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youaintnothinbuta · 5 months

Note

Hi, love your writing

I would love to see more Jack Kelly images and little bulbs, fluff, smut literally anything.

Maybe one where reader and Jack just spent time cuddling in jacks penthouse, trying to hide from the other boys cus they keep tease them.

“they won't find us in here” — jack kelly x reader

Summary: you and Jack are hiding away in his room, trying to have a little cuddle, which the other boys always like to make the centre of their amusement

Pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

Word count: 556

Warnings: none, fluff, maybe typos if so sorryyy <3

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The dingy light of the Lodging House barely reached Jack's room, casting a warm, golden glow on the worn-out furniture and scattered newspapers and clothes. You and Jack, seeking a quiet escape from the high energy of the other newsies, found solace in his bedroom. The laughter and banter of the other boys still echoed through the air, but Jack had expertly tucked the two of you away, hidden from their teasing eyes.

As you settled into the cozy space, Jack draped an extra blanket over his bed, creating a makeshift nest. The soft sounds of hushed laughter and the muffled chatter of the boys outside filtered through, creating a comforting background noise.

Jack motioned for you to join him on the bed. “They won't find us in here,” he whispered with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You couldn't help but giggle, realising the absurdity of the situation. "Is this really how much effort it takes, just for us to have some cuddle time?" you teased.

Jack chuckled, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. "I wouldn’t say this is a lot of effort- they're just nosy."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you nestled into the blankets beside him. Jack pulled you into a warm embrace, the scent of newsprint and a hint of cologne enveloping you. The soft touch of Jack's fingers traced patterns on your back, a rhythmic motion that seemed to synchronise with the beat of your hearts. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but agree.

As you rested against him, the teasing banter of the boys outside became more audible. The distinctive voices of Race, Albert, and the others echoed in the hallway, their comments gradually becoming more pointed.

“Where's Jack?”

“Probably off being bottle fed!”

“Whispering sweet nothings I bet.”

“Can't believe he turns into a softie around a girl.”

Jack, his brows furrowing, shot you an apologetic look. “Sorry about them. They're relentless.”

You laughed. “Hey, I’m not the one they’re insulting. They just don't get to see this side of you often."

He smiled, the warmth in his eyes deepening. “You're right. It's our little secret.”

Jack's fingers idly played with a strand of your hair, continuing their gentle caress. The quietude of the room invited a sense of relaxation, your words slipped out almost as a murmur.

“You’re so comfy. I could just fall asleep.”

He grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You can do that, sweetheart.”

With a sigh of contentment, you allowed the gentle embrace of sleep to envelop you, feeling the rise and fall of Jack’s chest as he held you. Jack listened to the fading banter with a mix of amusement and exasperation. As the night unfolded, Jack carefully adjusted the blankets around you, ensuring your comfort. The usual mischievous glint in his eyes instead softened into a tender gaze as he watched you sleep peacefully.

The creak of the door signaled the return of the newsies, their laughter now reduced to tired murmurs. Jack, ever protective, shot a warning glance at the doorway, silently urging them to keep their distance. The boys, catching on to Jack’s mood, exchanged knowing looks and dispersed, respecting the unspoken boundary around Jack’s room. Eventually, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep too.

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apollo-markus-i-am · 10 months

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Okay not to hate on Mush Meyers from the 1992 Newsies or anything but HOW COME FANFIC WRITERS ARE SLEEPING ON MY BOY MUSH FROM THE BROADWAY MUSICAL?

I mean

He’s so

I love him please please please SOMEONE WRITE SOMETHING FOR HIM I’M BEGGIN YA

#newsies #broadway newsies #broadway #mush newsies #mush meyers #davey newsies #newsies imagines #pleasewritesomethingforhim #jack kelly #1992sies

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cryingevanafton · 4 months

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In the modern era, tell me Race wouldn't be one of those people who just build complicated lego sets 24/7

#then spot be like: 'wtf race'#newsies #racetrack higgins #jack kelly #davey jacobs #spot conlon #racetrack newsies #david jacobs #sprace #newsies broadway #newsies imagines

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sl-newsie · 1 year

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Crush: what do I gotta do to make you like me?

Me: talk in a New York accent!

Crush: *huffs* really?

