#hsr boothill angst

[unabashednightmarepizza]

A/N: I am just starting to play Honkai so if there is anything wrong or that just doesn't make sense, please tell me!

A/N ²: This is me attempting to adopt and protect my babies, wrapping them in cotton and never leaving their side... And I got sleepy at the end, or else I would have written Aventurine and Dan Heng too :( If anyone has ideas for Honkai SAGAU, please do send some asks 👏🏻

Imagine... The Creator!Reader in Honkai verse. You were just idly passing by, to see what your children were doing after the Ones you left in charge... Pretty much usurped your throne.

Imagine the Creator!Reader seeing, witnessing all the deaths and sorrow IPC created...in the name of "economy". Such thing was absurd, why would they do that, slaving and using people for their benefit to make more and more when you gave all the humans and even the Aeons enough source to love in harmony?

Why would they destroy people, families, lives... Planets?

Imagine... Creator!Reader's disappointment as They slump back on their throne. They gave them life, opportunities to overcome their mind's limit and be someone to be remembered... They gave them life sources, water, air, planets to live on, souls to feel and think and passions to find a reason to be alive... And yet, there were some people, the people of your Aeon Qlipoth, who was usualy indifferent, deciding that they were the ones to destroy the harmony and balance you had settled for everyone.

They thought Yours wasn't the final saying, that your word wasn't the absolute

How many more times did they have to go through all of the syages of self-destruction before they finally used their mind and consciousness together? Before they realized your Balance was the most beneficial for everyone?

Imagine... Knowing what would happen, even though pain was a constant part of human life, They didn't want their creation to suffer such a fate. Loosing humanity, everything that made humans humans... Loosing your family and witnessing their deaths right before their eyes, only being seen as the sins someone that wasn't you did and being exiled, pushed aside and running away for not to be hunted and all the reasons for your disappointment... Creator!Reader decides to take the reigns.

First, they go to visit a certain father and daughter duo. They watch from the side as they spend time, caring for the horses, playing guitar and braiding each other's hair. They couldn't help the smile that slowly took over their face, watching with fondness at the innocence of that little toddler... Before their eyes met, and a spark erupted.

From now on, as much as Boothill was first skeptical about them, he accepted to have Them around since his daughter and siblings loved Them so much. The little girl often slept on Them while cuddling, her soul immediately knowing the presence of its creator... Of course They didn't tell them everything, that their lives would be over because of Their greedy creations... And of course, the fact that They were the Allmighty Creator they kept telling tales about.

They loved this little found family a lot, with the human body They crafted to blend in, and soon found Themselves attached. Soon, They found Themselves cooking and cleaning around, running after the children with a toddler attached to their hip as the silent affection between Them and Boothill grew with all the loving and fleeting touches, hugging and cuddling, stargazing at night but never leaving their eyes off of each other...

But an omnipresent being falling in love with their creations was...against the balance... Especially when the day of their death too, came closer, and They were the one who lied, although it was to protect them.

But please, they were the Creator, to Weaver of All Fates, were the measly humans really going to stop Them? Take what was rightfully theirs?

Don't think so.

Before the fall of the planet, when all the equipments of IPC broke and the Path of those who worked under it, alongside Qlipoth's, were taken away for some time... That was when Qlipoth understood that they initially fucked up and angered the Creator. Now, another Aeon who had a head over their shoulders, would probably go nuts with fear and cower at some kind of corner of the universe...

But greed? Greed was often stronger that rationality.

Did any of that shitty behaviour stop? No, not really.

So, it was up to you to save and protect all those traumatised kids... And also make sure that a whole race didn't get wiped out.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

[hotpinkstars]

kinda thinking about how hard it might be on boothill if he ever got u pregnant 😞 // TW PREGNANCY

obviously as we know he's a cyborg. he probably can't get you pregnant in this state but maybe right before he was turned into a cyborg you announced it to him. he was so happy, you both always talked about children but never had the opportunity to have one until then.

a few days later, you heard of his "death," and then found out he was brought back to you as a cyborg. he soon realized that he's all metal now.

he can't feel you.

this posed a huge problem to him. as you grew bigger and bigger, the baby also grew bigger and bigger, and that was his issue. he can't feel when the baby kicks, he can't feel your changing body.

his face and hair are the only parts of his body that he can use to feel things. but he also understands that he cannot always rest his head on your belly. which also makes him rather upset.

and then he feels like he ruined your whole entire pregnancy experience because of his robotic body, and how he spent the majority of it silently mourning over what he couldn't have and not enjoying what he did have.

i wanna write a fic and elaborate abt this does anyone want me to 🤔

[cloudluvrrr]

Went through the seven stages of grief I fear

Anyways who wants more boothill head cannons before his planet blew up <3

[trappolia]

OLD COWBOY’S REPRIEVE — pre-canon!boothill x gn!reader, 543

the light from your shared room casts boothill’s figure in shadows and angles as it streams through the curtains and spills across the covers — in the silence of the bed, you hear the distant bleating of sheep and mooing of cattle somewhere far in the fields. the sound reminds you of a childhood trip to the countryside that you had long forgotten, lost and muddled somewhere in the back burner of your mind, but with this moment and these sounds it comes rushing back to you.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” beside you, your lover’s foul mouth indicates that he is less than pleased to have forgotten to draw the curtains close last night, again. boothill grunts beside you, stirring in bed and burrowing his head underneath the pillow in effort to hide from the sun.

“mhm,” your own bleary eyes blink in the light that filters in through the gaps between the curtains. deciding that yes, it is indeed much too early for it to be so bright, you turn over and away from the window, burying your face in the broad expanse of boothill’s back.

boothill grumbles tiredly, and you — sweet you, darling you, the love of his life and the fire of his loins — just hum. the tension coiled around his wide shoulders eases when he feels your lips press against an old scar on his back, your softer, uncalloused fingers curling along his pec, where the unshaven scruff of chest hair continues to grow.

“c’mere, ya,” boothill rolls over with a shift of the mattress beneath your bodies as you press against him.

your sweet affection towards him in the morning light never ceases to make him weak, and his heart aches from the tenderness of your touch as you press against him, running your hands over his chest while he grunts softly and pushes himself against your hand. he wants to shift closer, push himself against you till he can make a home in the soft warmth of your skin, and the two of you can forever be one entity so he would never have to part from you.

eh, an old cowboy can have his dreams.

you raise your head so boothill can slip his arm underneath, letting his bicep act as a pillow for your soft head. when you do not open your eyes, he nudges you lightly.

“y’ gon’ wake up, toots?” he rasps, voice still groggy from sleep.

“five more minutes,” you groan, which roughly means it’ll be an hour or two before boothill can properly get you out of bed.

boothill sighs as he lets his arms pull you to him completely, your head laying on his bicep now while you remains with your eyes closed. his own head falls back heavily against the pillows, hair cast over the simple linen in a mess of black and white.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply — it is your perfume now that is an irresistible bouquet, the scent of sunshine and something sweet, and boothill relaxes into the embrace he holds you in, closing his eyes as he too lets sleep overcome him.

his chores out in the ranch can wait a lil’ longer.

[vinestaff]

read his story and crode theres a big flood in my house now

[creamyparfait]

Where you’ve disappeared after departing for a mission. (yanqing is platonic, ofc. i just realized i made boothill swear… oh well) 1/?

[pomipomi-mello]

[Robinhill ~ Holding Hands]

❝This is nice… I like this. ❞

❝Yeah. Me too. ❞

[recareels]

take it slow just as fast as i can

character: boothill notes: i just rly, genuinely think boothill would be obsessed with feeling every fucking inch of you, that’s all c: | title credit: body like a back road by sam hunt warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, thinly veiled body worship, mentions of scars + implied stretch marks and cellulite, marking (biting and bruising), implied multiple orgasms, tiny bit of angst right at the end words: 830

boothill knows your body better than he knows anything else in the cosmos. 

boothill knows your body better than he knows his own—better than he knows his scorched, excavated homeland, better than he knows the smooth metal ripples and ridges, cold curves and contours of his own so called ‘body’, better than he knows his cherished 9mm revolver—the ivory grip, pretty pearlescent nacre shimmering up at him delicately from between the gaps of mechanized fingers, stamped with that gilded eagle sigil; the artfully notched cylinder, embossed with decorative arrows—six, one for each chamber—and the angular hammer, piped with shimmering aureate; the golden barrel, intricate inclinations carved to sharp, exquisite perfection. 

boothill knows every curve, every dip, every edge of your form—all of your lines and dimples and scars, and could map them out with his eyes closed and recite each corresponding story: a single metallic fingertip tracing along the jagged strikes of silver etched into your skin; his hard thumbprint pressing into the dents peppering your thighs, a cool knuckle skimming over that scar on your knee. 

and boothill loves appreciating them, appreciating you, appreciating how it all comes together to create one of the most magnificent masterpieces he’s ever had the pleasure of touching, the privilege of loving. 

it’s become somewhat of a ritual now to take his sweet time admiring your figure before he fucks it, feeling every part of you plush and pliant beneath his grooved palms, revelling in the soft gasps that stutter your chest and dainty shivers that ripple your flesh as he kneads it. 

he fills his touch with it, grabs healthy handfuls and squeezes—so soft, so supple—alternating between harsh groping, iron fingers sinking into your thighs, your hips, your tits, and gentle caressing, bullseye gaze watching with sheer wonderment as his palms glide over your silhouette, slick lips parted and damp with panted breath.

sometimes he’ll just let his hand rest on your ribs, observing the way it rises and falls with each of your quiet breaths, feeling oxygen expand your lungs as it flows in, then feeling your chest depress with every exhale pushed up your throat. 

he loves to experience the thrum of your pulse beneath his fingertips—nothing more than a faint fluttering pressure against his receptors, but present nonetheless—an undeniable confirmation that you are indeed here, alive, his. 

so beautiful, he murmurs from between your thighs, one large hand pressed flush against your heart, his chin resting on your stomach. a work of fudgin’ art, baby, I swear to the stars. 

it all gets him going so goddamn easily, instils a hunger in him so ferocious that it chews on his wires, zipping through the cables in sparks of desire until it devours his brain, gorges every thought and notion until all he can conceive, all he needs, is you. 

