↳tell my mama that i died like a rockstar!₊˚✧
—IN WHICH, dallas is a rockstar and you’re his rockstar gf!。✦
dallas was a famous rockstar, one of the top.
his out of this world looks, his big ego, his flamboyant personality—i mean, what? was he not supposed to be a rockstar with all those qualities?
all the girls had posters of him, pictures of him in their locker, tattoos, and dated guys only because they looked like him.
but somehow—none of that made any of them interesting. all he saw were weird obsessed fans.
you were the apple of his eye, the one he made all the love songs out too, the one he’d keep backstage, the one he’d pull onto stage.
he’d run off to the side where you were standing, flash his famous grin and grab you by the wrist.
pulling you onto stage as he sings lyrics that were obviously describing you.
dallas would have a microphone in one hand while holding your hand in his other, looking you right in the eyes.
his sweat dripping off his face, the grin never leaving.
when the concert ends, you rush to the bathroom to collect yourself. you never knew he was gonna pull you onto stage, you don’t do well in front of crowds.
when you’ve calmed yourself down—you go searching for dallas.
only to find him leaning against a wall, flirting with a fan.
she was giggling, twirling her hair, batting her lashes.
dallas was bragging. you could always tell when he was. his chin was raised, his chest was puffed out, and he talked more with his hands.
you licked the inside of your cheek, annoyed.
he always does this. always.
he flirts with some bitch of a fan, trying to get you jealous.
you hated it, but he enjoyed it.
the girl seemed to notice your presence. she made eye contact with you and got timid.
she stopped twirling her hair, her body got tense, and you could tell she was trying to find an out to the conversation.
“tryna leave so soon, baby? c’mon—we just started talkin’.”
“dallas, your girlfriend.”
you could just feel the smirk on his face at the mention of you.
he knew his plan was working.
and it just angered you more.
he turned around and looked you up and down before forgetting about the girl.
he walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“where were ya?”
“shut up.”
dallas chuckles.
he keeps one arm around you as he escorts you to the limo he has ready.
he opens the door for you as you hear his fans screaming his name—paying 0 attention to his other band mates.
you get in, dallas right behind you.
you sit down, arms crossed—glaring at dallas.
he stares into your eyes before grinning.
he’d lean in closer, slightly tilting his head.
“what’s wrong, doll?”
“don’t give me that bullshit, dallas.”
you snarl, rolling your eyes.
he chuckles, grabbing your chin with his hand.
“c’mon. you know i still love you, right?”
“mhm.”
you answer, your eyes shifting away from his.
dallas leans in, kissing the corner of your mouth.
“use yer words—don’t like it when you act like this.”
he was lying.
both you and him knew that.
“i said, ‘mhm,’ is that not good enough?”
you ask, looking at him now.
he smiles before leaning in and kissing you.
he puts a hand on your cheek, grinning into the kiss.
he pulls away, staring at your lips.
“can’t be mad at me. i mean— ‘m dallas winston.”
he brags, looking over to the side.
“i think that just made me even more angry, dal.”
“oh come on, babe. you know i ain’t mean it.”
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