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say-hwaet · 3 months ago

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If I Had to Do it All Again

Chapter 14: The Callander Brothers Next Chapter: fifteen Summary: In a rare moment of bonding time with the old guard, Arthur, Dutch, and John are caught up in a bar fight. Warnings: Mature themes, language, violence Word Count: ~8,000

The earth is cool beneath you as you lie on your back and look at the sky. The children are taking their afternoon nap, allowing you a quiet moment to yourself. Your eye catches a Quaking Aspen leaf break from its hold and falls softly, gently downward. It lands just beside your face, along with the many others that have fallen, creating a bed of gold surrounding you.

You’ve missed Idaho. If you were ambitious enough you could travel southward and make it back to Aspen’s Way. You’re tempted, but you made a silent vow that you would stay long enough for Abigail’s pregnancy. Figuring the time and the size that she is, she’s about six months pregnant. She will be having a winter baby.

You hope to travel south before then. Having a baby in the dead of winter is no picnic, and you’re glad that you don’t have to experience that again.

Unless…

No, you can’t think about that.

You blink to let the thought fade away and rest a hand on the spine of your book as it lays open on your stomach. You found it in your tent one day, shortly after Arthur came back with a broken nose. It’s the History of the Gaels, battles and figures etched into the fabric of time long gone. You’ve always had a taste for history, and you imagine that you would have made a decent teacher if you were given the chance. Thoughts and dreams linger in your mind as you cast your eyes at the blue sky, thinking about your own history, and how it's intertwined with the man who keeps leaving and returning like the seasons.

Since the battle with the O’Driscolls, Arthur has been on more frequent jobs. Things seem to be going well in terms of success, and the gang seems to be sitting comfortably. You’ve noticed that provisions have improved, changing from salted offal and hardtack to canned strawberries and cheeses. You and Pearson have been able to cook things other than stews, like biscuits in the Dutch oven and thick cuts of pan-fried venison steaks.

And with fall now here, you feel the foreboding urgency to ready yourself and your children for winter.

And get what you need to help Abigail prepare for delivery.

Things have become stagnant between her and John. No more teasing and exchanged glances, just silent pauses and awkward stances. You aren’t sure if John rejects the baby, but he isn’t stepping forward to accept it either. Abigail, though tough as nails, carries worry in the lines around her eyes, fearing she might raise this child alone. You’ve taken it upon yourself to be there for her, especially since you understand the loneliness that gnaws at a mother's heart.

You sigh deeply, turning your attention back to the book, and you sit up to get in a comfortable position to read it. You flip the book away from your abdomen, letting it rest in your hands and you tuck some loose hair behind your ear. The heat of the sun is warm against your back, contrasting the cool breeze that sweeps into the leaves of the trees. More leaves fall down like gentle rain but you don’t mind.

Interrupting your reading of Dunadd kings, a gentle rumble calls your name. “Eliza.”

You look up and casting a shadow over you is Arthur. You eye his nose, healed up now, but the shape of its bridge is forever altered. His eyes, still sharp as ever, carry a heaviness—a weariness from the roads traveled and the weight of leading a life that never strays far from danger.

“The children up from their nap?” you ask, shifting the book to your lap, attempting to mask the stir of emotions his sudden presence always ignites in you.

He smiles softly, shaking his head. “No,” he answers, and he eases himself to sit down, moving to sit closer to you. “Just thought I’d come find you before I head out.”

“Oh?” You close your book, your curiosity now found elsewhere. “Another job?”

Arthur shrugs. “Not shoah.” He takes off his hat and the gentle breeze stirs his fawn-colored strands. “But Dutch is only wantin’ John and I to go. So it must be an easy job.” He sets his hat down next to him. “He keeps complainin’ we need more guns. Not enough men to really do the big jobs he keeps dreamin’ up.”

You nod, the news settling like a stone in your stomach. This life, always on the brink of some danger, still refuses to sit right with you, especially with your children to think about. You watch Arthur as he runs a hand through his hair, the lines of his face deepening with thought.

"You worried?" you ask as you set the book down on the ground beside you and bring up your knees.

He shakes his head, bunching his lips as he brings up a knee and rests his arm on it. “Nah, just…” He tucks his chin, as though he can hide his face. “Just been gone a lot, is all. Days at a time.”

You can’t help but chuckle, finding the irony in his statement. “And being gone for almost a year isn’t?”

He peeks at you from over his arm. “Point made.”

You snort, glad that he finds amusement in your teasing despite the harshness of your shared reality. Arthur chuckles—a sound that carries a note of both resignation and fondness, reflecting his complex feelings about his constant departures and returns.

“I’ve never asked…” he begins to say, his voice taking a vulnerable tone. “But when you was pregnant with Alice…”

“She’s yours,” you say quickly. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”

His eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head. “No, I never doubted that, Eliza. She’s too much like her daddy to be otherwise.” He chortles, then he pauses, his eyes searching yours. “I just...I wonder how you managed. Alone, with little Isaac and bein’ with child.” He looks away again. “I was gone for a while.”

You feel a swell of emotions as the memories flood back—the loneliness, the fear, the overwhelming sense of responsibility. But you swallow them back, knowing that it doesn’t do any good to bring them up. “I told you already that I worried about you. You hadn’t been gone that long since back when we first met. I thought the worst had happened.”

“But what about how I left you? After August, after what we–?” he asks again, stopping himself from finishing his question. It’s only ever been words since then. Since he took you in his arms and felt your flesh melt in his hands. You’ve said you love him, but he can’t even get the words to leave his lips. He meant to do what he did, that night, under that hot August moon.

And lately, he’s been wishing for those times again.

He isn’t sure what has triggered it. Is it Abigail? Is it the symmetry of circumstances? How is it that John gets off easy while he did what he could by you?

How could he have left you? Why didn’t he stay?

You watch as he turns his body towards you, his movements gentler, warmer. The look in his eyes is a remnant of the times he looked sweetly at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. It’s a look that can both soothe and stir turmoil within you, for it brings with it the weight of old dreams and hopes.

“I got by,” you reply softly as you finally answer, the words feeling inadequate for what you actually went through. “The days were long and the nights longer. But that’s the way it always was. I held onto the hope that…” He brings his hand to your cheek, caressing the side of your face, nearly causing you to lose your words. “…that you would…come back.”

Arthur's touch sends a shiver through you, the warmth of his hand contrasting sharply with the cool afternoon air that surrounds the woods and camp just beyond them. His eyes never waver from yours, and in them, you see a torrent of emotions he's often left unspoken.

"You always was strong," he mutters softly. “How’d the children get so lucky to have a mama like you?”

His words are a salve, yet they reopen wounds that have never quite healed—the pain of those endless nights, the uncertainty of each day without him. You summon a smile, though it feels brittle on your lips. "Just lucky, I guess." you answer, your voice steady despite the trembling feeling inside you.

He chortles at that, nodding softly. “Yeah, I reckon so.” His thumb caresses your cheek and you begin to wish that he’d kiss you. You’ve begun to forget what he feels like, how his lips would taste of tobacco and the outdoors. But he pulls away, leaving a cold void where his warmth had been.

The silence stretches between you, thick and tense. Finally, Arthur clears his throat, his gaze firm and resolute. "Abigail seems to be doin’ alright,” he starts, his voice more candid. “She’s got a lotta people helpin’ her.”

You nod, licking your lips. “Has John said anything to you?”

Arthur shakes his head, disappointed to not have a good report. “He don’t talk to me lately. I think he’s still dealin’ with the news.”

You snort at that. “He should be over that hump by now.”

But Arthur whips his head to look back at you, his brow lowering. “John’s just a kid. And he’s had different raisin’ than me. A different way of seein’ things.”

“But didn’t Dutch and Hosea raise you both as brothers?”

He shrugs his shoulders, the muscles tensing beneath his weathered shirt. "Yeah, in a manner of speakin'. But we took to different parts of their teachin’, and it's shaped us in ways that ain't easy to reconcile sometimes." Then he shakes his head. “But it ain’t that simple. He had some years before joinin’ us. When he was a boah. Those times can affect a person.”

You can understand what he means, the complexities of a harsh life combined with Dutch's charismatic yet often misguided principles. It isn't just a question of right or wrong; it is a question of survival, of loyalty divided like the branch of a split tree. "I suppose we all pick our paths," you say quietly, the breeze lifting strands of your hair like whispers around your face.

“Not always.”

You shake your head, your opinion in this pretty firm. You know it wasn’t your fault that your parents died, but you had the choice as to what to do with your life. You could have chosen a path far different than being a lowly waitress. “We always have a choice, even if the choices aren’t good ones.”

“Tell that to a six-year-old boah who lost his mama, and his daddy hung when he was eleven.”

You look back at him, your brow lifted and eyes soft. “That what happened to John?”

Arthur falls silent and you know that it isn’t John’s story he’s telling. “Arthur…” Your voice is nearly a whimper, and you reach for him, placing your hand on his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s what happened…?”

Arthur shrugs his shoulders, his eyes flickering with a somber glow. “John lost his folks, too. I ain’t special.”

But you are, is what you want to say. You’re special to me.

But you simply squeeze his arm. “You think that’s why he’s acting like he is?”

Arthur nods his head softly, not meeting your eyes. “He’s independent, like a wild animal you’re tryin’ to tame.”

You can actually see that. You picture a raccoon or a wolf pup, gnawing on anything that moves, distrusting everything. “Makes sense.”

“He takes time to look at things, if you can believe that. He may be a fool, but he keeps a lot inside.”

You blink softly as you observe the sullenness in his eyes, the way he picks at the grass in the space between his legs. “Like you do?”

“I got a journal to hold my thoughts. He got nothin’.”

“He’s got us,” you say, your voice firm but gentle. “He may not think so, but he’s got people.” You look down at his hand and you let your hand glide down his arm to take it in yours. “We didn’t.”

Arthur squeezes your hand, chortling softly. “Yeah, you did. You had…Betty, or what’s ‘er name.”

“Bethy,” you correct, finding delight that he’d even remember her at all. With Arthur’s hand still in yours, you lift it away from his bent knee, bringing it close to you as you observe the healed cuts on his knuckles. “You know…I kinda named Alice after her.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know Elizabeth is already a name on its own, but her middle name is a combination of mine and Bethy’s.”

Arthur's gaze finally lifts, meeting yours with a flicker of surprise. “That hadn’t really occurred to me. But it makes sense.”

You nod, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. “She was good to me, Arthur. After everything…she took me under her wing when my folks died and was supportive when I became pregnant. She let me make my own choices, but still cared enough to tell me the truth.” You sigh deeply at the thought. You wonder what has become of her, if she ended up with Joe and now helps him run the restaurant as an owner rather than a waitress. “I want to be that for Abigail. She shouldn’t have things candy-coated. Life will be harder for her otherwise.”

Arthur nods, his expression softening as he absorbs your words. He and you both are all too familiar with life being hard. It seems that, with the exception of a few moments, that is all it has ever been.

Arthur lifts his eyes and regards the sky and notices how much time has passed. A soft “oh” escapes his lips and, letting your hand go, he rises to his feet. “I need to get goin’.”

You watch him stand, tall and imposing against the backdrop of the late afternoon sun. The red hues cast shadows across his features, making them appear softer, almost gentle. “Will I see you soon?” you ask, the uncertainty in your voice more pronounced than you intended.

Arthur pauses and looks back down at you with those piercing marine eyes. “Hopefully sometime tonight, darlin’.”

