beyondbluess

[beyondbluess]

DALLAS COMING TO SOC READERS HOUSE AFTER A RUMBLE AND OPENING UP TO HER FOR THE FIRST TIME ABOUT HIS PAST

Scary? My God, You're Devine!

an: This trope has been done a million times, and I eat it up every single time. Time has come for me to take my wack at it.

w: mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of DV, swearing, slightly ooc Dallas? Fem!reader, not fully proof-read

Word count: ~2,600

Rain falls outside your window. It patters against your roof and batters your window. You watch out your window as the trees are berated by the wind. Sitting on your vanity chair, you nervously wait for a certain blonde boy to appear at your window. You know he'll look like hell, and you've been mentally preparing yourself for the sight ever since you found out that there was going to be a rumble. Of course you were anything but thrilled when he told you about it. You don't want him fighting anymore than he already does, and you don't want him fighting people you knew. Family friends, your friends' boyfriends, neighbors, soc boys you knew, some you actually liked. You didn't want them and the greaser boys you loved fighting. But it's not like there was much you could do.

So, now you're sitting in your white-walled room, staring at the window with a towel in your lap, anxiously waiting for Dallas Winston. Waiting to patch him up and try not to scold him, waiting to hear news about the rest of the boys.

You're at your feet before he can knock. You rush over to the window as soon as his figure appears. You quickly open it and let him climb in. You gently touch his arm when he groans as his feet land on the ground. His mean face has blood down one side and more crusted under his nose and down to his chin. The rain had washed away some of the gore and dirt, but he still looked like hell, like you'd expected. The rain couldn't wash way the bruise forming around his eye or the gash by his eyebrow. You knew that he was getting mud on your carpet, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment.

"Hey, doll." Dallas smirks at you as he takes off his leather jacket. That cocky smirk tells you that they won. He discards his jacket on the ground.

"Did you boys win?" You ask as you hand him the towel you had ready for him.

His smirk only widens. "'Course we did, doll. Damn socs didn't stand a chance. 'Chased 'em right outta our territory." He wiped his face with the towel then rubbed it over his soaking wet hair.

You'd tell him fighting was no good if he didn't look so proud, but you don't feel like ruining his good mood right now. "How are the other boys? Alright?" You ask instead.

Dallas nods. You watch in distress as blood continues to drip from the gash by his eyebrow. "Yeah, they're alright. All beat pretty good though." He sits down on the edge of your bed. You quickly urge him off.

"Dally! You're getting mud on my comforter! Golly, how'd you even get so dirty?" You touch his arm as he stands up, and notice how numerous bruises litter it.

"You get thrown 'round in rumbles, sweetheart. I'm tired, I can't sit?" He asks, his voice unusually soft.

You sigh. "Let me clean you up first." You say tenderly as you take his hands in yours. His knuckles are raw- red and bleeding, and of course have dirt in the scrapes. You can't help but stare at them sadly. Dallas surprisingly lets you. This isn't the first time you've had to patch him up after a fight, but it's the first time he hasn't acted embarrassed about his injuries. You look back up at his face and he quickly masks his hurt expression with a cold, tough one. You notice, you always do.

You lead your battered boy to your bathroom. He sits on the toilet lid as you get out your small first aid kit, the one you got after the first time he showed up to your house after a fight. You glance over at Dallas as you open it. He's staring off into space, and his eyes hurt your heart. He looks so defeated for someone who just won a rumble. You want to ask, but the chances of Dallas actually telling you what's going on in his head are damn near zero. The towel you had handed him was still in his lap, and his was rubbing the material between his index finger and his thumb. He suddenly notices you looking at him, and he sets his face again and sits up a touch straighter. You look back at the first aid kit in front of you, then you grab a washcloth and wet it.

Gently, you clean off his face. Standing between his legs, you move the damp washcloth over his skin, wiping off the dirt and blood. Dallas doesn't take his eyes off of you.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" He claimed suddenly.

You smile, amused. "Oh, be quiet."

"I'm serious." He starts and your smile fades. You halt your movements. "You're a good girl, and I just.. I just beat up your friends- rich guys that could treat you how you deserve."

You shake your head. "Don't talk like that." You say softly. He knows you hate when he says stuff about not being good enough for you, or about how a soc boy could treat you better. No matter how many times you tell him that you want him and only him, he still mentions it now and then.

He looks into your eyes for a beat longer, then he looks away and mumbles, "Whatever, man."

