The Outsiders Imagines, Preferences and One Shots

Dally Funeral Imagine

A/N: Not requested, but I'll try to get the requests up this weekend. I'm so sorry for all of you that have had to wait but PLEASE DON'T SEND ANY MORE REQUESTS!
I'm not trying to be rude, and all of you that want one will get it sooner or later, I've just been very busy later.
And warning: Made 9 people on Instagram cry.

You take a deep breathe as you walk into the funeral home. Am I going to be able to do this? You ask yourself. Just the thought of going to your boyfriends funeral makes you sick. Why did those stupid police have to kill him? All he did was rob a grocery store, that's not enough to kill him. As you look around you notice that not many people are there, the Gang, Buck, Tim Shepard, and a few other random Greasers that you don't recognize. Without stoping to talk to any of them you go in and go up to your (ex) boyfriend's casket. "Dally," You whisper, even though you know he can't answer you. But you can practically hear him saying your name, the same way he always does. It brings tears to your eyes, but you blink them away quickly. Being with Dally for so long, you know to be tough in these types of situations. Dally wouldn't want you to cry over him, anyways. He always thought you were too good for him. He was in love with you, and had even proposed to you. Your wedding would have been a month from now, and it hurts more than anything to know that you'll never be a Winston. You remember the day you met, you were sitting with some friends at a drive in when he came up to you. You saw him sneak in, and sit next to you without saying anything. "Hi," You say when the movie's over. "I'm Y/N. What's your name?" You ask, but know the answer already. Everyone knows the infamous Dallas Winston. "Y/N... That's a beautiful name," He says, causing you to blush. "I'm Dallas, but call me Dally," He says, putting a cigarette in his mouth. "So, Y/N... You wanna go out sometime? I'd like to get to know you," He says. You nod and write down your number for him. Somehow you knew that something was different there. That he wasn't using you for sex like those other girls. Somehow you just knew that Dally really liked you, that he truly did want to get to know you. And he did. And ever since then, every kiss shared, every smile, every hug, every single "I love you" meant everything. You reach your hand into the casket, and squeeze his hand. It's cold and he looks pale, like he's sleeping and sick... But he's not sleeping. He's dead and never going to wake up. You take your hand out of his and give him one last look before going off. "Goodbye, baby. I'll miss you. I love you," You whisper. You can almost hear him whisper back in that same cute/cocky voice, with his adorable New York accent, "Yeah? Well, I love you too."

A/N again: Hope you all liked it and I'm sorry it was so sad. Let me know what you though, though? :)