#“say it again winston! I want to hear you say it!” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

callme-holly · 8 months ago

Note

Hello!! Maybe you could write headcannons with the gang that have a s/o who’s getting picked on? Thank you!!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐧

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - I go back to school in like 2 days... yay, im so thrilled... Also I'm so sorry this took be so long to get to, my inbox is crazy right now but I swear I will get to everyone eventually !! Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 864 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mentions of being jumped and fighting, that's it

Darry Curtis -

If Darry found out you were getting picked on by someone, he would go mental

Like he’d be pissed

He’d instantly want to know who it is who’s giving you trouble

If it’s the socs bothering you you best believe he’s walking everywhere with you

His concern would go through the roof

Darry doesn’t strike me as a typically violent person but if whoever is bothering you decides to jump you/cause you any physical harm, you best believe he’s starting something

If you’re upset, please let him take care of you, it’ll help calm him down somewhat

Sodapop Curtis -

If Soda finds out someone’s giving you trouble, he’ll instantly feel guilty

He takes it as his job to look after you and by someone hurting you either physically or verbally, he can’t help but feel like he’s let you down a little

He’ll get Steve to track down whoever it is who’s picking on you; you won’t have to worry about them anymore <33

He’ll cuddle with you for ages to try and make you feel better (although it’s mainly to help reassure himself that you’re okay)

Much like Darry, Soda will walk you everywhere

This boy will not risk leaving your side and if anyone so much as looks your way, he’s giving them a dirty look and pulling you in the opposite direction

Ponyboy Curtis -

Pony will feel horrible and a little annoyed when you tell him you’re getting picked on

If it’s the socs giving you trouble, he’s mad

He’ll walk you to and from places and will try to comfort you best he can

If it’s kids from school, he’s got your back

Pony will defend your case no matter what and if someone so much as says anything about you, he’s shutting them down with some smart comment real fast

And if you get jumped? Oh boy, he feels awful

He knows what it’s like to get jumped first hand and he’d never wish it upon anyone

He’d get Dallas to have a “word” with whoever it is bothering you and chances are, you won’t see them again after that

Johnny Cade -

Johnny gets so upset when he hears that someone is picking on you but he also gets really angry

Like, you don’t deserve anything bad that comes to you and he will do anything to protect you

I feel like people really down-play his character like, come on ya’ll, he literally stabbed someone to protect his friend

If he sees someone giving you grief, he’s standing up for you

He wouldn’t start a fight, no, but he’s definitely let them know what's up

If you get jumped, he’d comfort you in a heartbeat <33

You two have got the whole gang backing you both up, so there really isn’t anything to worry about when you’re with Johnny

Dallas Winston -

Oh, Dallas…

When he finds out you’re being picked on, he’s asking for names, appearances, addresses - you name it, this boy wants it

He will fight for you and he will make sure that whoever it is that’s bothering you, learns their lesson

And if you get jumped? He’s arranging a rumble and dragging in the Shepard gang to back him up

He’d walk you everywhere, and I mean everywhere

If you think he’s leaving your side for even a second, you’ve got another thing coming

He’s got an arm around your waist, your shoulders, his hand in your back pocket and if anyone so much as talks to you, he’s standing behind you, glaring them down

He’s defending you in a heartbeat, no matter who the person is that's giving you grief

Needless to say, nobody messes with Dallas Winston’s girl, and he’s willing to let everyone know just that

Steve Randle

Much like Dallas, Steve is asking for names almost instantly

He will not hesitate to fight someone for you

He gets so defensive on your behalf and will become insanely protective over you

If someone has said or done something to you that really bothered you, he’s comforting you and going after the person in a heartbeat

You’re his number one priority and he wants you to be happy at all times

You think he’s leaving your side? Nope, no chance

He’s gonna be one step behind you at all times and if he catches anyone giving you problems, they’re in for a rough time

I’m telling you, he’s shooting everyone dirty ass looks

If someone so much as says “hello” to you, Steve will be coming up behind you

“this person giving you trouble, babe?”

He’s just looking out for you

Two-bit Mathews -

The second you tell Two-but you’re being picked on, he’s smothering you with love

He’s not letting you go at all

He doesn’t want anyone making you think you’re worth less than you are

Secretly, he’s super pissed that someone would even think to mess with you and if he sees them, he won’t hesitate to confront them

He’s taking you everywhere you need to go, no complaints <3

If you get jumped, he will not hesitate to help fix you up before tracking down whoever hurt you

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

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pedge-page · 11 months ago

Text

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife # 7: House Pet

Can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight Daddy kink, suggestive of oral M receiving, annoying reader and annoyed Joel

18 + ONLY

- - - -

You watch one depressing commercial of shivering dogs left emaciated in the cold begging for love and care, and all the water in your entire body comes flooding out in tears.

“J-j-j"—snUFFF—“JOeeeOEeeeoelllLLLL!!!" You wail, wiping your snot on his shirt sleeve while curled up against him. “THEY NWEEEDDD MWEEEEE!!!!”

“You wanna donate?”

N-d—nooo--“sniffle—“wanna -wa-wanna aa-ad-ad-opt—“

He chuckles like its some obvious joke, but when he sees the absolute shine in your giant eyes staring pleadingly at him, he puts his foot down as gently as possible: “Honey, we can’t have a dog right now. With you—being like this, and a baby on the way, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. Wanna make sure you and babygirl are well taken care of first, okay?”

There’s a tense silence hanging in the air as you seize a breath in your throat.

And then you’re LOSING IT, whining and crying like a child into his face.

“Jesus,” he mumbles softly, gently stroking your hair, hushing little shhhhh into your forehead and rocking you in his arms like a baby in a cradle— a giant baby stuffed with another baby currently rattling the emotions of the big baby.

He's given you a cup of water for bed and tucking you in, picking up the litany of tissues tossed around you, while you refuse to quit your puffy eye’d and endless barrage of tears.

By the next morning, swollen lids yet calm, he thought he’d heard the last of it last night. And you were doing much better mood wise—no cries, though a little cold shoulder to him. He gives you a few hours till you’re over it and asking for ice cream like nothing happened.

Until now, five days later where every minute is just a retort to his face about getting a dog.

When you best friend comes over to give you extra baby clothes:

"Aww your girl named her puppy Winston? That's so adorable! Joel, ya hear that??” You peak loudly so he can hear from the kitchen. “Too bad I don’t have a puppy named Winston.”

"When you have our daughter, she can get a puppy named Winston"

"Oh! Already picking her over me for getting a dog?"

He rolls his eyes, tuning out to focus on making you biscuits that are too salty so you’ll have something else to whine about.

During movie night:

“…If only I had a dog to help keep my feet warm on the couch.”

He shovels a fist full of popcorn into his tilted back, wide mouth. “‘At’s what a blanket’s for.” he yanks your favorite soft one over your toes and keeps his eyes on the TV.

To the neighbor that just fucking moved in two weeks ago:

"Joel doesn't kiss me enough. If I had a dog, I wouldn't complain as much since the pup would love me unconditionally."

He grits his teeth, excusing himself to the bathroom.

At Tommy’s place for a Sunday BBQ:

“Bought the wood second hand—I re constructed our living room myself,” he says braggingly, drawing a beer from the cooler.

"Yeah, Tommy, it’s real nice.” You charm, and you can already see Joel's fist clench at his side. “Would look even better with a dog in the window."

“Wish I had a fluffy dog to cuddle instead of your big ass."

"My husband spoils me so much. He usually gets me anything I want without asking! Unless it's a dog ..."

Joel finishing adding furniture to the baby room.

"You know what else this room could use?”

"A dog bed, a dog blanket, a dog.”

"If you say-one more-god damn thing-about the dog..." he huffs.

"What dog? We don't even have a dog."

"We don't-need one. Got a cat in the house already."

He thrusts in again with a grunt, your trail of thought disappearing for a second just as Joel’s fat cock penetrates you.

The two of you are lying sideways on the bed, his chest pressed flush against your back. With your leg just barely propped up with his masculine arm hooked under your knee, a hand splayed protectively over your big belly, he has enough room to slot his length into your achy sopping cunt, slowly fucking you with harsh little jolts. You grip the back of his neck, fingers clutched in his sweaty locks, feeling his hot breath dampening your collar.

He lets out a pained hiss. “This lil pussy right here is all the animal I can handle now. Now quit it.”

His hips begin to crash lightly over your ass, rutting his tip deeper into you with muffled slaps. He loves the sight of your now largely grown thighs jiggling with each impact. Loves the feeling of your swollen breasts suffocating his other hand. Loves the knowledge of his wife so stuffed full of him for everyone to see.

You moan lightly, clenching around him at the leisure, unhurried yet pent up pleasure coursing through you. But your mind wonders again. “If you don't want a rescue we can get a certain breed: How about a malnoise? Or something smaller like a corgi? Or aussie. Oh Pitties are so cute!"

He rolls his eyes, nose buried in your hair. How are you even able to have a coherent conversation right now while he's rearranging your guts? Rather than hushing you with another quit it, he decides to entertain you. "Jesus woman. Ain't pitties all mean?"

"Nooooo —mmm baby, right there—“ you whine, panting in sync as you lowly try to hump him back. “Protective, intimidating looking.” You smile, mouth agape and eyes closed when he hits that sweet spot deep inside. “Just—like you, big ol sweethearts…Who give their wives exactly what they fucking want—like a dog."

“Christ.” The hand from under your leg glides over your wet clit, his rough digits rubbing fast circles while his other free arm unfolds from under your throat to grip it lightly. His knees bend so he can rock just his hips with ferocious power, railing with the intent to fuck you so dumb, you can’t help but shut up. “One more peep and I'm switching us up and gonna fuck you like one.”

You really didn’t want to —resorting to this lounging position because your back hurt too much to be fucked doggy, and the baby weighed too heavily to ride him. Thank God his cock was fucking huge—it could reach deep into you at any position. No fucking wonder you got pregnant so easily.

“no- no Daddy, I'll be good," you hum. "Unfff—mmm-yeah—yeah! Fuuuck—fuck me baby that’s it!” You shout. Joel’s hand works endlessly on your little nub, now at the mercy of his ministrations to get you off since you can’t reach yourself anymore. You grip your belly and cry, walls convulsing around his meat with a much needed orgasm. Joel follows suit not too long after, biting your shoulder as his hips still against your ass, pumping you full of his pearly cum.

The two of you stay in the same position, breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs.

His eyes close, breath slowing and getting deeper in relaxation as his fingers lightly dance over your swole bump.

You feel the gentle cooling breeze of the fan spinning above you. Sighing contently now filled with your husband’s love and caressed with his tender hands.

“…So I was thinking, when we get a dog..."

"WE ARE NOT GETTIN’ A DOG AND THAT’S FINAL."

Tommy comes over and can tell something is up between you two. When Joel leaves the room, he asks "so what is it this week with Joel?"

"He won't get me--what do you mean THIS week??"

"Nothing nothing, he won't get you a what?"

"A dog. I want a dog. He doesn’t want a dog. So I don’t understand why he can’t compromise and get a dog.”

He laughs. “Honey, cuz that’s not a compromise. You know why he won't get you one, right?"

"Cuz he doesn't want to take care of me, a baby, and the dog at the same time"

"Nah. He's worried you'll only want the dog’s affection, and the baby gets the rest of your attention. Then you won’t have anything left for him.”

“…Oh!"

Later that night, Joel is still steaming from your earlier conversation after sex, having no regard for listening to another thing you had to say the rest of the day. You waddle into the bedroom, looking apologetic as possible with your hands held behind your back. He only looks up from the bed to see you: in his large T shirt with nothing else, freshly lavender scented from your bath, and big pleading child-like eyes full of sorrow. He purses his lips before returning to his book, glasses perched on his nose.

You approach Joel with an apology gift that you hid behind your back: a stuffed wolf.

He smiles gently unable to even pretend to hold his temper against you. you kiss the tip of his nose as he caresses your smoothed bump. “You're my favorite dog anyway,” you say warmly. “Needy. Grumpy. Likes food. Gives me kisses."

“Thought I didn’t give ya enough kisses? Least that’s what you told neighbor.”

