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miryum · 1 year

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You know I love you (Spot Conlon x Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts forever

Warnings: Not proof-read, a sentence about a fist-fight, bruising

Remy tugged on your skirt. “Hey- Hey Y/n?” His voice was quiet and nervous.

“Yeah, bud?” Something was off in the usually lively and energetic boy. You scooped him up, bringing him to eye level.

Remy looked down, avoiding your gaze. “Could I please have one of your apples?”

“Of course,” you walked over to the small kitchen in the Brooklyn boarding house and picked an apple off of the counter. “Why? Did you spend all your money on toys again?”

“Um, no.” Remy said, “I lost it.”

“You lost your money?” You frowned. Every newsboy bag had a special pouch for coins, its sole purpose being not to lose the pennies and nickels. “Where’s your bag?”

“I lost that too,” Remy mumbled.

With those words, you immediately knew that he was lying. The first thing a newsboy learns is to not lose his bag. It holds his papers and earned money- the most important things in a newsboy's life. What didn’t help your suspicion was that every younger boy was paired with an older, tougher, more experienced one. You made sure of that early on, pestering Spot until he relented (to be truthful, Spot had caved easily). Someone should’ve been watching Remy.

“Who was with you?” You asked him. “Was it Patches?” Remy nodded and you gave a nod back. “Okay, you stay here and eat your apple. I gotta go talk to Patches really quickly.”

“Okay!” Remy looked happier now that he was out of your scrutiny and concern.

You scanned the room, seeing Patches stretched out on a couch, listening to Cal read a book. You weaved through the boys, hopping over legs and stepping over arms. You loved your newsie family and you would do anything for them. The scene of everyone relaxing after a long day warmed your heart. You knew that these boys would do anything for you and each other.

You sat down on Patches’s legs, making him groan and kick your side. “I come in peace,” you said.

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “What’s up?”

“You sold with Remy today, right?” He nodded in confirmation. You continued, “did you see him lose his bag?”

“He lost his bag?” Patches sat up, now invested in the conversation. “He told me that he gave it to Crackers for safekeeping.”

“Crackers was selling on Clermont Street,” you said slowly. “Weren’t you guys selling by Hicks and Clark?”

Patches nodded, watching the concern on your face grow. “When did he tell you this?” You felt like you were interrogating the poor boy, but at the same time, you needed to know what happened.

“I know Remy had his bag at four thirty. I remember him coming up to me and telling me about a guy who paid him double. I didn’t see him again until five.”

“I’m going to try and get him to tell me the truth,” you stated. “Thanks Patches.”

“Anytime.”

You went back to the kitchen, finding Remy sitting on the counter, eating the apple to the core. But, before you could make it to the small child, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Knowing there was only one boy who would dare do that, you relaxed into your boyfriend.

“Hey, Spotty,” you said quietly.

“Hey, doll,” Spot replied softly. “How was your day?”

“You were with me for most of it,” you pointed out, referencing how Spot only let you sell with him.

“Yeah, but I got pulled away at the end.” Indeed, Fisher had needed Spot’s help with something before the selling day had ended, leaving you alone to pawn off the last few of your papers.

“It was alright,” you turned in his arms, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “But I’m a bit worried for Remy.”

“Why? What happened?” Spot’s brows furrowed, getting that telltale expression that meant he was stepping back into his King of Brooklyn role.

“That’s the thing; I don’t know.” You explained, “Remy said he lost his selling bag, but Patches said Remy told him he gave it to Crackers for safekeeping. But I know Remy. The kid would never lose or give away his bag. You know how protective he is over it.”

“Cause he carries his teddy bear in it.” Spot nodded, ending your thoughts.

“Exactly.”

“So what do you think happened?” Spot asked you.

You sighed and began speaking, “a little while ago, Lemon came to me saying how a group of older thugs had stolen her bag. I had her sell with Slugger for a bit, and the problem went away. Do you think that the same thugs could’ve stolen Remy’s bag?”

Spot hummed, “you’ve certainly got a memory about you, doll. It’s definitely not a bad idea. I’ll go talk to Lemon and Slugger about it and you talk to Remy?”

“Deal,” you agreed.

“Pleasure doing business with you, doll.” Spot smirked and pressed a kiss to your lips before sauntering off to find Lemon and Slugger.

You chuckled before turning back to Remy and handing the kid another apple. “You’re hungry,” you commented.

“Yeah…” Remy looked shyly away.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “We all pitch in to buy this food.” After a moment, you quietly said, “I know you didn’t lose your bag, Remy. What really happened?”

Remy didn’t meet your eye, giving a small shrug.

“Was it some boys?” You asked, “did they steal it from you? Like they did Lemon?”

Remy chewed on his lip, turning the apple over in his small hands. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “They cornered me and called me small and weak.” His fingers clenched into fists. “Then they stole my bag. It’s happened four times.”

“Four times?” You knelt down so you could meet his eye. “Remy, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because they said I couldn’t fight my own fight. I’d be proving them right if I told you,” Remy mumbled.