You sigh and put down the dirtied washcloth. Luckily, the wound by his brow had stopped bleeding, so you were hoping that that meant he wouldn't need stitches. You get out a butterfly bandaid anyway, to hold it together better. Then you smooth his damp hair and press a kiss against his cheek. He looks at you again.

"Do you want ice for your eye, love?" You gently move your thumb over the edge of the purple mark.

He winces and you pull your thumb away, mumbling an apology. "No." He says.

"Okay." You let go of his cheek then use the washcloth again to wipe off his knuckles.

You're so gentle with him, it makes his heart swell and his stomach churn at the same time. You're sickeningly sweet. He knows that he doesn't deserve you.

"You're awfully quiet." You observe as you bandage his hand. "You don't feel like celebrating?"

Dallas shrugs. "Don't know. Jus' hurry up, man."

"Well, I'm pretty much done. Do you want to rinse off in the shower real quick?"

"Depends, you gonna join me?" He finally smirks again and leans in closer to you.

You smile sheepishly. "No, I have to get a new comforter and get you something to sleep in."

Dallas sighs and pushes his wet hair back, out of his face. "Fine, man, whatever."

You step back as he stands up and peels off his shirt. "Stop calling me 'man', I'm your girl."

Dallas only glances at you before taking off his jeans. "Okay. Sure you don't want to join me?" He asks again. Even in his broken state, he can't help himself.

"I'm sure." You turn on the shower as he steps out of his jeans.

-

Dallas sits on the edge off your bed in a pair of his boxers that he'd left at your house some nights ago. You enter your bedroom and Dallas's head snaps up in your direction.

"I got you water, because I know you don't drink enough of it." You tell him as you close your bedroom door. You walk over and hand him a glass. He mutters a thanks before bringing it to his lips. You sit next to him and cross your legs. You feel almost awkward, he has a strange energy about him and it's rubbing off on you.

He downs the water almost as quickly as a man stranded in the desert, then hands you back the glass. You set it on your nightstand, next to your framed picture of you and him. Dallas watches your movements and his eyes land on the picture. He'd seen in before of course, but he couldn't tare his eyes away from it. The gold pattern surrounding him struck him as ridiculous, contradicting. The delicate gold matched you perfectly, your frilly dress, expensive jewelry, and perfectly done hair suited the frame; but the boy next to you in the photo was the exact juxtaposition. He almost laughed.

You notice his stare and follow his gaze to the photo. A smile paints your face as you comment, "Aren't we cute?"

He huffs a laugh. "Cute? I wouldn't call us cute, doll."

You look over at him and frown. "What'd you call us then?"

He shakes his head slightly and looks around your room, his eyes landing on your jewelry box. "Unusual."

"Well, I think we're cute." You say, forcing a smile onto your face to try to lift his melancholy mood, but he doesn't look at you.

Dallas looks at the ground. "What were you doing when you were ten?" He asks glumly.

You furrow your eyebrows at the random question. "When I was ten? Uh, well, a lot of things. That's a broad question." You pause to think, then you start again, "I was hanging out with my friends, drawing a bunch, trying to figure myself out, reading some of my first actual chapter books..."

Dallas hums. "I was getting into gang fights, stealing, running from cops, and getting thrown in jail." He states with a bitterness in his voice.

You couldn't think of what to say. You'd known that Dallas hadn't had a good life, especially back in New York, but hearing him talk about it was new, uncharted territory.

He takes notice of your silence and finally looks at you. "That scare you, doll?" He questions. "Cause it should."

You shake your head. "No, of course not."

He scoffs. "Why are you so damn stubborn? I was in gangs before my voice got deep. I hang around some of the worst guys out there." He looks away again. "I saw things I'll never forget. I hurt people. All while you were- what? Being a damn kid? Being a perfect little angel?"

"I'm sorry." Your voice comes out weaker-sounding than intended.

"For what, doll? Being so perfect that it pisses me off?"

"I'm sorry that you didn't get to be a kid."

Dallas stares at you silently, and his masks falters slightly. "I was a kid." He speaks finally. "Just a bad one."

"Kids don't misbehave for no reason. Dogs aren't born with their teeth bared." You reach for his hand as you move closer to him, your leg now touching his.

"I ain't a dog." He lets you intertwine your fingers with his, and he watches as you squeeze his hand.

"You act like one sometimes." You joke light-heartedly.

A small smile creeps onto his face. A science falls over the two of you. He holds you hand tighter and doesn't take his eyes off it. The doubt and insecurity still thrash around in his mind. His smile finds and he returns to his self-deprecation.

