#darry whump

[dynamicdiplomacy]

Surprise art for my Outsiders fic, Love's a Stubborn Fool. I've had this image of Pony and Soda's bedroom burning in my brain for weeks and now friends, you get to witness it too!

A quiet moment between Darry and Pony, after an unexpected awakening in the middle of the night.

“You can’t make promises like that.” He says matter-of-factly like it’s not the cruelest thing Darry’s ever heard from his lips. His baby brother, who used to go through the world making pinky promises with reckless abandon and a surefire grin, has had so many promises torn away from him that he doesn’t believe in them anymore.

If you haven’t read the fic yet, you can find it here:

Do not repost, adapt, or modify any of my art or writing.

[trekkiehood]

K I'm tired of having drafts I need to post something

[hellothereimaloser]

outsiders request? Sick Ponyboy and Darry and Soda caring for him? bonus points if you make ponyboy look really feverish and on the verge of tears

Lol do i get bonus points 🤩

[make-me-imagine]

Headcanons: Taking care of each other when you are hurt (Darry Curtis)

Headcanons: You taking care of him when he is hurt + Him taking care of you.

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, fighting. General whump stuff.

Requested By: @spuffyfan394

You taking care of him:

Darry getting hurt is no odd thing.

Either he roughs up his hands at work, or gets in a fight with some soc's

Even if this is a regular thing, you always gt a tight feeling in your stomach.

You'll gently take his hands in yours and clean the cuts.

You do the same with any he might have on his face as well.

Darry was used to cleaning his own wounds, and taking care of himself, so he told you not to bother when you first started dating.

But you'd watch cautiously from the bathroom door, your eyes sad as you watched him.

Eventually, after you asked if you could help so many times, he caved.

Darry felt an overwhelming amount of love for you, when you quickly began to help him.

You were gentle yet thorough, and you often asked if you were hurting him.

The love you put into helping him made him all warm inside.

Now, when he get's hurt in any way, he lets you help.

Not only because he loves the care you show for him. But because he knows it helps your anxieties to help him.

You got into the habit of listening to how he got hurt, and chastising him if it was something stupid, or a fight.

He learned early on to never lie to you. You could always tell.

When it was an accident at work, or an accident in general, you listen carefully, and furrow your brow in thought.

Darry can't help but smile, no matter how you react to how or why he got hurt.

It just shows how much you love him and how much you hate him being hurt.

So, even if he loves when you take care of him. He does try his best to avoid getting hurt, so he can avoid your sad eyes when he does.

Him taking care of you:

Darry is used to being hurt, but he is NOT used to you being hurt.

Whether it's a paper cut, or an actual injury he treats you the same.

Like a fragile doll he loves with all his heart.

Even if you are used to injuries, tough, or aren't that fussed about it, it doesn't mater. He is.

Even if he goes a bit overboard, he tries his best to care for you.

You make fun of him, or joke around about him not caring this much when he get's hurt.

But it's not the same. You are more important to him than his own health.

Darry is very loving when he is taking care of you.

Bandaging gently, applying antibiotic or medicine carefully. Placing gentle kisses where you are hurt.

Massages if you are sore or in pain. He offers to give you baths or wash your hair/body.

All the things you do for him when he is hurt, he is prepared to do in return.

And if for some reason you do not let him?

Pouty Darry.

He'll sulk in the doorway, often like you'd do to him at the beginning.

You'll joke that it's payback and he'll refrain from laughing, and put on a disappointed face, acting as though he is hurt (though it's not entirely an act)

He'll take a day off work to help you if your injury is bad. Even if you tell him not too.

If he can't be there, he asks the boys to help you out when and where they can.

So when you are hurt prepared to never be left alone for more than a few minutes. You will have someone checking up on you constantly.

xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry, @rexit-mo

Outsiders+Darry Taglist: @spuffyfan394, @locke-writes, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @sardonic-the-writer, @oliviah-25

[delilaha]

I know I already wrote a fountain au fic but in honor of whumptober I couldn't help myself with making another Enjoy!

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An au in which Pony's caught alone at the fountain and he has to fend for himself a little longer than he'd like.

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'Why did Darry have to slap me on such a cold night?' Ponyboy thought to himself, wrapping his arms around himself to conserve whatever body heat he had left. The chilly wind bit at his nose, the same wind he found refreshing when he first left the house earlier that day with Johnny. He tucked his hands underneath his arms, his nose running continuously, and he didn't know whether it was from the remnants of his tears or the cold, autumn weather.

Maybe he should just go home. He doesn't even know where he's going at this point, he's just been walking around the park aimlessly. He couldn't bring Johnny along with him, because when Pony went back home, Johnny told him he was going to crash at Two-Bit's. And not to mention, it was always dark and sketchy here at night, and never a good place for someone to be alone.

Sighing, Ponyboy turned back towards where the main roads were, near where the fountain was bubbling softly, the dying leaves piling in and around it. He took a seat on the edge of the fountain, tucking his hands under his legs and staring down at his scuffed-up converse.

