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kafka-ish · 4 years

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what billy doesn’t know won’t hurt him | r.t.

when things get heated between bill and richie, richie takes it a step further. now things are heated between bill, richie, and bill’s girlfriend.

word count: 7,429

warnings/included: nsfw (smut but it’s vanilla), cheating, pining, angst(?), fem!reader

a/n: this concept is awful and this whole fic was written for my own self indulgence so i hope you’ll forgive me

It was no surprise that Bill would be the first of the Losers to get a girlfriend and Richie knew this. What’s not to like about Big Bill? He had a certain leadership quality and charisma to him that no girl could resist. His stark auburn hair and tall figure probably didn’t help either.

Richie first met Bill’s new belle at the arcade. The Losers made plans to meet each other there one Friday night in celebration for their exam week ending.

“Guh-guys, I’m br-bringing my guh-guh—”

“Guacamole? That’s cool and all, Billiam, but I’m sure you can just get some there.” Richie erupted into a fit of laughter because that was the thing about Richie; he always laughed at his own jokes whether they were funny or not.

Bill’s backhand flew to the underside of Richie’s chin and Eddie cringed at the jarring sound of skin on skin. Bill grew tired of Richie’s incessant interruptions. His friend never seemed to let him finish a thought.

“No.” He let out an annoyed sigh, hoping it would come across as an indication for Richie to maybe, for once in his life, get his head out of his ass. “Mm-my girlfr-friend.” Once he finished his sentence, he made sure to shoot Richie a smirk. It looked the same as his smirk he wore when he finished beating him at chess or when one of the other Losers’ got in the last word instead of him. This time Bill got in the last word.

“That’s good for you, Bill!” Bev piped up. “We need another girl around here.” She looked to the room of all boys in slight disgust. “Not that you guys aren’t great —”

“Well... Now you’ll have someone to have ‘girl talk’ with.” Ben looked around to Bill, Richie, Stan, and Eddie. All except Richie nodded in agreement.

“Tough crowd. You can count me in on the girl talks, though.” Beverly slapped the suggestive look right off Richie’s face which he yelped at.

“Richie, you’ve been slapped so many times, you should be numb to the feeling by now.” Stan shook his head as a disappointed mother would, but his smile said differently.

Their conversation continued; ranging from what grades they received on their finals and what time they would meet up.

They decided on six.

But Bill was late. Bill was never late.

“Where’s Bill?”

The Losers were squeezed together in one of the booths the lounge area of the arcade had to offer. Beverly and Ben’s shoulders pressed together while they sucked down the same strawberry milkshake. Mike sat beside the couple, because neither Stan nor Eddie would, while picking through the fries to find the crispy ones.

Eddie, Stan, and Richie sat on the other side. Stan kept complaining to Mike about how he “shouldn’t touch every one of the fries” and that he was “hogging all the good ones.” Eddie, on the other hand, ran his mouth about the multiple diseases Ben and Beverly could catch from sharing their food (or anything for that matter).

“Probably getting one-off in the bathroom with—”

“Beep Beep, R-Richie!” It was the man of the hour. Bill silenced his friend to which the rest of the group was thankful for. Even though Richie’s anecdotes could be entertaining, they did not want to hear about their friend’s sex life: made up or not.

“Hey, Big Bill!” Richie turned a ninety in his seat to see the look on his friend’s face, but he didn’t expect to be met with the scene of Bill and his arm wrapped around some girl. A hot one at that.

Bill kissed her temple before directing his attention to the group. “Everyone, th-th-this is—”

“I’m y/n.”

“Mmm-my guh-girlfriend.” Bill said this almost too proudly.

“I didn’t know Billiam was actually capable of getting some.” Richie fell into a fit of laughter and held up his hand for a round of high fives he was expecting. But instead of a slap on the back and a “good one, Rich”, Richie was given a variety of bored and ‘are-you-serious’ looks.

“Anyway,” Stan broke the silence. “y/n, you wanna pull up a chair? Sorry, we didn’t get a table big enough…”

“It’s ff-ine,” Bill said as he was climbing into the booth next to Richie. “There’s room.” He gave y/n a suggestive look, raising his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth upturned slightly. His girlfriend ducked her head; embarrassed in front of Bill’s friends she had never met before. She could feel her cheeks heating up and the group’s stare on her when she went to sit on Bill’s lap.

To that, Richie whistled and said, “What’s next, are you gonna make her give you a lap dance?” Anger took over Bill’s body. His muscles tensed under his skin and it became harder to conceal his scowl. “Don’t worry, doll.” Richie started whispering into y/n’s ear. “If Bill gets hard you won’t—you won’t notice since he’s —”

Richie couldn’t finish his sentence. Partly because his laughing prevented him from doing so. Bill had also jabbed him in the shoulder causing Richie to pull away from the couple.

“Gee, Bill, I didn’t know you could—”

“Richie, that’s enough!” Bill, no longer able to keep his composed expression, raised his voice.

All the Losers watched intently. Bill never raised his voice, so to say that this was a rare occasion was just as much of an understatement as saying, “Stan liked birds.”

“Luh-look, Richie, I th-th-hink you’re a funny guy. A li-little too vulgar fo-or my taste, but yo-you make the room laugh. But luh-late-ly you’ve been making a lot of juh-jokes regarding muh-me—”

“Or what you don’t have.”

“Th-this is what I’m ta-talking ab-out.” Bill watched his friend sternly, waiting for an apology. Even the smallest sorry would be good enough for him.

Richie stayed silent.

“You… you know, it-it’s funny that you muh-make all th-these jokes ab-about mm-me when you’ve nev-her had a girlfr-hend. God, Richie, cuh-can you even guh-get a girl to… to like yo-you back?” He recalled all the times Richie had been rejected. How Richie must be the least desirable kid in school with his track record of turn downs.

Stillness filled the air. Aside from Bill’s lengthy speech, none of the Losers had said anything for the past five minutes. What was there to say? Even Richie was left speechless.

“We’ll b-be guh-going now.” y/n slid off Bill’s lap. She waited passively for him as he got up from his seat. Bill wasted no time for goodbyes. He walked out of the door with a swagger that none of the Losers had seen on him before. But y/n stayed behind, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“It was nice meeting you all…” Her attempt to ease the uneasiness between them was admirable. “I hope we can do this again sometime, yeah?” She was a sweet girl. The words that left her mouth were... genuine, not just being said because of the unexpected outburst at the table.

She parted from the group shortly after, not wanting to keep Bill waiting long. Richie’s eyes were glued to y/n’s backside while she pranced towards the door. The way her hips swayed were captivating and even though her dress was loose it was just short enough to—

“Richie, you’re staring.”

“Am I?” Richie averted his eyes away from Bill’s girlfriend, now finding the voice who’d scolded him.

“Yes, and it’s disgusting,” Stan scoffed. He shot Richie a glare but not his usual glare. Stan was actually disgusted. His eyes were squinted slightly, and Richie could tell his brain was trying to figure out what was going on in Richie’s own.

“Okay, everyone agrees with me that y/n is way too hot for Bill, right?” Richie asked the group. A little gossip never hurt anyone right?

But the responses were lackluster.

“I think Bill and y/n look cute together!” Beverly was the first one to defend Bill. Ben nodded after her because let’s be honest, that boy agreed with everything she said just to keep himself on her radar.

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about this behind Bill’s back.” Mike was next and he wore an uncomfortable look on his face. Multiple Losers (everyone except for Richie) had agreed with him on that one.

“y/n seems nice—”

“Exactly!” Richie could almost jump out of his seat as he cut Eddie off. “Bill doesn’t deserve her!”

“I think someone’s jealous.” Richie snapped his head to look at Stan who wasn’t doing the same. He was too busy wiping off the condensation from his drink glass.

“Why would you say that?” Richie’s eyebrow rose at the accusation and there became a burning need for an answer that grew inside him. The rest of the Losers had also become intrigued.

“First of all, you think she’s hot—”

“Richie thinks anything with legs is hot,” Eddie said, and everyone forgot what the conversation was about for a moment as they took a minute to laugh at his remark.

“Richie, why don’t you think y/n’s good enough for Bill?” Stan asked.

There was no response while Ben, Beverly, Eddie, Mike, and Stan had their eyes on him. Although Richie usually handled himself well under pressure and in social situations, he felt a bad concoction of the coke he had just downed and the fries he was snacking on creeping their way back up his throat for a second taste.

“Hey, Stanny, I didn’t ask for ya to go all Freud on me.” Richie chuckled; trying to brush off the funny feeling in his stomach.

Richie felt a sort of relief wash over him when he was let off the hook. Ben and Beverly were playing a game of tic tac toe on a napkin and Mike, Stan, and Eddie found themselves in a three-way debate: Jurassic Park versus Jaws. Eddie was offering The Wizard of Oz to the table since his mom hadn’t let him watch either yet, but Stan and Mike wouldn’t budge.

But it didn’t help that Richie’s thoughts drifted back to Bill’s words earlier that night. God, Richie, cuh-can you even guh-get a girl to… to like yo-you back? Could he? A swarm of unwanted memories infiltrated his mind. Cierra from math class who had laughed in his face after he said, “Are you a forty-five angle? Because you’re a-cute-y.” Or when he asked out Elle, his longtime crush, to homecoming only to be told she had a boyfriend. The list goes on.

Those words apparently had such an impact on Richie because they followed him to the weekend which was spent laying on his bed as Bill’s voice echoed through Richie’s brain over and over again.

You… you know, it-it’s funny that you muh-make all th-these jokes ab-about mm-me when you’ve nev-her had a girlfr-hend.

“Never had a girlfriend, huh?” Richie thought aloud to himself in the safety of his own room. Just like a lightbulb would, Richie’s eyes lit up as an idea took place in his head. It was totally selfish, evil, and went heavily against the ‘bro code’. But who would Richie be to not go through one of his plans?

The bell signaling dismissal had just rung when Richie finalized his plan.

Meet y/n at her locker.

Drive her home from school.

Show her what she’s missing.

Serve Bill some sweet, sweet revenge.

Richie was the first one out the door—as always. But instead of his usual pace which solely relied on his long legs to carry him, he dashed for the hallway—like a prisoner making a break for it.

After peering through the sea of people long and hard, he spotted the same silky hair and small figure he’d seen the other night at the arcade.

“Hey, beautiful.” Richie propped himself against the row of lockers attached to y/n’s.

“I have a name.” And if it weren’t for the smile on her lips, Richie would’ve thought she was actually annoyed at him.

“You got a ride tonight?”

She shook her head while closing the door to her locker. “Yeah, actually.” y/n swung her backpack strap over her arm. “My boyfriend’s taking me home.” She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and she wouldn’t be surprised if her face turned a bright shade of red in front of this boy.

“That’s a shame.” A disappointed clicking sound left his mouth. “I got a seat next to me in my car that’s calling your name.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” y/n offered. Her tone sounded just as angelic as it did the other night.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Richie left y/n with a wink and nothing more.

Richie, did in fact, hold y/n to that. And to Richie’s surprise, y/n did keep her word. The next day followed like the last. His shoulder slanted against the metal doors while he watched the girl pack her stuff. Even her smallest actions were mesmerizing.

“You know, doll, I’m surprised you took me up on this offer.”

“Oh, really?” y/n’s eyebrow raised slightly, almost as if she were challenging him.

“Kind of.” Richie forced himself to chuckle. He turned so that his back was now held up by the lockers. “Won’t your boyfriend be mad?” He was now rethinking his plan. This awful plan of his that would most likely be the end of his and Bill’s-

“Nah.” The sound of metal slamming startled Richie and he was now standing upright. “Besides, what Billy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She threw a suggestive wink in his direction. Did Billy know his girlfriend was a cheater?

“Jeepers, babe. Don’t tell me you’re only kidding.” A quizzical look sprawled itself across Richie’s face and his eyes searched hers as if he were looking for something.

A giggle so saccharine it was probably drenched in maple syrup beforehand left the girl’s glossy lips. “I’m joking.” She shoved Richie with her elbow as they walked side by side. “Bill doesn’t know.” Her voice lowered, “but you’re his friend so it’s not like that matters, right?”

“You betcha’.” Richie had to swallow down one of his stupid remarks just to make himself sound convincing. He looked down, once they’d got to his car, and tried the handle only to be met with the fact it wouldn’t budge. A string of curses fell off his dirty mouth and he could hear a series of muffled laughs coming from the other side. “Ha. Ha. Laugh all you want, hot stuff, I’m here all week.” It took Richie long enough to realize that his car was locked.

Begrudgingly, he fished the keys from his pockets and finally got the door open.

“You’re a great chauffeur.” y/n rolled her eyes while buckling her seatbelt. “Hot!” She seethed, cradling her left hand that touched the hot metal from the buckle with her right.

“Aw. You need someone to kiss it better?” Richie cooed, delicately taking her hand in his.

