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winstonsns · 4 months

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the gang with a soc!reader

authors note: sorry the last one was kind of all over the place. i tend to ramble when i write so ill try to stay more on topic this time. in this preference, you and the characters will already be a couple :3 im also wondering if people are clicking the hashtags then they see my posts?? so if that’s what’s happening and you can see my posts when you click the hashtags please tell me because i have no idea if it’s working LMAO

includes: ponyboy, johnny, darry, soda, dally, two-bit and steve

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mild cussing, mentions of fighting/getting jumped

PONYBOY CURTIS

you both are academic BEASTS so you’re somewhat rivals and trying to get to the top of the class

but you’re still together, it’s a healthy relationship

most of the time, you’ll actually walk him home from wherever you are since it’s safe for you to walk home on your own, but since he’s a greaser it’s not safe for him

when you met the gang they taught you how to fight in case some greasers or even some socs tried to fight you

by walking him home, you’ve actually prevented him from getting beat up

you like to take him out to get food or something he wants when he gets a good grade since he gets happy when they’re high

sometimes you’ll get lower grades than him and you two will study together, or reversed

you’ll get him a new book every time he finishes another one, by the end of the year he has a new shelf just filled with books you’ve given him

you occasionally read him to sleep when he’s having a hard time, or again reversed

he falls asleep pretty quickly when you do this and he really appreciates it

you always sit together during assemblies and choose to be each others partner in the classes you have together

if you don’t decide to do track one year you’ll go to his meets, and after you always take him out to eat since you’re proud

if he’s extra tired then he’ll ask to go home so you will

you learned how to cook so he can have big nice meals, along with baking chocolate cake when soda and darry aren’t there to make it

pony thinks you make it better than darry but will never tell him that

he really loves spending time with you and feels like you’re the first person besides johnny to really understand him

you made him think about socs in a different way too, in a good way

yall are just humans doing what you know best, some in different environments and had different parents with different parenting styles

you like to bring him to the best places in tulsa to watch the sunsets

you also get the best polaroids of the sunsets and the colors are so beautiful

JOHNNY CADE

as soon as he told the gang that he was dating someone they were excited for him, then they found out you were a soc

dally told him to break up with you without even knowing you, johnny told him to give you a chance

when johnny invited you to the curtis house to meet his friends, you brought presents for all of them since you wanted to make a good impression

you had your ways about finding what they like and don’t like

they immediately took a liking to you when you gave them presents and a kiss on johnnys cheek

you’d patch him up and give him bandaids to take home after getting beat up by socs or his parents

sometimes you’d give him money and he would use that money to get you something you’ve been wanting for a while

he’s always so thankful for everything you do for him and everything you give him

since your parents don’t really care about the differences between greasers and socs, they let johnny stay over since they know things are rough at home

sometimes they’ll take you and him out for dinner with them and you think it’s so cute

he was nervous your parents wouldn’t like him since most of the socs parents would think he’s gross

he’s always proud of you for naturally getting good grades and seeing the smile on your face when you get your report card

sometimes when he’s upset you two will cuddle in your bed or you’ll drive him to a restaurant or fast food place

he always feels bad about spending your money but you tell him not to feel bad about it since you have more

DARRY CURTIS

things got more financially stable when you came into his life

you’d help him pay groceries and the bills if he was struggling, you also helped around the house

sometimes he’ll wake up to the smell of bacon, waffles, eggs, etc and suddenly its like he doesn’t have to be the responsible one 24/7

having you in his life has improved everything, and his brothers are so thankful to have you there too

you’re like a mother to them and they’re comfortable enough to open up to you

sometimes you’ll ask him out on cute little dates randomly just so he can get a break of hard work

he’ll take the day off and get all dressed up since you told him you were taking him to a really fancy restaurant

occasionally you’ll get your nails done just for your dates and he always notices

you’ll ask him “which color is better” and he’ll say “aren’t they the same?” then you have to explain to him that one is darker than the other

he still doesn’t see the difference but chooses one anyway since he likes to see you happy

he’s literally so in love with you and how you’ll do romantic and domestic things for him

you’re so beautiful and perfect in his eyes, and sometimes he’ll stare at you and his brothers will tease him

he really loves being around you and having you by his side

you also helped him become calmer, that pony and soda have their own problems and darry yelling at them probably just makes them scared

he starts to actually communicate with them and you’ll give him gifts for completing or succeeding because why not

he’s always like “hon, you didn’t have to get me this…” but you can see he’s happy with whatever you give him

he just loves you so much and his brothers love you too but obviously not romantically

SODAPOP CURTIS

people actually think the both of you are socs, i mean they’re half right

they think soda is a soc since he’s so handsome and think you’re a soc because of your mannerisms and how you’re very beautiful

you’ll always visit him at the DX just to hang out with him

your parents love him and how he treats you so they also let him stay over at your house

sometimes when it’s sodas turn to get groceries from the store, you’ll go along with him

he just wants to be around you whenever he can

you’ll offer to pay for the groceries plus stuff he doesn’t need but instead wants

once he got a pimple and he freaked the fuck out

you bought him some cleanser, moisturizer, sunscreen and pimple patches

you taught him how to use them and when, and in which order to use them in

his pimple went away in a few days

since you’re so smart and get good grades, you’ll help pony with his homework sometimes

soda will stare at you helping him from far away, he thinks it’s adorable that you two are bonding

when the two of you are in your room, you’ll play frank sinatra and the little dippers while having a home-date with sweets :3

you two have so much fun and he even opens up to you about his problems

you offer to get him a therapist but he says it’s that bad, you tell him to talk to you if he wants to talk about it again

he legit treats you like a princess and you love it

yall are the most attractive couple EVER no one can tell if they wanna be you or be with you

DALLAS WINSTON

when he realized he liked you he knew he had to protect you with his life

he needed a break from loud and annoying girls, then he found you

you could get quiet at times and you weren’t constantly screaming and acting like an annoying 12 year old boy

you got him to steal less since you could pay for things on your own

he didn’t really listen and still stole money from other people so he could get you things

whenever he got put in prison you could always bail him out due to the money you have

if he had to serve time then you’d give him money so he could spend it and get necessities

you’ll also make diy crafts for him on your guys anniversary and his birthday

he brings you to meetups with the gang, and they love you being there with him

you spoil him rotten and he loves it

makes him feel like a princess, weirdly enough

he’ll steal money to spoil you too, pays for your nails sometimes

you told him you wanted specific flowers once and he got you flowers sometime the next week, he acted nonchalant about it but he loved the happy look on your face

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

sometimes you’re quiet but he always finds a way to bring you to tears after laughing so hard

he’s literally the funniest person you’ve ever met

he never really expected a soc to get so loud since they were normally reserved and didn’t talk to many people

anyway you brought him to fucking disneyland once and he LOVED it

you booked a hotel and everything so yall saw mickey mouse

two-bit kinda laughed at him but he seemed happy so he didn’t care

he loves traveling with you and brags about it to the gang all the time

they say it’s cool then act like they don’t care but they’re kinda jealous he gets all that stuff

they’re happy for him though

sometimes you’ll get him little mickey figurines and he’ll put them on his nightstand, sometimes even carry it with him if it’s a keychain

he never would’ve expected a soc to be so nice to someone like him

he’s really glad that you love him and you show it

STEVE RANDLE

before you two started dating he tried to avoid you at all costs

he kinda thought you’d beat up him and his friends so he just stayed away from you

anyway when you guys started dating you’d drive him to the DX

you’d give him tips just for fun even if you didn’t buy anything from him

you’d buy him all sorts of little trinkets and such just so he’d have something to mess around with

i don’t have a lot of knowledge on him bro pls bear with me LMAO

he’s almost always with soda so you kind of became his best friend naturally

you’ll buy steve food on his breaks and drive him to restaurants or fast food places and you’ll eat on a bench or in a field together

you talk about some shit that happened at work while he listens

he’ll occasionally get you some food since he knows you like sweets

then you repay him with something he’s wanted for a while that he’s been asking for

whether it’s a book or food or a trinket idk

he loves you so much and is glad soda gets along with you so well

sorry this one’s shorter! i’ll try to make the preference longer next time. i’m gonna try to post at least twice per week but if im feeling good ill try to post more 💗 thank you for reading!

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kaleldobrev · 27 days

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Getting Back into the Swing of Things (1) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & Unnamed Hunter Boyfriend (OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 2.2k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (4x), Age Gap (15 years) & Minor controlling behavior

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | Don't worry, as Dean and reader meet in the next chapter! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⇠ Go Back & Read the Prologue

Dean tossed and turned, still unable to fall asleep despite what seemed like hours trying. He smelled blood in his nose, felt it on his lips and tongue; smiling with pure bliss. He could feel his hand gripping the First Blade, and he could hear the heart beats of people fading fast as he looked into their eyes. His throat felt dry all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he mumbled to himself.

Removing the covers from himself, he swung his body, his feet flat on the floor as he rubbed his face. Letting out a huge sigh of frustration, he got up from his bed and made his way to his bedroom door; deciding that maybe a few drinks could make him get a bit sleepy. But he knew deep down that wasn’t going to work — he just needed an excuse to get up and walk around.

As Dean started making his way toward the kitchen, he noticed that Sammy’s door was open halfway, the light of the room still on. A puzzled look appeared on Dean’s face, surprised that Sam was still up. He figured after curing him, he would be knocked out for the next couple of days, or at least taking it easy.

He heard drawers opening and closing, not remotely quietly. Standing in the doorway, he saw Sam packing some clothes into a duffel bag, slightly struggling as he did so, as he was down an arm. “Heading out somewhere?” Dean asked, after knocking on the doorway.

Sam looked up, barely smiling. He looked almost half asleep. “Uh yeah. A hunter friend of mine asked me to help her with a poltergeist case. Should be only a few days.”

“A poltergeist case uh?” Dean questioned, intrigued. “Where at?” He scratched the back of his head as he walked into Sam’s bedroom, trying his best not to sound too excited about the case.

“Tulsa. It’s about a five and a half hour drive from here, and I promised Y/N I’d meet her at the motel in town,” Sam said, zippering up his duffel.

“You sure you’re good to go Sammy? I mean, your arm is still broken,” Dean said, pointing at his arm. “Why don’t I go instead? I could use a nice and easy case to get my sea legs back.”

Sam looked at his brother with a bit of hesitancy. “I don’t know Dean…” his voice trailed off. Even though Sam had talked to you about Dean, he wasn’t sure how you would react to Dean showing up instead of him. Based on the short amount of time he had known you, he feels that you and Dean would get along really well as your hunting styles were scarily similar at times, and your personalities rivaled each other. But yet, you didn’t know Dean, and he knew you’d rather hunt alone than hunt with someone you didn’t know.

“Sammy, your arm is broken. No offense, but how much help are you really going to be to her? She might as well just do it by herself,” Dean said, and Sam knew that his brother had a point. He was right, as much as he hated to admit it.

Sam sighed, almost defeated. “Alright, alright. You’re…you’re right,” he said, slightly swinging his casted arm. “Just let me give her a heads up first okay?”

You looked out straight in front of you as only darkness could be seen for miles and miles. Your hands had a tight grip on the wheel to the point that your knuckles were almost pale and white. The loudness of your windshield wipers drowned out what you were currently listening to — The Clash.

There was no traffic, no cars— just you, the rain, and the complete darkness except for your headlights. You sighed, thinking about your boyfriend, how conflicted you felt about the whole thing. On one end, you were tired of the bullshit and were ready to call it quits with him. Why be with someone who makes you miserable? You heard your mom’s words echoing in your brain, so loud as if she was sitting right next to you. On the other end, you wanted to give him another chance as people who understood the hunting life was few and far between.

You didn’t necessarily want to be alone, but it was something that started to look more and more appealing. You were 22, still young and had time to find someone. But who? Another hunter? A civilian maybe? No, no civilians, you thought. Too risky. You needed someone that knew the life.

As if snapping you out of your current thought, your phone started ringing, the buzz of it slightly vibrating your seat. Since there were no cars on the road, you pulled off to the side, and answered the phone. "Hey Sammy," you said, "where are you?"

"Hey Y/N, I'm uh...still back at the Bunker," his voice sounded so tired and defeated.

You raised a brow in confusion. "What do you mean you're still back at the Bunker? You're not coming to help me?" You would be lying if you weren't disappointed. Although you had only known Sam for a short amount of time, he was someone that you genuinely enjoyed hunting with; not only because he was a legendary Winchester, but because he treated you like his equal, despite your age.

"Remember when Cas helped me on a case a while back and I ended up breaking my arm?" He said, and you nodded, even though you knew he wasn't able to hear you. But he took your lack of an answer to continue speaking. "Well, it's still broken. And I didn't want to say no when you called for help because you were such a big help to Cas and me, especially me, when Dean were gone."

You didn't want to give the impression that you were disappointed, even though you were. But you understood where Sam was coming from; and the last thing you wanted to do was force him to drive all the way to Tulsa just to sit in the motel room. "I really appreciate you saying yes, even though you're kind of out of commission. It...it really means a lot."

"Listen, I know you can pretty much solve this case in your sleep but..." he paused, sighing, almost as if he was afraid to say the next few words. "Dean offered to help you."

You were completely silent, which was a rarity for you. It wasn't like you didn't appreciate the help, but you were iffy about it as you didn't really like working with people that you weren't really familiar with. Yes, you've heard countless stories from Sam about his brother, and knew he was a good hunter; but the thing that scared you was, when it came down to it, would he just leave you for dead to save himself?

"I know you don't usually work with people you aren't really familiar with but," he sighed again, and you knew if he was in front of you right now, the puppy dog eyes would be in full force. "He's a great hunter, Y/N, and he wouldn't let anything happen to you. If something bad happened to you, he would never be able to forgive himself."

How could you possibly say no when Sam was practically telling you how good of a person his brother was? "Sam —"

"You'd be doing me a big favor, Y/N. I think this case would really help him get back into the swing of things," Sam said. Now you definitely couldn't say no.

You took a deep breath, sighing. "Okay," you said simply, giving in to Sam’s plead.

"Thanks Y/N, seriously," his tone sounding a bit happier now that you agreed. "I already gave him the address to the motel we agreed to meet at. He should hopefully be there right around the same time as you are."

