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a-romantics-guide-to-life · 9 months ago

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OH EMM GEEEE MILLIE THIS IS LITERALLY PURE PERFECTION!!!!!!

WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW I FEEL NOW BECAUSE THIS WAS LITERALLY SO PERFECT BECAUSE OML

⟡ OMG THE DESCRIPTIONS WERE LITERALLY SO GOOD LIKE THE ANALOGIES YOU CARVED OUT OF WORDS WERE JUST SO AMAZING AND KEPT ME GOING "DAMNNNN"

⟡ It was a doomed narrative. He could feel it in every touch, every kiss, every lingering semblance of love. THIS?!?!?! OMG THIS IS LITERALLY SO PERFECT AND LIKE IT REALLY ENVELOPS HOW I FEEL BECAUSE NOW IM SOBBING AND THROWING UP YOU'RE KIDDING THIS WAS SO GOOD

⟡ THE WHOLE STORYLINE JUST FITS THIS SONG TOO LIKE IT LITERALLY FITS SO WELL AND OUGHHH I JUST CAN'T HOLD BACK THE UNHOLY SCREECHES THAT ARE LEAVING MY MOUTH BECAUSE I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO BE PERFECT BUT NOW IT'S JUST 10000000000000000/10

⟡ There were novels you could have written full of everything you wanted to tell him. But silence held your tongue, and you regretted it more with every minute. OUGH THIS LINE REALLY STUCK WITH ME BECAUSE TBH I HAVE TOTALLY FELT THIS WAY ABT SOMEONE BEFORE I MEAN LIKE obv it wasn't exactly like this BUT STILL THIS IS ALSO JUST SO PERFECT

ALL IN ALL THIS SONG THIS FIC AND THE WAY YOU BEAUTIFULLY STRING WORDS INTO A WHOLE STORY JUST MAKES ME FERAL

⋆౨ৎ𝓞 𝓑𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮, 𝓞 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓗𝓪𝓽𝓮⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst. so much angst. pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: billy finds his way back to you author’s note: yeah...yeah. thank you all for 500, I hope you enjoy this!! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The days without him were empty boxes tied up with ribbon. In a failed attempt to spin them into light like straw to gold, you told yourself that those long hours evicted from Billy's arms only made the little time you had with him all the sweeter. It did little to raise your spirits.

You tried not to miss him before he was gone. Here, sheets pulled up to your waist, the smell of straw tickling your nose in the chapel of the barn on your father's property, you found heaven on earth. His hair was tangled, and you could see the ghost of your fingers trailing through it, twisting around his curls and reveling in the way the light from the cracked window caught his face just right.

Billy's eyes were closed, his hand trailing absentmindedly up and down your side like a rolling wave. Your head was resting on his other bicep, back molded to his chest. That same arm was held in your grasp against you like a child's bear.

Though you were resting, body blissfully tired from loving all night, you were staring at the wall, lost in thought with no map. In the corner of the loft, his clothes were messily folded, hat perched haphazardly on the arm. One boot was sitting upright, the other on its side, heel touching its mate. It was a third presence in the supposed safety of this space. As long as those boots were here, he could leave.

When you'd first met him in town, you hadn't at all known what you were in for. One minute you had been petting a stranger's horse, giggling as the creature nuzzled into your hand. The next, a handsome man with bright blue eyes was telling you that the animal belonged to him, and that he didn't usually take to people so easily.

A spark became a fire, and before you knew it you were ducking into alleyways to kiss him, sneaking through your bedroom window late at night and finding your way into bars to spend a few hours under his arm as his girl. You were living inside a secret.

Billy shifted, adjusting his arm under your head. Dipping, he nudged his lips against your crown, and you swore you heard him breathe in. He knew. He was just as aware of how delicate this all was, maybe more than you were.

Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, he nuzzled into your neck, hand creeping around the corridors of your body to find yours. Still keeping hold of his arm, your other fingers closed around his, and you tilted your head back.

"You okay?" Billy murmured; voice smoky with sleep. His thumb traveled up the hills of your knuckles, rubbing the valleys between.

You hummed, turning around to face him, hair wrapping around your neck like a scarf. Now his eyes were open, and the deep blue of them nearly drowned you. A slow, sleepy smile crept up his lips like a crescent moon shadow, and you blinked lazily at him. "I'm okay."

He pulled the wispy sheet further up without letting go of your hand, raising it to his lips afterward and settling them between you. "I've gotta go soon."

"Don't," you mumbled, kissing his chest. "Stay here with me."

"'nd what happens when your daddy finds us in here 'n pulls a shotgun on me?"

"Are you the fastest draw in the West or not?"

"Baby," Billy groaned, hands falling to your hips and lifting you up, positioning you atop his own. He lifted under your arms to keep you upright as he sat up. It made no difference- you flopped against him as soon as he was close again, slouching like a low hanging branch.

