Steve And Two-bit Trying To Pick Up Someone Would Be So Funny(This Somehow Turned Into Headcannons Oops)Requested(?)

Steve and Two-bit trying to pick up someone would be so funny (This somehow turned into headcannons oops) Requested(?)

Let me set the scene:

Two-bit and Steve are at the drive-in or whatever, drunk outta their minds with a beer or two in hand, and they decide to try and pick up a few women for the night

We all know Two-bit would be cracking the most foul jokes known to man

Remember the scene in the movie where he flips up that one girl's skirt? Yeah, he'd do that

If he was actually trying and not being a jerk, he'd try to make you laugh with his weird, scatterbrained humor, or offer to get you a Coke or something

If he succeeded in making you fall for him, we all know he'd be bragging about it to the gang

"Last night, I scored this real pretty person at the drive-in. They're totally in love with me now - even gave me their number"

He'd totally steal things for you

Maybe even admit he stole them

Steve on the other hand would probably try and impress you with the way he can work on cars or something

He'd probably yap to you, really

Probably would still crack some jokes, not as foul as Two-Bit's, though

He'd definitely brag about it too - mostly to Soda

"Hey Soda, I picked up this person last night - I'm plannin' on taking them out on a date this weekend"

Steve would try his best to make a good impression on the first date too

He'd want to definitely make sure Soda liked you if you actually started officially dating

Might take you out to the Dingo or something

It is 1:43 AM rn I should sleep, but nah Looking at imagines and fanfics are too fun

Busted lips and stolen kisses

Summary: After the rumble, Soda finds himself being taken care of.

Contains: Fluff, Sodapop x reader, no use of Y/n, Reader has no specified gender, Reader sitting on his lap (sfw)

Warnings: Injuries/mention of injuries (not very descriptive), Soda calls Reader baby

Prompts: 17. Holding the other’s chin up, 20. bandaging/stitching up an injury (Technically), 35. Kissing their bruises and scars

A/n: Prompts taken from Here

You were perched on Soda’s lap, wiping his bloodied lip with a damp rag. After the rumble, everyone was sporting some kind of injury whether it be bruises, cuts, busted knuckles, or broken bones.

You had taken it upon yourself to take care of Soda, despite him only having minor wounds; a busted, swollen lip and a bruise on his cheek that was slowly starting to turn a deep purple. You had one hand holding his chin to make him look up at you so you could properly take care of his wounds. Sodapop was looking up at you like a sweet little puppy; his eyes full of love and admiration for your dedication to patching him up.

You tried to be as gentle as you could, but he sometimes still winced at the feeling of the damp rag on his swollen, cut lip. He had his arms around you, hands resting on your lower back as if to hold you steady while you sat there on his lap.

Soda finally broke the silence with a soft statement, “You didn’t have to help me, you know, baby. I can take care of myself just fine. . .”

You didn’t pay his protest any mind and just shushed him, saying something the equivalent to “I wanted to do this for you”, and simply kept doing your job.

Once you had finally finished, you got up from his lap - to Soda’s dismay - to bring him an icepack for his poor swollen and purplish cheek. You pressed the icepack to his discolored and bruised cheek and stole a light, chaste kiss from his swollen, tender lips. He swiftly pulled you back down onto his lap, wanting to keep you there, snaking his arms around your waist once more to secure you there, his hands resting on your lower back.

“Thank you, baby.” Soda murmured, caressing your back lovingly.

It was safe to say he didn’t want to let go of you for the rest of the night.

Two-Bit x reader headcannons!!

Summary: Headcannons of Two-Bit and Reader dating, how you first met, blablabla

Requested? nope

He tried to hit on you at the drive-in when he was drunk

Didn't go too well because he was drunk asf and was making the most foul jokes known to man

he tried to make you laugh, also offered to buy you something there (popcorn or a coke)

He did manage to get your number though

After that, he was bragging and yapping about you to the gang

"They're so pretty" "You've said this multiple times, Two-Bit, we get it" "Shut up and let me talk about them"

Might even like you just as much as he does Mickey Mouse

When you two actually started going out, he introduced you to the gang finally

"So this is the person you've yapped about non-stop for the past month"

The gang can tell you make him happy, so they're cool with it

After a while, he introduced you to his mom and his sister

He wanted to make sure his family approved of you

You can't deny that he bought you something Mickey or Minnie Mouse related

He'll take you out on dates whenever he can

He'll also convince you to watch Mickey Mouse with him as a date

Safe to say this man loves you very much

Make 'em Pay

Summary: Dally and Reader get into an argument and Reader leaves so he can calm down, but this action has consequences.

