#need tim and dally just FIGHTING on the FLOOR

[unicornsaures]

johnny and dallas fighting with tim and dallas in my head rn and neither are winning so im flipping back and forth between reblogging the two like a madman

[dalilacherie]

i saw your request were open and if it isnt too much to ask could you maybe write dally x tim cuddling after tim patching dally up ? if its not too much for you to write that is.

𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝

[𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I'm so sorry for this being late!! Also, Ignore the pictures. I had a hard time finding ones that matched the story. We can infer.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1,173

Dallas Winston sat on the edge of Tim Shepard's worn-out couch, his jaw set tight as he clenched his teeth against the pain. Tim was kneeling on the floor in front of him, a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and a wad of cotton balls scattered around him. The small living room was dimly lit by a single lamp, casting long shadows on the walls.

Dally's shirt lay discarded on the floor, revealing a nasty gash running across his ribs. Blood had dried around the wound, and the skin around it was bruised and swollen. Tim worked silently, his hands steady as he cleaned the cut. He didn't say much; he never did. Talking wasn't Tim's way, but he was good with his hands, good at taking care of things that needed doing.

Dally winced as the alcohol touched his skin, a low hiss escaping through his teeth. He glanced at Tim, whose expression remained unreadable, his dark eyes focused on the task at hand. Dally knew Tim wasn't one for showing emotions, but there was a certain gentleness in the way he was handling the wound.

Tim finished cleaning the cut and tossed the bloodied cotton ball into a nearby trash can. He reached for a roll of bandages, his fingers deftly unrolling it and wrapping it around Dally's torso. The fabric was rough against Dally's skin, but the pressure of the bandage was reassuring, a reminder that someone was there, someone to patch him up.

"There," Tim said quietly, securing the end of the bandage. He sat back on his heels, studying his work. "That should hold for now. You need to take it easy for a few days, let it heal."

Dally snorted, a hint of his usual bold tone slipping through despite the pain. "Yeah, right. Like that's gonna happen."

Tim didn't argue. He knew Dally too well. They had been through too much together, seen too many fights, too many close calls. Tim stood up, his joints popping as he stretched. He looked down at Dally, his gaze softening just a fraction.

"You should get some rest," Tim said. "You can crash here tonight. Couch ain't much, but it's better than nothing."

Dally opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. He was too tired, too beat up to argue. Instead, he nodded, the movement small and reluctant. Tim's offer was practical.

Tim disappeared into the small kitchen, returning with a blanket and a couple of pillows. He tossed them onto the couch beside Dally, then hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside him. The couch creaked under their combined weight, the springs protesting the sudden load.

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet stretching out between them. Dally leaned back, his head resting against the couch cushions. He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over him. Tim's presence was a steady anchor.

After a while, Tim shifted, his arm brushing against Dally's. It was a small, almost accidental touch, but it was enough to make Dally open his eyes. He turned his head slightly, looking at Tim through half-lidded eyes.

"You okay?" Tim asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dally nodded. "Yeah. Just tired."

Tim didn't say anything, but he moved closer, his shoulder pressing against Dally's. It was a subtle gesture, but it spoke volumes. Dally let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension drain out of him. He reached up, his fingers brushing against Tim's arm.

Tim settled back, his body relaxing against the cushions. He shifted slightly, making room for Dally to lean against him. It was an awkward arrangement, two tough guys trying to find a way to be close without making a big deal out of it. But they managed, finding a way to fit together that felt right.

Dally rested his head on Tim's shoulder, his eyes drifting shut. The pain in his side was still there, a dull throb that he couldn't ignore, but it was easier to bear with Tim beside him. Tim's hand came to rest on Dally's arm, a light touch that grounded him, kept him from slipping too far into the darkness.

They stayed like that for a long time, the room silent except for the sound of their breathing. Dally's breaths grew slower, deeper, as he started to drift off.

The next morning, Dallas stirred awake, blinking against the early morning light filtering through the threadbare curtains. His neck throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, a result of sleeping in an awkward position on the worn-out couch. He winced as he tried to move, feeling the stiffness in his muscles.

With a groan, he slowly pushed himself up, one hand rubbing at the crook in his neck. The house was silent, save for the distant sounds of traffic outside. The air felt cooler, a slight draft coming through a crack in the window. He glanced around, the events of the previous night coming back to him in hazy fragments.

The small living room was empty, and Tim was nowhere to be seen. The blanket and pillows were still there, evidence of Tim's quiet care, but the man himself was gone. Dally felt a pang of disappointment, a sense of loneliness creeping in as he realized he was alone again.

Dally shifted on the couch, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. He remembered how Tim had carefully draped it over him. He could still feel the warmth of Tim's body beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest as they had settled into an uneasy, but comforting closeness.

After Dallas had finally let his guard down and admitted to being tired, Tim had moved closer, their bodies aligning awkwardly but fitting together in a way that felt right. The lines of their bodies softened by the shared exhaustion. Tim's shoulder had provided a firm support for Dally's aching head, and the slow, even rhythm of Tim's breathing had lulled him into a deeper state of relaxation.

Tim's arm had remained draped over Dally's, the contact gentle yet grounding. It wasn't often that either of them allowed such vulnerability, but in the quiet of Tim's house, with the world shut out, it felt like the most natural thing. They had stayed like that for hours, the initial awkwardness melting into a comfortable silence, disturbed only by the occasional shifting to find a better position.

Dally had drifted in and out of sleep, the pain in his side. But with Tim beside him, it had been easier to bear. There had been moments when Dally had woken slightly, feeling Tim's fingers lightly tracing patterns on his arm.

Now, as he sat on the edge of the couch, the morning light casting a glow across the room, the memories of the night before felt distant. The ache in his neck was a small price to pay for the brief time with Tim. He reached for his shirt, pulling it on carefully to avoid aggravating his wound.

[littlemymelody]

age regressor/little dallas “dally” winston aesthetic/moodboard !!

headcanons under the cut

rambling time

dally’s regression is traumagenic and totally involuntary.

he has a handmade stuffie made out of scraps of fabric that pony made him in home ec class at school. pony worked real hard on it and is so proud that little dally likes it.

all his crayons and stuff - all real old and beat-up, well-loved, like everything the greasers have - were gathered by two-bit. some from his little sister, many stolen. he’s always swiping stuff from stores for little dally.

tim was the first - other than buck - to find out about dally regressing, when he dropped bad after a fight. it was a sudden realisation (and not one tim really understood) but thankfully his big brother instincts kicked in, because dal was hurt and winding himself up something awful. johnny was the second, after he started playing with dally’s hair while they were both dozing in the lot and dally got soft. it was a slow realisation - johnny lining up all the little signs and bits of info in his head from all the time he’s known dally, into an understanding of “dal gets real soft sometimes, like a little kid.” (he was also the one who snitched to the rest of the gang, concerned about dal’s safety and his own ability to take care of little dally by himself.)

dally gets jealous of ‘real’ kids. scowls at them when they’re playing in the fields, or out walking with their parents. (dally has, on more than one occasion when especially young and overtired, asked darry where his ma is or if his dad’ll be home soon. when more lucid, he’s asked why he doesn’t have a ma or a dad. “don’t need ‘em. we’re your family,” darry had told him, and then hugged dally extra tight.)

oral fixation, always chewing on things he shouldn’t. clingy. restless. easily wound up. very physical. has no sense of danger or self-preservation. frequently in trouble. one time he had two’s switchblade in his mouth and darry practically hit the roof. (darry swears to the boys that if little dally ever even sees a heater, he’ll kill them.)

thinks soda’s the best at cuddling and two’s the best at playing, roughhousing and physical play style. (steve’s good at playing too, but he’s too rough, doesn’t really know how to manage his strength with a kid like two does). johnny and pony are the best at imagination-style playing - they’re good at making games out of anything, and using any inanimate objects like they’re dolls because dal doesn’t have many toys. pony likes reading to dal, but a lot of his books aren’t exactly kid-appropriate. he tries to find books dally’ll like, whether in the library or wherever he can get ‘em.

no shoes. socks if you’re lucky. pants if you’re very lucky. hair’s always an absolute mess (more so than usual); he loves having it played with, it’s the one surefire way to get him to sleep, but he still sleeps poorly and has vicious nightmares. he can’t sleep alone.

cries and fights through the entirety of bathtime even with all the toys and distractions in the world.

sits on the floor between two’s legs to watch cartoons. two’s the best at putting up with his fidgetiness because he’s just as bad.

(pinky promise i am writing actual fic. if u want that and/or more of this pls let me know!! i know this is niche but this is MY niche and i am very comfy in here. but there is room for more, hint hint nudge nudge. ok thank you for reading love you)

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

Favorite song from the 60s and which one of the boys would you dance with to it?

A/N: I have so many favorites…imma just do one song for all the boys. I wasn’t originally intending this to be a writing piece; but it sorta came out like one. Oops. Should I add it to the masterlist?

DARRY CURTIS: Unchained Melody - The Righteous Brothers

The ROMANCE tied up in the song, christ almighty

I would kill to dance to the song with Darry, late at night in the kitchen at the Curtis house

The song’s on the radio, playing just loudly enough to be heard while staying soft enough to keep the quiet atmosphere

Slow-dancing in the kitchen, waltzing in slow circles and going round and round without another care in the world

Singing to each other as well, trading the lyrics back and forth in between soft kisses

SODAPOP CURTIS: I’m A Believer - The Monkees

It just fits, okay? I wanna dance with Sodapop Curtis to the Monkees

Soda’s not a slow dancer? He finds it boring to spin you around in slow circles

But if the moment calls for it, god he can really slow dance

But I’m A Believer? He’ll always dance to it with you

Both of you giggling, jumping around and singing the lyrics to each other, no cares whatsoever

PONYBOY CURTIS: Here Comes The Sun - The Beatles

I just- I really see Ponyboy whispering the lyrics to this while you’re asleep

He’s a slow dancing king, I swear to everything

He’s a little clumsy, so I can’t guarantee that he won’t step on your toes a little bit

But the look on his face is so heart-meltingly sweet that it makes up for all of it

DALLAS WINSTON: You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling - The Righteous Brothers

Okay so this is one of the first ones that popped into my mind when I saw this ask

It’s late and despite getting into a fight with Dally earlier that evening you’re still sitting at the bar at Buck’s

Dally’s been quiet all night since the fight but as the crowd continues to thin out, he walks back up, a shy and cowed look on his face

Needles to say, you end up on the dance floor, wrapped in Dally’s arms and held tight to his chest as the song floats from the jukebox

Quiet whispers from Dally, both the lyrics and apologies for the fight as he holds you close

JOHNNY CADE: Can’t Help Falling In Love - Elvis Presley

Johnny is such a sap, such a romantic and I can’t help but think of that sweet little face when I hear the song

Just like, that’s definitely a love theme for the two of you

Imagine, sitting on opposite sides of a bonfire in the lot and catching Johnny watching you from across the fire

🎶I can't help falling in love with you🎶

TWO-BIT MATHEWS: My Girl - The Temptations

Ughhhhhh I love this song

I know, it’s gendered, but if you didn’t identify as girl do you really think Two-Bit would care?

The two of you dancing, he’s muttering the lyrics, switching all the gendered terms to whatever you use

It’s perfect? Because it’s soft but upbeat enough that Two loves it

He does this little shuffle step thing and it’s the cutest thing you will ever see in your life

STEVE RANDLE: Ain’t No Mountain High Enough - Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

The two of you at the DX shouting the lyrics back and forth because the song was on the radio and both of you needed something to smile about today

Steve likes the song? Is actually one of the few who’s going to tell you that he really likes the song

Also the kind of person who’s just going to pull you into a dance no matter where you are

Steve doesn’t care who’s watching, if the song comes on, you guys are dancing

It’s just that simple

TIM SHEPARD: Leader Of The Pack - The Shangri-Las

Hear me out, alright?

Tim hates this song; hates it, hates it, hates it

But it’s so him

“Wearing his ring”, “came from the wrong side of town”, “told me he was bad”

You can’t look at this and tell me it’s not Tim

He hates listening to it, hates dancing to it, but if you’re lucky, you can convince him to dance with you in the kitchen when everyone else is out and about

CURLY SHEPARD: My Boyfriend’s Back - The Angels

Originally? Curly definitely doesn’t like the song

It’s too girly, too pop and way too Soc-ey and he’s not into it

But you do it once, you murmur the lines to him with the sweetest of looks on your face and Curly’s calling it your song

The line about the boyfriend being big and strong is definitely Curly’s favorite

He’d also definitely beat the ever loving crap out of someone who’s been bothering you while he was away

[mattdillon-enthusiast]

i have no idea how to use tumble at all, i literally use it to look at the outsiders incorrect quotes but uh i thought i’d post a fanfic i wrote for my oc, arabella and dallas so enjoy.

Title: Death Pact - Dallas Winston One Shot

Warnings: Death, Suicide and Mentions Of Abuse

Word Count: 2,189

Everything went in slow motion as Dallas raised his unloaded heater, an idiot that kid was, they don’t know he’s bluffing. As the bullets from the surrounding police officers made their impact, memories of the years spent by Dallas’ side flashed before my very eyes, years of love, adoration, thrills, adventures and memories all gone within the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, you, Johnny and Ponyboy are all seen as hero’s now” I spoke, walking over to sit on the side of his hospital bed looking over at Tim for a moment before looking back at Dallas. Dallas looked annoyed hearing himself being called a hero, he muttered a few incoherent things under his breath, most likely curses on how he was anything but a hero.

“Any word on when they are going to let you out?” Tim asked, thinking of tonight being the rumble, meaning he needed any man he could get his hands on. Dallas was surely one of the best he’d be able to get.

Dallas sighed, shaking his head as he lowered his gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, knowing this would disappoint Tim and I, just in different ways. “Suck’s about the rumble, Man.”

Dallas and I both cared about Johnny a lot, Dallas more than me by a long shot. We saw so much of ourselves in him, but definitely more Dallas. I could only hope that Johnny would be okay… but hope wasn’t enough.

Merely a week ago, we were helping Johnny and Ponyboy go on the run. Couldn’t believe Johnny had actually done it at first, seeing the two walk into Dallas and I’s room at Buck’s Pony soaking wet, freezing I offered him one of Buck’s shirts we had laying around, Dallas gave him his brown jacket.

I checked one of our drawers for some cash, counted fifty and Dallas explained how to get to a hideout location. I handed the money to Johnny, “Should be enough for you to buy a week’s supply of food, when you get there you need to get food before your descriptions are put in the paper.”

Dallas got up from his potion on the bed and went to get his gun, his loaded one. He handed that to Johnny as well. “Don’t point it at me for Pete’s sake Johnny, it’s loaded!”

“Pony, do Darry and Sodapop know about this?” Dally asked as he took a seat on the bed again, pulling out a cancer stick and match using his Christoper to light it. He took a drag as Pony shook his head, “I’m not itching to be the one to tell them and get my head kicked in”

“Don’t tell them then” Ponyboy replied settling with the new shirt and jacket on.

That night neither Dallas nor I got much sleep, we laid in bed thinking, hoping that Johnny and Pony would be okay. We had sworn ourselves to secrecy, no one would know that night had happened the way it did other than the four of us.

Just over two months before that night, Dallas went to prison. “Yeah well, I don’t want to see him serving a sentence longer than a couple of days,” Dallas told me. We had been discussing him taking the blame for busting out the windows of the local high school, everyone knew Two-Bit had been the one to do it.

“But Dal, you know they aren’t going to give you a slap on the wrist this time around” I sighed.

“I can handle it, been in and out since I was ten, you know that Bella,” Dallas said, as he emptied his pockets, putting his heater in one of his drawers. “Plus, sounds like something they’d think I’d do. I’ll get hauled in soon enough, it’s easier to just turn myself in”

I walked over to him, putting my arms around his waist holding him. I always hated when he went to jail, normally I could find my own entertainment between visits but it was never the same without him. I always missed him. “You know the gang will keep you company if need be, Tim is always open to you spend the night at his.” He told me.

“Yeah, Yeah. I’ll miss you though” I replied as he turned to put his arms around me.

I know most wouldn’t look at Dallas and think ‘that man is romantic’, but he sure could be sometimes, I originally never thought he’d be one to plan dates months in advance. Sure took me by surprise the first time he put so much dedication into a night out. We were back in Tulsa for about six months at that point, he took me out for dinner at the Dingo which was common so I thought it be an average night out. We didn’t stay for milkshakes after which was odd because milkshakes were always how we ended the night. We headed out to Buck’s car which we had borrowed for the night and he took me on a drive.

Listening to Elvis on the radio as we drove around Tulsa, we spent the drive singing along to the radio, talking or just enjoying the moment until we pulled up at one of the nearby lakes, there was a picnic blanket set out with a basket. He’d paid one of the guys to set this up while we had gone to dinner. There were beers, strawberries, whipped cream and chocolate. God this man had my heart. The night was spent there before we went swimming which started out innocently enough, can’t say it ended that way.