“I’m good.” If y/n were any other girl Richie swore she would’ve flicked his head and called him an idiot. Instead, she coyly retracted her hand and looked out the window—actively facing away towards him.

A few seconds of quietness passed between them before y/n decided to break it. “So, tell me, Rich.” Richie had to keep himself from taking his eyes off the road. “Why’d you offer to drive me home?”

“Is chivalry so dead I can’t drive a gal home?”

“I mean…” She took a moment to stare at the car’s ceiling so she could find the right words. “Bill’s your best friend.”

“Don’t pretend what happened on Friday, like, didn’t fuckin’ happen.” Richie was being sarcastic, of course.

“I know he said some harsh words but—”

“Hey.” His voice calmed. “If Bill and I are best friends, then he shouldn’t have a problem with this. Right?” Richie looked over at y/n to see if she’d agree with him. “Right?”

“Okay,” she gave in. She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes, but it was enough confirmation for him.

“So, what’s the story between you and Big Bill?” Richie drummed on the steering wheel while y/n mulled over an answer.

y/n felt herself shy away at the question and as she recalled the events of Bill asking her out.

They first met in chemistry. Somehow, y/n had managed to let the dean switch her schedule so late in the year since Henry Bowers had accidentally spilled an aluminum chloride mix on her brand-new jeans.

“I’ll be deciding your lab partners today. Ever since last time I don’t think I can trust you guys to pick your own partners anymore.” Mr. Davis looked tired and y/n couldn’t blame him. In her head, she kept track of everyone who got paired together. Once he’d gotten to Gretta Keene, she soundlessly thanked god that she had been paired with Stacy. “y/n y/l/n and Bill Denbrough.”

y/n almost missed the bored voice as she was too lost in her thoughts.

Bill Denbrough?

Her eyes curiously darted around the room, searching for the sea of students in the desks surrounding her.

A pair of bright blue eyes finally caught hers. A pair of bright blue eyes that had to belong to Bill Denbrough.

“You-you’re y/n, rih-right?” Bill was now standing in front of her. She didn’t realize when he got up from his seat.

“Yeah.” y/n stood up to reach his eye, but she still stood noticeably shorter than him.

Bill’s once apprehensive demeanor visibly morphed into an expression filled with calmness and relief. Aside from his friends, she was the only other person who wasn’t impatient with his stutter. He felt he could immediately be vulnerable with her—not that he would be. But if this chemistry lab were the only time he would find himself interacting with this girl, Bill would seriously beat himself up for it.

The rest of their story was, essentially, history.

y/n liked having Bill as a lab partner. He was smart. He did his share, unlike her past partners who would pass notes to pass the period while y/n slaved away on the project by herself. He also didn’t hold any of the chemicals they were working with dangerously close to her, pretending as if he were going to spill them on her and then actually spill them on her.

It was on a Thursday morning when Bill met y/n on her way into school. Even though his watch showed seven-thirty am, the moon was still out and the only light in the sky was from the lampposts cemented into the sidewalk.

“H-hey, y/n!” It was odd to be as enthusiastic as he was this early, but y/n brushed it off—it must be post-coffee jitters and the effect was still wearing away.

“Hello.” Her voice still had a tiredness to it from when you first wake up in the morning.

“I was… I was won-wondering ih-if you wuh-would…”

“Yes?” y/n prompted. She glanced at him, making eye contact, which only worsened Bill’s nervousness.

“Would… would yo-you want to go ou-out wih-with me?”

Waiting for an answer felt like forever.

“I thought you’d never ask!” y/n beamed, and all signs of grogginess seemed to leave her body.

From then on, Bill and y/n went on dates. They were casual for the most part. y/n never felt the need to dress up and Bill never felt the need to buy her flowers. The only thing he did end up getting her was a stuffed bear which was twice her size.

The carnival would only be in town for a few days and y/n practically begged Bill to go—not that he needed much convincing. You could count him in as long as she was there.

Bill didn’t normally bother with carnival games—he knew they were rigged. But maybe it was the way the carnie teen running the booth talked to y/n that night. Or maybe it was the way y/n stared adoringly for the stuffed animal hanging from the plastic tent. In either scenario, Bill still spent twenty-five bucks and wasted an hour in the frigid air to eventually hook the ring over the milk bottle and win y/n that stupid bear.

“I think I’ll call it Bill,” she whispered as she squeezed the plush doll close to her chest.

“I-it’s the luh-least you cuh-can do.” Bill wrapped his arm around her even though he was the cold one.

“Wuh-wuh-we’re here,” Richie said. His voice masked with Bill’s stutter pulled y/n out of her dream-like state.

“That’s not nice, Rich.” But y/n couldn’t help to let out the smallest of laughs. She unbuckled her seatbelt only to find it wasn’t her house he drove her to once she opened her side of the door. “This isn’t my house.”

“Oh… it isn’t?” Richie never missed a beat; making sure to put on his ‘I’m-a-big-stupid-head’ act that his teachers never bought. It was worth a try.

“Take me home.” y/n crossed her arms and kept herself planted in the passenger seat of Richie’s car, which was just Wentworth’s old one that he’d given to his son once he splurged on a new one.

“Shit, toots. I thought you’d wanna stay a while. Have some fun.” Richie wiggled his eyebrows and wore a clown’s grin. How could she say no to him?

“We can have fun another time.” Like that apparently. “I really do need to get home, though.”

Richie’s been rejected loads of times before and he’s resented every one of them. He couldn’t resent y/n though—with her puppy dog eyes and the way she had him like a worm on a hook. She was something else.

“Alright.” Richie gave in. He keyed the ignition and started for the road again. His arm slung around y/n’s seat as he backed up and y/n couldn’t help but feel fuzzy at the small action. “So, you’re tellin’ me Big Bill never got you flowers?” Richie’s eyes never left the road no matter how much he wanted to stop the car and pin y/n down right then and there.

“Nope,” y/n said, popping the ‘p’ sound. “But I don’t mind.”

y/n minded.

Richie could tell she minded when he greeted her at her locker with a bouquet of daisies. He was sure if y/n didn’t already have a boyfriend she would’ve jumped him right then and there.

Oh right. Boyfriend.

“Are these for me?” y/n gasped, in awe at the dinky looking bouquet. It was just ten flowers held together with the same twine you’d use to tie a package with, but it was ten flowers she’d cherish.

“Who else would they be for, sugar?” Richie scoffed and handed off his homemade bouquet to the most stunning girl he’d laid eyes on.

y/n gave him a sly look and shoved him in the arm.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Ready to go where?” A look of confusion was drawn on her face and Richie couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

“I’m takin’ you home again, aren’t I?” But Richie was disappointed when y/n just chuckled in response instead of interlocking hands with his and skipping off into the sunset with him.

“I didn’t know you changed your name to Bill.” y/n brought the daises up to her nose. They didn’t have a scent, but her eyes fluttered at the petals tickling her nose and her stomach did backflips.

“Bill-Bill’s taking you?” His expression faltered and he had to swallow to keep his cool.

“I don’t know who else would,” y/n said this as if she just forgot what happened yesterday.

“I’ll be going then.” Richie pointed to behind him with his thumbs and looked back. He took one last look at y/n until he noticed a Bill Denbrough coming into view: a sign he really needed to leave.

His head hung low and his back hunched forward as he walked out the doorway. It was useless. y/n was utterly in love with his best friend while he was—was he in love with y/n?

No.

Richie Tozier does not love unless it’s his mom and rock n’ roll vinyls.

And y/n did not love Richie Tozier.

Richie felt himself mope all the way home at the thought of him being unlovable. Hell, he moped all the way to the weekend.

After his last encounter with y/n, Richie couldn’t bear to face her again. Embarrassment filled his chest every time Bill mentioned her at lunch, and he felt like shoving himself in a locker any time he spotted her in the halls.

That was until seeing her became unavoidable.

At first it was at the quarry.

Stan had already arranged for the group to meet up over the weekend and of course none of the Losers would pass up an opportunity to hang out with each other.

What Richie didn’t know was that Bill would be bringing his girlfriend. It seemed he’d be doing that a lot from now on.

“Is bringing y/n gonna be, like, a regular thing?” Eddie whispered in Bill’s ear.

Bill laughed awkwardly, unsure if he should reconsider taking y/n to the next hangouts he’d already planned to. “Wuh-when yo-you start dating, yo-you’ll under-sta-hand.” Bill then gave Eddie a pat on the back and walked off, looking for a rock he could leave his clothes on before he started for the water.

“Yeah, Eddie.” Stan laughed from behind Bill. “Wait until you’re older. Then, maybe, you’ll understand.”

Richie, on the other hand, was watching his friends from afar. He became uncharacteristically quiet as soon as y/n and Bill showed up. Only until Bev called that the last one in would be a rotten egg was when he finally shed himself of his clothes and raced the others to the water.

“Guess you’re the rotten egg, Eds!” Richie swam over to Eddie, splashing him in the face while doing so. Anything that would distract him from y/n would do. Even if it was a stupid conversation like this to pass the time.

“I told you to not call me that,” Eddie said crossly. “And if you’re going to splash like that, aim anywhere else but my face because who knows what’s been in this water—”

“Yeah, yeah. Cute story, Eds.” But Richie didn’t care for yet another lecture of Eddie’s. His eyes began to wonder. He was looking for y/n and good grief he had to stop himself before he was in too deep.

But it was a little late for that.

“Are you even listening to me?” Eddie swatted at Richie’s arm just like the times Richie had done to him.

“No,” Richie admitted.

Luckily, the contact between him and y/n had been limited. The only time he had to talk to her was when he was about to part from the group and say his goodbyes.

“Looks like I gotta blast, guys.” Richie looked down to the wristwatch Stan was wearing and Stan sneered at his friend for standing so close to him.

“Bye!” y/n was the last to call out, but her voice was the most prominent of the group’s.

The next two times the group met up, y/n included, Richie had also been able to get by with the least interactions as possible between her and him.

It was only until one lowly Sunday night when Bill and y/n had gotten into a fight when avoidance had become impossible for Richie.

“I can’t believe you would say that about me!” y/n had somehow accomplished being louder than the music blasting from the jukebox sitting in the back of the arcade and the sound of machines running combined. “I thought you were better than that, Bill.”

“I-I don’t guh-guh-get wuh-why you’re s-so off-f-hended.” Bill maintained a calm composure which only bothered y/n more.

“I think it’s the fact that you think I’m a prude that offends me so much.” y/n scoffed. Her arms were crossed, and she wore a stare that could kill.

“Yo-you know… i-if you-you’re so mm-mad I don’t underst-stand why you cuh-came.” The anger bubbling inside y/n started to radiate onto Bill.

“Because we have to talk about it!” She grabbed onto Bill’s arm when he tried to walk off.

“Can’t wuh-we juh-juh-just talk about th-this later?” Bill said in a growl. But later for him meant never.

The beginnings of what felt like tears started to form in y/n’s eyes. She let go of Bill’s arm and took a deep breath. “Okay,” she whispered, “we can talk later.”

Richie watched his best friend and girlfriend argue for what seemed like forever but was only about five minutes. He’d witnessed arguments before but none of them ended like this. When the couples at school argued they would usually make out right after. But this was different. y/n was hurt, and Bill was beyond annoyed.

“Hey.” Richie walked up to y/n as soon as Bill joined Stan and Mike for skee ball. “What was…” He traced his fingers against the brail of one of the arcade machines, doing everything he could do evade eye contact. “What was that about?”

“Will you take me home if I tell you?” A stray tear made its way down y/n’s hot cheek.

“Sure thing, babe.” Richie offered his hand for y/n to take. She did; her fingers intertwined with his and the pad of her thumb ran along the rough skin of the back of his hand.

When the two got to his car, Richie opened the door for y/n (as a gentleman should). This was followed up by a thank you and a shy smile.

“So, I’ll listen while you just sit back, enjoy the drive, and pour your goddamn heart out to me.” Richie started to turned his keys into the ignition. “Sound good, sweetheart?”

y/n’s heart jumped a beat and she could feel herself grow near feverish. She fiddled with her thumbs and swallowed her spit, hoping she’d find the courage to soon speak.

“It started last night,” her meek voice spoke up. y/n’s eyes were glued to Richie’s dashboard. It was covered in dust. “I was at Bill’s house and it was getting late.”

Bill craned his neck so he could find the time on his alarm clock that sat on his nightstand. He could’ve just asked y/n to check, but she seemed so at peace. He didn’t want to disturb her.

“It’s nine,” he said. His lips touched the shell of her ear, making y/n shiver.

“Should I go home?” y/n asked. She perked up and rubbed her eyes. She’d been dozing off, but even in a tired state, Bill found her perfect.

“Nah.” Bill tightened his already tight embrace on her. “I-I can tth-hink of some-something we can d-do.” He ducked his head so he could brush his lips against the sensitive skin on her neck.

y/n winced at his touch. Yet she still turned within his hold and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Her voice hushed and fragile.

