─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─

“I can’t be what you need,

I am stuck in a dream.”

Synopsis…! You and Johnny are best friends. You’ve been there for each other through thick and thin. But what happens when you have an undeniable love for him, and he just doesn’t seem to notice?

a/n…! Made this based off an ask I did but couldn’t get out of my head🙏 can’t tell if I like it tho…. Also begging for literally anyone who sees this to req smth im in desperate need of writing inspo

w/c…! 1800+

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

You need to look perfect.

That’s what you tell yourself over and over, the sentence repeating like a broken record.

Buck’s hosting a party tonight. Johnny will be there; the same Johnny you’ve been trying to get the attention of for months now. And yet, each time you cast him an extra glance, make a flirty comment, dress up extra pretty, he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t even seem to look.

It breaks your heart.

Which is exactly why tonight you’re going to this party. Tonight is the night, the one where he has to notice you. You’ll march up to him, bat your eyelashes and be forward.

“Hey, Johnnycakes, wanna go out to the drive-in sometime?” You’ll state. He’ll have to say yes.

But to make that work, you’ll have to look extra pretty. Not just normal pretty, special pretty. Sure, it feels silly trying so hard for a boy, but you can’t help it. This needs to go right.

However, you currently find yourself in a bit of a dilemma.

You’ve spent probably the past two hours trying to find an outfit.

“Ugh! I have nothing to wear!” You wail, hands carding through already messy hair.

“Just wear what makes you feel confident! That’s what will really make you ‘special’ pretty!” Your friend Lindsey replies, quoting the statement you’d made earlier.

“How do you know that’ll work? What if he sees me and thinks, “wow, she’s really wearing that?” I’ll ruin my chances!”

“I can almost guarantee Johnny won’t think that. Here, let me try to find something up to your standards.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. So, you sit at your vanity, sulking as she searches your closet.

After only ten minutes she’s coming back out with an outfit draped over her arm. She shoves it into your hands, grinning as she shoves you into your bathroom, saying that “it’s perfect!’

You sigh as you close the door. Is it really perfect? You know Lindsey is very big on fashion, but can you truly trust her? The only way to find out is to try the outfit on, and when you do, you decide you’ll never doubt her again.

First you pull on the lace tank top. It’s one with spaghetti straps that hugs your body just right – but you bought it so long ago it somehow still has the tag. Then comes the blouse, pale green and gingham, with a low enough neck to show off the lace of the shirt beneath. And last, on bottom, is a white pleated skirt that reaches your mid-thigh. You’ve worn it more times than you can count, but that’s what you love about it; it’s simple but effective.

You step out of your bathroom, feeling prettier than you have in a while. Lindsey can’t help grinning, clapping her hands together as you give her a bashful smile.

“It is perfect,”

“I know, right! Never doubt me again, girlfriend!” Her voice is giddy, as are her movements, as she sits you down at your vanity.

A handful of hours later, you’re walking up to Buck’s – hair styled, makeup done, outfit flawless. Lindsey and Cherry are at your sides, for emotional support, they’d said. Despite the confidence in your step, nerves eat away at your stomach. Your thoughts are filled with nothing but the worst-case scenarios of tonight.

The moment you step foot into the house, your senses are violated by your surroundings – the smell of smoke and beer, the loud yells and even louder music, the bright lights.

But your eyes don't take long to find him.

Black hair. Tan skin. Big brown eyes. Leaning against a wall with a red solo cup in his calloused hands, a grin spread across his lips.

And a girl standing before him.

Hand touching his arm. Laughing unbearably loud at a dumb joke. Eyes full of lust.

Your heart drops. Your ears ring. Your throat grows dry.

You’re moving before your brain even registers it, feet carrying you over to where Johnny’s standing. He doesn’t notice you. Not until you’ve started speaking.

“Are you kidding me?”

He immediately turns to you, an expression of bewilderment falling upon his features.

“What?” His tone is laced with confusion. He glances over at the blonde chick, watching as she approaches her next victim like Johnny never existed.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Johnny?” You repeat, taking a step closer to him – voice heavy with emotion as you continue your rambling.

