#livesies oneshot

[kellyscowboy]

Hiii!! You’re my favorite ikeshot person! You write their personalities and dynamic so well!!

could you write something based on the song the 30th by Billie Eilish? the story behind the song is someone gets into a really bad car wreck(or accident of some sort) and the aftermath of it

hii!! i meant to answer this sooo long ago but i got caught up w/ school & have also been in a sims 4 grind LMFAO. thank you so much for this request!! i apologize if this is a little off from what you may have expected or what i have written in the past. it's been a hot minute since i've written this dynamic so pls bare w/ me :'). again, thank you so much for this request! i appreciate you & your support <33333

i wasn't sure if you wanted this to be modern!au or in the canon au, but i made it canon. so it doesnt EXACTLY follow the lyrics. but essentially follows the point of the song!! ALSO!! @sparkedblaze this is also for you because you are the reason i write for ikeshot <3

CW: blood mentioned, car accident mentioned, uhhh probably cussing i lowkey don't remember tbh, UHH sad gays idk i forgot how to do this

Hotshot couldn't help but stare. It made him sick to do so, but he couldn't stop. It was like watching a gruesome fight that you couldn't tear your eyes away from. Except it was Ike. His Ike. All bruised, cut, and bloodied; scrawled out pathetically on a hospital bed. He was all but disfigured. All but unrecognizable.

But often times he had this look about him, and Hotshot couldn't help but think he looked the exact same as he did before the accident. He would just look off into the distance, similar to how he used to look at the stars before everything. Occasionally he would squirm under his boyfriend's intense stare. But outside of that, he said and did nothing. He wouldn't move an inch until a nurse came to make him eat, or until Hotshot would force him to use the bathroom.

"We don't need ya kidneys to fail, now. You'se already been through enough."

It made Hotshot nauseous to take care of the boy. They had never been in this position before. Usually, it was Hotshot laid up with a broken bone or some odd illness nobody else got. And Ike was always right at his side. It didn't feel right when the roles were reversed. Not to either of them.

Ike was knocked out for a long time. The doctors and nurses started to doubt he would ever wake up. They had begun to prep Hotshot for the worst, not that he ever listened to them. All he did was sit, stare, and pray to whatever god was listening that his boy would wake up.

When he did finally wake up, the hospital was in a frenzy. There was a hushed, excited buzz about the air. All the nurses would linger by the doorway of his room and gossip about his 'miraculous awakening.'

The second his eyes opened, he was bombarded with numerous questions from the doctors. They were long, confusing questions that contained words that Hotshot could hardly believe were real. Ike was quickly overwhelmed. Tears teetered on the brink of his eyes and his breathing became rapid.

"Would ya stop pesterin' him for a second? He just woke up! What's wrong with the lotta ya? Huh? Ain't you supposed to be professionals? Let the boy breathe!" Hotshot yelled as he jumped to his feet. "He ain't just some medical miracle, alright? He's a person just like you 'n me. Give 'im a second."

One by one, the doctors and nurses began to shuffle out of the room. Each one glancing over their shoulders as they left. Hotshot could hear their gossiping whispers outside the door as he sat down closer to Ike.

"What's happenin'?" Ike asked. His voice was small, hoarse, and confused.

Hotshot furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed his lover's hand. "What'dya mean? Dont'cha remember? You was hit by one of them fancy new electric carriages."

Ike's initial confusion turned into a quick look of horror as he caught a glimpse of his bruised arms. "But... I'm alive right? I'm here? This is real?" The boy had started to freak out. He analyzed his arms, turning them every which way. He leaned forward, wincing as he did, and yanked the cover off his legs. It wasn't a pretty sight, and Hotshot had to stop himself from dry heaving just from seeing his boyfriend in such a state.

Gently, Hotshot pulled the blankets back over the boys legs. "You'se alright, Ike. For a couple of days there, I was worried. You'se was knocked out cold. But ya alive now. That's all that matters. You're alive." He wanted to do something. Squeez the boys hand, give him a pat on the leg... something. But he couldn't in fear of hurting the boy further. So, he just nodded and flashed him a forced, tight smile. "I think ya oughta lay down. You get yourself too worked up sometimes. It'll get worse if ya don't relax a little."

The other boy couldn't help but let out a laugh. He grabbed his chest in pain after he did. "Sounds like somethin' I'd usually tell you."

"Right." Hotshot rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, I reckon them so-called professionals out there are gonna wanna ask ya some questions. I'll make sure they go easy on ya, yeah?"

Ike nodded and closed his eyes as the other boy got up to let the doctors back in. He took a deep breath, once again wincing in pain, and prepared himself for the horror that would be the next few minutes.

Hotshot often felt ashamed when looking back on the day of the accident. None of it was his fault. He was often reminded by the Brooklyn boys that there was no way he could've known. But he felt as though he should've. That he should have seen the conjugation of people and he should've known. He should've listened to his gut telling him it was someone he knew. Someone important. Should've ran up and helped. But he didn't.

"It was a Tuesday, Hotshot." Spot had told him in the hospital. "Ya never could'a known. He ain't never come over to visit on a Tuesday. 'Specially not so early. Quit beatin' yerself up about it."

Even Mike had come and talked to him. Usually, they just sat there together in complete silence. But even Mike knew it wasn't his fault. "Listen, I know we ain't close but I gotta talk to ya about this. Spot told me what happened. That you'd seen the accident but didn't think nothing of it and..." He paused. Hotshot prepared himself to get screamed at. Berated for being an absolute idiot and not helping the others brother. But the ambush never came.

"It ain't ya fault," Hotshot continued. "Honest. Ya know I'd scream and kill ya if it was. Ain't no way you coulda took one look at the scene and knew it was him. Hell, I'm his twin brother and I didn't even get the sense that something was wrong 'till Scram came runnin' to tell the news." He sighed again and took another pause. "Even if ya had known. Even if ya had gone and tried to help, what could you have done? Huh? Ya ain't a professional. Situation woulda been the same any way about it."

Hotshot nodded. He understood them. He understood everyone who had come to talk to him. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't stop beating himself up about it.

He relived the day in his head almost every single night. It was a normal Tuesday. Up as early as the birds, carrying the banner and collecting pity from people wandering the streets. He had seen the commotion early in the day. In fact, it had been right after he had bought his papers for the day.

It's far too early for this, he recalled thinking. There was always something going on in New York. Especially in Brooklyn and especially around the circulation buildings. Typically, it was a rough fist fight between two newsies, and at its worst it was a robbery of some sort. But neither of which would cause such a big commotion nor gathering of police and medical personnel.

