#boothill scenarios

[trappolia]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

eh, an old cowboy can have his dreams.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.3k - boothill finds you digging around in junk and then offers you a gift he hopes you won't refuse... [plsdontflopplsdontflopplsdont-]

the heavy metal clinking of boothill's foot steps clank their way to your shop's door. an all too familiar door he'd always find himself going up to whenever he was in need of repair- big or small. the swiveling security camera you keep at your entrance blinks with red-lit life and moves to start following his movements as soon as he enters it's field of vision.

who knows if you're ever actually paying attention to the camera feed or not though. you can be careless like that. sometimes you're just out- couldn't be bothered or could care less about the remote feed linked directly to your phone. other times, you're so focused on some project you neglect it entirely.

based on the sign hanging on your shop's door he was familiar with- it seemed that this time in particular you were out.

boothill didn't need to know how to write- much less read well- to take a wild gander as to where you had wondered off to. putting his spring loaded and metal jointed hands on his slim waist, his chin dips with an amused chuckle and shake of his head. the cowboy lifts the toe of his mechanical boot and twists his body fully 'round; his spurs scrapping across the ground during his lazy about-face. with one foot in front of the other and thumbs hooked through the hollow crops of his trousers, the galaxy ranger makes his way towards the junk yard.

it would never occur to the standard person to spend their free time digging around a scrap yard filled with junk thrown out for a reason- but you were anything but standard. if you weren't tinkering around in your shop or finishing up a repair or commission, you were scrounging around the grounds for material or 'hidden treasure'... which was key for just slightly more valuable junk.

a typical haul for you would be a few pieces of scrap metal you could use for wielding, the rare unstripped screw or loose gaggle of bolts, and all sorts of wire. if it saved you a few credits by finding material instead of buying them, you weren't one to argue with free trash.

passing under the wire-metal gate leading into the fenced-off territory, his thumbs still tucked into his pant legs, his ears stay sharp. listening for any sound of you digging around in some heap while his head swivels back and forth to try and catch a glimpse of you.

"ey, sugar, you around!" boothill shouts, one of his hands detaching from his hips to cup around his mouth. he wanders further in, gets more ground, before calling out the same sentence a second time. shaking his head in bewilderment on how far in you had gone digging, he goes even further still and tries calling out a third time.

"here!" you finally answer back. your voice echoes around him, bouncing off the scrap metal and spooking the rats and other critters that call the junk yard home. his head turns in the direction of your voice, the way his body leans towards it before his feet start carrying him that way never took notice in his own mind.

eventually, he makes it to you. squat down to the ground, under the rusty remains of some poor saps long eroded escape pod from whatever solar system they crashed in from. he crosses his arms, then his ankles, leaning his metal shoulder on the ruined dome you were digging under.

the ranger had no idea how long you had been out here, but judging by the half full bag you kept on your shoulder and the grease sticking to your neck and exposed skin he could guess it's been a bit. he chuckles when you dig out a rusted, broken pipe of... something, before tossing it over your shoulder with a disappointed click of your tongue and looking up at him. your cheeks had some gunk on it too, probably from you wiping the back of your gloves on it.

"fancy diggin' around in junk?"

"it's not all junk."

"the fudge it aint," he scoffs. to him, it absolutely was all junk. "this aint called the dang junk yard for nothin, sugar."

"it's a scrap yard."

"stubborn-bottom." you move to stand up, clapping your gloved hands together before taking them off so you could use your hands more freely. "good to see ya took my advice and startin' wearing some forkin' gloves around here." he eyes around at all the rust and sharp metal. "gonna get tetanus or somethin', and we can't have that."

"im liable to get tetanus from you before anything else," you joke so straight-faced it didn't feel like a joke. his crossed arms drop along with his jaw and his stance straightens as he uncrosses his ankles.

