#Billy the kid x reader smut

[thaleleah]

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓶

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark-ish!Billy (just the tiniest bit tho), Virgin!Reader, Dub-Con, P in V, Hate Fucking (kinda but not really lol i tried), Fingering, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Mentions of a gun shot graze, Talk of tying up/restraining/bondage, Slight Dirty Talk, Rough Touches (he grabs her face & throat), Use of the word “drawers” instead of panties cause I'm cringey like that lol

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Dedicated to my anon who sent in this ask and put the thought of hate fucking in my head. I tried, hun lol. Didn't turn out how I thought it would and it's not my best work, but it did help me get out of my writing slump a bit sooooo i hope you enjoy it.

A/N 2: Please accept this supposed to be drabble that turned into basically a fic length thing as compensation for not having Godless Part 2 out yet. Hoping to finish it up within the next couple of weeks 🤞���

Summary: Jesse's younger sister is a pretty problem for Billy.

He’s so pissed at you. 

Jesse’s little sister once again trying to prove herself useful, trying to prove that she’s ‘one of the boys’, but doing nothing except getting in the way and causing trouble. 

It was supposed to be a quick job. They’ve rustled cattle together enough to have their system down pat, everyone in their gang playing their part perfectly so that they can be in and out of their target’s territory in the shortest amount of time. Very rarely do they get caught in the act now - and if they do, they’re good enough to never suffer losses. 

But when there’s a sweet-voiced, overly driven Miss suddenly among their operation when there’s not supposed to be, things can go wrong. 

You must have followed them, just far enough behind that they didn’t see you during their final look around before starting their run. One minute, everything was fine. None of the ranch owner’s cowboys were in sight and the cattle were proving to be easy to corral, not a single one of them choosing to go rogue and trying to push out of the herd. 

And then the next minute, you were there. You were wearing a dress when they left, a pretty little thing that Billy thought made the color of your eyes pop. It’s not your normal outfit, but you own it now courtesy of Jesse who was tired of hearing you nag about how much you wanted to come with them, how ‘helpful’ you could be if he just gave you a chance, and told you that if you wanted to be helpful you would run down to the local liquor store and make sure he had something to drink when they got back. 

You had switched out of the dress and back into your shirt and overalls, the shoes on your feet traded for riding boots instead of those dainty lace up ones. The hat that sat on your head covered your hair and the first thing that Billy notices when you ride up next to him is how tightly your hands are gripping the reins. 

The sight of you there catches him off guard and his gallop turns into a canter as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hey!” Jesse shouts from a little farther out. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ here?”

“I deserve to be here just as much as any of you,” You reply, head held high as you glare back at your brother. 

“Hell no! Get your ass ou–” 

The bullet whizzes past his head, cutting through the air with a near deadly precision. Everyone ducks, heads snapping to where the bullet came from as the sound of the gunshot rings in their ears. There’s a couple of the ranch owner’s cowboys standing at the top of the hill, firing shot after shot towards the gang and the compromised cattle. Another bullet just barely avoids digging itself into Billy’s arm, the hot lead grazing against his upper arm and tearing through his shirt. Your eyes are wide when Billy shouts in pain, your own yell echoing his as he instinctively clutches his arm. 

He can see in your face that you’re terrified. You don’t know what to do. You’re going to get hurt if he doesn’t do something. 

Without thinking, Billy jerks his horse towards yours, forcefully nudging your own horse in the direction of the nearby treeline while he pulls out his gun with his uninjured arm to help return fire. The gang scatters, most of the cattle is already out past the property line and able to be herded during the commotion. The gunshots continue but no one else gets hit, and the group hollers the entire way back to the house, adrenaline pumping from just the taste of a bit of dangerous contact. 

You stay silent the entire ride back home. So does Billy. And so does Jesse.

But the second your feet are back on the ground, you’re in trouble. 

Jesse lays into you.

“What the hell did you think you were doin’?”

“I just wanted to help!”

“Yeah? Some help you were. You distracted us! You could have gotten us all killed,”

“Them shootin’ at you had nothin’ to do with me! I deserved to be there!”

Billy sits on the top post of the paddock fence as he presses a clean cloth against the graze on his arm, watching you both as you tear at each other's throats. He’s glaring at you too, bright blue eyes piercing into the side of your face as you scream at your brother. He watches as the tears fall from your pretty eyes, twin streams cascading down your cheeks as your hands fly around you in frustration. 

A Pretty Problem. That’s what you are. 

You’re a problem when you’re shooting. Your aim is always off, missing targets by an inch and somehow never able to fix yourself enough to hit them the next time. It’s a problem how you ask him for help, your back pressing against his chest and he guides you to adjust your position. Those are the only times your bullets hit the standing cans. When he steps back and you try again, you’re back to missing, and Billy just refrains from rolling his eyes even as his body feels like it’s been touched with a live wire just from the smallest bit of contact with you.  

You’re a problem when they’re drinking, a bottle in your hand as you try your best to match their intake. The others would leave you on the floor, stepping over you when you inevitably drop from too much alcohol. It’s Billy that picks you up, wrapping his arm around your waist and carrying you to your bed. 

You’re a problem when you’re laying there, sprawled out along the sheets somewhere between sleep and forcing yourself to stay awake. The way you look up at him is a problem, eyes glassy and half-lidded as you mumble a soft ‘thanks, Billy,”. He knows he’s not a good person, no matter how hard he tries convince himself he is, but fuck - he deserves some extra points for the self restraint he has to leave you there like that. 

You’re a problem when you’re being a brat. The constant butting into conversations, volunteering for jobs and then throwing fits when you’re turned down. You’ve taken to pleading with him for support, asking him to speak on your behalf just to make your brother and the other men see sense. 

“You’re the youngest,” You say, and your eyes are wide and nearly watering as you beg. “That’s why they call you The Kid. Doesn’t that bother you? Imagine how I feel!”

And how can you even ask him to do that? You can’t even shoot right on your own. Ain’t no way he’s speaking up for you so you can go on dangerous jobs and get killed. 

No. 

You fight just as harshly as Jesse does, spewing out insults and arguing your points until you’re both blue in the face. Neither of you notice when Billy jumps off the fence and heads into the house. You make him so angry - so naive and so willing to put yourself in danger just to try to prove yourself. Jesse is right. You could have gotten them all killed today with your little stunt. If you hadn’t been there, then their attention wouldn’t have been divided. Maybe he or Jesse could have seen the cowboys up on the hill a few seconds earlier and gotten out of there without even so much as a graze. In this world, every second is important and being distracted for even a moment can cost you your life. 

He’s still stewing when you follow him into the house only a few minutes later. Your eyes are rimmed red, lips puffy from where you’ve clearly been biting them. Bad girl, he thinks as he glares at them. It’s a nervous habit you have and he’s constantly telling you to stop. The sight of your teeth biting into your bottom lip always makes him go crazy. It should be his teeth digging into it instead. 

“What?” He mumbles gruffly.

“Are you okay?”

“Got grazed by a bullet,” He says, his eyes never leaving yours even as he hooks a thumb under one of his suspenders and pulls it off his shoulder. “You think I’m okay?”

He watches you as you watch him pull the other one off too, your eyes following the fallen straps as they hang around his waist. They follow his hands back up as he undoes the buttons on his shirt, one after the other after the other until the thin material separates in the middle and he can push it off his shoulders. 

His skin feels hot under your intense gaze, and the darker more primal part of his brain wishes you would follow his lead. Undo your own suspenders, unbutton your shirt but make it slow - tease him a little bit cause that’s what you are.

A tease and a brat. And he should treat you like one. 

Instead, you’re stepping up to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Your fingers trace just below the thankfully shallow wound of the graze. “You should let me wrap this for you. So it doesn’t get infected,”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” He says in return, and his anger flares as he watches you roll your eyes. 

“God, Billy. Come on. Didn’t I get enough of this from Jesse?”

“You could have- hey!” Billy’s hand snaps out to grip your jaw, stopping you in your tracks as you turn to walk away from him. He holds you still, forcing your face to stay turned towards him as he growls. “You could have been killed today with your little stunt. You had no place there,”

Your hands clamp around his wrist trying to pry his hand off of your face and your words are determined despite the small flicker of fear present in your eyes. “I deserve to be there just as much as any of you,” 

“Oh yeah? Is that why I had to save you today?”

“You nudged me in a direction I was already goin’ to pull my horse in. I wouldn’t call that savin’,”

He pushes forward, making you shuffle back even as his hand stays firm around your chin. Your back hits the opposite wall, a pretty gasp falling from your lips from the rough movement.

“Brat,” Billy hisses as he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the wall. “You’re a troublemaker. I should tie you to your bed, keep you there - bound and out of harm’s way.”

Your breathing hitches at his words and he can feel the way your fingers clamp tighter around his wrist, those big wide eyes that torment him in his dreams staring up at him. 

“Billy,” You whisper, but he just continues his thought. 

“I’ll take care of you,” He says, voice low and quiet between the two of you but it somehow sounds deafening in the silence of the house. “Keep you fed and safe. Give you a nice blanket to keep you comfortable while you wait for me to get home.”

Billy’s hand releases your chin, calloused palms sliding down your jaw and wrapping around your throat. He can feel how you swallow thickly under his hold. 

“And you can take care of me in return,” He continues, his words almost a growl in your face as his warm breath fans across your skin. “As a reward for keeping you out of trouble.”

Even with only centimeters apart, he can barely hear you as you whisper. “Reward you how?”

And fuck, if you knew all the dirty things that play in his mind at night…

“On your knees,” He says, the hand not currently wrapped around your throat reaches up to flick off the suspender strap around your shoulder. It falls around your waist much like his did just minutes before. “On your back.” The other suspender falls like its twin. 

The sound of your heavy breathing echoes in his ears. His eyes drop to your parted lips and he’s sure that his pupils are just as large as yours are. His breathing stops in anticipation despite the fact that it's him who leans in, closing the distance between the two of you as he presses his lips against yours for the first time. 

He wants to be embarrassed by the sound he makes when he tastes you, so soft and sweet and somehow so much better than he ever imagined. Your breathing shudders when his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, but it cuts off in a soft gasp when he presses in again to kiss you harder. Need curls tightly in his gut, anger burning through his veins at you for making him feel this way. 

So on edge all the time, so unhinged. So desperate. 

The hand around your throat tightens a bit and the little squeak you let out in response has him swelling in his trousers.

“Troublemakers like you need to be put in their place,” He says, voice raw and gravely with lust. “You wanna be a big girl and ride horses all day on dangerous trips?” His nose bumps against yours, lips just barely brushing against your own as he speaks. “You can ride me instead.”

His hand leaves your throat to pull at the button on your overalls, and your own hands grip onto the tight muscles of his biceps. 

“Billy, wait,” You say, hand moving down to cover his as he pops open the buttons, but he grabs your chin in his hold again. 

Wait? Wait? You want him to fucking wait? No, you’ve already made him wait long enough. 

“Shut up!” He growls. “I’ve heard enough from you.”

His other hand manages to push down your overalls and they fall to the ground, pooling around your ankles. You whimper as his hand slides across your belly, his long fingers tracing over your soft skin as they travel down and down until they slip under the thin material of your drawers. 

“Good girls do what they’re told,” He whispers, breathing hot and heavy as he presses his mouth against your cheek, and you can feel the stubble that’s started to grow back already on his jaw scratch at your face. “I’ll have to teach you better.”

You gasp when his fingers first touch you, the gentle caress of his fingertips on your clit that has you jumping against the wall but unable to go anywhere with how he has you pinned. He groans against your cheek when he feels how wet you are already, soaking into the pads of his fingers as he circles the bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Billy,” You moan, and he kisses you harshly, cutting off the rest of your sentence if there even was more because he can’t bear the thought of you trying to get him to stop again.

No waiting. No stopping. You’re his. 

“Just be a good girl for me, okay?”

His fingers slide through your wetness, trailing slowly over your slit as his arm pushes deeper into your drawers. The tip of his finger nudges at your entrance, rubbing and teasing against your dripping hole for a moment before pushing inside you, and fuck - you feel so tight around him already. Your pussy clenches around his finger as he moves it inside of you, sweet cries ripping from your throat when he adds another, stretching you more as he curls his fingers against your slick walls. 

He muffles your moans with his lips, and he can’t help but push his hips against you, pressing the thick bulge in his pants against your thigh for some relief. 

Damn you, he thinks. Damn you and your driven attitude, bad shooting, sweet demeanor, and pretty face. Jesse could kill him for this. Jesse would, and he would deserve it. But this is your fault. Your. Fault. You tempted him like this. Threw him off his game and destroyed his self control just by being you and he hates you for it. 

Your moans are a constant now, turning into desperate whines of “Billy, please! Oh, god, please!” as he watches you greedily hump his hand. He’s throbbing in his pants, cock pulsing with need and heavy as he presses harder against your thigh. He’s not going to last long - not with the way you look right now and the way he knows you're going to feel wrapped around his cock just from how you feel clamping around his fingers right now. 

You’re not going to last much longer either, and his fingers thrust inside you faster, thumb rolling over your clit as he pushes you closer and closer towards that edge.

Come on, pretty girl. Be good for me.

He’s never touched you this way before, but it’s like he knows your body inside and out already. The look on your face tells him you’re about to cum, and he wants to see it - wants to see it so badly to see if it matches the same look you have when he makes you cum in his dreams - but he wants to make you suffer. Just a little bit more. Like you make him suffer. 

The cry of protest you make when he pulls his hand away is beautiful, as is the way your eyes widen when he brings the soaked digits to his mouth, sucking your taste from them and fuuuuckkk you taste so good. Of course, you taste this good. 

He kisses you again, sliding his tongue inside your mouth against yours just to make you taste yourself too as he undoes the buttons on his own pants. The restricting material is gone in seconds along with both of your underwear. His hand grips your hip, squeezing the flesh between his fingers before dragging his hand along the curve of your ass and down the back of your thigh.

In one swift movement, he has your leg hooked around his hip and his cock positioned at your entrance. 

“Wait,” You whimper, looking up at him with those beautiful big eyes of yours. “I’ve never–”

“I’ll take care of you,” He says, slowly pushing himself forward. The clench of your pussy as he works his cock inside you feels like heaven, slick walls squeezing him tight as he fills you up. 

Your arms wrap tightly around his neck as he sinks in, face digging into his neck to muffle your soft cry. A pang of guilt shoots through him at your pain. He doesn’t want you hurt. You’re a brat and a troublemaker, but he’s only ever wanted to keep you safe. But the more primal part of his brain keens at the idea. 

It’s your first time. He’s your first. You’re his. Only his.

His good girl.

His pretty problem.

He wants to fuck you hard, wants his hips snapping against yours so hard they leave bruises. Wants you crying against his mouth, moans and whimpers so uncontrollable that your brother and the rest of the gang hears them from outside from how loud you’re being. He’s not going to last long, he was right about that. His hips move slowly against yours, cock dragging against your walls as he pulls out until just the tip is left buried in your cunt. 

Your small whines of pain quickly turn into pleasure as he rocks into you, your warmth hugging his cock so tightly he thinks you might be trying to keep him buried inside you forever. He fucks you faster, pressing you harder against the wall as he claims your lips again. His fingers find the sensitive nub between your legs, rough fingertips circling your clit relentlessly until your panting against his mouth. He greedily swallows your squeal when you cum around him, cunt forming a tight and unforgiving blissful prison around his cock as you drench him and his fingers. 

He moans with you, hips stuttering and inconsistent as your orgasm triggers his. He holds your face against his, his other hand clutching your hip as he holds you still, not letting you run away from him even if you try as he spills himself inside you, painting your walls white.

It’s quiet in the room as you both come down from your high, just the sounds of panting as you both try to catch your breath. He should pull out. Anyone could just walk in at any moment and catch you, but he grits his teeth at the thought of having to move away from you. He’d die happily inside you if he could. So, he takes another moment, letting himself revel in the feel of your still pulsing walls around his length as he lays his forehead against yours.

“You’re goin’ to keep being my good girl, right?” He says softly into the space between you. “Stay out of trouble?”

And despite the exhausted look on your face, when your eyes meet his, all he sees is that strong-willed defiance.

A pretty problem indeed.

[cervvsq]

rules.

18+ — MDNI.

president!coryo x firstlady!reader

summary: you disobey one of coryo’s rules, and the punishment goes too far.

WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat (kinda), rape, somnophilia, spanking, p in v, alcohol use, hair pulling, ANGST. any more lmk! please READ AT OWN RISK.

coriolanus was an extremely ambitious man. he was calculated, authoritative, and knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. no wonder he made such a powerful president.

so when you came along, he made sure you would fall right into his trap.

coriolanus would like to think he had trained you — trained you to be his perfect, obedient, little wife. a dazzling first lady which had the capitol admiring the two of you. over the past few months of being betrothed to coriolanus — not only had he learned and taught you who you were, how to be — but you had discovered things about him as well. maybe he wouldn’t see it just yet, maybe not ever, but you saw. You saw how he had adjusted to you. your needs. that gave you some sort of comfort as you obeyed all of his needs without complaint.

to any ‘normal person’, you would think, would be absolutely tortured at being ripped away from normal life, to live with an arrogant, narcissistic and (most likely) sadistic man. even if that man was the most handsome, wealthy man in the whole capitol.

so why did you find such pleasure in this involuntary marriage?

maybe it was the soft touches coriolanus would smooth over you whenever he touched you. no, it couldn’t be, because the calm yet threatening words which would leave his lips did not send any sense of comfort throughout you at all. it was always the same message, in different words. “never, ever try to leave me.” would be the warning. the demand. the threat of what would happen if you dared to was not something you would like to find out.

maybe it was the contrast to that. the harsh touches combined with the gentle words. when his fingers would leave deep marks in your hips as he roughly abused your cunt, not stopping even when tears were in your eyes. in fact, that only spurred him on faster to bring you to your climax. it would pain you, his thrusts, his grip, but the words leaving his lips made the raw fucking blissful. no matter what it was. “mm, that’s it. that’s my girl. such a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you?” he would say as another cruel spank would land on your pink ass. “oh, baby…” he would coo into your ear, almost patronising. in fact, it was patronising. getting treated like a child every single day but still being expected to live up to his pathetic rules. but all frustration would be seeped out of you by the end of the night.

whatever it was that lingered a growing fondness for whatever was between you — you didn’t want it to end.

it was so frustrating to admit at first, but there was no denying — even in his sick, twisted ways — coriolanus was a good husband. no wonder you had grown to like this life, you would tell yourself. coriolanus would constantly shower you with riches.

whether it was expensive, rare, or near impossible to get, coriolanus would command every one of his workers to search the entire planet if they have to, to get what you wanted. only on one condition, though: never leave him.

you learned this a couple weeks ago. and oh, how coriolanus made you remember.

it was at the dinner just before the important gala, and wealthy husbands with their cheap wives were all sat surrounding the table in coriolanus’ manor. you recognised no one, but had taken quite a liking to the wife of felix ravenstill. a man coriolanus disliked heavily — but anyone would chop their left arm off to have some sort of connections with the president.

that was one strike, anyway — associating with someone who coriolanus did not give permission to. you knew this when you felt coriolanus’ hand tighten on your thigh when you smiled gracefully at felix.

the second was when you and felix’s wife began to converse. specifically about something coriolanus did not care for — vacations. to him, vacations were useless and a waste of stress. “why leave the place where you already have anything and everything you need?” he would say to you whenever you asked. but you knew the real reason was because the risk of losing you if you travelled anywhere else was higher.

mrs. ravenstill laughed heartily at a comment you made. “oh, you should join me! i’m going travelling out of panem soon, whilst my husband is dealing with work. it would be a delight to have you there, mrs snow.”

you didn’t catch the way coriolanus’ jaw clenched, the way his eyes were staring daggers into the woman’s unknowing face. the way he had stranded his conversation mid way as soon as he heard those words directed towards you. the audacity that woman had to try and take you from him. his knuckles were as white as his last name, and your response sent sizzling rage through him.

oblivious of your husbands bubbling anger, you simply nodded and smiled wider. “that would be wonderfu--“

“unfortunately, my wife and i have many plans over the next few weeks. my apologies.” snow cut in, speaking over you as if you weren’t there. no one batted an eye to this, and if they did, nobody on the planet would think to correct the president.

your heart dropped faster than you could process. you knew that tone. you knew that seething look in his eyes. you knew all too well of the painful grip on your thigh underneath the table. shit. fuckfuckfuck. how could you be this stupid? your expression fell cold as you dreaded what was going to happen once everyone left.

swallowing down the fear hollowing your entire body, you smiled, but this time it didn’t reach your eyes. not able to get your words out, you nodded, taking a shaky sip of your wine which lasted a little longer than usual.

after the slow, agonising hour left of the dinner, the time finally came. by then, you had already drank 3 glasses of wine, and saying you were tipsy was an understatement. you would most likely be in trouble for that too, but you didn’t care at this point.

as soon as the last person left the grand double doors, coriolanus grabbed you and pinned you against the wall so harshly your head slammed against it. you were internally thankful for that alcohol you had drank, otherwise you most likely would’ve already been shuddering in pain. but all you did was giggle as he glared down at you, your head leaning forward to rest against his chest drunkenly.

“lift your fucking head up when i speak to you.” he growled, his voice on an edge. it was clear he wasn’t playing these silly games.

you mumbled incoherently, which angered him further. without warning, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and ragged your head up to look at him, his jaw ticking with the way your pupils were dilated and the lazy smile on your parted lips. it was clear your drunken state found this all very amusing.

