#Dally being a year younger than that

[iamumbra195]

Yeah, those are all some really good points and painfully accurate. I feel Soda's role in this dynamic would be different depending on whether you make Soda closer to Pony or Darry in age. Like is he two years younger than Pony and four older than Darry or is he just the same as canon?

If he's closer to Darry in age, I imagine the two of them would have a lot of issues following their parents' death, especially if he drops out of school. Darry would be embarrassed about it every time someone mentioned it and he would probably start to pull away from Soda because he was ashamed of being related to someone who dropped out when everyone around him seemed to have perfect families. Soda would still try to be there for him but all it only ends up making Darry pull away even more.

Touching on the football thing, I think Pony would try his best to get Darry the things that he needed for football because it was a way for Darry to go to college with a full-ride scholarship. But they're tight on money so some stuff might be bought second-hand and Darry hates that because it reminded him and his friends that he was still a greaser, that he wasn't like them. That he would never be because he was an orphan and wasn't rich and no amount of perfect grades or winning plays that he made would change that.

If Soda was closer to Ponyboy's age, I think Darry would feel even more isolated so he would cling to the friendship he has with his Soc friends while also constantly burning the bridges with his brothers and the rest of the gang. Because no matter what, he never fits in right. He's not like his friends. He's not like his family.

He's an outsider.

Has anyone done a Curtis brothers role reversal where Ponboy is the eldest and Darry is the youngest? Because I think that would be such an interesting dynamic to explore.

How differently does Ponyboy deal with the stress of being responsible for his siblings following their parent's death? What would his relationship with Soda and Darry look like?

How would a Darry who wasn't burdened with the responsibility of caring for his siblings react to the loss of his parents? What sort of friends would he surround himself with? What relationship would he have with Pony and Soda?

I feel like this has a lot of potential, especially if you play into the fact that Darry had Soc friends when he was in high school so it's highly likely he would also have those friends in this AU. If he and Pony argue like they do in canon, would Darry start to pull away from his brothers and the gang, to act more like Soc? What sort of issues would that cause within the gang?

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the mortal emmrich argument scene (all routes)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the mortal romance path scene how I think an argument reconcilation scene could've went emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

Emmrich Volkarin - Dissecting the Mortal Argument Scene

welcome back dearies

lets not dally with this one and get right into it -

starting strong with emmrich reviewing his will and testament/s -

important, but not yet, so do go on -

the emphasis on will tells us alot. coming from a storyboarding background, its easy to see why the emphasis was put on will. emmrich chose mortality, and will thereofre face death head on, as will rook. but due to rook being younger than emmrich (in any capacity), emmrich states that rook will outlive him. now he hasn't said it yet, but his fear is about to rear its head. keep in mind throughout all of this that this man is scared of how much he adores you.

but in the same sentence, we've got, "You've... grown to mean much to me..." - head over heels in love, rip my heart out and serve it to you in a platter, my heart, body and soul is yours type o' love.

I just wanna shake him, oh i just wanna shake him like a bag of treats, but very aggressively. he is so obviously LYING, rook makes a comment earlier in the game about how he is a SHIT LIAR. it sounds the exact same. BUT, and I say but with a hint of 'ah -ha!', lets read between the lines -

I care for you Rook! Deeply. - man has never been down as bad as he is - emmrich has never felt love like this. But there are such years between us - shut up rn I shouldn't heap you with that burden - HERE. he knows that Rook loves him, he can feel it. I imagine between quests they hold eachother's hand as the read books together on the balcony. as they make tea. as emmrich shows rook his mothers recipes. emmrich knows rook loves him, he just doesn't realize can nor accept how much rook loves him.

bonus, BURDEN ME, Im begging you, to BURDEN ME.

DIVERGENCE

god it hurt to replay this scene 3 times

Path 1 - Please don't worry, Emmrich.

he also broke my heart by worrying because i too, love him

fuck this line. i love you but look, I get where emmrich is coming from, but no. no no no, no no. whats fair would the world to be ending and being able to spend every waking moment in eachothers arms, to spend the final moments of 'what if' craddling your insecurities and nurturing love. instead we at the end of the world, arguing, because both rook and emmrich are fucking terrified to lose eachother. something about 'being fair' to someone by 'leaving' them irks meeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

solid and appropriate response

moving on because i have nothing nice to say

get his ass

emmrich is shockingly, overthinking the concept of death. ya know, that thing that cant be soothed or mulled over, pierces his heart and shakes his core? that, thing. yes shockingly, overthinking it. i get both perspectives here. Rook just wants to be taken serously and not for their age gap to come between the love they have finally found. emmrich so scared out of his mind he's trying to avoid it entirely. if you want a really gutteral playthrough before point of no return, pick this. I did, on my blind playthrough, it was a mistake, i cried alot.

unfortunately, very valid on both statement, but also true on both statements. Emmrich is both worried about Rook and insecure about dying. because either way, he loses rook, he loses his time with her. in this line of dialogue, emmrich is vry concerned with burdening rook with his death and the grief that will follow. Rook essentially tries to calm him in the worst way possible and it escalates. im not a fan of this dialogue path at all as the "at your age" comment is so out of pocket.

Path 2 - I mean something to you!

if you were to of told me that the purple rook option is the 'nicest' in these scenarios, I would...not believe you at all. It's still painful, but it's not an 'argument?'

strong start ngl

mans immediately defensive, but his tone of voice isn't raised like in the other scenarios. its more poised with care through it, more 'ugh, yes, i care about you, but this is about death'

in this dialogue path rook attemps to 'waylay' emmrich, aka, distract him and change the subject to something nicer, more comforting. though unfortnately, for people with crippling anxiety, nothing calms the mind when its in black and white mode.

eh, not what I would've gone with saying rook but ya know. eve before a battle, tensions high. still not great

emmrich wants to discuss being a burden to rook and rook is just not having it, im kinda into it.

again rook is trying to waylay emmrich into realising that he is overthinking things. however, to emmrich, this is real, rook may as well be dying in his arms rn. thats how real his fears are. we think back to emmrich being a child and losing his parents in a collapsed building accident. its likely he was there, and survived.

hence why it is so very important that we remember that his romance confirmation is the question, what would my parents want for me? and the answer is HAPPY WITH SOMEONE WHO CARES ABOUT YOU.

he is so terrfieid of death, and you and I both know, that when you have such a fear, it is amplified by 14747% when it is someone you truly care for. let alone the type of connection these soulmates have.

emmrich desperately pleading to talk about being a burden to rook, and rook is still just going, 'no', youre my burden now.

wee woo, a winner in my books because rook is not insulting his very existence or dismissing emmrich.

rook knows that emmrich is scared and would rather talk to him about being SCARED, instead of him being a burden because she fucking loves him and would never leave him.

rook is just as scared as emmrich but in this path, is trying to level with him. this is probably the one path where it concludes and I dont have a clear answer on who said the worst shit. i dont think any of them did, it was just riddled with concern, and a lack of communication.

Path 3 - Love scares you.

Rook pointing out the obvious. blunt and to the point. I do love that Rook is able to identify this straight away

Emmrich, taken aback by the comment by Rook, because it's the truth. he is scared because he loves rook. both by actually loving her and by how much he loves her.

"I can't... at my age" Is what this line is meant to be.

But once again, and we have discovered in previous posts, Emmrich has never considered himself 'worthy' of this type of love. And now that he has the love he has craved for decades, he considers himself too old. most likely due to his belief ssystem morphing over time to, "if it hasnt happened by now, it never will" probably in his 30's. Thats almost 20 years of doubt. We know Emmrich has been in relationships and involved with others since then, but nothing that even comes close to what Rook and Emmrich have. Keep in mind as well that Emmrich hasn't formed a connection with anyone in several years and has solely focused on work (i.e., lichdom) because what else do you do when you have given up?

straight to the point again

reiterating that this is a hard topic for him - kindness in this situation would desecalate emmrich and calm his mind, but unfortunately the end of the world takes no prisoners

man is terrified of love and the grief and vulnerability that embodies it

ouch

ouch

Rook's defensiveness and frustration reaches an all time high. rook wants the love of her life to tell her that he loves her, and emmrich doesn't want to burden his love with the grief that will embody her for the rest of her days. rook walks away feeling defeated, with a hole in her heart. emmrich is left with his overthinking thoughts, and most likely spirals.

Conclusion

In their facial expressions, and I have slowed them down to each frame per second whilst analysing, and both Emmrich and Rook share the same process of emotions after Rook's final statement.

Both Emmrich and Rook start out with a cross look on their face, eyebros tilted, eyes squinted, portraying anger, which is covering defensiveness, which is a defense mechanism for being vulnerable. After Rook says their final statement, this line is what 'pulls them out' of their defensive trances, but its too late, the damage has been done. Their facial expressions switch to a more, 'oh, oh that was just said', it turns to regret. the over arching theme of the game. they regret what they said, and their pride wont let them budge rn. the argument scene is important to the romance considering what happens next in the game.

"We'll talk when we get home, Emmrich. I promise." (the reconciliation line before fighting ghil)

hit me like a frieght train that did when i found out we were in the fade for weeks. emmrich, canonically, cries alone and has cold sweats at night when he is upset. do with that information what you will. it definitely happened when rook was gone. Hence why it takes Rook dissapearing in the fade for several weeks for their walls to collapse completely.

god fight, stuck in the fade, emmrich meticulously searching for rook, crafting the fake dagger, pulling them out.

At the end of the scene, Emmrich looks frustrated and devastated. the type of facial expression where it is clear he wish that conversation had gone differently.

Emmrich has low self-esteem, there is no simpler way to put it. This is apparent in the way he holds himself, in his mannerisms, and the way he reacts to rook expressing romantic interest in him. As two examples, consider the date with Emmrich, "apart from the compliment of your interest?", and in two flirt dialogue lines, he responds stating that he is surprised rook has shown interest in him. he wants this love SO BADLY, but he is so scared especially with how much death is around them. but emmrich is braver than he believes. it just takes, almost losing rook for him to embrace it.

phew, what a rollercoaster. ill have the mortal romance scene break down for you in coming days ♥

[thewulf]

Don't Cry || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - In that, you mentioned Dally and Two-Bit walking the reader home and I had a request idea I wanted to send you. Could you write a Dallas Winston x reader where reader is a little younger than him but he’s really protective of her??... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh these Outsiders requests are so much fun! I'm writing them so quick. Fresh inspo is so much fun. Thank you for the request and hope you enjoy! @fluentmoviequoter

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: knifes, knife cutting, blood, crying, yelling

You’d known Dallas Winston for a long time. Not your whole life but it felt like it. He was always a constant in your life. Your relationship was always a weird one with the Winston boy. You could joke all day long in the confines of the house but as soon as you left it he wanted nothing to do with you. Like he was embarrassed of you. Little did you know he was just trying to keep your squeaky-clean reputation intact. For you might’ve hung, lived with and been around greaser’s but you weren’t one really. You were a greaser by association. Dally always said you were far too kind, too pure for this lifestyle so he tried his hardest to keep you as far away as he could.

It wasn’t easy when you gave him those pleading looks outside the Curtis residence to just acknowledge your presence. He tried his best not to cave. Not even when all he wanted to do was laugh about something stupid Ponyboy or Sodapop did. But you couldn’t be seen with him out and about so casually. Then the Soc’s would start to target you. He didn’t know what he was quite capable of at the thought of somebody hurting you. As he got to know you and the Curtis after moving to Tulsa he swore he’d protect you day and night. He wouldn’t let a pretty little hair on your pretty little head get touched.

He'd decided early on when he met you, he was ten and you were eight, that he was going to get you tough. He was going to be hard on you, not too hard though. If you were going to grow up a greaser then you needed to know how to defend yourself. He spent the next eight years teaching you, training you, protecting you. He didn’t realize when it happened but slowly he stopped looking at you like a younger sister. Those protective feelings went far deeper than familial love. No, he actually loved you. He’d fallen in love with the one person he really shouldn’t have fallen for. Darry would skin him alive if he knew. Soda would beat him into oblivion. Pony would tell him how disappointed he was in some sort of poetic way that went over his head. He knew he just had to keep these growing feelings quiet. For your sake. You didn’t need to deal with him or his endless amounts of baggage. Even if he could see how attached you had grown to him too.

To say your relationship had grown confusing and chaotic over the years had been an understatement. Even Darry had picked up on some of the awkward tension that seemed to pop up out of nowhere when the two of you were left alone. Soda caught onto the longing gazes Dally would throw your way. He even caught you a few times doing the same to him. Pony wasn’t blind either. He was your very best friend and confidant. Whenever the conversation of Dallas Winston came up you shied away. Scared of letting something loose on accident. All the brothers knew there was something there they just didn’t know if and what would happen.

After your parents had died he’d been there for all of you but especially you. You’d taken it the hardest. Your mom was your favorite person and she just disappeared one day. You were lost and had to rely on teenage boys to guide you through it all. Your parents had nobody they could fall back on to take care of you. Thank goodness for Dally. He’d quite literally pulled you out of the depression you’d slipped into by just being there. Helping you. Asking for nothing in return. That’s when you fell in love. He’d shown you his true colors under the layers and layers to Dallas Winston. Under it all he was there for you and promised to never leave. And you knew he'd keep that promise, you just knew it.

Slowly the months ticked by and you’d gotten back to normal. Going out with friends and boys. Dallas watching you like a hawk whenever you went on dates with guys he knew were nothing compared to you. But he decided not to say a word and let you live your life. It was worth seeing the smile come back to life after seeing you so sad for too long. Seeing you happy was worth it all.

So, when Ponyboy asked you to accompany him on a Paul Newman special at the movie theatre you couldn’t refuse him. He was so excited about seeing the film you could hardly imagine saying no to him. You’d always enjoyed the movies too so it was hardly a tough sell on his part.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a Saturday. Maybe if Dally was there to accompany you. But you couldn’t admit that. If you did then everything would change. Who knows what Darry would do to Dally. How Soda would treat him. This could get weird, and you hated weird. You’d rather keep it normal even if it meant having to keep him as a friend.

“Which one did you like better?” Pony asked once the two of you had left the theatre. He placed his hands in his pockets giving you a quizzical look. The two of you waked slowly along the cracking road that needed some serious repairs. Your head spun towards the street seeing a car full of Soc’s roll up chipping at Ponyboy about something, ignoring you completely. Even though you were over a year older than him Pony stood much taller than you. He pushed you behind his back as he yelled back at the boys. You tugged at the back of his shirt letting him know it was time to go. It wasn’t smart to get chippy with five of them in the car. They outnumbered the two of you and you were rather useless in a fight.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you across the street. After a moment of walking along the residential road you answered him, “The Hustler was far better Gidget Goes to Rome. Paul Newman really is a mastermind.”

He smirked bobbing his head in agreement, “Thought you’d say that.”

You feigned offense at that statement, “Am I that predictable Ponyboy Curtis?” You raised your eyebrows as you walked along the dirt path. The theatre wasn’t far from home thankfully. Maybe just over a mile. A twenty-minute walk or so.

“No. I just know you I guess dear sister.”

You smiled at your younger brother. Even since your parents had passed you’d taken on the nurturing role for him and even Soda more recently. Darry had none of it though. You’d grown close to your two brothers since their death’s. Darry kept his distance trying to do his best to raise you instead of letting you help him. He was trying to take on the role of your father without even asking if that’s the three of you wanted. But you didn’t dare question him.

You gave his hand a soft squeeze, “That you do Ponyboy. You know me better than anybody else.” You spotted a vehicle fast approaching from behind the two of you as you went in for a hug.

Your eyes widened seeing the same Mustang before barreling towards you, “We gotta run.” You grabbed his arm and started sprinting down the road. Pony was faster, so much faster than you, so he tried to drag you along only ending up tripping you in the process. They caught up in their Mustang an instant. He stood in front of you as you scrambled to your feet.

You gulped as the five boys got out of the car walking towards you, “Get out of here.” Pony tried to sound tough, but you heard the waver in your younger brothers voice.

One of them flipped a blade open. Your eyes shot wide open as you grabbed his shirt trying to tug him away. But they were faster as one of them tugged on your arm pulling you to the ground in front of Pony. You let out a scream trying to draw the greasers attention a few houses down. Hopefully they were hanging out outside like they usually were. Drinking beers or some shit.

“Darry! Soda!” You yelled as Pony as was taken down to the ground with you. He tried to let out a few calls for help but was muffled by something being shoved in his mouth.

“Shut her up.” One of them said, Randy maybe? You’d recognized him as the one with the redhead from school.

And before you knew it that same blade was placed right to your throat, “Pretty little things got a mouth on her huh? Maybe this’ll quite you down.” The overly-cologne scented Soc smirked as he pressed the blade across your throat drawing yet another yell right from you. He cut you. He really cut you.

Before you knew it they were running away. Your brothers and friends had heard you and Ponyboy yelling and came running right to your defense. It was only a little over a minute you were down on the ground, but that minute made you tremble. You’d never been so dominated like that in your life.

You looked down shocked at everything that had just happened. You’d felt the blood trickling down your neck more so than throbbing of the slice the Soc had given to you. Darry pulled you up from the ground, so you were sitting at eye level with his crouched form. After a moment of him holding the handkerchief up to your neck he finally spoke, “They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?” His voice was low. He was pissed. You knew you were in trouble later on once everything had settled.

You shook your head afraid to look at your older brother, “No, I’m fine.” You whispered afraid of what he might say next.

Ponyboy made his way over to you, crouching down next to Darry, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t…”

You stopped him, “It’s fine Pony. I’m okay really. Just a cut.” A small smile wavered over your face trying your best to reassure him.

Darry scoffed hating how you were playing this off so casually. Like his kid sister hadn’t gotten a knife pulled on her. Like you hadn’t gotten cut by that very same knife. It was every nightmare he had coming to light right in his backyard. At least the two of you had gotten that far before being attacked.

“Hey, Y/N.” Soda spoke after running up. His face dropped seeing the blood running down your neck, “Did they pull a blade on you?” He put his hands on your shoulders so he could get a better look.

Your face flushed with embarrassment seeing all of your brothers eyes right on you. Turning away you couldn’t take Soda’s intense gaze, “Yeah.”

He pulled your head back towards him, “Hey kid, they ain’t gonna hurt you no more. Come on.” Grabbing your hand, he hoisted you to your feet with ease. Darry gave you one last quick look before he grabbed Pony by the arm. You gulped knowing Darry was going to have it in for him. You needed to talk to your older brother about being so hard on Pony. It was just an accident after all. It wasn’t your fault the Paul Newman films kept the two of you in deep conversation not seeing the Mustang until it was too late.

Dally only interrupted you and Soda once Darry had pulled Pony ahead. He needed to make sure that his favorite Curtis sibling was okay. A minor wave of panic rang through his body seeing you pushed to the ground next to Pony with those boys had their filthy Soc hands on you. Rage washed over him as he kicked the side of the fancy car when they fled away from the scene.

Dallas’s eyes scanned over you with concern only stopping when he saw the trail of blood rolling down your neck, “What the hell is that? Did they cut you?” He took a step closer, grabbing at your face with a delicate touch. Almost as if he was afraid he’d hurt you further if he grasped on too tightly.

“Jesus, Curtis. What’d I tell you about defending yourself?” He gave your cheek a soft squeeze before dropping his hand. He spotted the already bloodied Handkerchief turned rag in Soda’s hand and held out his own to ask for it from your brother.

You looked down, “It was five on two Dally. What were we supposed to do?” You asked back earnestly wondering what the hell you were actually supposed to do. Run? Pony was faster and you’d only slow him down so that wasn’t an option. You’d already tripped trying to keep up with him. Try and fight? Well, you got a blade pulled on you so that wasn’t great either.

He bit his mouth trying his best not to snap at you. His adrenaline was high, and he was scared at the thought of you actually getting hurt, “I don’t know Y/N. Fight back? You were just lying there!”

You stopped walking abruptly, brushing Soda away knowing he didn’t need to hear the conversation about to go on between you and the hot-headed man beside you, “Can you go make sure Pony’s okay?” You asked him.

Soda gave you a curious look before finally handing Dally the handkerchief, “You sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You gave him a quick push before turning back to Dally, “What is wrong with you?”

He stepped closer so your brothers couldn’t hear ahead of you, “What the hell is wrong with me? I’m just trying to keep you alive Curtis. I should be asking you the same! Why are you out walking alone with Pony this late on a Saturday anyway? You two know better. Those no good for nothing assholes only want to fight.” He grumbled before dabbing at the semi-dried blood on your chin.

You let out a huff of irritation. He was being so caring yet so damn frustrating, “What? I can’t go anywhere without a damn chaperone now? I’m confined to my brothers house? Is that how it’s going to be Dally? Pony isn’t enough now?” Your voice was snappy as you pushed and pushed and pushed him. He was already feeling on edge from the whole thing and your attitude was about to be his breaking point. There was nobody on this planet that could get under his skin like you could, nobody except for you. You’d found a way to weasel your way into his ice-cold heart and sink a burning ember into it. For Dallas Winston would do anything for you. But man, did you frustrate him to no end.