He chuckled into your hair, and you treasured the sound, sealing it away for later like a lover's Pandora's box. "Can't just go 'round guns blazin' cause you want more cuddles."

You pushed your bottom lip out like a dresser drawer, eyes going round and glassy, a pool of reflection. "Don't tell me you don't want more cuddles."

"I do." His hand petted your hair leisurely, and you lifted your head into the touch like a sun-drunk cat. The other fell to your bottom, nudging at it gently to move you forward on his thighs. "But I've gotta go, sweet girl. You know I've gotta go."

"Hmph." Your lips puckered into a pout, and he laughed, kissing it once. Lifting your chin, you let your eyelashes touch your lids as you stared at him. "When will you come back?"

Billy's face fell, and he thumbed your cheek, not responding. You whimpered, searching his eyes and grasping at him desperately. "Billy."

"I'll be back soon," he promised, and you huffed, getting off him and turning to lie on your stomach. Even though it felt childish, acting this way, after Billy risked life and liberty to see you, you couldn't help it. Billy was your air, and you needed to breathe.

A hand settled on your back, rubbing slightly. Billy would never reprimand you, never deem you ungrateful even if that was exactly what you were. He felt terrible about the circumstance of it all, you knew. A kiss was pressed to the crown of your head, and he slid an arm under your tummy, pulling you into his side. "I know. I know, sweet girl. 'm so sorry."

The earnesty in his voice struck you like an arrow to the heart. You turned your head to face him, breathing in softly. "I'm being a brat."

"No, baby, never." Billy let his chin rest on your head, hand crept around the circumference of your body. He kissed your bare shoulder. "I don't wanna leave you either."

You burrowed into his chest, feeling like an animal seeking hibernation's warmth. He let you, and you could almost feel his reluctance, the impending doom of the time to let go. He didn't draw any attention to it, since it was already looming over the two of you like a dark shadow.

"I'll write you lots more," Billy promised, burying his nose in your hair. "And you'll write me too?"

It was his way of checking to see if you were upset with him, you knew. And he sounded so hopeful, like dawn cracking the day's eggshell open to the sunburst within.

You nodded, punctuating it with a quiet, "Yes. Of course."

"There we go." Billy pressed a kiss to your forehead, drawing a smile from you, hidden in his chest. Already you could hear the signs of the world coming to life, reminding you that it was bigger than the space you took up here. Below the loft, his horse snuffled, hooves against straw tapping a reminder.

Billy's lips found your hair again, and then he began to untangle himself from you, gently tucking your arms under the sheet and smoothing it over you. Protests died on your lips when you caught his expression, bittersweet and longing.

When he began to dress himself, you did not stop him, merely lying back on the loft bed and watching him fasten his pants, button his shirt up save for the top three. You'd told him once how handsome he looked with a looser collar, and it had stayed with him.

Sitting on the bed by your knees, he began to tug his boots on, and you wanted to cry at the sight. At least he hadn't put his hat on yet. You let your eyes fall to your hand in front of you, nails smooth and rounded. Billy liked it when you scratched his head after a long day.

He leaned over, forearms bracketing your body, and let his chin nestle on your chest. His eyes grew soft, brow relaxing, an almost-smile probing at the corners of his mouth. You'd flung one arm above your head, the other on your collarbone. Billy took the latter, kissing the curve below your thumb. "I'll come back soon, my love."

"Soon," you repeated softly, searching his eyes. He nodded, reaching up to kiss your forehead, then your nose, all the while holding your hand. Billy always saved a kiss to the lips for last. You'd come to associate it with endings.

His mouth found yours, and you savored it, an invisible hand recording every detail to reminisce on later. The bed creaked as he stood, and you didn't let go of his hand until he was too far to reach.

Closing your eyes, you refused to watch him leave. It was better sometimes to convince yourself that it was all a dream.

Five years is an eternity when you loved her. Longer when you still do.

Through the dusty, endless stretches of the desert, most nights spent lonely, Billy tried and failed to find solace in time. It was his enemy, yet an attempted comfort. He wasn’t watching an hourglass, he was inside one, drowning in every second, every grain of sand that settled atop him, spilling from the brim of his hat.

He wandered near and far, finding nearly forgotten cities to pass through that were nearly identical to each other. Maybe someday he would wither away into the palm of the earth, his body decaying into nothingness, and then the pain would end.

You had imprinted yourself on him, left a gaping hole like a bullet wound he couldn't seem to stitch up. The memories circled him like a pack of wolves, baring their pearly teeth and threatening to pounce. He managed to keep them at bay.

There was a part of him that couldn't seem to take any final step. One that gently pushed the hands of hired women off his shoulders at the places he stayed, one that seeped into every crack and corner of his being. You haunted him- it was as plain as that.

It was that last recollection, the most recent, that came to him in dreams, touched his shoulders and whispered how badly he'd messed up. The image of you, eyes shut, stained with dried tear tracks.

