#crutchy morris x reader

[h0nkch0c0late]

Guilt

Crutchy Morris x fem! Reader, platonic!Jack Kelly x reader

Summary: When Crutchy gets sent to the Refuge, Jack Kelly and Y/n waste no time in trying to get the boy back.

"I should've stayed back and helped him." Y/n frowned as she, Jack, and David began their mission towards the Refuge, where Y/n and Jack knew for sure Crutchy was being held.

Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he held rope in his other hand, "it's not your fault. If you stayed back, you both woulda been caught, and what good does that do ya?"

She shrugged but didn't have the energy to argue with him during that current moment, dead set on getting her boyfriend back.

As they hurriedly crossed the street to where the Refuge sat, David decided to voice his doubt.

"How can you two be sure they sent Crutchy here?" He questioned.

"How can I be sure the Delanceys stink - 'Cause that's how things work. An orphan gets arrested, Snyder gets him sent here to be 'rehabilitated.'" Jack began to explain as he turned the rope into a lasso and swung it onto a chimney pot on the roof, "the more kids in the Refuge, the more money the city sends to take care of 'em, and the more Snyder can steal." He starts climbing the rope, "he's here alright."

Y/n nods at David before following Jack, her expression glum but determined.

David looks around the place nervously, climbing after her shortly after.

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

As Jack taps on the window of Crutchy's bunkroom, one of the inmates, Tenpin (who was 9 years old a the most), looks up and grins.

"Cowboy! Ya miss the joint?" He greets.

"Whattayasay, Tenpin. You got a new guy, Crutchy-" Jack begins.

"The gimp? I'll get him for ya." Tenpin nods before wondering off.

Y/n watches from above, sitting next to David, who seemed to get more nervous with every passing minute.

Part of her wished that she was the one hanging from the rope instead of Jack so she could apologize to him face to face. Sure, she could do that when they got him out, but she's the impatient type.

She was also in the middle of calming David down, as he had begun to freak out how loud they were talking. Jack wasn't exactly helping as he began to have a casual conversation as Tenpin walked away.

"That's Tenpin- S'posed to get out last Christmas, but Snyder keeps tackin' more time on his sentence -"

David was frantic, "be quiet- they'll hear you!" He shushed.

Y/n rolled her eyes at the boy, "Would ya calm down, Dave! They won't hear a thing. Trust Jack a little more, will you?" She groaned.

Crutchy then appears, grinning at the sight of Jack hanging outside the window. "Hey, whattaya hangin' around here for? That Dave up there? Hiya Dave!" He waves, glancing up at David.

Y/n's head appears over the ledge once more at the voice of her boyfriend, one of her hands now covering David's mouth to keep him from whining, "hiya, loverboy!" She smiles, waving with her other hand.

He waved back, his grin widening at the sight of his girlfriend.

"Go get your hat, Crutch- kiss Snyder goodbye." Jack tells him, causing Crutchy to look away from his girlfriend and back to his best friend.

His grin drops a little, "Yeah...hey, you shoulda seen me in court today - old judge Movealong Monahan hisself! Took him two minutes to move me along to Snyder for 'my own good'" He tried to deflect.

Jack could see Y/n's impatience growing from his peripheral as he sighed, "Later, Crutchie - get your stuff." He tells, his hands wrapped around the bars.

Crutchy grabs Jack's wrist as his voice lowers, not wanting Y/n to hear. "Listen, Jack... Truth is, I ain't walking so good. Oscar and Morris kinda worked me over a little..."

Jack's eyes narrowed, "they hurt you? Don't worry, we'll carry you -"

Crutchy cut him off, "I don't want nobody carryin' me!" He whispered harshly, "especially not in front of my lady."

His eyes flash with pride, a soft smile planting his lips. "It ain't so bad. Get three squares, sorta, and there's some swell fellas..." He looks back up towards Y/n and David, Y/n's hand still over David's mouth as she began to lecture him about how annoying his paranoia was. Crutchy's smile didn't fade as he watched his girlfriend, a small chuckle coming from his throat.

Jack decided to use Crutchy's love for her against him, "what about Y/n, huh? You don't wanna leave the lady by herself now, do ya? She'll be devastated when she finds out you ain't comin' with us."

Crutchy chuckles again, looking at Jack, "she won't be on her lonesome! She's got you to protect her."

Jack frowns, "Crutchie, she blames herself for your capture. If you stay..."

Crutchy shakes his head, his smile fading as he becomes serious, "Jack, you gotta promise me you'll protect her, aight? An' I know she's gunna keep blaming herself for this, so just...keep remindin' her it ain't, okay?"

Jack looks up at Y/n and sighs, "Alright, okay, but Crutch-"

Crutchy doesn't give Jack the chance to finish his sentence as he looks back up at the two roof dwellers, "They still talk about how Jack rode outta here on that coach!"

David let's out a resigned sigh as he pries Y/n's hand off of his mouth, "Teddy Roosevelt's, right?" He responds.

"You already heard the story." Crutchy chuffed, smiling.

"You mean it's true?" David asks.

Y/n punches David in the shoulder lightly, "Of course it's true!"

Crutchy hears something, telling Jack to cheese it just as Snyder appears.

He strides towards the window, the room now in utter silence other than the sound of his footsteps as he passes the many bunks. He stops at the window, scanning the outside.

Crutchy quickly comes to the rescue (just so Jack wouldn't have to hang under the window longer than he had to), tapping Snyder's shoulder, "Uh, Mr. Warden, sir, ya know, I was thinkin', I'd just like ya to know, that when you were takin' a nap this afternoon-"

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

As Y/n, Jack, and David made their way away from the Refuge without Crutchy, Y/n couldn't help the guilt that began to eat at her insides again.

Because of this, she stopped in her tracks, "I wanna go back for him." She stated firmly, crossing her arms.

The two boys also stopped, turning to look at her. David's eyes were wide, "Are you crazy?!" He whispered, "You can't go back there!"

Jack frowned, "Y/n we can't-"

Y/n cut Jack off, "it's my fault he's even there in the first place! I wanna try - alone this time."

David's expression displayed the very definition of horrified. Jack had been three seconds away from being caught, and SHE WANTED TO GO BACK??????

Jack shook his head, "No. It's too dangerous for you."

Y/n scoffed, "dangerous? Since when have you ever been against me doing dangerous things?! This is CRUTCHY we're talking about!"

"I said, NO!" Jack told her, his voice raised and aggressive.

Y/n began to tear up. Never once had Jack raised his voice at her like that, but she refused to back down, "why not?!'

Jack threw his head back in frustration, "Because he doesn't WANT to be saved!!" He exclaimed.

Y/n froze in her spot, "w-what?" Her eyebrows laced together in confusion and hurt.

Jack's frustration melted, and he began to feel angry at himself for raising his voice at her. Sure, it was an accident, but as tough as she was, seeing her hurt was like seeing an injured puppy. "They... they worked him too hard and made his bum leg even worse. I'm sorry, Y/n, I tried to convince him..."

