Billy The Kid 2022 - Tumblr Posts

“there isn't a fire I've found that...exists without stoking." Lucysgraybird the writer that you are 😭 I don’t care how late this is cause the wait was so worth it. I LOVED THIS SO MUCH

Billy x female reader where she gets the same sickness as her mother and brother but she manages to survive and he takes her to their graves (yep long hours traveling) just to share that part of his past with her because he loves her and is glad she survived because he wouldn’t have bared another lose

hiiii this is so brutally late. im sorry. ive also adjusted a little because i wanted to write it but im so bad at writing travel and couldn't figure out a way to do it that didn't feel drawn out but i can do a part 2 if u want!!

warnings: dscs of death and illness

Billy feels like he's been living in a haze. First a haze of ignorance, pretending that he didn't recognize the wet, hacking sound of the coughs you muffled into your elbow, that the way your brow bloomed with dry heat didn't throw him back into the pit of being seventeen and curled around his mother's febrile form. Then a moment of clarity, like a bucket of ice dumped over his head, when the doctor touched his elbow and confirmed consumption. Finally, and he can't decide which stage he's hated most, a thick fog of despair and desperation, rimy water dripping from washcloths down his arm in twin trails to the sweat he's wiping from your forehead, trying to convince himself of minute drops in your dogged temperature. He nurses broth down your raw throat and prayers up his own, pleas to a God he might not believe in to just leave him with something good in this world and pleas to himself to believe that this time will be different.

And he might just make a return to church, because his calls are answered. Slowly, like a slug creeping to salt, you recover. Color fades from the pyretic spots high on your cheeks and returns to the rest of your face, you sleep through the night without a coughing fit tearing you awake. The brightness in your eyes starts to look more lively and less dazed, and eventually you're strong enough to stand and bathe. Billy helps you into the tub and then opts to sit outside the door -- close enough that his anxiety isn't spiking, that if something happens he can help, but far enough that you can regain some of the autonomy that is ripped away in illness.

He'll never quite figure out why he says this. Maybe it’s the dim candlelight, coaxing the world out of reality and into a dream, a place where anything that happens will stay forever locked somewhere out of time. Maybe it’s that he wants to pretend you have the kind of relationship that demands this honesty, because you've said “‘Til death do us part” and meant it and so he owes you his greatest love and his deepest fears. He'd give you the former without question, of course, but he's still practicing that the latter is an unavoidable sidecar to that kind of devotion.

"I thought you were going to die," he says, and his stomach immediately twists in shame. You're recovering still, and here he is making it about himself. When you don't say anything, surely listening in that tranquil, soft-eyed way that you somehow always managed, he continues.

"I wish you could've met my ma. She was...good, like you. At her core, that's all there was, this sturdy kindness that I never understood how she maintained. Sometimes she'd say that when good people died young, it meant that God thought that spirit belonged more in Heaven than on Earth, and I was so scared that he got...impatient again, with you, and I was so scared that..."

Silence for a moment, then your voice, still hoarse:

"I would've liked to meet her too. She must have been quite the woman, to have raised someone like you."

Billy snorts out a laugh. "Something like that."

There's the sound of sloshing, and Billy can see the way your spine curves in his mind's eye, chest pressed to your thighs and chin rested on your knee. He can hear the way the position stretches your neck in your voice when you speak.

"I'm not letting anyone take me away from you. I don't care how much I'm needed somewhere else, I need to be here with you. You make it easy to be this good, Billy. It isn't in spite of yourself that you always manage to find warmth; there isn't a fire I've found that...exists without stoking."

Tears prickle his eyes and his throat tightens so that the next deep breath he takes squeaks like his voice is dropping again. He can't bring himself to use the crackly tone he knows is the only one he can access now.

"We should visit your ma," you suggest. "Someone's gotta tell her what a wonderful young man she raised."

"Her grave is far," he manages, though the end of the sentence cracks and so does the dam, silent tears streaking his face. In all truth, it's not outrageously far, but he's been scared to visit. Scared to tell his ma who he's had to (chosen to?) become, scared she'll smell the gunsmoke that seems to cling to his hands and clothes and memories, scared she'll meet the ghosts that have become more like his shadow.

