#brooklyn newsies oneshot

[miryum]

You know I love you (Spot Conlon x Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts forever

Warnings: Not proof-read, a sentence about a fist-fight, bruising

Remy tugged on your skirt. “Hey- Hey Y/n?” His voice was quiet and nervous.

“Yeah, bud?” Something was off in the usually lively and energetic boy. You scooped him up, bringing him to eye level. 

Remy looked down, avoiding your gaze. “Could I please have one of your apples?” 

“Of course,” you walked over to the small kitchen in the Brooklyn boarding house and picked an apple off of the counter. “Why? Did you spend all your money on toys again?” 

“Um, no.” Remy said, “I lost it.”

“You lost your money?” You frowned. Every newsboy bag had a special pouch for coins, its sole purpose being not to lose the pennies and nickels. “Where’s your bag?”

“I lost that too,” Remy mumbled.

With those words, you immediately knew that he was lying. The first thing a newsboy learns is to not lose his bag. It holds his papers and earned money- the most important things in a newsboy's life. What didn’t help your suspicion was that every younger boy was paired with an older, tougher, more experienced one. You made sure of that early on, pestering Spot until he relented (to be truthful, Spot had caved easily). Someone should’ve been watching Remy. 

“Who was with you?” You asked him. “Was it Patches?” Remy nodded and you gave a nod back. “Okay, you stay here and eat your apple. I gotta go talk to Patches really quickly.”

“Okay!” Remy looked happier now that he was out of your scrutiny and concern.

You scanned the room, seeing Patches stretched out on a couch, listening to Cal read a book. You weaved through the boys, hopping over legs and stepping over arms. You loved your newsie family and you would do anything for them. The scene of everyone relaxing after a long day warmed your heart. You knew that these boys would do anything for you and each other. 

You sat down on Patches’s legs, making him groan and kick your side. “I come in peace,” you said. 

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “What’s up?”

“You sold with Remy today, right?” He nodded in confirmation. You continued, “did you see him lose his bag?”

“He lost his bag?” Patches sat up, now invested in the conversation. “He told me that he gave it to Crackers for safekeeping.”

“Crackers was selling on Clermont Street,” you said slowly. “Weren’t you guys selling by Hicks and Clark?” 

Patches nodded, watching the concern on your face grow. “When did he tell you this?” You felt like you were interrogating the poor boy, but at the same time, you needed to know what happened. 

“I know Remy had his bag at four thirty. I remember him coming up to me and telling me about a guy who paid him double. I didn’t see him again until five.” 

“I’m going to try and get him to tell me the truth,” you stated. “Thanks Patches.” 

“Anytime.” 

You went back to the kitchen, finding Remy sitting on the counter, eating the apple to the core. But, before you could make it to the small child, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Knowing there was only one boy who would dare do that, you relaxed into your boyfriend. 

“Hey, Spotty,” you said quietly. 

“Hey, doll,” Spot replied softly. “How was your day?”

“You were with me for most of it,” you pointed out, referencing how Spot only let you sell with him.

“Yeah, but I got pulled away at the end.” Indeed, Fisher had needed Spot’s help with something before the selling day had ended, leaving you alone to pawn off the last few of your papers.

“It was alright,” you turned in his arms, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “But I’m a bit worried for Remy.”

“Why? What happened?” Spot’s brows furrowed, getting that telltale expression that meant he was stepping back into his King of Brooklyn role.

“That’s the thing; I don’t know.” You explained, “Remy said he lost his selling bag, but Patches said Remy told him he gave it to Crackers for safekeeping. But I know Remy. The kid would never lose or give away his bag. You know how protective he is over it.”

“Cause he carries his teddy bear in it.” Spot nodded, ending your thoughts.

“Exactly.”

“So what do you think happened?” Spot asked you.

You sighed and began speaking, “a little while ago, Lemon came to me saying how a group of older thugs had stolen her bag. I had her sell with Slugger for a bit, and the problem went away. Do you think that the same thugs could’ve stolen Remy’s bag?”

Spot hummed, “you’ve certainly got a memory about you, doll. It’s definitely not a bad idea. I’ll go talk to Lemon and Slugger about it and you talk to Remy?” 

“Deal,” you agreed.

“Pleasure doing business with you, doll.” Spot smirked and pressed a kiss to your lips before sauntering off to find Lemon and Slugger.

You chuckled before turning back to Remy and handing the kid another apple. “You’re hungry,” you commented.

“Yeah…” Remy looked shyly away.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “We all pitch in to buy this food.” After a moment, you quietly said, “I know you didn’t lose your bag, Remy. What really happened?”

Remy didn’t meet your eye, giving a small shrug.

“Was it some boys?” You asked, “did they steal it from you? Like they did Lemon?”

Remy chewed on his lip, turning the apple over in his small hands. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “They cornered me and called me small and weak.” His fingers clenched into fists. “Then they stole my bag. It’s happened four times.”

“Four times?” You knelt down so you could meet his eye. “Remy, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because they said I couldn’t fight my own fight. I’d be proving them right if I told you,” Remy mumbled. 

You sighed, feeling terrible and squeezed the boy into a tight hug. “Remy,” You whispered. “Don’t be afraid to tell me anything. Especially if people are bullying you.”

“But what if they come back?” Remy wondered, “What if they do this again?” He lifted his shirt slightly to show you a large, ugly bruise. Immediately, a rage boiled in your chest and your jaw clenched. “They did that?” You growled.

Remy nodded slowly, frightened by your change in demeanour.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down in front of the scared child. “It’s gonna be okay,” you told him. “We’re gonna get your money back from those boys and make them pay.” 

“Really? But how?”

You smiled stiffly, trying to disguise your hatred for the punks by a thinly veiled grin. “Don’t worry about that,” you said. “All you have to do is keep on selling.”

Remy’s head bobbed up and down happily. “Thank you so much, Y/n!” He hugged you tightly and you reciprocated the action. He then pulled away, his problem suddenly fixed and out of mind as only a six- year old could. 

Heart still burning with hatred for the thugs that messed with Remy, you knew it was now time to call upon the people who would stand by you no matter what- your newsies.

**

Remy cried out in his squeaky voice, “Read all about the car crash that killed dozens! Police are convinced it was murder!”

“Hello, squirt,” a deep voice laughed from behind Remy. “Sell any papers today?”

Remy gulped loudly and slowly turned around, gripping his bag tighter. “Wha-what do you guys want?”

“I think you know what we want,” the lead man growled, stepping up along with his group of ten or fifteen boys. 

“I-I’m not giving you my money!” Remy stomped his foot. 

“Oh really?” The leader laughed loudly. “What are you gonna do? Fight us?” The rest of the boys chuckled along with their leader.

“Well, no,” Remy admitted. “But this time, I have friends.” You stepped out from around a corner. 

The goons glanced around at one another before bursting out in short, loud, ugly guffaws. “I’m sorry?” The leader snickered out, “A girl is gonna beat us up?”

“I’m going to ignore your misogynistic comment, even though you probably don’t know what that word means, and even though I could kick your ass, just to scare you into never coming near Remy again, I brought my boyfriend. You may know him as the King of Brooklyn?” 

Spot, along with his cavalry of newsies appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Spot snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you close. “Where you messin’ with my doll?” He asked, knowing whichever way they answered, he was gonna soak either way.

“You looking for a fight?” The leader bit back. 

Spot shrugged, smirking. “Maybe. But I’ll let you off if you don’t come near my newsies again.”

One of the cronies grabbed the leader and whispered something harsh to him. The leader scoffed, but said, “Fine. We won’t bother your pathetic newsies again.” 

“And my girl?” Spot’s thumb drew circles on your waist.

“Never said anything about her,” the leader smiled tauntingly. 

You glanced at Spot to see the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Don’t,” you whisper to him. 

“Doll,” Spot drawled, swinging a look down at you, grinning brilliantly. “I have to.” And with that, Spot stepped forward and punched the leader across the jaw. The newsies cheered and rushed forward, intent on standing up for one of their own. The bullies quickly ran away after a few hits. You took Spot’s hand in yours and thumbed the split knuckles. Before you could chide him however, Spot simply said, “You know I love you.”

“Yeah,” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “I do.”

#spot conlon #spot conlon imagine #spot conlon oneshot #spot #spot conlon x reader #Newsies #newsboys #newsie #newsies musical #new york #brooklyn #brooklyn boys #brooklyn’s hereeeee #oc male characters #fluff #angst #fist fight #kinda

[kellyscowboy]

Hiii!! You’re my favorite ikeshot person! You write their personalities and dynamic so well!!

could you write something based on the song the 30th by Billie Eilish? the story behind the song is someone gets into a really bad car wreck(or accident of some sort) and the aftermath of it

hii!! i meant to answer this sooo long ago but i got caught up w/ school & have also been in a sims 4 grind LMFAO. thank you so much for this request!! i apologize if this is a little off from what you may have expected or what i have written in the past. it's been a hot minute since i've written this dynamic so pls bare w/ me :'). again, thank you so much for this request! i appreciate you & your support <33333

i wasn't sure if you wanted this to be modern!au or in the canon au, but i made it canon. so it doesnt EXACTLY follow the lyrics. but essentially follows the point of the song!! ALSO!! @sparkedblaze this is also for you because you are the reason i write for ikeshot <3

CW: blood mentioned, car accident mentioned, uhhh probably cussing i lowkey don't remember tbh, UHH sad gays idk i forgot how to do this

Hotshot couldn't help but stare. It made him sick to do so, but he couldn't stop. It was like watching a gruesome fight that you couldn't tear your eyes away from. Except it was Ike. His Ike. All bruised, cut, and bloodied; scrawled out pathetically on a hospital bed. He was all but disfigured. All but unrecognizable.

