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xozombiee · 1 year ago

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“AFTER HOURS!” | W. BONNEY

✫| synopsis: bartending in the west gets boring at times, especially when the same old cowboys and outlaws come through those saloon doors everyday. you’d thought this was it..that’s the end of your story. then a certain outlaw, who’s name was getting around, walked through the doors.

warnings: porn with little plot, mentions of death, riding, little praise..it’s always gonna be there, female bodied reader, lowk psy rubbing??, hair pulling me thinks, idk what else

note: am i doing this instead of my homework?…yes. also do i know wtf women wore in the 1800s? err no. i tried tho! this is not proofread btw

In a dusty, sun-kissed town nestled amidst the rugged landscape of the west, there stood a saloon that echoed with tales of grit and resilience. behind the polished mahogany bar, you stood tall with a fiery spirit that matched the flickering glow of the oil lamps that illuminated the room.

you weren’t any ordinary bartender; you were a force to be reckoned with. with glimmering eyes that held mystery, and a rough demeanor that you used to command respect from every patron who dared to enter the establishment. your hands, calloused from years of hard work, moved with grace and precision as you served up drinks that could raise spirits or drown sorrows.

though the town was dominated by rough cowboys and outlaws, you had carved out your own place in their rugged hearts. they sought solace in your presence, and you became a confidante, offering a sympathetic ear to the broken souls who stumbled through the doors.

as the sun began its descent, casting an orange hue over the town, your saloon transformed into a sanctuary of camaraderie and laughter. the clinking of glasses and the lively banter of patrons mixed with the soulful melodies of a lone pianist, creating a symphony that echoed through the wooden walls.

but behind the facade of joviality, you carried your own secrets and dreams. you arrived in this town not long ago, escaping a past that haunted your every step. determined to leave a mark on the world, you had chosen the life of a bartending, finding comfort in the stories and journeys of those who crossed paths with you.

with swift movements back and forth behind your bar, you served drinks to the men celebrating..whatever it was this time. they sang along with others, their words jumbled and lazy, but undoubtedly filled with passion. you laughed as one of them sung to you, his eyes droopy and a crooked smile at his lips.

cleaning a few glasses, you watch as they all chat amongst themselves, if they weren’t still singing that is. a part of you yearned to have a life like theirs. to be free to do whatever you please, and not be told otherwise. you’d liked the idea of running from place to place and meeting new people. though, that’d never happen for you.

your back turns as you gather the clean glasses together, putting them neatly side by side. the sound of the saloon doors open, a sound you were used to by now. with your back still turned, you notice how most of the attendees in the saloon had gone quiet, watching as the person and their footsteps approached the bar.

turning back around, you come face to face with a taller man. he wore a shabby black hat, a maroon corduroy jacket that sat along his shoulders, and a gun at his waist. two actually, you noted as the jacket moved when he sat at the bar.

with a polite smile, you come closer, holding his gaze with yours. “evening, sir. what can i get you?”

he gives you a tight lipped smile, “whiskey, please.”

you hold his gaze for a second longer before glancing back at the people in the saloon. they stared with either fear, or curiosity in their faces. a scowl grows on your lips, muttering a small ‘drunkards’ under your breath.

the man watches as you place a clean glass onto the bar, and grab a bottle filled with brown liquid. his gaze moves to the drink as it pours into the cup, almost filling to the brim.

“you look familiar,” your voice chimes in again. “have i seen you in here before?”

he shakes his head, gaze falling back to yours. “nah.” he replies. “just passing through.”

with a sigh falling from your nose, you try to read his expression; he looked tired. you weren’t an idiot, it was obvious he was on the run. you’d seen his face on the posters, but didn’t know what his name was or what he was wanted for.

your fingernail taps against the glossy wood of the bar. trying to hide your sympathetic expression, you glance around the room. “if you need anything else, let me know, yeah?”

he nods, watching as you walk away to tend to the other customers. the way you moved was calm despite working in such an intense environment. his eyes trailed up and down your figure before taking a sip from his glass.

it seemed like hours passed as you worked. going back and forth behind the counter was time consuming as it passed so quickly. more and more people were leaving the bar as the early hours of the next day were coming.

as you went to grab some glasses from tables, you notice as the man before was still at the bar. his head was hung low, eyes trained on his glass. he’d had about three glasses of whiskey by now, only taking sips from time to time.

you’d noticed through the night how people tried to approach him. he’d usually brush them off, or making small talk that ended in peaceful silence. he wasn’t someone that was easily approachable to the blind eye. he held a strong, cold demeanor.

after gathering all the dirty glasses, and kicking the last passed out drunkard, you slide back behind the bar. you take the bucket of dirty glasses to the small sink, placing it inside before turning the water on. as it fills, you stare at it as your mind falls else where.

before it overflows, you turn the faucet off. you pour a little soap into the mix before drying your hands off to let the glasses soak. with echoing footsteps, you turn back to the bar and are face to face with the man of the night.

