˚₊‧꒰ა ୨୧ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

* ‧₊° ౨ৎ welcome to my angel atrium ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

( doll eyes, brown skin, fragile heart ) matt dillon’s pretty baby, elvis’s sweetheart . *ೃ.⋆ if you don’t like what i post, then simply don’t interact with my blog.

navi .ᐟ masterlist. about me. rules. ocs.

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

enjoy your stay and proceed with caution ⋆₊˚⊹

© TWOBITSBLADE 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. ‎do not copy, translate, or claim any of my work as your own.

layout, layout.

the credit for the header goes to @hesmydrugstorecowboy ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ pink lemonade with ice

you came home at around 6:00 p.m. the sky was dark, with tiny white specks sprinkled across it, as you arrived at your modest one-story home on the east side of tulsa. wanting to relax, you set down your bag and kicked off your ballet flats before changing into a nightgown and finding a ribbon to tie your hair into a low ponytail.

it was friday night, and you were ready to hop into bed with a novel and some tea—until the doorbell rang.

you froze for a second in confusion. who would be at your door at such a late hour? and tonight, you were home alone. what were you supposed to do?

then you remembered.

“shit,” you muttered to yourself, quickly standing up, dusting yourself off, and running to get the door.

your father had called a roofer to fix the hole in your roof that he’d noticed a few days earlier. that must be him!

you didn’t have time to get ready, so you simply cleared your throat and opened the door—only to freeze when you saw him.

he was tall, wearing a gray tank top that left his muscles on full display. you looked up to meet his gaze, only to be met with sharp, greek-like features and piercing blue eyes.

he gave a small smile and nodded before noticing how you seemed to be a bit… distracted.

“um, miss? m’here to fix your roof. darrel—darrel curtis,” he said, reaching out a firm, warm hand that wrapped around yours.

“yup! c’mon in,” you said quickly, turning around in an attempt to hide the blush on your face as you guided him to where the hole was.

you paused in the hallway, pointing to it—the hole from which water dripped down almost rhythmically into a tin can placed underneath it.

“mm, alright. doesn’t look too bad. how long’d it take for y’all to call?”

“what?”

“how long did y’wait to call us?”

“um, i think we called the day we saw it.”

“ah, alright. i was just confused. i ain’t recognize your voice.”

for some strange reason, what he said made you let out a small chuckle—or a giggle of sorts. you just felt so flustered at the way his eyes focused on your features.

“um, yeah, i wasn’t the one who called. it was my dad.”

he nodded before beginning to walk toward the front door, gesturing for you to follow, which you did.

“won’t take me too long. as i said, it’s a real simple one. it’ll take me ’bout half an hour,” he said, setting down his toolbox.

“alright!” you said. an awkward silence fell over the two of you before you shook yourself back into reality and walked away after asking if he needed any snacks or drinks, which he politely declined.

about fifteen minutes later, you just couldn’t resist going out to see him. but you needed a reason—you weren’t that dumb.

you looked around until you spotted something—the leftover pink lemonade your mom had made earlier before leaving for work. quickly, you grabbed the jug and poured it into your “finest” glasses—at least, as fine as a greaser family could own.

you calmed yourself down to avoid any unintentional chuckles or giggles and brought it outside before calling to him.

“um, hey! hey! d’you want this?”

your sudden voice made him jolt, nearly causing him to fall off the ladder.

“jesus!” he exclaimed, shaking his head before slowly climbing down. “you damn near killed me, girl,” he said, letting out an exhausted chuckle, eyeing you up and down.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to, i just wanted to give you this—oh my, i doubt you’ll accept it now, i wouldn’t, i mean—”

“quiet before you give me a damn heart attack,” he interrupted, taking the glass from your hand and drinking it slowly, some of it dripping down his chin.

“ah, it’s nice. you make this yourself?”

“my mama made it.”