“That was—a lie.” You bat your eyes cutely. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, his eyes raking over your curves just barely covered now due to your size. “I don’t know, Daddy might need more apologies — ya did treat me real bad this week.”

You hum sadly, nuzzling yourself against his chest. your hand trails down his firm middle, all the way to the growing tent sticking up from his boxers.

“I can lick it better,” you whisper seductively in his ear, nipping at his pulse point.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

And after one of your famous deep throated blow job with Joel's balls happily emptied in your already full belly, he leans over to his side table and pulls the drawer open, holding something tight in his hand.

You just barely stop yourself from falling asleep with your head on his lap when he dangles a dog collar above your head. You sit up, inspecting it with grubbing hands: it has your home address etched on to the metal plate, but no name on it.

“What you want me to be your dog? I’ll wear the collar but I’m not getting on my knees, nor crawling around and drinking from dog bowls and shitting in the yard—“

“No angel,” he shushes you. Although the image of you wearing the collar, naked and heavily pregnant on your knees in front of him wasn’t a bad idea at all…he shakes his head from the delusion. ”Aint for you. Thought about it—but ONLY after have the baby and are settled, and ya know IF —and that’s a mighty big if—we find one that’s not too rough shape, got a good sense about ‘im, then MAYBE I’ll consider it.”

"Oh my god! Thank you! Thankyouthankyou--"

"I said IF sweetheart. Got along road ahead till then."

"I'll give you as many blow jobs as you want."

"You already do that for yourself."

"Yeah but... how about I sit on your face? Fully?"

His ears perk up. "Yeah?"

"After the baby is born," you quip, smirking with more confidence then your swollen body can muster trying to wiggle away from his grasp like a devious chubby oompa lumpa. He just laughs to himself as you slip down the bed, and the sudden urge to pee has you B-lining to the bathroom.

- - - -

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#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #last of us fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #joel dealing with preggo wife

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candyfsh · 4 months ago

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. ۫ ꣑ৎ . dating hcs <3

by candyfsh

including; dallas winston, melvin moody, richie white (those are my favs)

——————————————————————————

dallas winston ౨ৎ

𖦹 ik everybody says that dally would be suuuper toxic and a rlly bad boyfriend,, but hear me out. he would literally hate everyone but you.

𖦹 he buys you things and steals you things, about 50/50

𖦹 he isn't one for cuddling or anything but he'll definitely play with your hair and hold your head gently if you're snuggled beside him or on his chest💔

𖦹 he isn't huge on pda,, but he always keeps an arm around you or kisses your face and head and lips constantly

𖦹 he also uses extra pda at parties. just letting everyone know you're dating him 😊😊

𖦹 he will NOT ever let you put makeup on him, but he does let you put chapstick on for him. he likes how gentle you are even if it's just chapstick 😓

𖦹 always brags about you

𖦹 "yeah man that's cool but my gf is soooo hot 😝"

𖦹 he likes to go over to your house whenever he can because you make him feel safe

𖦹 he won't admit that though. never.

𖦹 but it's also lowk obvious?? bc he's always hanging around you and making sure you're close to him

𖦹 im being so fr he thought he wouldn't trust or love anyone again after sylvia then BOOM he met you and he's like OMG.

melvin moody ౨ৎ

𖦹 he loves you and makes it known omg

𖦹 like ofc he cares about his reputation?? he js loves you sooooo much and whenever he sees you he's like woah that's my gf!!!

𖦹 when you're sitting next to each other literally anywhere, he has to be touching you just to like confirm you're there or something???

𖦹 he's holding your hand, his arm is around your shoulder, his hand is in your lap, your head is on his shoulder, he's playing with your hair, his arm is around your waist, whateves!!! he just loves touching you

𖦹 he's still a tough guy ofc,,, but in school, it's kinda like lowkey slowed down

𖦹 but he'll still punch someone if they made you uncomfortable whatsoever

𖦹 i personally think moody would be big on cuddling 😙

𖦹 he loves to spoon you omg!!!

𖦹 moody feels like he can truly be himself around you (including letting his hair not be greased up. you love to see his hair ungreased)

𖦹 he gets you gifts sometimes with the money he's gotten from kids but he refuses to EVER tell you where he got the money

𖦹 PET NAMES PET NAMES PET NAMES!!! 💗💗💗

𖦹 "baby" "sweetie" "hottie" "cutie" everything.

𖦹 you and moody are literally so in love and so adorable and all his friends tease him about being so whipped but he's all like "damn right i am"

richie white ౨ৎ

𖦹 this little baby is so cute and loves you sm

𖦹 my personal hc is that richie has never had a gf,, he just flirts with every girl he sees

𖦹 so you're basically each other's first everything in a relationship. it's really sweet💔.

𖦹 he alwaayyyss brags to you about a new crime he committed. especially the time he broke into a bike shop.

𖦹 whenever some girl flirts with him in the rec center he's all like "yeah yeahh i got a beautiful girl i ain't interested"

𖦹 AND YES HE REFERS TO YOU AS HIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL ALWAYS 😖😖

𖦹 "ysee my beautiful girl over there??" "she's my beautiful girl" "i got the most beautiful girl ever"

𖦹 bc this is his first relationship that's more than just kissing and flirting, he wants to prove himself to you that he's more than a juvenile delinquent

𖦹 (but he'll never stop being one)

𖦹 he doesn't know what to do for dates so he takes you to the rec or a walk around town or his lil spot with carl

𖦹 speaking of carl, he's sooooo sick of hearing about you

𖦹 y/n this y/n that,,, my man richie just loves you!!!

𖦹 btw he calls you the dumbest pet names in public to tease you, like sugarplum and honeybee

𖦹 he will never get over the fact that YOU chose HIM of all people. like he's confident in himself,, he's just like "omg she's so perfect why is she with me"

𖦹 that's why he makes sure to never take you for granted

𖦹 if richie has his hands anywhere on you, his hand is probably in your back pocket. not like in a perverted way or anything,, he just likes it there 😙😙

𖦹 his arms are almost always around your shoulders too

𖦹 he's very touchy

𖦹 you + richie = forever

#candyfsh #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston x y/n #melvin moody #melvin moody x reader #melvin moody x y/n #richie white #richie white x reader #richie white x y/n #guys i think i like richie.....#but hes so cute i love him #i love him sm #hes so cutie #I LOVE MATT DILLON IN GENERAL #im probably gonna write a richie fic based on some of these hcs

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diorgirl444 · 5 months ago

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seven minutes of hell or dallas winston and his soc! rival are stuck playing seven minutes of heaven together

warnings: bad writing! (girlies i’ve never kissed anyone or flirted so my expression only comes from writing fanfiction so it may not be the most realistic i’m afraid), fem! reader, very self indulgent, i’m also aware that realistically socs and greasers probably wouldn’t be round the curtis brothers house together but like if you wanted realism you wouldn’t be be reading dallas winston fanfiction would you considering he’s canonically dead lol 😭, weak ending, 903 words <3

you’re going to strangle Cherry Valance after this. when she invited you and your other friends out for the evening not once did she think to mention that you were going to that side of town…

not that you have anything wrong with the Curtis brothers, they’re all lovely and very nice-looking. nor do you have a problem with any of their other friends who despite what you might think are all very sweet apart from the insufferable Dallas Winston. and you suppose it makes sense because if she had said that he was going then you would have spent another night reading shitty romance books alone in your bedroom. but still, there is no one you can’t stand more than Dallas Winston. he’s snarky and callous and violent - and beautiful.

yes, you’re not blind even you can recognize that he’s exactly your type but he pushed your buttons like nothing else with the way he patronizingly calls you “princess” and takes every opportunity to drive you absolutely up the wall. you two bicker like night and day whenever you cross paths so you honestly don’t know what Cherry was thinking. and despite that, you assumed it couldn’t get any worse. what could be worse than a party with the boy who makes you red in the face and with a desperate urge to wrap your arms around his neck and - let's not go there?

well, you were wrong anyway it can get worse and it did. because as Daryl’s taking Ponyboy to bed some wise guy (two-bit) suggests that the rest of you play seven minutes of heaven. it is quite possibly the most juvenile thing you’ve ever done and you and every intention of sitting out till surprise, surprise Dallas makes a snarky comment.

“what too good to kiss a greaser is that it princess?”

you flush angrily clearly the fact that you’re at this stupid get-together should prove that you don’t harbour any of that foolish class nonsense. you roll your eyes as you take a seat. fine, you’ll play one stupid round of this silly game you think as you spin the bottle hoping to get it over and done with. with any luck, you’ll get Johnny or something who won’t want to do anything but talk.

but no that would just be so easy so instead the Coca-Cola bottle reaches its final spot right in front of the worst person it could ever be. even he has the decency to look embarrassed with the tips of his ears tinging themselves red and taking a long swig of his beer.

“I can spin again” you shrug awkwardly not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“you can’t cheat the bottle girly” he tells you as he sets his drink down and stands up expecting you to follow after him. you can feel everyone’s gaze on your neck as you silently walk into the small cupboard with him. you hear the click of the lock and you're plunged into total darkness. your back presses up against the wall and his tall frame awkwardly clashes against yours. you can hear him muttering various expletives under his breath. god, you’re not that bad surely. the silence is loud and awkward. you swallow heavily before speaking.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask softly before you think it through. cheeks flushing so you’re grateful for the dark.

he scoffs “You think I hate you…” he says it as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

you feel insecure as you speak again, voice small and weak as you try to explain why. “well like you call me stupid things and you make fun of me and-“

he interrupts you before you continue “I call you princess 'cause you remind me of one. I wind you up because it means you look at me and you get this cute little flush on your cheeks. I don’t hate you and man I hate all that sappy stuff but I do seriously like you doll”

“wow” is all you can manage, taking in what he’s saying.

”you know this is the point where you say that you like me too sweetheart” he teases you but you’re sure theres a small twinge of insecurity in his voice and you haven’t heard a more wonderful thing in your life. he likes you.

you kiss him of course. you pull him down by the collar of his leather jacket and press your lips against his and it’s perfect. his hands wrap around your waist and he tastes like the beer and it’s perfect. you want to stay like that forever. you can hear the beach boys playing on the record play in the other room and idly you wonder why it sounds like it’s getting louder and why the room seems to have gotten brighter.

”seven minutes is up lovebirds” you hear Soda’s teasing voice ring out.

immediately you jump out of Dallas's grip like you’ve been burnt.

all your friends are gathered by the doors and are watching as Two-bit hands a dollar over to Cherry who is saying “told you they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other”

before you can say anything else Dallas snaps at them that the games are over and he shuts the door plunging you into two obscurity again as he pulls you in.

“eager are we?” you say laughing against his lips.

“very” he says faux seriously before kissing you again.

you decide that you’re eager too.

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

#diorgirl444 #flo answers #dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #the outsiders dally #dally winston #dallas winston x fem! reader #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders 1983 #soc rival! reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

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frommybedroom · 14 days ago

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inspired by this post

Even after he turns in his essay, he can’t stop. It’s not like he’s never written anything before, but those were the silly daydreams of a little boy with his head in the clouds, who dreamed of movie stars and damsels in distress. What he’s doing now is important. What he’s doing now is necessary.

On the third day in a row that he’s late to dinner—so late that Soda has to reheat his plate—Darry says, “What you been writing about, Pony?”

“Yeah,” Soda says, bringing the plate over and setting it down. “You’re always still up when I try to go to bed. I’ve had to replace the batteries in your flashlight twice now. Are you writing another story?”

Pony shrugs. Suddenly, all the words that pour out of him so easily onto the page get lodged in the back of his throat.

How to describe it to them? The urge—to not forget, to hold onto what was. To wring out the words and distill them into a watered-down version of his friends. Those measly words the only things left of Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston.

“Hey, Ponyboy, what’s wrong?”

Pony blinks, and Soda’s blurry face peers at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Darry scoot his chair closer to the both of them. Both wear matching expressions of concern.

“I just—” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “I just want to remember them.”

His brothers don’t say anything. So he keeps going.

“I—I can’t let them just disappear. They were here. They were real. And now they’re not. And I can’t let what their tombstones say be the only thing people remember about them. They were more than just a date.”

