"I love you, Superman!"

The Outsiders Tour Masterlist The Lost Boys Musical

REQUESTS ARE OPEN (only writing for musical characters)

I currently only write for the musical characters !

i take requests for blurbs, headcannons, and etc!!

I don't write nsfw because i am a minor

I write character x character and character x reader

ships I currently write for: marbit, chetcherrycola, acexsodapopxtwo-bit, chetcola, & beverlyxbrill.

any requests or words that make me uncomfortable that are sent to my inbox are being deleted

please read request rules before you send one to my inbox!

just a reminder that this is something I do for fun and for when I have time soooo posts aren't guaranteed to be daily

& = platonic

x = romantic

pink = personal ocs and creations

orange = characters

Ponyboy Curtis Masterlist !

Johnny Cade Masterlist !

Dallas Winston Masterlist !

Dallas Winston Masterlist ! (AJG)

Sodapop Curtis Masterlist !

Darrel Curtis Masterlist !

Keith "Two-Bit" Matthews Masterlist !

Ace Masterlist !

Jena VanElslander Characters Masterlist

Steve Randle Masterlist !

Sherri "Cherry" Valance Masterlist !

Robert "Bob" Sheldon Masterlist!

Marcia M. Meyrink Masterlist !

Beverly (Bev) Jitney-Bush Masterlist !

Paul Holden Masterlist !

Chet Baker Masterlist !

Brill Masterlist !

Cole Zieser Characters Masterlist !

JPC Characters Masterlist !

Victor Carillo Tracey Characters Masterlist !

Hailey Hyde Characters Masterlist !

Davis Wayne Characters Masterlist !

Anna Bermudez Characters Masterlist !

Henry Julian Gendron Characters Masterlist !

Ponyboy Curtis Masterlist ! (TREVOR)

Josh Strobl Characters Masterlist !

Eli!Ponyboy Curtis Masterlist

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Character X Character Masterlist !

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Platonic (Musical Characters) Masterlist !

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Babygirl Curtis Masterlist !

Bunny (Priscilla) Masterlist !

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REQUEST RULES

About Me

@ & LINKS

AO3 @: @d8nielaaaa

DISCORD @: @d8nielaaaa

Discord Server Link: https://discord.gg/tqUGXAgvP

my nyc trip is approaching!

i can’t wait to see the lost boys and give my thoughts later and share my trip! (hopefully i get to meet some of them at stage door)

i’m so so excited for nyc like ygs can’t even comprehend how excited i am to see the lost boys in person

please send restaurant recommendations and places to visit!

i get this question a lot and i’ve been accused a lot-but i don’t use ai for my fics. i’ve compared my writing to ai before and realized that they do sound really similar and i guess it’s just the tone that i write it. i’ve been accused of using ai for emails towards teachers because i write really professionally when it comes to adults. i completely understand this question and honestly understand why because my writing is really similar to ai. i try to switch up my writing and words and i try to use less of these things ( -), but it’s just so easy for me to write like that. i am truly against ai and any ai produced slop-but i will work on my writings and will compare and contrast a little more to make sure it sounds and looks less ai.

Author's Note: why yes yes I can! hopefully this is curated to your liking-please let me know!

you are not alone

Jennifer!Alan Frog x transmasc!reader

Santa Carla was supposed to be temporary.

At least, that was what you told yourself.

Your mom had called it “a fresh start,” the kind of phrase adults liked to use when they were trying to make something painful sound exciting. New house. New school. New town.

But a new town didn’t magically erase the years before it.

It didn’t erase the uncomfortable feeling of being called the wrong name, the frustration of people seeing a version of you that never felt real, or the exhaustion of constantly wondering whether anyone would ever actually understand.

Santa Carla was loud. Strange. Colorful.

And somehow, that made it a little easier.

Nobody here knew who you used to be.

Nobody here knew the version of you that you had spent years trying to leave behind.

You were walking through town one afternoon when you found the Frog Brothers’ comic shop.

It wasn’t exactly the kind of place most people would consider welcoming. The shelves were packed, the walls were covered in posters, and there were enough monster books to make someone question whether the owners slept.

But you liked it.

It felt honest.

“You’re not from around here.”

You looked up.

A girl stood behind the counter, organizing comics into piles. She had a sharp look in her eyes, the kind of person who noticed everything. There was confidence in the way she carried herself, but also something familiar.

Like she knew what it was like to be the odd one out.

“No,” you admitted. “Just moved here.”

She nodded.

“Figured.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That obvious?”

“Kind of.”

She smiled slightly.

“I’m Alan.”

You blinked.

You had expected a guy.

Then again, you had learned quickly that Santa Carla didn’t always follow expectations.

“Wait,” you said. “Alan Frog?”

She crossed her arms.

“Yeah. Why?”

You shook your head.

“No reason. Just… wasn’t expecting—”

“A girl?”

You froze.

Alan didn’t sound angry. Just amused.

