#keith matthews

[liliaaa4gia]

Heyyyy, i love your writing and i was wondering if you could write a fic where curtis! reader is dating Two bit. Maybe like some headcanons or smt idk. Tysmm!

I LOVE TWOBIT DOWNNNN

Bad influence ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

One thing know true to word about Twobit Matthew’s, ever the ‘wisecracker’ as Ponyboy Curtis likes to call him, is that when he makes his very often, very stupid jokes, he doesn’t particularly process what he really says in his brain.

So when he says something to you that he doesn’t realise is enough to make you ignore him and give the cold shoulder, he’s more than confused. He’s uncontrollably insufferable.

The first instance, in class - throwing screwed up notes written on paper with silly little jokes and sweet, but strange lines to attempt to get you to turn around and giggle or roll your eyes. ‘you dont needa play hard to get hon’ or ‘what i do wrong baby? Write here _____’ now that second one may have gotten a small smirk, but he needed to understand consequences.

The second was when you walk through the halls and he follows you around, not in a usual way - like an over excited monkey. Grabbing. Poking. Bouncing. Practically being the only thing that can be around your eyes, ears or path.

“Oh come on nowww sweets, be reasonable here” he groans, his fidgety hands wanting to play with your hair.

You roll your eyes and raise your eyebrows, pushing the palm of your hand on his face to move him away, he grabs your hand so that you can’t pull it back.

“See I gotcha now” he actually giggled, cheekily, his eyes creasing but never leaving your face to see if there was any change in your, oh so stoic demeanour.

“Can’t pretend I’m not here anymore” he hummed and raised his brows at you.

You lightly scratched at his cheek with the pink press on nails he swiped for you a few days ago because he knew how bored you could get and how fun even smaller things like doing your nails, and his sisters ..and his, can be. Even if he was practically screaming trying to get them off because the gang could never catch word of this.

“You really don’t have nothing to say?” You finally stood still, your eyes being half lidded and your expression expecting.

“I should be asking you that” he smarts back, you almost laugh, it wasn’t easy to stay mad when he could be so ridiculous.

But you roll your eyes and sigh about to walk to your next class not wanting to fall for it.

“Come on baby come with me!!” the way he says it is casual but really it’s demanding as he pulls you by an arm around the shoulder as he pulls you to the school parking lot. Eventually in his car your arms are crossed and his arm is around your seat as he’s using his other hand to lean over and hold you however he can as he begs you to tell him what’s wrong.

“Really? ‘Some rich pretty boys gonna steal you away from me’” you mock his voice and facial expressions almost making him laugh before he remembers the seriousness of the situation, you swat his hand away as it started to get sweaty through nervousness which he obviously couldn’t show, he runs the hand down his face before he immediately and instinctively puts back to curl around your waist, gripping your clothing as his face even contorts to confusion.

“How can you be mad about that?” He asks, not caring that neither of you are actively skipping class now for a micro argument.

“Keith im not like that!! When you say stuff like that - that I’m gonna leave you for some soc- or for anyone how do you think I feel? Like I’m just another joke to you.” you try not to snap but can’t help it, normally you weren’t sensitive to his jokes but when you feel like your not being taken seriously what else were you to do.

You didn’t realise maybe he was just insecure, but how endlessly could you try to ensure him that he was the one.

“Oh come on baby, I was just foolin’ around, you know I’d never let you go like that” he smirks as he moves his hand down to your thigh now.

“You better not, I don’t wanna be anywhere else.” You finally smile slightly.

“Good.”

“Good.”

You repeat after him as he moves intensely close to your face and lean in to kiss you, intimate and soft, his hand coming from the back of the seat and to the strands of your y/h/t hair.

“You ain’t no joke to me.” His voice his low and for once playful but truthful, not moving backwards and looking into your eyes so that he knows you understand him, his acceptance coming back with another peck.

“Since we’re already out how ‘bout we go get some drinks an have some fun tonight? Maybe fool around a little more.” He leans back with a lazy smirk as all tension off of him is lost.