“fuck..” coriolanus cursed under his breath as he saw your behaviour. he was a smart man. he knew whatever he said or did to punish you for tonight, it wouldn’t mean anything. you would simply wake up with a sore body (and a red ass), not learnt anything. and even if seeing you bent over his knee, whimpers and mewls leaving your throat as his hand came down repeatedly onto you does get him off, the point was so you learn. so you learn not to make a fucking fool of the president as his dutiful wife. so you learn who exactly is in charge.

throwing you over his shoulder, earning another slurred giggle from you, he walked upstairs.

you don’t remember anything after that.

the last thing you remember of that night haunted you up until this day.

you remember waking up, head all hazy and body internally screaming with fight or flight response. confused, and barely able to form a thought, you opened your eyes.

you vividly remember coriolanus on top of you, his rough hand firmly pressing against your neck as he pounded into you relentlessly. he seemed to not have realised you had become conscious, because his head was still thrown back, groans and grunts escaping his throat. fear rattled through your squirming body. flashes of him on top of you came peering through your vision in between the black spots as you slowly felt yourself losing consciousness again. you couldn’t breathe. the closer he got to his climax, the tighter his hand was around your neck.

somehow, you managed to gather up all the remaining strength you had, sinking your teeth into his shoulder harshly. this must’ve caught him off guard, as the last thing you heard was his loud grunt of pain before you passed out again.

he had raped you.

hehadrapedyouhehadrapedyouhehadrapedyouhehadrapedyouhehadrapedyou.

that was an ongoing loop throughout your mind. a broken radio, incessant, timeless. you woke up to him cradling you in his arms, and you immediately felt sick. but you didn’t dare move — your body wouldn’t allow you to. and thats when you realised something — something so scarce, so outlandish, it had you doing the same.

coriolanus snow was crying. the president of panem, the man who had killed dozens of people and millions more to come, was crying.

his usual stone cold demeanour had vanished, now replaced with quiet sobs that racked through his body. the constant, “‘m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” ’s that he whispered into your hair. you didn’t say anything. you didn’t move. you didn’t even dare to breathe. this was all so excruciating and unusual, your own cries began coming out and joining his as one.

neither of you mentioned it once.

but you could tell he knew. he knew what he had done, and he knew you knew. and worst of all, the toll it was taking on you was agonising.

a flinch would rack through you whenever his hand brushed over your neck, and God forbid what was going to happen when you two have sex again. neither of you had touched each other sexually since then, only small, gentle kisses and delicate touches.

you hadn’t conversed that you didn’t want him to go back to his old ways — the punishments, the bdsm. but he knew. you both knew.

you could see the effect it was having on coriolanus, too. ever since then, he had been treating you like you were a fragile glass doll, ready to shatter any second.

he spent way more time at work now, yet still made sure your needs were satisfied every 30 minutes. he never once raised his voice or displayed any anger towards you if you accidentally broke one of his precious rules — well, if he was angry, he definitely didn’t show it. but you noticed every little thing. you noticed the eyebags slowly growing underneath his eyes even though he would come to bed the same time as you every night. you noticed when he would come down for dinner with red eyes and ruffled hair. you noticed how, behind his eyes, he was scared every time he touched you.

you noticed how he had bought a whole new bed because he couldn’t bear the thought of what he did to you on the old one.

[littlemissmiller]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓

Pairing: dark! billy the kid x reader

Summary: when billy makes it to Lincoln country, he’s betting on the fact that no one knows who he is or what he’s done, but you do. at a poker game one night, he spots you and just has to escort you back…

Warning: 21+ (drinking and smoking), fluff, smut, choking, degradation( use of whore), dark! billy, dom! billy, rough sex, oral (m receiving), dirty talk

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: hi :) soooo this was inspired by last week’s episode where he says “looking for me…here i am” yeah that scene was so hot like 🥵 (i plan on watching the new episode tomorrow or tonight but i work 12 hr hospital shifts y’all so bare with me) anyways, i wrote this quick lil fic for y’all! it’s dark. it’s hot. like ghost pepper hot 🌶️ and…i have a billy request coming soon but i wanted to get this out since i got inspired soooo enjoy enjoy enjoy ♥︎

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It is a clean, quiet night in Lincoln County. Billy is just getting to know the place and is wary. Wary about who did and didn’t know of his past here, but at least he’s been given a chance to start over. At least he thinks. As he walks into the Saloon for a drink, he cautiously looks around. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. A few patrons sitting at the bar, a few poker games happening at various tables. The evening seems perfectly normal. Then something catches his eye. You. You’re at a back table, a fat stack of chips in front of you and a wide smirk on your face. Billy is all too intrigued. You look at him, biting your lip and batting your eyes. He notices your attention towards him and strides. forward.

“Howdy ma’am.” He tips his hat “Deal me in Sam.” He states, eyes focusing intently on your own.

You can’t help but gawk at him slightly. The faint dim of the lights shadow his handsome features, outlining his jaw, nose and lips. His ocean blue eyes practically melt you and you cross your legs to manage the throbbing heat.

“You look familiar” you speak up

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing” Billy asks

“I think it’s a good thing.” You smile deviantly

He smiles back, cocking his head and looking at his cards.

“So you’ve seen me around then?”

“In one way or another…”

As the round starts, you watch Billy closely, looking at his body language to speak to you. He looks at his cards again and shows no expression on his face. He places his bet and glances up at you. You look at your cards. A straight. You place your bet, matching Billy’s. You reveal your cards and then he shows you his. Three of a kind.

“Oh sorry baby…” you mock, taking his chips happily

The next round starts and this time Billy is able to win some of his chips back with a straight of his own. The game continues for a few more rounds until it comes down to you and Billy. You look at your cards. You’re one card away from a straight flush. The best hand you’ve had all night and you take your chances. You go all in. Billy looks at his card emotionless, matching your actions.

“What’s your game, cowboy?” You ask

“To win...” he quips back

You grin and show your cards. The small crowd around you lets out a few small gasps

“Well what ya got then?”

Billy keeps his eyes firmly on you as he reveals his own cards. The crowd gasps again. Royal flush. You gasp in awe, a look of disappointment spreading on your face. Your heart sinks and he slides your chips back towards him.

“Good game ma’am” he states, sticking out his hand.

You take it and he raises it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“Can I walk ya home?” He asks and you nod.

You follow him to his horse and he rides you back to your home. You rent a small apartment above the local post office and invite him upstairs. Once in your apartment, Billy takes off his hat, setting it on the table and taking a seat on your couch.

“I got whiskey Mr…”

“Bonney, my name is William Bonney.”

You smile and introduce yourself.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance” you grin, getting out a couple of glasses and pouring you each a glass of whiskey.

“What brings you to Lincoln?” You ask

“Looking for a fresh start.” He remarks

“Oh yeah” you state, taking a seat next to him.

He takes a sip of his whiskey, eyeing you. He can’t help but let them trail down your body, fixated on your cleavage for a moment before finding your eyes once again.

“So what’s a beautiful thing such as yourself doing playing cards?”

“Who doesn’t like extra money…” you sip your drink

“Well what do you do for work?” He asks

“Right now, help out with my daddy’s storefront. What about you?”

“Nothing right now, but I’m looking to do some cattle ranching…”

“That can make good money.”

“It can, I still feel bad for taking yours…

“Don’t. You play fair. Don’t cheat.”

You take another drink, feeling warm as the brown liquid pours down your throat like fire.

“Yes, but I still feel bad taking from a lady like that.”

“Well why don’t you make it up to me then?”

He cups your face, leans in and places a chaste kiss on your lips. He starts slow, gentle, his mouth moving passionately. You set your drink down and clasp the back of his neck. You let his lips overtake your own, moving your mouth in sync with his. You’ve never been kissed like this before. You can taste his desires, the way he wants to utterly devour you, yet handle you with care, at first. He pulls back and looks at you.

“That work for ya?” He asks sweetly

“It might. But what else do you got for me Mr. Bonney?”

“You can call me Billy….” He inserts

“Billy” you repeat, whispering

“So tell me then doll? What else can I do to make it up? How do you like it?” He asks

You bite your lip at such a bold question, and scoot closer to him.

“I want you to take control of me Billy, take control, wrangle me like one of them bulls.”

A dark, lustful gaze clouds over his eyes and he smirks at the request, amused by your own brashness. He nods and wraps a hand around your waist standing you up.

“Where’s your bedroom doll?” He grits, brushing his thumb along your chin, still gripping you tightly.

“In here” you point to the room behind you and he pushes you back, capturing your mouth as he does. You move until you hit the back of your bed, legs giving out on the edge of the mattress. He pushes you down, stripping himself of his suspenders, and quickly undoing his shirt. He rips it off, tossing it to the ground, revealing his perfectly toned figure. Billy wastes no time getting your clothes off as well, pulling your dress down your shoulders, exposing your breasts.

“You sure you want me like how you asked darling, I may not be able to hold myself back once I start.”

“Please, take me…”

“Fuck” he breathes, stripping you even more from your dress.

He cups your breast harshly, groping, pinching, and squeezing at them. You mewl and whine under him. He leans down, wrapping his lips around your nipple, replacing his fingers with the sucking and pulling of his lips. You moan loudly, your cries filling the room and he aggressively ravishes your chest, going from one side to the other. You hold the back of his head, loving the feeling of how his soft, chocolate brown locks pass through your fingers. Billy has other plans.

He takes your hands from the back of his head, gripping your wrists tightly, and holding them above your head in one hand. He grunts and looks directly into your eyes.

“You want me to wrangle ya pretty girl? Hmm, is that what you want?”

You nod and he pushes his mouth back against your own, pressing on you sternly. He gives you harsh, quick, forceful pecks that leave you wanting more. Your lips try and stay on his but he keeps pulling away too fast for you to enjoy it. Just enough to leave you wanting more. The grip on your wrist becomes tighter, and you whine. The hand that is still manipulating your breasts moves to recapture your throat. You gasp and he gives you a squeeze.

“Keep your hands above your head.” He instructs, loosening his grip and moving his hand to cup your face.

He continues to choke you in one hand, the other caressing your chin.

“Open your mouth.” He commands, tapping your jaw and you obey.

He spits furiously into your mouth. You swallow. The pad of his thumb trails your bottom lip. He scoffs at you in amusement, his cocky grin showing just how much he likes doing this to you. And you like him being rough with you. He coos at you, sticking his fingers in your mouth. You suck and lick them and he shoves them further down your throat. You gag, prompting Billy to chuckle sinfully.

“Ya gonna gag on my length like that?“

You nod and he unbuckles his pants, hastily removing his fingers from your mouth to his belt buckle. You wiggle out of the rest of your dress, becoming completely bare for him. The dress falls off the bed and onto the floor. Then, he commands you to get on all fours and you do. He pulls his pants down, cock popping out in front of your face, as he gets onto his knees. You gawk up at him and take him in your hand. He’s so full and long, making your core throb thinking about it being inside you. You stroke him, and as you do, he tangles his finger through your hair, holding your face. He takes himself back in his hand, tapping the tip of his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You part your lips and look at him, doe eyed. You wrap your lips around the tip, and start to slowly bob your head, still jerking him off as you do. He tilts his head back momentarily then looks back at you. You sink your lips down further and further until the tip hits the back of your throat. You slowly pull back then move down again. You speed up and Billy shoves the back of your head and moves you on his dick. He groans, enjoying how perfectly your lips fit around him.

“Fuck that’s it.”

He rocks his hips and you gag.

“That’s it on gag on my cock doll.”

You pull back for a moment to breathe, but Billy shoves himself back in. He ruts into you a few more times before pulling out. You gasp and he grabs your chin, pulling you up to his face.

“Such a good little thing ain’t ya.”

“Still feel bad about taking my money now?”

“Nah…cause this is what you want right. You need a man to keep you on edge. You like it, I can tell…” he whispers , pressing his lips against the shell of your earlobe and kissing it. You nod and he grips your face tighter.

“Now, wanna show me that cute ass of yours darling.”

You nod again and turn around to crawl back onto all fours. You stick your butt out at him and he moans. He grabs your ass cheek in one hand, loving how the meaty fresh look in-between his fingers. He gives it a slap and you yelp slightly. Then, he slicks his length against your folds. You whine and mewl at the sensation until he shoves it into you, slowly sliding in until he bottoms out.

Greedy, he speeds ups, hips and balls slapping against your ass. He loves watching it bounce and jiggle. He loves to grope it, play with it. He continues his pace, his cock teasing your cervix over and over. He bends down, leaving a trail of fiery kisses down your back. Wanting more he pulls you back up with him. He holds you flush against his chest, fucking up into you.

“Tell me something. You knew who I was didn’t ya?” He snarls

“You’re William Antrim, I’ve seen your wanted posters before…”

You nod, gasping to breathe as his hand slithers up to choke you. Billy’s teeth grazed your earlobe and you barely registered his voice as he spoke to you.

“You know I’m a wanted man darling, wanted in several counties…” he breathes

You nod.

“And there are a lot of people looking for me, yet here I am. Fucking you like a common whore, just because she likes the taste of dangerous men.”

He snakes his arm around to play with your clit and you're nearly done for. You squirm and writhe against his body, and he continues to play with you. Torture and overwhelm your senses. He pushes you back down and starts to give you more forceful, precise thrusts with his cock. He deliberately bounces you against him, no longer needy and sloppy. He pounds you, rocking you and the bed. The sounds of your collective pleasure fill the room. He pulls out, guiding you from your stomach to your back. He wastes no time and resumes his actions. He splays his hand over your tummy, knowing that he’s about to spill his load out onto you. But not until you come for him. He pushes down on your pelvis, the pressure adding to your pleasure.

“Are you going to cum for me darling ?”

“Mhmm, I’m so close please…”

He moves his hand back down to your clit, swirling the little nub. Your face scrunches up and your mouth falls open. You’ve never had a man make you feel this good before. So euphoric, caught on a high you want to ride over and over again. Then you feel yourself fall fully into the pleasure of his hand and cock. Squeezing him tight, you let yourself go, the tight knot in your stomach blissfully unraveling. Soon, Billy is finishing too, letting his white, warm, cum splatter your stomach. He uses your body like a canvas and when he’s completely spent he moves off the bed, cock in hand. He searches for something to wipe you both off.

“The wash rag in that basin is just fine love.” You remark

He takes it, cleans himself, then crawls back on the bed and over you. He kisses you gently, then both your cheeks, and washes you off. After he tosses it to the ground and holds your face, giving you one last kiss. He starts to stand back up, finding the rag and cleaning himself up some more.

“Got any smokes dear?” You ask and he nods

He finds his pants and digs around for a pack and a match box. He finds both, walking them to you and taking one for himself. He lights yours, then his own.

“Thanks, you gonna stay?”

“If you want” he takes a seat “I’m still getting settled in so right now I’m renting a room. You said your father is a shopkeeper around here…”

“Yeah. You been by Tunstall’s yet?”

꧁✧✥✧꧂

[floralcyanide]

stealing billy’s hat to wear it. thoughts? 🎤🎤🎤🎤

mwahahah see we all know what it means when someone steals a cowboy’s hate 🤭 so I feel like when reader does it, they’re making a statement in front of billy’s friends and the whole bar. he gives you a look of confusion at first until he realizes the playfulness glowing in your eyes and the smirk on your lips.

“excuse me fellas,” billy stands up from his seat, “but it looks like a cowgirl wants to go for a ride.”

had to add this pic because look at the baby okay bye

[slutforsnow]

Skin Don't Matter To Me

Quick a/n before the fic gets started; I am SO SO SORRY to those who were upset/uncomfortable/angry that I made the original billy x black!reader a former slave!reader. I didn't think. I shouldn't have been up at 1am writing. It was horrid and a terrible decision on my end. Forgive me or not, is entirely up to you. Ty to the anons who called me out for it and made me realize it was wrong to do that, biracial or not. I hope you can forgive me 🫂

Tw/CW: insecurities, anxiety, racism is brought up (not comments, just behavior).

Summary: Reader gets insecure about her relationship with Billy after seeing some girls flirt with him.

It was a chill Saturday evening in the saloon as patrons drank, played poker, and chatted absent-mindly. It was an easy night, for sure, aside from a few drunken snide comments made towards reader, but she shrugged them off. After all, she wasn't getting paid to fight the customers.

As she hummed and wiped down the bar, which was currently empty, she stopped midway to wipe some sweat off her face—reader loves her afro, and has no problems pulling it back so she didn't sweat to death while she worked, but some nights it was just too hot and having so many people out and about the saloon was making it harder to deal with.

Her dark skin shone in sweat as she worked but didn't complain. She had to make a livin' somehow, and she wasn't gonna do that by moanin' and groanin'.

As she resumed her work, she flashed a smile towards her boyfriend as he played poker. He was in his favorite seat, watching her work as he placed his bets and ignored the other girls hitting on him and trying to get his attention. He was technically working as well—he and his boys were security for the saloon because some of the customers were still quite horrid to the folks of color who worked, especially the women. They'd try to threaten y/n but were often silenced or kicked out by Billy and his men.

Y/n and Billy had been dating for 2 years, despite the ups and downs of him being a cowboy and the racism she'd face for being a black woman.

As she worked, still humming, she caught sight of some white girls being all touchy and whispering things in his ear. She bit her tongue as to not cause a scene and focused on continuing to grab glasses and wipe down tables.

'He'd never leave me. He's said that,' She thought to herself as a reminder that Billy would never leave her for some white girl. She was his, and he was hers. Yet, despite the constant love and affection he would give her, she still got that nagging fear that he would leave her.

A few hours later, Y/n's shift had ended and the couple were headed back home to the ranch that they bought with their savings over the course of their relationship. Y/n was silent the whole way home, which made Billy worry that he did something wrong.

"Darlin' did I do somethin' wrong?" He asked, setting his hat on a hook by the door as he shut the door behind him.

A lump formed in her throat and she sighed, knowing he'd keep asking if she said nothing.

"It wasn't you, Billy it... it's just my fears," She answered, trying to dismiss her fears.

"Well, what's wrong? It won't go away unless you talk to me."

Damn his smooth and relaxing tone- she didn't want to talk about it, afraid it would turn into an argument about his loyalties but he was so understanding that she knew she she couldn't hide it from him.

"Those... those damn whores that keep touchin' on you like you're not taken," She told him, sighing. "I know it's probably stupid or somethin-"

"Oh thank the Lord, I was hoping you'd bring this up," He breathed out, letting out a relaxed laugh and earning a perplexed look from y/n.

"...What?"

"I've been wanting to tell you about that. I never wanted to stress you out, but I hate, and I mean absolutely fuckin' hate when they do that. It gets so annoyin', I tell them I'm taken and to back off, but do they listen? No." As Billy continued to ramble about how he hated the other women touching and talking to him like he wasn't a taken man, she smiled.

He was so vocal about how much he hated it when they touched and flirted with him that it eased her worried soul and she hugged him tightly.

Fucking hell, she loves this man so much.

[violetpixiedust]

part 2 to this drabble, can also be read as a stand-alone. billy the kid x innocent! burlesque! reader. smut. (18+) ౨ৎ

warm candlelight bathes your small boarding room in a honey amber shade, emitting molten sunlight. billy’s glossy eyes hold the spring skies as he gazes up at you, entranced as your now loose locks tumble down your shoulders, free of any accessories. your stage makeup has since been wiped down to a less intense look, only accentuating your favourite features.

billy still reckons you look like an angel.

he’s sat at the edge of your double bed, dipping into the tough mattress. his denim clad legs are spread shoulder width apart, boots unlaced- hat, suspenders and gun holster strewn to the side table. a tense breath leaves him as your near bare figure straddles his hips, serene silhouette decorated with lacy lingerie. your manicured hand slips between the open lapels of his half unbuttoned shirt, palm laying flat against his heart, feeling the steady thump, thump, thump, quicken with every moment that passes. butterfly wings tickle your ribs causing you to shiver lightly, billy’s calloused fingertips dancing up the outsides of your spine as your sides meld within the curve of his thumbs.

you gently lead him to lie down, releasing an airy soprano sigh when you feel the brunette man harden against the lace of your panties, arching your back. billy unconsciously bucks his hips up, desperately torn between wanting to take his time with you- as difficult as it may be for a man like him, and wanting to ruin you. one of his sun-kissed hands brush up the length of your arm, a whisper of a smile ghosting his chapped lips as he cups your petal soft face within his rough palm. you follow him down, a joint moan intertwining within the approaching autumn air as your lips finally connect. you taste of sweet liqueur, something floral and bubbly, while the sharp taste of billy’s cheap whisky cuts through your kiss, prompting your nimble fingers to begin unbuttoning the rest of the man’s indigo shirt.

“wearing too many clothes, cowboy.” a teasing giggle leaves your stained lips, causing billy to smirk in amusement before he helps you remove his top, quickly discarding it to the hardwood floor. you can’t help but bite along the plush skin of your bottom lip when your warm gaze meets the sight of his toned, tanned muscle. from his shoulders, to his biceps, his torso.. billy tilts his forehead down to touch yours, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“not gettin’ shy on me now, are ya, doll?” you try shaking your head, but the steady weight of billy’s large hand against the back of your neck stops you from doing so. he stares at you intensely, and you realize he’s waiting for a verbal confirmation.

“no.” it’s meek, unbelievable. you try again, straightening your posture as best you can in his hold as you tremble within yourself, anticipation crackling between the two of you like a bonfire. “no, billy.”

he kisses you again, devouring you this time, seeming pleased by your answer. you can’t help but moan softly against his lips, twisting your fingers within his greasy locks as his tongue brushes into your open mouth. billy swears he’s never been in the presence of a woman as angelic as you, convinced he’s dreaming as you melodically moan his name like a prayer.

it isn’t until he’s stripped down to his drawers, kissing down the column of your daisy scented throat- simultaneously leaving a path of stubble burn in his wake, that your small hand brushes past his abdomen. you feel his strong thighs jerk below you at the feeling of your gentle fingertips along his privates, whisky breath hot against your jugular as he groans deep within his throat. “don’ have to do that, angel- i-“ you’re already sliding down to your knees, sure to get splinters from the old hardwood below you, but it’s worth it to see billy’s eyes roll back into his skull at the sight of you. praying at his alter. he wants to tell you that you shouldn’t have to do this. that sweet girls like you deserve to be treated with respect and pampered endlessly, taken care of just like his paw taught him- but billy’s not a strong man, not when it comes to restraining himself from getting what he desires. he’s never been able to.

your heart is beating in your ears as you carefully peel back the final layer, doe eyes fluttering when you finally meet the sight of it. it’s the prettiest one you’ve ever seen by far, out of the two previous. rosy at the tip, a bit paler compared to the rest of billy’s complexion, dark curls smattering the base, a touch wild. long. a pearly bead of ivory dribbles down his mushroom tip, and you can’t help but catch it with the tip of your soft tongue before it’s wasted, shivering at the salty taste. a startled moan escapes the man above you, thighs jerking as a shuttered breath rattles through him. “oh fuck, honey. d-do that again-“

the crotch of your panties become slick at the whining melody of billy pleading for your touch, your mind slowly fading away as you fleetingly attempt to remember what your burlesque sisters had taught you. no teeth, hollow cheeks, wet lips, and don’t forget, relax your throat- you lick a stripe up the base of the man in front of you, eager to please. billy can’t help but white knuckle the sheets below him, expression twisting as he restrains himself from thrusting up into the haven of your warm, wet mouth. you feel like heaven. languid, attentive-

it isn’t until he’s halfway between your lips that you suck, and he’s instantly scrambling.

