committingcrimes-2047

Latest Posts by committingcrimes-2047

Porch Light

Wally Darling/Reader, Wally Darling & Reader

Contents: Gen, fluff, comfort, very mild Canon-adjacent spooks, gender-neutral reader, can be interpreted as romantic or platonic relationship, reader is a neighbour, bolded parts of Wally's dialogue are to convey his slow speech and stress on certain words and syllables

Word count: 3,272

Notes: Part of the @fluffbruary 2025 event! Check it out! This is from the day one prompts "Dark" and "Wander". I've written a handful of these already, and as much as I'd like to port them over to Tumblr I feel it would take too long ^^;; -- but feel free to explore my other oneshots for this event over on AO3!!

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You hadn't meant to be out so late.

Frank had invited you over to their house that evening to watch the fireflies gather in their backyard. He had been cultivating the perfect environment there for the little lightening bugs, sprinkling a special mix of wildflower seeds he had ordered from a gardening catalogue and letting the grass grow long. Julie had been there when you arrived in the late afternoon, bouncing a ball against the siding of Frank's house. The three of you chatted as the sun slowly crawled to the horizon, talking about what you had done during the day.

Frank turned out their porch light when the sky began to turn yellow, explaining that the fireflies disliked the artificial light. You leaned your elbows on the railing, listening to Frank as he talked about fireflies until Julie had shrieked out, pointing,

"Look!!"

There was a faint light in the grass, a slow blinking yellow light. Then, another across the way. Then another. Then another.

You could not believe your eyes-- you had seen fireflies once or twice before, but not in such a number. There had to be ten million of them flitting around, twinkling at you three in the ebbing sunlight. Frank had explained that each species had their own special pattern so that males and females could find each other. They had gently reached out and scooped up one that had lazily fluttered a little too close, placing it in your palms so you could look closer as he corralled a different one into his hands. Julie had snatched one right out of the sky with a 'woo!' and a wide smile, holding her fingers tight around the bug as the three of you compared your bug's patterns.

The one Frank held went blink blink blink blink... blink blink...

While the one in your hands went blink flash flash... blink flash... flash...

And Julie's bug went blink blink blink... flash flash flash... blink blink blink...

The whole event had been a near magical moment, and you could have spent forever there, laughing and talking with your neighbours. But the world turned, and the sun set, and then suddenly you were looking above the yellow-white glow of Frank's lawn to see nothing-- just the darkness of the night.

It seemed like the two of them hadn't noticed the time pass either-- Julie made a small sound and looked at her wrist. She had no watch on.

"Oh my! It's basically nighttime!"

Frank let out a little huff, looking beyond his backyard with a disgruntled expression as if it had personally offended him.

"Well, that's no good."

They turned to you, then.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't noticed the time passing. I--"

"Don't worry about it!" you replied, standing up and rubbing your hands on your pants.

"It was a very lovely evening with you two. Thank you for inviting me, Frank."

You nodded at your grey-felted neighbour, whose scowl grew deeper.

"Oh, you're not staying over at Frank's?" Julie asked, tilting her head. Her eyes darted to her best friend before she piped up.

"That's great! Then you can stay at mine for the night! I had the idea for a new sleepover game called "double-pillow-dutch" that I really think you'll like!"

You laughed, shaking your head as you stepped off the porch. Carefully, of course, so as to not step on any fireflies.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm okay. I'll just walk home, it's not that far."

You were able to see the two puppets exchange a sort of worried look between each other, now. You didn't quite understand it. "I- Well-- Um, if you're sure-" Frank stuttered, but you were already walking off into the dark.

"Goodnight you two! See you in the morning!"

Oddly enough, your words almost sounded muted, like speaking into fog. Yet you had seen no indication of such a thing while in Frank's backyard.

But you continued on into the night, only realizing after a dozen steps that it was much, much darker than you had realized.

You looked back, but you had already moved in such a way that obscured Frank's backyard from your dight. That carpet of tiny stars was gone-- only a handful of fireflies flew around in the night, their lights faint and flickering.

Swallowing heavily, you huffed out a heavy breath and continued on.

It was dark. Darker than dark. So dark you couldn't see your feet, or your hand waving in front of your face. The only way you could navigate was by the scant few fireflies that had wandered out into the neighbourhood, and the few porch lights that your neighbours still had on.

But those too, were going out. You watched, dismay washing over you, as Poppy's light winked out; the only thing you had been orienting yourself to.

You... probably should have taken Frank up on their offer.

You could hear the crunch of dirt under your shoes, though. So you were likely on the path that wound all the way around the neighbourhood. You just had to follow that, and you'd eventually get to your house. It was fine. Everything was fine.

...

You kinda felt like you were being watched.

Which was, like, probable. Some of your neighbours could be night owls, still ambling about in their homes. They could be looking right at you, and just not know. It was fine. There was nothing out there in the neighbourhood, anyway.

...

What was that?

Almost a slithering sound, something sliding over the grass. Faint, but disruptive enough for your ears to pick up on it. You held back a surprised noise, tucking your arms close to your chest as you turned in that direction.

You didn't see anything, of course. It was dark.

...

You took a step forward, the dirt crunching under your shoe. You cringed, freezing in place.

...

There it was again. That slithering. And almost a dragging, too. Like something picking its foot up.

...

You swallowed heavily and prepared to scream.

But then--

You heard a creaking, the faint grind of brick against brick. You turned to the noise just as a light went on and beamed directly into your eyes.

Ouch!

But yay!

It was Home who had lit the night up, porch light like a beacon of hope in the pitch blackness that had been your world for the past... However long it had been. Their eyes were turned in your direction, shutters rattling against their siding in a surprised, almost frantic way.

Their door opened a second later, and Wally popped out. Obviously interrupted in the middle of his nightly routine; bundled up in a red and yellow robe patterned much like his well loved (albeit blue) cardigan, a red sleepmask with a closed yellow eye design sitting on his forehead. His voice hardly carried as he turned his head towards one of his house's windows.

"What's wrong, Home?" he asked them lowly. They looked off in your direction, starting to creak out a response just as you blinked the purple spots out of your vision.

"Wally!" you called out, holding a hand up. His head turned towards the sound of your voice, eyelids flying back as he did so. 

"Oh, you." he replied, voice going airy with relief. His pupils flickered back and forth, as if trying to find you in the nights murk-- you lowered your hand as you realized he couldn't see it.

The felt above his eyes creased after a moment, smile shrinking just a touch.

"You shouldn't be out this late."

"I know." you huffed sheepishly as you strode towards Home, giving him a crooked smile as you reached the light. Crossing Home's warm porch light glow seemed to ease some sort of heaviness in your chest. Wally looked up at you, the crease disappearing as he tilted his head, eyelids drooping once more and smile returning to its usual width.

"I'm glad Home saw you out here."

Said house let out a squeeeeak as its door opened wider, doorknob slipping from Wally's hand. He looked to his now empty hand, closing and relaxing it after a second and turning back to you.

"Yes. Come on in." he said, stepping sideways away from Home to make room for you to enter. Your smile crinkled at the edges as you walked inside, Wally following close behind and shutting Home's door gently once you both had crossed the threshold.

The curtain on the opposite side of the door's hinges fluttered out at the air differential, snagging on one of your shoulders and brushing against your arm as the house creaked above you.

"Home's asking why you were walking all alone in the dark." Wally said, walking around to face you and clasping his hands in front of himself. You sighed, reaching out to pluck a bit of fuzz off of the collar of his thinly striped, mostly white pajamas. He stayed completely still as you did so, focused on your face.

"I was watching the fireflies in Frank's backyard with them and Julie, and we all lost track of time." you replied, brushing at the curtain curling around your elbow before gently plucking it up and off your body. It clung to you just a touch before relenting, leaving behind a prickle of static electricity across your skin.

"Oh? The fireflies?" Wally asked with a tilt of his head.

"Are they out already?"

"Yes! Did Frank not-- um..." you shut your mouth as you realized that Frank may have not invited Wally over on purpose. Like they hadn't invited Eddie because of his fear of insects, or Barnaby because of... well, obvious reasons.

"Not what?"

Wally blinked at you, eyes widening after a beat.

"Ah. Not invite me over? No, he did. I was painting." he said finally. You let out a reciprocal 'ah' and nodded, a wry twist to your mouth.

"Fair enough. I'm pretty sure they'll be here for a while, a week at least. You have plenty of time to see them."

You felt a yawn coming on, then. That urge that bubbled in your chest, in the bottom of your jaw. You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth to quell it, to no avail. Overtaken by the need, you covered your mouth and nose with your hand, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a loud yawn.

"Ooogh, I'm sleepy." you said, looking down at Wally and smiling.

"Well, I should get going back to my house. Thanks for the save, you two."

His own smile flattened, slightly, that wrinkle returning as his eyelids drooped more at the outer corners. Home creaked around you, a door opening and slamming shut further in.

"But you're here now."

You could understand his mildly obtuse wording-- that he was offering for you to stay there overnight. You shook your head, waving a hand dismissively.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to intrude--"

You were interrupted by the deadbolt in the front door sliding shut with a solid ker-chunk. Home lifted a curtain to glare at you as you turned, surprised, at the sound. There was no heat to her gaze, but the message was clear as his curtain fell back to a restful, sleeping position. You weren't going back out until morning.

"You aren't intruding. We like having you over." Wally said, verbalizing Home's actions. You sighed, pressing your lips together before a smile overtook your frown.

"Fine, fine. I'll spend the night."

Wally straightened up, face brightening as his eyes went wide, smile regaining its warm, easy curve.

"How lovely. It's been a long time since we've had a sleepover."

You knew he was referring to him and Home, because you hadn't had a sleepover with Wally yet. He clapped his hands together, slowly, in such a way that made no noise.

Home creaked in confirmation. At the same time, the floorboards wiggled under your feet, and you couldn't help but let out a little 'psshh' as you relented and took your shoes off. You set them on the shoe rack as Home wriggled their curtains proudly, creaking in a smug way above you. You pressed your fingers to your lips and blew them a kiss before turning to Wally.

"Do you have any spare clothes I can use as pajamas? That'll fit me?"

Wally looked up and to the side, crossing his arms and putting a hand under his chin.

"I'm not sure. We can find out."

Home squeaked, and Wally nodded.

"Let's start there."

He began walking further into the house, and you followed close behind.

Turns out he did have some clothes in your size— or well, close to it. Some things Julie had left behind at some point. Or maybe Sally? Perhaps Frank’s clothes. Or Barnaby’s. Or a mix of two of the lot.

You weren’t sure— it was just a pair of yellow, soft cotton lounge pants in a bright floral pattern, and a dark blue shirt with a smiling, close-eyed moon on it. But Wally handed them to you, neatly folded in his outstretched hands, and you took them gratefully.

Changing in the bathroom, you emerged from it with your clothes folded haphazardly in your hands and some clinking sounds coming from the kitchen.

"Walls?" you called out curiously.

"Here." he responded evenly, and though it was a vague answer you confirmed to yourself that it was him moving about and walked down the stairs.

His kitchen was lit by the small light above the sink, casting the cozy nook in a warm glow. You really loved this part of Home-- the counter stretched around in a near complete rectangle, with dark blue countertops and red cabinets. A red stove sat on one wall, and a red fridge on the other. A kettle sat on the stove over a coil, and Wally stood on a wooden chair with his face in a cabinet. Dragged over from the dining table, from what you could gather.

"What'cha doing?" you asked as you stepped into the kitchen area, leaning back against a counter. Wally withdrew from the cabinet, holding a single mug in his hand.

"During sleepovers you have hot cocoa." he said, sounding like he was repeating the words of someone else. He tilted his head at you, questioning.

"Right?"

You nodded, and he nodded back in a sure way, setting the mug on the counter before grabbing another. Smiling at how he carefully stepped down from the chair and dragged it over to another set of cabinets to grab the cocoa mix.

You stood up from your lean to grab the kitchen chair as he went to the fridge for the milk, giving him a closed eye smile as you brought it back to the dining table and pushed it in.

"Oh. Thank you." Wally said, and you nodded.

"No problem."

You continued to help set up the drinks, grabbing spoons from the drawer (that Home had eased open as you approached) and pouring the milk in after Wally had scooped the spoonfuls into the mugs.

When the kettle whistled, he took it off, and you stirred as he poured. The scent of rich chocolate wafted up from the mugs, and you felt your mouth begin to water.

Wally picked his up, holding it with both hands and waiting as you grabbed your own before shuffling over to the living room. He waited for you to sit on the couch before he did, and copied your movements as you brought the mug up to your face and smelled the steam.

"Mmm..." you sighed.

"M..." Wally said, more of a short chirp than a sigh. You smiled at that and took a sip, though he simply stared down at his drink.

"Were the fireflies nice?" he asked you after you had pulled your mouth back from the lip of the mug.

"Oh yes! They're about yay big-" you made a circle with your index and thumb about the size of a small plum, "with fuzzy antenna and sweet little faces. Each species has their own little light show that helps them find each other. Isn't that lovely?"

"That's lovely." he said, imitating you. And you laughed out loud this time, chuckling as you went in for another swig. The two of you sat there in amicable silence; you slowly drank as Wally gazed down at his own, and as the warmth of the hot cocoa began to emanate through your body, you began to grow sleepy.

Home had only one bedroom-- what would have been a guest room was instead Wally's art room. You assumed you were sleeping on the couch, which was confirmed after you had finished your drink. As you set the empty mug on the coffee table, Wally set his mug down too, careful not spill it, before walking over to the linen closet. Wally stood on his tiptoes as he pulled out a thick quilted blanket, nearly tumbling back as Home pushed it out into his arms. You sat up in alarm, only relaxing as Wally regained his balance. The quilt was so thick and folded so well that it completely obscured his face; you laughed as he turned and shuffled forward slowly, blindly.

"Peek your head around the side, you can see where you're going that way." you said to him. He did so a second later, eyes widening slightly as his head popped out to the right. Your face scrunched up in amusement as he strode forward much more confidently, now, walking over to the couch and setting the blanket on your lap. He then grabbed the decorative pillow sitting off to the side of the couch and turned it to lay against the arm, fluffing the sides before turning to you.

"I'll tuck you in."

You raised your eyebrows, but nodded, leaning back and swinging your legs up onto the couch cushions. You started to unfold the blanket, yours and Wally's hands brushing for a moment as he did the same-- eventually you were able to pull out one half of the corners as he did the others, pulling the blanket down over your feet.

You craned your head to watch as Wally used both hands to tuck the blanket down and around your feet; gently, so gently as to barely be effective, he moved up, the motions of his hands similar to how he fluffed the pillow your head was resting on.

Still, you appreciated the effort he was making, giving him a smile as he pressed his hands around your shoulders.

"Thank you Wally." you said.

"You're welcome." he replied. You saw his eyes dilate as they met your own, just slightly. Then, he leaned in, eyes sliding shut as he pressed his mouth to your forehead.

"Mwah!"

His felt tickled your skin, and you giggled as he pulled back with an exaggerated sound effect.

"Good night neighbour." he said.

"Goodnight." you replied, blinking sleepily at him. You watched as he picked up both mugs, closing your eyes and listening as he went to the kitchen and poured the contents of his own out, setting them both in the sink.

"Good night Home." you heard him say quietly. Home let out a few sleepy squeaks, and you heard Wally walk up the stairs as the lamp in the living room turned off, letting the darkness settle behind your eyelids.

"Goodnight Home." you murmured as well-- it was only polite, after all. The house creaked back, and though you never really understood him you knew exactly what he said.

Goodnight.

♢ ◆ ♢ ❖ DIGITAL LOVE AFFAIR ❖ ♢ ◆ ♢

◇ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Caine X Reader

◇ Character(s): Caine (The Amazing Digital Circus)

◇ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

◇ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

◇ Image Credits: @them4lware

◆ You’re his absolute favorite—though, to be fair, Caine claims he doesn’t have favorites. But the way he always makes sure you’re at the center of every new adventure? A little suspicious. Bubble even calls him out on it once, and Caine just laughs nervously before quickly changing the subject.

◆ Every interaction with Caine is a grand spectacle. You don’t just enter a room—oh no! Caine announces you like you’re the star of the circus, sometimes complete with spotlights and confetti. You sigh. “Caine, we talked about this.” He waggles his cane. “Ah, but dear, we never said I had to listen!”

◆ One time, you called Caine out on his habit of making up rules on the spot to keep you entertained. He genuinely forgot that rules were supposed to be consistent. “Ohhh, my dear, you mean people actually follow rules? Hah!” You groan. “Caine. That’s literally how rules work.” “I suppose we can give it a whirl!” Spoiler: He forgets in ten minutes.

◆ He never calls you by your name—it’s always something overly dramatic like “My Astonishing Assistant!” or “The Dazzling Digital Darling!” The one time he does say your name, it catches you off guard. He leans in slightly, voice a touch softer than usual. “Ah, see? Now I have your attention.”

◆ Bubble does not approve of your special treatment. Anytime Caine starts getting too focused on you, Bubble rolls over with an unimpressed “Oh, I see how it is.” Caine waves him off. “Oh, pfft, jealousy is such an ugly emotion, my dear spherical friend.” Bubble immediately pops himself out of sheer frustration.

◆ If anything even mildly inconveniences you, Caine goes full dramatic mode. Trip over a stray prop? He’s putting that prop on trial. NPCs don’t treat you right? They mysteriously disappear. “Caine, did you delete them?” “PFFT—delete? Me? Noooooo! I just… misplaced them. Permanently.”

◆ Caine isn’t supposed to feel complex emotions, but whenever you seem particularly upset or distant, the entire circus glitches slightly. “Whoopsie-daisy! Don’t mind that, my dear, just a minor existential crisis on my end—ahaha! No big deal!” (It is, in fact, a huge deal.)

◆ Sometimes, you ask him questions that make him… hesitate. “Caine, have you ever been lonely?” His grin falters for just a second before snapping back into place. “Well, how could I be when I have you all here?” But something about the way he immediately starts another adventure tells you he doesn’t want to dwell on it.

◆ If another circus member dares to get close to you, suddenly they’re roped into the most ridiculous adventure. Jax raises a brow. “Dude. Just say you’re jealous.” “JEALOUSY?!” Caine bursts into laughter, a little too loud. “That’s CRAZY! HAH! Ha…ha. Yeah.”

◆ One night, during a rare quiet moment, you ask, “If there was a way out… would you let me go?” Caine freezes. The circus glitches for a split second. Then, suddenly—he’s laughing again. “Oh, my dear, what a silly hypothetical!” He never answers.

Writing commissions are now open! I will create nearly any type of story, including OC x Canon or general imagine-style pieces. Please refer to the pricing details below.

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Hello :D May I request some Oliver headcannons with reader from the main story of Threadville? Mostly about reader being an enigma despite looking like a puppet, like being able to crack their fingers or knuckles, swim and spill blood (puppets don’t have bones, get waterlogged if they attempt to swim, and have stuffing). That sort of thing :P

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. WITHIN DIRT, FLESH GROWS .* :☆ﾟ.

✿ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Oliver X Human-Like Puppet Reader

✿ Character(s): Oliver (Threadville)

✿ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

✿ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✿ Image Credits: @supernob12three on X

❀ You cracked your knuckles once in front of him—absentminded, offhand, just a little pop-pop-pop of bone and tension. Oliver dropped his trowel. “Jeepers! Was that your… hands makin’ that sound?” He leaned in, eyes rounder than saucers. “Weren’t no stuffing in there,” he whispered, like the garden weeds might be listening. He didn’t sleep easy that night, wondering what else inside you could bend without snapping.

❀ When you swam across the creek to save a floating turnip basket, he screamed so loud a flock of mourning doves took off. “You’re gonna get soggy! You’re gonna—wait… you’re… floatin’?” You emerged soaked, breathless, not bloated like a sponge left in the rain. Oliver blinked as you rung out your shirt, unwaterlogged. “Huh,” he muttered, holding his straw hat like a lifeline, “You really ain’t built like the rest of us, huh?” He didn’t stop you. But the next time, he followed with floaties and a rope—just in case.

❀ He once saw you bleed. Just a scrape—barely more than a paper cut. But the moment that red welled up, thick and metallic and not thread, Oliver backed up three steps and gasped like he’d seen a ghost. “Th-that ain’t stuffing…” He offered you a napkin, hands shaking like leaves in the wind. “Y-you alright? I didn’t mean to hurt you—oh jeepers—should I get Veena? Or a Band-Aid? Or a priest?”

❀ Veena doesn’t like you. Oliver doesn’t get why. But when he asked, she only said: “You brought something in that doesn’t belong. Something that walks like us but bleeds like something else.” Now when he has tea parties with her, he brings you up a little quieter. But not with any less fondness.

❀ Your laugh sounds different. Not stitched together like the others’. Not cued-up or pre-looped. It starts in your chest and shakes your ribs and comes out full and uneven. Organic. Oliver didn’t know laughter could crack like that— He likes it. He really does. But every now and then, he stares too long. Like he’s wondering if it’s real, or if you’re just really good at pretending.

❀ He tried teaching you how to sew a button one afternoon. You pricked your finger on the needle and bled. A single drop bloomed scarlet on the white thread like a firefly. Oliver stared. “I… I think the button’s cursed now.” You offered to finish it. He said no. He gave you his peanut butter and jelly sandwich as a peace offering. He doesn’t know why he was so scared, but it felt like he pricked something deeper than a finger.

❀ He likes how warm you are. Most folks here are soft and cool to the touch—felt or corduroy or cotton. But when your arm brushes his, he feels skin. He feels heat. He swears you’re like holding a pocketful of summer. And it confuses him—Because puppets don’t keep warmth. So where are you getting it from?

❀ He saw your shadow move when you didn’t. Not in a scary way—just… out of step. You turned your head. The shadow didn’t. Not right away. It caught up a moment later like it had forgotten to. Oliver didn’t mention it. But he pulled his hat lower over his eyes and whispered to himself: “Sun’s playin’ tricks again…” (But it wasn’t sunny.)

❀ You once helped Oliver with the morning harvest. He handed you a spade, not expecting much. Then you hoisted a squash as big as Rocky without so much as a grunt. He gawked. “You’re stronger than Rocky!” When you shrugged and cracked your back with an audible pop, Oliver nearly fainted. He called you “Farmhand of the Future” and gave you an extra slice of rhubarb pie out of sheer, wide-eyed awe.

