can you write something about how the gang handles a really emotional Curtis sister... Like she literally doesn't even know why shes crying most of the time she just is. She is literally me
send me requests for the outsiders!
--
At Dallas's groan, "Ah, here come the fuckin' waterworks again," all eyes are on you. You'd been hoping to fly under the radar, but now that seven pairs of eyes are staring at you, your tears escape hot and free down your cheeks.
"It's- I'm fine!" You insist, voice thick and choppy as you rush for the bathroom. You don't shut the door, because even if you did you know someone would have barged in. It's predictably Darry and Soda, but Two-Bit lingers in the hallway, peering in worriedly.
"You're okay, kid." Darry encourages you, a strong hand on your shoulder to help you get yourself under control, "Somethin' the matter?"
"What's with the tears, Baby Curtis?" Two asks, "Movie gettin' to 'ya?"
It's a horror movie- it's safe to say you're not sniffling over blood and guts.
"No, it's-" You sniffle, letting Sodapop tug you into his side where he's now perched on the lid of the toilet. He slings an arm around your waist and you lean gratefully into his side, thankful for the pressure of a body against yours.
"It's nothing. I don't know." You shrug helplessly, and Two smiles- kindly, not teasingly.
"You've got a condition or somethin'." He decides, traipsing back into the living room, "We oughta turn you in to a doctor, have them diagnose you with some crazy new brain condition. Maybe they could name it after you, kid."
"Yeah, Crybaby Curtis syndrome," Steve snickers, and Soda shouts a halfhearted, 'Be nice!' to his friend despite not being able to see him.
"Lay off, Steve," Johnny groans, and you hear Ponyboy chime in with a fervent, 'Yeah!' that he would have kept to himself had Johnny not led the charge. Despite having the upper hand, Ponyboy still struggles to pick fights with Steve. Usually it's a losing battle.
"Come on, kiddo." Darry urges, and Soda sticks close to your side as you shuffle back into the living room. Dallas doesn't move aside to give you your old seat back where he's stretched out over half of it, but he also doesn't protest when you throw your leg over his own to fit on the cushion.
"You've gotta man up, kid." Dally decides, snatching his cigarette out of his mouth and blowing the smoke into your face, "Can't be burstin' into tears all the time. People are gonna think you're weak."
"I am weak," You concede feebly, wiping at one last tear that streaks down your cheeks, "I don't know why it happens most'uh the time. Just does."
"Some people are just like that." Johnny smiles kindly at you, and you appreciate his sweetness, "We ain't gonna judge you."
"It'll be great for gettin' out of trouble," Sodapop grins mischieviously at you, "Just think, when you're a wild child in high school, and you're comin' home drunk at 2AM, Darry's gonna yell at you. Just flash him those teary eyes of yours and he'll get all soft for 'ya, he'll let you off real easy."
"Hey- Don't you go givin' her any ideas." Darry points a warning finger at Soda, and Ponyboy scoffs, surely jealous at the prospect of your secret weapon.
You share a secret smile with Soda, though, one that's hidden from both of your brothers. Two-Bit catches it and snorts, "Damn, Darry. I'm not itchin' to be you in a few years."
"Well then you'd better start hangin' out at your own house every once in a while," Darry glares at him, "You spend so much time here I'm gonna give you a chore on the chore chart."
"I don't even do chores at my own place," Two-Bit snickers, like the suggestion is the funniest one he's ever heard. He stretches his arm out behind your head, resting it on your far shoulder, "Just call me whenever you're goin' to those parties, Y/N, and I'll get drunker'n you, make you look like a saint in comparison."
"Dally's a saint in comparison to you, Two-Bit," Ponyboy gripes, "Just don't climb through my window expecting me to help you sneak past Darry."
"Now I mean it, boys," Darry snaps, "Don't go givin' her ideas! Conversation over."
Dallas waits all of three seconds before leaning down, tucking his face beside your ear so that he can drawl, "I'll teach you how to sneak past him if you can go without cryin' for a day."
