#i heart ponyboy

[ambrozjas]

Could you do anything where you prompt pony to quit smoking, maybe by telling him you don’t like smokers or anything like that? Ty!

spearmint gum ꨄ︎

ponyboy curtis x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

this was initially gonna be like a tiny drabble but ended up being a whole thing soooo either way.. hope you enjoy 💕 :)

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of ponyboy smoking and being a heavy smoker, mentions of a guy cheating on his girlfriend, refers to the reader as the barbie to pony’s ken, reader has fem friends, pony being kinda obsessive?? and also eavesdropping on you and your friends’ chisme

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

1152 words, 6321 characters

. ˚◞�� ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

the hall was cluttered with students as they rushed past pony to get to their next class, bumping into him and practically knocking him over with his smaller frame.

through the midst of children, ponyboy spotted your familiar head of hair as you walked with your friends to class.

seeing you was pony’s highlight of the day, you were like the barbie to his ken. even just a glance in his direction could make him swoon. he never had the balls to talk to you—so he settled with admiring from afar.

once ponyboy had made it into class, after almost being suffocated and having to force his way through the plethora of kids in the cramped halls, his eyes immediately darted around the room, looking for you.

and there you were.

pony wondered if you were a dream come true. he patted himself on the back in whatever past lives he’s lived to get an angel like you, and he thanked whoever put you on this earth as it allowed it endless opportunities. especially with the fact that you’re in his class not even five feet away from him.

so what if it was cheesy? at least it was true to pony.

there was a short intermission before the ending bell rang, the bell that prompted everybody to take a seat to avoid demerits for tardiness.

you were at your desk, your friends circling you. pony wondered what you guys talked about that you’d be laughing so much, but he didn’t mind, because he got to see that smile of yours.

it was like a fresh breath of air or a warm blanket that smelled of floral detergent. your smile was so contagious that it almost made pony want to smile as well, forcing him to look away before he’s caught with the embarrassing redness of his cheeks.

he looked up at the blackboard, reading a set of instructions that his teacher had set up while she was away. his eyes scanned the neat chalky white letters that faded the more they shifted to the right, the second direction to grab a textbook.

pony’s eyes trailed off to the left, where you stood right in front of the tiny corner which held the textbooks, the old worn down shelf practically about to collapse with the weight of them.

he took a deep breath, puffing his chest out a little as he held his inhale before swiftly exhaling. it was like a comical white cloud of air flew past his mouth as he sighed, like those characters on tv who made it through near death experiences.

ponyboy made his way over to the wooden shelf, striding at first in an attempt to seem unbothered. why should he this nervous around you? it’s just a simple task, grab a textbook and bring it back to your table.

c’mon pony, he told himself.

the walk there felt agonizingly long, leaving him with enough time to question his every move. did he always breathe like this? oh gosh, did he breathe loud? was he walking funny? was he sweating?

but then suddenly, a sweet ripple of laughter danced its way out your throat and left your lips, your head slightly tilting back as the euphoric sound reached pony’s ears. and boy, did all pony’s worries melt away.

once he had reached the books, he grabbed two for him and his desk partner. however, pony couldn’t help but perk up at the sound of you and your friends whispering. he didn’t mean to eavesdrop, he swears. but once he heard a couple of boys’ name, it’s like his ears enlarged along with his nosiness.

“what about,” your friend said as she dragged out the ‘t’ while she thought, “jamie? he’s pretty good lookin’. has a nice corvair, too.” she said with raised eyebrows to which you rolled your eyes.

“jamie’s rank, all he does is cheat, steal, and have you ever smelled him? he reeks of booze.”

pony noticed how your friends looked at you as if you were crazy. but to be fair, jamie brockton did stink. pony’s locker was right next to his, and he practically gagged every time he got a whiff of him with how strong the scent of alcohol and sweat was. pony wondered if he ever wore deodorant.

“samuel’s pretty cute, though.” your other friend pointedly nodded her head in the other boy’s direction while yours—and pony’s—eyes followed her gaze, falling on a husky guy with sandy brown hair and a cigarette arrogantly hanging out of his mouth.

“he’s a smoker.”

“he’s cute.”

“i’m not into smokers, lorraine.” you stated and pony started thinking. slowly, the worries started sleeping into the crooks of his brain again. pony smoked more heavily than any of his brothers despite only being fourteen. he wondered. did he smell like cigarettes?

then another thought came into mind.

how long had he been standing here? textbooks clutched in his arms as he eavesdropped on you and your friends. it was weird. so awkwardly, ponyboy slinked away back to his desk and slumped in his seat as his foot tapped against the floor, creating ‘clack!’ sounds as his sneakers connected with the tile.

he pondered as he sat in his seat, before turning behind him as his eyes met the girls gossiping behind him too.

