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#anyway. ''heres a fic idea i have'' my brother in christ the post is 1.7k
enderspawn · 1 year
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theres this fic idea i’ve been thinking of for a long while now (honestly i've had this specific post drafted since may of this year, so maybe since january or so) and want to eventually write one day, but if im being honesty with myself i'm not sure if i ever will, so im at least putting it out there now.
its a chip analysis piece (likely in some kind of 5+1 format, primarily from jay’s POV) specifically between chip and his relationship with food. the simple fact he’s always been this scrawny malnourished street kid when growing up outside of the black rose means a lot to me, and it would likely cause a lot of habits or behaviors the others wouldnt have or possibly even understand to begin with which would be a fun thing to explore and how it can reveal more abt him.
scenes/topics that would be Covered will be under cut
1 ---
the first thing that immediately comes to mind is an analysis and expansion upon his canon interactions with food in canon, such as the bag of chip’s jay gives him on loffinlot or the cinnamon roll incident
for one, the fact that jay carries snacks at all is kind of indicative and would likely be the focus. use jay's pov to explain how she’s learned to bring snacks on adventures since teaming with chip (likely with comments being somewhat snide or huffy about it, or comparing him to a child demanding/needing a snack, since they are still kind of strangers and she doesn’t know much about chip).
(if desired, it could also expand on how he fuckin’ made that small bag of chips last so long. yes the true answer is “because it was funny” but like… rationing behavior? jay might make an absent note of it (due to her observant feat), but wouldn’t likely extrapolate further at the time. also may be cut entirely for messing with story flow too much to include as a detail.)
the cinnamon roll scene is… listen he literally tried to share food with someone and broke down crying doing so because he loves them and wants to share that. obvious example of using food as a language for love and appreciation (which, again, takes on another level when you remember he comes from a food-scarce background). like thats just a thing that happened i don’t care if it was a goof that’s just canon. bite me. 
2 ---
observation of chip having "weird" behaviors with food. these include having a seemingly massive appetite and being sure to always clean his plate (you don’t turn down access to food and you take what you can in case you can’t do it again soon.) 
but also: as part of chip kind of projecting onto ollie, he’s always trying to pawn more food onto ollie’s plate. sometimes it’s as subtle as saying he’s “not hungry anymore” and scrapping whats left to ollie (which would catch jay’s eye because previously he’s always finished his plate even when full and clues her in) to as obvious as literally giving him more and saying he needs to eat more.
both the above points would be stuff jay would 1. spot and 2. actually take note of/care about, around after desire island or so. 
3 ---
immediately after leaving allport, i think seeing reuben would bring back a bunch of chip's old habits and cause him to backslide a bit. after all, even if they were a “family”, they were also still a gang of street rats. on instinct, he would end up showing a lot of food guarding habits (being overly protective of people taking it, hiding food in a stash, etc). he likely also had these habits for a while after joining with jay and gillion, but after episode 16 when they started slowly getting closer the habits faded because he knew he could trust them. 
4 ---
this is such a minor point in comparison to the rest of this list but i can see it so clearly in my brain. chip has an apple (likely stolen tbh) and he takes a bite out of it and leans against a wall. jay either makes a snide comment towards him about it or just snorts or something, prompting chip to hold it up towards her and go “you want some?” in a snarky way (speaking with his mouth full all the while).
jay rolls her eyes and says yes and gets startled when chip actually throws her the apple. she yelps, catching it, then throws it back immediately while yelling something like “ew, no, you took a bite of it already! i was kidding! gross!” chip feigns being wounded and retorts with something like “and here i was willing to expose myself to your stink getting on my apple–” and cue bickering between them about cooties. 
he just straight up was willing to share the apple, thoughts abt "the fact he already bit into it" don’t register for him bc its such a non-issue in his mind. he offers to share about any food he has/makes because its a silent way to show he cares. i don’t think he’s fully conscious of that fact though. in general i think chip responds a lot better to subtle actions showing love than words of love and this is just another example of that from him
(following this is likely where cinnamon roll scene would go in the fic, both timeline-wise and thematically, since this section is focused more or less on "sharing your food as a sign of love")
5 ---
this next section would be the most plot heavy or traditional “fic” affair, in that it’s not solely fluff padding/analysis and has some original storybits.
