Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everyone in this forsaken town, which has served as a stopover for such crooks and gamblers, breathed in the stench of gunpowder and cigars. You called this awful place home and now wish you had not. 

You're an impoverished girl struggling to make ends meet. You want to save as much money as possible, but the only position you could find was as the main waitress at this establishment your deceased father had left your siblings but you only stayed to keep this place running.

It was dusk, the last of the sun's rays were dropping low and gloriously over the entire town, and all you had to light were the lantern you had placed in your tavern. 

"Last one." With a small grunt, you reach the final lantern and light it with a match struck by the pole next to you as you were outside. Once your gaze diverted away from the source of light that shined bright, you looked out to the sandy grounds and the people who were out and about doing their usual things, but what caught your attention was the numerous papers littering the ground.

Taking a glimpse of them as they fluttered in the wind, you only saw the name and a glance of this man's face. "Boothill?" Your voice was a mere whisper carried along with the posters and you shook your head, walking back into the tavern while picking up your skirts.

Aside from the occasional chirp and chatter from your other waitresses— one of whom appeared to be holding the newest wanted poster in her hands—all was now silent in your tavern. One did speak up. "Ain't he sooo fine~?" She looked up at you as you snatch it out of the girl's hand, and she rolled her eyes as you tapped a painted finger against the man's face. 

"Don't be fallin' for these damn pigs, nothin' more than a crook." A small scoff crossed your painted lips as you lifted up a leg to search within your boot for another match but couldn't find one, so you ripped it in front of the gathering. 

"Aw come now, (Y/n)! Don't be like that..he's the talk of the town, and I heard he's more handsome in person..." This waitress with high pigtails tells the other gossiping women, you merely shrugged. "Don't care. I don't wanna be fallin' for a gangster of a casanova or a gun slingin' moron." 

With a rag in hand, you began to scour each table clean of the muck and grime that had accumulated from the morning's service. Your hands ached, but you couldn't do anything to assist, and treatment was quite expensive. Looking down at the mahogany wood of the last table you were polishing, you caught a sight of yourself. 

You attempted to smile despite the fact that it was difficult; you were fatigued and could not take a break. 

The unexpected opening of both doors caused every worker in the tavern to look up; men and women began to rush in, and you were eager to assist them in settling down.

One table piqued your interest, so you snapped your fingers and had your superb pianist play his favorite song before turning to confront the town's sheriff, who was surrounded by several unruly guys starting to light cigars and cigarettes.

"What can I do for ya fine gentleman?" A delicate hand on your chin, your long lashes fluttering, you only kept your eyes upon this fine man who also kept your eye. "Look at you, got a new dress? And of my favorite color...." Gallagher says with a wolf whistle escaping his lips, watching you do a small twirl, and it made him almost drop his cigar on the floor. Your lips form a false sweet smile, and then you sigh faintly. 

"I do like red too, was a lot of money though." You lowered your head while biting your bottom plush lip, leaning down far into Gallagher's ear, and your breasts nearly spilled out in front of him; he was a flustering mess, his normally drowsy eyes expanding and his Adam's apple bouncing nervously. “I’ve been workin’ pretty hard, y’know what I mean?” You tell him in a low whisper. 

However, to his demise, you suddenly piqued up and laughed a little. "Again, what can I get for ya boys?" 

As you started to write down each order—the majority of which were for whiskey and beers from the tap—you became aware that Gallagher was restless in his chair out of the corner of your eye.

The deep veins in his hands were bulging as they were balled up in fists, frustratingly huffing air. He looks up to you through his locks of brown hair and suddenly swung his leg around the other. "Did ya get that (Y/n)?" One of the men said. You blinked owlishly, now nodding your head. "Of course I did!" 

You kept conversation with the table and Gallagher until you hear one of your waitresses raise her voice loudly and the sudden noise of glass breaking. "Sorry ya'll, but I must be going." You tell them trying to leave the table but Gallagher takes your hand, making you come to a sudden halt and turn back to him. "I'll see you later alright?" With you removing your hand, you blow a kiss to him and rushed over to the table.

"What happened here?" Your eyes narrowed at the liquor that was spilled all over the floor and this man's table. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry that this happened sir!" You hurriedly shooed away the waitress and, still holding the rag, began wiping away the amber-colored liquid that glistened so brightly by dropping to your knees.

You were so occupied cleaning up the mess that you didn't hear the mysterious man's sultry chuckle or see the puff of smoke above your head. 

However, the more you see of this man, your (e/c) orbs began to widen, you caught glimpse of metal and then come to a sudden stop to see his silver hand curl around your chin to lift it up. "Thank ya darlin...." 

You could only stare, stare in sheer terror at this sought-after man hovering over you...

Chapter Text

...

"I said—" He slants his head slightly towards your face, a devious grin creeping onto his lips.

"You alright there kitten?" He drawls out like the finest whiskey being poured, expelling smoke from his nostrils, which strikes your face and causes you to cough. 

To his amazement, you instantly withdrew your chin from his cold metal fingers, giving him an awe-struck expression, but it switched to something spiteful. 

Your pouty lips began to move, having Boothill feel a shiver run down his spine. “I’m quite alright. Just wonderin’ how a rascal and a dog like you got into my very tavern..” You murmur back, eyes becoming half lidded. 

His crimson eyes are big and smoldering, and he has perfectly defined features, including a flawless jawline and smooth skin. However, you don't have to admire the man's attractiveness for very long before he speaks up again.

“Hey..don’t be sayin’ I’m a dog now sweetheart. I’ll fill ya with lead…” This long-haired man responds, licking his lips, as you return your gaze to where the sheriff sits. You wondered if you might capture his attention with Boothill in your trap like a fly in sticky molasses. 

You look towards him again from your lashes and now shrugged. “I ain’t the one who you will, certainly you’ll be the damned hound who’ll get the end of the stick and—“ You stood on your heels. “But I can’t lie..you sure are kinda lousy with it,” pointing to the pistol in the man’s holster, your painted lips tilt up a bit. “That’s what I heard anyway…” 

The chair abruptly squeaked, Boothill now towering over you while he then growled, some of his silver hair falling against his handsome face. “Listen here young lady, you don’t know who the heck I am..” 

Moving closer, you gradually lean more towards him and nearly rest your head against his very shoulder. “I do like playin’ with fire and you ain’t no different from a typical man.” 

Boothill's heart was racing, and the fragrance of your delicious perfume and the way your body almost melted into his own made him nearly groan. His hand reaches up for your hair, which cascaded down your back, but you pull away, having him now sit down at the table. 

Boothill is quiet, crossing his arms while watching you take a bottle of fine rum and a small shot glass from one of your workers who walked by with a tray.

“What?” You take a pause. “Cat got your tongue?”

That made him laugh uncontrollably, yet it's a simple one. The laugh, which seemed so deep and resonant in his chest, caused you to cease adding rum to the glass you were holding. 

“Nah, ‘bout to cut yers….” 

You felt that same dread you did before crept right back within, it was forming goosebumps all over your skin, and now you realized of the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. 

Your face was grasped instantly, Boothill's hand snaking down the inside of his thigh to free a knife from the sheath he had there, which he put up with the tip against your bottom lip, and he moved your lip slightly forward towards him to peer into your mouth.

Your doe eyes retained Boothill's stare, and that's when you realized his eyes weren't ordinary. 

They almost seemed crazed and were so exotic, sharp and with the hint of machine. “I-I..” A gasp left your lips, sensing the man taking the shot glass from your shaking fingers, and he takes whatever was in that. 

With a satisfying sigh, he used a metal finger to wipe his mouth. After setting the glass down and clinking on it, Boothill lunges forward.  

"W...w-what are you?" You spoke in a tremulous voice, trying to keep your distance from him, but it was challenging because so many people were crammed into the tavern. 

His crimson eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he ignored the woman's question. Typical for many to ask and it always did bother him, making him always break out in a heated argument, but seeing the fear in your eyes made him just raise his silver hand up to wave it aside.

“I’ll see ya around cutie….” Boothill smiled briefly, causing you to back off at the horrifying sight of his sharp teeth. The cigar he placed back into his mouth.

Like the damn devil himself.

He then got up, tipped his hat, and left, keeping the other patrons in the bar hidden from view. 

Gazing upon the spectacle before him, Gallagher was surrounded by smoke around his table. He was furious with the way you had spoken to this man, whose face was hidden by haze, and he let out a low growl while rubbing the back of his neck. He was taken aback when he eventually saw you turn around.

With your hands clasped together and your chest pulsating with such raw force, you had the most beautiful desert rose-colored blush painted on your cheeks. He gets to his feet, his eyes widening as he watches you sprint past him, clicking your heels and panting before the doors open with a loud thud. 

You find yourself leaning against the porch railing of your tavern, observing the horses in anticipation of catching a glimpse of this man. However, despite a few minutes passing by, you don't spot him. Consequently, you lift your skirts slightly to prevent any potential stumbling.

-

Taking away in the night, you unaware that you were bound to face peril by simply being a woman with no one to guide you back to the tavern.

By taking a sharp curve, you pass numerous buildings, but a tall silhouette raises your brow, and you crept closer after noticing the tip of the cigarette light up in a cherry red, and the person expelled a breath of smoke. 

Upon approaching, one can observe red hair cascading down the man's silver chest, a feature that you recognize could provide protection against bullets, prompting a slight chuckle to escape their lips. He was quite the looker and you couldn't contain your blush.

"Well hello there, lost?" In his other hand, he clutched a spear weapon, which rested on his shoulders in a relaxed stance, and he smiled the sweetest smile. 

You shook your head side to side. "I'm actually just looking for an old friend, was wonderin' if they came down this way." You tell him, and he looks behind himself and back at you. 

"No. I have not seen anyone, do you want me to take..." He stops abruptly when someone walks up in front of you two, and his smile vanishes. He takes another drag from his cigarette before extinguishing it beneath his silver heel. 

"Argenti." 

Gallagher's harsh tone made you flinch, and Argenti noticed. He ignored the sheriff's tone and reached behind his back, pulling out a modest rose to put you at rest since the tension was growing quite in a haste manner.

He lifts it up in front of your line of sight, and the smile returns, but this time it makes you smile too. "There you are my lady, a gorgeous flower for someone like you and—" 

Argenti's eyes widened, as did yours, as Gallagher grabbed the wrist and forced it to drop, causing the rose to tumble to the ground. 

Chapter Text

Argenti’s muscles tensed momentarily, brows raising to his hairline. “You didn't have to be so rude Gallagher!” He dramatically sank to his knees and collapsed, a smile forming on his face as he caught the sound of your soft laughter.

"Save it for those whores you like to seduce, she ain't one." Gallagher snarled, folding his arms across his chiseled chest before blocking your view, forcing you to stare up at him. 

“Who the hell was that in yer tavern back there?” He says in a tone you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

“W-what?” You said back rather in a quick manner, twirling your thumbs together. “O-oh! Just an old friend! Nothin' else!” 

