#i did an earlier one for him but i had the newsies canon in mind

[aceofspades-sml]

Brooklyn's here

Hey guess who finally wrote something !

This one is from a request by @and-we-will-fight-for-you , you requested angst/comfort kissing in the rain fic a while ago and I totally did not get carried away with the angst

Anyway I felt the need to write something for valentine's day and I wanted something sweet but then angsty Sprace hit me so I went with this instead

Canon era Sprace, this one takes place between King of New York and the rally !

Warnings : mention of violence, very slight violence, hints at trauma and anxiety bc it's canon era sprace what else do you want

You can also find it on ao3 here

*

Race was leaning face against the wall, his head in his arms, trying to catch his breath.

How could he have been stupid enough to think they would be okay ?

It had been okay, really, for a moment. When they were at Jacobi's, all he could think about, all any of them could think about, was their small but significant victory. They had their picture in the papes ! They all let themselves drown in the euphoria, so that they wouldn't have to think about what had happened earlier.

And then it had all gone wrong, when they had gone back to the Lodging House and Specs had come in with the news of Crutchie. He had said that he was in the Refuge, trying not to look too concerned about it, which had made most of the kids feel better. At least he wasn't dead.

They couldn't know.

Then Specs had pulled Race aside with Albert and Finch, so that the youngest ones wouldn't hear them, and told them the other part of the story. That Crutchie was looking bad, real bad. That he could barely even walk. That the Spider was probably gonna take it all out on him, since he was the only Newsie they managed to catch.

So Race had to get out. He didn't even know where he wanted to go, he just needed something else. He didn't want to face the sadness, the anger and the fear in his friends' eyes.

He didn't understand why he felt this bad. Sure, they had all been soaked, but nothing they hadn't seen before. Except before they had never got in trouble all at once. Before, they had always had their leader here, to comfort them and tell them it was going to be okay.

So yeah, maybe this explained why Race was sad, and scared out of his mind, but somehow it wasn't the worst. He felt betrayed. Not just because of Jack, but because the one person that could have helped them had abandoned them.

Until that moment, Race had hoped he would come to help. Brooklyn wasn't just gonna let them loose, were they ? Some Newsies from Brooklyn had even become friends with the ones from Manhattan, they couldn't just let them get soaked without saying a word, right ?

Now he realized how stupid he had been.

He wanted to punch something.

He wanted to keep running forever, run so that all he could think about was his heart beating, his feet hitting the ground, his breath getting heavier. So that he didn't have to think about the bruises on his face. About Crutchie, about Jack. About Brooklyn.

But he needed to catch his breath eventually. So he stopped and leaned against a wall in some alleyway, his throat so sore he couldn't even let out the scream that had been growing in his chest.

Only then did he notice he was completely soaked. It had started raining at some point in the evening, and he hadn't even noticed.

Great. That's all we needed.

He almost wanted to laugh at how absurd all this was. He was just standing here, in the rain, crying and not even knowing where he was.

God, you are so pathetic.

"Hey, what are ya doing here ?"

The angry voice was enough for Race to hold back his tears. He felt a hand on his shoulders and stiffened, still not turning his head toward the newcomer. He didn't need to, nor did he want to.

He wanted to punch someone.

"Racer ?"

The other boy's voice softened immediately, anger replaced with concern.

"Hey, kid, ya okay ?"

Race chuckled darkly and turned around, throwing the other's hand off his shoulder.

"Yeah, Spot, I'm okay. No thanks to you."

"What do ya-" Spot frowned, realizing what Race looked like. "Wait, what happened to your face ?"

"Oh, so ya care now, uh ?", Race snapped back. He wasn't feeling like being nice, especially not with him.

"Racetrack, tell me what happened."

"Yeah ? So what ? So then ya can go back to Brooklyn and keep goin' on with yer life ?"

The king of Brooklyn flinched slightly. When he had told Jack he wouldn't help right away, he wasn't thinking those 'Hattan idiots would actually get in trouble. But of course they did, and it seemed to have gone about as well as he could have expected. Though this seemed worse. He had seen Race getting beaten up before, the boy had a talent for getting in trouble, but now he looked really messed up.

"We got soaked, if ya wanna know so bad. All of us. The Delanceys, and goons, dozens of 'em. Beat the shit outta us." Race spat the words out, glad to have someone he could aim his anger at. Even when he saw Spot frown and open his mouth to talk, he didn't stop. "Remember Crutchie ? He's in the Refuge, with Snyder the spider. And Jack might as well be dead for all we know."

"Wait, Jack is what ?"

"That's right. No that you'd care, anyway. Ya can go back to Brooklyn now, I can handle myself. We don't need you."

Race felt like he had crossed a line. He had never talked that way to Spot Conlon before. Probably no one had ever talked to Spot Conlon that way before. Except right now, he couldn't possibly have cared less.

"Listen, kid…" Spot didn't even know what he wanted to say. He couldn't possibly get mad at Race, not after what he had told him. I'm sorry ? Yeah, right. That sounded a bit easy now.

Race shook his head with a bitter frown and turned away. He didn't even want to look Spot in the eyes.

No. You don't want Spot to see your face. Stop crying. Hey, don't cry, stupid.

"Racetrack, loot at me !"

Spot grabbed him by the arm and forced him to turn around, but before he could say anything else the other boy pushed him back so hard he fell flat on the ground.

"Don't touch me !"

"Racer-"

"C'mon, Spot ! What, ya think ya can just show up and pretend like everythin' is gonna be okay ? Cause it damn sure ain't !"

He saw something flash in Spot's eyes, though he didn't know what it was. It wasn't anger, which surprised Race. Guilt ? Nah, not him. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn the king of Brooklyn was feeling… sad ?

That's ridiculous. Spot isn't sad. He doesn't even care what you's saying.

Well, Race didn't care, either.

When Spot got up and took a step toward him, a pleading look on his face, Race punched him in the chest. Not real hard, Race had never been a fighter, but Spot still looked pretty hurt.

Good for him.

Spot took a few steps back, wincing. If it had been anyone else he would have punched right back, but he knew Race had every right to be mad at him. "Racer, listen to me-"

Before he could say anything else Race tried hitting him again, but so weakly that Spot managed to catch his arm, forcing the boy to look at him.

"Race, look, I'm sorry ! I didn't think you would-"

"Yeah ?" Race snapped, trying to get Spot's hand off his arm. "Then why didn't ya show up earlier ? Jack and Mouth told ya we'd need help, didn't they ?"

Still gripping the boy's arm, Spot couldn't do anything but nod slowly. He knew he had messed up, but somehow seeing Race on the verge of tears was even worse than hearing his reproaches. He had never seen his friend snap at someone like this before. The only time Race had looked that messed up was…

When he got back from the Refuge.

"If ya had shown up earlier, none of this woulda happened ! Now Crutchie is in the Refuge and might as well be dead 'cause of ya ! Jack-" Race felt his voice breaking and fought back tears.

