#The Hold Steady Dallas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

quizzicalwriter · 1 year ago

Note

Can u Dallas winston x reader where the reader catches dally flirting with a girl so she ignores him getting mad and he says he loves her makes up and ifyw make it a smut x

Jealousy

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas and his tendency to run away from situations when they get serious leads to hurt feelings, and some pleasure.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. This is filthy. Angst, just a smidge. Kissing, touching, fingering & titty attention. (both reader receiving.)

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 4.2k

Being carted off to a party with Dallas was nothing new in your relationship, or ‘situationship’ - you weren’t sure which fit the situation better if you were being honest with yourself. You’d been seeing Dallas, exclusively, for around five months. It was enough time for you to get relatively close to the guys, most of whom seemed to pity you whenever parties came around.

You’d tried convincing yourself that Dallas’s behavior didn’t bother you, but it did. Anyone with eyes could see the way you’d glare at him whenever he entertained another woman, how he’d smile down at them with his hand loose on their waist. Occasionally one of the guys would come over to distract you, usually Ponyboy or Johnny, both of them knowing Dallas well enough to know his behavior wouldn’t shift just because you were present.

Eventually, you’d get tired, slam a few drinks back courtesy of Buck or whoever hosted the party you found yourself at, and then either leave or find someone to dance with yourself. It was toxic, you knew that, everyone knew that. But the nights when Dallas would hold you, whispering words into your skin as he fucked himself into you, it somehow made it all bearable. In truth, if you were able to come even near the realm of ecstasy Dallas could have you in you’d likely have moved on.

But beyond the pleasure, there were moments that you knew he didn’t share with others. How he’d come to you after a rumble, knuckles bloodied with a busted lip, allowing you to patch him up in silence. You’d check him over, gently cup his jaw in your hands, and look at him, the two of you exchanging silent words until you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Those nights would usually culminate in him resting against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around you as he fell asleep to the steady thump of your heartbeat, finding that his own synced up to yours perfectly.

Just like any other weekend where neither of you had anything to do, you found yourself clamoring into Buck’s T-Bird that Dallas so eagerly stole whenever he had the chance, not that Buck minded it, you never saw the man drive it himself. The way the smoke from his cigarette curled with his smile as he greeted you left you breathless, nearly forgetting to buckle yourself in as he took off toward the direction of a nearby party. As always, whenever you drove with Dallas, one of his hands rested calmly against the steering wheel while the other grasped at your upper thighs, fingers brushing against your clothed cunt whenever he felt the pull to do so - which was often.

After nearly fifteen minutes of driving he pulled up to a house you didn’t recognize, one flooded with various greasers. Despite being parked on the side of the road the heavy scent of cigarettes and cheap liquor flooded your senses, causing you to involuntarily wince as Dallas led you up the lawn, greeting a few people who seemed thrilled to see him. His fingers tucked into the back of your waistband, ghosting over your ass as you both climbed the steps into the house.

If the outside seemed chaotic, the inside of the house was the seventh layer of hell. Not that you hadn’t been to chaotic parties, you were with Dallas for Christ’s sake, but this was a whole different level. The floor felt sticky in various spots, couples all but fucking against nearby walls and corners, the air foggy with a mixture of cigarette and marijuana smoke. Yet somehow, amidst all of the chaos, Two-Bit spotted the both of you, quickly pulling Dallas into a drunken hug before leading you both toward the remainder of the guys.

They all liked you and had been kind enough to you during your relationship with Dallas, some of them feeling a fair bit of pity for you regarding Dallas’s behavior. It was something you noticed but preferred not to mention, you didn’t want to be the focus of their pity or some girl Dallas carted around. Luckily for you, both Ponyboy and Johnny seemed to like you the most, the two chatted you up as soon as you made yourself visible, both speaking about something they’d come across earlier in the day.

You made yourself comfortable, which was easy in their presence, moving to sit on the couch beside them as you chatted back with them. Time always seemed to pass quickly whenever you were around all of them, they felt like a second family to you, something you appreciated more than you could say. As you crossed your legs under yourself, Ponyboy said something funny, making you tilt your head back as you laughed, you then quickly looked for Dallas, knowing he would’ve found it funny as well.

Only he wasn’t there.

The density of the crowd made it impossible to seek him out, you turned to the side, looking between the rest of the guys in hopes that he was possibly speaking to one of them. But he wasn’t. Johnny quickly picked up your behavior, patting your shoulder as he began speaking about something else, hoping to take your mind off of it. But your mind didn’t register anything he said, your heart sinking in your chest the longer Dallas was out of your line of sight.

“I’m sorry, Johnny. I’ll be right back.” You murmured, gently smoothing your hand over his shoulder as you moved to stand. You hadn’t noticed that Ponyboy followed behind you, his eyes having caught on Dallas far sooner than yours had - and what he saw he knew would piss you off. So he did what he thought was best, he quickly moved in front of you, trying his best to guide you back to the couch. You lifted yourself onto your toes, having been through this charade with Ponyboy before. You looked toward the kitchen, figuring if anything Dallas could’ve gone to fetch himself a drink, it was just your luck that you could see over Ponyboy’s shoulder when you stood on your toes.

There he was, just beyond Ponyboy’s shoulder as the boy tried desperately to block your vision, an apologetic look written across his face. He seemed to sense it, you noticing Dallas, his smile quickly shifting into a frown as he backed away. There was nothing he could say, him or Johnny. What could they say to you at the sight of Dallas kissing another woman?

You weren’t sure what bothered you more, her hands on his chest or his fingers tangled in her hair. It reminded you of how you two were, how his hands often threaded their way through your hair whenever he couldn’t get enough of how you tasted. Was that what was happening with her? Was she just as addictive as you? Could he not get enough of her?

The thought made you sick, propelling you forward until you were ripping the random woman away by the back of her jacket, ignoring the plethora of curses directed your way as her side made contact with the lip of the nearby counter. Dallas seemed confused, angry even, until his eyes landed on you.

“Fuck.”

That was all he managed, and for some reason it made you laugh. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all, being driven to a party by Dallas only to witness him kissing a girl with such intensity that her lipstick was smeared around her lips - and consequently his. You backed away from him then, shoving your way through the dense crowd as you made your way outside. The shouts from the guys didn’t go unnoticed, but even they knew there was no stopping you.

The night air felt cool, near stark in contrast to the heat that burned against your cheeks and chest. Embarrassment, shame, and a twinge of jealousy. Jealousy at the fact that you weren’t enough, you never had been. If you could patch him up, hold him against your chest, reassure him whenever his mind became too much all for it to still not be enough for him, what else could you do?

You felt the tears against your cheek before your mind had even registered that you’d been crying, ragged sobs tearing their way from your chest. The parking lot was a mess, as it always was whenever greasers made their way to a party. You bumped into several cars, hands beside yourself to help you maneuver through them all through the tears.

It wasn’t too long of a walk home, you could make it, no problem. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of as you wiped at your face yet again, thoroughly pissed off at yourself at the state of your makeup being smeared across your eyes. You’d almost made it to the street before you felt a hand wrap around your upper arm, causing you to jerk to a stop.

“Doll, please-“ Dallas started, voice strained as he looked down at you. You were having none of it, you were done. This was not going to be another night where he gave you a half-assed apology and you shoved down the emotions you desperately didn’t want to show.

“No, fuck you. Seriously-“ You groaned out, shoving him away harshly by his chest, causing his back to hit the metal of a nearby car. “Fuck you for making me think I’m anything more than a quick fuck.”

You could feel tears burning in your eyes, skewing your vision of Dallas as he stood with parted lips, cigarette burning down to the filter as the ash fell to the gravel below him. You wiped at your eyes, silently cursing at yourself to stop crying as you turned away from him, only to feel a warm hand against your shoulder.

“Doll, I-“ He started, his words quickly cut off as you shoved his hand from your body, anger, and disgust written across your face even as your cheeks were wet with tears.

“No, Dallas. You don’t get to apologize for this, I’m hurt. Okay? I’m hurt.” You replied, voice cracking as you stared up at him. “You don’t get to say something sweet and have this all disappear.”

You could feel anger burning in your chest, the taste creeping up the back of your throat, reminding you of when you’d been sick as a child. It burned as if it were bile, forcing every ill thought you’d stuffed down to creep to the surface.

“Do those women even care about you beyond what you can do for them in bed?” You started, moving toward him as you hastily shoved your hair from your face. “Do they, Dal? Is that what you want? Someone not attached? Someone who wouldn’t care if you disappeared?”

His jaw tensed, eyes flickering down to the road beside you two as he tossed his cigarette to the ground, snubbing it out with the heel of his shoe before shoving his hands into his pockets, chest heaving with each shaky breath his lungs allowed him to inhale.

“Talk to me!” You screamed out, voice hoarse from your near-constant sobbing. “Tell me what you want, Dallas. Do you want them? Or do you want me?”

The whole situation felt humiliating, as though you were begging him to love you, to see you as something other than a woman he could fall back on. You needed to be more than that, you weren’t sure your heart or mind could handle seeing him in the arms of another woman. No matter how the conversation ended, you needed closure and you needed for your heart to go a week without shattering into splinters within your chest.

“I don’t-“ He started, clearing his throat as he looked away. There was an emotion written across his face, one you’d only seen on nights when he’d crawled into your bed, silently crying into your chest - something neither of you had ever spoken about. “I’m scared, alright?”

You could tell he was putting on a facade, his shoulders rolling back as he spoke as if he were trying to shield himself from the emotions brewing within his chest. It was odd, seeing him be vulnerable, it was almost as though his body rejected it, his fight or flight kicking in and demanding for him to stonewall you instead of be truthful.

“Fuck, I- I don’t know how to do this, alright?” He looked to you then, brows screwed together with a frown evident on his face. “I want you, doll. But how can I know you’ll stay?”

You moved toward him then, wanting to encourage the vulnerability he was showing you. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing against his cheekbone as you turned his head to face you, determined to have his eyes locked with yours as you spoke.

“Tell me you want me and I’ll stay.” You whispered. “I can’t stand aside and watch you flirt with every woman nearby, alright? If you want me you can have me, but I can’t be with you if you’re going to do this.”

He leaned down then, arms languidly wrapping around your middle as he pulled you flush against him, breathing in the scent of you to help steady his thoughts. You could feel his fingers tighten against the back of your shirt, almost as though he were terrified you’d disappear in his hands.

“I want you.” He stated, tone wavering slightly as he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, back leaned against the siding of some random car. You sunk into his arms then, resting your cheek against his chest as you wrapped your arms around him as well, letting your eyes shut as you savored the moment of being held by him so delicately.

You wanted to be sure, wanted his words to mean something beyond an empty promise. So you looked up to him, taking a moment to wipe your eyes before placing your hands against his jaw, causing his eyes to lock with yours once more.

“Promise me.” You urged, fingers subtly pressing into his skin. “Promise me I’m the only one. You promise me that and I won’t leave you, I’ll be here. I’ll be in your arms, I’ll hold you. I’ll love you.”

