what a dreamy girl

“how’s ‘bout you put that game down and start heading to bed?” a faint voice calls out to you from the hallway. you glance at DARRY — your view of him transformed with the way you hang upside down on the couch — before your eyes dart back down to the little screen, your thumbs mashing at the small buttons strategically. you huff at his question, partially because you know he won’t give it up.

his brow cocks at your silence, placing the toothbrush in his mouth as he makes his way toward you. his bare footsteps echo through the hall before he turns the corner and just.. stands there; head tilted with a hand on his hip.

“i’ll go right now, dar. i’m just— shit!”

your voice lilts upwards in pitch as he grabs you from the couch, dropping your game in the process. you’re thrown over his shoulder and all you can do is pout as you hear the animated staccato-like beeps of the defeat theme chiming from the small speaker — right paired along with a bright, white “game over” on the screen.

“darry!”

he ignores your keen with a roll of his eyes. “y’know what time it is?”

you lightly smack his side with the back of your hand — not to do anything, but just a little way to articulate how much time it took for you to almost beat your high score. you didn’t realize the fact that it was actually 10pm, nor did you realize the fact that darry had been waiting for you to do your nightly routine together, like you always did.

“do you know how long it took me to get there?” head lolling down in despair, you scrunch your eyes shut once you hear his low chuckle.

“took y’about twelve seconds to get over here. see how fast time flies?” darry says, and you only cross your arms because you know it’s true. he puts you down on the bed as your body plops down on the mattress. you really need to buy him a new bed, you thought — teeth gnashing at the way the springs screech with every subtle movement.

“you’re so mean.”

“for wantin’ you to get a good night’s rest? you’re awful stubborn for shapes on a board,” he half jests, much to your displeasure. he tucks you in, blanket secure under your side so that you can’t easily access your game in the living room — and yes, he’s caught you multiple times trying to sneak over.

in spite of that, he can’t help the way his lips twitch fondly at the sight of you so focused on trying to pass a level; neither can he help the softness in his chest at the sight of soda and pony peering over your shoulder with curious smiles, either.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

the soda shop buzzes with noise—jukebox, laughter, the faint clatter of the pinball in the corner. SODAPOP’s beside you, elbow bumpin’ yours every few seconds.

“you’re gonna break that thing,” he teases.

“then i’ll fix it.”

he smells like sun on denim, hair shampooed and still warm from the morning, with a faint trace of motor oil and a hint of vanilla soap that never quite leaves him.

he shifts, kicks a scuffed shoe against the floor, and the sound reverberates, low and steady, through the wooden boards. the movement is easy, like water over stones, effortless but sure.

the air tastes faintly sweet, sticky even, and you feel it cling to the back of your throat as you watch the ball ricochet. light catches the edges of his grin, the curve of his dimple, the sparkle in his eye. it’s careless and warm, like laughter stretched out over a summer afternoon. the hum of the machine blends with the warmth of him, and it feels like you could stay here forever, letting the light and noise fold over your skin.

he laughs, bright and easy. “reckon you could fix me while you’re at it.”

the scent of cherry cola and hair grease fills the space. you press the button, hit the bumper just right—the lights flare, bells ring. he throws both arms up like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

“look at you!” he grins wide, dimple showing. “ain’t nobody better’n my girl at pinball!”

“you say that every time i win,” you say, smiling.

“yeah,” he says softly, “’cause it’s always true.”

the song on the jukebox shifts, low notes crawling across the room. his laughter, soft and easy, hangs in the air like smoke and sugar. the machine hums in rhythm with the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon, the quiet, steady pull of him near.

you lose the next round on purpose, just to see him laugh.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

the arcade hums like something half-alive, warm with static and dust. neon light spills down the walls in trembling colors—rose, amber, mint green—making ghosts of everyone who walks by.

it smells like sugar and rust, the sharp bite of electricity under layers of soda syrup, machine oil, the faint sweetness of bubblegum crushed beneath shoes.

