Would y’all be mad at me if I saved the No Good Deed (Eddie Munson x Witch! Reader) WIP for October in order to celebrate Halloween? My goal is for it to have 4-5 parts with each part having 5,000 words
Guess who's been working to midnight because of the holidays? And guess who's been listening to the new Wicked to stay awake. Me!
Well now I've been inspired. I hope you enjoyed it. I did write it pretty late at night.
Not That Boy
Mallues knew not to convent what wasn’t his. His Father, Lilia had taught him. Yet, here he was doing exactly that.
Yuu wasn’t his but how he wanted them but he could see that Yuu didn’t want him like that.
Yuu wanted his adoptive brother, Silver.
Silver who was blithe of smile and lithe of limb. Silver who was practically a story book prince.
Malleus could see it in their eyes. They were in love.
Malleus thought back to the first time their hands touched the sudden silence of the world around him and sudden heat he felt. He thought Yuu looked nearly giddy but maybe he had been wrong. He had been the one who had been giddy.
Yuu could be that person for him, his everything but he wasn’t everything to Yuu.
He wasn’t that boy.
‘Don’t dream too far.’ He thought. He had been told so often that it wasn’t becoming of a King to daydream. ‘Don’t lose sight of who you are.’ They reminded him.
But every so often he enjoyed steal off to the land of what might have been daydreaming of what if Yuu were to choose him even if it didn’t make him feel any better in the end.
Silver was so winsome so it’s understandable he would win Yuu.
That’s the person Yuu chose and everyone knew Mallues wasn’t that boy.
Malleus sometimes wishes he hadn’t starting wishing so much for them, he was only wounding his heart.
Yuu loved a boy, and Malleus knew him and knew it wasn’t him.
“No One Mourns the Wicked Part 1: What is This Feeling?” Low Honor!Arthur Morgan x Low Honor!Reader
For those of you who saw my post about the multi part fic based on a musical, wait no longer because this is the first part! Okay, I know what you’re thinking; ‘Wicked and cowboys? Amber, you’ve really lost it this time!’ Just trust me on this one, and I promise you’ll enjoy ☺️
The first part of this fic was loosely based on the song What Is This Feeling? from the Broadway musical Wicked. I’ve been listening to the soundtrack on repeat for a solid two weeks and it has consumed my life so obviously I had to tie it into my fics.
There has always been a tinge of rivalry between the two of you, one might even say, loathing. Between constant clashing around camp and the stress of being roommates, theres a tension between you and Arthur. What kind of tension you ask? One might say the tension is...wicked.
Part 2
There was only one word to describe how you felt towards Arthur: loathing, pure unadulterated loathing. He’s rubbed you the wrong way ever since you became a part of the gang. He bumps you on purpose as he passes you when your hands are full, he insists on joining jobs you’re on, ‘to ensure your dumbass doesn’t mess it all up.’ And to top it off, you shared a tent.
The two of you were polar opposites as far as you were concerned. He woke you up every morning at the break of dawn, rummaging around loudly as he got ready for the day. You swore he did it on purpose. Usually you didn’t care about clutter, but when you’re forced to share a space with someone you can’t stand it’s like every little sock or shirt on the floor boils your blood.
But what sparked this detestation? It all started years ago, when the two of you were teenagers and you had just been brought into the gang by Dutch. You had only been around three days and most of the camp’s inhabitants came in and out from jobs frequently.
Dutch had asked you to meet him in the local town for a drink, he wanted to discuss your first job with the gang. As you hitched your horse, you noticed a guy around your age leaning against the support beam outside the saloon. Easy pickin’s you thought to yourself. As you passed him; your hand oh so gently entered his pocket, but he turned to you and drew his pistol like lightning.
Shit you thought to yourself as you drew your own, eyes locked on his. There was a tense moment of silence as you faced off, it was ended by Dutch as he rode up and hitched his horse. “Arthur my boy, looks like you’ve already met Y/N.”
Arthur didn’t lower his pistol. “Aw hell Dutch, is this the new blood you was talkin’ about?”
As soon as his eyes shifted towards Dutch, you placed a warning shot at his feet. He jumped back and you gave him a menacing smile. “New blood for you maybe,” you turned to the door to enter the saloon. “But you’ll find yourself dead quickly if you undermine me boy, and don’t you forget that.”
Dutch laughed at the bewildered look on Arthur’s face. He wrapped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, “what a woman! Come on son, I’ll get you twobmore acquainted over a drink.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “I think we’re already more acquainted than I’d like to be.”
