#newsies drabbles

[moo9395]

Guess who watched Newsies.

[youaintnothinbuta]

maybe like bsfs w jack and theres a lot of sexual tension and you end up getting in an argument (kind of the like scene w him and katherine) and they end up getting freakyyy

Sorry it took so long for me to respond to this!! I always find writing smut to be difficult, so I hope this isn’t too much of a hard read <3

“Do it, Jack, I fucking dare you” — jack kelly x reader

Summary: you and Jack are arguing, which gets heated and you end up fucking

Pairing: Jack Kelly x fem!reader

Word count: 1595

Warnings: angsty, argument, threatening each other, physical violence (kinda), SMUT, 18+, unprotected sex, mature language

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Jack stood in his bedroom, both frustrated at the other, having an argument that’d carried on for hours.

Your voice echoed through the room, laced with frustration, “That's your problem, Jack – you never listen to anyone, ever!”

He started to retort, “Oh, I do not think you are one to talk abo—“

“Talk about what? What, Jack? Talk about what?” you interrupted him.

Jack, visibly irritated, shot back, “You won't even let me finish!”

“Ohhh, so now you're starting to understand how that feels, huh?” you replied, challenging him with a glare.

“If you weren't a girl, god, I'd just strangle you to death,” he threatened, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“Oh, would you? Do it. Go on!” you arked up to him, your defiance unyielding.

“I ain't gonna lay my hands on a g—“

“Do it, Jack, I fucking dare you,” you interrupted him again, the tension reaching its peak.

In a sudden, unexpected motion, his hand reached out to you. Fingers wrapped around your neck, just below your jawbone, and with a firm yet surprisingly gentle touch, he pulled your face towards his. The room fell into a momentary hush as the two of you locked eyes. Time seemed to stretch as the intensity of the confrontation shifted, taking an unexpected turn. Your stomach flipped as he pulled you towards him.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both strong and desperate. The sudden intimacy caught you off guard, and you gasped – half in shock, half in relief. The room, once heavy with confrontation, now held an air of uncertainty as the lines between argument and intimacy blurred.

He broke the kiss, his fingers loosened their grip on you, but never quite released it.

“I don’t wanna argue anymore.” He admitted.

Your throat bobbed up and down against his hand as you swallowed, “me neither.”

He removed his hand from your neck and instead moved it to find your waist, gently pulling you into him for another kiss. His body was warm, even through his shirt, you could feel the heat coursing through him. You leaned into his kiss, his hands moving along your back, yours roaming his chest.

Your back arched against his hand, making him chuckle as he pulled away to breathe. Teasing you, he mumbled, “you want something, baby?”

“Mmh.” You moaned in answer, as his hands grazed over your ass. He loved this, watching your face contort as you anticipated what was coming, watching your body grow desperate for him. As his hands wandered back up to your waist, pulling you closer to him, you could feel each one of his movements sending shivers down your spine. The sensation of his body against yours was tantalising. Needing more, your hands found their way to his bare skin, finding his heartbeat under the fabric of his shirt.

“Excited?” You teased, feeling his heart racing.

He pulled your hand out of his shirt and down to his crotch, leaving your hand over the bulge that was pressing against his pants, “what do you think?”

You let out a small gasp, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at him, watching his face as you ran your hand over him. He reached under your dress, desperately trying to get his fingers in contact with you. Pressing his thumb against your clit, you moved closer to him.

“So wet for me, hm?” He remarked, dragging his thumb backwards until it dipped into your hole.

“Off, baby.” Jack mumbled against your neck, tugging on your underwear. You did as he told you to, you watched as he pulled his shirt off, followed by every other item of clothing that masked his body. He watched you undress, stroking his cock softly in one hand as your clothes fell into a heap at your feet.

He moved towards you, his hands gripping and squeezing your ass cheeks as his lips gently made contact with your nipple.

You let out a little moan as he sucked your nipples, his hands still squeezing your ass. He moved his hand between your legs and began to rub your clit with his thumb. You spread your legs further apart, giving him better access to you.

