#CL Stock

[pastelaeqy]

wip

dbh brainworms have been lasting too long

[simgerale]

arlie noticed that the christmas tree was still not decorated, and so she took it upon herself to finish the job... as well as spill wine all over her clothes

[ghostgunbroker1]

Ghost Gun Broker got you cover

‪(415) 857-0205‬

The best way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun

[noctomania]

craigslist is where you can buy your first mattress from a fella who was clearly tweaking out for $40.

and i slept on that mattress for like a year.

[adnanfinowings]

Best 5 Education Sector Stocks in 2024- Trends & Advantages

Education is not merely a sector; it’s the cornerstone of progress and prosperity for any nation. In India, a country poised for growth and development, education plays a pivotal role in shaping the future workforce, fostering innovation, and building a knowledgeable society. As we look ahead to 2024, investing in the education sector presents compelling opportunities, particularly with companies that are leveraging technological advancements and addressing global educational trends.

1. Veranda Learning

Founded in 2018 under the leadership of Suresh Kalpathi, Veranda Learning has emerged as a powerhouse in the competitive exam preparation segment. With a robust market cap of 1937.26 and a remarkable 51.11% increase in value over the past year, Veranda Learning offers a wide array of courses tailored for various competitive exams. From state Public Service Commission exams to banking, insurance, and prestigious IAS and CA exams, Veranda Learning provides comprehensive long-term and short-term preparatory courses. Their commitment to quality education and strategic course offerings positions them strongly in the market.

2. Shanti Education

Established in 2009 as part of the Chiripal Group, Shanti Educational Initiatives Limited (SEIL) focuses on comprehensive school management solutions. Despite a high P/E ratio of 221.25 and a market cap of 1055.36, Shanti Education experienced a -22.46% decrease in value last year. However, SEIL continues to play a crucial role in developing educational facilities from preschool to grade 12. Their services span from infrastructure design to curriculum development, teacher training, and financial planning, catering extensively to the educational sector’s operational needs.

3. Global Education

Based in Mumbai with a branch in Nagpur, Global Education Ltd., founded in 2011, provides essential services ranging from branding and marketing to financial analysis and growth strategies for over 36 major organizations and institutes across India. Despite a modest P/E ratio of 16.49 and a market cap of 518.89, Global Education faced a -22.46% decline in value last year. Nevertheless, their expertise in educational consultancy and client satisfaction underscores their potential in navigating the evolving landscape of educational demands and challenges.

4. CL Educate

CL Educate Limited, established in 1996 and headquartered in New Delhi, stands as a leading education company in India. With a P/E ratio of 16.19 and a market cap of 469.31, CL Educate witnessed a commendable 37.75% increase in value over the past year. Known for its excellence in academic support and technological innovation, CL Educate caters to various educational segments, including test preparation and vocational training. Their commitment to transformative education continues to resonate positively with students and investors alike.

5. DroneAcharya Aerial

Founded in 2017 by Prateek Srivastava, Droneacharya Aerial Innovations Private Limited operates within Karnataka’s UAV sector under KEONICS. Despite a relatively high P/E ratio of 60.60 and a market cap of 424.84, the company showed a promising 31.19% increase in value last year. Specializing in the manufacturing of UAV machinery and equipment, Droneacharya Aerial exemplifies innovation within India’s technology-driven education landscape.

Conclusion

Investing in India’s education sector represents more than just financial opportunity; it’s a direct contribution to the nation’s future. As the sector continues to integrate technology, navigate global competition, and embrace online learning, companies such as Veranda Learning, Shanti Education, Global Education, CL Educate, Droneacharya Aerial, and Finowings Academy shine brightly. These institutions exemplify resilience, innovation, and a steadfast commitment to educational excellence. By investing in these stocks, individuals not only position themselves for potential financial gains but also support the transformative trends shaping the future of education in India.

[fmarkets]

Colgate Palmolive Company Delivers Exceptional Financial Performance in 2023, Setting New Industry Standards https://csimarket.com/stocks/news.php?code=CL&date=2024-02-16101748&utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[selenepsyche]

Your Venus Sign as an Iconic Female K-pop Visual

Hello everyone! Here's another fun post for y'all! Let me know which female you got in the comments down below! Also please know that the Venus sign won't be the idol's actual Venus sign (if it is then it's coincidental). But this is based off of my own observations.

Aries Venus - CL

CL (2NE1) is the perfect example of the Aries Venus. Her fashion style has always been bold, raw, unapologetic, and was one of the first female idols to fully own a "bad bitch" aesthetic. 2NE1 invented the "Girl Crush" concept but CL fully owned it. The main colors of most of her outfits consist of black, red, gold, and silver colors or jewelry. She can rock lace, leather, fur, or multi-patterned clothing. She absolutely rocks avant-garde and streetwear fashion. She has always been full of confidence and swagger, which makes it easier for her to rock those type of clothing.

Taurus Venus - Wonyoung

Wonyoung (IVE) has a fashion sense and visuals that are so Venusian to me. She always seems comfortable in her own skin. No matter what she's doing, she always looks composed and unbothered. Her fashion is elegant, fairy-like, and classy. Her signature style consists of ruffled skirts or dresses, lace or plain stockings, satin, Mary Jane shoes, ribbons, bows, vintage button up shirts or sweaters, and silver jewelry. She has innate and effortless beauty. She doesn't have to chase attention because she naturally gets it. She is always glowing and a true divine feminine.

Gemini Venus - Soyeon

The main thing I love about Soyeon (I-dle) is how she fits any concept that I-dle does. Whether the era consists of Y2K, burlesque, or streetwear fashion, she wears it with ease. She has changed her hairstyles many times as well. She can pull off anything and wears pretty much anything, so because of this I don't know what signature style to give her. She is like a fashion chameleon. She is also very charismatic, confident, and unpredictable.

Cancer Venus - Mina

Mina (Twice) has been seen in different types of fashion, but the one that suits her best is her soft, elegant, Old-Hollywood style of clothing. With this style, she usually wears satin or vintage style dresses, stiletto heels, long boots, lace, silver jewelry, or a casual blazer and skirt set. It's similar to Wonyoung's, but their vibes are different. In my opinion, Mina's beauty is more Cancerian because she looks and feels more gentle and mysterious, with soft expressions that pull you in. She is graceful with a dreamy aura and gentle movements.

Leo Venus - Jennie

Jennie (Blackpink) is a great example of a Leo Venus because she radiates main character energy without effort. Ever since she debuted in Blackpink, she has been seen as the it girl of her generation and has always been the most popular member. Even when she's not doing much, her presence is always felt. Jennie always wears outfits that are memorable, stylish, expressive, and statement-making. No matter the style, she always owns her outfits.

Virgo Venus - Yoona

Yoona (Girls' Generation) is a perfect example of a Virgo Venus. She wears clothes that are clean, refined, and minimalistic. She doesn't overdo her outfits nor her makeup. She embodies quiet elegance and grace. She doesn't really experiment with her style, just keeps it consistent and simple. She is known for being private and poised, which fits how Virgo's are usually full of dignity and subtly. She wasn't the original "Nation's Center" for no reason.

Libra Venus - Tzuyu

Tzuyu (Twice) has beauty that is harmonious, symmetrical, and effortless. Tzuyu has the kind of beauty that looks like she is a living art piece. Her presence feels peaceful and balanced. She usually wears flowy dresses, brighter colors, and gracefully tailored outfits. Her outfits don't ever feel out of place even if it's a style she rarely wears. But she definitely excels at wearing more formal, romantic, and elegant styles.

Scorpio Venus - Sunmi

I just love Sunmi. She has released versatile comebacks, but most of them still always carry a sensual and magnetic undertone to them. Her gaze and body language is always powerful. She always makes deep and powerful love songs (Heroine, Gashina, Tail), while releasing music videos with important and even darker messages (Noir), which is very Scorpio Venus coded. In her fashion, she usually wears black and red clothing, and sometimes floral patterns in short, flowy dresses.

Another thing I noticed is how she also wears florals a lot and even has flower visuals in some of her music videos. It's ironic because Scorpio Venus represents transformation and duality, which flowers perfectly represent. Flowers are beautiful and on the outside, but represent life, death, rebirth, and desire, which aligns with Scorpio's themes of transformation and and emotional depth. A flower can be crushed, plucked, and left to wither, which is similar to Scorpio's feelings of attachment and loss.

Sagittarius Venus - BIBI

Similar to Gemini Venus, I've noticed that Bibi's outfits are versatile, but a bit more experimental. One minute she's wearing a tightly fitted leather black dress with fish nets, the next minute she's wearing a big fluffy, multicolored dress. Then she gonna be wearing a bright and bold outfit with mismatched patterns and colors, then gonna hop in a simple cotton romper with only one or two colors on it. She is an absolute wild card and even knows how to blend certain styles, materials, and colors together to create a unique outfit.

Capricorn Venus - Krystal

Krystal (Fx) radiates an energy that is cool, composed, and chic. Her beauty reminds me of the old money aesthetic. She's luxurious and sophisticated. Her energy and fashion gives off quiet superiority and elite taste. She usually wears outfits in neutral and darker colors, such as brown, beige, white, black, dark blues, dark reds, and grey. She usually wears simple midi skirts, tailored women's suits, high heels or long boots, long and simple satin, cotton, flowy dresses, and occasional denim jeans with a simple shirt. She shows how less is more.

Aquarius Venus - Ningning

I feel like I can put Aespa as a whole group, but I decided to put Ningning because I feel like her outfits suit Aquarius Venus the most. Ningning's outfits are innovative, unique, and trend-setting. In my opinion, her stage outfits are some of the best out of all of Aespa's comebacks. Not only that, but the way she evolves in her fashion is amazing. One day, she could look cute and casual, then the next day she may look bold and glamorous, then after that she may look futuristic, and it'll all feel and look natural. Her beauty and style is unconventional and original.

Pisces Venus - IU

IU truly embodies everything about a Pisces Venus. She's like poetry in motion. Her beauty is soft, mystical, dreamy, and ethereal. She usually wears outfits that seem like they're straight out of a fairytale book. She wears pastel colors, lose and sheer fabrics, short dresses with detailed cuts and jewels on them, florals, and silver accessories with heels or short boots. She radiates a beauty that attracts many people, yet is subtle and bittersweet.

Thank you all so much for reading this post! This was very fun to make, especially since I love fashion a lot as well. I hope you all enjoyed this and if you have any question, leave them down in the comment section!

dividers: @uzmacchiato & @anitalenia pictures: Pinterest

© selenepsyche - All Rights Reserved

[kiwriteswords]

Omg based on the gifs you reblogged with our man and his tight shirts, could you write a story (maybe christmas) where Reader keeps buying Hotch shirts that are too tight and hes like why? and has to explain lololol

He's a little bit older...got a bit of a dad bod [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: >1k|| AN: omg YES. YESS. YES. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. The title is a nod to Sabrina Carpenter's Christmas Song! xoxo

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, dad bod Hotch, Hotch x His Tight Button-Ups, Christmas Morning, Christmas activities, Gift Giving, Established Relationship, BAU Reader, mentions of weight changes/body changes, Jack is present, age-gap relationship

Summary: You really...really love Hotch in his tight button-ups, so you choose not to size up this Christmas for his gifts.