"But you guys are almost six hours away," you stated with a raised brow. "Is he teleporting there?"

Sam chuckled at your comment. "No, no. He uh...he's a bit of a speed demon," Kind of like you, he wanted to add.

"Ah, so like me," you said. Sam couldn't help but smile at the comment, finding it funny that you had thought the exact same thing as he had. "Alright. Um, does he need my phone number or?"

"I kind of...already...gave it to him...sorry..." his words trailed off, almost embarrassed, like you had caught him red handed. You sighed, slightly annoyed. You didn't like when others gave out your phone number without asking you first, but then again, your boyfriend — which was soon to be your ex — was something he did quite often behind your back.

"He still driving the impala?" You asked, but before Sam could answer you, you continued with your thought, answering your own question. "Never mind, that was a stupid question," you slightly chuckled to yourself. "Of course he's still driving the impala."

Dean held the steering wheel tightly in his hands, loving the feeling of the leather at his fingertips. It had been far too long since he'd driven Baby, and it was one of the things that he truly missed while he was gone. "It's just a car Sam," his words rang out; and those words gutted him, because Baby wasn't just a car: she was home.

As he drove, his music was low, not loud like he usually preferred it, as he was currently admiring the simplicity of his surroundings. The rain hitting the windshield and being quickly wiped away, the darkness of the road that was only lit up by Baby's headlights. He felt comfortable and at ease; something driving always helped him to feel. He felt at home right now.

You didn't really know what to feel right now as you were debating back and forth on how your first meeting with the infamous Dean Winchester was going to go. According to Sam, the two of you would get along great, as he's made comments along the lines of, "You sometimes scarily remind me of Dean," which you weren't sure if you should take as a compliment or not.

Some of the stories Sam had told you about Dean impressed you, but then there were some where you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the stupidity. With some stories, you wondered how he wasn't dead already, then again, both Winchester's have died and came back countless times as death didn't seem to stick. You couldn't help but wonder what made them so special. Maybe they are God's favorites, you thought; and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Pulling into the motel parking lot, you let out a small laugh, seeing Dean's impala already in the parking lot. He really is a speed demon, you thought. Wonder what time he got here? You wondered.

As soon as you parked your vehicle, your phone began buzzing, and you looked at the name on the caller ID. Your blood started boiling seeing your boyfriend's name. "You have to be fucking kidding me," you mumbled to yourself.

At first, you were going to ignore the call, as maybe he would think you were still driving. But there was no way you would be able to give that illusion as there was no traffic on the road when you left because of the time. With gritted teeth, you answered the call, trying your absolute best to remain calm. "Hey," was all you said.

"You get to the motel yet?" He asked, his tone implying that he already had that knowledge somehow.

"I just pulled in," your answers were short, as you were still mad at him from before. Although driving was one of the things that calmed you down and made you feel at peace, for some reason, this argument in particular really made you angry.

"You said you would call me when you got to the motel," he sounded mildly annoyed, but disappointed at the same time.

You rolled your eyes. "Fucking hell," you mouthed. "I just pulled in. You didn't give me enough time to even call or text you." You took a deep breath, feeling yourself getting ready to boil over. "This is me telling you that I have reached the motel and may not be able to talk to you over the next couple of days, okay?" You weren't asking him; you were telling him; trying to make it clear that you couldn't talk to him. Of course you would be able to, but you didn't want to, as this case was a way for you to get the edge off. It was a way to kill something without killing him.

"I love you," he said, and for some reason him saying those three little words surprised you. He rarely said them to you, even though it was something that you had said to him regularly. The only times he ever seemed to say those three little words to you was during or after sex, or when the two of you had gotten into a rather nasty argument.

You didn't want to say it back to him, as love was the very last thing you felt for him in this moment. But you almost felt like you needed to, so he wouldn't feel like anything was wrong between the two of you. Then again, you didn't want to gaslight him the same way he always seemed to gaslight you. "I'll see you in a few days," was how you decided to answer, as those were the most genuine words you felt you could say to him.

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 2 (Not yet available)

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader #the 15 year problem

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sparklingcid3r · 26 days

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ik we get ponyboys perspective of wut happened to darry after his parents died (most literally the book) but wut do u think was sodas perspective of watching darry before their parents died as the most popular guy in school/going to college then essentially have to become and be stuck as the one thing darry most obviously did not want to be (stuck in tulsa/ not gt college)

darrys life is underrated tragedy fr

Before I get into this complete devastation I want to direct you to this post! Not exactly the same, but it made me want to walk into traffic 🥰

So anyway, this was super interesting to consider. I imagine Soda definitely looking up to Darry as the stud, the golden child, literally just the coolest guy ever. He had Soc friends, he had greaser friends, and could square up with pretty much anyone who was dumb enough to want the equivalent of a baseball bat to the jaw.

And on top of that, Darry was on a one-track train out of Tulsa, heading out to college soon. In Soda’s eyes, Darry had everything and he was real damn happy with it.

So when all of their lives just crashed around them, Soda obviously had his own problems to deal with before he took notice of anyone else’s. But when his own dust settled and he could see a little more clearly, the change in Darry was definitely obvious. For the first month or so, Darry was just kind of numb. He went through all the necessary proceedings stoically, robotically, never let Soda in on anything regarding child services or the state or boys homes. Sometimes, when they were sitting at the table trying to eat Darry’s best efforts at recipes from their mom’s cookbook, and Pony was too stuck in his own grief moving his food around the plate with his fork, Soda watched Darry get a blank look in his eyes, like he’s staring at something that doesn’t exist, completely detached from reality.

(Soda’s always known that Pony and Darry are more similar than either of them think. Just not in the good ways.)

And for a little, it happened often. Darry comes home from work and sits down in their dad’s recliner, and Soda’s watching the television but in his peripheral he can see Darry drift off to someplace else, and all he can hope is that it’s someplace better.

Soda noticed all the little things. He didn’t smile to himself, didn’t laugh, didn’t tell Pony or Soda to put out their cigs around him, because it didn’t much anymore if he breathed the smoke in. He didn’t talk about his day more than a dismissive wave and that it was fine, he didn’t go out in the evenings.

Darry was against it the entire time, but Soda dropping out of high school seemed to be the thing that officially made him grown in Darry’s eyes. Darry finally pulled him aside when Pony was asleep and together they went through their grocery list, Darry teaching him how to shop cheap, but he always kept things like the bills far away from Soda’s eyes. Soda offered Darry money from the DX, Darry took it, and their lights stayed on and water kept running, but Soda doesn’t know what’s really going on with the numbers. Only Darry does.

Soda knows he’s always been protected by Darry. Since they were little, and even months ago, if Soda ever had any issues with anyone, Darry had his back. Soda didn’t think he was naive about much of anything, but he realizes pretty quickly that Darry will never let anyone have his back the way he does everyone else. Sure, Darry can lean on him, but he’ll be right back to the grind the second he can.

Seeing Darry go from wearing his college sweatshirt into town to his battered work clothes and tool belt placed a guilt in Soda’s heart that he couldn’t ever shake. The worst part was that he never complained about it, not to them. Soda’s beyond grateful to Darry, he’ll never make up for it for as long as he lives. But at the same time he just wants his brother back, and he knows it’ll never happen.

The more I write about Soda the more I love him, ty for helping give my guy some justice🙏 (i hope this is kind of what u wanted to hear abt, sorry if i just yapped in ur ear abt nothing lmfao)

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders sodapop #sodapop curtis #the outsiders darry #darry curtis #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders fanfiction

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avroravia · 2 months

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☆ desert eagle. - I ☆

pairings: trailer park!dallas winston x f!trailer park!reader

summary: dallas can’t seem to keep himself from the pretty girl wandering throughout the park, now can he? but, it seems neither can she.

warnings: f!reader, swearing, familial descriptions, outfit descriptions, may not be time accurate (?)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

the blazing summer sun of tulsa beat down onto the park, yet everybody seemed unbothered. children continued running around, water guns in hand as they seamlessly weaved through all the trailers. teens funded the gas stations and mini-marts, with icees and cokes in hand as they flocked to the shade. adults were either at work, or running errands throughout tulsa.

wiping the sweat off of his forehead, dallas shut the hood of the car. he tossed his borrowed-box of tools onto the grass, before making his way to the entrance of the car owner’s trailer. living in the park wasn’t necessarily bad, just mundane. going from odd-job to odd-job, then party to party.

dallas’ boots thudded along the metal ramp towards the entrance. met with the sight of an open door, he rapped his knuckles against the frame before peeking his head inside. dallas didn’t see the woman who had originally ‘hired’ him, but rather a younger girl. you. your head perked up from the small mini fridge’s door, which you seemed to be stocking.

“money’s on the table.” you told him, gaze returning to your chores.

dallas examined the trailer further, narrow brown eyes darting from the dusty chandelier to the bruised wooden floors. despite the years of use, it was still relatively clean. he could see the crumpled 10$ bill on the dinner table, which he stuffed into the pocket of his dark-washed jeans.

as you stood up, dallas’ gaze was averted to you. he had known of you, but he never held more than a two second conversation with you. dallas recognized you as ‘angela’s best friend,’ having seen you many times in the shepard’s trailer when he went to visit tim.

once dallas’ brain had made the connection, he turned to actually look at you. he took in the sight of your brown, beat-up cowboy boots, low-rise denim shorts far too short for any mother’s taste, and a cropped budweiser shirt. with your lower midriff exposed and a hand on your hip, you waited for him to say something, anything.

“you- you’re angel’s friend, huh?” dallas asked, almost instantly regretting it. he thought his words were stupid.

“something like that, yeah.” you responded, a faint southern accent showing through.

stepping closer to him, you had an almost sinister smile on your glossed lips. you placed a manicured hand onto his exposed shoulder and slightly swayed your hip outward, making butterflies bloom from every crevice in his guts. regardless, dallas kept his unamused expression. brows furrowed and his drowsy brown eyes narrow per usual.

“s’dallas, right?” you drawled, thumb toying with the thick strap of his white tank top.

dallas only hummed in response. something about you seemed so enticing to him. it drew him in like a sailor to a siren, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. despite the mixed feelings, dallas would be a liar if he said he didn’t like the feeling of your hands on his skin, or the way you looked at him.

“well, dallas,” you mused, “i’ll see you around then...”

he watched as you returned to tidying up the trailer, before taking your words as a cue to leave. stepping out the trailer, dallas shut the door behind him. his thoughts were kept clouded with the memory of you, and he swore he could still feel your soft hands on the skin of his shoulder.

grabbing the tool box, dallas made a mental note to return it to buck. though, the thought was quickly replaced with you. as he walked home, dallas looped your voice in his head, particularly the way you said his name.

man, would dallas get his kicks in with you...

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed this little drabble! i’m planning on making it a little series, on how tp!reader and tp!dallas first met along with the beginning of their relationship. once im satisfied, it’ll probably just be random moments in their relationship from then on. i’m also happy to take requests on these two and all my other readers >:)) my ask box has been so dry lately lmaoo!

#tp!dallas winston #tp!reader #dallas winston #dallas winston prompt #amar’s writing <3 #dally winston x reader #dallas winston x reader

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ambrozjas · 7 months

Note

Could you do a song-fic with Sodapop Curtis w/ the song "Stupid Cupid" by Connie Francis? Love your writing, take your time 💕

stupid cupid ꨄ︎

sodapop curtis x fem!reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

THIS WAS SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG BUT I LITERALLY LOCKED IN FOR THIS FIC ITS SO CUTE I SWEAR JUST READ ITTT

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

reader is referred to as a girl and a lady, reader is called gorgeous and beautiful, beginning of this fic has soda in highschool so it takes place before the outsiders

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

1609 words, 8588 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

stupid cupid, you’re a real mean guy

i’d like to clip your wings so you can’t fly

it felt like the roman god of love had shot sodapop right through the heart, and boy did soda hate it. that’s all that he thought while he gazed at you, chin held in palm as he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. when the school air had a chokehold on everybody, it left out you. you looked absolutely divine. soda wondered if the gods, if there were any or it was just some stories made up to fill the minds of lovesick kids like himself, favored you. because as he looked at you, the sun just seemed to reflect off you just right, to where it coated the side of your face with a honey orange. you looked like an angel sent on earth, disguised as a teenager in soda’s highschool. he asked himself what you were doing in tulsa rather than some other fancy state like california.

i’m in love and it’s a crying shame

and i know that you’re the one to blame

“mr. curtis.” a stern voice broke through to sodapop, breaking the stained glass that in soda’s mind, was a mural of you and only you.

he snapped his neck to look up at the teacher, hovering over his desk as a finger harshly pointed at the paper on soda’s desk, almost empty.

“uh—sorry, sir.” mumbled sodapop as he grabbed his pencil and put his best thinking face on, hoping that the teacher would take the hint and retreat back to his old scratched up desk that looked like it had survived world war one.

the teacher narrowed his eyes at him, his upper lip curling into a sneer as he looked down at soda, before slowly walking back to his desk.

soda comically sighed in relief, taking one more glance back at you. he pressed his lips together tightly as he saw you talking to your friends. he always loved seeing you smile.

he exhaled sharply, earning another warning look from his teacher. soda tilted his head down as he studied the math problems below him, cradling his hand in his hand as his brain tried his best to work.

hey, hey set me free

stupid cupid, stop picking on me

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

i cant do my homework and i cant think straight

“what’s up with you?” ponyboy asked, not looking up from his book. in the corner of his eye, he watched sodapop bounce his leg vigorously as he tried to rub his temples to somehow think better.

“nothin’, pony. don’t worry ‘bout it.” soda responded. he threw his head back to lean on the top of the chair, he was really out of ideas. all that occupied his mind was you. he was writing an essay? you pop up into his brain, he accidentally writes your name to which he has to erase afterwards with red ears.

i meet her every morning ‘bout half past eight

i’m acting like a lovesick fool

you even got me carrying your books to school

how could sodapop miss this once in a lifetime opportunity? he just had to talk to you. one day, when you guys met before school, your breath both evident in the cold oklahoma morning, you made a joke about soda carrying your stuff for you.