He refused to cry in front of Spot Conlon. He refused to cry for Spot Conlon. Oh, great, he was crying now.

"We don't even know where Jack is !"

Spot shook him by the arm, firmly enough for Race to stop talking. "Racetrack, will you just shut up and listen to me ?"

Race wanted to scream at him, to hit him as hard as he could, but he didn't even have any energy left. All he could do was nod, his look still dark enough for Spot to understand he should be careful.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay ? We should… I should have done somethin' earlier. I didn't believe Jackie boy and the Mouth guy were serious about this whole thing. And I didn't think you guys from 'Hattan would actually get yourselves into the fight."

"Yeah, guess we are that stupid." Spot struggled to hold back a smirk. Knowing Race, sarcasm was progress. Well, it was better than screaming, anyway.

"We's gonna look for Jack, okay ? All of us. And we'll find a way to get Crutchie outta there. It's gonna be okay, Racer."

Race couldn't help but snort through his tears.

"Yeah ? And how's ya planning to fix this ?"

Spot really didn't have an answer for that. Mostly because, unlike what Race had made himself believe, he was feeling guilty, and also because right now anything he could think of saying would feel insufficient, considering what he had done. Or rather, hadn't done.

So instead he did what he had wanted to do since he found him in the alley, what he had wanted to do ever since the day he met this annoying little shit that was Racetrack Higgins, all those years ago.

He kissed him.

He didn't know what he was doing, he hadn't planned to do this, none of them had. For a moment he thought Race was just gonna push him away and get even angrier. So when Race finally kissed him back, he felt relief wash over him.

Many thoughts flashed through Race's mind.

What the hell is happening ?

Oh yeah, kissing in the rain while crying. God, that's so pathetic. Can you get any more cliché ?

And finally did Spot fucking Conlon just kiss me ?

When they pulled away, both of them out of breath and eyes wide in shock, Spot noticed Race was on the verge of tears again and almost panicked. Okay, kissing him definitely did not fix this.

When Race reached for him, he flinched slightly, thinking the boy was still mad at him, but he threw his arms around Spot and clung to him like his life depended on it. After a moment of confusion, Spot hugged him back and waited for Race to stop shaking.

What the hell is happening right now ?

"We're gonna get cold" Race muttered eventually, his face crooked in the other boy's neck.

"Don't care." Spot answered softly, though he guided Race under an awning nearby to protect them from the rain.

He wiped Race's tears away with his thumb and pulled back a little to look at him.

"C'mon, gotta get ya back to 'Hattan."

Race nodded, still holding on to Spot, until realization of something seemed to hit him and he looked back at the other boy, furrowing his eyebrows.

" Wait- why were you even out there in the first place ?"

Spot sighted. "I wanted to talk to Jack. Like I said, I'm sorry I didn't come earlier."

Race's eyes widened when he realized what Spot had been trying to say.

"Ya don't mean-" His face was now beaming, and Spot smirked in return, happy to see Race seemingly back to his normal self.

"That's right, Racer. Ya got Brooklyn."

And, because he knew that was what Race needed to hear, he added "You got me."

Race punched him playfully, smiling. "You'se such a jerk, Spot Conlon."

"Racetrack Higgins, did ya just punch me ?" Spot was trying to look mad, and desperately falling.

"Yeah, what's you gonna do about it ?"

Spot shook his head with a smirk. This was gonna be complicated, and they definitely would need to have a long conversation about it later. But at least now they had something to hold on to. And in the following days, they would most likely be needing that.

Maybe it was gonna be okay after all.

[heyarace]

What Are Your Muse’s Aesthetics?

BOLD all that apply

(+ ITALICISING all that sort of / might apply)

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. olive green. slate blue.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. ether. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. acid.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine.scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. flexible. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staves. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. [ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk.velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. latex. spandex. [ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs.spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats. octopus. fox.livestock. [ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables.fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia. [ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolours. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching.fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. CDs. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running. [ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. [ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power.percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness.happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. minions. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

Tagged by: @discipulusmaleficus

Tagging: @st-riley-the-brave, @werewxlfcflondon, @puckishone, @kirablackisback (if you’d like! i can’t remember who has done it or already been tagged because I’m lame, sorry!)

[willowistic22]

Hey :)

For your post concerning Ikeshot - would you maybe consider writing an Ikeshot Soulmate AU during the canon era?

Thanks in advance

left this in my drafts for the whole month bcs i was doing no content november which was definitely not used as an excuse of me not wanting to fight off my writers block heheheheheheheh spoiler alert : it was. but i got around to write this one so i hope it suffice! i mean i hope so bcs it ended up being 2.5k words long lol! 

So pls enjoy my canon era ikeshot soulmate au! the concept is where soulmate marks are in the form of the first things your soulmate says to you when you guys meet. also ik this will kinda flop since it’s a rarepair but pls do your best to not let it flop :) 

Ike doesn’t like the thought of soulmates. Not one bit. Well, at first he liked the idea of having someone out there waiting for him. He doesn’t need a mark of any kind to tell him that. He knows it on his own terms. But there was a little bit of excitement that exploded in his stomach when his soulmate mark appeared on his forearm. And it was… weird to say the least. 

He got his mark a year earlier than his twin brother, right on their 13th birthday. A delicate black writing engraved in the skin of his forearm. The soulmate mark stories he has ever heard were about people with sweet sayings engraved in their skin. It was all romantic, innocent, and soft spoken words tread lightly by the lips of their lover to be. But Ike’s? It was downright strange. None of those sappy and sweet stuff people say when the subject is about soulmates. Which is why Ike never bothered showing it off. He has heard enough jokes from Mike about that text. 

And here’s the kicker for his situation: despite getting his soulmate mark a year earlier, Mike was somehow granted the gift of getting a sweet soulmate line and meeting his soulmate first! That really pissed Ike off. 

He’s left with his thoughts on that subject this evening, carefully holding up his forearm while he lies on the top bunk he and his brother call their own. The words on his forearm echoes inside of his brain as he strokes the ink on his skin, blocking out the loud Lower Manhattan lodging house. He’s bound to meet his soulmate eventually. He’s sixteen for crying out loud! Mike met his when they were fifteen. So this mysterious soulmate of his has to turn up any time now. They have to. Ike doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself entertained with stringless flings and flirtings with random guys in secret. 

Ike sighs desperately, dropping both his arms above his head and onto his thin pillow. He wished he was tired enough to go to sleep already since he doesn’t have anything to do before the lights go out in the lodge. He peaks down towards the lower bunk. Ike sees his brother fast asleep, cuddled into his lover’s embrace. Two chests, rising and falling at their own different slow pace. 