Hotshot knew deep down something was wrong. He felt drawn to the accident, but he put it aside as his love for fights. Which is what he assumed it was. A big fight that got out of hand. Maybe one that had contanied multiple newsies instead of just two, or that had somehow gotten an adult of importance involved.

But he ignored the calling to the scene. He had a stack of papers on his bicep and they weren't going to sell themselves. Besides, the quicker he was done with work the quicker he could join Ike at Jacobi's. He hadn't even really thought of stopping to see what had happened. Just that it might be something interest, but not something he could be bothered to stop for.

Just thirty minute later, he heard Scram's pattering feet behind him. He turned quickly on his heel, looking down at the boy. He had a horrified look on his face and his cheeks were stained with tears. The boy began to speak, sputtering and rambling over himself. "It's- Ike- Well, he- It was a car- And-"

Hotshot's blood ran cold at the mention of Ike's name. The papers on his arm hit the ground with a thump and sent dust flying into the air around them. "Ike? What about Ike?" Scram began to cry again, flailing his arms and pointing behind him. Hotshot's heart sank. "Scram, spit it out! I need to know what happened!"

"There was an- an accident! He got hurt, real bad. Barely looks alive. He keeps askin' for ya! Ya gotta go! Quick! They're loadin' him into the ambulance!"

"Where, Scram? Where?"

Scram's face was red and covered in snot. "Right outside the circulation building!"

Hotshot's heart sank even farther, something he hadn't believed to be possible. "Listen to me, Scram. Listen good. You go run and you don't stop running 'till you find Mike, alright? You tell him everything. You tell Manhattan everything. Okay?" He didn't even wait for the boys response.

He abandoned his dropped papes as he sprinted as fast as he could back to the circulation building. As he arrived at the scene, he couldn't help but be angry. He pushed his way through the crowd, screaming obscenities and demanding they let him into the ambulance. Police tried to hold him back when he finally made it to the front.

"He's been asking for me! They told me he's been asking for me! I'm Hotshot! Ya gotta let me in!" Hotshot screamed. "His family's all the way in 'Hattan! Ya can't let him go alone! He'll be scared!" Before he could stop himself, he screamed: "Ya can't let 'im die alone!"

Upon hearing the last bit—and discussing the boys name, which the injured boy had been groggily repeating over and over again—the officers let the boy through. Hotshot climbed into the back of ambulance and gripped onto the other boys hand.

"Ya think I'm gonna die?" Ike sputtered out, blood covering his mouth. "I- Mike's gonna be so mad. He ain't gonna have no-one."

Hotshot realized what he had yelled previously and began to panic. "Nah, nah. Ya ain't gonna die, Ike. You'se too strong to, okay? I just said that so they'd let me through. That's all. You'se gonna be just fine."

"I'm scared, Hotshot. I'm really scared."

"Hey, don't say that. You'se gonna be alright. Don't be scared. I ain't! I know you'se gonna be just fine. Okay." But the truth was, Hotshot was horrified. He hadn't been so scared in his entire life. He dropped his voice to a whisper as he continued to speak. "Ya still look so pretty, ya know that? Gorgeous, Ike. Ya gorgeous."

After hearing Hotshot's whispers, the boy took a deep, choked breath and closed his eyes.

After Ike finally woke up, he often thought aloud about what would've happened among different circumstance. Hotshot hated hearing it. He hated thinking about how, if the situation had only been slightly different, Ike could've died.

"What if it had been on Thursday? Someone else coulda been drivin' it. Goin' faster, not have slowed down or stopped. Coulda taken me straight into the next life."

"Would ya stop that?" Hotshot muttered. His face was deep in his hands.

Ike paused for a couple of minutes before speaking up once again. "I coulda been on ya bridge. They coulda sent me straight over into the water. I don't even know how to swim now. Imagine it with broken bones..."

"Ike."

"I coulda been in that neighborhood where all them families lived. Some little kid coulda found me and not told anyone cause they'd be scared they'd get in trouble or something."

"Ike."

"If it had been winter and it was snowing or rainin'. And the car had skidded, lost control. Hit me full speed."

Hotshot had started to tear up and his composure was breaking. "Ike, please." He begged in a broken voice.

But Ike couldn't help himself. He was spiraling. "Or if I was on one of them backroad nobody goes on. Nobody woulda even seen it happen. If just a small little thing was different, I'd probably be-"

"Ike!" Hotshot finally yelled. "Stop. You need to stop. I can't keep doin' it. Can't keep listenin' to ya kill yaself in your daydreams. You're alive, okay? You're alive. So just shut up! Because there's no life, no reality where I'm letting ya die. Alright? Especially not at the hands of some rich idiot's fancy car. So just... stop."

Ike nodded, his voice small. "Sorry. I just... I'm just freaking out. I dunno if I'm meant to be alive right now."

Hotshot sighed. "Listen. You'se the great person alive." He sat down and gently took ahold of his boyfriends hand. "If anyone in this world's meant to be alive, it's you. Alright?" He kissed Ike's hand and wiped at his eye with his own hand. "You're alive, Ike. Don't think about anything else. We got a buncha years ahead of us. Don't worry 'bout nothin' else."

[knockoff-conlon]

idea for today!! albert with a daughter, result of teen pregnancy. either al is trans and had a daughter or he got someone pregnant. at any rate, at fifteen he has a baby and he's a mess. a lot of times, the other boys and girls + medda or denton are helping him with his daughter.

by the time he's 28, she's thirteen and they're actually super close. he loves his daughter (let's call her allie!!) and she tells him everything about her life. allie is learning how to play guitar and she talks nonstop about her guitar teacher. she has a recital one day and albert is so distracted by her teacher- FINCH

its okay tho cause the rest of her uncles and aunts are cheering her on. allie introduces finch to her whole family afterward and finch is super distracted by albert.

etc. etc. theyre gay.

[thisisthegarage]

Would people read my fics if I actually got on my grind and wrote them? I have so many ideas.

[dcbutinamrev]

How the Jacobs family finds out Jack and Davey are dating 1899 edition:

Davey: Daddy, can you pass me the salt?

Mayer and Jack: *both reaches for the salt container*

The Jacobs siblings: 😐

Esther and Mayer: 👁️👄👁️

Mayor: *slowly gets angry (in a protective way)*

Jack: well…uh…it was uh…nice having breakfast with y’all but I’s betta get down to the lodge..mornin’ bell

Also Jack: *kisses Davey’s lips without hesitation before running out the Jacob’s apartment’s front door*

All of Jacobs family: *turns to Davey*

Davey: …I can explain

[fluffyzoey]

Livesies Jack being so pissed that Davey is taller than him. “I don’t want to have to get on my tiptoes to kiss you!”

“You aren’t even that much shorter!”

“But what if you grow???”