But often times he had this look about him, and Hotshot couldn't help but think he looked the exact same as he did before the accident. He would just look off into the distance, similar to how he used to look at the stars before everything. Occasionally he would squirm under his boyfriend's intense stare. But outside of that, he said and did nothing. He wouldn't move an inch until a nurse came to make him eat, or until Hotshot would force him to use the bathroom.

"We don't need ya kidneys to fail, now. You'se already been through enough."

It made Hotshot nauseous to take care of the boy. They had never been in this position before. Usually, it was Hotshot laid up with a broken bone or some odd illness nobody else got. And Ike was always right at his side. It didn't feel right when the roles were reversed. Not to either of them.

Ike was knocked out for a long time. The doctors and nurses started to doubt he would ever wake up. They had begun to prep Hotshot for the worst, not that he ever listened to them. All he did was sit, stare, and pray to whatever god was listening that his boy would wake up.

When he did finally wake up, the hospital was in a frenzy. There was a hushed, excited buzz about the air. All the nurses would linger by the doorway of his room and gossip about his 'miraculous awakening.'

The second his eyes opened, he was bombarded with numerous questions from the doctors. They were long, confusing questions that contained words that Hotshot could hardly believe were real. Ike was quickly overwhelmed. Tears teetered on the brink of his eyes and his breathing became rapid.

"Would ya stop pesterin' him for a second? He just woke up! What's wrong with the lotta ya? Huh? Ain't you supposed to be professionals? Let the boy breathe!" Hotshot yelled as he jumped to his feet. "He ain't just some medical miracle, alright? He's a person just like you 'n me. Give 'im a second."

One by one, the doctors and nurses began to shuffle out of the room. Each one glancing over their shoulders as they left. Hotshot could hear their gossiping whispers outside the door as he sat down closer to Ike.

"What's happenin'?" Ike asked. His voice was small, hoarse, and confused.

Hotshot furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed his lover's hand. "What'dya mean? Dont'cha remember? You was hit by one of them fancy new electric carriages."

Ike's initial confusion turned into a quick look of horror as he caught a glimpse of his bruised arms. "But... I'm alive right? I'm here? This is real?" The boy had started to freak out. He analyzed his arms, turning them every which way. He leaned forward, wincing as he did, and yanked the cover off his legs. It wasn't a pretty sight, and Hotshot had to stop himself from dry heaving just from seeing his boyfriend in such a state.

Gently, Hotshot pulled the blankets back over the boys legs. "You'se alright, Ike. For a couple of days there, I was worried. You'se was knocked out cold. But ya alive now. That's all that matters. You're alive." He wanted to do something. Squeez the boys hand, give him a pat on the leg... something. But he couldn't in fear of hurting the boy further. So, he just nodded and flashed him a forced, tight smile. "I think ya oughta lay down. You get yourself too worked up sometimes. It'll get worse if ya don't relax a little."

The other boy couldn't help but let out a laugh. He grabbed his chest in pain after he did. "Sounds like somethin' I'd usually tell you."

"Right." Hotshot rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, I reckon them so-called professionals out there are gonna wanna ask ya some questions. I'll make sure they go easy on ya, yeah?"

Ike nodded and closed his eyes as the other boy got up to let the doctors back in. He took a deep breath, once again wincing in pain, and prepared himself for the horror that would be the next few minutes.

Hotshot often felt ashamed when looking back on the day of the accident. None of it was his fault. He was often reminded by the Brooklyn boys that there was no way he could've known. But he felt as though he should've. That he should have seen the conjugation of people and he should've known. He should've listened to his gut telling him it was someone he knew. Someone important. Should've ran up and helped. But he didn't.

"It was a Tuesday, Hotshot." Spot had told him in the hospital. "Ya never could'a known. He ain't never come over to visit on a Tuesday. 'Specially not so early. Quit beatin' yerself up about it."

Even Mike had come and talked to him. Usually, they just sat there together in complete silence. But even Mike knew it wasn't his fault. "Listen, I know we ain't close but I gotta talk to ya about this. Spot told me what happened. That you'd seen the accident but didn't think nothing of it and..." He paused. Hotshot prepared himself to get screamed at. Berated for being an absolute idiot and not helping the others brother. But the ambush never came.

"It ain't ya fault," Hotshot continued. "Honest. Ya know I'd scream and kill ya if it was. Ain't no way you coulda took one look at the scene and knew it was him. Hell, I'm his twin brother and I didn't even get the sense that something was wrong 'till Scram came runnin' to tell the news." He sighed again and took another pause. "Even if ya had known. Even if ya had gone and tried to help, what could you have done? Huh? Ya ain't a professional. Situation woulda been the same any way about it."

Hotshot nodded. He understood them. He understood everyone who had come to talk to him. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't stop beating himself up about it.

He relived the day in his head almost every single night. It was a normal Tuesday. Up as early as the birds, carrying the banner and collecting pity from people wandering the streets. He had seen the commotion early in the day. In fact, it had been right after he had bought his papers for the day.

It's far too early for this, he recalled thinking. There was always something going on in New York. Especially in Brooklyn and especially around the circulation buildings. Typically, it was a rough fist fight between two newsies, and at its worst it was a robbery of some sort. But neither of which would cause such a big commotion nor gathering of police and medical personnel.

Hotshot knew deep down something was wrong. He felt drawn to the accident, but he put it aside as his love for fights. Which is what he assumed it was. A big fight that got out of hand. Maybe one that had contanied multiple newsies instead of just two, or that had somehow gotten an adult of importance involved.

But he ignored the calling to the scene. He had a stack of papers on his bicep and they weren't going to sell themselves. Besides, the quicker he was done with work the quicker he could join Ike at Jacobi's. He hadn't even really thought of stopping to see what had happened. Just that it might be something interest, but not something he could be bothered to stop for.

Just thirty minute later, he heard Scram's pattering feet behind him. He turned quickly on his heel, looking down at the boy. He had a horrified look on his face and his cheeks were stained with tears. The boy began to speak, sputtering and rambling over himself. "It's- Ike- Well, he- It was a car- And-"

Hotshot's blood ran cold at the mention of Ike's name. The papers on his arm hit the ground with a thump and sent dust flying into the air around them. "Ike? What about Ike?" Scram began to cry again, flailing his arms and pointing behind him. Hotshot's heart sank. "Scram, spit it out! I need to know what happened!"

"There was an- an accident! He got hurt, real bad. Barely looks alive. He keeps askin' for ya! Ya gotta go! Quick! They're loadin' him into the ambulance!"

"Where, Scram? Where?"

Scram's face was red and covered in snot. "Right outside the circulation building!"

Hotshot's heart sank even farther, something he hadn't believed to be possible. "Listen to me, Scram. Listen good. You go run and you don't stop running 'till you find Mike, alright? You tell him everything. You tell Manhattan everything. Okay?" He didn't even wait for the boys response.

He abandoned his dropped papes as he sprinted as fast as he could back to the circulation building. As he arrived at the scene, he couldn't help but be angry. He pushed his way through the crowd, screaming obscenities and demanding they let him into the ambulance. Police tried to hold him back when he finally made it to the front.

"He's been asking for me! They told me he's been asking for me! I'm Hotshot! Ya gotta let me in!" Hotshot screamed. "His family's all the way in 'Hattan! Ya can't let him go alone! He'll be scared!" Before he could stop himself, he screamed: "Ya can't let 'im die alone!"

Upon hearing the last bit—and discussing the boys name, which the injured boy had been groggily repeating over and over again—the officers let the boy through. Hotshot climbed into the back of ambulance and gripped onto the other boys hand.

"Ya think I'm gonna die?" Ike sputtered out, blood covering his mouth. "I- Mike's gonna be so mad. He ain't gonna have no-one."

Hotshot realized what he had yelled previously and began to panic. "Nah, nah. Ya ain't gonna die, Ike. You'se too strong to, okay? I just said that so they'd let me through. That's all. You'se gonna be just fine."

"I'm scared, Hotshot. I'm really scared."

"Hey, don't say that. You'se gonna be alright. Don't be scared. I ain't! I know you'se gonna be just fine. Okay." But the truth was, Hotshot was horrified. He hadn't been so scared in his entire life. He dropped his voice to a whisper as he continued to speak. "Ya still look so pretty, ya know that? Gorgeous, Ike. Ya gorgeous."

After hearing Hotshot's whispers, the boy took a deep, choked breath and closed his eyes.

After Ike finally woke up, he often thought aloud about what would've happened among different circumstance. Hotshot hated hearing it. He hated thinking about how, if the situation had only been slightly different, Ike could've died.

"What if it had been on Thursday? Someone else coulda been drivin' it. Goin' faster, not have slowed down or stopped. Coulda taken me straight into the next life."

"Would ya stop that?" Hotshot muttered. His face was deep in his hands.

Ike paused for a couple of minutes before speaking up once again. "I coulda been on ya bridge. They coulda sent me straight over into the water. I don't even know how to swim now. Imagine it with broken bones..."

"Ike."

"I coulda been in that neighborhood where all them families lived. Some little kid coulda found me and not told anyone cause they'd be scared they'd get in trouble or something."

"Ike."

"If it had been winter and it was snowing or rainin'. And the car had skidded, lost control. Hit me full speed."

Hotshot had started to tear up and his composure was breaking. "Ike, please." He begged in a broken voice.

But Ike couldn't help himself. He was spiraling. "Or if I was on one of them backroad nobody goes on. Nobody woulda even seen it happen. If just a small little thing was different, I'd probably be-"

"Ike!" Hotshot finally yelled. "Stop. You need to stop. I can't keep doin' it. Can't keep listenin' to ya kill yaself in your daydreams. You're alive, okay? You're alive. So just shut up! Because there's no life, no reality where I'm letting ya die. Alright? Especially not at the hands of some rich idiot's fancy car. So just... stop."

