him. He may have already had a drink, he could just be buzzed and sweet you told yourself. 

Marcus seemed to reign himself in as well. Sliding his palm down your shoulder to your arm and letting it fall to the wayside. “I’m glad your here.” 

As if completely oblivious to the tender air between you two, Miracle Guy appeared by your side an arm thrown carelessly around your shoulders enough to jostle you in place uncomfortably. Marcus still with one hand on your hip moving up to your waist to keep you steady as he glared at your new companion. “Careful with her.” 

Ignoring the awkwardness, he pointed at Marcus “You don’t mind if we have our turn to have the guest of honour?” Marcu’s jaw clenched as well as the muscles in his forearms. Miracle Guy now tapping at your shoulder. “We require assistance, someone with your expertise.”

Pushing you now with his both hands on a shoulder each, he turned back once to his clearly agitated leader. “Moreno.” 

Marcus just ignored him. His brown eyes washed over you with that frustratingly addictive allure, “Go, have fun. I can have you later.” Your heart lurched along with a shiver down your spine as those alluring eyes dove deeper into something much greedier, only to be ripped away from you as you were not so gently guided to a green felted table. 

Your entire body sagged at the realization, turning to point and glare at him, Miracle Guy held his hands up in the air. “It was Tech-no’s idea.” Behind you the man yelled in protest. 

“Did everyone suddenly forget what I said before I left?” That was a yes, and when you looked at the table, none of them looked guilty. More excited actually. Cards were laid out in the middle of the table and it did nothing to entice you like the brown eyes somewhere behind you. 

Miracle Guy walked around you to lean up against the table, palms bracing him as he did so. “Come on, Ullr. Whats point of being the god of gambling if you never play.” 

Your teeth bit the inside of your cheek, already feeling yourself let your ability flow through the gates you liked to keep it locked behind. Still, you protested. “I’m sorry did everyone go deaf when I said I don’t like fooling around with this stuff?” 

It was laid out very clear, no betting, no stakes, no money. Some forms of gambling your power simply didn’t work with, but most you did have an advantage that would always secure a win. You didn’t even need to learn or try and finding fame and fortune that way felt like cheating. 

You hadn’t used your ability in any way since you left to be a nanny to Missy. Tech-no leaned onto his forearms resting on the table. “Hey, we only bet bragging rights not money.” 

Your arms crossed, looking to the side as you grappled with using this again. Vox snuck up beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and one at your waist guiding you closer. “One game from the beauty in blue?”

You didn’t feel flustered in the way you did with Marcus. Less butterflies and heat in your cheeks, and more dread and frustration. “I thought you said you just needed my....help.” You weren’t going to say expertise that’s stupid. 

“Some of us learn by watching, teach us a few tricks, maybe a drink, have some fun, sweets.” Vox then slapped your ass gently as she walked closer to the wall beside the table. It’d been half a year since she did that, and now you remembered just how annoying but comical it was. Just coming from her though. 

You tapped your fingers against your arms for a minute. Breath moving faster as your limbs tingled uncomfortably, but you already had unlocked it. It wasn’t something you thought about or even needed to pay attention too. 

Play a bet, and you’d win no matter what. It was a spectacle they wanted, so just maybe you could give it to them and be satisfied enough to let you leave. 

It never sat right with Marcus. Your entire history with the organization. Marcus had been the one to hire you. A series of incidents occurring in New Zealand, rumours of betrayal and accusations of cheating spreading like wildfire amongst groups speculated to be involved in organized crime. It wasn’t necessary to his work at the time, but he liked to keep an eye on things like that. 

Eventually a name kept popping up, a pseudonym that claimed anything they showed up to a hosted gambling event amongst that community, they’d win again and again. Impressing the men so much that they rose through the competitions. Finally making it up to face off against one of the main leaders, and the host of the competition at his private residence.  

The next day, breaking news of a giant raid at the very same home. And only a whisper of someone they called Ullr to go off of. He couldn’t get his mind off of it until he went to look into it himself. A real shock when he tracked this figure down, only to find you in a tiny unimpressive apartment in the middle of a panic attack. 

Apparently being forced into acting as an informant for an organized crime system through a gambling competition was the local police station officers solution for failing to find a reason to arrest the woman who broke up with his petulant child of a son. 

Rest assured, once you realized who he was and the warm genuinity that radiated from him, it all came spilling out of your mouth. You didn’t even live in that country. A small vacation, a small string of dates with a pushy, entitled rich man that had you ending things politely, and suddenly you weren’t allowed to leave. 

Marcus was excited when he brought you back to America. Sure it was where your home was, but he also had been honest about your ability. Honest about wanting to see you find a use for it that didn’t leave you feeling used or dirty. 

But Ms Granada didn’t hire you. And she didn’t want you. So just as quickly as you had settled in as an official member of the team, she kicked you off and demoted you to administration work for the very team she kicked you from. 

He hasn’t seen you use your ability since. Not even as you liked to do, just playful jokes and laughs about it with the your former teammates. One could mistake you for never having it at all. Truth be told he was happy when you told him you wanted the job to be Missy’s nanny. 

Not seeing you everyday? He missed you, and he wanted to make it better but Ms Granada had his hands tied. 

Having you in his home, with his daughter and be in their lives sent his feelings spiralling out of control but still you never used it. And it left Marcus feeling unsettled as he watched you reluctantly sit at the table being dealt cards everyone knew you didn’t even need to look at.

But you always wanted to do things for people to make them happy. Maybe it was selfish to want that all for himself and Missy, but he wanted it all for himself because he wanted to make you happy in return. He wanted you to feel comfortable enough to give yourself to him, trusting that he only wants the best for you like you do him. 

He tried many times to make you dinner before you made his and Missys. But you were strict about your routine with her, and as much as it touched Marcus that you cared he just wanted to see you stop doing everything for everyone else. 

You weren’t happy at that table, but you were there letting yourself be a spectacle for an ability you were kicked out of your dreams for. 

Marcus begun making his way over to the table, circling around so he could see you properly. Drinks and laughs filled the entire area, but you remained mostly stoic. A calm, flat expression as you tried to force yourself into the same joyous feeling but failed. 

The group was having fun, but all you could see was your failure. People looking to you for entertainment that got to come back in the next day and live out the dream they were promised. It wasn’t Marcus’s fault, and you wondered just how much of it he felt guilty for. 

Guilt for rescuing you from an endless trap, only to be overruled before you even had a chance to prove your worth. You felt your own guilt as well. You loved Missy, and carving a part of your life into this small domestic fantasy with her and Marcus filled your heart with warmth. But you also had to watch his marriage fall apart for this little life to happen. 

Had to watch him come in day in and day out and act like normal. Act like it was just some minor troubles, when behind closed doors? He would express to you how frustrating it was, how difficult she was making it and how he was falling out of love for her quicker then it took to fall in love. She wouldn’t grant him a divorce because of Missy, only to walk out months later. Leaving behind nothing but divorce papers and documents giving up her parental rights. 

It was painful, and you didn’t know how fair it would be to Marcus to showcase your feelings for him when this intimacy only came about from his family being torn apart. 

You noticed he had begun to watch as well, but his face as hard and impassive as you tried to be. His brow furrowed in an unknown conflict. His eyes only on you. Not long after he came over, his mother joined passing a now more tired Missy into his arms. Whispering gently into her ear he pointed at the table and described what was happening. 

Her own head fell into where it could reach on Marcus, a hand gently resting curled up on her mouth as she watched you. You had played 4 games now, and still they playfully and harmlessly asked to keep going. So you looked over, a choked up smile on your face at the tired little beauty. 

She whispered to her dad back, and Marcus walked up to you, kneeling down enough so he and Missy were at your own level. His hand was cupping the back of her head, “Someone’s just a bit too tired to make it the entire night.”

You brushed a knuckle against her cheek. “Not waiting around for midnight? Even after all those light movie nights?” You and Marcus both knew that wasn’t true. Some days she struggled to fall asleep without her dad there, and she always wanted to stay up until he came home but fell asleep with her head in your lap anyways. 

She shook her head before wrapping her small arms around Marcus as much as she could reach, snuggling her face into him more. Muffled words came out, but you both were the only ones to hear her quiet plea. “Remember to leave a shoe.” 

Marcus chuckled as he pressed a kiss to her hair. His eyes looking over top his daughter to watch you mindlessly turn to the table and tossing a card play out that had the rest of the table groan in increasing defeat. 

It seems you played entertainer no more the second either of them came along. You turned in your seat, knees now dangerously close to bumping into Marcus. “And who is the prince supposed to be silly girl?” 

You could see her own brows furrow in a familiar fashion. Turning her head so the side of her face was smushed against his she tried to pull Marcus in closer. “Daddy.” 

Your heart fluttered, there was such a frustrated sincerity no doubt the former stemming from being so far away from her bed. Neither you or Marcus looked taken back by how quickly she answered. Missy was a smart cookie, it wasn’t so surprising that she picked up on the yearning leaking from both of you towards the other. 

Your only hang up was how affectionately Marcus smiled at her. He mumbled something to her in Spanish that you couldn’t quite pick up, but the words promise was definitely slipped in there. He adjusted her in his arms, so that as he leaned in close to your own face, it let Missy pause her hold on Marcus to wrap them around you. 

You felt your hands brush just slightly against the bare skin exposed on Marcus’s chest as you hugged her back. Pressing a kiss to her hair, you shivered as Marcus’s fingers brushed the hand at his chest. The slightest of firmer drags against your own fingers hitching the air in your lungs. 

The two of you found each others eyes with a darker emotion behind them that had your heart pumping harder then before. Finally he pulled Missy back into his chest, eyes on you as he leaned more to the ear furthest from the table. 

“I’m going up to my office for a while, okay?” It was something you’d heard many times before, but now there was a deeper husk, thick and heavy with what tasted like greed to the words. You only could nod, eyes no doubt wide and mouth slightly hanging open. 

Your chest heaving just once as you shakily exhaled what you didn’t even realize you were holding. The office that was on the next floor that you knew no one was on. You didn’t want to read into it, but more then once tonight there was a raking of his eyes over you that burned somewhere it really shouldn’t. 

Again, you barley paid attention to what you were doing as you watched him approach his mom, handing the now dozing off Missy to her as he kissed her forehead once more and said goodbye to both of them. 

No one was even paying attention to him, no one but you saw Marcus pause at the door. No one could see the clenched jaw as his fingers tapped against the frame, or the eyes that seemed to look down below your face and up before pushing off and disappearing. 

And no one but the empty hallway saw Marcus groan a strained string of swearing, as his hand reached to his jeans to adjust himself. He couldn’t stay in that room, watching you with with his daughter acting more like a mother then Missys real mom did. Watching you look at him with such bright and needy eyes that he’s not even sure if you realized you kept giving him. Or that gorgeous dress framing you so deliciously in a deep blue that matched his and his daughter’s outfits. 

He adjusted himself once more, the way you looked, the way you looked at him, and how much you matched tonight like a little family causing his jeans to tighten far more then he’d be able to hide in such a crowd. 

Now you were just jealous. Marcus was the one who managed to sneak away with no one noticing, but here you were. Still here, now leaning up against the bar denying any goads to join with more drinks from the increasingly rowdy team. 

You didn’t lie to yourself, it was nice to see them all so much looser then the usual professionalism and serious lives they normally lived when here. It felt much more like just a group of normal friends then who they really were. 

You had checked the clock a few times, and after it hit eleven you found yourself looking around to see if Marcus returned. Perhaps he went to his office to get away from people, did that include you? You practically lived at his house maybe he needed time away from you as well.

But then there was the fire that flashed in his eyes more then once tonight. A fire your imagination had only ever seen in the darkness of your bed in between quiet hitches of your breathe, but it never felt as intense as the real thing. 

Marcus might not have meant it that way, but deep in your subconscious there was a beg for it to be exactly that. Your conscious brain however, disguised it as a concern to check up on him. Just see if he’s okay and ignore the heat flooding your bloodstream, rising a sensitivity that extended to an uncomfortable awareness of how your dress rubbed against your skin like it wanted off. 

