#Davey Jacobs fanfic

[livingathousandlifetimes]

For a piece of media that hasn't come out with new content in a long ass time, I'm constantly flabbergasted by the things I learn being in the newsies fandom

[kitswritingantics]

Jack teaching Davey to do rope tricks, but the rope ends up around Jack, and Davey pulls him in and just kisses him

"Jack, I genuinely don't understand how this is s'posed to—" "C'mooooon, Dave, you got it!" Jack said encouragingly, untangling the rope from around the lamppost near him. The two were in Newsies Square just before sundown, Jack determined to teach Davey how to work his rope. Davey grumbled to himself, fiddling with the rope and finally gripping it correctly. Jack nodded proudly, smiling at him. "Good, that's good, Dave. Yer doin' fine." A light blush colored Davey's cheeks as he avoided Jack's eyes, examining the rope. His knuckles turned white as he gripped it tightly, looking back up. "Are you sure I'm doing it right?" "Yer doin' perfect so far, Dave. C'mon, jus' give it a try!" Jack said, stepping back to give Davey room.

Davey hesitated, then nodded, winding up the rope and tossing it, actually managing to get it around Jack, which was the goal the whole time. Jack shot his arms up in triumph, whooping loudly as Davey grinned in surprised pride.

"I knew y'could do it!" Jack said, unraveling himself and tossing the rope back to Davey. "C'mon, one more go, Davey, y've got the hang of it now."

"Jack, I'm not sure, it's getting kinda late—"

"Relax. Sundown ain't fer another fifteen minutes er so. Jus' a couple more gos, c'mon!"

Davey's face cracked into a grin, and he nodded, trying a few more times and slowly getting the hang of it.

His last attempt, just as the sun was going down, Davey tugged Jack close by the middle using the rope. Jack spluttered a little in surprise, prepared to make a snarky comment when Davey reached down to cup his cheek in his hand. Davey's lips met Jack's just as the sun was going down, and the two boys smiled to themselves. Jack's arms came up to wrap around Davey's shoulders, his fingers tangling in his hair.

This moment was perfect.

[ya-what--ya-erster]

if y’all have any alleyway scene javey fics I will take them gladly

[theres-no-escaping-us-pal]

i have the urge to write javey fanfic

opinions?

[sntafe]

okay guys. gen advice needed. i sometimes write these little javey drabbles that are like 300-1,000 words and they just sit in my docs and like. i lowkey want to post them but idk if people would even read them bc theyre so short?? and idk if posting them to ao3 is worth it?? someone help im indecisive and cant do this !! :p

[itsgrapes-exe]

fanart of the fanfic run boy run by @pigeonwit!! it’s literally so good go read it right now

im suprised at how this turned out it was better than i thought it would be

[jack-kellys]

OOUGHGHHHH CAN U MAYBE DO ,, WHO DID THIS TO YOU ,,,, W JAVEY ,,, PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC WHATEVER FITS THE VIBE IDK ,,,,

also unrelated sidenote i accidentally misread "soup for the sick" and thought it said "soup for the dick" and i was like yknow what? yeah sure. before i reread it and realized what it actually said LMFAO

soup for the dick as a bad things happen event.. hmm

ao3 series is here, and u can request a trope from these. let's get into it.

David isn’t one to stay over at the lodge. It’s not a simple thing to head all the way to his family’s small apartment, give them the news, and head all the way back afterward. Usually it’s rather late when he gets the chance to, and consequently hard to prove to his parents why he should stay out instead.

So this time, he doesn’t tell his parents.

Today marks the last day of Jack’s first week as an artist at the World. Sometimes he gets out early enough to sell the evening, or sometimes he goes in late enough to sell the morning. Today was a morning sell day, so David hasn’t seen the boy all day, and he should be seeing him… about thirty minutes ago, approximately. 

David sits on the lodge’s steps inside, feeling like an overgrown weed as other kids tumble up and down past him as they come down for or finish up their suppers. Maybe it’s childish to wait up for the other, and Jack could have easily gotten caught up with something at a place like that with all these fancy people. Maybe Katherine is simply introducing him to some people, or something. 

“I ain’t like it either,” snaps David from his thoughts, and he glances up and behind him at the stairs’ landing. Crutchie’s pulling himself out of the window there, so he must have been up on the roof. He gives David a small smile. “You’re waiting for him, right?”