“Get over your hurt pride and be nice.” Dutch said quietly as they entered the saloon. The two men approached you, you already had shots down on the table for you, Dutch, and Arthur. Dutch slapped Arthur on the back hard as you looked up at them. “Ah, Y/N lovely as ever. I think Mr. Morgan here would like to apologize to you for gettin’ off on the wrong foot.”
You raised an eyebrow at him and Arthur sputtered and turned to Dutch. “Me apologize? Like hell! She’s the one who tried to rob me! I ain’t apologizin’ for shit.” He crossed his arms defiantly.
“Okay,” You said evenly as you sat up. You snagged the shot glass that was originally for Arthur and knocked it back. “I guess I’ll keep this then.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and slumped in the chair in front of you. “Didn’t want yer damn drink anyways.” He huffed.
Dutch sat beside him, not hiding his amusement at the exchange occurring. He knocked back the shot in front of him. “Thank you, my dear you’re very kind.” Arthur shot him a look. “Now, you have a job you’d like to discuss?”
You nodded, waved over the bartender for more drinks, and leaned in speaking quietly. “Okay so, the plan is....”
That was years ago, but you and Arthur have been on rocky ground at best since then. You could still remember the screaming match the two of you got into when Dutch informed you the two of you would be sharing a tent.
“It’ll teach you two to work and live together...hopefully. You can have your own tents when you learn to get along.” Dutch had said as he walked away. The two of you took Dutch’s word as gospel so you just had to suck it up and deal with it. Needless to say, you were still sharing a tent to this day.
At least with age Arthur became tolerable, and much to your relief, a good bit quieter. When you entered the tent, he was lying on his cot, writing in his journal. He grunted to you as you entered and you threw up your hand in a lazy wave. You plopped down onto the cot, exhausted.
“Haven’t seen you in a few days,” Arthur said quietly. “Started thinkin’ I’d finally lucked out and you got yourself eatten by a bear.” He was hiding his smile behind his journal, teasing you had become one of his favorite pastimes.
“Very funny.” You said keeping your face buried in the pillow.
“Caint hear ya over there, get yer face outta that pillow.”
You sighed and turned your face towards him. “Can you not see I’m tired, Morgan?”
He tore a piece of paper from his journal and started balling it up between his fingers. “Yeah, I can.” Just as your eyes began to flutter closed, he threw the paper ball at you and it hit you right between the eyes. “But I really don’t care.”
Your eyes flew open and your annoyance was building. “You’re lucky I cant feel my legs, or you’d be a deadman.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You use that threat way too much for me to take it seriously anymore.” He looked at you teasingly, “I think I’m startin’ to grow on ya. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you enjoy my company.”
“I enjoy having a roof over my head and a safe place to stay.” You retorted flatly. “And I don’t think Dutch would be very keen on lettin’ me stick around if I killed you.”
Arthur threw another paper wad at you, “so what you’re saying is your threats are pointless?”
“That’s it!” You lunged across the room and straddled him down under you. Your hands pinned his wrists to the bed. “I swear to God Morgan if you don’t leave me the hell alone, I will end you!” Your eyes met his and he had a strange look in his eye.
“Arthur could you-“ John poked his head into the tent, looked at the two of you and poked his head back out quickly. You heard him laughing. “Never mind, I’ll leave you two at it!”
You looked down and felt an embarrassing amount of heat rise to your cheeks when you realized what sort of position you were in. You jumped off him quickly. “Going so soon?” Arthur teased. “But we were just gettin’ to the good stuff.”
You rolled your eyes and left the tent. “In your dreams, Morgan.”
Arthur stared at the ceiling of the tent and readjusted himself. His mind kept reeling back to the way your body felt up against his, your face inches from his, pinning him hard to the bed. He couldn’t shake these thoughts no matter how hard he tried. You drove him crazy, but not always in a bad way. You were stubborn, arrogant, and always did things your way even if it endangered the plans. In a way you reminded him of himself, the way you always had a witty comeback or the way your lip curled up in disgust when you were angry. What was this feeling? He had decided loathing, but his hardened member was telling him otherwise. He bit his lip and watched the closed flaps. A pair of your dirty underwear was halfway under your bed and he stared at it for a moment before grabbing it. What the hell are you doing? His brain screamed at him. He knew it was wrong, but the thought of your hips pressed down against his groin invaded his mind again. As he sat on the bed, the thought of you returning made him feel conflicted. In all reality, you would be beyond pissed to come back and find him pleasuring himself, a pair of your used bloomers in his hand. But, the thought of you coming back and seeing him sent a shiver down his spine. He imagined your voice turning silky smooth, lust in your eyes as you took his hardened cock in your hands and pumped him slowly. He heard footsteps approaching the tent, he quickly tucked your underwear in his pocket and laid on his stomach. There was a gentle rap against the tent flaps, “decent?” You called from outside the tent.
