#curing his hangover with an ice cream

[artemispt]

[megu-meow]

when gojo falls in love - gojo satoru

gojo satoru x fem. reader

Summary: She fell first, but he fell harder.

It was hard not to fall in love with Gojo Satoru. He was a ray of sunshine, always lifting the mood in every room, radiating the friendliest, kindest aura you have ever witnessed. His youthful, laid-back personality complemented his intelligence and wit, always having a funny comeback to Suguru's constant teasing.

He seemed so unapproachable to you, the Strongest, the Honored One, the Heir of the Gojo Clan, the Wielder of the Six Eyes, and Master of the Limitless. Those were the titles he was referred to in your crazy world, someone who was to be praised for the immense power he wielded and the enemies he had eliminated. However, you saw Satoru in a different light, finding other reasons to praise him. The gentleness he would befriend a stray cat with, the way he politely bows at the cashier at his favorite bakery, or the fact that he makes soup for everyone after a night out to cure your hangovers. He buys a bouquet of tulips for every girl and woman on Jujutsu Tech's campus, without exception, on International Women's Day. He remembers the lunch lady's son's birthday and gives her the remote-control car the young boy so desperately wanted because he knew Watanabe-sama, as he refers to her, could never afford it. He sits down to play chess with the elderly man in front of the convenience store every day because he knows he lost his opponent for the last 40 years not too long ago.

It is easy to fall in love with Gojo Satoru, however, it is hard for Gojo Satoru to fall in love. Or at least, that's what he thinks. At first, when you join them, he doesn't give much thought to it. He's pleased that there is another girl added to the group, so he and Suguru don't have to listen to Shoko's constant whining about them being gross anymore. He also relishes in the attention you give him, because he knows you're quite infatuated with him, like most of the girls are.

However, as time passes, he realizes that your kindness makes a red hue run across his pale cheeks. Every time he does the smallest things, you praise him for it. Others don't compliment him on his politeness, something he prides himself on because his mother taught him to act this way - the only person who loved him for him so far. Other people praise him for his technique, his unique eyes, and his otherworldly good looks. You're the only one who notices the small things he does and that warms his fragile heart. So he asks you out on a date.

He doesn't give it much thought, just a walk in the park full of cherry blossoms and ice cream. However, he swoons at the fact that you seem like this is the best date you have ever been on, you thank him repeatedly for paying for your ice cream and offer him the Kit Kat chunk the guy stuck into your dessert as an attempt to flirt with you, because you know Satoru loves Kit Kats, they're his favorite candy bar.

Gojo Satoru reaches one important conclusion that night, after walking you to your dorm room. You are, in fact, very easy to fall in love with.

Instead of fighting it, he lets this new feeling flourish. He starts putting in an insane amount of effort, he pays attention to the small things, he drinks up every word that you speak, he takes notes on his phone because he wants to walk the extra mile for you. His new goal in life becomes making you, the first girl who looks past the titles and likes him for him, happy. His enthusiasm in doing so never falters, even after years together or after marriage.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asks you as his extremely perceptive eyes take in your slumped shoulders, the dark circles under your eyes and the slight frown that replaces the pretty smile he fell in love with.

"Long day, baby, long day." you sigh and he is quick on his feet, he embraces you, leaving a loving kiss on the crown of your head.

"Change your wizarding clothes, pretty girl, I'll run you a bath. How does that sound, huh?"

"Amazing, Satoru. Thank you!" you respond, smiling tiredly, leaving a kiss on his glossy lips.

"Everything for you."

Not only does he prepare a bath, but he also lights some candles, drops some lavender-infused salts in the water, and prepares some fruits and your book as well. While you relax your body in the water which is the perfect temperature, he makes your favorite meal for dinner and starts up the fireplace so that the two of you can cuddle up on the couch.

After dinner he holds you close, absentmindedly running his hands over your back, in your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, small confessions that make you feel a lot better about yourself. Satoru would like to think that he is perfect at everything, but there's only one thing he takes pride in the most: learning how to make you feel better over the years. He always knows what to do, regardless of the reason why you're down. He knows how to pick you up.

"Toru?" he hears your voice, calling him by his favorite nickname. It makes him blush every time you call him that and he swears his heart picks up too.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Don't you ever get tired of taking care of me?"

"How could you say that?" he asks as he sits up, glaring at you with offended eyes "Of course not, baby. You're my everything, I could never get tired of making you feel good, love. It is also my duty as your lover to ensure your happiness. It's in my contract and everything." he makes you smile fondly, adoring his way of phrasing these things. Because even the hardest of conversations are pleasant when Satoru is there to put things so stupidly.

"Oh yeah? What else is in this contract of yours?"

"That I have to kiss you all the time. And - and that I will have to get you a cat at one point because I know you want one. I have to feed you when you're hungry and I have to do the laundry when you get home late. Oh, and most importantly I always have to split my desserts with you. Only you, not even Suguru gets to do splitsies."

"I see. And what is in my contract?"

"Nothing. You already honored yours." he says curtly and you look at him with confusion.

"How?"

"Well, the only thing in your contract was that you have to be my lover. Nothing else. I'm the one doing the heavy lifting here, every day I get to spend as your significant other is a good day for me. You don't have to do anything else to make me happy." he explains.

You look him in the eyes, your irises filled with nothing but adoration towards the man in front of you. It is so easy to be in love with Gojo Satoru, because he is a gentleman in a world of boys.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Cut Above The Rest

Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Hairdresser!Reader

The Daily Grind (Part 4)

Summary:After a heavy night of drinking, Robin assures you that she knows the perfect cure for a hangover. Things also start looking up for you as a new client comes your way. (sorry I suck at summaries!)

Word Count:1,216 (sorry it's a short one this time.)

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

Masterlist Series Masterlist

You wake up on Saturday morning with your head a little worse for wear as you stumble into the living room where Robin is already dropping two Alka-Seltzers into a tall glass of water and sliding it towards you.

"Remind me again why I let you talk me into doing shots?" You cringe, sipping on the fizzy water.

"I told you that you needed to let loose." She smiled, finishing off her own glass of water. "Come on! Drink up and get dressed. I know the actual cure for a hangover, and it's a piping hot coffee and pastry from Steamy Beans.

You down the last of your water, and make your way to your room to get changed, whilst  Robin patiently waits for you in the living room.

You make your way out of your room, deciding on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater to avoid the chill of the late September air.

Grabbing your purse you both begin making your way out of the apartment towards the café. 

Sure enough there it is, the café’s logo painted on the front window, and a red neon welcome sign hangs above the door.

Walking in you’re immediately hit with the inviting aromatic scent of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet sugary pastries.

“Morning Stevie!” Robin shouts brightly to the man behind the counter, causing the few people who were already here, assumedly trying to enjoy their morning coffee in peace, to turn their heads her way.  

“Good morning to you too, Robin.” the man sighs with a smile. 

Steve, or Stevie, which you’re assuming is Robin’s affectionate pet name for him as your eyes catch his name printed on the little pin-badge that’s pinned to his light brown apron, smiles your way as he introduces himself. He runs a large hand through his mousey brown hair, brushing back the strands that seem to flop in front of his face with a quiet huff.

You introduce yourself to him, smiling as you give him a 'good morning' of your own.

“We used to work together back in the day.” Robin smiles with a playful nudge of her elbow in your arm.

“Yeah, nothing bonds two people more than scooping ice-cream all summer.” Steve laughs sarcastically. “So what’ll it be for you ladies this morning?”

“I’ll take my usual cappuccino and a cinnamon roll when you're ready, Steve." Robin says handing him the money.

Your eyes pour over the sweet treats on display for a moment before you make your decision.

"And I think I'll have a latte and a blueberry muffin please!" You smile handing him over  your money too.

"Okay! Coming right up! Take a seat and I'll bring it right over to you in a moment."

You and Robin take a seat by the window, watching as the daily comings and goings of Hawkins push through their morning.

"Have you had any luck with the job advertisement?" Robin asks.

"No, not yet." You slouch in your seat. It seemed as though no one in Hawkins needed their hair cut, or styled for that matter. "..But I'm trying to remain hopeful." 

"There you go, one cappuccino and a cinnamon roll for you.." Steve says, unloading his tray and placing Robin's order down on the table in front of her. '..and one latte and blueberry muffin for you." he says, placing your order down in front of you. “Enjoy!” He flashes you a friendly smile before he turns around to get back to work.

Robin quickly snaps her neck around before Steve can leave. Her eyes widen and her eyebrows raise up, you were already well aware of the look that was currently gracing your best friend’s face. She’d had an idea.

“Hey! Dingus! Come back here for a minute!” Robin shouts out to Steve.

“What’s up, Rob?” Steve nods for Robin to continue.

“Weren’t you telling me how you were in a desperate need of a haircut?” 

“Yeah..” he drags out, not following where she was going with her line of questioning.

“Well, look no further, Stevie!” Robin exclaimed, as she gestured towards you. “What? You said you were taking on new clients? What better head of hair to get back to work with than this glorious mane right here!”

"Wait, you do haircuts? Like professionally?"

“Yup!” you say, popping the p as you nod. "Have done for a few years but I moved back here and all my clients are back in Chicago, so I'm looking to build up a new client base."

“Please I’m actually desperate at this point.” he pleads.

“Well I can come by your place on Monday if you like?” you offer.

“Thank you so much! You’re an absolute life-saver! The woman at the salon who I usually trust to do my hair moved away a few months back, and I tried going to the barbers on 7th Street but then I backed out when they came at me with the clippers. Never again.” he explained as he recounted his memory with a shudder, seemingly it had been quite the traumatic experience for him.

“Steve’s very protective over his hair. I mean so much so that it became part of his nickname.” Robin explains with a laugh at her friend’s expense. “Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington.” Robin snorts with laughter with her fingers sarcastically doing air-quotes.

“IT’S MY BEST FEATURE, ROBIN.” Steve defends vehemently.

“Well I promise you’re in safe hands with me, Steve. No clippers will be coming your way I can assure you."

"Thanks again! I should be going, I've got customers to serve!" and with that Steve dashes off back to work.

"Well there's your first client to get the ball rolling!" Robin said, mumbling as she took a bite of her cinnamon roll. “Now what’s happening with you and Eddie tomorrow, huh? Isn’t he supposed to be taking you on some big fancy date?”

“It’s just two people hanging out, casually, having some fun together. Nothing serious.” you explained. You downplayed it, but you were actually really excited. Getting to hang-out with Eddie like this was something that you were looking forward to, and you could only hope that he was as excited about it as you were.

“Sounds a lot like a date if you ask me” Robin scoffs as she rolls her eyes, sipping her coffee. “Remind me where he’s taking you?”

“He texted me again last night saying he was going to pick me up from your place tomorrow at five. Said he’s taking me to a fall festival.” you say, picking a few bites from your muffin

“That’s cute! What are you going to wear?” 

“I hadn’t thought about that, probably something really casual. It’s not like we’re going to a fancy restaurant or anything” You truly hadn’t given much thought to what you were going to wear. What was the appropriate thing to even wear to a fall festival you muse as you drink the final few sips of your coffee.

Robin finishes up her drink and gathers her things before she starts to leave.

“Wait! Where are you off too?” you ask, twisting around in your seat to look at your friend.

“We are going shopping to find you an outfit, because you, my dear friend, have a date tomorrow.”

@sunflowerdaydreamer @xxhellfiregirlxx @penguinsandpotterheads @munsonology @seatnights @avalon-wolf @jesssssmaybankk @ali-r3n

[oh-saints]

Would you write a fluffy imagine for Benji Pavard? Like having a little french session and he kisses reader after they get something right? <3

ahjjsskdkl 🤯🤯🤯 oh to be taught by ben.........

but hope you like it nonny! <3

lesson

French is notorious for being a hard language to master and knowing this, your boyfriend is more than happy to provide an extra motivation for you…

benjamin pavard x you

tw: google-translated French words so pls cmiiw

wc: 0.8k

note: this was fun to write but also the hardest bcs I’ve forgotten the French lessons I had during high school. damn, so old. but anyway, I happen to write this during my layover so this is not yet beta-read.

request still open until tonight & you can submit them here!

it was a rather slow day for ben.

having won another Bundesliga trophy, thomas tuchel granted his players a cut to their slacks for this entire day—knowing his players must’ve celebrated wildly at their favourite local pub till the wee hours in the morning—before continuing another rigorous session tomorrow.

so ben decided to surprise you at home with some of the pastry delicacies you’d come to love from his favourite bakery—which was rather hard, finding an authentic French bakery in munich—and your favourite tub of ice cream. your choice of hangover remedy was odd, he found at first, but now he couldn’t ask for anything else to cure his buzzing head.

ben was expecting you to be sprawled in your working station—which happened to be the coffee table in the living room—with sheets and papers and numbers all over the place, as usual, so he was the one getting surprised at the only sight of your laptop and your hair was not tied in a pucca bun. the latter would’ve meant you were dealing your work with stress and that would’ve been something he could take on well by now.

“gauche means left…” you spoke to yourself as you jotted down the meaning. “droit means right… so that means c'est à gauche du four?” (it’s to the left of the oven)

“c’est à côté de four sounds better, no?” (it’s next to the oven)

you were startled at ben’s voice, the owner placing down his shopping bag at the kitchen island. you panicked instantly—not because you thought it could be somebody else, but that would mean ben just found out about your little secret. the one that you’d been working on since you started dating him six months ago.

“ben!” you jumped to your feet, albeit standing awkwardly because you weren’t ready to reveal the reason why you were enrolling yourself to a French lesson. “I don’t know you’re coming home early.”

“coach dismissed us early,” ben chuckled at your weird stance, noticing your nerves, so instead of getting his usual welcoming embrace from you, he was the one who pulled you to his arms. “too many of his players left their heads at the club.”

fuck your initial thoughts, your mind was being taken over by your favourite scent—ben after showering with a bit of his perfume spray—and your favourite kind of warmth exuding from your boyfriend’s body. naturally, you hugged him back, your hands trying to reach one another at ben’s back.

“never thought you’re picking up French, ma chérie,” he placed a well-positioned kiss on the crown of your head. “tu t’en sors?” (how are you managing?)

“pas trop, non,” not really, you replied and ben smiled wider, despite you not being able to see them. for someone who was previously confused about left and right, you were doing better than average in accent and simple phrases like this. “can you help me out?”

“thought you’d never ask,” and when you flashed him those eyes that reminded him of a lost puppy, he was a goner. he didn’t think he could ever say no to that, so cute he could die. instead of dying, though, he kissed your lips. “what topic are we covering today?”