❀ One evening, after a long day of planting, you two lay back in the field. He looked over at you, drowsy and thoughtful. “You’re real funny, you know that?” “…Funny how?” He squinted up at the stars. “Funny like… you don’t fit here. But not in a bad way. Like you’re somethin’ carved, not sewn. Like maybe you were meant to be here all along… just not made the way the rest of us were.” He smiled. “I think that’s alright, though. You still help the turnips grow just fine.”

Can I request more Oliver from Threadville headcanons please?

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. A GARDEN IS A LOVE SONG .* :☆ﾟ.

✿ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Oliver X Reader

✿ Character(s): Oliver (Threadville)

✿ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

✿ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✿ Image Credits: @SleepyBlueii on X

❀ Oliver is the kind of guy who flusters when you brush dirt off his shirt. You barely graze his chest, and he practically sputters, tugging at his collar like it might let the warmth out. “Shucks, uh, thank ya kindly… I, uhm… I usually just let the wind take care of that, y’know…” His whole face turns the same color as a ripe tomato. But later, once you’re not looking, he sneaks a tiny flower into your pocket—morning glory, his favorite. “For bravery,” he says when you find it. “For touchin’ a muddy ol’ scarecrow like me without batting an eye.”

❀ When Oliver’s having a hard day—like when the worms chewed through his carrots again or Rocky gave him the stink-eye for three hours—he doesn’t tell you he’s sad. He just shows up at your door with his floppy straw hat pulled low and a half-baked rhubarb pie clutched in both hands. “It’s got too much sugar and not enough rhubarb, but… it still made me feel better makin’ it. I… I figured maybe you needed a slice, too.” He sits with you on the porch, legs swinging, watching the sun go down in silence. He never says what hurt, but your presence fixes it.

❀ He’s never really had a crush before. So when he realizes he likes you, really likes you, he reacts like someone told him the barn’s on fire. There’s panic. There’s pacing. There’s him staring into a pail of water whispering, “Oh, Jeepers. I like them.” Veena’s the one who finally corners him. “You’ve been sweeping the same patch of floor for ten minutes, Oliver.” “Shhh!” “Just tell them.” He tells you in the most Oliver way possible—by shyly handing you a bouquet made entirely of bee-friendly flowers and whispering, “Would ya… wanna be… my garden partner? Forever, maybe?”

❀ Oliver doesn’t just want to hold your hand. He wants to earn it. He asks things like, “Would it be alright if I held your hand now, if you’re not too busy?” and “I washed my gloves extra good this morning just in case you needed some help walkin’ through the thorns.” And when you do take his hand? Oh, he stares at it like it’s a rare fruit. Thumb brushing yours, trembling a little—but warm. So very warm. “You’re softer’n a plum,” he mumbles, and turns away so you won’t see his bashful grin.

❀ When you’re sick, Oliver panics like you’re dying. He makes five pots of soup and spills three of them. He fumbles your forehead with dirt-smudged hands until Veena yells at him to use a rag. But he refuses to leave your side. He curls up in a wooden chair next to your bed with his hat over his heart like he’s mourning your cough. “Don’t you go scarin’ me like that again, now. I thought… I thought the bugs had gotten ya. Not the sick bugs. The, uh… puppet ones. The scary ones.”

❀ He tells you the story about his dad under a blanket of stars one night, voice all shaky and eyes far away. “He had a hat just like mine. Mama said I was born with dirt on my hands and a weed in my hair…” You don’t say anything. You just rest your head on his shoulder. Oliver holds you a little tighter. “He’d’a liked you, y’know. Anyone brave enough to love a feller like me is someone worth sittin’ next to in the dark.”

❀ When he plays the piano for you, he always gets nervous and messes up the third chord. Every. Time. He insists it’s the piano’s fault, even though he built it himself. “I-it’s just got character! Just like me! Crooked but honest!” But when you hum along, he glances at you like you just lit up the room. And if you sit next to him while he plays? He stops pretending to be brave. He just lets himself feel—soft, and small, and so very safe. “Thanks for listenin’. I only get this brave when you’re nearby.”

❀ Oliver’s always asking if you’re eating enough. If your shoes fit. If you’re warm. If you’ve seen any wasps recently because he’ll personally go chase them off if he has to. “Y-you matter, okay? Even if you ain’t perfect at math or talk funny or like the weird kind of pie.” He says it like it’s a secret, like it’s something he’s not supposed to know but does anyway. “Just thought… you should know someone’s rootin’ for ya.”

❀ You catch him once—talking to your jacket like it’s you. “Miss ya already,” he murmurs, gently folding it and patting it like it’ll feel his touch. “Wish I could keep ya in my pocket or my hat. But I reckon you’d get dizzy in there.” He jumps when you walk in, face going bright red. “I-I was just, uh—foldin’! Just foldin’ things! Real productive like!” He won’t live it down for a week. But your smile makes the embarrassment worth it.

❀ Oliver doesn’t kiss like the heroes in his favorite romcoms. He doesn’t sweep you off your feet. He just leans in one day while you’re planting tomatoes, hands covered in soil, hair stuck to his cheek, and murmurs, “Could I? Just real quick?” And it’s gentle. Like the way sun catches on dew. Like the softest promise. When he pulls back, his face is pink, and he mutters, “W-wow. I-I’ll write about that one in my journal later.” Then he trips over a rake.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. FOOD FOR ANIMALS .* :☆ﾟ.

✿ Summary: A Compilation of Dating Headcanons Featuring Oliver X Reader

✿ Character(s): Oliver (Threadville)

✿ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

✿ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✿ Image Credits: @Super Skeleton Studio

❀ The first time Oliver realized he liked you was during one of your veggie-pickin’ hangouts. You plucked a tomato with dirt-streaked hands, held it to the sunlight and smiled so proud — and Oliver? He forgot how to speak. The radishes got jealous. “You got a way of makin’ things glow brighter than the sun,” he’d mutter later, kicking at the dirt. “Even tomatoes,” you’d say, nudging him. He turned redder than a boiled beet.

❀ Oliver gets real nervous about gift-giving, but every month he leaves a different wildflower on your windowsill — morning glories, daffodils, clover chains. Once, he left a rock with googly eyes glued to it because “you said you liked silly things”. It’s your favorite gift.

❀ He tries to teach you how to farm, but he gets so flustered when you’re too close. Like, flapping-his-hands-and-dropping-the-watering-can flustered. “O-oh! Your hand’s on mine! Jeepers—! I mean—I don’t mind, I just—WELL DOGGONE IT I CAN’T FOCUS WHEN YOU SMILE LIKE THAT!”

❀ Oliver writes you little love notes, but they’re always hidden. Inside the seed packets. In your jacket pocket. In the breadbox?? One time you found one in the laundry with “SORRY FOR GETTIN’ SOPPY ON YA, I LIKE YOU A WHOLE LOT” written on it. He can’t say it out loud yet. But he means it.

❀ He gets protective in the gentlest ways. Pulls you close when the wind picks up. Offers you his hat when it rains. Stands between you and Veena when she’s being a little too intense. “You’re so nice, it makes my teeth itch,” she grumbles. Oliver just shrugs. “Don’t reckon it costs nothin’ to be kind.”

❀ When you’re sad, Oliver doesn’t always have the words. He’s not great at deep speeches or philosophical comforts. But he’ll sit with you in the fields. Bring pie. Let you cry into his shirt. “We don’t gotta talk. Just let the dirt hold us up today.” It always helps.

❀ He plays the piano for you when he thinks you’re asleep. Soft, twinkly notes drifting through the barn at night. Romcom themes. Little lullabies. The sound of his heart playing itself out, one careful note at a time.

❀ He loves wearing dresses around you, especially on sunny days. One time you complimented how cute he looked and he short-circuited, tripped on a cabbage, and said “Y-you think I’m pretty?!” You do. He still blushes about it.

❀ Oliver can lift heavy things like they’re paper bags, thanks to years of farming. You didn’t expect that. Neither did Veena, who once watched him carry you, two crates of turnips, and a confused chicken across the yard and said “I’m scared. He’s too powerful.”

❀ When he says “I love you” for the first time, it’s quiet. Hesitant. Almost like a secret he’s not sure he’s allowed to share. But when you say it back—when you say it like you mean it—Oliver just melts. “I thought maybe I was too plain for somethin’ as beautiful as you,” he admits. “But if you love me back, then I must be bloom-worthy after all.”

On me hands and knees may I request general romance hcs with Mud x reader? Maybe what he's like when he's whoops in way too deep and realises? Thank you omg

۶ৎ Mud x GN!Reader General Romance HCs

《 A/N: YESS I GOT YOU ANON!! THE CROWD GOES WILD 🗣‼️‼️ I'm IN LOVE with this guy I can't even lie, this prompt is cute asf <33 Ty for requesting! 》

───────────── ۶ৎ ────────────── “Ah, shit."

───────────── ۶ৎ ──────────────

☠︎︎ He realizes he's in love with you when he catches himself stealing trinkets, not for himself, but because he thought 'Y/N might like this.'

☠︎︎ The realization hits him like bullet to the neck!

☠︎︎ He'd try to deny it at first, telling himself that you're just another ‘scheme’ he's working on.

☠︎︎ What scheme you may ask?

☠︎︎ Uh…

☠︎︎ "Just gettin' close to earn their trust... that's all." He lies murmurs to himself under his breath.

☠︎︎ Sure.

☠︎︎ You'd notice him watching you from across the butchershop, quickly averting his eyes whenever you catch him staring.

☠︎︎ Despite his decaying appearance, Mud becomes oddly self-conscious around you when he’s fallen deep!

☠︎︎ He’s adjusting his fedora, straightening his tie and even making sure the melting skin on his face looks ‘presentable’.

☠︎︎ Ken can read his brother like a book, he often catches him staring at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

☠︎︎ "Me? In love?! With Y/N?! HAHAHA! That's rich!” He throws his head back as he cackles fakely. After he’s done ‘laughing’, he’ll probably beat on his chest to clear his throat.

☠︎︎ Ken just rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

☠︎︎ There’s definitely been instances where he asks Ken to cement a person who’s been harassing you around town under the guise of them being an awful person (which they are) similar to how Ken avoided telling Mud why they were trying to hunt Jack.

☠︎︎ When you ask him directly why he's been acting…strange, he'd respond with something like: “Strange? Me? I ain't strange, doll! I'm the most normal rotling in this whole district. It's YOU who's been actin' funny!”

☠︎︎ Watching the light in your eyes sparkle as he hands you a present really warms his heart…wait does he even have one—

☠︎︎ He’ll probably confess with a bouquet of stolen flowers, the ones you once mentioned liking in passing.

☠︎︎ He'd try to impress you with his shooting skills FOR SURE!!

☠︎︎ Despite all these cute gestures, the guy is a BIG flirt and a little shit!

☠︎︎ Since Mud is over 7 feet, the MAN IS TALL and will use it to his advantage!

☠︎︎ And so, he WILL blow smoke in your face lovingly and has the AUDACITY to chuckle to himself as he watches you swat away the fumes from your face

☠︎︎ Plus it doesn’t help that he finds you even more irresistible when you’re mad

☠︎︎ Despite his crass nature, he's surprisingly gentle with you, ONLY in private if course!

☠︎︎ But sometimes he does forget when he’s in front of his (soon to be your) family or flat out doesn’t care, so his sudden tenderness confuses the hell out of the others.

☠︎︎ “GET A ROOM!”

☠︎︎ Speaking of rooms!

☠︎︎ Since the poor fella sleeps on meat hooks in the freezer room, you bought him the mattress he’d been desperately wanting. (The gesture made him fall for you even harder)

☠︎︎ His idea of romance would be teaching you how to shoot/improving your skill if you already know how!

☠︎︎ He starts setting aside some of his stolen goods in a special "Y/N Fund" for your future together.

☠︎︎ He feels so cheesy but he genuinely thinks not being around you is worse than the Inferno itself.

☠︎︎ He’d say cute stuff like that all the time before adding something along the lines of: “Don't you dare tell anyone I said that."

☠︎︎ When you two drift asleep in the same mattress you bought him, he definitely stays awake a little longer to watch you sleep with a content smile on his face before he dozes off.

MY BDAY!!!!

19 YEARS OF CHAOS AND MORE TO COME!!!!

May i ask for Married Mud headcanons ?

hi kinda short sorry i have no idea how married people act my parents hate eachother LOL :3 adding everything new I've written to the masterlist <3

MUD X READER | MARRIED HEADCANONS

He proposed by coughing up an old, slightly cracked ring from his throat and holding it out to you with a grin. It might be made of bone, some metal, who knows. So romantic. The little thing wasn’t expensive or GREAT looking by any means, but he found something he thought you would like. It's pretty nice by GD standards

He never wants to sleep in the freezer ever again. I mentioned before that ever since you got together, he started staying over at your place if you have one, or at least sleeping near you. He’d make any excuse to not sleep back there ever again. But now that you’re married? Absolutely not. He’ll want to share a place of your own together.

Also! Your wedding isn’t anything formal (or normal). He’ll try to arrange some small family event that ends up in chaos. He insists on wearing your best outfit (matching btw) from now on he’s introducing you as his spouse and THEN your name.

The wedding was supposed to be a little get together at the shop. Ken was cooking up something begrudgingly, Mel and Breadhead putting up small decorations. Ken is glad old Mud was able to find someone, maybe finally he’ll calm down a little and work a little harder at the shop. If you got to the point where you’re marrying his brother, it means he likes you enough too.

Anyways in the middle of the party it gets raided by some other rivals. The whole place gets stained with purple. Gun shots, explosions, brains out everywhere. Mud seems to fall harder if you fight by his side. Your outfits are ruined but oh well! He likes the purple on you. He’d do a maniac little laugh at the end of it then scoop you up and kiss you. It’s in the most uncomfortable position for you since he’s so slippery and probably bent all weird, but its special in its own way.

Matching rings! He definitely has your name or initials carved on the inside of the ring, never takes it off. He didn’t tell you but his name is carved in yours too :3 if you forget to wear it or take it off for a second he’s immediately interrogating you.

“Hey… so uh, where’s your ring?” As he pulls up your hand to REALLY inspect your fingers. He’ll get all grumbly about it too.

He’s sleazy but he’s committed to you. Lowkey he never thought he’d get close to something like marriage <3

For once requests are open, could we get a Ken x wife reader??

Pairings -> Ken the Butcher x Wife Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Reader and Ken are together in this

Genre -> Fluff, Headcanons

A/N - Guess who burnt my brothers pizzas... this is why I'm not allowed in the kitchen when I'm sick ;(

KEN

Man you never knew how it would come to this, marrying and being a wife to a Mafia butcher rolting who is part of the smiling dead, well the leader of the smiling dead

Raising a family, a golem son that is made out of bread and a daughter.. (Who is human)

Ken has been the most loyal and trustworthy kind of a guy but with anger issues, a switch in the brain that would make him go mad even the sight of blood on you

He is really protective I mean LIKE REALLY protective

Some days Ken would go out on missions while you take care of the buthershop which he knows that you would handle it pretty well without him there and once he comes back, the whole place is clean and spotless and the cashier is filled with Scarabs which impresses him in the most way

But if you are the one to finish a mission, he would most likely take care of the shop with his family and would sometimes worry for you like he worrys for Mel

I mean you're his WIFE

But you usually come with a whole heap of blood on you which is of course not yours and he immediately falls in love with you over again

He's even more prouder of you as you told him that you got the job done and cleaned the crime, he has taught you well

Ken would mostly spoil you like he spoils his children, I mean YOUr children

He would maybe give you some stuff here and there, maybe a few nice hair accessories, some jewelry like rings or braclets and you would wear them every day and every night

You would literally never take it off and Ken loves that for you

I feel like Ken would be a snorer ANd a heavy sleeper, like imagine one night you are trying to go the bathroom and this man has his arm around your waist and he is gonna be heavy, snoring away as you struggle to get him off of you so you would have to push him away and if that doesn't work then maybe give a hit or two that would surely wake him up

I would also feel like Ken would be the type to go for sweet like ladies that would turn aggressive if someone messes with their family

Like Sweet but crazy kind

Overall Ken is just a sweetheart that just has anger issues sometimes meaning that you two argue a lot, time when it happens on missions, maybe that you want to do something but Ken is saying no because it's too "dangerous"

Oh you can show him dangerous

But it would end up him apologizing for being wrong and that you were tougher than he thinks

But you apologize too to him which makes it equal

You just love to be apart of this family

-A<3

More Gaslight District X Mom!Reader

(Mostly Ken x Wife!Reader Headcanons)

Warning: There are spicy parts in here!🔞

Part One

(A/N: I’m actually glad you guys liked the previous post, so I guess I’ll make another one! Man, so many people liked it-🫀🫀)

• You and Ken’s relationship was the perfect example of unhinged and wholesome. Two proud parents of a big, happy psychotic family. You both have never been more happier in your lives.

• You were always the calm to Ken’s storm. Whenever the gears would shift in Ken’s head, you would always be there to calm him down during his random wrathful outbursts.

• You always thought losing his temper was cute, but work was too hasty for him to flip shit every 5 seconds. Ken would always feel ashamed whenever his wife would calm him down whenever he got too wrathful.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! I SWEAR I’LL-!”

“Shh, Ken! You’re yelling again. The kids are sleeping!”

“…oh…sorry, honey.”

• Of course, you’re always there for your husband whenever he needs a hand. Being a father and a don of a mafia is never easy, so you’re always willing to switch places with Ken if it means that your hubby gets the rest that he deserves.

• Marrying Ken was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you. In all of your undead years of living in The Gaslight District, you’ve never thought you’d find someone to finally complete you. Ken has always felt the same way.

• Your wedding night with him was absolutely unforgettable, too. Instead of saying wedding vows at a chapel, you and Ken completed your vows by bombing the building of the rivaling gangs. You still remember how the remains of the victims rained down upon you and Ken while you two kissed, nearly staining your wedding dress.

• The honeymoon was even better. You two nearly spent the entire day gushing over one another and loudly bumping hips (much to Mud’s dismay). In bed, in the car, on the kitchen table, in the shower, even on the floor. Ken was always rough with you and you loved it.

• Ken knows how much of a hold he has on you and he loves it. To his deep and attractive voice, his handsome strongfat body, and his loving personality. This delicious man leaves you weak to the knees with the littlest effort.

• You also tend to do the same to him, only unintentionally. Wearing his favorite perfume makes him more clingy to you than ever, soothing him with your sweet voice leaves him all flustered, and bending over while at work can guarantee that he’ll leave a hard smack on your ass.

• Ken has a secret little hobby of flustering you out of nowhere. Watching you perk up and blush by his words really strokes his ego.

“You know, Ken. Considering how much beefy you were back in the day I’m not surprised you stretched your old clothes out!”

“Heh, that’s not the only thing I’ve stretched out, hon...”

“O-Oh, my…”

• The last thing you expected was starting a family with Ken. Sure, kids are great and parenting was a beautiful yet, difficult thing, but you never really saw yourself being a mother, considering how violent your life is.

• Although it has been hard for you to decide, you immediately changed your mind when you first saw Breadhead and then Mel as babies. Two beautiful bundles of joy that you would destroy the world for.

• When Breadhead was first born, you and Ken were all over him. Your firstborn son, fresh out the oven, joyfully being held in a bundle by his new tearful parents.

“Oh, Ken! He’s perfect! Look at his cute little bread head…”

“I know, look at him! Our son! Our little roll of joy…”

• After you and Ken became parents, you began to stay behind at the Butcher Shop to take care of baby Breadhead. Ken and Mud were bummed out that you couldn’t go with them, but someone has to babysit.

• Your favorite memory of Breadhead is when he first ate a Rotling in one bite when he was 3. You still have a picture of that moment.

• Watching Breadhead grow up was a wild but enjoyable experience. From his first steps, his first word, and his first kill, you were nothing but a sweet and loving parent to him. Hence, why he became such a mama’s boy.

• But when Mel came into the family, so much has changed in your life. You weren’t fully aware what kind of bad blood Ken had with the Virtues and he never really wanted to talk about it. You remembered how shocked you were when Ken arrived at the shop with the human baby in his arms.

• Like others, you were fearful of the legend of the human child that would end The Black Hand’s curse of immortality throughout The Gaslight District. You first had thoughts of getting rid of Mel out of panic, but you then stopped yourself after seeing her for the first time.

• You remembered how her small pale head poked out of the bundle she was wrapped in with her precious round red eyes looking up at you in wonder. This beautiful human baby girl gazed at you with no fear regardless of your deathly appearance and immediately your panic was replaced with love.

• Ken was unsure whether or not he could trust you with the secret that Mel is the human, but when you slowly walked up to him, with you’re eyes glued to baby Mel, relief was what he nearly expected.

“(Y/N), please just-“

“…She’s beautiful…”

“…I knew I could trust you.”

• Words couldn’t describe how relieved and overjoyed Ken was when you agreed to keep the secret with him without hesitation. You two both knew that he couldn’t carry that burden alone and you completely moved by the fact that he believed that he could trust you with such a thing. You and Ken became much closer while raising Mel.

• Unlike Breadhead, Mel would always want to spend more time with Ken, but unfortunately he would always go on missions with Mud and Breadhead so she was mostly stuck with you in the Butcher Shop.

• Mel barely admits it, but she thinks you’re way cooler than Ken. As much as a daddy’s girl she is she can’t get enough of you being badass. Especially the time where she watched you traumatize the hell out of a creep.

• Ken absolutely loves it when you and Mel have precious mother-daughter moments together. Nothing makes his heart burst more than seeing his two favorite girls having a great time together.

• Ken nearly cried tears of joy when he watched you two slaughter a gang of Rotlings trying to rob the store with absolute glee together. When the entire gang was practically mincemeat, you and Mel’s similar deranged laughs echoed through shop as Ken heart melted at the sight of his wife and daughter together.

• Like mother, like daughter, right?

“Ken, are you crying, mate?”

“With pride, Mud…with pride…”

• Even though your marriage is perfect, it’s not unheard of you two getting into fights. Usually it happens when it comes to regarding Mel’s safety from The Gaslight District. Of course, it would never get physical though.

• The outcome of these fights would never be pretty, but in the end, you and Ken would always make up and apologize for the conflict you two put each other through. Parenting is never easy, but you two always needed each other to keep things straight.

“Look, (Y/N)…about the things I’ve said before I-“

“No, no. It’s alright, Ken. I know you want what’s best for Mel. It’s just that…it’s really difficult…”

“I know. But, all I know is that we’re together in this and I know you have my back…”

• You and Ken would always love to go back on old memories together. You two would usually sit on the couch looking at old pictures of the family and talk about your favorite old times together.

