#Blade of Demon Destruction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 2 years ago

Text

L'appel du Vide

Pairing- Sully Family x Sully!Reader

Summary- You feel the urge to engage in destructive behaviors just to feel alive and your family wants to get to the bottom.

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Warnings- self destructive thoughts/actions, getting slapped, biting someone's ear off, hateful thoughts, description of self harm, self harm, blood/bleeding, crying lmk if I missed something

A/N- did I cry writing the last part bc of my crippling mommy issues yes yes I did but we don't talk about it also tell me how it is 🤭🤭

It's like a call to a void, the adrenaline of putting yourself in danger. Like jumping off a cliff not knowing if your banshee is going to catch you, or slicing your hand with an open blade, or getting into a fight with someone ten times bigger than you. It made you feel real, made you feel alive. And if your not doing it your thinking of it. So why wouldn't you go with your siblings to the old battle field.

"Tuk keep up." Lo'ak said as you pushed a branch out of the way. "Why'd you bring her?" Spider asked and Lo'ak huffed. "She's always like 'I'm telling if you don't let me come you know your not supposed to go to the old battlefield " Lo'ak mocks your younger sibling only making Spider laugh and you roll your eyes at his childish tactics. Tuk pokes her tongue out at him and Kiri comes to her defense. "Don't pick on her." And finally you make it, you and Lo'ak crouch Kiri beside you. "Dad is going to ground you," she whispered to you, "shush can you stop." You reply and she only rolls her eyes. "For life."

behind some bushes you and Lo'ak look around there was all kind of rubble and metal on the ground you hit Lo'ak on the stomach to get his attention. "Let's look around." You say before immediately jumping back, Avatars. "Shit." You whisper Lo'ak looks at them his body freezes. "We have to tell dad." Kiri whispers. Lo'ak goes to touch the microphone on his neck. "Hey dad." Lo'ak whispers, your eyes were glued to the avatars.

"Lo'ak." You hear your father's gruff voice over the ear piece. "Yes we are at the old battle field and there are some Avatars we've never seen them." Silence, "Who is we." Was all your father said afterward you and Lo'ak share a look. "Me, Y/N, spider, Kiri and Tuk." He paused before he said Tuk and you could hear your father sigh. "Just stay safe, Lo'ak Lo'ak!"

Suddenly before you could think your queue was being pulled roughly making you wince in pain. You look around at the kidnappers around you. The avatars. "Show me your fingers." An older man said to Lo'ak and he flips him off and give a screechy hiss and you laugh loudly making Lo'ak chuckle. "Your his alright and you," he says turning around to you pointing a finger. "Your a cute little thing aren't ya' think that's funny?" He asked. You cringe at his statement. "I do actually." He smirks gripping your face. "We'll keep you." He said and all you did was hiss it was deeper and louder than the one Lo'ak previously did.

He gives you a hard slap and all you did was smile as you hear your mother's war call. The man's face fell, "I will kill you as many times as I have to demon." Was the last thing you heard before you saw your father and brother, Neteyam sweep in and get the avatars holding your siblings but they couldn't help you but you didn't need any. As your father held you sister in her arms you took this chance to kick the man holding you kick him in the knee he filps you around arms locking around you and before you knew it you opened your mouth clamping down on the first thing near you and it came off in your mouth the taste of iron on your tongue filling your mouth, the man screamed letting you fall to the ground. You jump up and spit the piece of skin in your mouth blood spilling from it as you spit. "She bit my ear off! The bitch bit my ear off!" He yelled you smiled as you pick a gun up that he had dropped and run off next to your dad.

It was hell after you got home. Your father yelled at you and Lo'ak about how irresponsible you two were and how stupid it was to attack the man holding you. But, this was the usual for you not taking anything to heart but you could see Lo'ak every heart breaking thing your father said to you two it stabbed him a hundred times over. And then your father put everyone of lock down and suddenly everything darkened around you, it felt like you were a dead person in someone you didn't know, like your family and friends weren't really your family and friends.

So there you are sitting at the back of your families home watching the sky, you had the razor blade you swiped from Norm in hand and all of those bad thoughts flew into you again. You griped the balde t as tears fell down your face, "Your not real." Your head thought. "Your nothing." The thoughts consumed you as the blade got closer and closer to your skin and it made contact you held it to the base of your palm. Your eyes clench closed as you held the blade hard and sliced all the way down, the throbbing pain was there and then you take the balde off of your palm and as the blood dropped from your hand, and a sense of comfort fell over you.

Your mother looked at your hand as she wrapped it up, "And you say you accidentally cut yourself when sharpening your dagger." She asked once again and you smile. "Yes I was being stupid I know." You laugh as she lets go of your hand. Before you asked your mother to wrap your hand your father gave you the news you had to leave, it hurt it really did you were leaving the only place you called home but you knew you had to stay strong for your siblings for your Mother.

When you finally made it to the Meykayina all of their eyes were on you and your family it was strange, unsettling. It only got worse the more you stayed there people made fun of you, of your siblings. And that feeling you knew all to well came back you had to cut, and everytime you had a quick explanation. Soon you had scars in various parts of your body, on your sides, inner and outer thighs, your calfs, you even had to wrap you hands up. And after an altercation with Lo'ak and the chiefs son they were forcing you and your siblings to hang out with him and his sister Tsireya. She was nice, sweet you sort of envied her but didn't show it. "Hey forest people." Ao'nung laughed and all you did was roll your eyes. "Hey fish boy." You reply opening your eyes and giving him a sarcastic smile.

He looks taken back but Kiri and Lo'ak burst into laughter as Neteyam hits your arm. "Let's get this day over with." He said getting the ilus saddled up. You stand up and head towards your ikran and they just look at you. "Forest girl where you going!?" Ao'nung yells and you turn around. "I'm going to ride Amhel." And then Neteyam huffed. "What is wrong Neteyam?" Tsireya asked as she lifted her leg over her ilu. "When she rides Amhel that means shes gonna do something stupid and then get in trouble for it." He shook his head as you jumped into her and connected taking off into the sky. It was a dangerous speed, but you didn't care. You did all kinds of things in the air the farther you got into sea. "Flip upside down." You thought and that's what she did. "She's not strapped in!" Tsireya yells watching you as you let your arms swing in the air. Neteyam watched he hates when you did this, but he couldn't stop you.

You made it to the island you land on the warm sand and hop off as the other five to make it to you. Kiri hit you upside the head. "Why are you so stupid always doing dangerous things." She scolded. "Ah and it's not dangerous it's fun have some." You joke rubbing the sore spot she made. "Fun? We rather keep our lives thank you." Neteyam chimed in and you only rolled your eyes. "If I wanted to get scolded I would have stayed with mom and dad..." Trailed off by seeing a huge rock. It was beautiful it started in the water where it has a teal ring, and it goes up as moss and leaves grow on it, it had to be at least fifty felt in the air. "Y/N don't." Neteyam spoke, to late.

You rode Amhel up to the rock and looked down you were sure to die if you jumped and no one caught you. "Perfect." You thought.

Meanwhile on the shore your older brother and sister sit down and put their face in there palms. "Told you, something stupid." Neteyam muttered to the group. Ao'nung had his transparent eyebrows furrowed as he looks between you and your brother. "What is she going to do?" He asked as you got of of Amhel. "Just watch it's so cool." Lo'ak said.

You disconnected you queue as you let the side of your head. "Remember catch me." You whisper to her and she only gives you a small chirp in response as she takes flight. She circles around the rock getting ready to catch her rider. You take one more look down stepping back a few steps you take a deep breath. Closing your eyes you run and jump. Falling through the air you could hear Tsireya yelling, "She's gonna die, she's not gonna catch her!!" This time your siblings got up and started yelling Neteyam jumped to his ilu ready to rush toward you and then everyone stopped as the heard you. "Why are you guys so serious." From behind them.

"Holy shit that was cool." Lo'ak laughed you got off of Amhel and walked to them sitting down in the sand letting the warm sun hit your skin. "I thought you were going to die." Tsireya said sitting down next to you. "Not today." You say smiling as you close your eyes.