The girl's posture deflated as she took a step back, "this wouldn't have happened if I'd just..." she trailed off.

Jack stepped towards her, his hands grabbing her wrists gently, Y/n's eyes turned to the ground as she began to cry. "Hey-stop sayin' it's your fault, 'Cause it ain't, aight?" He let go of her right wrist and used that hand to lift her chin to look at him, beginning to wipe her tears away with his thumb, "It was Crutch's choice go stay anyway. You know how stubborn he gets, especially when it comes to his leg."

Y/n looked at him, her eyes still glistening with tears as she nodded. "Yeah....I-I guess..."

David was nervously tapping the ground with his foot, "Can we go now?" He questions, his eyes darting around the streets heavy with paranoia.

Jack glances at Y/n, who nods, and he throws an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah... let's go."

As they began to walk, he couldn't help glancing at the girl beside him. Protecting her was a promise he knew he couldn't break.

----

No matter how many times Jack told Y/n it wasn't her fault, that heavy feeling in her heart would prove as a counterpoint, weighing heavier and heavier the further they got from the Refuge.

She knew that the only way that for that feeling to go away was to hold her Loverboy again. And boy, she couldn't wait for that day to come. If it ever did.

And guilt... guilt is a hard thing to rid yourself of. -------------------------------------------------------

Bro I keep seeing two spellings of Crutchy's name it was literally so hard to choose which one to actually use.

Anyway stan Crutchy <3

[lovingmusicalmen]

Can you write Crutchie saying "Your eyes are beautiful" ?

I adore Crutchie with my whole ass heart and soul I would do anything for him

Fluff 13: "Your eyes are beautiful"

Blurb requests still open!

"Crutchie! You're back!"

Y/N saw the teen's face brighten as he turned to see her running towards him down the street. Her own face was cracked in two with a wide grin, thrilled at the return of her favourite newsboy.

She skidded to a halt in front of him, having only just paused long enough to actually take in his appearance.

A bruise had blossomed across his face, and he seemed to be leaning even more heavily on his crutch than usual. There were new holes in his clothes and when he reached into his bag to pull out the paper he always saved for her, the sleeve of his shirt rode up enough for her to see the bruises that ran up his skin.

"I missed you so much," she burst out, blinking hard to dissuade any tears from falling.

"I missed you too," Crutchie assured her with a smile. "My favourite customer," he added with a tease.

Y/N couldn't help herself, ignoring the newspaper Crutchie was holding out to her to place a gentle hand on his cheek, angling his face so that she could examine the bruise.

"I was so worried when they said you got taken," she confessed, biting her lip in worry over the injury. "It must've hurt so much," she added, voice barely above a whisper.

"Looks worse than it feels," Crutchie said, his own voice lower than usual, evidently aiming to soothe her worries. He raised the hand still holding the newspaper to rest it on her wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze, bringing Y/N's attention to the present to meet his eyes again. "I'm alright - I promise."

Y/N ducked her head, stepping away in embarrassment.

"Of course - sorry. But... I'm glad," she said, aiming for a jovial tone. "I mean, if you weren't who else would I buy my paper from? Finch?" She teased. Crutchie laughed, though there was something a little hollow and longing in the sound, missing its usual life and cheer.

"Well I couldn't do that to you, could I?" Crutchie answered rhetorically. He held out the paper to her again and Y/N took it from him, dropping money for the previous three days of newspapers into his hand in return. "This is - what are you doing? This is far too much," Crutchie scoffed, shaking his head and beginning to count through the change to return it back to her.

"I set aside some of my wages - enough to buy a paper every day from you," Y/N admitted, tone soft, and she saw how Crutchie's ears turned pink. He had clearly picked up on the affection in her voice and he offered her a shy smile. "It would've been yours anyway if you were here - consider it a... welcome home present."

"I can't accept this," Crutchie said, his tone of voice matching hers. Y/N took a step back from him, her smile becoming more teasing.

"If I start running, you'll have no choice," she joked. "Just take the money, Crutch - you must've missed out on the money from those days selling as it is."

The newsie pocketed the change, though he still looked reluctant to do so.

"Thank you," he sighed.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Y/N promised, turning away from him.

She had only taken a couple of steps back down the road towards her workplace when she heard Crutchie call out her name. Y/N turned around, raising an eyebrow as he moved towards her, cheeks a bright shade of pink.

"Your eyes are beautiful," he blurted out.

"What?"

"I mean-" Crutchie shook his head. "I meant to - to ask you out before I said that.

Y/N laughed a little, and thought for just a moment before darting forwards to press their lips together in a brief kiss.

"Well if that's how we're asking people out now - your eyes are beautiful, too."

[sl-newsie]

Chapter Thirty Four: Under The Weather (Spot Colon x Female Newsie)

Uuuuggghhh. A cold. A simple, yet extremely annoy’n, cold. And a cold, if not taken care of, turns into the flu, which turns into pneumonia, which turns into death.

For a whole week I’s been hide’n my symptoms, which so far had only been a scratchy throat and some drainage, but now I gots a whole sore throat and fever ta go with it. I don’t tell Jack ‘cause he’ll try ta stop me sell’n papes, and I don’t even think of say’n noth’n to Spot ‘cause he’ll keep me locked inside for a week!

But I ain’t sure how long I can keep this up- my energy’s beginn’n to slow down too…

I’s at my sell’n spot already beginn’n to drift off and it ain’t even dusk yet. Passerbys look at me in pity and disgust, not want’n to catch someth’n from me.

Ugh. This is a bust. But I can’t go back now- then they’ll see I really is sick. I need to get paid, so I can eat, so I can get better, so I can keep sell’n- this seems like a never-end’n circle, but it’s a good never-end’n circle, a circle I get to share with Spot.

“Hiya Becs!”

I groan and try to show a bright smile. “Hi Race.”

Racetrack struts up, looks me up and down, and lifts his eyebrows. “You look terrible.”

“Charmed. And you look hideous. What else may I help you realize on this fine day?”

Race chuckles, but then seriously says: “Becca, you is sick.”

I hang my head. “How’d you guess?”

“By tha sad, weak state you’s in!” He gestures to me. “Ya look like you’s about to fall over! How long’ve you been ill?”

I smile sheepishly. “Almost a week. But-”

“Don’t even think of come’n up with an argument, ‘cause I’m take’n you to Jack.”

My eyes widen. “No, no! I ain’t gonna tell Jack I’m sick- he’ll tell me off ‘til tha cows come home-!”

“Then I’ll take you to Spot.”

“I ain’t tell’n nobody. I godda sell papes-” At that moment, my body decides to betray me. I feel my eyelids grow heavy, and lean down on a crate. “I- I…”

I see Race shake his head as he threads his arm under mine, help’n me stand as I black out.

“You can’t do everyth’n, Becca. Don’t worry- we’s gonna get you bedda.”

I wake up, lay’n in Spot’s bed and covered in almost every blanket in New York- I’s surprised I can even breathe!

