#soda writes

[25centsoda]

22323 1

Until yesterday, I had never experienced what Michelangelo did — I was never able to see through the clay and into what it was meant to be. But yesterday, I held a bird in my hand, like god: I just had to take the red, warm earth in my hands and pull its winged form into the open air.

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[sodapopper]

Ponyboy is like “Darry ALWAYS yells at me but NEVER yells at Soda! I don’t understand!! Why??!”

…because you yell back, my guy. Whereas Soda just cries.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"WHERE IS DARRY?" Soda is on his feet before the screen door slams, Steve jumpin' off the sofa beside him.

"What is it, Pony?" Pony rounds the corner with a wide, crazed grin 'n Darry comes barrelin' down the hall. "What's wrong?"

"Darry- they fuckin' broke up!" A brief wave of confusion passes across the panicked plains of Darry's face before his jaw drops open in delighted shock.

"No." He snatches Pony's arm, leads him back into the kitchen 'n plops down at the table. "Carrie-Ann? Are you sure?" Darry leans forwards, elbows on his knees, eagerly. Pony cackles at havin' got exactly the reaction he wanted.

Steve shoots Soda a glance 'n Soda rolls his eyes fondly, crashin' back down onto the sofa. Steve shuffles around the arm, clearly listenin' in but tryin' to be the nosy allegations. "What are they on about?"

Soda cranks the volume of the TV waves a hand dismissively. "Some couple at school. God, you would think their lives depended on it the way they talk about it."

"Hush, from the peanut gallery in there." Darry shushes him from the kitchen 'n Soda wiggles his eyebrows.

"Not our fault you don't got the attention span for a good story." Soda clutches his hand to his chest in mock offense 'n it's Pony's turn to roll his eyes.

"Wait, Carrie-Ann 'n Tommy? Ain't they been goin' together for a couple years now?" Steve stops pretendin' to be indifferent, drifts into the kitchen.

"Steve, not you too!" Darry splits into a grin and Soda sticks his tongue out.

"Yeah! But only 'cause she told him she was pregnant last year! He was gonna leave I swear! I heard Jerry tell Susan in my math class." Steve scrunches his face up and Pony shakes his head earnestly.

"Well, it would serve him right. Tommy was in my English and he'd bat those stupid eyes at anythin' that moved- even when he was pinned. That Carrie girl deserved better." Steve hops up onto the counter with a firm nod 'n Soda throws himself dramatically across the couch with a groan.

The back door swings open 'n Dallas appears in the living room, glancin' into the impromptu gatherin' around the table. "Woah woah woah, y'all talkin' about me? I'm sure it's all good shit."

He ducks over to Soda, jabbin' him in the ribs and slidin' out of the way when Soda kicks at him. He misses but rolls off the couch and dives for Dallas' knees. Dally goes down hard and Soda howls his laughter.

"Nah, one of the couples up at school broke it off." Steve leans dangerously far over Pony 'n snatches one of the grandma candies Darry loves so much from the bowl.

"Who?"

"Dallas!" But they all knew it was a lost cause. If Darry 'n Pony were drama fiends, Dallas was a hound for the stuff. He was always showin' up with some new juicy tidbit. Sometimes Soda would swear Pony loved Dallas more than him solely for the fact Dallas seemed to have his nose in everythin'.

"Carrie-Ann 'n-"

"Tommy? No fuckin' way." Dallas detangles himself from Soda, shoves Steve over, 'n climbs up onto the counter. Soda shoots him a glare he misses entirely. He flops flat onto the floor, tucks his hands under his head, and refocuses on the beach flick. Or tries to.

"I heard she cheated on him." Dallas leans forward conspiratorially and Pony 'n Darry's jaws fall open in twin shocked expressions.

"No way, really!"

"I'm sorry, you're sayin' Carrie cheated on him?" Dallas raises an eyebrow haughtily and leans back on his hands.

"Swear to God."

"Wait." All four heads swivel to Soda as he sits back up, somethin' prickin' at his memory. "Tommy. Tommy Dil- somethin' right? His daddy owns the car lot close to the river, yeah?"

"Dilon, yeah." Darry leans so he can better see Soda through the door at the same time Pony says,

"Yeah, the one that looks like a Soc 'n talks like a greaser but ain't either." And Steve leans traitorously far again and adds,

"The one that thinks he's a lady-killer but nobody wants him but Carrie." Dallas puts both hands on Steve's back 'n pushes him over so he can get a good look at Soda and hoots,

"Not even his mama wanted his busted ass. That's why he only lives with his dad." Steve shoves him off and Pony momentarily whips back around with wide eyes.

"Wait, really?" Darry bats him up the side of his head, the shit talkin' goin' a hair too far for him, apparently.

"What is it, Soda?" Steve quickly redirects the focus back to him before Pony can whine 'n Soda forgets what he was gonna say completely.

"I saw him at the Dingo with Cheryl last week. 'N they weren't just holdin' hands if I'm being delicate." He wiggles his eyebrows 'n the tips of Pony's ears go all red. Dallas howls and grabs Steve who is so bewildered he forgets to shake him off.

"Cheryl? Ain't no way! I never would have-"

"Ain't she goin' with Benny?"

"Man, I thought she was catholic-"

"I swore she didn't come to this side of town- didn't wanna dirty those damn gogo boots-"

"Soda." Darry fixes his middle brother with a look that could pin him straight to the wall. Soda blinks big, innocent eyes at him. "That true?"

"Hell no." He splits into a big mischievous grin and Pony lets out an indignant wail, launchin' himself out of his chair 'n onto Soda. Soda flips him onto his back easily but Steve is on top of him before he can blink, jabbin' him in the ticklish spot under his ribs so Pony can wriggle out.

"Since when are you 'n Pony on the same side?"

"Since now! Get 'em Pone!" Steve pins Soda's arms above his head and Pony goes to town ticklin' every place he knows will make Soda holler until he's red in the face. Soda rips one hand free and Dallas comes up behind Steve, liftin' him straight off the ground with the kind of wiry strength they all forgot Dallas had.

