#i like my jack voice but i need to work on davey

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

omg

can we just *clear the air* for the writing prompts

hi this got stupid long mb lmao

javey brainrot is so fr rn

college roommates au in honor of they were roommates getting updated🙏🙏

so so sorry it took me a week to get to this lmao

Jack was about ready to scream. Davey had been gone for Shabbat for-in Jack's opinion-too damn long. He knew his roommate did this every week, but it didn't make the jarring loss of familiarity any better.

it was sunday morning; Dave was due back today, but not for another four hours at least, and Jack wanted to tear his hair out at the feeling in his chest of Davey being gone.

he had been-not pining, because that was pathetic, he told himself, just wishing his roommate would get home sooner-all weekend and he was ready to fall back into the familiar routine the two boys shared.

as he watched the second hand go around the cheap clock the two had found when they moved in, Jack decided to do something about all his nervous energy. jumping to his feet, he set up his paint covered easel in the corner of the room, and dug a canvas out of his closet, no thought in his mind as to what he wanted to paint.

standing in front of his threateningly blank canvas, jack picked at his cuticles, and then at the seam of his pants, and then brought his hand up to his mouth to bite his nails. the wide stretch of white was intimidating, daunting. and jack had no clue what to do about it.

shaking his head, he pulled out a few random colors and put them on the old shoebox lid he used as a pallet because the real ones are stupid expensive.

finally picking up a wide brush, he put it to the canvas, and blacked out into his "painting coma," as davey had affectionately dubbed it. it was all a blur of color, several dropped paintbrushes onto carpet and the subsequent curses that followed, and time seeming to drag on but at the same time flying away faster than a heartbeat.

nearly three hours later, jack emerged from his haze and blinked as he looked at his canvas.

it was a great collage of colors, swirling and mushing, each color blending perfectly with its neighbor, even if the two didn't exactly meld, jack had managed to coax them to be a beautiful mess.

and there, in the middle, was painted a pair of startlingly familiar blue eyes. the detail was immaculate, almost as if the artist had put an incredible amount of time studying said eyes.

jack groaned and buried his head in his hands, scraping his nails down his cheeks.

all of his paintings recently had included those eyes somewhere, or at least that very particular shade of cerulean. and jack hated it.

because he knew exactly whose stupidly blue eyes they were, and he didn't want to think of the implications of drawing them over and over. because that meant thinking about his feelings, and jack despised doing that, as all teenage and young adult boys do.

he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes before flopping onto his bed. he raised his head to look over at Davey's bed on the other side of the room, covers perfect and unrumpled. davey's half of the room was always either sparkling clean, or a disaster, and there was no in between, he almost always cleaned before he left for shabbat, and this time was no different; his books stacked neatly on his desk, pillows fluffed with the covers pristine, the top six inches of his blanket folded over. jack always teased him for it.

"s' like a hotel dude, kinda weird. like, who does that every single morning? bonkers." davey would get an embarrassed flush high in his cheeks, and stammer out a defense before jack slapped him on the back and told him he was joking. the pink in davey's cheeks was another thing that was a frequent visitor of jacks paintings, the light coral tube of paint nearly as empty as the sky blue one.

jack groaned, slamming his arms out onto the bed. he thought about the way davey's jaw set when he was mad, or focused, or how his eyes crinkled perfectly at the corners when he smiled, or the artistic slope of his nose, or-

his daydreaming was interrupted by footsteps nearing the door to their dorm.

leaping to his feet, jack snatched the canvas off the easel and shoved it back in the closet with the others just as the lock turned.

the familiar sight of davey's dark curls and the gentle slope of his shoulders made jack's heart feel like someone had stuck it in the microwave. the satchel slung over the shoulder of davey's sensible brown coat, the two buttons unbuttoned on his shirt, the jingle of his keys as he hung them on the hook by the door. it all felt so right to jack, like the world could spin again because davey was home.

as the other boy finally turned to face jack, he took a step forward. "howdy, dave." he said, opening his arms for a hug as davey set his bag down at the foot of his bed. a warm smile spread across davey's face as he sunk into jack's embrace, burying his head in the crook of the former's neck, and wow jack didn't want to think about what that could possibly mean as he wrapped his arms around the brunets waist.

"missed you," davey murmured into jack's neck. a low chuckle rumbled in jacks throat, even as a fond smile lit his face. "didja now? didn't know youse was so clingy, dave." he said, wrapping his arms tighter and rocking the two of them slowly.

davey hummed contentedly. "three days is a long time, though."

that got a real laugh out of jack, and if he pressed a kiss to the side of davey's head before he pulled out of the hug, who was to know but him?

"how's ya family? les still bein' a lil sheit?" jack put his hands on david's biceps, as if making sure he was still there. davey made a little chuff sound akin to a laugh, rolling his eyes fondly.

"like you wouldn't believe. Ama said he's got a 'date' with this girl in his class, Sally. 'pparently shes, and i quote, 'a real peach.'" davey's bright smile stretched across his face as jack threw his head back with a laugh. "That kid's too cocky for his own good, i tell ya." jack chuckled.

he patted davey's arms. "'nd how are you? feelin all religion-ed up?" dave snickered as he pushed his hand gently against jack's shoulder. "as much as i wanted to be, so no. its the same old crap about 'sin bad follow the book' and 'don't be a bad child or satan's going to eat your toes' and all that." he smiled, corners of his eyes crinkling in that way jack loved.

suddenly jack realized how close they were together, and how clear he could see all the details in those blue, blue eyes. swallowing thickly, he studied the flecks of green in them, and regretted not adding them to his earlier painting.

then suddenly he couldnt see them anymore, as davey was looking at something about a half inch below jacks nose. jack blinked, hesitantly putting a hand on davey's waist, bringing those blue irises back up to meet his.

"heya dave." he whispered.

"hi jackie," davey breathed back, almost breathless sounding. he glanced down again when jack's tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

their noses were almost touching, and they could feel the other's breath hot on their cheeks.

davey's phone rang. jack groaned as the other boy fumbled with his pocket to pull it out, stumbling backwards to sit on his bed. david answered the phone, face flushed and gaze averted from jacks.

"hi, papa, this really isn- yes- what? no, i didnt take it, ask les, you know he always does that. yeah. yeah, i know. ok. love you too papa." david hung up the phone, ears so red they were practically glowing as he turned to pick up his bag again.

jack was ready to explode again. "davey."

the brunet looked up, still pink.

"can we just-can we clear the air on somethin' here?" jack said, his knee bouncing slightly.

dave straightened up. "of-of course, jack." he shook his hands out, a sign he was nervous.

jack took a deep breath, psyching himself up. "what is this? to you?" he waved his hand vaguely between the two of them.

davey's eyes got wide as he started rocking side to side, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "i think-i think it's whatever you want it to be, jackie." he swallowed as jack stood back up and watched as the other boy started picking at his cuticles again as he approached.

"so if i wanted it to be somethin' a little more'n roomies n' friends, would you- would you be ok with that?" jacks voice wavered as he got closer.

" i think i would." dave's mind was racing, but he started smiling slightly. jack was less than two feet away from him now.

"really? you don't have to pity me, i know i ain't the best looker, if you wanted-" jack's whole expression spelled self doubt and uncertainty.

"will you just shut your stupidly pretty face and kiss me?" davey interrupted, cheeks red.

that was all the invitation jack needed to place a gentle hand on davey's cheek and press their lips together. david smiled into the kiss, placing his hands on jack's waist.

"you really think i'm pretty?" jack murmured against davey's lips. dave laughed and pulled back, bringing a hand up to flick jacks forehead lightly as he buried his face in the other's neck for the second time that day. jack smiled as he held his boy-his! his boy!-and brought a hand up to cradle the back of his neck.

"yeah, i do." david said into jack's shoulder, a stupid grin on his face.

whaaaat??? eel writing something that isn't some subcategory of angst??? what is this?????

yaaaay!! its over. unetided an all that jazz

[ya-what--ya-erster]

Goodbye Don't Last Forever

Javey. Kind of funny ngl. Enjoy.

David Jacobs was eighteen and newly graduated when his girlfriend, Francis Sullivan, left for Santa Fe, leaving no goodbye and no way to contact her.

David went crazy when she left. He loved her and she left without a word to him. He made some stupid (but not too regrettable) decisions in the time after. Dyed his dirty blonde hair a dark shade of brown. Started wearing his glasses again. Went outside only when required (as in almost never). Stopped talking to many of his friends.

Only two of the habits died, and fortunately it was those last two. He found himself to be pretty fine within a few months of her being gone.

Six years later, David Jacobs was 24 years old and getting a new roommate.

"Hi, are you David?" A confident voice came from behind him.

He turned to face- woah he's hot- the person asking the question.

"Yeah, yes, that's me. David Jacobs. Hi."

The man smiled and held out a hand to shake.

"Jack Kelly."

Those eyes... that handshake. So familiar. But the familiarity was out of reach in David's mind.

So he stood up a little straighter, smiled back, and said, "Nice to meet you in person finally. I mean I trusted Albert enough to not find me a serial killer roommate but... I feel very assured now, haha..."

"I won't kill ya, Davey."

Davey...

"Good to know. Same here. Do you need help taking anything up?"

Jack shook his head. "All I's got is this." He nodded to a moderately sized suitcase that he was gripping.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't-"

"It's nothing, Dave. I just had to leave kinda quickly and didn't have much anyways."

"Well, uh. Let me uh... I guess, follow me?"

...

David was down bad for his roommate. And, down bad as in like, Taylor Swift "if I can't have him/I might just die it would make no difference."

Something about him, Jack, felt so familiar in all the most wonderful ways. His smile was a smile David felt like he had seen dozens of times.

David wanted to know why. He wanted to know why this boy felt so natural in the environment. Why he seemed to be the missing piece in David's life.

He was going to find out.

Not today though, he decided, when Jack entered the apartment looking like he was about to burst into tears.

"Hey, are you okay?" David asked slowly.

Jack nodded stiffly, putting his head down and throwing his bag and coat to the floor.

"Jack, you look sad."

"I'm fine."

"Jack."

"I ain't- you don't gotta be all in my business." Jack was heading to his tiny bedroom, so David grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You can tell me, you know?"

Jack leaned forward, hugging David, beginning to cry.

"Woah, hey. Hey, it's alright, let it out..." David wished Jack would hug him more often, and not while crying.

Jack continued to cry for maybe three minutes, David didn't know exactly. What David did know is that when Jack made eye contact with him, he looked like he had done something horrible.

"I ain't a real boy, Dave."

David's heart could have shattered just then, hearing Jack sound so broken.

"What do you mean, you aren't a real boy?"

"I wasn't- I'm not- I am a boy. I know and promise that I am but I just- wasn't born that way and I feel like a fraud and I get sad sometimes."

"That's okay to be sad, Jack. But you're a boy, I know you are. If you say you're a boy, you're a boy. No, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Okay, Jack Kelly, you are no boy, you're a freakin' man."

Jack smiled a little, wiping his eyes dry.

"Thank ya, Davey."

...

David was having none of this "stay up until 3 AM painting" bullshit.

"Jack Kelly, you will start going to bed at a decent time or so help me-"

"I'm fine, Dave!" Jack defended himself.

"You drank four coffees today and three energy drinks. I don't even know how you're still alive!"

"Fine, fine. I will be in bed no later than midnight."

"Is that the best I'm gonna get?"

"Yup."

David sighed, deciding to give in.

