#and he’d always choose pony and soda

[diorgirl444]

to all the greasers i’ve loved before - chapter 1.

warnings: bad writing (my first time writing a multiple part fic ), don’t let the picture of dallas fool you he barely features in this chapter i’m afraid, fem! curtis reader though it is never specified whether the reader is a bio daughter or adopted and so can be read as either, doesn’t follow book canon, 1060 words <3

you had always loved love. your parents were more than happy to recount stories of how you would wander around the house dressed in your nightdress with the lace curtain over your hair clutching onto a small posy of daisies and dandelions. you had called it playing weddings and it was your all-time favourite game.

this obsession with love trickled into other things with most of the cookies you baked being heart-shaped or being the only person to still give everyone, even the weird kids handmade valentines after it was deemed uncool at about thirteen. yes, you loved love but there was an important differentiation, you loved the idea of it. so you supposed it was natural that you began to write love letters the way some people wrote diary entries.

you kept them in a teal silk hatbox of your mothers which had long since lacked the hat intended to be in it. there was one letter for every boy you had liked at one time - five in total. Bryon from volunteering at the hospital, Johnny from freshman homecoming, Dallas from two summers ago, Randy from Model Un and Keith since forever. you supposed your letters were less i love you love letters and more goodbye love letters. they were a way of accepting the crush whilst also allowing yourself to let go and move on. that you could sing to the Ronettes and not be singing about him, that you could buy milkshakes at the diner and not wonder which flavour he’d choose. the letters set you free - at least they were supposed to…

Keith Jacobs was a friend of your brothers but you’d always been a bit in love with him. his mother moved to Tulsa all alone with one son and a baby girl just across the street from you and so your parents, lovely people that they were invited the Jacobs round for a fried chicken dinner. you made a peach cobbler for dessert and when Keith asked for seconds - you glowed with pride. by the time he’d finished his third helping you’d already decided what shade of white your wedding dress would be and from that day he was practically always at your house. there was time when it was the four of you, Daryl, Soda, Pony and Keith but then your parents died and it all changed.

Daryl had to grow up and then the other three all started hanging out later and getting into fights which was fine because you had Angela and Sylvia. well, you had Sylvia till the summer before high school. then suddenly over that summer, she started smoking cheap cigarettes and wearing tight jeans where you were still happy to read a silly romance novel and bake cookies. angie was more like Sylvia really but she was like a street dog who you’d given a treat to - loyal to a fault and kept coming back.

which leads you to where you are now, the last day before junior year and the house is packed. you and Daryl were determined to keep up the tradition of home-cooked meals, mainly for Ponyboy but if you were honest with yourself sometimes as you mashed the potatoes with the radio turned up you would close your eyes and pretend your parents were slow dancing behind you. it turned out that most of your brother's friends didn’t normally eat well so they would often come round too. privately you wish they wouldn’t, they were too loud to you with no manners and they didn’t wash their hands before they ate. but for Ponyboy, the baby of the family you put up with it. You break out of these thoughts when Two-bit speaks, because as you hate to remember he’s Two-bit now not Keith anymore.

“guess who scored themselves a girlfriend”

You choke on your broccoli as all the boys cheer and clap him on the back. your ears ring and you feel like you’re gonna be sick. quietly you whisper to Daryl.

“I don’t feel very well. I think it’s my monthlies - I’m gonna go to bed”

he nods ruffling your hair affectionately as if you're still five and not almost seventeen. you don’t mind - that’s Darry’s way - playing dad to you and your brothers.

“g’night kid I’ll bring you some hot cocoa up and one of those hot water bottles wrapped in a towel.”

as you retreat to your bedroom with tears stinging you hear a chorus of “goodnights” and “feel better soon” from all apart from Dallas. despite your pain you still have the energy to roll your eyes, god forbid Winston cares about someone other than himself for once.

once you clasp your box and retreat under the floral quilts that your mom made you finally allow the tears to fall as you reread the letters. you decide tomorrow you’ll draft a new letter for two-bit, an official goodbye to the foolish hope you’ve clung to for so long. You hear the click of the look, and hastily you shove the letters back into the hatbox and wipe any resounding tears. Pony perches on the edge of your bed holding out the hot cocoa and water bottle that Darry had promised you.

“sissy, you okay?”

you bite back a laugh when he calls you that, a name that he called you as a baby that just stuck. then you watch his eyes catch the hatbox with curiosity.

“what’s that?”

clutching the box to your chest you speak.

“nothing just an old hatbox of mom’s that I keep recipes in. I’ve been working on a new strawberry shortcake one.”

you lie easily knowing that since that’s Pony’s favourite dessert it’ll distract him. he grins widely at you and you are reminded how young he is like a stab in the gut.

“promise?”

he says holding his pinky finger out.

“promise baby, I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

standing up you say to him as you press a kiss to his forehead and place the box away in the top shelve of your wardrobe. he’s still at an age where he pretends that stuff grosses him out so he scowls childishly as he leaves the room. you slip into your white cotton nightgown and finally let sleep overtake you. you’ll deal with it all in the morning and yet in that weird stage between sleeping and awake, you swear you hear the door open once more…

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

@socgf @heart-shqped-box @jujuheartz13 @r0seb100d @cranberrv @anifever @notagreasernotasoc @honeysmoonn for now i’m just tagging all the people who expressed an interest but if you don’t wanna be tagged or wanna be added let me know <3

[callme-holly]

Hiiii, could you do the Outsiders x reader who's obsessed with cats? Like, she's always petting random stray cats she sees and is begging to take them home. And I love your writing! 😊😊

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚/𝐧: I'm getting back into the flow now, y'all. Please keep sending in requests!

Darry Curtis:

Darry doesn’t mind cats; he’s never really had a strong opinion on them; they’re just sort of existing, you know? It isn’t until he meets you that he starts paying more attention to them. He’ll stop and watch you fondly as he pets random cats in the street, and he won't complain when you bring them over to say hello to them. He isn’t against having a cat, but he isn’t sure he can handle having one in the house with their current financial situation, so he’s pretty firm when it comes to you bringing strays back home. “No way. We can’t afford it right now.”  Maybe one day, when money isn’t so tight, he might relent and get you a cat, but don’t hold him to it. 

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda fully supports your love for cats and will stop with you on the street to greet every single stray. He’s the type to pick up little kittens and hand them to you, just to see you smile. He’s always up for trying to convince Darry to let you keep one and will occasionally sneak one in to surprise you, hiding it away from Darry and feeding it scraps from dinner. If you were to get a cat, he’d probably choose a stupid name for it and insist on carrying it around like a baby. 

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony understands your fondness for cats; they’re quiet, independent, and make pretty good company. He often stops with you, watching as you pet the strays, and might occasionally get down to fuss over one himself, scratching their chin and ears. Sometimes, he’ll sit in the lot with you, sketching the cats and gifting the drawings to you. If you beg him to take one home, he’ll be pretty reluctant, not wanting to face Darry with the question. So instead, he compromises, telling you that you can go out and feed them, and that they can stay in the backyard in the shed. 

Johnny Cade:

Much like you, Johnny is naturally drawn to the strays, mostly from how much he hangs around the lot. He’s probably befriended his fair share of cats from all the nights he’s spent there and has no trouble going to visit them with you. He’ll gladly feed them and fuss over them, letting them rub around him and paw at his jeans. He loves how gentle you are with animals and admires how much you love them. He starts bringing treats in his back pocket for them, just in case you find a new cat to befriend.  If there’s a cat you’re particularly drawn to, he’ll help you make a little shelter for it and will go with you to feed it every day. 

Dallas Winston: Dally isn’t particularly fond of cats and would much rather ignore them than fuss over them. He’ll constantly tease you for fawning over the strays, but secretly he probably thinks it’s a little sweet. He’ll act too cool to care, but the more he hangs around with you (and the cats), the more he finds himself absentmindedly tossing them scraps of food. He might even surprise you by bringing you a tiny, scruffy kitten he’d rescued from a rough situation, tossing it into your lap like it’s no big deal. He refuses to take care of it though; the feeding and other shit is all down to you, and no way in hell is it allowed to sit in his lap.

Steve Randle:

Steve thinks your obsession with cats is amusing and never fails to make little jabs and jokes about it, calling you the “cat whisperer.” But, deep down, he loves the strays just as much as you and will do as much as he can to keep them safe. If you beg him to take one home, he’ll relent after a while, creating a little bed/crate for it that stays in the garage of the DX. The cat soon becomes one of those pets that hangs around constantly, sitting on top of the cars he’s working on and lounging on the backseat of his car whenever he leaves the door open.

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two totally understands your love for the cats. If the two of you are out together, he’s showing you all the cats and befriending them right alongside you. He’ll crouch down and call out to the strays, petting them and scratching under their chin. He’s probably the first to suggest sneaking a cat home, wrapping it up in his jacket, and carrying it along like a little baby. If a cat likes him more than you, he will rub it in and make your life hell over it. 

[johnnycakesswitch]

What are some of your purly headcanons?? I just got supper obsessed with them lol

Yesss we love purly in this household here we go:

• they’ve been friends since they were pretty little just because they’re the same age, both greasers, etc. Even if they weren’t always super close, they kinda had each other’s backs like if Curly saw someone messing w Pony he’d give him a “fuck off or see what happens” kind of look or if Curly’s getting into some trouble Pony would try to distract him because school is no fun if Curly is suspended

• as they get older though, they become more friends, like proper friends who hang out and get up to stupid shit. Darry and Soda don’t love that Curly is who Pony chooses to hang out with, but at the end of the day, they’ve all done stupid shit too, and as long as Pony doesn’t get arrested or break his curfew, there’s not much they can really say

• how they got together was a very slow, unofficial progression. One day Curly asks if they should practice kissing on each other so they can be ready and Pony’s like yeah that sounds smart. So they’re each other’s first kisses and they continue to practice on each other so they can get better and better 😭

• one day Pony’s like “so have you kissed anyone else yet” and Curly’s like “nah you?” “Me neither” and it’s quiet for a few minutes before Pony goes “I like when we do tho” and Curly’s just like “yeah same” so they just keep doing it then

• I feel like they don’t really call each other boyfriends, but everyone that’s important to them knows they’re together. If we’re being realistic, they wouldn’t be able to act like more than friends in public so that plays a big role in it, but they don’t really mind because they’re not pda people at all and if they know they’re together, that’s what matters

• Curly uses anything but Pony’s real name. Baby Curtis and Ponybabe are probably the most frequently used

• when they’re not in public, they’re not super like affectionate, more just handsy. Always arms around the waist or on the hips when they’re sitting together or walking somewhere. They don’t hold hands that often but Pony likes linking pinkies. They like to lay in each other’s laps and argue over whose turn it is to do so 😭 Pony likes to do it while they watch tv bc Curly will rub his back or head and he looooves that. Curly likes to wrap his arms around Pony’s waist and bury his face in his stomach and take a nap like that

• making out all the time. Every single one of the gang, Tim, and Angela have walked in on them making out. It’s a canon event in their lives, could not be avoided. Curly and Pony have the audacity to not even be embarrassed they just go somewhere else to continue 😭

• Angela and Pony actually get along super well and whenever Pony is over Curly will yell at her for trying to steal him 💀💀💀 Angela is like bruh I do NOT want him

• then as soon as Pony leaves Angela has to listen to Curly just talk and talk about this kid like she cannot catch a break

• Tim likes Pony because Curly tends to stay out of trouble more now and also he just thinks Pony is a good kid

• overall Purly might not have the most conventional relationship but they love each other and at the end of the day that’s all that matters

[only-lonely-star]

‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋆ 🎃 ˚｡⋆.ೃ࿔ Halloween HCs ‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋆ 🎃 ˚｡⋆.ೃ࿔

Warnings - Mentions of gore, Johnny’s headcanons are kind of sad tbh 😭, “laced” candy, mentions of Curtis’ deceased parents.

Author’s Note - These are miscellaneous headcanons!! I can’t bring myself to wait until Halloween to post this, so I’m doing it now! I’ve been in the fall mood for so long and this scratched my brain just right. I would kill to live in Tulsa around the holiday season in the 60s- like you guys don’t even understand. I hope you enjoy! 🐈‍⬛🍂

── ── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ── ──

The Curtis gang NEVER misses on Halloween, it’s their night.

I can definitely see Two-Bit going all out with his sister (I personally HC her to be younger, around 6 maybe), and decorating their porch all cutesy with jack-o-lanterns and fake spiderwebs. Two-Bit would probably take her trick or treating around 7-8 pm when it’s just getting dark. He’ll save the actual night for fun with the gang.

Soda and Ponyboy still go trick or treating even though most greasers see that as “little kid stuff” and stop around the age of 12. It’s like a tradition for them to go every year. Darry grew out of it before their parents had passed, but when they were still alive they sent him to drive Soda and Pony around town and help out with navigating the streets. He still does it to feel more at ease with them going out as well as reminiscing on past Halloweens. (This made me think of the annual ornament situation from S.E Hinton’s Christmas story 💔)

Darry always rummages through Soda and Ponyboy’s bags and picks out his favorites to smuggle from them, hoping they won’t notice. I just know he loves his chocolate bars - I’m talking Hershey’s bars and Milky Way bars.

I feel like Dally would be an even bigger asshole and blame it on Halloween.

Dally tricks, he doesn’t treat.

He’d also pull all sorts of pranks on people he knows just for kicks. He’d try and scare Tim or some shit by messing with his lights and causing loud banging sounds from outside. Tim obviously knows it’s Dally so he chooses to ignore him until he can’t take it anymore.

Steve’s favorite holiday growing up was always Halloween. He would always earn the title of best dressed for the costumes Mrs. Curtis would hand sew ☹️. She took pride in it too, she’d work super hard until he was satisfied with it. (I get superhero vibes from him, maybe even like a pirate 😭)

The Curtis household is THE hangout for trading candy (let’s be honest, when is it not?)

Johnny’s favorite holiday is Halloween because it’s one of the few major holidays that doesn’t require him to see families bonding all around him ☹️ (Also because he can roam the streets without being singled out for being a Greaser.)

I’m pretty sure (like 99% sure) it’s canon that Dally is afraid of spiders, so I think it’s safe to say he fucking HATES any of those life-sized spiders people put on their windows as decoration.

Johnny hates people dressed up as the dead, it’s just unsettling to him when people do that whole ‘fake axe in the head’ thing or plastic intestines (I hope you guys know what I mean, or else I sound like I’m literally insane.)

Halloween is Ponyboy’s second favorite holiday (besides Christmas) because he gets to dress up. I think this is so cute because I also headcanon him to do theater for school. 😭❤️ Costumes are very exciting for him because he’s so used to doing it for theater.

Darry loves to carve pumpkins with silly faces and put them out on their porch for the little kids when they stop by. I personally think he’d be so great with kids since he’s had the older brother role all his life.

Darry can’t STAND fruity and chewy candy.

Two-Bit was Mickey Mouse for Halloween when he was like five and it just stuck with him. 😭 I also feel like he could imitate Mickey’s voice so well that a little part of his inner child is screams every time he successfully does it without having a voice crack.

Cherry ironically hates cherry-flavored lollipops or chews even though everyone hands her that specific flavor to be funny. She thinks it tastes like medicine. (She likes the fruit though!)

Soda will gladly suck down the old grandma candy nobody likes. Those strawberry chews, butterscotch, off-brand candy corn - he’ll eat all of it.

Steve would totally try to make the DX all festive for Halloween and tell Soda “it’s for the kids” even though no kids willingly go to the GAS STATION unless their parents drag them along.