Your details were recalled individually, and in desperate hours, he tried to put them back together. But they wouldn't form a whole. Your bright eyes, your soft skin. The ribbons you always wore in your hair. The way you held him, kissed him. Billy was nearly sure he'd dreamt you to life. Had he gone dry in the sandy expanse of the desert, hallucinated something beyond even the wildest dreams of men?

He didn't know what he was doing back here. It was a shot in the dark, something wildly out of place and reckless beyond his instincts. Even though he'd left for you, he couldn't help searching. Every woman your height with your hair that passed had him turning his head. It was stupidly hopeless, and Billy hated how lost he was in any possibility. After what had happened, he didn't even deserve to look at you.

The town square was bustling, crammed with people about all businesses. Billy concluded his dealings fairly quickly, packing his finds into the saddlebags slung over his horse's back. He shifted the strap of it, tightening the belt, eyes focused and thoughts far away. It'd be at least two days ride to the next town, no matter which direction he decided to go.

Everywhere he looked was crawling with memories, infested almost. Billy suppressed a shiver, mind wandering to places he didn't want it to. Your ghost was hot on his heels, nipping at him like the cold. Billy didn't want to dwell on it- it would only lead to a night of longing for what was lost.

Truthfully, he should be grateful he even had you to begin with. The softest, sweetest girl he'd ever met, and you'd been all his for more than a year. Maybe it was enough to stretch across a lifetime without you.

He turned, wiping his brow with the back of his head and looking into the crowd. From where he was standing, there was a modicum of privacy, near an alleyway. Nobody was sparing him a second glance, and for that he was grateful.

It was too late in the day to start riding for the next spot. He'd take the night here and then start up early in the morning. An outlaw's life kept him moving, though admittedly, maybe he didn't need to as much as he had five years ago.

But he had a habit. The pattern was set, and Billy supposed he would keep running from place to place with accompanying memories dogging him for the rest of his life. The thought probed him whenever he tried to fall asleep, and he evaded it for as long as he could. It was a miserable thing to think about, especially when he knew now what it was to be happy.

He heaved a breath, turning his head to the side, eyes roving from person to person. Then something like a flower in a wasteland made him freeze, caught like a fish on a hook.

You. Lovely as ever, petting the neck of your chocolate horse, sweeping a strand of hair over your shoulder. He'd know you anywhere, out of a crowd of millions. Billy was shell-shocked, feeling the same way he did the last time he'd laid eyes on you, just as stunned as the first.

Time looked good on you. It had taken your beauty and spun it into something he would call angelic. Your demeanor still shone like a star, an emanating thing that glowed. Billy couldn't tear his eyes away. His chest ached at the fact that he'd missed whatever changes had occurred all these years, that he hadn't been there for every second. You were the woman he'd wanted to grow old with, and now it was devastatingly clear that nothing had paused when he'd left.

You looked up, likely feeling his eyes on him, and went rigid. Eyes widening, lips parting, you looked as though you'd seen someone killed. Billy couldn't find it in himself to move, to do anything. It felt like you were the only two people in the world.

He wanted to run over, lift you into his arms and kiss you silly, show you how sorry he was for everything. For leaving you, for doing the one thing he promised he wouldn't. For the night he'd told you he was hitting the road. He wanted to turn back the hands of the clock and fix it, revise his regrets.

You were moving toward him before he could do any of that, and he was stunned still. Was this how it would feel to see you walk down the wedding aisle to him? Billy's heart was beating double-time, as if to make up for the time spent away from its mate.

When you were three feet away, you came to a stop, just looking at him. Now that you were close, he could piece you together again. You were an ethereal being, a desert angel. He thought he might be dreaming until you spoke up, voice soft. "Billy."

"Darlin'." The word slipped out before he could regulate it, and something seemed to change in your eyes.

There were a thousand things he wanted to say, and they all fizzled out before he could even try. You beat him to it. "You're back in town."

"Yeah." Billy was cursing himself internally as he said it. Five years separated from the love of his life and that was all he could think to say?

The air was thick with both heat and tension, and he was choking on it. Billy's eyes fell to your left hand, heart panging hopelessly when he noticed the gold band encircling it.

You followed his gaze, an almost guilty expression taking over. "I...my father arranged it. He got a good deal on a nice plot of land down south."

Billy was silent, glued to the sight of it. He didn't know how he could have been so stupid. Every grand vision he'd had since deciding to ride over here dissipated, leaving nothing but dust. Of course you'd been married. Of course a girl as beautiful and effervescent as you had been snatched up like a fresh flower in the spring, whether it was by your choice or not.

He could see it all whenever he looked at you. The future he'd wished for when you both were young lovers, blissful and innocent. The house he wanted to build for you, the children born from you whom he'd tried to imagine. Growing old, seeing strands of white and silver that would only serve your beauty. Billy once had it all in the palm of his hand, and he'd been forced to let it go.

But he'd done it for you. Everything since he'd met you had been.