PONYBOY leans against the next machine, quiet as the air before rain. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to; his silence has a weight to it. the kind that hums low and steady, like a car idling. there’s the scent of something familiar clinging to him—sun-warmed cotton, the faint sweetness of soap, a trace of cigarette smoke from someone else’s hand. when he shifts his weight, the floor creaks softly under the worn soles of his sneakers.

he watches as the pinball table glows faintly beneath your hands, glass cool beneath your wrists, the metal edges smooth and worn. each time you press the flipper buttons the motion vibrates up your arms, quick and electric. the ball ricochets, catching the light like a star. it’s hypnotic, the way it loops and clinks, the way the whole thing sings back to your rhythm—ding, chime, slam, tilt.

“you really like that machine, huh?” he teases, voice low, a bit shy.

“’course i do,” you mutter, not looking away from the flashing lights. “it’s got rhythm. you just gotta… feel it.”

the metal ball shoots up the ramp, and the sound—clang, ding, click—fills the small room. the air smells like oil and soda syrup. he laughs under his breath, soft and boyish.

he stays where he is, arms crossed loosely, a shadow in amber light. you think of the long stretch of road outside, the smell of rain on asphalt, the way twilight hits the edges of his face when he’s thinking too hard about something he’ll never say.

you press another nickel into the slot, feel its weight disappear. the machine comes alive again. the lights flare gold, brighter than before.

“you’re somethin’ else,” pony says. “ain’t ever seen anyone look at a game like that before.”

you grin, shoulders still hunched in focus. “guess i just like winnin’.”

he stands there a while longer, quiet, then drops a nickel beside you. “guess i’ll play next. see if i can beat ya.”

“you won’t,” you whisper, hitting the flipper. the ball rockets upward, lights bursting like stars.

“will too,” pony shoots back. he watches you, eyes warm and curious.

maybe it ain’t just the high score he wants to chase, he thinks.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

the diner hums with the soft ache of evening, that particular stillness that lives between laughter and closing time.

the air smells of fried onions and sugar, of coffee gone cold in heavy ceramic mugs. everything is amber—the walls, the reflections in the window, the halos around the lightbulbs trembling in their dusty glass shells. outside, rain presses against the glass in thin, crooked lines, the kind that never quite break but whisper when they slide down.

the game hums quiet in the corner. JOHNNY watches you from the booth, hands curled around a paper cup. “how come you like that thing so much?” he asks, chocolate eyes glued to the screen.

you shrug. “guess it makes sense. one thing i’m the best at.” your finger points to the side where your initials are engraved as a high scorer without taking your eyes off of the screen. johnny’s impressed by it.

the scent of grease clings to the counters. there’s sugar dried into the cracks of the linoleum. a waitress laughs faintly by the register, a sound that feels far away. the bell above the door rings once, then goes quiet again.

he nods slow. “i get that.”

you hand him a turn. his fingers are careful, almost too gentle; the ball drops fast. he looks up, embarrassed.

“shoot. i’m no good at it.”

“don’t matter,” you whisper. “ain’t about winnin’. it’s just... keepin’ it movin’.”

johnny moves, barely—fingers tapping against his cup, the faint scrape of his boot against tile. the sound folds into the quiet. his reflection flickers beside yours in the machine’s darkened glass—two silhouettes made of shadow and light, blurred by the glow.

the rain grows heavier outside. the windows fog. the lights hum. somewhere a car passes, hissing over wet asphalt, headlights cutting through the mist like small miracles.

you press another coin into the slot, the metal warm from your hand. the machine wakes again with a low, familiar chime. johnny’s eyes lift, just slightly, catching the flicker of color. his expression softens in the glow, and for a heartbeat the light touches his face the way sunlight does when it finds something it wants to keep.

the jukebox hums something sad. he smiles faintly, eyes soft. “you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

you nudge his arm, half-smile. “takes one to know one.”

the lights flash blue across both your faces. quiet. safe. for once, the noise don’t hurt.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

the street smells like asphalt warmed by the sun.

in your hands is a small mechanical game. scratched plastic, tiny levers, a silver ball trapped in a maze. it rattles and clinks with every tilt, every flick. miniature chaos spinning beneath your fingers.

DALLAS leans back against the curb. his jacket catches the late afternoon light. sleeves rolled to show the muscle under his arms. his foot taps. fingers brush over the leather as if he can’t stay still.

“you really get worked up over that piece’a metal,” he drawls.

“maybe i do,” you say, nudging the small device. “’least it don’t talk back.”