Ike nodded, his voice small. "Sorry. I just... I'm just freaking out. I dunno if I'm meant to be alive right now."

Hotshot sighed. "Listen. You'se the great person alive." He sat down and gently took ahold of his boyfriends hand. "If anyone in this world's meant to be alive, it's you. Alright?" He kissed Ike's hand and wiped at his eye with his own hand. "You're alive, Ike. Don't think about anything else. We got a buncha years ahead of us. Don't worry 'bout nothin' else."

#omg i looked it up #and the first car accident was in 1899 #so like #accurate????? #sorry #anyways #ummm sorry if this is not accurate LMAO #i have no written for ikeshot in so long #and also i dont think ive written a whole lotta angst for them #ALSO scram is my oc for brooklyn's like news guy #they send him out to tell other boroughs news and such #like brooklyns messenger #he runs alot #anyhow #hope u enjoyed and theyre not too botched LOL #ikeshot #ike newsies #hotshot newsies #newses #livesies #newsies live #ikeshot fic #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ newsies // oneshots ❥ #newsies oneshot #livesies oneshot

[dear-ao3]

newsies fic recs

cause you all asked

unfortunately i remember a lot of the good ones were on tumblr and so many people have changed their urls that they are not findable but, heres what i got

also keep in mind i havent read any of these in years and the summaries im giving are probably ass

these are all mostly ralbert, because that was what i read the most of, except for the ones at the end

the toaster fic (i used to remember this persons tumblr @ like 5 url changes ago but my brain is small and soupy so i am sorry). its crack, under 2k, absolute silliness and im still laughing about it five years later. modern era.

side by side its a really long ralbert soulmates fic where they are oblivious to hell and back. from what i remember its fluffy and silly. modern era.

voice okay she slaps ngl. its a modern era kind of angst situation. albert is mute. theres some referenced homophobia. lots of cuddles. 6k.

shaking thisss is a sick fic if i remember correctly. race is silly and gets a cold and there is cuddling. definitely part of a larger spralmer au but it works as a stand alone. under 5k. modern.

let the memory live again THIS FIC o gosh its killed me several times over. might be my favorite. idk. its up there. modern ralbert au. sad but also happy. albert is supposed to be dead and is not. he also has amnesia. its like 14k. read it at 2 am for maximum effect. god tier.

a love that will never grow old this is a sad canon era soulmate fic. race is alberts soulmate but albert is not races. theres also a sequel. the good kind of dad. multihap, 9k.

hero complex by @turtle-steverogers classic little ralbert oneshot, perfect amount of angst and comfort. albert is a firefighter and race is Worried also theres a dog. about 3k. modern.

thank u, next by the one and only @jack-kellys. its paranormal. its funky. its modern. its five parts and its complete. its 12k words and honestly like. i remember reading this and going absolutely batshit fizz is such a good writer (and is still actively writing newsies, throw them some prompts they love javey)

dont leave me by @sun-kissed-star its sprace, modern and spot is in the military. a good angst fluff angst ping pong match. 3.5k. theres some good and funny little jack moments :)

story written on skin by @patrocool oh my god the most well written soulmate au that i can possibly remember stumbling across at 3 in the morning and crying while reading. its a canon era sprace one. soulmate au where if one person gets injured the other person gets a mark. its really good. theres a part 1 and 2 and its long. like 15k long. read at 3am for best results.

the beast of brooklyn which i dont remember if ive actually read but i was asked to include it on the list so i did. mafia sort of au but also kind of beauty and the beast. well written and beautiful. fuckton of angst. sprace. modern.

#not a tag #from saph #newsies #newsies fic #newsies fic recs #ralbert #sprace #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #we can make more recs if you want more i have so many recs #katya does too

[bri-cheeses]

Hey not to freak you out but uh… Max’s mom brought cookie cake for everyone

jkjk I just wrote a Sprace oneshot and thought you Newsies fans out there might like it :)

#newsies #sprace #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #oh also there’s Javey ! #or javid depending on how u wanna spell it idk #also if you get that reference at the beginning of the post then good job 👏

[newsiesrewritten]

Newsies Rewritten Intro

Howdy! I’m Flintt (Any/All) and this is my Newsies Rewritten AU where I combine aspects of the 1992 movie, broadway newsies, west end newsies, and the book!

This is a passion project because I love getting nitpicky and in-depth with my works. This AU allows me to expand and make Newsies even more fun for me!

Newsies Rewritten is open for collaboration, which means you can send in asks to add headcanons to individual newsies and/or events to the plot!

I plan on posting the structure of each borough and a list of each newsie from each borough with their personalities and notabilities.

At the end of the day, this is purely for fun and to make connections!

Here’s a guide to all of tags:

Each tag will begin with newsies rewritten! Characters will be split by borough and if they’re an adult or newsie.

Spot Conlon - #newsies rewritten brooklyn, #newsies rewritten newsies

All oneshots, chapters, etc will be tagged with #newsies rewritten entry

All headcanons, analysis, etc, will be tagged by #newsies rewritten writing

All asks and collabs will be tagged with #newsies rewritten newspaper collumns

Sorry if it gets confusing, trying to keep it organized!

#newsies #newsies the musical #newsies musical #newsies the broadway musical #broadway newsies #newsies on broadway #livesies #broadwaysies #west end newsies #west endsies #newsies the movie #newsies movie #newsies 1992 #1992sies #newsies book #booksies #newsies rewritten #newsies rewrite #newsies rewrite au #newsies rewritten boroughs #newsies rewritten manhattan #newsies rewritten queens #newsies rewritten staten island #newsies rewritten brooklyn #newsies rewritten bronx #newsies rewritten characters #newsies rewritten newsies #newsies rewritten adultsies #newsies rewritten writing #newsies rewritten entry

[willowistic22]

Newsies high school athlete au (headcanons)

So. We still got borough divisions within this au bcs at the end of the day it’s still newsies. If there isn’t anything relating to turfs, is it really a newsies au? 

The Lower Manhattan newsies go to The World high school (because I’m very unoriginal when it comes to naming stuff). Their school color is blue, as in like their sport jerseys and letterman jackets yknow. 

Brooklyn (just because I have Brooklyn newsies in the mix as well) newsies go to The Journal high school (I know it’s horrible, please don’t maul me for this). Their school color is red. 

In their schools if you’re a part of a sports team, you’re not automatically considered popular. Probably popular by association, meaning most kids can probably match your name with your face and what sports team you’re in but you’re probably just a few ladders below the actual popular kids in school. They’re mostly the conventionally attractive, rich, mostly throws the parties, or just have a lot of gossip on them. 

I’ll probably be making oneshots circling around this au so there isn’t much of a plot. 

Another thing to mention: I, a non-American, will be writing this au. So if I get anything wrong with the realities of the American school system, please be understanding. I also only have general knowledge on each sport mentioned so also please forgive me to anyone who play these sports if I get anything wrong too. Also I have zero clue on how American Football works so I won’t be including that sport in here. hehe:) 

Basketball team 

We’ve got Albert, Jack, Mush, Blink from Lower Manhattan(obv there will be more people in the team, but I’ll just be mentioning the newsies for the sake of the au) 

Jack is team captain and is usually the point guard. His ego can sometimes get in the way though, so it’s a bit tough to get him to pass the ball. Which is pretty contradicting with his position, but the rest of the team will admit he’s the best dribbler and passer plus a great leader. 

Blink is mostly a power forward. He’s good at the same things as Jack plus he does great at long shots and would say that he’s ‘okay-ish’ at defending. He was actually the first one their coach pitched to be team captain but Blink didn’t want to because he knows he’s not a leader. 

Mush is a small forward for the most part. He’s good at shooting different types of shots and just roaming around the court in general. Most of their enemy teams would say Mush is the most annoying player on their team because he’s so agile, quick, and full of stamina when playing. It can get a bit tricky to steal the ball when they can’t catch up to him. 

Albert is their star shooting guard. He’s probably considered to be one of the more popular ones in the team (though I have explained joining a sports team doesn’t necessarily make them popular), mostly well known for being a great shooter on the court. Also most of the kids find him attractive saying like ‘you’re so hot for a ginger’ which Albert is still trying to determine whether he should take it as a compliment or an insult. 

Mush and Blink are unstoppable, as they’ve been friends the longest since middle school (ignoring the fact that there’s definitely smth more going on between them but that’s beside the point) 

Then there’s Spot and Hotshot from Brooklyn (I’m sorry you guys they’re like the only Brooklyn newsies I know plus like two ocs) 

Spot is a point guard but sometimes plays small forward. Literally everyone is surprised the shortest guy on the team is the team captain but his basketball and leadership skills exceed his height so everyone lets it slide. He likes to think his height gives him an advantage to be agile and quick on the court. 

Hotshot is the center. Yes, this man is pretty much the tallest one in the team so it was a no brainer. But he is very good at defending and stealing the ball. 

They’re practically opposites when playing, but the two are practically glued together by the hip since the longest anyone can remember. Everyone who knows them is pretty sure the two are going to the same college together. 

Those two and Albert knew each other since the fifth grade when Albert temporarily moved to Brooklyn. Though they aren’t as close as they are now, they’re still a pretty tight trio and are always looking forward to playing against each other. 

Jack likes to get his ego in the way when it comes to Spot. Jack sees it as a rivalry because he doesn’t really like Spot. Spot himself isn’t sure why, but he finds it rather funny when he can piss Jack off. 