There was a melancholy yet liminal feeling as you walked up the stairs. Your heel rising enough from the shoe forced you to stumble a bit and slide your foot in more steadily. You smiled to yourself as you were knelt over, hand pressing the back of the shoe in more. 

Missy was ridiculous. Such a sweet and quiet girl, yet unashamed to be stubbornly vocal about things she really wants. She wanted you around more and more, and every time Marcus was home she always gave you such puppy eyes when you said goodbye. She was so attached to you and you were to her, so much so that on more than one occasion a stranger in public would call her your daughter or vice versa. 

Never once did Missy correct them, and it made you reluctant to correct the assertion either. If your phone wasn’t still tucked away in your coat pocket, you may have considered slipping the shoe off just long enough to take a picture. 

The girl was still a toddler, she still believed in fairytales and neither you or Marcus felt the need to break her of that illusion. 

As you wandered into the office floor, there was a beautiful blue light streaming in from the windows. The snow on the ground let the night sky reflect colour into it’s glow, and it lit up the office you once worked in. 

Tucked away in the corner by the far wall, as a tint of orange that took over the blue reflection. Not a vain man, Marcus’s office was small and cozy. Away from the larger, more lavish offices that the corporate heads preferred. 

The floor was silent as the carpet silenced the echo your shoes would otherwise have made. If you stretched your hearing, you could hear the faint scribbling of a pen, and coming up closer you had just enough of an angle to see his phone haphazardly tossed onto the small couch pushed up against the wall. Sitting on it’s side as it lay on the inside arm, it clearly landed there in carelessness rather then placed neatly. 

Marcus didn’t immediately notice your presence as you peeked inside. His well manicured curls were now tossed around, ruffled and more of a mess like his hands had been run through it. One extra button was undone on the shirt that now seemed to be more wrinkled and wrung around then in front of company. 

His glasses were also tossed upside aside on his desk, he didn’t arrive with them. He must have put them on to work, only to toss then off in another act of unknown frustration. The black rimmed frames always made him look handsome, but there was something about looking at him, bent over his desk, an elbow braced on the wood that held his head up in it’s hand. 

Without the glasses you could see his nose, the length of it sliding down his face and making you wonder why he ever could make negatively tinged jokes about it. 

As your feet patted into the room quietly, Marcus snapped his head up. Your name falling quietly from his lips. “You know people are going to notice their guest of honour slipped away.” 

You bowed your head bashfully, a not so sincere smile falling over your face. “Guest of honour’s a bit of a stretch.” You walked more inside properly but chose to lean against the bookshelf between the door and couch. “I’m more like the entertainment.” 

Your fingers tapped anxiously against the shelf. Muted thuds rhythmically filling the gaps of nothing. 

Marcus dropped his pen, running a hand through his hair confirming it was a mess of his own doing. He pushed back in his seat, but didn’t stand up. His arms crossed over his chest as he huffed out. “I’ll talk to them. They should know better.” 

Smiling you looked away, biting your lip sharply and letting it go as you turned back to him. “It’s not a big deal, they just wanted to have fun.” 

You watched his jaw clench again, paired with his brows furrowing and a distant look in his eyes as if looking through not at you. “No it is a big deal.” 

Pushing up you stood straighter ready to fight him on it, temper his nerves. “Sir-” 

The forming of a shiver in your spine crept to the surface when he stood up, body posturing like he was containing an anger inside. He coped your own position, both of you leaning back once more against the desk and shelf, respectively. “You don’t think I see what’s going on?” 

You hoped he didn’t see the gulp that tried to swallow your anxiety. He continued though. “They keep your nickname that those scumbags called you, Granada kicks you off my team,” His knuckles tightening their grip on his desk with the word ‘my’. “Then you leave, and the first time everyone sees you again they treat your abilities like you’re a main attraction at a carnival.” 

Your nails tried digging into the wood with no avail, “It’s fine Marcus. We tried and it didn’t work out, I may as well use it for fun at least.” 

The darkness in his eyes felt like anger, Marcus though wouldn’t ever direct it towards you. A brewing fire was sparking inside but you were given no reason to take shelter. “Do you?” Your eyebrows raised in question. “Use it for fun? Because I’m willing to gamble that you’ve never once used it for anything that would benefit you for the sake of it.” 

Marcus noticed his mistake as soon as you did. His face falling, he fought back a playful eyeroll as you pulled your own expression into an exaggerated mocking look. “Brave choice, gambling with the only person nicknamed for the god of it himself.” 

His jaw twitched as he discreetly licked his lower lip, head turned away from you. Shaking it incredulously, Marcus walked over to a cupboard, bending down to reveal a tiny safe he typed something into. Amusingly though, a cold steam rushed out along with light from a bulb. Just two shelves were inside, one with what appeared to be beer and two different bottles of another kind of liquor, the top one divided between a small stack of juice boxes and cans of soda. 

This time you grinned fully, watching him pull out a taller thin bottle along with two similarly stemmed glasses from the regular cupboard beside it. “Do all good dads keep their whiskey stored with their daughters juice?” 

He plopped everything onto the table before gesturing to the bottle that was in fact much lighter in colour. “Champagne is very different then whiskey I’ll have you know.” Your condescending smirk lightened the mood enough so a matching smirk graced his lips as he nodded his head back to the cupboards. “The other one’s scotch so that doesn’t count.” 

You laughed looking down to your feet before taking a few casual steps towards him, Marcus not moving to poor anything. Just watching you with a patient smile. You felt a little silly in your sparkling dress again. The rich blue the only thing about Marcus’s shirt that made it stand out from every other range of colour he wore of button up. The jeans were dark and blended in well, but as you stood there in something you spent way too much money for?

Well that uncomfortable itch once again rubbed against your skin in annoyance. You felt far too casual for how good he looked in any normal clothes he wore. Even his tactical wear wasn’t flashy or fancy, just dark and normal only attached with gear and not nearly enough armour. 

It wasn’t often you were compelled to fill the lull with words, but his eyes had softened too much towards you to handle. “I uh- just came to check on you. You’ve been gone a while, thought maybe you were trying to get out of the countdown.” 

Marcus shook his head casually, “Not really, I’ve just had my fill of big parties for a while. Our Christmas one wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.” 

Eyes squinting with a head tilt, you found yourself close enough to perch on the back of the chair facing his desk. Still more then arms reach away from him for safe keeping. “I thought..well because you hosted it you would enjoy it?” 

You had seen some of the preparations, but anything you were there to see him work on it he was usually also on the phone arguing with another vendor. “Usually the heads host it, but Granada’s having renovations so it got dumped onto me. Not exactly how I planned on spending the night.” 

Was that guilt you felt once again for not showing up? “Yeah um, Missy showed me the schedule she drew out, told me all about what the movie was supposed to be that day.” You smiled to yourself thinking about it. “I put it on during the morning so she could still have it with someone.” 

That deep intensity in his eyes returned, so you backtracked. Worried you just did exactly what you were trying to avoid. “I didn’t mean, I wasn’t trying to take over your night. I just, she was upset the adults wouldn’t want to watch it during the party and asked if I’d watch it..I wasn’t trying to step on your toes, I know it’s your thing.”

Marcus pushed up from where he leaned on the desk, his arms out slightly to try and coerce you to calm down without coming into your personal space. “Take a breathe, cariño. There we go, you’re alright.” 

You weren’t sure when the room started to spin or when your heart betrayed it’s pattern, but Marcus’s voice was so soothing it pulled it right back down. You nodded as he spoke and took a few deep breaths, his shoulders relaxing as your body did. 

“You’re good with her.” This time you didn’t even nod along to his words to appear polite and civil. There was something about invading in his private life that just kept setting you off. Kept you on a leash and yanked you back every time you started to forget you were here for a job given to you out of convenience. 

“I don’t think there’s been one day after you leave that Missy doesn’t ask why can’t you stay.” He laughs as his hands finds a home on the belt loops at his hips. “And every time shes grumpy when I remind her that you have your own life away from us.” The quiet void in the air was think and suffocating, and Marcus was about to deal the killing blow. 

He moved to pull the stem glasses closer, reaching for something to carefully pull the cork out. You teased him before you could stop yourself. “Isn’t that supposed to be a midnight countdown thing?” 

Marcus smirked, not bothering for any fancy gestures only a simple corkscrew to pull it out. Just like every thing else about Marcus; genuine, refusing to be flashy or show off. “I’ve spilt enough on this carpet. I don’t need to add alcohol to that mix.” 

Tossing the crew out of sight behind his desk, it didn’t occur to you right away the pull and push of a drawer that he didn’t touch. Not flashy. His powers just existed as a part of him. 

Pouring one glass until it was full, you jutted forward starting to protest. Marcus though only poured half. He put the bottle to the side, and gently picked the smaller amount to hand to you. You didn’t like to drink a lot. Not just on an occasion basis, but in amount too. You never told Marcus that, but he knew it all the same. 

Instead of waiting for you, Marcus came to you. His broad body felt like it towered over you with how all encompassing he was. No glasses to obstruct your view of those brown eyes you adored and his mouth just close enough to you that you felt the tail end of his words on you. 

“There’s plenty of ways to celebrate anyways.” 

Your heart constricted, trying not to let the buzzing in your body come from anything deeper. “Judging by the sounds of it, downstairs is about to choose the screaming and yelling option.” 

Sound was more muffled, but in the emptiness of the office floor there was a growing rowdiness in the air. Neither of you were sure what time it was, but honestly it didn’t matter. There was enough alcohol in that party it would say it for you. 

Your eyes narrowed playfully as he brought the glass up to his mouth, “Isn’t the polite thing to make a formal toast, sir?” The sir may have been far more mocking then you’d ever say back when you worked in this very building. 

Marcus just chuckled though. Leaning his lower back against the desk, you didn’t really notice it. But his hand twitched. One part of him wanted to reach out to grab your hand, and pull you close, the other wanted to just pull the metal on your bracelet over so he had an excuse to hold you in his arms to catch you. For now though he chose neither. 

“I’d rather just have your company if that’s alright.” 

Your heart pounded, your nails tapping against the glass as you stood awkwardly. Not knowing where to go or how to sit in case it breaks his air between you. So you nodded, and brought your glasses up together to take a drink. 

Well, Marcus did. You on the other hand bent your head back to swallow the whole thing. Once again, your nails tapped against the glass only now it was empty. Marcus tilted his head before reaching blindly to sit his glass down. 

Pushing up you assumed the hand he reached out was to grab the glass, instead he grabbed the glass with it and turned to put it down as well. While his back was turned though, you felt something non existent tugging at your wrist, tripping you in place only to be grabbed by Marcus smoothly steadying you with one hand on your upper arm and the other on your hip. 

“Do you normally skip giving a girl a little warning?” The play died on your tongue as his fingers slid up to brush your jaw and just under your chin. Tilting it up to look at him better. 

The playfulness was gone from him as well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” 

“I was kidding,” That was true, but your limbs buzzed too much to pretend like there wasn’t a trembling shiver in your body. 

Marcus’s hand tightened on your hip, not painfully but pulling it closer to him so as he stood he was closer to being flush with you. His thumb reached to rub against your cheek. “You’re nervous.” Too close to hide the anxious biting down on your lip, his thumb hopped across your skin to tug your bottom lip free, never moving it away. Just keeping his thumb pressed against the plushness. 

“I want to show you something.” He rubbed his arms over where they were pressed against your body before circling around his desk to pull out a folded sheet of paper. 

Jutting his head to the side, you followed suit. Marcus spoke without prompt. “Missy asked me if we could see Santa this year. She was so excited, had her in a dress with reindeer all over it, I had to settle her down when she was jumping to stand in line all by herself.” 

Your throat choked up at the pure love he felt for his daughter, how even just a cute memory of maybe a week ago had him emotional. You breathed out a light laugh. “She asked me if I wanted her to tell Santa something for me.” 

Marcus twiddled with the edges of the paper, flicking a corner up and down as tore his eyes away from it to look at you, that expression of adoration never changing. “Told her to draw what she wanted for Santa, in case she forgot anything. Refused to show me until after she already saw him.” Slowly he started to unfold it, sure to keep what was on it out of your vision. “She let me keep it though, just in case Santa forgets too.” 

