#curtis sister!reader

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.

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.

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?"

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."