"You did What!" You father yelled, you have Lo'ak a side eye, why did he have to be such a blabber mouth. "It wasn't anything serious me and Amhel used to do it all the time back home." You say putting your hand on your hip. "Okay we'll talk about that later but you jumped off a cliff that was over fifty feet in the air, what the fuck is wrong with you." Clenching your teeth, "Nothing is wrong with, I'm sorry I'm not an uptight asshole and like to have fun." You say suddenly feeling defensive as to why he asked what was wrong with you. "Don't curse at me and that's not fun you could have killed yourself." He yelled and you only rolled your eyes. "No more riding Amhel." He said and your face dropped. "What t-thats not fair." You protest before your father clicks his tongue. "Fine." Was all you said before storming up to your room of the pod.

It had been a little past eclipse and your shoulders felt heavy and that question ran through your mind over and over again, "What the fuck is wrong with you." Your father's words never stuck but this did. Your hands shaked you jumped out from under the hand-made blanket your mother gave you. You tiptoe over to your bag and rummage through it and you found it. You bit your lip as you looked at the blade. You sit on your cot and grabbed the blanket you were previously covering up with, putting it between your teeth you bit down, now you look at the blade and you press it onto your upper arm, pressing down hard you guide the blade down you sighed and bite the blanket because of the pain, but the more pressure you put into the cuts the more mental relief you felt. You dropped the blade and looked at your hand you held it so hard it cut through your fingers.

You let the blanket slip through your teeth and your breath was heavy and then you look up and your eyes were met with ones of your mother. You gasp. Flipping the blanket over your arm and hide the blade. Neytiri walks closer bottom lips shaking, "Show me." She demands and you only look away wiping the tears away from you face. "Show me." She says this time a little harsher. "Fine mom, you wanna see!" You say loudly getting up and the balde falls to the ground, you show her what you had just did, then you ripped the bandages you had on your thighs and then your hands. "Is this what you wanted to see." You say crying. Neytiri tilts her head as she falls to the ground. "My baby, my daughter my special girl." She cried out holding the blade throwing it across the room. "Mom don't cry." You say holding yourself looking from your mother's broken figure.

Neytiri was gasping through her tears, "Was it me was it Jake, did we do something, did we do something wrong I know we haven't been the best parents but I tried to protect you I-"

"No it's not you or dad it's me I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up but it's not you mom it's not you." You say falling to the ground next to her. She looks at you and holds your arms, going over every scar she helped heal and guilt fills her. You cry watching her reaction and then she brings you close, "It's okay my special baby, my sweet girl." She coos rocking you back and forth as your tears soak her chest. "I'm sorry mama I'm sorry."

"nothing to be sorry for my sweet." She said guiding you back to the bed holding you she pressed sweet loving kisses to your wrist. "Nothing wrong my sweet girl." She whispered holding you as she did when you were a child and your cries softened and your eyes began to get heavy for the first time you felt loved, you felt safe.

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themissinghand · 10 months ago

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Hi you...I hope you have a wonderful day.If you don't mind my request..I want to ask Kim Dokja x sweetheart!reader..The reader is his lover since school (The reader who expressed her feelings for Kim Dokja first.).Before the destruction happened, the reader behaved like a wife to Kim Dokja because the reader knew Kim Dokja's past so the reader gave everything for Kim Dokja to know that he was always loved. (This man needs comfort..).. After the destruction happened, they separated from each other..(Kim Dokja is on the train while the Reader is everywhere.)..Kim Dokja is always worried about the condition of his lover..When they meet again, their meeting is full of romance and fluff after being separated for a long time ..(I bet Kim Dokja's group was the most surprised and the uproar because the Reader and Kim Dokja are very polar opposite.)..The constellation supporting the Reader is also extraordinary..Because the privacy attribute of the reader is also extraordinary..

Thanks for reading..I hope I didn't bother you..I love your work😍..Give you a lot of love💕💕💕..(Btw ,did you read The S-Classes That I Raised or not ??..I love Han Yoojin)..Take care of yourself..Bye dear author 🥰..

Omniscient Reader Viewpoint: Fool

Summary: In which Kim Dokja is a fool for you.

Or snippets between Kim Dokja and his wife in an apocalyptic world.

Pairing: Kim Dokja x F! Wife! Reader

Note: Thanks for your patience! I’m also currently reading The S-Classes That I Raised Manhwa, but not the novel! The holy trinity with Han Yoojin, Kim Dokja, and Cale Henituse are literally my favourite trio.

Warnings: Minor novel spoilers! Lots of kisses, fluffy, but also light angst, and implied sexual themes.

★・・・・・・★

Oh Baby, I Missed You

Where are you?

Kim Dokja watched what remained of Seoul while standing beside the protagonist of his novel.

Even after all those scenarios, how come he could not see you even once?

[The Constellation ��Secretive Plotter’ is curious about what Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ is looking for]

As if on cue, Kim Dokja felt someone’s eyes on him. Spinning around with his hand on his sword, he matched the weariness of the sunfish beside him.

“Baby!” Hearing a familiar voice, Dokja freezes in disbelief until he hears two blades clashing with one another.

“Who are you?” Yoo Joonghyk growled at you, who defended well and jumped back. But instead of a blade, you had a long bo staff.

“Me? I’m Dokja’s wife.”

“WHAT?!” The door to the rooftop swung open with multiple heads popping through in shock.

“Is that true Dokja-ssi?” Yoo Sangrah asked, and when all of the attention was on him, Kim Dokja sheepishly nodded.

“WHAT???? So you and Master-” Jung Heewon immediately covered Lee Jihye's mouth and grinned.

“Nice to meet you er…”

“(L/N) (F/N). Been Dokja’s lover since a decade ago.” You smiled sweetly, before walking towards Dokja with open arms.

“I missed you baby.”

This time, Kim Dokja walked forward and hugged you tightly, and he felt embarrassed when everyone was watching him.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ is wiping her tears]

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ did not know Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ was already taken]

[Many Constellations wishes for your happiness]

“Baby, can I kiss you?” Kim Dokja flushed at your innocent question, but looking over your shoulder, he saw the wiggling eyebrows and grinning expressions from his teammates. Despite knowing his team would tease him forever, he knew he couldn’t reject your request.

“I miss you too.”

Without another moment, you cup his cheeks and pull him in for not one, not two, but three quick kisses.

[The Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ jaw dropped]

There were surprised gasps and squeals, and a few hushes from Lee Heewon.

“No wonder he always looks like he’s looking for something…”

“This is not for children to see.”

“But hyung is-”

[The Constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ gags]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotters’ did not expect a romantic plot]

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ donates 1000 coins]

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ is squealing at the reunion kiss]

“You have a lot of constellations following you baby. As expected of you.” Kim Dokja, still a little breathless and dazed from the consecutive kisses, buries his face into your shoulder in embarrassment while you play with his hair.

He missed this.

He missed you.

“I didn’t know my constellation was following you too.” Kim Dokja perked up at your words in interest.

“Which one?”

[The Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ slowly looks away in disbelief]

“No way.” Maybe her long bo staff should have been an indicator.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ looks at the Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ suspiciously]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ looks at the Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ suspiciously]

[The Constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ looks at the Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ suspiciously]

You smiled innocently as if it wasn’t a big deal, and was just happy to see him.

[The Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ pats himself on the back and is proud he has good eyes]

So Don’t Go, Stay With Me

“Do you have to go?”

“Yea. I have to go find my family. I’ll be safe, and I know you’ll be safe since you have such reliable people around you.”

You cup his cheeks as you two stare into each other’s eyes lovingly.

“Message me if you need me, and I’ll come with my nimbus cloud at any time.”

Knowing that your constellation was the Monkey King, Kim Dokja knew you were capable and perhaps on the same level as the protagonist.

But…

“We can find them together.”

“Dokja, don’t you already made plans with the sunfish?” He balled his hands into fists.

“I want you to see the end of that novel you love so much. And I’ll come join you when I’m done. I promise.”

You tippy toe and then press a kiss to his forehead.

“Baby, trust me.”

Kim Dokja then kisses your cheeks, before you decide to skip the formalities to kiss him on the lips. It was all it took for Kim Dokja to let go, and interlace your hands.

Soft and sweet, Kim Dokja felt loved with how gentle you are with him. He doesn’t want you to go.

And he will miss you when you are gone.

Kiss Me Slowly, Show Me You Love Me

Kim Dokja knew you were the one when you jumped after him.

"Kim Dokja!"

When he saw you reach out for him as he fell from that rooftop in middle school.

When you proposed to him on one knee, and kissed his hands as you whisk him away from his miserable reality.

He knew you were the one, when you cried for him, and saved his life, again and again.

“Don’t touch him. Even if you are his mother and my mother-in-law, you have no right to kill him to prove a point.”

“Move.”

“Over my dead body.”