There's the patter of wet feet on the bathroom floor and he stands with the intention of making himself scarce by the time you emerge, leaving nothing but the pale ghost of his vulnerability on the floor outside the bathroom as proof of the wall that just crumbled there. He'll calm in bed until you're done bathing, and hope for your mercy in disregarding his momentary fragility. But the door clicks open and there you are in your nightgown. There you are with your skin scrubbed clean, you with your hair in the braid you wear to sleep. There you are with tears on your face, with your arms open to him like the Virgin Mary, offering a forgiveness that he doesn't deserve. The guilt of this will carve stigmata into his hands later, nailing him to the cross of his history, but for now he takes the pity and collapses into you.

"We'll start out tomorrow," you say, overcoming the awkward angle your height difference creates to pet his hair. "I'd like to meet her. We should bring her flowers."

billy would sooo do this, especially after a long night of you teasing him. he’s already frustrated from being out all day, and all he wants is you. billy backs you into the wall, looking down at you. you’re breathing hard, smelling and tasting him without even touching him. he leans in close, you think he’s going to kiss you, yet he doesn’t. he instead pulls out a knife, gently teasing your chest, before cutting your dress exposing your tits.

He’s so?!??😭😭

Tom with tattoo?!😵‍💫😵‍💫🧎‍♀️

-William Bonney x reader

{Billy comes home to you, always}

Hope you enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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If you could curse Billy into the ground you would, right in this moment at least. He’s not the type to break promises he makes to you, always keeping true to his words so perhaps that’s why this feels even worse than it would normally.

Billy promised he’d be back before dinner, his hands clasped around your own as he pressed kisses against your knuckles, trying to soothe the worry in your eyes, “I’ll be back for’dinner, promise baby” he said, before riding out of the safety of the Ranch.

That was just after breakfast, the sun had now settled, and the moon had taken its place, engulfing the horizon with a thick darkness. You couldn’t shake the growing pit of dread that settled in your stomach, your mind ran wild with worry, carried away with questions about his safety, whether or not he was even alive.

You squeeze your eyes shut trying to stop the spiral of panic. You couldn’t handle not knowing, you couldn’t handle the silence and the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows certainly wasn’t helping.

The dinner was stone cold by now, not that you could even stomach it, besides that was the least of your worries. You take a seat on the wooden chair, it creaks underneath you as you lean forward resting your elbows on your knees, waiting on baited breath for his return.

Your leg stops bouncing with nerve as the door opens and your trail of thought comes to a complete halt when you lock eyes with his. “M’so sorry” he sighs catching his breath as he closes the creaky door behind him. He’s drenched to the bone. Locks of wet brown hair curl against his cheek as water droplets run down his face.

You stand up, throwing the kitchen towel you had clasped in your hands at his chest, and it falls to the ground silently. “You fool- where the hell have you been?” The tears in your eyes begin to fall, worry starts to ebb away and in its place is a harsh mixture of relief and anger churning inside you.

Billy can’t stand it, the pain that contorts your face and it doesn’t take long for the guilt to catch up to him. “Sweetheart I was-” You don’t let him finish his sentence as you fling your arms around him, tugging him close to you. Overcome with conflicting emotions, you were so glad he wasn’t on death's door that it was hard to care about anything else.

His clothes are soaked by the rain, seeping onto your own as he holds you against him tightly. “I’m sorry” he whispers into your hair. There’s sincerity in his tone and shows in the way his hands begin to soothe against your back gently.

He repeats the words once more before pressing a kiss to your forehead and then another to your cheek. You pull back slightly, eyes studying him for any injuries as his rough hand's cup either side of your face, his thumb gently wipes away your tears.

“M’fine- I’m alright angel” he says and it’s only when your fingers curl around his wrists, bringing his hands away from your face do you notice the cuts and scrapes along his knuckles causing you to gasp, tugging him further into the kitchen as you scramble to get the first aid kit.

Billy knows better than to stop you, so instead he shuts up and lets you clean the dried blood and tend to the small cuts. There’s a silence that wedges between the pair of you, thick with tension as you hold his hands in your trembling ones.

“I thought you died… you silly man” you mumble, wincing when your voice trembles slightly. Billy leans forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder, closing his eyes as your arms circle around his shoulders.