Ponyboy lovessss Halloween movies and usually wants to watch them with Johnny since he loves the horror portion of a ‘Halloween movie’. Johnny likes the thrill.

Two-Bit dresses up at school on Halloween. He doesn’t give a shit, it’s canon he just goes for kicks.

Johnny likes to hang with Dally and mess with people or play stupid pranks on them since he really doesn’t like the idea of trick-or-treating at sixteen.

Johnny grew out of trick-or-treating at a young age. He felt he was too mature for it since he was forced to toughen up as a kid due to his parent's constant abuse. Normal child activities feel foreign to him.

Halloween parties at Buck’s go CRAZY and Dally always looks forward to seeing those girls in skimpy ‘costumes’. (Very Mean Girls ‘Halloween rule’ inspired.)

Darry used to always be like a little photographer on Halloween eve and would take pictures of Soda and Pony and proudly show the pictures to their parents. “Pony, give me your pillowcase so i can take a photo… now hold your hat up… smile normally, not in character….perfect…”

“Careful, you gotta check that candy first, kid. people hide blades and stuff in candy,” while Two-Bit stabs Ponyboy’s candy bar with his switchblade and laughs his ass off.

I’m so ready for Halloween. I don’t care how old I get, I’ll always love dressing up and shit and just fall vibes in general. I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did making it.

I LOVE YOU, THANK YOU FOR READING 💋

[alaskan-wallflower]

(tw for suicide mention and alcohol)

super silly goofy fun time headcanon under the cut 😃

when the curtis parents died, the day after the funeral darry was at a job interview pretending like nothing happened. because in his mind nothing did happen. he planned the interview a week prior. his parents are still alive and well. he’s not single parenting his brothers. he’s not more of a father than a brother. he didn’t just watch his parents be buried. he didn’t. he tells himself as such. and he immediately gets the job and starts working his tail off. but he’s providing for his brothers and his parents. they’re not dead. they’re not dead. months go by and around three months later darry is in his room alone. he just heard pony say he would rather have soda stay with him at night over darry. and it stung. he felt a limp in his throat as he simply nodded. that night he sleeps with his door cracked open with the small sliver of hope that pony would choose him again. that they could go back to old times. that pony was still able to get out of bed. that soda would genuinely smile instead of putting on a forced facade because he was essentially gluing them together. he spends a few hours just staring at the ceiling before something catches his eye. his football trophy. he swears he hears his dads voice telling him “it’s gonna be okay, Junior.” and darry loses it.

he closes the door and just absolutely breaks down. he shoves away all his football trophies. he doesn’t bother being careful. it’s all gone. his old life is all gone and this is going with it. he doesn’t bother being careful. his parents are gone and there’s nothing he can do. after he shoves the box of now half broken football trophies away he sneaks downstairs to the liquor cabinet. he hasn’t done it much. he had gotten a bit tipsy with two bit on more than one occasion but he knew that was going to be nothing like what he was about to do. he wanted closure. he wanted to feel numb. and so he grabbed the bottle of his father’s favorite that he’d let darry have a few sips from as a late teen and sneaks back upstairs and closes the door. he looks at his old football uniform. he stares at it. he remembers the nights he spent quietly crying because he didn’t think he would make it on the team, or he didn’t think they had enough money to buy a uniform. but he also remembers on his thirteenth birthday where his dad had worked double shifts the entire month and scraped together the money for a uniform. He looked on the back. “Curtis 23.” it read. he took it off the wall and held it. Then he approaches his helmet. His father had written on the inside of it. “I’m always proud of you, champ. Even when you can’t hear me say it.” and he looks into his reflection on the dark surface of the helmet. There he sees his dad. But it isn’t his dad…it’s him. It’s his reflection. He blinks once and it fades away and all that’s left is his broken facial expression as he cups a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs as he pops the top off the liquor bottle and drinks it. it burns. but he knows in twenty minutes the pain will dull. it always did. He spots his switchblade. The one his mother had protested against him having but his father insisted he would need it. Hell, was social status so dangerous that his own father thought he had to carry one?

The drunken haze came quicker than he thought. It hit especially hard in his empty stomach, which gurgled and churned with alcohol and dispair. He stared into the knife before thinking. They’d be better off without him. He couldn’t even hold it to together. he was the oldest. he had to be the strongest. and he wasn’t doing as much. He had been sneaking alcohol like a drunkard on more than one occasion. He imagined Soda and Pony sleeping in the next room. He imagined them and how they seemed to get along so well and he wished he could go back and not take his younger brothers’s clingy love for granted. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he saw red on his hands. Even in his drunken state he knew what he was trying to do. He couldn’t take living anymore. Not like this. Not without his dad. But he had to keep going. For his brothers. He was conflicted. but he pulled himself together. he bandaged his wrists sloppily and honestly didn’t even register anything until he woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, crusted blood surrounding where his throbbing wrists were and the stench of alcohol and vomit filling his room.

should i write fanfics 🤩

[lovelylegolas2123]

Ponyboy Curtis W/ Older Sister! Reader Headcanons

Request: Could you please write headcanons for Pony with an older sister? Where she’s similar to him with his interests and being sensitive/different from others and kind of withdrawn, but also serious like Darry with a good head on her shoulders? Thank you! (Also the Dallas headcanons were great, I’m gonna go read all your other stuff)

A/N: Thank you so much, I love knowing people like my little hobby! This is a great idea! I don’t think this is exactly what you were looking for, but I tried. 🙃🙃

——————————————————————————————————

➼ You and Pony go to the movies all the time. He simply loves the fact that he can share something he loves so much with somebody that actually shares his interest.

➼ He’d also try to get you to watch the sunsets with him as well. (Mainly because you’re the only person who won’t make fun of him for it.)

➼ You guys were always close growing up, and he maybe cried a little when you first got a job after your parents die.

➼ (Scratch that he definitely cried)

➼ But to be honest, the whole gang definitely loves and cares for you.

➼ Even with how mature you are, you are absolutely not allowed to go out by yourself at night.

➼ AND ABSOLUTELY NO BOYFRIENDS

➼ But back on the topic of Ponyboy……

➼ If we’re talking Post-Canon, you definitely had to help Pony get his grades back up.

➼ As we know, when Pony and Darry get into fights, Soda normally more chill and sides with Ponyboy.

➼ But you absolutely can never choose sides.

➼ Not only do you know that it would harm your relationship with both of them. But you can see both sides of the argument.

➼ Unlike Soda and Pony, you understand what Darry is going through, and that’s why you got a job. To help him not have to grow up any more than he has to.

➼ You’re the only person besides Johnny that knows about Pony’s crush on Cherry.

➼ You know that it would never happen, but you still let him talk to you about her whenever he needs to.

➼ If you EVER get broken up with or cheated on, Ponyboy is the first person to comfort you.

➼ “He called you too sensitive!? You’re the toughest gal I know!”

➼ Heaven forbid if your ex abused you too, then all the gang is gettin’ in on it.

➼ But I feel like overall, Ponyboy is so so grateful to have someone like you!!

[lunarfleur]

mickey 😇 do u have any thoughts for pony or darry with a sick s/o 😇 asking for. uh. a friend 😇

I just gave you everyone…cause why not?

The boys with a sick s/o hcs!

Tagging: @collieflower215 @sophie-i-guess13 @whyareyouhere66 @sluggmuffin @spaceagebachelormann

This is x gender neutral reader!

Darry Curtis

Darry’s the best there is when dealing with someone who’s sick

The only problem is, he has to work.

He’ll leave you soup to warm up, though, and small notes

On said notes, he leaves you reminders to do things like shower and take hour vitamins

If you wake up in the middle of the night to throw up

You bet your ass he’s gonna be there, too

He’d hold back your hair and get you water

He’s just cute like that

Sodapop Curtis

Does he know what he’s doing? No.

Does he care about getting sick? Also no.

He doesn’t know how to take care of someone

Like he doesn’t know what they should and shouldn’t eat when sick.

But he’s gonna be there for you

He’ll cuddle you as much as needed

And bring you everything you ask for.

He’d run you a bath and wash your hair for you so you can relax

He’s a sweetheart, y’know.

He doesn’t care about getting sick, so he’ll kiss you no matter how gross you feel.

Ponyboy Curtis

It’s a dilemma

He has to choose between risking getting sick by being close to you or not be close to you

And he hates it

But he’d make you soup and bring you homework from school

He offers to do said homework so you can rest, too.

But

He can’t handle throw up. No way.

The smell? The sight? He’d vomit instantly.

He’d hand you a hair-tie, sure.

And he’s there for you

Just from the doorway.

Two-bit Mathews

He’s quite a lot like Soda when you’re sick

He’s not quite as put together as Darry, but he’s there

He gets you anything and everything you want

And has no problem cuddling you

He knows you’re feeling awful

So he makes you laugh to try and lighten your mood

He brings you out into the living room so you can watch Mickey Mouse with him

Fall asleep on his chest. Do it.

Steve Randle

Steve’s very indifferent when you’re sick.

He hates being sick

So he honestly tries to stay away from the germs

But he doesn’t leave you on your own

He brings you food and water and stuff

And would hold your hair back when you throw up (but not without fighting back gags of his own)

But he doesn’t hang all over you and kiss you

Johnny Cade

He’s so cute, honestly.

He’s very gentle with you

and patient.

He asks Darry how he can help you (physically)

And he asks Soda how to be there for you

So he’s always giving you water to keep you hydrated

And very awkwardly keeping your hair out of your face when you throw up

He’s a little worried about getting sick

But he ignores it because he knows that if he does get sick he’ll just end up on the Curtis couch.

Dallas Winston

Dallas hates being sick

Like more than anyone

But he feels bad because he knows it’s awful

He’s a bit gentler when you’re sick

He isn’t as tough

He lets you fall asleep on his chest and he’ll rub your back

Just don’t try to kiss him

I think whether or not he’d hold your hair back depends on how he feels

But assuming he does when you are…

He does so while mumbling under his breath

Small things, “nasty, man.”

Tim Shepard

You’re sick.

Tim says no.

The last thing Tim wants is to be stuck at home because you got him sick.

He tells you he loves you

And feeds you and stuff, too.

But you’re honestly on you’re own

Curly Shepard

Truthfully, our boy does his best

But also truthfully, he sucks at taking care of people

I’m imagining him just…sliding you a box of tissues and some water

If you throw up when during the day, he won’t necessarily hold your hair back

but he’ll tie it back for you

If you throw up when he’s asleep?

He won’t wake up. Sorry, he has enough sleeping problems as it is.

[dalusional]

A Girl Named Jane.

Ponyboy FanFic

Angst!!

Description: Jane and Ponyboy were always looked at as the perfect couple, they were meant to be. They clicked together perfectly and were eachothers pride and joy. They always said they couldn’t live without each other…although sometimes life has its own plans.

“You’re okay Pony, you’re going to be okay. I have to go now.” Janie stood there, looking as beautiful as ever. The light from the sunset glazed over her features perfectly. Bags were in her hands as her hair blew beautifully within the breeze. A harsh pain stabbed me in the chest as I realized what she meant.

“How could you do this? How could you do this to me?- To us?! We held so much and you are just choosing to throw it away like it’s nothing at all!”

“Ponyboy it’s not like that. You know I didn’t have a choice.” How could she be so solemn about leaving? I couldn’t help but feel like she never cared. Janie and I never argued once. Our bond was so perfect, nothing at all could damage it. No one could tear us apart. We were meant to be, inseparable- everyone knew that, so why now? What made her want to leave? That’s when I realized her choice of wording.

My lip quivered as I spoke, as if I knew what was coming. “Didn’t? What do you mean didn’t.”

“You know Ponyboy. You know. Remember that day?” As if lighting had just erupted, the harshness behind her words struck me deep. My heart began to sink low into the pit of my stomach, it was as in the blink of an eye the beautiful scene behind us changed in an instant- the perfect sunset suddenly became a gut wrenching stormy night. I began to shake as she took a step closer to me, making the sensation of guilt I held even harsher. Deja Vu began to overcome me but I couldn’t remember where I’d been before in order to relive this painful sensation. “That day down at the railroad tracks? I’m not leaving Ponyboy you left me.. but for some reason you can’t help but admit it. Say it Pony say it! Say it god damn it! You left me there to rot! You could’ve saved me!”

The sound of her words slaying through my ears attacked me so brutally I began to hold my stomach. Her words like knives, I almost fell to my knees but somehow was able to stand.

Now I Remember.

Remembering the scene of her lying there motionless could’ve killed me.

“No! No! NO! Stop it!” I yelped at the taunting of her words. The pain within my heart began to become so insufferable I swear I could’ve passed out right then and there. I glanced at her hoping for some remorse- no, I looked at her hoping for something I hadn’t seen in awhile, her comfort. All I saw infront of me was her emotionless state. “I didn’t have a choice! I…” My words trailed off into the distance as the aura of her stare became more fierce.

“You left me there to rot in my own blood and sorrow. You know it.” No. No. Please no. “The moments you had to cherish me are over now Pony. I have to go now.” She said as she turned swiftly and began to walk into the distance. My heart had now completely shattered and the lump in my throat became so large- I couldn’t breathe. Her white dress blew swiftly in the wind as her silhouette began to disappear out of my sight. “Janie!” “Janie No! Please Stay!” I tried to yell, even at the top of my lungs nothing came out. No. No. NO. not again. I couldn’t take this. Not again.

“Ponyboy!” A distant call jolted me from my sleep. I gasped for air sharply and sat up, not noticing at first how stained my cheeks were from my dried tears. I turned to see Soda looking ruffed up as if he’d been suddenly awoken also. “What?!” I exclaimed now noticing the sensation of dried tears against my skin.

“What do you mean, what?! Are you okay? You were having a nightmare I think.. you kept yellin and hollerin…” I suddenly remembered what I had been dreaming moments before and cut him off. Soda knew how sensitive I was about the topic and for that couldn’t seem to finish his sentence.

“Jane.”

“Yeah..” He said softly and somewhat relieved I finished for him. Everyone especially Soda never liked to bring her up, I hadn’t been me since the incident and when I was finally happy, they tried their best to keep it that way. “man you’re gonna be okay. It’s not your fault man, there was nothin in your power-“

“It was my fault Soda.”

You could’ve thought the world shook from how Soda reacted. “What?!” He said shocked at my words. Yes, I had dreams like this all the time, but I don’t know.. this one felt more realistic- more harsher than others. I mean, it woke up Soda so that should make a point. I couldn’t help but feel like it was a sign of some sort. “Yeah, I mean… why would I keep having these dreams Soda? What if she’s trying tell me somethin. I mean..” Soda cut me off with a hug- he could somehow sense the throbbing in my heart as I spoke, maybe my voice cracking hinted it.

“It was never your fault man. You did what you could, you went to fetch help.. there was nothing you could’ve done yourself to tend to her state. Hey.. her last moments were with you just remember that, okay? Laughin and smilin- with YOU, pony. That means she really loved you, loved you enough to enjoy her last moments with you. You didn’t push her infront of the train now did you? It’s gonna be okay man. I promise.” I know Sodas words intended to hit me hard, but they didn’t. Nothing anyone could say or do would change my mind. I just want my Janie back.

“Yeah…” I said softly. “I just… I miss her Soda.. I really loved her. If only I didn’t agree to take her to the creek that day. We could’ve just stayed in, watching old romance movies that she liked.. and I hated.” I let out a soft chuckle at the thought. One thing Janie and I never agreed on was movies, but I always gave in and let her pick. Anything to see her smile, man I loved her smile.

