i love delicate reader so much, i see so much of myself in her 🥺 can you write about one of the instances where darry has to call dally to come comfort you after a nightmare? 😭💕
⟢ ꒰ ⋮ 「 Comfort 」 ⸝⸝
… or, when you’re in a time of need and dally isn’t there
warnings ~ mostly fluff, nightmares, brief insinuation of SA, Dally being a D1 sap </3
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⊹ w/c ~ 754
a/n ~ oh how I’ve missed writing for my girl delicate!reader💔 also yall remember I write for people other than pony and darry and have unique au's (that is all my asks are filled of) (not rlly a complaint but still i miss my boys)
Hands. Everywhere. That’s all you can feel.
On your hips. On your chest.
Firm, selfish hands holding down your arms, your legs. Immobilizing you. Preventing your escape.
When you open your eyes, you’re met with nothing but inky blackness. But then faces begin to emerge. Familiar faces.
The faces of those who broke you down and left you nothing but a shell of your previous self.
Cruel smiles are plastered to their lips, as they grab onto your arms and hold you down.
“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be hangin’ around grease.” The blue-eyed one quips.
The other two tighten their grip on your body.
“You need to be taken care of by a real man.”
He places his hands on your things, and—
You wake up gasping, screaming. Tears stream down your cheeks, chest heaving with every breath you try taking.
You feel like you’re suffocating.
And then Darry bursts into your room.
Panic is written all over his face, and you can’t blame him. But that doesn’t stop you from putting yourself into the corner of your bed. As far away from him as you can.
He knows what this means, why you get like this and how to fix it. Without a word, he leaves the room and walks over to the landline.
His heart faces as he dials Buck’s number.
Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up…
Then there’s a click.
“Hello?” A gruff, clearly tired voice spits.
“Buck?”
“Darrel? The hell are you doin’ up this late?”
“It don’t matter, is— is Dally there?” Darry tries to keep himself from sounding too panicked.
“Uh, yeah. Want me to get ‘im?”
“Yes. Please. Quickly.”
The other end goes silent for a while, before a voice with a thick and familiar accent speaks.
“What’s up, man?” Dallas drawls.
“It happened again.”
“Darry? The fuck are you doin’ up?”
“She had another nightmare. I need you here right now.”
Once again, it goes silent.
“Shit, man.. I’ll be over in ten.”
“Thank you, Dally.” Darrel ignores the desperate relief in his tone.
“Man, it's no problem.” The phone clicks, the line goes dead, and all Darry can do is wait.
Dally arrives in less than eight minutes.
He doesn't bother parking well, instead rushing inside the house. He knows how bad it gets for you at night. How you wake up trembling and in tears.
The door slams open, probably waking up Pony and Soda, but he doesn’t care. He brushes past Darry without a word – an interaction they’ve both grown used to – making a beeline for your room.
When he opens your door, the tough facade he puts on melts.
You sit in the corner of your bed, backed up against the wall, cowering like a scared little deer. Your gaze doesn't even flicker up to him, instead staying wide-eyed and focused on the ground.
He can’t imagine the things you’re going through, have gone through.
“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is soft, gentle; uncharacteristically tender.
Your eyes finally meet his, and as he sheds his jacket and boots, it softens.
He strips down to his boxers before he slides into bed beside you. Immediately, you cling to his side, pressing your face against the crook of his neck.
“That dream must’ve been scary, huh?” His arms encircle your body, drawing you even closer to him. The skin-to-skin contact comforts you, his warmth seeps into your skin like a drug you’ll never get sick of.
You nod at his words, cuddling into his side.
Dally smiles, bringing a hand up to brush your hair out of your face. He does that for a while; just petting you, murmuring tender words in your ear that would crush his ‘tough-guy’ persona like an ant.
Your eyes soon grow heavy, sleep threatening to once again overtake your body.
“You tired, sweet thing?” His own voice is thick with exhaustion.
“Mhmm…” You sigh, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.
He lays a soft kiss on your forehead, before his arms wrap entirely around your body. There isn’t a single place you feel more safe than in Dally’s arms. Ironic, really, considering his record – both criminal and with women.
“Go to sleep, baby. I gotchu.” He pecks your cheek, bringing a hand up to smooth your hair on the back of your head.
Moments later, you’re drifting off into slumber, peaceful and content. Nightmares don’t plague you, instead replaced with warmth and safety.
As for Dally?
He couldn’t be happier.
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