“Turn around,” he instructed you, guiding you with his hands on your waist. “That's a girl, now, on the bed for me baby,” he continued, following close behind you as you crawled onto his bed, on your knees.

He brought his face down to your ass, using his hands to pull your knees further apart. He began to lick your pussy, his tongue darting in and out of you and along your lips. You let out a relieved moan as he pushed his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it.

The taste of you coated his tongue, then his throat, driving him wild. It took him every ounce of strength not to just tear you to shreds and fuck the daylight out of you.

More than ready, his cock bounced softly with the throbbing of his arousal. He lined his cock up with your pussy, and slowly slid himself into you. You felt yourself stretching around him, his hands gently massaging your hips and back, trying to help ease the inital pain of insertion.

Once he was fully inside you, he pulled out almost completely before pushing back in again. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asked. “Yes, Jack, fuck,” you replied, and he consequently picked up the pace.

As he steadied himself into a good rhythm, you began to utter small whines. “That's it, baby, let me hear you.” He encouraged.

His hands explored every inch of skin they could reach, before the pads of his fingers settled over your clit, and he began rubbing circles as he fucked you. Deeper every time, his balls slapped your clit with each thrust. Your body began to drift nearer and nearer to the bed, unable to hold yourself up with the same strength as you were moved closer to orgasm.

Jack, too, had shifted from heavy breathing to desperate moans, and you knew that was a sign he wasn't going to last for too much longer. Feeling your body move away from his, he leant his chest over your back, pushing you all the way down, flat onto your stomach. His hand, caught between your body and the mattress, was pressed hard against your clit, sending your head back against his shoulder. “You like that, huh?” Jack panted, still thrusting into you, his face burying in the crook of your neck. A layer of sweat began to form on his chest and your back, making his skin stick to yours.

You didn't reply, your moans only becoming more desperate and messy. The pleasure was building, and you couldn't take it anymore. You began to shake beneath him, it was almost too much, your moans sounding more like cries. Jack was so close, losing the rhythm he'd found, was just now trying to get himself in and out of you as quickly and as deeply as he could. “Come for me, darling, l got you, come for me now.” He panted, his voice rousing you.

With a sudden cry, your back arched up into his chest, your pussy clenching around his cock as you came, a string of pleasured moans filling the room, you felt his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed against your shoulder, “that's it, oh, big one, baby, keep coming,” he spoke as he found some strength, lifting his chest off of you as he buried one hard, deep thrust into you, letting all his cum spill out into you.

You buried your face into the pillow, trying to conceal the sounds of you riding out the end of your high, all while Jack finished himself off with a few more thrusts, groaning as he did so. When he was done, he slowly pulled his body out of yours, leaving you feeling momentarily empty.

You rolled over, facing him, your hands slowly moving up his chest to wrap around his neck. He was breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his skin as he looked down at you with a smile.

“You feeling okay?” He asked, still panting.

“Yeah,” you nodded, Jack chuckling as your body convulsed underneath him.

“What a beautiful sight, what a beautiful girl you are.” He smiled.

He laid beside you, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you into his side. You snuggled into his chest, feeling his heartbeat thumping against your ear.

Jack softly traced circles on your back as you lay in the warm afterglow. The room was filled with the calming sounds of your slowed breaths and the occasional noises from the bustle of the city outside. The weight of his arm around you provided a sense of security, and you reveled in the closeness.

“You’re perfect,” Jack whispered, his voice carrying a tender affection. His fingers continued their soothing pattern on your skin.

You tilted your head to look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He chuckled, a low, comforting sound that resonated through both of you.

He chuckled, a low, comforting sound that resonated through both of you. “You know,” he began, “we can do this more often. Just us, no rush.”

You nodded in agreement. “I’d like that.”

Jack pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. As you lay together, you couldn’t even remember the reason why you were arguing in the first place.