Me: *glares intensely* really

Me: p.s. you get extra credit if you dress like a Newsie

Seriously, any guy who talks New York-like is automatically on the radar! 😁

#newsies #newsies 1992 #newsies musical #newsies broadway #newsies x reader #newsies memes #new york #new york accent #west side story imagine #west side story x reader #wss 2021

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delulu-enough-for-you · 10 months

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So I was watching Newsies, and all I could think of was:

Race: I'm the king of New York!

Diner staff: what the fuck-

#newsies #newsies 1992 #newsies broadway #racetrack higgins #mush #jack kelly #jack kelly x reader #newsies imagine

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heliads · 17 days

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LISA !! your requests being open again is a glorious occasion, i’m so happy !!

now, could i pretty please request spot conlon with a gender-neutral reader who’s a brooklyn newsie ? the reader’s newsie nickname is sunshine because they’re known for being super cheerful and sweet and pretty much always having a smile on their face, but thing is that spot’s kind of closed-off and gruff with them, even more than he is normally, because he finds it kind of grating how relentlessly happy they are when as newsies they live the way they do. but the reader just keeps on being the way they are, being kind to spot and smiling whenever they see him no matter how he always responds with a scowl, until finally he snaps at them and tells them to quit being so weird and happy all the time, but then they actually do and it makes him realize that he’s relied on seeing their smile every day and that he actually likes seeing it, so he goes to find sunshine and apologize, telling them that he actually admires how strong they are to keep being kind and happy despite everything and how much he appreciates it. it doesn’t have to end with a confession or anything, but hopefully at least some romantic undertones ? now, as always, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but thanks in advance if you do, and i hope you’re doing well !! <3

'cloudy days' - spot conlon

masterlist

For once, it’s not a gray and blustery day in New York. Spot Conlon doesn’t know what the hell he was thinking, settling in a place like this, although he supposes he never really had a choice about it at all. It’s a cold and shady city, and that mood translates to its people. No one here would give him the time of day unless they absolutely had to, and he wouldn’t give them a damn thing either. That’s the tune of the city, and Spot drums it daily. Eat or be eaten. Kill or get killed.

That’s the way it’s always been, the way it always will be. Spot doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy. He’s grown past the point of needing it. Spot will do what Spot does best: look out for himself, never take handouts, never be dependent on anything save his feet to carry him places and that weird thing beating between his ribs to keep him alive.

The other newsies respect that, and look up to it. Brooklyn may have a reputation for being the meanest borough around, but the newsies protect each other like no one else. Even when the sun don’t shine for months on end. Even on rare days, like today, when it does.

The bright streets have Spot thinking a little funny, just like always. When the sun is out and the skies are blue, he starts feeling a strange thing some might describe as happiness. For once, everything isn’t totally terrible. It’s like the high he gets after soaking his enemies, ‘cept his knuckles aren’t bloody and his eyes aren’t blackened.

Maybe it’s got him in a good mood. Maybe that’s why, when a new fella comes looking for a spot in Spot’s growing army of newsies, he’s inclined to say yes. This new ally of his is nothing like Spot has ever seen before. They’re smiling at him before they so much as tip their hat or say hello. At first, it makes him wonder if they’ve got some sort of problem, then he realizes that the newcomer isn’t grinning like that to be threatening, just because they’re legitimately, well, happy.

Strange. Confusing, even. Still, the abundance of sunshine is rattling Spot’s brain, so instead of laughing in their face, he actually offers them a place amongst the ranks. Were it any other day, he’s sure he would have made them go somewhere a little more sickly-sweet, where friendship is magic and everyone can stand around, fuckin’, square dancing or something, whatever it is they do over in ‘Hattan or the other less serious boroughs, but he doesn’t. He welcomes them into his home. He pretends he isn’t completely baffled by their happy-go-lucky act.

And, since it’s clearly on the brain anyway, he gives them a nickname then and there, a real Spot Conlon first edition: Sunshine. He reckoned it seemed pretty true at the moment. As it turns out, he had no idea. Sunshine gets on his damn nerves every moment of every day. They’re so sweet it makes him want to throw up. If he ever saw them without a smile on their face for longer than thirty seconds, he’d suspect an imposter. They toss out compliments like they mean it or something, and they actually pick flowers to give to their friends.