Their weird little fued gets even worse when Jack found out his younger brother had a fling with Spot. 

There are definitely a few things about Jack that pisses Spot off, but he’ll admit he’s a great guy and looks up to him. 

Volleyball team

There’s Davey, Specs, Buttons, Race, Tommy Boy

Okay so there’s supposed to be six people in the court,I know. But these five are the newsies who I think play volleyball, okay? 

Alright, Davey for the most part is a libero when playing. He’s agile and his arms are strong to withstand an impact of a serve. It wasn’t a position he was happy to get, but he grew to like it in the long run. 

Race is mostly a hitter or spiker, and his usual position is an outside hitter. He’s a literal monster on the court. Quick on his feet, can jump real high, and can adapt fast as well. He’s sometimes appointed as a floor captain. 

Buttons is usually a middle blocker. Not because he’s the tallest, seeing that most of their teammates are just all so damn tall that it’s hard to determine who the tallest one is. This position choice is mostly because he’s great in defense, reading the other team’s attacks, and only mild in the spiking department compared to the others. Though, he has scored a point or two in a game before. 

Specs is usually a Setter. On rare occasions he plays opposite hitter but very rarely. He’s got a great balance in both defensive and offensive plays. Not necessarily the best at every skill, but there’s an excellent balance when it comes to the receiving, setting, and hitting. And with his natural leadership charm, it was easy to appoint him as team captain. 

Tommy Boy mostly plays opposite hitter. Sometimes he alternates positions with Davey but that doesn’t happen often. Most of the team’s height aren’t distinguishable at a first glance, but Tommy Boy is a little more obvious being the shorter one in the team. It doesn’t make much of a difference as it’s only an inch different. 

Race is never picky when it comes to hanging out with the kids on his team. He’s pretty sure he’s been to everyone’s house before. But it’s obvious he’s closer to Specs, Buttons, Davey, and Tommy Boy. Mostly because they share many mutual friends. 

Davey is usually the designated driver of the five. He drops everyone off their respective houses, which fits well since his house is the furthest from the school out of everyone. 

Specs and Race are the unstoppable duo when they’re playing their usual positions on the court. 

The team’s tradition in celebrating a win is by raiding a McDonald’s at an ungodly hour of the night. And it has to be at that weird ass hour or else it doesn’t count. 

Swimming 

There’s Jojo, Katherine, Crutchie, and Henry 

There’s no position when it comes to swimming (as far as I know at least) But they've got their preferred swimming strokes. Though, they can do all the swimming strokes on their own. 

Jojo is the fastest when doing freestyle. Mostly because he’s already been competing since he was a kid seeing that his mother also did competitive swimming. Though, he’s not necessarily that tall. 6’1 at best, but he doesn’t think too much about his height. Just happy to be swimming because he loves doing it. 

Katherine is the best at breaststrokes. She isn’t really the fastest in the team by any means, but she’s definitely the fastest in breaststrokes. Though, she has won medals for doing the butterfly. 

Crutchie is the best at the butterfly though. It gets a little tough for him to be allowed to compete in some swim meets since his right leg was amputated. Though, he has been allowed to compete in some events and won them. Still, most of his medals are won from events he competed outside of school. 

Henry is the best in the backstroke, though you wouldn’t be able to tell he’s a swimmer because of his height. But when it comes to the medley relay events, he’s the first swimmer their coach will consider doing the backstroke for the team. 

Their tradition after every swim meet, win or lose, drinki Henry’s homemade hot chocolate. Henry would bring in like a big thermos and then pass around paper cups for everyone. 

Uniform wise, they’re only given matching swim trunks, or one piece swimsuits for the girls, but Jojo, Katherine, Crutchie, and Henry all have matching swimming caps. Well, the colors match but the patterns are all different. 

Jojo is the designated driver of the four. Mostly because he’s the only one who can freely take his family car whenever and wherever he pleases since he’s an only child and both of his parents rarely need it to go to work. Katherine, despite being the richest one of the four, isn’t trusted by her father to drive after hitting one curb. She’s not even a bad driver overall. It was just that one fuck up that got her dad to take away any car privileges. 

But Katherine’s place is their headquarters. As in, when there’s a swim meet in the weekend, the four pile up at her penthouse before going to the event together. Driven by Jojo of course. 

Soccer 

We’ve got Smalls, Finch, Mike, and Ike 

So there’s Smalls, and her role can switch to a defensive or offensive one. Just depends on the formation and strategy. But she is mostly assigned as a wingback, since that position is both a defensive and offensive one. She’s got a lot of stamina and is really quick with her feet. Great at dribbling for a long while till she gets the chance to pass it on to another player to score.

Finch is like Smalls, being both good in a defensive and an offensive role. But he’s better being placed in the middle as it requires less stamina. He still has good stamina, but he’ll admit that Smalls is a lot stronger than he is. So he’s mostly a central midfielder, and sometimes switches to an attacking midfielder with his killer dribbling skills. 

Mike is usually a center forward and sometimes an attacking midfielder. He’s got a very confrontational personality, which makes him really good in offensive plays. He’s great at ball control against the enemy players, and knows how to perfectly time his passes. And when the opportunity presents itself, he will take a shot to score. Half of the time he scores. 

Ike is a striker but sometimes he can be a winger. He’s really great at taking both short and long shots, so his positioning choice was a no brainer for their coach. Though, their coach can sometimes get warry when putting him up front since he’s not afraid of stealing the ball, and he’s damn good at it. Which means a lot of tackling, and he’s also specifically good at that . He doesn’t necessarily injure others, but just enough power to trip them over on the ground and take over the ball. 

Mike and Ike confuse the other team on the field often. It also doesn’t help that they have nearly similar jersey numbers and names on their back on top of their already identical face and just overall body. ‘Mike 12’ and ‘Ike 21’. They both wanted to put their last names on the back instead of their first names, but their coach forbade them. Although the confusion acts are sometimes helpful in the strategies, their team will admit. 

Finch works well with Ike. Being able to communicate with only a few words and coming up with small plans to make a goal. Finch assists Ike in scoring greatly. 

What they love doing after practice is sitting on the bleachers to enjoy some food their coach specifically told them not to indulge in that much. 

They have a shared playlist for their trips since soccer season requires them to travel a lot. It ranges to popular pop songs, some really sad Taylor Swift songs, to some out of context musical numbers. The whole team chipped in to make this playlist. It’s basically a tradition. 

Victory dinners are strictly either McDonald’s or Taco Bell. 

Cheerleading 

So we have Sarah, Sniper, Romeo, Elmer, and Barney Peanuts 

Sarah is usually a base but can sometimes double as a flyer when needed. She’s great at doing a lot of stunts but she also has the strength to hold up the flyers. 

Sniper is mostly a flyer. She’s great when being lifted up and she’s also just naturally a great dancer. 

Romeo is a flyer but sometimes can be a base when needed. He’s considered to be one of the flexible ones and he’s also a dancer. 

Elmer usually doubles as either a flyer or a base when doing a routine. He’s great at tumbling and all and is also a great dancer as well. 

Barney Peanuts is usually a backspot or a base. Easily the tallest member of the team, though he is one of the more flexible ones. But his flexibility is usually for tumbling. 

Their cheer team usually cheers on the sidelines of sports and such. Mostly football, but the main five don't necessarily like that sport. Romeo doesn’t even understand the sport, and doesn’t want to. 

They do a lot of competitions though. And it always gets them excited when they meet up at school before heading off to the competitions in a bus together. 

Sarah was chosen to be cheer captain. She wasn’t really excited when she first got the role but she grew to like it. She was chosen because she’s got that natural leader charisma in her and has 

Barney Peanuts has been doing gymnastics since a young age though, so he’s the one that mostly helps the others when doing tricks. Teaching them how to do it and such. 

#newsies #newsies headcanons #jack kelly #davey jacobs #sarah jacobs #katherine pulitzer #crutchie morris #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #kid blink #mush meyers #elmer kasprzak #jojo de la guerra #henry newsies #mike and ike newsies #barney peanuts #sniper newsies #smalls newsies #romeo newsies #specs newsies #finch cortez #i looked up the different player positions for each sports just to get this au to be as realistic as possible #yall i'm so sorry if i get anything wrong once again #pls come and teach me abt your sport in my ask box or just barge in my messages i don't mind

[jumpy-frog]

sprace oneshot !!

summary: "[W]hen Race returned to the Lodging House after finishing selling his pape’s for the day with Spot wandering in behind him, the Manhattan newsies were most certainly not happy."

or: the manhattan newsies are scared of spot, and don't believe race when he speaks kindly of him. they quickly realise that race is right.

#newsies #1992sies #livesies #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace

[we-are-inevitable]

Do you think you may write more queer elders newsies stuff at some point? Perhaps more oneshots with different newsies giving their queer knowledge onto people who need it (Begging for trans elder Race)

honestly ... i rlly want to

i think the one i have in mind is trans race and gay spot being happy and in love in brooklyn,, and also everything in me is telling me that newsbians are 100% together in this au as well ?? i'd love to write more !!

#ask a jac ! #sprace #newsbians #livesies

[spinningerster]

my interpretation of when jack, davey and les visit brooklyn - was a lot of fun to write so hope you like it!

