#jack finch believes in ghosts

[prettyquickpoetry]

What would happen if a ghost hunter who hates psychics is forced to work with one?

…And what would happen if that psychic is exactly the ghost hunter’s type?

Jack Finch Believes in Ghosts

[ckatwriter]

There is nothing heterosexual about this

[pealeii]

OKAY BUT ELMER!!! He perhaps has older siblings or maybe he's an orphan maybe there was a fire (id often thought of him as an orphan but ive seen seen it out there he has siblings so this is my take) even if he has a family hes ignored except as a breadwinner his other siblings don't really talk to him they tease him at first it hurt when the newsies did that too but now he can't tell the difference they love him him his brothers just think of him as another mouth to feed a burden they're indebted to. Elmer follows some of the older newsies desperately wanting to be their friend for them to like him. Elmer wants to belong. He wants it more than anything else in his life. Elmer has a kind heart he wants to believe the best of everyone and jack has always been good to them. It hurts when Jack betrays them. It's the worst feeling he's ever felt. He wants to collapse and scream. He wants to cry.... but he's almost a teen now and the littles need reassurance. He swallows the sword in his throat and plunges on. He helps race and specs the best he can though they seem to think he's a hindrance. When the lodgehouse is finally quiet he silent makes his way to the bathroom. He sobs silently. He wants crutchie or jack but they're both gone and he's alone and he thinks of leaving Manhattan for the first time ever. I mean who would care. He just wants someone to hug him he wants to start over somewhere where he doesn't see ghosts and memories in every corner that make his sobs threaten to become audible. He grips his own arms tightly. "Be strong like Spot and finch and albert youre big now you wanna be a big kid you cant be weak. Jack said so " He whispers to himself.

(Opps this got dark I have more thoughts but I'll leave you with this for now!)

YES! This! Omigosh! I am HERE for the long rants

[schmidtsmike]

Not Just a One-Night Stand

an javey!highschool au in which jack is the stoner kid and davey is the valedictorian “good student” trope

warnings: alcohol and drug use, mentions of child abuse, cursing

Davey pulled up outside of the house, checking the slip of paper Katherine had given him. Yep, he had the right address. This was it! He could feel the vibrations from the loud music already and he sighed. “Why did I come here?” He asked himself. High school parties filled with drugs, alcohol, and the “weird kids” wasn’t Davey’s cup of tea. Still, he came anyway because Katherine didn’t want to be alone. He got out of his car and locked it, beginning to walk up the driveway.

The lawn was littered with people, all standing or dancing in different groups, red cups in their hands - you’ve seen movies. When Davey entered the home, it was like a whole different story. There were couples making out, people smoking - or was it snorting - marijuana. He didn’t care enough to take a second look. “Katherine?” He called, searching through the house. He stopped in his tracks when he saw an framed photo on the wall. It was a school portrait of… Jack Kelly.

Davey couldn’t believe it. This was…. Jack Kelly’s house? He’d never spoken to this boy, only heard of him and seen him in the halls. But he was strikingly attractive and talented, according to Ms. Medda, his theater teacher. “Jack paints our backdrops! He does such an fantastic job,” she’d gushed one day. The other things he’d heard…. weren’t good. Rumors were going around that Jack was the school’s drug dealer. If you wanted a certain substance, you either went to him or his best friends Racetrack Higgins and Crutchie Morris. Those two didn’t deal, but they did use. And they had direct lines of contact to Kelly.

The thought of this boy made Davey shiver in his button-up shirt. Just then, Jack came sauntering down the stairs, an snarky smile on his face. He waved at several people before coming face-to-face with Davey in the kitchen. Now, he’d heard of Davey. Davey was the type of kid who did all of his work. He helped others when they needed it, and even did tons of extracurricular clubs. He was on the football team freshman year. No one knew why he quit.

But the main thing, or rumor, Jack had heard was that Davey was a bully. He picked on people that were below him and Jack had heard him joking around with his better off friends about him. It made Jack sick to hear people speaking of him in bad tongue. He had an big ego and he loved praise. He doesn’t get it at home so what he does get from his peers, he embraces. Jack sat his joint aside and blew smoke right in Davey’s face. “Davey Jacobs…. at one of my parties,” he smiled. His eyes were tinted red. He was definitely high.

Davey coughed and blew the smoke out of his face. He then composed himself and cleared his throat. “I’m not here for you. I’m here for Katherine,” he said. “Oh! So youse two are in kahoots? How nice! She’s right out there - by the pool. Knock yourself out,” Jack patted his back firmly and walked over to a boy who was standing against the wall. Davey recognized him as Jack’s boyfriend, Spot Conlon. They began making out so Davey turned away and made his way through crowds of dancing drunk teenagers to where Katherine sat by the pool, with Finch. He was one of the good kids at school. He was abused at home but made sure to stay positive.

“Hey, Jacobs!” Finch smiled. “Looks like you saw a ghost,” Katherine said and watched her friend sit down next to her.

“No… just Jack,” Davey said quietly. “I can’t stand that guy and the way he acts. He’s so….”

“He’s a sick fuck is what he is,” Finch mutters, taking a few back strokes in the water. Katherine rolled her eyes. “He’s still human, so I’m not gonna say ill things about the boy but…. he is a bad guy,” she frowned. Davey looked back inside, curious as to if he could spot Jack. And there he was, yelling after Spot who had just left the party.

Jack frowned after him and grabbed a shot glass, downing several shots. Davey excused himself and went inside, wondering if he could talk to the irritable boy. “What happened with Spot?” He began, grabbing a beer. Jack ignored his question. Instead, he gestured to the beer he was holding and leaned back against the counter. He lit a cigarette and then spoke. “Thought you didn’t drink, Dave.”

“I-I don’t. This is my first one,” Davey said nervously. And this made Jack laugh. He laughed so hard tears came from his eyes. But then he stopped and looked at Davey, his laugh fading.

“You’ve never drank a beer?” Jack asked, astonished. Like it was the most awful thing in the whole world. “I’m being serious,” Davey said defensively, taking the lid off. He took a small sip and tried to ignore Jack’s eyes on him the entire time. He swallowed it and shrugged. “It’s alright. Not the best thing I’ve tasted,” Davey says and sits the bottle on the table.

Jack smiles and grabs Davey’s hand, pulling him upstairs. “Come with me. I got something better,” he said, a mysterious tone to his voice. Davey was led into Jack’s bedroom, that had an huge bay window and lots of art equipment - mostly canvases and paint brushes - along with old pallets of colors. They were mostly dried out so he had to soften them with water. His father, or rather adoptive father, wouldn’t buy him new paint. He stole this stuff from Ms. Medda.

Davey stood and admired an amazing painting of Jack’s while the other boy dug through his dresser and pulled out an bottle of liquor. “This is my own personal bottle, so don’t drink it all,” Jack said as he passed the bottle to Davey. He stumbled on his feet as he walked to his desk. The Kelly boy was evidently already drunk… and ridiculously high. “Are you sure?” Davey asked hesitantly, and Jack nodded. “Just try it, Dave,” he said.

The Jacobs boy tried a sip, and then another and another. Soon enough, both boys were drunk off of this one bottle. Jack was already on several drugs but… he could tell Davey was starting to feel it. “Alright… enough of that,” Jack smiled hazily, taking the half-empty bottle and laying it on his bed. He stared at Davey for awhile, both of the boys intoxicated and mesmerized by one another.

They began to kiss and one thing led to another, and Davey awoke in the morning - in Jack’s bed. The sunlight was hitting his face and he was met with a splitting headache. Davey groaned and sat up slowly, rubbing a hand along his face. He looked to his right and saw a boy sleeping.

It finally clicked and Davey squealed, falling off the side of the bed. He scooted up against the wall, gasping for air. “I had sex with… Jack Kelly?” He muttered aloud. He couldn’t believe it. He’d slept with the school’s most notorious bad boy. He thought he was gonna be sick. And he did get sick - right in Jack’s bathroom.

Jack woke up and stumbled out of bed. He didn’t have a hangover, because he was so used to drinking by now it didn’t affect him. He heard Davey getting sick and stepped over, leaning on the doorway. “You can’t hold your liquor, huh?” Jack laughed softly.

Davey looked up at him, face pale. “You…. you can?” He asked. He watched Jack sit down on the floor, crossing his legs. “I’ve been drinking for awhile. It’s normally liquor or tequila. I hate beer,” Jack said. “I didn’t think you’d get so sick, though. Need a doctor?”

“I can’t believe I slept with you…. me, Davey Jacobs, valedictorian…. slept with Jack Kelly,” Davey murmured in disbelief. Jack listened to him with a deep frown. “Hey… I’s didn’t force you into it! You kissed me first and kept goin’! This ain’t my fault,” Jack said defensively, throwing his hands up.

“You got me drunk!”

“I did not. You could’ve stopped drinking at any time! Youse kept going!”

“Oh, Finch was right! You’re such an asshole,” Davey scoffed and got to his feet. He began redressing and slipping his shoes on while Jack watched and shouted at him. He blocked it all out. He just wanted to go home and forget all about this morning…. and last night. And this perfect, beautiful boy that he’d slept next to. Davey needed to forget about Jack Kelly. The next day, at school, Davey approached Jack at lunch.

He’d been thinking about Jack constantly the day before. He couldn’t get him out of his thoughts. “I wanna come over. Tonight,” Davey said firmly.

Jack smiled over at him. “Or what? You’ll tell your friends all about me?”

“No! No, no. I just…. wanna talk about what happened, okay? I actually… damn it…. I think I’m in love with you, and…” Davey stuttered over his words, but then stopped short when Jack’s lips met his own. Luckily, they were alone or else it wouldn’t be a big deal. They pulled away, smiles on both of their faces. “Come over at seven,” Jack says, biting his lip and getting up swiftly, leaving Davey sitting alone, blushing in his seat.

[lesjacobs]

Newsies’ Stance On Ghosts

Doesn’t Think They Exist But Respects Them: Blink, Katherine, Finch

Doesn’t Believe They Exists And Tries To Fight Them: Spot, Smalls, Sniper, Jack

Doesn’t Believe They Exist But Are Scared Of Them: Mush, Skittery

Believes They Exist And Respects Them: Crutchie, Sarah

Believes They Exist And Tries To Fight Them: Race, Albert, Hotshot

Believes They Exist And Are Scared Of Them: Les, Davey

[thekadster]

The Newsies Playing Among Us (+ their nicknames)

Jack (Cowboy)

- dark blue; cowboy hat

- really good at lying

- [rolls eyes] "of course the body's in electrical"

- trusts absolutely no one

- keeps those he does trust close to him at all times

- "if anyone kills you I'll kill them"

- screams "NOOOOOOO" whenever Crutchie dies

- really enjoys playing impostor but usually gets crewmate

Davey (David)

- cyan; flat cap

- good at lying

- even if his voice rises a bit when under pressure

- deadly when paired with Katherine as impostor

- very good at deduction

- but also a nervous wreck

- always sus of Race and Spot because they're normally the ones to start throwing accusations

- gets jittery when impostor

- task completionist

- always sus of Katherine just because she's so good

Crutchie (Crutch)

- yellow; cheese hat

- prefers crewmate over impostor

- hates going to electrical

- sometimes can be ruthless as impostor and no one will suspect him

- but normally can't bring himself to kill anyone

- keeps Jack alive (most of the time)

- usually sticks with someone

Katherine (Kit Kat)

- pink; plant hat

- "hey look I'm a peach"

- also sometimes has a mini crewmate and Jack dies from cuteness

- "this is our kid." "yes."