Darry instantly takes up Pony 'n Steve's side 'n it doesn't take long until there are no sides at all- just them all rollin' around and laughin' so hard their sides all ache.

"You know, I think I get it now- that drama shit is fun!"

[damthosefandoms]

“Will you stop it?”

Darry’s temper is like a bruise you don’t remember how you got. Sodapop just can’t help but press down on it, just to see what happens. And every single time, like clockwork, the pain comes—and so does Darry’s anger.

Soda just has to tap his pencil against the table one more time, and he laughs a little as he does, a little laugh that Darry knows all too well. It drives him nuts. Their father calls it an “instigator giggle.” He says it runs in the family. Darry swears that he, personally, has never laughed like that in his entire life, but oh, oh does it get on his last nerve when he hears it come out of Soda’s mouth.

The grin, the laugh, and Darry reaches over and smacks his brother’s hand so hard the pencil goes flying. Soda screeches in some mix of amusement and pure, unadulterated fear, an indescribable feeling that only successfully annoying your older brother to the point he has no choice but to retaliate can bring, and then jumps up from the table like a dog who heard the word “walk.” He’s got a crazed look in his eyes, hiding behind his chair, and Darry gets up too—Soda laughs and takes a step back as Darry takes two forward, and then the little shit is bolting down the hall and Darry only doesn’t catch up to him because Ponyboy’s appeared in the doorway, complaining he’s missing all the funny stuff, again.

Soda hides behind his locked bedroom door and laughs so hard he cries. Dad comes home later and asks why Soda’s homework isn’t done, why everything’s still laid out on the kitchen table and why he nearly slipped on a pencil walking in the door. Darry’s up in arms and Soda’s giggling like a maniac and Pony whines they left him out again, and all is right in the world.

[only-lonely-star]

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!”

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Transfem Soda, but Mrs. Curtis lived on, and she taught soda about doing makeup, shopping for good dresses, and other girly stuff!

  So I tried, but keep in mind I dunno how to do makeup, shop for dresses, and all that girly stuff lol. I just wrote what I kinda know abt it??

Will probably cross post this to Ao3 later, although it’s only abt 1.5k words which ain’t that many for me

-

  “It just don’t look right,” Soda says, squeezing her eyes shut miserably so she doesn’t have to face herself in the mirror. “It don’t look right at all.”

  Steve huffs. “Well, I’m sorry, but I dunno why ya thought I’d be any good at this!” he whines. 

  “You got real steady hands,” Soda mutters. Really, it’s because Steve’s the only one who knows her secret.

  Steve clicks his tongue and cards a hand through her hair gently. “But I ain’t so good at this, Soda, you know that.”

  Soda blinks an eye open. Steve’s standing next to her with her mom’s eyeliner pencil in hand, looking up at her.

  Ugh, up.

  God, she loves Steve, but sometimes being near him makes her hate her height all the more. She’s the girl in the relationship, she shouldn’t be so much…bigger than her boyfriend. She’d never tell Steve that, because he resents his own short height enough as is- but his height ain’t the problem. Her height is.

  Oh well. She’s slenderer than Steve, at least. Daintier. Narrower… She chances a glance at the mirror again, glumly. She’s slenderer than Steve, but in her baggy white t-shirt and jeans, she sure looks just as broad.

  She winces at the sight of the eyeliner. Steve did his best, but his best isn’t all that great. One of the little eyelash-lookin points sticks up towards her temple, while the other sticks down, pointing towards her cheekbone. Her massive stupid cheekbone. She looks like…she looks like a boy in makeup.

She groans and covers her eyes again.

  “Oh- Soda, c’mon, ya don’t look bad,” Steve says, softly prying her hands away from her face. 

  “I look ridiculous.”

  “Ya really don’t. You never do. I’d look ridiculous. You just look…greaser. Like uh…Sylvia.” Steve tries.

  Soda sighs, wrinkling her nose. She doesn’t wanna look like Sylvia. …She wants to look like Marilyn Monroe.

  Marilyn’s shoulders weren’t this…wide though.

  “I look like Darry,” she mutters, picturing the shoulder padding he used to wear for football.

  Steve scoffs loud at that one. “Oh sure, and I look like Clint Eastwood. Right. I forgot we were talkin’ crazy.”

  “I do!”

  “You look like your Ma, that’s who ya look like,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “Just because I’m lousy at makeup don’t mean you ain’t pretty.”

  “You’re nice to me.”

  “No I ain’t. I’m honest to you,” Steve mutters, reaching up to tilt her face down towards him. “That’s different.”

  Soda smiles, and lets him pull her in for a kiss. 

  “God, of course you’re pretty, Sodapop,” he whispers into it. She hugs him tight, warmth washing over her in waves-

  “Hey, boys, I’m home- oh!”

  Soda leaps away from Steve, accidentally shoving him into the wall, and the bathroom door slams shut.

  “AIN’T YA EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING?!” Steve shrieks, face redder than Soda’s ever seen it. 

  “M-Mom?” Soda says weakly, heart plummeting.

  Steve leans against the wall, frantically sizing up the window as if trying to determine if he can fit through it to escape. He definitely can’t though.

  “She saw,” Soda whispers, raking her hand through her hair. “Shit shit shiiiit. She saw- hells bells, she saw!”

  Steve nods, eyes wide. His lips are stained red from Soda’s lipstick. Soda’s lipstick. As if she’s just a girl, one who owns lipstick- no, it’s Mom’s lipstick, Soda’s mother’s, because Soda’s such a boy- 

  She coulda spiralled then, but a knock sounds outside.

  “Are you boys decent?” Mom’s voice says gently.

  “D-decent,” Steve echoes, looking vaguely ill.

  Soda wants to melt into a puddle there and then. God, Steve’s probably mortified to be caught with her. She’d be mortified to be caught with her.

  The door creaks open, and Mom peeks in. Soda wants to hide her face, hide the mess of black eyeliner and ugly, uneven lashes, hide the smeared lipstick that’s smudged onto Steve’s tank top. Hide the awful way she’s dared to do this to her face, a face that’s so…so masculine. Christ, she can see a spot she missed while shaving in the mirror. You’d think that kinda stuff’d be hard to notice while panicking, but suddenly it’s all Soda can see.