"At least show me what you've been working on into the ungodly hours of the night?"

"Maybe someday." Jack smiled mysteriously and disappeared once again into his room.

David was not staring at his fine ass as he retreated. He wasn't.

...

"Davey, do you got any food?"

David was regretting getting a roommate but also enjoyed having someone around. He didn't appreciate having to buy random shit every other week because Jack had a craving and pretty much no money. (He spent his money on rent and art supplies, which David didn't mind because his apartment was cheaper and Jack's art was amazing.)

"We have fruit snacks and spaghetti-o's if that qualifies as food. We might also have a banana."

Jack strolled into the kitchen area after David's previous statement and pulled out a packet of fruit snacks, a can of spaghetti-o's, and the blender.

"What the fuck are you doing?" David asked, shocked and amused all at once.

"I'm making me some dinner, you want some?"

"Jack, there is no way in Hell you are going to eat- drink spaghetti-o's and fruit snacks put through the blender. It's gonna be terrible."

"Actually, no it isn't. My old friend dared me to do it and it actually tastes good."

David had a brief memory flash through his mind.

"Francis! I dare you to put the two most different things you can think of in the blender and then drink it." Race shouted.

"Okay, I'll do it." Francis smiled that daredevil smile of hers and got started. Spaghetti-o's and fruit snacks.

When it was complete, Francis took a long drink.

"Wow. That's actually not terrible."

"Davey, you good?"

David nodded. "Sorry, just. You just reminded me of something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Ex-girlfriend."

"Thought you said you're gay?"

"She kind of helped me out on discovering that."

"Well. That's nice of her. How so?"

"Uh. It's a long story."

"I bet I can handle it. Besides, I have an abomination to drink. I'll listen."

"Oh. Okay. Well. Basically, she decided she was going to Santa Fe and wasn't going to, you know, say goodbye to me or anyone. And I spent a long time angry and then realized I didn't really miss her romantically at all and just was pissed, and then me and my friend Albert accidentally fucked when we were drunk and I was like 'wow that's allowed?' and anyways uh Al and I aren't and weren't interested in each other at all, we were just drunk like I said, but then it all made sense why I wasn't like, sad over the 'love of my life' leaving because it was just a high school girlfriend and I'm not even into girls. So I'm not even mad at her anymore really I'm just gay and confused and I've talked a lot now sorry."

David looked up at Jack for a reaction. He was wearing this face... David could not name the emotion.

"What was her name?"

Huh. Weird question.

"Why?"

"Well, I was just wonderin' if maybe I met her, since I's come here from Santa Fe and all."

"Oh. Yeah, uh. Her name's Francis Sullivan."

"Have a picture?"

"Yeah, one sec." David scrolled through his phone's camera roll until he found her. "Here."

The picture made Jack frown, and David kind of would have done anything to make him smile again.

"You know her?" David asked.

"Yeah, uh. I knew her."

David's heart sped up.

"Really? Is she doing okay? Is she alright? Do you know where she lives, cause I might need to go-"

"Davey. Stop."

"What?"

"You can't exactly go visit her."

"Why not?"

Jack seemed to be looking inside himself instead of at David when he spoke.

"She was... the real depressed type, Dave. Always sad. She never smiled, I don't think. She was in a real bad state of mind."

"What're you-"

"She ain't alive no more."

Everything stopped in David's head.

"What?"

"I'm real sorry, Dave. She just ain't... But I'm here."

"What's that supposed to mean? 'You're here?'"

Jack hesitated before opening his mouth. "She didn't exactly... die the way you're thinking. She, uh. She just... more... changed? She ain't Francis anymore. She cut her hair and went on T and got top surgery and goes by a boy's name now, and he/him. So, uh, tellin' ya she died was probably not the brightest idea but that was an in-the-moment decision."

"Good for him. What does that have to do with you being here?"

Jack made absolute eye contact with David, wondering how he could be so fucking stupid, and held it. Held it as he crossed the room and held it up until the moment he pulled David into a hug.

"I'm sorry for leavin' you. I just had ta get away."

David jerked away from Jack in a quick movement.

"You? You're... You- I can't-" David's brain was moving too quickly and all he could think to do was punch Jack in the face as hard as humanly possible.

Which he did.

"Son of a bitch- Dave! I only told ya cause I thought you said ya weren't mad anymore!"

"Yeah, well. Now I am, asshole. You... You deep friend burnt-ass dino nugget dickhead. You absolute.... I can't even. How dare you? I fucking loved you, yes even if I'm gay now, and you, you just ran the fuck off and never bothered contacting me for six years. I would have understood if you needed to leave, needed to leave me, needed... whatever. I would have given you your space. I hate you."

Jack looked hurt. It made David feel good. All that pain he went through and it was being passed on.

"Davey-"

"David."

"Right, sorry. David. I'm really sorry. I don't- I never meant ta hurt you. To be honest, I thought you'd be glad if I left and never came back."

David felt less good.

"I just- I wanted to feel like I could be free. It didn't really... go as planned. Because I just realized I wanted to come back. Mostly for you."

David didn't stop to think. David just kissed Jack like he was hungry for it.

"I fucking hate you." He said, pulling away.

"No you don't."

"Don't test your luck."

A small moment of touching silence passed.

"So..." Jack started. "You slept with Al?"

"Now I actually do hate you. Get out, I'm calling him. Maybe he'll be nice to me."

"Davey... I love you. I always did."

"I'm... good to know. I can't- I'm still mad, bitch."

Jack just laughed, and he knew right then that it would all be fine.

A/N: hope y'all liked it :) It'll be on ao3 asap

[i-politely-disagree]

Not The Ones They Love

Modern AU

TW: Swearing? Jack hating spot ig

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Jack groaned, using the monotonous voice he reserved for scenarios when he knew it would be best not to express emotions “Really, Race? This guy?”

Race glared, tightening his arm around Spot’s shoulders.

 “Yeah. Got a problem?” he challenged.

Kicking one of Race's stray clothes to clear a path, Jack laughed wryly and motioned to Spot. 

“Um.. I do…it’s Spot Conlon.” He was trying to keep his cool. To breathe. He knew how easily Race was influenced. He knew how easily Spot could influence. And he knew damn well Race knew who he was dealing with. So why? Why the guy who got suspensions basically weekly, the guy who every idiot in school looked up to simply cause he could land a punch and kick a ball? 

Spot took the staring match between the siblings as his chance to leave. He pulled on his jacket and maneuvered his way out, extra careful not to disturb anything. As soon as the door shut, Race spoke up.

“Why do you give a shit who I’m dating?” he began to raise his voice. "This is the happiest I have been in years. You are not messing this up for me” 

“I give a shit because it’s him!” 

Race’s blood boiled; Jack knew nothing. Nothing about Spot's past, the persona he felt he had to put on, and how he treated people he was close to. Feeling Jack's hand rest softly on his shoulder didn't help. Jack was not on his side.

“Look,” Jack spoke, taking a more gentle approach, “I just don't want you getting hurt.” 

Something snapped inside Race. “Hurt?! You think he would hurt me?!” He yelled in disbelief and anger, thankful for his mother's current absence 

“I didn't sa-” 

“Forget it, Jack! I don't need your approval, I can make my own decisions!” tears of anger and frustration threatened his voice with a crack. He may not have said it, but Race knew he meant it.

Jack backed away, hurt by Race's sudden outburst “... I'm just trying to look out for you..”

He looked more worried as he took step after step closer to the exit

“Hurt people hurt people.” He stated like a mother comforting a 3-year-old. 

He wasn’t trying to be condescending; he was trying to gently back up his disapproval, but all Race's ears picked up on was the tone he could only perceive as Jack pitying him. He avoided eye contact, using his peripheral vision to see his brother closing the door. 

Tears spilled down Race's cheeks, falling off his chin, salty liquid staining the hem of his shirt. He brought his legs to his chest, hugging them tightly against him as if the weight of his body was too much for his mind to hold along with the weight of his emotions. Jack’s judgment fell around him, tiny particles accumulating until he couldn’t move, coating the waterlines of his eyes with dust, and falling into his lungs until he was gasping for clean air. 

He was forever grateful for Jack and how much trouble Jack had gotten him out of, but this was going a bit far. Race’s taste wasn’t that bad. Plus, he wasn’t allowed objections when Jack brought Davey over and he hated feeling somehow inferior because of how much control Jack thought he could have over him.

Race wrapped himself in crumpled sheets, his tears spilling and discolouring patches of his mattress. Tears of frustration, anger, lack of validation and vague fear he resented himself for even thinking of. He knew in his heart Spot loved him, even if they hadn’t used that word yet and he knew he had to trust him, trust in himself and trust Jack had no idea what he was talking about.

Hurt people hurt people, but not the ones they love….right? That‘s how it works, isn’t it? You work through the pain together, ignore how you can't fathom anything long-term with them and you stick it out until Jack has a reason to say ‘I told you so’. Feeling his phone buzz under his fingers and wishing his boyfriend had stayed, Race ignored the outside world. All he did was sit with the emotions until they became familiar so he knew exactly what he was bottling up again.

[we-are-inevitable]

from the burdened prompt list: “i know it’s selfish.  but i wish someone would just take care of me.”

davey struggling, having to work longer hours bc his family needs more money this month and jack finds him and davey accidentally lets this hidden “selfish” desire slip out

respectfully y’all are SO jacphobic if you don’t leave a comment on ao3 for this one (im joking (a little))

i hope you guys like this one !!

————

For the Jacobs boys, nights at the lodging house are a rare treat.

They always start the same. One of the boys at the lodge would tell Les about a game they were playing, or an event that everyone was chipping in on. A birthday, most often; birthdays at the lodge were apparently a big deal, since it was the one joy some of these kids might have. The boys who could afford to would offer up a few pennies to buy something nice. A dime novel, maybe, for the boys who liked to read, but usually the gift would be as much candy as a few quarters could buy.

Les, ever the social butterfly, loves being a part of these nights, and always tells their parents at the dinner table. Esther usually allows him to donate a penny or two, especially if this birthday was for one of the littles or a boy around his age. It wasn’t always like this, of course; the first time Les asked to stay the night, it took a long discussion before Esther and Mayer agreed, and they only agreed if David would stay, too. It was a little easier to convince them the second time, and again for the third, and fourth, and fifth, and now the boys don’t even have to ask: if they have a free night with no work at home to be done, they can go, but only if Esther and Mayer know ahead of time.

Once Mayer is cleared to go back to work, though, nights like those are few and far between.

As promised, as soon as their father finds a new job that will be easier on his health, Les and David are back in the classroom, learning literature and arithmetic as though their summer hadn’t been taken over by the strike. David had considered it a miracle, and Les had dreaded it since the start, but school was in session and David finally had structure back in his life.

That was what was missing, right? Structure. A clear plan. No roadblocks, no mishaps— a guidebook to the rest of his life, one he had made up when he was far too young to worry about such things. To David, school is structure. School leads to college, and college leads to a career, and a career means that David can provide for his parents, and his eventual family, and he will never have to worry about not doing enough or not being good enough because he will be enough and things will work out in his favor.

School is structure, and structure is uninterrupted, until it is.

When Esther pulls David aside one morning before he’s supposed to walk to school, David feels his stomach drop. “David,” she starts, her voice ever soft, calm, “Dear, your father and I have been thinking.”

“About?”

“Your schooling. We know how important education is to you, but, darling… You’re a smart young man, so I’m going to be honest with you. With your father’s new job, we’re still struggling to make ends meet. It doesn’t pay as much as his old job, and—“

“Do you need me to stop going to school? So I can work?”

