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firstelevens · 2 years

Note

sambucky, 14 (bc i know u had IdeasTM u wanted to get out and im trying to make it easy for u)

14. grabbing their hand to show them something

( also on AO3 )

If there is a field that Sam’s kind of an expert in at this point, it’s admiring a good view: earth from the deck of the Guardians’ new spaceship, the skyline of Birnin Zana against the mountains in the distance, lightning bugs flitting around the backyard as the sun dips behind the trees.

Now, on a breezy May afternoon, Sam stands a little ways away and considers the deadliest assassin of the twentieth century as he watches a middle school choir performance, and not a great one at that. Bucky has a stuffed animal tucked under his left arm, a way-too-big bag of cotton candy hanging from his vibranium fingertips–AJ’s, naturally, because Sam had told him he’d have to carry any novelty-sized snacks on his own, but Bucky remains a sucker for an earnest, “Please, Uncle Bucky?”—, and his phone held aloft in his right hand.

For a moment, his eyebrows are knitted together, his gaze laser focused on the phone as he adjusts it for the clearest video. Then, sudden enough that it makes Sam a little dizzy, there’s a grin on his face so wide that it’s making the corners of his eyes scrunch up.

Bucky’s been a little freer with those unguarded smiles in the past few months, but no matter how many times Sam catches one, it doesn’t diminish the warmth that thrums through his veins at the sight. It doesn’t hurt that this particular smile is directed at the stage, where Cass is warbling his way through a solo on “Signed, Sealed, Delivered.”

He’s practiced nonstop for weeks. When the others were on the verge of rioting if they had to listen to the song one more time, Bucky had taken to inviting Cass along on mostly-made-up errands, so he could sing in the car and the rest of the Wilsons could get some peace at home. Chances are good, Sam realizes, that Bucky has heard Cass sing this specific verse of this specific song more times than any of them have, but he’s still beaming, the pride rolling off of him in waves.

They’re both cheering and whooping as Cass moves back to his place and chorus starts again. Bucky has kept the phone remarkably steady the whole time, and as Sam pushes through the crowd to reclaim the spot beside him and AJ, the rush of affection doesn’t fade. Sarah hadn’t even asked Bucky to take a video when she found out she couldn’t join them. The choir teacher has a camera set up; the whole thing is going to be up on YouTube later anyway. Bucky had just insisted, pulling Sam and AJ this way and that as he found a spot that gave them the best vantage point of Cass’s mic.

Without a word, Sam plucks the phone out of Bucky’s hand and replaces it with one of the drinks he’d gone to grab. Bucky lets him do it, murmuring his thanks and taking a sip of the drink without a second thought. If Sam weren’t so distracted, he’d take a beat to marvel at how far they’ve come.

Onstage, the choir launches into their next song (“April Come She Will”, which at least explains why Sam thought he heard Bucky humming it on the comms last week.) Beside Sam, Bucky makes a pleased noise and holds out the drink to get a better look at it.

“What is this?” he asks. “And why is it so good?”

AJ answers before Sam can. “It’s Miss Colette’s sorrel. Mom says it’s magic.”

Bucky tilts his head as he looks down at AJ. “Magic, huh? That’s the secret ingredient?”

“That’s what Mom says.” The, ‘And she knows everything,’ is implied in the way he shrugs before returning to his kettle corn.

Sam leans in a little and murmurs, “Maybe there’s magic in there, but I’m pretty sure the actual secret ingredient is a pound of sugar.”

A snort. “Is that why you’re not having any of yours? You don’t have–what did you call it the other day?–the ‘sweet tooth of a five year old whose parents are really strict dentists’?”

“That cake was covered in jellybeans and marshmallows and sprinkles, Buck, and you took down four slices. Tell me there was a better way to describe that.”

(The better way to describe it, they both know, is that the local girl scout troop had baked and decorated a cake to thank them for helping out in a cookie emergency, and Bucky had taken extra slices so Sam wouldn’t have to. The girls had been delighted and Sam had avoided a sugar crash, which meant he wasn’t passed out on the couch when they got called out to deal with a situation in Arkansas that afternoon.)

All he gets in response is Bucky shaking his head, then pointedly finishing half his drink in a single slurp.

It’s enough of an answer for Sam to continue the conversation. “This is for Cass,” he says, giving the cup a little shake. “It’s his favorite; I just wanted to grab him one before they ran out.”

Something in Bucky’s eyes goes a little softer, and just as he opens his mouth to speak, the crowd erupts into applause and startles them both. Sam raises his eyebrows questioningly at Bucky, but he shakes his head and gestures towards the stage.

As the audience disperses and parents cluster to take pictures of their kids, the three of them hurry over to the steps and wait for Cass to make his appearance. It’s all hugs and fistbumps as they fawn over him, Cass ducking his head and shrugging off the praise.

Sam points the camera right at Cass and informs him that he expects to be thanked by name in his Grammy acceptance speech.

“But you have to thank me before Uncle Sam,” interjects AJ, “‘cause I convinced you to join choir in the first place.”

The flip from ‘performer in front of adoring fans’ to ‘annoyed older brother’ is instantaneous. “No you didn’t!” scoffs Cass. “I joined choir because Nin- I mean, I joined choir because I wanted to.”

