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Boothill x Reader
The way home is a long one, but what is waiting for you is most often worth it
//Short little thing before I start working on a fic no one will want (very indulgent onmyoji fanfic). Massive liberties taken for Boothill's entire existence here. Poem from Akif Kichloo on Twitter.
People keep asking
me for my address and
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The candle flickers in the night, its little flame trying its best to remain alight among the harshities of this world. Seated by the window with a book in your lap, you look beyond the horizon as your tea grows cold on the table. It is quiet for the most part, nothing but the occasional chirping of birds and your thoughts to accompany you on such a lonely night.
Though, perhaps ‘lonely’ would not be the best descriptor.
Your dearest lover was due to arrive any time now. Albeit, the connection on his end had made it horrifically choppy and all you could catch was ‘coming’ and ‘soon’, so whatever that means. And seeing as his message had lasted for about a minute, you could only assume he would be coming back soon. So you wait. You have been waiting for the past three days, tidying up the house and thinking of his smug grin, doing the laundry and thinking of that silly little hat plopped on your head when you least expect it, knitting and thinking of the way his fingers grasp your hand, no matter that he is unable to feel it.
Still, you wonder how long he will remain in your humble abode this time. If you get lucky, perhaps he will stay around for a few days, and if not, he will be gone by the time the sun rises.
You are not angry that your reunions are very often brief and if not, cut short. Rather, you find it hard to remain angry. Of course, that is not to say that every time you awaken to nothing but your empty bed, perhaps breakfast prepared on the table and no doubt a little audio message waiting for you, you do not feel just the slightest miffed and perhaps aggrieved.
You know that he has pledged himself to the Galaxy Rangers, and that his own principles will not let him remain idle in one place for too long knowing that many injustices in the world remain. You know that, it is a notion you have not once forgotten, one that has made you so unabashedly enamoured with him. You would even argue that you would have never gotten so addled by his very being if not for that very part of him. Yet there are times you just wish you could have him for a day longer, an hour longer, a minute longer even.
There are times you miss him with such a fervour you wonder why you do not just pack up and join him, times you yearn to do nothing but to run your fingers through his hair, run your finger along his nose and place a hand at his cheek. These moments always trip you up at the most arbitrary times, and it leaves you thinking of nothing but him in the aftermath.
As your eyes flutter open and close, a pathetic attempt at remaining conscious, you can just scarcely hear the sound of footsteps outside, boots against dry ground in a rhythmic click of spurs. The person beyond steps onto your porch and does not bother with knocking, opening the door as what may be considered moonlight leaks in.
There is that well-pleased grin on his face, steel grey eyes glinting with a fondness still. The ends of his pants are dirty, and his hair is just the slightest messy. Arguably, he has come back to you neat and tidy as can be, but that instinct within you simply looks for reasons for him to stay, not reason.
“Darlin’,” He calls for you yet Boothill gets not two words in before you are already up and out, your hands reaching for him as metallic arms clasp themselves behind your back. In a sudden move, he lifts you up in one swift action, forcing a shocked gasp to leave your throat as he laughs.
It is a sweet sound and no matter the surprise, you yourself laugh along when he spins you around. He would never drop you, you trust him with your life. And when he finally puts you down, soft and gentle, a hand rests on his chest, the feeling of leather and cool medallions under your touch a kind of relief, yet nothing compared to that of your other hand, thumb upon his face rubbing in methodical strokes, warm and alive.
With a far softer tone that you are used to, you furrow your brows as you direct your attention to him fully, “You’re all scuffed up.”
“‘was trying to get back to you quicker,” He mumbles in your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo like a man starved.
“You idiot,” You sigh, a resigned smile pulled across your face. Still, that does not stop you from continuing your petting, your other hand brushing away his bangs to fully reveal his handsome visage, “You didn’t even stop by the mechanics, I can wait for you, y’know?”
“And let you waste away all on yer own?”
You can only let a fond laugh escape at that, not actually too worried about his clearly healthy and fighting fit condition. Come hell or high water, that damned cowboy of yours would find some way to crawl back into your life.
“I’m back,” His voice mellow yet distinct, finally free of whatever glitchy communication device he manages to get his hands on.
Smiling, far wider than last time, cold fingers brush back your hair as you lean into his touch. You whisper into the night, heard by only you and him, “Welcome home.”
He came home, and no matter how long he will be around, what matters is that he is home, safe and sound and back in your arms.
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I keep handing them
your name
Something I just recently noticed that just seems to hurt even more is the outbursts the twins have when feeling they’ve been betrayed.
Dear TVD, I wanna say thank you for giving me everything I always wanted in a television show. A show that consumed me, that was full of passion, and adventure. There’s nothing more I could ever want than for it to last forever, but it can’t. This is the last time I’m gonna see you. This is goodbye, TVD. Love, Your everlasting fans
(via undressyoursoul)
The vampire diaries: Goodbye. Rest in peace! No one can hurt you anymore :')
A love letter to your faithful companion NPCs
THE SECOND COMIC MY HEART
The useless card