He leaned into your touch, exhaling a breath as his lips quirked up into a smile. “You’re the only one, doll. I only want you.” He brought his hand up then, twisting his pinkie around yours, causing you to laugh through a sniffle. “Promise.”

You leaned up then, capturing his lips in a kiss that tasted of tears and cheap liquor, but you didn’t mind it. Your mind was focused on the feeling of his hands settling on your hips, the way he’d promised you something so important in such an innocent manner. It was him, him in every way you’d seen him behind closed doors. You trusted him, his words, his actions.

Dallas was many things, careless, reckless, mean - all things he’d learned during his childhood just so he could survive. You’d heard enough horror stories from him to last you a lifetime, and yet whenever he looked down at you or whenever he laid in your arms you couldn’t help but feel your heart break for the child who’d just wanted someone to do what he’d just done for you - a simple pinkie promise that they weren’t lying, that they were truthful and that they cared for him.

The thought made you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, hands grasping at the front of his shirt tight enough to hurt your palms. You knew him well enough to know that it’d take a while for him to fully let you in, but in the meantime, he’d let you try - and that was enough. All you’d ever wanted was a chance.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips, the words followed by a shallow gasp of air as your lungs filled themselves with much-needed oxygen. “I love you.”

He didn’t say it back, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before intertwining his fingers with your own. As he turned back to the house you stifled a groan, the noise catching his attention.

“We’re not going back inside, we’re going back to mine.” He replied through a soft laugh, dangling the car keys in front of your face as you both wove your way through the driveway to Buck’s car.

You’d both have to explain to the guys what’d happened when you left the party, but they could wait. As you climbed into the passenger side Dallas made his way over to the driver's side, plopping himself down before starting the ignition, the car humming to life on the quiet road.

The drive was quiet, your hand finding its way back to his, fingers intertwining once more as he pulled down a nearby street filled with vacant homes. One of those housing projects where they’d quit building right at the end, the eeriness of empty houses not being lost on you. Whenever the clouds cleared overhead the moon would cast a pale hue over the buildings, causing them to look more beautiful than anything, ivy growing along the broken windows and weeds nearly five feet tall somehow growing in between the porch boards.

After a few moments of calm silence, Dallas finally spoke, his words quiet enough that you might’ve missed them if you hadn’t been paying attention.

“I’m sorry.” He stated, turning his head to look at you. “I‘ve never been good at this- emotions, I mean. But I want to, I want to for you.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt, crossing over the center console to settle yourself on his lap, arms draped over his shoulders as you smiled down at him. “I know.” You replied, voice tender as you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

When his hands moved to your hips you quickly became aware of just how much you didn’t want to speak, as much as his voice soothed you - you didn’t want to spend the next hour talking over something that had already been solved. A different part of your body called out to him, one that needed to be reassured physically, reassured in a way only he could accomplish.

As if he were able to read your thoughts, his hands slid up your sides, brushing your shirt up with it. Each inch of your skin that was left exposed to the night air quickly became alight with goosebumps, his touch only causing the sensitivity to heighten. His hands moved behind you, unclasping your bra in one swift movement, letting the fabric fall between you before he leaned down to capture your breast in his warm mouth.

Your hands found their way to his hair, a soft sigh falling from your lips as you grasped onto the dark brunette strands, hips subtly rocking against his lap as his tongue swirled around your nipple. As he sucked and kissed along your flesh his free hand moved to cup your other breast, gently kneading it in his grasp as his hips bucked up against you.

He was so, so talented with his tongue. It often left you baffled, unable to take in a breath without it sounding akin to a whine - just as he currently had you. Your hand moved from his hair then, smoothing down his chest to his lap. Unzipping his jeans had all but become muscle memory, something you could do without looking. As you pressed kisses along his forehead and temple you unzipped his jeans, dipping your hand into his boxers as you began pumping him.

A silent curse fell past his lips, his hips bucking up into your palm as his grasp on your hip tightened, the other squeezing harder at your breast, fingers gently tweaking your nipple as he focused his attention on the other. You could feel him growing desperate, precum dribbling from his tip as he groaned against your soft flesh.

Your hand tightened around his cock as he teasingly bit at your breast, pulling a grunted-out laugh from his chest as his hands then moved to your jeans, unbuttoning them before pushing his hand inside of your underwear, cupping your sex as he trailed kisses between your breasts.

His fingers trailed lazily over the wetness of your cunt, barely touching your clit enough to grant you any true satisfaction as he continued kissing along your breasts. You knew he could feel your hips grinding down against his fingers, but it didn’t seem to deter him any, he continued his teasing, slowly leaving love bites along your chest as he gently pushed his middle and ring finger into your waiting cunt.

He groaned as you clenched around his fingers, hardly giving him a second before bouncing yourself on his fingers. You’d been desperate before, but everything paled in comparison to the current fire racing through your veins. He kissed up your neck, nipping at your pulse point as he pushed his palm up against your clit, letting you grind down against his hand as you continued to pump him.

Before long you couldn’t stand it, his fingers perfect, just not enough - you needed more, needed him. You leaned back, hastily pushing down your jeans to which he quickly helped, tossing the bundled-up denim into the backseat of Buck’s car along with your soaked underwear.

It was far from the first time you two had fucked in a car, your knees on either side of his thighs feeling like home for you, his tip teasingly pushing along your slick folds making you grasp onto his shoulders, fingers pressing into his skin as you lowered yourself down onto him.

The stretch caused you both to moan, his head falling back against the headrest of his seat as you bounced down onto him, the sound of your moans accompanied by skin meeting skin filling the night air. You could feel your arousal coating your inner thighs, practically dripping down his cock onto his thighs as you rutted against him.

“F-uck.” He grunted out, lips parted as his hands grasped at your hips, feet planted against the floorboard of the car as he thrusted up into you. “So fuckin’ good, doll. Fuck-“

As you rode him his right hand moved between your legs, thumb circling your clit, your skin soaked with your arousal. He watched as you bounced on his cock, utterly entrapped by the sight of his cock disappearing within you, a white sheen of your cum coating his cock, dripping down the base and onto his thighs.

The feeling of his thumb circling your clit coupled with his cock hitting deep within you left you whining, tears of pleasure flooding your eyes as you let your head fall back, quickly feeling his other hand threading his fingers through your hair, harshly grasping at the base of the threads as he began roughly fucking himself up into you.

You practically went limp, moans forced from your chest with each brutal thrust of his hips, arms dangling at your sides as you let him use you. You could feel your orgasm building at a fever pitch in your lower stomach, causing your moans to pitch up an octave as he fucked you.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock, doll?” He grunted out, voice strained and hoarse as he let go of your hair, hand then moving to your jaw as he pulled you down for a needy kiss. He bit at your bottom lip, tongue slipping into your mouth as he rolled his hips up into you, to which you tried your best to match his tempo.

All you could do was nod, cumming with a broken cry of his name as his thumb steadily worked at your clit. The pleasure quickly turned into overstimulation, causing you to whine into the kiss as your hips stuttered in their movement, cunt squeezing around his cock. He didn’t pull away from the kiss, instead grunting into it as he continued rutting up into you, flooding your cunt full of his cum.

He slowed his movements as his cock twitched inside of you, hands still guiding your hips against him, slow and steady rolls of your hips milking him dry. He pulled away from the kiss, lips a rosy hue as he looked up at you, eyes blown with desire. You felt his breath against your face, his hands soon moving up to cup your jaw as he leaned up to press a shaky kiss to your lips.

“I love you.” He murmured, thumb brushing against the soft skin of your cheek. “I love you.”

You smiled into the kiss, a quiet laugh passing your lips as you pressed a plethora of kisses to his lips, cheek, and jaw. The action pulled a laugh from him, his eyes fluttering shut as he brushed his fingers along your spine.

“I love you too, Dal.” You responded, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you both caught your breath.

You both were sweaty, sticky, and thoroughly coated in cum along your thighs. But you wouldn’t have had it any other way, besides, it was completely like Dallas to admit his feelings for you while still buried in your cunt.

“Think we stained the seats.” Dallas grumbled out through a laugh, the comment causing you to laugh as well, neither of you making a move to move away from each other. “Fuck it.”

A/N: So sorry for the length of this, or am I? I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, went through a lot of revisions, but I’m happy with the end product. You can catch all of my work over on my ao3 under the username “Unscriptural.” Thank you guys again for reading or skimming through, whatever ‘ya did I’m thankful for the interaction!

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callme-holly · 5 days ago

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hii can you do handholding prompt 21 (holding hands while one is balancing on a small wall) with dally 🤍🤍

𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 [𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Dallas has always been a little rough around the edges, but there are some times when you see through the cracks 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 684 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - brief mentions of fighting and getting arrested

The sun was high in the sky, the midsummer breeze doing very little to cool the already warm air.

The street was mostly empty, the occasional car passing by, their windows rolled down, and their radios blaring, but it seemed most people were content to stay inside and avoid the heat.

Beside you walked none other than Dallas Winston, a cigarette dangling from between his lips, his arm slung lazily over your shoulders. There was a cut on his jaw, one that hadn't quite healed over during his time in the cooler, and he had several bruises littering his knuckles, none of which seemed all too new either. Dallas always did love a fight; that was something you wouldn't ever be able to change; still, that didn't mean you couldn't try.

“Why'd you do it?” you asked him, breaking away from his hold to step up onto the little wall lining the path, glancing over at your boyfriend. “Why did you bother fighting those guys in the first place? You could've just walked away." You trailed off, knowing the suggestion wasn't even worth considering.

“I told ya,” Dallas mumbled around his cigarette, his cheeks puffing slightly as he took another drag. “They deserved it, talkin' shit about us like that.”

He steps closer to the wall, reaching out to grab at your hand, steadying you as you stumble forward slightly.

“You're gonna hurt yourself, man,” he comments, poorly concealed concern in his eyes as he glances up at you. It seems he doesn't want to discuss what happened before he got hauled in, and you decide that it's probably best to just drop the topic before he snaps at you about minding your own business.

So instead, you carry on walking, Dallas' fingers laced with yours, squeezing gently. The sun feels nice on your skin, warming your face and arms, and you breathe deeply, taking in the scent of the summer air, your perfume, and the smoke from Dallas' cigarette mingling somewhere in the mix.

"You gonna let me stay the night, doll?" he asks after a moment, giving you a quick glance. He hasn't let go of your hand yet, and it seems he's entirely unaware that he's still holding it, too busy searching your face for an answer.

You look over at him for only a moment, the corners of your lips lifting into a smile at the sight of him; the light catches the blonde strands of his hair, turning them white, making him look almost angelic. But that's ridiculous—Dallas Winston is everything but angelic. One close look at him would reveal everything—all the little imperfections, the scars that marred his features and made you wince every time you saw them, the way his brow was almost always furrowed in frustration, his eyes sharp and cold, the way he was so often silent and angry, the way he could make even the most innocent action seem like anything but.

“We'll see..” You reply eventually, though you know you've already given him an answer, because you can't bring yourself to deny him anything, and he knows that all too well.

