#dusting off my digital pen for winter break

[alebanana]

trying colors with marvin................ send help pls

[seokmingiggles]

peonies.

Prompt: "Going somewhere?"

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, quarantine!au (if that’s what you’d call it?), non-idol!au (this isn’t a typical tag of mine, but I want to make it clear!).

2.36k words

No warnings.

Being cooped up inside for the protection of others can become a redundant routine. Today, your boyfriend breaks that cycle and goes on an unexpected outing—safely, of course.

Alternatively, Taehyung decides that he wants to remind you of his love with the surprise of little gifts. Not that he needs to, but he wants to.

A/N: Here’s a little something I wrote in the span of a couple of hours tonight to separate my Seventeen teacup drabbles. By ‘quarantine!au,’ I mean this one-shot takes place in our current situation with Covid-19 :/ I truly hope all of you are able to stay safe and healthy. Please wear a mask when you go out! We will fight this pandemic!! ♡

•• The distinct metal clinking of keys jingling by the front door catches your attention.

"Going somewhere?"

Taehyung looks up from his feet after slipping on a pair of brown boots. He's got his keys in one hand, along with a slightly crumpled list of something illegible to you from your spot on the couch. A black medical mask is hung haphazardly to the side off of one of his ears.

He stands up tall, "Just got a couple of errands to run. I'll be right back." Your boyfriend flashes you a smile, rounding his cheeks into rolls of puffy dough.

You hum out, "Okay," and return his small wave as he leaves your shared apartment.

There's a slight crisp to the air outside today. It nips on the tips of Taehyung's cheeks exposed from his mask. The boy considers if he should have put on a scarf, too, overtop his jacket. Overtop his mask? It's too late now, he muses. At least his hands are warm inside his fleece-lined pockets, and his round nose is sheltered from the late-winter air. He clutches the piece of paper tightly in his right hand. Writing lists may be obsolete now in the digital age, but Taehyung can't deny how he likes the feel of pen on paper, even if he can recite each written line from memory; crossing off his to-do lists makes him feel accomplished.

His shoes gently click on the sidewalk. The streets are emptier than he's used to seeing. The light snowfall from a few days ago has already melted. Instead, some dead leaves rustle across the dry ground. Someone is walking on the same sidewalk, heading in Taehyung's direction. She's wearing a similar medical-grade mask with hands stuffed deeply into her pockets too. Her hair blows violently in the head-on wind. She looks up from her footsteps, and Taehyung swears he can see what might be a polite smile beneath her mask. The boy's eyes crinkle slightly at the corners in response, continuing on his way.

His first stop is the used bookstore. The smell of old paper and the slight dryness from the dust make their way through Taehyung's mask, into his nose. He doesn't have anything specific in mind. He does, however, know the types of books you like to read. Shelf after shelf, he scans the spines one by one, in search of a title that stands out to him. Stardust, he ruminates, eyes inspecting the plain royal blue cover. It seems simple enough, and if you don't like it, he may consider reading it.

Taehyung weaves through the maze of piled books laid out on the floor; there are far too many for the small shop to accommodate. The owner of the store is sat behind the desk at the side, likewise surrounded by stacks upon stacks of books. Some are dustier than others; some look newer than others.

"Just this one today?" the bookkeeper ponders, face half-masked.

"Yes, please."

The blue-bound book finds a place in the crook of the boy's elbow, pressed to his chest as he returns on his walk. This time, someone is on a run with their dog, jogging on the opposite side of the street. Taehyung never sees his face, only the back of his head as he moves ahead. But he does notice the little elastics of his mask tucked around his ears once he passes by. Muscular, yet lean calves push him to run further; the brown spotted dog seems to skip happily along the sidewalk next to its owner.

The aroma of the bakery is mildly evident before he crosses the street. Located as the first shop on the corner of a new avenue, the little store contains your favourite treats, Taehyung's too. A family-owned business, the boy wants to support their shop during this time of limited sales. Frankly, the boy wishes he could do the same for all of the little stores lining the streets here downtown.

The bell above the door chimes when Taehyung enters the store; the sound resonates in the single room. A rush of hot air smacks his face.

With the sound of footsteps coming down from the upstairs attachment, the shop owner appears in a blue mask. "Welcome!" her voice is jolly, eyes in crescents. "Is it the usual for today, Taehyung?"

The boy in question nods with a smile, fluffy bangs bouncing with the movement, "Please."

The patissier moves to the windowed counter displaying significantly fewer treats than what would have been a year ago.

"Is it a special occasion?"

"No," Taehyung admits. "Just because."

There's a twinkle in the baker's eye. "They're a lucky one."

Taehyung doesn't say anything, and instead, he thinks how he's the lucky one out of the two of you.

He pays with cash, rounding up as an extra tip. The two exchange thanks and other pleasantries, and Taehyung sets back out in the cool air on his way. The paper gift bag holds the two cardboard containers with mouth-watering snacks inside. He slips the novel carefully into the bag, making sure it doesn't rip.

The florist is his final stop on today's little journey.

Blooming buds of each and every colour of the rainbow and then some invade Taehyung's vision. He's sure the fragrant floral scent would be more potent without wearing his mask. He tries to sniff one of the bunches of tulips near the entryway. No, it's mostly neutral with a hint of dust leftover from the bookstore.

"For any reason in particular? Birthday? Anniversary?"

Taehyung is brought from his flower-sniffing, seeing the florist behind the counter bearing what might be an amused grin. The boy hides his frustration at being unable to read people's expressions properly when concealed by the masks.

"Ah, no," his face flushes slightly, "not today. Could I still get some flowers, though?"

"Of course," she beams. "Anything specific?"

The boy ponders, examining each prearranged bouquet laying about. They all look beautiful to him, but Taehyung also doesn't know much about flowers. What's more important to him is how much you like them; that's all he needs to know.

"Surprise me," is his answer, confident in the florist's abilities.

Taehyung ends up leaving the store with a combination of delicate daffodils, carnations, roses, and two large peonies in the center. The bright yellows of the daffodils compliment the ivory carnations and ruby-red roses. The pastel pink peonies, Taehyung thinks, might be his favourite from the bunch. Maybe the two of you are peonies? You're certainly pretty like a flower, yes, so why not a peony?

Taehyung heads in the opposite direction from his travels, starting the walk back to the apartment. The paper bag containing the pastries and the book is still clutched tightly in one hand, while the colourful, decorative flowers are held with significantly more care in his other hand.

The sky is grey today, filled with an abundance of dense clouds. Taehyung swears it had been blue when he had left the house earlier, although now, it looks like there may be another snowfall. More leaves scatter with the wind, blowing in Taehyung's direction. They dance in the breeze, scraping the cemented road and landing in the crook of an alleyway between two shops, both with their lights off and variations of 'Closed' signs decorating the doors.

Sure enough, what can barely be classified as snow begins to fall from the heavens. Tiny flakes of white flutter down, instantly melting as they hit the sidewalk. The only evidence of their existence is when they land on Taehyung's black woollen jacket, but even then, they don't last for very long.

The distinct metal clinking of keys signals your boyfriend's return home. Taehyung takes in your appearance, now off the couch and facing the stove with your back to him. You've changed out of your trusty pair of sweatpants you've been housed in for the past months, opting for something slightly more form-fitting, but comfortable still, nonetheless. Your hair looks washed. Maybe you took a shower in the time Taehyung had been out. You're boiling some water in a pot, from what the boy can tell. Yes, upon moving closer, some pasta swirls around in the churning bubbles, steam escaping only to be swept up in the oven range above.

"You're done with your errands?" you call out over your shoulder, returning your gaze to the cooking pasta as you listen to your boyfriend removing his outerwear by the front door. "How was it out there?"

Taehyung moves his sock-clad feet to where you stand. After washing his hands, a pair of warm arms tenderly wraps around your torso from behind, followed by a brisk peck to your cheek.

"It was quiet out there, as you'd expect," the boy mulls over as he traces some unknown shape onto your hipbone. "Do you want to see what I got?"

You comply with his request, turning the stove's burner down before moving in his embrace as he shifts the two of you to the kitchen island. There, the array of treats are splayed out.

Your eyes immediately land on the flowers: the colours nearly take your breath away. It's been so long since you've seen something so alive. You don't fail to notice the brown paper bag with your favourite bakery's emblem stamped on the side. Something else is peeking out of the bag, something blue that you can't distinguish.