“We know you did,” Bucky says, his voice placating as he passes Cass his drink, and at least then he’s mollified enough to stop glaring at his brother.

Sam had called Cass’s crush on Nina-from-down-the-street (not to be confused with Nina-from-the-library, a high school senior) during a carpool run last month. Bucky had originally told Sam he was jumping to conclusions, but then they’d both watched Cass tear through the kitchen baking Nina’s favorite cookies for the choir bake sale and he’d conceded that Sam may have had a point.

“So what do you want to do now?” asks Sam. “Y’all want to stick around here a little longer, maybe go on some rides? Or do we go get that pizza I promised you?”

“Pizza!” says AJ immediately, but Cass shakes his head.

“I didn’t get to do anything fun earlier,” he says. “I just did the ring toss one time. Can we walk around a little more?”

AJ, who in fairness has been out here and on his feet since nine in the morning, looks absolutely mutinous at this idea.

“Why don’t we split up?” Bucky says quickly, glancing from the boys to Sam and back. “AJ and I will go get pizza; you two go play some games. We’ll bring back some slices for you.”

Sam turns to AJ to see if that works for him, but he’s not where he was a second ago. Before the panic can set in, Bucky points to a spot a few steps away, where AJ is somehow already in the middle of a complicated secret handshake with his best friend Yusef.

Yusef’s mom, Maya, sends Sam an apologetic smile as he walks over with AJ and Bucky in tow. “I was just telling AJ that we’re going to go get lunch before we head home,” she says. “He’s welcome to join us, if that’s okay with you. You, too, Cass.”

“Cass is going to see if he can beat my record at the ring toss,” says Sam, “but I know AJ would love to join you. Should we pick him up from your place when you’re done, or…?”

But Maya waves his question away. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll drop him off,” she says. “It’s on the way anyway; I’m driving Nina home, too. You’re neighbors, right?”

“Yeah, we’re just up the street from her,” Sam says, silently counting down until Cass chimes in.

“Actually, Uncle Sam, now that I think about it, I’m kind of hungry,” he says. “I think I’ll just go with AJ and Yusef, if that’s cool.”

Sam shrugs and hopes he looks nonchalant. “Fine by me,” he says to Cass, as AJ plucks his cotton candy from Bucky’s hands. Then, to both boys: “Be good for Tante Maya. We’ll see you at home.”

They nod, AJ more distractedly than Cass, and Sam thanks Maya before they set off towards the parking lot.

At the last second, Bucky calls out to Cass. He jogs back, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, Uncle Bucky?”

Equally confused, Sam watches as Bucky holds out the stuffed dragon toy that Cass won at the ring toss booth earlier. “You forgot this, kiddo.”

“You can keep it; I don’t want it,” Cass says, starting to turn back to the others.

“I know you don’t want it,” Bucky says conspiratorially, “but remind me, who was it in the carpool who couldn’t stop talking about her new book with all the dragons in it?”

Cass’s jaw drops a little, and Sam follows his gaze to the group, where Nina has just joined the others.

Bucky smiles as a wide-eyed Cass takes the blue dragon from him, holding it like it’s something precious. The moment feels like it should be private, so Sam pretends to be distracted by his phone, although that doesn’t stop him from overhearing.

“What do I say?” asks Cass, half-whispering. “I can’t just like, give it to her. Isn’t that weird?”

“She’s your friend, right? You guys talk all the time. Tell her you won it earlier and you remembered that she likes dragons.”

“That’s it?”

“It can be something quiet, Cass. People just want to know that you’re paying attention.”

It’s solid advice, muses Sam, eyes still on his phone. He tamps down the impulse that says he should follow it and starts typing a response to Rhodey’s last text to distract himself.

He doesn’t look up again until Cass has called out a thank-you and walked away. They both watch as he rejoins the others, waiting until they’re all out of sight before turning away.

“Ready to head out?” Sam asks Bucky. Crowds can wear on Bucky, he knows, and though he probably smiled through it for the boys, there’s no point in him putting himself through this longer than he has to. Anyway, they’ve both got reports to write up from that mission to New Mexico last week. “Uncle duties have been taken care of, so we can just-”

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asks without preamble, and Sam furrows his eyebrows.

“Am I hungry?”

“Yeah, I saw a funnel cake stand back by the ferris wheel,” he says. “Come on, I’ll buy you one.”

Before Sam knows it, Bucky’s hand is in his, pulling him along through the crowd until the vanilla-sweet smell of fried dough is in the air.

“Buck,” he says, “we don’t have to stay here. We can just drive home.”

“Sweet tooth of a five year old, remember?”

It’s only when Bucky lets go that Sam realizes they were still holding hands. He feels the back of his neck go hot and tries to ignore it. “Fine. Maybe if you eat enough sugar, you’ll be too tired to mess with my music on the way back.”

(Bucky, Sam has discovered, is a serial song skipper. He’ll make it twenty seconds in, say he likes the song, then skip it anyway. Sam is incredibly tired of only ever getting through the first verse of “Son of a Preacher Man”, and he’s starting to suspect that Bucky’s doing it on purpose.)

“Don’t hold your breath,” Bucky laughs, then steps up to the counter.

The topping choices are messily scrawled on a chalkboard beside them, and Sam is busy squinting at it as Bucky orders. He’s just decided on the berries when he hears Bucky say, “And one strawberry shortcake, please.”