he can’t help but lick and kiss and bite and suck, desperate to leave his own impermanent marks on this gorgeous canvas. bruises blossom in the shapes of his fingerprints, sprouted in clusters of five across your form. engravings of razored teeth litter your thighs and hips, his gnawing just a hint shy of too strong, leaving behind wide crescents of thirty-two little crimson pinpricks. petals of thick saliva dry hard and stiff on your stomach and neck and collarbone, planted into your skin by puckered lips and chaste kisses.

it’s customary that he murmur sweet nothings into every claim he creates, knowing that his words will seep into your tissues in the form of gentle vibrations, knowing that they will stay, even after his marks fade.

your body is art, too, you tell him softly, after he’s made you cum several times on his cock, iron shimmering with a thick coat of your arousal, slick he refuses to clean off. a tender finger traces along the tears laden across his torso, rough and saw-toothed—scars he refuses to let heal. 

no, he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into your shoulder as he speaks, eyes closing briefly with a slow, deep inhale. not the way yours is. 

your body is a storybook of your life, inscribed with tales and memories—the way your body developed as you entered womanhood, too quick for your delicate skin to keep up with, procuring shimmering streaks across your breasts and bum; the time you flipped your childhood bicycle, kneecaps scraping concrete, bloody and raw; that dark dash seared along your inner arm, a constant reminder of an earnest mistake, when you accidentally nudged the rim of a pot filled with boiling water. 

his body was carved in a lab, too precise to be real, too perfect to be human, constantly torn apart and put back together; rearranged, scrambled, chock full of modifications he never asked for, never agreed to. a true horror story—a weapon of death and destruction, a film of inevitable demise clinging to the metal.

he fears that’s all it ever will be. 

[cherrylovelycherry]

𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises and uh... a éclair au chocolat."

How un.fortunate

pairing. Boothill x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, misunderstood, crying, disappointment, frustration, bittersweet ed, some fluff synopsis. he heard part of the conversation with your friends, exactly a bad part. full menu

"Isn't he cute?" One of your friends, Elisa, blurted out. Who carried a small baby in his arms.

"Oh…yes he is!" You spoke, excitedly, taking his small hands in your fingers.

How you loved babies and children in general.

"Can I carry it too?" You asked this time looking at another of your friends, Laila, who was the little boy's mother.

"Sure! Just be careful with his head and neck."

"Hello little one." You spoke to the baby as you held him in your arms as Laila instructed.

Together with your friends, you had met after so many planned outings, which in one way or another ended up being canceled since one was always busy.

Recently one of them had another child. Of your small group of 4 friends, you were the only one who didn't have children until now.

Even though when you were in your student days, you and your friends said that you would be the first to have children.

How unfortunate.

"Oh…he's so fragile." You commented with a soft and cheerful smile.

"He's too cute!" Elisa commented looking at the baby.

"Yeah. And he cries so much." Laila commented in a tired tone. as she gave a soft yawn, it seemed that she was quite tired of the baby, which she had been looking after all the time.

"What else do you expect? He's little." Elisa spoke.

"Is he very noisy?" You asked, curious.

"He keeps us up all night with his crying, you have no idea." Laila responded.

"Sure it's cute at first," said your friend, Myre, "but when you have to deal with them for real… It's a whole other story."

"Are your children also a hassle to you?" You asked with a slight chuckle and curiosity.

"Nah, I love those little ones with my soul." She said, slowly sitting down in the chair at the table where the four of them were sitting. She had to be careful since she was 7 months pregnant.

Your friends, except for Myre, groaned at this.

"How can you say something like that when you're going to have more children?" Laila asked in a tired tone.

"Haha I do not know." She said, laughing, "And I didn't even want to have children."

They all laughed, commenting on one or another trick to make parenting easier. While you stayed talking to the baby with a soft voice. You rocked him in your arms calmly.

"Oh, and wouldn't it be a good idea to put our children in the same academy, just like we planned when we were younger?—" Elisa's words were cut off by a gentle nudge from Myre.

As if to try to silence her.

"Uh…sorry" Elisa's tone of voice was low and with some embarrassment.

You knew very well that in a certain way they felt sorry for you, refusing to talk about that kind of things in front of you.

You really tried not to let it affect you.

"Oh, no. It's totally fine, girls." You spoke, smiling somewhat embarrassed, keeping your gaze on the baby that you still held in your arms.

The baby began to let out soft cries and to move his little arms. You had no idea why.

"Oh, he must be hungry." Laila said, taking a small bottle of breast milk from the bag she had brought with her.

Putting some hot water in it from another thermos that she also brought.

"Here." She handed it to you.

"Are you sure you want me to do it?" You asked, looking at Laila.

She just smiled and shook her head.

You couldn't help but smile at him in response, as you brought the bottle closer to the baby's little mouth.

Then, the baby started drinking his food from the bottle you were holding.

Your friends smiled in reassurance, understanding that you were fine.

"Dear, I had a question actually…" Myre spoke slowly.

"Go ahead." You responded, curious to know what she would ask.

"What about your boyfriend?"

The question made you a little nervous. You had a small worry on your mind, a worry that you've told no one about. Your head was full of thoughts at that momen, it became a sudden silence in the table.

"Uh…well," You let out an awkward chuckle. "Recently we haven't seen each other much." That was the truth.

Lately you had seen your boyfriend less and there was a reason behind it. Boothill was not one to stay on one planet, as he was a galaxy ranger. But that didn't stop him from deciding to stay on your planet for a long time. I went and came back to be with you.

"Well, not all couples see each other every day." Elisa commented, taking a sip of her hot tea.

You were currently residing on a planet that orbited near Jarilo-VI. Or at least that's what Boothill told you.

"She's right, after all not every couple is the same." Laila commented.

They all remained silent, giving each other slight glances.

Of course it didn't go unnoticed by you.

"…We just want you to be a happy girl, sweetheart."

"Um…what's this all about?" You asked, looking at Myre, who after handing the bottle to Laila, took your hand.

"We're worried about you and your situation." She said, looking into your eyes.

"Why…?" That was all you could come up with.

"Lately you've been quite… Distracted or down." This time Laila spoke, with a worried expression.

It was true, you were sure that you had been acting distant lately, at least for the last two weeks. You didn't want to but they had noticed.

"I'll be honest, you're scaring us, sweety girl." Elisa spoke, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes with them.

"You really don't look happy, dear." Myre, after saying that, squeezed your hand tighter, as if she wanted to give you comfort.

"We care about you, you know."

The others nodded as well, you had a feeling what was going to happen, they were very obvious.

They all cared about you, you had known each other for long time after all. You knew what they were going to say.

"The truth is that we don't know if that cowboy is the best choice for you." Elisa's words made your heart feel a little heavy.

They knew almost perfectly who your boyfriend was. They knew that being more metal than human, it was impossible for you to have children.

"Dear," Laila started to speak, "You've told us time and time again that you want children of your own. And you know that he can't give you children…"

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. That was what hurt the most.

She was right, maybe too right.

How unfortunate.

Your gaze was now positioned on the baby, who was now being carried by Elisa.

How much you longed to be able to hold your own children just as you held your friend's child moments before.

You couldn't stop your eyes from filling with a thin layer of tears.

You looked down at your legs, in an attempt to not let them see your face like that.

You let out a silent sigh.

Of course, you knew it wasn't going to be possible to have a baby with Boothill. He was more made of metal and circuits than a living being.

The only way you could have your own children would be to have them with another human. It didn't matter how hard you tried, there was just no way.

Something you didn't know was that the person your friends were talking about was right around the corner from the cafe where you were.

His happiness at seeing you was suddenly turned off, as if it were a switch.

He had heard what they had been talking about.

He saw your reaction.

You didn't deny anything, nor did you say anything in response to your friends' words. In his eyes, you just lowered your head.

If he had a heart, he would have thought his heart was falling towards his now nonexistent stomach.

The beautiful bouquet of flowers that was going to belong to you was now in an alley, exactly in a garbage container.

…

You took out your key to enter your house, you were tired.

You chose to return on foot.

You inserted the key, unlocking the door lock. Entering calmly.

It was a great surprise to see Boothill there.

He could enter whenever he wanted since you had given him a spare key that you had.

It was good for you that he returned to your planet, you really needed his affection now. You were a little down because of the conversation you had with your friends.

"Hello, love." You said, smiling softly at him.

Your eyes were still a little red from the crying that your friends had to witness and comfort.

You fully entered your house and closed the door behind you, approaching your boyfriend so you can kiss him.

Your lips met briefly. You couldn't help noticing that this time it was a much colder and dry caress than usual. He even seemed a little uncomfortable.

He was expressionless, but you could still see something of disappointment hidden behind his eyes.

"Hey, are you alright?" You asked, in a low voice, stroking his cheek with your hand lovingly.

He moved away from your touch, as if it burned his face.

"How unfortunate, isn't it?" He asked as he looked at you.

How unfortunate? The hell was he talking about…?

You took a step forward in an attempt to be closer to him. But he, in response, just took a step back and away from you.

"Don't touch me with those hands."

Those words hurt like a stab in your heart.

Hands… those hands you tried to use to comfort him, caress him.

His look of disappointment was replaced by a look of frustration.

"What do you mean…?" You asked, confused, with a worried expression.

"Oh, you know…" He said, faking nonchalance.

"You can't make your greatest dream come true with me." His words sounded cold.

Your expression dropped, tears slowly filling your eyes, at that moment you remembered the conversation you had with your friends.

"You hear..?" You asked, in a low, broken voice.

You were trying to compose yourself.

Boothill just responded with a chuckle, that hurt you more.

"It's funny how you try to hide your disappointment and your frustration when you see others living the life you want, but you'll never be able to have."

It was the truth after all. A truth that no matter how much you want to ignore, it hurt you more and more.

You tried to open your mouth to speak, but just a small incoherent sound came out.

"No matter how many nights we've lived together, you'll never bear my children."

It was the cruel truth, a reality that you were aware of, but still you let yourself live that lie.

You wanted so much to have his children.

Yet he couldn't give you what you desired.

You took a deep sigh trying to calm the turmoil of emotions that were going through you.

"Boothill…" You whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking any more than it already had.

His name came out of your lips like a mantra as you were drowning in tears.