Kim Dokja could barely see you standing before his sleeping body, beside Han Sooyoung, protecting him from his mother.

[The Fourth Wall is shaking]

“You don’t know anything.”

“That’s fine with me. I trust Dokja more than you.” In the next moment, he felt a cloud form underneath him, followed by curses and gunshots being fired.

“It’s you! You’re the one who he loves the most! And you’re going to kill him!”

Feeling your calloused hands on top of his head, he saw many versions of you pop out.

Was it the duplication skill that the Monkey King had?

“I’ll break the prophecy because I will never hurt my baby.”

Kim Dokja smiled faintly, before he lost consciousness again.

Because Only You Can Kill Me

“Baby, you can’t do this.”

The world is silent for once. The channel was off and both of you paid the price for such privacy.

“It’s the only way.”

“Kim Dokja.” He flinches when you call his full name, you never do.

“I have to. It’s the only way that the story will move on.”

“There has to be another way.” You purse your lips and rub your temples.

“There has to be a way.”

Kim Dokja held your hand solemnly.

“There is no other way-”

“Shut up!” You shook off his hand in anger.

He knows you know that this was the easiest way.

“I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself!”

That’s why you’re angry.

He hugs you from behind.

“You’re an idiot for even thinking that, there has to be another way!” You break out of his hold and stare at him straight in the eye.

“If only I had more power-” Kim Dokja grabbed your hand and placed it on his heart.

“(Y/N), I only trust you. You know that right?” Kim Dokja smiles.

“You’re the only one who can kill me. No one else can.” He felt your hand tremble as you took a shaky breath.

“So please…kill me.”

So the story can go on.

“Don’t look at me like that baby.” You say after short deliberation.

Finally, with a subtle nod, you conceded with tears rolling down your cheeks.

Then, without further ado, Kim Dokja pulls you in desperately, and both of you were surprised when he was the first to initiate the kiss.

But when the two of you are so intimate and so close to one another, knowing that the future is uncertain, neither of you want to let go.

Please, Make Me Your Everything

Kim Dokja feels so desperate in this apocalyptic world.

He’s planning and looking so far ahead using his knowledge of the novel, and sometimes, he feels like an outlier.

Perhaps he is.

Just like he always has.

But when he’s in your arms as you plant kisses from his collarbone and trails to his neck, he feels at the center of the world, your world.

Slowly, he feels you kiss his jawline before going closer and closer to his lips, and feels impatient with how slow you are. Every single kiss tingles on his skin, making him remember every precious moment he had with you.

He will never admit it, but he’s frightened for the future. Not about his death (because he will come back, he has a backup for that), but during his absence.

You are strong and responsible enough to lead the team, but he was afraid that you were going to take on the burden alone.

When he finally feels your lips on his, he pulls you closer, treasuring every second of you just like how you make him feel alive everyday.

“Baby. What’s wrong?” Your fingers gently wipe his tear away as you hold him, and when he feels your tears drop on him, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

“Shh, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I trust you.” Kissing him on his nose gave him butterflies, but even so, he couldn’t get rid of this bitterness in his heart.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much.” Dokja repeated the same words until his voice croaked and his lips became dry.

All the while you ruffled his hair and massaged his scalp, and responded to each of his confessions with affirmation.

“We’re gonna be okay, and you’re gonna be okay. I’ll wait for you Baby.”

That night, Kim Dokja cried himself to sleep in your arms, and for the first time in a long time, he felt warm, secure, and well-rested.

So when he feels his own sword pierce through his heart painlessly by the one who he swore his eternity to, he feels just as safe and happy.

You catches him as he falls, as you cry silently and reminds him to come back soon.

“Don’t forget me, please.”

How could he? When you’re the one who chose to move forward with the story, when you’re the one who will face his team after their reckless plan?

He was already greedy and selfish, wanting you to never forget him and wait for him, however long that may be.

Kim Dokja is a fool.

An idiot that only makes you cry.

With a strained smile, he nods before noticing the notification above.

[Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ will be killed by the person he loves the most]

When he wakes up, he promises that he will never sacrifice himself again.

But the story must go on.

#manhwa #orv kim dokja #orv yjh #orv x reader #uriel orv #orv spoilers #orv #orv kdj #kimcom #secretive plotter #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient readers viewpoint #omniscient reader novel #kim dokja company #kim dokja x reader #kim dokja #light angst #orv fanfic

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aventurineswife · 16 days ago

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Reader that's a demon that represents the sin of gluttony, reader can be very rude sometimes and is constantly seen snacking on stuff, reader became a demon after being sacrificed to the devil and ever since, they've called themselves one of the devils valiant soldiers, the characters accidentally end up falling in love with reader after witnessing reader cause mass destruction cuz they were pissed and the characters think reader is some sort of overlord but reader turns out to be super chill about being a demon and only act evil when they wanna make people scared of them or when they wanna prove a point(the annihilation gang and the legion is chasing reader and trying to get reader to join them, reader doesn't want to join the destruction.)

I was thinking Boothill, Aventurine, Blade, Kafka, Acheron, and Jing Yuan, you pick which character u wanna do!

Between Crumbs and Cataclysms

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Kafka x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Demon!Reader, Dark Humor, Unlikely Allies, Chaos, Casual Destruction, Snarky, Found Respect, Morally Grey.

Warnings: Mild language, implied violence, destruction, morally ambiguous themes.

Aventurine stood at the edge of the casino’s grand balcony, the lights of the city sprawling beneath him like a sea of fireflies. The world always seemed like a gamble to him, a constant series of risks and rewards. But tonight, something felt… different.

His eyes narrowed as he observed the chaos unfolding below. The sounds of screams, explosions, and destruction rippled through the air, and in the middle of it all, a figure stood, casually munching on a bag of snacks—each bite taken with the same lackadaisical ease as if the entire galaxy's fate wasn't hanging in the balance.

Aventurine tilted his head, intrigued. He'd heard the rumors—whispers of a demon who devoured everything in sight, a being representing the sin of gluttony, one whose wrath could raze cities and whose casual disregard for destruction had become the stuff of legends. He’d even heard people call you an overlord.

But the image he’d built in his mind was not what he saw before him. You weren’t the terrifying monster that stories made you out to be. You were just… eating chips.

“What a spectacle,” Aventurine muttered under his breath, his usual flair for dramatic commentary giving way to something closer to genuine curiosity. He adjusted his blazer, ensuring his gold-lined roulette imagery caught the moonlight just right. His instincts told him you weren’t simply here for the chaos; there was something deeper to your presence.

He stepped forward with purpose, his polished black shoes clicking against the stone floor. As he approached, your gaze lifted, your eyes barely flicking over to him before you went back to chewing.

“Don't mind me,” you said casually, your voice rich with an uninterested tone. "I'm just having a snack."

Aventurine smirked, unable to hide the gleam of fascination in his eyes. He had seen many things in his life—risks, gambles, grand gestures—but nothing quite like you. You didn’t seem interested in his persona, his theatrics, or even his title as one of the Ten Stonehearts. To you, he was just another person in the chaos of the universe.

“Quite the appetite you have,” he remarked, still studying you as you reached into your snack bag for another handful. “Tell me, is this your idea of a… victory feast?”

You shrugged, not even bothering to look up from your snacks. "Victory? Nah. Just satisfying a craving, y'know? Got a lot of pent-up frustration and hunger. So, I'm making sure I don't go overboard this time."

Aventurine couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. “Pent-up frustration… So, what’s the gamble here? The city? Your snack supply?”

You smirked, a little amusement flickering in your eyes. "Nah. The gamble is whether or not people can learn not to cross me. It’s more fun when they think I’m some overlord trying to destroy everything. It gets the right kind of attention. Besides,” you added with a devil-may-care grin, “it lets me prove a point.”

He watched as you carelessly tossed a half-eaten bag of chips into the air, watching it explode in a cloud of crumbs as it collided with the side of a building. He chuckled softly. You didn’t act like an overlord, you probably were an overlord.

“You know, if you ever considered not throwing tantrums, you could be a dangerous ally,” Aventurine mused, his voice laced with interest. “But, of course, you enjoy keeping them guessing.”

“You bet,” you responded, leaning back casually. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, don’t I?”

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed. There was more to you than met the eye, but there was something oddly compelling about the way you operated. Something that matched the duality of his own existence. Perhaps it was your unpredictability, or perhaps the fact that you didn’t try to pretend to be anything you weren’t.

