Multifandom Imagines (and a Headcanon set here and there)

Golden-haired Angel - Joe Manco x Reader

Requested by ChrolloLucilifer

Joe and you sat at a table, playing a friendly game of gin rummy. Friendly as in, there was no stake; you were just playing for the sake of spending time with each other. For the tenth time since you had entered the saloon, your eyes travelled over it. This was the bar that Joe and you had killed Red Cavanaugh and his gang in.

It had been a rainy day, but fruitful and exhilarating all the same. You had walked your mules to just inside the edge of town, left them there, Joe had lit his cigarillo, and then leant at the doors of one of the saloons, surveying the activity. The place, like now, was bustling, with, surprisingly, no fight going on. There was a nice rinky-tink tune being played, the selfsame tune being played by the selfsame pianist as it was now. On the far right of the main section of the saloon, a woman had walked up to the sheriff to 'meet and greet' him. Joe had then walked in, with you following him, like you always did. You had stopped just a few feet away from the sheriff. When he noticed you, he came over. Joe had asked him for a light and then if he knew Cavanaugh. The sheriff had given Joe a look that affirmed this. When asked if he knew where you could find Cavanaugh, the sheriff had looked in the direction of his table and told you that he had his back to you, while relighting Joe's cigar. Like the gentleman that he is, Joe had thanked him in his sweet, soft voice before he walked to Cavanaugh's table. As for you, you had taken your place near the doors, leaning against a pillar and watching from there, admiring Joe's swagger as he walked. Then came your part - shadowing the sheriff. You had followed him to the barber's, and had seen him attracting the attention of...somebody, through the window. When it had looked like he was going to turn around, you had hurried back inside the saloon and leant against the pillar near the entrance. Joe had looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and you had nodded to him, tapping your side where your gun was to indicate for him to get ready. You figured that the rest of Cavanaugh's men still had to take a few long seconds to come, so you watched Joe. Cavanaugh and Joe put the rest of their cards down. Your hand rested on your shooting iron, your finger rubbing the trigger in anticipation; you knew the action was to start soon when Joe took his cigarillo out of his mouth to spit. That, and the fact that you read the words 'your life' on Joe's lips. The men at the table had tensed up and then, Cavanaugh stood straight up from his seat. Joe, forever too quick for any opponent, had used just one hand to pin your target down on to the table, throw him towards the stairs, and then knock him backwards, rolling over the stairs. You knew very well why he was only using one hand - he had to keep the other on his weapon. Cavanaugh still wanted to fight, so Joe had knocked him onto a pillar, hit him in the chest then stomach, his other hand coming up briefly to do just that, and then hit him in the shoulder, sending him careening to a wall. Joe had then held him up against the counter, telling him that it was his choice whether he wanted to be brought back dead or alive. You had almost laughed at this; you were going to kill him anyway. Just then, Cavanaugh's gang had showed up. They took no notice of you as they did not expect a woman to be capable of killing. When one of them asked Joe to let Red go, he had subtly nodded, signalling for you to do your thing. Joe had turned to you to compliment you, to which you merely smiled and was about to tell him of Cavanaugh crawling back to his gun when he had smiled an 'I know' smile and shot him, finishing off with a twirl of the gun before sliding it back into its holster. Then came the collecting of your money and the changing of the sheriff.

You were suddenly snapped out of your reverie by a sharp pain in your shoulder, which you had injured by falling off your mule due to 'women should not be bounty killers' minded men who had fired shots at your mule's feet.   You winced at the pain. Joe was glaring daggers at the man who had placed a hand on your shoulder, the latter not seeming to notice as he said, "So, would you like me to buy you a drink?"