"Stop crying." His tone of voice sounded sharper this time, which hurt you even more.

He was acting completely different than usual. He wanted to hurt you?

No, he wanted to get away.

But the pain was too great, tears began to run down your eyes.

"Maybe your friends are right."

"Maybe you should consider looking for someone else."

The tears were falling down your cheeks like a river and your sobs were getting worse.

Those words were so cold that they made your body freeze, your breath came out shaky.

"Please don't say that." You just managed to speak through sobs.

With those words, you walked towards your boyfriend in an attempt to hold him tight and kiss his entire face. To hold him close to your body. But as you were approaching, he just took a step back.

"Just admit it." He muttered in between his teeth.

That filled your head with questions. Admit what?

"Eh?…" You blurted out, giving him a confused look. With your hand you dried the tears that stained your cheeks.

"You also think the same as them."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"You're disappointed, you're frustrated… aren't you?" This time his tone of voice was much calmer, as if he was more tired.

You couldn't respond.

"Say it."

"It's not like that, I'm not—" Your words were interrupted.

Boothill laughed lightly at your denial. "Be honest."

Your brow furrowed slightly. What had he heard then to make him say that?

"You didn't say anything when they told you i wasn't good for you, that you weren't happy."

So he had heard most of the conversation.

But not exactly everything.

"You didn't say anything when they said it was better for you to look for someone else, someone human."

Again you wanted to try to speak but his words were a constant punch to your heart, your body felt heavy.

It was a cruel reality.

You knew that if you stayed with Boothill, you would never be able to have children.

But that didn't matter, it didn't matter to you. You loved him, more than anyone could ever understand.

You loved him, more than your own life.

You didn't want to lose him.

He was the person you wanted by your side for the rest of time.

"I did say something, you didn't fully hear how the conversation went. We can sit down and talk." Your voice rose and fell in pitch as you tried to appease the lump in your throat.

He didn't respond, lowering his gaze to the ground for a moment, as if he was taking the time to think about what he would do next.

"If you're not going to make the decision, I'll help you decide."

He proceed to give you the spare keys to your house.

You stayed still before that, feeling how your eyes were filling with tears again.

Wait, hold on.

"You should search for a human male, someone who can give you what you desire more than anything."

Your body had gone completely tense.

The keys were now gently placed on your palm. Your eyes couldn't process what was happening at the moment. "I'm not going to come back."

As the moment passed and his words and his action were processed in your mind, you slowly managed to raise your face to look at him.

You felt as if at any moment your heart would explode in your chest.

He was going to break up with you. He wanted to break.

Boothill was going to leave you.

"I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill your desire." He started to speak again.

You could hear the disappointment in his words.

"That's it?" You asked through your tears.

That was the last thing he was going to tell you?

Your question was ignored.

"Take care… Darlin'."

In response you didn't manage to say a single word.

You just watched him leave your house.

As you watched the door close, your legs betrayed you and you almost fell to the ground, but managed to hold on to the furniture.

It was impossible for you to contain your tears as they now fell like waves, your breathing became heavy and the sobs were now unbearable.

You had a terrible time that night, that week, that month, that year.

How unfortunate.

"Be careful. Hold on to the ice cream you might drop, dear."

You let out a soft sigh looking at the little girl.

Your little girl.

The little girl was full of energy, you always wondered where she could get so much energy.

You adored her with your life, thanks to her you were able to stop being stuck in that hole of hopelessness in which you were.

You really wonder what things would have been like if you hadn't had the opportunity to raise and care for this little girl.

Currently it has been 6 years since your relationship ended.

Every time you stop to remember what the first 2 years were like, a chill would run down your spine. You basically left yourself abandoned. You weren't living anymore, you just survived. Your dreams of having children faded over time, you decided to give up on that dream.

You could say that it had been a difficult year, with many ups and downs.

At the end of your second year, your friends tried to cheer you up. They tried to get involved with other people, but it was all in vain, in the end they were just people who wanted to take advantage or make use of your body.

So you also chose to stop that. In your mind, you still had hope that one day he would return. However, you saw it as impossible. Because he left, it's not like it was the first time they had disagreements or big misunderstandings.

Quite apart from that, he also noticed your actions, becoming more and more discouraged with the passage of time.

For the third year, one of your friends who worked in a hospital, told you about the most recent crisis she had attended to while she was on duty.

The mother of a girl who was about 1 year old had just died and there were no records of family connections or anything.

So the hospital staff tried to take care of the little girl as much as they could. Since they knew that child care centers were not the best at taking care of children.

You don't really remember how things happened. By the middle of the third year, you were trying to get custody of the girl.

Things turned out well for you, everything happened too fast.

You were more than dedicated to her, going to new parent courses, reading books, watching videos, among other things. It was like the world gave you another chance.

You were finishing ordering your own flavor of ice cream, holding a baby carriage with one of your hands. Yes, you also fought to get the adoption papers for the baby who was barely 9 months old.

"Mom! I dropped it!" Your little girl's small voice shouted, sounding worried and sad.

You finished asking, turning your head towards the scream, sighing and laughing softly. "Leave it there, honey. Come, I'll buy you another one."

She came running again, smiling that she would have another new ice cream.

"This is the last one I bought, be more careful this time." You spoke to her with a somewhat stern voice as you watched her jump with joy, extending her small hands towards the employee who was handing her her new ice cream.

"'Kay!" She let go quickly and ran again in the opposite direction from where you were.

You shook your head as you went back to paying for the ice cream.

The little girl left the games, moving a little away from the initial place where she was. She was a little distracted, walking while happily eating her ice cream.

In one of those, she turned her gaze, opening her small eyes in surprise, now running again in that direction.

He approached a tall man, who seemed to be in his own world at that moment.

With all the daring in the world, the little girl spoke. "You look like my daddy!"

The girl's voice caught the man's attention, looking at her with complete curiosity. "Um…" He looked up, looking around, looking for his parents.

When he didn't find anything, he got a little worried. "Where are your parents?"

The little girl was more than amazed analyzing the man. "My mommy is over there." She said, pointing in the direction she had come from.

Meanwhile, when you finished paying for the ice cream, you looked for your daughter.

Not seeing her nearby, you thought the worst, adrenaline rising through your veins little by little. You started looking for her while shouting her name out loud and asking people near the playground if they had seen her.

You were so scared that your hands were shaking, you had left your freshly bought ice cream on the store counter.

Approximately 5 or 6 minutes passed until in the distance you saw a Little girl running towards you.

A strong sense of relief filled you.

By the time she finished running, coming to stand in front of you, the first thing you did was to bend down and hug her.

“Clementine! You scared me, honey.”

The little girl slipped her arms around you, reciprocating the hug. Then, as if remembering something, she pulled away as she turned her head back.

“Look mommy, that man looks just like daddy.” She spoke, excitedly.

You looked at her in confusion, picking yourself up off the floor, grabbing the baby carriage with one hand again. You looked up, and saw who your daughter meant.

You felt as if all the air in your lungs had disappeared. Your eyes could no longer open.

Your heart was now beating painfully hard in your chest.

Why is…? How…? Is it…? Your mind was a complete chaos of thoughts, all of them racing through your mind and making it feel like it would explode. Your head feels light and you feel dizzy.

You were so shocked that you couldn't even react, not blinking again or being able to move an inch.

You couldn't take your eyes off him. He was there, standing in the distance, looking back at you.

His white hair now tied in a low ponytail. His gaze, piercing and intense, remained the same, just like your memory.

He felt so many things at once. Even how fate came to work at the perfect time for you to name your little girl that name. The same way he named his daughter.

A mixture of surprise and disbelief had taken hold of him, but his body betrayed him.

His body, without even processing in his mind what he was doing, began to approach slowly.

You seemed as if you were frozen in time, he watched you as if no time had passed. Your appearance was almost identical to how he remembered you 6 years ago. The only thing was your hair, which was now short, almost to your shoulders.

"Lil' lady."

Boothill's voice sounded in the small space, watching the young girl turn her gaze towards him.

He held out his hand in front of him, letting the little girl take his fingers. “I'm Boothill, dear. May I know what's your name?”

He introduced himself to her, since moments before he had not had the opportunity to do so.

She looked at him intrigued, squeezing the fingers that held her as she raised her face to speak.

"I'm Clementine!" She replied excitedly, raising her shoulders in an excited gesture.

Your daughter, turned her little head towards you, still holding Boothill's metal hand. "Mommy, he even has a name like daddy!"

No matter how much you tried to formulate words, nothing came out of your mouth.

The child's innocence was endearing.

He just laughed softly, a warm, somewhat nostalgic smile forming on his face. “Yeah, we got the same name.”

The fact that there was a little girl right there who was calling him "daddy" and he had no idea what was going on was a complicated situation. But, he also couldn't help but find it so cute and lovely that he couldn't stop smiling even if he wanted to.

He turned his gaze to you, taking a few seconds before speaking.

"Can we talk?" His tone had a hint of imploration.

You nodded your head weakly in response.

As you did so, you heard your daughter speak again, this time in a more shy and embarrassed manner.

"Dadd— Mr. Boothill!"

"Yes, darlin'?" He tilted his head to the side, focusing his gaze on the girl in front of him again.

"Can you hold me?"

"Clementine!" You reproached her for her question, she didn't even know Boothill well and she was already being open with him. Besides, you didn't want him to get upset about it.

He was a little surprised by such a bold and direct request, but he couldn't say no, of course.

"Hah, sure, why not?"

He had to kneel down to take her gently in his arms.

Seeing your daughter in his arms was one of the most surreal scenes you had ever experienced.

Once he picked her up, she put her arms around his neck, feeling a little safe and comfortable being held in his arms. He gave you a warm smile to reassure you so as not to make you more uneasy than you already seemed.

Although that gesture of his made you even more uneasy. You avoided his gaze, looking at your baby, who was still sleeping peacefully in the stroller.

As you started walking towards your house, you could hear how people nearby whispered as they pointed at the scene.

"He's so tall!" "What a cute girl!" "It looks like it's his dad…"

You bit your tongue lightly, trying to ignore all the sounds.

Looking at his expression, you could tell that he was confused, maybe even a little overwhelmed. The way his eyebrows knitted together and there was a slight frown on his face.

