♉️

[skywitchflatbaddie]

[a-moth-to-your-flame]

Red Flags (Curtis Bros/Gang X Curtis!Sister)

synopsis: who is this BUM you’re seeing? or your new boyfriend’s an arsehole <3

a/n: YES YES YEEESS ANON! PLATONIC FICS ILY ILY! Hope ya’ll enjoy <3

w: cheating / OOC / implied violence / i’m sorry to any brian’s / SPELLING MISTAKES GRAHH I’M SO SORRY

~~

The lunch in Ponyboy’s mouth tasted acutely similar to a steaming pile of dog crap.

He scowled, swallowing down his sandwich.

Across the cafeteria, you were talking to, and giggling at a boy. And that wasn’t even the worst part.

This creature had an aura, one that certainly wasn’t positive to Pony, and nor would it be to the other Curtis boys.

Would Ponyboy face you up front about it? Of course not. He was looking out for you, sure, but he also had twin duties to keep up with.

So the second Darry and Soda got home from work, Ponys mouth was running faster than his legs could.

“She’s got a boyfriend! And he looks like a real creep!”

Darry raised his brows silently, watching you tackle Pony. The two of you tousled for a good minute, until Sodapop yanked Ponyboy off of you.

“Quit it. Pony ya just being over-protective.”

The younger boy squirmed in Sodas hold.

“Invite him ‘round for dinner,” Darry spoke up finally. “I wanna see for myself.”

You huffed, sitting up with a scowl. “Ain’t nothing to see!”

“Liar!”

This time Darry caught you before hell could break loose again.

~~

“He should be here by now…” 

Your eyes rested on the nearby clock, as your boyfriend grew more tardy by each tick.

Pony gave a triumphant look to Darry and Soda, which you noticed and kicked his shin from underneath the table.

Finally, 30 minutes later than anticipated, there was a sharp knock at the door.

You bounded up, racing to open the door with a large smile.

The boy, Brian, at the door grunted, sidestepping you as you attempted to hug him.

Darry had appeared behind you silently, holding out a hand to Brian, who shook it and mumbled an introduction.

“Pleasure.” Darry deadpanned, moving back to the kitchen to where Pony was scowling and Soda was smiling slightly.

“Ain’t seem that bad, Pony. Maybe a bit bland..”

“No, no, no. He is evil. Trust me.” Sodapop chuckled again at Ponys warning.

You led Brian in, yapping excitedly about your day, although he was clearly not listening, an openly annoyed expression on his face.

The three brothers shared a silent look, before Darry started dishing up everyone’s meal

From that night, Darry noted that your boyfriend constantly seemed bored or bothered by you. 

Soda saw how he subtly tried to control you, with where or how you sat. 

And Pony noticed he was a mouth breather, which was obviously the worst sign.

~~

A few days after that unimpressive night, you burst through the front door with tears streaming down your face as you made a beeline for your bedroom.

Dally and Johnny, who’d crashed on your couch, both jumped up, equally startled by your dramatic entrance.

Ponyboy raced in a few moments after you, panting for a moment then continuing his pursuit.

“C’mon, open the door! Tell me what’s wrong!”

He huffed, trying at the very locked door once again before slumping against the wall and sliding down to the floor.

“What’s up with her?” Dally asked from the end of the hall.

“Man, beats me.”

Pony grumbled, before burying his face into his hands. He was so stressed about you. You were usually so cheerful, quick to banger back with Pony.

But that afternoon, when he made a joke about Brian, all he got was tears.

Pony didn’t move from beside your door, listening to your muffled sniffles and sobs.

Thankfully Darry and Soda (and Steve) got home earlier than usual.

“Pony! Where’s your sister?” Darry called out.

“Didn’t kill her did ya?” Ponyboy finally looked up at Sodas words.

“She’s locked herself away, man. I said something about her boyfriend and— and now she’s bawling her eyes out.” By now Pony was holding his own tear back.

Soda tugged Pony to his feet, escorting him back out to the living room.

Darry knocked lightly on your door.

“Hey bub, you alright?”

There was some soft rustling, then the door clicked open and you lunged into his arms.

 You’d always been Darry’s little girl, having his protection and adoration since birth. Pony had Soda, and you had Darry.

You babbled for a moment, before you cleared your throat with a few coughs.

“Deep breaths, it’s okay…”

“He cheated! He kissed another girl, Dar.” You sniffled again, your lip shaking and glistening threatening to leak again.

Five pairs of greaser ears perked from down the hall.

“He’s an idiot, sugar.”

“I know! I know! I should’ve listened to Pony and steered clear…”

Darry shook his head, wiping a tear from your cheek. “It ain’t your fault. Don’t go blaming yourself, and you better not apologise for anything, okay?”

You nodded, promptly burying your face into your brother’s shoulder.

Darry guided you back to bed, before he met back up with the gang.

“Ya know where he lives, Pony?”

Ponyboy nodded, hesitantly murmuring an address. “Blue car out front.”

The Curtis gang filed out of the house, aside from Ponyboy who volunteered to watch over you.

It was safe to say that you never paid Brian a second thought ever again.

~~

MMMMMMM HOPE YOU ENOYED <33

[ddejavvu]

I binge read your curtis!reader fics and was wondering if you could write a daughter!reader toddler where she is sick and how the gang like reacts and takes care of her? Thanks!!! Love your fics!

i miss curtis!reader <333

--

"She sneezed on me." Johnny grimaces, eyeing the sleeve of his jean jacket with disdain, "Darry, don't she know to cover her mouth?"

"She's three." Darry eyes Johnny exasperatedly, "And she's sicker'n hell. Leave her be."

"She's really burnin' up." Soda laments, his palm plastered over your forehead, "Babydoll, you want some water?"

"No," You whine, writhing beneath your mountain of blankets. You're down with a fever, but you've got the chills and you won't be convinced that the blankets are doing more harm than good.

"You need water." Darry insists firmly, passing a glass to Ponyboy, who's taken up residence behind Soda's chair at your bedside, "Water'll help you feel better."

"No, my throat hurts," Your whines turn to cries, and Two-Bit throws a hand over your legs buried under your covers, "I can't swallow!"

"Sure you can, kid." Dallas's grating voice comes from the doorway, the only place he's allowed to smoke so that he can blow it down the hallway and not into your already-tired lungs, "Come on, be a big girl, drink your water."

"Don't push'er, Dal," Soda croons, reaching for the toddler-shaped lump on your bed and scooping you into his arms, blankets and all, "Pony, come on and help her drink, would'ya?"

Ponyboy tries bumping the glass of water against your lips but you keep them firmly shut, squirming your flushed, feverish face into Soda's shoulder.

"No, come on, honey," He tries gently prying you away from his chest but you refuse, and it takes a third set of hands- Steve's - to keep your head steady and force you to drink.

It's heartbreaking, watching you fight through the infection that's drying out your throat and making you convulse with a fever and chills all at once. As soon as you've swallowed the last sip of water, Steve lets you go, his hands flying to his hips restlessly.

"Don't make me do that again." He warns, face pinched into a grimace at the memory of having to hold you down while you struggled, "Just- Jesus, come on and get better already, kid."

"She will." Darry promises, as much for their sake as for your own, as he takes you from Soda's grip. He ducks down to kiss your flushed forehead, letting you cry into his chest as your throat burns, "Clear out, boys. No use in crowding around."

They file out in silence, their typical rowdy behavior subdued in the muggy heat of your bedroom. Even over the threshold they stay gloomy, and Two-Bit reaches out to squeeze one of your tiny, socked feet as he leaves.

"Feel better, kiddo." He hums sadly, "'No fun around here without'cha."

[itshardtogetaaroundthewind]

Heavy Shoulders - Darry Curtis X Reader

AN: Sorry I didn't get a fic out like promised, I was sad and unmotivated to write, so I did a comfort fic with my fav cause it's what I needed! Send requests guys! Who do you want to see more of? Enjoy!

Darry rarely allowed himself to settle in. Even with you around, when he saw you doing dishes, he’d push you away. He’d tell you to relax, let him do it. Darrel was stubborn about it, giving you no other option but to let him wash the dishes. The tension sat permanently in the tight muscles of his back and the constant furrow of his brow.

It had built up for months; some days, he was irritable, and everything was a sharp comment from him. Whether it was an imperfection in Ponyboy’s homework or the radio static too loud in the living room, ending in unnecessary arguments.

You knew it was one of those days; 8 PM had ticked by, and Darry came bustling in. When he stumbled on a pair of shoes, you watched as a vein in his forehead nearly popped. “God damn it, Ponyboy Curtis…” you heard him mumble. You emerged from the kitchen, offering him a soft smile. “How was work, love?” you asked, trying to be there for him. Darry grunts as he sets his tool belt on the coat rack, lining up all the shoes in pristine order.  

