#boothill fanfiction

[sugar-phoenix]

cowboy, you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly. ✦

synopsis: Boothill doesn't do things quietly. He's loud, and messy, and he likes doing things his way. Even though these all annoy you somewhat, the cowboy starts growing on you. And then one day, he does something unexpected. tags: f!reader, f/m, no smut, fluff, light angst, mentions of Boothill's past a/n: 2.5k words, this was a lot of fun to write. hope you guys enjoy it!

ao3 link here!

Your heels clacked as you walked down the halls, the ground littered with bodies and empty bullet shells. You sighed. Unlike Boothill, who left the remains of IPC soldiers and his mark everywhere in the form of bullet holes dotting the walls, you preferred to do your work neater, quieter. His loud whoops and hollers echoed down the corridor from ahead, making you cringe.

There were many things Boothill was in excess of. Too fierce. Too exposed. Too gleeful. Too loud.

You were not fond of loud.

“I got the place cleared for you, ma’am.” Boothill’s voice rang out like a bell.

“I noticed,” you responded, turning into the server room. In front of you, server towers loomed overhead, blinking with a million eyes. “You’re not very subtle, cowboy.”

“Subtle? Why would I wanna be subtle when I could strike fear into the heart of the IPC?” Boothill chuckled.

“Being subtle can be pretty scary,” you mused, going to the main terminal and typing the code you were given. “What could instigate more fear than an invisible threat you can’t see?”

“I dunno. I like to think that knowin’ who your enemy is and knowin’ that nothing can stop him is way more scary, lady.”

Boothill sank his pistol into his holster, then strode over to where you were standing, the sound of his body moving like oiled machinery.

“After all, ain’t knowin’ how you’ll die the most terrifyin’ thing of all?”

“Touché,” you conceded, scanning the database for the folder you wanted. Boothill waited at your side, and you felt a little shock that the man who was, only minutes ago a whirlwind of gunmetal and gleaming sharp teeth, could now stand so still.

Finally, you found the folder you were looking for, and you loaded it into a drive you inserted into the terminal. Boothill had offered the use of his own ports as a way to store the data, but you had refused. Data was no good to you if you could not parse through it with your own eyes.

“Alright, we’re done here,” you said as the download finished. “Let’s get out of this place.”

The cowboy at your side said nothing but smiled, flashing his razor teeth. You both stepped out into the hallway, only to be met with a new squadron of IPC guards.

“Looks like they sent the calvalry,” you remarked.

“Yeah? Well, if you know anythin’ about cowboys, you’ll know that we don’t take kindly to calvalry.”

And with that, he was off, shooting and hollering and kicking. You ducked back into the server room, letting the cowboy have his fun, and shook your head. When the sound of gunfire had stopped, Boothill leaned around the corner.

“‘S all clear! I took care of ‘em.”

You stepped out to find a pile of bodies and more bullet holes in the walls. Well, I guess this time it couldn’t be helped.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like my handiwork?” Boothill commented at your slightly dismayed expression.

“Cowboy,” you sighed, “you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly.”

He only laughed, a rough raucous sound that reverberated down the hallway as the two of you made your exit.

✦✦✦

You stood in the middle of the ballroom in a shape-hugging red gown, fanning yourself with a paper hand fan. Eyes searching the surrounding crowd, you looked for the familiar cowboy hat. You found Boothill standing against the back of the room, looking absolutely miserable in his suit. A smile creeped up your lips. It took a lot of hemming and hawing to get him to wear that suit.

“I need my body bare, otherwise I’ll overheat,” he’d said.

“Boothill, darling, it’ll just be for the night. You’re going to cause an uproar if you just walk in with that sorry excuse for a jacket. It would be absolutely scandalous. We need to be subtle tonight.” You had adopted the pet name after a few missions with him. The two of you were slowly becoming fond of each other.

“What’s wrong with a little ruckus?” Boothill had asked. “I like ruckus.”

“I know you do, but just this once we could do without it. Come on. You get to cause ruckus every other mission we’ve had so far. You can live without making noise just this once.”

To your surprise, he conceded, taking the suit from your hands and walking to a room, muttering and cursing under his breath.

Now you felt a little sorry as you watched him. He looked like a dog that had been forced into a humiliating outfit just for its owner’s enjoyment.

Your eyes met, and you flashed your fan over your face. The signal. You had gotten what you came here for. Relief flashed over Boothill’s face, and he made his way through the crowd to you as you started walking towards the exit.

You stopped abruptly when you saw the exit.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Boothill asked, then, “oh,” as he saw what caused you to pause.

The archways were lined with more security guards than either of you had remembered when you first came in.

“They know we’re here,” you whispered. “They’re waiting to catch us on the way out.”

Boothill said nothing. You saw the calculations happen in his crosshair eyes. Slowly, he smiled, revealing his shark teeth in a devilish grin.

“Oh Boothill. No.” You said with dread.

“Oh but we don’t have much o’ a choice, do we?” he whispered. “Just let me do what I do best, darlin’.”

You looked at him, and he caught the worry in your eyes.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. I always get out, don’t I?”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

Boothill smiled wider than he had the entire night, and stepped away from you, making his way back into the crowd. You reached under the slit in your dress, hand on the dagger strapped to your thigh. The feeling of the hilt under your hand grounded you. It wasn’t long until you heard three deafening gunshots, and glass raining down from above. Chaos and panic erupted, and over all of them, the familiar laugh you’d grown to love. You watched as the archways were flooded, and the guards rushed towards the cause of the ruckus.

Taking the chance, you merged in with the panicked crowd streaming outside the ballroom, as more gunshots echoed behind you. Once you were out, you rushed to your sports car, and got into the driver’s seat. It roared to life as you turned the ignition, and you took it out of the car park and drove it to wait in front of the entrance. Panicked partygoers ran around your car, but your eyes were focused on the entrance. The way you white-knuckled the steering wheel would definitely leave imprints.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered. “Come on, cowboy.”

A beat passed, then two, then ten, and Boothill was nowhere to be seen. You got anxious, watching the large golden arches that led into the ballroom with the giant crystal chandelier that hung above them outside.

Just when you were about to accept that Boothill had been captured, or worse, dead, he emerged from the entrance, a crazed grin on his face, his expensive suit torn in shreds. You sighed in relief. Just before he reached the car, he turned around, aiming upwards, and pulled his trigger. Five bullets flew through the air, severing the chains of the giant chandelier. The guards chasing Boothill were trapped in the ballroom as the light fixture fell to the ground in front of them, shattered glass scattering everywhere. Boothill cackled, then leapt over the hood, taking his seat in the passenger side. You wasted no time flooring the gas pedal, the car screeching away from the ballroom.

“Should teach those muddlefudgers not to waste money on showin’ off,” Boothill laughed.

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

“Hard time wrapping things up neatly,” you said.

“That’s just my trademark, darlin.’”

The two of you glanced at each other, grinning wildly, as your car sped into the night.

✦✦✦

You gazed out the windows of the Astral Express. The endless expanse of space unrolled before you, a landscape of endless opportunities.

Boothill had been called to the Astral Express for a favor, and he thought you should tag along.

“They’re a pretty cool bunch, you should come meet ‘em. Who knows, they might come in handy for ya in the future.”

You didn’t need the cowboy’s persuasion to come and meet the famed Nameless. You were more than happy for a chance to come face to face with these trailblazers, to converse with them and see how they operated.

The Astral Express crew surprised you at first. They were less of an organized team and more like a ragtag family of people from all different walks of life. Pom Pom, the little conductor of the express, scrutinized you for a bit until they sniffed (disapprovingly or approvingly you couldn’t tell), and announced, “Pom Pom welcomes you aboard the Express.”

Soon after, you got to meet the rest of the Express crew. There was March 7th, the cheerful girl with bubblegum-pink hair. There was Dan Heng, the quiet, reserved young man who often kept to himself in the Astral Express' database archives. There was Stelle, the mysterious gray-haired girl who was apparently a repository for a Stellaron. She kept quiet at first, but soon you learned she had a joke for every occasion and didn't hesitate to crack one even at the most inopportune moments, to the chagrin of her companions. Then to the two stewards of the Express: Himeko, the red-haired, confident navigator, and Welt, deep in thought and with a walking stick he kept close to himself at all times.

 Boothill seemed to fit right in. He was the one who introduced you excitedly to Dan Heng, cackling and talking about how they were “best buds.” Despite Dan Heng’s embarassment at first, you could tell he enjoyed the presence of the cowboy. In that way, you felt a sort of kinship with him.

 The two of you hung out on the Express for a few days, as Boothill helped them with one of their trips. They were currently orbiting a planet named Jarilo VI. Boothill had encouraged you to stay aboard the Express and take a break, but today, Himeko saw you watching the window.

"If you want, you can go down with the rest of them," she said.

"I think I might,” you responded. “Forget what Boothill said about taking a break, I'm at my happiest when I'm working on something anyway."

She smiled knowingly.

It wasn't long before you landed on the cold planet, and it was an even shorter time before you found the crew. Stelle, March, Dan Heng, and Boothill were in a clinic, accompanied by a small child with bright yellow hair and a doctor who wore a large apron. You'd soon come to know that these two were Hook and Natasha, respectively.

Boothill made a show of being upset that you weren't on the Express, but you could tell that he was very happy you had decided to join them after all.

Apparently the crew had been on a wild goose chase, and to your mild disappointment they were finished with the whole affair. Stelle, March 7th, and Boothill all attempted to explain the situation to you, and Dan Heng kept sighing and correcting them every five sentences, so in the end you understood very little.

As the four of you walked out of the clinic, Hook caught up to Boothill and tugged at his pants.

"You aren't leaving, mister, are you?"

Boothill turned around, and in a manner you'd previously thought uncharacteristic, he crouched down and ruffled the young girl's hair.

"I am, sweetheart," he replied.

 "But, but, you're a member of the Moles now! You have to stay with us."

"Oh, and I'm only an *honorary* member?" Stelle asked, in mock anger. Hook giggled mischievously, then turned back to the cowboy.

"Also, I need your help with something," she added.

"Oh? What's that?" Boothill asked. Hook produced a strange trinket from one of her pockets.

"I wanna give this to my daddy, but I dunno how to wrap it up."

Boothill chuckled, ruffling her hair again.  “Your daddy sure is lucky to have a little girl like you.”

Then he did something that was so unexpected, the action of it was seared into your memory forever.

Slowly, he took off the bandana from around his neck, and laid it flat on the ground. Then, he took the trinket from Hook's hands and put it on top of the bandana, in the center. Deftly, and with a gentleness you'd seen from him very rarely, Boothill wrapped up the object with careful folding and gentle knots, then presented the object to Hook.

"There you go. And once your daddy opens it, you can wrap the bandana around your own neck, and I'll be there with ya and the Moles in spirit."

Tears sprung to Hook's eyes and she surged forward, hugging his neck and wailing loudly. Boothill chuckled, patting her back tenderly.

✦✦✦

The crisis with Jarilo VI solved, you and Boothill bade the Astral Express crew goodbye and went on your way. In the small spaceship you sat in, you gave Boothill a look.

What Hook and the Astral Express Crew didn't know was that the bandana he wore around his neck was very dear to him. A remnant of his past, a past that he had talked very little about with you, even though the two of you had gotten very close with each other.

Boothill sighed, feeling your gaze on him. "You wanna ask me about what happened with the girl, I can tell."

"Well, I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, I guess that's fine with me--" you started.

"No, no it's fine. It's somethin' I should've told ya long before. It's just painful for me is all."

You wanted to tell him that it was okay for him not to tell you, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

"What I never told you before, darlin’, was that I used to have a little girl of my own."

You raised a hand to your mouth. Never in your life would you have thought that the man in front of you—loud, brash and reckless—was ever a father.

"Before I was a Galaxy Ranger, before I got this metal body that I have now, I used to be just a cowboy. And one day I found myself with a daughter. Precious thing, loved her to death." He paused, taking in a deep breath, then let it out. "The IPC, they came to our planet... and they took her away from me. Took her and my whole family away from me. Razed everything I had to the ground.

 “That bandana I wore, well. It was my only reminder of her."

"Oh," you said, understanding why he was so guarded about it in the past. There was a long pause as you waited for Boothill to talk again.

 "But that girl, Hook," he started again, "she… reminded me of my daughter." Boothill took a shuddering breath. He had lost his ability to cry a long time ago, and you knew this, but sometimes he did things that told you he was weeping, invisibly. Until now you hadn't known what about.

"They would have been friends," he said softly.

"I'm sure they would have," you agreed.

You thought about the way he wrapped the gift for Hook.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" you asked.

"Do what?" he replied.

"What you did with the gift. How you folded it."

"Oh, that," he chuckled. "Some things you pick up being a dad."

There was another pause before you decided to speak again. "Well, I'll admit I was wrong about you then."

 "Wrong about what?" he asked, and you chuckled a little before answering.

"Turns out, cowboy, you do know how to wrap things up neatly."

Boothill laughed then, a soft, light sound, and you smiled.

comments are also very appreciated!

dividers by @cafekitsune

[nxuvillette]

TO FEEL WHOLE AGAIN — BOOTHILL

synopsis: getting pregnant and left by yourself wasn’t in your plans in life at all, but you end up meeting a man who becomes more than just a friend who’s willing to help.

❥- pairings : boothill x fem!reader

❥- note : so sorry for any inactivity !! life has just been a wreck, but i’m here with a little idea I came up with the other night. i hope you all enjoy <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, pregnancy, abandonment, heavy angst, breakups, mentions of abortion (reader does not have one), mentions of alcohol, human!boothill, angst with happy ending, use of pet names (darling + lovely), fluff, very fluffy things.

You can recall the day you met Boothill like it was the back of your hand. 

It was the day your life had begun a completely new journey, but also, the same day that your life had completely fallen apart within just twenty four hours. Every memory was ingrained in your brain like it was never meant to go away. How could things end up going right, but so wrong at the same time?

About seven months prior, you found yourself sitting inside of a bar with tears still staining your cheeks from the incident that had occurred just hours beforehand. Your heart had gleamed, but shattered just minutes after. You questioned why something like this had happened to you. You never wronged anybody. Sure, you weren’t the most perfect person to exist, but as humans, it’s in their nature to make mistakes. Yet, god had different plans for you and they weren’t exactly the most pleasing ones.

Just two days before that day, you had found out you were pregnant. 

It came by total surprise. You and your boyfriend weren’t exactly trying for kids, but you both had been together for four years at that point. You noticed something was off about you when your period suddenly missed its usual day, and you were experiencing some very odd symptoms that were unusual. After some convincing from your friends, you decided to go out and purchase a pregnancy test which came back positive. You didn’t know what to feel. You were excited, nervous, emotional, but most of all, anxious. You didn’t know how to break the news to your boyfriend and you weren’t sure whether or not you wanted to keep it. 

For a few days, you didn’t say anything to him. You weren’t the best with words and you didn’t want to dump something so sudden onto him either, but he eventually figured it out when he found you one morning throwing up your breakfast into the toilet. 