“yeah? i could change that.”

his scent presses close—warm leather, soap, cigarette smoke. when he shifts, heat brushes yours. your hands tilt the game. the silver ball skitters across rails, catching glints of sun like sparks.

unfortunately, it gleams a little too hard and you lose control of the small bead, getting it stuck back down at the bottom again.

“real smooth,” he mocks.

you shove his shoulder. “don’t see you tryin’.”

“don’t gotta. i win every game i play.”

he’s so smug you could scream—but then he grabs ahold of the game, hands brushing against your own as he starts to tilt the handheld again.

“see?” he says when he makes it.

you roll your eyes. “cheater.”

he laughs, low and rough. “sweetheart, i don’t cheat. i just play dirty.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you’re halfway through your fifth round of pinball, and TWO-BIT’s been cheerin’ you on like it’s a circus act.

he leans against the wall, jacket loose, boots scuffing the linoleum. he smells like sun, leather, faint tobacco. he watches you tilt and press, eyes glinting with amusement. the light catches the corner of his grin, long shadows stretching across the floor.

the ball races, slams, clatters. tiny bells ring. the metallic song echoes, blending with the distant hum of the jukebox, the murmur of kids passing nickels back and forth. dust swirls in lazy spirals, sunlight catching in every mote.

“look at her go! shoot, i ain’t seen reflexes like that since i dodged my ma’s slipper!”

you laugh so hard you miss the ball.

“dang it, two-bit!”

“hey, don’t blame me for your tragic downfall.”

the air tastes of soda, grease, and faint metal. the lights pulse. the machine hums. dust, sunlight, silver sparks, the hum of electricity, the pull of his presence—it all folds together.

he slides beside you, pops a coin in, and slams both buttons with wild enthusiasm. “see, ya gotta finesse it, dollface. real skill.”

the ball shoots straight into the gutter. he gapes.

you double over laughing. “real skill, huh?”

“machine’s rigged!” he declares.

his laughter fills the air, big and contagious. the room smells of popcorn and cigarette smoke, and he looks so proud even in defeat you can’t help but grin.

“guess i’ll let ya win next time,” he says.

“guess you’ll have to,” you tease.

“oh, darlin’, i’m always up for another round.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

the garage smells like hot oil and metal. sunlight slices through dusty windows, landing on scattered wrenches and grease-streaked workbenches. the place humming with old engines and summer air, you’re perched on a stool, fiddlin’ with a half-busted handheld maze game—one of those plastic kinds with the tiny silver ball. STEVE leans against the car hood, cigarette between his lips.

he leans against the workbench, sleeves rolled, forearms smeared with grease. he smells like motor oil, sun-warmed denim, faint cigarette smoke. his gaze follows your hands, intent, sharp, a little impatient—but caught.

“you talk to that thing more’n you talk to me,” he says with a grin.

“’cause it listens,” you shoot back.

he chuckles, smoke curling out his nose. “yeah, sure it does. bet it don’t mouth off neither.”

you shake the toy gently, metal ball rolling through the little maze, clinking faintly. the grease smell mixes with smoke and gasoline; his hands are black with oil, shirt clingin’ to his arms.

the car teeters, hits a jump, and lands just right. a small bell chimes. your chest lifts in a soft laugh. he leans closer, letting the energy of the game ripple through him. leather creaks. sparks from the metal track flash in the sunlight.

“you ever think it’s kinda like fixin’ cars?” you ask.

he snorts. “how you figure?”

“both got parts. both gotta move just right or it don’t work. patience, y’know?”

steve looks at you, grin fading just a little. “huh. didn’t think of it like that.”

you pass him the game. “your turn, grease monkey.”

he squints at it, tongue pokin’ from the corner of his mouth as he tries not to lose the ball. when he drops it straight into a dead end, you laugh again, all bright and unguarded.

“i don’t want to talk to you right now, dal.”

“c’mon!” he whined, dragging out the ‘n’ as his eyebrows raised and his eyes downturned in a puppy dog manner. you looked back at the clock, currently 11:47pm and you assumed maybe five minutes earlier those noises you heard outside weren’t stray cats fighting, it was dallas trying to get the ladder to come up to your window.

today was horrible, it was your anniversary, and he had the audacity to forget and then show up at your house begging for another chance to get you to go out with him? at eleven-fucking-forty-seven?

you had to admit, his brown eyes always made you give in no matter how stern you tried to be. whether they were slanted with a vindictive cat like stare, or big and dopey like a sad kicked puppy. you just couldn’t say no to them, even if you tried to put your foot down, this was still the case.