The joking tone made you both laugh. 

Gently he reached the mere foot gap out to hand it to you, the image on the other side still not visible. You didn’t turn it over right away, just held it in your hands. “I’m not sure I should be privy to such confidential information.” 

Marcus didn’t laugh. Choosing to close the gap by a few inches, his hand nudging the paper up. Indicating he wanted you to turn it over. Speaking low and deep as you did so. “You are for this one.” 

It was in crayon. One image dominated the entire paper, two taller figures stood next to each other with the vaguest resemblance to Marcus, and a woman. A mostly stick hand from Marcus reaching out to a smaller figure that was clearly her. Amusingly noted that she gave herself impossibly long luscious locks. 

The female though, the first thing your brain tried to do was place her mothers image onto it. But it just didn’t fit no matter how you shaped it. Her hair a different colour then her mothers up in what Missy tried to draw as a bun at the top of their head. Which you were pretty sure that woman never put her hair up the entire time you knew her. 

The shape didn’t match either. Thin and skinny like a stick drawing suited her mother, but this was drawn to be a child’s interpretation of curvy. Though it looked more like the wave of a waterbed then a human body the intent was clear. 

Under each person was overlapping scribbles of her and Marcus’s name, and yours at the end. The thing that made this a hint of what she wanted though, was what she drew above you. An arrow with a heart mushed into the middle of the arrowhead, and on the other end was “Mama”. 

This time the shaking was obvious to both of you. Your eyes stung as tears were being refused permission to fall and your next breathe was raspy and almost felt like a subdued sob. 

Marcus wasn’t mad, or offended, or upset. He had looked at that drawing with a yearning that you had seen time and time again when Missy wanted you to stay before her dad even came home. You wouldn’t replace her mom, you couldn’t. It wasn’t right. 

So why did Marcus not protest, why did he look so fondly at it, why were his hands cupping your cheeks. “Look at me, cariño.” Your heart was erratic, but you stood calmly. His eyes all too easy to drown in. “No one is pressuring you. I won’t force you to do or say anything,” 

One hand of his left your cheek to grasp one of yours holding the paper. “Missy cares about you, and I care about you.” Gently he guided your hand to place the paper on his desk and then stayed on your waist as your hands nervously hovered between you both. Not knowing what to do. “You can’t imagine how much I care about you, how often I think about you.” 

His grip on your waist tightening, bunching the material up slightly in his hand. His face leaned into you, shocking your system with how soft and warm his face was compared to how gruff and held back his tone came out. “How little I want you to leave every single time I come home and see you with my daughter.” 

The grip on you tightened, and relaxed completely in seconds. Marcus was still holding something back, but those brown eyes begged you of something. “But it has to be your choice. You’ll mean the world to me no matter what but you have to make this decision.”  

The muscles in his chest and stomach tensed as your fingers found the courage to rest there. Not quite yet ready to hold him as he did you, but the racing of Marcus’s own heart spoke to you when your fingers traced around the chest he teased you with. 

There was a terror that rung through you that you were imagining this, that you’d close your eyes and wind up right back where you started. Or worse, that he’d pull away and be kicked to the curb from another part of his life. 

But he was so close. Marcus teasingly nudged his nose against yours and brushing it softly across it, but never moved his lips to you. He wouldn’t do it himself, he wanted you to chose it of your own volition and it didn’t miss you that despite you being the most anxious and worried about these feelings being reciprocated, Marcus was the one who wanted to be sure. 

Timing had a funny relationship with life. Movies and books loved to play the ‘first kiss at the stroke of midnight’ trope, yet there was nothing but the hesitant stuttered breathe in the air as you leaned up. 

Your fingers grasped the edges of his shirt just a tad bit needier, eyes shut as you closed the distance between your lips with the gentlest of brushes. Marcus barley even got a chance to kiss you back, lips brushing together light as a feather. You pulling away just as he was ready to pull you into him properly. 

But you gave him the smallest of touch, still worried even now that you would be reading it wrong. Marcus didn’t feel the same way. His fingers once again found the bottom of your chin as he now much more playfully brushed his nose against yours. 

His arm slid around your waist to pull you closer into him, chuckling at the light grin you gave him. You more confidently pressed your palms onto his chest just as a rowdy noise made itself known from below. 

The distinct sound of counting made you laugh and Marcus to whisper into your cheek, “What?” 

Fingers sliding to his neck to rake themselves into his curls caused Marcus’s eyes to flutter. “Bad timing. We’re supposed to kiss at the end of the countdown.”

Dark eyes seeked something in your gaze, and he found it. Almost as if each movement was tied to the beat of a number, Marcus pushed your hips back into the wall pressing his hips into yours. Hands squeezing the plush skin of your hips that hid from him, your arms filled with lead. A weight tore them from Marcus’s neck and forced them up above your head and the force pressed them there without mercy. 

Metal bracelets, you didn’t even intend anything like it when you put them on. 

Marcus pushed your hips more into the wall, his breathing heavy in your face as he revealed in the shifting your hips wanting, needing more of the growing bulge that pressed into them.

Your eyes looked into each other, the distinct final seconds muffled but understood below. Marcus raised his eyebrows, and you nodded exactly one. 

If he had planned this part out, he was a genius. Just as the yelling of ‘one’ rang out, so did the click of the rooms lock echo in the air. Before the party below could even yell out their celebration, Marcus took charge. 

Pressing his entire body against yours, leaving no room for even a sliver as he pressed his lips roughly to yours. He moved your mouth the way he wanted, the way he could feel you craved. He held nothing back, the sudden roughness came through by the sound of moans, he slightly wet smack as your mouth moulded against his drowned out whatever was happening in the party below. 

Marcus consumed the kiss, pulling your hips into his strained cock behind his jeans as one hand slid behind to grasp at your ass to keep them there. His fingers digging into the cheek so much that he’d have time later to admire such distinct bruises on you.

Your hands were once again pulled in whatever manner Marcus desired. Forcing them up back to his neck, one of them holding you upright as you felt the scratch of his facial hair if you touched high enough. The other raking into his hair, finally allowing you the freedom to touch him as you pleased. And your touch wanted to scratch your nails into his curls. 

Marcus broke away from the kiss as he moaned louder then even he expected, a harsh “fuck,” following suit. He chuckled, moving to hold your chin more firmly. Tilting you up to look at his him. 

His chest was heaving but the much more swollen plush of his lips called to you like a siren. Your attention tried to slide down to trace your fingers down his chest but he kept your eyes on him. Leaving you only able to try and release each button as you found it until his torso was bare. 

Marcus guided your hands in his, helping you gently push the rest of his shirt down his arms until you had to let go. He was so incredibly broad. It felt as if he was taking up your entire field of view leaving you with the only choice of raking your eyes down it. Broad shoulders and back with such strong arms. 

Arms that made your mouth water, those arms and his abilities could render you immobile, it could leave you at his complete control. But what had your lungs hitching was the softer stomach, a realness without any ego or desire to have that strength just to show off in abs. 

No he was soft, and real, and you wanted to reach out to run your hands over his stomach, but he didn’t let you. Stepping back into your personal space he bunched up the sides of your dress, “Gonna let me see what’s under here, cariño?” 

Biting your lip as you nodded, Marcus knelt down in front of you. His hands smoothing over your calves as he pressed his forehead into your hips. He inhaled trying to find any scent of you, agitating him that there were too many layers. 

He was careful though, starting slow. Lifting your foot up comfortably and slid each shoe off of you one by one, then back to running his hands over your legs and up your thighs. He didn’t let the dress obstruct his goal though. You could see the bumps under the material where his hands explored as the callousness of his fingertips tickled the sensitive skin. 

His large, warm hands suddenly grasped the waistband of your leggings and looked up at you with a murmur of your name. The question was not asked but your, “please” was still the answer. 

Marcus slid his fingers inside a tinge more and snagged the ends of your underwear in his grasp as well, still seeking that yes. Your nails ran over his scalp again, and a full body shiver left him this time. A shiver that had him once again pressing his forehead into your hips, and then yanking your bottoms down in one go. 

The abrupt pull had you jump, but Marcus pressed the bottom of your thigh up so he could lift each remaining pant leg off. Your eyes fluttered closed in a held back whine, missing him tossing your leggings out of sight, and standing up as he clenched your underwear in his fist. Your head was thrown back, and he took the chance to shove what was yours into his back pocket. 

“Marcus, I-” You reached out for him to come back into you. Fingers binding together as he leaned in, pushing your body back into the wall with much less force this time. His fingers traced and brushed your bottom lip, “please kiss me.” Your voice much smaller and meeker then you had meant to say it like. 

A smile formed on his lips, both hands cupping your face tenderly as he went in to kiss you. You gripped his sides, thick and strong under your palms. 

He kissed you with less force, but no less demanding. You let him do with you as he pleased, and gave no trouble when he bit your bottom lip. A gasp of pleasure, and he slid his tongue inside your mouth. Tracing along yours and taking each moan that came up your throat. 

One of your arms reached around his neck again and to press his kiss and tongue deeper into your mouth while the other wrapped now around his waist and pulled his hips into you. The bulge rubbing into you, pressure on your clit frustratingly interrupted by both your layers. “Oh god,” 

Marcus bunched the sides of your dress up, only this time more and more of your bare skin reached his touch. His mouth teased you by pulling away, softening his kiss almost too much and pulling away from your lips. His thumb shifted to rub over the skin of your hips without letting your dress fall back down. 

His touch burning in it’s path you let out a whimper, and once again Marcus consumed your mouth, wasting no time in coaxing your tongue to explore. You could feel his breathing grow ragged, and his hips pushing into you aggressively, making you cry out in need. 

In an instance, Marcus’s patience snapped just a little too much, pulling away from your mouth so a trail of saliva followed his pull back. He gave you no time to think as Marcus yanked up your dress and tossed it out of his life. 

You felt so cold and exposed as he shamelessly looked you up and down, “Fuck.” Ambushing you again he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you again. 

His mouth not lasting long, as he kissed and bit down your neck. The burn from his facial hair leaving your already ravaged neck scratched red. Both large hands reached around, squeezing and pulling with a cheek in each hand. His grip on your ass made him push you into his hips as he pressed into yours. 

Gasping out, “Please, I want to feel you.” You reached to his belt and he paused. His adams apple bobbed and your ass slid from his grasp. Kneeling down you cupped the massive bulge in his jeans, kissing and sucking teases to his cock hiding underneath. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of you undoing his belt, pulling down the zipper. 

Not quite all the way, you pulled his jeans down enough that his cock was released. Right in your face, his tip was red and leaking already, and down from there your eyes widened at the thickness of his cock. Length alone would intimidate you, but his cock was big, so big he’d stuff you full. 

You ran your thumb over his tip, revealing in his moaning and shaking. There was so much precum that you slicked it all over his cock as you stroke him. Slow soft jerks, lubing him up only increasing in speed a fraction each stroke. 

You could tell he wanted you to speed up so badly, you could feel yourself getting wet as you watched your hand try to encompass his cock. Thighs pressing together wasn’t cutting it but you couldn’t stop looking at his cock, your hand refusing to leave either. 

Marcus’s breathing sped up, thighs trembling as you had only just started to stroke his cock anything above slow and teasingly paced. A large hand started to smooth over your hair, his voice coming out in a husk. “Come up here, baby.” 

Gracefully he grasped your hand and helped you stand up, almost like a gentleman would a lady. Just as gentle, Marcus pulled your face in to press his lips against yours. His kiss still full of greed and teeth and tongue, but without the roughness this time. 

Before you realized, his hands grasped your waist and turned your back against the desk. “Hop up.” Just as you tried to hop behind you without looking embarrassing Marcus just grabbed at you, moving you up onto the desk. His eyes memorized by the jostle the quick move bounced in your skin. 