“It was the same old, same old. My boss is giving me more hours, and my co-workers seem like they hardly know anything half the time!” he complained, his hands balled up in tight fists. You run a hand down his arm, nodding as you listen. “I made you a grilled cheese with some soup…” You offer, guiding him to the dining table where a single plate sat. Alone. Always the last one.

He sat down in front of the steaming plate. “Thank you… How was your day?” he asks, always remembering to check on his lady. Darry’s eyes trail up to your face as he brings the warm sandwich to his tongue. He lets out a soft hum. He was usually stuck making dinner since you always worked long, night shifts at the diner. Ponyboy and Soda rarely took initiative, so that left Darry. 

“Don’t worry about my day,” you say quietly, your hand running over his shoulders as you stand behind him while he eats. You fixed the collar of his shirt, even though it’d be in the laundry basket within the hour. “My job is to worry,” he replies with a soft smile. 

He rolls his shoulders in his chair, gritting his teeth as the pain rolls through his shoulder. Darry carried one too many bundles of roofing today, and now he was paying for it. 

You kiss his cheek, “Well, everybody needs a day off, even you,” you remind him. He gave you a grunt. You can’t help but stroke his hair; he wasn’t a man but a 20-year-old boy who grew up too fast. Darry was always pretending he was older than he was, but he wasn’t.

You saw him keep twitching; his shoulder was killing him, but he’d never say it out loud. “What’s wrong with your shoulders?” you ask, moving to rub them, gentle at first. You feel him tense as you push in a tender spot. “I don’t know… Just started hurtin’ real bad today,” he mumbles, taking another bite. You keep rubbing lightly, “How about you finish eating, take a nice hot shower, and then I’ll give you a massage?” 

He perks, turning to look at you. “You don’t have to, sweetheart, I’ll be okay…” The second he says it, he winces, trying to lift his arm. It’s subtle, but enough to make your chest ache with worry. Darry notices too, jaw tightening instantly like he’s embarrassed his body betrayed him. 

You scowl. “You always say that, like being taken care of is a burden,” you mumble. He speaks up to protest, but you cut him off. “You’re not okay, Darrel! And it’s okay to not be okay! Please, just let me help,” you beg. You almost sounded angry, but Darry knew it was because you loved him. He went quiet. 

The house was quiet, only the faint sound of the buzzing fridge and your voices were audible. He thought for a moment, staring down at his half-empty plate before looking back up at you. “A massage wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” he mumbled, finishing his sandwich quickly before going off to the bathroom for a shower. 

 You sat on the bed, listening to the familiar sound of the water running. When he emerged from the bathroom in sweatpants, he slowly got into bed, lying on his stomach. Finally, you had managed to get him in a relaxed state, in bed, his damp hair curling at the ends. Carefully, you sit on his lower back before applying cold lotion to his back, slowly rubbing it in with your thumbs. Darry’s breathing gets a bit heavier.

“There he is,” you whisper into the quiet of your bedroom, rubbing out a knot in his shoulders. “Hm?” his sleepy sound of confusion makes you smile as your practiced hands run up and down his warm skin. “The real boy I love so much. Not the one yellin’ about dishes and homework, and sighing at bills,” you say, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck before continuing to rub his back. 

He doesn’t say much, his face blank, even a little sad. After a long period of silence, he sighs, “I’m just so tired all the time,” he admits quietly.

The confession is so simple it nearly hurts worse. Sadness fell over both of you in a wave.

Your hands slowed against his shoulders; he made a small whine at the loss of contact. “You don’t have to carry everything alone anymore,” you whisper. “It’s why I moved in, Dar, to help you out. So let me. Okay?” you ask, watching his face for some kind of reaction. His face was blank at first before it crumbled with emotion; he shut his eyes hard, like he was in pain.

Nobody spoke now. You carefully slid off his back, watching him sit up, pulling you into his warm chest. His fingers found your hand and intertwined them, his forehead pressing to yours gently. “I don’t want you to burn out too; I know how it feels,” he paused, pulling away to look at you with sweet pleading eyes. “Stay..? I can’t do it without you,” he whispered, burying his face in your neck. 

Your heart nearly broke.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss into his hair, then his cheek. “Always, baby.”

You rolled out of his arms, lying next to him. You pulled the blankets up and cuddled up close to him, his arms locking around your waist, and he buried his face in the warmth of your chest. It wasn’t long before his breathing evened out, and you ran your nails gently up and down the skin of his back.

Only when he was sleeping did his shoulders finally relax, little by little, his breathing light.

For once, Darry let someone take care of him.

[callme-holly]

if you're still doing requests, can you do headcanons for how each member of the gang (separate) would react to their s/o pranking them with the monthly shed thing?Please and thank you!

MONTHLY SHED PRANK

in which the reader pulls the "monthly shed" prank on the gang and they fall for it. [fem!reader x the outsiders]

a/n: i wanted to try a different format to what I usually do - don't know if I like or not but, you know. I have 10 mins before i have to go back to revision so sorry if these are a little but crap. inbox is still open for requests!!

Darry Curtis - 

When you tell him, he is so concerned

He just stares at you, eyes wide, jaw practically on the floor

He immediately starts asking if you’re okay and if you need anything 

Will 100% fall for it

He immediately goes to Sodapop and asks if it’s true because if anyone knows about girls, it the middle Curtis brother

When Soda is just as confused as Darry, he will probably finally catch on 

He was very worried for you though <33

Sodapop Curtis - 

He’s so sweet about it and will genuinely believe you

He’ll sit on the counter and watch as you “peel your skin” while asking as many questions as possible

“So are girls like lizards?” 

You bet he’s bringing it up at dinner and when he does, Darry and Pony just stare at you with confusion

Soda will keep on eating as if he’s just dropped the most casual news ever

In the end, when he doesn’t catch on to the joke, you’ll probably have to tell him the truth

He’ll be very confused, and will most likely continue to believe that you shed your skin every month

Ponyboy Curtis - 

When he catches you “peeling your skin” he’s actually horrified

Like he isn’t disgusted, not at all, but why the hell is all your skin peeling off and should he get Darry to drive you to the hospital

He won’t really say much on the topic, but will definitely ask his science teacher next time he has class

His teacher gives him the most baffled expression ever and he immediately catches on 

He’s so embarrassed when he gets home 

He doesn’t mention it to anyone, not even to you, and if it ever gets brought up, he’s changing the topic immediately

Johnny Cade - 

Oh, Johnny

He is so worried when you tell him that your skin peels every month

He gets a little concerned that his skin might peel too

He’ll watch from a safe distance when you “shed your skin” 

The next time he sees Dallas, he questions it and his buddy just laughs in his face and asks if he feeling okay

He probably won't catch onto the joke until you tell him

Johnny isn’t stupid, but he will almost certainly believe anything you tell him so when you break the news to him and tell him that you were only kidding, he’s very relieved

Dallas Winston - 

He’s so disgusted and probably won't come anywhere near you

Genuinely very confused and won’t believe you at first

“I aint seen no other girl do that, man”

After you “peel your skin” in front of him though 

He is out of that door faster than you can blink

He goes to the gang and he’s just horrified 

Darry will probably be the one to break the truth to him 

He’d be fuming and he’d probably give you the silent treatment until you apologise to him (he’s stubborn and childish like that) 

Was secretly a tiny bit concerned about you but he’d never admit it

Steve Randle - 

Now this is tricky

Steve would probably be concerned and a little freaked out

He’d ask to make sure you’re okay and if you’re hurt at all every few minutes 

He genuinely just really cares about you <33 

However, that’s not to say he isn’t incredibly freaked out

You’re literally shedding your skin in his bathroom and acting as if it’s a normal thing

In the end you’d probably feel bad and you’d have to break the truth to him

He’s still a little confused but he just sort of forgets about the whole thing the next day

Two-Bit Mathews - 

I won’t lie; he’ll find it funny as hell

He’d take every chance he can get to crack a joke about you “shedding your skin”

Much like Soda, he’ll sit and watch you before asking if you’re a snake

“So, does that mean women are reptiles?” // “No, Two…” 

I can’t see him being disgusted by it and it probably wouldn’t take all that long for him to catch on

Overall, he finds the whole thing hilarious and will probably keep making lizard jokes to you for the next week or so

[callme-holly]

hiii! can u write headcannons for the greasers when you are on your period?

𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 [𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝.]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - So sorry for my inconsistency when it comes to requests - I'm not working in any particular order but I will get to them all eventually! Anyway hope y'all enjoy and as always asks are still open for requests

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 901 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none

Darry Curtis - 

Darry would be so caring towards you, oh my lord.

If you need something, you best believe he is going to get it for you, among many other things. 

If you’re suffering with bad cramps, he will gladly lay with you and hold you for as long as you need him to. 