He wasn’t angry or upset, but you knew something wasn’t right with him after he found out. He started to become somewhat distant and he avoided any conversation about the baby growing inside you. Then, that same day you ended up at the bar, you had woken up to him gone. All of his items and personal belongings had been cleaned out, and when you tried to get a hold of him, he just completely ghosted you. You didn’t understand. Was it you? Was it the baby? Why did he just up and leave you like that with zero hesitation? It was like your heart had been shattered into pieces and you didn’t know what to do. He left you alone and pregnant with his child. 

Completely brokenhearted and confused, that’s how you ended up in the bar. No, you weren’t drinking any alcohol, but there was a part of you that wanted to head to the clinic and terminate the pregnancy all together. You couldn’t raise a baby on your own. You had seen many stories of mothers defying the odds and managing, but would you be able to? You loved your now ex boyfriend more than life itself. You didn’t think you could fall in love again, and what man would want a single mother as a girlfriend? Most of them would scurry away the second it’s brought up. It wasn’t their job to shame you for whatever choices you made. 

The bar's atmosphere was buzzing with people chatting amongst themselves. Despite being around people, you still felt completely isolated inside of it. You kept thinking of the choices in your brain over and over again. It was consuming you, and you didn’t think you were in the right state of mind to make that decision right now.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the bartender placed a glass in front of you. It was filled with some kind of alcohol that looked like it could be a margarita or a martini. Your brows furrowed at the sight of the beverage. You didn’t order it. “U-Um.. sir, I didn’t order this.” you pushed the glass towards the man behind the bar who was cleaning some cups used earlier. 

“I know, but that man over there did.” he pointed towards the other end of the bar.

You turned your attention to where he was motioning his hand. Your eyes widened a little at the sight of the man who sat a few seats away from you. He had a cowboy hat on top of his head, and very long hair that stretched past his chair. He was wearing a white button up shirt that exposed his chest just a little. He noticed you were staring at him and winked at you, then waved a little. It didn’t seem creepy or strange, but you didn’t know how to react. Despite feeling the way you did, you couldn’t help but think how handsome he was. He had a cunning smile and seemed like one of those cowboys you would have heard of in stories you heard when you were younger, but you knew you couldn’t accept his drink. 

Soon enough, you turned away and just pushed your drink from your reach. You didn’t want to do anything stupid. If it came off as rude, then so be it. You weren’t about to fight with another man this evening. 

You decided to check your phone. There was a small bit of hope that was in your heart. You hoped that maybe your ex reached out to you to fix things or maybe had something to say, but unfortunately, there was nothing. You had a few random notifications from friends, but otherwise, it was silence on the other end. God, you felt like an idiot. He was gone for good. Men who do that shit typically fall off the face of the earth and never come back again. 

“Hey, sweetheart, mind if I take this spot next to ya?” 

You practically jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice that spoke beside you. Your head snapped towards the sound, and you were a bit surprised to see that man who was sitting across the bar now standing next to you. His cologne filled your nose. It smelled of deep wood with a mix of pine. 

Your words got caught in your throat. Was he doing this to make you uncomfortable? Part of you wanted to ignore him, but he wasn’t necessarily doing anything wrong. “N-No! Go ahead.. it’s empty anyway..” you replied, trying to avoid his eyes that were boring holes into your face.

The man plopped beside you, taking a swig of his glass that seemed to be filled with some kind of whisky. He was quiet, at first. You weren’t sure if striking up a conversation was in your cards tonight. You were honestly too lost in your thoughts, and somewhat a little nauseated. “So, uh, do ya come around here often? You’re quite the peach if I say so myself.” he placed his cheek against his fist which was resting against the table beside him.

“I don’t..” you replied, dryly. 

He seemed a little discouraged by your sudden lack of enthusiasm. It wasn’t your intention, but really, you weren’t interested. “I see.. my name’s Boothill.” he said. “Yours?”

Your eyes flickered towards him then back at the soda can that your hand was wrapped around. This was starting to feel awkward or almost like a forced conversation. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but you wanted him to take the hint. “(Y/N)..” you looked at your cell phone to try and avoid him. “Look.. I-I appreciate the drink, but I’m not really interested in a relationship. I just don’t.. I..”

Before you were even able to finish your sentence, tears began to trickle down your cheeks. You didn’t even know you were holding them in until they began to slip from your eyes. 

Boothill was taken back by your sudden tears. He immediately felt guilt wash over him. He didn’t mean to come off as a weirdo or forceful towards you. That’s the last thing he would ever do. “Hey.. I’m sorry, shit, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I-I can totally take the drink back and get out of your hair.” he stood up out of his chair to leave the bar. 

You started to wipe your cheeks of any liquid that was on them. “N-No, it’s alright, it’s not you..” you shook your head. “I’ve just had a rough couple of hours.. believe me, it’s not you at all.” 

The man was unsure of what to reply with. Regardless, he felt very bad for you. Not many people come into bars to weep. Most of the time, they come to do the opposite and use the drinks to numb any negative feelings they have. He didn’t want to pry by any means. “I see.. I’m still sorry,  darlin’ I had no idea..” he paused for a moment thinking of what to say next. “If you wanna talk, I’m willing to listen, can’t guarantee I’m any good at advice, but I can be an open ear.”

You weren’t sure if venting your feelings to a complete stranger would make any difference in how you felt. It's not like he would care much anyway. He would probably look at you with that same look every other person had given you when you told them what your ex did. 

However, you were completely wrong.

That day you told Boothill everything that had happened to you. He was completely blown away when you confessed that you were pregnant. He kept apologizing for the drink and was somewhat worried that you felt disrespected, but you didn’t take any offense. It’s not like he knew, nor were you even showing at that point. 

Although he didn’t know you, he had a lot of sympathy for you. He told you that your boyfriend wasn’t a man, but a young boy who couldn’t take responsibility for his actions and he didn’t deserve you by any means. Boothill felt as if abandoning a woman and her child was the sickest thing you could ever do in this life, and you couldn’t help but agree. Especially after spending many years together. 

It felt kind of nice to have someone listen. Even if he was some random person you didn’t know, there was at least somebody out there who was willing to give you the time of day. 

You felt a little dull when you realized you would probably never see Boothill again, but you thanked him many times for his patience. He was even sweet enough to walk you back to your apartment which wasn’t very far from the bar at all. Typically, you weren’t so trusting when it came to men in general, but Boothill’s energy felt secure for some reason. You didn’t feel fear or unease around him. Your body would always give you signs someone wasn’t good, but you were calm and didn’t have a single issue. 

For a little while, you wondered if keeping the child was the right option, but after a lot of conversations with your friends and family, and oddly enough, Boothill, you decided to go forward with the pregnancy. 

You thought you would have to do it alone, but that changed almost instantly when you started receiving random items at your doorstep one morning. 

You had a stable job, but you knew babies weren’t a walk in the park financially. Your parents offered to help pay for whatever was necessary, but you felt bad for making them do such a thing. It all started to shift when you discovered a package outside your apartment door. You had a box of different supplies. Baby shampoo, baby bottles, wipes, lotions. It was basic necessities for an infant and you were a bit confused how they showed up there. You questioned your parents but they denied ordering anything of the sorts, so you wondered who gifted it to you. 

Your friends were also clueless. They had gifts in mind but they weren’t planning on purchasing anything that early on in your pregnancy. You hadn’t even planned on a baby shower or anything of the sorts. 

It didn’t take long for more things to arrive. One morning, you saw that you had been given some baby toys. They were small and quite cute, but you still had yet to discover who was the one leaving them at your doorstep. You wondered if it was potentially your ex trying to somehow compensate you for deserting you, but would he really? He left you alone with the baby. It was clear enough that he wasn’t interested in helping to raise it, so why put in the effort to accommodate you? He could care less about you. 

It all changed when you were leaving your apartment one afternoon. You had an appointment at the doctor’s office to check on how the baby was doing, and standing right beside your front door was not your ex, but Boothill.

At first, you didn’t notice him holding a box of items in his hand, but the realization soon took over that he was the one buying the gifts. You were taken by complete surprise. The two of you had hardly interacted much during that time period, so it did confuse you why he was helping you. He wasn’t obligated to just because you informed him of what your ex did. It wasn’t like you were begging him for money or assistance either. Boothill was just as surprised to see you there too. He usually would stop by when he knew you wouldn’t be around, but he knew sooner or later the truth would come out.

With a flushed face, Boothill began to explain himself. 

He told you that he just couldn’t let you go on that journey alone. He knew it wasn’t his responsibility to be buying you things or even being involved in your life like that, but at the same time, he couldn’t sleep at night knowing that you were all alone and there wasn’t anybody else to be there for you. He did apologize if it made you uncomfortable and he wouldn’t come around again if that was the case. 

However, you told him the opposite. You were very thankful for what he had been doing for you. Not many men would step up and just go out of their way to buy things for a baby that wasn’t theirs. You told him you were very appreciative of what he had done, and he could come around as often as he liked. It was kind of lonely being by yourself all of the time. Your friends weren’t always the most available, and you lived on your own. It felt nice to know that somebody wanted to spend time with you. He was relieved that you weren’t weirded out or upset with his actions. He wanted to do the right thing. 

Much to his surprise, you invited him to come to your ultrasound that day, and he was thrilled.

Your interactions grew over the course of a few months. You started seeing him everyday and he came around whenever you needed something. Boothill didn’t mind spending his days with you. It was a joy to watch your belly grow and to see your baby begin to become larger than it was before. His favorite moments were when he’d feel a small kick or movement. He loved kids. It was a guilty pleasure of his, and he honestly couldn’t wait to meet your baby girl. He made so many bets that it was going to be a girl and you thought he would somehow be wrong, but he was right the entire time. 

Along with the baby's growth, there were also feelings between you and Boothill too. He was the first man in your life since your ex and he treated you so much better. He did everything for you, and the baby wasn’t even his. He would spend time helping you tidy up your house, holding your hair away from your face when you had morning sickness, making you tea, giving you massages whenever your body felt sore. Boothill did everything. He even offered at one point to do the entire nursery for you when your due date came closer, but you assured him that it wasn’t his duty to do so. 

But, he planned on doing it anyway.

All of your friends told you to go for it. They said that Boothill was what you needed and they could tell he was into you too, but you were still unsure. If anything, he could be doing all of this just to somehow hurt you in the end or claim you “owed” him a relationship for doing everything for the baby. You knew that probably wasn’t the case, but you were still on the fence.

But, was he?

-

That afternoon, you had woken up from a nap to a knocking coming from your front door. You weren’t expecting any guests, but you had already assumed it was Boothill who was there to do his usual drop by to check in on you. 

You unlocked the front door, pulling it open so he could enter. He was dressed in his usual outfit. A white button shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and those cowboy boots that you had made fun of a few times. Boothill was used to just entering your place at that point. “Afternoon, darlin’” he said, shutting the door behind him. 

Your hair was a bit messy from your nap and you weren’t really dressed up. You wore an oversized t-shirt with a pair of shorts that sat just below your belly. It was a lot more comfortable than the regular pajamas you were used to wearing months ago, but alas, the growth of your body had made those a lot less comfortable these days. Boothill still thought you were gorgeous despite the messy look. “Hi..” you yawned. “Sorry, I’m fresh from a nap. I didn’t hear my alarm..”

“Not a problem, I was just stopping by to drop something off for you.” he replied, handing you a box that had your name on top of it.

Your eyes flickered from the box to the man who was staring down at you. You were used to him giving you random things for the baby here and there, so you were expecting something that was a necessity. “I’m curious, let me see.” you then began opening at the box to see what was inside of it.

After a few seconds, you pulled out a small blanket, but it wasn’t one that was from the store. It was actually homemade, and right in the center was the baby name you had picked out stitched into the fabric with baby pink lace. It was probably the most adorable thing you had ever received from him. It was so soft and you could already picture yourself swaddling your little girl in the blanket itself. The fact that it was homemade as well made it even more special than it already was. 

You weren’t sure if it was the pregnancy emotions or not, but you could feel warm tears burning your eyes. It was truthfully making you feel so happy for this pregnancy, but most of all for Boothill. You couldn’t be more blessed with a man like him. “I-I.. I love it..” you sniffled, trying to hide your tears. “It’s so cute..”

Boothill was concerned with your sudden emotions. He didn’t mean to make you cry. If anything, he wanted to do something special for you since you were a special person in his life. “Ahh.. shit, I’m sorry, lovely, is it too much?” he asked, nodding his head. 

You shook your head, laughing in the process to try and halt the tears slipping through your eyes. It was the furthest thing from too much. You adored it. You didn’t care if the stitching was a little crooked or if the pink was somewhat bright, it was cute. It had to be one of the best gifts you had ever gotten. “N-No! I love it! It’s something I wouldn’t have imagined you’d give me! Did you do it all on your own?” you looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Haha.. yeah, that’s why it might seem a little messy. I got the idea though and figured why not? You need something to swaddle that little monster with!” he smiled, which made you smile as well.

Boothill was taken back when he suddenly felt your arms wrap around him. This was the first time you had ever initiated any sort of physical contact with him, and he wasn’t sure how to react to it. Your body felt warm and your belly was against his own abdomen. He could smell the scent of your shampoo lingering in your hair, and it almost intoxicated him from how delicious it smelled. He hesitated for a brief moment, then settled his own arms around your waist. It just felt.. so right to be hugging you. He had yearned for quite a while to feel your touch, and now that he had it, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

Your cheeks felt hot at the realization that you two were so close. There was so much going through your mind at the moment, and all you craved was him. His presence, his touch, his warmth, anything. It was all you wanted. “Boothill.. I want you there when she’s born..” you spoke, softly. “I want you by my side.. you deserve that more than anybody else.”

His eyes grew wide at your words. Sure, he knew he was going to visit when your baby was finally born, but in the room? During the birth? Oh, he could faint right about now. “Of course I’ll be there, sugar. You know I wouldn’t miss it.” he replied, smiling at the thought of your birth. 

Boothill then crouched down to meet your belly. He hadn’t ever done that before while being with you. You felt his hands touch your stomach, seemingly searching for your little girl who was somewhere in there. It felt so natural for him to be doing this. You didn’t feel off or weirded out. You loved the way his fingers explored your skin, touching and grazing at the stretch marks that had formed within time, but what you loved the most, was him.

“Can’t wait to meet your little one.. she’ll be a peach, I know it.” he looked up at you with a grin. 

“Our.. little one.”

Boothill paused when the words slipped from your lips. He thought he had misheard you for a second. “W-What..?” his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You felt a little bashful having to repeat yourself. You weren’t sure what his reaction might be to you saying such a thing, but you couldn’t keep quiet anymore about your feelings. You wanted him involved in your daughter’s life so badly. It would kill you inside if that wasn’t the case. “O-Our.. baby, Boothill.” you said, avoiding his gaze that was fixed on you.

He stood up, still staring at your face with a serious expression. It was like his heart had completely blown up inside of his chest. It was like he was falling in love with you all over again at that very moment. He couldn’t feel more honored that you thought of him that way. “You’re serious..?” he questioned, looking into your eyes. 