“here, be a gentleman, yeah?” a laugh slipper past your lips, and when soda heard that gorgeous sound come out of your mouth, how could he deny you?

your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape, not even getting the word out before soda grabbed the books from under your arm and held them under his.

you tilted your head as a smile graced your face. gosh, were there wedding bells? soda definitely heard them.

“y’know i was jokin’, right?” you asked, making sure you weren’t forcing him into doing anything. “i can take them back if you want—“

“nah, it’s alright.“ he brushed it off, waving his free hand dismissively before starting again, “plus, you’re right. how could i leave a pretty lady to carry her books on her own?” to that, you sheepishly grinned wider as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear shyly when you looked away.

you mixed me up for good right from the very start

hey now, go play robin hood with somebody else’s heart

the more that soda talked with you, the harder it was to get you out of his head. but the more he talked with you, the less he minded.

soda had dropped out of school. sure, you somewhat contributed to him failing with how much you occupied his head, but it was also on his own.

he was working at the dx with steve, working on cars all day to especially help darry out.

soda wiped his face with his forearm, cleaning his oily rag as steve rambled about something in the background. he hadn’t seen you in awhile, considering that instead of walking with you to school, darry had dropped steve and soda off at work.

but suddenly, the door tripped the bell, giving it a loud ring as soda looked up at who was walking through the door. and speak of the devil.

he could recognize you just from your sneakers. his head whipped back up to meet your eyes, and gosh was it refreshing to see your face again. a soft smile still remained on your face, as it usually did.

“sodapop! so you really was workin’ here, huh?” you asked, eyes roaming around the multitude of shelves in the gas station interior.

soda’s mouth gaped, opening and closing like a fish. he watched as you walked up to the register and drummed your hands lightly on the counter.

“yeah!”, soda finally managed to blurt out, “how’ve you been? anythin’ new happen at school?” he asked, hearing steve finally shut up. soda could just imagine his ears pricking up at the sound of a pretty girl’s voice appearing.

“nothin’ much,” you leaned in and put a hand to the side of your mouth in a secretive manner, “mandy got pregnant.” soda gasped as he comically brought a hand up to his mouth. you guys whispered and gossiped, steve eyeballing both of you cautiously before slinging an arm around soda’s shoulders and brashly giving him a loud, “who’s this, soda?”

sodapop squinted at his friend and slowly turned his head, full of embarrassment. your eyes darted between the two of them, before giving steve a small wave and quietly giving him your name. your eyes fell back on soda, “well, i was just wonderin’ if you’d like to go to the drive-in wit’ me on saturday?”

“yeah, sure!” why was he acting like such a dork now? in front of the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen? but he sighed with relief when you nodded, giving him the same sweet smile you always greeted him with.

you got me jumping like a crazy clown

and i don’t feature what you’re putting down

once you had left the dx, soda went out to the garage and almost squealed, punching the air in excitement. steve narrowed his eyes as he watched through the garage windows, genuinely considering if soda was possessed or not.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

saturday couldn’t come quicker. it was already a great time leading up to the date, soda was confident. he was looked at himself in the mirror, popping his collar with assertiveness and heading out the door.

during the actual date, he tried to make subtle moves. shifting closer to you, touching thighs or linking pinkies. although you seemed okay with it, there was no engagement on your part. that almost worried soda, he knew you asked him on a date, but he was still overthinking. was he not all you expected? was he doing too much? too little?

but at the end of the date, when he drove you home in darry’s car that he begged to drive in, a small silence fell over you when you had reached your destination.

“y’need me to walk you up?”

“it’s alright, but do me a quick favor, will you?” soda couldn’t tear his eyes off your mouth when you spoke, lips painted a wine maroon color that somehow flowed so delicately with your words.

“anything.” was all soda said, before you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, giving him enough time to pull away, before closing your eyes and kissing him.

in that moment, it felt like you two were the only people in the world. just you, and soda, crammed into darry’s truck in the darkness of the night, only illuminated by the small light above you two on the car’s roof.

when you pulled away, you looked at soda’s lips, slightly parted and stained with a light purple-ish red as he looked at you, absolutely mesmerized.

“thank you. i’ll make sure to drop by the dx on my way home, ‘kay?” you said, not waiting for an answer as you bolted out of the vehicle due to your nearing curfew.

well since i’ve kissed her loving lips of wine

the thing that bothers me is that i like it fine

all soda could do was gape as he watched you depart into the sea of outside lights surrounding your front door and windows, watching you turn around give him a small wave once you opened the front door.

still dazed, all soda could do was wave back. before a wide grin appeared on his face as he covered his eyes with his hands.

stupid cupid, sodapop thought.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this better get some likes i worked my ass off for this little fic and it’s only a thousand words 😭😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #i love sodapop omg #literally my bae #sodapop blurb #sodapop the outsiders #sodapop x reader #sodapop imagine #the outsiders sodapop #i’m so proud of this fic #my longest one yet #1k words #i legit locked in #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

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listofwhyyouloveher · 3 months

Note

Gang x reader with an ed (Ana) or like had trouble eating cause of there looks

Summary: The Outsiders react to you having anorexia

Warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, eating disorders, bad body image

Author's Note: so excited to release the new series I'm working on!

PONYBOY CURTIS

He's never understood why you struggle with your body image, because to him you're so gorgeous

Don't ask him how he found out about your eating disorder he just did, he has his ways and he can do anything if motivated enough

He begs you to eat with him, asking you what you'd want to eat and he'd eat it with you

JOHNNY CADE

He, at first, didn't know you had an eating disorder, greasers aren't known for having good eating habits in the first place

However, one time when you both went out he noticed how you refused all the food offered

He asked you about it later and finally put 2 and 2 together, he's apologizing for not noticing earlier, and urging you to eat, even if it's just a little at a time

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop has always had it rather easy, he doesn't need to work that hard to keep in shape so he doesn't really understand your plight

He's noticing changes in your mood and how you often go non verbal and get sad recently

He's starting to monitor you after that and notice that he never sees you eat, so every now and then he shows up at your house with your favorite foods in hand.

STEVE RANDLE

Steve absolutely adores your body, every curve and bit makes you look more real to him

He notices when you stop eating but thinks it's because of circumstances and so he doesn't say anything yet

When he finally confronts you, he's more upset than sad, he's really frustrated that you would do this to yourself and made you promise you'd stop

TWO BIT MATTHEWS

Honestly finds you so attractive, thinks you're one of the prettiest girls in Tulsa with the best personality

He noticed when you don't eat because his sister baked some cupcakes for you and you didn't touch them

Tells you that although he understands your struggles, you need to remain healthy not only for you but for him and his sister who looks up to you.

DARRY CURTIS

He's the first to notice your eating habits, you two usually cook and eat together so he notices when you don't touch your food.

He asks you if you wanted to make something else and reminds you of the importance of eating

He knows what's happening since he was in football and had body dysmorphia then so he never forces you to eat but rather uses coercion

DALLAS WINSTON

Dallas’s diet consists of soda, cigarettes and whatever food he mooch off of others, safe to say he doesn't really notice when your food habits change

He notices how much weight you're loosing and tells you to eat more because you look like a skeleton

It takes him a while to understand what an "ed" is, and even after that he doesn't understand why you can't just eat, but every now and then he tries to take you out to get some milkshakes or something

#shroomsroom #clara'sroom #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #steve randle x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #darry curtis x reader #two bit mathews x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader

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billkaulitzwife · 4 months

Text

The Outsiders Coping With a Breakup

(ps guys im not over it leave me alone(i also watched the notebook and i hate myself))

Ponyboy

Reading or writing.

How could you ever hurt this little freshman boy he‘s such a sweetheart

He would probably silently cry into a pillow until he thought his lungs were about to collapse or cave in

if this was now … he‘d chain smoke and listen to lana del rey while looking out a moonlit window

he definitely listens to Elvis to get over it.

I don’t know what exactly he would read to get over it but probably some sad ass Edgar Allan Poe. Annabelle Lee lookin ass.

He‘d write the most heart breaking

tear dripping

heavy breathing sad poetry ever.

show him a romance novel.

he’d never stop reading them until he got over it.

just the bare thought of it drives him nuts.

so he reads.

Johnny

if you hurt this man he would probably hurt himself.

he would dream bout it and wake up in cold sweats, tears running down his face.

in all honesty

i think he‘d be artistic with it

he’d somehow turn each and every single tiny thought into something about you

whether it be thinking about a teddy bear then contorting it into nothing but an image of you and him.

he would never be able to look at the places you went together the same.

he would be an artist.

hand him a pencil and he’ll make your heart break and ache.

might etch and sketch on himself to see if you still care.

ps you obviously do.

Dallas

Doesn’t know how.

All this man does is sleep, drink, fuck, repeat.

being honest this manwhore is probably gonna screw every hoe in Tulsa to try and get his mind off of it,

but every path leads back to what he knows best.

he would smoke more,

party more,

drink away all his problems, etc before facing a problem head on.

people may see him as this

uhh

violent gang member hoodlum kid guy man

but deep down hes really just a kid who wishes he couldve given his momma one more hug

a kid that needed to be loved.

a kid that was never taught how to be loved.

Adelaide

crier.

she’s a big ol’ crier, but it doesnt matter since thats not the only way she copes.

she loves to paint and puts every emotion into her paintings.

she may’ve become a kleptomaniac since she needs the supplies.

the curtis boys would

PERSONALLY

kill you if anything happened to her

one heartbreak and shes done for

love? whats that? it isnt real?

dont hurt her no matter what.

she would also turn to cigarettessss (as if she doesnt smoke enough).

adelaide would develop stage five lung cancer before even admitting that love could in the slightest exist anymore.

Sodapop

working.

soda seems like the kinda guy to go through a breakup and cry a lot

but the only thing that really helped was work.

he’d probably get a raise

yk with how hard and how much he’d be working to get over it.

his siblings would warn him about not overworkimg himself

and guess what.

he didnt listen and got really sick from all the stress.

i know for a fact he would keep away from cigarettes even if someone said they help and he believed it

he would only ever listen to the radio

hoping and praying that when he’d hear a love song he‘d hear your voice

Darrell

probably the most sane of everybody while dealing with his bs

he wld obviously be heart broken

but not to the point he needed some insane coping mechanism.

he would probably meditate.

i mean this is the sixties cmon he’s either gonna do wxxd

or meditate.

as soon as a thought of you came up and his mind started to panic he would sit on the couch and

well.

relax.

he probably has the healthiest coping mechanism he’s definitely got his life together

the others are jealous as fuuuuck

Steve

bro wouldnt eat.

every time he thought about the breakup

he thought it was because he was strong enough

or that he was too chubby for his girl.

one time he passed out while on the way to work and the gang freaked out so bad

they couldnt take him to the hospital so they carried him home and stuck a juice box in his mouth

eventually his ass woke up and they all cheered like the war had just ended “HIP HOORAY!”

but then in all seriousness

he needed to get his weight back up so the curtis kids make him eat at their house

even if he says he ate.

theres always snacks for him laying around thay house from then on out

Two-Bit

drinking.

do i have to explain.

in the novel pony said two-bit was famous for shoplifting and his black-handled switchblade…

but for some reason i know he wouldnt shoplift any more.

(he sure did teach adelaide how to tho)

along with his love for “shopping” you gotta remember he’s a heavy alcoholic

he’d drink away all of his problems and thoughts until he blacked out.

his buddies would think its just your average keith

but in all reality he’s really struggling

even though he seems like the usual drunk happy joking guy

HE IS HURTTT.

okay thanks for watching todays vlog

if u ever need to vent please dont be scared to message me bruv im sure Ik how to help.

#the outsiders 1983 #darry curtis #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #dallas winston #steve randle #two bit mathews #the outsiders headcanons #greasers #adara curtis #the outsiders incorrect quotes #the outsiders x reader

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neil-gaiman · 1 year

Note

Hi Neil. A while back, you came to Tulsa, Oklahoma and gave a talk and a reading and discussed an author who I believe was from around here who had greatly influenced you, whose work is now out of print I believe. I’ve unfortunately forgotten his name. I’m now an archivist student in Tulsa and interested in seeing if I could make some of his work a “holy grail” of my personal old book collection, because your description of his writing was magical. Do you mind telling me his name?

(The most recent addition to my collection was a beautiful 1893 edition of Vanity Fair! It’s my oldest book so far.)

Hi name was R. A. Lafferty - Raphael Aloysius Lafferty.

This book is a good place to start:

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gutsyns · 6 months

Text

Summary: Ridiculously indulgent. I was curious about what Johnnys personality might be like if he had survived the fire and went to prison, etc, and this was the result.

Moving to Tulsa was definitely not on your bucket list of things to do during your first official year of being an adult, and yet here you were.

The place was a paradox; divided between the upper class suburban areas where people paraded around in poodle skirts and pearls, and the other side of things where the houses were worn down, some as far as decrepit, and the glint of steel from a drawn switchblade was more common than a simple, “Hey, how are ya?”

You glance around, weary, as your father and sister unload the van. Once upon a time, you may have found yourself living on the other side of things, rubbing elbows with future soccer moms of Tulsa, making nice with all of the high school baseball stars that would one day take over their fathers car insurance companies, but not anymore. Not since the years of hospital bills, that had built up to the point that college was a mere dream to be scoffed at.

You sigh, kick some dirt. Squint at your new ‘home’. It’s almost identical to all the others around the block, small and kind of run down looking, but at least all the windows are intact and there’s a decent sized porch. Summers in Tulsa, at least, were supposed to be hot and you could almost picture it already; sprawled out on a deck chair, ice cold lemonade in your hand.

If you weren’t working all of the hours that god sends, that is.

“Are you going to stand there looking dim, or are you going to come help us?” Your sister snaps from the back of the van, a few boxes already stacked in her arms.

You scowl at her, but dutifully move forward and take the boxes out of her arms. She sighs, rubbing her forearm against her damp face. Her hair is lank with sweat, face flushed, but she’s still as pretty as she ever is. Blonde and blue eyed, she’s the perfect specimen for California, but you’re not sure how that’s going to translate here in Tulsa. It makes you pause, staring at her as you worry your lip.

“What?” She asks, sharp. “What are you looking at? God, you’re being so strange today.”