You sighed, feeling terrible and squeezed the boy into a tight hug. “Remy,” You whispered. “Don’t be afraid to tell me anything. Especially if people are bullying you.”

“But what if they come back?” Remy wondered, “What if they do this again?” He lifted his shirt slightly to show you a large, ugly bruise. Immediately, a rage boiled in your chest and your jaw clenched. “They did that?” You growled.

Remy nodded slowly, frightened by your change in demeanour.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down in front of the scared child. “It’s gonna be okay,” you told him. “We’re gonna get your money back from those boys and make them pay.”

“Really? But how?”

You smiled stiffly, trying to disguise your hatred for the punks by a thinly veiled grin. “Don’t worry about that,” you said. “All you have to do is keep on selling.”

Remy’s head bobbed up and down happily. “Thank you so much, Y/n!” He hugged you tightly and you reciprocated the action. He then pulled away, his problem suddenly fixed and out of mind as only a six- year old could.

Heart still burning with hatred for the thugs that messed with Remy, you knew it was now time to call upon the people who would stand by you no matter what- your newsies.

Remy cried out in his squeaky voice, “Read all about the car crash that killed dozens! Police are convinced it was murder!”

“Hello, squirt,” a deep voice laughed from behind Remy. “Sell any papers today?”

Remy gulped loudly and slowly turned around, gripping his bag tighter. “Wha-what do you guys want?”

“I think you know what we want,” the lead man growled, stepping up along with his group of ten or fifteen boys.

“I-I’m not giving you my money!” Remy stomped his foot.

“Oh really?” The leader laughed loudly. “What are you gonna do? Fight us?” The rest of the boys chuckled along with their leader.

“Well, no,” Remy admitted. “But this time, I have friends.” You stepped out from around a corner.

The goons glanced around at one another before bursting out in short, loud, ugly guffaws. “I’m sorry?” The leader snickered out, “A girl is gonna beat us up?”

“I’m going to ignore your misogynistic comment, even though you probably don’t know what that word means, and even though I could kick your ass, just to scare you into never coming near Remy again, I brought my boyfriend. You may know him as the King of Brooklyn?”

Spot, along with his cavalry of newsies appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Spot snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you close. “Where you messin’ with my doll?” He asked, knowing whichever way they answered, he was gonna soak either way.

“You looking for a fight?” The leader bit back.

Spot shrugged, smirking. “Maybe. But I’ll let you off if you don’t come near my newsies again.”

One of the cronies grabbed the leader and whispered something harsh to him. The leader scoffed, but said, “Fine. We won’t bother your pathetic newsies again.”

“And my girl?” Spot’s thumb drew circles on your waist.

“Never said anything about her,” the leader smiled tauntingly.

You glanced at Spot to see the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Don’t,” you whisper to him.

“Doll,” Spot drawled, swinging a look down at you, grinning brilliantly. “I have to.” And with that, Spot stepped forward and punched the leader across the jaw. The newsies cheered and rushed forward, intent on standing up for one of their own. The bullies quickly ran away after a few hits. You took Spot’s hand in yours and thumbed the split knuckles. Before you could chide him however, Spot simply said, “You know I love you.”

“Yeah,” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “I do.”

#spot conlon #spot conlon imagine #spot conlon oneshot #spot #spot conlon x reader #Newsies #newsboys #newsie #newsies musical #new york #brooklyn #brooklyn boys #brooklyn’s hereeeee #oc male characters #fluff #angst #fist fight #kinda

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estelior · 7 months

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Intimacy of shaving each other

There is gonna be a little series about shaving, Brooklyn - War - Wakanda. And here is the 1st one!

#stucky #stevebucky #my art #steve rogers #bucky barnes #otp: till the end of the line #steve and bucky #brooklyn boys #pre-war!stucky

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 11 months

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January 13, 1976 - Kiss and Destroyer producer Bob Ezrin were in the studio with the Brooklyn Boys Choir to record tracks for "Great Expectations."

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hey-op-just-kill-me · 1 year

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Hotshot: so turns out your brother is gay, I just saw him making out with my brother in the kitchen

Jack:

Hotshot: apparently he’s gay too

#newsies #broadway #newsies live #newsies musical #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #hotshot newsies #brooklyn boys #newsies text post #text posts #sprace

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we-are-brooklyn-newsies · 7 days

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MORE LOVE!

all im saying, is there is not enough people talking about mush and myron from the broadway musical. like, idgaf if mush barely has any lines, and idc if the only time we get to see myron is in brooklyns here and in the background of the speech in meddas theater, show more love to my boys dude. fr.

#livesies #newsies #mush meyers #brooklyn boys #give some love to finch too #myron

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dharmasharks · 2 years

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And you, you must’ve been looking for me

Post-canon Brooklyn boys, wistful wandering, and knowing the way back. [Teen & up | 0.7K]

Wee ficlet below the cut for @stuckybingo | square N1: Napping | October challenge: Fog + Coffee.