“I got dressed up. I bought new mary janes. I spent hours on my hair.”

He’s too confused to respond, his mouth stupidly hanging open. As if he has a right to be shocked.

“I did all this for you, and I don't get so much as a spared glance. Not a ‘hi’ or a wave or even a glance. Nothing.”

Your eyes are brimming with salty tears, but you hold them back. He doesn't get to see you cry. Not now.

“I tried so goddamn hard, Johnny. I always did. But you just don’t see it, do you?” This is what makes him speak up, voice poisoned with uncalled for frustration.

“What do you mean I don’t notice? Of course I do!”

“No, you don't!" You immediately retort. “Not like how you’re supposed to. You don't see me and think, ‘I wish she were mine.’ You see me and all you think is that I’m your good friend.” Your heart sits heavy in your throat, your words choked out as you hold back tears.

Johnny just stands there like an idiot, his brows creased, his expression incredulous.

“But–”

“Don’t.” You don’t want him fighting for you. It’ll only make the aching in your chest worsen. He’s too late, anyway. He’s made his intentions clear.

You turn on your heel and walk away. Never even once do you look back. He doesn’t deserve your heart, not anymore.

You shove your way through the crowd, colliding with sweaty bodies over and over until you reach the door. You’ve practically collapsed the moment you’ve left, sitting down on the curb.

Salty tears stream down your cheeks. You were never a pretty crier, not like the actresses in movies. You sob, sniffle, hiccup; ruined makeup stains your face. Shaky hands come up to swipe at the tears, though not helping much.

It’s official. Your chances with him are smothered out like the flame of a burnt out candle.

Johnny stands there, frozen. Stuck in place like an idiotic looking statue. From across the room, Dallas watches. He saw the whole thing. You strutting in, your pretty outfit, your nervous smile. The argument. The tears. He knew how you tried, it was made clear from the moment you’d started hanging around Johnny. But he boy was a goddamn idiot.

“You’ve royally fucked up, man.” Dally suddenly says.

Johnny’s head snaps over to him, his shock still written all over his face. But he doesn’t say a word.

“She really likes you. No clue why you didn’t notice. Hell, I thought about takin’ her for myself-” Those last words make his heart feel like it’s being carved straight out of his chest.

“I fuckin’ get it! Jeez, don’t gotta make me feel like a bigger asshole..” Johnny barks, the pain in his chest getting worse with every moment you’re gone.

The only reason this makes him feel so shitty isn't because he hurt his best friend, but because he’d been in your position before. Trying so goddamn desperately to get her attention – not in a normal way, in a romantic way. He wanted you to see him, but he gave up long ago. And as it turns out, that’s when you started trying.

It’s just one big fucked up mess, really.

“You should go after her.” Dally suddenly says, nudging him. “Tell her how you feel. It’s rainin’, too. You could make it like one of those stupid ass romance movies she likes.”

Johnny perks up at this, realizing he’s been standing here like a goddamn idiot for the past five minutes while you’ve probably been sobbing.

Without thinking, he starts racing to the front door praying that she’s still out there.

The rain pelts down at his skin hard. But there you are, sitting on the curb, your pretty face in your hands.

When you hear footsteps, you know it’s him. Before he speaks, before he even makes himself known. You’d always recognize him, down to the very last beat of his heart.

“I get it, Johnny. You feel bad for making me cry but you don’t like me like that. You don’t have to like me or apologize.”

You look over your shoulder at him, expecting him to be nodding, but all you see is his confused face.

“What—?! I mean- you’re.. how did you even make that conclusion?”

The two of you stare at each other. For several seconds, all you can do is stare at him.

“You never even noticed me, Johnny. You never–“

“Would you quit saying that I didn’t notice?!”

His snappy tone catches you off guard. Catches himself off guard. But nevertheless, he goes on.

“Of course I noticed! I couldn’t not notice! You looked like the goddamn sun in all those skirts and dresses, and you expect me not to notice you?!”

You stare up at him, slowly rising on shaky legs to face him fully. He noticed? Did he really notice and she just couldn’t see?