I groggily get up, unsure how long I’ve slept. My cold feels worse…

I stumble down tha stairs, and find Spot and Race talk’n in tha kitchen. When they see me, they immediately panic.

“Becca, get back to bed.” Race warns.

“Beauty, you’s still sick.”

“Guys, I’m fine. I- Achoo!” Obviously I’m fine? “I need to sell papes-”

“Ya can’t sell papes when your dead!” Race gets in my face.

Spot, be’n tha ova-protective person he is (he and Jack could do a competition), steps up intimidate’nly. “Enough, Higgins. Becca’s gonna rest now, right Beauty?”

I glare at my husband and shake my head. “No! I ain’t that sick! I just need to- hey!” 

Spot picks me up and begins climb’n tha stairs.

“Tell Jack his sister’s recuperate’n,” he calls down to Race.

“I will do that. Get well, Becca.”

“Bye, Race. Now Spot-” I turn to face him. “Put. Me. Down! I can walk poifectly fine on my own!”

“Then tell me why Race had to carry you here while you’s was unconscious?” Spot says back.

“He… assumed I was too sick to work?”

“Maybe he’s right.”

Spot carries me to tha bed and sets me down, then begins cover’n me in blankets.

“Beauty, you’s sick and need to rest.”

“Yeah I’s sick, sick-a you worry’n ‘bout me!”

Spot ignores this and feels my arms.

“You’s freez’n!”

“I’s fine!” I grumble. “I- Achoo!” A sneeze escapes me.

“For God’s sake, Becca- all a guy wants to do is help ya! Accept some help once in a while!”

I scrunch my face, then go into a cough’n fit. Ugh! I hate colds- flu, whateva.

Spot sits down and rubs my back, support’n my coughs.

“Fine. I’ll sleep, but as soon as I’m bedda I’s sell’n again.”

“That’s all I need to hear.” Spot lays down next ta me and joins me under tha covers.

I inch away. “No, no. You ain’t come’n near me. ‘Cause if I’m sick, I don’t wanna get you sick.”

Spot smirks. “You already have.”

I panic. “I did? I’m sorry, I-”

“Ya made me luvsick!” Spot grins triumphantly.

I blink. “What? Spot, that’s one of tha cheesiest things you’s eva said!”

Spot hugs me closa and kisses my forehead.

“And it got ya all flustered, and it’s adorable!”

“Where’d you get that? Take a page oudda Mush’s book?”

“No- actually came up with that meself. Just get bedda for me, please? I can’t have you’s die’n on me again.” He forces me to lay down and rest my ache’n head on his chest. “If you’s this bad in tha morn’n, I’s get’n you a doctor.”

“Sounds fair,” I mudda as I drift off in a groggy sleep.

[amoreva]

omg I saw your post referencing newsies... and (1992sies or broadway idc, whatever u want) with (whoever you choose bc I only saw u talking about Jack and I'm not really sure [I don't care I'm just starved of newsies content]) and they're helping reader become a newsie, showing them spots to sell at, helping them use their voice and be louder etc etc

ignore if you don't wanna do this, no pressure! and thank you if you do!!

RUBS RIGHT OFF

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: newsies x platonic!reader

summary: in which, you are introduced to the ropes and strings of being a newsie (it’s a little harder than you expect)

warnings: swearing, fluff, self-doubt

a/n: missed writing for newsies, sorry if it is a little short.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

“Now listen, with that cute mug of yours, you’ll be selling papes like a pro.” Jack Kelly, the infamous leader of the Manhattan Newsies, promised you. Your new (old) shoes slapping the New York concrete as you walked side by side by the leader, gripping your newspaper bag.

“Cute mug?” You questioned.

“It’s an expression!” Race ran by. A shit-eating grin on his face. A hand on his newsie cap, the other gripping a cap that wasn’t his.

Albert ran by you. His auburn hair unkept. He didn’t have time to brush it because he woke up late, “Racer! You get back here. When I catch your ass—”

A small laugh escaped you as Albert chased Race in front of the circulation gate. It was amusing how close everyone seemed to be, yet a small feeling told you you won’t every be able to achieve that closeness.

You washed up in the Manhattan Newsies Lodging House by chance. “Selective amnesia.” Race commented when you only told a few things about yourself. It was by choice.

Jack shook his head with a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. “He’s not wrong.” He referred to Race’s words. “But it’ll be tough even with a cute mug.”

“Bad business?” You asked and looked up at Jack. Your gray newsie cap covering your full view of the so-called leader.

“Nah, today is great business. We get real good cash when everyone is out on lunch and stuff.” Jack reassured and pat your shoulder. “It’s the boredom you gotta’ get used too.”

“And them.” Davey gestured to two boys. They looked a little older than the newsies, but not too old.

The Delancey Brothers. Barely making enough money to get nicer clothes than the newsies. Even if they made money through not so morally good ways. It was evident with the shiny brass knuckles in Oscar’s pocket.

“They won’t bother you.” Jack reassured with a steady smile.

You watched as Jack gave the brothers a run for their money. A couple of this and that’s and the brothers were hot on Jack’s tail, until Mr. Wiesel said something. It was effective with taking the attention off of you, the fresh meat.

Morris only shoved the stack of papers into yours chest, grumbling nonsense.

Sweat trickled down your back, New York’s beamed sun cooked you alive. You felt like you were rolled your sleeves up for the umpteenth time. Jack had to be as warm, if not warmer, but the boy didn’t show it. The two of you had been out here for god knows how long. Your voice hoarse from shouting fake headlines.

Or “shouting” as Jack put it. He thought you could be louder. With your cute mug and the creative headlines you’ve been “shouting”—he thought you could sell fifty papers a day.

“C’mon.” He encouraged. “Miss Medda would say you gotta project. Shout it so the whole city could here the news of…hundreds swimming in an enclosure to live!”

A new aquarium opened up.

You were exhausted, fanning yourself with a folded up newspaper. The heat was unbearable. “Jackie boy!” Race slung and arm around your shoulders. Crutchie in tow. A grin on his face. “Journalist, 10 o’clock, around the corner.”

Race and Crutchie quickly steered you away as Jack when to see his girlfriend. Race may have lied, but it was all in good cause.

To save you from the brutality of work.

It wasn’t that Jack wasn’t a good mentor. Quite the opposite, but some of his selling spots were less than ideal—paired with his natural talent to sell papers quickly, he really could sell anywhere.

Race and Crutchie show you the best selling spots that some of the other boys have already snagged up. They didn’t mind sharing for a day though.

“No wonder why you have most of your papers left.” Race snorted and perched himself on a stone ledge. You looked at your worn out boots, feeling slightly embarrassed for not being able to sell fast.

“Be nice, it’s their first day.” Crutchie replied and leaned against the fence to put some weight off of his foot.

Race looked up at the sky. His hand covering the blinding sun. “Listen.” He trailed off and glanced at Crutchie, Finch and Jojo. “We already have most of our papers gone.”

He gathered the leftover papers and handed them to you. “You stand there with your cute mug and we’ll yell out headlines!”