Arthur rolled his eyes, “not decent!” He called back. His hips rolled against the bed at the sound of your voice.
“Ugh, well get yer self decent, Dutch wants us to go and stake out Caliga Hall. Meet me at the hitching posts when you’re ready.” You called to him, and he listened as your footsteps faded away. Your voice had that annoying belittling tone that he hated and he knew if he wasn’t out there soon, you would drag him out of the tent by his ankles. He sighed heavily and shoved your underwear into his satchel and tried to focus his thoughts so the bulge in his pants would fade away.
He grabbed his hat and left the tent. He approached you and Dutch and as you spotted him, you mounted your horse. Arthur’s gaze landed on your ass as you pulled yourself up. “Get a move on, you lazy ass!” You called to him. Your voice was heavy in annoyance and your impatience was written clearly on your face.
“I’m comin’ goddamn it.” He grumbled. This was what made him so angry towards you, the way you bossed him around and treated him like some grunt around camp made his blood boil. He mounted his horse and Dutch took off first with you right behind him. You shot a smug glance back at him as you rode beside Dutch. The two of you always got competitive when riding, especially with Dutch. There were multiple horse collisions throughout the years due to this rivalry, but his eyes trailed down your back slowly and a term he had heard but never understood floated into his mind, hate fuck. He remembered Micah retell a story around the fire late one night, all the girls had gone to bed so the men were discussing their various sexcapades. Arthur remembered with disgust and confusion as Micah described his experience with a woman he met in a bar. He couldn’t stand her, the way she talked, her voice, her personality, he hated everything about her and he said that’s what made it so good. A couple of the men agreed, it made it easier to get rough and they didn’t feel as bad about one night stands.
Arthur would never admit it, but he really hated one night stands. He only did it once, and it left him feeling empty, even though he never saw her again she burned in his mind for weeks afterwards. He barely knew her but the emotional attachment of being so vulnerable with someone was too overwhelming. Unfortunately being so long between the tender touch of a woman, saying he was sexually frustrated was an understatement. It didn’t help sharing a tent with a woman either. Even though he drove you crazy, you were still comfortable enough with him to change in front of him, you would turn away from him of course and make him swear to close his eyes. He only peeked when he was certain you weren’t looking and he would be lying if he said he had never pleasured himself to the thought of you. He told himself it was just because he lived in such close quarters with you, it’s not like he wanted you. Okay, maybe he wanted your body but did he want you? Your shitty attitude? Your smart mouth? On that he was quite certain he didn’t want.
“So, what’s the plan Dutch?” You asked as you pulled your horse beside Dutch.
“We’re gonna check out the layout of Caliga Hall. The lovely Mrs. Braithwaite has asked us to torch their tobacco fields.”
“Wonderful!” You exclaimed wickedly.
Dutch nodded. “After we stake it out, I want you and Arthur to come back after daylight and burn it to the ground. Right now we’ll be looking for hidden entrances, holes in the guard, any little sliver you can sneak in and out of with minimal alarm.”
You barked a short laugh. “Minimal alarm? I think that’s a bit of an understatement.”
“That’s why you’ll have Arthur, as back up when things get hairy.”
You groaned. “Come on, Dutch! You know I can do this on my own!”
“I know sweetheart, but ya just gotta trust me. And give the guy a break, will ya? He ain’t so bad when ya get used to ‘em.”
You rolled your eyes. Dutch was right and you knew it. Arthur wasn’t the worst man around camp, that’s for sure but it seemed like with every glance between the two of you, this feeling sparked within you, something strong and powerful and for lack of a better word, you went with loathing. Your stomach flipped whenever he said your name, and your heart jumps when he walks into the tent after a long day away from camp. You thought it was hatred, but hatred was reserved for the likes of Micah. Was it anger? It had a burning feeling similar to anger, but without the uncontrollable rage behind it. You decided loathing was a good name for whatever this feeling was, or atleast that’s what you hoped it was.