Soda rubbed my shoulder softly, he cracked a bit of a smile as he thought of something to say. “You out of anyone knew her mental state before your time Pony, it wasn’t any good now was it? But! You know who changed it? You Pony, you didn’t kill her, you saved her. You showed her what life was all about before it came to an end man.”

I nodded as all our memories flooded my head. Her soft yet cheeky smile tattooed in my head, her laugh was consistently ringing in and out my ears. I enjoyed every moment with her, my Janie. All I can do now is hope I satisfied her within the moments we shared together.

I finally got Soda to believe that I was okay- somehow persuaded him to go back to sleep. All I could do was lay there and think about everything. Janie was the most perfect girl I ever had the chance of meeting, I could picture us growing old and raising a family together. She had the most soft, delicate skin- her features were so perfect she didn’t need all that makeup. Man.. she looked great in yellow. I always loved how she looked in a summer dress. The way her hair gracefully blew in the wind and somehow always stayed lookin perfect. Janie, is what I called her.. my Janie girl. She was my pride and joy, and I was hers.

It was time for her to go. her life was cut short. Janie herself would’ve said something along the lines of “that’s the best thing that’s couldve ever happened to me.” She always told me she couldn’t take being here anymore, but I’d say it’s the worst thing that’s happened to me.

Maybe Sodas right, maybe I made her change her mind? I don’t know, all I know is there was once a girl who lived by the name Jane- my first love.. a girl who I’ll never be able to forget.

[socheckitout-mikey]

This maybe kind of a dumb question, but say one of the greasers were to get married, what would everyone wear and how would everyone act?!

heya birdie! this isn’t a dumb question at all, but i had to really think about it. thanks for requesting it tho! my best friend @brideofcthulhu10 helped me with this one as i was stuck. so go show her some love, tho she writes for The Lost Boys! (: i hope you enjoy what i’ve written bc it’s a right mess! - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

One of the Gang Getting Married Hc’s:

° Alrighty, let’s be real, it’s either Sodapop or Steve who’s getting married first.

° Just bc Johnny’s too afraid to speak to girls after the whole Sylvia ordeal. Though he’d be a likely candidate if he found someone real swell!

° Two-bit seems like another likely candidate, though, in my personal opinion, he doesn’t seem to be incredibly serious about Kathy or likely to be the type to be serious and settle down any time soon. He’s definitely the flirtatious type and doesn’t take relationships too seriously, which is just Two-bit: Though I don’t think he’s the type to flirt and mess around with other girls out of being malicious, he just seems to be the type to not adhere himself to things like Sodapop or Steve. But with the right person, he’s serious.

° Dally is definitely out of the question, particularly at the moment. I doubt he’s looking to be tied down by anyone any time soon and the thought probably freaks him out a little. Though, that’s just my own personal opinion. To me, he just doesn’t seem like the marrying type, especially not atm.

° Pony’s just too young and awkward. I view him as the baby still, no matter how old he’d be. I’m not even going into more detail lol.

° And poor old Darry! He’s so busy and tired, there’s no damn time for him to look into dating! Even though he’d be psyched to if he could. But he never thinks about that sorta stuff because Darry’s a busy, grouchy man; and rightly so!

° I believe that Steve would be one of the first to marry because of the fact that him and Evie seemed to be quite serious in the book from what I understood. They’ve got a relationship that’s clearly going strong, and it must’ve lasted for awhile since at one point he got arrested and she cried about it, staying faithful. She also seems to be someone that Soda and the other’s get along with.

° But for this piece, I’m choosing Sodapop! Now, I know y’all will be thinking that he’d have some major trust issues after Sandy, and you’re honestly not wrong. He would!

° However, I think that Soda deserves a lucky break and for something to go right for him for once! So, let’s say he’s met his soulmate and everything’s just gone all swell! He’s popped the question in the most thoughtful and romantic way possible, bc it’s our Soda we’re talkin’ about!

° He’s gonna be nervous asf and Steve’s the one to calm him down bc let’s face it, he’s his best man! The little pep talks that’ll happen before it oh my gosh!

° Soda and the other boys are pretty casual, and honestly, I’m leaning towards it just being a smaller wedding. Sodapop wants people that you both love there: Nothing to spoil the event, and quite frankly, it goes perfect.

° The wedding probably occurs in a small local church if that’s what you guys have decided, but afterwards, you guys would probably have drinks and food back at the house, where everyone’s dressed a little more fancier than usual.

° Or the wedding is a small one in your backyard, but it’s still just as special.

° I note this just because they’re greasers and they don’t have much, but they know how to have fun and how to make this day special. It’s about the feeling, not about the material grandness of the day!

° At least that’s what you keep reassuring Soda with, because you can tell he feels a little guilty about not being able to give you what a Soc could. But that’s not why you’re marrying him, right? You’re marrying him because you both bring out the best in each other!

° Well, during the wedding, there was a lot of hollering and grinning from the boys, something that was making Soda blush up a storm!

° I mean, even Dally and Two-bit are taking it seriously. The pair dressed up as snazzy as they could, joking that they’re looking as fine as ever to take away the beautiful bride!

° Darry may or may not have had to hold Sodapop back from launching cake at them both.

° Ponyboy’s grinning from ear to ear! He’s geeking out so hard because he loves you to pieces and he’s never had a sister: So having you be more of a prominent figure in his life is going to make him really happy!

° Darry’s just so happy that there’s someone to calm Soda down and settle him out: Keep his head right on his shoulders. If that’s not the case, he’s happy that Soda’s got someone just as nuts as him! Though, he feels horrible for you because of all the experimentation that you’ll encounter within regards to food.

° Steve loves you big time! He’s gonna miss his best friend, but he’s happy that he’s marrying someone so understanding and amazing. You also get on very well with Evie which is a bonus!

° Johnny’s the first to get a dance with you after Soda, and he’s blushing the whole time. You’re probably the only girl that he talks to, but obviously not in that sense. He likes you so much because you’re always getting him candy and giving him a good cooked meal, a listening ear and comfort. He thinks you’re a really sweet girl and suit Soda.

° Dallas is happy for his buddy. Although married life isn’t too much his style, he’s happy to see Sodapop finally catch a break with someone who’ll treat him right. He constantly jokes that he’s gonna pick you up and it bugs Soda a lot but Dally’s only joking.

° Two-bit’s a people person, so he gels along with you quite well and makes you laugh so hard. You also make Two-bit laugh a lot. You’re both practically joined to the hip! Two-bit’s always flirting with you, but he flirts with just about anyone.

° Definitely the one who offered to elope to Mexico with you and got a curt smack to the back of his head by Darry!

° Alright, so the gang got you a really terrible fake gift for your married life which made you two end up laughing once they brought out the real thing. It was something practical and pretty expensive since they’d all pitched in to get you guys something good because you both deserve it. Soda cried like a baby!

° There’s a ton of dancing and it’s kinda cringe. The gang dancing together makes Ponyboy and Johnny want to crawl under the floorboards like; “OH MY GOD SODA STOP DANCING LIKE DAD!”

° Darry even dances and ya boii sweeps you off your feet and you’re kinda gobsmacked because who’s switched him out for the alien?!

° Idk what else to say really, they’re all just happy for you both! The gang won’t make anything dramatic, and any drama that does occur, it’s quick to be laughed over bc they’re all pretty laid back. They wouldn’t really let anyone else shit talk you guys.

° Besides, Two-bit’s there and able to diffuse any odd tension with a joke.

° It’s the best day/night of your lives.

° Y’all got so drunk oh my god.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: open!

[staygold-ponyboycurtis]

The Funeral

The Curtis parents’ funeral, from Darry’s perspective. Enjoy :)

- 

Frozen. That’s the word. That’s how I’ve felt for the past eight days, five hours, and fourteen minutes. 

In some ways, I don’t think my brain can access the place where it keeps sadness and grief. Growing up like I did, you just don’t let your mind go there. You have to be brave. No crying. No weakness. I have to be strong for my brothers. I can’t let them know I’m suffering and want to fall apart every second of every day since this nightmare began. I have to let them know we’ll be okay. Even if I don’t quite believe it myself.

We got the phone call less than forty-eight hours after we learned mom and dad were gone. As if things couldn’t get harder for us. An apathetic voice on the other end explained to me that they’d be sending over a representative from the state of Oklahoma to assess our familial situation now that there were two minors living parentless in the home. We had less than a week to gather our bearings, then our fate would be decided by an asshole who knew nothing about us.

Before I could even process that my mom and dad were gone, I had the weight of the world dropped on my shoulders. A bitter realization that life as we knew it was about to change forever. Sodapop and Ponyboy couldn’t even mention the subject without anxiety burning through my body. 

It seemed they had a million questions that I couldn’t answer. What would happen to them? What would I do to handle the situation? Could the courts really take them out of our home? They knew there was a chance that they’d be sent off to a boys’ home for orphaned kids and we’d never see each other again. I told them that was impossible. That there was no way in Hell I’d let that happen. I couldn’t lose my entire family in the span of a few weeks. I just didn’t know how I could stop it. 

“They can’t just take us, can they, Darry?” Sodapop had asked. “Don’t we have any say?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “They’re going to do what they think is best for you two.”

“Bullshit. They don’t know what’s best for us.”

But today isn’t about that. Like everything else, I’ve trained my brain to ignore the pressing issues before us. Store them in a place where the truth can’t hurt me too badly. Today is about saying goodbye to mom and dad. 

I stare at the two dark oak caskets sitting at the front of the altar. They’re closed. The harm caused by the accident was unfathomable. I had to identify their bodies at the city morgue. It was a task that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. When I saw the damage that was inflicted to my poor parents, I got sick all over the linoleum floors. That was the first and last time I’ve broken into tears this week. 

I forbade my brothers from seeing our parents in their final state. They begged, but I couldn’t let their last memories of our mom and dad be such a gruesome sight. One that has haunted me every second of every single day since. I want Sodapop and Ponyboy’s memories of our parents to be warm, loving, and happy. Something to mend the heartbreak.

At the funeral home, my brothers asked if they could leave a few things with our parents before burying them. Ponyboy wrote two long letters, both a few pages long. He mulled over what to write for hours, sitting at the desk in his room crumpling up papers and getting frustrated with himself when he couldn’t get his thoughts out. He folded them up tightly and handed them to a man named John, who was in charge of everything. He give him strict instructions on who to give each letter to, seeming resistant to trust a stranger with what I imagined were intimate, emotional messages to our mom and dad. Sodapop handed over a photo of the three of us on Christmas last year, arms slung over each other’s shoulders and smiling, giddy with holiday spirit. He wanted mom to have it. It was her favorite picture. 

I’m torn out of my daydream when Sodapop starts walking to the front of the church. The turnout is small, with just a few of my parents’ friends peppered throughout the pews. We’ve never had a big family, which is all too apparent at a time like this. Mom was an only child, and dad only had a younger brother who died in the Korean War over a decade ago. All we had was each other. Two-Bit, Johnny, and Steve sit together a few rows behind the three of us. Dallas sits by himself in the last row in the corner of the small church, his head down low. I nod at him when I catch his eye, letting him know how grateful my mother would be knowing that he came to say his final goodbyes. 

I see Sodapop’s hands shaking as he situates himself in front of the podium. Neither mom nor dad had any funeral plans designated for us to follow, so we had to choose how to honor them. Two whole lifetimes summed up a few hours. Mom was always religious and enjoyed going to church, so I decided that she would want a formal service. Sodapop insisted that he wanted to speak. I decided I would, too. Ponyboy said that he wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t think he’d be strong enough. Though I told him that mom and dad would have liked him to share a few words in their honor, he implored me to not bring it up again.

“I don’t even know what I’d say, Dar,” Ponyboy had said quietly. “And I don’t think I could get through it without blubbering like a baby.”

I knew that Ponyboy, like me, would grieve our parents silently. These past few days, he hadn’t mentioned them at all. I saw him lose it when he saw dad’s old flannel draped over the couch the other day and again when he opened the fridge a few days ago and found a chocolate cake that mom had baked the day she died. I acted like I hadn’t noticed him rush into his room and close the door quickly, but pressed my ear to the door to make sure he was alright. I could hear him crying heavily in his room, trying to catch his breath in between sobs. But I knew that this was natural and necessary, and that I’d be less than comforting if I barged in on him. 

“Hi, everyone,” Soda says in a small, defeated voice that is so unlike his usually charismatic demeanor. His voice quivers and I can see his eyes well up with tears before he’s even begun. I want to run up there and pull him into a tight hug, but I know that he needs to do this. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his dress shirt. “I’m sorry, I swore up and down that I wouldn’t cry.” 

He looks at me and Pony for reassurance and continues, pausing to gain composure. 

“My mom and dad were the best parents a kid could have. There’s nothing that my ma wouldn’t do for anyone. She always said that being our mom was her favorite thing to be. Well, being her son was my favorite thing to be. Mom and I were one and the same. It was like we had the same exact personality. We were the goofballs… the crazy ones in the crowd. She loved a good time and loved music, just like me. 

She was funny, but not in the way most moms are. She could joke with the best of us, even our friends. And she always knew how to make you feel like you were the most important person in the world. Because when you were with her, you were. She knew how to make everyone feel special and cared about. Gosh, am I going to miss that about her… She was the best. There will never be another person like my ma."

I look over at Ponyboy, whose eyes are inquisitive and burning holes in the side of my head as we listen to Soda speak. His face is swollen from crying so much, the tip of his nose red. He gives me a look that says, Why aren’t you upset? Don’t you care? But I’m petrified. Frozen. There’s that word again. My face is stoic but my heart is cracking with pain and each memory Soda recalls is deepening the weak spots. I want to be a pillar of strength for my brothers. I don’t want to fall apart in front of them.

"When I think of my dad, I think of someone who wanted the best for us. The day of the accident, he was celebrating a promotion at work, which he worked hard to get. But he loved to goof off like mom, too. He loved to play football in the front yard with all of us. Nobody could hike a football like him, no matter that he was twice our age. And he loved sweets, like me. I would always sneak into the kitchen at midnight to grab a piece of whatever mom had baked that day, and dad would have already beaten me there. And, usually, had a plate out for me already. I used to love talking with him in the middle of the night, just dad and me. 

Nobody worked harder than dad, either. He worked his whole life to make sure we never wanted for anything. He never wanted us to go without. I know now that that’s what makes a good man. I wish he could’ve lived to see it all pay off. And I wish I had gotten the chance to tell him that. I don’t know how we’re going to survive without them. I love them both. So much. And I hope they rest in peace. Thank you.”

He wipes his eyes again and makes his way back to our pew. When he sits, I squeeze his shoulder and wrap my arm around him. I feel his body tremble with tears and rub his back until he calms down. 

The priest ushers me to come up and speak, and I hesitantly stand, adjusting my suit jacket. Making my way up to the podium, I look out to the forlorn faces in the crowd. I look at Sodapop and Ponyboy, whose faces are contorted with sadness. I swallow the dry lump in my throat.

“Thank you all for coming,” I say bleakly. “My mother and father would appreciate you all being here to support us and remember them today.” 

I reach into my pocket and pull out a worn piece of paper that I’ve been hanging onto the past few days. I’ve been scribbling notes here and there about what I wanted to speak about. No matter what I would write, it never seemed sufficient to describe the enormity of what my parents meant to the three of us. I didn’t know where to begin. 

“As you all know, we lost my parents over a week ago unexpectedly. There was no time for my brothers and I to say goodbye or tell them how much we loved them. We never got the chance to thank them for everything they’ve ever done for us or tell them how hard it would be to live the rest of our lives without them…” I trail off, feeling the sadness creep in. 

I want to keep it formal. Just say the typical things everyone says when someone dies and get back to my seat as soon as possible. But I want Ponyboy and Sodapop to know that I’m hurting, too. And I want to honor my parents the best I can. So I continue.

