【The Outsiders x Reader】(ADULT VERSIONS FROM THIS POINT OUT) 18++

Dallas Winston, You'll never not be mine

It was normal for guys to flirt with you at your job. They whistled, called you various names but when Dal was around... nobody said a thing to you. Even the guys who were giving you trouble earlier that day backed off when you told them who Dallas Winston was, and What he was to you. As for the girls... they gave you dirty looks and shit talked you as you served their food to them. Sometimes you'd spit in their milkshakes. Very childish, but hey.
You leant against the counter on your break, inhaling the scent of icy shakes and sizzling fries. You could smell the hamburger patties from across the parlor, and it wasn't a pleasant scent at all. You let your H/C hair down from the loose ponytail you had it in and fluffed it out a bit, untying your apron and tossing it to the back. You looked to see if you could find your boss anywhere, requesting if you could have time off but she hadn't been around. You felt eyes boring into your back, when you turned around. Dally. You smiled at him and waved a little, and he winked at you before returning to his conversation with Johnny. Johnny looked a lot better since you last saw him. That's good. You fumbled with the belt that squeezed your waist oh so tightly, running your fingertips over the worn down leather carefully. You didn't really know what to do with yourself. You weren't sure if it was your break or you were just let off. Your eyes scanned the room. Good! Only a couple greasers and a group of those nasty soc girls. You rolled your eyes and walked behind the counter. You decided to count your tips for the time being until your boss came around. You flipped the grimy quarters through your fingers, counting under your breath. Sorting the coins before bills was always a tradition. "$10 in quarters and..." you said quietly to yourself. And bills, flipping through the cash. "$46.65..." you smiled. It was a good day to be alive!! This was your highest record of tips yet.
"Make that $66.65" you looked up to see a Greaser holding a 20$ bill in front of you. It was resting between his index and middle fingers at the tip. He had soft brown eyes and a movie star smile. Kind of reminded you of Sodapop, but his hair wasn't blond. It was a Chestnut Brown, greased back when some stray hairs that fell over his eyes. "Oh, no! That's very sweet of you but that's too much. And I could never take that much from someone." You smiled, growing flustered at his offer. "Nah! I insist. My friends were giving you a hard time today and I wanted to apologize personally, sweetheart." He set the bill in front of you and smiled. "Besides, though they were teasing ya' I can't blame them for flirting with you, darlin'. You're probably the most gorgeous waitress I've seen in my years. I'm James Carter." You we're flattered by him so greatly, but you didn't want him to get hurt. You know how territorial Dally was. You'd seen it before. "I'm flattered really..." you were interrupted when he took your hand and planted a kiss on it. He looked at your name tag momentarily before smiling. "And you've got a pretty name, Y/N"
"Gorgeous ain't she?" You heard a familiar, taunting voice from your left. Dally, stunning as ever. Icy eyes and pale skin. Hair white as snow falling to the left side of his face, ending at his defined cheekbone that was shamelessly decorated with a row of tiny almost non visible scars. He was a fighter. James seemed to turn his attention to Dally but he didn't let go of your hand. "Yeah, she's definitely foxy. Why? 'She your girl?" James spoke confidently and clearly. Something a lot of guys cannot do around Dally. "Bingo!" Dally smiled his haunting but charming smile. His white, almost perfectly lined teeth clicked together in the fakest smile he could muster. His eyes quickly flashed in hatred as they landed on your guys' hands. He walked around you not really caring if he wasn't suppose to be behind the counter and took your hand from him. He used his left hand to slide down your back and land on your rear, giving it a firm squeeze. You inhaled sharply and smiled to James. "Thanks for the tip! I really appreciate it. I hope you and your friends enjoyed your time here..." you tried being as professional as you could. "Yea I hope you did." Dallas rested his chin on your shoulder. "Big bad Dallas Winston. Fighter of New York and Killer of Tulsa, Oklahoma." James smirked. "If he ever hurts you... you come to me, I'll take care of it." James' eyes sort of flared the equal amount of hatred as soon as they set on dally "I'm on the drive in end of the Ghetto. See ya, sweetheart." You froze, and turned to look at Dally. His eyes looked alarmed, his expression was blank. He bit his lip and sharply turned, walking around the counter with an angry stride. He sat down roughly, crossing his hands and resuming his conversation with Johnny. You knew he was angry, but you also knew not to interfere and just let him cool off before he blames you. You guys were similar in that way. But something about that last statement really hurt Dally. You could tell. Something in his eyes changed and he stopped holding you as soon as James walked away. You didn't know who was the asshole in this situation. All you knew was that you didn't like what just happened. Maybe even you needed some time to cool off. You grabbed your money, shoved in into your tip jar and went around the back. You stopped next to the cook, "Hey, Richard I'm out for today." You smiled, before continuing your walk until you got to the very back to grab your things. You grabbed your shoulder sling purse and slid off your dingo shirt, stuffing it in your back as well. You usually wore an under shirt under your work shirt so it was no biggy. You ruffled your hair some more before grabbing your keys and making your way out. You skipped along until you were in the front again. You stopped at the counter and looked around. No Dally. He was gone. He must've left. Your shoulders slumped a little. You really wanted to give him a goodbye kiss.