Spot would think it was an act, except it actually isn’t. No way a human being could keep up a pretense that long and not go totally crazy. Spot, for one, does feel like he’s going crazy, but that’s neither here nor there.

Every day is the same. He wakes up too early, drags himself out of bed and gets ready, then pokes his head out of his space just to find Sunshine already up and at it, beaming at him and wishing him a very good morning, Spot, before turning to the next half-asleep newsie and repeating them message, and man, he wants to throttle someone already. In the line for papes, they’re excitedly talking to him about how they hope for a good headline, and whenever Spot runs into them while selling, they’ve always got something funny to say. If Spot wanted to laugh, he’d go to the circus. Although even he has to admit that New York feels like that half the damn time anyway.

It’s actually starting to make him angry. Who is this newcomer to burst in and disrupt everyone like this? Spot’s no fool. Even though he’s proud of his newsies and glad to be among the best company there is, this isn’t the life any of them would choose if they had other options. The newsies are here because they have no money and no prospects. They are the terrible youth, set out on the streets because there is no one else to watch out for them but each other.

Yet here’s this stranger, bounding down the halls of their lodging house, beaming and laughing as if everything were sugar and sweet. It feels as if they’re making a mockery of the whole thing, and Spot doesn’t like being taken for a fool.

It twists his judgment. Spot isn’t exactly known for his warm and caring personality, but he cracks down even harder around Sunshine. Maybe then they’ll figure out that the whole super happy thing doesn’t fly around here. Dreams don’t get you anywhere, and pretending otherwise only costs a lot of effort that could instead be directed towards selling some papes.

He should be better, Spot knows that. Already, his closest friends have started to scold him (very carefully) about how he’s treating sunshine. “Y/N’s no problem,” they’ve said. “It’s just you, Spot.” But he doesn’t listen.

One day, he gets to the breaking point. After another restless night, Spot drags himself out of bed despite not getting nearly enough sleep. He’s hardly stepped out of his room before Sunshine’s smiling cheerily at him, asking, “How was your sleep, Spot?”

As if they can’t tell by the look on his face. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Spot positively growls at them, “Terrible, obviously. God, can you just quit it with that stupid attitude? It’s makin’ me crazy.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just pushes right past them and heads downstairs. He’s a grouch all morning, purposely making sure no one is near him while he’s selling and not talking to a soul all throughout the day. He manages to pull himself together enough to sell the papes he needs, but other than that, Spot is barely functioning at all.

Even the Brooklyn newsie home base seems quiet and uneasy when he gets back. Spot sits by himself in his office, temper growing worse with every passing hour. He can’t put his finger on the issue until nightfall, when he hears a chorus of cheerful voices out in the hall and realizes that Sunshine hasn’t spoken to him all day. Not since he snapped at them.

Cursing faintly, Spot drags a tired hand across his face. He’s fucked up, hasn’t he? Thinking back on it now, he remembers the startled look in Sunshine’s eyes when he told them to stop being so fake all the time. It’s fine, he tells himself. Everyone gets their feelings stepped on in Brooklyn. Things will be back to normal this time tomorrow.

Only, it isn’t. When Spot wakes up, Sunshine isn’t there to wish him a good morning. They avoid him in the line to pick up papes, and they steer clear of him throughout the entire day. Even when he makes a point of emerging from his office to sit with the rest of the newsies, Sunshine talks to every damn person there but him. It’s enough to make anyone feel a little guilty. Even Spot Conlon.

As the days go by without a single word from Sunshine, Spot feels worse and worse. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to see their smiles and hear their laughter until he didn’t get a drop of it. It’s like he’s trapped in permanent storm clouds. Only gray clouds and cold nights for him.

God, he’s getting poetic. This is horrific. Spot knows what he has to do, and even though he dreads the idea of having to admit he was wrong, he gathers his strength and goes to find Sunshine. At first, they try to duck out of the way when they see him coming, but Spot tracks them down, pulling them into an empty room so they can talk.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Spot says by way of introduction.

Sunshine doesn’t meet his eyes. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

A sharp prick of guilt stabs through his chest. “I thought that, too. Turns out I was wrong.”

Sunshine’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet his. “Really?”

“Really,” Spot confirms. “I– I like being around you, Y/N. I like hearing you talk. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about being you.”