'Why did Darry do that?' Pony asked himself as he willed the tears that were pooling in his eyes to not fall. He knew that was a stupid question, and how childish it sounded. He felt like a five year old, sitting there staring at his feet and crying because his big brother hurt his feelings. He didn't have it half as bad as any of the gang did, he knew that. And he felt terrible for taking it like a brat. But... gosh, know one's ever hit him like that, nevermind his family. He's been punched around by a bully, but that was expected. Not from his brother.

Pony always imagined it would occur at some point, though. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and tonight was just the straw that broke the camel's back. He should've just made Johnny come home with him or something right after they got back into their neighborhood, and they'd all be home, sleeping and warm. God, he wishes he was doing that. All Pony wants right now is to crawl into bed with Sodapop. He misses him so badly.

Suddenly, bright headlights and the sound of a horn honking broke Ponyboy out of his thoughts. For a fleeting moment, he thought maybe it was Darry coming back for him, and to take him home. Until he realized that, one, that color of the car was a bright red, not a beat-up burgundy color, and two, it wasn't a ford truck. Matter of fact, it was the opposite. A Mustang.

Ponyboy's heart dropped at the sight. He could hear the soc's jeering laughs from inside the car, and their whoops and hollers. He swore he could smell the stench of their beer from all the way where he was at the fountain. The driver of the car narrowed his eyes on Pony, his hands glistening with the rings he brandished on his fingers as he clutched the steering wheel, and Ponyboy knew he was royally screwed.

He hardly had the time to even stand up before they were stumbling out of their car. Gosh how many were there? Five? He'd never be able to handle them on his own. He patted his back pockets and promptly cursed under his breath as he realized he didn't have his blade on him. He gets jumped the other day and he doesn't even think to start carrying something around to defend himself with? Shit, Darry's right.

He really doesn't use his head.

Pony stuffed his hands into his pockets and slouched, trying to look tougher as the socs made their way towards him. The guy with the rings was the first to stop in front of him, too close for comfort although he was still a few feet away. He looked Ponyboy up and down with an evil glint to his eyes and his face broke out into a malicious smile. His ringed hands curled into fists and Pony wondered dimly if those were the same hands that hurt Johnny all those months ago.

"Well, well, look what we've got here. The little greaser that picked up our girls. Where are your little friends, huh?" The soc said, and all his friends gathered around him, like wolves surrounding their prey. And at this he recognized, it was indeed the soc who beat up his friend that time. Bob Sheldon, Cherry's boyfriend.

Pony only rolled his eyes at this. It would be better just to keep his mouth shut when someone said something to get him riled up, he knew that all too well now.

Unfortunately, the soc didn't take well to this. His smile fell from his face and the hate he held practically rolled off his body in droves, so strong Ponyboy could feel it, just how he could smell the beer on his breath. Bob took another step closer, and Pony wished he could back up farther but the fountain was up against the back of his knees now, so unless he wanted to fall back into the water and swim away, he couldn't. But honestly, he'd be lying if he said he never considered it.

"Not talking now? You sure were mouthy the other day." He said, referring to when Pony was jumped yesterday. Damn, does word really get around that fast? Or was he one of the socs there to jump him? He honestly can't remember well.

"Leave me the hell alone." He said, trying to keep his voice firm but it really came out like a mutter. He kept his eyes trailed to the ground while simultaneously scanning for something he could use as a weapon. When he didn't, he looked back up at Bob, who was still standing in front of him and narrowed his eyes, trying to keep his rugged composure. He looked ready to deck Ponyboy at any second, and he really didn't doubt it.

Instead, Bob's mouth turned upward into a menacing smile.

"I don't think so. Somebody's gotta put you in your place, greaser." Bob snarled, looking back at his little gang that stood behind him. Their faces morphed into similar smiles, zeroing in on Pony as they finished off the last of their liquor and beer and took out blades.

"And we should start with washing all that grease out of your hair," One of the socs said, malevolence dripping from his voice and his eyes lit up like he just came up with the idea of the century.

For a second, Ponyboy took this as an empty threat. 'Wash the grease out of his hair', haha, very funny. But then the fountain edge at the back of his knees became present again and his heart dropped to his stomach. They didn't mean literally, did they?

Then they started laughing as well and Bob looked at the boys behind him with an evil grin.

"Nice idea, David. Let's give the kid a bath."

Then they started inching toward him, and Pony did the first thing he could think of. He ran.

Or, tried to.

He could only get so far as he only had a few feet of leeway between the edge of the fountain and the socs. And Ponyboy tried to run, he really did. His feet pounded the concrete at the beat of his heart, both sloppy and quick. But they were right on his tail, and even though he was on the track team, there was no changing the fact that they were older and stronger than him. And drunk.

He must've only got ten feet before arms grabbed him from behind. It felt like a scene out of an apocalypse movie, when the character gets ambushed by zombies and they're fighting over their limbs. Hands grabbed at his arms, scruff of his shirt, and even around his waist, nearly picking him up off the ground. The socs howled with laughter and curses directed at him, and then throwing directions at each other to get him to the fountain.