the crew would be stranded on an island. i don’t know how exactly, but the key parts is that they don’t have their ship, there’s no one else on the island, and they have limited resources/rations. presumably they know rescue is coming, but ideally they don’t know exactly when (for drama purposes, as well as to make proper rationing out supplies p much impossible). perhaps the grandberry crew is on their way to save them, but they ended up on this island after a storm and don’t know where they are to point the grandberry pirates to. something like that.
actually, this plays out very similarly to the ollie part as detailed earlier, but to the left. as the crew starts to struggle with rations, chip would start (subtly when possible) start giving up his own portions. either by feigning lack of appetite, persuasion, deception, etc. the closest he comes to stating the truth would be when someone (likely ollie) asks if he’ll be okay going without his portion and chip shrugs then leans back on his elbows with a smirk and goes “nah, i’m used to it anyway.”
this is when the rest of the crew also starts to pick up on chip’s behaviors, to the point it becomes a bit of an unspoken secret they don’t want to dig into. previously, and the reason the entire fic is from Jay's POV, shes been the only one observant enough to take notice off all these traits. this is when it becomes So obvious everyone notices it.
6 ---
preferably, near the beginning of the story (likely after the chip bag incident, but before jay starts noticing all of chip’s behaviors, so that she cares for him more than she’s annoyed by him but hasn't put together any real dots-- between section 1 and 2), there would be a section where chip is mocked for his short height (as the shortest of the crew, at around 5’4) and being VERY easy for gillion to carry. 
then, after the island section (section 5), there would be another part where chip’s height and weight are commented on. i'm undecided if this would be another light hearted goof scene or a more “dramatic” serious scene (which if it was it would likely be tied to the island incident. maybe an injury or argument or something?).
either way, it happens because jay ends up lifting/carrying chip. jay “8 in strength” ferin. he’s just fuckin light. afterwards, chip would explain saying something like “its not my fault! cause like– outside of arlin, i was kind of a street rat growing up, yknow? they arent particularly known for having a stable food situation, didn’t get all the nutrients and junk you need to grow tall”. it starts as a joke and a kind of light-hearted ribbing defense, but kind of sobers up in that melancholic-nostalgic way by the end.
it’s the first time he directly states anything abt his upbringing and food to his crew, but its a confirmation. well, its a confirmation for jay. everyone else definitely knew something was going on, but jay is the one who is able to connect all the pieces bc she’s the only one whos noticed all the other pieces. she gets the Whole Picture of how his childhood and upbringing caused all these behaviors and kind of what they imply abt chip's behavior now (like the food sharing as love, smothering ollie, etc)
+ 1 ---
for a cheesy ending bonus, have jay use a mix of chip’s anecdotes abt the black rose and drey’s shaky memory to try and cook up a meal he used to have there. (for bonus, if desired she could reach out to lizzie too since lizzie lived with the old chef shay).
depending on author preference, either its good and chip cries because of the ~*memories*~ and the fact they cared enough, or it’s comically awful and not much at all like the original but the sole fact that they went out of their way to very obviously try SO hard to surprise him with this because they thought it would make him happy (as well as trying to speak to him in his own love language) makes him cry about it anyway. 
(again, chip responds better to acts of love than words-- having his crew not only notice this abt him, but then do something to try and show that love hits him way harder than anything else could)
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masterofmunson · 7 years
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Chase You Down (1)
Mobster!Bucky x Reader
Based off of Chase You Down by RUNAGROUND
Summary: The infamous Brooklyn mob boss, Bucky Barnes, has a tendency of sleeping around and killing people on a short fuse. So what happens when a certain girl catches his eye and turns his already shitty world upside down?
BEFORE YOU READ: this is a semi-oc fic! You can still insert your name into the fic, that’s not changing. However, ‘you’, will have some characteristics that ‘you’ might not actually have in real time. It just fits the story better if I actually describe it instead of leaving holes in the story. Enjoy!