“Y-Yes.. god, yes, Boothill. I don’t care if she’s not technically yours.. in the end, I want you in her life, and mine too. I can’t imagine a life without you..” you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his.

He couldn’t hide his wide smile at your confession. All of the love he had swallowed down was now completely overflowing, and he didn’t mind whatsoever. You were so beautiful. He adored you so much, and he was more than happy to call you his girlfriend. He was also thrilled to have a daughter. He could care less if people would judge him for raising a child that wasn’t his. He was more of a father to her than any other man would be. 

He suddenly pulled you close to him, pressing a kiss onto your lips. It was so passionate and loving. He couldn’t stop himself. It was like he was finally able to have what he wanted, and it felt amazing. “I love you so much, darling, you don’t even know how deep my love runs for you..” he pressed his forehead against your own. “I’d die for you and our little angel..”

A grin appeared on your face. This was all you ever wanted to hear. You didn’t think you would ever have the opportunity to hear him say such things, but you couldn’t be happier it was coming true. “I love you more, Boothill.” you then placed his hand on your belly. “And I know she does too..”

The both of you couldn’t be more excited at that moment. It was all perfect. You had everything you ever wanted. Neither of you imagined that this life would be in front of you now, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[nutler--kleinja]

idk i feel wierd typing this this feels so wrong

[bombiix]

Her.

Boothill. Winter was approaching. tw : angst. 2.7k words. NOT a x reader fic!

Winter approached. Wood had to be chopped, house had to be warm, cold had to be kept outside. It was a routine, a simple one he used to follow every years. His long and thin fingers wrapped around the handle of the axe, the polished metal slashing through the deep pine wood, he was preparing himself for winter. Despite the bright sun up in the sky, sun rays sliding across his body, tanning his skin, he could not allow himself to be late. Sweats dripped along his forehead as warmth weighted on his shoulders, his bare arms felt heavier while they rose in the sky to pierce through the wood as heavily as they felt. Few birds sung their arrival to their family, others sung for food and some flew away as the axe chopped through the wood one more time. Ears up in the sky, tilting towards the man loud enough to disturb nature, horses puffed air in curiosity. Disturbance was a big word as they returned to graze, grinding and chewing grass. Tails swinging in the air to chase flies away, their skin twitching at any contact. Sliding a hand on his forehead, he sighed heavily. While he was the only one able to do this job, it was still a tiring one. The sun didn’t help as he felt crushed under it, any movement becoming an extra effort. But the wood had to be chopped, not only for him, but for her. A man of promises keeps his promises, winter would be warm. He rose his arms up in the sky one more time before throwing them down, the metal crashing in the trunk supporting the log of wood. Although it was a beautiful sight for his wife, it became an agony for him. Listening to his body, he started to pack up the cut wood. He knew the crushing sun wouldn’t last for long, he was used to those abrupt change of climate. He learned and had to adapt himself and his cabin, for him. But also for her. Rubbing his hands together, in loud claps, he sighed. Finally, he finished and he could go back inside and enjoy some free time. Hurriedly, he went in the cabin. He made many promises, many that he certainly forgot, but spending time with her was one he would never forget.

She was there. He couldn’t help but feel relieved. A wolf toy in her hand, she made it play with her owl plush. Raising the wolf front paws in the air, to make him stand on his hind legs, a timid howl would leave her mouth.

“Baby, you wanna call wolves?” He said, as calmly as he could, fearful he would scare her. She turned around quickly, leaving her toys to run into his arms. A bright smile appeared on her round face, a laugh escaping her lips. “Do you think we could?” She lifted her head towards him, hope filling her eyes. He took a second, admiring her face. How barbaric of him it would be, to say no. His lips tilted in a smile, his hands sliding in her soft hair. After all, calling a few wolves in the night in the safety of their cabin wouldn’t cause problems. She never had the chance to hear them yet, it was the moment.

“Sure, don’t fall asleep.” She laughed, quickly responding, “Never!”, loud enough to startle birds around the cabin. As quickly as she answered, she went back to her activities. He observed her for anew second before turning to the small wooden kitchen. The wooded floor creaked under his feet, the sole of his boots scraping along the wood. It was a small kitchen with enough cabinets to store food. Few pans were hanging and casseroles were pilled together, all copper. A basket filled with vegetables, such as carrots, tomatoes, onions; vegetables which came from their garden, rested on the kitchen counter. Putting a casserole filled with water on the plates, he lighted up the gas. He took a knife and sat down onto a chair, which squeaked under his weight. Quietly, he peeled potatoes. The knife cut down the skin, his thumb pressed down on the potato and the skin lifted up as the blade slid under it. The scratching of the blade against the potatoes’ skin felt loud, the skin being peeled off buzzed in his ears. He tilted his head up, silence filling his head.

“Where’s mama?” He asked, her absence becoming deafening to him.

“She went to pick mushrooms, papa.” His little girl responded, looking up at him. He put down the knife a moment, his eyes scrutinizing her. He smiled in response, nodding his head. Mushroom stew might not be the best dish but it was the best he could do. A few potatoes, herbs, fresh mushrooms and the dish would be exquisite. He didn’t have the culinary standards of a star chef but the smile of his daughter was enough of a reward. He wanted her to have a belly full of good meat and vegetables. His own belly groaned, hungry like a lion. He didn’t realize that he was late for diner, her wife or his baby used to call him when it was the case. Everyone seemed busy today. Water boiled in the casserole he filled with potatoes, avoiding splashing his hands with the simmering water. A harder task than it was supposed to be, water landing on his hand. He hissed, shaking his hand far from the casserole.

“Are you okay, papa?” His little girl asked, turning to him. He nodded again, cooling his hand under the stream of water in the sink.

“Yeah, papa just burnt his hand a bit.” He sighed. He looked at her. “Y’know how clumsy he can be.” He smiled at her, earning a laugh from her. She hoisted herself on her legs, sore from the playtime on the floor causing her to wobble. It wasn’t rare for her to lose balance, she always had a hard time walking on her legs. It was the reason why her father never liked her leaving the house alone. It took her a few clumsy steps to reach a small cabinet that she opened. Another few clumsy steps to reach her dad to which she handed him the bandages. Her father’s eyes observed her hands, as if she was the one who hurt herself, before thanking her. Sitting down on the squeaking chair, he reached out his hand to her. “You wanna help pa’?” She nodded in response. Holding the bandages in her small hands, she gently unwrapped it around his hand. Soft, quiet, she made sure to not hurt him more than he already was. But pain was already gone when he looked at her. In a world where she was alive, no pain could touch him. Quiet words were exchanged, guiding her to carefully wrap his hand. He looked at his bandaged hand, not hurting as much as he thought it would. Perhaps burn wounds became a habit as he tended to burn his fingers when he filled the fireplace with logs of wood.

Night settled in as the sun rested behind horizon. Bird’s melody quieted down for crickets and cicadas to take their turn in the song. Last sun’s rays pierced through pines before disappearing in the darkness of the night. Purple painted over pink hues the sun left on the sky, blue slowly fading his way over it. Despite the crushing darkness of the night, it could never erase the pink his eyes were seeing. A pink faded with orange, as if the day never wanted to stop. The sun was too stubborn to let the moon take place. Perhaps, it was him, who never wanted the day to stop. Time flew by, too fast for him. Days were too short for him to enjoy his time with his daughter. Despite those short days, every morning was a blessing as he was greeted by her face, her smile, her eyes. Despite those quick days, every morning were the same. A routine he settled, for their own good.

Winter was coming, wood had to be chopped, the cabin warmed up and the cold kept outside.

Warmth weighted on him as he slashed his axe through the wood. Horses went grazing farther away, playing and running around. Despite the crushing sun, they were ecstatic. Birds chirped and flew away with each wood’s log being slit in pieces. Sweats dripped along his forehead, muscled arms flexing with each movements. Cutting woods was always a chores, one his wife appreciated as he always did it without his top on. Rare became their intimate moments since their daughter came in their life. He thought about his wife, who left for mushrooms. She would be coming back, for a nice mushroom stew he would prepare. A bit of vegetables, of meat and herbs, and it would be perfect for his daughter. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear little steps behind him.

“Papa?” He jolted, turning his head towards her. A quiet sigh relaxed his shoulders as he placed the axe on the trunk.

“Don’t scare me like that little one.” He whispered, passing his arm on his forehead to wipe sweats away.

“We didn’t call the wolves.” She retorted, quickly. He looked at her, frowning his brows. He felt confused, hands placed on his hips. He tilted his head on the side, as questioning her. He breathed heavily as the heat weighted on him.

“You fell asleep, papa.”

He looked at her an instant. Pinching his lips, he looked down. How dumb he was. A man of promises who couldn’t keep his promises. He wanted to argue, to tell her they did. He was sure of it but how a father could doubt his daughter’s words? Admitting his defeat, his fault, he knelt down to her height. He gently took her hands in his, hers disappearing in his large hands. She felt soft, as smooth as silk, a tad cold. Placing tender kisses above her hands, he looked up at her.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could reply. He felt guilty and couldn’t bring himself to give her a new promise he couldn’t keep. Excusing himself was all he could do. Perhaps they needed more time together. He decided to abandon chopping woods for her, leading her to the house. He tried his best to be the father she deserved, he was learning as much as her and listened to her needs to fulfill her child’s heart. They were growing together. Walking towards the cabin, he led her to the house. She felt hesitant, wanting to walk longer in the garden but she finally gave in. Following her father’s steps was always a safer choice than wandering alone, with her uncoordinated feet.

Entering the house, he had a shiver. He felt cold despite little flames dancing in the fireplace. He sat down next to the fireplace, the sunshine passing through the windows. She sat next to him, holding her toys in her hands. She went back to it, howling with her wolf toy raising its paws in the air. He couldn’t believe she was satisfied with such simple games. A kid like him needed to run, scream and jump everywhere. He was a “little terror”; adults loved to give him nicknames. Perhaps her clumsy feet didn’t help her, he thought. Turning his gaze to the fire, he thought about the next day. He would take her with him and bring her on his horse.

An uncomfortable silence filled him. He frowned as he turned his head to his daughter.

“Where’s mama?”

His daughter raised her head towards him.

“Who’s mama?”

Silence filled the room, as he stared at her.

“What?”

“She went to pick mushrooms, papa.” She smiled at him before playing with her toys again. He didn’t respond as he stared at her. He shook his head, thinking his ears were playing games with him. Or his daughter probably was, kids often says weird stuff after all, he told himself. A sigh left his mouth, his shoulders falling as he relaxed. He couldn’t help but feel his ears buzzing, disturbing the peacefulness of his silence. It probably was due from the heat outside. Hoisting himself on his feet, he walked to the kitchen. Not a long walk as the cabin was pretty small. It had a second floor for a few beds; it was more of an attic. Quietly, as to not disrupt his daughter’s playtime, he put down a pan on the gas, followed by a casserole. He couldn’t help but shiver again, his eyes staring outside the window. How weird, how cold he felt even with the scorching sun outside. Shrugging it off, accusing it on the cabin’s humidity, he sat down on the small table to peel potatoes.

His eyes felt heavy, his hands having a hard time following his movements. He certainly needed some rest, close to his girl. Void filled his head as humming gently flew to his ears. He fought his fatigue, keeping on peeling those potatoes as if it was his last mission. He couldn’t help but listen to this sweet melody, lips ajar. It felt like a voice coming from another world, echoing in his head. He yielded, his heavy eyelids closing.

He found himself cutting wood again. We were already tomorrow? He asked himself, frowning. He didn’t realize how quick time went by. Days became shorter, mornings became rougher. He kept his routine, despite the guilt of not spending time with his daughter. He shook his head in discord with his own mind. He placed the axe down, sitting on the trunk. Perhaps he should go see her, it seemed like forever since he didn’t see her.

“Papa?” He got startled, turning his head to his girl. Hands behind her back, she smiled at him. Her hair seemed even brighter, the sun shining along her hair. He couldn’t help a smile, admiring the little girl who was his daughter. It felt weird, how he didn’t feel his heart beat in happiness, but knew better how grateful he was for the world to give him such a pretty daughter. He would fight men and gods for her.

“Yea, darling?” He bowed his head on the side, to have a better view of her as the sun was blinding him.

“I keep calling for you.”

Silence settled, as their eyes met. A smile twisted his lips, his head shaking in disapproval.

“Wha’ do you mean?” He puffed, putting down his hat. He was met with silence as she looked at him. Silence filled him, filled his mind, lips ajar. His gaze never left hers as he couldn’t even move his brows in a frown. A nervous laugh left his mouth, as if she admitted to have an imaginary friend. He lifted himself from the trunk, quiet steps approaching her. He felt it, his heart beating against his rib cage. It was painful, agonizingly fast. He could feel it in his wrists, his ears, his throat. It was beating everywhere in his body, his blood rushing in his veins. His knees met the floor, icy cold. He reached for her face, his eyes meeting hers.

“Papa.”

He heard it.

Winter was there, his knees buried deep in the snow. Woods was chopped, packed up near the cabin.

Winter was there and it was overwhelmingly hot. Heat weighed down on his body, knees buried deep in the snow. He couldn’t find the strength to stand up, he didn’t have the strength to scream.

Winter was there and her cries were faded in the roaring growls of the fire, her torment silenced by the cruelty of those flames.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her suffering. He didn’t have the courage to see how lonely she is. He thought about her small hands reaching for the sky, asking for her father. He imagined her cries, desperately calling for her father. He realized how lonely she must have been, consumed by those barbaric flames who didn’t have pity for a small soul such as her. Those mornings were only lies, those days never existed because the sun never rested down; he landed a finger to the house he would curse.

He realized how his mind played him, giving him hopes of living with her. Those days never happened.

Left alone, in front of those blinding flames, he heard them. Wolves howled their despair, trying to reach her ears, never would she be able to hear them with her father.

“She’s gone.”

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

Rebirth of a Cowboy

synopsis: This is part two of Death of a Cowboy! If you haven't read that yet, I highly recommend reading it first! tws: child death, trauma tags: boothill, boothill has a daughter, I gave boothill a name, heavy angst, trauma a/n: the second part of the sad boothill fic I wrote! took me a long time deliberating over posting it so I just bit the bullet (pun intended) and did.

ao3 link here!

The trip off-planet was a blur.

Somehow, Wes stowed away on an IPC ship, barely restraining himself from killing everyone aboard. Once he was alone in the hold, he curled up, and allowed himself to weep again. It was as if a garden he’d cultivated for years within himself had been razed to the ground, leaving nothing but scorched earth and a gaping hole inside.

As the ship neared its destination, the intense burning grief had effectively cauterized his heart, leaving him numb to his emotions. He got off the ship, running across the shipyard unnoticed and into the bustling metropolis that sprawled before him. Everything was foreign and cold, concrete towering over him in hard edges and inorganic lights everywhere.

He found himself stumbling into a bar, lost and alone, and the bartender took pity on him and offered him a place to work and stay, despite his lack of any identification. Over time, he got more accustomed to his new surroundings, accustomed to the bustle of daily life in the city. Through his job he met many different people, from different walks of life. Yet, no matter how long he worked, how long time had passed since Aeragan-Epharshel, the garden in his heart stayed destitute and dry, an dull ache that didn’t go away.