“Jesus, you know that’s not what I mean! Stop putting words into my mouth Curtis.” He put his hands up in the air in frustration, raising his voice just a tad. Darry turned back observing, making sure you were fine. He knew Dally would never hurt you. He could see the way the Winston boy looked at his younger sister. He wasn’t stupid. Dally had always been soft on you. Except he wasn’t. He pushed you harder than he pushed anyone. He wanted you to know how to defend yourself. With your hands, a knife, a pipe whatever. He was going to teach and push because he needed you alive. You were the only thing grounding him to this planet at the moment.

Your eyes narrowed on his, your voice raising as well, “Then what do you mean Dallas? Go ahead. Say exactly what you mean. I can take it.” You’d only used his full name when you felt like being patronizing.

He looked like he was contemplating everything before he turned back to you, “You need to be more careful!” He snapped. He didn’t raise a hand on you but instead yelled right at you stopping you in your tracks. Dally had never yelled at you before. Scolded sure. Disappointed yes. Angry, of course. But yelled? Never.

Your brothers must’ve seen the look in your eyes as they all stepped in. Darry pulled Dally away telling him to cool off. Soda grabbed your arm pulling you back towards the house. And Pony happily chatted away trying to take your mind off it.

“Dally’s just an asshole, you know that!” Pony’s final ditch effort to get you to smile came up miserably short.

You gave him a solemn nod, “Yeah, I know. Never to me though.” The sadness in your voice must’ve been evident because that had him quiet down the remainder of the short walk home. You brushed them all away telling them that you were ‘fine’ and going to take a nap.

They left you alone for a few hours but when you didn’t come out for dinner all three brothers grew worried. Soda knocked on your door lightly, “Hey kid. Supper’s getting cold. Darry made one of your favorites, spaghetti, and meatballs.”

It was sweet how much they cared on you when you were down, but damn was it suffocating sometimes. It was times like these when you wish you could run to your mom and ask her advice on it all. Boys were… boys and they often didn’t have a clue what ran through your head.

“I’m not hungry Soda. Maybe later, I’m working on homework.” You heard him sigh before walking away. You’d thought you would have gotten rid of them but another, much louder knock broke you away from the essay you were committed to finishing.

“Pony said you both skipped lunch to go to the movies. Come on down and get some dinner kiddo.” Darry’s much deeper voice spoke through the door. He tried twisting the knob but stopped when it wouldn’t budge. As much as he wanted to knock your door in he knew better. You weren’t like his brothers. No, you were so entirely different. He couldn’t treat you the same or you’d most likely find yourself a foster home instead.

“I had popcorn. I’m still full from that.” It wasn’t a lie. You weren’t hungry. You were uneasy and nervous. And wanted to finish the damn easy that you’d been staring at for the better part of three hours now.

“Alight kid, I’ll save you a plate.” He grumbled before beginning to walk away.

“Thanks Dar.” You hummed ignoring the lump forming at the back of your throat. You were so lucky to have your brothers who cared for you so deeply. You just wished they’d give you the space you needed.

And you thought they did before, yet another knock came to your bedroom door not thirty minutes later. With a huff you set the pencil down, “Go away Pony. I’m not in the mood.”

A laugh so distinct came from the other side of the door. That was certainly not Ponyboy, “Try again, sweetheart.” Dallas. Dallas freaking Winston. What had your brothers done?

Your palms began to sweat as your heartrate sped up rapidly, “What are you doing here?” It came out colder than you meant but Dally just found it amusing. He knew you couldn’t hurt a fly much less hurt him words. Albeit you might be the only person that could actually hurt him with words if you wanted to. Dally was soft for one person. You.

“I’m here for you.”

You sighed, “Go away. I’m not hungry. I don’t know who went and got you or called you or whatever. I’m not in the mood Dally.”

He put his head on your door knowing your mood was stemming from the argument earlier. He had snapped at you, and he felt bad. Especially after Darry of all people came knocking at his door pleading with him to come back to his place and talk to you.

His voice was low but he knew you could hear it, “You and I both know I’m not going away little Curtis. So, you can open that door and we can talk about it, or I can sit here all night waiting. Those are the options.” You heard his stubborn ass slide down the door. You knew they could most likely pick the lock or break down the door. But Darry wasn’t stupid. He knew it’d cause more harm than any good. You needed your safe space away from all the madness of being a greaser. A place you could lock yourself away from.

“Please,” Your voice cracked as fresh tears flowed down without you even noticing, “Just go away.”

You heard him click his tongue, “No can-do sweetheart. I gave you the options. Your turn to pick.” His voice was smug. Was he relishing in making you squirm? Neither was really an option. Both forced your hand. But then again this was Dallas. He got what he wanted.

You tried to turn back to your essay all you could think about was Dallas freaking Winston sitting on the opposite side of your door. You knew his stubborn ass wouldn’t leave either and that drove you nuts. You’d never be able to finish the essay or go to bed knowing he was sitting there just waiting on you.

With a heavy sigh you got up, walked towards the door, opened it without so much as a second thought and found him sitting right next to your door, “Go away.” You tried in your meanest voice, but it came out as a whisper.

He shook his head as he stood to his feet, “That’s not going to happen sweetheart.” He leaned against your doorframe pushing you back inside your room.

“Why can’t you guys just leave me alone for one night? One stupid night. That’s all I’m asking for!” You’d hardly ever raised your voice, but you were tired. Exhausted. Scared of the Soc’s that pulled a freaking knife out on you. Frightened because when you needed a helping hand all you got was a scolding voice.

“We’re worried about you is all. You got attacked. A knife pulled out on you…” He lowered his voice hoping it’d help settle down the rage he saw in your eyes. It was weird. Different. He was used to such a sweetness about you. He’d never seen you angry. Upset sure. But this was something entirely different.

Your eyes bugged, “You think I don’t know that? That maybe I just need some alone time away from all of this?” You didn’t hate being a greaser, no. That would never be the case. You loved your life with your brothers. You were just so damn tired of always being alert these days. Being a girl put you in a weird position with the greasers. The Soc’s never laid hands on you until today. It was startling. You’d always heard how dangerous the life was but today laid it out in front of you how truly dangerous it could be if you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

He put his hands up in defense, “You need to calm down, Y/N.” His eyes shifted from one of a confident gaze to one that filled with concern

You wanted to slap him across his pretty little face, “You saying that is definitely not going to calm me down!” You were beyond frustrated now. You didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted him to leave you alone.

His eyes downturned as he saw your frigid stance. You were, for the first time he had recalled in his life, angry. Like angry, angry. Like you looked like you wanted to rip his head off angry, “Hey, I’m sorry. But I need you to relax a little. Sit down for me?” You were struck by his apology. Dallas Winston saying he’s sorry? You thought you’d so sooner be struck by lightning than hear those words come out of his mouth. The rage in your body calmed at that.

With an icy glare you sat down on your bed. You weren’t sure why you were listening to him. You were angry with him. He yelled at you when you needed sympathy. He’d scared you when you were already terrified. You thought the world of him, but that world came crashing down oh so quickly. You knew of the Dally he had hidden so well from you. Pony, Soda, and Darry would tell you stories all the time of how menacing he was. How he was so fearless in the face of it all. How could you not love on the man?

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked after shutting your bedroom door behind him. He knew your brothers were listening in, but it at least gave the illusion of a private conversation. Not that it mattered. They’d get the damn conversation out of one of the two of you eventually anyway. There was no privacy with the greasers.

“I’m fine.” You snapped at him, clearly not fine.

He shook his head giving you that damn chuckle that meant he knew you were lying, “I’m going with you’re not. You wanna tell me what’s the matter?” He asked once more. Stubborn.

“I want you to go away. That’s what I want.” The word weren’t as harsh this time. More like a soft rumble.

He sighed, “Come on Curtis. It’s just me. I know you and I know you’re not okay or fine or whatever word you wanna use. You can talk to me. It’ll be okay.” He grabbed for your hand that was nervously clutching the edge of your mattress giving it a comforting squeeze when his fingers locked with yours.

You felt the words coming on before you could stop them and soon you were rambling, “I’m overwhelmed Dally! I’m scared. I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable walking down the damned street anymore! And none of you will leave me alone to think about it!” You fired back exasperated. The building rage inside your eyes quieted down at the admission. You were terrified of what happened next. Everybody was always on edge these days. Life went from easy to hard in what felt like a night after your parents had left.

He opened his arms up, “Alright, come on. Come here pretty girl.” It didn’t take him much effort to pull you right into his embrace. In another instance you’d probably have fought him, but you were terrified and exhausted and his warm embrace was everything you needed. He pulled you closer before resting his head on yours, “It’s okay to be scared.” He whispered knowing that your nosey as hell brothers were likely sticking their ears to your door.

You closed your eyes letting the scent of his cologne mixed with the long day wash over you. So much more refreshing than the scent that washed over you earlier. Dally was always your comfort. No matter how harsh a day or words that were spat you knew you could count on him. No matter how mean you were to him either, “You yelled at me.” You felt another wave of tears come on. God, you felt so pathetic in his arms crying about being yelled at. Some greaser you were.

“I know.” He sighed giving you another reassuring squeeze, “You scared me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just let out my frustration out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve been there to protect you.” He sounded a bit angrier not that he was getting it off his chest.

You pulled your head back gaping at his with a confused expression, “Is Dallas Winston apologizing?”

He gave you that soft smirk that you’d come to love, “If you tell someone I did, I’ll deny it.” He brushed the stray tears away with his thumb, “I don’t like it when you cry.”

You laid your head back down on his chest, “Don’t make me cry then.” Quipping back, you knew that wasn’t entirely fair. He wasn’t the sole reason you were in tears. But he was the reason you were crying then.

He leaned down whispering in your ear, “I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. You know I’m a fuck up. But I’ll try. I’ll always try for you.” There was no chance your brothers could hear him for you hardly could. Or maybe that was the rough pounding in your ears. He wanted it to stay between the two of you. He knew Darry would flip if he tried to make a pass at his sister. So, he’d keep his distance from you, for now. But he couldn’t promise to restrain himself if you made advances on him, he’d fold in an instant if you did.

“I believe you.” You fisted his shirt in your hands, grasping onto him. This certainly wasn’t what friends did. But it felt right to cling onto him. To mold into his touch and his embrace. Dally felt so incredibly meant for you the thought of not being with him hurt you.

He held onto you for just a bit longer before pulling back, “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You’ve got me. Your brothers. All those friends. You’ll be just fine.”

You gave him a quick nod brushing the fogginess out of your eyes, “Thank you Dally.”

“Always. Now come on, let’s go eat before Darry force feeds you.” He stood, unwrapping himself from you, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Darry would, wouldn’t he?” You smiled taking his hand in yours happily.

He gave you that look, “Let’s not find out.” Before pulling you out the door. To nobody’s surprise were all three Curtis brothers not even subtly eavesdropping in on the conversation right outside your door.

“All of you. Unbelievable.” Your laugh let them know they’d called just the right person to brighten your spirits. Darry knew it was only a matter of time before you realized that he was your person. The thought terrified him. The older you got the closer the two of you grew. But time and time again Dallas had shown Darry just how much he loved you too. His actions and his words showed just how much he actually did care for you.

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[winstonsns]

i read your cuteness aggression for the curtis!reader and i’m in love! can you maybe do preferences with a curtis!reader who’s a year younger than pony? thank you and have a wonderful day/afternoon/night! ☺️

the gang and 13 year old curtis!reader (request)

pairings: ponyboy x reader, johnny x reader, soda x reader, darry x reader, dally x reader, two-bit x reader, steve x reader

warnings: cussing

authors note: this is strictly platonic guys!! i feel like i’ve been falling off lately LMAO. i hope u guys enjoy though 💗

word count: 1.0k

PONYBOY CURTIS

the two of you are the closest in the gang, being the closest in age and him being a protective older brother to you

he doesn’t always feel the closest to his siblings because him and darry are always arguing, soda’s in the middle and doesn’t interfere anymore

but you’re always one to comfort pony after he gets into a heated argument with his oldest brother

he helps you with homework a lot since you’re not far behind him, he helps you study and get super high grades so darry isn’t on your ass for shitty grades

pony also reads you books when you’re stressed, it’s also just something he enjoys doing in your presence

quality time means a lot to him because his brothers are never home, he’ll read a magazine or do homework in a room with you, it gives him a sense of safety

JOHNNY CADE

the two of you aren’t exactly the closest in age but you talk to each other about everything

you and johnny hang out at the lot and sometimes fall asleep there, when you wake up, you direct him to your house so he can sleep there too

sometimes he’ll give you little gifts for fun, remembers a lot of things you tell him

if you talk about a book or item you want once, he’ll get it as soon as he can

he really appreciates your friendship and will do anything to keep it and strengthen it

probably let’s you borrow his switchblade even though he always has it on him, has backups too

SODAPOP CURTIS

he’s the most annoying but loving brother to you, always asking you if you have a partner yet and teasing you if you do

“ooooh.. who were you hangin’ out with today, y/n? you like them?”

“soda, i’ve been friends with them for years!”

“yeah, but do you like them?”

he’s the embodiment of the trend ‘i know love is real because (name) is real and they are full of it’

soda makes sure you have a lot of attention and love, doesn’t necessarily try to replace your parents but is somewhat nurturing to you

he doesn’t rant to you often because he knows it can be overwhelming, you’re just a kid, as he puts it and shouldn’t be dealing with others problems

sometimes he’ll take you to the DX after school so you can gossip and you can learn about working

DARRY CURTIS

darry’s your eldest brother and is extremely protective of you, always checks up on you and asking about your day

he has the same expectations for you and ponyboy, he checks over your homework but is calmer with you

he wants you to be with some sort of guardian wherever you go, even if you’re walking down the street for fun

he knows it’s not the safest for you to be alone, especially at night

because he doesn’t have the best relationship with his brothers, he makes cake with you more often than he does with the others

he does not let you participate in rumbles, he says it’s way too dangerous for you to fight

DALLAS WINSTON

he fucking hates kids so it’s a surprise he enjoys your presence

you remind him a bit of himself, you’re a bit of an ‘outcast in the outcasts’ because you’re the youngest and told you can’t do anything

so dally teaches you how to live in case you ever get put on the streets, teaches you what to do in the worst case scenarios

he’s hard on you though, it’s tough love and he can get really frustrated if you get hurt or in trouble because he’s taught you how to protect yourself

steals random stuff for you, most of the time it’s candy or random sweets like popcorn from the drive in, sometimes it’s a drink

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

you remind him of his younger sister, he feels obligated to protect you in some way

most of the time, soda and darry are working so they aren’t home most of the time, pony’s hanging out with johnny so keith watches over you

sometimes he calls himself your babysitter because he thinks it’s funny, it’s even better that he knows you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself

he’ll tell you super inappropriate jokes and when darry’s there, he’ll smack him on the back of the head

“two, knock it off. she doesn’t needa hear that stuff!”

“i didn’t even do anything, super—“

he steals stuff for you too, whether it’s something related to your studies or a random item you want for some reason

STEVE RANDLE

originally didn’t want to be around you, he doesn’t want to be around ponyboy and you’re with him all the time

but eventually, steve warms up to you and lets you hang out with him and the gang sometimes

he’s actually pretty smart and not many people expect that from him, he helps you with homework even though he can get frustrated at times if you don’t understand

if you’re into cars, expect him to teach you all about them and for him to invite you to the DX

maybe he lets you help him fix some of the cars, of course you won’t get paid money, instead snacks he gives you for free

soda will come up to you in the morning as you’re barely awake, talking to you

“steve said to come to the DX after school, gonna teach you some stuff about cars.”

[sodapopboy]

one minute away from death, sodapop curtis will crumple in on himself, protected by a manmade hill as blood trickles onto the grass. he will weakly press his dirt covered hand to his lips. he will think of his mothers gentle hands as she’d wash mud off his and darry’s faces. he was five years old at the time.

fifty seconds away from death, sodapop curtis will sit on his ass for the first time in ages. a privilege he used too sparingly. like the night darry slapped ponyboy, he thinks. he fumbles with his pocket to reach his lighter, but his hands seem to be weaker than he thought. when someone finds and recovers his body, they will read the words engraved into the lighter and wonder who ‘sandy’ was, and wonder if soda had a wife at home.

forty seconds away from death, sodapop will tune out the sound of the battlefield. he’s brought back to the first day of middle school, and sitting at some table in the center of the cafeteria with kids who didn’t necessarily get him. he remembers seeing a ravenette boy sitting alone, and getting up without another word as soon as they locked eyes. steve graduated a few weeks before soda was drafted. he saved himself, the army boy thinks, and he couldn’t be more relieved.

thirty seconds away from death, sodapop curtis will think of ponyboy. he won’t see him graduate, he thinks sadly. he doesn’t let it get to him. he remembers the day ponyboy brought back his first real award at school, something regarding writing. soda remembers how on that same day, he brought back a report card filled to the brim with D’s and even one F. sodapop curtis will die with a grin on his face, knowing ponyboy will be the first curtis boy to graduate, and will never touch the battleground. soda is fine with that, much preferring to see ponyboy clutch books instead of artillery.

twenty seconds away from death, sodapop curtis will think of darry. he has lost too much, and soda doesn’t know if he’ll come back from this. if he’ll even try to deal with it. darry has lost two of his brotherhood, and is about to lose the last living remnant of his mother. he finds it laughable, darry had spent all this time worrying his head off about ponyboy, and soda’s the one who slips through his fingers like sand.

ten seconds away from death, sodapop curtis thinks of his parents. his mother, oh-so beautiful and caring. his father, the strongest man he knew. he thinks about how they made their oldest son promise to always look over their two younger ones. he thinks about how he walked into the sterile hospital room as they were clearing it out, and saw them sharing one hospital bed, intertwined. for now, and forever.

when death washes over sodapop curtis, he will not be mad. he slumps against the manmade hill as he slowly goes slack, being here for only 18 years and yet he felt much more older than dally and johnny.

the boy will lay there, limp and content even in death, because above everything he’s done in his brief life, he has loved.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The last time Dally was having a week this bad he was eleven years old and fresh out of juvie, running from New York with nothing but the clothes on his back and three dollars his sister gave him instead of any sort of proper goodbye.

Shoot, but he’d thought he left that all behind, coming to rodeo country from brooklyn had felt like a retirement of sorts, and he’d gotten half used to the quiet, even if the itch under his skin sometimes still had him wishing there was blogger trouble to get into than tussling with Shepard or baiting some soc into a fight.

Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to end up in another murder wrap. Then again, he probably could have dealt with it a whole lot better if it had been anyone else who’d done it. If Tim had shown up at his place, cool but just a little less collected than usual, Dally would have grabbed a bag of salt and a shovel and driven with him into the backwoods to dump the body without having to think twice. If Darry or Two, or hell even Sodapop had showed up at his door he could have given them a lot better advice than to run a few towns over and hide out in a busted out church. 

But it wasn’t anyone else. It was the kids. Of course it was. 

He knows he’ll never forget it, the way Johnny had looked holding that knife, dried blood like scales on the back of his hand and soaked into the cuff of the jacket Dally had given him a year ago, a look in his eyes Dally had only ever seen once before, years ago, in a different face in a different life. It wasn’t fear, wasn’t anger, wasn’t even really panic- it was exhaustion, plain and simple. The type of bone deep resignation that came with being so beaten down and broken that when someone finally snapped they couldn’t even find themselves to be surprised by it. That look in Johnny’s eyes- just a year younger than him, but somehow so much older and younger at the same time- had haunted Dallas ever night for the past week, stealing the scant minutes he’d managed to set aside to sleep, as those soulful, empty eyes rose in his subconsciousness, staring at him for hours in the darkness.

Then there was Ponyboy, small for fourteen and even smaller shivering in the darkness, eyes wide in his peaked pale face, terrified and naive and stupid. 

What was Dally supposed to do? The kid had been so pissed he wouldn’t have gone home to Darry even if he’d begged on bended knee, especially if he’d suggested hiding Johnny anyway. The whole gang knew Pony worshiped the ground Johnny walked on and hardly seemed to realize it. 

So he’d sent them, the broken one and the baby, a few towns over with 50 bucks and bullshit he could pass off as advice instead of half crocked wishful thinking, and had paid the price for such an idiotic rash decision ten times over. He’d deserved the cracked rib Darry had given him when he found out about the whole thing, especially since he still hadn’t let slip where the kids are. He hadn’t deserved Steve’s icy silence, but he’d taken it with as much grace as he could muster anyway. Steve had already lost a lot in his life, and it was no secret Pony was a favourite of his even though he worked too hard to hide it. Dally could take a little bit of heat if that’s what it took to stop Steve from following Soda into full raving lunacy.

At least the benefit of his shitty advice is this: the kids are still close enough to reach, close enough for him or any of the rest of the gang to get to if they need to, at least for the moment. Not for long though- his selfish desire to keep them close can’t last much longer, he knows. He’s been planning, fund them a half safe route across the border that’ll keep them out of trouble until the whole thing dies down. 