“I’ll always come back to you… always” he promises with a soft whisper, peppering gentle kisses against your shoulder. He pulls back and you can’t help but completely melt at his loving eyes. “Nothin' can keep me away” he flashes you a sheepish smile, and the pair of you let out a breathy laugh.

“M’being serious… I’ll always find my way back to you” he trails his fingertips along your jaw, words whispered for only you to hear and the sudden seriousness in his tone reminds you just how much you mean to him. He’s already lost too much, he refuses to lose you too.

Billy’s hand settles against your cheek, his fingers curling around the base of your neck as he softly pushes you closer to him. “I love you” he whispers against your lips, noses bumping against each other as he kisses you with such a loving desperation.

“I love you too Billy… so much” warmth blooms within your chest at the way his eyes light up at the words, how he can’t control the bashful smirk that adorns his lips.

You help him wash up with lukewarm water and a cloth, sharing soft kisses and loving touches. He makes up for the lost time by helping you prepare dinner and sitting by the fire as you both eat, never once leaving your side just as it should be.

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AN/ I'm trying to figure out how to write for him but requests are open!

-William Bonney x reader

{Mornings with Billy are certainly something}

Hope you enjoy my lovelies! 💕

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The door to your bedroom lets out an awful squeak as you push it open, your eyes scan across your room landing on the sight of Billy sprawled out over your bed lying on his stomach with his face squashed against the pillows as he sleeps soundly.

He’s painted in the morning sun as its soft light peaks through the curtains like it has something to say, dusting over his skin in the most beautiful way. Billy has been asleep for a while now and you decided it was best to give him a lay in… after last night he deserved it.

You walk over to the bed sitting down next to him, the mattress springs creak under you and even with the movement Billy doesn’t stir, which is odd considering he’s quite the light sleeper, although the thought of him being comfortable enough around you to get a good nights sleep warms you greatly.

Your fingers gently run through his brown hair trying to coax him from his slumber. He groans softly burying his face further into the pillow and you can’t stop the smile that teeters against your lips.

“You getting up anytime soon?” You tease lightly, gentle fingers brushing his hair from his face as he looks up at you through half-lidded, sleepy eyes before pushing his face further against the pillows and you’re not sure he even heard a word you just said.

A moment passes before he looks back up to you with a soft smile. “You said something, honey?” He asks through his sleep-laden tone, rough and slightly scratchy, the sound makes you melt.

You chuckle softly as you look down at him, his hand reaching over to rest against your hip. “Yeah, I asked if you were getting up anytime soon?” You respond as his hand moves upwards slightly to your waist.

He nods against the pillows. His eyes squint slightly as they adjust to the sun's bright morning light, he rubs them softly, trying to blink the lingering sleep away.

“Is there any rush?” He smirks, looking up at you with those blue eyes of his as he stretches his arm above his head with a soft groan.

“You’d miss breakfast… can’t have you going hungry now can we?” you tell him with a soft smile, watching as he sits up on the bed leaning up on his hand while his other rests against your hip.

Billy shakes his head softly as he inches closer to you, resting his chin against your shoulder. “That’d be a shame… missing out on breakfast with you” he says pressing a delicate kiss to the underside of your jaw, he enjoys the way it makes you smile… how you shy away ever so slightly.

“Then hurry up and get out of bed,” You tell him, smirking softly as you stand up from the bed, he yawns stifling the sound behind his hand.

Billy lets out a soft huff as you stand up moving away from him. “Alright… alright” he sighs as he finally gets up and out of bed.

He watches you from the archway of your kitchen as you cut up the fruit, it’s the same fruit you grow just outside. He notices your hands and how they move with such fluidity and care and he can't seem to look away.

You glance over at him with a soft smile as he walks over to you, his back leaning against the kitchen countertops. You go back to chopping up the fruits. It’s peaceful. A certain serenity that he’s never had before, but he thinks in this moment, admiring you and how the morning sun kisses your skin as you prepare breakfast, that he could get used to this.

Billy rests a hand against your hip as he leans over to pinch a piece of strawberry, he’s too quick and you can’t shoo his hand away in time, he’s already eating the sweet fruit.