[loiteringandlurking]

Javey go stargazing on top of a building, the feelings are big and raw and decidedly there. Davey compares jack to the stars and jack doesn't know how to respond. Jacks emotions are so big he doesn't know how to express it with words, so he expresses it with touches. Lying down shoulder to shoulder with Davey, sitting them both up just so he can gently trace his knuckles over the perfect curves and corners of davey's face. The reflection of the galaxy in his eyes, the breeze tossing pollen and dust over his features.

Jack doesn't know how to deflect, as he does with so many things, the way Davey's eyes fill with absolute love when he looks at jack. He's never seen this much love come out of one person, directed at him. The city can't see them up on top of this building, the newsies aren't here to laugh and jeer and make fun of jack when he fits himself into Davey's shadow sometimes.

And he might only get this chance once.

He kisses Davey like it's the last time he'll ever see him, like when the sun begins to rise, Davey will dissolve into the morning air.

Davey kisses back, smiling like he's meeting an old friend.

On that night they feel complete. So fully, truly complete.

[i-didnt-do-1t]

David didn’t want his first visit to the lodging house to be this, anything but this would’ve been better.

He attempted to readjust the way JoJo’s arm hung across his shoulders, fingers digging in in a grip that matched the wince on his face with every limped half step.

Les forged on ahead of them in some kind of attempt to clear the way, and people moved for the dirt-stained kid with tear tracked cheeks and an arm held to his chest, spattered with blood; his own or someone else’s David wasn’t sure yet and as much as he wanted to grab Les and give him a once over for any injuries aside from the obvious, JoJo who’d gotten a club to the knee and then the head once he went down took priority.

JoJo was also spattered with blood, but it was obvious it was his own, leaking from his newly crooked nose-

He lurched to the side suddenly, and David did his best to keep him upright but he was tired and his head was spinning and something in his chest was sending shooting pains along his ribs when he breathed too deep and staying upright was hard-

“Sorry Dave.” JoJo’s voice was slurred like he was drunk and Davey realised he didn’t even know what age he was. Not old enough to get drunk, not even close, 14 at most surely, not the youngest but younger and-

“It’s fine. We’re almost back, just a couple more steps.”

“Y’seen Splasher?”

“Don’t worry about him right now. We’re almost back.”

“That copper got him real good Dave. I don’think I seen him get up.”

David swallowed bile, clung to JoJo’s waist a little harder.

He hadn’t seen Splasher get up either.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” He said out loud.

[chimeofthecomet]

(i think ill close this now for the time being but i’ll be back!!)

lots of time on my hands now with exams done, any mutuals want to do an art trade? i’ve never done one before but it sounds fun

[heliads]

'from you i'd buy anything ' - jack kelly x crutchie morris

Jack Kelly is thinking about leaving. Crutchie is thinking about staying. Neither of them like that very much.

a/n: who was expecting me to briefly come back from exam hiatus with a jackcrutchie drabble? not me for sure

masterlist

Imagine, for a moment, that there is a boy on a fire escape, and he is listening to his best friend talk about leaving, and that boy is you. And your best friend is your best friend. And he matters more than anything.

Imagine that you have lived your entire recorded life in one city in one country in one world selling newspapers. Your birth was announced in a newspaper, probably, a newspaper that was sold by a newsboy quite like you in many ways but vastly different in the ones that matter, and when you die, your obituary will be placed in a newspaper sold by a different newsboy who is, again, both similar and dissimilar to you, a newsboy whose birth announcement you sold in a newspaper. You will sell the paper announcing the death of the boy who sold the news of your birth, and you will sell the paper announcing the birth of the boy who will sell your death. And so the chain goes on. You will sell many papers of many boys, and you will not even know it, or maybe you will. It does not matter if you read the newspaper. It only matters that you sell it.

Imagine that you have been selling newspapers with your best friend. He is your best friend because you sell newspapers with him, or perhaps in spite of it. You love him completely; you adore him like a devotee gazing upon a god. If you were one of the well-suited men writing up the articles that get to be in print, you would put your best friend in the newspaper. Not because he was born or died, but because he lived, and he lived extraordinarily.