"No, NO! Get off!" Pony screamed in a panic, trying to thrash out of their grip and rip his arms back from where they were held to sock one of them in the face. He tried to scream for help, for Darry, Soda, anyone really. But they were quick and one of their hands slapped over his mouth before he could do anything more. It felt all too similar to the day before, that smothering, entrapping feeling where you could only try to stall the inevitable. Regardless, he tried to scream for anyone to help him, but his deadened voice couldn't reach louder than the socs, who were all still laughing and shouting at him and at each other. So they could wake up the whole neighborhood, but God forbid Pony tries to stop his own murder. Great. Just fucking great.

They get him over to the fountain in the blink of an eye (but he hasn't been focusing on anything except trying to get away from the hands that were holding him so that's probably why, too). The hand is removed from his mouth and he tries to use the opportunity to properly yell out, and he lets out an ear-splitting scream for a second or two before his body is literally lifted horizontally and his whole upper torso is shoved under the fountain water.

One time, when Pony was younger, his dad took him and his brothers to a lake that was in the woods not too far from their house. It was a beautiful place to be at that time of year, and his dad wanted to try out the new camera he brought thanks to a Christmas bonus and take some pictures. It had to be mid February at that point, and he remembers his mom bundled him up in two jackets and heavy wool gloves so he wouldn't freeze to death. When they got to the lake, Ponyboy went over to the shore and stepped down on the thin layer of ice. It cracked, and unfortunately, his mom wasn't able to give him any other winter boots than Darry's old boots, so the ice cold water didn't hesitate to seep in and soak his socks and feet. They ended up having to leave early since Pony wouldn't stop panicking that his feet were going numb and freezing, and his dad lectured him the whole way home to not step on iced-over bodies of water.

So he didn't fall in or anything, but if he did? It would have felt just like this.

The water was colder than anything he's ever felt before. It was so intense that it felt hot for a second, then felt like stabbing pain over every inch over his whole body. He tried to open his eyes, but the chemicals the town put in the water burned them and he couldn't keep them open for more than a few seconds.

He tried to kick his legs out, but hands were gripped around his ankles and his calves and upper legs were held securely by other pairs of arms. Pony managed to get a hand free and flung it around wildly, in hopes to hit someone hard enough to get them off of him, because even one less person would make a difference. But in desperation of freedom, he didn't even curl it into a fist, so it kind of just slapped someone in the chest or shoulder once or twice before they grabbed it again.

The socs laughs, although muffled by the water, resonated loudly in Ponyboy's ears, sounding like they were having the times of their lives. Panic truly seeped in at this point, to know that they were really having a blast out of this, having a blast out of killing someone's kid. Someone's brother. Someone. He wasn't going to get out of this alive, was he?

He was about to cave in and inhale the dirty, chemical water of the fountain, until the hands dragged him back up again. Immediately, he began to cough and spit water out of his mouth, taking shallow, heaving breaths all the while. His heart pounded in his ears, faster than it's ever been at a track meet, faster than it was the other day when he was initially jumped. The laughing and foul language aimed towards him panged through his ears, so loud yet Pony could hardly hear it, too focused on sucking in oxygen greedily. After another second he got a tiny bit of his bearings back, and the calloused hand that was gripping the collar of his shirt shook him. He squinted his blood-shot eyes open, and for a moment he was relieved, maybe they were showing him mercy and were just gonna ditch him on the concrete. Until he met Bob Sheldon's bright blue eyes and he knew this night was nowhere near over.

"Maybe this will teach you and your friends a lesson not to mess with us." He said, voice laced with venom. In a last attempt of spite, Ponyboy spat in his face, although it was probably more water than actual spit. Bob's eyes narrowed, flashing with a flare of rage. It was a type of expression Pony's never seen before, even in Dally's who was the angriest person he knew.

This was hauntingly murderous.

And suddenly he was shoved under again. Hands grabbed at his throat this time, effectively keeping his head pressed to their bottom. For a second, Pony almost got up again, but the socs caught him and practically slammed his head on the tiles of the bottom of the fountain. If he was in a different situation, that would've hurt like a bitch, but he didn't really feel it in the moment.

His movements were slowly getting more sluggish and he knew he was getting to the end of the line. His chest felt like it was being crushed and his body decided he needed to inhale right that second. Water gushed down his throat and his nose, making his already burning eyes tear up even more.

And just like that, he couldn't feel anything anymore.

But then, Ponyboy was on the concrete, soaking wet and freezing thanks to the cold, late September wind. Hands were on his shoulders, shaking him as if they were trying to wake him up. Straight away he began to cough up the fountain water, for once not paying attention to the hands or presence. But one he did register someone was touching him, his eyes fully snapped open in contrast to being lidded a second ago. He tried to shoot up, but the hands on his shoulders restrained him from doing so and he panicked, thinking it was a soc wanting to torture him more. He was about to yell out, finally having the opportunity to, until the person above him, who was masked by shadows, leaned down closer to his ear and spoke.