“Jackie, I’m like an INCH taller than you! Are you really that bitter?”

[frogmanfae]

Race: you like Davey

Jack: yeah of course he's a great guy

Race: no

Race: you LIKE Davey

Race: like you're full on in love with the guy

Jack: what? No! I was in love with Katherine like a year ago

Race: so?

Jack: SO I can't like dudes, I like girls

Race: you're obviously bisexual

Jack: what?

Race: bisexual. You like both?

Jack: holy shit I can do that?? Thats an option???

Race: duh? You didn't know that was possible??

Jack: no????

Race: where the hell have you been your whole life??

Jack: uh, the closet apparently.

[getyourpaybackwithsomepayback]

I have no self control.

no TWs

~727 words

Sorry if the quality isnt amazing it’s 5:42 where I am and I pulled an all nighter, I’ll probably check this again once I go to bed and wake up.

“Jack, are you sure this is a good idea? This spot Conlon guy seems like bad news- Jack? Jackie?” Davey turned around, but Jack was nowhere to be found. They’d been on their way to Brooklyn, to ask Spot Conlon for his support in the strike.

Across the bridge, he heard another voice. “Davey, where the hell’d you go? Boots- boots, go find that walking mouth. We’se gonna need him if we got a shot with Conlon.” the voice wasn’t jacks: at least not the one Davey knew, he was sure of it. But, it was his name being called, so he figured he may as well check out the scene.

When he arrived, he saw a tall man, taller than his Jack, at least, with gelled hair. Or, maybe it was oil. Or grease. He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t want to find out.

“‘S’cuse me sir, you seen a David Jacobs? Bout your height, curly hair, real prim and proper, y’know the type?” The man pulled him over to the side of the bridge, out of the way of foot traffic.

“Well, I- See, my names David Jacobs, sir, but i don’t think I’m the one you’re looking for.” David said politely. “Have you seen a boy a bit shorter than you, sturdy built, dark hair, named Jack Kelly?”

“Well, hell, that’s me!” The man scoffed “Not that I’m surprised you know my name. Being the best newsie-“

“Hey, hey. Listen, my Jack’s the best newsie there is around. Got that?” Davey didn’t know why he said that, he didn’t want to pick a fight, he just felt some inexplicable urge to defend Jack in front of this… this impostor.

“Aw, ain’t that sweet? You got that same, never shut, mouth my David’s got.” Jack grinned lopsidedly.

“Jeez” David thought “Who is this guy? Why’s he so… suspicious?”

“Well, thats… uh, that’s interesting.” Davey backed away awkwardly. “See, if you could perhaps tell me where to find a Spot Conlon, I’ll be on my way. I’m sure my Jack just went a bit too fast.” He said politely, an aire of hesitance surrounding his words.

“Of course, I was just on my way to see him now. Real good friends, him and I are.” Jack nodded, the hesitance Davey held absent from his voice.

“That so?” Davey asked, just for the sake of small talk as Jack led them further into the grounds of Brooklyn.

“Mhm. Y’know, my buddy, Boots, he spent a month here one night.” Jack added

“But, how… that… okay.” Davey sighed. His own Jack wasn’t the best at math, and he’d given up trying to correct it. It seemed this Jack was equally incompetent with numbers.

“So, what do you need to see Spotty for?” Jack chatted

“Well, me and my Jack are part of the newsies-“

“Hey, me too! Wonder why I ain’t never seen you and your jack around, huh?”

“Uh, yeah.” David said awkwardly “So, we started a strike, well, we’re trying to, cause the price got hiked.”

“Same here, ain’t that odd?” Jack laughed

Davey was starting to suspect that this Jack was lying: maybe he was just copying everything Davey said, trying to rob him, or playing the long game to jump him.

“Yeah. Odd. Well, I see my jack-“ Davey spotted sweet relief, his Jack looking around like one of the three blind mice trying to find Davey.

“Hey boots!” Jack yelled “sorry, other Dave, I gotta go. I think my buddy found my Davey.” He ran off, and Davey wasn’t able to keep track of him in the moving crowd for long.

He quickly ran up to Jack, and once Jack saw him, they, at the same time, said, “You wouldn’t believe this fella I met,”

In a different universe, at the same time, Francis Sullivan and David Jacobs said, “You wouldn’t believe this fella I met,”

Neither David’s let the incident nag their minds for long, their thoughts preoccupied without room for, as they saw it, silly conspiracies. The incident would linger in the two Jack’s, or, more accurately, the one Jack and one Francis, minds, a soft nagging that something had been off that day they went to visit the infamous Spot Conlon. Eventually, both pegged it off to nerves, fading into the idea it had really been a mere naming coincidence.

—end scene—

This is hereby a petition for someone with more motivation than me to write a oneshot of 92sies Jack and Livesies Davey meeting each other

[buttonsfleas]

Guys send me asks to make oneshots or character AI bots! (I would mainly like Chucky and the Banana Splits movie and livesies and Hamilton)

[starlitink]

About Me

Aster | They/them | Queer

DNI LIST!

Homophobes

Transphobes/TERFS/JK Rowling

Racists and white supremacists

Sexists/misogynists

Autism Speaks and their supporters (#lightitupred people!)

Xenophobes

Nazis

Pedophiles

Bipjobes, acephobes, arophobes, panphobes, literally just any kind of -phobe

You're not scared of people, you're just an asshole

Trump supporters

Ableists

Please note this blog has a big TW for cursing (but other than that, I try to keep everything family-friendly).

This is primarily a blog about Broadway musicals, although I will reblog random shit from time to time.

So far, I’ve listened to:

Newsies (both 92sies and Livesies)

Mean Girls

Heathers

Wicked (I saw this one live on Broadway right before COVID)

The Lightning Thief

Beetlejuice

Six

Hamilton

Tuck Everlasting

Legally Blonde

Beauty And The Beast

The Little Mermaid

Dear Evan Hansen

Aladdin

Mamma Mia!

The Prom

Hadestown

West Side Story

Anastasia

Into The Woods

Addams Family

Matilda

The Sound of Music

The Wiz

Frozen

Les Miserables

The Phantom Of The Opera

Hairspray

This is where I post headcanons, incorrect quotes, and writing (primarily about Newsies, as that is my favorite (as you can probably tell from my blog’s aesthetic))

A guide to navigating my blog is under the cut!

How to find things on my blog:

The ‘ask aster‘ tag is where I have ask games and answer questions!

Anything tagged ‘dogsies‘ is related to the Dogsies AU that my sisters and I came up with. In this AU, the newsies are dogs in an animal shelter run by Kloppman.

Anything tagged ‘invisible string‘ is related to the Invisible String AU (alternate name, Hell Was The Journey But It Brought Me Heaven). This AU is based on Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. In this AU, Jack and Davey are an angel and a demon trying to stop the apocalypse.

