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thewulf · 8 months ago

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Troublemaker || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request -Hiiii! can you do a Dallas Winston x Curtis Sister Reader (maybe sodapop's twin?) who is soooo different than soda. She's a firecracker with a mouth on her that gets her in trouble? Dally finds himself repeatedly rescuing the Curtis sister reader, who always seems to get into trouble with her sharp tongue and rebellious streak... Read Rest Here

A/N: I kinda love this one deeply. Something about a troublemaker loving another one gets writing (alot) hahah hope you guys enjoy! Kinda OOC Dally at some points but idc, I love it!

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader (Curtis Sister)

Word Count: 5.3k +

TW: choice words, fighting, punching, blood, general Outsiders TW

1. Clowns at the Drive-In:

The night was alive with the buzz of excitement at the local drive-in, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and gasoline. The flickering lights of the movie screen cast shadows across the rows of cars parked haphazardly, each filled with eager teenagers seeking a brief escape from the monotony of their everyday lives.

But for you, the Curtis sister, it spelled trouble. Perched on the hood of your twin brother Sodapop's car, you exchanged barbs with a group of Socs who had taken offense to your sharp retorts and fiery demeanor. Sodapop himself was inside the concession stand, chatting with a few friends, while your youngest brother Ponyboy was engrossed in a book, oblivious to the brewing confrontation outside. You’d never catch Darry at one of these movie nights anymore.

"You think you're real funny, huh?" one of the Socs sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as he loomed over you, his companions snickering behind him.

You merely smirked, unfazed by the hostility radiating from the group. "Funny enough to make you clowns laugh, that's for sure."

Your words were met with a chorus of jeers and taunts, fueling the fire of your defiance as you squared your shoulders and met their gazes head-on. But just as the tension reached its boiling point, a looming figure emerged from the concession stand, cutting through the crowd with a swagger that commanded attention. For Dally always had his eyes on you. Especially after your parents passed.

Dallas Winston, the epitome of reckless abandon and untamed rebellion, emerged from the shadows like a predator stalking its prey. His presence alone commanded attention, the faint glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he sauntered towards the confrontation with an air of nonchalance.

As he drew closer, his leather jacket seemed to gleam in the dim light of the drive-in, the scent of cigarette smoke trailing behind him like a phantom. His gaze swept over the scene before him, taking in every detail with a predatory intensity that sent shivers down the spines of those unlucky enough to meet his stare. Dallas freaking Winston.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Dally drawled, his voice low and dripping with utter irritation as he finally spoke, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation before him.

The Socs, caught off guard by his sudden appearance, turned their attention to him, their expressions shifting from hostility to uncertainty as they recognized the infamous greaser in their midst. But despite their feigned courage, there was an underlying sense of unease in their demeanor, a silent acknowledgment of the danger that lurked beneath Dally's cool exterior.

"This ain't none of your business, Winston," one of them muttered, his voice tinged with defiance but faltering in the face of Dally's imposing presence.

Dally merely smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stepped between them and you, effectively cutting off any further confrontation with his sheer presence alone. His posture radiated confidence, a silent warning to anyone foolish enough to challenge him.

"I think it is now," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine as you watched from your perch on the hood of the car. “You made it my problem.”

There was a tense silence as the standoff continued, the air heavy with anticipation as both sides weighed their options. But before things could escalate further, Dally's gaze flickered towards the Socs with a silent warning, a promise of consequences should they choose to push their luck any further.

With a final, angry glance in their direction, the Socs begrudgingly backed down, their bravado no match for the steely resolve of the infamous greaser. And as they slunk away into the shadows, defeated but not defeated, you couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude mixed with a sense of awe at the enigmatic figure who had just saved you from a brawl you couldn't have won.

After Dallas stepped between you and the Socs, a cocky grin spread across his lips, revealing that usual glint of mischief in his eyes. "Your welcome, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he turned his attention to you.

You bristled at his audacity, your temper flaring like a matchstick ignited. With a roll of your eyes, you shot back, "Don't flatter yourself, tough guy. I could've handled those idiots just fine on my own."

Dallas chuckled, unfazed by your sharp retort. "Sure, looked like it," he remarked, his grin widening as he leaned against the hood of Sodapop's car, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest defiantly. "You know, not everyone needs a knight in shining armor to come to their rescue."

Dally raised an eyebrow, his expression turning contemplative as he studied you. "Maybe not, but it sure beats getting your pretty face smashed in by a bunch of Soc’s."

Your cheeks flushed with indignation at his comment, but you couldn't deny the underlying truth in his words. With a huff of frustration, you conceded defeat, albeit begrudgingly. "Fine, maybe I owe you one," you muttered under your breath, your pride refusing to let you admit defeat outright.

Dally's grin widened at your admission, a glimmer of triumph shining in his eyes. "You owe me more than just one, sweetheart," he replied, his tone teasing as he pushed himself off the car. and sauntered away, leaving you seething with a mixture of irritation and reluctant admiration.

While you watched him disappear into the darkness, you couldn't help but wonder what it was about Dallas Winston that both infuriated and intrigued you in equal measure. And as the night stretched on, you found yourself unable to shake the feeling that your paths were destined to cross time and time again, whether you liked it or not.

2. A Brush with the Law:

In the midst of your rebellious streak, you found yourself in a predicament that even your usually suave tongue couldn't talk your way out of. It was one of those nights where mischief seemed like the only way to break free from the suffocating grip of the mundane.

The evening began innocently enough, with you and a few friends roaming the streets in search of excitement. The city lights flickered like distant stars, casting shadows that danced along the pavement, teasing you with the promise of adventure. But as the night wore on, the allure of mischief grew stronger, pulling you deeper into its grasp with each passing moment.

It started with harmless pranks and playful banter, the kind of mischief that left a trail of laughter in its wake. But as the hours stretched on and the adrenaline surged through your veins, the line between harmless fun and reckless abandon began to blur. The world became a playground, and you were determined to make the most of it, consequences be damned.

By now, the cops knew you on a first-name basis from all the petty trouble you had caused. They had become all too familiar with your antics, chasing after you like a dog chasing its tail, only to watch helplessly as you slipped through their fingers time and time again. They had warned you countless times, given you more chances than you deserved, but tonight felt different.

Tonight, there was a weariness in their eyes, a sense of resignation that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. They were tired. Tired of dealing with your antics, tired of letting you off with a warning only to see you back at it again the next day. It was as if they had reached the end of their patience, the final straw in a long line of frustrations that stretched back further than you cared to remember.

But even in the face of their stern warnings and thinly veiled threats, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. The thrill of rebellion was a drug, intoxicating and irresistible, and you were hooked. It was a dangerous game you played, dancing on the edge of disaster with reckless abandon, but in that moment, it was the only thing that made you feel truly alive. You needed it.

As they cornered you in the dimly lit alley, their voices stern and faces etched with grim determination, the threat of spending the night in jail loomed over you like a dark cloud. Panic gripped your chest in a vise-like grip, squeezing the air from your lungs as you frantically scanned the surroundings for a way out. But the walls of the alley closed in around you, leaving you feeling trapped and helpless, like a mouse caught in a cat's claws.

Your mind raced with thoughts of the consequences awaiting you if you were to be taken into custody. You couldn't shake the image of your oldest brother Darry's disappointed face, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern as he realized the extent of your latest misadventure. You knew he would be furious, not just at the trouble you had gotten yourself into, but at the worry and stress it would inevitably cause him and your other brothers. The fear of facing Darry's wrath was almost suffocating, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest as you grappled with the realization of just how badly you had messed up. In your reckless pursuit of excitement and rebellion, you had failed to consider the consequences of your actions, the fallout that would inevitably follow in their wake.

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a familiar figure emerged from the entrance of the alley, his presence a welcome relief in the darkness. Dallas Winston stepped forward with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his piercing gaze locking with the officers' with an unwavering intensity.

"Easy there, fellas," Dally drawled, his voice carrying a hint of amusement that bordered on insolence. "No need to get your badges in a twist."

His words sliced through the tension in the alleyway like a well-honed blade, disrupting the somber atmosphere with an unexpected twist. The officers, taken aback by Dallas's nonchalant demeanor, exchanged wary glances, unsure of how to respond to his brazen defiance.

But Dally, ever the master of manipulation, wasted no time in seizing the opportunity to sway the officers to your side. With a casual shrug of his shoulders and a smirk dancing at the corners of his lips, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you and the law enforcement with a confidence that bordered on audacity.

"Look, we all know she's a handful," Dally continued, his voice smooth and persuasive, laced with an undertone of genuine concern. "But taking her in ain't gonna solve anything. Trust me, I've tried. You know what they’ve been through."

As he spoke, a flicker of empathy flashed in his eyes, a subtle acknowledgment of the turmoil that had plagued your life since your parents' untimely demise. He knew all too well the pain of loss, the ache of abandonment that lingered long after the funeral flowers had withered away. And though he rarely showed it, there was a part of him that understood the reckless desperation that drove you to seek solace in acts of rebellion.

The officers, their resolve waning in the face of Dallas's persuasive charm, exchanged hesitant glances, silently wrestling with their conscience. They knew the Curtis family's tragic history, knew the burden of responsibility that weighed heavily on your shoulders in the wake of your parents' death. And as they looked into your eyes, they saw not a delinquent, but a lost soul searching for a way to fill the void left behind by loss and grief.

With a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire world, the lead officer relented. His shoulders slumped in defeat; the lines of exhaustion etched deeply into his weary face as he stepped aside to allow you to pass. "Fine," he grumbled, the resignation evident in his voice, "but this is the last time."

His words hung heavy in the air, a somber reminder of the precarious balance between leniency and accountability that governed their duties as law enforcement officers. They had given you more chances than you deserved, turned a blind eye to your transgressions time and time again, but they knew that their patience was wearing thin. There was only so much they could overlook before the hammer of justice came crashing down with unrelenting force.

Dally, ever the opportunist, seized upon the moment of vulnerability with a triumphant smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He nodded in acknowledgment, a silent acknowledgment of their unspoken agreement as he draped an arm around your shoulders with an air of possessiveness. "Appreciate it, fellas," he remarked, his voice oozing with satisfaction as he guided you away from the alley, away from the looming threat of incarceration.

And as you walked side by side into the night, the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of gratitude for the tough greaser who had come to your rescue once again. You glanced up at him, the flickering streetlights casting shadows across his features, and offered him a tentative smile of thanks. It was a small gesture, a token of appreciation for his unwavering loyalty and unyielding support in the face of adversity.

As you looked at him, his cocky grin softened by a flicker of genuine concern, you couldn't help but wonder what it was about him that drew you in like a moth to a flame. His eyes, usually sharp and piercing, now held a warmth that caught you off guard, melting away the layers of cockiness to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability beneath.

But before you could dwell on it further, Dally's voice broke through your reverie, his words laced with a hint of amusement that conveyed the seriousness lurking just beneath the surface.

"You're quite the troublemaker, sweetheart," he remarked, his tone playful yet tinged with a note of concern.

You rolled your eyes in response, a smirk of your own tugging at the corners of your lips. "And you're quite the smooth talker, Winston," you replied, unable to hide the admiration in your voice despite your best efforts.

As the words left your lips, Dally's expression shifted, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. There was a weightiness to his gaze, a silent question lingering in the air as he studied you intently, his eyes searching for the truth behind your casual facade.

"Hey, are you actually alright?" he asked, his voice softer now, stripped of its usual playfulness. His concern was palpable, genuine, a stark contrast to the tough exterior he typically presented to the world. "This isn't like you, getting caught by the fuzz like that."

His unexpected tenderness caught you off guard, the sincerity in his question piercing through the layers bullshit you typically wore like armour. You hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the depth of his concern, before offering him a small nod of reassurance.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, though the words felt hollow even to your own ears. You forced a casual tone, hoping to brush off the weight of his inquiry, the nagging doubts that gnawed at the edges of your mind. "Just got a little carried away, that's all."

But even as you spoke, you knew it wasn't just a momentary lapse in judgment. There was a restlessness inside you, a longing for something more than the mundane routine of everyday life, that drove you to seek out trouble wherever you could find it. And in that moment, as you stood before Dally with his piercing gaze fixed upon you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you.

Dally continued to study you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and understanding. He didn't press further, sensing that there was more to your story than you were willing to reveal. Instead, he offered you a small, understanding smile, a silent reassurance that he would be there for you whenever you were ready to open up.

"I get it," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

His words caught you off guard, a flicker of warmth spreading through your chest at the sincerity behind them. And as you met his gaze, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the tough greaser who had dared to care when no one else did.

With a subtle squeeze of his arm around your shoulders, Dally offered you a reassuring smile, a silent promise that he would always be there to watch your back, no matter what trouble you managed to find yourself in. And as you walked side by side into the night, the echoes of his words mingling with the sounds of the city, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the tough greaser who had dared to care when no one else did.

3. Escaping a Sticky Situation:

As the Friday night lights illuminated the football field, casting a glow of excitement over the small town, the air crackled with anticipation. It was meant to be a harmless prank, a bit of mischief to inject some excitement into the dull routine of small-town life. But what had started as a simple joke quickly spiraled out of control, and you, the Curtis sister, found yourself in a precarious situation.