“Then why didn’t you say anything? I dropped the most obvious hints and you didn’t even reciprocate!” You allege, your own tone just as accusatory as his own.

“Because I thought you were being nice! I didn’t flirt back because I couldn’t fathom the idea of someone as angelic as you liking me!”

You’re right in front of him now. Faces close, arguing like two scared mutts. Voices raised, rain pelting your skin, mixing with the stray tears on your cheeks.

“So you just gave up? You decided I wasn’t worth fighting for and stopped trying—!”

Calloused hands grasp your cheeks as soft lips cover your own.

Your heart stops.

Your breath catches.

But you don’t pull away.

Not for a single second.

Not until you both can’t take it anymore and need to breathe. Even then, you’re hesitant, chasing his lips until the last second.

You finally look up at him, and you’re met with black lashes framing eyes as dark as the night sky. Your heart nearly stops.

“Johnny, I–” You attempt to stammer out, but he interrupts you once again.

“Don’t.” You pause. His eyes lock onto yours, hands refusing to move from your cheeks. Calloused thumbs caress your cheekbones, the touch gentle despite the storm behind his eyes.

“Please just let me call you mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Is he being serious, you ask yourself, is this really happening?

But before you can fully formulate a response in your mind, you’re nodding your head. And then he’s leaning in again. Your lips collide, the rain pelting your skin only fueling the need behind your kisses.

From the window in Buck’s living room, Dallas cheers to himself. Finally, the stupid kid has his entire world all to himself.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

𐔌 . ⋮ Miracles .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

aka: The aftermath of Lynn gaining custody of Johnny!

Synopsis…! After a hectic trial, Lynn brings Johnny home to their apartment, emotions weighing heavily down on them

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

The words of the Judge ring throughout her mind like a mantra:

“Ms. Dubois, you have been granted custody of Johnny Cade.”

The drive to their apartment is quiet, silence hanging between them like a treat over a puppy’s head. So many questions and thoughts run through Johnny’s mind, his heart beating wildly in his chest. It isn't until they arrive at the door, their bags in their hands, that it hits him – he’s free.

He’s no longer in the care of his parents, no longer forced to be in the middle of screaming matches, no longer being beaten over trivial mistakes.

Meanwhile, Lynn is sitting in terrified silence. She has zero idea how to take care of someone, even if he’s literally only two years younger than her. What if his teachers think he’s still being neglected? What if the neighbors call the cops, since she’s only eighteen?

Her thoughts run wild, coming up with every possible bad outcome of their current situation – when suddenly, a pair of arms encircle her middle.

Lynn is broken out of her haze and looks down, only to find a trembling Johnny clinging to her side.

“Thank you. For… for saving me.” He mumbles out, burying his face into her shoulder.

For a split second, she just sits there, shocked at his actions. But when his words register and she realizes what he’s saying, she wraps her arms back around him. Gentle hands cradle his head, allowing him to leave further into her body.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, Johnnycakes. You got that?” She replies, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head.

They spend the next couple moments just standing there, embracing like two siblings reunited after years of being apart – which, in their own way, they are. Once Johnny and Lynn both are ready, they pull back, before heading into the apartment.

It’s a cozy space, with a decent sized kitchen and a living room connected to it, with windows overlooking the Tulsa skyline (which is really just run down houses on one side and fancy mansions on the other). They take their time exploring, taking in the space they can now call their own, before they claim each of their respective rooms.

After that’s out of the way, they get started with making the space their own. Pictures are hung on the walls – which are mainly Lynn’s old paintings and photographs from high school – blankets and pillows placed in the living room, candles set on tables, mugs placed in cabinets.

In Lynn’s room, she hangs up all her Elvis and Frank Sinatra posters, as well as her vinyls. Her record player is set up, as well as her small bookcase, her collection of horror movie VHS tapes, her perfume and makeup organized in her old vanity.

Johnny, on the other hand, doesn't have much. All he does is put up some old superhero posters Dally and Soda gave him and set out his comic books.

It’s quite saddening for Lynn, seeing him have so little. He never got the chance to have a childhood; he was too focused on surviving. He never got to do bakesales, go on field trips, hang out with friends. In short, he had nothing until Ponyboy and Dally came along.

