Lmao Rewatching Season1 Rn And Tell Me Why Nobody Discusses The Fact That Jackie Lost Her Virginity To

nurturing — billy the kid

pairing: billy bonney x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, death, trauma, sickness, established relationship, reader is also a gunslinger, Y/N usage, standard billy the kid warnings.

authors note: yes i love this man so bad. him in billy the kid deadass altered my brain chemistry lmao. this fic is based off of this request— please, continue to send me your ideas and whatnot, i love reading them! i hope you enjoy <3

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When you woke up, that unusual ringing in your ears, that pounding in your head, and the scratchiness of your throat—you knew you had fallen ill. One of the boys in the gang, or hell, maybe even someone you had came across had given you something—you didn’t really want to know.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you pulled the covers closer to you, attempting to sleep away the sickness. You didn’t want to get up to go to the doctors nor did you have enough money to even pay one. So you did what you do best—ignoring the problem completely.

You fell back asleep easily, sleeping the day and night away completely. When your eyes first fluttered open due to the sunlight intruding on your slumber, you thought you were free from the confines of your illness, but you were mistaken.

The second you sat up, all symptoms that were now arguably worse returned within an instant, causing you to get dizzy. You crashed back down instantly, a whine leaving your lips. Your muscles ached from staying in bed all day, and you wanted a damn drink—a real one. And you wanted to see your cowboy.. so bad. But with the pounding in your head feeling just as powerful as your heartbeat, the thought of even moving made you want to throw up.

And it did—you wanted to cry as you were forced to rush to the trash can in the corner. After 5 minutes of throwing up, your stomach finally relented. You carried yourself back over to your bed, the exhaustion taking over once again.

Hours later, a soft yet powerful knock on your door woke you up with a jump. Your eyebrows knitted as you heard the knocks only get louder. Now alert and awake, you slowly reached for your gun-belt that was neatly rested on your bedside table, grabbing your loaded pistol and cocking it. You used the pistol to slightly lift up the curtain to your window—it was raining, and it was night.

No one good could be paying you a visit at this hour.

You crept over to the door, the knocks only increasing in volume. You slowly turned the handle, your gun tightly in your grip—finger ghosting over the trigger. Adrenaline and anxiety coursed through your veins, you didn’t even feel sick anymore.

The door creaked open, and you pointed the pistol at whoever was out there before you revealed your form.

“Jesus, lady.” Billy’s soft laugh hit your ears, making you lower the gun instantly, placing it on the table by the door. “Stayin’ ready, huh?”

A heavy sigh of relief left your lips as you silently walked into his arms, your head resting on his shoulder as your headache began to form again. His arms wrapped around you quickly, the tip of his hat hitting your head when he leaned down to leave a kiss on your hair.

“You alright, honey?” He whispered, still holding you. “Been wonderin’ where you were. Supposed to meet me at the stables earlier.”

You sighed, completely forgetting your plans with the man. “I’m sorry, Billy,” Your hoarse voice whispered. “I’m sick, I been asleep all day.”

His eyebrows knitted together in concern immediately, as he pushed you off his shoulder to cradle your face in his hands gently. “How bad is it?”

“Just feel like shit,” You chuckled, sending a smile to his face. “I’m okay, Billy.”

His eyes clouded with worry. “C’mon, let’s get you in— away from this storm before it gets you sicker.” He ushered you in. “You seen a doctor yet?” He asked.

“Nah, I didn’t think it would get worse, plus it’s not like I got the money to pay one. Tried to sleep it off, I felt too bad yesterday to get out of bed at all.” You responded as you went to lay down. He tucked your gun back into its holster, before he went to refill your water.

He came back a moment later, a glass of water and a wet rag in hand.

“Thank you,” You whispered as you took a sip, as he placed the wet rag on the back of your neck.

He hummed back to you, laying down next you once you put the water aside, bringing you into his arms.

“You gotta tell me when you’re sick, darlin’.” He whispered to you in the moon lit room. “Can’t lose you to somethin’ like that. Happened to me too many times.”

“I’m sorry, Billy.. I— I don’t mean to worry you.” You said, looking up at him.

“You don’t gotta apologize, baby, just tell me next time so I can come take care of you, y’know?” He smiled, a lovey smile on his lips as he bent down to leave a kiss on your nose. “What can of man would I be if I left my woman to lay sick alone?” He pinched your side slightly, a giggle escaping your lips.