- super observant

- super sus of everyone

- keeps an extra eye on Jack, just because

- dream team with Davey

- gets into heated debates during discussion time

- acts sus even when not impostor (and sometimes gets voted off for it)

Race (ERSTER)

- lime green; toilet paper hat

- "sorry guys I'm new, how do I go in vents like crutchie did?"

- he and Albert do the trick where two people have the same hat and crowd up next to a corner so it only looks like one person

- and it actually worked on Spot

- "SPOT KILLED ALBERT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME"

- "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU FELL FOR THAT" "shut up race"

- he, Albert, Finch, and Specs are the four horsemen of the apocalypse

- deadly when paired with Spot or Jack

Albert (Al)

- black; wet floor sign

- has a voice modifier to make his voice really echo-y when ejected from the ship

- really loud in the ghost chat

- surprisingly good at lying

- "you really think my fat ass could fit through the vents?"

- calls emergency meetings for the dumbest reasons (and sometimes gets voted out for it)

- "STOP FOLLOWING MEEEEE"

Spot (King of Brooklyn)

- red; crown

- y'know, cause he's the king of Brooklyn

- task completionist

- "haha race ded"

- accuses everyone for no reason

- one of the first people to finish tasks

- trigger-happy as impostor

- susses Jack for the meme

- but sometimes he's actually right

General Headcanons:

- they all play over voice call in discord so sometimes you can hear a lot of stuff in the background

- Albert had a loud-ass keyboard and everyone can hear it

- when Les joins: "did you do your homework yet?" "shut up you're not my mom" "I'm telling her" "wAIT NO--"

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Someone Saved My Life

(Jack x Rin Davies, Pt 1)

Word Count: 3600

Warnings: nothing just intimacy, implied sex and a bit of angst thrown in for funsies

A/N: Jack takes Rin to the Yorkshire Moors for their first holiday together. After all they've been through together, they could use the time away. And yet their first night ends with the arrival of an unwanted guest. ((Totally didn't plan on writing anything let alone another story for the two of them. Was going to try to work on an Ivan story, but I tossed around this idea for months now, and it just felt right? Self indulgence is my new name when it comes to writing!))

Things weren't always perfect between Jack and Rin. Jack had days where he slipped back into isolation. The sadness would swell and he wouldn't sleep. Rin knew those were the times he was surrounded. Overwhelmed. And while he mostly ignored the dead, she could feel when they simply refused to ignore him.

They would come in droves and scatter about any room Jack was in. Crammed together like sardines in a can all shouting for messages to be passed to the living. Sometimes Rin would give him a wide berth, the death and decay crawled along her own skin. She would dress with every inch of her skin covered and attempt to sleep alone while Jack banished himself to the sofa. Those nights resulted in him exploding with anger and shouts of desperation to be left alone.

The guilt would wash over Rin. They're a couple, she would remember. Partners. Not just lovers and friends. You take the worst of one another as your own, and she could ACTUALLY do that for Jack. Letting him be was not a choice anymore, no matter what he believed.

Rin would go and gently talk Jack down into her lap. His thick mass of waves and curls against her bare thighs would be sweaty. He would curl on his side with a hand under legs instead of his cheek. His other by his mouth so he could anxiously chew on the already devastated thumb nail. She knew his eyes would be jammed shut.

Rin would brush the curls off Jack’s forehead with fingertips. Fingers that traced delicate and light patterns over his temples and cheeks where they wiped away tears as she hummed. Her thumb soft along his lips before they ran back up where she would press her index, middle, and ring finger into his temple. Then she would sing and fill his head with warmth and love to bring the light instead of death.

“Someone saved my life tonight..” And Rin would look up and around at them all. Her voice came out soft and full of affection. She would narrow her eyes in their direction. Silently chastising them all the while comforting Jack.

His body relaxed as she continued, “You almost had your hooks in me. Didn't you dear. You nearly had me roped and tied. Altar bound, hypnotized, sweet freedom, whispered in my ear. You're a butterfly, and butterflies are free to fly. Fly away..” Her hand would sweep in a wild gesture along the lot of them. He would be asleep, and she would be alone with the shock of the departed that they had another to see them.

As long as Rin connected with Jack he wasn't alone in his ability. They discovered that with Finch. Jack was the conjurer; Rin the conduit. A hundred years ago they would have been rich in the spiritualism movement. Now they were labeled mental and mad and stuffed full of chemicals, their gifts silenced.

Never again for either of them, Rin would hold back the dead so her love could sleep and get peace. When she interfered the protection emanated from her. They would stop shouting, stop begging, just.. stop. Rin would flick her hand like she was casting a powerful spell, her eyes set in determination. Then they would be gone.

Then there were times like this. When Jack closed up his shop with a sign that said “I'm on Holidays. Dunno when, I'm almost thirty and this is my first one.” He put himself and Rin on a train up to Yorkshire where they hailed a cab to what was theirs for the next month.

Rin gazed in delight at the two story stone cottage. It was covered in ivy and moss with a carved stone fence and a picket gate. There was a little English rose garden off to the side of the house, and wildflowers simply everywhere else. In the hills beyond stood grazing cattle and a pond. Behind the hills of Yorkshire.

“Oh, Jack,” it was just a breath that managed to escape her.

“D’you reckon it's alright?” he scratched his shaggy head. There was worry in his green eyes as he glanced towards his partner for approval.

Rin’s eyes met Jack’s, and she slipped her ungloved hand inside of his. Their palms together, she squeezed. “This is stunning,” she hoped to reassure him. Her gratitude and pleasure flowed from her body to his through her touch.

Jack had just bent to kiss Rin when someone interrupted them and cleared their throat. A feminine voice shouted, “Yoo hoo! Hello!”

The couple turned to see a stout, round faced cheerful old woman in the garden. She wore a wide brim straw hat, an old dress and an apron. Rin was reminded of a human Mrs. Potts as the elder smiled wide.

“Aren't you a delight!” she beamed. Making her way to the gate she stopped. “I'm Mrs. Barrow. My husband, Henry is round back in the barn. Oh it's been AGES since we've had newlyweds.”

Jack's cheeks pinked, but Rin giggled. “No. We're not married.”

“Oh, sinful little doves.” The old woman winked. “By the looks of him, I can see why.” She fanned herself dramatically and Jack now turned red. He scratched at his head even harder whilst his eyebrows disappeared in his hair.

“This is Jack, and I'm Wren. But you can call me Rin! Are you the caretakers? Is this your house? We're on our first holiday together.” The words tumbled out of the young woman before she could stop herself.

“Oh no, little Wren. Henry and I..” Rin had let go of Jack's hand to shake Mrs. Barrow’s. The moment she let go, the old woman disappeared. Rin gasped and turned to her boyfriend.

“She was telling us she and her husband did live here. Died from the Spanish flu a hundred years ago.” Jack gave a little shrug, but a tiny grin had crept into the corners of his mouth. “They love it here so much, neither moved on.”

Rin reached for him, and his hand covered hers. The old woman reappeared. “Sorry, Missus. I didn't know?”

She laughed heartily in response, “Sometimes Henry and I forget we're dead. Never had someone who could see us before. Let alone a couple. The moors are full of ghosts, mostly long gone. None of us here for a bother, especially since your beau here looks exhausted. Just popped in for a bit of cheek and a greeting. If you need us, give a shout ok?” Then she was gone.

“Why can't they all be like that?!” Jack almost shouted his question.

“Maybe we should move up here where they've had time to get used to it? The ones in Manchester are all.. fresh and selfish and confused.”

Rin pulled Jack towards her for a kiss. His tongue teased her for the briefest moment before he picked her up and carried her in his arms towards the cottage.

“What are you doing?!” she squealed.

“Dunno. Little biddie thought we’re married,” he leaned in to kiss her a few more times. He waggled his eyebrows, “Might as well act like it.”

“Jack, we just got here!”

“I've been ready since we woke up. We’ll have a shag then go out to the pub for a few pints and some fish n chips.”

“Romantic,” Rin rolled her eyes as Jack opened the door around her.

“Oh, you love me!” Jack set her down in the foyer then playfully slapped his girlfriend on the ass.

Rin jumped and bolted up the stairs before he could catch her. “I do!” she called down to him. “What's that vow? Till death do us part?” She started to strip her clothes off to her bra and panties. Her finger made a come here motion before she disappeared around a corner.

Jack's face fell, but only for the swiftest of moments. “Even then you wouldn't be gone.”

------

Rin snuck out of the bed as she so often did after they had sex. Mostly because it was the soundest Jack ever slept with his long limbs stretched out as if she wasn’t there. Or he would envelop her in his arms without a choice. And even though she understood Jack's desire to be with her constantly, sometimes Rin felt smothered.

Now she stood at the foot of the bed to watch Jack's breathing as his sternum rose and fell with a steady rhythm. He laid on his back, arm above his head in a languid position. The sheets barely draped across his hips to reveal the V shape of his pelvis and just a tuft of pubic hair. Rin’s eyes kept going until she felt her heart between her thighs and not in her chest.

“Go take a bath,” her brain scolded her. “Wash off the train and sex before you go out for dinner. You stand here any longer, you'll wake him up by straddling him.”

Rin’s body wavered. I mean, that was an idea. “BATH, ADERYN DAVIES!” At least her inner monologue didn't use her middle name.

Rin closed the door and turned on the hot water. She was lost in thought as it filled. How she and Jack developed a willingness to share their bodies with one another in the light. That she relished how their chests and mouths and skin dissipated into reciprocated emotions. Jack was addicted to it the way she could absorb him and switch places with him. Show him what it was like to be her. Empathy became his heroin.

Rin climbed into the tub and settled against the porcelain. She relaxed her mind and body until only her breasts remained afloat. She never took a bath. Not since her time in hospital when she and Jack met. Where the dead tried to drown them. But she and Jack saved each other.

Maybe because they were nearing the three year anniversary of that awful time, but Rin thought about it more these days. She held her hands above the water and ran her scarred fingers over the further damage she had done to herself. The long jagged line from her wrist to forearm. Usually she wasn't quite THAT bad off when she tried to commit suicide, and even now she couldn't remember what was her trigger that day.

“There's not even a word to describe how bloody melancholy suicides are when they come ‘round,” Jack would say. “Maybe desolate?”

“Did you ever try?”

“Not that I remember. Didn't wanna upset Emma. Always seems so messy. Guess maybe I was doing it slowly though, the way I lived. We're ok now, right?” he would ask and kiss her hand.

“We're diamonds, Jack,” she would respond, "Unbreakable.”

Now Rin knew he was in the doorway. It was hard to sneak up on her if you gave off too much emotion. Currently Jack was as warm and comforting as the water she floated about in.

“You alright?” his sleepy voice carried a trace of concern.

Rin looked up and back at him, her fingers still on her scar. “Yeah! Just thinking about us. This.”

The air shifted. A wicked grin played across Jack's face as he walked around the side of the tub. His naked body in full view. Rin’s face flushed and her heart raced, but she kept her composure on the surface as he stepped in to join her. His hands on her waist drew her into his lap. She threw her arms around his neck as they held onto each other tightly. Jack pressed his lips to Rin’s neck where he kissed a trail down over the curve of her shoulder.