Soda leans over and ruffles his hair. It’s starting to grow out again finally, the natural dark roots beginning to peek through. “Don’t worry about that, Pony. You’ll never forget them. None of us will.”

“Yeah,” Darry agrees. “Dallas and Johnny were family, and family don’t—”

“I can’t remember what Mom’s perfume smelled like,” Pony bursts out. “I don’t remember what her high heels sounded like on the floor or the slight burning smell when she would curl her hair. And I try real hard to remember what it was like waking up and hearing Dad make coffee, but it’s gone. They’re fading. Like they were never actually here at all.” He clenches his fists, and there’s still a faint ache in his wrist. “I’m not gonna let that happen to them.”

He doesn’t tell them that sometimes at night, after Soda’s fully asleep and snoring like some dang bear, he sneaks out of bed and into the closet where they’ve kept Johnny’s clothes folded in a neat pile. Sometimes he holds them, brushing his fingers over the ripped jeans; sometimes he can’t bear to sully them. Which doesn’t even make sense because the shirt’s still got some of Johnny’s blood on it so it’s plenty dirty already, but he still feels like he’ll ruin it if he touches them too much or for too long.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by arms wrapping around him. A moment later, another pair of arms joins the first. And then he’s clutching onto Soda’s elbow and Darry’s forearm, and once again they’re all holding each other.

He wonders what this scene would look like to an observer: three boys in a rundown kitchen with grime caked under their fingernails and wearing clothes that don’t fit quite right. Unwanted tears escaping from tightly squeezed eyelids. A forgotten plate of food sitting on the table. No parents or friends anywhere to be seen.

He thinks they would see grief. And heartache and loneliness and pain. But maybe also hope. Maybe also love.

#AHHHH my first fanfic for this fandom #it’s 3 am but i couldn’t stop thinking about this post #might transfer this to ao3 at some point but for now it’s a ✨tumblr exclusive✨#my writing #fanfiction #this has gone through zero (0) editing #i wrote it and hit post #the outsiders #the outsiders musical #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #darrel curtis #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #the outsiders fanfiction

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ultravionna · 4 months ago

Text

confrontation

pairings: dallas winston x reader [gender not specified]

summary: suspicion and tension rise when reader stumbles upon something unexpected at buck’s.

warnings: nsfw if you squint, allusions to smut, cursing

w/c: 422

a/n: my first ever fic, not edited, just getting my feet wet. any (constructive) feedback is appreciated :)

dallas’s room at buck’s was completely trashed from yet another rager buck had thrown the night before. you didn’t attend due to the fact that dallas wanted to keep the relationship on the low. you respected his wishes until the day you had enough—today. you were in his bedroom having a full blown argument over a pair of underwear you’d found under his bed. knowing his ex sylvia was at the party last night as well, you felt angry. hurt. played. and it didn’t help that he did not see the problem at hand.

“i really don’t get why you’re acting like a goddamn baby about it, man. i ain’t do nothin’ wrong.” he countered in defense from across the room.

“are you fucking kidding me right now, dallas?! then who the fuck are these, ‘cause they sure ain’t mine?” you shouted back, throwing the pair of underwear at him.

“i should’ve known you were no good! walking around town thinking you’re hot shit, but you aren’t, dallas! you aren’t! you lie, you cheat. you’re a coward!” you two had been going back and forth for the past half an hour, quite sure that everyone downstairs at buck’s was hearing in on the gossip, but you could care less about what they thought.

dallas clenched his jaw, stepping over to you with long, quick strides and gripping you by the arm. “say it again.” he demanded, his dark brown eyes staring into yours with intensity as you tried to break from his grasp.

“let go of me.” you fought, pushing against his chest, even though he clearly wasn’t gonna budge.

“say it again,” he repeated, his tone cold.

“you’re a fucking coward.” you said louder before he pushed you back into the wall and gripped you by the throat.

“ima coward, huh? sure don’t fuck like one. ‘n that thing from last night screamed my name better than you ever could,” dallas said with a sly smirk on his face, his hands moving to take a hold of your waist and press himself closer as he leaned forward and let his lips brush against your neck.

“i hate you,” you mumbled.

“oh, i know you do, sweetheart, but you love this dick,” he murmured before undoing his belt with one hand and continuing on to fuck you senselessly into the wall.

make up sex with dallas was definitely a favorite. even if it meant going to extreme measures, like placing an old pair of your underwear under his bed, to get it.

#dally winston #dallas winston x reader #the outsiders #dally winston x reader #dally x reader #dallas winston #the outsiders x reader

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captaincorgi128 · 12 days ago

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On Christmas Day of 2018, I received a paperback copy of George Orwell's 1984. I was 12 years old.

I remember the adults - aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, looking at me cautiously, as if they had handed me a live bomb rather than a book. "That's a very intense book, okay?" my father told me. "If you want, we can talk about it after you read it." 12-year-old me, with only a dim idea of what fascism actually was and an insatiable appetite for books, only nodded.

While my younger cousins and sister played with their new toys, I sat on the couch and read the book in one sitting. When I finished, I looked up to see the adults staring at me with a strange sort of fascination. "Do you want to talk about it?" my father asked.

"No." I shrugged and turned away.

The truth was, I had been expecting a happy ending. Winston Smith was the good guy, wasn't he? Why didn't he win? Evil governments always lost in the end, didn't they? How could Winston have been brainwashed into believing such an evil, awful dictatorship was truly great? After all, when my middle school history teachers talked about dictatorships, those of Hitler and Stalin, it was obvious that they were the worst of the worst. No one actually agreed with them, did they?

Then I remembered my fourth grade class talking about the upcoming election, laughing about how obviously stupid Trump's wall idea was, and how strange it felt to hear someone say Clinton was worse. I don't remember his reasoning, but I distinctly remember thinking it was dumb because what could be dumber than a giant wall around Mexico? I remembered my grandmother arguing against vaccinating children, and I remembered flat Earthers I had seen online. That day was the first time it clicked for me: people believe what they want to believe.

The years passed. I read 1984 again, and again, and again. I watched as Trump shut down the government for sake of a temper tantrum, as he was impeached, as he told Americans to inject bleach, as he politicized a pandemic and let thousands die. I didn't know about his SA scandals. I didn't know he had called Mexicans "thieves and rapists." I just knew he could not be allowed to be president again.

Yet, when 2020 rolled around, I was only 14 years old and could not vote. I settled for watching anxiously as the votes came in - I didn't know much about Joe Biden, but he was clearly a better alternative. He actually believed the COVID-19 pandemic was real, for one. So I sighed in relief as the results came through four days later: Joe Biden had been elected president of the United States.

I kept watching. I watched as Trump incited insurrection, as terrorists stormed the Capitol. I stared in horror at the TV. How could this have happened? How were so many people so delusional?

In December 2021, for my sophomore year English class, I read 1984 again. I thought of January 6th.

My classmates thought it boring, confusing, stupid. It didn't make sense. What did it matter? Who cared whether or not we knew the significance of the character of O'Brien?

I kept watching. The summer before my junior year of high school, just before I entered a relationship with my now-partner, Roe v. Wade was overturned, and I felt a sinking pit in my stomach. Six months later, a friend of mine read 1984 for that same English class, and he loved it - we had a few intense study hall discussions about the nature of doublespeak, of totalitarianism, of a surveillance state. My partner agreed, reading it with a terrified fascination.

I kept watching. I realized I was nonbinary, and I watched in horror as the Republican Party made their creeping advances to eradicate trans rights. Idly, I reread 1984. What the right wanted did seem a lot like Oceania's government, didn't it? I wondered if I'd ever be able to marry my partner, who, despite also being trans, was still the same sex as me. If Trump ran again, he'd probably win, and then what would we do?

Then, 2024. Trump won the primaries in a landslide. I turned 18 and registered to vote. In the meantime, I skimmed Project 2025's bits about banning pornography and thought of 1984 and its carefully curated sexless society, created to achieve perfect complacency. I went off to college and voted absentee, carefully bubbling in the circle next to Vice President Kamala Harris's name. I woke up on Wednesday, November 6th to see Trump had won the presidency.

It has been one week. Again, I watch as Trump proposes a Department of Government Efficiency, which sounds euphemistically horrific. I watch as he suggests Musk to head it, a man known for being as inefficient as possible. I think of the Ministry of Truth and how its entire purpose was to disseminate lies. I watch as people celebrate, mocking me and many others who had desperately voted against a fascist, a rapist, a convicted criminal, a man who would kill us and spit on our graves if he was elected to office. I think of Parsons and duckspeak, the practice of simply spitting out the "correct" propaganda the same way a duck quacked. People really did believe what they wanted to believe, didn't they? I realize Trump won because, deep down, people hated minorities more than they loved democracy.

I hope my loved ones and I will survive another Trump presidency. I hope those in Gaza and Ukraine will survive it too, along with so many others - Jews, POC, immigrants, students, disabled, Muslims. At the very least, I hope to live long enough to watch as the bigots are forced to eat their own words and come to terms with the fact they gleefully voted in their own downfall.

At the end of the day, 1984 taught me something I could not have comprehended at age 12, 14, 15, or 16, but can understand now: democracy dies not with a bang, but with a whimper.

#fascisim #election 2024 #fuck trump #orwell 1984 #politics #arc rambles #elon musk #fuck musk #fuck maga #donald trump

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2knightt · 2 years ago

Note

IM SORRY, I KNOW U GOT A REQUEST ON THIS SO MUCH ALREADY BUT…

Your motherly!reader fics are so good 😭! can you pleasee do another? platonic with the gang!! no romance 🥰 thank youu ❤️❤️❤️ your work is amazing btw!

the gang x motherly!reader

!warnings!

1.i did headcanons i hope thats okay😭

2.fem!reader

3.swearing and a small mention of violence.

Johnny Cade ;

like i’ve said before in other fics, he loves you so much.

honestly, you might be one of his favourite people!

when he walks down the street and he just so happens to see a cute flower, he picks it and gives it to you!

when he first met you, he refused to see you when he was injured in anyway. he thought you’d think he was weak and never see him again.

but as time went on, and you showed that you genuinely cared for him, he showed more of his vulnerable side.

johnny likes it when you patch him up now!

he thinks it’s calming, relaxing, and a, ‘nice change of things rather than lettin’ mother nature cure it.’

when he unknowingly/accidentally vents to you about his home life, he does get embarrassed.

he didn’t want you knowing, but when you hugged him real tight and told him sweet nothings?? he teared up ngl.

johnny wishes you could’ve been his mom.

when or if you have kids, johnny wishes they don’t take the, ‘how was your day?’ and the, ‘how’s school going?’ for granted.

because to johnny cade, that would be his perfect fairytale.

having someone as sweet as you to turn his life around, makes him excited to see tomorrow.

Dallas Winston ;

another bitch with mommy issues who is glad to have you.

mrs.curtis was definitely the mother he never had but always wanted and when she died, he was devastated.

but when you came along and started being that mother he missed??? he was both annoyed and over the moon.

he didn’t like that every time you bailed him out of jail, he got an ear full. however, he did like to know verbally that someone cared about him

he doesn’t show you any sort of affection, but he will tell you how he feels when drunk.

“thank you, so much y/n. i-i don’t know where i’d be without you.”

for mothers day, he doesn’t do anything special.

BUT—you didn’t hear this from me, before the clock hits 12, expect to hear like a cute little knock at your door, and open it to see a single flower on the ground with a pack of cigarettes.

dally ran off before you or anyone else could see him.

even though he didn’t sign his name, you knew it was from him. so, next time you see him, say thank you.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

he’s like a toddler around you???

ponyboy definitely pretends to be like, your own bodyguard.

but really, who’s scared of ponyboy?

he tries though!

when he watches a movie and some character reminds him of you, expect that to be the first thing he tells you.

“ya know, when i went to the drive in, you really reminded of this one character.”

“oh? why’s that?”

“well because-“

and now you have to sit there and listen to him.

he’ll draw for you so much :(.

if you tell him your favourite flower, he WILL give you a drawing of it the next day. he’ll stay up all night if he has too!

Sodapop Curtis ;

he’s literally your #2 fan. first place goes to johnny.

he’s your biggest hypeman??? omg???