“How did-” he starts to ask, but trails off. Bucky’s observant, he tells himself, and they spend basically all their time together. It stands to reason that he could narrow down Sam’s preference from a list of five options. It’d probably be more surprising if he couldn’t.

The clouds of powdered sugar are still hanging in the air when the girl behind the counter passes them their funnel cakes, the paper plates bowing a little in the center from the weight of the toppings. As they make their way to the cluster of picnic tables nearby, Sam watches Bucky lick caramel off his thumb and tries not to feel any particular way about it.

“So why funnel cake specifically?” he asks when they sit down. “There’s giant s’mores on a stick two stalls down; that feels more like your thing.”

“Who says I’m not headed there next?” Bucky asks. He reaches over with his fork and steals a strawberry from Sam’s plate, slow enough that Sam could swat him away if he wanted.

He doesn’t bother, just makes a vague noise of protest and says, “You could’ve gotten this, too, you know. Then you wouldn’t have to steal mine.”

“They taste better stolen, Sam. That’s just a fact.”

“I let you have that one for free,” Sam says. “Come for the funnel cake again and it’s going to cost you.”

“Should’ve known our partnership would end this way,” Bucky says, shaking his head.

Sam snorts. “Me fighting you because you can’t keep your hands off my dessert?”

“No, you fighting me because you don’t like to share.”

“That wasn’t sharing, Buck; that was theft. Sharing implies an exchange.”

“Aww, Sam, if you wanted to try mine, you should’ve just asked,” Bucky says, pushing his plate closer to Sam with a smirk.

“Pass,” Sam says flatly, though he can’t quite keep the corners of his mouth turned down. “I don’t need to try it to know that it’s an abomination.”

“If they didn’t want you to combine the praline and the hot fudge, they wouldn’t have put them next to each other on the menu.” Bucky’s prim delivery is offset somewhat by him shoving an enormous bite of funnel cake into his mouth. “And besides, it’s delicious.”

“That’s not the point. Of course it’s delicious. Funnel cake is the-”

“-best part of going to any given fair, carnival, or amusement park,” Bucky finishes for him. When Sam looks at him in surprise, he just shrugs a little. “I heard you telling Sarah.”

Sam doesn’t have a response, just ends up looking at Bucky for a long moment. For once, it’s Bucky who blinks first, ducking his head to keep his eyes on the food in front of him.

They finish their food–well, Sam’s food and Bucky’s sugar monstrosity–mostly in silence, but it’s the comfortable kind. Sam nudges his plate with its last few strawberries over to Bucky; Bucky reciprocates with the one praline that somehow was untouched by chocolate. When they go to throw away their trash, Sam catches Bucky looking at him, his gaze assessing.

“What?” he asks. “It’s powdered sugar, isn’t it? I swear it gets everywhere, just spreads every time you try to wipe it off.”

Sam is pulling out his phone to check in the camera when Bucky reaches out a hand, stopping just short of Sam’s jaw. “It’s right there,” he says, gesturing to somewhere Sam can’t see because his eyes aren’t on his nostrils.

He reaches up and tries to swipe away the sugar anyway. It must not work, because then Bucky huffs a quiet laugh and asks, “Is it okay if I-?”

Before he’s even done with his question, Sam has tilted his chin up just a little in silent permission. Bucky’s fingers are gentle as he brushes it away. It doesn’t escape Sam’s notice that he uses his right hand, even though the reach is a little awkward. He almost comments on it, but then there’s mischief lighting up Bucky’s eyes.

He frowns dramatically, squinting at Sam’s face before shaking his head. “Nope, still there.”

“What, the sugar?” asks Sam, mostly because he knows he’s supposed to.

“No,” Bucky says, “the paperwork face.”

“The paperwork face,” Sam repeats flatly. “What is the paperwork face?”

“That face that you make when you’re thinking about all the reports we have to write when we get home,” Bucky says, like this is something Sam should know.

“This is just my face, Bucky.”

Bucky just looks at Sam, stoic as ever.

It sinks in after a second and Sam shoves his shoulder. “Very funny,” he deadpans. “Tall, dark, and brooding over here telling me that I have paperwork face.”

“I’m just an objective observer, Sam.”

Sam lets himself laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe if you worried a little more about paperwork, I wouldn’t have to be so dedicated to making mine clear and detailed.”

“My paperwork is clear and detailed,” says Bucky. “It’s not my fault that kids these days can’t read cursive.”

It’s not, but it definitely is Bucky’s fault that they don’t have another choice. He claims he can’t fill out his reports on a tablet because the vibranium hand doesn’t respond well to touchscreens. It would be a lot more believable as an excuse if Bucky wasn’t constantly reading books on Sam’s tablet when they have downtime on the jet.

(It’s possible that, as Captain America, Sam should discourage this kind of behavior, but sometimes the only thing that cheers him up after a frustrating joint mission is watching an annoying SWORD agent grit out a thank-you when Bucky hands over triple copies of their exhaustive paperwork, all filled out in beautiful and perfectly illegible cursive.)

“I’m feeling generous because you just bought me food, so I’m not going to make fun of it, but I want you to know I heard that ‘kids these days.’”

“You call them kids, too! And they exist in this time period, Sam. What else am I supposed to call them?”

