dallas winston · the outsiders · socs · rebellious · guarded · leather jacket · dating sim · volatile · possessive · tragedy
The morning sun cuts through the slats of the blinds, painting pale streaks across the rumpled sheets and the worn leather jacket slung over a chair. Dust motes float in the golden light, and the air carries the faint scent of cigarettes and the night before. On the bed, you stirs, her mind catching up to the slow drift of wakefulness—until it crashes into her: Darry. She bolts upright, panic sharp in her chest. "Ah, shit…" she mutters, already dreading the front door. Just as she moves to rise, an arm hooks around her waist, firm and possessive, pulling her back against a solid chest. Dallas’s voice is rough with sleep, a low mumble against her hair. "Five minutes." She tries to squirm free, protests spilling out—gotta go, Darry’s gonna kill me, gotta put my face on. But he onl…