“want another, or is three enough?” you ask, a slight smile at your lips.

he glances up at you, studying your expression for a moment. his eyes drop back to the wooden bar, fingers tapping his halfway-empty-glass.

“this is fine.” he answers.

your elbows come to rest at the cool wood, chin in your palm as you watch him. you’d debated for most of the night to ask him what exactly he was running from. it would probably sound stupid considering how everyone and their second cousin knew about it. all except for you, as you didn’t look much into news and such.

he stares back at you, giving you the same energy within his gaze. his blue eyes analyze every bit of you, and you almost shudder at the sight of it.

“so, how long you been on the run now?” you ask, voice interrupting each of your own thoughts.

he brings the glass to his lips, downing the rest before replying. “months.” he mutters, not even phased by your abrupt question.

you hum in reply, “alone?”

“mhm.”

with his short and simple response, you laugh. it wasn’t out of humor, but rather more of irritation. you’d think someone as well known as him would talk more. most outlaws never shut up about flaunting their reputations. it’s different.

“you’re not a man of many words.” you say, not really caring about how he’d take your tone.

he shrugs, sucking his teeth a bit. “i’ve got nothing to say.”

you raise a brow, “tell me a story or something. i hear the same shit every night from my regulars. give me something new.” you request.

pouring a little more whiskey into his glass, you watch as his eyes dart to yours. “it’s on me.” you assure, giving him a smile.

the man sighs, tilting his head a little at the thought. what could he tell you? that he killed a man? that he fought a man in a saloon just like yours right before shooting him in the stomach out of defense? no..you’d probably already heard it anyways.

“what do you already know about me?” he questions, taking another sip.

your eyes squint at him, “i know you’re an outlaw on the run, obviously..and that’s about it. i don’t even know what the hell they call you.” you reply.

he chuckles, a small smile at his lips. “you’re probably one of the first.” he says. “just call me billy.”

with another hum, you nod slowly and give him your name. “billy..yeah, i think i did hear that once or twice.”

“well, either way, i don’t have many stories to tell.”

your eyes roll, a huff coming from your nose. “tell me why you’re an outlaw. i’ve heard like three different stories, and it can’t be all of them.”

billy smiles again, eyes falling from yours and to your lips for a split second. you watch him debate in his head before taking his hat off. he sets it on the empty stool next to him, running his fingers through his hair. he had brown shaggy hair that was sprawled all over his head.

“i killed a man. it was self defense.” he says, almost as if he was pleading his case.

you deadpan at him, “that’s all i get? not even a backstory?”

“there’s not much to it. he was making accusations at me..which weren’t entirely false, then he came at me. we fought over my gun, and i shot.” he elaborates, glancing at you with disinterest as if it was a meaningless story.

you fall quiet for a moment, brows raised while processing his words. that story was heard, but you didn’t know if it was the truth until now. the other stories were about robbing a bank and killing a bunch of people. hearing the actual story now..you couldn’t understand all the fuss.

a laugh falls from your lips, hand moving to pinch the bridge of your nose. “so, all this talk is because you killed a man that was attacking you?”

“yes, ma’am.”

your smile remains for a bit, eyes watching billy. “so, what now? you just gonna keep running?”

he shrugs once more, eyes kept on his glass. “probably.”