#newsies #newsies fanfiction

[ao3feed-newsies]

The seas you taught me to swim in.

by, Weezerfan12345 by Weezerfan12345 Short oneshot on how Racetrack Higgins got stuck at Brooklyns lodging house and how he managed to confess his bottled up feelings towards the king of Brooklyn, Spot Conlon. Words: 543, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies (1992), Newsies: The Broadway Musical! (2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Spot Conlon, Racetrack Higgins Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins Additional Tags: Gay, Based on Newsies (1992), Oneshot, short and sweet, Soft Spot Conlon, Love Confessions, Gay Newsies, Based on Newsies!: the Musical read : https://ift.tt/rL06DEj - March 20, 2024 at 09:42PM

#AO3feed #newsies #fanfic #newsies fanfic

[heliads]

would it be possible for you to do a spot conlon x reader where the reader is from a wealthier family and is a little hesitant or resistant to spot at first (maybe they meet because reader wants to buy a pape) but slowly opens up to spot and all that?

newsies <33

masterlist

Spot Conlon is pacing back and forth, trying to pretend like he isn’t completely bored out of his mind. It isn’t as if he’s suffering from a lack of things to do- he’s been working since the day he was born, it feels like, and without him the entirety of the Brooklyn newsies would fall to pieces. He’s got turf to defend, papes to sell, and dozens of newsboys to keep in order.

That being said, the afternoons seem to get later and later, and when all he’s got scheduled for now is the same pape selling that he’s been doing since forever, it’s not hard to get bored. Right now, Spot’s glancing around, trying to find some sort of distraction from the relentless monotony of having no available customers, and then he sees it. Or, more importantly, he sees her.

There’s a girl coming out of a tailor’s shop across the street, and she’s easily the prettiest girl Spot has ever seen. He’s had the privilege of being acquainted with a fair amount of the girls in this city, especially on this sort of the Brooklyn Bridge, but he’s never even chanced an encounter with someone like her. She walks like she’s never had to worry about having enough money to get by, like the city is a game and she’s so far in the lead that she can’t even look at anyone else.

Obviously, she’s way out of Spot’s league, but it’s not like he’s ever let that stop him before. So, before he can talk himself out of it, Spot watches her go, eyes tracking the way she carefully steps over the mismatched cobblestones, how the edges of her skirt ripple with her every movement. She glances over her shoulder once before she turns off of Spot’s street, giving him the chance to see her face one last time.

He should have known then and there that this was a fool’s errand, nothing more. If Spot was smart, he’d forget about this girl, never let her cross his mind more than this one time. Spot’s a street rat, and proud of it, too. This girl’s got money for days, and can probably afford to spend more on a new skirt than Spot makes in a month.

Still, he’s not used to feeling like this, like he’s more than just a pair of hired fists. Spot has spent a long time building up his reputation as the King of Brooklyn, the one boy everyone fears. That reputation comes with a thick skin, a fierceness, a temper that’s quick to fire. The boy Spot lets people believe in wouldn’t look twice at a rich girl like the one he just saw, not unless he saw some sort of angle.

However, the boy Spot can’t seem to hide away is looking at her like she’s a sparkling coin tossed from a banker, his next big shot at living. Even when Spot goes back to the Lodging House that night, she doesn’t leave his mind. Spot knows that the chances of seeing her again are basically nothing, but that doesn’t stop him from looking.

He doesn’t see her, though. Not the next day, not the next, and as the days turn into weeks, Spot has to accept the truth that he’s not going to run into the girl again. He can’t decide whether that’s for the best or not, but it’s the facts, and Spot has always dealt in the cold, hard, realities of life as a boy fighting for a life on the streets of Brooklyn.

Just when Spot’s giving up hope, he sets out on his daily routine to see a familiar face rounding the corner. Spot straightens up, watching the girl slowly walk towards him. At first, he thinks he’s just making things up, but no, it’s really her again. He almost can’t believe it until she glances up and meets his gaze.

The girl seems surprised that he was already looking at her, but Spot can’t seem to break her gaze. She walks the remaining few feet over to him and stands there, expecting.

Spot doesn’t know what to do. He hadn’t really anticipated seeing her again, and certainly not having to engage in conversation. Suddenly, he’s all too aware of the patches in his dark trousers, the scruffiness of his hair, everything that clearly marks him as not coming from her circles.

“Uh, good morning. I’m Spot.”

The girl arches an eyebrow. “I’m Y/N. Can I get a newspaper, please?”

Spot silently berates himself as he reaches in his bag for a pape. He legitimately forgot he was a newsie for a second there, lost in the half smile on the girl’s face as she looks at him. He wants to snap himself out of the haze he’s in, but as long as this girl is here, Spot doesn’t think he’ll have a chance of it.

The girl accepts the paper, handing back the few coins she owes him. She turns and disappears back down the street, but not before murmuring a quiet “Thanks, Spot” before leaving.

Spot is left staring at her, wondering how someone who can soak any thug in a matter of seconds can find himself so tongue-tied when it comes to speaking to a pretty girl. That was his one chance to meet her, and he’s gone and messed it up. Wonderful.

Yet the next morning, he sees her again. It makes no sense, but there Y/N is, walking back towards him. Her voice is a little more confident when she asks for a paper, as if she’s getting more used to him. Spot, to his credit, tries to be a little more professional, although he’s not sure that it matters anymore. All he can do is try not to mess up anymore, and wonder just what he’s supposed to do now that this girl seems to be making his mornings a habit.

One day, about a week and a half into their shaky encounters, Y/N approaches Spot again to buy a newspaper, but this time something is wrong. Spot can tell it by the moment he lays eyes on her, by the way her steps seem shaky and her shoulders are rigid, as if she’s doing her best to not show any signs of weakness. Spot’s used to that sort of thing- when you want to hide how you feel, you force yourself to look twice as tough. It’s what he’d expect from himself, not the carefree Brooklyn princess who’s come by every morning.

Spot should just leave well enough alone, he hardly knows the girl, but he can’t help it. When Y/N finally stops in front of him, he hands her a morning paper, but asks the question he can’t seem to hold back.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?”

She looks startled, but doesn’t entirely deny it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Spot lets out an irritated sigh. “You look like you accidentally lit a building on fire. I haven’t seen someone so upset since one of my boys dropped all his papers down a storm drain.” He pauses. “You haven’t actually lit any buildings on fire, right?”

Y/N laughs, and Spot is instantly hooked on the sound. “No arson, I’m afraid. It’s just-”

She cuts herself off before she can commit. “Nothing. You don’t want to hear about my problems.”

Spot shrugs a little too quickly. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Sometimes, you just gotta talk, right?”

Y/N regards him curiously, but keeps going. “It’s not a big deal, anyway. My parents keep going on about how they want me to be more than I am. They keep hearing from their banker friends and coworkers about how all their daughters are practically perfect, and then they look at me, and they’re disappointed again. They just reminded me about it this morning.”

Spot frowns. “That’s crazy. You’re no disappointment.”

Y/N scoffs. “You’d be surprised. Feels like I can’t do anything right by them.”

Spot shakes his head. “Then don’t listen to them. You’se still you, and their jealousy of other people won’t make any difference. Life is more than just your folks, you know?”

He’d know for certain. He hasn’t seen his own folks in years, much like just about all of the newsies. Still, he feels bad for Y/N. Spot has firsthand experience with judgmental rich people, and they’re awful, even in small quantities. He can’t imagine having to be around them for the entire day, with no break. He’d almost rather stay selling papes than deal with that.

Y/N smiles, the corners of her mouth lopsided. “I appreciate it, Spot. I think I needed to hear that a lot.”

Spot smiles back at her, he can’t help it. “Any time, sweetheart.”

Her eyes glimmer at the nickname, but she leaves him just the same as she does every morning. Still, he got closer than he ever has before. They’ve never really talked about anything more than the usual how-are-yous and yeah-I’m-fines, so this was nice. Man, he’s lost on her. Picture that, the toughest boy in Brooklyn getting hung up over a girl. Still, it’s not like he can help it at all.

It doesn’t go away, though. Y/N keeps showing up, and they keep talking, more and more until Spot can’t entirely remember what life was like without her there in the mornings. Sometimes, when Y/N isn’t busy, she’ll stay with him while Spot sells, casually talking about everything they can think about. It’s pretty close to perfect, or the closest Spot is ever going to get.

The only thing holding him back is the knowledge that this is never going to last. As much as Spot hates to admit it, he knows the truth: Y/N would never be with someone like him. At some point, she’ll get tired of him and leave, because whereas Spot is stuck out here on the streets until he dies, Y/N can go anywhere she wants. He has no idea why she’s choosing to hang around him, but it won’t last forever. He knows it won’t.

Yet she stays. And, one morning, when instead of heading over to him with her usual cheery smile but an irritated frown, Y/N lets Spot pull her over to a quieter part of the street, just inside the mouth of an alley, so they can talk without anyone hearing. He’s grown used to her, how she doesn’t like to complain when people are around.

And he’s right- they’ve barely escaped the public eye when Y/N lets out a frustrated groan and starts talking about what happened yesterday. Apparently, her parents tried to set her up with some wealthy banker’s son, and he’s just started courting her. Y/N is talking about how she can’t stand the guy, but Spot can barely hear her through the rush of blood in his head.

It’s just- this is what he’s always been afraid of, isn’t it? Y/N’s never been destined for a boy like him, and here is the concrete proof. No matter how many times Spot has admitted to himself that he really, really likes Y/N, that all goes away. Y/N will find some charming, dashing billionaire, and that’ll be that. No more and no less.

But he stands there and listens to Y/N, because if he can’t have what his heart truly wants, at least he can be a friend. Spot’s stomach twists, and when Y/N mentions that the boy actually tried to kiss her yesterday when he was walking her home, he feels a bloodthirsty wrath that makes him want to go out and throttle the boy himself.

“Tell me that’s not actually true.”

Y/N just shakes her head. “It is, unfortunately. I pushed him away and he nearly fell down the stairs leading to my door. I wish he had fallen, though. A few broken bones would serve him right.”

The words are said with a savagery that would usually make Spot laugh over how much Y/N sounds like him, but today, he’s just mad.

