theoutsiderslvr

[theoutsiderslvr]

Hi, how are you?? I was hoping you can do a sodapop x male reader pls and thank u

I’m good, thanks so much for the ask, I wasn’t entirely sure with what you wanted exactly so I hope you like this!

Please leave an ask if you have any ideas! I would really appreciate it, hope you like the story!

Waiting for you (MxM) Sodapop

The sun was starting its slow crawl down the sky, painting everything in a soft gold—too gentle for a city split in half by class lines and closed hearts.

Y/N had never planned on being stranded. The engine of his father’s sleek black convertible gave out with a cough and a hiss, just a block from the DX gas station. He let out a sharp sigh, knuckles white around the wheel, jaw tight. His perfect day—his perfectly rehearsed Soc routine—was cracking.

He was used to polished shoes and country club silence. Used to watching his back, not his heart. But sitting alone in a dead car with the windows rolled down, something in the air felt... different.

That’s when he showed up.

Sodapop Curtis.

With hands streaked in grease, a white T-shirt clinging to his chest like it belonged there, and eyes that didn’t flinch from holding yours. He walked up to the driver’s side with an easy gait and a tilt of his head, not a smile but something close to it.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and rich like old records on a Sunday morning.

Y/N stiffened. He knew of Sodapop—everyone in town did. A Greaser with a reputation for charm and rough edges, for that wild, heartbreaker grin. But in this moment, Soda didn’t look like a flirt or a rebel. He just looked curious.

“My car broke down,” Y/N said flatly, biting back the urge to say something colder. But the way Soda looked at him—calm, sincere, almost amused—unraveled his usual defenses.

“I can take a look,” Soda offered, already crouching by the hood. “Unless you wanna wait for one of your rich buddies to tow it?”

That earned him a glare, but only half-hearted. “Just don’t scratch it.”

Soda let out a quiet laugh, not mocking, just warm. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ten minutes later, Y/N was leaning against the fence while Sodapop worked under the hood. He watched the grease on Soda’s forearms, the way his brow furrowed in focus, the way his tongue peeked from the corner of his mouth.

It was stupid. The kind of thing that shouldn’t feel so magnetic. But it did.

“You always look at people like that?” Soda asked suddenly, not looking up.

Y/N startled. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to see through ‘em. Or maybe like you wish you couldn’t.”

Y/N said nothing. No one talked to him like that. No one noticed things like that.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Soda added, wiping his hands on a rag and finally meeting his gaze again. “Just seems like you’ve got a lot to say, but you’re scared someone might actually listen.”

Y/N looked away, swallowing hard. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Good,” Soda replied. “I’d hate to be predictable.”

The car eventually started, but Y/N didn’t leave right away.

They stood by the pump, the scent of gasoline and sun-warmed concrete thick in the air. Soda leaned against the hood, arms crossed, eyes curious.

“You could come by again,” he said casually, as if it wasn’t a line drawn in the sand.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And what? Pretend this never happened?”

Soda smiled faintly. “No. Remember it.”

The pause between them crackled. Something heavy with meaning, but unspoken. Not quite desire, not yet—but the tension hummed in the air like the low thrum of a car engine.

Y/N looked at him a moment longer before stepping back into the convertible. As he drove away, he glanced in the mirror.

Soda was still there. Watching. Not smiling.

Just waiting.

The next few days passed like shadows, quiet and unnoticed, until Friday night when Y/N’s car started sputtering again. The evening air clung to Y/N’s skin like the memory of a dream he wasn’t supposed to have.

His car had broken down again—of course it had—right in front of the DX gas station like the universe had decided he needed another run-in with Sodapop Curtis.

Y/N stared at the glowing “OPEN” sign flickering through the windshield. He should’ve called someone else—Randy, or his driver, or maybe even his dad’s assistant. But his fingers had already curled around the door handle. And now he was standing there again, leaning awkwardly against the hood, feigning calm while something buzzed inside his chest.