“Yeah,” David half-grumbles. At this point he and Jack’s…tendencies toward each other were quite apparent with the Lower Manhattan newsies, so he supposes he shouldn’t be too embarrassed about being obvious. “He’s not usually this late, not after office stuff.”

Crutchie bends down with a balance and strength David can only wish he had, pushing his crutch toward David. David crawls up a stair or to and takes it leaving Crutchie free to hop down with the railing. 

“I know,” Crutchie agrees. “And, I mean. He knows this’s the one time to see you today?”

David bites lip, giving a slight nod.

“Then I really ain’t like it,” Crutchie chuckles, though his eyebrows furrow. David smiles his nervous appreciation at the other. “Look, Dave, I’m sure he’ll be here soon. He’s probably thinkin’ all about how you’re sitting here sighin’ to yourself as you stare out the front window.”

“Crutchie,” David mumbles, feeling his face heat up. He’s not as much sighing and batting his eyes as he is gripping the fabric of his slacks and trying to slow his mind down from the top speed it wants to run at. “I’m worried.” 

“Me too,” C assures, tossing an arm over David’s shoulders once he sits himself down. David leans into the other, frowning to himself but glad to no longer wait alone.  

‘Alone’ quickly becomes a luxury as another twenty minutes slips by. The volume in the building has reached its exponential climax upstairs- most of the kids have washed up after dinner and plenty of them will be heading downstairs to the supper tables again to play cards and other games before lights out. 

“Move, Davey!” is demanded of him by 14-year-old JoJo, and David looks up to see her hands on her hips, expectant. Crutchie remains seated, also giving David an expectant look. David does as told. 

Children bounce down the stairs, followed up by Racer, Specs, and Albert, who pause when they see David and Crutchie. 

“Jack ain’t show?” Albert sighs, shaking his head. “Jeez.” 

“I haven’t heard anything from anybody, either,” Specs supplies. “No one’s seen him since the morning edition- not enough to know where he’s at now.” 

So a longer length of time than David had thought. His mind starts running at the speed it wanted to, gaze sliding to Racer’s. They had to start searching.

Racer nods, thankfully reading David’s mind as he heads down the rest of the stairs. “Let’s go, come on.” 

David jumps up instantly, feet wanting to move by now after far too much waiting, but movement outside of the front door stops both of them. 

“Great timing as always, Jackie,” Racer mutters to himself, but the door opens, and it’s Katherine, eyes shockingly wide, door still concealing most of her body.

“Kath?” David says, coming up to the door to open it for her. “You okay? Where’s-”

And then he opens it all the way. 

Jack Kelly is pressed desperately into her side, his arm slung over Katherine’s shoulder as she clearly holds most of his weight. Both his eyes are half closed, one clearly by someone’s hard fist as the bruise around it purples part of his wide nose, smearing half the boy’s face in the color. His lip’s busted, blood only starting to congeal as past drippings of it still line his chin. His cheek’s split, the knuckles David can see are bruised and open, who knows what’s under his shirt, someone's touched his hair. 

David’s stiffened, he realizes, as he knows everyone’s gaze on him. His eyes are only on Jack, blindingly on Jack, edges turning red, especially when Jack grins. 

“Davey…” he says, smiley, too smiley for David’s liking, “you’re still here, ‘s good, good. Wanted to see you, so Kath- Kath go’me here.” 

“Kath,” David says, steely, softly.

“Yep,” she replies, and David takes Jack’s other side, the both of them carrying Jack through the door together in silence, save for Jack’s sharp intakes of air every few steps. 

The thing about the main floor is that it is small and filled with tables. The thing about nearly every bed in the building is that they’re up a flight of stairs. Long ago, David figures, this problem was recognized and a couple mattresses were tossed down the stairs to live in the back of the main floor. This also means David and Katherine are forced to drag Jack’s corpse-looking figure to said mattress, and the last person to occupy it had been Splasher after the strikebreaking.

Every single kid in the building watches as David and Katherine move Jack to the back, eyes huge. Race, Specs, and Albert speed ahead to start pulling tables back and out of the way, and Crutchie follows, speaking softly to a few more vocal newsies to calm them down. It’s more quiet than David’s ever experienced in the usual madhouse of noise the lodge is. 