The prank had been innocent enough at first—a bit of good-natured rivalry between the Greasers and the Socs. However, things took a dangerous turn when the Soc boys, their egos bruised and their tempers flaring, decided to retaliate with more than just words. They targeted you, singling you out from the crowd, their menacing glares and clenched fists leaving no doubt about their intentions.

Your heart raced with adrenaline, panic clawing at your chest as you frantically searched for a way out of the tightening circle of Soc boys. But as the situation grew more dire, Dallas Winston yet again emerged like a savior in the darkness, his presence a welcome relief amidst the chaos and looming threat of violence. By this point you were convinced it was your brothers who had him watching you for how else could he, quite literally, always be there to say you from these situations?

As the chaos unfolded near the stands, Dallas Winston's arrival seemed almost surreal. At first, his laughter echoed across the small courtyard area, a stark contrast to the tension thickening the air. But as he surveyed the scene, his amusement quickly morphed into a glare of righteous anger.

"Buncha tough guys picking on a little lady, huh?" Dally's voice cut through the chaos like a knife, his tone dripping with disdain as he confronted the Soc boys. His words carried a weight of accusation, a challenge to their masculinity and decency.

As Dally's words hung in the air, the Soc boys hesitated, their usual boastfulness faltering under his scathing gaze. But one of them, bolder—or perhaps more foolish—than the rest, reached out and laid a hand on your arm, his grip tight and menacing.

Instantly, Dally saw red.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, his fists flying in a blur of motion as he unleashed a barrage of punches on the Soc who dared to lay hands on you. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, the sound echoing across the field like a drumbeat of fury.

The other Soc boys, realizing their mistake too late, attempted to intervene, but Dally was a force to be reckoned with. With a ferocity born of righteous anger, he fought like a man possessed, his only thought to protect you from harm.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was likely only seconds, Dally's onslaught came to an end. The Soc who had dared to touch you lay crumpled on the ground, bloodied, and bruised, but alive.

Dally stood over him, his chest heaving with exertion and adrenaline, his eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and triumph. The other Soc's had long since fled, likely for help. But he didn’t give a damn. His attention was now on you. And as he turned to you, his expression softened with a mixture of relief and concern, seeing you standing there relatively unharmed. It was when he saw the tears in your eyes that he knew he had to do something.

Dally's gaze softened further as he approached you with caution, the fire in his eyes dimming to reveal a rare glimpse of vulnerability. He reached out tentatively, his rough hand coming to rest on your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded moments before.

"Hey, it's alright, sweetheart," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm to the turmoil raging inside you. "You're okay. It’ll be alright." He attempted to console you as best as he could, however it wasn’t his strong suit.

But the tears continued to flow unabated, a testament to the fear and adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You tried to hold them back, to maintain the facade of strength and resilience that had always been your shield against the world. But in that moment, with Dally standing before you, all of your defenses crumbled.

Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you buried your face in your hands, the weight of the night crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You could feel the tremors wracking your body, the sobs tearing from your throat in ragged gasps.

Dally watched you carefully, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. Without a bit of hesitation, he wrapped you in a warm embrace, pulling you close to his chest as if to shield you from the world's cruelties. His arms felt surprisingly comforting, a safe haven amidst the chaos that had engulfed you.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's okay to let it out," he whispered gently, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of your storm. "You're safe now, darlin'. I've got you."

His words washed over you like a gentle wave, calming the storm of emotions raging inside you. For the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, to find solace in the warmth of his presence. As the tears continued to fall, Dally held you close, his grip firm yet gentle. He didn't try to offer empty reassurances or false promises. Instead, he simply held you, a silent pillar of strength in the darkness.

The Unexpected Thank You:

As the weight of the night's events settled upon your shoulders like a heavy cloak, you couldn't help but feel a wave of vulnerability wash over you. The adrenaline that had fueled you earlier now gave way to a profound sense of exhaustion, both physical and emotional. And in the quiet solitude of the street, with only Dally's presence beside you, you felt the walls you had carefully built around your heart begin to crumble.

"Thank you, Dallas," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a rawness you hadn't expected. "For everything."

Your words hung in the air, vulnerable and exposed, a stark contrast to the tough exterior you usually wore like armor. In that moment, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, as if a weight had been lifted from your chest. For so long, you had been carrying the burden of your troubles alone, too afraid to let anyone else see the cracks in your facade. But with Dally standing beside you, offering a silent anchor in the storm, you found yourself finally able to let go.

When you looked into his eyes, you saw something flicker beneath the tough exterior, something vulnerable and achingly human. It was a mirror of your own inner turmoil, a silent acknowledgment of the pain and loneliness that lurked within you both. And in that shared moment of vulnerability, you realized that perhaps, just perhaps, you were more alike than you had ever dared to imagine.

As Dally enveloped you in his embrace for the second time that night, his arms offering solace and refuge, a tender silence settled between you, broken only by the soft sound of your quiet sobs. In that moment, words seemed inadequate to express the depth of the emotions coursing through you both. But as you held each other close, your hearts spoke volumes, weaving a silent symphony of understanding and compassion.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, you know," Dally murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear. "It's okay to let yourself feel, to let yourself grieve."

His words resonated deep within you, stirring a bittersweet ache in your chest. For so long, you had tried to bury your pain beneath layers of confidence and defiance, afraid to confront the gaping hole that your mother and fathers absence had left behind. But in Dally's embrace, you found the courage to face your demons, to confront the rawness of your grief without fear of judgment or rejection.

With trembling hands, you clung to him, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. And as you spoke of your mother, of the memories that still lingered like ghosts in the corners of your mind, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you, as if by giving voice to your pain, you could finally set yourself free.

"I miss her, Dally. I miss them," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper, choked with emotion. "Every day, it feels like a piece of me is missing. Like I'm lost without her. She was my best friend and now she’s just gone.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the relentless passage of time. And as you gazed into Dally's eyes, you saw your own pain reflected back at you, a shared understanding that transcended words.

"You're not alone, sweetheart," Dally replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I may not have all the answers, but I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

In that moment, you felt a surge of gratitude and affection for the tough greaser who had stood by your side through thick and thin. In his arms, you found a sense of belonging you had never known, a sanctuary from the storm of emotions that raged within you.

In the hushed intimacy of your embrace, the turmoil within you quieted, replaced by a sense of tranquility you had never known. But amidst the stillness, a storm raged within you, a tempest of conflicting emotions that threatened to consume you.

With each steady heartbeat, you felt the tendrils of affection wrapping around your heart, weaving a tapestry of emotions you struggled to comprehend. The way his touch ignited a warmth deep within you, the way his voice soothed the turmoil of your soul — these were sensations you had never experienced before, and yet they felt undeniably right.

As you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you couldn't shake the realization that your feelings for Dally surpassed mere gratitude or admiration. It was something more, something you couldn't quite put into words but felt with every fiber of your being.

In the quiet of the night, you allowed yourself to explore these newfound emotions, to sift through the tangled mess of your thoughts and feelings. And in doing so, you came to a startling revelation — you liked him, more than you had ever dared to admit.

But the thought of confessing your feelings to Dally filled you with a heady mixture of excitement and trepidation. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if your friendship was forever altered by your admission? Yet, as you glanced up at him, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, you saw a vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored your own. Perhaps, you thought, he felt the same way — a silent understanding that transcended words.

Summoning your courage, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to do. With a trembling hand, you reached up to cup his cheek, your touch feather-light against his stubbled skin.

"Dally," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I need to tell you."

As your eyes met, you sensed an unspoken understanding passing between you. Without needing further words, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. It was a tender gesture, filled with reassurance and affection, a silent promise of his unwavering support and care.

But before you could utter another word, Dally's hand gently tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into yours with a intensity that made your heart race.

"I need to tell you something too," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the soft night breeze.

Your breath caught in your throat as you waited, anticipation coursing through every fiber of your being.

"Doll," he continued, his voice husky with emotion, "I've been wanting to say this for a while now, but I ain't never found the right words. I reckon there’s no fancy way to put it, so I'll just say it straight."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before meeting your gaze once more.

"I love you," he confessed, his words hanging in the air like a sacred vow.

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission, emotions swirling within you like a tempest. For so long, you had harbored these feelings, afraid to voice them, afraid of what they might mean for your friendship, for your future. But now, as those three simple words hung in the air between you, you felt as if a weight had been lifted from your chest, replaced by a warmth that radiated from the very core of your being.

You searched his eyes, seeking confirmation of the truth you dared to believe. And there, amidst the depths of his gaze, you found it — sincerity, vulnerability, and a love that mirrored your own. It was a revelation that left you breathless, a realization that this connection you shared transcended the boundaries of friendship, binding you together in a bond that felt unbreakable.

"I love you too, Dally," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, as if afraid that speaking the words aloud would make them disappear into the night.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the world fading into insignificance as you both basked in the sheer weight of those words. They held within them the promise of a future unknown, yet somehow certain in its inevitability. And as he pulled you into a tight embrace, you felt a sense of belonging wash over you, as if you had finally found your place in the world.

With his arms around you, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, no matter what storms threatened to tear you apart, you had each other. Together, you could weather any adversity, conquer any obstacle that stood in your path. For in each other's arms, you found strength, comfort, and a love that knew no bounds.

"Hey," he whispered softly, his breath tickling your ear as he held you close. "You don't have to say anything more. I'm here, and I ain't goin' nowhere."

For the first time in a while you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a profound gratitude for the man who stood by your side through thick and thin. With a heartfelt sigh, you nestled against him, finding solace in his presence as you stood together beneath the starlit sky. In his embrace, you found sanctuary, a refuge from the uncertainties of the world outside. And as you looked up at the twinkling stars above, you knew that your love would light the way through even the darkest of nights, guiding you towards a future filled with endless possibilities.

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only-lonely-star · 3 months ago

Note

hi! Can you do a Curtis sister imagine (she's older than pony but younger than soda) and the boys are sooo protective over her and scare away any boys who look at her so they think she's never even kissed a guy. Then she's at home alone and thinks the boys won't be home for a while and is making out with a guy in her room when Darry bursts in with the boys and they all lose their minds

୨୧ Not What It Looks Like ୨୧

~ Curtis Brothers (Curtis Sibling Reader)~

Warnings - Kissing, mild shouting and cursing, mild violence

Summary - You thought you had hours…

Author’s Note - Hii! I won’t be as busy this week so I’ll be sure to finish more requests as the week progresses, so sorry for the wait! Thank you so so much for the request, this one was fun to write, enjoy! 😽🫶🏼

Word Count - 2.4k.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄☆ ⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

(Quick A/N || I decided to name the boy’s character ‘Thomas’ just because I find it easier than saying ‘the boy’ a hundred times or something 😭)

The Curtis residence was always a busy place. Whether friends were over, or it was just another chaotic night - there was never a dull moment. Tonight, however, you were declared as '(Wo)Man of the House' by your oldest brother, Darrel. Ponyboy and Sodapop didn't seem to mind lending you the title for the night, you did most of the housekeeping and whatnot anyway.

Ponyboy could be found slicking his hair back, standing in front of the bathroom mirror attempting to look tuff - or so he thought. Sodapop was occupied with Darrel, the pair pacing around the house as they rallied themselves up for the night. They were all going on a ‘guys night out’…whatever that meant. You were standing around, waiting to wave them off for the night.

Ponyboy emerged from the bathroom, a look of excitement in his eye as he approached the others.

“You ready?” Darrel asked, giving him a firm pat on the back, smiling down to him. Ponyboy nodded and hooked his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, admiring Sodapop who stood beside him.

“Finally, took you ‘bout an hour to grease that hair up,” Sodapop chuckled, gently grazing his fingertips along the swoops of Ponyboy’s hair, combed back to utter perfection.

You let out a small sigh, a knowing grin creeping up on your face. You dismissed it as relief that your three rowdy brothers would give you some alone time. “So, are you guys…leaving…yet?”

Darrel raised an eyebrow, slowly stepping for the door as the other two followed. “Boy, someone sure is sick of us,” he snorted, the doorknob in the palm of his hand.

You sarcastically played along, shoving Sodapop and Ponyboy by the back of their shoulders with a scoff. “Sure am, get out.”

They exchanged small glances, Ponyboy holding up his hands in defense. “We’re goin’, we’re goin’…”

It didn’t take long for the two to file out, Darrel staying behind to have a word with you. He popped his hand on his hip, the other moving a stray strand of hair to rest behind your ear. His eyes met yours, a look of concern etched on his face. “Listen, you know I don’t like leaving you home alone,” he began, sensing your rebuttal a mile away.

“I’ll be fine, you ain’t gotta worry,” you assured him, your voice a rather gentle one. You knew that was the key to fooling him - it always was.

Darrel took your word for it, wrapping up his lecture before it even began. “No boys, no cookin’, no driving,” he spoke with finality, his index finger pointed to you as he reinforced the rules he set since the loss of your parents.

“I know!” you exclaimed, mildly frustrated with how protective he was acting. It would only be a few hours before he, Ponyboy, and Sodapop returned. It wasn’t like you were about to cause a disaster home alone - you’d done this countless times.

Darrel shook his head, wrapping an arm around the small of your back as yours wrapped around his chest. “Be back at eleven,” he murmured, pulling away and stepping outside the front door. You stepped outside as well, your feet kept on the steps as your brothers began to cruise on down the road. Waving them off with a smile, the boys reciprocated before disappearing into the horizon of the night sky.