“My mom always used to say to us, ‘If we always have each other, we having nothing to lose’… I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately,” I say. “Because now we’re separated. We’ve lost the two people we love most in the world. And I don’t really know how we’re going to go on. But then I’m reminded of so many things about our mom and dad and what they taught us. How to love each other and to stick together, no matter what. How to make a lot out of a little and to be grateful for what you do have rather than focus on what you don’t. And even if they’re gone now, I believe they’re looking down on us, right by our side like they’ve always been. So, really, we’re still all together. It just may look a little different now.” I look at my brothers again, who have small smiles on their faces.

“My mom was the nicest woman you would ever meet. She loved anybody who walked through our front door, no exceptions. She’s the reason why we have friends who became family,” I say, nodding to the gang in the pews. “And dad was the perfect example of a role model. He raised us to be strong, humble, and hard-working. He pushed us hard but loved us well. I’ll miss them both incredibly. We all will.”

I look at the two caskets below me and acknowledge that my parents are in them. A few feet away from me, but it feels like thousands of miles. I’m overcome with grief and I can’t stand it. I almost lose my composure when I feel the tears fill my eyes.

“That’s all I have...” I say. “Thank you all for coming.” I rush off the stage as the tears start coming. Ponyboy and Sodapop stand up from the pew and rush over to me as I make my way back to the pew, joining together for a hug. They push their faces into my chest and I put my face on the top of their heads, letting the tears fall. 

I wish more than anything that we weren’t here right now. That life had some other plan for us. But, then, I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Everyone shuffles out of their pews and out of the church at the announcement of the priest, congregating by the front door. I don’t know how long we stand there hugging, weeping quietly on each other. 

We pull away and look at each other, then chuckle a bit at how distraught we all look. 

“I love you guys,” I say to them, sniffling. “We’ll be okay.... we’ll be okay.”

-

I love you all and your support of my writing lifts me up so much, you couldn’t even imagine. Thank you for enjoying my writing the way you do 🥺

[multisugars]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — having a famous girlfriend (possible au??)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 — How would the gang react if their girlfriend became world famous or something? Like they had to constantly go on tours/etc

this is such a fun request! i’m sorry it took so long i just had no idea how to go about writing this since it’s such a specific request :) but i think i got the hang of it...i tried to make it sound as realistic as possible...hope you like it!! xx

𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮

a music producer heard you signing outside a local shop and you signed with him on the spot, the rest is history....you started your tour about a year later with a full album already competed and a band that was joining along side you. darry was so supportive and agreed to go with you as long as the boys were in responsible company which you made they sure were. he can be a bit overprotective at times, when you arrive to big venues you’re always a little nervous to see all the fans anxiously waiting for your arrival. you would have never imagined you’d make it this big, darry always believed in you but i think it was also something that he also has to get use to.

“we’re here! chicago illionios!” your manager announced from the front of your giant tour bus.

“you good?” darry asks snapping you back to reality.

“yeah of course!” you nod cheerfully. “just nervous.”

“you’re going to be amazin’ it’s just like singing at home,” he reassures.

“no it’s not!” you laugh. “this is a sold out show.”

“okay well it’s just like home plus about a thousand extra people watchin.”

“darry!”

𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙥

he’s your biggest fanboy in the world. every step of the way sodapop has been by your side. from when you first started singing at your school choir to now. before your shows he even goes around passing out merch to everyone but steals some for himself when no one is looking, even though you told him he can have whatever he wants without any charge. he loves to watch your performances from either back stage or right in the front row. if he can choose he’d rather be front and center so he can have a perfect view. at times you see him getting jealous in the crowd when other men cheer for you, but he’s always is waiting for you after so he can tell you how amazing you did.

“you were so good!” he gushes pulling you into a warm hug. “i could barely take my eyes off ya!”

“thank you soda,” you hug him back “for everything, for being here.”

“you know i wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” soda looks down at you placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙮𝙗𝙤𝙮

he so badly wants to go with you but you encourage him to stay back and finish school, you graduated high school early so this wasn’t a huge problem for you and you know how much education means to ponyboy. the months spent apart are difficult but you have a pretty solid relationship and a few months of being apart won’t do any harm to your personal life. he calls you every morning and right before you go to bed. sometimes even before you go on stage to perform. he wishes he could be there to support you fully but he knows you’re amazing and can handle anything they throw at you.

“i can’t wait to watch your show,” pony says over the phone.

“i hope you like it. i added your favorite song to the lineup tonight!” you exclaim.

“anything you do i love,” he laughs. “you outta know that by now.”

“i do, really,” you pause for a moment when the stage crew gives you the five minute signal. “hey i have to go it’s almost time, but i love you so much.”

“i love you more.”

𝙙𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙨

honesty he hates you being on long tours he thinks you’re being worked to hard by you management. when you have a day off after long hours of rehearsals dallas never lets you go anywhere without him, he’s worried that the fans will mob you, which has happened before and really terrified you. it’s not that you believe they would hurt you but the pushing and shoving and the cameras being shoved in your personal space makes you anxious. sometimes he can get insecure about how many male fans you have. he’s afraid you’re going to get bored with him. which makes him push to be around you more.

“dallas no you’re not joining my security team,” you cross your arms.

“hear me out babe, what if some guy thinks he has the right to touch you just because you’re famous...”

“i have a fantastic team already dal. i’m protected.”

“okay, okay,” he throws hiss hands up in defeat. “but i’m still comin..”

𝙟𝙤𝙝𝙣𝙣𝙮

when you first told johnny about the tour he asked you first about tagging along. you didn’t even have to try to convince him. he was extremely excited for you and incredibly supportive, like always. at times he’d worry though. when he saw you collapsing of exhaustion at night he always made sure you were okay and he also doesn’t let anyone boss you around to much. late at night when ya’ll can't fall asleep you work on your music, escaping to the roof of whatever hotel you are at in that moment. singing to johnny, he’s the only person you sing to when you’re working on a new songs. he makes you feel comfortable, but when you ask for feedback it’s not much help because he thinks everything you sing is gorgeous and should be shared with the world. 

“you could be singin’ scrips from the Bible and i’d still think it sounded beautiful,” he tells while looking up to the stars. 

“soooo...that’s a yes on the song then?” you joke. 

johnny laughs, turning to face you. “absolutely.”

𝙩𝙬𝙤-𝙗𝙞𝙩

two-bit shows his support for you but in a endearingly embarrassing kind of way, sometimes making you want to curl up into a ball or wear a ridiculous disguise while in the public eye. he loves to wear shirts with your face on them all day. you had personally designed them for the tour and your fans. when you are back home he can’t help but brag to everyone he meets that you’re his and no one else stands a chance. which you think is kind of sweet, until he gets too aggressive about it. this makes him want to take it a step further, every night before a show he begs you to let him join a song with you on stage. which is something you’ve never done.

“cmon please i know every single one!” he says proudly. 

“and that's great! but don't you think the fans would be too overwhelmed? “you question trying to get him to back out without sounding mean. “and i definitely would hate to see any girls trying to make a pass at you once they see how amazing you are.”

two-bit nods agreeing. “you're right. i’m way to pretty for tv..” 

you slap his arm before walking away. 

𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚

sadly steve doesn’t go with you on tour, because he’s committed to his job. even though its not the most high paying he still thinks of it as home, that's a decsion you have to respect. this doesn't stop him though from watching all your performances at home and he always makes sure to call you after. he shows his support in many ways. but the most extreme thing he’s done is asking his boss if he can play your tracks at work, which he has to agree to when steve has asked him every single day since you left. when customers come in he tells everyone how talented you are and threatens them until they agree to stream your music. you did not approve of this.

“you hear the girl singin’ on the stereo?” soda asks while helping a customer get his gas. 

“uh yeah, what about her?” the man gives soda an intriguing look. 

“that's my girlfriend y/n y/l/n she's a famous singer. you better go and buy her album after this for i’ll ban you from ever comin’ to this gas station again,” he warns. 

“what?! that's absurd you can't do that!” 

“watch me!” soda lunges at the man before he jumps into his car driving away. 

as steve makes his way back into the store he smiles to himself. 

“really hope that worked...”

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Fire and Woohoo- The OW Trio Plays The Sims

(D.Va, Lucio, and Junkrat have a very special game night with an old classic.)

The snacks had been warmed, the drinks chilled, and they had gathered in Hana’s room again. Game night had just begun, and it started off with a proclamation.

“First off, J-Man and I had a meeting and we both agreed that we’re not playin’ any more fighting games,” Lucio declared. “The only way either of us can win is by him cheesing you with that low kick move on that one dude, and then you both start fighting in real life and I gotta break it up.”

Hana glared at them both. “Well maybe because there’s no skill involved in legsweep spam!”

Junkrat’s ever-present grin only turned sharper. “Oh-ho-ho! Still pissy because that one time I kicked your arse usin’ an effective strategy I invented myself, and you can’t just admit—”

They were starting to lean a little too close to each other already, and Lucio sighed as he shouldered in between them and spread both arms to keep them at bay. It was a well practiced strategy that he’d had to do many, many times before when tempers flared. “See! There you go! I mean it this time, we are so not doing any more fighting games. Just choose something else for game night.”

“Ugh, fine. What do you boo-hoo babies want to play tonight? Dress-Up Pony Adventures? Pachimari Island? The Sims?”

Junkrat seemed to give the choices serious thought, apparently not understanding her sarcasm. “What’s a The Sims?”

“Oh, uh,” Hana looked slightly taken aback while Lucio only smirked. “You don’t want to play that. Even I haven’t played that in years. It’s just a game where you live every day life. Like you can make little people and a house and have them get jobs and adventures and just…wacky stuff sometimes? Like I made us in the game ages ago—”

“Wait, ya made me in a game? I wanna see me! Show me The Sims Junkrat!” he demanded.

Lucio’s smile turned into a grin at the scowling Hana. “Hey, that sounds fun to me. You made a little game version of me too? Show us.”

“Oh my god, you guys,” she snorted, spinning her chair back around to face the screen. “Fine. I’ll show you the Overwatch House and your little dudes, but only for a minute. I am not spending the whole game night on The Sims. Babe, grab me a drink?”

Lucio abandoned his chair to meander over towards her mini-fridge while Junkrat pulled up both long skinny legs to rest on the edge of his chair— a chair so dirty and soot-smeared, with the cushion ruined by his peg leg and bony rear, that it had been made his own personal game chair and nobody else dared touch it… after Hana had given him an earful for trashing the thing. He perched on his seat, watching curiously as the screen lit up with The Sims 9 logo and the cheerful title theme began playing.

“The fuck is this music?” he asked, giggling madly.

“I warned you it was goofy!” she snapped, looking a little embarrassed as she snatched up the beer Lucio offered to her. Clicking it open and taking a sip, she watched as the cutscene played and the little sim characters went about their act. “See? Those are the simulated people. Get it, The Sims?”

“Wot.”

“Never mind. Lucio, you ever played this?”

“I think maybe once when I was a kid? Not this one, though.” He snapped open his soda, taking a gulp and frowning at the taste. “Aw man, did they change the ingredients in my soda again? I gotta rethink that endorsement deal. I don’t want the kids thinkin’ this is good stuff.”

Hana nodded, flicking through her save files as the game continued on. “I warned you, you have to watch the drink companies in particular. They’re always trying to change the quality. My team had a clause that no drink product could change their recipe without going through our manager first. Oof, after what happened to The Starstrikers when all those kids got tooth rot…”

Junkrat grumbled from where he was gnawing at the blackened edge of a fingernail again, up until Hana smacked his hand away from his mouth. He snorted, looking dour as he glanced between them. “Yeah, well…Mebbe one day I’ll have me own line of soft drinks, ya know? Something what’ll even outdo the Bundabergs and Bickfords! Represent! Something like… Junkrat’s Junk Root Beer, or Roadhog’s Pink Lemonade. That bloke loves pink lemonade like nothing else. Think junker merchandise could really rake in some coin…” His eyes drifted in two different directions, the way they sometimes did when he was in very deep thought, only to come snapping together at something he saw on the screen. “Oi! Is that us!”

It was more than just them, he saw. Almost the whole organization had been modeled into cartoon people form, or at least what Hana had been able to mimic of them. Soldier 76’s combat visor had been replaced with sunglasses, Torbjorn was nowhere near as tiny or bearded as he was supposed to be, Reinhardt looked more old and fat and gray than the muscular juggernaut that he was, and several of them he didn’t recognize at all. But they didn’t interest him.

Hana and Lucio’s Sims were standing next to each other, with Hana dressed in her favorite pinks and blues, and Lucio wearing a green t-shirt, his dreads nowhere near the magnificence that they were in real life. Frankly, they didn’t interest Junkrat either.

There was a very tall and very skinny one, with spiked blond hair, all four limbs intact, wearing one orange glove and a black backpack instead of a tire, and instead of his skull and fire tattoo it was just a swirl of tribal black. Junkrat gaped, jaw falling open.

Hana coughed. “Uh…Sorry? It turns out Jamie is not really not the easiest guy to make into a Sim? I mean, I didn’t want to get into all the cash shop stuff so I did what I could. And your hair kind of just makes you look like a blond Goku, but y—”

Junkrat leaned forward so abruptly that his face nearly smashed into the screen. “I look bloody amazing, mate! Look at that! Really captures my likeness, that does. S’got my good side n’ everything! And…” His wide eyes got even wider, pupils practically becoming slitted. “Look who’s next to me! Does that mean we’re a couple in the game?!”

Hana pinched her lips together and looked skyward, trying very hard not to laugh for a moment before she smothered her snickering into her beer. Lucio elbowed her and merely grinned, gesturing to where Junkrat was still trying to enter the computer screen like it was a portal to a better world. Perhaps in his mind it was, as he was standing next to a much smaller and chubbier little figure, with dark hair twisted into a bun, glasses, and a familiar blue outfit.

Finally, Hana emerged from her beer can. “Uh, I don’t think so. It’s randomly generated. Mei’s just standing next to you is all, I think. I mean, Genji’s also standing next to her, and I don’t think they--”

“The cyborg? With Mei? Yeah, nah. Delete him from the game so it’s just me! Can I fight him?”

“Okay you know what, this might actually turn out to be interesting after all. Let’s load up the house…” Hana clicked the button and the loading screen scrolled past. “Okay, this is the game itself. I made us a nice mansion, so we can go see who’s doing what. Hey, there’s Lucio already! See him eating at the dining table there?”

Lucio leaned forward on Hana’s other side. “Aw, yeah! Looks like I have some waffles. Woah, I look good! …Did you give me extra muscles?”

Her cheeks went very slightly pink beneath her whisker marks. “Uh…I may have put you in the gym a few times. Actually, you and Zarya are best friends because of it, so that’s a plus! Soooo! Let’s find Sim D.Va!” She clicked on her portrait, and it zoomed to where her namesake Sim was playing on the computer in a room decorated pink and blue, with multiple game consoles and toys. “Oh hey, meta.”

“Wow, that’s pretty true to life, I guess. You think she’s playing The Sims in her world?” Lucio said, tilting his head. “Or is she…playing our world?” He wiggled his fingers and made a spooky noise “OoooOOoooo?” that soon tickled the back of Hana’s neck and sent her into shrieking laughter as she batted his hands away.

“Yeah whatever!” Junkrat pointed to his spiky-haired portrait. “Me! Me next!”

They clicked the portrait for Housemate Jamie, and the screen centered in on where the lanky Junkrat-esque figure was screaming and waving his arms for no apparent reason, down in the house’s basement. As they watched, he whimpered and hugged himself, and then promptly urinated a blue puddle all over the floor before he straightened and wandered off.