“Gee, I wonder why.” You snip back, “Not like we’ve just uprooted our entire lives to move to the bum-fuck of nowhere.”

Your sister scowls at your defensiveness and you glower back, but there’s a sad little voice in your head that wonders at how the two of you got here. You used to be so close. Twins, after all, were generally each others first best friends. And that’s what you had been, for a long time, before your hangout sessions began to be held in hospital rooms instead of the mall, and instead of your biggest worries being what you were going to wear to prom, it was now how were you both going to hold together all of your fathers broken parts?

“Girls.” The aforementioned man chimes in. “That’s enough.”

He sounds disappointed enough that you break eye contact with your sister- a sign of weakness that normally couldn’t be afforded- and scrutinise him. His plaid shirt hangs from his slight frame, and theres a bone-tired air that seems to cling to him. The dark circles under his eyes whisper that there’s not much left of the day for him to see, so you relent and take a pointed step back.

Your father smiles slightly- or, at least tries to. It comes out as more of a grimace, than anything.

“This is supposed to be our new start. Just-“ he breaks off, hissing through his teeth. “Just try to pretend you like each other, okay? At least until we get unpacked, that’s all I ask.”

Guilt tugs at you, so you nod your head without another word and begin to make the trek into the house with the boxes. You plop them down in what you assume will be the living room, glancing around at the cobwebs and dust trails along the window pane.

California suddenly feels like a lifetime away, and a yearning fills you that nearly knocks the breath out of your lungs. You wonder, idly, what your friends back home are doing right now. You picture them laughing, skin warm and glistening under the ever-present sunshine. You close your eyes, and can almost smell the salt of the ocean, feel the warm glow of sunshine against your skin.

But then you open your eyes and you are still here, in this dust infested, shell of a house. You watch your father and sister struggle to get the boxes from the van, bickering under their breaths with one another, and something inside of you seems to go quiet. You shut out the feeling of the sunshine, because what good is it here, in this place?

You push it down, into the same box that you’ve locked away the sound of your mothers laugh, the smell of her favourite perfume, and you shove it deep, deep down. Your fathers right; this is supposed to be a new start.

There’s no room for the past here.

It’s six in the evening before you make your way downstairs, a thin sheet of sweat coating your entire body and pounding in your temples that won’t seem to go away, no matter how much water you throw back.

Between you, your father and your sister, you all managed to make a good amount of progress to the house. It wasn’t even close to being finished, but nothing more would be done tonight.

You comb through the rooms, looking for your sister. You’d left her downstairs around an hour ago as you’d hauled your father, exhausted and heavy limbed, to bed. The two of you had shared a knowing glance when his eyes had started to droop, and it hadn’t taken long for him to succumb to his exhaustion. Unfortunately this was just a new part of normal life, and something that you both inevitably had to deal with.

The downstairs is quiet, no sign of life. You cock your head, ears straining and… is that music?

You follow the low thrum, and it brings your out onto the porch. Your deck chairs from back home have been pushed onto it clumsily, and theres a small table placed between them, portable radio and two tumblr glasses shoved onto it.

Your sister is sprawled out on of the chairs and, when you make a low noise of questioning, she blinks up at you lazily and gestures with a bottle of bourbon.

“Want one?” She questions, and it’s the white flag that’s needed.

“Or ten.” You sigh, sliding into the chair beside her.

It’s quiet for a moment, just the low thrum of the music and the tinkling of glass against glass. The night air is pleasant, warm, and as you shotgun your drink and gesture for another, you almost feel at peace.

“He sleeping?” You sister asks eventually, voice muted.

“Mhm. Gone before his head hit the pillow. He’ll be out until the morning.”

She hums in response, and it is quiet again. You stretch out in your chair, preening in the fading sunlight. The alcohol is making you more relaxed, pliable, and a small smile tugs at your lips as you shield your eyes from the daylight.

“What are you doing out here anyway?”

“Trying to pretend I’m still home.” Your sister says, wistful. “People watching.”

You look at her then, eyebrow arched in question, and she gestures vaguely towards the other side of the street. You lean up on your elbows, squinting, and then finally see what she means.

Across the way is a house that, outwardly, looks much the same as your own. There’s a group of boys out the front of it though, rowdy and boyish as they holler at one another, jumping on each others back, even going as far as to wrestle each other to the dirt. One boy has another in a headlock, while another shouts at them to behave from the front door. Two of them are simply laughing at them from the porch, trails of smoke billowing as the light up their cigarettes.

“Huh.” You comment, interest peaked despite yourself.

Your sister senses this, of course, and sends you a sly grin as she pours you both another drink.

“Should we go say hi?”

You shake your head almost instantaneously.

“Aw, come on.” She pouts. “We’re here for the long haul. Might as well make friends, right?”

You don’t even have time to say just how much of a bad idea that is before she’s jumping up, adjusting her skirt and fluffing her hair as she does so. She stumbles, ever so slightly, and you send a fleeting glance at the bottle of bourbon on the table. Just how many of those had she had before you’d come downstairs?

“How do I look?” She asks, smiling coyly.

Perfect, you don’t say, like always.

Your sister already has an over-blown ego, there’s absolutely no need for you to inflate it any further.

“This is a bad idea.” You say instead. “The people around here aren’t like the ones at home. You heard uncle Miles, this place can be dangerous. Like, real dangerous. Like, killed dead dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes and sends a pointed look towards the boys across the way. They’ve migrated away from jumping on each-other, and are now having a contest to see who can do the best back-flip off of a car. Someone is eating a whole chocolate cake with a fork.

“Yeah, they look real dangerous.” She drawls, shrugging at your dumbfounded face. “Suit yourself. Enjoy trailing around our dust-infested house. I’m going to go find myself some fun.”

She grabs the bottle of bourbon and flounces off the porch without another word. You stare after her for a moment, temples pounding with an on-coming tension headache. It’s a hard burden to bear, being the only person in your family with a lick of common sense.

Stubbornness flares in you as you seethe, watching as your sister hollers a greeting to the bewildered boys, who stop what they’re doing rather abruptly as they watch her approach. You take a small sip of your drink, then another larger one as you watch them hesitantly approach her at the gate.

Screw it, you think, let her make her own mistakes. Why should you always be the one to clean up her messes? So, you stay on the porch and you watch. You watch as she gradually wrangles an invitation into the garden, you watch as the sun begins to fade away and they pass the bottle of bourbon around, you watch as she does her own perfectly executed flip off of one of the cars- which makes you roll your eyes, because you were the one who taught her that- and you watch as, eventually, they all begin to migrate into the house.

And that is where you draw the line- because uncle Miles was very detailed with his warnings about your new found home, and as annoying as she might be on any given day, you’re not about to allow your sister to become a statistic.

Steeling yourself, you force yourself out of the safety of your front porch, and make your way to the other house. It’s about as dark as it’s going to get now, and a cool breeze nips at the exposed skin on your legs. You curse yourself for a moment, forgetting that you were still only in a soft pair of shorts and a tank, but there’s no time to change.

There’s a warm glow coming from the windows of the house, and you can hear rambunctious laughter coming from inside. Gritting your teeth you knock the door, soft at first, then louder when you get no response. There’s a pause in the laughter, soft mumbling, and then light pours into the darkness as the front door opens.

“Well hey there, darlin’.” A clearly inebriated man drawls. “What can we do for ya?”

You take him in for a moment, eyes trailing from his well-worn Mickey Mouse shirt, to his dishevelled greased hair. You blink, fumble for a moment, before finding your words.

“I’d like my sister back, if that’s okay.” You deadpan, leaning forward to knock the door away from his sprawled arm, almost making him topple forward in the process.

“Hey, just wait a damn minute-“ he yelps, affronted, but you push past him and storm into the house.

Multiple pairs of bewildered eyes stare at you but you ignore them, scanning the room for your sister. As soon as you do, you resist the urge to smack a hand to your forehead and grind your teeth once more.

She’s perched in the lap of a man- a man who is giving you an extremely nasty glare- and she is absolutely wasted. Her skirt is askew, blonde hair dishevelled and her eyes narrow in on you, glassy, as she gives you a dopey smile and a little two-fingered salute.

“Oh hey twin!” She crows, words slurring. “You finally made it to the party.”

“Twin?” You hear someone mumble. “They sure don’t look like twins.”

You flush, despite yourself. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, but it prods at old insecurities and gets your back up all the same. You glare at the general direction of where the voice came from, before focusing back on your sister.

“Home. Now.” Your voice leaves no room for argument, but she’s not picking up on it.

“Don’t be a party pooper.” She pouts, twirling a strand of the mans blonde hair around her finger. He responds with a cool, measured smile that makes your temper skyrocket.

Without warning you charge further into the room and towards your sister, cheeks flushed.

“Are you actually kidding me right now? We have an entire store to set up tomorrow- or should I say I do, since you’re going to be too hungover to be worth a damn.”

At that your sister stills, before sending you a cutting smile that is all to familiar. You brace yourself, but the words still sting all the same.

“Worth a damn,” She parrots, voice cruel. “We all know the only reason you’re on my ass so much is because, out of the two of us, mom knew I was the only one who would be worth a damn.”

And, god, you know that she’s drunk. You know that she wouldn’t say this sober but, the thing about your sister when drunk, is that she is cuttingly honest. She has a reputation for it and, well, maybe deep down there’s a little voice that’s telling you she isn’t wrong.

It takes the breath from you and you gasp, eyes stinging with tears you refuse to let fall. She too blinks, seeming to realise what she’s said. Her hand flies to her mouth, but you shake your head.

“Go home, now. “ You say softly, voice breaking around the edges. “Or so help me god, I will tell dad about every shady stunt you ever pulled back in California. You want to be the one to explain to him why exactly I bailed you out of jail so many times?”

Her eyes narrow, any hint of remorse disappearing in an instant.

“You wouldn’t.” She hisses.

You send her a measured smile, cocking a brow.

“Try me.”

She jumps up from the boys lap, squealing in frustration. Her shoulder knocks roughly into yours as she storms towards the doorway, and you watch half in dismay and half in exasperation as she totters across the road, stumbling and falling a few times. She was going to give you holy hell tomorrow if her legs were scratched up.

You let out a bark of laughter, though it is sucked dry of any humour. There’s absolutely nothing funny about this entire situation- shit, about your entire life.

“God, this day sucks.” You say to no one in particular.

There’s an extraordinarily loud silence in the room, and then-

“Uh- hey, sweetheart. It’s okay. Anything we can do to help ya?” A voice says, sounding unsure and half terrified.

You blink, glancing around the room. Multiple pairs of eyes stare back at you, looking absolutely horrified. You feel a sudden dampness on your face and, with no small feat of embarrassment, realise that you’re crying in a room full of strange men that you have to share your new neighbourhood with.

The one that spoke just has to be about the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen; golden hair, soft and fine, and the most expressive eyes. His full lips are turned down into a sympathetic expression as he stares at you, and you feel yourself flush a bright, brilliant red in response.

“Uh, no, I’m good.” You stutter out, mortified. “I’m awfully sorry about barging in like this.”

The full extent of your actions hit you like a brick to the gut, and you’re so embarrassed that you find you can’t look any of them in the eye.

“S’all right. Lord knows it’s been gettin’ awful tame ‘round these parts. We were all overdo a bit of excitement.” His tone is encouraging, but you don’t dare look at him again.

“I should really get back.” You stutter out, staring determinedly at the wall. “Y’know, make sure she’s okay.”

“Sure.” His soft voice returns. “Hey, Johnnycakes, you mind walking her back?”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary-“

You say, at the same time the mean looking blonde pipes up.

“Why’s Johnny gotta do the charity work?”

Someone steps forward though, directly into your line of vision, and you gasp when you see them. A dark haired boy, tall in a lanky- stretched out kind of way. He’s clad in denim jeans and a black t-shirt, dark skin scattered with discoloured markings that your brain somehow associates with those of burns.

His eyes assess you as you take him in- and, god. His eyes. You’ve never seen eyes like that, so dark that they’re basically black, framed with lashes that would make any girl green with envy. It’s his facial expression that gets you more than anything though: completely stoic, not letting anything in or out.

He’s just about the most intimidating person you’ve ever seen.

“I don’t mind none.” He says, voice deep and raspy. “S’long as you don’t.”

You feel as though this is a test, somehow. He’s watching you, eyes flat and blank, but it’s like he’s waiting for something. What, you don’t know, but it feels important nonetheless.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Johnny.” A younger looking boy pipes up, smiling shyly when you make eye contact with him. “He’s the best of us, really.”

You take a deep breath, eyeing Johnny. He stares back, impassive, then quirks an eyebrow in question.

“Well- sure, then. I guess. Thank you.”

He nods once as he grabs a denim jacket from the sofa, still impassive and then makes an aborted gesture towards the door. You follow him, shaky, but a voice stops you before you can fully exit the threshold.

“Hey, wait a sec.”

An older man approaches, tall and muscular. He looks the oldest of the bunch, maybe mid-twenties and he’s sporting an apologetic look on his face, hand outstretched with a full bottle of bourbon in it.

“Take this. Them hooligans in there just about polished off the whole of your bottle, s’only fair.”

You stare at him for a moment, wide-eyed, before shaking your head in protest.

“Oh no, really, it’s fine. Looks like my sister certainly had her fair share of it anyway.”

There’s no point in trying to explain that there’s never exactly a shortage of liquor at your place, that you all share the same vices when it comes to coping with life- or, more specifically, the curveballs that it liked to throw.

The man is insistent though, going as far as to lean forward and press the bottle into your hands.

“Take it as a sorry then. We’re really not that bad over here, honest. I’m Darry. That one there is my brother Soda-pop.“ He gestures to the handsome one with the soft voice, who smiles, then to the little shy one. “And that there’s my other kid brother, Ponyboy.”

You blink at him, wondering if you’re being taken. When his expression doesn’t change, you offer a wry smile.

“Unique names.”

“You bet.” He offers a smile in return, then hesitates. “We really are sorry ‘bout your sister. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, she just seemed like she was looking for a friendly face.”

You snort at that, grasping the bottle none-too gently and giving a short eye roll.

“That she was. I’m just glad she found you guys instead of-“

You break off, not wanting to offend them. Darry nods though, grim understanding painted on his face. He scrubs a hand through his hair and gives a curt nod towards your house.