For a split second, you notice the way the corners of his lips turn up into a smile, crooked and lopsided, and you know that underneath all that toughness, there's a kid who just needs someone to care about him.

Dallas raises a brow at you, letting out an incredulous chuckle as he drops your hand, instead bringing his arm up to wind around your waist as he hauls you up and off of the wall.

“We'll see, huh?” he repeats, smirking as your arms wrap around his neck, clinging onto him as if he'd drop you at any given second. Your breath comes out in small gasps of laughter, and he leans down, bringing his lips to yours in a kiss that's both passionate and demanding. Dallas doesn't do sweet and soft; he never has, and he never will. But that's one thing you’d never change about him.

#the outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagine #darry curtis headcanons #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #dallas winston imagine #steve randle x reader #johnny cade x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #soda curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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cranberrv · 8 months ago

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fic with dally teaching the reader how to drive?

never let me go

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which you and dallas go for a drive

( not proofread , swearing, lowercase intended )

when you were with dallas, you felt free. he was so reckless, so hardcore, and completely bananas. you loved to tag along on his stupid adventures, and now, your new outing is to check on ponyboy and johnny at the church that they’re hiding out in.

“you know how to drive, doll?” he asks you after picking you up, tossing you the keys. “buck won’t let me drive this beauty, but he trusts you.”

you laugh. “well he’s stupid to trust me, because i can’t drive.”

“you’re kiddin’,” he can’t hold his dumb smirk back. the endearing smirk that he gives you whenever he’s about to do something you won’t like. “c’mon, try it then, sweetie.”

“no way, dal,” you shake your head, but he’s already taken your spot in the passengers seat. “i’ll kill you, i’ll crash the car or something, i dunno-“

“i trust ya, stop freakin’ out,” he interuppts, dismissive of your worries. “i’ll teach ya how to work everythin’.”

you debate, but nod and sit in the drivers seat. gosh, it really was more intimidating up there.

“it’s pretty simple, hun,” he starts out. “pedal to your left is your clutch, it’ll make the car drive, pedal in your middle is your break, and pedal to your right is gas. you’d be stupid to not figure it out.” he looks back at you after showing you the pedals, and see’s your expression. “no, no, no, don’t give me that look. you’ll be fine. i’ll hold the wheel for ya.”

he directs you further, and eventually, you get the car going. his left hand is on yours, holding the wheel from the passengers side, helping you keep the car steady.

dallas puts in an elvis cd, and the music echoes throughout tulsa. “finally don’t gotta listen to your shit music,” he teases.

you smile and roll your eyes. “oh shut it, dal, i know you secretly like lesley gore.”

“‘sunshine and lollipops’ is the worst song i’ve ever heard. i’d rather you crash the car than to listen to that fuckin’ mess.”

“you’re mean,” you tease back, and he laughs.

“alright, that’s it, i’m lettin’ go of the wheel. i’m letting you kill us.”

“no, no, no,” you insist. “don’t let go.”

“my arm is cramping, doll,”

“don’t care. never let me go.”

he smiles, and holds your hand a little tighter. the summer breeze is coating the entire convertible in its warmth, your hair is waving in the wind, and dallas is just watching you drive, the focus in your eyes unmatched.

you reach a red light, and finally get a short break to relax. you turn to dallas. “i dunno how you drive everywhere, dal, this is stressful.”

“baby, you’re doin’ just fine.” he assures. “haven’t even run over anything yet, that’s somethin’, huh?”

“i don’t wanna kill us, dal.”

he laughs at that. “i’d hope so.” he takes a drag of his cigarette, then looks around at everything. you’re out of tulsa, out of the city. “i ain’t never been to the country before.”

“really? it’s nice, huh? all the trees and fields and stuff.”

“it looks fuckin’ boring. nothin’ to do around here, does everyone just play checkers or somethin’?”

“you’re such a downer,” you joke. you look up, and realize the light has just turned green. “oh- dal, which one is the clutch, again?”

“you’re a dumbass.” is all he says.

“dal!” you insist, and he puts his hand up in fake surrender. “i mean it, i’m keeping these cars waiting.”

“it’s your far left, doll.” he finally tells you, and you thank him, and then start driving.

you continue driving to meet the boys, and the country scenery is engulfing the both of you. fields on farmland, apple orchards, small, sweet towns, everything was so wholesome and welcoming.

you feel free, like the world is just yours and dally’s. you were born to live this moment, to drive through the countryside in your red convertible, the sun hitting your faces so perfectly that it feels like a coming-of-age movie. you feel golden.

#the outsiders #dallas winston #dally winston #dallas #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston fluff #dallas winston x reader #dally winston fluff

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lizzy019 · 4 months ago

Text

𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝐵𝑜𝓎 🎉

Sub!Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader [Reader is only a year older than Dally]

cw -> fingering, blowjob, edging

Word Count -> 1K

I love this idea smmmm <33 We’re going right into the smut too!

It was daunting the way you were posed.

Breasts all shoved forward and nipples erect, a smirk plastered on your pretty lips as you confidently wore that almost nude lingerie. The colour complimented your skin so perfectly, he could feel himself drooling on himself.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re lookin’ so good. You’re so hot. What a great birthday gift.” Dally murmured, hands needily grasping your waist.

You couldn’t help but smile wide, a toothy grin being presented to him that had his toughened heart preening itself in glee. So his hands gently slid up to take off the lingerie bra, but you swatted his hand away in disbelief.

“Not yet, I have to treat you, yes? It’s your 18th birthday, you’re legal now.” You chuckled lowly, getting onto your knees in front of him and brushing a piece of your hair away from your face.

Your hand came to caress the bulge in his pants, using your palm to harden it further while using your fingers to stimulate his nerves. It had him shivering, jaw slack and eyes glazed with a haze of distraction.

You couldn’t have been more confident in your abilities, as your hand crawled up to the button of his jeans to undo it and let his erection spring free into the cool air of the room.

With tender care, you stroked his cock to pull the foreskin off of his pretty tip, watching a bead of precum form as you did so, watching it happen as a little vein pulsated in glee.

You gently began to stroke the hardened flesh up and down at a steady pace, watching as Dally began to whimper. His head was now thrown back, his spine curling inward from the ecstasy.

Your mouth suddenly attached itself to his cock, and it caused a loud whine to escape him. His fingers grasped your hair and pushed your head down onto his length, his body spasming in the feeling of congenial pleasure.

Soon enough, your pace had Dally climbing up the stairs of climax. Whimpers and whines flew from his lips, his hands fully pushing your head down onto his hard rod as he used your mouth like a fleshlight to find his pleasure.

“I- I’m cumming, sweetheart, oh fuck!” Dally moaned out, letting his seed explode into your mouth and warm your pleasant throat.

Swallowing the amount given to you and licking him clean, you rid yourself of the lingerie and chuckled as Dally’s expression went from tired to energy fuelled once more.

With huffing and panting, Dally’s hands came to hold your waist, guiding you to his lap as you straddled his legs.

“So, birthday boy, wanna do this yourself? Need any guidance?” Your voice oozed a strong amount of condescension, proving your lack of mercy in this moment.

Dally shook his head swiftly, eagerly stroking his sensitive cock back to erection so he could continue having his lovely moment with you. You were so pretty, his eyes couldn’t shift away from your pretty supple breasts hanging in front of his face.

A gentle finger was pressed to your labia, pushing open the walls as his finger acted as something to pleasure you. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped your lips, and your hips acted on their own as they moved up and down to please yourself on his digit.

“Ah.. curl your finger a bit, Dal- fuck! Yeah, like that!” You whined out into the room, hands gently grabbing his shoulders as you worked yourself on his finger.

His finger pressed that lovely little gooey spot inside of you that had every nerve in your body tremble, and as he kept doing it, the closer you got to the finale.

But Dally stopped you.

You nearly wailed at the sudden loss of his digit, but when you looked to see what he was doing, your eyes softened. He was using your arousal juice that was on his finger to lube up his tip, smiling softly when he saw your concern.

“Alright sweetheart, you ready for this? It’s our grand finale.” Dally hummed out, gently wrapping his arms around your hips and tugging you closer to him.

With a nod of your head and a soft inhale through your nose, you watched eagerly as he lined his cock up with your entrance, teasing your hole with his tip before plunging himself into you without a second thought. The motion had you both crying out in ecstasy.

Dally was moaning and writhing as you bounced yourself on his cock, taking him all too well as he struggled to hold onto his orgasmic release. You simply felt too good, he felt his control slowly slipping away from his grasp.

“Oh sweetheart.. you’re too tight. Gonna cum too fast, oh fuckin’ hell!” Dally whined out, hands digging harshly into your sides.

Little crescent shapes formed where his nails were penetrating, his hands trying to move you up and down faster as he chased that lovely release he so desperately wanted. He’d get on his knees and beg for this sort of pleasure if he had to.

Sure enough, just a few more desperate thrusts and your lovely tight cunny gripping him so good had him busting his nuts deep into your welcoming womb.

A thrust or two was conducted as a finale to push it all into your womb before Dally huffed and puffed while cuddling his cheek into your bare chest. Your hand lovingly entwined your fingers into his little waves, making him sigh happily.

“Happy birthday, Dally.” You hummed out finally, kissing his forehead as a soft smile grazed your pretty lips.

He smiled so softly that it was almost unnoticeable, but the kind gestures warmed his hardened heart.

“Thanks, sweetheart. We should clean off, yeah?”

So with a little nod of your head, you two were off to take a shower to seal the present you planned so perfectly for him altogether.

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

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dalilacherie · 3 months ago

Note

i saw your request were open and if it isnt too much to ask could you maybe write dally x tim cuddling after tim patching dally up ? if its not too much for you to write that is.

𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝

[𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐓𝐢�� 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I'm so sorry for this being late!! Also, Ignore the pictures. I had a hard time finding ones that matched the story. We can infer.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1,173

Dallas Winston sat on the edge of Tim Shepard's worn-out couch, his jaw set tight as he clenched his teeth against the pain. Tim was kneeling on the floor in front of him, a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and a wad of cotton balls scattered around him. The small living room was dimly lit by a single lamp, casting long shadows on the walls.

Dally's shirt lay discarded on the floor, revealing a nasty gash running across his ribs. Blood had dried around the wound, and the skin around it was bruised and swollen. Tim worked silently, his hands steady as he cleaned the cut. He didn't say much; he never did. Talking wasn't Tim's way, but he was good with his hands, good at taking care of things that needed doing.

Dally winced as the alcohol touched his skin, a low hiss escaping through his teeth. He glanced at Tim, whose expression remained unreadable, his dark eyes focused on the task at hand. Dally knew Tim wasn't one for showing emotions, but there was a certain gentleness in the way he was handling the wound.

Tim finished cleaning the cut and tossed the bloodied cotton ball into a nearby trash can. He reached for a roll of bandages, his fingers deftly unrolling it and wrapping it around Dally's torso. The fabric was rough against Dally's skin, but the pressure of the bandage was reassuring, a reminder that someone was there, someone to patch him up.