“I’m having troubles with directions...” you said sheepishly as you sat back down, him following suit. “you know I’m generally not good with them too.”

ben laughed because you were right. you and maps shouldn’t belong in the same room without assistance. but he pecked your cheeks anyway. “but I’m already proud of you figuring out how this whole feminine and masculine thing, just so you know, okay?”

a praise from the native certainly uplifted your mood again. you were on the verge of breaking down before ben stepped into the house because god damn, that was difficult. if you weren’t planning on giving him a surprise for their 1st anniversary, you would’ve given up.

but later, you realised that it was rather ben’s preferred method of teaching. he never scolded you if you got any of the pronunciations or the articles wrong, he just corrected you gently. whenever you nailed a difficult word, you’d always get praises from him. and whenever you figured out a sentence on your own, your boyfriend would always add a kiss at the end of his praise.

“bien joué, ma chérie!” well done, my love and followed by a peck, was the most common form of his praise.

but there was also times when he was truly blooming in joy and proud as you aced a more complicated sentence, both by structure and by grammar, on top of not getting confused between left and right. that was when he slipped in a longer sentence because he knew you love his kisses so much, anywhere everywhere.

“félicitations, mon amour,” he whispered after giving you a longer, deeper, more deserving kiss before diving in again for another peck. “tu l’as bien mérité.” (congratulations, my love. you deserve it.)

you really should’ve asked for his tutelage in the first place instead of subscribing to duolingo if this was what you’d get every French lesson.

[decimal86]

Failtopia Headcanons 2

Title says it all. Gonna say now that this list is a mix of serious and non-serious ideas, plus a few ideas for post-S2. Shared a lot of these with one of my mutuals, but I figured I'd share more with all of y'all. Enjoy!

While all fitting for warriors of some kind, there are a few minor specific differences in Erica, Orion, and Bob's starter gear. (Ex. Orion's armor is more well-kept and matching, since he was part of the royal guard. Meanwhile, Erica's is more worn down and mismatched since she at this point doesn't know how to maintain it and likely bought it on a budget from how much of a spur-of-the-moment decision it was.)

Bo's weird floating hands are more akin to an incorporeal extra pair to grab otherwise untouchable objects and interact with other undeads. Essentially, that one D&D ability, Mage Hand.

Due to being part fish, Shrimp is more heat sensitive than the rest of the cast. Neksdor would hypothetically be tough but doable, while Karkaton or the Powdered Peaks would be almost impossible if traversing alone. Luckily, she's not :D

Orion takes Slapo out trick-or-treating with whatever costumes she wants, so long as they're appropriate. One year, she was a brick. After S2, Chat and Petunyawn go, too with C!Failboat accompanying the latter.

Erica spent weeks after Bo's transformation into a vampire trying to raise her defense so her partner wouldn't have to stress over piercing her flesh while kissing and accidentally turning her into an undead.

Mar has an alcohol tolerance higher than any other living thing, being a demon, and thus has never been intoxicated. Still, he does his best to cure whatever hangovers may the others have with only the finest recipes he knows; if there's one thing he was passionate about since the start of his redemption arc, it's food.

Erica and C!Failboat remain close friends as, despite their less than ideal relationship in S1, Fail was Erica's first true friend after her string of terrible parties, and similarly, Erica was one of the first people that made him consider as more than a character—a real person, with struggles and emotions—that made him try taking his job seriously.

Deko now lives a quiet life in an off-the-map village somewhere in the Fey Realm. He works as a scout, finally able to live out his wish to help protect a community without fighting gods or being stuck in an overly tight demon suit. He also makes sketches and edgy poetry in his free time.

Chi celebrated her 21st birthday with a bowl of whiskey-flavored ice cream but, surprisingly, never felt any ill effects besides slight dizziness and a sugar crash.

Part of Piranhyawn being a terrible boyfriend comes simply from his species not requiring two individuals to mate, with both he and his daughter being a product of budding. (Note: not a justification, only an explanation)

Lanc was forced to learn how to play piano from their royal background—however, they dropped it and now play the accordion in their off time. Chi, of course, loves it.

C!Failboat actually does own some other clothes besides the cat onesie: a single white anchor-patterned button-up with jeans and tennis shoes, plus a full-on captain's uniform for some reason. He only wears it when the cat suit's in the wash.

While they haven't met yet, I'm certain Slapo and Purple Shep would get along perfectly.

I'm not sure if post-game can even be considered canon anymore, but the Deltarune fan song Megalo Clamour plays in Spamtang's head when he fights. Like the canon character's theme, but slightly more put-together and malicious.

Erica's actually more skilled with a spear than a sword, but only learns how to use it after the finale due to getting more free time to perfect her fighting style.

Chi has an excellent singing voice. Nobody knows why, not even Chi herself.

And that's all for now! Might do a part 3, but thank you for reading.

[stardustndreamsofsilver]

Are You Ready To Talk

Josh x Reader (f)

Find All Parts Here

Warnings: implied alcohol consumption, cursing

As the warm morning light flooded your room, you yawned and stretched. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, it all came flooding back.

Josh saying he loved you and wanted more than just friendship. Josh trying to kiss you. You stopping him.

Taking a deep breath, you shake your head. He probably won't even remember what happened, you thought.Sighing, you get out of bed and head to the kitchen.

Just as you finish making your cup of coffee, you hear your phone go off in the other room. Grabbing your mug, you walk back to check your phone. Picking it up off the nightstand, you unlock it and see it's a message from Josh.

Josh: Hey can I come over? I'm in dire need of my birdy's hangover cure.

Me: Yeah, come on over. I'll start making it now.

You knew it. He didn't remember. It's probably for the best. At least this way, your friendship would stay unaffected.

Walking back to the kitchen, you start making cheddar bacon spinach egg muffins. Once those were in the oven, you got out all the ingredients for frozen mocha. After making a shot of espresso, you pour it in the blender and ice, vanilla ice cream, white chocolate syrup, dark chocolate syrup and milk. Turning on the blender, you turn to grab some cups.

When you turn, you see Josh standing there. Letting out a yelp and knocking into the counter, you hold your chest trying to calm your racing heart. All the while Josh is laughing historically.

Turning off the blender, you turn and say, "You scared the shit out of me! When did you get here?”

“I’m sorry. I just got here. Thank you for this by the way. You’re the best.” He says with a smile, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s no problem.” You say as the oven timer goes off. “Hey can you grab some cups while I get the food?”

He nods and goes to grab them. You grab an oven mitt and go to grab the egg muffins.  As you’re bending down to open the oven door, Josh brushes against you. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you quickly get out the can and sit it on the stove. Taking a deep breath, you go grab plates and forks. 

Sitting everything out on the table, you ask Josh if he wants some fruit with his breakfast. He shrugs his shoulders and says sure.

Once everything is plated, you sit across from Josh and motion for him to eat. The two of you enjoy your breakfast in silence. After Josh finishes the last of his, he wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Bird, that was amazing. Almost as amazing as you.” He says with a wink.

Rolling your eyes, you say thanks and grab the dishes to put them in the sink. You decide you’ll wash them later. Turning around, you ask, “Hey, what are your plans for today?”

“Nothing really, I thought about doing some grocery shopping, but honestly I think I’ll just wait until tomorrow.” He replies.

“Want to hang out with me and watch old movies? It’s my day off and I missed hanging out with you while you were gone. Plus there’s a movie I wanted to watch with you.” You say.

“I’d love to bird. What movie?” He asks.

“Barefoot in the Park. It has Jane Fonda and Robert Redford in it.”

“Sounds good to me, lead the way my lady.” He says motioning for you to walk ahead.

Walking into the living room, you go over and grab your laptop and hook it up to your tv. Once everything is set up, you hit play and go sit next to Josh on the couch. Once you’re seated, Josh grabs your legs and places them across his lap. Throughout the movie, Josh gently rubs your legs. Only occasionally rubbing high enough to make your heart flutter. 

This is just Josh being Josh. He definitely doesn’t remember last night or he would’ve said something by now, you thought. Once the movie ended, the two of you stayed just as you were. Just as you swung your legs off his lap and were about to get up and pull up another movie, Josh grabs your hand and says, “I meant what I said last night. Are you ready to talk?”

[curlysgirl0202]

When Curly Bill Fell in Love (in progress)

When a beautiful single mother arrives in Tombstone from California, she becomes the town's most desirable woman. Not only beautiful, but a wonderful mother and she is kind to everyone. Curly Bill desperately wants to court her and so does John Behan, who will do anything to be with her and when Behan forces himself into her life, Curly quickly sees the opportunity to be her rescuer. 

When Curly Bill woke up on that Sunday morning, his head was pounding from a night of heavy drinking. He and his gang of cowboys had been spending their ill gotten gains all around Tombstone; they frequented the bars for whiskey and to spend time with the pretty soiled doves, they ate well at the local restaurants and gambled away their money or doubled their dollars playing poker and faro. Curly Bill, the King of the Cowboys strutted through the streets of Tombstone, baiting the local law enforcement by taunting them by refusing to give up his guns. Curly Bill liked the fear he evoked in citizens and law enforcement agents; he knew they wouldn't dare to try to disarm him.

That never stopped the Cowboys from riding into town after a drive their pistols blazing into the air while they hooted and howled until they found a place to clean up, buy new clothes or have clothes laundered and spend their earnings at the houses of fallen angels.

Curly Bill woke up later than usual with one of the worst headaches he could remember. His head pounded from the tornado juice he downed the night before in an attempt to cure his mind of a lovely vision he could not shake. He emerged from his tent, limping from his hangover and from sleeping on the hard ground. He looked around and saw a few cowboys still slumbering off their barrel fever. He stumbled to a small fire that was burning out and picked up the coffee pot. He poured himself a cup and downed it quickly and looked around for something to eat. He rummaged through the chuck and found some jerky. He munched it and poured more coffee. He knew the hotel would not be serving breakfast and they did not serve lunch until one o'clock. He didn't want to go for the free chuck at some of the older saloons. He put his boots on, brushed his unruly hair with his hands and mounted his Appaloosa. He rode into town and went to the restaurant and ordered breakfast, although it was close to noon.

Pistol Joe, a self proclaimed reformed man walked to Curly's table; the restaurant seemed slower than usual and although the citizens conversed with each other, they ignored Bill unless they were taking turns giving the outlaw looks that bordered on disgust. Pistol Joe poured coffee.

"You thinkin about a reform, Curly?" The waiter asked, eyeing the other patrons. "It ain't easy at first," Joe began. "The way folks look atchya when ya enter their place of worship."

"Not now, Joe," Curly answered, taking a sip of coffee.

"Well, I spect so, cowboy. I'll bring you the usual. Lessen you want something else sides steak and eggs."

Curly gave the waiter a look and Joe turned and left.

"Ain't never too late to give yerself over to the light," he said as he walked into the kitchen.

When Pistol Joe returned with Curly's breakfast, he asked, "What's with you, cowboy? Some of your friends have already been here. You're usually the first one in, laughing off your barrel fever with them boys. You sick or thinking about reforming, Ace?"

Curly began eating and did not bother looking at Pistol Joe, who left quickly.

Curly cursed his headache. He felt disgusted with himself because he was not able to stop drinking. He finished his breakfast and set out to find members of his red sash gang. He knew as early as it was that they were already drinking up the town.

The streets were busy with folks moving through the boomtown, some on their way to gambling houses and others headed to the restaurant or the ice cream parlor or to the social clubs where people of substance could puff on expensive cigars and drink more expensive cognac. Members of the community eyed Curly like they always did and usually he would like to indulge their concerns with a wink and a tip of his hat. On this day, he felt different...Almost vulnerable. The old cowboy shook it off and figured without Ringo around, he didn't know who to talk to about the affliction he was experiencing.

He went into the Dead End, a bar at the end of Allen Street, where some of the older saloons were. He saw Ike and Billy Clanton drinking beer and looking at some of the soiled doves. Florentino Cruz, Stillwell, Indian Charlie and McMasters were talking to other whores and offering to buy drinks.

Big Nellie, an older lady who was large and loved to eat sat at one end of the cantina helping herself to the free chuck. She indignantly indulged in the beans, rice and meat that the bar offered up at no charge.

At the other end of the bar, a few of the Fletcher boys sat, draining whiskey and sharing stories of daring feats. "I robbed that bank in broad daylight faster than any of them James boys!" Pete Fletcher boasted.

Sad Sally, a young woman who never seemed to smile, looked at Billy Clanton and then slowly rose to meet him halfway. The young buck chuckled and followed her up the stairs, admiring her curves. She turned and her blond hair flowed free her sad green eyes looked the cowboy up and down. Ike looked over at Mary Ann, who ran the whores of the Dead End. He pulled some cash out his pocket and she moved closer to him. Ike looked up from the stool he was sitting and his eyes grew wide when he noticed her bosom and the smell of her perfume. Ike laughed sheepishly and eyed the woman as she fanned herself and moved toward the stairs. He smiled at Curly and left with her. Red, one of the other whores looked at Curly and smiled. Her fiery red hair hung to the middle of her back and her cute face was covered in freckles. She fanned herself and wandered over to the cowboy.

"You look like you could use some comfort, cowboy."

Curly looked at her and normally would have been delighted to take her up on her offer, but he couldn't bring himself to. "Maybe when my head feels better," he mumbled.

"I got a cure for that, fella. You know it all costs the same."

"I'll keep that in mind." Curly did not feel like waiting for the Clanton's to be done, he could already hear the two cowboys hooting and shouting.

"What's it for polite conversation?" Curly asked Red, who turned and laughed.

"People go elsewhere for that, Curly!" She retorted.

"As long I'm drinking hooch, I'm spending money in here," Curly growled.

Red looked him up and down.

"Suit yourself, cowboy. But I can't make heads or tails of whatever is spinning through that mind of yours. When you first got here, you and your boys were in here all the time. I told you your credit is good here. Your credit is always good here," Red said, putting a hand on his leg. Curly was tempted, but his mind could not escape the vision of a woman who had weakened his nerve.

"Wish I never saw her..." Curly whispered.

"Saw who?" Red asked, opening her fan to cool herself.

Curly shook his head. "You wouldn't understand," he answered. "Specially in the business you're in."

"Well," Red began. "That's why I come here. To make money. Now are you paying for more than some hooch?" She demanded.

"I ain't paying for that," Curly said as he rose from the stool.

Red laughed out loud. "if you ain't paying, you ain't gettin! Don't forget who you are, cowboy. We're from the same side and it ain't never gonna be no different."

Curly reached for the bottle and poured himself one last drink.

"Well, Red," Tom Claury began. "I'm in need of some lady comfort. You can go first, Curly."

"He ain't payin," Frank answered, puffing on his cigar.

"Then he ain't gettin," Red said again.

"Lay off Curly," McMasters said. He flashed a look at the older cowboy.

"Have fun drinking hooch," Tom said as he left with the whore.

McMasters poured drinks for himself and Curly. McMasters raised his glass to Curly Bill. "Here's to bow-legged women!"

Curly took the glass and smiled.