Imagine that your best friend is telling you how much he cannot wait to leave this place, the only place that both of you have ever known. He could do it, you know. Leave. He would be good at it like he is good at every other thing except staying. Although you are his best friend, there is nothing you could say to make him stick around, so instead of saying anything, you listen. You do not like what you are hearing, although you pretend otherwise.

Imagine that your best friend could have left town a thousand times before now, but he waited for this early morning, this stolen breath before dawn, so that he could tell you he was going and judge your face to see how you would take the news. Imagine that he has already spent hours and days and weeks coming up with every possible argument you could make to keep him in New York City, Gotham, the City That Never Sleeps, so that you would think him clever, and laugh, maybe, and want him here. Imagine that he does not know that you already think him clever. Imagine that he thinks he has to prove it somehow, as if years of friendship and ill-concealed longing were not enough to cement that belief in your mind already. It is printed on your brain with permanent ink. Like in a newspaper.

Imagine that you are on the fire escape and listening to your best friend talk, and imagining what will happen one day when you wake up and are alone. You have been lonely before, but this would be worse. He would be fine at it, you think, your best friend. He is good at making friends. Even best friends. You think about them now, someone taking your place in sunny Santa Fe, where the city is not gray and lifeless, where the children do not starve in the streets. It does not matter if your replacement is a girl or boy, if Jack Kelly loves them as much as he loves you, they are not you and therefore they are an enemy.

Imagine that your best friend does not want to swap you out for anybody. You are the crucial part in his plans, the piece that completes the puzzle, but he does not know how to say it and you do not know how to say it, either, so it goes unsaid completely. The bell rings and the two of you hurry to the place where they give you the newspapers that you will sell together, and neither of you get rid of the words hanging leaden on the tips of your tongues. Tomorrow, he will repeat this conversation, and it will go the same way. Imagine that you might know what to do tomorrow. You won’t, but there is no loss in trying. Imagine that it might work out in the end. Imagining is easier. It always is.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[pigeonwit]

matches (drabble)

“Jaaaack…” Davey whines, swatting at Jack’s knee like a cat. “Could you-?”

“Aw, Davey,” Jack rolls his eyes dramatically. “Ya gonna make me light a candle for you every time?”

Davey makes one of his soft little sighs and looks at him through his downy lashes, blue eyes wide and gentle.

“Please?”

Jack glares and snatches the candle from Davey’s hand.

“You aren’t subtle.” He mutters; Davey only smiles innocently, the little shit.

(Jack loves him.)

“Don’t get why ya can’t just do this yourself.” Jack says, purely for the sake of saying it, because bickering with Davey on a lazy afternoon has quickly become Jack’s idea of heaven.

“Because I hate phosphorus smell and like papyrus-and-sage smell.”

“Oh, papyrus-and-sage,” Jack pitches his voice down pompously. “Books, Davey. You like book smell.”

Davey wrinkles his nose at him in a play-glare from where he’s splayed out on the couch, looking like a dream come true in a too-big hoodie – Jack’s hoodie, the little thief – and a pair of Re-Animator shorts that have ‘Blasphemy? Before what God?’ written on the ass in neon green.

“It’s different and you know it.”

“Of course, your royal pretentiousness.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Davey huffs, pretend-haughty, tipping his nose into the air so high that it cranes his neck back.

“Tell ya what, next time you need a candle, I’ll throw some Italian seasoning on a newspaper and burn it for ya, see if you can tell the difference.”

“Oh, har har,” Davey scoffs. He has his cheek propped lazily on the back of his hand, regarding Jack with slow, syrupy fondness, like he could watch him forever. Jack only smiles and grabs the matchbox strewn out on their side-table, leaning down a little further to press a kiss into Davey’s hair with an obnoxious little mwah, just to make him smile.

(Jack loves him.)

“Seriously, though.” He says as he fumbles with the matches. “Am I just your match-guy now? What’re ya gonna do if you need a candle and I ain’t here?”

Davey shrugs.

“Use a lighter, probably.”

“Wh-!” He says it just as Jack’s striking the match over the strip, and he whips around so quickly that it flies right out of his hands.