"There," Tim said quietly, securing the end of the bandage. He sat back on his heels, studying his work. "That should hold for now. You need to take it easy for a few days, let it heal."

Dally snorted, a hint of his usual bold tone slipping through despite the pain. "Yeah, right. Like that's gonna happen."

Tim didn't argue. He knew Dally too well. They had been through too much together, seen too many fights, too many close calls. Tim stood up, his joints popping as he stretched. He looked down at Dally, his gaze softening just a fraction.

"You should get some rest," Tim said. "You can crash here tonight. Couch ain't much, but it's better than nothing."

Dally opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. He was too tired, too beat up to argue. Instead, he nodded, the movement small and reluctant. Tim's offer was practical.

Tim disappeared into the small kitchen, returning with a blanket and a couple of pillows. He tossed them onto the couch beside Dally, then hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside him. The couch creaked under their combined weight, the springs protesting the sudden load.

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet stretching out between them. Dally leaned back, his head resting against the couch cushions. He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over him. Tim's presence was a steady anchor.

After a while, Tim shifted, his arm brushing against Dally's. It was a small, almost accidental touch, but it was enough to make Dally open his eyes. He turned his head slightly, looking at Tim through half-lidded eyes.

"You okay?" Tim asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dally nodded. "Yeah. Just tired."

Tim didn't say anything, but he moved closer, his shoulder pressing against Dally's. It was a subtle gesture, but it spoke volumes. Dally let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension drain out of him. He reached up, his fingers brushing against Tim's arm.

Tim settled back, his body relaxing against the cushions. He shifted slightly, making room for Dally to lean against him. It was an awkward arrangement, two tough guys trying to find a way to be close without making a big deal out of it. But they managed, finding a way to fit together that felt right.

Dally rested his head on Tim's shoulder, his eyes drifting shut. The pain in his side was still there, a dull throb that he couldn't ignore, but it was easier to bear with Tim beside him. Tim's hand came to rest on Dally's arm, a light touch that grounded him, kept him from slipping too far into the darkness.

They stayed like that for a long time, the room silent except for the sound of their breathing. Dally's breaths grew slower, deeper, as he started to drift off.

The next morning, Dallas stirred awake, blinking against the early morning light filtering through the threadbare curtains. His neck throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, a result of sleeping in an awkward position on the worn-out couch. He winced as he tried to move, feeling the stiffness in his muscles.

With a groan, he slowly pushed himself up, one hand rubbing at the crook in his neck. The house was silent, save for the distant sounds of traffic outside. The air felt cooler, a slight draft coming through a crack in the window. He glanced around, the events of the previous night coming back to him in hazy fragments.

The small living room was empty, and Tim was nowhere to be seen. The blanket and pillows were still there, evidence of Tim's quiet care, but the man himself was gone. Dally felt a pang of disappointment, a sense of loneliness creeping in as he realized he was alone again.

Dally shifted on the couch, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. He remembered how Tim had carefully draped it over him. He could still feel the warmth of Tim's body beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest as they had settled into an uneasy, but comforting closeness.

After Dallas had finally let his guard down and admitted to being tired, Tim had moved closer, their bodies aligning awkwardly but fitting together in a way that felt right. The lines of their bodies softened by the shared exhaustion. Tim's shoulder had provided a firm support for Dally's aching head, and the slow, even rhythm of Tim's breathing had lulled him into a deeper state of relaxation.

Tim's arm had remained draped over Dally's, the contact gentle yet grounding. It wasn't often that either of them allowed such vulnerability, but in the quiet of Tim's house, with the world shut out, it felt like the most natural thing. They had stayed like that for hours, the initial awkwardness melting into a comfortable silence, disturbed only by the occasional shifting to find a better position.

Dally had drifted in and out of sleep, the pain in his side. But with Tim beside him, it had been easier to bear. There had been moments when Dally had woken slightly, feeling Tim's fingers lightly tracing patterns on his arm.

Now, as he sat on the edge of the couch, the morning light casting a glow across the room, the memories of the night before felt distant. The ache in his neck was a small price to pay for the brief time with Tim. He reached for his shirt, pulling it on carefully to avoid aggravating his wound.

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders imagines #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston #tim shepard #tim shepard headcanon #tim shepard imagine #the outsiders dally #the outsiders tim #dalilacherie

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crow2222 · 7 months ago

Note

May I request: Tim bringing a (fairly) concussed Darry back to the gang?

WC; 1122

I never wrote in Tim's pov before, so apologies if it's out of character.

The rocks rolled under his feet, each step as sloppy and uncoordinated as the next. Usually this movement means one of two things in this neighbourhood; they got shitfaced or were jumped, and poor ol’ Darry seemed to be hit by the latter.

I wasn’t known for helping out just any unlucky soul, but this man had always found a way to lend me a hand without even knowing it himself. So when I saw him staggering home whilst taking my own trek home; I crossed the street and wrapped my arm around him.

He paid no mind to me it seemed, not even a slight hint of acknowledgement from him. It was strange, it sure was, Darry was one kind man, supposedly he once dropped everything and helped an old woman cross the street. He was stupid in the head, being like that in a town like this, and this night sure proved it.

His truck was parked up front once we made it back, and I wondered where the hell he was going, and what happened, but I kept my mouth shut as I helped him get up the front steps of the porch.

Judging by the hoots and yells from inside, none of them had a damn clue or worry about their precious guardian. Not that I’d blame them, that group of boys never seemed to get a damned break. First their parents, then Dallas n Johnny. How they could be jumping around and laughing was beyond me.

It all died down as the screen door slammed into the wall, making Darry wince, his body tensing up in my hold. Knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop his supposed headache, I kept on going inside, cursing under my breath when he started to rest his entire weight on me.

“Goddammit Curtis get up!” I tried shrugging him off, but alas.

My yell was what made them get up from the kitchen, and I was met with the faces of the boys Darry took care of as if all were his own.

Two-bit, Steve, Soda, and the runt, Ponyboy.

Hands all flew towards me, grabbing the older man from my grasp. WIth steady steps among Two-bit and Steve, they deposited Darry on the couch, his head reeling backwards with a groan.

“Tim. What happened to him?” The littlest Curtis asked me, his eyes huge and staring at his brother. Soda was gone off somewhere, before the crashes alerted me he was probably getting the aid kit.

My shoulders shrugged before my mind thought of a reply, as well as helping people, I also wasn’t known for being a big talker, unlike the wise-ass Keith and Dallas. “Just found ‘im trying to get over here. Seemed to me like he was about to pass out before I reached the door.”

Then I took in how Darry looked again.

His face was crumpled up in pain, his hair dishevelled to a certain degree, the starting signs of bruises on his face and arms, and not to mention that he was sporting a bloody nose, which he tried to wipe away.

It wasn’t a pretty sight; this realisation only came to me in the bright lights of the sitting room. It made me wonder if I should’ve taken him to my own house and cleaned him up a bit before getting his sorry ass home. Would’ve saved them from worrying so much.

Sodapop then blocked my view, immediately getting to work. He cleaned up cuts and scratches I didn’t even realise were there, making me more inquisitive about Darry’s whereabouts more than ever. Steve must’ve thought the same thing, his voice pulling me out of the worry I didn’t know I was feeling.

“Where the hell did you go off to? We thought you were sleeping.” His tone was short and snippy, as per usual, but there was a rare hint of care in it as well. I didn’t know much about him other than his great car skills, but he’d taught Dallas how to steal hubcaps and I’ll forever hate that fact. Too many of my wheels went without hubcaps whenever we’d get in any kind of scrap.

By then, Ponyboy was gone from my side and already placed a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the table. He would’ve been hanging out with Curly if he wasn’t in the reformatory, there was no doubt in my mind about that. That stupid kid just had a liking to the Curtis; I couldn’t put my finger onto why.

It took around two minutes for me to realise I overstayed my welcome; my duty was solely just to bring Darry home, not to pace around like a man in a hospital waiting room, wondering if his buddy would have to stay the night for observation or not.

My shoes squeaked as I turned my heel, ignoring the nagging voice in my head that told me to stay. I wasn’t planning on stickin’ around at all, but then Darry had to open his dumb mouth and call out my name. It was more like a quiet whine, but I heard it all the same.

So I stayed.

I felt like an odd one out amongst them all, like a puzzle piece from a different box that got mixed up. They all fit in together, albeit they were missing a couple of their own pieces. The three brothers were all huddled up on the couch, the other two on the floor nearby.

Lights were turned off, leaving only the side lamp on as they coaxed Darry enough to get the damn painkillers and keep him awake by keeping the television on, the sound just high enough to keep him from sleeping. He was fighting it; I could tell from the bopping of his head, his baby brother falling asleep on his shoulder probably didn’t help either.

Stretching my legs out from the recliner, I decided it was finally time for me to leave, no amount of begging keeping me this time. The cold wind ran shivers down my spine once I opened up the door, and when I took one glance back in the sitting room, I was met with the hazy eyes of Darrel.

His head bowed down slightly, obviously causing him some discomfort as his eyes crinkled, and his scowl deepened. He was giving me thanks despite his damn concussion.

I bit back my tongue, I wasn’t about to call a man who can barely walk stupid. So instead, I dipped my head back to him and left.

There was only one question on my mind as I kicked a rock across the road; How did good ol’ Darry get hurt?

#the outsiders #tim shepard #darry curtis #the outsiders fanfiction #tumblr asks #tumblr ask

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heister-shmeister · 6 months ago

Text

“-When was someone going to tell me tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?”

a funny thing i wrote in my notes app

based on that one shitpost

Calmly the Mastermind sits on the couch, handling a white mug. The windows are cracked open to allow a steady flow of air into the building. It was quite a refreshing day with many members of the crew situated in the surrounding areas of the safehouse leisurely attending to their own activities. Duke was in the kitchen, typical of the older man. Sokol was on the other set of furniture in the downstairs area that belongs to absolutely nobody. Houston was doing his routine maintenance of his favorite firearms in the threshold between the garage and the main room. Clover was sitting on the stairs and who knows what she was thinking about. The comfortable heisters were happy simply existing.

Dallas looks down into his mug and then takes a nice sip of it. Dangling over the rim of the ceramic cup was the paper tab of a tea bag. After his initial sip, the gentleman’s face seemed to contort. Not in a bad way but in a curious, ‘huh’ sort of way. With little to no warning the crew chief asks nobody in particular-

“-When was someone going to tell me tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?”

And the air feels chillier all of the sudden.

The frantic sound of the fridge being thrown shut followed by the pitter patter of dress shoes as Duke hurriedly walks across the kitchen. He grasps the handrail with his gloved hands and cries out as if in shock.

“You were putting it in COLD WATER?”

Sokol’s neck snaps in the direction of the crew chief as the room once again falls silent. The slav, too, was utterly stunned. His eyes were blown wide and as second by second past with no elaboration the more his brows furrowed in frustration.

“DALLAS,” the russki calls out, warranting mentioned heister to once again start paying attention.