Aaron Hotchner woke early on Christmas morning, the subtle glow of winter light filtering through the curtains. The tree in the living room twinkled with lights, the gifts beneath it carefully wrapped. Hotch was always the first to rise, a habit from years of early morning cases. Today, though, it was the excitement that nudged him from sleep. This Christmas was special—not just because of the holiday, but because he was sharing it with you and Jack.

You stirred beside him, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you felt him shift. "Morning," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep but bright with the day's joy.

"Morning," Hotch replied, his voice low. He watched as you stretched, the corners of your eyes crinkling with a smile. "Ready to see what Santa brought?"

You laughed, the sound as warm as the blankets piled around you. "Only if I get coffee first."

Hotch grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed to start the coffee. By the time he returned with two steaming mugs, Jack was already rummaging through the stockings, his excitement palpable.

The morning passed in a flurry of ripped wrapping paper and joyful exclamations. Hotch couldn't help but feel a profound sense of contentment watching you and Jack. You had integrated into their lives seamlessly, bringing a lightness to their home that Hotch hadn't realized was missing.

When Jack finally settled down with his new video games, Hotch found you in the kitchen, tidying up the remnants of the morning’s chaos. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Thank you for the shirts," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "But I think I might need a bigger size these days."

You turned in his arms, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh? And why is that?" you teased.

Hotch chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Well, it seems I've filled out a bit more than I used to." He wasn't ashamed of it—his body had changed, but he felt strong, healthy. And if the way your gaze lingered on him lately was any indication, you didn't seem to mind the changes either.

Your smile widened, and you reached up to trace the collar of his shirt, the fabric taut across his shoulders. "I've noticed," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And I have to say, I really like it. The way your shirts fit now... it’s incredibly attractive."

Aaron Hotchner felt a familiar warmth spread through him, a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee or the fire crackling in the living room. He was acutely aware of the changes in his body over the years. He wasn't as lean as he had been when Jack was born, or even when you first met him. Getting older, his fitness routine was not quite what it once was; he sometimes worried about how these changes were perceived, especially by someone younger like you.

"Yeah?" he asked, a part of him needing to hear more, to understand how you saw him.

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw. "Yeah. It suits you. It’s…really hot," you confessed, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Hotch laughed, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. "Well, I'm glad you think so," he said, and then, softer, "because there's no one else's opinion I care about more than yours."

You blushed at his words, your eyes shining with affection. "Good," you said simply. Then, with a teasing poke to his chest, you added, "Maybe Santa should bring you some more of those shirts next year."

Hotch pretended to consider it, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Only if Santa agrees to keep making comments on how hot they look on me."

"You have no idea," you laughed, leaning in closer. "Sometimes, at work, it's honestly a little distracting." Your voice dropped to a playful whisper, "There are meetings where I'm definitely more focused on your...shirt situation than the case briefings."

Hotch's eyebrows rose, his lips curving into a smirk at your confession. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone equally teasing.

"Absolutely," you affirmed with a nod. "Especially when you're up there giving a profile, all serious and command-mode with your suit jacket off... It’s a lot to handle," you grinned, poking him again gently.

Hotch's laughter filled the kitchen, deep and heartfelt. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. "Well, I'll have to make sure take the jacket off more often then, just to keep things interesting," he quipped.

"I'd appreciate that," you said, your eyes alight with mischief. "Maybe I'll even start a personal rating system for them. You know, to provide feedback."

"Looking forward to your reviews," Hotch replied, the warmth in his voice reflecting the warmth in his chest. This easy banter, the shared smiles, they made everything feel right.

This Christmas, like all the moments since you'd joined his life, felt complete. Hotch knew there would be challenges ahead, cases to solve, and long nights. But with you by his side, sharing whispers and stolen kisses between cups of coffee and Christmas lights, he felt ready for anything.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

@iyskgd

[zeroseuniverse]

Just Another Tuesday

Word Count: 861 Summary: Soul hums in agreement, tilting his head to admire their work. “No one suspects a thing.” Across the room, Keeho chokes on his drink. Pairing: Soul X Reader

Taglist:@torkorpse @agaha127 @lcvejjoong @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120

Navigation

Soul leans back in his chair, stretching lazily as he watches the stock market crash in real-time on the giant monitor in front of them. The numbers plummet, red flashing across the screen in warning signs that should be sending major investors into full-blown panic mode.

You? You’re perched on the arm of his chair, sipping boba like this is just another Tuesday night.

“We are actual masterminds,” you muse, stabbing your straw through a tapioca pearl.

Soul hums in agreement, tilting his head to admire their work. “No one suspects a thing.”

Across the room, Keeho chokes on his drink.

Because, see, the thing is—everyone suspects a thing.

Or, more accurately, P1Harmony knows exactly what’s going on.

Keeho gives Theo a slow, pained look, but Theo is too busy scrolling through Twitter, watching a thread unravel in real-time about mysterious cybercriminals who keep taking down corrupt corporations. Every tweet is full of speculation, wild theories, and ominous warnings from so-called financial experts.

What none of them realize is that the 'criminal masterminds' are sitting on their couch, loudly debating whether or not to DoorDash milkshakes.

Jiung, who’s been quietly suffering for weeks, finally speaks up. “You guys do realize you’re the worst criminals ever, right?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

Jiung gestures vaguely at Soul’s laptop, where a Google Doc literally titled ‘Chaos Plans 101’ is open. Not even password protected.

Keeho groans, rubbing his temples. “I mean, honestly, the hacking? Impressive. The execution? Messy. The subtlety? Negative ten.”

“But no one’s caught us,” Soul says with an infuriatingly confident smirk.

Intak snorts. “That’s because we keep covering for you.”

“…What?”

Theo, still scrolling Twitter, waves a hand. “Yeah, like, remember last week when you accidentally left your real name in that leaked email thread?”

Your stomach drops. “Wait, what?”

Jongseob sighs, so, so tired. “I had to backdoor into their servers and delete it before it went public.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Jongseob repeats, voice slightly higher-pitched. “That’s all you have to say? Oh?”

Soul nudges you, muttering under his breath, “See? Told you we should’ve used code names.”

“Oh my God.” Keeho looks physically pained. “That is not the issue here!”

-

Things come to a head when the two of you—because you are agents of chaos—decide to take down a tech giant while sitting at a very public café during brunch.

A brunch, by the way, that all of P1Harmony is also attending.

“I bet you I can tank their stock by 20% before the check arrives,” you whisper, grinning as you tap away at your tablet.

Soul smirks, leaning over. “Make it 25%, and I’ll pay for your meal.”

Intak, sipping his coffee across from you, does not like the way this conversation is going.

Jiung looks at the waiter and, with deep exhaustion, says, “Can I get this to go?”

Keeho just pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters, “I am going to die at 35 because of you two.”

Ten minutes later, the café television flashes with breaking news about said tech giant losing billions in market value. People start gasping, whispering, checking their phones.

And you? You just take a smug sip of your mimosa.

The entire table stares at you.

Jongseob, voice hollow, asks, “Did you seriously just commit financial terrorism over eggs benedict?”

Soul shrugs. “They overcharge for their streaming services.”

Keeho physically has to restrain himself.

-

Enough is enough.

Keeho, the ever-suffering leader, calls a meeting.

You and Soul are sat down in the living room like two misbehaving children. Jiung, Intak, and Theo are perched on the couch, arms crossed. Jongseob has a PowerPoint presentation ready.

Keeho clears his throat. “We are deeply concerned for a number of reasons.”

Jongseob clicks the first slide. It’s a screenshot of your hacked document, labeled 'Secret Plans - DO NOT OPEN (Unless You're Cool)'.

Theo coughs to hide his laughter. Jiung does not.

The next slide shows a list of your crimes with the header: ‘Ways in Which You Two Are Horrible at Hiding Your Villain Era.’

Some highlights include:

Using your own emails to register fake offshore accounts.

Nearly blowing your cover by laughing too hard at Twitter conspiracies.

Loudly whispering things like “Hey, what if we framed a CEO for fraud” in very public places.

Soul frowns. “That last one was a joke.”

Intak raises an eyebrow. “Was it?”

“…No.”

Keeho takes a deep breath. “Look. We’re not asking you to stop.”

You and Soul glance at each other. “Wait, really?”

Keeho sighs. “I mean, at this point, whatever. Just… try not to get arrested? Maybe? For our sake?”

Jongseob flips to his last slide, where bold red text reads: USE A VPN, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Soul tilts his head. “We could do that.”

You nod thoughtfully. “Yeah. Seems reasonable.”

Keeho visibly relaxes.

Then you grin. “Or we could—”

“NO.” Everyone shouts at the same time.

You and Soul laugh. Because, let’s be real—you’re definitely not stopping.

And P1Harmony? Well, they’re just going to have to keep cleaning up after you.

[letsdosciencetoit]

I'm Where The Spiders Go - Chapter 1

I've gone ahead and started posting I'm Where The Spiders Go. I think the first part is going to be 12 chapters. This is more angst than "Sun in the Afternoon," so a bit of a different vibe.

Summary: Tommy doesn't take the step to transfer to Harbor Station. Without a vacant spot at the 118, Buck is hired on to the 122 instead. How do things change without the influence of the 118 on Buck's early career, and how does Tommy handle remaining in the closet.

Of course they meet a little earlier with the common connection of Sal Deluca.

On AO3: I'm Where the Spiders Go

Chapter 1: New Beginnings - 3557 Words - Chapter rating, M. Overall rating will be E.

Fall 2017

Evan finishes LAFD Fire Academy top of his class. Twenty-two weeks of his life that he’s dedicated to the academy while he tends bar.  He doesn’t make a big deal of it; the class ranking, not that he finished.  He’s going to celebrate the hell out of coming to the end of the training.  It’s the ranking portion that’s weird to him.  He was never the most academically inclined; got kicked out of community college.  No one ever described him as the brains of the operation.

He’d never been worried about the physical aspects, the fact that he excelled at the rest of it was as surprising to him as it was to the rest of the class.  The material was fascinating; it didn’t feel like work, he just wanted know more.  He wanted to learn the material, and understand the why about it, and why it mattered. 

He has the technical rescue and engineer specializations.  It makes him somewhat in demand, he knows, but no one can really tell him why one station is better than the others, so he knows he’s just going to sign the first concrete offer he receives.  The pay is the same anyway.  He just wants to do the job.  It feels right in a way nothing else has in his life.  He just knows he’s going to make a difference.

Connor claps him on the shoulder, leading him to the uber out front of their shared house. “You did it, buddy!  Drinks are on me!”