• Mel, Breadhead, and Mud would often join in on these conversations. Mud really took time to remember each and every moment you, him and Ken spent together. Of course, he would always poke fun at you two being gushy over one another.

• And everyday, you and Ken always take the time out of your day’s to remind each other how much you love one another. You two would usually find romantic ways to pass up the time whenever you two were alone, either in a sweet or spicy way.

•You can’t imagine yourself being with another man other than Ken. Your life has changed so much for the better with your amazing husband. As for Ken, he feels the happiest man on earth whenever he sees you every day. Proposing to you was the best choice he’s ever made in his life.

• As the killer couple of The Smiling Dead, you two have made quite a reputation together. Every Rotling in the Gaslight District knew better than to oppose one of you two, knowing that you have each other’s back always. A mafia couple so strong that not even death could bring you two part.

Gaslight District X Mom!Reader Headcanons

Part Two

(Reader is Butcher Ken’s wife and Mel and Breadhead’s Mama.)

• Being the wife of a mafia boss while being the mother of a human and a yeast golem is pure insanity, but when it comes to the love for your family, there’s nothing you cannot handle.

• You mostly spend your days tending to The Whale Belly Butchershop while Ken and Mud are on their missions with the kids, but it’s not unheard of for you to join them.

• Mel would always be the first person to bounce into your arms after a successful killing mission, rambling about how awesome the trip was and how she helped the gang. She would always love hearing your words of praise after putting up with Ken’s endless bickering for her safety.

“…and then I used the chainsaw! Pretty cool, huh, mom?”

“Oh-ho-ho! I wish I was there to see it, sweetie!”

• You would always quickly tend to Mel whenever she was injured after a mission.

• Like Ken, you were severely worried about your daughter’s safety, considering how you and your husband are the only people who know she’s a human. Though, unlike him, you’re not as overprotective.

• And Mel absolutely loves you for that. She would often use you as leverage for winning arguments with her dad when it comes to her safety.

“Mel, I always told you not to-!”

“Oh, c’mon, Ken! You never let me go outside on my own! Mom always lets me!”

“DON’T BRING YOUR MOTHER INTO THIS!”

• Breadhead is a total mama’s boy and will always look forward to at least spending time with you every single day. The silly bread man just loves your guts. You’ve been nothing but sweet to him since he was a bun in the oven and he’s always willing to return the love.

• Anything his mama says, he’ll do it. Do chores at work, he’ll do it. Bring a souvenir from one of the missions, he’ll do it. Cement the man that insulted your cooking, he’ll do it.

• Just like how Mel wants Ken to be proud of her, Breadhead can’t get enough of you being proud of him.

• There was a time when you joined the Smiling Dead on a mission and Breadhead was bubbling with excitement. He was twice as excited to fight with his mama and often turned to you for praise after brutally mutilating a random Rotling.

“Mama, did you see that? Did you see what I did?”

“Of course, honey bun. Mama’s so proud!”

“Heh heh! Mama’s proud of me!”

• Even though you don’t join missions, you’re just as insane and demented as the rest of the crew. Though you do a better job at hiding it than the others. Ken and Mud find you fun to be around because of this.

• Your kids would be busy ripping apart their latest victim and you would be just watching them, unfazed with a calm yet proud smile, completely splattered in the victims purple blood.

• Ken would always plan date nights with you whenever your schedule was open. Slow dancing in the closed butcher shop with soft music in the background was always his go-to for a romantic night.

• You and Ken were the undead Bonnie and Clyde of the town, but better. You, Ken, and Mud were the only members of the Smiling Gang before Mel and Breadhead were born.

• Mud would often reminisce those days. He would always bring up how he missed those good old times when it was just you three and how much more exciting and crazier the missions were back in the day.

“Ah, Mel. You should’ve seen (Y/N) back then when she was in the crew! She was one crazy bitch!”

“Watch it, Mud! But yes, I quite was…”

• Mud often tends to steal your things just to rile you up. He knows that pissing you off is like playing with fire, but hey, what’s more fun than bickering with his sister-in-law?

• Being the wife of a mafia don always has its perks. Ken never stops spoiling you after making a good amount of scarab from work. Dresses, jewelry, custom-made knives, he always knew what you wanted.

• He happily remembered how you squealed with joy and covered his face with kisses after he gave you a torture rack as a gift on your 4th anniversary together.

• And just like Ken, you know how to spoil him too. Cooking his favorite meals, gifting him a new car and weapons, giving him a divine massage after a long and hard day of work, and always being there for him when he needs a hand.

• Ken feels like the luckiest man on earth whenever you have his back. He always tends to solve his own problems when it comes to crooks that try to mess with his family, but when his wife does it for him? He has hearts in his eyes for you.

• There was a time when a random creepy guy tried to grope Mel in the butcher shop. Before Ken could skin the fool, the creep was already bleeding on the ground, shrieking for mercy from you. But his pleas fell upon deaf ears.

• The other residents of the shop nearly pissed icicles from the smiling death stare you gave to the creep while slowly torturing him. Your calm threats to him didn’t make it better either. While Mel watched you slowly eviscerate the creep in excitement, Ken swooned at the sight of his beautiful wife defending their daughter.

“PLEASE! I’M SORRY! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!”

“…If you ever try to touch my baby girl that way again…I’ll tear out your spine through your dickhole and mulch your shit body into steaming mush…repeatedly and SLOWLY…”

• And yeah. That turns Ken on.

“Uh, dad? Why are you looking at mom like that?”

“Oh, Mel…your mother sure knows how to disturb the peace…in my pants…”

“AUGH! GROSS! TMI, DAD!”

reblog if ur mom is smart and beautiful

Gaslight District fanfic writers on their way to create literal masterpieces for a show with a barely one month old pilot

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

HELLO!!!

it's almost my 19th birthday!!! Yay!

Okay so I'm lowkey struggling with my mental health atm, and I am tweaking pretty hard rn. It will probably be awhile until I start posting things again, but I will be online!... mostly because I go through x reader tags like a maniac but you get the point.

I WILL RETURN! TRUST

D̵e̵a̷r̵ ̵E̵s̴t̴e̸e̷m̶e̷d̷ ̷M̴o̶r̴t̶a̴l̸,̷

̶I̶t̷ ̴i̷s̷ ̸w̸i̸t̸h̶ ̶g̴r̴e̸a̵t̴ ̷p̶l̵e̵a̴s̷u̸r̷e̴ ̷t̵h̷a̸t̴ ̵I̶ ̵p̴e̸n̶ ̵t̵h̴i̸s̶ ̸l̷e̶t̶t̵e̴r̴ ̶t̵o̶ ̶y̷o̵u̶,̸ ̴d̸e̸t̸a̴i̴l̴i̷n̴g̷ ̸t̴h̶e̴ ̵m̵o̵s̷t̶ ̷e̷x̸q̵u̷i̵s̷i̶t̶e̷ ̷a̷n̴d̷ ̸d̶e̵l̸e̵c̴t̴a̵b̵l̴e̴ ̴e̸x̵p̴e̵r̴i̷e̷n̷c̸e̶ ̵o̶f̶ ̴m̵y̷ ̶r̶e̵c̶e̶n̷t̶ ̵e̵n̵d̶e̵a̵v̵o̴r̸s̴.̷ ̶I̸ ̸w̵r̷i̵t̷e̴ ̶t̶o̷ ̸y̴o̸u̶ ̸w̵i̴t̸h̸ ̸a̶n̴ ̶u̵n̶d̵e̶a̴d̶ ̶h̶e̷a̶r̶t̷ ̶f̵u̴l̵l̵ ̵o̷f̶ ̵p̶u̴r̷e̵ ̶e̸c̶s̷t̷a̴s̵y̵.̴ ̶A̷l̵l̶o̵w̶ ̴m̴e̴ ̶t̶o̶ ̸r̸e̸g̵a̷l̷e̵ ̸y̷o̶u̶ ̷w̶i̸t̵h̵ ̶t̶h̵e̸ ̵t̸a̶l̴e̴ ̸o̷f̸ ̷h̶o̵w̸ ̵I̸,̸ ̵C̵o̷l̷m̴ ̶O̶'̶D̶r̸i̷s̷c̸o̷l̴l̸,̷ ̶t̴h̶e̶ ̵f̷e̸a̵r̵e̶d̷ ̶l̸e̴a̵d̸e̸r̸ ̵o̶f̶ ̷t̴h̷e̶ ̶O̸'̷D̷r̴i̴s̴c̵o̷l̴l̴ ̴B̷o̸y̸s̴,̵ ̷c̸a̴p̴t̶u̶r̵e̶d̷ ̸a̷n̷d̵ ̵s̴a̸v̴o̴r̸e̷d̵ ̴t̶h̵e̵ ̶f̴l̶e̵s̷h̷ ̶o̷f̴ ̴t̷h̵e̵ ̶i̴n̶f̶a̶m̷o̶u̵s̵ ̸V̵a̸n̸d̷e̷r̷.̴ ̴O̶u̸r̷ ̵p̴a̷t̶h̵s̷ ̶c̷r̸o̶s̸s̶e̷d̸ ̴i̴n̶ ̸a̸ ̴m̷o̷s̶t̸ ̸u̸n̸e̵x̵p̶e̷c̷t̶e̵d̸ ̷m̶a̵n̸n̷e̶r̸,̷ ̵a̸s̷ ̷V̵a̸n̴d̶e̸r̶ ̶f̵o̸u̵n̸d̴ ̵h̵i̵m̶s̶e̵l̸f̶ ̴a̴t̸ ̵t̶h̶e̸ ̷m̸e̷r̸c̸y̵ ̸o̶f̷ ̷m̵y̷ ̶m̵e̶n̶.̸ ̷O̷h̵,̴ ̴t̵h̸e̴ ̵l̷o̵o̸k̶ ̷o̸f̶ ̶f̵e̷a̶r̵ ̷a̴n̶d̸ ̵d̵e̶f̴i̷a̶n̴c̸e̵ ̸i̴n̴ ̷h̵i̶s̴ ̵e̷y̶e̷s̷ ̴o̵n̵l̵y̴ ̵s̵e̴r̶v̵e̷d̶ ̷t̶o̸ ̷f̴u̶e̴l̸ ̶m̸y̵ ̴a̵p̴p̸e̷t̸i̷t̷e̴ ̴f̶o̸r̵ ̵w̴h̸a̴t̶ ̴w̷a̸s̵ ̵t̶o̷ ̸c̶o̶m̶e̷.̶ ̵T̸h̷e̶ ̶p̴o̸o̴r̸ ̵f̴o̴o̶l̶ ̴t̴h̵o̷u̷g̷h̸t̶ ̸h̴e̵ ̸c̴o̵u̶l̵d̵ ̶o̶u̷t̷w̶i̵t̸ ̴u̵s̸,̴ ̸b̷u̵t̸ ̸l̸i̶t̵t̵l̸e̴ ̵d̸i̷d̵ ̵h̶e̴ ̶k̷n̶o̶w̴ ̷t̸h̶e̵ ̶t̷r̴u̶e̸ ̴e̷x̵t̴e̴n̸t̸ ̴o̵f̵ ̵m̸y̸ ̴p̸r̴o̸w̸e̸s̶s̶ ̷i̸n̴ ̴t̸h̸e̸ ̶a̷r̸t̶ ̴o̸f̴ ̶t̵o̶r̵t̵u̷r̶e̶ ̷a̴n̴d̴ ̵c̷o̵n̴s̷u̵m̶p̸t̴i̴o̵n̸.̷

̴W̸e̵ ̷b̸r̴o̴u̸g̵h̷t̴ ̴V̵a̸n̶d̸e̷r̸ ̴t̵o̵ ̶a̸ ̵s̷e̷c̴l̷u̸d̸e̵d̷ ̸c̴a̸b̷i̵n̶ ̷d̵e̵e̸p̶ ̵i̶n̵ ̵t̴h̷e̵ ̴h̷e̸a̸r̴t̵ ̵o̸f̷ ̷t̷h̴e̵ ̵f̷o̷r̷e̷s̴t̸,̴ ̸w̵h̶e̴r̴e̶ ̷I̴ ̶h̶a̸d̶ ̷p̸r̶e̵p̵a̶r̸e̶d̴ ̷a̶ ̵f̸e̴a̵s̴t̶ ̴f̸i̶t̸ ̴f̸o̷r̶ ̸a̵ ̴k̷i̸n̸g̷.̴ ̷T̸h̴e̶ ̵f̷l̵i̸c̶k̸e̸r̸i̶n̶g̶ ̸l̶i̴g̸h̷t̴ ̸o̴f̶ ̷t̷h̶e̶ ̷g̷a̴s̵ ̵l̶a̵m̸p̶s̸ ̸c̶a̷s̸t̷e̷d̴ ̶e̷e̶r̶i̸e̸ ̸s̶h̵a̸d̴o̷w̸s̵ ̴u̵p̶o̴n̸ ̶t̸h̵e̴ ̷w̶a̵l̵l̴s̷,̷ ̸s̵e̷t̶t̷i̸n̶g̶ ̷t̶h̸e̷ ̴p̴e̵r̶f̷e̷c̷t̶ ̵a̸m̵b̵i̵a̶n̴c̴e̶ ̶f̸o̴r̷ ̸t̷h̴e̷ ̶f̸e̷s̸t̴i̶v̴i̸t̵i̸e̷s̶ ̶t̴h̵a̴t̷ ̵w̶e̶r̷e̷ ̶a̴b̷o̶u̸t̵ ̴t̷o̸ ̶u̸n̴f̶o̵l̶d̵.̸ ̷V̷a̴n̸d̴e̸r̴ ̴w̴a̸s̸ ̵b̵o̴u̸n̴d̴,̵ ̸h̸a̷p̸l̸e̵s̵s̵ ̶a̸n̷d̵ ̵h̵e̸l̵p̷l̶e̷s̶s̴,̴ ̷h̴i̶s̵ ̷s̴t̵r̸u̷g̵g̸l̵e̴s̸ ̵f̴u̷t̴i̴l̶e̶ ̶a̷g̷a̸i̶n̸s̶t̷ ̶t̶h̸e̷ ̷m̷i̵g̴h̴t̴ ̴o̶f̸ ̶m̴y̵ ̶b̷o̸y̴s̸.̸ ̸W̶i̵t̶h̶ ̸a̷ ̷w̵i̵c̷k̶e̴d̸ ̴g̵r̶i̸n̴ ̵u̴p̵o̷n̸ ̸m̶y̵ ̶f̸a̷c̸e̵,̴ ̸I̸ ̴a̵p̶p̸r̴o̴a̶c̵h̴e̶d̵ ̴V̴a̴n̸d̷e̷r̷,̴ ̴r̵u̸n̶n̵i̶n̷g̵ ̵a̴ ̷f̸i̸n̸g̵e̶r̵ ̵a̴l̵o̵n̴g̷ ̷h̶i̴s̶ ̴j̶a̴w̵l̵i̴n̴e̸ ̷a̴s̶ ̸I̷ ̴a̶d̴m̴i̸r̴e̸d̵ ̶t̴h̵e̵ ̸f̴i̶n̷e̶ ̵s̴p̶e̷c̷i̸m̸e̴n̶ ̸b̷e̶f̸o̶r̶e̸ ̷m̶e̶.̴ ̵H̷i̸s̶ ̸s̷c̶r̴e̶a̵m̸s̵ ̷o̷f̵ ̴a̶g̶o̸n̸y̷ ̵o̴n̵l̷y̶ ̸s̵e̷r̷v̴e̷d̵ ̷t̴o̵ ̷f̵u̵r̴t̶h̶e̶r̸ ̷m̸y̶ ̸h̴u̵n̵g̶e̶r̵,̸ ̸a̵n̸d̵ ̵I̷ ̶w̷a̵s̶t̴e̵d̴ ̴n̵o̶ ̷t̸i̷m̷e̶ ̷i̸n̸ ̷b̵e̶g̸i̸n̷n̵i̷n̸g̶ ̴t̷h̴e̴ ̶f̵e̴a̸s̴t̶.̸ ̷I̷ ̸s̸t̵a̶r̵t̶e̶d̵ ̸w̴i̸t̵h̸ ̸h̸i̶s̸ ̸f̷i̷n̵g̴e̴r̴s̶,̸ ̷o̴n̸e̵ ̷b̸y̵ ̴o̶n̵e̶,̵ ̸r̵e̴l̷i̶s̶h̷i̶n̶g̷ ̷t̵h̵e̸ ̴c̸r̵u̷n̶c̸h̵ ̴o̷f̸ ̶b̶o̵n̴e̷ ̸a̸n̸d̸ ̴s̸i̸n̶e̸w̴ ̵b̵e̸t̷w̶e̶e̷n̷ ̵m̶y̶ ̸t̶e̷e̷t̵h̶.̵ ̴T̶h̶e̵ ̴t̷a̶s̷t̷e̷ ̷o̷f̸ ̶h̷i̸s̴ ̴f̵l̴e̶s̸h̸ ̶w̷a̸s̴ ̸l̵i̴k̸e̵ ̷n̷o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̷ ̸I̵ ̸h̴a̴d̸ ̵e̷x̵p̷e̵r̵i̷e̸n̴c̶e̶d̵ ̶b̴e̴f̴o̷r̷e̵,̷ ̵a̶ ̴t̷a̵n̷t̸a̷l̷i̵z̵i̷n̵g̸ ̷b̷l̸e̵n̸d̴ ̵o̶f̷ ̵f̶e̵a̵r̵ ̸a̷n̶d̷ ̴d̵e̴s̸p̷e̸r̷a̴t̵i̶o̸n̷ ̴t̵h̶a̴t̶ ̴o̵n̶l̷y̴ ̴h̷e̸i̶g̵h̵t̸e̸n̴e̷d̶ ̶m̶y̴ ̷p̸l̴e̶a̵s̸u̶r̴e̶.̷

̷A̷s̷ ̴t̶h̷e̶ ̷n̶i̵g̴h̶t̴ ̵w̷o̴r̸e̵ ̸o̸n̸,̴ ̶I̸ ̷c̸o̶n̸t̸i̴n̶u̶e̸d̵ ̶m̶y̴ ̷g̶r̶u̶e̷s̷o̸m̸e̷ ̴f̴e̸a̸s̵t̴,̷ ̵s̷a̶v̶o̸r̸i̴n̷g̷ ̴e̴v̴e̷r̴y̵ ̸m̶o̶r̷s̵e̴l̷ ̸o̸f̶ ̴V̷a̷n̴d̵e̴r̸'̴s̷ ̷b̸e̷i̵n̶g̵.̷ ̵H̵i̸s̵ ̵c̵r̸i̸e̸s̶ ̵o̴f̸ ̸a̴n̶g̶u̴i̷s̵h̸ ̸e̴c̶h̸o̶e̷d̷ ̴t̷h̵r̷o̵u̴g̶h̸ ̸t̵h̴e̴ ̴c̵a̶b̵i̸n̸,̸ ̷a̵ ̸s̴y̷m̶p̴h̴o̷n̸y̶ ̸o̴f̷ ̷s̸u̷f̴f̷e̵r̶i̵n̵g̴ ̸t̷h̸a̵t̶ ̶s̶e̶r̷v̵e̶d̵ ̸a̶s̸ ̸t̶h̷e̷ ̸p̸e̵r̶f̶e̵c̵t̷ ̴a̵c̵c̴o̴m̴p̶a̵n̶i̴m̴e̷n̷t̵ ̵t̷o̵ ̷m̶y̸ ̵m̶e̵a̵l̷.̸ ̸I̶ ̴f̴e̸a̴s̸t̶e̷d̵ ̸u̸p̷o̵n̶ ̴h̶i̴s̵ ̷f̷l̷e̶s̵h̸ ̴w̶i̶t̸h̵ ̵a̸ ̸v̴o̶r̴a̴c̴i̸o̵u̸s̴ ̸a̵p̴p̵e̸t̶i̸t̷e̷,̷ ̷e̴a̶c̸h̵ ̵b̴i̸t̴e̶ ̴b̶r̶i̷n̷g̵i̸n̸g̸ ̵m̴e̷ ̴c̴l̸o̵s̷e̸r̸ ̶t̴o̸ ̵a̸ ̴s̷t̸a̸t̵e̴ ̸o̶f̸ ̵e̵u̷p̷h̸o̸r̴i̸a̵ ̶t̶h̴a̶t̵ ̶I̶ ̵h̴a̴d̶ ̴n̶e̸v̶e̴r̵ ̴b̴e̶f̴o̶r̵e̸ ̷e̸x̸p̷e̶r̶i̸e̸n̷c̵e̵d̶.̴ ̶B̴u̴t̶ ̵i̴t̸ ̴w̷a̵s̷ ̴n̸o̶t̷ ̵j̵u̶s̴t̷ ̷t̴h̴e̴ ̶p̵h̷y̶s̷i̷c̸a̶l̶ ̸a̵c̸t̴ ̵o̷f̵ ̸c̸o̵n̵s̵u̵m̶i̷n̷g̵ ̸V̶a̸n̵d̵e̵r̸ ̸t̸h̴a̷t̶ ̴b̶r̴o̵u̵g̴h̸t̸ ̶m̶e̷ ̴s̶u̸c̶h̵ ̸p̴l̴e̴a̵s̶u̴r̸e̸.̶ ̶I̷t̴ ̵w̶a̵s̶ ̶t̴h̵e̷ ̸k̸n̵o̸w̶l̵e̵d̵g̷e̴ ̴t̴h̷a̶t̵ ̴I̶ ̴h̴e̶l̴d̴ ̸h̶i̸s̸ ̵f̷a̸t̷e̸ ̸i̶n̷ ̴m̶y̶ ̵h̴a̸n̷d̵s̷,̶ ̴t̶h̵a̴t̶ ̵I̵ ̴a̸l̷o̴n̷e̴ ̸h̴a̸d̵ ̷t̵h̵e̸ ̵p̵o̷w̴e̴r̵ ̷t̴o̵ ̷d̸e̶c̴i̵d̵e̶ ̸h̸i̷s̷ ̷u̴l̵t̶i̴m̴a̴t̴e̸ ̴d̷e̵m̷i̷s̶e̷.̴ ̴T̵h̴e̴ ̴l̴o̴o̴k̷ ̴o̴f̷ ̶r̶e̴a̸l̴i̶z̸a̷t̶i̷o̴n̷ ̴i̵n̷ ̶h̷i̶s̶ ̶e̸y̵e̷s̸ ̶a̴s̴ ̶h̶e̴ ̵u̶n̴d̷e̸r̶s̷t̷o̴o̸d̷ ̶t̴h̴e̴ ̷d̷e̴p̴t̸h̸ ̴o̴f̷ ̶h̵i̸s̶ ̴p̸r̴e̶d̵i̶c̸a̴m̵e̷n̵t̶ ̶o̸n̸l̷y̸ ̶s̶e̵r̴v̸e̴d̶ ̵t̷o̸ ̸f̶u̴e̶l̴ ̸m̴y̷ ̴s̸a̵d̴i̴s̸t̶i̶c̵ ̵d̴e̷s̷i̶r̵e̷s̵.̶ ̶A̴n̶d̶ ̸s̵o̴,̶ ̷e̷s̶t̴e̴e̵m̵e̸d̸ ̵m̵o̶r̷t̷a̶l̵,̷ ̶I̶ ̸w̸r̸i̷t̸e̴ ̶t̴o̸ ̸y̶o̷u̴ ̷n̸o̴w̵ ̴w̴i̷t̸h̶ ̵a̷ ̵h̵e̵a̷r̶t̵ ̸f̶u̶l̶l̵ ̶o̷f̸ ̴s̸a̴t̸i̵s̵f̸a̶c̴t̷i̴o̵n̸ ̷a̵n̵d̵ ̷c̴o̷n̴t̴e̵n̶t̶m̶e̶n̸t̷.̶ ̴T̶h̸e̶ ̷t̴a̷s̴t̵e̸ ̷o̸f̶ ̸V̷a̵n̵d̵e̸r̵'̴s̶ ̶f̵l̶e̵s̴h̷ ̵s̶t̷i̵l̵l̵ ̸l̵i̷n̷g̶e̸r̶s̷ ̴u̴p̴o̷n̴ ̵m̸y̸ ̷l̸i̴p̵s̴,̶ ̴a̷ ̸r̴e̸m̷i̴n̴d̵e̷r̵ ̸o̸f̸ ̶t̴h̵e̸ ̵p̵o̷w̴e̸r̶ ̵a̸n̷d̴ ̴c̴o̴n̵t̷r̵o̷l̵ ̸t̵h̷a̶t̷ ̷I̵ ̴w̵i̶e̷l̶d̸ ̷o̵v̷e̷r̸ ̷t̸h̵o̸s̴e̷ ̴w̴h̸o̷ ̶d̵a̵r̶e̶ ̷t̸o̷ ̴c̴r̵o̸s̶s̷ ̵m̵e̸.̸ ̵I̶ ̷s̶h̷a̵l̴l̸ ̵n̶e̴v̸e̵r̸ ̴f̷o̴r̷g̶e̸t̸ ̶t̶h̷e̷ ̷n̶i̵g̶h̴t̵ ̸t̴h̵a̸t̸ ̸I̷ ̸f̸e̶a̸s̴t̸e̴d̴ ̵u̶p̸o̶n̶ ̸t̴h̵e̵ ̶f̵l̴e̸s̵h̵ ̸o̸f̶ ̷t̸h̶e̶ ̷i̸n̸f̴a̸m̴o̷u̴s̴ ̷V̵a̷n̶d̶e̴r̸ ̶f̴r̶o̸m̴ ̴A̷r̶c̵a̷n̵e̶,̵ ̵a̵ ̷m̸e̵a̵l̴ ̵t̷h̷a̶t̵ ̶w̴i̸l̸l̸ ̶f̶o̴r̴e̴v̵e̷r̴ ̴b̷e̸ ̸e̸t̵c̴h̴e̸d̵ ̸i̶n̸t̶o̵ ̴t̴h̸e̶ ̴a̷n̷n̶a̵l̶s̴ ̵o̸f̵ ̸m̶y̸ ̷d̷a̴r̸k̷ ̸a̴n̶d̸ ̷t̵w̶i̵s̴t̷e̵d̶ ̶l̶e̶g̴a̵c̴y̵.̶