“Answer the question, Dallas,” the grinder pleads. His eyes were glossed over. Though his sitting position seemed comfortable and content, Sokol was far from it. His entire day had just been derailed by this information. Clover and Houston also poked their heads out of their current activities to provide the conversation with some of their attention.

The mastermind was confused. He swallowed down another sip of his tea and explained.

“For like, five years, I was under the impression people put tea into hot water to speed up the-“ he grasps at the air for the word he’s searching for, “-the TEA-IFICATION process. I didn’t realize there was an actual reason!” he casually remarks, chest trembling with an amused yet embarrassed chuckle.

“Do you think I have the patience to boil water,” he tacks on at the very end much more quietly than his previous statements. Despite his attempts at discreetness, Sokol shouts once again, somehow even more exasperated than before.

“You don’t have patience to microwave water for THREE minutes??” Sokol asked. He had grabbed a handful of his own hair in order to stabilize himself, brushing his hair back with his fingers.

“Why.. are you putting it in the microwave…” A ghost who’d gone previously unnoticed could not hold his peace for any longer. Houston lowered his currently unloaded pistol as well as the cloth he’d been using to wipe it down. “To boil it??” The notion someone would boil water in a microwave was utterly fucking absurd to him? He didn’t know exactly why but that seemed like a really bad idea.

Sokol slowly turns his head to face Houston. He’d been frozen in shock. He lowers his hand and his previously slicked hair falls in his face, disheveled. Rather hypocritically he interrogates,

“Do you think I have the patience to boil water on a stove??” He asks this like he didn’t JUST accuse Dallas of being impatient. Sokol /was/ pretty impatient. Seemed like any drill the cree had just wasn’t speedy enough for him.

“IT TAKES. LESS THAN A MINUTE!” Houston yells as he recklessly enunciates with words with a strike by his pistol into his palm. Sokol interrupts him.

“BUDDY, IS YOUR STOVE POWERED BY THE FUCKING SUN?” Sokol, energetic as ever swings himself over the back of the couch and walks over to Houston.

“How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove??”

“Like seven minutes!”

The rogue looks up at the Russian now staring him down. Sokol wasn’t looking down on him in anger but in desperation. Houston holds up a hand and motions the following tutorial,

“Take a mug and put it on the stove on medium heat and it boils in like, two minutes,” Houston details like he’d deciphered the Rosetta stone.

“Any less than that and you use a saucepan.”

Sokol places his hands on his knees and bends down to look Houston even more intensely in the eye. The hockey player’s pupils were frantically shaking in circles and his smile was ear to ear. It was a terrified smile.

“You’re putting a whole mug of water on the stove?” the younger man asks accusatorially. “On medium heat?? Your stove is fucking enchanted.”

While the two goofy goobers continue to debate each other in their own corner of the safehouse, Clover lowers her hand from the bridge of her nose and mumbles shakily under her breath.

“Every person in this building is an utter fucking loon.”

Hoxton emerges from the basement stairs by the living room. His usual smug look was replaced with another one of his usual irritated looks. He reaches out his own fancy little cup of tea. He says this like everyone in the room is fucking stupid.

“Have none of you owned a fucking kettle??”

#payday 2 #sokol payday 2 #dallas payday 2 #hoxton payday 2 #houston payday 2 #duke payday 2 #clover payday 2 #some of them are only there for a few lines

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beautouslysandy · 2 years ago

Text

Set Up To Be

Dallas Winston x GN!Reader

By-Sandy

Warnings: Might be language

Word Count: 715

______________________________________________

__________________________________________

-Your best friend, B/F/N (best friend name) has seen you go through traumatic breakups to toxic relationships with trashy boys. -Tour B/F/N is dating Sodapop Curtis. She is happy and in love but can’t help but notice that you aren’t. Y’all have been friends since grade school and she would give nothing more to see you happy, and not for it to fake or temporary. True happiness.

-Sodapop is not real close with Dallas but ever since Sylvia, Dallas hasn’t been himself, they were never the real real thing but what she did to him wasn’t right. Sodapop feels bad, and he thinks that you and Dally are a good fit for eachother.

-B/F/N happens to think otherwise, she knows Dallas type and doesn’t want you to end up with tears and empty ice cream pints…again. But Sodapop told her, to trust him. And she did. Let’s see how this goes?

-You are perky, bubbly, and outgoing person. You have the brains and the beauty. Your parents have a steady income, you live a nice generously sized home with a white picket fence. On the outside, you have the life everybody is praying for. You are what everyone wants to be. (A soc) -Dallas is rude, obnoxious, and….a delinquent. That’s what your parents call him. He doesn’t have his parents, he dropped out of school a long time ago, can’t hold a job and sleeps on people couch’s. But he doesn’t care what people think or he did until he met you. (A greaser) -Complete opposites but Sodapop thinks it would work so….

••••••••

You were at the concession stand at the Nightly Double with B/F/N, y’all were deciding what to get for a snack. You, B/F/N, Sodapop and Steve were watching the movie playing tonight. Y’all are all close and have a lot of fun together. You are estatic that your best friend had finally found someone, which she well deserves but you can’t help but notice her looking at you every now and then like your a kicked puppy. She is worried, again.

A guy you were dating, broke up with you, predictably. It’s how it always ended, you have never broken up with someone…it’s always you…getting dumped. This time the guy you dated all of for 5 seconds, cheated on you with some random girl at a party last night. He ended shortly after, good for him but bad for you. You were in tears but not over the guy but over the fact that you couldn’t find one decent guy that was willing to date you longer than 2 months.

“Y/N..?” B/F/N asked worriedly as you were asking for two large popcorn and 4 cokes. ”Hmm?” You hummed as you took your money out to pay

“I was talking to Soda and…he wants to set you up with someone….”She said hesitantly

“Sodapop said this?” You said looking at her with surprise as you grabbed the snacks and drinks with the help of your best friend.

“Yeah…in fact he is talking to the guy right now…” She said almost apologetically

You sighed and took a bit of popcorn “Tell him I said thanks but I am gonna pass.” You said with a sad smile

“No, your not.” She said shaking her head with a sigh “You are going to talk to him and make the most of it…..okay? For me.” She said pleadingly with a sparkle of determination in her eyes

“Fine.” You agreed softly as she smiled widely “Great!” She gleamed walking over to Soda and the tall brunette with the drinks You took a deep breath and walked over, you were a bit flustered as your best friend's boyfriend had set you up with a date.

When you got close enough to make eye contact with the brunette you could tell he was thinking the same exact thing.

“Hey..”He said smirking with his hand behind his neck

“Hi” You said smiling at his smirk

Once you all sat down and the movie began, it was not so awkward. “My name is Y/N..” You said trying to create a conversation with the brunette because you could feel B/F/N's eyes watching the two of you.

“Dallas.” He said shortly as he lit a cancer stick You nodded, he clearly wasn't interested in a side conversation “So... you're a Soc...like Soda’s girl?” He said looking you up and down with a grin. Clearly judging your well-picked-out outfit. “A what?” You asked confused, you have never heard this term well you have but the term has never been explained to you

“A soc...you know, the south side of town?” He said looking at you stunned as he took a breath of his cigarette

“Oh...I am from the South side but I dont think that qualifies me as a “Soc” You said signing air citation on the word soc

“Hmm. Well you are.” He said smirking “Okay and you aren't?” You asked now intrigued by these stereotypical titles

“Glory, no! I am a Greaser...” He said with a tone of hurt

“Oh..." You said clueless

••••

Dallas Winston wasn't as bad as everyone made him out to be. He was sweet a bit snarky but that fine, you can see past it. You and Dallas have been hangout on your own time. You didn't really read into much because friendships with you always lead somewhere that is never good.

Dallas made you feel safe, and you felt you didn't have to put up your guard around him...you...could be yourself. You were falling in love with Dallas Winston, and you had no clue whatsoever.

You got the whole package, butterflies, flushed pink face, stuttering, and everything yet you had no clue. The best part is that he felt the exact same way, but he knew.

The question is, will Dallas Winston say anything, or will he let you slip away?

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

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ophernelia · 7 months ago

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+ PAIRING: Dallas & Cale Sumner, Imogen's Parents. + WARNINGS: None. Maybe bad writing. Mildly proofread. + WORD COUNT: 1.3K + SONG CHOICE: ♪ + AUTHOR'S NOTES: I had planned to do a special episode on this concept, but I couldn't execute it well soooo here it is in written form. The "Anchors" series is meant to give you a little more insight into certain Lykaia characters and their relationships. Anchors are meant to ground you. To hold you down and keep you steady so you don't get swept away. In essence, that's all this mini series is. Just a few glimpses of those moments between certain characters. I am a much better director than I am a writer, so you've been forewarned!

Northern Vegas was usually hot and dry. It didn’t rain very often. A sprinkle here or there, but never anything more than that. It wasn’t uncommon for weeks- or even a month to go by without a single drop of rain. That makes days like today all that more special. Heavy droplets seemed to fall endlessly from the dark clouds overhead. The air was thick with humidity. Due to the heat, even the raindrops didn’t offer a reprieve. They warmed as they fell through the atmosphere and peppered the busy city below. The slick pavement of the highway only increased the stagnation of hefty traffic. The sounds of honking cars, rainfall, and rubber tires on asphalt echoed throughout the air. It almost covered the sound of incessant sobs pouring out of a grey 2003 E-class Mercedes. Almost. “She has an appointment with a neurologist tomorrow-” Dallas’ sentence was cut short after another wail sprang from Imogen’s throat. She sat uncomfortably in her car seat in the back of the car. Her round face soaked with salty tears, while small hands clenched the fabric of her shirt. Today was an especially hard day. She woke up in a sour mood. Not even awarding her mother with a grunt of a response when she questioned her. She had been completely silent until the first meltdown that came after dropping her breakfast on the floor. The second came shortly after she was dressed and did not want to wear her rainbow striped shirt. Instead she wanted to remain in her pajamas- at least that’s what Dallas believes she wanted. Imogen would never outright tell her. She would never outright tell her anything, because even as she approaches the tender age of four, Imogen could not speak.

“Baby, please stop crying.” Dallas pleaded shifting her eyes to the rearview mirror where she caught the sight of Imogen in complete disarray. Her hands clenched hard onto the steering wheel in front of her. “She has another appointment with her speech therapist the following Friday. I got it rescheduled since we’re flying out to see Hattie on Saturday.” Cale, sat comfortably in the passenger seat, shifts his body to face Imogen. “You excited to see grandma, Immy?” Imogen doesn’t respond and instead lets out another loud whine. Shifting his focus back to the road in front of them, Cale sighs. “Maybe the busyness of the week is stressing her out.” Dallas rolls her eyes in response, already finding herself slightly annoyed with Cale. “It’s only going to get busier. After this appointment she has to get blood drawn.” Absent-mindedly, Dallas taps her finger against the warm leather of the steering wheel. “When we get home, Rhiannon’s coming by to braid her up too. Hopefully we’ll be back by seven.” Cale hums in response, sinking further into his seat. He had to choose his words carefully today with Imogen and Dallas both being in sour moods. Dallas had already scolded him earlier for his lack of help in getting Imogen ready for the day. He didn’t want another repeat of this morning. His mind drifted over to the thought of dinner. A nice good meal usually puts Dallas at ease.

