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emilia
it’s never to late to be who you wanna be
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heheheheh i love ur writing (exlamation mark) have u done dating dallas winston headcanons??
my exlamation mark key wont work
dating dallas
i’m not gonna sit here and say dallas wouldn’t be a shit boyf sometimes bc he definitely would be!
his love language is being mean🫶 source: he told me
that being said he likes you
like really like you
so he does try his hardest to be the best boyf he can be
he says “wear wtv you want i can fight” and i stand by this!
some guy eyes you the wrong way?? on the floor.
someone makes fun of your outfit? he keys their car.
also lowkey protective.. (i’m projecting)
like it’s more possessiveness in the mindset of “i got her and she’s mine not yours” kinda but im the nicest way possible
hates fun things!
but when he gets w you he’s like “ok maybe fun isn’t so bad…”
let’s you ramble at night bc he’s just so shot
you may on his chest and talk and talk while he just falls asleep
(he likes the sound of your voice and it lulls him to sleep)
teaches you how to do all his favorite things
stealing, playing pool, playing drinking games, a lot of dumb shit
takes you on dates but only after you drop like a million hints
“my friend told me her boyfriend took her to this bar downtown…”
“…and?”
“like on a date”
he had an “OHHHHHHH” moment
when he really likes you
like a few months into dating
he lets you wear his rings🥹
but they’re too big so he gets you a chain to wear them on instead 
when you guys argue it’s the woooorst
like he will never admit he’s wrong
also he’s a little too cocky and that gets on your nerves oh lord
“i don’t like the way that girl was looking at you”
“well, i get it so🤷♂️”
you bitch slap him instantly
long story short dallas winston isn’t the best boyfriend but he tries
#dallas winston#the outsiders#dallas winston x y/n#dallas winston x reader#dallas winston imagine#the outsiders x reader#the outsiders headcanons
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EVWRYONE GO LIKE THIS NOW
200 follower event !!
with love — woah! thank you so much for 200 followers. from the bottom of my heart i love each and every one of you so much, thank you so much for supporting me and my amateur writing!! i hope you have fun with this event! kisses kisses kisses ( main pinned post here )
prompts —
back to tha basics ! — basic tumblr games (wyr, kmk, etc! )
ridin’ ! — send in a description of yourself and i’ll ship you with a character
never let me go ! — send in a description of yourself and a character and i’ll tell you what lana song would be your song in a relationship
playground ! — ask me absolutely anything! (pls be normal)
earthquakes ! — send in a (not anonymous) ask and i’ll take a little scroll through your blog and tell you my opinion on what lana album is your vibe
#em talks🎀#YAYAYAYAY#the outsiders#dallas winston#steve randle#two bit mathews#darry curtis#johnny cade#sodapop curtis#ponyboy curtis#cherry valance
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oh… belle write fluff challenge go! no but this was too good
thunder
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston loses his temper
( a/n : HIII im sorry if this wasnt ur vision but i dont think dallas is one for big apologies so i kinda focused on the arguement more than the apology hope that’s ok… also toxic dallas alert sorry if that isnt ur scene!! also not proofread but hope u cuties enjoy )
it was a late night in mid-summer, and you and dallas were on the porch on the curtis brothers house. he wanted to go out for a smoke, and dragged you along. you were wearing his leather jacket, it was a windy night and you were getting chilly. dallas had goosebumps along his arms.
“are you sure you don’t want it back, dal?” you ask him, insisting on giving him his jacket back.
“nah, sugar, don’t want ya freezin’ to death out here,” he answers, taking a drag of his cigarette as he looks out at the empty street.
“i’ll just go inside, though, so you don’t get hypothermia or something..” you insist, but he grabs your hand and stops you.
“you’re fine, baby, stay with me.” you look up at him and nod, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.
you stand outside for a little while longer. it feels so peaceful standing there with him. his hand that’s rough and dangerous from the punches it throws is enveloping yours in a sweet gentleness shown only with you. his cigarette smoke becoming a mock mist that calms you both down. his deep breathes that are only heard because of how quiet it is.
nothing could ruin this moment.
you felt it was a good time to say the three words. not like you hadn’t said them before — it’s been a year since you’ve started dating, and you’ve both adored each other from the very start. but dallas got funny when you told him what he already knew. tonight would be different, you thought.