“Jaacckk,” she whinged. “Come on I was sat here having a think, and you’re like a teenage boy with this!” She tried to hide a moan when he bent her back to capture her breast in his mouth. “Bless,” was her response.

“I can't help it!” he teased from between them. “I have so much lost time, and you’re so bloody sexy.”

“Will you put that thing away!” Rin’s voice was louder, but still had laughter in it. “C’mon Jack. This should be sweet and romantic. Somehow you always turn it into a porno.”

“I can't help that my,” Jack pointed his finger towards the water and whistled, “likes you. Loves you? Always wants to be in you.”

“Cock, Jack. It's called a cock. Shouldn't it be used to me by now? It's been almost a year.”

Jack stopped teasing Rin. He looked at her seriously now. Those green eyes seemed to search her soul as they moved back and forth over her face. “One year?”

“Yes.”

“I can't believe I had forgotten you all the time between..” his voice trailed off.

“It's ok,” Rin spoke softly.

Jack turned his bottom lip out, “Now I'm sad. So we should shag in this bathtub, then I won't be!”

Rin groaned for a long time after that. “No!! Sex in hot tubs or bath tubs or pools isnt the best. Water is a shite lubricant, trust.”

Jack pushed her away and feigned disgust. “Have you shagged in them before?”

“Once or twice.”

“With Roland?”

“What?! No! I told you we only had sex once. Then he left LITERALLY the next day. Why are you so weirdly jealous of him? It wasn't my first time. I've been with loads of men.”

Rin sat back again on her side of the tub. She reached for the body wash on a shelf, and started to use it on her arms and chest. Her eyebrow arched as if she was trying to challenge Jack to get angry at her sexual history.

Jack pulled his knees to his chest. “Are you hoping I get pissed that you've had sex with other guys? Of course you have, you're beautiful. Roland is just so.. Roland.”

“Fair play, but he has a gift like we do.”

“Ghosts and music. Worst super powers ever,” he mused.

Rin opened her arms and motioned Jack to settle in between them and her legs. He turned and laid down with his back completely pressed into her. She kissed his cheek then gestured for him to tilt his head back with her finger under his chin. Jack obeyed with his eyes closed.

Rin cupped water in her hand and poured it over his hair. She repeated the process a few times before he sunk down under the water. She marveled at how long his hair was when wet or straightened. At how long his arms and legs and torso were as he held on to her own knees that were drawn up around him. At how far he had come from the man drawn into himself high, on psych meds, with dirty fingernails and rough cheeks. Now he was open and present and relaxed in her arms.

“Birdie,” Jack started calling her that out of a desire to give her some kind of nickname. Love and darling and babe weren't enough.

“Jackie?” only Rin got away with that. She put some shampoo in her hand and lathered them together in front of their bodies before she dove into his hair.

“You're making me sad thinking about how poor I was when we met. You know, passing it from yourself to me without meaning.”

“What?” she was concentrating on massaging Jack's entire head. Her light fingers made circles and gentle scratches. Then they widened and she drew bigger circles. She didn't want to leave out one inch of his scalp.

“You're body, it's pressed to mine? You're passing along your thoughts without noticing because we're relaxed. But also, please keep doing that. Holy shit that feels nice.”

Rin kept on. She alternated from soft to a little harder to as much pressure as Jack allowed. He gripped her calf and ankles now wrapped around his waist. She used her thumbs to stroke his temples and rub across his forehead before going back to knead the rest of his head again.

Her attention back to reality instead of just on making sure Jack was cared for, she realized what had happened. “I'm sorry! Sorry. I can block it if you want?” She separated her body from his and unwound her legs. Jack held on.

“It's fine,” he reassured her. “Just let me mind your body too?”

Rin snickered, “You minded my body for about an hour already.”

Jack gave an annoyed smirk and rolled his eyes. “I mean like this!” he gestured towards her washing his hair.

“You can wash my hair. That would be lovely.”

“Why don't I..” he stroked his chin. Jack's eyes settled on the stuff she had spread out on the sink. “Shave your legs?”

“Blimey,” Rin whispered. “Really?” Her heart took to pounding in her ears. She eased him down into the water to rinse everything from him clean. “Jack that's very..”

“Intimate?” he was already standing to carefully choose what was her razor and shaving cream. He held them in her direction for approval.

“Actually, yes.” Rin nodded, “And yes. This is really different from shaving your face, y’know. I've got to trust you completely because that is a new blade, and I always nick a damn patch of skin.”

Jack sat back down in the water, placed the razor on the edge of the tub and lifted Rin’s ankle. He pinioned her foot to his chest and bit his entire bottom lip. She felt exposed, made vulnerable by this position. He was looking at the half of her naked body just below the water’s surface. The can of gel faltered as he shook it.

“Jack! You're shaving my legs, not my twat. Eyes on what you're doing!” Rin snapped her finger to catch his attention.

“I can do-”

“Keep speaking, and no sex for two days.”

Jack frowned but sprayed the soap on her shin. He spread it around from the ankle up to her knee before trying to go higher. Rin held up her hand, “Only strippers and sex workers shave that high!”

He snorted and continued on the back of her leg and made sure to get the back of her knee. She was especially ticklish there and jerked her body and giggled as a result. They both could be in trouble: Jack with a sharp object; Rin with the ability to kick him in the sternum if he wasn't careful.

“Better luck if you're facing away from me. You have to shave with the blades towards my knee. You best sit back against me like before.”

“Or,” Jack held the razor backwards with the head towards his wrist. His thumb on the grooved grip as he placed it delicately by Rin’s ankle. The handle was awkward in his large fingers as he took it gingerly and with the utmost of care upward. The blade made a path in the cream as he moved it up to her knee.

Rin inhaled as he did the same gesture again. She exhaled when the razor met her kneecap. Steady breathing with each swipe along her leg. The tip of Jack's tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated. He worked and focused and shifted her calf just enough to get the sides and the back. The only sound in the bathroom was the splish of water when he cleaned the blade after each path.

“Oh,” was all that left Rin’s mouth the entire time. Her eyes never left Jack's face while his own refused to break away from her leg.

“You alright?” Jack finally looked up at Rin just as he was getting a start on her other leg.

Rin shook her head with enthusiasm. Now her turn to bite her bottom lip before a giant smile crawled from ear to ear. “I'm grand! I love you.”

And just like he always did when she said that, Jack looked sheepish. Like he still couldn't believe that any.one would love him let alone a whole family of them. Rin. Emma. Billy. Jerry. They all loved him without condition.

“I love you too,” Jack smiled in kind. It reached his eyes in wrinkled skin in the corners of them. He made his way around his girlfriend’s other leg and realized something had grown inside of him. He was starting to care for himself.

So this is it, Jack thought as he finished shaving Rin’s legs, I think I love myself?

Before he could say anything the doorbell rang downstairs and scared the shit out of them both. They scrambled to their feet and started to dry off in a harried way. In the bedroom, they threw on clothes as the bell rang out again with more insistence.

“Can ghosts ring?”

“No! Not usually. BLOODY HELL WE’RE COMING!” Jack shouted as he rushed down the steps. He turned the light on in the foyer and opened the door. Rin couldn't make out anything but Jack’s shocked voice. “What the fuck are you doing here? You're two weeks early, mate.”

“She.. I should've.. Wren.. I lost my..” the words were broken up by Jack's body.

Rin made her way down and peered around Jack's shoulder. A tired, swollen eyed man stood on the front stoop. His hair was a curly mess; his goatee and mustache looked like a positive fright. She could tell he hadn't been sleeping much. It was the first time Rin had seen him alone in the last year. It was the first time Rin had seen him in PERSON in maybe seven in spite of all his promises.

“ROLAND?!”

Both he and Jack turned towards Rin and shouted simultaneously, “Surprise!”

tag @robertsheehanownsmyass @magic-multicolored-miracle @slutforrobbiebro @forenschik @super-unpredictable98 @bisexualnathanyoung @nightmonsters @rob-private @badsext @bwritesstuff @frogs--are--bitches

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

The Dare

A/N: I am so sorry I am so bad at slowburn. Also Katharine is kind of a jerk in this one. 

JACK’S POV:

“Race, truth or dare?” He considers for a moment. “Truth.”  Davey searches his brain for a good dare. “Favorite flavor of ice cream?” Everyone at the table groans. “They’re supposed to be scandalous questions, Davey!” Albert laughs. “I don’t know what to ask! Um. Are you a top or a bottom?”

“That’s more like it. And for your information, I am a switch.” He winks at his boyfriend Spot. Spot rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Jack’s turn. Jack, truth or dare?” I immediately say dare. These boys already know pretty much everything about me. I’d like to keep the few secrets I have secret.

Race glances around the room. He gets a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ask her out on a date.” He points to a girl across the room. She’s reading a book titled ‘The rise and Fall of Germany, ww1 and ww2′. It looks like it weighs as much as Spot.

“That’s Alex Kaminski. Every single guy who’s asked her on a date has been rejected. If you can get her to say yes, I’ll pay for your lunch.” I look down at my empty plate. “I already ate it.” 

“I’ll pay for your next lunch.”

Satisfied with the bet, I get up. Asking out a girl is no problem. I’m the flirting extraordinarie. I make my way over to her table and sit across from her. I put on my flirtiest smile. “Hey.” She peeks over her book. “Can I help you?” 

“Yeah. I lost my phone number, so I was hoping I could get yours.” She blinks slowly. “That was one of the worst pick up lines I have ever heard.” She closes her book. I finally get a good look at her face. She’s actually really cute. 

She has brown hair tied back in a bun. Her green eyes are bright, staring at me with an emotion I can’t quite identify. Freckles dot her nose. I half expected her to be the stereotypical nerd, braces, zits, that kind of thing. I was very wrong. 

“You’re Jack Kelly, right?” I nod my head. “How can I help you, Jack Kelly? Do you need a report written? Or a tutor to help bring up your grades?” 

“As tempting as those offers are, I’m actually here to ask you out on a date.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “A date?”

“Mhm. I’ll pick you up at eight-”

“Hold on, Romeo. I didn’t say yes.”

“Are you going to say no?”

She thinks for a moment. “Usually I would. But something about you intrigues me. Pick me up at eight. Here’s my phone number.” 

She slides a piece of paper across the table. Then she goes right back to her book. I take the hint and get up, walking back to my table. They all look at me expectantly. I place the number on the table. Race’s eyes widen. “She actually said yes? I was counting on her embarrassing you in front of everyone!”

“Thanks, Race. And she did in fact say yes. I’m picking her up at eight.”

“Don’t you guys think this is kind of mean?” Davey chimes in. 

“Aw, it’s just a date. Not like it’ll get serious or anything.”

Alex is waiting out front when I arrive. I wave. She climbs into the passenger seat. “Good afternoon, milady.” I look at the clock. “Or good night? I don’t know. Anyways, hello.” 

“Hi. So, where are we going on this date?”

“I was thinking we could grab some pizza at Jacobis.”

She nods in approval and switches on the radio. An up beat pop song comes on, and she starts to sing along. She has a good voice. I hum along under my breath. She starts swaying to the music, and I join her. Soon the two of us are full on rocking out. The song ends and we both start laughing.

We pull up to Jacobi’s and park. I hold the door for her like a gentleman. We grab a table in the corner.  A waiter comes over for our orders. “I’ll take a slice of pineapple and an orange soda, please.” Alex raises an eyebrow. “Pineapple?”

“Before you say anything, it’s delicious.” 