His lips curled into a sly smile. “I think I could have some fun with you.”

Aventurine extended his gloved hand toward you, his gaze steady, waiting for you to either accept or dismiss his offer. As you looked at him, unamused, the tension between the two of you simmered.

Finally, you grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake. “We’ll see. But only if you don’t expect me to be some kind of ally. I’ve got my own agenda.”

“Understood,” Aventurine replied smoothly. “I don't need another team member, just a… worthy adversary.”

Kafka observed you from the shadows, her sharp eyes studying the scene. Her right hand rested on her chin as she evaluated the chaos you'd unleashed, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Your destruction was swift and savage, like a storm in human form. Yet, your demeanor was as relaxed as someone enjoying a leisurely afternoon snack.

She watched you devour yet another sandwich with unsettling indifference, the residue of the city you’d obliterated already coating your lips. You were everything she had heard about and yet… completely opposite. The infamous demon of gluttony, they said. Yet here you were, casually making yourself at home in the wreckage you’d created.

Kafka’s finger twitched, and her mind spun with possibilities. It wasn’t often she encountered beings like you—those whose true power lay in their ability to confuse and manipulate perception. The rumors had portrayed you as an overlord, a figure of unimaginable wrath, but the reality was something else entirely.

She approached you slowly, her heels clicking softly against the debris.

“So, the great Glutton, in the flesh,” Kafka's voice was cool, her words carefully measured, as though testing the waters. “I must admit, I was expecting… more of a spectacle.”

You paused mid-bite, looking at her with a half-lidded gaze. “Spectacle?” you repeated, as if the word was foreign to you. “What, you think I’m supposed to scream and act all evil to prove a point? Nah, I just blow things up when people piss me off. Sometimes, I just want some peace, but I’m okay with chaos too.”

Kafka tilted her head, studying you further. Your casual air was nothing like the terrifying demon she'd imagined. You were too relaxed, too… human.

“You’re a demon, yes?” Kafka continued, circling you like a predator testing its prey. “But you don’t act like one.”

“Eh, it’s all about the show, isn’t it?” you shrugged nonchalantly, wiping your hands off on your shirt. “People are too quick to label. Besides, who wants to be all angry and ‘evil’ all the time? It’s way more fun letting people think you’re terrifying.”

Kafka chuckled softly, her eyes narrowing. There was something dangerously intriguing about you. Your ability to play with perception, to twist expectations to your advantage—she couldn’t help but admire it.

“But aren’t you a little tired of all the destruction? Of always being hunted by the Annihilation Gang, the Legion, the IPC? You could have power. True power.”

You glanced at her, a raised eyebrow showing the faintest flicker of curiosity. “Power’s overrated. What’s the fun in having all that when you can just snack on a sandwich and watch the world burn?”

Kafka’s lips curled into a smile. “You're more than just a destroyer, aren't you? You have an agenda—just as I do. Perhaps, we could join forces.”

You paused, considering the offer. "I told you. I’m not looking to join any group. I’m just here for the fun and the snacks. But sure, let’s see where this goes."

He had been tracking an unusual disturbance across the galaxy—an entity so powerful that even the IPC couldn't fully comprehend it. Boothill had heard rumors: A demon, said to embody the sin of gluttony, was wreaking havoc wherever they went. Some called them a harbinger of doom, others spoke of their insatiable hunger for power, but Boothill wasn't buying the hype. He'd seen his fair share of destructive forces.

He reached the site of the latest chaos—a once-bustling marketplace now reduced to rubble. The smell of charred food and debris filled the air. Boothill began to scan the wreckage. His eyes narrowed as he observed the scene. And then, there it was—a figure sitting casually on a pile of smoking ruins, munching on an oversized sandwich as if it were any other afternoon snack.

The figure was... relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be an unstoppable force of destruction.

"Well, well," Boothill muttered to himself, aiming his eye at the figure, which had yet to notice him. "A demon, huh? I’ve seen worse."

As Boothill approached, you lazily glanced up, crumbs falling from your mouth as you chewed. "Oh, hey," you said with a smirk, not even remotely phased by the carnage around you. "You look like a guy who might need a snack. Want one?"

Boothill blinked in confusion. This demon, the one who had been tearing through entire cities, was offering him food? The audacity of it. "I’m not here for a picnic," he growled. "I came to see what kind of monster you really are."

You shrugged, taking another bite of your sandwich. "Oh, you know, the usual. I make a mess, people get scared, and then they try to make me join some stupid legion or annihilation gang. Bunch of guys in robes trying to get me to sign on for world destruction, as if I’ve got time for that."

Boothill’s mechanical body hummed in surprise. "Wait, you're not here to destroy the galaxy? You just... do it for fun?"

You chuckled, tossing the sandwich aside. "I mean, yeah. It’s funny, isn’t it? People panic when I start causing chaos, and they always assume I’m some big overlord or something. But honestly, I just wanted to grab a few snacks and scare some people. Kinda like putting on a show. I’m not really into all this 'world-ending' business."

Boothill stood there, dumbfounded. His eyes scanned the scene once more—massive holes in the ground, torn-up roads, fire still smoldering in the distance. This was the work of someone who had no care for life, who thrived on destruction, who... just wanted to be left alone with a snack. It didn't make sense.

"That’s it? All this destruction, and you're just... chilling?" Boothill asked, still trying to wrap his mind around it.

"Yep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a demon," you replied with a lazy yawn. "But I like to keep it casual. If I wanted to join the annihilation gang, I would’ve done it by now. But I’m not looking to end the world, just eat and take a nap. I’ve got better things to do than join some group of crazies."

Boothill was taken aback. Here was a demon who, despite their immense power, had no real desire to take over the world. All they wanted was food, peace, and maybe a little chaos for the fun of it. It was such a bizarre mix of menace and indifference that Boothill couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

"I thought you'd be more... intense," Boothill admitted, taking a cautious step closer. "Aren’t demons supposed to be all evil and hell-bent on destruction?"

You stretched lazily, your eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Nah, that’s just a stereotype. I can be as evil as I want when it suits me. But really? I’d rather just get some rest. So, what about you? You’re not exactly the type to just wander around, are you?"

Boothill narrowed his eyes, still unsure whether to approach the situation as an ally or adversary. "I’m looking for revenge," he said simply. "The IPC destroyed my home, killed my family. I’m not here for petty politics, just destruction. Justice."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "That’s a big mission. I’m more of a 'do what I want, when I want' kind of demon. Sounds like we’re not on the same page, huh?"

"Not really," Boothill agreed. "But... I respect the independence."

For the first time since meeting you, Boothill allowed himself a small smirk. This encounter was strange, but there was something about your carefree attitude that made Boothill pause. Perhaps you weren’t all bad. Maybe you didn’t fit the mold of the typical villain. You were... human in a strange, twisted way.

"So," Boothill asked cautiously, "What happens now?"

You stretched out and popped another snack into your mouth, grinning as you relaxed further into the ruins. "Well, I guess we go our separate ways. You keep chasing down your revenge, and I’ll keep avoiding those idiots who want me to join their death cults. We can always bump into each other again if you feel like a snack or two."

Boothill’s eyes glinted with amusement. "You sure know how to make a mess of things, but you don’t seem so bad after all."

You gave him a lazy wave, then popped another snack into your mouth, smiling with satisfaction. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep things interesting. Take care, cowboy."

As Boothill turned to leave, he couldn’t help but feel an odd respect for you. You might not be what he expected, but in a way, you were just like him—fighting for your own cause, in your own way.

And maybe, just maybe, Boothill found a strange comfort in the chaos you created.

106 notes · View notes

thaleleah · 7 months ago

Text

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?”

#𝑇𝑎𝑙 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 ✎#billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader smut #billy the kid x reader #dark!billy the kid #tw: noncon #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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venerawrites · 1 month ago

Note

I saw the post where the anon asked for relationship hdcs for before/after the war this morning and I wanted to ask for something similar but make it sort of a spin-off where they broke off bc of his toxic behavior pre-war and then they meet again after it? I hope the anon don't mind me LOLOL i just loved the idea

author's note: I love the exes-to-lovers trope and I was about to go with that at first, but then I decided it's better if I kind of leave it with more of an open ending x For anyone wondering the post anon is talking about, the headcanons this imagine is based on. Hope you enjoy! <3

Loving him was never meant to be easy.

In fact, you often felt like it is shameful. He was cold and cruel, with heart poisoned by hatred. His desire for revenge has become a scary obsession, one which was pushing him closer and closer toward the edge of his sanity every single day.