It’s not that Ike ever had a problem with Mike’s soulmate, the only problem is that Ike hasn’t met his and constantly feels lonely with the presence of the couple. Ike didn’t believe his brother when he said his soulmate turned out to be Jo Jo. Not only is Jo Jo practically a total opposite of Mike, Jo Jo is also out of his league. There’s no way a kind hearted, properly brought up, bright smiled boy would end up with a scruffy idiot like his brother. But the more time he spends with the two, the more he sees how compatible they are with each other. 

Ike is happy that they found someone to make each other happy, even in their sleep. He’s just sad for himself that he hasn’t found the one for him yet. Third wheeling is the worst thing Ike has ever discovered in his life. 

He sits back up properly, letting both legs dangle freely down the bunk. Ike puts on his newsie cap and his vest that was left hanging on the bedpost before jumping down the bunk. 

Unfortunately he wasn’t being careful and accidentally woke someone below him from the loud thud his feet made when it came in contact with the old wooden floor of the lodge. 

“Where are you… going?” a voice groaned.

Ike turns his head towards the lower bunk to see Mike lifting his head up slightly from where it was resting, rubbing his eyes a little bit to enhance his vision. He’d sit up straight, but one of his hands is strapped down to the mattress by a certain head full of brown curls. 

“Not tired yet. Think I’ll get myself busy” Ike replied. Before turning back to his original direction, he catches his brother’s eyes before he lets himself fall back asleep again, “Got a pack?” 

Mike snorts to himself with an eye roll, but it ends with a low chuckle. He gestures his head towards his vest left hanging up high on the bedpost, “Check my vest. I’se think there’s still half in there” 

Untangling the vest from itself, Ike sees one of its pockets forming a rectangular shape through the fabric. He slips his hand in it and fishes out a pack of cigarettes. His hand doesn’t feel the usual light weight of the tiny box he usually feels after getting himself a fresh pack. This one feels so much lighter, like there’s a lot of room in it. But Ike could still feel a few stems moving inside. 

“Don’t finish the whole thing” Mike added. 

Ike simply smirks down at him, turning around with the pack in hand. He calls out, “No promises!” 

“Pay me back if you do finish it!” 

“Also no promises!” 

“Little shitter” 

Ike turns his head around, and an offended look on his face as the twins’ old inside joke has resurfaced from the past. In the calmest way possible, yet still obviously annoyed, Ike voices out, “Fuck off, alright?” 

“No promises!” 

Mike laughs at his brother’s obvious annoyance. At the same time, Jo Jo starts to stir in his sleep. He stops laughing, directing his full focus on the boy shifting in his arms. Jo Jo groans as he flips to face away from Mike, letting out a long and peaceful sigh once he gets comfortable. 

Ike watches as his brother lays back down, holding Jo Jo a little tighter than before. The couple is enveloped back by their slumber just like before. 

There’s that jealousy resurfacing in Ike’s heart as his eyes linger at the sight of the lower bunk. But despite it, he is actually happy to see Mike like this. Being happy with his soulmate doing whatever. It’s a different kind of happy. It’s the kind that Ike longs for. 

He pushes that thought away for a while, walking through the loud lodging house. Some newsies went to sleep earlier, somehow being able to ignore all the commotion caused by their friends. Some are also just hanging out with others while they wait for the lights to go out. 

Ike chooses to be alone this evening. Accompanied by a cigarette or two, and maybe his own thoughts he’d like to sort out. He’d walk out the front door downstairs to smoke in an alleyway, but he knows the downstairs are currently occupied. Jack had warned everyone to avoid going downstairs because the borough leaders are having a little meeting. 

So Ike decides on the fire escape, since it already leads directly to the alleyway. Ike slips out the window, instantly noticing the lovely evening air. His only view is a dull brick wall with trash scattered around the ground, but he doesn’t really mind as the street ambience makes him feel less lonely. 

He notes the fire escape being a little wet, since it previously did rain a bit. He nearly slipped when he first stepped on the metal bars, but was able to balance himself pretty quickly. 

But to no avail, his feet clumsily slips away from their grip on the fire escape. It sends him falling down with a loud yelp, passing through the little gap in the fencing reserved for the ladder and onto the concrete floor in the dirty alleyway. 

Ike was disoriented when he rose back up from his fall. One hand on the ground to help support his back as he recovers from the impact, and the other rubbing the pain on his head away. He realized the pack of cigarettes is long gone. What he doesn’t realize is why the fall isn’t as painful as he thought it would be. 

He glances over to his legs, which he realized just now that it was tangled with something else. Someone else. They were groaning in pain as they rose back up. He catches a glimpse of the face once it was finally lifted off the ground, smudge by a little bit of mud. 

Oh shit.

Ike fell on another boy who obviously looks like he’s twice his own size. Not that he thinks he can’t take him on in a fight if he asks for one, but right now he’s too disoriented to even figure out how to punch straight. He quickly gets up on his feet, giving the stranger some space so he can recollect himself. 

“Oh look, the universe has thrown me a little shitter from the sky to ruin the rest of my already shitty day! Is there anything you can possibly do to magically make it better?!”

The words were uttered as the stranger got back up on his feet, revealing himself to be a tall and muscled figure. The mud also got on a little strand of his dark brown hair and his eyes were squinted with fury. But Ike wasn’t focused on any physical features this stranger has. He’s more focused with the words that he uttered. Words that Ike knows by heart by now. 

“What?” The stranger growled, deep and raspy. He realized the boy was astonished by something, but was certain it isn’t in any form of fear. 

“Do you have any idea how much shit I get with that written on my hand?! It made me look like I’m a fuckin’ dumbass my whole life!” Ike started his little rant, a little bit of rage building up from the pits of his stomach, “Oh, but of course I’se stuck with a huge asshole that doesn’t know how to be a decent human being and give a guy a break!” 

The stranger stays completely still, lips slightly parted. 

“How do you think I feel with that?” 

He shows his soulmate mark on his right forearm to Ike. A smaller font size and a longer paragraph written on his skin. Ike almost wanted to laugh. 

“Hey!” 

The two boys turn their attention towards the sound. Just outside the alleyway, right on the sidewalk where the rest of the world is, three tall men stood. There isn’t enough light for either boys to identify who they are, but given from the vague shadow they can sense trouble. 

As the three men take a few steps closer, letting a little lamp stuck to the wall illuminate their figures, they reveal themselves as the bulls. 

The boys activated their flight instinct, running towards the other end of the alleyway. The bulls chased after them while telling them to stop. Ike, being the smaller one, runs ahead and leads the chase. Hopping from one sidewalk to the other, crossing the roads without looking. 

Jacobi’s deli came into view in the corner of the block, despite being unlit. Ike kept running towards that corner and took a sharp turn. He makes another sharp turn towards an alley, just next to the deli. He hides in a little corner the deli has created. He has gotten away from so many troubles by hiding in this ‘wall bump’ because people miss it easily. 