"Pony, it's me! Calm down, kiddo,"Soda.

Oh, thank God, Ponyboy thought as he practically let out a sob of relief. Sodapop didn't hesitate to pick Pony's upper body off the concrete and hold him to his chest, cupping the back of his head and keeping a comforting arm around his back. Ponyboy just cried into his shoulder as Soda let out sweet nothings into his ear.

"Pony?" Another voice asked, sounding like they were walking up to him from behind. He registered it as Darry's voice, although it sounded a little weird because it was shaky instead of the firm and assured tone it usually held.

Ponyboy moved his face out of Soda's shoulder, looking back over his own shoulder to see Darry beginning to crouch down.

Once he was down to Pony's level, he placed a comforting hand on the side of his head, near where Soda's was before he moved it closer to the base of his neck.

"I'm so sorry, honey. Are you okay?" He asked, face holding more emotion, and bruises, Ponyboy noticed, than it had in a while. But he'd ask about that later, finding it safe to assume that he'd fended off the socs since they were nowhere to be found. All Pony could focus on was how bone numbingly cold he was, despite Soda's warm embrace.

"I'm cold," He let out between chattering teeth. Darry nodded, eyebrows narrowed, and he didn't hesitate to unbutton his blue flannel, leaving himself just in his white undershirt. He wrapped Pony in it, and he found comfort in it immediately. Soda helped get him comfortable and Darry took him in his arms, standing up and gunning to leave the park.

"Let's get home, kiddo. You'll feel better soon." Pony nodded against his chest, closing his exhausted and heavy eyelids. Sodapop walked beside them, keeping a reassuring hand on Pony's ankle, subconsciously careful of bruises that wrung them thanks to the socs.

Swamped up in his brother's warm flannel, all Ponyboy could think about was the fact that he was so grateful the last thing he'd see wouldn't be Bob Sheldon's icy blue eyes. But he wouldn't be surprised if he saw them for the rest of his life.

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A/N: Ao3 suspension is almost over yippee!!!! I probably won't continue this because then it's just going to turn into the same basic Ponyboy sickfic that we've all read before. But maybe I will one day if I feel like it

[ghostface-knight]

hey guys thinking about soda dying in vietnam makes me physically sick to my stomach thank you so much

[frantic-babbling]

the guffaw I let out when "Bye Pony" AHHHH

Angsty Curtis Brothers fic

My mental health really isn't mental healthing today so I tried to channel that into this. Hope you enjoy :)

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“Good hustle, Curtis,” coach claps him on the back as he jogs off the field and he grins, pushing dark sweat soaked hair out of his eyes. 

They’re up by a touchdown and one field goal- that he’s responsible for- and with possession and just two minutes left in the fourth quarter they’re reasonably safe, though the game isn’t over until it’s over. 

His teammates pat him on the back and compliment his kick as he guzzles back water, and it’s not hollow per se, but even after two years it still feels skin deep. He’ll never be one of them, never be rich, never be quite good enough, popular enough, socy enough, no matter how good his kicks or how well he runs plays. They accept him, maybe some even like him, but they’ll never want him, not really. It doesn’t even sting anymore.

The people who do really care about him watch from the bleachers. Mom and dad are there, dad talking with his hands like usual and mom laughing at him like she always does, too in love to ever scold him for anything. They wave at him across the field when he catches their eye and it almost feels right. Almost. 

The gang is around too, though less obvious in their support of him. Two-bit and Dally are pelting a group of freshmen with popcorn, while Steve, Johnny, and Soda are all smoking near the gap in the fence. They’ll be gone as soon as the final whistle blows, and he really can’t blame him. The end of the match is always the hardest for him too. 

33..32…31…

The clock ticks down steadily, their team and the visiting school fighting back and forth without either team gaining any substantial yards and then the whistle blows and they’ve won.

Like every game they've ever won, the victory feels worse than losing. 

His teammates cheer and thump him on the back while the fans flood onto the field and the coach gives a short congratulatory speech before telling them he’ll see them at practice tomorrow.

Then it’s perfectly, blessedly over. Except it isn’t, is it? It never is, not really.

“You coming to the afterparty, man?” Jared Strong, one of the nicer guys on the team and also one of the biggest, asks, “Damien’s hosting and his parents are outta town.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. Rarely does he go to parties with the team, even though he usually gets an invite. He has no love for pretending to be something he isn’t. Not anymore at least, “I got other plans. Thanks though.”

“Have fun,” Jared nods politely, his helmet dangling in one hand, pale hair stuck to his face, “I guess I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”

“For sure. See you Jared.”

“Bye Pony.”

He watches as Jared rejoins the rest of the team, shining brighter than the rest of them even in his stained and sweaty jersey. Jordan’s captain of the team, nicer than the rest of them, obviously more skilled even though he never bragged about it. 