"ey', i aint as forkin' filthy as you pretend i am, and you know it." you shrug with a half smirk that was so dismissive he was tempted to keep arguing. you push the goggles you were wearing over your eyes to avoid getting anything in them and possible irritation onto your forehead. seeing the contrast between your sweaty, grease and dirt marked skin and the clean skin that was protected under the goggles had him scoff. "yer filthier than i am, by the look of things."

you roll your eyes and move to climb out of the rusty treasure trove of junk you had deemed no longer having anything of value. reaching out, boothill offers you his hand. you take it easily as he starts pulling you up and out to stand in front of him. your hand drops from his when you stand safely in his bubble, and he isn't sure if you know how close you are or not.

your nose is always so focused in tinkering around or messing with work that you can't always... read the room so to speak. its endearing, until it gets frustrating anyway.

"so, what're you here for this time? need something fixed again- i swear if you already burned through that new servo i replaced a month ago, im going to take off your arm and you won't get it back for a week."

"well, that's awful sweet of you." you knew by his dry tone and sneered lips that exposed his sharp teeth that the word sweet was definitely supposed to be a different five-letter word starting with 's'. one that his broken beacon (which you refuse to fix out of entertainment) wouldn't allow him to say.

"seems like an appropriate consequence to me, considering i don't charge you for repairs."

"i ain't here for not goose-dud repair," he hisses. "i had planned on givin' ya somethin', but based on your sweet attitude i aint so sure about it now."

"you brought me something?" he nods. "from a different solar planet?" he could see the curiosity start to ignite in your eyes. he nods again. you stuff your gloves into a pouch in your pants that he swears you've sewed another pocket into, before you're marching away from him and towards the entrance he had marched from at the beginning of this search. "well come on, let's get a moving!" you shout over your shoulder.

his synthetic voice chuckles at your back. eagerly waltzing after you.

boothill soon finds himself sitting with his knees apart and comfortably lounging with his arms on the back of your worn-down, two-cushioned couch the moment you two got back to the shop. he had taken himself to your quote- reception room, as he waited for you to unload your finds from the junkyard (meaning you just took your bag, flipped it upside and let its content spill out unceremoniously onto your worktable before you would eventually sort through it at a later time).

the tapping of his metal toes against your floor echoed dully against the rug under the sofa as you soon made your way to stand in front of him, hands on your hips and an expectant look in your eyes. flicking the brim of his hat cheekily to get a better look up at you, he lifted his chin.

"my attention is yours," you dramatically sigh, hands flaring to your sides before bouncing back against your legs.

"im flattered, sugar," he jests back. still, he shifts. the small pouch he had strung to his belt that was home to his array of extra fire rounds was soon detached from him. the string of which was used to tie it to him previously, hangs lazily from his metal fingertips. with a raised, semi-skeptical brow, you carefully take it off his hands.

"if this is some sort of prank," you warn. his hands raise in the air with his elbows still resting comfortably on the back of the cushions he was leaning against, gesturing that he meant no harm.

slowly- cautiously- you pull open the bag and remove two different items that had been nestled safely inside.

tossing the now empty bag onto the couch next to boothill's leg, you took each item into one hand and looked between them. one was a small crystal that was no larger than the center of your palm. shining a swirling color of green and blue, you could only imagine that it would look even prettier properly polished and with a light shining behind it. in the other was a small box, one that could be opened with a rusty lid. giving it a small rattle revealed something to be inside. doing so revealed a small robot that had been covered in rust, missing a robotic arm and wires spilling out from under the cracked and broken screen that would most definitely have acted as it's face.

"what's all this?" you ask softly. boothill stands from his lackadaisical lounging on your sofa to come and waltz up to your side. he pointed at the robot sitting sadly in the container he had brought him in first.