“Oh, dear, we would never ask that of you,” She assures him, gently cupping his cheeks. “You have a brilliant mind, son. You are going to do amazing things one day, I’m sure… I want you to understand that we- your father and I- hate asking this, but,” She pauses, and David can see her frown pinch like she’s in pain, like asking this is hurting her. David hates seeing this expression on his mother. She closes her eyes for a moment, then meets his gaze with a sad smile. “Would it be possible for you to go to school, then sell the evening edition? Just until we can get back on our feet?”

Against his better judgement, David says yes without even thinking it over.

His family needs him. He can manage this. He’ll still be in school, and he’ll be making money, and it doesn’t matter that he already comes home from school dead on his feet because he’s so tired, because this time he’s helping his family and doing something for himself to make something of himself, and isn’t that the point of all of this?

Besides, it works.

It works for three weeks, at least. For three weeks, Does it, no problem. He goes to school and rushes through work so there’s less to do at home, and he’s still getting good marks on most of his assignments. Once school is done, he walks Les to the halfway point between the tenement house and the lodging house, tells him to take his bookbag and put it next to the door, and to give Ima and Aba a big hug for him. He watches Les walk for about a minute or so, just to make sure he’s okay, and when Les rounds the corner of the block, David takes off like a shot to get to the lodge in time.

That’s his every-day for three weeks. He doesn’t make much money only selling one edition, but he’s helping- he can see that he is. His parents aren’t as stressed anymore, and he’s still getting an education and holding down a job, and surely that means something, even if he comes home from work late and misses dinner with his family often and rarely ever talks anymore because he heads right to bed after eating.

Three weeks, and Esther finally sits him down one Friday morning before school.

“David,” she says softly. “Why don’t you stay at the lodge tonight?”

David it’s his head, brows pinching together. “You’re sure?”

Esther nods, and squeezes his hand, something she’s done since he was a child. “I don’t want you having to worry about walking home so late, darling. Besides, you don’t have any school tomorrow, and you haven’t stayed over in a long time— I insist, really. Have some fun with your friends.”

“…Okay,” David says after a moment, nodding. “Okay, I can do that. I won’t have to get up so early for the morning paper tomorrow.”

“Skip it,” Esther say, and runs a hand through David’s hair. “Take a weekend off, baby. Please?”

“But—“

“But nothing,” She interrupts. She has that look on her face: a mother’s look of concern, one that says she knows he’s overworking himself, but it’s not like he can just stop now. “You’ve been such a big help, dear, but you’re still a kid. Have fun, and be with your friends. Don’t worry about work.”

And David knows she’s right. She almost took it back, saying that David could work and go to school, after the first week— David was the one who said that he was fine, that he’d keep it up until winter and see where they were financially. If they were well off, he would stop working after the winter holidays. If not, he would continue. Mayer had said it was a good idea. Good work ethic, his boy; that’s what Mayer brags about to coworkers, and that’s the praise that David keeps square in his chest. Good work ethic.

Good work ethic.

That being said, David is appreciative of being given the weekend to be a teenager again. Everyone has been asking when he’s going to stay over again, and he hasn’t had an answer for them, but now he’ll be able to have a good night again.

The evening headline is a good one, too. Something about some bigshot in Brooklyn being killed. David knows that Spot Conlon and her girls are going to have a field day with this one, that’s for sure, but David is just happy that it was a big enough of a deal to make Manhattan’s news too. The papes sell fast, and David gets to the lodge even faster. Walking through the doors, he’s immediately met with the familiar chaos, and it brings a smile to his face.

“Dave!”

The voice comes from his left, and before he’s able to turn, he’s wrapped in a hug by Racetrack. It only lasts a few seconds, but David laughs and rolls his eyes as Race shoves him almost immediately after.

“Where’ve you been?” Race says with a grin, raising a brow. “You ain’t been here in ages.”

“I just spoke to you an hour ago,” David reminds him. He had seen Race walking back to the lodging house while he was selling. From the looks of it, Race had been walking back from Brooklyn, so odds are that he had been selling across the bridge all day. “I’ve been busy with school, but I’m stayin’ here over the weekend.”

Race nods his head, that signature mischievous smirk reappearing on his face. “Ya don’t say,” He says, teasingly. “Y’know, Dave, Jack’s been throwin’ fits without you bein’ around here so often. You should go talk to him. Does he know you’re stayin’?”

“Not yet,” David replies, shaking his head. “Is he okay? Have I missed something?”

“Oh, no, he’s fine,” Race says quickly. He pulls his cigar out of his shirt pocket, then the lighter from his pants pocket; he offers them up to David, but David shakes his head again and Race nods to himself. “He’s just been missin’ you, I think. He ain’t ever gonna admit it, but…” He trails off, giving David a knowing look, and, yeah, okay.

Okay, maybe Jack and David have a thing going on. There’s nothing really there, not yet, but the chemistry is undeniable; David had at first assumed he was making it all up— he’s never really understood this romance thing— but then Race pointed it out one day, and since then, David has gone to him for every burning Jack Kelly issue his mind could think up. How he wants to kiss him, but he’s never kissed anyone, but Jack has kissed a lot of people so what if David isn’t anything special? Or how it’s unfair that Jack can look so good in nice, tailored clothes, since he has that big job at the World now, you know, so he has to look nice and it kind of drives David mad, and how—…

And how David hasn’t really been here in weeks. And how David has only been selling, then heading home immediately after selling his last paper. And how he can’t remember the last time he had a good conversation with Jack, who should probably hate him by now.

David takes a deep breath. “Where is he?”

Not even five minutes later, his hands land on the last rung of the ladder to the rooftop, and Jack Kelly is there in all his glory: laying on his back, basking in the August sun. Once David has both feet solidly on the roof, he sees Jack’s eyebrow quirk up, though his eyes never open. “Crutch? You good?”

David clears his throat. “Uh— Yeah, but I’m not Crutchie.”

Instantly, Jack sits up, eyes flying open. His look is nothing short of delighted, and he grunts as he pushes himself up to his feet. “Davey! What’re you doin’ here?”

An oddly chipper reaction, considering they haven’t actually talked in a while. Back over the summer, David and Jack were fast friends, and even faster… whatever they are now. They sold together nearly every day, played cards between editions, sat next to each other during every meal, talked for hours and hours on end without ever tiring. They were a package deal.

“I’m staying the night,” David says with a nervous smile, pushing down the thought of this is ruined and he hates me. “It’s been a while, so I figured I could come back for a bit, if that’s okay? I have enough to pay for a bunk, I just—“

“You’re kiddin’ me, right?” Jack asks, walking closer. “Dave, this might be one of the last nights we get on the rooftop ‘fore it gets too cold. You’re stayin’ up here, with me,” He says, and that smile— god, that smile— shines full force. “C’mon, sit down. How’s school been?”

David follows Jack’s lead, eventually sitting next to him on a pile of blankets near the outward corner of the roof. “It’s been alright,” David answers, leaning back and bracing himself on his palms. “I’m still no better in math, but grammar is kind of fun. My teacher thinks I’m ahead, though, whatever that means.”

“That’s good, though, right?” Jack nudges David gently with his elbow. “Means you can take it easy.”

“I guess,” David nods, and lets out a soft sigh. Taking the easy road, it’s never been David’s strong suit. He supposes Jack is right; he can take it a little easier in school and not push himself so hard, that way he can pace himself while selling. Maybe he wouldn’t be as tired then, but… “I don’t think so, though. I’d rather just get school over with so I can focus on working.”

Jack is quiet for a moment. David stares straight ahead, resting along the ledge behind him, until he feels Jack’s hand on his shoulder. “Dave,” He stares, tilting his head. “What’s goin’ on? I thought you loved school.”

“I mean, I do,” David says quickly, though he doesn’t meet Jack’s eyes. “I want to continue my education so I can be a- a doctor, or a business man, or something, but right now… My family needs me right now. If I go faster with school, then I can help them, and—“

“Is that really fair to you, though?”

The question stops David in his tracks. Is it? Not really, no, but then again, what is? If life was fair, his father wouldn’t have gotten hurt. If life was fair, his father wouldn’t even have been working in that damned place anyway, and instead he’d be rich and successful like he had always been working towards. If life as fair, David would be able to focus on school, and wouldn’t be mocked and ridiculed all day for working a job. David knows he’s better off than the rest of the newsies, but at school, it doesn’t feel like it. Most of David’s friends don’t even have to work a job. They get new shoes every year, too, instead of waiting until the old pair gets too small or falls apart. If they rip their clothing, they can mend it and make it look seamless, not patchy, or they just buy new clothing all together. David doesn’t have that luxury. Life isn’t that fair.

He takes a deep breath, then says: “No. It’s not.”

Jack nods. The silence between them is uncomfortable, but only until Jack gently slings his strong arm around David’s waist, pulling him closer. David sinks into his touch, letting himself relax, letting himself lose the rigid tension running along his spine.

“I wish I could help,” Jack says softly, and shifts, allowing David to lie back with his head against Jack’s chest. “But, hey… soon, you’ll be outta school, and you ain’t gonna have to worry about that anymore. Right?”

“Until I decide to go to university,” David amends, “but at this point, I don’t- I don’t know if I can afford to go. My teacher is telling me I should, but it’s going to cost $150… I don’t have that kind of money. None of us do. And- And maybe I could save it up, but not when all of my money is putting food on the table— I can’t just… focus on myself right now. I have a family to feed.”

Jack rubs circles against David’s hip with his thumb, and sighs. “You deserve the chance to focus on you, Davey…”

What breaks David’s heart is that he knows. He knows he does. But it’s not in the cards, not now. David stays silent for a long while, and Jack does too; they listen to the sounds of the city bustling beneath them, the boys’ laughter filtering out from an open window, music playing in the distance.

Neither of them say a word, until David sniffs, and wipes his eyes. “I- I know it’s selfish,” He starts, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I… I wish someone would just take care of me. I know that’s not- it doesn’t work like that. I know. I’m supposed to take care of everyone else, but it’s so fu-fucking hard to just… push myself to the side.” As he speaks, his voice catches, and the next thing he knows, he’s wrapped in both of Jack’s arms. Jack’s hand rubs his back, and David finally allows himself to let go. Not a sudden outburst, no; this is a gradual accumulation of tears until David’s shoulders shake, but he’s silent, because outbursts are unappealing and sadness should be polite.

Still, David finds Jack’s voice grounding him.

“I know, I know… Let it all out, Dave, you don’t gotta be strong right now. I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you… You’re safe to let it out.” And how Jack always knows exactly what to say, David will never know.

David will never know how Jack knows just how to hold him, just how to run his hands through his hair and just barely tug on the strands to reign him in. He’ll never know how Jack knows to kiss his temple, his forehead, his cheeks, all while squeezing his hand or wiping away his tears. He’ll never know how Jack knows that humming calms him down, whether it’s his mother’s Hebrew lullabies or the melody of one of Medda’s songs from the last show she put on.

What David does know, though, is that he’s safe, and he doesn’t have to shoulder the weight of the world. Not around Jack.

When David calms down, he’s still resting against Jack’s chest, letting out a few heaving sighs. “Thank you,” he whispers, tilting his head up to look Jack in the eyes. “I— I didn’t mean to cry, but… thank you.”