For now though, he parks Buck’s shitty car down a dirt road thats barely more than tire tracks in worn down earth, and starts walking, the church on Jay mountain looking a bit more decrepit than it had the summer he spent out here a few years back working as a ranch hand. 

As he draws closer he notes the broken windows and missing boards and soft part of him, the part that knows he loves these fucking dumbass kids as much as he wishes he didn’t, hopes they weren’t too cold these past few nights.

He banishes the thought from his mind, instead letting out a long low whistle followed by a sharper, higher note, the one Tim’s gang uses to communicate with each other, but that Johnny knows because he spends enough time around Shepard territory to be half decent buddies with some of the younger guys in that gang.

Sure enough, as he rounds the hill a familiar head of jet black hair peers around the side of the church, breaking into a grin at the sight of him, and Dally’s traitorous heart leaps, relief a better upper than Tim’s good coke.

“Hey Dal!”

“Heya Johnnykid,” he can’t help the urge to reach out and ruffle the guy’s hair, especially since it been hacked off in a poor approximation of any sort of haircut, “geez, what’d you do to your hair, huh? Let Pony attack you with scissors, in the dark, blindfolded?”

“Shut up,” Johnny shoves at him halfheartedly, “I thought it’d be a good way to disguise ourselves.”

“Well it's true no one’ll mistake you for a murderer but they’ll take one look and think you escaped the looney bin.”

The kid winces a bit at the word murderer and he immediately feels bad, even though there isn’t much he can do to take it back now, is there?

“Where’s the kid?” He changes the subject, “I figured he’d be tearing down the hill the second he heard me whistle?”

“Inside,” Johnny jerks his head towards the church, leading Dally through the half rotted doorway.

Inside is as dingy and gross as Dally remembers from the one time he came to scope the place out before. The pews are rotted to the point it looks like if anyone older than three tried to sit on them they’d fall right through, and the concrete floor is so covered in dirt it's nearly black.

All of this ceases to matter of course, when Dally spots Ponyboy’s thin frame curled up in the corner, eyes closed, face white as a sheet. If he weren’t trembling ever so slightly, Dally would swear he was dead.

“Jesus,” he hisses, and Johnny nearly flinches, “what the fuck is wrong with him?”

“Nic sick,” Johnny sighs, shaking his head, and for a second he looks so much like Darry Curtis its comical, “I told him to cool it with the cigarettes but he didn’t listen.”

Dally sighs. No wonder he couldn’t bring himself to give them a proper escape plan a week ago. Six days in and Ponyboy’s smoked himself into a stupor, meanwhile Johnny’s lost about three pounds and whatever remained of his innocence.

Whatever. He’s here now. That’s what matters.

“Glory,” he says to Johnny, nudging the tip of his boot into Pony’s side, “he looks different with his hair like that.”

Ponyboy’s green eyes snap open.

The story continues.

[pumpkinsy0]

any hcs abt soda/darry and how they feel abt PaperCut/Curly ?

YKNOW WHAT I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS FOR A GOOD LONG WHILE IM TOTALLY EXPLAINING THIS ONE I HAVE A LOT TO SAY☝🏽

sodas thoughts on em

i said it before and ill say it again, soda doesnt HATE curly, i truly don’t think he does, it takes a lot to make a guy like soda hate someone, however i don’t think he likes curly either, and that truly ONLY comes from the fact that curlys hanging out w pony. to say soda woukd hate curly feels like a huge mischaracterization that i see in fics and DONT GET ME WRONG its interesting, but it gets to a point where it gets a lillllll boring???? cause ikkk if curly was just some regular greaser who wasn’t close to them, i don’t think he would rlly care much for what he was doing. u gotta remember that he lets pony hang out w DALLAS here and there, and i’m willing to bet that it’s bc he knows pony doesn’t look up to him. but w curly, it’s obvious pony LIKES being around him and look it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that them being around each other is a literal danger, he’s protective of pony as is, to have some HOODLUM!! around pony scares him even more so bc they’re around the same age and pony technically doesn’t have anyone who’s his age so he knows pony’s naturally seeking that out. there’s only so much the gang can rlly do for pony!!

and i will die on the hill that as much as he “slightly doesnt like” curly, he still does care for him!! theres a cap on how little he doesnt bc he knows that at the end of the day, curlys also a troubled kid looking for connections. if things were different, i dont think soda would rlly mind them being together cause he knows they make each other happy, and thats all he could rlly want.

darrys thoughts on em

dare i say,,,i dont think darry would gaf AS MUCH as ppl say

i dont think darry is HOVERING over them wondering what theyre doing 24/7, i say this bc again, they let pony hang w dally sometimes, but then even without dally being there, if he didnt exist, they STILL wouldnt care bc EVERYONE around town acts the way curly does. they dont have the biggest moral high ground bc theyre pretty desensitized to what crimes ppl commit. add on the fact that darry got bills to pay and yea i cant see him putting all his energy into helicopter parenting pony like that.

only time he ever would b like that is around the time he knows the social worker is gonna visit, where darrys more stressed and wants everything to go smoothly, so pony is t taken away from him, i dont think u can rlly blame him for that😭

AND YKNOW WHAT??? i think darry cares more for papercut/curly than soda does partially bc he sees himself in curly (and pony) when he was younger!! carefree, just doing anything they wanted, and yes times have changed, that doesnt mean he wants to keep pony on a tight leash. its usually darry who has to pull soda back and just b like “let it go”, soda cant fathom it and no amount of explaining could rly make him understand, over the years hes just gonna have to see it for himself

[dallasgallant]

I never realized it before until recently but it’s so crazy how much and how often ponyboy babies johnny in the book….. always talking about him being the pet of the group (which is true but he really does talk about him like he was a dog or a cat like chill out girl 😭), how much hero worship he has for everyone around him, his stature and soft spoken-ness, pony really seems to preserve him by making him seem like 10 years old even though he describes many situations in which johnny is taking care of him especially in windrixville like staying awake for him on the train letting him sleep on him, his own jacket as a blanket when he goes to buy them food, etc lol I hope you get what I mean I don’t have the book with me rn so I can’t really give off exact examples off the top of my head but—

also maybe that’s why people are often soooo turned off by the concept of J and D being a ship because of how PB describes him, I’ve seen people think that J was the same age or younger than him and so they think of a big brother/little brother dynamic for jally when they actually seem more on equal ground than pony and dally (who in a kind of mentor/mentee relationship) and even pony and johnny (who I’d say are in more of a brother relationship… controversial opinion I know but I’m sticking with it!) in fact I’d say they’re the Most on equal ground in the whole story even more than soda and darry…. but I’ll let you guys figure that out on your own… even though JD only have a 1.5 age difference

okayyyyy so I definitely didn’t mean to make this about the ship dynamics of the book but I guess I can’t not be gay for five fucking minutes 😭😭😭 but it’s relevant to the point !!! idk I just felt like rambling to someone about it because pony really does talk about him like he’s so little and I think that really muddles the perception of johnny even though he’s trying to honor his memory because of the delicate ways he’s trying to protect him after he died :(

johnny cade they will never make me hate you </3

Oh yeah, I definitely think a lot of it is Pony’s recognition of himself as the youngest, as a “baby” and sort of projecting it off onto someone else. However, we know the gang doesn’t just see pony as “the kid brother” so it’s sort of his own issue to work out- as well as I think a bit of a lack of understanding? Or lack of a way to properly explain the way the gang treats Johnny, they take it a little easy on him as he’d been shaken pretty bad (they wouldn’t known/use ‘traumatized’ but they would know he changed a little) but they never really talk down to him.

No but yes I agree! Pony sort of washes over a lot of senecios where Johnny is clearly the older/more mature of the two of them. He’s the second youngest but he’s still 16. He’s still protecting and helping Pony like the rest of the guys and the whole “my fault for dragging a 13 year old kid along” detail��

No you’re right honestly. It’s weird to me as Johnny’s described as soft and close to Ponyboy but he never came across as 14 or that young to me in the book or movie— like there was always that knowledge to him that revealed his age. And I agree… he and Dally are on equal footing and trust. They have something going on whatever way you interpret it…. Personally I find “little brother” INSANE. As where people baby Johnny they over age Dallas… he’s 17 it’s a years age difference. If a friend barely older than me tried to pull that I’d throat punch them 😭 it’s ? They’re trying to make it cute but it feels a little demeaning? Putting the “little” in there. Dal doesn’t talk down to Johnny… honestly he talks up to him, gets mad expecting him to know better etc — trusts him with the gun, money etc everything and taking responsibility.

But no that’s also so sweet that in a way, even if Pony is being a bit off in how Johnny was treated that he’s trying to sort of protect him within his story. Honor him in a strange way. Ough. He was his best friend, you’d want to sweeten that image. Absolve.

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 8; "My reputation's never been worse."

“This is so fucking stupid.”

I shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket, eyes rolling at the sight of the boys, noise makers between their lips, some jank ass sign unraveling in the wind.

“Your mom’s fucking stupid,” Max fired back with his usual goofy smile, words muffled from the noise maker in his mouth. His knocked his fist against my elbow gently as he passed by, moving to help Cy hold up the poster board.

They’d bought it at a random Walgreens, after having forced the Uber driver to pull over, abruptly. Then, with bumpy hands and terrible penmanship, they wrote out some sarcastic for Sam about returning home from prison.

“Don’t be a sour puss, dude,” Adam replied. His brows were furrowed, chin dipping side to side in disagreement to my negative statement.

I looked to him, watching as he pulled a cone shaped hat down onto his hair, the rubber band snug against his chin. The meer humor of the too-small hat on his head made his words lose any meaning. I wanted to laugh, but instead I shot back, my brows skeptically, sarcasm quick as air, “Who? Me? No, never!”

Adam scoffed a laugh. His hat was finally adjusted now, hands falling to his sides exasperatedly. “Seriously. Just try to be nice, for once. Sam said Daisy’s, like, so sweet.” My skepticism only darkened my gaze, sarcasm sinking into genuine wonder, “So, what, we’re gonna be dancing around some child all summer?”

It was a valid question. When Sam asked us about Daisy joining the tour for the summer, everyone else just jumped on board. I, however, took a little convincing. What business did she even have here, 5,000 miles from home? It’s not like she had any professional connections to touch on, nor was London that interesting. Or, maybe I was just being a pessimist, again…

To say the least, I had trust issues. Or, in my therapist’s more light turn of phrase, I was cautious, careful to new people because I had a lot on the line with my career and had been through numerous situations with others that ended up with me, well…in therapy.

Max battled with the cardboard sign as the wind seemed to be winning the war. He struggled to get the words out as he scuffled to straighten its edges, which seemed to take more work than it needed to, “She’s literally only 5 years younger than you.”

“So, a child?”

“So, a 23 year old, grown woman. She’s really smart, Sam said. I’m sure you can have some fun conversations about the elements and shit.”

“Sam’s biased,” I murmured, focused now on the cigarette between my pointer and middle fingers. I dallied with lighting it, displaced energy in the act. It was early. I was tired.

“Sam’s one of your best mates,” Cy shot me a look. “Listen, just give her a chance. Stop moping just because you think some woman’s gonna take away from our guy time this summer.”

I straightened up, offense hitting my features like a stone wall, “When did I say that? I’m just worried we’re gonna have to cater to some child while we’re trying to literally do our jobs. She’s gonna be pursuing around like she’s in some Taylor Swift video while we’re going to be trying to earn our income. It’s just…weird.”

I’d never mention that fear to them- the fear I had of this trust. I think maybe if they all looked at me a little more closely, they’d see it. They’d see the fear in my eyes. But, I was really good at displacing my anxieties onto a separate, less pressing issue.

If I was ever terrified the sky was going to fall, then, suddenly, I was lashing out about the uncut grass in the front yard, randomly. Gotta love unhealthy coping mechanisms. Cy was still looking at me all judgmentally. I knew he wanted to lecture me further, but he simply reached over, patted my shoulder, and said, “Just…try not to be a dickhead, okay? Let the girl enjoy her summer.”

Max continued on, blabbering about something or the other. “I’m, like…Ollie, have you ever even seen a Taylor Swift video? I am pretty sure not a single fucking one takes place in Europe. They’re all super conceptual and abstract. Honestly, you might actually love some of ‘em. What’s that older one? With the trees and shit?”

“Out Of the Woods?” Adam was quick to fill in the blanks. I looked to him out of the corner of my vision, gaze narrowed. Of course he knew which one it was. He held his hands up, defensively, “What? My little cousin loves her.”

“Mhm,” I nodded, slow.

He trailed off, looking away, “And, maybe, you know, I do, too.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Max latched onto Adam’s help, continuing his rant about Taylor Swift, of all things. “Fuck! Out of the Woods! It reminds me a lot of the Fall for Me video! There’s, ya know, water…lots of running…self-deprecation. Fuck, a Sleep Token/Taylor Swift collab would go so hard!”

“Shit, could you imagine some real drums on one of her songs?” Cy perked up at the thought, fingers thrumming against the corner of the sign that he’d now laid his clutches on. “Sick!”

“Oh, God,” I rubbed my forehead, itching more and more to finally light up my cigarette, puff out a few smokey deep breaths. “I can feel the glitter and sparkles starting to fucking suffocate me! Can we please talk about something else?”

“Whatever, Ollie,” Adam flicked his hand towards me dismissively. He went to change the subject when his phone dinged from his pocket. He pulled it out, in one fluid motion, and read whatever text he’d gotten. “Shit! They just got their bags! Quick! Hold up the sign!”

Max shuffled around, all energetic, trying to make everything look perfect. He quickly tried to put a party hat on my head. I had to shove his entire body into Adam to stop him from getting the string down over my chin.

“Fuck off!” I cursed, brushing out the torso of my hoodie. He giggled, annoyingly, knowing he’d successfully gotten on my nerves. Again.

Max turned his attention away from me and to the two people who had just walked out of the airport, suitcases rolling behind them, backpacks looped around their shoulders. I noticed Sam, first, his head dipped down into his phone, curly blonde hair mopped up atop his head. He was dressed, head to toe, in all black. It was a welcome site, the fifth member of our posse back in our home country, our original stomping grounds, even if he wasn’t from here.

I let a smile overtake my features, excitement bubbling in my cheeks. It was actually really good to see him.

I wouldn’t have even paid any attention to the girl standing beside him if she didn’t stick out so much, like a sore thumb. Her bright pink sweater, gray sweatpants, the purples and greens swirled around her suitcase. Every single thing touching her was just…so colorful. Even the expression on her face, wide grin, cheery eyes- though they were circled by tireless bags- it was all so glaring.

I narrowed my eyes skeptically.

As Sam fumbled about on his phone, she stepped forward, excitedly taking an extra noise maker, my left over party hat, from Max. She barely got the hat on before Sam was looking up, our small crowd erupting into joyous ruckus that caused him to nearly drop his phone.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I watched her, carefully, as she went through the motions of greeting everyone. Adam was his shy, introverted self. Cy was charismatic, Max obnoxiously flirty.

And she was just…constant, through it all. Upbeat, grinning, encouraging to every single average word that my friends told her.

And then she was looking at me, offering her hand. My head shook slightly as if to unscramble my consciousness. I glanced between her hand, her own gaze, unsure of what to do or say. I had been too busy watching. I barely brought myself out of that entrapped stare before my name came fumbling out of my mouth.

“Oliver.”

She seemed a little put off, taken aback, after I blatantly ignored her outstretched hand. But, I didn’t want to shake it. I was afraid that, if I touched it, she might shock me, sting me, scorch me with that bleeding sunshine she seemed to have sticking to her skin.

Besides, I couldn’t trust her, right? Right.

I turned my head away, feeling somewhat ashamed for the way I brushed her off. There was a rejected twinkle in her eyes, one that I could not handle. Moving on from that interaction, or in an attempt to do so, I tilted my chin down, glazing my eyes to the concrete. I shrunk beneath the cover of my hood. I didn’t need to feel bad for anything. I didn’t even know her, nor did she know me.

As the others finished up with their exchange of greetings, the group itself began making its way back to the Uber, with Sam and Daisy now a part of the flow.

The car ride back was objectively short, though it felt longer than the time on Apple Maps said. I rode in the back with the guys, pressed up against the door due to the lack of space. My long knees jutted out awkwardly. The bone of my leg ached from knocking against the door with each bump in the road that the car hit.

I stared out of the window, hoping the painful time would pass quicker. The ugliness of London stared back at me. A small, curious part of me kept darting my eyes towards the front seat, where she sat. But I stilled my gaze on the city.

That was maybe part of the issue- I just didn't understand why Daisy was so interested in visiting this place anyways. It was boring, bland. I associated the cloudy gray skies and rainy summers with some of the worst times of my life. This city looked the way I felt for most of it, too. The people were shit, too. Rude, always in a rush, unforgiving and untrustworthy.

What adventure could one find in this wet, concrete maze of hell?

Bored, I moved my attention back to the interior of the car, still resisting that urge to look forward. Adam, Cy, Sam, and Max were a cacophony of lost conversation, catching up, rumbling laughter. I listened for a moment, intently awaiting her to throw in her two sense. She seemed like the type to talk somebody’s ear off. Perhaps I could read between her sentences, find out her motives, her intentions, find something to use against her, so I could easily hate her and put distance between us-

Oh.

She was sleeping.

Her body was slumped against the door, neck pillow twisted around to support her forehead from the glass of the window. She cradled her hands to her stomach, the blanket she had just up underneath her chest.

The curve of her face caught my eye the most, the simple stillness of the lines around her lips, the peaceful flutter that ruffled her lashes every so often. I wondered what she dreamt of- rainbows, sunshine, lollipops. I bet she was the type of person who would respond, "World peace," when asked what she would wish for if she had a genie.

God. I really was an asshole. Here was this stranger, this beautiful, seemingly kind stranger, trying to catch up on sleep after traveling nearly 20 hours…and here I was, creating an entire persona around the two facts I actually knew about her. Maybe I should give her a chance, like the guys said. Maybe I should let her in, even if it was barely past the surface, and try to be amicable.

Maybe she wouldn’t sell my name to the paparazzi. Maybe she wouldn’t leak photos of me online, or call news sites to gain traction on social media.

I nearly flinched as she shifted in her slumber, so lost in my thoughts that the disruption was a panic. Her lips parted, just so, as air deflated from her lungs. The hair that curled around her face ruffled from the gentle gust.

Though she looked like Sam, she really was beautiful. Sure, Sam was attractive, in his own way. But, uniquely, Daisy was…honestly, gorgeous, all doe-eyed, rose lips, freckled cheeks.

I kept staring at her, analyzing, accidentally memorizing.

As I felt myself sinking, into my seat, into myself, into this stare I had on her, I straightened up, shoved myself back in the door.

The poor girl wasn’t even awake.

And I was being far too open.

When we reached the hotel, everyone piled out of the Uber. I went to step out, myself, to begrudgingly helped with luggage. But after I cast a casual glance over my shoulder, I noticed Daisy was still asleep. As though she were his responsibility, I found Sam and went to vocalize the issue with him. But he was busy with their bags.

None of the others were really familiar enough with her to consider her.

No one but me, I guess, because I was reaching out my fingers, touching her shoulder, telling her, "We're here."

I swept myself away before she could wake up and look me in the eyes. - "Where's your sister?" Cy inquired, poking at his dish with the fork in his hold.

Sam shrugged as he continued shoveling french fries in his mouth. "Sleeping, I think. She was fucking exhausted. Could barely get herself to bed this morning.”

"Poor girl," Max pouted his bottom lip. "Has she ever traveled this far from home?"

"Nope."

"Damn. Good for her, then. It's hard to just leave everything behind, to leave your everyday life for this type of thing for this long," Max continued.

I listened intently, though I made it seem like I wasn't even conscious of the guys seated at the table with me. Where they thought I was mindlessly stirring my drink, I was reading between the lines of every vague fact Sam dropped about Daisy.

"Well," he held a hand before his mouth as he chewed, swallowed. He sat back as he began to unload more information about his sister, "No offense to her, but she doesn't have much of a life. She works, like, two-three jobs at any given time. She works at some clinic during the day, waits tables in the evening, then does some stuff on campus here and there."

"Shit. Hope she's taking care of herself," Adam commented, thoughtfully.

"She does. I think. I don't know. We don't really get much time together anymore. Ever since mom died...I don't know. It's been hard to stay connected."

"This summer's gonna be good, then, for you guys to get to see each other," Cy touched Sam’s wrist with his fist, encouraging our friend with his response.

"Yeah," Sam's eyes seemed a little distant then, like there were foggy memories, regrets clouding his consciousness, "Yeah, I hope so."

Max went to speak again when Sam's phone went off. He pulled it out, scrolling through the texts he'd received. "Speak of the devil."

