#chevy gang

[fxdbaby]

⚡️⚡️

[iamthehamburglar]

[my-rights-are-grian-rights]

I just realized your pfp isn't Montgomery Gator.

that is correct!

[onlyhappyvibes]

[zikbitume]

Wiz Khalifa, Chevy Woods - Scarface [Official Music Video]  @wizkhalifa & @CHEVYWOODS

[lovebugism]

I lurvvv ur writing so much and I totes am picking up what your putting you down, Steve picks you up for a date in his truck you’re tryna get to know each other first but the tensions just building and you can’t resist heheheh👀🫣

thank you for requesting :D — eddie and the gang get strangely protective of you when the find out steve's taking you out on a date (loser!reader, implied enemies to lovers | 1.6k)

The sun sets outside of The Palace Arcade. Dustin bursts through the doors and out into the orange-tinted parking lot, headed undoubtedly for Eddie’s rusted van. “I call shotgun!” he shouts to no one in particular, but to you especially. He’s confused and only slightly relieved when you don’t race him for it.

“You can have it,” you say with a roll of your eyes, pausing on the curb and crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie pauses mid-stride. His wild curls sway around his face when he spins to glare at you, dark eyes narrowed in an accusatory squint. It’s unlike you not to challenge Dustin for the front seat, just like it’s unlike you to dress as nicely as you are now — all pretty and made-up for a day at the arcade.

“You’re not coming?” he asks.

“No,” you shrug, pretending to be cool about the whole thing. “I told you, Steve’s picking up—”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he interjects. 

“That’s weird,” you scoff an awkward laugh. “I coulda sworn I said something earlier—”

He takes one slow step towards you, glancing up and down your form with a suspicious gaze. “What’s going on? Are you lying to me?” he rambles. “Wait— You’re not staying late to try and beat my Robotron top score, are you?”

“No!” you blurt, half-offended by the accusation. “You’re literally the only person who cares about that stupid game, anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Steve’s coming to get me because…” you trail off, speaking in hesitant murmurs as your friends crowd behind Eddie. You swallow hard and lift your chin, feigning an air of confidence. “Because we have a date.”

“You have a what now?” Lucas wonders aloud, voice a few octaves higher than normal.

“Eugh!” Eddie groans, much louder than probably necessary.

“It’s not a big deal!” you shout back.

“You guys are gross,” Dustin grouses.

“It’s one stupid date!”

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs emotionlessly. “But one stupid date turns into one stupid year together. Which turns into one stupid marriage and having stupid babies—”

“You sound jealous,” you laugh.

“…Of you or Steve?”

“Either.”

“Doesn’t matter— It’s still disgusting,” he concludes, face screwed with horror. “Now whenever I see you guys, which is practically all the fuckin’ time, all I’m gonna be able to think about is you and Steve boning each other.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a pervert,” a familiar voice quips from a distance. 

Your heads whip in sync to find Steve sauntering down the sidewalk with his hands in the front pocket of his creased slacks. He’s wearing his good khakis, and the nice sweater his mom got him for his birthday. An angel, fallen from the heavens, now landed in your lap.

Eddie scowls while the brunette boy flashes you a lopsided smile. “Ready to go?” he asks you, despite the number of curious leers from the surrounding teenagers.

They’ll probably never get used to King Steve having a thing for a weirdo like you. 

You won’t either.

“Yes, please,” you lilt quietly and take the hand he extends towards you. His palm is warm and softly calloused under your touch, almost the exact feeling of velvet.

He leads you a few spots down to where his truck sits idling. Eddie calls behind you, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright? Actually, no— Don’t do anything I would do.”

You smile over your shoulder. “Whatever, Eds."

“And don’t keep her out too late, either, or I’ll call the Chief,” Dustin shouts, rushing to the two of you when you disappear between Steve’s pick-up and a rusted Chevy. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, trying hard to be intimidating despite his oh, so pinchable cheeks. “And, trust me, I’ll know.”

He leaves out the part where you live across the street from each other.

You nearly say something about his empty threats until Steve beats you to the punch. “I’ll have her home by midnight, Dusty-Bun,” he cajoles over his shoulder, opening the squeaking passenger-side door for you.

You giggle to yourself and duck inside. 

The pleather interior is still smooth, with little to no signs of weathering. And everything in it smells like Steve — his cologne, his hair gel; the cigs he smokes, the gum he chews to cover it up. It’s a sweet sort of musk that makes your head swim.