“You’re a bad influence.” You poke his cheek as he starts the car anyway.

—

[eggrollinabowl]

THE GANGS EYES!! Pony, Johnny, Dallas, Twobit, Darry, Steve, Soda, and a random Ralph photo so everything is even

Okay I’m so ready to sleep now

[asharoni-arts]

uh uh twobit

[ludkikuu]

i just realized this is grammatically incorrect whatever I made this at like 3 am anyways

[blairbutmaributnot]

Two-Bit in my au!!

(I rushed ts please ignore the horrid rendering)

@kirikoisreal @wearingpants @jujuainthome

[jamesdeanbby]

HI OMG IDK IF YOU'VE WATCHED DIRTY DANCING BUT UHHHHHHHH WHAT ABOUT TWO-BIT WITH A FEMALE READER THAT IS LIKE SUPER SMUG AND KNOWS HOW TO DO DIRTY DANCING AND THEY'R EOBSESSED WITH HER BECAUSE SHE'S SO CONFIDENT ON HERSELF AND SO SASSY AND FLASHY

────۶ৎ dirty dancer

a new face has rolled into town and it sure as hell comes with some nice moves to add up!

warnings : clearly a bit suggestive for obvious reasons, canon typical classism & violence.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: OMFG I LOVE DIRTY DANCING THIS CONCEPT WAS SOOOO FUN TO DO!!

Buck’s house is sweaty.

It’s thick with cigarette smoke and the sound of boots stomping and laughter rolling like thunder. The music’s loud and blaring from the corner speakers, making the cheap floorboards vibrate under every step.

Two-Bit has his second drink in hand—maybe third, he’s lost count—and he’s shoulder to shoulder with Dallas, Steve, and Sodapop near the kitchen doorway, leaning against the wall like they own it.

They’re shootin’ the breeze, talking loud and laughing louder, when the music shifts.

A low bass kicks in. Something sensual. Something that drips slow and hot.

And that’s when you take the floor. You and your girl—some pretty greaser broad with cherry red lipstick and big curls—slip between the bodies like you own the whole goddamn place. The music slows down, gets filthy.

In heels and curve-hugging dresses that looks like they were poured on, not zipped. You move with the ease of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing, and more importantly—who is watching.

Then you dance. Really dance. Not like the rest of the girls—cute lil hops and soft shimmies.

No.

It’s sultry. It’s dirty. It’s low, close, hot.

Your hands on the girl’s waist, her leg slotted between yours, both of you moving in tandem like you’ve been doing this since you were old enough to skip curfew. Hips rolling, thighs brushing, skin shining. Not a care in the world. Just two gorgeous girl tangled in rhythm, turning Buck’s living room into something straight out of Havana. It’s the kind of dancing that makes old women clutch pearls.

Boys around you start hollerin’, whistling, clapping to the rhythm.

Sodapop nearly chokes on his beer, eyes wide as saucers. Dallas smirks so wide his cigarette damn near falls out. Steve elbows Two-Bit, who’s already staring shamelessly.

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, awe-struck. “That’s dancing?” Dallas lets out a long, low whistle. “That ain’t dancing, man, that’s straight-up foreplay.”

Two-Bit, though? He’s gone.

Eyes locked. Lips parted. Beer forgotten. The music’s in his bones now, but it’s not the song that’s got him dizzy. It’s you. The way you smile like you know exactly how many pairs of eyes are on you, and you love it.

When the song winds down, you end the dance with a dip, your hand on the other girl’s thigh, your breath hot against her neck. Everyone’s clapping like it’s the Fourth of July, but you straighten up slow, turn around—

—and your eyes meet his.

Two-Bit stiffens like a struck match. You cock a brow at that, slow and sultry. He gulps.

Then you saunter over. Not walk, saunter. And he tries to recover, flashing you a cocky grin, but you’re too quick.

“Damn, baby,” he breathes, already chuckling, “with that body, you could do me like a girl and I swear I wouldn’t complain.”