"Deal." You hold out a pinky for him to link with his own, and if anyone else in Tulsa had offered it, they'd have gotten slugged. Instead, Dallas's finger curls around yours, and he shoots you a shit-eating grin, eyes glimmering dangerously, "24 hours, crybaby. Don't let me down."
summary: dallas has to own up to his feelings for you to the big man himself, darrel curtis, your dear brother. meanwhile, you gush about him to ponyboy and johnny. part 2 of this fic!
warnings: crude language, smoking, mentions of sex, lmk if i missed anything <3
the aroma of tomatoes floats through the kitchen as you stir the pot of your signature sauce for spaghetti and meatballs. dallas's favourite, is something in the back of your mind. ponyboy is sat at the dinner table, smoking a cigarette. "so, you and dally, huh?" he comments out of nowhere.
you whip your head around, eyes widening. how the hell did ponyboy know? your mind goes back to what dally had told you, how he had drunkenly bragged to johnny about your date yesterday, he must have told ponyboy. does darry already know? as far as she knows, he's gonna bust through the door yelling about 'surrounding yourself with good people, not hoods like dallas'. "how do you know that?" you question your brother, immediately regretting not denying the claims.
ponyboy shrugs. "johnny said you were on a date with dally." he shrugs, with a grin. "didn't know you were into guys like dally. you're in deep shit with darry, though" he teases, stubbing out his cigarette. just then, johnny walks through the door, without a reason as always.
"you!" you say, a bit louder than intended, pointing your spoon at him. "why'd you tell everyone?" you question, softening your voice when you see the way he shrinks slightly.
johnny chews on his thumbnail nervously. "shit, i'm sorry. i didn't know it was meant to be a secret when dally told me" he says, crossing his arms protectively. "he was uh... really excited. i've never see 'im like that before" he mutters.
you sigh, going back to stirring. "well, he is special when he's with me" you say softly, mind going back to dallas. by special, he's not perfect by any means. but he's better.
ponyboy hums. "like what, he's nice?" he teases, unable to even imagine dallas winston being nice, even with his wild imagination.
you roll your eyes and clear your throat. "i'm never nice" you say, mocking dallas's voice the best you can. listening to him talk for hours on end sure helps your ability to mimic his accent. "he's not 'nice', per se, he's still an asshole. he's just... he doesn't yell, he doesn't smoke as often and he doesn't treat me like full shit" you say.
johnny snickers slightly, a noise definitely missed around these parts. "dally isn't ever like that" he comments with a slight smile. hearing about 'nice' dally fuels his admiration for the older boy, even if the bars so low, the devil would trip over it.
you just smile. "he's a good kisser" you giggle, recalling all the times you've been on buck's couch, with dallas's hands in your hair and his lips on yours as he holds you tight to him.
"ew!" ponyboy says, smacking his hands down on the table. "i dont wanna hear about dally and you kissin'!" he says, before you can even describe it. you just giggle, that was exactly the reaction you wanted from ponyboy. you are his big sister after all.
˚₊‧ ʚɞ ‧₊˚
meanwhile, dallas was trying to enter the home as discretely as possible, wanting to see you. he had caught drift of the fact that darry knew, and he knew darry probably wanted to beat his head into his ass or something.
darry, however, opened the door for him, arms crossed. he's always been an imposing figure, but he sure makes dallas feel small. and scared, but he's not gonna say that. "hey darrel..." he chuckles awkwardly. dally almost never acts like this.
darry looks down at him. "winston. lets go to the living room, hm?" he asks, crossing his arms. "you're seeing my sister, aren't you?" he asks coldly, sitting down on the couch.
dallas stiffens his body and tries to stand up straighter. "yeah, maybe i am. she's good looking" he says, trying to play it cool. he means it when he says that, it's one of the only things he's ever meant. you're a beautiful girl, you're his beautiful girl.
darry sighs. "sit down, dallas." he says gently, and when dallas does, he starts to talk. "look. i don't wanna tell you to stop seeing her, i know you well enough to know you wont listen to me." he pauses, making sure dallas is listening. "i just want you to know some things. treat her well, kid. you know we'll be pissed at ya if you fuck up," he's rambling before dally cut him off.