“Yeah,” she said. “I get that a lot.”

There was something about the way she said it that made you pause.

Not hurt.

Not embarrassed.

Just tired.

Like she had spent years having to explain herself.

“People expect a lot of things,” Alan continued. “They see a name, they see a picture, they decide they already know everything.”

Your expression changed.

Because you knew exactly what she meant.

Alan noticed.

“You get that too?”

The question was quiet.

You looked down.

“Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

And somehow, that silence felt easier than having to explain.

“I’m trans,” you finally said.

The words came out carefully, like you were waiting for something to happen.

A joke.

A reaction.

Anything.

Instead, Alan just nodded.

“Okay.”

You looked back at her.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugged.

“What else am I supposed to say?”

You laughed a little.

You couldn’t help it.

“I don’t know.”

“Good,” Alan said. “Because I don’t either.”

That was the first time you realized something.

Alan Frog was just as lost as you were.

Not in the same way.

But enough.

Over the next few weeks, you started spending more time at the comic shop.

You learned that Alan was stubborn, brave, and absolutely willing to run directly toward danger if she thought someone needed help.

You also learned that she hated when people underestimated her.

Because people did.

A lot.

And she learned things about you too.

She learned which name made you smile.

She learned that you hated when people treated your identity like a debate.

She learned that sometimes you didn’t need advice.

You just needed someone to sit beside you.

One night, while sorting through old comics, Alan found something.

A notebook tucked between two boxes.

“What’s this?”

You looked over.

“Probably something Edgar left behind.”

Alan opened it.

Inside were notes, sketches, and pages of strange observations about the creatures around Santa Carla.

The vampires.

The boardwalk.

The people who disappeared.

But mixed between the monster research were other things.

Random thoughts.

Questions.

Ideas.

Things Alan and Edgar had written down about themselves.

Alan stared at one page for a long time.

“What?”

She hesitated.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s probably not.”

She sighed.

“It’s just… sometimes I feel like I’m the only person who’s ever felt like this.”

You understood immediately.

“Yeah.”

Alan looked at you.

“Like everyone else got a rulebook and we didn’t?”

You smiled softly.

“Exactly.”

That was the moment something clicked.

Neither of you had been searching for someone exactly like yourselves.

You had been searching for proof that you weren’t alone.

And maybe that was enough.

A few days later, Alan dragged you to a meeting at the comic shop.

You expected more monster hunting.

Instead, you found people.

People who understood.

People who had stories that didn’t fit into neat little boxes.

People who had also spent years feeling like they were the only ones.

Santa Carla was still weird.

Still dangerous.

Still full of secrets.

But now?

It didn’t feel quite as lonely.

Because you and Alan had found something neither of you expected.

Not answers.

Not perfection.

Just proof.

That there were other people like you.

That you existed.

That you belonged.

And in a town full of monsters, that might have been the most important discovery of all.

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Author's Note: aww yes yes! I love this request so much! I hope I delieverd 🫰

favorite thing

Ali!David x gn!reader

The boardwalk never really slept.

Even after the crowds had thinned, after the arcade lights dimmed and the vendors rolled down their shutters, Santa Carla still hummed. The ocean breathed against the shore, motorcycles purred somewhere in the distance, and somewhere overhead, gulls argued with the moon.

David loved the nighttime, but lately he'd found himself loving something else a little more.

"...You're staring again."

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts.

David blinked, realizing he'd been watching you instead of the waves. You were sitting beside him on the old railing overlooking the beach, legs swinging lazily over the edge, wrapped in one of his leather jackets because the sea breeze had turned chilly. Even though vampires didn't really shiver.

"I wasn't staring."

"You absolutely were."

"I was admiring."

You laughed.

That laugh.

It always caught him off guard.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic.

It was just...you.

Warm.

Real.

The kind of sound that settled somewhere deep inside his chest.

He huffed dramatically.

"See? There it is again."

"What?"

"That."

You tilted your head.

"I'm literally just sitting here."

"Exactly."

"As opposed to...?"

"As opposed to doing anything else."

You snorted.

David smiled despite himself.

"You make sitting around look entertaining."

"You've got low standards."

"I've got excellent standards."

"Oh?"

"I picked you."

You looked at him with that expression—the one that always made him feel like he'd accidentally said something far sweeter than he'd intended.

"...That was smooth."

"I know."

"...You definitely didn't rehearse that?"

"I rehearsed it."

You burst into laughter again.

"There they are."

Paul's voice echoed from behind.

The rest of the boys wandered over carrying paper bags full of stolen fries and soda cups.

Marko looked between the two of you.

"He's doing the face."

"What face?" you asked.

"The one where he looks all..." Marko squinted dramatically.

Dwayne supplied, "Hopeless."

"I'm not hopeless."

Paul grinned.

"Oh, buddy."

"You've got heart eyes."

"I do not."

"You followed them around the cave for twenty minutes yesterday because they didn't feed."

"I just wanted to make sure they were okay."

