could you do ponyboy with an extroverted girl? i feel like that'd be cute.
you are a supernova, and it suits you. you find that everything about the two of you is celestial, the way stars crossed but brought you together.
you like your free time, and being around your friends, and a possessive greaser boyfriend never fit into that lifestyle.
you’re a powerful presence, one that ponyboy has noticed before, but he’s never entertained the idea of someone like you, with him.
and ponyboy is shadows and shy smiles, and life moved far too fast for you to stop and find him.
he wonders how much of his quiet demeanor comes from his experiences, and how much is just really him.
when you meet him, it’s at a dance you begged your friends to acompany you to.
he’s introduced to you as sodapop curtis’ brother, who you knew from your friends’ frequent visits to the auto shop, to drool over the boys who worked there.
you haven’t gotten to talking to him much, but you gather that he’s not much of a conversationalist.
when a fight breaks out between dallas winston and some greaser, ponyboy jumps to the former’s defense.
he’d looked like too nice of a kid to be hanging around hoods like dallas winston, but when their attackers needed to be dragged away, and ponyboy got away with nothing but a split cheek and a few bloody knuckles, you knew there was something beneath, secrets behind his silence that you meant to find out.
god, he’s oblivious, but you’re thinking that the chase wouldn’t be half as fun if it was easy.
when he does see your interest, he assumes it’s friendly, going out with you often but never making a move.
not until a night in his room, at midnight, when he realized how late it’d gotten yet you were still here.
he realizes how you could get ripped to shreds at home for missing curfew, how you could’ve gone out dancing with friends, or see a movie with a guy, and yet, you came here.
and when he kisses you suddenly, you’re surprised that he moved first.
and for all his silence, when his lips are on yours, bruising and begging, and biting at your lower lip, the roaring in your ears is deafening.
he’s always been that way, you guess, better at expressing how he’s feeling with his writing, his art, his actions, than spoken words.
when you take him out with friends, you always make sure you leave early enough to spend time at home alone together for a while.
sometimes you don’t leave at all, and wrapped in his arms as he reads to you from a novel, you realize you don’t mind at all.
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