If the boys are bugging you in any way, shape or form, he is telling them to lay off and keeping you as far away from them as possible. He knows how annoying they can be first hand and the last thing you need right now is them all up in your face. 

He will come home from work during his breaks just to check on you and make sure you have everything you need; heat pad, blankets, snacks, entertainment. 

Sodapop Curtis - 

Much like his brother, Soda is super caring and sweet. 

He will go out and buy you everything you could possibly need; chocolate, medicine, you name it, babe, he’s getting it for you. 

Will take hot baths and showers with you after work. 

This boy will cuddle with you all day if that was what you wanted, hell, he’d take the day off work just to spend time taking care of you. 

If you’ve got cramps, he feels super guilty. He hates seeing you in pain and hates knowing that he can’t help you even more. 

Strongly believes that kisses will “cure” you and will shower you with attention until you’re feeling slightly better. 

Ponyboy Curtis - 

Pony doesn’t know much about periods other than the fact that you can get pretty damn moody. 

He tries his hardest to understand what you’re going through, but eventually he freaks out and has to ask Darry for help. 

If you need him to get you something, he will go into the store with the full intention of buying only the items you requested only to panic and buy almost every single product he could find. 

If you’ve got bad cramps, he’ll do his best to make you feel better. He’ll do whatever you need him to do but, in the end, he’ll just lay down and read to you until you fall asleep. 

Johnny Cade - 

Johnny is the sweetest. 

He gets so concerned about you and hates seeing you in any sort of pain/discomfort. 

If you’re sad, he’s sad. 

You want him to get you something? Medicine, chocolate, blankets? No problem, sweetheart, just sit tight and he’ll get it in no time at all. 

If you’ve particularly irritable, he tends to stay out of the way for a little while. He doesn't wanna upset you and he also doesn’t wanna get yelled at by you. 

He’ll cuddle with you for ages. When I tell you he isn’t letting go until you do, I mean it. 

If you’ve got bad cramps, he’ll lay with you and rub your stomach until they pass. 

He’s also not opposed to running you a warm bath if that’s what helps you.

Dallas Winston - 

When I tell you this boy knows nothing about periods, I mean it. His knowledge is very limited; he knows you get pretty moody and that’s about it. 

He’ll try to stay out of your way the best he can because when you’re on your period you kind of scare him. 

Once you snapped at him for being a pain in the ass and he never tried to bug you again. Instead, he went to find the gang and was like “damn, women can be scary sometimes, man.” 

He definitely showers with you but for all the wrong reasons. 

If your cramps are particularly bad he’ll get you blankets and will sit with you until they pass.

Either that or he’ll panic and call Darry. He does not know how to deal with this shit. 

Is definitely the type of person to say “can’t you just hold it?” 

Steve Randle - 

He’ll either take you to work with him or take the day off so that you’re not alone. 

He’ll let you sit in his lap whilst he rubs your back and presses soft kisses to your lips and forehead.

He’s actually so sweet to you. 

Will gladly feed you chocolate cake (he might steal a few bites too). 

Much like Soda, he has no problem taking hot showers with you if that’s what helps you to relax.

He will bring back whatever you want from the DX, just ask him and he’ll get it for you. 

If your cramps are particularly bad, he’ll just hold you until they pass. His comforting skills aren’t the greatest but he tries his best and we love him for it <333

Two-Bit Mathews - 

He tries to stay out of your way if you’re particularly irritable. He learnt the hard way not to bug you when you’re on your period and he vowed never to tease you again. 

He’ll cuddle up with you on the couch and you two will just watch TV together. 

Much like Steve, he has no problem feeding you chocolate cake, although he might end up eating the vast majority of it. 

Will pepper your face with kisses, claiming that it’s the only cure to your discomfort. 

If your cramps are bad, he’ll get you a heat pack and will do anything in his will to make you feel better. It doesn’t matter how ridiculous your requests may be, he will do it for you. 

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[jamesdeanbby]

hiiii!!! can i request for a cade!reader x dally?

something like the drive in (just like that scene in the movie) and reader comes to pick johnny up, and dally, since it's the first time he sees johnny's sister, starts flirting with her?

────۶ৎ friday at the drive in

or in other words, Dallas Winston meeting his best buddy's older sister!

warnings : dallas being a flirt.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: dallas is such a silly goofer, i love him lol

The projector hums in the distance, spilling flickering light over the rows of cracked seats. It smells like cigarettes and cheap cola and that strange sweetness summer air carries just before everything goes wrong. Dallas Winston is leaning back, a crooked smirk on his face, boots kicked up, teasing Cherry Valance like it’s a sport he invented.

Johnny’s squirming in his seat beside Dally, looking more and more like he wants to disappear into the floor. He can feel it coming, that boiling embarrassment and discomfort that always trails Dally like a stray dog.

But then—your headlights sweep across the gravel.

You're standing by your rusted old car, arms crossed, wearing a t-shirt that hugs your shape and jeans that scream you don’t take anyone’s crap. You’ve got that same wide-eyed edge as Johnny. Same dark lashes, same sad softness under your tough shell. But you’re taller, older, prettier.

Dallas sees you.

And in that second, he forgets all about Cherry.

He whistles low, slow. “Well, well, well. Who’s the dame?”

Johnny blinks up, startled—then relaxes. “That’s my sister. She came to get me.”

Dally's grin sharpens like a blade.

“That your sister?” he repeats, voice dropping like honey over gravel. “Why didn’t you tell me you had somethin’ that pretty hidin’ in your house, Johnnycakes?” He stands, brushes imaginary dust off his jeans, and saunters over to you.

You raise an eyebrow, arms still folded. “You Dally Winston?”

“Guilty,” he purrs, already in your space, bold as can be. “And you’re…?” He steps in too close, fingers brushing a piece of your hair off your shoulder, twirling it slow around his finger. “...trouble. I can tell.”

Johnny mutters, half under his breath, “Dal, c’mon, quit it…”

But Dally ignores him. He leans in, lips brushing close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “A girl like you don’t belong pickin’ up strays. You should be ridin’ shotgun with someone who can really show you a good time.”

You glance at Johnny, then back at Dally with a glare that could freeze fire. “You harass every girl your friend’s related to, or am I just special?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dally grins wider, loving every second of your sass. “You’re real special.”

He tries to tug at your belt loop, cocky and testing. That playful leer of his doesn't break, even as Johnny groans and covers his face.

“Dally, please, that’s my sister.”

You plant a hand on Dally’s chest, firm and cool, stopping him cold. “Keep your hands to yourself, cowboy.”

And Dally? Oh, he laughs. He laughs like you just handed him the best challenge of his life.

“Feisty. I like that.”

You smirk, tilting your head. “You flirt with all the girls, or just the ones you can’t handle?”

He steps back, mock offended, hand to his chest. “Oh, sweetheart, I can handle you just fine.”

You toss Johnny a look. “You ready to go?”

Johnny nods, embarrassed, relieved, and more than a little amused. “Yeah. Before he starts getting real about it.”

As you walk off with your brother, Dally watches with a toothpick between his teeth and a whole new gleam in his eye. He hollers after you:

“See you around, Miss Cade. Don’t be shy—I like my girls mean!”

And you don’t even look back, but your hand lifts lazily, a single middle finger raised like a kiss blown backwards.

“I know you like me, doll!”

[jamesdeanbby]

Omgg can we get more of Cade!reader if you're not busy?? xx

────۶ৎ "that's my sister!"

Johnny is not thrilled that his best mate is trying to get in his sister's pants..

warnings : dallas being a feral flirt.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: AHHH I LOVE THIS TROPEE

The screen door creaks open like it’s mourning, and then bang—there’s a body slumped in the frame. Leather jacket torn. Jeans streaked with blood. Dally Winston, all swagger and smoke and sporting a busted lip, staggers in like the devil got kicked outta Hell and landed on your porch.

Johnny’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, flipping through some battered comic, and he jumps to his feet the second he sees that familiar silhouette. “Dal?!”

But Dally just groans, dragging himself into the hallway. “Hey, Johnnycake...”

Then he sees you.

Your hair’s tied up, loose strands falling into your face. You’re barefoot in soft shorts and an old t-shirt that says “cowgirl” in cracked red letters across the chest. You pause, wide-eyed in the kitchen doorway.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rushing to him. “What the hell happened to you?”

Dallas leans on the wall, smirking despite the split in his lip. “Nothin’ a kiss from you wouldn’t fix, sweetheart.”

Johnny groans behind you. “Oh my god.”

You ignore them both and help Dally onto the couch, careful not to jostle the shoulder that’s turning blue. He lets you touch him without flinching, watching you with those stormy eyes like he’s trying to burn you into his memory.

You go to get the first-aid kit, and when you come back, he’s slouched with his legs spread wide, arms thrown along the couch back, watching you like you’re his favorite sin.

“Take your shirt off,” you say simply, setting down gauze and alcohol.