Opening his mouth to congratulate you, to wish you the best, he suddenly noticed the chain falling over your collarbone, the pendant dipping into the bodice of your dress.

Countless nights invaded his memory, hours shrouded under darkness tracing every inch of you. That very same chain brushing his cheek, heart-shaped charm falling to his neck as you bent over and kissed him.

Billy was reaching out before he could ask permission, lifting the pendant from your neckline like a fisherman pulling up his catch. His eyes widened.

There it was. The heart, the one he knew without checking had his initials on the other side, so pretty they didn't look like they belonged to such a roughened man as he. But that wasn't what drew his lips apart, made him look back at you.

It was the golden circlet with tiny curlicued flowers engraved into the surface, clinking alongside the silver heart.

You looked like you were about to cry, breath hitching when he asked softly, "You kept it?"

"Of course I kept it," you whispered, searching his eyes.

Now his heart was beating for an entirely different reason. He could feel his soul gravitating towards yours like a moth to a flame. The logical side of his head was shaking him, poking him in the eyes. She's married. She's married, stop it.

You had kept the ring. The one he never could have given another woman, the one he'd left in the spot where he usually lay the last time he met you for a late-night rendezvous in your father's abandoned barn.

Billy knew you. He knew your nature, your being, your soul. This wasn't nothing.

"Baby..." he breathed, letting the necklace fall against your breast.

Something beyond what he knew, a baser instinct, was pulling him in, like gravity had taken on a new form. You were his sunshine, and he was orbiting around you, getting closer as you burned brighter. Billy could see it in your eyes as you moved forward, delicate hands finding his chest.

Five years could have been five days. And he would have missed you this much.

You didn't tuck the necklace back into your dress, instead standing on your tiptoes and letting your lips brush his, ever so slightly.

He was pressing you to the door, hand at the base of your neck as you tilted your head back, hair cushioning your head against the wood. You whimpered as his hands fell to your waist, gripping you tight and pulling you in so you were pressed right against him. His thumbs rubbed your hip bones, the intimacy of it along with his lips hungrily dashing down your neck making your tummy jump.

Billy slid one leg between your thighs, moving it up to your most sensitive spot, and a tiny moan slithered from your lips. You gasped, hands flying to his shirt, gripping both sides of it. Instantly your fingers began to tug at his buttons, eager to feel him, the warmth of his skin. It had been so long...too long.

When he'd left, you'd never expected to see him again. With each year you became more hopeless, resigning that the one love you'd ever had was lost forever. You had mourned it, refused to let go of any piece of him. Even once the ring of another man was slid onto your finger, all you thought of was Billy.

And now here he was, body pinning you to the door of your husband's house.

Your spouse was out of town, on a trip that would take weeks there and back, the purpose of which you hadn't bothered to ask about. It would have been forgotten anyways, as Billy practically devoured you. All that mattered was that he wasn't here. And that Billy was.

Lifting his knee into you at just the right angle, Billy breathed in when you moaned. "That's it...right there, baby? Right there."

His lips found yours again, and you practically melted under his hands. In a swoop, you were in his arms, being carried somewhere you couldn't place. A mattress found your back, and you recognized your bedroom. How he had found it was a mystery, but it was irrelevant.

"All this time..." he murmured into your mouth. "You ain't been kissed the way you should be. Woman like you..." Billy pecked your lips once, tearing his suspenders away and carefully unhooking the buttons of your dress, exposing your chemise. "Needa be kissed good."

He repeated your name like a mantra, taking you places you'd missed, his skin blooming into yours. You breathed in, your body moving of its own accordance against his. One large hand found your jaw, thumb digging into your cheek as his lips moved rhythmically against yours.

It reminded you of the ocean. The way you crashed and flowed together, two parts becoming a whole. He fit in all the same spots he used to, his touch electric just like it was the very first time. Your Billy. Your senses clouded until he was the only thing left, holding you tenderly and kissing you where you wanted to be.

Afterglow was golden hour, wildflowers and sugar cubes on your tongue. But it was also this, lying here in the arms of the man you'd loved in darkness for as long as you'd known him. His chest was bare, his head tilted back in a show of pure bliss. You were tucked under his arm, one palm flat on your back, his other hand at your waist. The way he held you, you got the distinct impression that he was worried you'd disappear.

Lifting your head, your smile lighting like sunshine. Even after this, after he'd taken your clothes off and kissed you senseless, done something with you that only ever meant anything with him, you were still unsure if this was a dream or not. Had you passed out from the heat in town, now a crumpled figure beside your horse?

Billy reached up with the hand that had been on your back, two fingers stretching out to gather your hair and tuck it behind your ear like curtains from a window. He watched you for a moment the same way you watched flowers begin to bloom in the springtime.

"When does your husband come back?" he whispered, trying to tiptoe around the delicate bubble you were both encased in.

You exhaled through your nose, using your forearms on his chest to prop yourself up. He grunted lightly, but didn't move you. The necklace you'd kept on fell atop his collarbone, a bit of the chain pooling around the heart and ring. Staring at it, you murmured, "Three weeks. Maybe four."

