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Bill's a stuttering mess, as always, struggling to keep eye contact as he attempts to talk to you. "I got you something," he manages to blurt out, his cheeks turning salmon red. You knew he had something for you the second he began approaching, his hands behind his back, and a nervous expression across his face.
"Oh?" you curiously sigh. "What is it?"
"I... uh.... here-" Bill exclaims, and almost shoves the bouquet of flowers into your arms.
You take the bouquet, fawning over the array of colours, shapes, sizes, and so on. There's a mishmash of plants, wrapped together in a ribbon, and to your surprise, the bouquet is neatly presented - not that you have any doubts in Bill.
You let out a sigh. "Thank you, Bill."
Bill pauses before searching for reassurance. "You like them?" he nervously asks.
"Of course, I do," you smile, and take a small step forward to plant a kiss on his cheek.
Bill's face continues turning redder as every second passes, and he stutters an excuse before scurrying away, leaving you to take the bouquet over to your tent and place them in a vase.
Should you tell him that some of them are weeds?
Speaking of old man Micah would you be interested in writing a one shot where he reunites with his s/o from the gang? Either pre epilogue or during the epilogue, whatever prompt inspires more!
SORRY this ask also drowned in my inbox, but I managed to fish it out!!
Wouldn’t it be a shame if you escaped just before it all kicked off at Beaver Hollow? And had to rely on what the papers told you to piece together what happened? Do you think Micah would ever tell you the truth? I think not.
Gender-neutral reader!
This isn't the first time you've been robbed, or attempted to be robbed. Being a gun for hire isn't too bad of a job, especially with your gunslinging background. Sure, you've had many close encounters with bullets, but you're trigger happy and this job satisfies your urges.
You're riding through Big Valley, accompanying a stagecoach of fancy folk heading from Blackwater. They wanted to take a more scenic route to Valentine, so they were being driven through one of the prettiest plains that New Handover has ever seen.
It was no surprise when a bunch of no goods jumped out from the trees, demanding you stopped and handed them everything they had. You're outnumbered, yes, but these men looked weak - skinny and infested, their skin red and itchy, malnourished. That's probably why they were hoping their posse number would scare you, but it didn't.
"Come on now, just hand it over. No need for folk to get shot," one of them tells you.
"The only folk gettin' shot here is you. Put your guns down, little boy," you tell him, your pistols at the ready. The driver is also pointing his shotgun.
"Little boy?" he laughs. "You better watch that mouth else I'll put it to better use," he snickers.
"You ever seen someone get their tongue cut out before? It's real nasty, and I'd be happy to show ya," you tell him.
You overhear a few more gang members approaching from horseback behind you, though they seemed to have stopped a little further out from the group. The lockbox on the back of the coach seems safe, for now.
"I think this ones itchin’ for a fight, boys," you overhear one of the men behind you say. And his voice seems... familiar. He sounds like he has flem and tobacco stuck in his throat and has given up on trying to get it out.
You keep your head forward.
"I've got twelve bullets here, boys. More than enough for each of ya."
"And we've got a lot more than that, sweetheart," another man from behind you says. This time you have to look, that voice rings a very loud bell, and you can already feel your heart sinking and your stomach turning.
You slowly look over your shoulder, guns still at the ready, pointing forward, but you subconsciously lower them slightly as you figure out who that voice belongs to.
"Micah?" you question, eyes meeting his, or one of his. There's a very distinct scar over his left eye, starting at his nose and trailing above his brow. He still wears that same white hat, and a brown leather coat that you haven't seen since you were huddled up in Colter with him, all those years ago.
"Hello, sweetheart," Micah greets you, trotting his mount forward slowly and stopping beside you. He looks up at you before dismounting, standing below the carriage. "You gonna come down from there and greet me properly?" Micah asks you, offering his hand.
"You tell your men to put their guns away first. I'm on the job, Micah," you tell him.
"You heard ‘em. Guns away, we is lettin' this lot go," Micah orders them in a raised voice.