“gee, y/n! you’re lookin’ real fancy!! gonna get all the guys, eh?”

when ponyboy and darry argue and he just can’t take it anymore, he calls you and asks to come over.

and of course, you say yes everytime.

so please, PLEASE, just let him cry into your arms!!!!

when he’s done, he’ll try to go home but i’m begging you to tell him he’s welcomed to stay the night.

and if he does stay? ponyboy will be at your doorstep too.

he’ll share his famous chocolate cake with you!! he’ll make sure steve doesn’t touch it.

“STEVE THAT WAS FOR Y/N! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT! WE MAKE MAKE ONE TOGETHER! THE MORE PEOPLE THE FASTER THE CAKE WILL BAKE RIGHT?!”

“DO I LOOK LIKE A SCIENTIST??”

Darry Curtis ;

he is so thankful for you i legit can’t stress that enough.

you keep the gang in check, you keep ponyboy happy, and you help him around the house. what more could he ask for?

you legit force darry to relax while you look after the gang to make sure nothing bad happens.

“we’ll be fine, darry. go to bed, your dark circles are gettin’ darker by the minute.”

“yeah super-man! we’ll be fine with y/n!”

“yeah!!”

“fine, but if she wakes me up to tell me about any of you, so god help me.”

if you welcome him home with a newspaper and his favourite cup of coffee after a long day at work, he might ask you to move in.

Steve Randle ;

steve pretends that he doesn’t like you that much.

but he really does. like, the second he hears some soc threaten or insult you? he’s after them.

shit, he might be chasin’ after them in two-bits car while two-bit yells at the person.

he will legit go to war for you if you asked him nicely.

he will rant to you about cars if you let him😭.

he’ll rant to you about anything, honestly.

“and then the old bastard asked for a refund! the ‘no refunds’ sign was right on the door! how could that old bat not see it?!”

“steve! don’t call people that, but yes, it was very rude of that man to do that too you.”

“RIGHT?!”

Two-bit Matthews ;

he forces you to relax and watch mickey mouse with him.

he says it’s for your own good but when really, he just wants to spend time with you without the gang interrupting.

“guys! you’re stressing her out with all your STUPID questions! c’mon, y/n, mickey mouse is calling our names. can’t you hear it?”

“or maybe its the booze you had at 10AM.”

“i will sock you in your fucking throat steve.”

he plays with your hair…he finds it fun!

please tell him how to do some styles so he can go home and impress his little sister :(.

he offers you beer every once and awhile just so he can say he got you to loosen up.

“so y/n…you want some?”

“oh! no thank you, two. you know i don’t drink.”

he calls you mom in a joking way, ya dig?

“momm! steve called me a dumbass!”

“steve, be nice! apologize.”

“what the fuck?!”

author notes ;

1. i like totally rushed near the end LMFAO.

2. i never thought you bitches would eat motherly!reader up like this??

3.are you guys okay??

4.THANK U SWEETHEART OMFG??

5.i think theres no romance??

may 15th, 2023. 6:39PM

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #steve x reader #steve randle x reader #two bit x reader #two bit matthews x reader #platonic the outsiders #motherly!reader

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all-mirth-no-matter · 9 months ago

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: A new threat comes to town, and a new applicant comes to the pub.

Warning: language, mentions of assault-ish

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 16: Fear & Delight

I don’t show it but I quiver whenever you come near. And I cannot decipher between the thrill and the fear. I wanna stop it but like it too much to let it stop here. It’s wrong but I want you tonight. It’s not my own volition but I fell in deep, by running the distance I’ve been advised to keep. I trot to the wolf like a doting sheep, it’s wrong but I want you tonight. — Fear & Delight, The Correspondents

There was news from Belfast.

There was no way for you to anticipate the severity of what this actually meant when you heard a Shelby family counsel had been called. Apparently Arthur wanted you there specifically, which of course caused you some unease.

While the oldest Shelby brother hadn’t called you a whore recently (at least not to your face), he still hadn’t exactly welcomed you with open arms into their business. Over the last month, you’d noticed an uncomfortable power dynamic shift between Arthur and Tommy. One that you were sure Arthur wasn’t too happy about.

For a moment, you wondered if it had anything to do with your incident with Benji — something you still dreamed about. There was a looming ache in your heart that you imagined wouldn’t go way any time soon.

“Eight o’clock,” Tommy said again, his voice low against the hum of the busy patrons of the Garrison. You nodded, continuing to wipe down the glassware. “I already told Harry, he’ll cover.”

You gave him a disapproving look, still unhappy with the way he seemed to go about handling your pub-related business with Harry. But Tommy brushed you off.

The man you recognized as Freddie stood up from his table in the back. Discreetly, you looked between him and Tommy, trying to busy yourself.

You weren’t sure if Ada had told Freddie yet that you knew of their dalliance. He hadn’t made any indication that he did, heck he hardly ever even looked at you, so you assumed no.

“I’ll take a mild,” he said to you, leaning against the bar as he looked toward Tommy, who continued to smoke his cigarette and avoid his old friend.

You took another look between the two before pouring his glass, then watched as Freddie leaned over and took one of the two coins Tommy had laid down on the counter, and pushed it toward you.

Looking between the two, you were surprised to see Tommy chuckle, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

“Cheers, Thomas. Good health to you,” Freddie said, lifting his mug before taking a sip. When Tommy didn’t respond, Freddie reached over and grabbed his cap off the counter, examining the razor blade stitching. “Crown of a prince. Soon to be king, I’d bet–”

“You don’t bet,” Tommy finally replied, still looking forward.

“No, but these past few days I’ve been speculating.”

You tried to appear busy, like you weren’t eavesdropping. It was the job of the bartender to blend into the background. So you continued to polish the glassware as you pretended not to listen to the scene before you.

Tommy waited for Freddie to continue, but when he didn’t, Tommy took the bait. “About what?”

“One of my union comrades has a sister who works in the telegraph office at the BSA factory.”

You remained cool as you listened, but paused at hearing Freddie’s confession. Luckily, Freddie was leaning with his back against the bar counter, head leaned toward Tommy and away from you. You chanced a look at Tommy, who gave nothing away as he continued to look down at his cigarette and listen. You followed suit, going back to your task at hand as Freddie continued.

“She says, over the past week, they’ve had messages coming up from London to the brass. From Winston Churchill himself.” Freddie paused, pushing up from the bar and moving closer to Tommy. He offered the next part in a softer voice, just loud enough for you to overhear. “Something about a robbery. ‘A robbery of national significance’ it said.”

Tommy rose his brow unimpressed, still not bothering him with a glance.

Freddie went on. “She found a list of names left on the telegraph machine. And on that list was your name and my name together. What kind of list would have the name of a communist and the name of a bookmaker side by side?”

You chanced a peak toward Tommy, watching him set his tumbler down before finally addressing Freddie. “Perhaps it’s a list of men who give false hope to the poor. The only difference between you and me, Freddie, is that sometimes,” he leaned in closer, “sometimes my horses stand a chance of winning.”

He sat back up, taking another hit off his cigarette as Freddie considered him before pushing off the counter. He moved in closer, and the tension rose, causing you to grow more cautious. If a fight were to go down, you weren’t sure what you would do – what you’d be allowed to do. You knew Harry was in the back room, but still.

“You know,” Freddie said, leaning in toward Tommy, “there are days when I hear about the cuttings and beatings that I really wish I’d let you take that bullet in France.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh, shaking his head slightly as he continued to look down. “Believe me, there are nights I wish you had.”

The front door swung open, a man crashing through like a bull trapped in a pin. You gasped, jumping toward the back of the counter as you watched Tommy and Freddie spring into action at the sight of their friend Danny.

“They’re gonna get me!” he shouted as Tommy and Freddie grabbed both sides of him, throwing him down to the ground together.

“Breathe, Danny, breathe!” Freddie shouted when they finally got him face down.

“Danny! Danny! You’re home!” Tommy said loudly as Danny continued to cry out on the floor. “We’re all home in England. You’re not in France. You’re not an artillery shell, Danny, you’re a man. Hey? You’re not a whizz-bang. You’re a human being, Danny. You’re all right, you’re all right.”

You watched astounded as they managed to calm down Danny. According to Harry, this wasn’t the first time that Danny had barreled into the pub like this, lost in his mind and attacking everyone in sight. But this had been the first time you’d witnessed an incident.

It reminded you of what your life could had been like, had your father not gotten help himself with his own PTSD. You knew that nowadays, the concept of PTSD wasn’t even an idea – no one could have anticipated the trauma influenced by the harrowing nature of the First World War on the veterans as they returned home to normal lives.

You were beginning to wonder if Tommy had any sort of symptoms or triggers when they lifted Danny from the floor as Tommy comforted him back to the present. At some point, Harry had emerged from the back room during the commotion and began righting the tables and chairs.

“Ah hell, did I do it again?” Danny asked Tommy, crying when he confirmed.

Tommy pressed his forhead against his friend’s, “You’ve gotta stop doing this, man.”

Danny offered his apologies as Tommy led him toward the door.

“It’s all right. You go home to your wife now, Danny. Try and get all that smoke and mud out of your head, eh?”

Danny apologized again until he left the pub. Tommy and Freddie shared a look before Tommy wiped his face with his hand and moved back to the counter.

“Mr. Shelby,” Harry said as he gestured toward a broken table top. “You have to do something about him.”

“Damn right, Harry,” Freddie said antagonizingly, patting the man on the shoulder. “You pay the Peaky Blinders a lot of money for protection.” He followed Tommy back toward the bar, where you’d already filled up his glass. “You’re the law around here now, Tommy, aren’t you? Maybe you should put a bullet in Danny Wizz-Bang’s head, like they do with mad horses.” Tommy paused in his walk toward the door. “Maybe you’ll have to put a bullet in my head someday, too.”

Tommy shook his head, lifting his cap and straightening it back on his head before turning to look at you. For a moment, you could see the real hurt behind his eyes. A vision flashed before you, of Tommy putting a gun against his own head, and you shuttered.

“Bring the bill to the Peaky Blinders,” Tommy said to Harry on his way out the door. “We’ll take care of it.”

That night you approached the Shelby house with trepidation. Aside from that first family meeting, you hadn’t exactly been invited to any of the other meetings. Which was to be expected, you weren’t really family after all. Plus, at the time, there were members at these counsels that still didn’t know of your involvement in the company.

After the Benji incident, Scudboat and Lovelock had become privy to your real status amongst the business. Polly assured you that they could be trusted, and that they would be useful security-wise. You had been receptive to this update, since neither man had ever had any kind of trouble with the books (aside from some bad math) and they’d always been kind toward you.

“Finally, we can get started,” Arthur shouted when you walked through the den door.

Apparently you were the last to arrive. Polly pushed a chair out for you to sit between her and Arthur, who stood and began to pass out small pamphlets.

“Right, I’ve called this family meeting because I’ve got some very important news. Scudboat and Lovelock got back from Belfast last night. They were buying a stallion to cover their mares. They were in a pub on the Shankhill Road yesterday and in that pub there was a copper, handing out these.”

He handed a paper to Ada, which John snatched away to read himself. He gave the remaining papers to Scudboat to pass to you, Polly, and Tommy, who was standing against a beam on the other side of Polly.

“‘If you’re over five feet and can fight, come to Birmingham.’” John read from the pamphlet.

“They’re recruiting Protestant Irishmen to come over here as Specials,” Arthur went on.

Ada’s brow creased, “To do what?”

“To clean up the city, Ada,” Tommy answered. “He’s a chief inspector. The last four years he’s been clearing the IRA out of Belfast.”

“How do you know so bloody much?” Arthur asked acusatoringly.

“‘Cause I asked the coppers on our payroll.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

Tommy continued to stare at his older brother, shrugging slightly, “I’m telling you.”

Arthur fumed, taking a swig of his flask as Polly asked, “So why are they sending him to Birmingham?”

“Well, there’s been all these bloody strikes at the BSA and the Austen works lately,” Tommy explained. Ada shared a quick look with you, knowing that it was Freddie who had a hand in most of those strikes. “Now the papers are talking about sedition, and revolution. I reckon it’s communist they’re after.”

“So this copper’s gonna leave us alone, right?” Polly followed up.

Tommy chanced a look with you before easily answering her question.