***9-1-1***

He ends up signing with the 122 for his probationary year. He’s given a start date, and the name of the captain. He parks his old jeep behind the station and takes a minute to psych himself up.  This is what he spent the last six months training for.  He steps out of the jeep, throws his bag over his shoulder, and forces his feet to move towards the station. 

The captain’s office is easy to find, and no one stops him as he walks up the stairs.  There are two men in the office, clearly shooting the shit.  The one behind the desk, the captain, has a grey hair, and a matching grey mustache. His face is lined with wrinkles, but the laugh lines and crows feet in the corner of his eyes make it obvious he is a man prone to smiling.

The other man is younger, but still older than Evan by several years at least.  He’s got dark hair, sharp cheek bones, and a strong chin.  He has strong shoulders and a broad chest; Evan wonders how much he can bench.

The conversation stops short when they notice Evan poking his head in the doorway.  He steps his whole body into the frame, trying not to hunch his shoulders.  “I’m Evan Buckley.  I was told to meet Captain Warren.”

“Ah, Buckley!  Good to have you here,” Captain Warren replies, the smile his face hinted at showing in full force.  “I’ve got my lieutenant, Salvator Deluca, here to show you around.”

Salvator outstretches his right hand, and Evan takes the hand in his own.  Salvator has a strong grip, and the force of the handshake threatens to pull him forward. Evan holds his ground, and meets the man’s eyes.  He sees the smile there first before it reaches Salvator’s face.

“Welcome to the 122, Evan,” Salvator greets.  “Everyone calls me Sal.  Let me show you around.”

“Everyone calls me Buck,” Evan replies, and falls into step behind Sal.

***9-1-1***

Buck doesn’t get let out on calls to start, but he gets very good at the chores.  He stocks the trucks and ambulance, cleans the washrooms without complaint, and gets to know the team’s lunch and coffee orders. 

There’s the hazing, or course.  Nothing harmful, nothing that would get him in trouble with the captain, but definitely pranks aimed to show him his place on the bottom rung of the ladder.  It reminds him of being asked to find the left-handed screwdriver when he was working construction. The worst he gets is wounded pride when he wears a little egg on his face.

Four weeks in, someone takes pity on him while they have downtime.  Buck’s been doing a lot of solo tasks around the firehouse; his just wrapped up cleaning the windows when he someone shouts his name from upstairs.

“Hey!  Buck!” he hears Oscar Serrano, one of the firefighter paramedics on the team calls down to him.  “You have any experience in the kitchen?”

Buck jogs to the stairs, then takes them two at a time until he’s up with Oscar.  “I worked as a line cook for a little.  I know my way around a knife.”

“That’ll work.”  Oscar gives him a grin, then reaches into the fridge and passes him two large trays of chicken breast.  “We’re making enchiladas today.  They’ll keep until we have time to bake them if we get called out, feed a crowd, and taste okay reheated.  Dice those and the onions over there while I prep the sauce.  You impress me and I might even teach you how to make my abuela’s sauce recipe.  It’s the worst kept family secret.”   

Buck sets the trays on the counter and searches for the knife and cutting board.  He lets Oscar dictate how fine the dice should be.  It’s more a rough chop, but he loses himself in the rhythm of the knife cutting through meat and vegetable as Oscar talks about his abeula’s kitchen on the holidays.    Buck feels a little wistful at the image Oscar is painting of a family together, gathered around food and celebration.  It’s completely different than the household he grew up in, where he was constantly shooed out of the kitchen while the adults were cooking.

He must do enough to impress Oscar, because the other man starts talking about the best place to buy the spices by the station, and lets Buck assist in assembling the enchiladas and loading them into the large aluminum pans.  They pour the large batch of sauce over them, and load them into the oven. 

As luck would have it, no calls come in while the food is cooking.  Buck helps Oscar prep a simple green salad, then they call the shift up to grab food.  Everyone slaps Oscar on the back, thanking him for taking the time to cook.  A few even thank Buck before grabbing their plates and taking seats around the lounge. 

Buck waits until everyone else has grabbed their food before dishing up a plate.  Oscar calls him over to where he’s sitting with Sal, so Buck dutifully joins them.

“Good job with these,” Sal acknowledges, gesturing to both of them with a loaded fork.  “You cook at home, Buck?”

Buck shakes his head, a little sheepish. “Nah. I’m currently living with 4 other guys.  There isn’t really a lot of space for cooking.”

“Damn shame if you ask me,” Oscar offers.  “With a little guidance you could be a natural in the kitchen.”

Sal laughs. “Gina does the cooking at home, but Oscar here is a regular Martha Stewart.  I think he missed his calling as a chef.”

Oscar shoves Sal’s shoulder for the comment, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable with the comment.  “I’m trying to channel Elena Reygadas – best food in Mexico city.  I’m leaving the baking and homemaking to Maria, my wife.  She’s a data analyst, but she has a much better eye for detail, so she’s the one you want if it needs to look presentable.”

Sal hums in agreement.  “That actually explains a lot about you, Oscar.  Can you ask her to make that Tres Leche again?   That shit is positively orgasmic.”

Buck lets the conversation wash over him.  Firefighting has felt like his calling, but for the first time the station feels like it might be somewhere he could belong.

***9-1-1***

The problem with so much down time being man behind is that Buck finds himself with too much time on his hands and not enough work to focus his brain on. 

He finds himself mindlessly scrolling on Tinder and Bumble.  There’s no shortage of attractive and available women in LA.  It doesn’t take him a lot of time or effort to find one that’s interested in hooking up with a firefighter. 

At first, he spends the time messaging the women about meet ups for drinks, and encounters when he’s off shift.  He’s honestly surprised at the number of women available after he gets off a 24 hr shift, although it tracks with the number of people working gigs and making their own hours. 

It feels good, for a little while.  After traveling across the country on his own, he thought he would enjoy living with the guys. There was always someone in the house, so he never had to be alone, but the togetherness lacked any kind of connection or intimacy.  He certainly gets the intimacy from these women, and he’s good at it, too. 

He’s always been good with women.  Not in the “I know the tricks to make sure I get laid,” kind of way, but in the, “women are people, too” way.  He’s always had female friends, in part because he’s always treated them as friends, rather than someone he was hoping to “get lucky” with.  He gets good at flirting, too.  Easy banter to test the waters and gauge their interest; he knows when to turn it on and dial it back based on the responses he gets.  It starts to be almost second nature to him.

The apps take the challenge out of it, to an extent.   He knows that they’re DTF right from the get go, and from there it’s just a matter of convincing them he’s not a creep and knows how to show them a good time.  The pictures he’s selected draw them in.  From there he just has to sound a step above coherent and not send an unsolicited pic.

Maybe that’s why he says yes to “MacAttack95” when she tells him through messages that she doesn’t want to wait until he gets off shift.  Her location has her nearby, she has an hour to kill, and she’s always wanted a tour of a fire house.  Buck is man behind again, the rest of the crew having just left for a multi-car pile-up that will probably take the rest of the afternoon.  The chores are up to date, supplies are stocked, and Buck is currently left to his own devices.

Mackenzie shows up and parks her sedan behind the station.  She’s dressed in business casual and looks even better than her profile picture.  It’s the way her brown hair is pulled back, the way she has a gap between her front teeth when she smiles at him.  He sees her clock the birthmark above his eye, but she doesn’t mention it.

“You ready for the grand tour?” he asks, sweeping his arm towards the station behind him.  Its devoid of vehicles, all hands on deck at the call.  She smiles anyway.

“Do I get to go down the fire pole?” She fires back with a grin.

Buck winks at her.  “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

***9-1-1-***

Mackenzie is long gone before the engine, ladder truck and ambulance return.  All evidence of the encounter has been scrubbed clean.

Buck is in the washroom at the urinal when the door slams open and Sal comes to stand next to him.  He opens his pants to relieve himself without making eye contact.   His voice is soft and clear when he speaks.

“I don’t care what the fuck you do in your off time, Probie.  You keep your shit out of this fire house or your gone.”

***9-1-1***

Tommy gets off shift and begs off going out for drinks with Hen and Howie.  It’s been a regular occurrence, the three of them grabbing drinks.  Captain Nash has joined them on occasion, but more often than not he recuses himself. 

It’s getting more uncomfortable to go out with the team, though.  Hen has Karen and Denny at home, and Howie has been dating Tatiana for nearly a year.  He can’t say he loves who Howie is when he’s around Tatiana, but Howie seems happy, so he isn’t going to say anything.

The problem with happy people in love, however, is that they want everyone around them to find love, too.  Howie has been pointing out any woman at the bar who gives Tommy a second glance.  Tommy’s had years of experience deflecting, but there’s only so many ways he can decline an advance before people start asking questions.

Tommy’s been used to keeping his private life private, something easy to do under previous captains.  Since Bobby took over and introduced family meal time the 118 is starting to feel like more of a family.  And like annoying siblings, his colleagues are feeling more comfortable starting to pry into what he does on his off hours.

Only Sal had even known about Abby, so he couldn’t even use the excuse of their break up with the team.  It’s easier to just avoid going out, but he’s not ready to go home to an empty house.

Its why he finds himself walking into another badge and ladder bar, closer to the 122.  Sal and his team are off shift, taking up a booth near the bar, and there’s an empty seat next to Sal.  Sal catches him coming in and flags him down. “Yo, Kinard! Over here!”

Tommy offers a shake of his head, fond and exasperated with Sal’s vociferous greeting.  He jerks a thumb to the bar, and goes to order a pitcher of whatever the table is sharing and the house brand they keep on tap.  He’s been to the bar enough to know it’s a decent microbrew.  He comes to Sal’s table with the pitcher and his pint, and takes a seat next to Sal.

“Rough shift?” Sal asks. It’s not the first time Tommy’s come out with the 122, but it isn’t a common occurrence.  They used to see each other more frequently, but since Sal left the 118 and Tommy’s ex was friends with Sal’s girlfriend it made the potential get togethers a little fraught. As far as Gina knows, he and Sal barely talk any more. 

“No worse than usual,” Tommy replies with a shrug.  “Just needed a break from the cozy family shit they’ve got going on.”

“Nash still doing the ‘Family Dinners?’” Sal asks derisively.  Despite the good thing he has going for him as Lieutenant at the 122 he’s still bitter about being looked over for captain for the 118. 

“We eat as a team, and I can’t say I mind it too much.  Nash definitely has skill in the kitchen.”  Tommy leans back and pats his waist.  “My PT regime is thankful, too.  We used to do a lot of take out, and my metabolism is not what is used to be.”

Sal raises a glass to cheers. “To getting older.”

Tomy clinks glasses with him.  “What has you feeling like an old man?  I’ve seen how flexible Gina is.  I’d think that would help you feel pretty spry.”

Even as the words are coming out of his mouth, Tommy feels like an asshole.  He’s been getting better at the 118 about reigning in the “Good old boy” persona, but something about being with Sal makes him fall back into old habits.  He’s about to apologize, but Sal just chuckles.