I of course am Dallas’ partner in crime, I was a relatively well-behaved kid until Dallas and I moved to New York. We got ourselves into so much trouble, we were involved in a gang, got into gang fights often, robbed stores, and even got wrapped up in a murder cover-up.

“Bella, stay right there,” Dallas said, as he peaked out of an alleyway. We had stolen dinner from a gas station, we’d had to spend the last of our winnings from our latest gambling on rent, after a day and a half of not eating we had to result to stealing. The police had been called, stupidly enough, all we stole were chips and soda, quite the overreaction if you ask me. We took some alleyways on our way back, he was just checking for cop cars.

“Shit…” Dallas muttered. He turned back to me, “Back this way, we have to walk down to the next alleyway”

Before we even had the chance to move, we heard someone yell in our direction. There were two police officers calling out to us and walking in our direction. Dallas and I looked at each other for only a split second before we bolted down the alleyway. The dark alleyway echoed with our laughter as we did.

The officers were so caught off guard that they hadn’t reacted nearly as fast, so they trailed further behind them. The alley ahead of us split off into three directions, we had to think fast and had to split up. I went for the alley that would take me closer to our apartment while he took the one that would cause him to have to run around almost an entire block. We exchanged a glance that could only be interrupted as ‘be safe’.

I hadn’t been followed, both officers trailed Dallas allowing me to get back without any troubles. I couldn’t touch my food once I got back, not till I knew that he was okay. I sat on our mattress on the floor which my eyes on the door. Every apartment we owned was a room with a bathroom attached, never anything special we couldn’t afford anything bigger.

For an hour I waited for him to return, when he did he had a cut just above his eyebrow, bleeding down his face and a massive grin on his face. He almost gave me a heart attack, I think I lost years of natural life from that experience and many more similar.

There were so many memories of New York, we spent three years there and they were the best years of my life by far. From ages 13 to 16, I spent every day and night filled with the thrills of running away from home, gangs and falling madly in love with Dallas Winston.

I remember the night Dallas and I admitted being in love with one another. This was about a month into moving to New York, we had known each other for about seven months at this point. Dallas and I moved to New York two months after my mother’s death, we weren’t very close at that point and the only reason why I ran away was because I had a fight with my father, he pulled a gun on me. I turned to Dallas, knowing that I couldn’t hide with the Curtis’ they were too close with my father. He wanted to flee his own father, so that’s how we ended up in New York.

This particular night we had been out with friends, on our walk home it had started to rain so by the time we ended up soaked. We collapsed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling laughing about something I had said before we entered the room which really isn’t important to the moment. Dallas turned his head to face me, using his hand he turned me to face him.

“I don’t think I can hide this from you any longer, Arabella.” He said, we stared into each other’s eyes and for the first time I saw him nervous. “I love you, Bella.”

I almost couldn’t believe it. Dallas admitting his love for me, he returned the feelings that I had been so unsure of. “I love you too, Dally”

We laid there as moments passed, continuing the staring as the grins grew on our faces. He was the one to break the silence, the words that would impact the ending of the situation I currently find myself in.

“I propose… a death pact. I know right now I want to spend my time with nobody other than you and I never want you to be with anyone else.” Dallas said. He’d mentioned how the idea of marriage made him sick.

If this was anyone else, I would have laughed in their face and told them they were crazy. But.. I was also not in the best state of mind. Dallas was the only person keeping me here, after my mother’s death and my father becoming the way he was my only stability was him and if he was to go, I’d want to follow. “Let’s do it”

“If you die, I’ll kill myself... If I die… you do the same” Dallas said drawing out the only real rule.

Bringing me back to now, after witnessing Johnny’s death at the hospital after the rumble Dallas broke. Johnny was gone, and everything came crumbling down for him. He ran out before I could stop him leaving Pony and I to walk back to the Curtis’ to share the awful news. We had been back for only a few minutes before Dallas called, and once Darry told us we bolted from the park. I ran as fast as my feet would carry me.

“Dallas!” I yelled seeing him running, he stopped in his tracks under a street lamp. I swear I saw him look at me as he raised his unloaded heater. A fool, that’s what my love was, a blasted fool. The officers didn’t know his bluff, shots fired and Dallas fell. He was gone before we could even make it to him.

Darry was yelling, something about Dallas just being a kid. Most couldn’t control the tears that raised in their eyes or the sobs that left their mouths as we neared his body. Every memory with Dallas from this moment backwards went through my mind in a flash. Suddenly Dallas’ voice filled my head, ‘If you die, I’ll kill myself... If I die… you do the same’’. I had to honour the pact.

Tears fell down my cheeks and I choked out sobs. I turned to Darry and then to Pony, “I’m so sorry.. But I promised Dallas” I said.

I grabbed Dallas’ heater took a few steps forwards, before raising the heater at the nearest officer. It didn’t hurt when I was shot, it felt like I’d had a pebble thrown at me but I assume that was just because of the shock. I fell to the ground and the last thing I heard was Pony’s voice.

“Not Bella too”

[hellsfanatic]

TW: talks of fights, blood, non-graphic fighting, alcohol

—

“Hey Dal!” Johnny called for me as I walked out of Buck’s. I turned back. His face was bloody and bruised and he had a real bad limp to his walk. My heart dropped, I hadn’t ever seen Johnny this hurt, not even from his old man.

I walked to Johnny so he didn’t have to struggle anymore. “Hey, kid, what happened to ya, man?” I asked, looking at the blood dripping from the cut on his cheek. Gosh, whoever did this was in for a h*ll of a ride when I found them. Maybe they’d end up dead, but I wanted them to suffer more than they made Johnny.

“I don’t know, man,” he murmured. He brought his arm to his cheek, wiping the blood off. I swear I thought he’d faint any second after that. He really did have a nasty cut, real deep into his face, too. “I just,” he paused for a moment, “some d*mned Socs saw me, I think they were dr*nk. They sure acted it if they were. I tried yellin’ for y’all but I guess they shut me up pretty quick huh,” he spoke, almost like he could feel each hit he was remembering again. Maybe he could, because he winced in pain every now and again.

Slinging my arm around his shoulders to keep him up, I said, “C’mon John, let’s get you to my room, we can use one of Tim’s old shirts to clean up that cut. Got any others?” He didn’t say anything, just nodded. Of course there were more, of course. Boy, those Socs sure were building a reputation for themselves, they’d be dead before they knew it. Man, they might as well be dead now, it’d be better for them.

We got to my room, and honestly it was pretty hard. Johnny’s limp didn’t get any better, and gosh, those stairs were anything but fun to help him up. “Kay John, where’s the rest of ‘em?” I asked, pressing a cloth with some alc*hol on it to the cut of his cheek. He flinched, but let me keep going. I know that stuff burns, but I had to do it. Keeping his silence, he pulled off his jacket. His shirt was covered in crimson red blood around a slice in it. It reached from his lower rib to his waist, but it wasn’t too deep.

“The other’s on my leg,” Johnny mumbled.

“I’ll get that one in a second, man. I gotta fix this one up first. Stay right here, ya hear?” I cocked an eyebrow. He nodded. “Good. I’m gonna go ask Buck somethin’. Hold that cloth right there, got it?” I moved my hand from the cloth I was pressing on his cut so he could get a grip on it. “Don’t you go takin’ that thing off. I don’t wanna clean up more blood than I gotta. Keep pushin’ down too.”

Johnny was holding it to the cut like I said, so I left. Everyone downstairs was real loud, especially compared to Johnny. Buck wasn’t dealing with anyone just then, so I pulled him to another room. It was still loud, but this was the best we were going to get. Closets aren’t usually used for partying anyways.

“Whatcha need Dally?” he almost had to shout. At a party this wild, he knew something had to be wrong since I wasn’t out talking to one of the pretty girls at the bar or drinking. Well, I probably wouldn’t have pulled him into a closet if I didn’t need something either.

I looked around the closet, trying to see what he had. “You got any of those bandages, man? I was gonna use a cut up shirt, but I don’t know if that’ll work for this one. It’s uh, it’s a pretty gnarly cut. Right down the side, man. Like that one kid the town over. Rusty? Rusty-James, I think. His was deeper, though. No bones showin’ on this kid, thank God.”

“Bad cut huh? That why you was bringin’ that kid up there? Yeah, man, he looked pretty beat up,” he said, starting to walk out. “Might got some upstairs. I don’t know how much yesterday’s brawl took. They were both pretty messed up. Man, you shoulda seen it. ‘Betcha could’ve won if you were there. They were pretty big guys, though,” he continued, heading up the stairs with me.

We looked over what he had and grabbed the bandages. “I’ll put ‘em back when I get what I need,” I told him, already making my way out the door. I had left Johnny alone longer than I wanted to already, I couldn’t keep using my time like this.

I got back to my room, seeing Johnny resting his head on the wall. Man, he looked like he could see the d*mn Grim Reaper standing in the corner, waiting for the exact moment he was gone. “Hey, John, take that rag off the cut will ya? I got some bandages so you don’t gotta hold that thing there the whole night,” I told him, unraveling the roll. He listened real well, not like it was much to do, but he sure did it. Getting him wrapped up was pretty easy, probably because he didn’t make a huge fuss like a little kid. There were a few hisses of pain when I pulled them too tight, but he tried to keep them back.

“Man, you almost done?” he asked, sounding tired.

“Yeah, Johnny, almost.” I wrapped the bandages around him a couple more times, then backed away. “There. Now don’t go messin’ that up, ya hear?” He just nodded. Not like Johnny would purposely mess it up. I cleaned up the rest of his cuts, which wasn’t that hard. It was pretty bloody, though. That one on his cheek would scar, I knew it. Kind of made him look like a pal I had back in New York, that guy would get in fights even if he knew he’d lose. He just wanted the thrill. Man, he was fun.

Johnny seemed just about ready to fall asleep. If he had the chance I’m sure he would. His eyelids were tugging themselves down and he was leaning his whole body on the wall. I’ll bet limping all the way to Buck’s didn’t exactly boost his energy. I tried to get his attention after a minute or two, but he didn’t even look at me. He must’ve fallen asleep. He was already on the bed, I just laid him down. I wasn’t too thrilled about the blood from his shirt getting on the mattress, but what was I going to do? Put him on the floor? No way.

There wasn’t much to do, so I left. Johnny could stay put until I came back, anyways. He told me a couple things about those Socs, like the car they were in and that one of them had some rings. D*mn, he wouldn’t shut up about those rings. They were the things that cut his cheek. The guy punched him across the face. For rings, they went deep.

The air was cold, it matched the silence of town. There were a couple people, but they weren’t being loud. It was late, too, so most things were closed. That’s probably why it was like that. The corner store’s light was on, brightening up the sidewalk and street. I went in, just to look around. I couldn’t afford jail time when I had to find those guys who got Johnny. I’d go to jail for k*lling them, sure, but not some stupid shoplifting now.

The car.

That was their car. Johnny said it was a blue Mustang. This was a blue Mustang. Those aren’t just everywhere around here. I pushed past the couple looking at magazines together and went straight out the door. I was following that car. I wasn’t stopping until they did and I’d get them. I’d get them real good.

It slowed down after not too long in some alleyway. They must’ve seen me or heard my shouting. Three guys got out. The guy from the driver’s side, some preppy guy, had big rings on his left hand. Rings that could definitely cut up someone’s cheek. He took a drink from his flask, tossing it in the car and slamming the door. A dopey grin grew on his lips. Man, I’d knock that right off. It’d be the first thing I’d do.

“Lookie here, boys, we got that kid’s guard dog. Someone’s mad his little friend got beat up,” the first Soc sneered. The other two snickered. “I think Winston here’s lookin’ to match his pal, ain’t he boys?” he said as the three of them took a few steps forward.

That’s all I remember from them. I could maybe recall a couple blurred moments of fighting and them driving off, but I could never give details about it. I guess I had a busted lip and some bloody knuckles to show for it, though. I got away better than the Socs did, they could barely get themselves back in the car. That could’ve been the alc*hol too, though.

I was making my way to Buck’s, which definitely felt longer than normal, probably since I was pretty hurt. I can’t imagine what it was like for Johnny, he was banged up even worse than me. I wonder how long it took him to get to Buck’s. I doubt he’d know the answer if I asked him. He was probably just focused on finding one of us and trying to stop his bleeding.

The noise only got louder as I opened the door, leaving a pounding sensation in my head. It eased as I made my way upstairs, opening the door to the room I was staying in. Johnny was still out, good. He seemed like he could sleep for a good while if I let him. I closed the door, making sure not to let it slam. Doors slamming always scared Johnny.

His bleeding had stopped, but I had a couple cuts I wanted to take care of. For a three on one fight, I’m surprised I only got a few. These might not even scar too bad. Grabbing a new cloth and wiping off the blood that ran from my forehead to my cheek, I looked in the mirror. Man, I did not look too great. My face was pale, my eyes seemed tired, and my hair was in a jumbled mess of blond. One look at me and you’d think I either just got out of a fight or rose from the grave. I mean, I had enough blood on me to match one of those over-exaggerated zombies from a movie.

I heard the sheets move, so I looked back. Johnny was up. “Hey kid, you oughta go back to sleep, I bet you need it,” I told him. He yawned quietly, stopping halfway through and holding his stomach. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, opening slowly as he pushed himself to sit up straight.

“Nah man, I ain’t gonna be able to sleep much anyways. Dal, you try sleepin’ with a split down the middle of ya,” Johnny groaned. Now that I think of that, it probably hurt real bad even just laying down. He looked at me, freezing up almost immediately. “Gee Dally, what happened to you? I don’t remember hearing a bar brawl downstairs.”

I let out a small laugh. “C’mon John, don’t worry about it. Don’t go worryin’ ‘bout them Socs neither. They ain’t gonna hurt you,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. Strands of hair wrapped around my fingers, some darkened by blood, that were getting pulled out of my scalp.

“Well why wou-” he cut himself off, realization settling on his face. “Dallas tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t go after him man, please,” he said, seeming at least a little worried. “Man they’ll kill you I swear it. Dal they ain’t gonna give up, tell me you didn’t do it.”

I tugged my shirt down at the collar, showing some of the cuts they tried to land on my neck. “Johnny I ain’t gonna lie to ya, I did it.” His expression fell.

“Dally,” he sounded a little annoyed as he tried to get up. He let out a groan of pain, but pushed through and stood. “Dally, that’s probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. You do a lot of stupid things Dallas. Think about this. Just for a second, man. Think about it. They’ll– They’ll get a bunch of guys and they’ll hunt you down Dal! They’ll get away with it too! I don’t want ‘em cuttin’ you up like they did me, you savvy?”

I tried to get him to sit back down. “I’ll be fine, kid,” I mumbled, putting my hand on his arm and gently pulling him down. He tried to keep himself up, but gave in after only a few seconds.

“Yeah I know,” he murmured, leaning his back against the wall. “I just, you go gettin’ roughed up like this so much, one of these times you’re gonna get killed Dally. You are.” He seemed genuinely worried, like he actually thought I’d get myself killed. No way, no day. He probably just wasn’t thinking about all the fights I had won. I had a reputation for winning, so if I lost, it wouldn’t be to the extent of death. I guess I couldn’t prove it to him until I died for real, and I still had a good twenty or thirty years before that happened. Yeah, twenty or thirty years.

[fandomqueen44]

9 months to hell and back: A Tim x Female Dallas Story

So this is an idea that wouldn't leave my head and has even haunted my dreams.

Point out any mistakes in comments and I'll fix lol

Warnings: Mild Violence and Pregnancy. Probably misspellings.

Summary: Tim accidentally knocked up Dallas Winston after a rumble. But...everything happens for a reason right?

.....

Week 6

Dallas Winston was in a god awful mood today, even worse then her usual moods. She huffed as she pulled herself off of Bucks bathroom floor and flushed the toilet, brushing her teeth in an effort to get the taste of vomit away from her mouth. She groaned and splashed her face with cold water, groaning a bit as she gazed in the mirror.

She was by all means a pretty girl. She was about 5'9 and weighed a nice 125 pounds, with a pleasant curve to her body and a rounded face, with wild brown hair, her skin having a dusting of freckles across it.

She groaned a bit and got dressed, frowning as she looked down and noticed her stomach was ever so slightly rounded. She just took it as a sign that she'd finally began putting on weight (Darry had suggested to her that she do) and carried on.

She went outside and saw Buck smoking. Normally she would join in for a stick or two, but her stomach clenched at it and another bout of nausea hit her. She groaned and went back inside. Maybe her period was close?

She laid back on her bed and through about whatever came to mind. She grimes as a craving for a blizzard from Dairy Queen hit her, but she again shrugged it off as her period coming.

Week 9

She was with the Curtis Gang when another wave of Nausea hit her. She groaned mentally, shifted in her seat on the couch, and tried to go back to watching the movie. Her period hadn't come yet, but it had never been regular anyways. She just tried to watch the movie and eat popcorn, but the taste just only made the nausea worse.

Week 13

Dallas frowned in the mirror and lifted up her shirt. Her stomach was starting to curve out now, and she had gained about 10 or so pounds, but it wasn't soft like she'd expect. It was almost like jello more then anything. She frowned and tugged her shirt down, frowning as she still saw it poke out. She sighed, thinking to herself.