“Yuh-yeah,” Bill said shamelessly. He cradled her head in his palm. His blue eyes bore into hers. The same blue eyes that had found her when their chemistry teacher paired them together. “C’m-mmon.”

“Bill, I…” y/n’s eyes danced across his features. His beautiful features she’d grown infatuated with from the moment they met. “We’ve gone over this, I thought.” Any sort of confidence she had was now lost.

Bill took a moment to study the girl in front of him. He loosened his hold around her and sat up, propping himself against his headboard. “I f-feel like we… like I’ve juh-just been wuh-wuh-waiting.”

y/n copied her boyfriend’s movements, making sure to not break their gaze as she adjusted herself. “And I respect that,” she said softly.

“Yeah b-but yo-you’re muh-my girlfriend.” He took her hand in his. “I wuh-wanna do guh-girlfriend and b-boyfr-hend things.”

“I thought we did do ‘girlfriend and boyfriend things.’” y/n’s left eyebrow started to raise.

“Th-there’s only s-s-so muh-many times a guh-guy can get himself o-off.” Bill immediately regretted the words that had just walked right out of his mouth and presented themselves to his girlfriend.

“Bill…” But that’s all y/n could seem to say. She sat there, confused. Bill would never say something like that. But he just did. The Bill y/n knew was kind, thoughtful, and patient. This wasn’t the Bill she knew.

“Do-do you tr-trust me?” Concern struck Bill’s face.

y/n was conflicted. “Trust doesn’t equal sex, Bill.” She drew her hand away from his and started mindlessly picking at the skin on her thumb. She got up from the bed and made her way to the door. Bill couldn’t quite read her expression as she did, but just her getting up was enough for him to tell she didn’t want to be around him.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow?”

y/n nodded before walking out.

But tomorrow was just as bad, or even worse, than that night.

y/n had spent the whole night ruminating over what Bill had said, and once he had arrived at her house, she was livid.

“What did you mean? Last night?” y/n began the car ride with a debriefing.

“I-it was s-stu-stupid, r-really,” Bill said nonchalantly.

“No.” y/n was relentless. “What did you mean?”

“I wuh-was ho-horny, y/n/n. B-but, god. It wuh-wouldn’t kuh-kill you t-to not be a pr-prude ff-or once i-in your luh-life.” y/n couldn’t believe what bullshit her boyfriend was spouting at her.

“Our fight continued until we got to the arcade,” y/n said, still sobbing from her previous encounter with Bill.

Richie was at a loss for words. All he could do was keep his eyes on the road and drive the two to their destination, which didn’t take long. Either y/n’s house was closer than he thought or just her company made ten minutes feel like three.

“Stop here,” y/n informed.

Richie slowed to a stop in front of a two-story house that looked like the others it was built next to. There was a bench swing that hung from the patio roof and a family of potted plants that resided in one corner of the porch. The house’s paint was dull and lifeless, resembling the rest of Derry.

“Thanks for taking me home.” y/n spoke again, drawing Richie from his thoughts of wondering what her room looked like.

“Ye-yeah. No problem-o.” He took in a deep breath and tapped his foot against the floor of his car.

y/n leaned over, as much as her seatbelt let her, and felt her lips graze his cheek.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Richie was quick to pull away. He stared at y/n with his big doe eyes and her glassy, soulful ones helped his case none. Isn’t this what he wanted?

“Really, Rich.” y/n then made sure to take off the seatbelt which was restraining her from doing anything further and scooted closer to him, ignoring how uncomfortable the gear stick felt as it dug into her thigh. “You’re sweet.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag but I do pride myself on being-“ y/n cut him off with a kiss to his lips this time. Richie sighed into her mouth. He knew it was wrong, but he just couldn’t help it.

God, Richie, cuh-can you even guh-get a girl to… to like yo-you back? The words he’d clung onto ever since that one Friday night made their way back to his frontal lobe. It must’ve been a month, yet the sentence stuck.

And Richie kissed back.

He swore he heard the faint sounds of fireworks clapping in the distance as his lips pushed into hers. Her soft, pouty lips that sent tingles down his back every time they connected with his. Richie’s right arm coiled itself around the small of y/n’s back and he found his left hand stroking her cheek. And just as fast as y/n planted one on him, she sprung back.

“You alright?” No, she’s not alright, dumbass. She just got into her first fight with her boyfriend and she’s coming to his best friend as a therapy session.

Much to Richie’s dismay, y/n nodded. “Your car’s uncomfortable.” Was all she said before opening the door to let herself out. Richie was about to curse himself out for letting her slip through his fingers and kissing his best friend’s girlfriend until he flinched at the sound of a knock on his car window.

It was y/n.

She opened the door for him like he had once done for her and waited for him to join her in the now moonlight. “Do you want to come in?”

“Christ.” Before then, Richie had never been so fast to take off a seatbelt.

The two hurried up the lawn and eventually her porch. Richie’s hand was squeezed by y/n’s smaller one. He reveled in the feeling of her holding onto him as if he were to float off if she didn’t. The two stood outside her front door like a shy kid, hesitant to ring the doorbell because it’s their first time over.

“Are your parents home?” Richie questioned, trying to get a peek through the windows even though they were closed off by the curtain.

“I don’t know,” y/n mumbled while she riffled through her mini purse. She was searching for the house key. “Finally!” She held up her key chain proudly before inserting the shiny, golden key striped with white nail polish into the lock. “Stay.” She looked to Richie like he was a puppy in training school.

y/n walked in reluctantly. Her hands messed with the strap of her purse. “Hello? Is anyone home?” She looked around the house for any sign of her parents. After a good few seconds, y/n turned to Richie with a slap happy grin on her face. “The coast is clear!”

Richie strolled in, acting as if he had all the time in the world. He made sure to shut the door behind him and y/n grabbed him by the collar as soon as he finished locking it. “My room is upstairs,” she said in between a needy kiss.

Richie didn’t need to be told twice as he ran up the wooden stairs with her. She surprised him with her lips on his once they got to the top. Her tongue swiped his bottom lip to which Richie granted access. y/n grew hungry with lust as her tongue danced with his. The only reason she broke apart from him was to better guide him to her bedroom. Surely, they couldn’t have sex in the hallway.

Richie was given no time to admire the yellow paint and magazine clippings that decorated y/n’s room. Instead, he was left to find y/n’s sweet spot and the lingering scent of her vanilla perfume as his lips roamed every crevice of her skin. He brought her down to her bed and he knows he’s never seen such beauty when her hair fans out against her sheets in every which way.

“Rich.” His name only leaves her lips when his aren’t on her. The same lips he’s tasted a thousand times already but would always be surprised at the taste the next time they collide. The same lips Bill’s claimed.

But this was Richie’s turn.

y/n’s hands dared reached for his dark roots, eliciting a moan from Richie that was downright animalistic.

“God, Rich. I didn’t even do anything,” y/n said, playing the innocent card.

“We can do something about that.” Richie offered. He licked the desperation from his lips as he waited for an answer.

“Okay.” y/n giggled and lifted her arms up. A sign for Richie to find the goddamn clue and undress her already.

Richie complied. He begged his excitable hands to stop shaking as he began to raise the fabric, revealing just how perfect y/n really was. Eagerly, his lips urged a kiss to hers once he got both their shirts off. It was quick and the start of his trail of kisses which lead down, down, down. His chapped lips tickled against the sensitive skin of her breast.

His mouth wrapped around the petal, causing y/n to squirm, entangling their legs together.

“Do you like that?” Richie teased. y/n moaned in response.

Taking the hint, Richie parted from her left nipple and began giving her right the same attention.

“Rich—” y/n was cut off by her own sigh of pleasure. “Do something.” Her voice was breathy and not at all stable. Richie grinned. He could listen to the noises she made any day.

Reluctantly, he broke his contact with her so he could undo his jeans. The sound of denim hitting the floor made y/n groan and she pulled him close again. They laid skin to skin. Richie was so close, y/n could tell he’d been smoking earlier.

Her arms encapsulated him and if this were any other girl under any other circumstance, Richie would’ve questioned it. But this was y/n.

He dipped down so he could connect his lips with hers and he could feel ten crescent shaped markings carving into the skin of his back. He didn’t have to be told twice to give y/n what he knew she wanted.

Richie slowly peeled off y/n’s skirt, the gradual pace left her yearning for him even more. He slid his index and middle fingers in at the same speed he took off the skirt.

y/n threw her head back at the touch. The whines escaping from her mouth egged Richie on even more.

Faster, faster, faster.

His thumb swept against her clit in circular motions. His strokes against her sensitive nerves drawing y/n closer to the edge. Her hips jerked up to feel closer to his touch. Her want had Richie chuckling. No girl would give him the time of day before her. Richie wanted to bask in the feeling forever.

“Do something, Rich.” y/n gasped and attached her lips to his neck. “Please.” Richie’s breath hitched in his throat at the request.

He hesitantly pulled his fingers from her heat, replacing them with him. Her folds slicked his length as she willingly let him stretch her walls.

“You’re so hot,” Richie whispered into y/n’s ear. He cringed at the words once he heard himself. “You feel so good.” The affirmations sent shivers down her spine. y/n fell into a state of bliss as his speed picked up. He hiked her legs up his waist and she ardently wrapped them around him.

His pace quickened. Richie felt like he was going to explode and the girl beneath him was close.

“Rich, Rich, Rich.” His name rolled off her tongue wonderfully and he would give anything to hear it til the end of time. Another cry fell from her beautifully parted lips. “Rich, I’m—”

“I know, doll face.” He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead while he pulled out. He took his thumb from previously, rubbing the bundle of nerves until she matched his high.

He collapsed onto the covers next to her as soon as they both finished. A final grunt escaped his throat while doing so.

The two were spread across y/n’s bed in silence for a while. y/n stared aimlessly at the ceiling; Richie doing the same. It had just then occurred to Richie that he fucked his best friend’s girlfriend. Guilt took the form of a teenage boy as he looked over at y/n. He still couldn’t help but think of how alluring she was. There was mascara smudged beneath her eyes. Sweat running down her brow bone. And her hair was a mess. He had more than enough energy to go at it again, but he knew better than that.

This was Richie’s cue to leave. He got up, throwing on his clothes. He didn’t even care that his shirt was on inside out. He just needed to get out of there.

He was almost out the door until a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Rich.” The same voice he’d give anything to hear for eternity.

“Yeah, baby?” Richie was about to curse himself out for calling her that if she hadn’t replied so soon.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” He could’ve creamed himself at the words. He could’ve ripped off his clothes again and taken her once more.

But Richie knew better than that.

He didn’t even look back; only nodded and strolled out the door as if nothing happened. Because as far as Bill was concerned, nothing happened.

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shereadsandwritesformelanin · 4 years

Text

The Baker And Her Actor: part III [The Beach Date!]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black Fem! Reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind and to be honest, neither can you.

Warnings: profanity, sexual content, angst, but overall fluff.

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy! If you have any requests feel free to share those!!

Previous Part(s) → (1) (2)

“Baby it’s you!”

“You’re the one I love.”

“You’re the one I need!”

“You’re the only one I see!”

“Come in baby it’s you!”

You prance around your kitchen singing your heart out to Beyoncé’s love on top. The past few days you and Chris had been communicating frequently.

It made you feel some type of way and put you in a chipper mood.

Since you had a day off you decided to treat yourself to a nice warm stack of pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs, and crispy (vegan) bacon.

A perfect way to start a weekend morning.

Flipping the last pancake and plating it you shuffled over to your living room, Haneli hot in persuit.

Today was a relaxation day, and you wanted to watch some quality movies.

Over the past few days of your texting spell with Chris he never much mentioned his work. I mean here and there he brought up but we barley discussed it as if he wasn’t proud.

So this morning you were gonna dedicate this to watching one of his many projects.

“Chris Evans.” You command into your remote.

Error.

“Chris Evans!” You shout

The screen showed many of his different films, all looked absolutely amazing but one stood out amoung them all.

The one where he held a little blonde girl on his shoulder and had a similar scruff on his face.

Gifted.

If the title didn’t grab you the plot definitely did.

“Play gifted.”

“Playing gifted.” Your smart television obeyed.

Just when you were going to trade it in.

You were just now finishing the movie and you were blown away.

You never thought about how much went into being an actor. Being able to convey those emotions onto the screen allowing the audience to feel them. Chris, he did just that.

Should you text him?

You decide to make the first move. Picking up your phone you click his contact, and begin typing.

Y/n: Goodmorning, I just saw one of your films. It was amazing :).

The Captain: Really, which one? Also goodmorning to you too!

Y/n: Gifted, and of course you’re amazing!

The Captain: Dont make me ink y/n. 💙

Another adorable Disney reference.

Before you could respond, your phone began to ring the contact image of Chris popping up on your screen.