You leaped for the side of the house, looking around frantically with a giggle of excitement. Your voice echoed, a mix of a whisper yet a beckon. “Thomas! Thomas, where are - …”

A hand grabbed your forearm, the boy hoisting himself up from within the small bushes along the side of your house. “I’m here.”

You leaped into his arms, picking away at small twigs and leaves that had fallen into his messy brown hair. Your legs wrapped around his waist the gentle feeling of your body against his, the boy’s hands holding you up from your hips. You chuckled, feeling the sweat practically dripping from his hair as you pecked his cheek. “How long have you been out here? I told you seven p.m!”

Thomas spun you around a few times before walking towards the front door that still stood wide open. “I left my place around six-forty, got here a minute ago,” he replied softly, carefully setting you down on the soft, beige sofa.

Your arms still yearned for him, even as he took a seat beside you, resting his arm over the top of the couch. He had only love in his eyes, admiring you from head to toe. “So, what’s the verdict?” he posed, grinning down at you, his free hand running through his hair.

“No boys,” you restated, remembering Darrel’s rules with a small sigh of annoyance. You’d gone this far anyway - so what did it matter? “But Darry said he’ll be back ‘round eleven with Soda and Ponyboy.”

Thomas’s grin only widened from there, settling himself into the couch further. “Oh so we got lots of time, hm?”

You tilted your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Somethin’ like that,”

This felt a little too risky, sneaking a boy around in the living room of all places. They wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, but it still felt strange. Standing from the sofa, you tugged on Thomas’s wrist. “Let’s go to my room, I don’t feel safe here,” you joked, a small shake of your head as you glanced to the unlocked door. Thomas was more than happy to oblige, following you to your very empty yet feminine bedroom.

“So this is the little hide-out, huh?” he spoke teasingly as he glanced around, taking in the sight of clothes everywhere and a small vanity pushed to the corner of the room, across from your bed. He shut the door behind him, hesitating on whether to lock it or not. You sat down on the edge of the pink, ruffled bedding, clutching a pillow into your arms tightly.

“I guess it is,” you smiled softly, his charming gaze reeling you right in to where he wanted you. He stood in front of you, his hand moving to cup your jaw. You didn’t mind the touch of course, you were addicted to any touch from him.

Thomas removed his hand before sitting on the bed beside you, reaching out for the pillow. You reluctantly let go of it, knowing Thomas was about to make a bold move of some sort. You two were alone and absolutely infatuated with each other. He set the pillow aside, pressing his hand to your waist as he leaned his head closer to yours. “You’re beautiful,” he grinned, closing the distance between the two of you as his lips met yours.

Your eyes darted shut, one hand holding you propped up, the other resting atop his shoulder. This was no short peck, this was a deep and almost passionate kiss. You obviously reciprocated, the situation of being home alone too good to go to waste. You doubled his passion and added force to your kisses. Thinking fast, Thomas began to lean back as his head rested against the mattress. His hand found your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Thomas could feel your grin against his lips, his other hand moving to keep your jaw in his palm, ensuring your kisses didn’t stop any time soon. You pulled away panting, your smile never once faltering. “I think we should stop, I hear a car…” you began to say, a car door shutting nearby. The sound was eerily close - but then again your brothers weren’t scheduled to be home for a few hours.

Thomas gave a firm head shake, pulling your jaw closer. “Nope, it hasn’t even been an hour,” he reminded you, locking his lips onto yours once more.

You weren’t about to turn him down, so you did as told and continued, your head moving up and down with slight movements. Thomas’s tongue slipped in between your lips, the sensation was both new and a bit alarming. A small groan left your now parted lips, running your hand through his hair.

The sound of shuffling feet outside your bedroom door should’ve been a dead giveaway to stop - but your mind was cloudy and only focused on Thomas. It was far too late to stop now, even as the doorknob turned and you were aware someone was home, you didn’t have the time to stop.

“I forgot to bring my w-…” Darrel began, the door opening in a swift movement as he stood in the doorway absolutely baffled. His knuckles were now white as he squeezed onto the brown leather wallet in the palm of his hand. His instincts led him to toss the wallet with all of the force he could muster, landing directly on the boy you were laid atop of.

You pulled away in an instant, a small trail of shared saliva being wiped away using the back of your hand as the soft groans came to an immediate halt.

Your other brothers, Ponyboy and Sodapop, stood behind Darrel with displeased looks. “Come on, it doesn’t take this long to -…” Sodapop was quickly hushed as he too caught sight of scene.

Darrel stomped forward, his hands shaking with anger as he shouted at Thomas - the boy unbeknownst to their early arrival. “Get the hell out, the fuck are you doing with my little sister-?!” he shouted, his fists unraveling themselves to tug at Thomas’s shirt, stretching it out as he yanked him closer for answers.

You had never heard Darrel shout like that ever. You sprinted off the bed and stood in the opposite corner of the room as you watched Thomas nearly get a beating for the kiss.

Sodapop caught you off guard, his hand firmly grasping your bicep as his eyes bore into yours. “Who’s this boy?” he asked, his tone filled with utter disappointment - but at least it wasn’t anger like Darrel’s.

“It’s not what it looks like - Thomas and I just…” you began sheepishly, your eyes unable to make eye contact with him out of guilt.

Your eyes flickered over to Darrel briefly, watching him holler like you’d never seen before. Thomas nodded his head along vigorously, his eyes wide with fear as he desperately tried to free himself from Darrel’s grasp. Ponyby’s annoyed voice snapped you out of it, your attention directed towards him. “That boy from school? Really?”

Sodapop spoke up again, shoving your shoulder slightly as his expression held a stern look. “It don’t matter where he’s from, you know you ain’t allowed to have boys over.”

You glanced between Sodapop and Darrel, watching as he had to drag Thomas out of your bedroom, the yelling not yet ending. You swallowed the guilt down and nervously chewed the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry~” you began, your hands fidgeting as you thought about the hour long lecture you’d receive from Darrel.

Sodapop began mumbling words of annoyance under his breath at the newfound information you’d had some secret boyfriend going on. None of your brothers ever would have expected such a thing from you - hell, the last thing they would suspect from you was to be caught kissing some boy while they were gone. “Can’t trust her… we just can’t…” he mumbled to Ponyboy who looked equally as pissed.

Moments later, Darrel had his jaw still clenched with Thomas now long gone. He made his way to you with his fists balled up and resting by his sides. “You’ve got explaining to do,” he grumbled, his voice thick with anger. You’d betrayed his trust, Sodapop’s, and even Ponyboy’s.

Exhaling deeply, you took a step back, your hand trembling in fear. “I just thought -…” your voice was interrupted by Darrel’s.

“It would be fun to sneak a boy around? Behind our backs? Especially after I said no boys?” His arms crossed as his stern gaze seemed to deepen further.

You didn’t reply, you stood there matching his stance only yours was out of shame. You knew you were going against their set rules.

Darrel shook his head as he let out a sigh he’d been holding in for way too long. “We just wanna protect you, that’s all. That’s all I want,” he said in a somehow gentle tone, wrapping an arm around your back, the other gesturing for a group hug.

Sodapop and Ponyboy circled around you, hugging you tightly. It felt as if the mood had lightened a bit now that Thomas was gone and you were back in the protective arms of your brothers. Sodapop nuzzled his forehead against the top of your head, chuckling softly. “So you’ve had some boyfriend all along?”

Darrel stiffened but held back from lashing out yet again. Ponyboy grimaced and swatted your back with a teasing snort. “Him of all people too?”

You broke the hug off, having to pry off their arms as you finally cracked a sheepish smile. “Not anymore - I think Darry traumatized that poor guy,” you giggled, the guilt subsiding to a feeling of amusement. Sure it was a messy way to break the ice with your brothers - but it was bound to happen eventually.

Darrel gave your back a firm pat, Ponyboy and Sodapop stepping for the door to your bedroom, snickering and cracking jokes. “I forgot my wallet, I came back and thought I’d check on you,” he explained, picking up the wallet he used on Thomas.

You winced at the memory of it hitting him upside the head, the shock initially hitting you as you scrambled off of him. “I was wondering why you came so early…” you remarked playfully.

“I know why you were tryin’ to kick us out so bad now,” Darrel shot back, an equal amount of sarcasm laced in his voice. He shoved the leather wallet back into his pocket.

He stepped for the door to your bedroom once more, glancing back at you. “No boys. Ever.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, stepping closer to him to argue on the topic. Darrel was already down the hallway as you chased him down. “You said when i’m eighteen - …”

Darrel cracked open the front door with a head shake. “Eighteen, but I better not catch you and *Thomas* again,” he huffed, hopping down the stairs, his feet on the white cement, “or any boy for that matter.”

You sighed and waved him off for a second time, this time with the intention of following the rules. You vowed you’d never risk something like that again. “Eighteen!”

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18caramel · 7 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫! (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐡𝐜𝐬! 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

A/N I hate spiders ewwww but here you go. no spiders were harmed :) no specific terms for the reader ♡ pics from Pinterest

𝐒𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩

when Soda hears you scream "oh my, it's huge!" Darry gives him a weird look but laughs it off

he immediately rushes into his room to see what was happening

he sees you standing on top of the bed, terrified

he doesn't understand at first and jokes about it

but then sees that you are very overwhelmed and tries to comfort you

when he takes off his shoe you beg him to let it run away or take it outside

he giggles and tries to catch it and you kind of forget your fear for a moment

he's so gentle with it just like with any other creature when he finally catches it with a towel

you watch him let it go and then ask him to wash his hands

Soda rolls his eyes but goes

when he comes back you pull him into a tight hug

you both fall on top of the bed and Soda mocks you, saying "if it was huge, I must be giant"

you roll your eyes at him and he pulls you into a passionate kiss

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲

you were hanging Curtis’ clothes outside to dry because it was a summer evening

Darry was tired from his shift so he was smoking a cigarette on the porch

suddenly you scream as you see a huge black spot on the white t-shirt

Darry rushes to come and help you out but you both get stuck in the wet bedsheet that you just hung up

both of you fell on the floor laughing about it

but now you have to wash it again

and then you see the spider crawling on Darry's hair

you scream again but can't get up

Darry can't stop laughing at you

he gently takes the spider WITH HIS BARE HANDS and throws it far away

when you both get up he spins you around, still happy about what has happened

you apologize for falling down and wrecking the clothes

he kisses you on your forehead saying it was okay and he actually had fun

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞

you were driving with him, headed home

he was talking to you about his promotion when all of a sudden you saw a spider

Steve is very pissed at you for making his heart stop

you understand in a way because you were on the road

but he gets it too, he knows you hate them

he pulls up to a random house and tries to catch it, but you can't be emotionally there because you feel trapped

when he finally gets it out of the car he comes over to you to give you a hug

you cry into his shoulder because you got very emotional and scared

even if Steve is very tired from his shift and also dirty he pulls you into a hug

he tells you that it's okay

he reminds you that it was harmless but knows you won't ever listen

you thank him for being there for you

but you still can't forget about it when you get inside

Steve turns on the radio and you dance together

you are so happy to be with him and he's soooo happy too! aw

𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲

you almost faint when you see a spider in Dally’s bathroom

there was a huge party at Buck's so Dally is waiting for you in his room, making sure nobody would storm inside

when he hears you scream he straight away pulls out his g*n

you ran out of the bathroom half naked yelling about a spider

you ask him if he was really about to use it on a freaking spider and you laugh so hard

but Dally is not in a mood so he is really about to show you that he's capable of doing it

but lets go of that idea as soon as he realizes that you are half naked

he kind of wants to make out

but you tell him that he has to get rid of it immediately

as he tries to catch it you are even more terrified

Dallas is mocking you when he catches it with a cup

you ask him if he's going to let it escape but he says no

you get mad at him and go to bed

he knows you are watching him slowly open the window and let the spider go

he rolls his eyes when he sees you giggling

"now you owe me" he says, taking your hand to go and shower together ;)

𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲

when you call Ponyboy to rescue you he is so freaking nervous but tries to hide it

you saw it crawling near his books

when you tell him where you saw it, he panics even more

you jump on the bed, waiting for your hero to do something

he wants to laugh it off but can't

Pony is too scared to ruin one of his books so he lifts each one carefully trying to spot your enemy

Pony could never kill a spider

so when he finds it he slides it on a piece of paper and goes to throw it outside the window

you give him a peck on his cheek making him blush

he gets sooooo shy but also proud of himself

you go and lie down together on the bed

you know he was scared too but chose not to say anything about it

he is acting all heroic and you secretly love it

(yes he will check if anything happened to his books when you leave)

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲

Johnny hates spiders

but he loves you more (duh)

so when he hears you scream in your room, he rushes back from the kitchen to help you

neither of you can spot it any longer, so you both fall asleep

Johnny is there to comfort you during the night

he tells you that it probably went away

but in the morning when you go to the bathroom you see a giant spider in the corner of the wall

you scream again and run back to your room

this time Johnny takes a deep breath in and takes your slipper

but you tell him that you want it to live

it creates an even bigger challenge because Johnny could never touch it

both of you sit on the bed and talk about your fears

you both decide to do it together

he grabs a piece of paper and you bring a cup

in the end you succeed and let the spider go outside

you are very proud of yourselves for doing something so brave

Johnny is so grateful to have you as a partner

𝐓𝐰𝐨-𝐁𝐢𝐭

he actually loves spiders and insects and you know it

so when you see a spider in the living room of Curtis' house you run to the kitchen to find him

he was eating cake

he didn't care at first but then was intrigued

he started asking you all sorts of questions like how big and what species it was

you roll your eyes and he laughs

but he knows you despise them so he actually lets go of his cake (wow) and runs into the living room

he makes a joke about the spider wanting to watch Mickey with you

you can't help but laugh too (come on its funny)

Two-Bit gently grabs it and even tries to touch it

you're so disgusted that you leave the room

when he comes back he makes a sad face saying that you're too scared of them

then he jokes that if you want to build the future together you must accept his love for spiders

you playfully slap him saying it will never happen

you both chill on the couch while Two-Bit is busily thinking about naming that spider

then he wants to prank one of his friends (Pony ofc) with it but you talk him out of it (thankfully)

you gently kiss his lips, forever grateful to have someone like him by your side whenever you feel scared.