You walked out the Dingo and towards your car. Your father wasn't home that night, so you'd be safe to go back. And you were sick of staying at your friend's house.

LATER THAT NIGHT

You were in the kitchen, cleaning up but also making popcorn. A cheesy romance was playing in the background, casting a shallow white light over the whole living room. You loved that feeling. The instant feeling of at-ease that the TV gave you. Just to sit back and watch other people's lives and ignore your problems, even if they were fictional! You shook your popcorn around, and smiled. Finally!! You can have some lazy time. You walked over to the couch, flopping down and setting your popcorn neatly on the table in front of you. You took off your sweater, and kicked off your flats, sighing and relaxing.
You wished you could wear flamboyant dresses like the woman in the movie. You looked down, tank top, high waisted plaid shorts and high knee socks. Wow! You thought you looked like a hobo compared to her.
Diamond necklaces and long, flowy dresses.
As the movie rolled on, you began to get sleepier and sleepier. You stared at the television, so tired but so drawn in. You tuned everything else out. Cause nothing else mattered.
You could hear the faint creaking of your stairs, but immediately assumed it was the old house doing its normal breaking cycle. You wondered if the roof would ever collapse out of no where.
Tick...
Tock...
You felt something behind you, breathing up your neck when suddenly,
"You know I'd never hurt you, Doll."
You turned around to see Dallas. His eyes were red, suggesting he'd smoked pot or drank too much. Normally when he snuck up on you like this you'd yell at him, but what he said sort of lingered in the air. "I can't be for sure." You finally answered back. He looked at the ground with furrowed eyebrows. "Does that mean you don't trust me?" He asked coldly. "I thought you knew this about me, Dallas Winston. I don't trust anyone." You turned back to your movie. You heard him shuffle, before a weight formed next to you on the couch. "What do I have to do to make you trust me?" He asked, reaching over to glide his fingers across your collarbone. You looked at him, before turning back to the television, though you didn't continue watching. "I don't know. It's just a matter of time." You could feel how hesitant his touch grew, so you grabbed his hand from your collarbone and drew your thumb over his palm before lacing your fingers with his. He slipped off his leather jacket, revealing he was only in a tight fitted black short sleeve that was cuffed at the little sleeves. He lay his head in your lap, curling up right next to you. Wow, he must be really drunk. You felt the warmth of his hand leave yours as he placed it on your thigh. You let your hand rest on his head, brushing your fingers through his thick hair. You loved how it curled ever so slightly at the choppy ends, but how neat it was in the front. "Oh... what am I going to do with you..." you quietly spoke, tracing delicate strokes over his pale face, illuminated by the television. His head rested mid thigh to knee, so you leant down and placed kisses on his cheekbone, so delicate and light. You could feel him smiling. You knew he was never like this around anyone else. It wasn't very- 'Dallas-Winston' of him. Big bad wolf. But he wasn't just that, and he certainly wasn't a cliche tough on the outside soft on the inside. He was just him. He had his moments, he was scared of a lot of things, and he was scared of himself. But you made sure he knew that he could overcome and beat his fears when he was with you and when he wasn't. "You're mine. You know that, don't you?" He mumbled quietly, giving your leg a squeeze with the hand that rested atop it. "You'll never not be mine." His eyes slowly closed, the television light left his eyelashes as shadowy wisps on his cheeks.

"And you're mine, Dallas, you'll never not be mine."