#albert dasilva imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sl-newsie · 2 years ago

Text

Meet Me At Midnight: Race x West Side Jet girl (Newsies/ West Side Mafia)

Liked the idea of a Newsies/ West End Mafia series, so I’m rolling with it. Warnings of slight violence, some swearing, and Riff being a huge jerk.

“God I hate this place,” I groan as tha broom picks up dust. “I can’t wait to get outta here!”

“Calm down, mi querida! You may not like it here, but some of us had to work hard to get here!” Valentina ushers me towards tha counter.

I sigh. “I know, I know senora. But between tha Jets and Sharks always fight’n I just can’t take it anymore! I’s always stuck in some mob business, one way or anodda. And it don’t help that Riff’s always try’n to set me up with someone.”

“Patience, patience. Life will provide!” Valentina assures me.

But just then tha door bangs open and Riff himself swings in.

“Ey, Rita! Ya done woirk’n yet? We’s got business in ‘Hattan to deal with!” He struts up and lays an arm across me. “Well?”

My eyes glare daggers at the West End leader as I shake him off. “Alright, alright.” I give Valentina an apologetic look. “Sorry, Senora. But mob business comes foist.”

The kind woman smiles. “Of course, mi querida. Just be careful.”

Tha car ride to ‘Hattan is quiet and, quite frankly, boring. Riff, Anybodys, and Mouthpiece are with me, though it’s still unclear why I had to come.

“So what do I gotta do with this?” I ask as I take a lazy swig outta my glass.

“We need a lady present,” Anybodys states plainly.

I squint. “Why?”

“This is a peaceful meet’n, so we’s have’n you come so Cowboy don’t have too much security.”

“Why wouldn’t he because of me?”

“Cowboy has a high respect for goils, ‘cause of his wife. He keeps his men away from goils so they don’t feel outta place. This helps us if things go south and we need to start a rumble.”

I nearly choke on my whiskey. “Really, Riff? You’d do a rumble every day if you could!”

Mouthpiece takes away my drink. “Ya shouldn’t do that, Rita. It’s bad for ya-”

“Says tha guy with a gamble’n problem!”

“Hey! I ain’t so bad! You should see my brodda Race! Actually, ya might meet him today. He’s Kelly’s 2nd.”

I roll my eyes. “Fascinate’n. Anodda mob family member. Just lemme know when the action starts.”

Riff frowns. “You know that rules, Rita. No goils at rumbles. It’s too dangerous.”

“And yet you’s plan’n on a rumble with me at tha meet’n anyway.”

“Only as a last resort! Our mission is to set up more territory here, and since Cowboy’s consider’n retirement we thought we could get him to budge.”

“It’s a waste-a time, boss. We knows Race’ll take ova if Kelly quits,” Mouthpiece inputs.

“He’s no leader! Cowboy just made him 2nd ‘cause Race won a bet!” Anybodys argues.

“Hey! That’s my brodda you’s talk’n about, so can it!”

I give Riff a lazy glance. “My presence isn’t even calm’n these two idiots, so how’s it supposed to work on Kelly?”

“Believe me, Rita. It will.”

I gotta say, ‘Hattan’s meet’n house is a wonder. We usually just hold meet’ns in the junkyard, but this… I could get used to this! A grand staircase, tall bookshelves, satin royal blue couches…

“Hiya, handsome!” Comes a voice from the top-a tha stairs. I look up and see-

Oh my God.

The. Most. Gorgeous. Man. I. Have. Ever. Seen!

He looks like Mouthpiece, but older. And instead of gray, his eyes are the most radiant blue I’ve ever seen. And his smile… Blue eyed, blonde, and poifect.

“Um… you ok, Rita?” Anybodys shakes me.

I come outta my trance. “Huh? What? Oh- yeah. Just enjoy’n tha big room.”

“How ya been, Race?” Mouthpiece embraces tha guy in a giant hug.

“Not so bad! Track’s been slow, so not much action go’n around-” He looks down, and sees me. “Well hello, doll! Mouthpiece, you’s didn’t tell me ya’d be bring’n such a beautiful doll with ya.” He slides down tha railing and saunters up to me.

God, he’s even more handsome up close.

I cross my arms. “Mouthpiece mentioned you- says you has a gamble’n problem.’

Tha blonde’s smile widens. “I like you, doll! Mouthpiece, can I keep her?”

My heart does a backflip and I nearly say yes-!

“No.”

Riff steps in front-a me and blocks Racetrack. “She’s our best goil, and I ain’t let’n her go so easy- especially with one-a you ‘Hattan boys!”

“Why us?” A voice comes.

I turn and find Jack Kelly hisself, lean’n against a nearby door. Decked out in a Manhattan navy blue suit with a red tie, and a cowboy hat to top it off.

Basic color schemes for tha boroughs: ‘Hattan’s blue, Brooklyn’s red, and West End’s green. Like we’s each got a code.

“Ah, Kelly! Good to see ya! I’s just set’n parameters with Racetrack here!” Riff slings his arm around me and I cringe. “Rita here’s off-limits, capiche?”

Cowboy saunters ova and looks me dead in the eye, as if analyze’n me inside and out.

“Ya look bored.”

I grunt. “When you’s just here as an escort, you’d be too.”

Cowboy chuckles. “She your 2nd?” He asks Riff.

“Nah. Just a damn good member of tha family.”

“So she’s important?”

“You bet your ass, Kelly.” Riff’s jaw tightens.

“Good. So’s Racetrack, my 2nd.” Cowboy motions for Race, who struts up will’nly. “I’ll meet with ya, but only if you let Race get acquainted with your dame here. That sound good, Rita?”

I nod, a bit too eagerly. But Riff disagrees.

“Too risky, Kelly. I ain’t let’n my best goil go with him.” He points at Race as if he’s death.

Cowboy tilts his head. “If ya can’t trust your best goil with my best man, then I can’t trust you, Lorton. So what’ll it be?”

I can tell Cowboy’s got Riff on tha ropes, ‘cause I see tha wheels turn’n in his head. Thankfully, he eventually gives in.

“Fine,” he says stiffly. “But twenny minutes tops.”

“I only need 10!” Racetrack says gleefully.

“C’mon, Riff. Let’s talk business.” Cowboy leads Riff and tha rest-a tha Jets away, leave’n me, Race, and a few of the ‘Hattan security members.

“That there’s Mush and Blink. But they’s don’t bite. So…” Race’s bright eyes find mine. “Wanna take a walk?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

I take his arm and he walks me to a sunny courtyard, all tha while I’s try’ to keep my cool in front-a the handsome blonde.

“So your name’s Rita?”

“That’s what it says on tha birth certificate.”

“Bit dull if ya ask me.”

“You and me both, blondie.”

Race snickers. “Blondie, huh? I’s been called a lodda things, doll, but that’s a new one!”

He pulls out a cigar, lights it, and lets out a puff-a smoke.

“Those things’ll kill ya,” I state blankly.

“Whaddya gonna do? Squeal on me to Cowboy?” Race teases.

“No- I want a smoke too.” I snatch his cigar and take a puff.

“Hey! Gimme!” He swipes it back, a wide grin spread’n on his face.

“Hm.” I stare blankly at a marble fountain as I let the tobacco get outta my system.

“Still bored?”

I smirk. “I’s always bored.”

Race looks confused. “Why?”

“Riff neva lets me go on any big missions- only as a lady escort. In all honesty, tha West Side’s pretty dull.”

“Ya from there?”

I nod. “Born and raised, left with no parents and caught up in a mob. I got a job at Doc’s to get by, but oddawise my life’s pretty basic.”

Race considers this, then looks around to make sure we’s alone. He then grabs my hand and leads me inside to a hallway of doors, inside tha foist door into… a closet?

“Racetrack, whaddya-?”

Race cuts me off by press’n a finger to my lips, make’n my eyes go wide. He leans in, brush’n his lips with mine.

“You trust me, doll?”

I nod, heart pound’n in my chest. “I think so.”

He grins. “Good. Meet me at midnight, at tha Brooklyn bridge. It’s safe territory, so you’s don’t godda worry ‘bout no trouble. Wear someth’n nice.”

I squint. “What’s this for, Racetrack-?”

“Anthony.” He takes my hand and kisses it. “Call me Anthony.”

I gape. What a name. “That’s your real name? Then why’re ya called Racetrack?”

Anthony looks sheepish. “Um… ‘cause-a my gamble’n problem. Just don’t go tell’n Riffy ‘bout it, ‘cause I likes to keep it secret.”

“Then why do you trust me?”

“I donno. Maybe I just think you’s too beautiful not to trust. Meet me tonight, doll, and I’ll help make your life not so dull.” He grins.

I arch an eyebrow. “Whaddya got in mind?”

“I gots a few ideas…” He trails off just as tha door’s open by a small kid with wide eyes.

“Oh! Sorry Race, but I gotta hide! David’s try’n to force me to sit in with tha meet’n so I can ‘get experience.’ Can ya help me?”

Race looks at me, then back at tha kid, then at me again.

“Rita, Les. Les, Rita.” He gestures back and forth.

I wave. “Hi!”

Tha kid waves back, but then we hear: “Les! Where are you? Jack’s wait’n for you!”

Les panics and slides past me, hide’n snug in tha closet. Race and I slip out and shut tha door just as a tall, dark-haired guy in a business suit and fedora comes walk’n ‘round tha corner.

“Race! You seen Les come by?” He then notices me. “This Riff’s goil that Jack’s been talk’n about? Tha meet’n’s barely started and Lorton can hardly stand be’n without her. It’s pathetic!”

Race shrugs. “Sorry, Mouth. I’s haven’t seen Les. I’s been show’n Rita around.” He squeezes my hand and looks at me. “Rita, this is Mouth- er, Davey. But we calls him Mouth.”

Davey holds out a hand, and I let go-a Race’s hand to shake- but then Race’s hand immediately finds mine again.

“Well, gotta go, Mouth. Lots-a things to see.” Race leads me down tha hall and back into tha grand entrance, where we lean against tha door to hear how tha meet’ns go’n.

“Lorton, I’ll say it one more time before I lose me temper: tha answer’s no. Just ‘cause there’s rumors say’n I’s retire’n don’t mean you’s can just take our territory! I’s stand’n with my decision: Race carries out as leader once I’s gone.”

I hear Riff snort. “Talk serious, Kelly. Higgins won’t last a day-”

Next to me, Race grits his teeth.

I also hear someone inside pound on a desk.

“Racetrack Higgins is one-a tha most loyal, qualified men I know. If you got a problem with it, then consider our contract void!”

My hand flies to my mouth to cover my gasp. But that means… no more Race.

Racetrack squeezes my hand and I see his head droop.

No. I will not let Riff ruin this for me!

I yank Race’s arm and lead him outside, where I pin him against tha wall and stare him dead in tha face.

“I- I know I just met you, and this sounds completely ridiculous, but- but I like you, Anthony. You’s tha only one who’s put any amount of fun in my life. And I don’t want some stupid mob rule get’n between me be’n your friend… that is if you’s still wanna be friends?”

At foist, Race is speechless. But then regains his confidence and cups my face with his hand.

“I’s think’n a bit further up than friends, if ya catch my drift,” he smirks. “I like you too, doll, and if you’s will’n to put up with me then I wanna make it so you’s never bored again.”

“So we’s still on for tonight?” I ask hopefully.