“I’m not judging. I was actually going to get the same thing. Make that two slices of pineapple, an orange soda, and a lemonade.”

The waiter scribbles it down and rushes off. Alex crosses her arms on the table. “So. You like pineapple too.” 

“Yup. And Race says that makes me the spawn of satan. Honestly, I take that as a compliment.” 

“Fun fact, Hawaiian pizza was actually created in Canada.”

“My whole life is a lie.” I dramatically place a hand to my forehead.

The conversation flows easily, like tomato sauce. Not the best analogy. You know what I mean though. We actually have a lot in common. We both like art, we’re both bi, and we’re both failing math. She’s actually a really nice girl. I find myself enjoying the date.

We talk for hours. I only notice how much time has passed when Jacobi’s starts to close. We’re the last people in the restaurant. We quickly pay the check and leave. I drive her home, and we talk the whole way. When we get to her house, I realize that I don’t want the date to end.

“Thanks for tonight. I had fun.” She smiles. God, her smile is beautiful.

“D-do you maybe want to do it again? A second date?”

“I’d like that.”

“So? Was she crazy? Is she a serial killer? Or is she actually a secret spy for the FBI?” Race hounds me with questions. “I bet it wasn’t that nice. She’s not even cute.” Katharine mutters. “Actually, I had a really good night with her. We’re going on a second date.” Everyone’s eyes widen. “Now you have to tell me everything!” Race squeals.

“There’s not much to tell. We got pizza at Jacobi’s and had fun. She’s kind of awesome.” I blush when I admit that. “Jack’s got a crush! I told you I was an expert matchmaker, Davey!” 

“What? You- but it was all a joke, right? You aren’t actually planning to date her, right?” I sense a tone of jealousy in her words. “I really like her.” I run a nervous hand through my hair. Davey pats me on the shoulder. “She’s a nice girl. You chose well.” Katharine scoffs under her breath. I choose to ignore it.

We all head into the cafeteria. I see Alex at her normal table, head buried in her book. I walk over and invite her to sit with us. She hesitates, but then she says yes. She takes a seat next to me at the table. The boys stare at her like with interest. She awkwardly waves.

“Everyone, this is Alex. Alex, this is. Well. Everyone.” I gesture widely around the table. They all give various greetings. “So, what are you reading?” Davey asks. She shows him the cover. “I read that a while ago! It was super interesting.” 

“Look at the two nerds bonding,” Finch chuckles. “You’re Katharine Pulitzer, right? We have english together.” Katharine pastes on a fake smile and nods.  When lunch ends, we all split up. Katharine and I head to Science together. “What’s your deal with Alex?” 

“She’s nice. I just don’t like her vibe.”

“Her vibe?”

“She’s not really your type. I don’t really get what you see in her.”

“Once you get to know her, you’ll like her as much as I do. She’s great, I promise.” 

ALEX’S POV:

I offer to pay for the movie tickets, but Jack insists on paying. We buy tickets to see a new comedy with Jack Black. We get some popcorn and candy. We have seats near the back. While we wait for the movie to start, Jack throws some popcorn and catches in his mouth.

I try but miss. He laughs and catches another piece. The two of us go back and forth, trying to see who can catch the most. By the time the trailers start, we’ve dropped almost half the popcorn. 

About halfway through the movie, Jack places his arm around my shoulders. The classic date move. I don’t mind though. I lean against him, and I see his big dopey smile. I probably have one of my own. 

Jack drives me home, and we chat the whole way. I feel like I’ve known him for ages. He walks me to my front door. We stare at each other for a moment. The air is tense, electricity zapping between us. My heart starts to beat faster. Blood rushes to my cheeks.

“Can-can I kiss you?” Jack chokes out. I don’t give him an answer. I just press my lips to his. He places a hand on my cheek. His lips are gentle, loving. When we pull away, both of us are breathing heavily. 

“Wow.” Jack whispers.

I blush and avert my eyes. 

“You’re going to take me out on a third date, right?”

ALEX’S POV:

Katharine is waiting for me outside our english class. “Hey, Kath!” She doesn’t say hi back. She ushers for me to follow her. She leads me to an empty hallway. “What’s with the secrecy?”

“I have something to tell you. And I’m only doing this because I consider you a friend.” I can see straight through her acting. She’s as fake as Regina George. “What is it?”

“I know you really like Jack. And that’s why I’m really sorry to have to tell you this. But the date he asked you out on? It was a dare. From Race.” I force a laugh. “You’re kidding right?” 

She shakes her head. “Do you have any proof?” Katharine pulls out her phone. She scrolls for a few second before handing it to me. It’s a group chat between the gang.

RACE: I still can’t believe she said yes

JACK: I told you, I’m the dare master

ALBERT: that’s a terrible name

JACK: whatever, I still won

RACE: you can’t win truth or dare

FINCH: what are you going to do for the date?

JACK: Take her out for a cheap date, say it’s not working out, win the game

RACE: there’s no winning in truth or dare dude

I fight the tears gathering in my eyes. I hand Katharine her phone back. She stares at me with fake pity. “I’m-I’m going to go.” I rush out of the room. I head to the nearest bathroom and sit in the stall. I let the tears fall. I thought he loved me. I loved him. I was just a joke. He just used me to look cool.

For once I felt loved. Like someone liked me for me. I’m the weird kid, the one people ignore and make fun of. I should have known that he didn’t actually love me. I’m the oddity. All I’m good for is a joke.

I spend the rest of the period in the bathroom. I finally run out of tears. I splash some water on my face. My reflection stares back at me. I look like a ghost. I guess I am in a way. No one really sees me. 

I walk to Jack’s science classroom. I wait outside. The bell finally wrings and people start to exit. I see Jack come out. He smiles and walks towards me. 

“Hey, hon-”

“Don’t.”

JACK’S POV:

I think I’m in love. That may sound crazy, but it’s true. I’ve only been dating Alex for a month. Best month of my life. I’ve never connected with someone like this. The whole gang likes her too. Except for Katharine. She has something against Alex, I don’t know what.

The bell finally rings. I walk outside and see Alex leaning against the wall. “Hey, hon-”

“Don’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Was I just a dare to you?” 

My face goes white. “Alex, it’s not like that! It started as a dare, but I really like you. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to mess it up-”

“You messed it up when you used me to win a fucking game, dare master. You’re a dick, Kelly. I thought someone finally saw me as something other than the school freak. I guess that’s all I am. A freak people use for their own gain.”

“Please. I love you.”

“Just stop. No more lies.” 

She turns her back and walks away. I start to run after her, but the crowd of students pushes me back. I force my way through the crowd. I run into Katharine. Before she can get a word out I ask if she’s seen Alex. 

“I haven’t. Is everything alright?”

“No. She found out about the dare. She broke up with me.” 

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care about being dare master, I care about her.” I pause. How did Alex know about the whole dare master conversation? She couldn’t have. Unless someone showed her the texts. And she has her first period with Katharine.

“You told Alex.” 

“So what if I did? She wasn’t the right girl for you. You need a girl like me.”

“You don’t get to make that decision! I loved her, and you took that away! Did you really think breaking me up with Alex would make me love you? I don’t love you, Katharine. I never will.”

Katharine tries to defend herself, but I run off. I need to find Alex. I search everywhere, but I can’t find her. Then I look out the window. She’s sitting under a tree. Her knees are pulled to her chest. Her arms are wrapped around her body like they’re the only thing holding her together.

I race outside. She looks up when she hears me coming. “What do you want?” She hisses. “To talk. Please.” She bites her lip. “Fine.” I take a seat next to her. I can see the tear stains on her shirt. My heart breaks. I did this to her. I hurt the woman I love.

“You have five minutes.” 

“Alex, it started out as a dare. And I was stupid to take it. I didn’t think about how it would affect you. And I am so, so sorry. And what I said about loving you? That wasn’t a lie. I really do love you.”

“How can I believe you?”

“You can’t. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. I understand if you never want to talk to me again. And I’ll respect that. Whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“God damn it, Jack. You make it so hard to hate you.” Alex tearfully laughs. “What you did, it hurt. I’m willing to give you a second chance because I love you. Don’t make me regret it.”

I gently hold her hand. She leans her head on my shoulder. We’re not perfect. We probably never will be. But all that matters is that we love each other. That’s more than enough.

[violetwolfraven]

2/2 Still me! That last thing, And/or Some good ol' platonic Ralbert! Honestly, I have no specific ideas but I'm also not picky! Anything where we can see our boys loving and supporting eachother in a good healthy platonic relationship is a wonderful thing if you ask me!

Platonic ralbert coming right up! Unfortunately this turned a little angsty on me but whatever. Joke’s on me for thinking I have the capability to not be a dramatic little shit and not run with the first semi-angsty idea I get, I guess.

Also I hope you don’t mind that I’m including background redfinch and sprace in here, but it’s mostly platonic ralbert. This takes place a few months before canon. I will probably write a followup redfinch thing, but you might wanna send an ask cause I’m pretty busy and I’ll probably forget lol. Anyway, enjoy. :)

...

Race knew that something was wrong when Albert plopped down on the end of his bed, staring at the bottom of his bunk above.

“Albie?”

It took a five count for Albert to look over at him, and Race was alarmed to see pain in his eyes.

Putting the book he’d borrowed from Specs (which surprisingly wasn’t boring) aside, Race scooted closer to his best friend, poking him in the side to make him sit up.

“What’s wrong?”

Albert pulled his legs up onto the bunk, sitting criss-cross applesauce, “Promise not to laugh?”

“Albie, you once caught me sneakin’ into the Lodging House at 2 AM with 6 stolen shirts and half a loaf of stale bread. You haven’t paid for your papes in a week and I know for a fact that ya ain’t told your dad where you really got that hat ya gave him for his birthday.”

Albert smirked, “I stole it from Oscar Delancey.”

“I know,” Race said, “That’s my point. We both pull a lot of shit and we both know about all the shit each other pulls. We have no ability to judge each other. So, what’s up?”

He was still hesitating, so Race sighed.

“Yes, I promise not to laugh. What is it?”

“What does it feel like when you’re with Spot?” Albert blurted.

Race was, honestly, kind of caught off guard.

“What?”

“I know ya like him,” Albert said pointedly, “Like that. I know ya have feelin’s for him. If ya didn’t, you wouldn’t be with him. I know you better than just about anyone, Race. That’s how I know how gone ya are for Conlon.”

This... wasn’t like Albert. Sure, he was known as the resident Causer of Chaos, but he was 100% serious, here. He was seriously asking about how Race felt about Spot.

This was especially weird considering... considering a while ago, Race had rejected Albert on the account that he didn’t feel that way about him. And even knowing it wouldn’t be fair to either of them if he pretended he did, it had made Race uncomfortable, knowing he’d caused his best friend pain.

Albert never asked about Spot. He knew they were a thing, kind of, but whenever they hung out, they both usually tried to pretend that romance didn’t exist, just talking about other things and daring each other to do dumb shit. That was their normal.

So why was he changing it now?

“I don’t see why that’s your business,” Race said at last, when he found his voice.

Albert groaned, “Oh, believe me. I don’t need details ‘bout... that. Just... why do ya like him? What does that part feel like?”

Race was super confused. Besides the fact that talking about this wasn’t their normal, it didn’t seem like jealousy. And yet it felt heavier than plain old gossip, too.

“Albie,” he said slowly, “What’s this about?”

Albert wouldn’t meet Race’s eyes as he took a deep breath, speaking quietly.