Darling. There he goes again. You swallow thickly, trying to keep a straight face, and you get up from the soft, leaf-coated earth. “Let’s wake up the children. Say goodbye to them before you go.”

He makes a sweeping gesture towards camp, putting his hat back on his head. “After you.”

You lead the way. Arthur keeps a few paces behind you and you both ignore the stares from Hosea and Susan as you pass them by. Reaching your tent, you pull back the canvas flap slowly and peek inside. Yes, the children are still sleeping.

Isaac, sprawled like a little starfish across his rough blanket on the floor of the tent, snores softly while Alice clutches a patchwork fox you made out of old shirts close to her chest. The sight makes you feel proud, blessed, to be fortunate to have such precious children.

You turn to meet Arthur’s eyes and raise a forefinger to your lips. Taking the lead, you step into the tent and Arthur follows behind you.

You kneel down beside your sleeping babies and bowing toward the floor you lean close to Isaac and run a gentle hand up and down his back. “Isaac…” you beckon. “time to wake up from your nap…”

Isaac stirs, his little face scrunching in a mix of sleepiness and resistance before his eyes flutter open. He looks up, sees you, blinks twice, and then his gaze shifts to Arthur standing slightly behind you. A sleepy smile spreads across his young face.

“Sleep good, partner?” Arthur asks his son.

Isaac's smile widens, and he nods, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with small fists. "Yeah, Daddy," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep but ringing with the innocence and joy only a child can possess.

Arthur kneels down beside you, his presence like a sturdy oak tree in a storm. The warmth radiating off him almost tangible in the cool air of the tent. “Hey there, Alice,” he whispers tenderness seeping into his voice as he extends a hand to gently shake your daughter awake.

Alice stirs, her little body curling tighter around the stuffed fox before her eyes open slowly, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the tent. She blinks up at Arthur, her small face breaking into a sleepy, yet radiant smile as recognition dawns. "Dada…" she gasps in a hushed tone, her arms flinging open as if inviting the whole world into her embrace.

Arthur’s rough hand, hardened by years of life on the run and battles fought, scoops her up, bringing her close to his chest. The little girl’s giggles fill the tent, a sound pure and liberating, mingling with the rustle of canvas and the distant calls of birds outside. “You keep growin’,” Arthur murmurs into her hair, his voice a low rumble of wonder and affection. "It’s like I blink and you grow inches."

The safety of this moment blankets you like the warmth of a sunrise, pushing back the shadows that linger from life's hardships. Yet, the peace is a fleeting companion in your world. You know Arthur needs to say goodbye to them, his impending mission with Dutch already prolonged.

“Well,” Arthur begins, and you can hear it in his voice. Giving you a knowing look, he hands Alice over to you and you set her in your lap as you remain kneeling.

Isaac senses it too, for his smile instantly disappears. “You goin’, Daddy?”

Arthur nods. “‘Fraid so, partner.” Then he places his palm on the top of his son’s head and gives it a good tousle. “But it’s a short bit. Got some things to do with John and Dutch.”

Isaac's eyes darken with a sudden storm of worry and disappointment. "But when will you be back, Daddy? You said last time—"

Arthur's gaze softens as he looks at his son, the lines around his eyes tightening with sorrow at the promise of uncertainty. “I know what I said, son. But this is different. You live with me, and I always come back. I gotta work to take care of you, your sister, and your mama, don’t I?”

After thinking about it, Isaac nods his head. “Yeah…” His voice trails off into a whisper, heavy with an uneasy acceptance. Arthur leans down to press his forehead against Isaac's, a silent promise passing between them—a momentary bond in the transient life they are currently living.

Arthur lifts his head and pats Isaac’s head. “You’re a good kid, Isaac.” He rises to his feet and groans as he stretches. “You need me to bring back anythin’?” he asks you.

You shake your head as you caress Alice’s head, coiling your finger in the ends of her little curls. “No. We should be fine.”

“Alright.” Arthur turns and heads out of the tent.

The flap falls behind him with a soft thud, and the absence of his presence wraps around you like a cold wind whipping through the trees. You clutch Alice tighter, and she stirs slightly in your arms, wanting to get out and play, now that she’s awake. Isaac rises to his feet and hurries out of the tent.

“Daddy…!” Isaac calls out and sees his father mounting Boadicea.

Arthur looks over to see Isaac running up to him. “Forget somethin’, partner?”

“Can you bring me a horse?”

Arthur lifts his brow. “A horse?” he chuckles, the sound mingling with the dust swirling around Boadicea’s hooves. "Well now, how about we talk about that when I get back?" His voice carries a hint of promise, making Isaac's face light up once more despite his earlier dismay.

"Okay, Daddy!" Isaac shouts, grinning as he takes a step back. “But don’t forget, okay?”

“Let’s go, Arthur!” Dutch calls, steering The Count away from camp.

Arthur takes one last look at his boy and smiles. “You listen to your mama.”

And just as John and Dutch ride off, Arthur kicks Boadicea’s barrel gently and they gallop after them.

***

“So, you gonna tell us what this job is, Dutch?” John asks after the camp is no longer in sight.

Dutch maneuvers so he rides between John and Arthur and looks at each of them, one at a time. “We’re heading into town. The saloon.”

John snorts. “Every time you end up in a saloon, you bring back trouble.” He shakes his head. “Would rather go to church than that.”

Arthur knows he’s joking, but he can’t help but feel a little irritated by his remarks. By trouble, he means Abigail and that doesn’t seem to appear like he feels the way he did when this all started. It isn’t all on Abigail that she got pregnant. John may be a fool, but he isn’t that stupid.

“Maybe goin’ to a church can teach you about forgiveness, John,” Arthur says cleverly. “Maybe about, I don’t know, responsibility?”

“I always thought you hated churches, Arthur,” Dutch says snarkily. “Goin’ all high and mighty on us now?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. He was merely trying to make a point. He knows how the folks in Low Falls had helped you, and while he’s seen his share of corrupt people under the guise of the cloth, he’s come to find that there are still some good people out there. “I just think that he should be a little more understandin’, is all.” He looks straight ahead, the brim of his hat obscuring his eyes. “That don’t make me high and mighty.”

Dutch laughs, a deep sound that echoes slightly in the crisp air around them. “Maybe you need to get out more. You need to be reminded that the world ain't all about feelings and emotions, Arthur." His eyes twinkle with a kind of mischief that only Dutch can muster. John chuckles softly beside them, shaking his head.

As the trio nears the town, the familiar outlines of buildings and streets come into view. The setting sun casts a low arc of light through the town’s main street, giving the final call for townsfolk to either get home or join the nightlife.

Dutch takes the lead, riding up towards the saloon and dismounting before coming to a full stop. He is quite eager, and that does little to settle Arthur’s curiosity. He pulls up beside The Count, and John follows and, after dismounting and tying Boadicea, he catches up with Dutch as he waits at the base of the steps.

Dutch already has a cigar pulled out and he lights it, the orange glow illuminating his face. “You boys ready?” he asks.

Arthur glances in John’s direction just as he steps up reluctantly. “Yeah,” Arthur answers half-heartedly.

Dutch nods, either ignoring the lack of enthusiasm or not even noticing. He inhales slowly, then lets a long stream of smoke escape his lips. “Good.” He then turns toward the saloon’s entrance. “Let’s go in.”

As they enter the saloon, the atmosphere shifts tangibly, from the open, crisp air outside to a haze of tobacco smoke and the scent of liquor that permeates the room. The din of voices and clinking glasses fills Arthur's ears as he scans the crowded space. Men clustered around card tables, a piano player banging away as a woman sings a sad love song. Arthur hopes that she isn’t the reason they’re here. As Dutch steps forward, he sneaks a glance over at John, who shares a knowing look. Arthur wants to talk to him, to see if he has changed at all toward Abigail. He knows he can’t be so heartless as to turn her away. Does he really think that the baby isn’t his?

“Boys.” Arthur lifts his head to see Dutch wave them over just as he leans over the bar counter.

They walk calmly over, their strides confident and casual. Arthur rests his hands on his gun belt and leans sideways into the counter, facing Dutch and John and keeping his back to the main entrance.

The bartender, noticing his new patrons, approaches the three strangers as he has his fist in a glass, cleaning it with a dry rag. “What’ll it be, folks?”

Dutch holds up his ringed forefinger. “I’ll have a gin.” Then he points to John. “And you, son?”

John shifts on his feet, the uncertainty of the purpose of them even being here still on his mind. He turns around, letting his back hit the counter. “Whiskey.”

The bartender meets Arthur’s eyes and the outlaw feels inclined to answer. “I’ll have a whiskey, too.”

The bartender nods. “Comin’ right up, fellas.” Turning away, he walks down the aisle and begins to pull out glasses that he’s cleaned already.

Arthur's eyes drift around the saloon again, settling on a shadowed corner where a young, strawberry-blonde man nurses a drink. Something about the way he sits while another man next to him, chestnut-haired and larger, about Arthur’s size and build, hovers over a table, playing poker with two others. It is as though the excitement of the poker game isn’t enough to rouse his attention, but the way he clutches his glass shows something else.

With the bartender out of earshot, Arthur leans close to Dutch. “So, what’re we doin’ here? Waitin’ for a lead or somethin’?”

Dutch doesn’t turn his head, but looks at Arthur with a sideways glance. “Can’t a man enjoy a drink with his sons?”

John lets out a chortle. “Oh, come on, Dutch—” And as he turns again he sees the seriousness in his leader’s eyes. “Wait, you ain’t jokin’?”

Dutch’s face remains an unreadable mask as he slowly shifts his gaze from John to Arthur. “No, I ain’t. We are just havin’ a drink.”

John shakes his head. “I ain’t convinced.”

The drinks come quickly over, sliding down the counter. With his reflexes, Arthur catches his drink with a quick flick of his wrist, barely making a sound as the glass settles. The bartender lingers for a moment, eyeing them cautiously before retreating back to his post.

A tense silence falls over the trio, broken intermittently by the clinks of glasses and the low murmur of conversations around them. Dutch finally speaks, raising the glass in front of his eyes the clear drink in his crystal glass, letting it swirl around. “Well, if I had just said to ride all the way into town with me for a drink, would you have come?”

Well, hell, he has a point, but neither Arthur or John, care to admit it.

John merely scowls and picks up his glass of whiskey. “I thought we was needin’ more money.” He throws back the drink and drinks it in one gulp, and nearly slams the glass down. “Don’t have time to sit and drink.”

Dutch grins, his eyes twinkling. “We’re sittin’ pretty, son! We’ve had the best couple months in a good spell.” He takes a cultured sip of his gin, letting the liquid go down his throat. “I figured it had been too long since we, the original members of the gang, had relaxed for a bit.”

That’s it? Arthur thinks to himself. If he wants to relax, he’d much rather be spending it back at camp with his family, or riding in the wilderness on his own. But still, there remains a crack in Dutch’s reasons for coming all this way.

“What about Hosea?” Arthur asks. “If you want the whole old guard, ain’t he an important part of that?”

Dutch rolls his shoulders, taking another sip. “He can get beer back at camp, if he’s so inclined. But I did ask him, in case you’re wondering. He’s tryin’ to stay sober.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, sensing the underlying tension that laces Dutch's words. It isn’t like Dutch to gather them like this without a real purpose. “So, what’s really goin’ on, Dutch? It ain't just about missin’ old times,” Arthur presses, his voice low and wary.

Dutch sets his glass down with a long exhale. “It is.”

