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miryum · 1 year

Text

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.”

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miryum · 2 years

Text

It’s After Five (Spot Conlon x Reader)

Lena poked Y/n in the ribs. Y/n rolled over to find Lena standing over her, grinning. Y/n let out a yelp and quickly sat up.

“What the hell!” The girl cried.

“Wake up! The bell’s about to ring.” Lena dragged Y/n out of bed and through her morning routine.

“Did ya sleep in again, Y/n/n?” Blink snickered as he passed.

“Yeah, she did.” Lena grumbled.

Y/n splashed water on her face in hopes of waking up. “Go away, Blink.”

“Love ya too!” Blink saluted the two girls and sped out of the room.

Lena and Y/n had become close friends after Lena joined the newsies three years ago. Y/n had been with the Manhattan newsies since she was little, but Lena only joined because her family needed a little more money. Before Lena had come, Y/n was the only girl newsie in Manhattan. She was very thankful that Lena had decided to join.

“Can we sell by the Brooklyn Bridge today?” Y/n asked as they walked to the circulation desk.

“Why?” Lena scoffed, “So you can possibly see the faint outline of Spit Conlon across the horizon?”

Y/n grumbled, “It’s Spot. And no! It’s a good selling point. Lots of people come back and forth. There’s foot traffic.”

“Yeah… right.” Lena squinted at Y/n. She bought her papes and then let Y/n buy hers. “You know you only saw the guy once, right?”

“Yeah.” The only time she had seen Spot was at Jack’s rally for the strike a year ago. Y/n was up on the stage with Lena, right by Jack. Spot had soon joined them and gave a small speech. Y/n had avoided eye contact the entire time.

After the rally, Spot had come up to Y/n and Lena to introduce himself. “Pleasure meeting you goils.” Y/n remembered that day very clearly. Spot had smirked and winked in their direction.

“You’se blushing.” Lena had told her bluntly afterwards.

“He’s cute!” Y/n had protested.

“Hm, decent headline.” Lena said, looking over the papes they had purchased. “Riots in New Orleans.”

“You hardly have to twist that.” Y/n joked, knowing full well that at the end of the day Lena and herself would be yelling something closer to thousands dead in New Orleans.

Lena sighed, looking over at her friend. “Fine. I guess we can sell by the Bridge. If we sell enough, I’ll even humour you by walking cross it.”

“Really?” Y/n’s eyebrows shot upward. “What’s the catch?”

Lena laughed, “No catch. I like playing matchmaker every once in a while. Though we probably should tell Jack just in case we end up gettin’ soaked and dumped in an alley somewhere.”

“Can we’s tell Race?” Y/n negotiated, worried Jack would forbid them from going.

“Davey.”

“That’s worse. Crutchie?”

“Deal.”

The girls saddled up next to Crutchie who was talking to Romeo and Albert. “Hey goils!” He smiled, “What can I do for you this fine morning?”

“We’re going to be selling by the Brooklyn Bridge.” Lena said, “We’re trying to fuel Y/n crush.”

“Oooo.” Romeo teased, “You got a crush on a Brooklyn Boy? Bad idea. They’s awful!” He waved a hand in front of his nose, miming a disgusting smell. “Who is it?”

“Spot Conlon.” Lena said before Y/n could protest. Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Romeo and Albert hooted and ‘oooo’ed while Crutchie looked worried. “Spot Conlon?” He asked, “Ya sure? That’s… that’s a bad idea. He’s not good news. But, sure. If ya wanna, you can sell there. Just… be careful. If you’re not back by five, I’ma tell Jack and we’ll come look for you two.”

“Great!” Lena dragged Y/n out to the streets, the latter still groaning in embarrassment.

With the semi-decent headline, the girls sold their papes by four o’clock, collecting a good profit.

Y/n saved one pape to read herself, something she had been doing since she became a newsie. “Remember the Paris train that opened a couple days ago? It’s been getting a lot of attention and customers.” She commented lazily as they slowly crossed the Bridge. Lena threw rocks into the river below.

“Cool. I guess.” Lena shrugged.

“Where should we go?” Y/n folded the pape and shoved it in her pocket.

“Well, you wanna see Spot, right?” Lena asked, “We could go down to the docks and see if they’re swimming there.”

“I could go for a swim. It’s a hot day.” Y/n agreed, ignoring the comment about Spot.

“Great.” Lena took the steep, rocky path down to the docks below the Bridge. Y/n followed, making sure Lena didn’t step somewhere unstable and fall.

The docks came into view, boys lounging around or swimming. Some noticed the girls then started to alert the others. By the time Lena and Y/n stood at the end of the dock, the boys were all watching them apprehensively. Some were standing, arms over chest, others were still in the water, hanging onto the dock and staring down the girls. It was obvious the girls were not from Brooklyn, and it was odd enough they were girls in newsie clothing.

“Hey.” Lena gave a quick, tense smile, raising a hand in greeting.

“And what do you goils want?” A boy spoke up. “You’re on Brooklyn turf. So whether you realise that or not, ya need to scram.”