“I don’t know what love feels like. And you’s the only person who’s in love that I trust enough to talk ‘bout this.”

Race was now even more confused, but he focused on the part that he could understand.

“You don’t know what love feels like?”

Albert groaned, “It’s just... it’s stupid! My dad and my brothers was never real... touchy-feely... with me. I knows I care ‘bout them, even though they’s been real distant ever since I can remember, but that makes me confused, cause honestly I care ‘bout you, and Jack, and the others more. I’d die for all you’s, and I know family’s supposed to come first, but the fellas feel more like family than my real family, so... so I know how that feels.”

Race nodded, “Yeah. I get that. Just cause it ain’t the romantic type don’t mean that ain’t love, Albie.”

“But it’s different! I know ‘cause... ‘cause I remember what I felt for you.”

Race took a deep breath. The awkward tension rising right now was why they never talked about this.

“Well... yeah, it’s different. Bein’ sweet on someone ain’t like lovin’ ‘em like a sibling.”

“Yeah, but...” Albert made a frustrated sound, “There’s somethin’ else, too, and it’s like that, but different. And I don’t wanna call it love if it ain’t, but... I don’t know what it is.”

Oh. So that was why he was asking this.

God, Race was an idiot. He did miss a lot of gossip, spending his days in Brooklyn, but he would’ve thought he wouldn’t miss something as big as his best friend falling in love.

That was on him. He had a couple guesses as to who it was, but he should have been paying more attention to Albert these last couple months. He’d know for sure if he had.

“Spot’s...” he shrugged, “It’s like... I talk a lot, right?”

“Ain’t that the truth?”

“Shut up. With Spot, it’s like he gets it. Whatever I’m ramblin’ about, he knows what to say back. He can keep up with me, and sometimes, it’s like... I don’t have to ramble with him. Cause he already understands the point I’m tryin’ to make, even if I don’t understand it. And there’s somethin’ in how he don’t show his cards to anyone, but he shows ‘em to me. He drops his guard with me.”

Albert snorted, “What, so Spot Conlon ain’t actually the tough badass he pretends to be?”

“No, he’s definitely still a badass. But he’s got a soft side, too. Most outside of Brooklyn just don’t get to see it. That’s why it matters so much that I do. I can tell that he trusts me. And I can trust him, too.”

Albert stared at the floor for a couple seconds.

Then he huffed, “That don’t help at all.”

Race rolled his eyes, “Albie, ya ain’t gonna get a better explanation than that. It ain’t somethin’ that’s simple.”

Clearly, Albert had been hoping it was, but Race wasn’t sure if he could ask who it was his best friend was so messed up over, because it clearly wasn’t him anymore.

“How do ya know he loves ya back?”

Race froze, because to be honest...

He didn’t. He knew Spot cared, in his own guarded, careful way, but he wasn’t sure if it was as strong as what Race was feeling for him.

“Ya never really know,” he admitted, “Not unless he actually tells you.”

Albert took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking a bit as he did.

“I think I’m in love with Finch.”

“Oh my...” Race scoffed, “How did I not see that?”

“I didn’t let ya,” Albert pointed out, “And him and I... we ain’t... together, exactly. But we’s been gettin’ closer lately and... I think I love him, Race. I just don’t know.”

Race put his hand on his best friend’s shoulder, tugging him in for a hug that he didn’t seem to know what to do with.

“Albie, if ya think you love him, you owe it to yourself to find out for sure.”

“But ain’t that unfair to him if I don’t?”

“You said you weren’t sure if he loved ya back,” Race pointed out.

“Yeah, but...”

“Al, I know ya thought I didn’t notice, but you sulked for weeks after... what happened. You’s been happier lately, and now I’m thinkin’ that might be because of Finch. The fact that you’re more worried ‘bout you hurtin’ him than him hurtin’ you says a lot. I can’t say what you feel for sure, but for what it’s worth...”

Race squeezed him one more time, letting go, “I’m happy for you.”

Albert took another deep breath, “I’m happy for you, too.”

That meant a lot. Though Race would do what he wanted whether Albert approved or not, he definitely appreciated him saying he did.

“Seriously,” Albert said, shoving him in the shoulder, “I ain’t seen you as happy as ya are with Spot... well, ever. You never woulda found that with me. I’m happy ya did with him.”

“I don’t know if he feels the same,” Race admitted, “I mean, I know he cares, cause we’s been friends a long while, but...”

“Ya love him and you don’t know if he loves you back?”

Race nodded, “Yeah. Guess I deserve it, though, after what I did to you.”

“Hey. That was different. You made it clear you didn’t love me and refused to start anythin’ cause of that. If Spot doesn’t love ya, he’s been leadin’ ya on. Worse than that—he’s been usin’ ya.”

Race would be lying if he said that wasn’t something he worried about sometimes.

Well, he didn’t think Spot was the type to use someone like that, but...

What if this was just ‘friends with benefits’ to him? After all, it wasn’t like they’d ever actually talked about what they were. When they made out, it was all physical. They weren’t doing much talking during that. And when they did talk, it was always about other things. In front of other people, they were nothing more than friends.

Albert patted his knee, “Well, if he hurts ya, I’ll beat his ass.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“Then you’ll have to avenge me, and you stand even less of a chance than I do in a fight, and then we’ll both be dead. We can be ghosts together. We’ll haunt his ass.”

Race slapped his best friend in the arm, “Let’s go back to your problem. ‘Bout how you’re gonna get the boy.”

“But...” Albert sighed, “I barely know how I feel. How can I know what he feels?”

He was obviously stalling, but Race decided not to point that out just now. He threw an arm around his friend.

“Look. Albie. That’s a risk you’re gonna have to take. But for what it’s worth, you’s the bravest guy I know. Except maybe Jack. And Crutchie. And does Smalls count? She’s a girl, so I can’t say she’s the bravest guy, but—“

Albert shoved him, laughing, “Shut up.”

“But seriously, you’re willin’ to fight Spot Conlon for me and you’re scared of a little rejection? C’mon, Albie.”

“Oh, I will fight any kid in this city,” Albert declared, “Plenty of adults, too. Fightin’ ain’t a problem. It’s simple. Feelin’s are... messy.”

“Yeah, but you can do this, Al! You’s one of the bravest guys I know. And Finch? He’s queer, cute, and clearly cares ‘bout ya. I’ll admit I didn’t notice before, but thinkin’ back, I’d say he’s probably at least interested.”

Albert stood up, finally looking Race in the eye. He looked nervous, but ready.

“I’m gonna go get the boy.”

“Fuck yeah! Go get that boy!”

He looked like he was going to leave, then hesitated, “I should probably figure out what to say first.”

“No!” Race insisted, “You’ll just chicken out! Go! Go now, Al! Go get your boy!”

“He’s not my—“

“And he won’t be if ya don’t go get him!”

Race slapped his best friend in the butt to get him towards the door.

“Alright, I get it! God, Race! I’m goin’!”

“Well ya ain’t goin’ fast enough!”

He kept shoving until Albert was clear out the door and both of them were laughing.

“Go!” Race exclaimed one more time, shoving him away.

“Thanks so much for the one good piece of advice ya actually gave me!” Albert called sarcastically, “And Race?”

“Are you gonna go, or not?”

Albert put his hands up, “I’m goin’! Jeez! It’s just... if I’m tellin’ Finch, you should tell Spot. He’s King of Brooklyn, and... well, I even ain’t heard rumors of him bein’ with anyone else, so I don’t think you’d be as close to him as you are if he didn’t feel the same way.”

Race nodded, having no intention of actually following that advice, “Maybe. I’ll think on... does this mean we can talk ‘bout boys now?”

Albert rolled his eyes, “If this goes well, we can talk about whatever you want. If not, you’re buyin’ the booze.”

Race grinned, “Fair.”

Well, whatever way this went, it should be interesting.

[skyblue-ringpops]

Newsies in other time periods

If the Newsies characters weren’t in 1899, here’s the time periods I think they would best fit!

Jack: The Renaissance. To be more specific, probably the mid 1400s to early 1500s since that was around the time the more notable artists lived. I feel like he’d also be heavily involved in the art world, since he is an artist. He’d also have Michelangelo energy. I also feel like he’d be involved in philosophy, mainly focusing on independence and paving your own path rather than following the examples of others.

Davey: Ancient Greece. He has the scholarly vibes. He would be a philosopher as well as a writer and teacher. He would probably be heavily involved in all aspects of society, such as politics, education, philosophy, etc.. He seems like the guy that everyone would look up to and would go down in history for his knowledge and thoughts. He has Athena vibes

Katherine: I honestly don’t want to move her to a different period. She fits the times so well. However, if I have to choose, I’d pick the 1920s. She would be heavily involved in suffrage, of course. And she would still be a reporter. I don’t think she would be a flapper herself, but she would greatly admire their lifestyle and always write articles praising them.

Crutchie: America’s colonial times. I don’t know why, he just gives me colonist vibes. I feel like he’d be that kid that’s always pranking people, but nobody ever believed it was him because he’d seem innocent. Like, he’d happily agree to go to church with his parents, but would release a squirrel mid service. You know those ghost stories about colonial boys throwing stuff and making random noises just to bother people? That’s Crutchie.

Race: The 1930s. Race would probably be just like Bonnie and Clyde. He’d be a robber for sure. And he’d be good at it. However, he is dumb, and everyone knows it. So nobody thinks he’s guilty. He’s not smart enough to get away with robbery! But he is, and he’s amazing at it.

Spot: The 1960s. He just screams The Outsiders. He’s a greaser for sure. Big Dally vibes. He’s the cool kid that everyone looks up to, and they all want to be part of his “gang”. And yes, he does have a rival gang. His gang is basically the same energy as the Brooklyn newsies. 

Albert: American Revolution. He’s a kid, so he isn’t entirely sure about what’s going on. However, he is definitely anti-British, partially just to say he is. He’d get involved in everything he could, just to say he was there. He even watches the battles, which his father (who probably fights in the war) doesn’t appreciate. 

Sarah: The 1940s. She has movie star vibes for some reason. I feel like she’d be a famous actress, but humble. She wouldn’t use her money to buy fancy things...until she used it to help her family. She would live a more glamorous lifestyle later on, but family comes first.

JoJo: 1500s England. He gives Henry VIII vibes for some reason, so he was definitely alive during his rule. And he did idolize him. He loved how he just made his own rules and wanted to be like that. Well...maybe without the killing his wives part. Maybe. I do feel like JoJo would be the son of a noble and constantly pretend he’s a prince.

Les: I feel like he, like Crutchie, would be in Colonial America. He’d be like Crutchie’s partner in crime. Yes, they’d be friends. It’d be chaotic. They would always prank people together. When Crutchie grows up and stops with his mischief, everyone’s relieved...until they remember Les exists. And Les is much more chaotic, since he was trained.

Romeo: Shakespearean era. He would go see Romeo and Juliet’s debut, and he’d love it. He’d be Shakespeare’s biggest fan and see all his plays. He’d reenact them and dream of being in one. But he can’t act. He recites Shakespeare’s sonnets to every girl he meets. He dreams of being a playwright himself, but he isn’t very good at them. He also makes up his own words, names, and phrases, but they never catch on.

Smalls: Russian Revolution. Remember, she is very chaotic. So she just runs around spreading chaos. And she is very much an anarchist. She is invested in the Romanov story and wants to find and befriend Anastasia. She also idolizes Rasputin. I mean...can you blame her?