“There are Irishmen in Green Lanes who left Belfast to get away from him. They say Catholic men who crossed him used to disappear in the night.”

“Yeah, but we ain’t IRA,” John chimed in. “We bloody fought for the king. Anyway, we’re Peaky Blinders. We’re not scared of coppers.”

“He’s right,” Arthur added.

“If they come for us, we’ll cut them a smile each.”

“So, Arthur, is that it?” Tommy asked, ignoring his younger brother.

Arthur pointed toward you. “Her.” Your brow rose as everyone turned to look at you. “Was the powder trick her idea?”

Tommy’s brow furrowed, “Like I told you this morning–”

“You brought her in to help us with the company. Ever since she got here you’ve been reckless. We don’t fuck with the Chinese!”

You rose your finger, “I’d like to point out that I have no idea what a powder trick even is–”

“Y/N is only doing what we agreed to,” Tommy answered honestly. “I’ll have no more talk of it.”

Arthur huffed, still staring daggers at his brother.

“You have nothing more to say to this meeting, Thomas?” Polly asked, breaking the tension between them.

Tommy shook his head. “No. Nothing that’s women’s business.”

You rose a brow to that, curious what business was unfit for either you or his aunt to be privy to.

Polly narrowed on him. “This whole bloody enterprise was women’s business while you men were away at war. What’s changed?”

“We came back.”

“How could you let him do it?”

Polly stormed into your flat that night, pulling off her black veil that she typically wore to the church.

“Uh, sure, come on in Pol,” you joked, motioning for her to come in despite her already standing in the middle of your room with her hands on her hips.

“Tommy told me about the guns.”

You sobered up real fast at that, closing the door.

“You have to convince him to get rid of them – throw them in the Cut.”

Taking a deep breath, you moved to prepare you both a cup of tea. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Talk to him, he’ll listen to you. Do you know how much trouble he’ll be in if he’s caught with those guns, or selling them for that matter? He’ll hang!”

You swallowed, the severity sinking in. You knew that Tommy was going through every possibility that these guns could serve him.

“You know I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, but I can’t make Tommy do anything, Polly. You know that better than anyone.”

She huffed, the sound of surrender as she knew you were right. She ran her hand across her forehead. “This copper is going to be trouble. I can feel it.”

You had to meet Harry early the next morning. He’d closed early due to the mess Danny had caused and you offered to help him clean up. You were sweeping the floors when the door opened.

A woman came in and you stopped her, “Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closed–”

“I’m here about the job as a barmaid,” she said with a polite smile.

You appraised the woman before you. She was beautiful, her features soft and polished. Her blonde hair stood out against the others in the town.

A pang of jealousy filled you immediately, but you pushed it aside. You’d already convinced yourself that this place needed more help, and that no one was going to encroach on your territory. But dammit, why’d she have to be so pretty.

“Y/N,” you offered her a smile and your hand.

She reciprocated, “Grace.”

“Harry!” you shouted, listening for Harry to come back from downstairs. “This is Grace. She’s here about the barmaid position.”

“Are you mad?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“Am I what?”

“Job’s been filled.”

He turned back and you shared a confused look with Grace, knowing that the role hadn’t been filled, unless he’d hired someone without letting you know.

She took a step forward, “It was in an advertisement in yesterday’s paper.”

“Believe me, love,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m doing you a favor.”

“I’m not asking for favors, I’m asking for employment.”

You couldn’t help the small smirk on your cheek at her response. “Do you have any experience?”

“And references,” she replied, opening her bag and handing you her papers. “I worked in a pub in Dublin.”

Harry walked over toward you, looking over your shoulder at her papers. “What part of Ireland are you from?” he asked.

“Galway.”

He hummed, “my mother was from Galway.”

“She does have experience,” you commented. “That’s better than any of the others who’ve come in to apply.”

“I can’t have two pretty women in my pub. The coppers will think I’m runnin’ a brothel.”

You shared a look with Grace, sighing at the real reason Harry didn’t want to hire her.

She straightened as she took off her hat. “Watch. And listen.”

Your brow knitted curiously as she picked up the spit bucket, then she began to sing.

“I wish I was in Carrickfergus, only for nights in Ballygrand.

I would swim over, the deepest ocean. The deepest ocean, for my love to find.

My boyhood friends and my own relations, have all passed on now, like the melting snow.”

She sat down the spit bucket, now filled with the spatoons she’d dumped inside as she sang. You and Harry shared a surprised look. Her singing really was magical, and the jealousy you’d been fighting off rose back up like vile in your throat.

“In Ireland, my singing made them cry and stopped them fighting.”

Harry chuckled, “I hope you know a lot of songs.”

Grace nodded, smiling as she looked back toward you hopeful.

You smiled back at her encouragingly, but something in your gut pulled at you to take caution. Something about her felt very disingenuous – she felt too polite, too posh, nothing at all like the other people you’d met in town since you’d arrived.

You tried to convince yourself it was your jealousy, that you were being territorial, all the things you’d been afraid of – but something deeper felt off.

Like you weren’t the only one here with secrets.

“This investigator isn’t messing around,” Tommy commented as you brushed Monaghan Boy’s coat.

It was just the two of you at the Yard, Charlie and Curly were on guard. Tommy used your interest in visiting the horse as his cover to check in on the crates, which hadn’t been touched since you left it the other night.

“Our coppers say he made a big speech about taking down the Peaky Blinders and Fenians and Communists,” he continued. “Said he doesn’t trust any of them, and brought in his own brigade of men.”

“This is getting serious, Tommy. Aren’t you worried?”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I’m told he didn’t serve. Reserved occupation—“

“Tommy!” Curly ran toward you, “It’s Arthur. He’s been beat bad!”

You handed Curly the brush and hurried alongside Tommy, who led the way back toward the Lane. He stopped first at the Garrison to grab some rum – said it was the best for disinfection. You disagreed, but didn’t dare argue with his determination in the moment. The pub was packed, but the minute Tommy walked in, the crowded moved aside.

He snaked through the snug and opened the window as you pushed your way behind the bar.

“Doesn’t matter what kind, just any bottle,” he shouted, causing Harry and Grace to look toward him.

“What are you doing, I thought you were off this morning?” Grace asked you, looking between you and Tommy.

“I am,” you added, searching the shelf for an unopened bottle.

You heard Harry whisper to Grace that whatever it is, it’s on the house. Tommy sat some money down on the window seal anyway, which Grace moved to collect.

“Ready?” you said after finally finding the bottle. Tommy nodded, giving one last look to Grace before turning to leave.

“If I say something’s on the house,” you heard Harry say to Grace as you moved to leave, “then say nothing to whoever you’re serving. If they decide that they want you, there’s nothing anybody could do about it. Lucky for you, Tommy there hasn’t looked at anyone other than Y/N since he got back.”

You couldn’t help the swell in your chest and smirk on your lips as you gripped the bottle and made your exit from the pub.

Your smirk immediately fell when you arrived at the Shelby house to the sight of Arthur beat up and bloody.

“I’m not bloody chocking, am I?”

“You will when I wrap this cloth around your neck,” Ada said back to the older brother as she poured boiling water into a bowl.

“Let me see him,” Tommy announced, opening the bottle of rum and ringing out a rag. Arthur took a swig of the bottle before Tommy took it back, pouring some onto the rag and pushing it against a nasty gash above his eye.

Arthur hissed as Tommy reassured him he was alright, then grabbed his arm. “He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. National interest, he said. Something about a robbery.”

Tommy pushed away from him, taking a few steps backwards to breathe.

“Who?” You asked innocently, moving to help Polly and Ada tend to some of his other cuts.

“The inspector,” Ada answered.

Your mouth fell again, surprised that an officer did this, and realizing just exactly how out of your depth you may be.

“He said he wants us to help him,” Arthur continued, still watching Tommy as he leaned against the counter.

“We don’t help coppers,” John commented.

Arthur pointed to his younger brother. “He knew all about our war records. He said we’re patriots, like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears.”

“Was this before or after he beat you to a pulp?” You scoffed, mostly to yourself. John breathed out a laugh, but Arthur remained serious.

“I said—“ he hissed again as Polly bandaged up his hand. “I said we’d have a family meeting and take a vote.”

He waited a beat, watching Tommy until his head dropped down to his hand.

“Why not? Hmm?” Arthur asked when Tommy still didn’t say anything. “We have no truck with Fenians or communists.”

Tommy continued to remain silent.

“What’s wrong with ya?” Arthur asked, then looked to you. “What’s wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with him lately?” He finally asked, directing the last question to Polly.

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s chemists,” she replied looking back at Tommy with that cut throat disapproving glare.

Arthur set his sights on you, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. That it was you — you were what was wrong with him lately.

After you all got him relatively cleaned up, he left and grumbled something about getting back his money’s worth. You didn’t ask what he meant by that. Ada and John soon followed, leaving just you, Polly, and Tommy left in the kitchen.

Polly gave you a pointed look before leaving.

“Tommy—“ you began the minute you two were alone.

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Did you see Arthur’s face? And this guy wants your help,” you scoffed, dropping into the seat. “This man has to be insane.”

“And desperate,” Tommy added. “This changes our plans. They’ve shown their hand. We can use this. If they want them back this bad, they’ll have to pay.”

You blinked. “You think you can extort from this guy? God, you really would make a great politician, you know that?”

He shook his head. “This is our ticket for legitimacy.”

“In what world?” You all but laughed, thinking of the irony that something legitimate could come from theiving and blackmailing.

“In this one! This is the way of the world!” He softly exclaimed. Despite the two of you being alone in the house, he still felt the need to be discreet.

You took a deep breath. “I understand that you believe the only way to get ahead is to play dirty, but this — you saw your brother’s face. This guy isn’t messing around. And Winston Churchill. I mean, that’s serious business. He’s the fucking prime minister—“ Tommy’s brow creased, and you shook your head. “I mean, he— he could be one day. He’s just, he’s— he’s powerful, I mean.”

“Fortune drops something valuable into your lap, you don’t just dump it on the bank of the Cut,” Tommy said strongly.

You swallowed, knowing there was no talking him out of it. “Okay. What’s your plan.”

“In France, I learned that it was frivolous to have a concrete plan. You had to adapt at a moment’s notice to survive. My Kimber plan remains, this just may be an opportunity to further my original goal.”

“Alright,” you conceded.

You held his gaze for a moment before he sat down and took your hand. “This is good, Y/N. This is our chance.”

Outside of Birmingham, the new Inspector walked into an art museum, approaching a blonde woman wearing a large hat.

“Are you in position?”

Grace rose her head, “I am, sir.”

“First impression?”

“I’m quite shocked at how these people live. Have you found anything out that might help me?”

“I interrogated the head of the Peaky Blinders. He didn’t know anything. A brute.”

Grace hummed. “It strikes me that it isn’t Arthur who heads the Shelby family. It’s the younger one, Thomas. They say he won two medals for gallantry in the war.”

“You sound fascinated,” Inpector Campbell commented, raising a brow.

“There’s a woman at the bar. She seems very close with the family. I believe she may be my gate to learn more. However, my opinion has not changed. The bookmaker gangs have other business, and the communists are too weak to have planned this. I believe the guns were taken by the IRA.”

He hummed. “You must not let your personal history cloud your judgement.”

“What history?” Grace countered. “That the IRA murdered my father will not affect my judgement.”

“If you see any guns, check the serial numbers against that list,” he slipped a folded paper in her hands. “Your father was the finest officer I ever worked with. I know he’d be very proud of you.”

Back in Birmingham, you were helping Polly with the books when Tommy walked in, blood splattered across his white collar. You knew what this meant — Danny was gone.

He’d accidentally killed someone during another fit. An Italian whose family wanted revenge. Tommy had promised to dispatch of him himself, with the Italians as witness.

“Where are ya!” Arthur shouted from the other end of the empty shop. He slammed a paper in front of Tommy. “It bloody won! Monaghan Boy bloody won!”

“Yeah. It won. And word will spread. So the next time we do the powder trick, it won’t just be the Garrison that’ll bet on the horse. It’ll be the whole of Small Heath. And you know what? The horse will win again. And the third time we do it, we’ll have the whole of Birmingham betting on it. A thousand quid bet on the magic horse. And that time, when we’re ready, the horse will lose.” Arthur only stared at him as Tommy shut the book he’d opened. “Think about it.”