He guzzled it and slapped the shot glass on the bar and turned to leave. He could not shake the feeling of vulnerability. He never had anyone to truly care about, except for this red sash boys. He could live without a few of them and now with Ringo in California, the big rustler just moved through the town, his headache slowly going away. Pony Diehl and Indian Charlie walked a few steps behind Bill and for a few moments. Curly felt his blood begin pumping. The town was lined with all sorts of shops; antique shops, a bookstore, hardware and general merchandise, a liquor shop, a large bank and assay office, three gun stores and other places such as a teahouse, a museum and a small library.

Curly looked over at Pony. "Books! There ain't nothing in books," Curly guffawed loudly and his companions joined in. "Some folks waste all their time reading books. Where's the funnin' in reading books?" Curly flicked his tongue and began to feel like he felt when he first arrived in Tombstone; eager to enjoy everything the town had to offer. His head was spinning from whiskey and his emotions were deadened a bit. So what if he had to pay for comfort? Better than being a lonely fool...

"I'm feeling like I wanna..." Curly began. "Where's the Chinese medicine man? I need to get sozzled." Pony and Indian Charlie watched their boss walk quickly to the opium tent.

"Hey, China Man!"

The sun began setting on the town as Curly sat in the tent and took a few puffs on the pipe that was passed to him. The medicine mad held one hand and Curly gave the old timer some cash. His mind began to spin and Curly Bill chuckled softly while laying on a make shift bed, letting his mind wander. When he closed his eyes, eddies of color whirled around him like a spring scene with hundreds of butterflies. A soft sun shone down on plush green grass and he could feel himself reeling with wonder and euphoria. He laid his head and decided to stay and enjoy these visions. A woman began rubbing his black hair and his eyes closed as a secret dream bloomed in his mind. He moved through the green grass which seemed to grow around him and then shrink back and rise up again. The butterflies surrounded him and he reached out to touch them, but they fluttered quickly away. The hands massaging his head along with the kaleidoscope of beauty drive him to breathe heavily. "Danielle," he whispered. "Come on." He turned and saw her face, her hair blowing in the breeze, her yellow dress flowing with the summer air. Her arms were out and she walked towards him, her lips turning into a gentle smile. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She pulled away and ran from him, inviting him to chase her. He laughed and ran after her, not able to keep up. She turned and smiled, holding her dress with her hands. Curly could almost smell the sweet floral and citrus perfume that emitted from her warm body. She turned to face him and she began taking her dress off.

"Niúzǎi!" The Chinaman shouted.

Curly looked over at the medicine man and then noticed the woman who had been rubbing his head. "Where is she?" Curly asked, covering his eyes.

"Time up, niuzai!"

Curly rose slowly and exited the tent. He stumbled to the Oriental and walked dizzily to the bar where Ugly Dave eyed him cautiously.

"You feelin alright, Curly?" Ugly Dave asked. "You ain't been in that China tent, have you?" Ugly Dave leaned over eyed the cowboy. "I don't want no trouble in here!"

Curly grinned and flicked his tongue. "What trouble? I'm feeling great, Ugly. I don't want to cause you no trouble. I don't want to cause no one no trouble. Just wish I never saw..."

Curly recollected the conversation he had with some of his boys from the night before. He had been drinking with the Clanton's and McClaury's, McMasters, Indian Charlie, Barnes and Stillwell. Curly mentioned the woman who came to Tombstone just a few weeks prior. A woman named Danielle had arrived in Tombstone and she quickly gained the attention of many of the men in Tombstone-including Curly Bill. When Curly saw her step off the stage, he became entranced and could not take his eyes off of her. Her dark hair flowed to her shoulders and he could see her soft, liquid eyes as they looked around. He was tempted to go help or, but Billy Breckenridge and Behan beat him to it. Curly Bill saw Behan hold his hand out to help her and she accepted with a skeptical look on her face. Her beautiful daughter exited the stage and when Behan tried to pick her up, Curly noticed her mother quickly take the girl in her arms. Billy motioned where the hotel was and she followed him and Behan, holding her daughter, who seemed to be falling asleep. Then Curly watched them disappear into the hotel. He glanced over a few of his cowboys who were standing there watching their boss drool over the newcomer.

"What the hell are y'all staring at?" Curly growled. Ike Clanton took his hat off and wiped the sweat off his brow. "She's mighty pretty, Curly," he sighed.

"Hold your horses, Curly," Tom McClaury grinned. "I don't think she's like us or looking for anyone like us." He shot tobacco out of the side of his mouth.

She stayed at the hotel, but visited Fred White often with her daughter. The old marshal loved having a lovely woman help him and her sweet little girl seemed to enjoy having Fred in her life and he treated the girl like she was his granddaughter. Bill made the mistake of talking about Danielle to Billy and Ike, Stillwell, Barnes and the McClaury's and it became evident about how the big rustler felt about her. Frank McClaury snickered. "We all seen her. Behan's been following her around looking to show her a hog killin time. Ain't she a ramera, Curly?"

"Shut your mouth, Frank," Curly growled. "She ain't like that. Anyone can see that."

Frank shook his head and lit a cigar. "We're cowboys and we rustle cattle. Why the hell would a self respectin lady want that?" Frank blew smoke from his cigar. "You ain't hoping to court her, are you?" Frank asked, looking over at Stillwell who took a swig from his whiskey flask and eyed Curly Bill inquisitively.

"You don't know nothing about it," Curly snapped.

"Shut up, beef head!" Stillwell remarked, staring down Frank McClaury.

"Oh the hell with y'all!" The cowboy shouted as he made his way towards the batwings.

"Your brother needs his ass whooped," McMasters said quietly, staring at Tom McClaury.

McMasters watched Curly as he left and walked slowly to where his Appaloosa was. His mind stirred up memories of her.

He saw a second time at Fred White’s small home. Apparently, she left California with her child, Dominique, a three year old with the same large brown eyes as her mother. Curly had gone to Fred’s place to check on the town Marshal; Fred was hoping to keep peace between the Cowboys and the Earp's and wanted to know if he could count on Curly Bill to keep his boys from causing too much trouble.

The Cowboys were known for riding into boomtowns after a drive of rustling stolen cattle and spending their plunder. Most of the time, Curly Bill kept a good watch on his boys, but other times, no matter how many times he argued, “This won’t do boys,” sometimes, it fell on the deaf ears of his red sash gang members. These men had lived outside the law after the end of the civil war. It was 1881 and the civil war had been over for sixteen years, but to men like Curly and the many others that were outlaws, it was not over. Johnny Ringo, Curly’s lieutenant rode with the James-Younger Gang and they robbed the railroads and stagecoaches, “collecting” what they considered payback from those damn Jayhawkers and Yankees that destroyed their way of life. The Cowboys endured the horrors of war and the aftermath of watching everything they loved be plummeted by the Union they despised.

When Curly and Pony Diehl were serving time in a Union camp after being captured for shooting a Union guard, the two outlaws were tied up to posts with their arms over their heads for long periods of time and the guards watched the summer insects swarm around them. Curly Bill and Pony managed to escape when one of the guards slipped them a hacksaw to cut through their chains. They stole two horses from an Apache camp and rode like hell.

Now Curly Bill Brocius was letting his mind wander and flow freely with thoughts of a mysterious woman who caught his attention. Curly Bill thought he knew what a beautiful woman would be like; then he saw Danielle exit the stage a little over a month ago. When he first saw her, his mouth fell open and he simply admired her from afar.

He did not even know her name upon seeing her and he had no idea anyone was coming in on the stage that day. He saw her again at Fred White's house several days later and she was more beautiful than he remembered. He recalled how he entered the house and noticed the beautiful Danielle sitting at the table, filling a muffin tin with batter. Her dark hair flowed to her shoulders and her large brown eyes looked innocently at him. Her daughter ran into the room and did a somersault on Fred's couch. Danielle’s expression turned to fear and she stood up, crossing her arms and moving close to her daughter. Curly looked down; his hips were decorated with his six shooters and his image of a gunfighter along with his Ace of Spades Calvary boots only added to the ferocity of his appearance.

He realized how he must have looked to her. But he couldn’t help but be intrigued by her large liquid brown eyes, her soft lips and wonderful curves. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words escaped and Curly, for a moment wondered if her mind was flooded with wonder. He dismissed the idea. He knew she was afraid. A woman that beautiful would want nothing to do with him or any of the cowboys. Maybe Ringo, Curly thought.

Women always seemed eager to shower Ringo with affection. Curly reflected on how Ringo seemed to be the perfect gentleman; a gentleman born. Curly envied Ringo’s gentleness towards all women and how effortlessly he courted them. When Curly and Ringo went to houses of soiled doves, the ladies of the night seemed to shower Ringo with affection while they simply did their duties when it came to Curly Bill. They laughed at his jokes and vied for his attention as long as he was buying drinks and squandering away his earnings, but Ringo never seemed to have to partake in any of that. Ringo seemed to have a power over women and even prostitutes offered their services to the gunfighter without expecting payment. Curly Bill never understood how he himself did not possess such a presence. Ringo could read Latin better than Curly could read English and sometimes Curly became frustrated that his “second” in command seemed to know things before he did.

Danielle slowly rose from the table and she seemed to want to back away from him. Curly slowly began to remove his hat and realized he had not said a word to her. Her chest heaved up and down and Curly wanted to move closer to her, but her eyes still welled with fear.

As soon as Curly Bill removed his hat, Fred White walked in. Danielle’s daughter, Dominique ran up to Fred and jumped in his arms. Curly Bill held his hat in his hands watching with wonder in his eyes.

“How’s my best girl?” Fred asked the little girl who suddenly wrapped her arms around Fred and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Too moved to speak, Curly stepped back and admired the scene before him.

“How are both my girls?” Fred asked, moving toward Danielle, who was wiping muffin batter on her apron. Danielle glanced at Curly and then hugged Fred.

“We’re great, Fred!” Danielle answered.

“You get prettier everyday, Danielle!” Fred told the pretty mother.

“Aww! Thank you, Fred!”

Fred put Dominique down and the little girl did a somersault on the throw rug that sat in the middle of the main room of the house. Danielle turned to Curly and smiled and his heart lifted with excitement and he could feel his manliness begin to grow with throbbing curiosity.

“Danielle, this here is Curly Bill! He’s the leader of the Cowboys.” Fred gestured his hand towards the rustler who was grateful that White did not introduce him as an outlaw. He hoped the title, "King of the Cowboys," would stir intrigue within her.

Danielle smiled softly and looked away. Dominique did another somersault onto Fred’s couch and Danielle shrugged and smiled, putting a hand over her mouth in an almost child like manner.

“My daughter,” Danielle said softly. "Dominique."

At that very moment, Behan walked in, tipping his hat to Danielle and giving Curly Bill a harsh look.

“Well,” Curly Bill began. “She’s real pretty.” Curly shifted his feet, feeling insecure and out of place, but tried his best to compose himself.

“Like her mama,” Curly said without thinking.

John Behan chucked.

"And what are you doing here, Curly Bill?" Behan asked.

"I asked Curly here, Behan," White began. "It's between me and his boys. Sides, we ain't looking to bring the county into this anyhow." Fred White took off his hat and wiped his brow.

Curly Bill felt his face and neck grow red and he immediately regretted the compliment. He felt like a fool especially since Behan seemed to be more of the type that Danielle would want to be with. When Curly reflected on his chances with Danielle, he felt a rage that overwhelmed him like a relentless virus.

At first, Curly Bill thought he could put on the charm and win the beautiful mother over, but when he saw the fear he evoked in her, his heart sank. When Behan entered the room, Curly felt even more defeated. He felt like a fool for giving Danielle a compliment and watched how Behan showered Danielle with meaningless compliments and shallow praises.

“What a lovely lady you are and your daughter’s beauty parallels yours!” Behan stated, looking at Fred and Curly Bill.

Behan looked at Danielle's daughter and then tried to put his arm around Danielle. To Curly Bill's amusement, Danielle pulled away from Behan.

"Don't worry about those boys. They won't bother you. "

“I will keep you safe from those Cowboys!” Behan said to Danielle.

Curly Bill’s heart raced at that moment. “Keep her safe? If I had the chance, nobody would ever hurt her!” Curly raged in his mind while he looked at Behan. Behan was an ally to the cowboys, but was also a self-serving jack ass that would gladly throw any of the cowboys under the wagon to save himself. But they needed him and Behan knew that.

Behan sat at the table and looked at the muffin tin filled with batter. "Muffins? I am sure they are delicious."

"I have to put these in the oven, but I do have some that should be ready in a moment." She walked nervously to the kitchen and removed a tray of freshly baked blueberry muffins and put them into a basket. Behan couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He made himself comfortable and took a muffin from the basket. Danielle motioned to Bill. "Please have a seat."

Curly knew he was no competition when it came to Behan; Behan could shower women with eclectic charm, order wine in French, throw money away on lavish trips and jewelry and of course lay on the charm in ways that Curly could never; Behan wore the best suits, smoked the most expensive cigars with a standing order from Cuba, he drank the best whiskey and cognac and was a member of most the organizations within the territory such as the Alliance Against Criminal Activity, Co-Curator of the local museum and a benefactor to a number of up and coming business associates looking to make money in Tombstone real estate. It was this along with his charm that made Curly feel out of place and even jealous of Behan who he thought would take or steal Danielle away from him.

“Ya got no shot with her, cowboy,” Curly mumbled to himself as he watched Danielle.

Danielle to Bill’s relief, did not seem to reciprocate her beau’s affections. If anything, Curly Bill witnessed that she seemed unhappy, stressed and clearly uncomfortable.

“Would you like a muffin?” Danielle asked Curly, her eyes to the ground. Her voice trembled and Curly Bill hoped it was because she was overwhelmed by him and his masculinity, but he soon dismissed the idea because he knew he would never be good enough for her.

Curly Bill, without thinking, answered, “Well, that’d be real nice.” He couldn’t believe how his confidence was cracking; Curly had been in fist fights, had robbed stagecoaches and been in a number of shootouts. None of those events made him as nervous as he was standing in the presence of a beautiful woman who was being pursued by every eligible man in town.

Danielle’s daughter ran to the table and sat on Fred’s lap.

“I want a muffin!” Dominique said while reaching for the basket with freshly baked muffins directly from the oven.

“Ok, but they are still hot,” Danielle said, hugging her daughter.

“I want to put butter on by myself!” Dominique said with confidence and Curly Bill let out a loud chuckle, amused by a little girl’s desire for autonomy.

Danielle looked at Curly Bill and to his relief, she smiled at him. His heart soared.

“Let me help you,” Danielle stated and Curly watched in awe as he observed a mother providing love and life lessons to her child.

"I always appreciate a woman who is a good mother," Behan started, reaching for a muffin from the basket. Curly Bill chuckled to himself when he saw that Danielle did not seem intrigued by the dashing sheriff. Curly Bill looked at Danielle and her daughter and saw how Danielle was obviously rejecting Behan's invitations to flirt.

Curly finished his muffin and washed it down with the coffee Danielle served him. He thanked her and she poured him more coffee. Curly was beginning to feel more confident about winning her over. He hoped that if he continued to get her attention, that he could work some magic into her; magic that would see past a lowly cowboy who never amounted to anything in his life and see the man he wanted to become for her.