You paled. “What?”

“I’m sure Jackie boy tired you out with all the notes he was given.” Race grinned and gestured you to hold out a newspaper up.

“The embarrassment will rub right off.” Finch reassured as his eyes followed a passerby. Crutchie, Race and Jojo follow his line of sight.

“Baby born with three heads!”

“Terrified flight form burning inferno!”

“Man discovers an unidentified object in his backyard!”

“Witch reported in Salem!”

By the time the New York’s skies were a burst of warm, radiant colors, you were walking back to the Lodging only ten papers. Race suggested you burn them in the fireplace later.

“So how was it today? Fun?” You chose to walk with Crutchie at a slower pace due to his leg.

“Yeah.” You shrugged, adjusted your newspaper bag.

“Listen, you’ll get used to it. Then you’ll be selling papes in no time.” Crutches reassured.

Light streamed out from inside. The newsies were already settling in for the night. Games of poker and wrestling matches were going on. Race ducked behind Jojo to avoid Jack’s wrath. They greeted the five of you and you sunk into a ratty sofa. Too soft from overuse, but it felt wonderful on your aching legs.

You observed the lively atmosphere, a small smile on your face. You could get used to living here, working everyday—coming back to shenanigans.

Fatigue and exhaustion have you in their clutches and you’re soon dozing off on the sofa. If there was shushing and harsh whispers to be quiet because of that—you didn’t hear a thing.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

[ao3feed-newsies]

Newsies oneshots/headcannons

by, Blinkstaymidzy by Blinkstaymidzy Many random newsies oneshots/head cannons You can request any ship! I will not do any Les romantic parings and will not do x reader.(sorry) I will do fluff and smut. Words: 1173, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English Fandoms: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies: The Broadway Musical! (2017) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: David Jacobs, Jack Kelly (Newsies), Les Jacobs, Sarah Jacobs (Newsies), Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Racetrack Higgins, Spot Conlon, Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Finch (Newsies), Specs (Newsies), Romeo (Newsies), Smalls (Newsies), Mush Meyers, Elmer (Newsies), Henry (Newsies), JoJo (Newsies), Tommy Boy (Newsies), Kid Blink, Buttons (Newsies), Sniper (Newsies), Mike (Newsies), Ike (Newsies), Morris Delancey, Oscar Delancey, Crutchie (Newsies), Myron (Newsies), Hot Shot (Newsies) Relationships: Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies), Spot Conlon/Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, Finch/Tommy Boy (Newsies), Romeo/Specs (Newsies) read : https://ift.tt/QNvgz42 - December 03, 2023 at 06:59PM

[sunno-needs-to-go-outside]

This isnt meant to be hateful or to dunk on people who write like this, but I am so TIRED of people writing newsie fics with a fem!reader or oc thats like "im different, im a girl newsie" or "i had to dress up as a boy to be a newsie" or "its so hard to be the ONLY GIRL newsie", bc yes, there were no girls that explicitly played girl newsies in the movie or musical, but girl newsies DID exist!! You can literally search it up!! The only reason people didnt really notice a lot of girl newsies during the strikes was bc most of them became "scabbers", it payed better and you werent allowed to hit girls, so they got off scot free. But before and likely after that, there were probably just as many girl newsies as there were boys. You can argue that you use these as a plot device to build tension or to create conflict but PLEASE IT IS SO OVERUSED AND UNORIGINAL BY NOW. And your reader or character doesnt HAVE to be a newsie, they can have other professions and things that make them an interesting character.

[albertsbootayyy]

“His cheeks went redder than his hair” I love how this line is just in almost every Albert fanfiction it’s so adorable I just love it

[miryum]

It’s After Five (Spot Conlon x Reader)

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

“What the hell!” The girl cried. 

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

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

“Yeah, she did.” Lena grumbled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s cute!” Y/n had protested. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Davey.”

“That’s worse. Crutchie?” 

“Deal.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cool. I guess.” Lena shrugged. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Touché.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spot Conlon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, a loud commotion could be heard from downstairs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Bout what?” Jack demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandable.” Y/n chuckled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Night Spot.” 

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

Spot scowled at Mush but didn’t speak. 

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

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

“Anything for you, doll.” 

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

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

[lovingmusicalmen]

Could you do the "Do you need a hug?" prompt with Crutchie? (You can decide if he's the one giving or receiving the hug.)

Heck yeah - my first Crutchie fic! Hope you enjoy!!

Still accepting blurb requests for Newsies!

Fluff 18 - "Do you need a hug?"

Crutchie hadn't been the same since getting back from the Refuge. That was common knowledge amongst all the Manhatten Newsies.

His smile a little less bright. His eyes vacant when he thought there was no one watching him. A hand subconsciously rubbing his bad leg every time he sat down. His laugh a little less genuine.

His first day back selling after the strike was over, Jack had suggested (as gently as he could, mind. He didn't want Crutchie to think that he was pitying him, or doubting him) that Crutchie return to his selling partner for a little while.

It had been years since Crutchie and Y/N had sold together - both of them having long since parted ways to different corners of Manhatten. But before that, they had been selling partners. Pedalling newspapers together every day since they had joined the lodging house.

Crutchie had just given Jack a hum of agreement, that same vacant look in his eyes that had become normal for them to find since Crutchie had returned. Jack shared an uncertain look with Race and Y/N, who looked equally helpless for what to do.

"Alright, Crutch - back together again, huh? Dream team?" Y/N finally said, forcing a cheeriness into her voice as she nudged Crutchie playfully in the side. This time, Crutchie's smile seemed a little more real, if not utterly exhausted.

"This is an awful idea, Jackie - the two of them together again, they'll leave no customers for the rest of us!" Race joked, slinging an arm over Crutchie's shoulders, steering him gently towards the end of the line of newsies.

"Nah - no chance they sell more than me with Davey and Les," Jack scoffed. He lifted his hat to quickly ruffle up his own hair, sticking his hands in his pockets afterwards, feigning a casualness that Y/N knew he didn't really feel with his constant worry over his best friend.

"Willing to bet on that, Jackie boy?"

Y/N stepped to replace Race at Crutchie's side as the blond lagged back to continue bartering with their leader.

"Your place or mine?" Y/N asked, shooting her friend a teasing wink. Crutchie let out a quiet laugh, meeting her eyes just long enough to let her see how he rolled his.

"You're so dumb," he said - no heat at all in the insult. Only a fondness that sparked a familiar heat in Y/N's chest.

"I'll have you know I went to school for at least a day," she joked.

"Alright, alright - no need to brag," Crutchie said, breathing a laugh and shaking his head.

"For real though, Crutch - think some of your regulars have been worrying about you since the strike. So we should probably hit your spot, right?" She asked. Crutchie just nodded, the light in his eyes dimming a little, his smile seeming a little more strained.

Y/N frowned, observing her selling partner out of the corner of her eye as she paid for her papers, ignoring the glower the Delancey brothers sent towards her as they handed her the pile of newspapers.