"i found this lil fella and thought you'd have a gas fixin' him right up. as for that," he points to the crystal of dual-swirling shades next, "accordin' to my scanners, that there's a pretty dadgum power source." boothill takes the small crystal from your palm and hovers it just above the robot. "it suits him, don't it?" he chuckles.

in truth, the slightly dingy looking crystal shard was too magnificent compared to the busted and rusted robot. but, with a bit of work, repair and love, perhaps the color of the crystal really would look nice against polished sheet metal.

"i figure givin' you somethin' else to tinker with would be more... enriching than just your usual forkin' machines." and it could keep you company, but he didn't say that out loud.

when you would get it working like he knew you could, maybe you'd stop and think about him while he was away chasing his reality out as a galaxy ranger. if you could just spare a single thought towards him every day because of a small robot and shiny rock? he'd be tickled pink.

"he's cute," you whisper gently and boothill wonders if you know you said it out loud at all. he chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup the designed dents atop his cowboy hat. taking it off his head, he gently drops it onto yours, gaining your attention back from the gifts he had given you.

the way you lift your eyes to look at him- filled with something akin to excitement and fondness- and gently cradle the small rusty robot with his hat now shadowing your face, he could almost hear the wires in his chest running on turbo. he'd had to cool down asap before he overheated or crashed.

taking a step back- for his own sake- he leaves his hat on your head before patting your back.

"get to it," he softly tells you. you mutely nod, an excited smile breaking out over your lips as you trot towards a different room. it was a small private work space you retreated to for personal projects. boothill was one that was usually allowed inside since this room was where he would get his tune ups most times.

with boothill following your back, he watches you trot to your work bench. you gently set the robot's box down and remove it from inside. the crystal you submerged in a bowl that you soon fill with polish to let it soak. it took all of ten minutes before you're surrounded by tools and wires and equipment made for digital repairs. all the while boothill remade his comfort in a worn-down rocker you kept in the corner, content on staying put until he was forced to leave. whether it by your or by his next bounty.

he couldn't very well leave you with his hat either, even if it looked better on you than him.

the next time boothill comes into your shop after that gift drop off, it wasn't a visit but a proper repair. running out of cooling agent for his internal hardware was just waiting for a disaster to happen. his synthetic-coded laugh burst into the room jollily as when he sat down on the stool he always planted his ass in for repairs, a small, shiny robot- with the cutest digital expressions and a small blue-green swirling crystal placed in the center of its chest- was waddling across your work bench. a vile of blue cooling agent the near size of his small metal body grasped tightly in its robotic arms.

it chirped happily with a digital reverb when you thank it for bringing the coolant over.

boothill was indeed tickled as pink could get seeing you already attached to the lil fella. he wondered what you named it.

a/n: smol robot go beep-boop (i love the idea of mechanic!reader just having a cute lil guy to follow them around like a puppy :(( [big thanks to @/birinboom and my partner for letting me pick their brain on what gifts boothill ended up giving to the reader bc i had no idea lol smooches <3]

[cloudluvrrr]

It was never meant to last.

Boothill x Terminally ill g/n reader

Tw: illness, ANGST, death, dying, me being stupid

g/n reader idk frilly apron mentioned

— I thought of this bc boothill rlly cant die?? In a way so what’s better than a terminally ill lover >_<

-Boothill

-forwards beckon rebound -Adrianne lenker

-

He found you ill

-it was doomed at the start. He found you while traveling, collapsed on the ground.

-he could just leave you there, but you had family.

He knew what it was like to loose family.

— you woke up in a daze, everything blurry and unfamiliar. “..you awake?” You perk up at the sound of his accent and odd voice. “..huh?”

“..I- I- uh found ya, lyin’ in the road. Thought you was dead” he explained standing at the foot of your bed.

He was odd, long hair, made out of metal yet his face was pale. He looked like a cowboy that’s for sure. He avoided your gaze with his hands at his belt

“..I'm alive in a shitty motel”

“Hey!”

"why'd you rescue me?"

He was caught off guard. ‘Why?' he thought it was odd, anyone would be thankful to be rescued.