A slow, careful smile spreads across Sunshine’s face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Spot says indignantly. “What, you’d think I’d go around saying things that ain’t true? What a waste of time.”

When Sunshine starts laughing, Spot feels his cheeks start to rush with warmth. “It’s not– you know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I do,” they grin. “I’m just glad to hear you want me back.”

“I do want you,” Spot breathes. “Back, I mean. I want you back. Yes.”

When Sunshine smiles knowingly at him again, Spot gets the odd feeling that he’s revealed more of himself than he really ought to, like he’s been caught showing his cards halfway through a bet. He gets the feeling he can trust Sunshine to not call him out, though. For some reason, he believes in them more than anyone. Maybe even more than himself.

The threadbare curtains on a nearby window shift slightly, allowing a thin, tenuous ray of sunlight to slip through the cracks. It slices neatly through the room, illuminating Y/N’s face in thin tendrils of gold. The sun’s back again. They’re back again, and Spot might be okay after all.

requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#spot conlon #spot conlon imagines #spot conlon x reader #spot conlon oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies spot conlon #newsies spot conlon imagines #newsies spot conlon x reader #newsies spot conlon oneshot #newsies spot #newsies spot x reader #newsies broadway #newsies live

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rivthejellyfish · 2 years

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Not Scared Anymore

Word count: 1685

Hurt/Comfort

Platonic!Newsies x reader

Navigation

_ _ _

“Y/N! We’ve missed you, where’ve you been?” Y/N groaned internally. They had seen the Delancey twins this morning, and the day before, and the day before that, and every single time they say the same thing. The two knew it annoyed them, so they took advantage of it. Y/N turned away from the direction they were walking in, holding up a newspaper and calling out a fake headline.

“No need to be so cold, ya know,” Oscar said. Y/N continued to ignore them, not looking back at the two as an older man exchanged a paper for a penny. Y/N thanked him as he walked away and he only grunted in return.

“Look at you go, selling those papes so quickly. We’re so proud of you.” One of the two put his hand on top of their head, shaking their hat around before taking it off and tossing it over to the other. Y/N sighed.

“Just give me back my damn hat, Delancey,” They said once they had turned around. Morris shrugged, spinning the hat with his finger.

“If ya want it back so bad, you’re gonna have to fight for it,” He said. The two brothers shared a laugh as Y/N tried to grab the hat, only for it to be tossed to the other.

“You heard him, Y/N. Can’t make any exceptions, even for you,” Oscar said. Y/N huffed, turning around and walking away. They didn’t need their hat to sell the paper, they’d be just fine without it. And they did. They sold two papers in the next twenty minutes, glad to see the twins hadn’t followed them. However, the second they felt the relief, an annoying voice came from down the road.

“Could you imagine walking away from a fight, Morris? I think that if someone does it says quite awful lot about them, what about you?”

“Oh, I completely agree. I think it means that they’re a wimp, and they know they can’t win.” Y/N turned to tell them to screw off, only for Oscar to pull the papers out from underneath their arm and throw them to the side. They tried to go after them, but the two brothers blocked their path. Right as they exchanged a sinister glance, someone else butted in.

“Delancey!” Jack called. The three looked over to see Jack storming over, David behind him with an obvious look of ‘I have to make sure he doesn’t kill anyone’. Further proving the theory of what the look meant, he grabbed Jack’s arm once they had got there and pulled him back slightly, not having the slightest trust in him. “Get the hell away from dem.”

“When will you learn to mind your own damn business, Kelly?”

“Once you two piss off.” Oscar scoffed, shaking his head. Morris rolled his eyes. He turned back to Y/N as Oscar started walking away.

“Times gonna come when he doesn’t get here in time, and trust me when I say that both of us are looking forward to it.” He shoved the hat to Y/N’s chest, taking a final chance to glare at Jack before catching up with Oscar. As Y/N put the hat back on, Jack turned to David.

“No, Jack.”

“Yous saying those dicks don’t deserve it?”

“I’m not-”

“Let’s not argue about this,” Y/N spoke up before anything could escalate. Of course, it wouldn’t escalate too badly, but Y/N didn’t feel like hearing the two bitter back and forth while trying to sell the rest of their papers. They bent down, picking up the papers the Delancey’s had thrown to the ground. They groaned once realizing that none of the papers hadn’t fallen into the puddle, meaning they couldn’t sell any of them. No one wanted wet papers.