Dallas whistles low. “If I had a nickel every time a pretty girl said that…”

You slap the alcohol bottle against his knee, hard enough to make him flinch. “Shirt. Off.”

He grins like it’s Christmas and peels off the bloodied leather, then his t-shirt, revealing bruises and gashes all over his chest. Johnny folds his arms and leans against the wall, trying not to gag from the pure horn-dog energy radiating off his best friend.

You start dabbing at the wounds, focused and gentle.

Dally hisses. “Mmm—thought you’d be rougher with me, sweetheart.”

“She’s patching you up, not seducing you, jackass,” Johnny mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I dunno,” Dallas purrs, eyes on your lips as you bite them in concentration. “Feels real intimate.”

You glance at Johnny over your shoulder. “You want me to kick him out?”

Johnny shrugs. “Nah, let him bleed out.”

Dally grins, teeth all stained red, and grabs your wrist as you wipe his collarbone.

His voice drops, almost quiet. “You always this good with your hands, babe?”

You freeze for a second, your cheeks heating, and Johnny groans audibly. “DAL. That’s my SISTER.”

“So?” Dally smirks. “She ain’t complainin’.”

You rip your wrist out of his grip with a glare. “Try that again, and I’ll pour the alcohol in your mouth instead.”

“Ooh, kinky,” he says with a wink.

Johnny throws a pillow at his head. “Get OUT, man. Go die in the alley or somethin’.”

But Dally won’t leave. He watches you work like he’s found religion. You wrap his ribs, tape his shoulder, wipe the blood from under his nose. Every now and then, he shifts closer than necessary: his knee bumps yours, his fingers graze your thigh, his eyes never leave your face.

“You're a real angel, y’know that?” he murmurs, low and hoarse.

You sigh. “You're not even bleeding that bad. Just drunk and full of yourself.”

He smiles, slow and sleepy. “Still thinkin’ about that kiss, doll.”

Johnny lets out a noise like a dying animal. “DAL!”

Dallas laughs, tossing his head back against the couch, and smirks at Johnny from under half-lidded eyes. “What? She’s legal.”

You slap a bandage across his chest extra hard.

He hisses—then moans. “God, I love her.”

Johnny looks to the ceiling. “I swear to god, I'm gonna drown you in peroxide.”

You finish bandaging him, shaking your head with a half-laugh, half-sigh. “You’re impossible.”

Dally tilts his head, voice low and dirty: “Baby, you have no idea.”

And Johnny, poor Johnny, just grabs a soda from the fridge and mutters, “I hate my life.”

[jamesdeanbby]

hihi sweets! 🌟 i've recently began following you and i am absolutely OBSESSED with your writing! it's soso gorgeous and i cannot get enough of it! (also, your account is also so stunning like hello?? 😋) sorry, anyhoo! i was wondering if you should write about brunette curly hair!reader x dallas winston, where the reader has curly hair but is kinda self conscious of it? where she straightens it or hides it and no one really knows she has curly hair, until one day she just can't be bothered to deal with it, leaving it all natural. she makes an off hand comment to dallas, which he takes as a stab to the heart because he is just smitten and thinks her hair is absolutely beautiful— sorry this was so long! 😭 LOVE YA! 💝

────۶ৎ lay me down in my linen and curls

or dallas winston truly seeing his girl, hair and all, for the first time!

warnings : none!<3

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: AAAAHHHH GIRL I LVOE THIS IM ALSO A CURLY BRUNETTE GIRL FR.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.

Not with your curls in full rebellion, frizzed out like a halo of soft chocolate brown that kissed your shoulders, neck, cheeks—all of it loud and proud in the open air. You never wore it like this. Not outside. Not even really inside, unless you were bone-tired, comforted by the safety of your own four walls.

Your straightener sat unplugged on your dresser, untouched for the first time in weeks. You hadn’t planned on going anywhere. Certainly hadn’t planned on anyone dropping by.

Especially not him.

“Yo, babe—you home?” Dallas’s voice came before the knock, rough and cocky and way too early for your brain to process.

You sat up so fast you nearly knocked over the glass of water on your nightstand. No no no no. You scrambled to throw on a hoodie, tried in vain to flatten your hair with your palm, but it bounced right back up, smug and wild and full of attitude.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Dallas Winston. With his black jacket, cigarette behind his ear, and that stupid little smirk he wore like armor.

“I knocked, princess. You just didn’t answer, so I figured you were in here cryin’ over me or somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging your hood up halfway. “You coulda called, y’know.”

“And ruin the surprise? C’mon. That’s no fun.”

He leaned in, ready to kiss you like he always did: quick, sharp, like lighting a match.. but he paused.

Brows pulled together. Eyes scanned your face. Then… he blinked.

“…Your hair, man.”

You immediately froze. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It’s just… like this. Naturally. I didn’t— I wasn’t gonna see anyone today.”

Your voice was too quick, too breathy, too small.

You didn’t mean for the next part to slip, but it did. Quiet. Dismissive. Defensive.

“Looks kinda dumb, I know.”

Silence.

That was when something in Dallas snapped.

“What?”

He looked like you just punched him in the stomach.

“What the hell do you mean it looks dumb, man?”

You flinched, a little overwhelmed, trying to tug your hood back on. “I dunno. It’s just always been big and frizzy and hard to deal with. People said it was too much. So I straighten it. Like… all the time. You’ve never even seen it like this.”

Dallas stepped forward slow, like you were some rare piece of art behind velvet rope.

He reached out. His fingers brushed one of the curls near your temple. Then he did it again. And again.

“…You’ve been hiding this from me, man?”

Your face burned. “Dal—”

But he groaned, like something was physically hurting him. “God, baby. You look so damn good. I mean, damn.”

And then he was all over you—grinning like a fiend, hands in your curls, twirling a strand around his finger before giving it a playful tug. You let out the tiniest squeak and he lit up like Christmas.

“There it is,” he laughed. “That little squeaky sound. I love that.”

“Dallas!”

“What? You’re adorable. It’s illegal to look this cute and not let me see it.”

You tried to back away but he just followed, practically pinning you to the edge of the bed, still playing with your hair like it was his new favorite toy.

“No wonder you kept this secret,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “You walk around lookin’ like this all the time, I’ll be startin’ fights in the street just to keep the other guys away.”

You swatted his arm, half-laughing, half-mortified.

“Stop it. I look like a lion.”

“You look like mine,” he said without missing a beat. “And if anyone says different, I’ll deck ‘em.”

His hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes, and his voice softened.

“Don’t ever hide this shit from me again, alright? I love your curls, man.”

You melted right then and there. No straightener, no filter, no armor. Just you and him and the way he made you feel like you were made of stars instead of split ends.

And that night?

You let him tangle his fingers in your curls as you fell asleep on his chest—no shame, no fear, just warmth and the quiet thrum of belonging.

[jamesdeanbby]

HII!! Ily your writing sm and after reading your “dog days are over” and “stray mutts” fic, I have a silly lil idea:

Dallas, as hinted at in the fic, has both licked and/or bitten reader, so I feel like a quick lil fic about such a situation would be rlly cute! Like reader is just tryna help Darry cook dinner or something and dally just comes up behind her and bites her and she just stares at him like he’s crazy (but we all know she likes it;))

────۶ৎ he bites!

or the reason why you are constantly calling dallas a mutt

warnings : dallas being a (loving) menace.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: dallas is so silly i love him.

The house smelled like garlic bread and trouble.

You were in Darry’s kitchen wearing one of his late mother's aprons —pastel yellow with tiny embroidered cherries, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the Curtis house— and trying very hard to help him prep dinner without getting sauce on your skirt. Darry was chopping onions with the intensity of a man who had something to prove.

You, meanwhile, were stirring spaghetti sauce and humming something soft. The scene was almost normal. Almost.

Until you felt it.

You were stirring like a good little helper, soft curls pinned back and your perfume all sugary and warm, humming something Elvis-y under your breath, when—

CHOMP.

Right on your shoulder. Through your shirt. Teeth. Actual teeth.

You froze. Spoon mid-air. Jaw slack.

“What the hell—”

You turned your head very slowly and saw Dallas Winston standing behind you like he hadn’t just bitten into your shoulder like it was a steak. His arms were loose around your waist, chin still resting where his mouth just mauled you, eyes all smug and puppy-bright.

“...Did you just bite me?”

He grinned.

“Couldn’t help it, man.”

“You’re not a dog, Dally.”

“Could be,” he said, now mouthing at your neck like he was about to start chewing again. “You smell good.”

You looked at Darry, who was at the sink and pointedly ignoring what was clearly some kind of feral foreplay happening behind him.

You sighed, dragging the spoon through the sauce like this was just another Thursday. It was.

“Dallas, for god's sake, I am trying to make dinner.”

“I know.” He kissed your ear this time, less bite, more sugar. “You’re doin’ such a good job, I had to give you a reward.”

