Here Me Out On This:

Here me out on this:

Boothill with his s/o who has stuck by his side all this time from back when he was still human, to his early days of being a cyborg (those days were the darkest but they were his shining light) till now. His s/o who has been so patient and understanding with him, reassuring Boothill that they love him no matter what he thinks of himself (he definitely hides how insecure he is deep down). With all that in mind, this makes Boothill go “Yeah figure I might as well propose to them” because his s/o is the only person he’d ever want to spend the rest of his life with. <333

-Sugarcube anon

OW SUGARCUBE ANON IT HURT SO BAD BUT ALSO HURT SO GOOD 😭

Honestly the realization that you've been with him through all of this would hit him on a completely random day, seeing you do something absolutely normal and mundane. Boothill is just sitting there, watching you cook or sew clothes you've meant to for a while, and then... It clicks.

Oh the innocent days back then, when it was all the same, except.. for when he looked down, and saw some scars, cuts or actually seeing his chest rise and fall when he took and released his breath; when that pesky hands of yours tickled him relentlessly, making him unable to hold the laughter that echoed through the room. When he still could feel his own voice vibrate in the depths of his throat.

Even when Boothill opened his eyes and noticed the new weight of his body, the buzzing sounds whenever he stretched his hard, metal fingers for the first time—

You remained by his side.

You remained through his first baby steps, that no longer bore the resemblance of a human. You still kissed him goodnight and wanted him to embrace you from behind, even though the weight of his new arm felt slightly jarring on your side. You still kept saying the words that he won't ever get tired of.

"I love you."

The words seemed to have left Boothill's mouth by themselves with no prior warning.

"What?" Your eyelashes flutter in surprise, stopping you in your tracks; your eyes gaze at his in confusion, encouraging him to speak further.

Boothill only stares at you back, his mouth slightly agape. There's a small glimmer in his widened eyes.

"Boothill? Are you—"

"Marry me."

🫶 my love boothill

Some more pre-release Boothill brainrot because I'm struggling,, psst, there's a part 2 from a boothil lover for boothill lovers

Boothill still tries to woo you and flirt with you in bars or clubs, even if you're together god knows how long.

He sits next to you, eyeing you from time to time; he finishes drinking the cold beverage and stands up, placing his hat on the seat and moving in between the seats, closer to you. "Ya come here often, sweetheart?" he flashes his signature shark smile at you, leaning on the bar counter with his elbows, "Well, aren't you a pretty little thing? A cowboy like me can't let a sweet pea like you go home alone at night," boothill tilts his head slightly, moving his bangs and revealing his other eye - his silver eyes glimmer with playfulness, not long before sending you a wink.

"Boothill, we've been married for 5 years."

Boothill is probably able to drink more than a normal human (canon pls don't disappoint me), so when it gets a little too much, he's straight up caging you between him and the bar counter with his arms on either side and making out with you. He does NOT care. And the bartender better not care either.

Boothill is your mobile electricity outlet, so you can pretty much always charge your phone. Probably not a pleasant experience for him, but sometimes you just have to do sacrifices for love. (💀)

It might be a challenge to sometimes differentiate whether Boothill says genuine pet names or wants to playfully throw a jab at you, since his synesthesia beacon is acting up. You're his sweetheart, but that goddamn fly that kept bothering him for two days straight is too... Hmm.

thought: slightly tipping up boothill's hat with a finger to give him a forehead kiss

THIS made me want to beat up air in the best way. SOFT BOOTHILL ALERT 🚨‼️

This is probably Boothill’s favorite thing. EVER. Absolutely something that could make him short circuit on the spot (which did happen when you initially started doing it), just because he feels so loved, and he can’t get over how stupidly adorable that is.

One of the very few things that can genuinely catch him off guard; one second he’s busy playing with his phone, and then you tip his hat up, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. Once Boothill registers the warmth of your lips, his eyes focus on something blurry in the distance - he’s staring and letting out no words, none until he hears you giggling. He tries to hide the rare redness of his cheeks with his hat and pulls it down lightly, grumbling quietly.

Boothill does get used to it after a while, deep down hoping you’d never stop doing it, unfortunately - he refuses to ask you, so he just suffers until you do it; but when you do, he grabs you by your arm and gazes intensely into your eyes.

“Again. Do it again.”

There’s just something in his mind that immediately shuts him down (thankfully not literally now), really, it’s just so damn cute - you tip his hat up. To give him a kiss on his forehead. If he could, he’d have butterflies in his stomach right now, alas - his hands instinctively place themselves on his firm, metallic equivalent, as if they truly ravaged inside.

But in his mind, he still remembers; and thanks to you - he doesn’t have to worry about forgetting the feeling, quite the contrary - relishing the fact that he can still feel loved the same way, just like during the times he was truly human.

neuvillette my love 🫶🫶🫶

“my wife.”

how they address you. why does it make your heart skip a beat each time?

characters; neuvillette, wriothesley

—female pronouns obvi, aaaa this is so random😭 fluff, tad bit of crack, has suggestive themes/dirty jokes cause that's my humor in general, just tryna get into writing again heehaa don't mind me ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ

NEUVILETTE always accompanies the term with unmatched affection. it rolls off his tongue perfectly like a match made in heaven, coupled with the serene image of you instantaneously appearing in his mind before he even thinks of the uttering the endearing term. he still finds it surreal that you are both even lawfully married, yet the way he calls you his wife is already on instinct. is it too presumptuous of him?

well, in the end, he can't find any means to worry about it when you seem to equally adore the nickname.