  “I- I did this,” Steve croaks, moving in front of Soda. “D-don’t  be mad at her. Him. Don’t be mad at…him. It was…me,” he chokes out. “I forced…him.”

  Mom gently nudges Steve out of the way, and she tilts Soda’s head up.

  “Sodapop?” she says, wiping at the tears Soda didn’t realize she was crying. “Buddy? You okay, baby colt?”

  “Steve didn’t force me to do nothin’,” Soda blubbers. “Stevie didn’t.”

  “I know he didn’t, baby. I know he wouldn’t do anythin’ to hurt ya.”

  Steve makes a weak noise in the back of his throat, looking at Soda helplessly.

  “Is that my good Revlon lipstick?” Mom says, the ghost of a smile on her face.

  Soda shrugs, looking at the floor.

  “You know, when you were little ya used to love that one. I always caught ya playin’ with it…” Mom sighs, cleaning up the outer edges of Soda’s lips with her fingertip. “You never could stay in the lines though, huh?” she muses.

  Soda swallows. “Huh?”

  “Hey, I lived in San Francisco when I was your age, kid, you think I ain’t met any drag queens?” Mom smiles.

  Soda can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Drag…queens? You?”

  “I just wanna know…are you the transexual type or just the dress up sort?” Mom says.

  Soda glances at Steve, who seems to have suddenly decided the bathroom ceiling is really really interesting.

  “Uh…the type that’s just…permanently…uh…a…” Soda’s voice dies.

  “She’s my girl,” Steve whispers, so soft Soda nearly can’t hear him. He coughs and repeats it louder. “She’s my girl, Mrs. Curtis.”

  Mom chuckles. “That’s good. If you were the dress up sort I’d have to tell ya you had a long way to go before makin’ that stage makeup look good. But since you’re a girl, I can teach ya normal makeup real easy.”

  Soda’s heart flutters. “Y…you’d…you’d do that?”

  “Well, you’re my…daughter, ain’t ya?” Mom says, a little hesitantly.

  “I-I am?” Soda murmurs.

  Mom wraps her arms around Soda and pulls her close. “Of course you are, baby filly.”

- 

  The girl in the mirror is beautiful.

  God, it’s weird. Mom must be a miracle worker. Even the eyeliner points- “wings”, Mom called ‘em- are perfectly symmetrical. 

  “So what do we think?” Mom says, running the comb through Soda’s hair again.

  “It’s…wow,” Soda says. Boy, her eyelashes look so long! And her eyes are so big- it’s wild! And hell, in the blouse she and Mom picked out, even her shoulders don’t look so bulky. Sure they ain’t as dainty as Marilyn’s or anything, but then, Mom’s ain’t dainty as Marilyn’s either.

  “You almost ready?” Steve says, knocking on the bedroom window from outside.

  Mom glares at him. “Steven Randle, I thought you knew better than to peep at a lady while she’s changing!”

  “Mrs. Curtis!” Steve yelps, standing straight up and colliding his head into the window frame. “Lordy, ain’t nothin’ I ain’t seen before-”

  “No messing around with my daughter before marriage,” Mom scolds, and Soda stifles a laugh. Steve goes bright red.

  “That ain’t- no, I mean- your daughter wanders around the house in just a towel half the time, okay?!” he protests. Mom clicks her tongue.

  Soda grins and pokes her head out the window. “Hey Stevie, dig the eyeliner?”

  Steve’s eyes soften immediately, and he beams. “Glory, you’re the finest gal I’ve ever seen.”

  “And my makeup’s a whole lot nicer when Ma does it than when you do,” Soda teases.

  “Oh really. I wonder why,” Steve says flatly.

  “It looks nice though, don’t it?” Soda says giddily. She sure thinks so.

  “Yeah, it does,” Steve says, checking her out very unsubtly. “Man, how’d ya get the…uh…” Steve makes a motion near his chest.

  “That’s inappropriate,” Mom says.

  “Hey, it’s a valid question,” Steve defends.

  “Not a gentlemanly one though,” Mom grunts. Ever since she found out about Soda and Steve, she’s been twice as harsh on him. When Soda was a boy, Steve could roll around on the floor with her and wrestle, and they could flat out injure each other, and Mom thought it was no big deal, but now, Steve was supposed to be “gentlemanly”. Soda laughs at the thought.

  “It’s okay, Ma, what’dya expect from a tuff greaser?” Soda grins, grabbing Steve’s hand to help herself outside through the window.

  Mom sighs good naturedly. “Soda, you oughta take the front door if ya don’t wanna get all dirty, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d have to walk past Dad, Darry, Pony, and Dallas for that.” Soda mutters. She ain’t so keen on them knowing just yet.

  “They’ll accept ya, baby.”

  “Just…not today, okay?” Soda says, hopping off the windowsill and into the grass with a soft thud.

  “Okay,” Mom says, smiling. “Have a good date, yeah?”

  Steve squeezes her hand. 

  Soda’s heart flutters. “I will,” she says. 

  “Have her back before midnight, Randle,” Mom adds, and he throws her a very un-Steve-like salute.

  “Will do, Mrs. Curtis.”

  “Love ya, Momma,” Soda says as Steve leads her to his car. 

  “Love ya, daughter,” Mom says.

-

  “Okay but seriously,” Steve says, later in the night, “how’d ya get the tits?”

  Soda smirks. “Undress me and find out, Stevie.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Steve says, getting a glint in his eyes.

  “Yeah.”

  “Tuff.”

[seraphicloves]

𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with reader who is bad with handling affection

⊱✿⊰ warnings: none i can think of

⊱✿⊰ notes: yipeee yay i think this will be good but idrk. I haven't written for tmnt in a hot minute lmao so hopefully this will be good! This is short sorry 💀

ʟᴇᴏ

❀ he is an asshole and he loves to tease you because you are so strange about affection. I feel like Leo is not only a generally affectionate person but he also loves teasing his S/O.