Arthur finally drinks his whiskey and sets the glass down with a satisfying thud. "You're lyin'," he states flatly, his eyes steady on Dutch's.

Dutch's smile fades, and the warmth in his eyes cools into something sharper. He leans in, resting his elbows on the table, the jovial mask falling away to reveal a more calculated demeanor. "I ain’t. If you don’t believe me. You can just go on home."

Arthur's jaw tightens, his mind racing through the implications of Dutch's thinly veiled threat. Beside him, John shifts uncomfortably, eyeing both men with a wary expression. “C’mon, Arthur. Let’s just…relax, alright?” He leans into the counter and taps his glass, signaling for another. “I know I could sure use it.”

Dutch nods soberly, patting John on the shoulder. “You certainly do, son.”

Arthur wants to leave, but he knows better than to openly challenge Dutch in a place like this. The rest of the evening drags on with an uneasy calm, the bartender handing out more drinks, and the conversation looping back to old heists and narrow escapes, casting a thin veneer over the tension that Arthur feels coursing through him like a chill.

And, after having a couple more drinks, Arthur needs to relieve himself. He leans away from the counter and pats Dutch’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” And he turns to leave.

When he steps out into the cool air, he pauses to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Stepping around the corner, he walks down the alley in search of the outhouse near the back of the saloon. The alley is completely dark, so when he hears an odd scraping sound, he instantly reaches for his gun.

The shadows seem to shift, and his heart pounds against his ribs, primal alertness taking over. His fingers close around the cool metal of the gun as he strains to distinguish any movement in the pitch-black alleyway.

Suddenly, the scraping sound morphs into a lowly growl.

This isn’t human, but animal. And there are only a couple things that growl around here.

“Easy,” Arthur says into the dark, and after putting away his gun, he reaches for a match, hoping that it will offer some light.

He strikes the match with a steady hand, and the feeble light flickers, casting eerie shadows against the craggy walls of the alley. The small flame reveals the outline of a medium, copper-coated beast, its eyes reflecting a golden yellow in the dim light. Arthur's heart settles as he realizes he's face to face with a stray dog.

He sighs, chuckling at himself. “Nearly pissed myself.” And with the limited visibility, he sees a box of rubbish knocked over, evidence of the dog’s search for food. “You hungry, boah?” he asks with a softer tone. The dog growls again, still distrusting of this stranger. “I don’t blame you,” Arthur says as he carefully reaches into his satchel. “It’s every man for himself out here…” He pulls out a wrapped morsel of cured beef and taking it out of the paper, tosses it in the pup’s direction. “Here.”

The dog flinches but doesn’t run away. Instead, it inches forward, nose twitching as it catches the scent of the beef. Arthur holds his breath, not moving a muscle, letting the dog make its decision. The tension in the alley is palpable as the stray hesitates, and then slowly approaches the tossed meat. It sniffs cautiously before finally grabbing it and swiftly running away.

Arthur chuckles to himself and before the match burns his fingers, he drops it to the dirt and steps on it, twisting his boot. With the way through the alley clear, he continues on toward the outhouse.

***

Buttoning his fly, Arthur steps out of the outhouse and makes his way back to the saloon. He thinks to look for the dog, to see if it is perhaps still around, but doesn’t spot him anywhere, not that the limited light helps, anyway. If only it were that easy to tame the wilds of man and beast alike. As Arthur reenters the pulsating heart of the saloon, the clatter and raucous laughter bathe him in a false sense of security. He can't shake off the feeling of being watched, the same eerie sensation that prickled his neck in the darkness.

So when something pokes him in the back, he whips around quicker than he normally would.

A woman stands behind him, wearing nothing but a smile and form-fitted clothing. “I saw you earlier,” she hums. “You ain’t like most men that come ‘round here.”

Arthur isn’t interested and he turns to walk away. “I’m busy,” he excuses flippantly, hoping that will be enough.

But this woman is clearly persistent, for she grabs his arm and pulls. He isn’t about to get aggressive with her, so he merely offers her a tight-lipped smile before shaking off her grip gently but firmly. "Ma'am, I reckon you find someone else to pester tonight."

She hums a laugh, sharp as the click of a revolver, and then lets him go with a flutter of her eyelashes. “How is it pesterin’ when all I want’s a bit of comp’ny?” Her voice laces through the noisy backdrop, trying to pull at the threads of his attention once more.

Arthur shakes his head, stepping away to merge with the crowd swirling around him. It's safer there, in the thrum of life where his back isn't as exposed. But he backs into the stairway leading upstairs, blocking his way of exit.

She grins coquettishly and presses her body against him, letting her hand run up his chest. “You look lonely…” she hums. “I can fix that…”

He needs to get away. With a last resorted effort, he grabs her by the wrist firmly. “I ain’t interested,” he says with a rumble and almost tosses her aside.

She screeches as she fumbles, and this gathers the attention of some nearby men at the poker table. One quickly rises and with the look in his eyes and the gait in his stride, Arthur already knows that this is not the kind of evening he, or Dutch, was ever planning on.

“You messin’ with my Lucy?!” the man roars, his face flush with anger and the veins in his neck bulging. Arthur raises his hands, an attempt to show he means no conflict, but the man is already closing in, fists clenched and eyes wild.

"Was just leavin', friend," Arthur tries, his voice steady despite the chaos brewing.

But the man isn’t in the mood to listen and recoils his arm, readying for a powerful swing. But just in time, Arthur ducks, and the man’s fist makes contact with the stairway’s newel post.

The loud crack of bone meeting wood echoes through the saloon, momentarily silencing the raucous. The man bellows in pain, clutching his possibly broken hand, while Arthur quickly uses the opening to slip away.

But another ‘John’ has already joined in the fight, grabbing Arthur by the shoulder and spinning him around. “Oh no you don’t!”

The man’s fist makes contact with Arthur’s jaw, but thankfully the punch is weak. Not needing much time to recover, Arthur realizes that this fight isn’t the kind he can just leave. This is one he needs to finish.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Arthur growls, and clenching his fist, he punches the man square in the nose.

“Oh, yeah!” an excited roar comes from the poker table, as the tall, chestnut-haired man rises. “I’ve been waitin’ for a moment like this!” And, reaching across the poker table, he pulls the man sitting across from him to his feet before laying a sucker punch right across his jaw. “C’mon, Davey! This the excitement ye was wantin’!”

The sullen man who had been nursing his drink stands up, as though revived, and goes after the closest man nearby, tackling him to the ground with a thud that shakes the nearby tables. The saloon instantly erupts into a cacophony of shouts, the clatter of chairs, and the sharp cracks of fists meeting flesh.

And Arthur, now fully engaged, is caught up in the midst of it, fending off strangers, the sounds of chairs scraping and glasses breaking as the brawl intensifies. The bartender, being no stranger to such events, ducks beneath the counter to hide.

Arthur dodges another clumsy punch, sending his attacker sprawling onto a nearby table, which collapses under the weight. He scans the room quickly, calculating his next move just as a bottle flies over his head. Following its trajectory, he sees John get jumped on. Dutch, however, is still leaning on the counter with an amused grin, observing the two freckle-faced brawlers. “Did you see that?!” he asks John excitedly, completely oblivious that his so-called son is no longer at the counter, but on the floor, wrestling with one of the poker players. “That’s some fightin’ skills those boys got!”

Arthur has since been occupied, and he grips the neck of his opponent, forcing his head against the wall, and knocks him out instantly. “You alright, John?” he grunts.

“Yeah!” he hears behind him, followed by the cracking sound of flesh contacting bone. He turns around and sees a man fall at John’s feet. “He ain’t gettin’ up for a while.” John’s sigh nearly echoes in the room, the once loud and raucous fight dying down.

Arthur looks around, and sees that there aren’t many guests standing. Breathing heavily, he wipes the blood from his lip and glances around the saloon. The air is thick with dust and the sharp tang of spilled whiskey. Glasses lay shattered, their contents making the wooden floor slick and dangerous. Above the din, he hears Dutch's laughter, rich and booming like thunder. “Arthur…!” Whipping around, Arthur sees Dutch approaching. “They’re about to leave…!”

Arthur’s brow pinches. “Who?”

“Those two boys! They’re clearing’ off the poker table.” He claps Arthur’s shoulder and he winces. “Let’s go introduce ourselves…”

Arthur wants to protest, but Dutch is already making his way over to the two strangers, quickly sweeping their arms over the table to collect the money into a saddle bag. They don’t seem to notice their torn shirts and bruised faces, their focus solely on getting the money.

Arthur follows Dutch through the wreckage of the saloon, the crunching of broken glass and dust under his boots.

As they draw near, the taller of the two men looks up, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The younger one, perhaps the more reckless, already has his hand resting casually on the butt of his gun. Dutch, with a confidence that could disarm a raging bull, extends his hand with a grin.

“Gentlemen!” he greets, his grin more Cheshire cat than cordial. “That’s some fine fightin’ skills you boys exhibited back there.”

The taller one, seems almost flattered, the corner of his mouth turning as a toothpick moves from one side of his mouth to the other. He looks at Dutch's hand but doesn’t take it. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, assessing the offer laid before him with a critical eye. "What’s the hand for?" he asks gruffly, voice thick with distrust. The younger man, his hand still hovering near his gun, says nothing, just scrutinizes the outstretched hand before him.

Dutch’s grin doesn’t falter but he does pull his hand back, lifting both hands defensively. “Just what friendly folks do when greetin’ one another.”

The taller man seems disinterested and resumes collecting the coins and dollars on the table. “I ain’t lookin’ for friends.” His tongue rolls heavily, an accent Dutch has only heard a few times in his life. A mix of the wild west and from across the sea, to the highlands of green and blue. Scottish-Americans. The man swings the saddle bag over his shoulder and turns to the younger beside him. “Couple a roasters, eh, Davey?”

The strawberry blond, now named Davey, snickers and kicks the chair in front of him out of his way. “This place could use some decoratin’…!” And he heads for the front doors.

The tall one cackles and follows Davey out, completely ignoring Dutch and Arthur.

While the disappointment is riddled on Dutch’s face, Arthur finds it amusing. “I guess there’s a first time for everythin’…” he teases, folding his bruised arms.

But Dutch isn’t about to give up that easily. He puffs his chest and steeling himself, hurries after them.

Hearing a scuffle behind him, Arthur turns to see John nearly trip over a broken chair as he makes his way over. “What is Dutch doin’?”

“Tryin’ to convert some more members,” he answers dryly as he points to the doors as they swing on their hinges. “Let’s go make shoah he don’t get himself killed.”

“After seein’ how those two boys fight?” John looks toward the door and shivers. “I’m tempted to just walk away now and cut my losses.”

Arthur chuckles and slaps John’s arm. “Shut up. Come on.”

They exit the saloon, the night still waning. The street lamps light up the street, granting enough visibility for Arthur and John to catch up to Dutch toward the two brawlers, his silver tongue already unwinding a new spiel.

“Boys, boys!” Dutch calls out, his voice carrying over the dirt and air to the men’s ears. “I suppose you like to fight often?”

This catches Davey’s attention, for he hesitates after putting his foot in the stirrup to his waiting horse.

He turns, squinting slightly under the brim of his hat, sizing up Dutch with a skeptical eye. "And what's it to ye, huh?" His tone is cautious but intrigued, the prospect of a challenge always sparking interest in his wild heart.

“Davey,” the tall one growls. “We’re leavin’.”

“Well, Mac! This boggin roaster is tryin’ to get in my business!”