"Why?" you can't help but ask Taehyung. "What's the reason for all of this?" Still held in his arms, you slightly twist so you can glance upwards at your boyfriend.

He's already looking at you with his big brown eyes. Little droplets of melted snow rest daintily in his hair. You reach upwards to brush some aside, also smoothing down some of the astray strands displaced from the wind.

"The reason is that I love you."

"You're too good, Tae," you whisper, hugging the boy properly and burying your face into him. "I love you too."

Another kiss finds your head before you pull away, but only to move closer once again to place your lips on Taehyung's. His nose is cold, but his mouth is hot as you move together with years of practice. You're the first one to part, but staying close enough for noses to brush. Taehyung has a hand cupping the side of your face, thumbing over the roundest part of your cheek from your smile: a shape comparable to a soft bread bun.

Being stuck inside has its downfalls; you and Taehyung are no exception. You've had more arguments in the span of the past ten months than all of the years in your relationship combined. Considering them as arguments may be putting it harshly, disagreements or miscommunication are more accurate depictions of your quarrels. Perhaps the fatigue of being confined indoors is to blame. The worst dispute was a couple of months ago, where you and Taehyung grimly doubted the status of your relationship—if any of it was worth it anymore.

Clearly, you managed to work things out as here you sit on the sofa now, biting into one of the flaky, buttery croissants—one of the few treats adorning the inside of the paper bag. The raspberry preserves on the inside burst across your tongue in a pleasant tartness, complementing the sweet pastry. The pasta on the stove now forgotten, moved to the side and off the burner for another time. You offer Taehyung a bit of the croissant to which he complies, taking a large bite from it. Little flecks of gold decorate the corners of his mouth; one finds a spot on his upper lip beside the dimple of his cupid's bow.

"You're cute," you mumble, gently removing the crumbs from his mouth.

Taehyung disagrees, a voice so soft you'd nearly miss it if he weren't in such proximity, "Not as cute as you, my love." He takes your hand in his, pressing a string of little pecks onto your fingers. Your hand stays in his even after the kisses placed, digits now laced comfortably.

You take another bite of the raspberry croissant until there's one mouthful left. You wordlessly offer it to your boyfriend.

The floral bouquet occupies the center of the kitchen table. It's a fluorescent sight between the dulled walls of the apartment. Like a little piece of sunshine, the flowers provide you with a sense of warmth or energy that you no longer experience trapped in your confined space day after day.

The snow has picked up outside. The clouds have only gotten denser since Taehyung's return home. The sky is gradually growing darker with the hour; streetlamps flicker on one-by-one, lining the streets in glowing amber and putting spotlights on the colourless, falling flakes. Rooftops and tree branches gradually become covered in a dusting of white.

"I love you," Taehyung repeats out of the blue, causing you to remove your gaze from the winter landscape forming outside.

You examine his face as his eyes flutter between yours. A pretty shade of pink blossoms on his cheeks while his mouth lifts into the smallest of smiles.

"I love you too," you say with all earnest. "Thank you for everything today."

"Of course," he nuzzles into the top of your head, pulling you close against him. "I'm sorry we have to stay indoors most of the time."

"It's not your fault, Tae."

The boy hums in acknowledgement. "Sometimes I wish I could solve it all, you know? Like if I wish or pray, or maybe if I believe hard enough, everything will be fixed. Everything will be normal again."

"Things will be normal again," you return. Your thumb strokes over Taehyung's on the hand you're still holding. Your head finds his shoulder.

Taehyung is warm and familiar and possibly the only constant in your life right now. Your eyes reach the flowers in the vase on the dining table once more—vibrant and attractive yellows, reds, and pastel pinks.

You squeeze your boyfriend's hand: a silent thank you; an unsaid I love you.

Taehyung squeezes your hand back.

To do:

live for today

and cherish (Y/N)

••

[lovelyirony]

76 for winteriron or 94 for rhodeytony?? ily and your work ma’am your vibes are immaculate -ambivalentmarvel

thank you! and reminder: please send in the full prompt! 

76.) “If you lay a finger on him, I’ll kill everyone in this room.” 

Tony Stark was not supposed to be a detective. He was not supposed to be a lot of things. But when his father had told him at age seven that all he’d ever be was a disappointment, he decided he might as well do whatever the hell he wanted with his life. 

So. A detective. That had gone over well with his college advisor. 

“Aren’t you...aren’t you Howard’s son?” He had said nervously, readjusting his glasses for about the eighth time in seven minutes. 

“Yes, but I also have a mother. And my mother is very keen on my having some skills of my own. Between you and I, we all know my father is going to hand it over to his business partner.” 

(This all is a very direct lie. His mother could not honestly care less what he does with his life as long as he never looks her in the eye and tells her that boxed wine is good. He’s not going to look her in the eye for quite some time.) 

Being a detective isn’t all film noir and extravagant lifestyle. Sure he gets paid the big bucks. He blends into high society well but is just unknowable enough to put on an old pair of jeans and slink into a coffee shop under the guise of being another guy on his laptop. That’s a skill few possess. 

There’s also the tiny, teensy little detail that he’s one of the only detectives to risk secret-agency-detection because in all honesty the security systems were built by Stark Industries and Howard wasn’t exactly what anyone would call “stellar” at security measures. 

Tony, however, was. 

(Did some side work for SI, you know the drill. Sure his father wasn’t exactly thrilled, but it’s not like there was the PR nightmare of Stark Sr. not being as smart in his old age as people always expected.) 

So when he gets an offer for finding and capturing the Winter Soldier from someone named Natalie? 

Well, he asks if he gets to use his frequent flier miles and packs a bag for DC. 

The Winter Soldier is regarded as a conspiracy theory. A man who is all machine, does the dirty work for an undercover organization, and has a shiny arm that can do a lot of things that Tony dreams about at night. 

He likes conspiracy theories. Enjoys the hell out of solving them. (Roswell was a particularly fun one to crack.) 

So he starts with research. 

There is one thing to be said about the Winter Soldier: 

He’s notoriously bad at hiding his tracks beyond the usual security measures. Restricting camera access, destroying tapes, passing off a flimsy excuse as to why a politician, peacemaker, or civilian that was causing a little too much trouble was suddenly found dead, the coronary reports restricted on a need-to-know basis. 

Don’t make him laugh. 

People talk. They always do, doesn’t matter if it’s been a year or thirty. 

The coroners, the police, the people that surrounded the target. They all nervously whisper about suspecting someone else. 

He gets closer to the location. He can tell by the thrum he holds in himself now, the way sleep doesn’t come as easily. (Although he still gets it. You don’t buy 400 thread count for nothing.) 

Hydra is still in business. Of course it is. 

He pays SHIELD a little visit. 

That organization is about the worst-kept secret in the world. He dresses up in a smart suit, ridiculous glasses, and pastes a cheesy grin on his face. 

He’s in an interview for tech. Gets lost on his way there. The person conducting the interviews has them booked back to back. When a “Mr. Edward Jarvis” does not show up for the interview, the next candidate will come in. 

Of course, he looks like any other employee scurrying around with stacks in his arms. Face is obscured by cameras. He’s bypassed Stark Industries’ security features, and he gets to the file room. 

Holy shit. It’s bad. 

After spending at least two minutes thinking he would die from coughing from all the dust. 

They don’t organize anything. All of the paper files, it seems, have been abandoned as soon as the digitized platform came out. (Which makes sense.) 

He finds the file box on Winter Soldier. Everything, suspiciously, is blacked out. But he finds one name: Alexander Pierce. 

For a man who is about to overtake SHIELD and ruin the entire world, you think he’d have a less consistent schedule. Or that his house would be harder to get into. 

Moral of the story: you can break into the window in an attic. 

Tony is making coffee. 

Pierce stops in his tracks. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“Why do you have Folgers? You live in a nice neighborhood. You live like this?” Tony asks. He takes a swig of coffee, winces. “God I haven’t had stuff this bad since I was in college. Ew.” 

“If you’re here to kill me, you’ve got yourself in a bigger mess than you know.” 

“No, I don’t think I am,” Tony answers. “Because you? You’re stuck here. With me. You can try to run but to be completely frank, your joint medication by the paper towels speak to your ability to outrun me. There’s also the little fact that I’m not here for the typical reason.” 

“So what, you’re not an enemy of SHIELD?” Pierce asks. 