Sure enough, Daisy came padding into the hotel bar. Her hair was damp, twisted up behind her head by some clip. Her features were more prominent this way, skin shining with the care she must have just put into it. As she approached us, her perfume breezed off her skin, off her stupid Taylor Swift hoodie, right past my nose.

It smelled so sweet that I had to look away, focus on something else.

Everyone else greeted her, asking about how she slept, how she felt. I was inattentive, attempting to make it seem like I hadn’t just been thrown off balance.

I needed to do something, say something to her, to be welcoming. To make it seem like I wasn’t such a dickhead, even though I pretty much was. So, I worked on some phrases in my head, hoping to catch her in a side conversation, so there wasn’t so much tension with the others listening in. But, she walked out of the bar as quickly as she'd come.

I found the air to be cooler without her occupying the space.

I shivered and turned my chin towards that freeze.

-

Later that evening, I found myself on the hotel roof.

It was one of my favorite spots, no matter which city we were passing through, which state I found myself to be stuck in. I could go up to the highest floor, even if it wasn’t too far off of the ground, tune out the stress that came with work, and relax into the peace and quiet.

It was one of the healthier coping mechanisms my therapist and I had been working on. I was an antisocial person, to say the least. And when I’d had to be around others for too long, working literal overtime to just function like a normal person, I’d become irritable, withdrawn.

So, stalking off in the late hours of the evening with a book in my hand and some lyrics in my head became a usual, practiced ritual that I was comforted by, especially on tours.

The breeze of London flew past my face, braising goosebumps on my neck. I tucked my chin into my hoodie more. There were these tiki lights, all around me and the intimate seating area I occupied, but the little bits of light did nothing to help me see the book in my hands.

I tucked it away after straining for a few moments and settled on just resonating with myself for a bit. I watched the flames of the fire pit before me, listened to it crackle and pop. I was so focused on the peacefulness, that I hadn’t even noticed the elevator ding, nor the person scuffling across the concrete of the roof.

In fact, I didn’t even notice her until she was sitting across from me, these little alcohol bottles in her hands. The movement of her sitting before me flitted my gaze up, edges of my vision blurred slightly from the intensity of the flames. My hearing focused after. There was music streaming from the speakers on her phone, some Taylor Swift song I didn't recognize. I withheld the urge to roll my eyes and studied her movements.

She read the label on the mini shot of Jack Daniels with squinted eyes. I'd never seen someone pay so much attention to a simple liquor Maybe she'd never drank it before. That would be a strange fact, considering she was 23. Every 23 year old I knew had gone through every liquor known to man. Then, she drank it and I realized why she was so observant. Her face turned up in this grimace, lips puckered, brows furrowed. She just couldn't handle her liquor. Her examination of the bottle was really just a hesitance to consume it in the first place.

I stifled a laugh and instead found my words, urged to tease her for this occurrence, "Gonna share?' Maybe I should have intruded her peace more gently, or maybe I should have said something sooner than I did. Either way, I had spooked her enough that she jumped.

Her once shocked grimace twisted into a deep frown, like she was annoyed I had disturbed her. "How long have you been sitting there?"

My grin widened, though it didn't seem like she found much humor in the situation. "Long enough to know you can't take a shot." I held out my hand, awaiting her to hand over one of the bottles. She didn't do that Instead, her face hardened a bit and she made another comment, “Sorry I’m not an alcoholic. If you want one, you have to come get it, by the way. I’m comfy now.”

I was taken back by her crudeness. Everyone said she was so kind, so sweet. I'd even overheard her niceties earlier, at the airport, at the bar. Had I done something?

Instead of setting the record straight, communicating, though, I became defensive to her jabs. As I reached for one of the bottles, I said, "Comfy with this trash music playing?"

Funnily enough, this made her face sink more, if at all possible. Her frown was deep as a river, and murky as one, too, "Real men listen to Taylor Swift."

I tried another joke, hoping it would salvage the wreckage we were feeding, "Hey, haven't you heard? I'm a vessel, not a man?"

I don't know if it did, but she at least continued speaking to me. "So, vessel, what are you doing up here? Can't sleep?"

I tossed my hand in her direction, speaking with my casual satire, "Obviously." I looked away from her, breathless. I was trying so hard, so incredibly hard to seem careless, chill. I didn’t know why I couldn’t just, actually, genuinely not give a fuck.

I reached for my cigarettes, too stressed out to handle a head that was some sober from nicotine. After a long drag, I felt that familiar buzz of a clear head, the temporary reduction of anxiety.

Cigarettes were always a killer ice breaker, helpful in even the toughest, most awkward conversations. So, when my eyes popped back open and met hers, I offered a hit.

If her face had been disgusted before, it was even more so now. "That's okay, thanks," she almost sneered.

I pursed my lips. Okay, I wasn't the only one killing this conversation. She acted like she was just too good for anything that I had to do with. Like if she were to take a drag from this cigarette, she'd be infected with my sickness.

I voiced the concern with my snide tone again. Her response nearly made me choke on my own spit, “More like my mom died of lung cancer because she smoked for thirty years.”

As quick as possible, I stomped the butt into the ground. "Sorry."

She hummed some sort of response, looking away so uncomfortably. I wanted to grovel, to beg for her forgiveness in the case of such a small moment of misunderstanding, but I settled on another painful jab at a nice conversation.

“I’d ask what you’re doing up, but I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep after the day you had.” She responded in that same dry tone, "Yeah, no."

Annoyed, I began to wonder where all this sweetness had gone. Earlier, with the guys, she had spoken like she'd known them for forever. Here, with me- she acted like I'd spit in her coffee this morning, like I was holding her at gun point just to have this conversation.

I gave up on trying to be overly considerate and shot straight to the point. I wanted answers anyways, and now I had a good reason to search for them, "What's your deal, Daisy?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" She responded.

I shrugged as I crossed my arms over my chest. What did she want it to mean? "Why are you here?" Instead of just answering the question, she countered me, echoing the question. Good fucking game, Daisy Hallett. Good fucking game.

I stretched my body out as I thought, unsure of how to answer. What was I here for? To do my job, obviously. So, I told her that. But, I should have known she would pry deeper. That were her job, after all, to observe, analyze, pry.

“That’s not what you’re here for,” She rejected my words, shaking her head just slightly, “That’s what everyone else is here for. What about you, Oliver?”

I started making music for myself, not anyone else. In the darkest, most terrible parts of my life, it had gotten me through to the other side with ease. It was my biggest coping skill, sitting at a clear number one on the list my therapist and I had outlined.

Getting paid for it, getting to tour and travel cities…that was all a plus. Touring, performing itself, were two things I was still trying to get used to. It was awesome to get to play my music life for others, to help them through to the other side, but it was sometimes…overwhelming, a hard pill to swallow.

So, I answered honestly this time, “To…worship. To celebrate my music, myself…life.”

She was impressed by this answer, pleased, and I could tell this by the stretch of her lips. That sweet, enticing smile did something to me.

As she held up the shot bottle in a gesture to cheers, I returned the smirk. We danced on the edge of some invisible line.

"To life."

I wanted to hear more of her voice, more of...her, more about her. So, I scrambled and said, "Wait, what about you?"

“There’s no deeper meaning to anything I do,” she waved me off.

I understood her more in this moment than I sometimes understood the people closest to me. She was like- she was insecure, she was scared. She was a little kid with monsters under her bed and in her closet.

So, I affirmed her existence with words that seemed so simple, yet would have meant so much for me to hear, too. “Oh, Daisy, there’s always deeper meaning to everything humans do. Think. What’s yours?”

This threw her off balance, yet somehow kept her from falling off the edge. It made the gears in her head turn, made her question her own thoughts. "I guess…I guess…to find that deeper meaning. To find what I’m looking for, maybe.”

She still didn't seem too sure, but I knew that, once this summer ended, once the leaves turned brown, and she returned back to a place called home, she would know it in her bones.

And I think, maybe, I might know it, too.

Sooner, rather than the later that I hoped for, we were in the elevator. Hours of breathless conversation sat, stale in the air on the roof, abandoned as the steel doors trapped us in silence.

The more she told me, the more terrified I was of her very existence. She was smarter than me, and very good at returning snide comments. Her wit was so profoundly intelligent, that I found myself silenced on more than one occasion.

Above all this- she was a disruption- she was chaos. She made me think differently, harder. She made me laugh.

I was drawn in by all of this, by her eyes, by the way the corners of her pink lips curled up into her cheeks. It took me a second to realize that she was staring back up at me, that our shoulders were turning to face one another, that my fingers were grazing the sleeve of her hoodie.

"You're very pretty, Daisy," the words fell out in a dangerous whisper. I loved the way she blushed, the way the tip of her nose scrunched, and she fell back onto her heels a bit.

I would have kissed her, I knew that for sure, had the elevator doors not opened up, had we not parted ways there, in the barren hallways. And I would have sought her out, would have reached for a simple phone number, another moment on the roof, another conversation about life and college and her favorite fucking color...

had I not made it back to my room and looked myself in the eye, through the smudged reflection of the bathroom mirror. The painful eye contact brought me back down to Earth, reminded me of the ugliness swirled up inside my chest, the bitter desire of my own self interest, selfishness.

I was...I was the chaos. I was the disruption. Here was this beautiful, interesting, smart girl...and here was me, this man-giant, who could barely hold a conversation without feeling like he was going to have a panic attack. Besides all that, her brother was my fucking best friend. I was his boss.

This was territory that I could not enter, not without a guilty conscience and someone's broken heart. So, I would proceed with caution, although it ended up making me seem like the worst person in the world.

-

I knew I could no longer keep up the act only a few weeks in, all thanks to Whitney Houston and this stupid pink fucking dress.

I watched her parade herself all night, guzzling drinks like they were air, batting her stupidly prim and perfect eyelashes my way. She knew exactly how to get me going- how to lock me in, most of all. And I was playing right into the fucking game, weak signs and Achilles heels all exposed from the second that she stepped out of that hotel room.

When I saw that knowing, vivacious smirk- I knew tonight would be different.

It wasn't until she was passed out, in my bed, with my hoodie on, that I realized I was falling for her. I had been able to subside the hunger that I felt, the hunger I felt to speak to her, to consume her with my eyes, my teeth, my hands, my body- God. It was easy to push all these thoughts away when she wasn't there- but then, she'd show up at breakfast or dinner or in my dreams and thoughts and desperations and I'd spiral again.

It didn't help that I was letting it get to me so much- and she was literally trained in analyzing behavior. I exposed my curiosities with even the slightest dip in my gaze or lift in my shoulders. There was a moment, during breakfast, when she told us of her plans for the evening of one our first shows- that she wasn't coming to.

Max had to go and make a stupid joke when I just barly glanced up from my plate, "Even Ollie's hurt!" I stopped coming to so many social gatherings, at least where she was concerned. And, then, I got all the space I needed when we took off on the buses.

Everyone flocked to her side, wanting even a second of her attention, while I kept to myself on the other bus. Because I thought the guys might leave me alone about it, I could almost reside in absolute peace.

But, then, Ronnie came knocking on my bunk.

It was early morning. We were stopped for gas, somewhere in Northern Italy. The bus was deadly silent, with nothing but my own quiet breath and the hum of the outside world to keep e company. Ronnie came in, bounding, like she always did. She slammed the bus door shut, jarring me from the focus I'd had on the game of Mario Kart pulled up on my Switch. Next thing I knew, she was ripping open the curtain to my bunk.

"Why the fuck are you rotting in here like a mummy? I'm close to wrapping you up in toilet paper and shoving you in with the suitcases!"

I rolled my eyes as she spoke and slouched my shoulders away. The hood of my sweatshirt dipped enough that she was no longer in my view. "Sam needs to stop gassing up your jokes. It's getting to your head."

"You're literally just jealous because your jokes are only ever mean and borderline tone-deaf," Ronnie grabbed the lip of my hood and tugged it down over my face.

I wriggled away from her, Switch dropping towards the inside of the bunk. I shoved her hands away. "Says you, Miss Jimmy Carr."

Ronnie's jaw jutted open a bit, "Now that's fucked, Ollie."

I went to jab back again, but she held up a hand, head tilted like she was a tired, annoyed mother of a band of men babies. "Stop while you're ahead, dude. Back to what I came in to harass you about- you need to come join us! We're playing Mario Kart with peaches- Daisy, sorry. You guys would get along sooo great. I know you're, like, weird about new people, but she's so fucking funny. Please, please just come over, hang out, be chill for once in your life."

Peaches. They had given her a nickname. Peaches, as if she weren't already sweet enough to sour the cuts on my skin.

I huffed and puffed at the rant as I pulled my hood down the back of my head. "First of all, I don't play Mario Kart-"

"I literally hear the music coming from your Switch," Ronnie pointed with a dead stare at the device, muffled humming rumbling from beneath my blanket.

I met her eye, absent any shame of my white lie. I took a breath and dove back into my rejection, "Second of all, why the hell do you guys give out the cringiest, most ridiculous nicknames? Like, peaches?What even is that?"

"It's called joy, magic, and fun, you grinch," Ronnie pinched my elbow. I flinched away from her touch again and she snickered. "If you don't like Daisy, just say so. I won't tell anybody. I'll just resent and judge you in silence- silent words, not punches."

What did she mean, that I didn't like Daisy? I knew I'd been passive towards her, but I never made it so obvious-

The expression on my face must have read confusion or shock because Ronnie popped a hip and crossed her arms.

"Listen," she added, "I know that she probably irks you. I get it. You're the bad boy, dark soul type and she's this ray of fucking sunshine and, yes, peaches. Just- give her a chance before you rain all over her parade."

"I literally never said I had a fucking problem with her. Why does everyone think I hate her guts when I've literally only ever had one conversation with her?" I frustratedly spoke, words rushed together. Ronnie stood back a second, reading the scrunch of my brows, the way I pushed myself up onto my elbows. Then, her offended frown morphed into something knowing, as though bits of information clicked in her head.

"Oh," she rhythmed, grinning now, "I see what's going on here. Hey, she's gorgeous.” "Oh, my God, here we go," I stood from my bunk, now, unwilling to just lay there and listen to her try to evaluate my behavior.

Ronne didn't follow me as I made my way to the back room, "Ollie...just remember who you are. And who she is."

And this sentence alone threw me for the biggest loop.

I didn't even know what she meant by that, but as well I knew Ronnie...it was definitely more than met the eye, deeper than any surface level warning anybody else could give. Not only did I know Ronnie well, but she could read me like a book. She knew what to say to make my skin crawl. Who I am...who Daisy is.

Analyzing the statement from top to bottom, general to specific, it was simple. She was my best friend’s brother. And I was his boss.

It meant more than that, though.

Ronnie meant that Daisy…Daisy was delicate. Daisy was meat, fresh off a shattered bone, and I was a hound.

I was always the hound. The Albatross, even. A winged creature always coming in to swipe shiny things off of stormy shores.

Ronnie didn’t want to harm me with the statement, but she sure as hell wanted to humble me. And that she did.

Each time I found myself aching to find Daisy’s gaze, I’d shrink back into myself. Remember my place. Remember who I was.

And, then…that damn Whitney Houston song. That damn pink dress.

Ronnie knew I was slipping, when I first spotted Daisy, in the doorway of her hotel room, long legs on display. I caught my lips beginning to party, drool beginning to pool in my teeth. This appreciative smirk came upon my face until I met Ronnie’s frown.

And I moved on.

I kept trying to move on, to fly away, leave the gold necklace on the beach for some other lucky, hopeless idiot to clean the sand off of, treasure for the rest of their sorry days.

I paid for her meal, as some sort of reparation for the damage I must’ve done all evening, being the hungry being I was while she toyed with the lock on my cage.

But, I just couldn’t . Especially not when she was running from the bar, sickness visible on her face. I could’ve left it where it was- Max was shuffling after her, ready to help, ready to hold her hair up.

Before I knew it, my feet were racing me out of the door, my hand was on Max’s shoulder, a kind smile was reassuring him that I could handle it, that he could go back to having fun.

My hands were in her hair, my neck was cradling the crown of her head, she was reaching for my wallet, letting us into the hotel room, laying down on my bed. I was giving her my hoodie, placing a bandage on her leg, caressing her fruity skin.

And then…just like that, as quickly as the rain began, like when you can see it in sheets, pounding into the Earth, just there, off in the distance…then it’s splattering on your windshield, the sound jarring you from your tired drive, the blur harming your vision of the road.

It was raining in my hotel room.

I didn’t have an umbrella.

I spent the entire night, laying there on the bed beside her, faced away, tensed up. Every breath she took stopped my heart. Every wrinkle from the white sheets made my eyes blink.

I was spending so much of my thought process trying to remember the taste of her fleeting lips on my own, pressing my fingers to them as though they were stained from her, as though I could close my eyes and taste them, again and again and again.

Then, in the morning, she returned my hoodie. There was this…look…this distant, worried look. Had she remembered? Had she remembered the words I said? Was this going to change anything? Everything? At breakfast, I ignored her persistent eyes, the gaze burning into my soul for answers. When she told us she couldn’t remember anything, I was little relieved.

If she didn’t remember, I could put distance between us, try to forget it myself- try to forget the way her fingers buried themselves into my hair. Try to forget the feel of her nose, pressed into my cheek, her chest, warm against my own.

While I was able to put physical distance between us this week, being that work kept us busy. But, the mental, emotional yards were harder to climb.

Once we made it through the airport, to Italy, I began my practice of celibacy, against the thoughts of her, against us.

I think part of me knew it wouldn’t last. I think part of me didn’t want it to. I think that’s why I was there- in the elevator, headed for the roof, in hopes that I might find her there. I didn’t even know if it was a place she frequented, but my intuition told me it was a good place to look.

And I was right.

I acted shocked when I first saw her, like it didn’t help my blood pump, seeing her, feet in the water, hair curling around her forehead.

She looked so…tense. Stressed. There was this permanent furrow in her brow. Did she really not remember…anything? At all?

Though it was a relief, I wanted to jog her memory (I wanted to kiss her).

I asked Daisy, barely glancing over at her in the seat beside me. From the corner of my eye, I watched her chew upon on her bottom lip, “Not really.”

Why did it feel like a lie?

She must’ve remembered something. Sure, she had been drinking, but…she was smarter than that. “Okay,” I choked, snatching another look at her.

I noticed Daisy turn her chin to return the gaze and I looked back at the city. I couldn’t look into her eyes, look at her face. I’d crumble.

“Is there something I should be remembering?”

It was timid, shy. But bold.

Bolder than I could bring myself to be right now.

Unable to find my own words, unable to form my own lie, I echoed her.

“Okay,” she copied.

The moment swelled in my mind. I wanted- needed her to remember. I wanted her to feel the ache in my bones at the thought of our lips pressed together. Wanted her to feel the longing Maybe then, she’d be the one to break, and I could blame it on her. Make her out to be the bad guy, going after me.

What a fucked up thing to think about.

Before I could catch myself, I blurted, “You don’t remember-“

At the same time, she went to push further on the topic.

I excused myself, motioned for her to continue. But, of course, she let me go instead.

“You don’t remember coming back to the hotel?”

I knew I was confusing her.

“Not really. you’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell me? Something important I should be remembering?” her knuckles, clasped together, were turning white.

I shrugged and pretended to be unaware, “I don’t think so.”

“Why did you tell me to come sit with you?”

She really knew how to make a guy question his own thought patterns. It would make her a really great therapist- but it just made me want to run.

To hide. To slip away from this disruption in my damaged peace.

I sighed, thoughtful, though still unsure, “I don’t know. Thought it would be nice. Like when we were in London-“

“Like when we were in London and you proceeded to pretend like we never did this? Like when we were in London and you kept interrupting me, so I couldn’t tell everyone we had been up on the roof together?”

So, she was pissed.

I knew she would be. She acted like she didn’t care, but I saw through the disguise. It reminded me of me.

I shrugged, putting on the same play, “Like that.”

I guess that was the comment that sent her off the edge, though. She was too guarded, too respectful of herself to take the bullshit I pushed. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

That wasn’t it for me. I needed to know what she knew. She obviously remembered more than she was letting on.

I slid into the elevator behind her, “Daisy-“

I swear to God, the rhythm of her breathing palpitated when I said her name-

“I need you to be honest with me. What do you remember?”

“Oh, cause you’re such a conscientious person yourself?”

I pulled at my hair, stressfully, “I really don’t think we’re on the same page right now, Daisy. Please, if we could just talk about this, if you could just tell me what you remember-“

Gears seemed to click in her brain. Something I said, the way I moved, the flash of the stars in her eyes, something had triggered a memory in her head. Something suddenly made sense.

I tried to help, though I was probably just being an asshole. “I want to figure this out, okay?”

I wanted to figure her out.

Whatever clicked was- it fucked things up.

“Oliver,” she frowned, “I can’t play this game with you.”

Game?

What game?

I was only ever playing defense- keeping to myself, keeping her away from my heart, trying to maintain distance. She had kissed me- I was the one to turn her away.

My shoulders fell, “What game? Daisy…I’m confused!”