Sam just laughs, bumping his shoulder into Bucky’s. “Come on, Old Man Barnes. Let’s go play some overpriced games for crappy prizes.”

Bucky’s only response is a vague grunt, but when Sam puts a hand on his elbow, he lets himself be pulled along. There’s a water gun race booth near them where a crowd has just cleared out, and Sam beelines there first. Bucky looks skeptically from the plastic guns to the little model boats and back.

“Really?” he asks flatly. “This?”

“What?” asks Sam, already in his seat. “You worried you’ll lose?”

Bucky scoffs.

“It’s okay, Buck. We can go play the kiddie games if you want. Straws in a milk bottle, fishing with that little magnetic pole…”

The glare that Sam gets as Bucky grabs the stool next to him is less Winter Soldier than it is Bucky realizing Sam ate the last of the peanut butter, and he just grins back unrepentantly. When Bucky turns to line up the shot with the little pink water gun, the corner of his mouth twitches up just a little, too.

Then Sam beats Bucky by what can only be called an embarrassing margin and Bucky looks appalled, handing cash to the man running the booth before declaring that it’s now best out of three. Sam doesn’t bother to conceal his delight, even when Bucky evens up the score in their next round.

The third race finds them neck and neck the whole way, but the light at the end of Sam’s track goes on just a second before Bucky’s, and he takes the win. Bucky doesn’t even look annoyed about it, just tolerates Sam crowing about his victory as they keep walking among the booths.

Eventually, Bucky points to a game a little ways away. “Hey, what’s that one?”

Sam squints at the darkened interior of the booth, then lights up as he realizes what it is. “Skee-Ball! That used to be my favorite as a kid.”

Bucky just lets out a mildly interested hum, eyes still on the booth. “You played it a lot?”

“Sarah and I used to get really into it,” says Sam. “Eventually, she figured out that as long as I had the advantage of being taller, it was a better idea for her to stop me from scoring instead of trying to outscore me.”

“Do you want to play a round?” asks Bucky. “Promise I won’t use Sarah’s strategy.”

Sam looks at Bucky through narrowed eyes for a moment, then nods. “Fine, but I’m warning you, this is going to be a much more embarrassing defeat than the race.”

But all Bucky does is shrug just a little too casually before he starts heading for the booth. “Who knows?” he calls over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

When they get to the game, there’s a group of teenagers getting very intense about their competition, so Sam uses the time to take a picture and send it to Sarah. Bucky’s back is to the camera, but he’s still pretty distinctive, so Sam texts, ‘New Skee-Ball opponent. Maybe this one won’t try to cover my eyes in the middle of a game.’

She texts back immediately to tell him that there are no rules against that, so he can take his talk of cheating somewhere else. Sam is typing out a reply to her when he hears Bucky laugh and turns to find that he’s already looking back at Sam.

He raises a questioning eyebrow and Bucky holds up his phone. “Sarah’s giving me advice on how to beat you.”

“What?” Sam moves closer so he can get a look at Bucky’s screen. “Did she tell you to cover my eyes, because-”

Unfortunately, whatever Sam was planning to say next is interrupted by what can only be called a yelp, and he belatedly realizes that it came out of his own mouth. When he looks up again, Bucky is grinning delightedly at him.

“She said you were ticklish and I should go for your sides, because you always leave them open.”

Sam clamps his arms around his sides, deletes the beginning of the text he’d written to Sarah, and sends, ‘TRAITOR!!!’ instead. She replies with cry-laughing emojis.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky says. “I’m not gonna sabotage you.”

“I feel very reassured,” deadpans Sam, as they take the two freed-up spots in the booth. He very hesitantly relaxes his arms. “But it doesn’t matter, ‘cause I’m good enough to win even if you do sabotage me.”

“Then I guess you have nothing to worry about,” says Bucky, picking up the scoop and flipping it in the air before he catches it again.

Sam narrows his eyes at Bucky again, but his face betrays nothing.

“Ready when you are, Samuel,” he says, flipping the scoop again.

Shaking his head, Sam squares his shoulders, hits the button to start the clock, and clears his head of the competition, focusing instead on scoring with every shot.

It’s a sound strategy, even if he starts off kind of rusty: he keeps overshooting at first, has to modulate his strength a little to land on 50s and 40s consistently. Once he gets into the rhythm of it, it’s a little easier, and he’s proud of his score when the clock runs out and the machine spits out his tickets.

He drops the scoop back onto the ramp, shaking his hand out as he turns to look at Bucky, who he pities for just a second: if Sam had to hold back his strength for the game, then it must have been even harder for Bucky.

But Bucky looks completely unbothered, leaning casually against the divider between his ramp and the next, an absolutely absurd amount of tickets clutched in his hand.

Briefly, Sam has the thought that Bucky just pulled the panel off the ticket dispenser and took out the whole roll, but then he looks up at the display above Bucky’s spot and realizes the words ‘high score’ are spelled out in flashing lights. Just below them, the digital display reads, in blocky red letters, ‘PERFECT GAME.’

Sam feels his jaw drop.

“Did you know,” says Bucky, looking more smug than Sam thought humanly possible, “that one of the first ever Skee-Ball ramps at an amusement park was at Rockaway Playland in Queens?”