"Then, you wouldn't leave them alone because they were tired." Dwayne added.

"So?." David replied.

"You tucked them in."

"They were sleepy."

"You kissed their forehead."

David paused.

"...That was private."

"You thought we were asleep."

"We weren't."

Marko cackled.

"You even smiled."

"I smile."

"No."

"You smirk."

"Different."

You hid your face behind your hands. "I cannot believe you all keep tabs on him."

"We have to," Paul said. "It's fascinating."

"You've turned our fearless leader into..."

Marko gasped dramatically.

"...a boyfriend."

David groaned.

"You love us." Paul said.

"I tolerate you."

"You love us."

He sighed.

"...Unfortunately."

Paul tossed him a basket of fries.

David caught it one-handed before immediately offering it to you.

"You first."

You blinked.

"You caught those."

"And?"

"You wanted fries."

"I still do."

"...Then eat some."

"You first."

You smiled softly.

"You always let me have the first bite."

David shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"I like watching you decide if the meals worth eating."

"What?"

"You make little faces."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

Paul leaned toward Dwayne.

"They're weird."

"They're adorable."

"They're disgustingly adorable."

David threw a fry at both of them.

A few nights later, the band was rehearsing inside the old hotel.

Star was running harmonies.

Paul was drumming on an overturned crate.

Marko and Dwayne argued over guitar chords.

David should have been paying attention.

Instead...

He watched you dance.

Not professionally.

Not dramatically.

Just...

Because music was playing.

You spun across the dusty floor with your arms stretched out, nearly tripping over an old chair before laughing at yourself.

The others kept playing.

You kept dancing.

David couldn't stop smiling.

Star noticed immediately.

"...David."

"Hm?"

"You missed your cue."

"I did?"

"You've missed three."

Paul looked over.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"He's doing the face again."

David sighed.

"You've got it bad."

"I've got what bad?"

"The giant crush."

David looked at you.

You were now trying to convince Marko to spin with you.

He immediately agreed.

You both nearly crashed into Dwayne.

The room erupted into laughter.

David's expression softened. "...Yeah."

Paul froze.

"...Did he just admit it?"

David didn't even look away. "Yeah."

Silence.

Then—

Paul screamed.

"HE ADMITTED IT!"

"Oh my GOD!"

Marko tackled David into a hug.

"I KNEW IT!"

"Get OFF."

Dwayne laughed so hard he nearly dropped his guitar.

Star just smiled knowingly. You wandered over, completely confused.

"...What happened?"

Paul pointed dramatically.

"He likes you."

David pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I was going to tell them eventually."

"You just did."

"I meant with dignity."

"You've never had dignity."

"Fair."

You looked between everyone before finally settling on David.

"...Do you?"

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I was hoping to be smoother."

"I think getting publicly exposed by your band is pretty memorable."

"So..."

"So?"

"...Do you like me?"

You smiled so brightly it almost hurt to look at.

"I thought I was being obvious."

"You were?"

"I've literally been stealing your jackets because they smell like you."

"...I thought you were just cold."

"Vampires don't get cold."

A beat passed.

Then you reached over and slipped your hand into his.

"I also happen to like the guy attached to the jacket."

For perhaps the first time in centuries...

David had absolutely nothing clever to say.

Paul gasped dramatically.

"He's speechless."

"Someone write this down."

"It's historical."

David rolled his eyes before intertwining his fingers with yours.

"...You're all insufferable."

"But you're happy," Star said.

He looked at you.

Your thumb absentmindedly traced circles across the back of his hand.

You caught him looking.

"What?"

"...Nothing."

"You've got that look again."

"What look?"

"The one where you're staring."

He smiled.

"No."

"No?"

"I'm admiring."

This time, when you laughed, he decided it might actually be his favorite sound in the world.

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yes yes yes I can!

Author's Note: yes yes ofc! happy Fourth of July everyone!

red, white, and blue

a Tulsa 4th of July

The Curtis house was louder than usual.

Not because anyone was fighting.

Because everyone was trying to talk over each other.

"The parade starts at ten!" Soda announced from the kitchen, somehow already dressed despite it barely being eight in the morning.

"It starts at eleven," Darry corrected without looking up from the pancakes.

"Nah, they changed it."

"They didn't."

"They did."

"They didn't."

"You wanna bet?"

Before Darry could answer, the screen door slammed open.

Steve Randle burst inside carrying an armful of paper bags.

"I GOT THE FIREWORKS!"

Darry looked up so fast Steve immediately corrected himself.

"...The legal ones."

Silence.

"...Mostly."

"Steve."

"I'm kidding!"

Ace walked in behind him, rolling her eyes so hard it looked painful. She stole one of Darry's pancakes right off the plate.

"They're actually legal," she said while chewing. "I watched him buy them."

Steve looked offended.

"You make me sound suspicious."

"You are suspicious."

"Fair."

Johnny wandered in after them, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"What's goin' on?"