"i know, man" dallas says, playing with his rings. his eyes lock on the one you gave him, thinner and more dainty than his others. "i know. i ain't gonna hurt her, yknow? i uh... i like her" he mutters. he tries to convince himself its your body, the sex, anything that isn't just the way you make him feel. the way you are. he debates telling darry he loves you, but he's never been that brave, so he settles on; "i like her a lot."
darry listens, and pauses for a moment. he just... thinks. he stares at dallas for a moment, as if trying to read his mind. 'i like her, i like her' he can tell he means he loves her and he eventually sighs.
without a word, darry reaches over and shakes dallas's hand. there's nothing said, nothing heard. nothing needs to be said. dallas made it past the brother, the stand-in father. for a moment, dallas sees mr. curtis, remembers the way he would laugh and joke about dallas having a crush on his daughter.
a smile slightly cracks on dallas's face. "this mean i can come over?" he cracks a joke.
"keep the door open."
authors note: this is a shorter fic, i lowkey prefer the shorter ones sorryyyy <3 btw if ur reading this pleeeasseee drop a comment ur comments give me lifeee!! tysm for all the love on the first fic, you genuinely don't know how much this all means to me. i really just want to make people happy with what i write, it's something i've loved since i could write lol. sorry to get all sentimental, this just means alot. thank you so so much to the person who requested part one, this was so much fun to write. i love you all. i really mean lots of love.
can I request a drabble or fic about Curtis sister getting bullied?
sigh. writing curtis!sister stuff is so nostalgic and personal to me. inside of me lives a thirteen year old girl who desperately wanted them to be my brothers. this is for little meimei <33
send me requests for the outsiders!
--
You'd been expecting Steve to pick you up from school, but there must have been a rush at the DX, because it's Two-Bit's creaky old car that chugs along the back street. That's fine too - you could use a laugh after today.
There's a certain level of teasing that you've come to expect because of your social status, but lately some of the older girls around school have made it their personal mission to go above and beyond the standard. Just today they'd begun making fun of the keychain attached to your bookbag- a mickey mouse pendant that had been a gift from Two-Bit himself. Stolen, of course, but not from just any corner store. No, that one had come from a big fancy Disney store, in a big fancy mall hours outside of Tulsa.
He'd been grossly proud of himself when he'd given it to you for your birthday, but according to those older girls, Mickey Mouse was for kids, and that made you one.
You'd tucked it safely into the front pocket of your bag, but Two-Bit notices its absence when you slide into the front seat like there's a neon sign advertising it.
"Hey, kid, where's the keychain?" He nods at your bag, "Did it break off already? Damn Disney, makin' cheap, lousy shit."
"No, it's- it didn't break." You settle into your seat, "I just- took it off."
Two-Bit's hands tighten slightly on the wheel, and he clears his throat, attempting to remain nonchalant.
"Oh. Any reason?"
You think you've hurt his feelings. He's quiet in a way that he usually isn't, and there's no trace of his signature brand of playfulness.
"It's not that I don't like it, Two." You reassure him, reaching over to brace your hand against his leg briefly. He glances at it, throwing you a smile, albeit a wounded one. "I just- I had it on my bag this morning, but then- I dunno, some girls were teasing me about it. I just wanted to avoid trouble."
You'd been attempting to relieve him of any hurt, but now he looks like he wants to hurt the girls you're talking about. He doesn't go to school very often, choosing instead to bum around at your house with a beer and a slice of cake. But you have a sinking feeling that he's going to have perfect attendance from now on, as your personal bodyguard.
"They're pickin' on you?" He asks, glancing over at you from the side of his eye as he tries keeping his focus on the road.
"It's not that bad," You lie, shrugging and reaching into your bag to put your keychain back where it belongs, displayed proudly on your zipper, "They're just high school bullies, Two. Don't worry about it. And don't- don't tell Darry. Please?"
"I don't know, kid." Two-Bit's jaw tightens, shifting as he turns a corner towards the east side of town, "I don't like this. No one should be picking on you. And not to brag, but I know how much you like that keychain. If it's bad enough for you to hide it..."
"It's not that bad, I just- I'm trying to make sure it doesn't get worse. I'm fine," You vow, but there's still a pool of dread in your gut whenever one of the girls' faces flashes in your mind.
"I'm comin' with you tomorrow to school," Two-Bit decides predictably, "And I'm gonna see it for myself, and if they're really layin' into you, I'm rallying the whole gang. Including your brothers. Let us help you, kid."