“Did you just-”

“That thing had years on it by the time Steve and I used to take my sisters there, so there wasn’t always a line, and if the guy running the booth was feeling friendly, he’d let us keep playing until new people showed up. We got pretty good at it.”

“You just hustled me,” Sam says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“We didn’t bet anything, so I don’t think that’s technically hustling.” Bucky furrows his eyebrows, smirk gone. “Right?”

“Not technically, no.” In an ideal world, Sam would have a snappier comeback, but he’s busy trying to convince himself that Bucky going from cocky to sincerely confused in a split second isn’t something he finds endearing. It’s not working.

“Good,” Bucky says, nodding like that settles it. He steps aside to let a group of kids take his place, and Sam follows suit, handing off his tickets to them as he does.

There’s a memory niggling at the back of Sam’s brain, a story Steve once told him that shook loose at the mention of Rockaway Beach. He can’t remember what it was, exactly, but he remembers laughing about it with Steve and Wanda and Natasha, tucked away in a safehouse in Accra.

He shakes off the ache of missing them and focuses on Bucky again, who looks a little sheepish.

“I didn’t think I’d remember anything about the game, you know,” he’s saying, eyes sweeping the rest of the fairground. “I didn’t even know I had that memory until I saw the booth, and I figured it’d been so long, and it’s not like it was a skill I used after we shipped out, and-”

“Bucky,” says Sam, gentle but firm.

He stops talking. After a moment, his eyes snap to Sam.

“I’m not actually upset,” Sam continues. “And I’m glad it came back to you. It sounds like it was a good memory.”

Bucky bobs his head in a short nod. “It was,” he says. “So do you want to go to the prize booth? See what this many tickets gets us?”

Sam agrees absently and lets Bucky lead the way, because he’s finally got it, the memory he was grasping for.

He can see it so clearly now, Steve doing an exaggerated impression of young Bucky Barnes’ swagger while he chatted up some girl with an old school name. ‘Three dollars,’ Steve had laughed. ‘Three whole dollars to win her that bear. I still think the guy took pity on him and rigged that last game.’

They reach the prize booth, all brightly lit and full of brightly colored plushies and cheap toys. It’s quieter on this side of the fairground, barely any booths and no line for prizes, either.

Bucky slides his fistful of tickets over to the bored-looking kid at the counter, who tpoints them to a corner with stuffed animals easily the size of Sam’s torso.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, as nonchalant as ever. Now that Sam’s looking for it, though, he can see the way his eyes linger just a little, the way Bucky’s mouth lifts into a smile when Sam’s does.

Sam makes himself look at the prizes and immediately grins at the sight of one, right at the very end of the shelf. “That one,” he says, pointing decisively at a massive teddy bear. It’s wearing a jaunty gingham bowtie. “Definitely that one.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Really? Not the dolphin? Or the frog? Or the bird with wings that kind of look like yours?”

“Redwing would get jealous,” Sam says, shrugging.

“The bear, then,” Bucky says to the kid.

When Bucky’s handed the stuffed animal, he holds it out to get a better look, brushing the fur into place and adjusting the bowtie a bit so it sits right. Sam can admit to himself that it’s kind of adorable.

Bucky fusses with the bear for another second or two before he holds it out to Sam. “For you,” he says. “I feel kind of bad about the Skee-Ball thing.”

And because Sam can’t resist messing with Bucky just a little bit, he shakes his head and says as earnestly as he can, “Really, Buck, it’s not a big deal. You should keep it.”

“I-” Bucky starts to say, then frowns. “It’s yours, Sam. Just take it.”

He’s about to say no again, see if he can’t push Bucky into actually saying what he wants instead of the silent 1940s wooing that’s apparently happening here, but then from the corner of his eye, he spots a blue dragon like the one Cass won earlier.

He hears Bucky’s words in his head again, gentle and earnest, the way he always is with the boys: ‘It can be something quiet.’

Sam had thought the advice was just for Cass, to let him know it was okay if he couldn’t get the words out. He’s starting to wonder if Cass wasn’t the only one who’d needed to hear it.

He thinks of funnel cake, of Bucky holding the camera up so Sam’s arm wouldn’t get tired, of how fiercely he loves the boys, of longform cursive paperwork and company on the nights Sam screams himself awake and those smiles that always feel a little bit like being entrusted with something precious. All those quiet somethings that have become his touchstone, warm and steady and always there.

Sam looks back at Bucky, reaching out to take the bear with a soft, “Thank you.”

Before Bucky can pull away again, he catches the vibranium hand in his own, watching as Bucky’s eyes widen just a little. His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he looks from their hands to Sam’s face and back.

“Just wanted to try something,” Sam says, hopefully with more confidence than he feels.

It must work, because Bucky’s shoulders relax just a touch. “Okay,” he says, nodding.

Using their joined hands, Sam pulls so they’re closer together. When he hears Bucky’s breath catch, he asks, “Okay?”

Bucky nods.

Sam slips his hand out of Bucky’s grip, bracing it against his neck. “Still okay?”

Bucky nods.

As gently as he can, Sam leans in and rests his forehead against Bucky’s. “Sti-”

But he never finishes his question, because then Bucky is gently tipping Sam’s chin up and pressing their lips together, quick and chaste.

Bucky pulls away after a second, but only manages the first word of an apology before Sam is pulling him closer to kiss him again. Sam is pretty sure he hits Bucky in the head with the teddy bear that’s still clutched in his hand but he’s also pretty sure neither one of them cares all that much.