“dallas—“

he cut you off with a huff of your name, “just twenty minutes, that’s all i’m askin’ for, jeez.” you rolled your eyes as his facade dropped, the innocent act quickly shifting back to his regular curt tough nature. but nonetheless, you couldn’t say no. dallas winston always got what he wanted.

you walked away, dally’s eyes trailing after your figure as you walked into another room. your silk nightgown glowed in the moonlight as the creases took on a darker color as they shaded themselves, the blue-ish hue illuminating the rest of your body as you slipped away. dallas scoffed as he was about to climb back down the ladder before he head a faint, “wait.”

his eyes flickered back, watching as you emerged from the other room, only this time, with each step you took came a small clack sound. dallas looked down to see you in your shoes as you held up your jacket to show him.

“only twenty minutes, right?”

“yeah, yeah.” he muttered, watching as the bare skin was covered up by a dark coat of fabric, the zipper glimmering a bit as the moonlight shone on the silver lining before you turned around and made your way downstairs.

“so extra.” dally whispered before he climbed back down the ladder, careful to observe the ground and his feet while he stepped down each bar. the metal was cool beneath his hands, the warmth radiating off him instead because of how much he stuffed his hands in his pockets. the ladder’s paint was chipping off, revealing a silver coat underneath as it creaked with each movement dal made before finally, he spotted you coming out through the front door, back hunched as you tip-toed out.

“this better be good.” you mumbled, shaking your head as dallas carelessly left the ladder against your window and took you by the arm. he led you across town, and you thought to yourself that maybe you should’ve worn pants as you looked at your bare legs sticking out from underneath your nightgown.

with the cool breeze and your free hand—the one that wasn’t wrapped around dallas’ arm—clutching your gown so it wouldn’t fly up, it felt like you two had been walking forever. only the crickets and owls accompanied you with their songs sung in the night as you both walked through the empty streets of tulsa, careful to be on the lookout for any socs driving around in their pristine mustangs with their cigarettes hanging from their hand outside the car window.

you two finally made it to a small summer green turf, planted cautiously behind a few shops in the tall grass so nobody would steal it. “now wait ‘ere.” dallas told you, flicking the bridge between your eyebrows where your nose started as he jogged over to what looked to be a small blanket.

you cocked your head in bemusement, watching as he brought out his lighter and popped the cap open, trying to flick it on. a string of curses escaped his lips as it took a minute to start, but once it finally did he leaned down and positioned his back to light something you wouldn’t see. you stood on your tippy toes as you tried to see above before dallas snapped the lighter shut, shaking his hand once or twice to get rid of the burn from keeping the lighter open too long, and turned around to walk over and grab you by the arm.

you smiled once you took in the sight, already seeing what dallas was planning when he dragged you over there. it was a small blanket, one so small it probably wouldn’t even have enough space for the both of you, with two candles in the middle and a few snacks like cookies and packs of fruit around them. you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as dallas smoothed his hair back, licking his slightly chapped lips as he intently watched you for a reaction.

you simply glanced at him and nodded your head to the side, signaling for him to join as you took a seat on the blanket. it was just as you expected, barely big enough to fit the both of you on it, but you didn’t care. all the anger from the day melted away as you watched dallas twiddle his thumbs when he sat beside you, pressing his lips together awkwardly.

then the small candles blew out once a small gust of wind came over the two of you.

dally mumbled a few profanities as his hand made its way back in his hair, smoothing it out to get rid of the reminding feeling of how nervous—the slight sweat on his forehead making his hair stick to it.

but oh glory, when you let out a small laugh, the sound falling from your lips as smooth as honey, dallas could’ve sworn he had heart palpitations—even if he’d never admit it.

and when you looked at him, the blue moonlight shone on your face just right. the glossiness of your teeth and the highlights on your nose seriously made you look like a work of art, your eyes getting that small glimmer in them as their corners crinkled when you grinned. dallas almost died right then and there.

when you looked at him, watching as the corners of his lips—although subtle—twitched upwards at the sight of you, your smile just got even bigger.