“Nah, you’re right to worry. Ain’t much good about this neighbourhood, but we’re not the ones to be worried about. Get on home now, yeah? Johnny won’t let nothin’ happen to ya.”

He looks at the other boy- man?- over your shoulder, who gives a curt nod in response. With a small smile, Darry shuts the door, taking any of the light that was pooling through with him. You take a sharp breath, suddenly unnerved, and feel Johnny’s eyes on you in the night.

Christ, this whole situation is insane. Why did you agree to let a strange man walk you home? The normal, rational part of your head is screaming at you right now. This is exactly how every horror movie starts, and you’ve walked yourself right into it.

“You fixin’ on sleeping on the Curtis’ porch tonight, or am I walkin’ ya home?”

His raspy voice brings you out of your own head and you gasp, spinning so that you’re now facing him. You can’t see what his expression is doing, but his words make you think he might be making fun of you. Though his voice stays perfectly blank, there’s something in it that you pick up on as nearly taunting.

“Well?” He presses once more, and you glower at him.

“Alright, Jesus. Let’s go then.”

Both of you are silent as you walk, the shifting of gravel under your feet seeming louder than usual. There’s a loud holler from down the street, followed by the smashing of glass and you jump, glancing frantically in the direction it came from.

“S’alright.” Johnny says. “It’s way on down the street. They won’t bother ya. Only fight that types got these days is with each-other.”

You glance up at him, and half of his face is lit up by the streetlights. He glaring straight ahead, jaw tight, clearly uncomfortable. You can’t help but feel bad.

“I really am sorry about all of this.”

Johnny’s jaw loses some of its tension, and he side-eyes you.

“It ain’t a problem. I really don’t mind walkin’ ya home. I’ll be headin’ back myself anyways.”

“Seems a bit silly to be walking me across the street though, no?” You ask, hesitant, but curious now that he seems to be opening up a little to conversation.

Johnny gives a small huff, eyes darting around the empty streets as he does so.

“Round these parts? Ya can never be too careful, doll.”

Something in your brains freezes, restarts and then goes on overdrive at his casual use of the pet name. You can practically feel your face glow, and it doesn’t help that you just know his eyes are on you. You choke slightly and trip over your own two feet, but strong hands grip your forearms and stop you from falling on your face. You glance up, and Johnny is looking right back at you. There’s something a little warmer in that obsidian than before, and it has your stomach doing confusing somersaults.

“Easy there.” He says quietly. “Ya alright?”

“Peachy.” You breathe. “You?”

He stares at you for a beat, confused maybe by the question, before letting out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m alright. You go and get yourself inside now, okay? No more roamin’ around in the dark.”

When you glance up, the both of you are standing outside of your house. The porch light is still on, the radio from before still playing lowly on the table. You can see that light in the room your sister has claimed is still on, but the likely hood of her actually being awake is probably slim-to- none. Your fathers room remains dark, just as you left it. It’s strange to think that he could have slept through all of this; he never would have before.

An odd ache of loneliness creeps through your bones, wholly unexpected. You glance up at Johnny who looks like he’s getting ready to turn on his heel, contemplating.

“Do you want to come in?” You blurt out, not giving yourself a chance to take the words back.

Johnnys eyebrows all but crawl into his hairline. It’s the most expressive you’ve seen him all night. His dark skin flushes and, shit, it’s only then that you realise the double-standard behind your words.

“Not like that-“ you flounder, “I just meant-“

Soft laughter cuts you off and, in that moment, you wish furiously that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Anything would be better than this humiliation.

“Probably best I don’t.” He replies, gallantly attempting to taper off his amusement. “It’s late and I’ve work in the mornin’. “

“Yeah. Gotcha.” You choke out. “Look, thank you for walking me home. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

You’re about to spin around and launch yourself into the house but quick, deft fingers loop around your wrist and hold you steady. Johnny’s fingers brush lightly against your pulse point and, when you get the courage to glance up him once more, there’s something tentative in his expression. His dark eyes churn, and an almost-smile tugs slightly at his lips.

“See ya around.” He echos, thumb brushing your wrist firmly once more before he lets go, turning on his heel and striding down the dark street.

You stand there for a moment, dumbfounded, and watch him disappear. The moment is quickly shattered when another scream echoes down the street, however, followed by a deafening crash. You hurry up the porch, rushing into the house and locking the door behind you.

For a moment you remain still, back pressed against the front door. Your heart is thudding against your chest, and it’s not from fear- well, not exactly. You don’t know how to categorise this feeling. The only word that springs to mind is the very thing you spent your entire night trying to prevent;

Trouble.

#the outsiders #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #dallas winston #two bit mathews #darry curtis #steve randle #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #idk man #fic writing

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pedrito-friskito · 3 months

Text

// track 1 - fortnight //

-> welcome officially to TTWD! (kay’s version). first on our track list is some sweet, smutty lovin’ from my favourite lover boy, marcus pike🤍

word count: 2.5k

warnings: drinking, meet-cute, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it before u tap it), marcus is a pleasure dom we all know this, kay knows nothing about the FBI LOL

Marcus has always hated paperwork. Finds it tedious, though he knows it’s necessary, but he loathes it, much preferring to celebrate a job well done than to rehash his assignment alone in his office.

It’s that exact hatred that had him sneaking out of the building, heading in the direction of the bar not far from his temporary workplace, one he’d visited earlier in the week with a few friends.

He’s only here for a few weeks, two to be exact. And with the way things are going, he has a feeling he’ll be heading back to Washington earlier than anticipated. He doesn’t mind the travel, it’s always been a perk of the job, though he knows it’s probably part of the reason he has yet to settle down.

After the fiasco in Austin with Robin, he’d sworn off dating for a while. Washington was a fresh start in every sense, but no sooner had he unpacked his bag, they were sending him to Maine on a job, then to Seattle, then Colorado, then Tulsa, the list went on and on. For a stretch of at least four months, he hadn’t even set foot in his apartment, living out of a bag and becoming far too accustomed to sleeping on those godawful chairs in the airport.

Seattle had been a highlight, however.

You were the commanding officer of your division, as much of an art geek as Marcus, and damn good at your job. Marcus had fallen easily into step beside you, and his week-long visit was shorted to a weekend after your success, but he found himself lingering, hesitant to tell his own CO that the job was done. He knew the news would make its way up the flagpole regardless, but he wanted to stay.

Wanted to know you better.

You let him, the pair of you starting with a dinner that was so full of conversation that you didn’t realize the place was closing until your polite-as-hell waiter gently suggested you head across the street to a 24-hour diner with the best cup of coffee in the city. You’d headed over, Marcus holding an umbrella over you both against the sudden downpour.

He lost count of the cups of coffee, enraptured by the way your hand kept inching closer to his on the tabletop, how your gaze flickered between his mouth and his eyes. On a whim, he reached out, curling his fingers around yours and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

The rain outside had thinned to a drizzle, and he leaned across the table. “You wanna get out of here?”

It was you who ended up taking him home, to the small house near the coast you called home. “Much nicer than whatever hotel they have you in, I can guarantee,” you commented as you fumbled with the lock.

The moment you were over the threshold, he had your face in his hands and was brushing his mouth over yours, the taste of coffee lingering on both your tongues, Marcus stepping forward so you would step back, until your shoulders hit the wall and he could press himself against you.

You took him to bed, and called in the next day, more content to spend the day with him. You didn’t leave the bedroom much, and the week progressed like that, wrapped up in sex and conversation and coffee, until Marcus’s phone rang and the bubble popped.

“We need you in Colorado. Your flight leaves in four hours.”

He saw it move through your face, then you shrugged and said, “It’s the job. I get it.”

He didn’t want to leave. But he had to. You said over and over that you understood, and when he asked if you could stay in touch, that maybe this could work, your eyes clouded.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Marcus.”

Crushed, he got himself drunk in the airport bar, and by morning, he had a new assignment, and knew he had to put you behind him.

Fate, however, seems to have another plan in mind.

Stepping into the bar, he sighs, heading toward the same stool he’d occupied a few nights ago, when a familiar face catches his eye. His heart stutters in his chest as he reaches his seat, letting his suit jacket slide off his shoulders.

Your hair is shorter than he remembers — maybe a trim, maybe his mind is playing tricks on him — but the rest is the same. Better, somehow, like a restored painting in his mind as he drinks you in again like it’s the first time. Perched at the bar, your fingers curled around a glass, one heeled foot floating in the air.

He recognizes those heels. He took you out for dinner another night in Seattle, and when you got home that night, he told you to keep them on. And you did. He felt the marks in his back for weeks, but it was worth it.

He orders a scotch, knowing he’s going to need more than a little courage. But how is he going to play this? What’s the best way to—

“Marcus?”

You’ve made the decision for him, your excited gaze meeting his across the few stools separating you. There’s a light in your eyes he remembers, knows you’ve probably had more than one drink, and that your next will be water. You had a system, he remembers you telling him.

The bartender slides him his drink, and Marcus takes it over to where you’re sitting, sinking into the stool beside you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You grin wider. “Of all the gin joints in all the world…”

His heart does that stuttering thing again. “You finally watched Casablanca?”

“I did,” you reply, nodding, looking up at him through your lashes. “Cried like a baby.”

“Told you.” Tossing back some of his scotch, he signals the bartender to bring you a water. “I can’t believe it.”

You’re still smiling, your head cocked slightly to the side. “You know, I had the strangest feeling I was going to run into you? It sounds insane, I’m sure.”

“Not insane,” he shakes his head, setting his glass down inches from yours. If he straightened his fingers, he could brush the tips along yours. “I’m calling it fate.”

“Fate?”

He nods, taking a healthy sip of his drink. Liquid courage. “I’ve been wanting to call you since I left Seattle.”

You scoff. “It’s been three months, Marcus.”

He leans forward, contemplating putting his hand on your knee but thinking better of it. “I know, and I feel awful. I just…didn’t know what to say. When I left, it didn’t exactly sound like you wanted to hear from me again.”

“I didn’t,” you say bluntly, sipping your drink and mumbling thank you as the bartender brings you your water. “It wasn’t going to work; we both knew that.”

“And yet, here we are.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Fate, huh?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Or something like it. I’ve missed you. A week wasn’t nearly long enough.”

Your gaze meets his and lingers, flickering between his mouth and his eyes. “How long are you in town for?”

“Two weeks,” he answers. “Maybe less. I’m on assignment, but I plan to stay right through. Been slacking on my paperwork. Then once I get back to Washington, I’m hoping to stay in one spot for a while. What about you?”

“Two weeks,” you echo, and he grins.

“Fate, I tell you.”

“We shouldn’t do this again,” you say, leaning back slightly, your brow pinching. “Rekindle what we had just to have it pulled away again? It isn’t fair, Marcus.”

Defeat sinks onto him like a weighted blanket around his shoulders, and he tosses back the rest of his drink, the glass feeling like lead in his hand. “You’re right, it’s not—”

“We shouldn’t,” you cut him off, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Before he can get another word out, you’ve got your fingers curled around his tie, tugging him down your level. Your lips are soft, tasting faintly of lime and mint, and Marcus can’t help himself. His free hand dives into your hair, fingers locking around the strands, tugging until your lips part against his and he can kiss you more thoroughly, tongue stroking yours.

You pull back with a soft moan, still gripping his tie. “You wanna get out of here?”

Twenty minutes later, he’s pushing the door of his hotel room open, your fingers linked together.

“Don’t mind the mess,” he starts, but barely gets the words out as the door shuts behind you. It’s his back that hits the wall, a low grunt falling past his lips as you tug on his tie again, using it as leverage to drag yourself closer, closing the distance between your bodies.

Marcus groans as you fit your face into his neck, teeth scraping his pulse as his hands find homes on your hips. Clothes start to fall away, landing in puddles of fabric on the floor until you’re both bare and falling into his unmade bed together. He lays you out on your back, trails kisses right down the front of you, over each hip and along the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t stop until you’re keening, back arching and one hand locked in his hair.

You’re soaked when he strokes his fingers along you, his name sung like a prayer when he presses them inside you. “Fuck,” he grits, curling up and dragging slow, watching the way your body reacts, the way it shapes to him. “Just as tight as I remember.”

You whimper, head falling back as he pushes deeper, seeking out that rough patch inside you, remembering how it made you fall apart before. The hand not in his hair shoots down, fingers wrapped around his wrist, forcing him deeper.

He lowers himself, kneeling at the edge of the bed, surveying how you’re spread out before him, your knee hooked over his arm. “Look at you,” he purrs, dragging his mouth along your thigh again. He can feel your muscles twitch, see the way your breath chokes out. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

Body writhing, your head lifts just enough for your eyes to meet.

“More.”

He’s more than happy to oblige, lowering his mouth to your cunt, laving his tongue around the place you’re split around his fingers. You moan loudly, one hand clapping over your mouth a moment later, and he snakes his free hand up your chest, squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple between his knuckles.

“I want to hear you,” he mumbles against you, moving up ever so slightly to suck your clit between his lips. It makes your whole body go tighter than sin, bearing down on his fingers as your breath hitches. He doesn’t stop, swirling his tongue against your clit, releasing it only to lap at you over and over, his fingers never stopping until you go tighter still, every muscle going taut as you cum, his name moaned over and over until your body starts to go lax.

He pulls his fingers from you slowly, still tonguing at your cunt as he does, pulling away only when you push lightly at his head. He stands slowly, cock hard as a rock against his stomach, and watches your eyes roam up his body as he licks his fingers clean.

“Come here,” you beckon as he leans over the bed, planting a hand on either side of you. Your hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him close. “I still need more, Marcus.”

He doesn’t make you wait long, using his knees to spread your thighs further. His cock taps against your cunt as he lowers his body to yours, and you gasp, finding his mouth with yours. He drinks down your noises as he presses himself inside of you, the pleasure snaking down his spine like a memory.

He’ll be the first to admit that this is what he’s thought of these last three months. You, underneath him, your body soft and pliant and his. It hasn’t been far from his mind, playing like a movie in his mind whenever he’s taken care of himself.

But just like seeing you again in the bar, this is another thing entirely.