He was surprised to see a large figure stopping right next to where Ike was hiding, huffing out heavy breaths of exhaustion. Ike said nothing at first, thinking it’s one of the bulls. He simply watches the figure hunching over their knees, trying to recollect themselves from the chase. 

But after a few seconds, he realizes it was the same boy he just met at the alleyway. His soulmate. To that, he widens his eyes and gasps under his breath. 

Oh crap, if he keeps on standin’ there we’ll get caught! 

“Hey!” Ike whisper shouted. 

The boy was still disoriented from all that running, but he was still able to pick up the voice. 

He saw Ike hiding in the corner, but didn’t think much of it. To that, the smaller boy just rolled his eyes and grabbed him by his suspenders to pull him to the little corner to hide together. 

Ike peaked behind the little wall hiding them to see if the bulls that were chasing them had passed. Just as he suspected, they were clueless as to where they could be. The bulls went past the alleyway. Until Ike was sure that they’re gone, he lets out a relieved sigh and turns back to where he is.

He was surprised to be met by a chest, but soon remembered that he had another boy hiding with him. A very tall one. 

Ike looks up to his face. The details are much clearer now. Brown locks, strong jawline, brown eyes, ivory tinted face with a few smudges of ash and dirt. The face sculptured... so perfectly. 

Ike only realized this now. Staring up at it, taking in every detail before him. Cheeks a little heated up when his head realizes how close they’re being. Chest to chest and Ike is up against a wall. 

And the other boy… he stared back. Just as frozen and shocked as he is. 

“I-I didn’t catch your name earlier” Ike mustered up the last bit of concentration to get that out. 

“My friends call me Hotshot” 

“Hotshot…” Ike repeated, nodding along without getting his eyes off of him. 

“But… you can call me Tyler. Y-y’know if you… wanna use my real name” Hotshot said with a little awkward cough at the end. 

“Oh…”

Ike has no idea what’s happening right now. All he knows is there’s a cute guy right in front of his nose, who is his so called soulmate. They’re hiding in an alleyway, and neither seems to want to move away. They were both caught off guard by the beauty their eyes are being presented with in front of them. 

“I-I’m Ike, by the way…” Ike added on, realizing he hasn’t said his name yet, “It’s short for Isaac. Y’know, ‘cause my twin brother calls himself Mike and we wanted to-- y’know what? That’s too long to get into…” 

The two share a heartfelt laughter. Their hearts pumping faster than before, the other being able to feel it right through their chest. 

“So uhh… Ike…” Hotshot started, still staring down at the smaller boy, “About what I said earlier…” 

Ike started to laugh, remembering what he meant. 

“I’s want to apologize… is all” 

“Y-yeah, the same goes for me!” Ike added, “Well, I don’t know if we should even apologize. We were supposed to say that to each other anyways!” 

Another heartfelt laughter, sounding softer than the first one. It somehow made the moment even more serious as it slowly died down. Their gaze hasn’t left the other’s. Nor, does it seem like they want to in the first place. 

“Ike, can I… try somethin’?” Hotshot suddenly asked. 

Ike simply nods, not having any clue as to what he meant. The message behind that was soon cleared the moment Hotshot softly crashed his lips against his, pushing his head backwards and gently pinning it to the wall behind him. Ike moves his hands up to pull him by his suspenders. Hotshot brushes his finger on his jaw, angling him up for a better kiss. Their lips moved in sync perfectly and it felt good. Just like how they would picture a first kiss shared by a soulmate. 

[the-gay-trashmouth]

Rating: teen

Warnings: Internalized homphobia

Ship(s): Sprace

Era: Canon

Notes: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this hurt my soul just a little bit

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

Spot Conlon was many things.

He was a leader. He was a fighter. He was a Cuban-American sixteen-year-old boy with more Brooklyn pride than should be able to fit inside his five-foot-three body.

What Spot Conlon is not is a liar. So when is second in command asked him where the fuck he was going at midnight it was all the more believable when he shrugged noncommittally and said he had left his hat at the docks.

Well, believable for everyone else in the room other than Spades herself. She had played enough poker with the boy to know his tell. 

Spot Conlon bit the inside if his cheek when he lied, and he was biting the inside of his cheek hard. She gave him a pointed look at what to her was a blatant lie

He just glanced between her and the girl who's head was currently in her lap, raising an eyebrow in a challenge for her to say something. She rolled her eyes "fine then, keep your secrets, asshole"

He slipped out the door without further remark. Puffing up against the cold night air he headed toward the docks. At least he was truthful about one thing.

And when you really think about it, he was truthful about the reason he was going too. He really was going to get his hat, it's just that he was going to get it from Racetrack.

Spot scowled to himself, Racetrack Higgins was another thing altogether. He had this way of getting Spot to do things that Spot Conlon doesn't do.

He had him visiting the races just to see him, he had him blushing and losing sleep, he had him leaning in closer than he should.

He had him sneaking out at midnight to go get his stupid cap after Race had plucked it straight from his head, pulled him into an alley and whispered to "meet me at th'

docks" so close to Spot's ear that it made him shudder.

He shuddered again thinking about why Race might have asked him here. His mind wandered to places it shouldn't have. He started thinking maybe Race wanted to tell him something that no one else could hear, maybe he would be the one leaning in this time-

No. No no no. Spot Conlon is not a queer. So what if he's never had an interest in girls? He runs Brooklyn! He doesn't have time for feelings! And yeah, maybe he stares at Race's lips a little too much and maybe it is a little weird he let a Manhattan boy sell on his turf but that doesn't mean he's a queer!

Spot Conlon isn't a liar, but Race sure makes him lie to himself

He shook the thought from his head and hardened his expression as he approached the docks. He couldn't see Race anywhere so he assumed that he was just later then Spot was.

The Brooklyn boy leaned on a piling, staring out at the waves as his thoughts rolled in his mind.  He was so stuck in his mind he didn't notice the figure creeping up behind him until it was too late.

Arms draped across his shoulders and, without so much as a gasp, he ducked out of them, whipped around to face whoever the fuck thought it was a good idea to touch the king of Brooklyn, and swung his fist.

"Ah! Jeez Spotty!" The dumbass jumped back just in time for Spot' s fist to hit empty air and Spot realized that this wasn't just any dumbass, this was his dumbass! Ahem, the one he was going to see of course. That's what he meant. Shut up.

"Jesus Racer, the fuck were ya thinkin'? I woulda soaked ya" Spot leaned back against the piling whilst he masked his racing heart with a confident smirk.

Race scoffed and impishly punched Spot in the shoulder. "Please, I could take ya!"

Spot raised an eyebrow but didn't retaliate. "Zat so?"

The taller boy grinned and did it a few more times. "Yea, it sure is" flipped a coin from his pockets "wanna bet on it?"

Spot snorted, "ya know, I could use some easy cash" he snatched the coin out of the air before Race could catch it again and used his other hand to half-heartedly smack Race in the face.