“You don’t gotta hide from me, Davey,” Jack murmurs back, tucking a strand of David’s hair behind his ears. “You don’t gotta explain yourself, either… When you’re here, my job is to take care of you, okay?”

“Jack, no—“

“I’m serious,” Jack cuts him off, raising a brow. “You got so much on your plate, and you know that. Right? … So let me help, wherever I can. I want to.”

David takes this in for a moment, before sighing softly and nodding. “Okay. I… I appreciate it.”

Jack smiles gently down at him. For a moment, they stare into each other’s eyes, and as soon as Jack cups David’s cheek, it’s all over. David leans up and Jack closes the gap, and the kiss is short, but sweet, and good, and right.

The weight of the world isn’t so heavy after that.

[thewritersofdeceased]

"No way! What are you doing here?" "Is it okay to give you a hug?" "Hi, I… I don't really know what to say."

Word Count ;; 1,714

SUMMERY ;; Jack's return from Santa Fe. Will the boys be mad at him or will they welcome him back with open arms?

A voice mumbled to himself, staring into a mirror and holding a frown on his face. Jack had just recently returned from Santa Fe with only one person knowing of it. One of his friends, David Jacobs. Not even the women he’d fallen in love with knew he was back. Katherine didn’t know, Race didn’t know, none of them did. Only Davey.

But now Jack was having second thoughts. He had already left them once, during the strike. Will they still trust him after all of this? Leaving them, leaving Davey in charge until he went back to school? Jack hadn’t even known that the taller male had taken selling newspapers as an early morning job. He hadn’t dropped out of school, no. Sometimes, when everyone was done with work, Davey would join them at Jacobi’s and help teach the other Newsies whatever he was learning.

“Jack, I assure you. You’ll be okay. None of them are mad at you. Well- maybe Spot, but we’re not going to Brooklyn yet. Just Manhattan, okay?” He spoke firmly, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders and making the male face him. Jack slowly nodded his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as his lips were in a thin line. “If youse’ say so, Davey. It’s just- nerve wrecking.” The shorter explained, running a hand through his hair.

Though only a sigh escaped the taller. “And that’s normal. Come on, we’re meeting at Medda’s theater in less than an hour. I’d say thirty minutes. We can stop by my family’s apartment, pick up Les, and then head there.” He explained, removing his hands from Jack’s shoulder and nodding his head. “Okay?” It took Jack a couple seconds to answer. “Okay.”

Grabbing his hat and fixing his vest, Davey began to walk as Jack followed quietly. They’d been at the lodge, nobody was there until later on as it grew darker. That was common and something Davey had learned to deal with while spending his time with the boys. Race was usually the latest, having been spending his time at the races. Always betting on one of the horses.

Davey learned from one of the others that Race would’ve killed to be one of those guys. The wind breezing by as you raced with a stallion. He learned that a while ago while Jack was gone. As they walked to Medda’s, they spoke amongst one another. Just mindless chatter. It’s been a while since Jack left, a year or two. Mind as well catch up.

The streets of New York weren’t entirely busy, which just meant the Newsies were most likely at Jacobi’s. So Davey had to lead them a different way so as to not get caught. They all knew Davey had something to talk to them about at Medda’s, and she too gave them permission to even use the theater. They just needed that permission and then everything would be okay. As long as Jack and Davey could get to the theater before any of the other boys, everything would be okay. But knowing how some of the boys, for example, Race and Albert, could get there fast, it was difficult. 

The two continued to walk, Jack messing with the red bandana that would be around his neck and resting casually, like a cowboy would. Well, they usually had it tied, but right now, Jack just messed with it in his hands. He had left his cowboy hat back at Davey’s, hopin Les wouldn’t notice it when the boy went home later on in the day. Then again, Les was trusted with Race and Albert right now, which Davey was slowly questioning why exactly he had done that. A soft sigh escaped Jack as he looked to the brunette beside him. “Feels like things ain’ changed, ain’ it, Davey?” He questioned, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“Nothing’s changed much. Spot comes down here a bit from time to time, but like usual most of his time is spent in Brooklyn. Pulitzer’s been… Well, Pulitzer. Katherine says you two write back and forth sometimes. That’s nice.” He explained as he walked, his thumbs in his pockets as he walked with a relaxed stance. He wasn’t stiff, wasn’t nervous, unlike Jack. He smiled at the mention of Katherine, nodding his head right after. “Yeah. We’s write. I’s just been busy workin’ with a lotta’ animals and everythin. I’s never told ya, I work on a ranch. It’s fun!” He spoke, before an idea popped into his head. “Hey, hey! Why’s don’t I’s take you all there one day? I’s think it’d be fun!”

The sudden excitement of Jack made David smile, nodding his head. “I’d just have to get the permission from my folks to bring Les with us. And if anything, they’d say yes so long as we write. You know how worried they would be about Les.” He explained, gently nudging Jack’s shoulder and letting out a soft laugh. “We’ll go through the backstage doors into Medda’s. By now, the boys should be heading to the front and into their usual seats.” He explained with a soft chuckle. Nodding his head slowly, Jack continued to follow Davey to the back of Medda’s. The same way they had run when running from Snyder. Oh boy, was that a memory. Now that he thought about it ,was Snyder still in jail? Letting a sigh out, Jack nodded his head before following after David. He was okay. Sure, he’s messing with his nails, but that’s become a habit. 

A habit when it came to picking the dirt under his nails, a habit when messing with them, everything. But it made sense to an extent. With walking to the back of Medda’s theater and in through the backdoors, the voices of newsies caught Jack’s attention. And oh boy did he get beyond nervous. Well, three voices however, were more heard than anyone’s. On the stage besides Medda were four of his beyond favorite people. Katherine, Race, Les and Crutchie. “Davey said he had something important to tell all of us. What could it be?” Katherine spoke first, looking around before hearing the voice of Davey peak her interest. “You guys came! I thought you’d all just head back home or to the lodge.” He explained, letting out a soft laugh.

Race playfully rolled his eyes, looking at Davey who came out of the shadows and stood in the lights that Medda had pointing towards the stage. He had a small smile before moving out of the way and smiling. He looked back into the shadows, making a “come on out” motion with his hand. After what seemed to be a couple minutes, the famous Jack Kelly, the man of mystery, stepped out of the shadows. Which resulted in the four on stage standing with widened eyes and the crowd of Manhattan’ newsies cheering as loud as they could. Les, who had been holding onto Katherine’s hand as a habit, had let go by now and ran straight to Jack, who was kneeling down and quickly scooped the kid up into a hug. 

After placing Les down, he waited for the next of the three to make their way over. And that said person was Crutchie. Even with a gimp leg, the boy with the crutch wobbled over, quickly hugging Jack and smiling widely. “No way, what are you doing here, Jack!?” He exclaimed, letting out a bunch of laughs and looking up to the man he’d called his older brother. This was a dream. Casey thought it was, at least. He gently pinched his arm, resulting in a soft “ow!” when he had let go of the hug and looked at Jack. “Davey here convinced me to come and visit. But he, I’s got a plan that no one can know just yet.” Little did these boys know, Jack may or may not just be coming back. But nobody, not even Davey, knew. He had a small smile as Crutchie quickly hugged him once more before wobbling back in order to give someone else the next hug. 

To no one’s surprise, the next one up was Racer. The blonde stood with widened eyes, having taken a couple of seconds to really process everything that was happening. He was looking at Jack, his technical leader, before he spoke with a soft tone of voice, his accent not being as thick as it usually was. “Is it okay to give you a hug?” He asked, earning a smile and nod from the brunette he oh so cared about. But when he got that nod, Jack didn’t expect to be literally lifted off his feet for a moment or two and to be held tightly by the blonde. “You’re actually here! Jacky boy, you’re back!” Race began to laugh out, smiling widely as he eventually placed Jack down. The blonde had a slight bit of tears forming in his eyes, in which Jack wiped away with a playful smile on his face. “I’m back for a bit, Racer. Dontcha’ start going all soft and cryin’ now.” He teased, giving a playful jab to the blonde’s shoulder and letting out laughs. Which then resulted in Racer’s mood going from sad to way too happy. 

Lastly to make their way up to Jack, was Katherine. The redheaded female had tears already forming in her eyes. She took a couple of steps towards him, She spoke softly, eventually, lifting her hands to cup his face. “Hi…” She spoke, her hands shaking as she held his face. “I.. I don’t know what to say.” She whispered softly, giving a small smile as she felt the boy wrap his arms around her waist. The feeling of it and everything felt comforting to Katherine as she stared into the newsies eyes. Jack only smiled down to her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “That’s alright. Just sink in the moment that I’s back, Kathy.” He spoke softly, pressing his forehead against hers and letting out a soft laugh. Before he could even think of anything else to say, Katherine pressed a gentle kiss against Jack’s lips, smiling right after. When she’d pulled away for air, she only spoke softly with her smile remaining warm and gentle.

“Welcome home, Jack.”

[livesincerely]

pretty and mean davey has my brain going BZZZZ for a new au (this will carry very little weight if you haven’t seen top gun but like. hear me out). davey/jack as iceman/maverick. the potential. the banter. the fact that all of the newsies have nicknames already that would work as pilot call signs. just. hear me out.

——

“You guys really are cowboys,” Davey says tersely, tucking his gear into his locker. Spot snorts from just behind him, exchanging a look with Crutchie as if to silently say: here we go again. 

Jack bristles. “What’s your problem, Mouth?” 

Davey slams his locker shut, turning sharply on his heel. He’s right up in Jack’s face now, blue eyes burning. “You’re everyone’s problem.”

The everyone in question survey the scene and all take one collective step backwards. 

“That’s because every time you go up in the air, you’re unsafe,” Davey goes on, “I don’t like you because you’re dangerous.”

Jack’s face darkens and he leans in closer. The few inches in height that Davey has on him have gone from irritating to infuriating. His voice is biting, a challenge. “That’s right, Mouth. I am dangerous.”

—— all this to say: i’ve never even written fic before but your writing always makes me want to :,) and this idea demanded to be shared

I have never seen any of the Top Gun movies but i need you to know that I support this au with every inch of my being. My heart is open, my ears are listening, my eyes are seeing.

If you feel inspired to write more of this then you ABSOLUTELY should

[noxexistant]

Thinking about the implications of Oscar and Morris having been abandoned, but Race knows their father works for the trolley company. Oscar doesn't try to deny it so it's not exactly a secret, but I don't get the vibe it's something they'd openly talk about either.

oh my god i think about this ALL THE TIME

like, how did race know? why did race know? and why did he know to bring it up specifically to antagonise oscar?

it’s one of my more firm headcanons that “delancey” is not the brothers’ real last name, so that removes the obvious connection race (and the other newsies) could’ve made with a “[blank] delancey” working for the trolleys. so, consider:

race saw the brothers soaking the trolley workers.

he’s seen loitering around a lot in various scenes, notably reading one of his papes and smoking on a balcony when jack and davey are first selling together, and he runs when he sees snyder. i like to think this, y’know, means something, it’s something race intentionally does. he hangs around and sees what he can overhear, what he can see.

so, race is out late, skulking and loitering to get his first claim at the gossip mill - information’s valuable, if he finds anything good he’ll be able to sell it for papes or money or food or favours - and he hears the commotion from where the striking trolley workers are stationed. he knows better than to walk over on the street lest he get caught up in it, so he clambers up to a roof with a decent vantage point and watches, peeking over the edge.

there aren’t many trolley workers left still out this late, but there’s a group of them, and it’s all in utter chaos now as they wrangle with two smaller figures swinging at them like their lives depend on it. the delanceys. morris has a bat, race can see the glint of oscar’s brass knuckles occasionally catching the light. the blood on the street and alley walls catches the light too, though in the night it looks more black than red. like ink. splattering all their surroundings and the delanceys themselves.

they’re largely silent and efficient, dead cold like they usually are even when faced with the frantic hollering and shouting from the men they’re beating to the ground, but when they’ve all been subdued, oscar turns his attention to a man they’d apparently singled out. he’s been slumped on the floor most of the time the brothers were fighting the rest, but now he’s scrambling back, cornered against the wall by oscar. morris is hanging back.