And then one day he met a Galaxy Ranger.

Drawn to his righteous nature and kindhearted behavior, Wes asked him many questions about his work and what he did, to which the Ranger answered truthfully. They protected the weak, served justice by their own hand. Each Ranger followed the Hunt — an Aeon that Wes recognized by a different name — in their own way, were solo riders. And as he talked, Wes felt something grow inside of him, one with thorns and a flower that bloomed a fiery red.

“How do I become one?” he asked.

“Just start,” the Ranger replied. “You’ll need this.”

The Ranger dug within his pocket and presented a bullet to Wes, with a distinct shark-like face at the front of it.

“This is all you need. Us Rangers may be few and far between, but these are our uniting force. This bullet tells you that no matter where you are, brother, you aren’t alone.”

Wes took the bullet, holding it up to the light and studying it reverently. An idea took hold in his mind.

☆ ☆ ☆

It would be a week before he would walk into the dimly lit clinic, located underground and away from prying eyes. Too long, he thought, as he made his demands to the black market doctor.

“I want a new body. This one ain’t for me no more.”

She gazed at him calmly, chewing on her sandwich.

“What do you plan on doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to become a Galaxy Ranger. But to do that, I need to get rid of this.” He gestured to himself, as if there was a problem with his youthful, lean build. “This body needs too much. Where I’m goin,’ it won’t be very useful.”

The doctor chewed thoroughly and swallowed before speaking again.

“This road doesn't suit you. Get out. Go find a job or... get an education.”

The cowboy took off his shirt. Underneath the fabric was a body that was half charred, covered in burns and scars from his time fighting the IPC. Despite the state of his body, the doctor was undeterred. The young man didn’t realize how much potential he had, she reasoned. There was so much he could do, so much he could learn.

But what the doctor didn’t realize was that the young man was completely aware of how much potential he had, knew exactly what he wanted to use it for. He held a gun to her head, refusing to argue with her any longer.

“Just giv’ me what I asked,” he demanded.

It was here that the doctor saw that there was no amount of reasoning that could change his mind, so she put down her sandwich and wiped her hands on her smock.

“Go lie down over there.”

He watched as she set up her tools. A variety of sharp objects hovered over and surrounded him, and he closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his decision.

“There’s no going back from this, I hope you understand,” the doctor said to him as she prepped the necessary drugs.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“You won’t be able to feel anything, touch anything.”

“Don’t need any of that ta’ do what I’m gonna do.”

“Alright.”

He closed his eyes, letting her work around him, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart.

The artificial lights flickered behind his eyelids. The clinic smelled faintly of something metallic and burned. The only sounds he heard was the clinking and shuffling of the doctor.

He breathed in, feeling the stale air fill his lungs.

He breathed out.

The doctor stood over him, snapping her gloves over her arms.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She hooked up the drugs to him, and he let himself fall away.

☆ ☆ ☆

The cowboy had never been one for dreams. His eyes felt heavy, as if a hand were keeping them closed, and in the darkness he saw flashes of a life. His own, he realized, as he watched himself at a young age play with his siblings. He watched as his caregivers taught him everything he knew, watched as he grew from a little boy to a young man.

He watched as he found the baby in the grass, took her back into the house with him. He watched her take her first steps for the second time in his life, watched her smile and giggle and laugh and run and shriek. She was so different from what he was now. She was so full of life.

He watched as the IPC razed his family to the ground. Smelled burning flesh, and realized that it came from the world beyond his eyelids. He heard the heavy breathing of the doctor who worked on him. Somewhere he felt regret. But it was too late now, and he already accepted his consequences.

He wanted to sink into this unconscious state, wanted to sink into it and never leave. It was soft, comforting, like a mother’s touch. He didn’t even know his mother but he thought that if he did she would feel like this.

Then, just like the way he fell into this dream, everything fell away from him, until it was dark. Suddenly, he was surrounded by his rage, his vengeance. In the distance, a light appeared. A glimpse of a new path, a new purpose, fueled by his newfound passion. And as he walked towards it, a voice from his past called out to him.

“I love you, Daddy.”

The cowboy paused before stepping into his new life.

“I love you too.”

He opened his eyes, and felt choked.  Sitting up, he gasped, gulping air, triggering a  chorus of beeps from the monitors around him. Something felt wrong with the way he breathed. It was like when he took the Synesthesia Beacon, when his voice felt altered, but much, much bigger.

“Congrats. You’re pretty hard to kill.”

The young cowboy coughed. Everything felt disoriented. He looked down at himself.

Gone was his scarred, burned flesh body. In its place was iron and steel, cold and hard, clicking together as he shifted. He flexed his fists, heard the metal of his fingers scrape against the metal of his palms.

He felt nothing. It’s what the doctor told him after all, but now, actually experiencing the absence of touch, he realized it was a sensation he could never have been prepared for.

But this suited him now. In the aftermath of the disaster, his mind had become cold and numb, and now, his body reflected that.

“Ya thought I was gonna die?” The young cowboy looked at the doctor, who had washed her hands and resumed eating her sandwich. The smock she wore was stained with blood, no doubt his. He tried not to think about it.

“Most people would have died, and it won’t have been because I’m bad at my job.”

“Well I hav' a piece of good news for ya: I've been dead for a long time.”

The doctor nodded quietly, as though they were merely talking about the weather. She took another bite out of her sandwich.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The cowboy took a pause. He closed his eyes.

He couldn’t feel the operation bed he sat upon. He couldn’t feel metal, only felt a resistance that told him his fingertips were pushing against something. All he heard was the clinking of his metal parts and the doctor’s chewing, and all he smelled was the same stale air, yet the metallic tang was stronger. He ran his tongue against the teeth in his mouth, shark-like and pointed, foreign. Yet even these few sensations felt departed, as though he was sensing them through a barrier.

He felt dead.

“Boothill,” the cowboy said finally. “Where I come from, that's what we call gunslingers who end up bite'n the dust.”

Boothill. That name was the final step, the final piece of his new future. He felt a renewed vigor, an excitement that coursed through him, and he smiled wildly at the doctor.

“But this is just the start, doc. Of all the prices I hafta pay to get ma revenge, this here's the lightest toll.”

The cowboy flexed his limbs carefully, then managed to stand up from the operation bed. His new body would take some getting used to. The doctor stepped aside as he limped out the door, then waved to him from behind.

“Then, happy hunting, Boothill the Galaxy Ranger!”

Boothill breathed in the night air, which no longer felt as crisp as before, then looked up into the stars.

And if his eyes didn’t deceive him, he could’ve sworn there was a new light blinking down at him from above.

dividers as always by @cafekitsune

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[trailblazethegalaxy]

Honkai: Star Rail Recommendations ~ Boothill

Boothill X Saloon Girl by @wriothesleybear

[elixrr]

He trusts you. Over the course of your friendship, he built an unforgettable bond with you, one that was meant to last forever– and, really, it could've. It should've, he's not gullible, nor is he naive. He hardly trusts anybody, so you're a rare case— perhaps you're his final and lucky case where he can have somebody else sit with him, shoulder to shoulder, and no mask would have to be up. You're his best friend; you're his lover. You're the shoulder he can lean on, sleep on, lay on, cry on, and that's something that he hasn't had for several years.

Towards the start of your friendship, he didn't exactly see you as a friend, you were more of an acquaintance than anything. You were almost set to be treated by him the same way that he'd treat anybody else. He kept you at arms length, he kept his distance for a while.

Yet, you began to close that distance. You began to slither past his arm, growing closer to him. You were willing, and that's absolutely why you both should've been a lifetime bond.

But now you're being rushed to the emergency room— a head injury, something severe. You're unconscious, terribly injured from the fall, but you're lucky to be alive. He's lucky to have you alive, but now he waits. He waits, waits, and waits for his only trust, his only other shoulder, his only love, and he hopes that you can wake up soon.

You eventually and successfully did. You were in a coma for about a week, but you've finally opened your eyes. You're awake— you're alive! By the Archons and Aeons, that's all that matters to him.

“W– Where am I?” You mutter, eyes finally fluttering with consciousness. Typical question, probably always asked. He watches the doctors explain everything to you.

He watches your eyes as they flicker from one person to the next. One doctor, another, the last one— then to him. A smile nearly graces his face, but your eyes are taken back to begin the cycle again. That doctor to the next, then to that one doctor, then on him, and rinse and repeat. You glance at him as he stares at you, and it's as if he was just one extra person in the room, just one other doctor— out of uniform, though. As if you were saved by him, too, under his care, but your glances are as distant as they are for the other doctors.

Your gaze is unrecognizable. His is the same as ever.

“Who are... You guys?” You ask. ‘Who are you?’ is and would've been fine as long as you looked at somebody that wasn't him, but he's not gullible; he's not naive, and that's the thing. He immediately realizes that you don't recognize him.

He says your name without thinking.

“Do you...” He hesitates, but pursues. “Do you remember me?”

“No, sorry? Have we met before?” The words are fluent, so you didn't hesitate—

—so you don't remember him.

“Amnesia?” One of the doctors mutters, and that's when he realizes that it's all over for him.

He doesn't have another shoulder. He doesn't have a best friend. He doesn't have a lover.

He doesn't have you anymore.

He looks at you, and you look at him. Your eyes are finally fixed onto each other, but you're so distant, so far away from him now. You're both in the same room, but an unavoidable and terrifying distance is built between you two.

“What's your name, then?” You still ask.

The distance shortens. Are you still willing?

“You seem... really upset that I can't remember you. Maybe if you tell me your name, I can remember you?”

Are you really still willing?

He says his name.

“That's a nice name. Sorry, I can't remember, but I'll try.”

“You're willing?” He blurts.

“Of course.” You half-smile.

A sad grin grows on his face. He still loves you— he can feel it deep down inside. You don't remember him. You probably don't even remember any of those special memories you two created that had made the both of you the duo you were, but a smile still adorns his face regardless. You're alive.

And you're still willing.

And, because of that, your bond could last a lifetime.

[genshinluvr]

Disaster in Penacony

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and the Astral Crew (minus Nanook) go to Penacony! Things end up not going well on your end and a mysterious blond man (who works for the IPC) oh so generously offers you his hotel room! Little did you know, you won't have the best experience in Penacony as a newcomer.

Note: I haven't played HSR's story quests in a long time (I'm still in Penacony), so this fic is most likely awful. I will not continue writing any HSR fanfics until I am fully caught up with the game itself. Newer fics will be shorter since it's been a little over a year since I have written or posted any fanfics— baby steps. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: I'm not caught up with HSR, so this fic is most likely ass. Possible mischaracterization of the newer characters 😞

Word Count: 5.2k

You cling tightly to March’s arms as you and the rest of the Astral Express crew enter The Reverie in Penacony. While the hotel is beautiful, the multiple stories make you feel nauseous. You did not know that the hotel has so many floors. Some areas of the hotel don’t have any railing— or at least one high enough to prevent people from falling.

“Are you alright? You don’t look too good, [Y/N],” March says, walking farther into The Reverie Hotel.

You shake your head, shutting your eyes tightly. You’re not enjoying the fact that you’re somewhere really high up. March sighs sympathetically, rubbing your back as she guides you to where the others are standing. Mr. Yang and Himeko are talking to the lobby manager to check everyone in the hotel and make sure the information provided is correct. 

March pats your back, “[Y/N], look! We’re safe away from the edge! There is a stable ground, and everyone is safe and sound!” 

You peek from March’s shoulder, eyeing your surroundings warily. Dan Heng and Caelus walk over to you and March, looking at you worriedly. You didn’t stop clinging to March’s arm since arriving at the hotel lobby, refusing to let go of her arms. While you can cling to Dan Heng or Caelus, you opted for March because she was the closest person to you when the Astral Express arrived at Penacony. March guides you over to an empty chair in the hotel lobby and sits you down.

Dan Heng and Caelus stand before you, making sure to shield your view of the precarious drop of The Reverie Hotel. After what feels like forever, you finally release March’s arm and bury your face into your knees. Caelus sighs, patting your head while you try to collect yourself. You’re not a fan of heights, not even a bit. Sure, you go on rollercoaster rides from time to time, but this is different. 

While drowning in fear and misery, you hear footsteps approaching over to where you, March, Dan Heng, and Caelus are standing and sitting. You peek from your knees and stare at the ground, seeing familiar pairs of shoes come into your line of sight.

Mr. Yang sighs, “How is [Y/N] doing?” he asks.

“It's the same as before. They refuse to look up and have been attached by the hip with March since our arrival at The Reverie Hotel,” Caelus replies. “It’s a miracle March can drag them to this spot without them dying on the spot.”

Himeko giggles, walks over to where you’re sitting, and kneels before you, rubbing the back of your head. “You poor thing. Do you think you’ll be able to go to our hotel room once we have officially checked into the hotel?”

You peek up at Himeko, nodding. “Yeah! I can try! But I can’t promise anything, Himeko. Why does this hotel have so many floors?” You whisper.

Before Himeko can say anything, Dennis, the hotel lobby manager, approaches your group with a sheet of paper in his hand. “Mr. Welt Yang and Miss Himeko?” Dennis asks, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Everyone looks at each other, confused and worried, before Himeko and Mr. Yang walk over to the lobby manager. After giving yourself an internal pep talk, you let out a long sigh before standing up. March gasps softly, covering her mouth with her hand as she watches you. Dan Heng rolls his eyes at March’s reaction while Caelus shakes his head, chuckling under his breath.

“What’s with the reaction, March?” Caelus asks, lightly tapping March upside her head. 

March grumbles and glares at Caelus while rubbing the back of her head. “Hey! Watch the hair! You’re so annoying, Caelus!” March stands up and brushes the dust off her clothes. “How are you feeling, [Y/N]? Still as anxious as ever?” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. There’s no use in freaking out over heights— you and everyone else are already at the hotel lobby, and everyone is going to their rooms soon. Once you arrive at your room, you should be fine and dandy! Then, you can shower and nap before being dragged who knows where. 

You smile at March, though it ends up being a grimace, “I’m okay for now, March. I just wish that Nanook was here with us.”

While everyone on the Astral Express is currently at Penacony, Nanook, unfortunately, cannot join you and the rest of the Astral crew. Why? Nanook said something about having to deal with an unspecified situation and didn’t want you to get involved. You’re grateful that Nanook didn’t want you to get involved, but you’re disappointed he’s missing out on being at an interesting place like Penacony. However, what Nanook’s definitely not missing out on was this damn hotel because why the hell does it have so many stories?

“It’s okay! Sometimes, you and Nanook need to be away from each other! It’s good for couples to take a break from seeing each other if they spend waaaaay too much time together!” March says, patting your back.

Dan Heng coughs and clears his throat. “They’re not dating, March. Just because they spend time together does not mean something is going on between them.” Dan Heng looks mildly miffed— almost like he wants to smack March for saying that out loud.