The garage door was open this time. The scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke mixed with the crisp Oklahoma night. Inside, Sodapop had his back turned, bent over an engine, sleeves rolled up and grease streaking his forearms. There was something steady about the way he worked—measured, precise. Quiet strength wrapped in the body of someone who the world never seemed to listen to, but should.

Y/N cleared his throat.

Soda looked up and grinned—not the kind of grin that made hearts flutter, but the kind that made you feel like you weren’t invisible.

“Back already?” Soda asked, wiping his hands on a rag. “Either you missed me, or your car really hates you.”

Y/N chuckled under his breath. “Maybe both.”

Soda arched an eyebrow, but didn’t press it. That was what Y/N was beginning to like about him—he never dug too deep, but always left room for more if you wanted to give it. There was no smooth line, no smirk loaded with suggestion. Just him. Just real.

Soda popped the hood and leaned in. “Battery’s fine. Could be your carburetor. You mind waiting a bit? Might take some time.”

Y/N nodded and leaned against the wall. He watched as Soda moved—focused, grounded. Y/N was used to boys who moved like they were performing for a crowd. But Soda wasn’t trying to be cool. He just was.

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the soft clang of tools and the occasional breath they forgot they were holding.

“You ever work with your hands?” Soda asked suddenly.

Y/N glanced down at his palms—soft, unscarred. “No. Not unless you count helping build parade floats at school.”

Soda laughed, really laughed, head tilting back like the sound came from somewhere deep and untouched.

“I dunno,” Soda said, smiling. “You look like you’d be good at fixing things. You’ve got that careful kind of way about you.”

Y/N looked away, heat brushing his cheeks. It wasn’t a compliment about his looks. It was… deeper. Observant. Thoughtful.

“I think I’d like that,” Y/N murmured. “Fixing something. Making something work again.”

Soda wiped his hands and stepped closer. The distance between them felt thinner somehow. He leaned back against the wall beside Y/N, arms crossed.

“You always talk like that?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Like there’s a part of you waiting to be somewhere else.”

Y/N felt that buzz in his chest again, louder now.

“I don’t know where ‘somewhere else’ is,” he admitted. “But it’s not… there.” He gestured vaguely toward the world behind him—country clubs, expectations, people who only saw what they wanted to.

Soda didn’t say anything, just looked at him with those honest eyes. No judgment. No pity.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said simply. “You’ve got that look about you—like a storm’s coming, and you’re just learning how to dance in it.”

Y/N turned to him then, meeting his gaze fully. For a second—just one second—their shoulders brushed, the contact sending something electric spiraling through him. Not fireworks, not heat. Something warmer. Like safety. Like being seen.

The door to the station opened, and Steve popped his head out. “Soda, we got that delivery coming in ten. You gonna—oh.”

His gaze flicked to Y/N, and his tone changed. “Didn’t realize we had company.”

Soda gave a casual shrug. “Just helping with a car issue.”

Steve raised a brow but didn’t say more. He disappeared back inside.

Y/N straightened, reality creeping back in. He didn’t belong here. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“I should go,” Y/N said softly. “Thanks for helping.”

Soda nodded. “You’re welcome.”

But just as Y/N turned, Soda added, “You know… you don’t have to wait for your car to break down to stop by.”

Y/N paused. Looked back.

And smiled. The clock on the gas station wall ticked past midnight. The radio in the back hummed softly—some old ballad about missing someone, the kind of song that seeps under your skin when you’re alone.

Y/N shouldn’t have come back. Not this late. Not after their last conversation had left his heart pounding all the way home. But something about Soda’s words had lodged in his chest and wouldn’t let go.

"You don’t have to wait for your car to break down to stop by."

He hadn't. He’d just… walked. Hoodie up, hands deep in his pockets, shoes scuffed from pacing the same neighborhood twice. And now he was here, standing outside the DX, bathed in pale fluorescent light, trying to convince himself he was just passing through.

The garage door was half-shut. The lights were still on.

He knocked gently.

The metal creaked as Soda rolled the door up all the way. His eyes widened for a split second when he saw Y/N—but not in surprise. More like… relief.

“You okay?” Soda asked, stepping aside.