“The fuck’s this!” his real life counterpart demanded. “Did you make me piss meself?!”

“Ooooh,” Hana said. “Sorry, I think I forgot to make you use the bathroom before.”

“Did Mei see?!”

“I don’t think so. Hold on, let’s find her.” She clicked on Mei, who was placidly sitting and reading on a couch, next to where Angela was watching television.

Sim Angela turned to her and commented a cheerful “Yargle boorgle doo!” to which Mei replied a soft “Aaah, ya feeb.”

Junkrat looked aghast. “What’s all that? Are they talking about me? Did she call me a feeb?”

“They don’t speak a real language, it doesn’t mean anything.”

He pushed into Hana’s side abruptly, long arm reaching to the screen and clicking on his portrait again. “Back to me!”

She pushed him right back, elbowing him back into his chair. “Hey! What did I say about trying to steal my screen control! You know the rules!”

Lucio sighed, lifting both hands. “J-Man, she did lay down the rules a while back. You gotta chill, man. Let her do her thing unless it’s your turn, right?”

Junkrat scowled, looking chastised as he slumped back into his ruined chair once more. Though he couldn’t remain sullen for long, watching his little virtual self wander through the dark basement and speaking gibberish to himself. Hana had left the camera on him, at least, despite her protests. And both she and Lucio watched with curiosity as the Sim Jamie spun in a circle and yelled ‘Nipsy vorg!” before ascending the stairs to join the others.

“That there is a man on a mission,” he said, nodding with approval. “Look, I’m thinkin’ of drumsticks, I’m gonna nipsy vorg some chicken.”

Hana hovered over a smaller window with his stats. “I think you’re going to cook something. This’ll be funny. I gave you the pyromaniac trait, so…Let’s watch.”

Sim Jamie passed by Sim Lucio, who was cleaning up the last of his waffles. Following the other Sim into the kitchen, he began dutifully washing his plate in the sink while his pyromaniac housemate pulled a package out of fridge and began chopping it up. A few moments of that, and he shoved the platter into the oven…which promptly caught on fire and began smoking wildly as Sim Jamie laughed and clapped in front of it.

Real life Jamie seemed just as thrilled. “Yeah! Attaboy! Fight the system!”

“Every time.” Hana nodded.

Sim Lucio started shrieking and clutching his hair in alarm, dancing frantically in place for several moments before pulling an extinguisher from nowhere to begin battling the flames. He was soon joined by the sunglasses-wearing Soldier 76, who started screaming helplessly on the sidelines but strangely made no move to help. Sim Jamie just laughed wildly before turning and pulling a whole bowl of cereal out of the fridge, eating and enjoying the show.

“Why am I the only one trying to save the house!” Lucio protested, pointing in a very accusatory way at the virtual Soldier.

“The hell were you complainin’ about before, Hana?” Junkrat said. “This game’s amazin’. Oi, make me go say hi to Mei.”

“Wow, even a kitchen fire can’t distract you? This sounds serious. All right, let’s see where Mei is now.” She scrolled to find the little blue-dressed Sim, who was… blurred out on the toilet. “Oh, um.”

“She can’t stay in there forever! Put me outside the door there.”

“Yeah, Jamie. Totally not being creepy on her Sim or anything, here.”

They abandoned the still-screaming Sim Lucio as he battled the oven blaze, as Sim Jamie took up his post admiring a painting of a sad clown that had been hung near the bathroom. Soon the door clicked open, and Mei exited. Hana took the opportunity to make her charge approach her, selecting ‘Chat’.

“Ah dag voorlog, mis frontoy?” Sim Jamie asked.

“Oh! Blanana! Dipso varootni,” Mei answered, and then laughed. It sounded nothing like her real laugh.

That didn’t stop Junkrat from lighting up, bushy brows lifting hopefully. “She likes me! Make me say that stuff again, she likes it!”

Hana brought up the enactment wheel. “Hey, why I don’t show you how to actually play this? See, these are all your options. What do you want to make your little Sim guy do next?”

“Kiss her!”

Lucio sighed. “J-Man, even the Sims versions of the ladies don’t appreciate it when you just try to kiss them out of nowhere. Why not give her a compliment or something?”

“Uh, okay. Well it says hug, there. Let’s give Mei a hug. Nice friendly hug, right?”

Hana clicked on the hug, and they watched as their Jamie opened up both arms and went in for the embrace, only for Mei to shrink back and rebuff him with a curt, “Eeenh! Va nitso!” that left the spurned Jamie with two disappointed minus bars over his head.

“What the fuck is wrong with her!”  Junkrat demanded. “I’m doing all the right stuff! This game’s shite!”

“Dude, try something more lowkey. Hana, make our boy actually compliment her,” Lucio said, downing the last of his soda. “I can’t believe we’re even focusing on this while the house is burning down, by the way. I’m probably dead in the kitchen.”

“Nah,” Hana assured him. “We’d hear the Grim Reaper music if you were dead. It’s fine. We’re going to focus on the more important things, like romance. Let’s try Lucio’s suggestion.”

Junkrat still looked peevish, but accepted the suggestion as she selected ‘Compliment’. His Sim approached Mei once more, clearing his throat and smoothing back his hair (He really did have a nice head of hair, didn’t he?) before giving her the wink and the gun, saying “Aaay! Wo ta tupsi blorno, dayg.” The Sim Mei seemed a little taken aback, but giggled and swayed a little as she shyly answered gibberish back to him. Plus signs popped over both their heads as they continued.

Hana leaned back and smirked. “So! What did we learn!”

Heartened once more, Rat finally conceded. “Arright arright, maybe the kisses were coming on just a bit strong. Let’s chat her up some more. Oh! Share secrets! Let’s learn her secrets? Oh oh, no, do that one. Talk about fire.”

“Actually, Romeo, why don’t you play for a little bit? I don’t really care what happens to the save anyway— NO, no getting on MY chair. Just move yours in the middle.” Hana rolled her chair to the side, grabbing the back of Junkrat’s chair to push it into her spot. “I’m gonna go make some popcorn. Lucio, come with?”

“Yeah, hold on.” He picked up both their empty cans, moving to follow her out. “Gotta recycle these. Yo J, you want anything from the kitchen?”

Junkrat was already involved in a very deep and completely nonsensical conversation between Sim Jamie and Sim Mei, the task bar already filled as he clicked to compliment her again. “Huh?”

“That’s a no. Come on,” Hana urged, grabbing Lucio’s hand to guide him out of her room as the door whooshed shut behind them. Once she was sure they were out of earshot and a fair distance down the hall, she glanced to him with a more genuine little grin. “You know, this is one of the few times I’m not scared to leave him in there by himself.”

Lucio paused to basketball-toss one of the cans into the recycling bin by the kitchen door, clattering into the goal. “I think he’s doing better with the whole ‘boundaries’ thing, on not blowing things up that don’t belong to him.”

She nodded, ripping open a packet of popcorn and tossing it into the machine. “Not perfect, though. And he still thinks I didn’t notice him stealing my Retro Zeldamari keychain. Uh…I was going to demand it back from him, but then I saw Roadhog wearing it and…yeah, not worth it.”

“Not perfect,” Lucio agreed, smiling a little sheepishly. “Sorry about your keychain, I’ll get you a new one.”

She rolled her eyes, plugging in the cooking time before leaning back against the counter, opening both arms. “It’s fine. I mean, you can still buy me a new one,” she grinned. “But it’s fine. Jamie’s funny. Sometimes I still wanna strangle him, but he’s a fun guy. Don’t worry so much about him, Lu.”

“Can’t help it, I guess.” He meandered forward, wrapping her up in a tight hug and speaking into her shoulder. “Just trying to make sure everyone gets along.”

“That’s because…” Hana drew his chin up with one finger where he had been slumped against her chest, meeting his concerned gaze. Nodding solemnly, she dropped her voice to a furtive whisper. “…because you are the lamest lamer to ever lame…lame-oid.”

The DJ’s face split into a grin, shoulders shaking as he started laughing into her collarbone. “Aaah, ya got me.”

“C’mere,” she said, grinning back at him. “We have like two minutes for the corn to pop. That’s like, two straight minutes of making out. Timer and everything. Ready?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer, pressing her lips to his before he could even react.

His grip tightened around her, one hand sliding down to her slender waist, resting atop one hip as he tilted his head. Their kiss deepened, her tongue soon boldly prodding into his mouth as he started to press her against the countertop. Nearly bent backward, her fingers clawed into the fabric of his shirt to hold on, looping one ankle around his leg. Lucio growled a low hum into her lips, the soft wet sounds of their mouths drowned out by the humming and rapid popping of the microwave next to them.

There was soon a very cheerful ding, and she grumbled as he released her to grip onto the counter, lifting himself off her. Smoothing back her hair, she stood and adjusted her mussed and crooked top. “Two minutes are up already?”

“Time’s up, corn’s done,” he said, shrugging helplessly. “And you prrrrrobably don’t want to leave Jamie in there alone for too long, Sims or not.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but… You want to stay over after he leaves? Like, longer than two minutes?”

“Don’t think I don’t notice you trying to set me up for a stamina joke, girl. And I’ll check my schedule, but I think I might be able to make some time tonight. After game night.” He reached into the microwave and grabbed the popcorn bag, jostling it about before upending it into the D.Va Bunny Bowl she held out for him. “Let’s go see the damage.”

She snorted, taking her corn and leading him out of the kitchen and back down the hall. “It had better be virtual damage only.”

***

Hana’s door beeped and whooshed open, and they found Junkrat still curled in his chair, facing the holoscreen with his cheeks flushed pink and a stranger grin than usual. He didn’t even glance their way, trying to stifle his giggling as he rocked back and forth and remained fixated on the game.

Lucio lifted a brow at him, stealing a handful of popcorn before meandering over back to his own chair. “What did we miss?”

Hana followed shortly after. “Yeah, how are things going with- OH!”

There was the sound of soft moaning from the Sims game, and both of them watched aghast as the bed on the screen bumped and writhed and giggled. Little hearts popped blipped up from the covers, and the blankets were soon pulled down to reveal Sim Jamie and Sim Mei looking adoringly at one another after a round of carnal bliss. Mei even sighed happily and reached out to stroke his jaw, muttering a satisfied little, “Mmm, na darnu pas noorny…” as Jamie uttered a very sexual growl.

Pausing with popcorn halfway to her mouth, Hana merely looked vaguely impressed. “Huh. That was actually pretty fast. I had to give Lucio like ten straight minutes of hugs and massages before he’d bang my Sim.”

“Hey, Sim-Me has standards,” Lucio said. “Gotta get those hugs.”

Junkrat looked up at them, biting one sharp fang into his lip and muffling a shriek of happy laughter. “Ya didn’t tell me there was rootin’ in this game! I was gettin’ all nice and spicy with Mei, even got to give her a kiss on the cheek. So I kissed her cheek a bunch of times, then I kissed her on the lips some. And then I saw Mei had this ‘woohoo’ thing, so I thought she wanted to party, you know? Like, celebrate, woohoo!”

Hana smirked. “…That’s actually super adorable, you thought she wanted a party?”

“Well…turns out she wanted to party all right! So uh…I’ve been making us woohoo since you been gone. Also some weird music started playing and this guy in a cloak showed up, but who gives a shit? So I went back to woohooing Mei—”

“Wait, guy in a cloak? Oh, damnit! Hold on, let me see—” She batted Junkrat’s hands away from her screen as he went to make woohoo yet again, and scrolled over towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was obliterated, little more than a fire-charred husk. Hanzo and the Grim Reaper was dancing to a stereo that had survived the blaze, completely ignoring the scene nearby where Angela, Torbjorn, and Hana were weeping pitifully over the scorched gravestones and piles of ash that had once been Lucio, Soldier, and Zarya. Genji, also scorched and black from battling the fire, lay passed out in exhaustion, snoring amongst the debris.

Lucio’s jaw dropped open. “I’m dead! I told you I was gonna die! Jamie, man, you killed me! You killed like four people while we were making popcorn!”

“Bad luck there, mate. Just had more important things to do. Oi, Hana, put it back on me and Mei. Where’s Mei’s bed, can we woohoo on there next?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Uh, why don’t I just let you borrow the game and then you can woohoo with virtual Mei and murder all your friends as much as you want?”

“Yeh! Sounds ace, thanks darl!”

“Hold on, this is for the game night records.” Pausing the game on the scene of utter house distraction and death, she spun Junkrat’s chair around and pulled Lucio in against her as she grabbed her phone. Snuggling the boys in on either side, she angled the picture so it was the three of them grinning in front of the Sim carnage, with her flashing the peace sign. “For all our dead Sim pals and Jamie’s woohoos. One, two, three, kimchiiii!”

“Kimchiii!”

She snapped the photo, looking down to the newest picture of game night, to add in to all the ones before…the ones with them laughing, eating, arguing, making faces, and the blurry one that Lucio had taken of Hana pinning a flailing Junkrat by the chest while he held the game control out of her reach.

Smiling, she scrolled through them. “That was a good one. I can’t believe the most successful game for you was The Sims. I never would have guessed it.”

“Nah, yeah. Educational game, this is. Lu was right about all the complimentin’ and chats and whatnot, before we get to the kissing and the woohooing. Got to approach the ladies slow-like, not spook them.”

“Uh huh,” Hana said. “Life lessons from The Sims. We’re all learning something tonight. I learned that the Grim Reaper and Hanzo have a lot in common, that Jamie isn’t housebroken, and that Lucio is super flammable.”

Lucio chuckled, wrapping both arms around her shoulders and kissing her neck, leaning to look through the pictures as well. ���I died for a noble cause.”

Junkrat sighed dreamily. “I learned how many times I gotta compliment Mei for woohoo. Gotta try to remember that for later…”

“You know,” she suggested. “There’s more stuff you can do in this game besides death and woohoo? I mean you can have babies and get jobs and raise pets and all kinds of stuff. You can also dress everyone in hot dog outfits and make a prison compound where they are forced to make paintings and write erotic novels to fund your efforts to make one hundred babies with everyone in town.”

The two boys stared at her.

“But uh…How about we make a new household instead and I’ll show you the rest of the game, Jamie?”

“Can’t believe you were holdin’ out on me. This is the best game I ever heard of. Yeah, show me more Sims! Woohoo!”

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 8

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Chapter 8 - Worry

Dally was gone again, but he had instructed Ponyboy to tell her that he’d keep his promise. After making fun of her for a while, Two-Bit decided that they should probably leave, too. His mother had gotten home early and called to let them know that she was making dinner for them.

After dinner, Rae did her homework while Two-bit talked her ear off. At first she tried to get him to focus on his own work, but in the end she just tuned him out. Once she was done, they sat on the floor in the front room in their pajamas, playing poker with the television running in the background. Around midnight Rae yawned and stretched her arms out, then decided they should probably get some sleep.

In the morning, Rae got up early and hopped in the shower. When she was dried off, she threw on her clothes, combed out her hair, and quickly inspected her face in the mirror. The swelling on her cheek was gone- and thankfully, her father hadn’t smacked her hard enough to leave a bruise. The cut was still there, but it was scabbed over and was healing nicely. Once she’d met her own eyes, though, a shiver of disgust ran up her spine and she turned away.

She went back to Two-Bit's room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for her.

“There’s still some time,” Rae started. “How about some eggs?” He shrugged.

“Sure.”

“Fried or scrambled?”

“You choose.”