“What, was he that bad of a kisser?”

Y/N’s gaze is cold as she remembers the night before. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a good kisser or not. I didn’t want to kiss him at all, so he shouldn’t have tried it.”

Spot forces a laugh; it sounds fake, but who cares. “Not at all?”

Y/N glances over at him. She looks almost nervous. “Not in the slightest. There’s someone I’d much rather kiss, but I don’t think he’s even aware of it at all.”

Spot scoffs before he can stop himself. “Of course he��s aware of it. You’se a pretty girl, Y/N, any boy’d be lucky to be within a mile of you.”

The words come out before Spot can shut himself up, and he regrets them almost instantly. They sound a little too much like the truth, which is that Spot is so jealous of this mystery boy for having Y/N’s heart when he has to fight so hard to keep her friendship that he wants to ask who he is, just so Spot can soak the guy himself.

Y/N just laughs, though. “Not this guy. I’ve been trying to tell him for a while, but he never realizes it.”

Spot raises a brow. “Who is it? Maybe he just doesn’t think he’s got a chance.”

Y/N looks at him quietly. “I’m standing right in front of him.”

Oh.

Spot stares at her for several long seconds before he manages to put together enough words to say. “Why? Why me? I’m nowhere near your banker’s sons.”

Y/N laughs, although Spot isn’t entirely sure that he said anything funny. “You’re the only one who listens to me, who sees me as something more than a potential dowry. Do you know how nice it was that first day we really talked? My problems were nothing, and you still made me feel important. I couldn’t get past that if I tried.”

Spot nods slowly. “Can I kiss you, then? There aren’t any stairs for you to push me down, unlike your suitor, but I’m sure you could try if you wanted.”

Y/N smiles, and the sight of it takes Spot’s breath away. “You can. Just because I like you, I won’t even consider pushing you down the stairs.”

Spot laughs, and kisses her before he can convince himself that this is all a dream. It’s better than he could have ever hoped, and it all tells Spot one thing, over and over: maybe he’s got a shot after all.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000

#spot conlon #spot conlon imagines #spot conlon x reader #spot conlon oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #brooklyn newsies oneshot #newsies spot #newsies spot imagines #newsies spot x reader #newsies spot oneshot #newsies spot conlon #newsies spot conlon imagines #newsies spot conlon x reader #newsies spot conlon oneshot

[miryum]

Okay I had an idea for a Spot Conlon x reader!!

Passing out outside his door after getting soaked, Spot finding the reader and taking them inside his room to take care of her.

She/They pronouns of you don’t mind!!

Spot Conlon was anything if not intelligent. He had risen through Brooklyn not only on account of his strength, but his smarts. He had his smarts with him when he became the King of Brooklyn. He had his smarts with him when he upped his paper buying- buying and selling a hundred and fifty papes instead of only one hundred. He had his smarts with him when he beat up the Delancey brothers for harassing one of his newsies.  

However, he may not have had his smarts with him when he agreed to join Jack Kelly’s strike and he definitely didn’t have his smarts with him when he carried in an unconscious girl that appeared on the Lodging House doorstep. 

“Spot?” Knicks ran up to him. “We have a situation- wait. You have something bigger going on.” Knicks noticed the girl in Spot’s arms. “Who’s that?” 

“I don’t know.” Spot pushed past Knicks and the small crowd of newsies that had begun to form. 

“What are you doing? How’d they’d get here? Do you know where Vinny’s hat is?” Knicks started questioning Spot. 

Spot groaned at the boy’s questions and started towards the stairs. “I’m bringing her up to my room to take care of her. I don’t know. I found her on the doorstep. As you can see, she’s beaten up pretty badly. And no, I haven’t seen Vinny’s hat.”

Spot was right. The girl in his arms had been soaked and looked pretty rough. She had a black eye that was a nasty black, purple, and blue. On the other side of their face, another bruise was creeping up their cheekbone. Her lip was split and had a smattering of other cuts and blemishes on their face.

Before Knicks could ask anymore questions, Spot quickly sidestepped him and hurried to his room.

Spot set the teenager down and before exiting the room. He wanted to grab some things to clean them up. Maybe some bandages or ointment? Truth be told, Spot was better at soaking someone than healing them. 

Once he got back with his half-hazard supplies, he found the person sitting up on their elbows. 

“Hello?” Spot looked at her sceptically. Should he trust this random person? 

“Who are you?” The girl asked, trying to sit up further. 

Spot shook his head and said, “Lay back down. What happened to you?” 

“Answer my question.” 

Spot raised an eyebrow. No one ever talked back to him. But, this kid didn’t know he was the King of Brooklyn. He could cut them some slack. “I’m Spot Conlon, newsie, and King of Brooklyn.” 

The girl’s eyes narrowed but she laid down as Spot had asked. “I’m Y/n. I-uh.” They cleared their throat, “The Delancey Brothers got to me. They thought I was stealing something.” 

“Were you stealing something?” Spot asked in a deadpan voice. He wouldn’t be surprised if this dirty street-rat needed to steal to stay alive. He wasn’t about to diss on it, though. He knew all too well about life on the streets. He started cleaning the girl up. 

“Yes.” Y/n admitted. She pulled out a policeman’s whistle, a proud glint in her eye. “It just looked so shiny and I thought I could get some good money for it.” She then squinted at Spot who was cleaning some cuts on her arm, careful for her fresh bruises. “Why’d you take me in? I know newsies are all about loyalty and crap, but I’m not a newsie.” 

Spot huffed a laugh, “Just ‘cause you’re not a newsie doesn’t mean I’d leave you out there. That’s cruel.” 

“You were still taking a gamble. I could knock you out and steal from you right now.” 

This time, Spot laughed for real. “Yeah, sure sweetheart. You could beat me in a fight. And, I don’t know… there was just something about you? I couldn’t imagine you doing anything terrible… Sounds stupid. I know.” 

Y/n hummed. “Alright, Spot Conlon. I trust you.” 

They went to stand but Spot pushed them back down. “That was a bad soaking. You were unconscious. I’m not about to let you waltz out here.” 

Y/n glared at him, “I can take care of myself.”

“From what I just saw, no you can’t.” Spot contradicted. “You’re staying here until you get better.” 

Y/n leaned back on Spot's bed, arms crossed. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me, Spot Conlon.” 

Spot grinned, “I guess I am.”

#spotconlon #spot conlon #spotxreader #spot #spot conlon x reader #newsie #newsies movie #newsies musical #newsboys #brooklyn #brooklyn’s hereeeee #x reader #she/they #jack kelly #crutchie morris #davey jacobs #racetrack higgins #spot conlon imagine #spot conlon oneshot #newsies imagine #newsies #newsies oneshot #new york #delancey brothers #strike #1899 #strike 1899

[kellyscowboy]

꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱MASTERLIST !! ♡  ꒱꒱

any writing that isn't newsies related will be on the account: @eyesintheheat

✦ - ONESHOT || ✹ - MULTI CHAPTER FIC ☀ - FLUFF || ☁ - ANGST

SHIPS I. RELFECTION OF DECEPTION jack kelly's mirror lies to him, and david jacobs would rather take a lifetime of bad luck than let the mirrors continue with their deceitful schemes ↳ JAVID || 823 WORDS || ✦☁ II. BROOKLYN RED in manhattan they'd call it a sin, but race's wearing brooklyn red for him ↳ SPRACE || 1249 WORDS || ✦☀

masterlist updated every time i post any sort of writing

#☄. *. ⋆ vienna's ... masterlist

[hauntedbyvisionsof-flight]

Ms. Claus

Katherine lay in her bed, listening for the footsteps to fade. It was around midnight, and the Pulitzer household was finally settling. The night shift maids were settling down in their rooms, and soon Katherine would strike.

As the clock outside chimed one in the morning, Katherine slipped quietly from her bed. She opened her closet and pulled out the pair of pants and socks she had taken from the pile in the Lodging House. She pulled on a blouse and red overcoat before twisting her hair up and shoving it in a matching cap. Glancing in the mirror she nodded, her identity concealed as long as no one looked at her face.

She grabbed the two brown sacks in her wardrobe, slung them over her shoulders, and stalked towards the window.

After the last fire that destroyed the Pulitzer mansion, Joseph had fire escapes installed at every window, which made it incredibly easy for his children to sneak out. Especially when one made sure to oil the whole thing once a week like Katherine did.

Making sure to leave the window unlocked and slightly cracked, Katherine went on her way. She had no time to waste. Unfortunately, she couldn’t risk being out long enough to go to all the houses, but she did have time for one. The Lodging House.

Katherine walked surely, staring straight ahead. Her sacks bumped against her legs, causing a rhythm and slight discomfort to work their way into her gait. Luckily, she was only a few blocks away from Duane Street.

She made it to the building soon enough. As per tradition, a candle was lit in every window of the building, to guide weary souls home. Katherine knew that a lot of older kids thought it was bullshit and hated lighting them every night, but the little ones believed it would bring Santa to their house.

Most kids knew the truth about Santa, though. It only took a few Christmases with nothing under the tree and an empty stomach to ruin their faith in the immortal being. So tonight, Katherine was giving them a little bit of faith back.

She climbed up the fire escape that Jack used when he came to visit her in the dead of night. Since Davey and Les were staying the night, she’d asked the older to make sure the window was unlocked. He knew about her plan, but no one else. He may have a horrid poker face, but when it came down to it, Davey could keep a secret.

Sure enough, the window was unlocked, and she crawled through with ease. There was a slight thud as her boots hit the floor, and the nearest newsie stirred, but they didn’t wake. Exhaling silently in relief, she hoisted the bags inside and set them gently on the floor.