You slowed your horses and dismounted as you came upon a hill overlooking Caliga Hall. You pulled out your binoculars and laid flat against the ground beside Dutch. Arthur pulled in not far behind you and followed suit.
“Every entrance is guarded, and it looks like they’ve hired some extra muscle.” Arthur whispered.
“If we come in from the west side, there’s a small breach in the fence.” You pointed to the edge of the field and one of the posts in the fence was broken. “I’ll douse the fields, Arthur you keep watch on the hill, bring your rifle and you can snipe them off when I ingnite the fields.”
“No,” Arthur hissed. “I will do the dousing and you can be the watch dog.”
You opened your mouth to argue but Dutch cut you off. “No, you’ll both go down and douse the fields, then one of you will take out the guards while the other starts the fire with that barn over there.” Dutch’s finger pointed, and followed along as he talked. “That’s where they dry and process the tobacco leaves. Then you’ll light up the fields. Arthur, you take out the guards in the fields while Y/N gets the barn burning. Once that barn lights up, you’ll have all their men coming down on you.” Dutch lowered his binoculars and looked at you. “Once they start comin’ you two need to book it the hell outta there. You hear me Y/N? No gettin’ greedy out there. You too, Arthur.”
The two of you nodded in unison and Dutch stood. “Let’s head back to camp. You’ll need the moonshine from the Braithwaites to ignite the fields. See if Sean has any fire bottles you can use. If not, get him to show you how to make them.” He mounted his horse. “You two are my best men, I know you won’t let me down. I’ll see you back at camp.” And he was off, leaving only a cloud of dust.
You stood and extended a hand down to Arthur. He took it and groaned as he stood. “Jesus Arthur, you must be gettin’ old groanin’ about like that.” You teased.
“Yeah, well we’re the same age so if I’m old, so are you.” He mounted his horse. “I’ll catch you at camp later, I’ve got a quick errand to run.”
“Need me to come with?” You asked as you climbed up your horse.
Arthur flushed and tipped his hat down to cover his face. “Jesus what are you, my mama? I can handle this myself.” With a quick pull at the reigns he was off.
“I was just tryin’ to be nice damnit!” You snapped back. You didn’t mean to sound so hostile, but he ignored you. He knew being ignored was a big pet peeve of yours and it made you even angrier knowing he knew that. “I’m gonna kill that man one day.” You grumbled as you led your horse down the trail.
Arthur felt a pang if guilt when he heard the slightest note of hurt when you called after him, but he couldn’t help but panic when you offered to join him. He certainly didn’t want you following him so he made sure to check over his shoulder multiple times as he tore down the trail. When he was certain he was alone, he peeled off the trail and deep into the trees of a small forest that ran along the path. The trees were thick and he made sure he was deep enough to not be disturbed. He unmounted his horse and grabbed his satchel; as he turned away he realized how awkward his horse would make this just dumbly staring at him. With a swift slap to the hindquarters, the horse dashed away towards the main road. He let out a heavy breath as he pulled out your underwear. He allowed himself to think about earlier this morning, you pinning him to his cot. He thought of your bare back between changing shirts. The way that one button down you have is a little too snug over your chest, causing the material to part between buttons. He thought of the way your ass looked in the riding pants you wore today. It didn’t take much to get him hard, he unzipped his trousers and brought your undies to his face. With a deep inhale, he began pumping himself. He was desperately wishing you had followed him.
“Hey Y/N, welcome back!” Lenny called as you hitched your horse. He looked around you, “No Arthur, huh? Did ya finally lose your patience and feed him to the wolves?”
You laughed as you headed towards your tent. “Not this time, unfortunately!”
When you got to your tent, you rummaged through your things until you found the shirt you were looking for. It was darker and a little tighter, better for stealthier missions as the dark fabric didn’t stand out at night and tighter material didn’t make as much noise rustling against your body. The buttons were a bit tight to your chest, but it didn’t matter as long as it did it’s job. After you changed your shirt and got your things together you went out to find Sean. He was sat in front of the fire with a drink in his hand. You came up behind him and grabbed the bottle from his hand quickly. “Oi! What’s the big idea?” He exclaimed as he jumped up.
“I need some fire bottles. How many ya got?” You asked as you handed him back his bottle of whiskey.
He took a quick swig, “I only got two put together right now, I’ll have to make more if you need more than that.”
You nodded. “I’ve been meanin’ to get you to show me how to make those for awhile now, after you.”