“Of course I’m not,” Tony says, smiling. “Even like a couple of their agents. But you’re not exactly SHIELD, are you? Some PR talked about one head cut off, two more grow back. I’m not exactly sure if you know how human anatomy works, but...” 

Pierce grins. 

“Oh, then you know about our little project.” 

“Of course I do,” Tony says. “Not so little, though. Didn’t get him operational until 1954? What was that, your birth year? Can’t imagine he’s perfect.” 

His smile thins. 

“It’s taken trial and test runs. But he’s perfect now.” 

“Ah, there’s the problem,” Tony says. “Because he probably broke a lot of people, didn’t he Pierce? Probably threw at least one person. I saw the specs for the arm. A lot of power behind that.” 

“And how would you know about the arm?” Pierce asked. “We don’t keep blueprints.” 

“You don’t,” Tony says slowly. “But the creator does. And you should’ve looked a lot carefully at who was behind your little experimental arm, Pierce. You shouldn’t trust a Stark to stay in a lane.” 

His eyes widen. 

Tony loves theatrics. He also likes that he was the one who technically found out about the little quirk. 

“So here’s what you didn’t know,” Tony continues. “Our hypothetical technological inventions have a tracking component on them, just in case we cannot find them in our inventory or database. And even though your scientists did an excellent job at hiding the box and filling it with a truly terrible amount of cookbooks, they did not know about that little feature.” 

Tony pulls out his phone. 

“Your Soldier is in...wow, you’re keeping him local? Pierce, I expected more from you.” 

“What do you want.” 

“I want him,” Tony says. “And I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Absolutely not,” Pierce seethes. “Why would we give you the star of the show?” 

“Because,” Tony says. “Your show sucks, if I’m being completely honest. One branch of Hydra is completely dedicated to the idea of Inhumans and is batshit insane. Another branch is literally only focused on weapons, and another is about this. It’s a shit-show. If there was a show about this I would not give it anything past three seasons.” 

Alexander Pierce looks like he’s going to burst a vein. 

Tony moves on. 

“Along with that if I cannot get him from you, I will be getting him. And if you touch a hair on his head, I will kill you.” 

Alexander Pierce looks mad. Which of course he does. Tony tends to have that effect on people, Rhodey says so. 

“Do you think you can even get out of my house? You think I won’t know your face, know that Tony Stark threatened me? Will anyone even believe you?” 

“Aw Andy, you say the sweetest things,” Tony says smiling. “I told you I was a Stark for two reasons. I’ve already told you the first one, let’s see when you wake up if you can guess the second.” 

“What--” 

And...man down. 

And Pepper told him a taser-pen was “hopefully frivolous” and “why the fuck would you ever make that for a pen you barely you know which coffee cup is yours and you just drink from both.” 

Pierce is left tied up in his kitchen on the floor, Tony admires the window seat for a brief moment, and leaves the files incriminating Pierce along with about sixty to a hundred other people. 

He has a taxi to catch. 

- 

“You know he will probably kill you,” Rhodey says on the phone. “And then I get to give my eulogy and I’m going to tell everyone you secretly liked cheese pizza only.” 

“I will literally commit a war crime against you,” Tony says. “Not even joking. I’ll face Congress if I have to.” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“You can’t, they’d kick you out.” 

“Oh, just for wearing a ripped up crop top and jean shorts? What, would I be a menace to society?” 

“You’re always a menace,” Rhodey mutters. “Listen, I gotta go. Pepper’s freaking out about your advertisements in the newspaper and the correct grammar.” 

“Bye!” Tony says. 

DC is definitely not Tony’s style. At least, for now. He can’t even enjoy coffee, he has to foil an assassination plot. 

Winter Soldier is not subtle, as he’s said. Neither are the Hydra agents who are just painfully obvious. 

At least this might be done by dinner.

He also faces the Winter Soldier. That’s fun. It’s too early to really be anything but fun. 

He walks right up to him. 

“Do you know someone named Natalie?” Tony asks. 

“What?” Winter Soldier asks. “No. Move or I’ll move you.” 

“Very robotic, ugh,” Tony says, smiling. “No, I have a job to do. You’re not moving me.” 

Winter Soldier lunges. 

Tony sidesteps and throws him off his balance with a cafe chair. 

Their fight takes them to a bridge. 

“You’ve compromised the mission,” Winter Soldier hisses. “Why?” 

“Because I got hired to bring you back,” Tony says. 

“To Hydra?” 

“No,” Tony says. “God no, they’re terrible. No, someone named Natalie wants you rescued.” 

“Natalia,” Winter Soldier murmurs. “How do you know her?” 

“I don’t,” Tony says. “At least, far as I know. I was asked to find you and bring you to her and whoever else is there. So, are you in?” 

He pauses, looks out at the city. 

“How are you gonna get me out of here?” 

“You underestimate the power of tourism,” Tony says. “Let’s go.” 

One “I Visited the Washington” sweatshirt and long hair wrapped into a bun later, Tony is walking out with who appears to be Bucky Barnes. 

“Of course you are,” Tony mutters. “Okay, let’s get to the meeting point.” 

“Are you staying?” Barnes asks. 

Tony cocks his head. “What do you want me for?”

“You just helped me escape from Hydra. You’re most likely near-suicidal. I think you need to stay close.” 

Tony rolls his eyes good-naturedly. 

“I’m not near-suicidal. Of course I’m not. I stick around for a really nice pizza joint. But Natalie--or Natalia, you called her that right?” 

“Natalie’s a fake name.” 

“Of course it is, who names their kid Natalie anymore?” Tony quips. “But besides the point. She probably can do you more good than I can. After all, I don’t ever drink out of the right coffee cup. I am very, insanely doubtful that I am of any help whatsoever.” 

“Fine then,” Barnes says. “I’ll keep an eye on you.” 

“I’m sure you will.” 

Tony doubts this. 

But he drives him to where whoever the hell hired him lives. It’s a nice, upscale apartment. Probably costs about as much as his whole apartment building’s rent in total. 

Of course, the woman who greets them looks gorgeous. Barnes knows her easily enough. 

“Thank you, Stark,” the woman says. 

“What do I actually call you?” Tony asks. “You know my name, I know two of yours.” 

“Call me Natasha,” she says. “And anything else isn’t your business.” 

“Of course not, I would expect a check in the mail otherwise,’ Tony remarks. “So. Barnes is delivered back to you. Expect payment tonight or tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow at twelve,” she answers. “Afternoon.” 

“See you around,” Tony says, waving. “Barnes, try not to kill anyone right now. Seriously gonna ruin the springtime mood, you know?” 

Bucky Barnes stares after him. 

Natasha smiles. 

“Welcome back, James.” 

He nods. Goes and sits in a chair. 

“You gonna turn my brain back to mush or let me stay?” 

“Stay,” Natasha answers. “I escaped Red Room. I knew I needed to get you.” 

“And why not do it yourself? It’s not like you can’t,” he answers. 

“Because I was confident that Tony could leave more of a...dramatic element to it,” Natasha answers. “And he did. SHIELD is currently reforming all of its employees. One of the ladies who always let me eat strawberry yogurt from the fridge worked for them. He also helped dismantle any chance at regrouping to get you.” 

“Smart,” James answers. “Who is he? Stark?” 

“He’s an asshole, but a skilled detective,” Natasha adds. “Son of Howard Stark. You remember him?” 

“He was supposed to be my next mission,” James says, feeling a bit of the Winter Soldier seep back in. “Guess I won’t have a perfect record.” 

“You don’t have a perfect record, trust me,” Natasha adds. “And I didn’t get you for anything other than a rescue mission. You’re free.” 

-

Being free, James finds, is terrifying. 

Natasha has set him up with his own apartment. He has therapy appointments every Wednesday and Saturday. Grocery shopping is...interesting. 

And he keeps using his past skills to check in on Tony, who is doing well in life, if not a bit...wary. 

He’s assuming you don’t expose the underbelly of at least two secret organizations without gaining some traction. 

He’s gotten takeout four times this week. It’s Thursday. This is sad. 

His therapist also recommends that he gets “friends.” James is not exactly sure how to do that. 

So instead he breaks into Tony’s office. 

“We’re friends now,” he announces as Tony yelps and drops his plate. 

“Oh my god you could’ve just not snuck in!” Tony screeches. “I dropped my rolls!” 

They do become friends after that. Tony decides that James needs to try every single coffee shop that’s ever open. 