“By biting me?”

He pulled back enough to look at you, smirking with that lazy, crooked grin that made you forget how to stand sometimes.

“You like it.”

You definitely did. But that wasn’t the point.

You turned around in his arms, letting your spoon clatter into the pot. Your arms wrapped around his neck, apron crinkling as your chest pressed into his.

“You bite me again and I’m gonna put you in a kennel,” you warned sweetly.

He leaned in like he was about to do it again—eyes glittering, lips brushing your jaw.

“You promise?”

From the sink, Darry groaned. “Jesus Christ, can't you wait until after dinner to start gnawin’ on the only person who's actually helpin’ me?”

Dallas looked unbothered. You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose and whispered, “Sit, boy.”

And to everyone’s shock—including yours—he did.

[jamesdeanbby]

HEYY !! i have a request for dallas x cade!reader (because i read all ur fics more than once and im obsessed 😔)

basically reader come home late from work or smth to see that dally stayed with johnny while she was gone. she tells johnny to go to bed then pull dally outside and is like “you strayed with him all night?” and he’s just being shameless like “i could stay with you all night too 😼” but she’s actually very appreciative, maybe she gives him a hug or kiss in thanks 😛

idk just smth cute because i love them. AND I CANT EXPLAIN ANYTHING FOR SHIT SO I HOPE THIS MADE SENSE 😭

(also sry if u get this twice i can’t remember if i alr sent it in or not 😅)

────۶ৎ nighttime company

or the time dallas actually got a kiss for a thank you

warnings : vague reference to the canon-typical violence.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: omfg i love the cade!reader trope. also 'mutt' is my new favourite term to refer to dallas. SORRY IT'S SO SHORT OMFG IM SO EMBARASSED.

You get home past midnight, work weighing heavy on your shoulders like your coat. The apartment is quiet except for the low murmur of a radio in Johnny’s room.

You toe your shoes off and peek in, heart melting at the sight—Johnny curled up in bed, a comic drooping from his hand. And there, sitting backwards in a chair beside him, arms crossed over the top like a restless dog, is.. Dallas Winston?

His head turns when he hears you, the usual crooked grin already tugging at his lips.

“You’re late, sweetheart.”

You whisper-yell, “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Kid had a rough time. Didn’t wanna leave ‘im alone.”

Your eyes flicker from Johnny’s relaxed face to the empty cup of water on the nightstand, to the neatly folded blanket at the edge of the bed. Dally doesn’t do "neat." That was for Johnny.

You step in quietly and brush your fingers through Johnny’s hair, coaxing the comic from his grip and setting it aside.

“G’night, baby,” you murmur. “I’m home now.”

He doesn’t even stir. You kiss his forehead, then tug Dallas out into the hallway by the sleeve of his jacket.

Out in the soft hum of the porchlight, you fold your arms and whisper: “You stayed with him all night?”

Dally shrugs again, that grin still in place. “He was cryin’ about somethin’. I dunno. Figured I’d keep him company.”

You narrow your eyes, trying not to melt.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

He leans in, close enough for you to smell the smoke and cheap leather, and smirks. “I could stay with you all night too, y’know.”

You roll your eyes, but your hands find his jacket, tugging him closer.

“I bet you could.”

He opens his mouth—probably to say something wildly inappropriate—but you cut him off with a kiss. It’s soft and lingering, your thumb brushing under the leather at his collar, your heart pulsing with quiet gratitude.

When you part, he looks dazed.

“I sure as hell ain’t leavin’ now, dollface” he says, voice a little lower.

“I didn’t ask you to,” you whisper, pulling him back inside.

And he follows—like a mutt with his tail tucked, pretending he doesn’t like being kept.

[jamesdeanbby]

────۶ৎ hurricane

or... dallas realizing that being in a relationship with someone whose mental health more-often-than-not is balanced on his actions means he needs to take responsibility for what he got himself into.

warnings : reader has BPD, domestic abuse mentioned, curse/cuss words, active fighting.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: yeah so.. i've been having a hard time so i'm writting this out because the bad aspect of BPD is very rarely portrayed in any fics!.

♱ *ೃ.⋆

Johnny knew something had shifted the second your eyes lost their shine.

It had started at Buck’s party.

You’d been standing maybe three feet away from Dally, trying to hold a normal conversation with Johnny—talking about something dumb, like what song was playing or if he thought Cherry wore falsies. But your voice had trailed off mid-sentence when you saw Dallas, beer bottle in hand, that cocky smirk on his face, leaning against the wall between two girls.

His arm brushed one’s bare shoulder, the other was twirling his chain necklace with her manicured fingers. He was eating it up, lips curling, shoulders loose, letting them giggle into his collar like he wasn’t someone’s boyfriend.

Like he wasn’t yours.

Johnny turned to look at you, right as the glitter in your eyes vanished like a blown-out candle.

He saw it: that internal snap. Like the glass of your calm cracked, then shattered.

And he didn’t say anything, just offered you the rest of his Coke with a worried glance and a quiet, “You okay?”

You weren’t.

You didn’t say a word and just left the whole way back to your house.

Dallas didn’t even realize you were upset, nor that you had left. He stumbled in, half-drunk and loud, dropping his leather jacket on the floor and kicking off his boots like it was just any other Friday.

"That party was a drag," he muttered, not even looking your way.

You were standing by the window with your arms crossed tight over your chest. Your hands were shaking.

“Yeah?” Your voice was quiet. Too quiet.

Dally finally looked at you. “What’s eatin’ you?”

You didn’t answer.

“I didn’t even drink that much,” he added, trying to joke, flashing that sideways grin like that would fix it. “You're lookin’ at me like I kicked your dog or somethin’.”

You turned around then, slow and deliberate. And when you spoke, it was venom.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, voice rising. “Was I supposed to be okay watching you hang all over those girls like some mutt in heat?”

Dallas blinked. “Jesus Christ, babe. You know it didn’t mean nothin’.”

“You don’t get to do that. Not when you’re mine.”

He scoffed. “I was just messin’ around. Hell, I didn’t even touch them like that—”

“You had her hand on your necklace, Dallas.” Your eyes were wide, wild now. “You let them touch you. Like I don’t even exist.”

He rolled his eyes, stepping forward. “C’mon, doll. Don’t do this—”

“Don’t touch me!” you snapped, flinching when he reached for your arm. You backed away like his skin burned.

Dally’s face dropped, something crumpling behind his eyes.

“You flirted with them like I was nothing,” your voice cracked, “and I came home and my dad hit me. And you—you were supposed to be the one place that didn’t hurt.”

His smirk was long gone. “Wait, your old man—?”

“IT DOESN'T MATTER!”

You were unraveling now, the room too hot, your heart too loud, your thoughts racing like wildfire. “I give you everything, Dally. My time, my energy, my love- fuck-I would’ve let you carve your name into my skin if it made you stay.”

“Hey,” he said softly. “Doll. c’mon—”

“You never think about me! I wait for you. I fix you. I patch you up when you come home broken and bleeding and I don’t ask you for anything back!”

“You’re askin’ now,” he said, but it wasn’t smug anymore. It was confused. Scared.

“I want to feel safe!” you screamed. “But I don’t know who you’re gonna be! One day you’re mine and the next you’re some sleazy asshole with two blondes on your hip—”

“Jesus-”

“—and I never know what version of me you’re gonna like that day, so I change it! I change everything! I laugh more. I speak less. I act like I’m fine when I’m fucking falling apart, and it’s still NOT ENOUGH!”

You were shaking. Sobbing now. Your hands clawing at your own arms like you wanted to tear your skin off just to feel something else.

Dallas just stood there, stunned. His mouth opened. Then closed.

You were already pacing.

No, not pacing. Storming. Back and forth, fast. Like a stormcloud on legs. Your feet slammed the tile with every step and your fingers wouldn’t stop twitching at your sides: picking at your sleeves, yanking at your own hair, pressing to your temples like maybe you could stop yourself from going nuclear if you just squeezed hard enough.

Dallas tried, like an idiot, to reach for you.

“Babe—”

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

You shrieked it. It exploded out of your throat so violently that Dallas flinched back like he got shot. His hand dropped mid-air, and he just stared at you.

You were panting. Chest rising and falling in huge, shaky breaths. Your voice was wrecked and raw, your lips bitten red. “Don’t you fucking call me that either.”

He opened his mouth like he’s gonna argue, but you beat him to it—slamming your hand down on the table so hard it made a noise like thunder.

“I saw you, Dallas!” you scream, eyes glassy with betrayal. “Flirting with those girls! You- I was right there. Three feet away, right there, and you didn’t even look at me!”

“Jesus, baby-”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” You grabbed the dish towel off the counter and threw it—at him, aiming at his head, like you had too much anger to burn and nowhere to put it. He ducked “You don’t get to call me pet names after what you pulled!”