“We should order out for dinner. Maybe that Thai place again.” Dallas lets out a heavy sigh in response. Thai would be great. Anything would be right now. With the chaos of the morning, Dallas had forgotten to feed herself sufficiently too. The cup of coffee and few bites of an egg had all but disappeared from her stomach. That was around 9 AM this morning. And what time was it now? Nearing 2:30? That’s no good. “We’d have to find something else for Imogen to eat.” The corners of her mouth rotated downward into a scowl. “There’s no way she’d go for basil chicken today.” Cale’s green eyes flicked upward, focusing on a spot on the ceiling as he spoke. “We could find something plain for her. You know she’ll always eat mango sti-” He was promptly interrupted by Imogen letting out another loud wail. Frustrated with the incessant noise, Dallas shouted back. “IMOGEN! Please!” The sudden sound of her mother’s voice sent shockwaves through Imogen’s tiny frame. Resulting in her only crying harder and much more loudly. Dallas’ own brown eyes were chock full of tears. The whites of her knuckles showing with how hard she gripped the steering wheel. “God! Please just stop crying for ten minutes!” Traffic had all but slowed to a complete stop. Dallas’ head fell forward onto the wheel and with a rugged inhale she strained to say “God, I can’t do this!” The last few years had been especially taxing.

As an infant, Imogen never cried. She slept well through the night. She was perfect. Dallas she had been blessed with a miracle child. In comparison to her sister’s children, Imogen was a saint. It wasn’t until she reached the age of two and Dallas noticed she still had not muttered a single word. Not a single “mama” or “dada” ever slipped from her lips. Only an occasional grunt. On rare instances, maybe even a giggle. But.. there were never any words. Then came the tantrums shortly after. The only sounds Dallas has heard from Imogen in recent years have all been of sobs. Even with countless trips to specialists, frequent blood tests, and even a few MRI’s- no expert could decipher what’s wrong with Imogen. There were a few murmurs of autism, but each doctor told Dallas and Cale that it was too soon to tell. Even her older sister Valerie, who works as a physician at a children’s hospital, could not give her a sound answer. Only noting that autism often goes undiagnosed in black girls due to the lack of studies on them. Imogen could not be helped. Dallas could not help her. She couldn’t help but feel guilty. She always felt guilty. Even now, after raising her voice at her daughter. Is she not just as frustrated as Dallas? For there to be something wrong and be unable to communicate it- is that not its own hell? Thick salty globs of water littered Dallas’ face. The wetness of her tears soaked her jeans as they fell onto her lap. Thoughts of failure as a mother rang through her mind, making her want to cover her ears and scream in response in an attempt to drown it out. A large warm palm is the only thing that brought her back. Lifting her head off the wheel, her eyes met Cale’s. He smiled softly.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

They were simple words. Idyllic in a sense, but they were enough to ground Dallas. He continued to rub soothing circles along her back as he turned to face a still-crying-Imogen. “Imogen, would you like to sing a song with me?” With his free hand, Cale fumbled with a cassette he pulled from the glovebox. It was one Hattie had given him a few years ago. One that Dallas’ listened to constantly throughout her pregnancy with Imogen. Justifying her constant playing of it by stating “the baby likes it”. He popped into the dashboard and quickly turned to Imogen’s favorite song- Ella Fitzgerald’s cover of I’m Getting Sentimental Over You. As Cale hummed along to the melody, Imogen’s crying slowed and eventually stopped completely. Although she was still soaked from her tears, she sat calmly in her car seat watching her father closely. He smiled as he caught her eye. “You really like this song, huh?” Cale turned back around. His head lightly rested against the back of the seat. “So does your grandma.” Without turning his head, his eyes shifted over to Dallas. Much like Imogen, she was still watching him intently. “It’s gonna be alright. I promise.” He was smiling more widely now. “We can handle this. Me and you, remember?” As she opened her mouth to speak, Dallas was interrupted by a honk. Whipping her head to face the road in front of her, she noticed traffic had begun to move again. Quickly composing herself, she lightly tapped the gas pedal and the car rolled forward. Exhaling, her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror once more. “Immy, you okay baby?” Imogen’s eyes now heavy with sleep, she shifted in her car seat letting out a soft groan.

That meant yes.

#written works #anchors 1 #*dallas sumner #*imogen sumner #*cale sumner #Lykaia #my characters

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bracketsoffear · 1 year ago

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Lord Havelock Vetinari (Discworld) "Lord Vetinari is the patrician of the largest city on the Disc, Ankh Morpork which he, quoting another character "plays like a fiddle". He came into the role and totally changed how the city works, pulling apart some old structures and repurposing others for himself. He is aware of virtually everything happening in his city and uses them to his advantage. He is never straightforward with people, constantly manipulating people so that they best serve Ankh Morpork. He is always in control, even when locked up in his own dungeons he controls the lock to the door, even when ousted from his position for a military commander to take emergency power his plans hold steady and he managed to avert the war through trickery. He is a puppetmaster who will hand the puppet their strings because he knows they'll do what he wants them to do anyway."

Director Lee Harvey Oswald (The Department of Truth) "In The Department of Truth, the protagonist’s boss (and the director of the titular department) is a much older Lee Harvey Oswald, though it’s not explicitly known which version of him he is. As in, what story of the assassination is true? Is he the CIA stooge? The innocent patsy? The lone gunman? Our protagonist muses this question in the second issue and can only conclude: “He’s probably not the one killed by Jack Ruby.” And looking at the picture the comic paints of who he is now, he seems much more the type to spend his time in Howard Hunt’s circles than Kerry Thornley’s, if you know what I mean. He has become the image of the perfect Cold War-era fed with his browline glasses, dark suit, quips about a new generation gone soft, and an ever-present cigarette. And that’s because he always has been that. He joined the Department as an agent when he was 19, working to counter the Soviets and gain information on their country’s equivalent of the D.o.T. And we, the reader, do not know what happened on November day in Dallas, but neither does he, it seems. Kennedy stood against the Department and it was his job to take him out, but in that book depository, he saw the Scarlet Woman (see the Extinction poll) holding a sniper rifle, ready to tear apart the country’s sense of truth with a bullet. (Well, three.) But as the story of the assassination spread, so did the idea of Lee Harvey Oswald, the concept of the shadowy assassin that was seen on the front pages, the conflicting theories and paranoias made manifest. To quote Hawk Harrison (another character), “the living embodiment of every horrible thing people think the government is capable of, filled up into a man-shaped thing.” No matter how human he may or may not be, he might as well be American paranoia personified in function. He’s a man desperate to do whatever it takes to uphold the ideal of what America is supposed to be, that Shining City on a Hill; a man fighting in a war of propaganda and information and disinformation, a war of stories and ideas. To quote Indrid Cold, he’s simply a “dream this country is having.”

History is, of course, written by the victors, and facts can be rewritten by them as well. After Lee’s “death”, the previous Director (Frank Capra) put him in the Department’s archives to try and figure out who the Scarlet Woman was, only for him to use the research to find a new way of doing things, a way to shift reality through manipulating what people believe to be true on a large scale through media, and symbolic imagery, and simple lies that serve to reinforce what the public wants to believe about this country, and for that, Richard Nixon appointed him to the job we know him in, Director of the D.o.T. Director Capra was a naïve idealist who truly believed that the American Dream was not only real but could be achieved through hard work. Lee knows that the American Dream is a lie, but my god, he will do what it takes to make it real, no matter how underhanded the tactics. If you can control the narrative, you can control the Truth.

For most of his tenure, it was the height of the Cold War, there was a distinct enemy to push against. It was a conflict of countries, of ideologies, of two superpowers trying to keep their way of life at the expense of the other, and it was the U.S. that won out. There is another version of the 20th century, the one that was once real, where the founding ideals of the USSR were much closer to being realized within its border, it was something better than what it became, but the U.S. won the propaganda war and what was once simply a fact had become a hazy fiction that never happened. And so the victor rewrites history.

And how does one become the victor? Through whatever means necessary, from fabricating events that later became real, to assassinations, to media manipulation, to the creation of the Satanic Panic itself, playing off paranoia and Christian nationalism to strengthen the idea that America is something that exists, that the American Dream is worth fighting for. (And of course, in the case of the latter, to deflect media attention from the whole Iran-Contra Deal.)

Finally, I leave you with this monologue: “I know you don’t trust me. I don’t care. I’ve done enough bad shit, and spent the last sixty years of my life lying through my teeth every goddamn day. I don’t need you to trust me. But I need to trust you to know that the ends justify the means. You’re sour over your star-faced man. Hawk told you that he stoked the fire there, tried to make it seem realer than it was. That we had a vested interest in people believing that Satan was lurking behind every corner. I was younger then. I was stepping boldly. I was trying to defend the dream of what America was supposed to be. Not let those Russian fucks dictate our future. I’ve done many things that haunt me, more than you can imagine.”

This description has been abridged. Click link for Director Oswald's full description.

#web poll #the magnus archives #the web #poll #discworld #the department of truth

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kazosa · 2 years ago

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Wildwood Prequel: the Kiss

Summary: after some time apart, you and Jensen meet up again as adults and spend a weekend close to Christmas together.

Pairing: Female reader x Jensen Ackles

Word count: 5450

Warnings: language, grouchy Jensen, little bit of fighting

A/N: please remember this is just fiction and not intended to be disrespectful to any real life people.

Banner and Content Editor credit: @coffee-obsessed-writer

December 1998

The hotel you booked finally came into view. You specifically chose one that was close to the highway so you could roll in, check in, and fall into bed. It had taken you all day to get there, but you made it in one piece and you’d been instructed by your parents to let them know ASAP. The ridiculous flights you’d taken, the long layovers in both Omaha and Chicago, then the rental company at Dallas didn’t hold your reservation and had to work with one of the other companies to get you in a car. First thing you did after you parked your car at the hotel was grab the cell phone to call your parents. When mom and dad were satisfied, you got your bags and went inside the hotel.

When you checked in, you got your key and a message that had been left for you. You didn’t even look at it, you just shoved it in your jeans pocket and took the stairs to find your room. Taking the stairs helped stretch your aching legs and get the blood flowing again.

You didn’t bother taking time to check the room over, you just turned the heat down then flopped on the bed. For sitting in a car for an hour and airport terminals all day, you sure were exhausted and it was already dark outside. You left home in the dark and arrived in the dark.

For months, you’d been looking forward to the first return trip to Texas since you met Jensen. Every now and then he would send you a letter and he would answer your questions in detail then ask you questions of his own. Your favorite letters were the ones where he told you everything that was going on in his life and the parties and events he had gone to. That first year in California had been hard on him but he kept plugging away and going on all of the auditions he could get to in his free time. He was having a hard time getting something going that was steady when Days of Our Lives finally happened. He was so excited and happy to be working a steady job. When he knew the show would be taking a long enough break for him to go back to Texas, he told you right away and asked you to go down to visit. You pinched every penny you could so you would have enough money for the trip and have a good time while there.