He walked the book over toward you and Polly, dropping it to the table along with a bag of coins.

Polly picked it up, judging the weight. “Bad week?” Tommy didn’t reply. “There was no moon last night, I checked. Did you do the right thing?”

“Yes,” he replied, meeting your eyes. “I did the right thing.”

God, you hoped he did.

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #fanfic #Mine #time after time

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year ago

Note

K, darling!! I'm sending you this one, because you sent me a gif, too ❤️❤️.

Probably Tommy is struggling with something, too. Feel you, Tom 🤝.

Thanks for sending this my way, Flor!! I truly feel Tommy here…this have been my exact reaction when thinking about writing/wanting to write these past few weeks - it’s gotten a bit better since you’ve sent this, but I still can’t help but struggle slightly from hour to hour. Since you went lighthearted on the gif I sent you, I figured I’d do the same here. I…really don’t know what came of it - like I said, writing has been hour to hour for me. But I hope you’ll maybe get a laugh from it. ☺️. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

A Much Welcomed Distraction

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, smoking

Summary: (Y/N) tries to get Tommy’s mind off of the work he’s been struggling with. Tommy, for once, accepts the distraction, until he realizes that maybe he will have to finish his work first.

No matter what he did, the words wouldn’t come out right. He’d been trying to figure out how to address the receiver of this letter for at least an hour now. Who would have thought that it’d be hard to write to the fucking Prime Minister of England? Tommy certainly didn’t upon initially thinking of the idea. Now here he was, stuck after a paragraph as he wondered if his word choice would be correct enough to get Winston Churchill to actually want to finish reading it.

He was so invested in his writing - or his attempt to do so - that he didn’t even hear the door opening. It wasn’t until he heard the voice of his wife that he looked up: “Lizzie told me you’d be in here.”

Tommy only nodded, just barely glancing up at her before focusing on the paper again. He didn’t miss the sound of her footsteps approaching the desk though.

“What’re you working on?” she asked him, coming to his side and leaning against the desk to take a look at the paper in front of him.

“A much needed letter,” he answered, exhaling a bit of a sigh as he slouched back against his chair. He could feel her lean in closer, perhaps to take a better look at the letter.

“Dear Mr. Churchill…” she started off, reading in a formal tone. There was a bit of a pause before the sound of her heels turning on the hardwood was heard, “you’re writing to the bloody Prime Minister, Tommy?” she asked, a bit of surprise laced into her words.

“I am, yes,” he answered her with a nod, glancing up at her before continuing, “expect there hasn’t been much writing happening,” he ended his statement with a sigh, bringing his left hand up to run across his face before he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Well I can see why…it isn’t every day you write a letter to a man of that standing,” (Y/N) commented, her words making Tommy exhale a snort; one that she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at, “it’s an extraordinary feat, Tommy…I certainly wouldn’t know what to say,” she defended herself.

“It needs to get written,” he mumbled, reaching out to grab the half spent cigarette from the ashtray so that he could take a deep drag from it, “and it needs to happen before any other order of business comes up,” he concluded, smoke accompanying his words as he uttered them. He finished his stressed statement off with another drag before snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray. He then sat back again, exhaling another frustrated huff as he did so.

“I see…” (Y/N) trailed off, nodding her head in understanding. She had an inkling of a thought that this was business related. With every move Tommy made, he had to do the background work to make sure that it was well calculated and would turn out the way he wanted it to. Oftentimes he’d frustrate himself in the process of completing that background work. “It isn’t worth beating yourself up over though, I’m sure. Take a break, maybe?” she suggested. It didn’t come as much of a surprise that his reaction to her suggestion was an incredulous one.

“Hmm,” he hummed at her statement, and (Y/N) couldn’t really discern if it was a hum of agreement, or of disapproval.

“Maybe I can take your mind off of it then?” she offered another suggestion, biting on her lip to stop the grin from forming when his eyes snapped up to her face. “You liked the sound of that, didn’t you?” she questioned, letting her grin show as she sat her hand flat on the desk and leaned her weight against it.

“Love, I need to write this letter,” Tommy stayed steadfast on his priorities. Despite the dismay in his tone, he didn’t exactly disagree with her suggestion.

“Doesn’t seem to be much writin’ going on,” (Y/N) quipped back, her words making him quirk an eyebrow in her direction.

They held each others stares until Tommy exhaled another sigh. After running a hand over his face, he dragged his eyes up to her. “What do you have in mind?” he asked, his words coaxing a grin from his wife.

“I’m happy you asked,” she chirped, moving to sit down on his lap. Tommy welcomed her with open arms, his hands falling onto her hips so that she would be secure. “I was just thinking that maybe I’d give you a kiss…” she paused, her hands falling onto his shoulders before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, “…or two…” she kissed him again. A look of amusement formed on Tommy’s face. “And that maybe those kisses would help some ambition for writing to return,” she concluded, going in for a slightly longer kiss then.

“I thought you were working to distract me from writing, love?” he questioned her intentions when she pulled away.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle at his question. “I wouldn’t exactly say distract…” she paused, lifting her one hand to tap on her chin as a physical show that she was thinking on how to finish her statement, “instead maybe I’m giving you a taste of what’s to come later,” she ended off her statement with a quick, suggestive glance; one that Tommy most certainly didn’t miss.

“A taste?” he asked another question, his eyebrows now raised.

“Yes. Of what’s to come later…after you finish writing your letter,” she added more detail, biting on her lip as she watched to see if he’d catch the stipulation that she’d thrown in there.

“After?” the inflection in his voice showed that he most certainly caught the stipulation.

“Of course,” (Y/N) responded like it was no big deal, “you said it yourself, it needs to get written before any other order of business comes up…” she trailed off then, a smirk full on across her features now.

The way he was clenching his jaw told her that she was grinding all of the right gears inside of him at this moment. It honestly egged her on even more.

“(Y/N)…” he tried, a bit of a warning tone laced into his voice. It didn’t deter (Y/N) from her plan in the slightest though. She leaned in and kissed his lips one last time before managing to free herself from his grasp so that she could stand up.

“I said that I’d get your mind off of it…and I think that I just did. Don’t keep me waiting up, Mr. Shelby,” she sent him an innocent smile as she backed away from his desk. Tommy said nothing as she backed herself all the way over to where the sitting area of his office was. There, she grabbed her coat and put it on. Then she blew him one last kiss before turning and walking to the door without looking back.

Tommy didn’t exhale the sigh he was holding in until the door shut. He then looked back down to the paper sitting on his desk, wracking his brain in hopes that sentences would form. “Dear Mr. Churchill…” he mumbled to himself before he began writing like his hand had been possessed by another being; coming out with words and sentence structures that he couldn’t begin to think of earlier. On second thought…maybe it had been possessed by another being.

Either way, he managed to write the letter in its entirety without taking a break or even looking towards the clock. Considering it a done deal, he left it on the desk for himself to proofread tomorrow. Now he needed to get home to his wife, who had provided a much welcomed distraction and got him back on track.

———

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

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dulceslilacwine · 4 months ago

Text

black beauty

dallas winston x reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none! just some angst i guess?

authors note: this is sort of based on lana del rey's song black beauty :) i think i'll be basing a lot of my oneshots off of songs until i can conjure up some more plots! also, i know the grammar isn't perfect let me live!!! btw I'm not sure if I'll write a part two to this or not

years had passed since you last saw dallas, it hurt more than anything keeping away from him, but you knew you couldn't do anything about it. memories of the last night you had spent with him haunted you, kept you awake at night, and sometimes brought you to tears to the point where all you could do was lay in bed, staring at the wall wondering if you could've done anything to keep your relationship.

eventually, you learned to live with it. you didn't cry every night, you could sleep a few more hours than before, the pain was still there but you learned to numb it as much as you could. you decided to turn your heartbreak into something else, something that people would listen to, that he would possibly hear.

your friends all thought you were talented, that out of all the greasers you had something going, you would get out of tulsa and live freely, without a worry in the world. many told you to go to open mic nights, sign up for talent shows, sing in the church, anything or anywhere that someone other than just your friends would be able to listen to your voice, but you always refused. you had thought about wanting to sing but quickly snapped out of those thoughts as it would be near impossible to make it big, especially considering where you were from. the only person who ever got you to attend an open mic night was dallas, at a random bar in town.

the two of you were in your room, an elvis record played in the background while you talked, it was getting late and you were starting to get bored after being inside all day, dallas just arrived a few minutes after you decided to call it a night. he suggested going to a bar, and you agreed, wanting to spend some more time with him and he drove to the bar which had a notice on the door saying "open mic night, come sing!"

the two of you talked, and he drank a beer while you sipped on a daiquiri, not with much enjoyment but as the night went on, you and dallas judged the singers, people watched and enjoyed each other's company, and you began to like the drink. when you were on your second one, dallas suggested you go and sing a song. you said no about five times, telling him you were nervous.

"come on, doll, i've heard you sing before, you've got a pretty voice," he told you, he had heard you sing before, but that wasn't the reason behind the nervousness, you had never sung in front of a crowd of people you didn't know, the thought of them not liking how you sounded frightened you. another person went up to sing, you had just finished your second daiquiri, and once again, dallas suggested you sing.

you gave in because of the liquid courage, you put your name on the list with the song you wanted to sing, stupid cupid by connie francis. it seemed fitting as it was the beginning of february and everyone had been singing songs relating to love, whether it be about a broken heart or a love confession, you decided to be on theme.

you had your moment, up on the makeshift stage, some people sang along quietly, and you earned some claps and whistles, satisfied with yourself you went back to where dallas was sitting.

"told you, the people liked your singin','' he told you, his arm wrapping around your waist before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

that night had been just a little over two years. the night you remember the most out of all was the last night you spent together.

for two weeks before that, you had felt him getting distant. you tried not to worry so much over it, you two had been together for almost a year and you constantly heard people talking about how sometimes in long relationships there will be times one person can be distant, there isn't a spark like there was before, one or the other could get bored but it was all a matter of staying together and working through these times. you thought it was just that, so you didn't pay any mind to it.

he came over to talk to you, that was what he said when he called to check if you were home. when you opened your door and saw his face, you noticed he didn't smile at you like he usually did. with no kiss from him, he walked in and you two sat in your living room.

"I think it's the best for us to end things, doll." you saw in his face how he noticed your eyes were starting to tear up. "why, dal?'' you asked with a shaky voice, hoping you wouldn't cry in front of him. "it's for the better of us," he told you, he had an expression you couldn't read, he looked so calm but at the same time bored.

all you could do was nod, walk him to the door, and whisper an "I love you," before closing the door. the days after seemed like a blur, you couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat, and you didn't want to do anything, not read, write, listen to music, or get out of bed.

but that was months ago and today, you were going to meet with a journalist for an interview that would be going in the newspapers. you were excited, after all, you couldn't believe how far you had gotten in only a few months after the release of your first record.

"so, tell us about the song people have been most interested in, black beauty, what is it about?" the man asked. i took a moment to think about how to word everything because that was the first song i wrote and it meant a lot to me. "it's mostly about myself but a partner i had a few years back inspired it. things didn't end in the best way, i was left with a lot of questions and it left me in a horrible state for a few months, i forgot how beautiful life was because i let the sadness consume me. eventually, i started to live normally, well as best as one could after such a big heartbreak," i joked, trying to not sound too serious. "i wrote it after looking back on everything and thinking 'wow I was really in a bad place' and once again turning that into even more of a realization of me being able to enjoy life once again.”

౨ৎ

"you won't believe who's on the paper!" ponyboy told johnny, walking into the living room of his house and taking a seat next to his friend.