"No, please-? I don't wanna make it a big deal," You gush, "Two-Bit, everybody's stressed enough. Darry barely has any time to sleep, Soda's worryin' all day about Sandy, Ponyboy's gotta study or Darry'll be on him, just- I don't need to make things worse."
"You aren't makin' anything worse." He frowns, pulling over to the side of the road to turn towards you without the threat of crashing, "Those girls are. Listen, kid. Your brothers care about'cha. We all do. And all of us'd be happy to stick up for you. You know how much fun me 'n Steve would have rippin' into a bunch of mean girls?"
"Don't tell them yet." You insist, but you feel the sincerity of his speech, "Just- wait and see tomorrow. You'll probably scare 'em off anyways."
"I'll wear my best Mickey Mouse shirt," Two promises, his usual shit-eating grin now triumphantly returned to his face as he merges back into the road, "And by that I mean my only one- 'nless you count the old gym shirt my sister drew on."
--
You're nervous about walking back into school with the Mickey Mouse keychain hanging from your bag once more, but you're flanked by an unknowing Ponyboy on your left and a determined Two-Bit on your right, so you know no harm will come to you. Two-Bit is, in fact, wearing his Mickey shirt beneath his leather jacket, practically a dare for anyone to come and say something to him about you.
You think you're in the clear until the three girls you'd been cornered by the day before spot you, and neither Two-Bit nor Ponyboy notice their expressions, but you feel their gaze on the back of your neck. You're sure your keychain is bouncing around in plain sight from the movement of your stride, but with your two bodyguards around none of them dare to say anything.
Two-Bit drops you off at the door to your first class, raising his eyebrows knowingly but subtle enough that it slips past Ponyboy.
"'Kay. I'll meetcha here after class. Wanna sit with us for lunch, kid?"
You nod, thankful that he phrased it as an invitation so that Pony is none the wiser. In reality, you'd been planning on clinging to Two-Bit's leather jacket the entire lunch period. You're glad you have an excuse to do so, now.
You're lucky enough to have B-track classes today, which puts you in different groups than yesterday's A-track. It means that your only possible encounters with the three girls are in the hallways, but Two-Bit makes it impossible for anyone to pick on you by tailing you to each of your classes.
You think you've made it out alive- hopefully forever, by the end of the school day, and the ride home in Two-Bit's creaky little car feels miles better than it had the day before. Ponyboy's silent in the backseat, but that's usual for him, and you think nothing of it as you enjoy the ice cream that Two-Bit buys for the three of you.
It's when you're home that things really go downhill, sitting quietly around the dinner table when Ponyboy speaks for the first time all night.
"Y/N, why didn't'cha tell us you're getting picked on?" He raises the question quietly, but it's just for show- you know he's irritated, and Darry and Soda both straighten in their seats.
"What?" You feign innocence, digging your fork through the spaghetti on your plate, "What are you talkin' about, Pony?"
"These girls were talkin' about you in my history class." Ponyboy grumbles, and shit, you hadn't even considered the possibility of them sharing a class with your brother. You know he's smart for his age, that he was placed a year ahead of his grade level, but you hadn't connected the dots that they'd be in the same classes.
Darry's focus is on you now, but you know him and Soda are both still waiting for Ponyboy to continue. You avoid all three of their gazes, scrutinizing your spaghetti instead.
"They said they were planning on cornering you today. But they said since Two and I were with 'ya, they couldn't. Why didn't'cha tell us they were bothering you?"
Darry shifts forwards in his seat, more intimidating than he means to be. He's worried, you know that, but that's what you'd been trying to avoid.
"It's nothing serious, Pony." You try placating him, the whole table for that matter, "They're just mean girls. I'm handling it fine, really."
"They were talkin' about cornering you?" Darry finally speaks up, his voice unconsciously booming, "Y/N, I don't think you could've handled yourself then. Now I know you don't like makin' a scene but they could've hurt you. How many of 'em are there?"
"Three." You mumble, "Darry, I- I would've got out of it okay, really! They're real preppy, put-together girls, they probably wouldn't fight. Pro'lly just wanted to call me names or something."
"I don't want someone callin' you names, either." Soda frowns, his own plate forgotten as he focuses on you, "Did you tell a teacher about it?"