Jared reminds him of Darry, and it’s hard not to hate him for it. 

It’s been two years, but he can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever really recover from it, or if the hole Darry left in the world is going to be a permanent fixture rendering his life a theatre production he stars in as Ponyboy Curtis with the demands of Doing What Darry Couldn’t Finish.

He wishes he could be bitter about it, but it just feels like a weird sort of penance. Not that he was the one who killed Darry- no Paul Holden and his alcoholic buddies and their too fast cars had done that- but there’s an odd sort of peace tied in with the pain and the guilt of trying to make sure Darry’s legacy is never forgotten. He’ll never be football captain or boy of the year, but he can play the game Darry loved and go to college and get out of this town once and for all. Is it really his dream? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care because it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Darry would know but he isn’t here, he will never be here again and it’s never going to be okay again because a piece of Ponyboy died the same night the police came to their door and told them about the accident and what use is there of living when he isn’t really alive?

Mom and Dad are both beaming when he makes his way over to them, and they’re both still living but they’re different now too, just like all of them are, and it shows in the way mom’s eyes are still bright but now they only ever shine with tears, and dad’s laugh is still loud but never so carefree as it used to be. 

“Great job Little Colt,” Dad ruffles his hair, and mom gives him a quick hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He allows it only because he knows Darry never used to. She needs the reminder sometimes, Pony thinks, that things are different, even though it’s something they all never forget.

He manages a faint grin but he’s tired of his performance, of pretending to be whole around the team, and he can see in their eyes they can see it. 

“Thanks. Let’s go home.”

Dad throws an arm around his shoulders but says nothing, something Pony is grateful for. He’s lucky to have parents who understand him so well, because most people don’t much like his silence even though sometimes talking is just so much work. 

The gang is waiting for them in the parking lot, clustered around dad’s truck and Steve’s car which are parked right next to each other. None of them are usually subdued- two years has given them all enough time to develop a new normal- but there’s a weight hanging over all of them that football games bring out. They’re all performers now, but all of them seem better at it then he is.

Well. All of them except Soda. 

Two-bit can joke again, better than he used to, and Dally is tougher and meaner than ever. Steve’s anger has been honed to a sharp edge, but he’s grown better about using it, his fights with the socs more frequent and violent, but his outbursts at the gang far fewer. Losing Darry had put things into perspective for all of them. Even Johnny was different, even though Pony suspects Johnny might have changed so he still fit with him rather than because of losing Darry. Not that Darry hadn’t loved Johnny and Johnny hadn’t loved him, but in the past two years Ponyboy has come to realize that Johnny spends a lot more energy taking care of him than his younger, more stupid self had ever been able to realize.

They all surround him when Dad drops the steadying arm around his shoulders to pull out his keys. Johnny hands him a cigarette without him having to ask, and he inhales half desperately, ignoring mom’s disapproving look and trying not to roll his eyes. He knows she’d hoped he’d wait until he was at least fifteen to start smoking, but If she can ignore Soda’s recent antics she can surely ignore his newly acquired habit.

Speaking of Soda, he’s currently reeling pickled and clearly far past the point of attempting to hide it. He’s paler these days than he used to be, and skinnier too, no matter how much mom is always hounding him to eat, and pony thinks maybe Soda’s the most ruined of all of them, or at least the only one of them that’ll never recover not really. Right now he’s living like he’s trying to follow Darry to his death, and the anger Pony feels has more to do with the sorrow that came with the fact that in losing his eldest brother he lost the human part of his other brother too.

Steve’s holding Soda upright, his arm under Soda’s shoulders while Soda slurs out a never evening stream of consciousness that none of them can understand, that stupid fucking flask he never goes anywhere without sticking out of his jacket pocket. Pony takes one look at dad’s tightly drawn face and locks eyes with Steve, both of them coming to a silent agreement, one he would’ve thought inconceivable before. Nowadays though, he and Steve Randle get along just fine.

He ducks under Soda’s other side, helping take the rest of his body weight, even though Soda’s got so slight as of late it’s hardly needed, and helps Steve guide him to sit in the back of the car. He’s so drunk he hardly seems to notice, still babbling incoherently.

“Thanks,” Steve huffs, and he looks tired, nearly as tired as Pony feels. He nods, and Steve nods back then goes to promise mom and dad that he’s sober enough to drive them all home. Mom and dad never believe any of them anymore, not without looking into their eyes and smelling their breath. Pony can't even blame them. They’d lost one son to a careless man’s drunk driving. Clearly, they couldn’t risk another.

Johnny climbs in next to him then, smiling softly, and Two crowds in after him. Dally takes the passenger side, and then Steve’s back, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Dally turns on the radio and rolls down the window while he lights up a cigarette, but even the rolling stones aren’t loud enough to drown out Soda’s talk, as much as Ponyboy wishes they could. 

It’s strange and wrong that they all fit in Steve’s car, a gang of six that’s meant to be seven, and also hardly a gang at all.

He rests his head on Johnny's shoulder next to him. 