Taking the packages out one by one, she stacked them under the tree, making sure that the tags were clearly visible. She wished she could tie them to the tree like in her house, but the poor thing was so spindly that she was surprised the popcorn strings didn’t fall off.

Readjusting all the bows, she leaned back and surveyed her work. She straightened a few more things before she stood, satisfied. There was one last thing to do, and then Ms. Claus needed to get back home.

She took a sack in her hand and walked to every bunk in the lodge. Each boy had a sock on the end, for Santa to put some little toys in. Jack and Davey and a few of the older ones had already tried to fill them as best they could, but they were still dreadfully empty compared to hers at home.

Pulling out two items, Katherine went around the room and dropped them in the stockings. A few newsies stirred as she passed, but none woke. When she came upon the bunk Jack and Davey were sharing, she put two of each in Jack’s stocking.

When she finished with all the stockings, she was pleased to notice that there were still quite a few leftover. Smiling, she took out a ribbon and note from her pocket, before tying them together and setting them under the tree.

Still grinning to herself, Katherine slipped out the window and into the night.

~~

She showed up to the Lodging House around eight that morning, wondering how many boys had found their treats yet. It was silent when she entered, which she found quite alarming until she remembered that Christmas was their one day to sleep in. Come to think of it, she didn’t think the bell had even tolled that morning.

Kloppman wasn’t even at his desk as she passed, climbing the stairs to where the boys slept. She opened the door and giggled when she saw them all still asleep. When she stepped forward, the door slammed behind her and she winced. A few boys sat straight up in bed, clearly a conditioned response to avoid Kloppman’s bizarre wake-up strategies.

“Hey! Kath’s here!” Elmer called, scrambling out of bed. A few other boys greeted her, and slowly the lodge began to come alive.

Smalls was the first to notice. “Guys! Our stockings!” She grabbed hers from where it was stuck to her bed and quickly upended it to see what was in it.

“Holy shit!” Race yelled. “There’s a whole motherfuckin’ orange in here!”

Jack came up and cuffed him on the head. “Not in front of the kids, Racer.”

Race grumbled an apology before peeling the orange in front of him.

“What’s in this package?” someone called.

“A cake, I think?” someone called back.

Soon it was a cacophony of noise as the newsies tore apart their stockings to get to the treats that many of them could never afford.

“Guys! The tree!” Buttons yelled.

Heads whipped around in fear, obviously expecting the tree to be on fire or something. However, their looks of fear quickly turned to those of delight as they clambered forward to investigate the gifts. Katherine leaned against the doorway and smiled as they handed out packages to each other. They were all wrapped in brightly coloured paper and ribbons, which the newsies appreciated for about twenty seconds before tearing it off to get at the substance beneath.

They oo’d and ahh’d at their new clothing, books, and toys. She had tried to get them one useful thing, and one thing to play with, and it seemed that they all appreciated it.

“Who’s all these from?” Race asked, scanning the room. One by one they all shrugged, nobody owning up to it.

“Why don’t ya read the tag?” Davey sat on Jack’s bed, taking a bite out of his orange.

“From: Santa,” Race read. “But -”

“I told ya Santa was real!” Peanuts shouted, shoving at Sniper. Sniper caught his wrists and the two began wrestling. The other kids moved their presents out of the way.

“So. Santa, eh?” Jack’s arm wrapped around her middle and pulled her close.

“Mmm hmm,” she agreed. “It’s a Christmas miracle. Guess he heard about the strike and wanted to reward the kids for being so good.”

“Must be it,” Jack grinned. “So what are you doin’ over here, Ms. Plumber?”

“Told my family I was taking a walk. We won’t open presents for another hour anyway, have to wait for Ralph and Petunia and our grandparents to make it over. Honestly, Father is probably only now settling down to take his coffee.”

“Should ya scoot, then?”

She hummed. “In a minute.”

Les bounded up to them just then, wrapping his arms around Katherine’s waist. “Hiya, Kath! Didya see what Santa brought me? I ain’t even Christian but he still brought me something!”

Katherine laughed. “Did he?”

“Yeah! I got new boot laces, and a book, and a little wooden duck! It’s great!”

“Maybe Santa wanted to reward you for being so good during the strike this summer. Y’know, I think you being so intimidatin’ was the real reason my father backed down.”

Les’ eyes shone. “Ya think so?”

“Yep!” Kath ruffled his hair. “Why don’t you go see what Tommy Boy got. I think he’s itchin’ to show you.”

With that, Les scampered off, nearly colliding with Davey as he walked over. Davey scolded him, but it was lost in the din of the room and he merely grinned to himself as he continued over.

“Why hello, Ms. Plumber. I’m delighted to see you arrived in time for our Christmas miracle,” Davey greeted, sharing a knowing look.

“Indeed I did,” Katherine replied, smirking.

Jack looked back and forth between them. “Did I miss something?”

“Not at all,” Davey spoke.

Jack looked down at the sack enclosed in his fist. He had grabbed it before the naughtier kids could, and was holding it until the kids who didn’t sleep at the Lodging House would meet up with them after lunch. The tag was written in beautiful and very familiar cursive.

Jack studied the tag as Davey and Katherine shared mirthful glances, silently laughing to themselves as Jack pieced it together.

“You-” he pointed at Kath. “And you-” at Davey, “were in this together? Is that why you were so concerned with making sure the window was ‘locked?’ And why you grinned so hard when you saw that red coat in the store last week?”

Kath and Davey glanced at each other before collapsing into giggles. Jack’s confusion slowly turned into delight as he grinned at his two best friends.

“You’se real smooth, Plumber, I’ll give ya that.”

“Thanks, Jack.” She pressed a quick peck to his lips. “I should be going though. See you around three?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he grinned back, waving as she left the door as silently as last night. Come to think of it, this also explained why she’d been so good at sneaking lately.

“Hey, Jack.” Boots pulled at Jack’s vest. “I saw someone in a red coat last night, but I t’ought it was a dream. D’ya reckon it was Santa?”

Jack glanced at the unlocked window across the room. “Y’know what, kid? I betcha it was.”

Tag List: (if you want to be added, reply or shoot me an ask!)

@minikker02

@newsieofnj

@nymphadoratonksx

@races-cigar

@rebecko

@thesmallestbits

@stuckinmyneverendingheadspace

@sparkleystallion

@thatshiscigar

@actually-races-erster​

@albertdasilva

@alixismad

@anna-exe

@ben-cook-can-cook

@thebookofbella

@broadwayandbookblog

@cattt420

@bwaysrose

@daeynore

@daveys-pet-snake

@delanceys-pantsies

@elmers-half-a-cup

@esyazzmean

@fandomscraziness22

@heytheywascoronas

@ishouldprobablyworkoutmore

@i-got-personality

@mcoomcoo

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies live #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #jack kelly #davey jacobs #les jacobs #racetrack higgins #race higgins #broadway #broadway fanfiction #fanfiction #grace writes #brooklyn writes #christmas #christmas oneshot

[companionjones]

Newsies Masterlist

  *Jack Kelly*

Newsies Rewrite Companion Jones Style

Alright, We Gotta Buy Some Time ~ ☁️The Newsies do as the title suggests to help Jack out.

The Favor ~ ☔️Jack Kelly x reader where the reader gets roughed up bad by Brooklyn Newsies and doesn’t tell jack who did it but since she’s his number two, they need to go to Brooklyn on business and they run into the Newsies who beat up and she gets nervous and jack gets protective?

In The Penthouse ~ 📬☁️You are relatively rich, and Jack is your repairman. You two have had feelings for each other for years.

Long/Short Distance Relationship ~ 📚Every year that you’re in high school, you go on a field trip to New York City. On every one of those one-day trips, you meet a boy named Jack Kelly. The two of you fall in love.

  *Spot Conlon*

Worth It ~ 📬☁️Could I please request a Spot Conlon oneshot where the reader goes behind his back to join the Manhattan newsies with the strike, before the brooklyn newsies agreed to help, but then spot finds out when he sees the reader arrive home late and with like, injuries or something. Then they fight and spot lets it slip that he likes her and only wants to protect her and fluff ensues.

#newsies masterlist

[enter-a-newsies-obsession]

Dark Alleys and Dark Bruises- Javid

Helllloooo!!! I haven’t posted a Javid oneshot for awhile so here you go! (also on Wattpad: Forbidden Thoughts~Javid Oneshots)

TW: blood, homophobia, use of f****t, angst (with happy ending!!)

The dirty puddles twinkled in the soft lamplight as Jack Kelly's footsteps disturbed them. He watched the ripples disappear into the edges, humming with slight interest. Leaning on the wall beside him, Jack looked up at the few stars that he could see through the clouds.

That kid's really killin' me, he thought bitterly. Again, his mind landed on a subject that he could never escape: David Jacobs.

Jack was on the way back to the Lodge from walking Davey and Les to their home, "It's dangerous out these days," was the only excuse he could muster, trying to hide the fact he just wanted more time with Davey.

Now, as Jack stood alone, he looked glumly around. Everything here could only remain him of Davey- the grimy pavement as dark as the boys hair, the soft lamplight as tender as his cheek, hidden alleyways where Jack would fantasise pulling him into, the twinkling stars matching his shining eyes.

Jack shook his head angrily.

He pushed off the wall and stuffed his hands roughly in his pockets. Girls, boys, he loved them both. Too bad none but the newsies really liked that.

So caught up in his thoughts as he was, Jack didn't see the two shadows slither up  behind him.

A voice dripped in sarcasm drifted out from the darkness as Jack froze in his tracks.

"Oi! What'd we's have here now? That the famous Jack Kelly, is it?"

