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4 rb's bd
SOMEONE HAS A BIRTHDAY TODAY
To preface: It ain't fic, but it could've been at some point!
In honor of racketballz's annual celebration of existing, here are Greens-themed bits and pieces I scrapped for those ficlets. (Which, believe it or not, I'm still working on, but rl stuff has flared up in the past few months so those are getting handled first. Soon though!)
I wish it could be real stuff, but enjoy it anyway? (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU-KNOW-WHO 💗💙💚)
I guess I should set this stuff up first huh?
This was my first attempt at the last Greens ficlet that got posted. Originally it was about Butch coming to Buttercup after getting injured, but I stopped b/c it was too angsty and not fluffy at all. Hurt/comforty? idk here
--
“Hold still.”
Butch laughed, and his voice sounded wet. Shit. Not a good sign. Buttercup thought of internal bleeding and blood bubbling up his throat.
“What else am I gonna do?” he said, and cleared his throat.
She braced her knee against his chest as gently as she could and gestured for him to grab on to her other leg, firmly planted on the ground.
“I don’t think this is the time,” he said, issuing a pointed look at the metal that had run through his shoulder.
She ignored him and closed her hands around the steel rod, slick with his blood, and silently willed herself to not lose her grip. She wanted to do this in one shot.
He closed his eyes and exhaled. His hand crawled up the back of her calf.
He cried out when she yanked, but she’d succeeded, and it came out clean. Fresh blood welled up, and she threw the metal aside and pressed her hands to it to staunch the wound.
Butch opened his eyes and looked past her, kicking his leg a bit as he rode out the pain.
“I’m dizzy,” he whispered.
“Don’t be dizzy,” she whispered back. Dizzy was bad. Dizzy meant passing out, and with all the blood he’d lost—
“Looking at you makes me dizzy.”
She felt as if a match had been struck inside her chest. “So don’t look at me.”
He blinked torpidly at her, his pupils dilated and filled with the night’s stars.
“No,” he said, and stared.
The bleeding appeared to be slowing, at least. She told him so.
“That’s good,” he said, and stared.
“Butch.”
“Come here,” he whispered. “Please?”
“Let me focus on this.”
“I’m okay. The X is doing the hard part. Or maybe that’s the easy part.”
--
I forgot I wrote that "Looking at you makes me dizzy" bit, that came out kinda nice.
Uhhh okay. This next one requires more setup. I thought back to this old cheesecake (God I'm pretty sure nobody uses the term "cheesecake" anymore, I am An Old) pic of a lady lounging in a tub half-full of water partially clothed and I'd always found it hot, and then thought Hmm I should make it Butch in the tub with Buttercup being all ArgghhahHHHGHGHGHGHGHG
As I was writing it though I realized I was making it jump through too many hoops to try and make the premise work, so I scrapped it. In retrospect I should've stopped trying to """explain""" why he was in the tub and why Buttercup was there and what was going on, because at the end of the day, basically all I wanted was to write Butch in a tub and Buttercup being kind of horny about it.
The lesson is Keep It Simple Stupid
--
“I’m crashing your Boys’ Night.”
Butch shook his head. “Not just a boys’ night. We invited you.”
“Mm.”
(Butch was supposed to be out at some party in a hotel room. idk man it was a WIP, I was going to figure the mechanics out later)
“Don’t come in here. I’m in my underwear.”
“Oh. Wait. Wait, you’re sitting in a tub half-full of water in your underwear?”
“And a t-shirt.” Some splashing. “I think it’s more like a quarter-full.”
She started laughing and shaking her head. “What the fuck. Are you high?”
Butch gasped. “How. Dare you.”
(I just remembered. For a second I thought about making them Not Friends, But Not Exactly Enemies Either, like Buttercup is called out to this hotel because Butch crashed one of the rooms and she's like Ugh fine and she gets there and he's all I just wanted to take a bath and then they have a conversation about it. Shit why didn't I just write that?)
“I saw it in a magazine. This girl was in a tub—”
“What kind of magazine?”
“What kind do you think? But it wasn’t a nudie, actually. She was wearing clothes. I mean, she was okay-looking, I guess. But the shot was sexy.”
“Do you feel sexy?”
“Mostly I feel wet.” Another beat. “Hehe.”