(He’s a sucker for iced caramel lattes. They’re good.) 

They both learn how to cook different foods, and try to make noodles. 

“Oh my god we’re both disasters,” Tony says, laughing. He takes a picture of James poking at the disastrous attempt. 

“Take me to pizza?” he asks. 

“Like you have to ask,” Tony says. “Come on.” He smiles at him, amazed by how much he’s changed. He grabs his jacket. 

-

 It is Rhodey who clocks it first. 

“You like him,” he crows. “You like him. You like the assassin!” 

“Ex-assassin,” Tony corrects. “And no. Of course I don’t.” 

“You call him ‘babe’, Tony.” 

“And I call you all sorts of pet names,” Tony argues. 

“Calling me literally the weirdest pet names like ‘honeybear sweetums’ or ‘platypus’ does not count,” Rhodey says. “You do don’t call me babe. Besides, you like hugging him all the time and I guarantee that you like him. Even if he is an ex-assassin and still thinks completing a thousand piece puzzle gives you the same rush of serotonin as jumping out of a car.” 

“He’s fun like that!” Tony protests. “Besides, he doesn’t have a lot of people in his life.” 

“That’s a lie,” Rhodey says. “He regrettably met Steve. Again. And he has Sam. Which I think they are friends. Natasha makes him do things.” 

“Wow your description of friends are so amazing,” Tony deadpans. “It’s like you have some of your one. You sound like a robot.” 

“I’m still right, it’s not like I’m not,” Rhodey says. “You know this. Pepper probably also knows that you like James.” 

- 

He consults Pepper. Clearly she will have some sense. 

“I demand a raise,” she says. “Because I can detect this shit better than you can.” 

“You’re getting a raise but not because of this.” 

“Good,” Pepper says. “Now go organize a nice dinner out or something. Get out of here. I’m rearranging your office desk.” 

Tony groans. He hates it when she does that. 

- 

He supposes they are both right. 

So he also supposes that he might have to take James to a coffee shop and tell him. 

- 

What Tony doesn’t know is that James is gearing up to tell him that he likes him. 

It was brought to his attention by Sam and Natasha. 

“You like him,” Sam says. 

“We’re friends!” 

“Friends don’t write their wedding vows on a napkin,” Natasha remarks. “Go organize a coffee date and tell him. I swear if you don’t tell him I’m going to make you confess at three a.m.” 

“If you get me up at three a.m. I’m violating so many rules,” James says. “Like at least four.” 

“Do five!” Steve yells from the couch. “And tell Rhodey hi for me!” 

“No, he hates you,” James says. 

“Exactly!” 

He sighs, texting Tony. 

hey can u meet me @ clocktower, 7? 

sounds gr8 :) 

Tony doesn’t know why James wants coffee. But he’s happy and definitely only that, ignore his shaking fingers. It’s the caffeine clearly. 

(The caffeine isn’t helping. He knows that.) 

“Hi,” James says. “Thank you for coming to the coffee shop. Tonight.” 

“You’re awkward,” Tony blurts out. “Why are you speaking in fragmentary sentences?” 

“That was at most only one fragmentary sentence.” 

“Oh.” 

They sit for a moment, James goes to get coffee. 

Tony steels himself. 

“You remember how I told you that you probably weren’t going to see a lot of me?” Tony asks. 

“Are you leaving?” James asks, eyes wide. “I’m going with you. Obviously.” 

“No you dumbass, I’m not leaving,” Tony says, taking another sip. “But do you remember?” 

“Clearly,” James says with a snort. 

“Well I was wrong. And we’re friends. And...well. Fuck it. I love you, and not in a like a friendship way. I really, really have been wondering what it’s like to kiss you. And if you don’t feel the same way then just tell me and we’ll be cool just give me like a month.” 

James grins. 

“You mean to tell me we can finally actually go on a date at that fancy seafood restaurant you’ve been dying to go to?” 

“We could’ve always done that, but yes it will be nice to look at you across,” Tony says. 

James takes his hand, smiling. 

“Can I take you out on Friday then?” 

“I’ll wear my best suit,” Tony says, grinning. 

- 

When they’re asked about how they meet, it’s not exactly like you can say “oh I got assigned to find and capture the love of my life and we also managed to wreck a secret organization” for the origin story. 

So they usually keep telling people they met while on a business call. 

Technically true. 

[paramounticebound]

Send me a symbol for five times… ||  ♫  five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is.  || @vuulpecula​ || not accepting.

i.     It’s just dinner, he thinks, it’s just because they both need a break from finals and homework and the soul-eroding routine. It’s when he asks her with that ingrained stoicism if she’s hungry, because she’s always been just a little too thin, and surviving on vodka and sadness isn’t how either of them should operate.

    “Not a date,” added too quickly, Khan looks away when he says it, looks back when he avers, “I won’t take no for an answer anyway.”

It’s just a drive, he knows, and he hadn’t thought so meticulously about the restaurant that the plans crashed and burned before he knows it. So it was too busy, and he didn’t want to wait, and it’s not a date when they get food from the deli on the corner instead.

it’s not a date when they find a quiet place in the park, when he reminds himself to stay vigilant, don’t get too close. And it’s not a date when the sun sets over their conversation, laughing voices like bells on the horizon.

---

ii.     The Aztecs, if Khan recalls correctly, were enamored with sunflowers. The shape itself was a sacred symbol, with many memoirs of the age carved elaborately into stone and etched into scrolls. A brief and decidedly insignificant piece of information that arose in his thoughts as he wandered aimlessly through the market. Avoiding the public was typically preferred, if arrogance were not enough of a reason on its own, but even he needed open spaces from time to time. He still lingers before a particular stand, observing the display of various golds and yellows with a hard gaze. He’s full of contrasts.

It’s about half-past seven in the evening when he knocks on her door.

Khan isn’t one for words, and so before she can speak, he offers the flower (and how bizarre it is in his hand). It’s probably not the greatest specimen, but it’s glorious in the way that a farmer’s market flower can be– simple and without deceitful layers of luxury. This is the first time he’s looked at her in approximately three hours and twenty-one minutes, from when he’d drove her back from their-- whatever it was-- not-date.

     “Thought of you,” is all he says-- it’s too late for anything else.

---

iii.     The both of them are running on no more than six hours of sleep from more than a day ago. Khan sighs, rubbing his temples while Fox, who is at the opposite end of the room, is preoccupied. She glances up at the sound of her companion’s exhale. The only things to be heard previously were her own tinkering and the scratching of pen against paper; the two work in silence.

    “Get your coat.” Fox pushes her chair back and gets to her feet. Her voice is firm and it’s impossible to mistake as a question or suggestion. “Come on.” She nods towards the door while Khan remains seated and staring up at her. A moment later he follows suit and questions where they’re going. “Lunch. We are both hungry, do not dispute this.”

He can’t. Just like he can’t dispute that he loves the certainty in her voice, her accent, her everything.

     “It is not a date,” Khan says quietly, to remind himself, and he pretends to miss the falter in her step.

---

iv.     It’s a quarter past five in the morning, and he’s itching. Falling into sleep like falling from a great height, and waking up long before his alarm, Khan is suffering. Something like bite makes inside of his head, because his ghosts do not sleep with him. He doesn’t expect an answer when his text is sent.

Coffee? I’m paying.

Khan know it isn’t a date even when she replies so quickly. Of course he’ll walk to her apartment first, of course he’s already on his way. It’s not a date when he ignores his reflection in the mirror, the unforgiving smile on his lips.

---

v.      It’s late and neither know of any places off the top of their heads that might still be open. Fox insists they go to her place for dinner instead of wandering the city streets and spend half the night searching for a place they may not find at all-- which is how they have ended up on her couch sitting too closely together to be just friends-- he knows that’s all that they are. 

Khan has never been the flirtatious type and harbors no intention of trying to start now. Expressing emotions behind glimpses, broken as shards of glass, it’s become more of a guessing game than any indication of his inner machinations. A game that Fox has become close to mastering-- and Khan, for every ounce of his deniability, assumes it’s only natural that she’s learned to read between the lines. Nothing more, possibly much less. 

It might be the alcohol, the late hour, the exhaustion that is beginning to creep in-- Khan isn’t certain. He does know that being near her is like being stolen by the tide, enveloped in waves; drowning without pain. And-- not a date, he reminds himself, nothing more than the welcomed anchor of friendship, and if he wants to kiss her every time she smiles, it must remain buried. 