The ‘we’ll stay young forever‘ tag is another AU of my own creation. It’s a Newsies x Tuck Everlasting crossover AU where Jesse Tuck (AKA Crutchie) is forced to give Jack water from the magic spring in order to keep him alive, and chaos ensues.

Search for a specific ship like Javid or Sprace to find everything I’ve posted about that ship.

Contrary to popular belief, I do post about stuff other than Newsies. Search a specific musical to find everything I’ve posted about that musical!

The ‘aster writes‘ tag is where I post my writing! Oneshots and short stories go here!

"crystallizedtwilight" is for posts reblogged from @crystallizedtwilight, one of my absolute FAVORITE artists here on Tumblr. (She does a lot of Sprace art, so if you're looking for that, check this tag!)

I have low-key giving up on tagging things cuz I'm apathetic and the only reason this blog is still up and running is because of the queue function so uhhhhhhh good luck finding shit now lol

[kellyscowboy]

for enemies to stranger to lover prompts "Just kiss me already, you idiot." for ikeshot please and thanks

this is almost a year old... erm oops! no fr i'm sorry but trust i'm locking in. also can't find the prompt list so if anyone can find it, please link it to me!! thanks <333

Ike and Hotshot didn't really get along at first. The boys actually, really, hated each other. Ike thought Hotshot was quite uptight. "The guy has a stick up his ass, Mike!" And the Brooklyn boy thought the Manhattan boy was 'too much of a baby.'

They didn't see each other very often, so nothing ever really came of the hatred. Until the strike. Then they were together all the time. Brooklyn boys were constantly in the lodging house, much to Ike's dismay. All the planning and politics had to go down somewhere, right?

Ike knew that, but he didn't understand why it had to be there. Couldn't it just be somewhere neutral? Like Jacobi's or Medda's place, or really anywhere that Ike didn't sleep.

"Is that a stuffed toy?" Hotshot asked, sounding thoroughly shocked.

Ike flushed red. He shoved the doll under a sheet. "My ma made it."

"Ain't you too old to have stuffed toys?"

The Manhattan boy wasn't easily angered. Usually he was the most patient newsboy in his borough. But this was really a sore subject, is what Ike told himself, and the other boy should've known better. "Ain't ya old enough to mind your business? Or did your mama not care about you enough? Huh? Is that why ya can't understand why I would keep something from her? She didn't love you enough?"

"Ike..." Mike said, horrified. He had never heard his brother be mean. And Ike almost felt bad... until there was a fist in his nose and blood dripping onto his shirt.

Then the two boys were rolling on the ground, punches being thrown left and right. Distantly, Ike could hear Mike yelling at him. He could feel his twin grabbing at his shoulder. But he just shoved the boy back and continued to throw his arms around wildly.

It wasn't a fair fight, not by a mile. Hotshot was a fighter. The brawns of the Brooklyn operation. Each launch of his arm was strategic and strong. He knew where he was punching and why he was punching. Ike was the loveable goofy of Manhattan who hadn't so much as had a black eye before. He didn't know what he was doing. His arms mostly just flailed around and he prayed it might make contact once or twice.

"What the hell is going on?" Jack yelled. And though Ike was small, and not typically considered strong, it took himself, Racetrack, and Albert to rip him away from Hotshot. Who was being pulled away by Spot and one of the bigger Brooklyn guys.

Ike shook the boys off angrily and wiped at his bloody nose. "This guy's a dick, that's what's going on!"

"Oh, please." Hotshot laughed dryly. "Don't hide the baby act now!"

The Manhattan boys had to hold Ike back from lunging at the other boy again. Jack shoved Ike away and groaned, rubbing his face as the Brooklyn and Manhattan boys shouted at each other. "Okay. OKAY!" The room went silent. "Here's what we's gonna do, okay? You two are gonna sit in a room and you're gonna figure it out. We ain't got no strike if we don't all get along. So you guys are gonna fix it, or I will. And you ain't gonna like the way I'll fix it."

That's when it all started to change. The two of them were locked in a room together with Mike outside the door, who was told to drag the two of them out by their ears if they started to fight. So they sat in silence, sniffling up the blood from their (probably) broken noses. Hotshot pushed at his bruises while Ike shoved his abandoned shirt up his nose.

"Didn't think ya'd be any good." Hotshot mumbled. "Thought it'd be an easy fight. One punch and done."

Ike chuckled. "I don't think I actually landed anything on ya."

"If that was true, I wouldn't have had to pop my nose back into place."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you look just as good as before." Then Ike froze, and chose to just pretend he didn't say it. A sort of uneasy silence fell between them as Hotshot took in the words and Ike decided which way he was going to kill himself.

Hotshot wasn't used to blind hatred feeling like this. Usually, when he hated someone, he didn't want to be around them. Didn't want to antagonize them or anything, just wanted to avoid them at every cost. But it was different with Ike. All he wanted to do was be around the boy. And although he had previously thought it was to make fun of the boy, or even to get into a fight with him. But he had begun to rethink the whole thing they had going on.

Maybe the reason it felt different was because he didn't really hate the boy. Maybe the softness intrigued him. Most newsboys weren't sweet and never retained their innocence. And he had to admit that the other boy wasn't unattractive.

"You don't look too bad yourself, guy."

The two began to drift closer together, both of them sort of trying to scoot in without the other noticing. Ike turned to look at the boy, followed the trail of his bloody nose down to his lips and the looked back up to his eyes. "You jus' gonna look?"

"What?" Ike choked out weekly.

Hotshot scoffed. "Just kiss me already, you idiot."

Ike threw all caution to the wind and began to lean in, where he was met halfway by Hotshot. The two of them desperately held onto each other. There was no stopping in sight until someone shoved the door open and they jumped away from each other.

"This is NOT what I meant by 'figure it out.'" Jack said, exasperated. Spot was peeking over the boys shoulder, an eyebrow raised. Racetrack and Albert were wooting and winking, while Mike just looked thoroughly horrified and tried to cover his eyes.

[fireylesbianhell]

thinking about david having his first real laugh attack, wheezing on the floor when up much later than he usually lets himself be usually in a little huddle of his friends in the boarding house. thinking about david Jacobs snickering when walking down the road at an inside joke again with one of the newsies while selling, that only they know about and find absolutely hilariously funny. thinking really hard about david getting nervous about coming out to the boys with him and jack and they’re just like ok. we knew. (finding out about the betting pool placed on when they would just shut up and finally fucking kiss-) thinking abt davey finding himself and his personality and happy days and queer identity with his people he found and thinking these idiots are some of the best people i’ll ever meet and him just being a happy guy.

well, I've been thinking about David Jacobs, and now its everyone else's problem.