Steve immediately dumped the bags onto the table.

Sparklers.

Smoke bombs.

Snakes.

Roman candles.

Little fountains.

Bottle rockets.

Johnny's eyes lit up.

"...Whoa."

Ponyboy wandered in with his hair sticking up in every direction.

He blinked once.

Then saw the pile.

"...No way."

"Happy Fourth!" Steve grinned.

Ponyboy practically dove toward the sparklers.

"We got these?"

"And more."

Sodapop leaned over dramatically.

"We're basically rich."

"We're basically not," Darry muttered.

Two-Bit came strolling through the door without knocking.

"I smelled pancakes."

"You live four blocks away."

"I got a gift." He proudly held up three bags of candy.

Ace gasped dramatically.

"You brought red, white, and blue taffy!"

"I'm a patriot."

"No," Steve laughed.

"You're hungry."

"That too."

By noon the entire gang had somehow ended up walking around town together.

Two-Bit had already stole one tiny American flag.

Then another.

Then five more.

He started handing them out.

"Everyone gets one!"

Ace immediately tucked hers into the pocket of her shorts.

Johnny carefully stuck his into the pocket of his jean jacket.

Ponyboy twirled his around like a sword.

Steve tucked one behind his ear.

"You look ridiculous," Ace laughed.

"I look festive."

"You look like Uncle Sam lost a bar fight."

Sodapop nearly doubled over laughing.

The town square was packed. Kids ran around with face paint. Music played from old speakers. Someone was grilling hamburgers.

The smell made everyone hungry again despite having eaten an hour earlier.

Steve pointed dramatically.

"Cotton candy!"

"We literally just ate."

"So?"

"Ice cream!"

"So?"

"Lemonade!"

"So?"

"Corn dogs!"

Ace laughed.

"You've got the appetite of three people."

"I work hard."

"You annoy hard."

Johnny quietly wandered over to a booth giving away tiny glow bracelets for the fireworks later.

The volunteer smiled.

"Take as many as you want."

Johnny hesitated.

"...Really?"

"Of course."

He grabbed enough for everyone.

When he handed Ace a blue one she smiled.

"Thanks, Johnny." His face turned pink.

Later that afternoon everyone ended up sprawled across the Curtis yard.

The heat was miserable.

Even Steve had stopped moving.

Ace sat on the porch steps with a melting popsicle.

"I'm gonna become one with this porch."

Ponyboy groaned from the grass.

"I'm melting."

Soda tossed a garden hose toward him.

"Problem solved."

Pony barely had time to react before Soda turned the water on.

Cold water blasted straight into Ponyboy's face.

He shrieked.

"HEY!"

Soda was already laughing.

Ace snatched the hose.

"Oh, we're doing this now?"

Steve looked horrified.

"...Ace."

She smiled sweetly.

"...Run."

Chaos erupted.

Steve sprinted across the yard.

Ace chased him with the hose.

Johnny laughed so hard he had to sit down.

Two-Bit somehow got caught in the middle and screamed dramatically.

"I'M AN INNOCENT MAN!"

"No you're not!" everyone shouted.

That evening everyone piled into blankets at the park waiting for the fireworks.

The sky slowly darkened.

Kids waved glow sticks.

Music drifted through the warm summer air.

For once...

Everyone was quiet.

Ponyboy leaned back on his elbows.

"I think this is my favorite holiday."

Johnny nodded softly.

"Mine too."

Steve stretched his arms behind his head.

"Nothin' to do except eat junk and blow stuff up."

Ace bumped his shoulder.

"You're definitely related to me."

He grinned.

"Darn right."

A whistle echoed across the park.

Everyone looked up.

BOOM!

A brilliant burst of red exploded across the night sky.

Then blue.

Then white.

The fireworks reflected in every pair of eyes as the gang watched together.

Ponyboy smiled without even realizing it.

Johnny looked completely at peace.

Soda kept pointing excitedly every time a new firework bloomed.

Steve whooped every time one was louder than the last.

Ace clapped every single time, grinning like a little kid.

Even Darry, who usually worried about everything, let himself relax.

For one warm summer night, with fireworks lighting up the Oklahoma sky and all of them together, life felt simple.

And that was worth celebrating just as much as the Fourth of July.

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Could you do a Victor!Darrel x reader where maybe it’s a couple years after the canon timeline and they are just in a happy relationship doing happy couple things?

(relationship status and all other things are up to you!)

Author's Note: yes yes! i love me some Darrel writing

just a sweet life

Victor!Darrel Curtis x reader

The sun always felt different in the years after everything happened.

Not softer—just quieter. Like the world had finally decided to stop screaming for a while.

Darry noticed it most on mornings like this.

He was in the kitchen before dawn, sleeves rolled up, coffee already brewed because he’d been up since habit-thirty, not because he needed to be. The house was still half-asleep, the kind of stillness that used to make him uneasy back when silence meant something bad was coming.

Now it just meant peace.

Behind him, he heard soft footsteps.