“ooohh, say it again, say it again!”

he can't tell whether he married a child or not, but he still obliges your request and calls you his wife affectionately once more.

meanwhile, furina nearly gags everytime she hears him say it so softly—like using any other tone when referring to you would land him in the hands of the fortress of meropide. sure—she might've been the one who set up both of you—but the drama and thrill akin to watching a romance film has delightfully ended, and she can only meddle so much in marital matters. the iudex just might actually have her head in a platter if she were to do anything mischievous at that point.

but while a happy neuvillette is running around announcing 'my wife' this and 'my wife' that, you are currently stuck on what to call him in return, sadly enough.

“at this point, i think i'm just going to call you daddy.”

it was unfortunate with the way he choked on some of the water he was drinking—well, thank goodness he didn't spill much as before. for this wasn't the first time you said something unprompted while he was in peace with his water—he can only internally sigh.

“and what exactly has influenced you to arrive at such a conclusion, my wife?” he does not miss the tiny shudder of your body that followed the endearment. your face burns a tad bit at that, and he softly chuckles.

“your effect on me is no joke, you know?” you pout at his amused smile, “the way you refer to me so sweetly makes me want to call you my dearest husband everytime.”

“i don't recall voicing any complaints. is something else holding you back from doing so?”

you nod solemnly in agreement at that, which prompts him to raise a brow in mild curiousity.

“thing is, i really like calling you by your first name. same with monsieur neuvilette. there's something mildly erotic within it—you get what i mean, hehehe...” he only stares at you, clearly unimpressed, and a bit concerned at the implication. you clear your throat, apologizing under your breath.

“still—it's such a devastating predicament to be unable to choose between the three.” you sigh defeatedly, moving to slump your entire weight on his lap. you mutter, “my dearest husband monsieur neuvillette...mmm, no, that's too long.”

chuckling at your dramatic antics, he plants a soothing hand on your waist, the other fixing your wrinkled clothing as you practically melt against his hold. “and you thought settling on daddy was the appropriate option?”

“i'm not hearing any objections.” you jest, feeling cheeky.

“please refrain from calling me such a thing in the eyes of the public atleast.”

“...huh? you're actually allowing it??”

WRIOTHESLEY on the other hand, says it as if he's flaunting. it leaves his lips like a taunt each time, indirectly telling the other party 'i have a hot wife and you dont' even though most of the time the people he mentions you to don't even know what you actually look like. it's silly, childish even, but you still love it nonetheless.

sigewinne and the other inmates have collectively told you that ever since you got married, he has never uttered your actual name to anyone else. some find it weird, some find it somehow disrespectful, and some are now convinced he's crazily obsessed with you, and now he's showing it off every chance he gets, much to everyone's dismay.

it's arrived to the point where a small percentage of people have actually forgotten about your name, and now refer to you as the duke's wife, or even duchess, to which you made a face at. that's kind of pushing it by then.

anywho, in the end, it's funny and endearing, maybe even makes you a bit giddy, but there is no way you're telling him that. the situation might escalate even more if possible.

“you know, my wife is very mean to me today.”

as a pair of strong yet gentle arms wrap around your waist, you resist the growing smile on your face, deciding to mess with your husband for a bit.

“is that so?” you continue your chores without a care in the world. he huffs.

“mhm. she won't look me in the eye the whole day, even though she seemed sooo happy last night.” face instantly burning, you hiss as you slap his arm in a fit of embarrassment, pulling a hearty chuckle from the man behind you.

“—and now she's hitting me as well. i can't believe this.” you both know very well he was not fazed in the slightest bit.

“if her husband wasn't such a pervert then maybe—”

his facade cracks as he forces out an awkward laugh, “hey now, baby, you know i'm nothing like that.”

“wriothesley.”

he clears his throat awkwardly, “okay, maybe a little. it's exclusive for you though! my wife doesn't have to be so mean about it, you're making me reallyyy sad here, y'know?”

there it is again, you think. that nickname. that damned word that makes you want to turn around and smash your lips against his and—wait, hold yourself together! don't forget the reason you're being cold to him!

“you deserve to feel remorse. i've been struggling to even move the whole day because of you.”

you go rigid.

you didn't mean for that to come out so bitter...oh no.

“oh. so that's what this is about.” you don't even have to turn around to know that there's a smug look on his stupidly handsome face, his grip on your waist turning into soothing circles as he presses a kiss to your neck.

“if my wife wanted a massage, she could've just said so.” it's husky when it leaves his mouth, leaving you to shiver with the chills he enunciates.

flustered, you completely disregard the way your knees buckle at the endearment laced with that low voice of his, hitting his arm once more, earning a tiny 'ouch' from him.

“pervert. i want rest, not another round!”

“heh, i didn't say anything about another round, my perverted wife.”

“you—” you are abrupt cut off as you yelp in surprise when your feet are raised off the ground, your face now much closer to your husband's as he carries you gently in his arms.

“shhh, just let me take you to bed. if my wife was feeling terrible the whole day, she should've just told me in the first place so she could stay in, don't you think?”

he's right, but you're still angry. “shut up.”

“just letting you know i'm not completely at fault, wife.” you attempt to ignore the furious beating of your heart, face burning at his smug expression. “i'm not the only one who wanted it.”

hsr version...? if i feel like it...🤔🤔

"is this too cliche?" who cares? bro, write what you have fun writing. stuff your manuscript full of your favourite tropes. the same themes you love. all inspired by things you grew up with. do it all. go off. load. it. up. be freeeee