The clock showed the time as being a little after six and you wondered if you would have time to shower before Jensen showed up. You hadn’t talked to him yet, but he always seemed to know when you were thinking about him. Then you remembered the message the front desk gave you and pulled it out of your pocket.

“Where are you? Call me. J.” It read with a phone number written below.

It had been a year and a half since you’d seen him last and though you had kept in contact with him, you were still feeling nervous to see him again. Being a total chicken shit, you decided to wait until after you showered. You pulled from your suitcase your favorite Tommy Hilfiger button-fly jeans, flannel shirt, t-shirt and your new Doc Marten shoes, then went to shower.

You took your time, not just to get energized, but also the least you could do to be presentable for your friend. One of his letters mentioned getting together with some of his friends. So maybe there would be some cute company for you.

Almost as soon as you got out of the shower, you could hear knocking on the hotel door. You hadn’t even gotten your lotion fully on yet. You wrapped the towel tightly around your chest, clutching it closed as you went to the peephole to see who was knocking. Heart racing, you looked out to see the pretty-boy himself, looking back and forth down the hall, before rapping once more.

“Jensen?! What the fuck, dude?” you said through the door.

“Yeah, Open up,” he answered.

The deadbolt turned with a satisfying metallic clunk. You unfastened the chain and cracked the door.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“You were supposed to call me. Can I come in? I feel like I got my ass hanging out out here,” he said.

“My ass is literally hanging out, I just got out of the shower,” you scolded.

“Oh,” he said quietly with a cute little blush rising to his cheeks. “Please let me in?”

You, of course, relented and opened the door slightly for him while you backed into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“Sorry I didn’t call right away. I wanted to get a shower first. I kinda had a feeling you might show up.”

He looked around her room for a minute. Nice. Clean. Two queen beds. Fridge. He sat down on the floor near the bathroom door with his back against the wall. It had been a long time since he’d seen her and he’d gotten impatient.

“How long can you stay?” he asked through the door.

“I have to go back Sunday so I can be ready for work on Monday,” she said. “So what’s the plan? Are we meeting up with your friends tonight?”

Say something. I missed you. Good to see you. I like your hair.

“I was thinking maybe we could do something just you and me,” he said. “You can meet them tomorrow.”

“What’d you have in mind, and do I have to dress up?”

He didn’t care what she wore. He almost wanted to just grab her and kiss her once and for all, if for nothing other than to see if anything was there.

“Nah, just whatever you’re comfortable in. I know a place that’s pretty relaxed and has a pool table,” he said.

The bathroom door opened and (Y/N) stepped out. She looked cute and was dressed not unlike himself and she smelled great.

“You changed your hair,” he noticed. It had gotten longer and rested just past her shoulders.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s been a while. Started growing it out after I saw you last,” she said.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah, just need my coat,” she said, moving past him to grab her simple leather jacket.

“Are you going to be warm enough in that?” He noticed it didn’t look very thick. “It gets pretty cold at night.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s cute that you think that,” you pulled on your coat. “Besides, it takes a lot for me to get cold.” You made sure your wallet and room key were in your inside coat pocket, then you were ready to go.

He took you to one of the most unique bars you’d ever been to, which hadn’t been many, but you doubted very many were a mix of sports bar, honky tonk, live music venue and poolhall. He led you to a spot that had less people and had you slide into the curved booth first, then slid in from the opposite side to sit close to you, but not too close. It was nice to have him close and it never failed to amaze you how incredibly good looking your friend was. You wondered if he thought the same about you, but immediately discarded the notion. Guys just didn’t think of you like that and if they did, you weren’t interested in them.

“I know I said this before, but it is so weird to see you on TV. I can’t believe my dorky friend is a TV star,” you said to him. “What’s it like? Do you love it?”

“Honestly, I love it. It moves fast, but yeah, I love it,” he paused. “Do you ever watch?”

He really put you on the spot. “Um, well, I’m usually at work when it's on, but there were a couple days I was home sick and caught it.” Please don’t ask my opinion…

“Yeah, I know, soaps aren’t for everyone, but I’m going to get good at acting then I can do other stuff.”

“Hey man, it’s legit work and now that you have your foot in the door, you have to bust through,” you said. “You know, I told people you’re my friend and they just think I’m obsessed.”

“Just show ‘em the pictures,” he reasoned.

“Yeah, I could, but then I wouldn’t feel like I have you all to myself. No one asking me about you or trying to use me to get to you. Plus, it's a nice secret to have and I could have fun with it.”

“What do they say to you?”

“Mostly it’s just ‘Oh yeah? Prove it.’ and I tell ‘em to fuck off if they can’t take my word for it.”

“Maybe I should take you to an event when I make it big. That’ll shut them up.”

“Oh god, no. I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?”

“Cuz you should go with someone as gorgeous as you. I’m the nerdy, frumpy girl who makes her girlfriends look better in comparison.”

“I don’t like it when you talk about yourself like that. You’re be–”

“Hey hey hey there he is! And this must be the girl you wouldn’t shut up about?”

He should have known better than to go to one of his favorite places. Of course they liked the establishment too and would visit on the same night (Y/N) got into town.

For a moment, you had a little panic, until you realized Jensen knew these men. Without notice, they all began sitting down in the booth, forcing you and Jensen to smash together. The boy next to you had dark hair and eyes and smelled nice. The other two that shoved Jensen into you were also good looking, because of course they were, pretty cool kids flock together. They were all chatting like crazy and you started feeling anxious. You put your hands on Jensen’s leg, getting his attention.

He moved his hand to rest on top of yours, his fingers curling around your hand before turning his attention to you. He turned his head so he could talk softly into your ear, still squeezing your hand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were coming. Are you okay? We can go,” he asked.

You shook your head. “We can stay, but I’m a bit claustrophobic.”

Jensen turned back to his friends, “Guys!” He interrupted their talking. “This is (Y/N). (Y/N),” he indicated the boy to the farthest left, “This is Ty.” Ty grinned his perfect grin and dimple. “This is Brent.” Brent nodded at you. “And next to you is Kenny.” Kenny gave you a warm smile. “Guys, the lady has challenged us to pool.”

Mercifully, Jensen’s friends quickly slid out of the booth and you felt like you could breathe again. The boys found a table they deemed acceptable and got it set up. They started checking the weight of the cues still in the racks. You just grabbed one that didn’t feel too heavy or too light and rolled it on the table. There was a little wobble, but not enough for you to care. When you turned, the boys were staring at you.

“What?” you asked.

Brent asked, “Jensen, did you bring a ringer?”

“She is a woman of many talents,” he grinned.

Kenny zero’d in on you, “You’re my partner!” He strode over to you, blocking out Jensen on the way. Kenny gathered you and led you away from Jensen. You definitely didn’t hate the attention and certainly didn’t mind it from Kenny.

“How long have you guys known each other?” you asked.

“I moved here about seven years ago, about the same time as Ty, and Brent was here before us,” he said. “How about you?”

You looked over at Jensen. He seemed a little miffed for some reason, while he talked to Ty. “About four-ish years.”

“He told us about you, but he left out the part about how cute you are,” Kenny sounded sincere. He looked over at Jensen who would shoot daggers in his direction.

You only laughed, “I don’t think Jensen looks at me like that.”

Kenny thought otherwise. If looks could kill, Jensen would have left him bloody. He decided it would be fun to push his buddy’s buttons. Try to anyway. Besides, (Y/N) was really cute and if Jensen didn’t have an eye on her, he did, and if Jensen did have his eye on her, it would be fun to make him squirm.

“Alright, it’s me and Ty against (Y/N) and Kenny,” Jensen had no enthusiasm in his voice.

Kenny looked at you with a knowing smile. You still weren’t sure if you bought it, but would definitely take Kenny’s attention. Jensen leaned over the table and broke without a word to you or Kenny about who would break first. Maybe Kenny was right, but Jensen could have made a move sometime, many times, and hadn’t. Maybe this was just how it would be for you and him. You could have stood to have him be a vacation boyfriend, but you were an all or nothing kind of girl. If that meant staying friends, then that was what needed to happen.

The four-ball landed in the side pocket and Mr. Good at Everything got a smug look on his face.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Kenny asked.

“Are you asking for you, or for Jensen?”

“Can it be both?”

You looked at Kenny, not knowing how to answer. When you were at home, Jensen seemed like a unicorn. He had his ambitions and you didn’t want to hold him back from anything. When you were with him, it was amazing. He gave you his attention, but nothing else. The way he held your hand at the table earlier made you feel better, but that was all the further it went. There were even times you thought he might kiss you, but never did.

“Single. Definitely, woefully single,” you answered.

Kenny smiled, “We should change that.”

“You’re up,” Jensen glowered.

Kenny puts his hands on the small of your back. “You go first. Leave me a good lay.”

“Kenny? A word?” Jensen said, indicating a place past the tables.

“Nah man,” he said watching (Y/N) lean over the table. “I’m enjoying the view.” Kenny pushed a little harder. “Great rack.”

“Watch it.”

“Or what? She’s not your girlfriend, Jensen.”

“As far as you’re concerned, yes she is! When she’s with me, she’s off limits.”

“I guess I should take her back to her hotel.”

The rest happened in a blur. Jensen shoved Kenny and the next thing you knew, Kenny and Jensen were a mass of arms and legs pummeling each other. Ty stopped you from stepping in and nodded to the large bouncer approaching. The bouncer had a little trouble separating them but eventually pulled them apart. A couple more bouncers came over to hold them back and the original guy came over to you and Ty.

The first bouncer spoke to you. “You know them?”

You shook your head. “Thought I did, but…”

“He says he came here with you.” You nodded. “He’s leaving. You don’t have to go, but I can call you a cab.”

Jensen, at least, had the decency to look ashamed, but he wasn’t trying to get to you either. The uncomfortable, awkward vibes coming from Ty were overwhelming.

You said to Ty, “Make sure he gets home.” Then you got up and spoke to the bouncer, “I’d like that cab.”

“You got it,” he said. “You can come sit up front when you’re ready. It takes ‘em a minute to get here.”

The bouncer left and you saw Kenny and Jensen get escorted to the door. You grabbed your things and Ty was kind of hanging back.

“Do you want me to tell him anything?” he asked.

You knew he meant Jensen and shook your head. “No, let him sit in it. He knows how to find me when he gets his head out of his ass.”

“It was nice to meet you. I hope you won’t hold this against us. We’re not usually like this,” Ty walked with you to the door.

“If we meet again, I hope it's under better circumstances. For what it's worth, you seem cool,” you said.

“I appreciate that,” he paused. “You know Jensen’s into you, right?”

It took you by surprise. “Clearly, I don’t know anything.”

Within twenty minutes you were back at your hotel and had ordered Pizza Hut to your room. There was a soda machine down the hall where you found a soda you liked and brought it back to your room. You found something to watch on TV while you waited for your food to arrive. The events at the bar kept going through your head. Had you really missed all of the signs or had you chosen to ignore them?

