thinkin about emotionally strong reader falling apart into bf’s arms… :,)
He knows it’s bad when you can’t bring yourself to say anything: no witty remarks to play it off, no humble shrug to show that it didn’t phase you- not even a weak joke that you’d heard from passerby during the previous week. He would have known anyway but he knows how bad it is when you can’t hide the wobble in your chin when you meet him at the door and melt into his arms.
The sound of your stifled cries weaken his heart because he just knows how long you’ve been trying to hold it all together. You don’t know that he sheds his own tears at your sorrow. You don’t know that he feels his own pained heart grow just a touch because you trust him enough to be able to comfort you- to run to him when there is something you really can’t make better.
When you finally stop trying to smother out the sound of your cries, it breaks his own heart into pieces because your grief is his. He doesn’t know what to do in this pile on the floor- your arms wrapped tightly around him in fear of him leaving with one hand resting at the top of your head and the other one of his hands supporting your neck as you weep into his shoulder- so he just holds you.
And later, when your cries turn hoarse and the tears run dry, you let him pull you to your feet. He carries you to the dark bedroom because he knows you get headaches after crying. When you still don’t say a word he goes to the kitchen and scavenges some Tylenol and a cup of water.
He knows you don’t like to feel helpless- to feel like you need to rely on someone. But if he’s being honest, he likes being able to care for you. He likes how you curl up with your head on his chest and your hands wrapped around him. He likes how you let him draw shapes on your back because you secretly love the physical touch. He likes how you let out soft sighs throughout the course of the movie because he knows you’re still awake.
But most of all, he likes the intamacy of being the one you run to when it’s all too much because damn it all to hell if he made you feel like you weren’t free to be vulnerable with him.
summary: you and darry have been together for as long as soda and pony remember that to them—and the gang—you’ve been married the entire time. in fact, they all see you and darry as the parents.
pairing: darrel “darry” curtis x fem!reader
includes: cursing, fluff, angst if you squint, dally is a menace, two-bit is obsessed with mickey mouse (obvi), the usual in an outsiders fanfic
a/n: i love darry curtis, he’s my favorite 🫠
You woke up to the sunlight filtering through the thin curtains, tired eyes squinting at the sudden brightness evading your vision. The bedroom was completely still—except for the slow spins of the fan above—and yet you knew the second you stepped out, chaos would fill the house.
Darry stirred beside you, his arm tightening around your waist and head tucking into your neck. “You awake?”
You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling softly at his morning voice. “Mhm, though it seems like you’re barely awake.”
He simply hummed in response and pulled you impossibly closer, pressing tired kisses to your neck and jaw. You scratch his scalp and let the calm from the morning wash over the both of you before you had to get up and run the household like you were running a tight ship.
“You ready to get up yet?” You ask softly, pausing your movements when you don’t get a response. “Darry?”
“Yeah,” He groaned and sat up, leaning back on his elbows. “I’m up.”
You giggle and wipe away the tiredness from his eyes, earning a quick kiss to the lips before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched properly. You follow suit and sit beside him, tilting your head to meet his blue-green eyes.
“You tired already, old man?”
Darry playfully glared at you, “You’re the one who wanted to stay up all night.”
“And you agreed.” You point out and move to stand, laughing when he pulled you to stand in between his legs, his chin resting on your abdomen. You rest a manicured hand on his jaw, thumb gently rubbing his incoming stubble. “We’re only twenty, Dar. We’re still young.”
“I know.” He murmured and pressed a kiss on your palm. “You remind me every day.”
You smile softly and watch him as he stands, resting a warm hand on your waist. He kisses your forehead before pulling out his work clothes for the day, making you spring right into action.
The routine you and Darry had started ever since you practically moved in with the Curtises. While he got ready for work in the morning, you made it your job to get the boys up and ready for their own day—occasionally the rest of the gang when they stayed over. Last night, Johnny stayed over.
You knocked on the boys’ bedroom door before opening it quietly, your heart tugging at the sight of Ponyboy wrapped in Sodapop’s arms. You sat on the end of their bed and gently shake Sodapop awake first, watching his face contort in discomfort.
“You gotta get up now, Pepsi-Cola. I don’t want you late for work again.” You say quietly as he finally sits up, exhaustion covering his face. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his hands and slowly making his way to the bathroom to shower, work clothes in hand.
You sigh and look back at Ponyboy who was still under the covers. “Hey, Pony. It’s time to get up for school.”
“Five more minutes, mom.” He groaned and tugged the blanket over his head, not realizing what he had said.
For a second, you sat frozen at his words. There were several instances where the boys would call you mom, but they were all fairly conscious and said it as a joke. But as Ponyboy subconsciously called you his mom, your heart only ached at the thought. And you could never replace Mrs. Curtis—everyone knew that.