Contains: Dallas x Reader, no use of y/n, reader’s gender is unspecified, Tim Shepard and his gang mentioned

Warnings: Mentions of arguing, mentions of violence, Dally may be a bit out of character, Dally calls the reader ‘mine’ once

Prompts: N/A

A/N: This is kinda cringey, mb

You and Dally had gotten into some insignificant argument over something dumb. It got heated quite quickly. You had left to give Dallas time to cool off.

A bit of time had passed, a good hour or two, and you decided that it was alright to go back. You were walking down on the sidewalk, minding your own business and whatever, when you heard the familiar rumble of a car. It stopped nearby behind you and you heard car doors slamming shut. Before you knew it, you were grabbed by some Socs and they had quickly shoved you down to the ground. They had got on top of you and punched you a few times, pulling out a blade and bringing it dangerously close to your face. They all looked similar - all Socs look rather cut from the same cloth than not - with their slicked back hair, smell of English Leather shaving lotion, and tacky, fancy clothes. They’d hit you a few more times real hard and you were out cold.

When you came to, you were laying there on the sidewalk, and you felt a sharp pain thrumming throughout your whole body when you moved. You carefully got up after a minute of just sitting there and processing all the pain in your body.

You stumbled through the streets. Nobody really batted an eye at your state. When you had finally reached Buck Merril’s place, you opened the door, walking through the bar and up the stairs into Dally’s room. When you had hobbled in with forming bruises and a bloodied lip, Dally looked over at you. His eyes kind of widened and he stood from where he was on the bed, muttering a curse or two.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked incredulously, sitting you down and rummaging around for something to clean you up with - something like that. You told him what happened from when you were walking back here and heard what you assumed to be a Mustang behind you to when you limped back here. Dally made a noise mixed between a scoff and a groan - both out of frustration. He left the room and presumably went down to the bar. When he came back, he tossed you an icepack for the bruises, then set down a med kit with disinfectant and some Band-Aids and stuff, along with a clean-looking rag. Well, you hoped it was clean, at least; you weren’t sure that all of the stuff at Buck’s was actually clean. He wet the rag with a bit of water and took your face in his hand, wiping your lip with it and cleaning up the cuts there on your face. That was about all he did to help you, though - he didn’t care much about other people. He was hardened beyond feeling and care. But you could tell he was a bit pissed off by the mean look in his eyes. He didn’t seem too pleased that you’d been jumped.

Dally was grumbling about something, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying other than stuff like, “Gonna find who did this” and “They’ll regret it”, but he sat down next to you on the bed and slung an arm ‘round your shoulder. He let out a light scoff and held you a bit closer. He asked you what the Socs looked like and you did your best to describe them to him, but that was about it. He would damned well make sure that they’d pay for jumping you; someone who the whole town knew was under his protection.

Before you knew it, you were dead asleep. Dally had left to “make a call” or something, and you kind of just crashed out on his bed. Hours passed by like a breeze. Sometimes you drifted in and out of consciousness and you’d hear somewhat familiar voices like Dally’s and Tim Shepard’s and some of his outfit nearby but couldn’t articulate what they were saying, then just fell back asleep.

The next time you came to, there was Tim Shepard and his outfit sitting around nearby, probably some of them downstairs at the bar, too. Music was still playing on the radio - Hank Williams - and there was some commotion down stairs other than the bits of conversation in the room. When your eyes landed on Dally, he was a bit busted up and his knuckles were bloody. You came to realize that the Shepard’s gang was all roughed up, too. Dally had this wild, reckless grin on his face, same with some of the others. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, which garnered Dally’s focus and attention.

“Hey.” He greeted, his eyes trained on you. You mumbled out some form of an inquiry on what happened to them.

“Jumped a few Socs with the Shepard gang, no big deal.” He answered while he was taking care of his battered knuckles. So he’d organized a fight on my behalf with the Shepards, you thought.

Some of Tim Shepard’s buddies gave little snickers and chuckles at the memory of presumably beating the group of Socs real good, but they eventually left to go downstairs to the bar with the rest of their pals, leaving you and Dally alone. You mumbled out some sort of thanks to him as you watched him patch up the cuts on his knuckles and the other minor cuts and scrapes. A few minutes later, he padded over and climbed into the bed next to you, lazily draping his arm over you. He was mumbling something but you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“That’s what they get for messin’ with what’s mine. Should’ve known better..” He scoffed.

@lizzy019 This has been sitting for a while cuz I wasn't sure if I should post it lmao

The way I crave to be praised for my work is wild Like, please, praise my works and tell me you're enjoying them I need to know I actually make people happy