Just A Quick Query, Do You Only Write Curly Bill And Ringo Or Do You Write More? I Wanna Do Doc Ask But

Just a quick query, do you only write Curly Bill and Ringo or do you write more? I wanna do Doc ask but want to respect your writing preferences

Oh no I am all for it! Most of them center around the Cowboys (not just Brocius and Ringo) but I am all for Doc

Hi lovely!!!

Can you write a head cannon about how Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo behave when they're jealous seeing the reader flirt with another man. 🙏

Oh my gosh when I tell you I got so excited for this. I hope this isn’t too much like the other one I did previously but there might be some carry over

Curly Bill

He is livid. Absolutely fuming. He hated watching these sad excuses for Cowboys come up and try to win your affection over a drink or a few pretty words, but when you choose to do it? Oooo you’re in for it.

You both had gotten into a fight. It was a silly fight, really, but his pride and your stubbornness refused to let the sleeping dog lie. You couldn’t even remember what the fight was about (a product of the liquor you both consumed that night having a massive part to play in that) but Brocius was refusing to even utter a simple ‘hello’ to you

Alright, two can play at that game

You decide to pick yourself up off the floor and get dressed in your best. If he was going to be furious with you, you were going to make sure you damn well earned it

It started with ignoring him completely as you left camp, letting McMasters help you onto your horse (you knew Brocius liked to reserve that task only for himself, all to his testament that he would be the only gentleman you needed to turn to)

You knew he’d follow you into town sooner or later — he could never stay away from the night life for long, so you made for the saloon you both preferred to frequent

The night is still young, ladies and gentlemen just starting to fill the saloon, and you blatantly ignore the red sashes that filter through the black and gray suits

“More champagne?” The tycoon whose name you’ve already forgotten offers with a smile, chuckling as you raise your glass to him. He was charming, you had to admit. He had something warm in his eyes, but they never compared to the fire that burned in Brocius’s, that spark so devilish you had no choice but to follow in sin

Suddenly you feel a hand on your waist, nearly yanking you out of your chair into the embrace of a warm figure

Your hands find purchase in a familiar red tunic, and you glance up to see the man of the hour himself, looking positively red and furious. (You never knew Brocius could turn such a shade, no matter what attitude you threw his way you’d never seen him even change color)

You take a quick glance between the two men, immediately clocking the tension in the air, and fueled by the stupidity and pettiness of alcohol, you decide to make it worse

You slither out of Brocius's grip, and saddle up right next to the tycoon, a smile on your face all the while. "Good evening, Curly Bill. I see you've met my latest friend. He and I were just discussing the latest improvements to the Oriental. Care to join us?”

His features turn sour (if such a thing was possible, he was looking positively green mere moments ago) tongue rolling over his cheek, and you know you’ve got a long night ahead of you

Johnny Ringo

If you thought Brocius was bad Johnny is a god damn nightmare

Don’t even get me started on the lengths this man would go to when establishing that you belong to him and no one else — even when the two of you weren’t even courting

Johnny always had a watchful eye, even more so when it came to watching you. Even before the both of you began courting, you’d catch him staring in crowded saloons or high up in the boxes of the Bird Cage Theater.

You didn’t mind it. You’d knew about the infamous Johnny Ringo, heard the legends his name carried, saw the way he carried himself. Always on the hunt for something. Head always on a swivel. You wanted to know the mystery behind the man, what life had been conjured up behind those dark eyes of his.

You finally had the chance to meet him one night at the Oriental, chatting with your friends at the bar when he walks past. He locks eyes with yours and instantly your entranced by the quiet outlaw

To save face, you flash him the smallest of smiles (to be polite, you remember telling a friend) and turn back to the giggling mess your friends have turned into

You don’t watch him leave, but you feel a set of eyes on you all night, even as Mayor Behan introduces himself to your little group with that charming smile of his and wicked sense of humor. He offers your group the finest of wines and champagnes, and while your friend indulge themselves in the Mayor’s money, you prefer to keep an eye on the man you can’t stop thinking about

You notice he likes to watch, too. He’s tucked away in his own little dim corner of the bar, puffing at a cigar as he plays a hand of poker with other Cowboys. Every now and then his cigar lights up his features under the brim of his hat, and his gaze is always set to you. Waiting. (You’re not sure what for; you’ve always loved to play Cat and Mouse, and if he was willing to look at you like you’re dripping sin just for him, you were going to made sure he worked for it)

And just like that, a little match sparks an idea

You turn away from the Outlaw entirely, leaning in closer to Behan as he spins a tale about rescuing a poor kitten out of a tree. A few friends of his arrive too, joining your little group as they vouch for him. You hit it off with one of them right away. Cole, his name is, and he makes you laugh nearly as hard as your brothers did when you were kids. He’s a nice little distraction from the Outlaw lurking in the corner — and a perfect motivator.