“Sure are, doll.” Race rests his forehead on mine. “Just make sure Riffy don’t follow ya.”

I scoff. “Don’t remind me I gotta ride home with that jerk.”

Race gives a sad sigh. “He might be right, though. Cowboy’s been talk’n with me ‘bout take’n ova, and I’s ain’t sure I’s tha right guy-”

“Shut up, Anthony. Don’t let Riff get to you, he just wants your territory. Believe me, if it was easy enough I’d switch sides in two seconds, but Riff won’t let me go so easy. He’ll target you and the entire Manhattan mob. But I know for a fact that you’s a real leader- ‘s just you gotta… act mature once in a while.”

Race chuckles. “Sounds boring.”

“Welcome to my woild.”

“If I’s leader, I’d want you at my side.”

I smile shyly. “I’s honored.”

“Rita! Where are you?!” Comes Riff. He shoves open tha door and when he sees Race so close to me I swear he nearly explodes. “Get your hands off her!”

“Lorton, get your ass off my territory before I tell Blink to beat you to a pulp!” Cowboy threatens. “Race, let tha dame go. She’s on tha wrong side.”

Kelly leads Race away while Riff jerks me toward the wait’n car driven by Action. I see Mouthpiece give an apologetic look at Race, who share tha same expression. Guess I’s not tha only one sad about this break up.

“Keep this low, Kelly. Wouldn’t want Snyder or Krupke sneak’n up to lock you up away from your woman, would ya?”

I see Kelly’s eyes go savage as he’s held back by Race from attack’n Riff. “Mention Sarah again, and I’ll rip your throat out!”

Before Riff can edge Cowboy any further, I yank him into tha car and slam tha door. Just before we speed away, I sneak a quick wave at Race’s bittersweet face.

Midnight can't come any sooner…

But it eventually does, and I keeps a weathered eye around me as I make my way to tha Brooklyn Bridge. Riff likes to keep tabs on me, so I told him I’s was stay’n home. Sadly, Baby John’s gonna have no one to report about. Yup- I’s seen him try’n to spy on me for Riff, but he’s new and don’t know all my escape tricks.

Gotta say, Brooklyn looks good at night- I’ll have to thank Spot for be’n so soft on me to cross his territory. Tha magnificent streetlights cast a drape of light on tha wet streets, illuminate’n my way from tha dreary, clouded sky. I donno why Riff’s so set on keep’n me in tha West Side. This ain’t so bad-

“Hey you!”

I turn and see two guys, broddas by tha looks of ‘em, headed straight for me.

Uh-oh, bad news. Weasel’s goons.

“Yeah, you. We’s seen you’s before, ain’t we Morris?”

“That’s right, Oscar. You’s Lorton’s broad, ain’t ya? What’s his prized dame do’n in Brooklyn in tha middle-a tha night?”

Tha taller one grabs my arm and I kick ‘em in tha crotch, then take off run’n. But I donno my surround’ns and there’s nowhere to hide…

“Hey, Rita! In here!” Comes a voice.

A hand grabs my wrist and pulls me into a cart, hide’n me in straw.

“What’s tha big idea, ya lunatic-!” I hiss at tha stranger, only to find-

“Hiya, doll!” A handsome blonde grins at me.

“Race!” I engulf him in a hug and cling to him, never want’n to let go. “I’s sorry, Race. I’s so sorry about Riff, he’s a stubborn bastard with no morals-”

Race cuts me off with a finger to my lips. “No need to apologize, doll. Tonight’s all about no mob business, so no more talk’n ‘bout Riffy. I gots a plan to help make your life a bit more excite’n!” He pokes his head out and makes sure tha coast is clear, then offers me a hand to help me down, get’n a good look at my dress.

“Nice getup, doll. Got all dolled up for me?” He kisses my hand.

I smirk. “You told me to, Anthony. Now tell me- where’re you take’n me?”

“You’ll see!”

He takes my hand and walks me down tha glisten’n streets to a large pub, where I’s can hear a large commotion go’n on inside. Race, be’n tha gentleman he is, open tha door and lets me in. I can’t believe my eyes- a party?

“What’s the occasion?” I smile.

“No occasion. This here’s Medda’s Joint. She owns tha local theatre, as well as this grand establishment. Every night there’s drink’n and dance’n, so I’s figured you’s could use some fun!”

I- Just- Wow.

I smile wider and squeeze Race’s hand. “Race, this is already tha most fun I’s had in a long time!”

Racetrack leans in closer. “That night ain’t done yet, doll.”

He leads me into a fast waltz, and before I knows it we’s dance’n as if nobody’s watch’n. I’s never danced much, but Race takes it slow at foist and swings me around like a professional. His touch sends electricity through me, and in no time it’s 3 in tha morn’n.

“Close’n time!” Announces tha bartender. I’s only had a few sips-a gin, and I’s still awake and excited.

“Sorry doll, rules are rules.” Race leads me outside, where I suddenly turn around and wrap my arms around Race’s neck, which turns him speechless.

“Thank you, thank you Anthony! That was so much fun! I’s never danced before, but I wish I could every night!”

“You could.”

I gape. “Really? It’s open every night?”

“Yeah, and… If you wanna, I could meet up with you again?” Race asks with a hint of hope.

He- He wants to see me again?

I shake me head. “Why, Higgins? Why would you wanna see me? Why- Why did you even invite me here? If it ain’t for mob business then what for?”

Race starts to say someth’n, then stops. He looks around, then leads me to an empty alley and stares directly into me.

“Anthony, what’re you-?”

“Lemme answer foist-”

Race cups my face with his hands and seals tha gap, and I’m in heaven. He tastes like cigars and cinnamon… I’s only kissed once or twice, and only for business maddas. But this- Race acts as if it ain’t business. Or am I just delusional?

When we pull apart to breathe, Race looks as if he’s high.

“God doll, you’s real sweet on me, ya know? I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but from tha moment you’s walked into that room I just wanted to make you mine. You’s got some hold on me, doll. I-”

“Hold up, Higgins.” I grip his hands away from my face and he looks confused.

“What? Did I do someth’n wrong-?”

“Are you sure I’s yours, or are you mine?” I smile devilishly.

Race’s smile returns. “I’m yours? Oh doll, all you had to do is say so!”

I lean in and kiss him deeply. “ So you’s mine now?”

He nods. “Always have been, from tha moment I laid eyes on you. And see’n you now, all dressed up and dance’n, you’s make’n me go crazy. Just- hear me out, Rita.” He wraps me in a hug and rests his head on mine. “Let’s just run. Run away with me, and we’ll never have to worry ‘bout mob stuff eva again.”

Oh God.

“Anthony-”

“You say my name so well, doll…”

“Anthony, you’d be will’n to give up be’n head-a tha ‘Hattan family just for me? We literally just met yesterday! For all you know I could be some bitter, lie’n skank!”

“But you ain’t. Don’t sell yourself short, Rita. You’s a gorgeous doll with wits ‘nd smarts. Lemme just say: some people grow to luv ova a few years. But me-” He kisses my forehead. “I’s luved you since I’s seen you. There ain’t a question in my mind about that.”

“But what about Jack? You’s his 2nd, and ya can’t just up and leave-”

“Watch me,” Race dares with a devilish look.

I scoff. “Anthony, it ain’t that simple. They’ll find us, either Jack or Riff- or both. I don’t wanna cause another rumble-”

“Do you luv me?” Race asks plainly.

I do a double-take. “What?”

“You know I adore you, doll. But- do you luv me?” He asks again.

Yesterday, I woulda thunk that fall’n in luv in a day sounded crazy, but…

“I- I do?” I look up. “I do, Race. I think I really do luv you, as crazy as it sounds. I mean- we just met, but you’s made my life worth’n live’n again. I donno how, but- what I’s try’n to say is, I luv you too, Anthony.”

“That’s all I needed!” Race trails kisses and nips down my neck. “Why should a mob get between luv? God intended you to find me, and I won’t let some stupid mob get in tha way.”

I breathe out in bliss. “But you’d be such a good leader, Race.”

“But I don’t wanna be a leader-” He looks up at me. “I wanna be with you.”

“You’s been in this business for years, and ya wanna throw it all away just ‘cause of a goil?”

Race looks sheepish. “Luv makes ya do stupid things, sometimes. ‘S just… I’s been get’n tired-a this whole mob thing, and find’n you is tha last straw. I want out, and I’s sure you do too, right?”

I nod. “All Riff uses me for is an escort, and I’s sick of it.”

“I know. So let’s just go- tonight! Please, Rita?” Race begs.

I think for a moment, then begin to conjure up someth’n.

“I think I got a plan…”

“Always think’n, ain’t ya, doll?”

“Shut up, blondie. What if… we proposed a peace agreement between our families? We don’t gotta leave, but we’s can be togedda. No more rumbles, and… we marry.” I look away, expect’n Race to start laugh’n and call’n me crazy…

“Really?” He sounds bewildered.

Here it comes…

“Y- You wanna marry me?”

I swallow. “I- I’s sorry. It’s stupid, I shouldn’t’ve-”

“Rita-” Race smiles and kneels down. “Will you, tha most gorgeous goil in all-a New York, marry me, the woild’s biggest idiot?”

God- I go from be’n bored and lonely to excited and engaged?!

“This is probably tha most rash decision I’s eva made…” I breathe in. “Anthony, I- I luv you so much, even if I’s only known you for a day. If tonight’s what my entire life’s gonna be if I’s with you, then I neva want it to end! So-” I lean down and kiss him deeply. “Anthony Higgins, I will gladly marry you!”

“Dear God!” Race hugs me tight and kisses my forehead, and when I feel tears drip’n down my cheek I look up and see Race is cry’n.

I press my palm against his cheek, which he leans into.

“Race, why’re ya cry’n? You look sad…”

He gives a shaky laugh and gulps. “Oh Rita, I ain’t sad… I’s cry’n ‘cause I donno how I could eva deserve a wonderful goil like you.”

“Riff might not see things our way.”

“To Hell with him, I’s just glad I found you, my gorgeous doll.” He squeezes me tighter.

I smirk. “And all ‘cause you said to meet you at Midnight.”

3 notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 4 months ago

Text

In The Stars - RedFinch Military AU

Albert DaSilva x Finch Cortes from Newsies

2.5k words cross posted on ao3 under cut

Title from the song by Benson Boone which was on repeat as I wrote this to establish ✨vibes✨

Any inaccuracies regarding military death notifications can be taken up with Fort Lee Casualty Assistance Center Casualty Notification Guide for the Casualty Notification Officer pdf from 2013 that I found online.

TW: major character death, mentions of vomiting (non graphic), mentions of self harm (not really graphic)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Albert was deployed, Finch was distraught. He didn’t want his husband to leave him, let alone leave their daughter.

“It’s just ten months. Not even a year. I’ll be back before you know.” They were both trying not to cry for the sake of Lily, who was not quite old enough to understand what was happening but not young enough to be ignorant of it all.

“Papa, what’s happening?” Albert knelt down next to her, gently taking her hands.

“I have to go, lilybug. Just for a little bit. Not a long time. I’m coming back soon, ok? Be good for your daddy.” Albert scooped her up, passing her into Finch’s arms. He hugged the two of them, then leaned in for one final kiss. “I’ll see you soon, I promise. Just ten months, yeah?” he spoke quietly, pressing his forehead against his husband’s. Finch nodded, choking back his tears.