“shit, shit, shit- h- honey- get off.” billy manages to groan out, pulling your tight little mouth off of him before he accidentally blows his load. a growl barely hides itself in the back of his throat when he hears you whine at the loss of him, unable to stop himself from manhandling you back onto the bed as you squeak. “need these off, doll. please.”

it’s quiet for a moment- besides the rustling of the earth past the smudged window, a few drunken howls from down below disappearing into the inky sky. you cup billy’s face despite his large hand encasing your wrist, watching as his pleading expression fades into delight when you nod giddily. his fingers toy with the satin closure of your bra, searching your hazy gaze for any hesitance before pulling, undoing the flimsy garment. billy has half the foresight to haphazardly toss the lacy piece of clothing away, narrowly missing the flame of a candlestick as his cobalt eyes shamelessly rake over your frame. he can’t help but run his calloused hands over the smooth mounds of your chest, tentatively squeezing, before his thumbs flick your nipples experimentally. the outlaw’s lips part in awe as your back arches perfectly in response, hungrily kissing up your sternum with soft breaths in between, toned arms curling behind your back to keep up his loving assault. “christ, angel. you’re perfect-“ he mumbles against your chest, eyes falling closed as you rake your nails over his shoulders, travelling up his neck, before finally scratching his scalp in a way that has his pelvis thrusting into the empty comfort of your cotton sheets, hissing. “need to taste you.”

a trembling moan escapes your swollen lips at billy’s raspy declaration. you had only heard stories from your burlesque sisters about men who put their mouths on women there. it was foreign to you. a feeling you couldn’t possibly imagine until billy hooks his fingers beneath your lacy panties, gently kissing down your tummy as if you were made of glass, till he was able to pull the skimpy fabric down at eye level. you hear him swear, quickly pushing yourself up onto your elbows before he meets your eyes, sky blue now steel grey with desire. wordlessly, he licks a stripe between your folds.

you’re hooked. caught within billy’s trap when his tongue swirls around the pearl of your clit with precision, alighting your being with shameless desire for the man below you. your soprano moans fill the night air as your thighs shamelessly lock around billy’s ears, his strong arms anchoring around the muscles to keep you in place. “fuck. y’taste like peaches.” billy mumbles blissfully against your pussy, devouring you like a man starved. you can’t help the ringing in your ears, the blood pumping to your core as your hips helplessly arch into the outlaw’s face, his large nose brushing just where you need him the most, sending you over the edge.

billy groans at the sweetness that emits from your core, lapping it up as best he could without completely losing his rapidly withering restraint. “need you inside of me, billy.” the outlaw’s neck nearly cracks with how quickly he looks up at you. you’re ethereal. a light glow of mist dusting your complexion, illuminated by the ever dying candlelight. he watches as your lashes flutter gradually, practically fanning through sticky molasses. billy nods, placing a final few kisses up the inside of your thighs- barely hiding his smirk when you twitch with sensitivity- your torso, till he reaches your lips, whispering as gently as his baritone voice would allow him to.

“lay back.”

you want to be consumed by billy forever, you think, fleetingly.

you just don’t know that the outlaw is already doing everything in his power to make it so.

[asmutwriter]

Outlaws (Part 1)

DESCRIPTION: Managing to get away from your past you stumble across a small town. Inside you meet the acquaintance of Billy the Kid

WORD COUNT: 2761

Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: swearing, threat, guns

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

It will not follow the timeline of the show. But I hope you enjoy.

Not been proof read

You start walking along the road. Hearing the steps of horse hooves on the ground. You turn, seeing a gentlemen riding along. A cart being pulled behind. You wave your arm out, causing him to slow down. "You ok miss?" you smile at the older gentlemen.

"I was wondering where you were driving to?"you reach itno a small purse on your waist, pulling out a couple of notes as he talks

"Just a small town a few miles away for work" You hold them out to him.

"Could you drive me there please?". He looks at the small wad of cash, at the gun around your waist, then at your face. Nodingg he scoots over on his cart. You smile, hitching your skirt up slightly as you get onto it.

Making small talk with the man as he drives you both there. You hop down from the cart as you arrive, waving at him before walking around the town. Hands clasped neatly behind your back as you wonder around.

You see a few kids playing. Men outside a bar drinking. Some more men smoking. Woman emptying a bucket of dirty water. Another woman walking with a load of laundry. You watch as a couple of men start to follow the woman with the laundry. You tilt your head slightly. Walking after them slowly, trying to make it obvious you werent following but wanting to be quick enough to prevent anything from happening.

WHen you get down the end you see the men have surrounded her. There were three men in total, one seemed to be the leader. Going over to her and going to stroke her cheek. You watch as she moves away from his touch. His deminear changing to a more aggressive one at the rejection. You speak loudly as you walk confidently.

"There you are!" you go overe to the woman. Linking an arm with hers "I was wondering where you had got to" the men back away slightly, eyeing you up to. You look at them, resting a hand near your waist. Not threatening them but making their eyes aware of the gun hanging from your belt. "Sorry to interfere gentlemen but I need to steal my dear friend from you" you smile at them, walking with the woman. Quickly.

Going out into the public space with her. SHe puts the washing down onto an outside table. "Thank you" she speaks softly

"Will you be ok now?" you ask. She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. Nodding slightly as you nod and smile, going to walk off again. SHe grabs your wrist, dropping it quickly as you turn to face her again

"Whats youre name?"

"Hope" she nods. Smiling softly at you as she brings her hand up, resting it on her chest lightly before putting her hand back down

"Kathleen". You nod and smile, titling your head slightly

"Its been a pleasure meeting you Kathleen" you go to walk again but she taes a step towards you

"Ive not seen you around here before? Ive been here a while so I recognise the locals"

"I arrived not to long ago. I wont be staying long though, just passing through" she nods

"How long are you staying for?"

"About a week" she nods. Thinking for a moment.

"Why dont you stay with me and my family for the week?"

"Oh no I dont want to interfeir with your life"

"I insist. Goodness knows what wouldve happened if you werent back there. You saved me. Its the least I could do for you".

"So long as you're sure?" she nods and smiles softly at you

"We've got a spare bed. Its not the comfiest but its probably better then the beds the inns round here have" you chuckle slightly and nod

"Thank you ma'am" she smiles at you as you motion at the laundry "let me help you with that" you grab it from where she had popped it. She goes to protest but you shake your head. SHe sighs, looking at you before leading you to where it needs to go.

"I'll be finishing work within the hour if youd like to hang around until then? I could take you back to mine afterwards" you nod. Smiling at her as you go and order a drink from the bar beore sitting at a table.

The hour passes quickly. She walks with you back to her house. It was small but well kept. You look around as she goes over to the kitchen. STarting to prepare some food.

"Who do you live with?"

“My husband and two sons. They should be home soon" you nod. As if on cue the door opens. "Speaking off. These are my sons" you turn, seeing two youn boys walk in. The taller of the two takes off his hat and places it onto the table. He meets your eyes. You smile at him as he glances at the gun still around your waist.

"This is my eldest son Billy and then my youngest Joe". You put your hand out towards the older, a smile still on yur face

"My names Hope" he takes your hand, gently shaking it before dropping it. You could not read the look he was giving you.

"Shes new in town. Arrived this morning. i said that she can stay the week with us". He nods, eyes ramining on yours as he motions his head at your weapon

"Thats a nice gun"

"Thank you. It was a gift from my sister in law". The door opens once again, an older gentlemen walks through the door.

"This is my husband Henry" he shuts the door behind him. His eyes scanning over your body. In a very different way to which the son did. "Henry this is our visitor Hope. Shes our guest for the next week" His eyes coming back up to meet yours as Kathleen continues to speak "Dinner will be soon. Billy darling, could you grab out some plates" he nods. You walk over towards him

"Let me help". He grabs out some plates, handing them to you. You go over and start helping dish out the food onto the individual plates. You then sit around the table, Mr and Mrs Antrim sitting either end. The brothers sat next to each other as you sit oppoite Billy. Kathleen says grace before you all start to eat.

They ask you a few questions. Where have you travlled from? Have you travelled alone? Where are yu heading to? You answer their questions as truthfully as you can. Not wanting to tell them the full truth of why you had to run away from your family.

As the meal finishes and after the plates have been cleared and cleaned Kathleen shows you to your bed for the next few days. You sit onto it. Soon sleep catching up with you from the hectic few days - hell even weeks that youve had.

You wake up in the morning. Getting up and going outside. Resting against the outside of the house as you watch the street. Hearing the door open you turn, seeing Billy walk out. He half smiles at you which you return. Looking back at the people. He walks over to you

"What are you planning on doing toay then Miss?"

"Theres no need for the formalities. Please call me Hope" you smile at him as he leans against the wall next to you "I dont know. I dont really have any plans today. Just wonder around town I guess" he nods. You go to ask him what he was planning just as a blonde haired man appears riding a horse. He smiles at Billy before dismounting. His eyes meeting yours as a soft smiles comes over his face

"Whos your friend?"

"Hope" you answer "and you are?"

"Jesse" he smiles at you before turning his head back to Billy "you still up for some shooting Kid?" he nods, standing up straight you look between the two men

"WHat are you boys shooting?"

"We go down by the field and practice shooting" you nod, standing up straight as Billy goes to untether his horse

"You two have fun" you smile at them as they both mount their horses.

"You have fun to miss" Jesse says at you, snaking his tongue over his lips before riding off. Billy tilting his hat at you before following his friend.

You stay and help at Mrs Antrims home. Helping to do some of the chores around the house whilst herself and her husband are away at work. You end up helping out one of the maids, helping her do the washing or hanging up the clothes. You're in the kitchen, you're cleaning the dishes as shes drying and putting them away.

You hear the fron door open. Looking you see the older son walk in. Smiling at Billy before going to carry on. The woman speaks next to you in Spanish. Not unsual due to her ethnicity. What did surprise you though was when Billy spoke back to her in Spanish. You look at them both, a look of consufion on yoru face. She lets out a soft scoff as Billy smiles at her. Speaking some more in Spanish

"What are you talking about?" you half smile, confusion still in your eyes as you look at the girl. She chuckles, almost a giggle as she grabs the dry plates. Going over and placing them onto the shelf. Turning to Billy he smiles at you.

"She was asking as to why you were staying with us. So I was informing her" you nod

"What did you say?"

"That I dont know why you're in town but you'll be staying with us over the next few days" you nod again. Putting your hand in the sink as you take out the plug. Finsihgint eh dishes as the girl comes over and carries on drying.

"Are you going shooting again tomorrow?" he nods. Placing his hands on his gun belt as you trun to face him, tilting your head slightly as you meet his eyes.

"Yeah. I try and practice everyday"

"Would you be able to take me out to practie?" he chuckles slightly

"Why do you need to shoot?"

"Its a dangerous world we live in. A girl can never be to careful" he nods, smiling as he looks down.

"Yeah I can teach you to shoot" he looks back up at you "you've got your own weapon right?" you nod. "Good" he smiles. His eyes soft as they watch yours "I'm going to go and help ma. Ill see you soon" you nod, watching as he alks off.

You continue helping the girl arond the house. Then helping Kathleen make dinner when she gets back before heading to bed. You wake up early in the morning. Getting up you grab a ribbon. Tying up half of your hair . Two strandes falling either side, framing your face as the rest fall down your back, over your shoulders.

Going into the kitcehn you smile at Kathleen. Who is rushing to get out the house. Late for her shift. You wave goodbye to her as she rushes out the door. Billy comes in, smiling at you. "Good morning" you smile at him "Still up for shooting today?"

"Of course" you answer him. He relaxes his smile as he looks at you. "Will your friend be joining us?" he shakes his head.

"No. No Jesse has other things to do today" he holds your gaze as you nod. Pushing your lips tgether slightly "shall we go then, miss?" you chuckle slightly.

"I told you. Call me Hope" you smile, walking past him as you go to the front door. He follows you, going over to his horse. "How far is it to walk?"

"Do you not have a horse?" you shake your head. He nods slightly. Untethering and then mounting his horse. He holds the reins taught as he hods a hand out towards you. "You can ride with me". You take his hand, letting him help pull you up as you sit behind him. You rest your arms around him, resting over his stomach as he starts his horse in a soft trot.

You get to an empty field. A few fallen trees in the middle of it. He dismounts his horse, holding his hand out towards you as he helps you jump down. Going and tying his horse to a tree. “Lets see the gun you have” he stands about a metre in front of you. You take it out the gun holster, handing it to him. He looks at it, his eyes filling with a gleam as he examines the weapon. “This is a very nice gun” he spins it a couple of times in his hand, taking aim at the tree line. Getting the feel for the weapon. He nods in approval as he hands it back to you. Talking as he sets up the makeshift shooting rink.

"I assume you've shot before?". You shake your head as he looks at you in disbelief "you have one of the nicest guns ive seen yet you've never used it?"

"I dont know what else to tell you" he chuckles, walking back up to you as he motions at the various bottles and cans on the fallen trunk.

"Lets see what we're working with then". You take out your gun. Aiming it. You fire. Missing the targets completely. SOmehow managing to get a tree a ways back. You lower the gun.

"If I say that I was aiming for the tree then does it count?" you look at him. He lets out a soft laugh as he shakes his head. You take in a breath, aiming again. Squeezing the trigger. Once again hitting none of the targets. You throw your head back and let out a sigh of defeat. Causing him to laugh. "I give up. Its impossible" his lips turn slightly.

"Yeah?" you nod. He faces the items. Taking his gun out and taking aim. Shooting six times. Hitting five of the targets. Your mouth drops in awe as you watch. Turning your head to face him, he smirks as he looks at you. Putting his gun back in its holster.

"How the fuck did you do that?"

"Ive been practicing a long time" you scoff slightly

"No kidding" he smiles as a soft chuckle passes his lips

"Come on. Put your gun up". You do. Your body facing towards the items as he comes up behind you. Gently resting his hand over yours as you fee his breath on the shell of your ear. "Look at where your shooting. Take in a breath and aim. Exhale and pull the trigger". You do as he says. Drawing in a long breath, holding it as you aim at the item. Exhaling before pulling the trigger. It doesnt hit the items but itdoes hit the log the items are on.

"Good. Relax some more and aim a bit higher. Then repeat what you did". You take in a breath. Aiming, exhaling, then shooting. Hitting a glass you watch as it shatters. A smile comes over your face as he moves away from you. You turn to face him, grinning at him "Well done" he smiles. "Do you think you can hit the rest of the targets?"

"Just be impressed that I managed to hit one, ok?" he laughs. Watching you as you bring the gun up. Repeating the same four steps as to which he told you to do. Managing to hit two more tagrets. You bite your bottom lip as you try to hold back your glee. Turning to face him you meet his eyes.

"You're improving. Not that you could've gotten worse" you playfully push his shoulder

"SHut up" he chuckles. You reload your ammo before bringing the gun back up. This time managing to hit 4 out of 6. The both of you practice for about an hour. Taking it in turns to shoot. Once youve finished you put your gun away. He helps you get back up onto the horse. Holding onto him as he rides back home.

He jumps off. His hand coming out for you as he dismount. You gently stroke its neck as he ties the horse up "Same time again tomorrow?". He asks. Eyes looking at you as he rubs the horses nose. You nod.

"I look forward to it" you say. Going inside their home.

Next

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(Billy The Kid) Gladiator AU 18+: Double-Edged Sword

A/n: Hey there! I hope you enjoy this short story 💖 I had to quickly write it down before the idea left me haha. Sometimes the best ideas hit you when you least expect them, right? 😅

I’ve created this AU where Billy the Kid is a gladiator, and it’s honestly been such a fun and emotional ride to write. Let’s just pretend that William/Billy was around in ancient Rome for this AU 😜. If you like it, let me know, cause I've definitely got a few more ideas up my sleeve!

That being said, I want to give a little warning—this story definitely dives into the angst. It was such a tearjerker to write, and I hope it brings you the same heartache (in the best way, of course 😭). It’s an emotional one but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! 💖

I truly hope this little adventure sparks some emotion and some excitement for what is to come for this future AU. Please drop a comment if you want more from this world! 😏🔥 And as always, requests are always open! 😄👀 Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: Roman Empire AU, violence, major character death (Not reader) weapons, light smut, blood, gore, emotional distress, loss of a loved one, grief, angst and dark themes.

The early morning sun filtered softly through the curtains of their modest Roman home, casting a warm, golden glow over the couple tangled in the sheets. The soft light seemed to paint the room with an ethereal quality, wrapping around them in a cocoon of quiet warmth. William hovered above Y/n, his breath warm against her neck, sending waves of warmth through her skin as he pressed gentle kisses along the curve of her collarbone. His movements were slow and deliberate, hips rolling with hers in a rhythm that was both tender and passionate, a silent dance that spoke volumes of their unspoken bond.

Her fingers, delicate yet sure, trailed through his dark, unruly locks, tangling in the small curls at the nape of his neck. She tugged lightly, pulling him closer, craving the feel of him, the warmth of his body pressed against hers. With a soft, deep sigh, his lips found hers in a slow, searing kiss, deepening as the moments stretched into eternity. The world outside seemed to fade away, the room echoing only with the soft sounds of their breath, their whispered words, and the faint creak of the bed beneath them. It was a sacred silence, an intimate haven they had carved out for themselves in the quiet hours of dawn.

"I love you," she mumbled breathlessly, her voice barely a whisper, a secret shared only between the two of them. She gently nudged her nose against his, the warmth of his skin igniting a shiver that cascaded down her spine. 

Her eyes fluttered closed as she savoured the feeling—the closeness, the love that seemed to pulse between them. In that fleeting touch, there was more than words could ever express, more than she could have ever hoped for. It was as if everything in her soul aligned with the gentleness of his presence, a silent promise that only the two of them could understand.

William paused, his lips hovering above hers, his breath mingling with hers as he kissed her forehead with a tenderness that made her heart swell. Then, his lips returned to hers, capturing them in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with an aching depth. He poured all of his love, his devotion, into the kiss, his hands roaming gently over her curves, caressing her soft skin as if she were something sacred. His touch was reverent, guiding her hips with his, moving in perfect harmony as if their bodies were telling a story of love and longing that transcended time and space.

"And I love you, my sweet Y/n," he whispered against her lips, his voice low, laced with reverence and passion. His blue eyes—those eyes, like twin oceans—gazed down at her with a softness that left her breathless. There was a depth to his gaze that seemed endless as if they held the secrets of the universe, and yet, at that moment, they only held her. She felt herself drowning in those eyes, overwhelmed by the tenderness, the adoration he had for her. "Always and forever." His words, simple yet profound, filled the room with an unspoken promise that would bind them together for as long as time would allow.

Afterward, William collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms with a tender urgency, as if we both needed this moment of closeness to breathe again. Our breaths came in shallow bursts, trying to catch up to each other, to find a rhythm that matched the pounding of our hearts. As the quiet settled between us, he tugged me even closer, the warmth of his body enveloping mine. His lips, gentle and soft, began to scatter light kisses across my face—across my forehead, the tip of my nose, each one a sweet caress, a promise. With each kiss, his voice murmured in my ear, thick with emotion, attempting to fight off the fear that I could feel creeping up in my chest. He knew the storm that raged in my mind, knew the worry that I could never quite silence when he was about to face battle.

“I’ll be fine tomorrow,” he whispered, his breath warm against my temple, a soft but firm promise. “You know I always make it back to you. Every time, my love.”

I could feel my heart aching in the quiet of the room, a wave of unshed tears burning behind my eyes. I clutched him tightly, my fingers digging into the fabric of his tunic, as if I could anchor him here, prevent him from slipping away. “You promise?” I whispered, my voice barely audible, shaky with the weight of my fear. I hated the vulnerability in my voice, but I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop wanting to believe, needing to believe that he would come back to me, that he would always come back to me.

William cupped my face, his large hands gentle but firm, as if he could hold the world in them just to keep me safe. He gazed into my eyes with such unwavering devotion that my heart clenched painfully in my chest. "I swear it, my beautiful girl. No blade, no man, no beast can keep me from you. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll fight, and then I’ll come home to you like I always do."

His words wrapped around me like a lifeline, each syllable a tether to the reality I so desperately wanted to hold onto. But still, the fear lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind. What if this time, something was different? What if tomorrow he didn't come back? I buried my face against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. The sound was a soothing melody, grounding me, reminding me that he was here, that he was with me now. The soft, rhythmic pulse of his heart reminded me that he was alive, here, and promised to stay. For now, that was enough.

I curled deeper into him, my body instinctively seeking comfort in his warmth, in the solidness of his presence. His hand moved to my hair, fingers threading through it in slow, tender strokes. Each movement was a reminder of the safety I found in him, of the strength he provided just by being near me. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a lullaby, soothing me into a peace I knew I could only find when I was in his arms. His touch was grounding, each stroke of his fingers in my hair a promise, a soft whisper of love and assurance.

I let go of the world outside, surrendering myself to him completely. In his arms, with the sound of his heartbeat and the softness of his touch, everything felt as though it would be okay. His love was a blanket, wrapping me up, protecting me from the harshness of the world. I let my body relax, let the tension bleed away, and with a final, shuddering breath, I allowed myself to drift into sleep, the comfort of his embrace carrying me away.

The next day arrived far too quickly. The bustling sounds of the city outside their home were a harsh reminder of what lay ahead, a world so different from the quiet solace they had shared in their final moments together. William stood by the door, his posture tense, as he prepared to face the arena. Beyond the heavy wooden gates, the Colosseum loomed, its ancient stone structure towering like a monstrous sentinel, casting long shadows over the bustling streets. The vast amphitheatre stretched into the horizon, a circular monument to the cruelty and spectacle of the empire, its tiers rising like a sea of watching eyes, waiting for the blood to spill. The sun glinted off the stone, reflecting the promise of violence and glory in every crack and crevice of its walls, as the sounds of the crowd grew louder.

Dressed in his battle attire, William was no longer the man she knew, but a warrior of the arena. His tunic, simple yet functional, clung to his form beneath a gleaming bronze chest plate, intricately designed with ancient symbols that glinted in the light. Over his shoulders, a crimson cape fluttered, its deep red a symbol of both strength and sacrifice. His Roman praetorian helmet rested on a nearby table, the polished metal gleaming with an intimidating sheen, decorated with intricate etchings along its crest. He was the embodiment of an unstoppable force, every piece of armour symbolising a battle fought and a life at stake.

As Y/n adjusted his helmet, her fingers tracing the curves of its cold surface, she looked up into his cerulean sapphire eyes—eyes that had once held tenderness but now radiated a calm, silent strength. He leaned down, his lips finding hers in a lingering kiss, soft yet desperate as if trying to memorise the feeling of her before stepping into the chaos. When they finally parted, he kissed the ring that adorned her finger, a small gesture that spoke volumes, a promise between them that transcended the violence he was about to face.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stood there, my hands trembling ever so slightly as I adjusted his helmet. The weight of the moment settled over me, the quiet before the storm, the final moments before he stepped into that arena where I knew only one of us might walk out alive. I glanced up into his sapphire eyes, searching for the familiar warmth, the spark of life that had always calmed me, but today it was different—today, they held something else. Determination. Strength. A quiet, unwavering resolve.

"Stay strong for me, my love," he whispered, his voice soft but steady. His words felt like a lifeline, and yet, the fear in my chest threatened to swallow me whole. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only seemed to grow larger. How could I stay strong when everything in me wanted to beg him to stay? To keep him here, with me, away from the horrors he was about to face? But I knew I couldn’t. Not for him, not for us.

"I’ll see you in the stands," he added with a faint smile, the kind that was both reassuring and bittersweet, as if he were trying to mask the looming weight of the moment with humor. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but there was a quiet confidence there that made my heart both ache and flutter. I wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that this would be like all the other times, that he would come back to me as he always did. But this time felt different. The uncertainty gnawed at me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that this time, something might change.

I nodded, but my voice betrayed me, trembling as I spoke. “Be careful. Please, William.”