Why was he calling you?!

I mean of course you all had text, but text can be motified unlike phone conversations.

Just answer dumb ass!

“Hello.” You sqeak

“Good morning.” Chris gumbles, it was obvious he’d just woken up by the rasp in his voice.

“H-how are you?” You stammer

“I’m okay just a bit tired.’ He yawns “better now that you’re on the phone.”

You were silence. Butting youre upper lip not sure what to say next.

His flirt game was strong and always caught you off gaurd.

“You there?” Chris questions

“Yes I’m here, sorry. I don’t want to keep you if your sleepy.”

“No it’s okay- I actually wanted to ask you something.” Chris reassures

“What is it?” You muse.

“Will you go on a date with me?’ Maybe tomorrow evening, if that works for you.” Chris queried.

You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat. This was the moment you’d been waiting for but was so terrified of its arrival.

When was the last time you even went on a date?

“Y/n, your making me nervous.”

“Sorry, i’d love to.” You trilled

“Great, pick your up at 7 tomorrow.!” Chris elated.

You could hear his pure excitement through the phone.

Youem were excited but nun the less nervous.

Shit what am I going to wear?

Saturday Evening - A.K.A “Date Night”

“Okay so you got this dress and I’m thinking we need to ensintuate your shoulders and colleebones as much as possible.” Kiara explains.

She rushes through Pinterest to find hair inspiration. Some your like some you aren’t quite fond of. You wanted to look your best for him.

“What about this one?” Kiara inquires showing you a beautiful and delicate up-do.

You take her phone to get a better look, zooming in on all the intricate details of the style. “I love it! It definitely screams first date vibes, should I even call it a date or a hang out.” You mumble.

“Girl gets some confidence.’ Kiara lectures. “He asked you on a date because you’re hot and his intrested take it with pride, he’ll love you, and if he doesn’t I do.” Planting a firm kiss on your temple.

“Thanks.” You coo.

Kiara begins to fumble in your hair, pinning it up and fluffing it’s often. “So where is he taking you?’ She quipped. “Somewhere nice I hope.”

“Well he hasn’t exactly told me.”

You feel her stop fiddling around in your hair. “So you don’t know?”

You nod your head.

“Hm, a man of mystery,That should be fun.” Kiara mused.

Shifting weight in your seat from the pressure of sitting for a while, your breath out. “I hope so.”

“Let’s find you something sexy to wear.” Kiara offered.

You both decide on a emerald green slip dress and a gold layered necklace, topping it off with a casual leather jacket.

“You look amazing girl, I need a picture.” Kiara praises.

You twirl around posing dramatically with various poses. Kiara snaps pictures hyping you up with each pose you perform.

“Come look at these.” Kiara hypes

Damn you do look good.

“Can you send these to me?”

Kiara nods her head.

Just when you were slipping on your shoes the doorbell rings. Your clock reads 7 o’clock.

Prompt.

You hurry toward the hallway mirror you had hanging on the wall, giving your hair one last fluff before opening the door.

The door swings open and there he was in all his glory.

He looked ravishing.

He wore a silver chain necklace, a black knitted sweater paired with heather grey saude pants and carmel shoes.

He held a bouquet of beautiful flower. Assortments of different pinks, red, and whites.

So he listens.

“Wow, you look stunning.” Chris praises

“You as well.’ I can take those, at least I hope they’re for me.” You giggle

“Oh yes, of course. Can I Uh set them up for you?” Chris ask rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes.”

You open up the doorway even more allowing him in. Guiding him toward your kitchen. A short trip considering you live in a small loft.

“Vases are up top.” You instruct

Chris nods, reaching up to grab one of your many vases.

When he stretched up his shirt untucked revealing a lower back tattoo.

God this man has tattoos as well.

You couldn’t help but stare not only was it intresting but it was really hot as well.

Chris peaks his head over his shoulder catching your gaze in his peripheral.

Shit.

“See something you like?” Chris teases a cocky smirk painted on his face.

You drop your head biting your bottom lip. You’d been caught and the man sure knows how to make you nervous.

I was starting to believe he did that on purpose.

Suddenly you notice Kiara hiding behind the slight wall that separated the kitchen and the living space.

“What are you doing?!” You mouth.

She smirks. Then begins to suggestively dry hump the air and make satisfied faces. “Introduce me.” She mouths back

You roll you eyes giving in, motioning for her to come over.

She smiles in victory, brushing down her outfit quickly.

“So y/n before you leave- oh I’m sorry I didn’t know you were here.” Kiara lies

From anyone who didn’t know who the actors was in the room, they’d think it was Kiara how well she put on an act.

You stare at her hoping she didn’t go overboard.

“Oh erm, hello.” Chris greeted

“We were just living, Kiki I love you and I see you later!”

You hoped Chris got the message, luckily he did.

He quickly dried his hands, shooting a small smile and wave to Kiara then followed you out your home.

“Which one your?” You ponder.

Beep beep.“That one.”

You watched the interior light of a black mid size audi light up.

Sometime you forget he’s rich. He definitely didn’t like to show, one of the many things you like about him.

“Shall we?” Chris says his arm out for you to interlopp.

You smile up at him gripping his arm, feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks.

The car ride was anything but queit. The two of you laughed and told embarrassing stories of your childhoods.

“Wait so you actually peed on a guy in your class in sixth grade?”

“True story, I couldn’t hold it!” You retort giggling

“Wow you beat me.’Chris says. “we are almost there it’s just up this way, one of my favorite things to do.”

“So I get to go to a special place?”

“Must mean something, right.” Chris stated, giving you those damn eyes again.

The way he stared at you with so much sencerity made you crave him even more. He was passionate you could tell.

“Okay no peaking.” Chris instructs pilling you out of the car shutting the door after you.

“Okay.” You obeyed.

Chris walked you through a seemingly long and tangled path. His big hands covering your ears the whole time.

Eventually he stopped guiding you and removed his hands.

“Is it safe to open?” You asked softly

“Yes you can open now, even though definitely saw you peaking.” Chris teased

“I was not!” You bicker like a child

Finally you allow your eyes to flutter open. Immediately your jaw drops at what you saw before you.

It was the Boston harborwalk, but lit up. The place looked so alive.

There was everything. Fun games, food, and even a Ferris wheel.

“Chris this is amazing.’ You gasp in excitement. “It’s- it’s beautiful I - can we go now!”

“I figured you’d love it, and yes let’s get going.” Chris spoke holding his hand out for your reach.

You comply shyly intertwining you tiny fingers with his. The heat rising to your cheeks, and the butterflies bubbling in your pit again.

You finally reach the boardwalk. Enamored by all the lights and fun that surrounds you can’t help but bounce from booth to booth like a young child on Christmas Day.

“Slow down dont wanna have to put a lease on you.” Chris pesteres

You playfully slap his chest with the back of your hand.

God he was muscular and firm.

Nope not going there y/n stop.

“Oh hush, this is fun!’ You piped. “What should we do next?”

“I was thinking the Ferris wheel?” Chris suggested.

Chris’s Point Of View:

The night wasn’t even close together and it was already going so well.

Y/n was perfect, practically an angel.

I could tell she was breaking out shell, showing more of her personality she’d been so afraid to show me.

It was great. I loved how excited she got about the smallest things, how she was a good sport and didn’t fuss over loosing games.

Through all my relationships I’ve craved to have someone like y/n and here she was and she was so great.

Gosh get a grip meatball can’t be falling in love on date one.

Finally we get up to the top of the Ferris wheel, stopping so we could get a great view of Boston.

I watched as you leaned over on the side just enough not to tip over but to get a good view.

How your y/c eyes lit up just like the city below us, the curls that rested on your forehead dancing in the wind.

Perfect.

I pull out my phone opening the camera settings.

I snap a quick photo of you. You just looked so peaceful.

Shit my flash!

My eyes go wide, embarrassed that I’d just been acting like a certified creep ten seconds ago.

She turns to face me comfusion readable on her face.

“Um y/n I’m sorry I- I just thought you looked beautiful.” I stammered.

She slips her tiny hand into mine giving me a small smile.

“Can I at least see it.” She asks

We leave the carnvial to go to another beautiful location I wanted to show y/n.

This could quite literally brighten her night.

“It’s just this way.” I instruct holding her hand helping her down the pathway to the beach.

“Are you taking me somewhere to kill me.” She jokes

“Sweetheart if I wanted to kill you, it would have already been done.”

I hear her let out small chuckle underneath her breath.

She trusted me.

“We’re here.” I announce

Her eyebrows raise as she looks around observing nothing but a bland beach.“We’re where?” She ponders

I pick up a small rock tossing it in my hand. “Okay now you’re scaring me.” She says slowly backing away.

“Don’t be.”

With that I threw the rock down on the sand allowing the bioluminescent plankton to give off their blue hue.

I hear the fimaliar gasp escape y/n’s lips as she’d done all night in excitement.

“Chris! What is this?”she quipped

“Bioluminescent planktons, I discovered these a while back when I was having a not good day and needed a walk. Cheered me up immediately.” I explain

Walking toward my side her eyes never leave the ground. “Wow this is astonishing.” She states

“You wanna see something else?” I ask a devient smirk planted on my face.

“You’re just full of surprises.”

“You have no idea.” I returned.

I grab her hand leading her over to the shoreline. “Take off your shoes.” I instruct

She does just that waiting for further instruction.

“You see this.” I say pointing down to the water.

“See what?”

“This!” I smirk lightly splashing her with water

Please be into it.

I watched as she stood there for a moment, mouth agape wiping the salt water off her face.

My heartbeat sped up hoping she wouldn’t curse me out and storm off.

“Oh really that’s what you wanna do?” She said smirking peeling her leather jacket off.

“Yeah that’s what I wanna do.” I mock rolling my arm and pants legs up.

“Fine but I was I raised off avatar and have a strong belief I’m a waterbender.” She jokes

Finally she splashes me immediately damping my sweater.

I’m impressed that she was able to get the much water on my with her small hands.

I attempt to return the favor but she runs away giggling.

I chase after her effortlessly catching up, scooping her in my arms bridle style.

“Stop, stop I’m sorry put me down.” She stammers laughing loudly.

“Nope only soaking you will do for forgiveness.” I say carrying her to the spot with our belongings.

“But Chris I just had wash day.” She pouts

“Wash day?” I question.

“You’re too cute, and caucasian.” She replied

“Cute huh?” I tease.

There she goes again hanging her head low and avoiding eye contact, she was so adorable.

“You know what I want.” I stays breaking the silence

“What’s that?”

“Ice cream.” I say

Finally we pull up at an ice cream parlor that looks like it was plucked straight out of the fifties.

I notice you began to shiver. It was late at night and the cool Boston breeze was now turning into a chilling freeze.

Should I do it? Will she be comfortable?

Making sure not to startle her, I cautiously wrap my arm around her shoulders pulling her into me, hopping to add some type of warmth to her body.

She just smiles up at me leaning her head into my shoulder. She fit into my side like a puzzle. I let the tropical sent of her hair infuse my lungs.

God she smelt great.

We get up to the glass display of ice cream. It was so colorful with so many different assortments of flavors I didn’t know which one to pick.

You were bent over peaking through the glass. Squinting trying to decide which ice cream flavor to choose from.

“Decided yet?” I ask

“I think so, can I have the chunky monkey suprise.” She asks the waitress.

The waitress nods grabbing a warm scooper for dig out your flavor. “What about you. what’s your take?” She asks me retrieving her ice cream.

“I think I’ll have what your having.”

“Good choice.” She playfully sasses

I watch her walk over to grab us a a few napkins and extra spoons.

Thoughtful.

“Sir.” The cashier says holding my ice cream for me. “Sorry, how much?” I ask.

“It’ll be $5.78.” The cashier resports.

I dig into my wallet pulling out one of my many cards handing it over to the cashier.

I felt your brown eyes burning into me, watching me.

I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing that you were or a bad thing that you were.

“Let’s go, it late and im sure you work tomorrow.”

“Yes I do.” She mutters almost pouting.

We walk to my car. Reaching it I press the unlock butting watching the inside light up.

[CLICK FOR Part III CONTINUED HERE!]

Tag List:

@toniilaney

44 notes · View notes

kirishibi · 4 years

Note

Hi so my birthday is kind of soon and because of quarantine we kind of have to “skip” it for the time being, so could I request Shinso, Kaminari, Bakugou, and Kirishima fluff? Sorry if it’s a lot please skip this if you don’t was to do it, love your writing m ♥️♥️♥️

Pairings: Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader, Kaminari Denki x Reader, Kirishima Ejirou x Reader, Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Todoroki Shoto x Reader

a/n: okay first of all I just wanna say i'm so sorry this took a while to get out. having to ‘skip’ your birthday is unfortunate to say the least, but i hope your day is/was everything you could have asked for and more! here’s some of the boys celebrating with you while in quarantine - happy birthday lovely!

