The Outsiders: Preferences and Imagines

Protective (Sodapop X Reader)

You had never seen someone make Soda light up like you did. He'd been so proud that you were his; there hadn't been a single time where he was reluctant to show you off. He seemed to just love slipping a hand into one of the back pockets of your jeans or holding you close by your waist. Sometimes, all he wanted to do was take you out - he wanted people to know that you were his. After a year or so, it was pretty easy to say that everyone and their mother in Tulsa knew you were Soda's girl.

So, Soda took you out one summer night – to the Nightly Double – knowing how you adored drive-ins. Humidity and heat hung in the air over the two of you inside's Soda's partly souped-up hooptie, which didn't seem to really bother you; it was the middle of July. "Think we shoulda just went for ice cream?" he asked you, beaming, as a bead of sweat slid down his temple.

"That might've been a wise idea," you agreed, pushing some away the hair sticking a bit to your face and neck. "How 'bout we just wait it out? It might get cooler with the sun going down and all."

"I don't see why not. I mean, I have you right here, don't I? A little sweat never hurt no one," he responded with a shrug, unable to quit his gaze at you. "I'm sure it'll be a ball! I'll go get us somethin' to drink or snack on. How 'bout some coke?"

"God, that sounds great. I could use somethin' cold to drink right about now, " you said giggling a little, wiping some sweat off your forehead.

"Alright, then," Soda said, reaching into his pocket for change before opening the door and climbing out the car. "I'll be back in a second. Holler if you need me, okay?"

You nodded and watched him walk away and towards the concession stand, only to spot through the side-view mirror another figure - a harsher silhouette - make its way toward you. He was definitely a greaser, but you just couldn't put a finger on him. For some odd reason, you had a feeling that even Soda wouldn't be able to recognize him. Needless, to say, it wasn't Soda's friends or brothers and his towering stature made you uneasy. But all was well because you knew that this guy would pass this car by.

Except he didn't. He came right up to your door and propped his elbows on the bottom of your rolled-down window, peering into the car, right at you. He probably had seen Soda leave.

"Y/N, right?" he asked.

"What's it to you?" you quickly responded with a sideways glance. Oddly enough, the guy started to laugh a little.

"Take it easy, pretty girl. I just wanted to know," he said, carelessly shrugging. "Don't you wanna get outta here? Sit in a real hotrod? Or does only Sodapop Curtis peel these offa you?" He tugged on your shirt, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Don't you got anything better to do? Scram," you said while you rolled your eyes, pulling yourself away from his tugging and further away from the window in general.

"But, tell me - what's a girl like you doin' with Sodapop Curtis anyhow? C'mon, baby, we all know he's just a dog – probably sleepin' around with bunches of girls. I mean, I'll admit, I'm a dog, too, but I'm not one like him. Baby, how much you wanna bet he's still screwin' Sandy?"

You had to admit – that hurt quite a bit. You couldn't hide that it's always been a thought in the back of your mind.

"Ain't that right? You're not a dog like him; you're a bitch," you finally said, mustering up enough of the courage to make him leave.

"Oh, aren't you a funny thin-"

But before he could finish his sentence, he seemed to be yoked backward by someone. By Soda. He had probably been eavesdropping for a bit before he sat the popcorn and cola on the roof of the car.

"If you do so much as even breathe her way again, so help me god, I'll beat the living shit outta you, you hear me?" Soda spoke through gritted teeth, practically steaming at the sight of this guy. "Believe me, I know plenty who'd jump at the opportunity of punching your lights out. Darry bein' one of 'em."

The stranger aggressively pulled himself away from Soda's grip and glared at him and then at you. Without a word, walked away and Soda's stare followed until he was nearly out of sight.

Soda grabbed the snacks he'd bought and climbed back into the driver's side. He passed you your drink and looked at you intensely, almost angrily. "What'd he say to you? Was he dirty with you? 'Cause I swear I'll-"

"You're not messin' around with other girls are you?" you bluntly questioned, just aching to get the question out before you told yourself you shouldn't.

"Y/N, no! Is that what he told you? I love you, Y/N. You're my girl – my only girl." Your lips began to turn upwards into a small grin. Hearing him call you his had always made you smile. He brought a hand to your chin and tilted your head up a bit so that your lips would meet his own.