His smile never wavered, and he straightened up, standing tall with the poise of a warrior, ready for the fight ahead. There was something about the way he carried himself, the way he faced everything with such unshakable certainty, that made him seem invincible. But I knew—he wasn’t invincible. None of us were. “Always,” he said, his voice thick with that simple, unbreakable vow. It hung in the air like a promise, but it was also a heavy weight on my chest, reminding me of the very real danger he was walking into. The gravity of it hit me harder than ever, and I could feel my heart sinking even deeper into the pit of my stomach.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. There were so many things I needed to tell him, so many things I wanted him to know. I wanted him to understand how much he meant to me, how deeply I loved him, how terrified I was of losing him. But no matter how hard I tried, the words didn’t come. They felt too big, too overwhelming to say aloud, and I could feel the tears building up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. The ache in my chest was unbearable, a constant reminder of how little control I had over this moment, over the uncertainty that lay ahead. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to watch him walk into that arena, into the arms of danger, where everything could be taken from us in the blink of an eye. But I had no choice.

A single tear slipped down my cheek, and before I could even react, before I could brush it away, his hand was gently cupping my face. His thumb swept over my skin with such tenderness, such care, that it felt like he was trying to erase the pain in my soul with nothing more than the simple act of loving me. His touch was deliberate, soothing, as if he could make everything better just by being here, just by holding me close. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of his hand on my face, the softness of his touch, but the ache in my heart only deepened.

"Hey, none of that now," he murmured softly, trying to lighten the mood, his voice filled with a teasing warmth that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. "You know I always come back, don't you? No need to stress. I’ll be in the stands, waving to you, just like I always do. Besides," he added, with a playful glint in his eye that was almost too easy, "you’ve got nothing to worry about. If anyone can survive that arena, it’s me."

His attempt at humor, his gentle teasing, was the smallest of distractions, a fleeting reprieve from the whirlwind of my thoughts. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that this time, like all the other times, he would walk out of that arena unscathed, that he would be there with me again, alive, whole. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw the same uncertainty that tugged at my own heart. And I knew, deep down, that we were both holding on to that hope, that fragile thread, with everything we had.

"I swear to you, Y/n," he continued, his voice low and sincere now, his hand still holding my face gently, as though afraid that if he let go, I might fall apart. "No matter what happens, I always come back to you." His gaze softened as he brushed his thumb over the tear on my cheek. "You’re my world. I’ll fight like hell to make sure I see you again."

The sincerity in his voice, the unspoken promise behind his words, cracked something inside me wide open. I nodded slowly, trying to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm me, to keep from breaking in front of him. But it was impossible to hide the rawness in my heart, the fear that twisted inside me like a vice.

He smiled again, this time a little more genuine, a little less forced, and pulled me into a brief but tight embrace. "Now," he said softly, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, "no more tears. You know I can't stand seeing you like this. I'll see you in the stands, and when this is all over, I’ll be back in your arms, where I belong." I attempted to speak to him once more but before I can utter a single word I get cut off by him.

"Shh," he whispered, his voice a soft murmur against my ear. "It’s going to be okay. I promise. I’m doing this for us, Y/n. For our future." His thumb wiped away another tear that I hadn’t even realised had fallen. "So we can have our home. So we can start a family one day."

The words hit me harder than anything else he could have said. I had always known that he fought for survival, but I had never understood the depth of his sacrifice until now. The thought of him doing this for us—so we could have a life, so we could build something together, tore at my heart. It was more than I could bear.

“I’ll come back to you,” he continued, his voice steady, but there was an emotion in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before—vulnerability, fear hidden beneath the surface. “I’ll come back, and we’ll build our life, I promise. All I need is a few more winnings and then I promise I’ll never touch a blade again”

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath as the tears continued to fall. I couldn’t stop them; I didn’t want to stop them. It was as though all the fear and love I had for him, everything I had kept hidden, was finally breaking free.

When I opened my eyes again, he was still there, his gaze never leaving mine. “I will come back,” he repeated, his words now a silent plea, a desperate need for me to believe in him, to believe in us.

I nodded, unable to speak, my chest too tight to form any more words. I wanted to be strong for him, to hold it together, but at that moment, all I could do was let my emotions flood through me. He gently kissed the top of my head, pulling me into his arms, and holding me close for one last, lingering moment.

“I love you, Y/n,” he whispered, and it was the most painful, beautiful thing he could have said.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice hoarse, barely audible as I clung to him, afraid that if I let go, I would lose him forever.

You’re just being paranoid, I think to myself tying to calm my senses.

I clung to his words, to the warmth of his embrace, trying to etch every moment into my memory, knowing that it was the last one I would get before he walked into that arena. His words were a balm, a fleeting comfort, but they couldn’t completely ease the ache in my heart. Still, I nodded, pressing my lips to his one last time, a silent vow of my own: I’ll wait for you. Always.

With a final, gentle squeeze, he stepped back, his eyes meeting mine one last time before he turned toward the door. I watched as he walked away, his armour gleaming in the dim light, his figure growing smaller with every step until the door closed behind him, and I was left alone in the silence.

I didn’t know if I could be strong, but I had no choice. For him. For us. I would have to find a way.

As they were separated at the gates of the Colosseum, Y/n’s heart pounded so hard in her chest, it felt like it might shatter at any moment. Her feet felt heavy as she ascended the grand staircase leading to the stands, each step seeming to echo her growing anxiety. The roars of the crowd blurred around her, the deafening chants of excitement ringing in her ears, but all she could focus on was the hollow pit in her stomach and the way her hands trembled as she clutched the railing. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting harsh light on the arena below, but it felt cold to her, like the very air had turned to ice.

Below, through the wide opening of the gates, she saw him—William—being escorted to the preparation area. His broad shoulders squared with every step, his back straight, a figure of quiet strength amid the chaos. She could barely breathe as she watched him disappear into the shadows of the arena. She knew what was coming. She knew the violence, the brutality, that awaited him in the arena. And yet, all she could do was watch.

Her eyes followed his every movement as he donned his gladiator armor, the bronze plates glinting sharply under the harsh sun. The sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air as the armor was fastened into place. He wore it like a second skin, a familiar comfort—one that only served to remind her of the dangerous world he had to enter. His jaw was set, his lips pressed into a thin line of determination, and in his eyes, there was something she couldn’t quite place—a mixture of resolve and something else, something darker, like a man who had come to terms with the violence he was about to endure.

He gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles white as he held the hilt, as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded in a world full of brutality. The thought of him stepping onto that blood-soaked sand, ready to fight not for glory, not for the crowd’s adoration, but for her—for them—made her chest tighten. Always for her.

Y/n’s heart ached at the thought, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She wiped it away quickly, not wanting anyone to see her weakness, but the pain was too much to hide. The anticipation in the stands was deafening as the announcer’s voice boomed through the air, the crowd roaring with excitement. Fight after fight came and went. Swords clashed, shields were shattered, and men fell, their screams echoing through the arena. Each brutal clash of weapons, each cry of pain, made Y/n’s stomach twist in knots. The blood spilt, the sweat and dust clinging to the combatants' skin—it all blurred into a horrific dance of violence. The crowd cheered, their hunger for blood insatiable, but Y/n could only feel a suffocating dread. It was as if each fight was a reminder of the horrors that awaited William.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away, even though her heart begged her to look away, to block out the chaos. She clenched her fists in her lap, nails digging into her palms, trying to steady herself, but the fear gnawed at her insides. She watched, powerless, as gladiators clashed in brutal combat, their weapons slicing through flesh, their bodies falling, lifeless. Every time a fighter collapsed, every time blood sprayed into the air, she felt like the world itself was crumbling around her. Her heart raced with every swing of a sword, every shudder of a body hit with a heavy blow.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the announcer’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, slicing through the tension that had settled over Y/n like a thick, suffocating fog. This was it. Her breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening as the gates to the arena groaned open. The sound of them scraping against the stone seemed to reverberate in her bones, drawing her gaze to the entrance. Every heartbeat felt like a drumbeat against her ribs as she held her breath, waiting for him to emerge.

The instant her eyes locked onto him, her world narrowed, and everything else—the madness of the crowd, the roaring of the spectators, the bloodied battles before—faded into nothingness. He stood tall, unwavering, as though the weight of the arena, the weight of the fight, the weight of the world, meant nothing in the face of his resolve. His boots pounded heavily against the stone floor, each step deliberate, each movement measured, but to Y/n, it was as if time itself had decided to pause, to give her just a few precious moments to absorb the sight of him. The harsh sunlight glinted off his armor, casting golden highlights across the bronze plates, making them gleam like polished fire. His sword—his weapon, his lifeline—was gripped tightly in his hand, the hilt as familiar to him as his own skin.

She could feel the tension in the air, electric, crackling, as the crowd roared louder, but it was as if they were all distant echoes in her mind. She could only see him—his face set in determination, his jaw clenched in that way she knew so well. And for the briefest of moments, everything stilled. The world, with its brutal violence and unrelenting demands, seemed to hold its breath with her. All there was in that single, fleeting second was him—her William, standing at the edge of the arena, ready to face whatever challenge lay before him. Ready to fight for his life, for them.

And then, without warning, their eyes met.

It was a fleeting glance, so brief that she could have convinced herself she imagined it if it weren’t for the warmth that flooded her chest. In the space of that single moment, she saw more than just the steely determination of a fighter; she saw him—the boy—the man who had promised her more than this life of violence, who had sworn to always return to her. A slight, almost imperceptible grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and for the first time since she had walked into the colosseum leaving him below down there, Y/n’s heart lightened. Just as he had said to her he waved his arm in the hair up at her, even in this crowd of people up above he still saw her. A silent promise passed between them, one that needed no words: He would fight. He would survive. He would come back to her.

But just as quickly, the moment shattered like glass, the promise lingering in the air as the gates across from him creaked open, and her stomach dropped.

A figure emerged—his opponent.

The man was massive, his frame towering, covered in dark armor that seemed to absorb the sunlight, making him appear as a shadow against the brightness of the arena. The crowd erupted, a deafening roar of anticipation that shook the very stands beneath Y/n’s feet. She could feel her pulse hammering in her ears, each beat a painful reminder of the horror unfolding before her. Her throat constricted, a vice around her breath as she watched the two men face each other, the tension crackling between them like a storm about to break.

William’s opponent lunged forward with terrifying speed, swinging a massive battle axe with deadly intent. Y/n’s heart stopped as the axe cut through the air with a vicious arc, its edge gleaming like a promise of blood. William barely managed to dodge in time—his body twisting to the side, but the sheer force of the swing sent him stumbling back, his feet sliding in the sand. The sound of the blow reverberated through the arena, the impact ringing in Y/n’s chest like the strike of a hammer. Her breath was stolen from her, her chest tight as she watched him struggle to regain his footing, the strain visible in every muscle of his body.

The crowd screamed, a wave of savage excitement rolling through the stands, but Y/n could barely hear them. All she could focus on was him—the way his body moved with the raw power and desperation of someone who refused to be taken down. His face was set in a mask of concentration, sweat dripping down his forehead, his brow furrowed in determination. His sword, so familiar to him, was still gripped tightly in his hand, its edge gleaming as it glinted in the sunlight.

Then it happened. A single misstep. William’s foot faltered, sliding across the blood-slicked sand like a cruel twist of fate, and the arena seemed to hold its breath. His stance wavered, his balance thrown. Y/n’s heart stopped, her breath frozen in her chest as she leaned forward, gripping the edge of the stone bench so tightly her knuckles turned white.

No.

The word screamed through her mind, a desperate denial of what was unfolding before her. She wanted to shout, to warn him, to do anything to stop what was coming, but the air refused to leave her lungs. She could only watch in horror as his opponent’s eyes gleamed with vicious intent, his movements swift and merciless. He lunged forward, seizing the moment with a predator’s precision, and the blade glinted in the sunlight before plunging into William’s side.

Time shattered.

The deafening roar of the crowd surged like a tidal wave, but to Y/n, it was as though the world had gone silent. Her scream tore from her throat, raw and filled with a terror so consuming it drowned out everything else. The sound of her agony cut through the air, lost amidst the frenzy of cheers and applause. Her vision blurred with tears as she stood, clutching the rail in front of her as though it could anchor her to reality.

“No! No, no, no!” she cried, her voice cracking, but the scene below remained unchanged, a nightmare playing out in agonizing clarity.

William staggered, his body jerking violently with the impact. The blade had sunk deep, a crimson stain spreading rapidly across the bronze plates of his armor. He faltered, his knees buckling, and she could see the pain etched on his face—a fleeting grimace that was quickly replaced with something else. Determination. Defiance.

“Get up,” Y/n whispered, her voice trembling as her tears fell freely, streaking her face. She clenched the railing tighter, as if her sheer will alone could pull him back to his feet. “Please, William. Get up. You promised me.”

But his movements slowed, his sword slipping from his hand to the bloodstained sand below with a hollow clang that echoed in her soul. The cheers of the crowd grew louder, a sickening roar of approval that made bile rise in her throat. They were celebrating. Celebrating his pain, his suffering. His possible death.

No, this can’t be happening.

The denial pulsed through her veins, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes were seeing. He always comes back. He always wins. She shook her head violently, clutching the necklace he had given her, the cool metal digging into her palm as if to remind her of the truth she wanted to believe.

“Fight,” she whispered again, the word turning into a chant. “Fight, William. Fight.”

His opponent stood above him now, raising his blade for the final strike, and the crowd roared in anticipation. Y/n screamed, her voice breaking as she reached out as though she could bridge the impossible distance between them.

“Stop! Please, someone stop this!” she begged, but no one in the stands paid her any mind. They were too drunk on the spectacle, too consumed by the bloodlust of the moment.

Below, William lifted his head, his gaze finding hers one last time. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him over the din of the crowd. Yet she knew—she felt—what he was trying to say.

“I’m sorry.”

Her heart shattered.

As the opponent’s blade swung down, she turned away, collapsing into her seat, her body wracked with sobs. She couldn’t watch. She couldn’t bear to see the light in his eyes snuffed out. The roaring of the crowd, the brutal finality of the moment, pounded in her ears, but her mind refused to accept it.

He can’t be gone. He promised me.

The sound of the crowd blurred into a distant hum, their cheers and jeers blending into an overwhelming cacophony she couldn’t escape. Her vision tunneled, her mind racing with fragments of hope and denial that battled for dominance.

He’ll get up. He has to. He always does. This isn’t real—it can’t be.

The guards moved to clear the arena floor, their voices booming, but she barely registered them. Her body moved on its own, pushing past anyone in her path, stumbling down the stairs that seemed endless. The hard stone bruised her knees as she fell, but she didn’t stop, scrambling back to her feet and running toward the gates that led to the arena floor. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each one harder than the last, her chest constricting as if the air itself had turned against her.

She reached the edge of the arena, the iron gates separating her from him. The metallic taste of blood from where she’d bitten her lip filled her mouth, but she didn’t care. Her fingers curled around the bars, gripping them tightly as she screamed his name, her voice raw and broken. “William!”

The guards stationed at the gates stepped forward, blocking her way, their expressions stoic. “You can’t go in there,” one of them barked, his tone devoid of compassion.

“Let me through!” she pleaded, desperation dripping from every word. “Please! He’s hurt—he needs me!”

Her words fell on deaf ears. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t. This wasn’t just some gladiator to her—this was William, her William. The boy who had made her laugh on the darkest days, who had held her close when the world felt like it was crumbling around her. The man who had promised her a life beyond this nightmare.

But now that promise was slipping away.

“Move!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she pushed against them, clawing at the barriers that kept her from him. The guards didn’t budge, their faces stone-like, and for a moment, she felt utterly powerless. She sank to her knees again, her head pressed against the cold bars, her sobs wracking her body as the reality she had been denying began to seep in.

And then she saw him.

Beyond the guards, beyond the bloodied sand, William lay crumpled on the ground. His once-strong form looked smaller now, fragile in a way that stole the air from her lungs. The blood pooled around him, its dark red hue a brutal contrast to the golden light of the setting sun. She choked on her sobs, her hand reaching out through the bars as though she could touch him, as though she could bring him back to her with nothing more than her will.

“Let me go to him,” she begged again, her voice barely a whisper now, her strength all but gone.

One of the guards hesitated, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second before he stepped aside. The gates creaked open, and she didn’t wait for permission. She stumbled forward, her legs shaking, her hands clutching at the air as she ran to him.

When she finally reached the arena floor, she dropped to her knees beside him. The impact jarred her bones, but she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but him. William’s breaths were shallow, his face pale, but his eyes—those impossibly warm eyes—still held that familiar love as they met hers.

“William,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she cradled his face in her trembling hands. His skin was cold beneath her touch, the warmth she had always known slipping away. Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling onto his bloodstained armor.

“I’m here,” she choked out, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. “I’m here, my love. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”

Tears streamed down her face as she cradled his head in her lap, her fingers fumbling to unbuckle the heavy, dented helmet that obscured his face. She finally pulled it free, tossing it aside with trembling hands. His features, once so strong and full of life, were pale and slick with sweat, his lips tinged with a haunting blue. Her thumb brushed gently over the streaks of dirt and blood on his cheek as if she could wipe away his pain.

“No, William. Please, stay with me. You promised!” Her voice broke, the words a desperate plea as the tears fell faster. She clutched him tighter, as if holding him close could somehow anchor him to her.

He coughed suddenly, the sound ragged and wet, and a dark crimson streak dribbled from the corner of his mouth. The sight made her stomach twist violently, and she frantically wiped it away with her sleeve, her hands shaking uncontrollably. 

“You’re okay,” she whispered, the denial in her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. “You have to be okay. We still have so much to do, William. Remember? We were going to leave this place—together. Just hold on a little longer, please.”

His eyes, glassy but still warm, met hers again. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, each word a struggle. His hand, slick with blood, rose shakily to her cheek. His touch was so faint, so fleeting, but she leaned into it as if it were the only thing keeping her alive. “I… love you.”

“Don’t say that like it’s goodbye!” she cried, her voice raw and trembling. “You can’t leave me. You promised, William. You swore you’d always come back to me.” Her tears fell freely, landing on his bloodied armor as her hands cupped his face, desperate to keep him focused on her. “I need you. Do you hear me? I need you. You can’t go—please don’t go.”

But his breathing grew weaker, each shallow inhale rattling painfully in his chest. His eyes began to flutter closed, and she shook him gently, her voice breaking. “No, no, no! Stay with me, William! Look at me! You’re not allowed to leave me like this. You’re stronger than this—we’re stronger than this.”

Her sobs wracked her body, her grip on him tightening as if she could physically hold him together, but his hand fell from her face, landing limply in her lap. The light in his eyes dimmed, and his head lolled slightly to the side. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling as reality clawed at the edges of her mind. “No, no, no…”

She pressed her forehead against his, her tears mixing with the blood staining his face. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real,” she chanted under her breath, her voice hollow and shaking. “We still had so much to do, William. We still had so much time…”

The guards approached, their heavy footsteps thudding against the blood-soaked sand, but she barely noticed them until they tried to pull her away. “No!” she screamed, her voice raw and piercing as she clung to him. “Don’t you dare touch him! He’s still here! He’s still mine!”

Her fists pounded against the guards, her cries echoing through the now-quiet arena. She fought with every ounce of strength she had left, her body writhing as they pried her fingers from him. “You can’t take him! Please, don’t take him from me! Don’t take my William-not my Billy” she sobbed, her voice cracking as the fight drained from her.

They pulled her away, her arms reaching out for him as she screamed his name, her soul breaking with every step that separated them. The sight of his still body lying in the dirt seared itself into her mind, a vision that would haunt her forever. And as the gates closed behind her, the roaring crowd finally returned, their cheers a cruel mockery of the love she had just lost.

[fletchershearsgf]

after reading this i’ve come to the conclusion that i MUST have this mans babies.

kisses and other sweet things (part 2) -- billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

hey party people :) posting this when I should be studying HAHA

send good vibes for my civil procedure final tomorrow many thx <3

I watched the scene where billy and ollinger fight and this very much inspired it lol enjoy

as always, warnings: smuuuut, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), dom!billy, brat!reader, violence, blood, pussy slapping, overstimulation

thank you all for reading!!! I love you all so much!!!!

ANYWAYS... part two:

neither one of you told… but it didn’t take long for the others to sniff the air and have an inkling for how the wind changed overnight.

in all honesty, it was billy’s fault.

the man found every way to remain close enough to be considered by your side since that night.

he would sit by you at dinner. he wouldn’t touch another woman. he always looked at you when he told a joke. he always looked at you when someone else said something funny. that joyful twinkle in his eye was reserved for you, and only you, and everyone had picked up on it. not to mention — he’d not only check his horse — but yours as well.

everyone knew what was up. everyone. absolutely everyone.

billy made it abundantly clear without even uttering a word that you two had participated in something similar to carnal relationship.

…but, in all honesty, you didn’t mind.

you would’ve preferred to talk about it, sure. what prevented you from bringing that up to billy was that you didn’t have to pry respect and loyalty out of him — the man just did it, and because he wanted to. it was… okay, fuck it — you have to admit it to yourself: it was nice. billy the kid showing you slightly more than common decency and general enjoyment of your company was nice. you were worried about bringing it up to him at the idea of losing the potential staple of someone having your back, and them trusting you enough to have theirs.

you were fucked. totally fucked. absolutely fucked. no way around it.

the man was a mysterious fuck, as well — looked at you like you were an angel, but has fucked you like even the devil would avert its eyes from the debauchery. respected in the streets, and disrespected in the sheets — every woman’s dreams.

the one unfortunate aspect was… the others. you can usually ignore everyone, and anything — only way to get through life. however, the severity of the teasing had begun to worry you.

it first began with a curt up-down look of when billy always found his way to dismount from his horse and walk next to you. it wasn’t like he was guarding you, no… neither was he following you like a puppy. it was like there was a new form of respect there — and given the fact that most of the men still looked at you like you were just a silly girl, they noticed it. for a split second, in your stupid mind, you thought it would maybe make the rest of the men treat you better — but how could you ever think that? you rolled with these guys because their very existence was about disrespect and taking for themselves.

billy had made you bot outsiders — more than you already were.

like… maybe you weren’t together… but you had each other. you weren’t sure if you could count on him yet — but his actions were… well, they confused you. and you weren’t sure if it was a good or bad confusion yet.

there had been very few moments of privacy, so you were not able to catch him alone and speak about what happened. at first, you figured you both would go about your lives as usual… not wanting to expect too much from a man who appeared to live as he wanted when he wanted to. however… you didn’t expect that how he wanted to live his life was, well — apparently by your side.

unfortunately, thinking things over was not a freedom given to you without obstacles. many of them began giving you and him looks — and then the teasing started. instead of being known by name or a nickname, the men could be heard calling you “billy’s girl” in hushed tones.

you feared the day they finally bucked up the jewels and called you his whore. you knew it was coming — you didn't want it to happen, but you knew it was. you couldn't afford to be naive.

if anyone else called you his girl — you might’ve blushed. you almost relished in it. however, when men who barely respected women called you that and you both worked with them — you knew they didn’t mean it fondly. it annoyed you, especially when you hadn’t been able to even talk about it with billy.

were you his girl? were you a fling? would billy fuck another woman if given the chance? and honestly, did he tell anyone?

questions ran through your head with very few conclusions approaching. you thought their teasing would be the worst of the worst — until it wasn’t.

no… the worst was when billy had fought one of them.

a few days after the teasing had begun to get bad, you had finally stopped at another boarding house and bar with the other boys. you figured you would retire early and let them have their fun — but that would not be the case.

when you eventually had drank your share of booze and went upstairs when the girls came around, that was when ollinger had opened his big, fat mouth.