Shinsou Hitoshi

Even without a pandemic, Shinsou wouldn’t be the type to throw a large celebration

Instead, he prefers to make your day special in another way

The day goes by relatively normally, and for a moment you wonder if your characteristically stoic partner has anything planned

Around sunset, though, he asks if you would mind waiting in your bedroom for a little while while he sets up your present

“You didn’t think I had nothing planned, did you? Have I set expectations that low?” He questions with a chuckle

You do as he asks, busying yourself in your room until your surprise is ready

After 20 minutes or so he knocks on the door, signaling for you to come out

What you find, stepping into your common room, brings tears to your eyes

Framed photos of your dates, holidays, and some lazy nights in together decorate every surface of your shared apartment

Carefully placed, lit candles dot the areas surrounding your pictures, illuminating the room with a soft glow

He was very careful not to light too many and set off your fire alarm

“These are all of my favorite memories.” He begins, “To me, it never matters what we’re doing or where we’re going. As long as you’re by my side, I’m the happiest man in the world.”

He presents you with a carefully wrapped box

Inside sits a ring

You realize it matches the one already on his finger

“Now, I’m not asking you to marry me just yet, but want us to have something that ties us together after all of this is over. That way no matter how far my work takes me, we’re always close in some way. I love you, (Y/n), happy birthday.”

Kaminari Denki

Kaminari is… overwhelmed to say the least

He’s never been great at planning, and especially not planning birthday celebrations for the person he loves most in the world

Due to this, he decides to enlist a little help to make the day perfect

He orders in your favorite restaurant for dinner, along with your favorite flowers

He takes extra care to transfer your meal over onto a fancy plate to make it look extra special

He sets the flowers in an ornate vase the same color as your eyes

“I know it’s not much,” He nervously chuckles, rubbing the back on his neck with one hand “But I’ve got one more surprise. Promise!”

After you both finish eating, he ushers you over to your computer

With a few clicks, you’re connected to a video call

Slowly, all of your closest friends begin to pour into the call, joyous exclamations of “Happy birthday, (Y/n)!” echoing throughout the room

Everyone from Class A is there, along with a few friendly faces from B

Kaminari slips away for a moment, reentering the room with a handful of confetti poppers

Everyone on the call readies one of their own

Yes, he shipped confetti poppers to all of your friends in preparation for today

Everyone begins to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you, though due to lag, the words don’t sync up perfectly and the song is a bit off-tune

At the end of the song, confetti showers the webcams of all of your closest friends, and Kaminari pops the final container, covering you with multicolored streamers

With a shy kiss on your cheek, he whispers in your ear through the sounds of your peers laughing and chatting amongst themselves, “Sorry it’s not much, but happy birthday. Love ya, cutie”

Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou sees your birthday as more of a challenge than anything else

This is going to be the best goddamn birthday you’ve ever had. No ifs, ands, or buts about it

No way is he going to order in food from some lame ass restaurant, either

They can’t make your favorite dish half as well as he can, how dare you even entertain that thought

You awake to a large tray of extra fluffy pancakes, eggs, and sauteed vegetables, accompanied by a side of tea and small cup of warm syrup for your pancakes if desired

When you thank him, he waves a dismissive hand

“Shaddup. What, did you think I wouldn’t treat my girl to some breakfast in bed? What kinda man do ya think I am, huh?”

Lunch goes much the same, with him cooking a high quality, but lighter meal for you in preparation for dinner

You spend the day watching your favorite shows together and chatting

For dinner, he pulls out all the stops

Sets up a table on your apartment’s balcony with white table cloth, red roses, and tea candles lining the railing

The only food he allows to be delivered is your birthday cake at the end of the night

He claims he couldn’t be bothered to cook yet another thing for you

Truthfully, he had never baked a cake before and just didn’t want to screw it up

Refuses to sing for you at first

If you say please enough times, though, he will sing a very off-tune ‘Happy Birthday’

Don't you dare giggle, because he will throw the entire cake off the balcony

As you blow out your candles, he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you into a kiss

“I fucking love ya, (Y/n). Happy birthday or whatever.”

Kirishima Ejirou

Like Bakugou, he decides to make you breakfast in bed

Lacking his best friend’s culinary skills, however, crispy waffles with a side of fresh fruit is the best he can do

When you thank him, he has to stop from crying happy tears

Kirishima feels the worst out of all of them that you have to spend your birthday in quarantine

So, any signs of appreciation for his efforts from you will hit him 10x harder

“You’re my baby, of course I want to give you the birthday of your dreams! I’d give the moon if I could!”

All he wants is to make your day special

He orders your favorite restaurant for dinner, fully aware that if he tried to cook by himself he’d burn the kitchen down along with your meal

After dinner, he pulls two boxes of cake mix from their hiding spot under your kitchen sink

“I wanted us to make your cake together. You know, to make it extra special”

He presents you with matching red aprons

You will definitely want to wear yours because this boy is a messy baker

When your cake is finished baking and fully iced, he makes you pose in front of it for a picture

He posts it to every social media profile he has because “The cake looks almost as you do - of course I gotta brag to our friends!”

After enjoying a slice of your cake, which turned out surprisingly well, he ruffles your hair with a gentle hand.

“Happy birthday, babe! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the dishes”

Todoroki Shoto

Endeavor’s credit card comes in very handy in planning your birthday

Sure, Shoto could have used his own card, but spiting his father is just too much fun

You enter your living room to a large pile of presents

The pile is about half your height, stretching nearly high enough to reach your chest

Shoto is aware you aren’t a shallow person, nor are you one to put so much weight on material possessions, but he didn’t know what else to do

The pure baby doesn’t quite understand yet how to express his love for you without the help of gifts and expensive gestures

It takes nearly two hours to unwrap all of them, and by the end you’re both fairly exhausted

For dinner, Shoto cooks you the meal his mom always used to make for him on his birthday

“Birthdays were…” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully “hard. Mom’s cooking always made them better. I know today isn’t everything you hoped it would be, so I thought maybe a good meal would help” he says with an unsure smile

You help him cook, though he protests, instead urging you to relax and enjoy your day

He doesn't quite understand that enjoying your day means spending it by his side

Your meal is delicious, the thought behind it only serving to make the food taste better

After all of the dishes are washed and set out to dry, he ushers you to the sofa, wrapping you both up in your favorite fluffy blanket.

For the grand finale, he allows you to put on any movie you’d like

He says you can even play that cheesy romcom you’d been begging for him to watch with you

“We can do or watch whatever you want. I just want to make you happy. You make everything in my life better, (Y/n), I just want to do the same for you.”

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behbuh · 3 years

Note

ive been seeing your gifs on my tl lately, and i just wanted to stop by and tell you how nice they look. well done! im having a really hard time getting really high quality looking gifs. do you have any tips?

oh thank you!! 😣❤❤ sometimes i get frustrated with how they look and post em anyway bc i figure i can’t do any better so i’m glad ppl find them ok haha

and i use 1080p vids if i can help it bc, as everyone can tell by now, i like making big ass gifs so i need em to be crispy as possible. once i crop em, and convert them to smart filters i smart sharpen them and then start my coloring process. i don’t really have too many tips bc i just learned by watching vids and figuring things out on my own, sometimes by accident 😅

sorry if i’m not much help but i only just started getting better at it these past few months lol

#i'm sure there are better tumblr users out there that can get help you out with tutorials tho!

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moonstruckbucky · 5 years

Text

Fool for You [one-shot]

Summary: You want Bucky, but Bucky wants somebody else.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Lots of angst. Some self-deprecating thoughts, insecurity. Language because my potty mouth. Bucky’s a dick. Not a happy ending. You’ve been warned.

Notes: Inspired by Linger by the Cranberries, but keep in mind it’s not a song fic! I’ve been in such a writing funk lately. I hope this doesn’t totally suck. Enjoy! x

She’s funny. Her joke has Sam wheezing, Steve snorting, and Bucky chuckling. Even Nat has quirked a small grin. They’re so busy recovering their breath that no one sees the absolutely moon-eyed look Bucky directs at her.

Nobody but you.

It’s hard to ignore the rising bitterness in your throat as you sit on the couch, once ensconced in your novel until Sam began hooting like a broken trumpet, a result of her well-timed joke. Of course she’s funny. She has just about everything else going for her, including Widow’s respect, which is a national treasure all on its own.

She isn’t an Avenger, but she may as well be since she’s in the tower so much. It makes your stomach curdle. The super soldier at her side curls a loving arm around her shoulders, drops a kiss onto her hair, and the gesture has her beaming.

And Bucky looks about the same way you feel.

Because Bucky had to go and catch feelings for his best friend’s girl.

He thinks no one knows, but you’re his best friend. Of course you know. You know because he looks at her the same way you do him. You scoff quietly.

Cliches suck.

A weight drops onto the couch cushion beside you.

Careful, Y/N. Green isn’t really your color.

Wanda. Normally you take issue with the fact that Wanda sometimes implants herself in your head, but other times, like now, you’re thankful for it. Explaining it to anyone else makes shame bubble up in your gut.

You give Wanda a single, meaningful glance before your gaze is ultimately drawn back over your shoulder. She, Cassandra, is in the middle of telling a story that has everyone’s rapt attention, Steve looking down at her fondly while it goes unnoticed that Bucky is doing the same. You’re not sure if he realizes he’s doing it, but considering he’s doing it in front of Widow tells you he isn’t.

A quick glance at Nat shows her eyes bouncing between Bucky and Cassandra. Ah, so it wasn’t missed by the scarily-observant super spy. She catches your eye next, an entire conversation being wordlessly spoken. You avert your gaze with a sigh and miss the quizzical little head tilt Nat gives.

When Cassandra’s laughter bubbles up again, you can’t stand it anymore. Wanda frowns up at you as you stand, finger tucked into your book to save your place. You leave the room, wincing as the laughter picks up again.

Inside the confines of your room, you abandon your book to sit on the floor at the foot of your bed, your back against the mattress and box spring. You never meant to be part of probably the stupidest cliche to ever exist, yet here you are. And like that stupid cliche, you have no idea how it even happened.

Somewhere along the path of Bucky’s re-self-discovery, you fell for the man he’d become. Not the Soldier, not the smooth talking ladies’ man of the 40s, but someone somewhere in between. More self-assured than he’s ever been, though not without his faults or his setbacks. Really, though, how could you not have seen this coming?

You sigh into the dark, knees propped up and elbows resting upon them so you can drop your head into your hands. It’s stupid—pathetic, really—how your mind automatically begins to compare you to Cassandra, regardless of the fact that she’s taken. It’s more so because she has Bucky’s full attention, that moon-eyed look solely meant for her that you so wish was directed at you.

You’re a teammate, his close friend, and it seems that’s all you’ll ever be to him. It hurts, coming to that conclusion, knowing you’re one of those girls unfortunately and unfairly destined to experience unrequited love. You laugh mirthlessly to yourself and shake your head, tangle your fingers in your hair and tug, just a little, just enough to ground you before your mind sucks you into a maelstrom of self-pity.

You know sooner or later you’ll have to come clean to Nat, if the perceptive redhead hasn’t already put it together. Wanda is your closest friend aside from Bucky, but Natasha’s scary wisdom beyond her years comes in handy, especially in the tough situations.

You can’t imagine a situation any tougher than this.

So it comes as no surprise as, the next morning, the Black Widow corners you in the kitchen. You don’t bother to hide; stubbornness is one of Nat’s lesser, but more prominent, qualities, and she’s patient as all get out. Instead, you lead her back to your bedroom and spill. She doesn’t interrupt, only listens intently with her head tilted in that feline manner she has.

“Well, that’s quite a predicament,” she notes when you finish. Grumbling unintelligibly, you suck down your coffee. She leans back on her hands beside you. “So I take it there is zero chance of you talking to Bucky about it?”

“Why would I?” you retort, but Nat isn’t offended. “The only thing that’ll accomplish is ensuring our friendship is toast. Burnt as fuck, crispy toast. Plus, I’m not really in the mood to be humiliated when he says he doesn’t return my feelings.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t?”

“Uh, hello, I know you of all people didn’t miss the absolute head-over-heels look he gave her yesterday.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like he’s going to act on that. Steve would pummel him, and it would probably end their friendship.”

“Regardless, I’m not having that conversation with him. I’m just gonna...keep a lid on it and act as if nothing’s off.”

Nat scoffs and you shoot her a look. “Honey, even if I wasn’t me I wouldn’t miss the looks you give him when someone’s not looking.”

You open your mouth and then promptly shut it. Releasing a sigh, you rub your temples. “Okay, so then what do I do? If I pull away he’s going to know something’s up. He’s far too much like you.”