Last week was the two year anniversary and everything has changed and nothing has changed, none of them are getting better, and Soda is still just getting worse.

Ponyboy sighs. They say three time’s the charm, right? Maybe three years will be enough. Enough that he will be able to look inward at the hole in his heart and it won’t look like a gaping wound. Maybe it will ache like a bruise instead of burning every hour like a knife wound. Maybe three years will be enough for him to be able to say Darry’s name without having to force it past clenched teeth. Maybe if he makes it to three years Soda will decide life is still worth living. Maybe he won’t.

Maybe three years will do what two years haven't. Maybe three years will be what it takes for them all to start to heal.

There’s nothing he can do but find out.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I just saw you were taking requests! :D Lately, I've been obsessing over Buck's and Dally's relationship. Do you think you could write something about them? Preferably a sickfic/whump, but no worries if not.

@fefe-the-cat I HOPE THIS DOES YOU JUSTICE!!! This is where I kinda admit I've never thought much about Dally 'n Buck but this was fun to explore!! TYSM for the ask!!! fic below the cut!!

CW: mentions of vomit and throwing up!! nothing graphic!!

Dallas rolls over, grabs the bucket he'd stolen from the shed 'n brings up the only thing left in his stomach: bile. Waves of nausea roll over him, causin' his shoulders to buck 'n his elbows to buckle from where he's tryin' to hold his weight. He lets himself collapse face down on the bed, buryin' his face in his sheets.

Shit.

He doesn't know why he thought he'd be over this by now. Glory, kill him now. He'd felt like shit yesterday mornin' when he'd woken up thrown unceremoniously into the back bedroom at Buck's. He hadn't been surprised, per say. Wakin' up at Buck's almost certainly meant he'd gotten piss drunk the previous night without one of the gang to drag his sorry ass back to Darry. He'd chalked the sickness in his stomach and heaviness in his limbs to forgettin' to stop before the tequila shooters.

That had become a harder beleif to hold as he crawled into bed last night feelin' worse then when he'd started. By the time he woke up this mornin' heavin' dinner he'd accepted it.

He finally stops chokin' on nothin' 'n sits up and against the wall. He was beginnin' to really regret not just draggin' his ass to the Curtis' place. But he didn't want to do that to Darry. He wasn't that selfish. If he wound up on their porch with the bug he'd pass it to Pony who would give it to Soda, would pass it over to Steve who'd hot potato it to Johnny and it would swiftly wind up with Two and finish out strong with Darry. Sickness made the ranks of the gang like clockwork.

No, he was determined to figure this one out himself. He'd be fine.

Dallas dragged his head off the mattress, instantly heavin' again. Fuck, how Darry could take care of all six of them without losin' his mind was beyond Dallas.

A knock pounds on the door and Dallas runs a hand over his mouth to wipe away the bile, scrubs over his face, pushes back his hair. "I'm not runnin' the fuckin' ponies today, Buck, piss off."

He's not necessarily surprised when, instead of retreatin', the door flies open. Not shocked but still irate. Buck stands in the doorway lookin' pissed as all get out before he gets a good look at Dallas. He softens instantly, cockin' one eyebrow.

"You look like shit." Dallas rolls flat onto his back, stares at the celin'.

"Gee, thanks." He pushes himself to sit when Buck doesn't leave. "Fuck off, I'm fine." Buck rolls his eyes. Well, that was new. Usually, when Dallas told him to get lost he'd mutter about some fuckin' kid who thought he could order his grown ass around 'n then promptly get lost.

"Move over." Buck crosses the room in three strides, not that it was impressive, the room was practically a renovated closet. Dallas was more amused with the fact it took him that many.

"Buck, leave me alone. I feel like shit, I'm not runnin' those fuckin' horses." Dallas squeezes his eyes shut 'n bites down hard to keep his teeth from chatterin'.

"Yeah, no shit." He nearly jumps out of his skin when Buck's hand comes down on his forehead. He snaps his eyes open again, bats his hand away.

"Buck, get the hell out of here, would ya?" He tries again. Buck pulls the cig that's burnin' down to nothin' from his mouth, stamps it out on the bottom of his boot, and tosses it out the open window. He reaches over 'n wiggles it shut. "I wanted that open." Dallas shoots him a glare even though he was gonna close it himself the second he got the man out of his room.

"That's probably why you got sick to start with. Close the fuckin' windows in winter, why doncha?" He rolls his eyes and sounds too much like Darry for comfort. Dallas kicks him in the thigh.

"I'm not sick." Buck actually laughs in his face.

"Sure. Do you vomit on the weekends for fun now?" He kicks the bucket Dallas dropped to the floor. Dallas glares at him. "Look, I'll go get that Darry guy, he can come scrape you off the ground." Buck goes to walk out 'n Dallas snags a hand around his wrist quick as quick.

"Leave Darry out of this." Buck stops, fixes him with a stare. "I don't want him to worry or nothin'."

Well. That wasn't the answer Buck had expected.