Gallagher groaned, becoming irritated. "Yer damn lyin', don't give me bullshit," he huffed hotly and lifts a finger to tap it against your temple.

You swat at his hand. "I ain't! I swear he is..." Biting your words, you couldn't continue as you tried your best to make up a lie but what Gallagher said next made your breath hitch and cheeks flush.

"That knife against ya tongue wasn't a sight to see. No bud would be doin' that." 

"He wasn't but he didn't scare me I swe-" Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to settle yourself down by stroking some of your hair with a trembling palm. "I swear Gallagher. Ya know how I am." You inform him, but he simply shrugs indifferently as then he does a kick in the dirt. 

“You are certainly stubborn.." He just says and raises his head to look off into the distance, ignoring Argenti, who appears directly next to him.

While the sheriff remained silent, you gracefully bent down to pick up the rose and courteously curtsied to Argenti. "Thank ya, it's really pretty. Mind if ya fellas take me home?"

You began to walk away from the two men, knowing deep down inside both of them would soon follow but it was to your amusement that Argenti was hot on your trail and Gallagher farther away from you. 

“I only give roses to those whose beauty I find admirable, so you should just disregard what he said,” Argenti speaks closer to your ear, beaming radiantly, and you couldn't help but gaze up at him through your long lashes. “I appreciate that. Not many men here are kind enough to give a gal a flower,” this had Argenti raise a brow high. 

He glances back at Gallagher and then at you. 

“Ah, I see.” 

You two were silent and didn't say anything till you raised an eyebrow with a question. “So what’s yer story?” 

Argenti blinked, tilting his head, and you admired how his hair appeared among the lanterns above you. 

“I’m just a simple bounty hunter under the Knights of Beauty trying to make ends meet. I did work with Gallagher in my young days but I wanted to travel more.” He responds, putting his weapon aside and placing his hands behind his back.

“Will you be staying here for long?” You murmured to him and it made Argenti’s cheeks flare up, he nervously brushed a hand through his locks. “I-I’m not exactly sure..” He paused then continued. “But I could use a company such as yourself….” 

You couldn’t help but knock your shoulder into Argenti’s upper arm and he laughed so brightly. 

The company was necessary around here, and you rarely had friends; many people only exploited you here for money or goods, so this was a true blessing for you. 

The more you continued to walk, the tavern came in sight and that was Gallagher’s cue to head back inside to his table, he didn’t care for the both of you who stopped by the doors and Argenti glanced in. 

"I can serve ya up a drink." You pointed out, and he shook his head. "Not much of a drinker." He responds, keeping his green eyes staring out into the heavens above, where the stars appear brilliant and clearer tonight. "I'll just stay out here, you wouldn't mind right?" 

“Not at all.”

Argenti then rests a hand on the porch balustrade, maintaining your stare as he returns your gaze, and reaches forward, his fingers now entwined in your hair. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, removing his hand. 

The two of you spend the majority of the night speaking. 

The rose is still in your grasp.

-

You began cleaning up any spills, leftover bottles, or glasses, and, much to your horror, throw up from drunken customers in the restrooms.

The shift was finally over. 

The waitresses and other workers have gone home for the night, so did Argenti but he did help you tidy up a bit, leaving you to be in your room upstairs that was located above the bar.

The room was quaint. Nothing more than a standard vanity and a large bed with curtains dropping from each side above. Removing your dress was not so difficult, you removed it and tossed it aside. 

You sat there staring at the mirror, first at yourself, then down at the corset you were wearing. 

You started to undo the white ribbon with delicate fingertips, but then there was a loud shout. 

“There he is!”

A gunshot rang so loud it made you almost fall right out of your vanity chair. 

Hoots and hollers rapidly followed, with bullets flying across the town until you heard an explosion and what sounded like metal being hit. 

Although that scared the living daylights out of you, you did what most people in the town did.. which was to peek right outside your window. 

Seeing nothing but darkness freaked you out. Then your vision caught what seemed to be something glowing an iridescent blue, it reminded you of blood spilled from an open wound. 

It then faded away into a color you couldn’t quite catch. 

BANG!

The startling noise came from your bathroom, accompanied by a painful cough; whoever entered may have climbed into your bathroom window, which you failed to close.

You cursed yourself, hoping and praying this person would leave, but then you heard footsteps and the twist of your doorknob. 

“M-mmmh, ngh..” Boothill stumbles into your room, an eye closed while the other barely remains open and he is staring right at you. As you watched him take another step and collapse to the ground, you remained there trembling fiercely, unable to open your voice to scream. 

Should you just run out and get the sheriff?

As you turned back, you darted towards your door to open it, but you heard the cyborg murmur something under his breath, causing you to release your shaking fingers from it.

"D-darlin'...." 

You slowly turn your head.

"Help..h-help me..."

Your expression fell to grief at the desperation in his voice. 

You open and close your mouth several times, now then sighing. “Hang on,” you say softly, darting towards Boothill, dropping to your knees in front of this wounded man. 

Boothill stills when you are just mere inches from him, a smile crept upon his lips, and he closed his eyes. 

"Just try to relax, yer bleeding a lot.." 

Your voice becomes quieter yet deeper at the proximity to him, he knew that he was in safe hands once you touch the side of his cheek to move some of his hair that was sticking on his cheek from the blood.

He knew he was being taken care of by an angel like you.

With a grunt passing your lips, you picked up Boothill and laid him on your bed. His long hair was strewn across your comfortable pillows, and he let out a delighted sigh, his nose almost pressing into the inside of your arm, as you began wiping away at his body with your very own bed linens. You honestly didn't care at this point; all you wanted to do was stitch him up and send him on his way, but something inside you stirred, and you felt strangely calm. 

Reaching down to your bedside, you take out what seemed to be a bottle of whiskey and used your teeth to take out the corkscrew.

This isn't a good time for a drink.. Boothill thought within his mind.

"Hold still, it'll sting." 

Without a countdown, you poured some of the booze into a wound on his cheek, and Boothill's eyes reopened. He kept his lips pushed together and let out a hiss through his sharp teeth. Then he immediately pushed himself up, but then goes back down when you pressed your hand against his chest.  

He would not dispute with you on this. 

Boothill thanked the celestial beings above for directing your attention to a bullet that was deep into his upper bicep between the metal, and you moved to search through your drawer for some tweezers or pliers, yet Boothill elevated himself slightly to catch a glimpse of your face through the obscure darkness that concealed your exquisite appearance.

The glow of his crimson eyes illuminated only your doll like face, which was quite a sight for him. Your brows were furrowed in concentration, and your lips were pressed together, resembling a ripe peach in summer.

However, he carefully drops his sight to your lower body, his eyes widening to only spot the white laced corset you were wearing, which wasn't much. Boothill's mouth twisted into a ludicrous smirk before dropping it as you cleared your throat at him.

"Don't even think about it." Boothill snorted as you spoke with a sharp edge in your tone.

He just nods his head at you. "A-alrighty.. nngh... sweetheart. I won't..."

..

"I promise...." 

Chapter Text

Boothill kept his gaze above your ceiling, finding your hands at work on his body relaxing. 

“Why’d help me?” He whispers and tilts his head towards you.  

“My pa once told me if anyone needs help you gotta help them no matter what if they a friend or not.” You shrug. “So, I keep word on that.” 

As soon as you stated that, Boothill's cheeks were quite crimson. “Guessin’ I’m a friend then?” 

…

“No.” You effortlessly put it, and now you leaned down towards his face after removing the bullet with tweezers. It would leave a mark, but Boothill was unperturbed. 

He felt everlasting gratitude when he felt the gentle touch of your fingertips on his injured cheek.

You breathed out deeply through your nose. “They got ya pretty good, who was shootin’ at ya anyway?” With a needle in your left hand and thread in the other, you try your best to guide the thread in the needle using Boothill’s eyes that illuminated still brilliant. 

“Some old men, one looked like he didn’t want to play part. A youngin’ with white hair.” 

You halted your actions and gazed at him, blinking deliberately. Your lips pressed together till they began to shake, and you shook your head painfully slowly. 

“I told Arlan not to get involved but he doesn’t listen to me I swear….” 

Finally prepping the needle and thread, you scoot closer toward Boothill's face and move his jaw more to the side, so his cheek is in your view. “I can’t see a damn thing,” you huff and go on to turn on your oil lantern.

“.. Can I just take a peek at ya?” Boothill says cheekily, waiting for a reaction from you but it wasn’t a very good one.

The man's entire face jolted when you turned your entire body around and delivered him a light smack on the mouth. 

“Ow! T-the.. the heck was that for?!” He growled, flinching in an attempt to get closer to you, but he couldn't because the pain was too intense. 

You rolled your eyes, returning to the needle and the cut on his cheek. “For being a dick, don’t try with me.” Boothill attempted to back away as you inserted the needle into his skin, but you reassured him by dropping your voice once more, this time in a nurturing tone. “Hold still the best ya can. I’m sorry..” 

With a cautious eye, you started to stitch the wound on his cheek. But your eyes were constantly going up to look at him and then down at the patching.

His gaze was fixed on your face, and each time you glanced at him, his heart skipped a beat. 

“If it was that sheriff here instead of me he would’ve gotten a whole damn view..” Boothill said in that sharp gruffness of voice due to the fact of the cyborg’s habit of smoking many cigars along with cigarettes. “I know since how y-ya was lookin’ at him at the bar…” 

Your mouth fell wide open. 

“You sure do get a lot of guts..” You whispered near Boothill's ear and focused back at his cheek. “You think I got somethin’ for him? Maybe but it wasn’t strong like it was before.” 

The wanted man fell silent, attentively listening to your additional words.

“He was jus’ being a bartender under my pa’s care. I was workin’ on the farm with my brothers and sister. They didn’t like it but I did.” You tell him.

“I liked being around the cattle and other animals we had..” You laughed inaudibly. “Every time I came into my pa’s tavern, Gallagher would look at me with awestruck…” 

Boothill saw a shift in your entire mood. Tears threatened to fall from your formerly radiant, clouded eyes. 

Except for a little flicker of flame licking the lantern glass, everything was suddenly quiet.

“Ya can still go for him.”

As the silence was broken, you didn’t even feel yourself being pulled against Boothill. 

You didn't dare move or try to stop it. 

Despite your reluctance to make eye contact, the firm hand at the back of your head urges you to confront his gaze, triggering a familiar sense of dread as you slowly lower your head.

“I-I don’t think I’m—“ You were flustered, blush painting your cheeks and you let out a trembling gasp of air as Boothill tapped your cheekbone with a metal finger. 

“Don’t think yer what? Pretty?” He tipped his chin up, his mouth practically ghosting over your lips; all you could do was stare at him, hoping he didn't kiss you or anything. 

You attempted to move away, but his hold was too firm. 

You nod your head then close your eyes. “I-I ain’t….”

Boothill placed his head back on your pillows and he watched you start weeping, your tears growing heavier as you inhaled deeply. His chest was struck by them as they dripped down your chin. 