“been a while, huh?” oscar says conversationally. race strains to hear, brows furrowing. “bet ‘m bigger’n you remember.”

the man says nothing. oscar grabs one of the dropped bats from the ground and strikes the wall beside the man’s head, so hard and rough the wood splinters against the brick.

“or you don’ remember? huh? you need me to let you know? who am i? who am i, pa?”

the man’s still silent. he tries to climb to his feet, but oscar kicks him hard in the chest and knocks him right back down, knocking a haggard wheeze out of him.

“i’m your goddamn son, you lousy son of a bitch! oscar, yeah? you named me. an’ then you didn’t do much else, ‘cept drink and holler and beat my little brother an’ fuckin’ leave!”

there’s a beat of silence.

“beat you too,” the man finally speaks, voice low and croaking. oscar hits him directly in the face, and even from the rooftop race can hear the crack of his nose breaking. morris staggers back, his bat falling to the ground with a wooden clatter, but he freezes entirely like an animal when the man’s gaze snaps to him with the noise.

“don’ you look at him!” oscar shouts, and hits the man again to get his attention back. “you look at me. i’m’onna make you proud, pa. show you everythin’ you ‘n ma taught me ‘bout the world.”

race feels nauseous. nauseous and fascinated. like watching a trolley accident, he can’t tear his gaze away. the man - the delanceys’ father - tries to fight back, but oscar fights dirty and don’t give him one chance. he beats him ‘til he can’t even lift himself up, and only then does he look over his shoulder.

“mo,” he says, breathless. rough, but also too gentle for the blood soaking him. “c’mere. your turn.”

morris shakes his head. oscar goes over to him then, like there ain’t a man laying half-dead, and their conversation’s too soft for race to hear but it seems to convince morris. they walk back to their father with their hands linked, and with his free hand oscar picks up the bat and hands it to morris’ empty palm.

“say hi to ‘im, mo.” oscar kicks the man in the chest again. “pa - ‘s’morris, see? alive an’ strong an’ worth more than you’ll ever be.”

“hi, papa,” morris says quietly. oscar squeezes his hand and releases it, then squeezes an arm briefly around morris’ shoulders too as he brings both hands to the bat and finds his grip.

“make ‘im sorry, mo. make ‘im regret it.”

morris raises the bat.

race leaves, but not quick enough to not hear that first hit.

[i-didnt-do-1t]

“They’ve asked us to testify.”

“What?”

“Against Snyder. Me n’ a couple of the other boys.”

“Are you going to?”

Jack’s hands tightened around the railing almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know.”

“Look, I mean I know it’s difficult Jack but you’ve got to right? If it means ensuring-“

“Yeah except it don’t ensure anything.” His grip tightened again, voice rising a little as he spoke like David had tried to interrupt him. David stayed quiet, noted that the last time he saw this expression they were at Medda’s after the fight. Cornered and defensive.

Scared.

“An’ even if he does get done for it it’s only gonna be a couple years right? That’s nothing for him. I ain’t wanting to paint an even bigger target on my back for when he gets out.”

“Jack-“

“Maybe if we just leave him alone he’ll leave us alone too.”

David searched Jack’s face, gaze flitting from his suspiciously damp eyes that he wasn’t going to comment on to the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“You really believe that?” He asked.

Jack just kept staring out at the city skyline.

David waited.

.

.

.

“No.” His voice was quiet, reluctant. “But it’s a lose lose here Dave.” And then quieter. “I ain’t ever getting away from him.”

“You can’t think like that.”

“Right I’ll just up n’ swap my brain then.”

“Stop being dramatic. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I’d be dead or in the refuge if I didn’t think like that.”

It felt like a punch to the gut to know that Jack was probably right but he hated hearing it.

“Don’t say that.”

“How many times you been in jail Davey?”

He hated it when Jack made points like this, but had learned he has no choice but to go along with it unless he wanted Jack to shut down again and send him that smile that doesn’t travel to his eyes.

“None,” he said, and the word tasted reluctant.

“I been four.” Jack let the number hang. “Four. And each time I was brought back in Snyder had this- this smile on his face like he was winning some game I was never told we was playing.” He pauses, breathes, looks away. “I told you Dave he hits hard. And you know it’s gonna happen but you never see it coming either.”

David doesn’t say anything.

“Even if he goes to jail it’s gonna feel like that all over again when he gets out.”

He can’t say anything.

“Sante fe weren’t just a pretty town Dave it was a way to get away.”

He knows this. He doesn’t need Jack to tell him. For all Cowboy tries to keep his emotions close to his chest he has a bleeding heart and it’s already stained David’s sleeves.

“I don’t understand.” Is what David says out loud instead.

Jack sighed deeply, pulled himself toward the railing again. “Yeah, makes two of us.”

“He’s barely got a few years on us Jack how-“ he can’t work out how to end the sentence. Decides that has to be good enough. “How?”

“Does it matter? Race is right, it’s a rigged deck n’ he’s got all the marbles.”

David thought about it for a second. Relented.

“You’re right. Guess not.”

[kay-elle-cee]

Hello there! I just finished And The Roar Will Rise and I'm speechless (okay maybe not really speechless because I have a lot to say about it) but anyway, I'd love a director's cut of this fic. What drew you to it, why and how you changed some things, et cetera...

Also, while I'm on the subject, I left a comment on AO3 but totally forgot to mention how incredible the kiss and the moment at the pub later on (including Sirius' perfect reaction) were, so please please tell me more about that too.

Much love ❤️

🙈 A director's cut for And The Roar Will Rise? Prepare yourself, Leda, because I have a LOT to say! (also thank you so much for asking, I'm so happy you enjoyed this fic!!!!)

Alright, let's go point by point:

What drew you to it?

I LOVE Newsies. Like, as someone who listens to musicals on Spotify on a daily basis, as someone whose top genre on Spotify Wrapped is Musicals/Showtunes every year, Newsies is one of my favorite musicals. (The others being Next to Normal, Spring Awakening, and Hadestown, if you're interested in that tidbit of trivia). I love the music, I love the choreography, and I love the push-and-pull of Jack and Katherine.

While watching the pro-shot on Disney+ for the umpteenth time (because yes it's available to watch whenever you want and features Jeremy Jordan with a comical NY accent but the face and singing voice of an ANGEL) I was deep into a particular wave of Jily Brainrot and maybe it's because Katherine has red hair and that helped spur me on, but I just thought "oh my god it's Jily." Not to mention the whole fighting-against injustice plot and the ragtag crew Jack is so embedded in.

Fun fact, I worked so hard on including nods to the lyrics and lines from the actual script without just, like, dropping them in clunkily. It was my first time doing something like this and I really enjoyed the challenge of at least trying to make these things seem natural. I didn't want them to feel out of place, but noticeable to people who are familiar with it (like James telling Lily to "Give 'em hell, Evans" in place of Jack telling Katherine to "Write it good." or James shouting to the newsies "All for one and one for all, we newsies are on strike!" in place of the lyrics "No one can make us quit before we're done/one for all and all for one" followed by chants of "strike!") I actually color-coded and annotated my doc last night and you can see that here.

Why and how you changed things.

*cracks knuckles* alright SO. A few things happened during the planning process that brought it all together:

The World

I knew off the bat that I didn't want them to be in New York, so I needed to move them to London. But with this came the complication of the entire plot—namely, the history of labor unions in England. I looked at that and thought "I don't really want to do that research and get something wrong" so I needed to find the new crux of the Newsies issue.

Sometimes I regret not adding magic into the world of my other AU, restless waves rise and fall, so for this fic, I was like hmmmm what if there is still magic, and there's no statute of secrecy. How would that work? (I went through a few different iterations of this, if they still went to Hogwarts or not, if they all lived and schooled across England but came to London for the summer, etc) This also helped firmly establish a fictional world instead of it being more historical.

The Characters

And honestly first and foremost, I quickly identified the direct ties to the Newsies characters. I have been so adamant from the start (you can ask @alittlebitofeverything23) that Sirius was my Crutchie, even though Remus was probably the obvious choice. And Remus still would've been a good choice! But Remus is so Davey to me, and Crutchie being caught and sent to the Refuge very much felt like Sirius being caught and sent back to live with his parents for whatever reason (which I then changed to Azkaban, for ease and also canon-related reasons).

Picking my Pulitzer was hard for me.* I waffled endlessly on if it'd be Petunia or Vernon, but knowing it was them meant that there was kind of a clear canon-adjacent issue for the Newsies to face. It also made the reveal tricky, because if you know Newsies, you know Katherine's father runs the paper, but when you see it for the first time and she's in the office during that confrontation with Jack, it's a complete surprise. To kind of draw out that suspense a bit in Roar, I name dropped Mr. Mason as the owner (who the Dursleys have over for dinner in CoS), then you get Vernon, and THEN you get Petunia barging in with Lily at her heels. I'm calling it "the slow release reveal" 😂.

*On the subject of Pulitzer, I did briefly consider having it be an old wizarding family, or someone like Umbridge or Voldemort trying to sow division but that was too complicated to pull off so we just kept it simple.

The Plot

Now as for the plot (oh god this is getting so long, I'm sorry!), not only did I have a different central premise for the strike (which meant I had to find a new solution), I also had the fallout of Lily's article happen before the act break/chapter break, so that left a lot of questions for me while writing the second chapter. I had to adjust a bit, and I think finagling that is why it took me longer than expected to update. So I brought in a ringer, and that ringer was a nod to Katherine Plumber from Newies, and once I introduced her and other publications, the ending solution seemed a little more clear to me.

I didn't intend to get too in-the-weeds with press and prejudice but that's what I get for not wanting to do research on labor unions, haha. But it was really nice to write something just hopeful about everything, and I really loved writing how the Muggle newsies stood their ground and supported the wixen newsies.

The kiss and the pub.

Listen, the kiss scene in Newsies makes me absolutely FERAL. The anger to kiss speed does something to my brain, and I was SO EXCITED to write it! I've had the line "God you're so infuriating! I’m about three seconds from hexing you, you know.” written since like last summer, lol. James grabbing her wrist to place her wand under his chin, feeling like he deserves it, to have her GRAB his FACE and kISS HIM?!?!?!?! I'm unwell.

And I'm so happy you enjoyed the end scene at the pub and Sirius' little quips. I missed him in this chapter and wanted to give him some of those lighter moments after I rudely put him in jail. The end was a little tricky, I won't lie, because as I had the Newsies script up, I realize Jack's decision not to go to Santa Fe is pretty....abrupt? Like his friends are just like 😔 and Pulitzer offers him a job that he doesn't even seem excited about and he's like ALRIGHT NEWSIES HIT THE STREETS! So I really wanted to make James' decision a little more fleshed out....he's still getting out of London, just not leaving everyone halfway around the world, which seemed like a pretty good compromise to me.