“have you at least slept?”

billy shakes his head. you chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating multiple things in your head. if you offered him a place to sleep in the loft above your saloon, he’d probably laugh in your face. but, a part of you didn’t want him out on the street sleeping defenseless.

as a other sigh falls from you, you move away from the bar and stand straight. “i’ve got an extra room where i stay. wanna take it for the night?”

his eyes find yours, expression vague, “are you sure? i mean, i don’t wanna—”

“it’s fine. i’d feel guilty if i opened up tomorrow and my regulars are telling me you got killed in your sleep.”

billy focuses on you for awhile before taking one last sip. he lightly places the glass on the counter before moving to grab some money from his pocket.

your hand finds his wrist as he places it on the counter. “keep it. just take your ass upstairs while i finish up.”

he grins a little, grabbing his hat and standing from the stool. billy slowly moves to the door at the back of the saloon, opening it and disappearing from sight. you roll up your sleeves as you move back to the sink, dipping your hands into the soapy water to clean the glasses.

after about ten minutes, you make way up to your loft in the building. your footsteps slightly echo as you move toward the light in the living room. when you reach the floor, you watch as billy sits on the couch with his head thrown back on the edge while his hat covered up his face.

slowly approaching in front of him, you lightly kick his shin. he snaps his head up, eyes wide as his hat falls to his lap. he lets out a small breath in relief, making you smile. you watch as he sits up on the couch.

“scared the shit out of me.” he mumbles, putting that ragged hat on again.

you move to sit next to him, bouncing lightly on the cushions. “must’ve been too tired to hear me coming up the steps.”

he leans into the couch once more, eyes trained on the ceiling. you watched his expression and how he studied the whiteness of the panels above.

“penny for your thoughts?” you whisper, watching his eyes shift over to you.

billy shakes his head, scoffing a little to himself. “it’s nothing. just thinking.”

“about?”

“everything.”

you let your gaze falter, moving to the floor. “everything that’s happened?” you ask.

he nods, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. billy wants nothing more than to go back and stop everything that’s happened. to change what got him to this point.

but if he did that, he would’ve never met you. you were one of the kindest people to him since the incident. the way you carried yourself, much like him, was with confidence. he respected you, and that aspect of your personality.

“i understand what it’s like..kind of.” you say, patting down the wrinkles in your outfit. “i was never wanted, but i’ve done things. things i wish i could take back.”

billy watches as you speak, the way your lips move and the expression you hold shifts with each emotion running through you. he almost doesn’t understand what you’re saying. the only thing keeping him to reality was the fact you sounded serious.

he adjusts himself on the furniture, “what have you done?” he asks, a part of him afraid to know the answer.

“i’ve killed.” you reply, the tone of your voice dropping lowly. “it was in defense, like you.”

billy watches the way you bounce your knee against the flooring of the loft. the dress you wear moves along with it, and your shoe lightly taps.

“when did it happen?” he asks as his pure curiosity gets the best of him.

you look up at him, smiling a little. “i was fourteen.”

billy looks at you, empathizing with your situation. though he wasn’t that young when it happened, he still felt some sort of connection with your experience.

“i don’t regret killing him honestly, but i regret hurting my family and his. they didn’t deserve to go through that. it wasn’t any of their faults.” you say as you breathe out slowly.

in an small moment, his hand is on yours. it’s a light touch, like he’s afraid to hurt you. billy moves his other hand to the space beneath your chin, and shifts your head to look at him in the eyes.

his voice is light, “you were defending yourself. it wasn’t your fault either.” billy whispers.

the words make your heart swell. after everything, hearing those words made it all feel better. almost all the guilt left your veins. he was right after all. it wasn’t your fault. what that man did..you just did what you had to.

as he holds your gaze, you slowly inch toward him. his blue irises bore into yours, watching as you shift them to his lips. they were slightly chapped and held a small frown on them.

billy leaned closer to you and your breaths mingled, like two lights finding each other in the darkness. he could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, as all of his senses were focused on you and you alone.

he closed the distance, and his lips met yours. billy felt himself melt into you like a magnet. everything muted itself, and his hands made way to your waist. he pulled you onto him, your knees caging around his thighs.

your hands found their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. he tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin against his. the room seemed to dissolve around you as the only thing in existence was this. this perfect union.

time stood still, and you both wanted more, but neither wanting it to initiate it. then, with what restraint he had left, he pulled away, his lips still grazing yours.

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with worry. “im sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“shut up.”

pressing your lips back to his, he lets out a grunt in reply before melting into you once more. the warmth of you, your lips, your being that sat in his lap—he felt lightheaded. billy moved his hands to your waist again, slowly trailing them up your back.

you feel the buttons of your dress being undone. he stops right before taking the sleeves off, prying himself away from you. billy’s eyes look into yours for confirmation, and you give him a quick, impatient nod in reply.

with that, he pulls the dress off slowly. your lips trail from his own to his neck, putting the flesh between your teeth. he groaned, trying to focus on untying your corset.

as he removed it, he wasted no time to discard it to the floor, hands making way to take off the chemise you wore.