“Don’t call me that!” you hear Dustin gripe when the driver’s side door opens and closes again.

Steve puts the keys in the ignition. The engine roars to life. Wham! plays softly on the radio. He sends Dustin a measly wave as he backs out of the parking lot. The boy flashes him his middle finger in return.

“Sorry about them,” you murmur, sliding the seatbelt over your chest.

Steve laughs. “You say that like I don’t know ‘em.”

“Still. They’re total freaks. I feel like I should apologize.”

“Nah, don’t— don’t worry about it,” he stammers, suddenly very hyperaware of the song playing on the radio. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. A sickly sweet pop beat that he can hardly stand, so he figures you must despise it.

His hands grow clammy on the steering wheel, and he readjusts his grip. “Uh, you can put a tape in the deck. You know. If you want to or whatever.”

You take the opportunity to fish through his belongings with perhaps more swiftness than you mean to. He motions to the glove box, and you lift the handle to open it. Right on top of the unorganized cassettes sits a tube of lipstick — a tiny golden thing with a ring of familiar maroon at the bottom.

“Wow. This is a really pretty shade, Steve Harrington,” you croon. “I bet it really brings out your eyes.”

Steve’s gaze flits from the road, to the lipstick in your hand, and back again. His face floods with horror, and your grin widens. “That’s— That’s Robin’s. I swear. She leaves her shit in here all the time, it’s so annoying—”

“I’m just messin’ with you, Stevie,” you giggle.

You keep the lipstick in your lap while you rummage through the tapes. Plastic clatters together under your fingertips before you ultimately settle on a David Bowie cassette. Modern Love plays softly through the speakers. You smile to yourself when Steve taps his anxious fingers against the steering wheel to the beat.

He clears his throat. “I, uh— I didn’t wanna say anything earlier, you know, with Eddie and everyone around, ‘cause they’re total drama queens, but, uh… You look really pretty tonight.”

You slouch in your seat, trying and failing to hide your smile. “Just tonight?” you tease.

“Every night,” he corrects.

“Well, you look really pretty tonight, too, Stevie.”

Your eyes narrow in a playful squint. Steve’s cheeks flush a faint pink color. He rolls his eyes and turns away. “Stop flirting with me,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“You started it!”

“No, I was being sincere. You’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“Oh, am I?” you lilt.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why does that have to be such a bad thing, huh?”

Steve glances at you for a moment. The amber streetlamps whip by every few seconds, casting flitting shadows over his statuesque face. “…You’re doing it again,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you say, though the way you look at him says otherwise. 

You sit up straighter and flip down the truck’s visor. A sliver of your eyes shows in the small mirror there. You slide the top of the lipstick off with a soft click. 

“Think Robin will mind if I use this?” you ask him, already twisting at the bottom of it.

“I think Robin forgot it existed the second she left it in here,” Steve scoffs.

You smear the muted rogue over your bottom lip, then rub your mouth together to disperse the satin onto your top one. It feels strange there, like a heavy swathe of powdery silk.

The last time you wore lipstick was senior prom, you think — and even then, you'd wiped it off as you snuck into the Hellfire classroom to finish Gareth’s D&D campaign.

It feels foreign on your lips now, but a good kind of foreign, as you turn in the leather seat to face Steve better.

The mischievous look in your eye makes him cower slightly. It makes his heart skip a beat, too, but he cowers nonetheless. “What are you doing?” he wonders without taking his eyes off the road.

“Nothin’,” you lilt, cupping his left cheek in your right hand. “Just focus on the road.”

His breath catches when your lips press to his jaw, lingering there to stamp the shape of your mouth onto his skin. He tries hard to focus on the road, but he gets quickly drunk on the feeling of you — on the warm hand on his face, on the soft plush of your lips, and on the perfume spritzed on your neck he can smell from here.

He has to remind himself to breathe while your mouth kisses wherever it can reach — his chin, his cheek, his temple, his forehead.

The entire right side of his face is soon marked with your lipstick stain. It makes him feel slightly unbalanced. He needs you to do the same to his left side, too, so he can feel whole again.

“What was that for?” he wonders aloud, breathing heavily for a reason he can’t name, as you settle back in the seat beside him.

“For bein’ so pretty,” you shrug.

“You know I can’t go into Enzo’s looking like this, right?” he laughs.