One wrong move could shatter everything. This balance is fragile. 

Nerves in his skin alight when his hand brushes against hers, unintentional-- yet neither of them move apart. Something hovers on his tongue, too dangerous to offer to the light: and so Khan asks about some trivial detail concerning her day. It’s safer this way. It’s better to quell his thrumming heart.

---

vi.      It’s half-past eight in the evening and Khan’s been pacing enough to burn a hole through his apartment, no intention of getting that security deposit back any time this century. Darkness of the creeping twilight already blankets everything, short days in crisp falls to beget harsh winters; but the night is clear. That’s the point, why he’s been poring over his own thoughts for hours, old star atlases that are too clean to have been collecting dust on crowded shelves sprawled across the table in his living room. Khan didn’t need them, he hadn’t in a long time; they acted only as a conductor for his-- inspiration? Not entirely.

-- Right. He’s in love, painfully and nauseatingly so. 

Lungs swell with oxygen that never seems to saturate; he dials her number before he can talk himself out of it. Pacing in circles is exchanged for his form slouched on the couch, hunching over the maps, idly drawing digits over constellations. When the call goes to voicemail, his heart only drops a meter-- not entirely into the floor. Words are a cascade, pouring from his mouth in rivers rather than drops. 

     “I don’t know if you’re busy but you must be since you’re not answering, but-- it is clear tonight, the best time to see Vulpecula et Anser-- er, the little fox eating the goose, I mean the constellation. The fox is-- ah, was-- carrying the goose to Cerberus at the gate of the Underworld, at least that is what Hevelius said. The astronomer that named it, he--” exhales, wonders if he could delete his entire existence along with this message, “Fox, I wondered if you wanted to go with me tonight to see it. I know a place far away from the city lights. I will buy you dinner and drinks, anything that a proper date would require, if you’d be so kind to join me tonight.” 

Date. That was-- correct, entirely. He wonders why any other time, with any other woman, this had been so much easier. 

     “-- Call me back. Please.” The following beep, signifying his call had ended and (hopefully) retained the entirety of his rambling, seemed to resonate in an otherwise silent room. Khan opens his game of sudoku and focuses on anything aside from the strain of patience.

[unholyhelbig]

Prompt: Chloe is a tattoo artist and Beca is the new owner of the flower shop next door. After an unexpected friendship between the two and both being interested for something more, Chloe couldn’t help but notice the purple hyancith tattoo Beca has. Not knowing the language of flowers, Chloe decides to ask Beca.

[A/N: Right, so maybe I’m totally thinking about making this into a real multi-chapter thing. I’ve just made a vow with myself that I’ll finish Camp Beaverbrook first. So�� let me know what you think because I’m beyond in love with this prompt] 

The flowers were dead. That’s the first thing that caught Beca Mitchell’s eyes; their stems were a sickly grey. The green color had drained completely and left a white carcass behind in its wakes. Petals littered the counter.  They were once red like freshly drawn blood, a stark white that rattled into a pink-tipped form. Ghosts with no soul left to harvest.

She reached forward and palmed a petal. They sounded like deadened leaves under booted feet. The pad of her finger running evenly over it before it disintegrated into fine dust in her hand. She frowned at it.

Beca had a habit of looking for the flowers in any setting. They livened up the room or muted it depending on their own life span. Great designers would say that fresh set pieces could establish an atmosphere. Great florists would counter that it established good business.

She could feel the instant coolness of the room prickle goosebumps against her skin, even past the knitted grey sweater that hugged her frame expertly. She had been in interrogation rooms this cold before, but never a simple tattoo shop. The sound of needles buzzing against once clear skin echoed in her ears. Maybe this was a bad idea.

The room was painted a deep burgundy, a white crown molding so expertly untouched. There were paintings on the wall: close up black and white images of big cats in the wild and blank blades of grass. There was a wall of long stretched drawings in front of her. Too many for her to count. Generic images of dragons breathing fire and grim reapers wielding scythes.

Beca couldn’t’ help but admire the line work that went into them, the attention to detail and the way each picture had been meticulously drawn before being resized for human attention. She let her lips part and a lone breath tumble from them.

“Can I help you?”

She drew in a sharp breath at the edged voice. She had been so focused on the sheeted artwork that she hadn’t noticed the presence of another. A woman; stunning in a grunge type of way. A tight black t-shirt hugged her frame, showing off the expertly crafted tattoos that coated every inch of toned and exposed skin. Her blonde hair was tied back, a few strands falling into glowing green eyes. The open sign flicked a flash of red and blue periodically against her bored expression.

“If you want a tattoo you need to book an appointment with our receptionist. We don’t do walk-ins.”

“No,” Beca spoke evenly, the woman raising her eyebrow as she set her hand on the counter and tightened her stance, letting her fingers dance on the countertop. “I mean, I don’t want a tattoo. I just moved into the space next door and I think this is yours.”

She thrust out an envelope that was clearly marked The Crimson Door. It certainly wasn’t for her modest flower shop. She had mulled over the name a few times in her mind. The door to this place wasn’t even slathered in red, it was merely a foggy glass embossed in gold lettering. She decided not to bring it up.

“Oh, thank you.” The stranger took the envelope, softening in her abrasive stance. “We’ve talked to the post office so many times. They never seem to get it right.”

The woman let out a deep sigh and dropped the letter somewhere behind the desk that Beca didn’t’ stretch to see. She seemed to relax a bit, clearly having surprise visits from drunken patrons looking to get cheap ink more than once.

“That place used to be a Chinese restaurant, you know.” She continued, walking behind the counter as she leaned over the computer. Beca couldn’t see anything more than white reflected off forest irises. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that they left. Though, it’s unfortunate that we have to go across town for eggrolls now.”

“Yeah, it is.” Beca let a small scoff escape her lips. She wasn’t really sure what to say. It had been a hassle gutting the place. She remembered removing the grease trap from the back door, the way it stuck and clouded her lungs until she eventually hurled in the bushes that were adorned with beautiful yellow roses. “We’re quieter, I’m sure.”

“Smell better too.” She responded, straightening up as she clicked out of her program. “Well, welcome to the neighborhood. Just let us know if the music is too loud and try not to put your trash out before five on Thursdays.”

“Thank you, will do.”

Beca followed the girl’s movements for a moment more, she had clicked a black pen and was digging it into a yellow pad of post-it notes. Maybe it was Beca’s own name. A sly way to recall her if she had in fact, strayed to 4:59 on a Thursday evening. She took a few steps back before turning completely and walking into the chilling night air.

Their shops were the only two still casting pale rectangles against the sidewalk. Fairy lights were strung against trees for the impending winter, wreaths soon to follow in the coming months. Beca shoved her hands in her pockets and breathed out in a moment of peace for a moment.

Her place wasn’t so bad. They had gutted the Chinese décor and turned it into a simple shop with shelves built into white walls. They were lined with the freshest flowers daily- a back office gave her a break from the bustle of catering and funeral orders. It boasted a large window like a toy shop in the ’60s; embossed with gold lettering similar to the tattoo shop.

She was quick to flip the open sign to closed before the bell stopped chiming. It had been a quiet night. A Friday where people attended movies at the local theatre or the football game that took half of Hollyfield’s student population into its grasp.

“Was it scary in there? Oh my god, did you see that one woman covered in tattoos? I heard places like that are very cold. Did you need a coat?”

“Emily,” Beca breathed out evenly, shaking her head. Her assistant, her co-worker at that, was very excitable. She asked too many questions and had those beaming brown eyes that were impossible to say no to. Even now, when she glanced up from the book on the counter and hair fell lazily into her pouting stare. Her sleeves were pulled over her wrists and a pencil was tucked behind her ear. “Too many questions. I just brought over some mail.”

Of course, that didn’t’ exactly answer the question that Emily held at the tip of her tongue. Beca lifting an eyebrow as she pushed herself away from the door and walked over to the counter. She had had this place for a week and still never stood on the opposite side of the aptly painted counter.

“I did meet an interesting woman though. She was blonde. A lot of tattoos, obviously.”

“Yeah?” Emily’s cheeks heated up, her eyebrows rising. “What uh… what’d she say?”

The girl had run into some masked stranger when they were remolding. Emily was coated in white paint and was carrying a big gulp from the gas station down the street. She had recounted to Beca how she was leaning against the back of the brick and taking long drags of a cigarette. Emily stumbled over her words a bit before sighing and sulking back inside.