"who?" johnny asked, taking a peek at the newspaper pony was holding. he smiled upon seeing the black-and-white picture of the girl the gang had spent so much time around before.

the pair read the newspaper, making comments here and there on the answers to the questions. when they had finished reading the last column about the song black beauty they turned to look at each other seemingly connecting some dots in their heads. "do you think she wrote it about dally?" ponyboy asked and before johnny could answer they heard the door open, revealing dallas who was smoking a cigarette.

they turned quiet, dally took notice and saw the newspaper in ponyboys hand. "anything good?" he asked, taking a seat on the couch. "see for yourself," ponyboy answered, handing him the newspaper.

dallas raised an eyebrow at him as he grabbed the paper and read it. he thought it was gonna be some boring story, but his eyes widened as he read your name and about your song.

he regretted leaving you, it was always a constant thought in his head even after two years. the guilt of it ate at him every day, especially when he heard the gang talking about how you hadn’t been doing well after the break-up, they avoided saying your name or mentioning how you were doing, but sometimes when dally would leave for a moment they took it as a chance to talk about you.

it hurt him to know he was the cause of your pain but he knew it would be for the better. he thought you deserved better, somebody who could give you more.

ponyboy and johnny watched him as he read the paper trying to grasp what was going through his mind.

“I’m glad she’s doin’ good.” dallas said, handing the paper back to pony.

“do you think it’s about you?” ponyboy asked. dally looked at him for a moment before replying. “maybe,” he said with a shrug. he knew it was about him, he knew how you wrote poems when something affected you, he thought only this time you chose to make something bigger out of the pain.

although you got where you wanted to be, there was always something missing. you thought of him every day, what he was doing, how he was feeling, if he even remembered you. in every letter you wrote to one of the guys from the gang, you asked about dallas, they all wrote back with seemingly the same response. he was alright, still causing trouble where he could and whatnot.

a few weeks after that interview, johnny received a letter from you. you updated him on the things going on in your life, you asked how he was doing, and what the gang was up to but most importantly you asked him to tell dally you said hello.

johnny kept the letter folded up in the pocket of his jean jacket, waiting for a chance to show it to dallas. the gang decided to go to the drive-in that night, johnny went over to the curtis household to show ponyboy the letter. sodapop was there when johnny got to the house and the boys read the letter.

"are you gonna tell him she said hi?" soda asked, taking a bite of his sandwich. "well she asked me to, so i have to." the boy replied. he nodded and ponyboy chimed in. "do you think he'll take it well?" "possibly, there's no hiding the fact he still cares for her. you saw his face when he read that paper about her." "i think he'll be happy, i know dally likes showing off as tough but you could tell he really loved her. do you remember his face whenever he brought her up? i still don't get why he decided to leave her." the boys agreed with soda and left the conversation at that.

"hey, i got a letter today that you might wanna read." johnny told dally nervously, taking the letter out of his pocket and unfolding it before handing it to him. dally was confused, but he took the letter from johnny and began reading it. he immediately recognized your handwriting and he was even more confused as to why johnny was making him read the letter that was clearly not for dallas, for a moment he thought johnny was taunting him. it wasn't until he got to the last few lines that he realized why johnny had him read it.

he handed the letter back without saying a word and was quiet during the whole movie, the gang quickly noticed but didn't mention it, because they knew why. at the end, when they were walking out, dallas turned to johnny.

"you think you could give me her address so i can write to her?"

#60s #80s #the outsiders #dallas winston #the outsiders 1983 #dallas #dallas winston x reader #the outsiders x reader #dally winston #the outsiders dally #oneshot #dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston imagine

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geordikisser · 5 months ago

Text

brat taming | tanner | 18+

epilogue: you have a horrible potty mouth and tanner doesn’t necessarily miiiiind that, or at all ever! until it’s towards him and he loves a power struggle soo ^_^ he doesn’t mind proving you wrong.

content contains! biting/marking, degrading, power struggle, jealous! tanner ..

⤷ afab anatomy used but gender isn’t specified! sorry ..

petnames used: sugar, honey, babe, baby, hunnybunny, slut, whore

you were live and playing some overwatch on tanners set up. he was downstairs, watching on his laptop. you were on dps and played tracer. you weren’t doing entirely horrible but your team was horrible. ☹️

“yall say hear me out and it’s on a conventionally attractive character bruh shut up.” you say mid laugh as you see the big fat ‘defeat’ on your screen. you felt so tempted to explode something. you join team chat and immediately shit on your team with every diabolical and tos friendly insults you can think of.

something you said made tanners stomach knot up. in a negative way .. the way your other teammate endorsed it sexually made him extremely like .. jealous?? is what he would call it.

bigTstreamingservice: WOAH!!!!!! ❌❌ BAD!!!! DONT SAYTHAT!!!!! 👎

“tanner shut your yap!! i say what i want. bitch.” you imitate a spit sound as you enter the practice range, now bored.

bigTstreamingservice: oh word 🤨

he types in chat as you snort. “on lone. tuh.” you emphasize you smacking your lips.

tanner finds himself getting up and walking to his room shortly after. you were searching on youtube for a subway surfers game footage to entertain your chat as you tell them a story. you’re laughing your ass off as you tell some random ass story.

“my name is larry ‘jamal’ croft winston.. i’m 17 years old.. —“ you quickly were cut off by an unsettling noise behind you.

you hear the door crack behind you, slowly spinning around in the chair. “hellou.” you say calmly. tanner can’t help but laugh his ass off. “THE ENERGY SWITCH??” he screams as you scoff. “WHAT ENERGY SWITCH? I NEVER SWITCH UP.” you say in a specific tone that just adds fuel to the flame of his laughter. “YES YOU DO?” he smiles, exhaling heavily.

he pulls a chair and sits besides you, towering over you slightly. “how’s it cooking, good lookin’.” he smiles at you all goofy. “you tryna find out?” you grumble. “100%. are you muted?” he asks as you double check quickly before giving him a ‘no’.

“bye.” he replied, smiling a bit. “i forgor..” you drool as he takes the mouse and reopens overwatch. “overwatch time!! i’ll coach you.” he huffs confidently. “girl there’s footage of you playing overwatch, i think i’ll be good.” you side eye him as he gives you a dimly look back.

“dude. shut up.” you stammer as he lets out a laugh. you queue up for a game and tanners hand ends up on your inner thigh, squeezing it comfortably. “DON’T TOUCH ME CREEP!!” you exclaim, loud enough for someone next door to hear it. he jumped and slowly turned to you, unhappy.

you begin to get frustrated at overwatch slowly and started slamming your hands on the desk like a little toddler and trying to reason with tanner each time you died or did a terrible play, him smiling and nodding.

“i hate you omg, I HATE FLASHBANG.” you whine as you squirm in your chair. he huffs out a breathy laugh as he fixes his hair, pulling it back. “who could hate this?” he says comically. “ME!” you retort almost instantly.

eventually, stream ends. you wrap it up due to tanners unsettling aura at the moment, you hope what you said didn’t actually upset him.

you turn to him and smile, “hai.” you coo out as he smiles in return. “hey hunnybunny, how are you?” he asks as he reaches for your thigh again, holding it gently. “i’m alright. overwatch sucks without friends..” you sigh out. he grimaced slightly.

tanner recently developed jealously problems that he was self aware of. he never saw himself as a jealous person, he’s really goofy and silly! until he got with you, he never realized how jealous he got over small things anyway, it was mild at the moment. he wishes he could’ve played with you instead of issac. (the person you played with)

“you could’ve played with me y’know.” he grumbled, attempting to hide this feeling. he trusted you and isaac equally, he had no reason not to. but it’s inevitable for him he feels.

you look up at him with a raised brow. he analyzes your expression and scratches the back of his neck. “cuz.. i can carry you.” he smiles awkwardly, his gaze leaving yours. “you sound a little green-eyed there tanner.” you grin.

“stop.” he groans softly as he turns away entirely. “you jealous, baby?” you lean forward. he sits there in a resentful silence.

his brows remain furrowed. “you upset isaac is better at overwatch than you?” you egg on. he slowly turns to you. “the same guy who screams when he isn’t healed in one second. that isaac is better than me.” he said more as a statement that question, laughing slightly.

“does 10-10 ring a bell.” you look away like you’re thinking. he sits up and looks at you with bitterness in his eyes, a cocky grin smeared on his face. “baby.” he started. you hum in response. “don’t start this with me.” his breathing hitched. “what are you gonna do about it, hm?” you raise your brow with a grin.

within a instance, tanners hands were on your waist and pulled you into him, kissing you gently on the lips. his tongue exploding down your throat.

you were taken aback from the sudden action and melted slightly into the kiss. realizing his plan.

you pull away quickly, your hands on his chest. “wait.” you scowl. “i see what you’re doing!!” you jump up, his hands slide down off your waist. he raised his brow confused. “what am i doing, sugar.” his tone laced with confidence. your lip quivers as you feel your face heat up. “tanner..” you huff, quietly. he stands up, towering over you once again. he slowly begins to back you up to the bed as you stumble back onto the bed.

your eyes examine his body, the bulge dented in his pants and the pattern his chest heaved up and down in. he was pent up.

“did you want this, tanner?” you grin as he rolls his eyes. “you can cut this act cuz we both know ill shut it down real quick, honey.” he sits down besides you, turns to face you and leans over. kissing you sweetly. you begin to straddle on top of him and holding his face as the kiss gets more passionate and passionate. the bulge in his pants evident against your own crotch.

tanners breath hitches as you grind against his bulge. he leans back slightly as you continue to grind against him. you smile cockily at him as you kiss his jaw. “you’re so sweet for me, tanner.” you say between kisses on his jaw, lowering to his neck. he lets out a little whimper as he begins to grip your hips slightly after. helping you grind against him.

“fuck..” he pants as you caress his cheek. he tugs at the rim of your sweats and you kiss him one final time and begin slip off your own pants, your underwear remaining.

“good..” he smirks as he pushes your back against the bed, taking you aback. you gasp as he is on top of you. “don’t act cute, such a slut.” he giggles as he slips off your undies. “i’m gonna make you forget your name, sweetheart. :3” he kisses your neck, leaving a very prominent mark on it. he lowers his head & begins to tease your hole. his tongue tickling you perfectly. you gulp and let out a heavy sigh, coming out in a shaky tone.

his hands gripping your things as he licks around your clit. you practically chew down onto your lip as your back arches into his mouth. “tanner..” you pant as you told the back of his head and begin grinding into his mouth. he stops.

“nuh uh, sorry baby.” he lifts his head and removes his hold from your thighs and holds your wrists. “you want me to abuse your sweet clit, right?” he hums. you look away, pride slipping down the drain. “y—yeah..” you huff, your eyes shut tightly. “look. don’t touch.” he removes his grab he had on your wrists previously & slaps the side of your thigh. you yelp, growling lowkey afterwards. he giggles as he begins to tongue fuck you. his attention being to your clit and then fucking you with his tongue simultaneously.

“you like that? you like when i fuck your sweet hole with my tongue?” he drags out as you can only whimper in response. “fuck… you—..” you manage to squeeze out as he pulls away to bite your thigh. “keep it cute, slut.” he spits on your abused cunt and sits up, taking off his pants. you flinch at the impact of the spit.

his hard cock flings out & he begins to stroke himself. he lets a string of spit fall to the tip of his cock and covers his cock with his spit. “you ready, baby?” he smiles at you. you nod in response. “no? awww that’s a shame.. you can watch me stroke my hard cock infront of you then.” he pouts slightly. you furrow your brows. “tanner..” you murmur. he raises his brow, humming as he acknowledges you.

“stop being a dick.” you spat in response. he smacks his lips and shakes his head. “no no no baby, that’s not how you answer.” he lowers down to your collar bone and bites down. you exclaim and he covers your mouth.

”tell me you want this dick, like a good whore would.” he pants as he continues to bite down on you. he lifts his hand from your mouth, “i-i want your cock, tanner.” you sob out as the bite marks begin to hurt more. “such a masochist.” he lifts his head and kisses you gently on the lips. “good slut.”

he puts his tip in slowly as his cock melts inside you completely. he groans out as he begins to thrust immediately, giving you zero time to adjust. you didn’t deserve it in his eyes.

you begin to drool and tear up. tanners thrusting pattern is ingrained into your hole. he begins to tend to your nipples and suck on one and tease the other one with his hand. you were already pretty close due to him teasing your clit previously. “m’close..” you whine out, pathetically. he gives you a cute smile in return. making your stomach knot up. “i love you, t—tanner..” you coo out, drunkenly. your tears staining your cheeks. “love so much..” he cries out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“i love you more, baby.” he smiled at you, kissing your cheek, now your lips. you reach your climax, moaning into the kiss. he smiles into the kiss as he pulls away. panting slightly. he pulls out and places his cock on top of your crotch and his cum drips out all over your stomach.

he lies besides you and kisses your shoulders. cuddling you as you feel woozy, recovering slowly but surely. “my sweet baby, took my cock so good for me.” he mumbles between kisses as you try to cuddle into him. he stops you immediately. “wait wait!! i don’t want my jizz on my bed.. let’s get you cleaned, ‘kay?” he grins awkwardly as you whine. “okay..”you huff as you sit up. your belly covered in cum. “my pretty pretty baby. so gorgeous.” he smiled ear to ear, as he leads you to his bedroom.