Slowly, he and Katherine lay Jack down on his back, and Kath immediately turns to him. 

“I just found him like this, right outside the main building,” she says, words hurried and brows crumpled into a deep crease. “I don’t know if someone tossed him there or- or if it happened right out in the open and I had no idea- I- I was working late and I’m- his ribs are busted up too, I checked. I didn’t know how else to- where else to go.”

“Right place,” Race says with a curt nod. “I’m gonna grab Mush, this’s… a whole operation.” 

He zips off, leaving still too many bodies around David and Jack when Jack is hurt and David’s chest is about to fucking burst with the fact. 

“Uh,” he lets out quickly, suddenly, his mouth motoring without his permission. Crutchie, Kath, Albert, Specs, everyone in the room looks at him. “Can you-” David stops himself. He won’t get anywhere if he asks. “Move, guys. Move, for a minute.”

It’s callous, he knows, and demanding, and maybe even unfair. They’re all worried, just like David.

They move. Katherine squeezes his shoulder, and Crutchie gives himself one last look at Jack, but they all move. It’s just Davey and Jack. 

David looks down at the other again, gaze withering. Carefully, his fingers touch the safest parts of Jack’s face, and Jack just barely turns toward him. 

“Who did this to you,” David demands, clear, enunciated, burning.

Jack watches him as much as he’s able, but he deliberately looks away after a few moments, delirious smile dimmed.

“Y’know those’m, those… friends I said I made? At the World?” he mumbles out. His lip quirks, since he’s about to admit something, and David finds a kerchief in his pocket to wipe the boy’s lip quickly. “They.. ain’t my friends, ‘s f’sure, Davey.”

“No they would not be,” David tries to agree softly, but it comes out of his mouth argumentative, maybe. Jack gives him a smile, covering a wince- David catches his hand trying to find his ribs. 

“You look like you’re gonna do something stupid,” Jack hums. 

“I don’t- have.. a look that indicates that,” David spits out. 

“If you’re gonna do it,” Jack continues, and there’s this look in his eye that tells David that Jack is just as angry as he is, “bring someone.”

David brings Race. 

He gets a general description from Jack as the night goes on, Mush having peeled back Jack’s shirt to ice his ribs and stitch up the cut in Jack’s cheek, and Kath points the two boys out to Race and David the next day. It’s kind of a team effort, sure, but to David the effort isn’t done until his fist is in someone’s gut. 

Things have made him feel ugly inside before, it isn’t that unusual for him, but this ugliness is hot and flaming and demanding action. And in the name of the boy David thinks he loves, he’ll let it the hell out. Race’s dark smirk only encourages it. 

He and Race surprise the boys, catching them on their way home. David hasn’t been in many fights since the strike, in all honesty, but he’s had to fend for himself at school as the new resident working boy in his classes. 

David doesn’t let himself think. If he thinks, he’ll stop, and that’s probably the better option, so David has to ignore it. He’s doing the stupid thing, he brought someone, and they screwed up one of Jack’s braids and beat his face in and–

He forgot how much it hurt to hit someone…

David shoves one of the guys into the alley as Race does, and his knuckles find his guy’s nose- once, twice. He earns one to his jaw, and he tries not to reel in surprise, because Race isn’t- Race takes his punch to the ribs he receives and hits back two times quicker as if to erase the action as a whole. 

David isn’t fast in that way, but he’s damn tall, and he takes his target’s shoulders and drives him against the wall, nailing him in the gut while he holds him there. The boy tries to rip David’s grip away, but David practically slams him back as a knee-jerk reaction. His eyes widen at himself, but it’s fine, it’s an opening. He runs his fist into the boy’s cheek. 

“David,” Race hisses after what must be a while, and David’s attention snaps up and over at the other. He nods, and they both drop what they’re doing and scram.

They slow to a quick walk after a few blocks, and Race grins, slapping David’s chest. The boy’s sporting a bruise by his temple, and David thinks he remembers Racer’s head hitting the brick wall.

“You gotta tell Jack! Davey, I never seen you fight like that,” Racer says, beaming at David- proud of him. David can’t help sending a tiny smile back.

“I know that was- uh- well, very reckless, and unbelievably stupid, so,” David sighs out, “thank you.” 

“Yeah, man, I got you,” Race nods. “For Jack, yeah?”

David finds himself nodding, vigorously, not thinking. Not needing to think.