"Well," Fred began. "Curly and I got some business to discuss.

"I can take you back to the hotel later if you'd like," Fred continued.

"I can take her," Behan said. Curly Bill hoped she would say no. She shook her head to Bill's relief and simply stated, "Fred can take us." Curly Bill almost offered, but feared what people would think of her if they saw her riding on the back of an Appaloosa with the "King of the Cowboys."

Danielle continued baking until the batter was gone and then she took her daughter outside while Curly Bill and the other two sat, looking at each other.

"She's lovely," Behan said, lighting a cigar.

"She's going to be teaching school in the fall," Fred eyed both men at the table. After they spoke for a while, Behan and Curly Bill rose from the table and left. Curly tipped his hat to Danielle before leaving and she smiled softly at him before letting her gaze fall to the ground, while flipping her hair.

For the next several days, Curly Bill could not stop thinking about her. He felt angry with the gods for sending her; she was like a mirage. You could admire her from afar, but the closer you got, the further out of reach she seemed to be.

Bill imagined rescuing them from peril, shielding them from danger and keeping them safe all while Danielle clings to his shirt with tenacity and confidence in him.

These types of fantasies permeated Curly Bill’s mind and he tossed and turned in his tent at the cowboy camp for hours while attempting to gain a few hours of sleep. He could not find rest as his mind wandered with thoughts of Danielle; he imagined her showing up at his cowboy camp, singing a soft song and sashaying over to his tent, undoing her dress so that it fell off her body, exposing her soft curves and voluptuous body. And then he could have her.

When Curly awoke the next morning, he wondered how long he had been asleep for. He looked around for Ringo and then remembered Ringo went to San Jose to see his family or at least see who was left of his family. Ringo had promised his niece, Judith that he would return to visit her one day and Ringo was not a man to break a promise.

Curly stumbled to his feet and splashed cold water on his face. He could feel his needed a shave and decided to head into town, get a bath, a shave and meet up with the Clanton's and Indian Charlie along with Stillwell and the McLaury's for some fun at the Oriental which always seemed to be the busiest place on Allen Street.

Milt Jice and Ugly Dave tended bar at the Oriental.

When Curly rode into town, he saw Phineas, who was as usual, flipping his knife. Phineas quickly put his knife away and walked to meet Curly Bill, who dismounted his Appaloosa and gave the reins to the kid.

"Some of yer boys was here before asking for ya, Bill. Saying "Son of a Gun" Silas is looking to arrest you for rustling." Phineas took the saddle of the Appaloosa and continued his work at the livery while he talked to Curly.

"Hell, Curly Bill, you don't think they'll lynch you or your boys, do you?" The boy asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Well, we got the Earps and they ain't the lynching type, boy."

Phineas looked unconvinced for a moment and then smiled. "Yeah, I guess they ain't!"

Curly patted the young boy on the back. "Take good care of him, son. He's one of the best things I ever owned."

"You got him from a Comanche?" Phineas asked, his eyes wide with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, kid. I'm just damn lucky no one has stolen him from me." The rustler chuckled. "I'm the one good at stealing and stealing was always one thing I was good at."

“They’re gonna arrest Curly!” Ike whined.

The bartender, Ugly Dave, stood behind the bar, eyeing the patrons with the one good eye he had left. He lost his eye in a handkerchief duel and now spent his days managing the meanest places in the town ‘too tough to die!” Curly walked through the batwings and strolled up to the bar. A few stools sat in front of the cherry wood counter that was lined with cowboys drinking up their wages. Beside some of Curly's boys were some members of the Fletcher Gang, a group of stage coach robbers who came to Tombstone more for the female element.

"Them Earp's are telling everybody you and Ringo robbed the Pine City Stage and that you rustled 200 cows from Grady's Ranch!" Ike continued.

“No they ain’t” Curly Bill retorted. “I ain’t done nothing to be arrested for. Hell, they should be grateful. Our rustling of Messican stock brought money to this town and they oughta thank us.” “Let them arrest me. I ain’t done nothing,” Curly moaned, holding his head with both hands.

"Sides, Ringo ain't even here and you know how them Earp's are about fairness," Curly flicked his tongue and chuckled.

"I don't want no trouble, boys," Ugly Dave said, pointing a finger at the cowboys.

"You ain't got that," Curly snapped. "You're getting fat off of us boys!"

Ugly Dave turned and continued filling drink orders.

"They ain't got nothing," Curly Bill said, reaching for the whiskey bottle and pouring himself a shot. After draining his cup, he helped himself to another.

Barnes and Stillwell eyed some of the ladies of the night that walked in; Strawberry Jane and Injun Sue walked in, flaunting their merchandise and moving close to Barnes and Stillwell. Stillwell took a swig from his whiskey flask and pulled some cash out his pocket. Barnes slapped a few dollars on the bar to pay for his and McMaster's drinks and they tipped their hats to the prostitutes. The cowboys followed the ladies upstairs. Curly Bill looked over at Ugly Dave, who was counting the till, a cigar hanging from his mouth.

"Ever been in love, Ugly?" Curly asked in a drunken voice. Curly shook his head and sighed.

"Sure, I was once and it was a damn sickness," Ugly answered. "Made me crazy with thinkin'! She was a beauty too. Why you think men like us wind up places like this? We ain't got nothing to take care of." He blew smoke from his cigar. "And no one to take care of us. Hell, Curly! You may find yourself working as a bar dog one of these days."

Ugly Dave didn't bother to look at Curly Bill, who shook his head. It would be nice to have something or someone to care for...

Some of his cowboys came back downstairs several moments later and they downed a few shots before exiting the batwings and firing their pistols in the air. Curly followed, drew his pistols and began shooting the red lights that decorated the establishments on that side of town.

Curly blazed away and growled while hooting with McMasters, the Clanton's, McClaury's and a few others. They mounted their horses and rode like hell up and down Allen Street.

"Let's give em a show, boys" Curly shouted, feeling hot blooded and young. He reloaded his pistols and continued shooting at anything that moved, relishing in the fear he evoked. He could hear the triumphant sounds of Indian Charlie, Barnes and the others.

"They ain't gonna take our guns!" Barnes shouted, waving both pistols in the air.

"Hell they ain't, boys!" Curly Bill yelled.

(After hours of drinking and gambling and telling the same stories, Curly Bill and some other cowboys including the Clanton's and McClaury's and McMasters and a few others left and went to the Grand Hotel to have dinner. When they stumbled in, they saw Danielle standing in the lobby, holding her daughter, her eyes wide with fear. ) to be moved

"Ma'am. I understand. But we can't give you no more credit."

"But I am going to start teaching in the fall," Danielle answered. (to be moved later)

Curly and his boys spent the next several hours drinking up the town and shooting at everything that caught their attention before heading back to the end of Allen Street to continue their party. Indian Charlie and Pony Diehl lifted their bottles of tarantula juice and cheered to their treeing. The other cowboys hooted and laughed while they bragged about how they would never surrender their firearms.

"They ain't gonna tell us what to do, are they, Curly?" Ike whined. "We'll show them Earp's, won't we?" Ike continued.

"Hell!" Curly began. "They ain't gonna do anything. Them boys profit off us! Sides, they ain't got nothing on me," the rustler continued. He took another drink and let his mind wander.

"You still thinking bout that cunt from Fred's-" Pony Diehl began.

"God damnit!" McMasters yelled back, "You lucky Ringo ain't here!" Pony shook his head and let out a shameful chuckle. "Yeah, I forget how touchy Ringo is about that. About women I mean," Pony rubbed his hands together and finished what was left in his glass.

Curly slowly rose to his feet. "Ringo ain't here. But I'm here, you bastard." Curly said with odd conviction in his voice.

"It's ain't hard to see that Danielle comes from a good family. Hell, maybe they even disowned her for gettin' a divorce and now she's got no family to help her and she's alone with a daughter. Why should Danielle have to work like that? It ain't bad bein' a school teacher. But when folks find out she ain't married, they may force her out and you think Behan would help her? That bastards would just use her. I know what I would do!" Curly raged.

"What are you gonna do, Curly Bill?" Frank McClaury taunted. Curly wanted to slap the younger cowboy; not punch or knock out, just slap.

"If you don't shut your mouth, Frank, you're going to be sorry!"

Curly nearly spilled his drink when he heard Wyatt Earp’s authoritarian voice and the echoes of laughter that trailed behind him that came from his brothers and of course Doc Holliday, who owed Wyatt as many favors as Wyatt owed him and their friendship although was an enigma to his brothers was a friendship both men valued and neither one would abandon a friend in need. Curly wasn't scared of the Earp's; they were a threat to the cowboy way of life and their damn holier than thou dispositions were misplaced as they did what the cowboys did, but had badges. Doc would never let Wyatt enter into a fight without him at least knowing about it. So naturally, Doc accompanied the Earp's while they strolled the streets with their self righteousness that drove Curly Bill and Ringo crazy. The certainty in their demeanor and how they were so sure of themselves; they often looked at the cowboys with derision that did not seem to fit with their self assurance. And that bothered men like Ringo and Curly Bill; it was not just that Earp's were interfering with their business; they were so sanctimonious and were sure they would win over the cowboys and that bothered them more than anything.

“Our local law. "Curly moaned, his head pounding. “I need to get some sleep.”

“I need to get out of here,” Curly growled.

“And go where,” Frank McClaury asked. He flashed a grin at some of the other cowboys who began hooting and whistling. Whatchya got planned, Curly Bill?"

"I swear if you keep talkin', Frank, a few unpleasant things are gonna happen!" At that moment, Frank backed off, not knowing what Curly would do if pushed hard enough.

Curly was almost shocked that Frank was being so brazen with the older rustler. Curly thought for a moment that perhaps he was getting too old for rustling stock with a bunch of younger bucks. It was hard work and rustling would eventually become a thing of the past like robbing stages; stages used to carry money and merchandise. Now they either lock it up, have a trigger-happy driver or don't carry anything worth stealing. Stealing was what Curly and his boys did best. In a way, he wished Ringo was back; some of the boys were less nervy around Johnny.

"None of your damn business, Frank." Curly Bill answered.

“He wants to see Danielle,” Billy Clanton said, a cigarette between his teeth.

"Yeah," Ike chimed in. "He's gonna court Danielle." Curly Bill could handle the stupidity of Billy, who was younger than Ike. But sometimes he couldn't stand Ike, a blowhard who usually ran from the danger he started. But as the oldest son of NH Clanton, Bill respected that as he viewed Old Man Clanton has a father.

Just then Behan walked through the batwings, blowing smoke from his cigarette. He motioned to Milt to give him his usual and he gulped his drink in two shots and pointed to his empty glass and gestured for a refill.

“Danielle?” Behan asked. Curly could feel his neck grow hot and he suddenly felt flushed and anxious to be somewhere else; anywhere else. If Behan found out Curly was trying to court Danielle, he could easily humiliate the cowboy leader while swooping in to steal Danielle away from him. She ain't even mine! He thought. Curly shook his head and looked at his empty glass and ordered more whiskey. He feared his boys, as drunk as they were, would spill the beans about how Curly felt about Danielle and he already felt insecure enough. Even if he confessed out loud to the Clanton’s and the McClaury’s, they would just laugh and tell him he had no chance with her and Curly did not want to hear that. And he especially did not want to hear that he had no chance with Danielle or that he was making a fool of himself. And to think that he had spent weeks thinking about her and that Behan could win her over with just a few encounters infuriated Curly Bill.

“What about Danielle?” Behan asked, puffing on his cigarette. “I was hoping she’d have dinner with me tomorrow evening. We’ve been talking as of late.” Behan smiled at Curly Bill knowing the gunfighter wasn’t going to do anything; the Cowboys were having enough issues with the Earps interfering with their business and Curly and his boys needed Behan as a neutralizer.

Behan must have known how Curly felt about Danielle; she was in town often buying supplies and having dinner. She often sat with other ladies while sending many suitors on their way with a shy shake of her head. Whenever Bill saw her in town, he stopped and looked at her and it was obvious to anyone who saw him how he felt. Curly Bill dreamt about having that chance and that when he asked her to have dinner with him, that she would smile and say yes. He feared if he asked her and she said no, he would be a laughing stock. It was bad enough that his own boys would be laughing behind his back, but to have the Earp's look at him with their taunting eyes was more than he could bear. Curly Bill felt old and unsure of his ability to lay the charm on Danielle; she wasn’t a whore and so seducing her would take more than fancy gun skills and the tall tales Curly was known for. Bill also feared how people would look at her. Some of the more decent town folks may look down on her or refuse service simply because she was seen with Brocious. He would love to walk down Allen Street with her on his arm, soaking up the envious faces of his fellow suitors as they tipped their hats to the big rustler. But he knew people would look down upon her. And to imagine her forced to leave Tombstone and find work as a dishwasher or maid-servant at a restaurant or hotel, scrubbing floors and serving drunkards because it was the only work she could find caused his heart to ache. Because people would look at her the same way they looked at him. Her family may disown her. Curly looked down at his empty shot glass. He shook his tired head and poured himself another drink.

“I was at Fred White’s and we had a polite conversation,” Behan bragged. "Did you know she's going to be teaching school in the fall?" Behan grinned. "A lovely lady who is a school teacher. And to leave a man who was hurting her."

Curly glanced over at Behan. If I had been there, he wouldn't have laid a finger on her. The son of a bitch would be dead! Knowing that she was going to be a school teacher only put her further out of reach. A school teacher who is a single mother and allowing herself to be courted by Curly Bill Brocious could cause the more elite members of the community question whether a woman like her should be teaching children. With Curly Bill's past and his reputation, she would be forced to leave town and may even have her relationship with the gunfighter follow her so when she arrived in the next town, they may know...The beautiful school teacher who put herself, her daughter and her students at risk all because of her affiliation with Arizona's most famous outlaw.

“I think she just needs a little time, but,” Behan puffed his cigarette. “Danielle needs a certain type of man. A man who can provide what she is accustomed to. I can’t imagine someone like her wanting to sleep in a tent.” Behan chuckled.

Curly felt like he was just kicked by a mule; he knew what Behan meant and that was proof that Behan knew how Curly Bill felt about Danielle. Curly’s heart sank and he eyed Behan while he gripped the neck of a bottle of whiskey, wanting to bash Behan over the head with it.

“Don’t do nothing to the furniture, Curly!” Ugly Dave shouted shouted. “Lessen you want to pay for it or work it off!”

Curly put the bottle back on the bar and eyed Behan. “That’ll be the day!” Curly shouted.

The Clanton’s and Stillwell stood by Curly Bill, who regained his composure quickly.

“You don’t know what she needs!” Curly said through a drunken voice.

“Oh, we’ll see won’t we?” Behan winked and took a long drag of his cigarette.