“when billy’s done, can i get a turn?”

you froze in your tracks.

this was your worst fear — losing their respect. you had worked tirelessly to earn it, and there had been times where you felt like you never did. you may never have had their actually respect, the kind they give to men — but they never did something like that. and when all of them laughed, and began to hoot and holler — that’s when you knew where you stood with them.

fucking billy.

but that wouldn't stop you, no. they brought you on because you were a pretty thing with claws — and that's what they were going to get.

“known you longer than i’ve known him. can’t say you’ve ever peaked my interest,” you spat as you turned around to face him from a few feet away. “don’t know if you’re man enough.”

he stood then, eyes wild. he held the neck of a bottle in one hand and immediately took a swig, appearing to ignite the fire in his eyes and the aggression in his steps toward you.

“you want me to show you a real man, sweetheart?”

you took a step forward, afraid to back down. you narrowed your eyes at him. “you want me to show you how i’m a better shot than you, sweetheart?”

he stepped closer to you then. you didn’t budge — you weren’t sure if that was out of pride or fear. when he stepped closer, the stench of liquor leaked from his mouth like smoke from a wildfire. a smirk was plastered on his face, and staying still and silent was the only thing you could do to hold your ground.

“you know what that makes you, right?” he spat in a low tone. “makes you billy’s whore.”

you couldn't help it — your face twisted with shame and anger. your vision was going almost as red as ollinger's, and you weren't sure if both of you would survive the next action that came from you. before you could process the impact of his words, let alone respond — billy spoke up.

“shut your mouth, ollinger.”

your eyes flickered over to where billy stood with his hands balled at his sides.

ollinger took another swig of his bottle before he turned and stalked over to billy. billy didn’t flinch, but simply watched a drunk ollinger try to keep his cool. the entire group watched — and waited.

“you don’t tell me what to do, boy,” ollinger sneered, clutching his bottle. “you ain’t special. i ain’t never seen anything special about you.”

billy reached for his gun, but did not pull it out. billy’s hands were shaky, and that’s when you realized it — he was drunk too. “alright then — let’s fight it out.”

“i ain’t fightin’ you with a gun.” ollinger brushed off billy’s comment with another careless swig of his drink. “you ain’t that important.”

“then let’s fight with our fuckin’ fists.” billy discarded his gun and the belt it was usually kept in. “like men.”

ollinger’s eyes showed a peak of interest.

your eyes… well, they showed terror.

ollinger walked towards billy with a dip of his chin that suggested he would enjoy the aspect of hurting billy more than winning anything over billy. ollinger already thought he was better than billy, he didn’t need to win anything — but that look in his eye? when predator was threatened by another?

without his gun, you were worried for billy. frankly, billy should’ve shown it — or at least you thought he would. ollinger had at least a decade of years, strength, and experience on billy. not to mention — ollinger has also had a vendetta against billy since they met.

ollinger immediately threw of his belt. “i’ll beat your ass any day.”

as ollinger drained the rest of the bottle, you could hear the hollering of the other men around you as they drew closer. ollinger threw the bottle to the ground and stalked towards billy.

as billy was about to start pulling off his vest, you stepped up to intervene.

you’d at least like to talk to him before he died.

however, jesse stepped in front of you. “can’t get in the way of two men fighting, doll.”

you raised your eyebrow at jesse. “ill cut your cock off.”

jesse only laughed, but kept his arm outstretched in front of you.

with years of experience… you thought ollinger would fight fair — but he caught billy with a jab before billy could get his vest off. you lunged for the pair, but jesse and some of the others held you back.

you didn’t know what to do. sure, you believed in billy — but the man had a tendency of getting his shit rocked in hand to hand combat.

ollinger let out an excited battle cry — and your hate sank into your stomach. billy struggled to get up as you fought against jesse.

“come on, billy!” ollinger baited. “come on, billy!”

you watched the look in billy’s eyes then — assessing the threat. billy immediately dodged a punch over his head, came back up, and started slamming ollinger’s head against a wooden post.

the excitement of the men around you slightly died as they realized that billy didn’t fight like other men — he had no interest in punching, or relishing in getting a lick in. he went straight for a possible kill shot, grunting as he hoped to subdue ollinger.

there would be no stopping either of them. you relented against jesse’s arm, staring at the two men. your mouth parted in horror, and your stomach dropped at the sight.

billy eventually threw him over the picnic table like he was nothing more than a sack of flour. his grunts were predatory — powerful and fucking masculine. fighting was fun for ollinger — but this? this? for billy? this was necessity. he didn’t care about asserting dominance — he cared about being left the fuck alone. he needed to make sure ollinger never fucked about him again. dominance was worth nothing if you didn't have survival.

billy, still intoxicated, stumbled over to where he had thrown ollinger — but ollinger was too quick. he grabbed billy by the boot and threw him back. billy landed on his ass, and you watched in fear as ollinger stomped toward him. his eyes were wild and his mouth was curled into a bloody snarl. you wanted to get involved, you knew you should’ve — but what could you do? this was what happened when you rolled with men like this — they had to fight this out themselves, or they would become everyone’s problem. you hated it — every fucking minute of it — because this problem started with ollinger’s disrespect for you and how you could cut his jewels off before he could even get a kiss in. poor billy…

but not poor billy.

no, not poor billy — because when ollinger stood over billy, billy kicked him so far backwards that ollinger then stumbled and fell on his ass.

billy was up in an instant, stumbling, and smacked the absolute shit out of ollinger with an open palm. ollinger flew backwards for a second time that night, and suddenly the men grew more excited watching the fight. all you could do was trail behind them — worried.

billy walked up to the porch and stood above ollinger, but ollinger’s wounded pride had gotten the better of him. he took billy by the cloth of his shoulders, and slammed him repeatedly against the wooden wall of the outside of the house. jesse and his friends were cheering on billy, but all you could hear was his pained grunts. and then, just then — the moonlight had caught billy’s face just right. his eyes were screwed shut as the pain registered from the blow — and blood was pouring down from his nose and into his mouth. billy fell against ollinger in exhaustion, and that was when pat garett started cheering louder and louder.

“please,” you whispered, helpless.

in an instant, billy had gotten his elbows up and clutched the shoulders of ollinger’s shirt. with (basically) a battle cry, he willed himself to push ollinger off of him, in front of him, and then in through the doors of where all of the other men were with their women.

you followed jesse, pat, and the others.

billy and ollinger immediately crashed into the floor of the house with grunts and screams. the men once getting blown or ridden were now cheering on the fight, and the women above them or at their feet were stunned and confused — worried about getting hit.

this time — billy had gotten up before ollinger. ollinger may have had years of experience on billy, but years were years: ollinger was old, and exhausted. billy stood up and began laying overhead punch after overhead punch onto ollinger.

“get up, ollinger!” he yelled, eyes black. “get the fuck up!”

immediately, billy pulled back. like you had thought — he didn’t need the kill shot, but he needed the threat subdued. billy was breathing heavy, he was bleeding… you were so worried for him. jesse pushed past you and grabbed billy’s arm, raising it above his head.

“boys, we got a winner!” jesse cheered before everyone followed in suit.

billy fell back against the nearest bed and sat down. it just so happened that was a bed that your oldest friend was sharing with a woman. stunned, the woman grabbed billy by the shoulders to steady him. she wiped some of the blood off of his face with his shirt. you were thankful — but then her smile turned big when she realized how handsome he was.

your blood boiled.

you watched at his big eyes darted up to her face as he tried to regain his composure. he took one look at her face, your friend, and got up.

he spat once on the floor, cleaning his mouth of any excess blood. over his shoulder, he threw, “no hard feelings, ollinger.”

and started straight towards you.

you stood there, in the back behind everyone, frozen in place. billy was in front of you in as little as five strides. thankfully she had wiped his face — because he only tasted vaguely like blood when he grabbed you by the face and pressed your lips to his.

he cupped your face with one hand, but it held you in place like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. with his finger stroking your cheek, you kissed him with every bit of fear, frustration, and excitement you had in you. your lips folded together like you two were the only ones in the room — and like everyone in the room wasn’t cheering for the clear winner of the fight, and the kiss with the girl the fight was started over.

billy had stood up for you. the one man who had actually ever done that.

against your lips, he whispered. “i know you could handle himself yourself — but you shouldn’t have had to.”

you giggled against his lips, yours stretching into a wide grin. he pecked your lips a couple of times, unable to get enough of being the only one to be able to do this. he replied, “never had much taste for these girls — had a different one in mind.”

“you gonna take her somewhere private, cowboy, or what?” you asked.

billy’s eyes twinkled with mischief before he bent low, and hauled you over his shoulder. your feet kicked in front of him as you struggled to hold your hat in place and keep your balance. you were shouting at him, but nothing could be heard over your giggles or everyone else’s whistling. with one firm arm circling your hips, keeping your ass in place with his massive hand, he kicked open the doors and brought you upstairs.

“billy, if you don’t put me down —“ you laughed, breathlessly. threats were futile. “i swear —“

“shhh, sweetheart — you know i’ll take care of you,” he responded.

billy found an empty bedroom and immediately went to work. he sat you down on a low dresser and immediately started going for your riding pants and shirt. you kicked off your boots and shimmied out of the fabric as billy stood over you.

with one hand pressed to your cheek, he kissed you once more. you pulled away to smile at him. you spoke, “thank you… for what you did.”

“ollinger needs to know when to shut his mouth,” he spoke, engulfing you in a kiss once more. “should’ve made a move if he was jealous. now i’m the only one who gets to have my face between these pretty thighs.”

he pulled you by the hips so you were almost hanging off the edge, your feet flat against the wood of the dresser. you were breathless as your head began to swim. billy got down on his knees, parted your thighs, and dove for your slit.

your head immediately hit the wall. you wanted to arch your back — keen towards him — but you had limited mobility. you were at the mercy of the man before you who was lapping at your clit like nothing else existed. you should've been worried about his injuries, the dried blood on your face... but you couldn't. you didn't. billy was satisfying every bit of desperation you had felt since that night and you were too strung out to fight him. strained moans left your lips as your hips began to buck into his face.

“billy, stop…” you whined. “i want you inside me…”

he didn’t listen. the man kept his tongue drawing all kinds of messy, wet circles around your sensitive bud that pulled every dirty whine out of you. in an instant, billy pushed two fingers into you and immediately started pumping them. you lost your breath — and your ability to speak coherent sentences as well. he was tapping against your upper wall, pining for that sweet spot that was gonna make you sing for him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried. one of your hands found his tangled mess of curls and fisted your fingers through them. billy’s tongue was thick, hot, and the roof of it was rough as he shook his head against your center, increasing the friction. your hips and legs were spasming uncontrollably as a warm feeling spread from your abdomen. “jesus christ — you’re so mean.”

the air seemed to shift in that moment, but you were so lost you couldn’t comprehend. billy wrapped his cracked lips around your clit, and pulled at it and sucked. hard.

your eyes screwed shut as a cry vibrated through your chest and into your throat. it hurt, god it hurt, but in the most bittersweet way you could imagine. it was like pain and comfort all in one, delivered by the same hand, driving you into submission. every blood vessel was throbbing, throbbing, throbbing for billy’s movements and you couldn’t regain control — and you weren't sure you wanted to.

he suddenly pulled away. “you think i’m mean, sweetheart?”

his blue eyes pierced into yours when he picked up his head to face you. his eyes were raised in a manner that suggested he expected a response, but you were still in your daze. your eyes were glossy, your lips were puffy and parted, hoping he'd answer his question for you.

billy didn’t like that. with his free hand, he slapped your clit.

your body jolted, surprised at the sensation. it made your breath catch in your throat as all of your senses were on red alert... but it only made your pussy throb harder.

“billy…” you whispered, tears coming to your eyes. “you’re teasing me.”

his dry thumb began to rub circles around your sensitive clit, and the mixture of your slick and the rough skin of his dumb drew you into his control. in that moment — in that raw, vulnerable moment — you couldn’t think of anything else besides billy, and getting him to make you cum.

“mean, that it, sweetheart?” another slap to your clit. “you want me to show you mean?”

even in your haze, you were a brat at heart. with a smirk, yet shaking from how sensitive you were, you smirked at him. “don’t think you can.”

in an instant, he was on his feet. you struggled to ring out your tense muscles and stand with him, but billy wasn’t having it. he flipped you around so you were on your stomach on the dresser, legs hanging over the edge. billy pulled your hips up for you to stand on your toes, forcing your ass into the perfect position for him.

“slut for only me, huh?” he asked, kneading the skin of your ass in his hands. he slapped it once, twice, thrice — ripping little squeals from your petal pink lips. his thumb found its way into the outer folds of your pussy, barely entering. “won’t throw even a pity glance at anyone down there — but something about me just gets you this wet.”

he pushed his thumb into your sopping wet hole, and you squealed. you held onto the dresser to give yourself leverage to push yourself into his hand, but one of his hands held down your lower back.

“more, please…” you whispered.

“that smirk made me think you don’t deserve it,” he spat, still playing with your pretty pussy.

“billy —!” you screamed with exasperation. “please!”

with his thumb still in your pussy, billy leant down and wrapped an arm around your throat. with your neck in the crook of his elbow, he pulled your back to arch up towards him. billy placed his lips right by your ear, and spoke, “is that who’s got you this worked up, baby? huh? me? be sweet, and maybe i’ll kiss those pretty tears away.”

you hadn’t even noticed it — but he was right. your cheeks were stained with tear streaks that made them damp. with broken breaths, you spoke, “please — i promise.”

he began to pump his thumb into your pussy, while his other fingers worked light circles around your clit. “promise what?”

“that i’m — that i —“ you couldn’t get the words out. you were a struggling mess — clinging to the dresser with the little strength in your hands you could muster, and completely at the mercy of billy’s hold. his breath was hot against your face as heat rose throughout your body. “i —“

“fucked so dumb you can't use your words?”

“fuck —“ you cried, already almost succumbing to the feather light touches on your clit. “you’re the only one, billy — only one — please, just let me cum.”

“yeah?” he grunted. “gonna take what i give you?”

“anything, billy —“ you gasped. “please — just want you.”

billy kept his promise. he pressed his lips against your cheek, pushing your head slightly to the side. every muscle in your body was taut with trying to remain balanced and stay perked for every one of billy’s moments. his fingers in your clit began working faster and harder, and your body began to shake. you were so sensitive to everything around you — his kisses, his chokehold, his heat on your back, his fingers buried deep in your folds. you bucked his hips back into his hand, and everything exploded.

without billy’s hold, you would’ve collapse into the dresser. your knuckles were white as they bent, causing your nails to rip at the wood of the dresser. you back was arched completely towards the ceiling as you tried to remain in position. billy was whispering nasty, nasty, nasty things in your ear that coupled with your delicious moans.

“that’s it, baby, just keep cumming for me,” he rasped, groaning in your ear. “can be such a brat — but she’s got the prettiest pussy. i know what makes my girl tick.“

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you cried, falling against billy’s shoulder. the world melted before you. your eyes were drifting open and closed. the haze had consumed your brain, and each of billy’s movements made a whine well up behind your closed lips. “fuck, billy, i can’t —“

his fingers didn’t stop, and you felt like you were about to collapse. “oh, sweetheart, too much for you?”

you were practically fucking sobbing at this point. “n-no-no—“

“greedy, baby,” he said, licking at your cheek. “thought you were gonna take everything i gave you?”

“your cock, billy — please —“

“naw, sweetheart,” he said stroking your cheek. “think you’re in over your pretty little head. can’t take anymore.”

“no, no, billy — i want your cock so bad —“ your whines were music to his fucking ears.

“yeah, baby?” he asked, shimmying off his pants. “you want my cock? think you can handle it?”

“i can, i can, i can —“ you chanted, your head swimming. you felt billy’s hands spread your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. his cock slipped in through your folds until he bottomed out, pressing his hips firmly against your back side.

with billy’s mouth still so close to your ear, he rasped, “sucked my cock into you, doll. couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

you arched your backside into his hips, eagerly hoping to meet every thrust. billy had once hand holding your hips down, and the other was clutching the soft, supple skin of your throat. you could hear every labored breath of his, mixing with your own. this position was unlike any other: from the back was usually reserved for women of the night, but holding you? in such an intimate manner? with his lips dragging across the skin of your cheek? waiting for how you reacted to his touch?

you were a mess. mud in his hands — dirty and messy and everywhere —needing him to keep you together.

“nothin’ feels better than you inside me, billy,” you whined.

“i know, darlin’, i’ll always take care of you,” he groaned, lips pulling at your ear lobe which sent your nerve endings on fire. “don’t know how you do it t’me. y’let me, and i'll always be back in between these pretty thighs.”

the groan you let out was hoarse in the most feminine way. your hair was splayed out all around you, cascading down your back. with every thrust, your nipples, taut, hit the cool wood of the dresser and mirrored the smallest bit of pain you needed to leave reality. your skin was flushed and tainted with every touch and caress from billy he gave you. when he saw the blush on your cheeks, and the tears staining your long lashes — he could’ve come right then.

his girl. his pure, fucked out, sweet and scary girl. all his. a force to be reckoned with, but the prettiest sight to see. and you were all his.

however, he wasn’t through with you yet.

no. he was so mean, and he knew it — but he didn't care.

not when he had finally had you after so long.

it was right then that billy promised himself he would never neglect you for so long ever again. he knew that no one had ever touched, fucked, or loved you like he did. he knew that you never let anyone even get as close to him as you let him that night, and he would never forget that — nor would he be so careless as being ungrateful.

his girl — flushed, pink, and finally being able to know what it means to be so vulnerable with a man that she would never know an orgasm like this. he would set the fires of hell on anyone around you if it meant that you could feel this free, so wild, so yourself for the rest of your life. he knew what he had to do next.

he pulled out, and flipped you over so you were back against the wall and sitting up. he immediately stepped in between you and pushed your thighs and legs up so your calves would rest on his shoulders.

“need to feel how deep that pussy can squeeze me,” he grunted, pressing his cock into your folds.

you moaned at his words and movements, practically sand at this point. your body was numb and on fire and in water all at the same time — leaving you completely out of control. all you needed, no — craved was billy sending you over the edge. over the edge, please, over, over, over, need it billy, a pathetic mess you were, but neither of you would change it for the world.

billy began pistoning his hips into yours and you immediately leaned forward to grab onto his bulging biceps. you felt every hot breath hit your face with every thrust. the room was so hot, stuffy, humid, and yet you didn’t want it to end. all you could feel was your tight, soft walls squeezing the living hell out of billy and his beautiful cock.

“‘m gonna cum, billy,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut.

“yeah, ‘cause you’re a good girl f’me, huh?” he bit. “always takin’ everything i give her. takes my cock so well.”

“only for you, baby,” you cried again, throwing your head back against the wall.

“oh — i don’t think so, sweetheart.” his thumb immediately went to your clit, drawing rough circles on the overstimulated rosebud. "i get to see those pretty eyes when you cum."

your body immediately went taut, sitting up. the slight shake of your limbs was apparent to both of you, and you let out little gasps because of how far you were driven from reality. his cock was pounding against that one sweet spot that made your knuckles white and your teeth bury themselves into the plump of your bottom lip.

“can’t,” you cried, tears beginning to flow once more. "oh, baby — i can't, i can't..."

“i know this pussy can handle it,” he bit. “what happened to being sweet, sugar? huh? goin’ back on your promise?”

his words were the last thing you heard before your body fell mercy to uncontrollable ecstasy. your mind, numb, was thrown back and forth between the throws of passion and the pull and push of billy’s hands bruising the flesh of your hips. you pressed your forehead to billy’s, sobbing through your gritted teeth. tears were pushing through your shut, wrinkled eyelids, and all you could hear was billy begging — coaxing that last orgasm out of you.

billy had won the fight, and he had earned every fucking orgasm he had given you that night. he needed it, he earned it, and he would not be denied it. testosterone was mixing with his blood, making his veins pound, and all he could think about how the scary and sweet girl he won a fight for was weak and needy for his touch.

desperate for a comfort that she hd only allowed him to give her.

he detached your foreheads so your faces were almost pressed together, sides of your noses touching. his lips were brushing against yours — but they weren't kissing you, no. instead, they were reminding you of exactly who you belonged to.

“sweetest fuckin’ girl i know.”

"luckiest guy in this whole thing — you get that? all fuckin' jealous of me."

“knows exactly what to do to fuckin’ please me.”

“pussy just won’t stop cumming, sugar? bet you hate me so much, huh?”

with one final pull of pleasure in your muscles, you screamed his name with a sob. a fucking sob. you were drenched in sweat, your own slick, and tears. fucking tears. they were everywhere — down your cheeks, your neck, and all over billy. your hands found the hair at the back of his neck, and you weaved your fingers through the tendrils for stability.

that was when billy’s orgasm hit him: when you were so weak you could do nothing but cling to him and cry for his touch.

the throaty groan that rumbled through his chest was unlike anything you ever heard. it was animalistic — a primal need was satisfied and everything in his body was singing at the release. he clutched your body to his and your skin warmed at the embrace. he delivered three final pumps into your puffy, pink pussy, and you couldn’t do anything besides take it. you didn't want to do anything else besides take it. the sound of his moans sent every hair on your body standing at attention and your fingers were stroking his soft skin for comfort.

“that’s it, baby,” you whispered, cockdrunk. “love when you're the only one that gets to use me like this.”

at that, he knew you'd be the death of him. he accepted it, and he was okay with it. — happy, even.

you were peppering kisses all over the side of his face as he was coming down from his high. a sleepy haze settled over his eyes, but instead he captured your lips into one final embrace.

“this is the second time this evening i’ve had my shit rocked tonight, darlin’, all because of you,” he whispered. “no dull moment with you, huh?”

“never, baby,” you whispered, letting your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned against him.

“good thing you’re mine,” he quipped, pressing a long and hard kiss to your cheek. “never could share a sweet thing like you.”