“We just wanna swim.” Y/n said, meeting his glare. “Is that a crime? Not many good rivers in Manhattan. And it’s called the East River, not the Brooklyn River.”

“He’s not even here.” Lena muttered to Y/n out of the corner of her mouth. “Are we sure we wanna risk a soaking?”

“Are we sure you can back down from this?” Y/n met her question, asking about Lena’s infamous need to hold grudges and never back down from a fight.

“Touché.”

“This is still Brooklyn.” The same boy cut into their conversation. “Go back to Manhattan or whatever inferior turf ya’re from.”

“I’m surprised ya know the word inferior.” Y/n chuckled.

“I also know some other words:” the boy cracked his knuckles, “beating you up.”

“Now, boys,” a new, cocky voice interrupted, “is that how we treat guests? Especially these lovely goils?”

Lena grinned and nudged Y/n in the side. Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to conceal how her heart sped up at the familiar voice.

A boy appeared out of nowhere, jumping down from a pile of crates. His pimp cane tapped on the wood, his slingshot resting at his side. His smirk was wide and knowing, his cap slung over his dirty blond hair.

Spot Conlon.

“From the rally, right?” He stopped in front of the girls, making a motion with his hand that dispersed his newsies. “Pleasure to meet ya again.” Lena scoffed, breaking the intense eye contact Spot was giving Y/n. Spot spit- shook Lena then bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss to Y/n’s knuckles. He glanced up at Y/n who was staring down at him, a heavy blush dusting her cheeks.

“What brings you to our Brooklyn?” Spot asked, leading the two friends away from the docks and into the depths of the city.

“Was finished selling,” Lena said, “Wanted to explore a bit.” She noticed Spot was only looking at Y/n. Y/n was staring at the ground.

“No other reason?” Spot questioned, brushing a hand against Y/n’s. Shockwaves of lightning sped up both their arms. Spot controlled his breathing.

Lena stayed silent, hoping Y/n would take the reins in the conversation. “It’s such a lovely day,” Y/n finally said, “We thought we could go swimming or something?”

“An’ ya couldn’t do that on your side of the river?” Spot continued to poke and prod at Y/n’s answers.

“We heard that Brooklyn was better.” Y/n glanced over at Lena, who looked aghast that she would suggest Brooklyn was better than Manhattan.

“Well, ya got that right.” Spot let out a small laugh. He stopped at the Brooklyn Lodging House. It loomed over Y/n and Lena, who were cautious to go in. Who knows what could happen in there? Lena looked at the sky, noticing the sun starting to go down. However, once Spot opened the door for them and Y/n stepped through, she had no choice but to follow.

Inside, boys were scattered around, sitting on couches or the floor. Some were huddled around a table, engaged in a game of cards. Lena’s eyes lit up when she saw that. “I’ma gonna go join that. See if I can swindle some Brooklyn Boys outta their money.” She sped off, leaving Y/n and Spot alone.

Spot smirked his famous smirk and gestured to the stairs. “I can give you a tour?”

“Sure.”

Spot showed Y/n all around the Brooklyn Lodging House, even the very cramped places where they had to squeeze together. The last stop of the tour was Spot’s office. It had originally been a small room, but Spot has shaped it up. It now had a desk that faced the door, two chairs, and a stack of newspapers. The top newspaper was the one that displayed the newsies on the front page. Y/n could see a small, black and white Spot beaming up at her from the pape.

“I remember that day.” Y/n said quietly, picking up the newspaper.

“An’ I remember you from that day.” Spot countered, coming up behind her and looking down at the pape. Y/n was now painfully aware of the places where he was touching her. His chest was pressed to her back, his arm grazing hers, and his breath on her neck.

“I don’t think we met that day, did we?”

“No, but I saw you at the restaurant. You were talkin’ to some of your buddies. I remember thinking that yous were the most beautiful goil I ever saw. I wanted to talk to ya, but didn’t have the courage.”

Y/n turned to stare at him. “The great Spot Conlon didn’t have courage?” She dramatically gasped. “I wasn’t sure that was possible.

Spot chuckled. “Even I get cold feet every once in a while.”

Y/n started to step away but Spot caught her elbow. He pulled her back towards him. Y/n cleared her throat and began, “The real reason I dragged Lena to Brooklyn today i-is because I wanted to see you. You know, we haven’t seen each other since the strike and… yeah. I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve never been more flattered.” Spot pressed a hand on the small of her back, pulling Y/n flush against him.

His eyes sparked with something. Maybe a mix of cheekiness, hope, and arrogance. Y/n wasn’t really sure.

Suddenly, a loud commotion could be heard from downstairs.

“The hell?” Spot huffed, reluctantly pulling away from Y/n and rushing down to the main floor. Y/n hurried after him and the sight they saw was enough to frighten the girl.

A hoard of Manhattan newsies were piled through the door, yelling and pushing the Brooklyn newsies. The Brooklyn newsies were retaliating, screaming and shoving back. Lena stood in the centre of it all, looking around helplessly. She caught sight of Y/n and Spot at the top of the stairs and tried to yell over the din, “It’s after five! Crutchie told Jack! Then Jack was stupid and did this.” She gestured around to the room.