“Ponyboy, you need to get up.” You pulled the covers away from him, looking down at his tired figure with soft eyes. “Please? You can’t miss another day of school or Darry’s gonna have to come down to the principal’s again.”
After contemplating—although you knew Ponyboy just wanted to lay in bed longer—he begrudgingly got up and shooed you out of the bedroom, muttering a quick acknowledgment in your direction.
You sighed before entering the living room, a sad smile tugging at your lips when you spotted Johnny curled up on the couch. His limbs were hanging off the edge and the blanket barely covered his body, but you knew he would rather sleep here than at the lot or worse, his own home.
“Hey, Johnnycakes.” You kneel beside him and put a hand on his arm, careful to not scare him from the sudden action. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby.” He mumbled and gave you a sheepish smile before sitting up, straightening his jacket to have something to fiddle with. “Sorry for intrudin’.”
You stand and fold the blanket, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re always welcome, Johnny. Hell, I’d have you move in with us if it weren’t for your folks.”
Johnny burned red and nodded, mumbling an excuse about needing to use the restroom. You opened your mouth to tell him Sodapop was occupying the space, but the sudden stomps of boots that came running inside the house interrupted you, the screen door rattling behind them.
“Two-Bit Mathews and Steve Randle!” You call from the living room as they ran into the kitchen to grab the chocolate cake from the icebox, ignoring Darry’s disappointed look. “What did I say about slamming the door?”
“Sorry, ma!” They hollered in unison, sitting their asses right in front of the television that was tuned into Mickey Mouse for Two-Bit’s sanity.
You rolled your eyes and entered the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as Darry prepared breakfast for the household. You watched him with a smile, eyeing him up and down before meeting his gaze, his eyebrow raised in your direction.
“What? You can’t blame a woman for staring at her boyfriend who looks effortlessly handsome cooking.” You brush a stray piece of hair away from your face, cheeks dusted with a light pink hue. “Besides, you chose not to wear a shirt in the morning, Superman.”
“Maybe because I’m comfortable like this.” Darry swapped the finished eggs for bacon, pulling out the grape jelly for Sodapop and hard boiled eggs for Ponyboy. “Or maybe because your reactions are totally worth it.”
“Aw, you love me.” You put a hand on your heart dramatically and smile wider when he pulled you close by the waistband of your sleep shorts. “Hey—“
“I do love you, don’t question it.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to your lips, smirking when you gasped at the sudden action.
Darry knew you knew that he hated public displays of affection. So when he initiated it in his own house filled with the boys who you both knew would make fun of the display, you were thoroughly shocked.
“Darrel, man, do you have an ice pack—? Jesus Christ, keep that in the bedroom.” Dally scrubbed his face at the sight of the two you of you and turned away, boots heavy against the floor as he headed back into the living room where he last was.
You pulled away from the kiss, giggling at Darry’s suddenly bright red face. “You know, for a manly guy, you get red real fast, Curtis.”
“Shut up.” He snapped your waistband against your hip and spun you around, nudging you out of the kitchen playfully. “I love you.”
“Love you more.” You huff in amusement and tilt your head back at him, blowing a kiss before changing your gaze toward the boys sitting in the living room, each boy doing their own thing.
Sodapop was lazily laying on the couch with a towel wrapped around his waist, Ponyboy was most likely telling Johnny about his latest book read, Dallas was smoking a cigarette and blowing it in Steve’s face, and Two-Bit—well—he still sat directly in front of the television with the plate of cake in front of him, using his hands to dig into the sweet without care.
You sighed at the sight and grabbed your purse, taking money from your wallet and handing five dollar bills to Johnny and Ponyboy.
“For lunch. If you don’t eat, I will find you and make you eat extra for dinner, yes?” You put your hands on your hips and tap your finger, watching them with a careful eye as they nodded vigorously and tucked the money into their pockets.
Sodapop lolled his head to the side and met your eyes, making you raise your brows at his appearance. “Why aren’t you dressed for work?”
“Thought I could wait until after breakfast.” He mused, running his fingers through his wet hair before shaking his head like a wet dog, earning an annoyed groan from Dallas. “That alright, mom?”
You exhale slowly and rub your temples, choosing to ignore what he called you. “As long as you’re ready before it’s time for you to leave, it’s alright.” You opened your eyes again and stared at the boys as they returned to do their own thing, wishing they would cooperate a little better than they did.
Just as you caught Dallas stubbing his cigarette into the wooden side table instead of the ashtray you specifically bought for him, Darry walked into the living room and put a hand on your back, stabilizing your overworked mind without knowing it. You looked up to your right and gave him a soft smile, earning one back before he spoke to the boys.