Additionally, in Newsies, Katherine is very much a "wherever you go, I'll go, too" type of person in the finale, and while Lily has her own plans, I wanted her to have that same sort of encouragement for him. She encourages him to go to Australia if he really wants to, because she wants him to be happy. She listens as he talks through his thoughts, even gently offers her own thoughts on it all. It's been a whirlwind week for them, but she helps offer him clarity for his next big step.

*breathes* Wow I'm....so sorry. This got SO long. I hope you at least enjoyed my ramblings? Could honestly talk about this fic for hours probably. Thank you again so much for the ask and I'm so happy you liked this fic!

[bigmack2go]

Okkay i just saw the sommerville highschool production of newsies jr and i just wanna give you some honorable mentions:

Race holding jack back and jack saying „i cant go back there“ so race lets him go

Race holding jack back from saving crutchie

Jack saying no no no like a mantra like he just woke from a bad dream

Jack whispering „i‘ll be there“ in santa fee

The size difference when albert says „take it down short stop“ where albert is literally shorter

„Im gonna need a definition“ when race says „erster”💀💀💀

Specs and albert were two really good dancers i gotta say

That one mistunes trompete rly put to the vibe in kony

“Peein their pansies” plsssss

Race finch and katherine dancing together is my bew life motto

They’re so respectful too i loved that

Crutchie has a bottom bunk thank fucking christ

Letter from the refuge had me in tears gbr

Jack and medda hugging provides me my life support money

Davey singsonging “above the fold” ahhh

Katherine hugs les this is not a drill i repeat katherine comforts les!!!

They included dnzzah

The poor GUYS head is spinning (the grin on daveys face??? I just knew he was in the fandom!)

Albert is the major albert is the major

Katherine is an icon istg

Turning away and throwing her headback

She’s so real for that

Oscar threw jack on the floor so hard that looked REAL

Morris cracking his fingers. That girl saved her daily finger crack just fir that moment and you could hear

Brooklyms here is everything

Ik that wasn’t on purpose but they missed a high five and i cannot

The single newsie from the bronx is my fav

Jack said “alright” like five times and it sounded like he was a frog😭😭😭

Something to believe in>>>

Kath keeps hugging les which again keeps me alivr

Dave and jack have chemistry

Also their voice work together in harmony really fucking great and as much as i loved jatherine in this production i was kind of pissed when she intervened

All tho they do harmonise even better with all three of them

Race is something else really

Race and katherine platonic chemistry I didn’t know i needed

Eyecontakt and sharong knowing looks

Race made hearts at jatherine it was awesome

Once and for all in a whole was mother fucking epic idek where to start

Teddy my loml!!!

Jack being completely baffled at rosavelt

Newsies on tables newsies on tables evacuate *carcrash* *firesirens* *screams*

Jack and crutchie reunion hug was so deep they dropped everything and i just- dnzzah

TaRaNtChEwLaAwS?

Is that redfinch i see there???

Albert and les fighting bc les is younger but al is smaller

Go get em tiger! Kick that air’s ass!!

@ill-say-anything-i-hafta

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

heyy uh… idrk how this works but could we maybe get some Javey hurt/comfort where jack gets really overwhelmed by everything during the strike and davey calms him down? something like that. if not that’s totally ok! love your work <3

(Note: Thank you so much for requesting something! Super sorry that this took a while, but I really hope you enjoy! Anyone who’s reading this, feel free to request anything you’d like to see- I’m always happy to write requests! 😁)

Everything’s falling apart.

Jack couldn’t stop the whirlwind of thoughts running rampant through his brain, worry and regret eating at his mind until he could barely hear a logical thought over the emotions screaming in his head. He’d just barely been able to find a place quiet enough to try and sort them out- little did he know that the isolation only served to worsen the spiral.

It must have been hours that he sat there, though it was probably only minutes. Eventually, the volume in his head lowered to a dull roar, and Jack stared numbly at the wall in front of him in the dark, lonely alleyway that he’d chosen to sit in. Despite the heat of the summer night, cold worry chilled his bones, seeping into his hands as they ran through his hair.

Everything’s falling apart. The strike was as good as over. They hadn’t even been able to get Brooklyn on their side, nor had that article gotten anyone else to even bat an eye at their cause. Crutchie was gone, his boys were beaten half to hell by Pulitzer’s goons, and Jack had all but lost hope.

He suddenly heard the crunch of a step onto dirt and gravel, and he glanced up to see Davey standing in the mouth of the alleyway, frowning into the darkness until his gaze caught the other boy’s.

“Jack?” he asked, and Jack didn’t dare answer for fear of his voice breaking in response. “Are you okay?”

Jack still didn’t reply as Davey sat down next to him, taking in his disheveled clothing and red-rimmed eyes. “You’re one hell of a sight,” Davey commented, trying to lighten the mood but failing as his pleasant expression turned to one of concern. “How long has it been since you slept?”

“Dunno,” Jack muttered. “Why do you care?” His voice came out more aggressive than planned, and he felt guilt stab through him at the sight of Davey recoiling. God, I can’t do anything right, can I?

“I’m worried about you, Jackie,” Davey admitted. “Well, I’m worried about a lot of things, but mostly you.” He took a deep breath before meeting Jack’s gaze with an intensity Jack had never seen before- a sort of caring look in his eyes that felt more like a glare. “Things aren’t great right out there right now, and those boys need their leader.”

“And it’s one hell of a leader they’ve got.” Jack sighed, trying to keep the prickling at the back of his eyes at bay. “I failed ‘em, Dave. It’s my fault that Crutchie’s locked up and the rest of them are hurt.” His voice wobbled, and he choked out the last sentence as if it were poison. “They’re better off without me.”

“Jack.” Davey’s voice was soft, and his words seemed more of a whisper as he set a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “That isn’t true, and you know it.” He smiled kindly. “It’s not like we’ve done this before, Jackie. When was the last time you led a strike?”

“Never.” Jack knew it was a rhetorical question, but he was too tired to care.

“Exactly,” Davey encouraged, wrapping his arms around Jack and pulling him close. He smelled of cinnamon mixed with fresh-baked bread, and Jack closed his eyes and relished the warmth of the hug.

“We’re all scared,” Davey admitted. “Damn it, I’d be lying if I said I’m not terrified right now.” He chuckled, and Jack couldn’t help but smile as he continued. “They need someone to let them know that they’re gonna be alright,” he said seriously, holding Jack at arm’s length to look him in the eye. “Your boys trust you, Jack. You make them feel safe, protected… cared for.”

Jack nodded, still not completely at ease. “What if I fail ‘em again?” He worried aloud, feeling helpless and humiliated that he couldn’t stay strong- even in front of Davey, even for the kids that were counting on him.

Davey shook his head. “You won’t,” he decided. “No matter what goes down after this moment, I know that you haven’t let us down. You’re going to be okay,” he promised, and Jack felt a strange but not unpleasant warmth blossom in his chest as Davey hugged him tighter, resting his chin on Jack’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Dave,” Jack whispered, and Davey pulled back with a smile.

“You’re my friend,” he replied. “I care about you.”

Jack closed his eyes and smiled as Davey pulled him into another embrace, laughing softly and burying his face in the taller boy’s neck. After a while, Davey stood up, offering his hand to Jack.

“So, what do you say?” Davey asked as Jack let him pull him to his feet. “Are we going to win this damned strike, or what?”

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Yours, Jack (1/5): Hello

Fandom/Pairing: Newsies; Jack/Davey Rating: M Tropes/Genre: Meet-Cute, WWII, Letter Writing, 1940s AU Summary: Jack Kelly doesn’t wake up intending to fall in love. But he bumps into David Jacobs, who’s been drafted in the Second World War, on a crowded street. They strike up an unlikely but undeniable connection, and David asks Jack to write him letters while he’s deployed. Out of their frequent letters, something more than friendship unfolds. Written for the @newsiesficandexchangechallenge

A/N: I’m a simple person. I hear Taylor Swift’s “Timeless” and I need an AU immediately. Hello_Hello_Romeo didn't ask for much of anything specific, just that the boys should suffer. and suffer they will :) (a little. as a treat) So uh, recently I’ve been kind of very interested in WWII and I honestly hate admitting that bc I have a very negative connotation with history buffs into wwii bc they’re always racist old white men but I am neither white nor a man and while that doesn’t automatically make me not racist I hope y’all know that I’m obsessed with WWII in a Non Creepy Way. I just find the social, political, and economical effects it had on the world incredibly interesting! Anyway. That being said. Some shit is historically accurate, some is not bc this is fanfiction and I can literally do whatever I want. Enjoy!

Jack Kelly doesn’t wake up intending to fall in love.

In fact, the day starts like any other. He goes about his morning routine and changes into his selling clothes. After a quick bowl of milk and shredded wheat from his tiny fridge and even tinier pantry, he grabs his bag of art supplies and trots down the narrow stairway of his apartment building.

Just like any other monotonous, will-breaking day, he sets up his stool and easel and sign that reads “Artist’s Sketch $1”.

The DeLancey brothers scowl at him while they set up Mr. Weisel’s produce stand, as if he’s the one with the reputation for taking wooden bats to people’s knee caps. Today, Jack ignores them. He’s not particularly in the mood to pick a fight.

Unlike any other day, things are a little slow going. Jack’s been out here for several hours and the pickings are still slim. An elderly couple taking a walk, a young mother and her two sons—even a middle aged man and his Boston Terrier all take their place in front of Jack for their portraits.

He’s about to pack up and maybe head to Medda’s to see if she’ll have work for him, when he hears arguing just ti the right of him. One voice he recognizes as Weisel’s, the other, however, is new to him.

“I don’t know what kind of operation you’re running here, but either give me what we paid for or give me my money back.”

In front of the produce stand, is a young man around Jack’s age. The crease at the front of his long navy trousers accentuate his long legs, and the shirt and tie beneath his tan pullover sweater is well pressed. He looks taken care of. Jack figures he’s got someone at home—a fiancé, wife maybe—that put those there.

The hands clenched at the stranger’s side and the way his jaw sets determinedly, highlighting his strong nose, however, are mismatched with his clean cut clothes. He doesn’t seem particularly eager for a fight, but clearly has zero intention of backing down either.

Something darts out from behind him, and it’s then Jack notices the little boy who’d been hiding between the young man’s legs. Without breaking Weisel’s gaze, the young man pushes the little boy backwards again, much to the little boy's annoyance, who is insistent on being let in on the action. A wallet drops onto the ground near the little boy, who picks it up and stuffs it back into the older boy’s pocket with a practiced ease.

Continue Reading on AO3

[regina-cordium]

Trick or treat! 🦇💀🐈‍⬛

you get TWO candies because this should've been posted last night but i got too in my head abt characterization for a silly lil fic

-

Growing up, Davey hated his birthday.

It’s bad enough he doesn’t even get his own, but everyone always assumed it to be or tried to make it Halloween themed.

He’s glad he got over the first part quickly – Sarah’s his best friend, the other side of his coin, how could he not want to share it with her? – but the second part stays staunchly true until sophomore year of undergrad.

His friends tried to throw a surprise party for him freshman year, but it had turned out to be a costume party. Davey had tried his best to smile and pretend like he wasn’t frustrated, but he had clearly failed because Katherine had come to him the next day to apologize. Davey appreciated the sentiment, both because he knew she meant it and also was so clearly hungover it was amazing she could stand.

Then Racer’s brother transferred in during the spring semester, and Davey’s whole world changed.