“Careful!” Davey forces his voice up high – that means ‘pretend scared’, Jack notes with pride, because when Davey’s actually scared, he doesn’t make noise at all (their friends may call Davey the smartass, but Jack has come to realize that he is absolutely the overachieving little teacher’s pet in their relationship).

“You little-!” Jack laughs incredulously as Davey giggles. “Then what’s the point in me lighting ‘em?”

“’Cause.” Davey says, smiling impishly as Jack lights another match and watches the wood bend under the flame. “You like watching matches burn.”

Jack jolts and forces his gaze away from the little pink flame.

“Wh- I do not-!”

“And,” Davey says pointedly. “I like arguing with you about matches.”

Jack freezes as he points the match head down onto the candlewick. Watches as the flame spreads from one to the other, a gentle transfer of warmth, and the wax begins to soften and pearl at the edges.

He scoffs, the noise shaky in his throat, and places Davey’s candle on the coffee table, right in the middle where Davey likes it.

“You’re a li’l weirdo, y’know that?”

Davey tangles a hand in Jack’s collar and presses a lazy kiss to his lips.

“You love me.”

(Jack really, really does.)

[we-are-inevitable]

send in a word/phrase and i'll write a drabble that includes it!

i really want to work on the fic for the bang but i've written 500 words today and need a brain break. send in some requests and i'll write it!

[sky-neverending]

newsies drabble!!

Spot squinted as light poured into the window of his place in Brooklyn. It was nighttime, why was it bright?

He sat up in his bed, blankets falling to the floor.  A thud came from the window. 

"Who is it?" he growled, pulling himself forcefully into consciousness. "I ain't afraid of ya"

A familiar laugh rang out. "It's just me, Spotty. No need to freak out."

Groaning, Spot rolled his eyes. "Race? What are ya doin' here?"

Racetrack's smile was enough to light up the whole room. Hell, maybe all of New York. 

"Well, this," he said, kissing Spot suddenly. 

[frogmanfae]

*slips and drops this* oh- whoops!

"It's you and me, always and forever, right?"

Jack had a firm grip on Davey's hand as he asked the question. It wasn't easy, their relationship. Davey wasn't ready to tell anyone, which was fine with Jack, but it took a lot more work to stay secret than it would to just date openly.

"Right..." David agreed, but his voice was weak and his eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing, "unless..."

Jack raised an eyebrow and he made it a point to look into Davey's eyes, no matter how difficult it was, "unless...?"

"Well..." David looked down. He never had been good at eye contact, even under normal circumstances, "I dunno..."

"Sweetheart," Jack moved his fingers to lift David's chin ever so gently, "Sweetheart look at me, will ya?" David's eyes fluttered up, but didn't meet Jack's gaze, instead fixing on his nose. Jack figured it was best not to test his luck, so he took it, but he did make note of the starting stages of tears he saw. "Talk to me..."

"It's stupid-"

"It ain't stupid!" Jack's voice remained soft in the way he was so good at, but it had a new edge to it. Firm, almost. Maybe urgent. Davey couldn't tell. "Hey, what did we talk about, huh? I wanna hear what's going on in that brain of yours." He moved his hand from David's chin to tap on his forehead like he would somehow reach Davey's thoughts by doing so. It didn't give Jack access to his brain, but it did make Davey smile, just a little, so Jack still considered it a win. "What's it tellin you?"

David sighed, looking away again. "It's just... I mean always is a long time... I'm..." He tensed his jaw, the way he does when he's trying to say something but can't figure out how to say it without conveying a certain message, Jack had noticed. After a minute, he decided on, "you'll get bored eventually."

Jack's brain stopped working for a second, then began turning a million gears all at once. There were so many thoughts running through his head that he couldn't grasp on to anything but the solid feeling of confusion.

"Bored?" he finally stammered out. "Bored?" Jack shook his head, as if that would help him understand the situation. It didn't. "Davey, Darlin' what are you... You think I'd get bored? Of what? Of you?"