“You’re up early,” you said gently, voice still thick with sleep.

Darrel didn’t turn right away. He didn’t need to. “You say that like it’s new.”

“It isn't,” you replied, and there was a hint of a smile in it.

That made him glance over his shoulder.

You were standing in the doorway in one of his old shirts, hair messy, eyes half-lidded with warmth instead of exhaustion. There was something about seeing you like that—like you belonged here, like you’d always belonged here—that still made something in his chest tighten in a way he never said out loud.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

You shook your head. “You weren’t there.”

That was all it took.

Darrel set the mug down and crossed the kitchen in a few steady steps. No hesitation. No overthinking. Just him.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You exhaled softly, immediately leaning into him.

“You always do that,” you murmured.

“Do what?”

“Act like I’ll break.”

Darrel’s hand rested at your back, firm but careful. “No,” he said simply. “Act like I like having you close.”

That earned him a quiet laugh against his shoulder.

Life with Darrel Curtis wasn’t loud romance. It wasn’t flashy or dramatic. It was small things.

Him remembering how you took your coffee. You leaving notes on the counter because he woke up before you did. The way he always stood slightly between you and the street without realizing it. The way you always ended up leaning into his side on the couch without asking.

It was safe in a way neither of you had grown up expecting.

Later that day, you were both outside fixing the old fence out back. It didn’t really need fixing—it just gave Darrel something to do with his hands when he was thinking too much.

You were sitting on the porch steps watching him work when he finally said, “You’re staring again.”

“I always stare at you,” you replied.

“That’s not normal.”

You tilted your head. “Says the man who’s been re-nailing the same board for twenty minutes.”

That made him pause, then—very faintly—the corner of his mouth lifted.

He walked over, crouched in front of you, and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It was quick. Automatic.

You didn’t flinch.

Neither of you commented on it.

Instead, you just looked at him like that was exactly where his hand belonged.

Darrel stayed there a second longer than necessary.

“…You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You hesitated, then smiled a little. “How weird it is that I’m happy. Still waiting for it to feel like it’s gonna get taken away.”

That hit something in him, sharp and familiar.

He didn’t lecture. Didn’t try to fix it with words that didn’t fit.

He just said, “Ain’t going anywhere.”

And because it was Darrel Curtis, it didn’t sound like a promise he made lightly.

It sounded like a fact.

A few weeks after

It was late when you realized something was off.

Not in a dramatic way. Just small things.

You’d been tired more often. Coffee didn’t taste right some mornings. You kept forgetting meals in a way that didn’t feel like you.

Darrel noticed before you said anything.

Of course he did.

He was leaning against the bathroom doorway when you stepped out, already brushing his hair back like he’d been waiting.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“I’m always quiet.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

You looked at him.

That was the thing about Darrel—he didn’t push, but he saw everything anyway.

You swallowed. “I think I should take a test.”

His expression didn’t change much, but something in his eyes shifted immediately. Focus. Grounded. Steady.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll get one.”

“No,” you said quickly, then softer, “I’ll do it. Just… stay?”

He nodded once.

That was all.

No pacing. No questions. No panic spoken out loud. Just him sitting on the edge of the tub while you stood there holding something that suddenly felt heavier than it should.

Minutes passed like hours.

When you finally stepped out again, the test was in your hand.

You didn’t even need to say anything.

The look on your face was enough.

Darrel stood up slowly.

“…You sure?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, eyes glossy. “Yeah.”

He exhaled through his nose like he was steadying himself, then stepped forward.

Careful. Always careful.

His hands came up to your shoulders first, like he was asking without words.

You nodded again.

And then he pulled you into him.

Not tight enough to overwhelm. Just enough to anchor you both in place.

You let out a shaky laugh into his shirt. “We’re not good at reacting to things, are we?”

Darrel’s hand moved slowly up your back. “We’re fine.”

A pause.

Then, quieter, “We’ll figure it out.”

And for once, that didn’t feel like something uncertain.

Author's Note: awww yes yes ofc! i love marcia and two-bit, my fav characters of all time🫰

sweet hands

Daryl!Keith "Two-Bit" Matthews x SG!Marcia M. Meyrink

❗️alludes to past abuse

Two-Bit had never really understood the concept of “too much space between people.”

If there was a couch, he sat too close. If there was a hallway, he brushed shoulders. If someone was within arm’s reach, it felt almost rude not to bump them, shove them lightly, or sling an arm around like it was second nature.

So when he started spending time with Marcia after everything settled down—the greasers not fighting every other night, the Socs not circling like they used to—he noticed something different about her right away.

She didn’t move closer.

Not at first.

Not ever on her own.

Marcia would stand near him like she wanted to be part of the moment but not quite inside it. Like there was an invisible line she kept redrawing every time someone got too close.

And Two-Bit, for once, didn’t immediately cross it.

Which, for him, was saying something.