----

im buzzing after that

love u guys hehe

-L oxoxox

[rieamena]

yeah uhh.... why are there so little fanfics about billy kid from zzz????? are we playing the same game???!??!?

like every time i see him my immediate reaction is CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG

[thaleleah]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓞𝓷𝓮)

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Nun!Reader

Warnings: ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Dark!Billy, Virgin!Reader, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, P in V, Corruption Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Masturbation, Wet Dreams/Sex Dreams, Seduction, Emotional Manipulation, Religion and Religious Beliefs, Explicit talk of gunshot wounds, blood, and the bullet's removal (kinda? Idk if it's explicit explicit, but its a little more than just mentioned), Mention of physical abuse/child abuse (not from Billy), Childhood Trauma, Mention of alcoholism, Moral/Religious conflict within one's self, My bad Spanish, Nun breaking her vows, Probably too quick of a healing process to be fucking someone but I'm not a doctor so 🤷🏻‍♀️, Using the word "drawers" instead of "panties" which is kinda cringe to me but I wanted to be somewhat accurate

Word Count: 9.6K

A/N: Billy's passed out for most of this but I hope y'all like it anyway. Please know I'm posting this and then running away. Okay, byeeeeeeeeee

Summary: When Billy stumbles into your clinic, hurt and in desperate need of care and refuge, you don't hesitate to help him. Perhaps this is God's will. Perhaps He has brought him into your life to help heal the parts of him that the cruelness of the world has soiled and broken. You are a healer by trade, both of the physical body and of faith. If this is to be God's mission for you, then it shall be done. How could you have possibly known that the young man who begged for help that fateful night would turn out to be the devil himself?

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Translations:

Por Dios - Oh my God

Que Dios te bendiga - May God bless you

Qué sorpresa! - What a surprise!

Y él no quería que su mamá lo supiera. Así enterró la carne en el jardín - And he didn't want his mom to know. So he buried the meat in the garden

Pero el perro la desenterró y ella se descubrió de todos modos. Tuvo que lavar platos él solo por dos meses - But the dog dug it up and she found out anyway. He had to wash the dishes by himself for two months

Ese niño - That kid/child

Parece que era un buen amigo - Seems like he was a good friend

Sí, él era - Yes, he was

De nada - You're welcome

Gracias, Hermana - Thanks, Sister

They say the devil can take on many forms.

He is a demon figure - with the face of a goat, horns, hooves, and a blade pointed tail.

He is a great dragon - large and terrifying, destructive and formidable in the power he holds.

He is a roaring lion - hungry and fierce as he stalks God’s children, waiting for them to fall into his trap before he attacks them like prey.

But the devil was once God’s favorite angel, amazingly beautiful and wise. The angel of light, God’s morning star - a traitor now, a trickster . . . evil.

The Lord teaches love for all, compassion and understanding despite another’s upbringing or current situation. All humans are God’s children, all made in His perfect image, brothers and sisters in unity under His loving and eternal care. You are thankful to know this, grateful that you can feel His presence coursing through your veins despite the horror that you’ve come to face daily while working at the clinic. His gift to you is your endless drive to help those in need, sitting by the bedsides of the sick and dying, applying a cool rag to their sweaty foreheads, or spoon feeding them soup to give them strength when they are too weak to do it themselves. 

It is a taxing life, and the sorrow you feel when you cannot nurse someone back to health is ever present in your heart, but the Lord is clear in your life’s mission and you will be forever thankful for the lessons you learn in this lifetime. 

He has made you a healer, using you as a vessel for His healing touch for all you come across - regardless of wealth, status, religious affiliation, or criminal record. 

Which is why when he stumbles into the clinic during the late hours of the night, face pale and hand pressing hard to his side where blood is streaming through his fingers despite the pressure, you don’t hesitate to help him. 

You think you should have - should have let him bleed to death on the clinic floor. Would God have abandoned you if you had?

“Sister Maria!” You cry instead, running to the injured man and looping his arm around your shoulders to help him lean against you. “We need fresh towels and water! And sutures! Hurry!”

Sister Maria runs in the room, bedsheets still cradled in her arms from where she had been turning over a recently discharged patient’s room. She gasps at the scene, dropping the linens on the floor as she rushes to the main utility closet. You guide the man to a bed, helping him drop onto the thin mattress with a tortured groan. One of your hands splays over his, helping to maintain pressure on the wound until Sister Maria can bring in the needed supplies. Your other hand lays gently on his sweaty forehead, thumb caressing the straight line of his nose trying to soothe him. 

His baby blue eyes stare up at you through their pained haze. 

“P-please, help,”

The devil can take on many forms and carry many names.

And yet, despite all you’ve heard about who he is and what he’s done, you never once considered Billy the Kid to be one of them. 

Misguided and uncared for - sure, but never evil. 

He’s so young. You can’t even imagine what horrors he must have had to go through to lead him to the path that he’s on now.

Perhaps it’s fate that you’ve been brought together, an opportunity for you to spread the healing power of your Lord’s love and mend not only his body but his bruised heart as well. You’ve seen too many times where hardships have hardened the minds and spirits of others, caging them off from God as they struggle with their wavering faith. 

“Don’t you worry,” You say. “The Lord is here with us. He will see you through.”

Whether he groans from your words or the pain, you’re not sure.

Sister Maria is quick to grab the supplies, dumping them on the side table. She dunks a clean cloth in the water, wringing out the excess, but pauses when she sees his face. 

“Is that— ” 

“Nevermind that!” You hiss, pulling the cloth from her hand. 

You lift his shirt, exposing the injury and the dirt dusted skin framing it. It looks horrible, blood seeping from the laceration in a steady flow and a part of you is thankful that the sight of blood doesn’t make you immediately drop to the floor like your cousin, Paul. He gasps when you touch the cloth to the wound, blood immediately seeping into the white of the cloth and marring the pure color. 

His fingers dig into the fabric of his trousers, gripping it tight as he clenches his teeth against the pain. Your free hand rubs lightly against his forehead, trying to soothe him as best you can while you clean the wound. 

You think it must be God’s mercy that he passes out before you can pull the bullet out. The pain of the forceps digging into his body as you pulled out the thick ball of lead and the shock that would have come with it would have surely dragged him under had blood loss not gotten to him first. It’s better this way - he’s safer cradled in sleep’s loving hold rather than crying and jerking about as you try to save his life. 

Sister Maria holds a small bowl out in front of you with one hand while the other delicately holds his wrist, feeling his pulse between her dainty fingers.

The bullet comes out easy, your forceps finding the lead and guiding it out of the wound’s entrance with ease. It clanks as you drop it into the tiny bowl, and you send up prayers of thanks for allowing such a quick and simple removal. The grace of your Lord has certainly just saved this man’s life.

With quick fingers, you stitch him up, practiced movements securing the wound shut before covering it with a generous dressing of cloth to keep it clean from any dirt and debris. 

His sleep isn’t restful, the pinch in his brow and the way his cheeks twitch in the flickering candlelight of the small room make that clear. Your own brows pinch as you reach a hand out to trace the furrowed skin, smoothing it out with a gentle thumb. You don’t like seeing people suffer, but it’s more often than not that the people you come into contact with while working in the clinic are in pain, or suffering, or at Heaven’s doorstep. You help who you can and pray for the souls of the ones you can’t so they may be guided to God’s kingdom where they can live in an eternal paradise by His side. It always hurts when you can’t heal someone, the feeling of failure is a stark reminder that ultimately it is the Lord who chooses to give us life, and he can choose to take it away just as quickly. 

It feels different this time though, somehow more personal in a way you can’t understand. The young man before you still has his whole life ahead of him, still so much to do and so many lives to touch. The sins that he’s committed thus far can be forgiven, if only he lifts them up to Him and asks for forgiveness. You can feel it, deep in your bones, that you need to save this man. You can’t fail. 

He’s alive, for now. And you can only do your best to make sure he stays that way. 

“He cannot stay here,” Sister Maria says quietly, gathering the red stained water and rags. “They will find him.”

You nod, gathering the small bowl with the bullet remnant and the sutures kit. “We’ll keep him here tonight and move him to the back room in the morning after he’s rested a while,”

“No,” Sister Maria says. “He cannot stay here. Helping an outlaw is punishable by death. They will hang us,”

“God will not abandon us,” You say, firmly. “We are all His children, servants and outlaw alike. He wouldn’t want us to toss him out on the street to die.”

You look over your shoulder towards the sleeping man again. His brow is furrowed again, the sweat on his face glistening in the light. You sigh before turning back to Sister Maria. “Don’t worry, Sister. I’ll think of something,”

The pacifying words seem to offer Sister Maria no comfort, and her worried eyes snap upwards as she looks towards the ceiling, voice cracking as she breathes a pleading, “Por Dios,” up towards the roof. 

The room is silent to her plea.

You don’t leave Billy’s side the entire night, sitting in the chair directly next to the bed, dabbing at his heated face and neck with a damp washcloth and changing his bandage when the first one had soiled through. He wakes a few times during the night, icy blue eyes fluttering open and locking on yours for the briefest second before slipping closed once again, a quiet sigh escaping through his slightly parted lips. 

This is the hardest part - the waiting. Waiting to see if your hard work to heal someone was enough. You keep a close eye on him, looking for signs of pain or illness, keeping an eye on the injury site to try and prevent infection. You flushed it with alcohol during the dressing change, having found an extra bottle hiding in the supply closet while grabbing some fresh cloths. Supplies like alcohol for disinfecting, while needlessly abundant in saloons and brothels, are difficult to acquire for the clinic. You think it's foolish, wasting something that can be used for healing purposes on something as pointless as getting drunk. Your father had been a drunk, drinking away his cares and woes, his only goal was to make it to the bottom of a bottle. 

You wish you would have found it sooner so you could have actually disinfected the entire wound instead of just the outside and stitches, but this is better than nothing, you suppose. The smell as you pour it over his wound makes your stomach turn, reminding you of all the times your father came home reeking of the stuff, belly full of poison and his mind, hazed with drink, still evil enough to find your mother and make her suffer as if she were the reason he deemed himself a failure in life. Billy lets out a pained moan in his sleep, body subconsciously tensing in pain as the alcohol flushes the stitched up skin, but thankfully he doesn’t wake. You don’t want him to be in pain, but there’s a part of you that selfishly thinks he’s sharing your own pain, the memory of your childhood trauma somehow seeping into his brain as you recover his wound. 

You know it’s not true, but you’re thankful he’s there with you anyway. 

When morning arrives, you’re beyond exhausted. 

The night shift always takes more out of you than the day shift and your eyes have been threatening to close since the first rays of the sun started spreading across the dust covered floor of the clinic. 

Sister Ann and Sister Catherine arrive before the sun does, the first rays of it only starting to spill over the New Mexico horizon line when their footsteps echo through the entryway. You lean forward in your seat at the sound of them, glancing over at Billy’s still sleeping frame as Sister Ann’s gentle humming of a nursery song her mother used to sing to her spreads throughout the clinic. Quick footsteps cut through the song, the humming stopping entirely as frantic whispers sound from the entryway. And then three sets of running feet are getting closer to the corner room. 

“Oh, good heavens,” Sister Catherine breathes, eyes locked on the special patient taking up the small bed. 

Sister Ann has a dainty hand clasped against her mouth in shock and Sister Maria nervously wrings her own together from behind them. 

“He was hurt,” You say, immediately defensive of the injured man. “We couldn’t leave him to die. The Lord says–”

“You don’t need to preach to us, Sister y/n,” Sister Catherine interrupts. “It’s the right thing to do. The Lord is on our side.” She’s confident in her words, and it gives you comfort you didn’t know you needed to have your beliefs validated. But she pauses, eyes flickering once again to Billy before they meet yours - the fear in her brown orbs clear as day. “The law, on the other hand, will not be.” 

“We need to move him,” You say.

“To where?” Sister Ann whispers frantically. “The sheriff and his deputies are sure to show up here. They know he’s been shot, it’s only a matter of time.”

“It is a blessing they have not come already,” Sister Maria adds.

They’re right. With Billy injured, they have to know he couldn’t have gotten far. Their only saving grace is that the Sheriff more than likely would have never believed Billy would have come to the clinic for medical attention if on the run from the law. Perhaps holed up in some abandoned alley, bleeding out while propped up against a wall. Or maybe they think he tried riding out of town, desperate to get as far away from the people hunting him as possible before inevitably succumbing to his injuries and falling off his horse in a nearby field. 

You rise from the chair, leaning over the bed slightly to rest a gentle hand on Billy’s forehead. It’s still clammy against your palm and he shivers slightly in his sleep, subconsciously pressing his head a little harder against your hand looking for comfort in his pained state. He needs to get away from here, away from any prying eyes because if he’s found, his life on this Earth is over. He is in no position to run or fight for his life. The road to recovery for him is a long one if he hopes to heal well enough to regain his strength and usual mobility. The only thing he will have to look forward to if discovered before he can is a necklace of rope and a quick fall. 

“Help me get him to the back room,” You say, sternly. In moments of uncertainty and panic, someone needs to be the guiding light. Your fellow Sisters are still as stones in their spots, all in various states of distress as they look at the man who, if discovered under their care, could very well be the catalyst that marks the end of their missions here on Earth. The Lord brought Billy to you - you need to protect him. “He can stay in the alcove until we can figure out where to take him.”

“He cannot stay in the clinic!” Sister Maria exclaims. “They will surely check every room searching for him!”

“Trust me,” You soothe. “Please, Sister. We need to move him before they come or we will all surely pay the price.”

There is a short pause, but to your frantic brain it feels like an eternity before Sister Catherine nods and gently nudges Sister Ann to the opposite side of the bed. 

“Let’s hurry,” She says, reaching to pull away the thin blanket you threw over Billy’s shaking frame at some point during the night. “I fear we don’t have much time left.”

Together, the four of you lift Billy from the bed. It’s a struggle. Even for multiple women to carry a fully grown man, it's a task and a half just to get him from the small patient room to the back area of the clinic. He whines in his sleep, his wound jostling and stitches pulling from the regretfully poor stability you have on his body as you carry him. But, somehow, he doesn’t wake. 

The back room is small, but comparatively large compared to the patient’s rooms. The entire width is the size of two patient rooms combined, but that’s not giving it much grace. It makes you sick sometimes, to see people with money spending it on lavish items, large houses and grand parties just to show off their wealth when there are people in need all around whose lives would change if they only had a fraction of the wealth the ones in good standing do. As it is, the back room of the clinic is despairingly bare - limited backstock of supplies, linens, and food are scattered among the wooden shelves lining the room. If only those wealthy men who think to only fill their pockets would hear the Lord’s call to give to the needy instead. It would make your heart happy to see these shelves filled just once. 

There’s a small alcove in the back of the room that you and the other Sisters use when times prove most trying. On the days when things are difficult, emotions are too much for you to handle alone or a patient isn’t doing well and there’s nothing you can do other than wait and pray for their recovery, you visit the alcove. It's been adorned with simple yet revenant items, a small yet beautiful cross nailed to the center of the wall, a small ceramic dish holding a wooden beaded rosary placed on the floor below it, resting on a pleasantly fluffed up pillow - ready to help guide their prayer. 

Resting against the side wall of the alcove is a folded up cot. It’s not uncommon that one of the Sisters might have to sleep at the clinic during their off shift. More often than not, they are able to return to their lodgings to sleep and reenergize for their next shift. But there are times when too many people are injured, too many of the townspeople have fallen ill to whatever flu or illness that’s crossing through the town and all hands are needed here. The foldable cot is their home away from home, and while it might not be the most comfortable, you are thankful the Lord was able to provide it lest you be made to sleep on the floor behind the extra blankets neatly folded on the shelves. 

You all adjust your grips on the young man allowing for Sister Maria to release her hold and pull back the thick blanket shielding the entrance to the alcove. You grunt under the presence of the additional weight, the awkward grip you all have on him unhelpful in the way his limp body bears down on you all. Sister Maria is quick in tying back the privacy blanket so that it stays to one side, and works to wrangle open the finicky cot. Once it’s unrolled, you help in depositing Billy down onto the makeshift bed, quickly checking his wound to make sure no stitches accidentally ripped in the journey back here before turning to accept the fresh blanket Sister Ann hands you from the shelf. 

Billy’s brow is furrowed again, breathing a little harsher probably from the pain of being jostled. You lay out the blanket over top of him and pull it up to his chin, your hand reaching out to smooth the wrinkled skin between his eyes again. 

“What do we do now?” Sister Ann asks, and Sister Catherine pulls her hand away from where it was plucking nervously at the skin at the sides of her fingers.

“We wait,” She responds, cradling Sister Ann’s damaged hand delicately between her own. “We won’t be able to move him out of the clinic before the Sheriff arrives. We’ll have to keep him hidden here until then and pray they don’t find him.”

The thought of the Sheriff and his men finding Billy here makes your stomach churn. The undeniable fate that waits for you if he’s discovered is one that you’re willing to sacrifice. He’s come here for help, God has brought him here to you for your healing and protection and you can’t fail Him just because your humanity makes you fearful of your end. It’s supposed to be a beautiful thing - death. The moment when your soul on this Earth fulfills its mission here and your granted eternal life at the side of God in the Kingdom of Heaven. It’s what you’ve wanted your whole life, a life of peace and serenity that seems so out of reach here on the soil. Fear will not keep you from looking forward to it. But you’re not done here yet, you have many years left of helping others and spreading His love to those in need. This is not your end. But if it is, it’s worth the sacrifice to try to save Billy. 

You’ll hang with him, if need be. 

Your fellow Sisters though . . . the thought of them hanging for your own choice, regardless of if you think it was the right thing to do, makes you sick. Your decisions are your own, and they shouldn’t suffer for your choices. 

Billy’s forehead unwrinkles under your gentle fingers, and you can feel your heart break as you look down at him. He’s so young still, a young man just at the beginning of his life. He has so many fine years ahead of him. He’s handsome, fit and strong - he would make a fine husband for some lucky lady, a dutiful father for his children. He’s not as evil as they say. You’ve learned to trust your instincts when it comes to people. Sometimes the most misunderstood people are the kindest, and you can’t help but think Billy is the most misunderstood of all. You can’t sense a single whisper of badness in him. 

You stand up and pull the privacy blanket back in front of the alcove, hiding Billy from sight in the safety of God’s makeshift altar. Together, you and the other Sisters make your way out of the back room. A few rooms down a sickly man is coughing up a storm, and from how hard and continuous his coughs are, you know his throat is raw. Sister Ann shoots the rest of you a worried look, but turns to grab a water carafe off of a side table before rushing down the hall towards the coughing man and away from the current situation. 

“You can head back, Sister Maria,” You say, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. “Get some rest. It’s going to be a long day and we’re going to need you for the night shift.”

You can tell she’s torn, both wanting to stay and help in any way she can but seeming to know that there’s nothing she can do. All there is to do is wait. After a few moments, she nods, her own hand coming up to rest on top of yours. “Que Dios te bendiga,”

You watch as she makes her way towards the front, pushing open the wooden door before jerking to a halt. “Sheriff Garrett! Qué sorpresa!”

Her words sent a spark of panic through you. It’s so soon! You knew it was coming, but it’s still so incredibly soon. You had hoped for at least a while longer to try to gather your thoughts and think of a plan of where you can take Billy, but it feels like time moves slowly as the Sheriff and two of his deputies step into the clinic.

“Sister,” Garrett responds, respectfully tipping his hat. 

Even through your panic, you still feel a twinge of irritation. A gentleman would take off his hat, but you suppose it’s better than the two men standing behind him who do nothing but trail their eyes around the clinic's entrance suspiciously (and with a clear bout of judgment).

You know for a fact these men with gold lined pockets have never given so much as a dime to the clinic. 

Sister Maria turns back to look at you and Sister Catherine, desperation clear in her eyes and you're glad that none of the men are looking at her anymore or you think her obvious distress might have given you all away.

“Have a good rest, Sister,” You say, urging Sister Maria away. Thankfully, she listens, nodding to you and then Garrett before scurrying out the door. 

“How can we help you, Sheriff?” Sister Catherine asks. 

Garrett takes a few leisurely steps along the entryway, observing the interior of the clinic with the aura of a man who thinks he can see everything. You suspect he sees nothing at all. 

“I apologize for the interruption, Sisters. I know you’re hard at work," He says. “But we’re looking for an outlaw on the run.” He pauses, looking over at the two of you with pointed eyes. At your silence, he continues. “William H. Bonney, otherwise known as Billy the Kid,”

“Oh, dear,” Sister Catherine gasps. 

You feign concern also, bringing your fingers to your mouth as a sign of shock. Garrett nods in agreement at your supposed horror. 

“As you no doubt know he is a very dangerous, very unlawful, man,”

“So we’ve heard,” Sister Catherine says, nodding solemnly. “Is that what brings you in today?”

“Yes,” He says. “There was an altercation last night between him and I. I was able to shoot him so he is very hurt, but he got away before I could arrest him or finish the job.”

“Kinda stupid to come to a clinic when you’re a wanted outlaw, Pat,” One of the men behind Garrett grumbles. “We’re wasting our time here.”

You can’t help but agree, despite that being exactly what Billy did. But maybe that’s what makes it smart. You're hopeful that Garrett will listen to his friend, will assume that Billy couldn’t possibly be here and leave the clinic without investigating it. 

The small spark of hope dies as Garrett laughs without mirth. “The Kid’s not stupid. But we’re covering all our bases,” 

“Helloooooo,” A voice calls from another room opposite the patient still occasionally coughing up a lung. “Can someone please pay attention to the sick people around here? Hellooooooooooo?”

Sister Catherine smiles tightly. “Mr. Taylor,” She says by way of explanation. “A rather problematic patient here. He’s a good man, just impatient.”

Sister Ann’s voice can still be heard attempting to soothe her own charge, so Sister Catherine has no choice but to tend to Mr. Taylor. When she disappears from sight, you turn back to Garrett, trying your best to deter suspicion. 

“I can assure you, Sheriff, that we haven’t seen any sign of Mr. Bonney around here,” The lie leaves your lips far too easily for it to feel like the sin that it is.

Garrett nods, and you can tell he believes you, but puts his hands on his hips all the same, one hand pushing aside his coat to rest freely on the hilt of his gun. “Mind if we have a look around?”  

You force a smile on your face. “Not at all. As long as you don’t bother any of the patients. They need their rest,”

“Certainly,”

You lead him around the clinic allowing him and the deputies to search the rooms for their missing outlaw. When they get to Billy’s old room, the room they just vacated not minutes before the Sheriff arrived, you tell them that a patient was recently discharged and that you hadn’t had the time to turn over the room yet. 

“Why is there blood on ‘em?” One of the deputies asks, nodding to the blood stains still covering the stark white of the sheets. 

“A cooking accident,” You reply. “An incorrect knife hold can sometimes do that,”

Another lie. You feel this one a little more than the first. 

Eventually their search comes to the back room. You can’t keep them out, that would be too suspicious, so you allow them to walk through the half filled shelves. It's more than clear that there’s no place to hide anyone here other than the alcove and you're naively hoping they won’t even realize it’s there. 

It’s a large blanket hanging on the wall. Of course, they’re going to notice it. 

And, sure enough, one of the deputy’s eyes cut to the blanket. He heads towards it with a gruff “What’s behind here?” but you intercept him, rushing over to stand between him and the alcove.

The Sheriff and his deputies have their eyes on you now, each one closing in closer to you and the alcove, much too close for comfort.