“So am I, Oliver!”

Fuck. The way she said my name-

“I’m- you’re fucking with my head!”

Like she wasn’t fucking with mine?!

I went back to my original question, hoping to continue digging there, instead of worrying about this new hole she was unburying, “What do you remember?”

“It doesn’t matter, Oliver! I just don’t want to do this with you. Max is right. I should listen to him.” What the fuck did Max say? Why was he involving himself in this? How did he even know about- us- when we didn’t even- what?

What was happening?

“I’m not doing this with you.”

The doors opened, and she was leaving me. In her dust. In the swell of her words.

I retreated back to my room, throat tight, chest contracting for any gulp breath I could get. I fell back against the door like there were bullet holes bleeding out of my chest. I wanted to just...be honest. To be honest with her. Tell her what I really thought, what really happened, how I felt about her.

It wasn't the boundaries holding me back now. All my senses of morality and respect for our situation were dead. It was me. I was the iceberg. I was the gun.

I found my way to the bed, lay there like an empty casket. Dead, hollow, shards of wood. Why was I so afraid of her?

Maybe she'd be good for me...better than the last relationship I had, that much I could already tell. But, maybe she didn't want me for that.

Maybe she wanted to scalp me for my money, for my fame, dish out the gossip to the tabloids. Maybe she wanted to love me.

Maybe I deserved something good. Maybe I deserved to take a risk on something. Maybe I needed to. I was outside her door, before I was really conscious to my own movements, knocking, waiting. For barely a second.

She was opening the door, standing there in this barren light like an angel.

"Daisy."

I was kissing her.

Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, whatever cruel fate she may prophesize or goodness she may expose to my paled skin- I didn't care.

Because she was kissing me.

-

I hadn’t been with someone for over a year.

That was what was so jarring about the entire situation.

It made me cautious, held me back. I’d been on a dating ban since I switched to my new therapist, who wanted me to focus on myself more than I always did on another person.

And for a while, it was going well.

Until Daisy disrupted that.

I knew, for as long as she was alive, breathing my air, I just could never be alone.

Usually, when I dated someone, when I was with them…I still felt that loneliness because I would give so much. And that person never returned it.

Daisy did, by a tenfold. She was…present. She so easily showed up, made time for me, chased me down when I went into those bouts of self isolation.

It was difficult to let her in…to let her join me in the dark.

But she made it feel less lonely. She made me feel…whole.

I started going to breakfast more often, started including myself in the group activities. Not only did she make me feel less alone, but she made me feel like I needed human connection.

“It’s warm, isn’t it?”

I scoffed at my therapist’s words, so simple for something so complex. “Warm. It’s hot. I feel like I’m on fire.”

“Good. Burn,” she responded. “You’re in the light now, Oliver. How do you feel about it?”

“Wow, what a question,” I teased.

Dr. Grime sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement was delayed, due to the time zone different, the laggy wifi in the hotel room. “Seriously, Oliver. Is it…do you feel like you want to snuff it out?”

“Of course I do,” I shuffled on my bed, “you know me. Something good comes and I feel like I don’t deserve it. But…I think it might be okay if I hang around in this for a while.”

“I think so, too,” she smiled. “I like how your language has changed, too. You’d tell me, ‘I don’t deserve this.” Now you say, you feel like you don’t deserve it. You’re recognizing rational thoughts from emotional ones. That’s very important. I’m proud of you.”

I offered a strained smile in response, uncomfortable with her praise. It was appreciated, though, and gave me body a sense of accomplishment.

Maybe I was getting better.

“So, this Daisy,” she leaned forward, more intrigued with the personal aspect of my love life, like some maternal figure.

I chuckled, shaking my head approvingly, “Daisy.”

“Do you…love her?” Dr. Grime poked.

I blushed, deeply, but quickly shoved the thought away, “Oh, no. No way. I…I barely know her. That’s- that’s crazy. Definitely not. No.”

My phone dinged in rhythm with the end of my sentence. It was her.

Daisy: soon as sam goes to bed, i can be over

My eyes lingered on the text, more concerned with this situation now than the accusatory, knowing tone of my therapist’s words.

“Mm,” she paused, “no, of course. So, is this just…a casual summer fling for you? A way to get over everything this, figure out what it is you want out of a relationship? It’s important to have something like this, a stable ground to work up off of for the future, considering you don’t have a great idea as to what love should be like.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, toying with my phone. I stared at the message, reading and rereading the message again and again.

What…was this.

What was this to me?

What was this…to her?

We’d established some boundaries, mostly that I couldn’t really commit to anything to serious. And she said that had been okay.

Was I still okay with that?

Was that still what I wanted?

I was so obviously falling in love with her, but I would never tell anybody that.

Especially not her.

But it didn’t matter if I loved her- did I want her that way? Did I want this to last past the summer?

I did.

And that’s what scared me the most.

Loving her beyond the swept up dream we were caught in, back home, domestically. Loving her casually, routinely, in the kitchen back in my apartment, through school, sharing plants and bath towels.

I wanted that.

I wanted her…her ends and odds.

I lied, “No. I don’t want that right now. Got tour going on, new album soon. You know. Busy.”

Long after therapy ended, I stared at the message. The sun had set, the day had died…and I just couldn’t think of anything to say.

I think if I were to be around her right now, I might blurt out some passionate, mindless thing that I couldn’t bring us back from.

I needed to do…what I always did. Be alone. Ruminate in my thoughts in the darkness of a foreign hotel room in a strange city. All alone.

This felt…easier. Comfortable. What I was good at.

Yeah…this was easier.

The next day, I couldn’t stay from her any longer.

I needed her and she was needed that, too- however we could get each other.

So I pushed aside the feelings I had for her- put up all my walls and boundaries, and took her into my arms-

We would have this summer, even if it killed us.

–

"Hiya, Ollie, dear!"

My mother's voice was a sweet symphonic sound to my tired ears. We were in near opposite time zones, hundreds of miles apart, and I missed her more than anything. Touring usually took everything out of me and she was the one, separate, stable person I could turn to.

We'd only called once or twice the past few months due to my obsessed perversions with a certain best friend's sibling who had been taking up all of my time- not that I was complaining about who.

It was only recently that my mom and I had established such good rapport. Since I was young, she'd struggled to wrap her head around my career choices. Now that I was fully devoted to the act, and quite successful, she pushed aside her disagreement with it and chose to just keep supporting me.

Though I couldn't always answer, her calls were welcome.

"Hi, mum," I sat up in the hotel bed, my back sighing in gratitude at the change in posiiton. i had been rotting in here for a few hours, a little bored since Daisy was out with her friend. I could've went and hung with the guys, but I honestly needed some time to myself. That time was starting to really feel like loneliness, though. I guess before I met Daisy, they were empty hours full of empty feelings. Now, I was waking up to the reality of my existence. I'd made it so dull.

"Are you in Paris yet? Or are you still travelling?"

"We made it a few days ago," I replied. “Show’s tomorrow."

"Oh, I love Paris," she remarked. I could hear her lovely grin through the tone of her words. "I remember when we went there on a school holiday. My favorite part was the Eiffel Tower. It's so big. Now, I hear that it sparkles. You'll have to take a photo for me."

"Sure, mum."

"Have you gotten out much or are you holing up in your hotel room?"

Sheepishly, I scratched my neck. My response was delayed a bit; we both knew the answer. “Uh...I’m getting out there. Ya know, hanging out.”

“Ugh, Ollie,” I could nearly hear the roll of her eyes through the phone. “You know need a lady friend. Someone to drag you out of your bed. I mean, how many times do you get to see Paris. And get paid for it!”

At the mention of a ‘lady friend,’ I blushed. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her about Daisy, and damn did I want to. Though we weren’t even officially together. I didn’t know how to explain that to my mom, so maybe I’d just shy away from the topic, talk about something else.

But I guess my lapse of silent thinking made her think that there already was a lady friend.

“Oh?” she questioned with a cheerful lace to her tone. I didn’t say anything, my brain was unable to come up with anything in response. Acting defensive always made people think the opposite of what I said. Should I just tell her? Get it out of the way? Let her lecture me about my poor choices.

“Well, I won’t badger you. When you're ready,” she was already responding.

I was surprised that she was going to leave it there, to say the least, which only furthered my sentence. She usually pushed until I gave her some semblance of the truth. As she was getting older, I’d realized she gotten more relaxed and didn’t push as much as she used to. I think it was partially due to the guilt she felt for everything between us growing up.

So, I just went to move the subject along when she jumped back on it, “Just- please don’t tell me it’s that Fiona girl. I’m so sorry if it is. I just can’t sit around and watch you be treated so poorly by someone so...so awful. Again. Her personality is just- wow. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. I went to school with her mum, and she was awful towards me. Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree-”

I had to stop her while she was ahead. I guess some things never really, truly changed. "Mum, please! I’m not seeing Fiona again, I promise. I’m not...”

I wasn’t offended that she thought I was. It was just...more or so shocking. Shocking that she thought I’d put myself back in that. I had, a handful of times before. But...I was different now.

I guess she hadn't been around me these past few months, but I had truly changed. This past May’s Oliver very well could’ve let Fiona waltz back into his life. But July’s Oliver? He would’ve been hesitant.

And, even more so- Daisy’s Oliver...Daisy’s Oliver was a changing man. Daisy’s Oliver was a better man.

And I wanted to tell my mum that, I decided. She needed to know- it would ease her mind, along with my own. I know she was always worried for me. So, I told her-

“No, I’m seeing someone else. Her name...her name’s Daisy,” that felt good to admit, to put into the Universe, that I was seeing her, and she was seeing me, even if there were no labels attached.

“Daisy?” she perked up at the name. “That’s a pretty name. What’s she look like? You got any pictures you can text me?”

I realized quickly that I didn’t. In the near two months that we had been sleeping together, consuming one another’s souls, we hadn’t taken a single picture. It was probably for the best, just in case they somehow fell into the wrong hands. But- there were so many moments I could’ve- should’ve- captured. Moments of Daisy, hair whipping past her face on the roof, the lights of Italy glowing behind her like she had angelic wings. Daisy, in my hotel room, in the early morning before she had to sneak away. Tired eyes and an even more exhausted smile as she laughed at something stupid, I’d done in my sleep.

I wanted one. I wanted a picture of her, a picture of us, whatever I could get.

For now, all I had was my memories to help me describe her to my mum. It was easy to do so, considering she was etched into the very nerves in my mind.

“No, I don’t,” I breathed out, “but she’s beautiful. She’s got this-this- God, I can’t even describe her to you. Her hair’s darker, like yours. She’s got these brown eyes. Shorter than me, of course. You can always tell it’s her, though, just by the way she carries herself. She’s got this energy. You’d just have to see it to believe it.”

“She sounds amazing, Ollie,” she sighed distantly then giggled, “Well, if she’s so pretty, where are the pictures? I need to see her! Need to see what this talk is all about.”

I chuckled in response, “I know, I know. I suck.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure it’s difficult, with you on tour and her...what does she do, exactly? Where is she from? Would I know her?”

Here came the long winded, shameful explanation of everything between Daisy and me. The feelings that weren’t feelings, the girl who wasn’t mine, the upset sea tumultuous between us. Her brother. Sam.

I tried my best, “Well, she’s working towards her counseling license. So, she goes back to school in the fall. But right now, she’s on tour with us. Her brother works- um...Sam’s her brother. She just wanted to do some traveling before getting tied down for the next few years.”

“Sam? Sam Hatlett? She's his little sister?” There was a bit of shock in her tone now like I imagined there would be. Sam was like a brother to me, and mum knew that. In fact, she loved Sam. She always had.

When she first met him, she’d pulled him under her wing like a mother bird, like she could just feel that he needed her. So, to imagine that I might go after his little sister is rightfully shocking. It was close to home.

“I know, I know. Again, I suck,” I laughed, though I felt so tense. Rubbing my neck didn’t ease the tension in my skin.

“You don't suck, darling. It’s just a precarious situation, I’m sure. How does Sam feel about it all? Was he weird when you first started dating Daisy?”

When I first began to tell my mum about Daisy, I doubted whether or not I wanted to be completely honest. But I easily fell into the comfortability of her warm conversation and realized I could not bend the truth. Not only did she deserve to know it, but she needed to. I knew, too, that she wasn’t going to judge me, tell me I was making a bad decision. It took three times with Fiona for her to begin voicing her opinion.

Above all, I didn't need to jump through any hoops to win her approval. I didn’t have to play a role, fill a part. I was me. And she loved that man.

I realized, subconsciously, that this was how I felt about Daisy, too. Comfortable. Easy.

Loved.

I explained things to my mom, carefully, making sure she knew of the endless boundaries Daisy always ensured we had and the sweet, delicate moments that made everything worth it. I nearly fell into myself, swept up in the reminiscent beauty of it all. God, I missed her, even if it had been only two days since I’d seen her. Her friend Sasha was in town and took up all her time.

I didn’t know what I was expecting my mom to say, so I held my breath after I finished saying, “But, I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s just a summer thing or what. We’re both kinda in weird positions, so we’re not too worried about that, I guess. We’re just...having fun, ya know?”

As the insecurity rose up my throat and choked me out, I sighed out the rest of the air I had in me and added, “We’re not, like, in love or anything.”

I hadn’t expected her to laugh, that’s for sure.

But she laughed. My mum giggled, like things were well and truly hilarious, like I had just told her a joke. I waited there in silence, waiting for her to make fun of me for being so stupid as to let this situation occur. Laugh at me for being terrible at love and life. There goes Oliver again, breaking hearts, getting his heart broken. He can’t even be in a stable relationship! Laugh, laugh, laugh.

She said, “You are crazy, Ollie,” but it wasn’t meant in a harsh manner.

It wasn’t condescending, it wasn’t mean. She wasn’t making fun of me. She was...she was laughing because it was funny.

“You are usually so good at going after things. I mean, look at you with your music, darling. I said no, how many times? I insisted you do something, anything else. I never supported you financially. I never...I never supported you. I was the odds you were testing yourself against and looking at you now! I mean,” her voice cracked. A sniffle followed. My muscles eased from the discomfort I felt into something that wanted to reach for her through the phone, hug her.

“I know your father and I didn’t give you the best example for love. I know we weren’t some movie star-couple that everyone always knew would last forever. We fought. We weren’t there for you when we should have been. Your father left you. And then I held all these stupid expectations up to you, to try to make you better. And you! You’re successful!”

“And I give you all the credit for that. You are...my pride and joy, Ollie. My life. I am so proud of you, darling. But it breaks my heart, still, that you have not been able to find happiness. That you must spend so much time repairing what I broke. We cannot blame everybody else- you can...you can blame me, Ollie. I know I am to blame. And that is okay.”

“So, forgive me for laughing, forgive me for calling you crazy and stupid and wild, darling, but- it's right in front of your face, Ollie! She’s right there in front of you. Daisy. Darling, if you’re still questioning what love is, what it’s supposed to feel like...please let me knock some sense into you! You are wasting so much precious time on believing that it can only leave. It doesn’t have to stay for long for it to be important. If she leaves at the end of the summer, you will regret not telling her.”

I didn’t have to ask her what she meant; what she knew I’d regret not saying. I knew it, I knew it as well as I knew Daisy’s face, even more clear in my memory now.

“You can beat around the bush some more if you’d like, or you can carry on with this facade you’re so deeply transfixed by. Darling, I know it’s hard to let the chaos subside, to let the goodness in, but as I am getting older, I am realizing that it is bright. It is...comfortable. It is good. You deserve to have a lifetime of that. Don’t waste any more time, Ollie. Please tell her, please let her tell you. Please just...hold what you have.”

I had borne a hole into the wall, but snapped out of my still position when I felt a tear roll down the side of my nose. “H-how? How do I tell her?”

“However you need to,” she chuckled lightly. “Although, here’s a hint, Ollie: you are in the City of Love. Take advantage.”

I knew our call was ending and didn’t know when we’d get to speak again. So, like she had told, I took advantage of the moment and I held what I had; “Mum, just so you know,” my voice came out as a whisper, a gentle patter of rain on the roof.

“Yes, Ollie?” she whispered, too, like there was a gentle card deck stacked between us. I think maybe there was- I think there was always some sort of tension lingering from the harsh moments we’d beat into each other; the fighting, the leaving, the crying. I don’t think she ever felt like I’d forgiven her, as if I really needed to. She had been growing up, too, after all.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know, baby,” I felt relieved that there was a smile in her tone, “now, go. You have some more dreams to chase down. And, Ollie?” “Yeah?”

“Get some pictures for me.”

-

I was lucky that, the next day, everyone was busy with their own plans on opposite sides of the city. So Daisy and I were able to spend some time together, outside of this drywall prison. I was a pretty good listener, too, and remembered all the spots Daisy had gushed about seeing in the little time we’d had together these past few weeks. I was being given the perfect setup to do what I needed to do: we were going to be alone, in the most romantic city on planet Earth. I could finally tell her how I felt.

Of course, so much of me shook with anxiety. What if- she didn’t feel the same way? She didn’t want to risk it? She didn’t want to commit to someone this close to school? Let alone someone who lived across the world from her? These weren't my only fears. There were so many revolving around my career that I could’ve drowned beneath their weight.

Yet, each time I looked at her, I was anchored to her shoes. I couldn’t drift out to sea. I was grounded. Though my fears about how she would react sank, it took another amount of effort to get the words out.

I could’ve done it right away, gotten it out there, cleared the air, so we could enjoy each other even more. That would’ve been the best way: I would've gotten answers, started the day out on the right foot. But, when we got out onto the streets, I was swept up in the busy buzz of the crowds. It was loud in the cafe we grabbed breakfast at, loud on the sidewalks, overly crowded by the river. We finally found a place to sit, breakfast sandwiches and drinks in hand. Though there were still throngs of people all around us. So what good was the City of Love when it was full of ignorant tourists?

The anxiety of what I wanted to do was making me feel grumpy. I shut down a little bit, unable to really engage in much conversation, let alone tell her how I felt. I think it just looked like exhaustion to Daisy, so she didn’t really notice. I did- I was hyperaware of every short sentence, every avoided gaze. All of these people are going to be standing here when I tell her. They’re going to watch her reject me and they’re going to know. They're going to know I’m not good enough. She’s going to walk away from me, leave me stranded in the park, alone with my own rejection and denial. I’m not good enough I’m not good enough.

I thought about what my therapist would tell me, ways to snap myself out of this maladaptive pattern of behavior. My brain lies, she always said. It makes things up, creates false realities based off things others have said to me, or moments of true insecurity rooted in no sense of truth.

Daisy would want me, even if I wasn’t good enough. That was the one assurance I could tell myself to shake off the weary thoughts.

And if she didn’t- well, I don’t think thinking about that was going to help me very much. So, when we got back into the hustle and bustle, shopping around the city, visiting the sights, I opened myself back up.

I didn't know if I’d ever find the confidence. I was on the precipice again, after lunch, when I began spewing cheesy pet names as a sublimation for the words I needed to say. It shocked her at first, hearing such sweet things coming from me. And that stung a little. Was I that monstrous towards her that simple affections made her brows shoot up? Was I that bad? I repeated them once, twice, just so she really knew I meant it.

The day went on and on and I cowered in on myself even more. There were plenty more ample moments, but I just kept letting the clock tick down. I knew we were running out of precious time. If I didn’t tell her now, we would go straight back to secret moments in a hotel room, balancing on a tightrope, pretending like the moment the leaves changed color, we wouldn't be losing each other. I just knew Daisy wanted that about as much as I did.

Just when I was giving up hope, I found my moment, finally. Just after we had stopped to view the Eiffel Tower, some street side scam artist grabbed some pictures of us and was trying to convince me to spend $200 on the copies. At first, I brushed it off, until I caught a small peak at the images on his camera. Before he could spout another line, I was giving him $100. He gave me three photos.

Where my words may fail, these pictures couldn’t. You wouldn’t have to know Daisy and I personally to well and truly and see how infatuated we were with each other. I wasn’t even worried anymore that she wouldn’t want me. I was worried she wouldn’t want the risk, the jump, the caution of a fall.

These would be to convince her to leap. These had to be.

I stopped us outside the hotel, knowing if once we stepped inside, our memories might as well be cleared of the day's events. We would be going back to normalcy, to the real world. Our friends would be waiting there, we would allow the gap between us to grow. I would swallow my words and choke on them.

“I love you,” I pictured myself saying. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you, I love you in London, you in Paris, you at home. I love you from the hotel rooms we’ve indented to the streets we’ve wandered. I love you in the plane, on the bus, in every inch of this world.”

But it just wouldn’t come out.

I tried to encourage myself by thinking of who I was just a year ago. By thinking of how I was a year ago, the person I was dating, the situation I was caught up in. Fiona, the endless hours of fighting, of begging. Crying, screaming, the blood sport we played. Hunter and prey, me the victim and yet the one wielding the sword. I thought of Daisy when I first met her. The scent of her in my nostrils, like a clue that I was to hunt for as long as I could run. Of her in my teeth, when I first caught up to her incessant running. The satisfaction I felt, how disgusting that was. How horrible it was that I loved the taste of her blood on my lips.