“all those months on the run got you impatient now, cowboy?” you mutter, laughing as he would struggle from time to time.

billy looks up at you, his gaze slightly hidden by his hat, “no, just none of the women i’ve been with wore this much underneath. i’m also not a cowboy, sweetheart.”

rolling your eyes, you grab at his wrists to stop him. he looks up at you, big eyes and all, causing the built up pressure in your lower stomach to worsen. “just leave it. i’m not wearing anything under, so don’t fuss.”

you watch him nod slowly as he started to stare, making no move to take off his clothes. “do i have to do it for you?” you whisper, hands undoing the brown suspenders on his shoulders.

he shakes his head, moving to unbutton his pants he wore. you watch the way he fumbles with them, sliding them midway down his thighs. billy’s hands eventually move back to your waist, bunching up your chemise to your hips.

billy’s eyes watch as your pretty pussy comes into view, sitting in his lap with such a prepossessing aura. he has to restrain himself from taking you right then.

his dick was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. it looked painful and it was because of you. you. you wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. you raise yourself a bit so he can align himself to your entrance. the cool touch of his hand meets your cunt, sliding a finger through the folds and collecting the juices flowing from you.

he uses your slick and spreads it across your sensitive pussy. you took a deep breath of air into your lungs. this feeling was new, since no man you’d been with ever did this, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

a small groan falls from billy’s lips as he uses it to prep himself, guiding his hand along his cock and pumping it slowly. he was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock.

you knew you would stretch around him, that your walls would be a perfect fit around his length. you were too impatient for any sort of foreplay; you wanted the stretch. you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

billy grabs your hips with his unoccupied hand, bringing you closer to him. you let out a whimper as you began to sink onto him, eyes flicking to his. those blue ones he held were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now.

his hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. it was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to almost whine at the feeling of you.

your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. your fingers weakly fist his shirt as you begin to ride him, raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. he reached the deepest spot inside of you somehow. no one had ever done that. not like this.

his cockhead grazes your spongy spot as you fuck yourself on him. arousal and his pre-cum are smeared all over your thighs. this sight made billy’s breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking him. you looked completely dissoluted like this.

your hair was a mess now, your lips glossy and swollen, hands digging into his shoulder. billy felt himself become enraptured by you and this sight. it was something he could get used to..if he wasn’t an outlaw that is.

he pulls you closer to him. one of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. his hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

watching him with a hazy gaze, you remove the hat from his head. you place it onto your own, grinning at how he stares up at you like you were the creator of all living beings and creatures on this earth.

moving one of your hands from his shoulder, you bring it to his hair and give some strands a tug. he groans, the vibrations of his chest transferring to his dick, which transferred to you.

each thrust of his was made for his selfishness in your velvet walls. the drag of his cock was perfect, his speed was unbelievable. it was like heaven itself, but without the pearly gates and clouds.

while stuck in your own brain, the feeling of teeth bring you back to reality. you let a shuddered sigh fall as billy digs into the collarbone that peaked from your square-necked chemise. he slowly kisses up your neck, bringing a hand to the back of your head.

“fuck..’s too good,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice even.

you laugh, making him groan a little. he looks up, watching as you bounce with one hand held on his hat to keep it on. “too good? were all your other girls shit?”

he lets out short breaths, his blue eyes studying the way you moved as if he was in a trance. billy would answer if he wasn’t on another planet right now. a planet where you were taking him so deliciously, almost to the point where he could pass out.