Behan

“May the best man win,” Behan said before shuffling out of the Oriental and over to the livery. Curly Bill watched from the bar and saw Behan move towards Phineas, the kid who worked at the livery, who was as usual practicing with his knife. Curly saw Behan mount his animal and ride out. He was worried he was going to Fred's to see Danielle, who visited the old Marshall often.

She was the most beautiful woman in Tombstone and made Josephine Marcus look plain. Every man in Tombstone thought Josie was the prettiest dame in town; Curly Bill thought she was beautiful; until he saw Danielle.

Josephine Marcus

Danielle

“You think she’ll say yes?” Curly remembered Behan saying.

Curly walked over to the livery stable where Phineas, the skinny fourteen year old boy who was quick with his knife was standing. The boy was flipping his stockman's knife while smoking a cigarette.

“Phineas!” Curly Bill yelled.

“Yeah, Curly?” The boy answered. “You want me to saddle your horse for you? He sure is a fine looking animal. Say Curly, you didn’t steal him, did you?”

“Now what makes you think that? "Curly retorted, knowing the kid was right; Curly figured if he bought a good horse, someone would steal it and he preferred doing the stealing himself. Curly told everyone he flat out won the Appaloosa from a Comanche chief who dared the cowboy to shoot two flying arrows and the reward would be one of their prized animals.

Curly's Appaloosa

“Sure is a fine looking horse. Say Curly, you remember when you promised to teach me how to shoot as soon as I got a gun? You remember, Curly, dontcha?”

Curly smiled and flashed a grin through his headache. “You ain’t even got a gun to your name, boy. But you’re pretty good with that knife.”

“Hell I am,” The kid replied. “Being good with a knife ain’t as good as being good with the irons, right, Curly?”

Curly held his head and shrugged. “I used to think I knew, kid.” Curly Bill checked the saddle by habit and mounted the Appaloosa. He did not know where he was going, but he knew he wanted to see Danielle. He needed an excuse to ride out to old Fred White’s house. The sun was setting and he wondered if she was at the hotel already. But he dismissed the idea of checking at the hotel; he didn't want to draw attention to himself and the last thing he wanted was for people to think she was a soiled dove. She came from a decent family. If her reputation was compromised because of him, he would never forgive himself.

His horse walked slowly through town; Curly was proud to be on such a coveted animal. He passed the shops and bars that lined Allen Street. Tombstone was not as busy that day; the usual bustle of this small boomtown was silent now with only a few people walking up and down Allen. Curly thought it odd and then remembered it was Sunday and that most folks were either attending the church on the other side of town or having Sunday dinner with family. Some of the establishments on the street were built in the early days of Tombstone and they did not seem to fit with the newer architecture with places such as The Oriental which sported mahogany wood that was handcrafted along with molded ceilings and hardwood floors. Wine and beer glasses hung from a fixture that stood over the bar, a variety of whiskeys and other spirits decorated the sides of the counter and a small piano and a sofa sat in a corner behind the bar. Women would come and sing and the cowboys were grateful to be in the presence of a beautiful woman who seemed to be singing to them. Many cowboys came to listen to women sing and paid handsomely for requests.

The sounds of the town began to fade while Curly Bill galloped out of town and towards Fred White’s house. He did not have any reason or excuse to go there and he hoped that Danielle would be there. Curly moved along and while the wind blew through his hair, he began to feel young again. A strong horse between his legs and the land before him; he adored every cactus, every large boulder and every tree that spread its shade over the stubborn desert. He adored it all because this wild place was where he felt he belonged. He wanted someone to share these moments with him.

Curly Bill stopped in front of White’s small cottage and he saw Fred’s horse grazing in front. He felt relieved and hoped Danielle was there. Curly did not see Behan or his Gelding and he wondered if he had already been there. He dismounted and slowly walked toward the front door.

“Hi there,” a voice sang from behind him. Curly turned and saw Danielle walking towards the house, a basket of freshly picked berries in her arms. Her face did not express the intense fear she demonstrated earlier and that gave Curly Bill some relief. He was afraid of Fred telling him to stay away from Danielle and her daughter and then he would not be able to be seen with her at all. Curly took a deep breath and began taking his hat off while Danielle moved closer. Her brown hair shone in the sun and her large liquid brown eyes seemed more expressive since her hair was down and seemed untamed. Curly Bill did not know what to say because he never thought she would ever initiate a conversation with him. He could feel his mouth open and he felt like a fool standing there with no excuse as to why he rode out to Fred White’s in the first place.

Curly Bill stood there with his hat in his hands and watched Danielle walk towards him; she seemed more beautiful than before and somehow he felt he just had to be with her. In a way, he was grateful for the moment because it caused his mind to escape and he began to fantasize about her and that caused a throbbing in his body that he could not control.

Danielle came close enough for Curly Bill to touch her and as tempted as he was, he restrained himself from reaching out to hold her. Her eyes met his and the fear that was not present a moment earlier slowly crept into her eyes again.

Curly continued to hold his hat and his feet rocked back and forth nervously as he tried to think of something to say; anything but that he was desperate to see her again. He tried to think of something to say, but failed and just stood there looking into her eyes, savoring her beauty.

“You’re looking for Fred?” Danielle asked.

“Well, yes ma’am,” Curly replied, holding his hat in his hands.

“I’m sorry, but he is not here.” Danielle said, wiping sweat from her brow. The hot and unforgiving heat of the Arizona desert permeated the air like a blanket. Danielle had torn the sleeves off of her shirt so her arms showed and when she lifted her dress to wipe her head, Curly could see her strong and tan legs. He felt himself sigh and then suddenly felt he needed to leave; if Fred returned and saw him there with Danielle he would conclude the wrong thing. Curly Bill bit his lip and thought if it were Behan or Wyatt Earp, Fred White wouldn’t have a problem, but since it was Curly Bill, no one would believe he went to see her just to have polite conversation.

“Sorry to bother you,” Curly said, putting his hat on his head. “I best be gettin back.”

"Well, Fred just took a walk." Danielle removed the scarf from her head and let her hair flow effortlessly. Curly could see beads of sweat on her olive skin and it glistened on her chest that heaved up and down.

"He took Dominique with him. She wanted to pick some wildflowers."

"Well, ain't that mighty sweet," Curly remarked. Danielle smiled and took a deep breath.

"I made some lemonade," Danielle began. "Would you like some, Curly Bill? It is hot out here."

Curly felt apprehensive. He did not want Fred to come back and see him alone with Danielle. "Well, I don't want to trouble you, Danielle."

"What's the trouble? I was about to have some too and I am sure Fred wouldn't mind if you came inside and waited for him!"

Curly Bill found himself smiling. He flicked his tongue as he does when he confident and amused by something. He chuckled warmly and followed her inside, his eyes focused on her soft curves.

Danielle poured two glasses of lemonade and brought them to the table where Curly was already sitting.

"So, Fred says you're a cowboy! That's exciting." She sipped her lemonade.

"Well, it ain't that much," Bill began.

"Oh I think it's incredible! All that hard work on so little sleep."

Curly smiled, thinking she was so naïve...She clearly didn't understand that cowboying was something a man does when he can't do anything else and rustling is for cowboys who prefer to steal cattle from others. He didn't want to tell her he was a rustler and figured she would find out sooner or later so why ruin a perfectly good time with her?

"You must have some interesting stories!" Danielle beamed. Curly smiled widely, showing his teeth and chuckling a bit before finishing his lemonade.

"Billy Breckenridge said you killed a grizzly! Is that true?"

Curly Bill smiled, feeling very grateful to the younger deputy.

"It came into our camp when we was drivin' cattle from the Double O. Late afternoon we could hear some loud noise so we got a ropes and pistols. Me and Ringo and two others threw our lassos and got the beast by it's feet. Once it was down, I emptied my shotgun into it. Hate to kill animals like that, but them grizzlies can take our horses and some cows with them, not too mention I gotta look out for my boys. I'm the..." He looked down at his empty glass.

"The boss?" Danielle smiled, her eyes fixed on the old cowboy.

Curly smiled again, surprised at Danielle's charm and friendly disposition.

"Well, Old Man Clanton gave me that title when I come to work on his ranch! He got two sons already, but neither of them seemed to have enough grit for a job like this."

That caused Danielle to smile. "Sounds like you're in charge of a lot. And it's such dangerous work. You must be brave, Curly."

Curly Bill loved how she called him Curly since only his closest called him that. She seemed so comfortable even though he looked so fierce. Curly wondered if she was just friendly or was genuinely interested in him.

The sound of a horse outside got their attention and Danielle and Bill stood up to see Behan getting off his horse. Bill looked over at Danielle, who's smile faded into an uncomfortable frown.

"Everything alright?" Curly asked Danielle.

She shook her head and then looked at Curly Bill his eyes that seemed to beg for his intervention. Curly began to feel important and became increasingly hopeful that he could protect Danielle; especially from Behan who couldn't shoot worth a damn anyhow.

"I...he comes here sometimes. You see, I don't care much for him. Well, he seems so..." She shook her head again. Curly wanted desperately to save her, but was fearful once again for how his gallantry would be perceived.

Curly moved closer to Danielle to his relief, did not back away.

"So what?" Curly inquired.

"So...eager, I guess. I asked him not to..." At that moment, Behan knocked on the door.

"Hello, hello.." He said, throwing his cigar away.

Danielle's eyes fell and her sad face only grew more downcast. She locked eyes with Curly and started to speak, but was interrupted by Behan's entrance. He took her hand and kissed it, causing her to look incredibly uncomfortable.

"Curly, what are you doing here? Are you waiting to speak with Fred? I am sure he'll be back later so why don't you return then?"

"No, you can stay, Bill," Danielle began. "Honest. Fred won't be much longer." Danielle looked out the window, hoping to see Fred and Dominique walking back to the house, but they were not in sight yet.

"Oh, don't you worry, Danielle. I'll stay with you until Fred and your daughter return. No need for any other protection."

Danielle opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the right words. She stepped outside and began looking in all directions for Fred.

"Why don't you leave the lovely lady alone, Curly? She is clearly uncomfortable with you here. And why shouldn't she be? Does she know about you and your past and present and well, bleak future?"

"Why don't you shut up, Behan?" Curly Bill growled.

"Listen, Curly Bill..." Behan began. "You think you're the only man in Tombstone hoping to court this lovely lady? You are one of many and only one man is going to have her and that man will be me. Look at yourself, cowboy...What do you really have to offer a woman like that? You're going to provide for her by stealing cows and horses? Or end up like Ugly Dave and pouring drinks for younger bucks. You're getting too old to keep up this rustling and you're not as good at it as you were before."

Curly Bill wanted to grab the lemonade pitcher and break it over Behan's head, but though the better of it. He was not going to let Danielle witness any violence that he himself provoked.

"Don't do anything hasty, rustler. You don't want to spend the night in jail do you? Then Danielle would be-"

"I'm warning you!" Curly said in a loud voice. "You ain't gonna hurt her!"

"Me? I'm not the outlaw, remember? I'm the good guy and the good guy gets the girl in the end, Curly." Behan's lips curled into a cruel and condescending smile.

Danielle returned inside, her face still full of concern. Behan moved toward her and Curly kept his eyes on the brazen sheriff. If he couldn't have Danielle, that was one thing, but he wasn't going to let Behan lay a finger on her. If Danielle wants Behan, Curly would back off; it was not his style to steal women. He would respect what Danielle wanted.

"John, maybe you should come back later," Danielle suggested.

"Nonsense!" Behan answered. "And leave you alone with him?"

"Who? Curly Bill?" Danielle demanded, her eyes widening.

"Danielle, let me-"

"Mom! I got lots of flowers, mom!" Dominique ran into the house and Curly could see the look of relief on Danielle's face. He was relieved too. He did not want an altercation between himself and Behan.

"Look, mommy! Look at all the flowers we picked!" Fred took his hat off and wiped his forehead with it. Danielle handed him a glass of lemonade.

"Oh, thank you darlin'," Fred replied taking long gulps. Danielle poured a glass for Dominique who ran to the couch and did another somersault. Then Dominique returned and looked shyly at Curly Bill who smiled and waved to the little girl who responded with a beautiful and welcoming grin like her mother.

Danielle motioned for Curly to sit down again and he did as he knew she wanted him to stay and he felt rather heroic for a moment.

To Curly's surprise, the little girl jumped into his lap. Behan's mouth dropped as the child did not even acknowledge him. Curly Bill was so moved by the sudden affection of Dominique; a number of emotions flooded his heart and he had never felt more appreciated in his life. Dominique played with Curly's black mustache like she was petting a kitten. Curly Bill, not knowing how to respond just chuckled. Dominique got down and pointed to Curly's boots and the Aces on them.

"Why do you have letter A's on your boots?" Dominique smiled and spun around. Curly laughed at how sweet she was and if she was sweet, it was because of her mother. She began counting the Aces and then said to Curly, "you a have 8 A's on your boots!" Curly looked down at his cavalry boots and winked at Dominique.

"Mom! He has 8 A's!" Danielle looked over at Curly and the two shared a long smile which burned Behan with envy and jealousy.

"Well, isn't that cute!" Behan started. "What a darling little girl you are. Just like your mother. Did you help your mother make that lemonade?" Behan moved closer to Dominique in the same self entitled way he approached her mother and Curly waited in anticipation for what the little girl would do who seemed as uncomfortable as her mother. If Curly Bill could impress Danielle and rescue her and her daughter from Behan, it would be enough of an ego boost to last quite a while and the story he could tell. Wait until my boys hear about this...He thought.

Curly Bill got up from his chair and took advantage of his height as he stood about two and half inches taller than Behan.

"You're leaving so soon, Curly? That's too bad," Behan said, winking at Dominique.

"Um, no you can stay if you like!" Danielle answered.

"Well, I am sure he has work to do, don't you, Curly? Some planning...Heading to Mexico are you?" Behan wanted to bring Curly into a conversation where he would be trapped and then Behan could easily tell Danielle all the deeds the old cowboy was known for and if he had her alone, he could easily over-exaggerate Curly's reputation.

Dominique ran and did another somersault on the floor and then jumped back up. Then she ran towards her mother and accidently dropped a glass that shattered on the floor and getting lemonade on Behan's suit. "Damn it!" The sheriff blurted out. "Watch where you are going!"

Dominique, to everyone's shock, ran to Curly Bill and jumped into his arms the same way she did with old Fred. Curly held the little girl, feeling mighty important. He couldn't remember a time when he felt so big in his life. Dominique hugged the old cowboy who asked, "You alright, little one?"

"You yelled at me!" Dominique said to Behan, who was wiping the liquid off his jacket.

Behan pointed to the little girl who turned and continued clinging to Curly like a little girl would cling to her father. Curly Bill found himself rubbing the little girl's back and whispering, "shhh," which was not only a relief to her mother, but a tender moment shared between two unlikely beings; an outlaw and a lovely little girl who ran to him for protection when she felt afraid.

MORE TO COME!