“No manners” you mumble under your breath as he chuckles softly pulling you closer to him by your hips with a boyish smirk on his face, he just can't keep his hands off you.

Your hands rest against his shoulders as you look at him, your eyes softening as he smiles at you. “M’just testing it” he whispers with a soft grin, admiring you with eyes full of love as you stand between his legs, his hands moving to settle at your waist.

“You’re awfully distracting this morning,” you tell him as he presses his thumb against your chin tilting your head slightly, he leans into you.

“Can’t help it… you’re beautiful” he says and you can feel the warmth of his skin as he leans closer to you, his slightly gun-calloused hand rests against the side of your face as he kisses you softly, pulling you closer to him by your waist so he can deepen the kiss. You can taste the sweetness of the strawberry on his tongue.

Your smile causes him to pull away slightly as the kiss tapers off lovingly, his hand still resting against the side of your face. “Are you gonna let me finish breakfast or are you gonna keep kissing me?” You smile as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Are you giving me an option?” His fingers gently brush your hair behind your ear, he can feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips. “Because if that’s the case” he whispers, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you even closer. His soft lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck and you can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of your mouth.

The sound of the morning birds echo through the air making a perfect melody with your laughter as he peppers your warm skin with delicate kisses. It’s peaceful and Billy thinks he could do this every morning.

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Billy the Kid Masterlist

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William Bonney-

Billy comes home

Mornings with Billy

Billy can’t handle you being in pain.

Reassuring Billy

-William Bonney x reader

{Billy can’t handle you being in pain, even if you were defending him}

Enjoy my lovelies💕

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Silence is the only thing you’re met with when Billy walks into your quaint house, silence and a glare. You don’t bother asking him what’s wrong you already know why exactly he’s looking at you with his narrowed eyes and a deep frown.

“Billy-” you begin hoping to soften the blow by explaining your poor choices in picking fights with men who are three times your size and have loaded guns at their hips.

“No… don’t.” Billy stops you mid-sentence as he walks over to you, his hands immediately grasping yours as he assesses the damage to knuckles, split and redraw. A soft sigh escapes his lips whilst his thumb gently soothes the back of your hand.

“Christ, what have I told?” He asks, his frown deepening slightly as his eyes meet yours full of worry and frustration.

It’s the second time something like this happened, the last time Billy was there to stop you this time however he wasn’t, instead he found out from people talking about it around town.

Hushed whispers about how ‘Billy’s girl throws a mean punch’ and how you were ‘more trouble than you’re worth’. It was already a rough time in Lincoln without you adding to the mix, he just can’t keep up with it all.

Perhaps that’s why he is much more angered by this than he probably should be. “I know but if you would’ve heard them— what they were saying...” You try and reason with him as you recall the muttered insults about him, the threats and the way they dragged your name into their snide remarks.

“You’re getting into fights over some words.” He sneers as if it was the most stupid thing he’s heard. He tugs your hand as he guides you to sit down at the kitchen table and you can’t help but bite the inside of your cheek nervously as you watch him rummage through the cabinets looking for a first aid kit with a mean frown, the tension so thick it was almost hard to breathe.

Any words you thought might’ve defended your actions die on your tongue and you’re left speechless as he cleans your knuckles with a damp clean rag, his hand holding yours.

“I don’t think you realise how dangerous this is… it takes one of em’ to pull their gun out and then what, huh?” He snaps glaring up at you with narrowed eyes, the light of the lamp flickers across his face casting a shadow across his deep frown.

Billy catches on to how you bite the inside of your lip and the way your eyes begin to gloss over. He hates how the guilt immediately starts to eat at him. He takes a deep breath. “You can’t keep this up… do you understand?” He whispers, his blue eyes gleaming with fear.

The room is heavy with silence as you nod your head whilst he continues to clean the cuts on your knuckles, the sensation stings a little but it’s nothing compared to the sight of his disapproval.

“I’m sorry… I just can’t stand it.” You whisper, finally breaking the silence as you look down at the way he handles you with such great care almost as if you were made from glass.

Billy looks up at you and his expression softens slightly with understanding because he damn well knows that if he ever caught anyone bad-mouthing you he’d make them regret it… but that doesn’t change the fact that he hates seeing you hurt for his sake.