“Dork.”
“I think I need a lady to judge. Wanna go find one for me?”
She stuck her tongue out, even though he couldn’t see her. “Fuck you.”
“Come in here and tell me if I’m hot or not.”
“But you’re in your underwear.”
“I’m inviting you. Obviously I’m okay with it. This is in the name of science.”
Buttercup thought for a second.
“What, are you chicken? It’s not like you’re gonna see it—”
“Ain’t that the truth!” she said, grinning.
“Oh, fuck you!”
“I’m coming in,” she announced, still laughing. It was good. It’d mask her blush.
He makes a nice line.
(Judging from the above bit, looks like I thought about changing this to present tense at some point, too.)
Where the water had come into contact with his shirt, the fabric was near-transparent. She wanted to tell him to try opening his legs, but couldn’t bring herself to say so. She was having a hard enough time trying not to let her eyes linger too long.
Maybe his knees together was okay. It certainly wasn’t bad. It made him look boyish. It was kind of charming.
“You look kinda charming more than anything.”
He blew a raspberry, and she smirked. “Charming ain’t what I’m going for.”
“Charming’s alright.” She gave him the once over, her attention lingering on his beanie-clad head. “Take that off.”
Butch glanced down. “My underwear?”
“Shut up, dipshit.” Without waiting for him to punctuate his lame joke with a laugh, she snatched at his beanie herself and tossed it aside.
The laughter got strangled in his throat, and his eyes took on another character, peering from behind the hair that now tumbled into his face.
She reached to tousle his bangs, then halted, her senses returning to her. “Run a hand through it?”
(OHHHHH YEAH THAT'S RIGHT THIS ONE WAS ALL ABOUT HER TOUCHING HIS HAIR. Damn I wish I'd wound up writing that, I could've had fun with it!)
“So?” he asked, eyes lifting with the question and his voice like a shot of fire in her chest.
“There,” she whispered, still fussing absentmindedly with his hair, her hand dancing along his face as he looked up at her, his jaw clenching over and over again. “That’s better.”
--
There you have it. TFR Greens bits in honor of the true Queen of Green. HAPPY BIRTHDAY đź’šđź’šđź’š
To preface: It ain't fic, but it could've been at some point!
In honor of racketballz's annual celebration of existing, here are Greens-themed bits and pieces I scrapped for those ficlets. (Which, believe it or not, I'm still working on, but rl stuff has flared up in the past few months so those are getting handled first. Soon though!)
I wish it could be real stuff, but enjoy it anyway? (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU-KNOW-WHO 💗💙💚)
I guess I should set this stuff up first huh?
This was my first attempt at the last Greens ficlet that got posted. Originally it was about Butch coming to Buttercup after getting injured, but I stopped b/c it was too angsty and not fluffy at all. Hurt/comforty? idk here
--
“Hold still.”
Butch laughed, and his voice sounded wet. Shit. Not a good sign. Buttercup thought of internal bleeding and blood bubbling up his throat.
“What else am I gonna do?” he said, and cleared his throat.
She braced her knee against his chest as gently as she could and gestured for him to grab on to her other leg, firmly planted on the ground.
“I don’t think this is the time,” he said, issuing a pointed look at the metal that had run through his shoulder.
She ignored him and closed her hands around the steel rod, slick with his blood, and silently willed herself to not lose her grip. She wanted to do this in one shot.
He closed his eyes and exhaled. His hand crawled up the back of her calf.
He cried out when she yanked, but she’d succeeded, and it came out clean. Fresh blood welled up, and she threw the metal aside and pressed her hands to it to staunch the wound.
Butch opened his eyes and looked past her, kicking his leg a bit as he rode out the pain.
“I’m dizzy,” he whispered.
“Don’t be dizzy,” she whispered back. Dizzy was bad. Dizzy meant passing out, and with all the blood he’d lost—
“Looking at you makes me dizzy.”
She felt as if a match had been struck inside her chest. “So don’t look at me.”
He blinked torpidly at her, his pupils dilated and filled with the night’s stars.
“No,” he said, and stared.
The bleeding appeared to be slowing, at least. She told him so.
“That’s good,” he said, and stared.
“Butch.”
“Come here,” he whispered. “Please?”
“Let me focus on this.”