You wanted to trace his own skin but Marcus pulled back to take the rest of his own clothes off. Unsure where to even look, his still slick cock, his soft stomach leading up to his broad large chest, or the bright shine in his eyes, accentuating his face. Your hands grabbed at his waist pulling him to stand between your legs as you slid your palm and nails over his stomach, one of them abandoning the soft issue to slide up the length of his body and cupping the rough brush of facial hair on his cheek. 

“Tell me Moreno, how long has it been since anyone told you how beautiful you were?” Oh that turned him red real fast, the burn in his cheeks a bit of a hint but the blushing design down his chest told an even better story. You smoothed your thumb over the bald patch on his jaw and decided it was exactly where you wanted to kiss him. 

So that’s what you did, leaving your lips to brush against his skin you melt Marcus turn his own head into your neck, leaving a gentle lick and kiss against the bites he just devoured you with. “I’m supposed to be seducing you, cariño. Not the other way around.” 

Thick fingers slid up and down your wet entrance before rubbing at your clit. His hand held you at the back of your neck, keeping you from escaping his mouth as he rubbed circles into you, only leaving just to gather more to keep you nice and wet for him everywhere. 

“You- fuck, you do enough, Marcus. I want to, let me take care of you.” That was the wrong thing to say apparently. His fingers paused, not leaving you clit but ceasing all movement. Instead keeping a steady pressure that had your insides heating up. 

Leaving the back of your neck, he grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. Brows narrowed and a rush fell over you at the serious way he looked at you. “No. You do too much for everyone.” 

Face twisting in confusion, two fingers started to circle your clit again now rough but slow. “I don’t understand.” 

Marcus groaned almost closer to a growl, reaching down to caress your breast, fingers tweaking over your nipple, giving a tug that had you whine. His lips pressed into your jaw and up to you ear as he massaged the sensitive bud. 

“Of course you don’t. You always try to make everyone happy, do everything you think they want. Let me change that, cariño. Please.” Your hand suddenly moved on it’s own from digging your nails into his shoulder blade to the other neglected breast. 

You nuzzled your head closer to his, getting the message you gave a similar treatment to your other nipple, just more apprehensive and gentle then Marcus treated you. He needed you to say it though, he needed to hear you tell it to him. 

You shuddered as he whispered your name into you ear, “Tell me. Tell me you’ll stop. I need you to tell me that you’re going to let me finally take care of you for once. Please?” 

There was a beg in his voice that had you choked up, a desperation to care for you that threatened tears if you said anything more then yes. So that's all you did. “Yes, please.” 

You didn’t even protest that his fingers left your nipple and your clit, instead you sighed out as your foreheads rested against each other, your hands both holding the other at the waist. Marcus lifted his head enough to press a kiss to your forehead and rubbed his nose against yours. “That’s all I’ll ask for okay? That’s all I want, you just like this.” 

Your heart raced as he pulled away, his large hands shoving your legs to the sides even more. His cock bounced in his step as he closed the gap to run the tip over your sensitive clit, and down to smear his precum into your own soaked entrance. 

Marcus gripped the base of his cock and pulled you a tad more to the edge with a hand guiding you on your ass. His cock rubbing up and down, your head thrown back biting your lip to contain a whine and Marcus’s jaw clenched and eyes dark as he watched you both. 

“Look at me.” Commanding, an order, your head flew up to look at him properly like a subject compelled to always follow it’s leader. Brown eyes narrowed as he pushed his cock into your pussy. His gaze watching your gasp, how your mouth fell open from how full he stretched you. It soaked you all that much more how badly he wanted to see you not just feel you. 

You held onto his shoulders tightly as he just pushed inside. Sliding against your warm walls until he was as deep as you could let him be. Your nerves were on overdrive, you could feel so much of him it drove you crazy. “Marcus,”  you managed to whimper out, but that sweet simmer flared back up into an inferno. 

Marcus pulled back before slamming harshly back inside of you, his lips shoving against yours in tandem. Your lips let his tongue explore you however he wanted, all you could focus on was trying desperately to keep up with the pounding of his cock. 

Each slap of his skin against yours may was well been a scream in an echo chamber. It bounced off the walls and back into your ears. You felt that burning need inside you as he slid inside you. Both of his arms wrapped around you as he kissed you

Surprisingly, he used his position to pull you up with him as he sat back in his chair. His cock still deep inside your cunt, slid even further as he bounced you down onto him completely. You cried out and Marcus instantly raked through your hair with gentle shushes. 

Rising up just enough to feel his cock stroke your inner walls so sharply you moaned out his name. Your hips were commandeered as he started to bounce you up and down his cock. The coarse hair around his cock glistened with how much you were soaking his lap. 

Marcus thrusted up against such a sensitive spot inside of you that you clenched hard around his cock. Hard enough that he had to push roughly to let him fuck you deep enough. You pressed a kiss to him, but the bounce of you on his cock made it hard. 

Your breasts bounced just as hard and you felt a deer coiling as his cock pulled intense pleasure from you every slide of his cock. His arms pulled you close to his body, your head resting down on his shoulder as he sped up his pace. Fucking his cock up into you faster as he spat out through gritted teeth. 

“Do you know how many times much I jerked off thinking about you?” Another fiery rush blew through you as you were at the mercy of his cock and his words. Both pounding into you leaving you breathless. “Every night stroking my cock desperately wishing it was you. Angry that I never brought you up to my bed and fucked you so much sooner.” 

“Fuck, I did too, Marcus I did to- oh my god,” Your voice strained into a moan as his hands pulled at your ass cheeks as he fucked into you, the wet squelch of his cock drowning inside of you just had you soaking around his cock even more. And his hard Marcus squeeze his eyes shut trying to force words out through every fibre in his body tensing up in pleasure. 

“Take such good care of my daughter, such good care of me,” The wet slap echoed with the pounding of your skin together as he pulled you towards the edge. “It’s my turn, sweet girl. Cum for me now, and I’ll give you it every single day.” 

His shallow thrusts pushed you over the edge, cumming around his cock and crying his name into his neck. Your back arching as white hot pleasure had you holding onto him for dear life. Unruly sounds clawed their way out of your throat and still his cock fucked your soaked pussy without slowing.

Marcus didn’t let up, fucked you with his cock fast, your ass jiggling from the force. His voice finally pitched, stuttering moans as he grasped your hair. Pulling you up to rub his nose against your cheek, no demanding or teasing.

Just a wrecked moan as you held each other, your ears still ringing as you whined. His voice just as desperate as your pussy felt. Muttering Spanish into your skin, only switching back as he gave final pounding thrusts. His cock throbbing inside of you as his thighs below tensed. “Please, hermosa please.” 

The plea was useless, Marcus hadn’t even finished speaking before he gripped your body so tight his knuckles turned white. His cum spilling inside of you, warm and thick and it seemed to just keep spurting as he slowed his thrusts gradually. 

The dark hair rubbing into your clit and how his cock through everything never let up from the sensitive needy part inside of you had you weightless. Floating in his arms as his own muttering praises sounded underwater. 

Gradually though, you felt him again. Hands through your hair and lips pressing against your head as the water drained. His deep voice relaxed, and his cock keeping his thick cum deep in you. Not yet willing to leave the warmth of your pussy. 

You chuckled a bit, pushing past the lead in your brain holding it down to cup his cheeks. This kiss was the most innocent by far. The one you gave him before was nervous, unsure before he ravaged your lips and your body. 

Now though? You enjoyed a tender press against the other, your body relaxing into his, Marcus content with leaving back in the chair with you on top of his cock like a blanket. 

For a while you stayed that way, neither of you feeling any rush to move. No one was going to walk in, and for once, neither of you needed to sacrifice time together for anything else. You kept his cock inside of you, his thickness pushed so deep inside of you kept your nerves alight, and your own walls surrounding him kept Marcus unwilling to let you go. 

“Come home with me.” Your head rushed up to look at him with questioning eyes. “At least for tonight? Missy’s with my mom until tomorrow afternoon.” 

His cheeks were wide as he smiled at you. “I’m selfish, I want to keep you with me for a while.” His hips shifted to tease you, knowing even his cock when soft was still large and thick. “Even if it’s mostly in my bed.”  

You grinned at him, “Now sir, isn’t it a bit cliche to start sleeping with the nann-” You yelped in a laugh as Marcus tickled your sides. 

He held his own smile, unobstructed by anything weight either of you down from days precious. “Don’t start that. You keep calling me sir, and I’m going to start treating the way a sir would.” His eyes were lustful but he jumped to tickle one last spot. Both of you laughing as you ended up collapsing into his chest rather then pulling away from him. 

“Is it okay though?” 

Marcus looked up to you, his thumb over your bottom lip again as you clarified. “Is it okay to come over- stay over I mean. I just don’t want Missy thinking...” 

Marcus captured your lips in another chaste kiss. “Missy asked Santa if he could make you her mom for Christmas. I think we’re well past you needing to worry about your place in our lives.” 

You knew he meant it this time. There was an affection in his eyes for those he loved, a soft kindness that shined through every aspect about him. But there also was a tiny possessive voice in the back of his head you were starting to understand. 

One that he let out as he fucked you, but also maybe a quieter one that associated possessiveness over you to wanting to ensure you knew you belong. Neither of you were people who felt things lightly, and the time it took to tear your lips apart long enough to even pull his cock from your pussy spoke miles about how little either of you wanted to pretend otherwise anymore. 

To the parties credit, no one really noticed in the end that you left. They also didn’t notice that Marcus had an arm around you the entire time, holding your coat out to put over you. Nothing but an empty parking lot also got to witness Marcus’s rare moment of embarrassment. 

Both of you had debated where to stop and grab something to eat. Stuck between two options, Marcus did what Missy always tried with him. Rock, paper scissors. It took 5 whole tries for him to remember how stupid he was. You didn’t even glance at your hands whatsoever the entire time. Just watching him with a fond but amused expression as he looked up from your constant wins to your smug smile.

Lucky indeed that no one was around to notice him growling out what a brat you were as he gave you a greedy kiss, pushing you up against his car in another lack of self control. 

They didn’t need to know right now. You cared about them, but it was also a memory of a life you never got to live up to. 

The rest of the night truth be told was uneventful. You ate some late night garbage, and didn’t make it much further then Marcus helping you both get ready for bed. Only stopping briefly to pull you back into his chest, watching you brush your teeth in the mirror draped in one of his tee shirts. Your head nuzzled back into him as he leaned and pressed greedy kisses into your neck. 

You passed out in his arms rather quickly. Marcus though, watched your peaceful face for a while. Stroking your hair as he did so. 

He wondered if he should feel guilty for how perfect this felt, how perfect it worked out. He found you hoping to guide you into a companionship in the very team he leaded, only to watch your dreams crumble while the facade of his happy marriage finally exposed itself. 

He laughed to himself, your smug little smirk as he realized how much you just played him for laughs. A way you hadn’t used your ability in longer then he could think of. Maybe it was a start. 

Marcus didn’t work in the field for the Heroics anymore, and you were finding a life outside of that at the same time. If he weren’t needy or selfish, Marcus would feel guilty for how his love only found yours through your dreams dashed. 

But, you used your ability in the parking lot with him, not to play entertainment, not to be a useful spectacle. No you did it just for fun, to make you giggle and you laughed even harder seeing that he was just as cutely amused as you were. 

It was a step in the right direction, and now you both had each other to support that from now on. Missy as well. God knows the second she found out about you both, Marcus knew she was going to try and throw a parade about it. 

She didn’t see you as trying to replace her mother, neither did Marcus and neither did his own mother. Missy started to call you mom nervously when you weren’t around, and Marcus slipped up more then once about it as well.

So he pulled you close into his chest more. Kissing your sleeping forehead, before nuzzling into you back. Your arms wrapped around each other was the best take away from this night there could be.

You were part of their family now, part of their love. That’s all that mattered. 

[magicaguajiro]

Caribbean Folk Saints and Mighty Dead: La Caridad del Cobre

Few symbols represent Cubanía or Folk Saints better than that of La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre. For almost as long as Cuba has existed as a colonial country, Cachita has been its Patroness.