Dally ran a hand down his face, exasperated. “It was nothin’.”

You laughed.

You laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. Your hands were shaking now. Your voice breaking into pieces. “You’re always saying it’s nothin’. But it’s always somethin’, isn’t it, Dally? It’s always something and I’m always just supposed to—what? Take it?”

Your eyes locked onto him. Bloodshot. Wild.

“I’m not a saint, Dallas,” you whispered, shaking. “I’m not Cherry fucking Valance. I’m not some sweet, stable, nice girl you can take home and charm. I’m me. And you knew that. You knew that and you promised you could handle it-”

“I can, baby-”

“NO! YOU CAN'T! You can’t, Dally, and you won’t, and now I’m the one falling apart and I don’t even know what’s real anymore-!”

You were crying by then. Heaving, messy sobs. Clutching your own head in your hands. The carpet scattered with a mess of things you threw—your notebook, your shoes, a cracked ashtray.

And Dally looked like he didn't know whether to bolt or beg.

So he dared a step closer.

“Sweetheart.”

You spinned on him like a mad thing. “No. Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me.”

Your hands were shaking again. Your lips trembling.

He saw it—that flicker in your expression. That shift. That wide-eyed panic when you realize how loud you’ve gotten. That flash of regret. But it’s buried under layers and layers of rage and confusion and pain, and you’re not letting him in. You refuse to.

So he takes another step. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do.” You’re backing up now. Bumping into the wall, arms crossed over your chest. “I hate you. I hate you, Dallas Winston. I hate that I fell for you, I hate that I let you in, I hate—”

He closed the distance fast.

You SHRIEKED when he tried to hug you. Or, what must've felt to you in that very moment: cage you. “BACK THE FUCK OFF!!!”

Dallas halted. Dead in his tracks.

“STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!!” And you were screaming again. And it wasn't just angry—it was terrified. Your whole body was trembling. You were sobbing, cheeks streaked, hair clinging to your wet face. “You don’t get to touch me like I’m yours. I’m not your problem. I never was.”

Dallas didn't say anything.

He didn't move.

He just stood there, jaw clenched, fists white-knuckled at his sides, breathing like he just got punched in the ribs.

“…You done?”

You sniffed. Wiped your nose with the back of your hand. It came away shaking.

“I can’t do this, Dally,” you whispered.

He just stared.

Then—quiet. Too quiet:

“Yeah. You can.”

You shook your head. “I’m crazy. You said so yourself. You always joke about it with the boys. I heard you.”

“Don’t.” His voice tightened. “Don’t you dare twist that—”

“I’m the crazy bitch who throws shit, screams, changes her mind five times in five minutes—”

“Stop it.”

“I’m not stable, Dally! I’m not sweet or cute or easy—I’m hell, and I drag everyone down with me!”

“I chose you!” Dally barksed finally raising his voice. His whole face going red. “I fucking chose you, didn’t I?”

You flinched.

Silence.

Then, in a whisper:

“Yeah. For now.” And Dallas went still. You looked up at him, face wrecked, eyes wide and wet. “But you’ll leave. Everyone leaves.”

He didn't say anything, just looked down at his boots. You were breathing hard. When he finally spoke again, it was low.

“You really think I’d ditch you after all this time?”

You said nothing.

Dally huffed. “You think I give a shit that you screamed at me? You think I can’t handle a few broken glasses and slammed doors?”

You glanced away.

He stepped back, then—finally giving you space. Finally listening. His jaw flexing like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. He just nodded.

“Fine. I’ll sit right here,” he muttered, dragging a chair across the floor and slumping down. “And I won’t move. Five feet away, like you said. I won’t touch you. Won’t talk unless you want me to. But I ain’t leavin’. So get used to it.”

You stared.

Your mouth trembled again. Like you wanedt to argue. Like you needed to. But instead, you just collapsed onto the kitchen floor. Arms wrapped around your knees. Head pressed to your arms.

Dallas watched from his chair.

His voice came, quiet. Hoarse.

“I don’t care if you’re a hurricane,” he said. “I’ve always liked ’em”

You made a small, wet sound. Half-sob, half-laugh. Neither of you said anything else. So he just sits there, five feet away. And watches you cry.

Still. Present. Listening.

And for now… that's enough.

[callme-holly]

OKAY OKAY OKAY

so my idea is pretty much darry x reader where reader is helping take care of pony boy while he’s sick, and darry gets like baby fever just watching her be all motherly and sweet while treating pony

just something cute and fluffy, please and thank you !!

(i feel like i see less and less darry writings every day and i love him so 😞💔)

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐲 - 𝐃.𝐂

||۶ৎ in which darry catches your taking care of pony and knows you're going to make a great mama

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

The house was strangely quiet when Darry stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a click that seemed to echo off the walls, emphasising the silence and drawing out an ebbing concern. 

The TV was playing low in the background, some commercial for a hair product no one would ever buy, and then—sweet, seraphic, gentle—your voice drifted down the hall, humming a tune he’d only ever heard mothers sing to their children.

He followed the sound like a moth would follow the light of a flame, pushing open the door to Pony’s bedroom and stopping short the moment his eyes registered the sight before him.

You were kneeling by the edge of the bed, fingers gently carding through Pony’s fever-slicked curls, eyes solemn. 

“Hey…” 

You glanced up sharply, expression melting into one that was indelible—filled with such a love that it made Darry’s heart stutter.

“Hi,” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake the lucid boy beside you. “How was work?” 

Darry could only manage a shrug, ignoring the ache in his shoulders as he did so,  his discomfort irrefragable. “It was work. Busy.” 

You nod, opening your mouth to respond, only to turn sharply the moment Pony shifts, a small noise leaving him. He looked entirely marcid, and it broke Darry to see his little brother in such a state… But at the same time, seeing you taking care of him…

“You’re good at this.” The sound of Darry’s boots thumped against the hardwood floor as he stepped towards you, a groan leaving him as he sank down to his knees, hands  coming to rest on the side of the mattress. 

“I tried my best.” The smile yu gave him was guileless, tinted with exhaustion. “He’s… He’s getting better.” 

And as if to emphasise your point, your hand reaches for the rag on the side table, wiping it across his brow, ridding him of any remnant of the fever. 

Your touch is so tender, filled with such a fondness, that Darry swore something in his chest shifted, something cracking open and bearing a craving so raw that it frightened even him. 

“You’re going to make a great mom…” 

The words were out before he could even register them in his brain, spoken with such confidence, such casualness, that he might as well have been telling you the weather. But the way your hand stilled spoke volumes, and you turned to him slowly, brows furrowed.

“What?” 

Darry swallowed thickly. “I mean it.” 

His voice was low, a little hoarse, but genuine nonetheless. “You’re really good with him. And I’ve been thinkin’ about that kind of stuff more lately.” 

You didn’t say anything, just waited. Patient. Expectant. 

“I see you like this, sweetheart, and hell. It does something to me. Makes me wonder what it’d be like to come home to something steady. Real…” 

“Is that what you want?” You mumbled, finally setting the rag aside, turning your body entirely to face him. You don’t look upset, not in the slightest, and maybe that's what fuels him on.

He nodded. “With you? Yeah. Maybe not now. But eventually.” 

And for the first time that night, the tension in his jaw eased, the concern in your eyes dimmed just a little, and you leaned in just enough to press a feather-light kiss to his jaw. 

“Eventually…” 

||۶ৎ darry masterlist

||۶ৎ tag list. @mrsdillonx , @goingdelux18 , @princesshailierawr , @r0seb100d , @groovydonutpost, @rizzraa , @sheepandlams , @marinefreaakk , @sugarrootwrites , @marilyn-girly , @itonlyhastobetruetoday , @dairyfairyy , @williamafton26 , @mystiqueonfleek007 , @atpeacee , @theoneandonly-vrg , @hge-cok , @warped-rabbithole , @muu-5uvii , @fatalloveanddevotion , @marianaissocool , @jamesdeanbby , @alula394 , @goldennviolet , @i3beingcuntyyyy

[francisforevermore]

⟢ ꒰ ⋮「 My little dove, why do you cry? 」 ⸝⸝

“It feels as though her whole world has come down around her. Her brother hates her, she’s lying motionless on cold pavement, and she might not see tomorrow morning. But, even then, in her darkest of moments, there may be light.”

Warnings ~ canon-typical violence, Socs being perverted, cursing, mild implications of SA, mentions of sh, mental health struggles

･ ⟢ ⋮ a/n: guess who’s making this an au!! Calling the reader “soft!reader” (cus it’s all I could think of…) will be basing her off of me😓 also i wont be posting for the next few days since I’ll be on a school trip 💔

w/c ~ 1600+

──── ₊˚⊹ ♰ ⊹˚₊ ────

You run.

You run as fast as you can.