“Fucking probie,” Sal groans. “He’s been hooking up with chicks at the station.”

Tommy nearly spits his beer.  “What!”

“Yeah. Not sure how long or how often, but we came back from a call and he definitely had the air of a man well fucked.”  Sal ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.  “I’ve got no proof, but I know it.”

“Well shit,” Tommy drawled.  “What are you going to do about it?”

“Fuck if I know.  Not like I can ground him and leave him behind,” Sal says with a dry laugh.  “It’s how we got ourselves into this mess.”

Tommy raised an eye brow. “You ever consider bringing him out on a call?”

***9-1-1***

The house is full when Buck gets home, a last-minute party in full swing.  There’s a throng of people in the kitchen, and the floor is sticky under his boots.  He hates wearing footwear through the house, but it’s becoming a necessity these days.  The house doesn’t get clean unless he cleans it, and he’s been coming up with more and more excuses to keep away.

He weighs the odds of his leftovers still being in the fridge against the need to make small talk with the people currently occupying kitchen.  He notices one of the girls clock his LAFD shirt, fitting a little more snugly across his chest since it was issued.  He’s exhausted, and he’s been spiraling since Sal cornered him in the washroom, but he knows what he looks like.  He also knows the look in her eyes. 

He’s still holding her gaze when Connor comes bouncing into the kitchen. “Buck!  You’re here!” he says with excitement.  “Everyone!  This is Buck!  He’s a firefighter!”

“Probationary,” Buck clarifies, but no one seems to care.  The attention is on him, and he has the choice between bowing out and heading to his room alone, or dialing it up and holding the attention he’s currently getting. 

He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now, so he lets himself be drawn into the conversation.  The girl, Sarah, introduces herself and makes her way to his side, pressing against his arm.  He has 96 hours off, so he accepts the solo cup of beer Connor presses into his hands, and he jokes, and he smiles, and he pretends like he isn’t constantly man behind at the station and like he isn’t skating on thin ice. 

The party starts to wind down, but Sarah shows no signs of getting ready to leave with her friends.  The moment comes when he could encourage her to get into the car with them, but instead he reaches out and gently tucks her hair behind her ear.  He lets his fingers trail along her jaw, and she leans in to seal her lips to his.

She’s quick to straddle him on the couch, and despite the fact that Connor and Kameron are the only others in the room, Buck isn’t in the mood for an audience.  He uses his hands to grip her thighs and stands up in one smooth motion. 

Sarah lets out a little squeal of delight and wraps her legs around his waist.  He keeps kissing her as he carries her up the stairs to the privacy of his bedroom where they can continue behind a closed door.

***9-1-1***

Buck is gone from the bed long enough to clean up and dispose of the condom.  When he comes back, Sarah is already dressed and tucking her phone into her purse. 

“Don’t feel like you have to leave now,” Buck offers, sitting on the other side of the bed.

“I already ordered an uber,” she explained, sweeping her hair off her neck and tying it effortlessly into a messy bun. 

Buck takes it as an invitation, and leans across the bed to press a kiss against the nape of her neck.  She sighs into it.  The bed dips as he settles his weight onto it, and tries to draw her in once again.

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in staying the night?” he asks, half teasing, half serious.  It would be nice not to wake up alone.

She shakes her head and gets up from the bed, pulling away from him.

“This has been fun,” she says, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“Fun enough to give me your number?” he asks her.

She smiled at him, but he could tell she was turning him down before she even said the words.  “This has been fun, but let’s not pretend it means anything more than that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Buck agrees, tamping down any disappointment.  He’s great at reeling them in, but can’t do anything to get them to stick around more for more than a good time. He swallows and keeps his voice light.  “I’ll walk you out.”

He holds the door to his room open for her, and follows behind her as she walks down the stairs.  The floor in the kitchen is still sticky under his now bare feet, and he has to supress the full body shiver he feels at the unpleasant sensation.

The Uber is waiting for Sarah at the end of the driveway.  She doesn’t look back as she gets in the car, so Buck closes the door and turns the deadbolt.  From the kitchen, he can see Connor lying on the couch.  Kameron is asleep against him, and she doesn’t stir when Connor smiles and lifts a thumbs up to Buck.

Passing over the sticky floor once again, Buck decides to shower before going to sleep.  He turns the water as hot as he can stand, and scrubs at his skin with the soap until it’s red. He stays in the shower until the spray turns cold, but still doesn’t feel clean.

Tag List: @teabroomsandbooks, @adian-ua, @chococara25, @chemistry66 - drop me a comment if you want to be added

[amethystarachnid]

30. Holiday Movie Night with the Avengers (or X-Men) – The Avengers decide to have a Christmas movie marathon for the whole family. Your character is skeptical about the cheesy movies, but what happens when they get caught up in the holiday spirit?

My character is Tony Stark, please, and I'm a female reader ❤️ I was thinking that maybe they are best friends, and seeing how happy the reader is watching those movies, he'll realize he has feelings for her and in the next day he'll invite her to a date inspired in some movie scene and tell her he loves her and ask her to be his girlfriend and she'll say yes because she loves him too, and please, lots of kisses 🤭 ohh, and they can turn "watching movies" into their cute little tradition too 😊

Thank you 😊

MOVIE NIGHT & KISSES

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The living room of the Avengers compound looks like a Christmas card threw up all over it. Tony’s doing, obviously. You step inside, arms loaded with snacks—because you don’t trust Tony not to have stocked up exclusively on the weird gourmet stuff no one likes—and immediately trip over a tiny reindeer statue.

“Why?” you ask the air. Tony’s voice floats down the hallway before his actual appearance.

“Why what? Be more specific, or I’ll assume you’re asking why I’m fabulous.”

You roll your eyes and dump your cargo of chips, popcorn, and candy on the coffee table. “Why is there a deer the size of a toddler lying in wait for my ankles? It’s assault.”

Tony finally enters, grinning like he’s just pulled off a massive heist instead of, you know, redecorating. “You mean Blitzen? He’s festive. And you should really watch where you’re walking. Consider it a training exercise.”

“Blitzen,” you deadpan, already fishing around for scissors to open the snack bags. “You named the little menace Blitzen.”

“Of course, I did. What do you take me for, a savage? Anyway, what’s that—Pringles? Ugh, so pedestrian. Don’t worry, I’ve got foie gras chips in the kitchen.”

“Tony, no,” you say, cutting him off. “No one’s eating foie gras anything during movie night.”

“Fine. Keep your proletariat palate,” he huffs, but there’s no bite to it as he snags a bag of M&Ms and flops onto the couch like it’s claimed him.

The others start trickling in soon after, voices overlapping in that chaotic yet strangely comfortable way you’ve come to expect from these gatherings. Natasha is the first to spot the reindeer and gives you a knowing look.

“You trip over that thing yet?” she asks.

“Blitzen almost ended me,” you confirm, earning a snort.

“Is Tony naming inanimate objects again?” Steve asks, clearly trying and failing to hide a smile as he surveys the chaos.

“Not just naming them,” you say, gesturing at the garlands, twinkling lights, and a giant Santa hat perched on one corner of the TV. “He’s created an entire ecosystem.”

Thor, arriving last but with the biggest entrance, spots the reindeer and scoops it up like it’s an actual living thing. “What a curious creature!” he declares, cradling it as though it might respond. “May I keep it?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony says, looking horrified. “Blitzen is part of the ambiance.”

You try not to laugh, but it bubbles out anyway, and Tony shoots you a mock glare. “This is the respect I get from my so-called best friend? Unbelievable.”

“Your ‘best friend’ just saved movie night from foie gras chips, so I think I’ve earned the right to laugh,” you retort, throwing yourself onto the couch next to him.

The movie selection process devolves into chaos, as usual. Clint tries to sneak in a Christmas horror movie, Natasha threatens to walk out if it’s not something at least tolerable, and Steve insists on something “classic,” which somehow leads to a passionate argument over whether Die Hard qualifies as a Christmas movie.

Through it all, Tony leans closer to you, voice low. “If this debate goes on for another five minutes, I say we hijack the remote and put on Iron Man 3. Christmas and a superhero. Win-win.”

You snort, nudging him with your shoulder. “Tempting, but I don’t think your ego could survive the fallout.”

“Oh, please,” he replies, tossing an arm over the back of the couch—dangerously close to your shoulders, but you don’t mind. “My ego’s indestructible.”

Eventually, the group settles on a compromise: Home Alone, mostly because Thor declares he’s never seen it and everyone agrees watching his reactions will be worth it.

As the opening credits roll, Tony leans closer. “This is cozy,” he says, a bit quieter than usual. His fingers graze yours on the couch, almost hesitant.

It’s a small moment, but it feels like the beginning of something. You glance at him, catching his slight smirk and the way his eyes flick toward the screen—but not before they linger on you just a second too long.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling despite yourself. “It is.”

Kevin McCallister’s family is in full-on holiday chaos, and Thor is already narrating everything happening on screen like it’s the most thrilling battle sequence he’s ever witnessed.

“This small one is quite cunning,” Thor declares as Kevin rigs up a rudimentary alarm system using toy cars and string. “His enemies shall rue the day they underestimated him!”

“Thor, buddy,” Clint says between mouthfuls of popcorn, “we’re ten minutes in. The burglars haven’t even shown up yet.”

“Then they are fools!” Thor retorts, clutching the reindeer statue—Blitzen—to his chest like a comfort object. “He will outwit them with his warrior’s guile.”

Tony leans closer to you, and you can feel the warmth of him even before he murmurs, “You ever feel like we’re babysitting a very excitable golden retriever?”

You laugh, low and quiet. “A golden retriever with lightning powers. No pressure.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest where his arm is still casually draped over the back of the couch. You don’t even notice when his fingers start to toy idly with the fabric of your sleeve.

The movie continues, and Thor’s commentary only grows more dramatic. When Kevin sets up his elaborate booby traps, Thor sits up straighter, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

“A master tactician!” he declares, and when Kevin’s paint can swings down the stairs to clobber one of the burglars, Thor actually roars with laughter. “A fine blow! Truly, this child deserves to sit at the table of warriors!”

Natasha leans toward you, whispering just loud enough for you and Tony to hear. “We should tell Thor that Kevin’s real superpower is abandonment issues.”

Tony snorts into his drink, and you elbow him lightly. “Be nice,” you say, even though you’re stifling your own laughter.

The movie progresses, and somewhere between Kevin faking a party with mannequins and setting Harry’s head on fire, you start to shift closer to Tony without even realizing it. It’s not a conscious thing—you just naturally lean toward the warmth of him, especially when his arm slides from the back of the couch to drape over your shoulders.

You think it’s just Tony being Tony—he’s always been a tactile kind of guy, quick with a casual touch or a teasing nudge—but you don’t notice the way he freezes for half a second before relaxing again, his fingers brushing lightly against your upper arm.