Warnings: swearing, violence
Word Count: 1.7k+
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
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She sticks out like a sore thumb in my joint. Not because this is her first day on the job, but because of her mannerisms. She isn’t from around here, that fact is clear as day. Her fingers tug on the fabric of her standard red, stretch off shoulder, Josephine Fishtail dress that I acquired all the girls to wear when they performed their set. She takes a deep breath before stepping into the light. She noticeably squints and casts her eyes downward, staring at the wooden floor boards that held her up on the stage. She lifts her head up and stares around the room for a brief second.
“Hiya! I’m Chrissy and the boys ‘n I are gonna play Sing, Sing, Sing by our good friend Benny! Enjoy, folks!” she grins, stepping off to the side stage and the curtains fall open. I watch her pick up a well-waxed trumpet and she stands in front of the band and all eyes are on her. She brings her hands up and the drums begin to play.
Music fills the bar and everyone gets to their feet and onto the dance floor. I watch her intensely, completely enamored by her stage presence. She controls the band like a damn colonial. Although she doesn’t fit in when she’s not performing, she’s definitely in her element when she is.
Against the light, I can see a light layer of sweat against her temple and the dress she wore spun whenever she moved. The song ends and she bows before placing her trumpet into her case and hopping off stage towards the bar. She takes the seat next to me and orders a glass of whiskey from the bartender.
“That was one helluva show you put on, Chrissy, if that’s your real name? How long have you been playing?” I ask, completely baiting her. I know it’s not, but I ask anyway. It’s standard protocol for the girls that work for me to have stage names. Although I’m one dangerous man, I do care for people. These girls bring in big money with their performances--and then some--and I need to make sure that they are safe from the sleazy men that creep around the area, preying on women like the one to my left.
“Who’s askin’?” she replies back, turning towards me. Her bright blue eyes shine with mischief and wonder. I have no idea who this woman is, yet she has me in the palm of her hand. Who is she, and most importantly why do I feel drawn to her? I’m James Buchanan Barnes for Christ sake! I’m dangerous and threatening. I like sleeping around. Why is this girl already meddling in my life? She's only said two words to me!
“The Boss of this joint,” I answer, crossing my arms over my chest, staring at her menacingly.
“O-Oh! I’m s-so sorry!” she squeaks in shame. Her eyes widen to the size of boulders and her face pales. “I had no i-idea that you were Mr. Barnes! I-I’m sorry! I'm Y/n.”
“It's alright, Cookie. What brings you to my joint?” I ask.
“Just tryin’a make ends meet. Never thought playin’ tunes could make me money. It's expensive to live here.”
“Are you new in town?”
“Dagnabbit! Is it that obvious?” she asks, blushing furiously. She brings her hands to her face and buries her face in her hands.
“With that kind of wacky slang, it sure is,” I chuckle. “Where are you from?”
“Only the best city in the world! Chicago!”
“You crack me up, Miss. Y/n. Chicago? Really? What a shame,” I tease, winking at her.
She rolls her eyes at me and downs the rest of her whiskey, “Of course you’d say that. Chicagoans and New Yorkers are suppose to hate each other, I suppose? This town might be bigger, but it doesn’t have the food that my city does. The pies and dogs are the greatest legacies on the planet!”
She laughs and glances at the clock. Her eyes widen to the size of saucers and she stumbles off the bar stool and picks up her coat and her instrument case. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes, but I have to go! I promised my friends I’d meet up with them after my shift was over. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes!” she exclaims, scurrying out of my bar.
I flag one of my bodyguards over and I stand up, “Get me a car and follow that girl. I want to know where she’s going.” He nods obediently and disappears.
I followed her to a tiny little house that’s a couple blocks from the bar. It has a brick finish and a tiny little porch. I wait just a few houses down from where she lives and she appears outside her home with two girls, a redhead and a brunette. She changed into a loose fitting sparkly blue dress and her hair is pinned out of her face. She looks stunning and happy. They start to walk down the street in the opposite direction and my bodyguard follows them at a safe distance to Roseland Ballroom. They pay the entrance fee to get inside and disappear. I hop out of the car and nod to the body guard at the door before stepping inside.
The place reeks of sweat and smoke. The music pounds in my ears and I maneuver myself towards the bar. I flag the bartender down and he places my usual drink of choice, Budweiser, in front of me. I thank him and turn my attention towards the dance floor, scanning the scene for the woman who’s captivated my attention. I see her almost immediately. She’s still dancing with her friends, but the men around her are looking at her like she’s their next meal.