“Trash goes out on Thursday.”

Emily’s shoulders dropped as she let her head fall into her textbook. She dramatically stretched her arm out and groaned. “That’s all you found out about the love of my life? Beca, you were on an extraction mission.”

“No, I was on a drop off mission.”

She corrected, palming a bit of fabric on Emily’s arm before she lifted it briefly to stare at the text she was attempting to read. Psychology. It was too much for Beca, the actual schooling of it all. She commended Emily for wanting to further her education after high school- she was stronger than most.

Beca considered herself as doing well. She had run a flower van for two years before actually settling down in a space. It was a lot easier to push out orders for sweet sixteen’s when she was working out of a store and not the back of a truck with Emily strewn over the front seat. She spoke evenly, words muffled by her sweater.

“What was that, Em?”

“You’ve got to call back Lewis.” She picked up her head “He wants to cut some type of deal, you know.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. He left his number.”

Emily thrust out a sticky note that was her blue handwriting, so neat even though it was rushed. It had a ten-digit number written like she hadn’t known the area code from when she visited in the summers. She moved her pad against the sticky adhesive. “You know, the stranger next door uses the same type of post it’s?”

“She does?” Emily shot up, eyes widening “They’re yellow?”

“Yeah, Em. They’re yellow.”

[seokmins-thighs]

[scenario] svt hand-holding headcanons and scenarios

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2873w

warnings: idk it’s just some sad thoughts

desc: compilation of the hand-holding headcanons and tiny scenarios about them; i hope this helped with upcoming final exams!

a/n: here is a post with all of the members! idk i just want to hold all of their hands :(

hip hop unit | performance unit | vocal unit | all members | masterlist

____

S.Coups: the type to hold your hand before encasing them with his warm ones so that only part of your thumb and back of your palm shows. he brings them to his lips and kisses the exposed area. then he drops both of his hands, leaving one with yours still holding softly, yet securely, bits of winter breeze brushing into those loose spaces, as if nothing happened. you can be walking down the sidewalk, focused on not running into other people, and he would casually kiss your hand again, but you wouldn’t notice that he’s been looking at you the whole time. stresses of being the leader of twelve can get to him, but he never wants to show it in front of his members, so he turns to you. as he talks, you rub your thumbs over stiff knuckles, centers of his palms to ease some of the tension. he talks with his head down, never looks up to you, and watches your hands break down the stress.

Jeonghan: in public, he can hold your hand on instinct and it's just your palm against his, fingers between his. ordering at a restaurant, he'd point at the menu board with the hand that's not holding yours because he likes the safety of your interlocked digits between both of you. when in some more privacy, he likes to take your hand and not even thread his fingers through yours. he'd hold your hand up in front of his face, uncurl your fingers even if it means dropping whatever you're holding, and trace feathery outlines until you start to giggle because it tickles. he stops in a little bit before lining your palms up and that's when he finally closes your hand with his. he hates it when he reads comments about people calling him a swindler, devil, or con. he talks about this while sitting at the table one lazy morning with one hand on his cheek and the other holding yours, gradually tightening his fingers at each of the names getting thrown at him. you see him nervously biting his cheek after confessing it for the first time. his grip does loosen when you tell him that everyone notices the jeonghan behind the games, cheering for the members, and loves him outside of those names.

Joshua: very careful with holding your hand, as if anything can crush your hands if they aren't holding his, so his holds are always light yet strong. you feel delicate with his touch and he anchors you to the ground. often takes your hand under both of his like a habit. he doesn't swing your hands much, and he only does it if you want to. he loves tapping his fingertips on your hand, the back of your palm, really anywhere that your skin allows. he can be tapping the beat of a song he just got into or your favorite song, any melody that runs through his mind is the one he'll start tapping on your skin. sometimes, he goes in for a high-five but when you're about to pull your hand back and away, his fingers lock with yours, which leaves him holding your hand, anyway. but you don't complain, he doesn't complain, it's all good. his favorite thing is when he tries to teach you how to play the guitar by sitting behind you and putting his hands over yours as you strum or try to get the chords right. it ends up with you wondering if he's really trying to teach you the song or is it a slick excuse to get close to you. when he misses his family back in LA, he loosely hangs onto your hand as he talks about his parents and the places he misses back home. it's not entirely sad; more like he longs to be there, but knowing he can go back someday with you helps him be more optimistic about the future.

Jun: hand-holding isn’t that frequent with junhui because it becomes arm-holding, then shoulder-holding until he’s hugging you entirely with the side of his face pressing up against your neck. you both can be at the park, just walking around and watching snowflakes flit down slowly as if the city is underwater, and he’ll just take your hand until he sees kids trying to roll a snowman. then he lets go of your hand in favor of taking one of your arms with both of his hands and dragging you over to watch them play. but watching the kids pains him because he wishes he can take his younger brother here and let him experience seoul snow, winters in korea with the entire family. but for now, he takes your hand again and brings the two of you to the bench just outside of where the kids are playing in the snow. after dusting a fine layer of snow off the metal, he sits close to you, slit spaces between your thigh and his, and holds your hand gently as you both watch the kids finish the snowman. there’s a longing to reach his hand across the country and to reach to his brother, and he hopes that he doesn’t let go of your hand along the way.

Hoshi: would swing your hand in between his and sometimes pretends to pull you into a run to see your reaction. teasing when it comes to holding hands in public. sitting in a cafe or at a bench in a bookstore, he would squeeze your hand and it becomes a small battle about who would squeeze the hardest before someone begs for mercy. in the end, soonyoung pretends to lose every time because he’s so struck with love by the look of satisfaction on your face when he gives in to you, the flash of defeat on his face that sends you giggling and assuring him that he’d win next time. but at home, often times the hand holding becomes a source of reassurance, rather than pokes of fun and laughter. because speaking about his troubles becomes troubling itself, he finds your touch very comforting and a way to help him speak out those troubles. would take both of your hands in his and squeeze softly before running a thumb over the back of your palm. if he would rather not talk about it, give him space and his hands will close the distance that the void of words created. he would kiss the back of your hand, each of your knuckles, up to your wrist before probably planting one right on your lips.

Wonwoo: also more private when it comes to hand holding. the most public he would get is sneaking his pinky and hooking it with yours and it’s a little swing between rushes of passersby. also probably the type to hold the umbrella under the rain for the two of you, but he loves it if you put your hand over his, too, so both of you are holding the umbrella. when you two are alone, he would be reading a book next to you on the bed and he would just take your hand, rub his thumb over the back, and lets go only to turn the page of his book. when he’s lying down with you, he loves to hold your hands all the while and sometimes, you wake up with your fingers loosely locked together–wonwoo can be lying in any position and his hand would still be in yours. not exactly the type to spill out every single thought in his mind, but it seems to come and go in fragments, mostly at nighttime. sometimes, you wake up to him kissing your hand after a night of listening to his thoughts, almost like an unspoken “thank you for listening to me, for never letting my thoughts take me down and over, for staying when those thoughts do.” 

Woozi: he holds your hand right away when he's stressed out and sometimes, when you're not in there, he doesn't notice that he's searching for your hand to hold. he would call you into the studio, though the members know he prefers to be alone, when he just can't get the right round or words out and into the song. just you sitting next to him brings reassurance and sometimes, he keeps his hand over yours when he was actually looking for the mouse or a pen. but in public, very minimal hand holding for the two of you. probably the closest thing  you can get is when your fingers brush with his on occasion. when he's super elated, such as their first win starting a comeback, he wouldn't even realize that he's holding your hand the entire time until he lets go. his hold his firm, secure, yet there's something very ethereal about it. like all of the anxiety, tough knots at his knuckles, late night roughness at his fingertips that once made it difficult to hold his hand; they all trickle off and onto the trophy safeguarded by his other hand. it feels unreal because his hands always felt hard from staying up, but it feels so much better once you feel some of his burdens and worries fade.

Dokyeom: he's a lot more playful holding your hand out in public than when in private. the type to hold your hand whenever and wherever. if you two are walking, he would definitely swing your linked hands in the air and hum in between. sometimes, he'd swing your hand to the beat of a song in hopes that you'll soon get into that song too. but because of that, sometimes he goes overboard with swinging your hand and stops right away when he catches you wincing. would kiss the back of your palm when you're in somewhere more private and when he does, he hums into your skin and the tune vibrates on your hand. it's comforting, soft, and you always feel the slow, gradual stretch of a smile of his lips against your hand. you can be shopping for new clothes and you're ready to go into the changing room, but he forgets to let go of your hand because it feels so natural. it takes a moment for him to actually let go of your hand and let you try it out because "you'll look amazing, anyway." when he has moments where he doubts himself, when he doesn't want you to see him cry, he just silently holds your hands. he does express some of his concerns but it's very brief, especially if you help him realize that those doubts shouldn't worry him at all.