"I... Jack I'm just-"

"Nuh uh." Jack held up his hand, "I'm sorry, you know I don't usually mean to interrupt you but... Davey, baby, I just... I can't even wrap my head around how I could ever be bored with you! I don't- I seriously don't... I don't see a... a possible way. I mean..." He shook his head and blinked for a long time, "I really don't see anythin that could... That could lead to... I mean... Gah!"

"Jack, one day, you'll meet someone who... Who will excite you in ways I never could. They'll go horseback riding with you and... and they'll start fights with the Delanceys and... they'll be able to show you off to the world... like you deserve..."

Jack smiles, almost a happy one. "Davey, Sweetheart..." he reaches to cup David's cheeks in his palms and softly wipe away his tears with his thumbs, "I don't care about any of that. I want you. You hear? You're my partner, my fella, my bookworm, my smarty pants, my Boopsie-" that one got a little giggle out of Davey, just what Jack had been aiming for. Jack's smile got a little bit wider, a little bit happier at the sound.

"Gross, never call me that again." Davey swatted at Jack's hands and turned to lean on Jack's chest. He didn't let go of his fingers.

"Ohhh but it made you smile!" Jack swayed (by extension swaying Davey on his chest, only making him laugh more). "I was gonna keep goin you know, till ya caved. They were just gonna keep gettin more n more ridiculous."

"More ridiculous than Boopsie?"

"I think you're underestimatin' me. I had Schnookums, Stud Muffin, Casanova, Dream Machine-"

"Dream Machine?"

"Yeah, you know, 'cuz I's a dreamer n' all n' lately you've been runnin' all my dreams-"

"God, you are such a sap," Davey sniffed away his remaining tears as he focused on twisting around Jack's fingers. If all else failed, that would always work to calm him down.

"Hey, Dream Machine."

Davey snorted. "Yeah?"

"I want you to remember somethin' for me, alright? I think you can do it, considerin' you're also my Bookworm and Smarty Pants."

He rolled his eyes, but Jack noticed his smile only got bigger, even just a little bit. "What might that be, Sheriff?"

"Sheriff?" Jack raised an eyebrow with an amused smile.

"Yeah, Sheriff. Or are you the only one who can make dumb nicknames?"

"I like it." He moved his hand to squeeze Davey's. The firm pressure always seemed to reassure David that Jack was meaning what he was saying, and Jack really needed him to know that he meant what he was about to say.

David took a deep breath. Not because he was nervous, it was more so because he was exhausted. Emotionally, anyhow. Jack knew it would be a while before he spoke again. It didn't take Jack long to figure out that for someone who always seemed to have the right words, sharing them took a lot out of David, and there were times where he just had to be quiet. That was okay with Jack. He knew David was still listening to his every word, even if he wouldn't respond to them.

"I'd rather be bored with you than excited with anyone else."

Davey turned to look at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. It almost seemed like he was going to cry again, but he just pressed his lips together into a soft smile and squeezed Jack's hand tight. Now, Jack would never claim to be the smartest guy around, especially not in the presence of Davey, but it didn't take much for him to understand what that meant.

[jack-kellys]

spot's outfit from the graduation drabble i wrote. if you even care

[mushiimune]

8 javid?

8. "Wanna bet?"

–––

“Jack, you’re supposed to adjust your vest in the back.”

“Huh? Whaddya talking about?” Jack craned his neck as if he could somehow get a better look at his back, easily tucking his papes under one arm. “I did. I do. Every morning.”

“Wanna bet?” David rolled his eyes. 

He’d made a point of trying not to think about what exactly Jack did in the morning, and not just because it wasn’t any of his business. There was something profoundly earthly about picturing his friend tiredly climbing out of bed and going through the same motions as everybody else upon first waking up that for some reason made David’s pulse quicken.

David shook his head and shoved his papers against Jack’s chest, grabbing his arm to turn him around. 

“Stand still,” said David, realizing his mistake too late. If there was one way to get Jack Kelly to do something, it was by telling him not to do it.

