βLookin' for a lover who won't blow my cover
She's just a little hard to findβ
An: I'm soooo sorry for the massive break I've been so busy and also so uninspired lately, idk how much I'll update during the school year either because I'm going into diploma soβ¦
Outlaw!Dallas Winston x Outlaw!Reader
Dallas Winston was many things, a liar, a thief, and most of all a criminal. But never a runner. Until now. His rap sheet had caught up to him this time and he was running. Where, he didn't know, to what, he didn't know, and least of all, to who, he really had no idea.Β
He had been on the road for days, walking, hitch hiking, pickpocketing for bus fares, anything. Buckβs thunderbird had finally tapped out half way between Shamrock and Amarillo through Texas. That was another thing he stole. And Buck was not likely to ever get it back. Not that it mattered to Dally, no one in Tulsa was ever getting him back either.Β
Currently, he was standing on the corner of two intersecting streets, somewhere in Winslow, Arizona. Dallas was leaning against a slightly rusted lamp post, sucking on a bummed cigarette and absent-mindedly flicking a scratched up zippo open and shut.Β
One more night here and then heβd skip town again.Β
A flatbed ford rounded down the street, he glanced through the glare on the windshield and caught a glimpse of a girl. As the truck slowed at the corner he got a good look at her face, and boy was she a fine sight to see.
Usually, heβd have slung a lazy cat-call at her, but as she glanced out the window he caught her eye and she gave him a funny look, not like she had recognized him, but something else. A sort of curious fascination.Β
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You had to leverage the wheel of the piece-of-junk pick up you hot wired a few states ago just to turn down a sloped corner because of the rusted steering column. It wasn't the most practical of getaway cars but it was the least likely to be missed. The least likely to be reported stolen.Β
You were approaching the corner of a throw away street in The Middle of Nowhere, Arizona. Slowing down at the mercy of the traffic light, you didn't want to be caught for everything you were getting away from in some throw away town for not abiding some throw away speed limit law.Β
You checked the sidewalks for any sort of law enforcement but came up empty, eyes landing only on a tired looking boy. He was young βabout your ageβ with a look in his eyes that you recognized. He looked just the type to yell out some crude, meaningless words at girls like you, so you waited for it, staring at him, half daring him, half bracing for the impact. Then he did something that struck you as abnormal. He just looked back at you in a way which indicated that he was just as mixed up as you.Β
You broke the uneasy eye contact and flicked your eyes back to the now green light. The truck picked back up in a surprisingly quick but incredibly squeaky wheeled acceleration, one that assured you this truck was beat up as hell, but it would take you exactly where you needed to go.
Where you needed to go right now was a dingy old motel where you would nick some keys to a dingy old room and spend your restless sleep much later that night in a presumably dingy old bed. This routine wasn't new to you after weeks and weeks on the road, however it was displeasing nonetheless. But outlaws can't be choosers.Β
You were done and out in less than two minutes, key safely stashed, ring secured to the loop of your boot and flipped inside, resting cooly on your calf.
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The sun was setting and Dallas Winston was really screwed, he had no cash, no car, and nowhere else to go. So he did the thing anyone who didn't want to be found and didn't have a place to stay did; he went to a bar.