Race laughed and punched him back then they were horsing around. It must have been quite a sight, two boys running around the docks at one in the morning with red cheeks and loud laughter, both trying to the pin the other or just get a few playful hits in.

Somehow Race got Spot pinned against a crate, holding his wrists above his head and using almost all of his body weight to keep him there whilst the shorter boy struggled half-heartedly.

They were both flushed and panting, grinning like the idiots who just chased each other around a dock at one in the morning they are.

"See, I told ya I could beat ya," Race said in between shallow breaths.

Spot just smirked "ya know, ya say that but," he kicked Race's feet out from under him and, when he stumbled, flipped them around to where Spot had Race's back pressed against the wood of the crate, "that wouldn't really be right, now would it?"

Race groaned "Oh fuck you, I almost had ya"

He just laughed "and yet ya didn't," he said, pressing Race to the crate just a little harder to prove his point.

Through all the excitement, Spot hadn't realized how close he and Race were, but the blush the painted Race's cheeks reminded him of his earlier dilemma. Namely, the whole 'I'm not queer but maybe a little bit' dilemma.

"Ya have a lot of freckles" Race breathed, bring a hand up to softly brush against the spots that gave the leader of Brooklyn his name. Spot forced down a shudder at the touch, he wasn't going to let Race know how much he affected him.

"They's called sunspots, 's how I got me name" he whispered, voice a little raspy.

"Huh," he paused, brushing his thumb across a few on his cheeks bones, and Spot let him.

He didn't move back, he didn't smack his hand away, he didn't laugh and say he was being a little queer. He just stood still, hands still fisted loosely in Race's overshirt.

"They's suits you" Spot flushed as Race smiled, hand still resting on the shorter boys cheek.

They were silent for a beat before something passed through Race's eyes and suddenly he was leaning in.  Going against every voice in his head screaming at him to run, to push Race away, soak him, anything! Spot met him in the middle, letting his eyes flutter closed as their lips brushed softly.

It wasn't much, just the soft press of his lips against Race's, but it left Spot breathless. When they pulled back after only a second his breathing was labored, just a bit.

Race didn't open his eyes, he scrunched them up as if when he opened them the world would end. His hand had moved down to Spot's shoulders, and his slight shaking was giving Spot anxiety.

He moved his hands from where they were still fisted in Race's shirt and moved them up to cup Race's face in his hands, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone with more gentleness then anyone would have thought possible coming from Spot Conlon, feared leader of Brooklyn.

Spot Conlon isn't gentle with anyone who's not Brooklyn, and yet here he was, holding another boy as if he was made if glass.

His eyes finally snapped open and searched Spot's for something. For what, you may ask? Spot doesn't know, but he didn't seem to find it as he just looked confused.

"You'se ain't gonna soak me?" He asked quietly, and the legitimate fear in his voice stirred something painful in Spot's chest. He brushed his thumb softly against his cheekbone again, rubbing slow, careful circles into the side of his cheek.

"Course I ain't, why would I do that?" He didn't dare raise his voice above a breath but he knew Race caught every word.

"Well, I'se a queer, an' I just kissed you, an' you'se like the most powerful newsie in New York-" Spot cut of his anxious rambles with another quick kiss.

"Do I not seem queer to you, Racer?" He said after he pulled back barely an inch.

"Youse serious?" He sounded as breathless as Spot felt and it made him braver, even if was just a little bit.

He smiled. Full out, teeth showing, squinty-eyed smiled and pressed his forehead to Race's. "Yeah, I 'se serious Racer"

Race laughed, breathless. "God I'm so glad I asked ya to meet me"

"Me too, Racer," he pressed a kiss to his lips again "me too"

So Spot Conlon may not lie, be gentle to anyone other than his newsies, let Hattan boys sell on his turf, meet boys on the docks just to get his cap back, or let boys kiss him breathless under the stars-

But Race was and always will be the exception.

[hellomisterriddle]

OC Questions Meme Pt.2

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”?

Basil, again! (He’s with his crush and bff, Chad, here~) He’s one of the friendliest OCs i think i have

12. Name an OC that isn’t yours but who you like a lot

CANON!!! Canon the Librarian!! My sweet summer child ;o; Canon belongs to my gf, @captainha-ha​ and her story, Canon the Librarian. #LetCanonBeHappyForLongerThan5Minutes2k18

13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs?

First that comes to mind is Galfar from The End. He’s a demon whose purpose is to basically be a troublemaker lol

14. Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory

oof which doesn’t lmao uhhhh okay let’s do Quinn Haphaz from Murders. 

So Quinn is a detective with the Dent City PD who basically got his job as a legacy--his dad was DCPD’s greatest detective. His dying wish was to the chief of the PD, and it was for Quinn to also be a detective. So the chief keeps him on the squad.

That being said...Quinn is the worst dectective on the force. He goes through partners like candy. All of them quit. Not bc Quinn is a dick or anything, he’s actually really sweet and caring, its cause he’s just...not the smartest guy. A magnet for trouble. He gets bullied by the rest of the department so much, he honestly doesn’t even realize its serious. He just thinks everyone is messing around. 

To top it off, his childhood wasn’t so great either. His dad who basically got him that job? He died when Quinn was 14. He made that promise to the Chief years before Quinn was even old enough to get the job. It was just him and his mother until she got cancer and died when he was 18. Not to mention the discrimination he’d face because he was mulitracial, his father was black and his mother korean. Quinn’s had it tough. But even though all that, he’s probably one of my most optimistic OCs. 

15. Do you like to talk about your OCs with other people?

Probably too much tbh lol cx

16. Which one of your OCs would be the best at biology (school subject)?

Sage Hawkins, she’s like a straight A student

17. Any OC OTPs?

They alll have someone, but OTPs?? Angel/Edward from It’s Complicated, Paragon/HotSpot from Neoapolis, and Basil/Chad from Notice Me

18. Any OC crackships?

LMAO oh yea. Its honestly an OTP of mine...Galfar/Canon, or GalCan Its only possible in AUs but oooooo i crave them LOL They came to be through an OC kiss meme I did that I was taken with once I drew it

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

I should have said this earlier, but Hester/HotSpot is gonna be coming up a lot lmao

That said, he’s definitely probably the OC that means a lot to me--like a lot a lot. In a way, he and I are basically the same person lmao I shoved a lot of what I hated about myself onto him, totally unconsciously at the time might i add!! So it shouldn’t have come to a surprise that I hated his fucking guts for the longest time lol like i legit hated him. I had plans of actually killing him off in the Neoapolis RP until my gf basically begged me to let him live. Reluctantly I did. But I also went a step forward and gave him a redemption arc.

Long story short, it took forever for me to realize that Hester was an extension of myself--of what I hated and eventually, of who I am and who I want to be as a person.

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)?