You followed him to his tent and he began pulling out the supplies and walked you through the process. It was fairly simple and between the two of you putting them together you had more than enough in no time. Sean helped you carefully load them onto your horse and you thanked him as he left. He threw up a wave as he wandered back to the fire. Just as you began towards your tent you heard the clomping of hooves and turned to see Arthur barreling into camp. He stopped his horse just in front of you and dismounted. “Welcome back.” You greeted him and matched his pace as he walked towards the tent. “How was your errand?”
He eyed you under the brim of his hat, he couldn’t help but notice the exact shirt he had just been thinking of. He cleared his throat. “Fine. Probably could’ve used your help.” He allowed himself a sneaking smile.
You looked at him and rolled your eyes. “Ugh, you’re gonna get yourself killed one day, you know that? Grab me next time.”
He had to hide his blush, “I’ll keep that in mind.” You opened the tent flap and held it open for him as you passed through. “I’ve already got my things together. I’m going to try and get some shut eye. Try not to be too noisy getting your things together for once, okay?”
He rolled his eyes. “No promises.”
You sighed in annoyance as you laid on your side and closed your eyes. “Why do I even bother?” You muttered.
Arthur breathed a laugh and began loading his satchel with supplies. As he was digging his hands found the cotton material of your bloomers and his face went hot. He turned to make sure your eyes were closed and quickly shoved them under his mattress. His eyes trailed back to you, the way you were laying was causing more distress in the buttons over your bust more distress than usual and one had popped undone. He could barely see the skin under the shirt, but that’s all it took and he could feel his pants getting tighter. “Shit.” He breathed. Your eyes opened slightly, “What is it?” You asked in a sleepy voice.
He turned himself away from you. “Nothing, just go back to sleep.”
You groaned and shut your eyes. Arthur sighed and made a promise to himself he wouldn’t look at you for the rest of the night.
It didn’t take long for him to break that promise. After your breathing evened in a deep slumber a small moan escaped your lips and Arthur’s gaze shot to your face faster than he could control. Your lips were just barely parted and your face had softened with sleep. Maybe we could work, he thought. If she was this quiet all the time.
But as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had slowly begun to find your banter charming, if not just a little bit annoying. He found himself looking at you more often lately, and he also couldn’t help but notice more frequent trips to the woods with you on the forefront of his mind. He shook it off, but it was slowly becoming harder and harder to shake. He didn’t know what his feelings meant and that was what fueled his frustration towards you. But when he looked down on you like this, he could pretend you were just a normal girl and he was a normal guy. He could pretend the two of you weren’t cold hearted killers, but why did he pretend these things? He told himself you were just there, right place right time. You were a sort of place holder for a woman in his life. He only thought of you when touching himself because he had no one else to think of. But that wasn’t entirely true there were plenty of good looking women around camp, so why did he always think of you? Arthur didn’t like the way his thoughts were headed so he pushed the away. He grabbed his journal and headed out of the tent, hoping some drawing would clear his thoughts.
When you woke up, the sun was just beginning to set. You sat up and stretched. “Mornin’.”
Arthur was laying on his cot on the other side of the tent.
You yawned. “Hey.” You grabbed your hat from the night stand. “You ready?”
His hat was sitting on top of his face and his arms were tucked behind his head. Your eyes trailed his muscular arms, he was quite handsome when his mouth was shut. He didn’t remove the hat when he spoke. “Not yet.”
You scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired now. You had plenty of time to nap earlier.”
Arthur took the hat from his face and looked out the open tent flaps. “Ain’t dark enough yet.” He paused before putting the hat back over his face. He pointed down at your chest.
You looked down, noticed the button and fixed it. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
You looked around the room, bored. “So,” You began. “What kinda errands were you runnin’ today?”
“None yer business.” He was glad the hat covered his face, he would rather eat shit than let you see him blush.
You groaned. “Ugh, why are you always so difficult?”
“I could ask you the same question.” He responded.
“Damn it Arthur, move that hat I can barely understand what yer sayin’!” You threw your pillow at him and knocked the hat from his face. “Hey! Watch where you throw that thing!” He threw it back at you with a little more force than necessary.
You caught it and rolled your eyes. “You’re such a child. I’m goin’ to see if Pearson’s got dinner ready.”
He sat up, “can you bring me some?”
You gave him a sweet smile. “Eat shit, Arthur.” And you disappeared behind the closed flaps of the tent.
Arthur smiled, couldn’t have said it better myself.
