— YOU SHOWED ME LOVE .
—IN WHICH, the greasers realize they’re truly, and honestly, in love.
tags/warnings: gn!reader possible OOC, story-focused rather than comedic headcanons, fluff and nothing else(lie), comforting steve, swearing, soda’s part is rushed cuz i ran out of ideas.
ೃauthor notes⁀➷ wow shocker i leave for awhile and come back with a new theme. anyways, hi angels! i love you all sm and i forgot how much i loved being here🥹..! i missed u guys so much!
—
Johnny Cade
cars zoomed by the lot at concerning speeds, the sound of wind being broken up by the obnoxious cop sirens or a drunkard yelling down the street.
though, to you and johnny, all of that fell to deaf ears. it was like the world didn’t matter to you—as long as johnny sat beside you.
the stars seemed to only shine above you two, twinkling and gleaming in ways that you’d never seen before. the moon was your sunlight, with johnny giving you the warmth.
his head rested on top of yours that was against his shoulder, his arm draped loosely around your waist. your thigh was pressed against his, making him more than a little nervous.
sitting in the lot with you made him nervous, despite you and him dating for a long while now. you made him..giddy. that’s the word.
you made him feel like a child again; the child he never got to be.
johnny had his head tilted upward toward the stars and the sky, matching what you were doing so he didn’t look like a clueless idiot.
your hand left your lap, your eyes flickering downward for just a moment that went unnoticed to johnny. you gently grabbed his scarred hand, holding his hand in yours. you held him like he was glass.
johnny felt his face get hot. like, really hot. you were so gentle with him, the type of gentle that he had never been treated with.
he looked down at you, your head still on his shoulder. your hair was so shiny, you were so beautiful and such a perfect fit for him with the way your body mended with his in a time like this.
perfect.
his lips were quickly pressed against the crown of your head, pulling away before he got too nervous to talk.
“i love you, y’know.”
Dallas Winston
“you’ll be fine.”
“i feel like ‘m bleedin’ out.”
dallas complained as he sat on your couch, his legs spread so that you could properly stand between them. you continued to dab the wet cloth against his cheek to get the dried blood off.
there seemed to be just as much of dried blood as there was fresh, his arms and hands coverer in gauze and bandaids.
you gently held his chin to turn his head every which way you needed, because he allowed you to. he liked you so much, he allowed you to move him around like a doll.
though, he liked slyvia a lot, too and she couldn’t do stuff like that. stuff like this with slyvia was weird, even if he did like her.
so, why was it different with you? what made you, of all people, so special?
his eyes were locked onto yours, taking extra note to how focused you look on cleaning his face up. you were pretty. like, real pretty.
dallas was quick to avert his eyes when he realized just how sappy his internal monologue sounded.
“what?”
you asked, taking note to how hyper-aware dallas suddenly looked. his jaw was clenched slightly as he seemingly refused to look at you.
how you always knew when something was up with him, he may never know.
“nothin’. the cuts jus’ hurt,”
he lied right out of his teeth.
dallas’ eyes met yours once more, trying to act tough once again. he asked himself once more, what made you so different?
“are you sure?”
you dropped the wet cloth slightly, the rag no longer against his cheek. you looked worried, and you sounded just as nervous.
you cared.
you cared for dallas winston. that’s what made you different.
dallas knew you were different from his other flings.
he liked his other flings. he loved you. he loved that you cared for him, genuinely.
he extended his hands out, grabbing your waist to pull you closer with a firm tug, your knee supporting you up as it was pressed against the edge of the couch.
“oh, ‘m real sure, pretty.”
“dally, please.”
“please, what?”
“don’t start with me now, winston.”
Ponyboy Curtis
you were golden.
completely and utterly golden. the sunset reflected off your skin like you were an angel, your eyes shimmering like the stars above, the flush across your face making you look beyond innocent.
ponyboy was the one to drag you out into the cold oklahoma winter in the first place. he just wanted to watch the sunset with you, the person he liked.
he protested against your arguments of, ‘it’s so cold out, though! it’s so warm inside, pony. don’t make me go out there!’ with, ‘it’s just a sunset. it’ll be for a few minutes! i jus’ wanna watch it with you. please, y/n?’
‘watch the sunset,’ his ass. he looked at the setting sun maybe twice in the span of 3 minutes. you were too beautiful to not look at.
of course, and thankfully, you were oblivious to his staring.
“it’s really pretty,”
you muttered. your eyes were locked onto the horizon, and his were locked onto his future.
his future.
the more he thought about it, he really liked you. like, to the point where whenever he envisioned a mile stone in his life, you were always there.
when he imagined graduating, you’d be there. when he imagined going to college, you’d be there. when he imagined getting married, you’d be standing at the alter with him.
he loved his future.
he loved you.
“real pretty.”
ponyboy agreed, but for a different reason.
Sodapop Curtis
the moonlight seeped through the curtains of his room, illuminating the lines that it managed to sneak it’s way through. the midnight sky was bright, yet the moon seemed to be the only focus for the stars.
soda held you in his arms loosely, your head resting gently on his chest. he traced imaginary shapes on the lower part of your back.
the sound of his fan whirling rang out through his room, your breathing falling into a rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.
soda always seemed to notice when you were about to fall asleep, and you didn’t know how he did. you were starting to suspect he might be a wizard.
he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, letting his lips linger there for a moment.
his life was hectic. it really was. he was a dropout who works a full time job to help his older brother keep a roof over their head, and he worked as a middle man in arguments.
but you, you were a breath of fresh air.
he needed you like he needed water.
he needs you.
he loves needing something, and he loves needing you.
he loves you. soda loves you so, so, so much.