People were scared of him, you knew that. "The Demon with the Red Eyes", they called him. His name had become a forbidden curse, one that should never be mentioned out loud or it may summon his presence from the shadows. Parents hugged their children close when he walked down the dirty village roads and merchants lowered their heads, hoping he would pass by without a glance. He had became a legend of fear, a nightmare in the shape of a man.

Once upon a time the village you lived in was a peaceful haven - tucked away in the mountains, it was one of the few places where there were no ninjas. Instead of warriors, the people here were craftsmen - they were born and taught to create, not destruct. Blacksmiths forged fine blades from rare metals, making some of the highest-quality weaponry anyone can own. Weavers produced fabrics, so beautiful, every village and clan leader across the lands wanted their garments made from them to show their status and wealth. Over the years, these talents had secured not only peaceful relationships with other villages and nations, but also provided protection to the locals from the turmoil of the outside world.

Rogue ninjas rarely passed by and even when they did, they were not interested in attacking or stealing. They knew that destructing one of the main providers of materials to all the nations would bring only trouble, one that is not worth the headache if you are already a wanted criminal.

But nothing good can last forever and for your village the end of the peaceful times came in the form of Sasuke Uchiha.

It was a late summer night when you found him heavily bleeding on the forest ground near your house. Thinking back, you should've paid more attention to the small crest on the back of his shirt, before you dragged him back to your house. Because barely an hour passed before you found yourself pressed against the wall, the cold metal of his sword barely scraping the delicate skin of your neck.

"Give me one reason I should spare your life", he said calmly, yet his crimson red eyes narrowed as he stared you down. It was then the realisation of who you actually brought home hit you.

"Because I spared yours...", you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your answer seemed to amuse him and he let out a loud snort, his head leaning to one side. Not only you didn't beg for your life, but you also seemed to find the confidence to provide cheeky answers.

The boy didn't say anything else and you closed your eyes when you felt his blade pressing slightly harder against your skin, making a small cut. Before it can actually harm you, however it retreated completely. You stood there panting, one of your hands immediately moving toward your neck, wiping the small drop of blood that was slowly running down to your collarbone.

When you opened your eyes again, he was gone.

Months passed, yet the memory of that brief interaction haunted you like a ghost. There was something about him, something you couldn't really place your finger on, that allured you like a moth to a flame. Growing up hearing the rumours of a powerful Leaf Shinobi, who abandoned his home and his friends to seek power so he can kill his brother, you have always imagined him as big, scary, monster-like human. Someone who can justify the horror stories the people told about him.

The boy that you brought to your house, however, was too... perfect. His eyes glowed like rubies, making your breath hitch in awe, rather than fear. His skin, despite being covered with small scars and cuts, looked too soft to be one of a warrior. He was beautiful, no denial about that, but the aura of his presence was what mesmerized you. It was unlike anyone you've ever met before. It was powerful, demanding your whole attention and making you feel almost unsignificant in comparison.

Two seasons passed before you found him laying on your couch after you came back home from work, his white shirt painted red from the flowing blood from his abdomen. He didn't even bother to look at you when he heard you gasp and drop the bag with groceries on the floor, instead acknowledging your presence only with a few simple words:

"I need stiches."

Your mouth opened, intending to argue that you are not a healer, but before any sound could come out, your eyes met his and something inside of you broke. His gaze, as black as night, looked like he was silently pleading with you - something he had no guts to do out loud. Before you could think twice about the potential consequences of saving him a second time, you rushed to grab your medical box and sat on the floor before him, starting to delicately work on his skin. He guided you through the process with low voice, his rough fingers wrapping around yours when he noticed them shaking before scolding you for not keeping steady.

"If I knew you were so incompetent with simple tasks that even a child could do, I wouldn't have wasted my time coming here."

One thing about Sasuke is that he was not the type of man to spare your feelings. In fact, with time you noticed the he was taking extra minute before saying something, almost as if he carefully weighting and choosing the words that would sting the most. He seemed to find a certain dose of pleasure in it, his lips barely twitching upwards when you fire back insults at him, telling him he knows where the door is.

Yet time and time again, he found his way back to you. Of course, it was never accompanied by an apology for the way he treated you. He was not the type to apologize or admit fault. Instead, his visits were always paired with a demand. "Heal me", he would command you, before throwing his sword and shirt to the side; or "Let me stay for a while, I need to rest", before entering through the door uninvited. Your home has become a place of solitude, one where he could forget the pain, the lust for blood and the constant headache of having to deal with his old teammates from Konoha, even if it was for few days.

You were not one to hold back against his sharp tongue, matching his words with equal fire. "Ungrateful prick", you would say loud enough for him to hear after he sought your help once again after he was wounded, "This is the last time I am taking care of your stupid ass. Next time I am letting you bleed out on the front porch! I don't care!"

But you did care and it was never 'the last time', no matter how many times you repeated it. And the cycle continued: sharp words would be followed by mutual frustrations and him disappearing for a few weeks, before he found himself entering through the front door once again. You try to convince yourself you hated him, yet you kept leaving your home unlocked, a silent invitation for him to keep reappearing into your life.

It would've been easier to cut him out forever, if it wasn't for the rare glimpses of softness he showed you. The moments when his guard dropped, even if it was just for a bit, revealing that behind his cold exterior, he was just one broken boy. The way he would subtly press his cheek against the palm of your hand when you clean the wounds of his face, silently seeking your warmth and comfort. They way his eyes would soften while he listens to you ramble on and on about the rainy weather which makes it impossible for you to go and work out in your garden. The way he fixed random stuff in your house, after your complained you couldn't really work well with a hammer or that one of the chairs was wobbling, yet the local handyman was too busy to come and take a look.

These moments, so rare, yet significant to you, made it impossible to break this toxic circle you both found yourselves into. Slowly, he became such a constant in your life that it was impossible to even imagine not having him around. He had his own shelf in the wardrobe, where a few of his shirts were folded neatly, though he never explicitly asked you for a place to keep his things. His cup always sat turned upside down near the sink and he often brought "souvenirs" - random, odd trinkets - from his travels across the villages, carefully placing them on the small wooden rack next to the fireplace.

And in a weird way, you didn't mind. Instead, you found yourself doing small acts of care for him, things he never asked or expected you to do. You planted a small corner of your garden with tomato seeds, just for him, so he can have fresh food whenever he visited. You packed cooked meals for him and his teammates, despite never meeting them. You washed his clothes and folded them, so they were ready to be used next time he came. You adapted to his small habits like waking up at five o'clock every single morning and having jasmine tea for breakfast, so it was always ready by time he finishes his morning training.

The balance you managed to strike between the words of resentment and the gestures of gentleness was as delicate as a thread about to snap. You knew it cannot last forever, not when you were witnessing him falling deeper and deeper into the darkness of his own hatred. The closer he was to finding and killing Itachi, the further he drifted from the Sasuke you knew. But you clung to the hope it is not too late for him, that once he had this final battle he was preparing for so long, he would be free of the rage that consumed him and would see that the peace he so badly wanted, could not be achieved by spilling blood.

But that same battle turned out to be the beginning of the end. For both of the little sanity he had left and of the whatever bond you had between you.

When he came to your house that night, you almost did not recognize him. Not because he was covered in dirt and dried blood, because at this point you were used to seeing him like this, but because you have never seen tears in his eyes before. His battered body collapsed in your arms and for the first time, he opened the gates to his past and told you all about his family. In the past he has mentioned bits and pieces, but never the full story. Between shuddering breaths, he recounted memories from his childhood - the playful afternoons with his mother, the training sessions with his father and brother and memories of that one night that turned his whole life upside down.

"Everything I believed, it all turned to be a lie... I..", the words fell like broken whimpers from his mouth, not forming full sentences, yet you knew better than to answer. You just held him in your arms, letting him pour all his pain, frustration and guilt, hoping that this would ease the weight of the burdens he'd carried for so long.

But what you thought was a light in the end of the tunnel turned out to be flashing red warning of what was to come. The idea of revenge persisted, this time against his former home and its leaders. His words became sharper, his presence colder and there seemed to be a new fire of hatred burning inside of him, one brighter than before. The rare glimpses of care and protectiveness that he has shown to you before, now spiraled into unhealthy paranoia of someone coming after you.

"What exactly are you doing?", you asked one day when you came home only to find him pulling your clothes out of the wardrobe and putting them into a leather bag.