Mingyu: would be giggly and smiley while holding hands and sometimes he would try to reach for something but takes your hand with him. so if you’re shorter than him, you’re pulled higher up and he teases you. but if you’re the same height or taller than him, it would be a fight to see who gets the item first. the type to let you lie on top of him on the couch, especially when he has those days where he questions if he’s enough, and spreads his arm out over the edge of the cushions. you reach for his hand and if it doesn’t reach, you feel an airy chuckle rushing the top of your head. he bends his arm until your fingers are tangled and he taps his thumb on the back of yours as you list off reasons why he’s more than enough. i think his hands would be hard and solid, from the mere fact that he likes to build and fix things. but he wouldn’t mind you massaging his hand and he even encourages you to let him try some of your lotion because “help they’re so dry.” 

The8: lets you lie down with half of your body on top of him as he watches dance practices on his phone. it’s just one phone, so sometimes, your hand would be holding the phone and then his palm holds both your hand and his phone. asks you about the dances and his own dance practices and keeps his other hand holding yours over your stomach, sometimes only lets go to tap his fingers to the beat of the songs. when alone at the dorm with you, he likes to slow dance with you, no matter how cheesy it may seem. your doubts about dancing wears off at the touch of his hand on yours, his taut fingers strict about guiding you where you should step until it eases his mind off some pressure about learning new choreography. he finds home in your hands, especially when his other members go on holiday trips to visit their families. so when the other members talk about doing this or that with their siblings and parents, minghao holds your hand and nods along, tries to hear but not listen to his members’ plans with their families when he pretty much has to wait a little longer before his own plans can be made into reality. 

Seungkwan: very shameless with holding your hand that it's weird to not hold his hands. loves to take both of your hands in his in any situation--out of happiness, sadness, nervousness, whatever. he loves the security of holding both of your hands and it includes, mostly, looking directly at you. if he's not looking at your eyes while he holds your hands, he's looking down at your hands under his. he holds one of your hands when you're both hurrying down the sidewalk to go to this one store he's been wanting to check out because he wants to see if it's something his mom and sisters would like. and if it seems like they would, he'd take you there with them next time. with the pressure of main vocalist, being part of the gag trio, setting standards as variety god of the group, and always taking hits when it comes to visuals, he'd seek so much comfort in you that there's this certain, vulnerable hold he has on your hands and you just know right away what it means. the grip is almost fleeting because he doesn't link your fingers right away and you sense something is wrong. half-hanging on, half-letting go, you take him somewhere more quiet where you let him talk it all out without losing your grip on his hand.

Vernon: very casual hand holding? like in public, he holds your hand while walking but he doesn’t like to cling onto your hands all the time. loves to hold your hand especially when it’s cold and your hands are warmer than his. small smiles bloom on his face as he holds your hand. the type to hold your hand over the balcony railing and wait for the sunrise to shun away the night before he suggests to go back inside and “go before we get a cold.” he holds your hand on instinct when he wakes up earlier than you and kind of pulls you out so you both can watch the sunrise together. it’s all digging thoughts out from the pit of your heart, the bottom depths of your brain, and letting all the dirt, flowers, dead leaves lay out at your fingertips. often tries to weed out his thoughts about apprehensions about being the rapper and knows he still has a lot to improve but he will still try his best. 

Dino: probably really shy about holding hands at first but loves it after a while. would ask permission to hold your hand, despite being months into the relationship, but loving you is still all fresh to him, even when it comes to the simplest gestures. after a while, he likes to flaunt it to the world. he swings your hands higher than seokmin and soonyoung would with their partners, and he would just be so happy standing right next to you that he takes your hand into his right away. still holds your hand even when he pushes his glasses up at the bridge and sometimes, it’s your fingertip that actually fixes his glasses instead. when he’s stressed out, you’re the one who takes his glasses off and when you set them down, he catches your hands right away and leads you somewhere to sit before asking if it’s okay if he can just let it all go. he doesn’t notice that he’s crying as he talks it all out, so when you lift your hand to wipe his tears, he takes your hand and presses it against his cheek, captures warmth, comfort, and your presence all at once, and it calms him.

____

a/n 2: anyway if you have a winter break, i hope you get to enjoy it and rest well!

[leapesportif]

10 Camera Bag Essentials

We’ve all been there right? You’re in the local camera shop, sizing up a new camera bag, only to bring it home to realise all the bits and pieces you have don’t fit in there all together! If you’re anything like me, then by now you probably have a camera bag for all occasions!

Here’s a run-down of my 10 Camera Bag Essentials - things that are always in my bag, almost all the time (whatever bag i happen to be using!), whatever the mission!

1. FOTGA Professional Rocket Air Blower

A little cheaper than it’s famous competitor; i’ve also found the FOTGA to be a little more hard wearing! It’s not just the perfect accessory for getting dust off of your lenses, filters and sensors. It’s also great for people writing blogposts whilst eating toast!

2. Hama Micro II Lens Pen

Hama are pretty much the go-to choice for lens cleaning pens. I’ve had many of them down the years and i think every one of them was a Hama. Hardwearing, long lasting, and does the job. The cleaning tip is also small enough to get in the viewfinder of your camera, or clean the lens of your smartphone. Good job Hama!

3. JOBY GorillaPod

These little monkeys, sorry, Gorillas are awesome! They come in a range of size and load bearing capacities (up to 5kg), and are perfect for Vloggers as well as conventional snappers! Particularly useful for shooting time-lapses from motorway flyovers!

4. K&F Concept 77mm Variable ND Filter

Winter is coming, and snowy landscapes with low sun will soon be before our lenses! In fact, a good ND filter is perfect any time of the year when shooting in sunny conditions, especially if you’re shooting video too! The best thing about the K&F is that it’s a variable filter, which means it can be adjusted to your light requirements. A must have piece of kit for anyone shooting outdoors!

5. Anker Power Bank

If you’ve got teenagers at home, roaming the streets with their smartphones, then you know all about power banks already! The funny thing is thought, they really are an essential piece of kit - especially if you’re out shooting for a day or more. I’ve used high-capacity power banks for some time now, and in many cases when i’m away from home for just a few days - i don’t even take a phone charger with me. These things will charge anything with a powered usb connection - phones, gopros, tablets etc etc

6. Western Digital Portable Hard Drive

Backing up data on the go is becoming an essential part of any photographers day. And a portable hard drive really is a does fall in the category of camera bag essentials! Available in a variety of capacities, it’s always useful to have one with you on the road. Some models are also available with a memory card input so you can back up images for editing later, without having to worry about data loss. Now….while we’re on the subject of backing up - you’ll need some of these first…

7. Sandisk Extreme PRO Memory Card

Yeah, well, this one is a bit obvious isn’t it! But, it never hurts to have a bunch of cards in your bag (i keep one in my wallet too - just in case i forget to pack some - believe me, i’ve done it!)! These things do go kaputt, so spares are essential! SanDisk cards are however super-reliable, fairly priced, and very fast!

8. Apple Lightning to SD Card Camera Reader

If you happen to be a true on-the-fly editor, then this is for you!! No more uploading to clouds or whatever so that you can edit on your iPad in the car home - just pop this in to any iOS device and the files on the card will automatically appear for import in the iOS photos app. What you do after that is up to you!

9. Manfrotto Universal Smartphone Clamp

This handy smartphone holder is the perfect companion for your Gorilla Pod or travel tripod. This phone clamp is grippy and sturdy, and can be threaded on to almost any small tripod. Again, really useful when you need to keep your phone completely steady when shooting at night or time-lapse.

10. DJI Mavic Mini

Yeah, i know what you’re thinking! A drone isn’t really a camera bag essential, is it? But why not? The latest drone from DJI has a new sensor on board, can shoot 2.7k video, and is under the weight limit for most countries requirement for registration! You just need to fly the thing responsibly!