"No, it's- it's not that bad! Really, guys, you're overreacting. It's just high school drama. It sounds worse than it is."
"I don't like it." Darry decides, a note of finality in his voice that you're not happy about, "That ain't okay. And you know we'd back you up, kiddo. Pony, Johnny and Steve are there every day, and if you told Two-Bit, I'm sure he'd show up too."
"I did tell Two-Bit," You admit reluctantly, and rush to finish before your brothers get offended, "He got it out of me on the way home yesterday. That's why he came today, to make sure none of 'em got a hold of me."
"See, you do need a bodyguard," Soda reasons, leaning back in his chair, "Maybe I oughta take a day off from work. Drop you off tomorrow, give 'em the death stare or somethin'. If you want, I can have Dally tag along, that'll really scare 'em."
"No! No, don't take the day off, and- and don't show up! Especially not with Dallas," You groan, "This is why I didn't tell any of you guys. You have enough to worry about, you don't need to get involved in girl stuff."
Darry kicks your foot under the table, not hard, but reassuring, "Don't say that, kiddo. It ain't just 'girl stuff' if you're gettin' cornered at school. And we'd be more worried if you came home with a black eye. Now you let us all pick you up from school tomorrow, m'kay? Keep the boys with you, and Pony, keep an eye on those girls in class to see if they talk any more about Y/N."
"I will." Pony vows, and Soda finally relaxes, going for another bite of spaghetti at the same time that he tries speaking.
"Steve and I'll whip 'em if they act out," He promises through a mouthful of food, eliciting a sickened laugh from you, and two groans from your other brothers.
"Chew your food, Soda," Pony grimaces, and Darry elbows Soda unimpressed.
"Thanks, guys." You mumble, bashful for needing help but grateful your brothers are so willing to step into the ring for you, "It's- it's really not that bad but thank you for helping me anyways."
"Anytime, kiddo," Darry promises, a rare smile crossing his face, "Can't have the best of us gettin' beat up at school."
"Hey! The best of us?" Ponyboy glares at Darry, stabbing his spaghetti, "What happened to my big brains?"
"I dunno, I think you lost 'em when you fell from the top of the drive-in fence," You smirk at your youngest brother, still older but easiest to tease, "You hit the ground pretty hard."
Soda erupts into laughter at the memory, and Ponyboy continues his vicious assault on his dinner while Darry smothers a laugh, trying to keep the peace.
"But we mean it." Darry looks at you again, a hint of that former sternness crossing his face again, "If you need muscle, you got it. Ain't nobody gonna mess with my kid sister."
"'Specially not if Dallas shows up," Soda snickers, "Them girls'll go runnin' for the hills when they see him helpin' you in the car."
"Tell him to behave himself," You groan, "I don't need to be called into the office 'cause my brother's friend flashed a heater 'round the parking lot."
"He never behaves himself," Pony scoffs, "But if them girls are smart enough, they'll stay away from you before he has to get crazy on 'em."
"They'll stay away from you," Darry vows, and you believe him with the way the muscles in his strong arms flex as he leans forwards on the table, "Or they're gonna have to worry about somethin' worse than Dally."
Could we get daughter curtis!reader beinf babysat by one of the gang memebers? I feel like having the gang or one of the gang members babysitting/watching daughter curtis would be so funny😭
There are plenty of options that would have been better than this, Steve's sure of it. Two-bit's good with kids, Sodapop loves taking you out to get attention from girls, and even Dallas seems to be amused by your incessant questioning. He won't admit it, but Steve sees the smirk on his face every time you ask him something asinine, because he gets to make up just as ridiculous of an answer.
But him- he's not a good babysitter.
"I want to do something." You urge, your eyes wide and round and imploring as you stick your hands on your hips, "Pony and Soda and Darry always play with me. And- and Uncle Johnny and Uncle Two-Bit and Uncle Dally."
"I know, kid." Steve sighs, "But we're not at your house. We're in the garage," He gestures to the back of the DX, where tools litter the floor and cars block off any available space for a game of tag, "This ain't a playground. What would you even play with- a wrench?"
"You're not fun." You decide, a dramatic whine coming from your throat, "When's Soda gonna be back?"