“Breakfast is ready.” Darry announced and watched his brothers and the rest of the gang stumble over their own feet to get a piece of real food before anyone else ate it—almost like a stampede of animals in Africa.
“You better be washing your hands first!” You call out to them when you heard plates clash into each other, pursing your lips to hide a grin when their groans and complaints rang through the house.
You waited until you heard rushing water to look up at Darry properly, his hand still warm against your back.
He tilted his head down and smiled, “You ought to be their real mother with the way you scold them.”
“Six boys under one roof? Hmph, sounds like a recipe for disaster.” You rest your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heart beat under your fingertips. “Besides, if I’m gonna be a mother, I’d rather it not be with those group of boys—“
“Steve, that’s not your egg!”
“Well, Dally took my egg!”
“Can y’all shut up?”
“No!”
You and Darry look back at one another, your laughter and his chuckles ringing through the air. You both knew you would rather take care of these boys rather than send them back to their terrible homes—it was part of the Curtis’ open door policy. Besides, you cared for each boy in their own way, Ponyboy, Johnny, and Sodapop as your main priority.
“You think they’ll let us have our own breakfast?” Darry moved his hand to your hip and slowly moved toward the kitchen, the arguing from the boys getting louder with each step.
You peer into the crowded kitchen, eyes widening at the sight of the once clean space. “I think they probably ate all the food already… Maybe.”
“Hey, it’s mom and dad!” Two-Bit pointed the two of you out, the food that was stuffed in his mouth flying out with every word.
The rest of the gang cheered in laughter—each boy expressing their own opinion on your relationship.
Dallas was beyond disgusted by the two of you, but still agreed that you were both like the parents of the gang; Two-Bit loved calling the two of you ‘mom and dad,’ finding joy in the simple things; Steve didn’t care too much, only adding to the joke whenever he felt like it; Johnny thought the two of you were a better set of parents then his were; and Ponyboy and Sodapop?
They loved your relationship the second the two of you made it official all those years ago, not minding too much that you and Darry were essentially their second set of parents. They wouldn’t trade the two of you for the world, even if you were both sometimes a little hard on them.
“Yeah yeah, mom and dad are here.” Darry pushed through the boys and stole his plate from the counter, emerging victorious with a cup of orange juice for you.
“Thanks.” You kiss his cheek before returning your eyes to the scene in front of you, resting your head on his shoulder. “We sure know how to make a house full, don’t we?”
“Well, according to them, we are mom and dad.” He splits half his breakfast sandwich with you. “I think it’s part of the job.”
You look over at Johnny, who seems to be eating more than he usually does whenever he’s over which makes your heart feel a little better at the sight. “I think I like this job, even if it wasn’t ours to begin with.”
I was wondering if you could do a story where reader is Darrys gf (and they've been dating for a bit) and one night, it's really busy at the Curtis house and everyone's over (pure, lovable chaos), Darry's making dinner and reader is helping Ponyboy with his homework. In the middle of all this chaos, Pony accidentally calls reader "mom" while she's helping him, like: "thanks, mom" just super instinctively, and everyone hears it and fill in the blanks from there...??🙂
Sorry, this is super long, lol😅
────۶ৎ "thanks, mom"
a chaotic evening ends up in a heartwarming revelation<33
warnings : swearing ig
ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: AHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO CUTEEE thanks for requesting anon and don't worry at all! the lenghty and in detail the request, the better!
It was a night.
Not just any night—a Curtis House Night, the kind where every light’s on, the record player’s fighting the TV for dominance, the couch is half a dogpile, and you could swear the walls are held up with duct tape.
You and Darry had been together for a while now. Long enough for his toothbrush to live at your place and for your perfume to linger in his truck. You had been going steady for a few months already. But tonight? Tonight was anything but steady.
The door had been swinging open since six.
First it was Sodapop with Two-Bit right behind, laughing over something stupid. Then Steve rolled in, hungry as a bear. Dallas showed up like he owned the place, and Johnny had slipped in quieter than the rest, sticking to Dally's side like a shadow.
And Ponyboy? Poor thing was sitting at the kitchen table, hair a mess, pencil tapping against his temple like the numbers on his worksheet had personally offended him.
You leaned over him with a gentle smile, your arms braced on the table, your perfume mixing with the scent of Darry’s cooking.
“Okay, Pony, remember what I told you, start by finding the lowest common denominator.”
He sighed, brows furrowed. “Ugh. This is hopeless.”
You chuckled and ruffled his hair. “It’s fractions, not the end of the world.”