"Fine." He shakes Dallas' hand off 'n Dally lets it drop to the bed. "But I'm not gonna let you die in my back room. Bad for business." Dallas rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. Buck disappears into the hall, returns with a thermometer.

"I don't need that shit. I'm fine." Buck shoots him an incredulous look Dallas pointedly ignores.

"I don't really care if you think you don't need it. Either you're openin' up for it to I'll get Darry down here to open your mouth for you." Dallas scowls as Buck plays the only card in his hand. He wasn't sure what Darry Curtis had on the rabid dog that was Dallas Winston but whatever it is, does the trick. Dallas leans over 'n snatches the thermometer, shovin' it into his mouth. "Now keep it there. God knows it'll be hard since you can't ever seem to keep your mouth shut." Dallas shoots him a glare 'n he doesn't need words to convey how close he is to kickin' Buck's ass. Buck just grins.

After a long minute, Buck plucks the glass from Dallas' mouth 'n checks the readin'. He lets out a long, low whistle. "Holy shit, kid."

Dallas momentarily stops scowlin' 'n Buck swears he hasn't seen the vulnerable look on his face since Dallas was fourteen 'n rollin' into Tusla with an accent so strong you couldn't understand a damn thing he said and the hunted look of someone much, much older.

"I think you're out for the count, kid." Dallas is still so focused on the red line he forgets to be agitated with Buck for callin' him a kid. Buck puts one hand on his chest 'n pushes him back down to the pillows.

"What does it say?" Dallas puts up a decent, three-second fight before he goes white 'n grabs for the bucket. Buck worries his lip, runs a hand up the kid's back.

"Says you're sick, dumbass." Buck sighs, stands up once Dallas shoulders stop shakin'.

"Don't go." Dallas' hand snakes out again, this time fingers diggin' deep into Buck's wrist. He freezes, takes in Dallas' gaunt face, his sudden desperation.

"I'm not goin'. I'm gettin' you a glass of water since you've been yackin' nothin' since yesterday." Dallas hesitates a moment 'n Buck doesn't try to pry his fingers off.

"Fine. But don't you dare come back here with medicine. I won't take none of that nasty shit." Buck rolls his eyes and crosses back to the door.

"You'll take whatever I want you to so I don't have to have the cops carry your skinny ass out of here in a body bag." Buck pretends he doesn't see the middle finger Dallas throws as he leaves the room.

When he comes back the kid is suddenly much more subdued than he was when Buck left. Buck deposits the shot glass of cold syrup and water on the nightstand.

"What is it, kid?" Dallas leans back against the wall, pulls his knees up to his chest.

"Buck, am I gonna die?" And the question jars Buck so hard he chokes on whatever he was gonna say.

"Are you gonna what?" Dallas turns the full force of his cold, ice eyes to Buck.

"Die." He deadpans.

"What the hell made you think some little cold is gonna knock off the unkillable Dallas Winston?" Buck smooths a strand of white blonde hair from his forehead. He knows he must really be feelin' whatever bug he's caught when he doesn't fight it at all.

"I dunno. I don't get sick. Last time was... New York." He trails off, buries his head down in his knees. He doesn't need to clarify what he means.

"Yeah, well." Buck picks up the glass, forces it into Dally's hands. "This time you got people lookin' out for you. Ain't no stupid bug gonna kill you, kid."

Dallas takes the cup, swallows a tentative sip. "I guess."

"Look. You're tired. You're half delirious if the nonsense you're spittin' says anythin'. Just try to go to sleep. You'll wake up feelin' better." Buck takes the water, swaps it for the shot glass of medicine. Dallas knocks it back like he shoots vodka- makin' a face 'n then pretendin' he enjoyed it.

He eases Dallas back onto the bed, decides fuck it, the kid was as much Darry's problem as he'd once been Buck's. A million years ago. He'd call him once he got the kid down.

Dallas' eyes flicker shut, blonde lashes fannin' across his cheeks. Buck smooths his hair back one final time, pulls the blanket up 'n over him.

He's nearly out of the room when he hears Dalla's hoarse mutter. "What is it, kid?"

"Thanks, Buck. For everythin'." Buck isn't sappy or nothin' 'n if you asked he'd swear he had no idea what you were dreamin' up. But if he wipes a tear off his cheek as he pulls the door closed, well, it was deserved. He had a soft spot in his heart for that stupid kid. Sue him.

[crow2222]

Updated it with all my up to date bookmarks finally 🙏

[dynamicdiplomacy]

New Fic Alert!

Love's a Stubborn Fool

Fandom: The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)

Characters: Darrel 'Darry' Curtis, Sodapop Curtis, Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Cade, Two-Bit Mathews, Steve Randle, Dallas Winston

Relationships: All friendship and sibling bonding, no romance

Summary:

Love gets them into all kinds of things, doesn’t it? It’s what got them into this one after all. Darry loved his brothers enough to throw all his dreams away, loved them enough to spend his twenties breaking his back, loved them enough to become a completely different man. The Darry from last year was gone and they weren’t ever going to see it again.