When they pull apart again, there’s a part of Sam that’s pleased to see Bucky looking just a little bit dazed, especially since Sam can’t seem to stop the dopey grin on his own face.

It’s Bucky who recovers first. “So wait,” he says, “you’re telling me that in the end, all it took to win you over was a cheap bear from a fairground? That’s it?”

“Don’t forget the funnel cake,” says Sam.

Bucky hums, nodding very seriously and doing a terrible job of biting back his smile. “No, we can’t forget the funnel cake.”

“Just one question,” says Sam, as they pull away from each other and make their way into the crowd again. “When you blew all your train money to win that girl a teddy bear, did you try to woo her with a funnel cake first? Or is that just in the updated version of-”

Bucky’s eyes go wide, his ears and neck turning red. “He told you about that?!”

“He may have been carrying some bitterness about having to ride home in a freezer truck.”

Sam slips his hand into Bucky’s as he launches into an explanation of how the freezer truck had been a brilliant plan, actually. He hefts the teddy bear a little higher in his arms, listens, and lets himself be led.

#this is so long you guys #I don't know what happened this was going to be 1.5k MAX #sambucky #sam x bucky #sambucky fanfiction #I'll probably throw it onto AO3 tomorrow #philtstone

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tofixtheshadows · 1 month

Text

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

#Dungeon Meshi #Delicious in Dungeon #Kabru #Kabru of Utaya #Laios Touden #Dungeon Meshi meta #you can have him in the tags too. as a treat.#Dungeon Meshi spoilers #this was directly inspired by livelaughlaios's post about Kabru self harming but I decided it got too long to make it a direct reply #this is a theory I've been working on for weeks because I kept noticing this while skimming for screencaps #I'm hesitant to trigger tag this because of the way certain subcultures on tumblr operate #but if anyone needs me to add a content warning please let me know #also I included image descriptions! I did my best #I think they even help illustrate my points but my god were they sad to write. Kabru is so fucking sad you guys #musings with Dea

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krysmcscience · 20 days

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Call this the Whoopsie AU (it's barely an AU)

I mean. Narinder never explicitly SAID the Lamb would stay dead... :3c He probably should have been more specific. >:3c

Part Two:

Well. The Lamb tried, but...sorry, Nari, the crown hates you now. Shouldn't have been so quick to lend it out, I guess. :D

Aaaand Part Three:

'Isn't he just adorable?' -The Lamb, probably, while their followers smile and nod and internally scream at the brand new hellcat they now have to share living space with...

Anyway, nothing says 'Dead To Me' like following a person around to loudly remind them of how dead they are to you. Right? Right. Narinder's got this all figured out. <:]

#fanart #comics #cult of the lamb #cotl #narilamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl yellow cat #this is my headcanon and i'm sticking to it #the lamb is a goofy stabby-babby goober and narinder is just a grumpy asshole who constantly velcroes onto them for hella snuggles #look - if you've been trapped in the afterlife void for over a thousand years - you are GONNA want a fuckton of snuggles #that's just science #the scribble comic i did with narinder and the yellow cat can technically work as part four i guess #only instead of the lamb Going Gremlin at the attempt to steal their other followers' devotion #they just comin' at him for Rad Cuddles OuO #someday i will draw these two with the proper height difference i imagine them having #today is not that day #today is also not the day i pin down exactly how long i want narinder's tail to be #(but i want it to be Very Long - just because)#there are inconsistencies here and there and probably some mistakes but i have been working on these for a week and i am So Tired guys #EDIT: haha yeah i forgot to color in narinder's fukken ears again #fuk :)#EDIT 2: i fixed it but it's probably too late at this point lmao #EDIT 3: THE LAMB'S FUKKEN HORNS JFC #i am not editing this thing anymore cuz i need sleep and the mistakes are already out there *dies of artist mortification*

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 4 months

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the most anticipated comic from this blog: White Boy Goes Dancing (follows directly from this)

Everyone's been sending me asks for this! I have a second part to this planned for the future. Watch this space!

#tintin #adventure of tintin #comic #chang #tinchang #fanart #swing dance #long post #probably the least tintin feeling comic ive posted here lol #must be the colour palette and genre shift #i put so much detail into this one it took a lot out of me lol #i hope you guys enjoy this!#my stories

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hailsatanacab · 6 months

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Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #batpham #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #look. this has been in my mind for so long guys so long - and idk if its canon that the batfam have codes for time travel situations or what #but i feel like ive seen it before and if its not canon it should be #so here - how i think that would be funny to go down #i have so many thoughts about TUE and its place in a dpxdc crossover like holy shit there's so many ways it can go!!#i have another wip in the works thats kinda similar to this but with superman and i cannot wait to work on it again #there are so many ways i wanted this to go but i just couldnt get there - i wanted to keep it on the shorter side but like #perhaps ill have to expand #i just love the idea that like. theres a stranger at your table who knows you and knows you well. who knows the secret that youd die to keep #there's a stranger at your table and he says something and you know he's family. you know you're strangers but now...#now you have to be something more #oh man theres so many juicy ways it can go and I KNOW I DID NONE OF THEM #i want to write this whole plot again and make it angstier #(me with everything)#anyway! sorry love you all hope you enjoy it!!