“I know…” he breathes before holding up your hands slightly so you can get a good look at the cuts that split across your knuckle. “I can handle that… but this… this I can’t.” He tells you, squeezing your hands ever so softly.

His rough hands cup either side of your face and his blue eyes meet yours with worry but there’s a deep love that flickers within them that you don't miss. “You gotta stop baby… I can’t lose you.” He whispers, his voice breaking with vulnerability.

A shaky breath escapes your lips as he presses his forehead against yours, “Alright... alright." You promise, pausing briefly before speaking once again, "I love you, Billy.” You whisper softly and your heart melts at the sight of the smile that teeters against his lips.

“I love you too… so damn much.” He tells you and although his voice is gentle there’s still a certain sincerity in his tone that makes your head spin.

Billy presses his lips to yours in a slow, meaningful kiss, holding your face as if you were going to vanish into thin air. He needs you to be alright or he fears he might just lose the last threads of his sanity.

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William Bonney is the most caring man you’ve ever been with, despite his rugged appearance and the title that weighs upon his shoulders, he’s the softest man you’ve ever met.

At least to you that is, you get to see the gentler sides of him that didn’t exist within ‘Billy the Kid’ the character that everyone seems to have a different version of. You get to see the man who longs for a simpler life.

You give him that, a glimpse of a simpler life and it’s something he knows that he might not have forever, but those are thoughts for a different day.

Right now he’s trying to focus on teaching you how to hold a gun properly, his chest pressing up against your back with his hands holding the tops of your arms. Immediately you tense up, stretching your arms out in front of you as you grasp his pistol tightly.

“Baby, you gotta stop locking your elbows.” He chuckles, his hands reaching for your forearms as he adjusts your posture. It’s the fifth time he’s reminded you and you repeat the mistake each time, without fail.

He drops a kiss against your shoulder, taking in the hint of lavender that lingers within your hair from this morning’s outings. “I’m trying Billy.” You whisper with a small whine, a pout gracing your lips.

“S’alright… you’ll get there.” He encourages you, pressing another kiss against your jaw before moving your hands to hold the gun more comfortably.

“Stop tensing up, you’re in control here.” He reminds you with a gentle tone, helping your aim a little before stepping back ever so slightly.

You take a deep breath, Billy’s gun-calloused hands reaching to cover your ears from the sound as you squeeze the trigger, a soft gasp escaping your lips. With a loud bang, the bullet hits the tree beside the bottle you are aiming for.

You huff in slight frustration, watching as he takes the gun gently from your hands, he twirls it flawlessly around his fingers before slipping it into the holster.

“Now you’re just showing off.” Your comment makes him smirk, stepping closer to you with a look in his eyes that makes your chest feel all warm.

His arm wraps around your waist as he tugs you closer to him with a chuckle, “You’re too impatient.” He whispers against your lips, kissing you sweetly. You groan softly, looking up at him as his arms stay wrapped around you. It’s true, you’re far too impatient with yourself and it’s something Billy caught onto quickly.

“Yeah… I know.” You huff, pressing your face against his shoulder as his big hands cradle the back of your head. His fingers brushing through your hair as he presses a kiss against your temple.

“My sweet girl.” He whispers, his free hand coming to caress your jaw as he tries to coax you to look back up at him.

Your eyes meet his with a small smile, his thumbs brushing over your warm cheeks. The afternoon sun paints you both with a warm, orange light that casts over the grassy plains.

“You gotta give yourself time, stop being so hard on yourself.” He says, lips pressed against the side of your head. There’s something about his tone that makes your chest tighten, and you know he isn’t just talking about the gun.

You nod your head as his hands still cup either side of your face, his eyes fixed onto your own as he watches the words fail to leave your lips so you open and close your mouth.

He’s so gentle with the way he loves you, it leaves you completely breathless and yearning for more. Perhaps that gives reason for the tears that begin to build up in your eyes, he quickly wipes them away with his thumbs.

“Thank you.” Your words come out in a whisper, a loving smile gracing your lips as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t gotta thank me.” He says, his words carrying a promise to forever love you in the way you deserve.

He hugs you against him, his arms wrapping around your body with his chin resting on top of your head. You both share whispered ‘I love you’s’ between sweet kisses.