“Just ten months.”

Then Albert was leaving, and Lily was crying, and maybe Finch was crying too, but he couldn’t tell. The rest of the day was a blur. The two of them headed back home, where Race and JoJo were waiting. JoJo took a now sleeping Lily to her bed while Race got some water for Finch.

“What if he doesn’t come back? What if I never see him again? What would I tell Lily?” Finch was hyperventilating, his hands shaking as he sobbed. Slowly, Race turned Finch towards him.

“Look at me. Look at me, Finch. Albert will be okay. It’s just ten months. He’ll be fine. I promise.” Race tilted Finch’s head up, nodding with what he hoped was a comforting smile. “Albert will be back before you know it.”

Those were the words that ran through his head when a soldier showed up at his door 7 months later.

“Daddy?” Lily called out. “There’s a man at the door.” Finch ran to the front hall.

“Lilybug, what did I tell you about answering the door? You gotta-“ He froze, taking in the crisp uniform and the stoic expression of the man who wore it. “Can I help you?” The man pursed his lips. “Are you Patrick DaSilva-Cortes?” Slowly, Finch picked up Lily, trying his best to ignore the dread creeping into his bones.

“Yeah, can I help you?”

“I am Captain Sam Robinson from Company A, 2nd Battalion, 21st Ordnance, from Stuttgart, Germany. I have an important message to deliver from the Secretary of the Army. May I come in, Mr. DaSilva-Cortes?"

Finch knew exactly what was happening. He had imagined it in his head over and over, and all the ways it could go, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the shock. It felt like he was drowning, with muffled sound and no air. All he could do was nod.

The captain stepped aside, revealing a younger man dressed in a slightly different uniform.

“This is Chaplain Steve Lewis. Is there somewhere we can sit down to talk?”

Wordlessly, Finch led them the living room, clutching Lily tightly. He moved to sit on the couch before stopping to look at the captain.

“What,” Finch closed his eyes, willing himself to stay composed. “What do I do with Lily? She can’t-“ he stopped as she looked up at him, eyes wide.

At barely three, Lily Patricia DaSilva-Cortes was shaping up to be sharper than both of her fathers. She had Albert’s flaming red hair and Finch’s love for music, as well as the penchant for mischief that both men shared. And above all, he loved her with his whole heart. How could he make her leave now?

“It’s nothing, darling. I’m staying with you.” He sat down, gesturing for the two men to do so as well. Carefully, he did his best to cover Lily’s ears before nodding for them to start.

The older one cleared his throat, looking Finch straight in the eye.

"The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your husband Albert died in Germany on October 19th. His truck crashed in an accident. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss."

That was it. Those were the words that Finch had been dreading ever since he knew Albert was going to leave. Those were the words that haunted him every day and every night as he prayed he would never have to hear them. And those were the words being said to him in the house he had built with Albert, holding the daughter they had raised together. The man was saying something that Finch couldn’t quite make out, but this couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be real, it can’t be real, and-

Finch felt something. Two tiny hands reaching for his shaking ones. That brought him back to the moment.

“Daddy, what’s this man saying? What happened? What’s happening?” Lily was on the verge of tears, her childish mind trying to find reason in the unreasonable.

“Nothing’s happened, dear. Nothing’s happened.” Finch wanted to just close his eyes and wake up from this nightmare, but he couldn’t. Not when the nightmare was simply reality.

“Why are you crying then?” She was too smart for her own good, really. He didn’t know what to say. How could he tell her?

“Sir, is there someone I can call?” The man was talking to him again. At least this was a question he could answer. Finch nodded, reaching for his phone. His contacts. Albert’s name stood there at the top, but he ignored it. Anthony Higgins. Call. There must’ve been some mercy left in the universe, as he picked up quickly.

“Yeah, Finch?”

Oh god. Race was Albert’s closest friend.

“Hello?”

What could he say? What could he possibly say in this moment?

“Are you there?”

Finally, Finch found his voice.

“I need you. At the house. JoJo too. It’s an-“ His voice caught on the last word. “It’s an emergency.”

Race must have sensed the tone of his voice, because he could immediately hear action on the other side of the phone.

“Shit, yeah. Are you okay? Is Lily okay?”

Finch nodded for a bit, until he remembered Race couldn’t see him.

“Yeah. Yeah. But, um,” Breaths. Deep breaths. He could do this. “Please hurry.” Finch could here Race calling for JoJo; they must have been at their place. He heard the rustle of their shoes, the click of the door, the beep of the car.

“The GPS says 10 minutes. Are you fine? Do we need to call someone?” Why was breathing so hard? Why couldn’t he breathe? It was Lily’s touch that kept him grounded, at least momentarily.

“No, no, 10 minutes is fine. You don’t need to call anyone. See you then.” He hung up quickly. He didn’t know how much longer he could’ve held on. Finch looked up at the man desperately, unsure of what to say next. Thankfully, he spoke up.

“We can stay with you until they arrive.” Finch nodded gratefully, running one hand through his daughter’s hair. He held her close, praying to whatever god was left that Race and JoJo would show up soon.

When they knocked on the door, the other man stood up to get it. He led Race and JoJo to where Finch and Lily were sitting. Finch could see them putting the pieces together and the shock of realization that flashed across their faces. They both turned towards the captain, gripping each other’s hands tightly. Race spoke first.

“Is Albert-“ He shook his head, unable to say those horrible words. JoJo stepped forward, holding onto Race like he was a lifeline.

“What happened?” The man turned towards Finch, seemingly asking for permission. Finch nodded, unable to see how he could tell them himself.

“The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that Albert died in Germany on October 19th. His truck crashed in an accident. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss.”

Race’s mouth dropped open in horror as JoJo reached back to steady him. Carefully, he sat Race down next to Finch and took Lily out of Finch’s arms.

“Thank you…”

“Captain.”

“Well, thank you captain. Do you need anything else?” JoJo’s voice was carefully measured as he reached out to shake the man’s hand. The man turned back towards Finch, taking out a clipboard and a pen.

“Once again, you are Patrick DaSilva-Cortes?” Finch nodded numbly; he knew that this man had business he needed to do.

“This is your place of residence and your mailing address?

Another nod. Another scribble on the clipboard.

“And you phone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx?”

Finch nodded again, now desperate for the man to leave. He had put the clipboard away and taken out a paper, which he handed to Finch.

“That paper has more information, as well as the contact information for your casualty area command. A casualty assistance officer will contact you sometime in the next 24 hours to arrange another visit. Please do not make arrangements for his remains until you have been fully briefed by them.”

Casualty. Remains. All words that now described his Albert. The man stood up from his chair, taking a deep breath before addressing Finch one final time.

“Mr. DaSilva-Cortes, I must be returning to Stuttgart. Again, on behalf of the Secretary of the Army, please accept the United States Army's deepest condolences.”

Then he walked out the door, the other one trailing behind. Everything was silent. Silence. Finch hated silence. Albert always knew what to say. But Albert was gone.

Albert was gone.

“I’m just gonna, y’know.” JoJo looked calm somehow, still holding Lily. He went off to put her down.

“Finch, god, I don’t-“ Race’s mouth hung agape as he tried to find the right words, but Finch couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Albert will be okay. It’s just ten months. He will be fine. You promised me, Race! You promised he would be fine! You promised-“ Finch gasped before running into the bathroom, barely making it as he collapsed in front of the toilet. Race was on his tail, slamming against the door frame as he ran towards Finch.

“Shit shit shit shit shit. Do I need to call-Do I need to see if I can get that guy back here? Do you need like an ambulance?” Race was crying now, but his worry for Finch overtook anything else he was feeling. “I need Albert. I need Albert. I need Albert. I need-“ Finch was cut off by another round of violent heaving, gasping for air all the while. He couldn’t take it anymore. His skin felt too tight on his body, restricting his movement and not letting him breathe. He needed to tear it off, tear it off, tear IT-

Race’s hands covered his own, refusing to let him harm himself. “I’m calling someone, okay? JoJo has Lily, they’ll be fine together. This time I promise. I’m sorry I can’t-I just can’t.”

Race stepped out of the bathroom, pulling out his phone. Finch stayed there, hunched over the toilet, just crying. Eventually, he heard sirens. Voices. Hands on his body, lifting him up, placing him on something soft. Wires and cuffs and beeps and white. So much white. White sheets, white walls, white gowns, white ceilings, white floors. And pink. Pink? A flower. A lily.

“Uncle JoJo said you would like it.”

His Lily. Standing there. Scared.

“Where’s papa?”

Oh. JoJo stepped into his vision, followed closely by Race. His voice was soft, as if they were all glass that could shatter.

“We told you, honey. He’s-“ Finch could here JoJo take a deep breath, with Race saying something to him quietly.

“He’s gone, honey.”

“But when is he coming back? He said he would come back. Why won’t he come back?”

She was crying now, far too young for this tragedy. JoJo picked her up, muttering an apology as he left. Race sat down next to Finch’s bed, taking one of his hands. They stayed there for a while until a nurse came in a said that Race had to go. All the white turned to black as Finch slipped into unconsciousness.

He dreamt of Albert, sitting on the docks in Brooklyn. He dreamt of Albert, dancing in the rain. He dreamt of Albert lying in their bed, holding their daughter. Don’t go, he tried to say. Don’t leave, it’s not worth it. But Albert couldn’t hear him. More scenes of him passed by. Albert swimming, eating ice cream, watching tv, reading a book, playing with Lily at the playground. The day he asked Albert out, the day Albert proposed, the day of their wedding, the day they brought Lily home from the hospital. Their whole life together, blurred together through time. When Finch woke up, he was crying.

The funeral was hard. Hell, everything was hard. Lily was trying her best to understand, and Race and JoJo were trying their best to help them. They helped Finch tell the rest of their friends. Jack, Davey, Les, Sarah, Katherine, Crutchie, Romeo, Elmer, Buttons, Mush, Specs, Tommy, Mike, Ike, and Spot were all at the funeral. Finch tried to say something, he really did. Thankfully, Race had his back and gave the speech instead. He was glad when the whole thing was over. He just wanted to go back home.

Race and JoJo, bless them, stood by Lily and Finch for the rest of their lives. Slowly, they all learned to heal. Support groups, therapy, time. Some days were harder than others. Albert’s birthday, and their wedding anniversary. Those were days when Finch couldn’t get out of bed, days when Lily cried simply because her dad did. But time passed, no matter how slowly it did.

On Lily’s 18th birthday, there was a video. Something Finch had never thought they would have use for, but something that he had convinced Albert to make just in case. The sight of Albert’s face was enough to bring tears to their eyes, and the sound of his voice almost made Finch turn the tape off. But he didn’t.

“Hey, Lilybug. Happy 18th birthday! I hope you never have to see this, and I’m sorry if you do. I bet you’ve grown quite a lot, now! I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there every day. Hopefully, you’ve been good for Father Finch there. I wish I could see who you’ve grown up to be. I hope you know I’m proud of you, regardless of whatever has happened. I love you!”

As Albert leaned in to turn off the camera, Finch could see the tears in his eyes. He was crying now, and Lily was too. He tried to apologize, but she wouldn’t let him. As he hugged her tightly, she just whispered “Thank you.”

And 35 years later, as Finch laid in his hospital bed with his daughter by his side, all he could think about was finally seeing Albert again.

