#this was harder than anticipated | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milliesfishes · 1 month ago

Note

I know you’ve said you like pregnancy angst as well as kidnapping angst, so perhaps there is a really angsty way to combine the two? Billy’s girl being taken and drugged and it’s a few months after they are trying to get pregnant but it’s just not happening and so he takes her to a doctor and the doctor says that the drug used when she was kidnapped likely made her unable to have children

anon you ate with this one <3 ౨ৎ꣑ৎyou and billy can't get pregnant౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

It was a ritual of the utmost importance, almost sacred in its action. Billy's hands on you, traveling the familiar intimate path you so treasured. His mouth claimed yours as the waves of ecstasy crashed over and over again.

His elbows buckled, body going limp atop yours, head nestled in the crook of your neck. Your hand fluttered up to his hair, fingers flexing through it. Billy's lips puckered at your neck, and when he lifted his head, his chin nestled into your collarbone, eyes sleepy. Your fingers combed through the curls stuck to his forehead, brushing them to the side.

"You okay?" he murmured, bending his neck forward to give your throat a tiny kiss.

"Mmhm," you hummed. He smoothed his hands up your sides and lifted himself up to sit next to you, back against the headboard. Gently, his big hands gathered you by the hips, pulling you to sit with one leg on either side of his bare thighs. You slumped into his chest as his fingers began to trail up and down your back.

"This might be it." His words made you smile the tiniest bit, a spark of hope lighting in the foggy haze of the aftermath. He palmed the back of your head, thumb stroking your hair.

You breathed in softly, still limp from your activities. Snuggling into his arms, you nodded and pressed your lips to the spot over his heart. "You think so?"

"Yeah." You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes. They were warm, the familiar blue that could light you from the inside out, the fire in your hearth. Billy cupped your cheek, thumbing your jaw. He bent his head and kissed your forehead, lingering there. "Tired?"

A single nod confirmed his question, and he tenderly pushed your head back to his shoulder. "Go on 'n rest, sweetheart. I've gotcha."

Settling into his arms and closing your eyes, you breathed in softly, a prayer in your heart that this would be it. Your next monthly would not arrive and you would know there was a baby growing within the safety of your belly.

The last few months had been fruitless attempts, long days waiting and pleading with higher powers, gallons of tears shed over the cause. You wanted it dearly, more than maybe you'd wanted anything. The two of you were nearly burnt out from the effort, but still your need burnt bright.

It was triggered by the events of nearly a year ago. Snatched right from your doorstep, you had been whisked away by a gang rival to Billy's and held somewhere cold and dark. There wasn't much to remember on your part- as if your time had been made up of only emotions and not images. When recalled, you saw faint glimpses of shadows forcing liquid down your throat, knew the burn of the course rope on your wrists.

The only truly clear memory you had was of waking up to Billy's hand on your cheek, his eyes fiery but doused by the dight of you. There had been blood on his face. The remnants of his rage were scattered across the area, bullets in their heads. It had hardly felt real.

Any aftermath was revelation. You were more aware than ever how fragile your life was, and even more conscious to Billy's. It had spurred him into action too, and before you knew it you were sitting in front of him atop his horse, both your backs turned to Lincoln County and all the pain it held at its core.

He held you tighter now. You knew it and he did too. For a while every touch had been urgent, and that had calmed somewhat, but not all the way. Billy had been reminded that you were something he could lose.

So here you were now, further east where he could live in sweet anonymity. Without the threat of a war breathing down your necks, you had begun to talk of the future. But this time you spoke as though it would actually happen.

You confessed the dream that had haunted you for a long while now. Holding a baby in your arms with his blue eyes and dark curls. It almost seemed to astonish him, that it was something you desired. Your heart broke for the things he'd past told himself, but everything was forgotten when he said he wanted that too.

Having married the instant you set foot in this new place, it was the easy next step. You loved him, you knew it as if it were an instinct born with you. And you wanted to suckle everything life could possibly give with him at your side.

Yet so far nothing had come of trying. And now as you closed your eyes, cheek pressed to his naked shoulder, you wondered if anything ever would.

Billy hadn't said it out loud. But the next time you greeted him in tears, your womanly blood afoot, he did. Muttered into your hair as he sheathed you in his arms for the hundredth time with this as the cause, "Honey I think somethin' might be wrong."

You lifted your tear-ridden eyes, a question you didn't need to ask revealing itself in them. He thumbed away a tear or two before saying, "Maybe we should talk to a doctor. See if there's somethin' we can do."

All other options exhausted, you sighed and buried your face in his neck. There were only so many problems his arms could solve.

The doctor was sent for the next day. You waited nervously while Billy was out, trying to busy yourself with household chores. Things he had previously tried to quell from your mind were still prodding at you. What did I do? Why is this happening to us?

Billy, ever patient, had listened to you worry all night, trying to reassure you. "Maybe it's somethin' with me," he suggested, squeezing your hand. "Either way 's not your fault, sweetheart."

You wanted to believe him. Wanted to think there was a tea or position or prayer you hadn't tried. However, something was nagging at your insides, a dark voice that you didn't know if you could believe. For awhile you'd been shoving it aside, pushing it into the closets and corridors of your heart.

When Billy arrived with the doctor in tow, you shook it all off, focusing on what was at hand. Sitting in the living room, you answered the doctor's questions with Billy's fingers threaded through yours. At some point your cheeks started to flush from the personal nature of what you were being asked, but you reminded yourself it was for your baby. And there was hardly a thing you wouldn't do for it.

Then one came that stopped you cold in your tracks. "Have you consumed any large amounts of powerful drugs?"