“good night, baby. i love you.”
Darry Curtis
“oh, y/n,”
darry sighed as he entered the kitchen. the smell of freshly cooked dinner wafted through the air, leaving a comforting taste in everyone’s mouth.
he walked up behind you, your back turned to him as your focus was on scrubbing the last bit of dishes. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling himself closer to you as if he needed to be as close as possible.
he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes looking down at your hands in the sink. you turned your head to look back at him, your faces a mere centimetres away.
you couldn’t necessarily help the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips at seeing darry look so grateful.
darry was a busy, hardworking man. that's who he was, and who he will always be as long as he lives. he provides with no one to provide for him.
until you came into the photo.
darry was cooking dinner out of fear that soda'd burn the roasted potatoes he said he'd make, and ponyboy was just..not that good with anything other than eggs.
he was cooking, cleaning, and working. he had no time to himself, it seemed. but you, the angel you are, takes it off his hands. maybe it was to just have him all to yourself after work, he didn’t care.
you were the angel that he prayed for day and night.
and god knows how darry loves angels.
you ruffed his hair, not bothering to dry off the water that stuck to your skin. darry chuckled, lightly shaking his head in a poor attempt to dry his loose curls.
in his own retaliation, he pulls you impossibly close, attacking your face with as many kisses he could. giggles filled the room as you attempted to push yourself away from him, only for his grip to tighten.
he pulled away at his expense, pressing one last kiss on the crown of your head.
“love you, doll. i really do,”
Steve Randle
“you’re always welcomed here, steve. you know that,”
you lightly scolded him as he sat on the edge of your bed. he’d been couch hopping before he came to you, a broken and embarrassed man.
you were rummaging around in your closest for another old blanket he could use, since from prior experience, you learned that steve has a tendency to hog the blanket you two shared.
“i know, i know.”
he begrudgingly grumbled, hurriedly avoiding eye contact with you with his head down, looking at his hands on his lap.
you looked over your shoulder, seeing just how embarrassed he looked asking for help tugged on your heart strings a little.
steve was never one to ask for help, no. he thought he was too prideful, too good, for help. he thought that he was superman with the way he thought he could help himself 24/7.
you sighed, taking a few steps toward him. you squatted down in front of him, lightly grabbing his hand and holding in it yours. he finally looked back at you with lowered brows, his eyes making him look way more innocent than he actually is.
“i hope you aren’t lying to me.”
“what?”
“do you actually know that i’m always here for you, or are you sayin’ that to shut me up?”
you questioned, allowing yourself to be straightforward since it seemed like that was the only language he knew.
steve shifted his eyes away from yours for a moment, a small huff leaving his lips.
“maybe.”
“steve,”
you started, the disappointment emanate in your tone. you stood up, letting go of his rough hand to cup his face. you forced him to look back at you.
“you know you aren’t ever a burden. i love having you around. i love you, okay? i wouldn’t ever push you away.”
you stated in the most soothing voice you could muster, looking him right in the eyes to really drive your point forward.
steve took awhile to react. he just looked back at you, letting your words process in his head. after a moment, he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you close.
he buried his face in the nape of your neck, his breaths coming out shaky as he tried to calm himself.
he loved home, he really did.
and, look, steve isn’t stupid. he’s heard and understood the saying that, ‘home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.’ but he always thought it was stupid.
how do you feel at home?
well, now he gets it.
with you in his arms, you comforting him and talking to him like he was a human, and he’s never felt more at home.
and holy shit, he loves this feeling.
“love you. love you so, so, so much.”
Two-Bit Mathews
laughter rang out through your empty living room, the television being completely drowned out.
you gasped for more air as you and two-bit laughed at an inside joke that seemed to only make sense to you two. you hand your hand on his shoulder, the other on your stomach. two-bit was leaning toward you unconsciously.
“holy hell, two-bit! that’s so messed up!”
you feigned innocence, pretending like you didn’t play into the jokes that slipped off his tongue.
“well, shit! then i guess we’re both messed up since you were jus’ talkin’ about-“
“hey, wait!”
you were quick to cut him off, leaning toward him to cover his mouth with your hand.
“don’t go snitchin’ on me!”
two-bit snickered to the best of his ability, grabbing your wrist lightly to pull you toward him closer. you stumbled toward him, two-bit catching you by putting his hands firmly on your hips.
looking back at you with a sloppy smile across your face, your eyes having a certain mischievous shine to them made it hard for two-bit to look away.
you were so beautiful when you were happy. you were always beautiful.
how someone like you was able to understand his type of humour is beyond him. he just knows that he’s lucky, and that he’d be a fool to let you slip through his fingers.
he didn’t want to lose this moment, ever.
he loved moments like this.
though, he only ever experienced these moments with you. so, is it weird to say that he only loves moments that involve you? does that mean something?
does he love you?
yes, yes he does.
he’d let the whole world know that, too.
“god, i love you, pretty.”