This was the part you were used to. The part you had been dreading without realizing it. The part where he left. Now the bubble had popped.

Sitting up, you pulled your knees to your chest, letting his arm around you fall like a leaf in autumn down to the mess of sheets. Billy joined you, lips pressing to your shoulder. His hand settled against your waist, and you wished you could fasten it there permanently.

Your eyelashes touched your cheek. "How long are you in town?"

He paused, fingers stroking up and down. "Three weeks. Maybe four."

Silence.

The world stood still, the clock's hands pausing their torturous ticking. You turned to face him, saw the look in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know.

The clouds were pink outside your window, giving him a halo you would have crafted and crammed over his shape years ago if it would have made him stay. Your hand found his, fingers twisting around each other like vines over a garden wall.

He kissed your temple. You squeezed his palm so he'd linger.

Dusk. A house empty save for the two of you. His boots discarded a few feet away, and you delightfully bare and lazily stretched over the blanket he'd laid on the floor in front of the roaring fire. You were drawing hearts on his stomach, and he wished your finger were a pen, the ink permanent.

Time had sailed by, cruel in passing as it always was. He tried to rein it in, tried to slow everything down for himself, for you.

The hours were sun-drunk, blissful blinks of an eye that were filled with love, pure light and happiness that he wanted to bottle. You passed the days in his arms mostly, always touching him in some way. The two of you took long walks in the nearby woods, went on rides where he insisted on taking only one horse so he could still hold you.

It was a doomed narrative. He could feel it in every touch, every kiss, every lingering semblance of love. But he didn't dare comment on it, not wanting to break the spell. For now, he had his girl in his arms and that was all that mattered.

You slid your hand up his chest, rubbing him lightly over his heart. Sometime within the first week, you'd removed his ring from the chain around your neck and put it on your left hand, abandoning the other in a dresser drawer. It filled him with a sense of pride seeing it there. And in glimpses he was able to pretend you were his. His wife.

When you spun around in the sunset, your silhouette usurping into the half shadow of the moon beginning to make an appearance, you were his wife. You were his wife when you kissed the space between his thumb and index finger because you liked the way it felt. In the bath you were his wife with strands of hair sticking to your chest and shoulders as he held you, your wet skin sliding against his, porcelain cool against his back.

He kissed you in shadows still, the curtains of the window hiding your secret from the world. He kissed you under starlight, your eyes glimmering brighter than anything he could see in the sky. There were a million things to explore that the sands of time had given you, things that he felt under his hands, along the curve of your waist and the weight of your breasts. You were a treasure, through and through.

The hours became thin like spun glass, the crystallite workings of a snowflake melting rapidly under his warm touch. He would freeze his hands to extend the time. There had never been a time in his life he felt so freely happy. It was always reaching through the bars with you, able to grasp each other for a second before being forced apart.

The workings of this house were intricate, richer than most places Billy had graced. The carpet beneath your head was plush, ornate detailing in the pattern. He lifted his eyes from your face, staring at the oak chest of drawers in his line of vision. Silvery trinkets that looked as though they were from far off places were littered across the surface, a single framed photograph in their midst.

He'd studied it further in the moments when you were upstairs putting your boots on, or just in the kitchen, putting a pot on the stove while he built a fire. The shadowy picture depicted you in a white dress, a bundle of flowers clasped in your hands. The man beside you was solemn, his eyes cold even through the bounds of a moment trapped in a frame.

Trying to ignore the pangs of something he didn't want to confront, Billy had been tempted to turn it face down. It was like a monument to his failure.

As he looked down at you now, it was clear that you had the best of everything, except for love. Your husband had left you starved for affection, and Billy tried to pay the other man's debts with interest. But Billy's own love was imperfect, the consequences of his actions clear.

He'd reminded you that you loved him. And it was going to ruin your life. Rubbing his hand over your back, he murmured, "I'll have to leave soon. Before he comes back."

Lifting your head, you pressed a soft kiss over his heart, meeting his eyes. He felt as though he was looking at a doe, beautifully belonging in the bed of this moment. But the ecstasy of a few minutes ago was replaced with a weight he wanted to carry across his shoulders without ever knowing what it was, a cross of unbearable magnitude.

You searched his eyes, brow knitting in a way he wanted to unravel. When you spoke, your voice was soft as the coo of a mourning dove. "I want to come with you."

"No." His response was immediate, and he was upset at himself even quicker. Your face fell like an avalanche, and he felt a stab of guilt in his heart, a knife he never wanted to yield. The warmth of you sprawled across his chest was removed when you sat up, and a cloud settled over the room.

You pulled your legs to your chest, eyes falling to the edge of the blanket underneath you. Hair tumbling over your shoulders, you breathed in. Billy could practically hear the tears pricking your eyes.