“You was lying there, I couldn’t leave ya! I bet your families worried, on top of that you’re pale and skinny as a twig!” He said defensively looking over your figure in the bed, that was covered in many blankets

“..well I have no family to worry, and nothing to loose"

You began gently running your fingers along the stitches of the blanket “..I’m ill I’m going to die anyways? Why waste your money on me”

“..yer gonna to die, don’t mean your gonna die now”

“..who are you anyways? Your a cowboy made of metal, flashy clothes, and a human face?” Furrowing your brows as you look over his odd features

“..I’m Boothill member of the galaxy rangers, pleasure to meet you”

—

-that’s where it began, you slowly began to fall for the flashy cowboy, an odd pair.

-he spent his days in the small town helping the sheriff and keep people in place.

He’d settled down.

-you spent your days in bed, looking out the window. Or when you had the strength, you’d cook a small meal.

— “the hell are you doing” he asked gently leading you away from the kitchen, and to the dining room. “Cooking we can’t starve!”

“Not when your like this!" he motioned to your figure "You gotta get better darlin’, here I’ll finish and then you take your medicine”

—

-you hated it, he was out there doing something and all you could do was nothing without having a coughing fit.

-he didn’t mind, he did it all for you. The cooking, cleaning, and giving you medicine.

♡ even if if meant loosing you in the end.

-sometimes he will take you out, on a small walk around the town, a picnic. It wasn’t often but often enough for the both of you.

-your favorite spot was under a weeping willow tree, laying in his lap as you looked up at the sorrowful tree.

-he often cuddled you, he knew he couldn’t offer much comfort or warmth so he cuddled when he had ->

A. A pillow on him & B a blanket.

-you ever wish I wasn't ill

you croaked against the blanket, your tired eyes looking up at him.

"all the damn time, I wanna do everything and anything with ya pretty thing"

he answered his hat over his face

"makes sense, I wanna go out into town more"

letting out a small chuckle you, remove his hat "am I that unsightly you don't wanna look at me?"

"are you stupid! NO!" he replied harshly taking his hat back

"i was just asking" you uttered snuggling into his side

"just...focus on getting better doll"

he sighed giving you a small kiss on the head

-hes so gentle, with anything giving you medicine, brushing your hair, helping you dress, maybe even doing your make up. He doesn't wanna hurt you, more than you already are hurting.

-he'd even share his earrings with you, and you with him.

-at night sharing stories of his own planet, while you played with his fingers

-"and thats when the horse bucked me off" he recalled with a small smile as you began to fall asleep on his shoulder, with your fingers intertwined.

"sweet dreams darlin'"

he said turning down the oil lamp, and kissing your forehead

-when he isn't out, he'll spend the day with you doing domestic chores. Laundry, dishes, dusting, sweeping. All of it

-and to make you laugh he'll wear your frilly apron

--

it was quiet, it was odd. He slightly rushed to the bedroom, to see you staring out of it. Soon you notice

"..I'm dying boothill doctor said I ain't gonna make it to tomorrow"

"what? you told him your restin' taking your medicine-" he listed everything you'd done right before getting cut off "Its terminal, I told you. Nothing can stop it, just hold it off a little longer." you didn't face him

You didn't want him to see the small tears building up

"..so tomorrow you ain't gonna wake up..?" he asked in a somber tone hugging you from behind. Silently respecting your wishes.

"..its the best way to go, no? peacefully in your lovers arms"

"I guess" he replied quietly playing with your hair.

"...I'm scared"

"you wasn't scared of death before"

"That was different Boothill! Now its certain, I'll be gone" you said in a sad tone, squeezing his hand. "..I'll be here though, hold ya through the whole thing ya hear?" he said kissing you neck and rubbing your stomach

-

"sweet dreams darlin'"

he whispered gently into your ear.

Giving you one last sweet kiss on your chapped lips

--

The night ended like any other

Except when morning did come, and you were gone.