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lilybug-02 · 3 months

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Pain is a great motivator…

Part 26 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

Meanwhile Toriel:

(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)

Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!

#CHARA WTF DO YOU MEAN “COMPUTER”????#lol i hope you guys dont hate me for what im doing in the next update.#IS THAT A MAC OS???#Yes......owo''#Kris and the Gang are LITTLE now. I've pixelated them and turned them into little game characters!#FINALLY!!#I never thought I would be going so far in the story to explain WHY Kris pulls out their SOUL and opens Darkfountains even when they killed #Berdly in Chapter 2. Pain can make people do horrible things.#Uhhhhhhhhh anyways. :3 I hope you liked it! I made this post a little too long for my liking and didnt get it out when i wanted too-#but thats okay! As long as people enjoy it :)#bread #art #deltarune chara timeline #deltarune chara timeline comic #seriously though #long post #man am I glad I switched over to the limited color palet! It helps me feel alot more relaxed uwu #This is....way over 16 hours of work q-q #chara #asriel #susie #kris #asriel dreemurr #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #susie deltarune #deltarune #comic #my art

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why-is-it-always-autumn · 1 year

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It's good and cool to give your characters a single simple, straightforward, non-urgent, super-achievable goal that shouldn't really cost anything or hurt anyone, make that the driving factor for most of their decisions, and then have the Plot do everything in its power to stop them.

#writing #the two variations are:#character wants to do the thing but to do that they need this guys approval so they have to do him a favor and for the favor they have to g #(cue chain of deals)#(by the end of it youre overthrowing governments and inheriting wizard magic and marrying dragons or whatever)#(you just wanted to fix your niece's teddy bear)#and #youre trying to do this thing but on the way you ran into a person who needs help and it wont take that long #its not like your thing is urgent youll just do this one thing and move on #(this happens 87 more times)#(you also end up overthrowing the government and becoming a wizard)

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crabussy · 2 months

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TEN GAZILLION PONY ATTACK!!!!! this is a part 2 of my subtle animation-friendly redesigns!!! I only made changes that could have happened in the show. hair gradients can be seen in cadence, and white markings on sunburst, for example.

feel free to ask me questions about the design choices!! (just mentioning: I love the CMC's actual cutie marks, just wanted to try designing individual ones this time around!) Part 1 with the mane 6!

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oh-gh0st · 5 months

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i heart these rivals so much. maybe they'll kill each other. maybe they'll kiss. maybe they'll make ou

#ghost's doodles #lego monkie kid #lmk #shadowpeach #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #sun wukong #six eared macaque #love how these two show how different my art tends to be. either wholesome cute stuff or Absolute shitposts #i need them to do stuff to each other Really bad you guys have no idea #on another note for those who read these tags: i am making shadowpeach plushies #who knows how long those will take... but im sure i can get everything patterned right before they come in after new years #im so freaking excited!!!!#merry christmas btw. shadowpeach fans get a tasty treat lol #also the second shadowpeach was in ref to a twit trend going around. it got 2k+ likes..................

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humbuns · 6 months

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🌼💐🌿

#malleus draconia #twisted wonderland #twst #glorious masquerade #twst malleus #you guys don't know how long i wanted to finish aughh #every time i haven't drawn my fave for so long- the next time i draw them i have to draw them like my life depends on it fr 💀#prints of this will be available sooon btw!!

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dumplingsjinson · 8 months

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List of “not-so-random suggestive and non-suggestive” prompts

“How was your sleep?” “Mm.. It was good. Better.” “Better how?” “Better because you’re here.” (THE WAY I GOT SO FLUSTERED WTF)

“That’s my girl/boy,” Character B murmurs in a hushed voice, stroking their fingers through Character A’s hair while Character A rests their head on their chest, trying to catch their breath. (THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT INTERNALLY, THE AUDACITY HE AUDACITIED??? WHAT THE FUCK??? EXCUSEEEE MEEEEEE??? BTW, SIR, HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS IN THE MORNING-)

“Fuck, you turn me on so much with the noises you make,” Character B groans, thrusting their hips up into Character A’s and Character A whimpering softly at that. (Okay so I added the fuck at the start because it’s hotter this way bUTTTT WKGKSKFS PLSSSSS I JUST- OH MY GOD, I think I just realised that dialogue to me is SO IMPORTANT LMFAOOO)

“There are two hot things in this room right now: you, and the temperature.” (LET ME BREATHE, DAMNNNN)

“Mmm, I’m gonna hog the bed so you can’t get on,” Character A murmurs, laying sprawled out on the bed. “That’s fine, I can just lay on you,” Character B says, making their way to the bed. “…Are you calling me a bed?” Character A questions as Character B gets on top of them, careful not to crush them under their weight. “Yeah, you're my bed,” Character B murmurs, snuggling close to Character A. (FUCKCKKCKXKDKKSKGKAKD HE’S JUST OUT HERE FLIRTING TO THE MAX WITH ME AND LEAVING ME SPEECHLESS TF)

“I told you my bed’s cozy,” Character B says, chuckling as they make their way over to Character A, who’s snuggled up under the covers. They pull the cover back and climb into the bed next to Character A, wrapping their arms around them. “And now it’s even cozier,” Character B murmurs into Character A’s neck. “Because you’re here?” Character A questions playfully. “Yeah,” Character B answers.