“Well, maybe we don’t have to go to Enzo’s at all. Maybe we could go somewhere a little more… private.” 

Steve’s eyes flit to you once, then linger on your face for longer than he means to. Your lipstick has smudged softly from where you’d kissed him so ardently. Your mouth is slightly swollen from it, too, as it curls into a mischievous grin. He shakes his head and turns away before he can drown in your eyes.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “Lover’s Lake it is…”

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Blind Boy 🥀

(An Ominis Gaunt friends-to-lovers playlist)

A/N: Please listen in order. There's a method to my madness.

Ominis Gaunt fell in love slowly...

It began, he thinks, when he started hanging out with her. Without Sebastian that is.

Young folks - Peter Biorn and John

Lake Shore Drive - Skip Haynes

She makes him rather happy. It's odd...

Dog Days are Over - Florence + the Machine

Sunshine Lollypops and Rainbows - Lesley Gore

She understands him like no one else. And even if she doesn't, she never pretends to. Just listens.

Wow, I'm Not Crazy - AJR

He really likes his time spent with her. He thinks about her when she's not around. She occupies his thoughts rather a lot. Her time feels like a currency and he fears running out. He's never had to be afraid of any sort of lack before.

putting a spin on Ophelia - Egg

What is this warm feeling? A dream - a wish, certainly. His parents would hurt him if they found out... Besides, he's just the blind boy. Who's he kidding?

One Last Wish - Casper

If I Could Ride A Bike - Park Bird, Chevy

Creep - Radiohead

It's impossible... but what's the point of it all if he doesn't at least try? It could be so beautiful. He doesn't have to be brave about it.

Do Not Let Your Spirit Wane - Gang of Youths

Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys

He starts to try.

Passing Papers - Egg

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Are You Bored Yet - Wallows

Please Notice - Christian Leave

Feelings Are Fatal - Mxmtoon

These feelings are deeper than he thought. He can't help but indulge them.

Can't Help Falling in Love - Elvis

Amazing - Rex Orange Country

Golden Hour - JVKE

This Side of Paradise - Coyote Theory

Can I Call You Tonight? - Dayglow

I Couldn't Be More In Love - The 1975

It's so wonderful. It's beyond good. And she's always so kind to him. So perfect.

Infinitely Ordinary - The Wrecks

Remember When - Wallows

Ratisim - The Suicide Squad

One night in the Undercroft, he plucks up a little courage. And then... then he asks that girl to dance.

Not About Angels - Birdy

Once Upon A December - Anastasia

The Princess Diaries Waltz

And oh... oh he's fallen so far. He's hopeless.

Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran

Line Without A Hook - Rick Montgomery

First Kiss.

Like Real People Do - Hozier

And things just get better from there...

I Hear A Symphony - Cody Fry

Say You Won't Let Go - James Arthur

I Feel Good About This - The Mowgli's

Darling - Christian Leave

Love - Lana Del Rey

the world could end with you - Llunar

After graduation, he proposes. The ring doesn't come from a distant ancestor - it's not plucked off his family tree. It's just for her. For that lovely muggle-born girl and nobody else.

Until I Found You - Steven Sanchez

His first night with her is better than he ever could have dreamed.

Saturn - Sleeping At Last

He elopes with her two months later. And married life with her is perfect. Utterly and completely perfect. Away from his family and his high-society upbringing... it's lazy and soft and simple.

Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson

Waltz for Sweatpants - Cody Fry

Would That I - Hozier

You Are Enough - Sleeping At Last

Photograph - Cody Fry

Love theme:

Hearing - Sleeping At Last

Happy Valentine's Day 💘

[outsidersheadcanons]

What the gang wanted to be when they grew up when they were kids

Ponyboy: Either a famous writer or a high school teacher (which I like to believe he became both. Imagine Ponyboy Curtis teaching “The Outsiders” 😭)

Sodapop: A veterinarian (he gave up pretty quickly when he realized how horrible he was at schoolwork, so it changed to cowboy)

Darry: A doctor or a lawyer. Growing up Darry always wanted a high paying job so his parents wouldn’t have to worry abt money when they got old.

Dally: He never took this kind of thing seriously. Did an assignment once at school abt what he wanted to be when he was older and he seriously wrote “a wizard” 💀

Johnny: He always thought that working on cars was pretty cool, I could see him being a mechanic or something (one way he bonded with Mr. Curtis when he was still alive was over their love of cars. Sometimes him and Soda would watch him fix the chevy up).