As she cooked their breakfast, Two-Bit set the table with a couple of plates, silverware, glasses, and a pitcher of orange juice. The smell of the eggs frying on the stove made Rae’s stomach rumbled. It seemed so insignificant- but it was a start.

Morning classes went as normal; nothing new. She let the greaser girl behind her in English trim the split-ends from her hair and even out the length while their teacher droned on in his dull monotone about some boring book called The Yearling. In Math, the Socs she’d shot spitballs at the day before put a chewed-up piece of gum in her hair as they were filing out of the room when class was over. And so the silent war continued.

Rae stood before the bathroom mirror, trying to fish it out of her hair. Thankfully, they hadn’t stuck it in too high so if she had to cut it out, she wouldn’t lose much length.

A few minutes after the next bell rang - thank God it was lunch- the red-headed Soc from the skating rink entered the restroom, her curls bouncing on her shoulders.

“Hey,” she greeted Rae, her voice light and her smile soft.

“Hi?” Rae said, absolutely unsure why this rich girl was talking to her. The girl stopped and leaned her backside against the sink next to hers.

“I’m Cherry,” she offered, her cheeks going pink against her pristine complexion. “I, uh, just wanted to apologize to you for the other night- my boyfriend, he-”

“It’s cool,” Rae shot back at her, quickly. “Shit happens all the time when you’re from my side of town.” Cherry hesitated for a moment, the small smile on her face disappearing.

“I wish that weren’t true,” she confessed, looking down at the white porcelain. Rae shut the water off and turned to face her.

“Don’t you? You’re still with him even knowing how he treats us. If he treats us so badly, how exactly does he treat you?” she inquired, a bit more harshly than she’d meant. “Is there something I can help you with, Cherry, was it?”

“I just felt really bad about it is all.”

“Well, thanks for the apology, I guess.” Rae lifted her backpack to her shoulder. “I need to get going.” She started heading for the door. She’d just have to deal with the gum later.

“Cooking oil,” Cherry said.

“Sorry?”

“For the gum,” she explained, pointing to the wad in her hair. She offered another muted smile.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” And she was out the door.

Rae contemplated the conversation she’d just had as she headed to meet her friends for lunch. It was a nice, sunny day, so they opted to sit outside on the front steps of the school. Two-Bit’s mother had thrown together a lunch for the both of them so they wouldn’t have to buy.

“It that gum?” Johnny asked her as she tore her sandwich in half and leaned in to hand it to him, the pink lump sticking out against her dark hair.

“Yeah. Revenge for yesterday’s spitballs, no doubt. Here, eat this.” He took the food, gratefully, and bit into it.

“It looks stuck in there pretty good- I hope you don’t gotta chop it off,” he said, mouth full of bread.

“Someone in the bathroom gave me a tip that I’m gonna try after school.” Two-Bit cracked open the beer he’d snuck into his lunch bag that morning on their way out.

“Who?” he asked, taking a sip.

“Drinkin’ at school now, Two-Bit?” Pony asked, who received a shove in return.

“Shoot, kid, school’s boring. Gotta do somethin’ to make it interesting.” He took a large swallow and nodded in Rae’s direction. “Anyway, who was it?”

“Uh- that red-head from the roller rink the other night? That asshole’s girlfriend, I guess.”

“You better watch it around her,” Johnny warned. “That guy was the guy who…” His voice trailed off as he looked down at his legs.

“That was him?” Rae asked, incredulously. “If I’d known that, I’da beat the shit outta him right there.”

“No, it’s alright-”

“It is not okay, Johnny Cade.” She huffed. “He looked like a damn wimp, anyway.” She polished off her Coke, trying to calm herself. “She seemed nice, though. Genuine, I guess.”

“Who really knows with them?” Ponybody asked.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she responded and clanked her soda bottle against his. The bell rang, marking the end of lunch. Two-Bit shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.

“Well, let’s get this over with.”

After school, Two-Bit drove them all to the DX to see Steve and Soda. While Soda took Two-Bit and Pony to the back to show them the tuff car he was working on, Rae climbed onto the hood of the car to soak in the sunlight. Johnny leaned up against the front bumper. Steve walked up to them, face and shirt streaked with car oil.

"Heard 'bout you and Curly," he said, with a wide, stupid grin. Rae’s cheeks went red.

“Why ya’ll gotta make fun of me? It can’t be a surprise since I’m apparently the last one to know,” she muttered. He chuckled and popped open the Pepsi bottle he was carrying. He handed it to Johnny.

"Hey, Johnnycake," Steve greeted, clapping him on the back. “Could ya run to the back with Soda for a few?”

“Yeah, sure,” Johnny answered and took off for the garage, knocking the drink back as he walked. Steve took his place, leaning onto the car, close to Rae.

"I've been meanin' to talk to ya.”

"If you’re gonna give me the same talk you gave to Johnny- I heard that one too and I’m well aware of-”

"No, no, that ain’t it," Steve persisted. “I’m just worried- we all are-”

“Please, Steve,” she pleaded, rubbing her temples. “I don’t want to go there. Not right now.”

“Kid, just hear me out.” She sighed, but let him go on. "When somethin’ like this happens to one of us, it affects us all, ya know. Of course ya know. You've probably heard all this before." Rae crossed her legs and hunched over, leaning on her elbows. "I can’t believe this happened to one of our own. We-I just want to make sure you’re okay."

"Everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay,” she remarked, staring a hole into her jeans. “It just pisses me off more.” And she was feeling more irritated by the second.

“Look, Rae,” Steve started, lifting himself off the car and turning to face her. He pulled a rag out of his pocket and started wiping his dirty hands off. “You’re part of our family. You’re a great sister and friend. And as much as that kid annoys the hell outta me, the one right thing Pony has done in his life is look up to you-”

"I ain’t that special," she argued, unconvinced. “I don’t got a clue why anyone would look up to me.”

"Why not? I know that you an’ Dally are a lot alike, but you’re still the best of us all.”

“I don’t think I’m as good as you think I am.”

“You don’t drink. You don’t smoke. You don’t cheat-” She slid off the hood of the car and leaned her forehead against the cool brick of the station building next to her. Her heart was hammering in her ears, louder with every new praise Steve could think of before-

"That night, I was running away," she admitted to him, keeping her voice as calm as she could. “Some role model I turned out to be.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person,” Steve told her.

“It makes me weak.” She hated being weak.

There was silence between them for what seemed like an eternity. She stood up straight again, but glowered at the bricks rather than face her friend.

“How could you think that?” He sounded like he was at a loss for words. “A lot of people don’t come back from somethin’ like this. But you-”

“Please, just lay off it.” The simmering rage inside her was starting to heat up again. Her mood swings were really starting to worry her, but she couldn’t seem to help it. Sure, she had her brother’s anger towards life but she wasn’t as volatile as he was. At least, she didn’t use to be.

“I won’t, Rae. I can’t. You’ve never been weak- Dally’s made sure of that. Just because you need help sometimes doesn’t mean-”

Without thinking, she slammed her balled up fist against the brick. She gasped at the pain. When she pulled her hand a way, small flecks of blood stained the wall.

“Shit!” Steve jumped up and was at her side in an instant, cradling her bloody hand in his. She stared down in shock at what she’d done. Her friend was talking again- but his voice sounded muffled in her ears.

“Steve, please, just…,” she begged, the roar in her head growing louder. Before she could finish, she slid her hand out of his and jogged off, away from the gas station, Steve calling after her. She was trying to be okay but she was definitely failing.

Rae knew she shouldn’t have gone off alone. It’s never safe for a solo greaser, especially a girl. She would have expected, even relished, a Soc attack. She could really blow off some steam.

What she didn’t anticipate, though, was a familiar voice saying, “Surprise, bitch” before stars burst in her vision and she blacked out.

[sippin-on-red-wine]

Frenzy | A One-Shot

Title: Frenzy Author: @sippin-on-red-wine​ Rating: Mature Word Count:  6,241 (Get Cozy) Author’s Note: Another one-shot born from a few different requests. If this was your request and I satisfied your, um, needs… drop me a line!

As always, feedback of any kind is appreciated. It really inspires your girl here!

You cursed under your breath as you collected your luggage from the carousel, angrily wheeling it out toward the airport entrance in hopes of flagging a cab.

Your flights had been delayed due to bad weather. You were supposed to be here hours ago, should have had plenty of time to get to Ed’s New York flat and get… reacquainted before needing to head out to this party. You had called and spoken to him during your layover and he had genuinely pouted into the phone – you’d been apart for quite some time, and you were both bursting at the seams to be together again. He insisted you skip the party, then, and just take the night to yourselves. But she was one of his best friends, and you knew Ed would regret not going. “Baby,” you had told him, “We’ve got a little more than two weeks together once I get there. Just go to the party and I’ll meet you there as soon as I can, okay?” And after a little more convincing, and a hint at all the hot hanky panky you’d have for the next two weeks, he reluctantly agreed.

So here you were, wheeling your baggage through the crowded airport, desperate for a quick shower and a bite to eat. You hail a cab and travel to Ed’s flat, the one he keeps for when he’s here in the city. You’ve got your own key, and so you let yourself in; exhausted, starving, and feeling a little dead inside from having spent the entire day sitting around airports instead of in Ed’s arms.

You drop all your bags in the foyer of the modern apartment. You fell in love with the space the first time Ed brought you here - it had that cool, trendy vibe, but it wasn’t all whites and grays and metals (like most ‘modern’ interiors. It was warm, earthy tones - some wood and brick, yes, but soft textiles thrown in as well, and beautiful artwork adorning every surface (thanks to Ed’s father). There was a massive stone fireplace in the living area, yellow-toned lighting in every room and the overall effect was quite cozy.

Making a beeline for the fridge (need food), you find that Ed had taken the time to stock all of your favorites: you find several bottles of your favorite Rosé chilling; different cheeses, cherry tomatoes, grapes & strawberries. You pull out a little of everything, including the wine, and get to work making a quick snack plate that you plan to devour as you get ready for the party.

You kick off your jeans, abandoning them on the floor in the kitchen, making a mental note to pick them back up before you head out. Ed had the apartment cleaned spotlessly. Your heart kind of swells, beating down the grumpiness you’ve been holding onto from a frustrating day of traveling. You picture him, gathering up your favorite foods and wine, meticulously cleaning up the apartment, excited for your arrival.

It’s been weeks since you’ve held that sexy, sweet man in your arms. Fuck the snacks, need to get my ass in gear, you muse as you head into the master bedroom’s walk-in closet. You have a small wardrobe here, and so you quickly browse through for something to wear to the party. Your slightly sour attitude has you favoring something sassy; so you opt for an old rock band t-shirt dress, a black choker, distressed denim jacket and these gorgeous over-the-knee boots in a deep crimson color. You head into the bathroom, throwing on a winged eyeliner and a nude lipstick. You toss your long hair up into a high pony and your look is complete.

PING! Your cell goes off. It’s Ed, of course, checking in on your whereabouts.

*If you’re not here by midnight, I’m coming home. I turn into a pumpkin at midnight. I already have pumpkin-coloured hair so let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Love you x

You chuckle, grabbing a handful of grapes left from your snack plate and head toward the elevator. Down, down, down to ground level and you’re hailing a cab. “Greenwich Hotel, please,” you tell the driver as you pull your phone out to tap back a response to Ed. You reconsider, however, deleting the message and opting for the element of surprise.

The ride over to the Greenwich gives you time to catch your breath for what feels like the first time all day. You sigh as you watch the blur of storefronts and streetlights and people littering the sidewalks. Butterflies float in your tummy at the thought of seeing Ed again. Personally, you would have preferred to spend your first night back in town at home, alone, with him. With little to no clothing involved.

But alas, your cab is pulling up in front of the corner brick building that is the Greenich Hotel. You tip generously as you exit, spilling out onto the New York street. You quickly nip into the hotel, giving your name to the PR person handling the event, and are whisked into the elevator and up to the seventh (and top) floor.

It’s really beautiful, all arched doorways and glass-pane partitions. The space is large, but flows well; it must be the entire expanse of this floor? There’s a courtyard set in the center of the floor, large stone arch ways lining the perimeter. And that’s where you spot Ed, he’s sort of hard to miss after all. You saunter through one of the arches onto the little terrace; paved with large flat stones, ivy crawling up the cream colored brick. There are strings of lights out here, the terrace peppered with idyllic mis-matched patio furniture.

Ed is talking BIG with his hands, obviously excited about whatever the topic of choice is. You don’t recognize the man he’s engaged in conversation with, though many of the other party guests have already caught your eye, various musicians and Hollywood-types. You do nothing more than shrug a shoulder at them, though – you’ve found your target. You lean up against the brick for a minute or so, just admiring him from afar. He’s got on a gorgeous blue button-up plaid shirt, the top two buttons are undone, and you can just see the lion tat on his chest peeking through. His hair is long, almost too long – and he’s got the scruffy face to match. His sleeves are cuffed back on his forearms a bit, and he’s got a highball glass in his hand.

It’s perfect timing, the conversation seems to be dying down a bit, and you choose that moment to walk stealthily up behind him. The man he’s talking to sees you coming, and does you a solid by not acknowledging your presence.

You smell him before he’s technically within your reach, that familiar scent of his favorite cologne wafting up and tickling your senses. You pause for a beat to revel in the scent, and some of the memories associated with it. It’s so indelibly Ed.

Your hands connect with his hips as you tuck your head up behind his right ear and whisper, “Hi baby,” and you expect him to jump out of his skin a bit, but it’s almost like his body instinctively knows your touch, knew it before your hands were even technically on him. He spins around, pulling you into an embrace, his bewitching blue eyes affixed on your face, drinking you in.

He releases you briefly, extending a hand out to the man he was talking to before. “Sorry, mate, can we catch up in a bit?” and of the man has a twinkle in his eye as he responds, “Of course,” before patting Ed on the shoulder and walking away.

Ed sets his cocktail down on a nearby bench and holds his hands out to clasp yours, drawing you into his body. His hands push down your back until they rest on your ass, yours naturally go up and around his neck as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you, love,” he purrs into your ear when your lips finally break apart. “And may I say? You look good enough to eat.”

Is your golden boy complimenting your appearance, or prefacing the sexy times to come? Both, you decide, as you flash him a dazzling smile and ruffle your hands through his fluffy curls.

“Looking pretty dapper, yourself, Teddy.” You reply, tugging gently on the few inches of his shirt that are agape at the top. He knows full-well how much you love when he wears his shirt like this; maybe because you’ve told him so - oh, maybe about a hundred times? You’re thinking it’s by no accident that he’s dressed himself that way tonight.

“I see you stopped at home to change?” he asks, and your heart flutters at the word home. He’d had the apartment before the two of you have even met, but he just drops the word so nonchalantly, like of course it’s your home, too. “Those boots look much more impressive on these legs than they do sitting on the shelf, I must say,” his hands running over the divide where flesh meets suede, a few inches above your knees.

“Why, thank you. And yes, I tornado-ripped through the apartment quickly – sorry, I’ve just remembered that I left my pants on the kitchen floor,” you say with a frown, upset with yourself that you’d mussed the flat up after he had painstakingly made everything perfect for you.

A blonde eyebrow cocks up on his face, sudden interest blooming over his features. “You took your pants off in the kitchen? Without me?”

You laugh, reaching up to push a stray cinnamon-gold tendril from his forehead, his hands still openly grabbing your ass. “You’ve nothing to be jealous about Teddy, I just needed some snacks and a quick gulp of Rosé – thank you, for those, by the way.”

“Anything for my girl,” he says with a sly grin before lowering his lips down to yours again. “Can I get you something to drink?”

You nod, and he leads you by the hand over to the long bar that lines one of the oak shiplapped walls, crossing under the big stone archway again.

