The Outsiders: Preferences and Imagines

💗Love Notes💗

Darry

Darry's tools were his lifeblood, the reason for his existence as far as he was concerned. If anyone touched those tools they'd be dead. That's exactly why his tool belt was you favorite hiding spot for notes; you knew he'd always look there.

You had to walk past the Curtis house every morning to work and would occasionally duck into the trunk of the pickup, stuffing a carefully written letter into his leather work bag. Tucking it safely away, you'd patted the bag and would continue down with a bounce to your feet.

Darry finds the note as he's unpacking at the work site, a half-smile immediately appearing on his lips. He opens the letter to find your feelings spilling off the page. With furrowed brows he carefully inhales each of your words, his chest swelling with warmth. A call from the boss to get started has him tucking the note in his shirt pocket to read again later.

Dally

Sleeping over was always fun with Dally. Not only were you able to release some frustration, but wearing his shirts after left his scent on your skin for a few hours. Waking early the next morning you took a moment to scribble a little note before you left for work. You sealed it with a lipstick kiss and quietly went on your way.

Dally wakes to the door closing, sitting up slightly to search for your absence. Still tired he shifts his weight, turning over to his other side and lays back down. A hand swoops up to your side of the pillow and paper crinkles in his fingers. Curious, Dally brings the sheet to his face, unfolding it with delicate precision. There in sloppy red ink reads, "Love you, good lookin'." Dally gives an involuntary chuckled, turning the note in his hands to see your lip stick stain. He brings his own lips to your print, sets it on the nightstand beside him, and falls into dreams of you.

Johnny

Your journal never left your side in fear an idea would strike you and you'd be stranded without a surface to scribble on. Every thought, troubling or exhilarating, filled its pages. Especially your feelings for Johnny. The gang had no idea of your feelings for him and it was your mission to keep it that way.

Sitting among the benches out front of the diner, your heart leaps as Johnny wonders up to sit with you. Closing your journal, you happily greet him as you offer to order something. Not one to deny food he accepts your offer for share an order of fries. Nervous, yet excited, you shoot up from your seat. Unfortunately for you, you're so thrilled to see Johnny that you don't notice your journal slip from the crook of your elbow.

The notebook drops, opening as it lands. Johnny's gaze follows its motions, unintentionally reading the page that lays visible before him. His heart quickens, a blush forming on his neck as he reads your feelings for him. Every detail of your love for his greased back hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, and how the little scare on his cheeks somehow made him even more handsome. He sees you returning, scurrying to close the journal again before you reach the table. He's jittery, suddenly sweating, as you take a seat. Handing you the closed notebook, to which you have a mini freak out, he stands fidgeting frantically as he profusely apologizes for having to leave so suddenly and thanking you for the food. He grabs a hot fry and stumbles backwards awkwardly. When he finally turns he's well aware of the warm blush on his skin and the wide smile on his face.

Ponyboy

Ponyboy's at your elbow asking your opinion on the most recent reading as you pack up your backpack, clumsily stuffing papers half-hazardly in the mess of your binder. In a rush to get to your next class across campus you're a little shorter than intended with him. Apologizing for your abruptness, you hastily exit the classroom.

Unphased, a flicker of paper catches Ponyboy's eye. It flutters to the floor, face down. He bends to pick it up, flipping it over to see your smooth cursive handwriting and doodles. A blush immediately reddens his ears, eyes scanning the sheet feverishly as he recognizes his name. There circled in hearts is "Ponyboy". He glances up quickly to see if anyone else had seen the note and hurriedly stuffs it into his pocket. When he's finally home he takes out the paper to review every inch of his name in your handwriting, adoring the little swoops of the 'y's. He keeps the note to his chest as he falls asleep with excited chills.

Soda

Drag racing was a shared passion between you and Soda, something that he absolutely loved about you. He adored the way you could holler louder than any girl there as the thrill of the race seemed to pour out of you. Afterwards he'd always take you out for a soda and a night drive to calm down after the wired race.

Windows down, the two of you passionately review the most recent race, arguing who really won at the photo-finish. The wind sweeps in blowing your hair wildly. He's looking at you with such a loving gaze as he brushes a bang from your cheeks, a hand on the steering wheel and eyes glancing back and forth between you and the road. The argument calms as does your excitement, his car pulling up silently into your drive. You give him a sweet kiss goodbye, lingering on his lips dreading to pull away. You pop the car door open, but can't bring yourself to leave just yet, there are so many more conversations to have. Glancing around the car you're able to scavenge some spare paper and a pen, jotting down a quick note. His eyes are on you as you fold it, give it a small kiss, and lay it on his dashboard. With a bright smile you're out of the car and at your front door, waving goodbye.

Soda sits in your front drive, carefully picking up your note, unable to wait to read it. The paper spreads, revealing, "I will always love you, my Sodapop Curtis." You've decorated the phrase with little hearts and arrows. His grin overtakes his face, heart swelling.

Steve

Steve's giving you trouble for sitting atop the car hood of his most recent client. You stick out your tongue at him challenging him to do something about it. He's on you, making you howling with laughter as he tickles your sides. You wiggle your way out of his hands, pouncing to the floor and skipping a few feet away. He makes no move to chase you, instead throwing his rag at you. You bounce out of range, deftly moving in as you pull a note from your pocket, steal a kiss to his check, and shove the paper in his shirt pocket. Swiftly stepping out of range again you blow air kisses as a goodbye.

He's left standing with a smile tugging up to his ear. He shakes his head as he draws the letter from his uniform, curious. The envelope's decorated with tiny flowers and smells of sweet perfume. Opening it, he finds a short note, "I love you more than you love cars. And that's tough to do." His laugh echos through the garage, his feelings for you blistering. Affectionately he tucks the letter back into its envelope and slides it into his back pocket.

Two-Bit

Two-Bit sure knew how to party, finding the cheapest beer possible and lighting up the night with as many people as he could find. A big partier yourself, you always made a point to know where he would be during the weekends. You got into a strange ritual of getting together every Friday and Saturday, partying your asses off, and then trying to feebly recover the next afternoon. The two of you got so use to one another that it naturally flowed into a relationship.

The previous night proved to be one of the biggest bashes ever. It was a miracle when you woke up the next morning without a throbbing hangover, though Two-Bit was still sleeping off his damage. You smiled at his light snores and gently ruffled his skewed quaff. Doodling a quick note, you rolled it, and stuffed it in the neck of an empty beer bottle. Placing it under Two-Bit's arm you stole a peck on the cheek and was off.

The bottle hit the ground an hour later as Two-Bit adjusted his position. The twinge of the glass stirred him conscious enough to see the paper sticking from the top of the bottle. He leaned over to grab it, yanking the note out and clumsily uncurled it. The little drawing of Mickey and Minnie Mouse made him chuckle, tossing it to the adjacent table with a smile at the thought of you as he got up to shower.