“nice,” he said simply before checking his watch. “um, well… i really gotta get home. it’s gettin’ late, and i got some kid brothers to watch over. tell your daddy i’ll be back tomorrow to finish it, alright?”

“oh, okay…” you said, a hint of sadness clear in your voice.

he chuckled softly, and god, his gaze lit a fire within you. or maybe it was just the young adult hormones.

“bye, kid,” he said, shaking his head with a chuckle before walking away.

this is me :3 if you even care >_< !!

@hesmydrugstorecowboy is the GOAT !! 💗😓

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ feels like sugar in me

[ author’s note: hi darling, this is literally one of the most fun requests i’ve ever received! i loved writing it, and i hope you enjoyed it. kisses and hugs! ]

you were everything dallas winston wasn’t—innocent, sweet, polite. but most importantly, you were a soc—wealthy and glamorous. and he was… well, he wasn’t just a greaser; he was a full-on hood.

your relationship started out rocky—or, well, at least according to you. according to him, he had simply “caught a hot soc broad at the drive-in.” tomato, tomahto, right?

but you never really thought about your differences much, and you certainly weren’t thinking about them tonight as you absentmindedly applied your moisturizers, lotions, and hair curlers—all things dallas teased you for relentlessly. but you knew he appreciated the results, so you weren’t about to stop.

just as you were about to place your final roller, a knocking sound at your window made you gasp. you’d seen too many horror movies for this. before your brain could race through the possibilities for self-defense, that cocky bastard’s new york-accented voice cut through the night air.

“hey, sweetheart, you gonna let me in? i’m freezin’ my balls off out here.”

you scoffed, shaking your head and setting your hair curler down as you approached the window.

even in the dim light of tulsa’s streetlamps, you could see him looking you up and down, clearly skimming over your figure in your pale pink nightgown. you shook your head before unlatching the window.

he climbed in awkwardly, stepping down with a thump. his figure towered over you, the smell of cigarettes filling your nose. you smiled softly as his large arms wrapped around your waist, closing the distance between you two.

“i should be pissed—entirely pissed at you, winston—sneakin’ into my house like this.”

“but you’re not,” he replied smugly. “besides, your snob of a damn brother ain’t here, so there’s no problem, doll.”

and there it was—another one of dallas’s remarks that made you realize what he truly thought of your family.

“c’mon, dal, i’ve told you so many times not to talk like that about him. you don’t know him!” you said, your voice coming out a little louder than intended. and just like that, a new argument was brewing between you two.

“your brother beats people up for fun, baby. you consider him a good guy?”

“i—dallas, that’s not fair, and you know it.”

he was about to respond but stopped, shaking his head as his hands found your waist. without warning, he shoved you roughly onto your vanity.

“i’m not lettin’ some blonde twerp ruin what i got goin’ with the hottest broad on the west side of tulsa, y’understand?”

you sighed before nodding. you were too tired to fight.

he looked up at you with his signature shit-eating grin, but this time not to admire. he plucked at your hair curler.

“now what’s all this, barbie?”

“dal, don’t touch that! you’re gonna ruin it!” you snapped, turning back to the mirror, your lips curving into a firm line.

dallas had this weird ability to bring out a childish petulance in you—one that, even as a child, you weren’t allowed to display to your family. it wasn’t the sheldon way of doing things.

he began walking around your room—of course, he wouldn’t apologize, the jerk—observing the space as though it were an animal enclosure. the pink, girly room you had decorated all on your own.

posters covered the walls—elvis, james dean, marilyn monroe. the sheets were light pink. and god, was it hot, knowing how soft you really were beneath all that prim and proper.

dallas turned back to you abruptly, pouncing. he grabbed you from your vanity and tossed you onto your bed, making you let out a loud, high-pitched, giggly squeal.

“shit.”

you muttered it just as you heard bob’s footsteps stomping down the hall. in a panic, you shoved dallas into your en suite bathroom and waited.

bob entered in his pajamas, his hair tousled, eyes swollen with sleep.