❀ Leo loves to force you to ask for the affection (within your boundaries.. if you hated it and let him know he would stop.) It is sort of helpful in a way because it helps to get you to stop acting like you don't like it. He wants you to feel comfortable with hugs and kisses and everything.

ᴅᴏɴɴɪᴇ

❀ y'all jst aren't an affectionate couple. Like Donnie isn't very good with affection/PDA and he can't tell that you want the hugs and kisses because you act like you don't. So he doesn't initiate unless he gets jealous or possesive, he just assumes you don't want it.

❀ You would have to explain to him how you are feeling and you would have to verbally express what you want. Eventually he will be able to read your behavior but he can't do it right away, he needs your help.

ʀᴀᴘʜ

❀ Raph would be so scared that you don't like him anymore. He honestly thinks your behavior stems from his inability to be a good boyfriend versus your own troubles.

❀ He would kinda stop the pda for a while until you start seeming upset and it finally clicks to him. When he understands what's happening he would slowly integrate the affection into your life. So you could get used to it easier.

ᴍɪᴋᴇʏ

❀ He understands your behavior almost right away but he is a menace just like Leo. Instead of denying you affection, he ups his behavior ridiculously.

❀ The more you complain the more he gives you hugs and kisses and cuddles and everything. He will tease you about being embarrassed about it and he will eventually get you to start asking for it.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[specific-dreamer]

my baby, my baby (you’re my baby)

Summary: darry visits his dad and rants. he also cries. </3

Darrel loves each of his kids (and stray kids) equally. No matter how hard Steve tries to pry it out of him, he does not have a favorite.

He loved when Johnny came over for dinner and he’s able to convince the kid to spend the night, he loves when Soda and Steve came home with new stories about their day at the rodeo, he loved when he came home from work and Ponyboy would rush to tell him about the book he’d just finished, he loved attending Ace’s recitals, and he loved when Dally comes over just to sit in their company when he could’ve been causing a ruckus around town instead.

He is, however, a little more partial to his first born than the others. No hard feelings, he still loves his other kids, but Darrel Junior was his first child; the reason he’s the father he was a father, so he’s always going to have a soft spot for him no matter what he does.

Besides, it doesn’t hurt that Junior is the only one who visits him and Karen on a normal basis. Darrel huffs to himself has he sits on top of his grave. Since dying, he’s somehow gained an internal watch, so he knows it’s 3:47pm exactly; when Junior visits it’s usually around 4pm.

Junior’s early today though, Darrel thinks to himself hearing footsteps approaching. There’s not much else he can do but wait for Darry who bends in front of Karen’s grave and leaves her a flower first. If he were alive, Darrel’s heart might’ve clenched. Karen’ll be sorry he missed Darry, but she’s watching over the other boys right now; it’s alright though, Darrel will fill her in when she gets back.

Darry’s head was bent too low for him to get a good look at first, but now that he’s turned towards Darrel’s grave he can see the tears streaming down his face. If he still needed oxygen, he’s sure his breath would’ve caught.

“Hi, Dad,” Darry’s says taking a seat on the ground. Darrel can’t help but notice he’s got his knees pulled to him like he’s trying to protect himself.

He frowns and pulls himself to join Darry on the ground. Hey, kiddo. What’s the matter? He knows Darry can’t hear him, he learnt that the hard way a while ago now, it still brings him a little bit of comfort though.

Darry sniffs. “I don’t know how you and Mama did it.”

Did what?

Darry gestures in the air, “This parenting shit- stuff, I meant stuff, sorry.” Darrel laughs a little; his baby’s twenty years old and still apologizing for cussing.

If he’s honest, Darrel isn’t even sure how he did it. It was in large part thanks to Karen, of course, she kept him steady whenever he floundered. Junior also helped too, though. He doesn’t like to throw the word around, but for all intent and purposes, Darry was a perfect first child.

“The other night,” Darry continues. “I guess Ponyboy had a nightmare or something, I don’t know, but I heard him asking Soda why I hated him.” His voice breaks at the end and Darrel is forced to watch as Junior sobs into his arms.

It’s futile he knows, but after a moment of watching he hugs Darry anyway. Almost as if he could actually feel the hug, Darry stiffens before looking up and staring straight through Darrel. Spooky, he thinks.

“I don’t hate him, I promise.”

I know you don’t.

“I love him a lot, but it’s like he purposely grates my nerves. He knows I’m stretched thin and it’s like he’s trying to see how long until I snap. And that’s not fair! I don’t know how to be a parent, I don’t how to raise a fourteen year old!”

Darrel isn’t sure when it happened, but a flip was switched as Junior started to rant angrily. He doesn’t leave the cemetery too often, but when he did he noticed the two often riled each other up; it was never one sided. He can’t exactly correct Darry though so he hums instead.

“Daddy, you know when you first, um,” he winces. “left, Pony didn’t talk for a week. Okay, that’s fine, I can handle that, but he stopped eating too. I tell him, ‘Pony you have to eat something, you can only go so long without eating before you die from starvation.’ And I kid you not the only thing he says to me that entire week was ‘You’re not dad, Darrel, you can’t tell me what to do’. I never said I was! I just didn’t want him to die too, is that so bad?”

Darrel blinks. That was a lot, and he’s not really sure where to start processing it. He sighs airlessly, It’s not bad. You were worried about him and had his best interests at heart I get it. Is he eating now at least?

Just as fast as it came, the anger seems to leave Darry all once as he lies back on the grass with his hands over his face. “I don’t even know if he eating for real, yet. I’m not home enough to know; I eat my breakfast in the dark, go to work, come home when everyone’s asleep, eat dinner in the dark, go to bed, rinse and repeat.”

Darrel winces. Even he didn’t work those kind of hours and could’ve handled them. Darrel liked his solitude every now and then, but not Darry. No, not his Junior; his Junior is a people’s person through and through, there’s a reason he won boy of his year.

Rubbing Darry’s ankle he says, I know you’re working your ass off, but I’m real proud of you, baby. I know it don’t look it now, but it will all pay off.