Y/N nodded. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Soda tilted his head. “Me neither.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and fragile. Y/N stepped in. The station was warm, and it smelled like motor oil and something sweeter—maybe the soda machine in the back or maybe just him.

Soda sat on the edge of the workbench, motioning for Y/N to do the same. They sat close—closer than they had before—but neither of them moved away.

“I feel like I can breathe here,” Y/N said quietly, staring at his hands. “With you. It’s the only place that doesn’t make me feel like I’m pretending.”

Soda looked at him, something soft in his gaze. “Then you’re welcome anytime.”

Their knees brushed. Neither moved.

“Sometimes,” Soda said slowly, “I wish I could take people and show them how I see them. Just… hold up a mirror and say, ‘This is who you are. This is who you really are.’”

Y/N met his eyes. “And what would you see in me?”

Soda didn’t answer right away. He reached forward, slowly, like giving Y/N the chance to back away. He didn’t.

His fingers brushed Y/N’s cheek, gentle as wind.

“I see someone who's been caged so long he forgot he had wings,” Soda murmured. “But he’s starting to remember.”

The air cracked between them.

Y/N leaned in—not much, just enough. And when their foreheads touched, it wasn’t a kiss. It was something more intimate. Breath mingling. Skin warm. Hearts loud.

Soda’s hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck, holding him there like something sacred. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

When their lips finally met, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t slick or practiced or meant for anyone else to see. It was slow. Warm. A question and an answer. A promise, not a thrill.

Soda’s thumb grazed Y/N’s jaw as their mouths moved in sync, soft and searching. Y/N's hands gripped Soda’s shirt like he was afraid he’d disappear if he let go. There was heat, yes—but not the kind that burned. The kind that built.

When they finally pulled apart, neither opened their eyes right away.

“You okay?” Soda whispered, thumb still tracing along Y/N’s skin.

Y/N nodded, voice barely a breath. “Yeah. I just… I’ve never…”

Soda leaned his forehead against Y/N’s again. “Me neither. Not like this.”

They sat there for a long time, the radio playing on, the rest of the world forgotten. And maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe it wasn’t allowed. But in that quiet corner of the world, under flickering lights and surrounded by the scent of gasoline and something real, it felt like the beginning of everything. DX Gas Station, 11:42 p.m.

The station was quiet, save for the occasional hum of a streetlamp and the click of the cooling engine outside. Sodapop stood behind the counter, arms crossed, watching Y/N pace slowly along the narrow strip between the service bay and the stacked motor oil. His eyes, usually lit up with that warm mischief, were darker now—something unspoken brewing behind them.

Y/N's heart hadn’t settled since they'd walked in. Something about the night clung to their skin: maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the fact that every time their eyes met, neither of them could hold the gaze for long.

Soda spoke first. “You okay?”

Y/N turned slowly, fingers brushing over a row of old flyers. “Yeah. Just… I don’t know. It feels like the whole world shuts up when we’re in here.”

Soda gave a dry chuckle and leaned back against the counter. “That’s ‘cause it does. Ain’t nobody watchin’. Nobody whisperin’. No one tellin’ me I shouldn’t be near you.”

He said it so softly, it might’ve been mistaken for regret. But his eyes said something else. Something that made Y/N take a step closer.

“I hate going back,” Y/N admitted. “Every time I leave here… it feels like I’m pretending again. Smiling for people who don’t care, nodding when I want to scream.” They shook their head. “And then I come here, and you—”

Soda straightened, the look in his eyes tightening. “Don’t say I make it better.”

Y/N froze. “Why not?”

Soda looked away, jaw clenching. “’Cause if you say it out loud, I’ll start believing it. And if I start believing it, I’ll want more.”

The words hit like a slammed door. And yet, in that silence, the air between them snapped taut—like a thread about to give.

Y/N crossed the remaining space between them and stopped just short of touching. “So what if you do want more?”

Soda’s eyes burned into theirs. “I’ve been wantin’ more since the second you stalled that pretty little car out front.”

There was no turning back.

Y/N closed the distance.