Tommy Boy: Modern. He just has modern vibes. I feel like he’d be an athlete. He has big tough guy vibes. He’d probably play football, maybe hockey. And he would be amazing at it. I don’t really know about sports though, so I won’t get into detail about it. He would also retire to be the coach of the top college team.

Mush: 1920s. He would be very involved in the culture of the time. He’d be dancing all the time and if you need him, he’s probably at the speakeasy. He’d probably become a performer as well. He just loves a good time.

Oscar Delancey: 2005. He’d be an emo. It’s true, don’t deny it. He loves MCR. He wears black eyeliner. And he is feral. He probably likes metal too. He always says he’s not like other boys and it’s not a phase. He wants to be Pete Wentz.

Morris Delancey: Salem, Massachusetts, 1692. Yep, the Salem Witch Trials. And he would be tried. He was probably accused for no reason, thought it was a joke, said something stupid during his trial, and executed. I have no idea why he gives me witch vibes, but he does.

Henry: Again, modern. He’d own a small deli. It’s a family business. He’d been working there for as long as he could remember, and knows he’ll inherit it someday. Eventually, it begins to grow in popularity. One day, it becomes a famous deli.

Specs: Early America. He feels like the type to look up to Ben Franklin. He loves his inventions and wants to be a famous inventor himself one day. He starts creating random things out of whatever he can find in his home. They’re not very good at first, but progressively get better and better. One day, he achieves his dream of becoming an inventor.

Buttons: 17th or 18th century. He’d be the son of the town’s tailor and would often help out. He ended up being an amazing tailor as well, and everyone loved his work. He liked to add his own twist to things, so many people could recognize his work at a glance.

Finch: World War II. I feel like he would fight, and he’d do it by choice. An older relative, maybe a brother or his father, would be drafted, and that would inspire him to join as well. He’s a good fighter, and he’s very passionate about the causes, but doesn’t enjoy the war and can’t wait for it to end.

Elmer: 1980s. He just gives me 80s vibes. He’d always go on little adventures with his friends and siblings and act out his favorite movies. He especially likes the ones about kids like him that lived much cooler lives. Think E.T. and Goonies. He doesn’t want to be an actor in those movies, he wants to be a character.

[prettyquickpoetry]

I got scammed out of $90 LMAOOO who wants to buy my book

[dreamonhunters]

and i can tell just what you want, you don’t want to be alone

no trigger warnings!

my half of a trade with the legendary @fakenewsies ! dylan i literally love you with all my heart and i really hope you enjoy angsty yearning new misfits redfinch because i sure do!

read it here on ao3!

The room is silent, aside from the sound of someone clicking away at a keyboard. Finch likes to work in the dark. There’s a soft turquoise glow beneath his hands, occasionally blocked out by his fingers flashing across the keys. Artificial light from his monitor acts as a primary light source. Albert always scolds him, tells him he’ll strain his eyes. End his own career before he hits twenty-one. Finch ignores him.

“Hey, asshole. It’s 2am. Go to bed,” a bleary voice mumbles from somewhere behind him. Finch lifts his head just a little, enough to indicate he heard. He doesn’t reward his visitor with any kind of verbal response. Maybe if he stays quiet, the other boy will drop it and go back to bed.

Instead, there’s a quiet sigh from behind him. Footsteps. The chair next to him is now occupied by a taller boy, ginger hair gleaming dully in the blue light. His whiskey-coloured eyes flicker over Finch’s work in vague interest, but they both know he doesn’t understand the lines of code covering the screen.

“Go to bed,” Finch murmurs, eyes flicking between his screen and Albert’s face.

The screen illuminates the high points of his face, making those sharp cheekbones seem all the more dangerous. Albert’s eyes linger for just a little too long.

“Ain’t that what I just told you to do?” he teases, although there’s no real heat in his voice. If you listen close enough, there’s maybe a note of concern.

Finch doesn’t know why Albert acts surprised. He doesn’t sleep at night. It’s the most productive time of day. That’s something he’ll maintain until the end of time and nobody could convince him otherwise. No distractions, aside from the one sitting beside him right now.

“I got work to do,” Finch answers simply, taking another sip from the can beside him. One of those ridiculous energy drinks Albert got him hooked on. If they didn’t help him work so well, he might find it within him to be annoyed. “You gonna sit there all night?”

Albert yawns, stretches his arms about above his head. Shifts in the chair. That trademark smirk curls his lips upwards. “Sure,” he answers. “Why not?”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” he tries again. He’s not really trying to get rid of Albert. Not properly. There are much more effective methods for getting people out of his workspace, and those often involve the pistol strapped to his hip. Finch doesn’t take interruptions very well.

“I do. But I don’t have anything important planned. You know how it is,” Albert supplies. Drawls a little on the word important. “So I can afford to stay up a little.”

With a heavy sigh, Finch finally turns away from his work. He doesn’t shut off the computer just yet. Keeping up the pretence Albert is actually going to leave is another thing Finch won’t address. But it’s impossible to concentrate with the boy by his side, and he knows Albert won’t let him anyway.

“Fine. Whaddya want, idiot?” Finch relents, although his tone lacks any venom.

“You,” Albert answers, simple and quiet.

They play this game every day. Albert disrupts Finch’s work, that intention is clear as day, but they don’t really talk. Albert has a million people he can go to for a quick chat, and Finch isn’t one of them. Never will be one of them. There’s a little exchange back and forth, and Finch is kissing Albert, biting him, and Albert just grins against his lips. Takes whatever he can get. The next day, it’s the same. Nothing ever happened. Just part of their daily routines, a rite of passage they can’t rid themselves of. Finch can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it.

“That’s what you always say,” he snarks back, rolling his eyes. No fun if he doesn’t put up a fight, Finch always says.

If Albert hears him, he doesn’t grace that comment with a response. Instead he changes the subject, the ghost of a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“You remember when we met?”

Of course he does. How Finch could forget is a better question. But he can’t answer too quickly, because then Albert will know he thinks about him, and that ruins the whole illusion. So the resulting silence is prolonged, while Finch pretends to mull over the finer details.

Albert’s been part of the New Misfits movement far longer than Finch — sometimes he jokes about being born into it, having no other choice in life. His father has been Head Engineer since before the boy can remember. It only makes sense for his son to follow in his footsteps, and be handed a job as soon as he’s capable of building the required tech.

Finch, however, didn’t really know about the movement until he turned eighteen. Every child in Eastgate is fed the regulated propaganda throughout their school lives, even though Finch has always been just a little suspicious of how the most impoverished city in the country was now home to the most cutting-edge technology. Something is just a little too good to be true. There’s an ulterior motive somewhere.

Nobody questions it, though. To go against Cyber Mind Corporations is essentially treason.

Some kids get lucky, though. The job of the New Misfits’ recruiters is simple — shatter the rose-tinted glasses placed over their eyes, and hit the youngest, most impressionable members of society with a large dose of reality.

Finch feels like he cut himself on the glass. To this day, he credits a certain Jack Kelly with saving his life. The young boy makes him understand, promises him something better. Cyber Mind’s need for totalitarian control leaves no room for individuality — or even free thought. It was mind control, Jack tells him, and Finch can’t find a reason to argue back. The evidence is damning.

He accepts the invitation in a heartbeat.

When he first arrives, Jack explains something about moving him into a new building. State-of-the-art, completed shortly before Finch’s arrival. He isn’t really listening, though. He doesn’t care, truthfully, so long as he has somewhere quiet to work, as promised.

Albert more or less stumbles into his life three days later.

Originally, the young technician is sent over to help fix up his office. Someone else called out sick, and Albert’s the only person available. Other excuses in that vein. As ever, he doesn’t really listen to the string of apologies and explanations. Patience is a virtue that simply evades Finch. If it were up to him, this would have been done days before.

Even despite his best efforts to ignore it, Finch is drawn to him. He’s like a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else he’s met. Bright ginger hair, eyes that sparkle when he laughs, broad shoulders. Finch wants to hate him. Wants to slap that stupid smile off his face. He also wants to know how those hands would feel wrapped around his neck, just a little too much pressure. Albert works quickly, a cheeky grin plastered across his face as he cracks the occasional joke with enthusiasm you couldn’t possibly fake. He really isn’t the type of person Finch actively seeks out, and yet it’s simply impossible to deny the connection when you first encounter your soulmate.

(If you believe in soulmates, that is. Finch doesn’t.)

That’s how Finch eventually finds himself here, curled in an oversized chair with multiple brightly-lit monitors surrounding him, and the sound of another person breathing beside him. It’s quiet, almost serene, and he likes it that way.

Gradually, hushed conversations turn into fleeting touches and stolen kisses. They both pretend like they don’t want it, they’re not interested, they don’t need it, but there’s something addictive in the way their bodies press together in a darkened room. Albert’s lips are always slightly chapped as he kisses Finch. Strong hands on his waist. Warm. Inviting. He stays up through the night just to be beside the hacker. Finch can never bring himself to make Albert leave.

Most nights, they simply lay beside each other. Albert’s arm drapes lazily over Finch’s torso, tracing nonsensical patterns across pale skin. There’s a strange intimacy in simply lying beside someone, feeling the rise and fall of their chest. The sound of his heartbeat softly thudding when Finch lays his head down on his sternum. Albert’s fingertips are just a little calloused.

Sometimes Albert takes him apart, however he damn wants, while Finch whispers his name over and over like some sacred mantra. Funny, because Finch never really saw the point in religion. The boy above him could be one, though. Those nights are few and far between, nothing more than a carnal need, and the next day it’s almost forgotten. Almost. Those events are eternally emblazoned into both boy’s memories. Dark marks on Finch’s hips and shoulders and neck serve as a more visual reminder. There are some things you just don’t forget.

More often than not, they just sleep. Pure and simple as that. Finch wakes up the following afternoon alone, but that suits him just fine. Albert has his own life. The world doesn’t revolve around Finch.

Finch wouldn’t say he’s in love. Love is too complicated for such a simple arrangement. Words like that have a tendency to ruin. He just enjoys having Albert around. Maybe that’s the answer he finds himself searching for when he rolls onto the cold side of the bed in the afternoon sunlight. Thinking too hard makes his head hurt.

On that note, he’s been thinking too long. He should answer Albert’s question.

“Yeah. I do.”

There’s a smile on Albert’s face when Finch finally refocuses. Familiar. “I’m glad.”

Finch snorts. “You’re fucking weird.”

“Just the way you like me,” he answers. Always has a quick remark resting on the tip of his tongue.

“Who said I like you?” Finch challenges, bringing his long legs up to cross them beneath him. He considers switching the monitor off. No, not yet — that would fuel Albert’s ego just a little too much.

Albert just smiles. The fondness travels right to those damn eyes, the colour of honeyed whiskey when the light hits them just right. “Call it a sixth sense,” he replies. Finch can’t decide if he wants to slap him or kiss him.

Finch settles for rolling his eyes, shifting again to get comfortable. “What made you ask that?”

“Been two years today since you got here,” Albert explains. “Thought we should celebrate.”

Two years? Had it really been that long? Finch doesn’t bother to keep track of things like that. Anniversaries are far too sentimental. They’ll ruin a perfectly good day when those events inevitably become twisted by trauma.

“Damn,” he laughs, although the small smirk twisting his lips upwards betrays him. “Didn’t think I'd last that long.”

