The Outsiders Imagines

Dally (7)

My 2k19 sucks. I hope ya'lls is WAY better. Love all of you entirely ~ lils

      The air was musty and filled with smoke, giving a new edge to your addiction with living rather than just being alive. You were at a soc bar, drunk on the atmosphere rather than the booze. You knew you weren't supposed to be there, you knew you'd get jumped the second someone noticed a greaser on their side of town, but perhaps that's what was so intoxicating about the night. The danger. 

       The night was creeping up on you quickly and you knew that if you didn't get going soon you'd find yourself meeting the worst socs of all, the ones that sneak out at night to hunt on those still awake, so you made your way back to the other side of town. The moonlight and lamp posts were the only things illuminating the road, but you preferred to stay somewhere well-lit, so you kept in plain sight. Soon enough, trouble dressed in a blue button-up found you. 

"Pretty greaser girl like you shouldn't be out so late on my side of town." His words came out in a serpent's twist. 

"I'm just trying to get to my side of town," you mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. 

"No, I gotta teach you little punks not to come over here. Period," he growled, squaring his shoulders and twisting the rings across his knuckles.

          You searched for a bottle, a pipe or even an old, thrown-out broom to defend yourself with, but of course nothing appeared. The closest thing you had to a switch was the heel of your boot and your teeth, if need be. You curled your fists. 

"Now you better just let me go, ya hear?" you toughened up, remembering who you were and where you were, even if the night's terrors were creeping up on you. 

"Let's see about that."

         You felt a hard blow to your stomach that made you topple to the ground. Before you could bounce back up a heavy weight was on your knees, locking you in place. He hovered above you, all of his weight on your knees, making your legs scream in pain. You were beginning to wish you had drank that night, maybe that would've made the pain numbing. Punch after punch, you could bruises and scabs left all across your  body, but none landed on your face. 

"Now pretty lady, I'm gonna have to apologize, ya ain't gonna be too pretty much longer," He sneered.

            You pushed back on  the road and spit as hard as you could. With fury now ablaze in his eyes he began to punch your face, first breaking your nose, then busting you lip. Before the next punch could hit the surface of your skin, the weight was yanked from your knees. Instinctively, you curled to a ball and pushed yourself away with your trembling legs. You stopped when you felt your back hit a hard, brick wall. 

            You could hear grunts of pain and fighting, but couldn't bring yourself to look and your legs were shaking and far too sore for you to start running. Your adrenaline from the night had quickly crashed and now the cruelness of it all settled on you. 

"Oh doll," you heard someone mutter. "You got yourself in trouble, didn't you?"

           You peered up to see the one and only Dallas Winston. A childhood best friend that quickly became a life-long family peered at you, his fists still curled so tight his knuckles were white. Sweat stuck to him like glue, so much that his hair curled and flipped naturally. 

"A bit," you muttered. 

               He pealed you off the street in his arms and you could feel him walking crookedly in an attempt to get home as soon as he could. Your bruises knocked up and down on the journey, to the point where you were groaning out in pain. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an attempt find balance. 

"I know, doll, I know," he assured, his voice soft and full of worry. 

           When you finally got to Bucks, you two shifted through the dancing drunks and up the stairs to his apartment. He sat you on the bed as he attempted to find things to patch you up with, of course only finding vodka, his attempt of an alcohol to clean your cuts, and gauze, which one of the Curtis boys would obviously sneak into his pile of a mess he calls an apartment. 

"I don't have anything fancy."

"It's good enough," you assured. "How did you know where I was?"

"Steve told me you went to a bar. When I didn't see you at Bucks I knew you were in trouble. So I just looked, I guess," he explained, his tongue on the tip of his lips as he focused. 

"Not like you," you grunted. When he applied to vodka to an open cut you quickly grabbed his other hand, squeezing hard in pain. 

"Its not like me to care?" He questioned, squeezing back gently. 

"Its not like you to worry."

"Well I worry about you," he adds on. He applies more vodka to the wounds, earning a groan from you. You lie your head on his chest, closing your eyes tight. "Focus on us, not the pain, doll." you nodded. 

"Don't worry about me," you mumble into his chest. 

"I worry about people I love." 

          You popped up, looking him the eyes to find whatever joke he was trying to play. However, what you saw was the deepest, icy eyes you had ever seen. They weren't Dally's usual cruel, hard eyes; no they were something new entirely. They were soft and gentle, full of compassion and locked back emotions. His face held all the seriousness and uneasiness of, what felt like, decades. 

         Your hands found his neck and you pulled him to you, your lips meeting his in a collision. At first there were sparks, and everything felt so foreign and unknown, and then all at once it felt as if you were born for this, as if this were your new home. 

"I love you too."

This took me forever to write holy cow. But comment what you think :) but tell me how your year is going? What are your goals? stuff like that :)