Dave was never really considered someone's real, honest to god good/best friend since elementary school, until the newsies.

Most people just seemed to veiw him as some loner kid, or 'too smart for the other' or, for some reason, just an asshole if they cared enough to notice the subtle expressions from his day to day that masked his distain now and then. Though, they always misinterpreted that disdain either for the schoolwork he was oh so good at or as disdain for the people around him, that was untrue.

it was his disdain for himself and how boxed he kept himself, but he would not admit that to a soul

but, then he joined the newsies and that changed a little while after his little brother got himself roped up with the annoyingly heroic handsome charismatic Jack Kelly, and they talked to each other. during and after the strike. he usually only talked to Jack, and, that was okay, he was closest with Jack and he never expected that relationship to extend to anything other than polite interactions with Crutchie and Katherine.

but. that wasn't right-

Suddenly David Jacobs walked to school with a smile on his face thinking about that stupid thing mush did last night and the way Race slapped him on the back when doubling over from laughter.

Or telling Sarah about Henry and Smalls very passionate argument about rats and mice, that they looked to him for some specific facts, and helped to be Henry's saving grace for the Anti-Rats argument

Or just sitting there with Jack in a pile of the boys, the boys he'd go to hell and back for again and again and he realized what he found were real friends that he could just, be Davey with. Not uptight goody to-shoes David or resting-bitch-face David, just Davey Jacobs, one of the newsies.

[to-be-a-dreamer]

I was working on a fic and decided that Jack constantly complains about Race being a snarky pain in the everywhere but... I mean... Race didn't learn it from no one...

Completely unrelated note: here's a little dialogue excerpt between a fourteen-year-old Jack Kelly and a seventeen-year-old OC named Sling. The context is that Jack brought home a couple of strays. Again.

“Kelly-”

“Okay, I can explain.”

“I give you one job-”

“And I did it!”

“I toldja to take Jojo sellin’ with ya-”

“Well wouldja look at that? There’s Jojo over there, looking fine and dandy!”

“I toldja to make sure he didn't die-”

“Yeah, and I made sure three kids didn’t die, so I actually did my job ten times over.”

“I know I ain’t never been to school before, but I’m pretty sure that ain’t how math works.”

“Oh well, guess we’ll never know then.”

“...”

“...”

“Jack.”

“Sling.”

“Youse paying for their lodging until they can start sellin’, you know that right?”

"Yeah yeah, I know the drill."

"I hate this drill."

"I know ya do, that's why I love running it so much."

[newtsies]

When I Was Your Man || A Ralbert One Shot

a/n - hello! so basically this one shot is a College Newsies AU where Racetrack and Albert broke up and Race started dating Spot :'). it's about ralbert though?? so it's like- okay its from alberts POV and it's based on When I Was Your Man so yeah :D (all lyrics from the song will be in bold and italicized),, i'll only be writing the chorus once <3

also i didnt edit this cuz its late and IM TIRED SO sorry if it sucks lol

tw('s) - cussing

same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now

Albert didn't sleep well at night, if he even slept at all. His bed was empty. The same bed that he had slept in since the beginning of college. But it wasn't his bed, it was their bed. At least, it used to be theirs. Now, it was just his, but he couldn't accept that it was only his.

But at one point, it was theirs. Him and Racetrack, it was once their bed. Even if it was only his, Albert could swear that Race's body was still outlined in the cushion of his bed.

The bed used to be so small, too small for the two of them. They cuddled together to keep each other from falling off. But now it was huge. He had no-one to roll over to in the morning, he was alone.

He couldn't even sleep on the right side of the bed. That was Race's side. Even if Race hadn't slept on the bed for a long time, even if he would never sleep on the bed again. That was his side, not Alberts.

And often times he would lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. He would reach over to the right for his boyfriends- ex-boyfriends hand. But it wasn't there. He reached over and was met with sheets and pillows.

So he didn't sleep, because he had no-one to sleep with and his bed was too big to sleep in. And he stayed awake until the next morning when he got into his car and drove from his apartment to the school.

Not even in his car did he get peace. It wasn't his car, it was Race's car. Race had picked it out, he liked the color. And it smelled like Race's cologne and it held memories of Race in each dent of the leather seats.

So he sold the car. He got a new car, his own car. But even with the smell of Race gone, with his memories in the seats gone. The radio in the new car betrayed Albert.

our song on the radio but it don't sound the same

The car radio had one station, and Albert could swear that the station only had one playlist they played each day. Because every day, and it never missed one day, it would play their song. The song they first danced to. So Albert turned off the radio, and he never turned it on. Even when friends begged him to play music, the radio staid off and he played music from his quiet phone.

Every day, Albert showed up to school exhausted. He nearly passed out in class. Lunch was the only time he ever slept. Everyone assumed he didn't get sleep due to his hard classes, which couldn't be farther from the truth. He didn't do his work. He couldn't pay attention in class, not with Race there.

when our friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down

"You really lucked out being with him, Al," Jack said.

Romeo agreed and added onto the comment, "Kelly's right. He's gorgeous. And a genius too. Too smart for his own good."

Albert raised his head from his arms with a desperately sad look. He sighed and shook his head, "I told you guys. I know we broke up a while ago, but it still hurts, okay?" He rested his head back into his arms and closed his eyes tightly. His heart ached with every comment. He knew Race was gorgeous. He knew Race was a genius. He knew so much about him, yet he didn't know him enough to keep him happy.

"Sorry, man. Forgot," Jack mumbled. Romeo muttered something of an apology and scratched at his neck.

"I know you hate school activities," Romeo started, "But you should come to the party tonight. Dance a little, I think it'll cheer you up."

Albert sighed and tried not to think about why dancing would be hard for him. He looked up and pushed his hair out of his face, "I'll come."

'cause my heart breaks a little when i hear your name

"Race!" Spot called from the couch. The music boomed and Spots voice was quiet, but Albert heard the name anyways. He immediately turned to the boy.

Spot grinned as Race made his way over to him. Race plopped into his lap and smiled back as he hugged the boy. Alberts eyes widened and his chest ached.

Even just hearing Race's name hurt Albert, brought back a wave of memories. Each yell of Race's name when he did something dumb, each fond laugh of the name when he complimented him, each whine of Racetrack's name when he bugged Albert too much. He missed it all.

it all just sounds like ooh, ooh, hoo

Jack and Romeo were definitely talking to Albert, but he couldn't hear anything they were saying. The music sounded like gibberish and he couldn't think. All he could do was stare at the couple on the couch and ache at the sight.

mm, too young, too dumb to realize, that i should have bought you flowers

Albert watched as Race giggled at the flower Spot offered him. Spot smiled and put the small yellow flower behind Race's ear. The stem stuck between his ear and his head whilst the bud pointed outwards.