He reached a hand out to cover yours on your knee, rubbing your knuckle with his thumb. "Baby...I-"

"So that's it?" Your tone was bruised. "You're just going to leave again?"

Billy's shoulders slumped, and he reached out for you. "Sweetheart, c'mere.-"

You turned to face him, and every thought was swept away from his mind. Even on the verge of tears you were beautiful, a vision he couldn't have possibly invented. Looking up into his eyes, your bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. "Why can't I come with you?"

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. A love as beautiful as yours was supposed to be for all time, not hidden away like a dusty relic. It was not supposed to be forbidden. Billy sighed through his nose, holding your eyes with his bright blue stare. "Baby...I can't put you through that kinda life. You don't deserve to get hurt."

"You're hurting me now," you breathed, smoothing your hair back with your hands and taking in deep breaths, trying to calm down. "I...I..."

He could practically see your heart pounding through your chest, your breathing cutting itself short. "Honey-"

"No!" You stood abruptly, reaching for the nearest article of clothing, which happened to be his shirt. Throwing it over your body, you began to pace like a caged animal. All he could do was watch as one of your hands covered your mouth. You were gathering words like berries in a basket. "All these years...I've been waiting for you without realizing it...and you won't even let me come with... I want to!"

"I know." Billy sat all the way up, reaching for his underwear. "I know you do."

"Then why-?"

"What if I died out there?" he burst out, standing up and taking you by the arms. "What if I died and you were dependin' on me...what if we were married? I couldn't stand to leave you a widow."

"I'd be just as devastated if you died tomorrow as if you died as my husband." Your eyes were firm, unmoving in their emotion.

"And I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt because of the stupid things I get myself into." His voice was harsher than he meant as he gripped your arms. When your eyes widened, he tried a quieter tone. "You'll stay here, and you'll stay safe."

"What if I was pregnant?" you asked desperately, and he could see the tears springing to your eyes like rain in the spring. "After all we've done-"

"Then you both would be safe." The words nearly physically hurt coming out of his mouth. It was quiet for a moment, and he had time to regret what he'd just said. That moment never came. You were his north star, and yet he'd never felt more lost.

Taking in shallow breaths, you reached for him, taking his face in your hands and leaning in, pressing your lips to his. Then again. And again. "Please." Kiss. "Don't...do this..." Kiss. "I love you, isn't that enough?"

His eyes stayed open, the gravity in yours weighing him down more by the minute. You grasped his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.. "We love each other, that's enough." You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself too.

The silence cut deep. Billy searched for something to say but everything went still before he could form the words. He wanted to reassure you, to take you in his arms and kiss you tenderly and tell you that you were right.

But you both knew it. Love isn’t always enough.

You straightened between his hands, lifting your chin and searching his eyes, trying to decode something he hadn't been aware was locked. That had always been your forte- unearthing the secrets within him when he thought he'd given you every part of him. Once again, he was lost in the boundless space of your beauty, transfixed by every movement. Removing one of his hands from your arm, you held it between you, eyes never leaving his.

"I'd rather be unsafe and happy."

As Billy stared at you, saw how determined you were, how steadfast and boundless the love you possessed was, he was almost convinced. The moment of fear and doubt was held at bay, taunting him from afar, but he thought maybe it would never reach him. What you and him had was beyond special, it was legendary. It was a folklore the best of writers couldn't fathom to pen, something the stars weren't bold enough to know. A future bloomed before his eyes, one where you could finally be together, the restraints cut and abandoned. It was golden, it was limitless.

But then the moment pushed its way to shore. And the fleeting hope slipped through his fingers.

Underneath your legs the grass was dry, prickly to the touch. The point of your toe brushed his ankle over his boot, both feet leaning toward each other. Billy's arms were bent at the elbow, sheathing you against his chest. When you whispered your eyes were closed, one cheek pressed into him, but you could imagine the look on his face. It was one you never wanted to see.

"Will you leave before I wake up?"

His fingers began to rove up and down your back and his nose shifted in your hair, the soft press of his lips chinking another crack into your heart. Just another thing to miss.

Yesterday Billy told you he would leave the day after today. Yesterday you fought and cried and begged and clung to his shirt, your tear-soaked face turned to him like a sunflower to the nearest star. Yesterday he let you yell at him until your voice went raspy, gathering you into his arms when you finally reached for him. Today he was still holding on, as if he were repenting for some future sin.

Opening your eyes and peeking up at him, you murmured, "Please?"

Billy's eyes were tender, and he stroked your hair, chin bobbing. You didn't need to read his mind to know what he was thinking right now. The last time he'd left, he'd done it the exact same way. But last time it wasn't your choice.

He moved you, sitting up straighter against the tree, shirt only catching a little on the bark. Accommodating him, you were sideways across his lap now, legs bent so your feet were tucked under his knees. Holding you right against him with a hand on your shoulder, Billy began to rock back and forth. It was so soft when he said it that you almost thought it was a voice inside your head. "Of course."