When her period hadn't come for 2 months, she took it as a blessing. Now it had been three months, and her mind began to wonder to another option, one she wants entirely sure she was ready to face.

"Am I....." She mumbled to herself before dismissing the thought. That wasn't a reality she was ready for.

That she was pregnant, and fucking Tim Shepard was the father.

She just shook her head and grabbed a beer, or thought about it before grabbing a water instead. Just in case.

Week 15

She sighed as she saw her belly poke out more. She had to be pregnant, there was no other explanation at this point, but her mind refused to really believe it.

She walked to the drugstore and grabbed a test, one of the slightly more expensive ones, and took it, anxiously pacing until it dinged 5 minutes later.

She picked it up and just shook her head in resignation. Postive.

Oh.....that Shepard was so going to pay for this....after she puked.

Week 18

She walked into the clinic shyly, wearing a jacket to hide her bump. She didn't need any rumors flying already. She hadn't even told the gang yet, although, she was sure Darry suspected. She filled out the chart and waited in the room, looking at the other women there and looking away when she found herself staring at just how large a few of them were. She sighed softly as a doctor called her back for the first Ultrasound.

She got on the seat and saw an odd looking machine. Ultrasounds were still rather new technology, only having come out 10 years ago. She wasn't entirely sure she trusted it.

The doctor told her to lay on her back and lift her shirt, which she did shyly. She usually wasn't so shy, but doctors always made her nervous.

The doctor put a gel on her stomach before moving the wand-like object around. Dallas looked at the screen anxiously until a shape came into being.

The doctor looked over the screen for a while. "When was the last time you were...active...?" The doctor asked.

Dallas thought for a moment. "Almost 4 months ago..." She said softly. She was known for sleeping around, but she stopped shortly after she began to notice the pregnancy, more ashamed of her weight at the time than anything.

The doctor nodded and thought a bit more. He explained a few more things, stating that the baby looked in good health and was growing nicely.

The doctor printed her a photo and got it developed the same day for her. She took it and walked off, her mind swarming.

Week 20

It turns out, Tim Shepard was a really hard guy to find when she actually wanted to see him. She grumbled and walked around his part of town. She had her bump hidden as best she could, but her jacket did little to hide it these days.

She then decided to walk to the drive in and smirked seeing Tim's car. Slashing tires always got his attention. She flicked her blade and slashed a hole in one and walked off.

She walked to the Curtis house and let herself in like usual. She handed around before sitting by Johnny, subtly frowning as her bump (which was halfway by now) seemed to be more pronounced when she sat.

Johnny sat by her and looked at her in concern. "How are ya doin' Dal?" He asked.

"Fine." She said, before Two-bit politely handed out beer. He handed her one but she polity sent it away.

The jokester frowned at her. "What's up Dal? You sick?"

"Something like that." She replied, looking down.

Darry came from the kitchen and looked at her. He must have just finished a shower. "Unzip." He said, gesturing to her jacket.

Dally arched a brow in fake confusion, but Darry gave a look and she slowly complied, unzipping the jacket which let her bump be that much bigger.

"I knew it." He said. "You're pregnant aren't you?"

Dally looked down with a small nod.

Darry sighed. "Do you at least know who the father is?"

Dally glared a bit before realising he had a point, as she had the reputation. She nods. "It's Tim."

"Fucking what?!" Steve yelled in surprise. Sure, everyone knew she and Tim messed around, but Dallas Fucking Winston....pregnant ?

"Does he know?" Johnny asked quietly. He had suspected, but never said anything.

Dallas sighed. "Not yet...haven't been able to find him."

"Ah, speak of the Devil." Soda said, who had been watching out the window. A few seconds later, there was an angry knock.

Dallas instinctively went to zip her jacket, but Johnny grabbed her hand and stopped her, shaking his head.

"He deserves to know." He said. "Let him see."

Dallas swallowed. Why was she so nervous...?

Darry opened the door to reveal an angry Tim in all of his glory. God, he was sexy when mad. (Which, when Dally reflected, is what landed her in the situation in the first place.)

"Where's Dallas?" Tim asked in cold Anger.

"Inside but....well..." Darry stumbled for a moment. "well, you'll just have to see for yourself."

Tim arched a brow in confusion but stepped inside the Curtis house, his eyes landing on the Brunette. Something was off, he knew it. He could feel the tension in the air.

He stepped closer, and by the third step, he realised what was off. He glanced down and saw a definite swell on Dallas. He blinked and then saw it again.

There was a long silence.

"It's mine isn't it...?" Tim asked slowly, his anger seeming to fade away.

Dallas stayed silent for a moment and nodded, looking away.

Tim swallowed and walked up to her. He knealt before her, which was a rarity. Dallas looked at him confused.

Tim put a shakey hand on the swell and sighed. He looked at Dallas and then back to the bump. "I'll try to be there....if you want me that is?" He looked at her.

Dallas swallowed, the look in his eyes holding a....pleading feel. She looked down. "Sure..." She mumbled.

Week 25

Tim had began coming to the Curtis house more often to see and be with Dallas. They were in an awkward relationship to say the least, as neither had been on any real dates with the other but now they were having a kid together.

They had also began looking for a cheap apartments to live since Tim's side of town was not ideal and Bucks was a horrible place for a child.

She was on the couch eating some candies in the Curtis living room. They were the only ones at house currently, since Pony was in school and the others were out and about.

Tim sat beside her awkwardly and they held a small staring contest before Dallas felt something. "I think the kid kicked..." She said, unsure. She had felt it move before, but never actually kick.

Tim looked at her and, almost shyly, touched her bump, and soon enough, felt the kick hismelf. His eyes winded and a grin lit his face. He kissed the bump a bit and smiled softly. "I promise to be better for you than either of our dads were." He said to it.

Dally felt her eyes tear up, the sweet sentiment doing a number on her emotions. There was no way she'd make it through this with her dignity in tact.

Week 30

Now nearing the last stretch of her pregnancy, Dallas Winston was very obviously pregnant, and the talk of Tulsa. And she was sick of it, and impulsively said she was gonna join the rumble, which lead to a rather dumb argument.

She was out for a walk to clear her head after the dumb argument with Tim, when she heard the signature thrum of a car. She didn't think anything of it until she saw it was most definitely a socs car. She hoped they were just passing through since, as much as she hated to admit it, she probably couldn't fight for shit with this bump on her which was already giving her a slight waddle.

The car kept following her, slowing. She sighed. Great. Fucking perfect. She frowned as she realised it was night, and friend more as she saw the socs were drunk. She reached for her knife, only to realise she never brought it.

"nice going..." She thought to herself. "You totally screwed yourself."

A group of 7 socs popped out, and she noticed on was Bob. She glared at them and tried to keep going, but Bob grabbed her by the arm and slammed her against him. She gaged at the smell of alcohol and smoke.

"shit...." She thought panicked as she saw the group all had knives.

"Look what we have 'ere boys....a pregnant slut..." Bob slurred loudly to the group who laughed.

Normally, she would have already beat the group to pulp, but she suddenly remembered she was very pregnant when she squirmed and fled the child squirm. She shivered as bob lifted her shirt up and pressed his knife Into her stomach, drawing a small amount of blood.

"shit...." She panicked mentally, trying to get away. Bob gripped her tighter.

"Stop moving. It would be a shame if something happened to a mother before birth." The drunk taunted.

Her body froze and she looked down, her heart racing, trying to think of an out. She noticed she was surrounded and whimpered a bit against her will.

"Aww. Is mommy Winston scared?" A doc cooed mockingly. She yelled as she saw the man brace to punch her, aiming for her stomach as bob held her...

But the blow never came. She peered an eye open to see a very, very pissed off Tim Shepard. She had never seen the man so mad!

"Leave her alone you punk." Tim growled, holding the socs wrist firmly.

"Oh, it's her knight in shining hair!" Bob laughed.

"Actually, she has two." Came Two-bits voice from behind Bob. Two-bit held his prized knife to bob's neck, which made the doc let go of Dallas, who took off back to her and Tim's new place. It want by any means a great apartment, but it would serve until they could afford an actual house.

Tim came in a few minutes after, a little bloody but otherwise fine. He walked in and looked her over.

By now, the Adrenaline had worn off, and the realization of what almost happened hit Dallas hard. She wrapped her arms firmly around Tim and started to cry a bit.

Tim stood stunned before wrapping his arms firmly around her and rubbing her back, gently rocking.

"T-They were gonna...." She whimpered out quietly through chocked sobs.

Tim frowned and kissed her head. "I know Babe, I know." He said softly.

That was the night something shifted in both of them.

Week 38

Dallas was 2 weeks away from her due date, which everyone was happy for. Partly to meet the new baby, but also to make her not be pregnant anymore since she was even moodier now.

She was on the couch at the Curtis house and curled up, sitting with Johnny while Tim was out. She was eating some chocolate Tim had gotten her. She shifted around and Johnny glanced at her.

"You alright?" He asked

"Yeah, the kids just kicking more than usual is all." She said.

Johnny nodded, doubtful.

Indeed, a few hours later, she hissed in pain. "That wasn't a kick...." She grumbled to Johnny.

Johnny ran and got the phone, Calling Darry.

"Dallas is in Labor."

15 hours later....

Tim frowned as he held her hand gently and squeezed it. Dallas had been in labor for almost 15 hours now and had murder in her eyes.

Tim couldn't blame her for wanting to murder him. He kissed her head. It turns out, Dallas was allergic to Epidural and all the other medicines they tried didn't really help her, so she had felt almost everything for the last 15 hours.

"I'm going to kill you after this..." She grumbled as another contraction passed.

22 hours....

Tim grunted as Dallas squeezed his hand again. The pushing had come, and Tim had looked to see the baby, having been told it was a miracle. Well, turns out, that is a trap and he never looked again, just Focusing on Dallas. "You're almost done babe." He said softly as she panted.

Her blocked out her profanity in exchange for the sound of a sheer cry. Tim looked at the child and felt his eyes water.

"It's a boy." A nurse said

He left Dallas to watch them clean his son off, revealing the soft blond hair the kid had. The nurses swaddled him and handed Tim the child. Tim awkwardly held the kid before crying a bit.

His son looked a lot like him, but had some features of Dallas, like the ears and the general face shape.

"You plan on sharing?" Dallas asked quietly in amusement.

Tim blushed embarassed and handed their son to her. She held him with a fond smile, as all her worry melted away. She kissed his red forehead and giggled.

It was strange for Tim to see her hold a baby with such a fond look, but he just smiled. It was a good strange.

He sat by her and put his arm under her and kissed her head. "Not bad."

And thus, Ethan Shepard had entered the world.

[imlostinsantacarla]

How do the gang (individually) react to a SO who's affectionate and supportive

heya hun! i’m so glad you’ve requested this, it was fun to write. i added tim and curly too bc they deserve some love also. i hope that you like what i came up with! - admin kat 🌙❣

HOW THE GANG REACT TO HAVING A S/O WHO’S AFFECTIONATE AND SUPPORTIVE:

Darry: doesn’t always seem like it but he doesn’t ever take your affection and support for granted, although he may come across as cold. he’s a tad bit overwhelmed when he comes home and you plaster yourself to him like glue, he can even appear irritated but he knows that you’re just showing you love him in the only way you know best. he just wishes that you’d give him a minute to get through the door and shower first before you latch onto him. nevertheless, darry is genuinely over the moon when you support him, his brothers and the gang. his hearts wells up like the grinch when he finds the meaning of christmas! it’s in the little things like when you patch steve and soda up after they’ve gotten into a fight with soc’s. helping ponyboy and johnnycake study on the living room floor. talking dal out of some real dumb shit. even by sitting at the kitchen table with him and sifting through all the bills. he turns into the biggest sucker ever when you do this stuff. all the little things you do never get’s overlooked by him. it definitely helps ease his stress knowing that his partner supports him no matter what.

Sodapop: genuinely loves you even more for both of these endearing qualities, if that’s even logically possible??? he loves that your affection and attention is on him 25/7 and when you give it to him... boii is like !!!!!!!!!!!!!! he just knows you love him so much and he’s so excited by it. your support really reinforces it all the more if i’m honest. soda actually balled once about you supporting him bc he opened up to you about a dream of his which was to open up an auto repair shop with steve and you were like “cool stuff man let’s do this!”. and he was believing you’d knock his head in like dar would, but he just was star struck with you. steve had to calm his ass tf down bc soda’s a gREASER AND GREASERS DON’T CRY IDK WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!!! but yeah, he thinks he’s so dumb and stuff, but to have you support him and lift him up makes him unbelievably happy. 11/10 a happy boiii.

Ponyboy: totally gets all blushy when you get affectionate with him in front of others (namely the gang) bc they tease tf out of him. those boys never let him live shit down like that. it only makes you pinch his cheeks and wiggle his face in your hands and that’s when two-bit can’t stop laughing and has to tell the others. he’s a bit sour afterwards but there’s no hard feelings. boii is  s o f t  as hell for you and loves your affection and support. you never fail to brighten his day tbh. he wants your attention on him 25/8 like soda and becomes a pouty baby when you don’t give him it. and your support? *chef kiss* makes his whole world better bc despite the fact he’s not tough and all, but more sensitive, you’re there for him through it all. did i mention he get’s butterflies and his heart gallops- pls don’t shoot me it had to be said!

Steve: loves it even when he says he hates it. steve loves your hugs, kisses, the way you play with his hair when you cuddle, you name it. just not when the guys are around. gotta keep up the greaser image *finger guns*. you tend to show up at his work with lunch and he’s got complete heart eyes bc you’re all over him. there’s no way in hell soda lets him live that ish down lmaoo. you support him more emotionally and mentally though, which he’s so grateful for because things with his old man can get pretty bad at times and he needs someone like you to bring his big butt down to earth when he’s all high on anger and frustration. like, he’s super hurt when it comes to his dad, so he’ll be ranting and raving up a storm and you’re listening but bleary eyed bc he woke your ass up as 3 in the gODDAMN MORNING and he’s talking about how his life is so shit and you come out with “well i’m not going anywhere but if you don’t get into my bed and let me sleep i’m gonna beat your ass with my pillow”. he’s stunned? bc first of all, you’re a freaking pip squeak compared to him who can’t even hurt a fly, but there’s another part of him that’s taken aback bc you’ve literally opened up your world and door to him for anytime. would 10/10 recommend this joyful boi.

Two-bit: honestly, can’t seem to get enough of you, particularly your affection, but namely your support. it’s kinda a tie can’t you see?? he’s not even annoyed or abashed when you go heavy on the affection, even in front of the guys, if anything, he’s gloating about it and hanging off of you just as much, if not more! if anyone teases you guys or makes a comment he’s got some snazzy comeback, two’s riddled with them. i swear they fall from his mouth like casual small talk. kinda starts fist fights with steve a lot when he does bc our stevie-boi is a bit sensitive. he literally somehow falls in love with you even more bc you’re supporting him positively to cut down on his drinking, get on with his school work a little more, etc. like how can he possibly deserve this literal angel that is you? he probably cries when you’re not looking. i’m not even kidding. probs just bursts into tears and pony and johnny are like you ok mannn???

Johnny: blushes the most out of everyone when you give him affection, especially when anyone’s around. he’s such a happy smol bean and he just loves you with his whole heart and universe like omg! your support means the world to him, he’d cry and be so messed up without you. but you still make him cry nonetheless. but they’re happy tears, i promise!! like he’s so astounded bc you let him stay at your’s bc your parent’s understand the situation and let him come round whenever he wants. you make sure he’s well fed and get’s a good amount of sleep in a place that’s not the lot? you complete him. you make him see that he’s more than just some kid with a bad home in a bad neighborhood... he can be anything and anyone as long as you’re by his side. the little butterflies he get’s when he sees you- !!!

Dallas: not so happy about the affection part in front of others (unless he’s jealous and wants to prove to everyone you’re his) just bc it’s uncomfy for him and he ain’t used to it. but that’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy having you all over him! bc if it was up to him he’d have you all over him every second of every day if he could. ;) in private though he’ll gripe about how mushy you are, reluctantly leaning into your embrace or letting you kiss him. like you’ll want to cuddle or hold his hand and he’ll eventually relent, muttering about broads and stuff. he only makes it seem like he hates it but he actually loves it to pieces. and when you play with his hair??? mmmmmmmm boi is putty in your hands. but seriously, your support means a lot to dal, it shows that you’re loyal to him and if you’re loyal to him he’s loyal to you. like the way you show up at the cooler to visit him brings such a huge smile to his face. no broads done that for him before. treat dally with care bc this boii is sensitive. 12/10 a happy duck.