But now, Lynn is determined to ensure he’s treated well, that he’s given all the love that he missed out on while in the custody of his parents.

At the end of the night, they curl up on the couch, watching The Creature From The Black Lagoon, Johnny tucked into her side. She smooths her hand over his hair in a comforting gesture, content with this new life brought upon her. Despite all of the burdens and responsibilities that come with it, she’s content.

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

a/n: from now on, all my fics will be posted to my main acc, and I’ll link them on t.f.t.o.t. Community since the links never work 💔

⭑𓂃˗ˏˋ CARS AND STARS ˎˊ˗𓂃⭑

˗ˏˋ aka: when Johnny and Francis met! ˎˊ˗

─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─

Synopsis…! one night, johnny sneaks around in an attempt to meet his idol, only to make a shocking discovery

Featuring…! @eepy-weepy-silly ‘s oc, Sergei Volkov!

── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ──

The breeze is soft and the night cool, as Johnny Cade sneaks quietly into the busy stands of the local drag racing arena. Dallas and Sergei follow behind him closely, glancing around to ensure nobody is following them. Once they’re in, they take their seats in the stands, trying to get the best possible position so they can actually see. Nights like this are important to Johnny, since racing is one of his favorite past times and very rarely does he get this good of seats.

They watch as the cars pull onto the track, lining up side by side, cheers roaring throughout the hundreds of greasers in the bleachers. Johnny’s eyes light up upon seeing his favorite racer — and his idol — stepping out of his car. Frank Turner, an infamous person in the Tulsa racing community. Nobody knows what he looks like nor his identity, only that he’s better than the rest. Cocky, arrogant, smug, all things that you wouldn’t expect Johnny to admire.

And yet, he does; quite significantly, to be totally honest. He watches with a grin on his lips as Frank waves to the crowd, a ski mask covering his whole head aside from a pair of smug eyes and an even more smug grin.

Johnny spends hours watching the cars speeding around the track, the sun falling over the treeline as time passes. As anticipated, Frank wins each one by a long shot. Cheers echo throughout the stadium each time he surpasses another racer, especially from Johnny.

However, halfway through the night, Sergei and Dallas run off, finding themselves bored and unamused, leaving Johnny alone. He doesn't mind, however, being content with watching by himself. That is, until the end of the festivities When everyone is leaving, Johnny finds himself desperately wishing to meet his beloved idol. So, he comes up with the bright idea to sneak down to the dugout. He knows it’ll be easy, considering the lack of security. It’s a local thing organized by greasers, for god’s sake, of course there’s no security…

Which is why Johnny now finds himself pressed against a wall, footsteps silent as the wind as he manages to sneak his way to the dugout where the racers hangout. The first sign that things are amiss is the fact there isn’t loud chatter, just two voices having a private conversation. Where the hell are the others? Shouldn’t all of the racers be hanging around, having fun? Alas, he presses on, determined to at least speak a word to his #1 idol.

The second sign, however, should’ve most definitely turned him away: the door leading to the back is completely ajar. Faint music plays behind it, alongside those two voices he heard earlier.

Now, him not seeing the third sign is purely him being an oblivious idiot: the female voice. Johnny doesn't notice it, not until he's pushing the door open, hoping to come face-to-face with this man he’s completely idolized —

— and is met with the face of a woman.

Before him stands a girl, leaning against the hood of Frank Turner’s car, his iconic ski mask and helmet sat on top of it. Beside her is Buck Merril, a cigarette between his fingers, now wearing an expression full of anger. The girl – who for some reason looks to be his age – has pure, terrified shock on her face. Both she and Buck can’t help but ask themselves, “how the hell did he get back here?!” It doesn't take Johnny long to connect the dots, and when he does, he can't keep himself from blurting out:

“I won't tell anyone! I swear!”

The girl simply stares at him, her expression softening at his promise of secrecy. Buck, however, steps up towards him, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a scowl.