More by curlysgirl0202

T

Literature

More by curlysgirl0202

curlylovemotherrescuetombstonebehanbill

When a beautiful single mother arrives in Tombstone from California, she becomes the town's most desirable woman. Not only beautiful, but a wonderful mother and she is kind to everyone. Curly Bill desperately wants to court her and so does John Behan, who will do anything to be with her and when Behan forces himself into her life, Curly quickly sees the opportunity to be her rescuer. 

© 2023 curlysgirl0202

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[mixergiltron]

There IS a cure for the summertime blues.

So,Sharkfest is over,and it might hit 100 F today. But it's ok,because I have my AC and my blender. Blended drinks are perfect for cooling down in hot weather(that it to say,they're 'perfect' when they have rum in them). And it just so happens that there are many excellent Tiki recipes that call for blending. Here are the few that I've tried. A note about blending: many Tiki recipes call for blending only three to five seconds,while others aren't specific. I blend my drinks to the consistency of a slushy,just personal preference. I suggest you do the same and just blend them the way you want.

Mix #33 Megalodon

1oz Lemon Hart 151 1oz white rum 1.25oz lime juice 1oz agave syrup 1tsp red fassionola

Blend with a cup of ice for 5sec.

Sweet and powerful drink from my previous Sharkfest post.

Mix #27 Saturn

1.5oz gin 1/3oz orgeat 1/3oz falernum 1/2oz passion fruit syrup 1/2oz lemon juice

Blend with ice until slushy.

This was from my gin post. A nice light drink.

Mix #34 Singapore Symphony

1oz gold rum 1oz gin 1.5oz pineapple juice 1/2oz lemon juice 1/2oz passion fruit syrup 1/4oz grenadine

Blend with ice and pour into Tiki mug.

If you join Trader Vic's mailing list,you get occasional drink recipes. This was one I just got around to trying. The rum and gin do well together in this,and it's just the right amount of sweet. Will be putting this in my regular rotation.

Mix #35 Tonga Punch

2oz light rum 2oz orange juice 1oz lemon juice 1/2oz orange curacao 1/4oz grenadine

Flash blend with ice,pour into tall glass,garnish with mint sprig.

This is another Trader Vic's drink,this time off the back off their grenadine bottle. It's a bit sour for my taste. If I were to make another,I'd reduce the lemon juice and up the grenadine.

Mix #36 A Taste of Honey

1oz overproof rhum* 3/4oz honey syrup 1/2oz lime juice 8 drops allspice dram

Blend with 6oz ice until it can be eaten with a spoon.

*I used Pusser's Gunpowder

From BG Reynolds site. A very nice concoction. But watch how many you have,as the overproof rum and all that honey will no doubt give you a taste of hangover.

Mix #37 Derby Daiquiri

1.5oz light rum 1oz orange juice 1/2oz lime juice 1/2oz rock candy syrup*

Blend for 15sec. Serve in a coupe glass.

*Rock candy syrup is sweeter than standard simple syrup. If you only have standard,then double it to a full ounce.

Another BGR recipe,from the back of their Rock Candy Syrup(which they no longer make). As long as you get the syrup measurement right,it's a nice drink. One of these days I need to just get a bottle of rock candy syrup,just because that's what the Trader used in his Mai Tais.

Mix #38 Pago Pago

1oz dark rum 1oz orange juice 3/4oz lime juice 3/4oz grapefruit juice 3/4oz honey syrup dash Angostura bitters

BGR wants you to blend just the ingredients without ice,then pour it into a glass filled with crushed ice. I just blended the damn thing and it turned out very nice.

Mix #39 Coco Naut

2oz white overproof rum* 1.5oz cream of coconut 1oz lime juice

Blend with 12oz ice.

*I used Maggie's Farm Queen's Share Unaged.

I found this on the web. One blog posting attributed this to Beachbum Berry,but it had a ridiculous amount of cream of coconut and three ounces of rum. Didn't really sound like his style,so some searching found me this version on Difford's Guide. I trust them as a reliable source,so I went with theirs. Sweet and strong,again too many of these will lead to a hangover.

Mix #40 Beachcomber's Gold

1oz light rum 1/2oz dark rum 3/4oz passionfruit syrup 1/2oz honey syrup 1/2oz lime juice 2 dashes Angostura bitters

Blend with crushed ice.

There's a couple versions of this Don the Beachcomber's classic. Most are fairly consistent and just play with the proportions of the syrups and juice,so feel free to experiment to dial it in just the way you like. A nice summer drink.

As Jimmy Buffett would say,there's booze in the blender and soon it will render,that frozen concoction that helps me hang on. Aloha folks!

BTW,my weapon of choice is a Blendjet. Perfect for bachelors.

[tojisun]

hwb AU but what if the other man was Sukuna instead of Gojo? ofc if he's more of an au and not a curse 👀 i love the Gojo ending btw, happy for yn!

OHHH THIS IS SO SAUCY HELLO??? totally not exposing myself but after toji, sukuna’s the other mf i’m simping for in the jjk universe so what does this say about me as a person-

also how cliche can i make this? [x]

cw: NSFT, club/bar, mentioned oc’s (i really had a hard time just referring to reader’s friends as “your friend”), sukuna as his own content warning, reads like a whole different au

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

it’s been weeks ever since the faithful breakup in the diner. your friends have all learned what happened, and while some of them may have said unsavoury things in hopes to appease you, you have tried your best to move on and forget.

it’s impossible, of course, but at least it is less bitter now that there is more closure between you and toji.

sometimes you still cannot fathom that everything with toji has ended, but sometimes you remember the happiness rolling off of toji and recognize that the breakup was necessary for the good of the both of you.

still, despite your assurances to your friends that you are fine as you can be with the situation, it does not deter them from trying to fend off the sadness. hence this.

“really? a bar?” you ask, watching as chiharu calls for the waiter, ordering sazerac and whiskey for the group, “you all just want me to get trashed, don’t you?”

nagisa chortles. “it’s almost like that’s the plan, babe,” she responds, straining her voice loudly so that you can hear her over the booming music.

the bar was filled to the brim which is not that surprising as it is a saturday night. everyone knows that people get hammered on a saturday night and spend the rest of sunday curing the hangover. people in a stable relationship are the only ones who have decent plans on sundays, and you no longer have yours so the saturday night out with your friends is totally perfect. just not what you were planning to do. 

you were planning on just wasting away in your couch, eating a tub of ice cream as you catch up on the shows you were not able to watch. but all your friends said no to your self-pity party and dragged you out.

so here you are, wearing one of the sexiest yet most comfortable outfit you have, and seriously having a good time. even if it’s for a bit, toji fizzles out of your mind and the sadness bleeds out and shifts into a feeling of joy.

the moment escalates and soon you find yourself on the dance floor with your friends, letting the music sashay you like you are the happiest marionette in the room. laughter makes its way out of your lips and an innate high expands from your chest. 

“oh! sexy motherfucker at twelve o’clock!” ren screams at your ear, the code being futile when they point a ringed finger to the person they were talking about. you follow the direction they were pointing to and, well, would you look at that. the motherfucker is indeed sexy.

and sexy motherfucker is looking at you.

bleached pink hair pushed back at the centre, the sides undyed and trimmed shorter than the bleached parts. symmetrical tattoos running from his exposed wrists and body art of the same symmetrical lines resting on the high of his cheekbones. the tight white shirt he’s wearing isn’t doing well in hiding his well-toned body which could go on par with toji’s. white shirt and black pants combo shouldn’t be that hot, but as ren said, sexy motherfucker.

you’ve been so busy studying him that you did not even notice that he’s crossed the sea of dancing bodies and paused a feet in front of you. 

tall, sexy motherfucker. 

“hey,” he greets, lips quirked in a devilish smirk. 

he looks better up close.

“thanks,” he says, chuckling.

“i said that out loud, didn’t i?” you ask, blush rising and descending from your cheeks to your neck.

he chuckles again and nods, eyes still pinned at you. you squirm, feeling the weight of awkwardness about to fall. 

“want to bounce?” he asks, tipping his head at the door’s direction. you know what he means.

you turn to your friends slightly, having a silent conversation which ended with all of them assuring you that they will not be far for comfort, but that they will give you the berth you need to enjoy your time with nameless, tall, sexy motherfucker. 

you turn back to him, startling a bit when you saw that he was still looking at you with the same intensity.

“let’s go?” you reply, only for it to come off sounding like a question. his smirk just grows.

“let’s go.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

you gasp into his mouth when he backs you onto the wall, one of his hands holding the back of your head while the other is gripping at your hips. you feel him snarl when you mewl at his touch, and he deepens the kiss as though time is running out.

it feels like hours had passed when he pulls back enough to let you catch a breath, his lips still hovering on top of yours and grazing at yours at every little hitched breaths that come out of you.

“look at me,” sukuna whispers. you’ve learned his name a minute before he dipped in to kiss you. you peer up at him and giggle when he is just a blur because of how close he is to you. his large hands travelled to cup your jaw and pull you back for another kiss.

the kiss is slower this time and more sensual. the desperation and the hurriedness of a while ago has ebbed away, and all that’s left is the gentle movement of lips and partial moans shared between you two. you twine your fingers at his hair, softly caressing and humming when sukuna purrs.

this time, you are the one who pulls back, head thumping onto the wall. your lips feel heavy from the languid kisses and you smile a bit at the tingly feeling. you look at sukuna from your lashes and delight in the way his eyes have never left yours.

“you’re beautiful,” he says, “so, so beautiful.”

you smile at the praise.

“do you want to go continue this somewhere else?” sukuna asks, hands now caressing at your hips. 

you want to say yes, gods who wouldn’t? but you bite your lip in hesitation and you could see the moment sukuna understood that you don’t.

“i’m sorry,” you say, now feeling shy.

he laughs lightly at your apology. “nah, don’t sweat it.”

he pulls from you completely, standing beside you so he can lean on the wall too. “so what brings you here?”

you huff. “do people need an excuse to have fun?”

“humour me.”

you hum, piecing your thoughts together as you let the high fully subside. “i’m trying to move on from my ex and my friends think the best way to move on is to get hammered in a club.”

“they’re not wrong,” sukuna cheekily says. you bump shoulders with him and roll your eyes when he snickers again. “tell me more.”

“about who? me or the breakup?” 

he shrugs. it is only now that you noticed that he pulled out a lighter from his pocket and is playing with it. you watched as he twirled it around his fingers, occasionally igniting the flame and killing it, only to repeat the process.

“well,” you began, “he left me for his wife.”

sukuna hisses at your confession. “wife better be damn pretty to leave a woman like you.”

“oh yeah,” you say, bobbing your head in a nod to emphasize your agreement, “his wife’s pretty. but also i don’t think that’s why he left.”

“i dunno, doll,” sukuna replies, “if i was him, i won’t leave you for my wife. like what bullshit reason would one have in order to leave their current partner for an ex?”

“let’s see. plausible reasons could be: love? their son-”

“they got a kid? damn, babe, you into old guys or something?”

you punch his shoulders. “oh shut up.”

sukuna pretends to hiss in pain, exaggeratingly rubbing at his shoulder, but you know that he barely felt anything. you roll your eyes again, but you cannot stop the huff of laughter that escaped you. 

you two settle once more, letting silence roll over you two in waves. he still plays with his lighter and you realize that he’s showing you actual tricks instead of just playing around with it for himself. 

“it still hurts,” you confess, breaking the silence. “sometimes i wake up and i want to claw out my heart just so i don’t feel this sadness. during those times, i start to think that maybe i’ll never get over him.”

you stare ahead despite feeling sukuna’s eyes burning on you.

“i wonder if i should’ve fought back harder. if i should’ve cried and begged him to stay.”

“why didn’t you?”

“i...” you trail off, fingers fiddling with each other. your eyes have glazed over and it is like you are back in the diner, watching toji beg you to find happiness somewhere else. “i didn’t want to demand love that should have been given to me for free.”

“oh,” sukuna mutters.

“yeah,” you reply. you turn to him and feel a jolt of warmth at the gentle look in his eyes. maybe he pities you or maybe he thinks you are pathetic, truly you do not care. you are just content that he is taking you seriously.

“i’m a selfish person.”

“who isn’t?” he asks.

you smile. “who isn’t.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

after that incident, you and sukuna always meet up for casual hang. sometimes it’d develop into a make out session; fingers fumbling at each other, being come undone at each other’s lips. sometimes it remains as a normal hang out; pizza boxes and movie marathons, either sitting side-by-side or cuddled on his big sofa.

your friends gradually learn you and sukuna’s dynamic. often, though, you’d catch them talking silently but you do not pry because you do not want to unearth what it is they are hiding from you.

after a year of dancing around with sukuna, he declares his feelings for you and asks you out. you say yes and pull him in a kiss as though to seal your relationship.

no one is surprised when you both revealed the newly changed status of your relationship.

[acemapleeh]

Good morning! I just wanted to tell you I have read a few of your fics a mutual reblogged and they are just so good. The way you chose to write the us is really refreshing in a fandom that tends to select some of his worst features! so for him can I ask 8, 15, 24 and 29?

Aaah thank you so much <3 Really I just want to write Alfred as person who’s just a dude ya know? 

Alfred “These Bad Vibes I’ve Been Getting are Actually Deep Phycological Issues” Jones

Link to the original ask meme

8. What keeps your muse up at night?

Unlike his father and brother, Alfred does not suffer from insomnia on a regular basis. Him staying up into the late hours of the evening are, for the most part, by choice. His best work is done at night and definitely takes the phrase burning the midnight oil on both ends to heart.

Ideas keep him awake you can say.

He’s drafting blueprints, sipping his fourth cup of coffee, because if he doesn’t get them down now the idea will be gone by morning. He sets down his pencil and stretches, neck popping back into place after sitting at an awkward angle all night. The sun is up and he gets up to get another cup of coffee. Time to start the day.

He’s laying outside in fields of lavender, his telescope his father gifted him resting carefully on the picnic blanket beside him. There are stars in his eyes and his heart is pounding because he’s going to be up there. His flight is early in the morning but the idea of being one with the Heavens is running through his head on high speed. He can’t wait to make someone proud of him.

He’s in bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He laughs at a video. The idea of his brother hating him is gone for a moment. He smiles at a photograph. The idea of his partner having lied to his face all along is pushed to the back of his mind. He reads a funny story. The idea of his best friend being dead in the ugliness of war is tucked away.

He pulls out happy little stars from the deepest part of his mind, shimmering and glowing in the darkness of night.

No more ideas for tonight.

15. Who do they tend to bicker with the most?

Alfred bickers with everyone in his family because the majority of them are just easy targets to get under their skin. He knows not to bicker with people he has too many unresolved issues with. It’s aimed to be friendly, not start an actual war. The man has little control and filter of what’s coming out of his mouth so he might say something to somebody he’ll regret later. He’s able to bicker more with Ivan these days with the lack of nuclear threat behind their words for example.