A man taps her on the shoulder and she turns around to face him. He speaks and then she answers. She turns her back towards him and returns to dancing with her friends. I can’t help but smirk. She rather dance with her friends than with a man. I watch the man grab her arm, seemingly taking no for an answer, and I hop off the bar stool I’m sitting on, ready to beat the living shit out of him, but she beats me to it.
“Buzz off, asswipe!” she snarls, hooking him straight in the jaw. He stumbles back, completely thrown off by the strength of her punch. He falls to the ground and clutches his jaw. The redhead who she came in with grabs her by the arms.
“Are you okay? Let me see your fist,” the redhead demands soothingly, reaching for her hand.
“Pattie, I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I grew up with three older brothers. It’s fine. I’m fine,” Y/n sighs, pulling her arm out of her friends grasp. She runs a hand through her hair and noticeably winces as the pain from the punch creeps up her hand.
“Do you want some ice for that?” I ask over the loud music. She turns on her heels and is caught off guard by my presence. I smirk and push a strand of hair out of my face.
“Mi--Mister Barnes! You own this place too? What a pleasant surprise!” she stutters, scratching at the back of her neck. “Please tell me you didn’t see that.”
“I won’t say anything unless you don’t let me get ice for your hand,” I negotiate with a smirk, causing her face to fall. She sighs and nods, turning to her friends.
“I’ll be right back. This fella is gonna grab me some ice for my knuckles,” she states, turning back towards me and following me into the back where the kitchen is. I open the freezer and pull out a few ice cubes and wrap them in a wash cloth. I grab her hand and place it on her knuckles. She winces for a brief second before relaxing. “Sorry about that scene back there. I have a short fuse when it comes to jerks like him. I blame the Irish in me,” she laughs, blushing at the ground.
“Ah, you’re Irish?” I ask, “Me too.”
“Yeah, my Ma came over when she was sixteen. Met my Pa a couple of years later and the rest is history.”
“What made you leave Chicago?”
“I didn’t want to just be a house-wife. I had my own dreams and ambitions and my brothers and jerk of an ex boyfriend didn’t like that too much. That and I didn’t want to run the family business when it was my turn, so I left. None of ‘em know where I am. It’s better this way. Besides, I’m happier than I’ve been in years. These past couple of months have been nothing short of wonderful. I love New York.”
“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry,” I apologize.
Her eyes narrow at me and she takes a deep breath, “Enough about me, what about you? Aren't you suppose to be an intimidating mob boss or something? Cos’ if you are, you're not really that scary, or intimidating, no offense, Mr. Barnes.”
I genuinely laugh at her question. She's right. I'm suppose to. I normally am, but those tendencies and mannerisms have seemingly disappeared since I've spoken to her. “None taken. You're right, I am. I dunno what's gotten into me.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Of course I know what's gotten into me. It's the short, blonde and blue-eyed, Chicago native standing in front of me. Lying comes way too damn easy for me. She laughs and I swear I haven't heard anything more beautiful in my entire life. Her smile radiates the dull kitchen and makes my shitty lifestyle seem somewhat bearable.
“Well, Mr. Barnes, whatever’s gotten ‘into you,’ I quite like, so don't stop on my account,” she winks flirtatiously at me, causing my cheeks to flush. “Thanks for the ice. I'll see you at work tomorrow, Mr. Barnes.”
She hops off the counter and tosses the rag into one of the sinks. Her heels click against the tile and I call out to her, causing her to turn around. “You can call me Bucky. All my friends do.”
“Are you saying we're friends, Mr. Barnes?” she asks, raising a brow at me. I know she's teasing me, but I don't care.
“After what just happened, I sure hope so. I'm not nice to just anyone.”
“Well, Bucky, I'm glad I'm not just anyone,” she smirks. “See ya ‘round!”
A/N: AHHHHHH!!!! I couldn’t wait to post this till after QOTW was completed, so now I’m working on these two stories lol! If you want to be tagged, let me know!
PERMANENT TAGLIST: @jessevans @gingerbatchwife @ria132love @aenna-4 @bubblyaschampagne
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