#the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #dallaswinston #ponyboy michael curtis #sodapop curtis #two bit mathews #x reader #dallas x reader #pony x reader #the outsiders oneshot #steve randle #darry x reader #darry curtis x reader #johnny cage #johnny cade x reader #dally x reader #the outsiders 1983 #outsiders fanfic

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damthosefandoms · 1 month ago

Text

my life has changed in oh so many ways

(ao3 link)

Summary:

"You aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else. You don’t have to do this.”

He stares at her. Maybe she is still kinda nice. But nice girls don’t date guys like Bob Sheldon who've picked on him for a decade now because sometimes he talks funny and because he can’t read or write or do anything like people his age are supposed to, on top of everything else that comes with being a greaser.

Guys like Bob Sheldon who do nothing but get drunk and beat on poor kids like Johnny Cade until they aren’t themselves anymore and never will be again.

"It just ain't fair you never got any help!"

“You told me you wanted to be a teacher here when you grow up, Sodapop. But if you want to be a teacher you have to work! What do you think would happen if I came to school everyday and did nothing?”

“I ‘unno.”

“I’d get fired! So if I were you, I’d pick up that pencil and start writing.”

Soda puts his head down on his desk and cries. His teacher just sighs and walks away. She’s giving up on him just like everyone else.

He’s a lost cause.

He just wanted help.

Soda slams the door to their dad’s old truck and tries to control his breathing. He waits for Darry to drive off, to drop Ponyboy at the middle school, where their genius little brother only has one month left of seventh grade. Soda has what feels like centuries left of tenth; but the piece of paper hidden in his sorry excuse for a backpack will change that.

Steve jogs up to him and goes, “You remember it today?”

“I shoved it under my pillow and couldn’t sleep all night ‘cause of it. Yeah, I remembered it.”

“They gonna take it covered in drool?”

Soda swings at him, but Steve just dodges and switches to walk on his other side. They pause in front of the doors, so Soda can get the withdrawal form out.

The main entrance to Will Rogers High School is intimidating, but not as intimidating as what lies beyond the doors. Most kids—greasers and socs alike—don’t give it a second thought as they walk in every morning, but Sodapop Curtis isn’t most kids, and the paper in his hand proves it.

He’s never even driven by this place without wanting to throw up.

“Seriously, man. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I know Darry’ll kill you, but we talked about this, we all got your back and Two-Bit or me are gonna drive ya to school every day and you can just walk to the DX for work, say you’re working just part time every afternoon now, he’ll never—”

“It ain’t Darry I’m worried about. He’ll be mad as the day is long, I don’t give a damn. Dad gave the okay, it ain’t up to Darrel at all. Never was. But Pony’s gonna take it hard and I can’t stand that.”

Soda gives it three classes before he feels sick to his stomach. He’s got the form folded up in the pocket of his dad’s favorite flannel, the same one he’s worn practically every day since the accident. Darry’s always getting on him about giving it a rest and wearing something else—“Everyone knows we’re poor! No need to make them think we don’t wash our damn clothes!”—but to Soda it’s like a security blanket. It’s also one the few shirts he has that don’t make him want to rip his skin off while wearing it. And, you know, his dad always cut the tags off.

He doesn’t even ask his history teacher to let him use the bathroom, just gets up and leaves. He’s told to sit down but he doesn’t because he’s a greaser and nobody expects obedience from him, anyway. He doesn’t look back as he walks out, just reaches into his pocket and takes out the form. It’s the only piece of paper he’s ever put in there without crumpling. He absent-mindedly hums a little tune while he walks—“Help!” by the Beatles, which is one of his favorite songs. It’s a few years old but he heard it on the radio again recently and it’s catchy, not that he could ever admit that to any of his east side buddies—and he unfolds the form. He wants to read through it one more time before he hands it in.

He knows what it says in theory, but there’s so many words on there, and the font is so small that his eyes kind of glaze over, but he keeps his eyes glued to the page while he walks.

Until he collides with something and it flies out of his hands. He looks up and there’s a girl in front of him—ohgodit’sCherry—and he immediately goes to help her up. She looks at him for a second, eyes wide and he thinks maybe her cheeks might be as red as his are her hair, but she ignores his hand, so instead he goes to pick up her books for her.

“Sorry,” Soda mumbles, somehow briefly forgetting that he’s not supposed to be saying stuff like that to soc girls, he’s got a reputation to uphold, but glory, his Mama taught him manners and he’d be damned if he didn’t use them. And deep down he knows Cherry isn’t like the other soc girls because she was nice to him once in first grade and he’s never ever forgotten it.

He nearly shudders at the memory. The words “consonant digraph” are not ones he remembers anymore, all these years later, but way, way back when he was learning them he wanted to cry at the mention of it.

He’s brought back to first grade. It’s sometime in the beginning half of the year, and they’re doing some cut-and-glue activity with partners. He’s been paired with Sherri Valance because he’s always paired with her. They sit next to each other because their class sits in alphabetical order by first name, and they always do partner work with their neighbors.

There’s muffled yelling down the hall and another first-grade teacher pokes her head in and asks for backup, ‘cause one of her problem students is throwing chairs. Their teacher tells them she’ll be right back and heads out. Soda hears somebody who wasn’t in his class last year mutter to their friend, “Dallas, probably.” They see the principal speed-walking down the hall through the doorway, and then everyone loses interest and starts to get to work.

Sherri taps Soda on the shoulder.

“Can you write our names for me?” she says. “I’m going to go get scissors and stuff.”

She gets up and Soda looks at her nametag. He takes a whole minute to decode it. Sherri.

Goddamn digraphs. /sh/ and /ch/ are his worst enemies lately, and she’s got one of them in her name. He knows it’s real sad that he can barely tell which one. He feels butterflies in his stomach as he picks up his pencil. In the best possible handwriting he can muster up—writes her name. He is pretty sure he wrote it correctly, tries to read it aloud, and thinks he’s doing well until one of the kids at the desk pair behind him, Randy Adderson, laughs.

“What’d you just say?”

Soda is starting to understand now why Darry keeps telling him to stay away from the kids with the nice backpacks and brand-name shoes.

“You’re copying off her nametag and you still spelled it wrong?” Randy sneers, and his friend Bob Sheldon looks over too, and starts to grin. Soda’s butterflies turn into rocks.

“I just wrote her name. Sherri.”

But his mouth does that thing again where the word doesn’t sound quite right coming out of his mouth as it did in his head and he can feel his cheeks heating up. That always happens. Bob and Randy and their friends always make fun of him for it, too. He tries to make out the letters he wrote on the paper.

He did write a y instead of an i. And his S is kinda weird-looking, too.

Oh. He didn’t mean to do that. His pencil must’ve moved on its own again like it always does when his brain gets jumbled.

“Cherry, you said Cherry! Her name is Sherri! An’ I think you wrote it too, but who knows, I can’t read that at all!” Bob jeers at him loudly, and the whole class is starting to look over. Chet Baker, the kid who mentioned Dallas earlier, is laughing too, and he whispers something into the ear of his partner. Soon everyone is staring at him, and Soda feels like sinking into the floor. Bob revels in the glory of it all.

“Leave it to dumb ol’ Sodapop to mess it all up!”

The classroom explodes into laughter, like that was the greatest insult of all time and not some lame comment from little kid.

“I like it, actually,” a voice says suddenly and Soda thinks for a second it’s an angel come down to earth. But it’s just Sherri, and she’s handing Soda a glue stick.

“Cherry. I love that. It’s going to be my new nickname.”

She elbows him gently and smiles at him. Her eyes are so green. Soda thinks green eyes are his favorite; Cherry has green eyes, and so do both of his brothers and his dad. That’s almost all of his favorite people on Earth, except for his mom. Her eyes are brown, like his own.

“I really like it, Soda.”

He really likes it too. Soda wishes he could’ve stayed in first grade forever, sometimes, because back then Cherry always stood up for him and now…

Now they’re sixteen and when he goes to hand Cherry her books, she seems to come back to reality. Her face contorts into something angry, or maybe more defensive, as she snaps, “I don’t need your help, grease. Helping me pick up my books like some wannabe-gentleman… don’t you have a girl, anyway?”

He does. Sandy’s somewhere one floor up in English right now reading some Shakespearean tragedy about star-crossed lovers, and he hasn’t told her he’s dropping out yet, either. He loves—really loves—three people left in the world, two of them are his brothers and one, he thinks, is Sandy, and they’re the only ones of the people he really cares about that he hasn’t told about his plan.

Now that his parents are dead, they’re the only people left he’s truly terrified of disappointing. They’re the only people he ever talk to about his problems.

The only people he felt he could ever ask for help. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t anymore.

So why does it bother him so much when he has to ask Cherry Valance to move her foot because she's standing on a paper that might honestly be his lifeline?

He points it out to her and she goes, “Oh,” and picks it up for him. Even brushes the dust off. Soda watches her eyes scan the top of the paper before his face turns even more red and he has to rip it from her hand.

“You didn’t see shit, soc,” he snaps, and maybe it’s mean and out of character for the ever-so-charming Sodapop Curtis that is known to walk these halls, but he’s embarrassed. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut at the face Cherry’s making and his stomach somehow hurts even more.

Not hurts. He’s got butterflies.

He’s in love with Sandy though, and she loves him back, and who gives a damn if he’s been practically ignoring Cherry for a decade now. Who gives a damn if she was the only person from the entire west side of Tulsa to show up at his parents’ funeral. She’s always gone to their church and it was right after the regular Sunday morning service and it doesn’t mean shit. Even if he didn’t have a box under his bed he’s been filling with cash for a ring to marry Sandy one day, Cherry wouldn’t matter, because she’s a soc and he’s a greaser and he might not be in even the average level English class like Sandy is, but Soda asked his mom about it once back when Darry was in sophomore year and was reading it and so he knows how Romeo & Juliet ends.

Soda’s in love with Sandy. She loves him back. He flips the collar of his flannel up because he’s a greaser and he’s gotta look tuff or tough or whatever and keeps walking.

“Sodapop!” Cherry calls, and he shouldn’t turn around but there’s classes going on right now and no one’s watching them.

“What?”

“I just—you aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else. You don’t have to do this.”

He stares at her. Maybe she is still kinda nice. But nice girls don’t date guys like Bob Sheldon who’ve picked on him for a decade now because sometimes he talks funny and because he can’t read or write or do anything like people his age are supposed to, on top of everything else that comes with being a greaser.

Guys like Bob Sheldon who do nothing but get drunk and beat on poor kids like Johnny Cade until they aren’t themselves anymore and never will be again.

“School just ain’t going to be the same without you brightening up everyone’s day, Soda,” Cherry calls after him, but he pushes through the door to the stairwell and pretends her words aren’t eating him alive.

“It just ain’t fair you never got any help!”

He wanted to be a teacher once. So did his mom, once upon a time, that meant college, and she had no money and had a baby at eighteen, so she never even had a shot of working in a daycare. And Soda’s dumb and nobody wants a dumb teacher, so he’s never going to be able to make a difference in the lives of kids like him.

Cherry’s right, he never got any help. That’s why he wanted to be the one to help the next generation. But it’s not going to happen.

She stood up for him once. She used to check his work for him before he handed it in. She would whisper-read when they were supposed to be reading silently so he’d understand the passage. They just can’t talk about it anymore because they grew up.

There aren’t many things he’ll miss about Will Rogers High School, but Cherry Valance is admittedly going to be one of them.

Another thing he won’t miss—the grouchy secretary he’s got to hand in the form to. When he gets to the office she gives him a nasty look that just screams get back to class, hood! or maybe something more along the lines of what’s this idiot doing here? He blow in on the way to stupid town?

…Maybe it’s an oh great, another greasy little troublemaker sent to the office.

Clearly that’s the right one, because the first thing she says is “What’d you do? I ain’t gotten a call up or nothin’.”

“I have this withdrawal form to hand in. I talked to our case worker with social services, she says she confirmed with you guys here that my dad’s signature should still be good enough even though he…?”

She swipes the form out of his hands and glances over it. “I’ll have the principal look at it. Get back to class.”

Soda turns, fully intent on finding his backpack and then walking out a side door somewhere instead, and he’s still going to—but just as he’s walking out someone calls his name. He looks back over his shoulder and the principal has stepped out of his office.