“I’ll see you soon, huh?” Finch laughed a little. “I’ll see you soon.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tysm for reading! hope this wasn't too shit

#albert dasilva #finch cortes #finch newsies #racetrack higgins #jojo de la guerra #jojo newsies #newsies #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #redfinch

16 notes · View notes

bigmack2go · 11 months ago

Text

Newsies as Things my friend and me have said bc im shocked i haven’t done this yet

Sarah: THIS!

Sarah: *points at tailor doll*

Sarah: this is the reason i‘m into women!

(Sarah *in a whispered sob*: my hand fits her waist so perfectly….)

Race after getting one single question wrong: if you’re alowed to be dumb, so am i

Albert *shocked*: why is there no crossover of „sing“ and „zootopia??“

Albert: i mean—… NOT EVEN A FANFICTION!

Jack: there are very few names that are acceptable for sausage dogs

Jack *clears throat*….

Jack: NUMBER ONE—

Race:*wakes up david from his much needed afternoon nap*

Race: do u ever mix up the feeling of attraction with the one of jealousy???

Les: so if harry potter is an otter—

Les: and ron weasly is a weasle….

Les: whats hermione??

Albert: anyone else ever wonder how it would go if henry danger went to hogwarts?

Davey (in the middle of a conversation about hotdogs or smt): is there a place where you can give emoji suggestions??

Hotshot: what are you doing?

Autistic!Spot *squatting*: i need to make sure these pants don’t give me over sensory issues

Race: i dont get hyperfixations

Albert: you— you litteraly memorised Hamilton

Race: IT WAS TO KEEP MY BRAIN IN FORM

Katherine: why is it, whenever i find someone hot, they get a haircut???

Albert: SHUT UP YOU LITTLE— YOU LITTLE… i can’t think of an insult but imagine something thats really bad just so you know i am in fact very mad

(Race: woah who would have thought i’d live to see the day albert dasilva isn’t able to think of an insult)

Albert: ok but like… the characterbuilding of pawpatrol is like,,, really fucking good

Albert: like that shit deserves an oscar

Spot: did it hurt when you fell—

Race (litterally from down on the floor): when i fell from heaven?

Spot: no when you-

Race: when i fell for you?

Spot: RACE YOU JUST F E L L OF THE STAIRS

Jack: ah where did i put my crutchie?

Jack: GAYS HAS ABYONE SEEN MY CRUTCHIE?

Jack: damnit why do i keep losing i— ahhh there it is!

Elmer: ask for forgiveness, not permission

Hotsot: *sighs exasperated while watching elmer proceed to pull out a baloon sword with a genuinely evil look on his face*

Jack: you ever notice how you can deescalate literally any situation by [doing smt] as long as the situation is right?

Davey: *blinks* what?

Smalls: soooo i think i may or may not have just accidentally invented backwards stealing

Jack: ugh! Nephew, grandson! Wheres the difference, really??

Jack: i just stepped on my painting

Jack: haha! Look at those cute lil paint pawprints on the floor

Jack:

Jack: wait why do my feet make pawshaped pawprints???

Davey: thats it. Im done. I quit.

Elmer: quit what?

Davey:

Davey: life.

Spot: im trying to work on my anger issues

Albert: you literally just punched somebody

Spot: and it made me less angry

Mrs Kirby: buttons what are you doing here? This isn’t your classroom

Buttons (shamelessly): avoiding my teacher hopefully for another….

Buttons (squinting at the clock):

Buttons (happy as ever): 36 minutes!

Graves: my bf is being homophobic

Hotshot: youre single???

Graves: exactly!!

Davey: i may be antisocial but im still a socialist

Albert: spot, if i dropped dead here and now and race wasn’t there to witness that you didn’t murder me, what would you do with my body?

Spot: bold of u to assume I didn’t murder u

Spot: or need race as a witness

Spot: or—

Albert: OKAY I GET IT

Albert *putting on creme-deodorant*:

Jack: is this hair wax you’re putting under your arms???

Albert:…

Albert: yes.

Albert: it blocks the sweat glands.

Jack: *proceeds to go on about a ten minute speech about how tiktok spreads false information and life hacks*

Race: ow ow ow ow

Spot: what?

Race: i put on the wrong glasses

Spot: race w h a t

Albert: im a left handed green eyed ginger and thats not even the worst part—

Race: there are four types of people.

Race: watch.

Race: *shoves crutchie so he falls*

Jack: *gasps and runs to fight race*

Davey: *gasps and runs to help crutchie*

elmer: *gasps and laughs at crutchie*

Albert: *gasps and laughs at race*

Race: see

Race: *the most satisfied hes beenin his life*

No one:

Absolutely no one:

On this entire planet no one:

smalls *giving b i r t h*: ow ouch ow ah- yeah that does in fact hurt, owowow

21 notes · View notes

clevereverest · 1 year ago

Text

Newsies Headcanon Collection!!

Chatting with the pretty cool @asexualbert and I wanted to share an apparently long list of my own headcanons, focusing on Race, Spot, Albert, and Finch :D

(+ Some concepts have been written about in my fics, while others are things I’ve never gotten to share before, which is exciting!)

- Modern AU Heights: Race 6’1” / Finch 6’0” / Albert 5’9” / Spot 5’6” (generous, I know, but Race is still 7 inches taller so it’s all good)

- Since I specified modern, the canon era: I firmly believe that Race and Albert would be the exact same height (maybe 5’10”) and argue constantly about who’s taller

- Still on that ^ Finch would be taller and Spot would be shorter, both settling the constant debates

- Race and Al are amazing cooks separately but doing it together is a recipe (ha) for disaster. Spot is a decent cook and Finch literally just sucks at it, poor guy. Good thing he has people very very willing and eager to teach him!

- Race plays sudoku because I say so (and literally wrote a fic about it….)

- Finch and Albert have a perfect sleep schedule. Finch got the preset circadian rhythm when he was young and when the two of them met, Albert’s body just kinda copied it.

- ^ Al doesn’t mind it too much, but thinking about it now, I imagine it being so abrupt. One night he’s staying up until 4 am with Race, the next he’s passed out cold by midnight and fully awake by 7 the next morning. It confuses him deeply. Then he finds out he can have Finch’s attention all to himself for a while every morning and he’s totally onboard with the change.

- ^ Also on sleep, Race practically has insomnia (bro has it rough) and Spot sleeps at mostly reasonable times but can stay up with Race if want/need be

- Spot and Finch are over-thinkers and Race and Albert deflect/ignore problems

- Finch does archery (the canon era slingshot to the modern era archery pipeline, also the reincarnation AU potential here !! Personally want something with that) and can play guitar

- Albert does baseball

- Race does dance (as most fans headcanon)

- Spot probably also does baseball

- Favorite Colors: Finch, light purple / Albert, a very specific dark orange / Race, light blue / Spot, dark red

- Real Names: Race and Spot are the usual ones / Finch = Adrian Cortez / Albert = just Albert DaSilva but he kinda hates the “old-timey-ness” of his first name (it’s a family name). He prefers to go by Sam around strangers/authority figures, short for Samuel (middle name).

- Finch comes from a rich family, he’s the “heir to the Cortez line” but hates the snobby sounding title (and he might have a twin brother sometimes). I heard this once in a random fic and ran with it.

- Albert has like 5-6 siblings, and I’m not sure if I’d place him right in the middle or the youngest

- Race is Italian. His family is huge. He has several sisters, no (blood) brothers.

- Honestly, I’ve never settled on Spot’s family :/

- Spot knows fluent French, Finch basically knows fluent Spanish, and Albert just listens to his friends and boyfriend speak in foreign tongues :)

- Oh and if it wasn’t clear, the relationships are Spot/Race and Albert/Finch. In my mind, every other pairing is platonic and likely brotherly too.

- Race and Spot have a fascination with each other’s eyes, specifically when the sun shines on them. They just kinda gaze lovingly when it happens <3

- Spot also adores the sound of Race’s laugh

- Finch loves it when Albert calls him by nicknames (listed below), he likes the sweet intimacy of it. Albert tends to just randomly watch Finch; he zones out and suddenly Fi is smiling all amused at him and isn’t that the greatest sight?

- Finch and Race both love reading, hardcovers and audiobooks respectively (taking Race’s preference from @ asexualbert)

- ^ Albert can’t say no to Finch getting new books because “He looks so goddamn happy, I don’t want him to be sad by saying no”.

- ^ Spot just has this issue where he physically cannot say no to Race’s pout — it’s a real issue sometimes. And “He keeps excitedly showing me all these books that he wants and I refuse to say no because then he’ll stop smiling and I’d rather that not be the case”.

- Albert and Spot are warm-bodied, the perfect pairs to cold-bodied Finch and Race

- In modern era, Finch, Albert, and Race are besties and Spot, Mush, and JoJo are besties, and there is often overlap between the groups (this may or may not tie into my multichapter fic…)

- Cute Nicknames!! Race calls Spot just Conlon, dumbass /aff, darling, and innamorato: Italian term of endearment for boyfriend (I’ve used it in fics and no one has corrected me so I’m assuming it’s right)

- ^ Spot calls Race just Higgins, dumbass /aff, love, and the other twenty billion names you can make out of “Racetrack” and “Antonio”

- ^ Finch calls Albert just Al, asshole /aff, sweetheart

- ^ Albert calls Finch just Fi, asshole /aff, and bub

ALRIGHT I’M CALLING IT!!! Let me know your thoughts on my personal headcanons, I’d love to chat and compare ideas :D

#newsies #headcanon #livesies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #sprace #albert dasilva #finch cortez #redfinch #this was so much fun #had wayyyy more than I thought tbh #but to reiterate from earlier #they live in my head rent free

44 notes · View notes

sparkedblaze · 2 years ago

Text

Hi here's all my favorite things about Livesies as I watch it

92sies

This is fsfs gonna be part 1 of 2 or 3

T/W violence, cursing, ets

The Overture. It plays all these semi-familiar tunes from 92sies with a little funky freshness to it and I love it sm

THE FUCKING PROJECTIONS AHAHHHHH

CRUTCHIE BEING THE ONLY OTHER NEWSIE (BESIDES ALBERT) WITH A BACKWARDS HAT

"I ain't been walkin' so good" 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

"Doyawannabustyaothalegtoo?!" "Uh.. no I wanna go down."

"Ya seein' stars alright."