You let out a soft laugh, before plucking the cup from his hand and taking a long, slow sip. His mouth drops.

You tilt your head, slow and deliberate. Red nails brushing down your collarbone. “That so, pretty boy?”

He nodded, a little too fast. “Hell yeah. Give me the full treatment. Knock me flat.”

You chuckled, took a sip of your drink, then reached out—fingers curling around the collar of his shirt.

“Then come earn it, loverboy.”

From the corner, Sodapop grins ear to ear and waves at him like he’s going off to war “Godspeed, Two-Bit!”. Steve gives a long whistle. Dallas just lights another smoke, watching with a half-smirk like he’s got a bet riding on how fast you’ll fry him.

You don’t even give him time to gather his breath. You take grab him by the belt loops and drag him to the corner of the makeshift dance floor, somewhere away from the center but still under the red haze of the overhead lamp. The music swells again—slow, dirty, full of bass.

And then you start.

Your body presses to his like melted chocolate, one hand trailing down his chest like you’re marking him. You roll your hips with the rhythm, sliding close, your thighs brushing his, your mouth ghosting near his ear. Your hand is on his neck. His shoulder. His hips.

He’s not moving. He’s frozen. Trying to keep up, sure, but mostly holding on for dear life.

And when you spin around—back to his chest, your backside flush against him—and start rolling your hips like that, Two-Bit lets out a breathy groan.

You smirk. You hear it.

Your fingers slip behind his neck as you grind back into him, slow and purposeful. “Sweet mother of mercy…” he mumbles under his breath, voice cracking halfway through, swallowing so hard it hurts. His hands hover near your waist like he wants to touch, but he’s too afraid he might combust if he does.

“C’mon, Matthews,” you whisper, all silk. “You gonna keep starin’ or dance with me?”

He finally moves, hands settling at your hips, gripping just a little too tight. His breath is hot against your shoulder. He’s red—all the way to his ears. Half-drunk on the beer, sure, but mostly on you. On your warmth. Your smell. The feel of you pressing close, grinding slow, dragging him down with every roll of your hips.

You turn around, eyes locked with his, and he looks like a man halfway through a religious experience. “That’s it, baby. I lead, you follow.”

He obeyed.

You slid down his body, hands skimming the front of his jeans, then rose up again like smoke, grazing your chest against his. He made a sound: somewhere between a groan and a prayer. His face was burning. His eyes were glued to yours, pupils blown wide like he’d just seen heaven in high heels.

Behind you, somewhere in the shadows, Soda gave a low whistle. “Poor bastard’s gonna combust.”

Dallas, cackling, raised his beer. “cheers to him.”

You didn't stop. Your fingers tugged at Two-Bit’s belt loops, pulling him flush against you, lips grazing the corner of his mouth as you whispered “Stick around, cowboy,” you murmur. “I might want a second dance.”

Then you spin away, hips swaying, sauntering back to your girls like nothing just happened, leaving him wrecked.

He stands there, blinking, one hand still ghosting at the air where your waist used to be, the other adjusting the front of his jeans like a poor bastard caught by surprise.

From the doorway, Sodapop howls with laughter. Steve just shakes his head and mutters, “He’s done for.”

And Two-Bit?

He grins like he just touched heaven and lived to tell the tale.

“Hot damn,” he whispers to no one in particular, voice breathless.

He’s still staring at you.

[starcraftt]

Steve: Oh yeah. im so cool guys. frick you. >:3

Johnny: I saw dal do this once it looked cool. :D

Two-Bit: i dunno what's happening rn man who are we flipping off

Darry: fuck off.

Soda: is that a toothpick in his mouth frick off

Pony: FUCK OFF BITCH he's so proud of himself rn man

Dally: I taught them this. :)

[abnormalfuntime]

“He knew the whole story, and having never dreamed about anything but blondes, he was interested.” Yk Pony…I think Two-Bit dreams of a certain blonde…if yk what I mean 👀👀🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈👀🏳️‍🌈👀🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