He had that same nervous look on his face as before. He was as bad at hiding his emotions as you.

You remained silent throughout the small stroll of approximately 10 minutes. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn't dare look at him. There was no doubt that a tense aura surrounded you.

You arrived at the front of your somewhat large house. It wasn't the same one you had 6 years ago, you moved because you needed more space for your children.

You unlocked the door, and let him in, he still had Clementine in his arms as the girl had her face hidden in his neck since she had fallen asleep.

Once the door was closed, you looked at her for a moment, a soft tender look filled your features. After you finished observing her, you turned your gaze towards him.

The room had a warm and cozy atmosphere, with a pleasant temperature that made it easier to breathe.

Both you and Boothill stayed quiet for a few seconds before you spoke again.

“Can you lay her down on the couch?”

You told him as you squared your other baby's stroller. Taking him out of this and carefully taking him to his room, so that he could continue sleeping.

He obeyed your request, carefully laying her down. He took a few seconds to take a good look at the child's face.

He noticed how her small chest rose and fell steadily on the surface of the couch’s pillows, letting out small and soft sighs in the process.

By the time you returned to the living room, he was sitting on the couch, frowning a little and deep in thought.

You let out a quiet sigh, trying to mentally prepare yourself for what was coming.

You also sat on the couch, only on one that was almost in front of him.

Seeing you close to him left him breathless.

Now he was able to see you much more closely.

The same bright and unique eyes, the same small and soft lips.

The expression on your face was a mix of nervousness and discomfort.

He remained silent for a couple of seconds, still trying to process everything.

He parted his lips, finally starting to speak.

"You managed—"

"Sorry for—"

You and him literally spoke at the same time.

You immediately became silent for a moment, feeling a little nervous and embarrassed.

A small, almost unintentional chuckle escaped his lips. Despite everything, the situation was somewhat funny and entertaining.

“You go first.”

He spoke in a gentle, almost sweet voice. His gaze remained focused on yours, paying attention to your expression.

You could feel your mouth going dry, the words not wanting to come out of your throat.

You fidgeted a little, feeling somewhat guilty about what you wanted to say.

"Ah, I'm sorry…" A small gasp escaped your lips as you tried to find the right way to say it. "…for the fact that my daughter said you looked like and had the same name as her dad."

You wondered where the security had gone and the many words you had thought and even rehearsed saying to him the first time you saw him again.

“Oh, nah, that's alright."

He chuckled again, sounding somewhat calm and even amused.

Your nervousness only grew as you felt embarrassed. You thought maybe he would get mad or upset.

The room was silent again.

It went like this for a few minutes until he spoke.

"You managed to have children." He said, with some nostalgia.

"Yeah…I managed."

Your voice came out shakier than you originally planned.

You didn't want him to know how nervous you were, you didn't want him to know that your heart was racing a thousand beats a minute and that you were thinking over and over again about so many scenarios, most of them bad.

He seemed to notice your nervousness, even though you tried to hide it.

He gave a reassuring smile before continuing to speak.

"It…surprises and makes me quite happy." He admitted with sincerity.

You only chose to smile at him in response in a somewhat shy manner.

"By the way, your husband won't be upset that I'm here?" he asked.

“Upset? That's an interesting choice of word.”

A slightly sad expression appeared on your face. Your lips curved downward and your eyebrows frowned.

He had misunderstood you.

You didn't know if you should clarify his comment, if you should explain to him or if you should keep quiet.

You sighed, deciding to speak and be honest with the cowboy.

“Boothill…I don't have a husband…”

The cowboy's eyes widened at the sound of the words coming out of your mouth.

He couldn't tell if you were just kidding or if you were saying it seriously. He was really confused.

"Did you divorce?" he asked.

You shook your head. You lowered your gaze, staring at your fingers on your hands that were clasped together.

“That…” You hesitated for a few moments, searching for the right words. “That implies having been married in the first place. I was never married."

You spoke as you raised your head again, looking at him with a small smile.

"…I'm a single mom, Boothill.”

The cowboy was surprised at the news. He expected many possibilities, but he certainly hadn't thought of this one.

After letting this information sink in, he looked at you with a confused expression.

"But your daughter said I looked like her father—"

Despite all the clues you gave him to understand the situation, he still didn't reach the true conclusion.

That gave you some humor, you assumed he would be nervous.

You let out a small laugh, looking away from him for a moment.

"I adopted my two children." You said once you stopped laughing, looking at your daughter, who was still sleeping peacefully on the couch next to you.

"And…maybe I made the mistake of telling Clementine about you."

He was silent for a few moments as he continued to process the information you had just given him.

Oh.

The expression in his eyes changed from one of confusion to one of surprise.

His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly in shock as he seemed unable to form any words.

He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt and guilt at all the conclusions that passed through his mind.

“Wait…”

A few uncomfortable seconds passed before he continued. "Why do you say that?"

"Uhm…" You also took care to organize your words, so that they were direct.

And, before you could answer him, your baby, who was sleeping in his room, started crying. Probably because it was time for him to eat.

You quickly got up from the couch, smiling apologetically at him as you left the living room to enter your other son's room.

He watched as you ran into the room.

The cowboy was so distracted with the news you had told him before leaving that he couldn’t help but hear the whole exchange that was going on in the room next door.

Your voice was low and gentle, almost singing to soothe the baby’s cries.

It was like a rollercoaster of emotions.

He leaned back against the backrest of the couch, covering his face with his free hand.

He had to digest all that had happened.

Not only did you manage to have children, but you never married and on top of that you got custody of two children that you did not give birth to.

After a few minutes, you were able to finish feeding your little baby.

The crying had stopped, leaving him in a calm state.

You were able to leave the baby's room once again. Only this time with your son in your arms since he didn't want to sleep again.

As soon as you reentered the room and saw the cowboy’s position, you laughed internally, letting out a soft sigh.

You sat on the couch, but this time next to him. Placing the baby in your legs.

"Sorry for the delay."

You stayed quiet for a while, watching as your son grabbed your fingers and played with them.

"When she was younger she found a photo of both of us. And well…I had to tell her about the relationship we had." You sounded a little embarrassed, however you were no longer nervous, on the contrary, you were calm.

He dropped his hand from his face and turned to look at you, but you continued to look down at your baby.

He listened to your words for a few seconds, now putting his hand on his chin, pondering the new information you had given him.

"And she thought I was…?"

He wasn’t quite sure how to say it without being too frank, but you had a small smile on your lips, guessing what his words would be.

You nodded your head, looking up at his face and watching his expression change.

His initial surprise soon turned into something else.

Your little girl believed and thought that a cowboy like him was her father.

How cute.

You still remember when you had to tell him about your past relationship. Your daughter was barely 2 years old when she found letters and a photo. Specifically from you and Boothill.

Before her gaze full of curiosity and many questions she asked you, you were transparent with her and told her about what your relationship with him was like.

That afternoon, she began referring to him as her dad.

You, who couldn't imagine that in perhaps other circumstances you could have considered starting a family with him, you let him call him that.

Telling him more things about him, that he didn't always stop on your planet, etc.

You allowed yourself to remember him that way, since over time you managed to stick to his words; "I'm not going to come back."

The room fell silent. Your gaze focused on the baby in your legs, as he held onto your fingers, his gaze locked on Boothill.

"I assumed you would never come back so I let Clementine continue calling you that." Your voice sounded somewhat bitter as you spoke.

He remained silent for a few moments before a small laugh escaped his mouth.

"That explains why she said I looked like her dad." His own words had made it all make sense to him at that moment.

"Yeah…"

You both remained in front of the other in an awkward silence, you didn't really know how to continue the conversation.

Your daughter's words kept replaying in your mind.

“You look like my daddy! “ She said it was as if no time had passed. In your head you couldn't help but think that it felt like 6 years ago, it felt like the first time you met him…

You were so immersed in your thoughts that you felt a shiver run down your spine.

His eyes, watching you so intensely, felt like they were burning you from within.

“Why didn't you get a partner?…” he dared to ask, in a tone of voice you couldn't identify this time.

You didn't expect that question.

"Uh…"

It was the only thing you could articulate, since once again you were at a loss for words.

You avoided his gaze a bit, looking at a random spot on the floor. You didn't know how to answer that, or rather… you didn't know if you wanted to answer.

When you didn't answer, Boothill thought you didn't want to talk to him. He understood he was probably overstepping a line.

"It's okay, you don't have to—"

But he was interrupted by your voice, after finally finding the words that were lost inside your mind.

“Because I was waiting for you." Your voice came out slow. Fragile as a whisper.

You had been waiting for it. Past time.

Again you avoided looking directly at him but you could practically feel his stunned gaze on you.

He hadn't expected that answer. Instead he had expected many excuses.

'I'm not interested in a relationship.' 'I focus on my children and myself.' 'I never found the right person.'

Anything, anything. But not that.

She waited for me…? He thought.

He continued to analyze you with a stunned expression, seeing the state you were in, and then a pang of regret hit him.

He wanted to say many things. He wanted to apologize.

But his own words felt caught in his throat. His mouth parted open a little, but he couldn't say anything. His mind went totally blank.

Faced with his other lack of speech, you chose to go straight to the point this time.

"Why did you come back?" Bitterness and nostalgia.

"…What do you want of me?" Frustration and sorrow.

Those were your emotions that predominated in you at that moment.

What were you looking for? Did he want to leave you in ruins again? You didn't want to feel vulnerable again. Even though now you're feeling that way again.

Those words hit him like a punch in the face.

The frustration and sadness in your voice only made him feel worse about himself, his guilt increased as every word left your mouth.

He couldn't find the words he wanted to say. His mind was a mess, and every time he tried to start speaking. Only some incoherent sounds came out of his mouth. He tried to speak, but his words died in his throat.

His eyes watched you desperately, not knowing what to say. He felt how in those moments he had become a total idiot. A completely lost man.

"I wanted to see if you were okay." His voice also sounded like a whisper, calmly.

Your words sounded almost like reproaches, which they truly were.

There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many questions that you wanted answered but you were holding back. You just couldn't find the words as well.

"I…" He started again, with difficulty.

"I never forgot about you."

At his words, you couldn't help but frown.

"Forget…?"

You were now even more frustrated. Frustrated with him, and even more frustrated with yourself for still feeling this way about him.