“Mr. Curtis, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and Soda nods, just hoping it’s not to do with that form.

He’s handed an envelope, but it’s not for him.

To the Parent/Guardian of Ponyboy Michael Curtis, it says on the front. Soda’s confused.

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s an intake form for high school.”

“Pony’s in seventh grade. There’s a month left of school.”

“Yes, and his test scores are like nothing we’ve ever seen. He’s going to be coming here next year.”

“He’s in seventh grade. Sir, he never even hands in his homework on time! How’s he jumping ahead to ninth?”

“Mr. Curtis, please, just deliver that letter, would you? Saves me the trouble of having to mail it myself. Glory knows you of all people should understand not wanting to waste money on a stamp.”

The butterflies in Soda’s stomach from earlier turn to rocks and he feels like he’s being weighed down again. “I understand just fine, sir.”

He walks back to class, grabs his backpack and walks all the way home.

That night Darry talks about throwing a party for their little brother and Soda has to grin and bear it, because he’s honestly jealous as all hell. He’ll never admit it, though, because he’s as jealous as he is proud of Ponyboy.

But now he’s never going to be able to tell them he dropped out.

Not when Pony’s immediate reaction to the letter is “I get to go school with Soda next year?”

(He then adds, “and Johnny?” but Soda missed that part because he was too busy wallowing in his own guilt.)

Ponyboy’s going to hate this, he thinks the world and more of Soda and he’ll probably find a way to blame Darry for it. But it’s not Darry’s fault, it isn’t their parents’ fault or anybody’s except Soda’s brain for not working like it should. He thinks if his brothers fight tonight he’ll either lose it and kill them both or never stop crying, so he doesn’t tell them that night.

He doesn’t tell them for a month, not until it’s the last week of school and it’s pouring rain and Darry’s roofing job gets canceled for the day. He comes home early to find Soda sitting on the couch watching cartoons because it’s too early to head out to the DX. The clothes he left the house in that morning for school are drying on the radiator and Soda’s nose is red and Darry has to put the worry he’s going to get sick from walking home in the rain aside.

Ponyboy thinks Darry didn’t yell at Soda for dropping out. Well, he wasn’t home for the fallout.

For the “I know school is hard for you. If you really needed a day off, little buddy, you coulda told me instead of skipping. I’ll go call the school now and say you’re sick.”

And the “Sodapop Patrick, what the hell do they mean you ain’t been enrolled at Will Rogers for a month now?”

Or the horrible silence as Darry has to drive Soda to the DX for work in the pouring rain just so whatever cold he definitely caught that morning won’t get worse before it even starts.

No, Ponyboy won’t find out about any of it until he’s back to school shopping in August and jokingly asks Soda if he’s throwing in the towel this year because he’s not buying anything, and Soda casually tells him he’s not going back to school. That working full time at the DX over the summer wasn’t just a summer thing. It doesn’t go over well.

Darry carpools to work on the first day of Pony’s freshman year, because Soda practically begged him to let him have the truck to bring Pony to school alone that morning. Normally the kid would’ve walked, but Soda knows how big of a day this is, and their mom used to always make sure they didn’t have to walk on the first day, not even to the bus stop when they were in grammar school.

They pull up to the curb by the front doors and Soda can see Steve and Two-Bit and Johnny waiting for Ponyboy. He really appreciates Johnny for that. He never goes anywhere in the school that socs go unless there’s a teacher in the room, after he got jumped at the end of the last school year.

It figures he’d show up for Ponyboy, though. If Johnny isn’t with Dally—who’s not there because he got locked up after taking the blame for busting out a bunch of school windows last year even though Two-Bit did that—he’s with Ponyboy. They’re just close like that.

(Actually, Soda’s pretty sure Dally got himself arrested either because he’s simply self-destructive, or so he wouldn’t give himself a chance to kill anybody for what happened to Johnny, but that’s not really the point.)

Soda turns off the engine of the truck and turns to his brother.

“You ready?”

Ponyboy shrugs. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, a nervous habit the three brothers share. Soda gently pushes his arm down, getting Pony’s hand away from his mouth.

“You’re gonna do great, Pony. You might be young but you’re smarter than everybody in there. You’re the smartest guy I know.”

“You know Darry.”

“Darry’s Darry. He’s smart but he’s like—perfect, yknow? He don’t count. And he an’ I both reckon you’re smarter than he’ll ever be. You’re goin’ places, Pony. Really, truly going places. We both know it. You’re on your way up in the world, you’re gonna go so far.”

“People said that about Darry. Look at him now. He’s just a college dro—” Ponyboy cuts himself off and Soda knows why.

“Show ‘em what for, Pony,” he says. “Show ‘em what us Curtises are really made of, okay? Darry gave up his chance for us, but…if anybody’s gonna make it outta this place it’s gonna be you.”

Because Ponyboy was made great things, and Soda wasn’t, and he might still be jealous but his baby brother is going to kick ass in high school.

Soda hugs him and Pony gets out of the truck, and as he starts to walk away, Soda rolls the window down and he calls out:

“Hey, Pony, if you meet a girl named Cherry, tell her I said hi!”

Pony rolls his eyes and waves. Soda laughs to himself as he drives off.

Ponyboy Curtis, talking to a soc girl. Imagine that.

He’s too busy laughing at his own joke to notice Sandy on the sidewalk as he drives past, heading up the steps into the school practically hand-in-hand with a guy who isn’t him.

He does see a girl with auburn hair walking up to school, frowning, and Bob Sheldon’s got an arm around her.

“Great job, Soda! Mrs. Larkin, look how good Sodapop’s doing! He nearly finished the whole worksheet and didn’t give up once!”

“You aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else.”

Soda turns the radio on. “All You Need Is Love” blasts through the speakers. The truck’s windows are down as he heads for the exit of the school’s parking lot.

One head turns.

But Sandy doesn’t like the Beatles.

#sodapop curtis #cherry valance #cherrycola #outsiders fanfic #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #bob sheldon #greasers #socs #sandy the outsiders #the outsiders #the outsiders musical #the outsiders broadway #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders book #julie writes stuff #my post

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dallasgallant · 2 months ago

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Going insane trying to figure out the phone placement within the Curtis house for two lines in my Steve angst fic. I believe I have an approximate location.

Intially I thought it was on the desk that’s just in the dining room by the TV and the fireplace, another neat detail is all the pens are in a old beer glass, same for the ones on pony’s.

It looks like I was wrong and it’s instead on the wall the one AC unit is. It’s actually still in the main room (?) JUST outside the dining room behind the lazy chair, the desk is separate it’s another shelf combo.

Idk why this is what I’m fixating on. Like they have fucking fish btw that should be what’s tripping me up.

#the outsiders #outsiders #outsiders 1983 #outsiders fanfic #fic rip #steve randle #Curtis family #Curtis gang #Curtis brothers

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too-damn-good-for-growing-old · 2 months ago

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What if the crash that killed the Curtis parents went differently?

What if it happened two years before canon, and Pony volunteered to come along with his mom when she picked up both his dad and the frosting because he felt bad that he’d forgotten?

What if it wasn’t a train wreck, but an accident with another automobile?

And what if twelve-year-old Ponyboy was in the car?

And…what if I wrote this (I am writing it)

#somehow after literally a decade of being in this fandom I have never written fic for it #until now #it’s gonna be sad y’all #the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders musical #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #the outsiders book #the outsiders broadway #the outsiders movie #the outsiders 1983 #outsiders fanfic #the curtis brothers

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szniiaa · 1 year ago

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sodapop curtis sfw n nsfw headcanons

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characters: sodapop curtis show/movie: the outsiders warnings: smut not proofread summary: sodapop curtis sfw n nsfw headcanons

sfw headcanons:

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-hes the most loving boyfriend ever. he will almost never let you talk bad about your looks how you act. nothing. because your perfect in his eyes.

-soda is a huge hugger. he luvs being around you and just being all over you. he luvs kissing you too.

-he kinda hates to admit it but he luvs being treated like a baby by you. getting pampered with kisses and getting scolded by you. he luvs when your angry (will talk apt that later)

-this man is a romantic charming charismatic man + a gentleman. he kisses your hand he always calls you baby, or my love.

-soda is so protective of you its insane. if anything happens to you he wouldn't know what to do with himself. he would fight someone if they said something bad about you or if someone flirted with you.

-speaking of flirty. soda gets jealous super easily. especially when your around the gang. he hates when dally says something that wouldn't be considered flirty but their tone makes it sound that way. "hey! nice top" dally would say obviously staring at your boobs it really pisses him off.

-he would let you wear his work jacket (his blue one) he thinks your super cute in it.

-soda is a big teaser. he teases you whenever your touchy with him or really wanting to give him a kiss. "baby I have to go to work. we can do all this kissy stuff after alright?" soda says giving you 2 more short kisses before leaving and giving you a wink.

-soda luvs your squishy spots on your tummy n thighs or anywhere you have it. he luvs squishing it. he thinks its the cutest thing ever. you'd tell him to stop squeezing your tummy. and he'll always question you why. "why baby its so soft n cute no need to be insecure about anything your the most beautiful girl I've seen."

nsfw headcanons:

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-you know when I was talking about him liking when your angry well let me farther elaborate. something about you being upset at him he can't help but think it so attractive. you'd be talking about how pissed you are and he'll just be leaning on the wall looking you up and down smiling. bye the end of your talking you start to realize how dumb you look n apologize if you in the wrong.

-soda luvs when your on top riding him. he gets a good look at your tits n if your riding him the other way he gets a good look of your ass.

-soda is the type to try not to moan "and try to groan n act all tough" but ends up moaning anyway.

-he luvs when you give him head. the way you look up at him when he's close to climax makes him go insane.

-the amount of times you guys made out or had sex in the gas station is wild. you guys rarely have sex in there but you guys do make-out a lot. you'd come over there for a wholesome visit and walk out with hickeys and your hair a mess.

-soda a praiser in bed he would never degrade you in bed. " keep going just like that, your doing so good." "be a good pretty girl for me, can you do that?" he never calls you any bad names. even when your being a bitch he keeps his cool.

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#sodapop curtis #sodapop fanfic #sodapop fanfic outsiders #outsiders smut #outsiders fanfic #sodapop headcanons #headcanons

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donniesbabygirl28 · 2 years ago

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Dallas with a fem!s/o that completely shuts down when she gets yelled at/when she is upset. (I DO THIS 😭💀)🫀

You and Dallas were having another fight.

You couldn’t even remember what started it.

“How many times do I have to tell you y/n?! I didn’t do it!” Dallas said to you.

Ah yes. Now you remember. A few girls from school started this rumor that dal was cheating on you.

“I know..I just-“

“You just what? You thought I would actually cheat on you?!!!!” His voice boomed around the the house.

You started to relax the muscles in your face, crying with no emotion. Your feet were glued to the floor. You couldn’t even bat an eyelash. Dallas had never yelled at you like that.

“..baby? Are you okay?” Dallas moved closer to you, grabbing your hands, caressing your knuckles with a worried face.

“….I’m sorry for accusing you. It was my fault. I should have known better than to believe those socs.” Your eyes glanced at the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s alright, doll..you didn’t know.” He said with a small smile.

“Are you leaving me now?” Your lip quivered at the thought of losing Dallas. Especially over something so stupid.

His smile fell, turning into a frown.

“Of course not, baby..” he held you close to him, as if that if he let go, you would disappear forever. He couldn’t have that.

“I’m so sorry, dal” you said as more tears came rolling down.

“Hey, man. None of that. Come on babe..your too precious to cry..” He said, wiping away your tears gently.

He pressed a small kiss to your lips.

“…I love you, doll.” he said holding you closer to him.

He didn’t say it I’m a normal way. He said it in the most sincere way he could.

You smiled. “I love you too dal.”

You hugged each other all night, cuddling with your boyfriend.

He is yours just as much as you are his.

And nothing could change that. Ever.

