star gazing is one thing you didn't realize you were missing out on. out here, there's less light pollution. less musk from the town— the stars are so vibrant with life and stories. it amazes you every time.
warnings; oooeeeyyyy gooooeeey fluff. normal au. farm life, domesticity, so terribly selfship coded i'll throw up. new parents fluff <3
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the air is somewhat chilly by the time you've got the swaddle wrap properly fixed over your chest. aruela is fast asleep— has been, for the past hour you've spent getting the fabric tied correctly around your waist so that it holds properly.
at one point, boothill had asked if you wanted help. and as sweet as he is— as helpful as he's been— you wanted to prove to yourself that you could do something on your own. it's not that he was smothering you, far from it actually. it was more of mental obstacle, one you've had since you've become more mobile after having your daughter five months ago.
boothill and the rest of the farm hands are out by the fire pit— talking in comfortable, low tones as they pass around tobacco and bottles of whatever was bought hours earlier at the general store. the fire doesn't burn that bright, but it's warm and cozy enough to sit and relax next to.
even though you don't make any noise when you finally trudge outside, boothill's eyes immediately find your form in the dim light. he looks tan by the firelight, butterscotch flushed with orange and red. his eyes are soft when they meet yours. he hardly fights that easy, knee-buckling smile that tugs along his lips.
"finally made it out here, huh?" his tone is teasing as he tugs out a lounge chair beside him. there's already a blanket draped over the back of it, a cushion nestled in the seat. like he had it prepped regardless if you made it outside or not. "harris got marshmallows earlier. want me t'roast you one?"
aruela stirs slightly against your chest as you bend slightly to settle into your chair. your hand is gentle as it smooths along her back as boothill wraps the blanket around you two, careful to keep her face exposed for oxygen. he moves the fabric of the swaddle briefly to take a peek, thumb brushing along her cheek— lingering enough that she stirs again.
you shake your head once he's helped you settle. your lips tug upwards as they brush along aruela's forehead in attempt to soothe her back to sleep. boothill's hand finds your cheek once she's drifted off again, lifting your chin so your eyes meet his.
the rest of the farm hands are tipsy— laughter melting easily into the quiet of the night. in the distance, you can hear the horses in the barn settling in for the night, some of the cows still lazily trudging through the fields in search for the last few bits of food they could find.
when you really think about it, you did not want farm life. there's that little itch in the back of your brain when you're on a piece of land that stretches for miles before you're seeing another sign of life— you've never liked that. you've never liked how eerily quiet an acre could get in the middle of the night. how brutal wildlife could get sometimes.
but boothill took it easy with you. showed you his way of life in little handfuls throughout the period of time he was courting you— to dating you, and then sealing the deal with a ring. he taught you to shoot a double barrel on your fifth date, took you out on the horse by the seventh.
even went as far as to get you a guard dog so devoted, it was the most well behaved animal on the farm.
and he knows that fear hasn't disappeared. in fact, he's proud of you for venturing outside even now. the heart and star sparkles in his eyes say it all— he's smitten. has been, if he's honest. since the day he caught sight of you at the town saloon where you were downing pints faster than the local drunkard.
his fingers intertwine with yours, squeezing your palm against his. black tipped strands stick to his forehead with sweat, stubbornly staying even when he drags his freehand through his hair. he lounges back into his chair, but his hand is steady in the contact it holds with yours. his boots, caked with mud; prop up onto the fire pit, but even as the flames threaten to lick at the soles, he doesn't move them.
"we should head out to that flea market this weekend," he muses as his head tips backward. he's staring at the stars, but you're looking at his profile. you hum in agreement, tilting your own head backwards to gaze up at the constellations on display tonight.
star gazing is one thing you didn't realize you were missing out on. out here, there's less light pollution. less musk from the town— the stars are so vibrant with life and stories. it amazes you every time, really.
when boothill turns his head to ask you another question, your eyes are still trained on the sky above you. the softness of your jaw illuminated by the firelight, the curve of your cheeks— everything about you looks ethereal to him. he doesn't remember what he was going to ask you.
so he shuts up and lets you soak the beauty of the night in moderate silence. not that you needed to soak up any more of it— he already thought you were the most divine thing he ever had the pleasure of being in the presence of.
funniest bit in deehill land is whenever i overhear/am getting updated on things by someone else and hear the bullshit he’s been doing, i like to pull the “you did/said WHAT”
jalapeño + carrots for a selfship of your choice 💝 please and thank you!
hi hi roma thank you for asking <3
jalapeño ✦ what is your spice tolerance? what is theirs?
i'd say my spice tolerance is significantly better! boothill is the type to egg me on and try even spicier stuff because he thinks i'll just complain about it the whole time ( i DO, but i still eat the dish!!)
carrots ✦ what is your ideal romantic getaway?
somewhere warm and somewhere quiet. even though the two of us are particularly rowdy and need the thrill of chaos and adrenaline to keep going, sometimes it's just nice to have those moments. where we can wake up on our own in the morning and not to an alarm, snuggled up with the blankets half off the bed and the sun peeking through the curtains. a place where we can share a cup of coffee on the balcony while just listening to the sounds of nature around us and make plans to do absolutely nothing all day