Nat, for once, is rendered clueless on how to proceed. Then, with an actual physical shake of her body, she says, “Okay, so you pretty much have three options. Option one, continue as normal, hide your feelings, be his best friend, and ultimately, probably spontaneously combust because you’re keeping them down instead of letting them out. Option two, tell him, risk the chance that your friendship might change or Bucky will decide to pull his head out of his ass and not make moon-eyes at a taken woman, thus eventually falling in love with you and the two of you live happily ever after. Option three, you start dating. Outside the Tower. Run the risk that you’ll find someone who completes you instead of pining for a guy who might not.”

“That’s it, huh?” you deadpan. Truthfully, none of those options sounds appealing, but more than likely you’re going for option one.

Option one, it turns out, is a goddamn pain in the ass to stick to. In order to throw off Nat’s, and even Sam’s, suspicions that he’s into his best friend’s girl, Bucky has latched himself onto you. Normally, this would be, well, normal. Now? It’s downright impossible to bite your tongue from telling him what’s been cooking up in your head, damn near inconceivable to not lean into him when he sits a little closer to you at movie night.

The little niggling feeling in the back of your head tells you he has tricks up his sleeve, but you brush it off for now and bask in the slightly spice scent of his cologne.

Some weeks later, you’re faring no better. It’s growing even more difficult to bottle your feelings up and stow them in the back of your mind, especially when Bucky’s clinginess seems to multiply tenfold. You aren’t dumb, or naive for that matter, when you realize the only time he’s right on top of you is when Steve and Cassandra are present. When you first put it together, no words in the English dictionary are sufficient enough to describe the painful pang in your heart.

Yet you let it continue.

Nat criticizes you more than once, as does Wanda (who’s admittedly a bit gentler with her approach, but Nat was never one for beating around a bush). You promise both of them you’ll confront him soon, draw a line in the sand that he can’t use you to make his best friend’s girl jealous.

Plus, his plan isn’t working anyways. Cassandra remains both in the dark and unaffected by what he’s doing, and she merely smiles genuinely when she notices Bucky’s arm around your shoulder or waist. As soon as she and Steve leave the room, his arm drops and his shoulders droop. It makes you angry, and it’s why you suddenly begin to dodge his advances. You stop playing along to his chagrin and befuddlement, and the fact that he’s even confused by your refusal to go along with it reignites your ire.

How dare he abuse your friendship, wordlessly expect you to go along with a pointless attempt to make Cassandra jealous? It’s callous and a little cruel of him; you thought you were friends. Friends didn’t treat each other like toys or tools to just use at one’s convenience. Even more than that, with Bucky’s sudden attention on you all the time, as superficial as it is, it only intensifies your feelings for him—both the positive and the negative.

On the one hand, a large, secret part of you revels in being pressed up against him so often, absorbing his warmth and being able to pretend, for just a little while, that his feelings for you aren’t a scheme, that they’re genuine. The smaller, more logical part of you knows you can’t let this continue, and it finally all comes to a head when Bucky asks of you something so unbelievably selfish that you snap.

“I’m sorry, you want to what?” you ask, turning your ear to him as if you hadn’t heard him correctly.

“We should sleep together,” he repeats with a careless shrug. He seems surprised when your gaze hardens and ignites all at once.

“Why? So you can continue your pointless scheme of trying to make Cassandra jealous? Is that why?” you accuse icily. Bucky takes a small step back, mouth opening and closing similar to a fish as he searches for something to say. You beat him to it. “No, Bucky, I won’t sleep with you to go along with your stupid fucking plan of pursuing a taken woman, much less the woman who’s dating your best fucking friend. I’m not stupid; I know what you’ve been doing, and I can’t even believe you would abuse our friendship like that, use me the way you have, without a second thought. Do my feelings mean absolutely nothing to you? Do you know how hard it’s been coming to grips with the fact that, while I struggle with my feelings, for you, you only see me as something to use, something to exploit?”

Bucky’s face continues to fall as you rant, unleashing every pent up thought and emotion. Your voice covers a range of emotion—anger, sadness, hurt—all in a matter of seconds that he nearly has whiplash. Bucky’s always had a strong poker face, but even he can’t hide the feelings rolling through him. The one he settles on is shame. Good.

“You...you have feelings for me?” he questions, quiet and meek.

You scoff. “Right now, I really wish I fucking didn’t. You aren’t who I thought you were, Bucky. Not even close. I was willing to let it go that you wouldn’t feel the same way for me, I’ve accepted that. What I won’t accept is being used as if our friendship means absolute shit to you.”

“No, honey, that’s not—” He stops when you shake your head, teeth clenched tightly and jaw wobbling as you fight to hold back your tears of hurt and heartbreak.

“It was what you were doing, Bucky, and I want no part of it. In fact, I think it’s better you and I don’t speak.”

Bucky looks crestfallen, regret and agony and the will to plead for your forgiveness swimming in his eyes. Bucky’s poker face was ace, but his eyes gave him away and you’d become an expert at reading them. Even if it’s not what he’d intended when he began this hairbrained plan, it’s what happened, and you had been caught in the crossfire.

“Ever?” he asks, a sob ripping from his throat while those pale eyes brim with tears. You glance away for a moment, but then you bravely meet his gaze, holding it.

“Ever,” you confirm. Your face remains stoic but inside your chest your heart splinters and cracks. It’s so painful to break off your most treasured friendship, but Bucky had taken advantage of you, whether or not he had been aware of your feelings. You voice this aloud. “I can accept you not returning my feelings, but I can’t forgive you for taking advantage of me. That’s not what friends do. Goodbye Bucky.”

The door closes softly in his face and Bucky leans his head against the wood, face crumbling as he lets himself go. How could he have been so stupid?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky angst

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notstars-doors · 6 years

Note

If you are still in a Drabble/prompts mood, can you do this one? If you want? “Wait, are you flirting with me?” “I have been for the last three years, but thanks for noticing” for Birdflash? Ps.: I love your writing a lot!

Well this has been in my inbox for forever. I’m so sorry to keep you waiting this long, but I had a lot of fun with this prompt and wanted it to be good, so it came out very long.