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kai-in-the-korner · 3 months ago

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for those of you who have seen my ‘outsiders/rock of ages’ post…

here’s what ive brainstormed so far

ponyboy as drew

johnny as sherrie

twobit as lonny

darry as dennis

steve as stacee

sodapop as constance

dally as justice

i have yet to assign other characters but this is what i have so far

#the outsiders #the outsiders musical #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #johnnyboy #twobit mathews #dally winston #dallas winston #rock of ages musical #stacee jaxx #constance sack #sherrie christian #drew boley #musicals #outsiders fanfic

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foottoe101001 · 3 months ago

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Darry and Paul in the locker rooms getting ready to play foot ball

@crow2222

#the outsiders #the outsiders darry #the outsiders ponyboy #darry curtis #ponyboy michael curtis #darry x paul #football #the outsiders musical #outsiders oc #the outsiders 1983 #outsiders fanfic #the outsiders fanfiction #sodapop the outsiders #the outsiders dally

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anifever · 1 month ago

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Cherry Valance Dating HC’s ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sherri “Cherry” Valance x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : Lil’ blurbs/hc’s about dating the prettiest girl in Tulsa

A/N : 1. This has been in the drafts for months 2. This is probably OOC but I love her. I don’t think this is a tw but the relationship is hidden due to homophobia blah blah

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🍒 ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ Constantly going shopping together

୨ Would be EXTREMELY nervous meeting your family even if she’s just introducing herself as a ‘close friend’

୨ Does not hesitate to tell ppl off if they’re picking on you

୨ Buying and wearing matching jewelry

୨ Trying to hold back laughs when guys hit on either of you in front of each other

୨ Countless subtle looks

୨ You probably have a secret code to say “I love you,” a hand motion or phrase

୨ I feel like she’d love doing/playing with your hair, vice versa

୨ Like she’d always be trying to do the same curls and style she does on herself if you have the same hair texture

୨ Going along with what I said about matching jewelry, also matching outfits; color coordinated or something

୨ Wearing a light pink pink cardigan with a pale yellow skirt then her doing the opposite omg I’m gnawing on the bars of my enclosure

୨ Surprisingly getting into really weird conversation topics

୨ On the phone until 3 in the morning talking about “what would you do if you woke up in the middle of a corn field”

୨ Giggling and kicking your feet while watching her handle/take care of kids

୨ Baby fever goes through the roof

୨ A bunch of movie dates which probably include some Dallas jumpscares

୨ You always watch her at cheer practice, but if you’re also a cheerleader, even better

୨ Related- you fawn over her in the uniform.

୨ Also somewhat related, before you started dating she definitely had a ‘but I’m a cheerleader!’ moment

୨ You guys probably win the “best best friends category” in the yearbook… yeah…

୨ Yes, she can stand up for herself, but she’s also a sweetheart and pretty sensitive

୨ Compliment her 💔 please 💔

୨ She’d get so red and start smiling like crazy

୨ She’s always randomly buying you stuff; earrings, hair clips, vinyls, underwear sets, etc get plopped into your lap out of nowhere

୨ Overall, she’s SO caring and I can’t stress this enough

୨ She just is in general but it’d be so intensified with you

#cherry valance #cherry valance x reader #sherri valance #sherri valance x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders fanfiction #outsiders #outsiders fanfic #the outsiders fanfic #cherry valance imagine #sherri valance imagine #wlw #the outsiders imagine

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thewulf · 7 months ago

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A Safe Place || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - Can you do a Dally or Darry x female reader where reader is having a really difficult time at home (mom and dad are kinda like Johnny's parents and beat up physically and mentally on reader?)... Read Rest Here

A/N: As long as I live I will forever write The Outsiders. Such a unique group to write. This one is tough but I really love it!

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader (Johnny Cade Sister)

Word Count: 3.3k +

TW: ABUSE, talks of abuse, hitting, bruises, cuts, blood, threats of violence, general Outsiders warnings

As you stumbled through the door of the Curtis household the entire greaser gang turned to look at you. Their expressions shifting from surprise to concern in an instant. Dally was the first to react, his eyes widening in realization as he took in the extent of your injuries.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Dally's voice was gruff but there was an underlying edge of worry as he approached you. His movements were surprisingly gentle as he took in your battered appearance. His usually stern expression softened which revealed a glimpse of the concern that lurked beneath his tough exterior.

You could feel the weight of their stares. Their unspoken questions hanging heavy in the air. It was clear that they were shocked by the state you were in, and the realization only made you feel more vulnerable. Because for as bad as you felt you just knew you looked 10 times worse. It wasn’t the first time he’d laid hands on you, but it was the first time he didn’t seem to want to stop.

"I-I... I had a run-in with my old man," you managed to choke out. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you fought to hold back the tears brimming at the edge of your eyes. You’d done so good escaping it was suddenly catching up to you what you had just gone through. The words tasted bitter on your tongue. A painful reminder of the nightmare you couldn't escape.

Steve's jaw clenched tight with anger as he took in your bruised and bloodied face, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "That bastard," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with rage. "He’s gonna pay for this, I swear."

Dally's expression darkened at your words. His features contorted with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "I'll kill him," he growled, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought to contain the rage simmering just beneath the surface. His words hung heavy in the air as it was a promise of retribution that sent a shiver down your spine. The scary part was that you knew he would kill him given the chance. It was one thing with Johnny… but when he saw you so battered he found a rage not even he knew he had.

Instinctively you flinched at his declaration. The raw intensity in his voice triggering a flood of memories you wished you could forget. You had already endured so much, the wounds—both physical and emotional—still fresh and raw. The thought of more violence only served to deepen the pit of dread that churned in your stomach. Sure, you grew up with the greasers but it never made the violence and threats of it any easier.

As if sensing your reaction Dally's eyes softened with remorse. A pang of guilt flickering across his features. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering uncertainly over your shoulder before finally making the gentlest contact. He was afraid of the bruises underneath your clothes, the ones he couldn’t see. "Hey," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his earlier words. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For all his tough exterior there was a vulnerability in Dally that few ever got to see. A glimpse of the boy beneath the cocky attitude that he showed all too often. As you looked into his eyes you saw not just the anger and the pain, but also the deep-seated compassion that he tried so hard to conceal. His presence was a balm to your battered soul. A reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.

Dally's sharp gaze hardened as he turned to the group just staring at the scene unfolding before them. "Get the hell out of here if you ain’t gonna be useful," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. "Give us some space guys." The rest of the gang exchanged uneasy glances before nodding in agreement, understanding the need for solitude in such a vulnerable moment. With one last look of concern, they filed out of the room leaving you and Dally in a cocoon of quiet solidarity.

As Soda made to leave with them Dally stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. "Soda, wait," he said, his voice softer now, filled with urgency. "Get the first aid kit and a warm towel. We need to clean her up." Soda nodded in understanding, a determined look crossing his features as he hurried off to retrieve the supplies.

As Soda hurried off to retrieve the supplies, Dally turned his attention back to you, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Hang in there, sweetheart," he said softly. His voice laced with reassurance as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "We'll get you patched up real quick."

You managed a weak smile. So grateful for his comforting words amidst the raging emotions swirling inside you. Despite the pain and the fear that still lingered there was a sense of relief knowing that you were in capable hands. You were being taken care of the boy who cared deeply for your well-being.

A knowing smile just ghosted over Soda's lips as he returned with the first aid kit and a warm towel. He was silently acknowledging the unspoken bond between you and Dally. He knew how much Dally had loved you for so long. And seeing the two of you together now filled him with a bittersweet sense of pride. He’d never seen Dallas so gentle.

With practiced efficiency, Dally and Soda set to work cleaning and dressing your wounds. Their movements gentle yet purposeful as they tended to each cut and bruise with care. Dally's hands were surprisingly gentle as he worked. A stark contrast to the roughness you had come to expect from him. However, even he wasn’t perfect. There was a moment when Dally accidentally pressed a little too hard on one of your bruises causing you to let out an involuntary yelp of pain. Instantly his expression shifted. A look of sadness crossing his features as he realized his mistake.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice filled with genuine remorse as he gently pulled back, his hands hovering uncertainly over your injured skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be more careful, I promise."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes. It was layered with a depth of emotion you hadn't seen from him before. A stark reminder that beneath his tough exterior there was that vulnerability he tried so hard to conceal. You saw not just the pain and the regret in his eyes but also the profound sense of care and affection that he held for you.

"It's okay, Dally, really" you reassured him, your voice soft as you reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I know you didn't mean it. I’m so lucky to have you."

His gaze softened at your words. A small flicker of gratitude passing between you as you shared a moment of understanding. Despite the rough edges and the scars that marked his soul there was a gentleness to Dally that few ever got to see. A side of him that he reserved for those he held closest to his heart. A side that only seemed reserved for you.

With a nod of appreciation Dally resumed his careful ministrations. His touch lighter and more cautious than before. And as he worked to tend to your wounds with a renewed focus, you couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for the boy who had always been there for you. Always, no questions asked.

As Dally apologized profusely and you reassured him, Soda noticed the exchange between you two. Sensing the depth of emotion in the room he took a step back giving you and Dally a moment of privacy. There was that knowing look in Soda's eyes, an acknowledgment of the connection between you and Dally. With a subtle nod Soda retreated to give you both some space. His intuition telling him that this was a moment that needed to be shared between just the two of you. As he busied himself with tidying up the first aid supplies before exiting the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth fill his chest for the two of you.

Once Dally finished tending to your wounds with careful precision a flood of emotions washed over you. Threatening to overwhelm your fragile composure. The physical pain had subsided only to be replaced now by a tidal wave of raw emotion that surged through your veins like a raging river. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to contain the torrent of feelings that threatened to consume you. It wasn't just the pain of your injuries that brought you to tears, but the weight of everything you had endured, the fear, the loneliness, the relentless cycle of abuse that had plagued your life for so long.

You cried for your little brother, lost and alone in a world that had turned its back on him. Your Johnny. You cried for the father who had betrayed your trust as his fists rained down upon you with a cruelty that knew no bounds. But most of all you cried for Dally, for his unexpected gentleness and the overwhelming sense of safety and comfort that he had provided in your darkest hour.

As you sat with Dally in the quiet intimacy of the room you felt a sense of release wash over you. A cathartic release of pent-up emotion that had been building inside you for far too long. And as the tears flowed freely down your cheeks you knew that you were not alone. That you were loved and cherished by the one person who had always been there for you, offering his unwavering support and understanding in the face of adversity.

As your tears flowed Dally's heart ached with a depth of emotion he had never allowed himself to fully acknowledge before. Without hesitation, he shifted, pulling you fully onto his lap, cradling you against his chest with a tenderness that was so different than his tough exterior. His arms wrapped around you protectively creating a safety that enveloped you both.

He rubbed soothing circles on your back. His touch a comforting reassurance of his unwavering support. In the quietness of the moment, he whispered words of comfort and encouragement. His voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room.

Feeling your sobs intensify he tightened his embrace. His hold on you was firm yet gentle as if trying to absorb some of the pain that wracked your body and soul. With each shuddering breath you took he squeezed you tighter. His touch was a silent reassurance that he was there for you. He would never let you face your demons alone.

"You're safe now, sweetheart," he murmured. His breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Let it out. I'm here for you."

His words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that you were not alone in your pain. With each gentle stroke of his hand against your back, he offered you solace and understanding, his touch a silent promise of his unwavering support.

"It's okay to cry," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room. "I've got you. I won't let anyone hurt you again, I swear it."

His heart broke for you, for the girl he cared for more deeply than he dared to admit. In that moment, as he held you close, he wished he could take away all the pain and suffering you had endured, to shield you from the cruelties of the world with nothing more than his love.

As time passed your sobs gradually subsided leaving behind a lingering sense of emptiness and exhaustion. In the quiet aftermath of your tears, you took a shaky breath. Your chest still tight with emotion. Dally held you close.

Feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear you found solace in the warmth of his embrace. With a heavy sigh you finally found the strength to speak. Your voice trembling with the weight of the words you had kept buried deep within your heart.

"I miss him," you spoke. Your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke of your little brother, lost and alone in a world that had turned its back on him. "I miss Johnny so much it hurts."

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over as you thought of your brother who had been forced to run away. His pure innocence stolen by the cruelty of the world.

"I miss the way things used to be," you continued. Your voice filled with longing as you spoke of a time before your father's descent into darkness, before the alcohol and the violence tore your family apart. "I miss when my dad wasn't a drunk, when he was still my dad, you know?"

Your words hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the innocence you had lost, of the life that seemed so distant and foreign now. In the safety of Dally's embrace, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of the past, to grieve for the family that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control.

As you spoke of missing Johnny, Dally's embrace tightened. His arms offering you a sense of strength and stability amidst the chaos of your emotions. His voice was gentle as he responded. His words a quiet reassurance in the face of your pain.

"I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "We all miss him. But you know Johnny, he's resourceful as hell. And with Pony by his side? Those two can handle anything."

There was a quiet conviction in Dally's voice. It was a steadfast belief in Johnny's resilience that offered you a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Despite the uncertainty of his fate, you found comfort in Dally's unwavering confidence. He was a reminder that you were not alone in your worries for your brother.

"And your dad..." Dally trailed off, his voice heavy with sympathy as he spoke of the man who had once been your protector, now reduced to a shadow of his former self. "He's not the man you remember, I know. But that ain't your fault, darlin'. None of this is."

His words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that you were not to blame for the sins of your father, that you deserved love and happiness just as much as anyone else. In the safety of his embrace, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of the past, to grieve for the family that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control.

But even as the tears continued to fall, you knew that you were not alone. That Dally was there for you and always ready to offer his unwavering support and understanding in the face of your pain. As you clung to each other in the quiet darkness you found solace in the simple act of being together.

As your emotions opened you realized your love for him wasn't triggered by a simple moment. But rather by a complex series of events that had been building up over time. It was the culmination of countless conversations, shared moments, and lingering glances that had slowly but surely chipped away at the walls around your heart.

It started with the little things. Like the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you laugh or the way he would brush a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that took your breath away. It was the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning, the whispered confessions and shared secrets that bound you together in ways you couldn't explain. But it was also the bigger moments. The ones that left you reeling with emotion and uncertainty. There was a time you called, and he showed up at your door in the middle of the night. No questions he was there as his face drawn and tired, and you knew without a doubt that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

As you looked into his eyes and saw the depth of his feelings reflected back at you, something shifted inside you. It was as if all the pieces fell into place like a puzzle finally coming together after years of searching. And in that moment, you knew. You knew that you couldn't keep it to yourself any longer, that you had to tell him how you felt, no matter the consequences.