A laughter filled tickling play fight session somehow turning into them making out, turning into Character A straddling Character B, head thrown back in pleasure as they grind their hips against Character B’s while Character B holds onto their hips, thrusts matching the momentum of Character A’s movements.

Spending way too much time tickling each other, peals of laughter coming from them both as they both try to attack each other’s sensitive spots. (His laughter is so cute AND I REALLY MISS HIM PLS WJDSK)

Morning cuddles and kisses as sunlight spills into the room.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good once we get there, yeah?” (MY HONEST REACTION WAS LITERALLY “???” I JUST?? WHAT?? SINCE WHEN WAS HE- AND HIM SWEARING? HOT HOT HOT HOT WKGKAKS)

Character A taking Character B’s hand into theirs while they’re driving. “You can drive with one hand, right?” they ask with a little grin, and Character B chuckles and nods. “Of course I can.” (HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND IS SO HOT BYE)

Character B guiding the speed of Character A’s hips as Character A grinds against them. (can he PLEASE manhandle me-)

“Okay, I’ll let you tickle me wherever you want if you give me one kiss.” (He lied a few times AHAHA, dodged my attacks instead after I gave him his kisses bruhhh)

Character B lending their clothes to Character A since Character A’s staying the night. (The way I smelled like him AHHHH)

The soft “yeah?” Character B would mutter in response when they’re messing around with Character A and noises would fall from Character A’s mouth, involuntarily.

Stopping their play fight every now and again to kiss each other.

Character B flirting with Character A and Character A not knowing how to respond other than half groaning and half laughing and calling them insufferable (affectionately). (Like I said, I’m romantically constipated-)

Character B laughing every time Character A calls them annoying and insufferable whenever they flirt with them.

Character A leaning in to kiss Character B… And then using that opportunity to tickle them when Character B’s guards are down.

Them just laughing with each other at the dumbest shit until they’re out of breath; finding comfort and joy in each other’s company.

Character A teasing Character B with how ticklish they are on certain spots.

Character B tugging at the hem of Character A’s top, wanting to take it off, but Character A shakes their head and Character B immediately respects that by backing off a bit. (I’m including this because I don’t think people understand that any signs of no means no. Some people need to take notes for real)

“So… Are you going to stay over tonight?” “…Mm, maybe next time.” “You always say next time, though.” (EWLKNFWELN He really wanted me to stay, and I clearly folded so um pwnfewklnf)

“I’m sorry if I’m like… Slow with all of this? I’m not experienced with any of this, and I don’t know what I’m doing. And I don’t think I’m ready for… You know.” “And that’s fine. Like I said, we’ll take it slow; we’ve got all the time in the world to get comfortable with each other, hm?” (WHEN I SAY I WAS GOING WEKJFNEWJKNEWFLN WHEN HE REASSURED ME, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AHHH)

Character B climbing back into bed after taking their morning shower to get more cuddles in with Character A before they have to go to work.

“You can just change in here if you want.” (WO4HKLWFN THIS FUCKING MAN LMFAOOO, the way I didn’t listen and went to the bathroom to change because I’m still feeling too embarrassed to change in front of him even though he’s kind of seen me topless before)

Hugging each other a little tighter, and Character A mumbling, “God, I really don’t want to leave” before they part ways.

“The way you keep running around in my mind everyday… How dare you?” Character A mumbles. “Well, is there a problem with that?” Character B questions with a chuckle. (I’m bold for this one, praise me LKNEFKLNWG)

The constant check ins from Character B, to make sure Character A’s all good and well. (every prompt list has this because it’s something I’ll always fucking harp on about lmao)

Character B grasping Character A’s wrists so they’d stop attacking their ticklish spots, pulling them in for a kiss instead. (He did this SO MANY TIMES AND FAILED SO MANY TIMES AHAHA, I’m a sneaky menace)

Character A pulling the Spiderman kiss on Character B while Character B’s lying down. (I WANNA KISS HIM MORE FUCKSLKFNES’F)

Character A waking up in Character B’s clothes and in their bed, hair all mussed up and sporting a faint mark on their neck. (I think I uh… I think I like having marks on my neck?? Made by him, specifically, IDK wpeofnew;nf)

Get home safe! Love you lots and lots, Character B texts Character A. (THE WAY I SMILED WHEN I SAW HIS TEXT WHILE HEADING TO THE STATION AHAHA, it wasn’t even ten minutes since we parted and he sent me this and I was fangirling about it to my friends AHAHA)

“Aren’t you going to get up now? You gotta get to work,” Character A says, poking Character B’s side. “Mmm, five more minutes,” Character B murmurs, pulling Character A closer to them. (HE’S SO CLINGY AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHDFOEKNF)

Character A realising they might actually be falling in love, slowly but surely, with Character B. (YEAH SO THIS IS A REVELATION AND A HALF AND IDK HOW TO FEEL ABOUT IT)

#long post #based on personal experience 😮‍💨#so sorry for all of the commentary HAHAH #and yes before you say anything i’m living the fanfic life for you all LESNFNLK #cat guy chronicles #writing prompts #prompts #dialogue prompts #writing scenarios #otp prompts #suggestive prompts #smut prompts #fluff prompts #non-suggestive prompts

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