Dutch, never one to miss an opportunity, steps closer, his hands raised placatingly. "Not tryin’ to interfere, just offering an opportunity. You fellows look like you could handle more than just barroom brawls."

Davey's eyes narrow, his gaze flickering between Dutch and his horse, his mind clearly wrestling with curiosity and caution. Mac huffs impatiently, clearly not keen on the prospect of lingering any longer. "We ain't got time for this, Davey. We gotta get movin’." His voice is gruff, packed with impatience, but there's an underlying tone that suggests he might just be curious enough to stay.

But Davey seems to wrestle with his decision and he eyes Arthur and John as they approach. “Ye hostin’ a fightin’ ring?” he asks with a jut of his chin towards them.

Dutch twists at his waist, looking back at his unruly sons. “They can fight, that’s for certain, but that ain’t what we’re all about." He waves a dismissive hand, then steps a bit closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We deal in bigger stakes, boys. Bigger than any pot of money at a simple bar fight."

There’s no turning back, Arthur can see that now. When Dutch’s mind is made up, there can be no rhyme or reason with him. If he’s to leave this town and get back to his family, he needs to help things along. And so, seeing the hesitation on Davey's face, he chimes in with a yarn of his own. “Dutch, we ain’t got no use for these clowns,” he says with a rumble. “If we want more gang members, we best go somewhere else.”

Arthur's words, meant to stir a reaction, do just that. Davey's face tightens, a flicker of pride sparking in his eyes. "Clowns, huh?!" His hand drifts toward the handle of his pistol, an instinctual reaction smoothed by years of brawling and living on the edge. “I’ll show ye—!”

But Arthur is quick to the draw, grabbing his revolver and shooting the gun right out of Davey’s hands. Expecting another fight, Arthur, Dutch, and John steel themselves, taking fighting stances.

But Arthur is soon bewildered, when Davey only looks down at the gun, throws his head back, and laughs. “Well, slap me naked and hand me to Mammie!” He turns back to Mac, his laugh rolling in the night. “Did you see that?! Did you really see that?”

Mac rolls his eyes, but does little to hide his mutual astonishment and he dismounts his horse. “Aye, I seen it.” He walks up to the three men and nods towards Arthur in grudging respect. "Ye got a mean shot, fella. Maybe ye ain't all talk after all." The tension that clung to the air like the heat of the desert dissipates ever so slightly, turning the potential for violence into a mutual acknowledgment of skill.

Dutch, never failing to seize an opportunity, prepares his sales pitch that could nearly hold a candle to Hosea’s silver tongue. “Arthur Morgan is nothin’ but the best. My greatest protege.” Behind him, John scoffs, turning away his head like a jealous kid. “But that don’t mean that we have fully arrived. Success is like a body, it needs all its components to survive. The heart, the brain, the hands, and feet. And right now, we're like a crippled man." Dutch's analogy draws a few chuckles from the group, lightening the mood further. He studies Mac and Davey, pausing for effect. “We need strong boys like you to help us walk again.”

Mac grunts, considering the offer, his gaze shifting from Arthur to Dutch, then back again. Davey picks up his gun from the ground, eyes still wide with a mix of shock and newfound respect. He dusts it off and holsters it slowly, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s face. “Yer one helluva shot, Morgan,” he admits, a crooked smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Mighty impressive.”

But Mac isn’t as easily distracted, asking needed questions. “Say we go wit’chye boys, what’s in it for us?”

Dutch grins, nodding his head as though he anticipated this question. “I'm glad you asked. Aside from the freedom of riding with our gang, you’ll have more excitement than the occasional bar fight, and you’ll encounter actual low lives more worth your time brawlin’.” He leans closer, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper that carries with it a promise of fortunes to be won and lost. "We lay our hands on more wealth than you can imagine—gold, jewelry, whatever you fancy. All in exchange for your loyalty and a bit of muscle work." Dutch's eyes glint under the street lights, like pearls of great price.

“That include lassies?” Davey asks and Arthur feels himself tense at this. “A bonnie lass would ease the deal.”

Arthur steps forward, his jaw setting firm, the muscle ticking as his eyes narrow on Davey. "That ain't part of the deal," he growls, voice low and menacing. There's a certain fire that sparks behind his gaze—a protective blaze reserved for those he considers family.

But Dutch holds out a hand, stopping Arthur. “Arthur’s a little sensitive, he thinks everyone has their eyes on his woman. Little does he know that she ain’t everyone’s cup of tea.” He looks back at Mac and Davey, choosing his words carefully. “But that don’t mean that there won’t be tea to drink.”

Davey grins at this, catching his meaning.

Mac also seems satisfied with the answer, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Fair enough,” he says finally, nodding slightly as if calculating the risks and rewards in his head. The tension between Arthur and the Scottish brothers simmers just below the surface, a silent battle of wills and strength.

“Well?” Dutch asks. “What do you say you ride back with us?”

The brothers exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between them through the narrowing of eyes and the set of their jaws. After a moment, Davey nods, clapping his brother on the back. "Aye, we'll ride with ye. Could use a bit of a change anyway," he announces, his accent warm but with a hint of skepticism.

Dutch nods and puffs his chest as he claps his hands. “Welcome to the Van Der Linde gang, boys.”

Thanks for reading!

Tag Requests: @photo1030 @eternalsams

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #arthur morgan #fanfiction #ao3 writer #rdr2 #arthur x eliza #mac callander #davey callander #dutch being dutch #mixed signals as usual #van der linde gang origins #outlaws for life #arthur morgan x eliza!reader #can i pet that dog?

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dragonfly41777 · 1 year ago

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Genuinely so tempted to start writing little x reader blurbs for Hazbin Hotel but I've been pushing it off bc of how busy I am with theatre stuff- soooo if there's anything you'd like me to write feel free to give suggestions 🤭 (also using this as an opportunity to figure out how to ✨bedazzle✨ my posts on here 😍 no but actually I really need help with that bc how tf 💀)

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

Characters I am Willing to Write for:

Hazbin Hotel

❒ Lucifer

❒ Vox

❒ Velvette

❒ Rosie

❒ Angel Dust

❒ Husk

❒ Charlie

❒ Vaggie

❒ Alastor

❒ Adam

❒ Lute

❒ Sir Pentious

❒ Cherri Bomb

❒ Ofc this could change, just feel free to request whoever and I'll try my best 🤟

Newsies 📰

❒ Jack Kelly

❒ Davey

❒ Katherine Plumber

What I will NOT be Willing to Write:

❒ NSFW

❒ Don't even think about requesting Valentino because it's not happening- absolutely hate that man 💃

❒ Age-Gap stuff, it just makes me uncomfy and I personally don't get how people are able to romanticize it 😭 (again, just my opinion, no hate if you do like it, just as long as it's not illegal 🤷‍♀️)

❒ Anything romantic with Charlie and Vaggie bc they are datingggg- plus it just feels weird writing x reader for them, it's like in my mind they're cheating, as stupid as that sounds 💀

❒ Ummm there's probably other stuff but I can always add to it later 🤷‍♀️

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

Soooo with that being said, feel free to send any requests and I'll try my best to write them! I know most of you probably won't be bothered to read this part, but I also draw as well and I've seriously been meaning to draw more often, especially different poses, so if you want me to draw anything I'll certainly try my best! Though no promises I'll actually finish the drawing ones because that takes up a lot more time and I barely have any 😭 The only times I'm actually free are on weekends 😞 But yeah, request if you feel like it 💪 And feel free to just call me Dragonfly! It's sort of like my alias at this point 💀

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel adam #lute #vox x reader #velvette x reader #sir pentious x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #cherri bomb x reader #jack kelly x reader #newsies #Davey x reader #Katherine Plumber x reader

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dave-me0wstaine · 2 years ago

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could you write subby Dave x reader?and like the reader is teasing him and he got tired and yk, like stops being subby and the reader now is the subby?if you want add kinks for Dave, like idk, spitt kink?spanking?hair pulling?and all that 🤭

hi anon!! firstly i'm so so sorry that it's taken me a while to reach your request, my inbox was a little full and it got buried :(

but i absolutely love this idea! something about this feels very... accurate?? idk how to describe it but it feels like something that would actually happen with dave lol.

like he'd be underneath you, wriggling around, biting his lips as you work a light hand over his cock. he keeps whining and pleading for you to touch him properly, to put it inside you, but you only shush him and tell him to " be a good boy" and take whatever you give him. the more he begs the more teasing, more cruel you become. you hover over his cock, barely pushing the head of his cock in before you pull yourself away from him again.

this goes on for only a few minutes, but it seems like forever to dave, but he finally feels you begin to sink yourself lower on his cock and he's almost howling in pleasure, feeling delirious from the lack of proper stimulation. the sounds of pleasure quickly turn into growls of frustration, as you teasingly rise off of his cock once more.

dave's actions are so quick that you don't realize that your face is pressed into the mattress until you're struggling to breathe. in an instant, he's manhandled you until your face is shoved into the damp, sweat-soaked sheets and your ass is high up in the air, with your legs spread for him.

"i'm sick and tired of your shit," dave growls out between gritted teeth. you try to turn to face him, to try and say something to regain dominance, but before you can, dave spits in your open mouth and slams his cock into you.

as you wriggle in his grasp, dave drills into your heat, delivering heavy-handed spanks to your ass, making the skin feel hot under his touch.

"s'too much," you whine, and subconsciously try to inch yourself away from his powerful thrusts.

dave yanks you back onto his dick by your hair, and sneers in a condescending tone, "it hurts? aw, that's too bad, hun. now be a good girl and take what i give you."

#i <3 mean davey #dave mustaine #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine smut #dave mustaine fanfiction #megadeth #megadeth x reader #megadeth smut #megadeth fanfiction #asks

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savvythepirate · 2 years ago

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Pirate at heart

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x reader

Warnings: None

Requested by: @skyraysstuff

The Request:

Hi. I really like your works and was wondering if you could do one with Will turner x reader where she’s a pirate, and she saves Elizabeth from drowning in the first movie. There also best friends with Jack, and will didn’t know there a pirate.

***

Despite of your friendship with Will Turner being tighter than ever, you still took the same route and followed your friend, Jack Sparrow to what the seas had to offer.

In the beginning, others would find it hard to believe you were a pirate, it would make it a little difficult for them to have that process in their minds until you mention of your pirate friend Jack Sparrow, that gives them more of a clear view on who you really are at heart. But unlike Jack Sparrow, you are more likable and are adored by many. Over your travels at sea, you had more friends than you did enemies and if you’re able, it was almost easy for you to make those enemies into friends.

Aside from that, there had been countless times where you have gotten Jack out of trouble. On a rather sunny day, you were having a conversation with Jack about the destination you both intended on going while arguing about the fact that of bringing Will Turner on this next great adventure when a commotion from behind you rises. It begins when a splash is heard and is followed by the sound of the people around crying out that a young lady had just fallen into the waters below and someone had to save her before something happens to a bad situation much worse. Although Jack was prepared to go in and save the lady who had just fallen, you got to it before he he could, jumping off into the waters and following the young lady before the strong and unforgiving current drags her further away. Right as you made that jump, you hear Jack calling out for you and Will Turner as he had watched not far from where you stood.