The years that they dated, Albert and Race were young and naive. He didn't know how to be romantic or how to make Race happy. No matter how hard he tried.

"I should've bought him flowers," He sighed. Jack and Romeo shared a knowing glance before pushing Albert to sit down on the couch.

and held your hand

"I mean," Albert continued, "I was too insecure to do anything with him." They didn't even hold hands in public, because Albert was scared. Scared of what society would think.

should have gave you all my hours, when i had the chance

Albert and Race had started dating their first year of college. Albert was constantly busy with classes. He was always doing work and stressing about class.

Anytime Race would make an attempt to spend time with him, he shut it down.

"I'm doing work," He would say, "You should be doing work, too."

He wanted to do well, get a good job, find a good home, start a family. But all of that was dumb. It was pointless. To hell with it all if we didn't get to come back from his job to see Race. Because Race was his home and he didn't want to start a family with anyone else.

take you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance

"Al!" Race would whine and grab at his arm, "Dance with me, please. Just for a little bit."

Albert never did dance with him. No matter how much he asked, he refused to do so. He couldn't, he needed to get good grades. He needed to provide.

"We can dance later," He would say.

The usual response he would get was, "Promise?" But one day, he received a different answer, "There isn't going to be a later. Not for us, Albert."

now my baby's dancing, but he's dancing with another man

Race pulled Spot up from the couch. They smiled as they moved together to the middle of the room. The music vibrated around them as the two danced.

Albert watched from the camp as he shook his leg. He took in a deep and quaking breath before stumbling out of the house. He threw his cup to the side and gulped in a large breath.

my pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways, caused a good strong man like you to walk out my life

"What do you mean their won't be a later for us, Racer?" Albert had asked, finally looking up from his studies.

Race had scoffed, "Oh, of course! That's what gets you to look me in the eye, huh?" He had rolled his eyes, "We're done, Al. I can't do this anymore, can't do us. Okay? You're so god damn selfish. You only do what's best for you. Ever think about what's best for us, huh? Do you ever even think about me?"

"Of course I think about you, Race. You're all I ever think about," Al had stuttered out.

"Sure," Race had laughed sourly, "I just wanted to fucking dance, Albert. You wouldn't even do that with me. I'm leaving." With that, Race had grabbed all of his stuff and walked out of the apartment.

now i never, never get to clean up the mess i made, oh. and that haunts me every time i close my eyes

Albert closed his eyes when he left the house. Their breakup flashed behind his eyelids and he choked out a sob. He fell to his knees on the grass.

"God damnit," He weakly hit the grass beneath him, "I could've fixed it. I could- Could've. But- Spot. I can't fix it anymore."

although it hurts, i'll be the first to say that i was wrong

He shook his head, "Race was right. I never thought about him." And his stomach twisted with that realization.

Albert has thought he was thinking about Race, about their future together. But it was never about Race, it was about him. He needed to good grades, Racer didn't. Everything that happened was his fault, and he knew that.

oh, i know i'm probably much too late, to try and apologize for my mistakes

He took a deep breath before falling back to sit down on the grass. The door opened and a boy with curly blonde hair sat down next to him.

Race gave Albert a sad smile.

"I'm not going to say sorry," Albert started, "Because that won't make up for anything. I was wrong, about everything." Race nodded.

"Al," Race said quietly.

Albert shook his head with a small grin, "Don't. Go get, Spot. Be happy. Go love the boy who you want to see when you get home from long work days, okay? Love him the way I love you." He paused, "Not the way I treated you, but the way I feel about you. I know it didn't seem like it. But I love you."

Race smiled and gave Albert a pat on the cheek, "I loved you too."

That was the sad tragedy of their relationship.

Albert was in love with Race. Race had been in love with Albert.

They loved each other at different times. But Albert could accept the pain of being in love with a boy would didn't love him back, because even though Race was in love with someone else, he was happy. And that's all Albert wanted, because Race deserved to be happy.

[i-write-newsies]

(A/N): I decided to do some really simple and classic fluff after all the stuff in the last Oneshot. Hopefully, this one won't take me a literal MONTH. Hope y'all like it!! <33

AUs:

- Modern

- Coffee Shop

- College

Jack POV:

Jack is a hopeless romantic. A hidden one for the most part, but a hopeless romantic nonetheless.

Truth be told, he's never been in too many relationships, at least not ones that lasted long. He's liked a few girls before, boys too, and even dated a few. But they lasted 3 months, tops. His record for the quickest breakup was after 5 hours when the person found another person to dote on.

Despite bad experiences like that, Jack remains infatuated with love and the idea of soulmates. He listens to romantic songs on repeat, would always be ready to lend you a romcom, and daydreams about perfect dates with some fill-in-the-blank person when he's supposed to be studying Art History.

But lately, that blank template has been gaining more qualities of a certain boy from school. A certain boy with dark brown curly hair, with an adorable hooked nose, with olive-green eyes and a shy smile.

The moment his mind finally puts the pieces of the person together, he shoots up from laying down in his bed. He quickly pauses the music and struggles to unlock his phone out of a mix of confusion and excitement.

He scrolls through his contacts to the K section, clicking on Katherine's contact and pressing the facetime button. "Pick up, Kath..." he nervously mutters.

Suddenly, her face appears on the screen, "Hey, Jack! What's up?" she then notices the half vacant, half nervous expression his face is showing.

"You doin' okay?" Kath asks, brows furrowed.

"Huh? Yeah! I uhhhh..." Kath waits patiently, knowing his ADHD makes him lose his train of thought all too easily.

"Right! So, you're the only one who knows about me bein' kind of a hopeless romantic..." Jack looks down slightly, and Katherine giggles, knowing his embarrassment around loving love.

"What? Does big ole Jack Kelly have a crush?"

"I don't know!" he gives an exasperated sigh, "Maybe!"

"Okay, okay, calm down cowboy. Now which lucky person has caught your eye this time?" Jack mutters something incoherent below his breath. "What? I can't hear ya."

"Davey Jacobs."

Davey POV:

Davey sighs, taking a look at his computer.

A 2000 word essay on a topic of his choice for History due in 1 month. He knows how much time he has to finish this, and he knows that he could wait until a week until it's due to start it and still finish it on time perfectly, but no matter the assignment, there would always be a thought gnawing at the back of his brain telling him he NEEDS to get it done right now. And so he does. But he knows he needs coffee to do so.