For one thing, he’s immediately dubbed Davey; Crutchie later explains that that’s how Jack shows affection (which makes Davey wonder about Crutchie and Jack’s friendship, but it’s also between the two of them, so if Crutchie is alright with it, who is Davey to say anything).

For another, Jack manages to actually break Davey out of his shell. The others have always invited Davey to things, of course, and dragged him when it was clear he needed a break, no matter how much he denied it. Jack, though…Jack didn’t need to drag or needle or bribe Davey to do things. All it took was the tip of his head, a vaguely pleading look, and Davey was powerless to say no. On the (mortifyingly rare, if he’s being honest) Davey convinced Jack that no, actually, he needs to stay in and study for this class or finish that essay, Jack would accept it and just…stay. He’d throw himself onto Davey’s threadbare couch he got probably fourth hand from a friend of a friend of a classmate, scrolling through his phone or doing his own homework, seemingly content to sit in silence while Davey worked.

Davey had never had someone he could sit in comfortable silence with. It was exhilarating.

The only problem, Davey realizes very quickly, is Jack loves playing host and will take any opportunity to throw a party. Such as, say, a birthday.

Over the course of almost a year, Davey watches with both fondness and apprehension as Jack throws big, often themed parties for each of their friends. Mush’s birthday in February is an explosion of pink and hearts, Race’s birthday in June is Cars themed; even Les gets the Jack Kelly Party treatment when his birthday circles around in July, a Minecraft theme complete with a cake that looks like it’s made out of blocks.

(Davey had already been infatuated with Jack, but that, he thinks, is what made him realize he’s in love.)

Suffice it to say, Davey was nervous when October starts. He knows Jack’s going to be planning something, and the theme is so obvious. At the same time, though, it’s not like he can just go up to Jack and say, “Hey, I know you’re planning a birthday party for me, but if it’s Halloween themed I might cry.” Not only would it be rude and presumptuous, but Davey would also rather die than initiate confrontation.

His birthday’s on a Tuesday, so he’s not surprised when Jack says to come over on the Friday before. He spends the day telling himself that it’s going to be fine, at the end of the day it’s just a party. Just one night, and it’s with his friends so it won’t even be that bad.

Davey’s still telling himself this when he buzzes Jack’s apartment.

Not even a second passes before Jack’s voice crackles through the buzzer. “That you, Dave?”

“No,” he replies drily. “It’s the Queen of England.”

There’s an awful static noise that Davey thinks is Jack laughing. “What’s another zombie wandering the city tonight, eh?”

Davey manages a weak smile, even though Jack can’t see him, but is saved from answering by the door buzzing open. He takes a deep breath and enters the building, walking up to Jack and Spot’s apartment on the fourth floor. He pauses at the door, shaking out his hands as he makes a face at the Halloween themed doormat, and then knocks.

“It’s open!” Jack’s voice calls from inside.

Davey opens the door, not even getting out half his greeting before a group of people yells, “SURPRISE!”

He blinks in, well, surprise as he takes in the room. Seemingly everyone he’s ever met is crammed into the small living room, and while some are in costume, it’s not general Halloween fare. No, people are dressed like…

“Is this Star Trek themed?” Davey asks, looking around at the decorations. There’s a banner of triangles in red, yellow, and blue that state Happy Birthday!; a table across the left wall is covered in a plastic tablecloth printed with different characters from the original series, with more red, yellow, and blue desserts and what looks like a cake shaped like the Enterprise.

Davey quickly scans the crowd, needing to find Jack. When he does, he’s almost shocked to find him dressed like Captain Kirk.

“Happy birthday, Davey!” he crows, making his way through the crowd to throw an arm around Davey’s shoulders. “Sorry if it’s cheesy, but you’ve been so into your Star Trek rewatching this semester I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Jackie, it’s perfect,” Davey says, unable to keep the sheer sincerity and fondness out of his voice. He’s rewarded by Jack flushing red, even stuttering when he moves his hand to between Davey’s shoulder blades and gently pushing him forward and saying, “C’mon, get a drink. Finch’s been bitching all week about trying to make the perfect cocktail, we gotta see if he did it.”

It’s honestly one of the best birthday parties Davey’s ever had. Even Sarah’s dressed up, Trill dots running down her temples and neck.

“I hope you know this means I’m dragging you to the club for my party next Friday,” she says as she wraps herself around her brother. Senior year of high school, the twins had finally decided that they would have two separate get-togethers with friends for birthdays, alternating who gets the first. “It took Kath, like, an hour to get these dots on me.”

Davey turns his head to press a kiss to the top of hers. “I won’t even complain too much,” he promises. Sarah snorts in disbelief (which, fair) and moves to talk to Ritz as Racer and Albert come up to pull him into hugs and back slaps.

It’s after midnight before he realizes he needs a breather, which is something of a record for him just in general. The party’s still in full swing – minus Les, who managed to make it to ten o’clock before falling asleep and being relocated to Spot’s room – so nobody notices when Davey slips out of the window in Jack’s room to sit on the fire escape.

Or…not nobody, apparently, because only a few minutes later Jack’s voice quietly calls out, “Mind if I join you?”

Davey scoots over to make space, smiling at Jack as he sits beside him.

“D’ya like the party?” Jack asks. It’s asked casually enough, but Davey can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way the corner of his grin twitching a bit.

“It’s perfect, Jackie,” Davey assures him just as softly, swaying to the side to gently bump his shoulder against Jack’s. “Not even cheesy at all.”

Jack throws his head back to laugh, and Davey takes the opportunity to stare before Jack’s attention returns to him. “Now that’s a goddamn lie, but I appreciate the sentiment. I know you don’t like Halloween themed shit, so I’m glad I still got a theme that works.”

Davey feels warm to his bones, despite the chill in the air. He’d figured somebody had told Jack about his dislike, probably told him about his party last year, but he realizes that Jack did just know. They’ve been like that since meeting, now that he thinks about it. He and Jack just clicked, understanding each other in a way nobody else seemed to.

Davey sways back into Jack, this time allowing himself to lay his head on Jack’s shoulder. “It’s perfect,” he insists.

An arm comes up to wrap around Davey’s shoulder, pulling him closer to Jack’s side. “Happy birthday, Davey.”

[fluffydavey]

when they hesitate to kiss because it’ll change everything but you pull them in without a second thought - you can't prove it was me <3

soft gestures between friends turning lovers || prompts i'm contact my lawyers currently as we're speaking <33

Davey's standing in Medda's theatre, taking in the sights before him. Medda hadn't lied when she said she'd help the boys out as best as she could, allowing them to use the theatre between shows. The boys had already been to work setting up a table on the stage. He's nervous about having to actually speak in front of people, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Plus, he's really hoping that Jack will do most of the talking.

As he climbs the stairs two at a time, he realises there's voices coming from backstage. He thinks about ignoring them and getting ready for the first meeting, until he hears his name being said and curiosity gets the better of him.

"Have you seen the way he stares at Davey?" Crutchie says, sounding almost tired. "And the way he whines when Davey leaves to go home. It's ridiculous."

"He's so obvious about it too. Like yeah, Davey's got a nice ass, but I bet he's got drawings of them everywhere," Race says, causing Davey to go bright red.

"It's worse than that Race, he draws his eyes. He draws Davey's smile when he's laughing at something stupid Elmer says, and he draws his serious concentrating face when he's thinking real hard teaching the kids something he learned in school. All he needs to do is breathe and there's a whole goddamn notebook dedicated to it."

"Alright Davey!" he hears, and Davey jumps as Jack runs down the aisle to catch up with Davey onstage.

"Jack!" he calls out, a little too loudly, hopeful that their friends will shut the hell up, although they clearly seem none the wiser that Davey's around. He panics, trying to forget everything he's just heard because that's definitely something he needs to not think about to get through this evening. "What are you - what are you doing here?"

Jack laughs at this, looking around the room. "Fairly sure we have a union to run, don't we?"

"Yeah," he answers, kicking at his feet. "Sorry, just, bit overwhelmed is all."

"Can't believe it's finally come to it," Jack says, smiling proudly at the setup their friends had made. "I also can't believe you got Spot to sit up at the table with us. Sorry not sorry for what you're getting yourself in for."

"Best behaviour Jack!" Davey says, his voice softer than he intends. He can't help but wonder what he looks like to Jack now. He doesn't even know if Crutchie's saying the truth but he can't help but remember the times he'd found Jack watching him...like he is now.

“You’re staring,” he hears Jack say, and he looks up to see a nervous twitch in his eyes. “Is it a good stare or a bad stare?”

Davey knows there's boroughs full of kids coming down to see them, to speak about pressing manners that have been brewing for some time. He knows their friends are the other side of the stage. And yet, he feels brave. “A good stare. Definitely a good stare.”

Jack stops and smiles at this, and Davey feels the wandering eyes taking him in, memorising as many little details as he can. He can't believe someone is looking at him like this, let alone Jack. Jack finally makes his way up to the stage, and Davey feels an electric current in the air.

"Brooklyn's on their way Davey," Race calls out, not bothering to even spare the two a look, as he's trying to get a hold of their own boroughs kids from getting into too much trouble backstage.

Which is exactly what Davey needs as a reminder of exactly where he is, and what they're supposed to be doing. He moves to the table, grabbing his notebook out of his bag, along with his mother's good pen. It had seemed a worthy occasion to use such a fine instrument.

Jack places a hand on top of Davey's, and he looks up, suddenly frightened at the floodgates that have been opened. "Jack - "

"You can't tell me you don't feel nothing between us," Jack says, his voice lower, and huskier. Davey's sure everyone in this building is out to get him this evening.

"We can't," he says weakly, his eyes travelling further up Jack's arms to the look of desire in his eyes. Davey wishes he had more composure, knowing just how well Jack can read him so openly. "What if everything changes between us?"

"What if it does for the better?" Jack asks, his voice softer this time.

And well, Davey's never allowed himself to even dream of an outcome where Jack would ever feel like this. He takes a leap of fate, and decides he's done with feeling sorry for himself. He frees the hand that Jack is holding onto, and sees a brief look of disappointment in Jack's eyes, until Davey throws caution to the wind and pulls him close, finally pressing their lips together.

It’s soft. Much softer than David would have imagined their first kiss to be. Jack’s lips are soft and warm against his, and the smell of him is so much stronger for being so close. Jack’s hand inches up to his neck, holding Davey close to him, deepening the kiss and making Davey's insides burn, falling against a chair behind him. He feels Jack laugh against his lips, and he finally pulls apart, smiling brightly at his best friend.

"You never find ways to stop surprising me," Jack says, and Davey just smirks in response.

There's movement from backstage, and Davey's beginning to panic about what he looks like, before Jack puts a reassuring hand on Davey's shoulder. "Look, I'm scared too. I - I haven't felt like this before for anyone else, and I don't want to mess this up. But see, I know we make a good team. And I think I really want to give this a try."

"We'll figure it out along the way like we always do," Davey says, as a crowd of kids begin to fill Medda's theatre. He takes his seat looking out at the crowd of excited kids, with Jack sitting beside him, and he feels Jack give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Together.

[thefactsofthematter]

i mean. what else am i gonna say.

i’d love a perspective flip for what i know, bc there Are a lot of perspectives in that fic so why not ping-pong it some more! also i miss it and it is my personal livelihood.

also if u wanna do the future time stamp for solace in the strangest of things…. that’d be cool as well >:) @jack-kellys

broooooo omg. @jack-kellys

so i had a look back through what i know and i couldn’t land on anything that sparked any thoughts for a perspective flip bc the povs already swap so much….. but seeking solace in the strangest of things however…..

that fic is currently sitting at one chapter due to reasons of “author forgot it existed for a while and hasn’t had time lately to get her head wrapped around it” BUT i do have many ideas on deck about what happens LATER in the story!!

so please enjoy a prototype of a future scene that will probably exist eventually, once ive written some more context for it!!