The truth is, Tony’s barely paying attention to the movie anymore. He’s too busy fighting the sudden, overwhelming realization that he’s completely, undeniably in love with you. It hits him somewhere between Thor’s boisterous laughter and the way your hair catches the soft glow of the Christmas lights strung across the room.

He’s Tony Stark. He’s built suits that fly, survived impossible odds, and traded snark with gods—but the idea of telling you how he feels? That terrifies him.

So, instead, he lets himself have this moment. He lets himself enjoy the way you’re snuggled against his side, your head resting lightly against his shoulder, your laughter bright and unguarded as you watch the movie.

You, of course, are blissfully unaware of the internal crisis unfolding next to you. You’re too busy giggling at Thor’s indignant outrage when one of the burglars steps on a nail.

“That would never pierce true Asgardian steel!” Thor exclaims, pounding the arm of the couch for emphasis. “These mortal feet are most fragile.”

“It’s a movie, big guy,” Clint says, tossing a popcorn kernel in Thor’s direction. “You’re supposed to suspend disbelief.”

Thor catches the kernel mid-air with surprising grace and pops it into his mouth. “A strange custom,” he mutters, but he settles back down, still cradling Blitzen.

As the movie nears its climax, you shift slightly, tucking your legs up onto the couch. Without thinking, you rest your head more firmly against Tony’s shoulder, and his arm tightens around you just a fraction.

“This is nice,” you murmur, half to yourself.

“Yeah,” Tony replies, his voice softer than you’re used to hearing. “It is.”

He doesn’t look at the screen. He doesn’t need to. The way you fit against him, the way your laughter feels like the warmest part of the room—that’s all he cares about. But he’s Tony Stark, so he masks it with a quip. “Although I’m starting to feel personally attacked by how much Kevin loves duct tape.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest lightly. “If the suit fits…”

“I’ll have you know duct tape is a versatile and invaluable tool,” he says, grinning down at you. “It’s like me—underappreciated but indispensable.”

Natasha, who’s apparently been paying more attention to you two than the movie, leans over again. “You two gonna make it through the night without bickering like an old married couple, or should we set up counseling now?”

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d make an excellent husband, for the record.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm inexplicably. “Good to know, Tony. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He smirks, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his expression, something almost vulnerable, before he masks it with his usual bravado.

By the time the movie ends and Kevin’s family finally comes home, Thor is on his feet, applauding like he’s just witnessed the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time.

“A truly glorious tale!” he declares. “The boy is a hero of the highest caliber. I must share this story with the warriors of Asgard.”

Steve claps Thor on the back, clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m sure they’ll love it, big guy.”

The group starts to disperse after that, everyone gathering up their plates and drinks and muttering goodnights. Tony’s still sitting with you on the couch, his arm loose around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You staying?” he asks casually, but there’s a note of something more in his voice.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling up at him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He grins, and for a moment, you think there’s something different in his eyes—something softer, warmer—but then he’s back to his usual self, teasing you about stealing the good spot on the couch.

Neither of you moves, though. The others leave, the credits roll, and the room quiets, but you and Tony stay there, comfortably tangled together under the glow of the Christmas lights.

You sit at the small kitchen table in your apartment, cradling a mug of coffee and scrolling through your phone. The morning sunlight streams through the window, catching on the tiny particles of dust floating lazily in the air. It’s quiet, peaceful, a welcome contrast to the loud, boisterous chaos of movie night at the compound. You’re mid-sip when your phone buzzes with a message, and you glance down to see the sender: “Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️.”

Tony. Of course.

You smirk to yourself—he hates that nickname, which makes it all the more satisfying that it’s what you’ve saved him as. Opening the message, you find it’s short and to the point.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Hey, you free tonight?

Your eyebrows raise. Not a “good morning” or even a “hope you survived Blitzen.” Classic Tony, straight to the point. You type back quickly.

You: What’s it to you, Stark?

The response comes almost immediately.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Just answer the question, smartass.

You laugh into your coffee, shaking your head. It’s too early for this.

You: Yeah, I’m free. Why?

This time, there’s a slight pause before his next message comes through.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Good. I’m picking you up at 7. Wear something nice.

You nearly choke on your coffee.

You: Excuse me? What is this?

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: It’s called dinner. People eat it.

You: Are you bribing me with food?

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: No, I’m taking you to a restaurant.

You: Is this a date, Stark?

You’re joking—mostly—but the reply that pops up a moment later makes you freeze.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Yeah.

You blink at the screen, half expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something less earth-shattering. They don’t.

You: Seriously?

Three dots appear, disappear, and then reappear. Somewhere across town, you know Tony is staring at his phone with the same level of panic you’re feeling.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Yeah. Seriously.

Your heart stumbles into a gallop, and you stare at the phone, the words it’s a date looping in your mind like a broken record. You’re equal parts thrilled and terrified, your stomach doing flips like it’s auditioning for the circus. You’ve always known Tony flirts with anything that moves, but this… this feels different.

You: Okay. I’ll be ready.

You don’t know how you manage to type it without your hands shaking. On the other side of the city, Tony is probably sweating bullets, wondering if he’s just ruined everything. But as you set your phone down and glance at the clock, the only thing you can think is, Oh, God. I have nothing to wear.

By the time you’ve finished your breakfast, you’re mentally cataloging your closet and deciding nothing in it will do. You know Tony well enough to know that when he says “wear something nice,” he doesn’t mean a cute sweater and jeans. No, he’ll have picked some ridiculously fancy place where the appetizers cost more than your electric bill.

The afternoon turns into a whirlwind of trying on every remotely elegant outfit you own. The black dress? Too basic. The navy one? No, that’s what you wore to Natasha’s birthday last year. The red one? It’s a showstopper, sure, but is it too much?

You eventually settle on a dress you haven’t worn in ages—a deep emerald green number that fits like it was tailored just for you. Pairing it with heels and some understated jewelry, you give yourself one last critical look in the mirror.

“Not bad,” you mutter to your reflection, though the butterflies in your stomach are anything but calm.

By the time 7 o’clock rolls around, you’re pacing your apartment, trying not to overthink every detail. You’ve spent the entire day replaying Tony’s text messages, dissecting every word, and now you’re a bundle of nerves.

The buzz of your phone breaks the silence, and you check it to see another message from Tin Can Man.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: I’m downstairs.

Grabbing your coat and bag, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself. When you step outside, there he is, leaning casually against a sleek black car that looks like it costs more than your apartment building. He’s dressed impeccably, of course—dark suit, crisp shirt, no tie, but the top button undone just enough to scream effortless charm.

“You clean up well,” you say, trying to sound more composed than you feel.

Tony’s gaze sweeps over you, and for a moment, he doesn’t reply. His usual smirk softens into something you can’t quite place, something that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You look… wow,” he says finally, and it’s so un-Tony-like that you can’t help but laugh.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Stark.”

He grins, holding the car door open for you with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

As you slide into the car, you wonder if Tony’s as nervous as you are. If he is, he hides it well. But when he gets behind the wheel, you notice his grip on the steering wheel is just a little tighter than usual.

Neither of you says much during the drive, but the air is charged with something unspoken. When you arrive at the restaurant—a place so fancy it doesn’t even have a sign—you turn to Tony, arching an eyebrow.

“Subtle,” you tease, gesturing at the valet waiting to park the car.

Tony shrugs, smirking. “What can I say? I have a reputation to uphold.”

Inside, the restaurant is even more extravagant than you expected. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the soft hum of a piano drifts through the air. You’re suddenly very aware of how out of your element you feel, but Tony, ever the smooth talker, leads you to a table like he owns the place.

The evening unfolds in a blur of good food, light banter, and moments where you catch Tony looking at you with an expression that makes your cheeks warm. By the time dessert arrives, you’re no longer nervous—you’re just happy.

And maybe falling for your best friend wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

The restaurant is a swirl of elegance and opulence. You sit at a cozy, candlelit table near a window that offers a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The warm glow of the chandeliers dances off the pristine silverware, and the soft murmur of conversations fills the air like a melody. Across from you, Tony looks uncharacteristically calm—at least on the surface.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Stark,” you say, gesturing to the impeccably arranged plate in front of you. It’s some kind of artistically deconstructed dish that looks almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

“Outdoing myself is my specialty,” he replies with a wink, swirling the wine in his glass. But there’s something in his eyes, a flicker of nervousness he’s trying hard to hide.

The conversation flows easily as the courses arrive one by one. You talk about everything and nothing—the latest Avengers antics, your recent binge of terrible reality TV, and Tony’s latest tech project, which involves an overly ambitious plan to automate coffee-making robots.

“And how’s that working out?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, grinning. “Let’s just say I’ve destroyed two espresso machines and one microwave. But progress is progress.”

You laugh, the sound filling the small bubble the two of you have created. There’s a moment of quiet, the kind that feels comfortable and loaded at the same time. Tony’s gaze lingers on you, and you suddenly feel warm, the candlelight only adding to the effect.

“What?” you ask, your voice softer now.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Just… you look happy. I like it.”

You blink, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his tone. Tony Stark doesn’t do sentimental—not usually. But tonight, there’s something different about him, something almost vulnerable.

When dessert is served—a rich chocolate creation that looks like it belongs in a museum—Tony leans back in his chair, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“So,” he says, “you’re enjoying yourself?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” you reply, taking a bite of the dessert. “This is probably the fanciest dinner I’ve ever had.”

His smirk widens. “Good. Because the date hasn’t even started yet.”

You freeze mid-bite, narrowing your eyes at him. “What do you mean, hasn’t started? Tony, we’re literally on a date right now.”

He stands, tossing a few bills onto the table to cover the check—because of course he doesn’t wait for the server. Extending a hand to you, he says, “Trust me, sweetheart. This was just the warm-up.”

Curiosity and excitement war in your chest as you let him lead you out of the restaurant and back to the car. Once you’re settled in, he glances at you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

“Just… keep an open mind, okay?” he says, his voice quieter now.

“Tony Stark, what are you up to?”

“You’ll see,” he replies, his usual confidence tinged with something you can’t quite place.

The car ride is a blur, and when he finally pulls up to your next destination, your jaw drops.

The scene before you looks like something straight out of a movie—your favorite movie, to be exact. It’s an outdoor setting, lit by dozens of string lights and lanterns. A small, charming gazebo sits in the center, surrounded by fairy lights that twinkle like stars. There’s a vintage record player set up, softly playing the theme from the movie you’ve watched more times than you can count.

“Tony…” you whisper, stepping out of the car. “How did you—”

He shrugs, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his posture. “You mentioned it once. Something about how you thought this was the perfect date, so… I figured I’d give it a shot.”

You turn to him, your heart swelling so much it feels like it might burst. “You did this for me?”

“Yeah, well, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I just wanted it to be… special.”

“Tony,” you breathe, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “It’s perfect.”

He visibly relaxes at your words, his shoulders dropping a fraction. Taking your hand, he leads you toward the gazebo, where a small table is set with two glasses of champagne.

The two of you sit, the city’s bustle far away, the moment feeling almost surreal. You’re about to tease him about being a closet romantic when he stands suddenly, pacing a few steps before turning to face you.

