No One Understands How Vindicated I Feel Right Now. For Years, I Have Been Inlove With Murro Morton-

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.

Guess who just finished acrane and is writing this with actual tears on my face!!! I need some Vander fluff- i think i will emplode- it doesnt even have to be anything specific i just need comfort after that shit storm 😭

Yes my child. Mommy will make good on your request.

And don’t even get me started on S2. I can’t bring myself to watch it yet. I’m still not even over S1 and I KNOW for a fact it’s not even as sad as I’ve learned S2 is.

But shhhhh, Mommy’s got you. Here’s the fluff you asked for.

Piltover’s Got Nothin’ On You | Vander Fluff Flash 🍺🤎

(GIF cred: me <3)

Pairings: Vander x GN!Reader

Pronouns: No pronouns used.

Rating: SFW - Minors, you can look now. (But that’s debatable because Reader and Vander are lying presumably half naked in bed together— but I’ll let it slide since it’s very innocent)

Word Count: 524

Summary: Vander is enjoying a nice cozy morning with you, and reminds you exactly how he feels.

Tags: 18+ reader, just because it’s a little maturely themed if you whip out a magnifying glass, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Domesticity W/ Vander, OoeyGooeyRomance

Notes: None, just enjoy. Take a breather. 🤍

“Would I lie to you?” The question hung in the air, light yet loaded with meaning. It was enough to send a familiar flutter through your stomach, a soft, nervous twinge that made your heart skip. The sensation was strangely uncomfortable, yet in the most endearing way—like a gentle reminder of how much he could still make you feel, even in the simplest of moments.

You lay atop the man you were speaking to, both of you bare-chested, the warmth of your skin pressing together in an effortlessly comforting way. The coolness of the morning air was a distant contrast to the heat between you, a calm presence that made the moment feel serene to say the least. His steady breathing beneath you gave the moment a gentle rhythm, and for a while, there was nothing but the simple unspoken connection between you both before you responded.

“Maybe. Depends.” You tease, your words playful but laced with a hint of mischief.

His response is immediate—his large hand slipping into yours with a quiet sense of contentment, the warmth of his grip grounding you. There’s a comfort in the way he holds you, as if, in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. His touch speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding between you both more powerful than anything words could convey.

“Someone clearly thinks highly of me,” he teases back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Before you can answer, he leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch tender and full of quiet affection. The sweetness of the gesture catches you off guard, a simple act that somehow feels like the most genuine expression of his feelings—a quiet reminder of how deeply he cares.

You smile, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.

“All I was saying is that, as much as Piltover has its minor flaws—“ you begin, your voice light with amusement as you’re stopped short.

“Appalling flaws, really. Humongous, towering flaws,” he interrupts playfully, his tone teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, still held firmly in his.

You can’t help but laugh at his wit.

“Yes, huge, appalling flaws. But despite all that, Topside is stunning at night. The lights here are beautiful, too, but nothing compares to the glow of Piltover.” You add, trying to make your point clear: a city’s beauty can stand on its own, no matter what darkness might lurk behind the scenes.

He regards you for a long while, his gaze lingering on your face with an amusement that never quite fades. The seconds stretch on, almost too long—what might seem like a few moments in the world’s rhythm becomes an eternity in his eyes. Each shift in your expression, each subtle change in your posture, draws him in, holding his attention as if time itself has slowed. And yet, even as eternity unfolds, it’s still not enough. To him, no amount of time could ever truly capture all he wants to see.

“That may be true,” he says, his voice steady, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“But Piltover’s got nothin’ on you.”

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

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😭

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.

So I was tweaking out (maladaptive daydreaming) and I remembered this one song from the Steven Universe Movie with Spinel and Steven and its called "Found" and I'm deep into my Arcane obsession so you can probably see where this is going.

IMAGINE JINX X READER BUT ITS THAT SONGGGGG 😭😭😭

"Someday, Somewhere, Somehow"

"You'll love again"

"You just need to find someone"

"Someday, Somewhere, Somehow"

"I'll love again" "You'll love again"

"I just need to find someone" "You just need to find someone"

"Someone who treats me better" "Someone who treats you better"

"Someone who wants me around" "Someone who wants you around"

"Someday, Somewhere, Somehow, I'm gonna feel found" "You're gonna feel found"

"Today, Right here, Right now, I already feel found"

Reader is in green because green is awesome!!!!!!!!

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.”

reblog if ur mom is smart and beautiful

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!

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.