You never expected your little game to end so soon

Just as Cole reaches for another glass of wine to pour you, a quarter leaps between the both of you, recoiling in shock as a gray outfit squishes between the small space Cole had once filled

You’re completely surprised to see Johnny Ringo, looking as deadly as the Grim Reaper and oozing sin. He orders a shot of whiskey, eyes set directly on you, before adding another glass of champagne to his order. “That is your weapon of choice tonight, am I correct?”

Your cheeks burn with the question. You expected this game to last a little longer, if you were playing a game at all. He seemed to skip all of the pieces on the board and went straight for your king.

It takes you a moment to recover yourself, but Cole is quicker, interjecting until Ringo’s fingers fly to his holsters.

“Best leave us alone, or it’s your body they’ll be parading down these streets in the morning.”

“I don’t remember asking for a white knight in shining armor to come to my rescue, Mister Ringo.” You say, watching Cole storm out of the bar, ears burning red and face a little pale.

He leans in close, invading your space with the presence of him, tipping his hat just so it’s the two of you. “You didn’t. I’m not the knight you read in fantasy books.”

“No?” You tease, hand over your heart in faked shock. “Then what character will you play in mine?”

“The dragon.”

[ i am so sorry y’all this feels so rushed AND ITS SO LATE. life has been kicking me in the butt lately and i so desperately wanted to get this out sooner but my brain pan is currently on fire and there’s no fire extinguisher in the kitchen. let me know if you want to see more! ]

─ 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

summary: she tries to deny it, but truth is, she's falling in love with him

warnings: language, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking

pairings: johnny ringo x outlaw!oc (⨍)

“You make me feel…you make me feel,” she said quietly, fiercely, a tremble on her lip and bottle clutched so tight she swears it’ll shatter in her hands, “and I don’t like it. I want it to stop.”

He looks at her, quiet and foreboding as he’s always been, thumbs tucked in his sash as they always are, hat dipped below his eyes like it always is. She hates when he looks at her that way.

Quiet. Hungry. Carnal.

She hates when her heart races and leaps into her throat when he tilts his hat just so, hates when her knees quiver with every step his take. Ever so languid — smug, even — towards her like they’re the only two in the damn roo. She hates how dizzy he makes her when his fingers lace through her sash, tugs her close enough she can see the hazel in his dark eyes and smell the lingering cigar smoke on his breath.

She hates how it makes her feel.

Weak. Vunerable. Desired.

She hates it.

And yet…

She never wants him to stop.

“Everly…”

She can’t bear to look at him.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Rough fingers hook under her chin, tilting just so his lips are a moments away from hers she can taste the whiskey on his breath and inhale the lingering fumes of cigars. It leaves her dizzy and shaken and drunk on only the feeling of him.

“Johnny…,” she whispers. A warning. A plea. A prayer on the tip of her tongie all he has to do is reach out and taste it.

The thought thrills and scares her.

Something shifts behind his eyes, darker as they flutter down to her lips, her nose, her brow before they return to her own.

“What do I make you feel?” He whispers the words into her mouth, her head swimming when his fingers hook into her sash, pulling her so close her hips knock into his, and she swears her heart’s stopped beating right in her chest.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

I love you.

The bottle slips from her hands.

“I look at you, and I just love you,” the confession is so small, so quiet, hardly above a whisper. A mere note hanging on the end of a song he can hear that damn lunger playing just a few saloons down.

He hears it. He hears it and hangs on to every word.

“I love you, Johnny. And it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you.”

Hanahaki disease with the Cowboys. That’s it. That’s the title

status: semi-active requests are open ! last updated: june 6, 2024

current projects:

n/a

howdy ! i’m mads (i also go by ringo on this platform) and i run this little corner here for the cowboys of tombstone (though it might not be just limited to the cowboys) ! i am from the always sunny state of arizona and i would throw down for johnny ringo. if you have any questions for anything i write for/may write for or are interested in, please don’t hesitate to send in an ask !

things to know:

anyone can follow this blog, i usually try to keep things relatively tame on here (writing 🌶️ material isn’t really my forte but i’m no stranger to challenges)

i will tag any nsfw content with ‘nsfw’

this being said, minors, you need to be careful with how you interact with my content. if any work says ‘nsfw’ it is not intended for you or any other mature content i decide to post

i ask that y’all please refrain from trauma dumping in my posts. my friend and i have been the subject of those a few times and it was just too overwhelming for the fun i am trying to create. that being said, i want to write for everyone and will not be writing posts about self harm, eating disorders, sexual assaults, and non-con, as these can be triggering for other readers and myself

i will not always be on time with requests. i do have a full time job and i am looking to go into firefighting at the same time. i will try to get to them as soon as i can, but this account is for fun and that’s what i want to achieve here

i do run two other sister blogs ! if you’re into creepypasta, i have a blog you can pop over to (this is usually run by my good friend salem). this is usually centered around 2012-2015 era of creepypasta since that is the one we are most familiar with. i also run an all-fandoms type blog where we both post anime, shows, bands (i’m diving into sleep token), movies, and books

if reading on tumblr isn’t your thing, most (if not all) of these will be cross-posted on my ao3. i will also have spotify playlists up for characters/series eventually as well !

recommendations:

spotify // ao3