Two-bit: A comic or actor. Self explanatory.

Steve: A pilot, but more realistically a mechanic. He still fantasizes about flying a plane, though.

[ca-dmv-bot]

Customer: THE CAR IS A CORVETTE Z06 AND THE COLOR IS RED. IT ALSO SIMILAR TO "SEEING RED" DMV: RED=GANG COLOR, HAS A CHEVY Verdict: ACCEPTED

[seat-safety-switch]

This is a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test. If this had been a real emergency, I would be selling the stale gasoline out of my backyard full of broken Mopars before attempting to flee in a safe direction. Afterwards, I'd pick up a bunch of broken modern cars off the highway.

For as long as I can remember, the apocalypse has been a common fantasy of a certain kind of person. They think that the destruction of society will make their skillset (repressed by the big-feelings and bigger-government crew) suddenly valuable, and they will rule the survivors like kings. It doesn't occur to them that they could potentially learn new and valuable skills that make them useful now.

Of course, this power fantasy is attractive. Anyone can fall victim to it, replacing their current hurts with a sort of antisocial revenge fantasy. For instance, I have often hoarded spare parts in case the internet goes down, or the nearby junkyard disappears. If that happens, then I'll finally be justified in having kept all these worn-out Chevy Blazer windshield wiper controls. I might even fix one up, and then I'd have the cleanest windshield in the wastes.

None of this will happen. Even if we did have another world-ending apocalyptic event in my lifetime, we have now learned that what we will actually do is keep going to work. There won't be any gangs of murderous outlaws looking for gasoline and water, or at least not more than there already are. What there will be is folks helping each other out, trying to get through a tough time together, while the assholes who caused it jet off to Caracas, wherever that is.

So, in the interest of trying to be a better person, if any of you jerks need a whole pile of Chevy Blazer windshield wiper controls, come on down to my compound. Bring a nail file and multimeter. We're gonna stick it to the dealership. And if the world does end, at least we'll have a funny story to tell the other survivors as we huddle around an irradiated campfire, eating the remnants of a five-hundred pound mutant raccoon. Sure hope one of you knows how to light a fire.

[loook-behind-you]

GUESS WHOSE MOVING TO DERRY?!?!?

@henry-the-winner @patrickhockstettersweden25 @marshbevvie @hopelessgirrl

that’s right bitches!

(IT OC) LOUIS CRISS IS HERE!

last time I was in Derry was a few days ago when I was visiting my aunt and my cousin Vic (yes Henry, this is when I took those pictures) but now I’m moving there! Here’s some things about me:

name: Louis Criss

age: 16

pronouns: he/they (or they/them I’m not picky)

I drive a 1979 Chevy Camaro Z/28 (it’s blue if anyone wants to find me)

I’m Aro/Ace but will hit on your mother…or father (specifically Mrs. Tozier, four eyes needs a taste of his own medicine)

I’m ADHD as fuuuuuuuck

I live with my mom but she’s not around much

I’m around 5’6 and have blonde/brown curls with bangs, blue eyes, freckles and braces, and several piercings

I like: my car, my gecko, picking on losers, music, and occasionally painting

oh forgot to add! I’m originally from this town in the middle of FUCKING NOWHERE Indiana called Hawkins. It sucked there. Lot of weird shit….

that opening in the bowers gang still open Henry?

see you guys in Derry!

[bluedreamkhaleesis]

The Winchester Waltz

Two brothers, armed with daddy's lore,

Cruise the highways, hearts battle-sore.

In Baby's rumble, a Chevy's hum,

The demons run and the angels succumb.

Sam, the brain, with a broken and tortured soul,

Dean, the heart, filled with whiskey's blackened coal.

Together, they tread through the devil's scheme,

A road-trip nightmare, not quite the dream.

"Carry on," the prophets decree,

But nothing's free in destiny's spree.

From Lucifer’s cage to Chuck’s cruel pen,

To die and revive—then die again.

Oh, Castiel, trench coat askew,

An angel fallen, with grace overdue.

His "profound bond" with Dean sparks glee,

Or fanfiction’s wildest conspiracy.

The apocalypse, a mere backyard brawl,

Ghouls and wraiths, they've seen it all.

But still, they quip with classic flair,

Like sitcom heroes who just don't care.

"Salt the grounds, burn the bones,"

Cry the hunters with gravel-toned moans.