As if in retaliation to David’s command, Jack could not stop fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot. For once he didn’t mean to make things harder for David on purpose, but he just couldn’t see the harm in wearing ill-fitting clothes, nor the merit in straightening himself to excess, especially in their line of work. Looking neat and orderly wasn’t going to help him sell more papes. In fact, it was liable to do the opposite, and David ought to have known that, after everything Jack had taught him.

“Hurry up, wouldja?” Jack muttered. “You’re stalling on purpose. Dawdling, procrastinating, dilly-dallying…”

David huffed, which sounded more like a laugh than a noise of indignation. “Dilly-dallying?”

“The old man says I’m a professional at it.”

“He’s not wrong,” David mumbled. He’d finished fumbling with the buckle, hands hovering over the strap on Jack’s back longer than was admittedly necessary. “There. You’re welcome.”

Jack turned around, brandishing a toothy smile. He handed back David’s papes. 

“Thanks, Dave. I’d offer to return the favor, but you always look perfect.”

David shook his head. “You’re not fooling me with that one.”

“I ain’t fooling at all,” said Jack. He bumped his shoulder to David’s as he passed by him. “I’m serious. Nothin’ to fix. So all I can say is thanks.”

David opened his mouth, then closed it. He sheepishly followed after Jack, who’d already started calling out an improved version of that morning’s headline once again. Jack was good at that – making things sound better or worse than they actually were…

[youaintnothinbuta]

only if you feel like it - pt 2 jack kelly boyfriend headcanons??? i love your writing, have a great day! :)

— jack kelly boyfriend hcs pt. 2 —

ೃ⁀➷ summary: just a bunch of cute boyfriendy hcs about jacky !

pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

warnings: maybe the tiniestttt little sexual innuendo but fluff!!

A/N: please feel free to request a specific trope of hcs!!

• You are miss “I can do it myself” and he is mr “I know you can but let me.”

• He is a true switch when it comes to cuddling, he loves being the little spoon as much as being the big spoon, and he secretly really appreciates it when you tell him he doesn’t have to be the protector all the time

• Did someone say loyal?? Jack would lie, steal, break, cheat, anything for you

• The boys are alwaysss teasing him about how you have him wrapped around your little pinky finger, and he knows it, but he wouldn’t want it any other way

• During his morning paper round, he’ll pick any wildflowers growing on the sides of the streets, bringing them all back to you as soon as he’s done

• There’s this one older lady who isn’t always around to buy a paper from Jack, but when she is, she gives him a quarter or two to go buy himself some extra food. Instead, whenever she does this, he heads to the bakery to buy you a special treat

• Jack will always always makes sure you’re fed, warm, and comfortable

• He helps you hawk papes if you’re struggling (after all, he really is the best at it)

• He gets so moody and short tempered if he hasn’t gotten to see you or have alone time with you in a while, all the newsies poke fun at him for it

• Even though you’ve been together for so long, he still sometimes will get super shy and embarrassed around you because you’re just the prettiest most perfect thing he’s ever laid eyes on

• During winter when there’s no flowers growing, or when money’s been particularly tight, he’ll draw for you. He draws bouquets or portraits of you, but your favourites are the ones he draws of both of you together.

• In summer when it’s warm during the nights you sleep in his shirts and a pair of panties, partly because it’s warm but mostly because it drives him crazy ;)

• Jack is much more intelligent than he lets on, especially around the other boys, but he’s a really good good reader, and you love when he reads to you. Your supply of books was limited though, so often you two would instead come up with your own story, going back and forth between you to add a line

• One time, some of the youngest newsies were complaining about being bored, and you offered to teach them to play knuckles. Jack didn’t realise you also knew how to play, and ever since it’s become one of your favourite games to play together

• He is filled with so much pride looking at you. He lovesss walking down busy streets, by others your age especially, showing you off

[loiteringandlurking]

'jack, you, uh.... you got something.' jack's eyebrows draw together as davey points to jack's face with his fork.