La Vida de La Caridad

La Virgen de Caridad del Cobre is the Patroness of Cuba, copper miners, Rivers and Storms, and of violent rebellion. She is a Spirit unique to this part of the world, worshipped as a Goddess, venerated as an Ancestor, worked with like a Witch. The lore and practice of her Folk-Cults have become so intertwined with ancient Indigenous and African Spirits that its almost impossible to separate them. The story of Cachita, as she is called, is where many of her perceived areas of influence come from. Here is a concise telling of her story, of which I will break down and explain the folkloric elements;

"In the 16th Century, three men from Barajagua were out at sea to collect sea salt. Indigenous brothers Juan and Rodrigo de Hoyos and a young Black boy named Juan Moreno, "The Three Juans". A fierce storm came, so they turned to the young boy's Marian medallion in prayer. As soon as they finished their prayer, the skies cleared and up floated the physical statue, which stayed dry in the water. Attached to it was a sign that read "Yo Soy La Virgen de La Caridad".

The Virgin’s Vessel

These men brought it to an official and a church was erected, and all was well for a time. Until one day, when the priest went into her locked chapel to find the statue missing. He alerted authorities and a search ensued, only for her to reappear the following day. This happened three more times, so the people of Barajagua decided she must want to be moved to a different location. They took her to El Cobre, a copper mining town. The people here loved her, and rang bells and celebrated upon her arrival. The disappearances continued.

In 1801, a mestiza girl known as Jabba or Apolonia in the Sierra Maestras came upon the statue atop a mountain, and thus a church was built and the statue moved once again but not far. This is where her church was built once again. Eventually, she made her way to the colonial capitol of Santiago. This was seen by many as a power grab of influence by the government over the Indigenous and African Communities’ sovereignty.

There are many elements to this that represent her patronage. We have it starting with her being found by two Indigenous and one African men. Barajagua is still to this day an epicenter of culture preserved by Indigenous and Black communities of the Island, and in this time it was no different. This shows her patronage and reason for syncretization amongst these oppressed groups. Her power over weather has clear syncretic significance as well. Her being moved to the mining town of El Cobre shows her patronage of Copper and Miners. I will go into more detail, but the message is clear: La Caridad is more than just a Marian Apparition. She is a Spirit of her own, with pacts to act with authority in certain traditions.

The Cemí of Horizontal Waters

As with many aspects of Cuban culture, her roots in ATRs are clear and undeniable. What is lesser known are her ties to Indigenous practices within Cuba. I will mention that some refute these claims, but I recommend the in depth analyses by Olga Portuondo Zuniga and Maria Nelsa Trincado which is where I draw much of my information here apart from family and cultural history. I have spoken before about Atabey, and there is a wealth of information (and misinfo) on her all over the internet. She is the primary feminine Cemí, or ancestral spirit, of the Taíno groups in the Caribbean. She is called the Mother of Waters and is a primordial force of nature as well as an ancestor. She also has significant ties to La Caridad del Cobre, as well as other Cuban Madonnas venerated by the Indigenous Cubans.

Firstly, in her origin story, we see La Virgen has power to dispel storms. Later on, even as recent as COVID, we see dances and festivals held in her honor to bring rain or stop fire. This part has been attributed to come from Atabey, specifically to her destructive form known as Guabancex (Gwa-Ban-Sesh). She is the Cemí of natural destruction, called Cacique of storms and earthquakes with various sets of Twins at her aide. One set rules the wet and dry seasonal cycle of the Caribbean, known as Boinayel and Marohu respectively. Another set known as Guatauba, Cacique of Winds who would call all the Spirits of the Land with his Guamo (Conch Shell) and Coatrisque, Cacique of Torrential Waters who would gather and then release them unto the Land. One of her helpers, Jurakan, is where we get the word hurricane because he’s the cemí of Spiral Winds. Some even believe that this specific spirit was created to represent Atabey/Guabancex and baby Jesus to represent Yocahu/Jurakan. Cemí were also physical objects many times, carved or crafted to literally have the spirit inside of it.

These statues were considered alive, and could speak and move around according to colonial accounts. This is interesting because in her story we see how her statue moves around to various locations, often moving from indoors to somewhere in nature. This is strikingly similar to the accounts by Fray Ramon Pane on the behavior of a Cemí who “wished to be under the stars”. This Cemí statue would often get tired of the enclosed space he was in and would choose to run off to various locations. In this way, we see that La Caridad herself is a Cemí in a way. In analyzation of her physical vessel, they have also found her head is her original and is made of Corn fiber, meaning at this point in history it must have been made in the Americas. This further cements her Indigenous connections.

Something interesting to note is that almost immediately following first contact, my Indigenous ancestors welcomed the spiritual beliefs of the newcomers, but not in the way the colonizers wanted. Rather than turn away from ancestral faiths in favor of the Catholic Saints and Madonnas, they simply added these European statues to the same altars as the Cemi. While this was not the case for all Taino people, we do have one specific case in Cuba where a Cacique named Comendador and his people worked with a painted image of Mary, to whom they would petition for aide in War. While Caridad del Cobre is not this exact Mary, it is believed some of her traditions and virtues are sourced from this and other similar Spirits from the Island. I see her as merely one very specific face of Atabey, and there are many other Spirits and Saints who are others.

Afro-Cuban Liberation

You will often see La Caridad del Cobre syncretized, or associated, within Lúcúmí spaces with the Orisha Oshun, but she also has come to be used as a mask for many female spirits in other African Traditions, such as with Mama Chola Wengue in Palo. These religions and systems were often outlawed, so to continue them they had to be hidden. Its important to note that La Caridad is NOT an Orisha or mpungo or Lwa, she is a Saint who Afro-Cubans recognized as having similar domains of influence as their Ancestral Spirits. From these associations we see a rise in her popularity among practitioners in petitions for beautification and love, as well as for protecting mothers in childbirth once again.

La Caridad del Cobre also became associated with Oshun because of her connection to Copper, similar to that of Oshun’s Gold. Also, being found by an enslaved person and being housed in El Cobre, a town majorly built of enslaved Afro-Cuban Copper Miners. Similar to the Erzulies in Haiti, I have heard Oshun masked as Caridad inspired the miners to fight against the often fatal conditions they worked in. As a matter of fact, the edict which freed all the miners was read in front of the Statue of Cachita at her chapel in 1801. This further strengthened and showed how she was a Patron and Liberator of the oppressed, especially the Enslaved and their descendants.

There is also Cachita Tumbo. I include her here because she is from ATRs. She is a Lwa or Misterio venerated in Haitian and Cuban Vodou alike, as well as other practices. Sometimes mistaken for Anaisa Pye, another Indigenous-related spirit. It is important to note La Caridad also has connections as Ercilli in Cuban Vudu, but this is a syncretisation where as Cachita IS La Caridad herself. She is considered a New World or Indigenous or Creole/Mixed Spirit, connected to the River, sexuality, femininity, childbirth and the like. Her name Cachita is thought to come from the Taino language, and Tumbo an Afro-Cuban word meaning a dance involving thrusting the body. Think "La Negra Tiene Tumbao". This shows how she has roots as both Indigenous and African. She is a Spirit associated with La Virgen during the Slave Revolts, a connection strengthened in Cuba's Revolution against Spain. In this war La Caridad becomes known as La Virgen Mambisa, and it seems the War-Hungry Mary of Comendador is shining through once again. It is hard to find where Cachita ends and La Virgen Mambisa begins.

Traditional Catholic Practice

DISCLAIMER: Nothing I say here will include practices or knowledge that is closed, nor part of closed practices. Anything I share from this point on should be assumed to be UPG. DECOLONIZATION: This "saint" went unrecognized by the church for over three centuries. She was originally a Spirit venerated by Indigenous and African Cubans for resistance who was taken by the church and used to push Nationalist Ideals and Mestizaje. Know her history and preserve her ways that the Catholic Church has tried to erase.

Working within the Catholic Framework is the safest and most approachable way to work with any Saint, canon or not. I will say it is important to recognize that this particular saint went unrecognized by the church for over three centuries, most of her history up until relatively recently. She was originally a Spirit venerated by Indigenous and African Cubans who was taken by the church and used to This is because there is a set system and rules that can be followed. If I were approaching La Caridad the way Catholic Cubans would, it would be by either simply carrying her with me and visiting her holy sites or by setting up a space for her in my home. This would be a clean, bright space with a yellow candle, a depiction of her and any offerings I may choose to include, like Sunflowers or a glass of water. I would NOT include Orisha or Cemí imagery, as you should be wary to approach her as anything other than La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre unless you are under the direction of an elder. She does have a traditional feast day, which is September 8th. This day, devotees of all paths will visit her chapel, ‘ermitas’ that house replicas, or to the river to make offerings. Gold Milagros and prayers of healing, like those offered to San Lazaro, are a common Catholic charm used with La Caridad as well.

In Folk Practice

In my experience, La Caridad del Cobre is a spirit deeply tied to this part of the world I am in, the Caribbean (including Florida). She IS the Land in a way, a face of the Earthen Mother. I have spoken before on how I like to call her La Madre Mojada or the Wet Mother, the Mother of Swamps. Sometimes even Mother Gator depending on the situation. This is because she is the very Spirit of the pact between the Water and the Land that allows our wetlands to exist. Its important to remember she is not a historic figure who died and is venerated, she is a more of a Land Spirit given an image and name to facilitate her worship, so she often wears many faces. I also see her as a Witch Queen type figure, being the Creatrix and Immaculate Mother of God. I take this to mean shes the Mother of all the spirits of this Land as well.

Offerings that I have given that have been well received include various perfumes, gourds/pumpkins, gold and copper things but especially mirrors, sunflowers, oranges and local honey. As she is a bioregional spirit, I tend to bring her offerings to a River for her as this is one place she is often associated with in all traditions. I also try to source my offerings and workings for her as locally as possible. She also enjoys bells, which is attributed to the bells rung upon her arrival to El Cobre. She likes the number 5 and its multiples, and enjoys music and dancing. Yellow is classically associated with her, but also blue.

Much of my work with her is simply veneration, honoring and respecting her and my Ancestors through her. Seeing as she is barely Catholic in many ways, she has few qualms about lending her aid to witches and spiritual workers. She especially is a great ally to any marginalized people, and can help them to work or fight their way to a better position. She can be petitioned to for help in abusive relationships or in finding love or beauty. She is very ‘elevated’ even for a Saint, so while she does have certain domains, she can also be petitioned to for just about any situation for which you have no other recourse.

Baños de Caridad - Baths of Charity

There are many spiritual bath recipes associated with each of the previously mentioned spirits, but I’m gonna share a folk recipe associated specifically with La Caridad del Cobre so that anyone can use it. This recipe, literally called Baños de Caridad, is great for when you have had some rough luck and need a pick me up. Best made on a friday, this sweet bath is used often for finding employment, bettering health and attracting love. The process is as follows:

Light a yellow candle for La Caridad and dedicate it to her with a prayer. Light her some incense as an offering and to cleanse the space. Then place a large bowl of cool water in front of her. To this, add the sweet plants basil (albahaca) and boton de oro (gold medallion), working them into the water with your hands. Both of these plants are known for attracting money, improving health and clearing up the vibe overall. Then, add a drizzle of honey to increase sweetness and magnetism. Finish it off with two raw eggs, representing the divine twins and new life.

Charms of the Rainmaker

I’ve mentioned before the many connections between the many Mother of Waters figures in the Caribbean and her Divine Twins. This is seen in both Taíno and Seminole legends, as well as even within Lúkúmí with the Twins known as Ibeyi. There are also many charms in this area associated with the Weather, specifically protecting from storms and calling in rain.

One charm that is used in Taíno Indigenous Communities to this day to bring rain in times of drought is to take find stones, each representing one of the twin Cemí of weather. Tie them together and then find a tree brand to hang them in, preferably a Holy Tree like a Ceiba. Pray to the Wind, Rains, La Caridad del Cobre, whomever you are working with. Say that you will not untie the stones until it rains. Once the rain starts, and it will, quickly untie the stones and place them somewhere dry with offerings of flowers, water, fruit, tobacco or a song. You may choose to blow a Guamo when first petitioning, and then again when finishing the rite. This lends an extra power in calling the Spirits of water, harkens to Guatauba’s role.