“Okay,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “I had this whole speech planned, but it’s probably terrible, and I’m gonna screw it up, but—”

“Tony,” you interrupt, standing and moving closer to him. “What’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he says, his words rushing out in a way that makes your heart ache for him. “And I know I’m not exactly the easiest guy to deal with, and I probably don’t deserve you, but… I love you.”

Your breath catches.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steadier now. “And I want to know if you’ll—if you’ll be my girlfriend.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, the world spinning and standing still all at once. He looks so uncharacteristically vulnerable, his usual bravado stripped away, and it’s the most honest, beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Yes,” you say finally, your voice soft but sure.

His eyes widen. “Yes?”

“Yes, Tony,” you repeat, stepping closer and cupping his face in your hands. “I love you too.”

Relief floods his features, and then he’s pulling you into his arms, holding you like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that,” he murmurs against your hair.

You laugh, the sound full of joy. “You should’ve said something sooner, you idiot.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his grin finally returning. “Yeah, well, you know me. Always gotta make a scene.”

And as he leans down to kiss you, the world fades away, leaving only the warmth of his lips against yours, the twinkling lights around you, and the overwhelming feeling that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

The night sky stretches above you in all its vast, glittering glory, each star twinkling like tiny diamonds. The air is crisp but not too cold, the kind of chill that makes snuggling up feel like the best idea ever. You and Tony are still in the gazebo, but now you’re lying on a soft blanket, tucked close together, the twinkling lights overhead mixing with the stars.

Tony’s arm is wrapped around you, pulling you into his side like he doesn’t want to let go. His fingers trace light patterns along your arm, the sensation sending little shivers up your spine, though it’s not cold. It’s just him—his touch, his presence, everything about him.

You’re trying to focus on the sky, trying to keep your thoughts from wandering into how impossibly perfect this feels. The night is still, save for the soft rustling of the leaves in the trees around you, and the soft strains of the music drifting from the record player. The atmosphere feels like something out of a dream. This is a dream, right? Or maybe the best kind of reality.

“You know,” Tony says, his voice warm and full of that familiar teasing tone, “I had a whole speech planned for tonight. Thought I’d sound all suave, you know? But the second I saw you… I kinda forgot it all.”

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a smile. “You were going to give a speech?”

“Of course. I was gonna be all, ‘From the moment I met you, I knew you were destined to be mine,’ or something equally charming,” he replies, pretending to sound dramatic and smooth. He exaggerates the ‘destined’ part, earning a small laugh from you.

“And why didn’t you?”

Tony shrugs, giving you an exaggerated, almost childlike look. “Well, I got distracted by how ridiculously beautiful you look tonight. Didn’t really need the speech after all.”

You snort, glancing over at him. “Oh, so now you’ve forgotten how to flirt.”

“I never forget,” he says, sounding more like a proud peacock than anything else. He shifts so he’s leaning over you just a little more, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “I just use actions to back up my words, princess.”

“Oh, really?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the teasing tone in your voice, but your heart is already doing little somersaults in your chest.

Before you can finish your thought, Tony leans in, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. It’s quick, playful, but there’s something in it—something that sends warmth spreading through you from your cheeks all the way down to your toes. You giggle, brushing your nose.

“That’s how you back up your words? With nose kisses?”

“Nope.” His lips hover just above your skin, and he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

You grin, feeling giddy. “Well, you’re doing a good job of that, Stark.”

You tilt your head back, letting your hair spill out behind you like a waterfall, and your lips brush against his cheek in return. His breath hitches just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it. He turns his face toward you, and suddenly his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly sweet. It’s a kiss that lingers, slow and tender, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still.

He pulls back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours. You stay like that for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of him being so close. There’s no rush, no need for words—just the soft rhythm of breathing, the beating of two hearts that finally seem in sync.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Tony murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You grin, tilting your head to look up at him. “What? Because I’m capable of giving you a kiss on the cheek?”

“Oh, that’s not what I’m talking about, sweetheart,” Tony says, his voice suddenly softer, more vulnerable. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, and when he speaks again, there’s a tenderness in his voice that makes your chest tighten. “I’m talking about how you make me feel. How lucky I am to have you here. With me.”

You blink, heart flipping. “Tony…”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing under his breath. “I know I’m Tony Stark, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s got me totally wrapped around your finger.” He gives you a playful wink, but there’s something more genuine behind it.

“Look at you being all sentimental,” you tease, trying to hide the growing warmth in your chest.

He narrows his eyes playfully. “I’m sentimental for you, sweetheart. Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply with a soft laugh. “I think I could get used to it.”

You lean up to kiss him again, a little slower this time, but just as sweet. His hands slip around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get close enough. You’re pressed so tightly together that there’s no space left, no room for any doubts or anything that isn’t him. His lips move against yours, warm and eager, but he pulls back after a moment, his nose brushing against your cheek as he lets out a deep sigh.

“You know,” Tony says, his voice low and just a little breathless, “I’ve kissed a lot of people in my time, but none of them made me feel like this.”

You smile softly, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I’m glad I’m the exception.”

“Oh, believe me,” he mutters, leaning in for another kiss, “you’re definitely the exception.”

This kiss is different—deeper, more hungry, like he can’t quite get enough. His hands move from your waist, sliding up your back to cradle your head, pulling you even closer. You respond eagerly, feeling the heat between you growing, but Tony pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft and full of something you can’t quite name.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice surprisingly serious.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“Good overwhelmed?” He grins, his trademark cocky smirk returning.

“Very good overwhelmed,” you reply, laughing softly. “But you have a habit of kissing me senseless, Stark. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

He chuckles, his lips hovering near yours. “Sorry, can’t help it. You just make me so… damn happy. And I haven’t even told you how amazing you look tonight. Like, I’m seriously getting distracted just looking at you.”

You blush at the compliment, but Tony doesn’t give you much time to respond before he leans down and kisses you again, this time slower, gentler, with a lingering tenderness that makes your heart race in a different way. His lips are soft and warm, and when he pulls back, you’re both breathless, eyes fluttering open to meet each other.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” you say, your voice teasing, but there’s a hint of something deeper in it now.

Tony grins, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m pretty sure you just made my night. I’m never letting you go, you know.”

You laugh, poking him lightly in the chest. “Not that I’m complaining, but I think I might be the one who’s going to keep you.”

Tony presses another kiss to your lips, this one playful, with a promise of more to come. He can’t stop himself now. He wants you—he wants you in a way that feels almost primal, like he’s not willing to let go of you, ever. You feel the same.

“Good,” he whispers against your lips. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

As the night continues, you both stay there, tangled together on the blanket, lost in the sweetness of the moment, kissing, laughing, and just enjoying the quiet joy of being with each other. There’s no rush, no expectation—just the two of you, finally figuring out that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

And for the first time in a long time, you don’t need anything else. Just Tony. And maybe a few more kisses.

The Avengers Tower’s common room is buzzing with excitement as movie night rolls around again, but this time, there’s a palpable change in the air. It's been a few weeks since you and Tony officially became a couple, and everyone can feel the shift. The usual dynamic is the same—loud chatter, snacks being passed around, and the occasional argument over what movie to watch—but there's something different now, something that makes every glance between you and Tony feel a little more charged. And you know exactly what it is.

As you walk into the room, hand in hand with Tony, the team falls silent for a brief moment before an uproar of teasing starts. Steve looks up from his phone and winks. Natasha smirks. Thor chuckles, and Clint just shakes his head with an exaggerated sigh. You and Tony sit down on the couch, the atmosphere now a mix of curiosity and playful mockery.

"So," Steve begins with that too-innocent expression on his face, "what are we watching tonight? Another Christmas classic?"

"Well, it is still December," Tony replies, his hand slipping to the back of your chair. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he adds in a low, teasing voice, "But we can make it even more special, you know. I was thinking of a Christmas movie marathon… just the two of us."

You glance over at him, surprised at the suggestion. It’s not like Tony to offer a quiet, cozy evening without any extra flair, but for some reason, the idea of spending the night with him like that, away from everyone else, feels… comforting. You smile, leaning toward him and resting your head on his shoulder. "I like that idea," you murmur, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

The team watches you both, exchanging amused looks, and it only takes a second for Clint to speak up.

"Guys, seriously? Are we watching a Christmas movie or just watching you two get all… lovey-dovey for two hours?" He throws his hands up in exasperation. "It's like all you do now."

"Hey," Tony says, lifting an eyebrow as he shoots Clint a look. "We are on a date."

"Yeah, a date with a group of people who are very interested in your every move." Natasha’s voice is dry, but there's a playful sparkle in her eyes.

"Ugh, gross," Clint mutters, pretending to gag, but the smirk on his face betrays the fact that he's more entertained than anything else.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face at their teasing. Tony, meanwhile, seems to thrive on the attention, leaning back a little too dramatically and pulling you closer to his side.

“I’m just a lucky guy,” Tony says with that smug smile of his, squeezing your shoulder. "Do you all see what I have to deal with? She’s perfect."

"Sure, Stark, you’re the lucky one," Clint mutters, dramatically pulling out a bag of chips from the table and shoving a handful into his mouth.

“You know,” Thor says from the armchair where he’s lounging, “when a mortal finds true love, it should be celebrated. It is a noble thing, indeed!” He raises his mug of beer as if toasting you both. "May you two share many winters together in joy."

"Aw, thanks, Thor." You smile at the god of thunder, and Tony gives you a mock bow.

"Let’s just try to survive the night without any more of that emotional stuff, okay?" Steve says, giving you a wink. "We’re here to watch a movie, not get too intense."

You lean into Tony with a smile, enjoying the teasing atmosphere. But, of course, Tony has to make it worse—or better, depending on how you look at it.

“Hey, don’t act like we’re not entertaining you guys. Who else is going to give you this much material to work with, huh?” He shrugs and adjusts his arm around you, pulling you closer, his hand resting casually on your thigh. “Besides, we love a little public display of affection.”

“Oh, we know,” Clint says with a mock groan, covering his eyes dramatically. "We’ve seen enough PDA to last a lifetime."

"Yeah, but have you seen this?" Tony asks, his eyes glinting mischievously as he pulls you closer. Without warning, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another on the top of your head.

The room falls into an exaggerated silence as everyone stares.

“Really, Tony?” Steve raises an eyebrow, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Come on, Cap. It’s just a kiss,” you reply, though your voice is full of suppressed laughter.

“Yeah, a thousand kisses,” Clint quips from across the room, rolling his eyes. “At least they’re not making out in front of us—that would be too much.”

“Oh, don’t tempt us, Clint,” Tony smirks, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours for a beat. It’s sweet and intimate, but just teasing enough to make everyone squirm.

“Okay, okay,” Natasha finally says, throwing her hands up. “We get it. You’re in love. Just pick a movie already, or we’re going to have to find some other way to get the room’s attention.”