“You shut up,” Albert groans, reaching out to swat Finch’s hand away from the keyboard. Maybe he’ll stop working. “Shut the fuck up. Such a fuckin’ attention whore.”

“Any excuse to call me a whore,” Finch answers breezily, finally leaning forward to shut off the monitor. A silent invitation. He’s grown bored of the small talk, in that way he so often does. The sudden darkness makes Finch’s breath catch in his throat.

It’s practically pitch black, aside from a few coloured lights that glow dimly, to indicate the machines surrounding them still work as they should. Not quite enough to see properly, mind. He hears shifting from beside him.

Albert’s hand comes to rest on his hip, pulling Finch closer. “C’mere,” he breathes, and Finch doesn’t resist. He lets Albert guide him into his lap, those calloused hands on his body, straddling his waist. Lips press hard against his own, and suddenly Finch can’t focus on anything but the way Albert grips his waist, how their lips slot together messily.

“Mm, Al,” he mumbles, pulling away slightly. Their foreheads rest together, and Finch’s eyes glisten with something incomprehensible in the low light.

“Yeah?” Albert whispers. His lips ghost over Finch’s again. It takes everything not to pull him back in again, kiss him with a desperate passion that burns somewhere deep within Finch. He likes keeping Albert at an arm’s length, always on his toes. Doing that would only provide him with the answers to questions Finch would never hear.

So instead he rests his head on Albert’s shoulder, face tilted slightly so he can mouth at the boy’s throat. Normally he’ll bite, sink his teeth in until he can taste the first hint of blood on his tongue. Likes the way Albert’s skin tastes. Albert groans, and Finch feels the vibrations in his throat. Feels good. Brings him back to the reality of the situation. It’s the only answer he’ll provide, because he doesn’t want to think up a verbal response.

“We should head to bed,” Albert suggests, although any sense of urgency is lacking. They’re both happy to remain here a little longer.

“Whatever you want.” Finch replies sleepily, nipping at the column of Albert’s neck. He makes no movement to leave, and Albert doesn’t seem inclined to, either.

The silence drags on a little longer, and he listens to Albert’s heartbeat. Feels the way he breathes, how his fingers instinctively trace the sharp ridges of Finch’s spine. Neither boy moves.

“Do you love me?”

That question startles Finch, although he doesn’t make it obvious. If Albert was paying enough attention, he might notice the way Finch’s breath seems to falter a little. It’s unlikely he would.

“I dunno. Love’s weird.”

It’s not the answer Albert wants, but it’s the answer he’s getting. This is not the time for soul-searching, or trying to find answers Finch isn’t sure he wants to hear. Love is complex and messy and ends in flames. He’s never seen the point in labels.

Albert hides his reaction well. Doesn’t even flinch. Honestly, it’s almost impressive.

“Is that a no, then?” he asks, and if he’s trying to cover the hurt in his voice it’s slightly less successful.

“Did I say that?” Finch responds. No, he didn’t. “I said I don’t know. Not really an easy question, is it?”

“S’ppose not.”

The silence isn’t awkward, but it’s not as comfortable as usual. Finch shifts a little, loosens his grip around Albert’s neck. He doesn’t pull away completely, because that would send all the wrong messages, but he raises his head enough to meet those irritatingly beautiful eyes.

“Are you mad?” Finch asks, after just a few moments too long. The question lacks any kind of concern, because he can work that answer out for himself.

Albert hesitates. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because you’re in love with me.”

“I never said that.”

“Love is stupid.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

Finch laughs, and pulls himself upright. Slots their lips together. It’s not love, it never has been, but it’s something close. Albert reciprocates, because he always does.

“Don’t love me,” Finch whispers. “There are better ways to waste your time.”

Albert smirks, spotting the challenge in Finch’s eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. That ego’s gettin’ too big for you.”

And just like that, the moment is gone. Albert blinks, and the weight on his lap vanishes. Finch stands right in front of him, a cocky smirk playing at his lips. Albert could kill him.

“Bedtime,” he instructs, the lilting quality of his voice akin to laughter. Finch doesn’t laugh very often. It’s the best Albert can get. “Don't want you oversleeping tomorrow.”

When Finch decides to play difficult, Albert surrenders. It’s the one battle he can’t win. So he relents, gets to his feet. Sitting in the same position for so long only rewards him with cramped muscles. Absently, he wonders how Finch copes. He stretches.

“Who’s place?” he asks. Finch doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder, already thumbing through a colourful keychain for his room key. It’s a slim plastic keycard, black with turquoise trim, the most easily distinguishable key on the whole keychain. Honestly, he’s fiddling with the keys to waste time.

“Mine’s closer.” Finch says. Albert doesn’t say anything, just follows close behind. Part of him wants to put his hands on Finch’s hips and draw the boy back, nipping at the nape of his neck. Biting. See what sounds he can draw from him.

But he doesn’t. He lets Finch walk away, and for a few moments he just stands there. Watches. That boy is a force to be reckoned with, in more ways than one. Albert loves that.

“You just gonna stand there?” he challenges, glancing over his shoulder to smirk at Albert with a cocky glint in his eyes. He’s got the upper hand now, and he knows it. That’s the thing with them. It’s like a constant power struggle, although nobody ever truly puts up a fight. Maybe it’s more like an involuntary exchange of power.

Albert just smiles back at him, no teeth, and lets Finch lead him into the darkened corridor. Most people would be asleep by now. Normal people would be asleep by now. In fact, they’re probably the only people still awake in this area of the complex. It’s nice.

Finch’s apartment is close to his office, located just round the corner towards the right wing of the building. Their hands brush against each other every so often as they walk, shoulders bumping together playfully. Albert doesn’t talk, and Finch has nothing to respond to. The silence is comfortable.

“Hey,” Albert murmurs, as Finch slides the card into the reader. It buzzes softly, and the lock clicks open.

Finch hums his acknowledgement, hitting a switch by the door as he enters and letting the bright, artificial lights sting his eyes. Takes a moment to adjust. It’s a small apartment, really — every member’s quarters were designed to accommodate their every living need, and little more than that. He’s not a man of material things, though, and minimalism suits him just fine.

Albert lets the door close behind them, automatic lock sliding into place. Listens to the little click. He didn’t expect a verbal answer, really. So he continues, “Are you happy here?”

“Loaded question,” Finch murmurs, keys clattering onto plastic as he passes a side table. Dark eyes are now fixating entirely on the neon cityscape visible through the obnoxiously large windows dominating the outer wall of his apartment. He won’t look at Albert. “Define ‘happy’.”

“Okay.” Albert smirks, leaning against the nearest wall. He observes the way Finch’s eyes flicker from building to building, taking in the lights. Eastgate always looks prettier by night. “Fulfilled, I guess. Like you’re doin’ something useful.”

Finch seems to consider those words, then nods slowly. His eyes never leave the window. He misses the stars, bleached out by the brightness of the city below. “It’s pretty obvious we’re doing something useful. Isn’t this whole thing about freeing people?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the whole point, but you’re…” he trails off, searches for the right words. “...difficult to read.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Finch mutters, but he does. Vulnerability is a weakness. So he builds his walls high and answers everything with the same set of generic responses, and it keeps people off his back. They can think what they like of him, truthfully, because Finch doesn’t care. Opinions get you shot.

Albert lets out a soft sigh, resignation colouring the sound. If Finch doesn’t want to talk, he won’t. There’s no way around that. “We should sleep,” he suggests, completely changing tack.

Finch doesn’t respond until a pair of arms wrap around his middle, the weight on his shoulder familiar as Albert rests his head there. It’s almost enough to tear his eyes away from the world outside. He leans into that familiar touch, exhales slowly. Albert’s chest is warm against his back.

“Do you trust me?” Albert asks.

In another time, maybe trust is a substitute for love. Finch isn’t too sure. There’s a strange feeling in his chest, a dull ache but a bright warmth at the same time. It’s only ever present when Albert is there, but Finch could never tell him. He doesn’t admit to things like that, not when there’s no good reason to.

“Almost.”

It’ll do, for now. It’s been two years, and still Finch hasn’t let his guard down entirely. He’s not sure why Albert’s surprised.

“Alright.”

And then the moment is gone, and Finch changes the topic with practised ease. “Come to bed,” he murmurs, hand slipping easily into Albert’s. It’s almost unfair how well their hands fit together. He wishes he didn’t like it so much.

He lets the smaller boy lead him to the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he does so. Finch does the same, and when Albert turns around there’s a pair of lips pressing hard against his own. Thinly veiled desperation. Hands fall to grip his waist, and Finch’s arms loop around Albert’s shoulders.

When they break apart, Finch’s eyes are shiny and his lips are swollen. “I don’t love you, y’know,” he whispers, and Albert drops his head to nip at the column of his neck.

“I know,” Albert breathes, hot breath ghosting against his skin. “I don’t care.”

A soft, short laugh escapes Finch, and he lets Albert push him down onto the bed. He can taste skin between his teeth, the slight saltiness of sweat. Strong arms tangle around his slim waist, teeth painting dark stains across pale flesh. Albert holds him tight, the way he always does, and Finch feels a strange sense of completion.

It’s not long after that he falls asleep, head resting on Albert’s chest and one of the boy’s strong arms wrapped tight around his waist. The gentle thud of a heartbeat, the sound of somebody breathing, the occasional rustling of movement in his sleep.

Strangely intimate.

When Finch wakes up, the afternoon sunlight is streaming through the cracks beneath his door. He never closed the blinds. With a yawn, he rolls over, onto the cold side of the bed. He’s alone again.

[starship-squidlet]

Albert and Race’s Haunted House Adventure

Prompt: Person A and Person B both claim to not believe in ghosts so their friends dare them to spend a night in a haunted house together. After only 2 hours, they both come running out of the house terrified. When their friends laugh at them, they both try to pull the whole “Oh I wasn’t scared, I only left because *the other person* was scared” excuse.

Fandom: Newsies

Characters: Jack, Race, Henry, Albert, Finch, Romeo

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,641

Tags: @the-cowbi (feel better soon!!!)

.*.*.*.*.*.

“I am not scared.”

Jack Kelly shook his head and walked away from the discussion.

“You are scared!” Henry’s voice was incredulous. “Both of you are. I don’t believe it.”

“We are not,” Race said firmly, crossing his arms and glowering at Henry, Romeo, and Finch, who were staring him and Albert down. “It’s just a house.”

“Just a house,” Albert mimicked Race’s position, chin raised and arms crossed, his feet shoulder-width apart—the very image of defiance.

“Oh yeah?” Finch leaned forward, practically leering at them. “If it’s just a house, then you two won’t be afraid to go up and ring the doorbell.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Seriously? Ring the doorbell? What are we, seven?” Albert scoffed.

“It’s not like anyone will answer; the place has been abandoned for years,” Romeo leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms and ankles. “Well, no-one… alive anyways.”

Race shook his head. “That’s stupid. We’re not afraid to ring a dumb doorbell.”

“No?” Finch arched an eyebrow. “Then go do it.”

Race paused, glancing out the window. “Right now?”

“Sure,” Finch shrugged. “Why not?”

“Well… it’s almost dark,” Race said. “I wouldn’t want to…”

He trailed off as Finch, Romeo, and Henry dissolved into laughter. Even Jack, spectating from the other side of the room, chuckled.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Albert took a step forward, getting up into Finch’s face. “We’re not scared. And not like we need to prove it or anything, but if you really want us to, we will.”