And how much better I could breathe knowing that I had let go, that I had put my claws away and instead threaded a needle to stitch her skin close. How beautful that was- the beast retracting, the mask falling away. A true creature coming to light, renewed and willing.

Tears welled in my eyes. The words were there, finally, waiting just atop my tongue. She was leaning closer, clutching my hand, clutching those photos like a rosary, like she would sacrifice herself for me. I would, too. I would I would I would I would.

I think I hesitated a moment too soon, or I think she could tell what was happening. I think tha- that, I think that she was running again.

I think she wanted me to chase her or to stop, or she was placing traps in the woods, waiting for the wolf with a bow in arrow.

Because she was pulling away. And our friends were calling our names.

I didn’t have time to think, wrapped up in the swell of the arrival of our friends.

But I felt the death of the moment. It was heavy. It was rotten.

Later, I sat alone in my dressing room before the show, the photo I had kept between my fingers. I swear I could hear her breath, echoing from inside the paper frame of us. Swear I could feel her hands on my arms, grasping as though the wind would take us away from each other. Her lips on my cold ones, warm and fueling like a kindled fire.

I wondered if she threw the photos away. If she stared at them, with resentment. If she wanted to burn them.

Yet, I could’ve lived and died in that moment if I had to. If I was never able to tell her how I really felt about her, I’d be content to waste away, hanging on her lips like a vine, rotting from indecision and cowardice.

Eventually, Sam poked his head in to let me know it was time to go on. I flinched when he first spoke. It drew me back to reality in harsh, cold lighting. I drew the photo from my face, met his eye, and nodded.

I was lucky he didn’t ask any questions about my reserved response, though I knew he was aware that I was getting into character as this vessel. Part of me wished he had asked, though, if only to have someone to share the darkness with again, if even for just a second. And maybe outing Daisy and I to Sam would force me to tell her everything. Force some sort of decision to fall from the loitering hammer that hung above us.

Sam left. I set the photo down on the counter, not even thinking straight enough to put it away somewhere. Then, I hung the mask on my face, edges of my eyes darkened, just like my mind.

Part of me wished I didn’t even have to perform tonight. Every time I put on this disguise, I was reminded of those dark parts of me, the parts of me that were too much like this creature the costume made into. When I’d first come up with the character, I felt so strongly that I was just like Vessel- nothing but a pit of black, music transporting through me like some god had planted it there. I hadn’t been aware of my very real feelings. I just sat there, in that emptiness.

Things were different now.

Maybe I just needed a break from it all, from the costumes and the concerts and Daisy. Well, not Daisy. Not her. Just...everything involving her.

But never her. I just wanted her always, everywhere.

I didn’t get to have that, though, the break nor Daisy.

In fact, all I got was a slap in the face. When I went on stage, I spotted Daisy in the audience. For a split second, there was a lift in my heart, a fire in my bones. She was here. She hadn’t pulled away- she wanted me. She wanted me.

Then, as the lights flickered, I noticed the look of guilt on her face and the hand around her waist, She was here...with someone else.

I felt myself retracting, cocooning, not for growth, not for birth into something good, something with fluttering wings...but into that moth. Into that darkness.

Into that vessel.

In my fury, I laid claim to Daisy in all the wrong ways. I held her by the throat and let her dangle from my lips, reminded her how desparate she was for me, reminded her just how much she relied on my game. It had never been and never would be our game. I was the villain. I was the hunter.

She was my prey.

I was losing hope for my own reconciliation, for my own change. Maybe I would just always be detached, dark, monstrous. Maybe I would never be able to commit, to give in, to be someone’s something.

Maybe I was just this vessel, and maybe this vessel was just me.

Maybe I was never good enough for Daisy, but just enough to satisfy her furious need for that bad. And that was enough for me.

-

Things got worse when Fiona started blowing up my phone.

I wasn’t sure how she had gotten my number. I had changed it back in March, when I’d ended- really ended- things with her. And, with my career, it wasn’t like I’d just handed my number out to any person on the street. I had, maybe, ten contacts on my phone.

Daisy was one of the few I responded to.

But, somehow, someway, Fiona had gotten hold of my number and began blowing my phone up with messages. I blocked her the minute I noticed, after a show when I had time to get on my phone. Then, a few days later, she started messaging from a different number.

They were innocent claims- she kept saying I had left things at her flat and needed to come pick them up. But I knew her better than that. She was trying to use this to weasel back into my head, my heart. She’d convince me to come pick everything up and then, when I was there, she’d start crying. Start saying how much she loved and needed me. She’d convince her into her bed, and we’d start spiraling down into that same old waltz we both knew too well.

After I blocked this contact, I guess she evolved. She started using an unknown number, so I couldn’t even block the contact. I called my manager immediately and told him I needed to get a new phone number. Apparently, all the stores around us were closed for a few days, which just so happened to be my fucking luck. But he promised to get something for as soon as possible.

In the meantime, I just had to ignore her.

So, I booked a last-minute therapy appointment.

I glossed over everything with my doctor, telling myself that things with Daisy were hopeless. She obviously thought me to be disposable. I mean, I had watched how quickly she’d pulled away, how quickly she found another empty face in the crowd.

I didn’t want to admit that shameful situation to my doctor. I didn’t want her to know I’d let myself fall again.

Instead, we talked about Fiona, about the temptress knocking on my door. My doctor kept reminding me to, “Stay strong. Know your worth.”

Easy words for someone in a healthy, happy marriage.

All it would take was one more wrong look from Daisy and one wrong text from Fiona, and I’d end up back off the cliff.

So, I clung to the guys. Daisy had been...not so distant but detached. Cautious. She was taking the lead, so I followed. We still hung out, still fucked like we had been doing. Still had these meaningful, deep conversations that made me wonder, over and over, what the fuck was going through her head. But honestly, I now spent some of that extra time with Max, Cy, Adam, or Sam. We were due to begin working on the next album and I had plenty of ideas floating around in my head.

It was peaceful, quaint. Something I’d missed. Maybe I wouldn’t be ready to start dating again if something like this caused me so much stress.

Adam was texting me now, wondering if I wanted to hang out sometime this morning, talk about the album. I told him I’d let him know what time, considering Daisy was in my bed. And Fiona was blowing my phone up like fucking crazy.

The whole situation threw me off. She wasn’t really concerned about it, but made numerous, passive jokes about me having a secret girlfriend. I don’t know if it was because she really, truly wanted me to be exclusive to her, or if it was just something to do with her pride.

Signals were still mixed, even after we’d had a conversation about how committed we were to each other. Part of me wondered if it had just been an act, her agreement to never see anybody else, her admittance that she was, “mine.” If it had just been something brewed from the heat of the moment. But, when I answered the phone, set it back on the nightstand, I swear to God I saw something in her eyes shift, like she had been bothered at the thought of me with someone else.

Or it would be shitty in general if I was seeing someone else.

I weighed telling her, every single, how I felt about her. I don’t know that if I told her I loved her it would change anything. I had all but done so, and she still was unmoving. She still had gone and found that faceless nobody in the crowd.

Today, I felt like maybe I should. Tell her.

As soon as she had left, someone knocked on my door. I didn’t think it was Daisy, considering Sam would be waking up soon and she needed to get back into bed. When I looked through the peephole, Adam was there, staring over his shoulder sort of strangely.

“Hey, dude,” I started as I opened the door, then turned to make my way over to the bed where my book bag was. I reached in for my notebook, continuing, “so, I’ve got a few good ideas rattling around-” probably a few too many about Daisy, “that I wanna show ya.”

He slowly entered the room, shutting the door softly behind him, “Yeah, uh...” he approached me sort of hesitantly, distant confusion in his pupils, “I think we...should talk about something first.” He didn’t seem too sure of himself and the words he was saying were cautious. So, my tone slowed, hardened “What-what’s up?”

He finally met my eye and I felt like a sword had been shoved down my throat, “I just talked to Daisy...out in the hallway.”

I set my book bag down, hands having been frozen around the straps like someone cursed me into the stoic, icy position. All I could think to say was, “Oh.”

Adam nodded half-heartedly, “Yeah. Oh. I... don’t know what to say, really. I knew you guys had been...like, it was obvious. To me and I think Max, at least. Sam is kinda clueless and, he and Ronnie are totally sleeping with each other.”

Well, that was obvious. So obvious that I could have snorted, but I was too focused on the wild realization that everyone basically knew. All of that sneaking around, trying to be secretive- well, it didn’t fucking matter. And it didn’t seem like it really mattered that much.

“Are you gonna, like, scold me or something?’ I sat on the edge of my bed, running a wary hand through my hair.

“No, I’m gonna tell you that you’re fucking stupid.”

“What?” I looked up from the ground, shock widening my eyes.

Adam finally softened his expression and chortled, though it was short before he was in on me again, “You’re stupid, Ollie. I don’t think you’re doing it on purpose. I think you’re just...Fiona fucked you up. And I’ve watched you slowly start to heal over these past few months. Daisy has everything to do with that. And...she fucking loves you, dude. She thinks the world of you. And you’ve both, I guess, been dancing this dance with each other, walking around the whole thing. I just told her, like- stop thinking less of yourselves. You both deserve something good. You’re both worthy of each other. So, stop being fucking stupid and just tell her.”

My face was hot. I clenched my hands together, knuckles turning white as all these rampant, loose feelings released in my chest, in my head. “She doesn’t love me.” Adam chuckled again, “That’s a bold fucking statement. She just told me herself how much she adores me.”

“Well, yeah, she likes me, that’s obvious,” I waved him off, “she wouldn’t be sleeping with me if she didn’t. But...I think I’ve made it clear so many times how much I want her. And she, just, doesn’t care. Or she turns away.”

“She’s scared!” Adam exclaimed, making me flinch just slightly. “Sorry,” he spoke quieter, like he had shocked himself with his tone of voice. “She’s scared, Ollie. She’s...she doesn’t know who she is. That’s why she came here. That’s why she pulls away, why she seems unsure.”

“Well, I know that,” I scoffed, “I know her better than anyone. You haven’t seen the way she...how she denies it. I know she denies it. She denies us- me.”

“Okay, tell me,” Adam nearly popped a hip at this, a sassy tone overtaking his authoritative one. “Tell me how she denies, what she says and does that makes you think she doesn’t want you. Tell me that she doesn’t love you.”

I thought, long and hard. I could've mentioned the very recent time when she had been dancing with another guy, at our concert, a prowling look in her eyes. Or, of the time when I was on the brink of telling her how I felt, then she pulled away. Or-

Wait.

Am I fucking stupid?

I’m so fucking stupid. I am the dumbest, stupidest idiotic idiot to have ever existed.

It was all right there, clearing up now like I was wearing new glasses. I had a new perspective- I had an unbiased, outsider’s view of the world I had been suffocating in. And Adam’s view was- a breath of fresh air.

I was so obviously the one turning away from her.

From the beginning, I’d been denying her, us, for fear that she wouldn’t want me that way. For fear that someone would find out, for fear that I might die if she ever looked away from me. And I’ve been covering it up with the excuse that I was broken, or hurting, or-or...worthless.

I knew differently. I’d known it differently for a while now but had been unable to act upon this rationality. I was too emotional, too, in my head. And that made me seem manipulative, and asshole-ish, and- fucking stupid.

Adam watched me carefully, watched me as I processed these past few months. My eyes were narrowed, confused, though they widened as the information unfolded in my mind, as the notches clicked together.

“You’re…right.”

Instead of worrying myself with the evidence that she, too, was afraid, I felt my head flood with memories, as tangent on my skin as the cool air of my hotel room. Memories of her devotion, her promise, her love. Memories of us in the stale morning, sharing stories of her mother and that little apartment back in America. Memories of us on the roof, atop the world, atop the feeling, a private sanctuary where even just the flash of her eyes should have told me everything that I needed to know. I was going to tell her I felt the same. I was going to pull her up to the roof, one of our most sacred secrets, and pour everything out onto the barren concrete between us. And I knew she would say that she loved me, too.

It was delicate and I would have to handle it as such. Any sudden movement, and we’d be falling apart, all over again.

But, then Max was bombarding my hotel room, spewing some nonsense about Daisy and Ronnie getting tattoos. He was dragging us to Sam’s hotel room. I was practicing the lines in my head, over and over, a prayer.

Daisy was looking at me with these doe-innocent eyes, like she, too, was praying to some old god. Altering herself for a breath that he may resurrect what was dying between us even now.

I found more words, new words- lyrics, pummeling my skull in wondrous discovery. It was right there- everything was- My phone wouldn’t fucking stop ringing and I thought that I might explode into atoms. I ignored the call, watching as Daisy’s face fell each and every time that it did. She well and truly thought that I was seeing someone else.

Enough was enough.

I took a step towards her, fully intent on putting a rest to the strangeness and awakening what was already there. But, then my phone rang again.

And Sam began making some joke about Fiona calling me, a knowing, devious smirk on his features. He didn’t know- how could he know? I couldn’t be upset with him, but I wanted to strangle him into the carpet.

But I couldn’t focus on that anger for too long-

Because Daisy was leaving like we both always left, one too many times, in one too many silent glares of this something that we just may never get right.

The delicate threads of us bent and snapped.

[decentishoutsidersthoughts]

do you have any headcanons for the gang's reaction to each of them getting their first dates?

like high school darry and his gaggle of younger friends being all up in his business or omg the first time ponyboy has a date I just know that poor boy is gonna have a red face from all the teasing and talks he gets

I love this it’s so funny, enjoy

Darry

I hc that his first date was a girl on the cheerleading team. He didn’t rly like her very much but he was a sophomore in high school so he thought he did of course.

He was the first one to get a serious girlfriend. Soda Steve and Two-Bit, who had just gotten old enough to care about girls idolized him even more than they previously had. Soda would come into Darry’s room and sit on his bed and ask him all sorts of questions because he just wanted to know.

Darry for a few weeks kind of had that thing where he got a girlfriend and forgot he had friends, so Two-Bit was understandably salty about that but Darry got over it fast and after that Two-Bit just teased him a lot

Dally did not give two shits. He saw Darry getting a cheerleader girlfriend as more of him straying from the gang. If he was still showing up to school he was side eyeing them in the hallways 24/7

Johnny was too scared of girls to be really jealous, but he was also a little curious. But he pretended to be apathetic to it cause Ponyboy was a HATER. In his mind this random cheerleader was making Darry spend even less time at home than he normally did and he was pissed. Also he’s like 9 and probably still thinks girls have cooties 💀

Soda

His first real girlfriend was freshman year. I’m of the firm belief that he has TERRIBLE taste in women and this was the first time it really showed

Darry and Two-Bit both didn’t like Soda’s girlfriend and they’d talk a lot of shit about it. But Darry was letting Sofa handle himself and hoping be would EVENTUALLY stop letting his girlfriend treat him bad and then go find a nice girl. Neither of those rly happened-

Steve hated Soda’s girlfriend with a PASSION. It was the only time him and Ponyboy got along because their hatred was so visceral it brought them together. Steve was lowkey mostly just jealous but it helped that she was mean as hell

Dally and Johnny weren’t THAT involved. Both of them stopped showing up to school by then and it wasn’t a shock that Soda had a girlfriend nor that it was a…weird relationship. Dally was surprised that Soda didn’t rly end up having commitment issues tho

Ponyboy

I feel so bad for this man when he gets a girlfriend. I’ve seen a lot of people say that Darry would be insanely strict about him dating. I don’t think so, he has bigger battles. Especially post canon when he’s trying to give Ponyboy the same amount of freedom he and Soda enjoyed when they were his age. (Possibly even more because let’s be real Ponyboy is the good quiet kid of that family-)

However that doesn’t save him from teasing. Two-Bit is the worst ofc (and Dally if we count them as alive but for the sake of this we won’t). Steve also participates but he’s kind of just an asshole. He tried to purposely give Ponyboy bad advice but then Soda yelled at him so he stopped 🧍‍♀️

Speaking of Soda this man was giving all sorts of unsolicited advice. Ponyboy pretends to listen but in his head he’s like ‘every single relationship you’ve been in with a girl has ended horrendously-‘. He listens to Soda's advice when it comes to flirting and getting girls to like him, but he just asks Darry for advice with the actual relationship stuff 

Johnny

Let’s pretend he’s alive for a minute. His first relationship is the only one that doesn’t crash and burn within 6 months. The gang is honestly flabbergasted that he’s pulling better than the rest of them 😭😭😭😭

Tbh they’re all rly wary at first. Especially Dally and Soda (Dally cause he’s Dally and Soda cause he’s still a lil sore from Sandy). The only one not rly freaked out is Ponyboy

Ponyboy either loves Johnny’s girlfriend or hates her. No in between. They’re either besties or he preys on her downfall. He third wheels them everywhere regardless tho. He’s like their practice kid.

Dally and Steve definitely threatened her 💀

Darry’s also wary but once again he has other things to worry about. He does keep track of their relationship tho so he’ll be ready to do damage control if they break up (he does that with everyone but he does it more with Johnny cause he knows from experience the longer the relationship lasts the worse the breakup is)

I don’t have many thoughts on the other three ngl. I think the gang is kinda just like ‘that happened’. Other than Soda being a massive hype man for Steve (until he gets jealous tee hee)

[witchyleehibernates]

Hiya!! I was looking at your au list and saw one about Ponyboy being younger than he is in the canon, and I’m REALLY interested in that!

I just wanted to know, how do you think that would change the way the gang, his brothers would see him? Like how would that change their dynamics?

Also how much younger would he be?

I hope you don’t mind me asking, I just love this au idea and I’m real interested! (Btw I read some of the other aus you’ve made and OMG you’re so amazing! I love them 🩵)

Yess!!!! My inbox is open for a reason! for all AUs! and questions! and headcanons!

I sort of imagine that Ponyboy is about 4 years younger than in canon, and he's a little clingy to his brothers. Especially Darry, though he is often found at Sodapop's side on darker or harder to handle days.

The gang would absolutely be more protective and worried about Ponyboy whenever he is by himself, and he's obviously not in highschool he's more late elementary school / early middle school.

Johnny is more 'big brother' to Ponyboy than canon (it's more emphasized), and he lets Ponyboy talk about all these books and movies, and the sunsets even more than in canon (Ponyboy still gets jumped, and Johnny freaks the fuck out a little bit more).

He's a little more childish, he lashes out a bit more when things don't make sense, and he absolutely doens't like Steve but more of a "why do you keep taking my brother from me" dislike rather than a genuine beefing with the other that Ponyboy hints at in canon. Steve also cannot bring himself to dislike that Ponyboy is so clingy with Sodapop, because he knows about Ponyboy's nightmares.

Which! Ponyboy's nightmares are a worse than canon. He'll have nights he wakes up screaming, and nights that he wakes up and just... stares. He'll space out and he will absolutely not respond no matter what is happening around him, but he is sitting up and breathing, and it's obvious he can hear you, he's just not responding. It's also obvious whenever he's had a night of nightmares (anywhere between 1 to 3 a night), because he'll be really quiet and sleepy the day after. (He also clings to Darry more, and he genuinely cries whenever Sodapop has to go to work.

Dally isn't as 'cold' or 'mean' to Ponyboy, but he still intimidates Ponyboy with out he interacts with others. Ponyboy gets more Johnny treatment than in canon! That's how I think about it, where Ponyboy could say just about anything and Dally wouldn't care, and Dally gets Ponyboy little things that he thinks Pony will like!

Two-Bit likes to watch Ponyboy on days where he decides to skip (Darry doens't like it but he also does because it means Ponyboy isn't home alone on days he's out of school or sick), and they like to play a whole bunch of games and they go out and 'cause mischief' (they go to the park and have fun and they go and buy art supplies because Pony still adores art, and they like to go hiking, which Darry doesn't know about the hiking).

This... got a little long, but if anyone wants to know more please please ask questions!! I love thinking about this au!!

[steifel]

Ok so i've been thinking about the what ifs from the outsiders and the biggest one i've been thinking about (that i haven't seen very many people talk about) is what if the kid was Soda's?....

So anyways here are some head canons about that.