There’s a pause, and if he wants he could trick himself into believing his boy heard him, before Darry says something so quietly Darrel has to strain to hear. “I know it’s wrong, and I try not to, but sometimes I wish I let them get taken. I love them, really I do! But Soda wants to drop out of school and Pony hates me and he thinks I hate him back, and don’t even get me started on Dallas— I don’t think there’s a been a weekend where we haven’t haven’t argued or he hasn’t been in jail. I’m trying my best, but I keep screwing up and that’s not fair on them.”

He breaks into sobs again, this time so strong his whole body shakes. Darrel can’t even do anything to comfort him, his stupid ghost body isn’t corporeal. The best thing he can do is stroke Darry’s hair and hope he knows his daddy is here for him. He hates seeing his kids cry and he’s never been more angry that he’s dead.

Between sobs Darry says, “I wanna leave. So I can’t mess anything else up.”

No, sir. You’ll get the hang of things soon enough, it’s a new adjustment and y’all’ve just gotta find your footing. I know it’s hard, but y’all will find it.

“I’m not gonna,” Darry protests. His baby is red in the face and breathing real hard, but Darrel is thankful is eyes are finally starting to dry. “I want to leave but I don’t want to leave them.”

So, what are you gonna do, Junior?

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I wish you were here, you’d know what to do.”

Darrel winces. Actually now-

“Well, never mind. You wouldn’t be dumb enough to get in this situation to begin with.”

Harsh, but he’s probably right. Darrel watches as the gears turn in Junior’s head. He loves all his kids equally, yes. But Darry’s always been his favorite to watch because when he isn’t focused he wears every emotion on his face. He can see exactly when Darrys made his mind up long before he stands up and dusts off his pants.

“You drive a hard bargain, but fine I’ll stay.” Darrel barks out a laugh as Darry checks his watch. It’s 6:29pm, he’s been here for nearly three hours. “Shit, I said I’d make dinner.” Somehow, when Darry looks up he’s staring Darrel in the eyes. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you later.”

Alright, stay tough out there. I love you, kiddo.

Darry’s eyes widen a minuscule amount and he grins as he ducks his head. “Yeah, I love you too, daddy.”

[horsegirlsodapop]

something something post vietnam au. soda comes back with his knee re-fucked up and that familiar itch against his bones and he's never wanted to leave tulsa a day in his life but home is abrasive. he takes darry's keys and drives up through kansas to get re-aquainted with America. he shares cigarettes with truckers outside of truck stops. he smokes weed with kids chasing the grateful dead. he draws cows in the pastures next to the highway while they graze. he tries every dying diner's specialty pie. he sleeps in the truck cab or bed when it's warm and clear. he goes to the junction of i-46 and 41 in california where james dean wrecked his car and died. he follows the highway up to san francisco to see the ocean. he calls darry from a pay phone and apologizes for stealing his car. he has him pass the phone off to pony so he can demand his kid brother prattle on about books he's never read just to hear his voice. he's looking for something. he's not sure what.

[littlestarbigsky]

i took a poll like a week ago on which wip i should finish and this is what the collective decided :)

first of all, this is much longer than i thought it would be lol but also ngl i almost wrote this as chetcherrycola but fear not cherrycola is alive and well in this one🫡 (looking back she’s hardly in it at all lol but trust she is there‼️)

… soda has appendicitis :p

“where’s your brother?” darry asked ponyboy as he slumped down at the kitchen counter, pulling a piece of toast onto a plate from the platter in the middle of the counter and starting to butter it.

pony pointed to their room, “still in bed. think he’s getting sick, he was burning like a furnace all last night.”

one side of darry’s mouth pulled back and he hummed, “i’ll go check on him. i cut up some of the fruit, you should have some of it before you go.”

“fine,” pony rolled his eyes, taking the serving spoon and putting some of the strawberries onto his plate next to his toast.

“pepsi-cola, it’s almost 7, time to rise and shine!” darry called, wiping his hands on the dish towel thrown over his shoulder and pushing the bedroom door open with his hip.

the room felt stiflingly hot, whether or not that had to do with soda potentially being sick or with the temperature outside finally starting to warm up again, darry wasn’t sure. either way, soda had the covers pulled up over his head.

“soda, c’mon…” darry yanked the sheet back, and his heart dropped clean into his stomach.

soda was laying on his side, drenched in sweat and as pale as the sheet he was tangled up in. his eyes were squeezed shut from the pain and he was desperately clutching his stomach. darry could hear his breath hitching in his throat, his asthmatic lungs trying to compensate for the crying. he flinched as darry pulled the sheet back and looked up at him with the most desperate and terrified eyes darry had ever seen.

“soda…” darry dropped to his knees next to the bed and brushed some of the hair off of soda’s sweaty forehead. “baby, what’s the matter?”

“i don’t know,” soda gasped, and even that seemed like it took far too much effort for comfort. he let out a strangled sounding sob and curled in on himself even tighter.

“hey hey kiddo, look at me, please,” darry grabbed soda’s face and almost had to pull his hands back when he felt the fever. “jesus christmas, pepsi, you’re on fire.”

“please,” soda pleaded, and it broke darry’s heart clean in two. “i don’t know what’s happening, dar, please, it hurts…”

“i know, i know, it’s okay,” darry was already standing up to get his boots on and round up ponyboy to take soda to the hospital. “just hang on for a second, we’re gonna get you help.”

he sprinted from the room to his own, grabbing the first pair of shoes he could find and racing to get them on.

“pony!” he roared, and pony hurried into his room, still with the blanket over his shoulders but at least in his day clothes. “go get my keys and start the truck, we’re taking soda to the hospital.”

“what? what’s wrong with him? can we even afford a hospital?” pony asked, his words slurring slightly with sleepiness.

“ask me that once we get soda help, alright?” darry huffed, finishing tying his boots and sprinting past pony and into their room to get soda.

he grabbed a blanket to wrap soda up in and got to lifting him into his arms. it was no easy task, it seemed like moving soda even the littlest bit was excruciating, but after a few minutes and many muttered apologies, darry managed to maneuver him up and into his arms. he could feel soda shaking and sobbing as he sprinted to the truck.

ponyboy had the truck running and was in the passenger seat, waiting for darry as he laid soda across the front seat with his head in pony’s lap.