March raises her eyebrows at Dan Heng. “Oh, really? Then how come I heard them—” 

“March!!” You screech, lunging towards the girl and covering her mouth with both your hands while she struggles against your grasp. You smile at Dan Heng and Caelus awkwardly. You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel March lick your hand, trying to get you to release her. But you continue to cover her mouth while Dan Heng sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while Caelus stares at you two in horror.

“Please behave in public, you two. Other guests of The Reverie Hotel are staring at us,” Dan Heng mutters, looking around the hotel as if he doesn’t know you and March.

You grunt and release March from your grasp after she elbows you in the gut. You wipe your hand on your pants and glare at March, who sticks her tongue out at you with a shit-eating grin. You grumble to yourself before looking over at Mr. Yang and Himeko. Himeko gestures for your group to walk over, but the look on her face makes you not want to go over there.

March leans over to you, “Are we in trouble?” She whispers.

You shrug and approach Himeko anyway, with Dan Heng, Caelus, and March following close behind. As you approach where Himeko, Dennis, the lobby manager, and Mr. Yang, you realize they’re in an almost heated discussion. Mr. Yang looks unhappy, almost stressed. You and the trio behind you trade glances with each other.

Dan Heng clears his throat, grabbing their attention, “Is there a problem?”

Dennis laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes and no, but I’ll leave that to Mr. Yang and Miss Himeko to answer your questions,” Dennis says, taking a step back and gesturing to Mr. Yang and Himeko.

Everyone looks at Mr. Yang and Himeko anxiously. Caelus and March look at one another, knowing what’s about to come. It happened the first time they went to Penacony, and it’s most likely happening again, but this time, you and Dan Heng are present. 

Mr. Yang sighs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Himeko places a hand on Mr. Yang’s shoulders and smiles at him as if she’s telling him that she’s going to be the one to tell you, March, Dan Heng, and Caelus what has happened. Although Mr. Yang is grateful for Himeko's wanting to explain the situation, he rejects the offer and gives the four of you a rundown of the situation.

Apparently, your information did not register in The Reverie Hotel’s system— like how it happened with Caelus in the past when they went to Penacony the first time. It’s strange how the same situation is being repeated, but this time, it’s happening to you. 

Dan Heng furrows his eyebrows, crosses his arms over his chest, and looks at Dennis. “Is it possible to book [Y/N] a spare hotel room in The Reverie Hotel?”

“No, it won’t be possible because all of the hotel rooms are completely booked,” Dennis replies, fumbling with his hands anxiously. “I apologize, but I have thoroughly checked the hotel’s system for Mx. [Y/N]’s information, and I cannot find anything in the system.”

You press your lips into a thin line before sighing in defeat. Perhaps this is your sign to return to the Astral Express. After all, you’re not fond of the design of the hotel. It’s beautiful, but the precarious heights make you feel queasy, and you don’t know how much longer you can stay in the lobby without spiraling. Plus, you miss your cabin and Nanook. 

You smile at Dennis and wave him off, “Oh, don’t feel bad! This is probably a sign for me to return to the Astral Express while everyone else stays and enjoys Penacony!” You’re getting ready to walk away from the group, but Caelus places both hands on your shoulders and drags you back to where you’re standing.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Mr. Yang says, nodding.

You nearly deflate at his response. It’s not like you didn’t want to stay in Penacony and enjoy a new environment! You don’t want to stay in The Reverie Hotel. You pucker your lips and nod, letting the group figure out another way to let you stay at the hotel. You sit on the arm rest of the couch in the lobby, staring at the red carpet of the hotel, zoning out.

A laugh captures your attention, making you look up to see a blond man approach you. He looks dazzling, almost luxurious. He takes his sunglasses off and lets them hang from his shirt. The blond man stops before your group, crossing his arms across his chest, and gazes at everyone with mirth. 

“Ah, so we’re having the same issues as last time, I see,” the blond man chuckles, shaking his head. “My, my, who do I have to give my room to this time?” He strokes his chin as his magenta and cyan eyes scan the group.

You freeze in your spot when you two lock eyes. For a split second, the blond man’s expression quickly changes before returning to the typical smugness he displayed earlier. Before he can say anything, a man and woman stand beside him. The new guests (?) have wings for ears… do they have ears? You slowly tilt to the side, trying to see if they have ears, but the man with grayish-blue hair narrows his eyes at you.

“Aventurine, Sunday, and Robin. What a pleasant surprise to see you three again!” Himeko says, smiling at the trio. 

Caelus leans to Dan Heng and March, “Is it really a pleasant surprise to see them? I mean, Robin, it’s good to see her again, but the other two?” Caelus mutters.

The blond man (Aventurine?) strides toward the nervous lobby manager, pulling him over to the desk while the grayish-blue-haired man and periwinkle-haired girl remain with your group. You can’t help but get this unsettling feeling in your gut. You squirm in your spot before getting up from the armrest and waddling over to where Mr. Yang is standing.

“What’s the matter?” Mr. Yang murmurs as you stand behind him and Himeko.

You shake your head, grabbing onto the back of his coat and looping your arm around Himeko’s arm. The man and woman stare at you— one being out of curiosity and the other being unreadable. The longer the grayish-blue-haired man stares at you, the more the unsettling feeling creeps over you. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s something off about him. Other than the fact that he’s incredibly attractive, the angel wings for ears (does he have ears?) give him an illusion in a way— If that makes sense.

The periwinkle-haired girl approaches you, Mr. Yang, and Himeko. The gentle smile of hers puts you at ease, but the feeling is short lived when the grayish-blue-haired man stands beside her. The girl peeks from between Himeko and Mr. Yang, waving at you with the same sweet and gentle smile. Aeons, you can’t help but feel like a child meeting strangers for the first time.

“Hello! I’m Robin, and this,” she gestures to the stoic man beside her, “is Sunday, my brother! I see that you’re new to Penacony!” Robin looks ecstatic.

You nervously smile at Robin, debating whether you should come out from behind Mr. Yang and Himeko. “Hello, Robin and Sunday! It’s nice to meet you both! Please excuse me for my strange behavior. As you said earlier, I am new to Penacony and feeling overwhelmed.”

Robin’s eyes widen, giving you a sympathetic look. “Are you alright? I understand this is a new environment for you and all, but are you alright?” She takes a step closer.

The scary yet beautiful man beside Robin— his name is Sunday, holds his arm out in front of his sister, stopping her in her tracks. Robin looks at Sunday curiously as he continues to stare you down, almost as if he’s trying to read every part of you. From your facial expression to your body language— heck, maybe he’s trying to read your mind, too! Wait, can Sunday read your mind? He can’t, right?

Robin clears her throat, trying to grab Sunday’s attention. “Is there something wrong?”

Sunday lowers his arm and glances at Robin from the corner of his eyes before flashing a calm smile in your direction. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you can’t help but feel that he doesn’t necessarily like you. Maybe it’s all in your head, but who knows? “There’s no issue, dear sister. Although, I do not want you to startle our new guest here. They look overwhelmed,” Sunday says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Robin gives you another sympathetic smile before watching you get whisked away by Dan Heng and Caelus. While the trio (March, Caelus, and Dan Heng) are keeping you distracted from your fear of heights and the two good looking siblings, Mr. Yang and Himeko talk to Aventurine and Dennis a little longer. Robin and Sunday keep to themselves, occasionally talking with one another while not-so-subtly looking in your direction. 

After thirty minutes, Aventurine struts towards your group with a smug smile. “Due to a system error, I have decided to give you my hotel room,” Aventurine says, propping his hands on his hips while looking at you with his magenta-cyan eyes. “Come, come! I’ll show you where the room is!” Aventurine turns around and starts walking, gesturing for you to follow him. 

Aventurine graciously gives you a short tour around The Reverie Hotel. It’s beautiful, and you’re relieved that you didn’t have to be in an area where you’re very aware of the number of stories the hotel has. Walking past the VIP lounge, you can’t help but feel out of place, but you ignore the feeling and continue to follow after Aventurine with the others.

Needless to say, the hotel room is something you didn’t expect. There’s no bed, and there are more couches than beds. There is a seashell-looking bathtub—what is that, really? It’s filled with blue liquid, and bubbles are floating to the top. You turn to Aventurine, confused as hell. Aventurine chuckles and starts to explain everything to you and how things work in Penacony. Aside from the seashell bed bathtub thing, there’s no bathroom.

“— Does that make sense, Mx. [Y/N]?” Aventurine asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blink and clear your throat, nodding. “Yes, Mr. Aventurine.”

Aventurine smiles, shaking his head. “There’s no need to call me Mr. Aventurine. Mx. [Y/N]. Aventurine is just fine. We are friends, correct?” He raises his eyebrows at you, the corner of his lips curving into a tiny smirk.

“If that’s the case, then there’s no need for you to call me Mx. [Y/N], Aventurine.”

Aventurine throws his head back, laughing. Your face warms the more he laughs and pats your shoulder. Dan Heng, March, and Caelus look at Aventurine with an indescribable look. They look like they’re judging the blond man. What’s his job occupation again? He’s part of the IPC, correct? Should you even trust Aventurine..?

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to tend to. [Y/N], I hope you enjoy your stay at The Reverie Hotel and look forward to seeing you in the Dreamscape.” Aventurine winks at you before exiting the hotel room.

The Dreamscape, huh? One by one, each person leaves your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sit at the edge of the tub (what is that thing, though? It’s not a bed, that’s for sure) and stare at the glowing blue liquid. So, this thing is supposed to transport you to Dreamscape? It won’t hurt to try it out, right?

You dip your feet into the glowing tub before slowly submerging yourself. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to soothe your racing thoughts and heart. You slowly lose consciousness, drifting off to Dreamscape.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“We’ve been here for who knows how long, and there are still no signs of [Y/N]. Are you sure they’re in Dreamscape?” March demands, crossing her arms over her chest. “They’re not picking up my phone calls or text messages!”

Himeko places her hand on March’s shoulders, “I’m sure [Y/N] is in Dreamscape. After all, it’s quite large, and [Y/N] is probably exploring around.”

Before March can respond, she sees Welt, Dan Heng, and Caelus approach her and Himeko with new guests. March does a double-take and points at the new guests. Since when did someone contact these men? Unfortunately for you, Nanook isn’t with the group. “Poor [Y/N]... they’re going to be so disappointed that Nanook isn’t in Dreamscape with us. Can Aeons enter the Dreamscape?”

“Why did you bring an army of men to search for [Y/N]?” March huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jing Yuan chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s good to see you again, March 7th. We were informed about [Y/N]’s sudden disappearance. How can we sit by and do nothing?” Jing Yuan asks, crossing his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at the pink-haired girl. 

The bustling city of Golden Hour is loud enough to deafen anyone who speaks. So, to be able to hear each other, Welt suggests going elsewhere to speak on the situation. Blade grumbles and glares at the person who bumps into him. The person stumbles out an apology before scurrying away.

Gepard clears his throat. “I can see why the assumption of [Y/N] getting lost is possible. Penacony is huge and lively.”

“Hey, this may sound like a craaaaazy concept, but why not stop by their hotel room at The Reverie Hotel before, I don’t know, check Dreamscape?” Sampo asks, brushing his fringe away from his eyes. 

Blade rolls his eyes, kicking over the advertisement sign. It flops over before scurrying around the group. Blade pulls out his sword, getting ready to hit the scurrying sign, but Luocha chuckles and stops him before he can pull his sword out. The sign continues to hop and mock Blade before running back to where it was previously.

Luocha hums, brushing his hair off his shoulders, and scans the lively environment. “Penacony is a strange yet interesting place. Perhaps [Y/N] got distracted by the things Penacony has to offer and ended up getting lost. I’m sure they’re fine.”

The large group continues to scour the area of Golden Hour, searching for the one important missing person who is not from their universe. The Penaconians and tourists from all over the galaxy walk past the group, muttering to themselves as they weave through Himeko and the others. Everyone is too immersed in Golden Hour to notice the distress the group is showing. Where in the world are you?

After searching high and low for your whereabouts, everybody is back at square one. Blade sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, wanting nothing more than to leave Penacony and its festive environment. Cars race by, and people are laughing and enjoying the Dreamscape. The environment can be overwhelming for newcomers. Perhaps you feel that way about Penacony and leave the Dreamscape without notifying the others about it.

“How are we sure that [Y/N] is still in the Dreamscape? Perhaps they never step foot in Golden Hour. Have you guys thought about that?” Blade asks, raising his eyebrows at the Astral Express crew.

“Huh, that could be a possibility…” Luka murmurs, stroking his chin. “How can we be sure if [Y/N] entered the Dreamscape?”

March groans loudly, running her hands through her hair, tempted to yank at the roots. “We can’t just keep standing here wondering where they are. We need to look everywhere for them because who knows what could have happened to them if we don’t search every nook and cranny!” March stomps her feet. 

Welt places a comforting hand on March’s shoulder, giving them a light squeeze. “Don’t worry, March. We will find them in no time.”

March sniffles, hugging herself. “How can I not worry about them? There are weird people here, and we can’t trust Sunday or Aventurine to find [Y/N] because they’re weirdos with weird intentions,” March grumbles, wiping the stray tear away.

Himeko walks over to March and pulls her into a hug. March buries her face in Himeko’s shoulders and hugs Himeko tightly. Everyone stands in silence, listening to the live chatter and cars driving in the background. It’s best for everyone to take a break from the search to clear their minds, or else they won’t be able to focus on the search.

Welt is sure that you’re safe somewhere in Penacony. The main issue is finding your exact location, and there is no way to reach out to you or pinpoint your exact location. Wherever you are in Penacony, everyone is determined to find you and bring you back to The Reverie Hotel before anything or anyone can get to you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You peek from the cement planter, staring at the monsters in horror. They perk up and look in your direction, only to see nothing of the sort. You hug your knees to your chest, slowly peeking from the corner. When you arrive in Dreamscape, you are greeted with monsters. It wasn’t pleasant in the slightest, and you ran for your life. Of course, because this is your first time in Penacony, you don’t know where you are going, and this is where you end up— hiding behind cement planters, praying for someone to save your ass. 

You reach into your pocket to call for someone, only to come to the realization that it most definitely fell out of your pocket as you’re running for your life. You hear a shout and something falling to the ground. You peek from the corner once again to see a tall man with brown hair kicking the absolute shit out of the mechanical soda dog and other creatures you cannot identify. 

“Goddamn, who is that fine ass man?” You gasp, covering your mouth.

The man adjusts his tie and rubs the back of his neck before yawning into his hands. His right arm is littered with scars, one of the buttons of his shirt looks like it can snap off at any second, and he has bags underneath his eyes. The mysterious man sighs, walking in your direction. You slowly stand up, checking your surroundings for possible monsters lurking nearby. 

“What are you doing out here alone? It’s not safe here,” The man says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You clear your throat. “I, uh, woke up here, actually! The last thing I remember, aside from running for my life, was going into one of those bed, bathtub pods thingy at The Reverie Hotel, and here I am.”

“Hm. So, you never woke up in Golden Hour?” 

You shake your head, earning a sigh in response. “I would contact my friends, but I dropped my phone while running for my life. So, there’s no way for me to contact my friends, unfortunately, and it’s most likely they’re at Golden Hour.”