“Dammit, Y/N, sorry we couldn’t get here any sooner,” Jack said as he and Davey helped pick up the soaking paper. Y/N shrugged.

“It’s whatever. There’s always tomorrow.” Of course, both Jack and David knew that it wasn’t whatever, considering the money Y/N just lost and the small bit of dignity, but they didn’t say anything. The three walked back to the lodge house, Jack and Davey having already sold all their papers, throwing the wet papers away along the way. They walked in to see a few others had already returned, including Crutchie, Race, Specs, and Romeo.

“You three have already sold all your papers?” Jack said, skeptical of all of them aside from Crutchie. Race placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

“Course we did, Jack, what do yous think of us?”

“I don’t think you’d want to hear that answer,” Crutchie said, laughing at Jack’s nod to agree with his statement.

“Hey, Y/N, what is yous doing back so early? Thought you liked to go watch the fishes or something?” Specs asked.

“Yeah, Y/N, what’s up?” Romeo asked, not seeing the glare that Jack had sent Specs. Race, however, did.

“It was them Delancey’s again wasn’t it?” He said, standing up as he rolled up his sleeves. “Two need to learn a lesson.” David grabbed Race’s bicep as he walked by him.

“Go sit down.” Race groaned, turning around.

“This is why no one likes you, Davey,” Race said as he fell back into the chair.

“That ain’t true!” Crutchie said. “I like you, Davey, you’re a cool guy.”

“Ok, everyone shut up,” Y/N said, making sure not to look at Crutchie when she said it, considering it was directed towards everyone aside from him. “Yeah, I had a run-in with the Delancey's, wasn’t a big deal. Got out of it without a scratch, no need to make a big deal over it.”

“Y/N, the only reason you did was because Davey and I showed up at the right time.” Before Y/N could protest, David had to interrupt.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Y/N sent a glare toward David, who sent an apologetic look back.

“Hows about we teach you some tricks to help yous out when those pricks are around, might help you out a bit?” Specs suggested. Race lit up at the idea.

“Oh, please say yes, I’ve been dying for an excuse to beat Romeo’s ass after he stole my customers from me last week.”

“I didn’t steal shit, you’re just a lousy newsie.”

“Oh really? Y/N, watch this.”

“Shut your traps, both of yous,” Jack interrupted. He turned to Y/N. “That ain’t too bad of an idea, though, you wanna try it?” Y/N shrugged.

“Don’t got anything better to do.” The second after they said it, Race jumped onto Romeo, calling for Y/N to watch and see how it was done. Jack groaned, pulling Race back.

“Dumbasses.”

—

Y/N had finished selling their papers for the day, walking back to the lodge house to meet with Crutchie for a game of War. As they walked, they got the sense that someone was following them, but decided it’d be better to just ignore it. So they did. Until someone grabbed them by their arm, pulling them into one of the many alleyways in Manhattan. Y/N quickly regained their balance to turn to see the Delancey brothers standing there, smirks on their faces.

“Think you’ve been avoiding us, haven’t you?” Morris said, stepping forward. Y/N rolled their eyes, going to push past the two. Right as they tried, a punch was given to their right cheek, leaving a stinging pain that Y/N could only assume was from the ring Oscar was wearing.

“You don’t get to leave after you’ve been so disrespectful. It’s time for you to pay up.”

“Look, I don’t want any trouble, ok? I just want to get back to the lodge house and go to sleep.”

“Should’ve thought about that before you changed your selling spot without us knowing.” Before Y/N could respond, the two stepped forward, swinging hits at them as they backed up. Once they hit a wall, fear struck them knowing they had nowhere else to go. Another punch landed on their stomach as well as their jaw. They ducked down as the next one was sent their way, kicking Oscar in the stomach causing him to fall back. Morris tried to take the chance to grab Y/N’s leg, but Y/N lowered it quickly enough and pushed him away. Seeing as both of them were now on the ground, Y/N went to run away before they could get up. However, Oscar grabbed their foot, causing them to fall to the ground, scraping their knees and elbows. They flipped over onto their back, kicking back at Oscar as he tried to grab them again. They threw a punch at Morris, who hadn’t been expecting it, and he stumbled back. Getting back on their feet, Y/N turned and sprinted the next few blocks. They got to the lodge house, where Jack was outside. Jack saw them coming and his expression changed, turning away from David and coming over.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” He said, putting his hands on their biceps. Y/N was breathing heavily, shaking their head. “Y/N, are you alright?” Y/N nodded, and it sounded as though they were crying. “Y/N, talk to us, come on.” Y/N looked up, showing the cuts on their face, along with a smile.