"Let them go?" Joe huffs, scowling forward at Micah. You knew it was him! Still as ugly as you remember.
"You heard me, didn't ya? Let them go."
"Fine," Joe spits, holstering his guns. The rest of Micahs men follow, along with yourself, though the driver keeps his shotgun on his lap.
"Well?" Micah asks as he looks up at you, flexing his hand as it's still raised, waiting for you. You take it, your gloved hands meeting his for the first time in years. He helps you down from the carriage, a soft smile on his lips. He still has the same mustache, though his hairs are almost fully grey. His length has gone, his hair short and swept back, and it surprisingly suits him.
"Been a while, ain't it?" Micah asks you, his hand still in yours.
"It has," you tell him.
"I went looking for you, you know," Micah informs you. You had escaped before the disaster went down, helping Tilly and Mary-Beth escape in the back of Pearson's wagon. After that, you headed back West, trying to get far away from that mess. You saw in the newspaper that Arthur had been killed by Pinkertons, the gang was no more, and everybody had gone their separate ways.
"I heard the Pinkertons finally caught up to y'all," you tell him. "Did you ever find out who the rat was?" you ask.
Micah lets out a long sigh before telling you "I'm afraid we didn't, sweetheart. Guess we'll never know," he shakes his head.
"Real shame. I was lookin' forward to cuttin' their balls off."
You feel Micahs hand tighten slightly around yours. He takes your other hand in his, raising them up to his chest tenderly.
"Where is you holdin' up? I don't wanna keep you from doin' your job so I'll pop by. Gotta let these fine folk get to wherever they're headin'," Micah says, sending a fake smile over to the strangers in the back of the stagecoach.
"Here, actually. A little cabin just up in the trees over there," you tell him as you point down towards the valley.
"How strange. I been roaming these parts for a while now and I ain't ever seen no sign of you," Micah says.
"I spend most of my time on the road, workin' and all that," you shrug. "I'll be back in a few days. Why don't you pop by in a weeks time?" you ask.
"Course. I'll be there, sweetheart," Micah smiles. "Now, I ain't gonna keep you away from your job any longer," Micah tells you as his thumbs stroke over the back of your hands, still pressed against his chest.
"You better not," you joke. "You get goin' now, and take your men with you," you tell him, letting go of his hands so you can climb back up onto the coach.
"Of course. Anythin' for you, darlin'," Micah says as he climbs onto the back of his mount. "I'll be seeing you soon," he smiles.
Micah gives you one last look before riding off, his men in tow, the sound of hooves heavy as they echo through the valley. The stagecoach driver doesn't say anything, he just gives the reigns a whip and you're back on your way.
That warm feeling remains in your stomach for the rest of your journey, accompanying you as you ride back to your homestead, and it gets even warmer when you see Micahs horse already hitched up outside. It's no surprise that he probably picked the lock and snuck in, but you don't mind. That's Micah for you.
I saw your post about your ex and he can rot! I had a similar situation happen to me and you can tell those people are narcissists when that happens. It’s as if they feed off your energy to sustain themselves. I’m so glad you’re in a better situation now!
ahhhh thank you so much!! they definitely do, they just suck the soul outta you :s
Hey! Just want you to know that I’m sorry that you have too keep justifying the characters you like :( just know that I love your Micah fanfics and you keep me well fed with all of your fics LMAO please never stop!
THANK YOU!!!<3 I’m glad people enjoy my work. Nothing wrong with enjoying a well written character:’)
Thank you so much for the Star Wars content!!! I used to be such an avid follower of Star Wars fanfics but after tlj it kind of fell off the map for me but you brought back my excitement for it!! Keep up with the amazing work :*)
god i LOVE star wars, i just find it sometimes hard to write for? cause basic shit like glass is called something totally different in the star wars universe, and I'm too lazy to research it xD
but I'm glad u enjoyed!! will deffo write more in future >:3