Your cries were difficult for Boothill to hear, so he did what any decent gentleman would do and pressed his hand against your cheek. His thumb wiped away your tears, hoping for you to cease, and you did as he shushed. 

“Shhh, it’ll be alright there sweetheart. W-we all goin’ through somethin’ now.” He pauses but continues.

“I think yer very beautiful, ya jus’ gotta pull the bull by the horns sugar.…” 

You pressed your hand against Boothill's and gave it a small squeeze before dropping it. 

“I’ll light ya a cigarette.” Boothill nods in agreement and watches you sway off the bed, but as you do so, you remove the bloodied linens and place them in a basket by the door. 

He kept his head held high watching you tidy up the room and saw you taking out a box.

“Couldn’t find the cigarettes but I found somethin’ else better. My pa had these cigars and they taste smooth. Wanna try one?” You opened the box to see whether any were taken, but none, which made Boothill raise his brow. “Don’t smoke?” Shaking your head to that, you ignited it and placed it between his chapped lips.

As you completed repairing his body, Boothill was puffing away, his expression softening. He started to go into a state of tranquility.

All wounds were bandaged and your eyes began to close.

You couldn't even clean up; you were so exhausted that you fell asleep straight on Boothill's chest, calmed by the regularity of his heartbeat, which seemed slightly mechanical. 

Boothill remained awake; as a cyborg, he did not need to sleep, and he carefully got out of bed so you could rest on something more pleasant. Little did he know you were craving his warmth. 

He looks around the room before returning to you, his hands trembling as he undoes the corset for you to avoid a hurting back the next morning. 

He held his breath, trying to be as slow as possible, and let out a sigh of satisfaction that he hadn't woken you up. 

After taking a close look at the corset, Boothill carefully laid it down on the ground. He approaches you, covers your naked body with a sheet, and brushes part of your hair out of your face while you sleep. 

After giving you a small peck on the cheek, the man heads to your bathroom to retrieve his hat, which he dropped when he first arrived. 

With his hat on his head, Boothill exits the restroom through the window, giving you one more glance before heading out. 

-

Boothill strolls by himself, looking down at the remaining stub of the cigar in his hand before crushing it with his fingers and observing the pieces as they descend to the ground.

Then with a smirk creeping upon his lips, the cyborg pulls out what appears to be one of his wanted posters and flips it around, now pulling out a pencil from his back pocket of his pants.

He started writing down everything that came to mind about you; the words ran through his thoughts, and he smiled like a damn love fell bastard but then it soon faltered.

His thoughts return to him taking off the corset from your body, his chest started to heave in and out and heavy breaths started to escape his lips. Boothill felt more constricted because of the glance he took of your well-proportioned curves and supple breasts pressing against your bed sheets, but he quickly shook the sensation away out of a desire to not be such a monster who only cared for your body. 

Under the light of a post lamp, he completes his writing and kisses the paper. He had to give this to you this immediately.

Perhaps tomorrow morning....

Chapter Text

He lay alongside you with a flower in his brown, short, messy hair, to the fields of poppies and marigolds, the unending summer and sunshine that filled your skin with an everlasting brilliance. 

He gazed at you with such tenderness. Such kindness made your heart flutter and fly like the birds that flew by you both. 

He sees your fingertips form a beautiful flower crown, petals dropping to your pastel green skirts, and you have such joy in your eyes that Gallagher wishes he could drop on his knee right now. 

He wanted that this moment would stay with him forever, but he knew deep down that it would not. 

Being around such beauty as you made Gallagher smile, from the dirt under your fingernails, to the way your skin tone appears under the sun's rays and the glitter from the lake. 

“What are ya lookin’ at?” You say this to him while laughing, making Gallagher blink quickly as the idea of marrying you here now vanished from his mind. 

The young man made an effort to conceal his blush so you wouldn't see how nervous he was.

Gallagher, now positioned on his side, flashed a smile towards you as he adjusted the toothpick nestled in his mouth. “Nothin’.” He now directs his attention to the flowers beneath him and picks a few poppy petals with his fingers. 

As he watches you complete the flower crown and lay it on his head, he poses the question. “I’m gon’ be sheriff, ain’t that nice?”  

Your once bright smile disappears, and you shrug. “Don’t know if that’s really nice Gallagher, it’s dangerous..” 

Gallagher sighs, taking the flower crown off of his head to look at it and then at you again. 

“Oh come now (Y/n). Ain’t ya proud of me?” 

You glanced down at the flower crown he was holding, clenched in a sort of rage, and you gave him a single nod. 

“I am….” 

-

Your bedroom was filled with the enchanting morning light that made you feel as though the sun was wrapping itself around you and caressing your bare back.  

Regrettably, the act of waking up proved to be the most challenging aspect of your day, and today was particularly dreadful. Upon opening your eyes, you were greeted by a pounding headache following a night of only a few hours of sleep.. 

You just wanted to lie in bed and inhale the scent of gunpowder and whiskey on your pillows from the man who came here last night. 

Wait—

You jolted up, nearly letting out a scream as you looked about desperately to see whether the man was still around, but to your relief, everything was intact and quiet. 

Feeling such emptiness caused you to bite your lower lip, elevating yourself slightly up so you could peep towards the bathroom door and see something gleaming in your eyes. You raised your brow but paid no attention.

You sighed as your hair stuck to your sticky cheeks, blinking away the crust in your eyes before falling face-first onto your pillows. 

Another day of work.

To you, getting ready for your job was as simple as tightening your corset and slipping into a baby blue dress with lots of white frills and lace, as well as matching long stockings that went up to your thighs.

Your hair was sticking straight up, and even though you were having trouble using bobby pins, you managed to hold your look in place by applying the most basic makeup possible: blue eye shadow, charcoal for mascara, and ruby red lips. 

The more you thought about the dazzling object, the more you were unable to shake it from your mind. As a result, you gradually turned away from your chair and approached it silently before picking it up. 

You grasped it within your palms and tilted your head slightly.

It was a metal star with writing upon it that caused you to squint. When you finally managed to decipher the text above the shimmering metal star, you were left bewildered.

"Galaxy Ranger?" You whisper, your brow furrowing in puzzlement. You needed to hide this somewhere safe, but where?

You looked down between your breasts. 

It wouldn't be worth looking down there...

After giving it some thought while cradling it in your bosom, you hurried downstairs to open your tavern.

-

Mixing drinks wasn't your thing, but your bartender had called it off today, so you had to do it all yourself, but the tips would be appreciated. 

For it was a slow morning, the afternoon was a little livelier, and you were making a cocktail for a lone cowboy when you had the impression that someone was watching you from a distance, so you turned to look over your shoulder and found no one there.

"Are ya done?" The man says, scratching his mustache, and you let out a sigh. "Yeah, here's ya drink." You pass the cocktail to him on your right. You picked up a beer pint glass to wipe away the residue and suds by letting it reflect in the light, but when you placed it on the counter, your eyes were startled as a robotic hand appeared. 

This smooth fuck.

His back was facing you, machine arms splayed across your counter, holding something folded like a piece of paper between his fingers. You had to comply and smile. "Finally payin' for the drink?" 

"Naw.." He drawled meticulously and flicked his hat up, but you couldn't see his eye since his bang was in the way, though you could see the mischievous smirk he gave you. "This for ya cutie..."

Boothill taps his two fingers as if signaling that you should accept the piece of paper; you hesitate but open it slowly and carefully, rolling your eyes.

"Ya gave me a picture of you?" You lifted the wanted poster. Boothill snorts, making a twirling motion with a finger for you to reveal what's written on the back.  

You began by slowly turning the paper to read the writing, lowering yourself slightly to improve your visibility in the light, and scanning the page with your eyes. Boothill leaned slightly closer, his back still to the pub table, as if noticing something between your chest and wondering if this was the metal he lost. 

He curls a hand behind his back and tilts closer to you, then completely turns around to snake his fingers into your chest.

You were so preoccupied that you failed to notice his hand until you felt something cold against your skin. A tiny squeak escaped from you and you glared at Boothill while he successfully removed the metal star from between your breasts and planted a kiss on it. "Thanks doll, was lookin' for this.."

"Y-you..you!" You ran out of words to say, so you grabbed the closest cloth to you and started hitting Boothill with it. The paper you didn't finish fell on the floor right beside your heel. He let out a boisterous laugh and began to grip his stomach, wiping tears away from his eyes.

With your cheeks flushed, you folded your arms across your chest, only to become more flushed as Boothill leaned in and purred in your ear. "Come on love.. lost for words? Maybe I can help ya find 'em... well more so ya shoutin' them out...." 

Turning around slightly, eyes half-lidded, you found yourself drawn to this cyborg, and he felt the same way as Boothill rested both palms against the counter, staring down at you like vulnerable prey.

You eyed him up and down, raising a sharp brow. Boothill wanted to pounce on you, force you to the floor, tie you up, and make you moan his name in front of all these men. His smirk grew, exposing his sharp teeth he so desperately wanted to mark you with.

He desperately needed—

You were both interrupted by a clearing of the throat, followed by a cloud of smoke being blown in your direction.

"Am I interruptin' somethin'?" Gallagher draws out, a dimly lit cigar dangled from his lips, casting an eerie glow upon his exhausted features, eyes flashed with a malicious look. 

Chapter Text

Your heart seemed to drop straight into your stomach, making you pale as you turned to slowly face Gallagher, who was glowering. 

“I-I…” You had to maintain your composure, but you knew exactly what to do. As a result, you leaned over the bar to block Boothill from Gallagher's line of sight. 

“Hey, didn’t h-hear ya come in….” You inform him, taking a bottle of bourbon whiskey and pouring it for Gallagher while leaving the bottle near him. “Course. Too busy I’m guessin’.” With a stern reply, the sheriff hunches over and peers at Boothill's current seat.

“Don’t he look familiar?” 

Boothill adjusts his hair, shifts his seat further from Gallagher, and patiently awaits your offer to serve him a beverage too.

You accomplished this by offering him some apple ale that you had received locally. 

Boothill nearly spills the pint on his lap, but he keeps drinking it nevertheless, his robotic fingers clenching around its hilt. 

“No, I don’t think so.” You responded to Gallagher's question. You needed to divert him, but how? 

Ya jus’ gotta pull the bull by the horns sugar…

With each passing moment, the memory of Boothill's words grew fainter, until you blinked slowly. 

“Can I get a kiss for payment there sheriff?” 

Gallagher seemed to be swallowing forcefully as he eyes the cyborg, keeping his gaze fixed on Boothill, who remained eerily silent until choking on his drink and then turned to face you. 

Gallagher's face slowly lit up with a smile before he burst into laughter. His sluggish gaze was now fixed on your face, particularly on your full lips, and he sighed briefly. "Aw sweetheart, that's mighty kind of ya..."

Following the removal of his cowboy hat, the sheriff placed it carefully on his seat, then approached you, encircling your waist with both arms before effortlessly lifting you onto the bar table.

"I always waited for this..." The sheriff muttered against your beautiful lips and kissed them with his eyes closed. 