“darry, his fever-”

“i know! darry cried, putting the truck in gear, slamming his foot down, and effectively launching them down their street.

pony tried his best to hold soda still as darry took turns too fast and had to stop abruptly, but the vibrations of the truck combined with tulsa’s far from perfect roads made for lots of bumping. pony ran his fingers through sofa’s sweaty hair, holding him close and trying his best to keep him calm, but the tears didn’t stop, and darry could feel them in his own eyes, too.

“soda,” pony pleaded, his voice high and breaking. “soda can you try to take a deep breath? please, you’re gonna start wheezin, and then you won’t be able to tell anyone what’s wrong.”

darry could feel his throat going tight from trying not to cry, he could hear the tears in pony’s terrified voice and the wheeze in soda’s lungs and he just put his foot down to get there faster.

the second darry had pulled up outside of the emergency room, ponyboy sprinted in to tell someone what was happening as darry hopped out of the truck and tried to gently get soda back into his arms. it was harder now that he was in the truck as opposed to in his bed, but it seemed like soda was in so much pain that it really didn’t matter what darry did to try to keep him comfortable.

he sprinted through the door, meeting three nurses who were already wheeling a gurney towards the door. it was mayhem when darry set him down, one nurse immediately starting to tie a band around his arm so they could start an iv as soon as they could, one had a clipboard and was taking his vitals and shaking her head every time she wrote down a number, and the last one was shuffling around to get them moving in the right direction.

“honey, can you tell us what’s hurting you?” the nurse with the clipboard asked as they started to wheel him back through the big metal doors.

“my stomach!” soda wailed, and all three of them exchanged solemn looks.

“you’re the parent or guardian?” one of them asked darry.

he couldn’t answer at first, he was so dazed and confused that he could only sputter out, “he’s my brother.”

the nurse asked again, seeming to understand the jumble his head was in, “are you the guardian, honey?”

darry just nodded numbly, and followed them back through the maze of hallways and sterile smelling rooms until they stopped and wheeled him into a room. they gave him an iv and started the pain meds, but soda was so worked up and panicked that they had to start giving him oxygen.

darry sat in the corner next to soda’s head, brushing his hair back and trying to keep him calm and comfortable while the team worked on his little brother. he was distantly aware that somewhere in the fray, they had lost ponyboy, but darry had long since realized that pony dealt with things better when he was alone. and he was a smart kid; he would either stay in the waiting room or be resourceful enough to find their room. either way, darry didn’t need to worry about pony, not when soda was still sobbing as the nurses tried to get his pain under control while they ruled out all kinds of terrible conditions.

it wasn’t until an hour later when soda let out a truly horrible scream of pain, despite being pumped full of pain medicine, that the doctors and nurses seemed to come to any sort of conclusion.

the doctor pulled darry aside and said quickly, “soda most likely has appendicitis, and with how much pain he’s in, we think his appendix may have already ruptured. the best treatment option at the moment is to give him an emergency appendectomy.”

“do it,” darry barely let the doctor finish before the words were tumbling out of his mouth. “please, just… help him.”

“we’d like to take him now, we just need you to sign this as his guardian,” the doctor nodded, handing him a clipboard and a pen. darry quickly found the signature page and scribbled down his name. they started wheeling soda back to the operating room, and darry jogged to catch up to them.

“darry?” soda whimpered, and darry ran up next to him and grabbed his hand. “darry, what’s happening?”

darry felt something drop in his stomach, “it’s your appendix, baby, they need to take it out.”

“but that’s a surgery!” soda cried, his breath picking up. “we can’t afford that!”

“shh, don’t you dare worry about that, honey, i just want you to get better,” darry leaned down and pressed a kiss to soda’s forehead.

they made it into an operating room and started to get soda prepped. after checking with him one final time, they pushed the medicine to put him to sleep through his iv.

soda squeezed his eyes shut, “that feels funny…”

“you’re gonna be okay, baby, you’re gonna wake up and feel so much better,” darry whispered to soda, smoothing his hair back. “me and pony are gonna be right there when you wake up. i love you so much, sodapop, you know that, don’t you?”

soda nodded weakly, the anesthesia already starting to work, “love you, dar, and pony, too. i can’t feel anything… ‘s nice…”

“just sleep, baby, it’s okay now,” darry felt a tear slip down his cheek as soda closed his eyes.



“pony?” darry called into the near-empty waiting room as he pushed the doors open. it wasn’t more than five seconds before pony had catapulted himself into his arms. “hey, kiddo, it’s okay.”

“what happened? what’s wrong with soda?” pony cried, clinging to darry. “they said he’s in surgery! what’s going on?”

“honey, how did you know he was in surgery?” darry pushed pony back to hold him at arms length.

“i told him,” a voice behind them answered, and darry whipped around to see cherry standing in her hospital uniform, wringing her hands nervously. “i overheard the page.”

darry could hear the anxiety in her voice. he could see her red-rimmed eyes and shaking shoulders. cherry wasn’t just some soc from the west side, she was his girlfriend. she loved him. she was just as worried about soda as they were.

“c’mere,” darry held out an arm to her and she fell into him. “it’s gonna be okay.”

“what’s wrong with him? why’s he in surgery?” pony asked, still anxious and obviously scared, but a little less frantic.

“the doctor said it’s his appendix,” darry held both of them close as he tried to explain, doing his best to keep his voice even.

cherry gulped, “oh, god.”

“but he’s gonna be okay, right?” pony pulled back from the hug and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

darry squeezed cherry again before letting her go in an attempt to put off answering the question. he straightened up and took a deep breath before saying, “i… we don’t know yet. the doctors are confident and the procedure is straightforward, but if his appendix ruptured already, there could be infections… we just don’t know yet.”

pony bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, keeping his head down and not looking at either of them.

darry could feel the telltale lump rising in his throat and he realized that he was about to cry, too, the delayed panic and fear finally catching up with him.

“pony,” darry’s voice was hoarse and crackling. “do you wanna go back to his room? i can show you where it is…”

pony nodded quickly, accepting the arm darry threw over his shoulder.

darry turned around and met cherry’s bloodshot eyes, “you’re on the clock, aren’t you?”