Your body accepts everything he has to offer, your heels hooking around his calves, hips rocking up into his. You’re still so fucking tight, and he knows he’s not going to last long, knows that’s why he made sure you came first.

The room fills with the sound of skin-on-skin, with your breathy moans and his quiet grunts. You hook one hand under his ribs, the other finding the back of his head and tugging at his hair, putting your gaze to his. “I want to hear you, too,” you tell him, a sly smile on your face, and he nearly cums on the spot.

He didn’t need the permission, but it unlocks him all the same, the quiet grunts growing louder until he’s all but growling your name in your ear, fitting his face into your neck and biting down as he feels the pleasure coil tighter and tighter until he knows he’s about to cum.

It starts to rip its way through him, and he pulls himself from you, painting the crease of your thigh with his cum, chest heaving. You watch him, eyes darting between his face and his twitching cock. The look on your face tells him you have other plans for him.

Good, because he’s got other plans for you, too.

And fuck the two weeks, he’s not letting you go again.

As you both come down, Marcus having retrieved a cloth from the bathroom to clean you up, both of you sharing. a glass of water, your face turns sheepish as you hand him back the water. “What is it?”

Your mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. “You know how I said I thought I was going to run into you earlier? I think the reason I was feeling that…was because I’ve been meaning to call you, too. Since you left, I wanted to call you, and then something happened and I just…”

“What happened?” he asks, sinking onto the bed beside where you’re laid out, pillow bunched under your arm, head tilted into your hand.

“I got a job offer,” you say, and before he can congratulate you, you lift a hand. “I got a job offer, and you were the first person I wanted to call, but I wasn’t sure if I should. Because it’s been three months and you’re amazing and I kept telling myself you found someone else and that was why you never called. But then I got this job offer, and I…”

You trail off, shaking your head, staring him down. “What’s the job, sweet thing?” he asks, reaching out and putting his hand on your leg, covered by the blanket.

The sheepishness disappears and you grin. “It’s in Washington.”

// TTWD track list //

#my fics #marcus pike #ttwd #the tortured writer’s department #kay’s version #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x you

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im14andivebeen14foramonth · 2 months

Note

do you have dally hcs...?

OH BOY DO I

when dally was younger (13-14ish) and he first started getting into horse riding, he would wear a cowboy hat all of the time. he thought it made him look super cool. he still has it now and ofc he'll whip out a cowboy hat when he's riding his horses. he pulls it off surprisingly well

this man will NEVER get a tattoo he hates the idea of messing with his body and his appearance like that

he can play the guitar a little bit, just a few songs here and there. when he's in a really good mood the gang can usually convince him to play for them

this poor boy sunburns so easily. in the summer he almost always has a pink tint across his nose and cheeks. the worst is his shoulders and chest, they burn sooo easily. whenever the gang goes swimming or plays football or smthn in the summer, darry has to spray sunblock all over dally ever hour. darry's also the one putting aloe vera all over dally's back when he does end up burning, which he keeps in the fridge so that its cold when dally shows up with a really bad burn

dally ran away from his dad and came back to tulsa alone. his dad hardly cared that he left and dally thought he was finally free. one day though, dally shows up beaten at the curtis house. it's the worst he's ever looked, and darry knows that something's wrong because dally never walks out of a fight looking that bad. dally tells him that it was his dad, who had showed up in tulsa out of nowhere, and it's one of the only times darry has ever seen dally cry, let alone breakdown in the way dally did. he ends up spending a few nights at the curtis house because darry can see how scared dally is that he might run into his dad again

dally's best core subject in school was science. people always thought he was just dumb at school, but he was actually pretty smart and just didn't care enough to apply himself. he had a lot of fun in science though, especially when they would do labs and experiments, and when he was still going to school, he'd sometimes help pony with his science work

his eyesight and hearing aren't that good, he's usually squinting when he has to read something or look far away, and the gang knows to speak up around him so that he can hear them

dally can't really grow a beard or anything, but he does have to shave every few days. whenever he gets out of the cooler the gang is always shocked when they see that he has stubble

easily one of the most ticklish members of the gang, but no one is going to test that and risk a broken nose

he's sooo prone to sinus infections. half of the winter his voice sounds all raspy and nasally and he's sniffling every five seconds

he loves photography. he often described scenery in detail and stuff and would say "man, that'd make a great picture" and so for his 17th birthday darry got him a little camera. dally tried to look tuff but he was smiling like an idiot when he opened it. he takes lots of good photos of scenic places and of the gang

this sort of goes along with the last one, but if dally ended up really applying himself, he'd get a job in film making. he's great when it comes to setting up visuals and making the scenes and sets look amazing. he honestly really has a good eye for making things look pretty. when he's older, he'll sometimes let the gang come on set and just watch him work and experience the behind the scenes of the movie making (even better if dally's working on a movie adaptation of one of pony's books. or I can see two-bit being an actor and starring in the movie dally's working on)

#i just sort of whipped these up in the moment so there's not a whole lot of thought behind them lol #but i could talk about dally for hours #the outsiders #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders book #the outsiders dally #dally winston #dallas winston #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders darry #darry curtis #the outsiders ponyboy #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders two bit #two bit mathews

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maenchkin · 4 months

Text

-“Warm Memories”

how ponyboy got close with y/n

(side series to “pink tulips”)

-𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🌷

Pony’s POV

You know, out of the entire gang, I think Y/n gets me the best. Johnnie and Soda are definitely up there with understanding me, but with Y/n I think it’s different because she doesn’t have to act all tough in front of the boys. I think a lot about how life would be if she never took a liking to Darry. I think it would be a lot less colorful without her.

Y/n’s known me since I was a pup. I can sorta recall the first time she was over. Darry n her were working on some sort of assignment for school, and she let me read some of her books.

Well, read to the best of my ability with how young I was.

Mom and Dad enjoyed her jokes that she cracked in front of em, so she stayed for dinner. After she left Mom demanded she be over more often. She said to Darry, “You don’t let a girl like that one go,”. I think that really stuck with Darry, because Darry and Y/n have been basically inseparable since.

Sometimes I don’t understand how she can put up with Darry, but Y/n can put up with anyone. She’s friends with half the town, and definitely doesn’t need us. In fact, if it weren’t for the gang I think Y/n and Darry would’ve been some sorta Socs. She definitely has the connections.

I’ve asked her about it before, and she snorted, laughing at my comment like it was some outta left field statement. She said “I got you, and Darry, the gang, and my Mama. Why would I ever wanna be a Soc when I have you guys?”.

Everyone in the gang loves her too. Her house is bigger than ours, so it can house the whole group pretty comfortably. She has an extra bedroom too, which is always available in case one of us needs a place to crash. Dally’s there any time he’s gotta escape the fuzz, and Johnny is there prolly once a week. But Y/n has to drag him there since he’d never ask her for such a big favor. Her cookings amazing too. It competes with my mom’s, which is a hard feat.

She’s the first person Dally calls when he needs a ride from the cooler, but from what I’ve heard from him, the first thing he hears from her is “nagging”. She cares a lot for Dally. The two of them coming from big cities and all, she knows what the hood’s like in places like that.

I’ve never met Y/n’s dad. From what I’ve gathered, her parents had a nasty divorce, which resulted in Y/n and her mother moving from Chicago all the way to Tulsa, where they took Y/n’s Grandma’s house. For a few years Y/n would go to stay with her dad for a few months in the summer, but that stopped after her father got remarried. I’ve seen a picture of him in Y/n’s bedroom. He’s a good lookin’ guy, but not Hollywood handsome like Soda. More ordinary handsome.

Y/n’s mom is great. You can really tell where she gets all of her generosity from. The first time Darry went over to their house, his shirt had some sort of hole, or tear or something. He came back with the hole repaired, and a box of cookies that Y/n’s mom demanded he take home after she found out about Soda and I.

I’ve heard the term ‘You can take a girl from the city but you can’t take the city from the girl’ before, and I think it definitely applies to Y/n sometimes. Even though she moved away in gradeschool, I think she’s a still a city girl at heart.

Don’t get me wrong, Soda’s gotta be one of my favorite people. But unlike Soda, Y/n can sit through movies, and loves to read with me. I would love to do it more often, but she works a lot, like Darry. I’m still grateful though.

Her house has this huge room dedicated to books. Like a personal library. Y/n said a lot of the books were her mother’s, but some of them she’s read herself, or were gifted to her by family members. I’m welcome to any book there, as long as I return it in good condition.

Darry and her confuse me a little bit sometimes. It’s blaringly obvious the two like each other, so I don’t understand why they ain’t together yet. The boys have a bet going on the two of them. Soda and I think that they’ll be getting together any minute now, and Two-Bit and Steve think that they’ve already gotten married in secret. I’m really hopin’ Soda and I are right because I got a good few dollars relying on it.

I would say that I didn’t get super close with Y/n till I entered secondary school. When I was in 6th grade, I really found an interest in reading. My English teacher announced that as a requirement in his class, we had to read this whole list of books. All the books were already rented out from the library, and we ain’t got too many of the books on the list at home.

Third POV

“Darry I ain’t know what to do,” Pony sighed, resting his chin on the dining room table, staring at his brother doing homework. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait till the other kids are done with the books,” he said, half interested. “But the kids in my grade take ages to get through a page! I wanna get goin’ on this now,” Pony whines, rolling his eyes. “Now don’t you get mouthy Ponyboy. You’ll get to it when you get to it,” Darry responded. The front door opened and closed. “Hey Y/n,” Darry called out, “Heya Dar-Bear,” Y/n responded, sitting down next to him. Darry and Pony’s heads whipped up. “What’d you just call me?” Darry asked, confused. “Nothing,” Y/n teased, pulling out her notebook.

“Darry, you don’t get it. I’m itchin’ to start this now,” Pony said, continuing his and Darry’s conversation. “Hm? What’s going on?” Y/n asked, looking between Darry and Ponyboy. “Ponyboy’s got this assignment in his English clas-” “We gotta read a whole buncha books in my class and I’m totally outta luck! All the books are checked outta the library.” Pony whined, staring at Y/n.

“Hmmm, well. I could do something to help you,” Y/n smiled, watching Ponyboy’s eyebrows lift, “What d’ya mean Y/n?” he asked. “You’ll see.” she responded, “I gotta finish my work first,”.

Y/n finished her last algebra problem, and looked back up to Ponyboy, who was already looking at her. “All finished?” Pony asked eagerly, smiling at her. Y/n giggled, setting down her pencil. “I suppose,” she smiled grabbing her bag. “Darry, we’re heading out,” Y/n called to Darry, who was in the living area. “Alright Y/n” he responded.

“C’mon Pony, the surprise’s at my house,” Y/n said, leading Pony out the door.

The two approached Y/n’s house pretty quickly, thanks to the extra pep in Pony’s step.

“My mom’s at work right now,” Y/n said, opening the door. Pony made sure to slip his shoes off when he got in. He still shudders at the memory of Y/n’s mom chewing out Two-Bit for tracking mud on the carpet.

“Ok, now close your eyes,” Y/n said. Ponyboy shut his eyes and felt Y/n grab his and to lead him through the house. He heard her open the door and let his feet follow Y/n’s pull.

“You can open your eyes now Pony,” she said. Pony let his eyes flutter open, and dropped his jaw. All around him were books! Books from the floor to ceiling!

“It’s our family library. Feel free to read any book in here, just promise to take care of it while you have it.” Y/n said, watching Ponyboy analyze the shelf in front of him. “Really?” Ponyboy asked in disbelief, looking back at her, “Yeah definitely. I’m glad you like reading, it’s good for you,” she said patting his shoulder. “Now, what books are on your list? We should hopefully have most of them,” Y/n said, looking around.

Ponyboy grabbed the list that was folded in his pocket. “We can start with ‘Old Yeller’,”

Pony’s POV

Ma really saved my butt back then. And turns out, that assignment really jump started my book addiction, thanks to her. We would have reading sessions after school. I got my list finished in two months flat. My teacher said I was the first one done, and Y/n took me out for burgers at the Dingo that night to celebrate. Darry and Sodapop tagged along too. Y/n and I got real close after all that, I think she was happy she had someone to talk about books to. Y/n’s a real special girl to me and the gang as a whole. Life would be a heck of a lot different without her.

#darry curtis x reader #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders #ponyboy #stay gold ponyboy #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders ponyboy #darry curtis #johnny cade #steve randle #sodapop #sodapop curtis #the outsiders darry

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decentishoutsidersthoughts · 2 months

Note

Ponyboy college headcanons please??

Here you go!

Ended up at University of Oklahoma on a track scholarship that wasn't a full ride but was still decent. It’s about two hours away from Tulsa which is a bit closer than he wanted but he’ll still take it (he wants to get as far away as he can eventually. He majors in English and wants to become a high school English teacher.

In a modern AU he would’ve filled out the FASFA and it would’ve said he was like- horrendously in need. Like expected family contribution zero. He’d laugh really hard at it and then cry a lil bit. (Him and his brothers all worked together to pay the tuition in the end)

Darry and Soda drove him there on move in day. Soda bawled like a baby the whole time and Darry even shed a couple tears before they left. Ponyboy acted like he was excited to leave and it didn’t bother him, but the second they left he definitely broke down sobbing in his bed for like an hour.

He calls them once every couple days and visits on some long weekends and most of his breaks. Whenever he visits it’s like a big deal there because he’s the first person to go to college in like forever.

He actually does make a lot of friends in college, especially the track team. He goes to a lot of parties and does a lot of stuff he was never allowed to do at home for his first semester. After a bit the excitement wears off though and he mellows out and finds a balance between the two.

He gets along with his roommates fine. One of them becomes like his best friend, the guy reminds him a lot of Soda. They don’t see the other roommate very often because of their schedules but when they do he’s polite and fun to be around.

He gets a job at a pizza place and at first it was really great because they’d let him take the leftovers home so him and his roommates didn’t have to worry about food much. But then he very quickly got tired of eating pizza four days a week.

During his freshman year he gets a girlfriend. She’s really a sweetheart and her parents love him. They broke up during his sophomore year and he was heartbroken.

He will call Soda and Darry crying during finals week at least once. Every single time, without fail. At this rate they’ve learned to expect it and it doesn’t phase them.