Your brother was supposed to be watching you for the day, keeping you behind the register to sweet-talk customers into buying more. But he'd skipped out for a lunch date, and now you're staring at Steve like he's the least interesting person in the world.
"We'll be lucky to get him back by dinner time." Steve scoffs, itching at the back of his head and surely messing up his perfectly-swirled hair, "Listen- is there a game you can play without any toys? Or space to run around? Or the need to climb things? Or me?"
It does give you something to think about, which Steve is grateful for. You're a force to be reckoned with, so any amount of silence is appreciated. But your eyes gleam with delight as you come up with an answer far too soon, and Steve braces himself as you shriek, "Hide and seek!"
"I'm pretty sure that involves me," He stares down at you warily, "Kid, I'm workin'. I don't have time to mess around."
"Steve," You throw your head back and curl your fists into his pant legs, surely smearing remnants of whatever you'd had for lunch on the denim, "Please? Soda always plays with me even when he's working, you're supposed to be babysitting me!"
Steve neglects to tell you that Soda doesn't do his work even when you're not there. He thinks it'd be a bad thing to do, badmouthing your brother in front of you, and he glances at the clock, debating one round of hide and seek. After all, if you hide, he can take as long as he wants trying to find you.
"Fine. One game." He orders, throwing a lazy hand in front of his eyes, "I'll count to twenty. And I'm really bad at finding things, so you might be there for a while."
"I'll help you!" You gush gleefully, and Steve hears the tiny pitter-patter of your feet run off to what sounds suspiciously like the space beneath one of the counters to his left, "Count!"
He makes it to five before you stop shuffling around beneath the counter. Ten is when you begin giggling, and by twenty he's sure he'd have to be deaf not to know where you were. It doesn't help your case that your feet are sticking out from beneath your hiding spot, bright pink shoes on your feet advertising your whereabouts to anyone who's trying to find you.
Steve steps over them to begin his hunt.
"Hmm," He ponders, "Did she run off into one of the cars?"
He mimes checking the backseats, and he hears you shout a muffled, 'No!' from your hiding spot.
He snorts, glancing lazily towards the popped hood of one of the cars.
"Maybe she's hiding in the engine," He muses, stalking over and glancing down at the mess of mechanics, "Mm, no, not there."
"I'm here!" You call, but you don't reveal yourself yet, "Come find me, Steve!"
"I'm working on it," He grouses, "Y'know, usually hide and seek is played quietly, so I can't hear where your voice is coming from."
You commit it to memory, pressing your lips shut tight. Steve continues his hunting, fiddling with a part of the car he's trying to tune-up each time he can get away with it.
--
Soda finds the gas station deserted from the front end when he returns from his lunch date, and he's surprised to find the garage similarly silent. But it doesn't last, because Steve straightens from where he'd been hunched over a stack of boxes, rifling through one so intently that Soda hadn't noticed him.
"Steve?" Soda asks, "Where's my sister?"
Steve swears, spinning on his heels with wide, panicked eyes.
"Soda," Steve grunts, "Listen- I lost her."
"What?"
"We were playing hide and seek." Steve admits, "And- she was real crap at it at first. But she got better, and now I really can't find her."
"She's terrible at hide and seek." Soda insists, "There's no way she's really tricking you."
"She was terrible!" Steve repeats, peering into the back window of one of the cars in their lineup, "But I kept giving her pointers! And now she's a master- check in that trunk, will you?"
Soda pops the trunk of the car beside him to find it entirely empty, and something unsettling settles in the pit of his stomach. He knows you're somewhere in the garage- the door had been locked and Steve would have heard you exit. But he imagines what Darry would say if he knew you'd managed to outsmart them for any longer than a few minutes, and gets to peering around the workshop for any you-sized hiding spots.
"Come on, Steve." Soda eyes a cabinet door distrustfully, ninety percent sure you couldn't have reached it seeing as it's hanging from the ceiling, but not sure enough not to check, "Let's find her before Darry skins us both."
And from the darkness of the space beneath Steve's own car, forgotten in the parking space across the garage from where they're looking, you giggle too quietly to be heard, tucking your knees further towards your chest so that your pretty pink shoes are invisible. Steve's going to regret teaching you how to play hide and seek properly, and you're going to enjoy watching him panic.