You exited the tent at the perfect time, Pearson had just begun serving dinner. You stood in line patiently and as you turned to sit at the fire with your food you noticed Arthur emerge from the tent and make his way to the dinner line. John plopped down beside you. “Where’s your man?” He teased.
You rolled your eyes. “Ain’t got one, where’s yours?”
“Very funny.” John elbowed you, “don’t act like I didn’t see you and Arthur gettin’ cozy this morning.”
“Pfft, please. I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.” You tried to keep your voice steady and casual.
“I’d believe ya, but yer cheeks are mighty red!” John teased.
“Don’t you got someone else to bother?” You snapped. “What you saw was me about to strangle Arthur from pure annoyance and nothin’ else.” Your tone was more defensive than you intended, why did you care what John thought?
He stood, “Whatever you say.” He turned to leave then stopped. “It’ll happen one day ya know.” And he left before you could respond. You looked down into your stew. You couldn’t figure out why John’s words bothered you so much. They left your stomach in knots. A heavy hand fell on your shoulder.
“You ready?” You nodded up to Arthur and finished the remaining stew in your bowl.
“Let’s do this.”
The sky was now completely black with night, and fate must’ve been on your side as the clouds were covering the moon, leaving very minimal light. The only light around was from the torches of the guards in the field. You and Arthur split, he took the fields on the right, and you the left. You snuck quietly through the fields, draining the big jug of moonshine as you went. As you finished, you headed to the barn. Shit. There was a man standing directly in front of the barn doors. You turned and saw Arthur across the fields. He caught your eye, picked up a small stone and threw it. “Hey, who’s there?” The man trailed off in the direction of the noise and Arthur gave you a thumbs up.
Arthur watched you slip into the barn and he pulled his knife. Four guards were more than easy enough. He quietly snuck up on one after the other, covering their mouths, pulling them down, and sticking them with his knife. The most noise any of them made was a gurgle. After he finished the last guard in the fields, he headed towards the barn.
As you opened the door to the barn, a man turned to you. “H-“ your throwing knife landed between his eyes before he could get the word out. You removed the knife and began dousing the tobacco hanging from the walls and ceiling. After the last drop of moonshine dropped the from jug, you nodded to yourself. You pushed the barn door open and almost ran straight into Arthur. “Good timing. You ready to burn this bitch to the ground?” You whisper, adrenaline already pumping.
Arthur handed you a fire bottle, “I’ll give you the honors.”
“How sweet.” You said as he laid the bottle in your hand.
“Now, as soon as this barn goes up we’re gonna need to-“ Arthur was cut off with an explosion of heat and fire. You were giddy with adrenaline and didn’t even hear him speak. Angry voices were immediately headed towards the barn. With a silent nod to each other you split. Arthur pulled his repeater and you took the bag of fire bottles. You ran threw the fields like a child, throwing fire bottles like a flower girl tosses petals down the aisle of a wedding. The sound of bullets flying and fire blazing was like a symphony to you. In all the chaos you felt most alive.
A cry shook you to the core. You turned and against the light of the flames you saw Arthur fall. Everything went slow motion as his body hit the ground. Your body moved faster than it ever has, tossing bottles at the men closing in on Arthur. It kept them at bay long enough for you to grab Arthur and fling him over your shoulder. “You alive?” You asked. Your voice shook.
“Yeah.” He groaned. “Just took a bullet to the leg.”
You picked up his repeater and whistled for your horse. “Good. Don’t go dyin’ on me just yet.”
You kept as fast a pace as you could, tossing fire bottles behind you as you went. Bullets flew passed you as you hobbled with Arthur on your back. Your horse came flying down to you and you flung Arthur on the back of your horse. He grunted with pain when you threw him down. You grabbed his repeater and turned back to the fire. Men were coming through quickly. You tore through them with deadly accuracy, but they were coming in too fast. You climbed on the horse and dug your spurs in deep. “Come on girl, let’s ride!” You turned and looked down at Arthur. “If you’re still awake down there, whistle for your horse. I’m gonna need to lose your extra weight if you expect to get out of here alive.”
He didn’t say anything, he brought his fingers to his lips and let out a loud whistle. Bullets were whizzing by you and you turned to return the fire. Men fell behind you as you went, but more took their place. Arthur’s horse came quickly andbyou stopped to help him up. You gave him back his repeater and pulled out your pistol. You needed to help Arthur on his horse, but you also needed to shoot the men coming towards you. As you helped him down, you shot wildly, your concentration split. Arthur was losing blood quickly and he was having a hard time keeping his balance. You had one last fire bottle, and if you timed it perfectly, you could take out most of the men in one fell swoop. After Arthur got mounted, you slapped his horse’s rear. “Get outta here, I’ll be right behind you.”