“.. i love ya, dal,” you say softly after a few moments of quiet. it felt casual — exactly what he would have wanted. but maybe not casual enough, because there was a short silence following your words.
eventually, he speaks. “i know ya do, sugar.”
you sigh. why is it that he could never stand to say it back?
he catches your sigh. of course he knows what you’re sighing about — he knows you all too well. he chooses not to act on it, not to apologize, not to say anything. he doesn’t want to fight with you. he just takes a drag of his cigarette and plays innocent.
“it would be nice to know that you loved me too, dallas,” you eventually say.
“oh c’mon,” another drag of his cigarette. “you ain’t an idiot, you know i do.”
“do i? i can’t remember one time you’ve said ‘i love you’ to me,” you cross your arms and look up at him.
“this isn’t somethin’ to get pressed on, y/n, the boys are inside and the windows are open,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to stop talking, to pretend like you’re okay. all because he doesn’t want his friends to hear. “and i have said it, baby, you’re just forgetting or somethin’.”
“you have not, i would remember if you have,” you counter, shoving his hand off of you. “i don’t want to argue, dallas, i really don’t—“
“too damn bad, y/n, because you’re sayin’ that i don’t love you, and we both know that ain’t true,”
“then say it.”
“..what?”
“you heard me,” you say. “it has been a whole year of us dating, and you’re never ready to say that you love me,” you raise your voice to get your point across.
“christ, y/n, you’re difficult, huh?” he groans. “it ain’t a big deal, don’t go throwing a tantrum.”
“i’m difficult? dallas, i don’t know if you get how a relationship works, but at this point, you either love me, or you’re done with me. there is no middle ground after this long together.”
“you’re fuckin’ crazy, i know how a relationship works, and i ain’t done with you. don’t go stickin’ words in my mouth,” his voice is raising, too.
“if you’re not done with me, then you love me.” you say, in a desperate attempt to get him to say the three words. you almost want to beg. “it hurts, dallas, that i don’t get that reassurance, that i leave our dates with my words hanging in the air, waiting for a reply,”
he groans. “you know that i do, so what’s the fuckin’ point?”
“you’re unbelievable.”
he scoffs, his voice raising. not quite yelling, but definitely not talking. “holy fuck, you know that i love you, man, so quit bein’ such a bitch!”
the crease in your eyebrow drops as he says that. “don’t call me that,”
“c’mon, man, you’re acting like a fuckin’ lunatic trying to get me to admit somethin’ that i’ve already admitted,” he says, voice still raised. “take a deep breath, maybe get a glass of water, and come back to me once you’re normal again.”
you scoff. “because i’m expressing my feelings, suddenly i’m a lunatic? because i’m not like your old girls, and i actually strive for a healthy relationship, i’m not normal?”
“you’re freakin’ out because i didn’t say it back once, of course i think you’re going crazy.”
“i’m ‘freaking out’ because it’s been a year of ‘thank you’ and ‘i know’ whenever i tell you i love you,”
“you’re being a dumbass, y/n, you know i—“ he cuts himself off, sighing and taking a step back. “fine, man, whatever, you win. go inside and call bucks when you’ve cooled off, i’m goin’ home,”
when he walks past you, the air is thick and unwelcoming. you don’t even bother getting the last word, dreading the fact that he might turn back and lose his shit if you do. he mutters something incoherent under his breath, and walks down the creeky front porch steps, into the dead of night.
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
of course, you don’t call bucks. why would you? just so buck can tell you that dallas isn’t there, when in reality he just doesn’t want to talk to you? just so suddenly you’re bending to his will, and he’s getting his way once again? you don’t think so.
dallas does this a lot — whenver you two fight, even if it’s a small one, he needs time to cool off. sometimes it’s a couple hours, sometimes it’s a day. it’s never stretched longer, until now. it’s been three torturous days of waiting for a grand gesture, an apology, anything.
the next day at school, you’re walking through the parking lot during your lunch break, talking to cherry valance and marcia about what happened between you and dallas. they say a lot of “told you so” and “that’s dallas for you”, and you can’t say they’re wrong. they warned you about him, and his reputation for being so short-tempered and stubborn.
the sound of an engine roars behind you, and you and your friends turn your heads to see who is making the noise. it’s a 1957 red thunderbird, you recognize it as buck merrill’s.
“that must be dal’s friend, buck,” you whisper to your friends. “but why would buck be here?”
“he’s a greaser, he’s probably like, 5 grades behind and coming here begging for another shot at graduation,” randy, marcia’s boyfriend, teases. you shoot him a glare, and he shuts up.
“i’ll go see whats up,” you say softly, walking over to the now-parked car.
as you walk over and the window rolls down. it is not buck merrill, like you expected, but it’s dallas winston.