Both Will Turner and Jack Sparrow released a breath of relief none of which knew they were holding while watching everything unfold before them and as you got Elizabeth safely out of the waters. Not long after Elizabeth seemed to be just fine, the two of you begin talking and become quick friends. Throughout one of your chatting sessions, you mention how you travel the seas with best friend, Jack Sparrow and what life was like between you and Will Turner. Elizabeth was quite surprised to learn that you were a pirate, but that didn’t do any damage to your new friendship. Will Turner had a feeling of you becoming a pirate as it was one of the worst things you could do in your hometown, it could mean leading you to the penalty of death, sentenced to hanged.

Let’s just say that by the end of the day, Will Turner realizes he has more questions than ever before, and is prepared to go through them with you, weather you wanted to or not, it was going to happen. As well as it did. Of course you were honest about everything, you made sure of it. That conversation brought you both closer than unexpected.

But that was a good thing as it only felt right.

***

@savvythepirate

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bluespecs14 · 1 year ago

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Threads and Bandages

Summary: Davey asks his sister for help to make a gift for Reader.

Warnings: mentions of bandages and (sewing) stitches, possibly ooc characters, use of (Y/N)

Word count: 1,008 words

-----

“Sarah, I need your help” Davey suddenly announces, breaking the silence in the room.

The girl raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “help with what?”

He goes to sit beside Sarah, pausing to take a breath before speaking again, voice shy but determined, “I want you to teach me how to embroider, please”

Sarah stares at her brother, surprised, before adopting a teasing smirk, “why? You want to make (Y/N) a gift?”

Davey straightens his back, becoming more resolved, “yes, actually. I wanna embroider a handkerchief for her”

“aww look at you being all sweet” Sarah teases, giggling as Davey throws her a look, his cheeks and ears tinged pink. “alright, alright, I’ll help you. Do you have an idea on the design?”

“yeah, I read some books on embroidery designs and took some inspiration from them,” he pulls out a scrap piece of paper from his pocket. It was littered with half-finished doodles of swirls, flowers, and stylized initials. One in particular looked finished, although the marks of repeatedly erased lines, replaced by bolder pencil strokes, were evident, “I also asked for some tips from Buttons and this is what I came up with” he says, angling the paper into Sarah’s sight and pointing at the finished design.

She takes the paper from him and looks at the design closely. (Y/N)’s initials were lined with swooping lines and foliage, some flower petals and leaves making up some of the letters’ structure, making them take on a pattern that was typical of the embroidery designs of the time but at the same time very personalized. Under the initials was a simple bouquet of leaves, vines and flowers, the vines curling around the letters in a circular pattern, effectively making a wreath, the flowers helping to add more detail.

Sarah makes a sound of approval as she finishes studying the sketch, “it might take some time to finish because you’re inexperienced, so I hope you’re not planning on giving it to her anytime soon.”

Davey nods, “I understand but I do want to give it to her as soon as possible”

Sarah smiles softly at him, “alright then, we better get started right away”

For the next few weeks, in his spare time, Davey learns the necessary stitches on a small piece of fabric with Sarah’s guidance. Eventually, their mother starts to help her daughter teach her son. When they deemed him ready, they instructed him to start on the actual handkerchief. Davey worked tirelessly, stitch after stitch, his fingers slowly being covered by bandages.

Weeks later, with the final stitch sewed on, Davey secures it and snips off the thread. In his hands lay the product of his efforts. His mother and sister sit with him, pride in their eyes as they watch him carefully pack the finished handkerchief into a small box and tying it with a ribbon, a smile on his face and excitement blazing in his eyes.

“Thank you, mom, Sarah, for the help, I really appreciate it” he says with a smile, placing a kiss on his mom’s head, “I’m heading out to the theater, I’ll be home later”

Grabbing the box, he leaves. As he heads to the theater, he thinks of what her reaction will be. He stops at the back entrance, nervousness filling his body. He shakes it off and enters, sending greetings to the staff he comes across as he walks to where he knew she’d be. The staff, already used to his presence in the theater at this point, greets him back.

Arriving at the sewing room, Davey knocks on the door, patiently waiting with his hands behind his back, hiding the present from her sight. A smile makes its way onto his face as she opens the door.

“Davey!” (Y/N) exclaims happily, “this is a pleasant surprise, I wasn’t expecting you, come in” she says after kissing his cheek, pulling him inside the room.

“Sorry for coming without warning but I wanted to give you this right away” he presents the box to her and opens it revealing the handkerchief.

She takes it out of the box with wide, wonder and joy-filled eyes, “did you make this?” she asks, looking at the embroidery closely, before looking up at him.

“Sarah and my mom taught me, but yeah I sewed all of it so some of the stitches are a bit crooked” he says sheepishly, “it’s not anywhere near what you can do but I tried my best”

“I love it and its beautiful Davey, thank you so much” she says before pulling him into a tight hug, her smile wide and her happiness palpable.

“I’m glad you like it” he replies, hugging her back as he mirrors her smile.

As they pull away, she glances at his hands. Taking a better look, (Y/N) frowns. Her gaze flits from his eyes to his hands, she makes a face full of understanding, knowing the pain all too well. Wordlessly, she kisses his bandage covered hands making his heart melt. Davey takes his hand away from hers and caresses her face as he smiles down at her. She winds her arms around his neck, leaning up and placing a kiss on his lips, one he immediately reciprocates.

“I love you” she whispers once they pull away.

“I love you too” he replies, his forehead resting on hers.

-----

Note: so this is a bit of a mix between livesies and 1992sies bc sarah but I was thinking of livesies!davey while writing. sorry if the characters are ooc, esp for davey and sarah. sorry if the ending was a bit flat, im still on a bit of a writing slump but i had some motivation to write and I didn’t wanna waste it. i was thinking of this being a side fic for the longer fic im still working on but it could still be its own thing. also I don’t know if i did the warnings right so if I could have done it better please let me know.

thanks for reading :>

#davey jacobs x reader #davey x reader #newsies live #newsies 1992 #davey jacobs #sarah jacobs #fluff #davey jacobs fluff #davey jacobs imagines #davey jacobs livesies

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sijssjsbssjsnsnnskbskwns · 6 months ago

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Aneurin Barnard as Davey (Hunky Dory 2011 Musical/Drama)

Okay well most of you voted ‘yes’ so I’ll prepare then hopefully have it posted soon if I’m not busy..❤️

#Hunky dory 2011 #Davey hunky dory #aneurin barnard x reader #boris pavlikovsky x reader #female reader #y/n #stranger things #aneurin barnard #stranger things 5 #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #y/n au #Davey (hunky dory 2011) x reader

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a-three-part-mini-opera · 9 months ago

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would anyone be interested in beta-ing/helping me come up with ideas for my javid theater au? i'm looking for like 2-3 people :))

#musicals #newsies #falsettos #davey jacobs #jack kelly #javid #fanfiction #au #beta reader

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thewritersofdeceased · 1 year ago

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#newsies x reader #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #Albert dasilva #Davey jacobs #kid blink #mush myers #Finch #newsies 2017 #newsies 1992

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sl-newsie · 10 months ago

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Spelled (Descendants x Sanderson Daughter): Red's Rising

“A 5-year graduation reunion?”

“Yes, following the opening ceremony for the upcoming school year. That’s next week.”

Fairy Godmother’s sink in. How has it already been five years?

“But I didn’t officially graduate,” I reply with an arched brow. “Got run out of school, remember?”

The kind woman smiles and takes my hand. “You’ll be awarded a diploma nonetheless.”

An official education? Sounds fancy. But the past years of studying witchcraft have taught me far more than any textbook could.

“This means that you can apply to be an official member of the Magic Committee.”

My eyes widen. Five years ago I would have killed to be on the council. To be taken seriously. But time can change one’s perspective.

“With all due respect,” I start slowly. “I think my place in Auradon lies somewhere else rather than discussing politics. Something… independent.”

She nods in understanding, though still saddened at my decision. “Will you be staying for the reunion?”

“Of course.” Now to tackle a different topic. “You mentioned that you have a meeting with Uma?”

Fairy Godmother’s eyes light up. “Oh! Yes! She’s probably on her way now. Um, would you like to stay? She can be a bit… bold.”

I chuckle and stand up from the couch. “Uma’s like that with everyone. I’m sorry but I’ve already promised Ben I would meet with him.”

I give her a final handshake and pass through the room, taking a moment to look at Carlos’ portrait hanging proudly on the wall. He would have been proud to see Auradon’s program come this far. How much everyone’s accomplished. Jane, being the ambitious go-getter she is, became a foreign exchange student in Auradon. Audrey, having found love in planning Mal’s wedding, became a wedding planner. Tiffany’s been working at Miss Muffett’s, Fiona landed her own spot on the Magic Committee, Lonnie is a member of the royal guard, Doug’s the best security technician in the kingdom, and Rosaline appropriately became a hair product saleswoman.

Back in the courtyard, Ben and Mal are waiting. Packed luggage waits next to them.

“Late honeymoon?” I joke.

The beared king laughs. “No, this isn’t a pleasure trip.”

“We’re sailing the Trident Seas for international diplomacy,” Mal says. “Ben says he’s wanted to do it for a long time but our kingdom needed to be dealt with first.

I remember hearing his dreams like it was yesterday. “And you left Uma in charge? Smart choice.”

“Well since FG’s being made the President of Auradon University, Uma will bring order for the time being. We thought about asking you, but…”

“I’m not exactly jumping for joy to boss around kids,” I finish for her. “You read my mind.” I snicker. “I gave up being Royal Advisor ages ago. Honestly, all the politics and rules are starting to bore me. I’ll pass.”

Honk honk!

The familiar limo drives up and Remus pokes his head out. “Time to set sail!”

The couple gives me one final group hug and they both climb in. Before they take off for the harbor Remus gives me a wave.

“Still up for that walk by the Bewitched River?”

A blush colors my cheeks. “Yes, when you get back!” I call as he starts to drive.

“A walk?” Uma taunts from behind.

I groan and turn around to face the aqua-haired VK. “Yes. A walk, nothing more.”

“Sounds like a date,” she smirks. “You deserve a treat, Sparky.”

“Treat? I want a treat!” A voice whines.

Dude comes bounding across the lawn and jumps onto a rock. The sight of the mutt makes me smile. After all these years he’s still got spunk.

“On a different note,” Uma continues. “I’m about to go talk to FG about my plans. I’ve decided to include Wonderland in our student program.”

Wonderland. Hm. I’ve heard rumors but never gone too deep down the rabbit hole. Literally.

But Uma’s not finished. “And I’d like you to be in charge of magic security.”

My thinking comes to a halt. Magic security? Must be a new position. But why bring me into this? Uma knows I’m not a fan of high authority.

“No one else can? What about Fiona or Bianca?”

Uma pretends to think deeply. “Hm. A snippy fairy, or the most powerful witch in Auradon? It’s an easy choice. I trust you.”

Trust. The word feels refreshing. But the unknown of Wonderland still leaves me uneasy.

“Uma, is this a good idea?”

She takes a deep breath. “Magica. We both know what it’s like to grow up in an unwanted place. I need you to help me make the new student feel welcomed. How do you think she’ll react when she gets here?”

Uma’s right. This girl’s past could potentially mirror my own, or any other VK’s for that matter.

“I can’t speak for others, but she could very well be scared. Auradon isn’t like Wonderland and she might need help adjusting.”

“Sound familiar?” Uma asks, then gives me a pleading look. “Please.”

Dude nuzzles against my boots, almost giving a sign to say yes.

“You’re right. And if Carlos were here, he’d say the same thing.”

One week flies by and before I know it it’s time to welcome the new students. If only some of the old ones weren’t leaving.