You both laugh, and Tony gives her a playful wink before leaning back into the couch, pulling you with him. You settle against him, your head resting on his chest, the warmth of his body comforting. It’s nice like this—cozy, familiar, and surrounded by people who you know are teasing just because they’re happy for you.

"So," Tony says, looking around the room and clearing his throat. "We decided on a Christmas movie marathon, but only if everyone can behave. If we end up with more sarcastic commentary and eye-rolls, we might have to take it to the bedroom and really make it a private affair.”

“Ugh, no, no,” Clint says, holding his hands up in mock horror. "We’ll behave. Promise."

Tony grins, clearly enjoying every second of this, before pressing the play button on the remote. The opening credits of Love Actually start to roll, and everyone immediately starts making playful comments. You can’t help but chuckle as Tony holds you a little tighter, clearly amused by the bickering happening around you.

As the movie continues, you get wrapped up in the warmth of the scene, the silly moments, and the subtle sweetness of the holiday cheer. You settle deeper into Tony’s side, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped comfortably over your waist. His fingers gently stroke your arm as the two of you share quiet conversations during the more emotional parts of the movie. Every so often, he presses soft kisses to the top of your head, as if reminding you—and everyone else—that you belong to each other.

The teasing continues from the others, but there’s an undeniable affection in it all. They’re all happy for you both, even if it’s a little strange for them to see Tony—Tony Stark, the self-proclaimed playboy billionaire—acting like a lovesick puppy in front of the entire team.

“Man, you really went all out,” Clint says after a particularly emotional scene, turning to Tony with a raised eyebrow. “You even went for Love Actually. What’s next? A romantic comedy marathon?”

“Anything for my girl,” Tony responds easily, and the way he says it, so casually but so full of affection, makes your heart swell.

“I can’t wait to see you two try to top this next year,” Natasha says, her tone playful, though there’s a softness to it as well.

“I don’t even want to know,” Steve chimes in, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I’m guessing this is only the beginning, huh?”

“Hey, if I’m going all in, I’m going all in,” Tony replies, glancing down at you with that loving look that makes your heart skip. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

You smile up at him, and his expression softens just enough for you to feel the weight of his words. There’s no doubting how much he means it. And for a moment, the world outside of this room seems to disappear as you’re surrounded by the people who feel like family—your family.

The movie goes on, the mood light and easy, and Tony’s kisses come more frequently, not because he has to, but because he simply can’t seem to stop himself. And you don’t mind one bit.

By the time the movie ends, the Avengers are sprawled around the room in varying degrees of comfort. Tony gives you one last lingering kiss before pulling away just enough to look at you with a grin.

“I think we’ve officially made movie night our tradition now,” he says with a satisfied nod.

“Definitely,” you agree, your fingers gently tracing the fabric of his shirt. “Just us… and the team watching us get all cheesy.”

“Hey, it’s our tradition,” Tony replies with a wink. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With a contented sigh, you rest your head on his shoulder again, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the softness of his kisses lingering on your lips, and the comforting certainty that, despite the teasing, you and Tony are exactly where you’re meant to be.

And as the Avengers disperse, still chuckling under their breaths, you know you’ve found a tradition that will be cherished for years to come—just you, Tony, and an endless amount of Christmas movies.

[belovaballerina]

To be loved by death

Interview with the Vampire: Santiago x fem!reader 

Rating: Explicit 

WC: 1.5 k 

Prompt: “That’s an awful lot of blood” for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Heavy on the blood play, stalking, oral (f receiving), manipulation, mind control, biting, thigh riding

Summary: You become Santiago's prey

A/n: Ben Daniels as Santiago has a hold on me. First time diving into writing for this fandom that I've loved for so long

A sense of dread crept up your spine as you took the last sip of your coffee at the quaint cafe on the corner. Your eyes darted around, but nothing suspicious lingered in your view. You placed the cup back on the saucer, the ceramic clinking together as you stood and left the money on the table. You hurried across the cobblestones, feeling like someone or something was following you. It was a feeling you couldn’t explain, but it felt like danger loomed in the distance, concealed in the shadows of night. 

Your pulse pounded in your throat. Heady and unstable. The pavement slapped beneath your worn leather shoes, the pointed heels scraping against the grooves. One unsteady movement caused your downfall and sent you spilling across the ground. Your palms scraped against the concrete as the rough surface tore through your stockings and resulted in skinned knees. Tears of humiliation burned your eyes as you swallowed down the pain. You were thankful this pathway through the park was abandoned this time of night; otherwise, you would have curled into a ball of shame.

“My, my, you took quite the spill.”

You lifted your head at the sound of the voice, shaking the loose curls out of your face as you peered around, your heart racing with anticipation. It was quite odd because it sounded like the voice surrounded all sides of you, echoing through the stagnant night air.  You gasped as a man appeared in front of you. Older with coiffed white hair and stunning blue eyes. Eyes that were not of this world, and something about them made you shiver. The black cape he wore surrounded him ominously as it billowed around his legs.

“What were you running from, ma chérie? Was a wolf chasing after the little lamb?”

You scooted away from him, your palms leaving a trail of blood along the cold ground, frowning as he taunted you. How dare he? He didn’t know you and had no right to be so condescending. If you were in a better mindset, you would have slapped him across the face for his brazenness.

“What’s wrong, chérie? Cat got your tongue.” A smirk crossed his face as he loomed over you. He was taunting you, and it made your blood boil.

“You are rude, monsieur,” you frowned, finally finding your voice while you slowly stood as pain surged through your body. You felt wobbly and lightheaded from the sight of your blood smeared against the concrete—a crimson gash reminding you of your folly.

“I have been told worse,” he chuckled. His demeanor shifted as he followed your gaze to the ruby blood sparkling in the dim light of the lamppost illuminating the park. “That is a lot of blood, chérie.” 

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern,” you murmured, pushing your stinging palms together and cursing yourself for not wearing your evening gloves.

He tutted gently, stepping forward with intricate grace, and instinctively, you wanted to run. A cold dread set over you. Had he been the one you were running from? The looming dread from the shadows, the breath on the back of your neck, the mysterious figure who had set you on edge that sent you sprinting through the park toward the safety of your apartment. This feeling had followed you for a week; perhaps now, the answer stood before you.

“Of course I care, ma chérie,” he chided, stepping closer and drawing your hands into his. His long nails reminded you of spun glass. You stood frozen, fixated on his unnatural, spectral blue eyes as he lifted your palms to his mouth. His warm pink tongue rolled from his lips as he lapped at the tiny droplets of blood that clung to your scraped flesh. A scream felt caught in your throat, yet you were paralyzed. Pointed fangs extended from his mouth, dragging across your wounded flesh and splitting it wider. He reminded you of a cat enjoying their dish of cream.

“Please,” you whimpered, voice faint and cracked.

“The sweet essence of fresh youth,” he sighed happily, your blood splashed around his mouth, “You are going to be quite the treat, ma chérie.”

You trembled like a lamb caught in the wolf’s jowls.

~~

You waited in your apartment every evening at the same time. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months progressed and still, he kept the same schedule. The night ticked away, and the city of Paris was still alive as people enjoyed the treasures offered in the seclusion of darkness. As if on cue, you rose onto your bare feet and padded onto your balcony. The gentle breeze wafted through your loose hair as the hem of your black dress tickled your calves. You were mesmerized every night as he floated above the dimly lit streets and toward your balcony. Santiago. You were his dark bride, offering your flesh and blood to satiate his voracious appetite.

You gazed up as his hand cupped your chin and pondered how easily those long glass nails could puncture your skin. His lips were cold as ice as they pressed against yours. Warmth spread through you as blood bubbled to the surface, spilling down the corners of your mouth as he laid the first mark of the evening. Wordlessly, he took your hand, guiding you into the privacy of your apartment as the doors closed behind you. You moved as if under a laden spell as your fingers unbuttoned your dress, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you in silky undergarments. Ones you had scrimped and saved for, savoring the delicate fabric as it slipped through your fingers.

Santiago stepped closer, using his claws to tear them to shreds until you stood naked before him. Not a single tear dribbled from your eyes at the loss of the treasured garments. You moved in a daze, slowly dancing in place to an invisible tune as he removed his cape, leaving him in dark trousers, a white undershirt, and suspenders. His piercing blue eyes remained fixed on you as you continued your silent dance before he pulled a chair into the center of the room. You straddled his thigh before skimming your hands over his muscled arms, marveling at how an older man kept in such shape. You supposed there were many mysteries about him that you would never uncover.

His mouth grazed over your neck, leaving the flesh pure and unmarked until he reached one of your breasts. His tongue rolled over your nipple until it stiffened under his touch. The sharp pain made you gasp and rock against his thigh as your blood oozed into his welcoming mouth. It was intoxicating; the pain was quickly replaced by euphoria. Lust unraveled through your body as Santiago continued to claim your flesh, savoring each drop of warm, delicious blood. Your arms circled his neck, one palm pressing against the back of his head to hold him closer.

Moving gracefully and quickly, he lifted you into his arms and placed you on the bed. He kissed his way down your belly, leaving a light trail of your blood over your quivering flesh until he lay between your splayed thighs. Pain and pleasure blurred together as he feasted on your thighs while his tongue claimed your slick cunt. Blood and arousal intermixed and clung to your flushed skin as your fingers buried in his white hair. The sweet release rolled through your body like waves crashing through the ocean. You knew he savored the blood more.

“Sleep, ma chérie. My sweet little lamb. I will return to you tomorrow night,” he whispered as his fingers gently slipped against the tender skin of your eyelids and closed them. A deep slumber grasped your body, pulling you under the swirling darkness of dreams.

Santiago tucked the blanket around your body, a few sparkling, wet, ruby droplets clinging to your glowing skin as the rest dried into a vexing crust. The next day, you would indulge in a hot bath and scrub yourself clean. He lingered for a moment, watching your chest heave with your shallow breaths, hot blood pumping through your veins—an intoxicating ichor that called to him. How selfish it would be to drain you and deny him such a treat.

“What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week?” The words rolled from his tongue, ever the skilled orator and performing, falling onto deaf ears before he disappeared into the black night. You were left to your dreams.

You dreamt of your malcontent Santiago, giving your being over to him as his fangs and claws ripped apart your flesh. Consuming you until you were nothing as blood dripped from him. The wolf feasted upon the lamb. To be loved by death. To be wrapped in it’s tender embrace. What divine bliss. 

The next evening, Santiago did not arrive at your door, but instead, a courier who delivered a card and a wrapped box. Nestled inside the box, between layers of white tissue paper, lay a set of silky undergarments to replace the ones ruined the previous night. Inside the white envelope was an invitation to the Théâtre des Vampires on an evening of your choosing.

Join me, ma chérie. Perhaps you will welcome the dark gift. 

Your thumb traced over the elegant cursive of his signature. Answers awaited you. Time to let death embrace you.