"I knew a guy back in New York. He was awful. Big, scary, crude, mean, a piece of shit. I worshipped the guy. He didn't care about anything or anyone, and I wanted to be just like him." Dallas looks up the ceiling and sighs, then shifts his gaze to the floor, but not without a glance at you. Then he continues, "This guy started going with this preppy broad. I don't know how he got her- like I don't know how I bagged you- but she seemed to like him a lot. She was around a lot for a few months, she was nice enough, real good looking too. It was like we were watching the life get sucked outta her. He beat her, we all knew. I think I knew that that was wrong, but no one said anything about it. Then she got knocked up, and he skipped town." He sighs and looks over at you.

"God, that's awful." You say. "Poor thing."

"Yeah... What if I ruin you like that?" His voice is weak and he sounds almost scared.

"Ruin me?" You repeat bewilderedly.

He nods and looks down at your hand intertwined with his.

"Dallas," You gently touch his cheek, careful to avoid touching and bruised or sore spots. You turn his head to face you and his worried look breaks your heart. His beaten look was only adding to your heartbreak, it was as if his brokenness and spread to his exterior. He wasn't even attempting to hide the hurt he was feeling, he might as well have been hold out his war-torn heart to you, and been telling you how he was worried he'd infect you too.

"You aren't like that." You start. "You'd never hurt me."

"I have. I yell at you and get upset and treat you like shit. I'm no better than that asshole." He pulls away from your hand on his cheek.

"You are better than him, don't give me that. Yeah, we argue, but all couples do. We make up. And you don't treat me like shit, Dally. I'm happy. You make me happy. God, why would you ever think that?"

"It's hard not to think of them every time I'm around you, doll. It's hard not to realize I'm just like him."

"Do I seem like that poor girl to you? Is the light leaving my eyes?" You ask more sternly than you had meant to. It was bothering you the way Dallas was talking. It was bothering you the way he was speaking, how he perceived himself so poorly.

He sighs. "No, but... maybe you'll be like her in the future."

"I know my worth, Dal. You start treating me like shit, and I'm leaving. But you don't, and I don't think you ever will. You're not the world's best boyfriend by any means, but you make me feel loved and appreciated and happy and all that good stuff."

He seems to ponder for a moment, his eyes not leaving yours. The bruise around his eye was even more prominent now. "Ten year old me would start buggin' if he saw who I was dating."

You smile. "I think Dallas from any time before we got together would be bugging if he saw who you were dating."

Dallas cracks a smile, finally returning on. "I guess that's true."

You squeeze his hand then let go so you can get up. You can lift the covers and get under them. Once cozy, you look at Dallas, who's already looking at you.

"Come 'ere." You raise the comforter so he can climb in next to you. He does, but instead of next to you, he lays on top of you. He buries his face in the side of your neck and nuzzles against your skin as his hands slide under you. He hugs you tightly as he breaths you in.

Your arms warp around him in return and one of your hands finds his hair and gingerly strokes it. "So, the rumble brought back some old memories and coming here made it worse?"

"I guess. Rumbles always remind me of the gang fights I was in. That combined with your white picket fence and.. just everything about you, made me realize how bad I am for you." He mumbles against the skin of your neck.

"You ain't bad for me." You counter.

"Bad compared to you. Better?"

"Yes."

He sighs as your warmth soothes him. Your gentle touch, your velvety voice, your sweet scent was like heaven to him. "I don't think I'll ever understand how I managed to snag a dove like you, but I'm damn lucky I did."

You smile as you continue to card your fingers through his hair. "I love you, Dally, and I'm proud of you for opening up a bit."

"Yeah, whatever. I love you too." He presses a kiss into the side of your neck, then he closes his eyes as starts to let sleep over take him.

"Good night, baby." You whisper.

"Night, doll." He whispers back.

an: this was a wild ride. This took so terribly long and is my longest fic yet! I don't know where I was taking this, but we got somewhere!