“Will you be returning to Oz?” I ask Evangaline as she hauls her luggage across the courtyard.

My green cousin stops to give me a tight hug.

“Yes. It’s my home. I’d love to explore Auradon more but I’ve been waiting so long to be home.”

“You’ve made wonderful progress at Auradon Prep,” I smile. “Your parents will be proud.”

Evangeline squeezes my hand. “And so will your mom.”

Mother. I do miss her. The spellbook containing my family is still safe at home but the thought of bringing them back has been taunting my conscience for the past year.

“Oh by the way, how’s Willow?”

Hilarious. Another jab from my past. After the whole turning Willow into a plant situation, I reversed the spell and returned her back to normal. In a sputtering mess Willow apologized and seemed to grow a genuine fear of me. I reassured her that there are no more hard feelings.

“She wrote me last month. Said she’s settled in Charmington.”

“It’s good to hear that not all Sandersons are afraid of letting go of a grudge.” Evangaline finishes packing her luggage into her green car and gives me one last hug. “Goodbye, cousin.”

“Safe travels.”

So off drives another friend. Maybe I can make some new ones- Or rekindle old friendships.

“All set, Remus?” I ask as I approach the red head, who's wearing a spiffy white suit.

“I guess so. Uma’s stationed me near the front gate to inspect the cars.”

Is it wrong to think of how cute he looks in his suit? These past years have allowed my heart to heal from grieving Carlos, but have also allowed for me to detach from the idea of having only one true love. I know deep down that Carlos wouldn’t want me to keep myself stuck on him, so I’ve slowly been moving on. Remus has been nothing but patient and understanding. But has that been through friendship, or something more?

“Excuse me, where do we check in?” A dark-haired girl asks. “I’m Jade, by the way. Jasmine’s daughter.”

“Oh, of course! Right over there.” I point to the forming line.

Goodness, everyone showed up for the opening ceremony. Yzma’s daughter Yanitza, the Madrigals, Sylvia, King Arthur’s heir Adam. I can’t believe all these people have traveled here just to be part of this!

“Magica!” And here comes Lonnie in her new uniform. “Magica, since you’re now the head of magic security I thought I should touch base on a few things. Merida has set a perimeter just in case the Queen of Hearts isn’t so friendly. Where would you like us to escort Queen Anna?”

This all feels too familiar to when I was Royal Advisor. Only this time instead of carrying out Ben’s wishes I’m being asked for my own perspective. It’s starting to grow on me.

“I think the best place would be the tea room, so she won’t be crowded. She can give her speech after Uma kicks things off.”

The soldier nods. “Good choice. It’s better to think ahead before everyone gets here and starts running a-muck.”

Uh-Oh.

My eyes spark and I hold my hands stiffly to my sides. No, no! Not now- But it’s too late. I start clapping and twirling around, unable to control myself.

“A-muck, a-muck, a-muck-!”

“Easy now,” a calm voice says and I feel someone behind me. It’s Remus.

“Is she okay?” Lonnie asks.

“Just excited, that’s all,” he replies and rests his hands on my shoulders, wearing a big grin. “Aren’t you?”

I get my own sheepish smile and look to the ground. Lord, why today?

“Thanks,” I mutter once Lonnie’s gone.

“Don’t fret about it. I think it’s cute.” Remus suddenly gets a concerned expression when he sees someone behind me. “Is that them?”

I turn around to see who he’s talking about. It is. The Royal Hearts family themselves. Their clothing practically screams red royalty. The queen’s wearing a blood-red gown with roses making up the skirt. A giant heart is formed into her bodice and collar. Her daughter obviously shares her tastes. Her leather outfit reminds me of Mal’s old one, only it’s red too. Patterned with hearts, of course. They each share the same red hair, only Red’s is curlier.

And no one looks happy to see them.

Everyone gasps in horror and scatters out of the way as the red royals march up to the school entrance. The princess’ look hides a smidgen of apology for their harshness but the queen’s enjoying their fear. We watch them get to the line. People are still tense- Except for Queen Cinderella. Is it just me or does it look like they know each other? The red queen’s icy glare shows dangerous chemistry between them. It seems to be spreading to their daughters as well.

“I’ll go handle them,” I assure Remus and make my way over.

I’ve never personally met Chad’s younger sister Chloe but from what I’ve heard she’s a lamb compared to the other Charming sibling. The blue-haired girl sees me approaching and she gets a giddy smile.

“Oh! You’re Magica Sanderson! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Her excitement to see me is not shared by Red. She gives an annoyed groan and leans against the wall while her mother banters with Chloe’s mom. Uma’s guess about Red wanting to be here could be right if the Queen of Hearts wasn’t so keen on spreading her ego today.

Meow!

Something claws at my skirt. A feline I haven’t seen in years.

“Twilight?” I gasp and scoop up the black and white cat. “Where have you been, you frisky kitty?”

“He hitched a ride with us from Wonderland,” Red speaks up. “She must have fallen down the rabbit hole.” She scans me with uncertainty. While all the other AKs are wearing cheerful sundresses, my own attire of a purple corset dress and laced boots sticks out like a sore thumb. “You are… different. Are you a VK too?”

“Indeed. Magica Sanderson, at your service, Princess Red.”

She huffs a laugh. “Red, please. Being a princess is being a prisoner.”

So I’m right. Red does want to be here but it’s to escape her mother’s parenting. Can’t say I blame her given my own family history.

“Try being the daughter of a witch who wants to eat children’s souls,” I joke lightly.

Red chuckles. “Touché. Eh, no matter. Once school starts I’m gonna paint Auradon red.” Um, alright. Not sure what to say to that. She looks around the courtyard with slight surprise. “How did commoners get in?”

How different are things in Wonderland?

“Actually royal status doesn’t matter at Auradon Prep,” I explain gently. “At least it shouldn’t. There are some, not giving names, that still hold themselves high for it.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Stop the teasing, I know you mean Chad.”

“Yes. Remind me, how did he get into college?” I mutter under my breath with a doubtful tone.

“What about her?” Red points to a ‘“commoner” girl on the bench reading a book.

“That’s Annie Kelly. Her mother runs the orphanage and her father works in our stables.”

Red nods and points to another new student. “And him?”

“That’s her cousin Denton Jacobs. His parents work for the biggest newspress in Auradon- I’ll take that.” I reach out and swipe another boy’s cigar.

“Hey! That’s my cigar!” he whines.

My eyes narrow and I wave a finger at him. “No smoking in public places.”

He scowles and takes off sprinting to follow some other kids. “I wasn’t gonna smoke it!”

“Antonio Higgins, if I catch you running again you’ll be scrubbing floors for a month!” I warn. “Celia, Elvin, stop encouraging him!”

Forget magic security. My biggest challenge is going to be keeping these rascals in check.

“By the way, do you know Maddie Hatter?” I ask Red.

“I know her brother, Maddox. He’s my tutor. And my… friend.” She pauses. “I talk to him when mom’s not being the friendliest… which is often.”

Oh. Red’s got so much potential. Why does her mother have to hold her back?

“Coming from someone whose aunt worships the Devil, I know what it’s like to not get along with family.”

Red’s stern gaze softens. “How do you deal with it?”

“I don’t let my heritage define my future. At first I never thought I could fit in at Auradon Prep, much less make friends. It took some time, and a few mishaps, but it’s how I’m here now. That, and it helps that my coven is locked away in a spellbook.”

That sparks her interest but we’re interrupted when Cinderella walks over.

“Hello, dears!” She smiles kindly at us and playfully nudges Chloe. “I hope my daughter’s behaving.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Yes, mom.”

“I’m going to miss you.” Cinderella squeezes her into a hug. “And so will your father.”

She walks off into the courtyard to take a seat. I’ll admit her daughter is a peach compared to Chad, but how did he not end up with the blue hair?

Chloe groans. “School's gonna be a break from my family. I love them dearly but I’m sick of seeing my parents make heart eyes at each other.”

Red and I share a look. We were just discussing our troubled family dynamics and she complains of having loving parents?

Uh-oh. The red queen’s noticed us and is coming this way.

“Darling!” She smiles tightly and pulls Red to her, eyeing me closely. “Who is this?”

Careful. Don’t set off her temper. If it’s anything like Aunt Winnie’s I want no part of it and I don’t feel like having my head chopped off.

I curtsey politely. “Magica Sanderson, your Royal Highness.”

The queen tilts her head. “Finally, someone who recognizes power. The daughter of Winifred Sanderson. I should have guessed from that ridiculous pointed hat.”

“Actually I am Sarah’s daughter,” I correct her.

She puts a hand to her chest and chuckles. “Oh that’s bupkis. How is the daughter of Sarah so… level-headed?”

My jaw drops. It’s like a broken record. The instant people begin to respect my heritage, someone comes along and kicks it into the mud. Red catches my appalled reaction and leads the queen away, who's still laughing at me.

“Don’t listen to her,” Chloe says. “Maybe being in Auradon will help change her.”

I scoff. “Which one? The prejudiced killer queen or her clone of a daughter?”

Normally I wouldn’t think such dark thoughts but how much more must I have fingers pointed at me? Instead of screaming in terror at my name the queen mocks my mother’s dumb kindness.

“Come on, Magica!” Chloe pulls me along. “It’s starting!”

Maybe the welcome ceremony will lift my spirits. Fairy Godmother stands ready on stage and signals for everyone to be quiet.

“Attention please! Parents and students, it has been a great privilege to serve you. But the time has come for another to take my place. So please join me in welcoming Auradon Prep’s new principal!”

We all turn to see Uma’s crew flipping down the aisle chanting her name. Out strides Uma, making her grand entrance as usual. Hasn’t lost her touch.

“What’s my name?” She asks the crew.

“Uma!”

She smirks and points to the audience. “That’s Principal Uma to you. So you better get it straight, or you’ll be walking the plank.”

“She’s just kidding, just kidding!” Fairy Godmother assures the crowd.

“I never got to go to Auradon Prep. But as its captain I am proud to be charting a new course to a bright future. Beyond the old ways of heroes and villains.” Uma finds me standing in the back and we both nod. “So in that spirit I’d like to welcome Princess Red of Wonderland.”

Everyone looks expectantly at Red but the royal red pair remains seated. The queen seems to be toying with something… Playing cards?

“Excuse me.” The queen’s head rises to look at Uma. “Do you mind?” she asks kindly.

"I do, actually,” she replies tartly, looking at the crowd. “Hm.”

“Mom, what are you doing?” Red asks nervously.

“Oh, I’m playing my favorite game.” She chuckles as she stands and shuffles the deck. “Waaaarrrr!”

The queen’s Hellish cackle fills the air. She throws the cards into the sky, causing a cloud of red cascading across the sun. Pop! Pop! What in the name of Auradon-? They’re soldiers?!

Red heart soldiers pop from the cards and land all around, caging us in. The queen flicks out more cards and they block the exits. Uma’s trying her best to fight the soldiers with her sword but I can already tell it won’t be enough. Where’s-? Fairy Godmother! She has her wand!

“Bibbidi bobbity-”

The red queen’s icy glare stares her down. “No.”

Another card flicks across and collides with the wand, snapping it in two. Dear God.

Fairy Godmother stands there still as stone, trying to piece together what just happened. Red’s watching it all with the same expression.

“No! Let go of me!” Uma grunts.

There’s no way I can fight these soldiers hand to hand. Even my most powerful magic is too dangerous to use. I could hurt the captives. Oh! My invisibility cloak!