Sasuke didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw tight as he continued packing with swift, urgent moves. His hair was sticking in different directions and he had dark bags under his eyes, indicator of the many nights he spend laying in bed wide awake.

"You are coming with me."

These five words caused a shiver to run down your spine. Without thinking, you lunged forward, gripping his wrist mid-air as he was reaching to pull more of your belongings. His head turned sharply toward you, his eyes narrowing as a warning for you to back off.

"Sasuke, just stop!", you snap, retreating your hand but still standing your ground, "Tell me what is going on!"

The young Uchiha stared at you for a minute, his gaze boring into yours, before he let out a loud scoff and turned his attention back to packing. He was just about to reach for a pile of your shirts, when you slapped his wrist away, annoyed at how he seemed to ignore not only your words, but your whole presence.

"Sasuke, I said stop! I am not going anywhere!"

Your words hung in the air, firm and final. He turned toward you, making a small step in your direction so you were chest to chest. You could feel the heat radiating from him and for a moment the whole room felt too small, almost as if shrunk with the intensity of his inner fury.

"I am not asking you", he hissed through gritted teeth. Before you can reply, his fingers found their way to your jaw, gripping at as he held your gaze with his, "You are coming with me, whether you like it or not. It's not safe for you here."

The pressure of his grip made you wince, while your hands pressed against his chest, trying to push him away. But he was always bigger and stronger than you, and while you have spent countless nights admiring his physique, now you cursed his strength and size.

The darkness of his eyes transformed into glowing red, his silent way of showing that he meant what he was saying.

He was not about to leave you here, not when you belonged to him.

"Sasuke!", you cried out, pressing against his chest with more force, but he remained unmoving, "Stop! You're hurting me."

Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, his grip on your jaw tightening. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and you gulped at the feeling, your whole body tensing one he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Don't you understand?", he asked, frustrated at the way you pushed him away. His voice was laced with a mix of desperation and annoyance, the volume of it rising with each word he spoke.

"I'm doing this for you, for US", he stressed on the last word, his head moving just an inch away so he can look into your eyes again, "They will come for you! They will use you as leverage against me and I can't-"

"Freaking hell, who is they? What are you talking about?"

The questions seemed to annoy him and instead of loosing his hold on you, he fingers dug tighter, almost as if he was scared you may slip between them.

"Who is they?", he growled, shaking his head, "It's freaking everyone! All the villages, their leaders, every damn rogue ninja out there who is after the bounty on my head... they will all come after you! I can't let that happen! I WON'T let that happen."

With both hands gripping the front of his shirt, you finally relaxed in his grip and allowed yourself to actually look at him.

And then your heart clenched in fear. It wasn't because you were scared of his dark predictions or the possibility of any of his enemies getting to you. No. What you were scared of was that after seeing the way his body shook and heard how his voice trembled, you had to accept the one truth you tried to run from for a very long time.

That the the man you fell in love with was no longer there . The Demon with the Red Eyes was all that remained.

With one final, stronger push you managed to free yourself from his hold and you didn't waste even a second in putting some distance between you. Your hand moved to your face, rubbing the sore skin while you held your eyes glued to the floor.

Even the sight of him was too much to bear at this moment.

"Stop resisting and just listen to me-", he tried to reason with you, but his attempt did nothing more than make you sick in the stomach.

"Stop, just stop!"

"I am trying to protect you-"

"You can't protect me from yourself!"

The words felt like a slap to the face and he stumbled a step back, his face twisting into a hurt expression. It was a look you've seen only once, almost two months ago when he cried in your arms after killing Itachi, one that you thought you may never see again. It pained you too, seeing him so fragile and knowing you were the reason for his disappointment and distress.

But just as quickly it showed, it was gone and replaced with his usual mask of coldness.

"You think you need protection.. from me?", his tone was even, laced with irritation as he studied you from the opposite corner of the room. His fists clenched, the urge to just grab you and drag you with him getting stronger and stronger. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer to the question, not when he already knew the answer was a positive one.

"I thought...", you managed to say before closing your mouth again and moving your head to the side. The heaviness of his gaze felt like a unbearable weight on your shoulders, one which could crush you any second now.

"You thought what?", he pressed, his head tilting to the side, "What did you think, huh? That I would stay in this silly cottage in the middle of nowhere and garden vegetables all day long? That I would just forgive and forget the people who put not only me, but also my brother through hell? The people who took everything from me?"

You watched him walk closer, shortening the safe distance you've put between you just a few moments ago. Was this what you thought? Was this what you wanted? To be honest you didn't know... The fragile illusion of your domestic cozy life, accompanied by you falling in love with the idea of someone who you thought you knew, had shattered so quickly, that you didn't know what you thought. Or wanted.

Perhaps it was your fault. You invited a monster into your life and now the consequences of your actions finally caught to you. Was there really anyone to blame but yourself?

After a minute, you managed to gather your thoughts and you looked up at him, forcing your gaze to meet his despite the overwhelming desire to just turn around and run as far as possible from him.

"I thought that there may still be hope for you", you said, your head weakly shaking from side to side, "But I was wrong. You are too far gone... and I can't let you drag me with you."

Sasuke remained silent, his red eyes studying your face, searching for any signs of insecurity, any crack in your resolve. And when he found nothing, he couldn't help but clench his fists by his side. For a moment you thought he may lash out at you, but instead, he simply turned his back to you, walking toward the door with heavy steps.

"You've always been like this", he said flatly, stopping once his hand reached the doorknob, "Naive, stupid little thing... thinking the world is just flowers and goodness. Living in your little pink bubble and having no idea of how the real world works."

His voice sounded like a snake's hiss, low, yet venomous, each word dripping with disdain. He stood there for a few more seconds and you saw the muscles of his back tensing under his shirt. But when you thought he will turn around and say something else, you were met with nothing but his retreating figure, followed by the loud slam of the door.

He was gone. And this time, the cycle was broken.

7 years later, after the war...

Fate is a funny thing.

Growing up, you thought you would never leave your home village, let alone wander across unknown lands and dipping your toes into unknown cultures. After all, with so much cruelty and bloodshed happening, why would you leave your safe home?

Unlike many others, your village flourished during the war - the fine weapons the locals produced were in a high demand and the orders for them came one after the other. Business boomed, and what had once been a quiet place untouched by the chaos of the outside world, suddenly became a hub of activity. And while the people tried to continue their lives as normal, it was a fact that the village was now a central player on the global chessboard.

The decision to leave such a place during a time of conflict was not an easy one - this was your home, the only security you had. But seeing the people you loved and cherished create weapons, used to further fuel the war happening beyond the village walls, has shifted something inside of you and the way you looked at the world. Maybe all this time, Sasuke was right, and you did indeed lived in your own pink bubble.

The times were unforgiving, the people as well. The Uchiha frequent visits did not go unnoticed by the locals, especially toward the end of your "relationship" when they were happening every few days. As expected, none of them was willing to show any sympathy toward him or you, for that matter. The reputation that preceded Sasuke has always been tainted by his past and soon that reputation threw its shadow onto you as well.

Within a few months after he left forever, you were no longer viewed with the same regard as you once had been. Whispers followed you in the streets, and eyes watched you with suspicion, but always behind your back. The once warm greetings were replaced with cold indifference, and the stall where you continued to sell your vegetables for a while turned from one of the most crowded places on the Sunday market into an abandoned wooden table covered with your fresh produce that nobody wanted.

It hurt. You were once a part of this community and some of the people felt like family. Like the baker Pow, who always made sure to add olive oil and some lemon juice to at least one of his breads, because he knew this was how you liked them. Or the shoemaker Nara, who always made the same model of shoes for your birthday since you were ten and at this point it was some sort of a joke between you two.

But now these people had cut you off, leaving you alone with nothing but memories of what it feels to belong to something. The people you had grown up with, shared meals with, confided in, had now become strangers.

Sasuke Uchiha shattered not only your heart, but your whole life.

And were left with no choice but to leave.

Ironically, that turned out one of the best things that ever happened to you. You met many people during your travels and picked up many different skills. Your knowledge about plants has landed you the opportunity to work under the supervision of well-known botanists, exposing you the real wonders of the world. Under their mentorship you grew as rapidly as a flower - you hungrily soaked knowledge and cultivated it, eager to one day have your name known alongside those experts who you looked up to.