You kept your eyes open, focusing them on Boothill as an indication that he should leave while Gallagher was preoccupied, and then you closed them.

-

Gallagher kept his mouth shut while tending to his ebony-colored stallion, Blackjack. He was pouring oats into the trough to drown out your laughter while you were conversing with another farm lad, but he was quite the looker. 

You were deeply infatuated with him, captivated by his magnetic personality and charm from a very young age.

Luka is his name. He was a well-known bare-knuckle boxer with some strong punches and a large collection of metals, yet he was one of the regular folk who was from the Underworld, Belobog, a town beneath far away from yours. He didn't give a damn about fame. 

"Gonna see me fight tonight (Y/n)?" Luka tells you he had the largest grin on his face when you were mending up his arm; it was rusty, but a little polishing from you held it back together.

You push the (h/c) locks that have fallen in front of your face back with a swipe of your palm and smile up at Luka, blush on your cheeks. As you prepare to respond, Gallagher places a big bucket filled with frigid water in front of you. Luka furiously scowled at him after some splashed on both of you.

"Ain't nobody wanna go to those stupid fights. Jus' nothin' but gamblin' off yer life!" Gallagher says, and Luka glares up at him, throwing a punch at Gallagher that didn't land, but was only inches away from his face, causing Gallagher to recoil.

 Luka's reaction was to snort and then cross his arms. "'Cause you're not strong enough. You know what happened last time you were in the ring pal." 

Gallagher turns his head away from you two, not wanting you to see the rage on his face, but you could feel it seeping out of him.

"We'll see how it goes tonight..." 

.....

Each hit was harsher than the last, each blow scarring the face you adored, and it became clear to you that this was no ordinary fight. 

It was a fight to the very end.

The men who were shouting around you and Gallagher were betting on Luka, and their bets were growing bigger by the moment. The crowds were also becoming more boisterous. 

They were yelling for him to hurry up and finish the job with a hard stroke of his metal arm, which usually ended the fight, but this time you could see how fatigued Luka was. 

This fight was going on longer than anticipated; the other competitor was still on his feet, continually moving and around Luka, who was battling to keep upright. 

He clenches his metal hand into a fist and aims it towards his opponent's face, while the other fighter, wearing a victorious smirk, does the same.

He misses him, the fist in the air, and Luka's eyes are filled with fear.  

The competitor's fist impacted on Luka's chin, causing a horrible crack that instantly silenced the spectators surrounding you both.

"S-shit.." Luka's voice trembled as he stumbled and collapsed, prompting a jubilant outburst from the crowd. All you can do is look in horror as everyone moves forward to approach the ring while ignoring Luka.

You began running, ignoring Gallagher's plea to stay back and you managed to push your way out of the crowd to only drop to your knees once making it inside of the ring. 

You hurry over to Luka's body, cradling him tight, tears streaming down your cheeks. You begin to shake him before placing your lips against his.

"H..h-hey...." You whisper in his ear. "Y-ya did great...i-it's over now....."

No reply.

Raising your gaze, you observed that Luka's eyes remained open, yet distressingly, blood started trickling from his nostrils and lips, and the mesmerizing blue tint of his eyes bore a stark resemblance to the stillness of death.

His lifeless body now rests in your embrace.

They say your mind replays memories for seven minutes after death, so maybe they were all of you for Luka...

-

The unexpected sound of glass shattering caused you to pull back from the kiss, but to your astonishment, Gallagher collapsed to the ground, bits of glass scattered around him and a wound present on the back of his head. 

Boothill stood behind him, peering down at Gallagher with lust for blood in his gaze as he crushed the last enormous shard of glass with the hilt of his boot and let out a cackling roar of laughter that sounded inhumane. 

You were unaware that tears were streaming down your face.

You reached for your hand to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks, and then, frustrated, you grasped Boothill's arm and pulled him into you.

"The h-hell were ya thinkin'!?" Boothill gives you a small flinch when you yell at him. 

This was a bad idea.

With all eyes on the two of you, you abruptly released the man's robotic arms to raise only your own as some of your customers brandished their firearms at Boothill rather than you.

Beneath you both, Gallagher groans and fumbles for his revolver, only to shriek painfully as Boothill uses the same tip of his boot to press against the sheriff's fingers before snatching you off of the table. 

Boothill spins you around, presses your back into his chest, wraps one leg around yours, and begins to grind against the lower part (butt) of your body to assure dominance among these men. 

Your cheeks flourished pink.

Screw your filthy mind.

You hear a noise and gasp to see Boothill's hand forming into a revolver, he then places the barrel of it against your temple, grinning diabolically at them. 

"Don't shoot or ya kill us both!" The cyborg barks out. "Who ya gon' pour yer drinks if ya do!?"

He initiates his movement, strategically using you as a shield to make a swift exit from the tavern. Boothill keeps his arm around your waist, refusing to let go, which causes you to slam your hands against his metal arm.

"Will you please let me fuckin' go?" You say with a grit of your teeth, keeping your gaze fixed on the doors of your tavern, and your face falls into a state of bewilderment as Boothill rushes over to the horses to steal Gallagher's stallion, but he is unaware of this. 

He drops you on the ground, and you start coughing from the grit. 

Now he has rope in his grip, and he grips both of your wrists to tighten part of the rope around them before hoisting you onto the horse.

The wanted man does the same thing, him patting the stallion just once so he would stay calm, he pulled you closer to him and lets out an anxious shudder. He pressed his chin into the crook of your neck before straightening himself.

"Jus' hold on.." 

With that stated, Boothill kicks Blackjack's side, and the two of you begin riding away from town into the ever-blazing sun beyond the horizon.

Chapter Text

Blackjack's nostrils flared to the breaking point as Boothill maintained control over him, the wind growing hotter as he picked up speed.

The heat was intensely beating down on you both, causing your face to get sticky from perspiration, and you were unable to even clean your face because you couldn't reach the handkerchief in your dress's little back pocket.

You saw that Boothill was sipping from what appeared to be some kind of canteen and that he was not sweating when you looked up at him.

What's visible around the rim resembles some kind of black tar. “Got any water in there?” You question him, your shoulders slumped when Boothill shrugs. 

“Nah, jus’ oil.” 

You pause, with a slight raise of your brow, and cast a look of disdain towards him. “What in the hell? Oil?” 

Boothill clicks his tongue, stopping Blackjack. “Newsflash sweetie, I’m a cyborg. I don’t got to drink water.” 

You scrunch your nose and sighed. 

“Can’t we just-“ You raise your wrists, cutting yourself off. “Can’t ya just take this rope off? My wrists hurt pretty bad…” 

Boothill hesitates before pulling out the same knife that caused you to flinch previously. He smirks at it. 

“Come on kitty, I won’t hurt ya if ya keep flinchin’ and movin’ around like a darn worm.” 

He placed his canteen beside his waist, lifted your wrists, and commenced slicing the rope.

He continued to look at you, cocking his head just a tiny bit. “What’s yer name?” The wanted man questions you, even though the rope was pulled, he managed to hold your wrists together. 

“Why you wanna know?” Your eyes narrowed.

“Ooh, feisty ain’t ya?” Boothill chuckled. “Weren’t ya jus’ nice to me the other time we met doll?” 

You huff, clenching your hands together. “I ain’t tellin’ unless I get off of this horse.” 

Boothill remained silent for a while until he leaned forward, parted his lips, and began to painfully irritate you by dragging his tongue up the side of your cheek.

You recoiled in disgust as soon as you started to move away, trying to clean up the dark track of saliva his tongue had left behind.

“Ya were blushin’ back there like a darn innocent woman whose skirts were lifted. Don’t be actin’ coy with me..” 

“Idiot.” Muttering this beneath your breath, you ball your fist and give Boothill a straight blow to the nose.

When he yells and releases his grip on your wrists, you leap off Blackjack and start to flee. 

Boothill was close behind you, wiping away his blood with the back of his palm and chuckling. Dust kicked beneath Blackjack's hooves.

“Kitty can scratch too! Don’t be dumb and try to run off sweetheart, ya won’t make it long in this heat!” 

You flipped him off, which made Boothill laugh harder. 

..

You slow your stride and come to a complete halt, looking down at your heels. You were becoming fatigued, the heat was too much for you, and you felt like you were about to collapse. 

“Why’d ya cry?” You take a few moments to look up at Boothill when he whispers beside you, and you blink gradually.

“What?” 

Boothill crossed his arms when he stopped the black steed, and you did as well. “When ya kissed him..” 

You began to tremble, now shaking your head. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it…” 

With a groan, the cyborg dismounts from the horse and grasps the reins with his prosthetic hand. 

“Tell me.” 

It took some time for you to think. You were unwilling to—

“T-the last person I kissed was a close friend, the person I loved and.. and I didn’t know how to react. I-inside of me I was petrified but…” You pause, blinking away the tears. “I don’t wan’ fall in love with someone who can die on me again…..” 

Boothill’s eyes widened. 

“That’s why? That’s why ya don’t like him? ‘Cause you’re scared yer gonna lose him….” 

With a nod, you turn your head away. “It’s not only that too.” 

After what was said, there’s just a pregnant pause between the two of you. You sighed at the silence before bringing the stallion closer to you, Blackjack pressed his snout against your shoulder and you turned around to pet him, leaning your face against his. 

Something in Boothill's handsome face shifts, and he uncrosses his arms. “Sorry for what I said and did back there, was tryin' to distract 'em while I could. Hope ya take nothing personal.." 

He looks down at the sand, his hat casting a shadow over his face.

In an instant, every part of your body relaxed, and you took a step closer to Boothill, leaning in to stare up at him. You tilted his hat up slightly, your lashes fluttering, and offered him a little smile. "It's alright. I forgive ya..." 

Once more, you seem to be taken aback by the cyborg's change of his rough demeanor, as evidenced by the way his teeth bit his lower lip and his usually tense jaw slackened. Still, Boothill couldn't help but flush the closer you got.

Without warning, you take his hat and shove it right in his face, the smile on your lips turning sour. "But what ya did to Gallagher wasn't right! Stole his horse and injured him, yer gon' be hanged!" 

Boothill grumbled as his hat obscured his vision, then let out a seething sigh and grabbed his hat, gripping it so tightly. He intended to take apart it piece by piece.

"Well I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't like the way ya were actin' with him!" He said with a bit of sass, hate watching you walk away from him. 

He lumbers toward you, grabbing your arm to pull you in. 

"Let me go, you idiot! I said let go!"

Your beating heart flared with such anger, also building up in your boiling veins as you began to pound your fists against his metal chest. The only thing you could do was stop when you seemed to realize that Boothill remained eerily composed and didn't recoil from your blows. 

He hesitates for a moment before gently pressing his lips against yours.

To your surprise, he was quite delicate, almost hesitant to bite your precious lips, but he quickly closed his eyes and engulfed you in an embrace that was extraordinarily pleasant for you. 

He intertwined his with yours and there wasn't an ounce of oil on his tongue; instead, he tasted like hickory smoke and the ale you served him at the tavern.