You thought about your friend. The way he looked at you. The way he touched you. He held your hand under the table. He made you feel like you were the only girl in the world when you were with him. Those were things you definitely didn’t imagine. He cared for you in some way you just weren’t entirely sure how deep it went for him. But Ty said… You were only sure that you didn’t know what you felt about anything that had happened.

Since you always had paper handy, you pulled a notebook out of your suitcase and wrote down all of the feelings you had about Jensen and all of the things you wanted to talk to him about when he finally would come to his senses. You’d only been writing for maybe ten minutes, and there were a lot of things you still needed to cover, when your food arrived. You barely even paid attention to the delivery person when they handed you your food. So many thoughts were running through your head and you needed to get back to your paper to get them out before you lost them. You set the food down in your bathroom, paid the driver and just about shut the door in their face.

Deciding not to watch any sappy, romantic movies, you settled on The Net while you ate and wrote out your thoughts. If he didn’t try to make things right, if he didn’t come talk to you, at least you had it all written down and would mail it to him later.

Watching The Net, you considered the pros and cons of anonymity on the internet and barely noticed your cell phone ringing. It took you a moment to find it as it was buried in the bedding. When you flipped it over to see the caller ID, it said “Eric Brady”.

“Nope,” you said, still mad and let it ring to voicemail. You knew if he got you talking you would be up all night and you were too tired for that. You wanted him to feel how upset you were. After that, you turned off your phone and tried to enjoy your pizza and movie.

Not knowing what to do with yourself, the next day, you called a cab to take you to a little mall in Richardson where you managed to kill a good portion of your day. In fact, you quite enjoyed your time alone and could take your time looking at things and not feel rushed. It was mid-afternoon when you went back to the hotel with your modest purchases. Feeling crazy, you changed your clothes and went to the hotel gym to work off all the decadent Texas food you’d been indulging in.

“Excuse me, miss?” the person at the front desk caught you before you got to the stairs. As you got close to the desk, you saw the papers they were holding. “You have messages.”

“Are any from mom and/or dad?” you asked.

“No, miss. All three are from Jay,” she said.

Reluctantly, you took the slips of paper then said, “Thank you.”

The slips all said one thing. “Please call me.” After keying into your room, the first thing you did was shower. When that task was completed, you put on your pajamas having decided you weren’t going anywhere else. Flopping on the bed you put the TV on and turned on your phone. Moments later, it booted up, then the notifications started chirping. Several missed calls from “Eric Brady” and “TX Parents” showed up as you scrolled through the call log.

You stopped on Eric Brady and pressed ‘send’.

It rang once before he answered, “Hello?”

“Jensen.” You were still feeling salty. “Returning your message.”

“Nova… can I come see you?”

“I don’t know, are you going to be a patronizing dick?”

“No. I promise,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed.

Almost an hour after you disconnected, you were getting even more annoyed because Jensen hadn’t shown up yet. The hotel wasn’t that far away from his parent’s house. Another half hour passed before you heard gentle rapping on your door. You looked through the peephole to make sure it was Jensen before opening the door.

He stood before you carrying an absurd amount of plastic bags, and a bundle of balloons tied to a vase of flowers.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Jesus, get in here before someone sees you.” You backed into the room and Jensen followed you, the door swinging softly shut on its own. You helped get the bags off Jensen’s arms then went to lock the door.

He’d brought everything you could possibly need for a night in and was unpacking the bags. You started sorting through things and noticed he liked a lot of the same things as you. A few moments passed where neither of you said anything.

“You know I could have handled Kenny, right?” you put a bag of chips on the dresser, by the paper plates and napkins.

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“That’s the point, Jensen. You don’t get to make that choice for me!”

“He’s a jerk to his girlfriends…”

“That was for me to find out!” you were fuming. “Am I your girlfriend?” you looked him dead in the eyes. “Or am I your friend? There is no inbetween for me. I can’t just be yours when we’re together, it’s all or nothing.”

“I… I know I want you in my life. I just know I want to give my career a real shot. I don’t know if I can give you the time you deserve.”

“I’m happy to be your friend, Jay, but being my friend means you gotta let me make my own choices, even if they’re dumb and I get my heart broke.”

“You could come to L.A. with me.”

“And do what? Work a p.o.s. Job? No one is going to hire me to do what I do for my paper. I practically run the joint and I’m not even twenty yet.”

“Sounds like we both want the same thing but separate roads. It’s just not the right time for us, Nova.”

“Can we still be friends? Tell each other everything and never be more than a phone call away?”

“I would really like that,” he said.

“Maybe when we’re old and conquered the world, we’ll find our right timing.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he paused, trying to get a breath into his lungs. “So what do we do now?”

You took a deep breath to help calm yourself. “You brought a shitload of food and snacks. My vote is food and a movie.”

Jensen set up his place on one of the queen beds and you were on the other to eat your food and watch a movie.

Hours later, after a couple movies and too much food, Jensen looked over at a sleeping (Y/N). He just wanted to get in bed with her and hold her. He thought he would be happy if she would just come to L.A. with him, but he also knew that the work schedule was extremely demanding. He barely had any free time except when filming was on hiatus, especially for daytime TV. Daytime TV produced an hour of TV every single day and they even filmed ahead. He barely had time at home before needing to sleep. (Y/N) deserved more than an hour a day and an occasional weekend. He’d barely even been out since starting DOOL. He hated to admit it, but she was right.

And what about her? When she wasn’t working, she barely had time for herself, either. Just from what she’d told him, she was out covering news for the whole town, doing the print layouts, and made sure the paper routes were covered, which sometimes meant delivering papers herself. She wasn’t the general manager yet, but she would be, he was sure of that. She was too good at writing and she was learning everything there was to know about print media. He knew this through her letters, but he also subscribed to her newspaper as J. Wayne. She could write for anyone if she wanted to.

He settled down into his bed and hoped they were making the right decision. Neither of them were all that old. He knew people would often grow apart… he didn’t want that and he hoped the right time would come for them.

The next day, you spent all of your time with Jensen and his family at their house. You spent time with Josh and Mackenzie, played video games in Jensen’s room and eventually had dinner with his whole family. After dinner, you helped clean up with Donna.

“Thank you, again, for dinner. It was really good,” you told her.

Jensen brought in the last of the dishes from the dining room. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” Jensen said to you.

Donna didn’t miss a thing even though she was rinsing dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. She waited until Jensen left the room to hit you with some tough questions.

“You sure make him happy,” she began. “Do you think you’ll be going to California with him?”

Donna pulled no punches. “No. We talked about it. We decided we want to follow our careers and maybe in the future we can see what happens.”

Donna looked a little upset. “Oh, sweetie,” she didn’t want to tell them what to do, but felt like she had to say something. “Are you sure? Are you both sure? He seems so happy when you’re around.”

“I’m happy when he’s around, too, but it’s just not the right time for us and we’re just going to be friends. He needs to follow his dream and I want to follow mine. Both are very time consuming. I don’t want to be reliant on Jay for my bills or happiness. I’m not even twenty yet,” you hushed your voice. “I love Jensen, but we’re too young for that kind of commitment.” You spoke normally after that. “Also, I don’t know if I can take the women who will throw themselves at him. I’m not one who can forgive and forget.”

“Well,” Donna began, “you two seem to have a very mature look on this.” You noticed she still looked somewhat pained at the news. “I won’t pretend I’m happy about it, but I respect it.”

The kitchen and leftovers were nearly all put away, the counters just needed to be wiped down. Seeing Jensen’s mom’s reaction had thrown you. You really hoped you knew what you were doing.

“When is your flight tomorrow?” she asked.

“10:35,” you answered.

“Do you want to stay the night so you don’t have to get up so early?” You shot her a look. “You could stay with Mackenzie.”

You got your heart rate under control. “No, I paid for the hotel room, I should use it.”

“Okay, but the offer stands. It’s not like Jensen wasn’t with you all night last night…”

“Oh my God… he had his own bed, Donna!” You felt the heat rush to your face. “God, it’s like having another set of parents.”

“Who? Us?” Alan walked in with Jensen, with whom you could not make eye contact. “I think it will make your mom and dad happy to know we’re looking out for you, too.”

Jensen put his arm around you and spoke softly to your ear, “What’d I miss?”

“I told your mom we’re not a thing,” you whispered, holding onto him.

“Oh,” he said softly and gave you a squeeze. “Are you good to stay a little longer? Mom wants to do hot chocolate and give you a gift.” He held you by your shoulders now. He saw the terror in your eyes. “Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I’m pretty sure she got it today and they’re not the type to expect a gift.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Jensen!” you whispered. “I should have known better! I even went shopping yesterday.”

“Nova. Breathe,” he smiled. “You’re family. They love you and you can do no wrong in their eyes.”

It should have made you feel better, but it didn’t, especially since you’d basically shot Jensen down. When you’d calmed down again, you sat next to Jensen on the couch and Donna brought you a square present that felt heavy on your lap. All eyes were on you and you could feel them waiting for you to open the gift. You ripped off the paper to find a plain white box. Inside the box was bubble wrap, which Jensen took from you, and you pulled out a large glass orb with dolphins inside.

“Oh wow,” you said.

“Do you like it?” Donna asked with a hopeful smile. “Jensen told us you like dolphins and glass.”

It was then you realized Jensen got his eyes and smile from his mom.

“I love it. It’s so pretty. I know just where I’ll put it so I can see it all the time,” you told her. “Thank you so much, for everything. It’s been a great little break coming here to see you all.”

You and Jensen hung around for a while longer and his family felt compelled to tell you all of his embarrassing stories. And you loved every second of it. He hid his head behind you and you were on the edge of your seat eager for more. Eventually, after a long goodbye, Jensen took you back to your hotel.

When you stepped inside your room, housekeeping had been there and the beds had been freshly made and the whole room cleaned. You turned to say something to Jensen, but saw he was still right inside the door.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming in?” you asked.

“No, not tonight. I think I’d better get back to the house.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to not go back on my word,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You stood frozen in place staring at the empty space where Jensen had stood. Not for the last time, you wondered if you’d made the wrong choice.

All night you tossed and turned. You were trying to act normally, thinking of anything but Jensen as he walked you to your gate. Neither of you were walking very fast, like you were prolonging your time together. They had just called boarding as you approached your gate. You checked your ticket and your section wasn’t boarding just yet.

“Hey, Jensen?” you put down your bag.

“Hmm?”

“Are we being dumb?” they called your section and you glanced in the direction then turned back to Jensen. He looked especially cute with his hat turned backward.

“Probably,” he shrugged. He’d been thinking the same thing, but he didn’t see a way for them both to get what they wanted. They were calling her section again. When she looked up at him again, he took his moment.

In one step, he moved closer and drew her to him. He put his arms around her waist and she held his shoulders, her hand touching his neck as he kissed her.

“Miss!” the gate attendant was trying to get her attention. He kissed her once more and released her. She quickly grabbed her luggage and dashed to the gate, turning back briefly, she gave him a little wave. He barely raised his hand in return before she disappeared down the gangway.

#jensen ackles rpf #wildwood #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #spn fanfiction

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