A Scooby gang with darker zest,

Fighting for free will, or just unrest.

But oh, the irony that fate’s tight snare,

Is written by a writer who doesn't care.

"Free will’s a gift!"—their rallying shout,

While Chuck erases, rewrites, and flouts.

In this melodrama of cosmic chess,

Where life’s a joke and death’s a jest,

The Winchesters battle for one last scene—

To finally rest, or face the machine.

And so, they drive into the night,

Two shadows framed by the moon’s dim light.

Heroes or fools, it's hard to say,

In Supernatural’s endless gray.

[zikbitume]

Wiz Khalifa, Chevy Woods - One Hundred / Business Meetings [Official Mus...  @TaylorGang !!@WizKhalifa  and  @ChevyWoods #TGOD

[spacenintendogs]

what the gang has for Transportation in my modern au

hiccup has a motorcycle he built himself basically from the ground up and he completed it his senior year of high school. he showed up to school riding it with the parking pass to go to the student lot and taped it to the handle bars. painted the same color as toothless. very much built for Speed. side pouch for toothless to sit in. it honestly breaks down a lot and he has to always fix it lmao

astrid owns a car that's got good gas mileage. i think it'd be a toyota corolla. it's silver and is covered with stickers on the back with varying messages ranging from the gym she goes to's logo to "if you can read this get off my ass" type shit. stormfly loves sticking her head out the window as astrid drives and if she's with astrid, she gets the front seat no questions.

fishlegs owns a volkswagen beetle. bright green. stickers all over the back of it with varying messages ranging from stuff about saving the planet, having a gronckle on board, and a bunch of stickers stuck on by the rest of the gang as jokes and otherwise. you immediately know it's his car. everyone always plays punch buggie when they see his car despite hiccup's insistence to knock it off because it doesn't count when they see it 24/7. meatlug has a specific seat just for her in the front :) baby on board!!

snotlout owns a Harley Davidson motorcycle with the fucking spread handlebars and everything. probably has flames painted on the side of it bc he's like that. has a saddlebag on both sides. hookfang will sit in the saddlebag and when he grows bigger (hee :)) snotlout will eventually get a sidecar that hookfang sits in :)

ruffnut drives a an old chevy silvarado pick-up truck. it's got a lot of miles on it but it runs very well. not a huge truck but it is good when they have sizeable loads to move lol. the back is also covered in stickers of varying messages but her favorite is one of those stupid ones with calvin from calvin and hobbes pissing on a logo of some random sports team she doesn't give a shit about. it just makes her laugh. the seats are torn at the seams because of 1. how old it is and 2. barf and belch like to Shred.

tuffnut also drives the old silverado but he also has a bicycle he likes to use. he loves using it!! it's bright blue with cool ass stickers all over it. he sometimes has ribbons coming out of the handlebars for pizazz. he just loves having the wind in his hair!! very serious about bicycle user safety stuff!! he knows all the hand signals!! the gang think he's weird for it but he'll always get whereever they're going first and they do not understand how (bikes = driving through small areas off road :)) he wears a special backpack that barf and belch sit in!!!

[chloeillustrates16]

Summery: Years pass, Darry never ended up going to college, trying to get Ponyboy through high school before thinking about anything else. That was until Y/n came back to town four years after starting college Warnings: Swearing, fluff, underage smoking, angst with happy ending, Johnny and Dally lives because I said so, three year time skip from the book, female reader, third person pov, for plot your parents have names, long story Word Count: 3032

The sky turned a blend of orange and yellow as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

Ponyboy sat on the rooftop, Johnny sitting beside him. The comfortable silence between the two boys was broken, "Do you think Darry will go to college after you're done with high school?"

"Probably not; he did say that the only way that he could go originally was because of the Football scholarship, but they gave the scholarship to someone else."

Johnny hummed taking in another drag of his cigarette, his arm lazily over his knee as the ash flicked off from the bud. "Hear anything from Dally?"

"Nah," the two looked at each other before laughing.

Dallas, being Dally, didn't keep his record completely clean after turning 18 years old. He got put in the cooler for minor things now, a couple of fights here and there, and the occasional shoplifting--however, they haven't managed to catch him on those.

"I thought he was going to be put in longer. What was this time?"

"Him and Tim Shepard got into again."

"Again? What he do now?"

Before Johnny could answer a voice yelled from the porch. "Ponyboy, Johnny!" The two boys slid down the roof, landing on the grass below; Sodapop shook his head with a yawn.