“i’m done in forty-five minutes,” she shrugged. “i’ll meet you back there when he’s out.”

darry started to walk with pony, pushed the huge set of double doors open and fell into step with his brother, winding through the hallways of the hospital and finally turning back into the room. with the bed gone, the room seemed massive. it sure hadn’t felt that big with all the people crammed in it twenty minutes ago.

pony started to sink down onto the floor, darry helped keep him on his feet long enough to get them over to the vinyl covered couch in the corner of the room. pony curled up against darry, shaking and crying. he couldn’t even blame ponyboy for being so scared, because truthfully, soda was never the one who scared them whenever he was sick. pony had always been the one to need hospitals and doctors, but soda, if he ever got sick, was able to bounce back after a day or two in bed. aside from small asthma scares every now and again, darry couldn’t think of a time where pony would have ever seen soda sick at all.

he lost track of how long they were there, his baby brother clinging to him like a lifeline and more scared than he had been in a long time, but the sun had risen and was high in the sky by the time the doctor pushed the door open. pony’s head shot up to look at him and darry could feel his heart speeding up, pounding in his throat.

the doctor looked up from his clipboard, taking in the brothers for a moment before his face relaxed into a smile, “everything went perfectly, we have soda in recovery right now.”

pony fell into darry’s shoulder, his hand flying over his mouth.

darry hugged pony to him, still looking up at the doctor, “can we see him?”

the doctor nodded, “you can come with me.”

they hopped up from the couch, pony clutching darry’s arm so hard his fingers started to go numb, and weaved through the maze of hallways behind the doctor. when they found the room, soda was still asleep, his pajamas discarded in favor of a hospital gown. the cannulas were still in place to give him oxygen, but darry found a knot loosening in his chest listening to the monitors beeping, a steady cadence that reminded him that their brother was okay. if nothing else, his heart was still beating.

darry walked over slowly and sat down in the straight-backed chair next to him, grabbing soda’s hand and squeezing it softly, checking the pulse-ox monitor on his finger. pony walked around to the other side, sitting down next to soda on the bed.

“soda…” pony sniffled.

“shh,” darry hushed gently. “let him sleep, kiddo. he needs the rest to get better.”

he reached up and instinctually pressed the back of his hand to soda’s forehead. his fever had gone down, whatever medicine darry had signed off on was working. soda’s eyes began to flutter open. darry sat up quickly, perching on the very end of his chair.

he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before looking over, following the feeling of whoever was holding his hand, “hey dar…”

darry couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face, “hi, baby. have a good sleep?”

“mmm,” he hummed, not really leaning one way or the other. “feels funny, my head’s all spinny.”

“yeah, they’ve got you pretty hopped up on pain meds, kiddo,” darry leaned forward and brushed soda’s hair out of his eyes.

soda slowly turned to look at ponyboy, “hey, honey.”

pony didn’t seem to be able to keep himself together, a few tears slipped down his cheeks as he pulled soda’s hand up to his face. soda opened up his fingers to hold pony’s cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing away the tears. he gestured next to him and scooted over on the bed, hissing slightly as he moved. pony looked worried for a second, but happily laid down next to soda, his head resting on his brother’s shoulder.

“careful, pepsi, don’t wanna tear those stitches… you feeling alright? comfortable?” darry asked quickly, the euphoria of soda being alright beginning to wear off.

“‘m tired, darry,” he was exhausted. darry could hear in his voice, even if his goofy smile was firmly back in place.

“you can sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up,” darry sighed as soda threw an arm around pony. “cherry might be in soon, too.”

“really?” soda smiled, his eyes already drooping. “she’s gonna be so mad at me… she probably worried herself sick…”

“you’ll be fine, kiddo, i think she’ll understand. just rest, you need it.”

darry smiled, squeezing soda’s hand and smiling at his two baby brothers, both of them already almost asleep.

[ranx0]

Steve's liked cars since before he knew. He's just always liked them. He stared at the fancy ones people from across town drove, and he liked to admire the one his dad kept the the garage.

Ten years ago Steve Randle met Sodapop Curtis. Sodapop was six going on seven, and Steve was seven. The former was a loud outspoken kid with an average home life. Two loving parents and two brothers to keep him company. The latter wasn't so lucky, his parents were going through an ugly divorce and they didn't bother to make sure he was okay during any of it.

Steve, like any other little boy, craved attention. He knew Sodapop got attention, he knew it almost as soon as he became friends with the boy. He could tell from his jokes, his smile, the way he talked like everyone was listening, and his confidence that he was a boy everyone always noticed. Maybe that's why Steve stuck by him, copying his confident nature in a way that came off as cocky. Copying his loud volume in a way that made him annoying to most.

Soda figured that Steve liked cars one day a few months after they had just met. Steve always had a small toy car from home stuffed in his backpack hidden away from his parents in case they decided he was in trouble for the day. He had it out during recess, which immediately caught Soda's eyes. It was old and beaten up, but he could tell it used to be a model of those fancy bright red cars that looked like they had a mustache in the front.

Soda plopped down next to the boy, watching him zoom the car back and forth on the grass, opening and shutting the door then walking his hands with his fingers away from the car. Soda was amazed, the car looked fancy. Much more than any toys that Soda had, his were all one solid piece of plastic but Steve's- Steve's had functioning doors, fancy seats, and if you had something small enough you could probably stick it in one of the seats.

But its paint was chipped, there were a few dents in it and one of the car doors wouldn't close correctly. He learned that after observing Steve try and shut it a few times after playing with it for a while. The car was well-loved and had clearly been through a lot.

"That's a cool car." Soda stated, then Steve looked at him.

"It's my only one." The little boy mumbled, tightening his grip on it. Soda didn't understand why, he wasn't going to take it away from him or anything.

"What is it?" The blonde asked with a genuine curiosity that Steve couldn't help but fumble at. He picked the car up from off the ground and sat crisscrossed on the grass. Soda waited patiently for his response.

"It's, uhm, a Ford Convertible," Steve played with the car in his hands, then looked up at Soda. "You could see some around town if you look hard enough."