You were hesitant to kiss him back, but eventually, you succumbed and gave in. Your lips are supple, alluring to the eye, and gentle compared to any other woman he has kissed. 

He had never felt this way about anyone. It made Boothill crave more....

"Don't ever lick me again.." As you break the kiss, you gasp for breath, and Boothill smirks as he observes the string of saliva breaking and some of it falling onto your lips. The scoundrel licked and nibbled your lips as he leaned closer once again.

You glance up at him innocently, furrowing your brows together, and Boothill breaks out in a clap as he steps away from you.

He licked his mouth, savoring what was left of you. "Gorgeous! What a work of art!" He points out, placing his hat back on his head and you raise a finger to your lips to feel that they were swollen. He walks back towards the black stallion, patting the upper portion of his right leg before jumping onto the saddle. 

You hate him, utterly dreadful of a man. Disgusting. Vile and-

Boothill approaches you with an adorable toothy grin on his face and his hand extended, ready for you to accept it. You can also see that his expression has softened. "Come on, let's get goin' and see if there's a town nearby. It's gon' get dark...." 

Taking his hand, you held your breath.

You are ready to venture out with this buffoon.

Chapter Text

"What're runnin' from son?" A gruff and fatherly tone of voice caused Boothill to look up from the smoke of the fire that was burning brightly, cooking a stew the elder had made. 

The smell of it cooking made his mouth water, and peeking into the pot and seeing the carrots floating around along with potatoes and meat made his stomach growl. 

Boothill had to ponder for a moment, sadness written over the young boy's face, and he sniffled, brushing away tears that streamed down his cheeks. "N-nothin', I ain't runnin' from anything.." 

The sight of a cane entered Boothill's vision, and he widened to see that the man used the point of his cane to tilt his head up, which startled him, and his enormous eyes wandered to a woman who appeared immediately beside him, causing him to tremble. 

"Here sweetheart, eat up." She was so beautiful to Boothill, with her long crimson hair and gentle eyes that were genuine. 

He takes the wooden bowl from her, stares at the steaming stew she has poured, and remains silent as the man speaks again.

Welt drops the cane, allowing the tip to stick in the sand under them, and lets out a rumbling of laughter.

"Best to forget 'bout that past, yer strong boy. Don't forget." He stood now. "Wipe 'em tears away."

Tears spilled into the stew. 

They ruined the broth, making it saltier.

Boothill ate it slowly as if he was about to be chastised for eating too hastily but could not wait. Welt seemed to notice, raising his brow. 

"Whoa now boy! Don't choke on them bones!" He shouts and Himeko is quick to give Boothill a pat on the back as the cyborg begins coughing.

It was his first experience eating actual human food. Boothill already dislikes it, but he eats it nonetheless to avoid wasting food.

First time...

Where he resided, food was either scarce or never provided.

Throughout the ten years of his life, he thought of the orphanage as his home, festering for ten years in a place of unimaginable pain and sorrow. 

Working was for no boy.

No boy like Boothill. 

He was designed and developed for humanity's worst since he was so simple to mend and patch up, and he knew he could get away with anything. 

Hell, when he turned ten, he received a pistol. One he still carries to this day. 

Con artists operated that deplorable orphanage, creating to get away with crime. 

With only some credits in his back pocket and the fortunate shot of a pistol, Boothill managed to flee and achieve his goal of freedom on that particular night.

He didn't turn around. Never once did he wish to take another look at the life he had. 

Boothill spent his adolescent years in and out of jail until he joined the Galaxy Rangers and was taken under La Mancha's supervision. It was then the cyborg experienced his first taste of hunting down criminals.

But on that fateful night in the bar, when a brawl broke out, Boothill was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a single gunshot altered the course of his life.

The victim was a well-known physician. 

Now there is a bounty on Boothill's head. 

His gambling and selfish wealthy husband, Aventurine, had placed it upon him and he was out for blood...

Boothill's special blood....

..

"What are you thinkin'?" Your petite voice cut through the thoughts going through Boothill's mind, making him want to sigh deeply. Rather than speaking, he remained silent and gazed out over the encroaching town.

A bullet between teeth, Boothill's jaw tightened.

He saw his posters plastered on the buildings, but they appeared to be different; he wanted to pick one up from a nearby pole, but he needed to be careful; Boothill simply made Blackjack come closer to the wanted posters. 

He had to remove the bullet from his mouth and gingerly place it back in the pistol, and the cyborg let out a hissing sound once his eye peeked at the mistakes made. 

"These idiots, they got my hair and my height wrong. I ain't that short..." 

You had to giggle at that, wrapping a hand around Boothill's bicep so you could lean down and grab for one. 

Boothill swiftly wraps an arm around your waist as you nearly slip out of the saddle, and you point to the picture with a painted nail. "Ya look kind of good with short hair, did ya have it tied up?" 

Boothill squints, considering, and froze. "Wait a minute, this is an old picture of me. How the hell they got this?" He murmured more to himself than to you, and you had to keep your eyes on it for a second before you burst out laughing again.

"My gosh, you were darn cute!" You squealed, kicking your feet with heels almost off your feet since this was the first time you had seen Boothill in his youth. 

He had a gritty appearance, like a boy you wouldn't want to bring home to your mother or father because he may cause trouble. 

The cyborg blushes indignantly and lowers his head to his chest, muttering under his breath. 

He then raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Come on girl, stop ogling at me." The poster is taken from your hands by him, and he throws it over his shoulder after crumbling it, "We gotta search for an inn." 

You sighed and crossed your legs while sporting a pout on your lips. "Why can't we just camp out?"

Boothill rolls his eyes dramatically. "Jus' keep yer mouth shut."

"Make me..." You speak a little too hastily, and Boothill abruptly stops the black stallion.

He immediately gets down from the saddle and rushes towards you, yanking you off with a grunt. 

He dragged you by your arm again. This time into a building where all you could see was a bell and a dusty book with a feather next to it on top of the front desk as you both entered.

Boothill rings the bell once.

He removes your arm then signs his name and all of a sudden he looks to his left to see a key placed by his elbow and so he takes it to only go upstairs, you following behind him to stop at the door as he goes to open it.

When the man finally unlocks the door, he finds a single bed, a table, and a chair. Boothill didn't fully register this until he heard you give yourself a small forehead slap.

"Ya got jus' a room with jus' one bed?" As you tell him, your voice growing angrier, Boothill shrugs and steps in, unexpectedly grabbing your waist and lowering you until your head nearly touches the ground.

You give him a sharp look as you notice a smirk developing on his face as he licks his lips. "Wouldn't mind sharin' a bed with you doll...." 

When you pulled out of his arms and walked over to the bed, Boothill became perplexed. 

Taking a sheet in your hands, you place it on the floor and prepare to lie down, but Boothill approaches from behind, grabbing just both of your wrists, compelling you to lie on top of the bed instead.

"Why make that pretty dress filthy on this floor, hm sugar?" He then chuckles, his breath hot on your ear as he leans closer to you, his chest pressed deep into your back, a hand lifting some of the skirts of your gown.

His chilly fingertips traced the inner part of your right leg, where a scar was present. 

The touch made you shiver.

"Don't wanna lay with a dirty dog like me?" 

Chapter Text

Like a free-roaming western bull, his thoughts were uncontrollably wild.

All it could do was fight and kick, instilling fear in those who sought to bring it down.

Blood trickled down his neck, staining the floor with little droplets, and seeing scarlet cause Gallagher's pupils to dilate. His irises covered most of his expanded eyes, and he felt blood flow down his neck, soaking his shirt.

A bull who cannot be tamed.

Whispers among the men surrounding Gallagher were all he could hear.

"Damn, how didn't he see that?" One whispers to another at a low volume so the sheriff won't hear it, but he does hear it well.

A man holding a beer bottle took a swig and then shook his head. "It's that girl I'm tellin' ya. He gon' lose his mind..." 

There is a sudden change in Gallagher's demeanor as he swiftly rises to his feet, grabbing the man's throat with his bloodied hands and forcefully slamming him onto the closest table, with a revolver pointed beneath his chin. 

He cocks it, a finger on the trigger.  

“You don’t know who took her, that fuckin’ devil took her in his very own grasp, you idiot. Who knows what he’s doin’ to her.." Gallagher firmly pushes the edge of the gun against the older gentleman's skin, a taunting smile playing on his lips as he observes the man trembling beneath him.  

It gave Gallagher the satisfaction. 

It made him feel like he had the whole town under his control. 

"He's probably out there fuckin' her like a rabid coyote, slicin' her up or maybe jus' maybe..."

Gallagher imitated the sound of a pistol being fired, causing the man to yelp and everyone around them to gasp with astonishment and dread written all over their faces.

To their amazement though, Gallagher released the man as he was thrown to the ground where he landed with thud and whimpered, curling into a small ball.

"Maybe he jus' shot her dead..." The sheriff just says this before taking out a cigar and placing it between his shaking fingers, then lighting it and blowing smoke in the face of a youngster standing near him.

"You, what's yer name?" He only sees the tears streaming down the boy's cheeks. The young lad swiftly clears them away using his sleeve before meeting Gallagher's gaze. 

He looked scrawny and unkempt. Covered in many scars.

"A-Arlan sir...."

Gallagher inhales and then exhales the bitter smoke. "Who was she to ya? No other man here ain't cryin' so spit it out."

As a result, Arlan grew frightened and started to clutch his hands anxiously.

"She's like a sister to me." His voice was so low that Gallagher had to hunch over to make out what the little boy was saying. "S-she takes good care of me....."

Odd, she never spoke of you before.. Gallagher thought to himself and sighed.

"I see ya always with a couple of guys, so I'll ask ya to do a favor for me and you can get whatever you want. Got it?"

Arlan displayed a moment of uncertainty but ultimately gave a confirming gesture by nodding, his snowy white hair with black tips falling on his eyes. 

Gallagher grins mischievously in response, lightly tapping his cigar to dislodge some of the tobacco, which then lands on the floor. 

"Perfect."

...

Arlan nudges a rock under his unpolished shoe which had a hole in the bottom, his hands enveloped in his pockets as he strides toward the horse stables.

Gallagher said his choice and so Arlan made his selection, opting for a petite chestnut mare adorned with white speckles on her hindquarters and face.

"Hi there." He informs her, the horse snorts back in answer, and she delicately prods his shoulder. The boy then examines the stable door's metal plate, which bears her name. "Good girl Liberty, good girl.."

Arlan gave a gentle pat upon her snout, then gazed at her blue eyes with a smile before securing the leather reins. 

- 

He sneaked over to your windowsill to see the delectable dessert that you had baked early that morning, drawn by the pleasant smell of cinnamon and apple.

The lovely sound of your singing drifted further from the kitchen. 

He considers it, but his rascal side takes over and laughs as he flees with the pie to the horse stables that your father formerly owned. Beside his favorite horse, he takes a seat, beginning his eating by delicately breaking some of the buttery crust.