“y’got any gum on you?” he sheepishly asked, before the girl shot him a quick smile and reached inside her backpack.

score, pony thought as she handed him a stick of gum, neatly foiled in silver paper. he gave her a quiet ‘thanks’ as he turned around and popped the spearmint stick into his mouth, crumpling the foil and stuffing it into his pocket once the bell rang.

his partner took a break from sucking face with his girlfriend rushed to his seat, disheveled and red faces. but pony spared him no mind, only focused on the gum that exploded its minty flavor within his mouth. ponyboy narrowed his eyes as it burned his tongue and throat, but quickly reveled in the feeling of having a clean minty fresh inhale. and it’d be worth it in the long run, you know? maybe he’d actually have a shot with you.

pony didn’t throw that gum out until he got home, considering it was sixth period when that new information was unlocked. he was concentrated with chewing the gum, his mind replaying your words back in his head.

“i’m not into smokers, lorraine.”

you sounded annoyed at the fact that every time you were in class with them, they tried to play cupid with every single guy that walked through the door. grossly, even mr. jefferson, the assistant principal.

pony read somewhere that it takes twenty-one days to break a habit, and he would gladly spend twenty-one days with sticks of gum if it meant he had a shot with you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ whys pony such a cutie patootie tho

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[skyf0ckz]

I love in the movie when dally gives pony the letter and tells him it's from the president and pony's just like "no way" but he 100% was about to believe it.

[alaskan-wallflower]

ponyboy definitely sneaks into darry’s room when he has nightmares, especially post book because the nightmares slowly dissolve from his parents dying to darry and soda dying and during those nightmares pony just really needs darry, so he’ll sneak into darry’s room and gently tug the pillow out of darry’s arms (darry’s a sleep cuddler argue with the wall) and pony will just nestle his way into darry’s arms and wraps himself around darry and just presses his head against his chest and falls asleep to darry’s heartbeat and other internal sounds because he needs to know his big brother is alive and okay

(bonus but darry always wakes up every time when pony does this but he never says anything, half for pony’s dignity and half because he’s so sleepy he doesn’t even register it-but some nights it’s real rough and pony starts panicking and he just sits up like “woah woah woah there, ponybaby-what’s wrong? you gotta talk to me, kiddo, i’m here…” and he NEVER gets mad at pony. ever. no matter how little sleep he gets. especially post book)

[hellonearthtoday]

"AIN'T NO PERSONAL THING,"

redraw if you know you know👅

[justicefortulsa]

hes three apples tall

[that-one-english-nerd]

they mean so much to me, your honor.

[curtisberzattos]

no you don't understand. listen to me. darry's dad was his best friend (past tense). paul holden was his best friend (past tense). he doesn't HAVE anyone anymore. he doesn't HAVE a steve or a johnny. it's just him and his two little brothers who are infinitely closer to each other than they ever will be to him.

[wassupmygays]

every day i think about a post i saw on here one time that talks about ponyboy being queer and his future grappling that. and it alludes to sodapop being involved in the stonewall riots and i fear i will never ever stop thinking about that

[redfish-blu]

This might be the only time I ever draw these versions of pb&j so I thought I might as well make it count.

[kaytheday]

Dog Tags and Damnation

Soda steps through the door as quietly as he can. Unwilling to wake the boy on the couch. Ponyboy was so exhausted that he couldn’t even manage to make it upstairs so he’d simply dropped onto the couch, practically guaranteed to wake up tomorrow with a killer hangover. He twists over in sleep, groaning a little and revealing a silver chain that slips out of his shirt to pool on the cushion below him. 

Soda’s dog tags. 

Bile comes up his throat and tickles his taste buds as he sways. He puts a hand on the wall to avoid falling.

He didn’t take those tags off for nearly a year. He couldn’t. If he was killed they would need those same dog tags to identify his body. Those tags would be the one to tell his brothers he was never coming home. Those same tags that watched him defile his parents' memory of the sweet little boy they had raised. Those same tags that hung around his neck as he did horrendous things, things that he would never ever breathe a word of to his brothers. Even if it killed him. 

Those same tags that he had hurled at Ponyboy nearly five days ago out of anger and frustration. Why couldn’t Ponyboy just leave him alone about this? Growing up, Soda always knew when to push Pony or when to back off, why couldn’t Ponyboy just return the favor? 

Both Darry and Ponyboy knew he had come back different. Darry had noticed but never said anything about it, but Ponyboy had taken a crack at it a couple days ago. Accusing him of using drugs to escape himself or some bullshit like that. It was those damn psychology courses he was taking at his fancy university. 