“You should’ve been there!” Y/N exclaimed. Jack looked back at David, confused. “They had cornered me in an alley but I fought back! I kicked them and hit them and got away!”

“Are you talking about the Delancey’s?” David asked. Y/N nodded, jumping slightly at their excitement.

“You should’ve seen their faces! They were so confused, they didn’t know what hit ‘em!” Jack chuckled.

“Hell yeah, Y/N, wish I could see them now,” Jack said, smiling down at them.

“Yeah, but are you ok, Y/N? You’re bleeding,” David said, reaching up to assess the cut on their cheek. Y/N rolled their eyes, pushing his hand away.

“I’m fine, Davey, never been better!”

“How about we goes inside and tell everyone about how you beat their asses?” Jack said. Y/N nodded.

“Hell yeah!” As Jack and Y/N turned and ran inside, David rolled his eyes, laughing himself before following behind them.

#jack kelly imagine #davey jacobs imagine #newsies broadway #jack kelly #david jacobs #jack kelly x reader #davey jacobs x reader #newsies imagine #newsies x reader

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crutchie-with-a-y · 2 years

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A couple days late, BUT HAPPY 123RD ANNIVERSARY OF THE NEWSBOYS’ STRIKE OF 1899!!!

#newsies #newsies fandom #newsies fanfic #newsies fanfiction #newsies imagine #broadway #jack kelly #musicals #racetrack higgins #broadway musicals #newsies live #1992sies #race newsies #newsboy strike of 1899 #newsboy strike

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kellyscowboy · 1 year

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꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱ REFLECTION OF DECEPTION

ᯇ summary ! ✦ 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 ᯇ warnings ! ✦ lowkey just angsty, uhh i mean not too angsty ig but i think you get the idea, a single cuss word lol ᯇ vienna's thoughts ! ✦ sorry this is lowkey so short! i thought it was gonna be a lot longer but it didn't turn out that way. reblogs & notes are greatly appreciated♡. also its 1 am & this was only edited once so if it doesn't make sense just pretend it isnt here. also!! this is very different from what i usually write so bear with me 823 WORDS © 2023 , 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

Jack Kelly was a sculpture, a gift sent from the gods. He was just as much a piece of art as he was an artist. From his calloused hands used in only the softest of ways, to the way his eyes spoke every truth of his soul. There had never been such a human to walk the earth, David Jacobs was sure of that.

David could talk about the abstract creation that was Jack Kelly until his heart stopped. About how Jack Kelly was the design of Aphrodite and Apollo, and how he would worship him as the people of Greece had worshiped his creators.

For Aphrodite blessed him love, with beauty. She pressed the dimples into his cheeks and painted the freckles on his face—the ones that only appeared when the sun shone. His laugh, that could send anyone within a twelve-mile radius into an early grave, was all her doing. Aphrodite had spent days, if not weeks (hell, Dave could argue it took years) perfecting him.

Apollo had blessed him with the sun. For his smile, the toothy smile that was so wide it could make someones jaw hurt just from seeing it, radiated more warmth than a hot New York day. And Apollo blessed him with light, for his eyes shone brighter than the brightest star. His artistic gifts had also been hand-curated by Apollo, an ability unique to Jack. Because there was nothing that anyone else could create that could compete with his works.

Jack Kelly put every bit of his being into his art. Every single stroke of paint held a little bit of his soul. His rough hands would glide over dried paint, and everything he possessed would leak into his canvases. Every line his calloused fingers traced stole its first breath from his fingertips.

He knew of beauty. He knew that beauty was everything. Beauty was a young mother holding her terrified sons' hand and pretending she wasn't just as scared as him. Beauty took form in the way of brotherhood, and beauty was ten thousand fists—ones of different background and beliefs—angrily thrown into the air.