"It is unfair." you said, your eyes now filling with tears, you were holding back the urge to let your feelings out.

"After being gone for 6 damn years, you come back and tell me that?…" You refused to look at him, because if you did, everything you had been ignoring, your feelings and sorrows, were coming to the surface.

"It's too unfair…" You felt your vision now blurry and the salty taste of your tears on your lips, which simply came out without delay.

Your baby, who had stopped seeing Boothill, was looking at you, as if sensing your discomfort, grabbing your fingers with his small hands, bringing them to his small face.

The cowboy was beginning to understand your frustration, he was frustrated himself, he felt guilty that after so much time he was back in your life, and that you had to cry because of him.

He could say that you looked more vulnerable than he remembered, with your body shaking as you cried and your voice breaking and filling with frustration, despair and sadness.

You couldn't stop the tears from coming out like a waterfall.

You felt a lump in your throat as you tried to keep yourself from sobbing as much.

Each time you inhaled to take a breath, your exhale became a small broken sob.

You never thought that the reunion would be like this. When you dreamed of his return, it was always a happy dream, a warm and emotional reunion.

But it wasn't, it was the opposite.

The last time he saw you, you were crying, and now that he saw you again, you were crying again.

He brought his hand to you, trying to wipe the tears that were now freely falling from your eyes.

His touch alone sent a small shiver through your body.

You moved backwards away from the touch, shaking your head as if telling him not to do that.

His touch brought you too many memories that you'd tried to bury for a long time.

It made you miss him even more, miss the good times you had when it was just the two of you.

That simple thought caused another sob that escaped from your lips. The tears continued uninterruptedly.

"Please no."

He wanted to hold you, embrace you tightly, wipe away your tears and tell you that he wouldn't leave you again, never again.

But just a minute ago you had tried to keep away from his touch, so the only thing he could do at the moment was to keep his hands to himself.

Seeing you in this state, crying bitterly and being speechless and motionless, made him not want to move from his place. As much as he wanted desperately to hold you, he just stayed there, watching.

"Darlin', I-" He spoke, being totally interrupted by your daughter, who had just woken up.

His words echoed within you, calling you darlin'…

"Mommy? Why are you crying?"

Her small voice cut through the tense, silent atmosphere of the room. Like an oasis in the middle of the desert.

You were surprised, since you hadn't even realized that your baby had woken up, probably because of your small cries.

You turned your head quickly, looking at her as she rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up properly.

You wanted to speak, but all the words seemed to have escaped your brain. The only thing that came out of your mouth was a strangled sigh, trying to calm yourself as you wiped away the tears that continued to fall.

Until you finally managed to answer her, "I'm fine love, don't worry.", with a small, forced smile. Trying to convince her that you were fine, even though your face was red and tearful.

With one hand free, you managed to run your hand over your face, wiping away the traces of tears.

Your little girl's face was troubled as she looked at you.

You let out a sigh, asking her to come closer.

She did and you brushed a small unruly strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Honey, can you take your little brother to your room with you?” your voice to her was always sweet and soft.

“'kay, mommy.”

Despite your still teary eyes, you laughed softly at your daughter's obedience. “What a good girl.” You said in a whisper.

Just as you said, she carefully picked up the baby in your arms and walked with slow steps to her room.

Once she disappeared after closing the door to her room, you covered your mouth with your hand, in an attempt to stop the sobs that arose.

You felt his gaze on you at all times, which made your eyes sting even more. Maybe you should have refused his proposal to talk.

“Please.” At first his voice faltered a bit, being more of a whisper. Almost afraid of being expelled from his mouth.

Suddenly you felt the couch move quickly. By the time you realized it, he was already holding your face.

The metal of his hands made the heat in your cheeks from crying cool down.

With an undaunted look, he spoke again, “Please…”

Oh, if he had a way to cry, he'd be doing it right now.

“…give me 6 more years.” Even though he couldn't feel the warmth emanating from your cheeks, its softness that he only felt when your face and his face collided. He wanted you to feel his touch, soft and caring, like a piece of porcelain.

You stood still, not struggling to release his grip, your eyes focused on his.

He knew he didn't even deserve to make a request, but he wanted to try anyway.

“Give me those years you lost to try to make up for.” Just by looking at him, you could sense that he himself was two words, “please” and “sorry”.

You were terrified by his proposal, you were afraid that a similar situation would happen again. Your brain did its best to reason, while your heart gave itself totally to him, to accept his proposal.

Your mouth opened slightly, looking for words to come out, but nothing came out. Not even sobs. The only ones that came out were tears.

He didn't stop talking, he was letting the feeling that was eating him up inside take over him. “And… if in that time I don't make up for how bad you felt, I'll stop trying.”

He felt like a dog with its tail between its legs. Begging, but in a way more shameful. He was putting his pride aside by giving you this proposal.

And yes, he himself believed that only 6 years was not enough time to be able to ask for forgiveness in appropriate ways.

Your shoulders moved involuntarily and you finally started sobbing again. Even though you wanted to yell at him like you had done in the past on some occasion, you were too overwhelmed to even do that right now.

His words affected you more than you expected.

As much as you struggled to hold on to reasons, your heart longed for his presence every day for the last 6 years.

All the suffering you felt, the tears you shed, and the times you wondered what your relationship was worth to him.

It was painful. Thinking of all those things made your chest ache.

Even in such a delicate conversation, he did not release your face, still holding it tightly in his hands.

He gently wiped away your tears with his thumb for a few minutes, as if he were cleaning a mirror, which was useless and ridiculous, but he didn't care. He hoped to at least make you comfortable. He could tell how hurt you were from the tears, and it shattered his heart into pieces, leaving no trace behind.

He was scared. He was scared that you didn't want him again like before. And he understood you if you didn't.

“Let me try, please.”

You could see a deep regret in his eyes as he caressed your cheeks.

Those feelings.

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to avoid seeing that look on him.

You couldn't think, not when he was touching you that way.

His touch, a feeling that you thought you would feel no more.

You felt your heart contract at his words, his proposal echoed in your mind, repeating itself continuously.

Despite the fact that you didn't give him a direct answer, you made him close his mouth, pressing your body against his.

You really longed for it for so long.

You still weren't entirely sure if his proposal would work, but it was at least worth letting him try. Who knows how things would turn out this time.

He didn't expect your reaction, but when your body was pushed against his, his chest felt so full. He reciprocated quickly, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

He felt like he had you all to himself again. It filled him in a way he couldn't describe.

He closed his eyes gently, burying his face in your neck. The scent of you still hadn't changed, it still felt the same.

He let out a shaky breath, his arms not loosening their grip on you.

Now it only depended on time for things to get better. Time and him.

Maybe he could even really become the father of your little ones. Who knows.

How unfortunate he felt.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n- 3.5k: boothill comes back to you for a tune up, but instead of his body, it's his heart that needs tending to after you scare the hell out of him [minor boothill story spoilers if you're not caught up on that jazz, but nothing major!]

warning(s)!: boothill is implied to have an artificial tech!eye and he takes it out (not descriptive tho!)

the last time boothill saw you, he was in for a cooling agent refill. it was also during that last visit when he saw that you had fixed up the small robot he had picked up on a distant planet and brought back as a gift. with your affinity for tinkering with things, he knew you'd like it. and he wasn't wrong.

it's been a month, maybe, and while that shouldn't be considered a very long time away considering his goal steeped in revenge would eventually require him to be gone for far longer- or even not come back at all- he damn missed you.

that, and the censor inside his eye has been on the fritz and well... if he can't see, he can't exactly shoot straight. he didn't need to be discharging bullets like a psychopath- he's a galaxy ranger, not some low-ringed IPC lacky who's a bit too trigger happy.

luckily, his eye wasn’t so fudged up that he couldn't see at all. the world around him was all blurs if he moves to quickly, but given the time to adjust, he's able to more or less make out what was in front of him. just don’t ask him to read anything... not that he was stellar in that department to begin with. it's like the crosshair infused with his artificial eye was out of focus or something.

boothill knows the path to your shop- that acts also as your home- like the back of his hand. someone could pluck his eye right out of his head, yet he'd still navigate his way to where you are. it was one of the few roads he has taken time and time again. he hope's it'll stay a place he can keep coming back to in health or otherwise.

stepping off his small, single-man ship after landing it near the junkyard you usually dig around in, he stumbles out of it onto the ground with a censored curse. he wishes he could land the thing closer to your shop, but he had once come in with too much a gusto and scorched a section of your lawn. once was all you needed to prohibit him from landing anywhere near the building again.

the walk from junkyard to the shop wasn't a treacherous one, hardly even a workout. still, the back of his neck just at his hair line breaks out into a cold sweat. it isn't brought on by exertion, but by the engraved instinct that something... wasn't right. something in his gut was telling him something was wrong.

boothill's learned to trust his gut.

his leisurely pace picks up to a more urgent gait and he can smell the 'something wrong' before his unfocused eye can try and see it.

it smells like smoke.

his steps falter at the disgustingly familiar scent- the smell that brings back memories he forces himself remember. memories that push him towards his goal of revenge- his goal in finding oswaldo. memories of his ruined home. he swallows thickly but it does nothing for his throat that's sudden too dry.

boothill hated fire. he's hated fire since his original name died with his family... with his daughter. since he chose to become "boothill" altogether he's abhorred fire.

he's familiar with fire. with its destruction. with its color. with its smell and heat and ruthlessness. its lack of mercy and greedy nature to swallow up anything in its path that can scorch.

the billows of smoke he could barely make out once his long, mechanical legs took him running to your shop could only be explained by fire. where was it? was it large? contained? were you inside? were you hurt? the cowboy didn't see any flames from outside, so it must not be that bad yet. you're fine. you're fine. you have to be.

all formality is left at his heels when he barges through your shop's doors. there's not much smoke in front of the shop when he enters.