You buried your face in his neck, mouth brushing his shirt collar. Maybe his scent would imprint on you, seep into your sleeping hours for the rest of time. It was as though you were grasping at someone turning into a ghost before your eyes. He was fading before your eyes, and you clung to the mirage as long as you could. He was yours. In this moment he was only yours. Holding him was like trying to hold air.

There were novels you could have written full of everything you wanted to tell him. But silence held your tongue, and you regretted it more with every minute. This was the end, a plunge into darkness and you could hardly speak to him, every attempted word stillborn. The walk back home was quiet as death, but you squeezed his hand the whole way.

The sun was peeking over the hills with rosy fingers when he got out of bed the next morning. He tried to be quiet. It wasn't his fault you woke, body wary of his presence, missing him before you did.

You stayed still as he dressed, the soft sounds of his footsteps piercing the early quiet. Still bare from last night, you laid with the sheet draped over your back, pretending he was still touching you the way he had mere hours ago, kissing you fervently.

When he leaned down, breath warm on your cheek for a final kiss, you gave up your act, springing up and flinging your arms around his neck. Breasts pressing into the material of his shirt, you held fast, sure he wouldn't leave if you never let go.

Billy let out a surprised breath, hands smoothing over your back. "Baby...s'posed to be asleep..."

"Don't go," you sniffled, stifling a tiny cry. More tears. And you'd thought you cried yourself dry.

"Shh," Billy soothed, rubbing your back. "You gotta go back to sleep my love. Go back to sleep."

Shaking your head vigorously and hiding in his neck, you whimpered, "No."

"'m not leavin' until you fall asleep again," he whispered into your hair.

"Then I'll never fall asleep again."

His hand found your head. "Scoot over. C'mon. Atta girl." Getting in beside you, Billy laid his head on your pillow, pulling you taut into his chest. Dragging the cast-aside blanket over your shoulders, he tucked your head under his chin and smoothed your spine with his fingers.

You knew what he was doing. This was his swan song, his final act of love. And as much as you fought it, your eyes were growing heavy, his motions pushing you right back into unconsciousness. He breathed, "I love you. Always will."

"I love you." It wasn't the way you wanted to tell him. Your words were pushed together as if you'd had too many drinks. But he smiled into your hair, let his lips linger there for a long time. It was the last thing you were aware of before slipping under, your dreams full of dread.

Every corner of your mind was darkened, abstract shapes rising from the darkness to scare you out of a place you couldn't escape. Every color stabbed at you, made a swipe for your sanity. Eyes flying open in a motion of panic, you heard a door shut downstairs.

Sitting up rapidly, you found the bed cold, empty. But someone was here. He hadn't left, that had only been a dream. Billy was downstairs right now, about to climb the stairs and come to you again. You leapt out of bed, finding your chemise on the ground and yanking it over your head. Determined not to wait a single second longer for him, you nearly tripped opening the door and flying down the stairs, eyes bright as you prepared to greet-

Your husband.

His brow furrowed as he set his travel bag down, looking you up and down. Your smile dropped like a fallen pin, eyes widening. Unconsciously you hid your left hand behind your back. No no no. Panic slithered into your chest and made a home, your body realizing it before you did. Tears spilled from your eyes, dripping down your cheeks before you could regulate them, and your knees met the floor.

To his credit, he came to you, arms finding their way around your body and reeling you in. There was dust from the desert powdering his clothes and staining both your skin and chemise. His hands were stiff against your back.

Billy lazily dragged a hand up your side, his eyes full of starlight. "My girl."

A choked sob escaped your lips as Billy's outline cracked, what was once reality losing its color until it was as stiff and unfeeling as the wedding picture on the front table.

#AHHH LITERALLY SO GOOD #i cannot articulate enough how perfect this is and how well it fits the whole illicit affairs situation #UGH SO GOOD #10000000000000000/10 #ABSOLUTELY RECOMMEND

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daceydeath · 5 months ago

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Fucking hell let me breathe Renae 🥵🥵🥵

MIRROR

Pairing: Changbin x female reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, over stimulation, sexual intercourse, body dysmorphia, low self esteem Swearing there is a tone of adult content in this fic please be cautious.

Summary:Struggling with self-hatred was something you had mastered over the years, but everything changed when you met Changbin. His presence sparked a flicker of hope that someone might actually love you. One day, as you stood in front of the mirror, lost in an all-too-familiar spiral of self-doubt, Changbin walked in on you as you criticized your body.

"Look at you", he says, sliding his hand along your side, brushing so lightly along your hip, stopping right as his fingertips touch the side of your breasts.

Your gaze is fixed ahead, reflecting at you in the expansive surface of a full-length mirror. You study your reflection intently, the question lingering in the air, “How could you ever believe I am ashamed of you?” He tilts his head slightly, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he tenderly places soft kisses along the delicate curve behind your ears, each touch filled with affection and reassurance.