Spot muttered profanities, looking tired enough to collapse. Instead, he steeled himself and whacked his cane against a window frame, the metal clashing against one another. “Enough!” He yelled, the scream silencing the room. His glare penetrated both Brooklyn and Manhattan newsies alike.

“Y/n!” Jack exclaimed, catching sight of you. You shrunk back, running a hand over your face. Why did he always have to blow things out of proportion?

“What in god’s name are you Manhattan newsies doing here?” Spot growled, marching down the steps until he was face to face with Jack. Spot poked him in the chest with his pimp cane, forcing him back.

“We came to make sure you hadn’t beaten up two of our newsies.” Jack snarled right back.

“But they didn’t!” Lena chuckled nervously, “We’re fine! Look, I even got some dough outta it!” She reached into her pockets and pulled out a handful of coins she had gambled for.

“Then why weren’t you back by five? Why are ya in Brooklyn of all places? And why were you upstairs with Spot?” The last question was directed to Y/n.

“We told Crutchie where we were going.” Y/n mumbled.

“And he agreed that if you weren’t back by five, we’d come lookin’ for ya. So we did. This isn’t our fault, Conlon.” Jack said.

“They’re right. It’s our fault.” Y/n agreed, stepping down to take her place by Jack.

“Hey-” Spot reached for her desperately but once he remembered there were others in the room, he retracted and put his mask back on. “Fine. Go back to ‘Hattan then. But nothing bad was happenin’ to them here. Lena was playin’ cards and Y/n and I’se were just talkin’.”

“‘Bout what?” Jack demanded.

“None of your business, Kelly.” Spot said smoothly. “It’s not my fault my boys were about to protect themselves.” He scanned the room, looking over newsies. “If this happens again, there will be consequences. Next time, come here with only a couple newsies- not every single one in ‘Hattan. If the goils aren’t here, we’ll help ya look for ‘em.”

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” Jack took a step towards Spot.

Spot stepped up to meet him. “I do.” His mouth twisted into a snarl. “’Cause there are no rules in this here Brooklyn. The minute those goils pass our Bridge, they're in my turf. And I say they can come over anytime they want. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Y/n and I have a conversation ta finish. Lena can go with you now. One of your newsies may wait until Y/n and I are done, but I will be walkin’ her back.”

And with that, Spot brushed Y/n back upstairs to his office. He sat down heavily in his chair and she sat opposite of him.

“Thanks.” She whispered, “For standin’ up for me and Lena. It was nice of you to do that for us.”

Spot’s smirk returned. “I’se wasn’t just doin’ that for you. I wanna see you more too. If you can come and go as you please, this’ll make this whole dating thing easier.”

“Dating?” Y/n’s breathing turned quicker.

Spot’s smirk widened. “‘Course. Unless… you don’t wanna date me?” Though his words were confident and sure, there was a layer of worry in them. Was he reading the signs wrong? Was Y/n going to reject him? Was he going to make a fool of himself?

“No, I do.” Y/n smiled widely. “It’s just, we haven’t known each other that long, and I wasn’t sure you liked me back.”

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Spot's confidence was back. “We’ve known each other for a year!”

“I guess that’s true!” Y/n laughed lightly.

“And yeah, I like you back. Ya know, at the restaurant? I saw you laughin’ along with Lena and playin’ with the younger kids. You seemed really nice. And don’t think I’se didn’t notice that pape in your back pocket. You read them everyday, don’t you? Bet you’re smart.”

“Does this mean I get to come to see you whenever?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah. I can’t not see my goil everyday.”

“And does this mean I get to kiss you?”

“‘Course. Though, why don’t we wait until your newsies aren’t downstairs.”

“Understandable.” Y/n chuckled.

“Let’s get you home.” Spot stood and offered his hand. Y/n took it and they headed downstairs. Outside, Y/n could see Mush and JoJo standing under a street lamp, making sure Y/n got home safely.

Spot rolled his eyes, “Thought I said only one newsie.”

“Don’t blame them. Jack just wants to make sure I’m safe.”

“You’re safe with me.” Spot protested.

The over-protectiveness Spot was showing made Y/n smile and duck her face. Instead, Spot cupped her chin and made her look up. “There’s that pretty face.” He nodded once.

Soon, they were at the Brooklyn Bridge. Spot walked her across it, Mush and JoJo trailing them. Once they got to the end of the Bridge, Spot stopped.

“Well, this is as far as I can take ya. Goodnight doll.”

“‘Night Spot.”

“Alright,” Mush came up next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, “time ta go.”

Spot scowled at Mush but didn’t speak.

“You’re always welcome in Brooklyn.” Spot tipped his cap to Y/n, turning and starting to walk back to Brooklyn.

“Spot!” Y/n called, darting to stop him. “Wait.” Y/n quickly pecked him on the cheek, a short and sweet kiss. “Same time tomorrow?” She asked.

“Anything for you, doll.”

Y/n waved and raced back to her friends. JoJo bumped shoulders with her and Mush rubbed a fist over her hair, mussing it up.

Spot turned back to Brooklyn. He was certainly whipped for this girl.

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