He buried you beneath your favorite tree, and left the planet.

With another hole in his mechanical heart

--

hope you enjoyed !

this one was quick to write i have a lot of ideas but im dumb ☹️

prolly gonna make a jing yuan version later on :P

💗💗

Pre-cyborg boothill headcannons!

[rinneverse]

Boothill….ougurrr….fucking you as if he’ll get you pregnant….

hey. when i catch you. this has been plaguing my mind ever since i saw the notif for it. mdni / nsfw content ahead. f!reader. mentions of breeding n’ pregnancy.

Boothill knows better.

He knows that it’s entirely impossible—that he doesn’t even have that capability anymore—but every day spent with you he yearns for it more and more.

The thought of seeing you pregnant with his child plagued his mind every single night.

It’s especially apparent in the way he fucks you: slow, deep strokes, pressing his metallic body right up against the flesh of your heated skin, fucking into you with a purpose, no matter if that purpose would be fruitless in the end.

“Sugar,” Boothill groans into your ear, sharp teeth nipping at your lobe. “You’re killin’ me here—fuck—grippin’ me so tight.. it’s like you don’t wan’ me to ever pull out.”

Your fingers press into metallic shoulders as his synthetic cock hits that spongy spot inside of you, a delighted mewl falling from your lips as he mouths sloppily down the slope of your neck.

“Feels s’good,” you whine back, legs wrapping tight around his waist. “Baby, Boothill, please.”

He nearly snarls with an animalistic heat as his name falls from your lips, an angelic plea that he never wants to stop hearing. His hips snap harder, pace growing more ruthless, and your song grows more and more desperate as he brings you closer to climax.

“Never w’nna stop pounding this sweet pussy—mmh, yeah—I wanna put a baby in ya, w’nna make sure you’re nice n’ full..!”

He can feel his sensory receptors working into overdrive as he fucks into you, icy metallic fingertips gripping your hips so tightly that there’s no chance of you escaping him even as you squeal and flutter around him.

“Wait!” you cry. Pretty silvery tears of pleasure line your lashes, threatening to spill over down your cheeks. “T’much, slow down, g’nna cum, wait..!”

Boothill ignores your pleas, snapping his hips with a new fervor as he angles his cock to hit that perfect little spot inside you. He wants you to cum, and he wants you to cum hard.

“You like that idea, huh?” Boothill goads you. “The idea of bein’ pumped full of my kids? Yeaaah, you’re clenchin’ so tight around me. C’mon sugar, cum, I know you can.”

Boothill has never wished for something more as you cum around his cock with a cry. He’s never longed for his humanity more—the ability to empty his load inside your convulsing heat, to make you a mother, to see you so round and full of his kids.

In another life, perhaps, the two of you start a happy family together. One where this dream of his can come true.

For this one, he’ll just settle for making you cum until you’re seeing stars.

[harmonysanreads]

What if Boothill ends up actually cursing when he genuinely tries to compliment someone

[bloodypeachblog]

Imagine Boothill saving you from some bandits and then him lifting you over his shoulders, then saying to the bandits as he gently smacks your ass, "Sorry, fellas. This ascot is mine."

[alwayscorvus]

HONKAI STAR RAIL Masterlist:

Jing Yuan

What are lions truly scared of (x half-lion!Jing Yuan)

Forced Marriage

Gallagher

"Too grumpy to handle" How your relationships with Gallagher began (x older!Gallagher)

Blade

"Slow Burn" - Blade as your boyfriend - Part 1 (soulmate au)

"Petals of love" - Blade as your boyfriend - Part 2 (requested)

Dan Heng

"You are cute when you get worried about me" - Part 1

Bronya Rand

Is it a date?

click and go back to full Masterlist...

[struggling-jpg]

Random thoughts but

imagine Boothill going to the Luofu and meeting Jing Yuan and by extension Yanqing and it's like "Wow! You guys are motherfudging cool!"