He hesitates, allowing a moment of silence to hang between them, his curiosity piqued by the unspoken question in his mind. "My wife," he murmurs, pressing gentle kisses along the delicate curve of your shoulder blades, his lips warm against your skin. "My beautiful... intelligent... wife," he continues, his fingers gliding down the smooth surface of your stomach, pausing just above the gentle rise of your pelvic bone. "I want you to see yourself the way I see you," he whispers, his voice low and tender as he places another kiss on your shoulder, a promise woven into each touch.

It has always perplexed you how someone like you could end up with a man as soft and undeniably attractive as Changbin. From the first moment you looked at him, his warm smile and twinkling eyes drew you in like a moth to a flame. When you finally mustered the courage to bring him home to meet your mother, the look on her face was priceless—her eyes widened in disbelief. For a moment, you feared she might faint out of shock at the delightful presence standing before her.

The day he proposed was another whirlwind of emotions. You were convinced he had utterly lost his mind as he knelt, ring in hand. The words slipped from his lips, and you spent a good moment in stunned silence, trying to wrap your head around the reality of what was happening. And now, here you are, standing in the middle of your bedroom, utterly exposed and vulnerable—physically naked before him, but even more so before your insecurities.

As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, the person looking back is both familiar and foreign, abstract and concrete. The room is tinged with a sense of longing and desire, and yet, there is an unsettling tension as you confront your worst enemy: your self-doubt. His fingertips graze your skin with such gentle grace, igniting a thrilling spark that sends shivers racing down your spine. How he brushes against you feels electric, an irresistible dance of sensation that enhances every nerve ending. The air is thick with an intoxicating blend of passion and vulnerability, and you can't help but feel alive, your skin sizzling under his delicate yet fervent touch.

"Come on, just tell me, y/n... what was it you were saying before I cut you off?" Changbin's fingers gently trace circles on your stomach, his gaze locked onto yours, filled with a teasing intensity.

You feel a flutter of nerves at his touch, stuttering out a response, "I-I wasn't saying anything." But the shiver that runs through you betrays your words, hinting at the tension hanging in the air between you two.

"It didn't sound like nothing", Bringing his hand back up to just under your breast. "I hate that you think I'm ashamed of you…of this beautiful body." Cupping your breast in his hand, he begins to tease your nipple.

"I'm S-sorry", you breathe. "I didn't mean for you to overhear that", you continue as you bite your bottom lip.

"I'm going to show you…..what exactly about you I am absolutely crazy for?" Bringing his fingers to your mouth. "I want you to watch as I fuck you….can you do that?" His fingers now circled your throbbing clit. Changbin had this way of making you completely forget about the world. Nodding your head, you begin to relax against his chest.

"Look at the way your body fits me so perfectly" his lips are pressed against your ear. "Spread your legs a little more for me" he kisses your ear, rowing as he says it, allowing his fingers access to enter you. "Look how wet you get for me….I fucking love it", pumping two fingers inside you as his other hand massages your breast. Your hips not being able to help but grind against his clothes crotch.

Your mouth parts slightly as you let out a small moan "The sounds you make are like music to my ears", he begins to kiss down your neck.

"Bin….please", you moan as he pinches your nipple. Bending your body down just enough for Changbin to palm your clit “shit", you grunt as you can feel yourself tipping over the edge.

"Y/n", he growled, your head flicking up to see your reflection in the mirror. "I want you to see how beautiful you look coming undone around my fingers", rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he hits the perfect spot with his fingers. The edge of bliss reaches closer as his other hand traces along your lower stomach, and his fingers continue to dip inside you.

Watching Changbin finger fuck you in the full-length mirror is one of the hottest things to happen to you. A shiver washes over your body as you get ready to release all over his fingers.

Just as you are about to reach your climax, his fingers slide out of your clenching pussy. "Spread your legs wider and lean forward", the tone in his voice flipping into seriousness; you spread your legs wider, arching your body forward as you hear his pants unzipping. Licking your lips with anticipation, he glances up to look at you in the mirror, "I can't believe your mine", he says, slapping his dick on each thigh.

You feel his tip brush against your entrance, moving slowly at first before pushing in. His grip on your hips tightens as he thrusts harder and faster, his moans becoming louder with each thrust. You feel your body shake in pleasure as you reach an intense orgasm. He follows soon after, his body trembling as he releases his load inside of you.

“Listen to me,” he says, wrapping his hands around your throat and pulling your body up against his “The next time you feel ashamed”, his lips pressed to your ear “, I want you to think about my come, dripping out of your freshly fucked cunt….do I make myself clear.”

Taglist: @daceydeath @krishastumblernow @bakedlilgoonie @armystay89 @cakeracha

#holy fucking shit #I'm insecure too Changbin so me next!#i want him carnally #Renae you are my queen #like 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵#absolutely recommend #get on it people!#read this damn fic #seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #changbin fanfic #seo changbin smut #straykids changbin #seo changbin #straykids smut

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