-

It’s only once Mr. Pulitzer has stopped talking that Jack catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall.

His reflection is wrong, he realizes.

He’s looking at himself, sure, but that’s not him. It’s like there’s a delay— the Jack in the mirror turns his head just slightly, and he has no choice but to copy it, just a split second later, without even consciously trying to do it.

He watches his reflection blink. That’s not supposed to happen.

“What’s the matter, Kelly?” Pulitzer leans his hands on his desk, and offers a smile when Jack looks at him again. “You look… confused.”

Jack feels himself frowning.

“Sorry. I’m a little dizzy.”

That’s what he tries to say. However, that’s not what happens. Instead, what comes out of his mouth, in his own voice, is:

“Nothing’s wrong, sir. I feel fine.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. His hands fly to his throat, in a panic, which makes Pulitzer chuckle.

That’s when he spots it: the flicker of light between Pulitzer’s fingers, a bright zap of energy. It looks almost the same as Davey’s magic— the soft purple light that glows from his hands while he’s casting spells— but this time, it’s a vicious, sickening green.

“Wonderful.” Pulitzer grins. “I’ll offer you my deal one more time, and I trust you’ll have reconsidered your answer. Once again: you’ll do me a favour or two, and then— once you’ve earned it— I’ll do one for you. Sound fair?”

Jack smiles, without meaning to. He lets go of his throat and his hands fall to his sides, as Pulitzer moves his fingers and the light grows brighter.

“Of course, sir,” he says. “I’d be happy to help.”

He tries to fight it, tries to turn and run away— nothing works. It’s like someone else has sat down in his brain and taken over the controls. All he can do now is watch.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Pulitzer says. It sounds far away, like he’s at the other end of a hallway. “We’re going to have fun together, Jack.”

Pulitzer raises his hand. More green light flies forth from his fingertips, and for a moment, Jack’s eyes roll back in his head as pain floods through his body.

He can’t scream. He can’t even flinch.

He stands rooted to the spot, helpless, while magic streams into his head. It’s like he can feel it creeping its way around and settling in, making itself at home in the crevices and corners of his mind. It takes a hold of him in a way that leaves him panicked for a moment… but suddenly makes him feel calm and settled, as it successfully finds its purchase. He’s not sure he’s allowed feel scared anymore.

He’s not sure he’s allowed to feel anything.

“Off you go,” Pulitzer says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. The green light absorbs back into his fingers. “You know what to do. Always a pleasure doing business with you, Kelly.”

Jack smiles, but in a way that feels unfamiliar. It’s not his smile.

“The pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

With that, he turns and leaves the office. His subconscious leads the way: somehow, he’s entirely sure where he needs to go, even though he can’t consciously piece together where that might be. He’s on a mission now, he realizes, and nothing is going to stop him.

[livesincerely]

!! if it’s not too late for possessive!jack i absolutely love the two abo fics you wrote they’re some of my favs of yours. maybe something set in that universe?

I’m cheating a little because I already have my next a/b/o fic partially written, (and by partially I mean I’m 10k in with no end in sight 🙃) but I hope you enjoy this snippet regardless!

Distinctly rated E, so the rest is under the cut 😉

A few more steps and a brief fumble for the doorknob. Davey hits the mattress with a soft fwump, staring up at him with half lidded eyes, his mouth red and kiss-swollen. Jack crawls on top of him, pressing him down with his bodyweight as he drags his lips over Davey’s cheeks and chin, then dipping lower to nip a fresh mark into his neck.

Davey bares his throat to the attention, moaning, “Jack,” in a rough, needy voice that goes straight to Jack’s dick.

“Clothes,” Jack rumbles against his skin. “Need you naked.”

“You first,” Davey counters, already reaching for the front of Jack’s shirt, clever fingers making quick work of the last few buttons.

Jack shakes himself free of his button up, then grabs a fistful of the t-shirt he’s wearing underneath and pulls it up over his head. Davey’s hands are everywhere immediately, sliding over his shoulders and down his back, then over his hips and along his chest. Jack kisses him to within an inch of his life, needing him, needing to taste him, devour him, and Davey’s scent burns hotter and hotter, coiling thick and heavy in the air.

Jack pushes up onto his knees, yanking at his fly until he can scramble out of his slacks, tossing them away without a care. Then he grabs Davey by the hips and drags him down the bed, right where he wants him, and starts fighting with his belt buckle.

“Jesus, Jack,” Davey says, watching with flushed cheeks as Jack peels his khakis down his thighs then wrestles his sweater over his head, ruffled and rumpled and his. “You… fuck.”

“Smell so fuckin’ good,” Jack pants, lying back down between the open vee of Davey’s legs. “Can’t hardly think through wantin’ you.”

“Come here,” Davey demands, tugging him up. “Come—“

Jack goes willingly, slotting their mouths back together, guiding Davey’s legs back around his waist. Davey groans into his mouth when their cocks align just right, and his heels dig into Jack’s ass, urging him closer, their hips rocking together deliciously.

“Can I…?” Jack starts, desire burning at the base of his spine.

“Yes,” Davey says before he can finish, his chest heaving. “Touch me. Please, touch me.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Jack leans down and seals his lips over one of his nipples, swirling his tongue until it pebbles up in his mouth. Davey arches up off the bed in response, a soft little whimper falling from his lips as his fingers dig into Jack’s shoulders.

He coaxes another one of those delicious noises out of him, then another, and another, then switches to the other side, teasing and tweaking until Davey’s breaths have gone ragged. Then he asks, “So, how’d you feel about maybe sittin’ on my face?”

Davey’s voice catches in his throat. “Y-yeah?”

“God, yes,” Jack says, reaching down to palm at Davey’s ass, gripping just hard enough that his cheeks spread slightly, the honey-sweet of his arousal saturating the space between them. “Sweetheart, you smell like absolute heaven. I’m fuckin’ dyin’ to get a taste of ya.”

Davey pushes himself up on his knees, biting his lip as he shuffles around. Jack turns over onto his back and as he settles in, he’s quickly convinced that this is the greatest idea he’s ever fucking had: Davey straddles his head, bracing himself against the wall above the bed, and the sight and smell of him is everything. His ass is magnificent in and of itself, but that combined with his hard, leaking cock, his hole furled tight and thighs shiny with slick… It's a testament to what’s left of his patience that he doesn’t just drag him down and ravage him.

Instead he does his best to give him a second to get comfortable, guides his hips slowly into position, then leans up to swipe his tongue right over where he’s wettest. The taste of him is better than he could’ve ever dreamed, just pure essence of Davey and heat and mate and mine, mine, mine, and Jack can’t help the low, guttural sound that tears out of him, deep and possessive.

“Fuck,” Davey swears, a choked off little moan.

Jack teases around Davey’s hole, carefully at first, then more confidently as Davey’s hips start working in tight little circles, his thighs twitching and quivering on either side of his head. He presses back against Jack’s tongue, unintentionally rocking against Jack’s face, and he’s making the sweetest little sounds as Jack works him open, growing slicker and slicker with each flick and thrust.

Jack gets a hand under around one of his thighs, holding him in place, then presses deep inside, sucking gently at his rim. Davey’s hips jerk in his grasp, but Jack just grips him tighter, fucking him open with his tongue.

“Jack,” Davey groans, and there’s a dull thud⁠—his head falling forward to rest against the wall⁠—and the thought that Jack’s eating him out so well that he can’t hold himself up any more is just fuel to the fire. “Oh, god.”

He wants to make his back arch, his toes curl. Wants to make him pant and sigh and scream.

One last sweep of his tongue, then Jack’s pulling away. Davey makes a noise that’s approaching a whine, grinding down as he chases after the lost sensation; Jack reaches up and slips two fingers inside him instead.

“That good for you, sweetheart?” Jack murmurs, biting a hickey into his inner thigh then soothing the sting away with his tongue, fingers working in slow, steady movements.

“More,” Davey pants, strung out and breathless, heat rolling off him in waves. “More.”

Jack’s more than happy to oblige, angling his wrist until he can press in nice and deep, sneaking a few more greedy tastes of Davey’s slick as he works him open. He curls his fingers up, searching, and when Davey’s thighs clench down around him, sudden and squeezing, he knows he’s hit his mark.

“Jack, I’m⁠—”

“Let go for me, Dave,” Jack says, twisting his hand just so, and there’s an infinite moment where everything goes tight, Davey’s body locking up as he hangs on the precipice, then he falls over the edge with a broken cry.

Jack feels his release more than he gets to see it⁠—every shaky inhale, every trembling muscle, every flex and grind, the wet, hot drag of skin and slick, tongue and teeth⁠—but Jesus, they really are gonna kill each other because that was damn near the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him and they’re just getting started.

He rubs his hands over Davey’s thighs, giving them both a minute to catch their breath, then gives him a little pat.

“Lift up?” he asks, and Davey gives a weak grunt but raises his hips enough that Jack can wriggle out from underneath him. “How’re you doin’, sweetheart?”

“Oh, no complaints here,” Davey manages after a moment, brushing his hair out of his face, his glasses sitting askew on the bridge of his nose. Jack’s heart swells at the sight of him. “This is already the best heat I’ve ever had, so I’m feeling pretty fond of you at the moment.”

“Right back at’cha,” Jack murmurs, leaning in to tuck his nose back behind Davey’s ear, getting another whiff of that glorious honeyed-citrus scent, then pressing a kiss to the skin there. “And good, ‘cause we’re just gettin’ started.”

Davey licks his lips, his eyes dark beneath the canopy of his lashes. “How do you want me?”

“Christ, how don’t I want ya?” Jack says, considering every inch of him with hungry eyes. But he manages to get ahold of himself, instead offering, “However’s best for you, Dave.”

Davey tilts his head. “I seem to recall something about ‘fucking me into the carpet’,” he drawls, and Jack’s dick twitches against his thigh, painfully hard. “That offer still on the table?”

Jack swallows. “An’ I remember someone insistin’ on a bed,” he rasps in response. “Seems a shame ta let it go ta waste, especially after we went ta all that trouble.”

“Into the mattress, then,” Davey proposes, and there’s another flash of pink as he runs his tongue over his teeth—the tease of it is flint and tinder beneath Jack’s ribs. “If that’s alright with you, love.”

It’s a miracle he remembers the condom tucked in his wallet, that he manages to find it and roll it on, that he has the strength to do anything except surrender to the heat building inside him. It’s tingling behind his teeth, stitched into his veins, echoing inside his mind:

Davey. Mine.

“An’…” Instinct is clawing at the inside of his chest, thrashing wildly, begging him to reach out and claim the precious offering in front of him, but he has to ask one more time. “An’, you’re sure?”

Davey’s eyes sweep over him, and Jack can almost feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of it, prickling at his skin. He pushes himself up on his hands and lets his legs fall open, revealing slick-soaked thighs, a glossy, pink hole, and a cock that’s already growing hard in anticipation of round two.

“Jack?” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” It comes out rougher than he means it to, his tongue heavy behind his teeth.

“Come here.”

Jack is not equipped to argue with that voice. Not now, possibly not ever.