Another charm I shared in my recent post on the Everglades the charm of tying a blade to part of your house in the direction of an coming storm to make it split and go around your dwelling. In the past a form of matari stones was used. These are basically Caribbean arrowheads, indigenous artifacts once used for their sharpness, now used in practices like Ochá and called ‘Thunder Stones’. You can also use any sharp outdoor tool, Seminole have an almost identical charm using an axe. The idea is the same in both cultures, you are splitting the Weather Twins apart and both have corresponding myths I talked about in that post.

A Note on Honey: Historically, there is a taboo associated with offering honey to La Caridad that you have not tasted yourself. This is a Lúcúmí belief stemming from practices related to Oshun, that transferred to popular zeitgeist. I include this not to recommend following it, but instead to say you may want to omit offering Honey to her altogether.

Fe, Amor, y Caridad

La Caridad is a complex and multifaceted spirit. She is now a recognized Saint, but she is definitely more than that. She has a deep relationship with this Land, and with the other Spirits that she was syncretized with. I hope this post helps adequately share what I’ve been lucky enough to learn and experience with Cachita and Elders who have spent their lives devoted to her.

Luz y Progreso 🌻

[good-books-to-read]

Travel Destination: Mexico

Fractalistic by Gerardo Delgadillo

After her mother’s untimely death, Winter’s life spirals into despair, her father believes his computer program will let them communicate with her spirit, however Rafa, Winter’s friend doesn’t believe it’s real.

Confused and without hope Winter runs the program behind her fathers back, and finds her mother begging for help, is it real or just in Winter’s head.

Every Last Fear by Alex Finlay

When Matt returns home to bury his family he’s faced with a hostile community, a frenzied media, and memories best left in the past, however his family death seemed tied to what happened years before that left his brother behind bars.

Matt must uncover the truth about the crime that put his brother in prision, facing every last fear, even if it puts his life in danger.

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel

Tita is the youngest daughter and has been forbidden to marry, as tradition dictates she must look after her mother until her death, but Tita is in love with a man named Pedro, in desperation Pedro marries Tita’s sister Rosaura so he can be close to her.

Only a freakish chain of events full of tragedy, bad luck and fate can finally reunite them together against all odds.

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

After receiving a frantic letter from her newly-wed cousin begging for someone to save her from a mysterious doom, Noemí Taboada heads to High Place, a distant house in the Mexican countryside. She’s not sure what she will find—her cousin’s husband, a handsome Englishman, is a stranger, and Noemí knows little about the region.

Vampires of El Norte by Isabel Cañas

As the daughter of a rancher in 1840s Mexico, Nena knows a thing or two about monsters—her home has long been threatened by tensions with Anglo settlers from the north. But something more sinister lurks near the ranch at night, something that drains men of their blood and leaves them for dead.

[pemberlyprose]

Mycelium and Mexican Gothic

While sitting and listening to music, I got thinking about Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. Over the past few days, I have been ruminating on what I'd like to write about regarding this story and how it has affected me. Typically, my process for writing essays, formal or informal, involves a lot of black tea and annotating.  Today, inspired by Hozier and Noah Khan, I want to have a brief interpretation/contemplation of a single topic instead: mushrooms being a metaphor for toxic family dynamics in Mexican Gothic. 

SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THIS NOVEL! 

(Also, this is highly summarized because I am a creature fueled by caffeine and chaos and can't be bothered right now. Please forgive any errors).

Taking place in the isolated mountains of Mexico's countryside, Mexican Gothic points a crooked and mishappen finger at the horrors lying beneath the Doyle family's history and home. Noemi, the protagonist of the story, arrives to the Doyles' house to call into question the care of her cousin, Catalina, who has been sending frantic and incoherent letters about voices and apparitions since moving into her English husband's home. As Noemi spends time with the Doyle family, and her cousin, she begins to unravel more of their secrets. Eventually she becomes so deeply involved that, before she knows it, she is taken prisoner. 

Now there is a patriarchal element to this novel that I find fascinating. The Doyles' are made immortal by becoming hosts for "The Gloom" a conscious mushroom network that has inhabited thier bodies, home, and minds for centuries. The Gloom controls the house and thier minds, but it is Howard Doyle, the patriarchal figure, who physically and spiritually controls his family. God-like in power, he has been ingesting these mushrooms for hundreds of years. So, to maintain his power, and in return for making his family immortal, they must give up thier lives, bodies, and offspring to him when necessary for the most henious reasons. 

Like a snake, he stays alive by sliding from body to body, consciousness to consciousness, and he cannot be stopped. Meanwhile, those he takes over are completely erased from existence or thier consciousness remains trapped in The Gloom. They become an echo... A phantom in the house they have lived and died in for the rest of time. All in the name of tradition and family. 

This is a great allegory of how family, tradition, and generational trauma can affect the living. Our bodies store memories from hundreds of years ago, and whether we know it or not, feel it or not, our family members have weaved their genetic memories into our bodies. We are a mycelium of memories. It is in our blood and stretches out to those joining our families and learning our customs. 

Of course, at least I hope, most of the time this is not in a creepy The Last of Us kind of way, but in a loving and grounding ancestral kind of way. I believe there is always more good than bad. However, regardless of patriarchal or matriarchal themes, this novel does an excellent job of illuminating the expectations children feel pressured to meet (in the most extreme way) to please/satiate a parental or authority figure. It's also an incredibly creepy and interesting way to examine the lengths families, even unrelated groups of people, will go to preserve a way of life. Even when it goes against everything they stand for morally and physically. 

I also wondered to myself, why mushrooms? Lately in popular culture we are seeing a rise of mushroom media, and although humankind has always had a certain reverence for them, this novel along with shows like The Last of Us call into question where this circulated fear of being taken over by mushrooms comes from. I don't have an answer for this, but it is a dynamic question to contemplate. 

Why do we fear being taken over by nature? Is it our physical minds we fear losing, or our autonomy in the abstract? Would we even notice it was happening, or would we find out too late like Noemi in Mexican Gothic? Could we escape even after we were captured? 

I don't know. But what I do know is if any of these themes strike your fancy check out this brilliant novel. It truly had me on the edge of my seat all night.

**If you are interested in this story, please note that it is a gothic novel and has many triggering themes surrounding gore, sexual content, and horror. Always do research before reading if you are unsure :) Stay safe out there. 

[thefudge]

hi dr fudge! Hope you're doing well! Sorry for the weird ask but do you have any favorite media that explore woc in unhealthy/twisted romantic relationships? I'm very fascinated with this but i rarely find a narrative that centres on women of color. Octavia Butler's books have been very helpful though because not only are they literary gems but the protagonists are always black women, so it's always fun to analyze the relationships from bipoc lens

i really need to get to octavia butler already

there's a real and frustrating scarcity of twisted/dark romance that features women of color. 90% of published romance with woc are wholesome quirky romcoms with cartoon covers. i'm tired.

i tend to find interesting and twisted content with woc protagonists in literary fiction more than traditional romance; so for instance luster by raven leilani could fit into this category. also, catherine house by elisabeth thomas which features a woc protagonist who is in many ways involved in an unhealthy romance not just with a boy but with a house and an institution and she's allowed to be super messy about it. i haven't yet read you made a fool of death with your beauty by akwaeke emezi, but i really want to, because apparently the woc protagonist gets involved with her boyfriend's dad? sign me up.

there's also stuff like the vegetarian by han kang which kind of irked me but which allows the protag to be really fucked up in her relationships. or you have writers like carmen maria machado and silvia moreno-garcia, both literary fiction darlings whose romantic plots i enjoy a lot more than those found in traditional romance.

a real treasure trove is short story anthologies from women of color. i've noticed that the short story is the real medium for delicious fucked-up dynamics, but check out danielle evans, zz packer, bora chung

i do want to mention a classic that again, isn't really romance, but will fuck you up nonetheless and that is corregidora by gayl jones. because wow, what a novel, and what a voice. so many fascinating and unhealthy romantic, queer, and familial dynamics in that one. in general, books from the 70s and 80s tend to be much bolder. i was really disappointed by the recent the other black girl which was trying to go for that 70s/80s avantgarde and just...fell so flat.

there's a lot of stuff out there to explore, but a lot of it may not be mainstream or as easily available as the media that focuses on white women. when you look, for instance, over lists of dark romance books....90% of them are about white women getting to experiment and be fucked up and messy. woc have to be respectable and "cute" on those clinical and sexless cartoon covers. ANYWAY. that's why many times i turn to our patron saint, fanfiction, which almost never lets me down.

addendum: i forgot about ONE OF MY FAVES: the idiot by elif batuman. goddd, the woc protagonist OWNS MY HEART FOREVER and she has such a terrible, fascinating time with a mysterious Russian guy in college. 

[bluestar22x]

Second Chance Family

Second Chances (Part 6): Second Chance Family

Summary: It’s movie night at the Moreno house - Elena POV

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x OFC!Elena

Rating: 18+ series, 13+ rated chapter

Warnings: Cuteness overload and contemplation over the future

Word Count: 1,317

Author’s Note: I just really love Marcus and Missy and this family unit I’ve created in my head.

xxx

Series Masterlist

xxx

Friday nights had been movie night long before you met Marcus Moreno. You’d started the tradition in college, not sure what else to do while you waited for your washer and dryer to clean the clothes you’d used during the week. You’d been lucky to get an apartment that came with appliances and grateful you didn’t need to waste hours in a laundromat. Back then you’d had one close friend and sometimes she would visit you to share your cheap microwave popcorn and humorously commentate on any movies you’d both seen before. It was the only real time you’d had together that wasn’t spent at school or at the dance club she insisted on going to every Saturday night (even though that wasn’t your thing – she thought it was the only good way to meet guys).

After college, after your friend moved away to the coast for a job, it was just you for a while, then it was just you and Ginger, and through all those years and changes Friday movie night persisted.

So it wasn’t a big adjustment when you started getting serious with Marcus and began joining in on their Friday movie night tradition. There wasn’t much of a difference except you were leaving your apartment to join them at their house and laundry was left for the next morning.

And after you accepted Marcus’ proposal and moved into his house? There was basically no difference at all besides his and Missy’s (and Ginger’s) consistent company. You still ate cheap popcorn and waited for machines to ding and listened to commentary every once in a while from the intelligent, young teenager that you shared a couch and a life with.

The day of your wedding had been the one exception, since you’d been forced to schedule it on a Friday or not get the venue you wanted (a tent in the city park put up for that exact purpose).

And then the next week you were right back at it. This time with a new last name and a promise that you were officially a member of a family you’d chosen. Not that you didn’t love your parents and the dozen or so other blood related family you had, but there was something extra special about having chosen to be a part of one and them having chosen you.

The four of you had plopped down on the couch all together, Missy in the middle, Ginger on your lap and Marcus had gotten the old DVD player running as you and Missy immediately started chowing down on the popcorn (sometimes Marcus had to pop another bag in order to get more than a handful). The movies picked that night were Moana and Ghostbusters Afterlife. You’d seen Moana with them on at least six different occasions since you’d met Marcus, but it was one of Missy’s favorite movies so you and Marcus always indulged her.

She’d been engaged in it from the start, commentary occasionally flowing from her lips (I love this part! This is my favorite song; the drums are cool. I love that rooster so much. For a chicken he’s got a lot of lives.). You don’t mind cause it’s Missy and you love hearing her talk and be a happy careless kid. You knew she couldn’t always be that way.

The Ghostbusters film however, was a bust with her, but she insisted you watch it anyway, knowing both you and Marcus wanted to see it. By then the popcorn bowl shared between the three of you was long empty and tossed aside so she sprawled out on the couch, her head on Marcus’ lap and her feet curled against your hip. The movie had only been running for about a half hour before she slipped into a peaceful sleep. The hand Marcus had curled over her waist didn’t even twitch once during the rest of the movie. You noticed he was careful about any movement he made after, afraid to wake her up and ruin the moment.

After the movie ended Marcus gently scooped Missy up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom without a word to you. You were compelled to follow, for no other reason than to just observe.