Then Soda had just laughed at him. Trying to crack a joke and say he should become a psychologist instead of a writer. Ponyboy had only gotten more upset, the tips of his ears going red as he tried again to push the issue, all while Soda deflected. Instead jerking past him to grab the chocolate milk out of the fridge, taking a swig straight from the carton. He had just finished a shitty day of work, he didn’t want to have a conversation about how shitty he was at being a brother too. 

Obviously frustrated, Ponyboy trudged on, trying a different tactic than the blatant observation of how Soda was killing himself with drugs. 

“You can talk to me, you know Soda? About anything, you’ve always been able to talk to me, even when we were kids You can still talk to me, now isn’t any different.” Soda wanted to rip out his hair and scream and then maybe beat someone half to death because it was different. Of course it was different. 

Ponyboy was different from Soda. He was good. Despite everything that had happened in his life, Ponyboy still found time to look at the sunset and read books and even write poetry. Despite everything, Ponyboy was still the same smart, talented, sensitive kid he’d been all his life. Losing their parents hadn't changed that, losing their buddies hadn’t changed that, and Soda was sure that even if Ponyboy had to complete a tour in Vietnam, he’d still come out the same poetry-writing, sunset-watching kid he’d always been. And he would continue to be like that, no matter what happened. 

So no, it was different. It was completely different. 

Soda was different. Anytime something terrible had happened in their lives, Soda had changed. A piece of him was chipped away and a mottled scar was left in its place. His parents death made him into the family bawl baby. His buddies' death had made him into a manipulating bastard with a colder outside shell. His tour in Vietnam had made him into a lot of things. It had made him into a broken shattered mess of himself, unable to find the pieces of his personality scattered on the ground. But the biggest and ugliest thing it had made him into was a killer. 

So Soda had tried to become some semblance of the person he was before this ugly stain on his life. He tried to say it kindly, he really did. 

“Yes it is Ponyboy.” He started gently. “I thought you were smart with all those fancy college classes you’re takin’ but you can’t seem to see that everything is different now.” He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’m going to bed.” He decided with finality, having no desire to finish this conversation. Ponyboy gave a loud choked noise. 

“I don’t need those college classes to tell me something is wrong with my brother!” Pony shot back. “Why can’t you just tell us! Why didn’t you talk to me! Why didn’t you tell me you got shot!?” The last question comes out as a desperate hysterical scream. Pony is crying, but he’s trying so hard not to. Soda turned sharply from his spot on the stairs. 

“How’d you find that out?” He said quietly, almost dangerously. 

“I know when something is wrong with my brother Soda.” Ponyboy says simply before relenting the rest of the details. “I got your medical records pulled from the draft office. The officer there told me.” Before Soda can register what he is doing he is down the stairs eye to eye with Pony in some sort of stand off. 

“You had no right to do that you little son of a bitch!” Ponyboy doesn’t rise to the bait, insteading squaring his shoulders like he was expecting this sort of reaction. 

“Why didn’t you tell us Soda? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you. I still want to help you.” Pony asks, grabbing weakly at Soda’s wrist. Instead Soda jerks away, shoving his brother a little as he bites out a curse. 

“You couldn’t have done shit!” He snarls. 

“Is this what the drugs are for?” Pony asks. 

Soda doesn’t answer, instead biting out another curse while Pony keeps trying. They yell back and forth at each other for a while before Pony brings up their parents. How they wouldn’t have wanted their little war hero turning to pot and heroin and god knows what else. Soda blanches, his fists faltering a little bit. Bringing up their parents was a low blow. Finally Soda does the only thing he can think of. He rips off his dog tags that had been hanging around his neck. 

“If you and mom and dad up there think I’m such a war hero then you can wear them!” He hurls the dog tags at Ponyboy and before he can see the aftermath, he’s trudging outside to the car and storming off. 

Now he’s still standing at the door. His eyes on Ponyboy's ungreased hair, flopping a little over closed eyes. This fight was five days ago, they had since made up. Soda didn’t know he was actually going to wear those dog tags. 

The same ones he’d rubbed while shooting at kids younger than Ponyboy. The same ones he stared at during the long rainy nights, nothing in his stomach, thinking of his middle name. Patrick, like his grandfather. His grandfather was buried at home. The same home he longed to be. 

Those dog tags had been with him through so much pain and misery. They had sat on his chest while he watched unspeakable horrors unfold, stories of destruction, blood, violence, and death. He hadn’t realized what those dog tags meant to him until he watched them tangle around Ponyboy's neck. 

Because he was glad.