So, you took a deep breath. Steeling yourself for what was to come, and you let the words spill from your lips in a rush of emotion. It was messy and imperfect, but it was real. It was true. And it was exactly what you needed to say.

"I... Dally, I just... I don't even know where to start," you began. Your voice trembling with emotion as you struggled to find the right words. "But I can't keep it in any longer. I think... no, I know I... I love you. Like, really love you."

Your admission hung heavy in the air, a confession so raw and honest that it left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. But as you looked into Dally's eyes, filled with a mixture of surprise and tenderness, you knew that you had made the right decision to speak your truth.

"I know it sounds crazy," you continued, your words tumbling out in a rush. "But it's true. You've always been there for me, through thick and thin. And it's not just because you're always there to clean up my messes or protect me from the world, although you do a damn good job of that. It's because... because I genuinely care about you, Dallas Winston. I care about you more than I ever thought possible. And it scares me sometimes, how much I care."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you bared your soul to him, laying your feelings bare for the world to see. But as you spoke, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you had finally spoken the words that had been weighing on your heart for so long.

"And I know it's a lot to take in," you concluded, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I had to tell you. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer."

For a moment, the air felt thick with anticipation. The intensity of your confession hanging between you like a tangible thing. And then as if a switch had been flipped, the hardness in Dally's eyes melted away. Replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from deep within him.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth gradually blossoming into a grin that lit up his entire face. It was a grin like you'd never seen before. A grin that reached all the way to his eyes filling them with a light you hadn't realized was missing.

His fingers brushed gently against your tear-stained cheeks. His touch tender and affectionate as he cupped your face in his hands. There was a sense of wonder in his expression, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening, as if he had never dared to hope for this moment.

"Damn, sweetheart," he breathed. His voice tinged with awe. "I never knew you had it in you. Talking like that. But I'm glad you did. Because, hell, I love you too. I always have."

His words sent a rush of warmth through you. A feeling of elation that bubbled up from deep within your chest. And as you looked into his eyes, shining with a happiness you had never seen before, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, something real and true and utterly perfect.

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only-lonely-star · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! I love your works and was wondering if you could make headcannons with the gang (Separately) with an s/o that likes to be the big spoon? Thanks so much!! <3

⁠♡ Curtis Gang x bigspoon!reader (HCs) ⁠♡

Warnings - None! This is pure fluff 🤗

Author’s Note - Hi, I’m so glad you like my writings!! This was such a sweet idea, thank you so much for requesting it. I kept falling asleep as I wrote these because it’s such a sweet and relaxing thing to imagine right before bed 😭. As always… enjoy, my lovesss! 🧸💤

. • . * ☾ . • . * ☾ . • . * ☾ . • . * ☾ . • .

Ponyboy

Ponyboy doesn’t mind it ALL. This boy is so open to anything with you, including taking on the more ‘submissive role’.

He’s probably used to it since Soda tends to be the bigger spoon in bed.

I’d imagine him having a little ‘oh shit’ moment the first time you initiated it. He’s new to physical touch in a romantic way since he’s only fourteen.

As time went on and you made it clear you preferred to be the big spoon he just went with it.

Little naps with him are so comforting and just easy to do. He’ll just hop in bed and wait for you behind him.

Pony loves the feeling of being secure in someone’s arms (much like hugging) because it brings him a sense of comfort. He’d rather receive it than give it.

Johnny

He loves being the little spoon without you even telling him you’d like to try being the bigger spoon.

Similar to Ponyboy, he likes to feel comforted and wanted by his loved ones. Having your arms dangle around him is literally the best way to show it without overwhelming him with an entire ramble on how you love him.

He can physically feel his heart melt when your head is resting like RIGHT in the crook of his neck. That’s hands down his favorite part of being the little spoon.

Since he’s the one being embraced, it’s one of the few times he doesn’t have to bury himself in his denim jacket and curl up into a ball for warmth. He can just depend on you for that.

He’ll fall asleep instantly. The fact that you’re offering your vulnerability to be with him is enough to get him straight to sleep.

Dallas

He’d try to fight it as best as he could. I couldn’t see him wanting to be the little spoon, but for your sake he’d give it a shot.

We all know Dally loves it deep down. Affection is affection. All that matters is that it’s from you.

He doesn’t let you have the big spoon EVERY TIME, but every now and then he’ll be too tired to argue over it, or feel that he needs a bit of love too. “You know what, just go for it.”

Dallas would always pat the side of his thigh and wait for your leg to drape over his. He’d hold onto your leg sort of like in a position for a piggy back ride (I really hope that makes sense 😭).

He’s a little iffy about it because then he can’t kiss you anywhere near the crook of your neck, shoulders, or lull himself to sleep with the scent of your hair.

You just know the switch is necessary. You have to be the big spoon to be able to pamper him every once in a while.

He would sort of lay there on his side and then shift around in his sleep to lay on his chest. You’re just kinda forced to hold onto his side from then on out.

Sodapop

HE LOVES IT. HE LOVES BEING THE LITTLE SPOON.

Soda truly doesn’t mind being the big spoon or little spoon. Either way is fine. As long as he can have your body against his, that’s all that matters.

He takes your relaxation cuddles/naps very seriously. Very. Seriously. He’d squish your pillows and beat them until they’re fluffed up nice and perfect for you. He’ll find some blanket and toss it over your bodies as he waits for you to snuggle in behind him.

He can’t stop turning his head around because all he wants to do is look you in the eye and talk until he falls asleep. “Soda, you have to put your head down. You can’t fall asleep with it tilted allll the way back here.” while you gently shove it back down.

He feels babied (in the best way possible) when he’s the little spoon. He feels like a kid again being snuggled close to by his mother which brings back a warm feeling that’s so hard to capture.

Steve

He’ll tell everyone he’s the big spoon because he likes to feel dominant and in charge. He secretly doesn’t even mind being the little spoon, but nobody will ever know that unless you tell them.

(Similar to what I said for Dally) He would so wait for you to drape your arm over him so that he could hold your hand. He’d place his entire forearm on yours and give it a small squeeze once he found that sweet spot and got comfortable.

He lives for those small kisses on his shoulders. It’s such a small detail but it definitely doesn’t go unnoticed. Best believe he’s GRINNING into that pillow.

HELP 😭 I feel like he would be one of those people who squirm when people breathe down his neck.

This is one of the few times he can just fully let himself relax. He doesn’t have to do the embracing, he just lays there and allows you to give him the attention and love he’s been craving.

He’s so touch deprived that he brings himself to enjoy being the little spoon even though he’d much rather be sprawled out on top of you.

Darrel

Like younger brother, like older brother. If Ponyboy had an ‘oh shit’ moment, Darry definitely did too. His wasn’t from inexperience, it was from uncertainty.

I feel like since he’s just so big, tall, and muscular, he doesn’t want to be the little spoon like EVER. He wouldn’t try to fight it like Dallas, but he’d be hesitant for sure. “I feel like I should be holding on to you…” *big sheepish grin*.

First time he would definitely feel panicked, but I can see him easing into it.

I feel like he’s so fun to spoon from behind because he’s just so big. It’s like he’s one of those 6 foot teddy bears you can get at Walmart and snuggle into 😭

He finds it sweet how you genuinely enjoy clinging onto him, and how you don’t think he’s like “too big” or “masculine” to take on the little spoon role.

Two-Bit

Being the little spoon brings him way back to his childhood. The warm feeling of your body against his is almost nostalgic to him because wayyyy back when he was maybe 4 or 5 his mom would hold him like this.

This is honestly one of the few ways to get him to shut up. You just hold him from behind and nuzzle your head against his back and he’s knocked out cold.

His favorite spot is right in between his shoulder blades. That little spot between his muscles is always so tense. A little kiss there and boom - he’s relaxed.

Honestly, he seems like the type of guy to love physical affection from his partner (in private settings), so I imagine him getting all excited when he feels your arms snake around him. It’s especially nice after a hard day where he’s just so stressed and needs your comfort.

He definitely likes being the little spoon, although obviously wouldn’t mind being the big spoon. He probably likes switching from time to time since being the big spoon is seen as being masculine and dominant. (Let’s be honest, what teenage greaser wouldn’t want to feel dominant and masculine? 😭)

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR READING :)

- Sophia 🫶🏼

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damthosefandoms · 2 months ago

Text

Jumbled

(ao3 link)

Summary:

RIP Sodapop Curtis, you would’ve loved having an IEP/504 Plan.

(AKA, Soda struggles in school his whole life, and doesn’t understand why, because it’s the 1950s and 60s and getting a diagnosis for a learning disability isn’t exactly on the table. Neither is the scaffolding and support he really needs.)

Sodapop Curtis was the type of kid who sat at the kitchen table for hours on end crying over math homework until his dad got home from work and struggled to explain it to him. All that effort, and then he’d always inevitably lose it somewhere between the kitchen table that night and his teacher’s hand the next morning and all that effort would be for nothing.

Soda was five years old when he started kindergarten, at the tail-end of the summer of ‘56. He remembers his mom comforting him the night before, when he cried because he was going to miss Ponyboy who wasn’t old enough for school yet and because Darry was going into fourth grade and would be on the other side of the school all day, and Soda would never get to see him. He remembers pouting because Keith Mathews, his and his brothers’ collective best friend from down the street was going into first grade after promising Soda last year that he’d get in a lot of trouble so he could stay and do kindergarten with him (he lied).

And then Soda was just plain miserable, sitting there on the bus sandwiched between Keith and a boy a little younger than Sodapop named Johnny Cade (who lives two doors down from the Mathews’ house and Soda never sees because his parents are mean and keep him inside all day), because Darry decided he was “too cool” to sit with his horse-crazy kid brother in favor of the big kids whose mommies don’t make them wash their hair when it’s dirty and greasy and walk around with those little black switch-combs and pretend they’re the coolest kids on planet earth, ‘cause one day those combs will swap out for blades and they will be.

Probably because they are, but Sodapop doesn’t know that yet—right now he doesn’t really know or care about grease or what side of town he lives on. He is six years old and the only thing on Soda’s radar right now is that Mama promised they’d save up for him to go to horseback riding camp next summer, and that’s his biggest dream. He wants to be a rodeo legend or win the Kentucky Derby or something. He hasn’t quite decided yet. He figures he has time to parse out the specifics—he just wants to ride a horse.

They get to school, and after a particularly pushy reminder that Mama told him at the bus stop this morning to make sure Soda gets to his classroom alright, Darry points his little brother toward the Kindergarten wing. Soda takes Johnny Cade’s hand in his because he found out on the bus that Johnny is going to have the same teacher as him, and they push through the hallway of their elementary school to find Mrs. Moran’s Room Four.

Soda very quickly learns that not every kid goes into kindergarten equally. Johnny is the smallest and the youngest kid in their grade, and Soda’s the second-youngest and it only takes a few weeks for Soda to think to himself that maybe that’s why he can’t read yet. He’ll be six soon, and that’s how old Evie is. Most of the kids who live on his side of town started kindergarten when they were six, he realizes. She sits next to Soda and she’s a good reader, but she’s one of the oldest kids in their grade and so of course she’s smarter than him. Then again, Sherri Valance, who is also in his class, isn’t going to be six until next spring—kind of like Johnny, and according to the birthday chart on the wall—he asked Mrs. Moran to read it to him one day when he couldn’t sleep during nap time and she very begrudgingly agreed, so he memorized everyone’s birthdays and how old they’d be turning because why not, right?—but Sodapop finds out that she went to preschool.

He didn’t go to preschool. He doesn’t know anyone who did. He remembers Mama talking to Dad about preschool for Ponyboy this year, but Dad said something about “expensive” and Soda stopped listening ‘cause they always get sad or angry when that word comes up.

Sherri Valance can read and she’s got pretty red hair and a backpack that’s not even a hand-me-down, and she went to preschool. So did all her friends in Room Three. Soda doesn’t know anybody in Room Three but he knows that the kids his friends know in there didn’t go to preschool. Timmy Shepard was in Room Three last year with Keith. He didn’t go to preschool either; heck, neither did Keith. But they can both read now, and they went to first grade, so Sodapop figures he didn’t miss out on too much.

Until it’s the end of the year and he still can’t read. Well, you don’t need to read to go to horse camp. Soda doesn’t nap a single time that year, either. He spends his precious kindergarten naptime not-reading the book Mrs. Moran gives him to keep him busy and picking at his cot when she snaps at him to be quiet. Mrs. Moran decided the day she read his first name off the attendance sheet that she didn’t like him, and Sodapop Curtis did not like her either.

First grade is so much better and yet so, so much worse.

Soda has a very hard time on his first day, because he misses his mom, and his dad, and Ponyboy, who begged to go to school too this year but he’s still too little at only four years old and Mama’s doing her best to get him reading now. Darry is in fifth grade and seems even farther away, and Soda doesn't have recess with Keith and Tim’s grade this year, and Johnny’s in Room Seven making new friends. Evie’s in Room Eight, and Soda’s trapped alone in Room Nine. Sherri’s still in his class. On the third day of school, Soda decides her hair reminds him of cherries. She laughs, and it sticks.