Welcome to Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Y/n drove passed the city landscape-shaped sign. It seemed as if the small town had not changed since she'd left. Four years ago, she got accepted into her dream college.

She turned right instead of left, she had a few hours to kill before meeting up with her parents at Tommy's, a family owned restaurant they went to often when she was home.

The nice houses soon turned sun bleached, wooden fenced replaced with metal gates with signs that said: No Trespassing and Beware of Dog.

To most, this would be the bad part of town where gangs roamed the streets, but to her, it was the only thing that screamed home. On the corner, she recognized the small white house with no Ford truck insight.

Parking her Chevy on the side before stepping out, locking the car with her key. She turned the door knob after getting passed the screen door and not to her shock, it opened without hesitation. She stepped inside, calling out.

"Anyone home!"

Her own voice answered in an echo, she looked down the hall to where the owners' bedrooms were, nothing, then the kitchen and living room.

Y/n took a look around the living room. The recliner was still in the same spot as before. Mr. Curtis used to sit and smoke, even though Mrs. Curtis would yell at him. She remembered when she was eight asking what it was he was smoking, he offered it to her jokingly, not expecting her to actually take a drag.

Y/n shook her head with a smile before looking on the floor beside the recliner, the latest newspaper always ended up beside the chair, being knocked off by one of the many rowdy boys that had come in and out of the house daily.

She stepped into the kitchen seeing a picture of 15 year old Ponyboy hanging on the fridge with a magnet. He was holding something that Y/n couldn't make out. She took the paper off the fridge reading the article.

Ponyboy Michael Curtis, 14 years old, writes a book about his experience with juvenile delinquents: Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston in the best selling novel THE OUTSIDERS.

Y/n saw the words juvenile delinquents crossed out writing heroes at the top instead. She could tell immediately that it was Sodapop's handwriting, it was scratchy and barely readable.

Her fingers brushed against "THE OUTSIDERS" with a smile, "I knew you could do it," she said to herself before sticking it back to the fridge. Glancing about around the room again, she stepped out the back door in between the living room and kitchen. The yard was surrounded by a fence that was painted blue by Mrs. Curtis. She stepped out in the freshly cut grass moving across the lawn.

She remembered when she was six with Darry and Soda, who were 6 and 3. They'd put their hands on the paint, leaving their handprints. The yells of Mrs. Curtis filling her memory as she knelt down, parting the grass. Three handprints on the blue pant, barely showing the white underneath.

She was a bit surprised that they were still there, she'd thought that Darry would've painted over the old fence at least once. Straightening up, she looked out to the back porch, the old rocking chair was still there.

She didn't bother walking back in, rounding the house to her car. Her car, which was a gift she was given to her on her 16th birthday by her father, was a 56 Chevy Bel Air, it was kept up well over the years and had not only gotten her out of trouble, but the teenage curtis that often was running from a party.

---

Tommy's rested in the middle of a street, often attracting teenagers, passing throughers, and hitchhikers. From the window, she saw her parents, talking to each other. It looked busy, as always, taking a breath, she got out of her car and stepping in the diner. A burst of cold air from the inside foyer made her shiver as she went through the second set of doors.

She walked up to her parents, and was immediately met with hugs. "How are you?" her mom, Mary, asked as she took a seat down beside her dad.

"I'm good," a sigh escaped Mary as Y/n spoke.

"I swear, it's such a shame."

Confusion lace Y/n's face as she gravitated towards Mary's line of sight. On the wall was the night of Tulsa High School State 3A winning; right in the front holding the trophy being Darrel Curtis; a wide smile on the black and white photo of the boy being lifted by his teammates.

"What's going on?" She asked, turning back to her parents.

"Your mom being sentimental." Her dad, Jeff, muttered.

Mary scoffed towards the older man's direction, "We passed Darry working on the roof of Mr. Robinson's home. He waved to us when we passed, I feel awful that he had to give up that scholarship."

"It was his choice," Jeff said with a slight indifference.

"He should've moved on with his life; I understand that his parents passed, but still."

Y/n spoke up, "What about Sodapop and Ponyboy?"

She could feel the anger sizzling in her palms as she clutched them in tight fists.

Mary sighed, rubbing her temple. "We understand Darry's decision to stay in Tusla and work instead of going to school. His brothers, poor boys." she shook her head, "Sodapop dropped out."

"He what!" Y/n yelled, shocked.