It happened one afternoon behind the old Dairy Queen. Ponyboy and Steve, and it had just ended up being Two-Bit and Marcia leaning against the cracked concrete wall outside.

She was quiet in a way that wasn’t exactly comfortable, but wasn’t exactly sad either. Just careful.

Two-Bit twirled a straw wrapper between his fingers.

“You know,” he said lightly, “you’re kinda hard to read.”

Marcia glanced at him. “Is that bad?”

“Nah,” he said quickly. Then, after a beat, softer, “Just not used to it.”

She nodded like she understood what he meant, even if she probably didn’t.

Two-Bit shifted his weight. His instinct was to nudge her shoulder. He always nudged people. It was how he talked without talking.

But his hand stopped halfway.

Marcia had noticed.

Her posture tightened almost imperceptibly, like her body was bracing for something she didn’t want but expected anyway.

Two-Bit dropped his hand back to his side like it had burned him.

“…Sorry,” he said, quieter than usual.

Marcia blinked. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, a little rougher now, but not at her. At himself. “I was gonna—forget it. Habit.”

That made her look at him differently. Not softer exactly. Just… more present.

They stood there for a moment, the distance between them suddenly very intentional.

Then Marcia spoke, voice low. “Trip… he used to grab me a lot.”

Two-Bit went still.

Not the joking kind of still he did when someone told a dramatic story. The real kind.

“He didn’t like it when I said no,” she continued, eyes fixed on the ground. “So I started… expecting it. Even when it wasn’t coming.”

Two-Bit swallowed hard. “Trip.”

It wasn’t a question.

She nodded once.

That name was enough for anyone in their world to understand the shape of it without needing details.

Two-Bit exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw tight. “That’s not on you,” he said immediately. “None of that’s on you.”

Marcia didn’t respond right away. Like she didn’t quite know what to do with that sentence.

Inside, the soda machine clunked loudly. Normal life kept going like it always did.

Two-Bit scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” he added. “I just… I don’t always think before I move.”

“I noticed,” she said faintly.

That should’ve stung, but he actually huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

A pause.

Then Marcia surprised him.

“You can ask,” she said.

Two-Bit looked at her. “Ask what?”

“Before you touch me.”

That hit him in a way he didn’t expect—not like rejection, but like something carefully handed over with shaking hands.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

He waited a second, then added, “Can I sit closer?”

Marcia hesitated.

It wasn’t long. But it was real.

Then she nodded once.

“Yeah.”

So he moved—not fast, not joking, not loud. Just closer, until the space between them wasn’t empty anymore, but also wasn’t gone.

Like a bridge instead of a crash.

A few minutes passed.

Then Two-Bit spoke again, softer this time. “You ever want me to stop, you just say it. Or look at me like I’m being an idiot. I’m good at reading that one.”

That got the smallest hint of a smile out of her.

“Okay,” she said.

Inside, Ponyboy called their names, and the door banged open as Soda laughed about something dumb.

Marcia didn’t flinch when Two-Bit shifted again—this time slower, more deliberate.

And after a moment, she moved just a little closer on her own.

Not much.

But enough that Two-Bit noticed.

And for him, that was everything.

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lost boys musical Michael x reader x David where Michael and reader are already a couple when they move to Santa Carla: where they will discover that David is both of their mates :P

any kind of trope is fine! thinking maybe we get a bit of a flirtier David than normal, more nervous mike, and a reader that isn't overwhelmingly sensitive/crying all the time!

thank u sm 💛

Author's Note: yes yes yess! I love this idea so freaking much!

bound for life

Ali!David x gn!reader x LJ!Michael Emerson

🩸in which David is both Michael and Reader's mate. Michael and Reader are already in a established relationship.

The cliffs above Santa Carla were quieter than the boardwalk—quiet in the way that made the hunger feel louder.

You walked just behind David, close enough to feel the faint pull of him without him even looking back. Michael stayed at your side like he always did when he was trying not to spiral into his own head—shoulder slightly tense, jaw working like he had something to say and couldn’t decide if it was worth the risk.

The deer still grazed ahead, unaware.

Michael broke first. “This feels wrong.”

David didn’t turn. “Everything we are feels wrong to you.”

“That’s not what I—” Michael exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “We used to be people. We’re still… us. We’re just—this now.”

“Vampires,” David supplied lazily. “Say it like it doesn’t itch in your mouth.”

Michael shot him a look. “You don’t get it.”

David finally stopped walking.

That alone changed the air.

He turned, slowly, like he had all the time in the world—and maybe he did. His gaze landed on Michael first, then shifted to you, softer in a way he rarely let anyone else see.

“I get more than you think,” David said. “I just don’t bleed about it in public.”

A beat.

Then he stepped closer to Michael—not crowding him, but close enough that Michael had to tilt his head up slightly to keep eye contact.

“You think I wasn’t turned the same way?” David’s voice dropped a little. “Thrown into something I didn’t ask for. Learning what I was by accident instead of choice.”