[beyondbluess]

writers block again :(

[beyondbluess]

had plans on finishing a fic tonight but i couldn’t lock in :/

[beyondbluess]

the concept of dallas being a secret loverboy <3

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that irked the FUCK outta me. i hate #that app so much

[beyondbluess]

amar introduces… the apocalypse au! ˎˊ˗

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the world had gone mad seemingly overnight. one day, dallas had been getting drunk out of his mind at buck’s. the day after, he was clubbing the shit out of a zombie that had tried to take a bite out of ponyboy.

the socs, as always, had gotten the easy break. after all, with gated neighborhoods, easy access to weaponry, and half of your neighbors being doctors, it was easy. that was, until the infected had mobbed their way into the neighborhood. tulsa had essentially become a ghost town afterwards.

the east side hadn’t been off much better, with the children and elderly getting infected quick. dallas and the rest of the gang acted fast, escaping to the old church in windrixville that dallas had told them about.

the church had quickly become their work-in-progress safe haven, where the curtis gang lived alongside the three shepard siblings. during the day, the boys would make supply runs to help build back up the old church. by night, they all slept snuggled up together underneath the stars.

dallas and tim had first met you in the hardware store. they saw you from the entrance, sitting up on the shelf with a small hoard of zombies beneath you.

you had eyes glossy and full of tears, white lacy socks peeking out from underneath your cowboy boots, and a dagger weakly clutched in your hands.

the boys were quick to take them out, dallas with his baseball bat and tim with a pistol he kept tucked in the waistband of his jeans. once the two of them had finished, dallas gave you a hand to help you down. what he didn’t expect, was for you to practically jump in his arms and gush about how grateful you were to him.

dallas dismissed it by saying he only did it to save his own skin, but something about how you looked in your overalls and your sweet southern tang stuck with him.

after getting to chatting, tim and him learned about how you had been all by yourself for the last few weeks, trying your best to stay alive against the infected throughout the dead town.

despite the fact you weren’t very competent at defending yourself, dallas and tim felt like they couldn’t just abandon you. whether it was because angela needed another girl around or because dallas thought you were cute can be debated. regardless, tim and dallas scooped you up into the back of the truck where they took you back to windrixville.

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✮⋆˙ taglist - @diorgirl444, @r0seb100d, @johnnycadesslut, @twobitsblade, @browneyebby / @isasweetie, @glxsyymads, @mystiqueonfleek007, @beyondbluess, @johnnycadesmuse, @planetscobell, @kahkie, @rhea-is-bored-again, @callme-holly! (send an ask or dm to be added! <3)

[beyondbluess]

yeah i cannot for the life of me write smut. bye

[beyondbluess]

whenever in doubt, write at three in the morning!

[beyondbluess]

hiiiii ^^

hello babes! <3

[beyondbluess]

upset rn so im scrolling on here :/

[beyondbluess]

i actually can’t stand the blue anymore. im redoing my theme later

[beyondbluess]

so pretty

dallas winston x fem! reader

summary: dallas relectantly lets you paint his nails. warnings: fluff, suggestive towards the end. <3 author's note: literally wrote this at like,, three in the morning. for whatever reason i tend to be at my best whenever i'm sleep deprived so here you go!

“Dally, hold still,” you fussed, applying yet another coat of black nail polish to his fingers. After countless minutes of begging and a sad excuse of puppy dog eyes, Dallas finally agreed to let you paint his nails, but that doesn’t mean he still couldn’t give you trouble for it. You had wanted to use pink, or perhaps purple—but he wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.

“Hurry up, man,” Dallas grumbled, gently lifting his hand to give you more space to work, a soft tint of pink appearing on his cheeks from embarrassment.

You finished applying the final coat, reaching over for the bottle on the table to screw the lid back on, getting up from your chair to grab the jewelry box that was placed on your vanity. Dallas saw this immediately. 

“Hell no—“

“Dal, come on!”

You sat back down, gently placing the jewelry box on the table beside you, opening it to go through the many necklaces and bracelets that you saved for special occasions such as this. You hear Dallas mumble something inaudible. A tinge of guilt formed in your chest.

“Dallas,” you called out quietly, making him look up. You put down the bracelets that you’ve chosen from the jewelry box, gently placing your hand on his cheek. “Thank you for letting me do this—I know this was probably uncomfortable to do.”

“Whatever, man,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. A slight smirk appeared on his face, but that soon shifted into a tiny smile. “You’re lucky ya cute, doll.”

“Oh, please,” you smiled, placing a quick, but affectionate kiss on his lips. “You love me.” He didn’t deny it either. 

You held up two bracelets for Dallas to choose from, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you watched his eyes bounce between each option.

“This one,” he mutters, pointing at the silver bracelet that has tiny star charms dangling from it. You nodded, placing the bracelet around his arm, connecting the clasp to the end of the chain. 

“You look sooo pretty, Dally,” you teased, moving to sit on his lap. Dallas playfully rolled his eyes before leaning in to kiss your lips, his hands going to your waist. 