Davey carefully slips his computer into his crammed backpack, as well as his wallet. He plans on going to his favorite cafe. The coffee there tastes like shit (though he would never admit it), but he knows the staff, and some of the baristas even attend his school. There was one that stood out to him, a certain Jack Kelly

Davey isn't sure what's so interesting about the creative student. It could be his heavy 'Hatten accent, or maybe it's his enthusiastic puppy dog energy about anything. It's kind of... adorable, I guess. He looks down at the ground while walking, trying his best to hide his red face. Davey doesn't swear much, but fuuuuuck.

He likes Jack Kelly. Jack Kelly of all people. The guy who accidentally SHARPENED HIS FINGER IN A PENCIL SHARPENER ONCE. Davey sighs, Jack may be an idiot, but no one can deny that it's charming in a way. He has tons of golden retriever energy.

Davey doesn't know what to do.

He sits down in a corner booth to avoid as much human contact as possible. He opens up his laptop and opens the tabs needed for his project. He slips on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and attempts to block out the thoughts of Jack Kelly. The essay is number one priority right now. Suddenly, Davey sees a looming figure out of the corner of his eye. He snaps his neck up to see...

Oh no.

Fudge.

"What can I get for ya, darlin'"

Jack POV:

Davey's face heats up. I don't really consider this a win, considering that's the way most people react when I call them darling. What can I say? It's a habit of mine.

"U-uhm..maybe-" he stutters quietly.

I speak up to help him out a bit, "I've seen you here before. You always order the hot chocolate with 2 pumps of espresso, right?" He squeaks out a yes.

"Comin right up, doll" his face lights up a bright red again.

Shit. Did I mess it up? Is he uncomfortable with those terms? I come from southern roots, which has pros and cons. The pros are: I'm really resilient, my tea is sweetened to PERFECTION, and I can smell when it's going to rain. Cons: The situation that just unfolded.

As I enter the kitchen area, I sigh. I come on way too strong. I quickly make Davey's order, after all, I did memorize it. I look at the plain hot chocolate. Needs a little something. He seems like the spicy sweet kinda guy, so I carefully add a good amount of whipped cream, and sprinkle some cinnamon on top. I really shouldn't be bringing favoritism into my work, but Dave should be an exception.

Being careful not to spill my masterpiece built out of hot chocolate and whipped cream, I bring it to Davey, who seems very deep in thought, staring at his computer. Trying not to disturb him, I set the drink gently down, then I lift one of his headphones.

"Whatcha doin' Dave?"

He jumps, turning red once AGAIN. "Jesus Christ, bud, got some sorta skin reddening condition?"

"Wh- I- You-" He sputters before regaining his composure, "One, none of your business, two, none of your business."

I feign a wound and put my hand over my chest, "Davey Jacobs! So rude!" I put my arm over my forehead and sigh dramatically, then sneak a peek at him. He's laughing a little. I grin, so he doesn't hate me! Whew!

A few hours,10 drink orders and slightly too loud joking and laughing later, Davey's still here, working on some big project. At this point I've stopped charging him and have just been paying for them myself. I make my way to his table once more.

I notice his cup is empty, "Refill?" I ask, he nods. That's when I notice the bags under his red eyes. I walk back a bit and lean on his table. "You need to sleep, Dave." He shakes his head as a response and I sigh.

I make my way to the kitchen and decide to not add caffeine in this. He needs it. My hands go on autopilot as I start to think about him. He's just so... pretty.

I bite my lip. Should I...? Ah, fuck it, I'm almost done with my shift. I grab a scrap of paper and a pen and scrawl my number, with the message

'Call me ;P'

Beside it. I take a deep breath and carefully balance the cup all the way to Davey's corner booth. The sight is adorable. Davey is laying down on the table, asleep, head tilted to one side, face illuminated by the computer screen. I smile gently.

All I think about for the rest of the night is that sight. As I sit in bed, drawing the scene, I hear a ding from my phone. I open texts and see from an unknown number:

Hey, Jack?

It's Davey.

The student from the coffee shop.

I grin.

Hey Dave :P

I quickly change his contact to <3 Dave <3 with my recent drawing of him as the profile picture.

Before I know it, we're talking about everything. It's honestly so much easier texting than actually interacting with people. My brain decides to peace out for a long minute, and my hands automatically do the typing. Bad decision. Why? Because I barely even notice when I hit send.

Do you wanna go on a date with me? I was thinking about getting froyo, and maybe watching a cheesy romcom. Whaddya say, Dave?

I can only watch, petrified, as I see...

<3 Dave <3 is typing...

~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~

(A/N):

Hope y'all like this! Pt. 2 will be their date!! btw no one has really interacted or requested fanfics, so if you could vote for this or request something, that would really make me happy.

~ Race

[mara-and-its-the-same]

I just learned that there’s like an actual newsies fandom 2 days ago and i’m so so happy about it

and also i like that you just said no, the bluntness was amusing but i also admire it

can you write a finch x reader with a little spice? maybe the newsies are hanging out at the park/pier and he is hopelessly in love with her.

no spice in my good family friendly fanfiction blog

masterlist

It is a lovely, lovely day in New York, and that’s cause for celebration if Finch has ever heard it. All of the newsboys around purposefully bought fewer papers than normal just so they could get out early and enjoy the sunshine. They’ll swallow the cost of fewer profits later, obviously, it’ll be the only thing they’ll be eating for a while, but right now it’s good, damn good, and that’s all they care to think about at the moment.

The Manhattan newsboys have chosen to cluster together on the pier and watch the sun slowly sink over the endless water. The local seagull population has been temporarily replaced by scores of boys in fading shirts and patched pants, scuffed shoes and hats raised to wave at each and every ship that passes by their territory.

It’s a wonderful way to spend the day, that’s for certain. Later today, once the exhaustion catches up to them and all the Manhattan newsies troop back to their Lodging House to recount all they did, all the imaginary battles won and treasures discovered, they’ll all swear that the water had never been bluer, the wind never more well timed. The sun will never shine as perfectly as it did today, and were they able to travel back in time and revisit this day once more, it would never be quite as good as it is right now. 

They’re all slipping on the rose tinted glasses as easily as if they’ve been worn all their lives. Looking around him, Finch watches his friends laugh and shout and enjoy themselves. They deserve this, all of them. They’ve deserved it for a while. Feels good.

Finch himself is leaning against a sun bleached wooden post, idly carving initials into the already scored wood. They were his at first, the letters of his attention, but they’ve started slipping into something else, heralding a name that no longer belongs to him. It takes Finch several minutes to jolt out of his sun induced stupor and realize what he’s doing, and then he recognizes the name for what it is:  Y/N’s.