Matthew is an obvious. They can go back and forth at each other for hours about the littlest of things but still find themselves camping together and getting a hearty breakfast to cure their hangovers. The two just know the other far too well so they know the balance of what can be said in petty arguments. These bicker fits tend to be dumb. Alfred will claim some fact that sounds far too fake to be correct but he’s snickering as he’s insisting that Mr. Boston Market opened the business of the same name and he used to be friends with him back in the 1700′s. Matt is yelling at him to stop, near in tears. The most common bickers are them calling the other out on shit.

“At least I don’t pass out when it gets a little humid out!”

“Well I’m not the one freezing my ass off and wearing an actual coat at 16 degrees Celsius!”

He can make fun of his old man Arthur nonstop holy shit. It's mainly about food and Arthur being old fashioned. Like, really that's the phone you use everyday? You're scolding me for what I shove in my body but you literally put anything on toast and don't even get me started with jelly and ice cream. Arthur yells at him for microwaving water and putting too many condiments on everything. Alfred promptly gives him a backhanded peace sign and Arthur is ready to thrash him.

24. Does your muse hate their middle name? \ What is it?

I feel like Alfred is personally responsible for his middle name. Arthur might have given him one way back when but he's definitely changed it several times over the years. The first was not his chose, having been found by the Puritans he got one of those.... Puritan names. Fear-God, Free-Gift (maybe the first one he got because he was a baby that came from nowhere, the best way to get a child the Puritan way because no sex was involved), Forsaken (this might have been the second name after he died and he came back like nothing happened and it scared the shit out of everyone). Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith might be one he picked himself for the first time. As he spent more time under Arthur's care in the first part of the 18th century, it changed to something more akin to the times and properly English. Fairfax for his light hair and reminded Arthur of fields of wheat. 

He would rightly change it during the Revolution to Freedom.

Once that calmed down and the 19th century was starting to really establish who he was as a person, it changed again. It started as Fortenay for a couple years as he spent most his time going out West. Americana names, being named after landscapes or other American figures, were growing in popularity after the century of independence in the country. He felt Franklin was a good fit and stuck to the theme of being a freeman.

Fitzgerald he chose just before the Great War and kept till after the Great Depression. He didn’t have any special meaning for it, something about it just sounded nice with the flow of his name. He switched to Ferryl almost just for the Second World War.

From after the War forward, he’s more or less held onto the same name. He’ll jokingly say that after all these years, his middle name might legally be Fucking if people keep calling him that. I don’t know, something about Alfred Frederick Jones just sounds nice to me; even if you could argue the name is a little plain for a guy who can change it to whatever he wants. He might have another one in mind for the near future.

29. Has your muse ever had a pet? If so, what type?

I’m going to be extremely cliché in that this man HAS to have a dog. He seems like, the perfect person to have one. He’s got a Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Spangle that’s been at his side for about two hundred years now. He goes on jogs with it, carries it in whatever bag to take it with him on the New York Subway, and has fallen asleep head against its furry back. He loves bringing it with him when he goes to Matt’s place so both their pups can play together. Brothers with dogs that go on hikes together has my heart, my dude. 

He just moves around so often and has to go to meetings and conferences all the time. He feels terrible leaving Spangle with the neighbors but what else is he going to do? Alfred’s tried to sneak her to meetings and promised she would be quiet but that’s the same as saying Alfred’s going to keep still and wait his turn to speak. He can get away with it at Matt’s place and even has left her to play with Ludwig’s dogs whenever they have a meeting in Germany. They exchange homemade dog treat recipes.

[i-want-all-the-cookies]

So this is just a headcanon of what I think each Union member would probably smell like. Hope you guys like it, and let me know if you would want me to do the Eunjang guys as well, or any other side character.

************ *************************************

Donald Na- Donald would smell like clean linens or a fresh breeze. Now I know what you're thinking, 'What the heck is that even supposed to be or smell like?' I had the exact same thoughts when I was trying to find a nice candle to buy and came across these scents. But surprisingly when I took the lids off to get a whiff, they smelled kinda fresh and crisp. Nothing overpowering, very subtle, and possibly even close to an actual "clean" smell.

•Donald would prefer to have a neutral scent if at all possible. Nothing too flashy or potent and definitely nothing bad. He especially doesn't want to smell of dirt, sweat, or anything that could be associated with his childhood. He will find extreme satisfaction at staying clean, and smelling clean at all times.

•Which is why I also don't see him wearing any body sprays or colognes. He doesn't like other smells to linger on him. With the only true exception being your smell. But even then, he would prefer it on a piece of clothing that he could remove at will if needed. For anything else in his regular day to day life, it's just going to be his own scent. With the occasional situation where he would have to go and attend some type of function, possibly for business. In which case, he would splash on a little dab of high quality cologne for the event and then wash it off as soon as he gets home.

•There will be some moments throughout the day where you may catch a different scent on him. Those being when he's eating and when he's smoking. At those times you will be able to get a whiff of him smelling like warm bread, marinated bulgogi, or even cigarettes. But those moments won't last long, since he would go wash his hands as soon as he is finished. Going as far as even wiping his lips down with some water or a wet wipe after smoking, so that all the parts of him that came in contact with the object get wiped clean.

•Of course what this means for you, is that you will always get Donald at his most bare. So when you hug or hang out, you know that what you smell is not anything synthetic but his own authentic clean scent that you can enjoy.

____________

Jimmy Bae- Jimmy would have a warm woodsy scent. Nothing too strong or sharp, but definitely outdoorsy in nature. So when he picks you up in a big bear hug lifting your feet off the ground, either to feel you squirm as you try to set your feet back onto solid ground or to just hold you tighter so you won't scurry away, he will smell like a walk through the woods on a warm spring day. Where you are able to smell some of the foliage mixed in with warmed up tree bark that's been heated up from the sun.

•Part of this is because, unlike Donald, Jimmy likes to smell of something. So he will use scented body soap in the shower, and will even give himself a quick burst of some type of body spray (imagine something like Axe body spray) when he is finished showering or getting ready. And he prefers woodsy, natural scents over high perfumed ones.

•But of course this is Jimmy we're talking about, so he will also always have a subtle lingering smell of cigarettes. He won't be as meticulous at washing afterwards as Donald, but if there is a sink or washroom nearby he will go and at least wash his hands. Especially if you happen to be around. But if there isn't any in the area, then he will definitely not loose any sleep over it.

______________

Forrest Lee- Forrest will smell like cloves with a hint of cardamon. Since I see him as more of a tea drinker than a coffee drinker. And there is actually this black tea, that's made with added whole cloves and cardamon pods, that just makes everything smell soo good. And it taste absolutely yummy (kinda like how I imagine Forrest to taste...I mean, smell like 😉).

•The scent would be caused not only by Forrest's tea drinking habits, but also because of the body and hair products he uses. Forrest, like Jimmy, will use scented body wash. But unlike Jimmy, Forrest will also use lotion on his hands and body. So whenever he reaches out to hold onto your hand or he happens to touch a part of your body, it will always be with soft, firm hands. Of course that still wouldn't matter to those he decides to slap around, as to them, it would still feel like a damn bear was the one hitting them across the face.

•And since Forrest is also a smoker, so he will also have a lingering cigarette smell to him. Especially when he wears his leather jacket. Which is most of the time. Since the leather seems to pick up and hold onto the smokey scent more than regular clothing would. But that still doesn't stop him from offering you his jacket when he thinks you look cold. He will just hope that you dont mind the smell too much, and would probably try to "shake it out" (as if that would do anything lol) before handing it to you. But the plus side to that situation is that once you hand back his jacket, the leather would have picked up on some of your scent as well, and now HE gets to smell you for the rest of the day or night.

____________

Jake Ji- Ok Jake will absolutely smell like sweet candy. Cotton candy, those little sugar tabs, lollipops, you name it. If it smells like sugary candy then it smells like Jake. It's also good to mention that he probably has the biggest sweet tooth in the Union, Donald coming in as a close second, so he is constantly munching down on the latest ice cream flavor, new novelty hard candy with a fizzy center, or trying out the multiple flavor combinations of boba drinks.

•Jake also doesn't seem to care what he uses on his body, either in the shower or after when getting ready. So if there happens to be a strawberry scented shampoo in the shower when he's bathing, most likely belonging to his mom, then he's using it. If he's at your house and he feels like his hands are dry, then he will grab some of your sweet pea lotion, without a second thought to it. Might even decide to hug you right as you're applying some perfume or body spray, and get sprayed in the process. It's ok, it won't bother him at all, and now he gets to smell just like you anywhere he goes.

•But other than the impromptu spray you provide him, he isn't into any specific colognes or body sprays, so what you smell off of him is simply the stuff he uses on his skin. If you would like him to smell a certain way more than another, then gift him a body set in that scent, and he will without a doubt use it on himself from head to toe.

___________

Wolf Keum- Wolf is more of an enigma when it comes to scents. Because he could not give two shits about anything he puts on his body, such as body wash, sprays, or lotions. So everything that he does use is usually scentless. Which means that he has the most natural smell out of everyone.

•The bad news is that it easily gets overpowered by other things he does throughout the day. More so than anyone else, Wolf's scent changes as the day progresses.

•In the morning he will most likely smell heavily of coffee. Because this guy needs his coffee to be STRONG. Or at least powerful enough to keep him awake throughout the day or to cure off the previous night's hangover. Later in the afternoon it will shift to the lingering smell of cigarettes, as he seems to be one of the heavier smokers of the Union. And on some nights, he might even end up with the faint smell of whatever alcohol he was drinking at the local club or bar that he managed to get into. Then there is also all the random moments where he happens to even smell like you, especially after you both have hung out for a good length of time. 😏

•But even at the end of each night or after a very long day, it would still be possible to get a whiff of Wolf's own natural scent. At least to those who can get him to drop his guard, and who he would allow to get close enough to rest their nose into the crook of his neck. Where they would inhale the sweet scent of cookies. Cuz what else would one of the most ruthless guys in the Union smell like if not the warm, comforting smell of baked treats.

[ichigoromi]

Taking care of you while you are drunk | Kuroo Tetsuro Headcanon | Timeskip

This will be my first Kuroo headcanon! And the last of this series! Hope you all enjoy this series! Thank you for all the love and support!

Let's get this started!

Enjoy~!

Kuroo Tetsuro

You were going to your best friend's bachelorette party

Things at the bachelorette party were getting wild, and you had way too many drinks already

Your husband, Kuroo were at the groom side having fun without alcohol since he is the designated driver

When you are drunk, you become extremely emotional and talkative, unlike your sober self

While downing shots, you kept on talking about how Kuroo won't let you adopt a puppy and how you wanted ice cream the other night, but he won't drive you

Your friends are pretty shocked how drastically you changed and was trying to stop you from drinking

It was difficult to stop you, who has not drunk for some time

When your friends, who are the designated drivers, finally stops you and your best friend from drinking, they all quickly piled all the drunkards and the slightly tipsy ones into the cars

You clung onto one of your friends and talk about how puppies are cute and the best pet ever

When they reached your house, Kuroo was already standing outside waiting for you

But he did not expect a wasted you

Kuroo tried to carry you, but you cooly rejected him, saying that you have a husband already

He was bewildered by your reaction

Then he decided to wrap your arm around his waist while he holds your shoulders and brings you into the house that you too saved up desperately for

You easily slip out of your heels and waddle into the living room

"Babe, do you want to take a bath? I can run you a bath now." He tries to touch your head, but you slapped his hand away.

"Hey, I'm married. Stop trying to take advantage of me!" You wrap your arms around yourself protectively.

This whole situation was absurd to Kuroo, who has never seen you drunk before. Well, there is a first to everything.

"My husband is so mean. He doesn't allow me to adopt a puppy because why? He is scared that the puppy is going to steal my attention and ignore him."

"But my husband is the best. He would bring me food and check on me during lunchtime and pick me up after work. Why won't he let me adopt a puppy!"

You whined and laid down on the sofa, pouting deeply. All this was too cute for Kuroo to handle.

"If your husband allows you to adopt a puppy, then would he become the best husband?" He asked, and you nodded your head.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Oh~, you look similar to my husband! Wait, you are my husband!" You giggled and lie on his lap.

"My husband is the most handsome and caring in the world! I love you, baby."

"I love you too, bubs."

He combs your hair with his fingers, and slowly you fell asleep.

The Next Morning

"Good morning bubs! How's the hangover?" You glared at him as you sip on your morning coffee.

He slips his arms from behind and leans his chin on your shoulder.

"I'm having a terrible pounding headache and I want some food to get rid of the queasy feeling in my stomach." You leaned back against him, trying to warm yourself.

"Alright, since my beautiful wife is suffering, her charming husband shall go get some food to cure her hangover!" He kisses you on the lips and head out to get some food to get rid of your hangover.

Once, he comes back with food, he is so going to tease you about last night and might even consider about the puppy.

- End -

This is the end of this series of haikyuu boys taking care of a drunk s/o! I might write another part of this series in the future, but that's uncertain for sure!

Hope you all enjoy this series!

Thank you for all the recent love and support! I really appreciate it! Do drop me a text or request!

With love,

Rosalie❤️

[roseanemoneblack]

BTS p. 2

[TW: strong language, swearing, mentions of abuse]

You grunted and turned to the side. Your head hurt like crazy and you couldn’t force yourself to open your eyes. You know it will cause even more pain but what are you going to do?

You slowly opened your eyes “Fuck. What the hell did I drink yesterday?” The pain was overwhelming, just as expected. You slowly looked around the room and noticed it isn’t a place you are familiar with. Huge comfortable bed, black and modern furniture and a huge dog staring at you?

“Where the hell am I?” you thought and immediately turned to a dog. “Heeey cutie. Who is such a good doggo? Who is so pretty with his floppy years?” The dog came closer and started to lick your hand.

“His name is Bam, in case you don’t remember.” The owner of the dog came through the door with a tray in his hands. “You really are a heavy drinker. I thought you were exaggerating but you finished almost 2 of my whiskeys. How are you still alive?”

“Am I? Not for long for sure, considering the hangover.” You grunted again and took the juice from the tray. “Oh? Peach Ice Tea? Do you drink this for hangovers too?”

“No.” He laughed. “How much do you remember from yesterday?” You looked at him suspiciously. Yeah.. How much do you remember?

“I remember you saving me from that creepy asshole. Drinking in CU and hmm.. yep. That would be all, I guess. Just cut me some slack will ya, thinking makes me want to jump out of that window right there.” You took your face in your hands and brushed your hair. “I’d be glad if you helped me a little and told me what happened.”

He sat on a chair next to the bed and started to stroke Bam on his head. I don’t think he realized how hot he looked just right now. “Okay but eat those burgers you requested.” You looked at him puzzled and noticed your favorite hangover-cure hamburgers you always eat after heavy drinking. “We drunk some somaek at CU as you wanted, meanwhile you used all curses available in your head to curse that no-good-of-a-man you were with. Then suddenly your mood changed and you wanted to go sing karaoke because I quote ‘I either sing in a karaoke room or here and I am not going to be quiet’, so you kind of left me no choice. We grabbed an ice cream on our way which apparently made you sober enough to want to drink more soju in karaoke. Oh my god, you are a terrible singer but it was nice to see you enjoy yourself for a little before you burst into tears and started to worry you have nowhere to go.” You stopped the burger midway to your mouth and looked at him terrified of where this story was going.