“Well, since you’re, I’m assuming, new to Penacony, I’ll take you to Dreamjolt Hostelry. From there, I can contact your friends to come and get you.” The man says nonchalantly, gesturing to you to follow him.

You trail behind the tall beefy man, surveying your surroundings. It’s beautiful and also really high up. It’s probably almost as bad as The Reverie Hotel, but it’s outdoors. The man stops in his tracks and looks at you with an amused yet tired look. You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights, wondering why he stopped out of nowhere. 

“Is there a problem?” You ask, worried he might leave you stranded wherever you’re at. 

The man chuckles, shaking his head. “No, no! No problems at all! However, I never got your name. My name’s Gallagher. I’m a security officer for the Bloodhound Family, and you are?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you pretend to look at the beautiful sky. “My name’s [Y/N]! It’s nice to know the name of my savior,” you say, trying to cool yourself down. At a time like this, you still manage to find someone attractive no matter how close you come to death. 

He smirks, “[Y/N], huh? It's good to finally pin a name on that pretty face of yours. Now, follow me.” Gallagher starts walking.

You stare at his back, eyes wide. You fan yourself to get rid of the heat settling on your cheeks, but the more you try to do so, the more your face becomes warmer. You’re okay, and you’re safe— all thanks to the Bloodhound Family’s security officer. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Upon arriving at the Dreamjolt Hostelry, Gallagher tells you to make yourself a home, and that is what you do. You sit at the bar, nursing a drink Gallagher made for you— nonalcoholic, of course. Gallagher steps away from the counter to make a phone call to Mr. Yang. As you’re sipping your drink, you hear a soft sigh behind you.

“My, my. You’re over here nursing a drink while your beloved Astral Express family is searching high and low for you.” Aventurine chuckles.

You turn around to see Aventurine, Sunday, and some violet-haired man. Sunday smiles at you, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You press your lips into a thin line, pushing the drink away. You want to look for Gallagher, but you’re worried that if you turn around, one of them is going to snatch you up before Gallagher can say “SoulGlad.”

The violet-haired man rolls his eyes. “Ignore this bumbling fool. I’m here to inform you that your friends— The Astral Express Crew— are on their way to your location. That Security Officer called to inform them of your whereabouts. Needless to say, they’re relieved to hear that you’re safe and sound and have brought guests along with them.”

You smile at the violet-haired man warily, “Thank you for letting me know, uh…”

“Veritas Ratio— Dr. Ratio.” Dr. Ratio bows politely.

You look at Aventurine, who’s now standing much closer to you. You take a step back and raise your eyebrows at the blond man. Geez, just when you thought you were going to make new friends in Penacony, you ended up being wrong. These men are giving you weird vibes, but not in a good way. It’s such a shame that they’re so pretty. Dr. Ratio, on the other hand, is the lesser of two evils (Sunday and Aventurine).

“If you three are thinking of putting your hands on [Y/N], I highly suggest you don’t, or else you’ll be dealing with something worse than the Astral Crew and their new guests,” Gallagher interjects, now standing beside you.

Sunday exhales through his nostrils, narrowing his eyes at the Security Officer. “And what are you implying exactly, Gallagher? You’re going to be the one to protect them?”

Gallagher shrugs. “I saved and protected them from harm earlier. What makes you think I can’t do it again? Oh, and I wasn’t implying myself,” Gallagher chuckles.

“What are you—”

A deep voice interrupts Aventurine. “WHERE ARE THEY?”

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you peek over Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, and Sunday’s shoulders to see a familiar person storming into the Dreamjolt Hostelry. Your eyes widen, and you look at Gallagher, who shrugs in response.

“Nanook, what are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t come to Penacony.” You squeak. 

The Aeon of Destruction’s glare softens upon seeing you. Nanook walks toward you, pushing past the three men, and grabs you by the waist before hoisting you over his shoulders. Just when Sunday’s about to say something, Nanook glares at the man, causing him to close his mouth and glare at the Aeon of Destruction. Nanook smirks and shakes his head, walking to the entrance of Dream Hostelry. At the entrance stands the Astral Express Crew and new guests from Belobog, the Xianzhou Luofu. Wait, who is that redhead?

“I see the Aeon has made it to them before we did,” The redhead sighs.

You gesture to the redhead, confused, “Who’s this?” You ask.

“My name’s Argenti. I belong to the Knights of Beauty. It’s a pleasure to meet you, [Y/N], despite such circumstances,” Argenti bows, “It’s a relief to see you are safe and unharmed.” 

You awkwardly smile at Argenti, still on Nanook’s shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Argenti! Though, I wish we could’ve met differently.” 

“Yer lucky Gallagher was able to find you. Yer friends were close to putting up missing person’s posters all over Penacony if they didn’t find you by the end of the day.” A man wearing a cowboy hat chuckles, shaking his head.

“And you are…?” You trail off, suddenly feeling drained from the introductions. How many people have you met today? Aventurine, Argenti, Dr. Ratio, Robin, Sunday, Gallagher.

The cyborg cowboy tips his hat forward, winking at you. “The name’s Boothill. A pleasure to be at  your service, Mx. [Y/N].”

Himeko chuckles. “Alright, everyone! That is enough for today! I’m sure all of you can introduce yourselves to [Y/N] back at The Reverie Hotel (Reality). Poor [Y/N] probably feels drained from today and needs rest, isn’t that right?” Himeko looks at you. 

Nanook shakes his head. “We will be returning to the Astral Express, which is much safer for them. They can return to Penacony whenever, but I do not want them staying at the hotel.” Nanook states, glaring over at Aventurine, Sunday, and Dr. Ratio. 

Before anyone can interject, Nanook walks away with you still over his shoulders. You lay limp on Nanook’s shoulders, closing your eyes. You can’t wait to return to reality. Being chased by unknown creatures of Penacony sure did a number on you. You can’t wait to relax and sleep on a real bed with Nanook at the Astral Express. 

Note: Now that I got that out of the way, I am finally free!! I had this idea on my mind for a while and it was driving me crazy. I don't really like how this fic turned out, to be honest. Lowkey tempted not to post this, but I'll post it anyway since it's been a while. Next week's fic will not be Isekai'd!Reader fanfics for both Genshin and HSR. It'll be a commissioned fanfic instead, so that's going to be different. I'm going to try to post two fics a week in the future, but idk when. Anyway! To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for this fic: Will not be tagging people in fics for now— at least for this fanfic

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem!Reader, metal vibrating dick, metal vibrating fingers, semi-public, spanking, fingering, Boothill can’t curse, Boothill calling himself “daddy”, creampie

Synopsis: Boothill had been on a mission for quite some time, and you had missed him dearly. So, when he finally returned, you were bursting with excitement to greet him — and he felt the same way too

A/N: special dedication to my beloved @crystalwolfblog & @shonen-brainrot

OTHER FANDOMS MASTERLIST

In the dim light of the station, the air was thick with the faint scent of rust. 

The weeks without Boothill had felt like an eternity, each day dragging on without the comfort of his presence. When his message finally came through, the simple words, "On my way back to the station," sent a jolt of happiness through you that you couldn't contain.

You quickly put on his favorite short skirt and a plain shirt, the anticipation making your hands tremble slightly as you smoothed down the fabric. Your heart raced as you made your way to the hangar, the familiar paths of the station feeling new and exciting again.

As you approached the hangar, you caught sight of him strolling through an empty technical corridor. His confident stride, the glint of metal and the familiar outline of his figure were unmistakable. You didn't hesitate. With a mewl of pure joy, you ran to him, your footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. "Boothill!" you cried, leaping into his arms.

He caught you effortlessly, his strong, mechanical arms wrapping around you with a firm yet gentle grip. "Missed you, darlin'," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine warmth. He peppered your cheeks with kisses, each one soft and lingering, his lips brushing against your skin in a series of tender touches.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent mixed with the metallic tang of his body. "I missed you too," you whispered, your voice muffled against him. 

The weeks apart had been difficult, but now, in his arms, everything felt right again.

He put you down, and pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. "You look beautiful," he said, his gaze roaming over your outfit. 

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Consider me surprised and very pleased," he replied, his metal fingers tracing gentle patterns on your shoulders. "You know how to make a guy feel welcome."

His words brought a blush to your cheeks, and you felt a warmth spread through your body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the station. "I couldn't wait to see you," you admitted, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt.

Boothill's expression softened, a rare vulnerability showing through his usually confident demeanor. "I couldn't wait to see you either," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Being away was tough, but knowing I'd get to come back to you made it bearable."

He kissed you then, a deep, lingering kiss that spoke of all the longing and desire that had built up during your time apart. His lips moved against yours with a passion that made your knees weak, and you clung to him, pouring all your emotions into the kiss.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. 

After that, Boothill’s  fingers gently traced the curve of your jaw. His touch was cold, yet you didn’t mind in the slightest. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving with the intensity of his desire. "Do you know how much I missed ya, darlin’?" he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that seemed to vibrate through the very air around you. 

The words were both a question and a declaration, and your response was caught in your throat, replaced by a soft gasp as his fingers slid into your mouth.

Boothill's lips curled into a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His free hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, the coolness of his body a stark contrast to your own heated flesh. "Shhh," he whispered, his lips curling into a dark, seductive smile. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "I want to hear every sound you make," he said, his tone dripping with desire, "But we can't have you wakin’ up the whole station, can we?" 

You nodded eagerly in agreement as he trailed open mouthed kisses up the column of your neck.

With a dark, predatory smile, he brought his fingers to your lips, his eyes locked onto yours. “Now, be a good little girl and open your mouth f’me, baby,” Boothill commanded.

You obeyed, parting your lips as his fingers slipped inside. The sensation was strange but exhilarating, his fingers exploring your mouth with a deliberate, teasing slowness. 

He watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he pushed deeper, his thumb stroking the outside of your lips in a soothing gesture as his digits hit the back of your throat.

The taste of metal filled your mouth, and you moaned around his fingers, the sound muffled but unmistakable. Your gaze never left him.

Boothill’s eyes darkened with desire, his own breathing growing more ragged as he took in the sight of you, moaning like a pathetic whore, even when he didn’t touch you fully yet. He began to move his fingers, sliding them in and out of your mouth. “Do you like that?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Do you like the way my fingers feel in your mouth?”

You nodded, your response muffled by his fingers as you sucked on them earnestly.

Boothill’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, and he pushed his metal digits deeper, the sensation intensifying. The taste, the feel, the sheer dominance of the act — it was all driving you wild.

Boothill's free hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. "Good girl," he praised again, his eyes darkening with lust as his free hand cupped and fondled your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. 

Your nipples were perky, and it made him grin as he gently pinched one of them.

Before you could respond, his fingers that were fucking your mouth began to vibrate. The sudden, intense sensation caught you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise. The vibrations sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body, your moans growing louder, more desperate. 

"Didn't expect that, did you?" he said, his tone dripping with amusement. Boothill’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you squirm. 

You clenched your thighs together, trying to rub them, seeking so much needed friction.

The tension that had built up during the weeks apart seemed to melt away under the gentle pressure of his vibrating fingers against your flexed tongue.

With a deliberate slowness, Boothill withdrew his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to gasp for breath. 

Your lips were swollen, your face flushed with desire. 

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

The authority in his tone left no room for argument, and you obeyed, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Boothill's hands moved to your hips, guiding you into position. The cool metal of his fingers squeezed your ass, possessive and demanding, as he pressed you forward, your chest flattening against the cold wall.

"I want to have my ways with ya, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to be in your cookie so ducking much."

Boothill’s hands slid down your body, his touch firm and possessive. He reached the hem of your short skirt and lifted it, his eyes widening in surprise and delight as he discovered your secret. “Well, well, darlin’,” he drawled, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched your bare pussy, your folds already glistening with slickness. “So that’s the reason your scent was so intoxicating and intense today.”

You weren’t wearing any panties. Your cheeks flushed at his words, but there was no time for embarrassment. 

Boothill’s fingers moved to unfasten his belt, the metallic clink of his buckle echoing in the quiet corridor. He undid his fly and pushed his pants down to his ankles, revealing his metal member, already hard and glinting in the dim light.

His hands returned to your body, spreading your ass cheeks apart.

You felt the cool air against your warm, slick, exposed pussy, and you gasped, biting into your knuckle. 

Boothill’s vibrating fingers teased your entrance, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. “Fuck…”

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So wet and ready for daddy.” He slid two of his fingers inside you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. 

Your forehead pressed against the cold wall, your hands splayed out for support as you arched your back, offering yourself to him completely. 

Boothill’s fingers moved with expert precision, stroking and teasing your warm, spongy walls until you were trembling with need. His thumb was pressed against your clit, rubbing it ever so slightly. 

The sound of Boothill's fingers moving in and out of you was a wet, obscene symphony that filled the air with the undeniable evidence of your arousal. Each slick, squelching noise echoed through the quiet corridor, a testament to just how drenched your hole had become under his expert touch.

And you weren’t ashamed in the slightest.

After a few agonizingly pleasurable moments, he withdrew his fingers, slick with your arousal. He brought them to his metal member, spreading your wetness over the shaft as a makeshift lubricant. 

You gasped and mewled at the sight, looking at him above your shoulder.

With a predatory grin, Boothill brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting your wetness. He hummed in satisfaction, his metal member twitching upwards in anticipation. “Delicious,” he murmured, his voice a dark, velvety whisper. “You taste as good as you smell.”

Boothill positioned himself behind you, the tip of his metal member pressing against your slimy entrance. 

The vibrations of his cock were subtle but unmistakable, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation already. 

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pushed forward, the metal shaft sliding into you, inch by inch, with a slow, deliberate motion as he guided his metal cock upwards into the opening of your vagina.

When he bottomed out, you moaned in pure ecstasy. His cold, heavy balls pressed tightly against your ass. The combined sensations were overwhelming, and you could feel yourself spiraling out of control. “B-Boothill!” 

Boothill groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself completely inside you. “Yeah, darlin’. You feel so freaking good,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “So tight and perfect f’me.”

He began to move, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your entire being. His hands roamed over your body, one hand slipping around you to tease your clit while the other held you firmly in place. The vibrations of his member buried deep inside you, combined with the relentless pace of his thrusts and how painfully your walls had to stretch to accommodate his girth, pushed you closer to the edge.

“Smack me, smack me!" you pleaded urgently. Pressed against the cold wall, your chest flattened more against the unforgiving surface as you could feel every inch of him vibrating  inside you, his metal shaft filling you completely.

Boothill grinned widely and gave you a sharp smack on your right cheek, leaving a red mark in the shape of his hand on the meat of your ass. 

Your back arched, and you went rigid, a cry strangled in your throat and your pussy spasmed around his cock, gripping it so tight it was almost painful. "Again," you gave a strangled cry. “Fuck, spank me ass again!”

Boothill spanked your ass, this time harder than before. And then he did it again, and again, and again. 

Your ass was completely red, and throbbed with a fiery heat, the skin flushed and sensitive from all the spanking. 