A grungy place, exposed brick and flickering neon signs advertising A-1 pilsner. He slipped in the door, the chatter, dancing, and music drowning his heavy steps. Dally took an unattended pint off the counter and intended to make a sauntering bee line towards the back booth. His intentions were foiled when he saw a girl already sitting there. One with a familiarly pretty face and eyes burning with curiosity. Her lips quirked up, welcoming him to share her secluded hiding spot.Β
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The mysterious boy from earlier approached your sequestered table, a false sense of confidence radiating off of him. Maybe at one point his self assurance had been real, but the slight quiver in his hand was made apparent as the caramel colored liquid in his glass rippled. He sat down across from you, the worn down vinyl of the seating allowing him to slide in easily.Β
He looked up at you, a cocky glimmer from being called over by a girl masking the darkness in his eyes and the realer feelings behind it. He hummed in a low, gruff tone, indicating for you to speak. However, you weren't going to let him win, and you knew you could get a guy like him to start talking. You just gave him a look, eyes widening a bit more than usual and a sense of innocence passing over your face. The perfect trick.Β
βWell damn, what?β He started. You inwardly smirked, success. βYou gonna say somethinβ or are you just gonna look at me like that?β He interrogated.Β
You let your expression crack into an amused smile and turned your face slightly to the side, now that you had him here you were going to pick him apart.Β
Still not looking in his direction you swirled your drink with your finger absentmindedly before asking him a simple, plain as day question. βSo what's your deal, huh?β
This really mixed him up, his eyebrows furrowed and you could see out of the corner of your eye he was trying to formulate a non revealing answer to this question. Before he could give his non-answer you interrupted, saying βCause I saw you on that street corner and boy, your wheels were turning hard up there, so what's your deal?β. All of this you spoke in a tone which couldnt possibly be construed as threatening or insulting, just curious.Β
He crossed his arms tight in front of his chest mumbling some fib like βnothing man jeez.β You just nodded and observed his demeanor. After a minute of studying something clicked in your mind and you nodded your head at him once.Β
βYouβre on the run too, ain't ya.β not a question, more of an assertion. Something changed in his face, like he was replaying the moments that came before this one, leading him to you.Β
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Dallas couldn't believe this little broad had just said something like that to him. Who were you to say anything about his life to him? Worst of all he hated that you were right. The annoyance at this situation almost made him slip past the fact that you added a βtooβ in your sentence. So the little detective know-it-all is an outlaw. Same as him. This realization made him give a smug look and respond with a βyou too, huh.β He almost asked what you were running from but before he did he remembered that if you gave an answer, he would have to as well, so he stopped himself before any question along those lines could escape his lips.Β
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You looked at the delinquent boy before you, just to make note of his features. He was by no means Warren Beatty in the heartthrob sort of way your old girl friends would swoon over, but if you were attracted to the rough types he was certainly a top choice, and you were. This thought made you laugh softly to yourself. Running from the cops but still finding time to check out a cute boy.Β
He noticed and tried to make sense of your sudden joviality but failed, resorting to asking βwhatβre you always smilinβ for?βΒ
You retorted with βyβknowβ¦ you should lighten up β while you still can.β your forefinger was wresting on your bottom lip while you nodded like a shrink making a profound prescription.
ββM not even gonna try to make sense of you.β he sighed in defeat lace with amusement.
Β Β A comfortable silence fell over the tiny back corner of the bar.Β
You slid your hand under his which rested on the slightly sticky maple toned wood of the bar table. Standing up and glancing towards the back door he got up with you and let you lead the way.
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Your back was against the cool metal of the flatbed, your hands were carding through his hair and you could feel him exhaling on your neck where he was currently kissing. Soft hums of content escaped your lips.Β
Through heavy panting, you half whispered, βYou gotta name?β. His hands were still on your waist, roaming up your sides when he answered back, βDallas.β you reached behind yourself and pulled the passenger door to the stolen truck open a small crack. He slid his hand over your shoulder and yanked the door open, spinning you around the other way to climb into the truck and on top of the cracked leather bench seat. He pulled you up onto his lap, locking his lips with yours. His jeans were rough against your inner thighs which were straddling him. You let yourself tease him by threading a finger through one of his belt loops and giving a light skim under his waistband as he pulled the rusted door shut.
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You were still panting softly, settling into the drivers side corner of the bench seat, back uncharacteristically pressed to the wall. As you brushed your tussled hair behind one ear you kicked your legs up on the seats to stretch, knees slightly bent in order to give Dallas some room.Β Β
You half expected him to bolt as soon as it was over but he was getting rather comfortable himself, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. The dim glow from the neon of the bar illuminated his silhouette and his closed eyes allowed you to let your gaze linger on him. The almost undetectable rise and fall of his chest from every drag of his cigarette, the sharpness of his features, his jaw and throat left with light smudges of your lipstick.Β
Suddenly, he turned his head towards you. You knew heβd caught you staring again but he didn't make a show of minding all that much. β βM cominβ with.β he told you. Not a question.Β
Before you could protest he followed up with a β Cβmahnnnn.β His Brooklyn accent making you smile. βNow don't tell me none of that βmaybeβ bull shit, Iβm cominβ.βΒ
You bit your lower lip in thought. β βKay.β you shrugged. Why not? It's not like he could turn you in for anything, itβd be a sentence for him as well. And something deeper compelled you to agree. Something that told you that maybe you could save each other from something worse.
You turned the screwdriver in the key-hole of the stolen truck and pulled out of the lot.
The key from the motel still hooked in your boots, a souvenir from the first of your many adventures with Dallas Winston.