But it occurs to him how young Yanqing is and he can't help but think that maybe his daughter could have grown and made friends with him. It's somewhat concerning that this little guy is in the constant face of danger. Boothill gets it, the kid's strong, but the dad in him worries just a bit.

Then maybe Boothill and Jing Yuan talk while eating (well, Boothill chewing on a bullet probably), and he brings it up casually, smoothly but the General knows what he's trying to get at.

Jing Yuan talks about how he's also feels worry, that he had thought about what it meant to raise Yanqing as a son, retainer, and a soldier. It takes some moments but Boothill finally openly talks about his daughter and how he wishes that he got to see beyond her first steps. That she could have had the chance to play guitar or ride horses or even learn to drive a spaceship. He feels afraid for Yanqing because isn't that boy still so small?

And Jing Yuan agrees with a thin, close-eyed smile that Boothill recognizes but can't put a name to. They reach a mutual understanding yet unanswered questions hang in the air.

[cooldudesthings]

Mechanical findings

Notes: this is my first fic I suck at writing so bear with me on this i was bored outta my mind idk what to put on the title so i did the first thing that came to mind

Warnings:tk fic if you don’t like it don’t read it

Lee: Boothill

Ler:mechanic reader

Boothill found himself locked into your work table, a giggly mess. He needed to have a few wires looked at near his sensors. When you looked at the wires, taking notice of the dust and dirt close to some of the sensors, you took a can of compressed air, put the straw on it, and stuck it near a sensor. Gently pressing down on the trigger to have the air not be too much for the sensor, little did you and Boothill know that he'd be able to feel ticklish. But now that you know, you decided to mess with him a bit.

"C'mon Boot, you can't be this sensitive," you coo as you continue blowing the air around the sensors.

"Y/N! Snrk-quihihit ihihit I swehehar," Boothill laughed between words, his face painting itself a pretty crimson. To think a mechanical cowboy could be so ticklish added to his embarrassment. He was plotting his revenge against you as his pleas for mercy fell on your deaf ears.

"Awww, does it tickle more here or here?" you tease as you switch between sensors, loving every second of his laughter as you drive him up the wall.

"Gahahad stohohohop ihihihit mehehercy!!!!" Boothill cried out, becoming desperate for it to end.

You chuckled as you continued to mess with his sensors a bit more before stopping and closing him up. You hit the button for the table to release him and bolt out of the room, giggling as you knew he was going to get his revenge one way or another.

[bea-does-stuff]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ 𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

₊˚✩彡 𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

✩ How they react to public kisses (scenarios)

✩ Apologising after an argument (scenarios)

₊˚✩彡 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

✩ How they react to public kisses (scenarios)

₊˚✩彡 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

✩ How they react to public kisses (scenarios)

✩ Apologising after an argument (scenarios)

₊˚✩彡 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

✩ How they react to public kisses (scenarios)

₊˚✩彡 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

✩ How they react to public kisses (scenarios)

Feel free to suggest something, I don’t bite~ 

[rindough]

that first anon again: oh my god losing my religion by r.e.m. for boothill. this man is SO full of teenage angst, sitting in the corner of one of those old timey country bars all veiled in shadow looking at the person he has feelings for laughing and dancing in the crowd, completely mesmerised as he rests his chin on a hand with a focused expression, mouth slightly open, and absent-mindedly traces the rim of his glass with a finger from the other, almost without realising. You ain't slick, dude. Go talk to them.

God, I am so fucking normal about him.

OH YA i forgot to reply to a question from ur prev ask, sure! u can give me indie songs as well heheeee, and ngl i wasnt expecting this song but its one of my fav songs to vibe to!!!!

OKOK I GOT THE IDEA AND I FIND IT CUTE buttt i kinda put a twist to it if thats okay!