A great piece of kit for landscape shooters that just can’t get into the right position for the shot they want! Don’t think that’s because it’s a drone you have to go on some record breaking flight and photograph that castle you’re in front of from 10,000ft! Most things look sooo good with just a slight change of perspective - sometimes just a few meters!

I hope some of the things listed here will work out being really useful for you! Christmas is on the way, so don’t forget to share this list with your loved-ones ;-)

[kacycharles-blog-blog]

Movie Campaign

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1DvjLrvIcLdilk-q_Go9LAQ6v5ihT9yY87zbCPfyxPzE/edit?usp=sharing

200 IDEAS

1.Nail polish that completely comes off on it’s on after one week. 2. onions that don’t make you cry 3. umbrella that keeps you completely dry from head to feet 4. Salt that turns into sugar 5. Lollipops that don’t cut the roof of your mouth 6. Voice translator for animals 7. Electronic cat repellent (My cat keeps biting my mac and wires) 8. A pill that helps you learn languages in a week. 9. Cake that tastes like fries 10. Donut cupcakes 11. Hydraulic shoes 12. invisible clothes 13. Temperature change blankets 14. Apple donuts (apples that look like donuts) 15. Boyfriend lie detectors that would instantly zap their tongues. 16. Nightshades, turns night into daylight 17. delay send email button for those emails you regret you sent 18. Disappearing tattoos 19. Facetime 911 20. digital bookmaker to tell what page and paragraph we reading 21. Soda that does not get flat 22. Gas less beans 23. Floating shoes to walk on water 24. 24-hour perfume 25. Edible candle wax 26. Change Donald Trump into a Mexican or black person for a year 27. Pinkie toe protector 28. Water pills that keep you hydrated for a couple days if you run out of water. 29. Underwater talking device 30. IQ test for presidential candidates 31. Empathy test for presidential candidates 32. Shoes that stay white 33. Self-inflating deflating ball 34. Ear warming headphones for winter 35. Selfing cooling winter jacket when you get too warm 36. Shirt that changes color 37. Textile that repels deodorant stains 38. Self-cleaning shirt 39. Travel bag handles that bend instead of break 40. Garbage magnet 41. Self-fixing potholes 42. Reflect light in Norway to take away the gloomy grey skies to bring down suicide rates in the winter 43. Crackers that don’t crack until you bite them 44. Railroad tracks that don’t screech with friction 45. An apple that defies gravity 46. Eyebrow stencil for perfect eyebrows 47. Eyebrow hair thinner for painless waxing 48. Lipstick that does not rub on teeth 49. Stainless teeth 50. Anti-cavity sweets 51. Sharpies that don’t stain clothes 52. Magnetic hair beads 53. Lint resistance black textile 54. One key that adapts to different locks 55. Furniture dust repellent 56. Inflammable wig 57. Ruler pencil 58. Motorized shoes with wheels 59. Scooter shopping carts 60. Cell phone cooling screen 61. Cow heel shoes 62. Wifi umbrella 63. Bean bags filled with actual beans 64. Carrots that taste like cherries 65. Bedroom slippers that light up in the dark 66. Candles that do not burn out 67. Edible floss 68. Tank tops with built-in water bottles  69. Biodegradable microbeads 70. A clock that stops time  71. Weightless dumb bells  72. Talking Owl 73. Camera’s that don’t reverse your face 74. Pencil heel shoes that support your weight 75. Solar sunglasses that charges anything  76. Self-cleaning make up brushes 77. Fire retardant trees 78. Light that changes with your mood 79. Wacom pen that also turns to a pencil 80. Wacom pen that can be a stylus for iPads 81. Apple to make actual updates to iPhones and not wait for Samsung 82. CD’s that don’t scratch 83. Miniature CDs 84. Football gear that absorbs impact so athletes will not experience pain or broken bones 85. Rubber knees to jump over buildings 86. Commercial jet packs for humans 87. Sweet aloe vera 88. Treated glass that absorbs heat in closed cars during the summer to prevent child deaths. 89. Ice that does not melt 90. A tooth implant that cleans your mouth while you sleep 91. Mildew repellent 92. Device that tames aggressive dogs 93. Same day corn remover ointment 94. Same day wart remover ointment 95. same day tag remover ointment 96. Chemical free hair relaxer 97. Estrogen Free hair straightener 98. Estrogen free hair relaxer 99. 100% Toxic free hair dye worldwide 100. Ban on producing Johnson’s baby powder and selling it to 3rd world countries 101. 100% chemical free hair lotions worldwide 102. Selling rejected chicken in the Caribbean 103. Ban on skin lightening creams to darker women with nonorganic mercury 104. Paying less for organic food 105. Ban on preventives in food that are ultimately carcinogenic 106. Skin match colors for women of color that perfectly match 107. Permanent ban on Parabens in all cosmetics 108. Heat less iron 109. Built-in neck pillows on planes 110. Snuggie airplane seats  111. Curling irons that detect when hair is about to burn or fall off 112. Anti-odor shoes 113. Heels that don’t hurt on first wear 114. Bluetooth that enables charging your phone by pairing it your computer 115.  Shoe heel with hidden pepper spray 116. Anti-food stain microwaves 117. Mosquito muter 118. TV that turns off automatically when you fall sleep 119. 911 beacon that activates when in distress, don’t need to speak 120. Shatterproof phone screens 121. Dry powder that cleans your body when no water is available  122. Beans that taste like jelly beans 123. Sweaters that don’t thread 124. Orange tomatoes -tomatoes that taste like oranges 125. 3 in one Fan -> Fan, heater, air-condition 126. Xray contact lens 127. Anti-odor leather 128. GPS bean from phone, so you won’t have to look at the screen to know where you’re going 129. Flies that gets rid of bacteria 130. Change poisonous snake venom into life-saving antidotes 131. Change deserts into fertile lands by redirecting some water resources and planting trees 132. Vaccine to prevent all STD transmissions 133. Uber planes, where you don’t need to wait for scheduled flights. 134. Night vision contact lens 135. Bicycles that converts when it rains to keep you dry 136. Car exhaust purifier 137. Hovering fan 138. Mold free sponges 139. Bacteria-free Sponges with built-in bleach 140. Mint chocolate peanut butter m&m’s 141. Mandatory natural food coloring 142. Baby translators 143. Mucus free milk 144. Screwdriver, Allan’s key pencil light 145. Retractable T-square 146. Recycled wine corks 147. Recycled plastic into clothes for the homeless 148. Litter-free zones throughout NYC replaced with plants 149. Stiffer penalties for littering in Subway 150. Stiff fines for spitting on subway steps 151. Built-in mace in cell phone cases to deter thefts 152. Scented mood lights 153. Soundproof toilets 154. Built-in digital control for hot water 155. Edible camping clothes in case you get lost with food. 156. scentless repellents for humans to keep predators away when camping 157. Mandatory GPS locators for hikers and campers in case they get lost and no cell service. 158. SOS light that can be seen in the sky 159. Vaccine that prevents Alzheimer's   160. Vaccine that improves memory 161. Floor cleaning house shoes 162. Scented gift bows 163. Scented gift paper 164. Biodegradable plastics 165. Tech the helps autistic kids to communicate when they can’t speak  or feel frustrated 166. Waterproof ceiling 167. Socks that keep your feet dry from perspiration 168. Color changing t-shirts depending on natural light 169. Toxic detectors on cell phones 170. Flexible glass 171. Screech-less blackboards 172. Translucent chalk powder that disappears 173. Germ-free tablet screens 174. Bath bombs that explode into bubbles rose petals 175. Letter re-sealers 176. Self-destructing junk snail mail after 10 days of being opened   177. Recycling old worn out clothes to new clothes for the less fortunate 178. Greaseless body oil that does not transfer to clothing 179. Pet Fur magnet 180. Books that fold into itself to save space 181. Shoes that climb any surface 182. Head cooling hats in the summer to prevent sweating 183. Pills that microwave into full meals 184. Social media stalker alert from nonfriends 185. Procrastinator zapper 186. Nontoxic instant glue that does not stick skin 187. Reusable post-it notes 188. Multicolored sharpie 189. Translucent powder that removes makeup 190. Cardboard furniture 191. Backpacks that turns into a tent 192. Backpack that turns into a pillow and blanket 193.  A clock that extends the day to 36 hours. 194. Pen-nail clipper 195. Weightless coins 196. Instant body glitter remover 197. Pencil that grows food 198. Vegetable mint candy canes 199. Radio pen 200. Wrinkle free paper