“I reckon you’d be a regular ole’ cowboy.” You joked.

“Well, luckily for you, I happen to be an outlaw.” He chuckled as he leaned down to kiss you—but your finger pressed into his lips stopped him. He looked at you, offended.

“I don’t want to get you sick,” You told him, your smile now more teasing.

“I don’t give a damn about some cold, baby.” He pushed your hand out the way, pressing his lips against yours in an instant, the man kissing you passionately—as if you possessed the air he so very needed. He pulled back, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. “Haven’t seen you in days, missed the feelin’ of your lips.” He muttered against your lips before connecting them again, his words sending shivers down your spine, your arms wrapping around his neck.

You felt comfort in the fact that you’d always have your outlaw to be there to make you feel better, no matter what.

He can I request dialogue 2 with Travis where reader is getting all sappy and shit when they settle into the cabin

🧡Cabin Fever - Travis Martinez x fem!Reader🧡

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: a quiet conversation at the lake...

Warnings: Convo about Periods, hurt + comfort

Word Count: 1,122

A/N: Hello Loves! I know a handful of you have wanted this, so here he is! Travis is actually a lot harder than I anticipated to write, but that could be because I'm not the greatest at writing men/boys. This turned out a lot angstier than intended, but I think we can all appreciate quality hurt/comfort now and then. Unfortunately though, pretty much all of my Travis requests have quite a hefty amount of angst in them. But that's all I'll say, so As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! 🧡

Travis Martinez Tag List: @candylandy8173 @elliesjoints @nebulaemo

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

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It had only been a week, maybe more or less, and you were sick of the cabin. It had quickly grown overcrowded and overstimulating, so you now found every opportunity you could to leave and be outside for as long as possible. It had become commonplace for you to wander all day and not come back till nightfall. Today, however, you'd found some peace at the lake. It started as a trip to get more water for back at the cabin, only to turn into an impromptu bath and swim. You'd grown desperate for some semblance of feeling clean again. But now you'd finished and were drying off on the shore.

“You’ve been gone all day,” a rough voice said behind you, though you didn’t turn. You only shrugged, arms wrapped around your knees as the waterline lapped at the rocky terrain under you and your toes. You hadn’t felt like putting your shoes back on just yet.

“It's getting crowded over there. I need to clear my head sometimes” you mumbled, eyes transfixed on a particularly shiny stone near your feet. Travis didn’t sit beside you, choosing to stand with his hands in his pockets.

“Mind bringing me along when you get away next time?” he asked. You chuckled.

“Is all the period talk getting to be too much for you?” you looked up at him, tilting your head and covering your eyes with your hand to keep the sun away. You were starting to regret not bringing those sunglasses your mother suggested.

“What, you on it too?” he griped. After a pause, you let out a snorting laugh at him. It had your stomach churning and you had to lie down on your back, arm covering your eyes as you grinned.

“Hey, better get used to it, T-man. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a minute before we get out of here,” you heard the stones beside you shuffle as he took a seat.

“I don’t hope that’s not the case,” he mumbled. You peeked out from under your arm to get a good look at him. He looked tired and out of it. You knew Travis well. You used to play little league soccer together when you were 6. His dad had been the coach then too. Honestly, that had been the only reason you played soccer now in high school. You lost some of that relationship with him over time. It was strange, his sudden interest in you. You always thought he kind of resented you for whatever reason. He’d grown up a lot though, you noted.

“Why? Can't stand being the only man with a bunch of women? Isn't that like, every guy's dream?” you hummed, covering your eyes again. You heard him scoff and shuffle his feet on the rocks.

“Yeah, maybe, but they haven't considered what comes with being around a bunch of girls,”

“What? Travis can’t handle a little girl talk?” you teased. He sighed heavily, grumbling under his breath.

“Maybe not constant girl talk, no,” you chuckled at that some and decided to sit up again. “is that why you always leave?”

“What? Because of girl talk?” he nodded. You shook your head. “No, I'm used to it. It's just locker room stuff at this point,” Travis wrinkled his nose and grimaced.

“You talk about your periods and stuff together?” he seemed quite surprised. Your brows raised and you nodded.

“I mean, what did you think we talked about?” you could see the formings of an embarrassed blush heat the apples of his cheeks.

“I dunno, I thought you talked about boys or something. Like magazines maybe, I dunno,” you began to laugh again.