I have several who can sing! DJ and Edward from It’s Complicated, Quinn from Murders, Sage from Notice Me, and Hester from Neo

Of all of them only a few are developed. Like--DJ, Edwards, and Sage have nice singing voices, but don’t really do anything beyond like… humming to themselves or singing along to the radio. Well actually, Sage just doesn’t have time to do anything with her voice since she already does so much.

As for Quinn and Hester, Quinn has a sorta Rat Pack-esque voice and likes to sing those kinda songs too. He sings and hums during his free time both on and off the job. Friday nights he’ll go to this hole in the wall bar and sing for the patrons.

Hester, on the other hand, never gets to sing as much as he’d like. To keep up appearances, he doesn’t sing in public. He only sings at home and even then sometimes he only sings in his shower because he’s paranoid newsies have bugged his apartment. My HC voice for him is Matt Terry.

[safarikalamari]

Coin Flip (Tails)

Summary: Spot sees Race every day, but Race doesn’t notice him. That’s just fine with Spot.

Pairings: Spot/Jack, Spot/Race

Rating: G

Genre: Canon Era, Crushes, Slice of Life, Past Relationships

Words: 2197

A/N: Companion piece to the first Coin Flip story! The readers got me motivated to write a part from Spot’s POV. Also, don’t worry, no cheating happens in this

-

AO3

or

Spot remembered the day Race showed up in Brooklyn clear as day.

Race had followed Twisty around like a lost dog, begging and pleading to sell at Sheepshead until finally, Twisty had enough.

As Race bounded away, Twisty yanked Spot from his hiding place and pointed at Race’s retreating form. “Keep an eye on him. Report back to me.”

With a single nod, Spot trailed behind Race, blending in the streets whenever Race looked over his shoulder. He was glad Race had that much sense in him, but he couldn’t help his small laugh when they reached Sheepshead, Race blowing all his money on bets.

If he had just come to gamble, Twisty would have let Race be with no trouble.

Sitting outside the gate, Spot stared at the clouds, imagining their shapes as he waited for the races to be over. It was too long before the announcer spoke loud and clear from the stadium and Spot tucked himself in a nearby alley as he waited for Race to appear.

He was easy to find, a mess of a kid mixed in with fine gentlemen and squalors alike and Spot started on his tracking again. True to whatever promise Race had babbled on to Twisty, he went directly towards the bridge, a bounce in his step.

Spot scowled. If Race did as he was told, then this was going to be no fun at all.

~

Race came every day.

Spot had hoped to have some days without spying on Race, but as soon as Twisty was alerted of Race’s arrival, there was Spot two steps behind.

Making sure his papers had been sold quickly, Spot took to whittling as he waited for Race to leave Sheepshead. It was better than staring at the sky and Spot looked over the bird in his hand.

“Dove?” A voice pulled Spot from his thoughts and he squinted.

“Nah, pigeon, Kelly.”

Jack shrugged, plucking the wooden bird from Spot’s hand. “Look all the same to me when they’re like this. Should let me paint it for you.”

Spot’s heart skipped and he pursed his lips. “If you wanna.”

Jack pressed up against Spot’s side, leaving Spot to blush at the sudden touch.

“You uncomfortable?” Jack asked as he tucked the bird away in his pocket.

“Nah,” Spot shook his head, leaning into Jack. “Just didn’t know we were at this point is all.”

A smirk grew on Jack’s face and he shrugged, glancing all around them. “Heard you were following one of my newsies is all. Didn’t want you making assumptions about him.”

“Don’t got none besides gambler,” Spot responded. “He does his business and leaves. Kinda boring if you ask me.”

Jack laughed then, shaking his head. “Then you oughta spend time in Manhattan. Kid’s wet behind the ears to this pape business, but he’s smart. That’s what’s scary about him.”

“Scary,” Spot repeated, almost rolling his eyes. “Okay, Jack.”

“Calling me Jack now, huh?”

Spot ducked his head, kicking at a particularly interesting pebble on the ground. What he and Jack were was unspoken. They veered on the edge of dangerous, too much too quickly. He wasn’t in love, no, but he never did shy from sharing a kiss with Jack.

“I’ll take you someplace nice for dinner first,” Jack spoke low, close to Spot’s ear, and Spot jumped away.

To his relief, the races were over and he nodded to Jack before he sped after Race’s retreating figure. He didn’t want to think about what Jack had just said.

Oblivious as ever, Race whistled as he walked down the street and Spot grinned to himself. This was nice. No talking, no intruding thoughts, just Spot’s duty of watching Race.

He could get used to this.

~

Spot sat on the fire escape, his legs dangling off the edge as he overlooked the streets.

Up here, he felt like Twisty, surveying Brooklyn, keeping an eye on everything and everyone. It might be nice one day to be in that position and Spot hoped his efforts were being noticed.

Seeing a familiar figure trail down the streets, Spot perked up, his movements stilling as Race walked past the lodging house. He didn’t even glance up, but Spot didn’t mind, allowing him to watch Race as long as he could. Once Race was out of sight, Spot shot from the fire escape and down into the streets to follow after Race.

Today, Race stopped in an alley to light his cigar, taking a few puffs and blowing the smoke up into the air. From his view across the way, Spot wondered what it’d be like to talk to Race. He had heard his voice as he hawked away, passing compliments to strangers, but nothing serious passed Race’s lips.

Not his deepest thoughts, his concerns of the day.

Spot shrank into his hiding place and frowned. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to care about Race. All that mattered was his business. Why he chose to sell in Brooklyn rather than Manhattan.

By the time Spot shook himself from his thoughts, he almost lost Race, running down the streets to catch up. Again, Race disappeared into Sheepshead and Spot didn’t follow.

Pulling out a piece of wood, Spot shrank back to his usual seat and whittled away, hardly noticing the face his fingers were carving for him.

~

Jack was too close and Spot turned away, catching his breath.

“Spot, what’s wrong?” Jack asked, concerned as his hands held onto Spot’s waist.

“Nothing,” Spot lied, trying to find a place for his hands on Jack’s shoulders.

This wasn’t anything new to them, but all Spot could feel was irritation. Usually, he let himself fall into Jack’s embrace, the two of them savoring the physicality, but now, Spot didn’t want that.

“Okay.” Jack wasn’t convinced and he pulled himself away until he was at the opposite side of the alley. “Speak, Conlon.”

Spot glared at Jack, fists clenching at his sides. “I just don’t wanna do anything tonight.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t rush to argue. Instead, Jack turned his gaze to the entrance of the alley where the street still shined with the rain from earlier.

“Who is it?” Jack drove the nail into Spot’s heart.

Spot held his composure, breathing out as he met Jack’s wandering eyes. “No one. I just...I think what we got doesn’t work no more.”

Race was a well-guarded secret and Spot wasn’t going to spill his heart to Jack. Not yet. He wanted time for them to move on, for Jack to find someone that wasn’t him.

“All right,” Jack seemed at a loss for words, his voice cracking just a little. “That’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Spot tried to apologize, but he wondered if he was so sorry after all.