I slip it on just in time to see the queen striding towards Fairy Godmother with a triumphant smirk.

Red’s still shocked. “Mom, this is crazy! Even for you!”

“Crazy, crazy that it’s taken this long,” her mother mutters with malice. “I have been waiting years to be welcomed back into Auradon! So thank you, Red. You finally did something useful.”

Red’s invitation. Her mother used it to infiltrate Auradon when our guard was lowered. She can't even be proud of her daughter for wanting an education.

“I should've known this was never about me,” Red whispers, shaking her head.

Her mom’s eyes narrow. “Everything I do is for you.”

“That was my invitation. My school. My life.”

“Someday you’ll thank me.” She pats Red’s shoulder and smiles at Fairy Godmother, holding what looks like a small mirror. “Oh! And we’ve already seen the ending. Spoiler alert! We win.”

Through the scrambling crowd Cinderella makes her way to the front, only to be stopped by the queen’s guards. “Stop it, Bridget. You’re better than this.”

Her Cheshire grin sends chills down my spine. “Let her through.”

The guards comply and push the blue royal ahead.

“This is too far. I know what happened was hard on you but that was ages ago.”

Talk about never forgetting. And I thought my family held grudges.

The red queen simply looks down at her with murder in her narrowed eyes. “Feels like yesterday to me.”

Cinderella shakes her head “It was a stupid prank.”

“Stupid? Who could forgive humiliating a girl at her first dance? Turning me into a monster in front of everyone? Now that’s just cruel.”

“You’re right,” Cinderella admits.

The red royal sneers. “You didn’t care then. You were off with your prince. Ooh, but you will now. You will all show me the respect I deserve!” She points down at her. “Now kneel.”

“I will never kneel to a tyrant,” the blue queen rejects.

“Ugh. She’s denied a royal order.” The Queen of Hearts looks at her daughter. “What do we do about that, darling?”

This whole time Red’s stayed quiet. There’s no denying the guilt behind her eyes. She’s too young to be given an order to kill someone.

“Look. All you have to do is pledge allegiance. Is that so hard?”

Cinderella also seems to see she’s hesitant. “If it means giving up everything I stand for, yes.”

Her mom is getting impatient. “Who are you loyal to, Red? Hm? These strangers? Or your mother? Hm? Now make me proud. For once.”

Ouch.

“Come on, Bridget. Even your daughter knows it’s wrong. She can’t do it.”

That sparks something. Why did she have to say that? That’s just edging Red on even further!

“Treason. She’s guilty of treason!” Red declares to the crowd of captured guests.

“Exactly right, my dear. And that means off with her head!”

Lightning crackles across the sky. An execution? Lord, I have to do something! But what?

“Shoo.” The red queen waves her hand at the guards, signaling for them to drag Cinderella away.

“It’s gonna be ok, Chloe.”

But her daughter is far from calm. “Mom? Mom!”

“I love you! Be strong, Chloe!”

The blue royal is dragged away to the dungeon. Chloe tries to follow but the guards block her path. She grips her sword and stands to challenge the red royals.

“That’s not fair! Let her go!”

The queen shows mock surprise. “Oh, bless your heart.”

Chloe charges with her sword held high. In the corner of my eye Red’s pulling something out. A pocket watch-?

Flash!

The two girls collide and a snap of light engulfs them. I’ve seen some strange magic in my time but that was something completely new. That was no portal, no spell… What could possibly have caused them to vanish?

“Oof!”

One of the guards crashes into me, sending us both tumbling to the ground and my cloak slips off. Oh no-!

“Well well, what have we here?” The red queen looks down at me. “Here, let’s fix you up, shall we?”

She snaps her fingers and another guard hauls me to my knees. Ow! I feel them clasp something around my neck- A metal collar. Attached to a red chain.

“Stop this madness!” I order and hold up a hand. But no magic sparks to life. An enchanted collar?

“Obey, Sanderson.” The queen yanks the chain and I fall to the muddy ground. “Do you want these people to suffer?”

“Let her go!” I hear Remus growl somewhere.

The queen huffs. “No.”

He fights his way forward. His suit is just as torn as my dress. “Take me instead!”

Wh-What? No, Remus! What are you doing?

“Hm. A Sanderson witch or a simple peasant? I don’t think so.” Guards seize Remus and force him to kneel. The red royal approaches him slowly with an intrigued smirk. “Interesting… Oh, how precious! You love her.”

My pulse snaps. Love?

Remus doesn’t back down. He keeps glaring up at her with his jaw set tight. In a split second his gaze flickers to mine. He’s biting his tongue. Why would he speak out to save me? Quit it, Remus! She’ll chop off your head!

“Yes. I love her. Please don’t hurt her anymore.”

My jaw drops. He loves me?

“And I thought your father was pathetic,” the queen sneers. “The question is does she return your love?”

Everyone’s eyes turn down to me. Do I love him…? Yes. I do love you, Remus. Despite my stubborn mind telling me not to, my heart can’t let you go. But how can I answer yes? She’ll use Remus as leverage against me. I can’t put him at further risk.

My lip quivers as I lift my saddened eyes to the diabolical royal. “No. I do not love him.”

It’s convincing, because the reaction it gets from Remus shows me his heart just broke. I know that look all too well. I’m so sorry.

“Aw, boo-hoo,” the queen mocks and waves her hand. “Lock her away and I’ll find use for her later. Maybe a housemaid.”

Locked away. My fears are coming true. Go ahead, Royal Highness. Lock me away in the dark where no one can ever find me. I’ve been broken before, I can heal again. But will Remus?

The chain is tugged and I’m forced to follow, but suddenly a man bursts through the crowd. The guards grab him just before he reaches the queen.

“Ah, Charming. So nice to see you again.”

He must be Chloe and Chad’s father. God, how to tell him his wife is being executed and his daughter has vanished?

“Where is she? Where’s Cinderella?” he demands.

“Why? Are you looking for these?” The red royal holds up a gleaming pair of silver heels that’s just been handed to her. Oh Lord. I’m too late.

Charming’s face falls. “What have you done?”

She lazily flings them to the ground and they shatter. The king falls to his knees and reaches out for the gleaming shards.

“Not so funny now, am I?”

“No… No! No!” I screech as I’m pulled away.

��Quiet!” The guard leading me barks.

I hang my head in shame, crawling pathetically down stone stairs into the inky darkness. Whatever prison or dungeon this is, none will ever be able to hide my disgrace.

“In here!”

The sound of creaking metal means a door is being opened. The guard grips my torso and tosses me in, locking the cell. How did I let this happen? I was supposed to be in charge of magic security. Is there no right place for me in Auradon?

How long has it been? How many more innocent lives have been slaughtered because of the queen’s rage? Why must she keep me locked down here instead of killing me too?

Thud thud thud!

Hurried footsteps alert me to look up. Someone’s coming. Probably to finish the job-

“Remus?” I gasp weakly.

He kneels down and clings the bars separating us. How can he still love me after what I said? Why would he risk coming down here?

“I’m sorry, I had to see you. I-I’m sorry about earlier…” He pants and hangs his head. “I know what you’ve been through and never want you to feel that pain again. But… I love you, Magica.” He softly presses his hand to mine. “Even though you’ll hate me-”

“No, no,” I quickly interrupt. I’m not going through this again. I’m not pretending to not love someone anymore. “Remus I could never hate you. I… I think I love you too. Even though I’m supposed to have only one true love.” I try to ease the atmosphere with a small chuckle. “Guess I cheated Fate after all.”

Remus’ melancholy face shifts to one of bewildered enchantment. He leans his forehead against the bars and slips a hand through to caress my cheek. I’d forgotten what it’s like to feel loved. I miss it.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“No tricks,” I answer honestly and press a soft kiss to his cheek through the bars.

If there was no cage separating me I would bury myself in his arms and give all the love I have left. But even through this small act Remus moans against the bars to show his affection.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he promises and gets up to search for the key. “I’ll get you out of here-”

I grab his hand to stop him. “No. If I rebel against the queen she’ll hurt you.”

Remus kneels down again, this time with a stern look. “Do not ask me to have to witness you walking to the courtyard to have your head chopped off.”

Aw. Gory, but still very sweet. He’s-

Snap!

Ow! Something tugs at my head, almost as if an invisible knife is slicing through my brain. I buckle down and Remus starts panicking.

“Something’s happening…” I grunt in pain.

“Magica! What’s wrong?”

“Something’s… changing.”

Indeed, I feel the magic around us being warped. What-?

Flash!

“What’s my name?” She asks the crew.

“Uma!”

She smirks and points to the audience. “That’s Principal Uma to you. So you better get it straight, or you’ll be walking the plank.”

“She’s just kidding, just kidding!” Fairy Godmother assures the crowd.

“I never got to go to Auradon Prep. But as its captain I am proud to be charting a new course to a bright future. Beyond the old ways of heroes and villains.” She finds me standing in the back and we both nod. “So in that spirit I’d like to welcome Princess Red of Wonderland.”

Everyone looks expectantly for Red but she’s staying near the back while her mother remains seated. The queen seems to be toying with something… Playing cards?

“Excuse me.” The queen’s head rises to look at Uma. “Do you mind?” she asks kindly.

I do, actually,” she replies.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Red asks nervously.

“We’re my favorite game.” She chuckles as she stands and shuffles the deck. “Hearts!”

The queen’s red and white gown stands out in the crowd. Wait. I could've sworn her dress was all red. And she’s… smiling? The cards fly across the sky and pop into heart-shaped bubbles.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She apologizes to the crowd. “I couldn’t help myself, I’m just so excited for my daughter to be here.”

Her loving gaze traces back to Red, who’s approaching with her own smile.

“Well nothing I say is gonna top that, so… Have a great year, y’all!” Uma finishes.

Something changed. But what? It feels like a faint dream but I swear I was imprisoned in chains.

The crowd laughs in delight as Twilight and Dude run to and fro through the sea of people. While the students and parents dance and enjoy the snack table I walk up to the redhead VK.

“I don’t know what you did, but you’ve proven to be good, Red. But thou be warned: manipulating the future has a cost. The bill will come due.”

But before she can respond her mother tugs her away for a dance. Uma walks up from behind and we both watch Red and Chloe jig about.

“Getting your way can be dangerous when you mess with the fabric of time,” Uma says. “They did something, didn’t they?”

I nod. “You and I both sense it. Something shifted not too long ago.”

Just then Remus walks into the room with Adam in tow. Remus. Does he-? Could that have been a dream too? Or maybe…

“Go to him,” Uma says. “It’s time you went on a date, Sparky. Though I never pinned you for a ginger fan.”

I roll my eyes. “Uma-”

“No, no, I get it!” She holds her hands up defensively. “A Rumpelstiltskin and a Sanderson? It sounds like a match! Now go.”

She pushes me forward and I nearly trip on my skirt.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” I giggle. God, please let it be so. “Remus! Can I talk to you? Alone?”

The spark in his eye tells me he does feel the same. “Sure! See ya later, Adam.”

He offers an arm, which I graciously take, and we walk out to the gardens where it’s less noisy and more private.

“So, what’s on your mind?” he asks. “I think today went pretty good.”

“Remus, would you like to go out on a date sometime?”

The question throws him off guard. Remus stops in his tracks and looks at me as if an angel just descended.

“Wha- Really? Yes! How did you know?”

“I just… Know. Once upon a time you might have confessed to me. Not that you remember- It’s complicated.”