Upon reaching the filling, Arlan gently blew on the apple slice he had extracted from inside to cool it down before feeding it to the horse.

He patiently waited for her to finish eating before helping himself to some, leaving the remainder for her to enjoy.

You scolded Arlan upon discovering crumbs around his mouth. He appeared dejected, almost on the verge of tears. However, your response was to offer comfort through a warm hug and gentle kiss on his cheek.

An embrace he will always remember.

-

The fond memory quickly disappeared.

Gallagher advised going with a group, even though Arlan preferred to go solo on this mission. Arlan was aware deep down (Y/n) harbored strong negative feelings towards the men he frequently associated with, so best to keep that hidden.

"Are you heading somewhere?" Asta's voice perked up as she appeared next to him, holding a basket filled with freshly picked apples.

"Asta, I'm sure he's gonna give me enough money to get me a good home. Don't ya want that?" Asta slightly frowned when she heard Arlan's desperate tone of voice.

"Isn't (Y/n) your home? She tried to help you plenty of times but you keep turning your back on her." She replies.

Asta halts momentarily before moving closer to her friend.

"What happened?" When she told him, Arlan shook his head. "(Y/n) is f-fine...."

Asta scowled at him as he broke down unexpectedly, sniffling and turning aside to mask his sorrow.

"Stop crying you!" Asta playfully flicked his forehead, causing Arlan to stifle his sobs, his gaze shifting towards her.

With her hand now resting on her hip, a smile of teeth spread across Asta's face.

"Go home Arlan. For your own good."

She presents an apple to Liberty, giggling as the horse accepts it and joyfully consumes it from her hand's palm. 

Asta departs and Arlan gazes as she fades into the distance, he needs to now focus solely on the task at hand.

Find you and not bring you back to Gallagher. 

Finally home. 

Arlan pressed his right heel gently against Liberty's side and firmly tugged the reins to bring upward towards the sky. In response, the horse lifted her front legs off the ground, then returned back down, emitting a loud whinny while shaking her head vigorously.

They were now off.

Arlan was unaware that the sheriff was observing him from his office, leading him unintentionally extinguish his newly lit cigar by stepping on it.

"Follow him."

Argenti wrinkled his nose in disapproval.

"Why should I do that?" The red-haired man said, standing casually with folded arms against the doorway, casting a brief sidelong glance at Gallagher. He was positioned near the window, an arm resting upon it.

Though Argenti could see Gallagher had a lot on his mind, he showed no concern for it. The only thing that held his attention was ensuring your well-being.

Gallagher gradually shifts his gaze towards him, obscured by a shadow cast by his hat.

"Because she has a weakness for the both of you..." 

Chapter Text

Boothill had managed to sneak beneath the skirts of your dress, almost prompting a gasp from you; however, you maintained composure, cheeks ablaze, struggling to maintain your composure. 

He had to use his strength to gently part your legs, carefully licking and caressing the insides of your thighs, ensuring to avoid any contact with the scar. 

Boothill abruptly pants, licking his lips, and his hot breath reaches your sodden cunt. 

The overwhelming situation caused you to become wet as Boothill gently parted your thighs with his cold hands which provided a strange yet pleasing sensation. 

He approached closer, letting out a mechanic-like purr. “Ya wore ‘em for me? Black with lace, jus’ how I like ‘em kitten~” 

Boothill’s nose hits your spot. “Jus’ remember I use teeth, sweetheart, not mah tongue~” 

“Ow..h-hey! O-ow!” He shouts while attempting to shield his head while you relentlessly strike it with your clenched fists. 

He eventually came out of your dress, whimpering and stroking the back of his head. 

“T-teeth?! Are ya insane?!” You let out a quick cry, gathering your skirts in your grasp and smoothing them over to hide everything beneath, your hair disheveled across your face. “We.. w-we sensitive down there you idiot!”

Boothill paused, his brows knitting together in confusion, his chin supported by his palm as stayed knelt beside the bed while you tried to make yourself more presentable, but it was hopeless. 

The sound of your heartbeat raced loudly in the silence as both of you remained motionless, locked in a gaze, the tension mounting until a sudden widening of Boothill's uncovered eye broke the stillness. 

“What do ya mean sensitive?” 

He was asking a basic question with sincere intent. 

This made you want to die, curl up somewhere in this room, and die.

“You don’t know how to please a woman?” You inform him with an arched eyebrow.

Boothill appeared visibly surprised, his face and neck flushed red, and he burst into loud laughter with his mouth agape, seemingly at a loss for words. “W-wh..” 

He pauses. 

“Of course I do, forget it!” Abruptly, he turns around and crosses his arms, muttering beneath his breath. You came to two realizations as a result. 

Boothill is a virgin or has a small brain. 

You go for a small brain for the answer. 

This elicited a slight giggle from you, causing a gentle shake of your head as you slowly extended your hand towards Boothill's. “I’ll show ya if ya want me to….”

Boothill felt his mouth dry, quivering, and slightly turning to face you, and the warm smile on your soft lips caused him to gulp loudly. 

He releases his hand away from yours. 

"Ya sure?" You quietly inform him while tilting your head, and Boothill speaks out without thinking. 

“Fine then, show me….”

You obliged, pressing his fingers to your lips and kissing them. 

You eased them downwards towards where your underwear rested, prompting you to stifle a sigh. “You can take ‘em off.” 

Boothill complied with your instructions, setting the panties aside before raising his hand once more under your guidance, exploring the creases between your folds using his fingers to gently part them. 

You allowed him to explore and familiarize himself with the sensation of a woman.

With a serious expression, Boothill proceeded to delicately stroke them using the pad of his thumb, eliciting a subtle response from you. 

You once more guide his hand, placing his thumb on your clit, and tell him to trace circular motions on it. 

This caused you to throw your head back onto the bed, letting out small gasps and moans. However, for you, that wasn't enough. 

While gently guiding Boothill to curl his first finger, he initially appeared perplexed until your gaze met his, directing his finger to explore the delightful sensation of entering you.

“Go ahead..” You murmured low to the cyborg with a whimper escaping from you, and Boothill begins pumping the finger in and out of you while keeping his gaze fixed on your flushed face. 

The way you bit your lip in ecstasy, the small beads of sweat on your forehead, and the tears that welled up in your eyes, it was all so beautiful to him. 

You could handle one, so you instruct Boothill to add another. He does, but this time he does it too quickly (his metal fingers were a bit sharp too), causing you to yelp.

You meant to reassure him, but his next words nearly crushed your heart into innumerable bits. 

He did care for you.

“I-I’m scared that I’m hurtin’ ya…” Boothill murmurs softly, hesitant to proceed.

You gracefully lifted your hand and delicately caressed his cheek with the back of your fingers and knuckles, all while maintaining a gentle smile as you slowly let go of his hand. “It’s alright, ya did good…..” 

Despite the early hour, the warmth of the rising sun enveloped you as you lay snuggled against Boothill's broad chest. Your bodies intertwined in such a perfect manner.

Surprisingly, you drift off to sleep while daylight still shines. 

...

“So, how did ya heal up so fast when I helped ya back there?” You were awake now, but he couldn't see your eyes since they were concealed behind your long lashes. 

“Ain’t sure. It’s weird how mah body works….” He replies and this makes you snort. “That’s sure true..” 

Boothill smiles, now glancing to the window of the room directly beside the bed, and begins brushing your (h/c) locks with his hand before stopping when he notices a familiar boy halt his horse. 

He has seen him before when he was shot at, causing him to narrow his eyes. 

That’s him alright. 

The man slides himself farther down the bed, his head lying flat on the pillow and his arms around you tighter. You did not question it; perhaps he needed more heat.

“Oh, and thanks for the lovely poem. Read some of it but I think I dropped it at my tavern. Maybe when I go back I can get it.” You tell him, pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck, wanting to place a small kiss on it but what Boothill said next made you raise your head. 

“There ain’t no going back sweetheart, we got company…” 

With that said, there was a distinct and forceful rap on the door. 

You directed Boothill to hide in the closest bedroom closet while cautiously approaching the door, slightly opening it, and feeling your eyes widen in surprise. 

"A-Argenti?" You questioned, perplexed by his unexpected presence. He opens the doorway more to pull you into an embrace, his chin positioned atop your head. "Heavens, I thought you had perished..." 

He twirls you about, making you laugh, and then comes to a stop, holding your hands. “You must come with me. Gallagher has completely lost it please—"

Unexpected gunfire passed close to Argenti, while Arlan, holding a trembling pistol stood near the door. His eyes ablaze with fury.

“Drop her!” He growls, pointing it now to Argenti’s chest, where his heart is located. “I’ll kill ya and Gallagher is sure to be next!”  

Chapter Text

Your whole head was spinning, everything was happening so quickly. The males in the room appeared to you as specks as the surrounding environment warped and blurred. 

It caused your head to ache until you averted your gaze upon hearing that recognizable gentle voice tremble. 

“A-Arlan!” You gasp, flinging your head around to gape at the poor shaking boy. Your eyes filled with tears as you extended a hand to him. The gun was still aimed at Argenti, and he continued to focus solely on the other. “Arlan it’s okay sweetheart! H-he’s nice!” 

Arlan glares up at him. “Not with that grip on yer arm!” 

The unexpected squeak of the wardrobe door caused you to start shaking beneath Argenti's touch; sensing your quivering, he then drew you nearer to his chest.

He also grew fearful.

Arlan let out a startled noise, his eyes widening abruptly as he directed his gaze toward the closet. Boothill emerged slowly, brandishing his pistol and his hand mimicking the shape of a gun. His lips were peeled back in a snarl, revealing the rows of razor-sharp teeth. His red tongue flicked out, licking at his teeth. 

When he clicked one, the sound alone made you feel queasy and you wanted to vomit. 

One pointed to Argenti, the other to Arlan. 

“Boothill, don’t you dare!” You yelled at him, scared of what he was going to do next. 

The cyborg cackled with a ring of laughter that appeared utterly manic. The look in his eye was one of pure bloodlust, a primal urge to kill and this consumed his every thought. “Shall we play eeny, meeny, miny, moe?” Boothill’s voice was seething like a burn mark made by a branding iron against skin. 

“Boothill have ya gon’ mad?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You scream at him, tears dripping down your cheeks. 

“I’ve always been mad (Y/n)….” Boothill only replies. You choked out a cry, tightly holding onto Argenti's trembling arm, reluctant to release your grip. Argenti pulled you close, the armor on his arm digging into your stomach and making you uncomfortable, but you knew he was doing it to keep you safe. 

“I-I….” Argenti was lost for words. 

His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he realized that the bullet within was surely for him. Not for Arlan.

“Let go Argenti, please! Please get out of here!”  You shout, some of your (h/c) hair falling against your wet cheeks.

“Hey, ain’t that a sheriff’s pin?” Boothill hisses out, seeming to spit venom. “He got ya workin’ for him? Ain’t that a fuckin’ shame, maybe I’ll send you back to him in a coffin…” This made Argenti pale, it made him suddenly let go of you. 