The best and brightest part of first grade is his teachers. He was put in Mrs. Larkin’s room, and she’s amazing; but when he gets there on the first day, there are two teachers in the room. Miss Luft, it’s explained, is a student teacher, which means she’s learning about first grade just like they are. She’s learning how to teach and they’re learning how to learn.

Sodapop still doesn’t even know the alphabet. He doesn’t know his sounds and he can’t keep his letters straight. Mrs. Larkin has him sit with Miss Luft when he tries to write a small moment story. She draws lines in marker on his paper for him to write each word on. Every line she has to make longer than the last because he can barely fit two letters on it, and he’s pretty sure she can’t read what he wrote any more than he can.

But Miss Luft always calls him capable. She has to explain to Sodapop once a week what that word means. He does his best to remember, but he has a lot of things to remember and it gets lost in the jumble somewhere.

He hears Mrs. Larkin and Miss Luft talking, sometimes. They hide their words behind stacks of paper and turned heads but he can hear them anyway.

Reversals. Attention span. Off the wall.

“And he’s low,” he hears Mrs. Larkin say one morning. “Mrs. Bolan’s got one that low too, but at least hers is quiet.”

He has no clue what any of it means. It’s all teacher talk, he isn’t supposed to get it, and he knows they aren’t trying to hurt his feelings, but hearing it makes him feel bad anyway because they don’t talk about other kids like they do him. They don’t get those sad looks on their faces about other kids, either.

“Does your brain get jumbled sometimes, Soda?” Miss Luft asks him one day when he’s sitting at his desk, eyes red and puffy from crying because he wasn’t allowed to go to gym class unless he finished his spelling worksheet. But he can’t. He’s been sitting here for forty-five minutes, ever since they got back from recess, and he can’t. Do. It. He tries to write his letters how his teachers have shown him but they just won’t appear in the place he wanted them to, like his pencil won’t obey him when he writes. He tries to start at the top line and somehow his pencil puts itself at the bottom.

He tries to write the letters anyway, but they don’t look like he thinks they’re supposed to, and he doesn’t even know what that means because every time he looks at a b or d, or m or n or h, or—god forbid someone tells him to write the letter k. It just looks like a stick.

His numbers are just as bad. Someone’s always reminding him to put the one before the seven instead of the other way around, but he doesn’t remember writing seventy-one, he can’t even count that high!

“Jumbled?” He says in a shaky voice, still trying to calm down.

“Like mixed up. Like it’s hard to think ‘cause you got too much going on in there?” She taps his forehead and he half-heartedly giggles.

“Yeah, it gets real jumbled. All the time,” Soda says.

“I feel like that sometimes too,” Miss Luft says, and she sighs. “Like I can’t think at all some days. Like my brain shuts off without me tellin’ it to because there’s too much goin’ on and I can’t focus, and just answering one question gets overwhelming. It’s too much. But it’ll be okay, Soda, I know you got it in you. I believe in you, you hear? If I could do it, so can you.”

She doesn’t say much else, but Sodapop has never felt more seen. He cries and clings to her on her last day at their school, hating that she only got to stay for ten weeks. Mrs. Larkin is amazing and he loves being in her class, but the year just drags on and on, and towards the end of the year Soda can’t decide if school is getting harder or he’s getting dumber. Maybe it’s both.

He gets to go to horseback riding camp that summer, and he meets a kid named Dallas who he thinks was in Room Seven with Johnny. Dallas is mean. Soda finds out he’s a whole year older than him, which confuses him because Dallas is in his same grade at school.

“An’ how come I never seen you at recess or nothin’?” Soda says one day at lunch. He’s got a bologna sandwich, because his mom swears by cold cuts. Dally stole an apple out of their counselor’s lunch and doesn’t seem to have anything to eat otherwise.

“They don’t let me out much,” Dallas says. “S’what happens when you spend all your time in the principal’s office.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Just feels good to get in trouble sometimes.”

Soda doesn’t get him, but he likes horses, and so they become friends anyway. He and Dally start getting into trouble together, and Soda kind of starts to feel like he belongs somewhere. It takes his mind off the upcoming school year, which is great, because whenever he thinks about school, he gets butterflies in his stomach.

Dallas is in Room Twelve with Johnny when they get to second grade. Usually Soda keeps track of what classes all his friends end up in, but this year, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because second grade changes everything.

Mrs. Foster is ancient. She taught Soda’s mom once upon a time, and she had Darry in her class a few years earlier. Soda thought she’d be a great teacher because Darry loved her, but Soda can’t bring himself to even pretend to like her. She asks him what his parents were on when they named him.

“On what?”

Mrs. Foster just rolls her eyes and tells him to take a seat in the back where he clearly belongs. She lets him know that she’ll be calling him by his middle name this year. At least “Patrick” is “dignified.” Whatever that means.

Later, Soda can’t keep his words from erupting out of his mouth like a volcano during morning meeting, and she sends him back to his seat with a glare.

Five minutes later Steve Randle gets sent back to his seat for shouting out, too. He sits next to Soda in the back. He’s hiding a little red toy car in his desk and they play together. Mrs. Foster doesn’t seem to notice or care. She doesn’t call on Soda a single time that year, even when he does know the answer.

She also doesn’t like that Sodapop writes with his left hand. By the time he gets to third grade, he flinches and corrects himself every time he goes to pick up his pencil. He hopes this’ll solve the problem, but it never does.

Soda struggles the whole year. Steve doesn’t, and when Soda asks when his birthday is—he always needs to know, he needs to be able to sing happy birthday to all of his friends—Steve tells him he was born in April, the same year as Soda. Soda tells him how he can’t find a single pattern proving why he’s dumb, ‘cause age doesn’t seem to matter. Sherri aka Cherry is younger than him but smarter. She went to preschool. Johnny’s younger too, but he didn’t. Steve’s older and smarter but he tells Soda that he didn’t do preschool either.

“I did kindergarten twice, though,” Steve tells him. “Well, the first couple weeks anyway. Mom and Dad wanted me to start school when I was five but then I had to not do the whole year ‘cause my mom got sick and we were too busy and then she died so I stayed home with Dad. I did kindergarten the next year when I was six. Now I got friends in third grade and in second grade.”

They agree that Soda’s going to be Steve’s best second-grade friend. They trade that little red car back and forth and Soda still can’t read very well but he’s better at it now—Mrs. Larkin worked extra hard with him after Miss Luft left to make sure he knew his letters and sounds.

Mrs. Foster doesn’t seem to care, because she pretends he doesn’t exist. It’s a miracle Sodapop gets to third grade.

But it doesn’t matter. School doesn’t matter. Over time Soda just starts to remind himself that he has Steve, and Steve is smart, he’ll help him. Soda will get through this. Sure, after third grade Johnny gets held back, and it’s only a matter of time until Sodapop has to repeat a grade too, but… but he’ll be okay. He will. Someday a switch will go off and his brain will work right and he’ll be able to do it. He hasn’t failed yet, that has to mean something, right?

He hasn’t failed yet but no one has noticed he struggles, not his teachers, not his friends, no one. Maybe Miss Luft, but he’ll never see her again. He hopes she still thinks he’s capable. He had written in the book their class made for her that his favorite thing about her was that she believed in him.

As he gets older, he wonders if she even remembers his name.

But then again, he spends every weeknight crying at the kitchen table, physically unable to get past the first question on his homework sheets. In fourth grade Mama starts clearing everything off the table to help him focus, but he picks at the crumbs left behind from last night’s dinner, peels up the dried finger-paint Pony splattered everywhere, sits and rocks back and forth with each tick of the clock.

And every day after about an hour of making up little songs and fiddling on his paper until it’s spotted with holes, he starts crying, because he can’t bring himself to do his homework. And then Pony’s in school, finishing his homework before him, and Pony is just as much of a daydreamer, so that kind of stings. Darry has seven different classes to do homework for, on top of football practice, but he gets all his work done before Soda’s even started. His mom tries to help but it makes him cry even harder, ‘cause she doesn’t get it, it’s not about the homework it’s about his brain. It’s about Soda’s brain not working like everyone thinks it should.

It’s about his big, dumb, broken brain.

Johnny can’t read either, but he can focus, he can control his emotions and not cry or scream or stomp his feet at every little sound or touch, or overreact to things that aren’t a big deal at all, he doesn’t start throwing throngs off his desk when he’s mad, and he always has a reason why he does things. Steve can’t control his mouth or pay attention, but he can read and always turns in his homework on time. Keith never does his homework ever but he’s practically a genius compared to Sodapop.

Ponyboy brings home his first-ever spelling test and their mom sticks it on the fridge with a magnet.

That bright-red 100% is going to haunt Soda’s dreams.

Every night Dad gets home at 6:00 to find Soda still sitting at the table, eyes red and puffy, and tears staining his homework and the table. He chides him for the new mark Soda’s left in the table’s surface from digging the eraser-end of his pencil into it. Soda deflates, he didn’t mean to do that, it’s just—what else is he supposed to do? He’s not allowed to get up until his homework’s done.

Darrel Curtis Sr. is a loving father and a very easy-going guy, until he’s standing there over Soda’s shoulder holding his hand—his left hand, which Soda’s grateful for but also it feels so wrong after his experience in third grade—forcing him to write in the answers because he just doesn’t get that writing it is only part of the problem. His dad loves him, he’s gentle with his touch but every inch of Soda’s skin feels like it’s on fire when his dad makes him write.

It’s not his dad’s fault, but Darrel Sr. is only human, and he hates yelling at his kids, but he has to raise his voice to try to get Sodapop to hear him above his scream-crying because it’s the only way to help him learn.

Sometime when Soda’s in seventh grade, Ponyboy asks him what his problem is. Homework’s not that bad.

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, Soda, but I just don’t think it’s worth crying over, you dig?”

Soda throws his pencil at his brother, slams his history book shut, and walks out the back door. Ponyboy watches in confusion. When their mom comes in to check on them, he tells her Sodapop’s overreacting again.

Dally, who had moved away after third grade to New York but came back just in time to start seventh grade with Soda, finds him at the Pershing Park playground sitting on the swings. It’s where Soda ends up when he’s hopelessly overwhelmed by homework, or when the thought of school looms over him like a cartoon anvil. Something about pumping his legs and willing the swing to take him higher and higher takes away the sick feeling that the idea of popcorn reading Shakespeare in his fifth period English class gives him. Dally asks him if he wants to find something better to do, and a few hours later they wind up back at the Curtis house with busted knuckles and the beginnings of black eyes and they pour grease into Soda’s hair and grin at each other.

When Sodapop is sixteen years old, a sophomore in high school, his father finds him sitting at that same kitchen table, staring down over an assignment that’s asking him to write a thousand-word essay and Soda turns to his dad wordlessly, his throat is closing up, and his dad tells him to breathe.

But he can’t. He can’t. He’s going to be sick, he might actually throw up. He feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest. One thousand words. Sodapop can’t even count that high. He can’t even read Dr. Seuss. He can’t do this anymore.

“Dad, I want to drop out.”

“Aw, Pepsi-Cola,” his dad says gently that night, brushing Soda’s hair back and then pulling him into a hug, “I know you do. I’ve been talkin’ to your mother about it. We got the paperwork from the school. But I think you should think about it a little longer, alright?”

Soda agrees to try and finish out the year. His dad gets it.

His dad spent ten years listening to Soda cry over homework. His dad never called him dumb. His mom did what she could. But the only person in all his years of school who Soda ever knew really believed in him was Miss Luft, and she never came back.

He thinks maybe if he had more teachers like her, who believed in him and gave him extra help and supported him along the way, if there was something—something that made it so they had to listen to him, had to help him, had to accept that it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t read right, couldn’t focus, couldn’t control his mood swings or emotions or his volcano of a mouth… maybe he could’ve done better. Maybe if Mrs. Foster had let him write with his left hand, he could’ve figured it out.

Soda hopes one day they figure out what makes kids like him tick. What makes them struggle. He hopes one day that their schools will decide to help.

A few months after he talks to his dad, Sodapop finds the signed paperwork in his dad’s desk drawer. His parents have just been buried, and Soda can’t stop crying at the drop of a pin. He’s been skipping all his classes, but none of his teachers seem to care. It’s fine. He’s dumb anyway, a lost cause. They’ll just keep passing him up to the next grade without batting an eye at the fact that he never gets higher than a D+, no matter how hard he tries.

Sodapop will always be that one student who slips through the cracks.

He looks over the form to drop out. He figures the school will take it, if he pitches it to them as a last-will kind of situation. He doesn’t even need to ask Darry to give the okay, because Dad signed it months ago, like he had already known the decision Sodapop would make.

And he did. It’s dated that same night Soda sat at the kitchen table feeling like the world was ending and like he was dying because of a goddamn required word count.

But he knows Miss Luft believes in him, and he knows what his dad wanted, so he finishes out the school year—passes Gym and Auto Shop, too.

Soda hopes he made them proud. And now, he’ll never have to worry about explaining the dried tears on his spelling homework ever again.

#sodapop curtis #the outsiders musical #the outsiders book #outsiders fanfic #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #twobit mathews #johnny cade #dally winston #hello outsiders fandom #in which soda experiences the adhd feeling of hours spent at the kitchen table crying over homework #and finds out his parents were in fact on board with him dropping out #and thinks schools should do more for kids who need extra help #as written by a certified teacher lol #julie writes stuff #my post

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