“Sister,” Garrett says, voice stern with authority. “What’s behind the blanket?”

“It’s our place of prayer here,” You say, voice calm despite your nervousness. “Our altar.” You can’t mess up now. If you show any sign that you’re being untruthful, both you and Billy as well as your fellow Sisters out front will be on a one way trip to the courthouse. You’ll all die hanging from its top banister. “When healing doesn’t seem to be enough, it helps to have a place dedicated to God to call upon his everlasting power to perform miracles.”

Garrett nods. “Mind if we take a look?”

“Yes, actually. I do,” Your quick denial clearly catches him off guard, his eyebrows raising towards his hat. “Just as God bids us to modesty with our clothing, we must also show privacy and modesty in our places of worship. They’re sacred spaces. Surely you understand that, Sheriff,” 

The words feel like poison on your tongue. Using worship and prayer to cover up a lie is the catalyst that makes bile feel like it's rising in your throat. It’s not a lie, you have to remind yourself. It is a makeshift altar, you do use it as a place of worship and prayer. Just . . . not right at this moment. 

The reality of the situation is catching up with you, and you hide your slightly shaking hands by folding them together in front of you. You haven’t lied in years. You lied a lot as a child, a necessity of living with a father who’s anger could strike at a moment’s notice. You resented having to do it back then, forced to sin for the sake of trying to keep peace in the home. It’s much like the situation you find yourself in now, having to lie to try and protect another person. To protect yourself. 

When you found refuge at the convent all those years ago, you were told you would never have to be untruthful ever again.

“God is granting you freedom from your woes,” You were told, and you remember how light those words had made you feel. “Thank him for His good graces with your undying loyalty and strive to always be who He guides you to be.”

You hadn’t lied since, no matter how tough things seemed. Sickly patients lying on their deathbed, scared and begging you for any kind of reassurance that it wasn’t the end for them. You wouldn’t give them false hope. Instead, you would tell them to turn their worries to the Lord, clasping their hands in yours and praying with them.

“Your soul is strong, bright and ever-present,” You would tell them. Sometimes you would let them hold your rosary so they can find comfort in it. “The body is a temple, and we do our best in our life to care for it. You’ve done that. If it weakens now, it is because God is calling your soul back to Him.”

The guilt is clawing at your chest, but you force it back as best as you can as you meet Garrett’s eyes. “I ask that you don’t force us to desecrate that,” 

Garrett just stares at you, an unreadable expression on his face. One deputy just looks between you and Garrett, uncertain with how to proceed in the face of defying authority, and the other deputy that sneered at the thought of Billy even coming to the clinic scoffs at your words. 

“Listen, lady, the law–”

“John, enough,” Garrett interrupts, voice shockingly hard as his eyes cut to his deputy. “She’s a Sister and you’ll show her respect.”

You feel a quick spark of satisfaction at the way the deputy’s confident, power hungry facade dies under the Sheriff's ridicule. He mumbles a quick apology to which you accept with a nod despite how insincere it sounds. 

Garrett nods his head towards the door, silently gesturing for the other two to head towards the exit before he tips his hat at you directly, thanking you for your time and apologizing for any inconvenience their visit may have caused. 

You want to tell him it was no inconvenience at all, but you’ve already sinned enough today and you can’t bear the thought of intentionally adding to the tally without justified need. Instead you settle on curving your lips into a convincing smile, thanking the men in return for their brevity and understanding and wishing them a good rest of their day as you usher them out of the back room and towards the front entrance.

Every single muscle in your body relaxes once they are completely out of the clinic, relief washing over you as you whisper out a quick prayer of thanks to God for allowing everyone to get out of the overwhelmingly dangerous situation unscathed - at least for now. 

Sister Ann and Sister Catherine peek out of their respective rooms when they hear the front door swing shut, their wide eyes mimicking the relief you know is shown in your own. 

“I can’t believe they didn’t find him,” Sister Ann admits, and it pains your heart to see tears begin to well up in her eyes. “I thought this was truly the end for all of us.” 

You have her in your arms in an instant, cradling her small frame against your chest as she begins to cry in earnest. For as scary as it’s been for you so far, you can’t imagine what she’s been going through. Sister Ann and Sister Catherine have only known about Billy for less than no time at all. And yet, despite the short period of time between finding out about Billy, getting him into the alcove, and the entrance and departure of the Sheriff - you’re sure it probably felt like an eternity to her. 

“Hush now, Sister,” You whisper, running a soothing hand along her back. “You’re safe, I promise.”

Sister Catherine places one of her hands on Sister Ann’s back as well, but she’s looking at you when she speaks. “He still can’t stay here,”

You know that. You know. You got lucky that the Sheriff didn’t find Billy this time, but who's to say that he won’t come back when he’s unable to find his missing outlaw anywhere else? Covering all his bases, that’s what he said. He’ll come back again when he sees that his other ‘bases’ have turned up nothing but dead ends. 

Your older brother, Joe, has a cabin just outside of town. It’s a hidden place, specifically built for peace. No visitors. He lives alone, no wife or children to keep him company and he prefers it that way. 

“If I’m alone, I can’t turn into him,” 

You're positive he wouldn’t. Your brother is far from being anything like your father, but the task of trying to prove that to him seems to be out of your skillset. He tells you he’s happy with his life, that he’s chosen the path he feels he needs to be on just as you have. Who are you to pass judgment?

Joe likes the solitude, that much is certain. But he also has an adventurous spirit which guides him on lengthy trips from town to town, exploring all the world has to offer while never having to be tied to one place. He’s away now according to the last letter he sent you, planning to stay in Chihuahua, Mexico for a while and that he’s not sure yet when he’s going to be back. 

“It’s dangerous,” Sister Catherine pushes, taking your silence as reluctance.

“I know,” You say. “I know. I think . . . I think I have an idea.”

The cabin will be empty. Joe isn’t due back for the immediate future, and even if he does return earlier than you suspect he will, you and Billy won’t be in danger. Joe can be trusted. He’ll help you, if need be. You can’t imagine that the Sheriff would ever know about it. It’s secluded - far off of any of the usual paths. It’s safe there. The perfect place to hide the wanted outlaw for a while. He can rest there, heal up uninterrupted for a few weeks until he can safely move around on his own two feet again. 

Sister Catherine listens openly to the idea, but her face is pinched in displeasure. 

“We don’t have much of a choice,” She says, reluctantly. “It seems like the best place for him to disappear to until he’s healed.”

You can hear the underlying pause in her agreement loud and clear. “But?”

“The clinic cannot spare two of us. We would lose half of our staff and it is too much for one person to handle alone per shift,”

“I wouldn’t ask any of you to come with us,” You say. No, for as much as you believe God sent Billy into your life for a reason, this was your mission to bear. You’ve already put your fellow Sisters through enough.

“You want to go alone?” Sister Ann sniffles, raising her head up from your chest.

“You need to think about this,” Sister Catherine says, sternly. “You shouldn’t be alone with him. He is a child of God, yes. But he is also an outlaw and a man. Sometimes, one of those is worse than the other.”

They’re being protective. The more rational part of you is grateful for their concern, and you think that if the positions were switched and one of them were in your position instead, you would react the same way. But a part of you is bitter. They’ve heard the stories. You know exactly how cruel men can be and you know exactly what they’re capable of. It’s a risk you’re taking, but you feel called to take it anyway. Billy needs your help, and God would never put anything in your path that you can’t handle.

“The Lord will protect me,” Despite the truthfulness of your words, you can see how they do little to reassure them. Your next words are better. “The Lord will help me protect myself.”

Sister Ann looks at Sister Catherine, once again bringing her hands together to pick at the reddened skin at the edge of her nail. Sister Catherine sighs, and the back of her hand reaches up to tap her forehead as if feeling the temperature or wiping away sweat. 

“Alright,” She relents. “How do we get him to your brother’s cabin?”

“I don’t know,” You admit. “We need a wagon. Or a large wheelbarrow that we can put him in and attach it to a horse. I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, but I’m sure I can manage.”

“Where are we supposed to get that?” Sister Ann’s tone borders on exasperated. 

As if answering your unspoken prayer, the door to the clinic opens once more, this time revealing a bright faced Samuel Anderson, carrying a crate full of fresh supplies. And behind him, lit up by the sunlight like a bright blessing, is his wagon.

Sam Anderson is the son of local store owner, Edward Anderson, the clinic's top provider for basic supplies that are not strictly medical. While medicine shipments and more specialty items are donated from suppliers farther away, and frankly much less frequent than necessary, Mr. Anderson and Sam never fail to come through with plenty of food for you to make soups and nutritious meals for your patients. On occasion, you even have enough to give away to the families who are stacked together in a small two bedroom on the edge of town. With eight children total between two families, you're honestly not sure how they manage - but you do your best to help when you can. 

Seeing Sam walk through the front door is like a beacon of light from Heaven is shining down on him. He’s smiling already, the crate of food handled carefully between his hands as he lets out a cheery, “Good morning, Sisters”. But as soon as he sees your faces, more specifically when he sees the tear tracks still visible on Sister Ann’s cheeks, he’s placing down the crate and across the clinic’s entrance in a second. 

“What’s going on?” He asks. His hands automatically reach out towards Sister Ann’s face as if to cup it, but he stops himself. Instead he just looks at her worriedly, his concerned gaze leaving her face for only a moment to glance at you and Sister Catherine before they’re back on her, voice low and gentle. “What’s wrong?” 

It’s no secret that Sam harbors some romantic feelings towards Sister Ann. There are days when you feel sorry for him - a young man, good and kind and generous, who you have no doubt would make a fine husband to any lucky woman is in love with one of the four women in the entire county who are incapable of returning his affection. But it’s moments like this when it’s easy to see God’s presence in other people. Sam is as respectful and kind as they come. He accepts his feelings can never be reciprocated and in turn uses his undying love and loyalty to Sister Ann by helping you all at the clinic with anything he can. 

Somehow, he doesn’t expect anything in return, never stares at Sister Ann with an ounce of lust in his eyes, and it warms your heart to see the godly quality that’s usually so absent in men so prevalent in him. 

“Something’s happened,” Sister Ann tells him, her voice still wobbly with emotion. 

“What?”

“Sam,” You say, calling his attention back to you. “I know I have no place to ask this and I won’t fault you if you decline, but– I’m asking.”

“Tell me,” He insists, pulling his hat from his head and holding it to his chest, and God bless how the sincerity in his voice bleeds into his words. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” 

So you tell him everything. Sam listens with wide eyes, shooting panicked glances at Sister Catherine and Sister Ann when you tell him about the Sheriff’s visit, and he’s genuinely sorrowful when your voice gets caught in your throat as you tell him that you had to tell some lies to get him to leave without discovering Billy. He’s nodding already when you mention your brother’s cabin.

“I’ll take you there,” He offers before you can even ask the question. “My wagon is always at your disposal.”

“It’s dangerous. If we’re caught, you would hang with us,” 

Sam lets out a breath, unconsciously glancing over at Sister Ann again. “If the four most wonderful and religiously minded people in town hang for trying to do the right thing, then this isn’t a town or even a world that I want to live in anymore. Please let me take you. It would be my honor,”

A small smile graces your lips as you reach out and gently cup his cheek in thanks. For as many men pull and grind on your nerves with their endless greed and manipulation tactics, Sam is a breath of fresh air - a truly God-fearing man with a good heart.

He’s another person that you’re putting at risk, another life in danger because of the choice you’ve made. You try not to think yourself too selfish. Surely the fact that Billy has turned up in your life is God’s plan, and He does not put obstacles in your way that you cannot overcome. 

He tells you that he’ll come back tomorrow. He has a delivery that’s expected in a town over and if he’s going to make it there and back before nightfall, he needs to leave before the sun comes up. 

“I’ll stop here first,” He says. “We can load him into the back of the wagon while most people are sleeping and make the trip to your brother’s before I head on my way.”

“Thank you, Sam. Honestly,”

“My pleasure,” He nods his head at you, replacing his hat and tipping it kindly towards Sister Catherine and Sister Ann. “Until tomorrow, Sisters,”

The door swings shut behind him as he leaves and you let out a deep breath, hands smoothing over the dark veil covering your head just to feel a bit more grounded before you pick up the crate of food Sam brought. Billy needs to eat something. You're not quite sure how long it's been since his last meal, but even if he ate a minute before bursting through the clinic’s doors in the early morning, he would surely still be hungry and in need of sustenance by now. His body is weak and it needs nourishment to heal. 

Billy’s still sleeping when you peek around the privacy blanket. His head is turned to the side and buried in his pillow as much as he can get it, mouth hanging open as he breathes. Your hand itches to reach out and touch him again, to smooth against his forehead or cup his cheek, maybe place your fingers under his chin to help close his mouth in hopes of him breathing through his nose instead so his mouth doesn’t dry out. 

You’re not sure where this desire is coming from. You’re as affectionate with your patients as any nurse should be - kind and supportive, offering comfort when needed, but not overly so that it can be considered inappropriate. You’re all brothers and sisters, children of God - yes. But there are still social norms that must be considered. 

It feels different with Billy for some reason. 

“I’m going to get you to safety,” You whisper. You’re unsure about if he can hear you in his sleep or not, but you feel the need to tell him anyway. “I promise.”

You fall asleep at some point during the night, slumped against the wall next to the alcove’s entrance. 

You don’t remember falling asleep. You remember feeling tired, exhausted by the stress of the day’s events, and how your eyelids were threatening to close permanently more and more with each blink. The soup you had made still sat out in the small kitchen, and you had wanted to stay close to Billy so that whenever he awoke, you would be there ready to help feed him.

Instead, you wake to the sound of Sister Maria giggling to your left and a low, unfamiliar but still soft voice speaking in Spanish to her.

“Y él no quería que su mamá lo supiera. Así enterró la carne en el jardín,” The voice lets out a small chuckle, the smile on his face evident in his tone despite you not being able to understand most of his words. “Pero el perro la desenterró y ella se descubrió de todos modos. Tuvo que lavar platos él solo por dos meses.”

“Ese niño,” Sister Maria laughs. “Parece que era un buen amigo.”

You can’t see his face, but you can hear how he loses the smile in his voice. “Sí, él era,”

Pushing yourself to your feet, you step over to where Sister Maria is kneeling in front of Billy’s cot. It’s only now you see the mostly finished bowl of soup in her hands. Billy’s sitting up slightly, back propped up against his pillows enough to allow him to sit up a bit straighter but not enough to pull too much on his stitches.

At seeing your movement, his eyes snap to your approaching frame, big blue orbs staring up at you and you can’t help the relief you feel at seeing them.

“You’re awake,” You breathe, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Thank the Lord,”

His lips twitch a bit in what looks like a suppressed smile. “Kinda sounds like I should be thankin' you,” He says, and you notice how prominent the shift in his accent is as he seamlessly switches from Spanish to English. “Sister Maria says that you’re the only reason I’m alive right now.”

You shake your head, humbly. “Oh, no. Sister Maria and I work together as a team. I couldn’t have done it without her aid,”

“You show no fear,” Sister Maria insists. “Where I hesitate, you show mercy and strength. It is because of you that we are all alive now.”

“See?” Billy says with a blinding grin, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he is while no longer at death’s door. “My angel,”

You feel your face heat up at the endearment. An angel. Surely the comparison shouldn’t fluster you like it does. You’ve thought of your fellow nuns as the embodiment of angels before, angelic beings put into human bodies by the grace of God to spread His word. You know that’s not exactly true, that you’re just using your belief of what God’s angels would be like and seeing those beings in your fellow Sisters just like Billy is doing with you now, but you’ve never once thought yourself to be comparable to such a holy being and the compliment makes you flush.

You run a hand across your face, feeling the warmth under your palm, and clear your throat. “Oh, well, thank you,”

Sister Maria stands, taking the nearly finished bowl of soup with her. “He has eaten plenty and I changed his covering as soon as he woke up. You will want to change it again when you get to the cabin.”

“That’s great. Thank you,”

“De nada. I’ll go check on the patients and keep an eye out for Sam,”

She nods to you and Billy before she turns to leave, a small smile pulling at her lips when Billy rasps out a soft, “Gracias, Hermana,”

When she’s gone, you take her place in front of Billy, kneeling at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better thanks to you,” He responds, wide eyes trained on yours, a smirk playing at his lips as he continues. “Don’t feel much like I’m dyin’ anymore,”

A small laugh escapes you at his morbid joke. “Well, I’d say that’s a very good thing then,”

“Sister Maria said the Sheriff came lookin’ for me,” 

“He did,” You confirm. “The Lord kept us all safe though and has given us an opportunity to get you to safety.”

Billy’s eyebrow raises skeptically. “Sounds like it was more your doin' than the Lord’s,”

You try to not let the slight against God rattle you. You had sensed this was coming anyway. William H. Bonney a.k.a Billy the Kid is an outlaw afterall, and no outlaw becomes an outlaw while still maintaining a positive relationship with the Heavenly Father. He’s gone through many hardships no doubt, and has more than likely deemed his bad luck in life as God’s personal vendetta against him.

“The Lord speaks through all of us, if only we have an open heart to hear him.” You tell him.  “Fear can make His words harder to hear, and I’m thankful that He was able to guide my mind and heart enough through the fear for us to get to safety.”

“Hm,” Billy hums, and you can tell how much he doesn’t believe your words. He doesn’t argue though. “And where exactly is this safe place you’re gonna take me?”

“My brother has a cabin just outside of town. It’s well secluded and unknown to most. We’ll be safe there until you’re healed enough to go on your own.”

Billy’s eyes drop to your hand still resting on his shoulder, thick dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks before his bright blue eyes are locked on yours again. “You gonna be takin’ care of me, Sister?”

“Of course, I will,” You reply. “We shall see you well again, Billy. I promise.”

His own arm crosses his chest so his hand can rest on your own, his eyes wide and so earnest as he whispers a quiet, “Thank you,”

It’s only about an hour longer before Sam arrives. It’s still early morning, the sun still a ways away from coming up behind the horizon line, and town is silent. Sam pulls his wagon up to the back door of the backroom before coming around the front to help push it open from the inside. It’s been so long since it’s been opened. The door was once used for the scheduled delivery of goods for easy access to the storage area, but as years went on and the county and surrounding counties became overrun with greed and poverty, the shipments became less frequent. Now, anything needed just comes through the front door. It’s never too much anyway, so what’s a trip or two to the backroom while carrying a crate. 

Sam slams his body against the door a few times, the wood groaning in protest under his weight before it finally swings open. Billy watches from his place on the cot, his eyes threatening to close but forcing himself to stay awake. You want to tell him to sleep, he needs his rest to help him heal and recover, but you’re too busy checking your bag to make sure you haven't forgotten anything before tossing it in the back of the wagon. You need to leave before the townspeople start to wake up. If someone sees you, if just one person witnesses you smuggling away a wanted outlaw, then all of this would have been for nothing. 

“Sister y/n,” Sam calls, squatting at the head of the cot. He’s got his arms wrapped around Billy’s torso. “Come grab his legs. We’ll do our best not to jostle his wound,”

You come to a kneel at Billy’s legs, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “Do your best to relax, okay? If you tense, you might tear your stitches,”

Billy lets out a harsh breath through his nose, clearly nervous, but he nods anyway, brows furrowed in determination. 

Together you and Sam hoist him up. He gasps, groaning as his wound pulls but you can see how he’s trying to keep his stomach untensed. Getting him into the back of the wagon is not graceful, and you find yourself spewing endless apologies the whole time despite the relatively short journey. 

Sam’s laid out a bed of hay covered by two thick blankets throughout the entire bed of the wagon. Crates of food and other supplies take up half of the bed, but he’s managed to make it so Billy will have enough room to lay comfortably on his designated side. Billy sighs as he’s laid down on it, one of his legs bent at the knee and his palms pressing into the makeshift mattress as he cranes his neck up to look at you. You ball up a spare blanket, tucking it under his head before you push him back down with a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Rest now, Billy,” You tell him, crawling out backwards and helping Sam slide on the rectangular backing on the wagon to secure it shut. “We’ll be there when you wake up,”

His eyes stay locked on you as you circle the wagon towards the front. Sam helps you up onto the spring seat before jogging around the rear and hauling himself into the driver's seat. You smooth out your tunic, looking around the dark street for any suspicious or wandering eyes that might be peeking out from around buildings or through windows. You don’t see any, even as one of the horses whinnies when Sam urges them forward. The clinic is located towards the edge of town, so it only takes a few minutes of nervous eyes and your head on a swivel before the wagon is passing the final few buildings that mark the town’s end of population and you can relax.

You blow out a deep breath, meeting Sam’s equally relieved gaze as he snaps the reins and nudges the horses a little faster. You look over your shoulder to check on Billy and you’re expecting to see him sleeping, no doubt still exhausted from the trauma of taking a bullet. Instead, he’s looking at you, head twisting so he can see your elevated frame from his laid out position. His eyes seem to pierce into yours, so blue and intense as he watches you that it makes your breathing hitch in your throat. 

You’ve never seen eyes so beautiful before. Like endless pools of glistening water. Surely God must have taken much care when crafting them for him. 

You feel your skin prickle under his stare, body straightening in your seat. He doesn’t stop watching you.

“Sleep,” You tell him. “You’re safe, I promise.” And thankfully he listens, eyes trained on your face for just a moment more before closing his eyes. The tingling feeling in your body dissipates with the removed gaze. 

Your gaze turns around the front again, looking out to the vast stretch of land before you as you leave the civilization of town behind.

“Sam,” You start, looking for anything to pass the time and distract from whatever unusualness just happened between you and your charge. “How’s your mother?”

[cervvsq]

perturbed.

MDNI — 18+ only.

academy!coryo x virgin!reader

summary: in which you and coryo in your relationship reach the point where you want to try sex for the first time — yet it doesn’t go very well.

warnings: p in v, smut, fingering, implied oral sex (f receiving), fluff, distressing theme, read at own risk.