it was comical to you. the man sitting in front of you was dallas winston. who would’ve known that when he wasn’t slashing tim shepard’s tires or stealing a few packs of kools from the convenience store, he would be sitting here in the moonlight on what his best affordable idea of a ‘picnic’ was with you. nobody could deny the fact that you had dallas winston whipped.

then you both proceeded to yelp as a stronger gust of wind started to blow away the small bags of cookies away, hurling yourselves over the blanket and clambering away to try to avoid the food flying off into the street.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this request was literally adorbs omg 😭

“you had fun today?” came DARRY’s voice from the left of you as he sat in the driver’s seat, taking you home. you guys had decided to take johnny, sodapop, and ponyboy to the oklahoma state fair, which would explain the sleepiness that laced his tone. you, though, would practically be vibrating in your seat if it wasn’t for darry’s hand resting on your thigh.

still pumped up from the crazy rides at the fair, your eyes roamed across all the bright lights littering the city as you looked out of the car window.

“so much.” you responded, beaming at your boyfriend next to you before taking a look in the rearview mirror and spotting the boys asleep in the backseat.

“you think they did, too?” you asked darry, lips pouting dramatically at how cute the boys looked, even when soda was practically drooling on pony.

darry gave you a small ‘mhm’, a tiny smile growing on his face when he looked back at them too. “y’sure you’re not tired?”

“i’m so awake right now, dare.” you chuckled a bit, turning back around and resting your head against the car seat’s headrest.

you gave a few quiet ‘ooh’s as you both were still exiting oklahoma city, even if you guys were still a long way from tulsa, looking at all the bright lights and arrows urging future customers to visit the fair.

darry scoffed as he saw the pile of cars across the way, lining up in one big traffic jam. then he turned his head to look at you, he wondered how you could always be so optimistic. he smiled fondly to himself as he watched you, head held in your hands as the exotic lights bounced off your irises, reflecting all sorts of neon pinks and blues in your eyes as you didnt take them off the noisy attractions.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“be careful now darlin’, you’ll slip!” SODAPOP laughs as you two come down from the intense food fight you just had in the kitchen.

it all started with you accidentally dusting the counters a bit too hard when some flour landed on sodapop’s open plaid shirt. now you two were both covered in various ingredients, you’re sure the yolk would take about an hour to rinse out of your hair properly. the baking you guys were doing was forgotten in the background as the batter had probably already somewhat hardened during sodapop’s sugar assault on your favorite top.

you laughed as he held your waist, the both of you looking down at where your foot was just about to fall on the slippery remainder of egg yolk and milk on the kitchen floor. “that’s your mess!”

“you started it!”

“it was an accident, soda—!” sodapop placed a chaste kiss against your lips, licking his own after he pulled away. he made a small hum sound as his eyes trailed upward when he pretended to try to guess the flavor. “hm, strawberry.”

“gross.” you rolled your eyes, the two of you laughing uncontrollably as soda eventually did slip on the exact same piece of yolk he had warned you from stepping on. that is, until you heard the strong footsteps of his older brother make his way from the front door to the kitchen.

both of your heads shot up as darry cleared his throat, crossing his arms and tilting his head. it was like he had no words for the both of you, until he shook his head once and grumbled angrily.

“y’all better clean that up.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“so i was just tellin’ her about it and y’know what this lady does?” you ranted to PONYBOY as he sat across from you at the lunch table, his fingers fiddling with the holes in the metal mesh patterned seat.

he held his chin in his palm as his eyes flickered between you and the table, watching as you rambled about something a counselor had reprimanded you for or something, all he could really focus on was you. the way your eyes lit up when you were passionate about something, the way talked with your hands a lot, or the way you bounced in your seat at just the thought of your favorite song.

pure energy always radiated off of you, not even dallas winston could resist your charm. and ponyboy curtis certainly couldn’t either.

“pony-y!” you dragged out the ‘y’ in his name as you tried to get his attention, waving a hand in front of his face. he blinked and furrowed his brows as he muttered out a quick, “huh?”

“are you even listenin’ to me?”

“‘course i am.”

“what was i talking about then?” you batted your eyelashes as you inquired in a ‘matter-of-fact’ tone, leaning forward as ponyboy averted your gaze.

his face got hot while he stammered, mouth gaping open and closed like a fish before you waved a hand at him and flashed a big grin.

“my counselor.” came your sing-song tone of voice from in front of him.