Bullets flew passed you as you stood your ground. 3...2...1...Now! You threw the bottle with perfect precision and it did it’s job. You mounted quickly as the screams of your enemies echoed through the night. It stirred a sick desire in your heart and you felt more alive than you ever had. You rode hard and found Arthur’s horse stopped just up the road. “What the hell are you doin’? You coulda-“ you stopped. “Shit, Arthur!” He was slumped against his horse unconscious. His white horse was stained with the red of his blood and you felt an intense urgency. You tethered his horse to yours and rode a little farther down, a safer distance for camping.
You pulled the horses into a thicket off the trail. You started a fire quickly and pulled Arthur down off his horse. “Damn it, Arthur.” You groaned. “Heavy bastard.” You dropped him to the ground quickly.
“Ow.” He groaned.
“Glad to see you’re still kickin’.” You said, trying to keep your composure.
“I’m surprised you care.” His voice was low and raspy.
“Yeah, me too. First thing we gotta do is get this bullet out, okay?” You handed him a bottle of whiskey. “I’m sorry, this is gonna hurt pretty bad.”
You dug your knife into the bullet wound and he winced and gasped in pain. The sound of his agony caused tears to prick your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You croaked over and over again, until you dug the bullet out.
Arthur was breathing heavily through the pain. “I always thought you liked hurting me.” He took a swig of whiskey then handed it to you. You took a swig and poured it into his wound. “Aughhh! Damn it that hurts!”
“I know, sweetie I know.” Your voice was heavy with concern and it made Arthur’s heart lurch. He had never seen your face contorted in such worry and fear, and over him no less. You never used a pet name for him before either, unless you would consider ‘jackass’ a pet name.
“I know you’re in a lot of pain, but I need to cauterize the wound.” Your eyes were focused on his leg, trying to keep your mind as steady and clear as possible.
“I know, just do what you have to do.” Arthur clenched his jaw and prepared himself for the pain.
You stuck the blade of your knife into the fire and kept it there until it was red hot. “You ready?”
He let out a shaky breath and brought his arm over his face. You inserted the knife into the bullet wound and he thrashed wildly against you, stifling his screams into his arm. You looked up at him and he was biting deep into his forearm. The way the pain twisted his face broke you. Tears fell from your eyes as you twisted the blade, the smell of burning flesh invading your nostrils. It only took him seconds to pass out from the pain, but those seconds were brutal. You checked his pulse after removing the blade and wiped the tears from your face. You took the bandages from your satchel and wrapped his leg carefully.
Your body was shaking all over and you had to choke back the oncoming sobs. You had no idea what had come over you, the sight of Arthur’s body falling to the ground replayed over and over again in your head and it terrified you. But what terrified you more was the realization you didn’t want to be without him. It shook you to the core when you realized you needed him. You wanted to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be okay. This feeling, does it have a name? You thought it was loathing, but now you’re not sure. He looked so vulnerable resting against a boulder near the fire. You brought the whiskey bottle to your lips and drank deeply. With each gulp of alcohol, you stared at Arthur and contemplated what you were feeling. You always knew he was handsome, that was a given. But was it also a given for you to yearn for him like you did? You found yourself envisioning the way his arms would feel around you and it invoked a deep hunger from within. This new feeling was invading your every thought and you couldn’t escape it. With liquid courage running through your veins your willpower weakened, and you found yourself scooting yourself closer to him. He was still unconscious and you studied his face. His thick beard hid his sharp jawline, but you could see the outline from the light of the flame. Before you could help yourself you found your fingers gently brushing his beard. It was so much softer than you imagined. You looked down at his big hand and picked it up with your bother hand. It was warm and rough, covered in calluses and scars. You put your fingers between his and leaned your head against the boulder. You leaned your head against his shoulder. He was so warm and soft, you nuzzled your face into the crook between his neck and shoulder. You had no idea when sleep took you, but it held you deeply.
Arthur stirred early and the first thing he felt was your even breathing on his collar bone. He opened his eyes and looked down to find you curled into his side, loosely clutching his hand. He winced in pain as he shifted and he remembered the night before. He remembered you taking care of his wounds, and right before he blacked out he could’ve sworn he heard the sound of you crying. Over him though? There was no way. But, you were also curled up in his side clinging to him desperately. He moved slowly, careful not to disturb you. He couldn’t put weight on his leg, so when he tried to stand, he just fell to the ground with a heavy painful thud. “Goddamn it,” He groaned.