Remus shrugs and nudges my shoulder. “You know best. So… Does that offer for a date still stand?”

I nudge him back with a playful smile. “Yes.”

He catches my gaze again and we stop walking. No words, just two young people testing the waters. Time truly is a fickle thing. We’re not quite grown-ups, but I’m worlds away from where I used to be. Who I used to be. Maybe Remus is the person who’s been there for me all along.

Remus breaks the silence. “Does this mean things are normal again?” he whispers.

I have to stop myself from smirking. “Things are never normal for us, Remus.”

“Yeah, but… Can we abnormally be a couple?”

He’s leaning closer. Unknowingly I’ve gotten closer too. We each see an unspoken message and our lips finally meet. No memories of Carlos trouble me with guilt. I just feel Remus, and the love that he feels for me. It’s no wonder people enjoy love so much. It’s time to end my time of being alone and search for the next step in my life.

We break apart to breathe, but don’t stray too far. Whatever the future brings… It shows so much potential.

“With a little bit of luck, I hope so.”

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tearsoffears · 1 year ago

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#newsies x reader #newsies #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #crutchie morris #crutchie newsies #david jacobs #davey jacobs

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ur-local-theatre-obsessed-menace · 3 months ago

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Lovable-Awkwardness

D. Jacobs x katherinessister!reader

Characters: Davey, Katherine, Jack, Les

Pairing(s): Davey/reader Jack/Katherine

Fic starts below the cut!

Also, this took me SOOO long- Man writers block and school sucks man :/ But, enjoy!

Y/N was tasked with helping her sister, Katherine, with writing about the strike. Now here’s the thing, she can’t write. She has been organizing the papers, and bringing them to Wiesel for so long.

“Are you sure you want me to help you?” Y/N asked her sister, looking at the typewriter nervously.

“Yes Y/N, I know you can do this. Now, I need to go ask some questions about the strike, okay? Don’t do anything too dangerous, okay?” Katherine said, hugging and kissing her sister's cheek.

Y/N nodded, hugging Katherine back and smiling.

Once her sister was out of the room, Y/N groaned, laying her head on her desk.

‘Hmm.. I’m writing this from scratch? Well, start with a headline I guess…’

Y/N wrote for hours, documenting everything she knew, well, everything except for a headline, but that will come after.

‘Headlines headlines headlines… How about… “NEWSBOYS TAKE THEIR STRIKE TO THE WORLD”..? No…. lets see… “NEWSIES STOP THE WORLD”.. Huh.. a little hyperbole never hurt anyone..’

Y/N smiled triumphantly, standing up, quickly heading to the printing press in the other room.

She knew Katherine would return with a picture for the paper, so she’d have to wait, but she’ll be happy.

‘I could probably get it on the paper and just have Kath add the picture later’

Y/N ran the printing press, making sure to have hundreds of copies ready by getting most of the empty paper supply in the other room, when Katherine got home, a big picture of the Newsies, their fists in the air, Jack center, Davey and Les to his right, and Crutchie to his left, in her hand.

“Hey Kath! Just in time! Do you mind finishing up making the copies?”

“Yeah totally? Wait, let me read what you wrote first!”

Katherine took the newspaper from Y/N’s hand, and quickly read it, her eyes widening.

“Y/N… I couldn’t have written it better! I never knew how good you are at writing! I’ll have to take you to interview some of the boys!”

“You really think so Kath..? I’ve never been really good at writing before..”

“Are you crazy? The boys will go crazy when they find out just how good you wrote them! You painted it like Jack and Davey were crazy heroes!”

Y/N chuckles, taking the paper and picture from her sister, pasting the picture on.

“I mean, they are crazy.”

Katherine chuckles, taking the, now finished first copy, and running it through the printing press.

“You have a good point. Here, how about we let this run for a few hours, and go visit everyone! Remember Davey, Jack, and Les?”

Y/N recalls the boys, having met them once before.

“Yeah.. I think so..? Davey.. Les.. Oh! Davey is Les’s older brother, no?”

“Mhm! Let's go catch them! They're still out selling, so we can walk back with them!” Y/N nods, pulling on her shoes and running out the door after her sister.

“Here they are now! Jack! Davey!”

Katherine grabs her sister's hand and drags her to the three boys.

Jack, Davey, and Les turn around, seeing the two running over, Y/N stumbling over her own feet as she gets dragged over.

“Hey guys!”

Katherine says, stopping in front of them.

“Oh hey Kath’. What ‘appened to her?”

Jack eyed the girl, hunched over with her hands on her knees.

“She… Dragged… Me…”

Y/N stammers out, in between breaths.

“I Uh… I got an extra water? You want it?”

Davey dug through his satchel, pulling out a full water bottle and handing it to the girl.

“Thank you..”

Y/N graciously takes the water from him, her fingers accidentally grazing over his, causing his face to flush pink.

“I- Uh.. Your welcome”

Jack smirks, nudging his friend's shoulder.

“Hey! I’s got an idea! Kath, Les, you two come with me to check on the printing press, and Y/N, Davey, you two go and sell the last few papes. Y/N, here are my extras. Keep the change!”

Jack winked, running off with Les and Katherine, smirking at his ‘master plan’.

“So uh.. Let's get to selling?”

Y/N nods, finishing the bottle of water and throwing it in the nearest trash can.

“So.. The strike is starting tomorrow, yea?”

Davey nods, selling his last few.

“Yeah. One of the other guys made a good point to Jack, so he’s pushing it back by a day so we can all get a decent amount of money to support us.”

Y/N nods, trying to sell hers.

“Hey,uh… I see you're struggling to sell so… Jack taught me something, and as much as I hate it, you need to lie a little. Make up a headline..? Like… Uhm… for example… ‘Three headed baby born in lower Brooklyn!”

People instantly crowd the two, buying out all of Y/N’s newspapers she was given.

“Thanks Davey..!”

Davey blushed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

“It's uh… It's nothing..! Let's head back so the others don't get worried about us, yea?”

Y/N nods, agreeing with Davey, following behind him.

“Actually uhm.. Could you walk in front of me? The Delancy’s may be around and… They aren’t the best around girls…”

Y/N gives him a weird look, causing Davey to give her a knowing look, making the girl nod and move to be in front of him.

“Yeah… Thanks again..”

Davey nods, keeping an eye out around them.

“Y/N… Umm.. Come here please... I hear their voices in that alleyway.”

Davey reaches for her hand pulling her closer to him entwining his fingers with hers.

“Please stay close… They should leave us alone if we ignore them..”

Y/N nods, matching his pace in a brisk speed walk, passing the alleyway quickly.

Davey looked behind them a few times, making sure no one was following them.

“Davey, we're safe, right?”

He nods in response, letting go of her hand with a blush on his face.

The two walk in silence until they get to her and Katherines workshop, the door propped open.

“There you guys are! Me and Jack are going to get us all food, you two keep Les company while we're gone, okay?”

Davey nodded, and Y/N pulled up two chairs as Les was already sitting in one.

Y/N sat in awkward silence, trying to not stare out at Davey, so she kept glancing at the clock, the printing press, and the door, waiting for Jack and Katherine to come back. It was no doubt they were doing this on purpose, as Y/N had seen the way Katherine smirked evilly while she shut the door. And Katherine, Katherine knew. She knew that Y/N secretly had a thing for Davey, from the way her face went pink whenever she said his name, or the way Y/N perked up when she heard his voice. It was no secret.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Your uh.. You're looking around a lot..”

Y/N’s face flushed and she smiled, rubbing her head awkwardly.

“Y-Yeah! I’m just a bit hungry..!”

Davey smiled and nodded, causing the girl’s face to turn a bit redder.

“Davey..? Could you do me a favor..?”

Y/N watched as he nodded curiously in response. She stands up and goes to the printing press, grabbing one of the finished copies and handing it to Davey.

“Could you uh.. Read this for me…? I wrote it and I want to know if it is good…”

Davey nods, a kind smile on his face, as he turns his attention to the newspaper in his hands, and his eyes scan over the front page.

“Wow…. Y/N this.. This is amazing…!”

Y/N blushed, smiling awkwardly.

“You really think so..?”

Davey nods, a bright and excited smile on his face.

“It’s perfect! You really wrote this? We're going to be famous! Wait until the others read this! ‘Newsies Stop The World’.. A hyperbole! Y/N you realize how much of a help this is right? Do we owe you anything?”

Y/N shook her head, smiling awkwardly.

“N-No..! I just really wanna help you guys..!”

Davey smiled and handed her the newspaper again, and she handed it to Les, so he can read it too, earning a happy smile and thumbs up from him.

They continued to sit in silence, Y/N awkwardly glancing at Davey every now and then, gaining a smile from him, as she is unaware that he is doing the exact same thing.

Katherine opened the door suddenly, holding a few bags of fast food in her hand.

“We’re back guys-! Why does Y/N look so awkward? Ooooo! Did you tell him? Did you tell him that thing you’ve been wanting to tell him?”

Davey looked at Y/N with a raised eyebrow.

“About the newspaper?”

Y/N’s face flushed a bright red.

“Mhm! Yeah!”

Davey smiled and nodded, looking back to Katherine.

“Y/N is incredibly talented and creative! She wrote us so amazingly!”

Katherine nodded, evilly smirking at her sister’s blushing face.

“I’m so glad to have her. She is truly the best, isn’t she Davey?”

Y/N hid her face in her hands, hearing Jack’s laughing, as Katherine must’ve filled him in on the whole situation.

“Cmon Davey, why don’t you just tell her already? I can practically feel how tense you are around the poor thing.”

Katherine laughed at Jack’s prodding, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Jack, we talked about this..! She-”

Y/N got up and ran out of the building, sitting outside of it with her head in her hands, too afraid to hear what Davey had to say about her.

“Y/N? Are you out here?”

Davey pushed the door opening, seeing her sitting on the ground.

“Y/N..? Are you okay..?”

Despite his sure sounding voice, Y/N could hear the wavering at the end of his words. No doubt they told him.

“Y/N, look at me please.”

Davey sat down next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

Y/N lifted up her head, sniffling and wiping away tears that had fallen down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry.. I’m not upset Y/N I promise.”

Davey pulled her into a tight, reassuring embrace, resting his chin on her head.

“If uhm.. Would it help if I told you something?”

Y/N wasn’t given a chance to answer before he started speaking, running his fingers through her h/c hair.

“I.. I feel the same. I have for quite some time actually and… and Jack must’ve been plotting with your sister behind our backs..”

Y/N lifted her head, wide, hopeful eyes and a smile plastered on her face.

“There's that smile. Now, want to head back inside? This time..”

Davey stands up, offering her a helping hand.

“Together?”

She finished his question, standing up with his help, not quite letting go of his hand.

“Exactly.”

He entwined his fingers with hers, pulling her closer to him and pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

Y/N froze, then, without a second thought, she went on her tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to his lips, closing her eyes.

Davey cupped her face gently, closing his eyes and melting into the kiss, then pulling back for air a minute later.

“I.. wow uhm…”

She laughed awkwardly, then her attention was grabbed by snickers coming from the second floor window. The two looked up and saw Jack and Katherine, with Les standing between them eating chicken nuggets.

Y/N and Davey’s faces flushed, and they exchanged looks, knowing they had a whole hour of teasing ahead of them.

But, they knew this was meant to happen sooner or later, and there was no stopping it as they were ment to be.

THE END

#livesies #newsies #newsies broadway #newsies live #davey x reader #davey jacobs #davey newsies #katherine plumber #jack kelly

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