“God fuckin’ damn, Johnny- You keep this shit secret, ya hear me, boy? Nobody can know ‘bout her. Not Dally, not Sergei, not fuckass Pony – no one.” His voice is practically a growl as he says this, his tone dripping in anger and frustration. He’s rightfully angry, this chick gets him a hell of a lotta money and he’s not giving that up just because some stupid kid saw who she really is; a greaser girl trying to make ends meet for her siblings.

“I-I promise I won’t tell anyone! Not a soul will know about this!” Johnny stammers out in reply, trembling hands held up in surrender. He glances between the girl and Buck, eyes full of fear, breaths shaky and labored.

Grumbling angrily under his breath, Buck stomps away, leaving Johnny and this random girl who he’s just discovered has been his idol for the past two years. The two stare at each other, wide eyed and confused, the only sound the chirping of crickets and rustle of the breeze. That is, until the girl breaks the silence.

“You seriously won't tell anyone?” She mutters, her voice carrying a pleading tone. Johnny doesn't realize it, but not only her own life and wellbeing but others’ as well rely on her racing job. If she couldn’t do this, she’d probably end up either dead or in the fucked up foster system.

For several moments, all he does is stare, before shakily nodding to her. He can see the way she relaxes, the way her shoulders go slack and her eyes soften. It suddenly hits him that he’s standing before his idol, she’s a girl, and she's speaking to him. Hell, at this point, it doesn't matter that she’s a chick, she's a hell of a good racer and he wants her autograph.

“Can I get your autograph..?” He suddenly blurts, cheeks flushing as he begins to regret his decision. But even as she’s replying, he feels embarrassed.

“D’you want my autograph or the autograph of the character I’ve created?” She says back, her accent making her smugness all the more prominent. She can’t help smirking at him, the cockiness of Frank Turner clearly the least fake part of his (lack of) existence.

Before Johnny has the chance to mumble out a reply, she’s grabbing a napkin and marker out of her pocket. He watches as she scribbles a couple words down on it, puts the cap back on the marker, shoves it in her pocket, then turns to him. Without another word spoken, she hands the napkin to him, grinning ear to ear.

“Have a good night, Johnny.” She drawls, grinning over her shoulder as she turns to walk off, boots crunching against the gravel road, her silhouette soon disappearing into the night. Johnny watches her go, the shock of it all still coursing through his veins, before looking down and reading what she wrote on the napkin;

“Call for a good time. . . just kidding. . . sort of ;)” Scribbled beside it? Not only a phone number, but the signatures of both Frank Turner and Francis Vendelini.

That night, Johnny calls the number, and when a feminine voice with a jersey accent replies, he feels an unfamiliar flutter in his stomach – and unknowingly establishes one of the most important relationships of his life.

── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ──

a/n: reposting this here cuz the link won’t work💔

𐔌 . ⋮ GUESS .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

“Is it showing off my brand new lower back tattoo?”

Synopsis…! Lynn gets herself a new tattoo, but is scared of how the gang will react — but it’s the way Dally reacts that catches her off guard.

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

She’d meant to tell them — honest — she just forgot.

A week prior, Lynn went out and decided to treat herself, inevitably having the bright idea to get a tattoo on her lower back. She’d wanted one for years anyway, and now that she’s eighteen, she can do whatever the hell she wants.

Somehow, though, she managed to forget to tell the gang. Despite the fact they’re some of her best friends, it just didn't feel like something to speak about with them –Angela Shepard, however, is. She was the first and only person she’s told, and because she’s Angela, she loved the design.

“Oh my god, it’s so hot! I might get one too, now! We should match-!” She then blabbered on for an hour about nonsense.

For a while after she got it, she’d simply forgotten to tell them. The design was often covered by pants, anyways. One day, though, her silly little secret gets revealed in a rather odd manner…

───── ─────

It was blazing hot out, normal for a May morning in Tulsa, and Lynn decided to wear a pair of low rise jeans and a cropped tank top, paired with her leather jacket. It’s nearly 80 degrees out, she’s not going to be caught dead in anything else.

“Hey, ya’ll! She calls out, as she and Johnny enter the Curtis house, her typical grin on her face.

A mantra of “hey”s and “hello”s echo throughout the house, all voices familiar and comforting.

“Darry, is the A.C. still broke?” She asks, sitting down on the couch.