First off you cannot convince me this boy was not secretly a little stoked

I mean obviously he was scared since its quite literally the worst time possible, him and Sandy are only 16, him and Darry are already struggling to make ends meet, etc, etc, etc

However he wants like 12 kids so he is super excited

Soda is definitely terrified to tell Darry

He tries and falls to tell him multiple times

"Hay Darel can i talk to you for a second i got something i really need to tell you" Darry looks up "yeah im all ears go ahead" Soda runs away screaming "nevermind its not important" *insert Darry rolling his eyes and going back to whatever he was doing"

When he finally does get the balls to tell Darry he cant stand to look is brother in the eyes

"Sandy's pregnant" soda finally got the words out looking up at his big brother whos strong hands grabbed his shoulder. "Soda this isn't funny don't joke like that" a silent tear fell down Soda's face as he saw the look on Darry's "I an't joking Darry... Im being serious" more tears start coming from both of the boys as Darry pulls his brother into a tight hug "its gonna be ok Soda im still here it's gonna be ok"

Once they all got used to the idea the whole gang was super supportive

Two bit would be so stoked to be an uncle

"Wont it be great ill be uncle Keith" the whole gang stops and dally stairs into Twobits soul "fuck you mean uncle Keith? Your gonna be goddamn uncle Twobit"

The first thing Soda wants to do when he finds out is tell Ponyboy

This makes the week the boys were gone even harder

When he did finally get the chance to tell Ponyboy he was legitimately so excited

Like imagine them sitting in the hospital pony laying on Sodas lap

"Hay Pony i know you got a hell of a lot on your mind but i got something to tell you" "hmm" the younger boy hummed the only clue that he was still awake "your gonna be an uncle" Ponyboy shot up almost hitting Soda in the face "you mean..." Soda nodded "sandys pregnant im gonna be a dad" Ponyboy pulled Soda into an exited hug "can i name him?" Pony looked at his confused brother "its only fair seeing how you named me when you were 3 fucking years old" Darry started laughing louder than he had in weeks "come on Soda its only fair"

He never got the chance to tell Johnny and that fact will haunt him for the rest of his life

Once he finally feels like Pony is gonna be ok he spends every waking moment with Sandy

Hand on the belly 100% of the time

He is definitely the type of guy to talk to his kid in udero

Random shit too

"So anyway the wendsheald wiper was not coming off so Steve stepped on the hood of the car and put his whole weight into it and..." Sandy looked down at him smiling "you know most dads to be talk to their kids about how much they love them and your telling your future kid about some dumb shit you and Steve got up too" Soda scoffed faking offence " yeah its a funny story besides this kid needs to know what he's getting himself into being born into my gang"

He for sure tried to sneak a peak when Sandy was giving birth and he definitely passed out

Soda is CONVINCED its gonna be a boy

When the doctor announces"its a girl" he is legitimately confused

"What do you mean its a girl? Like he doesn't have a dick?"

Once he gets used to the fact that he has a daughter he is so Goddamn proud of her

He cries the first time he holds his daughter

Its literally adorable he'll be sitting there talking to her

"Hi little lady im your dad Sodapop and i love you so so so so much"

When he gets to show her off to the gang his smile is a mile wide

"Hi guys i want you to meet the newest member of the Curtis family" Soda said smiling as he showed his new daughter to all of his friends "she looks like a babydoll" Steve said softly as he reached for her little hand "hay thats a damn good name Babydoll" pony exclaims as he reaches out to hold his niece

AN: thanks for reading and allowing me to share some thoughts from the craziness that is my brain. As always i am so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes i am just hella dislexic

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

having to take a younger sibling trick-ortreating and dragging dallas along (hc's)

A/N: I absolutely loved this prompt, thank you so much for sending it in, really scratched an itch in my brain that I didn't know needed scratching. Hope you enjoy!

Halloween nights and Dal’s walking around with you and your kid sibling instead of being at the big Halloween party at Buck’s place

Originally, the two of you were supposed to be at the party, but when your parents asked you to go with your little sibling, you couldn’t exactly tell them no-

And when you asked Dally to join the two of you…well he couldn’t quite find it in himself to say no either

So that’s how the infamous Dallas Winston ended up trailing along behind you and your sibling on Halloween night instead of being drunk off his ass at Buck’s big party

He’s happy to be with you, don’t get me wrong, and he’ll get better as the night rolls on, but at the beginning, he’ll definitely whine and complain about how he’d rather be at the party

Calmly tell him that you really don’t need him and are perfectly capable of walking both yourself and your small sibling through the dark streets on one of the most dangerous nights of the year and that’ll shut him up real fast, I promise you

Now! Onto the cute stuff!

Unless your sibling is small, I’m talking younger than like- five years old- Dally will refuse to walk up with them to the door

Anything over six, you’re gonna have to be the one who walks your younger sibling up to the houses while Dally waits back on the sidewalk, looking bored beyond all belief as he keeps an eye on the two of you

If your sibling is below five though, below five is an age that Dally believes deserves a little more hand-holding and he’ll be more than willing to go up to the door with your kid sibling

Granted, this kindness will have to be earned and Dal’s gotta have a good relationship with your kid sibling, enough of a bond between them that Dal’s willing to hold their hand as the two of them walk up to the door

Try imagining for a moment, Dally quietly murmuring to your kid sibling that they have to say trick-or-treat because they’ve forgotten what to do and are being shy and trying to hide in his leg

Try and tell me that’s not cute.

You can’t.

It’s the cutest thing I’ve thought of all day long.

As the night wears on, your kid sibling is bound to get tired, especially if they’re smaller cause Halloween involves a lot of walking and kids get tired fast, especially if they’ve got tiny legs

Dally, if he’s feeling overly generous, will pick up and carry your small sibling if they’re young enough to do so, or will carry their candy bag on the way home

Carrying the candy bag comes with a price, Dal’s gonna take some of the candy, and he’ll eat what he wants (he’s not gonna steal that much though, he’s not that much of an asshole to steal a kid's candy, especially not when it's your kid sibling's) 

At some point in the night too, I forgot to mention this earlier, but he’ll grab your hand as you walk the sidewalks, or he’ll throw his arm around your shoulders to keep you close to his side

If you ask what he’s doing, he’ll look away from you and mutter something about kids being stupid on Halloween and how he’s just trying to protect you from the idiots 

Also! If you’ve got a tiny sibling, Dally will crouch down and compliment their costume before you start trick-or-treating, saying how he thinks they look tough or cute or whatever

If you’ve got an older younger sibling, that sounds weird but you know what I mean, he’ll be a little more teasing and ask if they’re too old to be trick-or-treating or dressing up and generally be a nuisance because he knows your sibling can handle it

A few more random things before I wrap this up:

When you’re crossing the streets, he’ll grab both of your hands and walk across because he’s gotta set a good example for the kid, ya know? Holding your hand just comes as a benefit-

He will refuse to dress up no matter if you’re dressing up or not, Dallas will not dress up at all and will just walk around with you and your sibling in his regular clothes

If the houses have candy that sucks, Dally tells your kid sibling that they can come back later and TP the house if your kid sibling wants to

I highly recommend smacking him in the side in these instances because he’s being serious and will actually do it. Don’t let him do it

And ya know…at the end of the night…when he drops you and your younger sibling back at home, he sheepishly admits that he did have a good time with the two of you, probably a better time than he would have at the party and offers to join the two of you again next year

Reward him with a big kiss and a bunch of Halloween candy, it’s only the right thing to do <3

[thewulf]

Sunflowers and Second Chances || Darrel "Darry" Curtis

Summary: Request - Can you do a Darry x Winston sister reader? Maybe she's Dallas's twin or like a year younger and he's just super protective over her. I was thinking maybe the two of them show up for a bonfire at the park with some greasers and reader forgets her jacket. She's shivering by the fire and Darry (ever the gentleman) gives her his jacket.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Def went overboard but mannnn do i LOVE writing for The Outsiders. This will NEVERR be a dead fandom for as long as I am alive hahaha. please keep sending these my way! I'd love to try a Sodapop or even Ponyboy :) Enjoy!

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k +

TW: General The Outsiders

It wasn’t that cold when you and Dallas left your shared apartment for the evening. After nagging and bothering you for what felt like hours Dallas had finally won, he was getting you to go to the annual start of summer bonfire. A tried-and-true greaser tradition. It wasn’t really your scene, most of the time. But at the mention that Darrel Curtis was going to be there you’d changed your tune rather quickly. Dallas knew of your little crush on the eldest Curtis brother. Because of course he did. He wasn’t dumb. Quite the opposite really. He caught your longing glances for Darry pretty early on. Your cute crush only got slightly concerning for Dally when he started noticing Darry throwing the same looks your way.

Dallas might’ve used Darry as the excuse to get you out of the house. See, Dallas had never taken school seriously, but you always have. He was worried you were spending far too much of your limited time studying or doing homework instead of being an actual teenager.

As you and Dallas strolled through the dimly lit streets toward the outskirts of town where the bonfire was blazing, you couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement that ripped through your body. Dallas, your favorite charismatic troublemaker, seemed to sense your nerves and threw an arm around your shoulder, giving you a rough but reassuring squeeze.

"So, kid sister, what's got you all wound up tonight, huh?" Dallas smirked. His eyes gleaming mischievously in the faint glow of the streetlights.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just looking forward to hanging out with the guys, I guess. Haven’t seen them in a while is all."

Dallas shot you a knowing look, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "Uh-huh, the guys sure thing. Are you sure it’s not one guy? Don't think I haven't noticed those puppy-dog eyes you've been throwing at Darry lately." He had a habit of calling you out on your bullshit, even if it made you uncomfortable.

Your cheeks flushed at that comment. You stuttered in protest, but Dallas just laughed, his voice rumbling with amusement. "Relax, kid, ain't no crime in having a crush. But who knows, maybe tonight's the night you finally make a move." He winked knowing that was a load of crap. You’d never make a move on Darry, wouldn’t even dream of it. In his eyes you were Dallas’ baby sister. He could never see you like that.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that bubbled in your chest at the mere thought of it. Darrel Curtis was everything you found attractive in a man - strong, dependable, and with a heart of gold hidden beneath his tough exterior. The idea that he might feel even a fraction of what you felt for him sent your pulse racing. But you knew better, knew better than to get your hopes up.

The two of you approached the bonfire, the familiar sight of your friends greeted you. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the sound of laughter, with the occasional burst of music from someone's battered radio. It felt like home. You and Dallas had finally found it after years of moving and running.

Dallas led you through the throngs of people, his boisterous laughter mingling with the chatter of the others. Until you finally caught sight of Darry standing by himself next to the fire. His gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a few beats. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling acutely aware of every movement, every breath. Dallas nudged you playfully with his elbow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he gave you a not-so-subtle wink before sauntering off to join the other greasers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you squared your shoulders and made your way over to where Darry stood, his eyes never leaving yours. And as you drew closer, the crackle of the fire seemed to fade away, leaving only the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears, “Hi.” You smiled up at him once you got within ear shot.

He smiled right back at you. His annoyed face melted away once you got close. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. What a treat.” He smirked loving the little game the two of you shared when it was just the two of you. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had developed a not so innocent crush on you. Dallas Winston’s little sister. Probably the worst girl to have a crush on. But how could he not? You stepped up and helped him in ways he could’ve never imagined after his parents passed. You pulled Pony and Soda along right with you instead of letting them drown in grief. You were an angel. His angel.

Despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn’t shake off the chill that seeped into your bones. You cursed yourself for forgetting your jacket, but with the comforting heat of the fire so close, you hadn't noticed the cold until now. Darry glanced down at you once you were standing next to him, sensing your discomfort. "Are ya’ cold, Y/N?"

You nodded, teeth chattering slightly. "Yeah, just a bit."

Without a word, Darry shrugged off the leather jacket he had on. "Here," he said, draping it over your shoulders. "You shouldn't be freezing out here." While it fit him it was about three sizes too large for you. Not that you minded.

You blinked in surprise as Darry's jacket enveloped you, radiating warmth and carrying his distinct scent. Grateful, you offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Darry."

He nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Anytime, Y/N. Don't want you catching a cold."

As the night wore on, you huddled closer to the fire, Darry's jacket shielding you from the biting cold. Despite the flames eventually dying down and the group dispersing, the memory of Darry's protective gesture lingered, a comforting presence in the darkness of the night.

In the dim light, you caught Darry's eye and offered him a silent expression of gratitude. He returned it with a nod, silently promising to always look out for you. Feeling a warmth not just from the jacket but also from his concern, you find yourself drawn to him. "Thanks again, Darry. Dallas rushed me out of the apartment. You know I’m not usually so forgetful." you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of flirtation you can't quite suppress.

Darry's lips quirk up in a half-smile, his eyes holding a glint of amusement. "No problem, Y/N," he replies, his voice low and gravelly. "I’m sure it’s not easy being Dally’s sister."

You chuckle at his teasing tone, enjoying the banter that flowed so effortless between the two of you. "You could say that again. Guess I owe you one though," you say playfully, nudging him with your elbow.

Darry's smile widens, and he leans in a little closer, the warmth of his presence sending a shiver down your spine for an entirely different reason. "Oh, I'll be sure to collect on that debt," he murmurs, his gaze intense yet tender.

Your heart nearly stops at his words, and you find yourself blushing despite the chill in the air. Maybe forgetting your jacket wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Just as you're about to respond to Darry's playful banter, a familiar voice interrupted you from behind. "Well, well, what do we have here? Little sis all blushy-cheeked and heart eyes on our very own Darrel Curtis?" Dallas's voice carries a teasing edge, his smirk evident even in the dim light. He knew how much you not so secretly liked the oldest Curtis brother. You may not have said anything to him, but it was evident in the way you looked at him. Dallas knew eyes couldn’t hide much. That’s how he also knew the oldest Curtis brother felt the same about you. So, he did what any older brother would do, tease the shit out of the both of you.

You turn to see Dallas walking over, his usual cocky demeanor in full force. But something about the way he looks at you, a mixture of amusement and something else you can't quite place, makes you more nervous than ever. Darry stiffens slightly beside you, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. His jaw clenches, and you notice a subtle tension in his shoulders.

"Easy there, Darry," Dallas continues, his grin widening. "I'm just messing with my kid sister. No need to get all uptight Curtis." He had a full-on grin now not realizing the damage he was causing between the blooming relationship that had yet to begin.

You shoot Dallas a playful glare, hoping to diffuse the situation. "Ignore him, Darry. He's just being annoying, as usual." You turned back to the man standing beside you, closer than you remember from just moments ago.

But Darry's gaze remains fixed on Dallas, a silent warning in his eyes. "Nothing’s happened Dallas.” The joyful tone in his voice from moments ago had vanished sending you into a minor panic as the two most important men in your life stood there staring at each other.

Dallas raises his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering ever so slightly. "Alright, alright, no need to get all serious," he says, taking a step back. "I'll leave you two alone. Doing whatever you were doing.”

As Dallas walks away, you feel a pang of disappointment wash over you knowing that something was suddenly amiss. You glance at Darry, hoping to see his usual warmth and playfulness, but instead, you find him distant, his gaze fixed on the ground. He was thinking and thinking hard at that.

"Hey, everything okay?" you ask, reaching out to touch his arm.

When he pulled away from you sharply you tried to hide the disappointment evident in your gaze on him. Darry looks up, his expression guarded. "I’m sorry. I just... I can't do this. Not with Dallas being your brother," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart sank as Darry's words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between the two of you. But now, faced with his rejection, you felt a wave of embarrassment and hurt wash over you. You tried to hide the sting of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, forcing a weak smile as you withdrew his jacket from your shoulders. "I understand," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. "It's okay, Darry. I-I didn't mean to make things awkward." You handed him the too big leather jacket back. You didn’t miss the disappointed look in his eyes as he took it back from you.

But before Darry could respond, you turned on your heel and began to walk away, the weight of his rejection heavy on your shoulders. You could feel the eyes of the other greasers on you as you made your way through the crowd, their whispers echoing in your ears like a cruel reminder of your own vulnerability.  You were halfway down the street when you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Startled, you turned to find Dallas standing there, his expression unusually serious. "Y/N, wait," he said, his voice soft yet urgent. "What happened back there?"

You tried to brush off his concern, plastering on a fake smile. "It's nothing, Dallas. Just a misunderstanding, that's all."

But Dallas wasn't buying it, his gaze piercing through your facade. "Bullshit," he said bluntly. "I saw the way Darry was looking at you. And I saw the way you looked at him." He grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes once again, unable to hold them back any longer. The floodgates opened, and all the pent-up emotions came pouring out, overwhelming you with their intensity. Dallas's grip on your arm softened, his expression shifting from skepticism to concern as he watched the tears stream down your cheeks.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked gently, his voice laced with worry. “What happened?"

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself enough to speak. "It's Darry," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "He doesn’t want me because... because he's worried about what you'll think or something."

Dallas's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You swallowed hard, mustering the courage to explain. "I don’t know. It was fine then it wasn’t," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You were teasing us, and he... he thinks you don't approve. I don’t know Dallas he didn’t give me a reason. Just said he couldn’t do it."

Dallas's eyes widened in realization, a mixture of guilt and frustration flashing across his features. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was just messing around, you know?"

You nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for Dallas's distress. "I know, Dallas," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "But sometimes things don't turn out the way we expect them to."

Dallas's shoulders sagged as he let out a heavy sigh, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he said sincerely, his voice thick with remorse. "I never meant to hurt you or Darry. You know that, right?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you fought to hold back the tears threatening to keep spilling from your eyes. "I know, Dal," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Without hesitation, Dallas pulled you into a comforting brotherly hug, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. You felt a sense of warmth and security wash over you, knowing that no matter what happened, you had Dallas by your side, always ready to support you through thick and thin.As you leaned into his embrace, Dallas's protective instincts kicked in, his mind buzzing with thoughts of how to fix the situation. But before he could voice his intentions, you pulled away slightly, a pleading look in your eyes.

"Dallas, please," you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "Don't do anything rash. I don't want things to get any more complicated than they already are."

Dallas's expression softened as he registered your plea, his gaze filled with concern. "I just can't stand the thought of Darry hurting you like this," he admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "He's being so damn thick-headed, and it makes me want to sock him one right in the jaw."

You shook your head, a firmness in your voice. "No, Dallas, no fighting with your brothers," you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll figure this out without anyone throwing punches. Let's just leave it be for now, okay? I don't want anything to happen when everyone is emotional."

Dallas hesitated, his jaw tense with the effort of restraining himself. But as he looked into your eyes, seeing the conviction in them, he relented. "Alright, Y/N," he conceded, his voice quieter now, but still edged with frustration. "We'll do it your way. But I swear, if he keeps hurting you, I won't be able to hold back."

You gave him a grateful smile, appreciating his loyalty but relieved that he agreed to your terms. "Thank you, Dallas," you said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "For respecting my wishes."

Dallas nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Always, kid," he replied, his voice softening with affection. "Now, let's go inside and take a breather. We'll figure out our next move when we're all thinking straight."

As you followed Dallas into the apartment, a sense of relief washed over you, grateful for his support and understanding. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you couldn't fight the urge to collapse onto the couch, the events of the evening catching up with you all at once.

Dallas lingered nearby for a moment, watching over you with a protective gaze. He hesitated, torn between staying by your side and his burning desire to confront Darry. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, he made his decision.

Quietly, Dallas slipped out of the apartment once you were fast asleep on the couch, leaving you to rest, and made his way towards the Curtis house. Determination fueled his steps as he navigated the dimly lit streets, his mind focused on one goal: to talk some sense into Darry.

When he finally reached the Curtis house, he didn't bother with niceties. Instead, he pounded on the door with a forceful urgency, his knuckles rapping against the wood in a demanding rhythm. Soda was the one to answer the door, his expression shifting from surprise to concern as he took in Dallas's agitated demeanor. "Dallas? What's going on, man?"

But Dallas didn't waste any time with explanations. Without a word, he brushed past Soda, his eyes scanning the living room in search of Darry. He didn't care about being polite or waiting for an invitation. All he cared about was finding the one who made his sister cry. Soda called after him, his voice tinged with confusion and concern, but Dallas paid him no mind. His focus was singular, his determination unwavering as he sought out Darry, ready to have a long-overdue conversation that would hopefully set things right.

Dallas's footsteps echoed loudly as he made his way towards the backyard, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and concern. He found Darry leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, while Ponyboy sat nearby, a troubled expression on his face. Without preamble, Dallas stormed over to Darry, his eyes blazing with intensity. "What the hell is wrong with you, Darry?" he demanded, his voice thick with emotion. "You made my sister cry, and for what? Because you're too damn stubborn to see what's right in front of you?"

Darry looked up, startled by Dallas's sudden outburst. "Dallas, what are you talking about?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Ponyboy, sensing the tension in the air, glanced nervously between his older brother and what felt like his second one. "Guys, what's going on?" he asked tentatively, his brow furrowing with concern.

"What's going on is that Darry's being a complete idiot," Dallas snapped, his frustration boiling over. "He's too blind to see that Y/N cares about him, and he's pushing her away because of it."

Darry's expression softened, his defenses crumbling under Dallas's relentless barrage. "Dallas, it's not that simple," he protested weakly, but Dallas wasn't having any of it.

"Not that simple?" Dallas echoed incredulously, his voice rising with every word. "You think you're doing her a favor by pushing her away? You're just hurting her, Darry. And you're too damn stubborn to see it."

Ponyboy watched the exchange in silence, his eyes darting between the two brothers with a mixture of concern and apprehension. He knew better than to intervene when Dallas was in one of his moods. Finally, Darry let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I didn't mean to hurt her, Dallas," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with regret. "I just... I don't know how to do this. I'm not good at this stuff."