The sound of him falling woke you instantly. You sat up quickly and when your eyes fell to him, you had to fight the urge to roll them. You stood, “Damn it, Arthur. I just digged a bullet from your leg, you know better than to try and stand.”
“Yeah,” he groaned as you wrapped your arm under his and helped him up, supporting his weight. “I just didn’t wanna wake ya is all.” You pulled him to his horse and helped him up on his saddle.
“Since when? I thought it was your personal goal every morning to wake me with your incessant noise.” Your voice wasn’t as pointed and antagonizing as usual.
You took down the camp quickly and mounted your horse. “Let’s get you back to home, darlin’.”
Arthur looked up at you in surprise and you looked away. Again with the pet names, plus he could’ve sworn there was a flush of pink across your cheeks. He felt a deep yearning within him, but didn’t fight quite so hard to repress it.
The ride back to camp was silent. The two of you were lost in your own thoughts. Neither of you thought these feelings were loathing but neither of you had a name for what was gripping them so tightly, making their hearts feel light and their stomachs knot when the other looked at them. Maybe this feeling wasn’t loathing, if not what was it?
He was dead. He was dead. He was dead, because she had thought she was doing something good. Her good intentions had turned and reared up and struck him down, and now he was dead.
Mab stood, her small wings hanging at her back, the singular forewings twitching erratically, shaking her upper body through and through. Her breath came in gasps, her fist clenched, bunched up into the fabric of her tunic.
Somewhere, she was aware that Thel and Lilith were holding her up, cooing gently at her, asking her if she was allright, but very little was registering with Mab, the sounds of the outside world coming through muffles, through a dense fog in her mind, save for one sound.
A small, quiet, huff of laughter.
She could feel the chill of Oona's smirk, subtle as it was, and the woman's contemp-filled stare boring into the top of Mab's skull as she tried to catch her breath.
The little yellow wing clenched her teeth, biting back a hot feeling in the back of her throat that threatened to bubble up and out of her mouth with heedless abandon. She was still in the presence of the other Kaa'j. She had to watch her temper; she had to behave; she had to---
She had to--
She...
Mab ripped herself from her contemporaries' grips with little effort, her upper body conditioned from decades of whittling and climbing trees and fighting Outland creatures. The Inland Ladies had little chance of holding her back as she threw herself across the packed earth, hands outstretched for Oona. Before her fingers could wrap around the other woman's throat, magic shot from them, electrifying bolts of bright pink marbled with blue, that seemed to pull with it a scream from Mab that threatened to rupture her throat. She could feel the heat in her chest being released through the noise, but didn't care.
Try as the other Fairy might to dodge Mab, it had come too fast, and her fingers connected with the lacy front of Oona's dress. There was another shout, this time from somewhere behind her - Lilith, probably - and Mab threw Oona to the ground with a well-placed tug and a lurch of her upper body.
And down they both went, Oona hitting the ground hard with her aggressor. They hit hard, rolled, came to a stop, and beneath her right shoulder, Oona felt an alarming nothing, a sharp end to the earth beneath her, and a steep drop. Her heart lodged firmly in her throat, choking the scream that came out as Mab held her hands to the woman's temples, fingers digging into her scalp as she let loose every ounce of magic she could muster. Oona's vision swam, ears ringing so loud it drowned everything out, and while part of her could do little more than laugh at the Gentry's anger, this agression coming from someone who had never lifted a hand to another Fairy before, the rest of her was terrified.
Mab had never lifted a hand to another Fairy before. Not as long as Oona had known her. No, Mab had always been agreeable, sweet, gentle - and to see - or rather, feel - this version of the woman was a proper terror.
But her worried were short-lived. Thel and Lilith, again, grabbed hold of Mab around the middle, pulling her back away from the fallen Korred with no little amount of protest.
Oona's head fell back as she tried to focus on the cliff face that jutted above her, her vision swiming back into place lazily, like a fuzzy video frame. He heartrate began to return to normal, and Oona took a deep, steadying breath--
--which was neatly kicked out of her. As they dragged her away, Mab landed one las kick to Oona's middle, and the woman lying on the ground, with few of her sense returned, stunned, was pushed, rolling another inch across the cracking earth, but an inch was all that was needed.