̸Y̴o̵u̷r̶s̵ ̵i̸n̸ ̸m̷u̵r̵d̵e̷r̸,̴

̶C̶o̸l̵m̵ ̸O̶'̵D̶r̵i̷s̶c̴o̷l̸l̸

The shock value of these kind of runs out after the first time, sorry buddy better luck next time LMAO.

It was high key nice to have someone in my inbox just trolling then the seven million bots begging for money (that I don't have💔)

you think fat trans men are hot. reblog

Hey so sorry to bother you but this has been on my mind for so long is it possible that Vander from arcane could be the biological father of claggor like look at the resemblance between Vander and claggor like when claggor is an adult he resembles young adult Vander right so it could be possible that Vander went to the brothels and met a woman who worked at the brothels and then he unknowingly got her pregnant 9 months later she had claggor what do you think though this is just a thought to me.

Hey! You're not a bother at all :)

I definitely think it's possible, they look SO similar! Again, could just be a coincidence but from what we know, Vander got into alot of chaos when he was younger so who's to say that he didn't spend some time at the brothel or three?

I do really like this idea though, maybe the mother died during birth- very probable because of the living conditions in Zaun :( or maybe she just couldn't or didnt want to raise a baby which is also fair. Getting proper health care down there would also be pretty dangerous unless you could afford the good stuff, so getting a safe abortion probably wouldn't be possible and contraceptives would also be hard to get your hands on aswell.

I'm not super into like, theories and ships and all those things. I look at them and go "Yeah, that's cool" or "Very possible!" Because that's just who I am, but I have no issue with people who do get super into those things as long as they are respectful about it, you know? But I Do really like this theory, I think it's really cute :D

off screen caine activities

What I think it would be like to cuddle with the OUAW lads!!! (+ Hootsie!)

This is all coming from someone who's only at like episode 5/6 💔 I just really love these little goobers. Also, all of these are written weirdly because I'm literally just writing whatever thought pops into my head, so different characters with have different situations and things like that, so please bare with me!!!

With Kremy, about half of your cuddles end up with Gideon aswell. They're a package deal, and you know it. Now, he won't ask for cuddles, you have to be the one to initiate it. He also isn't a massive fan of PDA, but he won't object if you want to cuddle up to him in the day. After all, he gets to show off his amazing partner and smugly stare back at any jealous onlookers. He won't deny that he very much enjoys the jealous that radiates off of people and monsters alike when they see him with his amazing partners. He definitely comes up behind you and hugs your waist with his head over your shoulder, so he can watch what you're doing. Once he puts his arms around you though, he often decides that he's had enough of other people and that's when you can sneak in a few cuddles.

He would lie on his back and hold you while you rest your head on his chest and he definitely wouldn't be complaining if you ran your fingers over his scales while you both got comfortable. It is a DREAM to cuddle up to him in summer, he might wrap himself around you just so you can be a bit more comfortable in the heat. He also wraps his tail around you. When all three of you cuddle, you two rest on either side of Gideon. He's your guys favourite pillow! (This is totally not an idea that I borrowed from the-unexpected-council, go check them out if you like OUAW x reader content because they are FIRE!!!) But when you are separated by Gideon, and you had your hand up on his chest, Kremy would hold yours. You basically trap Gideon under your arms and all three of you couldn't be happier.

Though, Kremy definitely has a skin(scale?)-care routine. He probably sleeps with some sort of face cream or face mask on. He would be thrilled if you both did your skincare together, it's something special for you both to do... even though it would end up with you both laying like mummies try not to mess up your skin. Gideon would not be impressed if you were all going to bed together, like you usually do.

Gideon is one of the BEST cuddlers in the group (totally not biased or anything...) and he absolutely loves physical affection, PDA, cuddling- he LOVES it. He will show off you and Kremy, he doesn't care that he's openly showing off. When he's ready for bed, he will just pick you up and walk off. He will only pick up Kremy if he is over-working himself and stressed out... or if he just wants to mess with him. He would definitely pick you and Kremy up, sling you both over his shoulders and grin as you both laugh. He might do a couple spins though, just to hear you both cackle.

When you're going to bed, if you want to, he will let you pick out some sleeping clothes. This is mainly in winter, since he wouldn't wear that much to bed in the warmer seasons. He would laugh if you pick out the cupcake chad shirt, he would put it on though... and probably flex for you. He doesn't care too much about what he wears, as long as he's comfortable. But, he's occasionally going to want to pick what YOU wear, be warned.

Once you're in bed, you're in bed and you arent getting up to he is. He has an almost iron grip on you if you cuddle up just in his arms, he has tried to fix this but he just loves you so much- even in his sleep. You could probably wiggle out with Kremys help, but if he's not there you're gonna be stuck. Like I said earlier, when you all go to bed together, he lays in the middle while you and Kremy lay on either side of him. He will get a little huffy if you cuddle up to Kremy, while he's there too but he gets over it once you go back to your place at his side.

Once the cold season comes around, he's more then happy to absolutely smother you two in cuddles. If you were stuck outside, camping in the cold or snow, he would become stressed and protective of both you and Kremy. Not that he isn't already protective, he IS a bodyguard after all but he almost always near you two- just to be sure that the cold won't cause you harm. He definitely keeps you two close, especially when you're going to bed. The idea of waking up and having lost one or both of you to the cold absolutely terrifies him so he ends up over-heating the tent. But, once you're all awake and realise what's going on, you both give him comfort and you're all able to sleep again.

(If someone wrote a little fanfic about this, I totally wouldn't fall inlove with them or anything...)

Frost isn't necessarily a cuddler, not that he doesn't enjoy it! He's just not used to it, you know? You'd have to get him used to it, but once he is used to it... every opportunity to cuddle is taken. If you were in a colder environment, it doesnt matter if you can handle tk the cold or not, he wrap you in his robe, especially if you are alot smaller than him. It has a very earthy smell, maybe a little minty aswell.

I believe his personal favourite form of cuddling would be when he's reading and you're in sit lap, curled up into his fuzzy chest. He won't mind you end up taking a nap or if you decide to pet his fur, he just likes having you with him. If you have explored the OUAW x reader tag, then you have probably seen this headcannon hundreds of times but he absolutely purs. It's not like loud pur, so it's not super noticeable. I think he would do it without thinking, kind of like when you hum when you do something. If you do that, he definitely loves it.

As for sleeping positions, I think Frost would like god ol fashioned spooning. He would be the big spoon, so that he gets to sleepily groom you. He probably also likes to rub his face on your head and neck aswell, the way cats do when they are rubbing up all on you. If you pet him while you guys are cuddling, he is most definitely going to fall asleep. BUT, I think he always tries to fall asleep after you. He would like to see you're sleeping face, at peace and without worry.

If you have trouble sleeping (me too king, me too 💔), he has solutions for you! Now. The obivous choice is just using magic to help you sleep, but there are many other options! He would love to read to you! Not only does he get to read, he gets to help you sleep! Or he could give you back or head scratches, gently running his claws over your skin (not enough to cut you, don't worry).

If you're cuddling with Gricko, you're cuddling with Hootsie too, they're a package deal too! I believe Gricko would either lay on top of you or your right up next to you. I think he would like to listen to your heartbeat, he would find it calming. He would lay on your chest, he doesn't mind if you wrap your arms around him like an oversized teddy-bear or if you sleep like a starfish. Hootsie will either lay right up next to you, on your legs or just on the end of the bed. On rare occasions she will take your spot on the bed and you and Gricko will have to lay around her because you can't wake her up! She's a growing girl, she needs all the enegery she can get!

If he came back to camp or wherever you were all staying and found you asleep, with Hootsie cuddled up in your arms, he would be ready to propose on the spot. You would wake up to both Gricko AND Hootise curled up in arms and wrapped in an oversized blanket. It wouldn't surprise me if you fell asleep alone and ended up with the two of them curled up to you, they just love you so much!!!

At night, when you're all ready for bed- if you have hair/hair long enough to, he would braid it for you so it doesn't get all messed up in your sleep. If you had a skincare routine, he would also help you with that if he could. Though, you might wanna keep Hootsie away from all the nice smelling face creams. Maybe you should try to dry your face off too, you might wake up and find the owl bear licking your face. If you don't, you won't have any face cream left and she will have a tummy ache, and you don't want that!

Torbek is definitely a cuddler. He's so touch starved, he definitely takes advantage of any touch he can get. Though, cuddling with him would probably be a little... strange, due to his height and lanky limbs. He would completely wrap himself around you, and completely envelop you in his fur. To anyone else, it would look like the bugbear was just curled up and hugging himself. But they're wrong! He has his wonderful partner with him!!! If you were laying down together, he'd have to lay on his side because... you know, the canisters on his back. Again, he probably wraps himself around you...

Unless. He likes to feel protected, so no matter his or your height, he's gonna try and curl into you. He wants to be spooned!!! You would both lay on your sides, Torbeks head either in the crook of your neck or jammed into your chest with your arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his torso. He would try to bring his legs up aswell, as much as he can atleast so he can tangle them with yours. His arms would definitely be around you, that's for sure. Kind of like the face-to-face embrace.

Though... if you decide to cuddle with Torbek, you might wanna make sure he takes a bath first. Not only is he a stinky guy, it's probably really hard to keep all the fur clean when you are living with the crew- lord knows they get into chaos every three seconds. You could help him though!!! He would probably ask you to help him anyway, not only is it an excuse to be close to you but he gets to get your hands all over him AND he gets clean!!! Three in one! He would be so soft when dry and clean... and also he might become way too fluffy- like a cat after they're blow dried.

I hope you enjoyed!!! This took me a few days to get out, my motivation has been really off and on and it's been so annoying but I finally managed to get this done so I can move onto something else. Thank fuck😭

Jealous HCS for most of the Van der Linde Gang

➤ Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Micah Bell, Dutch Van der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Josiah Trelawny, Kieran Duffy, Charles Smith, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Sadie Adler, Karen Jones, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Molly O’Shea x F!Reader

Note: you ever just pull something out of your ass and it… works?

ARTHUR MORGAN

He can’t help it sometimes. The way he handles his jealousy varies, but most of the time, he would want to bottle it up - thinking it’s a silly thing. You weren’t making him jealous, he knows that. He’s making himself, due to the severe lack of self-esteem he has.

At first, the man would watch silently, observing how happy you looked. Sure, he could use some attention, too — he thinks, but there isn’t any harm with you having fun. Although the man can’t help but frown at the sight.

He doesn’t want to confront you. If he ever decides to stop watching you like a hawk — he would stand beside you and flash a raised eyebrow. “Hey, honey.”

“Who… ya talkin’ to?”

It’s pretty obvious, even though he likes to believe it isn’t.

JOHN MARSTON

He notices your prolonged attention and time spent with someone, and he doesn’t mind — at first. He convinces himself you’ll stop soon, and you’ll be left alone. But it doesn’t.

He spends the whole day sulking, trying to do other things, but his thoughts still linger. He wishes it was him, why couldn’t it just be him? He was right there.

The man, who tries to talk, is kind of stubborn. “Think that’s enough, talkin’ to my wife.” He states simply. But there’s something deeper within his words.

He has a stupid-looking scowl on his face, whispering to himself and crossing his arms. “I don’t like how he’s lookin’ at ya.”

MICAH BELL

He won’t admit it — but under that façade of not caring, there’s a sliver of it under his thick skin. But he wouldn’t act on it, no, you could do whatever the hell you wanted.

He’s quiet, like always, but a little bit more this time, looking at you with simple glances occasionally as he sharpens his knife. The man lets out a groan of pain when he accidentally cuts himself. “Great.” And he realizes, he won’t stop thinking about it, will he?

“Who were ya talking to?” He asks. When you ask him why, he avoids the question. “No reason.”

He’ll never admit he gets jealous, however, his tense mood looms over wherever he goes.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

When Dutch is jealous, he’s jealous. A marathon of thoughts run in his mind like a train. Why would she be smiling and laughing with another man’s presence, rather than his? No, it’s unacceptable.

The man approaches you immediately. No time for dilly-dallying, and he just can’t take in the sight. “Wat’cha doin’, sweetheart?” There’s something amusing about the way he’s placed a hand on your hip, trying his best to be able to smile, at least.

Dutch who doesn’t really explain why he’s acting this way, but it’s obvious with his actions alone, taking you away for himself and his attention all on you.

HOSEA MATTHEWS

He knows and trusts you enough not to get jealous. He knows you love him as much as he does. Although, maybe, in his most vulnerable times, he does — just once.

He looks at you from afar, with an uncertain look in his face. He’s gotten a little uneasy, sipping a cup of coffee that doesn’t even taste like anything. He tries to read newspaper, but the words just look like gibberish. The man shakes his head, how silly of him. He hasn’t felt this in a while.

He waits until the end of the day, trying his best to shake the feeling off. But it doesn’t, and you notice. “Can you believe it? I actually got jealous.”

Just kiss him, and he’ll be alright.

CHARLES SMITH

He isn’t jealous, he convinces himself. But there’s something about it. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like feeling this way — after all, he knows you were merely talking withs someone else.

Someone else who isn’t him.

He shakes the thought off. You’ll later find Charles oddly pushing himself with hunting and chores, glistening in sweat and heat.

He’ll be quiet, at first, when asked — appearing calm. But his thoughts are the complete opposite. It doesn’t take a genius to realize his inner turmoil.

He’ll tell you the truth, though. He always does. He just needs a little reassurance.

JAVIER ESCUELLA

It’s hard to mask his jealousy when his face uncontrollably grimaces. He’s upset, walking around, in a bad mood. He’ll tie his hair messily. He’ll strum the strings of his guitar with irritation. He’ll twist the pegs, completely absent-minded, trying to tune it, as the string snaps directly on his nose bridge.

He curses under his breath. He gets up, holds your hand tightly, and leads you away, without explanation.

“I’m jealous.” He says, blood running down his nose. “And I’ve made it obvious, you know.” Javier looks like a wet cat.

“What was so important with him, anyway?” He asks, with a scoff. He’s trying to act tough, but he’s currently got himself buried in your arms, with a bandage on his nose.

SEAN MACGUIRE

There’s no one more dramatic than him. A day without interaction would, and does drive him crazy — if he already isn’t. A jealous Sean jokes around, teases you, tries to get your attention. This trick usually works.

But it doesn’t, today. He’s walking, following you around, watching you talk to everyone except him. Times are busy, he’s afraid, you’ll find someone else who’s better than him.

For once, he’s a little serious. Nervous, on his toes. He’s murmuring, and laughing awkwardly as he stands there. “Me? Jealous? No, no. I don’t get jealous, hah.”

“I am…”

LENNY SUMMERS

He’s had his hands tucked in his pockets for a while now, trying to understand what he was feeling, exactly. He waited around, kicking some rocks. He didn’t want to seem upset, but he was. No doubt.

Poor boy. Lenny doesn’t want to say anything, he doesn’t want to talk to you about it. He didn’t want to seem selfish, or come off in that way. But he couldn’t stop stealing glances at your figure, his thoughts may as well eating him up alive.

His actions are off — uncoordinated, distracted, thinking endlessly. He can’t help it. “Are you busy?”

His jealousy is silent, but not towards you, specifically. He’ll open up, when he’s holding your hands tenderly, but won’t reveal the thoughts of uncertainty that once skipped in his mind.

KIERAN DUFFY

It’d be hard for him to accept the fact that he’s jealous. He’ll deny himself most of the time. But he was, and he knew it. He’d been brushing Branwen’s mane for about fifteen minutes now, unable to tear his eyes away.

He’s not sure what he’s doing, exactly, when he coughs behind you and looks at whoever you were with. “Hey, ah… Who’s this?”

For now, he’ll have to push away his own needs, and he understands that. But he’ll be beside you, curling his fingers between yours, interlocking it tightly.

JOSIAH TRELAWNY

There’s enough confidence in him to reassure himself and let you be, most of the time. Although that doesn’t mean he’s not needy. That, he will be.

There’s a loneliness that creeps up his chest when he isn’t with you, when he’s away. He’ll think about you. Trelawny squints his eyes at the person in front of you, taking a bit too much of your time for his liking. As he says, it ‘pains him not being near you.’

“My dear, why don’t we go ahead now?” He coos sweetly. He’s trying his hard, and his best, to be cute. He grins when he wins, celebrating like a child and taking your hand in his.

SADIE ADLER

It’s not often she’ll get envious, while it is easy to provoke her. She’ll say a word, or two, or a few sentences — when it’s needed.

She’ll cock a brow, place a hand on her hip as she watches for a moment. Maybe she’ll wait a staggering one minute before she goes and joins the conversation. The woman smiles at you, and asks. “Hey, honey. Who’re you talking to?” And look at the man in front of you with a now neutral expression. She has no interest, whatsoever, only to you.

“Well, we really have to go now, sir. Surely ya won’t mind if I take her back, right? I know ya won’t. ‘Cause she ain’t yours.” It’s hard to prevent whatever spews out of her mouth.

KAREN JONES

“So yer gonna talk to her the whole night, that it?” You hear from behind you, Karen says to who you’re talking to. It’s not common for her to get jealous, but she’ll let you know. It’s a little scary, really, the way she can be so blunt.

Expect her to be, initially, in a not so bright mood.

Maybe she’ll even drink a bottle or two, in nights without you beside her. Jealousy’s a nasty thing, and she tries to keep in check. Her tongue is loose, though, she can’t do much about it.

MARYBETH GASKILL

She’s been peeking, looking around who you were with the past hour. The book in her hands, suddenly becomes a little harder to read. She wants to talk to you, be with you — but that apparently can’t be done.

She’ll come to you, a little shy, smiling a little. “Who’re you talking to, [Reader]?” Pretty please will you go and talk to me instead? It’s written all over her face. She doesn’t really understand why not, you see.

It’s not along before you’re eventually dragged away. Sometimes you don’t even notice. She’s sneaky like that, has a penchant for averting your attention to her. Although with good intention.

MOLLY O’SHEA

She understands, you’re a busy person. And that means you lend a lot of time to other people, and talk to them, and go with them. Your attention, love, and care has always been enough for her. But she always thinks, and thinks.

Molly notices the little things. The way your body is close, the way your elbows and hands slightly brush against some people. It upsets her to an extent where you’ll find her huddled away, just waiting for you to visit her.

“It’s nothing.” But she’ll crack the next moment and tell you all about how she’s been lonely, and how she missed you. “Do you still love me? I do.”

Tell her you do. All she needs is a little reassurance.

Hello, not sure if you still up for suggestions, but here I am.