Oscar and Morris Delancey scuffled out from behind him. Jack sighed loudly, turning back with a fake, smug smile and threw his hands up.

"Oscar, Morris. What cha doing down in these parts, shouldn't yer be crawlin' 'round by someone else's feet at this time of night?"

Oh, they didn't like that comment.

Their smiles faded and clean shaven jaw clenched.

"We's was just passin' by 'til we saw ya round 'ere alone." Oscar spat, cracked his knuckles and advanced. Jack tried to stand his ground but when Oscars hot and mucky breath washed over his cold face, he clenched his fists and stepped back.

"My fists have been aching without anything to punch-" before Jack could respond, Morris took a swing at him, but he dodged it with a gulp. What were they playing at? What did they want?

"Oi, where's yer little boyfriend, aye Kelly? Davey was it?"

Ah, so that's what they wanted.

"Don't have a boyfriend," Jack shrugged, "What, you offering Morris?"

Morris growled and pushed him roughly into an empty alley way. Jack, who hadn't prepared to be pushed, fell violently onto his back, hitting his head on the pavement. Before he could get up, Oscar dug his heel into his chest and forced him back down.

He leaned over him, "Come on Jaaaack, you can tell us if yer a dirty homosexual. We's won't tell."

Jack struggled against his foot and attempted to push him off.

"I ain't gonna. An' if I were, I don't  appreciate yer callin' us dirty."

Oscar let Jack scramble up to stand, then kicked him in the stomach, winding him and making him double over in a vulnerable position where they could sock him right in the jaw.

"We's ain't stupid," Morris growled, "You're a disgusting f****t, we've seen the way you and that Davey kid look at each other."

Jack coughed up bright red blood onto the grimy pavement.

"Burn in hell." He snarled.

They leaned forward, "Oh, we won't be the only ones, Queer."

Before another breath could be taken, they started kicking him down, punching him in the jaw, bruising his ribs, cutting his head until it bled on the ground, spitting on his face.

Then, they left him in the cold, bleeding and bruised, hardly able to sit up, slurs echoing through his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where's Jack?" Les whined, looking around at the Newsies Square. Davey's smile flattered but he straightened up to pat his brother reassuringly on his head.

"He'll be here."

A minute passed, then five, then fifteen.

Crutchie hobbled over to them.

"You's seen Jack this mornin'?"

Davey's brow furrowed and shook his head. "No. Didn't he come back last night?"

It was Crutchies turn to shake his head.

Davey looked around anxiously, "He wouldn't have gone to Brooklyn or Queens or somethin'?"

Crutchie looked around as if he would sense him. "Nah, he woulda told one a us," he frowned. "Or you's guys," he added.

Worry started to tease at the edge off Davey's mind. Jack was strong. He would be fine.

If he's strong he would've made it back by now, Daveys brain argued.

  Okay, now his mind was full of fear of every single bad thing that could happen to a Newsies around these parts- especially in the middle of the night when Jack had left.

Racer- who had previous joined the conversation- laid a reassuring hand on David's shoulder, "Aye..... Aye Dave what ya worrying about? It's gonna be-"

"I'm gonna go look for 'em," Davey snapped, turning sharply away before giving Les the money and waving a quick goodbye for now. After a nod from Crutchie, Racetrack went with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been following the route back to Davey's apartment for a while now, checking each dark alley, each shop window, each side street, just for a small glimpse of where Jack was.

Davey had started panicking when they had gone almost half an hour without a clue, taking off his hat to run his clammy fingers through his dark hair.

"I really dunno," Race sighed, kicking a stick on the road into the alleyway next to them, "he could be anywhere by now, Davey, I-"

There was a groan from the alleyway. Race and David froze.

"What was that....?" Davey half-heartily whispered as Race was already approaching the dark clump .

"Err.....Dave, you better come 'ere quick..."

Davey ran. Then, just as fast, he froze..

Davey found it hard to believe that Jack Kelly- one of the strongest leaders Dave knew, the hard muscled boy with an equally quick witted come back always ready, the boy who never flinched in the way of danger- was the same boy who curled and flinched as Dave put a trembling hand to his shoulder.

"Jack?" He didn't respond as Davey crouched beside him, next to Race, "Hey Jackie?"

"...Dave?"

The voice that whispered was hoarse and cold, nothing like the Jack Dave knew. His head lolled towards where Davey's voice came from. His fingers were crusted with old blood, his face was covered in darkening bruises and an angled nose was red and dried, but through the pain he was still able to reach towards his Dave.

"Hey Jack, it's gonna be okay, it'll be okay, just wait," Dave leaned down to wrap his finger around Jacks, whispering soft assurances. As soon as he had finished he whipped his head up to Race and hissed instructions.

"Racetrack we're getting Jack back to my house."

Race looked between them and opened his mouth to say something.

"Now."

Race, suddenly extremely scared of David, jumped up to push Jack up to sitting.

"Slowly!"

Race flinched.

Jack moaned in pain as he was forced up. Davey reached forward to caress gently at one of Jacks bigger bruises on his face, and held his head when Jack nuzzled into his soft, warm hand.

"It'll be okay..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After helping (well, more precisely, dragging) Jack back to Davey's apartment Race went back to Newsies Square to tell the others what happened. He could only gesture a quick goodbye through the fussing of David's mother.

"Is this the Jack Kelly you've been talking so much about? I can help- if you need. I....I can...Help clean the wounds- oh I'll go make something hot! How 'bout I-"

"I can do it, Ma," Davey interrupted his mother, smiling softly afterward. Jack was currently asleep on Davey's bed, words and movements too hard on his body at the moment. David's mother insisted on helping.

"I can handle it, Ma, I swear. I... actually, when I think about it, can you get me a cloth and some water?"

"Of course!"

That would occupy her for a bit.

Letting out a breath, Davey moved over to where Jack was laid, sleeping peacefully, and sat at his feet.

Dave's mother came in to give her son the rag and water, then, after Davey asked her to close the door on her way out, left hesitantly.

Then they were alone.

The resting boy grunted softly in his dream. Dampening the cloth, Davey pressed it against Jacks forehead.

It went on like that for quite some time, and even though it was lonely, Dave enjoyed watching Jack's chest gently rise and fall with each of his quiet breaths, no pain or stress currently weighing it down.

When it came to unbuttoning Jacks vest to reveal his bare chest to clean the wounds underneath, Davey did it hesitantly and slowly.

Jack would understand, wouldn't he? Yeah...yeah.

~

A sudden coldness and sticky pain was what woke him. Jack stirred slightly, peeling open his heavy eyelids to squint at the hazy silhouette of a beautiful boy.

He looked to the side and Jack made out the curve of a nose through the shining light which shone behind the boy he stared at.

An angel?

Jack blinked the sand out of his eyes and grunted gingerly, moving his arms under him to lift himself up.

Davey turned. "Oh! Hey Jackie, how ya feeling?" He whispered, the edges of his lips curling in both happiness and worry.

"Aye, er," he winced as he moved his ribs, "could be better, i think."

Davey didn't like seeing Jack in pain, so he made a practiced move to help him sit up and positioned the pillow so he could rest on it.

Jack looked down at his open shirt, took one glance at a blushed Davey, and said nothing about it.

"So..." Davey whispered, "What happened? Who did it, 'cuz I'll go soak 'em right now if I have to, I'll knock some bloody sense inter 'em, you don't mess with Jack Kelly and get away with it-"

"Nah, nah, Davey don't do that it's fine." Davey huffed out a breath. Jack smirked as he watched him wrestle his thoughts and eventually- and angrily might I add- brought the cloth back up to a wound on Jacks cheek that had already been cleaned.

The silence stretched out for longer than what was comfortable.

"It was the Delancey's..." Jack muttered after awhile.

Davey gritted his teeth.

"They's were just pickin' on me, that's all." Jack could tell Dave didn't bye it. He didn't meet his eye, but the pause in his cleaning told a tale.

"What did they say?" David hissed, finally bringing back his hand and looking Jack in his beautifully dark eyes. Jack looked away.

"Theys....nothin'.....it was nothin' Dave..."

"It was not nothing, Jack, don't lie to me, I found you lying in an alley, hardly bloody conscious!"

Jack blinked. He hadn't heard Davey this angry since the strike.

"I....Fine.....T.....Theys were callin' me slurs. Sayin' I should die for being.....for liking boys like I do...." Jack looked away again.

David froze. Then he started to move, eyes cold as he pushed off the bed. But Jack caught his arm- trying to hide his flinch at the sudden movement.

"Davey....David, don't. Yer won't do no good, ya just get yourself beat up too."

"Well if that's what it takes-"

"Davey. P....Please just stay 'ere."

Dave sat back down, somewhat sad and reluctant, and they sat in silence for a time.

"You's don't deserve to die, Jack. Don't let them get to you."

Looking up slowly, Jack smiled- the kind of smile he would normally hide, or the one he wore while blushing. Then, he reached towards Dave's hand.

"Thanks, Dave, ya really are a....pal."

Davey focused his gaze intently on the floorboards, lips frowned, opened, closed, blew out a laboured breath. Previously furrowed brows deepened further.

Chuckling hurt, but Jack thought it was worth it. Reaching up to rest his hand on Dave's jaw, he sat up slightly further. He turned the boys face toward him.

They looked at each other tenderly, taking in each feature and strand of hair they were both so in love with.

Then, Davey leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Jacks forehead, smiling against his skin.

He pulled back and Jack instantly grabbed his waist and pulled him in for a long needed hug.

#javid #angst with comfort #angst with a happy ending #javey #davey jacobs #jack x davey #newsies #newsies are hella gay prove me wrong #newsies fanfiction #Jack Kelly #the Delaneys #:))) this is fine