One time the gang all went there to surprise him and he was so excited. He showed them all his favorite places and they met his friends. It’s still one of his favorite days to think about.

During his junior year he decided he wanted to try and live in his own place. He found this one bedroom apartment that was really cheap and went ‘oh my god this is awesome’

He learned very quickly why it was so cheap. He only lived there for like six months before Darry was like ‘absolutely not-‘ He went back to the dorms after that

One time him and his college friends went on a road trip during the summer for a few weeks and he absolutely loved it.

Ponyboy went to the NCAA and all the Greasers rode that high for years. The Socs are pissed tf off by this entire situation btw.

That’s all I have for now but I may have more later idk

#the outsiders #ask me anything #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis

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sissylittlefeather · 1 year

Text

Anybody else love Tulsa McLean?

Home Sweet Oklahoma

A/N: This is a one-shot featuring one of my favorite Elvis movie characters from his 1960 movie GI Blues. I loooooove Tulsa and GI Blues for lots of reasons, but one of them is because I was born and raised in Oklahoma. I just couldn't help myself 😂. (Also please forgive any inaccuracies in my German, the geography, the time period, the military, etc. I did my best here.)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, masturbation (male), kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, and I think that's about it. It's pretty fluffy.

Word count: 6.3kish (I know it's long, but the backstory is important and it's a slow burn...)

When your father was transferred to Germany in 1956, the last thing you wanted to do was leave the states. You were just about to graduate from high school, so you argued and begged to be left behind. Of course, without a wedding ring on your finger, your father wasn't letting you live anywhere but where he was.

You never dreamed you'd love it here so much. Now, you've been here for four years and you've built a pretty good life. Still, sometimes you missed being back home. Not that you'd ever really had a place to call "home". Being a military brat wasn't easy and you'd never lived anywhere longer than 4 years at a time. Most places you only stayed 2, except for the stint in Colorado where your younger brother was born and the stint in Oklahoma where the twins were born. The time in Oklahoma was particularly memorable for you. You started 5th grade there and stayed until the summer before 9th grade. You were actually there long enough to make some good friends and experience your first dabbling in love. It was nothing serious, of course, but you'd never forget how he kissed you behind the swings at the park near your house. When you moved to North Carolina that summer, you were devastated.

Still, that was a long time ago, and living in Germany had changed you. You were a grown woman now, complete with a job singing in a night club. Your dad didn't love it, but being 22, you were more free to do as you pleased. And you typically did exactly that.

******

Tulsa, Cookie, and Rick were at the train station preparing for their transfer to Frankfurt. When they met the soldiers who just came from there, the first thing they wanted to know about was the girls. Where were the prettiest ones and what were they like? Rick was only concerned about one girl, Marla, who he had met and fallen in love with a year ago. Tulsa was ready to meet new ones and Cookie was along with him for the ride.

"There's only one dame to avoid." Turk warned.

"Avoid? That sounds like a challenge to me." Tulsa joked, his crooked smirk splayed across his face. He was the perfect combination of sexy and cute and he knew it. Girls didn't typically say no to him.

"You say that, but this dame is just mean. She's prettier than sin, but no man can get close to her. I'm telling you, don't waste your time."

"Well, now I'm really intrigued. Where do I find her?" Turk rolled his eyes at Tulsa's cockiness.

"She sings at the Cafe Amerikanisch."

"Amerikanisch? Is she--"

"American? Yes." Tulsa's eyes lit up. Picking up frauleins in a GI uniform was easy. A girl from back home would present a challenge worthy of his effort.

"Well, we'll see if I can't melt this ice queen." He looked at Cookie and wiggled his eyebrows. Turk scoffed. There was a whistle and everyone moved to board the train. As they walked away, Turk called out to Tulsa.

"Good luck! Her name is y/n!"

******

The Cafe Amerikanisch is owned by an American expat and is intended to serve as a haven for homesick soldiers and other Americans living and working in Germany. As an American singer, and a pretty good looking one at that, you are a perfect act for this particular club.

Tonight is a pretty normal Saturday for you as you sit in your dressing room waiting for it to be time for you to go on stage. Your shiny red dress is form-fitting with a dangerously high slit, but your legs are your best feature, so it doesn't bother you much. There's a knock on your door and someone lets you know you've got two minutes. You slip on your black heels and long black gloves and stand up, adjusting your hair in the mirror. The last thing you do is blow yourself a red-lipstick kiss for good luck and then make your way to the stage.

The band begins and you do your normal set, singing and flirting with the audience. You've just started your last song, a jazzy version of Dream a Little Dream of Me by Ella Fitzgerald, when you notice a group of American GIs come in and stand in the corner watching you. It's too dark for you to really see them, but your stomach drops and you have to actively stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Great, now you'll have to deal with them tonight.

You've learned from experience that the soldiers usually come in with one thing on their mind. For some reason, you seem to represent some kind of prize for them to win. You gave in once early in your career and fell in love head over heels just for him to disappear several months later. Since then, you've avoided these men like the plague and turned down, quite aggressively, every advance from one of them. It sounds arrogant to assume they're there for you, but it just always seems to be true. You don't intend on calling their bluff tonight or ever, really.

Seeing them standing in the corner sends up your defenses and you start to come up with reasons to go directly home after you finish singing. Finally, your set is done and you bow, smiling to the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. You head off the stage to your dressing room to change and get out of here. You're a little annoyed because you were hoping to stay and have a few drinks with some of the other girls in the show, but now you'll have to run home. Once you're back in your navy blue and white dress, you grab your coat and purse and make an attempt to leave. Several of the other girls stop you before you can get to the door, though, and you chat with them for a bit.

"Please get a drink with us, y/n!"

"No, I really need to go. I'm so tired."

"Just one? You always run out of here so quick."

"Alright, one drink. And then I have to go."

You let them lead you to a table, keeping your eyes on the group of GIs, waiting for them to try to approach you. You accidentally make eye contact with one of them and a bolt of recognition hits you. Why does he seem so familiar? No matter. You can ignore him, and his sweet blue eyes and perfect hair, the same way you've ignored all the others.

They stay put where they are, watching you, until after you get your drink. You're starting to think that maybe they'll leave you alone when you notice them making their way towards you. You down your drink in three gulps and say a quick goodbye to the girls. You stand up and almost run smack into the one with the blue eyes.

Between the alcohol and standing up so fast, you're a little dizzy and almost running into him knocks you off balance. He catches you with both hands on your upper arms before you fall.

"Whoa, honey, where are you headed so fast?" There's something about his accent that causes you to freeze. Who is he?

"Wait. Y/n?!" Your eyes scan up to his face and you try to place him. He's so familiar and he obviously knows you too.

"It's Tulsa! Tulsa McLean!" He steps back from you and gestures to himself.

Your heart stops.

"Oh my god. Tulsa..." Your hand goes to your mouth and you look up into his eyes.

You haven't seen him since you moved from Oklahoma 8 years ago. Your brain flashes back to holding his hand, going to the movies and getting hamburgers, and most of all, that kiss behind the swing set. You wrote letters back and forth for a while, but you lost contact once you both really got into high school. Now he's here, in front of you again.

"What are you doing here?" You ask. He points to his uniform.

"Isn't it obvious? What are you doing here?"

"My father..."

"He's here? I don't remember him liking me very much." He chuckles and looks around the club like your father might be right around the corner. You notice that the other soldiers are elbowing each other and laughing, like Tulsa has a real chance here and they're impressed. That makes your blood boil and you turn back to Tulsa coldly.

"Well, it's good to see you, but I really need to head home." He blinks, surprised by the change in your tone.

"Now wait a minute, can we go somewhere to talk?"

"No, I'm sorry. It's late. Goodnight." You turn and walk away. There's a pang in your heart as you do. You've missed him, a lot, but he's a soldier now. There's no way you can trust him. You swallow the lump in your throat as you walk out the door towards your house.

******

"Tulsa! We thought you were in for sure!" He and his group of friends make their way to a table to order some drinks.

"How do you know her?" He looks down at his beer when it comes, thinking about the time you spent together all those years ago. He hasn't stopped thinking about you in all that time.

"We went to school together for a while when we were kids." He's gotten unusually quiet and the guys look at each other in surprise.

"Isn't that a good thing? It'll make it easier, right?"

"Guys, I'm not doing this anymore."

"Aw, Tulsa, come on. You're our entertainment! You gotta prove to Turk that you can do it!"

"No, I'm done. I'm going to head back to the barracks. I'll see y'all later." He stands up and makes his way to the door. On his way out, he stops at the table of girls you had been sitting with.

"Hey, ladies. Do any of y'all know where I could find y/n?" The girls look at each other, hesitant to share your location with a soldier. Still, you live with your parents, so they figure your father will keep you safe if anything really bad happens. The girl that you're closest with, Maryann, tells him your address.

"Thank you. Truly." He flashes them a winning smile and heads for the door.

Cookie sees him walk out and turns back to the guys.

"Hey, fellas. I don't think this is over." They laugh and cheer. Your friends notice this and make a note to tell you later.

******

You're sitting in your room, brushing your hair and looking in the mirror, trying not to think about Tulsa. You've already gotten ready for bed, so you have on pajamas and your robe. It's really late and the rest of the house is asleep. The only lights on are in your small apartment over the garage. You live with your parents, but the house is large and you've got your own area with a bathroom and sitting room. Your father let you move over here when you started working at the club. This was the closest he would let you get to living on your own. Just as you put the brush down and go to get in your bed, you hear something hit your window. What on earth was that?

You ignore the sound and continue getting in bed. When you hear it again, though, you start to get nervous. You walk cautiously to the window and peek through your curtains at the street down below.

What the hell??

Tulsa is down there, throwing tiny rocks from the garden at your window.

How did he find you?!

When he sees you in the window, he waves like the 10-year-old he was when you met him. You open the window and call down as quietly as possible.

"Tulsa! What are you doing here?!"

"I need to talk to you!" He hollers.

"Shhhh! You're going to wake up my father. I'm coming down there." You look in the mirror quickly on your way down. Your pajamas will have to do, since you don't want to take the time to get dressed. And your hair is down around your shoulders, unfixed. But it's just Tulsa. He saw you in junior high; this can't be worse than that.

You tiptoe down the stairs and open the front door as quietly as possible. You pull your robe tighter around yourself and step out into the chilly night air, dragging the door closed softly behind you.

"What? Talk fast. I'm freezing."

"Maybe we should go inside?"

"Nice try, soldier. I'll be okay. Just talk."

"Well, I hadn't really thought of what I was going to say. I just needed to see you again." He smiles sheepishly.

"Tulsa. Why?"

"I'm not entirely sure." You scoff and start to go back inside. He grabs your arm lightly to stop you and his touch sends shockwaves through your body.

"No! Wait! I just... I haven't ever stopped thinking about you..."

"That was a long time ago, Tuls..."

"Have dinner with me." You shake your head no. "Please, Birdie..." Your eyes snap up to his. He called you by the nickname he made up for you back then, when you used to sing while he played the guitar. You can hear his junior high voice, "You're just like a little songbird. My very own Birdie."

"Just dinner?" You can feel yourself melting a bit and it bothers you.

"Yes. I promise."

"Pick me up tomorrow at 8." He nods excitedly and you turn to go back inside. You really hope you don't regret this.

******

Tulsa watches you walk back up to the house. He's still a little in shock that you said yes. He also can't believe what a beautiful woman you've become. He knew you were cute, but this is something entirely different. As he turns to go back to the barracks, his mind wanders to the way you looked in your red dress. It hugged every curve perfectly and your leg was peeking out through the slit. He longed to see both of your legs without the skirt in the way. And then you came downstairs in your pajamas and were somehow even more beautiful with your hair falling down around your shoulders. He imagines taking your robe off and running his hands up and under your silky pajamas. When he realizes how aroused he is, he decides to get a cab so he can sit down and not be wandering the streets of Frankfurt with a blatantly obvious erection.

Back at the barracks, he's the first one home for the night. He figures the other guys are still out at the club. His mind wanders back to you in the red dress and what it might look like on the floor of this room. Before he knows it, he's turned on again and he decides to do something pretty risky. He pulls his army-issue blanket over his lap and frees his painfully hard dick from his pants. As he touches himself, he imagines what your small, soft hands might feel like on him. The possibility drives him insane as he begins to stroke himself faster and faster. Then, he thinks of your beautiful red lips wrapped around him and he moans softly. He knows he probably doesn't have much time before the other guys come home, so he continues to move his hand up and down, moving his foreskin back and forth, the friction making his hips buck into his hand. His mind stays focused on you and your curves as he imagines holding your hips and pounding into you, first from behind and then with you on top so he can watch your breasts as they bounce with his motions. The image is almost overwhelming and he feels his release building. Finally, when he pictures the face you make when he gives you an orgasm, he comes hard, moaning your name with a string of cuss words.

His blanket is ruined, so he uses it to clean himself up quickly and then tosses it in his laundry. He's breathing heavily, a little embarrassed at having just gotten himself off to the thought of you, when he hears the guys coming down the hallway. He tries to slow his heart rate and gets ready for bed, laying down just as the door opens.

"Hey Tulsa! You missed a helluva night! You shoulda seen this girl Cookie was talking to!" He rolls over pretends like they woke him up.

"How'd it go with your girl?" They all look at him expectantly.

"Oh, well, uh, we're having dinner tomorrow night." They whoop and holler, the amount of beer they had becoming obvious.

"We knew you'd get her! Nothing like a connection from the past to get a girl to go weak in the knees for ya!" Tulsa frowns.

"It's not like that, fellas." He tries not to think about what he just pictured you doing. "We're old friends. That's all. Now let me go back to sleep." He rolls back over as they continue talking and laughing. He tries to go to sleep, but he can't stop imagining you curled up next to him in your silk pajamas.

******

You're standing in front of your house in your favorite pink dress when Tulsa pulls up in a cab. You forgot that he wouldn't have a car, since he's a soldier. He hops out and opens the door for you, but you shake your head.

"We'll take my car." He pays the cab driver and follows you to your BMW convertible. His mouth pops open when he realizes it's yours.

"Nightclub business must be good." He jokes. You remember how much he loves cars and toss him the keys.