When Darry's hurt turns into something a whole lot worse, everyone realizes that he's the only thing holding everything together. What do you do when the glue's gone and you're left with only the shards?

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Darry Whump, Brotherly Love, Good Brother Sodapop Curtis, Injury Recovery, Everybody Needs a Hug, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Dally and Darry are Friends, Everyone's Struggling But They're Struggling Together

Available on AO3:

[paul-ster]

Oooooh!!! Since that one won-

Ponyboy death fic will be posted after The Calm Before The Storm finishes!!! :D

Unless I change the ending of that fic 😜😜😜 But for now :3

.😉😉😉.

The way I still have a couple more Ponyboy whumps in the drafts 😭😭😭😭😭😭. These are the ones that I’m willing to write though ;333

And yes, all the emojis do mean something!!! :3 it’s all up to interpretation. If ya can’t choose, then go for what you think it might be ;3

[trekkiehood]

Outsiders AU where when Darry is 16 his dad dies in an accident which leaves his mother in a depressed state and her brother (their uncle) comes to help out. And he seems really nice and everyone loves him but this guy hates Darry (because he thinks Darry ruined his sister's life because her pregnancy is what caused them to get married before they were ready) and is just awful to him (physically and verbally) and he starts to internalize those feelings and believes he deserves it and the gang can not figure out why he hates his uncle so much because he seems pretty cool to them

[im-normal-about-everything]

Hi!! Feel free to ignore but do u have any fanfiction recomendatjons?? Im dying for more outsiders food 🐴

ANON I ALWAYS HAVE FAN FIC RECS!! (sorry for the late reply, I was eating lmao)

This is a purly fic,post-book. It's one of my favorites ever tbh. Make sure to rea the tags though!!

The Curtis gang watches the Outsiders. It's really funny but also had decent plot!!

Another fun purly fic

This is a series consisting of two fics. I love these with all of my heart. It's a fix where pony gets placed in foster care after Johnny stabs, but doesn't kill bob. Bob, Johnny, and dally are alive Again, read the tags.

Kind of a fix-it? I believe? Idrk it's been a bit since I've read this. It goes more into the after affects of pony almost drowning.

ofc I had to include Temporary, the loml. It's sooooo good if you haven't read it you have too.

this one of kinda fun and games (it's really not actually but it's good) pony whump!!

Darry says smth that pisses soda off, but everything is fine in the end (promise)

That's all I have for now, I could def find more if you want!!

[libelulaviajante]

I would like to read something about Darry/angst/Hurt/whump anything like that, but centered on Darry....I'm looking on ao3 but I lost my account, I had to make a new one and now I have to find them all again 😭.

[se-hinton-confessions]

I don't like fanfics where Pony is put into a boys home (and oddly enough Soda isn't? Like he was threatened to be put in one too--I hate how that's overlooked a lot just because he's 16) and he's immediately abused.

It's too cliche and has been overdone and it gets to a point where it's too predictable and it's no longer whump.

I want a fic where he's put into a foster home and he's adored, told he's wanted, is ensured his needs are met. I want a fic where Ponyboy realized he's supposed to be in a stable home and it crushes his soul because he has to choose between stability and his family.

I don't mind a little bit of resentment towards Darry or Soda or The Gang even--especially if it was Darry's choice to put him in one---but I want it realistic. I want Ponyboy to realize "Hey, I was growing up in a slightly fucked up environment. Yeah, you did the best you could but it's kinda messed up I was allowed to be around dangerous people and do activities like gang fights."

I want something that's realistic and fits with the character. (I mean sure OOC is fine if it's a crack fic) No Ponyboy isn't going to become some weirdly vicious person that came be compared to Tim Shepard in gang fighting just because he was abused for two years. If anything, he's going to behave more like Johnny and I hate how that's so overlooked in these Pony gets sent to a boys home fics.

.

[everyandanything]

This fic is literally: Darry whump oh wait and soda and also SURPRISE secret paul whump like oh my god ????

Need darry and soda to have a happy ending but like also lowkey paul cuz im a #pauldefender but also like it’s obvious bros really going thru it and i honestly feel bad

Basic theme of this fic is no one is having a good time ever 🫡

And Paul… bless him he really dug himself into a hole he can’t get out of. Big “I can fix it myself!!” energy and proceeded to make life worse for himself and everyone he’s ever cared about 😬 (*cough* Darry *cough*)

But honestly he’s actually one of the most interesting characters in this to me because he’s so flawed and he screws up so bad and he finally realizes it but it’s just too late. And how on earth is he supposed to fix everything now? Even if he could see Darry and apologize (which he’s too scared to do) it’s not like the other greasers are going to let him within a ten mile radius of Darry after everything he did.

Anyway I’m rambling sorry I’ve just got like a million thoughts about Paul in this fic that I can’t put in because it’s all Soda’s pov and he (rightfully so) HATES Paul rn 🫠