"I think I have," Soda replied quickly, "They look real fancy."

Soda looked at Steve in awkward silence for a few more moments, and then Steve awkwardly held the car out for Soda to take. "Here," He mumbled, looking away from Soda as he gave him the toy. "You can play with it if you want."

Soda beamed, grabbing the car quickly and zooming it around the floor. Steve's hand almost followed after the car when Soda took it harshly, but he held it back when he saw the excited look on his face.

"Just be careful with it," Steve grumbled as he watched.

That day Soda forgot to give it back, it had just slipped his mind. Recess ended abruptly and everyone rushed inside to continue the school day.

When Steve got home that day he placed his bag down in his room, and later when his parents started fighting he retreated back to busy himself with his prized possession. He was scrounging through his bag trying to find it, and when he couldn't he almost started to cry.

He must have been making too much noise because then it alerted his dad. He doesn't know what necessarily ticked him off, the mess he made while throwing around everything in his bag or the crying from Steve. But his father gave him something reasonable to cry about after he found him.

The next day in school Steve's hands were balled up into fists, trying to distract himself from crying over something stupid again as he tried to confront his new friend. He'd told Soda how he must've accidentally taken the car home with him, and the other boy was extremely apologetic.

Despite how apologetic he was though, he didn't get that car back for a while. Soda kept forgetting. Steve would ask at least once a week, and Soda would always look so genuinely crushed every time he was reminded.

When he finally got the car back it was around December. He'd given the car to him in October.

Soda invited Steve to his house for the first time and was excited to introduce Steve as his best friend. Soda had claimed that if he'd just waited for his parents instead of getting on the bus like he usually did his parents would be happy to have him over.

They waited for Soda's parents outside the school, and when they pulled up they almost expected the little boy standing next to Sodapop. They introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, and they seemed like sweet people. They had the same genuine smile as Soda did, and they always spoke gently. The complete opposite of his own.

“So, Steve, you and Soda just met this year, right?” His mother asked, and Steve nodded in response. He regrettably wasn’t paying much attention to the questions, just nodding along to whatever his parents had said.

He was focusing on the car that they had, what condition it was in, and how much it would be worth. He was way off, but that was only because he was seven and didn’t understand the concept of capitalism much. It was some type of Ford, but he personally thought his model was better.

When they pulled up in front of the house he noticed some stark contrasts from his own, although the house looked poor enough it had a well-taken-care lawn, its front door was open and its screen door was closed, and it had a nice paint job.

When he entered the house it had this warm aura to it, comforting and happy.

"Soda, why don't you go get Steve that surprise you had for him?" His mother urged, and then Soda bounced up and down excitedly. The younger boy ran off into a room, slamming the door. Steve flinched slightly at the loud noise, then turned to look at Mrs. Curtis quizzically.

He didn't get a response before Soda came barreling in holding something in each of his hands. He held them out to Steve, smiling at him excitedly. There he was holding Steve's old busted-up red Model Ford Convertible and a second one that Steve recognized as a dark blue Model 1947 Cadillac.

Steve could almost cry.

"They're both for you! I told Mama about how I kept forgettin' your car and felt real bad," He said shyly as Steve took the cars from his hands, "So she helped me get another as an apology!"

Steve looked up at Mrs. Curtis, he wasn't stupid, and he knew Soda couldn't buy one himself. Obviously, Mrs. Curtis had done this. He tried to hold back tears and mouthed a quick thank you.

So yeah, you could say Steve Randle liked cars. He liked them a lot, actually.

[vaultedoverthehorse]

“Curly, no.”

“C’mon, nobody’s gonna know, Ponyboy!”

Ponyboy stared at the teenager outside his window, exasperated. The feeling of the splintering window frame beneath his hands has become familiar, as Curly has been here every night for two straight weeks. He makes an attempt to convince Pony to come join him, but it’s usually met with resistance from the Curtis boy. But he will admit, the exhilaration and freedom that came from Curly’s revels was worth it. Even if the night usually ended in Pony and Curly screaming at each other.

But his brothers had started to catch on that something was happening. They don’t like the Shepard kid, so they shut down Pony’s good times with him quickly.

“Look, I’m glad you’re out again after everything that happened. I really am.” Darry sighed s he lectured Pony. “But there’s better guys than Curly Shepard. Do you want to be put in the reformatory with him?”

Pony had begrudgingly conceded, but that didn’t mean Curly had.

“Ain’t it right that Darry works late every Saturday? An’ didn’t I just hear that the one an’ only Sodapop Curtis was out with some Soc? Nobody’s here to stop y’a. So jus’ come have fun for once.”

Pony groaned, looking desperately at his desk for a book to knock him out and decide for him. The cold wind seemed almost enticing tonight, as if everything wanted him to just climb out of this very window and run with the middle Shepard sibling. He tried to remember his oldest brother’s warning, but that wasn’t working tonight. Pony was restless.

“I’ll buy you a Pepsi. You hear that? Buy, not steal.”

Pony grinned at that comment. Curly buying someone something was a big deal. “I don’t believe you.”

But his legs were already swinging over the windowsill in preparation for him jumping down. As he let go, he heard Curly’s chuckle as Pony fell hard onto the ground. He never got better at the dismount.

Curly clapped Pony on the back as he brushed the coarse dirt off his pants. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

The two boys walked away from the Curtis home, talking animatedly about everything and nothing. Pony knew he had hell to pay if his brothers found out - but if was the key word.

[brokentelevision]

Everyone say happy birthday to Souda rn

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

picky eater Dallas is rotting my head from the inside out I need to sit down and write immediately

[damthosefandoms]

au where everything’s the same but mr. and mrs. curtis die on darry’s 18th birthday and he has to work his ass off to graduate early so he can bring his (14 & 11 year old) brothers home and in that time between it all, has to rip up a college acceptance letter, turn down a full-ride football scholarship, fix up the house, find a job that’ll take him part time and eventually full-time, and loses his friends who can’t get over the fact he’s not going to be walking with them at graduation because he’ll be done with school before them. darry whose first taste of adulthood hits him like a train.