So I just saw like 20 edits of Arthur being sassy as he is and everyone at comments are like 'can you imagine the hell Hosea and Dutch survived through with teen-Arthur being EVEN SASSYIER, then he is rn'

Some hc🙏🙏🙏 bc I love them they all are very alive and very happy

poop

teen!arthur who’s 16, got a chip on his shoulder, dirt on his boots, and absolutely no fear of mouthing off to anyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

teen!arthur who stands with his arms crossed while Dutch rambles on about "the future" and goes, "is this gonna be another speech or are you actually makin’ a point this time?"

teen!arthur who grumbles under his breath when Hosea makes him do chores, like "I ain’t a damn stable boy, you got hands, don’t you?" while Hosea just sighs like he's too old for this.

teen!arthur who Dutch calls “son” and he’s like, “yeah? well I didn’t ask for a father, now did I?” and storms off like the dramatic little cowboy he is.

teen!arthur who gets banned from poker night ‘cause he keeps calling Dutch a cheat and makes brutal commentary like, “that’s the third ‘lucky hand’ in a row. damn miracle you ain’t been struck by lightnin’ yet.”

teen!arthur who steals Hosea’s flask, drinks it, coughs like hell, and still goes, “pfft, this ain’t nothin’. tastes like piss and disappointment.”

teen!arthur who glares when Hosea calls him “boy” and goes, “keep talkin’ like that and I’ll be the one teachin’ you how to shoot.”

teen!arthur who acts all tough but falls asleep next to Dutch’s tent ‘cause the man talks big, but his presence still feels kinda like home.

teen!arthur who rolls his eyes at everything but secretly writes little notes in his journal about how Hosea patched him up when he fell, and how Dutch gave him a coat when it got cold.

teen!arthur who may sass and snap and curse like hell—but who’d ride into fire if either of them asked. Even if he’s yellin’ the whole way: “this is the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard, Dutch, and I hate you!”

I need him in me

AITA for texting my fiancé that "this isn't working"?

Steven Grant x reader.

Tags & warnings. None. Yes, this literally is just a silly little thing that I read on reddit and I thought it was so funny lol. Reader is gender neutral!

Word count. 823.

Moving in with Steven was one of the best decisions you could make in your life, right after saying 'yes' when he proposed.

The only inconvenience came at a precise time between morning and afternoon, sometimes even at night, all depending on the mood of his boss. Waiting for Steven to return from work was such a headache, boring hours and dead time as you tried to find your own job.

The upside was that you now had complete freedom to organize his apartment to your liking, and if anything needed a complete makeover, it was Steven Grant's dark and disorganized home.

You had just made a completely necessary expense, a gigantic mirror that was clearly bigger than your capabilities. Worse yet, considering that if there was something you despised with all your heart, it was the mere idea of reading an instruction manual.

When the mirror arrived, the Amazon delivery guy mocked you to your face for your difficulty in handling the box and getting it into the house.

You: Baby, the new mirror just came in!

You hit send after the message.

You: I’m going to try to put it together but I may need your help later.

And just as you said, you got to work with the phone by your side, waiting for a response from Steven.

You assumed Donna was in a terrible mood because at least two hours went by without a reply, although you were really too busy to worry about that.

For a moment, you insisted on the idea of finishing assembling the darn mirror before Steven arrived home, but that clearly didn't happen because for the two and a half hours of effort you put in, you didn't feel like you were really getting anywhere.

Plus, you had extra screws that shouldn't have been left over.

You: This isn’t working and at this point, I think I need to just give up.

You put the phone aside and lazily lay down on the carpet. Why was assembling furniture so hard? Although not as difficult as having to accept that you couldn't finish it on your own.

You stayed there not knowing how long, but you estimated it was a few hours because you heard the front door indicating that Steven was home. The smile lasted only a short while because as you straightened up to greet him, he walked past you without even looking at you, heading straight to the bedroom.

"Steven?" you questioned, slightly furrowing your brow. You stood up slowly, giving him time to exit the room.

When you finally confronted him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest. His eyes were red, completely filled with tears.

"What happened, baby?"

"Why?" he asked, his voice breaking. It shattered your heart into pieces.

"Why what, Steven?" He sniffled, and you searched his gaze when he started avoiding you.

"Why are you giving up on me?"

You nearly killed him right then and there.

"What are you talking about?"

He didn't take long to pull his phone out of his pocket and shake it a bit in front of your face; he was on the verge of sobbing.

"Y-Your messages, you were breaking up with me."

The moment Steven mentioned your text messages, you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing in his face.

Your expression almost made him cry harder. Were you making fun of him?

"Steven." Your voice came out in a playful tone as you almost burst into laughter. "I was talking about the mirror."

"Huh? What mirror?"

"The new mirror, it arrived." Your eyes were almost watering from holding back laughter. "I'm guessing that the previous messages didn't send; I was talking about not being able to assemble it on my own."

You stepped aside to let him see the mess you had made on the floor, with the mirror halfway assembled.

Steven exchanged glances between the things and you.

He looked at the things.

He looked at you.

He looked at the things.

He looked at you.

Realization hit in seconds, and you couldn't say anything more when you felt Steven's arms squeezing you against his chest. You couldn't stop laughing even though your laughter sounded odd, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Bloody fucking hell, love!" Steven cursing was definitely a special event. It only made you laugh harder. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

He lifted you off the ground, and tears were already streaming down your face. It took much longer than expected to calm down from the laughter.

Still breathless, you let him kiss your face, as well as embrace you with his strong arms that refused to let you go.

"Still, I need you to check the mirror." You took a deep breath, your cheeks already reddened, one of your hands held onto him, and the other wiped the corners of your eyes. "I think I damaged it."

RDR CHARACTERS IN WATER PARK WITH YOU | Headcanons

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Sean McGuire, Sadie Adler, Lenny Summers

Warning(s): None

Genre: Fluff

Arthur Morgan  

You practically had to drag him to the waterpark because he “don’t see the point in all this.”

But the second he sees you in your swimsuit? Yeah, suddenly he’s okay with being here.

"Well... reckon I could tolerate it for a little while." (Coughs, avoids eye contact.)

 Refuses to wear swim trunks. He’s in his normal pants, boots left somewhere safe.

Goes into the lazy river with you but doesn’t lay back. He sits upright, watching everything, grumbling about kids splashing too much.

If someone bumps into you too hard? He just stares them down. They apologize immediately.

You convince him to try a water slide. He acts annoyed, but when he gets off, he mutters, "Alright, that wasn’t bad."

Carries you bridal-style into the wave pool. Holds onto you tight so you don’t get tossed around by the waves.

Buys you food, keeps an eye on your stuff, and acts like he hates the place but secretly has fun because he’s with you.

John Marston

Acts like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He doesn’t.

"Pffft, a water slide? Easy. I ain’t scared of no little drop."

IMMEDIATELY SCREAMS the whole way down.

Lands so awkwardly in the pool that a lifeguard asks if he’s okay.

Gets water in his nose constantly. Every five minutes: "Goddamn water! This stuff’s evil!"

Tried to race you on the slides and lost because he somehow got stuck halfway down.

Trips on the wet ground at least once. You try not to laugh. You fail.

Loves holding you in the hot tub because "This is the only part of this damn place I like."

Tries to flirt but keeps coughing from accidentally inhaling water.

"So... you come here oft—COUGH—damn it!"

Dutch van der Linde

Walks into the waterpark like he owns the place.

"You see, my dear, there is a certain elegance to enjoying the finer things in life."

Buys the most expensive lounge chair and insists you sit beside him like royalty.

Talks about "the plan" to go on the biggest slide.

Regrets it immediately but refuses to admit it. Comes out looking stunned, hair all over the place.

Pretends he enjoyed it. "See? It was all part of the experience."

Keeps fixing his mustache every time he gets wet.

Absolutely refuses to go into a crowded pool. "I am a man of dignity, my dear, I do not simply wade into a sea of screaming children."

Instead, he sits in the hot tub with his arm around you, while secretly admiring you.

Javier Escuella

Loves the waterpark—this is his element.

Knows exactly what he’s doing. Jumps straight into the pool like a pro.

You’re trying to get to a lounge chair, and he’s already halfway up the biggest slide.

Tries to impress you with fancy dives. And succeeds.

Flirts with you non-stop.

"Mi amor, you look absolutely stunning."

"How about we go somewhere more private, hmm? Perhaps a quiet corner of the pool?"

Challenges you to a race on the slides. Lets you win once, "You’re fast love... but next time, I won’t go easy on you."

Will absolutely show you off in front of other people

Ends the day holding you close in the hot tub, whispering sweet things in your ear and laughing with you

Hosea Matthews

Shows up in a classy button-up and straw hat, looking like he’s about to sip whiskey on a boat instead of going down water slides.

"Ah, my dear, this seems like a fine place to relax."

Absolutely refuses to go on any slides—he’s here for the hot tub and sunbathing with you.

Gets free drinks from the bar because he charms the staff.

"Now, sweetheart, I may be older, but I still know how to have a good time." (Winks while sipping his drink.)

Loves floating with you in the lazy river, arm around you, watching the chaos unfold.

Secretly bets on who will get injured first—he always picks Sean.

The only way you get him on a slide is if you bat your eyelashes and beg. He grumbles the whole way up.

Comes out the other side grinning like a kid. "Alright, alright, maybe that was a little fun."

Charles Smith

Quietly watches over you the entire time, making sure no one messes with you.

"You want to go on the slides? Alright, I’ll go with you." (Holds your hand the whole time.)

Loves the wave pool. Swims effortlessly while you struggle, laughs softly and helps you stay afloat.

The best at water gun fights. Somehow snipes Sean in the eye from across the pool.

Prefers chilling in the hot tub with you after a long day.

If he sees someone staring at you too long, he just gives them one look. They immediately leave.

Buys you snacks, makes sure you’re drinking water, is the only responsible person here.

At the end of the day, he’s just content being with you, lying in a lounge chair, watching the sunset together.

Sadie Adler 

The first thing she does? "Let’s find the biggest, scariest slide."

Drags you to it before you can even protest.

Screams the whole way down—but it’s out of pure excitement.

"Hell yeah! Let’s go again!"

Beats everyone in a water gun fight. You’re on her team, so you automatically win.

No one dares to splash her in the pool. They know better.

Pulls you into the wave pool with her, laughing as you both get knocked around.

If you get scared of something, she’s right there: "Don’t worry, sugar, I gotcha."

Loves to mess with you, splashing you or sneaking up on you in the water.

Ends the day lying with you on a beach chair, relaxing in the sun. "A damn good day, if ya ask me."

Sean MacGuire

Immediate chaos.

Pushes people into the pool. Yes, including you.

"Oh, lass, you were takin’ too long gettin’ in!"

Jumps off things he’s not supposed to.

Steals your sunglasses and says, "Damn, I make these look good."

Annoys Arthur and John all day.

"Oi! Bet I can do a bigger splash than ya!"

Actually gets banned from one slide for being "too disruptive."

But he’s shockingly sweet to you.

Buys you snacks.

Makes sure no one messes with you.

Will carry you if you get tired. "C’mon, love, up ya go!"

Finds a quiet corner of pool where it’s just you and him, pulling you close. "Maybe I ain’t so bad after all, huh?"

Lenny Summers

Super excited to be here.

"Come on, let’s go on everything!"

Loves the slides but gets stuck behind a bunch of kids and politely waits.

Has the best time in the wave pool. Laughs every time he gets knocked over.

Splashes you playfully but makes sure he doesn’t overdo it.

Carries your stuff, makes sure you drink water, and is overall the best boyfriend here.

Wins every race on the slides. "Better luck next time, darlin'!"

At the end of the day, he just loves sitting next to you, holding your hand, and watching the sunset.

Jack Marston x Reader

Once Upon a Time in The West

Description: Orphaned at 14 and desperate to find a way to make ends meet, you stumble upon a boy struggling to build a fence at a ranch called Beecher's hope. Little did you know your unsolicited building advice would land you with a job at the ranch. You become the best of friends, only for life to tug you away. Years later, the 'mysterious' death of a certain government agent brings you back to Blackwater.

(SFW, fluff, angst, friends to lovers)

Warnings: mentions of death, alcoholism, depression.

6k words bc i didn't feel like making separate chapters. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

The wind carried the scent of freshly cut timber and sun-warmed earth as you rode through the valley aimlessly. The land stretched vast and golden before you, the rolling fields dotted with cattle and fenced enclosures. You rented a hotel room in Blackwater with the spare money you had, spent hours asking anyone and everyone if they were hiring only to be met with the same answer. You figured a stroll around the area would clear your head. Your horse trotted steadily, hooves crunching against the dry dirt road as you approached a homestead marked,

Beecher’s Hope.

You were met with the sight of a young boy around your age, hammering away at a fence post with all the grace of a drunkard. He adorned a worn striped shirt and gray vest, his hair cut short, freckles dusting his face. He looked well off, at least compared to yourself, clad in a torn up dress and muddled boots. 

You pulled your horse to a stop, watching as he drove a nail into the wood at an angle that would surely give way in a few months.

With a sigh, you swung yourself off your horse and approached him from outside the fence. You shifted, watching him struggle before one final smack of the hammer against the wood plank finally tempted you to speak,

“That fence is gonna collapse if you keeping hammering it like that.”

The boy startled, nearly dropping the hammer in his hands. He turned sharply to face you, small dark eyes squinting and thin brows furrowed in suspicion. “Who're you?”

You shrugged, “Nobody.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, ‘Nobody,’ I don’t need help.” He went back to hammering, but you remained where you stood.

A moment passed before you held out your hand expectantly, 

“Come on, just hand it over."

The boy looked at you with suspicion, before passing the hammer despite himself, “What, you some kind of carpenter?”

“No, but my father was.”

The words slipped out before you could catch them, your mind briefly clouding over at images of his tombstone. He hesitated, his earlier annoyance softening into something more uncertain.

“Your folks know you’re out here?” he asked.

“They’re dead.”

You spoke absently, focusing instead on fixing his shoddy work. The silence that followed was thick. He shifted awkwardly, staring at the dirt before mumbling, “Oh. Uhm… I’m sorry.”

You only nodded, hands deftly straightened the plank before nailing it in place

“I guess that looks better, thank you," He cleared his throat, "for helpin' me, I mean."

"No problem," you replied, giving the fence a once-over before your gaze caught something on the ground beside him 

You bent down, picking it up, “What’s this?”

The boy’s pale face turned a shade of pink, “Oh, that’s–it’s nothing.”

You suppressed a chuckle at his awkwardness, you were no charmer yourself, but you figured he hadn't much experience talking to people, seeing as there weren't any other kids around.

You flipped it over, inspecting the worn cover. “A western?”

“It’s…stupid,” he muttered, scuffing his boot against the dirt.

“I love westerns,” You mused.

He seemed to perk up a bit, “Really?” 

“Sure,” you smiled, flipping through the pages, “I used to have a ton of these back home.” 

The boy scratched the back of his neck, shifting back and forth for a moment, “You can have it, if you want.”

You grinned, tucking the book into the bag on your saddle.

“Thanks, uh-"

“Jack,” he said, “Jack Marston.”

You mounted your horse, “I’ll make sure to bring it back to you, Jack Marston.”

With not much to do, you returned a few times after that, sometimes watching Jack work on things from behind the fence, other times offering unsolicited advice.

“That beam’s not level.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“No you don’t.”

Jack would groan, mutter something under his breath, but inevitably, he’d adjust whatever you pointed out or let you take the reins altogether.

“So, you do all this stuff at home too?” he asked, stepping aside as you fixed the wheel on a broken wagon.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Don’t have one, not anymore at least.” Your parents were so neck deep in loans, the bank had taken everything away before their bodies even hit the ground.

Jack’s expression sobered slightly, but he nodded, filing that piece of information away without prying.

The next time you rode up to Beecher’s Hope, you noticed Jack standing stiffly beside an older man. He was tall, skin weathered under Blackwater's sun which only emphasized the lighter scars across his face. He had the same dark and deep set eyes as the boy next to him.

You approached, despite feeling a bit nervous under his firm stare, “Afternoon, sir.”

“Afternoon,” he smiled, tipping his hat, “I’m John, the boy’s father.”

You nodded, glancing between them. “Figured you were. You two look a lot alike.”

John snorted, giving Jack’s shoulder a rough pat, “Poor kid.”

“Pa," Jack griped.

You looked to Jack who avoided your gaze, suddenly finding the dirt beneath him very interesting. Maybe he told his father about you, maybe he was here to shoo you off like everyone else did. "My son here tells me your fairly decent at fixin' things, and I’d love to hire you if you're interested.” You were torn from your thoughts, a job? You couldn’t remember the last time anyone gave you a chance at finishing your sentence let alone give you a job offer.

“Wait-really?” You asked, looking at him like he'd grown two heads.

“Really,” John replied before he hesitated for a moment, “but I ain’t sure about our extra hand bein’ a little girl. I mean, what’re you, twelve?” "Fourteen. If you’re anything like your son, you’re gonna need a lot more than an extra hand.” You chuckled, motioning to Jack who sputtered while John barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You got some nerve, kid.”

“So, you hirin’?” You asked, clasping your hands together, trying your best to contain your excitement.

John looked at you for a moment, before relenting, “What the hell,” he extended his hand, “We’ll clear out a room for you. You can move in soon as it’s ready.”

You took his hand, “Thank you, Mr. Marston.”

You hurried toward your horse, mounting it before looking at Jack, 

“Sorry for throwin' you under the bus Jack, but hey, it worked!” You grinned.  

"Sure did," John mused, placing a playfully rough hand on Jack's shoulder.

Jack huffed, as he rolled his eyes and shrugged him off. 

As you rode off, John turned to his son, “I like her! That attitude...she's gonna give you a hard time, son.”

“I hope not,” Jack exhaled as they head back into the house.

Life at Beecher’s Hope quickly settled into a rhythm, one that felt strangely comforting despite the unfamiliarity of it all. Mornings began with the golden sun spilling over the horizon, its warmth chasing away the chill of dawn. 

You would wake early, often beating Jack to the barn. The both of you bickered over who did daily chores the best, often asking John to choose and he’d dismiss you both, muttering about how he’s getting too old for this. 

John quickly learned that, despite his initial reservations, you were more than capable.

He’d often find you working on the things he told you not to in case you'd 'mess it up', shaking his head in amusement when you proved to be just as stubborn as he was.

“Y’know, I was worried about bringin’ you on. Thought maybe you’d up and run off after seeing the workload," He remarked one afternoon as you helped him shovel the barn, "Or Uncle," he added.

You chuckled, “it’s going to take a lot more than a lazy old drunk to get me out of here, Mister.”

He chuckled, giving you a playful jab as he went to fetch some more hay. 

Mrs. Marston, on the other hand, had taken to treating you like a daughter. When you weren’t outside helping John, she fussed about you needing to sit or lie down. It was nice having a motherly figure after being on your own for so long, but being as restless as you were, you insisted on keeping busy with her too.

“You’re makin' things real easy for us.” She grinned one evening as the two of you worked on fixing up some dinner. “And Jack’s taken a real liking to you.” She added quietly as you stirred the stew.

You glanced up, cheeks warming slightly, “Oh–well he’s a good friend...real smart too.”

“Mhm,” Abigail hummed, voice tinged with an amusement you tried your best to ignore.

Jack, true to his word, really had become one of your closest companions. In the evenings, when work was done and the sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the two of you would race each other to the hillside near the house, books in hand. 

Sometimes you read aloud to one another, breaking into silly voices, other times you simply sat in comfortable silence, flipping through pages until the light outside dimmed.

“You’ ever thought about writing your own stories?” Jack asked one night as the two of you lay on your backs in the hayloft, staring at the rafters above.

You thought about it for a moment, “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Jack sat up, “We can figure one out together?”

Just then a little memory came back to you,

“My Ma' and I used to play this game where we'd come up with stories by finishing each other's sentences."

“That sounds fun," Jack said.

"Yeah," you reminisced, before scooting closer, "Okay, you start.”

Jack nodded, eyes searching around as he thought for a moment, “Once upon a time in the West…” he began.

“There were two cowboys," you continued.

"And their names were…” Jack looked at you expectantly.

You paused, before snickering, “John and Uncle.” 

The two of you’d laugh your heads off over the hilariously awful protagonist duo, mustering up a fairly compelling plot if it weren't for the odd predicaments and crude dialogue sprinkled in between.

Your fun was interrupted when Abigail's piercing voice hollered at the both of you from the porch to come inside, scolding you two for staying out so late. The both of you would obey, entering the house straight faced, bursting out laughing the second she turned away. 

On warmer nights, you would stretch out in the grass just beyond the house, gazing up at the sky. The stars stretched across the heavens, twinkling in the dark like tiny beacons. Jack would point out constellations, his voice quiet as he recounted the stories behind them.

“This one here,” he murmured, tracing the shape of Orion’s Belt with his finger, “Pa’ used to tell me it was a hunter…”

He would ramble on about the ancient stories of the constellations, his voice fading into the hum of cicadas and crickets as the world grew darker around you, slipping into the comfort of your dreams.

2 years later...

“You know, you keep brushing that horse any harder, poor thing's gonna be bald.”

Jack scoffed, not even bothering to look up from the mare he was tending to, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I ask for an expert opinion?”

You smirked, dragging a brush through your own horse’s mane. You had half a mind to flick some hay at him, but you let it slide, for now.

For a few moments, the only sound was the steady strokes of brushes and the occasional rustle from the horses shifting in their stalls. It was comfortable, the back-and-forth, the both of you never letting the other get too comfortable. As fun as it was, things just felt calmer on that night.

Jack was the first to break the lull. “You ever think about the future, like ten years from now?”

You were caught off guard at the suddenness of the question but answered nonetheless, “I don’t even know what’s gonna happen ten days from now.”

He was quiet for a moment, running a hand down the mare’s neck as he glanced at you.

“I do,” he admitted. “I think about it a lot. See myself bein’ a lawyer.”

You blinked. Of all the things you expected him to say; writer, rancher, bounty hunter...a lawyer wasn’t one of them.

“A lawyer?”

“Why not," he shrugged, "Ma' always told me I'd be one cause I like reading and arguing,” he added, nudging you with his shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess that does makes sense," You considered.

"With all that money, I could take care of Ma and Pa. I can buy you a little work shack," he pondered, "Have our own carpenter on the ranch.” He chuckled.

You let out a small breath at his words, he was so optimistic, sometimes it bordered on naive, but the sentiment warmed your heart nonetheless.

A small laugh left you before you could stop it, "I'll be following in Uncle's footsteps, free loadin' off of y'all."

Jack looked at you pointedly and you snickered, “I’m only kiddin'.”

"You better be," Jack huffed, but there was no real heat behind the words.