“I’m okay. The X is doing the hard part. Or maybe that’s the easy part.”
--
I forgot I wrote that "Looking at you makes me dizzy" bit, that came out kinda nice.
Uhhh okay. This next one requires more setup. I thought back to this old cheesecake (God I'm pretty sure nobody uses the term "cheesecake" anymore, I am An Old) pic of a lady lounging in a tub half-full of water partially clothed and I'd always found it hot, and then thought Hmm I should make it Butch in the tub with Buttercup being all ArgghhahHHHGHGHGHGHGHG
As I was writing it though I realized I was making it jump through too many hoops to try and make the premise work, so I scrapped it. In retrospect I should've stopped trying to """explain""" why he was in the tub and why Buttercup was there and what was going on, because at the end of the day, basically all I wanted was to write Butch in a tub and Buttercup being kind of horny about it.
The lesson is Keep It Simple Stupid
--
“I’m crashing your Boys’ Night.”
Butch shook his head. “Not just a boys’ night. We invited you.”
“Mm.”
(Butch was supposed to be out at some party in a hotel room. idk man it was a WIP, I was going to figure the mechanics out later)
“Don’t come in here. I’m in my underwear.”
“Oh. Wait. Wait, you’re sitting in a tub half-full of water in your underwear?”
“And a t-shirt.” Some splashing. “I think it’s more like a quarter-full.”
She started laughing and shaking her head. “What the fuck. Are you high?”
Butch gasped. “How. Dare you.”
(I just remembered. For a second I thought about making them Not Friends, But Not Exactly Enemies Either, like Buttercup is called out to this hotel because Butch crashed one of the rooms and she's like Ugh fine and she gets there and he's all I just wanted to take a bath and then they have a conversation about it. Shit why didn't I just write that?)
“I saw it in a magazine. This girl was in a tub—”
“What kind of magazine?”
“What kind do you think? But it wasn’t a nudie, actually. She was wearing clothes. I mean, she was okay-looking, I guess. But the shot was sexy.”
“Do you feel sexy?”
“Mostly I feel wet.” Another beat. “Hehe.”
“Dork.”
“I think I need a lady to judge. Wanna go find one for me?”
She stuck her tongue out, even though he couldn’t see her. “Fuck you.”
“Come in here and tell me if I’m hot or not.”
“But you’re in your underwear.”
“I’m inviting you. Obviously I’m okay with it. This is in the name of science.”
Buttercup thought for a second.
“What, are you chicken? It’s not like you’re gonna see it—”
“Ain’t that the truth!” she said, grinning.
“Oh, fuck you!”
“I’m coming in,” she announced, still laughing. It was good. It’d mask her blush.
He makes a nice line.
(Judging from the above bit, looks like I thought about changing this to present tense at some point, too.)
Where the water had come into contact with his shirt, the fabric was near-transparent. She wanted to tell him to try opening his legs, but couldn’t bring herself to say so. She was having a hard enough time trying not to let her eyes linger too long.
Maybe his knees together was okay. It certainly wasn’t bad. It made him look boyish. It was kind of charming.
“You look kinda charming more than anything.”
He blew a raspberry, and she smirked. “Charming ain’t what I’m going for.”
“Charming’s alright.” She gave him the once over, her attention lingering on his beanie-clad head. “Take that off.”
Butch glanced down. “My underwear?”
“Shut up, dipshit.” Without waiting for him to punctuate his lame joke with a laugh, she snatched at his beanie herself and tossed it aside.
The laughter got strangled in his throat, and his eyes took on another character, peering from behind the hair that now tumbled into his face.
She reached to tousle his bangs, then halted, her senses returning to her. “Run a hand through it?”
(OHHHHH YEAH THAT'S RIGHT THIS ONE WAS ALL ABOUT HER TOUCHING HIS HAIR. Damn I wish I'd wound up writing that, I could've had fun with it!)
“So?” he asked, eyes lifting with the question and his voice like a shot of fire in her chest.
“There,” she whispered, still fussing absentmindedly with his hair, her hand dancing along his face as he looked up at her, his jaw clenching over and over again. “That’s better.”
--
There you have it. TFR Greens bits in honor of the true Queen of Green. HAPPY BIRTHDAY đź’šđź’šđź’š
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