Y/N grabbed a careful handful of Crutchie's shirt as they exited the gate, tugging him gently into a side-street, away from the prying eyes of their fellow Newsies.

"Everything alright?" Crutchie asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she said gently. "Are you doing alright, Crutch?" She reached a hand up cautiously, not truly thinking through her actions as she brushed a gentle thumb over the bruise still present across his cheek. Instead, she focused on how Crutchie seemed to chase the touch, leaning into her hand, his eyes slipping closed. "What did they do to you?" She breathed.

Crutchie just shook his head and when he opened his eyes, there were tears glistening in them.

"I really don't want to talk about it - especially not with you. I don't want you to think I'm weak," he confessed. Y/N gave him a smile and shook her head.

"Alright. But, for the record, I think you're the strongest of us. And if you do want to talk about it... I'm always here, Crutch," she ducked down a little, trying to meet his eyes again, which had fallen to stare at the ground in shame. "I'm always here," she repeated, insistent. Crutchie's lips quirked into an awkward smile and he nodded his head.

"Alright - I believe you," he whispered.

Y/N hesitated, then:

"Do you want a hug?"

Crutchie looked up at her at last, his eyes searching hers for a moment with a kind of desperation she had never seen in her friend before. And then he just gave a quick nod of his head and she was crushing him into a tight hug.

From the way he clung onto her, it seemed as though he had been waiting for it for a while.

[sl-newsie]

Stand Up: Crutchy x West Side Jet girl *Mafia*

“Ángela, any report on Brooklyn?”

I groan and lean against the bookshelf. “Nada, Riff. There’s been nada for months, and I don’t understand why ya keep send’n me back there! Why not ‘Hattan or Queens?”

The Jet leader goes to sit behind his fancy green desk. “Perhaps. I’d though ‘bout send’n Baby John to ‘Hattan, but I think Les can go one day without see’n ‘im. Whaddaya say?”

My eyes widen at the golden opportunity. “Thanks, boss!”

“Don’t mention it- I’s was plan’n on go’n to meet up with Mouth and discuss’n some documents anyway.”

I thank him again and skip down the stairs towards the breakroom, where I find Mouthpiece, Diesel, and Ice play’n cards.

“Hola, boys! Guess what?” I hop up on the counter.

“Riff’s send’n you to Brooklyn again?” Ice says lazily as he looks at his cards.

“No! That’s the good news! He’s send’n me to ‘Hattan, and I’ll get to see Mushy again!” I beam.

“Ugh, you and Mush! That only means double-trouble,” Action grunts.

“He’s my best friend, guys! I only get to see him once a month, can’t ya just be happy for me?”

“Alright, alright! We’ll shut up ‘bout your boyfriend!”

I gag. “Ay, no! Mush ‘nd me ain’t like that! Somos solo amigos.”

“Do we look like we care?” Diesel throws down a card.

“Say what ya want, I can’t wait for tomorrow!” I smirk as I swipe Diesel’s lunch from the fridge.

The next morning is a sunny one, with dew still covering the pavement. But just as I’m about to head outta the junkyard, I hear Riff call out:

“Hold your horses, Ángela! I just got a call from Kelly, says he’s coming over here instead. So just go wait in the lounge.”

I groan. “Ay ay! Lorton, you promised I could actually leave this place for at least one day!”

Riff storms up and shoves me against the wall. “Shut it, girly! This meeting’s very important, so you’s gonna bite the bullet and stick around ‘n case there’s trouble, got it?”

I stiffly nod my head. “Si. Yes, boss.”

He gives me one more shove. “Good!”

Quickly, I sneak away to the ‘lounge,’ which is just a few old tables shoved togedda next to Riff’s train car. I also find Mouthpiece, Action, and Diesel, who are still waking up.

“Whyyyyy did we have to get up so early?!” Action grumbles.

Diesel yawns. “‘Cause Kelly likes to wake up early, ya know- with the sunrise ‘nd all? The ‘Hattan family’s always the first to wake up, so we godda keep up with ‘em.”

Thankfully, the wait is very short. In no time at all I hear three knocks and a whistle near the train car. I turn to look and immediately I’m tackled into a big hug.

“Señorita! Where’ve ya been? I haven’t seen you’s since I went with Kelly to that convention in Brooklyn!”

I give a hearty laugh as I squeeze Mush tighter. “Lorton’s been send’n me to Brooklyn for months! He’s finally reassigning me, but since you’s cancelled on our visit then I’m gonna have to wait!”

“Well it’s good to see ya, Gela!” Mush looks over at Mouthpiece. “I know a certain someone who’s been look’n to see you too.”

“Mouthpiece?!”

The guy in question is knocked over by a ‘Hattan fella dressed in blue, who looks just like Mouthpiece.

“Hiya, brodda! It’s been forever!” Racetrack says in a big voice as he sits down at the table with us. “Still Lorton’s 2nd?”

He nods. “Still Cowboy’s 2nd?”

“You bet! Speak’n-a betting, you’s up for a game of poker?”

“Don’t need to ask me twice!” He replies as he starts shuffling a deck.

“Ahem!”

We all turn and see an impatient Cowboy lean’n against the train car, with Mouth waiting behind him.

“So Riff, you gonna talk business with Mouth or just set up a playdate for your staff?”

“No sir. You’s here for important matters, ‘s just a bit of a family reunion.”

When Kelly sees me I notice his gaze harden. “Who’s the dame?”

Riff shrugs. “Ángela, me best spy. She’s-”

“Spy? Tell me, Lorton, why do you have a spy here?” Cowboy says accusin’ly.

“It ain’t like that, boss!” Mush defends me. “She’s been my pal from way back when, and she’s only here to see me. Ángela ain’t here for spy’n.”

Kelly frowns. “She looks familiar…”

“Yeah, yeah. We’s here to discuss business, not my employees. So let’s get chat’n-”

Kelly’s jaw tightens. “I ain’t talk’n ‘til the snitch leaves! Crutch, escort the dame out.”

Riff just scoffs. “Whatever. Ángela ain’t no snitch unless I say so. But!” He points an accusing finger at Cowboy. “If your guy so much as touches her, I’ll bust his odda leg!”

I squint. Huh? Who’re they talk’n about-?

“C’mon, miss. Let’s go.” A voice behind me says.

Turning around, I find a brown-eyed guy in a gray suit with a cute expression. He’s also use’n a crutch, which peaks my curiosity even more. After tunk’n my brown hair under a cap, I follow him outta the junkyard and down the West Side streets.

“So… your name’s Crutch?”

He rolls his eyes. “They just call me ‘Crutch’ for short. Name’s Crutchy.”

I shake my head. “No it ain’t. What’s your real name?”

Crutchy suddenly gets very tense, and his gaze sharpens. “Why do you wanna know, huh? Ya got woid on the street that I’m a weak crip so you’s could hold me for ransom? Is that what I’s is, some bargain’n chip for Lorton?! I’m an accountant, and I’s only here to keep the peace between Jack ‘nd Lorton. But instead I’m stuck with you, so if you’re gonna try anyth’n just know that I ain’t afraid to hit a girl!” He says with a straight face.