He was glad Ponyboy would never have dog tags of his own. He was so thankful that Ponyboy would never have dog tags sit on his chest as he witnessed destruction and death. And though he knew it would never change the kid, he was glad it didn’t have to happen nonetheless. He was glad Ponyboy could go on reading poetry and looking at sunsets and writing books instead of sitting in an early grave. Or worse, coming back like him. Soda was so glad that the dog tags around Ponyboy’s neck read Sodapop Patrick Curtis instead of Ponyboy Micheal Curtis.

A second submission for day 3 of @outsidersweek

[leeyacy]

6 y/old pony who beg soda and darry to give him a tuff haircut cuz he also wants to look as cool as his big bros.Soda insist on doing the cutting while darry guide him to see if its even.In the end ofc soda just have to mess it up cuz he was distracted (just soda's thing) and darry had to yell at him stop.I like to think pony would show off his new hair,all proud to the gang and darry,soda would give them a death stare if they dare to mock him HHSHSH i luv them sm

(some fluff cuz school's been giving me headache lately)

[ambrozjas]

Can you do a Ponyboy x Reader who has Americana coquette style please!!!

golden rays ꨄ︎

ponyboy curtis x americana coquette!reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes ᰔᩚ

skcksxkjssjw i didnt know how to describe the outfit that well but i literally love this style sm and didnt serve it justice :(

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

none except like one mention of your tongue?? but it’s licking smth off your lips so i don’t think that’s a warning

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

471 words, 2611 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

you sat on the bleachers closest to the track, your legs swinging in the small gap between the seats, the tulsa beat slightly burning your thighs due to the shorts you chose today.

you took the lollipop out of your mouth, licking your lips and collecting the flavor of cherries on your tongue. your eyes trained on pony as he ran on the track, doing 200 meter repeats.

you decided to surprise him with your company, partially because you wanted to support your boyfriend and also partially because you were just curious what track and field does for practice.

once he finished his drills and ran around a bit, he looked back to see if his coach was watching and sneaked up to you.

“hey!” ponyboy said breathlessly. “what’re you doin’ here?” his hand were on his hips and his chest heaved with heavy deep breath he took.

“jus’ came to see you.” you said, smiling at pony’s frazzled state. you rummaged through your bag, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to pony.

he let out a breathy laugh and muttered a small ‘thanks’ before taking a few swigs. his eyes took in your clothes, “so what are you doin’ here?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing at the fact that you didn’t answer his previous question.

“you complainin’ that i’m seeing my boyfriend at his practices?” you raised an eyebrow at him. ponyboy rolled his eyes at your insinuation, because he knew that you knew that he always loved when you came.

“y’look.. nice.” he said. the awkwardness of pony’s voice couldve fooled anyone, leading to the assumption that pony didn’t mean them. but you knew him well, you just knew that’s how your boyfriend was.

you looked down at your outfit. a red gingham tank top, jean shorts, and beat up red converse. even when it was so simple to you, it was immaculate in his eyes. you gave him a sheepish smile and a ‘thank you’ in return.

a small silence fell over you two as pony admired you. your sunglasses were lifted up onto the top of your head, held back by your ears. the sun had somehow cast such perfect rays across your face, giving you the perfect golden hue. your squinted eyes tinted warmer when the sun hit them just right. glory, could you get any prettier?

“ponyboy!” his coach called from across the track, aggressively pointing his finger and the ground in front of me, beckoning pony over.

“yeah pony, you’d better get goin’.” you said, laughing a bit when your boyfriend didn’t even bother to turn to look at his coach, annoyed for interrupting his thoughts. when he looked back at you, he gave you a small awkward wave. “i’ll.. see you later?”

“f’sure.” you said, waving back at him, flashing him a grin as you watched him jog up to his coach who yelled for him again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ skdkdookskw its currently 1:12am but i love this request sm so i had to do it

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[skyf0ckz]

Perhaps a drawing of Ponyboy Curtis? <3

[specific-dreamer]

remember a few weeks (maybe days) ago we was wondering if two-bit would have said his lil thing wishin it knew one of the others that died because they couldn’t get along without him? and how people were wondering if he would’ve said that regardless of who died?

well i come bearing news: he does.

at least movie two-bit. when ponyboy is telling cherry how darry hates him and then tells johnny he’s not wanted either, two-bit scolds him and tells “ ‘sides, we couldn’t get along without ya”

[dcbutinamrev]

Ponyboy would pull 24hr readathons. Even on school nights.

Ponyboy: *coming down for breakfast and living on four hrs of sleep*

Darry: Well maybe if you didn’t stay up all night reading—

Pony: *flips him off*

[justicefortulsa]

and he fucking ate that up