“I mean, sure, we do, but that's not all we talk about,” he continued to frown and looked away, piercing his lips.

“Whatever. I just didn’t think I’d have to hear so much about it,” he grumbled. You laughed again, looking out onto the lake with a lackluster smile.

“You sound like your dad, you know that?” you said without putting any thought behind it. Upon realizing you felt yourself cringe, sucking in a breath between your teeth. You expected Travis to throw himself into a rage, scream at you to shut the fuck up, and not mention his father, now dead a buried by the crash sight which felt long forgotten by now. But he didn’t. He stayed quiet, staring down at his shoes with a crease in his brow and a frown on his lips.

“ugh, don’t remind me,” was all he managed to say through fumbling teeth. You began to apologize but he shook his head, his eyes turning up and looking at you. “Don’t. It’s fine,” his voice faltered, letting you know that it wasn’t fine. But you weren't going to press any more than you had already. He went quiet again and you chewed at your lip.

“You know, he was a pretty shit dad,” he said eventually, his eyes transfixed on the open air of the lake. You watched, keeping your words to yourself. “I’m pretty sure he was cheating on my mom or something. I don’t know though. He wouldn’t fess up to me and no one told me what was happening,” he took a long sniff in, his lip twitching.

“I used to wish he’d just leave. Maybe then Mom would be happy. But now he’s gone, and I just-” he trailed off shaking his head with parted lips. He didn’t go on from there and you couldn't find any words, so you did the only thing you could think of and reached out, your fingertips brushing over his spin. He jumped and you hesitated, but when he looked up to meet your gaze, tears forming in his eyes with a quivering lip you couldn’t help the way your gaze softened.

You reached out your other hand, brushing your fingers over his cheek as you moved forward, hesitantly enveloping him in your arms. His nose and face found the crook where your neck met your shoulder as one of your arms snaked around his shoulder while the other slipped to cradle the back of his neck. He began to quiver in your arms. He wrapped his arms around your shoulder and waist, squeezing tight for as much support as he could get from you. You felt tears run down your shoulder, wetting your shirt as he sniffled and cried. Your fingertips tangled in his growing hair and you breathed him in as tears sting your eyes now.

“It’s gonna be ok…” was all you could muster. If you believed that or not, you didn't know, but it was what you both needed, even if it was only for a moment.

Finished my fanart

Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986) dir. John Hughes

Hi! If you’re still taking requests, could you do a Lottie x reader where she gets a vision of her gf being injured so she stays by her side to protect her?

PAPER CUT

pairing: lottie matthews x reader

word count: 1238

notes and warnings: i did lottie a lil dirty in this one she is the embodiment of my anxiety in this fic. very mild TW for mentions of self harm (its just mentions of lottie cutting her hand to give the wilderness blood like in the show ykyk). also i promise i wasnt on crack writing the end of this w the cookies

It felt like you were being haunted by a second shadow.

You didn’t really mind it. You loved every second you were able to spend with Lottie. But ever since you’d gotten up this morning she’d been extra close to you, following you from room to room, sending you an excessive amount of texts to check on you between the classes you taught at the wellness center.

She had even gone with you to the farmers market, which, due to her great distaste for life outside the compound, tended to be an extremely rare occurrence. Even there she would hardly let you out of her sight, tried to carry everything for you, almost wouldn’t let you drive and volunteered to instead, which you declined. She had been off somehow, all day. Anxious.

She got like that sometimes, you noticed. Whenever she saw something or met someone that reminded her of her time in the wilderness, or her time in Switzerland. There was a need on her end to be close to you, for in solitude was when the memories came. Normally you were fine with it. It was a privilege for you to give her the comfort she desired and needed.

But somehow, you thought that today was different. It wasn’t just a desire to be close to you that had her by your side but something else accompanying it, as if she were worried about you, as if something might happen.

In the car on the way home from the farmer’s market, you’d finally had enough. She had again tried to stop you from driving, saying she was concerned about the traffic, but she had been so erratic all day that you’d seen right through the excuse.

“Lottie,” you sighed, turning the car on and turning out of the parking lot, “what’s going on with you?”

She was silent, and you looked over to see her lost in thought, and you wondered if she had even heard you.

“Lottie,” you said again.

She jumped, as if you had hurriedly woken her from sleep, and she met your gaze with slight alarm.

“Are you okay?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

“I’m fine,” she said, and even gave you a forced half-smile, and you were going to let the matter drop when you saw her tracing the scar on the palm of your hand — you knew what this always led to, the blood, the sacrifice.