Makes sense, at least. Finch is nothing if not predictable. He’s been crushing on Y/N for what, six months now, and he’s just as unlikely to give her up as he had been at the start. It’s not his fault, though. Most crushes you can brush off with a few days’ worth of calculated avoidance, but this is different. This is Y/N, and that means everything is out of his control.

It would be one thing if he didn’t see her at all. Finch could just wake up whenever, get his papers and sell them on some opposite corner of the city. He’d come back late and purposefully stick to his circles of his friends, all of which don’t have to include her.

That would be the plan, at least, and then Finch’s traitorous feet keep leading him in the wrong direction. All roads lead back to her, all of Finch’s jokes land best when he’s telling them to her, and every time Finch swears to himself that he’s really over it this time, he’s not in love with her, he goes out of his way to find her again and it’s all over from there on out.

It’s not like it’s her fault, though. Y/N’s not the one who can’t stay away, that blame rests solely on his shoulders. Finch can’t go without seeing Y/N because he doesn’t want to. The thought of going forever without hearing her laugh at some bad joke of his or even just look at him with that knowing smile (she’s aware of his crush, of that he’s damn certain, Y/N knows everything) makes Finch want to break a bone, not necessarily his.

Someone taps his shoulder a little too hard and Finch stumbles slightly, dragged out of the same spiral of thoughts he keeps getting trapped in as of late. His attacker is Race, as it turns out. Belatedly, Finch remembers that he’d been talking to a group of his friends, Race among them. He might have been zoning out a little too much, and now they’ve been waiting for a response from him for too long.

Race spreads his hands exaggeratedly. “Earth to Finch? Did you lose the ability to hear or are you just ignoring us?”

“Ignoring you is my favorite thing most of the time,” Finch says pointedly.

Jojo cackles. “Funny, Finch. Funny. Out of curiosity, why are you carving Y/N’s initials on that post?”

Finch’s eyes widen, caught in the act, and he swats Jojo on the shoulder. “Shout that a little louder, why don’t you? Besides, I didn’t realize you learned your letters. Impressive, you’re almost on the same level as Les now.”

Jojo just grins. “That’s not an insult to me. Les is wicked smart. I think he could con Pulitzer out of all his riches if he tried hard enough.”

Finch can’t argue with that. Race, though, has shuffled forward to peer intently at the wide swathes of initials now decorating the pier’s post. “That’s mighty fine workmanship, I have to say. I bet Y/N would just love to see it, don’t you think so, boys?”

Jojo snorts. “Most certainly. Maybe we can get Katherine to put a column on it in the newspaper. I can see the headline already: ‘Local newsboy has it bad for–”

Jojo spreads his hands as if envisioning the headline in print, and, unfortunately, he doesn’t even flinch when Finch raises his fists to start swinging. “The only one who’s going to have it bad is you when I put you in the hospital, Jojo.”

Race steps in between the two of them, still choked up with laughter. “Easy, easy. No fights here today, Jackie boy made us promise. Now stow that frown, Finch. You know we’se just playing around.”

“Yeah,” Finch says, still eyeing Jojo even after Race steps away, “I know. You should know better than to say a thing about it, though.”

“Of course we do,” Race says placatingly. “Hey, here’s Y/N now, you can talk to her about your latest track record for starting fights. I’m sure she’d be wowed by it.”

At first, Finch thinks Race is just pulling his leg, but then over the blond boy’s shoulder he sees Y/N walking over to them. He carefully shifts his weight so he’s leaning over the part of the wooden post that he’d been carving, making Jojo clap a hand over his mouth lest he break out in laughter once again and give them all away.

“What’s all this about?” Y/N asks once she’s close enough, one brow raised, “Jack said that he could, and I quote, ‘smell a fight brewing from a mile away.’ Can I go tell him he needs a better nose or was he right?”

“He might have been a little right,” Race says airly, “but we’se all good now, we promised. Say, I bet Finch here wants to tell you all about it.”

Finch shoots a murderous glance Race’s way, but the other two boys are already heading away quickly. The second they’re around the corner, Finch can hear their laughter bubbling up again.

“What was that about?” Y/N asks curiously.

Finch groans. “Don’t worry about it. They’se just trying to tease me, that’s all?”

Y/N grins. “Tease you about what?”

“Nothin’,” Finch says decisively, “Nothin’ at all. Trust me on that.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it,” Y/N says, only barely managing to stow a laugh, “It did seem like quite the scuffle, though.”

“It was fine,” Finch says too quickly, then winces to himself. The last thing he wants to do right now is scare her off.

He glances around them in search of something to say, and realizes that the newsboys around them are starting to slip off of their perches and head back towards the streets once more. The sun is setting already, and it’s time to go again. Shame, he was just starting to appreciate their time off.

Y/N’s looking around too, and Finch panics briefly that she’s going to find someone else to laugh with. He hadn’t gotten up the courage to talk to her until just now, so he can’t possibly lose her yet.

“D’you want to walk back with me?”

The words spring out of his lungs like they’re forced out by an explosion. Finch half expects to be choking on gunpowder, but instead his own nerves are the only thing keeping his throat tight as he waits for her answer.

Y/N pauses, turns back around to look at him. It’s a terrible question, obviously– they’re going to the same place, just like everyone else, so why bother making a point of it? Y/N’s eyes narrow, and then she sees something written there in the cracks of his facade and her entire face clears.

Finch doesn’t wholly know what made her change her mind. He isn’t too good at disguising his emotions, which doesn’t matter normally. He gets mad and he wants the others to see it, to think he’s tough. Finch cracks his knuckles and spits on the sidewalk and everyone else has the common sense to walk the other way.

Now, though? When he’s not rolling his eyes or scoffing at the Delanceys? When he’s not tough but genuine, almost soft but never quite, meaning something more than just a threat? Of course she can see it too. Everyone can, probably.

Y/N takes his hand, and the fear that someone can read him half as well as her disappears from his head faster than the train leaving the station at the end of the day. Finch is left hanging in the dust, watching the last of his misgivings running wildly away from him. He tries not to strut or swagger when they’re walking back hand in hand, but. You never know for sure.

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

[fluffyzoey]

Headcanon!

Davey needs glasses, but he hates wearing them, especially at school. He leaves them home, and goes to school blind as a bat. It gets the point where even he’s actually struggling with his schoolwork because he’s a visual learner and he

CAN’T FUCKING SEE

Anyways, Jack notices that he’s all bent out of shape about his grades. Jack hasn’t seen Davey with glasses ONCE. So, he heads to the Jacobs’ house, finds and tries to comfort Davey. Davey confides in him about the glasses and puts them on for the first time in front of someone.

And Jack looks at him, cracks a smile, and says:

“Wow. Those look amazing on you.”

Two months later, the two are together, Davey is no longer struggling in school, and Davey is just a littttttle more confident in himself.