Each and everything that blessed Jack's eyes was art. There, however, was one exception. And it was quite possibly the best piece of art in existence. Himself.

Apate, mistress of deceit, had stolen the creation of Jack Kelly just before he had been sent to bless the Earth. Though she could not undo the work of another deity, she could curse him to a life of falsity. She could change his story from one of art and blessing to one of tragedy. And she did. She took a film of insecurity and deception, and gently pressed it atop his eyes. Then, as an extra fuck you, she manipulated mirrors to whisper heinous lies to him for the rest of his life.

And the story of his creation turned from a story to a tragedy. For Jack had been blessed with the beauty, skills, and warmth of the gods; but he would never be able to admire the piece of art that changed David Jacobs' life. Himself.

While Jack Kelly had changed his life, David Jacobs had changed the other boys' fate.

"Davey," Apate—in an attempt to keep Jack Kelly's story one of tragedy—whispered to him from the clouds, "Be wary, for mirrors shall be your downfall. And with every mirror that you break, you shall be punished with seven years of badgering luck."

But Aphrodite's voice spoke to him loudly and with confidence. "It is untrue that mirrors shall be your downfall, for your story is one of great love. You will love greater than I have loved, and it will be your downfall. But for every love you love, and for every reflection shattered, you shall fix the broken. Do not be wary, for your fate is written in the stars."

And so it was told.

Jack Kelly had been stolen by the goddess of deceit and was misled by his reflection. And while David Jacobs had been the product of Athena and Momus, their tales had been curated by Zeus. Zeus, god of fate, wrote their story into the stars so that David Jacobs may save Jack Kelly from the fate that was himself.

They had been destined to save each other since the stars had been formed. While Jack Kelly drowned in the deception of his reflection, David pulled him out and broke every mirror that dared whisper into his lovers' ear.

Jack Kelly had been made to be a tragedy, an artist who would never be able find the art within himself. But David Jacobs had been made to save him. For David Jacobs' love was his downfall, and his lifetime of bad luck meant nothing when he got to feel Jack Kelly's lips against his own.

And so true was it, that the story in the stars had been their fate.

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ericityyy · 4 months

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i just watched the newsies broadway musical yesterday and it was so good! should i include it to my masterlist?

#newsies #newsies broadway #musical #newsies musical #masterlists #masterlist #imagines #one shots #author ask

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youaintnothinbuta · 8 months

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— jack kelly boyfriend hcs —

ೃ⁀➷ summary: just a bunch of cute boyfriendy hcs about jack !

pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

warnings: none

A/N: feel free to request a specific trope of hcs, maybe some nsfw ones next ?? Hope you enjoy <3

• He is incredibly gentle with you

• He needs to be making physical contact at. all. times. Even when he’s talking to someone else, his hand will still be on your shoulder or on the small of your back

• He’s always brushing your hair out of your face, usually followed by a caress of the jaw

• “Let everyone see that pretty face’a yours.”

• Gently rocks you whenever you’re curled up on his lap. It’s very subtle, but he always does it

• During cuddle sessions, he’ll usually hum or softly sing with his chin rested on the top of your head

• Consequently, you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his throat against your head (which you find oddly comforting)

• WHINES LIKE CRAZY when you tell him you don’t feel pretty and then spends the next 20 minutes RANTING about how you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, no matter how many times you try to take back your original claim

• Whines also when he doesn’t get morning cuddles for as long as he’d like (even if you are lying there squirming telling him how much you need to get up to pee)

• Seriously every second sound that comes out of his mouth is a whine

• He craves the smell your skin. Just loves to bury his face into the crook of your neck, which is what he would describe as the most comfortable place in all of New York

• Purposely ignores you when you’re tugging on the hem of his shirt or sleeve cuff for attention, because by doing so you’re giving him attention, which he loves

• He won’t let you walk though a crowd without holding his hand. Like he physically will not move until your hand is in his

• Did I mention he whines a lot? Cos you can’t tease him. Not even a little bit. He’ll just whine and trod after you like a desperate horny teenager

• He absolutely FOLDS whenever you fix his collar without him asking. The feeling of your fingertips lightly grazing the back of his neck sends chills through him

• When you say something and he doesn’t hear you, he pulls you in by the waist and turns his head by your face and says “say again, sweetheart”

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