When he reached her bedroom he carefully deposited her onto the bed, throwing her favorite blanket over her to keep her warm through the night and giving her a feathery light kiss on the forehead.

All you could think about as you watched was how good of a father Marcus was, and you couldn’t help but let that thought roll into one about having a baby with him.

As far as you’re concerned, Missy is also your child, in every way but blood, and that part wasn’t important to you, you’d be satisfied with her if that’s all fate had in store for you, but you couldn’t help but want another during moments like this. To know what it was like to carry a child and raise them with Marcus from the beginning. To make him a father again and give Missy a little sibling to bond with. You had a feeling she’d be a good big sister.

You’d once discussed it with Marcus, briefly, and he’d told you that he wouldn’t mind having another if that’s what you would want, but you had been the unsure one at the time. Insecure, mostly. You hadn’t interacted with babies much in your lifetime, and you’d secretly been afraid you’d fail as a mother.

But with Marcus at your side, how could you? Seeing the way he interacted with his (your) daughter, your insecurities melted away. You could do it, and if you faltered, you’d have him right there at your side to help. It wasn’t like all the responsibility would fall into your hands – and that made it a lot less intimidating.

When Marcus was done tucking Missy in he joined you in the doorway and kissed your temple sweetly as he rubbed your upper back with one of his hands. “Ready for bed?” he asked at a whisper.

You nodded and closely trailed him into your bedroom, all the way to the door of the bathroom. He had begun applying paste to his toothbrush when he noticed you lingering in the doorway.

He frowned. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head and smiled at the concern written on his face. “Nothing’s wrong. I just was thinking.”

“About what?” he inquired, standing taller, eyes on you.

“Do you remember when we talked about maybe having another child back in September?” (Had it already been eight months since then? Time really flew.)

“Yeah.” You could tell Marcus wasn’t sure how you were leaning but understood that you’d come to a decision if you were bringing it up then. He was waiting patiently with a trained face, not willing to give away any emotion.

You would’ve been worried that maybe he wouldn’t want to start over with another kid at his age, with Missy being a teenager, but you knew him well enough at that point that it wasn’t a concern. You were certain of what kind of reaction you’d get.

It made telling him easy.

“I’ve made up my mind,” you informed him slowly, wanting to tease it out, build up anticipation. You liked doing that sometimes.

“And?” he prompted anxiously.  

“I’d like to have a baby with you Marcus,” you declared, grinning at him.

As expected, he lit right up and abandoned his toothbrush to embrace you. “Are you sure?” He pulled away to study the expression on your face and you nodded at him.

“I’m sure.”

He beamed at you and bent to kiss you on the lips. “I’m glad honey. I’d love to share that experience with you.”

You flashed him an amused smile, one triggered by the word that popped into your head.

“Ditto.”

[rabbitcruiser]

Andalusia Day

Andalusia Day or ‘Dia de Andalucia,’ is celebrated every year on February 28 in Spain. Andalusia is located in the southernmost region of the country and on this day in 1980, the people of the region voted to make it an autonomous community in Spain. The word ‘autonomous’ implies the power of a community or territory to self-govern and make its own decisions without outside interference. Although a few nationalist groups prefer to celebrate on December 4, February 28 is the officially recognized date for Andalusia Day.

History of Andalusia Day

On February 28, 1980, the people of Andalusia organized and held a referendum, titled the ‘Statute of Autonomy of Andalusia referendum.’ The purpose of the vote was to decide on the independence of the Andalusian community. The referendum was successfully passed and from that day, Andalusia became autonomous.

However, a few nationalist groups choose to celebrate Andalusia Day on December 4, a date which marks the demonstrations to demand independence that took place in 1977. Andalusia Day is celebrated as a community public holiday where businesses may close to participate in the festivities. It is, however, only celebrated in Andalusia and not the rest of Spain.

Some schools may also close for a week to participate in a ‘Semana Cultural’ or ‘Semana Blanca’, which means a cultural week or white week respectively. Schools also celebrate the Friday before Andalusia Day with a traditional Andalusian breakfast of sliced toast drizzled in olive oil and a cup of orange juice. Students also color in pictures of the symbols of Andalusia.

Andalusia Day is usually observed by families in intimate gatherings, although festivals and other social activities also mark the day. The people of Andalusia usually decorate their buildings with the national flag, as well as green and white bunting.

Andalusia is located in Southwestern Europe, south of the Iberian Peninsula. It is largely an agricultural community, though, in recent times, it has seen exponential growth in industrialization. Andalusia has eight parts to it, Almeria, Cádiz, Córdoba, Granada, Huelva, Jaén, Málaga and the capital city of the community, Seville.

Andalusia Day timeline

1918 Flag of Andalusia

The flag of Andalusia is designed by Blas Infante, a writer, historian, and politician also referred to as the father of Andalusian nationalism.

1977 Demonstrations for Independence

A public protest takes place to demand Andalusian autonomy.

1980 The Statute of Autonomy

The ‘Statute of Autonomy of Andalusia’ referendum is passed into law.

2007 Parliament of Andalusia Awards

The Parliament of Andalusia grants the Medal of Andalusia to Miguel Báez Espuny and honors José de Sousa Saramago, with the title, ‘the Favorite Son of Andalusia.’

Andalusia Day FAQs

Does Andalusia have a president?

Yes. The current president of Andalusia is Juan Manuel Moreno Bonilla.

What language is spoken in Andalusia?

Spanish is the official language, although you will find different dialects depending on the region.

Is Andalusia a small community?

Andalusia is home to over eight million people so, a relatively large population considering its size, a little over 87,000 kilometers square.

How to Observe Andalusia Day

Spend time with friends and family

Celebrate with color

Use the hashtag

For all the wonderful Andalusian people, celebrate this special day by taking the time to spend with friends and family. Also take a moment to reflect on what being part of a community means to you.

Decorate your home, office, or place of business with colors representing Andalusia. The colors of their national flag are dark green and white.

Spread the sense of pride in the community on Andalusia Day by using the hashtag #andalusiaday on all your social media platforms. Start an online conversation.

5 Fun Facts About Andalusia

Largest population

Land of the vandals

Caves of Nerja

Christopher Columbus

Andalusia’s hinterland

Andalusia is one of the autonomous communities in Spain with the largest population.

Andalusia means ‘land of the vandals.,’ and refers to a German tribe that settled there in the third and fourth centuries and were considered destroyers.

In Andalusia’s Caves of Nerja, the earliest-known artwork in human history was found.

It was from Andalusia that Christopher Columbus embarked on his famous journey of discovering America.

Andalusia’s hinterland is the hottest region of Europe.

Why Andalusia Day is Important

It’s a declaration of independence

It’s an opportunity to have fun

It reminds us of the value of community

The day is a joyful reminder of the fact that Andalusia is a self-governing community. It’s a celebration of the region’s history in achieving sovereignty.

Andalusia Day affords individuals the chance to partake in activities. Look out for community events such as cultural week or festivals that pay homage to this day.

Andalusia Day promotes a great sense of community among Andalusians. The shared history helps to break down barriers.

Source

[chronically-ghosted]

marcus moreno x masterlist

[xx.masterlist.xx]

[One-shots]

have yourself a moreno little christmas (T) *@pedrostories Secret Santa '23 when the Morenos' happy Christmas is in jeopardy, you think quick and invite them on a trip to an old family tradition. If he’s grateful, would it be safe to tell him how you feel? But why do you think he might already know? What if he feels the same way?

[richincolor]

[Images are the covers for Gloria Buenrostro is Not My Girlfriend, Permanent Record, and When You Wish Upon a Lantern]

On the Job

This week I visited a bookstore and there were young people skipping through the store making lively instagram posts while they were working. It struck me that they would be awesome characters in a young adult novel and I would totally read that. Here are a dozen titles that feature young people hard at work. Of course the list begins with a story that takes place in a bookstore.

This is All Your Fault by Aminah Mae Safi Feiwel & Friends

Rinn Olivera is finally going to tell her longtime crush AJ that she’s in love with him.

Daniella Korres writes poetry for her own account, but nobody knows it’s her.

Imogen Azar is just trying to make it through the day.

When Rinn, Daniella, and Imogen clock into work at Wild Nights Bookstore on the first day of summer, they’re expecting the hours to drift by the way they always do. Instead, they have to deal with the news that the bookstore is closing. Before the day is out, there’ll be shaved heads, a diva author, and a very large shipment of Air Jordans to contend with.

And it will take all three of them working together if they have any chance to save Wild Nights Bookstore.

The Boy in the Black Suit by Jason Reynolds Atheneum Books for Young Readers [K. Imani's Review]

Just when seventeen-year-old Matt thinks he can’t handle one more piece of terrible news, he meets a girl who’s dealt with a lot more—and who just might be able to clue him in on how to rise up when life keeps knocking him down—in this wry, gritty novel from the author of When I Was the Greatest.

Matt wears a black suit every day. No, not because his mom died—although she did, and it sucks. But he wears the suit for his gig at the local funeral home, which pays way better than the Cluck Bucket, and he needs the income since his dad can’t handle the bills (or anything, really) on his own. So while Dad’s snagging bottles of whiskey, Matt’s snagging fifteen bucks an hour. Not bad. But everything else? Not good. Then Matt meets Lovey. She’s got a crazy name, and she’s been through more crazy than he can imagine. Yet Lovey never cries. She’s tough. Really tough. Tough in the way Matt wishes he could be. Which is maybe why he’s drawn to her, and definitely why he can’t seem to shake her. Because there’s nothing more hopeful than finding a person who understands your loneliness—and who can maybe even help take it away.

When You Wish Upon a Lantern by Gloria Chao Viking

Liya and Kai had been best friends since they were little kids, but all that changed when a humiliating incident sparked The Biggest Misunderstanding Of All Time—and they haven’t spoken since.

Then Liya discovers her family’s wishing lantern store is struggling, and she decides to resume a tradition she had with her beloved late grandmother: secretly fulfilling the wishes people write on the lanterns they send into the sky. It may boost sales and save the store, but she can’t do it alone . . . and Kai is the only one who cares enough to help.

While working on their covert missions, Liya and Kai rekindle their friendship—and maybe more. But when their feuding families and their changing futures threaten to tear them apart again, can they find a way to make their own wishes come true?

Café Con Lychee by Emery Lee Quill Tree Books [Audrey's Review]

Sometimes bitter rivalries can brew something sweet

Theo Mori wants to escape. Leaving Vermont for college means getting away from working at his parents’ Asian American café and dealing with their archrivals’ hopeless son Gabi who’s lost the soccer team more games than Theo can count.

Gabi Moreno is miserably stuck in the closet. Forced to play soccer to hide his love for dance and iced out by Theo, the only openly gay guy at school, Gabi’s only reprieve is his parents’ Puerto Rican bakery and his plans to take over after graduation.

But the town’s new fusion café changes everything. Between the Mori’s struggling shop and the Moreno’s plan to sell their bakery in the face of the competition, both boys find their dreams in jeopardy. Then Theo has an idea—sell photo-worthy food covertly at school to offset their losses. When he sprains his wrist and Gabi gets roped in to help, they realize they need to work together to save their parents’ shops but will the new feelings rising between them be enough to send their future plans up in smoke?

Darius the Great Deserves Better (Darius The Great #2) by Adib Khorram Dial Books for Young Readers

In this companion to the award-winning Darius the Great Is Not Okay, Darius suddenly has it all: a boyfriend, an internship, a spot on the soccer team. It’s everything he’s ever wanted–but what if he deserves better?

Darius Kellner is having a bit of a year. Since his trip to Iran this past spring, a lot has changed. He’s getting along with his dad, and his best friend Sohrab is only a Skype call away. Between his first boyfriend, Landon, his varsity soccer practices, and his internship at his favorite tea shop, Darius is feeling pretty okay. Like he finally knows what it means to be Darius Kellner.

Then, of course, everything changes. Darius’s grandmothers are in town for a long visit while his dad is gone on business, and Darius isn’t sure whether they even like him. The internship isn’t what Darius thought it would be, and now he doesn’t know about turning tea into his career. He was sure he liked Landon, but when he starts hanging out with Chip–soccer teammate and best friend of Trent Bolger, epic bully–well, he’s just not so sure about Landon anymore, either.