Their kiss wasn’t soft this time. It was everything they'd held back. It was fear, hope, hunger. Soda's hands gripped Y/N’s waist like he wasn’t sure if this was real, and Y/N clung to him like they were terrified it was.

They stumbled back into the garage bay, lit by the flicker of a dying fluorescent bulb. The smell of oil and gasoline clung to the air, but all Y/N could smell was Soda—soap, sweat, and something heady like longing.

He backed them against the hood of a car, breathing hard. “You sure about this?”

Y/N nodded, fingers threading through his shirt, pulling him closer. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of.”

Soda leaned in again, this time slower, deeper. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask, didn’t beg—it told the truth.

Hands wandered. Noses bumped. The edges of their lives—the Soc parties, the grease-stained shifts, the whispers and the warnings—melted into background noise. Here, pressed against a Dodge with the paint flaking and the radio softly humming through the wall, they weren’t a Soc and a Greaser.

They were just two boys in the dark, trying not to come apart.

Soda rested his forehead against Y/N’s, breathing uneven. “I don’t care what anyone says. I’m not lettin’ this go.”

Y/N smiled, brushing his thumb along Soda’s cheek. “Then don’t.”

And for that moment, there was no war between them and the world. No secrets. No lines.

Just them.

And the night.

[theoutsiderslvr]

Just a little bit more

Darry Curtis x fem!reader

Summary: Darry helps reader with a leak in her roof

Warnings: nothing; just fluff

It started with a drip.

Not a big one, not at first — just enough to be annoying. The kind of sound that blends into the quiet hum of a lonely house late at night. But after a week of thunderstorms and a suspicious wet patch on the ceiling, Y/N knew she had to stop ignoring it.

She didn’t know who to call, though. She’d only moved to the neighborhood a few months ago. Her landlord was useless, and her toolbox consisted of a single hammer and some duct tape.

It was her neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, who pointed her in the right direction. “You go ask that Curtis boy — the older one. Darrel. He’s good with that kind of thing. Strong, dependable. Bit gruff, but his heart’s in the right place.”

Y/N knocked on the Curtis’ door that afternoon, umbrella in one hand, soggy note scribbled with her address in the other.

Darry answered. Tall. Broad. Tired-looking, but polite.

“You’ve got a leak?” he asked, brushing sawdust from his shirt.

“Yeah,” Y/N said sheepishly. “I was told you might be able to help.”

He stared at her a second longer than necessary — not rude, just curious — then nodded. “I’ll bring my ladder over after supper.”

The rain had finally stopped by the time Darry came by. His toolbox looked heavy, and the ladder over his shoulder didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

“It’s up there,” Y/N said, pointing to the ceiling above the kitchen. “Sorry, it’s probably worse than it looks.”

Darry gave a low whistle as he climbed up into the attic. “Yup. You’ve got a shingle problem. Some water damage too.”

Y/N sighed. “Of course I do.”

“I’ll patch it up,” he said, matter-of-fact. “But I’ll need a few days to really fix it. Might take a couple weekends.”

She smiled. “I’ll pay you in coffee and banana bread.”

He actually smiled back — just a flicker, but enough to make her heart jump a little. “Deal.”

By day three, Darry started staying a little longer than necessary.

He’d hammer nails while she stood at the bottom of the ladder asking questions like, “So what’s it like living with your brothers?” or “Do you ever get tired of fixing everyone else’s problems?”

He never gave long answers, but he listened. And once, when she handed him a cold Coke and their fingers brushed, he looked down at her like she was more than just a neighbor with a leaky ceiling.

By the end of the second week, the hole was gone. But something else had taken its place.

They were sitting on the front steps of her porch, sharing a slice of pie, both sweaty and tired from the last round of patching.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” she said softly. “But I’m really glad you did.”

Darry shrugged, looking up at the pink-tinged sky. “Roof’s fixed.”

She nudged his arm gently. “Yeah, but maybe you could come by anyway. You know. Just to check on it.”

He turned to her, eyes soft beneath the tough exterior. “Maybe I will.”