"y/n! are you in here!" you don't respond to his shouts. "fudge!" god, boothill wishes he could properly curse right now. screw his synthesia beacon to hell.

the dim lights make it harder to navigate the area around him with the addition of his already busted vision, but just like the path leading him here- boothill is familiar with the inside of your home. he could walk it blindfolded and deaf.

boothill follows his nose. the smell of smoke got stronger the further back into the shop he goes. the ranger starts hearing commotion along with his narrowing down of where the fire was coming from.

clanging. some bangs. you're coughing. you're cursing.

boothill pushes open the metal door that leads into the main workshop with his shoulder. the room is always filled with all sorts of scrap metals, wiring, wielding tools, normal tools, and all sorts of other gadgets and knobs that he's sure you keep cluttered in different drawers and corners.

the smoke he saw outside floods the workshop, filtering out through the windows you had thrown open and up the chimney you don't ever use unless you need to melt down metal. the grey, sooty gas lingers high towards the ceiling. wafting around his head as soon as he enters the workshop, causing him to choke on it before his mechanical insides whirl into filtering it all out of his system.

sometimes being mostly robotic had it's perks. not choking to death on smog was always a plus.

"sugar!" he calls that familiar endearment over all the noise you're causing. the normally sweet, yet playful, nickname he's been calling you since he discovered your unbelievable sweet tooth feels sour coming out of his mouth this time. your coughing is muffled, and he can only assume it's because you're covering your mouth with a cloth or something. you better be, he hisses internally to himself.

"boothill?!" your shock is as muffled as your cough. "hold- gahk! son of a- hold on a second!" he can hear you rushing around the shop's concrete floor. "ore, did you get to the switch!" you direct your attention away from the unanticipated arrival of boothill. instead, you steer it towards the aforementioned, small robot you refurbished into new, mech-life. you had named it ore after the piece of unknown gem used as his power source.

small beeps of affirmation filter through the soot and smoke and you cough three more times into the cloth you're holding over your mouth and nose.

"flick it left!" you instruct ore. another set of beeps before the shop is bombarded with a force that's almost enough to knock boothill off his feet. the smoke was gathered quickly into a vacuum of air that soon collected all of it up then sequency shot it up and out the of chimney.

the room was basically clear now. all that's left after ore flips the switch back to the right to halt at vacuum assault is the mist of remnants that would soon find their way out the windows you intend to keep open for a good, long while.

you lower the rag from your mouth that had been used to keep smoke from invading your lungs and grimace at it. you had been previously using that rag to wipe oil from a machine you were working on. the very same machine that you had kicked a bit too roughly, causing some faulty wiring inside to shift and ignite. that bucket of broken bits was what led to this predicament in the first place!

finally, you look towards boothill. you hardly get a chance to acknowledge him properly since the moment you turn towards the doors he had come through; he was already at you.

crossing the room with urgent, quick strides, his metal arms clad in his cropped jacket and hanging red scarf wrap around your shoulders. one of his hands push against the back of your head and he doesn't care if the threads of your hair tangle into the groves of his fingers. his chin drips to rest his cheek against your crown.

his head dips so low, cheek and face pushing against your head so closely that the brim of his cowboy hat dents against your skull before falling off to the floor. it falls upside down with a soft thwomp and he can't seem to care.

"hey," you whisper in shock as you curl your arms upwards, bringing your hands to rest concerningly against his shoulders. his scarf was soft against your palm. your fingers thread through parts of his long, white and black hair that rest over his hunched back.

you've never seen him like this. not ever. you were certain that if he were completely human with a full body of flesh and blood, he'd be shaking like a leave. "boothill," you call, trying to get him to hear you.

he doesn't answer you. not verbally.

boothill shakes his head in two small shakes, somehow pushing his cheek further against the top of your head. he was taking deep breaths, taking in the smell of oil and rust and work that you always seem to be coated in. the arm around your shoulders holds you hostage and the one behind your head doesn't let your face pull even a single inch away from his neck where he keeps you.

his eye is still blurry and he still can't see properly. he needs to keep you against his body so his censors can make sure you're alive.

boothill can't 'feel' anything anymore from the neck down. the metal frame he calls his body is just that- metal. a shell that doesn't allow him to feel pain externally. so, he needs to anchor your body to him, so that all his internal do-dads can verify to his malfunction vision that you were okay.

you don't know how long boothill keeps you still like this. you don't keep track of the time. ore beeps confused and concerned once it finds its way back to the nearest tabletop closest to both of you. it's digital face with two oval, pixeled eyes that slice in half like a cartoon character's paint the expression clearly. there's even a small dash of pixeled sweat at the corner of it's 'face' that shows just how distressed it is.

eventually, boothill uncurls his arms from you, and you wince at the small strands of your hair that do end up snagged in his hands and knuckles. when you finally get away enough, you look up at him.

his face is down turned and anxious. there's a cold sweat on his cheek that's come from his hairline and slides past his ear (did he still have sweat glands?). he looks empty without his hat on, even though you should be good and well used to the sight. he often gives it to you to wear when he comes by- for whatever reason.

looking at him longer, you notice something off. with squinted eyes, you reach up and touch his cheek.

"hey, is your eye-" the cowboy jolts at the feel of your hand against his flesh and you wonder if he's sensitive to skin-to-skin contact since this small space is all he has left to experience the sensation. you go to pull your hand away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

boothill feels you pull away and quickly stops you. his metal palm that's still warm with the heat of your body pushes against the back of your hand as he leans his face into your warm, soft palm. his bullet earring is cool against the tip of your fingers that he isn't engulfing with his hand. the eye you're so used to looking at shuts at the sensation.

"boothill?" you try again now that you've both had time to calm down. you really have never seen him act like this way. was this really the same haughty, galaxy ranger who waltzes in every few months or so because he keeps jamming his arm gun, or running low on coolant, or just to bug you?

"the fire," he says. you look behind you at the scorched pile of metal that was the sole perpetrator for the whole kit and caboodle. "are you hurt?" the synthetic twinge to his voice is more noticeable when he speaks lowly you notice.

you shake your head before answering. "no. i'm okay."

"swear it." he doesn't ask.

"i swear i'm not hurt. i didn't even inhale all that much smoke." your thumb skates under his eye as he reopens it. you almost go to your toes to look closer at it. it looks different than usual. like something about it is... wrong? "is your eye okay?"

"what caused the fire?" he completely ignores your question in lieu of his own and if he wasn't so distraught right now, you would've let him have a piece of your mind. but you don't. you can circle back around to his eye once he feels satisfied.

"an old rig i found in the junk yard. i thought if i could fix it up, it'd make a decent heater for the winter months. but, i messed it up and it blew up in my face." you pout at the loss of a project since you weren't willing to go through another fire 101 lesson any time soon. you'd dissembled the hunk of junk and place it back in the junkyard where you found it.

"so that's what is was," he sighs. hearing your explanation, his shoulders deflate, and you swear you hear his body hiss out tension. "dadgummit," he curses. "scared me shirtless. don't do that, sugar." he was calming down. thank goodness.

"sorry about that," you chuckle humorlessly, "i wasn't expecting you, so i'm sorry you had to see that."

you don't know much about boothill's past. he's told you bits and pieces, but you've never take the initiative to actively pry into it. you can tell it hurts him to recall, so you just leave it be. you know he doesn't like fire. he hates the ipc- some guy named oswaldo you think it was? he lost his family on his home planet. that's the extent of the man before 'boothill' you know for the most part.

but you were able to put two and two together. the idea of someone dying and homes being scorched must scare him.

you pull you hand from his cheek and raise it so your fingers invade the right side of his hairline. the black curtain of bangs shift with your movement as you comb through the treases once, then twice before dropping your hand again. his bangs return to their black cloaking nature to his face's right side.

"it's all okay now. isn't that right, ore?" you look over your shoulder to your small assistant robot. its concerned expression it has been favoring shifts into jolted delight as its square head nods with a series of affirmative beeps. a bright green, pixelated thumbs-up pops up on its face before disappearing into curved eyes that blink open reassuringly.

you take both of boothill's arms gently and lead him to the small sofa that's full of mismatched patches of fabric from all the patching up and repairing it's needed over the years. you let him sink into the cushions first before following, you knee touching his.

your hands find themselves in your lap, finally disconnected from boothill and he's just about sad over it. but, he was calming down. and he didn't need to cling to you like that- honestly, he's almost embarrassed over it. acting like a scared dog like that? god, he wishes he could overheat into a full system meltdown.

"feeling better?" you ask. he takes a deep breath and can taste the lingering smoke in the air. still, he nods.

"yeah," he sighs. "yeah, i am." the sound of small metal taps rush around before coming closer. looking down, ore had taken it upon itself to jump from the worktable to the floor. grabbing the brim of boothill's fallen hat, it began the mission of dragging it all the way back to its rightful owner. ore's digital eyes curve up again when boothill and you look down at it from the sofa.

you chuckle before leaning down and offering your hand with your palm up. ore steps backwards up your fingers, dragging the hat that is five times its size and hanging onto the brim as you lift it and the hat into the air. ore offers the hat back to boothill with a smile he can see better now that the little guy is closer to eye level.

the galaxy ranger accepts his hat back, flipping it over and dusting the top of it off. he didn't need his eye to work to know it was probably covered in dust from ore dragging it across the concrete floor you most certainly haven't swept yet.

"thanks, lil buddy." ore chirps happily at the praise.

you lift your arm to let ore rest on your shoulder where it takes the small carabiner you fashioned onto a small guard you wear in the shop and clasps it to his back. you made this so the robot wouldn't constantly be falling off your shoulder since it often makes itself comfortable there.

"so," you clear your throat, "about your eye." you try and get down to business now that the situation has passed. "does it need refocused?"

"sure does." if memory serves, you have a machine for autofocusing equipment around here somewhere. you lean over the back of the sofa, snagging your laptop you keep behind it on a roll away desk that way it doesn't get harmed by all your other tools or dirty by a strong pump of oil or something.

you unclasp ore from your shoulder carabiner. "could you go and find the adjustment scanner? i think it's in the toolbox drawer, top right. if not there, try two rows over." ore chirps and slides down your arm to your lap, then down your leg to the floor.

boothill can't see but can hear the little metal steps run off across the room.

"how does it get onto your tables?" he's asking partially to fill the silence, but also because he's genuinely curious. "figured you'd be cartin' the fella around everywhere."