As Boothill trailed the metal pads of his fingers over your tender cheeks, a sharp jolt of sensation shot through you, causing you to whimper and instinctively jerk upwards.

“Yeah!” you moaned, not caring at all that someone could have heard your desperate sounds. “Oh, fuck, yeah, I’m gonna cum soon.”

As you were pressed against the cold wall while your boyfriend fucked your tight cunny hard, a funny yet strange thought crossed your mind: Boothill, your beloved man, was serving as a good vibrator. The absurdity of the thought made you want to laugh, but the relentless sensations coursing through your body as he kept on fucking you quickly snuffed out any amusement.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Just like that, Booty!” The intensity of his movements was overwhelming, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. “Fuck me hard!” 

His metal hips were pistoning into yours, the tip of his metal cock kissing your cervix with each of his thrusts. Boothill’s pace quickened, each thrust more forceful than the last, your bodies moving in perfect sync as you rolled your hips to meet all of his thrusts. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a dark, possessive whisper. “Every part of you belongs to me.”

The words sent a thrill through you, your body responding to his claim with a shudder of pleasure. You cried out once more, flaring your nostrils, breathing fiercely in and out in quick spurts like a woman in labour easing the pain, trying to relax. Your cunt started gripping and releasing his cock in a fierce rhythm. You were nearing your orgasm.

Boothill’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your warm flesh as he drove his cock into your tight pussy fast enough to push all of the air out of your lungs. The amplified vibrations of his metal member, combined with the force of his thrusts, pushed you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Come for daddy,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “Come on my ducking iron rod, darlin’!”

The words were your undoing. With a final, shuddering cry, your pussy pulsated around him, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as your velvety walls clamped convulsively around his metal shaft still buried deep within your drenched hole. 

Boothill’s thrusts became sloppy, and his body shuddered against yours as he grunted. With a deep, guttural groan, he reached his own climax. 

You felt his metal member twitch inside you as he released his thick seed, the sensation unlike anything you had ever experienced. His semen quickly blended with your runny cum.

Boothill's metal member twitched one final time, shooting the last ropes of cum within you before he began to withdraw. 

The sensation of his cock leaving your pussy with a pop sound sent another shiver down your spine, and you gasped, your body trembling from the aftershocks of your shared climax, making you pant loudly. “Oh holy shit…”

As Boothill pulled out, the mixture of your releases began to dribble down your thighs, the combined fluids glistening in the dim light of the corridor. He stood back for a moment, his dark eyes taking in the sight of you — shaking, breathless, and utterly spent. A dark, satisfied smile played on his lips as he watched the evidence of your intense sex trickle down your legs after he cupped your ass cheeks and spread them wider, watching your beautiful, abused pussy still clenching but this time around nothing.

After he pulled his trousers back up and adjusted them, he gave your ass one last spank. "Darlin', you seem distracted," Boothill murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "What’s on your mind?"

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. "I’ve been just thinking... how you're really good at... multitasking," you managed to say, improving your hair and pulling your skirt down. “I didn’t know your fingers could vibrate too.”

Boothill chuckled, the sound a low, mechanical rumble coming deep within his chest. "Well, darlin', I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and pride. "Glad to see you're enjoyin' the multitasking." He leaned in closer, pecking your cheek, and moving to your ear to whisper, "Those fingers can do a lot more than just vibrate, you know. But now that I’m back, I aim to show you every last one of their talents."

[hellinistical]

Soft kisses and chattin' with that charming galaxy ranger,

WC: 358

Warnings: Afab reader.

“Well fork me.”

It came out quiet, a puff of smoke leaving his lips as he stared at the scenic view before him. The fields looked like they went on forever and ever, and the grasses were sure to be soft, not unlike his homeland. There were a couple of trees here and there, the peaks of spring evident in their blooms. Soft pinks, baby blues, and warm oranges painted the sky and-

“Looks like a damn painting is what it is.”

He stretches, and Boothill can't remember the last time that he had a moment of peace like this. His hand hits you- he forgot he wasn’t alone.

“How d’ya like the view, dollface? Ain’t she quite the site? Off the grid, too. None of them short-eating muddle fudgers would ever think to come here.”

You laugh. He didn’t need his synesthesia beacon when he was with you; there was no language barrier. The galaxy ranger had just gotten used to the filter- much to his despair.

“You’re still gonna talk like that?”

“Yeah well, I’m working on it.”

He sits up, taking a deep breath before he turns to you. His bangs are out of his face for once, and by God, he is pretty.

But he sees your staring, and can’t help but look away, his ears pink.

“Stop yer starin’. You’re gonna make me a mess.”

“Nope.”

You scoot closer, brushing some of the loose grass that got stuck in his hair away before brushing your thumbs against the two moles under his eye. His skin was hot under your hand, so unlike the cool metal of his body.

“Wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“This lipgloss is strawberry.”

“And why's that- mmph!”

His hands go to your waist, pulling you closer as your lips shove against his. The gloss smears, sticky and sweet onto him.

But he pulls away.

“Son of a nice Lady- what's that for?”

“Cause I felt like it.”

He looks at you like you said the stupidest thing ever.

“Darlin’...what? Not that I'm complainin’ or anything but-”

“Do you want my kisses or not, ranger?”

“I do.”

“Then shut up.”

[sugar-phoenix]

𖥔 . overheating . 𖥔

synopsis: you're out on an operation with Boothill, and after a long battle and a quick getaway, you turn to realize that the cyborg cowboy is...overheating. With all the implications that come with that. tags: f!reader (Boothill refers to reader as "Lady" and "Missy" once), no smut, fluff, light romance a/n: 1.3k words, wrote this in a craze based off of a headcanon that @k9wa and @nvuy posted about! tickled my brain too much!

ao3 link here!

The sound of gunshots rang out in the night. You ducked in your getaway vehicle, a hover car illegally outfitted with nitrogen turbo boosters. Sticking our head out of the car every now and then, you aimed your pistol at the heads of IPC guards, knocking them dead left and right.

Boothill had been inside the IPC base for a while now. It was supposed to be a quick job. He only needed to run in, download the secret data straight to one of the USB ports on his hip, and then run out. Probably nailing an IPC soldier or ten in the head while he was there.

“Boothill,” you muttered, “where are you?”

You met the cowboy only once before this operation — he had sought you out as a fellow Ranger against the IPC for your getaway vehicle.

“’M gonna be lootin’ a pretty big IPC base, ‘n I need some kinda escape route,” he drawled. “You git me?”

You happily agreed. Why not? Anything that would be a loss for the IPC was a win for you.

Not to mention the cyborg cowboy was one of the finer men you’d come across in your travels.

Presently, you shook that thought out of your mind and fired a shot at another guard. It’s better to stay clear-headed when you’re in a shootout. Any unholy thoughts were perfectly fine to sift through in safer, calmer settings.

“Where is that dang cowboy?” you muttered again for the fifth time.

A hoot and a holler rang through the air, and you glanced towards the entrance. As though in answer to your question, Boothill emerged from within the base, running full gallop towards the vehicle.

“Start drivin,’” he ordered as he slid into the passenger seat.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you replied as more IPC soldiers spilled out of the entrance. The engine roared as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

“Ugh, turn up the A/C,” Boothill groaned.

“Turn ‘em up yourself, cowboy,” you responded. “I’m too busy making sure we’re getting away.”

The cyborg reached towards the dashboard and rotated the knob to the coolest possible setting. He leaned back into his seat, huffing and panting.

“All good?”

“Yeah. ‘S just a lot of fighting. Got me worked up.” He sniffed. “This dang A/C ain’t cool enough for me.”

You shrugged, checking the rearview mirror. The IPC vehicles were hot on your heels.  Thankfully, that wasn’t a problem for you. As an expert driver, you were fully trained in the art of evasive maneuvers. It’s what the cowboy hired you to do, after all.

You sped into the nearby city, a metropolis that conveniently had many twisty alleys and tight turns.

“This’ll be a piece of cake. Don’t you worry, cowboy,” you chuckled. The cowboy didn’t answer, and you were too busy focused on the road to check on him.

Drifting through intersections and jumping across lanes, you managed to throw off the majority of the IPC squadron pursuing you. There were only three small hover vehicles left, chasing you through a single-lane alleyway. You revved your engine to taunt them and cackled as the reverberations echoed off the buildings on either side.

The hovercar drifted, fishtailing as you made a sharp turn to the right. You swore as the sound of screaming metal rang out in the air, signaling that your spoilers had scraped against the walls.

“That’s gonna cost ya, cowboy,” you quipped, smiling as you saw two of the three vehicles crash into the wall behind you.

“Lady, I ain’t at fault for your drivin’ skills.”

You snapped your head towards Boothill, giving him a full-on death glare.

“Not that you drive bad, missy! I was just sayin,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender. It was then that you realized he’d unzipped his jacket, letting it fall lazily off his shoulders.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you snapped your attention back to the road, trying to evade the last IPC hover vehicle. A few quick turns and an IPC crash later, you pulled into a dark alleyway and braked, turning off the car.

“Why are we stoppin’?” Boothill asked.

“They’re probably swarming the city. Best to lie low for now until it all subsides.”

There was shuffling in the passenger seat, and you turned to look.

Boothill laid back against the seat, his limbs sprawled out. His bangs were arranged in wet clumps, and sweat gleamed off his face in the glow from distant neon signs. The rest of his long hair was put up along the headrest behind him, leaving his neck bare. His jacket, bandana, and hat were thrown in the back, leaving his upper torso bare for all the world to see. His pants were shrugged low on his hip, almost revealing his unmentionables (did cyborgs even have unmentionables?). Panting and huffing, he closed his eyes, frowning. You could hear a loud hum emanate from within his robot body.

“Boothill?” you croaked, fighting to speak through the feeling of your brain frying in your skull. It wasn’t just his appearance that was, well, hot, but a boiling heat was radiating off of him. You had hardly noticed in all the earlier action.

“Yes, darlin’?” He groaned. Your heart fluttered at the way he said darlin.’

“What. Are you doing?” You hardly thought the cowboy was one to give in to his darker desires at the drop of a hat, although there was something off about the scene that told you it wasn’t motivated by lust.

He chuckled before answering.

“Told ya I got worked up during that fight. I’m overheatin.’ One of the problems with having a robot body, ya get me?” Boothill breathed out heavily, his breath steaming in the air. “Fudge,” he muttered, closing his eyes and frowning again.

“Are you in pain?” you asked. His stance was akin to a man tortured, impaled from the back with hot iron spears.

“Nah, darlin,’ nothin’ like that. Just… hot, is all. Really fudgin’ hot.” Boothill let out a breath of steam again. “It’ll go away, like it always does. I jus’ need ta’ keep still for a lil’ bit. Let it cool down.”

You leaned over him, trying to ignore how close you were to his hot (both physically and metaphorically) abs, and pushed the passenger door open. It only went so far as the narrow alleyway let it, but you could feel the cold air of the night wash over you both.

“Thank ya’ kindly, darlin,’” he murmured.

“Don’t mention it,” you said, leaning back. You jumped when your arm brushed over his body.

“Did I burn ya?” Boothill didn’t move but his eyes fixed you with a worried look.

“No, you didn’t, it’s just…” You trailed off, not knowing how to end that sentence without embarrassing yourself. A heat creeped over your cheeks again.

“Oh, I see,” he smiled. “You can touch me if ya want darlin.’ I don’t bite.” He punctuated that sentence with a wide grin, showing off his shark-like teeth.

“But not right now,” he said as you tentatively reached an arm towards him. “Not while I’m hot like this. And it ain’t cause I might burn ya sweetie, but with all due respect, I ain’t wanna touch anything right this moment.”

“Got it,” you said sitting straight back in your seat.

A silence filled the car, gently broken by the whir of Boothill’s internal fans and the ambient hum of the city outside.

It was a comfortable, soft kind of silence. You let it soak into your flesh, down to your bones, etching this moment inside of yourself. It was nice.

“’Course, when I’m not overheatin,” Boothill murmured, “you’re free to touch whatever.” He grinned mischievously.

“Stop it,” you said. “You’re gonna make me overheat.”

dividers by cafekitsune

[crystalcerberus]

Boothill x Fem!Reader – Period Relief

Boothill Taking Care of a Female Reader with Period Pain

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows across the walls. Boothill sat on the edge of the bed, his expression a mix of concern and determination as he looked at you. You lay curled up, clutching your abdomen, the pain of your period almost unbearable.

"Can’t you just shoot me? Or at least cut out my womb?" you half-joked, half-pleaded, a grimace on your face.

His expression immediately turned serious and worried. He knew you were feeling frustrated and in pain, but the thought of you wanting to harm yourself like that alarmed him. He gently turned you around so that you were facing him. He took your face in his hands and made you look directly into his eyes.

"Doll, don’t talk like that. Don’t ever think about doin’ somethin’ like that, okay? I ain’t gonna let you hurt yourself like that, you hear me?"

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "Thank you."

He held your gaze for a moment longer, his hands still on your face. He wanted to make sure you understood the seriousness of his words. Then, his expression softened, and a gentle smile formed on his face.

"You’re welcome, doll. Just don’t you ever talk like that again, alright? I don’t wanna hear nothin’ about you hurtin’ yourself. You’re worth too much to even think about somethin’ like that. Understand?"

You nodded slightly, trying to hold back tears. "sigh I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to suffer every month!"

His expression turned sympathetic as he heard your sob and your frustrated words. He knew that periods could be painful and uncomfortable, and he could see how much they affected you.

"I know, darlin’. I know it ain’t fun. It sucks goin’ through it every single month. But you’re a strong lil thing, ain’t ya? You ain’t gonna let a lil thing like this get the best of ya, huh?"

"But what’s the point if I’m gonna suffer again the next month?"

He paused for a moment, his hand hovering over your lower abdomen. He could hear the resignation in your voice, the defeated tone of your words. He took a deep breath before speaking again, his tone gentle yet firm.

"Darlin’, there’s always gonna be somethin’ that’ll cause you pain. Ain’t no way around it. But that doesn’t mean you gotta give up."

You groaned, frustration evident in your voice. "Why can’t I just be a cyborg like you? Then I'd never have this pain ever again!"

Boothill's expression turned serious, his eyes hardening slightly. "Believe me, doll. You don’t want this. Being a cyborg ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, you won’t have to deal with nothin’ like this anymore, but you’ll miss out on a lot of things, too. Things that make you human. Things that make you you!"

He began to rub your lower abdomen in slow, circular motions, his touch gentle yet firm. "You gotta be strong. You gotta keep goin’."

You scoffed lightly, trying to hold back a smile despite the pain.

He chuckled at your scoff, a hint of amusement in his expression.

He continued rubbing your lower abdomen, his touch soothing the worst of the cramps. The steady pressure helped ease the pain, if only a little.

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "It still hurts, you know."

"I know, doll. But you’re strong. You’ll get through this, just like you always do."

You nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease out of your body. Boothill’s presence, his words, and his touch made it a bit more bearable. You opened your eyes and met his gaze, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Thanks, Boothill. For being here."

"Always, darlin’. Always."