Soda, who had been observing from the doorway, stepped forward with a smirk playing on his lips. "You got that right, Darry," he interjected, his tone teasing. "You're allergic to pretty girls."

Ponyboy couldn't help but chuckle at Soda's remark, a small smile breaking through the tension that hung in the air. Darry sighed, shaking his head at Soda's comment, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Thanks for the reminder, Soda," he said wryly, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. "But I guess I'll just have to figure it out."

Dallas leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips as he listened to Ponyboy's words. "Yeah, she's got a heart of literal gold, man," he chimed in, nodding in agreement. "I've seen it. She's too kind for this world sometimes."

Ponyboy nodded fervently, his eyes reflecting admiration. "Absolutely. Remember that time when she stood up for Johnny when those guys were picking on him? She didn't even hesitate. Just marched right over there and gave them a piece of her mind."

Soda grinned, his eyes sparkling with fondness. "And she's always nice to everyone, even those stuck-up Socs who don't deserve it," he added, his voice full of admiration.

Darry sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't help but smile at his brothers' words, despite himself. "Yeah, she's something else, that's for sure," he mused, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. "But sometimes, I worry she's too good for her own good."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment before Soda broke it with a chuckle. "Well, Darry, you might just have to deal with it," he teased, nudging his brother playfully. "After all, love's got its own way of figuring things out."

Darry rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Yeah, you're right Soda," he conceded, his gaze drifting off into the distance as he thought about you. "I just hope I can keep up."

The brothers shared a knowing look, a silent understanding passing between them as they contemplated the impact you had made on their lives. Dallas leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "You know, Darry, you gotta give yourself some credit too," he said, his voice carrying a rare sincerity. "She sees something in you, man. She wouldn't stick around if she didn't believe in you."

Darry shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I know, Dallas, but... I've messed up so many times," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I've let her down more times than I can count."

Ponyboy reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Darry's shoulder. "Hey, we all make mistakes," he said softly, his eyes filled with empathy. "But what matters is how you learn from them."

Soda nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "You gotta show her, Darry," he chimed in, his voice firm. "You gotta show her that you're willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

Darry sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know," he muttered, his voice heavy with guilt. "I just... I don't know if I'm capable of being the person she deserves."

Dallas shook his head, his eyes locking with Darry's. "You are, man," he insisted, his tone unwavering. "But you gotta start believing it yourself. You gotta start believing that you're worthy of her love."

The room fell into a contemplative silence as Darry let Dallas' words sink in. And as he sat there, surrounded by his brothers, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring deep within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make things right with you. Maybe there was still a chance for them after all.

Dallas let out a gruff laugh, a hint of his usual tough demeanor creeping back into his expression. "Alright, enough of this mushy crap," he declared, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. "I swear to God, if this gets back to her or you say some soft shit, I'll kick all your asses."

Ponyboy chuckled nervously, shooting a glance at Soda and Darry. "Got it, Dallas," he replied, trying to suppress a grin.

Soda raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, no worries, man," he said with a smirk. "Our lips are sealed."

Darry nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Dallas," he said sincerely, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

Dallas gave them all a nod before pushing himself off the wall. "Alright, I’m out out of here before I start feeling like I need to hug it out or something," he quipped, striding towards the door with his usual gate. He hoped you had stayed sleeping on the couch as he made his way back to your shared apartment.

The next day, Darry found himself restless, pacing back and forth in his room as he wrestled with his overwhelming sense of guilt. Every step he took felt heavy, burdened by the weight of regret that had settled like a stone in his chest. He knew he had hurt you deeply, and the thought churned his stomach with unease. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, Darry couldn't shake off the nervous fluttering in his chest as he clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly in his hand.

Darry found himself seized by a sudden determination to make things right with you. He knew that a simple apology wouldn't be enough – he needed to show her just how much she meant to him. And that's when he remembered the little details about her that he cherished.

With a sense of purpose driving him forward, Darry made his way to a nearby flower shop. The bustling streets seemed to blur around him as he searched for the perfect bouquet, his mind focused solely on one thing: your beautiful smile that brightened his day. He rifled through the colorful array of blooms, his heart racing with anticipation as he sought out the flowers that would convey his heartfelt apology and adoration.

And then, amidst the vibrant sea of petals, he found them – sunflowers. They stood tall and proud, their golden faces turned towards the sun, just like Y/N's radiant spirit. Darry's heart swelled with certainty as he reached out to carefully select the most beautiful blooms, knowing that they would bring a ray of sunshine to your day.

But as he stood at the checkout counter, a sudden doubt crept into his mind. How did he know that sunflowers were her favorite? Had she ever mentioned it to him before, in passing? Or was it just a gut feeling, a subconscious knowledge born from the countless hours they had spent together? For a moment, Darry hesitated, his brow furrowing in uncertainty. But then he remembered the way your eyes had lit up the last time you had passed a house that was growing them, how you had exclaimed with delight at the sight. And in that moment, he knew – sunflowers were your favorite, and he was determined to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

As he made his way to your apartment, each footfall echoed with the rhythm of his racing heart. The short journey felt like an eternity, his mind filled with worry and doubt. What if you were still upset with him? What if you didn't want to see him? The uncertainty gnawed at him, threatening to consume him with fear. He couldn't bear the thought of facing your disappointment, knowing that he was the cause of your pain.

With trembling hands, Darry finally reached your doorstep. He took a moment to steady his nerves, drawing in a deep breath to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. But no amount of preparation could ease the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he raised his hand to knock on the door. Each rap of his knuckles felt like a thunderclap, reverberating through the silence of the neighborhood, and echoing the tumultuous turmoil in his own heart.

For a fleeting moment, Darry hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly in the air. He couldn't help but worry that you would be furious with him, that you would turn him away without a second thought. The thought made his pulse quicken with apprehension, his palms growing slick with sweat as he grappled with his fear of rejection. But deep down, he knew he couldn't let his fear hold him back. He had to face you, to confront the consequences of his actions and make amends for the pain he had caused. With a silent prayer on his lips, Darry squared his shoulders and knocked once more, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.

As the door swung open, revealing your surprised expression, Darry felt his heart almost stop. He could see the shock flicker across your features as you took in the sight of him standing there, a bouquet of sunflowers clutched tightly in his hand. But then, to his relief, your expression softened, your eyes lighting up with warmth and affection.

"Darry?" Your voice was soft, filled with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

Darry swallowed hard. His throat suddenly dry. He extended the bouquet towards her, his hand trembling ever so slightly. "For you," he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

A smile spread across your face, brightening his mood with its warmth. "These are my favorite! How did you know?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with delight as you reached out to accept the flowers. You pushed the door open letting him in as your searched for a vase for your sunflowers.

Darry felt a weightlifting off his shoulders at your reaction, a sense of relief flooding through him. Maybe he hadn't completely messed things up after all. "Just a lucky guess," he replied with a shy grin, though deep down, he knew it was more than just luck. He had been paying attention, learning the little things that made you happy, and he was determined to make it up to her.

Darry watched as your smile grew wider, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of happiness seeing you so pleased with the flowers. "I'm glad you like them," he said, his voice soft with sincerity.

You wrapped your arms around him in a spontaneous hug, and Darry felt his heart swell with warmth at the gesture. "Thank you, Darry," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

The embrace felt like a balm to Darry's soul, soothing the lingering doubts and fears that had plagued him since last night. But as he held you close, he knew there was still something he needed to address, something he couldn't ignore any longer.

"I need to apologize, Y/N," Darry began, his voice tinged with regret. "I was a jerk last night at the bonfire. I shouldn't have dismissed you like that."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. "Darry, it's okay," you reassured him, though there was a hint of hurt in your eyes.

But Darry shook his head, his gaze earnest. "No, it's not okay," he insisted, his voice firm. "You deserved better than that, and I'm sorry for treating you like you didn't matter."

Your expression softened as you listened to Darry's heartfelt apology, and a sense of understanding washed over you. "I forgive you, Darry," you replied, reaching out to gently caress his cheek. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

Darry felt a wave of relief wash over him at your forgiveness, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to make it up to you somehow, to show you just how much you meant to him. As he looked into your eyes, he could see the depth of your care and affection reflected back at him, and it filled him with a sense of gratitude. He realized in that moment just how lucky he was to have you in his life.

A mischievous glint sparked in Darry's eyes as he felt a surge of confidence coursing through him. "You know, since we're both feeling so forgiving and all," he began, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "how about I make it up to you by taking you on a proper date?"

Your eyes widened in surprise at his suggestion, a smile spreading across your face. "A date?" you echoed, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Darry nodded, his grin widening. "Yeah, a date," he confirmed, his tone filled with determination. "How about we go to that fancy restaurant downtown? The one with the candlelit tables and that amazing carbonara dish you love. I know it's your favorite."

A delighted laugh bubbled up from your lips at his suggestion, and Darry felt a surge of pride knowing that he had guessed right. "You remembered," you said, your voice filled with warmth.

Darry shrugged nonchalantly, though his heart swelled with satisfaction at your reaction. "Of course, I remembered," he replied with a wink, his flirtatious side coming out to play. "I pay attention to the important stuff. You're the important stuff."

And as you laughed and agreed to the date, Darry couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within him. Maybe this was the start of something new, something wonderful – a chance to show you just how much you meant to him, and to make up for his past mistakes with little moments like these.

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[chippedshake]

Ponyboy's narration pt. 2

Okay so.

I was going to make one post about all of the characters from the Outsiders as narrators but then I started with Ponyboy and saw it was too long a post. Then I started writing Ponyboy in two parts: how he influences the reader and what could've brought him to being an unreliable narrator, but I started with the how and saw it was too long a post.

So this is the second post about Ponyboy’s unreliable narration

This is the post where I talk about how Ponyboy influences the reader (i.e. what tehcniques he / S.E Hinton uses to change the reader's perception), and now this post is about what aspects of his personality brought him to be an unreliable narrator.

Just as a warning: almost everything I'm about to say is subjective (although heavily based on logic) and based on the way I interpret a character.

So without further ado:

What has brought Ponyboy to be such an unreliable narrator?

First of all, we have to consider that Ponyboy's only human. As I mentioned in my first analysis, I wouldn't be able to recite the conversation I had with my friend at the bus stop this morning, much less one from several weeks ago. When Ponyboy writes his English theme, it's been at least a couple weeks since Johnny and Dally died (I saw a detailed timeline somewhere; if I find it I'll link it), so everything has a certain degree of uncertainty.

But that's not the interesting part, because not all first-person narrators are known for being unreliable, while all first-person narrators have this degree of uncertainty that comes with everything being a recollection of facts.

I think that Ponyboy's unreliability can be boiled down to two main points: low self-esteem and struggling with social cues.

Struggling with social cues is a bit simpler to explain, so I'll start with that.

As I said in my other post, Ponyboy states his opinions as absolute facts. But often his opinions are misguided: he thinks Dally doesn't love anyone, and Darry doesn't care about him, both of which are eventually proven wrong. Those are both conclusions he got from taking interactions at their face value, not realising what the other two were thinking.

Darry yells at me? He must hate me. Dally doesn't show his love? He must not feel it.

Since the narrative corrected him on a couple times he failed to read social subtext, we can't assume he's right the other times he tells us what a character is thinking with absolute certainty. He could perfectly well be wrong, only he hasn't been corrected yet.

This is most evident with Johnny.

I think everyone in the fandom pretty much agrees that Ponyboy mischaracterises Johnny, portraying him as much weaker than he really is.

Some examples of Johnny's characterisation:

He was the gang's pet, everyone's kid brother.

...

"Me and Johnny'll come," I said. I knew Johnny wouldn't open his mouth unless he was forced to.

...

Then for the first time, really, I realized what we were in for. Johnny had killed someone. Quiet, softspoken little Johnny, who wouldn't hurt a living thing on purpose, had taken a human life.

I'm not saying that Ponyboy is 100% completely off when he characterises Johnny because that would be stupid. I have no authority to say he's wrong because Johnny doesn't exist and I don't personally know him.

I do however think that Johnny isn't exactly like Ponyboy says, simply because he was proven wrong with both Darry and Dally, so I have no reason to believe him about Johnny. It probably holds a nugget of truth, or is a reasonable misinterpretation just like Dally and Darry, but isn't the complete truth.

Now this is bridging into full-on speculation territory, but I think that Johnny changed how he was around Ponyboy. As someone who is currently sixteen and has an almost-fourteen-year-old little brother, I am not my real self around him. Of course, the situation is different, but I think that when you interact with someone younger than you, there is a conscious or subconscious filtering process.

Johnny might be quiet, but being quiet doesn't have to mean being the gang's pet or everyone's kid brother. Ponyboy probably misinterprets his silence for a sort of weakness or softness that I personally don't think is there.

Does that classify as a tangent? I think that classifies as a tangent. Idk guys I just love Johnny. I should dedicate a post just to how characters are mischaracterised and how I think they really are.

*adds to drafts*

Anyways...

Where was I?

Right, Ponyboy not understanding social subtext and social cues.

Basically, I think that there's a lot of times where he thinks someone means one thing and he's just drastically misinterpreted what they mean, only he never realises he's wrong. Not all that deep.

Now for the good stuff: Ponyboy's low self-esteem.

Why do I think he has low self-esteem?

Because I have low self-esteem and project onto my favourite characters

For a variety of reason, really. First of all, I have never met a teenager that is genuinely not insecure at all. Everyone’s uncomfortable with how they look and insecure about their abilities, and I think every teenager would be a very unreliable narrator as well as an insecure one.

And, well, Ponyboy is at the very least humble because

I get put into A classes because I'm supposed to be smart

It drives my brother Darry nuts when I do stuff like that, 'cause I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I don't use my head.

Ponyboy, at least at the beginning of the book, only ever says he's "supposed to be smart", not that he's actually smart. Cherry says he's smart. Darry says he's smart. Soda says he's smart. But Ponyboy never says he's smart.

Now, there's a lot to be said about how Ponyboy views intelligence (writing one post just brings me to fifteen other ones I want to make), but I think that even assuming he views intelligence as a negative trait, there are lots of ways to say "I'm smart", at least one of which shouldn't remind him of the negative connotations. "I'm good at school", "I'm school smart"; if he wanted to avoid saying "I'm smart", there were other ways.

 There was another column about just Darry and Soda and me: how [...] I made the honor roll at school all the time and might be a future track star. (Oh, yeah, I forgot — I'm on the A-squad track team, the youngest one. I'm a good runner.)

Ponyboy only ever tells us he regularly makes the honor roll and might be a future track star when it's absolutely indispensible. He doesn't like to brag about his accomplishments, much like someone who doesn't think they're important accomplishments.

He tends to devalue his own accomplishments and strong spots while exacerbating others'. (heh did you see that I used exacerbate in a sentence and it sounded natural)

We've all laughed at how much he waxes poetic on Soda's looks, but that is an example of him bringing attention to someone else's positive traits while mainly paying attention to his own flaws. He criticises his own looks in the opening monologue while constantly complimenting Soda's. He says he has a good build but he's still small for fourteen and talks a lot about how much muscle Darry has.

That isn't to say he doesn't criticise other people, he does, but he's constantly comparing himself to others and using their virtues to point out his own flaws in the most teenager form of self-hate I've seen.

I think the most interesting and possibly compelling argument for Ponyboy's insecurity lies with how it ties into the narration.

Ponyboy tells us that Steve, Dally, and Darry hate him at the beginning of the book. He thinks that three out of six people in the gang hate him.

That's nice.

Now, Dally and Darry are proved to actually care about him, but with Steve we're just left with the original assumption.

Let's take a look at the evidence, shall we?

I liked Steve only because he was Soda's best friend. He didn't like me — he thought I was a tagalong and a kid; Soda always took me with them when they went places if they weren't taking girls, and that bugged Steve.

...

Steve shook his head. "Me and Soda are pickin' up Evie and Sandy for the game." He didn't need to look at me the way he did right then. I wasn't going to ask if I could come. I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him.

...

Steve flicked his ashes at me. "What were you doin', walkin' by your lonesome?" Leave it to good old Steve to bring up something like that. 

That's it. That is all the evidence we have that Steve dislikes Ponyboy.

Ponyboy's opinion when he's introducing him, a supposed "look" (might I remind you that we've established that Ponyboy cannot read social cues), and Steve being... worried about him? In a way Ponyboy doesn't like?

Where have we seen that before?

(In case you haven't figured it out: that's exactly what happened with Darry)

And every other time Steve appears, there is absolutely no reason to think he dislikes Ponyboy. They seem friendly even.

Am I saying Steve is never annoyed at Pony? Absolutely not. If my best friend's little brother tagged along to all of our hang-outs, I'd be pissed off too. But there's a big difference between not wanting someone three years younger than you to tag along when you hang out with your best friend and genuinely hating them.

But if you have low self-esteem, you look at any signs of someone being lightly annoyed at you and take that to mean that they hate you (speaking from experience).

What this means for the storyline is that Ponyboy will undermine his own abilities and give the impression that his relationship with other people is worse.

So, in conclusion, Ponyboy is an unreliable narrator because

He's only human and can't be expected to remember everything perfectly

He is very, very bad at reading social cues and understanding subtext, so these are often mis-explained

He has low self esteem and therefore undervalues his own virtues and assumes other people have lower opinions of him

[d8nielaa]

baby girl as like a little kid and soda helping her with a bumped knee. we all know he's the most physically affectionate person, and darry is more practical. pony is crying bc you're crying, and dally comes over and is like damn kid man up LOL

Authors Note: yes anon!! dally would actually be so confused as to what is happening it’d be hilarious. First Babygirl Curtis fic!! So serious in the pic 🫡 im also gonna use the scenario that i put in the head cannon when Babygirl was like 6 on her bike.

⚠️ talks of small injuries; blood

You’re Okay,

The Curtis Brothers (+ gang) x Babygirl Curtis

It was a warm, sunny evening in the east side of Tulsa. It was after dinner, and Babygirl was riding her bike. She needed to clear her head, her train of thought was all messed up. Being the only girl in a boy filled household, was exhausting. She didn’t really feel like she belonged, only with Ace.

Babygirl had rode around the block a couple of times, the sun lowering down as the stars slowly began to appear. She became distracted and fascinated by this sight, that she failed to see the uneven sidewalk that came with a bunch of little sharp rocks. She rode over the sidewalk, which threw off her balance and caused her to fall of the bike. Her knee landed against the shark rocks, causing tears to brim her eyes.

The pain was unbearable, stinging and burning. She had also scraped her elbow, which allowed a small line of blood to trickle down her arm. Tears continued to brim her eyes, blurring her vision. The 6 year old felt she had no choice but to call out for her brother (s).

“S-soda!” She yelled with a shaky voice, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. Thankfully, the house was 2 houses down from where Babygirl was, so it only took one call for all three of her brothers to come out. Soda saw her, immediately running towards her, Ponyboy and Darry right on his tail.

He kneeled down next to the girl, a concerned look on his face.

“Baby-babygirl what happened?” Soda asked, the tone in his voice making the tears fall faster onto Babygirl’s cheeks.

“I-I fell off of-of my bike” The girl said shakily, trying to control her breathing while wiping her tears. Soda placed one of his arms under her knees, placing the other on her back as he slowly lifted her up.

Ponyboy watched, his eyes wide and full of pure sadness as Darry grabbed Babygirl’s bike, hauling it over to small shed they had while the other three walked back into the house.

Soda quickly made it inside, placing Babygirl on the couch while Ponyboy kneeled down next to her, holding her hand. Ponyboy and Babygirl were close, as close as siblings could get. Ever since Babygirl was born, a connection formed between the two. A few tears slipped down his face, which most people would find weird if they didn't know their history.

"Shhh, its okay baby, your okay." Ponyboy said, tears streaming down his face. It was like he was reassuring himself more than you.

The door slammed, causing the 7 and 6 year old to look up. In came Darry, alongside a 14 year old Dallas Winston. His expression was confused, yet concerned.

"Babygirl, you okay?" Dally asked, kneeling down beside Ponyboy, placing a hand on Babygirl's shoulder, while also rubbing Ponyboy's back.

"I-i fell and I scraped my knee a-and my elbow." the 6 year old mumbled out, tears running down her face as Darrel helped Sodapop look for the first aid kit. Dallas then looked at Ponyboy, confused as ever.

"Pony- why are you cryin?" He asked.

"Cause she's crying" Dallas gave the younger boy a deadpanned look.

"Man up Ponyboy, you're scaring her." Dallas said, causing Ponyboy to nod his head and try to stop crying. Sodapop and Darrel quickly came over, first aid kit in hand. They cleaned up her scrapes, before bandaging them and sitting the girl up. Sodapop sat on the couch beside her, pulling the younger girl onto his lap. He moved the small hairs out of her face, his gentle touch calming her down.

"Shhh, it's okay honey, you're okay."

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Authors Note: HIii guys!! sorry I haven't posted in a while I keep procrastinating writing but im back!! got another fic that should be up soon!

lots of love