“Boothill stop it!” You ran towards Boothill and you lowered his hand that was pointed to Argenti.

This wasn’t him. You had to calm him down.

“Don’t ya dare think ‘bout shootin’ him…” You whisper under your breath to him, having to place a palm over your chest to keep your beating heart relaxed, the other smooth against Boothill’s cheek but it isn't working. 

Boothill's wrath was unlike anything you had ever seen before. You've seen your father become upset, and some of your customers have reacted similarly, but this was for Gallagher, not Argenti. 

"Run." He merely says, now withdrawing your hand from his face, and Argenti swiftly descends from the bedroom to the stairs with Boothill closely pursuing him. You gathered your skirts, following the two men where they were now outside from the inn, and firmly grasped Boothill's arm, preventing him from doing harm.

Boothill pauses, then changes his hand back to its original form.

The cyborg’s lips began to quiver, tears prickling his eyes and he sighed. “I…I-I didn’t mean that….” He murmured into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Boothill now looks up, only to give Argenti a harsh glare as the man abruptly stops by his horse to look back at you.

The redness in his eye was glowing brightly. It was an angry, fiery crimson, a testament to the rage that burned within him like the beasts he had seen on many trails he has traveled before. 

This made Argenti’s eyes widen. 

His heart raced, his palms damp with sweat, and his body trembled once again.

What is happening…?

He feels the need to fight him, to take you away from Boothill and go back to Gallagher but why him? Why couldn’t he just take you and leave this place? 

Nevertheless, Boothill's gaze towards you left him speechless as Argenti noticed a glimmer of sympathy in his eye, hinting at a gentle soul hidden within what he knows has to be false.

A monster doesn't have a heart.

But who is the monster in this instance?

You placed your plush lips the corner of Boothill's mouth, kissing it gently, and you whisper something to him which made the bounty hunter calm down. He also wraps his metal arms around you, placing his chin against the inner of your shoulder to give a small peck at the naked skin of such area and closed his eyes.

Your doe (e/c) eyes glanced back admiringly to carefully watch Argenti ride off on his white stallion. You couldn't help but harbor a simmering feeling of devastation deep within since you still wanted him here to see the good that was of Boothill. 

-

Upon returning to the town, Argenti experienced a surge of fear coursing through his veins as he observed a group of men gathering around the area where the latest bounties were displayed.

He clicks his tongue, urging his horse to move closer to the pin-board. He squints to get a better view of the new hefty amount of a reward posted for Boothill's head. Seeing the increased bounty, Argenti lets out a small scoff.

How did Gallagher get so much money?

He felt much more nauseous after hearing what the men were saying. 

“I’ll come around with his head missin’ from his body, put that up on my fireplace for a trophy.” One barked to another, drunkenly taking a swig of whiskey from a hip flask that surely wasn’t his as an elder right next to him takes it away. 

He scoffs. “Yeah right, this is all a damn joke. That bastard of a sheriff is probably broke. Dealin’ with those men with casinos don’t do ya any good.”

The bounty hunters all looked up as the door creaked to an open, and who they saw silenced them entirely. Not a single sound, not even the faintest whisper of the wind, could be heard.

“Argenti!” His snarl echoed through the crowd, a chilling reminder to Argenti of the darkness that lurked within the sheriff.

Gallagher stood by the door, chewing tobacco and spitting on the ground; Argenti's jaw ticked in disgust. 

That wasn’t good…

Argenti bit his bottom lip as he dismounted from his horse, anxiously awaiting Gallagher's next words but they never came. A few strands of his crimson hair cascaded onto his face, as if attempting to conceal the ever growing fear in his emerald eyes. However, it didn't work whatsoever as Gallagher lifted his chin once entering the office and closed the door behind them with a loud shut.

"I-I'm not doing this..." Argenti says without thinking and flinches slightly, eyes wrinkling when Gallagher slams himself into his chair, bringing the annoying chewing to an abrupt stop. "He's too dangerous...."

The sudden chuckle that passed Gallagher's lips made Argenti feel like shit. "Don't worry I got a birdie to do the job for me....." 

Argenti stood up turning away from him, clutching the pin that was on his chest and he held it in his hands to only glance towards the window. He raises his hand to toss it and proceeds, hearing it land upon the sandy terrain.

The silence that followed made the atmosphere feel eerie.

“Ya shouldn’t have done that..” Gallagher snapped in a low voice, approaching from behind, but Argenti is so engrossed in his thoughts that he doesn't notice how close the sheriff is to him. With his pistol now in his grasp, Gallagher strikes him across the back of his neck with the pistol, a vile smirk on his face as Argenti collapses to the ground with a pained grunt.

Out cold.
 

Chapter Text

Dear brother, I hope to see you at my performance since I will be in the big city again! I miss you dearly and it has been such a long time since we last met. You have been so caught up in work that you have lost all connection with the family. Please write back if you receive this. 

Lots of hugs and kisses, Robin~

Sunday, with his silver locks of hair that shimmered like moonlight, ran a hand through them. A wisp of his cigar smoke curled upwards, its fragrant aroma mingling with the scent of old books that filled his study. The smoke trailed behind him like a silken ribbon, painting patterns in the air before dissipating.

The letter he received previously was also from Gallagher, his longtime friend who requested his help in locating the criminal that has been on the minds of every bounty hunter.

He didn't care that Boothill's head possessed great wealth and could lift one out of poverty; all he cared about now was finishing paperwork.

Despite Aventurine's benevolent intention of doing such an action of placing a bounty, he harbored no desire to seek out the reward because he was already extremely wealthy.

Screw that bastard. 

But something within the letter caught his eye.

The lengthy sentence about you.

Sunday’s brows furrowed together, a hand on his hip while he stared out at the glittering city of lights and advertisements. The constant hum of loud traffic and the distant chatter of people along with a trumpet playing created a symphony of urban life.

The sentence about you made Sunday ponder about your beauty. Gallagher described you as the perfect Southern Belle, such full of life and beauty that could not be described. 

He imagined you as a lovely young woman with long, flowing hair and eyes filled with light.

Perhaps he can meet you...

The thought filled him with both excitement and nerves.

Sunday then gestured for one of his butlers to fetch his telephone, the ringing echoing through the grand hall. 

As the butler returned, he snatched it with an impatient hand. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.

The voice on the opposite end of the call quivered as they softly uttered words in a hushed tone.

Sunday grimaces, squeezing the bridge of his nose before tutting disapprovingly. "I don't care. Get him on the other line. It's urgent," he barked, his voice a mix of authority and irritation. 

-

You held Boothill close. His breath, warm and comforting, caressed your shoulder, while strands of his silver-white hair, adorned with dark tips, cascaded around you like a silken veil. 

“You didn’t have to do that, he is—“ 

Boothill cuts you off as you feel the arms around your waist squeeze you tighter; he is pressing the tip of his nose deeper, allowing it to settle between the crook of your shoulder and neck. 

What caused your eyes to widen was the sensation of wetness against your shoulder, and Boothill was sniffling louder, crying, something you had never seen him do before, which made you ponder. 

You have shed tears alongside him previously, as he lay injured in your bed, showing the same kindness and love towards you at that time.

Love? What a strong word for you.....

Letting him cry was the best thing you could do right now. You knew that, but it was still hard to hear. You raised a hand and gently began to pat his back “It’s alright Boothill, you’ll be okay.” 

He shook his head, lifting it as he took a deep breath and released it slowly, a hand running over his face as he gazed down at his tired leather boots. “I-it’ll never be easy. Life ain’t easy when yer runnin’ from it all the time. I’m jus’ mad I let it happen like this….” 

His words were filled with a mix of sorrow and rage, leading him to the realization that bringing you along was only exacerbating the situation.

Boothill raises his head, making an effort to maintain eye contact with you before lowering his gaze once more.

“I’m takin’ ya home.” 

Your eyes widened, your heart beating rapidly and you wanted to question him as to why so you do so with tears springing back into your eyes. “W-why?” 

Boothill grew increasingly restless, his hands clenched into fists as he resorted to tapping his left thigh to ease his nerves. “Because I said so, that’s why! Take that boy with ya and go home!” He turns around so he wouldn’t have to face him, to not see the pain in his glossed gaze. 

“I’m takin’ her back home, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Arlan scoffs from afar as the young boy exits the inn silently, his arms hanging by his side, clearly indicating his desire to have no association with Boothill and his only main concern was for your safety.

“We came pretty far but—“ You purse your lips together, letting out a quivering sigh. “I promise my pa on his deathbed that I gotta take care of that tavern—“ You paused and continued to speak, shifting your gaze towards Boothill who remained motionless, his back turned and his strong shoulders slumped. “Ya know a thing or two about not breakin’ promises….” 

Boothill came to a complete stop, tears forming in his eyes, and he began fumbling around his jacket and pants pockets for his cigarettes. 

He fetches his container, raising it towards his face as Boothill places a cigarette in his mouth before closing the compartment. He then attempts to locate his lighter, only to freeze as he feels the touch of your delicate hand slipping into his back pocket and retrieving the lighter.

Boothill almost drops the cigarette on the floor, but he keeps it between his teeth, closer to the corner of his mouth, as you approach him and light the cigarette, kissing his lips in the process. 

You also wiped away the remnants of his tears. 

“W-what am I gon’ do with ya?” Boothill murmurs lowly only for you to hear as you are still nearby. You flutter your lashes up at him, giving him a smirk that made Boothill blush darkly, the rosiness you adored. 

“Take me back home but I don’t know…”  As you extend your finger to gently tap the metal surface of Boothill's chest, you find yourself tracing circles with the pad of your finger.

With each movement closer from Boothill, you felt smaller. That wasn't going to stop you.

You wanted this bad boy to feel better. 

Boothill exhaled some smoke, there was a slight smirk on his lips to find you in a daze while staring only at eye level at his chest, watching him take deep breaths. 

He leaned down, keeping his eye on Arlan who was occupied by his horse to only open his mouth and settle some of his sharp teeth against the shell of your ear.

“Leave those panties behind for me doll, I wan’ ‘em~…” 

Your ear grew warm, and your cheeks turned rosy as you looked up at him with a sense of innocence.

You held that look but you were oh, so devilish. 

Giggling at that, you brought a finger to your lips to tap at them. “Why, being so tough, hm?” You continue. “Can’t ya jus’ come over once in a while or when the full moon is up? I mean think about it..you can start havin’ a collection….”

Boothill gazes at you with a perplexed expression, as if you had two heads, causing his entire face to turn a deep shade of crimson.

You surprised him yet again, causing him to mutter something under his breath. 

From Arlan's perspective, it appeared that you were simply standing in front of each other. 

After returning Boothill's lighter, you proceeded towards Arlan who was preparing his horse. You embraced him and gently kissed his forehead. “Yer actin’ like a grown man now and not my baby, what changed you?” 

Arlan pauses and smiles up at you. “I’m still the same (Y/n). Jus’ been shootin’ more..things like that….” 

You returned the smile, brushing your hand over the scar on his chin and letting out a huff. “Alright, just don’t try to shoot your eye out.” 