'something o' what?' jack wipes his hand across his cheek. 'soot? dirt?' davey only giggles behind his hand, which is criminal.

'nah, lemme get it.' davey smiles his horrid smile and reaches across their table. his hand cups jack's cheek as davey swipes his thumb across the corner of jack's mouth, and jack has half a mind to lean over the table and kiss davey then and there as he watches davey's eyebrows knit. he feels davey's thumb on his face, harder this time, dragging out the corner of his lip, and jack swats his hand away.

'davey, what on earth?' jack tries not to smile a cheek-hurtingly amount as davey checks his thumb, his eyes drawing back to that corner of jack's mouth.

davey doesn't say anything (god save the man) and instead leans over their table and their food (his tie almost dragging through their meals) until his face is inches from jacks. jack feels his entire face turn red as Davey thouroughly searches his face, one thumb leaning up to the corner of his mouth again. davey scratches the corner of jack's mouth with his fingernail, and jack yelps. 'ow! dave, what the hell?' he brings his hand up to where davey scratched, the stinging sensation already subsiding.

'you have food on your face!' davey finally says, plopping back down onto his chair. 'there's a little crumb st the corner of your mouth! i don't have my glasses, so I was so proud of myself for noticing it, but it didn't come off! it's stuck to your face, jack! the crumb is fusing with you!'

jack searches davey's incredulous expression for any notes of sarcasm or jokes as he grins.

'davey,' he says carefully, surpressing laughter. 'is it a freckle?'

[lili-loves-whump]

lili-loves-whump presents, a 'whump: the musical!' snippet,

Newsies

first previous next

The bar is behind them, and their sweater is inside. Whumpee is in nothing but a white long sleeved tee. Still, with their arms wrapped around their middle, they walk.

They walk away from Caretaker's house. They need time to process before returning. They know they will eventually- they just pray Caretaker isn't tailing them, or working themselves into an anxious frenzy like they sometimes do.

They pass a park. A pair of old women, bundled to their nose, sit on benches and watch the snow silently.

Whumpee walks past with their head down, scrunching up their eyes when the pair snicker at them.

The playground is cold and looks mostly frozen over but still, Whumpee clambers up the slide, cold plastic biting into their palm.

Their boots stomp on the metal as they thud to the top, ducking under the metal beam quickly.

Their head is cold, and they pull their beanie down further, trying to get it to stretch over their forehead. It doesn't work very well, but still, they try.

The women have moved.

Whumpee does a slow spin, hands facing the sky as they close their eyes and turn like a ballerina.

Someone is laughing.

Their eyes snap open, arms crossed, and Whumpee scowls, brushing an icy piece of hair out of their eyes. Their hands shake, even through the gloves, and they feel cold, even through the cloud of alcohol and the beginning f a high they've finally hit.

The world seems brighter, more colourful. They smile despite themselves, and the girl below them sniggers harder.

Her hair is pulled out of her eyes and she is in a knitted turtleneck that is obviously very warm. The edges of thermals poke out from her pants, and her feet are bundled in leg warmers.

"Who are you," Whumpee hisses, and the girl raises her hands in surrender.

There is a red strip in the bangs of her dark hair. She is in a wheelchair.

"I'm Natia."

"Natia?" Whumpee pronounce slowly, climbing back down the slide.

Natia watches them, nodding, then shaking her head. "Like Nasha but spicier." She gestures to herself with a smile.

Whumpee notices the coat that is in her hands. She isn't wearing it. They raise an eyebrow.

Natia shrugs. "You look cold," she says in explanation.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

[i-didnt-do-1t]

“Davey? You alright?”

David’s gaze, glazed and unblinking, jumped from the ground to meet Jack’s own vaguely bemused one and he nodded, mouth curling up a little at the edges.

It was comfortable, this quiet between them. Gave Davey time to think while Jack sketched.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” The question hung in the air between them for a few seconds and he looked away before Jack could answer, went back to spinning a pencil between two fingers, nails bitten down to their beds.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” he continues, “and I don’t know what it is and I don’t mind. But other people seem to.”