Seeing Jack’s forlorn face tore at his heart, yet Spot felt relieved. He didn’t want either of them dragging each other along, not when they weren’t even something established. Jack’s reply came in a singular nod before he headed into the street without a goodbye, Spot following to the end of the alley and watching Jack disappear into the night as he sighed.

This wasn’t how anything was supposed to go, Spot was drowning in his confusion. He didn’t even know Race and here he was, taking over any coherent thought Spot had left.

With a small huff, Spot marched back to his lodging house all while thinking of how to be rid of Race for good.

~

Race was smiling.

Spot was too far away to say just why he was, but it was nice. The grin lit up Race’s entire face and he seemed just excited as the other newsie with him as they chatted on.

It was easy enough. Spot could go up and join the conversation, but he remained where he was. After cutting off what he had with Jack, Spot didn’t want to jump into things. His heart still needed healing, surely.

He had felt something for Jack, but it wasn’t like what he felt with Race. Race was exciting, new, while Jack had been a comfortable routine. Spot knew Race could fall into the same category, but Spot didn’t want to think about that.

When Spot had fallen for Jack, there wasn’t a spark, just mere acceptance. Now, Spot found himself aching for Race’s attention, to have that smile exist because of him.

Holding onto himself, Spot tucked into the alley, taking a breath.

As nice as this was, he hated it just the same. He had pushed away a good thing for the uncertainty of Race. He and Jack could’ve been the fearless leaders of their boroughs, brothers in arms, if Spot ever made it to being a leader. Now, all that had been severed for a whim. Spot would be lucky if Jack ever spoke to him again.

Laughter rang clear in the air and Spot stuck his head out of the alley, watching as Race and Clover walked by, not even noticing Spot’s presence as they stayed in deep conversation.

It was all for the best.

Spot wasn’t ready to speak to Race. There was still too much that needed to be sorted out. It had to be perfect.

Staring after them, Spot’s heart grew heavy and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. Race was a faraway dream and Spot could feel him slipping away one day at a time.

~

Spot blinked, hoping Twisty would repeat his words.

“Spot,” Twisty waved his hands in front of Spot’s face. “Can you hear me?”

Shaking his head, Spot met Twisty’s gaze, finding his words. “Me?” he managed out with a small squeak.

“Yes, you,” Twisty ruffled Spot’s hair and Spot swatted his hand away. “You know Brooklyn best, all the kids respect you, it was meant to be.”

Spot wanted to question Twisty’s judgement, thinking of all the times he was chewed out for the littlest mistakes. Even his hardest work didn’t seem to gain any of Twisty’s favor, but Spot was beginning to think Twisty was hiding more than he wanted to admit.

“Well, I won’t let you down,” Spot puffed his chest out, standing tall.

“You better not or I’ll have to come down from the factory to soak you,” Twisty winked as he walked past Spot out of the room.

Letting out a breath, Spot took a moment to collect himself. He was Brooklyn’s leader now. The responsibility was daunting, but this had been his dream for so long. To be respected, his efforts recognized. Most of all, this was his chance.

He could finally work up the nerve to speak to Race. Spot was sure Race wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to speak to the new kid in charge. How perfect this all was, scenario after scenario swarming through Spot’s mind.

Smiling to himself, Spot thought out his plan, nodding to no one as he left the room. He was ready to meet Race and he hoped Race was ready too.

~

Race was a goddamn tease.

Spot was still frozen, watching Race leave and he was glad he had enough sense to say goodbye to him.

He let out his first breath when Race rounded the corner and he stubbed out his cigarette before shoving his face in his hands.

“What, Clover?” Spot muttered out when he heard nearby rustling.

“Just wanted to know if you wanted me to follow him or something,” they asked, barely caught above the noise of the ship workers.

Spot dragged his hands down his face and sighed. “Yeah. Follow him. Let me know what he does.”

With a nod, Clover bounded away and Spot shook his head climbing up onto his perch on the docks. His newsies would be filing in soon, reports of the day, taking a break from their selling. He supposed news of his position traveled fast and Race wasn’t going to be the only foreign newsie he’d see today.

Race was the only one that mattered however.

With his crooked grin, his shining eyes, Spot could feel his heartstrings being pulled at and he traced his finger along a crate, not realizing until halfway through that he was spelling out Race’s name.

A blush rose to his cheeks and Spot wanted to laugh at himself. He wasn’t supposed to get tangled up in a mess like this, yet here he was, thinking about Race and their first official meeting. At least he wasn’t following him like usual. Not that Spot would have much time for that anymore.

Needless to say, Spot was curious what Race would do, if he would feel the same way as Spot some day. Even if he didn’t, Spot was content enough with friendship. However, Race had accepted his cigarette and in an odd way, Spot might consider that their first kiss.

Groaning, Spot leaned back until he almost fell off his crate and he rushed back forward, a small laugh leaving him.

Whatever was to happen between him and Race, Spot could only hope for the best and in all honesty, he couldn’t wait to see what awaited them.

[unbreakablejemmasimmons]

Dear Yuletide Writer,

Thanks for signing up for this superfun exchange! This is the fourth year I’ve participated now, and I’ve always enjoyed it-- I hope you do, too.

Below you’ll find the following:

General Likes/Kinks

General DNWs

Fandom Specifics/Prompts

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - Rebecca Bunch, Greg Serrano

Schitt’s Creek - Stevie Budd, David Rose

The Good Place - Eleanor Shellstrop, Trevor the Demon

Newsies - Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Jack Kelly

I’ve tried to list some varied prompts for each fandom, but please don’t feel like you have to stick to what I’ve come up with! If the rest of my letter gives you another idea you’d like to write, I’d love to read it!

A little about me to start:

My AO3 name is SuburbanSun; you can also check out my Tumblr if you’d like, and my tags for each of my requested fandoms (that I’ve posted about before-- apparently that excludes Schitt’s Creek!) here: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, The Good Place, Newsies.

General Likes/Kinks:

I’m a big trope fan in general– faves include rivals/enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, bed-sharing, trapped in an enclosed space, mutual pining, secret dating/sneaking around, slow burn, FWBs that turns into something more. Subversions of tropes are also great, so don’t feel like you have to go the obvious route if you choose to write something tropey!

I have a weird (not weird because it’s uncommon, more weird because it doesn’t fit in obviously with the rest of my likes and favored tropes) love for Secret Service/bodyguard/witness protection AUs and private eye AUs.

Epistolary fic, either as part of a story or as all of it, is always fun to me, if it’s up your alley. 

I love strong female friendships, strong-but-flawed-and-realistic female characters in general. Ladies kicking ass, preferably through cleverness and wit and competence as much if not more than through brawn, is the best, and I love it when they’re allowed to make mistakes and fuck up and dig themselves into a hole, too. That said, I will literally never turn down a Vampire Slayer AU. They’re among my faves. (I loved the one I got for Crazy Ex-Girlfriend last Yuletide, but am always excited to see more of them for other fandoms!)