He thinks I- He’s… what?

“Crutchy, I ain’t try’n to fight anybody,” I say sincerely.

The guy gives a relieved sigh and leans against a crate. “Oh, good! I was really afraid I was gonna really have to hit ya!”

I hold back a laugh. “Bit of a softie, huh?”

He groans. “Yeah. Kelly likes my poisonality, but I ain’t got much in the tough-guy department. I work with finances, not fights.” I get an odd look. “You haven’t asked ‘bout my crutch yet.”

My eyes widen. “Um, no?”

“Why? Usually that’s the foist thing folks ask about.”

“Ah, ‘cause I don’t wanna be disrespectful. Yeah I’s curious, but I ain’t gonna ask ‘bout it unless you wanna tell me.” I shrug.

Crutchy seems… very surprised. He goes to take my hand and seems to relax more. “I’s a crip ‘cause I used to have polio. I’s gotten bedda, but I still need it. Um… thanks. Thanks for actually being nice. My real name’s Charlie, since ya asked. What’s yours?”

I smile warmly at his opening up to me. “Ángela.”

He looks at me strangely. “‘S that spanish?”

“Sure is!” I nod and toy with a lock-a hair stick’n outta my cap, hoping he don’t pry any further.

“So… What’s a nice goil like yourself do’n with Lorton? You his lady or someth’n?”

I gag. “God, no! He drives me crazy! I’s only Riff’s spy ‘cause I owe him a debt.”

Crutchy frowns. “What’s that?”

“Um…” Not too sure I wanna spill that. “He got me outta a tight pickle a while back and let me into the Jets, so I act as his spy.”

“Oh. So… you’s with Mush, then?” Crutchy guesses.

I actually gotta clutch my sides from laugh’n. “No, no! Why is it that guys always think me ‘nd Mush are a thing? Between you and Action, God! No, we’s only close friends. Mush has known me since I could walk.”

“Oh. So… whaddya think-a the ‘Hattan mafia?” Crutchy asks with a hint of nervousness.

I consider this. “Normally I can’t handle some-a Kelly’s boys, but… you’s one-a my favorite ‘Hattan members.” I give him a nod. “And for the record, that’s one Hell of a smile you got.”

“Really?” The clouds around Crutchy’s face seem to lift.

I swipe his hat and spin it on my finger. “Really, mi amigo.”

“Ah, you speak Spanish?”

I nod. “Got some Spanish blood in me, from my dad’s side.”

“So… you ain’t Puerto Rican?” The cute brunette asks.

Avoid’n his gaze, I take a sudden interest in stare’n at the cobblestone street. “If I was… would you think of me differently?”

Crutchy’s eyes widen. “What? No- why would you think that?” He takes my hand and with his odda hand makes me look up at his soft brown eyes. “Noth’n like that would ever make me hate you. Why would you be ashamed of be’n Puerto Rican-?”

“‘Cause her brodda killed Skip!”

We both gasp and look to find Kelly, Race, Mouth, and Blink block’n the alley.

“He- Her brodda- You?” Crutchy looks at me differently, as if I’s someone else. “Who’s your brodda?”

Gulping, I look up to face my new friend, who is look’n at me with sad eyes.

“Carlos, a former Shark member. He was Bernardo’s 2nd until he stabbed a ‘Hattan member called Skip. After that, Bernardo banished him and he moved back to Madrid- that’s where our grandparents are from. Our parents are from Puerto Rico.”

Crutchy still seems confused. “Then why… then why are you a Jet?”

“‘Cause after the peace agreement, the Jets let me in and gave me a new family, one that don’t kill people. Bernardo understood my decision, so he let me go without any disagreements.”

Now Cowboy storms up and grabs my shirt. “But that don’t change the fact that you’s his sibling.”

I defiantly stare straight at his dark, angry eyes. “I never said it did. My brodda may be a murderer, but I ain’t my brodda.”

“Hey!” By now Riff’s come back and is walk’n up to meet us. “This is why ya stormed out? Got a problem, Kelly? What’d she ever do to you?!”

“She don’t seem like your type-a Jet, Lorton.” Kelly sneers. “Ya didn’t tell me her brodda’s Carlos the Cobra!”

Riff simply shrugs. “Why would that matter?”

Blink cracks his knuckles. “‘Cause the Cobra killed Skip, one of our best guys. So it’s only fair that he pays. Maybe his sister can help us out with that…”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Riff ‘nd Mush get between Blink ‘nd me, with Jack still hold’n my shirt.

“I ain’t have’n none-a that!”

“Yeah, they’re right!” Crutchy suddenly pipes up. “Ángela’s done noth’n wrong, why should she be blamed for Cobra’s work?”

“What’s it to you, runt?” Now Action gets up by Crutchy and I can tell he don’t like him be’n so close to me.

Crutchy gulps, but still tries to stand up- but Action trips his crutch and sends Crutchy fall’n onto my lap. Action grabs my arm and yanks me up.

“Action- stop it! He ain’t try’n to hurt me-!”

“I don’t care.” He glares down at me, and I shrink under his gaze. I’s always been tougher than most goils in the West Side, but when it comes to Action I’s always been a bit skittish.

Crutchy sees this, and his face immediately twists into an angry sneer. “Get away from her!”

“Oh, so the runt actually can speak up!” Action pins him against the wall. “But can ya fight? What’re ya gonna go when we bust your odda leg, crip?”

“Action, puedes parar de hacer eso? Stop!” I try tug’n on his sleeve, but he just shoves me off and has Diesel pull me back.

He groans in annoyance. “English, Ángela! God, I hate it when you do that-!”

Action don’t even get to finish that sentence before Crutchy beats him to the pavement with his crutch, with both him ‘nd Riff yell’n over each odda.

“Action, what the Hell man?!”

“Don’t you dare say that about her!”

They squabble back and forth, and it’s all I can do to not break down cry’n while I stand in the background. I know I’ve always been different from the Jets, but Action was always determined to remind me of it. Just when I think I’d found a new family…

I start to wander off from the crowd-a feuding mobs, but then Crutchy catches up while Riff ‘nd Action continue to duke it out.

“Hey wait! Where-?” He notices my tears. “Ángela, what’s wrong?”

I hastily wipe my face and try to look away. “‘M fine. Why wouldn’t I be? I just had my entire heritage stomped to the ground by my own mafia family. It ain’t enough I’s related to a murderer, but now I ain’t ever gonna fit in no matter what. Just- just lemme alone, please!” I try to keep walk’n away but Crutchy limps next to me, even when I begin to climb the library stone stairs.

“I ain’t leave’n, ‘cause I don’t want you to feel alone-” He stumbles but manages to regain his footing.

Quickly, I lend him an arm and help him up the steps. “Crutchy, why on Earth would ya risk fall’n just to walk with me?”

“Nah, you’d think it was cheesy,” he hangs his head.