“hi,” you say softly, your walls starting to go up but hesitating, wondering if you’re even still fighting.
“hey, sweetie,” he says, not explaining what he’s doing here.
“what’re doing?” you ask him.
he shrugs. “wanted to see you, i dunno.”
“oh,” you say softly. you hoped for an apology, you hoped for flowers, you hoped for chocolate, you hoped for a hug, you hoped for—
“i shouldn’t of gotten all heated when we talked, it wasn’t cool,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “and you ain’t a bitch.”
“..thanks.” you say after a few seconds of silence. what a shit apology, you think.
he’s staring out into the parking lot instead of you. “and i’m crazy about you, man,” he looks up at you. “you gotta know that, sugar.”
“thank you,” you repeat again, unsure of what to say.
another beat of silence as he swallows in his throat, before speaking and finally looking over at you. “i love ya, doll,”
you should’ve stayed mad, you should’ve not accepted his awful apology, but you cannot hide the smile tugging at your lips. this is all you’ve asked for from him, and he finally has the courage to admit it.
“i love you too, dallas.” you say softly, leaning into the window and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “thank you,”
“you gotta stop sayin’ that, y/n,” he teases, playfully pushing you away. “go hang out with your stupid friends, man. i’ll come over tonight and hang.”
you nod, and walk away, looking back at him and seeing a small smile on his face. nothing could ruin this moment.
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my rendition…
vampire!reader, rafes girl
fairy!reader, john bs girl
mermaid!reader, jjs girl
witch!reader, popes girl
#outer banks#rafe cameron prompt#jj maybank prompt#pope heyward prompt#john b prompt#rafe cameron#jj maybank#pope heyward#john b
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oh he loves shades of cool bc lana “wrote it about him”
dallas winston listens to lana del rey but only ultraviolence (the album)
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i don’t usually like darry but…
so high school
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which you run into your high-school sweetheart, darrel curtis.
( a/n : this isn’t my best work but not every piece has to be my fave! hope u cuties enjoy nonetheless, sorry i have no idea how to write darry )
his brown eyes met yours from across the classroom for the first time since grade 12.
your heart sank. you thought darry would’ve left by now, started his career as a successful football player or something even better, but he was standing in your classroom, still in tulsa.
your entire teenage years flash before your eyes — running on the field to kiss the quarterback, playing kiss marry kill, driving to parties, meeting his family. he looked the same.
darry’s eyes widen as he sees you. he elbows ponyboy. “you did not tell me that y/n l/n was your geography teacher.” he whispers.
“you’d of freaked if i had told you, man,” ponyboy whispers back.
tonight was parent-teacher interviews. one of your best students was ponyboy curtis, little brother of your high-school sweetheart. they were greasers, and you were a soc, but that never stopped you from going over to their house everyday, back when you were bittersweet 16.
“darry curtis,” you say softly, smiling gently. “long time no see.”
he avoids your gaze, his cheeks glowing pink. “yeah, nice to see you, y/n.”
“feel free to take a seat,” you offer, and they sit in front of your desk.
you begin talking about ponyboy — his incredible grades, your insistence on him participating more, assuring darry that ponyboy has a high chance of getting into a good post-secondary school.
you look at darry again. you have to address the elephant in the room — it would be weird not to. “this is weird, isn’t it?” you ask, voice soft. “i mean, we met in this school, and now i’m teaching your younger brother.”
“yeah, i guess so,” he agrees. “i honestly thought you would’ve left this dump by now, you always talked about wanting to move to new york city or toronto or somethin’.”
“yeah, plans changed.” you shrug. “i thought you would’ve moved by now, too.”
“plans changed,” he repeats, quoting you. you smile at him.
“what have you been up to since high school?” you ask him. “still play football?”
“i roof houses.” he answers. “but yeah, sometimes i fool around with football. not as much, though.”
“you were good,” you compliment.
“thanks,” he answers. he is never this awkward, what is happening? “you still into reading and history and stuff?”
“yeah,” you answer. “i mean, ponyboy can tell you, i never shut up about it when i’m teaching. always got a new book to talk about.”
and there we go. the conversation is back to ponyboy. “oh, that’s nice. pony only talks good about you. just never pieced together that it was you.”
“yeah, well, guess you thought i would’ve been gone by now.”
“guess so,” he agrees. “glad you’re not.”
you smile at him.