Tim: kinda iffy about the affection. he’s a tough son of a gun and can’t have everyone knowing he’s got a partner that hangs onto him like a fly does to honey. he loves it though, really, especially when people are looking at you in interest, it serves a purpose then. he’s also in love with when you do it to freak out curly. it honestly made him cry of laughter once bc curly was about to yack in a garbage can. fun times man... fun times. anyway... your support is super wonderful for him. you visit him in the cooler a lot when he goes in, which he didn’t expect bc most people he’s dated never did that or were too mad to even show up. but here you are. you also take care of curly and angela like your own, opening up your door to them and him. he’s got a soft spot for you okay? it’s especially so bc his home life is so bad with his step dad and mum chucking things left right and center, then everyone else joining on in. it’s a tiring place. if he looks back... he doesn’t know how in the hell he survived without you before you came along and wouldn’t know how to go on without you by his side to help. but tell no one that okay?  s o f t  b o i  v i b e s 

Curly: mad happy like. until someone fucking mentions it that is. then he’s all talk and trying to get you off him. you roll your eyes bc curly’s really more talk than action and most people know it. but nevertheless, he wants everyone to know you’re his so loves it when you hang onto him like a vice. he’s not really had much affection in his life, so it’s new but he can’t seem to get enough of it. deffo a happy puppy when he gets the affection and attention. and curly’s not all that smart either, but having your support helps him to see that he just see’s things differently from other people and that school isn’t everything. and that’s okay tbh. however, you don’t support his bad behavior but you also know that you can’t change him unless he wants to change himself. he’s only just starting to get these boundaries, just give him a chance. loves your cuddles bc he can fall asleep and he always has a tough time falling asleep bc he doesn’t feel like he can trust anyone other than his brother and sister. and now he’s got you. thank god! literally the sweetest chick ever

If you enjoyed this please heart, reblog and follow for more. 🌙❣

[affectionatealien]

Puppet Thieving

Summary: Flower protag has reached a new peak of stress trying to juggle helping out the habiticians and deal with Dr. Habit’s constant antagonizing behavior. They rope Tim Tam into helping them with a very dumb spur of the moment idea and find themselves regretting it near instantly. 

Warnings: None

A/N: I don’t ever write but like. Smile For Me has really put me in the mood for it sdfjakldsa. So here’s something featuring my flower kid sona having dumb puppet troubles.

It had been a nervewracking morning. Noon was approaching and I was still waiting on the terrace, and not quite as patiently as I was for the couple of hours before. I still hadn't seen Tim Tam, and I couldn't help but feel terribly sick at the idea they might have been caught for the dumb, dumb thing I roped them into doing (though, if I was being fair to myself, it was something Tim Tam still might have done without my interference).

It all started with another morning PSA- the expected 'advice' Habit gave out in his attempt to keep all the habiticians down and in need of this place, and some sort of decreasingly passive and mountingly aggressive message that almost everyone had figured was aimed at me. And, above all that, that damn puppet. Expressionless, taunting. He'd never shown his own face on camera, just that goofy little muppet rendition of himself. I couldn't help but wonder if he didn't have the dumb thing if he'd make so many of these PSAs. Or maybe if it... Disappeared he'd have to come looking for it, stop being holed up in his office. Or at the very least he'd become distraught enough to take some sort of focus away from trying to discourage me from what I'd been doing. But it was wishful thinking. There wasn't any way to get that thing away from him. Unless you were Tim Tam. Or unless you could bribe Tim Tam. Tim Tam could probably be bribed, right? 

As it turned out, Tim Tam COULD be bribed. And with what seemed to just be random junk out of my bouquet, too. Or maybe they were just that excited about getting to steal something that they didn't really care. Knowing (or more accurately, not knowing) Tim Tam, I was better off not pondering too long. However they were still gone, and it was enough to make me worry. I didn't think it would take that long to get into Habit's office, and maybe it didn't and they were just dilly dallying elsewhere. If they were, I suppose I really wasn't able to complain. What I knew though was that the more time that passed the worse of an idea it dawned on me this was. Why involve some kid in some bizarre, almost one sided feud with this strange doctor? Was I really that petty and unthinking? 

"Hey." A tiny voice snapped me out of my catastrophizing, while something was shoved into my back. "Found him." Sure enough I turned around, face to face with Tim Tam- and the blank expression of a green little puppet (or maybe not so little- it was odd how much bigger the thing looked in person). Perfect. I snatched it from them, perhaps a little rudely, but there were cameras and I didn't want to get caught right then. Tim Tam continued to linger, and had produced a lighter from... Somewhere. "Let's teach him a lesson." 

"AH! W-wait!" I blurted out, as I snatched the puppet into the air. Not that I was sure that would stop a determined Tim Tam. "We- I need to do this. I'll get rid of this dumb thing myself." I said, firm. "Besides, I'm the one he seems hellbent on antagonizing. It's only fair." Tim Tam stood motionless for a moment, expression unchanging, before returning the lighter to an unseen pocket.

"Fine. You owe me." That wasn't a problem, since I'd arrived here I was doing people favors. What was one more? I gave them a quick 'okay' sign, before I retreated back to the apartment floor. The puppet had been stuffed under my arm as stealthily as possible, which was to say not very stealthy in any way. I got lucky and didn't run into anyone on my beeline to my room, and once I was in shut the door, locking it. A wave of relief washed over me as I flopped onto my bed- so far this hadn't gone nearly as disastrously as my previous spiraling made me think it would. With the puppet in hand, I turned it over carefully, examining it, trying to decide what I would do to it. If I burned it that would be satisfying, but an incredibly bad idea since I was indoors. Defacing it would be easy enough, all I needed was a sharpie or some paint for that, but maybe that was too simple. I could just pull it apart, or...

That train of thought seemed to fizzle out, as my will seemed to falter. The more I looked at it, the more I thought about how well made it seemed to be... Had Habit made it himself? Was it that important to him? Why did that even matter now? I'd set out to get rid of this thing for some peace of mind and I should do it. But I couldn't. Instead all I thought about now was Tiff talking about the doctor's wailing and crying when she'd bring up her contract. When he noticed his puppet was gone is that what he'd do? Would he search for it, distraught and upset, resigned to sobbing once it wasn't anywhere he'd searched? Sheesh, if the plans I had for that puppet weren't already guilt inspiring, that imagery was the icing on this awful cake. I looked the puppet over again, trying to see if even a shred of hostility could be mustered. Instead, all I could think was how when it wasn't being used to mock or instigate things with me it was awfully cute even... A reminder of that soft side Kamal seemed to insist exists somewhere in the doctor. 

And it dawned on me. The crumpled, trashed diary pages I was given every so often by other habiticians that had originally inspired some pang of sympathy before Habit became outright hostile, paired with this- Habit wasn't the cold, easy to fight antagonist who needed to be confronted and triumphed over like I'd tried to make myself believe he was. It was much more complicated than that. He was hurt, most likely lashing out, and it could be stopped. I knew from experience, I knew from being there. And trying to hurt him or stuff he obviously found important wouldn't help. It'd just make him buckle down on his belief that I was the enemy, and that I was someone coming after him personally. I had to change it somehow- I had to show him I'm not. 

I sighed, resigned, and placed the puppet carefully onto my bed before sitting next to it. That wasn't exactly the best time to have this revelation, seeing that I had well. Still stolen the puppet. What was I supposed to do with this thing if I wasn't going to just toss it out the window? There was no way for me to get to his office to return it. And Tim Tam would certainly destroy it if I gave it back to them. I was left with the evidence of a crime I couldn't even bring myself to commit. Still, I stared at the little puppet, trying to think of anything I could do to get it back to him, or at the very least tell him I was sorry. Not that he'd care probably, but I had to at least try if I wanted my plan to work. 

I still had my sketchpad with me from home, so I tore a page from it- maybe I could leave the puppet with a note somewhere inconspicuous for him to find it. That might work. So I stared at the paper for what felt like too long, and tried to come up with a satisfactory explanation or apology or anything to say. Instead, all I found myself able to write was a simple 'I'm sorry'- nothing quite seemed to come to mind after that. How very eloquent I was, god. With a resigned sigh, I left the note with the puppet. I might as well go spend the rest of my day somewhere else and try not to think about this just yet. 

After a bit of wandering, I found myself back on the terrace- it had been a sunny day and god knew I needed something like that. There was a soft breeze too, which only added to the wistful vibe the terrace seemed to have.  From where I was standing I saw Kamal in his regular spot- and at the moment it felt like talking to him might be a good idea to clear up some of what was on my mind. "Oh- Hey flower kid. You find the old janitor's ID yet?" Kamal asked as I approached. I shook my head, I had still been helping others out and hadn't really gotten around to finding him at the moment. I opted to sit next to him on the bench he'd practically taken up residence on, and earned a stare and a tilt of his head. "Is uh. Something bothering ya...?" He asked again, looking a little more concerned than usual. I gave a resigned nod, trying to gather my thoughts. "Kamal... You said you know a lot about Dr. Habit because you worked for him right?" I asked.

"Well. Yeah. I told you, I have all kinds of dirt on the guy-" 

"Not that. You said you thought I could talk to him because he's... Got that soft spot and all. How was he when he was... Like that?" It took me a moment to find the words, but Kamal seemed to follow, especially with how he was taken aback.  

"Well, for starters I guess, he was uh. Always pretty friendly. I mean I was just the guy's assistant but he always treated me a little more like... A friend? Though it uh, could be pretty awkward, he was well meaning I guess." Kamal recalled. "And Habit is way into like... Any artsy crafty stuff. I mean, I'm sure you've seen all the murals of himself he put up. I was there when he did a lot of them and he sorta just. Went to town with that kinda thing. It's probably the happiest I've seen him you know?" 

"Yeah... So, does that mean he made that little puppet too...?" 

"I mean, I'd imagine he did. That thing was around before I was though, so who knows. How come...?"

"A-ah. No reason at all. Just was... On the mind I guess." I replied, perhaps a little too quickly.  

"So uhh, what's up with the sudden interest in Habit...? Last I talked you kinda seemed pretty mad at him..."

"I was but... Uh, I guess things have changed. Kinda. I just... I dunno, I'm trying to find some kinda insight on why he's doing this. Why me existing is something he takes so personal and whatever." 

"Ohhh. I gotcha. Well, I mean for starters you're kinda out here doing what he's been trying to for awhile... Probably doesn't feel great to watch some stranger come in and accomplish what you've been working at for years." He pointed out. I nodded understandingly- of course he'd take something like that so gravely. "...And if it helps any, even if it seems well, personal, I don't think he really feels that way about it. I think him acting like that has well... A lot more to do with the state of mind he's been in. Like I said, the dude hasn't been doing exactly great."

"That makes sense yeah... It sounds like stuff's been. Sorta crumbling for him lately." I said. Not a necessarily astute observation, but it's all I could really think to say.

"Sheesh, you can say that for sure. Stuff's gotten uglier and uglier. But... I really do think you can help him. You've certainly got a knack for it and all. And something makes me think he'll listen to you, too." Kamal reassured. I gave him a weak smile, which he returns for a split moment. 

"Thanks. I really needed to hear that I think... This has been pretty insightful, so uh. Thanks again and all." 

"Don't mention it! Just remember we should probably get going with this whole 'get into his office' plan pretty soon... The way things have been it's uh. Certainly better sooner than later." Kamal reminded me. I nodded as I stood, and gave a short wave as I left the terrace.

The rest of the day passed quickly in the lounge with a couple of drinks and a head full of thoughts- curfew had come before I knew it and I'd found my way back to my room, tired from what felt like too full of a day. And there on my bed, was that poor hostage of a puppet. I couldn't help but pick it up, almost absentmindedly as I settled into bed, looking it over again. 'It's so soft...' I thought to myself, touching its felted face. For a moment it reminded me of the plush collection I had back home, and how I maybe regretted not bringing any of it with me. It certainly made sleeping easier, which was something I could use more than anything considering how restless this place would leave me. 

'No. Absolutely not, I will NOT let myself.' I thought while staring down the puppet. Things were already strange enough, and to be teetering on the edge of letting myself cuddle this... Felted double of the man who I had to help despite his antagonistic nature, on the pretense of maybe sleeping better was beyond ridiculous. Even if it WAS soft and I WAS petting a hand over its hair as I tried desperately to dissuade myself. Well maybe it wouldn't be as weird if I just left it next to my pillow. And just put one hand over it. That wasn't cuddling it so obviously it was fine, nothing weird to see here. I just had to lay  like that and try to decide whether or not I'd toss it on the floor like I probably should have. Unless I drifted off, still undecided with the little puppet laid next to me, its little hands flopped over mine.... Which is exactly what happened.

I couldn't remember ever sleeping well enough to be awoken by the morning PSA, instead always waking a few minutes before it would start, feeling drowsy and unrested. But that's exactly what happened that morning- I awoke to that familiar tune, tacky yellow font, and.... That puppet? Weird, this was a new one. Had he recorded this before his puppet was gone? 

Once I was more awake, I was aware that the puppet had vanished from its spot next to me- peering over the bedside confirmed that it wasn't shoved into the floor like I'd emptily threatened before sleeping either. Not under the bed, or anywhere else in the room either. Had someone... Taken it?

That did seem to jog my memory. But it's of a dream, from the night before... Or what feels like one at the least. One of my own room, dark and quiet and still. I wasn't alone, a figure hovered quietly. It was tall, looming, but not quite menacing- it seemed somber. Maybe thoughtful. It reached for the puppet, but not before sliding my hand from on top of it, like it was careful to not disturb me too much. It stayed for another moment, and it almost seemed... Remorseful? But what for? And with the puppet, it vanished.

The rest of the PSA played, and for once, it didn't have any 'special message' for me. How strange.

[forlornmelody]

Traitor, Martyr, Spy--Chapter 4: What They Don’t Know Will Kill Them

Rating: Explicit (some chapters have smut)

Ship: Miranda Lawson x Femshep

AO3 Link: Here

Summary:  Miranda gathers information from her contacts about Oriana's disappearance. Each step she takes brings her closer to her past, and closer to danger.

-------

With her liaison with Artemis out of the way, Miranda hopes she can focus more on the task at hand. She’s already dallied too long, and Oriana may already be out of her reach. But she must keep looking.

Her first contact meets her in a public restroom, tucked away from security cameras and C-Sec’s purview. Not everyone wants their whereabouts noticed by law enforcement. Miranda closes the bathroom stall behind her, locks it, and knocks on the wall three times. The person on the other side knocks twice in reply. Good. An imposter would imitate the number of knocks exactly.

Neither of them speaks, in case the room has been bugged. And they turn their omni-tools off in turn. Sometimes the best way to avoid an enemy interception to exchange their information on paper. An expensive act with so many of the galaxy’s forests protected by Council Law, but no one can hack paper.

Miranda has never been fond of contamination, though her immune system will fight off nearly anything without a single symptom--likely her father’s work. She just can’t stand the thought of sullying her tailored uniform, let alone her skin. The thought of sitting on a toilet makes her want to vomit, so Miranda squats instead, and reaches under the door for the slip of paper.

Synthetic gloves brush against hers, and Miranda reads a slip the size of a cookie fortune. The front has a date--the date Oriana was taken. The back has a name--her father’s. Before Miranda can ask why or where--her contact slams the door open and walks out of the restroom without washing their hands.

-----

That night Miranda dreams of her father’s estate. The postmodern mansion nestled in Bellevue Hill had spaces most humans only dreamed off. Three floors, tennis courts, climbing walls, a heated mosaic swimming pool and alfresco patio just outside the home theater and library. Views of Sydney Harbour on the outside and crisp, clean black, white, and gold interiors within. Henry Lawson’s first floor served as yet another entertainment space with a grand open floor plan, carport, formal and informal living spaces with plush cushions and well-lit interiors. His second floor had a master suite, and three additional bedrooms. Miranda would have preferred to keep her bedroom as far from possible from her father, but he insisted she sleep in the room closest to the guest bathroom. So he could show her off to his guests, most likely. Her father always did enjoy parading her around like some sort of trophy.

That was what their guests saw. Henry never offered to show them where the car-sized elevator descended after they left. They assumed Henry Lawson had a private collection of luxury cars and didn’t care to reveal them to would-be gossipers and thieves. Or perhaps he stored proprietary information and projects down there. Surely all would come to light at the right time. Growing up, even Miranda wasn’t to take the vehicle elevator. The first time she tried--her father locked her in his walk-in closet for three days. The second time--when she had successfully moved from the ground floor to the basement only to be caught before she could open the doors--he forced her hand upon the stovetop burners until her skin had burned black. Much to his satisfaction, her skin healed within a week. It was then she started wearing black gloves to cover the bandages.

Miranda knows immediately where she has ended up in this nightmare. It’s the storage room--the room she finally breached on her third attempt. Goosebumps race down her skin and won’t go away no matter how much she tries to rub them off. Her legs carry her on auto pilot, and Miranda feels like a prisoner in her own skin. Glass vats lined the concrete, windowless walls, carrying humanoid shapes in various stages of development--from embryos to newborn. One vat, in the corner, has a form that matches her baby pictures. Ice shoots down Miranda’s spine.

She reads through his journal entries and listens to his audio logs. Miranda is Sample 37--Henry Lawson’s most successful attempt at creating a daughter. He had always told her mother had died in childbirth. Here she learns she has no mother--only cloned tissue with altered chromosomes. Some of Henry’s earlier attempts included sons--but he quickly decided girls were easier to influence and mold into his image. But what happened to her brothers and sisters?