Behind you, Darry was manning the stove, sleeves rolled up, brow glistening. You could hear him humming under his breath, spatula in hand, the smell of frying onions and ground beef filling the air. He kept glancing over at you and Pony, like the sight of you two made the ache in his chest soften just a little.
The rest of the gang was scattered. Soda was trying to teach Steve how to moonwalk in socks. Dallas was making a pyramid out of beer caps. Two-Bit was definitely stealing raw cookie dough from the fridge. Johnny was sketching something on a napkin with his thumb smudged in pencil lead.
You leaned a little closer to Pony’s paper, voice warm and soft.
“Here, like this—see? Multiply both sides by four and it cancels out.”
Pony looked up at you with wide, understanding eyes, his face lighting up like a match.
“Ohh. Thanks, Mom.”
Silence.
It hit the room like a dropped record needle. A full beat of stunned, dead air.
And then—
“MOM?!” Two-Bit shrieked, bursting into howls of laughter, nearly wiping out on the floor.
Dallas choked on his soda, Steve dropped his moonwalk mid-slide, and Soda straight-up fell off the arm of the couch from surprise.
Johnny was smiling shyly, chuckling behind his hand like he’d been thinking the same thing.
Darry turned slowly from the stove, spatula frozen in hand, eyes wide. “Wait—did he just…?”
Ponyboy turned bright red, face buried in his hands. “Oh my god, no-I didn’t mean to! It just-it slipped!”
You blinked, then slowly smiled, warmth rising to your cheeks. “Well… I am helping with homework.”
“Mom,” Steve repeated, shaking his head, “Pony just put a ring on your finger and didn't even ask Darry.”
Two-Bit was halfway into a laughing fit, pointing dramatically. “Y’all hear that?! She’s got Pony doing his math and saying thank you, and she got Darry cookin' dinner like it’s 1956. That ain’t a girlfriend, that’s a matriarch.”
Soda was fanning himself. “Next thing you know, she’s packin’ lunches and tucking us in at night.”
“Please do,” Johnny muttered with a grin. “Your lunches would probably taste better than Darry’s leftovers.”
Darry finally broke into a laugh, setting the spatula down and wiping his hands on a towel. He walked over to you, wrapped an arm around your waist, and kissed your temple in front of everybody.
“She’s already the mom of this circus,” he said, smirking. “Might as well make it official.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Oh please.”
But Pony was still hiding his face. “I’m so embarrassed,” he groaned into his elbow.
You leaned over, pulled his arm down gently, and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t be, sweetheart. It was the nicest thing you could’ve said.”
His cheeks were still pink, but he smiled—and he didn’t pull away when you gave his hair one last fond tousle.
From that moment on, it was over.
Every time you passed someone a soda: “Thanks, Mom.”
When you bandaged up Johnny’s skinned elbow: “Thanks, Ma.”
If you opened the fridge: “What’s for dinner, Mom?”
Darry just stood in the middle of it all, grinning like the luckiest fool on earth, arms crossed as he watched you handle his house like you’d always belonged there.
• has Polaroid photos of you (multiple) and keeps one in his wallet so he can look at you anywhere he is (even though your with him most of the time)
• lifts you up when he hugs you, gives you piggy backs randomly just because he wants to feel you close.
• pretends to get annoyed at his hair and say it’s not working just so you can be like “want some help?” And run your fingers through his hair.
• If he catches you doing any skincare or facemask best BELIEVE he’s doing it too- actually making you do it on him as he sits on the toilet seat, the edge of the bathtub, the counter, wherever, he will manspread and hold you between his legs as you grab his face and apply your pink facemask
• call him a big baby because that’s how he acts and he will deny it all he wants but there will still be s smirk on his face proving your point
• he is a suckerrrr for biting you, leaning hickeys all the time without even realising.
• everyone says this but hanging around the DX with him and Steve, and Steve flirts with you to make him jelly, then Soda dragging you ‘round the corner on his break to make outttt
• He wants a simple life, to marry you and have a kid and work his silly little job - so if you don’t want that then there’s a lot to work out
• dancing with him in the kitchen, and you pulling in pony as he sits there with a fake disgusted look on his face but giggles as soon as he’s in the mix
• having late night talks with darry when whoever in the house was asleep and deep down darrys a huge softie dor you and is glad his brother has come one like you
• litwrally eats you alive with his eyes
• when your not around he peobably makes up conversations with you in his head and fake scenarios I’m not even joking
• Dally probably ragebait a him too by making comments about you or tries to flirt with you but when you clock his bs sodas like😏😛
•. You could literally tell the MOST unfunny joke and he’d still be giggling and glazing 😭
• insists he’s psychic when it comes to your emotions
“are you mad..”