“For Jack,” he echoes. 

The lodge welcomes them back heartily, and David can see Jack sitting up on the mattress in the back, which he should not be fucking doing. He ignores the cheers and rushes over to him.

“What are you doing?” he hisses. “Didn’t Mush say you shouldn’t sit up on your-”

Dark, cherry-colored lips press to his, sudden and silencing. David can feel the cut on Jack’s bottom one with his tongue when he pulls away. 

“You’re nose’s bleedin’” Jack whispers, smirking. David wipes it quickly.

“Uh, sorry,” he lets out, blinking at the other. 

“Did you get ‘em good?” Jack asks, looking up at him, a little differently. Jack’s gaze keeps slipping downward just a tick. David nods slowly.

“I think we did, yeah,” he confirms. “Race was a great help.”

He sits himself next to Jack, even though the boy should really lay down. Instead, Jack shifts himself against David, making himself comfortable. David’s arm slips around his waist.

“You really…care, about me,” Jack says softly. 

“Of course I do,” David nearly scoffs. “Jack. I-”

“This’s something else, Davey, yeah? Somethin’ new?”

David thinks about the burning, and the ugliness- how Jack’s pain had made him feel ugly inside, not just Jack. How he didn’t even think.

“Yeah,” David says. “You okay with it?”

Jack gazes at him again. One of his eyes is officially swollen shut, but the other is wide open, burning with something beautiful.

“Yeah,” Jack smiles. David returns it, without a thought. 

[we-are-inevitable]

and the sun still sets the same // ch. 1 - javid

Summary:

“I get out of class at 5:30 on Wednesday,” David says, looking at the planner section of his notebook. “Do you wanna meet at 6 in the library, then? Figure everything out?”

Jack nods. “Yeah, sure. We can, uh, maybe bring some ideas. For the debate, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” David repeats, giving Jack an unimpressed look. His head tilts just slightly to the left, and Jack watches David’s gaze look him up and down, like he’s sizing him up. Like he’s looking for his next meal, and Jack is the sorry piece of shit in his way. “Text me. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

---

Jack and David live in different worlds. Frat parties and gay bars, chapter meetings and drag queens, beer pong and passenger-seat weed- they're a match doomed to fail, and they're waiting for the wreckage.

But maybe they're more similar than they seem. Maybe they just need some time to figure it out.

Maybe it comes down to decisions and choices, masks and veils, and how to straddle the line between them.

Author's Note:

HIIIIIII I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS!! happy pride and please accept this little love letter to the queers, the freaks, and the fags <3 may you have a safe and happy pride month!

if you enjoy this, please comment and let me know!! this au has been rotting my brain for weeks and i'm so excited to share with you all!

enjoy!!

Read On AO3!

[leading-manhattan]

Dysfunctional || Modern AU

You can also read on Ao3!

David is dead on his feet. After a day of morning classes and the shift he picked up at the restaurant he feels like every spark of energy he had in him has been drained away. The only thing keeping him from sitting down in the stairwell of the apartment complex and passing out then and there is the promise of Jack waiting for him up on the second floor. There's nothing more satisfying than shoving his keys into the lock and pushing open the door. Unsurprisingly the lights around the flat are all on. It's not a big place by any means, they were two broke college kids lucky enough to find an affordable single bedroom near campus, but Jack often flipped on all the lights when he was working late into the night on a piece. In the center of their living room Jack's easel was set up with a medium-sized canvas nearly finished perched in its grip. Hence the lights.

David throws his keys on the counter, glancing around the space to see if Jack is in the room but quickly coming up short. He takes another look at the painting and furrows his brow. He recognizes the painting, splashes of navy and shades of purple that he couldn't name flowing together in a brilliant forest scene, it was the same commission Jack's been working on for the past week. The same commission that Jack's client was supposed to pick up tomorrow. It should've been finished by now so it'd be ready to collect by the evening after Jack wrapped up his classes. 

"Jack, I'm home!" David calls just in case Jack didn't hear him come in from, he assumes, the bathroom. A soft grunt comes from the couch, the cushions blocked by the back facing the door, and a sense of dread starts to stir up in David's gut. "Jackie?" He murmurs much softer into the quiet air of the apartment, slipping his bag off his shoulder and hanging it off the back of one of their dining chairs as he makes his way towards their makeshift living room.  