"I don't really feel like driving tonight." His eyes light up and you can't stop yourself from smiling. He really is an attractive man. This might be harder than you thought.

You guide him to a restaurant, where he parks and runs to your side of the car to open the door for you. He still has his southern manners. Once you get to the table, you both relax a bit and it feels more like the two of you used to be, talking and laughing easily.

"And how's your mama? She was always so sweet to me." You ask, taking a bite of your food.

"That's because she loved you! Always said you were too good for me. She was probably right." He looks at you shyly. "But, she's good! She and Daddy still live in the same house. I haven't seen them in almost 2 years." He gets a little somber and you can tell he must be homesick.

"Are you almost finished with your tour?"

"I've got three months here in Frankfurt and then I'm free. I can't wait to get back to the states." You look down at your plate. He's going to disappear in three months. Don't get attached.

"What about you? Will you be headed stateside any time soon?"

"No, my father is about to retire, but he wants to stay here. And even if he left, I'd probably try to stay. I like it here and I don't really have a home in the US. Not like you do."

"You could always come back to Oklahoma." He cuts himself off before he says "with me." You look up at him, noticing that it seems like he wants to say something else, but he doesn't. Instead, he changes the subject to talk about your singing career. He tells you he has formed a group with some of the guys and has been performing whenever they get a chance. He also tells you about how they want to open a nightclub when they get home.

"See, you could come sing in our club! Be our main act!" You know he's joking, but there's an edge of seriousness to him that makes you wonder.

You continue to talk and laugh through the rest of dinner and it feels good to be with him, like he brings out a part of you that you forgot exists. A happy, hopeful, youthful part of you that's been buried since you had your heart broken.

You sit together at dinner for a long time after you finish eating and even when you can't sit there any longer, you're still not ready to be away from him. He suggests a drink somewhere and you agree with a swiftness that you fear gives you away.

You like him. A lot.

He's still the sweet, funny boy you loved so long ago, just in the body of this charming and devilishly handsome man.

You decide to take him back to the Amerikanisch for drinks. It's familiar and you know everyone that works there. You sit at your table together and continue your conversation from before. At one point, he says something really funny and you put your hand on his on the table. He stops laughing and looks at you longingly. You let him take your hand and hold it, running his thumb over your knuckles softly. Your heart beats faster and you start to wish that you were somewhere other than a crowded club so he could kiss you if he wanted to. And something tells you that he wants to. The spell is broken, though, when his friends come in and see you together. He gets up to take them to a different table.

"I'll be right back, Birdie." He uses your nickname again and you wish it didn't make you melt all over again.

As soon as he's gone, Maryann joins you at your table.

"You need to watch out for that one."

"For Tulsa? No, I've known him for a long time. He's not that kind of guy."

"Yeah, well, his buddies sure think he is." She tells you about what she and the other girls noticed last night.

"Just be careful, okay? I'd hate to see you become some kind of trophy for him." You nod and look over at him at the table with the other soldiers. You can't let yourself forget he's one of them.

******

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We had a feeling you'd be here with y/n and we wanted to come check on your progress. And even if you weren't, Cookie wanted to come see his waitress."

"Check my progress? I told y'all that's not what this is. You're about to ruin the whole thing." Tulsa raises his voice slightly to let them know he's serious. Cookie's waitress comes by and he disappears to follow her to the bar. The rest of the guys agree to back off, so Tulsa makes his way back over to you. There's another girl sitting with you, though, and he recognizes her as the one who gave him your address.

"Thanks again for helping me find her...?"

"Maryann. Nice to meet you. I've been hearing a lot about you in the last ten minutes." She stands up and lets him sit back down. As she walks away, she gestures to you that she's watching.

"What was that all about?"

"Oh, nothing really. She just worries about me since..." You trail off, not really wanting to talk about why.

"Since what?"

"Since Mike." Tulsa looks uncomfortable and brings his eyebrows together in a frown.

"Who is Mike?" You don't want to, but you feel safe with Tulsa, so you tell him the whole story. How you let him take you out, let him convince you to fall in love with him, let him make you believe he wanted to marry you, let him have you. When you get to the last part, Tulsa looks away from you, obviously affected. The thought of you with another man makes him sick to his stomach. The thought of that man hurting you fills him with rage. He suddenly wishes Mike was around, so he could punch him in the face and then take you in his arms and protect you.

"That's why you don't trust soldiers." You nod, not wanting to let the tears that have gathered in your eyes find a way to fall. He's dying to put his arm around you and comfort you. He wants to wipe the tears from your eyes and make sure you never cry again. But you're still in the middle of a crowded club.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" He asks, trying to sound as genuine as possible. You look over to his table of friends hesitantly. He looks down at his hands, frustrated by the fact that they've made you nervous. He'd give anything not to be wearing this stupid uniform right now.

"Yes." He looks up at you, pleasantly surprised. You decide to trust him, despite everything. He stands up and puts his hand out for you to take, so you grab your coat and wrap your fingers through his. At your touch, his heart skips a beat. This might be more than just rekindling a friendship.

******

When you get outside the club, the cold wind hits you and you shiver. Tulsa puts his arm around you, and you let him, warmth spreading through you.

The only place you can think of to go is back to your house. You recognize that this might send the wrong message, but you're not exactly sure that is the wrong message at this point.

Once you're in the car, Tulsa asks where you want to go.

"Home."

"Oh. Okay." He thinks you mean without him. You scoot close to him in the front seat and put your head on his shoulder.

"I want you to come with me." He tries to hide his excitement and fails, but instead of being annoyed, you think it's really cute. He puts the car in drive and you make your way back to your house.

Thankfully, the house is dark when you get there. You weren't looking forward to explaining to your father why Tulsa was coming upstairs with you. Instead, you both take off your shoes and walk as quietly as possible until you reach the safety of your apartment.

As soon as you close your bedroom door, you both burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. You're grown adults sneaking around like teenagers. He sets his hat down on your dresser while you take your coat off. You stand there for a while, staring at each other in silence. Then, slowly, carefully, he reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek, brushing it softly with his thumb. You close your eyes and lean into his palm. Your heart is beating so fast and your eyes flutter open to meet his blue ones. They're soft and calm, like the ocean on a still day. As he leans in, your fingers begin to tingle. When his soft lips finally meet yours, a tidal wave of desire washes over you and you're filled with a need for him to touch every inch of you. The same wave seems to hit him as well because he moves his hands from your face to your waist, pulling your hips in close to him as you throw your arms around his neck. Your lips part and he slides his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours. You feel your body heat up as he presses against you, kissing you passionately.

After a few minutes of being locked together like this, he pulls back from your lips and looks into your eyes again.

"Is this really what you want, Birdie? I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you into anything." You think for a second. If this continues, you know you won't be able to stop yourself from falling for him. But do you want to stop? Tulsa isn't like the others. He knows you. And even if he is leaving in a few months, you've found each other once before. Who's to say you won't do it again? You're ready to stop being scared. And three months with him sounds better than a lifetime with Mike.

"Yes, this is what I want. You are what I want, Tulsa." He dives back into the kiss and never looks back. You walk backwards towards your bed, pulling his tie off and starting to unbutton his shirt. He finishes your work and drops it on the floor, his lips never moving from yours. His hands move to the back of your dress, finding the zipper and carefully pulling it down to the small of your back. As he runs his hands back up to your shoulders, his fingers graze the skin that was under your dress and the electricity is palpable. You wiggle your shoulders as he slides the top half of your dress off. He kisses down your neck to your shoulder and each place he presses his lips burns with a newfound heat. You push your dress down over your hips and let it fall to the floor with his shirt. He slides the tips of his fingers under your slip and pushes it down too. Then, he pulls back and looks at you standing there in your garter belt, hose, bra, and panties.

"Wow." You blush a little with his burning gaze moving up and down your body and move to cover yourself with your hands.

"You don't have to hide from me, baby." He gently moves your hands away from you and you start to feel more comfortable. His presence is comforting, even as you stand there nearly naked. You take a moment to look down his body, running your hands from his shoulders down to the waistline of his pants. That's when you notice that his dick is hard, pressing against the fabric of his pants dramatically. You look up into his eyes and he looks away and clears his throat like he's embarrassed. You put one hand on his cheek and softly move his face back to making eye contact with you. Then you take your other hand and touch him over his pants, rubbing up and down his dick carefully.

"Mmm." His eyes close and his hips buck forward into your hand. He is desperate for your touch, just as you are for his. He moves his hands up and down your sides and then finds the back of your garter belt with his fingers. He undoes the hooks and then sits you down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling down in front of you, he slowly unclips your hose and drops the belt to the floor. Then, he gently rolls your hose down each of your legs, lifting each ankle to his lips and pressing a kiss there. He kisses each of your knees and then pushes them apart to kiss the inside of each thigh. As he gets closer and closer to your center, you feel your arousal begin to gather in your panties. He stops before he gets there, though, and stands up. You lean forward and unbutton his pants.

"Wait, honey." He puts his hands on yours and stands there looking down at you, breathing heavily. He wants to savor this moment with you. He's been with women before, but something about this feels like another kind of first time. It's a little overwhelming and he wants to make sure it doesn't move too quickly. He looks at you sitting there in just your bra and panties. You might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Even his imagination didn't do you justice. Is this what it feels like to be in love?

"Should I... should I put on pajamas or something?" You look around the room, assuming something about you must have turned him off, despite his continuing erection. He sits next to you on the bed.

"Oh, no, honey--"

"You don't like me?" You look at him with tears in your eyes. You didn't realize it mattered to you so much, but now you know. You so desperately want him to want you, to like you, to love you the way you've realized you've always loved him.

"Don't like you?! Baby, I-I... well... to hell with it... I love you." Your eyes snap up to meet his.

"Y-you do?"

"Aw, hell. Yes, y/n I do. I always have." He searches your face for some kind of reassurance that he's not alone in this.

"I love you too..." you whisper it, but it's enough for him. He puts his hands on your face and pulls you into a deep kiss. He lays you back on the bed, running his hand down your body. He kisses down your neck, whispering "I love you" in between each kiss. His hand makes its way to your center and he moves your panties to the side, sliding his finger up your slit to the place that makes your back arch and a moan escape your lips. He smiles at how easily you come undone in his hands. After a few second of this, he slips one finger into you and then two. The feeling of some part of him inside you is enough to drive you to the edge. He sits up on his knees and slides your panties down and off. Then he climbs in between your legs and pushes his fingers back into you, moving them in and out rhythmically. You're overcome by the sensation of his hands on you and the intense emotions that are running through you. He loves you. But more importantly, you love him. Everything physical that's happening is just an expression of that and you never want it to end. Just as you think you're going to lose control, he lowers his mouth onto you and adds his tongue to the movements he's already making. You gasp and it doesn't take long for your orgasm to build up and crash over you like waves on a beach, over and over again out to the edges of your body and back again.

"Oh, yes, Tulsa!" You cry out as you shudder and pulse around his fingers. He sits up on his knees and finally lets you undo his pants, kicking them and his underwear off quickly. He unhooks your bra and literally throws it to the side. Now, it's like he can't move fast enough. He needs to be inside you as soon as possible. You help him with this task, lining him up with your entrance before he pushes into you hard and deep.

"Oh shit." He moans. "You feel so good, Birdie." When he uses your nickname again you whimper and kiss his neck. He begins to pump in and out of you and both of you begin to sweat. You feel him inside you, hitting all of your most sensitive places. The rhythm he keeps is not too fast or too slow, his hips pressing into yours and driving him deeper inside you. You can't believe how good he feels like this. But you want to repay him for the pleasure he gave you at the start, so you push him off of you and lay him on his back next to you. He follows directions easily, waiting patiently for you to straddle him and lower yourself onto him. Groaning with the change in sensation of having you on top of him, he reaches up and cups both of your breasts while you bounce. The picture that you make, sitting there on top of him, drives him absolutely crazy.

"God, you're beautiful." He moves his hands to your hips and starts to thrust into you deeply. You roll your hips to meet his over and over, your hands on his chest. His eyes roll back and close as his mouth is opened partially. The look of pleasure that he has makes you want to keep doing this forever. His arousal fuels your own as you continue to grind against him.

"Yes, don't stop!" You moan again as another orgasm builds inside you, starting in your abdomen and spreading through your legs.

"I'm gonna come, baby." He opens his eyes and tries to watch the expression on your face, but he's overwhelmed by his own ecstatic pleasure as you reach your climax together. You feel his warmth inside you and know it's risky, but you don't care. In that moment, the only thing that matters is you and him together, bodies intertwined and breathing heavily, your skin pressed against his. You lay on his chest and he wraps his arms around you and kisses your hair.

"Birdie, that was..."

"...everything." You look up at him from your position on his chest. You've never felt anything like this before, emotionally or physically. You gently run your fingertip down the line of his nose and he grabs your fingers and kisses them. The intimacy between you goes beyond the simplicity of sex. You belong to each other.

Eventually, you get up to go to the bathroom, thinking about everything that just happened. It seems like fate that you would run into each other again. And after what just happened, you don't ever want to let him go.

When you get back to the bedroom, he gestures for you to come lay beside him. He's under the covers now; it looks like he doesn't want to go anywhere either. It's fine by you that he stays. You wish he could stay forever. That's when you remember that he's leaving in 3 months.

"Tulsa, what are we gonna do?"

"About what, honey?"

"You're only here for a little while." You crawl into the bed and snuggle up against him. He's not worried about anything, though. In his mind, he's going to buy a ring tomorrow.

"Come back to Oklahoma with me." He says it matter-of-factly. You think about what that would mean, leaving your job and your friends and your family behind. But you've moved so many times before. And this time, you wouldn't be moving away from somewhere, you'd be moving towards a home with him.

"Okay. I'll go home with you. I'm not sure how my father will feel about me moving without--"

"--a ring on your finger? Let me worry about that part." He makes his crooked smirk-smile and you kiss his cheek.

"I trust you..."

******

The End

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I wasn't sure if anyone would want to be tagged, since this is technically not an Elvis fic...

#tulsa mclean #gi blues #Tulsa mclean smut #Tulsa McLean fanfiction #Gi blues fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis movies #Elvis movies fanfiction #60s elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fanfic

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