“You done tryin’ to doll me up, sweetheart?” He asks, his eyes trailing down to your soft lips before gazing back up at you, his hand slowly moving under your shirt. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed, trailing gentle kisses down his neck before wrapping your arms around him. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

That was all Dallas needed to hear before scooping you up into his strong arms, carrying you to bed—your soft giggles bouncing off the walls. Moments like this with Dallas were rare, but god, were they always worth it. 

[beyondbluess]

the way that i literally have a series planned but ive yet to actually start on the first part

[beyondbluess]

hate when people say that older matt is ugly 💀💀 like he absolutely isn’t, that man is STILL fine

[beyondbluess]

guitarist! dallas winston x lead vocalist! reader headcanons

guitarist! dallas winston x lead vocalist! reader

warnings: suggestive, but not too much. its mainly silly stuff here. might be a bit inaccurate as well? author's note: okay, i think this is by far my favorite au i've posted about. i feel like i could do more with this so feel free to send requests! also got lazy towards the end, so sorry! sorry for the lack of fics as well!

— let’s be honest, you didn’t even like dallas at first but your band needed a new guitarist,, like yesterday. plus, he was good. you’ll give him that. 

— was never on time for practice and that pissed you and your band members off to no end! you had no issues expressing that either, but he was always sooo unbothered and that irked you even more 

— trust and believe he enjoys pissing you off! like unplugging your mic and claiming that it was an accident. sometimes he would even take your mic and mock your singing voice. definitely considered killing him several times 

— would sometimes bicker with each other during practice :/ its either him commenting how your voice is off key or you muttering how his guitar off tune. this would lead to arguments,, which ended up with either of you guys walking out (mostly dallas)

— manager definitely threatened to kick you guys out if you couldn’t at least be semi-cordial. the just mere thought of having to get along with him disgusted you, but you still did it regardless 

— okay so you guys learned to be semi friendly to each other publicly, but that doesn’t even you still couldn’t glare at him whenever he entered the room (he definitely did the same) 

— always, ALWAYS found your eyes meeting his during your gigs!! it only lasted a few seconds but it was enough to leave your heart pounding every time. you were almost certain he felt it too, considering he would avert his gaze before you did 

— neither of you were willing to admit but you guys sounded great together and everybody else would agree too

— neither of you spoke about it though,, like what could have even say to that?? eventually the ‘cordial’ act became something genuine (at least a bit) 

everyone packed up for the night, pleased with how band practice went. but not you; feeling as if there’s room for improvements—it was as if something was missing. you didn’t say that though, far too hungry and exhausted to argue.  you had opened the practice room door to grab your bag when you saw dallas sitting on the worn leather stool adjusting the tuning pegs of his guitar. it surprised you, considering that he was always one of the first members to leave straight after practice.  “hey,” you greeted quietly, taking a seat in the stool in front of him, quietly humming along with the tune that he was playing from his guitar. “what are you still doing here?” dallas shrugs, not bothering to look up from the strings. “felt somethin’ was off earlier. thought it would do me some good to still practice.” you blinked at this, feeling a little relieved that you weren’t the only one that was sensing the odd energy earlier.  “so glad i’m not the only one who noticed that,” you chuckled softly, getting up from the stool to grab the microphone cord to plug it back into the speaker. “wanted to say somethin’ earlier, but we already heard enough of dave’s mouth this week.” dallas finally looked up at this, his brown eyes looking up at you in intrigue. “yeah?” “yeah,” you echoed, turning on the speaker beside you before shifting your attention back towards dallas, a small smirk gracing your lips. “whaddya say, dally? take twenty?” dallas couldn’t help but smirk at the nickname.

— safe to say he started to show up to practice on time after this 

— you guys started to practice alone together in secret 

— everyone thought it was weird how you guys were basically getting along now. Well, you guys doing more than just getting along. Your eyes would remain on his much longer than necessary during your late night gigs  

— the band eventually picked up a lot of traction around the city and eventually you guys moved on to performing on actual stages (would hold at least 300 seats, which was good)

— on one night in particular, you guys earned a lot of money and decided to celebrate by going to the bar (which may or may not ended up with you and dallas hooking up in your studio apartment)

— you guys are definitely keeping your situationship a secret (especially considering that there’s a strict no dating rule)

— you guys eventually moved onto practicing at your apartment, which almost always led to clothes being discarded on the floor

— overall, you aren’t sure what your relationship with dallas would entail considering the circumstances, but it was safe to say that you were having fun regardless

[beyondbluess]

guitarist! dallas winston x lead vocalist! reader 🎸🎤

[beyondbluess]

it’s like i forgot how to write omg???