Your lungs burn like a sinner in church by the time you’re across town. You pause to catch your breath, chest heaving as you lean against your throbbing knees.

The tears in your eyes threaten to fall. But you don’t let them. You’ll never let them ever again. You glance up, taking in your surroundings as you catch your breath. Big houses with white picket fences, fancy architecture, all looking the exact same aside from color surround you on every side.

You realize you’re in Soc territory a moment too late.

“Well, look what we have here.” A cocky voice drawls, several sets of footsteps echoing behind you.

Your head whips around, and you’re met with three faces you’ll never forget. Three boys, clearly Socs by their shiny hair and madras shirts, all with shit-eating grins on their faces.

One is blonde, with deep brown eyes and a sharp nose. One is brunette, with a chipped tooth he seems to wear proudly. The final one – the leader – has black hair, with blue eyes that are forever etched into your brain. Your voice fails you.

“Such a pretty little thing, and all alone, too.” The one with black hair murmurs, stepping up to you. Close. Too close. He twirls a piece of your hair in his finger, his smirk cruel.

You can’t speak. You can’t move. Your heart sits in your aching throat, words not wanting to leave your mouth. Your legs fail you when you need them the very most. You want to pull away but you can’t.

“What, cat got your tongue?” It’s the blonde one this time, taking a step too close; so close you can practically feel his beer-tainted breath on your face.

“Bet she’s amazing with her tongue...” The brunette one eyes you up and down, his gaze so full of malice and lust that it sets your head spinning.

“You wanna test that theory?” His buddy adds.

The moment you manage to take a step back, they’re acting.

───〃★

You feel like you’ve been through hell. And in a way, you have.

Bruises kiss every inch of your body, proof of the act that had stolen any innocence you had left, leaving you more broken than any knife ever has.

You can’t move. It hurts too much.

Memories of the vile things they had done to you linger vividly in your mind. Hands grabbing, legs kicking, fingers pinching. It’s all so fresh. Your chest burns with every attempt at taking a breath, ribs probably bruised. Maybe even broken. You wouldn’t be surprised.

You can still feel the phantom sensation of their hands all over you – leaving marks that may not be visible but hurt as much as a blade slitting open your throat.

It isn't long before your head begins to grow fuzzy and clouded, all the injuries scattered about your body finally catching up to you.

But then there’s a voice. Calling your name. So distant, so soft, it sounds as though it’s underwater. But you recognize it. The unique drawl, different from you and your brothers’ accent. Not southern, but New York.

“Where are ya, sweetheart…? Shit, is that you?!”

Then comes a face.

Dark, messy hair. Brown eyes full of an unusual fear. A sharp jawline set tight with tension.

“Damnit… god fuckin’ damnit…..”

Strong arms wrap around your crumpled form, lifting you with ease. The oddly familiar scent of leather and cigarettes fills your nose. You don’t have the energy to question who it is, where they’re taking you or if they’re even a decent person.

All you can do is lean your head against their chest, eyes fluttering shut. You’re exhausted. So, very exhausted.

“No… no, no, no, doll… dont you fuckin’ give up on me.”

That voice is the last thing you hear before you black out.

───〃★

You awaken with a start.

But the moment you try sitting up, a sharp pain shoots through your entire body, sending you right back into a lying position.

How long has it been? Hours? Days? You don’t know. The only thing even hinting at the time is the darkness outside your bedroom window.

Wait, you’re in your bedroom? How did you get there?

Suddenly, it all comes rushing back.

Darry. The argument. The Socs. Their hands. Their faces. The pain. The voice.

You manage to pull yourself into an upright position, not stopping despite pain blooming throughout your body. A scream threatens to rip itself from your aching throat, but you don’t let it.

Somehow – but not without excruciating pain that brings tears to your eyes – you bring yourself to your feet, hobbling over to your mirror.

Bruises cover nearly your entire body. Your arms, parts of your legs and your torso are wrapped in bandages. You can only really vaguely remember what the Socs did to you.

Punches. Kicks. A knife. Hands. So, so many hands.

It brings even more tears to your eyes.

For several minutes, you just stand there, ears ringing as you recall everything that took place. But then you register the voices outside your room.

“Do you know what happened to her?” It’s Soda, a concerned edge to his typically playful voice.

“She was clearly jumped, dumbass! What makes you think I know exactly what happened??” It’s that voice again. The one you heard after you got jumped. And now, you know who it belongs to.

The infamous greaser – known for picking fights with Socs and stealing so much it’s like breathing for him – Dallas Winston.

Dallas Winston is the one who brought you home.

“Well, the good news is that she’s alive and safe.” Another voice pipes up.

Darry.

Oh, god, Darry.

You remember the fight; the very thing that caused this to happen. Looking back, it was over something so trivial. Why couldn’t you just be grateful for what you have?

Slowly, you waddle over to your door, feeling like a newborn fawn who doesn’t know how to use her legs yet. With trembling hands, you open your door, wincing at the creak that echoes throughout the tense atmosphere of the hallway.

Immediately, several heads are turning towards you.

Concern is etched into their features, but none of them make any sort of movement. However, the first person that does act isn’t Soda or Pony or even Darry, but Dally.

He walks right over to you, his face – usually full of mischief and cockiness – now holds nothing but fear.

“Hey, doll… You doin’ alright?” He says, his voice lower than normal. But not soft. More like he wants to be gentle but is too prideful to, which is probably more or less the truth.

Darry stares at him like he’s crazy, but doesn't stop him.

“I-I– I’m f– fine.” You stutter, feeling nothing but small. Weak. Fragile. And maybe that’s what you truly are, but it isn't what you want to be.

Dally stares down at you, gaze unable to fully fix on you for more than a couple seconds at a time. Like he’s terrified of the prospect of looking at you. Finally, he opens his mouth to speak again, but he’s shoved aside before he can.

Darry takes his place, and for a moment, you think he’s going to yell at you. To berate you for getting yourself into this mess by being a brat. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he wraps his arms around your entire torso, hugging you against his chest.

At first, you’re stiff. Scared. Feeling like a scared little cat in a moment where you should feel safe. Until you hear him sob. Then, you’re melting against him – though, collapsing seems like a better word – and letting out your own cries into his warm chest.

“I-I’m so-sorry, D-Da– Darry-” You choke out, trembling hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt. His large hand, calloused from hard work, smooths over your hair. Tenderly, like he would when you were ten, when he used to read to you at night and check under your bed for monsters.

“Don’t. God, please don’t apologize.” He gasps into your hair.

Several long minutes of crying and hugging pass before he draws back, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. He leans down to your level.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For– for makin’ you feel like this. Like you're an outcast in your own home. I’m so, so sorry…”

His apology only makes you cry harder. You sob into his collar, arms struggling to wrap fully around him. He kisses the top of your head, an act full of a tenderness you haven’t experienced in far too long.

───〃★

After that, it was all about the small things.

In the immediate month after the incident, it was clear the things those Socs did to you had a massive affect on your already deteriorating mental wellbeing. Small movements made you flinch. You had nightmares. If anyone but Darry – or Dally – touched you, you’d jerk away and get a terrified look in your eye.

But progress was made, too.

Nobody questioned why you clung to Dally’s side. Nobody questioned why those Socs randomly disappeared under the notion that “they needed a fresh start.” Nobody questioned why, that same night, Dallas came to the house with bloody fists.

However, as time went on, things got better.

Darry bought you that skirt. He let you go out. He let you go see that Marilyn Monroe movie that didn’t show until ten. He started treating you like a part of his family, showing you the love he should have expressed much, much too long before.

The scars left on you – both mentally and physically – would linger until long after that fateful night. But with the constant support of your family, you learned to accept that.

You learned to belong.

──── ₊˚⊹ ♰ ⊹˚₊ ────

[itshardtogetaaroundthewind]

“Come to Bed” - Darry Curtis (Married!)

—————————————————————

Authors Note: omg in celebration of TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY LIKES? That is sooo insane to me like Woah!! so thank you guys sm, i never thought people would actually read my work 🥹 anyways yap yap yap.. I thought this was cute, live laugh love husband Darry (Guys ill do Steve one day, im just not that connected to him ngl) ENJOY!!

—————————————————————

Darry had noticed it before you did. Every extra minute was spent folding laundry or washing dishes, dusting a shelf here or there. He had noticed how your hands never stopped moving these days, always busy. Busy with something—anything, to avoid just resting. Darry loved you, his spouse, more than anything. But your restless habits drove him up the wall.

Tonight was no different. He was sitting in bed, newspaper laid open in his hands, in his old sweats and tank top. He had showered and wrapped up paperwork a while ago, now allowing himself relaxation. But the other half of the bed was empty and made perfectly. You were still tinkering with something. He could hear it in the kitchen, the sound of his mother’s old sewing machine on the dining table going. A soft hum followed. He sighed, crinkling his paper, folding it up and setting it on the nightstand.