"You didn't hear?"

"No!"

"Then Ponyboy, I always thought that Dallas Winston was trouble, but murder?" she shook her head. Y/n rolled her eyes about that, it was out of self defence, they ruled it as such. Johnny only got a few months, apparently, according to Steve Randle, he changed a bit, but not for the worse.

"Out of self defense," she argued.

"Still, why was he carrying the knife around in the first place?" Mary retorted.

"Oh, I wonder," Y/n snapped.

"Alright, alright." Jeff groaned, "We're not arguing the minute that we see you."

She didn't want to pick a petty fight with her mom, but this was getting ridiculous. It was as if the two had changed since she left; they called frequently, but she often didn't answer due to being out of her dorm room or being busy with school work.

The waitress took the moment to come up to the small family, taking their order before walking off.

"So, what are you going to do now that you're officially a graduate?"

She cleared her throat, stalling for a moment before answering Mary. "I actually got a job in Tulsa."

"Oh, at the hospital?" her mom asked, excitedly. "We're so happy for you, Y/n!"

She laughed, nervously. "Thanks, Mom."

---

The sky blended into an orange and yellow smoothie as Y/n drove down the street, she told her parents that she was going to drive around before going back to the house. In reality, she wanted to see the Curtis brothers.

Pulling up to the white house, which now reflected an orangey-yellow of the sky; she stepped out of her car. Glancing behind her shoulder, see saw the familiar gangle of boys walking down the sidewalk.

Ponyboy was the first to approach her, pulling her in a tight embrace. "Hey, Pony." She pulled away, instead of looking down, she looked up. "Wow, you got tall."

"Yeah, I grew a few inches since you left." That made her laugh; soon after, Johnny, Dally, Soda, Steve, and Two-bit approached. They all gave her hugs, and a side hug from Dally.

"Johnny," she said, surprised seeing his face. He was more tuff than he was the last time she saw him; he had a kicked-puppy aura about him. Now, he stood tall and strong, like he could take on the world if it was up to him to keep it up. His jaw was sharper and his hair a bit longer, his bangs now slicked back by grease instead of on his forehead.

"It's good to see you two," he smiled. Before she could respond, Two-bit wrapped his arm around her,

"Oh, you think these two are what makes your jaw drop. You should see ol' Darry."

She looked at the brunette confused as Soda shook his head, "He didn't change as much as these two did."

"Bullshit!"

Two-bit pulled Y/n along and inside the house. The house was suddenly a contrast to what it was when she went through that morning. The record player was immediately turned on with Rock playing through; Two-bit grabbed the chocolate cake from the freezer and going to go sit on the floor with a beer in hand.

"What are you up to?" Johnny asked her as he turned inside the hallway entrance where she was standing.

"Well," she sighed with almost defeat. "I had dinner with my parents, it went okay. But, I kind of had to lie."

"About what?"

"My job."

As if on cue, all the boys turned towards her with confusion written on her face. You see, her parents weren't the only ones who didn't know about her coming home for a job, let alone the major change.

"What job?"

"I got a job here in Tulsa, but it's not in nursing."

"Then what is it?" Soda asked from where he sat on the couch, his socked covered feet on the arm rest.

"Astrophysics."

All of them looked at her with puzzled looks, she sighed. "I get to study the sky with gravity."

"Oh!" Two-bit smiled, "Hey, Ponyboy, now you get someone to talk to about the sky!"

She saw Ponyboy shake his head before her eyes traveled back to Johnny, who was still standing in front of her.

"I think it's pretty neat that you get to do that."

"You think?"

She watched the boy's head bob in agreement. If she was being honest with herself, she was scared to tell anyone. Most of the time, she was met with praises, but being back home made her nerves come back.

---

The front door swung open, all the boys popped up as Darry Curtis walked through the door, his shoulders aching. "Sorry, I had to stay--" he cut himself off seeing Y/n look from in from the kitchen.

Without saying another word, he dropped his bag at the door and walk over to her. She let out a small gasp of air as he tugged her in a tight hug, at least the muscles didn't go away.

He smelled of Mahogany, dust, and sweat. For once, she didn't find herself wanting to pull away from the oder; she rested her forehead on his shoulder. The only noise being Mickey Mousing playing on the TV.

Darry finally pulled away from her, his arms still around her waist. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, his hands pushing away the hair that had fallen.

"I wanted to see you, obviously."