“coryo!” you giggled, your head which was once thrown back now leaning down to cup his beautiful face up to yours, connecting his pillowy lips back onto yours. “—my parents are gonna be home soon, baby.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured. you smiled as you looked down at him, his lips tugging up into a small smirk as he leant down to place peppery kisses along your jaw, to your neck, to your shoulder.

laying in your cozy bed, legs tangled together, you and your boyfriend pawed at each other. your parents had left home a few hours ago, and could be back any minute. however, coriolanus would never let anything get in the way of having his girl, in his arms, with his lips on her.

his hand gently smoothed down your body, reaching your silk shorts, which fortunately granted easy access for his hungry hand to slip underneath. you whimpered at the feeling of his slender finger sliding ever so slowly up your already damp slit through your thin, lacy underwear. “already soaked for me, dove?” coryo whispered against your lips, before gently pulling your panties aside and pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit. an unsolicited moan left your lips. he pushed one of his fingers in, his thumb still slowly rubbing circles over your clit, causing spasms of pleasure through your body. his finger felt so good pumping in and out of you, and your back arched at his touch, your breasts pressing against his chest. the feeling made his rock-hard cock twitch in his boxers, which you felt against your thigh.

oh.

right.

his cock.

in your whole 5 months of dating, you had never really done anything with his dick. simply always throbbing against you whenever you did this. it was always him fingering you, eating you like his last meal, or rubbing your clit till you were on the brink of orgasm. not like you were complaining, of course — but you had nearly forgotten that he had needs too. you wanted - no, ached - to give him the same amount of pleasure he would grant you nearly every fortnight.

while moans left your lips as you neared your orgasm, your mind was still thinking on how you could repay him back. you could jerk him off? no, he deserved better than that. he probably did it every night anyway. you could suck him off? no, too scary.

your mind couldn’t really think of anything else due to your inexperience and, well, because of the second digit he had shoved in you. your mind landed on the last option you had in your love drunk mind.

sex.

your heart skipped a beat at that. nervousness, anticipation, lust. it wouldn’t be your biggest regret, if you ended up breaking up. you concluded. coryo, in your eyes, was a good, loving, and gentle boyfriend. and man. he took care of his cousin, grandma’am, and you. with a deep breath, you pulled your panting lips away from his.

“wait, coryo,” you murmured, looking up at him. he looked angelic in this moment. he hummed back, his eyes changing to concern at your sudden interruption, scanning your face for any discomfort. “i wanna try something.” you whispered.

“i think…” your voice was a small, delicate tone. your eyes watched your finger begin to trail down his abs slowly, too embarrassed on the inside to be making eye contact at this moment. “i think i’m ready. to… have sex.”

his fingers inside you stilled. pulling out of you, he rested the hand on your waist as he used his other to gently pull your chin up to look at him. you obeyed. the look in his eyes was genuine, a caring, comforting look in them. but you saw, behind the honest blue, the hint of primal hunger in them at the thought of fucking you senseless.

“baby… i… are you sure? 100% sure? you’re not pressured by me, right? don’t think you owe me anything, darling.” he assured you, pushing down the intruding thoughts of you bent over his sink as he railed you relentlessly. or your legs hooked over his shoulders as he looked into your eyes whilst abusing your pussy. the scenarios what would race through his mind at night whilst he fisted his cock savagely.

you shook your head, your forehead leaning forward to press against his as you look into his eyes. “no, i know. i want to, coryo. please. i… i need your cock.” you whined, your hips rolling against his extremely stiff dick through his strained boxers.

after a couple more reassurances, he finally was lined up against your cunt, and your heart was beating so fast you thought you were gonna implode. you should be feeling turned on. you should be still gushing at the anticipation of what was about to happen. so why do you feel scared?

coryo didn’t notice at first. he pushed in slowly, checking every second that you were okay. you simply nodded. you didn’t moan. you wanted to. you wanted to be scratching his back, screaming his name, bucking your hips up into his. but instead, you had tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.

everything was muffled, seeming like it was going in slow motion around you. the sounds of his hips slapping against your skin was a distant memory — even though it was happening this very minute.

his grunts and dirty words which left his throat was unfamiliar. it didn’t feel real. the ringing in your ears grew louder and louder, and soon enough tears were streaming down your face.

coryo’s face was buried into the crook of your neck as he thrusted deeply, not realising the sudden blood around his cock inside of you. the way your chest heaved up and down quickly didn’t even occur to him that it was because you were writhing in pain — the whimpers and moans which left your lips was most definitely not of pleasure and the salty wisps of wetness coating your cheeks was not tears of pleasure. it was only the strangled sob of “stop,” that you don’t even remember leaving your mouth was the only thing that got him to look up. the sight of his face dropping and frantic words of worry he spoke wasn’t even audible to you. the feeling of the warm cloth he had gotten from the bathroom to clean up the blood was like having hypoesthesia against your numbness. you were detached from your soul — watching it all happen from above. third person. were you a narrator in your own world?

you were brought back when you felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as he whispered nonstop apologies against your hair, his hands gently cradling you against his chest, in his lap as if you were a priceless china doll which would break if looked at the wrong way. an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over you, and you burst into tears.

it wasn’t meant to be like this. why can’t you get this perturbation out of your body?

[slutforsnow]

I giggled so hard I gagged I'm so Violet 😭✋🏼

william h. bonney — s1, episode 4.

[littlemissmiller]

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: you’ve been billy’s best friend since he came to Santa Fe. You two always got into trouble together, but lately he’s been distant. one night, billy gets into a fight after a poker game gets out of hand. he comes to you, hoping you’ll bandage him up without giving him anymore trouble than he’s already been in. as you help fix him up, you can’t help but notice how truly handsome he is and then, one thing leads to another…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), heavy fluff, smut, p in v , oral (f reviving) slight dirty talk

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: hello hello hello! i’m back with another lil spicy read. this one is so cute and fluffy and took me forever to write but here we are and i hope to get more out with the show being back. unfortunately I haven’t had time to watch the new episodes but i plan on it tonight. also i do take requests (i mainly write for pedro pascal and tom blyth, but I do a lot of other fandoms too so just ask.) so yeah…it’s a hot fan fiction summer y’all so get ready for the heat 🔥🥵 enjoy loves ♡︎

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

It is a warm night. The kinda night that smells fresh and ready for adventure. Billy’s favorite kind of nights. The kind of nights that Billy just loves to make memories getting into trouble. When you and him were kids, there was nothing better than sneaking out with Billy. Going out into town, sneaking into bars mainly, but occasionally the two of you would ride out into the hills, just to get a better view of the stars. Sharing a bottle of stolen liquor from the local boarding house, the two of you would gaze up, trying to count them all and connecting the dots into your own pictures and making up your own stories. You always had a soft spot in your heart for him, and truly felt as if that feeling only extended to a friendship. That’s what you told yourself anyways.

So tonight reminded him of one of those many nights he had shared with you. As he enters the saloon, he feels lucky and optimistic. But as he exits, he stumbles into the dirt pavement as he’s pushed back onto the ground by another patron.

“You’re a damn cheat kid!” A burly man yelled down at Billy

He spits the blood out of his mouth and glances his eyes back onto the man who hit him. He stands over Billy, his angry scowl growing on his face.

“I play fair. Can’t help you, can't take it on the chin like a real man.” Billy spits at him

With that the man moves in, running up to kick him in the stomach. Billy, quick as ever, turns over and runs back up on his feet. He holds his hand over his holster, ready to defend himself if need be, even though he was still practicing his quick draw in his mirror, he wasn’t a bad shot. The man strode forward, snarling at him, drunkenly raising his right hook. Billy easily avoided him, but suddenly another man grabbed his shoulder and he tried to wrangle himself free. The drunk man launches forward, aiming for his face, missing, but still landing a nasty punch to his stomach. He spits out more blood, but holds his head up. The man swings again, this time landing him square in the jaw. Billy could feel the cold metal of his ring as it grazes against his chin.

Billy grunts, the man holding him from behind knees him hard under his thighs and Billy decides he has had enough. In a moment of quick thinking, Billy kicks in the kneecaps of the man holding him, and he falls back. Billy whips out his pistol, and points it at the drunk man. The drunk man, seemingly not aware or afraid of the gun in his face lunges toward him, but in his drunken state, he falls down. Billy spits on him, kicking the dirt up in his face as he runs off, heading in the direction of your house.

Meanwhile, you’re still awake, deeply immersed in an old copy of Romeo and Juliet. The flame from your candle was slowly lulling you into sleep and just as you’re about to blow it out, you hear a rapid knocking on your door. You have a feeling you know who it is, but nonetheless you call out asking “who is it?”while opening the door.

Billy stands at your doorway, holding his stomach, bent over slightly. His lip is beat and bloody. His eyes look up at your own briefly as he whines in pain. You usher him inside and he limps in.

“Christ Billy, what happened?”

“Man couldn’t handle a poker loss.” He explains, reaching into his back pocket and lays down a wad of cash, about $10 worth.

“You won that?”

“Yeah. Gotta keep some money safe for my Ma. Those assholes were so drunk they forgot how to count chips” he groans, stumbling into your kitchen chair. He continues to hold his stomach in pain.

“They think you tried to cheat them?” You ask

He nods, wincing, his face scrunching up in pain. You rush over to him, kneeling at his side.

“Well, your ma is going to be in a fit if she sees you like this.” You say, fingers dancing across his jaw. You move his chin to get a better look at his swollen lip. Whoever had fought him, had given him.

“Yeah. Plan is to be out all day tomorrow. Let the swelling die down. But for now, can you help patch me up?” He groans

“Oh” you scoff jokingly

You stand up, smiling at him, and heading into your bedroom to grab a first aid kit. You were no nurse, but you knew how to help bandage him up enough so that you can make him look pretty again. It was hard to deny that your best friend is unbearably handsome. It wasn’t something you had noticed before, especially growing up, but this summer he had changed. His face had lost all its round baby fat, and his sharp features showed just how handsome he really was. You think it’s his eyes. They are a deep blue, and stand out from the rest of his features. They capture you and draw you into him.

Nowadays, every time you look into them you nearly drown. Your thoughts get carried away with the thought of him bare on top of you, those same eyes trailing down your body, admiring your beauty. You have to frequently remind yourself to think of other things.

You scurry back into your kitchen. You run over to your liquor cabinet, grabbing the highest proof whisky you have. You turn and kneel back beside him. You open the kit, and get out some bandages. You unscrew the cap to the whiskey and pour some of it on a cloth.

“I’d much rather just drink it.” He smirks

“Fine, but I still need to clean your wound.” You explain, dapping the cloth on his split open mouth. He winces at the sting of the alcohol. He pulls back in pain, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig.

“Fuck” he grits

“I know I know I’m sorry…just let me…” you apologize, dabbing under his lip and on his jaw where a fresh cut had been sitting on his chin.

“This cut? Did one of them have a ring.”

“I guess so.”

You sigh. He sounds so reckless. So careless in his demeanor. Yet, as you clean him off you can’t help but admire how smooth his skin is, how this closeness felt strangely intimate. The overwhelming feeling to kiss his perfect jawline was a temptation like no other. The way his beautiful eyes occasionally glances at you makes your heart melt, and your breath feels shaky. You calm yourself and refocus your attention back on his bloody face.

“Oh Billy…” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Ain’t my fault I’m a good card player. Ain’t my fault I’m young and better enough to beat them old men at their own game.”

“You just need to be more careful Billy. One of these days you’re gonna get really hurt.” You warn

“I can handle myself.” He quips

“Yeah apparently enough to go on adventures all by yourself now huh?” You raise an eyebrow at him

He scoffs and hangs his head, turning away from you.

“You know one of these days Billy you’re gonna get too ahead of yourself and get into real trouble. Real trouble you ain’t gonna get yourself out of. Then what?” You ask, cleaning up the last of the blood.

At this point, Billy was on the brink of losing it. Why are you giving him so much grief over this? A bar fight nonetheless? Something as naturally occurring as the desert heat in Santa Fe. Angry, you force him to look at you, turning his chin toward you.

He huffs, his breathing heavy.

“Do you really want your poor Ma to visit you in a jail cell?”

You take it too far. Even you know it. The moment the sentence spills for your lips it hits Billy’s ears like a ton of bricks.

“I just- I’m sorry I just…”

Billy grabs your hand, forcing it away from his chin and into your lap.

“No. You’ve said enough. I thought you were my friend. Why you talking down on me like you raised me?” He sneers

“Because I don’t want to see you hanging from a tree!” You shout

Billy’s eyes widen and yours fill up with tears.

“And one of these days I’m afraid that that’s the last I’ll ever see of ya! Since you like to run on your own now. I guess I ain’t good enough to tag along with you anymore either?”

“Is this what you’re mad about? I don’t understand you’re worried I’m gonna get myself into trouble, but you also want to seem to tag along. So which one is it?” He asks, shaking his head.

“Maybe I want to tag along to make sure you stay out of trouble.” You whisper harshly, holding back your sobs.

He hangs his head, sighing your name.

“Maybe I don’t take you anywhere no more to keep you safe. You know I ain’t nothing but trouble these days.”

“You say that like it’s written in stone somewhere. Like it’s meant to be. Why Billy? Why do you think you have to be no good?

“I don’t think I have to be, but if I wanna protect my family then I may have to do things I ain’t proud of…especially if I have to protect you…” he breathes

“What do you mean?”

“Ain’t it obvious, darling?”

You shake your head in confusion and raise an eyebrow

“No?”

He sighs and leans in.

“Because you mean everything to me.” He gasps and not being able to control himself any longer, he swiftly cups your face, dragging your face to his own and kisses you deeply. You moan in surprise, letting his soft lips consume your own. He pulls back all too quickly though, feeling guilty for being so bold. What if you didn’t like him like that? Then you nod and he smiles. His lips look so soft and inviting and you lean back in. You firmly press your lips against his, your hand clutching the back of his head, pushing him towards you. You run your fingers through his brown soft locks. You’re kissing him back, and seem to want more, which Billy didn’t expect.

“See you what I mean?” He mumbles against your lips, smiling.

You nod in response.

“Billy…” you whisper

“Yes, darling?”

You stand up and slide onto his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.”

“Me too, I thought maybe you’d reject me.” He smiles, gently rubbing your thigh, hiking your dress up slightly.

“Why do you think I was so upset with you? You smile and with his other hand, he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I was so distant, but now you know why I’ve been acting like you’re nothing to me. I’ve been a complete ass I know. Let me make it up to you?”

He leans in again as you nod. Now that your collective previously unspoken feelings have come to light, there is no holding back. For both of you. Billy moves more quickly, his mouth becoming more needy for you, and you love it. He pokes his tongue through, exploring your mouth. You let him in, wanting more of whatever he gives you. You can’t help but moan against his mouth and he holds your face tighter. You can barely keep up with him, it’s so apparent that he wants you based on the way he practically consumes you. Every kiss feels like a flame that burns your lips, seering the very memory of his lip on your own. You could do this for hours. Kissing Billy was one thing, but completely losing yourself in this messy, raw passion was another. He pulls back to look at you, capturing the moment and image of you to memory. You can tell he wants to say something, but you already know.

“I know Billy, me too…”

He smirks and places a quick kiss on your lips. He smiles, giving you the most goofy, boyish look. He rubs your cheeks in his hands, feeling ever so loved by him. He moved them to your neck and continues to kiss you. He moves his mouth slowly to your chin, down to your jawline and onto your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more space and he practically attacks you. You gasp as he moves his hands down under your dress and up your thighs.

“Can I?” He breathes

“You can…take me to my room first” you whisper, batting your eyes at him. He nods enthusiastically, waiting no time to swoop you up into his arms. Your legs dangle from the crook of his elbow and you hang onto him. He kisses your neck and jaw and he carries you into your bedroom. Once there, he sets you down on the bed and slips his suspenders off his shoulders. He starts to unbutton his shirt, then falls onto you, catching himself and caging you with his arms. He just can’t help himself. He wants to kiss you now that he has you all to himself. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, tossing it aside and dancing his fingers up to the strings of your dress. You admire his lean figure, his body so toned and handsome.

“Now can I?” He smirks

You nod and he starts to untie the front of your dress. His eyes meet your own, and you start to feel lost in the ocean of his irises. Once he loosens your dress he pulls it past your shoulders, his fingers dancing over your collar bone, following the delicate fabric as it falls down your body. He leans down, kissing the crook of your neck, shoulder and just along your cleavage. You grasp the back of his head, close your eyes and let yourself go under the touch of his lips. You start to slowly and quietly chant his name, fingers running up and down his neck as the sensation of his touch sends you into bliss. He smiles as he presses his mouth against your skin, soaking in the way you melt under him.

“Is this ok?” He asks

“Of course, Billy. Please, don’t stop…” you plea

He slips your dress down more, revealing your chest to him. He gaps in awe, starting to cup and knead your breast. He pinches the nipple before diving down and sucking. You arch your back in response, moaning and biting down on your lip. He swirls it around his mouth, before moving his lips to give the other breast the same attention. His other hand moves down to hike up your dress and he finds the lining of your panties. He looks at you again for approval and you mouth “yes” to him.

With that, he pulls them down and tosses them aside. He trails his fingers to your core, finding your heat and rubbing your clit. He is slow and you love it. He wants to take his time with you, show you how much he loves you and wants to please you. You spread your legs, knees drawing closer to your chest. He shuffles his body more in-between them. He starts to move his hips against you, excited at the idea of seeing you fully bare before him. You simultaneously shift out of your dress, Billy helping to pull the rest down. Once you are fully naked, he takes time to take you in.

“Christ darling, you’re a beauty.”

He rubs your hips, running his hands up to your waist and gripping tight. He pulls you forward as he slides down the bed onto his knees.

“Billy you don’t have to…” you breath

He kisses your thigh and smiles greedily.

“Believe me I want to. Let me?” He practically begs, doe eyes glimmering with desire.

You push your hips forward, readjusting to get closer to his face. You nod wordlessly and he kisses up your thigh. Once he reaches your core, he cautiously presses a kiss to your clit. You gasp, resting on your elbows as you start to feel your body relax on his tongue. He licks a curious broad stripe up your entire slit, before giving it small, precise kitten licks. Then, he wraps his mouth around it, sucking and pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Meanwhile, you let your moans and whines stumble from your lips. He loves it, your sounds of pleasure showing him just how much you wanted him.

At this point Billy feels drunker than whiskey off the taste of you, your juices a delicious, exotic, elixir to him. Like water in the desert, he drinks you up. He holds your thighs in his arms, massaging them while he moves his face as he also moves his tongue. You grab his hair, his soft brown lock tangling in your fingers. You also grab onto one of the hands grabbing your thigh. He glances up at you, pulling back for a moment to smile at you and appreciating your affectionate attention. You love the way he makes you feel and he can tell.

“Feels so good, fuck keep going…”

“So vulgar.” He smirks

“Are you kidding me, my best friend is eating me out and he’s doing a god damn spectacular job of it. How could I not let my tongue get the better of me.” You smirk, lips sliding into a satisfied grin.

“I’m still just your best friend…”

“Maybe a little bit more than a friend after tonight. Is that what you want?” You ask, dreamily

“Yes, darling, more than anything.”

He dives back in, lapping you up and greedily drinking your juices again. He’s almost animalistic as he moves his month, hands moving to grope your ass. You lift your hips to allow him. He moans against your core, needing more and more of you. He gives your clit a few soft kisses, then pulls back and climbs back on top of you.

As he does, he loosens his belt and starts to pull down his pants. He slides out of them, showing you the growing bulge in between his legs. He takes himself in his hand, stroking and you gawk at him. You had always heard that taller, leaner men had the real tools to satisfy a woman and it seems Billy was living proof. His cock was so long and thick, tip red and ready. He wipes the pre-cum along it, moving it down his shaft, slightly lubing himself. You love that you and him are bare like this and you readjust your hips in anticipation. He licks his hand then places it on your pussy, swirling his fingers.

You clutch his biceps, mouth agape as he rubs your entrance with his tip.

“Please…” you beg

He slides in, stretching you out perfectly.

“Mmmm oh fuck, you’re so perfect wrapped around me.”

He sinks in deeper and deeper until he hits your cervix. You let out a loud groan, adjusting to his size. He cups your face, going back and forth in between your beautiful eyes and the place where his cock meets your entrance. He moves his hips slowly, afraid that he might hurt you. After a few thrusts you start to feel your pleasure return, and you ride your new wave of ecstasy. He feels so incredible, his length filling you up so perfectly and as he speeds up, you feel overwhelmed. The rhythm of his cock so relaxing and mesmerizing, it almost lulls you to sleep. He notices and kisses you.

“Fuck Billy, I wanted you like this so bad.”

“Me too, so fucking bad.”

He quickens his pace, giving you more of him and you smile against his lips. You let out a few breathy laughs and he rocks you on the bed. He keeps going like this for a while, kissing you and admiring your beauty.

“Maybe we should withhold our feelings from each other more often, because I don’t know about you but admitting your love for me like this feels incredible.” You mumble

“Mmm I could be in you all night.” He responds

“I have no quarrel with that.”

Billy and you both share a small, quaint laugh and he rolls you over. He starts to sit up and his lips lock with your own. He starts to move your hips and in return you pick them up and bounce. He pulls back, gasping and watches you as you move on him. He utterly transfixed on how your waist and hips move smoothly, how your tits bounce, and how elegant you are. You’re made for him. He moves his hand up and down your stomach and you steady yourself, placing your hands around his neck. Tempted by the way you move on him, he pops one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking at your flesh. He pulls your nipple into his mouth, making you groan and clutch his head.

“My god how did you get to be so perfect?” He questions

“Am I perfect?” You snicker

“More than that, if even possible.”

“Now you’re just being nice” you huff

“Not true darling, not true at all.”

Before you can protest, his lips silence you. Billy pumps into you, lips refusing to leave yours as he feels you clench down on him. You’re close and you cling to him as he sends you over the edge.

“Oh Billy, Billy, you’re gonna make me…you’re gonna make me cum…1fuck!”

He nods into the crook of your neck and you feel yourself becoming undone. You writhe on top of him, arching your back and letting the euphoria overtake you. You reach a peak then slowly come down, catching your breath as you do. He flips you over, eager to satisfy his own needs. He pumps his length into you, messily, his actions becoming more and more sloppy. You can feel he’s close.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum on your stomach okay?” He informs and you nod.

A few more pumps and then, he pulls out. Strings a warm, white cum spill onto your stomach and even up to the valley of your breasts. He rubs himself as the last few drops spill from his tip. He catches his breath, looking around for something to clean you off with. He reaches over on the night stand and takes the towel from inside the wash basin. He cleans you up, then kisses you softly.

“I love you. I always have.” He whispers

“Me too Billy. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

꧁✩★✩꧂

[floralcyanide]

if anyone wants to share billy the kid or coriolanus snow thoughts (of any kind) feel free to send them in! feeling a little better today and I’m kinda bored so 😩

[slutforsnow]

Hey there, I believe Billy would be such a clingy lover, like: holding you tight while fucking, loooooots of tongue-kissing, I DARE SAY EVEN some lover language close to baby talk 🫣

HE WOULD ABSO-FUCKIN'-LUTELY

⚠️MDNI⚠️

When fucking, Billy is holding you so tight that before you start bruising before he starts thrusting 🫡 and if you're wearing his hat say goodbye to your ability to walk for the next 2-3 weeks.

Tomgue-kissing? Don't even get me started cause regular kissing is already knee-weakening, but TONGUE-KISSING??? Oh that is such an ETHEREAL FEELING. He's pulling noises out of you from the depths of your SOUL that he hasn't heard before.

And dirty talk? Oh darlin' he's speakin' like (also apologies, I'm not good at baby talk 🫡🥲)

"Awh, baby, ya doin' so good f'me, c'mon, you take another finger, hm?"

"Oh, don't be a brat, I don't wanna have to spank my pretty baby."

"Baby, if you don't your pretty lil' ass back here, I won't let you finish."

And he's doing while teasing your clit with his thumb, using his free hand to play with your nipple, and making all sorts of love bites.