"i usually do," you admit. "but, i did install small pully lifts with extra wiring and metal pieces i had laying around." you open your laptop and open the screen to unlock the device. "once on one of the metal pieces, ore can pull himself up manually with the designated wire."

the man chuckles at the image of you macgyvering something like that up. "you're dang cute," he chides. he can imagine you sitting on the floor, eyes squinted and leaning in so far, your spine would scream while installing those things. you don't respond. you usually don't to his passing words of flirtatious intention. whether deliberately or obliviously, he doesn't know.

soon, ore returns and hands you the piece of tech you need. hooking the scanner into your laptop, boothill can hear it whirring as the fan of your laptop kicks on to prevent any overheated crashes.

"alright," you let ore back on your shoulder and the robot hooks itself on safely via that carabiner. "let's see what's wrong."

you stare at boothill's unfocused eye. boothill looks back at the blurry image of you. you huff after a solid fifteen seconds of still silence.

"if you expect me to pop your eye out myself, guess again cowboy."

for the first time since he got there, boothill barks in laughter. oh what a mental sight that would be! it's slightly horrifying to picture having the person he's so infatuated with pluck out his eyeball thought.

boothill turns his back, a series of hisses and deep breaths later, he turns around and with his empty eye socket closed, offers you the tech eye he was installed with when he underwent his initial cyborg transformation.

it took 20 minutes and some light jabs from you- 'how did you uncalibrate it this badly?'- before the scans show a recalibrated and refocused eye. you hand it back to him before he's reconnecting it with his socket. the wires hiss and attach into place nicely.

"now that's better!" he cheers when he blinks and is able to see clearly again. he looks at you for the first real time in a month and he's never been happier to see the soot covering your nose and cheeks. oh, you're too cute.

the hat he's kept on his lap the whole process is relocated to your head the moment he could see your face and recognize it again. it plops over your skull and you sigh as- once again, he's making you wear his oh so precious hat.

"if i ask," -you flick the brim of his hat on your head- "will you tell me why you insist i wear this thing every time you're here?"

"nope," he pops his p before lifting his arms to rest his elbows on the back of your sofa. finally getting comfortable. he stares up at your ceiling. "it's a secret."

the fire made a sooty mess up there. it'll be a bitch to clean no doubt.

the hatless cowboy chuckles to himself as he hears you huff with an eyeroll. "naturally."

a/n pt.2: okay wow. this got a bit outta control. whoops? also, i didn't want to gender Ore so hopefully reading the lil guy as 'it' isn't as confusing as i think lol

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Angst | Boothill x GN!Reader Homecoming

SUMMARY He thought he lost everything, but you were always here, waiting for him to come home

CONTENT Angst to fluff, happy ending implied basically, mentions of past traumas, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES Just read Boothill’s character stories… I am unwell… So I wrote this LMAOO enjoyyy GUH I just started playing the game but alas the hyperfixation is already here Also, Boothill, please actually come home please I have soft pity soon

WORD COUNT: 921

Boothill was visiting the Aeragan-Epharshel reserves, seeing what was left of his tribe, his distant family, and because honestly it was just one of those times where he was really missing home. It just hurt because home no longer existed for him. The memories still pop up sometimes. How he searched the entire burnt house for anyone, anything to rescue. It was years ago, but still haunts him, it always will. So that’s why he’s here. Just visiting because why not. No one quite knew him here, but it felt fairly cozy. The few buildings around the area were lively with families and they had farmland and livestock like he always did when he was younger. The sun was setting, lighting everything in golden and orange hues. He enjoyed the warmth on his skin, well, the skin on his face at least. A few of the townsfolk offered him some food since he was just passing by and because the town was so small, everyone knew when there was an unfamiliar face. They also wanted to help him because he helped where he could during the day, just helping people lift and move things, even catching a loose chicken. It was actually pretty nice and for the first time in a while, he smiled, just genuinely enjoying life, watching the sunset, sitting on a bench, eating his food.

It was peaceful and the warm breeze tousled his hair and brushed his face. But he also heard something insane, the name he hadn’t heard in years. It felt like it wasn’t even his name anymore but rather from a previous life in a different body. Worst or maybe best of all, it was your voice.

His eyes were blown wide, mechanical heart somehow racing. Was the robot body driving him insane? The doctor was pretty shady honestly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she fudged his brain up too.

But still, curiosity made him look around for the source of the voice, even if it didn’t exist.

You watched him look around before shifting on the bench to fully turn to see you. Both your hands were hovering over your mouth, eyebrows upturned as your eyes couldn’t believe it.

When he turned, his eyes locked on your figure. Maybe you were just a hallucination, but hallucinations don’t age, don’t get more mature or taller. You look the same but different, and maybe that was enough evidence for him to believe he wasn’t psychotic.

He stood up slowly, taking careful steps towards you as your hands shook, adrenaline pumping through your body. It felt like it took hours for him to close the few meters between you but once you saw his eyes, you knew. It was him.

“Lord… It really is you,” you breathed out as you reached out slowly, not wanting to spook him but also barely believing that he was actually there. Your hands slowly cupped his face and he forgot how warm things like this felt. Tears pricked at his eyes. At this point he didn’t care if this was a hallucination or not, he just wanted to indulge himself for once. Just believe that he didn’t lose everything. That maybe he could still have you, one of his only friends outside of his family that he had while growing up. His first love that he never had enough time with, not even enough time to confess.

It was almost cruel how you felt the same and how much your heart ached upon seeing his teary eyes, frozen in disbelief, staring into yours. You brushed your thumbs over his cheeks trying to comfort him and show him you really were here.

He started to question himself. Why did he never check out the towns whenever he came back to investigate the IPC on Aeragan-Epharshel? Your house had been destroyed but he never confirmed your corpses, only those of his own family. It was too much, he just assumed the worst at the time.

But now here you are, tears streaming down your face, looking as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on you.

“Darlin’… what happened to ya fer all these years?” You asked, questioning where he had been but also what happened to his body. You closed your eyes as your eyebrows scrunched together, unable to control your emotions and crying at this point. You quickly pulled him into a hug, arms wrapped around his neck. Reflexively, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in tight. Your chests flush against each other.

God how he wished he wasn’t cold metal right now. He wanted to feel you with his own skin, feel your warmth, how soft you were. But he could only barely make it out with the sensors on his body. Maybe he could get some upgrades? Link some more things to his brain?

He quickly snapped himself out of his own thoughts to finally respond to you. You shivered hearing his voice again.

“It don’t matter now sweetheart. All that matters is that I’m home,” he said slowly and shaky. You squeezed him harder as you started to sob into his shoulder. It made his own tears fall as he started to stroke your back.

“I thought I’d never see ya again,” you choked out.

“Same here darlin’,” he said, voice cracking.

“I’ll tell ya all about it, and ya tell me about yerself too,” he says between breathes, his throat closing from needing to cry. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere this time…

promise.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[n0tamused]

A/N: This is based off of this post I saw on tiktok theorizing that BootHill must've died a brutal death for only his head to remain.

Content: angst, scramble drabble, she/her, female reader, BootHill needs comfort and he gets it, BootHill written prior to his release

“-Hey, hey, BootHill, breathe, my love-” Warm and cautious hands cup the cheeks of her loved one who sat shaking on the very corner of her bed. Hair messy and some fallen in small clumps from the struggle with his artificial body. “Shh, you’re with me.. there’s no one around, just me” she tries to soothe him again, worry rising like a bubble in her throat at her partner’s distress.

BootHill’s eyes flickered between red and gray, jumping around the room but once they were on her, they looked at something past her, through her. Even with half of his human body gone he wasn’t spared of the terrible memories and dreams. Every once in a while they’d come back to haunt him and drag him through all the suffering once again. Like once wasn’t enough. And in his scared stupor he didn’t rise from the bed before tugging his own hair and trashing the bed, even managing to hit her in the pure state of his delirium in attempts to pull off the ropes he felt in his nightmare.

Ragged breaths fan across her hands and she has to call out to him a few more times until she finally gets a response that he’s finally lucid. “Huh-? Huh..what?” He stumbles, hoping to summon strength to feel again, with his hands, Metal wraps itself around her wrist, squeezing then lessening its grip before squeezing again. “It’s okay.. it was just a dream.. See? Just breathe, come on.. do it with me”

Worry is etched deep between her brows and her frown in the dim light of the bedroom, but she manages to calm him down. But with each twitch of his body she regrets the lack of things she could do. She would’ve intertwined their fingers together, would’ve hugged him until he realized he was being held - but what use of it was it when he physically couldn’t feel touch? It was like explaining colors to a blind man. She might as well cry with BootHill.

But she has to stay strong, and patient above all else. She needs to be his rock at this moment. “Come.. let’s rest some more. We can just lay down for now” she leads him to lay down after her, moving his head despite his confused and pained grunt, setting his ear to her chest. Her hands go to his hair and she holds him there, just like that. And she feels his weight fall onto her, no longer resisting.  The thump of her heart draws him in until it becomes the center of his world. He sees darkness before his eyes, but hears the light of the heart kept away from him, safe behind her ribs.

It was an anxious thump, fastened with fear and lack of air, before easing into a smoother rhythm. BootHill didn’t realize he was shedding tears until her gentle fingers brushed over the edge of his eyes, prompting them to close. “ ‘m sorry..” he muttered, swallowing a breath before he nuzzles his head against her chest, shuffling so his artificial body followed the long lost habit of his past self in the form of hugging. Mechanical arms practically trap her under him, and she only hugs his head closer. This is the least she could do..

Hearing him cry into her chest broke her heart, feeling how her shirt became damp,  and hearing him murmuring apologies for every tear that fell tested her strength too. He felt broken and lost, in hatred of the fate he was forced into and the suffering he had to endure, and he couldn’t give up, for that would mean betraying you. He just had to keep moving. 

BootHill can’t betray the only person left that he loves, and that loves him in return. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[hotpinkstars]

HIIII I JUST READ YOUR BOOTHILL IDEA ABOUT PREGNANCY AND I AM WELL FED 😭 i love how angsty it is. oh boy i'm sure struggles a lot during his s/o's pregnancy. like...it has lots of cry and self-conflict because he may thinking that he isn't helping his s/o. there gonna be small arguments and misunderstandings. it's hard for the both of them and the baby. 🥹

ohhhh yes. yup. decided to take a real angsty route with this one. I added some mentions of his actual backstory here, bc my og one was written before his backstory was released lols

Boothill definitely cries during your whole entire pregnancy. He also has a lot of bad thoughts about himself during it, too. 