#the group chat #tgc #tgc x reader #bigt #yumi #isaac why #isaacwhy #softwilly #bigt x reader #smut

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dronebiscuitbat · 2 months ago

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 86)

Uzi was listening to Reida, the woman having enough energy to power a city and then some. But her voice was fading out in favor of her own internal thoughts- or feeling more accurately.

And that was the tingly sensation in her side panel, only getting worse as she continued to sit on Hal and Reida's squishy couch. Her core was pinging relentlessly, even after she'd downed the chilled oil Reida had given her.

She glanced over to where the guy's were talking, for some reason N was blushing heavily, also taking a glance at her, almost like he was nervous.

“You alright girlie?” Whoops, it seemed like Reida noticed her not paying attention, and Uzi jumped slightly, startled by her voice.

“Yeah! Yeah I'm fine. Just… core. You know.” She half-heartedly explained, and Reida gave her a soft smile. “Oh, little babe is pinging? Their about ready then.”

Uzi nodded with a half smile.

“Y-yeah, another month or so, they might actually share a birthday with their dad if we're not careful.” She sucked at small talk normally, but now it was painful. Her body was being too distracting to focus on conversation.

“Oh! How cute! Have you picked out any names yet?” Reida asked, cocking her head to the side and scooting slightly closer to hear her better.

“Ah… kinda? We don't know if their going to be a boy or a girl… but I have a couple that N likes as well…” From the way the older woman was looking at her, she could tell she wanted her to continue, so she sighed, maybe it would be a decent distraction.

“There's, Colt, Winston, and Beanie for boy names. N suggested Beanie, though I'm not sure we'd go with that one, it's a little silly.”

She paused for a moment, before starting again.

“And for girl names we have Ash, Jinx, and Naomi. I'm partial to Naomi, but N likes Jinx better, says it has more ‘Doorman Charm’.”

“Those are all wonderful names! I'm sure you'll pick the one that most suits them!” Reida cheered, and Uzi couldn't help but smile back.

“Thanks. We're trying. We haven't really decided yet, it's been so bu-SY!?” The last syllabull becoming high pitched as she felt a sudden snap in her side panel, it was slightly painful, like something had just given out under pressure.

“Uh, where's your bathroom?” She suddenly asked, an uncomfortable wet feeling beginning to seep from the underneath the panel.

“Right over there dear!” Reida pointed it out, and Uzi scrambled over to it, slamming the door behind her as she let out a strained breath.

With gritted teeth she yanked off her hoodie and tank top, both clinging to her body with how tight they were now, and threw them to the ground, she looked down at her side panel;

She was leaking…

Oil was oozing out from underneath the bottom seam of the panel, dripping a small drop onto the tile floor. With a gasp, she opened it, wincing as the area came in contact with the open air.

The port that allowed her to siphon off oil was openly weaping, the inky black lifeblood seeping out from her gently, she stuck her fingers in the fluid. It was much- much denser then normal, when she rubbed it in her fingers it hung there, stretching between them as she pulled her fingers away from each other.

What the hell?

She probably shouldn't be caught of guard by her body suddenly doing something weird anymore, but somehow she always was, and this was doubly concerning, Tera still needed oil, and if her oil was changing in any way, it may no longer be safe for her to drink.

Not that it didn't already give her the solver… but that wasn't the point.

She sighed, either way, she needed to staunch this flow before she stained everything, thankfully, there was a roll of paper towels sitting on the bathroom counter; and those would have to do.

She came out of the bathroom, re-dressed and her side feeling bulky now that it was stuffed with paper, thankfully, her core had stopped pinging and had fallen still once more, making it a little easier to focus.

She made her way over to N and Tera, tugging on his coat in a way that he knew meant she wanted to leave, he looked down curiously at her, lifting his brow.

[Leave. Talk. Important.] Displayed on her screen breifly, she was trying to resist the urge to rub her side. Ugh, why can't she just be normal!

“Oh, uh. Sorry guys, have to cut this short. Looks like Zi’s not feeling well.” She also hated being the reason they had to leave, N deserved to hang out with other people besides her! But noooo, stupid organic body!

“Say no more, I get it.” Hal smiled, Reida at his side in less then a second. “Take care son.” He slapped his shoulder with a smile.

“You're welcome back any time!” Reida gave them both massive hugs again, squishing them together with an iron grip.

“We'll be back, promise.” Uzi chimed in, she already felt bad enough for cutting this visit short, and she intended to make up for it. But, in another moment, she'd shoved N out the door and they were headed to their apartment for a little… science experiment.

Next ->

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #oil is thicker then blood #nuzi #biscuitbites #tera doorman #agh... shorter then I intended #in other news #next few are actually planned out

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dalilacherie · 4 months ago

Note

Can you please do something about Dally being shown affection for the first time? Preferably from Darry and/or the Curtis parents? Can be a fic, hcs, whatever, just please give my little boy some love.

𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

[𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This story takes place two years before the book because I can't remember if I mentioned that at all in the story. (+ Little Pony because I think his scenes are cute).

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~1,300!!

Inside it was warm and filled with the smell of dinner cooking. It was a chilly evening, and I was just finishing setting the table when the front door creaked open. I expected to see one of my boys, but instead, a disheveled figure stumbled in. It was Dallas Winston, looking more of a mess than usual.

His clothes were dirty and torn, his face bruised, and there was a haunted look in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. "Mrs. Curtis," he mumbled, swaying on his feet.

"Dallas, what happened to you?" I rushed over, catching him just as he started to fall.

"Got into some trouble," he muttered, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

I guided him to the couch, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Sit down, sweetheart. Let me get you something to drink." I hurried to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and grabbing a wet cloth. When I returned, he was slumped over, looking more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him.

I knelt in front of him, gently dabbing at the blood on his face. He flinched at first, then relaxed a little, his eyes watching me warily. "You didn't have to do this," he mumbled.

"Nonsense," I replied softly. "You're hurt, and you need help. We're family here."

He blinked, as if the idea of being part of a family was foreign to him. "Family," he echoed, his voice filled with a mix of longing and disbelief.

"Dallas, you’re always welcome here," I said, my voice firm but kind. "No matter what."

He looked away, biting his lip. "Ain't used to people caring," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I felt my heart break a little for him. "Well, you better get used to it, because we do care. Darry, Ponyboy, Sodapop... and me. We care about you, Dallas."

He didn’t say anything, but I saw the tears welling up in his eyes. I pulled him into a hug, feeling him stiffen at first, then slowly relax into the embrace. "It's okay, Dallas," I murmured. "You're safe here."

He stayed like that for a while, clinging to me like a lifeline. I stroked his back, whispering soothing words until I felt him start to calm down.

The door opened again, and Darry walked in, his eyes widening at the sight of Dallas in my arms. "What happened?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Dallas got into some trouble," I explained. "But he's going to be fine. He's with family now."

Darry nodded, coming over to kneel beside us. "You need anything, Dallas?" he asked, his tone gentle.

Dallas shook his head, but there was a grateful look in his eyes. "Just... thanks," he muttered.

"Anytime, man," Darry replied, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

I could hear Ponyboy's soft footsteps approaching, and I looked up to see my youngest standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide with concern as he took in the scene, Dallas still slumped on the couch with Darry beside him.

"Pony, come here," I called gently, waving him over. He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, clutching something in his small hands. As he got closer, I realized it was his favorite stuffed animal, a well-worn brown bear he'd named Mr. Snuggles.

"Hey, Dally," Ponyboy said softly, his voice tentative. "I brought you something."

Dallas looked up, his expression a mix of confusion and exhaustion. "What's that, kid?"

Ponyboy held out the stuffed bear, his face earnest. "This is Mr. Snuggles. He always makes me feel better when I'm sad or hurt. I want you to have him."

Dallas's eyes widened, and he looked from the bear to Ponyboy, then back again. "Uh, thanks, kid, but I'm too old for stuffed toys," he said, trying to sound tough.

Ponyboy's face fell, his eyes filling with hurt. He looked down at the bear, then back up at Dallas. "But... Mr. Snuggles really helps. I thought he could help you too."

There was a moment of silence, and I could see the internal struggle in Dallas's eyes. Finally, he sighed, reaching out to take the bear from Ponyboy's hands. "Alright. Thanks," he said, his voice softer.

Ponyboy's face lit up with a relieved smile. "You're welcome, Dally. Mr. Snuggles will take good care of you, I promise."

Dallas looked at the bear for a moment, then back at Ponyboy. "Yeah, I bet he will," he said.

Ponyboy beamed, then climbed up onto the couch beside Dallas. "You can keep him as long as you need," he said, patting Dallas on the knee.

Dallas gave a small, almost shy smile. "Thanks, Pony."

I watched the interaction with a warm feeling in my chest. Seeing my boys care for each other like this made me feel hopeful for all of them, especially Dallas. He needed this – needed to know he had people who cared, who would be there for him no matter what.

Darry glanced at me, and I could see the same pride and relief in his eyes. We both knew this was a step forward for Dallas, a small but significant moment of acceptance and love.

"Alright, boys," I said, standing up. "How about we get some dinner on the table? I'm sure everyone's hungry."

Ponyboy hopped off the couch, eager as always. "I'll help, Mom!"

Dallas looked up at me, holding Mr. Snuggles a little tighter. "Thanks, Mrs. Curtis. For everything."

I smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair gently. "Anytime, Dallas. You're family, don't ever forget that."

Darry’s eyes shifted, taking in Dallas's torn and dirty clothes. His jacket, once tough and proud like Dallas himself, was now a tattered mess. Darry’s brow furrowed with concern. “Hang on a sec, Dally,” he said, rising to his feet.

Dallas looked up, confused. “What’re you doin’?”

“Just hold on,” Darry repeated, disappearing into the hallway.

Ponyboy was still hovering nearby, watching everything with wide eyes. I gave him a reassuring smile and a quick hug. “You did good, Pony."

Ponyboy scurried off to the kitchen. I turned back to Dallas, who was eyeing the hallway suspiciously, his fingers still gripping Mr. Snuggles tightly.

Darry returned a moment later, holding a large leather bomber jacket. It was one of his favorites, worn but sturdy, with a timeless look that seemed to suit Dallas perfectly.

“Here,” Darry said, holding the jacket out to him. “Your jacket’s seen better days. Take this.”

Dallas stared at the jacket, then back at Darry. “I can’t take that,” he protested weakly. “It’s yours.”

“I want you to have it,” Darry insisted. “You need it more than I do right now.”

Dallas hesitated, his eyes flicking between Darry and the jacket. Finally, he reached out, taking it with trembling hands. He pulled it on, and despite his rough appearance, the jacket seemed to fit him like it was made for him.

“Thanks, Darry,” Dallas said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down at himself, almost like he didn’t recognize the person wearing the new jacket.

Darry smiled, a rare, gentle smile that softened his usually stern features. “Looks good on you, Dally. Now, how about we get you cleaned up and ready for dinner?”

Dallas nodded, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

Ponyboy came back into the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw Dallas in the new jacket. “Wow, Dally! You look cool!” he exclaimed, his admiration clear.

Dallas chuckled softly, the sound almost foreign after the tension of the evening. “Thanks, kid. You picked a good bear, too.”

Ponyboy beamed, proud of the small part he played in making Dallas feel better.

As we all moved to the kitchen, I felt a sense of warmth and togetherness that filled the house.

#the outsiders #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders headcanons #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #mrs curtis #young dallas winston #the outsiders pre-book #dally winston #little ponyboy #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston headcanons #the outsiders fic #dalilacherie

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