Hope it was worth the wait!

~~~~~

Wally sits down on his beach towel, stretching out under hisumbrella. Artemis might rag on him for it, acting like a 17thcentury lady or something, but he’s not taking any chances. Sure, he might likethe sun, but the sun does not likehim. Any extra time under it’s rays would leave him with some lobster-likequalities that he really doesn’t want to deal with. So, it’s either two layersof sunscreen and a large umbrella, or a red nose and a million more frecklesthan he already has.

He’ll take the umbrella and ridicule, any day.

“KF!”

Wally lifts his head to find the source of the voice,grinning when he sees Robin jogging over towards him. He’s got his sunglasseson, as per usual, and a towel hung around his neck.

“Rob!” Wally raises a hand in greeting, bumping their fiststogether when Robin gets close enough. “Glad you could make it!”

“You kidding?” He grins, flinging his towel flat onto thesand beside Wally’s and dropping down to sit next to him. “A day like this?Wouldn’t miss it.”

Robin’s probably been in the sun for all of fifteen minutesfrom the trek down from the mountain to the beach, but his skin is alreadyglowing a darker shade of brown. His black hair is shaggy and hanging in hiscovered eyes, looking a little windswept.

“You haven’t missed much.” Wally chuckles, shifting to laydown on his own towel. “Zatanna tried to start a splash-match with Conner. Thatdidn’t end well.”

“Of course not.”

“Artemis is hellbent on kicking some ass at volleyball, butI think we’re all a little tentativeabout that.”

Dick chuckles, running a hand through his messy hair. “Ithink I could take her.”

“You’re probably the only one who could- or would.” Wallysnorts. He reaches into his beach bag to pull out some potato chips, rippingopen the plastic and delving inside. After inhaling a few handfuls, he tiltsthe bag towards his friend.

Dick cocks an eyebrow. “You? Sharing?”

Wally rolls his eyes. “I’m in a giving mood. Besides, it’syou.”

Dick blinks, his lips pursing in thought for a moment beforereaching into the bag and taking his own handful of chips. “So, umbrella time?”

Wally shrugs. “Yeah, gettin’ a little toasty.”

“How long you been out here?”

“Long enough. I can already feel myself gettin’ crispy, Idon’t need weird patchy freckles and a red face.”

Dick frowns. “Weird and patchy?”

“Yeah,” Wally squints against the bright light as he looksup at his friend. “They clump together when I’m in the sun too long, they goblotchy and weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird, I like your freckles.”

Wally rolls his eyes. “You’re my best friend, you have tosay that.”

Dick’s frown gets deeper, and he shakes his head. “Nottrue.”

“That you’re my best friend?”

“That I have to say that.”

Wally snickers, raising an arm to tuck his hand under hishead. “Yeah, right.”

“I’d tell you if you were ugly.”

“Thanks.”

“No really, I’d be brutally honest. You’re lucky you’recute.”

Wally blinks at that, staring up at the inside of hisumbrella. Did he hear that right?

Before he can question it, something blots out the sun abovethem and Wally’s too thrown from the ‘cute’ comment to notice the redvolleyball soaring towards him. He doesn’t react fast enough, and it hits himsquare in the face.

“Heads up!”

He’s laying flat on his back, groaning behind both handsclasped over his face. Dick is wheezing next to him, clutching his stomach fromlaughing so hard. Wally glares at him over his knuckles, watching the other boyrolling in the sand, overtaken with giggles.

Oh, look at that. Blood.

“Ah - little too late there, Miss M!” Wally calls out, hisvoice distorted from pinching his nose to stop the blood flow. He moves to tilthis head back but feels something on the back of his neck, pushing him forward.

“Nope, don’t do that.” It’s Dick, who’s still laughing, butit’s more subdued now. He’s kneeling next to him, holding out a small towelwith one hand and the other still propping Wally’s head forward. “You tilt backand the blood will just drain down the back of your throat.”

“Gross.” Wally mutters. He takes the towel from his friendand holds it under his nose.

“Sorry Wally!” M’gann floats over, her expressionsympathetic as she lands next to them, kneeling in front of the other red head.“Artemis is a little… enthusiastic, about volleyball…”

“C’mon, Meg! Toss it back!”

A familiar husky voice calls out from across the beach.Wally peaks around Robin’s side to see Artemis standing at the edge of thevolleyball court, hands on her hips. He flips her the bird, a gesture sheresponds to by sticking her tongue out.

“Fuck you, Arty!”

“No thanks.”

“You just wait, I’m gonna-”

“What, Kid Klutz? You gonna bleed on me?”

“Kid Kl-? You hit mein the face with a volleyball!”

“You hit my volleyball with your face.”

“That’s it-!”

Wally lunges forward to get to his feet but finds a firmhand planted against his chest holding him in place.

“Whoa! Hit the brakes, KF.” Dick shakes his head, stillchuckling.

“She-!”

“Is gonna hand you your ass the second you step on thatcourt. Don’t do that to yourself, dude, you’re already bleeding.”

“It’s fine, it’s already healing.”

“And it’s gonna heal wrongif you don’t let me set it.” Dick rolls his eyes. “Why don’t we go inside,before you have a crooked nose and awounded ego.”

“Too late for that.”

They both glance up to see M’gann clasping both hands overher mouth, eyes wide in disbelief at her own words. Dick bursts out laughingagain, clutching Wally’s shoulder for support while the ginger gives her anincredulous look.

“Wow. Thanks Meg.”

“Sorry Wally!” She squeaks, snatching up the volleyball fromwhere it sits next to him in the sand and turning to fly back to the court.“Feel better!”

Wally scowls, then grimaces in discomfort as the motionshifts his already healing nose. Dick straightens up, still gasping for breaththrough his giggles, and claps him on the back gently.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Fine…”

The trek back up to the Cave takes longer than Wally wouldlike, but he’s used to walking alongside his oh-so-human best friend, so hedoesn’t mind as much. By the time they get inside, he can already tell hisbones have mended themselves, but probably not in any way that’s flattering.

“Okay,” Wally mumbles as they enter the med bay, droppingthe towel from his face and turning to Dick. “What’s the damage?”

Dick clamps his lips together, and Wally can tell he’strying not to laugh all over again.

“It needs re-breaking, doesn’t it?”

“I mean…”

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have to.”

“Does it look stupid?”

“It’s not… the worst?”

“Do it.”

“Walls-“

“Just do it, Dick.” Wally gestures to his whole face. “Thisis the money maker.”

Dick scoffs, shoving him playfully towards the stretcherthat’s sitting against the wall. Wally complies and hops up onto the stiffcushion, gripping the metal frame tightly as he braces himself for what’scoming. Dick hands him a towel to place between his teeth, and Wally takes ashallow breath before doing so, closing his eyes as he feels Dick’s hands cometo rest on his face.

“NMMF-! AH FUCK!”

Dick grips his shoulders as Wally keels forward, who’s handsraise up to cover his aching nose.

“Stop squirming!”

“Son of a bitch!”

“You did not complain this much when you first got hit.”

“I had somewhere else to direct the- goddammit, that hurt.”

“Stop touching it, let me set it for you.”

Wally huffs, eventually complying and placing the towel backin his mouth as Dick aligns his nose. Using any kind of anaesthetic would bepointless, as it would be burnt out of his system too fast to have any effect,so Wally just bears the pain and grits his teeth against the towel. Dick placessome medical tape over the break, his touch as light as it can be while tryingto set the bone correctly.

Dick pulls back to check his work, then nods his approval.“There. Was that so hard?”

“Mmmf..”

“You can take that out of yourmouth now, idiot.”

Wally spits out the towel and throws it at his friend. “Yes,it was that bad.”

Dick swats the it away, somehow managing to get it into thebiohazard bin without even trying. “You asked me to!”

“Still hurt.”

“Oh, quit complaining. Let me clean you up, you’re stillcovered in blood.”

Dick douses a fresh towel in some water and grabs Wally’schin, tilting his head this way and that to wipe away the dried blood. He’sgentle, but firm, his brows furrowed in concentration. By the time he’sfinished, Wally can feel his nose throbbing less and less as the bone healsproperly. He reaches up to rip off the medical tape, wincing as the adhesivepulls at his skin, and wiggles his nose gently to test it.

“Alright, how’s it look now?” Wally grins, hands on his hipsand chin tilted up as if to say, ‘check me out!’

Dick glances up from the sink, eyes flickering over Wally’sface for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smallsmile. “Good.”

“As per usual.” Wallyhops off the table, zipping over to his friend and latching onto him in a hugfrom behind. “Thanks for the patch job, Doc!”

Dick turns in Wally’s arms – surprising him – and smirks,leaning back against the edge of the sink. “Gotta keep that pretty face intact,right?”

Wally blinks. “Uh. Right.”

Dick’s glasses are sitting on top of his head, as he neededthem out of the way in order to fix Wally’s nose. They’re pushing his bangs outof his face, revealing clear blue eyes shining with mischief in a way that onlyWally ever gets to see. It’s… cute?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Wally blinks again. “Uh- like what?”

“Like I’ve got something on my face.”

“I’m not?”

“Well you’re looking at me weird.”

“No, I’m not!”

Dick grins, crossing his arms. “Do you just like looking atmy face?”

“No-“

“So, you don’t like my face?”

“What?” Wally shakes his head, wondering how on earth theygot onto this topic. “No! I mean- sure? Wait, why would I-?”

“God, you’re such an idiot.” Dick rolls his eyes, his chestshaking with quiet laughter. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Wally frowns, only nownoticing that Dick is still in his arms. Which isn’t weird. Is it? “Wait hangon-”

“There it is…”

“-are you flirtingwith me right now?”

Dick plucks his shades off the top of his head, settlingthem back on the bridge of his nose and smiling at Wally in a way that makeshis chest flutter. “I mean, I have been for the last three years, but thanksfor finally noticing.”

“You- what?”

“I’ve been flirting with you since I was 15, you moron.”Dick flicks his nose, and Wally flinches in surprise rather than pain. “Mr.Flirts With Anything That Has A Pulse, you really can’t see it when someoneelse is into you.”

“You’re into me?”

Dick rolls his eyes again. “Jesus, you’ve got a thickskull.”

“Hey!” Wally flicks him back, green eyes narrowed inoffense.

Now Dick’s grinning again. “There you are. I was beginningto wonder if I shocked the sense right out of you.”

“You almost did.”

“Not a difficult task.”

Wally throws his hands in the air in exasperation, steppingaway from his friend. “Christ, is it Pick-On-Wally Day or something? You’rerelentless.”

“Sorry.” Dick’s smile turns sheepish as he rubs the back ofhis neck. “Kind of a… defense mechanism, I guess.”

Wally turns back to him, hands dropping to rest at hissides. Dick is still leaning against the sink, now crossing his arms over hisstill bare chest in a sort of hunched position, staring at the floor. All thecheeky bravado is gone, replaced by what looks like a strong case of nerves.Wally realizes that he really doesn’t like that look on Dick.

“Why would you need that?”

“What?”

“A defense mechanism.”

“Oh.” Dick shrugs, glancing up at Wally once before staringat the floor again. “Uh. I dunno. I guess… for whatever your reaction to thisis.”

“Well, surprise isdefinitely part of it.” Wally takes a step closer again. “Why did you never sayanything?”

Dick finally looks up at him again, but his expression ishilariously deadpan. “I did. Or I tried to. It’s like you’ve been deaf forthree years, I didn’t think I’d ever get it through your head.”

“You did now.”

Wally notices how close he’s gotten to Dick again, who seemsto notice it as well, since a strong blush flares up his cheeks all the way tothe tips of his ears. Wally decides he kind of likes that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What- uh…” Dick clears his throat, standing up a little straighter.“What does that mean?”

“Not sure yet.”

His gaze flickers over Dick’s face, taking in all the littlethings he’s never really noticed before: his sharp jawline, full lips, straightnose. Those blue eyes, hiding behind pitch black sunglasses. Eyes he’s neverseemed able to look away from. Not that he’s ever wanted to.

Dick is pretty. Not in a feminine way, but that’s not a badthing. It’s just a fact. Dick is pretty, now. Handsome. Kinda hot, actually, nowthat Wally thinks about it.

Wally’s not really thinking a whole lot right now though.

“Mind if I try something?” He asks, voice soft and curious.

Dick swallows visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a waythat Wally finds kind of inviting.

“Sure.”

Wally lifts a hand, hesitating for only a fraction of asecond that Dick would never be able to register, before gently taking Dick’s shadesoff and placing then on the counter beside them. Dick’s eyes never leave his,watching his every movement. Both of them are holding their breath at thispoint. Wally’s pushes a stray lock of black hair back into place before slippinghis hand around the nape of Dick’s neck, tilting his head up ever so slightly.

Dick meets him halfway as Wally leans in. He’s not surprisedthis time – Dick always seems to know what he’s thinking. Wally closes his eyesjust before their lips meet, that last second of anticipation feeling like an eternity– and just like that it’s like there’s fireworks going off inside his chest. He’skissing Dick, and Dick is kissing him back, and it’s like the last few puzzlepieces of his life just slotted into place.

His free hand comes up to rest on Dick’s hip, pulling him alittle closer in the process. Dick’s own hands are resting gently on hisshoulders, one thumb rubbing absentmindedly over his collarbone, and suddenly Wally’spressing Dick backwards against the sink like he just can’t get close enough. Dicksqueaks into his mouth in shock, fingers gripping at his shoulders for just a secondbefore his arms are winding around Wally’s neck. The kiss is clumsy and a littlewet, considering they’ve never done it before, but Wally doesn’t really care thatmuch. Not with Dick’s flushed skin against his own, soft lips parting for himwithout Wally having to ask.

The kiss breaks before either of them is ready for it to end,their foreheads pressed together and breath mingling as they gasp for air. Wally’seyes open to find those damn baby blues watching him, glazed over with want andjust a little bit of apprehension.

“So?”

“Hm?”

“You tried it.” Dick swallows, licking his lips beforespeaking again. “What did you think?”

Wally huffs out a soft chuckle, shifting his weight to leanhis hands on the edge of the sink, trapping Dick in place between Wally’s bodyand the appliance. Dick’s looking at him so hopefully that Wally feels hisknees go a little weak, and he wants to slap himself for being so damnoblivious. His eyes flick down to look at Dick’s mouth again, then back up to hisclever, calculating, expressive blue eyes, and the realization that his bestfriend could be so much more than just that settles comfortably in his chest.

“I think I could get used to that.”

#birdflash #dickwally #dick grayson #wally west #prompt #fluff #mine #beach fic #cute #yj #young justice #you can definitely tell i wrote the first half of this like two months ago #but its fine #its done #and im fairly happy with it #hope you like it!!! i always smile when i see your comments on my fics so this one is kinda special

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falling--in--place · 6 years

Text

25 Questions Tag

I was tagged by @sixstepsaway ♥ Thank you darlin! I may have done this before? Idk, I love tag games so I’m doing it anyway!

1. Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Not exactly? The book I’m working on now is exactly where I want to be with my writing right now. I am holding off on revisiting an old one though. It needs a complete rewrite and re-release. I held myself back so much, but I’m just not sure I should do it. I decided I’m going to though. Just a matter of when the need to do surpasses my hesitation... So, we’ll see!

2. What work of yours, if any, are you embarrassed about existing?

The first book I published. Embarrassed probably isn’t the right word though. It isn’t as good as it should be, and it needs sooooo much, but it helped me get to where I am. It was needed, but it is definitely not my best. Hence the rewrite at some point.

3. What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favorite scenes first? Something else?

Pretty much beginning to end. I format my documents for publication before I even start writing. It gives me an idea of what it looks like and where I am with it. Sometimes a scene will strike me though, and I write it in a separate document to be saved until it is needed. From being on here I have discovered I do things very... strange. But hey, it works for me.

4. Favorite character you’ve written?

Vanessa. Like, I love her so much. She is my hero.

5. Character you were most surprised to end up writing?

Most of them? My characters just sort of show up and tell me stuff. I do my best to write it down. Vanessa is the most vocal, and she isn’t afraid to scoff at me when I do something she doesn’t approve of.

6. Something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

I don’t think it’s ever really too late. I mean... I have a published book I’m going to pull and rewrite so...

7. When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

A little of both, honestly. On here it’s almost exciting to talk about it all, but when in person... It’s the source of a lot anxiety. Especially when it’s someone I know. It’s kind of hard to explain. I need to get better at talking about my books. I self-publish. Self-promotion is all I have lol

8. Favorite genre to write

Fantasy! Urban Fantasy has a special place in my heart, but the WIP I have right now is more in the epic fantasy class, but not fully?

9. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Music. All of it. iPhone on shuffle, let all the words happen. I also read a lot. I dissect everything I read into why I like it and why I don’t and try to learn from that.

10. Write in silence or with background music? Alone or with others?

Music Always with music. When I don’t put my headphones in I get distracted by literally everything around me.

11. What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I feel like I’ve gotten better at knowing when to stop. I had always been so “HERE IS ALL THE INFORMATION I EVER FOUND FOR THIS BOOK AND YOU NEED TO KNOW IT ALL RIGHT NOW!” Info dumps in every chapter is not a good quality to have... I kicked that habit for the most part. I think I am much better writer for it!