“what’re you howlin’ for?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“nothing, bob. i just—uh—i was on the phone with cherry, and she’s a real funny gal.”

at the mention of cherry’s name, his eyes softened, something gentle flickering in them.

“ah. tell her we’re still on for nine tomorrow at the way out.”

“will do,” you said with a mock salute.

he paused.

“c’mere, kid.”

he held his arms out, and you quickly hopped into them, hugging him.

he wasn’t a good person—you both knew that. hell, everyone in tulsa did. but he was your brother, and you loved him. and you knew he loved you too.

just like he loved cherry. just like he loved his friends. just like he loved the approval he got from society. just like he loved getting away with the things he did. just like he secretly yearned for someone to tell him no. just like he secretly yearned for someone to guide him instead of mindlessly worship him.

and for that, there was no one.

he sighed, pulling away and shaking his head before clapping you on the back, making you let out a slight squeak.

“you be good, alright? you’re good.”

you smiled as he waddled away.

you let out a breath of relief as you shut the door. and in gathering your thoughts, you almost forgot about the man hiding in your bathroom—

“ahh!”

he whisper-shouted, making you jump forward and trip over your rug.

“you absolute dickhead!” you whisper-shouted back, causing him to giggle before peeling off his dirty brown leather jacket and tossing it across your room. you clicked your tongue in disapproval.

“how soundproof’s this room, dolly?”

“ugh, dallas, stop it! you’re something else,” you reprimanded halfheartedly as he joined you on the soft, carpeted floor.

THE GANG X SINGER!READER

darry curtis

✮ loves your voice, obviously, and tries to get you to sing to him while he’s in the kitchen because it relaxes him and makes him feel comfortable.

✮ one time, you two were in bed together, and you were singing him a song while running your hands through his soft brown hair. he started crying—not audibly, but you could see the tears glistening in his eyes.

✮ he’s actually not too bad of a singer himself and (at least according to me) has a voice similar to van morrison when he sings. you two sing together a lot.

✮ he was once offered to sing alongside you on a song, but he declined because, well, “he can’t take his girl’s spotlight” and “it just, uh, ain’t his style.”

sodapop curtis

✮ he’s literally so in love with your voice and is never not telling everyone he meets that his girlfriend is one of the best singers in all of america—no, wait, in all the world!

✮ he goes to your concerts and literally starts screaming, whooping, and trying to crawl on stage (before getting absolutely manhandled by security).

ponyboy curtis

✮ he was intimidated by you at first, but eventually, he realized you were more than just some glamorous glossy face for radio and magazines.

✮ he doesn’t brag about you, not because he’s not proud of you—he most definitely is. he just doesn’t view you solely as a singer. i mean, you’re his girl first and foremost.

dallas winston

✮ he genuinely feels—no, he knows—that you’re the hottest thing in all of america. he’s incredibly possessive of you and assumes a role as your manager.

✮ he loves the paparazzi and makes sure to always have his mouth on yours or his hand on your waist because he loves the fact that every man in america who wants you so much can’t have you.

✮ he goes to your concerts with his buddies just to stare at you and make you blush throughout the whole thing, to the point where your actual manager had to tell him off.

johnny cade

✮ he was intimidated by you, just like pony, but 100 times more. he couldn’t even make eye contact with you at first. but then ponyboy dragged him to one of your concerts, and he saw how gentle your stage presence was and the way your eyes twinkled when you looked at your fans.

✮ he loves when you hold him and sing to him, or even hum in his ear, because he feels so protected by you.

✮ he can’t go out in public with you because the paparazzi genuinely terrify him, and he feels so guilty about it.

two-bit mathews and steve randle

✮ they both brag about you constantly and love to make people jealous of your guys’ relationship.