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Everyone deserves a reassuring Billy <3

sup guys i was wondering if I should post the billy the kid fanfic now or write part 2 first?

tell me what you think

You put a spell on me

[A/N: I was too lazy to wait for the end of the poll. also i haven't watched the show and wikipedia is kinda holding me up so don't get mad at me for messing smth up, i'll go on the fan wiki tho, they always have everything.]

[EDIT: guys I forgot about the civil war 💀💀💀 I finally fixed it tho so yay]

Part 1/Part 2

Masterlist

[Billy the Kid (Tom Blyth's version) x desi!oc]

Warning: description of blood, slight violence, flogging, racism, flogging, slaves, smut in maybe part 6?

Summary: Sheila was a slave taken by a British couple at the age of 12 for her singing. She was brought to America even though they had the 13th Amendment where slavery was abolished. She saw a friend of hers, who was brought with her, getting flogged and that was her last straw, proceeding to run away. Until she sees the most notorious outlaw in the South, then she settles to free her friends from the British couple that came to America for money.

It was July.25, 1878, Lincoln County, New Mexico. Sheila woke up to nothing but harsh screams coming from one of her friends as she was beaten and whipped. She felt worried because the girl was new…Unlike Sheila who had been with the owner since she was twelve, merely because his wife liked her singing when they had come to visit British India.

Her friend, Catherine, was a sad sixteen-year-old, mourning the death of her parents. They had threatened the owners of telling law enforcement what was happening but they knew that they wouldn't do anything about it.

The other slaves ran to her screams but were faced with fear and did nothing besides revel in their powerlessness. Sheila sat there, her damp brown skin and greasy raven hair clinging to her shell of a body. She knew how this would end, knew that they would be feeble against the man–Edward J. Mason– but she was ready to clean Catherine’s wounds and reassure her that she would be alright.

“Oh, look at my slave, Sheila, so obedient! You never have to hurt her, Edward!”

The sadistic gray-haired man chuckled, kissing his wife.

“ And aren’t I glad, Penelope! We chose her when she was twelve, it has been seven years since, of course, she’d love us, this is why I love Indians! They always gift us with beauty and trust.”

They both glanced at the gaunt, starved girl before chuckling. The Mistress patted Sheila’s head and reached for a rake beside her, beckoning to the other slaves. 

Penelope Mason was a woman no different from her husband. Many wives were afraid of their spouses but Penelope was a wife who had nothing but pride in her bones. The rake in Penelope’s hand was covered in blood, meant to whip the slaves that threatened their control and most times Sheila could willing block out the screeches and screams, but now she just felt angry, ready to beat the couple with no morals. 

But she was stuck being useless to defend them.

Fear is a burden that was attached to her like a drug, and only withdrawal held her back from screaming her heart out.

Until she found a boy with the brightest blue eyes. 

From what she’d heard, he was an outlaw.

Billy the Kid was infamous because he was the man who killed a sheriff months ago, and chased out of the state. It was a mystery how he gained the courage to return to New Mexico.

“ Who’re you?” The man questioned, his vibrant cobalt eyes gazing at her with hostility.

Sheila didn’t want to think more about the dominant color in his entire posture and frame. His clothes were darker than sin and brighter than the sun, but his eyes were the only thing she could pay attention to, causing her to ignore their proximity.

“ I am a slave, belonging to the Mason family.”

He tilted his head, shocked eyes analyzing their surroundings.

“ I didn’ ask what you were forced to be, I asked who you are.”

“ My name is Sheila, is that what you want?”

“ Huh, I’m Billy, but considerin’ the poster you were starin’ at a min’ ago, you already know that. But...how did you...No, how dare they have slaves!”