[cherrybacy]

@toyotayou: Thank you to everyone who was concerned about Fujisaki-san's safety and Toyokawa's stock price…! I guess Adachi had the first experience of waking up to the smell of coffee in Kurosawa's house ☕

DO NOT REPOST OR REUPLOAD ON OTHER SITES

CREDITS:

tl: red

cl & ts: naina

(join our discord!)

[darl-ingfics]

Feveruary Day 27: ALT Prompt - Cool Compress

Fandom: ATEEZ

Sickie: Jongho (tonsilitis)

Caregiver(s): ATEEZ

Word Count: 1,803

Notes: Prequel to Day 3 "Caught in the Rain" AND Day 13 “I wouldn’t even trust you to boil tea in your condition!” 

Jongho walked through the door, a look of mild disappointment on his face. “Who broke this?” He held up their personal steamer, broken into two pieces. Mingi’s face went white. Jongho pointed at him. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

As Yunho and Wooyoung began clowning on Mingi, Seonghwa frowned. “Is your throat bothering you?”

Jongho shrugged, shaking his hand a bit. “A little. Feels like overuse, though, not like I’m getting sick or anything.” He was keenly aware of both of the eldest member’s eyes watching him as he rubbed at his throat, frowning rather than wincing. That was a good sign. “Nothing to worry about.” Seonghwa nodded, seemingly satisfied as he turned back to his dinner. “This however…” He held up the broken steamer again. “Is something to worry about. Mingi-hyung, how the fuck did you even break this?!” 

“I don’t know, okay?” Mingi exclaimed, still evading Yunho and Wooyoung’s teasing. “Last time I tried to use it, it just… snapped?”

“You are a hazard to society,” Yeosang commented quietly. Mingi whined, head collapsing against the table as Yunho, Wooyoung, and now San oooOOOOOoooo’ed at him. 

“Here, Jongho, I’ll boil some water and we’ll make our own steamer.” Mingi shot up from the table, moving into the kitchen. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Jongho shook his head.

“It’s the least I can do to right my wrong.”

Jongho shook his head, unable to hide a smile as he sat down at the table next to Hongjoong. The captain smiled, ruffling the younger man’s hair. 

“You sure you’re good?” he whispered, employing the correct amount of captain-ly concern that Jongho didn’t feel like he was being babied. He hated being babied. This was just a friend making sure his other friend was 100% good. 

Jongho nodded. “Absolutely nothing to worry about.”

It was, of course, something to worry about. The first thing Jongho felt when his alarm dragged him into consciousness was an unnatural lump in his throat. He swallowed, immediately flinching from a sharp pain in his throat. He was instantly awake, rubbing at his neck as he sat up. He swallowed again as a test - still incredibly painful. He grabbed the water bottle on his nightstand and tried that. Just as bad. 

Jongho took a deep breath, squashing his initial panic. With a second breath, he took stock of the rest of his body. He had a slight headache, but nothing some water and an aspirin couldn’t fix. His neck was sore, but that happened to him at least once a week from sleeping on it funny. He didn’t feel feverish or chilled or achy or anything. No nausea, no congestion. 

Just his throat. The slight tenderness he’d felt the night before had transformed into an acute pain, constant but worse when he swallowed. Jongho hummed, counted out a “one, two, three,” testing his voice. The sound was scratchy to his ears, the action somewhat painful.  

But he had no other symptoms so… maybe it really was just overuse. Maybe his vocal cords needed a rest, and decided to go on strike today. No matter what, Choi Jongho was not about to let a sore throat slow him down. He was built different. 

Besides, today was just dance practice. Jongho didn’t have to sing, or even talk all that much. With the help of water, tea, cough drops, and ibuprofen, he could survive today. 

But with each dance run through, each breath ripping from his sore throat, the pain became less and less bearable. 

At lunch, Jongho found it intolerable to swallow, the first bite of chicken sticking unnaturally in his throat. So he settled for gulping down a few of the softer vegetables whole, and pushing the rest of his food around on this plate to avoid suspicion. 

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, all of Jongho’s energy focused on keeping his body vertical. If anyone had closely reviewed the footage from the day’s practice, they would’ve seen Jongho flagging half a step behind, his face pained and eyes unfocused. But he wasn’t off enough to get scolded in the moment. 

As soon as they reached home, Jongho stumbled to the couch. As the rest of the members fought over the shower, the maknae fell into a dreamless sleep. 

And he stayed asleep until dinnertime, when Yunho knelt next to the couch, shaking the younger man’s shoulder. “Wake up, Jongho-ya.” Jongho lifted his head, squinting against the light. The pattern of the throw pillow was pressed into his face, and his hair was sticking up on one side. Yunho chuckled, smoothing the maknae’s hair down. His smile faded when he watched Jongjo wince after swallowing. “What’s wrong, bud?”

Jongho rubbed at his throat. “I don’t feel good.” His voice was raspy and not just from sleep. 

Yunho’s frown deepened as he pressed his hand to Jongho’s forehead. “You feel warm.” He moved his fingers to carefully probe the maknae’s throat, finding clearly swollen lymph nodes (evidenced even more by Jongho flinching at Yunho’s gentle touch.) Yunho clicked his tongue before opening his arms. “Come here, bud.” 

Jongho fell gratefully against the dancer, allowing himself to be fully enveloped in Yunho’s arms. His head rested against the dancer’s chest, ear pressed right against his heart. Jongho squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body to just stop hurting…

“What’s going on?” A soft but worried voice floated above them. 

“Baby bear’s not feeling good,” Yunho replied. Jongho felt his chest vibrate with each word, the movement soothing in a way he couldn’t fully describe.

“Symptoms?” Jongho had decided that voice, which was now decidedly closer, was Seonghwa. Because of course it was. He was glad it was. 

“Sore throat, swollen glands, fever…”

“Could be a few things. Can someone go grab…?”

“On it.” A new voice (maybe San?) appeared. There was some movement around him, and suddenly Jongho felt Yunho shifting him so that the maknae’s face was visible. It was San who had brought the thermometer gun to Seonghwa, both of whom were looking at Jongho was such tenderness he wanted to cry.

Seonghwa held the thermometer to his forehead, and read the number when it beeped. San peeked at the number too as Seonghwa nodded to himself, slipping his phone from his pocket. He stepped away a bit when their manager picked up, requesting a doctor’s visit at their earliest convenience. 

“Is everything okay in here?” The three members huddled by the couch looked up to find the rest of the group watching from the doorway. Hating the attention, Jongho dropped his head back into Yunho’s chest. 

“Maknae’s sick,” San explained simply, rubbing Jongho’s back soothingly. 

Hongjoong was by their side instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“Probably strep, Joong,” Seonghwa spoke up, pressing the phone to his shoulder, clearly on hold from the crease in his forehead. “Manager-nim passed me through to a tele-doctor. Figured it was better than nothing.”

Hongjoong frowned as he nodded in acknowledgment of Seonghwa’s words. He fumbled for his own phone from his pocket, then cradled the maknae’s face in one hand. “Can you open your mouth for me, baby bear?” Jongho nodded, moving his head just enough to face Hongjoong. He opened his mouth, just wide enough for Hongjoong to shine his phone’s flashlight inside. The leader squinted. “Yeah, I’m seeing lots of red, and white spots.”

“Isn’t your throat supposed to be red?” Mingi asked, aiming for a laugh. 

“Yeah, dumbass, but not like that.” Hongjoong sighed, sitting back on his heels. He nudged Jongho’s cheek again. “I’m sorry, lovey. We’ll get you to a doctor soon.” Jongho nodded, feeling incredibly sick and helpless and somewhat humiliated. 

“Here, sweetheart.” Wooyoung stretched over the back of the couch, shaking a bottle of ibuprofen. “This might help relieve the pain a bit.” Yunho maneuvered Jongho to sit back agains the couch, and the maknae held out his hand, where Wooyoung dropped two capsules, holding a bottle of water as well. 

Jongho nodded his thanks before throwing back one of the pills. His eyes widened as the capsule got stuck in his throat and he lurched forward, gagging once before spitting the pill out in his hand. He coughed at the taste of the pill coating stuck to the back of his throat, eyes tearing up and spilling over at the pain of it all. A sob ripped free from Jongho as Yunho held his body from collapsing forward off the couch, Yeosang dabbing at his mouth with a paper towel, Wooyoung apologizing profusely in the background and San comforting him. It was incredibly overwhelming.

“Sannie, run to the store for some liquid Tylenol please,” Hongjoong directed gently, helping Yunho settle their maknae back against the couch. 

“I’ll go too!” Wooyoung volunteered, eager to fix his prior mistake. 

“It’s not your fault, Woo,” Yunho called over his shoulder. 

In the silence, they heard Seonghwa exclaim, “He can’t even swallow a pill right now, sir,” into the phone. He paused during the reply. “Yes, there are white spots on his tonsils and his lymph nodes are swollen.” All eyes were now trained on Seonghwa, who was watching Jongho intensely. Suddenly, he moved the phone away from his face. “Jongho, love, is there anything else we need to know? Anything besides the sore throat and fever?”

Jongho took a breath. His hand rested against his abdomen. “My stomach hurts a bit. And my head.” Seonghwa nodded, repeating the symptoms to the doctor on the phone. He bit his lip, nodding as he listened to the other side of the line. Hongjoong squeezed Jongho’s hand, and Yunho had joined him on the couch, cuddling close against the younger man’s side. 

“Okay. Thank you so much. Goodbye.” Seonghwa hung up the phone, hands immediately planting on his hips. “Doctor suspects strep, but we’ll need a test for that. Manager-nim’s working on getting you in as early as possible tomorrow, bud.” Jongho nodded, shrinking into himself slightly. 

“I know this is a lot for you.” Yunho brushed a hand through Jongho’s hair. “To be vulnerable like this. To need us.” Jongho deflated against the dancer’s side. “But we got you, love. We got you.”

“I know,” Jongho croaked, still avoiding everyone’s eyes. 

“Here.” All eyes turned to Yeosang as he reentered the room. No one had noticed him leave. He held up a damp washcloth. “Lay back and put this over your eyes. It’ll help with the fever and the overstimulation.”

“Sangie, you angel,” Mingi sighed as Yunho shifted on the couch so Jongho could lay with him. Once they were settled, Yeosang drape the cool compress over the maknae’s forehead, covering his eyes. Jongho sighed out a breathy ‘thank you’ that could have convinced the Earth to stop spinning. 

[weibonique]

Hey hey! My Law and Chopper keychains are finally up on etsy! Please check them out if you're interested! :3

Also, there is a little bit of info about the stickers. The stickers are currently very low in stock. I'm having some issues with my printer, and I'm thinking of outsourcing my sticker production. It will be a while before I can get back up in stock.

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00:00 Intro 00:17 Property Tax Liens: A Niche Investment Opportunity 02:45 MARKET WRAP 05:07 DVN 08:00 SBLK 11:43 Taking Profits 14:24 PGR 17:42 Foreign Companies in China 20:41 AMD 23:45 OLED 26:02 VEEV 28:29 Europe and Trade War

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