He scrunched his nose and stared at Boothill who was now leaning against the inn's wall, cigarette dangling from his lips. A thick cloud of smoke billowed around him, obscuring his features that were of mixed emotions.

As you approached Arlan's horse, its sleek, pied coat shimmering in the sunlight, you couldn't resist extending your hand. The gentle mare, with eyes as soft as velvet, leaned her head forward. You began to stroke her soft muzzle, she pressed her snout against your palm. 

“What we gon’ do with him?” He tells you low, which makes you pause and look down at your heels.

You couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m stuck Arlan. I need to go home but what’s so good about that town anyway?” 

Arlan’s eyes widened and he suddenly shook his head. "Don't think like that (Y/n), that's where you belong. Not with a crook like that bastard.."

With you looking up from the horse's back, your cheeks were dappled pink, a pout on your lips and a glazed look in your eyes as you followed Arlan's sight to Boothill. 

"Maybe I can help him...." You whisper to yourself softly not wanting Arlan to hear, heart growing heavier with a weight you couldn't quite explain, and a faint smirk crept across your lips.

Chapter Text

“You know what they say right?” Your father's words echoed in your ears as you stood next to him, handing a gentleman his drink, gazing up at him with a sparkle in your eyes.

You shook your head at that. “What papa?” 

Your father approaches you with a smile, moving closer to whisper something in your ear. “You find richness in a man with a good heart of gold who loves for who you are on the inside.” He places a hand on your shoulder. “Not on the outside.” 

You arched an eyebrow at him and inclined your head, a few strands of your (h/c) hair cascading down your exposed shoulder as you wore a light dress due to the muggy weather that afternoon.

“You don’t think Gallagher is a good man papa?” You murmur to him and he breaks into a smile, followed by a chuckle. “I didn’t say that but….” 

He pauses and then sighs. “Don’t think he’s the right for you sweetheart.” 

You shook your head and your visage became completely sour, and you now had tears in your eyes, “why what’s wrong with him? He’s a hard-workin’ family man!” 

Your father disapproved of you becoming defensive and he set down the drink he intended to discard.

“Listen here young lady, don’t shout at me. I’m at the age where I’ve seen all and how people act. I’m tellin’ what’s on my mind.” He gives you the empty glass mug to clean and you take it in your hands, staring down at the reflection of your face on the mug. 

“I understand papa….” 

Your father's dislike towards Gallagher remained a mystery to you, despite Gallagher's presence in offering help on the farm or helping out at the tavern.

Because you knew you would never be able to meet his needs, you let tears well up in your eyes and fall.

…

Once it was the afternoon, and you found yourself back on the farm. The sheep and the lambs were by your side, staying close to you as you gently ran your hand through their soft fleece.

Among them all, one stood out as your personal favorite; the runt who has been overlooked by the older sheep but not the lambkins. 

Upon discovering him, you lifted him up and then settled back onto the large rock, cradling him gently against your chest like an infant child.

Your father's flock was visible in the distance beside the cows your brother observed, but he returned inside to get fresh lemonade.

You looked down at the lamb, grinning softly as it looked up at you until you saw the ram of the flock perking his head up.

Upon hearing a sudden howl, your brow raises as you swiftly turn around to catch sight of a distant grey wolf that appears almost white.

The peculiar red eyes appeared to be fixed on you, causing you to freeze in place, hesitant to make a move. The wolf stood tall and proud, its muscular body radiating such raw power.

You held your breath, your heart beating like a drum. 

The wolf maintains its unwavering gaze and gradually approaches you, inching closer until it comes to a halt. Its tail sways back and forth with a sense of hesitation.

You retained its look; the wolf was so gorgeous, and its eyes captivated you, that you raised your hand. 

Although your father had cautioned you about dangerous creatures, nothing was wild about this male wolf; his whole manner was rather calm, and he came to your hand while you held the lamb tightly.

The wolf gently rubs its head against your palm and shuts its eyes, prompting you to set the lamb down. With your other hand, you caress the wolf's velvety fur on its back. 

You released a long exhale, observing the wolf as it turned its gaze toward the forest and proceeded to move toward the thick vegetation. 

He calls out again, dropping the glass. "(Y/N)!" 

You trailed behind, lifting your skirts and then pursuing the wolf.

It moved like a blur until he came to a halt and sat by an ancient log, on which you sat with your head tilted. "Good boy..." You whisper to the wolf.

The creature rests its paws on your thighs and he is enjoying the pets until he looks up, afraid and you let out a cry as the wolf scrapes its sharp claws against your inner right leg.

Beside your brother, Gallagher loomed large, his imposing figure casting a long shadow where you sat with the wolf. 

In his hand, he held a shotgun, its barrel gleaming ominously in the fading light. The sheriff's badge pinned to Gallagher's vest shone brightly, its metallic glint forcing you to squint.

“N-no..no Gallagher don’t shoot!” You screamed in despair, rising from the log and hurried towards Gallagher, attempting to guide his aim towards a tree, yet you were unable to due to his sheer strength.

The wolf tries to escape but it’s too late. 

The pasture and forest fell silent as Gallagher's shotgun unleashed its dreaded sound, causing you to come to a halt.

Your nasty cut began to bleed and so did the wolf. 

The wolf, its eyes that blazed with a feral intensity now faded. Blood trickled down its snout, a scarlet trail marking its path and staining the ground beneath as you walked toward it.

You now faced the lifeless body with a tear falling and it trailed down your cheek.

You are still under the watchful gaze of its crimson eye even in death. The vivid blood emanating from it resembled Luka so much that it took your breath away, causing you to stumble backward and faint.

-

The wolf possesses dominance and is fearless in demonstrating such of that. It’s not afraid to assert its dominance, and its presence alone can send shivers down the spines of its prey and enemies.

Boothill exhales a puff of smoke from his cigarette, his hand casually resting in his back pocket as he gazes into the distance of the town.

While assisting Arlan in acquiring supplies in the town, you were pleasantly surprised by the kindness of the locals, which brought you joy.

As passing by, you take a peek at a dress in the window of an elegant boutique. Its dark green color was pretty and held black lace that adorned the chest, it cascaded down the front, framing a plunging neckline that hinted at a tantalizing glimpse of skin.

“That would look very pretty on ya.” Boothill's words caught your attention, making you lift your head and give him a sweet smile.

“You’re jus’ saying that to be nice..” You rolled your eyes.

“I mean it.” Boothill extinguishes the cigarette by pressing it against the sole of his worn boot.

Upon entering the store, your attention was fixed on the dress until the store owner removed it from the window display, causing you to raise your eyebrows in surprise.

Boothill purchases both the dress and a large poncho with a hood. Perfect for concealing oneself better.

“Oh Boo, you didn’t have to do that…” You let out a gasp, bringing both hands up to cover your mouth as the cyborg emerges from the store, holding the dress up for you to take.

The mere mention of the nickname caused him to feel bashful, averting his gaze from you while a rosy blush adorned his cheeks. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He looks to you now, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “It’s for savin’ mah butt when I was shot.” 

As you continued to stare, a nervous flush crept across his face, painting it a delicate shade of crimson. His normally composed demeanor crumbled, replaced by a flustered unease that he couldn't shake. “Oh fudge, stop lookin’ at me like that doll,” Boothill murmured and it made you break out in a giggle. 

“Huh? Makin’ ya nervous?” In response, you moved in closer to him, took a strand of his hair, and gave it a gentle rub between your fingers. 

It had a strong sulfurous odor and felt incredibly soft. 

“Nervous? Nah, Boothill never gets nervous.” He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. 

Arlan has Liberty close to him as he observes the two of you and scratches at his head.

Getting an apple from one of the bags, he sliced an apple into thin, even slices and shared it with his mare while munching on some. 

Arlan noticed something peculiar as he observed you playing with Boothill's hair, causing him to narrow his eyes at the two of you.

Were you both flirting?

Arlan has seen couples do that regularly, the hair touching and kissing. 

He considers it for a moment before brushing it off. Perhaps you were attempting to entice him to return to Gallagher?

After Arlan walks away, you grasp Boothill's hand and lead him into a different shop brimming with candies and pastries.

The scent of caramel and cinnamon wafted out, a comforting aroma to you and you look up at Boothill. You hope sugar and the joy of a treat might bring a flicker of happiness back to Boothill as he seemed still under the weather.

"Ever had somethin' with custard?" You question him, taking whatever piece of coins you had in your back pocket to pay off for the delicious dessert and you opened it to reveal the creamy filling inside.

Boothill's lips perked up in a smirk. 

He lets out a hum and says, "I sure can fill ya up with custard...."

After taking a bite of the pastry, you swiftly delivered a smack across Boothill's head, causing his hat to nearly tumble to the ground. "Son of a gun! S-stop..stop doin' that!" He cries, cradling the back of his head and he is going to say something else but you shove the dessert into his mouth.

Boothill froze, his eyes expanding with surprise as he savored the flavor and gradually chewed it.

"How is it?" 

You emitted a cry as he snatched it from your hand and proceeded to consume it like a ravaged animal, devouring it as if there were no tomorrow.

Even the baker was looking at you both perplexed....

"Four more please!" Boothill's eyes gleamed as he dropped coins onto the counter. The baker chuckled as he packed the pastries into a bag for Boothill to take with him.

Boothill does so and he walks out the door with a prep to his step. Arlan appeared right beside Boothill, causing him to abruptly halt his small dance, while you followed closely behind, laughing. "Can we please jus' go? It's gon' be dark soon." He groans.

You nodded, a warmth spreading through you as you wrapped an arm around Arlan’s, your fingers tangling with his. Boothill's arm settled around your waist, offering unspoken comfort, and you leaned your head against his shoulder, a sigh escaping your lips.

As Arlan's eyes shifted downwards, you immediately became alert, obstructing the view of Boothill's actions and pulling them towards the horses peacefully grazing in the distance.

"Let's go boys!" You then wait. “And this time I'm guidin' Blackjack. Got me?" You mounted the black stallion with a wink to Boothill, while the cyborg eagerly anticipated the ride ahead.

"Alright alright, ya get the reins this time but I know the directions here sweetheart!" You threw the dress at him, causing it to obstruct his view, and you burst into laughter once more. "Okey dokey partner~"

With that said, Boothill's eyes widened. Did you call him partner? Oh, that made him so charmed with you, a feeling that bloomed in his chest like a wildflower and he bit his lip. He wanted to say something of an adoring comment but he took his hand as you presented it to him.

Blackjack snorts impatiently and Liberty, her mane flowing wildly in the wind, gallops with Arlan. Boothill wraps an arm securely around your petite waist, his other hand gripping his hat tightly to prevent it from being swept away by the relentless gusts.

"Yeehaw!" Boothill exclaimed with a grin, his voice echoing through the vast expanse of the Old West and Arlan chuckled at that.

As the trio left the bustling town, what was left was now replaced by a sense of hope and the bond between the three of you is becoming stronger with each passing moment.