"You didn't have to come all the way here to see me," he said. She raised an eyebrow, as a blush spread across his face. "That came out wrong, uh..." he pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck.

From behind Darry, someone yelled, "KISS HER ALREADY!"

Darry whipped around, no one looked like they spoke, but he already knew that it was Soda by the tone. He gave his younger brother a glare before turning back to Y/n.

"Sorry about that," he coughed. he paused for a moment before asking, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I'd like that."

Wolf whistles sounded being him, he looked up at the ceiling, his ears now very red. She held in her own giggle, covering her mouth with her fingers.

"Would you cut it out!" He yelled at the gang before huffing. "I'll be back," He whispered to her before walking out of the room. Y/n turned back to the group with a disapproving look.

---

Days had passed since she had dinner at the Curtis house. She decided to go back, to find that everyone was going to be out of the house that night except for Darry.

"Is it alright if I stay here with you?" Darry looked up as soon as Pony stepped off the porch.

"Of course, you're always welcome to stay."

"Darrel." He knew, he always knew.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll sit down." Y/n closed the door before walking towards the couch, sitting close to where Darry was on the recliner. "You look good," he started.

"Thanks," she smiled. "Um... I want to talk about it." She continued, "I'm sorry that I left."

His blue eyes went wide as he snapped his attention to her, "What? No," he said, sternly. "Y/n, you had a life. After Mom and Pops died, I did what I had to as the oldest."

"I should've stayed in Tulsa," she argued.

"No," Darry rose his voice, his tone rougher than he'd meant. She watched as the now 23 year old stood, instead of walking to pace, who she initially thought, she felt his hand grab hers as he stood in front of where she sat on the old couch. "Listen to me when I tell you that I'm so glad that you left and found something that you were good at. You knew what you wanted to do for years, all I knew was that I wanted to play Football. But I've come to realize that all those players, they don't stay young and play for long. They're quickly washed out, I didn't have anything else that interested me."

"Darry," she paused, letting him continue.

"I'm sorry that we ended things the way that we did. I know Mom and Pops were just as parents to you as they were to me, Soda, and Pony. I'm sorry that I yelled at you that night,"

Y/n stood, her hand gripping his scared callused one a bit tighter than before. Which, he returned. "Darry," she began again before getting cut off.

"There are so many things I want to get off my chest, but you knew how I was with words and I was never really able to speak them. It was the reason why Pony ran off and had to deal with those Socs at the park. I'm working on it, I really am--"

Darry was cut off by Y/n pressing her painted nail against his lips. "Can I speak now?" He gave her a nod, not trusting his mouth to not start rambling once again.

"I didn't just come back because I was meeting up with parents. I got a job here, and I wanted to see if if you'd like to try again. I understand if you're in a new relationship now, or... have moved on and not wanting to worry about a relationship along with taking care of your brothers."

"At the hospital?" he asked.

"No, there's a company here that works with astronomy. I didn't graduate in nursing."

"Then what?"

"Astrophysics, I found something I loved better than taking care of children. And honestly, I failed out of my first year of anatomy," she confessed with an embarrassed laugh.

"Honestly, you were always the more intelligent one out of all of us."

"Doesn't help I have "rich" parents." He rubbed the back of his neck,

"How are they?"

"Good."

"I'm surprised they don't think of me as trash because of what happened to Johnny, Pony, and Dally."

"Yeah, I got onto them about that; they weren't the nicests about it." Darry only gave her a nod before a comfortable silence waved over them.

Darry's hand moved from hers, up to the side of her neck; his thumb tracing lazy patterns on her cheek. She leaned into his palm instinctively before Darry stole a kiss from her. It wasn't long or lasting; when Darry pulled away, Y/n immediately pulled him back into another, this time lasting longer.

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her tunt against him. Her own arms wrapping around his neck. A laugh from her throat made him pull away, his lips curling into the familiar carefree smiled that she'd grown to love.

" I promise, I'll there more. I might have all the time in the world, but... I'm willing to make this work."

"Yeah, me too." She paused, before asking. "You seriously let Soda drop out?"

A laugh ripped from his lips as his hair fell against his forehead as he shook his head. "Yeah, it was a long story. To sum it up, he wasn't going to graduate even if he went onto senior year."

"What's Pony doing now?"

"Still track, and baseball. He found that he really liked it," a hum escaped her as she followed him into the kitchen.

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Merry Christmas everybody!