His innocent face makes me smile. “Aw, c’mon! What’re ya think’n, Charlie?”

At the use of his name, Crutchy looks up and grins. “Uh, ok. But promise me ya won’t laugh!”

I hold up my hand on my heart. “Scout’s honor, I won’t.”

“Ok. I was think’n… You give me a reason to stand up.”

After hear’n this, I look at Crutchy with a warm smile. “Crutchy, that’s… so sweet! Why would I think that’s cheesy?”

“I donno. It kinda is? But I mean it. You- you seem like a nice goil, and uh…” He licks his lips nervously. “I’d maybe wanna spend sme time with ya?”

Now I bring the wonderful man in for a tight hug- which at first he tenses up but then melts into me.

“Charlie, you’d really wanna hang out with the sister of a murderer? None-a our lives are peaches ‘nd cream, ya know.”

Crutchy nods. “But you’s been treated wrong all your life just ‘cause your brodda messed up, and I’s sorry that I felt that way ‘bout you before I knew ya. I don’t want you to feel alone, like I was in the Refuge.”

I gasp. “You was in the Refuge?”

Crutchy nods. “Few years ago, when Cowboy arranged a meeting with Brooklyn at Medda’s joint. Pulitzer got word of it and sent Krupke ‘nd the Delancys to drown us out. Jack made it out after I caused a distraction, but them Delancys beat me up real good. Carted me off to the Refuge, which is basically a living Hell.” He shutters. “Sat in there a few weeks ‘til Jack busted me out.”

I grab Crutchy’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Charlie, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Woid on the street is that nobody wants to end up there. Ever. Action might be a prick sometimes, but I’d take that a thousand times over the Refuge.”

Crutchy gives a shy smile and rubs my hand with his thumb. “So… ya wouldn’t mind me spend’n time with ya?”

I give a care-free smile. “No, Charlie! I’d luv to hang out with ya, even if Action tries to kill me for it.” Maybe there’s a bright star in my future after all…

Crutchy’s smile widens as we continue to walk, and behind me I can barley hear Mush say: “Oh great, now Ángela’s with Crutchy! Donno how Cowboy’s gonna take it…”

Let them argue, my mind determines. I won’t let my brodda define who I am or what I want. And right now I wanna be with Crutchy.

[lxvingmrknight]

When watching newsies becomes your whole personality trait :)

[intricatechaosofyou]

Chapter 1: Santa Fe (Prologue)

The rustling of fabric awakened Laces from her restless sleep. The rooftop wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, but it was better than the stuffy heat of the lodging house in the middle of July. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she noticed Crutchie slipping his vest and cap on. She was about to say something, but Jack beat her to it.

"Hey! Where ya goin'? The morning bell ain't rung yet. Go back ta sleep," he whined. Although the boy was considered the "fearless" leader of the Lower Manhattan Newsies, he could act particularly childish when he was woken up.

Crutchie just let out a silent chuckle and continued to button up his vest. "I wanna beat the other fellas ta the street. I don't want anyone to see I ain't been walkin' so good."

"Oh, quit your griping. Ya know how many people fake a limp fa sympathy? That bum leg of yours is a goldmine."

Crutchie rolled his eyes and limped over to the ladder. "Someone gets the idea I can't make it on my own, they'll lock me up in the refuge for good. Now, why don't you two be pals and help me down?" He asked. As he attempted to climb down himself, too impatient to wait for help, he lost his footing. Gasping, he held onto the ladder for dear life.

Laces nearly screamed as he fell and rushed over to pull the boy back onto the roof, Jack close on her heels. "What, ya wanna bust up your otha' leg too?" She asked angrily.

Crutchie smiled sheepishly once he was safely seated on the roof again. "No, I wanna go down."

"You'll be down there soon enough. Take in my... my penthouse! High above the stinkin' streets of New York," Jack declared, staring off at the sun that was beginning to peak over the skyscrapers that lined the skyline.

"You're crazy." Crutchie's comment was filled with affection as he stared at his friend.

"What? Cause Ise like a breath of fresh air? Cause Ise like seein' the sky and the stars?"

"You're seeing stars alright," Crutchie teased as Laces hid her snigger behind her hand.

Jack rolled his eyes at his two best friends before turning back out to the skyline. "Those streets down dere...they sucked the life right outta my ol' man. Years a' rotten jobs, starved on by bosses, and when they finally broke him, they tossed him to the curb just like yesterday's paper. Well, they ain't doin' that ta me!"

"But everyone wants ta come ta New York," Laces pointed out.

"And New York is fine for those who got a big, strong door ta lock it out. But Ise is telling you two, there's a whole otha' life out there!" Jack sighed wistfully as he leaned against the railing. "You keep your small life in a big city. Give me a big life in a small town."

"They say folks is dyin' to get here.

Me? I'm dying to get away,

to a little town out west that's spankin' new.

And while I ain't never been there,

I can see it clear as day.

If you want, I betcha you could see it, too!"

Jack smiled and rounded on both Crutchie and Laces. The two shared an amused glance as Jack came up to them.

"Close your eyes.

Come with me,

where it's clean and green and pretty,

and they went and made a city out of clay."

Jack put an arm around each of their shoulders as he described the fantasy he had dreamed about too many times to count.

"Why the minute that you get there,

folks'll walk right up and say,

'Welcome home, son, welcome home to Santa Fe.'

Planting crops,

splitting rails,

swapping tales around the fire"

Suddenly, Laces interjected with an idea of her own.

"'Cept for Sunday when you lie around all day."

Jack nodded in agreement.

"Soon your friends are more like family

and they's begging you to stay.

Ain't that neat?

Living sweet, in Santa Fe."

Crutchie gazed longingly out at the skyline as he imagined the life Jack had described. It sounded too good to be true. "You got folks there?"

Scoffing, Jack shook his head. "Ise don't got folks nowhere. What? You?"

Both Crutchie and Laces shook their heads. "Wese don't need folks. We got friends."

"Hey! How's about you two come with me!" Jack exclaimed, eyes glinting with the idea of living out his fantasy with his two best friends at his side. "No one worries about no gimp leg in Santa Fe! You just hop a palomino! You're riding in style!"

"Picture me: riding in style," Crutchie mumbled with a small laugh, slowly starting to believe Jack's fantasy could be true.

"Maybe with a few months of clean air, you could toss that crutch for good!" Laces suggested as she grabbed Crutchie's arm.

The three friends shared glances, dreaming of a life where they weren't scrounging for pennies and hawking papers to survive.

"Santa Fe!

You can bet

we won't let them bastards beat us!

We won't beg no one to treat us fair and square.

There's a life that's worth the living

and I'm gonna do my share!"

Jack smiled and grabbed onto the railing.

"Work the land!"

Laces stood next to him, mimicking his stance.

"Chase the sun!"

The two put an arm around each other before singing together.

"Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fun!"

Then, Crutchie stood tall as he could as the rising sun basked him in a golden glow.

"Watch me stand!

Watch me run..."