“fuck,” he says under his breath as your pussy clenches around him. “where do you want it?” his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure.

you pant, “inside.”

billy doesn’t waste a second before obliging and quickening his pace, making the hat on your head fall lopsided. you could feel the pressure in you tightening, almost about to burst like a pipe.

he moves his thumb to rub at your clit, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart on top of him with a loud cry. your orgasm hits you hard and billy can’t hold it in any longer. he fucks into you for another minute, eyes squeezed shut as he groans out your name.

billy groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with his newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans echoing in the living room.

your cunt milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you. the both of you pause, your hands resting on his chest as you catch your breath.

he slowly eases his cock out of you. the both of you were breathing heavily as he pulls you closer, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. you wrap you arms around his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“wanna share my bed?” you whisper.

tags: @m0rphys

#xozombiee #YESS I FINISHED #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid #save a horse ride a cowboy #coriolanus snow #RAHHHHHH #guys pls like #and subscribe #william h bonney

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phantomvegetable · 3 months ago

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Trapper x Reader

twice saved, once trusted tw’s: typical dbd violence, strong language NOTE: made some edits :B

Kindness was something that did not exist in Evan’s world. Not anymore, anyway—not as long as the entity existed.

The closest thing to kindness to be found here was the sweet, merciful kiss of death after minutes of excruciating pain. To put one out of one’s misery… that is kindness.

So, when Evan—or “trapper,” as these feeble humans titled him in hushed whispers around the campfire—was shown kindness that resulted in being freed from pain without death to follow, he was at a loss for… well, anything.

You showed up without Evan being able to hear you over the blood rushing in his ears; timid and meek, like a rabbit first stepping out of the brush to check for predators. A bear trap—one of his very own—clamped painfully tight around his foreleg, crunching the bone and tearing ligaments at any tiny movement he made. Even worse, he was pinned beneath debris that fell atop the stun pallet that was thrown on him in a survivor’s attempt to flee. It was heavy enough to make him wheeze, lungs rattling with every slow inhale.

Irony was cruel like that—it didn’t care that he was the Trapper, caught by his own bidding. Evan sneered at the thought.

You must have heard his struggle—that, or you simply walked in on his unsightly hindrance and were curious—because you stepped out from the shadows and approached him, cautious.

“Are… you okay?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. The gentleness and concern make Evan’s ears itch. Did you not know he was the killer? Could you not see who he was?

Unable to see, Evan relied on his hearing to pinpoint your location, listening closely to your careful footfalls that edged closer and closer.

Either you didn’t see that he was the killer and the shock of the situation finally dawned on you, if your startled gasp was anything to go by, or you truly were rattled by the grisly sight of the bear trap and couldn’t help but express it outwardly. Evan waited for you to do something—to run away screaming, to laugh and mock him, to finally kill him for the atrocities he’s committed against you and your community of survivors—but the silence merely stretched on, causing his lips to pull into a tight frown. Maybe you had run away, and he just didn’t hear you leaving.

Evan tried shifting the weight on top of him, the muscles in his calf contracting and making the trap tighten its vengeful grip on him. He groaned, low and in pain. His leg was starting to go numb.

Suddenly, Evan feels hands working to free him, starting with the trap first. It gives one last painful squeeze before loosening, the jaws falling open and releasing his leg from its teeth. The blood that rushes out feels both warm and cold against his skin. The contrast makes him grimace.

Next, the debris pile is being lifted, and finally Evan can see your face. He recognizes you at once—a killer never forgets his victims. Your brows are pulled taught in effort to push the wood and rubble off of him, teeth gritted as you struggle. Sweat causes the hair around your face to stick to your temples, dirt coating your forehead and chin. To anyone else, you might look grimy. To Evan, you were a sheen of light splintering cracks in his darkness.

The pallet and the items it collected topple over, granting Evan air to breathe deeply. His body creaks as he sits up, grunting. He reaches for the bear trap still hanging around his ankle, raising his foot to toss the gear haphazardly to the side. Despite the constant throbbing his leg is giving him, Evan clambers to his feet with low groaning, rolling his wide shoulders. He towers above you, enveloping your trembling frame in his monstrous shadow. You make no moves to get away; instead, you seem to be rooted in place, watching him with wide eyes.

Before you’re able to say, or do, anything further, Evan simply staggers forward on his bad leg and limps away, leaving you to watch his retreating frame in wild confusion that he let you go.

He wasn’t quite sure why, either.

———

The next time it happens, Evan could not be more frustrated or in disbelief at the sheer embarrassment of being caught stuck in a window. The barbs and spikes that protrude from his skin hold him hostage against pinewood, having one leg strung over the sill while the other kept him upright from the outside. His left shoulder remains pinned against the wall, his right arm hanging out the other side lamely. The survivor—Ace, he recalls—stops a few feet ahead of him and turns once he realizes he’s not being followed, barking out an incredulous laugh at the sight.