The Illusive Man always welcomes additional specimens. He most highly prizes those with biotic abilities--paying double for those with the genetic markers. Perhaps he wants to fashion and train his own biotic army.

Henry must have loved the idea--an entire army of biotic soldiers who resemble his best features. It made Miranda want to throw up.

Miranda shows so much promise, but she asks too many questions. I will not be repeating the incident with Sample 25. As soon as Sample 38 is ready I will give the Illusive Man a call. I think I will call her Ariel.

“Miri? What are you doing down here?”

Jerking around, Miranda closes the Haptic Adaptive Interface behind her. Nicket looks at her wide-eyed, his face quickly turning green at the site of all the vats around him. “I need your help.”

------

Miranda wakes up in a cold sweat, still hearing the hum of her father’s machines in her ears as she takes a shower. Even the water can’t wash off the slimy feeling of the fluid behind the glass. It’s as if she’s still trapped in one of those vats herself. I won’t let you him hurt you, Ori. I promise.

Her next contact agrees to meet with Miranda during an upcoming Hanar Enkindlers Rally. It seems an odd time to be hosting a religious event, but then again, perhaps not. With the Reapers destroying the known universe, perhaps some of Hanar are looking for answers in their ancestral religions. Miranda never considered herself particularly spiritual. The only religion her father raised in her is one of wealth and influence--like prosperity gospel and eugenics had an incestuous child.

And then there’s the surprise arrival of a real-live Prothean to the Citadel. Of course, Artemis is involved, why wouldn’t she be? Her Asari archeologist friend, Liara T’soni, must be over the moon.

Mixing in with the crowd, Miranda makes a move to activate the biolumincent translators in her ears, but she really activates a private communication channel instead. The Hanar light up in a gorgeous cascade of colors as the rally begins, and her contact steps up beside her, keeping her eyes forward to the stage. A once infamous Hanar preacher takes the stage as Miranda’s contact pings her coms.

He’s really moved up in the world, hasn’t he? Her contact’s mouth never opens. Instead, she ‘speaks’ by typing out a message on her thighs. Instantaneously cybernetic pads in her fingers relay the message to both their comms.

Miranda eyes the stage--a ceiling high banner displays what must be a photograph of the recently awakened Prothean. Though she’s never studied the facial expressions of that ancient race, she can’t help but think he looks unimpressed with the photographer. He sure has. The fearful masses must be funding this Hanar preacher’s rally--where else would he have secured the funds? How is my father? Is he well?

They don’t dare speak plainly. Hanar bioluminescence, when propagated in high numbers, does produce a sort of digital interference against most prying eyes and ears--especially those over long distances. But there’s still a chance someone else in the crowd will be trying to listen in.

More than well, I hear he landed a new project with his old friend Tim.

Alarms ring in Miranda’s mind so loudly she swears the Hanar surrounding them can hear. I’m sorry. Could you repeat that? Her father disavowed Cerberus after The Illusive Man took her in and refused to give her up. He was one of Cerberus’s largest supporters, and took some time (and a few assassinations) for the Illusive Man to replenish his resources.

Your father is working for Tim.

Before Miranda can argue, her contact has disappeared through the waves glowing tentacles. Miranda is about to go looking for them when the Hanar next to her suddenly goes dark. Their levitation pack still functions, and so the Hanar goes on floating, but its pink color quickly fades to gray. It happens so suddenly Miranda forgets to turn her translator back on. Instead of screams, she sees each of the surrounding members of the crowd flash red and black as they flee from the corpse.

Assassin.

Miranda heard no shot fired, nor impact of a bullet or laser. The dead hangar didn’t move, as if hit by a blast.

Stab wound?

No. No strangulation marks either.

She recalls the warning signs on the beaches back home. MARINE STINGERS ARE PRESENT IN THESE WATERS DURING SUMMER MONTHS. The first aid stations providing vinegar. Miranda scans the body and finds stingers lodged in the Hanar’s skin.

A rare Hanar assassin and Miranda is surrounded by suspects.

She can’t stay on the Citadel, not anymore. Running to the elevator she scans security feeds of her apartment to confirm what she already knows--someone has turned it upside down looking for her. Too bad for them--she never leaves anything behind.

It’s only later Miranda remembers that back on Earth--jellyfish never sting their own species. She hacks into the database of the nearest morgue and finds what she already suspects--the venom came from a Terran jellyfish, delivered with stingers made of steel, not flesh. A chill runs down her spine when she spots the scientific name: chironex fleckeri. It couldn’t be any sort of jellyfish venom, no. Whoever the assassin was--they chose the species from the shores of Sydney. Someone is trying to send her a message.

Too bad for them--I’m not listening. Not to Cerberus. Not to her father. Not to anyone.

-------

Just after Miranda lands on Illium, all of Miranda’s contacts on the Citadel go dark. Reapers? No. Their access to the galaxy’s political center was cut off when Shepard battled Saren. That left Miranda only one possibility. Only one party who would have the interest and the resources to take over the Citadel to quickly and easily, with no warning.

Cerberus.

Which meant Ori wasn’t there when it happened. Their father would never allow Ori that close to danger. Would he?

And Shepard was still on Tuchanka. Miranda had been following Artemis’s exploits on that barren, irradiated planet. On a lark, she looks up for Alliance News updates, and her heart plummets to her stomach.

Genophage Cured. Normandy Departs Arlak System and Krogan DMZ.

Her heart thunders inside her ribcage. Please not the Citadel. Please. Miranda hacks into Alliance Space Traffic Control, and finds the Normandy docked at the Citadel.

Artemis. With every comm dark, Miranda can’t even log into C-Sec’s cameras. It’s worse than when Artemis was under house arrest.

After several agonizing hours, Miranda’s contacts check in, or at least, some do. Shepard is alive. Thane Krios is in critical condition. Councilor Udina is dead, as he should be. Bastard.

Miranda sends Shepard a message, telling her to meet her on the Citadel. But she has no intention of going in person. Instead she hacks into Alliance QEC. Surely Shepard will understand.

QEC’s are hard to come by, especially in war, so Miranda finds one in an Illium high rise, belonging to a board member who serves as a de facto politician. The board member should have gone home for the day, leaving her office, and her Quantum Entanglement Communicator available for use.

The QEC shimmers as Artemis materializes in its hologram. She hasn’t showered--still covered in soot, dirt, bruises, and cuts. But she’s standing. And she’s breathing. Miranda lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank God you’re alright.”

Artemis glowers at her in blue. “I’m fine.” Her eyes are puffy and would probably be red from crying if the QEC didn’t blue tint everything coming through its feeds.

“Artemis--”

“Miranda. You told me you’d meet me here. You lied.”

“The Citadel isn’t safe.”

“I know that, Miri,” Artemis spits. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I just fended off a fucking coup.”

Artemis never swears, except in cases of high emotion. Sometimes Miranda wonders if she does it on purpose so that her expletives carry more punch when she finally uses them. Miranda feels a jolt in her gut.

Before she can even open her mouth, Artemis continues. “You could have died, Miranda. And I wouldn’t know until I got here.”

“I want to be there, in person, but I can’t. Someone already tried to assassinate me.”

Artemis’s eyes widen, and her shoulders sag. “Kai Leng?”

“What?”

“He tried to take out Councilor Valern.”

Miranda recalls the flames she trapped him in. The stench of burning flesh. Leng’s scream loud, then gradually muffled as she flees the scene. “That slippery bastard’s still alive?”

Artemis nods, and Miranda swears under her breath. “That complicates things. I’ll be on my guard.”

Her love continues to soften, unwilling to part in anger. “Miri. Be careful.”

If only. They both know nothing cared for is safe in war. “I can’t promise that. Could you?”

Artemis closes her eyes, and it’s hard to tell through the flickering projection, but Miranda swears she sees a glimmer of a tear. She hasn’t seen her cry since Aratoht. “Artemis, we’ll get through this.”

Her gaze hardens as she snaps back. “You can’t promise that either.”

“I know.” I wish I could. They talk about Ori, and Miranda tells her what she knows, which isn’t much. Artemis bristles at the mention of Cerberus, especially at the mention of Miranda’s father, but she doesn’t insist on helping. Maybe she trusts Miranda to take care of herself. Or perhaps, she’s tired of playing cat and mouse.

“I love you,” Miranda says, and she hears footsteps outside.

“Huh? Who’s in there?” the guard calls out, flashing a light inside the dark office Miranda’s borrowing.

“I’ve got to go.” Miranda closes the QEC before Artemis can reply.

-------

Miranda knows when Oriana was taken, and who likely is involved, but where did they take her? Henry Lawson’s home stands only as a pile of rubble after the Reapers touched down. Where would that monster go after his original lair was destroyed? If he was working with the Illusive Man….

She wakes up several hours later, with her desk as her pillow, and her Haptic Adaptive Interface glowing into her eyeballs. Looking at the screen, Miranda searches for meaning in the jumble of letters across her screen, but the words might as well be written in Prothean. You’re no use to Oriana like this.

After showering, Miranda meanders through the stock exchange of Nos Astra, listening to everything and nothing while she tries to decide what to eat. One Asari is complaining about her boss, another is ranting about her partner, a volus insists on buying an attachment that clearly isn’t designed for their physiology. Miranda’s stomach growls. Do Asari make sushi? They are known for their seafood. Opening her omni tool, Miranda hears an advertisement blaring from a nearby terminal.

“If you’re not sure where to go, come to Sanctuary. We’ll keep you safe.” Maybe blaring is the wrong word. The words flow more like a soft whisper. Calming. Soothing. Beckoning. Just as the advertisement switches to the next slot, Miranda waves her omni-tool for more information, and a chill runs down her spine.

At first glance, Sanctuary seems innocuous enough, necessary even. A sort of refugee camp in the partially abandoned colony of Horizon. Miranda calls the information number and listens to the automated message.

Welcome to your new home, the voice over drips into her ears like honeyed wine. Sanctuary accepts one and all, providing safety and comfort to those who have lost their homes. We use state of the art technology to protect you and your loved ones. Let us be your Sanctuary.

It sounds less like a refugee camp, and more like a luxury resort.

As Miranda listens, she continues scrolling through Sanctuary’s Extranet site. She has no reason to suspect her father in this, and yet everything seems to have his fingerprints on it. The clean, crisp aesthetics, the terraced gardens, pristine, and entirely unnecessary water features. You couldn’t just build a refugee camp, could you, Father. You had to make it your mansion, too.

The touch-tone menu provides options for housing assistance, employment opportunities, directions and coordinates, and the resident directory. When Miranda selects the last option, she’s directed to an error message.

Due to the high volume of calls, the resident directory is unavailable at this time. Please check back later.

It’s not so much about what information line says, but what it doesn’t say. Even the news sources Miranda consults have little to say beyond the press releases provided. She has no proof, none, but her father must be involved. Or perhaps, it’s the sleep-deprivation talking.

All pomp and circumstance about his grand estate--until someone asks to go down the car elevator.

Miranda has no other leads. She could be completely off-base with this conspiracy theory, but what else can she do? She can’t give up on her sister. Opening her omni-tool, Miranda makes a few calls.

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 40

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

A/N: *shrug* 

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

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Chapter 40 - Strong

"No!" Rae shrieked, her voice carrying over her friends’. 

But she knew it was too late. She heard the gunshots and saw her brother drop to his knees. 

"Dally!" She screamed until her voice gave out. She took off, shoving Two-Bit and Soda out of her way. 

And finally, finally, he turned his head towards her. He had bullet wounds dripping blood all down the front of his shirt. She saw his blue eyes fading as they met hers. The look on his face almost made her crumble. He-he wanted this.

"Rae…?" he whispered, staring at her as she approached. She watched as a tear escaped his eye and his body dropped to the ground.

Her legs gave out as soon as she reached him and she fell to the ground, scraping her knees on the pavement. She should’ve felt pain, but she didn’t. She didn’t feel anything but despair. She had been too late. 

He’d saved her countless times and she couldn’t even save him once. She was useless.

"Dally...," she started, looking down at his face, a few stray tears dropping on to his skin. "Dally, don't leave me." She’d beg. She’d do anything if he’d just- She saw him look up at her with soft eyes, a barely perceptible smile on his lips.

But then, he was gone. Shock coursed through Rae’s body.

"You...you promised me, Dally,” she whispered, lip quivering. “You said you’d always be here to help me.” The police who had just pumped him full of bullets started gathering in front of her. She didn’t care. A sudden jolt of anger shot through her veins. She hit the hard pavement with clenched fists. She felt loose rocks embed themselves in the sides of her hands. When she lifted them, blood dripped down to the ground. It ran down her arm and soaked her sleeve. "You promised!" Her voice echoed through the park. One of the boys came up from behind her and took hold of one of her hands. 

"Let me go!" she shrieked as loud as she could, she forced her hand out of his grasp. She glared up at him, her eyes, her heart, going icy. Steve stood above her. He took a step back, staring down at her with wide eyes.

“Rae,” he said, barely above a whisper. His words quivered, voice breaking. “You-your eyes…” She looked away from him and back down to her brother’s cooling body, trying to memorize his face. Steve dropped to his knees on the ground next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he wiped away his own tears and reached out to her. “Rae?”

She smacked his hands away, but he forcefully grabbed her face and made her look at him. She exhaled a loud, angry breath through her nose and tried to pull herself out of his grasp.

"No," he said. She tried again, but his hold grew tighter. "No." 

She needed to look away. She couldn't face him now. She couldn’t face anyone now. She couldn't look anyone in the eyes or she might break. Dally would hate that. Dally would be disappointed if she broke. Dally was always telling her to be strong, right? Right? 

"Rae, please." She heard Steve begging her to look at him. Her chest was heaving, eyes burning. What should she do? If she looked at him, the strength her brother distilled in her would definitely dissolve. She wasn't supposed to. She couldn’t…

"Rae…" She felt strong arms wrap around her waist from behind, Two-Bit’s voice filtering through her thoughts. She felt him press his body against hers. "Rae, this isn’t you. Dally wouldn’t want you to be hard like him." 

Her body started shaking. She couldn’t hold it back much longer. They couldn’t just say his name. She couldn’t breathe-

"It's okay," Steve said. Finally, when she couldn’t avoid it any longer, she looked at her friend. He nodded, new tears spilling from his eyes. “It doesn’t make you weak. It’ll make you stronger.” 

At his words, Rae felt all of the fight leave her body. The hardness in her eyes faded and she felt a hole open up in her chest. Tears started flowing out as sobs wracked her entire body. Steve released her head, and she dropped into his chest. She grabbed on to his jean vest, shoving her wet face into his shirt as she cried. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. Two-Bit released her, but she could hear him sniffling behind her.

"Dally…," she whined, her words muffled by Steve’s mud-caked shirt. 

In the time it took her to calm down, Ponyboy had fainted and fell to the hard ground. Two-Bit came clean, crying as he confessed the youngest Curtis brother had a fever earlier in the day, but made him promise not to tell. They were all just a huge, fucking mess.

By the time the ambulances arrived, Rae was completely devoid of tears. Her body was still shaking, but she had nothing left in her. The police had laid a white sheet over Dally’s body, and Steve had pulled her to her feet, wanting to move her farther away, but she was too weak to stay upright, and he set her back down again. As Darry lifted Pony from the pavement to take him over to the medics, she heard fast footsteps coming up from behind them.

"Oh my god," Carrie’s voice said. Weakly, Rae turned her head to see her friend and Tim approaching, with wide eyes and mouths hanging open. "We-we heard screaming and gunshots. What-," Carrie started, but stopped suddenly when she saw the white sheet in the middle of the park. Tears formed in her eyes. “Oh, god.” When she found Rae amongst the boys, her lip quivered and she quickly dropped Tim’s hand to make her way over. 

“Rae…”

One of the medics approached their group and informed them that everyone needed to be checked out and give their statements before they were released. Carrie helped as Steve lifted her to her feet again. She had almost forgotten that she needed medical attention. 

A while later, Rae sat on the back bumper of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hands and knees were clean, and wrapped in gauze bandages. Carrie sat next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder, in companionable silence, as they both stared out into the darkness. She dropped her head on to her friend’s shoulder, who in response, wrapped an arm around her back. They didn’t need words. There didn’t seem to be any words available, anyway.

"Let's go," Two-Bit’s voice sighed. Rae opened her eyes. Carrie’s head was resting on top of hers, now. They must have fallen asleep. She sat up straight, causing her friend to rouse, as well. “The cops have given the go-ahead for you to come home with me tonight. We’ll meet with your caseworker again tomorrow.”

Once Carrie was awake, she helped Rae to her feet and supported her as they all slowly made their way back to the Curtis house. An ambulance delivered Ponyboy, absolutely delirious, and deposited him in his own bed. It was well after midnight when the rest of them walked through the door and nearly collapsed in on each other.