“No?”
“Your thinking about being mad though”
• gets into fights for you all the time, your at the drive in and a soc is flirting with you? Oh he is SWINGING, and then laughing because he said he enjoys fights sooo🤷♀️😉
• calls you mrs Curtis alllll the time😛😛
• your parents probably love him, so he doesn’t even need to sneak in through the window eventually and your house is like a second home to him, and you tell the gang they’re welcome anytime (just as long as they aren’t disrespectful😈 - also might make a fic based on ts?????)
look at me, I'm sandra dee
the outsiders headcanons
synopsis :
what would happen if Ponyboy Curtis had a twin sister?
with her curling iron, checkered dresses, baking recipes and nail polish.. how would the gang deal with a sandy olson bloke?
or headcanons for being the only Curtis' sister.
worcount : 1,4k — masterlist 𝜗𝜚 navigation post
tags/warnings : third person pov, cuss words, canon-violence, typical sexist female steryotipes, 60's view in feminity, the gang (*cough**cough* Dallas and Steve *cough**cough*) bullying her in a friendly manner, the reader is kinda like sandy from grease.
The whole gang was sitting on the couch of the Curtis' living room, the TV playing Mickey Mouse.
It was silent except for the sound of Darry cooking in the kitchen.
Or that was until..
"DALLAS WINSTON!!!" your voice boomed across the whole house, just as all the greasers in the living room snapped their heads in the direction of your room Dallas came running through the hall while laughing his ass off.
He was holding your curling iron in one of his hands, the cable pretty much flying behind him with how quick he was running. "I don't know no Dallas Winston, princess!" was his yelled out reply before he disappeared into the kitchen.
It wasn't even two seconds before they saw you running hot on his trail, half of your hair neatly done and the other still without styling.
"hey!" that was Darry's voice. "what the hell are you two gooses doing?!?"
⮞ to say you're shielded would be an understatement.
⮞ ever since you were born, as the only babygirl in the household, both your brothers and your parents have taken care of you.
⮞ yeah, you fought with Ponyboy a lot in your toddler years —especially about your toys, but you all cared for each other.
⮞ and now that you're in the gang, it's like the protectiveness has multiplied enormously.
⮞ as the only girl in the group, you're the designated babysitter for Two-Bit's little sister if he ever has to bring her along.
^you'll both be in your room, doing her hair or painting her nails.
^she adores you.
⮞ the gang bullies you in a friendly way, and I mean that Dallas likes to make fun of your girly things (nail polish, curlers, plushies, etc)
⮞ Darry does all the cooking in the house, but you do the baking.
⮞ Steve loves you.
⮞ like he loves you a lot.
⮞ whenever the gang comes by to hang out at the house, you've baked or are baking something sweet for all of them to eat and he devours your chocolate cake like a fucking animal.
⮞ they all smoke like two packs of cancer sticks a day, but god forbid you ever touch one of those Darry'll cut your hand off.
⮞ you're not allowed to smoke or drink.
^Dallas has sneaked you a few cans of beer sometimes.
⮞ one time Dallas made fun of you for the faces you pulled while putting on mascara and the next second he had Steve and Soda holding him down forcefully as you put mascara on him.
^he was full on kicking and squirming around like the girl in the exorcist and screaming as if you were burning him 💀
⮞ since then he keeps his traps shut about you and your make-up.
⮞ you're actually Johnny's favourite out of the whole gang btw.
⮞ you're calm, and giggly and spend your time doing unharmful and enjoyable things that he'd take over fighting anyday.
⮞ he likes to sit on your bed, reading one of your books, while you curl your hair or put on make-up.
⮞ Ponyboy is your forced and reluctant fashion man that will tell you "yeah, it looks good, like the one before" when you show him an outfit.
⮞ Soda's your biggest hypeman though, he'll actually tell you some pretty good advice on what looks better on you.
⮞ Darry won't admit it, but when you dress in something frilly or pink it gives him nostalgia of when you were a 6 year-old toddler running around on your glittery pink princess dresses.
⮞ We all know Soda is the middle man between Darry and Pony all the time. You, on the other hand, are never taken into account in their discussions.
⮞ Sad but true, they don't really hold your opinions as that important because you "don't know how the world works"
⮞ Steve and Dallas are always teasing you like those annoying gossip aunts in the Christmas dinner asking about a boyfriend.
⮞ they don't know you're staying clear of boys for your eldest brother's sake. Darry really doesn't need the additional stress of you being with some boy he doesn't know that well.
⮞ Anytime Tim comes to the house for whatever he'll give you clothes from his sister or stuff that she's grown out like a specific colour of nail polish or whatever.