Michael’s expression flickered. “You never talk about it.”

“That’s because it doesn’t change anything.” A faint, humorless smile. “We are what we are.”

You shifted slightly at that, and David’s attention slid to you immediately, like a magnet snapping into place.

“But,” he added, voice softening just for you, “what we do with it—that part matters.”

The deer lifted its head.

You felt it then—the familiar tightening in your chest, the instinct pulling forward like a current.

And then Michael’s hand brushed yours.

Not grabbing. Not stopping. Just there.

A reminder.

David watched that small contact with something unreadable in his expression before he stepped aside and gestured loosely toward the clearing.

“Go on, then,” he said.

Michael blinked. “You’re not going to—hover?”

David huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m always hovering. I’m just usually less polite about it.”

That earned the smallest reluctant curve of Michael’s mouth.

You both moved forward together.

It wasn’t graceful. It never was. Hunger didn’t care about grace. But this time there was no panic behind it—no desperate edge pushing you past yourself.

Just need. Controlled. Shared.

When it was over, the world felt steadier.

Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for hours. “That’s… better,” he admitted, almost surprised.

“Still not great,” you added, voice steady.

“No,” Michael agreed. “But… better.”

From behind you, David made a quiet sound of approval.

When you turned, he was leaning against a rock with his arms crossed, watching both of you like he was evaluating something only he could see.

“Look at that,” he said. “My starving little tragedies learning moderation.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but there was less tension in it now. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I’m always enjoying something.” David’s gaze flicked to you. “Especially when you stop looking like you’re about to disappear into your own guilt.”

You didn’t flinch this time. Just met his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

Something shifted in his expression at that—subtle, but real.

“Good,” David said simply. Then, after a pause, added, “Because I’d find it irritating.”

Michael let out a quiet laugh under his breath. “That’s your version of emotional honesty?”

“It’s my best version.”

The walk back was slower.

Not because of exhaustion—vampire bodies didn’t really do exhaustion the same way anymore—but because none of you were rushing to escape your own thoughts.

At some point, Michael drifted a little closer to you, shoulder brushing yours again.

David noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

“You two are getting worse,” he said mildly.

“Worse how?” Michael asked.

“Attached.”

Michael actually sputtered. “We’re—what?”

David’s grin sharpened. “Relax. I didn’t say it was a complaint.”

You glanced between them. “It kind of sounded like a complaint.”

“It was observation,” David corrected. “Complaints are louder.”

Michael muttered, “That doesn’t make it better.”

David stepped in front of both of you then, stopping you at the edge of the path where the cliffs opened back toward the distant glow of Santa Carla.

For a moment, he just looked at you.

Not like prey. Not like property.

Like something chosen.

“You did well tonight,” he said, quieter than before.

Michael’s brows lifted slightly, like he hadn’t expected praise to feel like that.

David’s gaze lingered on him next. “Both of you.”

A pause.

Then, almost like it annoyed him to admit it out loud:

“I don’t want to lose either of you to your heads.”

The honesty hung there, unpolished.

Michael looked away first, but his voice was softer when he spoke. “Yeah. Same.”

You nodded once. “We’re still here.”

David studied that for a long moment.

Then he smirked faintly, like he couldn’t stay serious too long without it tasting wrong.

“Good,” he said again. “Because I’m not in the habit of sharing well with absence.”

And just like that, he turned and started walking again—leading the way back toward the lights, toward the noise, toward whatever version of eternity you were all going to survive together.

Michael moved beside you without hesitation this time.

David didn’t look back.

But he didn’t need to.

He already knew you were both following.

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Author's Note: I guess my version of David's flirting is just being mean 😢. this is honeslty super butt so i’m really really sorry but i am in the process of writing a whole other version where David is a more nicer but reader is more timid so if you do want to maybe read that version aswell please lmk!

Author's Note: yes ofc I'm still writing for the outsiders anon! always got to go back to my roots and I actually love this request so so much!

joints bring people together

Daryl!Dallas Winston x Anna!Beverly Jitney-Bush

The nightly double drive-In buzzed with the usual Saturday crowd.

Old Chevys and Fords filled the lot. Kids laughed. Someone had a portable radio blasting Elvis. The smell of popcorn, burgers, and gasoline lingered in the warm Oklahoma air.

On one side of the lot sat the greasers.

Ponyboy leaned against Two-Bit's car with a Coke.

Johnny sat beside him, quiet as ever.

Steve and Two-Bit were arguing over who had cheated during pool earlier.

And Dallas...

Dallas had one boot propped on the bumper, cigarette hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth as he watched everyone with bored blue eyes.

Across the lot—

"Ugh."

Beverly crossed her arms.

Silky brown hair.

Gold earrings.

Immaculate coral dress that somehow hadn't gotten a speck of dust on it despite standing in a gravel parking lot.

Around her were Cherry, Marcia, Paul, and Bob.

"They're here," Beverly muttered.

Cherry sighed.

"They're always here."

"They ruin everything."