New friendships were formed and new loves were experienced along the way. Life still had ups and downs, but you were more confident now, more resilient, and better equipped to handle whatever came your way. The future was full of surprises, ones that you often embraced with open arms. Every day was different and you were always eager to see what the next one would bring.

What you didn't expect, however, was for fate to meet you with the last Uchiha once again.

It happened when you least anticipated it, in the most ordinary of places. You traveled to a remote village to assist one of your mentors in delivering a lecture about herbs that can be used in medicine at the local academy. This was your life now: sharing your knowledge, working alongside brilliant minds and helping inspire young students to follow the same steps. And while you usually didn't pay attention to the faces in the crowd, too focused on delivering your presentation, the onyx eyes you used to love so much were impossible to miss.

Sasuke stood in the same corner throughout the whole session, not daring to approach you till the end, when it was only you and him left in the room.

"You are hard to find", he stated, the faintest ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He looked different - older, for sure, but also with calmer and more mature aura. He was dressed in all dark and his hair was longer, covering one of his eyes.

"But you still did", you stated blankly, turning your attention back to putting the jars of dried herbs in your bag.

"I've had to do my research."

The words hung between you, as he lingered behind you, silently watching you putting away your stuff. Just like him, you have changed. There was no trace of the fiery, yet insecure young farmer that had saved his life so many times years ago. Instead, now you stood proud and confident before him, a testament to all you’d endured and achieved since those days.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally turned around to face him.

"What are you doing here?"

His gaze held yours, his eyes softening just the tiniest bit as he followed the lines of your face. Gazing at the person he had dreamed about for so many years felt almost too good to be true ... and for a moment he needed to just take it in, make sure you were really there before him.

The man lifted his left arm to reach for his bag and this was the moment you noticed it was the only one he had. You tried not to stare, but your throat involuntarily stiffened at the sight. Sasuke Uchiha, the strongest man you've ever met, the inspiration that has inspired so many legends across the land, had suffered a loss just like many other during the war. Another reminded that he was just a human, like the rest of the world.

He must have noticed your staring, because the moment he pulled one of the books you co-written with another botanist, he adjusted his cloak and hid the front of his body from view.

"I've read your book", he placed the book on the desk between you. His eyes moved a few times between the cover and your face, trying to find the right words to express the storm of feelings that was brewing inside his chest after seeing you for so long. Funny how on the way here he thought about all the things he wanted to say if he actually find you, yet now he was now unable to mutter even a word more.

"Thank you?", you raised a brow, unsure how to respond.

Sasuke has always been a man of action rather than one of words. In the past, you learned how to read the smallest twitches and movements of his body in order to guess what he is thinking. But as you watched him now, all nervous and unable to hold your gaze for more than few seconds, you felt like you were looking at a stranger.

"I am sorry", his suddenly said and you felt your breath hitch. You blinked a few times in surprise, unsure if you had heard correctly.

He lifted his eyes to look at you, before clearing his throat:

"I am sorry I treated you the way I did. I am sorry I was so blinded by my anger and hate to actually listen to you. I am sorry I left", with each word you felt your chest getting tighter and heavier with all the emotions you had thought you buried long ago.

"The thing I am most sorry about is that I couldn't protect you... from me."

The wound you thought has healed a long time ago was wide open again and you had to grab the edge of the desk to keep yourself from collapsing before him. Never have you even hoped to see him again, let alone hear him apologize. It felt almost like a dream, and you had to blink a few times, just to make sure his appearance was not just a sick joke your mind has decided to play on you after a long day.

After waiting a few minutes for a response which never came, Sasuke let out a soft sigh, before making a few steps toward you. His fingers twitched, the need to reach out and touch you almost overwhelming, yet he held back.

"I am proud of you. You came far.."

The man offered you a small smile, one which you could not really return because of the state of shock you were still in. It all felt surreal, like a tsunami of unresolved feelings, memories and unsaid things hitting you all at once.

"You don't have to say anything", he said after noticing the struggle you faced in trying to convey your conflicted feelings into words, "I don't expect you to forgive me or to forget what I did to you. But I just... needed to see you. At least one last time."

He was just about to turn around, when your free hand reached for his arm and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist.

"Wait!"

He paused, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, you felt silly and vulnerable, unsure of why exactly did you stop him or what you should say to him.

"Don't go. Not yet. Just..."

Sasuke's expression shifted slightly and his features softened slightly as he gazed down at you. You could tell this was not the response he expected. Maybe deep down he hoped you were the same fiery person as before and that you would just throw a jar of dirt at his head for putting you through so much. Or that you would scream at him and just kick him out. Maybe that way it would be easier to actually cut the fragile thread of memories that still connected you. But you were not ready to do that yet.

"Would you help me pack the things back?", you nodded your head toward the bag of jars and pile of documents that were still sitting on the desk. As usual, your mentor decided to leave earlier, leaving all of the clearing up part to you.

"Maybe we can go to the local teahouse after. To catch up... for the old times' sake."

Your fingers withdrew from his arm and you took a step back, putting some distance between you. His one visible eye followed your figure and slowly he nodded his head.

Deep down you both knew that this may not be the best thing to do. You were both different people now, yet the memories of your shared time was bound to haunt both of you no matter how hard you tried to pretend it didn't happen. While you both grew and changed, he was not fully healed yet. And neither was you. You still had much to grow, to learn, to see.

Fate was indeed a funny thing. It intervened your paths before and for better or the worse, it was doing it again. And you couldn't really know if you should allow it, but who were you to get in its way? Perhaps this time it would be different. Or perhaps you would just go back in time, ending in the same position you found yourself seven years ago.

But as he stood next to you, silently organizing and packing the last few documents left on the desk, you knew you had to just allow life flow and embrace any change or challenge it threw in your way. Even if its name was Sasuke Uchiha.

cc artwork: Shan Yanan

#sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #sasuke headcanons #sasuke x you #sasuke imagine #naruto fanfiction #naruto imagines

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ydotome · 2 years ago

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Thank you. You are such a wonderful child. - Kimetsu no Yaiba: Yuukaku-hen

#Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer #knyedit #dailykny #knysource #Tengen Uzui #Kagaya Ubuyashiki #Uzui Tengen #Ubuyashiki Kagaya #Blade of Demon Destruction #kny #my gifs #my post

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kurogxrix · 2 years ago

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Ummm….this is my first time doing this but Is there any chance I can please request a ao’nung x dreamwalker shyreader, he’s deeply in love with her despite they’re already together. Like the whole and every clan especially the children adore her. Bonus: The sullys are surprised theirs a dreamwalker at the meytikayna clan, pretty cute that Jake and Neytiri sees themselves in ao’nung and her 💙💙💙

No Cap

Ao’nung x Metkayina!Avatar!reader

The strangers' arrivals in Awa’atlu didn't take much to shake confusion and interest within the Metkayina clan. A crowd of aqua skinned na’vis circled the omaticaya family as they dismounted their Ikrans, Toruk Makto and his family themselves presenting themselves before the people.

Pushing their way through the crowd, Ao’nung and Rotxo arrived on scene. The duo was like salt and pepper, never one without the other. The fierce looks on their faces didn’t go unnoticed by the two Sully boys that greeted them, before it switched to a teasing one. God, it was bad already that everyone was staring at them like they were a bunch of forest freaks, and now the Olo’eyktan’s son was making fun of them too?

Everything went quiet in Lo’ak’s head when he caught a glimpse of a certain Metkayina girl emerging from the water. She was beautiful, unlike any girl that he had ever seen before in the forest. Neteyam observed his brother before turning his head towards Tsireya, noticing another girl following close after. Gracefully as ever, Tsireya and you exited the waters that you loved so much to check an eye out on the large crowd of na’vis. Though you couldn’t yet feel the obnoxious stares of the strangers on you and your best friend, Ao’nung surely had.

His nose bridge creased as the Sully boy’s eyes strayed on you for too long, but he refrained himself from baring his teeth just yet. Neteyam quickly looked away from you, not wanting to get on the boy’s bad side even more than he and his family already were. You yelped once you came close enough to Ao’nung, feeling him pull you by the arm and onto his side.

Though Rotxo’s and Ao’nung’s name calling season of the two Sully brothers came to end due to Tsireya’s scolding. Their parents soon followed shortly on their respective skimwings. You swatted a hand at Ao’nung when he made fun of the family for flinching when the Olo’eyktan flew his creature above their heads, landing in the waters beside you all. Your boyfriend only playfully bared his teeth at you, chomping down onto nothing as it made a loud resonating sound.