And in that quiet, golden moment, with summer cicadas buzzing in the background and the scent of fresh lumber still lingering in the air, Y/N knew that some things — and some people — were worth waiting for.

It had been almost two weeks since Darry Curtis first stepped foot on Y/N’s porch with a toolbelt slung around his hips and a cautious smile tucked beneath the brim of his cap. What started as a quick patch job had stretched into something more — partly because the hole was worse than it looked, and partly because neither of them seemed in any rush to see it finished.

But just as Darry packed up his tools on what should’ve been the final day, a crack of thunder rolled through the sky. Hours later, Y/N stood in the hallway with a bucket catching a slow drip from her ceiling — again.

Darry came back the next morning, raincoat and all. “Looks like the storm peeled up some old shingles on the back side,” he said, squinting at the soggy stain overhead. “Gonna need a little more time.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to keep you from your own stuff.”

Darry just shrugged. “Roof’s not gonna fix itself.”

She followed him outside as he set up the ladder, balancing a toolbox in one hand. The air was still damp from the storm, and the sky hung low and gray. When Darry started up the ladder, Y/N hovered at the bottom.

“Let me help,” she offered.

“You sure?”

“I’m not totally helpless,” she teased, already grabbing the side rails.

He stepped aside reluctantly, handing her a roll of tape. “Alright, but be careful. It’s slick up there.”

She nodded and climbed slowly. But halfway up, her foot slipped on a damp rung — and before she could cry out, a strong arm caught her around the waist.

Her heart thudded.

She looked down — Darry’s arms were around her, holding her like she weighed nothing. His eyes were wide, breath shallow, like the idea of her getting hurt had knocked the wind out of him.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and tight.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah… yeah, thanks.”

He didn’t let go right away.

Neither of them said anything for a second, caught in the closeness, her hands still clinging to the ladder, his grip firm but gentle.

Then Darry cleared his throat and set her back on her feet. “Maybe let me handle the high places from now on.”

“Deal,” she said, breathless — and not just from the fall. After Darry was done working on the roof Y/N invited home in to have some water and a break. While Darry was having a break Y/N was sat beside him and turned his head to look at her “is something on my face?” Y/N said with a confused and nervous look.

Darry didn’t answer at first. He just looked at her, that furrow in his brow softening into something quieter. Something tender. The kind of look that stripped away every wall he’d built around himself.

His hand came up gently, fingers brushing her chin, lifting it just enough to meet his gaze. “You scare the hell outta me sometimes,” he whispered.

Then, softly—like it was something he’d been waiting too long to do—he kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild. It was patient. Certain. Warm like the late sun on the shingles. Y/N leaned into it, lips parting in slow surrender. She felt him sigh against her mouth, like kissing her had let something go he didn’t know he’d been carrying.

He broke the kiss only to rest his forehead against hers. But then—maybe because her hands were still clutching his shoulders—he kissed her again, deeper this time. The moment was still. And when Darry shifted and laying Y/N’s back on the couch they were sitting making Y/N’s back press against the soft cushion while Darry was on top of her, kissing her with more heat, Y/N only tightened her grip, matching the quiet intensity he’d held back for so long.

It wasn’t just about the kiss.

It was about everything they hadn’t said… finally speaking. Darry pulled away “you know that a looker like you should’ve known I liked you from the start” Darry whispered sensually in your left ear.

[theoutsiderslvr]

Stolen kisses

Summary: Soda and his girl don’t get free time so they have to sneak around

Warnings: none

Hey guys, first fic on this account, if you guys want anything just send a request! Hope you enjoy.

The loud voices of the gang fill my ears. Sodapop sits next to me on the couch, his warm thigh touches mine. I feel his hand move onto my thigh, the sudden movement makes me shiver. I glance over at him to find that he’s already looking at me. He nods over to the hallway, making me look over in confusion. I realize what he’s insinuating. He leans back, his lips touch the shell of my ear.

“Let’s go to my room” he murmured, keeping his voice down so none of the gang hears-especially Darry. My eyes dart around, making sure no one was paying attention. I get up, and start to walk to the bathroom.