He catches the bartender’s eye right away, and he quickly orders two vodka-sodas, one with lime – “EXTRA lime for the lady, please!” He exclaims, and you can’t help but beam. The travel delays and irritation and exhaustion all flood away. He cherishes you, there’s no other word for it. You wonder what you did to deserve someone like him.

Your bodies are angled into each other’s as you wait at the bar for your drinks. Ed’s leaning on his left elbow, while his right hand rests firmly on your hip.

“So glad you’re here, love.” He says, daydream-like.

You lean into his body, acutely aware of your breasts pressing into his chest, and you leave a soft kiss on his cheek. “Me, too, baby.”

You collect your drinks and walk away from the bar. Ed falls behind you and you can practically feel his eyes drinking in your appearance. And to be honest, you are feeling yourself tonight. Kind of surprising given the day you’ve had, not to mention that you kind of just… whipped everything together, slapped on some eyeliner and tugged your hair up into a ponytail. Must be the boots, you muse, and walk out to the dance floor.

Ed trails closely behind you as you weave in and around some of the partygoers to get to the center of the crowd, thick bass pumping in the air all around you. You take a long swallow of your vodka-soda, and spin around to face him. You feel like he may regret the drink he’s currently holding, because it means he can only get one hand on you properly. But he makes the best of it, pulling your waist in with his free hand, your legs intertwining with his so that his left leg is tucked neatly between both of your boot-clad ones as your hand floats to his lower back to hold him extra close.

Your hips are pressed together, swaying in time with the music. Ed tilts his head down to yours until you are forehead-to-forehead, and you want to close the rest of the distance and place your lips on his – but you resist. His hold on your lower back drops a little further south, Ed grabs a handful of your booty as he pushes your pelvis in even closer to his body and your t-shirt dress rides up a bit until your lace panties are pressing up against the rough denim of his thigh and oh, holy shit your clit is grinding against him.

Does he realize? Was that intentional? You’re not sure, until you see the sly grin paint across his face. “Feel good?” he mouths at you, the loud dance music drowning out any chance of hearing his voice. You nod, both arms wrapped around his waist as you press yourself into his thigh, the delicious friction building a fire low in your belly. To anyone else, it just looks like you’re dancing.

You feel his erection press into your left thigh and God, how you wish you were somewhere private right now.

But you’re far from that, literally surrounded by sweaty bodies on all sides. Ed’s strawberry lips are parted, his eyes transfixed on your face as he watches for your reaction. You try not to give anything away – you don’t think anyone would notice, but still…

The song changes, but the beat stays the same, and Ed’s hand on your ass encourages you to ride the hell out of his thigh, you can feel your lace panties dampen, feel the course denim through the mesh parts of them, you’re rubbing your clit against his leg, up and down, up and down. You bite your bottom lip, glancing down at his thigh between your legs, the hem of your dress pushed up slightly as you see just a tiny glimpse of your panties, the point of action, the epicenter of the pleasure that’s coursing through you right now. It had been WEEKS since you had felt his touch – maybe if it hadn’t, you wouldn’t be close to climaxing right here on the dance floor, in the center of the crowd.

But, alas - you are. And Ed knows it, he can read it on your face, in your body language, the tension in your torso where he’s got an arm wrapped around. You snake your left hand up to the bit of flesh peeking out where his top buttons are undone, lightly scratching over the lions mane as you keep grinding onto him, the sensations making you a bit dizzy. You root your hand in the dampened curls at the nape of his neck, pulling his head down slightly so that your lips are pressed to his ears and you still nearly have to shout for him to hear, “Gonna come, Teddy.”

But the message is bright & clear, his mouth pressed to your ear as well, and his hand helps rock your body against his in just the right rhythm, until you’re climbing – your legs go fuzzy and you suck in a sharp breath and hold it there, frantically grinding against him for those last few delicious seconds until it all come crashing down and you can’t help but cry out, into his ear, the sound going unnoticed by all those around you.

He takes your jaw in his hand and pulls your lips to his mouth, his tongue pushing in, cold from the ice in his cocktail. He kisses you slowly, helping you come down from your naughty high. When your lips pull apart, his twist up into a very smug-looking grin. He’s clearly pleased with himself.

You finish out that song on the dance floor, blissed-out to the max, before he takes you by the hand and leads you away, back outside to the courtyard, under the strings of yellow lights.

However risky and naughty that orgasm was, it doesn’t offer you much relief. You’d like to get your hands on his bare skin, trace the edges of his tattoos one by one until he’s begging you for more. Poor boy, you think as you realize his erection is still evident behind the fly of his jeans, even with as little light as there is out here. You’re thinking that, at this point, it shouldn’t take much convincing for you two to get the hell out of here and get properly reacquainted.

But your plan is thwarted as you pass a group of six or seven people, gathered around a bar-height table, a deep stone ledge surrounding the glass rectangle filled with those glass fire-stones, flames flickering and dancing over them. They call out to Ed, “Hey! Come have a drink with us!” and he glances sideways at you, as if to say, “Just for a minute?”

You join them at the table, Ed offering you the last barstool. You politely decline, insisting you’d rather stand – but you’ve got other ideas in mind. You sidle up to the little bar and Ed introduces you to everyone there, though you recognize a few. He stands just behind you, wrapping his arm around your body to keep you pressed close to him. The group was previously engrossed in a deep conversation about some new movie that’s coming out, and you try to look interested and engaged in the conversation… which is a hard thing to do when all you can picture is the way Ed’s hair will be peeking out between your thighs later…..

You discreetly tuck a hand down behind you, shielded from view by the height of the bar and cup his erection, which has not lost any momentum since leaving the dance floor behind. You give him a decent squeeze and he’s mid-sentence, talking about what’s-his-face in the upcoming whatever-movie-it-is. Ed literally gulps in the middle of a word, but recovers quickly.

You step out in front of him, wedging your ass up against his groin, kind of pushing back on him. Someone at the other end of the table is talking now, the attention shifted down that way, and Ed just takes a moment to wrap both arms around you and breathe softly into your hair as he subtly pushes his erection up against your ass…

“Why don’t you say we get out of here, love?”

In reality, the apartment was a short cab ride away. But in your current state, reunited after weeks and having had a naughty moment in a very public place, the cab ride feels like a LIFETIME.

You wanted to straddle the hell out of him in the backseat of the taxi, but you were both showing a miraculous amount of will-power. You’re scooched apart as far as you can be, both of you pressing your bodies up against the doors on either side.

“I’m sorry you had a bad travel day, lovey,” he murmurs, the hormonal need just dripping off of him.

“Worth it, Teddy….”

“Are you terribly tired?”

“Not. In. The. Slightest.”

“Good… I’ve got big plans to celebrate your homecoming,” he reaches out to trail his fingers down your thigh. “All. Night. Long, baby.”

Ed seems awfully distracted by your hand, currently tucked down the front of his pants, squeezing and stroking his erection over top of his boxer briefs as he’s fuddling with the lock on the door, trying at least three different keys before finally getting the right one.

You’re no more than barely inside when Ed kicks the door shut behind him and immediately drops to the floor in front of you, ripping your panties down from under your dress.

He’s backed you up against the wall, nudging himself between your boot-clad legs before he dives into your pussy, sucking on your lips and nudging your clit with his nose as you literally gasp for air, shaky on your feet, and you try to sound convincing as you mutter, “Take me to bed, Teddy.”

But apparently, he’s got other plans.

“Not yet, sweetheart… but I will fuck you on every surface of this damn apartment on the WAY to bed.”

Oh.

He’s up on his feet, shedding his jeans before he spins you around by the shoulders. “Hands on the wall, spread these thighs for me, love….” his voice is low and husky know and sounds low-key dangerous.

But you do exactly as he says, fingers splayed out on the wall, legs spread apart and you push your ass out toward him as he bunches your dress up around your waist and without any warning, he’s there, his stiff cock aligning with your entrance and pushing in - no foreplay, no lead-up (unless you count the last couple of hours at the party, which you do).

“Ed!” you cry out as he shifts all the way inside of you, you’re up on your tiptoes and his hands are grabbing at the flesh of that place where hips-meet-ass and he rocks up inside of you, grunting and groaning. “Fuck me, baby,” you spit.

He takes your words to heart, thrusting more vigorously up into you and he smacks your ass. “Like this, baby girl?” he asks, and you just moan in reply.

A few strokes later and he pulls out, turning you back to face him. His eyes are laser focused on your face and you reach for him, pulling him into a kiss as he grabs two handfuls of ass and hoists you up, your arms and legs wrapping around him for stability as he carries you into the living room.

He sets you down, flipping you back around and bending you over the back of the sofa, lining up again with your slick entrance before he thrusts his cock up inside of you. You reach down and brace yourself on the couch cushions as he finds his rhythm, those sexy-as-hell growly moans falling from his mouth again almost instantly.

“So tight for me, love…”

You spy the high-back chair with matching ottoman at the other side of the room and a brilliant idea blooms in your mind.

“Teddy? Can we…?” You ask, pointing over to the chair. He tucks a hand over your stomach and pulls you back upright, pulling out of your wet pussy as he growls his approval at you.

You cross the room and shift the ottoman, turning it sideways lengthwise, and pushing it up to the edge of the chair. You push Ed down onto the little makeshift bed so that he’s lying flat on his back, the ottoman supporting his body from his ass and up, his feet flat on the floor.

“C’mere, baby….” He coos, slipping his fingers into yours as you straddle him, reaching down to grip his thick cock, guiding it into you. You sink down on him, taking him in slowly, his mouth spewing soft little ahhs and mmms as you start to raise and lower yourself off of him, your feet both planted firmly on the floor.

While his jeans were shed in the hallway, he’s still got his damn button-up shirt on. Must fix that.

Ed has been manhandling you this whole time and so you figure it’s time for a little payback. You sink down on his shaft, rocking and tilting your hips as you rip his shirt open - little buttons popping off and flying in either direction, the look on Ed’s face is just ace as soon as he realizes what you’ve done. He approves.

His chest is fully exposed now and you celebrate by lightly dragging your nails down his entire torso. He grabs at your hips once again to get you back into your rhythm, which you find in no time. You’re coming down on him pretty hard, and the sounds of skin colliding with skin and breaths and moans fill the room and echo off the walls.

You find your pace and really get in tune with it, your bodies working in perfect synchronization as you revel in the feeling of being in control – and being filled to the brim. It’s exactly what you’ve been craving after all these weeks apart, and the slow burn of the night at the party. Your confidence is soaring.

“Do you like it when I ride you like this, Teddy?”

“Jesus – fuck, yes,” he pants out.

“Tell me.”

“…feels so fucking good, baby girl…”

His words encourage you and you increase your speed, leaning down into your hands which are placed on his chest, right over the great lion in all his beauty.

Ed’s holding his breath, his eyes are closed, “w-wait, slower, slow down, I don’t … wanna… not yet,” he’s gasping, trying to fight off his impending orgasm.

“Just come for me, Teddy.”

“Not – yet –,” he insists, and his hands on your hips are actually trying to slow you down now. But you’ve already gotten one orgasm tonight, and poor Ed has been on edge all evening. After being away from each other for a few weeks, you were certain he really needed that release.

And so you push his hands away from you, pinning his arms back like he does so often to you, your small hands holding down his biceps are surely no true strength-match, but it gets the point across that you have no intentions of slowing and the realization spreads over his face and it’s not but four or five thrusts later and he’s crying out your name, pushing his hips up into you as hard as he can.

You slow your movements, releasing his arms and he immediately reaches for you and draws you down into his chest. You’re both breathing heavily, and Ed pulls your t-shirt up further so that a bit of your belly is exposed and you’re pressing skin-to-skin as he kisses your forehead.

“Love, I’m sorry, I thought I could hold out longer…”

“Shhh, Teddy, it’s –”

“It’s not ‘OK’, I didn’t even get you off yet,” he grumbles.

“I already did, earlier, at the party,” you protest.

“You deserve better than that, love… come on, let’s go to bed, I’ve got something for you…”

Ed sits you down on the edge of the bed, kneeling on the ground before you as he unzips each of your tall boots, peeling them away and freeing your legs. He laughs at your Mickey Mouse socks, “You goof,” he chuckles before he takes each of those off, too. He shrugs off his button up shirt - what’s left of it, anyway. He rises up from the floor, grabbing at the hem of your t-shirt dress and lifting it up and over your head, discarding it casually on the plush carpeting. Another quick beat passes and he’s unclasped your bra, unthreading it from your arms.

“Go on then, get up on the bed properly, love. Get comfy,” he gives you a peck on the forehead and you scoot up to the center of the bed, tons of pillows propping you up. Ed adjusts the lighting, keeping it pretty dim, and disappears briefly into the walk-in closet (giving you a great view of his little round tush).

He comes back holding a little black box and you start to get butterflies low in your belly. Is that…?

Ed crawls up toward you on the bed, black satin box in tow.

“Come here, kitten,” he sets the box down and lowers his body onto yours, his lips finding your mouth and leaving a soft, sensual kiss there as his hand runs down your stomach, over your hip bones, trailing over your slit before he sinks a single finger inside. “Can I play with you?” He asks, that signature smirk on his face.

“Ya-huh,” it pops out of your mouth before you realize it’s probably not the sexiest option.

“Excellent,” he sits back on his heels and pulls your pelvis up into his lap so that it’s at an upward angle. You adjust your pillows slightly until you’re perfectly relaxed and comfortable.

He traced the outline of your slit, admiring what is now fully on display for him.

“Look at you, love….” He breathes, just barely loud enough for you to hear. He’s got concentration written all over his face and you lie there, admiring his fluffy mop of hair and the scruff that covers his face so generously, he trims it less often now (per your request).

Ed reaches down to retrieve the little box, pulling out a velvety-looking drawstring bag and a small bottle of an amber-colored liquid.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask.

He tugs open the cinched top and pulls out a vibrator, black soft-touch silicone, maybe about five inches long, the very top curling upwards.

“This is… a.. um, it’s a G-spot toy? It has lots of different settings, and, um, I’ve got this tingly lube stuff you’re supposed to use with it…”

Is he actually blushing?

“Can I use it on you, kitten?”

You bite your lip and nod. Truth is, you’re a little nervous – you’ve only ever used a bullet vibrator on your clit, never something inside. But the thought of Teddy controlling it, essentially fucking you with it…. You don’t quite understand why, but it’s really turning you on.

You hear the click of the little bottle as Ed takes a little on his middle finger, then lowers it down to run up and down your slit. It’s a bit warming, but not too hot – it’s got a nice tingle. He adds a bit more to the tip of the toy, spreading it over it’s smooth length with his hand. When he’s done, he rubs the excess from his hand onto his own shaft which, while not completely erect again (yet), is still quite impressive.

He clicks the vibrator on, the first setting just a low and steady buzz. He runs it over your clit first and it makes you jump a little bit, it’s quite strong. This makes Ed giggle, and he presses down above your mound and whispers, “Easy, darlin’.”

The soft tip of the toy floats down over your glistening slit, as Ed very carefully manipulates the toy.

His eyes are trained on your pink lips, mostly, but he glances up to your face to get the “go-ahead” before he goes in.

You shake your head 'yes’ and he smiles, his eyes fixed on you for your reaction as he lets the toy sink inside of you.

“Feels good, yeah?” He asks, that shit grin still painted across his face as he watches you, the pleasure evident in your face as the vibrations hit you from the inside out.

He’s got it all the way in, now, and that curled tip is pressing firmly on your very front wall. He starts to move the toy, deliriously slowly, letting you get accommodated to the feel of the foreign object.