He slowly walked into the dining room, wrapping his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss in your hair. “Hey, baby… Plan on coming to bed soon?” he asked, moving his hands to massage your shoulders. You patted his hand, “Yeah, just wanted to finish sewing up this shirt before I forget,” you mumbled sleepily. You had already worked a long nine-hour shift at the diner, still in your uniform. “It’ll be there in the morning, no? C’mon, you need to rest,” he said quietly, trying to persuade you to come to bed. Despite waking up with you, he missed falling asleep with his wife next to him. Missed having you tucked into his neck. You always came in long after he had called it a night. “I’m almost done, get back in bed, I’ll be there soon,” you waved him off tiredly, looking up at him. Darry shook his head, “You’re gonna give me gray hairs, you can’t keep working like this, you’ll burn out,” he reasoned. Darry sighed. He knew what it was like to be drained, overworked with more responsibilities piling high on his shoulders. He hated seeing himself in you. Not because he hated himself, he hated how lost he’d felt. Like nothing good was at the end of the tunnel. Until he found you. You gave him a soft smile, “You work a lot more than you should too,” you pointed out. His shoulders stiffen, he lets out a breath before guiding you to your feet. “I don’t want you to feel lost, it ain’t a good feelin’. Trust me,” he said, slowly hoisting you up into his arms with ease. “Besides, I’m the man of the house. It’s my job to look out for my lady,” he whispered.

Once in your bedroom, he sets you down, helping you slowly roll your tights off, then assisting you out of your work clothes. Bleach stained and tattered from many hours of work. “I just want what’s best for you sweetheart,” he reassured. When in your pajamas, he runs a brush through your hair before tucking you in. You gave a soft smile, “Thanks, Dar…” You whisper, your eyelids already weighted down with sleep. He was right and you hated to admit. Admit that your fuel was starting to run low, but the money issues pressing on your shoulders nearly scared you to death. “Just scared sometimes, scared that I’m not doin’ it right and need to do more,” you mumble, nuzzling into Darry once he climbs in beside you. He knew the feeling all too well. “I understand. You got me, and that’s a promise until the day I die,” he admits, then kissing your head and turning off the lamp. Plunging you into darkness, leaving you to bask in the warm comfort of your husband's strong arms.

[vniillabean]

Lovefool 

╰┈➤ “I can't care 'bout anything but you”

                           ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🪐་༘࿐

ᝰ.ᐟ summery: Sodapop can’t seem to stop talking about you at dinner. So much so Ponyboy is desperate to meet you.

word count: something around 430+

warnings!!!: just fluff + not proofread

puppy love! au m.list

                            ༄˖°.🥥.ೃ࿔*:･

“Mom you don’t understand, she’s perfect!” Soda said while his mom stirred the pot. 

Ever since Soda met you he will not stop talking about you. Instead of Mrs. Curtis reading a bedtime story to him, Sodapop insists that he should tell his ma even more about you. 

Why wouldn’t he like you? Just look at you! Soda was star struck from the moment he met you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I mean she’s got really pretty eyes and— and her hair! It’s very nice. You should meet her since I’m going to marry her.”

“You’re going to marry her?” Mrs. Curtis asked raising an eyebrow and Soda eagerly nodded grinning ear to ear.

“Yep!”

“I thought you were already married to Stephanie?”  

“That was over a week ago ma, I found me a new wife. One that I will actually get married to one day.” He smiled, thinking about their wedding and how he’ll propose to her, his eyes turning into hearts.

“How much is a diamond ring? I wonder if she likes gold.” 

Mrs. Curtis chuckled at her son, “Go set the table honey.”

“So, who’s this girl Soda?” Mr. Curtis asked, cutting up the boiled potatoes for Ponyboy.

“Oh, she’s amazing. I’m gonna marry her.”

“Marry her? Aren’t you seven?”

“And? You should already have a child Darry.” 

Mr. Curtis laughed at their banter. “You’re gonna marry her? With the ring and everything?” 

“Oh of course! Get down on one knee too.”

Mr. Curtis grinned at his second oldest son. “You really like her don’t you?” He didn’t wait for a response since he already knew the answer. “You gotta ask her dad for permission first.”

“What about my permission?” Pony chirped for his chair. “I wanna meet her before you marry her.” 

“She’s the girl Johnny talked to at the park, remember?” 

Pony shook his head. “Johnny talks to girls? He has me though.” He pouted and shoved the mashed potatoes in his mouth.

Darry looked at Soda, “Wait the girl at the park? Soda, Johnny likes her. You can’t marry her.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Aw dang it.”

“Soda can still marry her. I married your mom when my friend liked her.” Mr.

Curtis said. “It’s no biggie.”

“Dad! You can’t do that! That’s so not cool!” 

Mr. Curtis waved Darry off, “My friend didn’t care.” 

Soda sucked his tongue out to Darry, “See, I can marry whoever I want! And if Johnny gets mad then he can marry her too!”

“Soda don’t say that honey.”

“Can I marry her?” Ponyboy asked. “She sound cool.”

“No, Pony. She doesn’t even know you!”

“Well she probably doesn’t even remember you!” The youngest snapped back.

“Come down boys, don’t go fighting over girls, we don’t do that here.” Mr. Curtis pointed at the two brothers with his fork and then only pointed at Sodapop, “How about a plastic ring instead of a diamond one Soda?” 

🏷️ -

@nerdyenoughtounderstand, @loserinadress, @carolines-cat-420, @louiseexu, @colettebrown088, @heartsforamari19, @snug-catholic-bug, @imgonnashartmyself

[vniillabean]

Somethin’ Stupid

╰┈➤ “I practice everyday to say some clever lines to say”

                          𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🥞 ／ ⋆ ۪

ᝰ.ᐟ summery: After the occurrence that happened in the park, Johnny cannot seem to stop thinking about you. Everyday he daydreams about seeing you again. But when he does see you again his friend, Sodapop can’t seem but to think the same way about you.

word count: 496

warnings!!!: jealous!johnny ig??

A/N: enjoy!!

puppy love! au m.list

                                  ./づ~ 🍓"

Everyday after school, Johnny would run to the park and wait there for an hour. He would sit on the green wooden bench and patiently sit there in silence. 

It wasn’t like he had caring parents to stop him.

Johnny would count how many leaves would fall from the trees. How many birds landed on the ground. How many people would come in and out. Anything to pass the time. 

Who was he waiting for?

You.

Ever since meeting you in the park, Johnny has been star struck. 

How could he not be? You shared your chez-its with him!

Everyday he would wait for you, just in case it was the day you came back to see him. Sometimes he waited for so long he fell asleep before snapping back awake in case you came. 

One day when he was walking to the park he heard footsteps behind him. He excitedly turned around thinking it was you but instead was met with the golden boy. Sodapop Curtis. 

“Hey Johnnycakes! ‘decided to follow you.” Soda chirped cheerfully, jogging to catch up to Johnny. 

Johnny sighed softly before Soda came shoulder to shoulder with him.

“So! Watchca doing?” The golden boy asked practically vibrating for no reason whatsoever besides from the fact he was having a good day.

“Just going to the park.” The tan boy mumbled, shoving his fits in his pockets.

Johnny was supposed to be having a peaceful, relaxing afternoon, instead his going to have to spend his peaceful afternoon with Mr. Chatallthetime.

Soda nodded and begin to talk about anything really.

Usually Johnny would be listening to every word that came out of Soda’s mouth, but he was too busy looking for the familiar pigtails his been looking for everyday.

He scanned the park, looking everywhere for you.

“Hey, ain’t that the girl you talked to at the park?”

“What! Where?”

Soda pointed to the swings.

There you were. Johnny was young but he knew his heart skipped a beat when he saw you. 

“Woah. Her hair is real shiny.” Soda giggled. “She looks like the girl I saw on TV!” The golden haired boy started running over to you.

“What is he doing?” Johnny thought, following Soda’s footsteps. 

By the time Johnny got to you, Sodapop seemed to already start a conversation. 

He could tell Soda was trying to impress you by doing his signature cartwheel and handstand. 

Much to Johnny’s dismay, you looked impressed by Soda’s ability to stand upside down and roll while having his hand stick up, and you applauded Soda.

In the middle of Soda bowing, you looked over and saw Johnny standing awkwardly. 

“Johnny!” You cheered, jumping off the swing to hug him. 

You were a tad bit taller than him, but Johnny couldn’t care and hugged you back instantly.

Johnny felt like he was in heaven. Key word ‘felt’. 

He felt like he was in heaven until Soda screamed, ‘Group hug!’ and invited himself into the hug.

🏷️ - @nerdyenoughtounderstand, @loserinadress, @carolines-cat-420, @louiseexu, @colettbrown088, @heartsforamari19, @snug-catholic-bug