Their accents and over acting are amazing

A big life in a small town SUCKS Jackson Kelly

Heh heh

*waves hand in front of Crutchie's eyes*

CRUTCHIE ACTUALLY CLOSING HIS EYES AND HIS LIL SMILE WHILE HE'S IMAGINING SANTA FE

DID I MENTION THE PROJECTIONS

yA RIDe it inStyLE FEACHA ME RIDIN IN STILE

"WORK THE LAND CHASE THE SUN SWIM THE W H O L E R I O G R A N D E JUST FOR FUUUUN"

"WATCH ME STAND😄 Watch me run 😀 🙁"

"hey HEY"

THE IDEA THAT THE PROLOGUE IS ACTUALLY A PROLOGUE I THINK IT'S @raggedy-albert 'S HC

RACETRACK MOTHERFUCKING HIGGINS

ALBERT FUCKING DASILVA

"A leg of lamb 🥰"

R A L B E R T

FINCH

BEN COOK SKY FLAHERTY IAIN YOUNG JOSH BURRAGE

MUSH'S HOP LOOKING FOR HIS HAT

MIKE AND IKE TRADING HATS

CRUTCHIE SHINING HIS CRUTCH

BUTTONS' HAND MOVEMENT ON 'FISHES'

JACK NUDGING SMALLS ON 'FISHES'

IAIN YOUNG'S LIL RAT BOY FACE

'Step aside Romeo nothin more concerns u here'

Poisonally

Kath's sass

Darcy pretending he's straight

"I'M CRUSHED"

"Gonna rain?" "Uuuuhhhhhh..... No rain oh-ho partlycloudyclearbyevenin"

"BLIND" "AND MUTE" "AND DEAD"

Jack taking Finch's slingshot

Flip

Tommy's lil hops

"I LIKES LIVIN CHANCEY"

ELMER AND BUTTONS TAKING OFF THEIR HATS WHEN THE NUNS SHOW UP

"I dunno Sister, but it's bound to rain soon'a o' lat'a!"😃

BEN COOK

ANTHONY ZAS

NICK MASSON

JOSH BURRAGE

SKY FLAHERTY

IAIN YOUNG

CHAZ WOLCOTT

AND ALL THE OTHERS WHO I DON'T REMEMBER THE NAMES OF THE ACTORS

Everyone hopping to give their cups back

"I DO TOOOOO SO IT MUST ME TRUUUUUE WHAT A SWITCH, SOON WE'LL ALL BE RICH DON'T KNOW A BETTER WAY TO MAKE A NEWSIES DAYYY"

Their entire lil dancey dance right here

Elmer offended at being whacked with hat

"GOTAFEELINBOUTAHEADLINEISMELLSMEAHEADLINEPAPESAREGONNASELLLIKEWEWASGIVINEMAWAYBETCHADINNERITSADOOZYBOUTAPISTOLPACKINFLOOZYDONTKNOWANYBETTERWAYTOMAKEANEWSIESDAYIWASSTAKINOUTTHECIRCUSANDTHENSOMEONESAIDTHATCONEYSREALLYHOTBUTWHENIGOTTHERETHEREWASSPOTWITHALLHISCRONIESYOIMGONNATAKEWHATLITTLEDOUGHIGOTANDPLAYTHEPONIESWEATLEASTDESERVESAHEADLINEFORTHEHOURSTHATTHEYWORKUSJEEZIBETIFIJUSTSTAYEDALITTLELONGERATTHECIRCUS"

Finch finger guns

Jack taking Finch's hat

Smalls diving under Finch's leg

Finch's face right before they say 'yeah!'

Whatever Al's face is doing ever

*disappointment*

Romeo waving like the little bean he is

"WATCH IT"

"It's honest woik"

"AINCHA FADDA ONE O THA STRIKAS"

Albert and Racer

Ralbert

Whack whack

The Delanceys running into each other

Morris hopping from steps

Everyone getting their bags

ALBERT PUT YOUR FUCKING HAT ON

Big smiles everyone, we just finished the first big number Race: :O

Davey trying to slow Les

"I'll call ya sweetheart if you spot me 50 papes"

"I'M NEW TOO"

Albert, to Jojo: Yo check this shit out. Watch what I'm about to do to this bitch "YOU HAVE A VERRRRY INTERESTING FACE. EVER THOUGHT ABOUT GETTIN' INTO MOVIN' PITCHAS?!"

"BUY A TICKET THEY LET ANYONE IN"

*Does not pay*

Everyone's face when they laugh at Jack making fun of Oscar

"The faymus Jack Kelly"

Ben Cook's dumbass socks

Jack's "holy fuck he can do math" face

Specs laughing at Jack's reaction to Les knowing math

"That's disgusting"

W i b b l e

Specs never using stairs properly

Albert riding in on Pulitzer's desk

FOOTBALL? *whack* VIOLENT? *whack*

"Guess what? He got elected." *runs*

Nunzio.

My roommate and I accidentally mashing cut and slit like twice and so now we say slut instead of either

"-like an army that's marching to war." I mean... He wasn't wrong

Has anyone noticed how similar Hannah and Kath look?

BIG STEP BIG STEP BIG STEP

"buy a pape from a poor orphan boy" *cough cough*

"BORN TO THE BREED"

"THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN SCHOOL" "This kid"

Racetrack hawkin in the background and bolting when Snyder comes

"Doesn't everyone?"

ALL THE CONTINUITY ERRORS IN MEDDA'S THEATER. THE BOYS GOING FROM NEWSIES TO FAKE MUSTACHE MEN AND BACK

LOVEY DOVEY BABY PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND

Jack saying pocket with the same intensity that Draco Malfoy says Potter

MEDDA FUCKING LARKIN

"The only thing I own is the mortgage"

"ARE YOU BLIND SHE GOT NO CLOTHES ON"

The look Jack and Davey share when Medda says she knows the governor

"YOU PICTURED THAT?!"

"Take it easy, it's a bunch of trees."

"Jeez! I never knew no one with a aptitude!"

"I AM?! HOW 'M I DOIN'?!"

'I'm better than you' the song

Jack's lil figure 8 dance with just his head

"And prayers from the Pope"

Devin Lewis as Jack for like two scenes.

"AND. MY. BANK."

Watching Jack recognize Katherine

"Why don't you go find out?" 👀

"You want I should lock the door"

"Doin what?"

It's hard to like a whole lot about the scenes where they're flirting bc Kath is so outwardly uncomfy with it

And also they're both simps for Jacobses

*two finger point*

"sOrry mIss mEddA"

Jack's hesitation before he starts singing

"Girls are nice, once or twice, til I find someone new" You bisexual pining bitch

Does anyone know who does the actual sketch?

T H E P R O J E C T I O N

"-and you lie like a rug!"

"What are you doing?!"

"Hey-hey quiet down there's a show goin' on!"

"Shhhhhhhhh"

"Everr"

HAT TIP AND SMIRK AS JACK IS CLIMBING DOWN

MIKE AND IKE GIVING OFF THE MAJOREST SIBLING EVERGY

"Sirens is like lullabies to me."

DELANCEY DEVASTATION AT "they've got a mother" THEY'RE SO TRASH AND HURT I LOVE THEM

"He traded her for a box o' cigars!" "HEY THEY WAS CORONAS"

"Ain't we the hoi polloi!"

"Ask me after they put up the headline"

"Is that news?" "ITISTOME"

Romeo. R O M E O

"I ain't payin' no sixty."

DEUS SPECS MACHINA

BAMBAM "C'mere fellas"

Henry's pose as he says "AIN'T WE GOT NO RIGHTS?!"

IK THAT EVERYONE SAYS TOMMY LOOKS DOWN BC HE'S CONFUSED WHEN JACK SAYS 'WOULD YOU KEEP YOUR SHIRT ON' BC HE'S WEARING A SHIRT YADDA YADDA BUT HE'S NOT THAT'S HIS UNDERSHIRT. SO HE'S CONFUSED BC HIS SHIRT IS ALREADY OFF. BACK IN THOSE TIMES BEING IN JUST YOUR UNDERSHIRT, YOU MAY AS WELL HAVE NO SHIRT. THX FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

LES SHOVING PEOPLE

Crutchie desperately trying to hop to keep up

Jojo and Elmer.

"Hey Jack you still thinkin?" "Sure he is. Can't ya smell smoke?"

(I'm out of character limits so this is part 1)

#my favorite things about newsies #my favorite livesies things #newsies #livesies

57 notes · View notes

possoms-are-cool123 · 4 days ago

Text

What if

youtube

But these two

Just thoughts

#newsies broadway #newsies musical #livesies #newsies live #race newsies #racetrack higgins #albert newsies #albert dasilva #waitress #waitress the musical #Youtube #hehe... Imagine liking newsboys...

18 notes · View notes

ao3feed-newsies · 6 months ago

Text

Youve got brothers around youre a family man (except sometimes its a different family then you thought)

by, V3ry_C0nfus3d by V3ry_C0nfus3d This wasn’t uncommon territory for him - both the fighting and the fact that it’s a Latino boy who *wants* to fight him - but he doesn’t feel like fighting today (how weird - around a month ago if he’d come face-to-face with this guy me might’ve socked him in the face. Times really do change). “I ain’t sellin’ - I’m here for the races.” The boy doesn’t seem like he actually believes him - but his eyes rake up and down Race’s body - studying him. Searching him for any possible papes that he could be selling - papes that if he sold he'd be taking money and customers from the boys here in Brooklyn. --- Racetrack is starting to get used to his new life - and he's starting to make new friends too. Amongst them is Spot Conlon - the head of the Brooklyn Newsies, and before a month ago a boy that Race doesn't imagine he would've talked to. Words: 4000, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Racerack Higgins - the Jet turned Newsie Fandoms: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, West Side Story (2021) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Other Characters: Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Jack Kelly (Newsies), Spot Conlon, The Jets (West Side Story), - mentioned, Mouthpiece (West Side Story), Specs (Newsies), Tony (West Side Story), The Sharks (West Side Story) - mentioned, Riff (West Side Story), mentioned - Character Relationships: Spot Conlon & Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva & Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins & The Newsies, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, if you squint Additional Tags: Racetrack Higgins and Mouthpiece are the same person, Mouthpiece's real name was Harvey Rustîcso, that's now Racetrack's name too, We're gonna fix the racism in this fandom, the jets and sharks are only mentioned a little bit, I'm sorry but I refuse to like Riff until he stops being racist, same with the rest of the Jets, Racetrack STOPS BEING RACIST YAY, we are IGNORING THE PLOT OF WEST SIDE STORY, we might acknowledge the plot of Newsies a little bit (if later fics are made), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, West Side Story x Newsies, Newsies/West side story crossover, Newsies x West Side Story, Spot and Race can be read as gay if you want them to be, headcanoned Spot as Latino before this but ig it's pretty useful in this fic, Italian Racetrack Higgins, Hispanic Spot Conlon, bad romance writer, so sometimes it might just look like a rlly homoerotic friendship, im aro and havent been in a relationship, im trying my hardest here people read : https://ift.tt/1cvi0FM - July 04, 2024 at 11:43AM

#AO3feed #newsies #fanfic #newsies fanfic

1 note · View note

metallicmikus · 7 days ago

Text

okay i’m gonna explain my little au here

the best way i can explain this is that it’s a 5sos au? like if 5sos were a fictional band and a few newsies replace them. Cuz 5sos is the kind of band i imagine. So i’m gonna call this ‘newsies 5sos au’.

i did that cuz i like 5sos’s dynamic as a band and as friends and the evolution of their personal style and music style.

and i want to draw them like as they would be in 2014 and then also now. if that makes sense?

but anyway the au

the luke hemmings (lead singer & guitarist) of the group: Antonio ‘Racetrack’ Higgins

race’s got the similar pretty boy look that luke has and give off that front man vibe

the michael clifford (lead guitarist & vocals) of the group: Patrick ‘Finch’ Cortez

finch is fun loving but passionate and gives that lead guitarist energy

the calum hood (bassist & vocals) of the group: Theo ‘Specs’ Davis

specs is an underrated newsie and calum is an underrated band member. plus calum is not white, so it felt wrong to have the newsie that is him in the au be white

the ashton irwin (drummer & vocals) of the band: Albert DaSilva

arms

anywaysss i will draw the others later i’m just very sleepy rn

DRUMMER ALBERT DASILVA ‼️‼️

he and the front man of the band, race, flirt on stage all the time and fans are suspicious

#newsies #newsies broadway #newsies live #newsies au #newsies band au #newsies 5sos au #5sos #5 seconds of summer

88 notes · View notes

bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Carrying the Banner Chapter 15: New Memories- Albert DaSilva x Gemma Hayes

Word Count: 1.7k

Five Years Later

Albert huffed softly as he set down the last set of boxes in the new house. He stepped back and admired the space around them with a smile. He was quite different from the boy he was before, he had graduated to full length pants and nicely fitted shirts that he still wore rolled up onto his arms. His hair wasn’t quite so long and messy and his face was clean. He sets his hands on his hips as he looks around with pride.