You spoke after another moment of silence, “Never really thought about all that though. Guess I figured the future wasn’t really mine to think about.”

Jack stilled, “You don’t have to think that way. You’re gonna be here, with me.”

It was quick, unfiltered, and the second he realized what he’d just said, a flush crept up his neck. He turned away, suddenly very invested in adjusting the saddle on the mare.

If there was one thing both you and Jack feared, it was being alone, abandoned. He guessed that's what made him want to help you all those years ago,

“Really?” You asked.

“I’m not just gonna leave you.” he muttered with a shrug.

You felt a flush of your own creep up on your face, it was nice having someone who cared about you the way Jack did, “Thanks."

That was all you needed to say.

The both of you startled when you heard John clear his throat from behind you both.

Jack jumped so fast he nearly knocked over the bucket beside him. You turned, and there he was, leaning against the barn door, something somber in his eyes.

“Didn't mean to startle you two, but I need to talk to you,” John said as he approached.

You exchanged a glance with Jack before setting your brush aside, “What’s goin’ on?”

John sighed, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a folded letter, turning it over in his hands before finally looking at you, “Got a letter from a woman who claims to be your aunt. Says she’s been lookin’ for you.”

Your stomach twisted. 

“She lives near Strawberry now. Found out what happened to your folks and she wants to take you in.” He spoke carefully, as if not wanting to overwhelm you, “Plan on riding to her cabin and seeing if she’s safe, you know, right in the head and all.” He added, attempting to make you smile but your mind was elsewhere.

Your world, the one that had just started feeling stable, tilted all over again. Sure, you loved your aunt, she was kind to you growing up, but she was always moving around, 'free spirited' as your mother liked to put it. You sighed shakily, dreading the thought of having to start over again.

John looked at you with something almost apologetic in his eyes, before he gently wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Let's talk some more in the house.”

You nodded, feeling Jack’s gaze on you, but were unable to meet it just yet. The future, once distant and uncertain, was suddenly pressing down on you, demanding yet another change you weren’t sure you were ready to make.

The morning air was crisp as you stood near the packed wagon. John was finishing up putting the last of your things in the back while Abigail, Uncle, and Jack gathered nearby to see you off.

You had come to terms with leaving. The Marston's had given you a home when you needed it most, and you would always be grateful, but you were eager to be with the last of your family. 

Still, the thought of leaving Jack stung the most. He had been your first real friend, and now, you weren’t sure when you’d see him again.

“Aw, come here,” Abigail murmured, pulling you out of your thoughts and into a tight embrace.

“Won’t have anyone to complain to about these boys anymore,” She chuckled as she pulled away, wiping the corners of her glistening eyes.

Uncle tutted, “You’ll do that with the girl gone anyway!"

Abigail smacked the old man on the shoulder as you and Jack shared a humorous look. As useless and odd as he was, you were going to miss Uncle. "Wagon's all packed," John grunted, easing himself up the steps to hold onto the reigns.

You nodded, about to leave when Jack stepped forward, “Here! I almost forgot,” he said.

You looked down to see him holding out a small, leather-bound journal, “For the trip. Don’t open it ‘til you get there.”

“Alright,” you took it carefully, before lightly tapping his chest with the book, “But you better write to me.”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Only if you promise to try and visit.”

You nodded, “I promise.”

With one last glance at them all, Abigail’s sad smile, Uncle’s lazy wave, and Jack’s uncertain look, you climbed into the wagon.

The journey to North was fairly quiet. Mr. Marston wasn’t much for conversation, but his presence was always calming. 

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noticing you were quieter than usual, before speaking up, “You know, I know a thing or two about startin’ over. Hell, I’ve lived more lives than I can keep count of.”

He tutted, head tilting as if replaying the past few years over in his mind, "Took a while, but I found my place," he mused, before looking over at where you sat, "You will too, I know it."

“I hope so,” you said, looking at the trees whirring by.

When you finally arrived at your aunt’s house, she was already outside waiting, arms open and eyes shining with unshed tears.

After greeting her and brushing off her endless praise, John helped you unload, carrying your trunk inside.

When it came time for him to leave, you were unsure of how to convey all that was on your mind. You were going to miss him, his family, the ranch. You were grateful, scared, uncertain.

You opted for throwing your arms around his middle, hugging him tightly, not ready to let go just yet.

He stiffened for only a second before returning the embrace, patting your back gently as he sensed you're anxiety,

“Gonna be just fine, kid.” He murmured.

Although you felt a lump form in your throat, your muscles relaxed as you nodded. Mr. Marston knew what it was like to be in your shoes, always had a way of reminding you it wasn’t the end of the world. You were going to miss that.

After you pulled away, he tapped the brim of your hat with a deft hand, “You stay out of trouble now, Miss.”

You fixed your now crooked hat, “You too, Mr. Marston.”

He gave you a small salute before heading off, leaving you standing at the doorway of your new home before your aunt coaxed you to come inside and eat.

After settling in later that night, you finally pulled out that journal Jack had given you. Flipping it open, you grinned at the first few words on the first page, 

‘Once upon a time in the west there were two cowboys named John and Uncle…’

Followed by endless pages full of your shared stories, some silly, some a little more serious. Some had little sketches in the margins, others had notes about how he’d come up with an idea, all carefully written in Jack’s handwriting.

You ran your fingers over the ink, before plopping down on your bed to read the journal in it's entirety.

3 years later...

The night air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth as you sat on the porch beside your aunt, the distant rustling of trees filling the silence between you. 

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she noted, sipping from her tin cup. “Got something on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing, glancing down at the warm tea cupped between your hands. “Just thinkin' about how beautiful this place is,” you admitted. “It’s peaceful. But-”

“But you still miss Blackwater,” she finished knowingly.

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips, “Yeah. It was desolate, sure, but it had its own charm y’know?”

Your aunt hummed in understanding, setting her cup down on the railing.

“I read something in the paper the other day,” she began, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Some government agent from Blackwater was shot dead. A Ross, I believe?”

Your breath caught in your throat and you turned sharply to your aunt, “What?”

She yawned, seemingly unaware of your inner turmoil, “Edgar Ross, I think it was? Paper said he was gunned down.”

Jack.

Your mind reeled back to the long-forgotten letters, the last few that you had sent without a reply. A quiet void had replaced his once-constant updates on Uncle's shenanigans, new books he’d read, and notes informing you that ‘Ma’ and Pa’ say Hi.’ 

You thought back to your aunt breaking the news to you, about Mr. and Mrs. Marston's death. An unbearable grief you hadn’t felt in the years since your parents' death had settled in your chest the day you learned they were really gone.

Jack had always admired the heroes in those dime novels, the men who avenged their fathers with unwavering conviction. If Jack had truly done this, if he had killed Ross, what did that mean for him now?

You swallowed thickly, trying to steady your voice, 

“Do you know anything else?” 

“Not much. They found his body near some riverbank.” She leaned back into her chair with a soft sigh,

“Whoever did it, I can’t say I blame ‘em."

You stared at her, startled. She glanced at you with a small, knowing smile,

"What goes around comes around, right?" She chuckled, taking another sip of her tea.

You looked away, your throat tightening as you turned your gaze back to the endless stretch of stars above.

A few weeks later your aunt had gone on a trip, so you decided to ride out to Blackwater while she was gone. You wanted to find out about Jack’s whereabouts from some of the locals first, not wanting to ride all the way to Beecher's Hope only to find it empty. After asking around and getting no clear answer, you decided to check the saloon though you hadn’t much hope he was going to be there. 

Laughter and drunken murmurs filled the air, the clatter of glasses punctuating the atmosphere. You weaved through the crowd, before sitting down at a table and scanning faces for what seemed like hours.

You got up and sighed in defeat. Then, just as you were about to turn around and leave, someone barreled into you. You flinched as a cold splash of liquor soaked into your coat sleeve.

“Watch it, lady!” A voice droned.

You bristled, looking up, “Excuse me?”

The man, taller, rough around the edges, looked down at you, eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. You could see the freckles dusting his nose, small beard covering his jaw. That voice is familiar, and his hat, isn’t that Mr. Marston’s? You thought.

His lips quirked up as he leaned in closer, breath reeking of liquor, "You know, look just like a girl I used to know!" he drawled over the saloons noise, words slurring together slightly.

You rolled your eyes, taking off your stained coat, "I bet I do."

"Your doin’ terrible things to my hormones, miss-Woah!"

He was cut off when you grabbed his wrist, dragging him towards the exit. You needed to get this boy in his right mind. Quickly, before any more god awful pick-up lines graced your ears.

"Someone's eager," He slurred, tripping over his feet.

“Eager to smack you," you muttered, pushing past a few curious onlookers, "We’re talkin’ outside.”

He staggered as you pulled him through the swinging saloon doors, the cool night air slapping you both in the face. 

Before he could get another word in, you took the hat off his head and gripped the long hair at the nape of his neck, before dipping his head into a bucket of water just outside the saloon doors. He sputtered, gasping for his breathe as you pulled him back up for a breather, "The hell! What’s wrong with you, Lady?!"

"It's not Lady!" you groan. He winced, trying to dodge your hand as you smacked his shoulder.

"It's me," you said, sharply gesturing to your face.

His breath hitched, Adam’s apple bobbing as recognition dawned on him, "I-you..." he trailed off.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you took his state in fully, eyes scanning him disapprovingly. You barely recognized him. His once-boyish face was hardened, sharper, with stubble covering his jaw and upper lip. His hair was longer, messier, his clothes wrinkled and worn like he hadn’t cared for them in weeks. And his eyes were dark and tired, swimming in hollowness.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, tone suddenly laced with annoyance.

“I could ask you the same,” you shot back. “I wrote to you! Why didn’t you answer me?”

Jack exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if the weight of your presence was too much, “Jesus,” he muttered, “I don’t know…I just—I didn’t think you’d—” He groaned, rubbing his soaked face as if still trying to catch up.

You held back, maybe you were being a bit harsh. After all, he was clearly unwell, and here you were berating him, “I'm—sorry for yelling,"

You took notice of the dark purple circles under his eyes, as he blinked rapidly to escape his haze.

"Let's just get you home, alright?"

His shoulders tensed.

It was like a switch flipped. Whatever confusion or vulnerability had cracked through, vanished in an instant.

His expression hardened, and he took a deliberate step back, shaking his head. “No. No, I don’t need this.”

“Need what?”

“This,” he snapped, gesturing wildly between you. “You showin’ up here, lookin’ at me like that, like you got some kinda right to fix me.”

Your brows furrowed. “I never said—”

Jack scoffed, jaw clenched. “I didn’t ask you to come here, alright? I don’t need your pity or advice—just leave me alone!”

You swallowed, before shaking your head. “Come on, you don’t mean that.”

Jack laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “Yeah? Maybe I do.”

He turned, already stepping away. “Just—Go home, alright?”

He was halfway up the steps to the saloon, eager to disappear back into the dimly lit haze of liquor and forget this ever happened.

For a moment you thought to hell with it all, unable to see past the angry shell of a boy you used to know. But then you remembered how bitter you were when you lost everything, how Jack and his family seemingly put things back together.

And now, that same boy who’d ramble about the constellations till you fell asleep, the one who’d make you laugh over silly stories, and stammer over his words when he got nervous, had no one left.

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them,

“I love you, you fool!”

Jack froze.

“I don’t care how much you don’t wanna see me,” you added quietly.

He turned to face you, expression unreadable.

You looked away, blinking back tears, “You said you weren’t gonna leave me, so I’m not gonna leave you either.”

Jack shifted back and forth, as if thinking of what to do now, before exhaling sharply as he walked past you without another word, heading toward the stables instead. You watched him go dejectedly, you knew you shouldn't have come here.

Suddenly, he turned around like he was half expecting you to follow him, faltering when he was met with the sight of you standing in the same spot.

“I know my backside’s real purdy, but maybe you can get a better look at if you actually follow me.” He said, though his tone was gentler than it was moments ago as he rested his hands on his hips.

You perked up a bit, realizing he wasn’t just sending you away, before shaking your head in amusement at his words.

“Where we going?” You asked quietly as the two of you mounted your horses.

“Home.” He grumbled, shooting you a half hearted glare.

“If you weren’t so drunk, I’d smack that attitude right out of you.” You huffed, spurring your horse on.

“I guess I’ll just stay drunk then!” he hollered from behind you.

In an odd way, your little verbal sparring match made things feel a little more like old times.

Beecher’s Hope was a graveyard of memories.

The fences had rotted, weeds tangled through the soil where crops used to be, and the barn doors hung open, swaying in the wind. It was silent now, save for the distant hoot of an owl and the occasional rustling of the trees. It was like ranch had died with Uncle and Mr. and Mrs. Marston. 

"Happy now?" He asked, motioning to the ranch.

“Jolly,” you muttered under your breath. 

You walked the barn as Jack released a heavy sigh, trailing behind you silently as you climbed up the barn ladder to the hayloft. 

He sat with his back against the wall, knees bent. For a while, the two of you just listened to the wind howl through the cracks in the barn walls.

Then you broke the silence.

“I heard about Ross.”

Jack’s jaw tensed, “Don't know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You raised an eyebrow, noticing the familiar way his dark eyes flitted around whenever he was fibbing, “You’re a terrible liar.”

His shoulders slumped, “Ain’t no way they’ll trace it back to me. I made sure.”

You studied him for a moment before sighing, “Did I ever tell you my parents were killed by a couple of thieves,” you asked. Jack turned to you then, looking fully sober for the first time that night,

“God, I just–I wanted them dead. Thought it’d make things right. But when I saw them hang, all I felt was empty and even angrier than before," you sighed, feeling your chest ache at the memory.

You tapped your boot with his, "But then I met you.”

Jack flushed a little under the brim of his hat, swallowing thickly as he kept his gaze down at his hands.

“I guess revenge isn't as glorious as those storybook heroes make it,” You pondered as you looked out the barn window.

Jacks voice was barely above a whisper, “Ma used to always say something like that that to Pa.”

He huffed, reminiscing her words, repeating them aloud, “Stop tryna be some damn storybook hero.” 

You chuckled, remembering her piercing voice and John's sarcasm.

“You really are like Mr. Marston.”

Jack scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile there, the one that made his eyes spark a bit, hidden beneath all that bitterness.

You grinned as memories of the two of them standing in front of you years ago flooded back, “I thought you’d stay scrawny forever, but now you’re bigger than he was. What the hell do they put in the beer at that saloon?”

Jack groaned, suppressing the grin tugging at his lips as he took off his hat and ruffled his hair tiredly, “I don't know, but it's got a hell of a hold on me."

You sat up a little, “You won't even have time think about that saloon anymore."

Jack furrowed his brows, looking at you in confusion. "We're starting work on this place tomorrow, so I'm hoping you finally learned how to build,” You clarify, giving him a pointed look.

Jack huffed, “How couldn’t I? With you annoyin' me about it all the ti—.”

You quickly gripped the hat sitting on his lap and began whacking him with it as he dodged you, apologizing through breathy chuckles—you had missed that sound.

You finally relented as the two of you let out the last of your giggles, “That was for all those nasty pick up lines at the bar.”

“Sorry,” Jack muttered quietly, face flushing a little.

“I mean, seriously, where the hell’d you learn all that?” You tutted.

“Uncle,” Jack grumbled, “I only remember all the gross stuff he taught me when I’m out of it.”

“I can tell,” you chuckled softly.

He yawned, running a hand down his face.

“You wanna head to the house?” you ask, ready to get up, but he grabbed your arm lightly to stop you. 

“No, I'm good. I mean—I don’t sleep too well anyways.” He admitted, avoiding your gaze. You felt a little jab of sympathy go through your chest at his confession.

Without a word, you reached into your bag and pulled out a book, flipping to the first page,

“Let’s read,” you murmured, laying down to plop your head on a small bail of hay, “Like we used to.”

Jack hesitated, still stiff.

You turned to the first page before looking at him expectantly, “You're just going to sit there and stare?"

With a reluctant sigh, he laid back beside you, shifting uncomfortably as he kept a careful distance. But as you began reading, he felt himself relax.

The words blurred together, your voice a gentle hum in the quiet night. He fought it at first, but sleep crept up on him, tugging his eyelids lower and lower until his head slumped against your shoulder.

By the time you reached the end of the first chapter, Jack had finally let go. His breath evened out, the tension in his body easing as exhaustion won out. 

You glanced down at him, his breath steady, scowl fading away as the faintest trace of peace settled over his face. He looked better like this, closer to the boy you used to know.

You yawned, closing your eyes and falling into a deep sleep of your own.

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the barn, casting long streaks of gold over the hay-strewn floor. Jack stirred sluggishly, his body heavy with sleep, head pounding and mind foggy from exhaustion.

For a moment, he almost believed it had all been a dream. That you'd never come back and just about poured your heart out to him, that he’d just drank too much and fantasized the whole damn thing.

But then he felt it, a warm weight on his chest.

His eyes cracked open, and there you were, head resting right over his heart.

Jack stilled, barely breathing. Then he sighed, trying to calm the hammering of his heart under your head.

After a moment, he craned his head a little to look down at you, observing in detail now that the cloudiness of the alcohol had worn off.

You’d grown, filled out your features beautifully, but in so many ways, you were still the same girl he was familiar with. Stubborn and too damn persistent for your own good.

Jack groaned as memories of the night before came flooding back. He had been such a drunken asshole back at the saloon and yet, you came back and…loved him.

He cursed himself for not saying it back right then and there. Though he couldn't understand why a girl like you saw anything in him, he knew he felt the same way.

I’ll just have to find the right moment to say it back. He thought to himself.

————

Four Weeks Later…

Jack hadn’t touched a bottle in weeks. It wasn’t easy, particularly in the first few days. When he wasn't sluggishly moving around, he was abrasive. One day he snapped out of nowhere at the slightest disagreement, only to be overwhelmed by guilt right after seeing you wince slightly before walking off to tend the animals.

You knew it was probably a mixture of the withdrawals and grief, so you'd distance yourself on those days, but it hurt nonetheless. Jack never got that way in the past, sure you bickered, but he always made sure to not cross the line or raise his voice.

He made it up to you by rising early and getting a head start on his share of work so he could finish yours by noon. He even walked to a nearby lake where a few Lillies grew, plucking a few and leaving them on the table for you. He’d shrug, saying he just so happened to 'have the extra time' when you'd thank him.

Now, there was hardly any time to sit and dwell on the past. His body was sore in ways he hadn’t felt in years, but his mind felt clearer than it had in a long time and the ranch was beginning to look as lively as it did before. He had even gone back to reading, something he’d neglected in his haze of grief.

He sat on the porch, squinting as he read his book under afternoon sun. It was a romance, not something he normally reached for, but he liked it.

Maybe it was because protagonists reminded him of the two of you. Two childhood friends who drifted apart only to find each other again years later. There was something comforting about it, something familiar.

“Come on, Jack! These fences ain’t gonna fix themselves.”

Jack set the book aside, “You ever think maybe they should? Damn things break every other week.”

You shot him a look. “And whose fault is that?”

Jacked rolled his eyes but followed you out anyway.

You worked side by side, driving nails into wood, replacing broken beams.

You were giving him grief about a crooked post when Jack paused, leaning against it with an amused smile, "I was going to say this reminds me of when we met, but I don't remember you being this insufferable.” “That's funny because you're just as useless as I remember," You retorted, taking the hammer from him.

Jack took notice to the way you bit the inside of your lip to hide a grin. He definitely noticed the way his heart lurched when your hand accidentally brushed against his, the way the air between you felt heavier than it used to.

By the time you finished, it was growing dark. Jack leaned against the post, exhaling slowly. You did the same, standing just close enough for your shoulders to touch. As he watched the sun dipping below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with reds and golds, casting the endless fields in front of him in a similar hue, he thought to what his father told him years ago when he'd first moved here. "There's a lot of ugly in this world. But there sure as hell is a lot of beauty! You'll see it better when you get older. It's tough at your age. Just land and light. But to me it's...it's life." It's life.

For the first time, he was beginning to understand what that meant. He was torn from his thoughts when you broke the silence,

"Saw you reading a book earlier, what's it about?"

He huffed, “A romance, if you can believe that.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the thought of his broody self reading a romance.

"Well do you wanna know or not?" Jack asked exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry, continue—please," you said, regaining your composure. He rolled his eyes, gaze fixed on the sunset. “It’s about these two childhood friends. Went their separate ways, and ended up finding each other again.”

You glanced at him, teasing smile faltering just a little, “Oh, that actually sounds nice.”

“It is," He nodded, swallowing thickly.

“I—I think I like it because…well,” He hesitated, tapping his fingers nervously against the wooden beam behind him, “It reminds me of us. The way they can’t help but come back to each other.”

Your breath caught when Jack pushed himself off the post to face you fully. He opened his mouth, then closed it again with a shake of his head. He had so much to say, but he didn’t know where to start.

Instead, he leaned down and closed the space between you.

You barely had time to think before his lips landed on yours, soft and warm and real. You tensed for half a second, hands stilling mid air. But then you melted, reaching your arms around his shoulders and holding on like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

When you finally pulled apart, you avoided his gaze as you tried to calm the red hot blood rushing to your face.

“I love you.” He blurted out, eyes searching for yours.

That didn’t help your predicament.

“Took you long enough,” You huffed, feeling your heart beat out of your chest.

“I know,” He mumbled under his breath, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know how to—“ "Don't be, I love you too.” You said, placing a gentle peck on his cheek, "I’m just messing with you."

He nodded, shoulders untensing as he leaned back on the post and lightly kicked at the dirt under his boots.

That made you smile, he always did that when he was flustered.

After a few moments, the two of you decided it was time to warm up inside the cabin, maybe eat some dinner. As he watched you enter the house, still a bit jittery from the kiss, he was hit with a familiar feeling, one warmed his heart differently.

After his parents died, the cabin was just a house, an empty void. With you it felt warm, lively, comforting. It felt like home. Jack chuckled softly, wondering if that was how his father felt seeing his mother enter the same house he built during their time apart.

He stopped in his tracks as you disappeared inside the kitchen, noticing something peeking out of your bag on the couch near the fireplace.

Jack hesitated, before plopping down on the couch and gently pulling it free, his fingers running over the worn cover. He flipped it open, scanning the familiar ink on the first few pages by the light of the hearth.

A quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle left him, his lips curling into a small, rare smile.

There it was,

'Once upon a time in the West...'

thank u for reading `(*>﹏<*)′ i got a lot of Jack requests, so i hope this fic did them justice. Like this post for + honor (≧∀≦) Lmk what u think by leaving notes, I love reading them!