When she opened her eyes again, Rae could hear the telephone ringing from down the hall. Her eyes still felt heavy and swollen. There was a dreary light filtering in through the blinds, just enough so that she could see Carrie, fast asleep, in bed with her. She slipped out of Soda’s room as someone picked up the phone. When she passed the living room, she saw Two-Bit stretched out on the couch, Tim laid out across an armchair, and Steve, covered with a thin blanket, completely passed out on the floor.

“Okay,” Darry’s soft voice said. “I’ll have them ready when you get here.” She heard him set the phone back on the hook and saw a soft light in the kitchen blossom as he opened the fridge.

“What time is it?” she asked, quietly, when she approached the open doorway. She squinted in the light, watching him take a swig out of the milk carton. He turned to her. 

“Rae?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s just about five. What are you doing up?”

“Phone woke me up. How’s Ponyboy?”

“He’s...he’ll be okay once the fever passes.” 

“Who was on the phone?”

“Mrs. Mathews. She heard from the Children’s Bureau that you were supposed to be there with her last night. She was callin’ to make sure you were here and that she would pick ya’ll up in the mornin’ to go meet with your social worker.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll be goin’ too. Gotta chat with ours about…” Darry sighed. “Everything.” She nodded, but stayed silent. “You want somethin’ to drink?” He held out the milk. Rae went up him and took the carton from his hands. She took a long drink, letting the cold liquid slide down her throat, and then set it bad into the fridge. 

“Gonna go back to bed,” she said. He nodded, and she slowly made her way back to the bedroom she was sharing with Carrie. She felt his eyes on her the whole way back. 

For a while, Rae laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling as the sun rose, the light in the room growing brighter, her brother’s face flashing in her mind. Eventually, her eyes grew heavy again and she finally found peace in the darkness of a dreamless sleep.

[writingstyle101]

It’s Always Been You - Dallas x Reader : Chapter 5: Do you miss her?

chapter 4

“You’re gonna break his heart pullin a stunt like this y/n” Two-bit sighed leaning against his hand on the couch.

“He has a heart?” You faked confusion making Two-Bit roll his eyes. Soda told all of the boys except Dallas about Tim. 

Dallas walked into the door immediately making eye contact with you. “Hey two-bit,” he said while walking in the room. 

“I wanna punch him in the face.” You breathed looking at two-bit. 

“I heard that.” He called from the kitchen.

 “I hate you.” You called loudly so he could hear. 

He walked in opening a Coke, “Why? I’m lovely.” He shrugged his shoulders walking back out the front door. 

“Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” you looked back to Two-Bit.

“I’m sure.”

“What if I just break his nose a little?” you questioned making him laugh. 

You sighed standing from the couch and grabbing your jacket, heading out the door. Dallas was standing there leaning on the fence, smoking a cigarette. “I heard you were runnin it with Timmy now.” He tilted his head. 

“You heard right. Going to see him now.” You shrugged. 

“You don’t need to be messin with him y/n. I told you a year ago and I’m tellin you again.”

“You have no control over me anymore Dallas.” You raised an eyebrow. 

He smirked at you, “You sure about that?” he took another drag of his cigarette.  

“Whatever you say Dallas” you rolled your eyes turning to walk away.

 “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he mocked you as he moved off the fence to follow you, chucking his Coke in the grass. 

“I stopped being scared of snakes a long time ago Dallas Winston.” You kept walking. 

“You always had a weak spot for me y/n.” 

Then he smiled that ridiculously perfect and insanely annoying smile. And you didn’t know if you wanted to hit him or kiss him more. So, you opted for the former, because the fact that kissing the idiot came to mind made you feel even angrier at him.

“Are you fucking kidding me y/n?!” He yelled holding his now bloody nose. 

“No, I’m not kidding. You don’t get to do this, you don’t get to judge me. You made your choice and I made mine, just because you can’t live with yours doesn’t mean you should make me feel bad for living with mine.” You yelled turning and walking away. 

You went on your miserable date with Tim. You knew you were dating him for all the wrong reasons but you didn’t care. You were walking back to the Curtis’s and stopped at the porch when you heard the boys talking. Since only the screen door was closed you could hear very clearly. 

“Do you miss her?” Ponyboy asked. With his three words, your heart broke. 

“All the time.” Dally said.

 “Then go get her. What are you doin? She loves ya man.” You heard Soda. 

You leaned against the wall of the house just listening, not even breathing. 

“She don’t love me. She’s ain’t that stupid.”

You let out the breath you’ve been holding, putting your hand over your mouth. You straightened yourself out and breathed walking into the house to end their conversation. 

“So what’s your guys’ plan for tonight?” you stared at all of them sitting on the couches and the floor. 

“Well we leave at night and you stay here with the first aid kit.” Darry shrugged his shoulders. 

“I’m not waiting here.” You furrowed your brows 

“Yeah, you are.” Everyone said at the same time. 

“That is so not fair you’re even letting Pony go.” You defended. 

“No y/n. Us getting our asses kicked is one thing. You getting yours is another.” Soda shook his head. 

“I mean clearly she can throw a punch.” Steve laughed. 

“Whatever.” You sighed walking away. 

“I’m way too sober for this shit.” Dally mumbled getting up and walking out the house. 

All of the boys were hyping each other up before running out for the rumble. 

You were worried sick to your stomach. After about thirty minutes you decided to go and watch the rumble from the sidelines. The boys couldn’t be mad about that and that was the only way you were gonna feel better about this. You made your way there and you could hear the yelling.

As you walked up to the field you could see each one of the gang fighting. You held your breath and every time you watched one of the boys get punched you felt like it was you taking the blow instead. 

You couldn’t help but watch Dallas. He didn’t get hit much but when he did it hurt you bad. You didn’t know if you could watch anymore when all of a sudden you saw the Soc that Dally was fighting pull something out of his back pocket.

 You felt all of the air leave your lungs as you screamed when you saw Dally fall to the ground. Everyone turned to you when they heard you scream. Everyone was looking at you, but you didn’t care. You ran to him anyways. 

The Socs all ran when they realized what happened. You fell when you got to Dally, grabbing his head and holding it on your thighs. He was bleeding heavily and you kept trying to stop the bleeding but there was too much and you couldn’t calm down. 

You were crying so hard that you actually couldn’t catch a breath looking down at your only love bleeding like that. Dally didn’t even seem concerned with the bleeding because he kept reaching up to grab your face and arms ”Please baby don’t cry.”. It didn’t stop the panic running through you though. 

The boys called an ambulance and you refused to move Dally, scared he would bleed too much. You kept talking to Dally making sure he was talking back. Trying to keep him awake and attempting not to break down. 

“I’m sorry you’re not comfy I know my thighs aren’t too comfy.” You giggled sadly. 

“It’s perfect baby. I get to see you, I’m with you.” He sighed, smiling softly. 

“I know it hurts Dally” you cried some more.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” He breathed even though his face was white and twisted with pain.

 “Just squeeze my hand okay.” You sniffled. Dally chuckled grabbing your hand but every once in a while, squeezed it really tight. You never said anything, you just let him. 

You and all of the boys were sitting in the hospital while Dally was in surgery. They cleaned all of the other boys up who only had a few cuts and bruises.

 “I can’t believe you’re finally taking him back.” Darry looked to you.

 “I’m with him. For better or for worse.” You smiled shrugging at him

“You know it’ll probably get worse.” He raised his brows at you. 

“Yeah. But I already knew that the day I met him.” You gave him a sad smile.

“These hospital bills really aren’t gonna be funny.” Darry sighed, rubbing his jaw. 

“Check your black winter jacket pocket when you get home.” You smirked. 

[wallas-dinston]

Two

Hi! So, this is an excerpt from a wicked long (like 200 page) fanfic I wrote a couple months ago. I basically took the original plot line of the book (and some quotes) and mixed it with my own original ideas, by adding a sister to the Curtis family named Sunshine. This story is written from Sunshine Curtis’ point of view, who was part of the gang and had slight romantic feelings toward Johnny Cade. I hope you enjoy! This portion is Dallas Winston’s death. This is not perfect by any means, so sorry for any mistakes.

“Johnny. He’s dead.” Pony started, his voice sounding strange.

“Shh. We know.” I comforted him, but he continued.

“We told him about beatin’ the Socs and….I don’t know, he just died.” He stammered. He suddenly jolted.

“Dallas is gone.” He said. “He ran out like the devil was after him. He’s gonna blow up. He couldn’t take it.” Dallas Winston couldn’t take it. So how could I take it? How am I supposed to live with this? Johnny was the only thing Dallas loved, and he was gone.

“So he finally broke.” Two-Bit spoke, reading everyone’s mind. “So even Dally has a breaking point.” I began to shake. I couldn’t stop thinking. No. Johnny couldn't leave me here. It was my fault. He saved me instead of himself. I should have stopped him. I should have never brought him to the park that day. Darry said something to Soda in a low voice, but my train of thought never faltered. Why did this have to happen to me? Why did the light of my life have to go? I should have had more time with him. What were my last words?! What did I say to him? Did I make it count? I don’t remember. How can I not remember? I should have known. My breathing got faster and faster until I felt nauseous.

“Sunny,” Soda said softly, as if he were talking to a child, or a crippled bird. “You look sick. Sit down.”

I backed up, frightened, shaking my head.

“I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s okay. We’re fine.” I replied calmly as I could. But I felt sick. Like any moment I was going to pass out cold on the floor. I was hot and pale.

Darry stepped towards me, but I backed up once again.

“Don't touch me.” I said. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. It was pumping hard and slow. It throbbed with the weight of loss. Everyone was looking at me.

The phone began to ring, and without hesitation I stepped away to answer it. Anything I could do to get myself out of that situation.

“Darry?” a familiar voice asked.

“Sunny.” I replied. It suddenly hit me who was speaking. It was Dally.

“Dallas?” I questioned. He grunted in response. I could almost picture him, standing at a phonebooth, licking his lips nervously. I could hear it in his voice.

“Can I talk to Darry, Sun?” He asked. He sounded hectic and wild. It was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “Trouble has found me, kid.”

“Dally. What did you do? You know it’s dangerous for you to-” Dally cut me off.

“I’ve got nothing left to lose, Sunshine. That makes me the dangerous one.” His voice was hoarse.

“Dally, Dally. Don’t say that-” I began to speak frantically, but Darry had come up behind me. He slowly took the phone from my hands and held it to his own ear. Everyone stood, waiting to see what would happen. After a minute of intent listening, Darry hung up the phone quickly and turned to look at us.

“It was Dally. He phoned from a booth. He’s just robbed a grocery store and the cops are after him. We gotta hide him. He’ll be at the lot in a minute.” I gasped, a squeak escaping my throat. I snapped out of my position, pushing past Curly and Tim, and flew out the door.

We all left the house at a dead run, and everyone had a solemn and angry expression. Nobody was laughing and whooping like they were before. I was still not feeling right, I could barely run straight. My head was pulsing. But I was numb. Zero. Any pain I had felt earlier had subsided, leaving me with a seemingly normal functioning body.

I heard the sirens, and we reached the lot in time to see Dally running in hard, the police chasing him. He looked behind him to see how far away they were, and skidded to a halt, in the glow of a streetlight. I heard the screeching of tires, shouting, shoe soles on the pavement, and even before he pulled the gun from his pocket, I knew what he was doing. Everyone reached the edge of the lot to watch Dallas in awe, but I kept on racing forward, towards him. Only two things raced through my mind: ‘I need to save him’, and, ‘Not Dally too. Not him and Johnny both.’ Curly grabbed me and held me in my place, but I kicked and struggled against him, trying to free myself from his grasp. Fear washed over me. I had to stop him. Dally’s voice ran through my mind like a coursing river. ‘Anyways, it ain’t loaded. I ain’t aiming to get picked up for murder. But it sure does help a bluff.’ I wish I was faster. I wish I could have gotten it out quicker. With hysterical eyes I looked around the lot screaming, “It's a bluff! It's empty!”, but nobody moved an inch. It was as if they couldn’t hear me. We had run out of time. And then there was nothing else I could do except watch in horror. In one last effort I screamed after him, “Dallas no!”, but he jerked the gun from his waistband, and pointed it towards the officers. That selfish bastard looked at me with grim triumph spread across his face as the bullets echoed in the night, rocking his body to the ground. An image that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I knew he would be dead, because Dallas Winston wanted to be dead, and he always got what he wanted one way or another. Curly released me and I ran over to Dally, sinking to my knees beside him. Me and Dallas never had the strongest bond, but there he lay, another friend whisked away in the wind. Taken away from us. Taken away from me. I took a final look at his face, something I would never see again. Sweat streaked, bloodied and bruised. Rough. He always fought against everyone, fought against the world, and he had finally lost. I wondered if he felt ashamed, after losing a fight that long, or if he knew it was coming since the day he was born. Did he knew that he would lose eventually? I wondered if he would have felt ashamed, knowing the Shepard’s saw his demise, knowing we all did. No, I thought suddenly. No. he knew. He knew before he even got to the lot that he was going to die. He knew when he called us. He wanted us to see it. I hoped he would be proud, seeing his name headline tomorrow morning in the newspaper, like I knew it would. I wondered if he would have felt sorry for putting us through the hell I knew we were about to face. No. He wouldn't be. He would have snickered at us and blew out his cigarette smoke. Sorry wasn't in his vocabulary. I looked up and saw Steve on the ground with his head in his hands, Soda standing over him. He was groaning. Darry was slumped over, and Two-Bit looked sick. I turned to the cops. They did this to us.

“You idiots! It wasn't loaded!” I cried angry and frustrated and sad tears, as I started towards the officers, my hand balled into a fist, ready to do what I felt I needed to. My knuckles were clenched white, and my breath was dry and harsh. I knew I was in the wrong, and that they had no way of knowing there were no bullets in the gun, but I didn't care. He was just a kid. A hardened, mean, tough kid, but a kid nonetheless, and I desperately needed someone to blame besides myself. I got up into one of the officers faces, my body shaking as I cried, the hot tears streaming my face. I have no idea what I planned on saying, but Soda rushed towards me and pulled me away before any words could escape my lips that I would regret. I shook his hands off my shoulders. It seemed like the people you are supposed to turn to when everything goes bad are the ones that harm things the most. The cops have never done any good for us Greasers. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurred. I stumbled around for a moment, holding my hands to my head. I just kept mumbling over and over.

“I told him not to carry the gun. I told him. I told him it was dangerous.”

I heard some faint whispers from the Shepards. “Glory, look at the girl!” “She isn't looking too hot.” Did they think I couldn't hear them?

I suddenly felt the urge to get away from the sight, so I did. I ran as hard as I could away from his body, away from the police, away from my brothers. They all yelled and a few of them ran after me, but I was faster, and not in the mindset to listen. Two of my friends had died that night: one a hero, the other a hoodlum. He was a dead juvenile delinquent and there would be no praise for him, no sadness, no sorrow, the exception being us, his learned family. Dally didn't die a hero. He died violent and young and desperate, just like we all knew he’d die someday. Just like Curly Shepard and the hoods we knew would die someday. But Johnny was right, he died gallant. And it all made me realize that time was limited. Someday the world would be without Two-Bit’s quick wit and humor, there will be no hectic boy to make everyone smile. Someday the world would forget all that Darry had sacrificed with so little in return. The world would be empty without Sodapop’s gentle laughs and fiery nature ringing all about. Nobody will remember Pony’s dreamy nature and pure heart. There will be no funny, car smart boy named Steve to help you out at the DX. This town no longer has a rebellious Dallas to run around and cause trouble, and there will be no memory of Johnny, still so kind through it all. Nobody will even remember all the struggle and pain and violence the boy’s I call family went through, and soon they won't even be remembered. I thought about my friends, my brothers.

Steve Randle, only seventeen, tall and lean with thick greasy hair. A good buddy to Sodapop, and the best auto mechanic in Tulsa. A forgotten son. He was cocky and smart. I couldn't imagine him growing old with a family. I couldn't see him changing his ways. Never.

Darrel Curtis, only twenty, tall and muscular. An older brother, a hard worker. He uses his head, but is worn out at such a young age. He wouldn't stay this way forever. We were the only things keeping him from moving up in life, and that he would someday. I could picture him living happily with a family of his own on the nicer side of town with a picket white fence and a decent car. He deserved at least that.

Ponyboy Curtis, only fourteen, small with a good build. A younger brother, a dreamer, quiet. He has seen too much for such a young age. I wasn't sure what would come of him, but whatever it was, he would do great things. He was smart. He would go places. He was too young to feel this hurt. We all were.

Keith Matthews, only eighteen, stocky and tall. He was a thief. He was always wearing a grin, could never stop wisecracking. He always made you feel better. He always tried to lighten the situation, to tell you that everything was okay, but whether he was trying to convince himself or you was unknown. I don't think he would ever settle down. He would get himself in trouble one day, trouble that he couldn't get himself out of.

Sodapop Curtis, only seventeen, slim and average. A brother, a unique personality. Wise, happy go lucky, one of a kind. Sympathetic, a peacemaker, understanding and passionate. The middle child, a hard worker. I don't know if he would ever find someone who cherished his personality as much as his looks.