“Want the next setting, love?”

“Yes, please.”

You’ve piqued his interest, his blonde eyebrow cocking high on his face. You know he’s got a manners thing.

“Good girl….”

He clicks the vibe to the next setting, which is about the same intensity but in low, rolling waves. You watch the flick of his wrist as he begins fucking you with the toy. The friction seems to have activated the lube which is now tingling a bit more intensely.

Each full stroke in has that curved head hitting your front wall with a soft thud, the tip dragging out with each pass.

“Next setting, please…”

He’s quick on the controls, the next speed is an even stronger vibration, this time the pattern is like a bzz, bzzz, bzzzzzz and it’s got your knees quivering a bit, your legs wrapping tighter around Ed’s waist as he fucks you with the toy, staring down explicitly at your pussy as he does so.

Something about watching him, he’s got your hips all pulled up into his lap, his deft fingers handling the vibrator, concentration painted all across his face… it’s really fucking hot, and paired with the vibrations beating on your delicate tissues, the push-and-pull of the toy – you know it’s not going to last too much longer.

And then he goes and backs up, laying your pelvis down flat on the bed as he drops to his tummy in front of you, all propped up on his rainbow arms, and he lowers his mouth to the top of your slit. He’s still fucking your warm, wet hole with the vibe, but you watch as he looks up and locks eyes with you, then drops his tongue to your clit.

Your hips take over, bucking and writhing and squirming under this assault of all your senses. His flattened tongue is warm as he flicks your clit, the head of the toy bumping up against that elusive place, the movement of his bicep as he works the toy in and out of you.

You can’t help but to let the moan escape your lips, tension now building deep down in your belly.

You bring your hands up to your tits, pulling and rubbing on them, brushing your thumbs over your nipples and your moaning gets louder, the slow, constant build growing with each moment that passes.

Ed clicks up to the next speed and you swear, the vibration intensity doubles. Your grab fistfuls of his gorgeous ginger curls, needing to ground yourself somehow before it all gets too overwhelming.

But Ed takes your hair-grabbing as a sign that you want more, need more, and he switches his strategy from flicking to sucking and his lips come down around your clit, sucking at you as the toy vibrates inside, lighting up all your nerve endings on each pass.

Your toes curl and you dig your heels into the mattress, shoving your hips up toward the wiry scruff on his face and you hold your breath for just a brief moment before the warmth is spreading, your thigh muscles contracting, your fingers tugging at his beautiful hair as you fall over the cliff, crying out.

Your orgasm is at its peak when Teddy takes the toy away, and he’s pushing your hip, rolling you onto your side as he sidles up next to you in bed. Your thighs are clamped shut, still riding out the waves of your climax when you feel the thick mushroom head of his cock pressing up against your entrance, his left hand squeezing your breast as he whispers, “Need you, love, that was so fuckin hot…”

“OH, Teddy, yes….”

The toy was nice, and watching Ed control it had been sexy as fuck, but nothing beat the feel of his warm, rigid shaft pressing up and into your body. Especially coupled with this spooning position, all of his skin pressed against yours, the most you had touched all night.

His thrusts were much slower and more deliberate than before, as he kissed and sucked at your neck, breaking away to moan your name or drop a breath in your ear.

“So… fuckin… tight, wet – Fuck,” he was basically just a dirty stream of moans and groans and filthy words in your ear as his cock rocked you from behind, as you arched your back to press your hips to his.

He laces his fingers into yours, and moves your hand down to the warm apex between your legs. He’s moving your fingers, now, tapping over your clit – still sensitive from your orgasm.

“Teddy, no, I can’t – again,”

“Please, baby? Want you to come with me…”

God damnit, you want to give him what he wants. But you honestly don’t think you can, your body is so wrecked and over stimulated right now. You close your eyes and breathe, focusing on his vibrant arm wrapped around you, the feeling of his scruffy beard on your neck as he kisses and licks and sucks and nips at your earlobe, his tight hips fucking you from behind.

“C’mon kitten, one more? Wanna feel you come all over my cock…”

Fuck, you want that, too. His fingers push your fingers down, grinding out little circles over your swollen clit.

“Let me have it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, and you hold your breath, clinging on to that little light at the end of the tunnel, but it just seems so far away, you don’t think you can get there…

But it’s there. And you focus on his rough hand holding your delicate one, pushing your fingers into your own clit and his thick girth inside you and his chest hair pressed against your back and before you know it, a moan is dropping from your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, you feel it, yeah?”

“Mmm, uh-huh,”

“You gonna let me have it, yeah?”

His rhythm is rock-steady, keeping in perfect time, the constant stimulation of his cock and your own fingers building you up.

“Fuck, Teddy….” you whine.

“Come for me, baby,” he instructs before sinking his teeth into your shoulder and who knew, but it’s exactly what you needed, a tiny sting of pain to push you over the edge and your orgasm hits, not as strong as the last one, but it feels good, like relief, and you feel Ed push his hips into yours as he says, “Fuck..fuck..fuck,” as he empties himself into you.

You let a few moments pass, both of your chests heaving as you recover from this intense session. You sigh as Ed brushes your hair back, off your face, pressing a gentle kiss just behind your ear.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you’d like to see next!

[alaskan-wallflower]

Tw:: Suicide and a/h mention

when the curtis parents died, the day after the funeral darry was at a job interview pretending like nothing happened. because in his mind nothing did happen. he planned the interview a week prior. his parents are still alive and well. he’s not single parenting his brothers. he’s not more of a father than a brother. he didn’t just watch his parents be buried. he didn’t. he tells himself as such. and he immediately gets the job and starts working his tail off. but he’s providing for his brothers and his parents. they’re not dead. they’re not dead. months go by and around three months later darry is in his room alone. he just heard pony say he would rather have soda stay with him at night over darry. and it stung. he felt a limp in his throat as he simply nodded. that night he sleeps with his door cracked open with the small sliver of hope that pony would choose him again. that they could go back to old times. that pony was still able to get out of bed. that soda would genuinely smile instead of putting on a forced facade because he was essentially gluing them together. he spends a few hours just staring at the ceiling before something catches his eye. his football trophy. he swears he hears his dads voice telling him “it’s gonna be okay, Junior.” and darry loses it. he closes the door and just absolutely breaks down. he shoves away all his football trophies. he doesn’t bother being careful. it’s all gone. his old life is all gone and this is going with it. he doesn’t bother being careful. his parents are home and there’s nothing he can do. after he shoves the box of now half broken football trophies away he sneaks downstairs to the liquor cabinet. he hasn’t done it much. he had gotten a bit tipsy with two big on more than one occasion but he knew that was going to be nothing like what he was about to do. he wanted closure. he wanted to feel numb. and so he grabbed the bottle of his father’s favorite that he’d let darry have a few sips from as a late teen and sneaks back upstairs and closes the door. he looks at his old football uniform. he stares at it. he remembers the nights he spent quietly crying because he didn’t think he would make it on the team, or he didn’t think they had enough money to buy a uniform. but he also remembers on his thirteenth birthday where his dad had worked double shifts the entire month and scraped together the money for a uniform. He looked on the back. “Curtis 23.” it read. he took it off the wall and held it. Then he approaches his helmet. His father had written on the inside of it. “I’m always proud of you, champ. Even when you can’t hear me say it.” and he looks into his reflection on the dark surface of the helmet.

There he sees his dad. But it isn’t his dad…it’s him. It’s his reflection. He blinks once and it fades away and all that’s left is his broken facial expression as he cups a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs as he pops the top off the liquor bottle and drinks it. it burns. but he knows in twenty minutes the pain will dull. it always did. He spots his switchblade. The one his mother had protested against him having but his father insisted he would need it. Hell, was social status so dangerous that *his own father* thought he had to carry one? The drunken haze came quicker than he thought. It hit especially hard in his empty stomach, which gurgled and churned with alcohol and dispair. He stared into the knife before thinking. They’d be better off without him. He couldn’t even hold it to whether. He had been sneaking alcohol like a grounded kid on more than one occasion. He imagined Soda and Pony sleeping in the next room. He imagined them and how they seemed to get along so well and he wished he could go back and not take his younger brothers’s clingy love for granted. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he saw red on his hands. Even in his drunken state he knew what he was trying to do. He couldn’t take living anymore. Not like this. Not without his dad. But he had to keep going. For his brothers. He was conflicted. but he pulled himself together. he bandaged his wrists sloppily and honestly didn’t even register anything until he woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, crusted blood surrounding where his throbbing wrists were and the stench of alcohol and vomit filling his room. (this was from a mini fic i wrote called blood and crust veneer)

[writersriot]

The Outsiders Queer Subtext ft. Jally - Part 10

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Still looking at the drive-in scene, and here’s just a small moment with Cherry and Pony before the Jally comes in.

Cherry was looking at me. “What’s a nice, smart kid like you running around with trash like that for?”

I felt myself stiffen. “I’m a grease, same as Dally. He’s my buddy.” (Pg 23)

I just love that even though Ponyboy doesn’t particularly like Dally, he sticks up for him when Cherry insults him. This gang of boys supports each other because no one else will, and I love them all for it.

Also, Cherry calling Dally trash doesn’t show too much interest in him, in my opinion. But she’s also a Soc and has her own reputation to uphold, so who knows.

Anyway, here comes some Jally. Cut because it’s really long and rambling about Johnny and Dally motivations that are so subtext I’m not sure where I’m coming up with them, haha.

Johnny came back then and sat down beside me. He looked around for Dally, then managed a shy “Hi” to the girls and tried to watch the movie. He was nervous, though. Johnny was always nervous around strangers. Cherry looked at him, sizing him up as she had me. Then she smiled softly, and I knew she had him sized up right.

Dally came striding back with an armful of Cokes. He handed one to each of the girls and sat down beside Cherry. “This might cool you off.”

She gave him an incredulous look; and then she threw her Coke in his face. “That might cool you off, greaser. After you wash your mouth and learn to talk and act decent, I might cool off, too.”

Dally wiped the Coke off his face with his sleeve and smiled dangerously. If I had been Cherry I would have beat it out of there. I knew that smile.

“Fiery, huh? Well, that’s the way I like ‘em.” He started to put his arm around her, but Johnny reached over and stopped him.

“Leave her alone, Dally.”

“Huh?” Dally was taken off guard. He stared at Johnny in disbelief. Johnny couldn’t say “Boo” to a goose. Johnny gulped and got a little pale, but he said, “You heard me. Leave her alone.”

Dallas scowled for a second. If it had been me, or Two-Bit, or Soda, or anyone but Johnny, Dally would have flattened him without a moment’s hesitation. You just didn’t tell Dally Winston what to do. One time, in a dime store, a guy told him to move over at the candy counter. Dally had turned around and belted him so hard it knocked a tooth loose. A complete stranger, too. But Johnny was the gang’s pet, and Dally just couldn’t hit him. He was Dally’s pet, too. Dally got up and stalked off, his fists jammed in his pockets and a frown on his face. He didn’t come back. (Pg 24-25)

This is an important moment. First, I just want to ask why Johnny didn’t see Dally when he was apparently at the concession stand at the same time, and came back to the seats right after him?? (Not suspicious at all if you’re sneaking off with your boyfriend and staggering the time you return to the group. I’m kidding. Kinda. I can totally see it, though.)

So, like, Johnny goes to sit down and immediately looks for Dally, acknowledges the girls, and watches the movie. He is literally more interested in watching the movie than flirting with girls. Same, Johnny.

Dally comes back with his bitchy attitude, and Cherry still ain’t having none of his shit. Smart girl, Cherry. But Pony recognizes that Dally is getting into a dangerous mood. And still Dally doesn’t stop bothering Cherry, instead he gets into her personal space, which is a real douchebag move.

Cue Johnny stepping in and actually physically stopping Dally. You go, Johnny. He might be scared of possible repercussions, but he confronts Dally anyway. And everyone is so shocked that Johnny would stand up to Dally like this. I’m not. This boy is a fighter, and he might be traumatized from his abusive family and being jumped by Socs, but that doesn’t stop him from standing up for himself and others.

Even Dally is apparently shocked, but he doesn’t retaliate because of Johnny’s “pet” status. According to Ponyboy, anyway. Johnny being the “pet” of the gang is a really interesting concept in and of itself. Because it may well be true, in more ways than one, but that doesn’t entirely explain this moment. Sure, Dally may not do anything because Johnny is his friend. In fact, Dally doesn’t have any response to Johnny, not even a “Fuck off” like you know he’d say to anyone else. No one tells Dally what to do. Instead, he walks away without a word. Like, he won’t even say anything bad or negative to Johnny, which is pretty telling. Dally doesn’t act that way toward anyone else, and I don’t necessarily think it has to do with Johnny’s “pet” status that Pony likes to remind us about.

Also according to Ponyboy, Johnny rarely talks, so why would he choose now to speak up? Why would he choose to speak up to Dally of all people? Especially when it seems like Dally (and the other guys) pick up girls like this all the time? It can’t be the first time they’ve bothered girls, even if Johnny never participated before. I get the feeling he hasn’t, and not just because he’s shy. Because he’s still shy here, and he’s still speaking up against Dally, telling him to knock it off. So why now?

I think this can be looked at in a few different ways, bear with me, I’m almost done.

One, that Johnny is closer to Dally than Ponyboy knows about, as I’ve said before. They probably talk and hang out more than Pony knows. That he feels comfortable enough to basically scold Dally in front of other people, knowing how Dally usually reacts in situations like that, but not letting that stop him. Because Johnny does know Dally, and he knows he’s probably not in any danger from him. And Dally probably also realizes that Johnny wouldn’t say anything if he didn’t feel like Dally was crossing a line. So he sucks it up and leaves with nothing but a scowl.

Two, that Johnny could perhaps be jealous? It’s a stretch, I know. But this boy was previously more involved in the movie than the girls, but he starts paying attention when Dally comes back and goes right back to his “flirting.” I mean, I’m sure he also recognizes that it’s getting dangerous when Cherry throws the Coke in Dally’s face. But Johnny left before for the concession stand because he was embarrassed by Dally’s flirting. And then he doesn’t say or do anything until Dally tries to get physical with Cherry. Johnny stops that from happening, unequivocally. Not even Ponyboy spoke up. So really, what makes the shy boy speak up now? That he’s finally over seeing Dally flirting with girls right in front of him? I’m not even saying this is necessarily a conscious reasoning. Johnny’s probably not even aware of his feelings at this point. He just knows he wants Dally to stop messing with Cherry.

Three, that Johnny doesn’t want Dally to be a jerk, or be seen as a jerk. Which is also probably a stretch and not necessarily a conscious motivation. But we know that Johnny pretty much worships the ground Dally walks on. And in the book, we aren’t really given a reason for that because Pony’s point of view doesn’t account for it. Supposedly because Dally is tough and cool, where Johnny is shy and mild. Johnny looks up to Dally, absolutely, and with that hero-worship comes the idea that he doesn’t want his hero to be seen as a bad guy. It’s understandable. But Dally’s doing this all on his own, so the girls already think he’s a jerk. It’s a little late for Dally not to be seen like that, but it’s not too late for Johnny to get Dally to stop acting out. Which, I do think Dally is always acting out, even when it comes to his behavior with girls, as I’ve previously discussed. Maybe Johnny sees some of that, too.

I don’t know. This is my reading of this scene with Dally and Johnny, influenced by previous aspects and future instances of their relationship throughout the book. I see it pretty clearly, but not every reader does. So, what do you guys think of this scene and Johnny putting a stop to Dally’s unwanted flirting with Cherry?

I’m not done with this scene yet, probably one more part to it.

Until the next part~