⮞ you're not allowed to go to the rumbles, firstly because Ponyboy isn't either due to age and because you're a girl.
⮞ greasers don't pick fights with society girls, but society boys do pick fights with greaser girls.
⮞ you've got a curfew, and Darry will get even more worried than when he did with Pony if you ever get late.
⮞ you've got princess treatment from Soda and Steve whenever you drop by at the gas station to keep them company.
⮞ they tell you to just 'sit there and be pretty' (referring to the counter) whenever one of them has to go attend a customer.
⮞ you've actually, embarassingly so, when you were
younger had a huge crush on Dallas.
⮞ you were 10 and he was the handsome bad boy that tugged on your ponytails, what were you supposed to do?
⮞ he found out three years later, once you no longer where crushing on him, because Two-Bit ran his mouth too much and now he mocks you on it and calls you all kinds of nicknames just for funsies.
⮞ god forbid any of the boys hurts you with an insensitive comment because Darry will knock their teeth out of their mouths without hesitation.
⮞ one time Two-Bit said that your dress looked dumb while he was drunk and Darry grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forced him to apologise to you and tell you that your dress was really pretty.
⮞ talking about dresses and Darry, he always measures that your skirt goes at least two fingers over your knee before letting you go out lol.
⮞ overall they just act like a bunch of overprotective —and idiotic— older brothers.
Darry takes control but in a natural, more gentle way. He always asks before he does things, making sure you’re 100% comfortable, and he listens to every single sound you make, knowing exactly what you like.
He’ll pin your wrists above your head and force you to look at him the whole time just so he can see you fall apart for him.
He uses his strength to his advantage, picking you up like it’s nothing, pinning you to walls, and throwing you over his shoulder. But his hands are always gentle unless you ask otherwise.
He’s never overly talkative, but when he does speak, it’s dirty. ‘Look at you, so damn pretty under me.’ // ‘you want more, sweetheart? Say it. C’mon, baby. Tell me what you want’ .
Morning sex is a go-to before work. There’s something about you both being tired, wrapped up in the warmth of the sheets, and having to be quiet to not wake anyone else that really gets him going.
Also quickies when he’s on break at work. Whether he stops home for lunch or you visit him, he can’t resist.
Major praise kink!! He lives for hearing you tell him how good he is. He’ll coax all the little praises out of you, and you do so willingly, knowing just what it does to him.
He’s a simple guy: missionary, doggy. But he also loves having you on top, watching you do all the work, hands on your hips, guiding you with very little effort.
When he’s worked up, he can get pretty rough. He’ll fuck you against walls, your legs around his waist, hands in his hair.
When he’s behind you, he’ll wrap his arm around your throat, his bicep pressed under your chin just enough to make your breath catch.
He'll push you until you're shaking and whimpering, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you before he even considers letting himself finish. ‘C’mon, give me one more, sweetheart. Thats it…”
He lives for giving you head and will settle between your thighs like he belongs there. He never rushes, kissing your thighs, holding you open for him while he alternates between slow licks and deeper ones. But once he finds a rhythm, he locks in, holding you down.
He’s messy with it: slick on his chin, lips shiny, and he’ll spit on it if he’s feeling particularly worked up, thumb on your clit, eyes half-lidded.
When it comes to receiving, he's never cocky about it. He’ll sit back, hand in your hair, trying his hardest now to buck up into you.
Aftercare is so tender with him and he always makes sure to let you know how good you were for him. He’ll wipe you off and shower you with gentle kisses, murmuring sweet praises.
—IN WHICH, the greasers realize they’re truly, and honestly, in love.
tags/warnings: gn!reader possible OOC, story-focused rather than comedic headcanons, fluff and nothing else(lie), comforting steve, swearing, soda’s part is rushed cuz i ran out of ideas.
ೃauthor notes⁀➷ wow shocker i leave for awhile and come back with a new theme. anyways, hi angels! i love you all sm and i forgot how much i loved being here🥹..! i missed u guys so much!