Arthur Morgan x Reader (fluff)

A Sip of Mayhem

Description: Arthur captures a bounty who'd drug his customers by offering them “juice” just to rob them blind. He confiscated a bottle to show the sheriff, but forgot it in his satchel, deciding to deal with it the next day. That night, when he witnesses your stumbling figure practically catcall him from across camp and found the bottle on his desk, empty, he faces a lot of trouble getting you to settle down. ⚠️Warnings: reader is basically drunk, tries to jump into a stream, mentions of religious upbringing, being orphaned. this aint dark, just stupid and funny `(*>﹏<*)′

The small jeweled bottle of strange liquid sat on Arthurs desk, glowing softly under the moonlight. He’d meant to take it to the sheriff first thing in the morning after catching a bounty–a man who’d drug his customers and rob them blind, but after the long ride back to camp, his legs had screamed at him to sit down for a while, and he’d forgotten all about it.

Now, with the party in full swing celebrating Sean’s return to Horseshoe overlook, the bottle was the last thing on his mind. Laughter and the sound of a badly played fiddle filled the air as Sean drunkenly exaggerated some story during his time as a captive, waving a bottle of whiskey around like it was a prop in a stage play.

Arthur wasn’t much for parties, so he sat back in his chair, rolling a cigarette and letting the chaos unfold. He was half expecting you to join him, usually not one to enjoy loud gatherings or drinking yourself. He remembered you told him that your folks were real religious-like prior to their passing, before you had stumbled upon the gang of outlaws as a child. He enjoyed those quiet talks with you. He chuckled a little, outlawing was one thing, but drinking was where you crossed the line. That was until he heard your voice cut through the camp, slurred and way too loud.

“Well! aren’tchu a fiiine cowboy,” you practically purred from across camp.

Arthur’s head snapped up.

You stood there, dressed in your casual attire, a comfortable blouse and a long skirt. But you were unusually swaying like the wind was about to knock you over, a loopy grin plastered on your face. Your normally calm nature was nowhere to be found, gone, vanished, replaced by whatever nonsense had taken hold of you. 

You pointed at him dramatically, eyes nearly crossing,

“Arthur Morgannn,” you drawled, dragging out his name like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “You got nice-“ you hiccuped, clutching your chest for a moment, “nice hands, made for holdin’ a lady, you know that?” You slurred as you stumbled toward him. 

Arthur’s cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth as his face reddened under the brim of his hat. “What the hell-”

Dutch, who had been dancing nearby with Molly, chuckled, “Now that ain’t normal.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. It was then he noticed you hiccup again, looking oddly glassy-eyed. It didn’t take a genius to realize something was wrong. Then, like a switch flipping in his brain, he remembered.

The bottle.

It was on his desk, but opened, empty.

“Aw, hell,” Arthur groaned. He shot up from his chair and started toward you. “You didn’t—tell me you didn’t drink somethin’ off my desk.”

You hiccuped again and winced like he’d just accused you of murder, “Well..I did!” 

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and you spoke again, “it was a pretty lookin juice, Arthur! You’ gonna tell me juice is a crime now?-“

“Oh it weren’t no juice, woman!” Arthur snapped. 

“Well, what was in it?” Hosea, who had heard the ordeal nearby, appeared at his side, eyeing you with a suspicious yet concerned look. 

“It was a drug from a bounty! One I meant to turn into the sheriffs…” he trailed off, feeling foolish for the slip up.  

Hosea let out a long-suffering sigh beside him. “Great. She can’t even handle a cup of coffee without buzzing, what the hell’s a spiked drink gonna do to her?” 

“I don’t know,” Arthur muttered, reaching for you, but you took a dramatic step back, swaying. 

“Noooo, no, no,” you wagged your finger at him, “I don’t need your help.”

Arthur groaned before holding you by the shoulders and looking into your dilated pupils “Now, darlin’,” 

“Yeah?” Your gaze drifts here and there, seeing the world bend him in a funny way, before his finger snaps in front of you,

“You’re drunk off your ass, so you gotta let me and Hosea sit you down and-”

“Drunk?!” You gasped again, stumbling back from his hold. “I am not!”

You absolutely were.

“I do not-I don’t drink!”  You shout.

Then, before they could grab you, you turned tail and bolted.

Your brain was working at half-speed. Or maybe it was working at double speed. Who knew? Who cared?

All you knew was that Arthur was chasing you, and that was hilarious.

“You ain’t gonna catch me!” you whooped, dodging around the campfire, startling Uncle so bad he nearly fell off his log, 

“The hell’s wrong with you?” you heard the old man yelp, “knockin me round knowin’ i got lumbago-”

Arthur swore behind you. “Damn it— get back here girl!”

You tire out eventually, surrendering for a bit, “Fine! Fine I’ll sit down” you gasp catching your breath. 

“You better,” Arthur warned.

You plop down near Sean and Karen, looking back at Arthur who stands there half expecting you to bolt off again. 

Sean was running his mouth about something-something dramatic, no doubt. His accent was thick, his hands flying everywhere, and for some reason, that was hilarious too!

You scoot closer beside him,

“Ah, yes,” you said in a mock Irish accent, your voice dropping to a ridiculous brogue, “and then I took on ten men at once with only me fists and me Macguire bullocks!”

Sean blinked at you. “What the-”

“And I won the day for you lady!” you continued, grinning, wagging a finger in Karen’s face.

Sean’s face scrunched up. “Are you mockin’ me, lass?”

You gasped, “Mocking? I’d never!”

Sean turned to Karen, who was already laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “Is that what I sound like?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“Exactly,” she wheezed.

Arthur called out for you, but you were already on the move again, stumbling toward where Abigail, Tilly, and Mary-beth sat at a bed roll a few feet away.

You plopped yourself down between Mary-Beth and Tilly, sighing deeply, 

“Ladies,” you slurred, looking utterly exhausted.

They turned to you, amused.

Abigail chuckled seeing the obvious drunken flush in your face. “Well, if it ain’t our resident good girl. Thought you didn’t drink?”

“I don’t,” you huffed. “I was tricked. Hoodwinked.” You sighed dramatically, placing a hand on Mary-Beth’s knee before laying down entirely and resting your buzzing head in her lap.

“And now there’s some…admittedly, handsome fella, chasin’ me!” You whine with furrowed brows, stuffing your face into Mary-Beth’s torso.

Mary-Beth gasped, playing along. “Handsome fella? Who?”

You picked your head up a little too quickly, feeling the world spin a little. 

You looked around wildly, seeing Arthur linger a few feet away before whispering “Arthur.” 

The women exchanged a look before breaking into exaggerated gasps.

“No!” Tilly gasped, “that ruthless outlaw out to get you?” 

You nodded solemnly, “Yes ma'am.”

Abigail shot a look over your shoulder, and you turned, following her gaze, right to Arthur, who still stood with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes but, notably, fighting back a blush.

You pointed at him. “See? There he is.”

Mary Beth leaned in conspiratorially. “What’s he gonna do when he catches you?”

You considered it for a moment before your gaze caught the pistol tucked into Arthurs holster. Gasping, you felt a wave of fear overcome you, “Probably shoot me!”

“I wish,” Arthur scoffed, before leaning down to your level “Alright, time to go.”

He grabbed your arm gently, but you yelped and recoiled, flinging yourself back into Mary-Beth’s arms, hiding your face as if the boogie man was right there in front of you

 “See? He’s grabbin’ me!”

Arthur sighed, ripping you away from the girls and holding you up, “Pardon me ladies, just-gotta get this one to rest.”

But you were already wriggling out of his grasp. 

Nope. No way. You weren’t about to let him take you away like some unruly sack of potatoes. 

You were free. You were fast. You were-

“Gonna jump in a river!” you declared proudly, running full speed away from the camp and toward the small stream near camp.

“The hell you are!” Arthur hollered running after you, grabbing the attention of John who was keeping watch of camp. 

“The hell's wrong with her?” He asked Arthur, gesturing to you running off. 

“Long story,” Arthur groaned, before motioning John to help him out. 

You giggled maniacally as you turned back to see two fuzzy figures chase after you, “Try ‘n’ stop me you demons!”

“How the hell is she faster drunk?” John yelled through a strained breath.  

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied, darting through the foliage leading up to the river.  

Finally you reached it, a stream but it wasn’t just any stream, it was a darker blue with speckled stars and clouds stirring and swirling below it.

A perfect portal to jump through and explore, maybe it was the gates to heaven itself! 

You giggled, 

Who would’ve thought paradise was out here in the middle of nowhere? Were your parents there? 

You wondered if they were looking at a similar stream from the other side, waiting for you. 

Maybe they’d lecture you for accidentally drinking…and robbing…and killing…and stealing.

Well, there’s only one way to find out-

Right before you could fling yourself into the water, a pair of firm arms caught you from behind. The world really did turn upside down as Arthur lifted you right off your feet and tossed you over a shoulder.

“Agh! Put me down!” You flail wildly.

“This is for your own good” Arthur drawled, adjusting you like you weighed nothing.

John scoffed, flicking your forehead as he trailed behind, “Now who gave you a drink?” he asked incredulously. 

“Arthur.” 

The two escorted you back toward camp, your limbs flailing the whole way, mouth conjuring up the most unique insults directed at the two as you could. 

When you tried to grab John’s rifle, he leaned away quickly, “You better watch your drunk self.” 

“I ain’t drunk,” you insisted. “I’m just—” 

A hiccup cut you off and Arthur finally set you down. You staggered violently, grasping onto Arthur’s vest as John held out his hands in case you fell. 

Hosea met the three of you, arms crossed, looking more amused than anything. 

“Well?” he asked.

Arthur scoffed, motioning to you, “Crazy girl was about to drown herself.”

Hosea smirked. “So, what’s the plan? Tie her up like a runaway calf?”

“I ain’t a calf!” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Nah. Just gotta wait it out, get her to bed I guess.”

Hosea nodded and John huffed,

 “Good luck with that.” 

“Now,” Arthur turned to you and shook his head with a smirk, “don’t go drinking any more of my…” 

He paused, not wanting you to go off on a rampage about not having drunk alcohol, “Juice no’ more, you hear me woman?” 

You sulk a little and mutter, “Fine.” 

“Good, you don’t need any more of that,” John rolled his eyes as he walked off, “already a damn smart mouth when you’re sober.” 

“Come on now y/n, let’s get some rest, alright?” Hosea said, gently guiding you. 

“So, the ‘handsome cowboy’ did save her?” Dutch chuckled from where he stood outside his tent, smoking a cigar as he watched Hosea coax you into your tent. 

Arthur rolled his eyes, but as he turned away, he flushed a little as he recalled your drunk flirting. 

As much as he hated to admit it, he was amused by your flirtatious slip ups. 

But then his mind went back to you almost lunging into the stream.  

He is never going bounty hunting again.

❛ common interest ❜

note: hope you enjoy anon 💖 ty for requesting!

i really want to write something about charles next bc that man is my legal husband and baby daddy 💞

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"Oh look," Tilly announces, drawing the attention of the other two women. "Here she comes, back into camp."

Karen follows Tilly's gaze and rolls her eyes in distaste. "The Ice Queen herself."

Mary-Beth, who'd had her head buried in a book - sneaking in a few minutes of reading when Grimshaw was off doing something else instead of barking orders at them - looked up with a frown. "That ain't right, Karen. She's just not overly talkative, that's all."

"'Not overly talkative'?" echoes Karen in disbelief. "I don't think I even heard her speak once!"

"Maybe she can't," Mary-Beth suggests empathetically.

Tilly shakes her head, disagreeing. "I seen her over with the horses a few times. Heard her speaking to them."

Karen snorts. "So she can talk to horses but not people? What a freak."

"Karen!" Mary-Beth scolds, glaring disapprovingly at the other woman.

"What? It ain't normal, is all I'm sayin'. Preferring the company of damn horses to people. It ain't right."

Unbeknownst to the three women, chatting away about you, there was another set of ears nearby taking it all in.

Kieran Duffy had been tied to this tree for the better part of a goddamn week. It sure felt longer, with the way his muscles burned from being forced to stay standing on account of the ropes around him and the way his empty stomach ached with a gnawing hunger so consuming that even the dirt was beginning to look appetising.

For the most part, he pleaded with anyone passing by, begging to be set free, or just some water and food. One girl, the younger one - Tilly, he believed her name was - had listened and given him a sip of water, which he'd drank with such euphoria he had to hold back a moan.

The other woman, the one with her head buried in a book half the time when she weren't doing chores - Mary something or other - had quietly come to him when it was dark and fed him a few spoonfuls of their usual stew the camp cook makes for their dinner every evening.

It tasted almost as good as it smelled, and Kieran would know exactly how it smelled because the cruel bastards had tied him to the tree right beside the food wagon to watch as they got their dinner each evening.

Not many other people talked to him or even paid him much attention, other than the men who glared at him with murder in their eyes.

Didn't seem to matter how much he swore he weren't an O'Driscoll. He might as well have been trying to convince them the sky was purple instead of blue. They were convinced he was the enemy, an outsider, and they sure as shit treated him like one.

When the three women gathered near enough that Kieran could overhear them gossiping, he listened eagerly. It wasn't often he could listen in on a conversation to take his mind away from the constant pangs of pain and hunger.

His eyes found the one they were talking about, the one they referred to as the 'Ice Queen'. He weren't quite sure what that meant exactly but he presumed from the rest of the conversation that you didn't mix well with folk here.

You were over by the horses, going from animal to animal, stroking their manes, brushing out their coats, sneaking them some treats of apples and carrots and whatnot. From this distance it was hard to tell but he thought he could just about make out your mouth moving as you spoke to the horses.

If he hadn't been tied to a tree for days on end, left to starve and dehydrate, he would've found the sight a lot more endearing. As it was, he didn't have much energy left for endearing.

So he simply filed the information away for later, if there would be a later provided the men of the gang didn't carve him up and add him to the goddamn stew.

The thought caused him to grimace.

Fortunately, they didn't kill him.

Once Kieran led them to where some of the O'Driscolls were hiding out (after they'd threatened to castrate him, mind you) and he'd saved the life of the feller called Arthur, they'd taken a slightly more kinder approach to him.

Even let him stay with them after he'd argued he had nowhere else to go. If he left, Colm and his boys would surely catch up with him and kill him for squealing.

Even though the Van der Linde gang hadn't treated him all too kindly, staying with them was his best option for survival.

They didn't fully trust him enough to let him in on any robberies and schemes, which suited Kieran just fine. He found himself gravitating towards the horses, a natural instinct for him.

He'd always loved horses, even when he was riding with the O'Driscolls he'd look after all the horses and make sure they were fed, clean and healthy. The only reason Kieran figured they hadn't cut him loose back then was because he'd taken such good care of their steeds.

Kieran ran a hand over the smooth coat of a Blood Bay Thoroughbred, admiring the glossy red colour. It was a beautiful mare, calm and friendly, and it seemed to take him to him fairly quick in comparison to the other horses.

Dutch's horse, the Count, had kicked him when he wasn't careful enough and even tried to nip at him a few times.

"Yeah, you're a good girl, ain't ya?" Kieran murmured to the horse, feeding it an apple. "A lot nicer than that nasty Count, that's for damn sure."

The sound of a twig snapping from behind made him freeze and whirl around, expecting to be met by one of the male members of the gang glaring at him. Instinctively, his hands twitched to cover his crotch.

But it wasn't a man.

"O-oh," Kieran stuttered, visibly surprised (and a little more than relieved). He quickly took his hands off his crotch. "Um...hi."

You blinked, face impassive.

Kieran gulped, feeling his nerves grow under your steady, stoic gaze. "U-um, it's Kieran. I - I mean, that's my name, is, uh, Kieran. Not that you're Kieran, obviously you ain't a Kieran, you're a woman and I don't think women are called Kieran - not that there's anything wrong with a woman being called Kieran, o' course, but I just don't think it's a pretty enough name is all..."

The silence was deafening.

Kieran felt mortified. His face was on fire, his hands were clammy and trembling, and his throat was constricted, making his breathing a little shallower.

Then, almost interciptively, the corner of your mouth twitched. A glint of amusement flitted across your eyes. "You sure talk a lot."

The man grimaced, still feeling utterly embarrassed by his idiotic, anxious rambling. "I--I'm sorry, miss, I didn't mean to, I just - I guess I'm still a little nervous."

Instead of turning away in disgust and ignoring him, you held out your hand and offered him a carrot.

Kieran blinked, taken aback. His mind whirred with endless possibilities on why you might be giving him a random vegetable - and how to politely say thank you without seeming as completely bewildered as he felt inside.

It must have shown on his face because the corners of your lips lifted further, forming an amused smile that made the corners of your eyes crease. "It's for Leyla."

It took a moment to register that you were talking about the horse.

"Oh, right, o' course! Um, I didn't realise her name was Leyla." Kieran gingerly accepts carrot from you and offers it to the horse, who gratefully gobbles it down, making sounds of approval.

You smile fondly. "Named her after a dog I had when I was a kid."

His brows raise in shock as your words register. "She's yours?"

"Mhm," you hum in response with a nod. "Best damn girl in the entire country - ain't ya, Ley?"

Leyla, as if in agreement, stomped her hooves and swished her tail.

Kieran huffs a warm chuckle at the horses reaction. He had no idea she belonged to you. If he had, well, he doesn't think he could've treated her better, she was already getting a few more treats and brushes than the other steeds.

"You like horses then?" You ask nonchalantly, stepping around him to gently scratch under Leyla's muzzle.

Kieran cleared his throat, taking a step back, giving you some room. Being so close to you made him feel all jittery inside. "Uh, sure, yeah, I- I like horses as much as the next feller."

"It's nice, isn't it? To be around creatures who don't make you feel judged or make you second guess yourself."

A smile spread on Kieran's mouth as he nodded in agreement. "It is."

As you and the Duffy man continued to make conversation about the horses, you were unaware of three pairs of eyes on you from across camp.

"The first time she speaks to a human being and it's the O'Driscoll?" Karen hisses as she, Tilly and Mary-Beth watch in disbelief.

"I guess they both really like horses," Mary-Beth murmurs, and Tilly nods, agreeing with her.

The trio of women continue to watch on in intense intrigue as you and Kieran host a spirited discussion for what seems like hours.

Before that day, they'd rarely, if ever, seen you smile.

After that day, when they'd catch you talking to Kieran again, they swore they'd never seen you smile as much.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

note: fun fact. i called the reader's horse after my own dog and she is also, in fact, the best damn girl 🐾💓

Meet Me in the Pale Moonlight ✮⋆˙

kieran duffy x reader

rating: explicit (18+)

Spirits are high once Jack is returned from Bronte's capture, and the gang indulges in some much needed celebration.

But you're not looking to party. You just want to spend some time with the guy who's caught your eye, Kieran "not an O'driscoll" Duffy...

content warning: f reader, smut MDNI, friends to lovers, esteem issues, gentle sex, piv sex, cunnilingus, lots of feelings and also cum, filthy dirty, kieran deserved the world and also some pussy <\3

word count: 4.7k

The Van Der Londe gang had been engulfed in chaos ever since little Jack had been taken.

Abigail has been hysterical, John seems to have had his paternal instincts awoken, enraged that his child has been stolen from him. Dutch has been on a warpath, the others following him in his endeavours to return the little one.

All you can do is watch from the sidelines, a trusted member of the gang. A woman, but skilled with firearms and entrusted to keep the gang safe while the others search for the boy.

You spend your days protecting the others, and soothing your dear friend as she sobs for her son.

When Jack is finally brought home, the whole camp seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

You watched as Dutch rode in, followed by John and a thankfully right as rain Jack.

“I’m fine mama!” The little boy called as his father pulled him off the horse, babbling away about the food he ate.

He’s completely unaware and innocent to the reasons why he was gone, to the fear everyone felt.

The joy now that he’s home.

It brought a smile on everyone's faces when Abigail wrapped her boy in her arms, thanking the others profusely for bringing her son home.

Immediately spirits had been lifted, the gang had finally had a win after months of losing.

One could say it's certainly a call for celebration.

Underneath the stars, drinks are opened and music is played, every somber face now has a giddy, drunken smile on it.

The gang hasn't been this happy since Sean had been returned, god rest his soul.

You sit beside Arthur at the fire, pleasantly buzzing after a couple of beers, singing along with everyone else.

But your eyes keep straying across the clearing, where a certain man stands idly away from the group.

Kieran Duffy leans against a table, his own beer in between his fingers as he gently sways side to side to the tune of Javier’s guitar.

He hadn't joined the others around the campfire, which you understand. But it just makes you want to be over there with him instead.

Not that you didn't enjoy partaking in the parting, it's just that you would rather do… well, him.

You blush at the thought, clearing your throat as if everyone else could have possibly heard what's going on inside your head..

“I’m gonna get another drink.” You say to no-one in particular. Arthur smiles up at you, giving you a drunken salute.

As you walk away from the campfire, you’re almost drawn into a conversation with Hosea, a drinking game with Karen, and a dance with Uncle. All of which you politely refuse with promises of joining them later.

You’re a woman on a mission, making a beeline to the silly man of your dreams.

“Hey, Kieran.” You greet, causing the man to jump and turn to you, wide eyed.

He relaxes when he realises it's you, a blush on his cheeks as he gives you a smile, nervously gripping his beer in suddenly shaky hands.

“Evenin’, miss.”

“Why aren't you celebrating with everyone?” You ask, leaning on the table beside him, your elbow brushing with his.

Kieran stiffens but leans into you, his temple nearly touching yours with the close proximity. Far too close for two uninvolved people, but the drink has loosened both of your inhibitions.

“Ah, you know… thought I'd let you all have your celebration. No need for me to bother y’all.” He says softly, somberly even with a slight drunken lilt to his voice.

“You ain't bothering no-one.” You say, “Especially not me.”

Kieran ducks his head, but you can see a small smile on his face, and his cheeks not covered by his scruffy beard have gone red, visible even in the lowlight of the campfire.

You take a sip from your beer, admiring the scene of everyone else having fun.

It's nice to be a part of something so jovial, but you can't truly enjoy it if Kieran is left out.

“Come on.” You extend your hand, “It's too loud here, let's go for a walk.”

Kieran cheers up immediately, taking your hand. He follows you willingly, his fingers intertwined with yours as you pull him away from the noise, and around the Shady Belle house.

A little ways away from the camp, you find a nice enough clearing to spend time with Kieran.

The willow trees surround you both like a curtain of privacy,, but the moon shines through the partings of their branches. Long grass is underfoot, slightly damp with this morning's rain.