The dividers were made by @wandanatromanova

little blurb of you put a spell on me bc i havent posted in a month

The poster was ruined, and tomatoes littered on the muddy ground next to the tree where it was posted. She suddenly had a feeling that, yes, Billy was an outlaw, but most poor people loved criminals, fighting for justice, yet he was hated. “ You’re the infamous outlaw, Billy the Kid. You know the sheriff around these parts is looking for you.” “ Yet, I jus' met a person who has been unjustly forced into servitude, doesn’t that sound odd too?” She frowned, eyes gazing at the ground, bitter at his confidence. “ They’re British, and I’m Indian.” “ But this is the United States of America, it’s illegal here.” “ But they don’t care, we’re in the south, pretty boy.” A smug grin caught her eye, Sheila wanted to smack it off his beautiful face. “ Most people call me Billy, but ’m glad you think ’m pretty.” ‘Pretty boy,’ had only slipped out because he was crowding her vision with his eyes, people with eyes that aren’t brown tend to do that, or maybe that was just the British because he didn’t seem so attached to his sapphire irises as most people she’d met are. “ I-” Sheila was cut off by the sound of stampeding horses coming straight for her, guns swinging, and the face of Edward Mason glaring through her vision.

Guys ive been missing for days and im sorry about that, wrote like 5 words today but i knew i should post at least smth ,':}

but also if you know me from ao3 (which would be weird because i have a different username) yk that i have a Coryo x reader fic about time travel and I just want to post that here too so it doesn't seem like i forgot about my hubby ;)

love you!

hope everyone who reads this has a good day/night!

You put a spell on me

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

Masterlist

[ Billy the Kid (Tom's version) x desi!oc]

[A/N: if you haven't got it yet, or ur not brown, I named her sheila bc offf......the song sheila ki jawani. its too good 🥲🥲🥲, also if u havent seen that one edit in part one, i did say that i forgot about the civil war but edited both parts to include why shelia is a slave even though the civil war fought against slavery]

Warning: gore, violence, gun and knife violence.

Summary: Sheila, the 'slave' according to her, just met Billy the Kid, but they're surrounded by the cowboys employed by Edward Mason to catch all stray slaves.

The poster was ruined, and tomatoes littered on the muddy ground next to the tree where it was posted. She suddenly had a feeling that, yes, Billy was an outlaw, but most poor people loved criminals, fighting for justice, yet he was hated.

“ You’re the infamous outlaw, Billy the Kid. You know the sheriff around these parts is looking for you.”

“ Yet, I just met a person who has been unjustly forced into servitude, doesn’t that sound odd?”

She frowned, eyes gazing at the ground, bitter at his confidence.

“ They’re British, and I’m Indian.”

“ But this is America, it’s illegal here.”

“ But they don’t care, we’re in the south, pretty boy.”

A smug grin caught her eye, Sheila wanted to smack it off his beautiful face.

“ Mos’ people call me Billy, but ‘m glad ya think ’m pretty.”

‘Pretty boy,’ had only slipped out because he was crowding her vision with his eyes, people with eyes that aren’t brown tend to do that, or maybe that was just the British because he didn’t seem so attached to his sapphire irises as most people she’d met are.

“ I-”

Sheila was cut off by the sound of stampeding horses coming straight for her, guns swinging, and the face of Edward Mason glaring through her vision.

When Edward saw the cowboy standing near his ‘slave’, he rejoiced, assuming that Billy would help him carry her back to the warehouse.

“ Oh my! Thank you for finding my wretched slave! Now pass her over…” His threatening voice caused Sheila to give Billy a wry smile, expecting him to give her to that deranged slave owner. Even if he believed that slavery shouldn’t be performed, he was human, and all humans are greedy and selfish.

Sheila deemed William H. Bonney to be the same.

She closed her eyes, feeling her mother’s hand graze her cheek with the same warmth she’d felt four years ago, back in the tent her family lived in. She’d known she wouldn’t last long before the Masons caught up with her, she just hoped that there was some form of mercy in their veins.

“ No. I like ‘er, I think I’ll keep ‘er for myself, ya know?

AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA

sorry it took soooo long to finish writing this, im in the middle of a writing and reading slump :,(

guys I’m more in love than I was before but also hurt badly, what does this meannnnnn

saccharine

Perhaps it was your destiny to annoy william h bonney and perhaps it was his destiny to hate you, but things can change.

aka; cowgirl!reader who teases the shit out of him x billy who 'hates' you, or so he says

fem!reader

if you'd like to talk about this dynamic, talk to me here :)

blurbs, asks, etc below the cut!

* = smut (asks will be tagged with saccharine)

stealing his hat

wear the hat, ride the cowboy*

billy snaps