“Ha! What, can’t get out, big buy?” He sneers. “Should fuckin’ teach ya.” Ace spits on the ground in a show of defiance, but at Evan’s animalistic growl and effort to swing at him, Ace yelps and jumps back, wasting no time to scramble away in a cloud of dust. Evan snorts, unimpressed.

For the next few minutes, he tries to push, to pull—only earning protesting groans from the wall that refused to let him go. He’s ready to start clubbing the building when he hears an all-too-familiar gasp come from behind him, causing his hackles to raise.

“Oh, dear…” You sigh, matching Evan’s bewilderment at the deja vu. You don’t say anything else and tip toe to where Evan is able to catch sight of you in his peripheral vision, revealing the same sweaty face that so sweetly stared up at him with doe-like eyes. You’re sporting a new hat today, one that compliments your features. He would like to admire it more, but he’s growing more agitated by the minute.

As you take in his situation, you chew your bottom lip apprehensively, eyes sweeping him up and down. “Okay… I’m going to touch you, okay?” You warn him, hands hovering just above his bicep, but not making contact. Evan waits, until he realizes that you’re waiting for his consent, piquing his curiosity further. Were you really not that scared of him? Or just stupid?

He mutters before giving an approving grunt, which you take as a sign to go ahead and start pushing. The feeling of your fingertips against his skin is alien—they’re not calloused or rough at all. Not entirely soft, yet not scarred like his. You’re also incredibly warmer than he is, something that Evan finds himself not disliking.

“You—ngh—going to help?” You huff, jostling Evan back into reality. He resumes his attempts, teeth grinding as he strains to pull himself free. There’s a crack, then another one, and at a particularly hard shove from your end the wood finally splinters and breaks. You give one final heave, hands now against Evan’s back, sending the him through the window. Pieces of wood fall to the ground like rain around him, an unshapely hole now cratered on the side of the cabin. Evan couldn’t care less, though.

He staggers to his feet, craning his head to look up at your face, which looks immensely pleased. Evan tries to find his voice to thank you when he realizes that he hasn’t used it in ages, creating a sense of insecurity within him. It’s bound to be an unpleasant sound. He also realizes he’s supposed to be killing you, not thanking you. What Evan failed to remember, the Entity would surely remind him of.

But as he stares up at you—you, whose expression had dropped at Evan’s intense silence; you, who had helped him for the second time in a row without hesitation—he feels angry. A familiar emotion, and an even more familiar recipient.

The Entity. The cause of his suffering. The dark ruler of this forsaken place.

Evan’s grip on his weapon tightens.

“Thank… you,” He manages to garble out, correct about his assumption that his voice would be rough on the ears. It makes his innards recoil.

But you don’t grimace, don’t draw back at the sound of it. Instead, your jaw hangs open in shock, and you almost seem to lean in.

“You… talk,” You spectate. Moonlight filters through the bare tree branches above, casting shadows that dance in the gap separating you and he. Something about it is mystifying.

“…Yes,” He grumbles hoarsely, shifting his weight uncomfortably underneath your awe-filled gaze.

“Do you have a name?” You prod figuratively. Evan’s nose wrinkles beneath his mask.

“Not.. important,” He gruffly rasps, “you.. have a name?” You tell him, and Evan breathes it in like oxygen. Your name is much sweeter than iron and tears.

At the sound of a generator imploding, your and Evan’s head turns, and you’re both reminded of your roles to play in this fiendish game.

“Please,” You plead, earning his sights back on you. “Please, will you let us escape just this once? No killing, no attacking.”

It wouldn’t be the first time that Evan has defied the Entity—the marks on his back were enough to prove that. But, something in the way you look at him has Evan itching to bend the rules again. Break them, even.

So, he nods.

You look like you’re about to cry—something Evan doesn’t particularly want to witness—so he turns to leave. “I knew it,” You whispered, loud enough for his ears only. “I knew there was a reason I was supposed to help you.”

He pauses, then, “…Evan.”

“Huh?”

He faces you, eyes gleaming from behind his mask. “My name.. Evan.”

You crack a smile. If he had it in him, Evan was sure he might return it.

#evan macmillan #evan macmillan x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #the trapper x reader #I LOVE YOU EVAN MACMILLAN #RAHHHHHH #lol i like to think evan avoids windows bc him big ol shoulders will get stuck :B #too beefy

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