“Well, this is quite the space,” he said aloud, glancing at Gemma for her approval. The woman, who had been sitting in the living room while in the process of sorting which boxes went to which room, looked at him with a small smile.

Like Albert, she’d also grown and matured in the last few years. She allowed her hair to grow out a bit as she no longer had to worry about people like Morris Delancey pulling on it to mess with her, and she’d moved on from constantly wearing pants to wearing skirts. She wasn’t a newsie anymore, but one of the librarians at the local library when she and Albert weren’t working on an article for the paper they worked at, which was what allowed them to be able to afford to move into a space of their own.

“It’s amazing,” she agreed wholeheartedly. Even if the house itself was small, she knew that it would be filled with joy and love, just like she’d always wanted.

The man walked over to her, taking a moment to admire her quietly. He couldn’t help but remember the rowdy girl he grew up with, and how much they had both grown from the times where he would hang backwards off the edge of the bed while they laughed and talked for hours. He smiled softly and ran a hand through his copper hair to get it back into place.

“I told you we’d get out of that place eventually,” he joked. “All I can hope is that it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“It’s better than anything I could have dreamed of,” she laughed softly as she stood, wrapping her arms around his middle. That simple touch almost felt nostalgic to her. It was the only way she used to hug him when she was younger rather than wrap her arms around his neck when they were a little older. Her smile widened at the memories they had and the ones she knew they would make in that house.

“How do you like it?” Rather than answer at first Albert cupped her face gently with both hands. His eyes reflected nothing but love and affection for the woman in front of him. A small blush dawned on his cheeks, something that didn’t happen too often anymore, and he nodded.

“I love it. It feels like it was made for us, like it was just waiting for us,” he said, trying to articulate the words. “Like home.” His conclusion was sealed off with a nod. He felt himself growing emotional and sappy, which he didn’t want just yet.

“And the bed is so big!” He laughed out. Gemma giggled and shook her head amusedly before leaning up to peck his lips. No matter how much she’d grown, she would always be shorter than him

“That it is,” she agreed, voice laced with amusement while her eyes held nothing but fondness and affection for the man in front of her. The man dropped his hands for a moment, leaning over her to turn on some music on their phonograph. He wanted nothing more than to share their space and appreciate the woman that made him the man he is. He looked back down at her and laughed softly.

“I’m sure you’ll still find a way to take up space,” he joked, tucking some stray hair behind her ear with a loving grin. “Gosh your hair is getting so long.” The woman giggled and sort’ve leaned into his touch. It had always been a source of comfort to her, and she knew it always would be.

“I’m thinking of growing it out,” she mentioned, running her fingers through the back of her hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever done it, and I’ve always wanted to know what I looked like with long hair.” Albert pressed a kiss to the top of her head before smiling down at her, beginning to sway slightly to the music.

“It looks beautiful. You’re just so beautiful I can’t wait to wake up every morning with you by my side.” he mumbled, running his thumb over her cheek and earning a blush from the woman, before continuing jokingly. “And you’ve gotten so good at cooking, I have something to look forward to every morning. You make the best dinners in Manhattan.” Gemma laughed softly.

“Yeah, I think I’ve gotten a little better since our striking days,” she half joked as she swayed with him.

“A little bit,” he laughed out, taking her hand and giving her a slow twirl. “I’m proud of you. William was just telling me how much he enjoyed reading our latest article, you really blow me away sometimes.”

“Oh please, you’re the one that reported it, I just helped with the finer details” she brushes off with a small laugh. “Your notes on it did all the work for me. You’ve always been so detailed, it’s amazing.” A quiet chuckle left the man’s lips as he shook his head at her. She would never not be humble.

“Really, I mean it, the work you do means the world to me,” he muttered as he continued to sway to the music, humming softly afterwards. He found himself in that moment remembering his confession of love to Gemma, how she had told him to stop joking around with her and how he almost took it back out of embarrassment. He laughed softly, almost tearing up at the fond memory. He had been so terrified to say those words for the first time but now he couldn’t stop saying them.

“I love you, Gem,” he mumbled.

“I love you too, Al,” Gemma all but whispered, smiling up at him. “More than anything in this world.” The man leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then pulled back, admiring her once more. He let out a small sigh as a wild smile grew across his face in consideration of a new thought that had popped into his head.

He had bought the ring a few months back and every day he had slipped it into his pants pocket in search of the right time. He had initially intended for a larger event of a proposal, a public event or a party, but in this moment, looking down at her as she smiled up at him, he knew that it was the right time. He took a deep breath, remembering how nervous he was to first confess his love and trying not to feel that way again, instead trying to find comfort in the words she had just spoken.

“Can I ask you a question, Gem?” He asked softly.

“Of course,” she nodded, none the wiser to his internal debate, her brows furrowing as her gaze became curious. “Is everything okay?” Albert nodded and squeezed her hands assuredly, he was definitely nervous but confident in his decision.

“These past few years we’ve grown so much together. The moment we met we were just- attached at the hip. Even after we fell head over heels for each other you continue to be my best friend. My confidant. Every day I’m so grateful for the little things you do, your laugh, the way you hold my hand with your thumb under mine, the way you wake me up with breakfast, your eyes, your smile. All of it just makes my heart so full,” He started, beginning to tear up as he took a knee. He pulled a small, humble ring box out of his pocket while his free hand continued to hold hers.

“I had meant to do this at a different time, with people around, in a different place but looking at you tonight- I just knew that now was the right time,” he continued as he opened the box to reveal the shimmering ring. “I would be the luckiest man in the world to share the rest of my life with you, Gemstone. Will you marry me?” He looked up at her with the most loving smile as he finished speaking, tears running down his face.

Gemma, meanwhile, hadn’t even realized she’d begun crying until she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing as joy coursed through her. The hand that held his gave it three squeezes (a sign of ‘I love you’ between them) and laughed tearfully as she nodded frantically.

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “God yes, I’ll marry you Albert.” She laughed joyfully as she let go of his hand in favor of cupping his cheek to kiss him where he still sat on one knee, having to bend down to kiss him for the first time in her life.

Albert sniffled, cupping her face as they kissed. All of the memories of their childhood were flooding through his head and he was nothing but overjoyed to have the chance to continue to create memories with her for the rest of his life. He pulled away after a moment and used the back of his hand to wipe some tears off of his face, then slipped the ring onto her finger with ease. He then jumped up to swoop her into his arms, spinning around and showering her in kisses.

Gemma squealed in both surprise and delight as she held onto him. She attempted to pepper in kisses between his own kisses, but she ended up just bursting into a fit of giggles as she used one hand to wipe away her tears. The man set her down and sighed in content, wiping away some of her tears with his thumb.

“You deserve the whole universe,” he muttered with a huge smile.

“I don’t need it if I have you,” she responded simply, his smile infectious enough that she was also smiling. “I love you so much, Albert DaSilva.” Rather than answer Albert leaned her down in a dip, just as he’d done in the rain all those years ago, and kissed her sweetly. After so many years of yearning, they were finally getting all they ever wanted with each other.

#newsies #newsies live #newsies imagine #albert dasilva #albert dasilva imagine #albert dasilva x oc

0 notes

heliads · 3 years ago

Text

No Charity

Based on this request: "reader is attacked by Oscar and Morris and the Newsies find her and take her back to the Lodging House where they look after her until she gets better and then she starts working as a newsie. Oh and a Albert x Reader please!"

masterlist

You aren’t entirely sure how you know it, but you swear someone is following you.

Perhaps it’s the strange feeling scraping at the back of your neck, the odd sensation that someone is watching you even when you duck in and out in the crowd. Or, it could be the shadow that persistently dogs your heels; it isn’t yours, but it could be, what from the way it never seems to leave your side.

Regardless, you’re not alone. You’ve spent enough time in this godless city, scratching and stealing to make a living, to know that when someone pays attention to you, it’s no good at all. The only thing you can think of to do is to shake your stalker before it’s too late, or before thoughts of what ‘too late’ could mean rise to your mind.

You take a few hurried turns, backtrack your steps a few times, but nothing works. As time passes and you swear your follower is getting closer, you start to panic. You’ve been pacing through a crowded market square for the past half hour or so, but all of a sudden the throngs of people feel less like shields and more like fences designed to hem you in.

You manage to find a way out of their stifling eyes, but you know from the second you flee the madding crowd that you’ve made a mistake. A hand latches onto your arm, pulling you into an alley before you can think to scream. It wouldn’t matter if you did, anyway- street rats don’t get saved. No one would listen to the cries of a malnourished, lonely kid, they’d just pull their expensive clothes closer about them and hope that you shut up quickly.

Your feet slow from where they’re being dragged behind you, and you realize that your kidnapper has stopped moving. You wrest your arm from his grasp, but it’s too late. The mouth of the alleyway is much too far to risk a sprint for safety, and besides, someone’s blocking the way out just in case.

You realize now that you haven’t been followed by one boy, but two. You’ve seen these gangly thugs around the Manhattan streets before, and know them by name: Oscar and Morris Delancey. They’d beat up strikers as soon as street kids such as yourself if it gave them an extra dime. Right now, they’re eyeing you like you’re their ticket to an evening meal.

You keep your voice level. They’ve never troubled you before, other than a few leering glances directed where you’d rather not mention, so you harbor the admittedly foolhardy hope that they’ve got the wrong person.

“What do you want?” You ask, and they laugh. Their voices sound like a sharp grating of rocks, the crush of cobblestone beneath a horse’s hoof.

“Word on the street has it that you were stealing pennies out of a banker’s pocket. He’s funding us to stop you before you try it again.”

Your brow furrows. This isn’t entirely wrong, but the banker deserved it. He wouldn’t miss a dollar or two from his pocket, not when it could buy you weeks of food.

“Alright, then. I’ll leave him alone. Now let me go.”

Morris scoffs. “You think we’re idiots?”

He continues on quickly before you can say yes. “The only way scum like you learn your place is when you’re in enough pain to remember who you are.”

He and Oscar brandish their fists at you, and you realize that you won’t be getting out of this without a few bruises.

Despite the worsening odds, you still feel your lips curl. “And how do scum like you two learn your place? By getting your asses kicked time and time again?”

Oscar glares at you, lunging forward. You manage to duck his first punch, but you can’t fight two boys, not forever. Your fighting style up until this point has consisted of two steps: one, don’t get caught, and two, run whenever possible.

Seeing as it’s too late to avoid this conflict, you opt for the second approach, and make a quick dive for the alley exit. Morris sees your eyes dart towards the main road and grabs your arm again, so hard he’s sure to leave a bruise.

“If you stay still, this won’t hurt much.” He says through a mouth full of bared teeth.

You manage to kick him hard in the shin, and he grimaces in pain, although it only serves to make his next punch even harder.

A voice from behind him, though, makes both boys still.