You pulled the car over. You knew it was a bit of an overreaction, but the farmer’s market had been in complete chaos and with Lottie’s multiple attempts to keep you from driving, you were nearing your limit.

“Lottie,” you said with all the patience you could muster, “you need to tell me what’s wrong. Please. You’ve been following me like a shadow all day, and while I love your company always, it feels like there’s something else going on. If it involves me, I have to know, and if it doesn’t, I’d still like to know so I can help you.”

She didn’t meet your gaze, just kept tracing the scar on her hand, almost like a child. Until suddenly she did look up, finally meeting your eyes, and you could see the terrible anxiety in her gaze. “The visions came back,” she said simply.

You sighed. You never knew what to say about the visions. Part of you thought it was all in her head, that she needed to see a therapist about it, that they were delusions. But another part of you, a part of you that you tried to subdue, knew there was more to it than that. That something in the wilderness really had called to and captivated those who would listen, and that being had never truly left.

“What did you see?” You asked.

She hesitated, fingering through the slight tangles in her dark hair. “I saw you. And blood. You were cut, I think, I’m not sure. But I didn’t want you to get hurt. I think that’s what it wants, blood.” She looked down at the scar on her hand. “If I can just give it what it wants, maybe…”

You shook your head, taking her hand. “I’m going to be fine. Maybe it wasn’t a vision, maybe it was just a dream, or… I don’t know. But nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m right here. And you don’t need to give it anything.”

“You can’t know for sure,” she said, her tone becoming increasingly ominous. “You haven’t seen what happens when we refuse to give it what it wants, if it feels neglected or suppressed.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The way she described it to you, the hunger of whatever being she believed watched her, was haunting. There was nothing you could have said to convince her that she was wrong, and part of you didn’t really even know if she was.

You took her hand, shaking your head. “Nothing is going to happen, okay? And even if something does happen, we’re prepared now, right?” You turned her hand, gesturing to her scar, which you could tell she had tampered with a little while ago. “Please don’t do this anymore.”

She attempted to protest, but saw the look you gave her, how deep your concern for her ran. She relented, nodding. “I won’t.”

You believed her, or at least as much as you could.

Attempting to lighten the mood, you reached into the backseat, pulling out a small paper bag. “Anyway, while you were going fucking ham on the macrame booth at the market, I got us these,” you said, opening the paper bag to reveal three cookies.

“Shit,” you stopped, ripping your finger away from the bag. The bag had cut your finger, had given you a paper cut. The slightest bit of blood came up out of the cut, coating it, and suddenly it clicked in your mind. “Lottie,” you said, smiling slightly, resisting a laugh. You showed her your finger, and she paused.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, and you could tell the worry she wore was dissipating. “A fucking paper cut… I had a vision of you getting a fucking paper cut.”

“Your third eye needs to chill a bit,” you teased, and she smiled, rubbing her temples. “You okay?”

Lottie nodded, chuckling. “Just give me one of those cookies.”

“I think I should have two of the three. I mean I did bleed for them, so…”

“Well, you wouldn’t have if you had listened to my warning.”

“Split the cookie?”

“What kind are they?” She asked, genuinely invested in the custody of the third cookie.

“Chocolate chip.”

She reached for the cookie. Chocolate chip was her favorite. “I think I deserve the whole thing, then.”

Quickly you took possession of the third cookie, holding it by your head, opening your mouth to take a bite.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Deciding she’d had enough of a rough day as it was, you obliged, splitting the cookie in half and giving her the half that was slightly bigger. “See, you left me alone for a little while and came back to find me with cookies. Everything was fine.”

“Yeah, but if I’d been with you, we would have gotten four cookies and we wouldn’t have had this horrible custody battle.”

“Questioning my cookie buying skills, hm? I hope there’s a paper cut in your future.”

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Taglist: @ladyveela @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @christies-fleur @traumatisedfangirl @goodeday2u @paulsonsratched

( ig ) ( tt ) ( twt )

Miguel o’hara sketch fo today ’ .🔎🖇️

Hello!! I was wonding if you could do a billy the kid request, like Billy and reader are together but people still flirt with reader even if she pregnant and Billy just gets verry possessive and protective pls 🙏

girl yes i already done wrote it lmaooo i love yall and these requests send me more!! <333

it’s posted here!!