12. Your weaknesses as an author?

Several? Editing is really hard for me because I get attached (and it takes forever!). Being overly descriptive of characters at first meeting. Fight scenes take a few tries... I usually write it, read it over, flesh it out to be better, then cut a bunch of stuff to add in a bunch of other stuff, and because of my anxiety... all of this has to be done before I can move on in the story.

13. Your strengths as an author?

I think I’m pretty good at setting the scene.

14. Do you make playlists for your work?

Not really... Some songs tend to stick with a character or an event, but I don’t ever specifically set up playlists for my books.

15. Why did you start writing?

I had stories living in my head, and a need to tell them.

16. Are there any characters who haunt you?

Of my own? Not really. I guess Harley does a little. Her story will get it’s retelling.

17. If you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Just.. write. Stop worrying about everyone else and their opinions. You can edit and fix later, and not everyone’s opinion needs air time.

18. Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? What were they?

Jennifer Estep, David Dalglish, Richelle Mead... I could go on, but I don’t think this is supposed to be a novel on it’s own. Estep showed me a smart, beautiful woman that didn’t give a shit about others opinion of her, but she still cared deeply for those around her. She also has a thing for knives which is badass. David Dalgish showed me that research is great, but sometimes you just have to flow and see where it takes you. He also gave me characters that were so fleshed out, real, and raw that I will forever carry them with me. I would love to give a nod to Haern in one of my books but I don’t know how and if that’s a thing I can do. Richelle Mead gave me some of the above, but also a romance that I could truly get behind. One that I could follow and love and cheer for. I’m not much for pure romance, her books aren’t btw, but with her couples... I could read a romance novel about them with pleasure.

19. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Uh... well... I tend to jot down a lot of notes and do a lot of swearing and scrolling back up to re-read things.

20. Do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Both? Depends on the day and my mood.

21. What do you think when you read over your older work?

I don’t have a lot of older work saved unfortunately. A lot of my older stuff was in notebooks that have gotten lost through the many moves I’ve had to make. So, the book I’ve mentioned before... It needs a re-write.

22. Are there subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

A lot of them actually... two of my main characters are gay. I was excited about that... then tumblr happened. Omg you guys... all the posts about do’s and don’t’s. and how many posts about insulting things people do with gay characters that they don’t seem to notice and..phew I could go on forever... I am a little terrified right now, but I’m working through it. James is so close to my heart. I’m writing him how I see him, and I’m just hoping no one will take it as offensive or insensitive.

23. Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

Pft... how long do I have? I live an interesting life. I’ve been through several different kinds of hell. I met an amazing group of people who support me. I am a living incarnate of Murphy’s Law.

24. Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

I wouldn’t say expert.... but I now understand the effects of a point blank gunshot to a bone, marriage rituals from all over the world, and how close you have to be to smell a dead body?

25. Copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of.

Longer than “a short paragraph” but eh, just how I am. I’m not sure why I like this one so much. There are other that I like more, but I’ve posted them all at least once (some of them twice) so here is a new thing!

“Can you take me through it one more time, ma’am?” the officer said to me.

What I wanted to do was use one of the charred desks to kick his ass (literally) out the door. Or grab a roll of tape and cover his mouth with it. Whipping out my magic to boot the enforcement officers out of my place of business probably wouldn’t go over very well. It was tempting though. The story wasn’t that complicated. It happened in all of thirty seconds. This was the third time he’d asked me to run through the story again. Ellie and James weren’t fairing much better. Ms. Claudette was left alone for the most part. All it took was a complaint about her back and needing to check on her cats.

“Ms. Parker?”

“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve taken you through the story three times now. Four seems a touch excessive. There was a grenade, I contained the blast as best I could, you showed up. There it is. Now, if you don’t mind, I have shit to do.”

I spun on my heel and stalked away. Something I didn’t think all the way through since there isn’t much space in the office when it isn’t extra crispy. That didn’t slow me down though. I marched into the back office, yelled for Ellie to join me, now, and slammed the door as soon as she scooted in.

I’m think i’ll tag... @panticwritten, @hawksnbooks, @ava-burton-writing, @crazybunchwriter, @lakeeriesaltmine, @anolivewrites, @forlornraven, @leapwriter, @dantedevereaux, and @authorisada

As always, if you don’t want to be tagged or want to be tagged more often, let me know!

#writeblr #writing #tag games #tagged #aaaand im still not following directions #shocking isnt it

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racingtoaredlight · 3 years

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What’s Been Lost

The guitar at the top is a 1968 Gibson Johnny Smith model. The picture below is a collection of all the parts I assembled my Precision Bass from. These are two of my all-time favorite models of any instrument, in any period of history, but they represent two sides of a progression that we can’t reverse.

When Leo Fender released the Fender Broadcaster in 1950, it changed the world of instrument manufacturing forever. If you think that this doesn’t impact the actual music...you need to adjust that view immediately. The Fender Precision Bass alone almost completely eradicated the upright bass’ presence in popular music.

The Johnny Smith model from 1968 is a stunning example of human craftsmanship on a variety of levels. My P-Bass is designed after a 1957 Precision Bass...an instrument 11 years older than the Gibson. However...to this day, after numerous corporate changings of hands...you can still see how Fender is looking forward while Gibson is looking to the past.

This is not an argument about what’s better or worse, rather a discussion about what was lost in this progress forward.

***

I talk about music history a lot because context is important.

Johnny Smith was an old-school jazz guy. He grew up in the jazz age...an age that didn’t have sophisticated amplification and PA systems and solid-bodied guitars. The acoustic properties of a guitar were as paramount as the amplified ones.

You teach acoustically. You practice acoustically. You play in big bands and trios acoustically. And these old “archtops” were designed specifically for this purpose. They were big bodied and thunderous sounding. A Gibson L-5 or Super 400 was designed to be heard through a big band’s mix acoustically, because amplification wasn’t a given. And Gibson had been making guitars like this since the late 1800′s.

In contrast, Leo Fender started his company solely with electric guitars in mind. It’s important to understand this dynamic, because it had long-reaching effects that not only impacted Gibson, but the music world as a whole. And while a lot of this was for the better, there were casualties along the way.

***

It’s hard to think of this as new school and old school, but it’s a HUGE change.

The top image is a modern version of the classic Johnny Smith floating pickup. You can see that the pickup is reflecting off the top, and that it’s not attached to the guitar itself anywhere. The pickup is mounted on the pickguard, and no screws were put into the guitar’s top itself, to preserve all the acoustic qualities.

Wes Montgomery was a new school guitarist when he hit the scene, as weird as it is to think of a 60′s jazz guitarist in those terms. You can see that his guitar has a hole drilled into the top, with the pickup screwed into a mounting bracket. This helped tremendously in keeping the big, hollow guitar from feeding back...and was much more suited for amplified playing. Floating pickups from this era were essentially afterthoughts...”hey you need to plug into something, and this doesn’t fuck with the top.”

I’ve played both floating and fixed pickup archtops. An archtop with a fixed pickup is not a great acoustic experience. Sure, it amplifies an acoustic sound, but it’s neither loud nor particularly pleasing. Plugged in is a different story, but there wasn’t much of a window this style of guitar proved to be practical in, even if it was an improvement over a floater.

But this was Gibson, the company, saying “we see the movement music is making, and we need to adjust.”

They might have been kings of the arcthop, jazz era...but Fender essentially said they’re not even going to challenge in this area, instead focus on the future. To their credit, Gibson made moves in this regard with the solidbodied Les Paul...but there was still tremendous demand for the old school archtops, as the music industry still had a spot for guitarists like this.

***

Gibson themselves kind of killed their archtop legacy in 1958, when they released the iconic ES-335. They had a number of other smaller, thinner bodied archtops, but the 335′s centerblock underneath changed the game.

You could still get an airy jazz sound out of it, but now you also had access to all the overdriven rock sounds that were blossoming during this time. And the 335 still retained a lot of the hallmarks of Gibson’s craftsmanship you see in their archtops, but at a much more approachable price.

Same with the Les Paul. If you didn’t want a “jazz guitar” then this is where you went. And while there are degrees of craftsmanship involved in the 335 and Les Paul, it’s nothing anywhere near the level of expertise you see in Gibson’s archtops.

This is to say nothing of Fender-style guitars, which don’t require any craftsmanship at all. It’s hard to compare hand-curved sides of beautifully aged flamed maple, ebony overlays, mother-of-pearl inlays, gilded hardware, pristince spruce tops...to instruments you can put together with a screwdriver.

Wood doesn’t matter with a Fender. It’s almost a subtractive influence on the tone, rather than an essential ingredient. It’s incredibly unfair to say this, also not true whatsoever...but there’s really nothing special about a Fender. Even in the lauded pre-CBS era, it wasn’t made by a single person, it was made on a conveyer belt, and it’s just a machine or tool rather than an instrument.

Again, that’s not fair...but in comparison to a vintage Gibson? It’s 100% accurate.

***

If you’ve never played guitar...any instrument really...and you’ve never experienced playing a Fender-style against an expertly crafted archtop, it’s hard to understand this dynamic. Even talking primo vintage or boutique versions, the experience just isn’t the same.

To the audience, this might not matter, but to musicians it’s HUGE. The personal experience of actually playing an instrument like these archtops is special. Not “baby gloves” special, but special in the sense that this instrument is not something you can just go and play at Guitar Center.

Few weeks ago, I talked about vintage electric guitars...and while playing a 1959 Strat, both me and the guy who was selling it agreed we wouldn’t trade it for our modern-Strat variants. But acoustic instruments are different beasts, and age differently. A solid Fender or Les Paul isn’t going to change much as its wood ages...but an acoustic guitar absolutely does.

Spruce is a very resinous wood, and as the thin top ages, that resin starts to evaporate, radically changing the acoustic qualities of the guitar. A certain “crispiness” and “airiness” comes out in a very pleasing way.

Electric guitars create a pleasing sound for a bigger audience. But acoustic guitars are more personal. More intimate. They have a character all to themselves. As music becomes more electric and less intimate, this is lost. We could talk about electric acoustic guitars, but that’s a discussion for another day*.

*Spoiler Alert...I think acoustic guitars with pickups sound like utter shit, and it’s a stupid ass thing to do in the first place. Play a fucking Strat or an old Gretsch or *GASP* an old Gibson archtop.

***

So, to answer the question, what have we lost?

We’ve lost craftsmanship. That’s not to say the progress made hasn’t been worth it...if I haven’t made this clear yet lets get it settled, there is zero practical advantage in playing an old-school archtop today, and a whole lot of pains in the ass.

But there’s a distinct lack of charm in today’s instruments, even high-end custom shop models and from boutique makers. Guitars supposedly one of a kind seem completely mass produced. For example, I found over 400 used examples of Gibson Custom Shop’s flagship Les Paul that ranges from $6,500-$8,500. Check out their “Murphy Lab” of supposed one-offs and try not to gasp at the prices.

But, to my point, how could you possibly feel there’s anything special or unqiue about any of this, buying one of them new?

All of these modern guitars are significantly easier to make than those old archtops, and there’s a substantial premium built into the price due to the artificial aging. I’m sorry, but that’s not craftsmanship as I like to think about it. Again, this has nothing to do with the practicality of the instruments, just emotive content.

Below, I’m going to highlight a bunch of features you find on these beautiful old archtops. You don’t find this on guitars made by anyone anymore. Gibson will do an L-5 or something as a special one off, but these guitars are artifacts of a time long gone.

***

Wood Quality - Here’s the sad truth...Fender, Gibson and Martin completely eviscerated the old-growth forests that had the highest quality woods in the ‘50′s and ‘60′s. You just don’t get this type of incredible wood anymore, even when paying a premium. The spruce top on the Super 400 above is violin quality.

***

Inlay - Look at that motherfucking inlay!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you’re dropping $8k plus on a guitar, would you rather have workmanship like that? Or like this?

***

Flamed Maple Necks w/ a “Stinger” - The stinger is an ebony overlay on the back of the headstock, something aesthetic only that’s like a treat for the person playing it. You can see in the top two L-5 and Super 400 pictures that the stinger travels down the middle of the neck, while on the bottom Johnny Smith that has a 3-piece neck, it adorns the top and bottom.

The wood the neck is made of likely has little impact on the guitar’s overall sound, but it’s beautiful.

When I started to show promise on guitar, I started classical and jazz lessons with this hardcore motherfucker drill sergeant who had one of the most beautiful guitars I’ve ever seen (made by Brad Nickerson), the flamed maple neck especially. Every time I was fortunate enough for him to let me play it, the sensation of wrapping my hand around that neck and seeing the beautiful flamed maple is something I’ve been chasing for decades, and still haven’t found.

The idea that it’s a “treat for the player” totally resonates with me. The audience doesn’t care, nobody else is going to touch this guitar, it’s expensive as hell for no other reason than looks...but it’s a treat for the player that makes the instrument more special. I do bond with my guitars, and while I love playing all different kinds, ownership is different.

I’ll have my flamed maple neck someday.

***

“The Scroll”/Point - This probably makes the most sense as to why Gibson stopped doing this, no matter how cool it looked. As guitar became more amplified, and more virtuosos emerged utilizing the upper registers of the guitar, this ornate little detail took up precious real estate where you could add more frets. For old-school jazz guys, only having 20-frets wasn’t a big deal at all. Different story in the modern era.

***

Ornate Hardware - You can see a variety of different, unique tailpieces above. The top two are L-5 tailpieces...which were pretty consistent throughout, occasionally putting an artist’s name on the middle section and subtly changing up the engraving. The Super 400 was consistent all the way through, in terms of the design...but would feature unique engravings over the various eras.

Below is the tailpiece you get on a brand new $8,500 guitar today. More practical? Absolutely. But it doesn’t have the same charm as the gilded stuff.

***

Cool Little Touches - Yea I know it seems weird complaining about a guitar company in the modern era not engaging in cost-prohibitive things like making guitars seem personalized and unique. But back in the heyday of these guitars, they were personalized and unique. Typically made by the same small handful of skilled craftsman...not in huge teams with CNC machines.

Those cool little features...the mother-of-pearl heart inlay on the Wes Montgomery L-5, and the hand engraved “Super 400″ on the butt of the guitar’s neck...it’s hard to say guitars made by people willing to obsess over details like that are replaceable or mass produced. As much care and art went into making the instruments themselves, as it did from the musicians using it to create.

The 7-ply binding on the bodies and 5-ply binding on the neck and headstock looked absolutely gorgeous. It serves zero purpose, but just looks really fuckin’ cool.

***

Listen, I get why we don’t see shit like this on guitars anymore...even guitars made by Gibson. But still, these are artifacts of a niche of history that is already gone. The progress of the future leaving you behind doesn’t mean that something necessarily bad or unwanted, it might just not fit.

But there’s something sad in things like this being lost to the march of time. You see little details like these, and you know that an expert human being was responsible for creating this...not some machine or some underpaid laborer. It takes years to develop the skills necessary to make things like you see in the images above.

And while that doesn’t diminish the quality of the craftsmanship and sound of modern guitars, there’s something missing that you get with guitars in this style.

Whether it’s the macro guitar world moving towards solid bodied guitars that require less craftsmanship...or the macro guitar world moving towards amplified styles of music and away from its acoustic roots...what’s been lost is an appreciation for a guitarist’s personal connection with their instrument.

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