--;

so lets say you're a regular at this diner in town, you had your fair amount of visits here with your friends, your family, even alone. boothill has seen it all, but god at each time he tries to strike up a conversation with you, it either comes off awkward or him just flying off his seat from trying to 'smoothly' whoosh onto the stool.

he doesn't know what made him this... intrigued by your presence, why is it that everytime the door bell chimes, he glances by the door to see if it was you, the way your voice echo in the quiet diner, the way you spun around after you got your order and straight out the door you walked. he wants to know why and how has he suddenly had the balls to walk up to you, and just start some small talk.

unfortunately on his side, it got to the point where it only ends in 'hi's or 'i see's. he thought he could do it, he thought he could whoosh his way in n perhaps whoosh his way out out this diner with u tagging along. but look at where he is now, it's not that you don't get along, but with the way he looks into your eyes and stutter whatever he wants to say, fumbling over words and fall into silence while you wait, while you search his eyes, his body languages. Waiting for something more, as the man himself got you to become a nervous mess too.

but overtime, he gradually became standoffish, he no longer sits beside you at most of your visits, he doesn't look high up above the diner booth to check if its you (he observes from the window instead 🙄), he just waves, he just stands up to go at your presence, he just-

he no longer visits the diner.

in fear and perhaps shame, he and his cyborg body, you would prefer someone much more... human, right? what does it take for a cyborg like him to woo someone he fancies?

it's impossible, he thought. at this point, he'll just give up and not think about the thing people call, the thing he once dreamt of having, love. he'll just give up the act and focus on some... commission he has or whatever...

but does he really though?

"dude, since day 1, are you still gonna mess this right up?"

the voice behind him pulls him out of his trance, the spunk haired man stays put in his seat, the fold of his index rubbing his bottom lips while a thumb rests on his his sharp jawline. choosing to ignore the blond waiter by his side. the waiter throws his tablecloth aside.

"hello?" he snaps his fingers at him, earning a 'tsk' from the man.

"whaddaya want? can't ya see i'm busy?"

"busy doing what? staring at them from this corner of the bar? i know that look of yours, i saw what happened last time-"

"and what? what makes you think i stand a chance with them, best believe 'm gonna look after them from far away. they don't needa see me here, they don't gotta see me at all."

the waiter groans, as if the man in front of him is being blind or feigning ignorance to escape falling in love, to just... dwell in his insecurities. "bro, look at the way they look at you!"

boothill stays put, eyes blinking at your swaying form, your head shaking side to side at the music. the way you jump, throw your hands up, his mouth falls slightly ajar at the way you move. his throat runs a little dry at the way beauty could exist in many forms and at anytime, and this was one of the many times he had found beauty in you. he had found himself longing for you.

it's agonizing honestly.

both on your end and on his.

you're here swaying to the music from the speakers, mingling with other youngsters in your town, hoping that when you turn around to start talking, it'd be the one you've been looking for this whole time, the one whose clumsy way of flirting leaves you wanting more and more. the night was young and there's ample time for him to visit the diner, but... would he?

for him, he wishes he was the only one under your spotlight, the one making you laugh, oh how he loves the way your lips curl into a smile, the way your eyes twinkle.

if he was out there in the crowd with you, best believe he'll twirl and dip you down on the dancefloor and make you have the best night and dance of your whole life.

he turns his head sideways, looking at the blond. "what's with the way they look at me?"

then he turns back to observe you. maybe, just maybe, you would turn around at a certain degree and meet his yearning gaze. wondering if he can make you feel his presences by drilling holes into your skull.

"..." at this point he's defeated, he can't be bothered to explain all these lovey-dovey pre-dating crush nonsense to this sulking cowboy.