Darius thought he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he deserves better.

K-pop Confidential by Stephan Lee Point [Crystal's Review]

Candace Park knows a lot about playing a role. For most of her life, she's been playing the role of the quiet Korean girl who takes all AP classes and plays a classical instrument, keeping her dreams of stardom-and her obsession with SLK, K-pop's top boyband-to herself. She doesn't see how a regular girl like her could possibly become one of those K-pop goddesses she sees on YouTube. Even though she can sing. Like, really sing.

So when Candace secretly enters a global audition held by SLK's music label, the last thing she expects is to actually get a coveted spot in their trainee program. And convincing her strict parents to let her to go is all but impossible ... although it's nothing compared to what comes next.

Under the strict supervision of her instructors at the label's headquarters in Seoul, Candace must perfect her performance skills to within an inch of her life, learn to speak Korean fluently, and navigate the complex hierarchies of her fellow trainees, all while following the strict rules of the industry. Rule number one? NO DATING, which becomes impossible to follow when she meets a dreamy boy trainee. And in the all-out battle to debut, Candace is in danger of planting herself in the middle of a scandal lighting up the K-pop fandom around the world.

If she doesn't have what it takes to become a perfect, hair-flipping K-pop idol, what will that mean for her family, who have sacrificed everything to give her the chance? And is a spot in the most hyped K-pop girl group of all time really worth risking her friendships, her future, and everything she believes in?

A Pho Love Story by Loan Le Simon Pulse

If Bao Nguyen had to describe himself, he’d say he was a rock. Steady and strong, but not particularly interesting. His grades are average, his social status unremarkable. He works at his parents’ pho restaurant, and even there, he is his parents’ fifth favorite employee. Not ideal.

If Linh Mai had to describe herself, she’d say she was a firecracker. Stable when unlit, but full of potential for joy and spark and fire. She loves art and dreams pursuing a career in it. The only problem? Her parents rely on her in ways they’re not willing to admit, including working practically full-time at her family’s pho restaurant.

For years, the Mais and the Nguyens have been at odds, having owned competing, neighboring phở restaurants. Bao and Linh, who’ve avoided each other for most of their lives, both suspect that the feud stems from feelings much deeper than friendly competition.

But then a chance encounter brings Linh and Bao together despite their best efforts and sparks fly, leading them both to wonder what took so long for them to connect. But then, of course, they immediately remember.

Can Linh and Bao find love in the midst of feuding families and complicated histories?

Permanent Record by Mary H.K. Choi Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers [Crystal's Review]

After a year of college, Pablo is working at his local twenty-four-hour deli, selling overpriced snacks to brownstone yuppies. He’s dodging calls from the student loan office and he has no idea what his next move is.

Leanna Smart’s life so far has been nothing but success. Age eight: Disney Mouseketeer; Age fifteen: first #1 single on the US pop chart; Age seventeen, *tenth* #1 single; and now, at Age nineteen…life is a queasy blur of private planes, weird hotel rooms, and strangers asking for selfies on the street.

When Leanna and Pab randomly meet at 4:00 a.m. in the middle of a snowstorm in Brooklyn, they both know they can’t be together forever. So, they keep things on the down-low and off Instagram for as long as they can. But it takes about three seconds before the world finds out…

The Way You Make Me Feel by Maurene Goo Farrar, Straus and Giroux [Jessica's Review]

Clara Shin lives for pranks and disruption. When she takes one joke too far, her dad sentences her to a summer working on his food truck, the KoBra, alongside her uptight classmate Rose Carver. Not the carefree summer Clara had imagined. But maybe Rose isn’t so bad. Maybe the boy named Hamlet (yes, Hamlet) crushing on her is pretty cute. Maybe Clara actually feels invested in her dad’s business. What if taking this summer seriously means that Clara has to leave her old self behind?

Symptoms of a Heartbreak by Sona Charaipotra Imprint [K. Iman's Review]

The youngest doctor in America, an Indian-American teen makes her rounds―and falls head over heels―in the contemporary romantic comedy Symptoms of a Heartbreak.

Fresh from med school, sixteen-year-old medical prodigy Saira arrives for her first day at her new job: treating children with cancer. She’s always had to balance family and friendships with her celebrity as the Girl Genius―but she’s never had to prove herself to skeptical adult co-workers while adjusting to real life-and-death stakes. And working in the same hospital as her mother certainly isn’t making things any easier.

But life gets complicated when Saira finds herself falling in love with a patient: a cute teen boy who’s been diagnosed with cancer. And when she risks her brand new career to try to improve his chances, it could cost her everything.

It turns out “heartbreak” is the one thing she still doesn’t know how to treat.

In her solo debut, Sona Charaipotra brings us a compelling #ownvoices protagonist who’s not afraid to chase what she wants. Symptoms of a Heartbreak goes from romantic comedy highs to tearjerker lows and is the ultimate cure-all for young adult readers needing an infusion of something heartfelt.

The Downstairs Girl by Stacey Lee G.P. Putnam’s Sons [Crystal's Review]

Atlanta, 1890: By day, seventeen-year-old Jo Kuan works as a lady’s maid for the cruel daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Atlanta. But by night, Jo moonlights as the pseudonymous author of a newspaper advice column for the genteel Southern lady, “Dear Miss Sweetie.” When her column becomes wildly popular, she uses the power of the pen to address some of society’s ills, but she’s not prepared for the backlash that follows when her column challenges fixed ideas about race and gender.

While her opponents clamor to uncover the secret identity of Miss Sweetie, a mysterious letter sets Jo off on a search for her own past and the parents who abandoned her as a baby. But when her efforts put her in the crosshairs of Atlanta’s most notorious criminal, Jo must decide whether she, a girl used to living in the shadows, is ready to step into the light. With prose that is witty, insightful, and at times heartbreaking, Stacey Lee masterfully crafts an extraordinary social drama set in the New South.

[gwenivere]

       *    💘 — what and/or who do you consider near and dear to you? ✈️ — ever traveled anywhere interesting? 🎮— favorite video game(s)? 🖊— any tattoos? 🍰 — favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)? 🐶 — any pets? 📕 — favorite book/series? 😗 — what are some of your favorite things to do when you have some time to yourself? 💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you. !!          ›          @manaborn      ,   prompt   [ … ]   accepting

💘 — what and / or who do you consider near and dear to you? obviously , at the top of my list , there's my family , composed of my mother , father and younger sibling .   also high up there is my girlfriend , carmen , who was also one of my first partners on here funnily enough .   these four , alongside my best friend , are the people i consider the closest and dearest to me .   in terms of objects , i'd have to answer books and tea , if only because i love both and they play an instrumental part in my daily life .   i would also consider my job to be something near and dear to me , if only because i'm lucky enough that i get to do something everyday that makes me happy .

✈️ — ever traveled anywhere interesting ? there are two places i consider to be the most interesting .   the first is sidney by the sea , a small town on the island of vancouver in western canada .   sidney by the sea is the country's sole booktown , and i had the privilege to spend an afternoon roaming through all of the various bookstores before watching the sun set in the sea at the nearby beach .   it's a wonderful place , if you can afford to go .   the other interesting place i've traveled to is lebanon .   i might be biased since i'm lebanese on my father's side , but i genuinely think the entire country is gorgeous and worth visiting , and i miss going there , although it's harder to visit now that my grandparents have both passed away .   i also sometimes joke with my family that lebanon is the only place in the world where you can choose to go ski in the morning and go to the beach in the evening .

🎮 — favorite video game(s) ? bloodborne is my favorite game ever , but other games i enjoy include the soulsborne series , identity v , the dishonored series , celeste and the house in fata morgana .   i also want to try splatoon , in spite of being bad at shooters , lol .   

🖊 — any tattoos ? unfortunately , no , since i'm scared of needles .   i was toying with the idea of getting the scarlet wing's flower or the red butterfly from mia goodwin's tomboy down the line , but since i'm approaching my thirties , i'm debating on whether or not i should since i am starting to consider myself too old for tattoos .   

🍰 — favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s) ? i'm fond of french pastries , mostly st. honoré cakes and religieuses , as well as more traditional lebanese sweets like qatayef and kadaif .   i also like strawberry shortcakes and mochis , as well as most gummies , peach rings especially .

🐶 — any pets ? none unfortunately , although i'd like to have one in the future once my girlfriend and i move in together .   i'd like to have a cat , but my sibling's allergic , so maybe a dog .

📕 — favorite book/series ? there are too many to enumerate , but some of my favorites include paradise rot by jenny hval , my sister the serial killer by oyinkan braithwaite , drive your plow over the bones of the dead by olga tokarczuk , her body and other parts by carmen maria machado , all's well by mona awad and nous , anastasia r. by patrice ordas and patrick cothias  ( which is available in french only )  .   in terms of series , i'm quite fond of the radiant emperor series by shelley parker-chan , the burning kingdom series by tasha suri and the magic of the lost series by c.l. clark .   books i'm looking forward to are silver nitrate by silvia moreno-garcia  ( which will include lebanese-mexican rep !! )  and a study in drowning by ava reid  ( my latest hyperfixation ) .

😗 — what are some of your favorite things to do when you have some time to yourself ? read and drink tea .   i also enjoy listening to music on my phone , although i am lucky enough to own a couple of cds by some of my favorite artists .   walking and exploring the nearby city is also something i enjoy doing by myself , alongside visiting bookstores or the national library .

😗 — what are some of your favorite things to do when you have some time to yourself ? read and drink tea .   i also enjoy listening to music on my phone , although i am lucky enough to own a couple of cds by some of my favorite artists .   walking and exploring the nearby city is also something i enjoy doing by myself , alongside visiting bookstores or the national library .

💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you. 1. my favorite flowers are lilac , hortensia and lavender .   2. i work as a teacher specialized in teaching immigrant kids and teens .   3 . my copy of a river through time  ( the first guinevere jones book by random house australia )   is signed by tamara hope , who played gwen in the show .

[moonflowcr]

🖋 + theo

backstories meme.

tw: family death, car accident mention

born to a young couple, they left theo for adoption as soon as he was born. there was nothing wrong with them, only that they were poor and didn’t have the means to raise a child in their circumstances, so they did what they thought best to give him a better chance at life that what he would have if they had decided to keep the baby. with that, they had one request: as his biological parents were jewish, they also wanted his adoptive ones to at least raise him in their same faith or leave the option for him to follow their traditions. luckily for them, his adoptive parents, which adopted him because she couldn’t get pregnant, were also jewist, so that met it very well. sadly, theo never got to met them since he was told they died when they both were near their fifties in a car accident.

his childhood was as normal as it could be: his adoptive parents were amazing, the family accepted him the moment he appeared in their lives and theo was raised to be a pretty normal kid, he easily made friends and was actually happy to go to school, excelling in maths and history. his parents were tolerant and never forced him to do anything he didn’t want, so he followed his passions without any oposition of his loving parents. same happened when he was in his late teenagers: he knew he wanted to go to college to study economics, so that’s what he did and his parents respected his decision.

his path crossed with anthony moreno’s when he hired him as his accountant and bookkeeper at the age of 28. theo had been working at banks and small private companies as an accountant, but that didn’t pay much. he wasn’t exactly in need for more money, but the moreno patriach made an offer he couldn’t refuse: double or even triple the salary he usually got from his previous jobs, which would translate in an improvement of life quality. after thinking about his offer for a whole week after he approached him (not even sure about how he knew of him, and he still rather not know about it), he started working for him despite not liking the way he conducted business, making very clear he wasn’t going to get involved in the illegal side of the business, not even if it was remotely unethical, but he wasn’t going to voice his concerns about working with a crime boss.

luckily for him, that changed when he died and his son andre took the reins of the business and made big changes, getting rid of the hierarchy and making everyone an equal within the business. theo still wanted to stay away of the criminal side of it, but at least andre was more receptive to it and respected his decision both as his co-worker and friend, so unlike his father did. theo became just the guy you went to when you needed to consult the finances or talk numbers before taking any big steps.