The boy trailed off as reality suddenly crashed down on him. As much as he wanted Jack's fantasy to be true, there was little chance his leg would actually heal.

Jack and Laces both noticed his change in attitude and immediately wrapped their friend in a hug.

"Don't you know that wese a family?

Would we let you down?

No way.

Just hold on kid,

till that train makes Santa Fe."

The morning bell rang from somewhere in the distance, alerting newsies across the city that it was almost time to start the day. It was time to let the idea of Santa Fe fade back into a fantasy.

"Time for dreaming's over," Jack sighed as he leaned over the side of the roof to yell to the rest of his newsies. "Specs, Racer, Henry, Elmer, Albert, get a move on! Them papes don't sell themselves!"

With a final sigh, Laces pulled on her faded green overshirt and prepared to start the day.

[avengers-hamiltrash]

Updated: July 10, 2022

x Reader: *

Crutchie/Charlie Morris

Headcanons

Hurt!Crutchie*

Jack Kelly

One Shots

Don’t Bother Me*

Family

Javid

One Shots

Basorexia

Blurbs

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

Snowfall

Ralbert

Headcanons

Ralbert Babysitting

Sparah

One Shots

Art Classes 

Sprace

Blurbs

Smoking Destroys Your Relationship

Multi-Ship/No Ship

Blurbs

Jatherine, Newsbians, Javid - Apple Pie

Davey, Albert, Race, & Jojo - Makeup

[thatisscandalous]

Panic Attack

Crutchie x Fem!reader

Part ⅓

Part 2

The Refuge. Every orphan’s nightmare in the streets of New York in 1899. Everyone tried to avoid getting caught; they didn’t want to know what would happen to them if they did get thrown into that place. Except, (Y/N) actually got thrown in there. It was worse than what anyone untouched by those horrors could ever imagine. There were rats, everywhere. Strangely, it was either always too cold or too hot, never in the middle. The beds were hardly beds, and there weren’t very many of them. There were multiple kids in a bed, and the beds were so small. They were starved, they didn’t get hardly any food. But that wasn’t the worst part. The children there were abused, beaten, every day. Some got it worse than others, depending on how they defended themselves and how ‘disrespectful’ they were being. They were whipped, punched, and even cut with knives by the wicked men that worked for the warden. Sometimes, the warden would step in. Very few kids escaped, lots of them dying, and those who didn’t pass away eventually got tossed into actual jail, for adults if they aged out. And really they were doing the kids a service by making them better able to slip through the bars on the windows.

(Y/N) was already slim and lanky to begin with, having not been fed much as a child. Of course, she got fed when she was with the newsies, but her build was set in stone. So, the complete lack of food made her to be nothing but skin and bones. She was small enough to slip through the bars of the window, landing on the ground with a thump. She hauled herself up and made her way to the lodging house, where she was warmly welcomed and cared for by the newsies. Crutchie stayed by her side all week. 

A few weeks later, and Y/N is back in shape, visibly. She’s stopped showing signs of trauma, too, tucking it deep inside and refusing to show it to the newsies. But what they didn’t know was that the reason she took so long in the bathroom was because she cried, and her sleep was plagued with nightmares. She refused to show weakness, though, as she feared appearing weak being the last straw. To make herself feel a bit better, she decided to steal Race’s hat, wanting to have a good laugh. 

“Where is my hat?” the boy bellowed, not being able to find the staple item of a newsboy outfit.

She laughed, hiding her face behind her own hat. The angered boy stomped around, looking for his hat. After ten or so minutes of watching him, she finally spoke up.

“Ey Racer! You’se lookin’ fa’ this?” she held the gray hat up, grinning cheekily.

“Ya little-” the boy cut himself off, and instead stormed over to her. “Seriously!” he yelled. “Seriously? You could’ve done it to anyone else or maybe not even have done it at all! What is ya problem?”

As Race yelled, he flailed his arms around. (Y/N)’s eyes grew wide, and she stepped back from the angry boy, flinching. Her eyes watered, and her throat burned. Her chest felt heavy, like something was blocking it, and she couldn’t breathe. Everything looked blurry, and she couldn’t hear the newsies talking to her. A wave of nausea passed through her, and she felt suddenly dizzy. Black dots clouded her vision, and she felt warm tears pouring out of her eyes. Her breathing became labored, and she knew that she was having a panic attack. She couldn’t focus on anything. All she knew was that she needed to get out, so she ran out the exit and into a bunk room, which conveniently happened to be her room. Crutchie was there, too. She didn’t notice him, though, as she was sort of amid a panic attack. She sat on the floor, shaking, crying, breathing heavily, and she sobbed, bringing her limbs towards her body. A hand touched her, and she flinched, before realizing that it was just Crutchie.

She tried to talk to him, but the lack of air sent her wheezing in the attempt.

“Shhh,” he consoled her. “It’s alright, (Y/N/N). You’se here, in the lodging house. You’se don’t gotta talk, it’s just me Crutchie. Can I touch you’se?” he asked. 

She nodded, still struggling to come out of the panic attack. She knew that if she kept it up, she would faint, and that would not be good. 

He hugged her gently, and she grabbed onto his shirt, squeezing it like her life depended on it.

“It’s alright, darling. You’se alright. We’se ain’t gonna hoit ya,” he whispered into her hair. “Just listen to me breathe, listen. Let’s breathe together, alright? Everything’s gonna be okay. Let’s breathe together,” he gingerly rubbed her back. He breathed, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, each lasting about four seconds. He whispered sweet nothings into (Y/N)’s hair, making sure that she was comfortable.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asked, when all that was left of her panic attack was hiccups.

“I stole Race’s hat. He got real mad, started yellin’ at me. He flailed his arms around. Crutchie, I thought he was gonna hit me. It’s stupid-” she explained, and was cut off by Crutchie.

“It’s not stupid. You’ve been exposed to traumas that no otha’ kid should eva hafta go through. It’s alright, perfectly normal,” he assured her.

“Thanks, Crutch. But now they all thinks I’m a wuss. What if they decide ta’ kick me out?” she looked up at him, more tears building in her eyes.

“They won’t, trust me,” he smiled.

“Those memories! The refuge was awful. Rats, no food, the abuse, tiny beds, multiple kids to a bed. Promise me, Crutchie, that you won’t ever get into the refuge?” she shuddered, holding out her pinky.

“I promise, (Y/N). Now why don’t we go to bed, let’s take a nap, yeah?” he coaxed her towards her bed, wrapping his pinky finger around hers.

“Alright,” she nodded.

“Alright,” he smiled back at her.

[stuckinthesmalldoor]

Newsies

Katherine Pulitzer

Newsies rambling (Katherine Pulitzer)

Francis “Jack Kelly” Sullivan

David “Davey” Jacobs

Racetrack Higgins 

Albert DaSilva

Other Newsies:

Pairings:

It wasn’t Manhattan [Jack Kelly x Davey]

It was calm and gentle, it was what he dreamt of. It was Santa Fe. It wasn’t Manhattan