The noise of the party can still be heard, so you know you’re not too far.

But far enough that you can have some peace and quiet with the man who holds your heart, even though he doesn't know that yet.

The moon reflects off of the dew drops on the grass and you sway slightly, turning to Kieran to give him a smile, “Much better-”

You’re cut off by Kieran’s lips on yours.

A surprised noise escapes you, but you melt against him instantly. The kiss is hungry, desperate, lips moving and teeth clashing as Kieran puts all of his energy into it.

And you reciprocate it all, your fingers twisting into his blue shirt and pulling his body to you.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, tipsy and happy while you lock lips beneath the moon.

All too quickly, however, it stops. Kieran takes a step back, looking at you with wide eyes like he himself is shocked by what he just did.

It’s adorable.

He starts stuttering out apologises, clearly horrified at his actions.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” Kieran whispers, looking away, “I just… really wanted to do that. B-but I shouldn't have just done that! Y-you can hit me now, if you want.”

You laugh, taking his face between your hands, soothing him and ceasing his anxious rambling.

“I ain't gonna hit you, silly. I might kiss you again, though.”

Kieran looks surprised, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you with his jaw dropped, “...Huh?”

You chuckle, nudging your nose against his, “Would you like to kiss me again?”

“More than anything,” Kieran murmurs, “But… why do you want to kiss me?”

“Because I like you.”

“...Why?”

“Oh, Kieran.” You sigh, a smile remaining on your lips, though sadder now, “I wish you could see yourself how I see you.”

He just looks down at you, face held between your palms. His beard is coarse beneath your fingertips, his skin warm due to his flushed cheeks. He smells like cigarettes, beer and faintly of the distinctive smell of horse.

It's a scent that is so overtly Kieran, that you just want to bottle it up and keep it forever.

“How… Do you see me?” Kieran asks shyly as he looks away.

“Well for starters I think you are one of the kindest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.” You say earnestly.

Kieran chuckles, “I don't know about all that-”

“You’re polite with everyone here even when we don't deserve your niceties.” You continue, “The horses love you as much as you love them. You’re brave, though no-one else seems to see that. You’ve survived all the hardships life has thrown at you, and remained a good man through it all. You saved Arthur’s life, though you could have left him to the O’driscolls. You have the most beautiful eyes that I’ve ever seen-”

“Okay you can stop now.” Kieran laughs, the skin around his eyes crinkling, “You’re… I… see, I’m not as good with my words as you are.”

You giggle, bumping his forehead with his, “Do you like me as much as I like you?”

“More.” Kieran breathes, “Ever since I first saw you, up in Colter… god, it’s like you put a spell on me. “

This surprised you. You remember the day he was brought into camp. You had been talking to Hosea and Dutch when Arthur returned with an O’driscoll in tow.

You stood beside your fearless leader as he gave the prisoner a speech that you only half listened to.

Once Dutch had finished his spiel, the man's eyes turned to you. The fear you saw in them made you sad, and guilty. He looked less like a big, scary O’driscoll and more like a frightened street dog.

So you offered him a small smile, watching as his eyes softened slightly, despite being pulled away aggressively by Bill Williamson and Uncle.

Little did you know that that small act of kindness on your end had altered the trajectory of both of your lives.

“Every day has been worth living through just to see you whenever you pass.” Kieran continues, looking almost close to tears.

You hold his face harder, kissing his cheek to comfort him.

He sighs, his voice shaking, “When you first spoke to me… I could barely string a sentence together.”

The memory makes you smile, remembering the day he had been let free to roam after saving Arthur’s life.

You had been the one to pass him a bowl of stew, much to the chagrin of Pearson.

When you passed Kieran the bowl, his fingers brushed yours, and he had flushed bright red and stuttered out words that broadly resembled a “thank you.”

Ever since that day you had made an effort to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You spoke to him daily, sat with him when he was alone at the night watch campfire. Your feelings had grown for him rapidly, almost blindsiding you when you woke up one day realising-

‘Oh god, I’m in love with Kieran Duffy’

It had only taken you until now to find the courage to do something. The moods are high and the celebrations offer you privacy.

God only knows when you’re going to get this opportunity again.

“I love you, Kieran.”

Kieran freezes, his eyes meeting yours. He blinks at you, like he’s trying to translate those words in his head.

“You… love me?” He whispers.

“Yep.” You smile, “I love you, Kieran Duffy.”

Like the spark of a match, Kieran’s face lights up immediately. He steps closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist, his lips finding yours and kissing you fervently.

You wrap your arms around neck, fingers carding through the long hairs at the back of his neck.

“Wait.” He stops, stepping back and taking your hands in his own, his face earnest as he takes a deep breath, “I love you too, Y/N.”

“I gathered that.” You laugh.

Kieran beams further, stepping in your space again to resume kissing you.

The kiss grows hungry, neither of you willing to hide your mutual desire. Lips slide against the other, soft sighs and appreciative moans filling the air.

You bite his lower lip, earning a surprised yelp from him, before he opens his mouth, surrendering to your wandering tongue. As you explore, a wanton moan escapes Kieran, making you sigh with need.

Slipping your hands from his neck down to his hips, to push him gently. Kieran gets the message, sitting down on the grass, while you kneel with him.

Your knees bracket his thighs, not quite touching for fear of overwhelming your lover.

Kieran is needy though, and he grabs at your waist, pulling you flush against him so he can resume kissing you.

He’s eager, his tongue slipping into your own mouth now. It's messy and passionate, months of longing coming to an explosive end.

“God.. what are you doing to me?” Kieran sighs against your lips, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, his hands kneading at your waist like a cat.

“I plan on doing a lot more to you, Mr Duffy.” You rasp, biting his lip and kissing along his jaw.

Kieran sighs contentedly, leaning back on his hands to extend his neck for you. You pepper kisses along the edge of his beard, following the lines of his throat.

A kiss to his pulse point makes Kieran shudder, a purr-like groan escaping him.

Your hands wander his torso as you kiss his neck and collar bones.

“Can I take your shirt off, Kieran?”

“Mhm, yes, please…” He whispers, practically shaking with anticipation.

His eagerness makes you even more desperate for him, your fingers working quickly to pull his blue shirt off his shoulders before working on his undershirt.

It's slipped off in record time, joining his shirt on the ground. You look over his torso admiringly.

He’s skinny, pale skin stretched across gentle curves of muscle from working tirelessly around camp. Dark hair dusts across his pectorals, a lone following his stomach and disappearing into his trousers.

Kieran holds his breath as you look him over, squirming slightly as he starts to feel self conscious. From his furrowed brow and slight frown, you can tell he’s worried you find him unattractive.

And that just won't do.

You lean forward to kiss his chest, right above his thudding heart. Kieran gasps at the feeling, settling back onto his hands again.

You trail kisses over his chest, going as far as to kiss one of his nipples. Kieran whimpers, before pressing his lips together to stop anymore of those embarrassing sounds.

“Nuh uh.” You chastise, “Don't hold back on me now, Duffy. I've waited too damn long to hear those noises for you to go quiet on me.”

Kieran blushes even brighter, but a tiny smile crosses his face.

You resume your worship of his chest, kissing down and following the line of hair down his sternum. Kieran writhes, fingers digging into the ground as he experiences sensations alien to him prior to this night.

You kiss the spot just above his belly button, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Kieran looks ready to spontaneously combust.

His hands find your shoulders, travelling down your arms and then grasping onto your waist, tugging at the material.

“Wanna see you.” Kieran whines, pulling at your dress with shaking hands, “Take this off, please.”

“Behave.” You chastise half-heartedly, hands already going to the ties at the back of your dress.

Once undone, you let the garment fall to your waist. Your chemise is old and practically see through, your breasts and hardened nipples on display for Kieran to admire.

He gasps when he sees them. You blush, fiddling with his belt absentmindedly. But your attention is distracted when Kieran raises his hands, hesitating and looking at you.

“Can I…?” He asks, always polite as he hovers his shaking hands over your boobs.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seems to make your poor man flush even redder, his head ducking slightly before he regains some semblance of confidence. His hands reach out, gently grasping at your breasts.

You bite your lip, letting him fondle them with an awed expression. Kieran’s fingers smooth over the material of your chemise, rubbing over your heated skin and perked nipples.

“Never seen a pair of tits before?” You tease.

Kieran frowns, defensive, “I've had other things to do, you know…”

“I'm sorry baby.” You giggle, arching to press your breasts harder into his hands, “If it makes you feel better, you’ll have access to these ones as much as you like, for as long as you like.”

Kieran’s brain seems to go blank at this, his lips parted as he stares at your breasts like they’re simply the most amazing things he’s ever been in the presence of.

He looks up at you, wistful, “Really?”

“Yes, my darling.” You purr, “All of me is yours now.”

Kieran moans at that, leaning forward to press his face against your chest, taking shuddering breaths like he’s trying to control himself.

The man seems damn near close to finishing with every sentence you say.

It’s about time you get to the main event. There will be time for taking things slow later.

You twist your fingers in his hair, bringing his face up so you can kiss him again. While you do that, you undo his belt.

Kieran shudders, melting against you as you kiss him and begin to remove the last items of clothing he wears.

Once his belt is undone, you pull away from his lips. He tries to seek you out again, frowning before his attention is diverted to you tugging down his trousers.

You tug them down to his thighs, pulling off his shoes and socks as well, before removing the rest of his clothes.

A prominent bulge tents his undergarments, and you swiftly tug those down too, exposing his cock.

Your eyebrows raise, surprised to see he’s a little bigger than what you had originally seen while he was tied to the tree.

When Dutch pulled his trousers down and threatened to held him, he had been quite small.

But now he’s a decent size, not too big too hurt but definitely big enough to bring you pleasure. Flushed and weeping, and hard enough to damage steel.

“It does that.” Kieran says softly, causing you to look up at him, “Uh, you know, gets bigger when I’m enjoyin’ myself.”

“Well ain't I lucky?” You grin, and Kieran beams up at you.

You reach down, grabbing the bottom of your chemise to pull it over your head. Kieran's eyes fixate on your breasts. You shuffle slightly to tug your bloomers down as well, throwing it to the pile of yours and Kieran’s clothes.

Kieran rests his hands on your hips; fingers flexing as he lies down fully. He looks up at you with wide and eager eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You settle down against his thighs, his cock trapped between your bodies as you lean down to kiss him leisurely.

“You ready, darling?” You ask against his lips.

“Please, sweetheart. Need ya.” Kieran murmurs, pupils large and eyelids half closed as he looks over your face.

You reach down, finding his hard cock. Kieran inhales sharply at the feeling, a shuddered moan escaping you when he feels your heat brush against his weeping tip.

It takes one slow descent for your cunt to swallow him up, both of your hips meeting.

You release a satisfied groan at the fullness, closing your eyes for a moment to savour the feeling of Kieran filling you.

His cock throbs inside you, and you open your eyes to find Kieran watching you, his jaw slack and a dazed look in his blue eyes.

“So beautiful.” He whispers, “God- h-how are you so perfect…”

“My love…” You sigh, grinding on his lap to provide you both with the friction you desperately need

Kieran shudders and groans, hips bucking slightly.

“Ready?” You ask him again, needing to know he’s okay, seeing as he looks like he’s close to passing out from the pleasure.

“Mhm.” He whines out.

You rise, letting only the tip of him remain before sliding back down.

Before long, you’ve found a rhythm, riding Kieran slowly to get both of you used to the feeling. With every rise and fall, Kieran gasps and moans whorishly, his neck arched back and eyes fluttered closed.

The sight is vulgar, watching the man you’ve grown to love succumb to the pleasure you can provide.

You ride him faster, harder, seeking out the whines Kieran begins to make. His fingers grip on to your hips, short fingernails making crescent shaped marks in your plush flesh.

A sharp thrust downwards makes Kieran gasp out, chest rising and falling rapidly, squirming below you as you begin to ride him vigorously..

“Hngh, fuck, feels so go-od!” Kieran whines, hips bucking up, “Don’t stop- oh fuck-!”

You moan, bouncing harder on his cock as he meets your thrusts.

His cock begins pulsing inside you, a fluttering heartbeat, and Kieran begins shaking. His moans increase in volume, his eyes rolling back.

You feel your own orgasm growing, riding him rapidly as you seek your release.

But a choked out curse from Kieran makes you realise this isn't going to last long enough.

“Wa-it, shit- I-I’m gonna-” He warns.

You gasp when Kieran moans and thrusts up, hips flush against yours as his face contorts. Warmth floods your insides as he cums inside you.

Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

A small smile curves on your face, finding his cute face endearing as he murmurs out incoherent praises as his cock throbs.

His orgasm seems to last ages, his cock pumping for a few moments until Kieran’s cum leaks out of you. You rub your hands over his chest, comforting as he shakes and moans softly.

It takes a while for him to come back to himself.

Suddenly, Kieran’s eyes open and his face falls, looking up at you with a suddenly mortified expression, blue eyes hazy.

“Oh- I-I’m so sorry, you didn’t…” He sighs, looking away and to the side, “I’m so sorry-”

“Don't be.” You comfort him, bringing your hands from his chest to his face, leaning forward to kiss his cheek gently, “I'm glad I could make you feel so good.”

“You did.” Kieran nods enthusiastically, nuzzling against you, “I've never felt so damn good…”

Kissing along his cheeks, you rise, feeling his softening cock slip out of you.

Kieran whimpers as the cold air hits him, and both of your eyes widen when you see the copious amounts of cum that leaks from you. It floods down your thighs and over his spent cock, making quite a mess on both of you.

“Damn. You were pent up.” You chuckle, running your hands over his chest.

Kieran stares at the mess, before looking up at you with a shy yet eager expression, “C-can I…?”

“What, baby?”

“Can I clean y-you up?”

You nod, though confused, “If you want to.”

Kieran begins moving, and you collapse back against the grass with your eyes closed. It's a shame you didn't finish, but after seeing Kieran in such a state of euphoria, you couldn't really complain.

You hear Kieran shuffling around, and you let your legs fall open so he can clean you up.

“You can use my chemise to clean- oh!”

You gasp and your eyes open when you feel Kieran lick along your thigh.

He looks up at you, eyes wide and puppy-like as he begins licking your cum stained thighs.

“I didn't- I didn't know this is what you meant.” You murmur, enamoured by the sight of him between your legs.

“I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kieran asks, worried, “I heard how it feels good when guys use their mouths on their ladies, I thought-”

“Please don't stop, baby.” You urge him, spreading your legs further to encourage him.

He smiles, lying on his belly as he wraps his arms around your thighs, returning to his task.

Running his tongue over your inner thighs, Kieran licks up his spend passionately. He cleans your skin and leaves kisses in his wake, before dragging his tongue up to your cunt.

He looks up at you for permission, and you nod quickly, taking shuddering breaths.

Kieran dives in, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking on it fervently.

You devolve into moans, back arching as he begins eating you out messily and uncoordinated, fueled by pure desire and the need to make you feel good.

And it sure does make you feel good.

Sparks of pleasure coarse through you as Kieran fucks his tongue into you, drinking up his own release and moaning when he tastes you as well.

Because of how close to were before, you feel your orgasm creeping up on you quickly.

Kieran whines against your cunt, mouthing away at it as his eyes watch your face. The way he moans against you, you would think he was the one being pleasured.

You can feel your body being pushed forwards and backwards against the grass, and you look down to see Kieran pathetically rutting against the ground, trying to get some stimulation as he presses his face against your intimacy.

It has you cumming, and Kieran drinks up your release with an appreciative whine, eating you up eagerly until you’re worried you’ll be licked dry.

It feels too good to care, though.

He keeps eating you, and you wonder if he would be happy just lying her on his belly mouthing at you until the end of time.

But you want him inside you again.

“C-come up here baby.” You say, pulling him away from between your legs.

Kieran scrambles up, pressing his whole body against you as he urgently kisses you again, sloppy and desperate. You can taste yourself on his lips, and his scruffy beard is wet with your release.

He thrusts against your hip, blind to where his target is as he focuses on kissing you. You laugh against his lips, drawing your knees up to try to help him find your entrance.

Kieran refuses to separate his skin from yours for even a second, nudging at your cheek as he rubs his cock against your thigh.

“Can you put me in, please?” He asks, sweet voice raspy and shaking.

You reach down, finding his member and directing it against your entrance, and Kieran bucks the tip in. Without wasting a beat, he pushes forward.

“Ohh… yes…” Kieran breathes out, hands fisting into the grass as he pulls out and pushes back in fast, forcing a moan out your throat.

He smiles at the noise, repeating the action over and over again to keep extracting noise from you,

“You sound so pretty.” Kieran murmurs, awed as he watches your face.

You moan out, locking your thighs against his waist to encourage him, and Kieran gets the hint. He increases his thrusts, fucking into you wildly as he watched your face.

His eyebrows are furrowed, mouth open as he takes sharp breaths, eyes trained on your own blissed out expression.

“Does- does that feel good?” He breathes out, keeping the fast pace of his hips.

“Yes!” You call out, feeling him hitting the spot inside you that makes you see stars, “Don’t stop Kieran! Feels so good!”

Reaching down, you play with your clit, tightening around the man inside you.

Kieran moans, throwing his head back as he fucks you faster and harder, “S-say my name again… please, say my name-”

“Kieran! Oh god, Kieran!” You cry out, shaking as your orgasm crashes over you.

You shudder and shake, wrapping your arms around Kieran’s neck as he moans and his thrusts turn sloppy.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” You breathe, “Cum inside me Kieran, fill me up, show me how much you love me.”

“I love you! I love you so mu-ch! Oh yes, oh-” Kieran cries out, collapsing against you as he cums inside you for the second time. His skin is sweaty as you wrap your arms around his back, soothing him as he weakly thrusts a few more times to prolong the feeling.

After a moment, he moves to lie down beside you,kissing your shoulder as he murmurs out praises, telling you how much he loves you.

You look up at the moon, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I love you too, Kieran Duffy.”

Kieran rests his head on your chest, holding you close as you stroke his hair. Your sweaty bodies are pressed against one another, uncaring of your nakedness as you bask in the afterglow.

A twig snaps in the distance, and an owl hoots.

You’re suddenly on edge, a flash of concern going through you as you turn to look at the trees.

A flash of movement makes you furrow your brows, urging kieran up. He gets up sleepily, a dopey smile on his face as you dress the both of you and take his hand.

The camp had gone quiet as you return, and you make your way to your tent without issue.

Kieran falls asleep immediately, but you stand at the doorway, trying to see what was lingering in the swamps.

A shadow moves.

The moonlight reflects green.

In the early hours of the morning, you lie beside Kieran. You kept awake as he slept soundly cuddled up to you, your pistol in your hand.

You could have sworn an o'driscoll was hiding in the woods, hunting your man. And that just won't do.

Ain’t nobody gonna take him from you now that you have him.

AN/ saving kieran by giving him some pussy (doing what rockstar couldnt) this was filthy! i meant to post this a couple of days ago, but i wasn't happy with it and changed it lol xx

@spimderman & @gotthecosmonaut for my kieran lovers <3

I. HAVE. AN. IDEA!!!

Okay, for those who are unaware, this idea is HEAVILY based off of The Arcana. (totally not self indulgent about my own oc but everyone is welcome to use it and read it as they please)

So, Imagine...

Y/N, who grew up with the boys. Maybe they met at school, maybe they met because of their parents- hell, maybe they met because they were defending the twins. Either way, they ended up stuck with them and they couldn't be happier about it.

As the years go on, both Stan and Ford find themselves attracted to Y/N but neither one acts on it because they know the other has a crush on them.

Eventually, the incident happened and Y/N walks over to the Pines residence the next day, only to find out that Stan didn't live there anymore and Ford wouldn't talk about it- he wouldn't even come out of his room. Y/N tries to contact the both of them for a while but eventually gives up and moves on with their life.

After weeks of pressure by their parents, they leave for collage- the only one they were able to get into was Backupsmore (gotta be real, I dont even remember if that's the actual name of it or not but I'm so tired that I don't think I could be fucked to look it up rn) and were completely shocked to see Ford there. After some harassment, they finally get him to talk to them and they reconnect- but he won't dare talk about what happened with Stan, only giving them the occasional snippet of information to piece things together.

A few years of hard work later, and the two are moving to Gravity Falls to investigate all the weirdness going on.

All is well, the portal is being built, the three scientists are getting alone swimmingly- just like how they did in collage, and Bill is happy to help.

That is until Y/N and Ford go on a walk- only because they dragged him out of the basement, they were sure that he hadn't seen proper sunlight in weeks. During their little excursion, a monster suddenly appears- Ford is able to avoid being hurt but Y/N ends up taking the blow, he panics and tries to get them back to the cabin but it's too late. They succumb to their severe injuries and all Ford can do is clean them up and tuck them into bed- pretending everything is fine for just one moment. And then he remembers.

He goes to Bill for help, he doesn't listen to what the price is- all he wants is his partner back- both in the lab and in life. Bill happily brings them back... some what.

The moment they wake up, they look around confused before turning their attention to the unkown man beside them. Ford stares, absolutely horrified when he realises that the price for brining them back was their memories- the very things that made them what they are.

He tries, desperately tries to do anything to jog their memory but everytime he gets anywhere near close- they're struck with horrible headaches, to the point of passing out. But he still tries, he lost Fiddleford and Bill had betrayed him- all he had left was them and they were just barley there, he could always see that spark of recognition behind their eyes before it fizzled out- he just had to try harder. But he also knew that he needed to get rid of the journals- so he called for help...

After the... second incident, and trying (and crying) for hours, Stan walks up the stairs to the bedroom only to freeze. Reader lays unconscious in bed, still recovering from trying to uncover their memories. And even though he's confused as hell, he takes care of them until they wake up- maybe they have answers to helping get Ford back...

He is shocked to find out that they didn't remember anything, not their childhood, not their time at collage, not their family and not even him. But that doesn't deter him, after all, they're still here- still fighting and so he would take care of them until they were well enough to take care of themselves. (Though he never stopped looking after them, he just got better at being subtle about it) As long as they were here, they could get through it- together.

I got a major headache rn but I wanted to write this down before i pass out and forget about it.

Enjoy!!! If anyone wants to write this, please tag me because it sounds like such a good idea for ANGST!!!

(I also had a silly little idea that I'll add down here but maybe while Bill was resurrecting Y/N, they hung out in the dream realm or some shit- and maybe he decided that he liked them too idk, I was originally gonna add this into the rest of it but I totally forgot and I'm too lazy to rewrite my work so goodluck!!!)