✮ they love taking you out to the east side of tulsa because they enjoy seeing your reactions to their lifestyle.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ my boy’s gentle embrace

[ author’s note: hi honey, thank you so much for this wonderful request! you’re such an absolute sweetheart for resending it to be more specific! i hope this is what you wanted—if not, feel free to send another request and i’ll rewrite it. ]

as you stomped back to your modest one-story house on the east side of tulsa, each step made you feel angrier and angrier. the fact that your old, torn-up boots let the snow freeze your feet wasn’t helping—god, how today had gone wrong.

first, your english teacher had yelled at you in front of pony, which, although you knew he’d never judge you, still left you embarrassed. he was your boyfriend, after all. oh, whatever. it was too late to reminisce about that now. you had lord knows how many assignments to finish, and if you thought about it too much, you knew you’d snap—so it was better to just suppress it.

you continued trudging through the snowy sidewalk until you reached your house, but before you could even put your key in the lock, you heard a familiar voice—one that immediately soothed all your thoughts, no matter how cliché it sounded.

“c’mere!” ponyboy called out, and you quickly hopped over to him, almost slipping on the snow. the only thing stopping you was your boyfriend’s hands immediately gripping your waist.

“jesus, be careful!” he said, running a hand through his hair. “wanna, uh, stay over at my place for a bit? darry ain’t mad at me today, so he won’t have no problems with it.”

you sighed, shaking your head and dusting yourself off. “i can’t, pony. i got schoolwork for days!”

but the weariness in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“oh… um, okay… well, how about you stay over for a bit, and i’ll help?”

looking at the genuine expression on his face, you couldn’t deny him. not long after, the two of you ended up on the curtis’ living room couch. as you removed your shoes, your teeth chattered from the cold. pony turned to you, eyebrow cocked.

“jeez, you really don’t take care of yourself, do ya?”

you shot him a look almost as icy as the weather outside, which made him shrug.

“it’s just—i dunno,” you muttered, cutting yourself off.

“no, c’mon, tell me,” he pried, and you immediately folded.

“well, it’s—god, i mean, today… the way the teacher yelled at me in front of you.”

a glint of recognition sparked in his eyes.

“and i’m being assigned so much damn work,” you admitted, and suddenly, tears slipped from your eyes.

before you could even think, his hands were pressing you against his chest. pony had never been good at comforting, but lord knows he could give a good hug.

“it’ll be alright, it’ll be alright,” he murmured against your scalp, pressing gentle kisses along your hairline.

“shh, just breathe, c’mon.”

eventually, you were able to calm down.

“i’ll help you with your work to the best of my abilities, alright? and if you really need an extension, i—” he hesitated, but after one good look at your face, he continued, “i’ll help you ask for an extended deadline.”

you started crying again at his words, but this time, not out of sadness or anguish—out of contentment. your boyfriend, your boy, was there for you. and finally, in all the chaos of your life, you felt safe in the warmth of his embrace.

DALLAS WINSTON X MOUTHY!READER

✮ you and dallas met at the drive-in when he started harassing you (picture the scene with him and cherry, duh). when you retaliated, he was completely taken aback and then proceeded to chase you around until you agreed to a date.

✮ when he was teasing you, making fun of you in his own weird way of flirting, and you didn’t take his shit but gave it right back to him, he was gagged.

✮ he literally went straight to the gang and told them what happened, saying, “this broad is so cheeky, man, oh my god!”

✮ for example, one time you and him went to the dingo with your friends, and he watched as you and them jumped from the most insane topics ever. he was so concerned, just sitting there like, “what in the world is going on?”

✮ “i went to bend __ over a countertop,” “so fucking real, oh my god,” “i know, it’s big,” and he wants to run away and hide like a little girl.

✮ when you two are in public and he starts squaring up his shoulders, putting on that cocky grin, and acting all cool, and you say something like, “woah, mr. tough guy over here, check it out,” it always embarrasses the poor boy.

✮ he won’t admit it, but when you two first got into an argument and you started screaming and cursing at him because he raised his voice, he sort of peed his pants a little bit.