A rough hand tilted your head back, the contents of a bottle pouring down your throat and making you splutter.

Your eyebrows lifted, and Billy turned his head towards you, squeezing your hand and nodding. Lips parting, you tried to formulate what you wanted to say, but it wouldn't come. Something about the question had disarmed you completely and you didn't know why.

Looking up at Billy, you silently conveyed something to him and he nodded, turning to the doctor. "Opium, we think it was. Not by her choice."

The doctor's lips folded in on each other, like the walls of a cave collapsing. He set down his notepad, turning the pages over and tucking it back into his bag. You watched him do all this, feeling disconnected from the scene. He was younger than you'd expected, maybe a decade or so older than you.

Inhaling once, the doctor set his hands on his legs, flexing the fingers. "How much opium?"

Billy covered your clasped hands with his other. "They said it was a miracle she's still here." You squeezed his hand, and he began rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Nodding grimly, the doctor, looked Billy in the eye, than you. "There've been studies back East. About the effects of certain substances on the body."

Dread. It wormed into your bones like a snake, slithering up your spine and wrapping around your neck, cutting off the sweet gift of air. Your breath caught in your throat, and you realized you were gripping Billy's hand. Loosening your hold, you breathed out softly. Please no, please, that can't be it, please-

"It's been linked to fertility," the doctor said quietly, aware of the growing emotional turmoil in the room, building like a storm cloud over your head.

You knew what he meant. And it was far worse than anything you ever could have predicted. The doctor's lips were still moving but you couldn't hear anything he was saying, the buzzing in your ears silencing everything else. Now Billy was speaking, the voice you usually clung to falling on your deaf ears. Your eyes fell to your lap, the fingers of your free hand beginning to tremble. The realization hit you over and over until you were bruised and bloody, your spirit lying on the ground unable to rise.

Billy stood up to see the doctor out, who gave you a sympathetic look. You hardly managed a smile. Everything was spinning out of control, every imagined thing in your mind bending to the whim of this new information like the branches of a willow tree to a storm.

Your arms folded around your midsection, where you'd pulled your skirt out so many times to imagine how it'd look rounded and full of the child of the love of your life. That dream was slipping from your fingers, and you held tight by the fraying threads of it, trying to stitch it back together.

The sofa dipped as Billy assumed his previous spot next to you and grasped your hand. You raised your eyes to him after a beat of silence, a question on your tongue. Is there any way-?

The look in his eyes answered it in full.

Taking in a sharp breath, tears you hadn't known were close at hand began to gather in your eyes and spill down your cheeks. Billy pulled you in, his arms a lifeline and his chest safety. He held you the same way he had after you'd been taken.

The dream was nothing but tangled yarn now, only knotting further when you tried to unravel it. The tiniest of sobs drew from your lips and you gripped his shirt, unwilling and unable to accept it.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, and you felt tears of his own fall like rain into your hair. "If I'd have gotten to you sooner maybe-"

"No." You shook your head, sitting up and framing his face in your hands. "No, it's not your fault." Your voice was soaked in despair, and you tried to swallow it before speaking it again. "It's my body that won't work right, I'm...I'm..." Billy closed his arms around you before you could say another word, holding your head to his shoulder and not even letting you entertain the thought.

The overwhelming sense of loss seemed to consume you, swallowing you whole as you became trapped in its mess. How can you grieve something that never was, that never will be? Every imagined child you'd conjured up was fading, becoming exactly what it was. A thought. Nothing more.

"I wanted it so bad," you breathed, hidden in his chest. Billy made no effort to coax you out. This was his way- absorbing your burdens until they became a part of him.

There was nothing left to do. The only thing remaining was the truth, stripped back bare and cruel and without any question. You realized it over and over again in the moments that followed. It unveiled itself repeatedly as if it were some new angle or facet, and you took it that way each time

Billy didn't let go of you for the rest of the night, his touch the only thing grounding you. You curled up against him as he pulled the covers over you in bed, head on his chest and over his heart.

Raising your head, you found him already looking down at you, sorrow embedded in his irises. He carried the weight of a man thrice his age, and you longed to push it off his shoulders.

You lifted yourself up just slightly, searching his eyes. In an instant, you recognized that deep-seated look, one you swore he'd been wearing since the day he was born.

"It's not your fault," you whispered, palm pressed flat to his chest.

He was silent, just staring at you. Trying again, you softly said, "It's not. This is not your fault."

"I was an outlaw." Billy shook his head, eyes falling to the bedsheets. "I dragged you into this, I'm the reason you got kidnapped...if you hadn't been than maybe-"

"Billy-" you gasped, sitting up fully as he leaned back against the headboard. "Don't. Don't ever say that."

"If it weren't for me then you'd have a chance." He turned his head away. You sat on your knees beside him, reaching for his hands and holding on tight to them.

"Billy." You said it so firmly that he looked at you. "I didn't want a baby with anybody except you. And if that's not meant to happen..." A tear slipped down your cheek, and you bit the side of your cheek. "...all I care about is that I have you."

He exhaled softly, reaching out. "Baby..." You were weary of crying but your body was not, sending another torrent of tears down your cheeks.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered, hand at your crown. "I want you to have everything, I-"

You silenced him by taking in a shaky breath and slowly leaning down to rest against his chest again. His arms cradled you close, and he rubbed your side gently, breaths evening out.

"I do," you murmured, and he lowered his lips to the top of your head. The candle was burning low, melting into the brass dish, and you closed your eyes. Night was mercifully here, and this day was nearly ended.

He whispered it as you were drifting off, the warmth of his body holding you amidst the chill the day had left. "I do too."