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.”

Oscar and Morris turn in unison to see a crowd of three or four boys spilling into the alley, rolling up their sleeves in preparation for a fight. You recognize them from their matching caps, as well as the bags of newspapers tossed in a corner. These are the Manhattan newsies, although you have no idea what they’re doing here.

Morris doesn’t seem to like it, though. “Get lost, Jack. This isn’t your fight.”

The lead boy, who must be Jack, just laughs. “What, you pickin’ on a girl in our streets isn’t my fight? It isn’t yours either.”

Oscar and Morris exchange glances, then Morris tosses your arm to the ground. “Fine, have it your way. I wouldn’t want to dirty my fists by tossing blows at you anyway.”

The Delanceys scamper off into the darkness, leaving the newsies to tentatively approach you. Jack offers you a hand, and after a moment, you take it and let him help you up.

Jack grins, glad you’ve decided to trust him. “I’se Jack, by the way. These fine fellows are Race, Jojo, and Specs. Sorry about that, we thought we had an eye on Oscar and Morris but they got away before we could track ‘em down.”

The boy Jack referred to as Specs steps forward. “Those cuts don’t look great. Say, you want to come back to our lodging house to get those looked at?”

Jack nods. “That’s a good idea, actually. What do you say?”

You consider this, then shrug. It’s not like you have anywhere else to be. “Sounds good to me.”

You don’t know what you expected from the newsies, especially considering the fact that you’ve never really had reason to speak to them before, but they’re surprisingly nice. A taller, cleaner boy named Davey helps you bandage your cuts, and asks you questions while he’s at it.

It’s all nice, truly. Still, the longer you stay, the more antsy you feel. You’re a self taught student in the school of watching your own back, and the longer you stay in the newsies’ place, the more it eats away at you. There are too many eyes on you, too many voices asking you things you don’t want to answer.

Eventually, you can’t take it anymore and slip away again. You know better than to leave a warm house when it’s been offered to you, but you don’t want to be the center of attention anymore. You find an empty fire escape two stories up and climb it gratefully. For a moment or two, it’s just you and the setting sun. Dusk brings with it a cold wind, which blows against your bandages.

It also brings a boy, stepping out onto your fire escape. You regard him with a raised brow, but say nothing. The boy has his newsie cap jammed backwards on his head over short cropped red hair. He stares at you for a moment, as if expecting you to greet him, then shrugs.

“Name’s Albert. I’se been told to ask if you need anything.”

You keep staring out over the city. “I don’t.”

You’re being awfully cold considering the fact that these newsboys are helping you out of nothing but the goodness of their hearts, but you don’t like feeling as if you owe them. Around here, debts tend to stack up. You don’t want to be another one of the guilty.

Albert seems to get this, though. “That’s fine with me. Figure I’ll stay out a little longer anyway.”

You glance over at him at last. “What, you down on friends and want a new one?”

He cracks a smile. “Something like that. The boys said you were fighting back against the Delanceys, which is nothing to scoff at. Maybe I want to see what you’re like so I can pick up a thing or two.”

You frown. “You want someone to teach you how to throw a punch?”

The corners of Albert’s lips twitch up. “I want a new selling partner who won’t drag me down.”

He holds out a hand, as if offering it to shake. You just stare at it.

“I’m no charity case, you know. You shouldn’t do this just because you feel bad for someone who nearly got beat up in an alley.”

Albert shrugs. “I’d say you actually got beat up in an alley, no nearly about it, but it’s not that. You seem cool enough, that’s all I need.”

You regard him suspiciously, but if Albert’s playing you for a fool, he gives no sign of it. At last, you sign away the last of your misgivings and shake his hand.

“Alright then, partner. When do we start?”

The next day, as it turns out, is your first day as a newsie. You’re half expecting Albert to conveniently forget his deal, but that next morning, he still shows up by your newly assigned bunk and waits for you to go. He shows you all the best selling places, how to shout a boring headline and twist it into something worthwhile.

The two of you get into contests as the day goes by, competing to see who can turn the worst scrap of news into a bestselling sensation. You’ve managed to hold out your streak for the past two days running, which baffles Albert. He keeps saying something about how he really should be winning because he’s been hawking papes for far longer than you, but your empty paper bags don’t lie.

You like it, you have to admit. You like being a newsie, you like hanging out with Albert. He’s frighteningly like you, as Crutchie described it one time. The two of you are just as quick to a temper, and the newsies come to respect your curled fists just as much as Albert’s.

The two of you talk, too, for long hours when no one’s out on the streets or late nights before you go to bed. He’s more than you thought, which must mean that you’re the same for him.

You can hardly remember a time before being a newsie, as if your entire life started anew the day you put on your cap for the first moment. Maybe being out here with the rest of your boys makes you feel like you’re living, really living, more than the mere survival you had to occupy your days before.

And, leaning against Albert’s shoulder one night late into the hours, when the moon’s been up for a long time but you’ve been up for longer, you realize that he feels the same way. You know it by how his hand carefully moves up to cradle yours, the soft look in his eyes whenever he turns your way.

He asks you the question about a week later, if you’d ever consider being his. You answer back that you always have been. It might be the closest you’ve ever come to the truth. In the days to follow, you face rainy afternoons and dreaded heat waves, bone chilling frosts and grizzly thunderstorms. Anything and everything that darkens a newsie’s doorstep is there for the taking.

Throughout all of it, though, you have Albert. Albert, who gives you his jacket so you can stay warm, who makes sure the two of you sell papers under the protection of a store’s sun awning. He is a blessing, your boy, and you delight in him every minute of the day. As it turns out, he feels the exact same way about you.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

#albert dasilva #albert dasilva imagines #albert dasilva x reader #albert dasilva oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live x reader #newsies live oneshot #newsies albert #newsies albert imagines #newsies albert x reader #newsies albert oneshot

103 notes · View notes

groovyzombiellama · 4 years ago

Photo

Imagine: You are Jack’s sister and you have a crush on Albert since forever, and Jack tells Albert to help you

“If it wasn’t for Jack, you would have never told me about your feelings?” Albert smiled at you, and you covered your face with your hand, feeling super embarassed that your brother actually went to your crush and told him about your feelings for him. You didn’t know what to say, and even when you thought of something you’d want to say, your voice was nowhere to be found, the only telltale sign that told Albert that your brother wasn’t lying was the fact that your face was bright red, and there was a slight hint of a smile behind your hand. So Albert took this opportunity, and approached you slowly, taking your hands in his gently, revealing your face to him. He intertwined your fingers with his and looked into your eyes, as if he was asking permission for what he wanted to do. The look in your eyes showed him your feelings and he leaned in, pressing your lips together, as butterflies erupted in your stomach.

---***---

@cokecola4211 I think I have mostly your requests in my inbox now, but still thank you for every single one, and since I don’t know the Newsies, I hope I picked the right gifs for both my previous fic and this one and it’s the characters that you requested :)

#newsies #newsies imagine #albert dasilva #albert dasilva imagines #albert dasilva x reader #kid blink #kid blink imagine #kid blink x reader

41 notes · View notes

ya-what--ya-erster · 6 months ago

Text

Albert DaSilva Likes Spot (He Swears!)

The angst train is pulling back into the station y'all

we may find a polyam relationship down the road because of this ngl

...

Albert DaSilva fucking hated Race's boyfriend Spot.

Whenever Race would ask about it, though, Albert would assure him that he liked Spot.

It didn't matter what Albert thought, anyways, because Race was happy.

It shouldn't have mattered, anyways.

It shouldn't have mattered that Albert wished it was him. He should have been the one making Race happy. He should have been the one holding Race's hand and kissing his cheek and telling him 'I love you' over and over until everyone else in the room was totally and entirely sick of it.

Albert was sick of it being Spot that got to do those things. It should be Albert.

So now here Albert was, watching Race dance around the front yard of Medda's house, because Race loved showing his best friend his dancing.

Albert loved watching, too.

"How was that?" Race asked when he was finished, taking a seat next to Albert on the front porch.

"Beautiful." Albert complimented. "I really liked the middle part."

"Thanks!" Race replied excitedly.

"You're always beautiful." Albert said cautiously.

"I like to think that my dancing always look good, so thanks."

"No, I mean... you're beautiful."

"Oh, uh. Thanks, I guess?"

A long pause in the conversation. Race was looking at Albert with a curious look on his face and Albert was looking at his feet, trying to cover his reddening face.

"I hate Spot." Albert said suddenly. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but here he was.

"I thought so. Why?"

"Because..." Albert's chest felt heavy, and he worried he might cry. He closed his eyes and let himself feel all the jealousy and anger and sadness, and then he continued. "Because he ain't right for you, Race. I am. I wish... I wish you loved me, not him. And, I try so hard to be happy for you, I really want to be happy for you and him, because you guys are happy, but... it's so hard. When you're with him, I just..." Shit, Albert was crying now. "All I can do is imagine what it would be like if you were kissing me instead of him. I'm so fucking jealous of him I could die. And you don't love me like that and never will."

Silence fell over the two, the only noise being a tractor in the distance and Albert's muffled cries.

"You really know how to make everything so much harder, don't you?" Race said bitterly. "I'm not- I love Spot. I do, okay?"

"I know. Jeez, Race, I know."

"I just need..." Race ran his fingers through his curly golden hair. "Don't talk to me right now, okay?"

"Okay." Albert whispered. Race definitely didn't hear him, though, because Race was already slamming the door of his pickup truck and starting the engine.

Spot Conlon Likes Idiots

Inspired by @lithuaniaseye 's post here

606 words

Farm kid Race written by actual farm kid Albert (hi)

...

It wasn't news that Race was a farm kid.

Race was the ultimate farm kid. He was tall, and skinny, and appeared to have no muscle at all, but he could toss you over a fence like a hay bale. He wore Twisted X shoes and faded boot cut jeans and shirts with American flags and guns on them. He carried his pocket knife around religiously, constantly fiddling with it like it was a toy. He could ride a horse, and he could try (and fail) to ride a bull in a rodeo.

He was also really gay, though, and those two things happened to not go very well together.

Not necessarily because of hate, although sometimes that did occur.

Mostly, being a gay farm boy was a problem for Race because he had a tendency to flirt with his farmer-ness.

"It's gonna work this time, Jack." Race said certainly.

"You look like you're gonna go kick his ass. Which you couldn't do, by the way. Spot's like, ten times stronger than you." Jack replied.

"I just want to ask him to come to the rodeo with us, is it really that bad?"

"What's bad is that Spot's a city kid, and you ain't, and you dress like all those homophobic shitheads over there while Spot's openly bi. Do you understand what's gonna go through his head, Racer?"

"Do you want me to paint my nails or some bullshit? I don't gotta 'look gay,' whatever that means."

"Actually. I'm gonna make a bet with you here. You're gonna ask him out, to the rodeo. If he says no, you are going to paint your nails. If he says yes, which he won't, then I will. Left on for a week. Deal?"

"No deal. If you paint your nails when ya lose, nobody will notice. You are the most obviously queer person in this room right now. If you lose, you're gonna wear my clothes for a week."

"I ain't losing, so. Sure thing."

The two boys shook on it. Race took a breath and turned to go, but...

"Oh yeah, I forgot." Race plucked a barley stalk out of the ground and stuck it in his mouth like-

"One of them damn buckle bunnies, that's what you look like right now. You look like an idiot." Jack was not having it.