“right! just.. tell me more?”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“JOHNNY, wait up!” you called after him, jogging up and gripping onto the straps of your backpack as it moved with your every step.

you saw him, head hung low as he looked so small compared to the towering figure of dallas winston right next to him. he turned around, that same puppy dog look in his eyes as usual before he looked up at dallas. dally gave johnny a quick wink before nodding his head towards me and saying his goodbyes while he walked off only god knows where—probably to stir up some more trouble.

johnny looked back at you, muttering your name as you finally caught up to him. “hey—! you goin’ home?” you asked, shifting your weight from your hands to your knees as you hunched over and caught your breath. johnny just nodded as he watched you regain composure quickly, already back and energized.

you circled around him with a flurry of questions, questions like how his day was or if he ate today. johnny always wondered why you asked him these questions, whether you cared or not was really his main concern although he’d never dare ask.

once you guys had arrived to johnny’s house though, came a ruckus from inside. the noise traveling outside the house through a sliver of open window as you both saw two figures screaming at each other.

you saw as the corners of johnny’s mouth twitched downwards as he winced at the sound of glass breaking.

then, almost like an miracle came your voice from beside him.

“wanna go to the lot?”

once he had looked at you, it was like an instant mood lifter. you had a boyish grin on your face with your hands shoved in your pockets as your eyes crinkled with how big of a smile you had glued to your face, as usual.

how could johnny deny you?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“are you always like this?” DALLAS said as he leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, watching as you danced around and made a mess with the baking supplies.

“like what?” your voice, jubilant as ever, rung out in dally’s ears. he always played it off as if he hated how joyous it was, but if he was being honest, the way the syllables rolled so quickly off your tongue was satisfying to him. he’d never admit it obviously. being dallas winston was a tough job to keep up.

you twirled around, reaching on your tippy toes to grab something off the fridge before spinning back around to pour milk in the mixing bowl, hips swaying to the faint music that you turned down to hear dallas over.

dallas scoffed, shaking his head amusedly while he lit a cigarette, eyes flickering up at you every once in awhile. “nothin’.” he muttered, words muffled around his cigarette.

he looked at you, his eyes were empty enough that anybody else would mistake his expression for annoyance, but you knew better. you knew dallas winston better than anybody. and as you danced so freely around the kitchen, like no one was watching you, dallas admired you. you were yourself, in this moment socs and greasers didn’t matter, nothing did. the only thing that mattered to you was getting these ingredients right, and you couldn’t do that with a little dancing.

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“woah, darlin’! someone had a li’l too much sugar, huh?” TWO-BIT laughed as you bounced around. you were like a candle waiting to be blown out, flowing in place but still moving. you were definitely still moving.

you practically vibrated in place, your feet kicked in your seat as you giggled, talking about your day to two-bit. his grey eyes watched you with intent, his own grin painted on his face. sometimes he didn’t pay attention, other times he asked questions just at the right times. even if it was just pure luck, you appreciated his responses even if they were just ‘huh’s or ‘oh!’s.

“what do you think?” you finally stopped ranting, taking a break to ask two-bit once again what he thought.

he paused, taking a second to sip on his can of beer before looking off to the side in thought. then, as quick as it left, his smile returned as he finally laughed.

“i think you need a nap, babydoll.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“so what happened next?” STEVE asked, licking the spoon as he sat across from you in the diner as he watched you take a break from talking to devour a milkshake.

you smacked your lips as you swallowed and immediately put up your hand to express yourself further. “she cussed her out!”

steve raised his eyebrows as he broke off another piece of the diner’s famous cake—which he claimed was never better than darry’s yet he was still destroying it.

what you always appreciated about steve was his blind loyalty to you. even if he didn’t understand, his heart was in the right place. he gasped at anything dramatic, but he just loved gossip in general. him and sodapop were like kids around a campfire as they always circled around you while you explained to them the gossip going on around school.

steve watched as you rambled on and on, twirling your hair at certain parts and jumping up in your seat at important ones. by the time you both finished that conversation, your bill was racked up with how long you had took, and the waitresses were rolling your eyes at every “but, did you hear..”

that didn’t matter to you two, though. you just cared about talking to steve, and steve was too busy admiring you to care about anything else.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ my favs r fluttershy n rarity but tell me why i’m literally rainbow dash irl