Smut is cool and fun and here are some kinks that I like to read: Teasing. Phone sex/sexting. Semi-public sex (not actually getting caught though). Workplace sex. Dirty talk. Light domination (aka more like just bossing each other around rather than actual D/s stuff). Oral sex. Playfulness/joking around during sex.

General DNWs:

Darkfic. Sad endings. Gore/intense violence. Miscommunication that could super easily be avoided. Babyfic/kidfic/pregnancy in general. Self-harm/abuse. Noncon/dubcon. A/B/O, mpreg, incest, bestiality, hard kink. Poly/threesomes/orgies. Members of my ships being paired romantically with other people (unless it’s just briefly, on the way to an OTP-happy ending). First person POV.

Fandom Specifics/Prompts:

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Rebecca Bunch, Greg Serrano

I love this show so much. It’s clever, it’s feminist, it’s funny, it’s real (even as it features elaborate musical sequences!), and the characters are so flawed but so great. I got a couple of great giftfics for this fandom last Yuletide that I loved, but I’m always excited to read more.

I ship Rebecca and Greg so hard, in spite of their many flaws, and am bummed that Greg’s gone, and hope they find a way to bring him back someday. I just love their chemistry– bickery battle-of-wits style relationships are a huge favorite of mine. I also really just love Rebecca as a character. She’s such a mess and makes so many mistakes but I find her really relatable.

I’m very interested to see where the show goes this season with Rebecca’s revenge plot and seeming descent into (back into?) madness, but I don’t know that Greg easily fits into that trajectory for now, so don’t feel like you need to write something that takes place in current canon. I’d be happy with a story set while Greg was still in West Covina, or a future fic, or just a total AU.

Prompts:

Rebecca/Greg + any number of tropes– stuck somewhere together; inconvenient bed-sharing; fake dating, the works.

Rebecca’s blindness toward money is intriguing to me, in a “when is this shit going to REALLY hit the fan” kind of way. What if that had come to a head somehow and she had to get a second job at Home Base? How would she and Greg have taken to working together into the wee hours of the night? (Store-room sex could be a good addition here if you’d like!)

What’s their dynamic like in a couple of years when Greg returns from Atlanta? Are they over each other or not quite so much?

Conversely, what if a couple years go by, and Rebecca feels compelled to leave West Covina? Maybe she moves back to NYC (hopefully after a few hundred hours of therapy with Dr. Akopian to give her the coping mechanisms she needs to be happy there). Maybe Greg moves to NYC for a job after graduating Emory. Have they kept in touch enough to know they’re both in the same city again, or do they run into each other randomly, an echo of her NYC run-in with Josh in the pilot, only better, because she’s older and wiser and hopefully better-adjusted?

Schitt’s Creek Stevie Budd, David Rose

This show is so funny, dry and ridiculous at the same time. I love how absurdly out of touch the Roses are, and how the show balances their outrageousness with the humdrum middle-America of the town of Schitt’s Creek.

I can’t help but ship Stevie and David, and I hope the show leans into that. If you aren’t into them romantically, though, that’s okay-- they are also fab as begrudging BFFs. I love how they challenge each other and one-up each other, always smirkingly pushing each other’s buttons.

*Note: Season 3 was only just added to Netflix US this week, so when I wrote this letter I hadn’t seen it yet. I just marathoned it (loved it obvs) and it’s pretty clear that they’re not going go lean into Stevie/David, and that’s ok! I’m really digging the Patrick thing so far too. For the purpose of Yuletide, feel free to write something that takes place earlier in the series, or goes AU, etc. 

Prompts:

David finds out Stevie’s birthday is coming up, and decides (or perhaps is convinced by Alexis) to throw her a party, as posh as the parties of his old life with the limited resources of Schitt’s Creek. Of course, everything goes wrong.

I love Stevie teaching David how to adult. What other normal things has he never experienced before that she needs to walk him through?

Schitt’s Creek throws a fall festival, complete with a parade. Stevie gets chosen to be Sweet Potato Pie Queen or something equally ridiculous, and David will never. Stop. Teasing. Her. Until the Sweet Potato Pie King (or similar) comes down with shingles and Roland insists David step in.

Somehow (perhaps through a series of dares?), Stevie winds up running for local government. 

The Good Place Eleanor Shellstrop, Trevor the Demon

There’s not much on Earth I love more than a Mike Schur show, and I’ve always loved Kristen Bell, so I was pretty destined to dig this show. It’s just so clever and interesting and fun to watch!

That said, I wasn’t really shipping anything on the show yet. I like all the characters but nothing leapt out for me romantically. But then they introduced Trevor, and the thing is, Adam Scott is my weakness. If he exists on a show, I can’t help but ship him with somebody, and I have loved his and KBell’s chemistry together in other shows (Party Down! VMars!). I’m not proud of it, but my mind immediately went there.

But things are a little more complicated now! Is Trevor just a Bad Place demon who was acting like the head of the Bad Place, or does he actually hold some kind of leadership role? Is “Trevor” even his real name?? There are so many possibilities! I’m cool with fic that assumes any of them are true.

Prompts:

Trevor has a bad day at the "office," because he's really just a Bad Place underling who enjoyed the chance to play a big-shot evil-doer in Michael’s first attempt. He somehow runs into Eleanor get sloppy drunk together.

Eleanor and Trevor have to team up for some reason-- so he can get ahead in Bad Place bureaucracy, and so she can try to defeat Michael, for instance. How does that work out?

Any sort of stuck together/trapped in an enclosed space tropefic would be great– especially if they start to have feelings for each other.

Nothing wrong with a little good oldfashioned hatesex.

Newsies Jack Kelly, Katherine Plumber Pulitzer

A friend of mine invited me to go see Newsies when they did the first Fathom Events screening early this year, and I had nearly no familiarity with it-- hadn’t even seen the movie. So naturally, I loved it and immediately fell down the Newsies rabbit hole.

I love Jack and Katherine individually and together. I love how cocky he is, and the vulnerability that cockiness masks. I love how headstrong she is, and ambitious. I would love to see fic for them that takes place after the events of the show-- what happens next? How do they begin to have a real relationship, as different as they are, now that the strike is over? Does Jack take that cartoonist job? Does he keep selling papes, too? Where do they live? What do they do on dates?

Prompts:

Even out from under her father’s thumb, Katherine’s lifestyle is certainly a bit ritzier than what Jack’s used to. How does it go the first time she has him over to her apartment?

Jack likes to leave little notes around for Katherine to find, sketches, doodles, and the like. I’m not opposed to epistolary fic here or elsewhere.

Katherine has to plot with the other newsies behind Jack’s back, for some reason (surprise party? Surprise gift?).

So, that’s that! I really hope you enjoy the whole process this Yuletide season, and thanks for participating! Happy writing!