"Do ya think Spot likes idiots?" Race asked absentmindedly, staring at Spot.

"You moron. Go, get it over with."

So Race marched up to Spot, loud and proud.

"Hey."

"You know, I'm just trying to have a good time, I don't need any of your bullshit today." Spot said roughly.

"I was wondering if- wait what?" Race stopped.

"So I'm bi? Deal with it."

"Ohh darn, Jack was right."

"Kelly?"

"Yeah, Kelly. He said you was gonna think that- never mind, I ain't here to bully ya or anything."

"Okay, well? What do you want, then?"

"I'm gay."

Spot looked Race up and down, then scoffed.

"Uh-huh."

"For reals."

"Alright. Good to know, bye." Spot took a step away, but Race caught him by the arm and turned him back.

"I was wondering," Race said slowly, "If maybe you would want to go to the rodeo with me tonight? Like, as a date?"

Spot pulled his arm away from Race, and Race worried for a second that he was gonna walk away with a split lip or a black eye.

"Sure thing. Let me text my Ma and let her know I'll be out late, yeah?"

...

"How do you wear this shit?" Jack asked the next day, standing before Race's full-length mirror.

"Cause I like it. And now you have to deal with it for a whole week. Enjoy! I gotta go pick Spot up for school."

...

THE END

...

hi its the author I just realized y'all city ppl probs actually don't know what a buckle bunny is so where I come from we use it to describe someone who dresses like this, or basically like anyone who looks like a fake country person. The whole wheat in the mouth thing doesn't actually happen all that often which is why it tends to fall under the buckle bunny label.

Also, I used barley instead of wheat in this for me being a farm kid purposes so

#unrequited ralbert #or is it?#Albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #newsies #newsies live #newsies farm kid AU

68 notes · View notes

ourmisadventures · 6 years ago

Text

Thousand Times // a.d. (royalty au)

the first of the royalty au i’ve been wanting to write :) its a cliche prince falling for a servant but i dont care, i love the concept and this turned out really well.

also i wrote this right after rereading kite runner, so for those of you that have read it you’ll get the reference.

---

The knock at the door comes late at night, right after she had finished with her duties for the day.

She opens the door, the boy slipping in quickly and quietly and closing it behind him.

His lips are on hers before she can greet him, hands tangling themselves in his hair and knocking the gold crown onto the bed.

"You brought that down here?" She mumbles agains his mouth, trying to suppress a smile.

"Came straight from the diplomatic meeting," he responds, "wanted to see you, needed to see you," he presses kisses down her neck.

"Al," she breathes, the boys grip tightening around her waist.

"Missed you so much," he whispers, pressing his forehead to hers, "hate not being able to see you whenever I want."

"You could always call me into your chambers," she says, "say it needs some extra cleaning. Might buy us a couple of minutes at least."

"Every day?" Albert smiles, planting another kiss to her lips. "Might get a bit suspicious."

"I just..." she shakes her head, "I hate having to pretend I don't know you other than 'yes your highness', 'no your highness', and 'can I take your laundry'."

"I know, I know," Albert sighs, "believe me, it kills me on the inside every time I watch you walk down the halls with clothes or plates or..." he trails off, shaking his head, "you deserve so much better, Y/N."

"It's not that that bothers me, Al," she shrugs, "that's my job, and it lets me see you everyday. What bothers me is I, I know how this is going to end, I know what has to happen..."

"What are you talking about?"

The girl lets out a scoff-like laugh, pulling away. She picks up the crown from the bed, twisting it around in her fingers, and then places it on his head, the gold glittering against his red hair.

"I'm talking about the fact that you're a prince, Albert," she says, "like next in line for the kingdom. I work in the palace...not exactly a suitable match."

"You know I don't care about all of that stuff," Albert sighs, pulling the crown off of his head, "I don't feel like a prince when I'm with you, I just feel like...me."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"The best thing," he says, kissing her forehead.

The boy sits on the bed, pulling her down so she straddles his lap. He puts the crown on her, a soft smile taking over his face as it slips over her forehead.

"You look good in a crown," he mumbles, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "especially when it's mine. You should wear one more often."

"Can't exactly wear your crown around the palace," she says, "don't have one of my own either."

"You will," he says without thinking, "one day."

"Al..."

"Sorry, sorry," he says the words, but they don't sound genuine, "just...wanna forget I'm prince Albert for a while. Just wanna be me, just wanna be Al."

"Kiss me," she whispers.

"A thousand times over."

---

Albert stops the girl in the hall, eyes darting around the empty space. He speaks quickly, quietly, not wanting to get caught.

"I need to see you," he mutters, "tonight. There's something we...something I need to talk to you about."

She swallows, adjusting the laundry basket in her grip.

"Okay," she says, "something wrong?"

"I," he stops, "kinda, just...prince stuff. We can talk later," he glances around the hall once more, and then presses a quick, loving kiss to her forehead, "around ten?"

"Yeah, I should be done by then," she says, "meet at our spot?"

Albert smiles softly at the words, and nods.

Ten o'clock takes it's time rolling around, Y/N leaving her room as soon as the bell rings out the time. She makes her way swiftly to the gardens, waiting by a rose hedge and twisting her fingers together in anxiety.

A pair of arms wrap around her waist, and he presses his lips to the top of her head.

"Hi love," he says, turning her around to face him, "kinda scared you weren't gonna show."

"The world would have to come crashing down for me to not show," she says, ruffling his hair, "you said you needed to talk? Sounded important."

Albert drops his arms, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"They're trying to get me to marry," he whispers, "forcing me, really. Bringing in girls from all over to 'compete for my hand', as my father put it."

Y/N takes a step backwards, nodding.

"Okay, I understand," she says softly, gaze fixed on the dirt, "you don't have to explain anything to me. In all honesty, I knew how this would end. It's not your fault."

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows, placing his hands on her shoulders. "No, that's not -"

"Albert, I get it," she shakes her head, "you're a prince, you're expected to get married to someone for the kingdom's sake, I knew that when we started this whole thing a year ago. It's okay, really."

"Y/N, stop, just," he takes her face into his hands, causing her to lock eyes with him, "just listen to me, let me explain what's going on."

She stands silent, and Albert presses his lips to hers.

"They want me to marry, I can't change their minds on that," he mutters, "what I can do is make my own choice in who I marry."

"Al," she breathes, "what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Albert pauses, titling his head up to look at the stars. He lets out a scoff and runs a hand through his hair as he looks back down at her. "I'm saying I don't get to make many of my own decisions in my life, and if they want me to get married I won't fight that. I will fight for who I get to marry, for who I spend the rest of my life with. I won't let them sell me off to which ever kingdom bids the highest."

"I believe the princesses are the ones that get 'sold off'," Y/N says, joking to try and cut the tension, "after all, you'll still get to rule your own land."

"You know what I mean," he rolls his eyes, "and you know what I'm trying to say."

She swallows, the nerves coming back.

"I think I do," she whispers, "and I hope you're not serious."

Albert's face falls.

"You...you don't want to marry me?"

"What? No," she shakes her hand, taking Albert's hands in her own, "no I...god, Albert, I would give anything to marry you. But it's not that simple, I don't want you to ruin your life by fighting to marry me. You deserve someone to help you rule, someone who understand what's going on in court, someone of nobility and of status."

"You can be that person. You can help me rule, bring new point of views and new ideas to the kingdom," Albert says, "we can learn court together, hell, I don't know what's going on half the time. And nobility, status...you know that means nothing to me. And you know I don't judge people based on the families they happen to be born into."

"I know you don't care," she says, "but Al, you're an anomaly in this place. It wouldn't go over that easy in court, your parents, the citizens...no one else would be okay with it, I can almost guarantee that."

"I'm in love with you," he breathes, eyes glistening under the moonlight, "can't you see that?"

The girl freezes, this being the first time the boy had used the words. She swallows, and shakes her head.

"I love you, more than words can even express." She places a hand on his cheek, heart heavy. "And that's why I can't let you spend you every day of the rest of your life fighting against everyone you know because of this decision."

Albert takes a step back, and the girl's hand drops to her side.

"I'll abdicate, then," he says, "they got Peter, he's two years younger but he'll do just as well as I would. We can go somewhere else, somewhere where we can just be us."

"You..." her eyes widen, "you'd give up the throne, you'd give up your life...for me?"

"I'd give up the world for you."

She almost doesn't believe him at first, but looking at him with the beginnings of tears in his eyes under the starlight, something about the situation makes her chest ache.

"I love you, Y/N," he says, "any girl they bring in won't even hold a candle to you. I won't be happy with any of them, and you don't really want to condemn me to a life of unhappiness, do you?"

"You'll make a good diplomat," she whispers after a pause, shaking her head.

"Sorry?"

"You're good at arguing, at talking people into things," she sighs, and takes his hand in her own, "if this is what you want, if you're sure this is the choice you want to make...you're stubborn, I know I can't stop you."

"Is that a yes?" Albert questions, biting back a smile.

"Ask me again, properly," she giggles.

Albert drops to one knee, holding her hands in his own.

"Y/N L/N," he starts, a smile on his face, "you have been the one constant good thing in my life, and I never want that to change. This past year with you has been the best year of my life. Growing up, I always thought that I would get paired up with some princess from some other land and live a loveless life and then," he pauses, shaking his head slightly, "god, then you walked into my room and treated me like me, not like some prince you were trying to impress. I could go on for hours but...long story short, I'm ridiculously in love with you, and I want nothing more in my life than to spend the rest of it with you, if you'll have me. Y/N, my darling, my love...will you marry me?"

"A thousand times over," she replies, pulling the boy up and pressing their lips together, "I love you so much, Albie."

Albert groans, but it doesn't sound sincere.

"I hate it when you call me that," he says.

"You don't," she smiles, tangling her fingers in his hair as he kisses her forehead, "if you really did, you'd stop me, order me to not call you that or something."

"You know I would never order you to do anything," Albert says, caressing her cheek with a soft hand, "besides maybe help me pick out clothes in the morning, you know I'm terrible at matching things."

The girl laughs, and leans her head onto his chest. He wraps his arms around her, holding her under the moonlight as they look out over the gardens.

"What are you gonna tell your parents?" She asks in a whisper.

"That I need someone by my side that I can trust to help me rule," he starts, "someone that knows this place, knows what it's like to grow up here. And regardless of what they think, it's what's best for me and for the kingdom, and that I'll fight for you, a thousand times over."

"When?"

"Tomorrow," Albert says, "they're planning on bringing the princesses here next week, we need to get ahead of that so they don't waste money buying tickets and such."

"Hmm, I can work with that," she smiles, "we should get back, before someone notices you're missing."

Albert presses his lips to her knuckles.

"We're gonna get through this," he mumbles against her skin, "you and me, baby, together."

"A thousand times over."

---

part two maybe?

taglist: @blytheandherbrain @thebroadwayaesthetic @racinghiggins @yes-above-the-fold @bencookisagod @suddenly-im-respecsable@disneykidafi @racescoronas @currrdleeeedddd-cooooffeeeee @seasickdolphin @theys-a-joke @albertdasillva @losers-yurio @newsiesgarbage

#prince albert is my fav #albert dasilva #albert dasilva x reader #Albert x reader #albert dasilva imagine #albert dasilva imagines #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies imagine #newsies fanfiction #newsies fic #newsies x reader

237 notes · View notes