—
Johnny Cade
cars zoomed by the lot at concerning speeds, the sound of wind being broken up by the obnoxious cop sirens or a drunkard yelling down the street.
though, to you and johnny, all of that fell to deaf ears. it was like the world didn’t matter to you—as long as johnny sat beside you.
the stars seemed to only shine above you two, twinkling and gleaming in ways that you’d never seen before. the moon was your sunlight, with johnny giving you the warmth.
his head rested on top of yours that was against his shoulder, his arm draped loosely around your waist. your thigh was pressed against his, making him more than a little nervous.
sitting in the lot with you made him nervous, despite you and him dating for a long while now. you made him..giddy. that’s the word.
you made him feel like a child again; the child he never got to be.
johnny had his head tilted upward toward the stars and the sky, matching what you were doing so he didn’t look like a clueless idiot.
your hand left your lap, your eyes flickering downward for just a moment that went unnoticed to johnny. you gently grabbed his scarred hand, holding his hand in yours. you held him like he was glass.
johnny felt his face get hot. like, really hot. you were so gentle with him, the type of gentle that he had never been treated with.
he looked down at you, your head still on his shoulder. your hair was so shiny, you were so beautiful and such a perfect fit for him with the way your body mended with his in a time like this.
perfect.
his lips were quickly pressed against the crown of your head, pulling away before he got too nervous to talk.
“i love you, y’know.”
Dallas Winston
“you’ll be fine.”
“i feel like ‘m bleedin’ out.”
dallas complained as he sat on your couch, his legs spread so that you could properly stand between them. you continued to dab the wet cloth against his cheek to get the dried blood off.
there seemed to be just as much of dried blood as there was fresh, his arms and hands coverer in gauze and bandaids.
you gently held his chin to turn his head every which way you needed, because he allowed you to. he liked you so much, he allowed you to move him around like a doll.
though, he liked slyvia a lot, too and she couldn’t do stuff like that. stuff like this with slyvia was weird, even if he did like her.
so, why was it different with you? what made you, of all people, so special?
his eyes were locked onto yours, taking extra note to how focused you look on cleaning his face up. you were pretty. like, real pretty.
dallas was quick to avert his eyes when he realized just how sappy his internal monologue sounded.
“what?”
you asked, taking note to how hyper-aware dallas suddenly looked. his jaw was clenched slightly as he seemingly refused to look at you.
how you always knew when something was up with him, he may never know.
“nothin’. the cuts jus’ hurt,”
he lied right out of his teeth.
dallas’ eyes met yours once more, trying to act tough once again. he asked himself once more, what made you so different?
“are you sure?”
you dropped the wet cloth slightly, the rag no longer against his cheek. you looked worried, and you sounded just as nervous.
you cared.
you cared for dallas winston. that’s what made you different.
dallas knew you were different from his other flings.
he liked his other flings. he loved you. he loved that you cared for him, genuinely.
he extended his hands out, grabbing your waist to pull you closer with a firm tug, your knee supporting you up as it was pressed against the edge of the couch.
“oh, ‘m real sure, pretty.”
“dally, please.”
“please, what?”
“don’t start with me now, winston.”
Ponyboy Curtis
you were golden.
completely and utterly golden. the sunset reflected off your skin like you were an angel, your eyes shimmering like the stars above, the flush across your face making you look beyond innocent.
ponyboy was the one to drag you out into the cold oklahoma winter in the first place. he just wanted to watch the sunset with you, the person he liked.
he protested against your arguments of, ‘it’s so cold out, though! it’s so warm inside, pony. don’t make me go out there!’ with, ‘it’s just a sunset. it’ll be for a few minutes! i jus’ wanna watch it with you. please, y/n?’
‘watch the sunset,’ his ass. he looked at the setting sun maybe twice in the span of 3 minutes. you were too beautiful to not look at.
of course, and thankfully, you were oblivious to his staring.
“it’s really pretty,”
you muttered. your eyes were locked onto the horizon, and his were locked onto his future.
his future.
the more he thought about it, he really liked you. like, to the point where whenever he envisioned a mile stone in his life, you were always there.
when he imagined graduating, you’d be there. when he imagined going to college, you’d be there. when he imagined getting married, you’d be standing at the alter with him.
he loved his future.
he loved you.
“real pretty.”
ponyboy agreed, but for a different reason.
Sodapop Curtis
the moonlight seeped through the curtains of his room, illuminating the lines that it managed to sneak it’s way through. the midnight sky was bright, yet the moon seemed to be the only focus for the stars.
soda held you in his arms loosely, your head resting gently on his chest. he traced imaginary shapes on the lower part of your back.
the sound of his fan whirling rang out through his room, your breathing falling into a rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.
soda always seemed to notice when you were about to fall asleep, and you didn’t know how he did. you were starting to suspect he might be a wizard.
he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, letting his lips linger there for a moment.
his life was hectic. it really was. he was a dropout who works a full time job to help his older brother keep a roof over their head, and he worked as a middle man in arguments.
but you, you were a breath of fresh air.
he needed you like he needed water.
he needs you.
he loves needing something, and he loves needing you.
he loves you. soda loves you so, so, so much.
“good night, baby. i love you.”