“Yeah, we’ll go ring the stupid doorbell,” Race grumbled.

“Even in the dark?” Romeo teased.

“Even in the dark,” Race shot back.

“Too late,” Finch shook his head, grinning at Albert, who had yet to back down.

“Whaddaya mean?” Race asked warily.

“The dare isn’t just ringing the doorbell any more,” Finch turned to him, still grinning wickedly. “Now, the dare is to spend the entire night in the haunted house on the hill.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

An hour and a half later, Jack found himself at the foot of the hill upon which the highly debated “haunted” house was seated. “This is stupid,” he grumbled.

“Yes, and?” Romeo sighed.

“You’re surprised that we’re doing something stupid?” Henry laughed. “Have you met us?”

“You know, Finch, this really seems like a disproportionate escalation of the original dare,” Albert mumbled, staring at the iron gate spanning the winding drive that led up the hill to the house, barely visible for the trees surrounding it. It was a cloudy night, and near the new moon, so there was almost no natural light, and the streetlights had ended a few blocks back. A chill, fierce wind whipped through the trees, rustling leaves and making the branches creak. If there was any night suited for adventures in a haunted house, this was it.

Finch shrugged. “Hey, you didn’t take the easy road when it was offered. It’s not my problem if you don’t like the hard road.”

Albert faded into indecipherable mumbling, glaring at the heavy iron gate.

“Well…” Race sighed, “I guess we’d better get this over with.” He pulled—hard—on the gate, and it opened slowly with an ear-splitting screech, the rusted hinges protesting the movement. The bottom of the gate scraped across the asphalt of the driveway. The sounds set their teeth on edge, and shivers down their spines. Once the gate was open about two feet, Race slipped through. “Youse comin’?”

Albert slipped through the gate after Race, and both stopped to look back at the others.

“Hey, the dare isn’t for us,” Finch copied Albert’s position from earlier: arms crossed, feet spread, chin raised. “You’re the only ones who have to spend the night in the house. We’ll be waiting here for you in the morning.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Race protested.

“Yeah, what are ya, scared?” Albert’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s not our dare,” Romeo laughed.

“Have fun,” Henry teased, giving them a little wave.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” Albert spat. He spun on his heel and started walking up towards the house; Race was a beat slower, and Albert grabbed him by the arm and hauled him along as he stalked up towards the first bend in the drive.

“Are we seriously going to wait here all night?” Jack groaned once the other two were out of sight.

“Theoretically,” Romeo yawned.

“And why exactly do I have to be here?” Jack asked.

“Neutral party,” Henry shrugged.

“You weren’t involved in the original dare, and you have no stake in this whole thing,” Finch explained. “That makes you a neutral party. Uh… a supervisor, if you will.”

“This is stupid,” Jack grumbled.

.*.*.*.*.*.

They had arrived at the bottom of the hill at 9:47 in the evening. Jack and the others at the bottom had gotten bored pretty quickly; they cycled through games of hacky sack, trying to climb the ten-foot stone wall around the bottom of the hill, and racing up and down the empty street. By 11 PM, they were bored out of their skulls.

When 11:30 rolled around, it found Jack, Romeo, and Henry sitting on the ground with their backs to the stone wall. Finch was the last one standing, bouncing the hacky sack on his own, from foot, to knee, to elbow, to shoulder, to head, and back down. It was actually fairly impressive. Jack yawned.

The closer it got to midnight, the quieter they all became. Bets had been made as to how long Albert and Race would last in the house. Romeo had already lost, having guessed that the two wouldn’t even make it up to the drive. Henry’s deadline of 10:30 had come and gone. Finch’s bet had given them until midnight. Jack—only participating in the pool for lack of anything better to do—was the only one who seemed to have any faith in Albert and Race making it in the house until morning. Admittedly, his idea of morning in this case was 3 AM, but it was generous, especially compared to the others’ bets.

Romeo checked his phone. “11:50. It’s getting close, Finch. Down to you and Jack… Who will be the winner?”

Jack shook his head. He drew his knees up to his chest, folded his arms over them, and laid his head down.

Finch got bored with the hacky sack and joined them on the ground. “I’m not actually sure who got the worse end of this deal—them for having to be in that creepy house all night, or us for having to spend it out here.”

Romeo shivered and pulled his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie. “You don’t actually think it’s haunted, do you?”

Finch scoffed. “Of course not. But it sure is sketchy. And on a night like tonight, things can seem… fuzzy. Especially if you believe in ghosts and stuff, like those two nerds.”

They heard Albert and Race before they saw them. In the stillness of the night—the wind having died down to a gentle breeze by 11—their voices carried through the trees.

“It’s not my fault,” said Albert, his voice bitter.

“Well, it’s not mine,” said Race.

“Then whose is it?”

Race’s reply was unintelligible. The four boys at the base of the hill traded knowing glances and grins, jumped to their feet, and hurried to the iron gate, still open from when Race and Albert had entered.

“Hey there!” Romeo called, still grinning wickedly, as Race and Albert rounded the nearest bend in the driveway.

Both boys froze, staring at them like a pair of deer in headlights.

“What, did it get too scary for you?” Henry leered.

“No!” Albert shot back. “I wasn’t scared. Race was starting to get freaked out, though, so we decided to come back!”

“I was scared?” Race’s voice shot up an octave. “I was fine. You were the one who screamed like a little girl when the wind blew the shutters against the wall!”

“Well, at least I didn’t jump out of my skin and grab your arm so hard that I nearly broke it when that bat flew down the stairs!”

“At least I didn’t think that the broken chair was an animal!”

“At least I didn’t think the bearskin rug was alive!”

Their back and forth continued the rest of the way down the hill. The other boys were laughing by the time Albert and Race joined them, both pale-faced and fuming.

Finch checked his phone. “Midnight exactly. Looks like I win. Pay up, boys.”

“You took bets?” Albert’s voice was low and hoarse.

“You bet on our fear?” Race scowled.

“Yep,” Finch laughed, accepting his winnings from Henry and Romeo. “Hey, be glad that I’m the one who won—Romeo didn’t even think you’d make it to the house. He doesn’t believe in you at all.”

“Jack’s the only one who did,” Romeo said with a shrug. “He thought you could make it until at least 3 AM.”

Albert and Race squeezed through the gate one at a time, then Race pulled it closed behind them. They all winced as the screeching and scraping sounded out again, even louder for the stillness of the night.

Once the gate was shut, they started walking home.

“Is there a reason we didn’t drive here?” Albert groaned.

“What, is it too spooky out here to walk back?” Romeo teased.

“Shut up,” Albert aimed a punch at Romeo’s arm, but the smaller boy dodged it deftly, jogging ahead of them. Albert followed, and the two danced down the street, trading mock blows as they slipped in and out of the beams of the streetlights.

Finch and Henry walked side by side on the sidewalk, Jack and Race trailing along behind them. “So, how was it?” Jack asked, nudging Race with his elbow.

“It really was pretty spooky,” Race said. “Also, apparently I’m afraid of bats…”

[nerdsies]

Seasonal Newsies: Autumn

part 4/4

Jack and Davey go on walks a lot, especially in Central Park. They hold hands and steal kisses when no one is looking. It’s disgustingly cute

Race does spot-on turkey impressions to make the littles laugh

Jack shows the littles how to make turkey paintings with their handprints

The Jacobs family has everyone (yes, everyone) over for Thanksgiving

Romeo and Mush steal Jack’s paints and use them to put inspirational quotes on leaves

Buttons sells tiny pillows embroidered with fall-themed things like leaves and cornucopias

Smalls wears sweaters two sizes too big

Albert wears turtleneck shirts with cardigans and walks down the middle of the road with one of Race’s cigars between his lips like he’s James Dean

Race doesn’t even mind

Finch tells everyone ghost stories once it’s dark and the fog rolls in

Everyone is SO EXCITED for Hallowe’en. Costumes. Decorations. Tricks. Treats. Scary stories. Jack ‘o’ lanterns. The lodgehouse is the most decked-out place in New York that night, and kids of all ages and social ranks visit for sweets, friendly pranks, and the nicest people they’ve ever met

Graves spends even more time in the graveyard than usual. Something about the crisp, chilly air, and the eerie fog rolling in, sets the perfect mood for some lurking. At least, he calls it lurking. But when Spot followed him one day to see what he actually does, he found Graves sitting in front of his parents’ headstones, telling them about how life was going in Brooklyn

“Yeah, and Hotshot - you remember Hotshot, he’s the one who stole my shoes my first day? - he’s actually warming up to me, I think. I mean, he doesn’t really talk to me, but yesterday he gave me the rest of his dinner even though I know he was still hungry. So...yeah. Oh, and Spot, he… I dunno. Don’t laugh, okay, Ma? But I think he actually likes having me around. Like, okay, so this morning, God, you would’ve loved this morning, Pa. The wind was racing but it wasn’t loud, and I remember how you used to stand right in the middle of the road with your arms out and let the wind hit you, remember that, Pa? You always said it was like a bird. Ha, actually, I know a guy named Finch now. You’d’ve liked Finch, I think. He’s got this slingshot that I stole once...oh, sorry, I’m rambling. Hotshot says I do that a lot. Remind you of anyone, Ma? Haha. Anyway, so this morning, I went with Spot to sell some papes - that’s what we call the newspapers - and when I wandered off to help this uptown kid tie his shoe, Spot started calling my name ‘cause he didn’t know where I was. Oh, ha, you’ll never believe what them Brooklyn boys call me. Can you guess? They call me Graves. As in...y’know. ‘Cause I spend so much time here. At least I used to. It’s been awhile since I came by, I know. Sorry. I just got busy. Bad excuse, I know, but...I did tell you guys I wouldn’t be able to visit as much in Summer. It’s too hot to be outside and the boys will see me sneakin’ outta the house. They really do care about me, I think. But...it’s still weird. I’m still new, even though it’s almost been a year. God, a year. That was a year ago, huh? I...damn, I miss you guys. Don’t tell the Brooklyn boys I was here, okay? I’d never hear the end of it...alright, I gotta go, I don’t wanna fall asleep here again. Good thing no one saw me the first few times. I’ll be back soon, I promise. I miss you, and… I love you.”

Spot cried

click here for winter ❄️

click here for spring 🌸

click here for summer ☀️

[poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow]

Newsies as Shane Madej quotes

Jack: Hey there, demons, it’s me, ya boi.

Race: Goatman, I’m dancing on your bridge - it’s my bridge now! You hear that?

Elmer: I’m gonna lock myself in here with a ghost.

Albert: I don’t wanna be a ghost hunter. This is all bullshit!

Spot: Hey, look, steal from the rich. Do it.

Crutchie: I felt nothing down there. To be fair, I feel nothing everywhere we go.

Katherine: Two years ago today, I married my best friend. Sara is still mad about it, but me and Ryan were drunk and thought it was really funny.

Blink: I murdered people for you! And now what?

Specs: I did meet some of the most insufferable people. But, they also met me.

Finch: We’re here for the cult stuff.

Davey: Don’t believe in ghosts, believe in yourself.

[i-got-personality]

Absolutely believes in ghosts: Elmer, Buttons, Jack, Race, Romeo, Smalls

Doesn’t really believe in ghosts but is slightly scared of the idea of them anyway: Crutchie, JoJo, Finch, Mush, Sniper

Absolutely doesn’t believe in ghosts: Albert, Davey, Specs, Spot, Katherine, Blink