"y'kno mister, they've been looking for you every time when you're not around the diner. do i gotta explain more? do i gotta explain the 'where's boothill? have you seen him? has he visited today?'" he mocks, "ya wanna know what happened when i told them no every single time? they just left the diner- not ordering anything!"

the spunk haired man hums, now no longer focused on you, but instead, his back facing the crowd as he stares into the prepared drink before him, finger circling the rim of the glass as the complaints of the waiter goes unheard.

if what the man was saying is true, then... but... why? what made him special enough for you to promptly ask for him at every visit. and he bet it was every visit, since he's not even in the diner every day for months. so, why did he have to leave?

was it the fear of judgement?

was it fear of rejection?

or was it the fear of losing you?

so-

"so?" the waiter quirks an eyebrow, "what do you plan to do with that information-"

he can't back down now, the aftertaste of soulglad lingers the back of his mouth, he's walking, walking towards the crowd, thank god your back was facing him... otherwise he wouldn't be doing what he was doing now, otherwise he'd instantly run away again. and he does not plan to let you search for him again.

"hey." he whispers, smiling gently at the way you suck in your breath at the sight of him.

he never thought he'd feel his heart melt much more than before the moment your soft lips mellow into a smile, the twinkle of your eyes refreshing his past, yet brief memories with you.

"hi."

--;

©  2024 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.

[razormain]

quickly scribbled smth for a fic i wrote :) everyone read it its about romance positive aroace argenti

[followerofmercy]

Talking with @hydrachea and her and Rinn's take on Hanahaki disease to flavor it more towards emotional constipation and confession than the normal version that is deeply horrifying to me in a way that is probably not intentional (go look at the post here I love it) - and started thinking about Dan Heng specifically.

Wondering if he's hesitant to form romantic relationships after what happened with Dan Feng and Yingxing, and to a lesser extent any kind of deep love after what happened with Baiheng. Love drove literally all of them to tragedy.

Dan Heng spent so much of his early life running that he didn't have time to form those deep connections. He had no way to understand how someone could do something so stupid, ruin that life and his next, betray his culture, all for... a friend dying? People die all the time. It's sad, of course, but not reason to do something with such horrifying consequences on the chance it might work.

But I wonder if, after a few months on the Express, Dan Heng starts to get comfortable. He leaves his spear in his room while he reads on the couch and he's sitting there watching Stelle and March wrestle and Himeko drink her godawful coffee and Welt dad snore in the armchair and suddenly it hits him. He would do anything for these people. He couldn't bear any of their deaths, not too soon or sudden. This is The Defining Moment where he actually forgives Dan Feng because he can finally relate, and I think that would contribute to the bittersweetness. Just feeling a little bad about being so hard on his past self for one of his best qualities and the acceptance that this is who he is- who they are. Love is worth anything.

[cloudluvrrr]

I’m sorry

He stared at the gravestone, it was neglected. Dirty, with dried up flowers and old toys that were stained brown.

..he’d forgotten

He promised himse. He promised he wouldn’t forget her. Out of everyone. He’d forgotten his daughter. With all the mess in penacony, & finding the man who’d done it all.

He forgot the whole reason he began

He forgot, to visit the small grave. He used to visit often, buying toys and fresh flowers each time.

Now they were tattered, stained and dead.

Like him.

“..I’m sorry”

Is all he uttered as he sat beside the grave, no tears fell out.

Nothing else was said.

“I’m sorry babygirl”

he repeated again, again and again hoping he would forgive himself for everything he’d done.

—

i fear boothill cant be happy

[thedemises]

goddamn you guys are down bad for that guy. jesus christ. the fact that the boothill work I posted 8 HOURS AGO got 118 notes baffles me greatly. 💀

[strdstd]

@stxrsfxte replied to your post: { -holds out Mylo and Ophelia for 'morally grey mechanics willing to do off the record modifications'- }

{Yes, going along with the "watching someone create their own undoing & only be able to watch as they lose their humanity" trope (or something like that)- Tho I feel like he'd be way more accepting of Ophelia instead of Mylo (unless Mylo hides the fact that he works for the IPC, bc Boothill's already had plenty of experiences of mechanics/engineers trying to rat him out to the IPC).}