“Ponyboy, why are you so-“
“I don’t like the way he looked at you.” He says as he puts his wallet in the nightstand.
You had gone out to bar, just to have a good time on a Friday night. You saw an old friend from your hometown and got to talking. You didn’t think anything really happened.
“Ponyboy, nothing-”
“You know what he was thinking. I mean, in that dress…” He says, eyes going over you. You were wearing a tight black mini dress and heels.
“I don’t look that-“
“Yes you do. You look beautiful… And I know it’s wrong but fucking sexy.” He says, looking you dead in the eye.
“Well, it’s not my fault what he thinks.”
“I just hope your smart enough not to fool around or anything.” He shoots back at you.
You chew you on your lip, not knowing what to say.
He walks over to you from across the bedroom.
“You’re jealous.” You finally mutter.
“Yeah, I am. I want to be the only one able to look at you like that.”
Before you know it, your pushed up against the wall, tongues battling it out. You start unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off. He unzips your dress, pulling it over your head. His strong hands grab your hips, spinning you around, and throws you on the bed.
He bites, his lip, eyes looking you up and down.
“You wanna fuck me?” You tease, raising your eyebrows, smirk on your face
He doesn’t answer, just undoes his belt and slips off his jeans.
He gets on top of you, hungrily kissing you, reaching under you to unclasp your bra, pulling it off, and tossing it across the room.
He leaves a trail of kisses from your neck, all the way down to edge of your panties.
He pulls them down with his teeth, to your knees. He trails his tongue up your thigh…
“I don’t like the way he looked at you.” He says as he puts his wallet in the nightstand.
You had gone out to bar, just to have a good time on a Friday night. You saw an old friend from your hometown and got to talking. You didn’t think anything really happened.
“Ponyboy, nothing-”
“You know what he was thinking. I mean, in that dress…” He says, eyes going over you. You were wearing a tight black mini dress and heels.
“I don’t look that-“
“Yes you do. You look beautiful… And I know it’s wrong but fucking sexy.” He says, looking you dead in the eye.
“Well, it’s not my fault what he thinks.”
“I just hope your smart enough not to fool around or anything.” He shoots back at you.
You chew you on your lip, not knowing what to say.
He walks over to you from across the bedroom.
“You’re jealous.” You finally mutter.
“Yeah, I am. I want to be the only one able to look at you like that.”
Before you know it, your pushed up against the wall, tongues battling it out. You start unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off. He unzips your dress, pulling it over your head. His strong hands grab your hips, spinning you around, and throws you on the bed.
He bites, his lip, eyes looking you up and down.
“You wanna fuck me?” You tease, raising your eyebrows, smirk on your face
He doesn’t answer, just undoes his belt and slips off his jeans.
He gets on top of you, hungrily kissing you, reaching under you to unclasp your bra, pulling it off, and tossing it across the room.
He leaves a trail of kisses from your neck, all the way down to edge of your panties.
He pulls them down with his teeth, to your knees. He trails his tongue up your thigh…
Ponyboy’s Perspective
“Dad?”
“Yeah, Scar?” I say, looking away from the football game I was watching. I was holding Ella, she was 4 months old now.
“How did you and Mom meet?” The 12 year old asked.
“I bet it was an epic love story.” Eight year old Rhett says sarcastically.
“Was Mommy pretty when you met her?” Charlie, who was five now, asked.
“The prettiest girl I’d ever seen.” I smiled down at him. “Until Scar and Ella came along. Now I know the three prettiest girls in the world. Anyways, there’s not much to tell. I saw her one day, and I fell in love. I thought she didn’t like me…”
“Nah, I like you a lot.” (Y/N) grinned from the doorway.
Seventeen.
Seventeen bottles of beer I have drunk in the past 37 minutes.
Seventeen.
I pick up number eighteen, twist the cap off, and pour it down my throat. It’s tasteless.
I lean my head back against the wall from where I sit on the floor of my basement.
I see a football. Danny’s football. It used to be Danny’s football. Now it’s just some football my son used to hold, used to play with. It probably smelled like him. Part of me wanted to go pick it up, the other part of me didn’t wanted to be reminded of the last time we played football together.
I pick up number nineteen, and out of the corner of my eye see (Y/N)’s old dolls, something we thought we could use for our little girl someday.
But that’s not going to happen.
I know what happened. I saw their mangled, bruised, broken, dead bodies after their accident.
I pick up number twenty.
Oh God how was I going to say this.
The rest of my life depended on this.
She was just perfect. In every way possible. She was beautiful. Kind. Sweet. Funny. Understanding. Just (Y/N).
And I needed to tell her.
Tell her how much I needed her, wanted her, and had to have her. It was a feeling beyond comprehension. It was love.
I needed to tell her I loved her.
So here I am, sitting in the lot, looking at the stars with (Y/N). Doing something I love with the one I love.
I look over at her, her eyes gleaming from the light of the fire.
“(Y/N)?” I ask as I grab her hand.
“Yeah?” She turns to face me.
“I-I think…” I start.
“Just say it,” she smiles.
“I love you.” I blurt out.
She looks surprised for a second. But then she grins.
“I love you too.”
“This was my mom’s,” he mutters. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you marry me?”