the archetypes [80s-90s imagines] DISCONTINUED

lucky ones

Sodapop Curtis

for: beanscobain

rating: vanilla smut

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     99% of drunken nights are spent in repent, regret. Both the same meaning with slightly different communications. Just as stated, there is that 1% that doesn't regret last nights happenings.

     "Movies, guys. Drive in, anything." y/n retorted to the guys who sat for minutes, maybe hours trying to figure out what to do. Her exasperation grew bigger. All this time she suggested going film watching, but no attention nor interest was shown to her suggestion until they grew tired of what they could possibly think of.

     "Alright, lets go." The gang stood up. Walking to the movies they all messed around, laughing smiling, but the important thing was the stares both y/n and Sodapop gave each other. Known each other for quite a while now and the love they had for each other was vast.

Sadly they didn't dare to present that.

     To them their feelings weren't there. y/n was heartbroken when he started dating Sandy a while ago.

     For weeks her body felt numb and her mind was out of touch. 'How foolish?' She asked herself seeing the smiles on both of their faces. He was in a state of bliss... and she was in despondence.

     Leaning against a tree under the shade with Ponyboy; she expressed her emotions. No names were given as she feared he would tell all of the gang.

     "Alright, how's this; I can be the night light. The days light. Stop the world for a second to caress your satin smooth flesh."

     Turning to look at him she nodded. "Damn Pony, you got that from what I said?" He stared at her pursing his lips making her laugh. "I'm a genius, obviously."

     Till this day she has the letter he wrote. Keeping it with her at all times. It's even engraved to her mind; every time she sees Soda- the words repeat in her mind as if it was a song.

     "Get the tickets." Dally told both the mentally secret lovers. He knew what he was doing by sending them together.

     All along the whole group has been trying to push them into saying what they really felt. Though the two were blinded by their fear; everyone around them was well aware of their emotions.

     How could they not? Day and night the two spent their time together.  Laughing, smiling, staring at each other and everything only two wanted lovers would do.

If Sylvia Plath was alive, her gruesome poetry and writings would turn soft and convivial.

     Their love was strong. How could it not? They've know each other for an eternity. Their souls were connected, their smiles sang love songs when looking at each other, their careful touches were delicate rose petals falling slowly. The playful things they told each other were small signs of affection and attraction.