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and reassuring. As he continued to comfort you, the pain seemed a little more manageable, and you felt a bit more at peace.

[vxlkirayaxo]

Thinking about hoyoverse men who meet your parent(s) for the first time

•They don't know if they should take their shoes off or not and if they do where to put them

•They practically clingy to you in fear of touching or bumping something and offending your guardian

•at supper time they sit next to you immediately and copy all your movements so he knows if he has to pray or not

•after dinner when the baby photos come out they can almost feel the embarrassment coming off of you and don't look unless someone points

•when your guardian wants to talk to them alone silent pleas of mercy come out of his mouth even if he isn't religious

•The sigh of relief they let out is almost loud enough to be heard in a different country once you two go into the car after saying goodbyes

ART BLOCK AND WRITERS BLOCK HIT ME AHHHGUIAHHAH

[heavenlyraindrops]

ʙᴏᴏᴛʜɪʟʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ——> ᴘᴛ. 2

warnings: sexual content, dry humping, fingering, afab!reader, female anatomy reader

A/N: I wrote this ages ago and I was just horny, that was literally my only motivation so here take this ig

You scrambled at Boothill’s shoulders for support as you sat in his lap, panting as his lips trailed down your neck. Your underwear was drenched, slick with your juices as you desperately humped him, soft whimpers and moans escaping you as he watched you with a half-lidded, amused smile. 

“Why don’t you,” you gasped in between feverish kisses to his jaw, “M-move?”

He chuckled, and your core burned. He tipped his head back, eyes following your every movement and making you tense with self-consciousness. 

“Nah.” His gaze traveled up and down your body, slowly undressing you with his eyes as you squirmed in his lap. “I prefer watching.”

You bit your lip to suppress a whimper. 

His hands slid to your waist, then your hips, burning cold through the fabric of your clothes. “Plus,” he murmured, moving you subtly against his crotch and making you shudder, “I’m sure a pretty girl like you could make yourself cum without my help.” You caught a glimpse of his tongue run over his teeth, hungrily. His hands fell away and he sat back again. “Go on, sweetheart. Make yourself cum.” 

You shivered again, slowly rutting into him as he grinned, murmuring praises, metal fingers tangling through your hair. He was hard metal underneath. It didn’t faze you. 

Your hand traveled up again, towards his jaw, and he flushed before pulling it away. “No hands, sugar.” 

His hands grabbed your hips again, repositioning you on his thigh. You tore your shirt off, pulling it away from your heated body hastily as you bucked your hips again, pace quickening. Desire pulsated through you in waves, intensifying as he pressed his forehead to yours, letting out a soft huff of laughter that tickled your face. “You wanna be good for me?” His voice was low, husky, even. 

“Y-yeah,” you managed to choke out. 

“Then do what I told you,” and pressed a soft kiss to your neck. 

A few thrusts later, his name whispered from your lips amongst pants and moans- “Ngh, Boothill, please-“ and you came undone, whimpering into his neck as waves of pleasure rocked through you, body turning limp yet still quaking from the pleasure. You looked up at him.

“Was I good?” Your voice shook. He bit his lip.

“Perfect,” came the reply.

He pushed you off, and you stood up before he pulled you back in. Your legs shook in the half-light as he clutched the back of your thighs, looking up at you. “Glad I saw you in that bar,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Lookin’ so pretty…” he peppered a few more kisses, going lower. A hand slipped between your thighs, teasing the damp fabric of your panties. You flinched at the touch and buried your hands in his hair as his fingers skilfully pushed the cloth aside, stroking a path along your entrance. You seized up, whimpering as a cold finger delved in, sensations swirling through your heat and down your legs. Droplets of your own arousal dripped down your inner thighs, and you tried to clench them together but Boothill’s grip tightened like a warning. 

“Relax,” he hushed, but you couldn’t as another finger pushed it’s way inside, the first one curling. You flinched, jerking your hips against his hand and he smiled at your reaction, a deft flick of his digits inside you making your knees buckle.  

“One more time?”

You nodded breathlessly.

[alekthefox]

Overheating

Boothill fic because I'm OBSESSED!

Have you noticed he has some sort of large plug socket on the small of his back? Mmmmmmmmmmm I have ideas~

(Do tell me in the comments what person you prefer to read in, first person, second person, third person. I really don't know. I just roleplay a lot so this is the type I'm most used to.)

Tags: Boothill has nerve-like sensors on his body, he can indeed overheat, teasing, banter, mention of alcohol, rough Boothill, failed smut (he stops so he doesn't hurt reader) Pairing: Boothill x gender neutral reader (not trailblazer+no mention of lower private parts), 3rd person Context for reader: The reader is a bounty hunter who occasionally teams up with Boothill. They waited outside the workshop for Boothill to be repaired. That reckless man might be good at dodging bullets, even dancing in the crossfire, but a well timed grenade tore him apart. Luckily, his pretty face is unharmed. After several hours he came out. They were on their phone, checking the transaction that just came in as a reward for their work. "Fifty, just as agreed upon. Wanna get a drink, big guy?" Fifty million credits was very little to bounty hunters. It should have been an easy job, like a little thrill-seeking. But this dumbass of a man has no sense of safety. They got away with just a few scrapes unlike him. "You invitin' me on a date, eh?" "Hah, you wish." "Aw, you wound me~ at least let me buy you a drink." They rolled their eyes and started walking, expecting him to follow, and that he did. Not only that but he gracefully passed them like a skilled dancer, walking ahead. Their eyes traced over his literally sculpted body. The man not only chose to make himself have NO ass, but also metal fucking abs... and a jacket that covered nothing. But... there was some sort of exposed hole on the small of his back. A plug socket? It was too large to logically be for anything they can recognize. Out of impulse they put a hand on his back, which he didn't mind, smirking. That smirk was soon to drop. Their hand slid down the middle of his back until their fingers slowly traced the rim of socket. He stopped walking, his back arched and he covered his mouth. He stumbled forwards before spinning around and grabbing their wrist harshly. "What the fudge do you think you're doin'?" Well, that was an unexpected reaction. If that part was so sensitive, why was it exposed? "Curiosity killed the cat. I didn't expect you to be such a whore, exposing a sensitive part for everyone to see." "Well nobody thinks to fudging touch it. I'm gettin' real tired of yer teasin'. Always got yer eyes on my body, always sneakin' in small touches, leanin' in close, stealing my hat--which I'd kill people over-- it's fudgin' annoyin'!" "I plead guilty~." At the mention of his hat they reach up with the unbound hand but he leans away, still holding their wrist. Now the grip gets tighter. Cold, metal fingers like a deadly vice, locked joints so there isn't a way to escape it. He might leave bruises at this point. He turns them around and grabs both wrists to pin them behind their back, pushing them against the nearest wall. The display attracts attention from strangers. Nobody stops to form a crowd, but eyes are certainly on the two of them. They laugh. "Either tell me to stop or do something about it, cowboy." "Fudge."

He presses them against the wall with his body. But his body isn't cold... They can hear the fan inside his torso spinning loudly, the metal heated. He's flustered. His voice is gravely in their ear. "Can't tell if I wanna shut ya up or make you scream." "Well make a choice, big guy. Leave, take me to the bar, or take me to private place." Boothill huffs then hesitantly lets go of them and starts walking. It's unclear which he chose but he did stop to see if they're following so the choice isn't 'leave'. They follow, eyes trailing over his body again, never getting enough. It's his carefully constructed body, it's the way he moves through the crowds, those heels that are actually a part of his legs--of course they are--and the...

He lead them to a hotel. A quite nice hotel. They smile wide with a raised brow. Now this will be interesting. They wonder just what he's got packing seeing as he's literally 90% metal. He pays for a room for one night, and slightly strangely, the next day as well. He opens the door for them and places a hand on the small of their back as they both walk in. As soon as he turns to close the door they hug him from behind, feeling up and down his torso. He huffs, his cooled body now heating up again. They swear they see a bit of steam come from his mouth. He places a hand on the wall in front of him as their hands explore his body and eventually land once again on that plug socket. Gently circling the rim, his body grows hotter, his breathing gets heavier. He's letting them do it but they can tell he's barely holding back. They put a soft kiss between his shoulders as two fingers slip into the hole to see how deep it goes. It goes about to the second knuckle and the moment their fingers brush the end he bends forwards to hit his head on the wall. "That feel good?" He doesn't respond with words, instead with haste he turns around and grabs their hair and pulls them into a bruising kiss. His other hand grips their hip, pulling their bodies against each other. Knowing very well how sharp his teeth are he gently bites their lip. Then he moves onto their neck, leaving kisses, sucking on the skin, and sometimes biting just enough to leave tiny marks of a shark bite. The hickeys aren't enough to mark them, anyone can leave hickeys, but the bites are his mark without a doubt. He wants everyone to know who they belong to. Their hand sneaks to his back again, abusing that sensitivity. He really, truly, growls in their ear and recklessly bites their neck hard. Their entire body reacts to the pain. He apologetically licks the blood off, savoring the taste of iron in it. He's uncharacteristically silent. Luckily he had enough of clarity to bite more towards the shoulder.

They tug on his belt which is an extremely dangerous game. "You want it off? Do it yourself, baby."

URGH, this man is so damn annoying yet so damn hot. They start with the belt, then pants, then underwear, one after the other. But before they can look down Boothill spins them around as if they weigh nothing to him, once again they're pressed chest first into the wall. They protest by pushing back into him. Which is an extremely smart move because then they feel it. It feels like... a silicone dildo. How the fuck can there be nerve-like sensors inside silicone? Then again... how can they be in metal as well? Buuuut then again a lot of planets around the cosmos have different levels of technological advancements. Now was indeed not the time to dwell on the logic of it. Especially as his hand went from their hip to underneath their shirt and up their torso. Cold fingers pinched the left nipple as his teeth grazed their neck. After he was satisfied with their reactions, their sounds, his hand moved lower, his body pressing them into the wall out of excitement, his body almost scalding hot. Just as his hand was to reach there he stops and backs away abruptly. They whine and turn around only to see his head is hanging low, hat obscuring most of his face. Some of the plates on his body have shifted to be ajar for the literal steam to come out, fan whirring loudly. "Well fudge... Had to stop so I don't burn ya. I promise, when I cool down, I'll take care of ya. I swear it."

Author's notes: I am not fucking sorry for ending it like this. Suffer. :)

[boundinparchment]

Kinetic Harvest

“I ain’t got the money. Not now. But with your…assistance, I can make it worth your while. Consider me a lifetime customer.”

You put the bullet back on your desk, a peace offering. He took it back and tucked it away, gun still trained on you.

“I don’t work on those who threaten me.”

Boothill/Gender Neutral Reader oneshot. Can be read as a pairing or not. Dottore reference if you squint. Not beta read.

Leaks used as a base, read at your own discretion. On AO3 here.

Reblogs are appreciated.

Desperation drove most to your doorstep, trembling as their bellies stoked fires so strong they made suns pale in comparison. Their eyes darted, assessing the clean office and workshop, as if they were wondering the validity of the rumors. A back-alley mechanic who took the money of criminals, crooks, and high society alike had to certainly have signs of that wealth. Or perhaps they thought morality was tied to cleanliness.

You cared not.

And they only cared whether you could fix their problem.

It made for a very convenient workflow.

But the man who sat before you was a deviation from that norm. He was surefooted, a little curious in the way his head turned to gaze about the darkened space. His eyes lingered not on you but on the prosthetic arm you kept behind your desk, the finger joints extended and the gun attachment on the wrist popped out, unloaded.

Never gave his name but you liked his drawl. You’d heard it from folks in a distant system. Aeragan-Epharshel was an ancient land, home to a language as old as the green plains and permafrosted mountains and dusty canyons; you were certain your mentor would have loved it there. So much to explore and learn from those who came before.

The stranger told you a story of a boy who grew up taming horses and identifying plants. Caring for everything around him. Isolated though the planet was, it was not without a law of entropy and a reciprocity that few ever even knew existed anymore. Of a child whose smile lit up a room like the sun itself.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his eyes when he stood a bullet up on your desk. In the glint of the lamplight, you caught three letters: IPC.

The one party you never took funding or clients from. The Interstellar Peace Corporation was, quite ironically, stood for the exact opposite, in your opinion.

“You specialize in cybernetics,” the man tilted his head as he leaned back in his seat. The wood squeaked. “And rumor has it, you go beyond the usual…modifications. I ain’t done in this universe ‘til that bullet is buried in the skull of the leech that sucks planets dry.”

His words were pinched tight by this teeth, jaw on edge. This man, this stranger off the streets, knew what he wanted and you wondered how many others in your profession turned him away. Plenty would. There was a liability in taking the human form too far, both ethically and bureaucratically. Too much red tape, too much diffusing of pre-conceived notions.

No wonder your mentor chose the path of eternal funding and embraced his legacy.

“Before you tell me, ‘No’,” the man drawled. “Know that I have endured harsher summers and brutal winters than most o’ your so-called patients, doc. I can handle what needs to be done.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you replied, fingers reaching for the bullet and holding it up to the light.

Those who were so glued to their convictions made for difficult clients, though. They were stubborn.

Worse, really, you reminded yourself as you looked up and noticed the barrel of a gun staring back at you. No one would stand between a hunter and his prey.

“I ain’t got the money. Not now. But with your…assistance, I can make it worth your while. Consider me a lifetime customer.”

You put the bullet back on your desk, a peace offering. He took it back and tucked it away, gun still trained on you.

“I don’t work on those who threaten me.”

A second, and then two, before he clicked his teeth and holstered the weapon. He gestured with open hands to demonstrate he was unarmed and then folded them in his lap.

“You’ll have a difficult road ahead,” you advised. “Years of assembly.“

“A full cybernetic body that preserves my noggin and my perfect eyesight is hardly unreasonable. It’s been done. Everyone knows you studied hidden away from the Aeons, under the Heretic. He’s dead, o’ course, but if I were a gamblin’ man…”

“You don’t strike me the type.”

“I ain’t,” the words came out strained, frustrated with a huff of breath. “A waste o’ money and time. Frivolous. All I’m sayin’ is…if I wanted the easy way out, I wouldn’t be here. I know what I’m signin’ up for.”

Your eyes traced his haggard face, white hair with tinges of black that had seen better days, a muscular frame trimmed a little too lean in places due to malnutrition. A hat more pristine than his dusty pants.

“Lay down over on the table,” you jerked your head in the direction of the vivisection table off to the side of your workshop. “We’ll start with your measurements.”

The man let out a slow exhale, one you didn’t dare attribute to relief. He rose with a steadiness you recognized only in those who trusted in their abilities and convictions, who would succeed not just through skill but by the cognitive bias that they embraced with every fiber of their being.

“Just promise me one thing, cowboy,” you said, collecting a tablet from your desk.

He turned, weight shifted to cock his hip impatiently.

“I don’t want your money. But when we’re done, you’ll tell me your name. I want to know what to call the one who succeeds in gutting the IPC.”

He smiled, crooked and charming, and you wondered if you ever saw eyes sparkle like that in this office before.

“It’s a deal, doc.”