“‘Course it is, Lynn. I ain’t a plumber, I’m a roofer.” His response is what she expected, so with a small huff, she takes off her jacket, tossing it away.

Her lower back is inevitably exposed, and guess who’s the first to see the tattoo? Dallas.

He rubs a hand over his face at the sight, mumbling curses under his breath. For several seconds, he does nothing but sit there, staring. His gaze locked on her back with pupils blown wide.

He’s the only one to notice, apparently, based on the fact nobody else has said a word — because we all know they would.

But the moment she’s bending over to grab a soda off the coffee table? He’s a goner.

“Fuck, man…” He murmurs softly, glancing away and adjusting his jeans ever so subtly. His hands find her hips the moment she’s near, tugging her between his legs without a second thought.

“Doll… what the hell is this?” He asks, smoothing a hand over the tattoo, fingers tracing the ridges.

“Oh, uhm, just a tattoo?” Lynn replies, feigning nonchalance with every bone in her body.

At the sound of her words, unfortunately, everyone in the room turns to her. Steve and Two-Bit quit wrestling, Soda stops being their referee, Pony looks up from his book and Johnny tears his gaze away from looking over his shoulder.

Lynn stares at them, her expression blank, as if such a predicament is normal.

“IS THAT A TATTOO??” A shocked Pony gasps, breaking the silence that had been hanging in the air like a taught string. That makes everyone run over, their voices overlapping as they all ask frantically about the new addition to her body.

“When did you get it?”

“Did it hurt?”

“Why the hell did you want it?”

“Not gonna lie, it’s kinda hot….”

At that comment from Two-Bit, Dally stomps on his foot, the hand around Lynn’s waist tightening as the other man yelps.

The whole situation is… interesting, to say the least. She can’t help basking in the attention, showing the thing off with a wide grin.

“Yeah, it didn't hurt much. Which was kinda surprising, since the skin there’s supposed to be sensitive or somethin’. I wanna get more soon, but they’re damn expensive.”

All the while, Dally is watching from the couch, icy eyes locked onto her back.

Eventually, the commotion dies down, and Lynn takes her spot beside Dally, gaze stuck on the TV before her playing Mickey Mouse. But Dallas – of course – is still thinking of that goddamn tattoo. The way it looked on her skin, the design she’d chosen, the image of her laying on the table.

He can't quit thinking about it, and it’s driving him nuts. Why can’t his mind just let it go?

───── ─────

From that point on, whenever he gets the chance, he lets his hands brush her lower back. Lynn doesn’t notice – at least, not until Johnny points it out.

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

a/n: kinda hate this one ngl, but it’s whatever :P

guys I know it’s been a fat second since I’ve posted but I pinky swear I have something cooking 😓🙏 I have literally two days left of school on my life I’ll finish it soon 😖

thank god I got my cutie patootie 🔥🔥🔥

hii!! Can I request never let me go, by lana del rey? (Apologies cuz this is gonna be a bit long….also pls no Steve😓)

my hair is short, a mix between curly and wavy and dark brown. I have freckles and beauty marks all over, my eyes are green, im defo short and my skin is somewhat tan. My style is a good mix between “modern” grunge and “old/classic” grunge. Think band t-shirts, jeans, converse, silver jewelry, bracelets, those kinda clothes. I’m an introverted extrovert, I’m quiet unless I’m with my friends. I like my alone time but I also adore hanging out with my friends! I like getting into a little trouble (ex, nearly getting kicked out of McDonald’s) but not too much cuz I’m a coward…. I also really love reading and music :))

Anyways I LOVEEE ur writing and I’m so happy for you reaching 100 followers!!

HAHHAHA no steve is toooo real . i think you would b cute with johnny! :3

guess who’s finally writing smth today ‼️

(I’m not making any promises tho…..)

oh my goodness the sister fic is amazing PLEASE make a part 2

I haven’t started writing it but trust I already know the whole plot 😍🙏

SCHOOL IS FINALLY OVER IM FREEEEE ‼️‼️‼️

tbh I kinda rlly wanna write smth for hiccup from httyd….😓