“Where you off to little lady?” Two-bit says while not taking his eyes off the TV.

“Just keep watching Mickey, Two.” I say with a nervous chuckle. Darry raises his eyebrow at me. “Bathroom” I say while heading to the hallway. He nods, turning back around to check on the stove. After I made it down the hallway I walked into Soda’s room instead. I sit on the bed, inhaling his scent that was radiating off his pillow. He comes into the room after a few minutes.

“Are we good?” I ask with a hushed voice, full of uncertainty, looking at the still open door. He puts his finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet, and slowly shuts the door, making sure there’s no creaks that would alert the boys.

“We should be, just gotta stay quiet sweet girl” he says while sitting on the bed, next to me.

“This is the first time we’ve had free time” he grinned, pulling me into a sitting position. We haven’t kissed yet, the moment was always interrupted by his brothers or the gang. I get along with everyone, Johnny the best. Soda cups the side of my face with his palm, I leaned into the warmth with a smile.

“Are you ready?” He asks. The question makes me smile, I nod. That was all he needed and he closed the gap between us. His chapped lips pressed against mine. My chest felt warm and my stomach was doing flips. When we pulled away, we looked at each other and smiled. He put his forehead against mine and we giggled. He pulled me onto his lap and kissed me again, it started off slow and passionate, but the kisses became rougher. He holds onto my waist, my hands find their way into his hair and lightly tug. The few kisses became a full-blown makeout session. We forgot about the lie that caused the situation, too immersed in each other, not hearing the house go silent.

“Soda where’s your gi-“ Darry asked while pushing the door open. Soda pushes me off of him. The door slams shut.

“WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?” Darry yells through the door. “Are y’all decent?” He says exasperated, “You can come in Dare” Soda said flustered. Darry opens the door to find our faces scarlet red and us sitting apart. The gang was outside the door, whooping and hollering.

“Bathroom, huh?” Two-bit laughs, Ponyboy and Johnny look embarrassed and wouldn’t look us in the eyes. Dallas didn’t care, just laughs and walks off. Steve walks in past Darry and pats Soda on the back.

“I knew it buddy” Steve says as Soda shoves him away. Darry pushes everyone out. “Go sit down” he yells at the boys. He looks over at us with a stern look in his eyes. “What the hell are y’all doing? You know I have these rules, but no, y’all don’t ever wanna follow ‘em.” He huffs while pacing. He looks over at us to see us looking down. He sighs “Just get out with the rest of them, this is your one and only warning. I catch y’all again and you,” he says pointing at me “won’t be coming around again, got that?” We both nod.

“Good, now go hang out with your friends, dinners almost ready” he points to the door. “ I was coming to tell you about that but I couldn’t find your girlfriend” he chuckled a bit. Soda got up and left the room, I followed suit, my head hanging low. The whole living room was chatting like normal, except for the fact it was about us. We took our original position on the couch. He looked over at me and smiled, I giggled when Darry gave us a stern look before going into the kitchen to set the table. I grabbed Soda’s hand and laid my head on his shoulder. Soda whispers in my ear. “That was so worth it”

“Wanna risk it again?” I ask with a wink.

[theoutsiderslvr]

Hey guys! This is a new account and I’ve never really written before, but I’m excited to start. I don’t have a very busy schedule so I will be posting a few times a week.

I will write headcannons, oneshots, and chapter fics.

What fandoms I write for!

The outsiders

Dirty dancing

Supernatural

(More to come, just request and I’ll see if I’ve watched it!)

What I will and will not write for

Will:

X male! reader

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Will not:

Incest

Rape

Piss/shit kinks

Underage characters

(Just stuff that might make me uncomfortable)

If you are unsure if I will write for a character or a certain link or something just message me

What characters I will write for

Sodapop Curtis

Steve Randle

Darry Curtis

Dally Winston

Ponyboy Curtis (fluff and angst only, no smut)

Johnny Cade

Two-bit Mathews

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Crowley

Lucifer

Baby

Johnny Castle

(If there are any characters not on here that you want let me know and I’ll see if I want to write about them)