“So as a decent person I suggested I will rent you a hotel room for your safety but you said you’d rather die than go to a hotel with me because you are not a cheap whore and then immediately proceeded to ask if I have a spare room. Which apparently in your drunken head it was safer to follow a stranger to his house than sleep in a nice hotel by yourself. When we finally arrived at my house you were so happy to meet Bam you wanted to spend some more time with him so you made me order pizza and bring the alcohol out. Which we drunk. Mostly you but both of us were drunk, when you FINALLY realized you’ve had enough you claimed the master bedroom and went to sleep. I swear I’ve never met a woman as crazy as you. Oh and the peach ice tea and burgers? You made me sign a paper saying I will provide those to you upon waking up otherwise you are going to get paid in the rest of my alcohol. Which I am happy to share on occasions but you are not drinking anymore of my 500$ whiskeys like ahjussi who hasn’t seen any alcohol in a week.” He finished with a smirk on his face after seeing me stare blankly at a wall in front of me.

“I must be crazy. Why is alcohol doing this to me? I know I don’t have much self-control when it comes to it, especially in such stressful situations like that one but taking advantage of such a nice guy? Inviting myself to his house. Drinking whiskey worth more than anything I have on me at this moment like water AND stealing his room. I have to get out of here or I will die of embarrassment.” You stood up quickly, a little too quickly so you stumbled back on bed.

“What are you doing?” You looked at him. He genuinely looked concerned. It made this whole situation even worse.

“I… I need to go. I am so sooo sorry about last night. I really didn’t mean to cause all of this trouble. Please leave me your account number, I will reimburse you for all you spent yesterday.” You grabbed your purse and moved to the door. He grabbed your wrist.

“Stop. Stop and think for a second, will you?” You stopped and hung your head. “Where will you go? Will you go to that asshole? You told me everything yesterday. How he separated you from all of your friends and moved you to the other part of the country. How you got no job and no money because he took over your account with all the savings you had. What is your plan? I know you must be embarrassed but running away right now won’t do you any good. I prepared some clean clothes for you in the restroom. Go, freshen up and let’s talk. Let’s find some solution together.”

He was right. Of course he was right. If you stepped out of his apartment right now, what were you going to do. You maybe had enough money to use the taxi to go home. Maybe enough to spend one night in a cheap motel and then what? You needed a plan because whatever happened you were not going back to your ex. You didn’t look at Jungkook and moved to the restroom. Shower wouldn’t hurt and maybe while you were there you would find a better solution than using more of this man’s kindness or living on the streets.

As soon as you turned the water on and felt your muscles relax under the hot water you dropped to your knees and started to cry. How did you find yourself in this situation? You didn’t consider yourself a stupid person, you never understood women who got themselves dependend on such toxic men like your ex and yet you were this woman now. He took everything from you. Everything. You had no one but this stranger you met yesterday who showed you more care and kindness than anyone in a while. You hoped that there was some solution to your problems out there and that you were going to find it as soon as possible.

You let yourself cry for a while, until you felt strong enough to leave and face this terrible situation you were into. You wore the clothes Jungkook left for you and smiled because the t-shirt had a cute drawing of a familiar green bottle and said “You got me at soju”. You wondered who got it to him.

You left the restroom and followed the sound of someone singing.

“Oh you’re here. You were taking a while so I thought I might make something a little more nutritious than the burgers you didn’t even touch. It will be ready in a minute.” He turned away and continued cooking.

You moved towards the living room where Bam was laying on a carpet. You looked around at somehow familiar surroundings. It’s a weird feeling to know you’ve seen this place a day before but it feels like you are looking at it for the first time.

The interior was very masculine and modern yet at the same time it felt very warm. There were a lot of personal things that made it feel almost homey, a pillow with a funny picture thrown over the chair. Plenty of dog toys scattered around the floor. Some snacks here and there as if he left them to grab in case he gets hungry in any part of the house. The huge gaming center with any console possible and a karaoke machine under the tv made you smile as well. Of course he would spend his free time playing games. Which man at his age didn’t?

You were teasing Bam and laughing out loud at his funny faces when the doorbell rang. You looked suprised at Jungkook but he just shrugged and mouthed “no idea, wait.” and opened the door. You bent a little to see who it was and there they were. Six very angry men were standing in Jungkook’s doors.

[needleanddead]

Echoing the previous anon about knowing more about your characters! I'm definitely interested in more infodumps, like how do they celebrate their birthdays (if they even do) or do they have a favorite type of food or snack. Please keep writing!

;_; thank you so much anon! I actually do indeed have birthdays for most of the Human characters; Constance is a Virgo (September 15th), Cass is a Gemini (June 1st), Teddy is a Leo (August 3rd), Rose is a Capricorn (January 17th) and Lucas is a Cancer (July 10th)! I'll leave how they celebrate their birthdays for another day, but food-wise also;

Baking is one of Rose's main hobbies; they have a sweet tooth! They make a lot of sweet breads and do a lot of decorating because they find the instruction of recipe and the repetitive motions of making a whole tray of cupcakes look the same very soothing. Bread is good for working out their anxiety (it's basically the only time you'll ever see them get violent). For someone with one friend, they make a lot of food for sharing! They keep saying they'll take something around for the neighbours, but they never do.

Teddy likes ice cream and milkshakes. Very much would like to share a strawberry milkshake topped with whipped cream and a cherry and two straws with you, before you beat him up a little. Lovingly!

Cass would immediately rattle off a ridiculously expensive dish cooked by a celebrity chef, but the truth is that he has a soft spot for a traditional English fry-up. The ultimate hangover cure. Not that he gets hangovers, stop looking at him like that.

Constance's favourite food are macarons. Traditional afternoon tea foods are very popular with her; neat little sandwiches, various patisserie goods, served on fancy china with an accompanying tea blend.

Lucas's favourite food is his mother's apple pie. He's not very good at baking himself, though he's a competent cook. His mother sent him a handwritten recipe for the pie whilst he was on deployment before everything rapidly went South, and it's one of few things he has from his family. He's never been able to replicate it.

Van is fae, so he also has a sweet tooth! He's very fond of honey. He's also incredibly fond of crystallised ginger, violets and rose petals - if you give him some kind of plant crystallised in sugar, he's all over it.

Percy doesn't need to eat mortal food either, but does for appearance's sake - he'll try most things, though because the area his bookshop is in has a healthy and notable Bangladeshi population, he has a certain fondness for that region's food!

[besidemethewholedamntime]

hullo! if you’re still taking intimacy prompts, 49 please :)))

of course! I’m so sorry it took me longer than I meant it to. Thank you so much for prompting me, and I hope you enjoy <3

49. Taking care of them when they’re ill + Fitzsimmons

i think it’s called love 

{Read on Ao3 if you’d like to!} or you can read it all here:)

Fitz’s body is entirely too heavy and he can’t find the energy to even lift his head when he hears the front door of his flat open and then shut, though he winces at the slamming of it in the frame, only to instantly regret it. Even when there’s footsteps along the laminate floor in the living room and the hall, and his bedroom door swimming open, he can’t find the will to move. He hopes that, if it is a murderer, they’ll do him a favour and just kill him outright, saving him from the mortal hell he finds himself trying to just breathe through.

“Well, well, well,” a voice says. “Look at the state of you.”

It’s not a murderer, unfortunately. It’s Jemma, and she’s sounding far too happy. A murderer might have been preferable.

“Ungghh,” he groans, not even opening his eyes. For a moment a bolt of fear runs through him – is he even dressed? – before he feels the softness of the duvet and his heart slides back down his throat and into his chest. “I’m ill.”

“I can see that.” He can just imagine her looking disapprovingly at his state, standing at the bottom of the bed as she probably is. “What happened?”

“Yelling,” is what he manages to get out. “Bobbi was yelling at Hunter and then he was yelling at Daisy and then Daisy was yelling at… me? And then Mack yelled at all of us.”

“Well it’s never a good night if Mack starts yelling at you.” The bottom of his bed dips slightly as he imagines she sits down on it. “You’re in quite the state.”

“Uh-huh. I dunno what happened after all the yelling.”

“I thought Scotsmen were supposed to be able to handle their alcohol.”

He’d really like to give her a full Fitz glare, but all that he’s able to manage is a furrow of his brow and even that makes his stomach flip. “That’s a really unfair stereotype.”

“But entirely true in your case.”

It’s a fair point, and something he frequently boasts about when he has a few in his system, but he hopes she doesn’t bring it up. He moans into his pillow again as he recognises the tase of something in the back of his throat.

“Daisy made me drink wine.”

Jemma inhales sharply. “Oh, yes, I could see how that would put you in this state. Your kryptonite of alcoholic beverages.”

The amused sympathy in her tone means that he can’t resist cracking open one eye. Thankfully the curtains are closed and so the light in the room is bearable to his sensitive retinas, yet it’s not so dark that he can’t make Jemma out, as clearly as ever, sitting on the bottom of the bed. She looks far too fresh for his current state, and he knows it’s only her empathy that’s keeping her from gloating about it.

“You’re looking proud of herself,” he says, opening the other eye and gingerly turning to face her properly. “Bet you’re glad you didn’t come out.”

“Well the paper that needed editing was just too much fun to miss out on,” she laughs. “But no. I was sad I missed it until I saw you lying here.”

He licks his lips, mouth feeling dry. “Why are you here again?”

“Daisy and Hunter sent me many videos of the shenanigans you all got up to and there were far too many bottles of wine on the table which I just knew someone would make you drink so they could hear you sing and so,” she holds up a reusable shopping bag, “I brought you some things I thought you could do with this morning.”

“Jemma…” he sighs with gratitude, and something else which he doesn’t dare name. “You are the best.”

She tilts her head. “I’m going to remember that when you call me the absolute worst for leaving that anatomy journal open on your desk again.”

“Hey,” he struggles to sit up, the queasy feeling in his stomach momentarily dissipating. “You can’t just leave those kinds of pictures out, it’s-”

“It’s my job and you shouldn’t have looked at if you knew it was going to make you sick. You’re always doing-”

“-so unfair - it was my desk!”

“-one time I needed something-”

“-called you the supreme worse, not absolute, you just-”

“-so picky, honestly-”

“-dead things, Jemma!”

“Ugh, Fitz!”

It’s a decisive ugh Fitz. One to end them all. She picks a can of lemonade out of the bag and holds it out to him. His ultimate hangover cure. “Do you want this or not?”

“I do.” He takes it from her, and tries not to wince when the sound of the can opening goes straight through his head. “Maybe you’re not the worst.”

“Why thank you.” And then she grins. “Though you do look the worst right now.”

“Thanks for that,” he grumbles, taking a sip of the lemonade.

“Oh, come on, Fitz.” She brings out her homemade sandwich, the only thing he can eat being as severely hungover as he is. “You know you love me really.”

It’s all he can do not to choke on his juice. “Mhmm,” he hums non-comittally, lucky that Jemma’s gone back to her bag so that she can’t see his face, which he is just sure has his true feelings emblazoned all over it.

“I brought you some box sets that we can watch together,” she says, head still in the bag. “I also have your ice-cream for when you get to the craving sweet things stage. Oh, and I have a voucher for pizza we can use because we both know you’ll be absolutely starving later.”

He frowns at the suggestion that she’ll be here all day. Not because he doesn’t want her to stay, but because there’s a part of him that just can’t quite believe she does. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

Head coming up, she blinks at him as though she doesn’t quite comprehend. “What ae you on about? Of course I’m not babysitting you.”

“Just saying, you don’t have to stay if you’ve got more exciting plans. I’ll be alright.” There’s suddenly a very vicious somersaulting of his stomach and he grimaces as he swallows. “Eventually.”

“Fitz, it’s a Saturday. A day that I usually spend with you anyway, and being with you and getting to make fun of you whilst you’re in such a state is even better.” She smiles, patting him on the leg. “Trust me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

His stomach flips for a second time, but it’s got nothing to do with the alcohol.

Jemma stands up, taking the bag with her. “I’m going to go put Doctor Who in the DVD player and get the living room all set up. You finish your lemonade and then go for a shower.” She wrinkles her nose. “You smell like Hunter’s after the last time he broke up with Bobbi.”

“Oh, God,” he groans. He feels like he might just be able to handle a shower, the sugary goodness now replacing the wine in his veins. “Alright, yeah. I can do that.”

“I’m sure you can. I’ll put your sandwich on a plate for you.”

She’s almost out the door when Fitz says, “Wait, Jemma!”

Her head pops back around. “Everything alright?”

“Just…” suddenly his cotton-wool mouth is back. “Just thanks, for this. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, Fitz, of course. You’re my best friend in the world, and I know you’d do the same for me.”

She smiles and then leaves, and instantly he flops back down onto his pillow, trying to suppress a groan that he knows she’d be able to hear.

You know you love me really.

The words play on a loop in his mind. He’s never been very good at hiding his feelings, and it’s a wonder she still doesn’t know just how close to the truth she really came.

[spikekat]

i lie here charmed; songxuexiao stoned fucking fic; NSFW; 5.3k words; trans song lan & trans xue yang; modern au established relationship stuff; it’s Soft yall, be warned

[read on AO3]

“A-Yang,” Xingchen says, when a vaguely hungover Xue Yang stumbles into his and Song Lan’s kitchen. Xingchen gives him a slow once over, lingering on the dark bruise at Xue Yang’s neck, almost obscured by the collar Xue Yang slept in. Xue Yang lets himself smile, remembering how Song Lan’s teeth had felt on his skin. He can’t remember the last time his neck was free from bruises.

“Coffee?” Xue Yang asks, shuffling forward to press his face into Xingchen’s shoulder. He's making something with dough-- bread?-- kneading in front of the kitchen window where he can watch the storm roll in.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” Song Lan says from his place on the counter. He’s wearing a too-small shirt and a pair of Xingchen’s sweatpants. His nipples are hard, distracting through the fabric. Xue Yang pointedly turns away from him and tilts his face toward Xingchen, still blinking sleep from his eyes. It's too early in Xue Yang's day for Zichen to be looking so biteable.

“In the fridge,” Xingchen laughs. He’s a sucker for Xue Yang early in the morning. Early in Xue Yang’s morning, anyway. Song Lan makes a sound that might be amusement. It’s hard to tell without looking.

Xue Yang shuffles to the fridge, his head pulsing unpleasantly. His thermos, a gift from Xingchen this past New Years, is ice cold and full of extremely sweet coffee. Two creams, just how he likes it. He takes a few ice cubes from the freezer tray, lets them both see that it’s empty and he’s not refilling it, and pops them in. Perfect hangover cure.