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
the following weeks, you’d notice ponyboy talking to you a bit more whenever he could in class, talking to you about darry. and when you walked into the DX, sodapop asked if you were “darry’s chick,” and you had no idea how to respond.
flowers started blooming at the local park in your neighbourhood, so you decided to take a walk and pick some to decorate your classroom and decorate them for spring.
everything reminded you of him — you walked past a small punch of pink tulips. he got you tulips for your grade 11 semi-formal. he got them for a discount at the gas station, it was all he could afford. they were beautiful.
while you were walking, you spotted a gang of greasers. darry was with them, he was the tallest and stuck out like a sore thumb among the pink and yellow flowers and blossoming trees.
sodapop and ponyboy spotted you instantly, catching your eye and then telling the rest of the gang that you were here. they all excitedly started pressuring darry to go talk to you. you overheard the giggles and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.
darry walked up to you after a few moments of resistance. you looked stunning — your hair gently waving in the warm breeze, a handful of wildflowers in your grasp. and you were smiling at him!
“hi darry,” you greet. he starts walking beside you, leaving his friends behind.
“hey, y/n,” he says. his voice is deeper than it was when you knew him. “it was real nice seein’ you at ponyboy’s parent-teacher thing.”
you agree, and then he speaks again. “i just, uh, wanted to talk to you about something.”
“what about?” you ask with a tilt of your head.
“okay, so i know we dated back in high school and stuff,” he starts. “it was real fun. we had some good times.”
“yeah, we did.” you agree.
“do you want to try again?” he asks you. his muscular body and his intimidating looks would be nothing if you heard how he was speaking now. it felt wholesome, shy, like how he asked you out in high school.
you take a second to think. you remember how you felt when he took another girl to prom 3 weeks after you broke up, you remember how that hurt you and how you wanted to kill him. but you remember watching shows with him on saturday nights, you remember kissing in the backseat, you remember his mom, mrs. curtis, kissing you on the cheek the first time you met her. you remember cheering when he got a touchdown, you remember him kissing tears off your face when he got hurt in a rumble. you remember the good and the bad. and when you look back up at him, you feel so high school.
“yeah,” you say softly. “i would love that, darry.”
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i raise you…
seaturtle!reader
always in the ocean, seashell jewelry, sun tats, sand in all her clothes, surfer girlTM, get free by lana del rey, insane breath control, go with the flow type, cotton candy ice cream, bikini box next to her door, sea salt hair, helping animals cross the road, cutting up mangoes, smelling like coconut
#outer banks#jj maybank prompt#john b prompt#rafe cameron prompt#pope heyward prompt#jj maybank#rafe cameron
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normalize the greaser being completely batshit insane because we all know they are
#dally would hug me🥺🥺#no he would push you in the mud bc he thinks it’s funny#they are literally just teenage boys#em talks🎀#the outsiders#dallas winston#ponyboy curtis#sodapop curtis#johnny cade x reader
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jj is definitely the type of boyfriend to let you wear wtv you want bc he “can fight”
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this is so cute what (if dal really wrote it every other word with he misspelled❤️)
daylight
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston writes you a love letter
( a/n : this is a bit out of character because he probably can’t spell but whateva! )
y/n,
i ain’t good with words. i wanna start this letter by saying that so you don’t think i’m fucking stupid. i just ain’t as poetic as you or ponyboy.
anyway i’ve been lying in my room at buck’s for an hour now and i can’t get you out of my mind. i was drunk out of my mind last night and i don’t remember anything that happened but i do remember your fucking face. the face that annoys me to no end, with your lips and jaw, and your eyes, man. your fucking eyes.
i watched you from across the room the entire night. all i remember is seeing you, singing along to the music and dancing with buck. he said that i punched him in the face for touching you but i don’t remember nothing about that.
i’m not a nice guy, y/n. i’m not a nice guy and i’m not gonna treat you right and i’ll probably make you cry more times than you have in your entire life. but i like you. i think that’s something because i haven’t liked anyone for real, except my boys. truth is, i hated sylvia and i ain’t mad that she two-timed me. i hated that red-head girl because she thought she was better than me, and i don’t know anyone that i’ve ever fucked.
i’m gonna be at the dingo at 4 tomorrow. and i know it ain’t your scene but i promise to pay for your milkshake if you come. i promise there’ll be no funny business, just me and you.
dallas w
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I love john bs taste in clothing. who's father is this
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I love the new-ish theme ♡
thank you so much!! xx
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reminder abt this! ^
just a reminder to any 18+ blogs following me, i am a minor! i know some people following me have been mdni blogs so just a reminder: )
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I LIVE LAUGH LOVE LUST FOR LIFE IM ACC GOING FERAL RN
YOU ARR THE BEST OMGMGMGM
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