At first, he tries to hide it, and either subtly cry, or just simply wait until you’re no longer in the room or the house. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s not happy because of the state he’s in. 

He used to be human, he used to be flesh, and most importantly, he once had a daughter of his own, and that's what crushes him the most. He fears so much that he’s almost going to replace her, even though he knows deep down in his heart that it most definitely wouldn’t be able to happen. 

He also feels so bad about not being able to do normal human things for your during your pregnancy :(((( he knows how much you want to be able to be soft and intimate, to take baths and be able to have a cozy massage and just a cozy person around in general, and he’s the exact opposite of that. He doesn’t even think he deserves the husband title anymore.

He literally once asked you why you’re still with him and not someone else. You explained that you loved him and you wanted to be with him, and even then he never really expressed the way he felt about himself to you but you could sort of see it in his eyes. He didn’t like the way he was and the fact that he can’t be what he refers to as a “proper dad” to his kid. 

He knows it’s hard on you, too, and he also knows that you’re catching onto his harsh thoughts, and you’re catching on fast. It caused an argument a few times, on how you’re hurt that he’s not expressing his emotions, he doesn’t want to, it turns into a “do you not trust me or something?” conflict on your end, and a “I just don’t know what to say without hurting you” conflict on his end. Misunderstanding that likely won’t just dissipate. 

There was one argument that you both had when you were nearing pretty close to your due date, and he decided he was going to walk out midway through and not come back for about a week. For some reason, he chose a petty route, leaving you anxious and super betrayed, considering he refused to answer his phone, too.

The argument was over something that seemed incredibly stupid, if you both must say so yourselves. He was, once again, insecure, and he wouldn’t tell you why. That was what bothered you- did he not trust you enough? Did he seriously not want to be a part of this baby's life? Why else would he just walk out?

To say it made you super anxious, scared, and lonely was an understatement. You were left with the thought that you’d have to give birth alone, and go back to your original game plan that you already mentally set up. You thought he genuinely left you.

That was, until he walked back into the house on a random afternoon that next week. He ran up to you and apologized, allowing you to cry it out in his steel arms. He felt so horrible, and he vowed to you to never, ever do that again.

He tries to start letting you in on his troubles from that point on, but there still seems to him like there's a barrier blocking his words from coming out. Sometimes, he just blames it on his synesthesia beacon, which seems to work for now. 

He also lets you see him cry more often, but that stops when you give birth. He doesn’t need you to be more overwhelmed than you already will end up being.

[azlrse]

➳ unintentionally (a boothill x gn!spouse!reader oneshot)

cw: major angst w/ open ending, reader has a bruise (unintentionally) from their ranger husband, accidental slap (also unintentional), established relationship, married au, lots of apologies and crying present here, ooc boothill (first time writing for him)

a/n: alright, as soon as i saw boothill for the first time, I was like "bet lemme write something for him". he's gonna be ooc cause 1. i didn't play the game yet (cries incompatible tablet) and 2. i am still learning the roots of this game's lore (and him once he's released) lol

!! fic contains sensitive topic, steer clear if this fic ain't your piece of cake !!

"darlin'?" a voice called out in the side of the storage room. "please come out, i-i didn't mean to hit you and im really sorry.." your husband called out for you softly to avoid scaring you further. his constant knocking and coercing you to come out lasted for 5 minutes, making you curl up further within the corner of the walls. "leave me alone.." you meekly spoke, voice still hoarse from your earlier cries as you held your bruised, swollen face.

his constant knocking just faded away as you sobbed, using your free hand to wipe away your snot and tears dripping from your face. if you just steer clear from him and not pestering him because of his anger, you wouldn't be hit and to be screamed by boothil to just leave him alone. you knew that your husband is like a dynamite, ready to explode at any moment due to his occupation. boothill assures you that he will never lay a hand on you, even when the both of you are either arguing or disagreeing over something that's simple and stupid.

but this day, he broke that one promise that kept you safe since the day he asked you out. just because of his anger towards that one outlaw who's on the run for weeks. almost captured but alas, his luck ran out once again as the prisoner kept on taunting him that he will never be caught by him.

boothill, on the other side of the door, won't give up as he waits for you to open the door and letting him treat your bruised lip and swollen cheek. he knows that it's not an excuse for him to let out such anger towards his spouse. guilt kept on creeping through his system, hearing you sobbing telling him to just leave you alone. "im sorry, sugar.." he sadly spoke, reluctantly returning to the sleeping quarters that the both of you shared.

at around 4:30 am, he quietly opens the door of the storage room and looks around to see if you are sleeping soundly; tear stains on your face, a bruised and swollen cheek, and using a rolled towel as your pillow. his heart shattered what he has done to you and knew that he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. he feared that there will be a day that you would leave him all by himself, all because of how he acted towards his own emotions and anger.

boothil scooped you into his arms as your head leaned towards his warm body. he knew that you liked it when you huddled close towards his chest as he placed a chaste kiss on your head. placing you on the shared bed, he cleans your bruises and places an ice pack on the side of you. he stared at your sleeping face for sometime before he murmurs soft apologies to you, even promising that he will never do again.

the soft light from the curtains woke you up from your sleeping slumber after the ordeal last night. 'strange..' you thought to yourself as you saw the ceiling of the bedroom you shared with your husband, not the plain white ceiling from the storage room where you seek safety during your husband's anger episode. you placed a hand on your bruised cheek and felt a small gauze on top of it and a bit of cold from the ice pack he placed on the side of your face last night.

you tried to get off the bed but felt a robotic arm wrapped around your waist. "no, no..." boothill softly murmurs. "five more minutes sugar, needin' you here right now.." a wave of anxiousness just came rushing towards you as you saw your husband on the bed with you, snuggling as he finally woke up from his sleep; his cropped jacket is gone and only had a pair of short as his sleeping attire, his hair smells like newly lit cigarettes from his trip to the saloon yesterday.

if you aren't anxious, you would be flustered of his appearance.

"mornin' sugar.." he softly spoke as he leans in to give you a kiss. afraid, you quickly jumped off the bed and quickly make a beeline for the storage room once again. "w-wait!" his quick reflexes caught your arm. "don't leave me, let's talk it here my love. I know what I did is unacceptable and I'm really sorry for hitting you." Silence looms within the bedroom as you eyes avoided his. "Please.." He pleaded, his eyes soften as guilt crept on his back.

it's up to you to decide of you should stay for him or choosing your own peace...

a/n: not my best work but hopefully you guys liked my take on boothill (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)♡

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites. Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[sundayswife]

Boothill Headcanons <3

Warnings —> Smut!! and angst

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– Boothill sometimes can't help himself but stare into you're eyes at times, he definitely loves eye contact all times with talking to his significant other.

– He definitely would love it if you'd brush and style his hair, braiding it or putting it up in ponytails or hair accessories. He would absolutely find it comforting to have you by his side while playing with his hair, and talking with him.

– Boothill likes to tell you stories about his adventures as a Galaxy Ranger, a big fat, sharky smile on his face as he sees your amazement shining in you're eyes. And interest blossoming into your features.

– He would dance with you in the rain or in the deep, dark valleys of the night. A smirk booming on his face as you both laugh and trip together, before a special warmth that strums through his cyborg body as he sees your happiness bloom through you.

– Boothill will most certainly teach you how to ride a horse properly if you didn't know how to already. He loves giving you the spirit of riding a horse, and teaching you how to ride one will hold a special place in his metal, unbeating heart. Once you'd learn how to ride a horse properly. You two would go horse riding together around the country and laugh together as you two ride into the sunset.

– Boothill would ABSOLUTELY love receiving forehead kisses from his significant other. Since his head is the only human part of him left, he can actually feel you're touch, he swears that you're soft kisses send him to heaven.

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WARNING!! SMUT HCS INCOMING

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– Boothill would love the cowgirl position, having his metal hands dig into the plush of your hips or thighs as you ride him. Also he'd love reverse cowgirl as well, watching you're ass bounce up and down as you take him so well into your hole.

– Sorry not sorry, but Boothill would totally be an ass type of guy. Seeing it bounce and jiggle as you take him from the back or by riding him. Or the way he slaps it, causing him to chuckle and have a dark smirk as he sees is jiggle. Or he'd would just grab it for leverage while you ride or take him from the back.

– He'd definitely ask you to just sit on his face if you have a pussy, would messyly eat you out as he will force you fully down onto his face without a care in the world. Boothill will, with no doubt, moan against your pussy as he licks and sucks onto your clit with his whole heart.

– Now, if you have a cock. Boothill would tease you by kitten liking your tip, before wrapping his lips around the tip a purposely moaning to create a vibration. He'd love if you tugged onto his hair for him to take you deeper into his mouth, it would make him short circuit at the feeling.

– Lastly, lots of trust would have to be build up for him to be submissive with you and let you take control in bed. Strap on or not, he'd be a moaning, short circuiting mess as you fuck him in his little metal ass. Boothill would go into a cock drunk mess if you two went into doggy or missionary. Eye contact in missionary would send him into crazy orgasms while you two go at it.

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– If you two were in a relationship for not that long, he'd still have a hard time trusting himself around you.

– Boothill would be so scared to lose you like how he lost his daughter and fathers he'd try to run away. Not wanting to ever experience losing a loved one ever again.

– Boothill who is terrified of commenting into a physical relationship, scared of losing you too.

– He'd try as much as he can to keep to himself about his problems about his past and how he feels about his cyborg body.

– He'd fall onto his knees as he watched his barn go into flames, tears falling like a storm as he couldn't do anything but watch his family go into ashes. His significant other cries died out as the house falls and burns apart and crashes down. His daughter and lover that he lived with, dead right infront of him where he couldn't save them.

– He hates his cyborg body, how much it makes him feel inhuman, but nobody can change how the past turned out.

– In the future, his wallet would have a picture with a family selfie with his daughter, his lover, and him all together in the photo. Smiling in the picture, too bad it's in the past now and his daughter and lover and fathers are gone now. Sticking to himself and away from relationships.

– Boothill who would never forgive himself for not saving his family from the nuke. Always drowning himself with self-hatred and that how he failed to save the ones he loved.