Johnathan Cade, only sixteen, small and nervous. He was a burden to his parents, but a light in my life. During his time he grew from helpless and scared, and he became more confident in himself. He was sensitive, sensible, and caring. He valued life. I would miss him more than words could describe.

Dallas Winston, only seventeen, tall and tough. Street smart, and bitter towards life. His persona was the work of a lifetime. He didn't know how to handle himself. He did not display his emotions well, but he took a liking to Johnny, he did. Dally was gallant. He was wild, a loner, and glass. He was made of glass but he was reckless, not caring if he broke. Dallas was a free soul and Johnny’s death trapped him, tethered him to the town, and he needed to break free.

I thought this over as I ran, not sure where I was going to go, I just had to go away. I felt panicked and tragic, like I needed something to happen, something to make me feel alive. It was then that I understood Dally, and where he was coming from. But I couldn't make the same mistakes as him, couldn't leave my brothers behind. I was conflicted. I urged for something more. I felt careless, and I needed to push my feelings away, or I was going to explode. I felt like a raging ocean trapped inside a puddle. I needed to get away from myself.

[queenzufufu]

Soldier Boy (1/?)

Summary: Alfredo only had three main goals in life: earn money, keep his family safe, and to try and one up his parents and make it past the age of thirty.

The Fakes? He couldn't be any further from that world. No doubt he'd love to be part of it but he knows it's never going to happen. There's just no way.

Until one night, and one heist gone wrong, finds him in the middle of a gang war that he finds he has no choice but to get involved in.

Alfredo has never been much of a believer in fate. You got what you were given, that’s what he’s been raised to believe and so far in his short life, nothing has happened to go against or disprove that state of mind.

As far as Alfredo is concerned, there are three things in life that really matter. Family, loyalty, and money. His grandma would tell him nothing was more important than family. That everything he did in life had to be of some benefit for the family. She had taught him from a young age that one day he may be expected to take a fall for someone else, and that he should take that fall with honor and pride. That he should be selfless and be giving at all times, first and foremost - his life would be nothing without those of his family as well.

She said everything he had in life. The clothes on his back, the food in his belly, his bed and the roof he slept under, was all because of the family, and it was up to him to work hard every day of his life to pay them back and provide for the next generation. To do what his dead parents were now unable to.

His Uncle would tell him nothing was more important than loyalty. It kind of tied into the family side of things but loyalty could stretch boundaries. His Uncle would tell him stories of his father - his older brother - the most loyal and fearless man he ever knew. He said where they were now was largely down to him. The respect they still had from other crews was because they remembered his father. A straight up guy. Smart and loyal.

When he was only about five Alfredo once said it didn’t seem very smart to have been shot by a police. The swift backhand he earned was enough to make him shut up permanently on that front.

And his older brother, Denver, would tell him that money was what made the world go round. With money you could be anyone you wanted to be and no one could touch you or anyone you cared about. He’d tell Alfredo when they were really young - going out on the streets to see what cars were ripe for the taking - that money meant power, and the best way to survive in a place that could be as cruel as their city was to make as much of it as possible.

It depended on the day of the week, which one Alfredo felt more attached to at the time.

Either way, he has a place. And for this, he is grateful for. Every day he saw so much pain, so much suffering in the eyes of those who did not have what he has. Who had no family looking out for them, no one loyal enough to always stand by them. And those people definitely had no money.

Is he happy as a person? That is an entirely different question. Alfredo supposes it doesn’t matter. What he wanted… he wasn’t entitled to have a say - at least not yet. He’s a soldier, that’s the most important and defining quality about him. He would live and die for his family.

That morning is like any other. Alfredo awakes from his bed in his family’s basement by his grandma stomping her foot loudly on the kitchen floor above him. Groaning, he slips one leg out of bed, and then the other. It’s always cold in their basement, despite the generally hot climate outside, and getting up is never a pleasant affair.

He can’t afford to dally though, his grandma will have his head if he’s not out of the door by half eight. Time is money after all and money was still important even if it wasn’t always her number one priority. And seeing as Alfredo and his older brother were the men of the house, it was up to them to go out to work every day and bring home the earnings. His grandma had a job too, of course, she wasn’t one to just sit around. She worked as a hairdresser around twenty minutes away. A nice place, fancy, attracted high-end clients. Perfect for his grandma, Especially with their house being so close to the pawn shop. What could he say? It ran in the family, he supposed.

Clambering up the steep staircase on his hands and feet - like he had done ever since he was older enough to walk - Alfredo bounds into the kitchen, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms, walking over to where is grandma is washing up last nights dishes and kisses her on the cheek.

“You’re up late. Your brother was out ten minutes ago,” are the first words she said to him in her heavy Filipino accent, and though Alfredo knew there was no real anger or annoyance behind them, he can never help the little kick in the heart it would give him.

Denver. His older brother. And by far the more capable and adept at living this life of theirs. Alfredo is good, people always tell him that. But Alfredo had always been too soft, more keen on making friends out of their rivals than dealing with them. He hadn’t shot his first man until he was fourteen, a whole two years older than his brother had been. He’d cried as well, a lot, even though the man he’d had to shoot had been a rat for another crew. He’s shot at many rivals since then, hit a lot and killed a few, but it was never easy. No, taking a life, any life, had never sat easy with him.

As he sat at their small breakfast table, he glances up to watch the TV. It was the morning news and shaky camera footage was showing a bank robbery heist that had taken place a week or so earlier - Montgomery Legion, a place where only the wealthiest stored their riches - robbed a small sum of £1.2 million dollars. There was no special prize for guessing who was responsible but there was no need for guessing in the first place, as the perpetrators mocked the cops from the roof of the bank, clad in tactical armour and face masks, before they leapt into a chopper and vanished into the skies above, the authorities unable to keep up or track them down. Yep, that sort of behaviour was typical of The Fakes.

Pausing in her washing, his grandma turns and points a spoon at the TV, nodding in approval. “You see there, Alfredo? That’s what real men look like,” she lectures. Oh Alfredo knew that alright. He’s basically been raised to worship The Fakes - placed in front of the TV when he was a little boy, witnessing the havoc they caused for the rich and corrupt. Told that was what he was to aspire to be.

Alfredo doesn’t know, he’s probably more suited with what he knows. The Fakes… they just seemed too out there, too unreal, Robin Hood-esque characters come to life. Incredible and amazing to observe but not something he could, in reality, strive to be, no matter how much he'd like to.

Not much is known about them. Every so often a name or two is whispered in the winds throughout the city. Golden Boy, Mogar, The Vagabond; they come and go with the changing of the seasons. The most recent one Alfredo recalls, and quite frankly the most absurd, was Rimmy Tim. I mean come on! Rimmy Tim? What kind of dumbass name was that?

Honestly, as much fun as being part of a crew like that sounded, Alfredo knows he'll never get out of his neighborhood, and the few corners that were his. But when his main job is to stand around all day and watch as addicts and dealers exchanged cash in hand, occasionally running from the cops or fighting with rival crews, he often finds his mind wondering to more exciting, but imagined, lands.

So he’s left daydreaming, while The Fakes continue with their grand heists, in their flashy cars with their insane arsenal of weapons and technology. Different lives, he supposes, never meant to mix.

He smiles to himself in recollection of all the news stories that have been the talk of his house over the years.

But what a fucking life, he thinks in awe. What a fucking life.

He meets up with his right had man a few blocks away from a new corner, one they’d take the other day when of of his runners had noticed there was no one on it. As far as Alfredo see’s, it was for the taking. His Lieutenant, Angel Guanzon - sixteen years old and already fully enrolled into a life of crime. He likes the kid, but he sometimes clashes with Alfredo’s preferred method of conducting business. He’s brash and loud while Alfredo’s observant and more cautious, and he’s eager to fuck a dude up for a late payment while Alfredo is always more keen to give them longer and occasionally, for the really young ones, look the other way.

Alfredo doesn’t know if these differences makes Angel respect him any less but he couldn’t complain. The kid was loyal and for the most part listened to Alfredo and did as he was told.

That day was no different than the rest. By early afternoon, Alfredo feels pretty pleased with himself. Business was going well - not booming - especially since they recently lost another couple of their nearby corners in a shootout, but good enough to keep his grandma happy.

No police either so he thanks his lucky stars for that. He’s experienced enough to be able to handle a couple of street cops but damn if they weren’t annoying and put a dampener on his day.

“Just get her some flowers or something, classy like,” Alfredo offers to Angel, who’s telling him about this new girl he’s interested in.

Angel shakes his head, flipping his baseball cap around in his hands. “Nah, nah, dude. This girl ain’t like that. She’s into the hard shit, you see. She wantin’ her man to be a gangsta, not some pussy ass motherfucka with flowers.”

Alfredo shrugs, giving up. He doesn’t fucking know what to say. The most serious relationship he’s ever been in was back in high school and that was only for three months. The girl he’d dated was now married with four kids so… like he was always thinking, different lives.

Commotion down the street. Alfredo is instantly on guard.

“Yo, they’re coming! They’re coming!” Alfredo turns at the sound of one of his look outs voices and sees three members of Pascal’s crew stalking towards him. Pascal’s crew is fairly new on the scene. Ugly looking motherfuckers, the lot of them. But they’re eager and stupidly confident, and that can be a dangerous cocktail.

“Motherfuckers think they looking at?” Angel mutters.

Alfredo holds his ground as they get closer, standing tall as the leader comes right up to him, face merely a few inches from his own. He tries not to laugh at the bandana adorned around the man’s forehead - black with skull and cross bones - really, did this guy know anything?

“Pinoy boy, you done lost your fucking mind. You’re standing on my real estate.”

Ah so it was Pascal’s crew who were slacking. If there was one thing Alfredo can appreciate about his own crew, it was their professionalism. They clocked in their hours every day, no complaint - salt of the earth kind of guys.

“Mine now,” he says calmly. “Took it while you was resting.”

Beside him, Angel hoists up his shirt, revealing his 9mm. “Y’all too late,” he taunts. Alfredo holds up a hand, signalling for him to take it easy. This is a delicate situation, no matter how inexperienced these rivals might be. Alfredo doesn’t feel like having to deal with any needless bloodshed this day.

“Look,” bandana dude gets right up in his face, using his extra couple of inches to sneer down, pulling a dumb expression Alfredo supposes is meant to intimidate him. “I’m’a let you walk off right now. Or we could do it the other way.”

Alfredo peers speculatively past him - at the three other guys with their baseball bats. He shakes his head, laughing a little. “Who you got to do it the other way? Them?” He turns around to look at his own crew - more than double the number, most of them armed with something more deadly than a bat.

He turns back, glaring up into the dark eyes, daring him to take his chances. He can’t show weakness, not one slither. This was a test more than anything, a scouting group sent to see if he would easily roll over. Pascal’s crew had something else coming if they thought for a second Alfredo would dishonour his family. No solider would do that.

Bandana dude regards him and his crew, not saying a word. Alfredo sees his jaw working. Eventually he leans even closer, bumping foreheads with Alfredo. “You gonna see me in your sleep,” he threatens, shoving his shoulder hard as he turned and walked away.

“Yeah, I know. I know,” Alfredo calls after him, waving them off dismissively.

The dude turns back. “Yeah,” he shouts.

Alfredo just laughs, turning his back to him. He gives the nod to Angel, who immediately starts jumping up and down, shoving his gun away again. “That’s right, keep walking, bitch!”

Once he’s calmed down and Pascal’s crew have vanished from sight, he looks to Alfredo, who by now is sat outside the closest house, rolling and unrolling a twenty his in fingers. “They’re gonna come back,” Angel says, sitting down next to him.

“Yeah, way we just punk’d them?” Alfredo looks over, sticking the twenty in the corner of his mouth like it’s a smoke. He nods slowly, observing his once again calm corner. “They got to.”

He’s walking back from the club late at night when he’s cornered. He’s had his money counted for the day, earned his twelve percent cut, will be giving the youngin’s their four percent of that at the end of the week. It’s time to head home and hopefully get some time for himself before going to bed so he can wake up and do it all over the next day.

It’s just as he turns into an alleyway that he often uses as a short cut, that a strong pair of hands grab him by the shoulders and shove him roughly into the nearest wall. Two guys, one tall and bulky, the other shorter and muscular, both with short blond buzzcuts, are facing him down.

The taller guy as a hand around his throat while his accomplice presses the edge of his knife against Alfredo’s stomach. His breath hitches in his chest, muscles contracting and eyes widening. At this moment he wishes more than ever for his natural instincts to kick in, for his upbringing to come in use and help him kick these guys asses, or at least get him the hell out out here. But alas, nothing comes, he is simply a coward - which is almost as bad as a rat in his family - almost hyperventilating, quivering like a leaf.

The shorter guy, who still has his blade pressing against Alfredo, gives him the once over, smiling and shaking his head, as if he expected nothing more than a scared kid and was proven right.

“Denver’s baby brother, right?” are the words the guy eventually speaks, when he’s satisfied he has Alfredo shaken enough.

At the mention of his brother’s name, Alfredo stiffens up. “I dunno… who - who you’re talking about.”

The man leans in closer, tilting his head to the side, lowering his eyebrows and pulling a face like he’s a disappointed parent. “Now, don’t give me that. Do I look stupid to you?” He lifts the knife from Alfredo’s stomach, only to bring it up to his face, sliding the flat edge of the blade along Alfredo’s top lip.

Alfredo swallows, unable to look away from the razor sharp edge only inches away from his throat. “Nah, man,” he chokes out.

“Your brother,” he says again, running his finger along the metal, smiling as he does so. “He took a package of ours to sell, you see. This was, what was it, Georgy?” he turns to the huge man.

“Three weeks ago,” this so-called “Georgy” replies in an even thicker accent.

“Three weeks ago. You see? You see my dilemma here, Fredo?”

Alfredo glares. Only his family call him ‘Fredo’. He doesn’t say so though, he’s not an idiot. “He - he owes you money,” he answers instead. Motherfucker was gonna be in so much shit when Alfredo next saw him. And to think he was the one his grandma was always telling him he should look up to. At least Alfredo hadn’t fucked up like this yet.

The shorter man smiles his sickly grin once more, teeth glinting dangerously like a sharks. “Ah see, Georgy? I told you this was a smart boy.” He pats Alfredo patronizingly on the head. “So smart boy, I need to you to do something for me, yes? You go to that thieving brother of yours and you tell him that Dmitri is very upset with him but not unforgiving. I am very forgiving, am I not, Georgy?”

“You’ve got until Friday to get me that money,” he says before spinning and walking away, leaving Georgy and Alfredo alone. Alfredo stares up at the giant, throat working, eyes wide, just hoping and praying he would leave. He did, after a few lingering moments of pure intimidation, spitting in Alfredo’s face and then shoving him roughly to the ground.

Alfredo stays where he is, palms stinging from the scrape against the rough ground, muscles agonizingly tight with tension. Only once both men were safely around the far corner does he struggle haphazardly to his feet, checking first to make sure he truly was uninjured before letting out a pure noise of anger.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cries out, pacing between the tiny gap of the alley walls. He aims a well placed kick at a trash can, sending the contents spilling out into the sidewalk. I’m gonna kill Denver, if those Ruski bastards don’t first, I’m gonna fucking kill him.

A throat clears, sounding louder on the quiet street, and Alfredo glances up to see an elderly lady standing on her porch, looking very unimpressed with the mess the boy had just made outside her home. Her disapproving gaze doesn’t look too dissimilar to that of Alfredo’s grandma, and he instinctively puts on his best behaviour.

“Sorry ma'am,” he raises his hand apologetically, going to pick up the can and trash, making a big show of putting everything back where it should have been, and even adding a few extra beer cans he was pretty sure weren’t even in there in the first place.

She appraises his work, not saying a word. When he’s done she gives him a hard stare, but then nods her head, turning around and heading back into her home.

Alfredo waits until she’s shut the door, and then leans back against the wall, putting a hand against his warmed and reddened cheeks. Embarrassing though it may have been, the moment does do something to bring Alfredo back to reality, to allow him a moment to pause and think and collect his scattered thoughts.

Okay, he decided, this isn’t too bad. As far as disagreements went between the crews this was pretty small. Alfredo was just ashamed that he’d acted so meekly back there, not even attempting to fight back or stand up for himself.

After a few more minutes to calm himself, he slowly stands up straight, brushes himself down, and begins the walk home again, all the while plotting in his head exactly how he was going to kick his brothers ass.

He’s two blocks away from home when he sees it. Or rather, smells it, first. Smoke, rising from nearby, crackling. Fire. Without even thinking, he hurries towards it, like a moth of the night drawn to flame.

He knows the building. It’s a small hotel, usually catering for travelling workers. He skids to a halt just outside, where there are already a crowd of people watching in awe and fear. Snippets of their conversations drift by. Firefighters on their way… police too. How’d it start… Some staff still inside… Fire started on purpose… Someone saw people in masks… It was the Fakes… No the Fakes wouldn’t do this… No it was… Fakes… Fakes, Fakes, Fakes.

Alfredo blinks, and everybody around him takes a step back as there’s an explosion from somewhere inside and the extra heat blasts out onto the street.