He's close enough now to see just who's on the couch and his chest constricts at the sight of his boyfriend. Jack is stretched out on his side, head propped up on one of the throw pillows, staring listlessly at his unfinished painting. He's still clad in the tank top and sweats he was in this morning when David left, streaks of paint scattered about his arms and clothes, and his eyes look so dead that for a moment David doesn't feel like he can breathe. He gently bats his anxiety aside and lowers himself slowly onto the armrest by Jack's feet. David swallows thickly, trying to think of the best way to approach this, but ultimately tries to take a casual approach.

"Is this the one you were working on when I left?" David asks softly, careful still not to break the fragile bubble that seemed to encase them. Jack offers another noncommittal grunt in response. David tries to push down the worry that flares cold and demanding in his chest. "I thought they were gonna pick this one up tomorrow, did they say they couldn't make it?" He presses tentatively.

Jack makes a choked sound deep in the back of his throat and David feels like his whole world collapses when Jack's lifeless expression cracks and tears quickly flood his eyes. Jack curls up, arms wrapping around his middle and legs pulling up to his chest, and David immediately jumps into action, leaping from his seat and immediately rushing to Jack's side. It's an awkward fumble lifting Jack up from the cushions high enough so that David can slip onto the couch but he manages and settles Jack lovingly against his chest. Soothing words spill from David's lips as he holds Jack tight, pressing soft kisses into his hair while Jack trembles violently with the force of his repressed emotions.

"I just couldn't do it," Jack gasps, arms uncoiling from his waist to latch desperately onto David's work shirt. He's sure there's a sauce stain on him somewhere but neither of them is in any mindset to care. "I was so prepared to finish it today, I was, but then I just sat down and suddenly it was like I couldn't get up and I-" Jack chokes on his words, a strained sob ripping from his throat.

David feels even more helpless than he did before, arms tightening around Jack while the other man tries pathetically to hold himself together. David's familiar with executive dysfunction, his anxiety has put him in very similar positions to Jack, but he also knows that there's nothing he can really do now to help. It was far too late for Jack to try and finish this painting for his client and Jack had classes tomorrow that he couldn't taint by pulling an all-nighter anyway.

"Hey, hey, hey," David says frantically into Jack's hair when he hears Jack's breath hitch. "It's okay, baby, it's alright. You can have an off day, that's okay." He promises warmly, nuzzling the top of Jack's head softly. He projects as much care and assurance into every movement, throwing himself into the act of holding Jack together.

Jack sniffs and shakes his head, burying his face into David's chest, "I gotta have this done by tomorrow. Ain't no way I'm gonna get this finished. They're gonna drop me and then I'm gonna 'ave a random paintin' I won't be able to sell." There's an undercurrent of anger and bitterness wrapped in Jack's sorrow and David hates how much self-loathing he can hear in Jack's voice. He slides a hand up Jack's back and runs his fingers soothingly through Jack's hair.

"How about this, huh? You're gonna tell the guy that you need a couple more days-" Jack looks up and opens his mouth to protest but David presses a swift kiss to his forehead to silence him. "And if the guy is a big enough asshole that he can't understand than I promise you so many people would love to get their hands on that painting. Jack it's gorgeous. No matter what you're gonna sell it." There's not a doubt in David's mind that if Jack were to list his painting somewhere it'd sell quickly. Jack was incredibly talented and even if he only did commissions sparingly there were plenty of people around the campus familiar and infatuated with his work. Jack's biggest critic was himself.

Jack lets out a watery laugh, offering David a shaky smile that nearly melts him with relief, "Just like that, huh?" Jack asks.

"Just like that." David promises easily. Jack swallows thickly, gaze drifting back to the unfinished painting that was taunting him a few feet away. "Hey, how about we turn off all these lights and order in? We can put on one of those musicals you like." David is determined to keep Jack's focus away from the easel that Jack's been lost staring at for who knows how long. If Jack sat down and just couldn't get himself back up David wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't eaten anything all day and that just wouldn't do.

Jack snorts, unclenching a hand from where it was fisted in David's shirt to wipe away the tears in his eyes, "Shuddup, Jacobs, don't act like you don't like 'em too."

David finally relaxes as the dread and worry start to uncoil. It makes room for the fondness and love that Jack imbues in him. "Yeah, they aren't so bad." He concedes agreeably. David didn't mind musicals but he'd be lying if he said that Jack singing along wasn't his favorite part.