Your attention had been stolen away from Ao’nung by none other than his mother, the Tsahik Ronal. You winced internally as you knew that this poor family was about to pass through hell and back under the judgement of the Tsahik, because you had been there at first. You remember your arrival at Awa’atlu like no other, mostly due to the fact that Ronal had quite literally held you under the sharp blade of her spear.

It was scary, if not terrifying as the many eyes of the reef na’vi turnt towards you in hatred. Though the Metkayina had never faced the ruthless face of human destruction, stories from around the globe spread faster than ever. It took you long for you to stand where you now stood, but you were proud of yourself for getting through it.

You heard Tsireya sigh from besides you as she watched her mother forcefully grasp the hand of the eldest daughter, bringing it up to her face for a better look. Though the crowd of reed na’vi didn’t shake until she moved towards the son.

“These children are not even true na’vi, they have demon blood!” you felt your heart stop as Ronal lifted the youngest son’s hand up for the whole village to see, and their noises of displeasures made you cave into yourself. You looked down at the palms of your hands shamefully, your ears stuck to your skull.

Though it doesn’t even take a minute for Ao’nung to notice your pity-party. He moved his 4 fingered hand to hold onto your 5 fingered one, his thumb rubbing circles over your back hand. You couldn’t stand to look up at him and into those awaiting eyes, because you knew that he’d just read you more than he already had. Ao’nung knew the ways into your heart way too well, and sometimes you cursed him internally for being such a good people-reader.

It was maybe also because you were too shy to meet his flaming gaze, but that’s a story for another time. A mere look from the boy was enough to stir deep feelings inside of your stomach, and it was the last thing that you needed for now as you watched the poor family with pity. You could only pray that Ronal would spare them her sympathy.

You knew that the clan loved you, that they accepted you as one of their own. After all, whether they wanted it or not, your boyfriend was the chief’s son. You knew that somewhat, this feeling of insecurity was stupid, because the Metkayina didn’t treat you as an outcast or as a reject. On the contrary, they trusted you with their children, which was already one big step in acceptance.

The children loved you, begged for you to come play with them everytime that you were spared from training. Yet, as you watched the omaticaya children being shamed for something that you relate to, you couldn’t help the feeling of gnawing pain in your chest. What was so different between you and them? For all you knew, you were closer to those ‘demons’ than they actually were, because at the end of the day, you were still human.

You still needed to feed and bathe your human body as your avatar slept comfortably at night. You still needed an exopack when you were not in your na’vi body, and for all you knew, these children didn’t.

You were cut off from your self-deprecating thoughts at the booming sound of Tonowari’s voice. He told the village to treat the Sullies well, to welcome them into their home land asif it were their own. Your heart visibly relaxed at the sound of it, and you knew that the distressed family would have a roof above their heads tonight and a warm meal to feed their stomachs.

“My son Ao’nung, my daughter Tsireya will show your children what to do.” you felt your boyfriend’s hand being ripped away from yours as he moved before his father, trying to protest his way out of it. Though it was short lived as he was roughly scolded by Tonowari.

“Their dear friends, Rotxo and Y/N will assist them with making you feel at home.” Everyone turnt to look at the both of you, and you coward under their eyes. It didn’t help that their mother looked all intimidating and irritated. You watched anxiously as Neytiri’s eyes widened subtly, and you could obviously see that she was gazing above your eyes.

God how stupid were you to believe that they wouldn’t catch up to you in mere seconds. After all, her husband was an ex dreamwalker, and some of her children had inherited his odd traits. How could she not notice the weird hairs upon your brow bones, or the extra finger that you shared in common with her children. You soon curled into yourself as you realised that it was not only Neytiri that was staring rudely, but quite literally the whole strange family.

Although you could understand where it was coming from, because you were pretty sure that your program had not been informed to all sectors of the main lab. Words must’ve never gotten through Jake Sully’s ears, because they were visibly raised in shock. He must’ve only been aware of omaticaya avatars around, you must have been the first Metkayina dreamwalker to ever be programmed.

“Quit staring, more moving!” your boyfriend came to the rescue as his words shook the omaticaya family out of their staring trance. Ronal smiled proudly from the sidelines as she watched her son stand up to those Sullies, mostly because of her little hissing altercation with Neytiri earlier.

You appreciated the attention being short lived as the family thanked the whole of you, missing no time in following Tsireya to their new home. God you could’ve pounced on your boyfriend on the spot for saving you from their prying eyes, but that wouldn’t make a good image of you infront of his mother now would it.

“Cmon, let’s go help them settle. I’m sure that with arms this thin, they could use your help.” you tried to motivate him, holding softly onto his forearm as you turned him back to look at you. Your voice was low but you watched as his ears raised at your comment, clearly feeding at his ego as you compared him to the omaticaya boys. He smirked as he dragged you by the arm again, making you grin as you watched that smile rise on his face again.

His thick tail swooshed around the place, knocking your lower back as you both laughed it off. You bounced on the stretchy material of the bridge, hopping next to your boyfriend with a few woven bags upon your shoulders.

“You good?” you heard the deep voice of your boyfriend next to you, turning your head around to be met with the beautiful sight of the bonfire kissing his skin. The orange hue enveloped his skin in a beautiful mix of colours, and you felt yourself going shy under his stare.

Ao’nung looked down at your chest to see a child sleeping comfortably on you. More specifically, the youngest son of Ayka, a close friend of yours. He admired the way the boy fit perfectly into your arms, before swivelling his eyes back to you. Though this time you were not looking at him like you previously was, instead you were staring at the bonfire with that frown that he hated so much sprawled upon your face.

“Don’t take what my mother has said to heart, y’know she doesn’t mean it.” His hand found yours alongside the back of the sleeping child, his hand visibly bigger than yours. Though you find it hard to believe when she said it with so much resentment. Her tone was practically thick and full of it, and you didn’t know who to listen to anymore.

“She’s just trying to find ways to not make them stay, she’s just scared yawne,” you smile coyly at the nickname, trying to hide behind your free hand as Ao’nung was still holding the other down. The sound of his deep chuckle made your chest flutter. “She’s scared for her people, for her family, and you’re part of it.”

Ao’nung watched as you slowly crept your way out of the hand wall that you had built yourself, your round aqua eyes staring at him so innocently. “She loves you too, like a daughter of her own.”

“And soon I'll make you her actual daughter-in-law,” he teased and your ears raised comically at his comment. You gasped mockingly at his part-crude comment as he referred to the both of you mating, but you both knew that it was too early for that. Soon the time will come for you both to move up to the next step, but for now you’d enjoy your youth a little more. Plus as much as much as Ao’nung would love to see you as his little wife waking up everyday next to him, he also knew that it was not the time yet.

“No cap?” you asked, using one of the human slangs that you had learnt and shared with him. Though he hated anything related to the human species, he couldn’t help but love you in every shape and form. He knew that once you were out like a light, your avatar sleeping peacefully in his arms at night, you would have to wake up in your human body to take care of yourself.

Sometimes Ao’nung would even suck it up and visit you at your outpost. Though it wasn’t that hard for him to do, because there weren’t many humans at the Metkayina shack, just enough to help you to keep going.

“No cap.” he repeats, though he doesn’t sound interested in what he’s saying at all. You craned your neck to look up at him, his free hand raising to rest comfortably on your cheek as the other one kept laying on the child’s back. Ao’nung crept his face closer to yours as his eyes kept on switching between your eyes and mouth.

For once, you didn’t feel shy at all to make the first step. Inevitably it had shocked Ao’nung as you leaned all the way before he even could, pressing your lips against him in a soaring kiss. The warm hand on your cheek followed along.

Your ears fluttered back as you melted into the kiss, turning your face to the side to catch more of him. Ao’nung was like a drug, you just couldn’t get him off your mind nor could you get enough of him. He was like a constant thought running wild at the back of your head, being constantly sought out. You can't really tell what you would do of yourself if one day he decided to up and go, but you’d enjoy what you have for now.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the child that was resting upon your chest had already risen from his slumber. The high pitched ‘Ew’ made you jump a little from surprise, quickly moving away from each other as the boy wiggled his way out of your arms.

The previous thoughts that you had of Ao’nung possibly deciding to leave you one day completely vanished as he stared you down with that lovesick gaze. His eyes sparkled like no other when he looked at you, and you found yourself falling under a similar spell everytime that you would look at your boyfriend.

i didn’t really know how to make the reader any shyer i’m so sorry anon😭 hope you liked it either ways!

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