Reblogged cranberrv
coquettechalamet-deactivated202
I need him in ways that haven't been invented yet
Reblogged
sweet
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston sneaks into your bedroom
( a/n : this request was so cute! i want dal so badly HOLYY but anyway i hope u cuties enjoy )
the smoke of a candle danced through your room, coating it in a subtle smell of vanilla. the beatles was playing on vinyl, the record spinning endlessly. your vanity was covered in expensive makeup and one of the lightbulbs on the fairylights strung to your wall was flickering, slowly burning out. the new pink pyjamas that your mother bought you sat comfortably on your skin, and the pages of a book were flipping every few minutes.
you feel a sense of calm as you relax. it’s storming heavily out but you’re safe inside, your parents are asleep, and it’s just you and your little dog hanging out on your bed. you’re almost ready to blow out your candle and head to bed.
until you hear a knock on the window. you jump at the sudden sound disrupting your quiet time, but ignore it, thinking it’s just the wind. but then it happens again multiple times. your head is going to worst-case scenario. serial killer? kidnapper? you don’t know, but they’re impatient. so you hesitate, but peak through your lacy curtains. your lover, dallas winston, is staring at you.
you relax your shoulders and sigh, opening your window. “you scared me,” you whisper-yell so you don’t wake your parents. “how do you know where i live?”
“two-bit told me,” he tells you, talking in a normal voice. you elbow him, and he whispers as he continues. “i should be asking you why another man knows your address.”
“i babysit his sister, he drops her off all the time,” you whisper. you’re annoyed at him for showing up at midnight, and you’re about to force him out, until you notice how drenched with rain he is. “you’re all wet, dal,” you sigh. “are you cold?”
he shakes his head and shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “nah, i’m alright, sugar,”
you sit beside him and gently rest your hand on his cheek for a second, checking his temperature to see if he’s lying. “you’re freezing,” you have a worried look in your eye. he knows it all too well, you get nervous for him easily. “i’ll go get you a towel. do you want hot chocolate?”
“baby, i ain’t gonna die of hypothermia,” he assures. “i don’t need hot chocolate.”
“okay,” you give him a kiss on the cheek, then stand up and walk out of the room to grab a towel.
as you walk out of the room and into the hallway, careful not to step on creaky floorboards and wake your loved ones up, dallas sits up from the bed, and starts looking around your room. he’s never been in a rich kids house before. he picks up your expensive lipstick from your vanity, the one you wear everyday, the one that stains his face when you kiss him. he picks up your perfume — he loves your perfume. he loves how you smell, rosey and feminine. the smell of you makes him feel serene, relaxation washing over him. you have this way about you that makes him feel so safe.
after he’s done looking at your vanity and your shelves of books and crystals, he catches a glimpse of himself in the vanity. he doesn’t fit in with you or your room. his hair is wet, his jacket is dirty, his shoes aren’t shiny and he looks roughed up. but what’s funny is that you don’t even care. most socs care about their reputation, they would never want to be seen around a greaser, but you don’t care. he’s never experienced unconditonal love like yours before.
you walk back in with a pink towel and see him looking at himself. “doing your makeup, dal?” you tease, and he playfully rolls his eyes in response.
“very funny, sweetie,” he sits back down on your bed and takes off his jacket.
you sit down beside him and start drying him off, because frankly, you don’t trust him to do it himself. you brush his bare shoulders and you pat his hair with the towel. he’s watching you do it all, admiring your focus and your need to take care of him. he takes your free hand in his own calloused hand, gently rubbing it with his thumb. he has so much love and thankfulness towards you, he just doesn’t know how to express it. him taking your hand causes you to lose your focus and look up at him. his gaze doesn’t drift, a soft smile on his face as your cheeks blush.
“i think i’m dry enough,” he whispers.
you nod, and set the towel down. “okay,”
he takes a breath before speaking again. “can i stay over here tonight?”
you hesitate. you would love for him to stay over, you would love to talk to him all night and spend time with him, but it’s a school night. “my dad wakes me up during school days, dallas, he’ll see you,” you whisper. “and i don’t really want him to know that a boy snuck in my room.”
“what? why? you’ll get grounded or somethin’? c’mon, doll, nothing is gonna happen,” you shrug, and he continues. “i just want to spend some time with my girl, is that a crime?”
“he’ll be mad—“ you start, but he interrupts you with a compromise.
“i’ll be out at 6:00, your old man won’t see me. i gotta help buck clean up the bar, anyway,” he insists.
“..fine.” you agree, a little smile growing on your face at the excitement of dallas sleeping over.
he gives you a peck on the lips. you guys continue talking for a little bit longer, about how he didn’t know you babysat two-bit’s sister, and about how your teacher got you in trouble for chewing gum. and when your beatles record stops and you change it, he tells you he’s never listened to them before because they’re a “soc band.”
after a while, you two are lying down, still talking in hushed whispers. it’s mostly you talking, but he loves your voice, so he doesn’t mind. his arm is around you, pulling you into his side. you let out a small yawn as you start to get tired, and he gives you a gentle pat on your back.
“go to sleep, sugar,” he tells you.
you disagree with him. “i like talking to you,”
“yeah, well, you can do that all you want tomorrow, doll,” he takes a breath. “you wanna swing by buck’s tomorrow?”
“yeah,” you nod. “i’ll come after school.”
he rubs your back gently, and adjusts himself to get more comfortable.
“can you blow out the candle?” you ask him before he gets too tired.
he nods, and leans over to your bedside table to blow it out, then he turns off the lamp. his st. christopher necklace and the smoke are the only things you can see in the darkness hugging you two. the beatles continues to play in the background, and you two stay close together, a feeling of serenity in the air. dallas chooses to stay awake for a bit longer, watching you fall into a peaceful state as you sleep.
dallas isn’t the same person with you as he is when he’s in public. when he’s with his friends, or even walking around town, he has this intimidating aura that can scare anyone who has the mispleasure of walking past him. he has a dangerous reputation around tulsa, and he’s seen as a teenage dirtbag who’s been to jail more times than you can count.
but when he’s around you, he’s completely different. his walls are torn down the minute he smells your perfume. he lets you take care of him, he doesn’t wipe off the lipstick stains on your face, and he’s oh so sweet.
so as he watches the candle smoke dance through the room, he can come to one conclusion. he will never leave the safe place that he calls you.