He almost steps back too, but something stops him.

Shouts.

There are still people inside, possibly trapped.

He runs inside, not pausing to think.

It’s dark inside, surprisingly, the lights must have been cut out by the fire. The only light, of course, comes from the orange and red flames on the curtains and some of the furniture. In the main lobby, however, it mainly seems filled with smoke - the outbreak of the fire must be deeper inside.

Two young women run towards him, emerging from the deadly clouds, dressed in the hotel uniform.

“Is anyone else inside?” he calls to them.

One just runs straight past him, either uncaring or simply too blinded by fear to give him a second glance. The other, however, pauses and looks back. “Only Drew, I think. We tried to get him to come with us but… but, he won’t!” Her face falls. “Oh, God we shouldn’t have left him. We shouldn’t have left him!” She goes to run back but Alfredo grabs her by the arm.

“It’s okay, I’ll get him. Where is he?”

“Staff room, through those doors at the end on the left,” she quickly replies, taking his hand gratefully. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright. You get yourself out of here,” Alfredo instructs before heading quickly but cautiously further in.

“Hello?” he calls out as he nears the destination. There’s a rustle in the darkness. Alfredo steps towards it, and makes out a form huddled on the floor behind a chair. He rushes forward, dropping to crouch next to the man, tearing a strip off his shirt as he does.

“Hey there, are you Drew?”

The man nods, eyes glazed. Red hair plasters to his forehead. He’s young, Alfredo can see, even younger then Alfredo. “Who –” he begins but ends up choking.

“C’mon,” Alfredo tries pulling him. “We’ve gotta get outta here.”

“Can’t,” the man whispers, like a dead-weight under Alfredo’s arm. He can see now how the girls would have struggled with him, but right now Alfredo hasn’t the patience for any breakdowns or panic attacks.

With his greatest strength, he forces the man to his feet, allowing him to lean against his side. “C’mon, this way! Hold this over your mouth,” he instructs, placing his own hand with his torn up shirt across the man’s face.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, they make their way to the main doors. By the time they do get there, Alfredo’s own throat feels raw and his bare arms feel like they are beginning to cook. The emergency services are there now at least, he can get out of here, pleased with his good deed of the day.

As he gives Drew one last shove towards the doors and fresh air, he takes one last glance behind him. Nothing. No screams. Good.

But wait…

Somehow, even though it’s even smokier than earlier, he catches the glimpse of a figure disappearing around a corner, down the hall Alfredo had not explored.

“Hey buddy!” He yells. “That’s the wrong way!” he calls out frantically, but it’s no good, the figure has vanished.

Alfredo pauses, torn between taking the sensible option and making a run for the exit - where the firefighters are almost ready to make an exit and are calling for him to come out - or following this stranger for no other reason than he was still nursing his bruised pride from earlier and felt like earning some more praise by being the hero for once. Because he wasn’t naive to believe he would go after someone out of the goodness in his heart. Really, he was a fucking criminal at the end of the day. A low-life. No use pretending anything else.

But, for reasons unknown to him, his feet start moving in the direction the figure had gone, slowly at first, but then quickening rapidly until he’s sprinting full blast through the smoke covered room. When he turns the corner he’s met with yet another narrow hallway, tight and full of grey clouds of smoke. He coughs, which is a mistake, and finds himself unable to stop. Harsh, guttural sounds that shake his lungs and leave him stumbling forward.

Forward, still forward. Why was he still going forward? This is madness. Yet he keeps going, going the only possible way the stranger could have gone, down the hallway. He tries the handles but snatches them away with a hiss instantly. They’re blazing hot. No way they went in there.

Finally, painfully, he reaches the end of the hallway. His eyes are watering rivers and every breath feels like he’s on fire, but blessedly, the air seems to clear here, seems fresher somehow. He looks around, blinking back ash filled tears

A door, ordinary looking but open. Was his mysterious stranger holed up inside? They must be, there’s nowhere else they could have gone.

He launches himself in, already preparing to haul another confused stranger to safety, but instead he’s met with an empty room, or what he thinks is an empty room at first. His eyes quickly dart down at movement on the floor, and widen massively when he realises there is a head.

A head poking up through the floor, brown haired and curly, facing away from him and fiddling about with a large duffel bag, cursing as the zip keeps catching.

“You– ” Alfredo starts, utterly bewildered.

He’s cut off instantly by a gun to his face.

Honestly, his fucking luck this evening.

“Shit! Where’d he come from?” the man on the floor yelps, turning and staring up with dark eyes at Alfredo and the other.

“Must’ve followed you,” the voice answers, muffled slightly. Alfredo realizes the reason when he throws Alfredo to the ground and pushes him to face him. His face was covered in a mask. A monkey mask to be precise, that Alfredo would have laughed at, had it not been for the gun still pointed at his fucking head. “Who are you? You work here?” the monkey demands.

Alfredo shakes his head.

“What you doing in here then?” The muffled voice becomes harsher, the gun getting threateningly closer.

Alfredo swallows, wincing as it scratches his throat. “I- I wanted to help,” he manages to hoarsely say.

A pause. And then the man holding the gun is laughing, lowering his weapon. “So,” he starts, “we’ve got a little wannabe hero here.”

Well… he wasn’t entirely wrong.

The monkey man lowered his weapon and grabs his own duffel bag, giving Alfredo’s leg a kick. “What are you waiting for then? Get your ass down there before we’re all barbecue. I don't want the body of a dumb kid on my conscience.”

Alfredo scrambles down the hole, jumping as he’s met with another mask, some sort of carnival one, belonging to the man with curly hair. If the guy was hoping Alfredo hadn’t seen his face or was going to forget it any time soon, he was hopelessly wrong. Sooner or later, Alfredo was going to find there was no way in hell he would ever be forgetting that face.

Another kick and he’s automatically walking forward, through a tunnel that was quite obviously manmade, and that lead underneath the old hotel. Behind him the curly haired man begins whispering. “What happened in there? Did you see? Who would’a done this? Do you think –” However, he is hardly shushed by the monkey man and the rest of the way is quiet.

What feels like an age but is probably five minutes at the most, Alfredo finally sees the most beautiful sight. Greenery. And the smell… the wonderful smell of fresh air. He speeds forward, unable to help himself, and is justly rewarded by a foot sticking into his path and tripping him up.

He lays there, breathing heavily, before rolling over only to be met with yet another masked figure. This one honestly quite terrifying. The mask is almost all black, and what he finds more interesting, is the smidge of paint that pokes out from behind it. Piercing blue eyes watch him curiously. In the near distance he can hear all the commotion and sirens from the hotel, but right now they appear to be in a small park, possibly the one Alfredo smoked his first cigarette in when he was seven.

“Watch yourself,” the monkey man says with a chuckle as he exits too. “That’s a hero you just tripped up there.”

The mysterious figure doesn’t say anything but Alfredo can almost imagine him frowning deeply behind his mask. Eventually he gives a shrug and walks off. Alfredo tilts his head to try and watch him and see where he goes but a clammy hand on his face forces him to look back.

“What are we gonna do about this kid?” the curly haired man asks to who he assumes is the leader, moving his hand to place it on Alfredo’s shoulder, ready to restrain him if needed be.

Alfredo gulps as - now it’s clearer and lighter and he can see - cool blue eyes look down and judge him, taking time to scan every feature and emotion that crosses his face. He finds he can’t look away, can’t break eye contact, just holds his breath even though his stressed lungs are pleading for air. All the while his mind races at light-speed, a multitude of thoughts passing though and crashing into one another. Holy shit, is the main one. Is this really them? Is this really fucking them?

Eventually something glints in the cool gaze, and the man turns away. “Let him loose,” he instructs. “He’ll keep shut if he knows what’s good for him,” the man says smirking down at him and grabbing his shoulder to pull him to his feet. He gives Alfredo a shove to send him on his way, with a final word of warning. “And if he doesn’t I’ll personally cut his snitching tongue out myself.”

Alfredo doesn’t waste any time and runs as if his life depends on it, tearing through the park towards his home; and not once looking back.

Part 2

[staygoldtwobitch-blog]

Hear me out this is long (kinda) but it's what I want for Johnny Cade

What if Johnny lived, but in order for him to breathe on his own again he would have to have a series of different surgeries that costed way too much.

Darry and Soda were out of question for paying, they loved Johnny but they loved staying together more and had to use any money they could get to keep the state happy.

Two-Bit would give Dally all the money that his mom gave him whenever he babysat his sister. The first time he gave money is when he crashed into the Curtis’s house, stood in front of Dally and gave him 85 dollars, two weeks worth of babysitting. Dally had never been so grateful for Two-Bit, and Two-Bit noticed Dally’s hesitation in taking the money so he said “who needs money when you got sneaky hands like these?” Adding jazz hands to show he meant it.

Steve and his dad fought, it got so bad that he got kicked out and in the mornings when Steve came back his dad would beg for forgiveness and gave him money, for a little fight it would range around 10 to 20 dollars if it was a big one it would be 50 to 80 dollars. Steve didn’t want the money, so he put it all in a jar and every month he’d give the jar to Dally.

Ponyboy, despite his overprotective older brothers saying no, always went around town looking for paying jobs, he didn’t have time for a real job due to school and track meets so he went around looking on notice boards and stuff for people who needed their lawn mowed or something and paid fairly. Ever since Dally told the gang the news of Johnny needing surgery Ponyboy didn’t have time for movies or reading or hanging out with Curly Shepherd. He spent all of his spare time looking for jobs. Tim Shepherd always offered him a few hours at the stables, fully paid. He always accepted because money was money. Buck had also caught him on the street and offered to pay him to help out at the bar and he accepted. Even though when Darry found out he and Dally stormed over to Buck’s and gave him a beating he’d never forget, Buck was a little petty about it and lowered Pony’s pay from a huge amount of 5 dollars an hour to 2 dollars every two hours. Bastard.

Dally worked double shifts every day and night, he had hid it from the gang pretty well until Ponyboy was checking what shifts he’d like at the stables and saw Dally had snatched them all, he immediately went over to Dally and scolded him about how important sleep and self care was. When he knew Dally stopped listening he put on the fake waterworks and Tim had snickered, knowing the trick from Angela, and shouted to the other workers “hey guys! Dallas is makin Baby Curtis cry! Quick get Sodapop and Darry on the phone, I’m taking bets on which one arrives under 2 minutes” Dally had grumbled something under his breath and told Ponyboy that he wasn’t going to work himself to death, then let it slip that Johnny didn’t deserve to stay in that hospital where the nurses were mean and the only noise at night was people crying, Ponyboy had frowned and nodded, and Dally gave into Ponyboy’s outstretched arms. The moment Dally’s head hit Ponyboy’s shoulder the sudden memory of Mr Curtis gently placing a tiny, green eyed wonder in his arms came into his mind and he teared up, but if you ask him he would say he had been awake for 72 hours and didn’t know what he was doing.

It took about 4 months but they had all the money in front of a shocked Doctor, who quickly adjusted his glasses and coughed, he said they’d get started as soon as they could and Johnny would be able to go home after 5 different surgeries.

Johnny, who was on the second floor on his hospital bed, heard Two-Bit singing “Johnny is gonna be my bitch, he owes me so much money, I could afford to go to Disneyland, after my bitch Johnny pays me bbbaaaaccckkkk” from the first floor, he raised an eyebrow and peeked his eyes open, shaking his head he thought he imagined it before he heard the familiar voice of Ponyboy Curtis cry loudly “FINALLY THE SWEET SENSATION OF SLEEP WILL BE UP-” for silence, a minute or two, than there were nurses and doctors wheeling Ponyboy past Johnny’s room, Ponyboy peeked one eye open just in time to grin at Johnny.

[an-outsiders-sunset]

Darry Curtis Prompt List No.5

            You were never good with yelling, you hated when people did it. It made you feel weak, vulnerable even, you just plain out hated it. Your boyfriend, Darry is doing just that, he came home from his work mad and wanting to pick a fight.

“When I come home I want dinner on my table, I’ve already had to deal with a bunch of bullshit today I don’t need crap from you!” He yelled making you flinch. He had an angry, unpredictable look in his eye and it scared you.

“Darry I’m sorry, just please stop yelling.” You mumbled quietly hoping he could hear you but to no avail, your noise was blocked out by the anger and frustration.

“You want me to stop yelling?! You want me to stop fucking yelling?! God why don’t you grow up a little and stop being such a little kid, I already got two kid brothers I don’t need another person who doesn’t use their head around here!” He yelled louder, punching the wall next to you, causing you to lose all strength and hope you had in holding on to your level headed demeanor.

You looked up at him, the aftermath of his words evident on your face. Tears started to form blocking your vision, that’s when u decided to bolt. You ran as fast as you could out of the Curtis house, away from Darry. You ran past the drive in, past the dingo, past DX, and finally past the movie house, strict soc territory. You just kept walking.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” A dark silky smooth voice taunted. A soc. You can tell, you can smell the beer and whiskey reeking off of him and probably his friends that were the makers of all the loud footsteps.

You didn’t want to turn around in fear you would actually have to face reality and the fact that you could quite possibly die tonight.

“Looks like we got ourselves a pretty young thing, huh Mark?” Another voice announced closer than the one before.

you wanted to yell, no matter how much you hated it you wanted to yell and scream for help, for anyone, Darry, Dallas, Steve, even Tim or Curly, hell they would make this situation better.

“Wanna tell me your name doll?” The first to speak menacingly asked.

Flashback

            You were walking through the drive in to your seat when a group of guys walked up to you blocking your way.

“Hey sorry to bother ya, but ya see my brother over there, yep the big baby trying to hide in his jacket, he really likes ya.” The youngest looking said.

“Well then, why don’t you tell that big baby to come over here and meet me?” I asked smirking.

“Will do.” And with that he, and the rest of the boys, dragged the biggest one of the group closer to me.

“Pony I don’t wanna do this.” He poorly whispered to the younger one.

“Look Darry, all you got say is…” The toughest looking one started then proceeded to whisper in his ear making who I’m guessing is Darry nod.

He came up to my smiling shyly then started, “Wanna tell me your name doll?”

Flashback over

This time, it didn’t make you giggle with butterflies in your stomach. It made you cringe with bile rising in your throat.

“What cats got your tongue?” The one they called Mark asked while caressing your face with his thumb suddenly slapping you with the back of his right hand making you trip over your own two feet and fall to the ground.

“Go at it boys.” He gestured to the three guys behind him who slowly made their way towards you.

            It happened so fast you barely had time to process who was doing what. You were hit from each angle, you could feel your clothes being torn. You yelled for Darry, Dallas, anybody really. You thought like some fiction book Pony reads, Darry would come back apologizing and save you at the last second, but your life wasn’t a fairy tale, you lived in a real world were shit happens and not everything goes to plan. So, they beat you until you were unconscious and after that you weren’t too sure what they did to you behind the movie house. Much to your surprise it wasn’t Darry who found you, it’s wasn’t Two or Dally. It was Randy Adderson who happened to be walking behind that movie house as a short cut home when he saw your nearly bare body thrown on the floor in a pile of blood and bruised, dirty limbs.

            Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by a bright white light making you immediately shut your eyes again. Opening your eyes again, this time you try and adjust to the light looking around to find your surrounds quite bare. You were in a hospital room.

“Hey, I thought you’d be awake by now.” Someone said walking in to the room.

Looking up you saw someone you’d never expect to see helping you in a million years, Mr. Popular, Randy Adderson.

“What are you doing here?” He let out a sigh and started explaining.

            You’re in complete shock, how far did they go, does Darry even care that I’m gone?

The doctor came in to check you while Randy was telling you the story, so know you are just waiting to be discharged from the hospital.

“Um, Y/n? There is somebody here that wants to see you.” Randy said peeking his head through the door.

“Let them in.” You rasped out as best as you could.

The door then burst open with the force you knew only one was capable of, it’s Darry.

He ran towards your bed, eyes red, evident that he had been crying. The closer he got the more the small bud of fear inside of you started to grow. It grew and grew until he was right next to you and you were noticeably shaking with your eyes shut.

“Baby?”

“I’m sorry. Just please, please don’t yell.” I rushed out hoping I would anger him.

“Oh god, baby I’m the one who should be sorry, I should have never yelled at you like that, never pushed you away.” He said, his lip quivering.

“I don’t know what those filthy things did to you, and it all my fault cause I’m stupid and I don’t use my head, but please baby forgive me, you have to.” He said all in one breath as he began to cry, leaning towards me he took my hand in his getting on his knees and kissing my knuckles.

“I love you Darry, please get up. I forgive you honey, I understand.” I rushed out trying to reassure him while also trying to hold back your tears. One bawl baby was enough.

“I love you baby, I love you so much thank you.” He said kissing my forehead.

“Hey, this might be a bad time but I’m gonna head home.” Randy said popping his head in the room.

“Go ahead, and thank you, for everything.” I smiled at him.

“Ya, thank you for savin my girl. You aren’t a bad guy.” Darry said, nodding his head in approval at the teenage boy who seemed a little too happy to have the acceptance of Darryl Curtis, football star.