Darry Curtis
“oh, y/n,”
darry sighed as he entered the kitchen. the smell of freshly cooked dinner wafted through the air, leaving a comforting taste in everyone’s mouth.
he walked up behind you, your back turned to him as your focus was on scrubbing the last bit of dishes. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling himself closer to you as if he needed to be as close as possible.
he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes looking down at your hands in the sink. you turned your head to look back at him, your faces a mere centimetres away.
you couldn’t necessarily help the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips at seeing darry look so grateful.
darry was a busy, hardworking man. that's who he was, and who he will always be as long as he lives. he provides with no one to provide for him.
until you came into the photo.
darry was cooking dinner out of fear that soda'd burn the roasted potatoes he said he'd make, and ponyboy was just..not that good with anything other than eggs.
he was cooking, cleaning, and working. he had no time to himself, it seemed. but you, the angel you are, takes it off his hands. maybe it was to just have him all to yourself after work, he didn’t care.
you were the angel that he prayed for day and night.
and god knows how darry loves angels.
you ruffed his hair, not bothering to dry off the water that stuck to your skin. darry chuckled, lightly shaking his head in a poor attempt to dry his loose curls.
in his own retaliation, he pulls you impossibly close, attacking your face with as many kisses he could. giggles filled the room as you attempted to push yourself away from him, only for his grip to tighten.
he pulled away at his expense, pressing one last kiss on the crown of your head.
“love you, doll. i really do,”
Steve Randle
“you’re always welcomed here, steve. you know that,”
you lightly scolded him as he sat on the edge of your bed. he’d been couch hopping before he came to you, a broken and embarrassed man.
you were rummaging around in your closest for another old blanket he could use, since from prior experience, you learned that steve has a tendency to hog the blanket you two shared.
“i know, i know.”
he begrudgingly grumbled, hurriedly avoiding eye contact with you with his head down, looking at his hands on his lap.
you looked over your shoulder, seeing just how embarrassed he looked asking for help tugged on your heart strings a little.
steve was never one to ask for help, no. he thought he was too prideful, too good, for help. he thought that he was superman with the way he thought he could help himself 24/7.
you sighed, taking a few steps toward him. you squatted down in front of him, lightly grabbing his hand and holding in it yours. he finally looked back at you with lowered brows, his eyes making him look way more innocent than he actually is.
“i hope you aren’t lying to me.”
“what?”
“do you actually know that i’m always here for you, or are you sayin’ that to shut me up?”
you questioned, allowing yourself to be straightforward since it seemed like that was the only language he knew.
steve shifted his eyes away from yours for a moment, a small huff leaving his lips.
“maybe.”
“steve,”
you started, the disappointment emanate in your tone. you stood up, letting go of his rough hand to cup his face. you forced him to look back at you.
“you know you aren’t ever a burden. i love having you around. i love you, okay? i wouldn’t ever push you away.”
you stated in the most soothing voice you could muster, looking him right in the eyes to really drive your point forward.
steve took awhile to react. he just looked back at you, letting your words process in his head. after a moment, he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you close.
he buried his face in the nape of your neck, his breaths coming out shaky as he tried to calm himself.
he loved home, he really did.
and, look, steve isn’t stupid. he’s heard and understood the saying that, ‘home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.’ but he always thought it was stupid.
how do you feel at home?
well, now he gets it.
with you in his arms, you comforting him and talking to him like he was a human, and he’s never felt more at home.
and holy shit, he loves this feeling.
“love you. love you so, so, so much.”
Two-Bit Mathews
laughter rang out through your empty living room, the television being completely drowned out.
you gasped for more air as you and two-bit laughed at an inside joke that seemed to only make sense to you two. you hand your hand on his shoulder, the other on your stomach. two-bit was leaning toward you unconsciously.
“holy hell, two-bit! that’s so messed up!”
you feigned innocence, pretending like you didn’t play into the jokes that slipped off his tongue.
“well, shit! then i guess we’re both messed up since you were jus’ talkin’ about-“
“hey, wait!”
you were quick to cut him off, leaning toward him to cover his mouth with your hand.
“don’t go snitchin’ on me!”
two-bit snickered to the best of his ability, grabbing your wrist lightly to pull you toward him closer. you stumbled toward him, two-bit catching you by putting his hands firmly on your hips.
looking back at you with a sloppy smile across your face, your eyes having a certain mischievous shine to them made it hard for two-bit to look away.
you were so beautiful when you were happy. you were always beautiful.
how someone like you was able to understand his type of humour is beyond him. he just knows that he’s lucky, and that he’d be a fool to let you slip through his fingers.
he didn’t want to lose this moment, ever.
he loved moments like this.
though, he only ever experienced these moments with you. so, is it weird to say that he only loves moments that involve you? does that mean something?