Bob snorted.

"They're just trash."

Beverly didn't even look embarrassed agreeing.

"No good nobodies," she said flatly. "Every single one of them."

Almost on cue—

Dallas looked over.

Their eyes met.

He rolled his own dramatically.

"Well," he drawled loud enough for everyone to hear, "if it ain't Princess Beverly."

Beverly's lip curled.

"Oh look."

"The jailbird."

Two-Bit immediately whispered to Ponyboy,

"Here we go."

Dallas smirked.

"Didn't know they let dolls like you outta the country club after dark."

"They usually don't," Beverly replied sweetly.

"But they make exceptions when they hear the circus is in town."

Steve barked out a laugh.

"Pony, I think she just called us clowns."

Dallas tipped his head.

"You got a real mouth on you."

"And you've got a criminal record."

Johnny quietly looked at Ponyboy.

"She's gonna get herself killed..."

Dallas pushed himself off the car.

"Oh yeah?"

He took a few slow steps closer.

"What're you gonna do about it?"

Beverly didn't move an inch.

"I'm going to stand here."

She smiled with practiced sweetness.

"And wait."

"For what?"

"For you to inevitably get arrested."

Two-Bit burst out laughing.

"She's got ya there, Dally."

Dallas flipped him off without looking away from Beverly.

"You think you're real funny."

"I know I am."

"You think you're better than everybody."

"I know I am."

There wasn't even hesitation.

That somehow irritated Dallas more.

He scoffed.

"Rich little brat."

"Delinquent."

"Spoiled princess."

"Street rat."

Cherry pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Oh my God."

"They're children."

Ten minutes later.

The movie had started.

Everyone had settled into their own groups.

The arguing had finally stopped.

Mostly.

Dallas wandered toward the snack stand.

Not because he wanted popcorn.

He wanted another cigarette.

The old neon sign buzzed overhead as he stepped behind the building where employees usually took smoke breaks.

Quiet.

No people.

Perfect.

He reached into his jacket.

Pulled out his pack.

Tapped one loose.

Then—

"...Seriously?"

He froze.

There, leaning against the brick wall with one ankle crossed over the other...

...was Beverly.

Also holding a cigarette.

She looked equally annoyed to see him.

"No."

Dallas blinked.

"You smoke?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"I'm holding it for decoration."

He snorted despite himself.

"Figures."

She clicked open a silver lighter.

"Mind your business."

The flame flickered.

She lit the cigarette with practiced ease.

Not awkwardly.

Not experimentally.

Like she'd done it a hundred times.

Dallas stared.

"...Well I'll be damned."

"What?"

"I didn't peg you for a smoker."

"And I didn't peg you for someone capable of coherent conversation."

He chuckled.

"Fair enough."

She took a slow drag.

"So."

"You gonna leave?"

"Nah."

He pulled out his own lighter.

"I was here first."

"You absolutely were not."

"You gonna call the cops?"

She gave him a sideways glance.

"I've considered it."

"You always this pleasant?"

"Only around greasers."

Dallas lit his cigarette.

The orange glow briefly illuminated the scar near his jaw.

For a moment...

Neither of them spoke.

The sounds of the movie drifted faintly from the speakers.

Crickets chirped.

Cars idled.

Smoke curled into the night air.

Finally—

Dallas looked over.

"So."

"What brand?"

Beverly hesitated.

"...Lucky Strikes."

Dallas slowly lowered his cigarette.

"...You're kidding."

"What?"

He held up his own pack.

Lucky Strikes.

The exact same kind.

Beverly stared.

"...You've got to be joking."

"I'm not."

Silence.

Neither one wanted to admit it.

Finally Dallas muttered,

"Well."

"Guess you've got one decent thing about you."

Beverly rolled her eyes so hard it was almost impressive.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"I wasn't."

"You smoke my cigarettes."

"They're not your cigarettes."

"They're my brand."

"They belong to thousands of people."

Dallas laughed.

An actual laugh.

Short.

Rough.

Surprised.

Beverly looked at him.

"...What?"

"Nothin'."

"You laughed."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

He took another drag.

"Maybe you're less unbearable when you're not yappin'."

She smirked despite herself.

"Maybe you're less insufferable when you're not trying to impress your little gang."

For a split second...

Neither of them looked angry.

Just...two teenagers sharing a cigarette behind a snack stand, hidden from friends who would never believe they were standing within five feet of each other without trying to start a fight.

Then someone rounded the corner.

"Dally?"

Johnny stopped dead.

His eyes bounced between Dallas...

...and Beverly...

...both smoking...

...standing in complete silence.

He blinked.

"...Am I interrupting something?"

Dallas and Beverly answered at exactly the same time.

"No."

"No."

They turned to glare at each other again.

Johnny decided very quickly that he didn't want to know what was going on, and quietly backed around the corner, wondering how two people who seemed to hate each other so much could look so strangely at ease sharing the same patch of shadow behind the drive-in.

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