"Can we get Chinese from that place over in Queens?" The tension is bleeding out of Jack's body and without it he melts against David's chest. He's quickly becoming a dead weight, perfectly pliable, and while this makes it a little harder to get up and turn off the lights David can't really say he minds.

"Of course we can." David nods easily, still carding his fingers through Jack's dark hair. Jack sniffles and turns his face into David's chest once again. The feeling of defeat and guilt isn't just going to leave but David's still glad to see that he's helping to make it more bearable.

"You're covered in sauce," Jack mumbles, a whiny note to his voice.

"You're covered in paint." David throws back.

A pause. "Touché."

[thisisthegarage]

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

[livingathousandlifetimes]

Welcome back my Newsies brainrot mental illness! Today I thought of something that has emotionally devastated me but will have absolutely no bearing on literally anyone in my life so you all get it here:

Jack Kelly was 17 during the strikes in 1899. WWI started in 1914 when Jack would've been 32. I'm SPRINTING to AO3 to see if anyone's started mining this hurt/comfort GOLD yet and I'm 100% gonna cry tonight

[hansrillow]

what would you trade the pain for (i'm not sure)

“Dad, I just really need to talk to you. I just need, like… twenty minutes or something. I know I’ve been fucking awful and you’ve got every right to not want me around, I just—I don’t have anyone else. I mean,” he laughed a bit bitterly and sadly, “I’m callin’ you, prob’ly the first person with any right to clock me when you see me.” The line clicked, then there was a moment of silence. For a moment, David thought the voicemail system had cut off his rambling. “David? Are you still there?” or: childhood best friends Jack and David fall into the college drug scene, and then the fallout

read it on ao3

a/n: first of all everyone say thank you to @we-are-inevitable for inspiring me to do this and then HYPING ME UP? so cool of them actually

tws: drug use and addiction. i'll make sure to tag if anything else comes up

[wren-is-a-wreck]

Does anyone want my Javid fic? I’m not a professional fanfic writer so it’s not the greatest, but I’ll put the first bit and you tell me if you want more?

Is Now a Bad Time?- Javey

Notes: It’s was a dark and stormy night… just kidding. It was raining really hard the other day, and the lightning was so bright, so I was inspired

Jack woke up on his roof being pelted by raindrops the size of his fingernails. Honestly, he was surprised that he slept through it this long. Usually Jack woke up in time to get down the block so he could sit in the dry stairwell of the lodging house. But it was definitely too late for that. Every newsie within a reasonable distance would have booked it to the lodge, hoping to keep themselves as dry as possible with the leaky ceilings. Crutchie had decided to sleep in the lodge earlier in the evening, something about his leg predicting severe storms. And it seemed he was right, as Jack’s “penthouse in the sky” lit up with lightning, much too close for Jack’s comfort. He needed to find shelter. Fast.

Jack tried to weigh his options as he secured his few belongings against the whipping wind, and made his way down the fire escape. The lodging house was already out of the question, seeing as it would be filled with wet, tired newsboys. He didn't want to inconvenience Medda by flying into her theater soaking wet and windswept. Then a terrible idea popped into his head. Terrible ideas were Jack Kelly’s specialty. He could go to the Jacobs’ house, and maybe just hide on their protected fire escape for the night. Or maybe Davey was awake at this ungodly hour, as the thunder shook the air around Manhattan, and would let him inside where it was warm. At the time, Jack didn’t think it was a bad idea, probably because he was soaked to the bone, and sleep deprived. He hopped over the last few steps, and sprinted towards Davey’s home.

I hope it’s not too bad… let me know if you want more! The next part is Daveys POV…

UPDATE: part 2 is here

[theres-no-escaping-us-pal]

what if i wrote a fic abt davey falling in love with jack and it slowly switches from him being referred to as only david outside of dialogue to him only being referred to in and out of dialogue?

[sntafe]

guys how do fic writers who are in college and have real jobs do this bc. its my first week of classes and i already feel swamped. SO MUCH LOVE TO PPL WHO DO THAT YALL ARE INSANE

[spot-conlons-pimp-cane]

y'all, send me an ask with a newsies relationship (romantic or platonic) and a prompt so I can write a one shot for it