It’s not the first night Bucky spends this way. Feet to pavement, one step and the next, breathe in, breathe out. Until darkened brownstones fall behind the expressway, until the neighborhood flattens at the East River. Breathe in, breathe out, until he’s gotten himself lost enough for the shapeless panic to stop vibrating inside his chest.

Tonight though, under a thick fog, all that newness falls behind a veil. The twelve-hundred dollar strollers chained to U-shaped bike racks. The cat cafe he loves and the deli he doesn’t. The sprawling Greenway, where some shitty little kid swiped his bocce ball mid-turn. The paper recycling plant, which is not a paper recycling plant.

(“Coming Soon,” Steve read from a broad sign at the construction site, “Urban Industrial Chic Coworking Loft Space.”

“What,” Bucky said, “the fuck.”)

Even the changed angles of lower Manhattan fade across the river, leaving him all alone in the past with the same cobblestones under his footsteps. The cables of Brooklyn Bridge suspended above the sky. Breathe in, breathe out that same low-tide smell where the old bones of the old pier 1 jut out from the mist.

He can’t seem to settle like this. Surrounded by ghosts.

So it’s one step and the next until he’s past the mums on their stoop that he forgot to water, up and up into their third floor walk-up. Their prewar apartment, but not their prewar apartment. Not from before. That’s just what you call it now instead of calling it old.

(When the realtor’s back was turned, Steve had grandly swept one hand down his body. “All this historic charm in one place,” he said. Because he is a historic dork.)

Bucky opens their door as quietly as he can, which is not very, because it jams in the frame without a sharp yank. It doesn’t matter; Steve’s up anyway with the Sunday Times strewn across the couch.

It is a ridiculous couch. High-backed and deep-set and too big for the room. In crushed velvet, midnight blue. Dark enough to show every strand of white cat hair, with a long enough chaise for even Steve to stretch his long damn legs, like he’s doing now.

Steve loves this ridiculous couch. Which meant Bucky had to practically sit on him until he bought it. It wasn’t that it was too impractical or nice or expensive, though it is all those things. It’s just that it’s hard for Steve to let himself have things like that. Things that’d make him happy.

Steve’s working on that.

Even now, his smile is fragile but hopeful. And he looks so tired, but not of Bucky’s laundry list of bullshit. He never is. And it never gets easier to believe. And Bucky is working on that.

He stumbles out of his boots and drops his tightly-would body onto the cushions, his head to Steve’s lap.

“Mmf,” he groans. An apology. An admission of defeat.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, sliding his hand across the small of Bucky’s back. Radiating a heat that melts as it spreads. Bucky turns his face into Steve’s body, nudges his shirt up, and presses lips and nose to the soft skin of his belly. Resting there.

With Steve’s hand in his hair, combing from roots to ends, Bucky finds the edge of that slow drop. Not the sharp fall that visits him plenty, but the kind of sleep you float into. The way a feather falls from a great height.

Breathe in, breathe out the newsprint on Steve’s fingertips, the drip coffee brewing on the counter. The nights into mornings at the diner in their old neighborhood—in this neighborhood, before they got old. Back when Bucky could still name all the restless fears buzzing under his skin, but it was okay, he was okay, because Steve would wait up with him.

God, this man. He would wait forever, he has waited forever. He will keep waiting forever. That certainty: it is a long, long thread tied and knotted around Bucky’s ribs. The gentle pull that keeps calling him home.

#Brooklyn boys #nostalgia #possibly too much nostalgia #post canon #by which I mean the happy ending that exists in our fandom hive mind #stucky fic #ficlet #stucky #stucky bingo #my fic

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justakidfromfandom · 2 years

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This has probably been said before, but I just realized something while rewatching Captain America The First Avenger: The last thing Bucky Barnes did before he died was protect Steve Rogers, the first thing Bucky Barnes did after coming back to himself in catws was protect Steve Rogers. In other words, the first thing Bucky Barnes did when coming back to himself was the last thing he did before losing himself. It also means that Bucky died trying to save Steve and ended up saving himself by successfully saving Steve, he finished the job he didn’t get to last time.

It also means that Bucky saving Steve can work as a metaphor for Bucky saving himself. This would be in keeping with their friendship since both Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan have said on multiple occasions that they are each other’s family, they’re the closest relationship they have in the world, they are the key to their home and happiness, and, as Bucky proved, they are the only ones who can save and reach the other. This interpretation would make the shot of Bucky’s arm reaching out for Steve in the ocean another metaphor.

#I will always have alot of feelings about the relationship between steve & bucky #just as I will always have alot of feelings about what was done to Bucky in between the two times he tried to protect his best pal & brother #at least the way I interpret the relationship (platonic vs romantic) but the core of their relationship will always remain the same #whether interpreted as platonic or romantic #the core being that the above remains the same and both will go to the ends of the earth to protect the other #but what do you do when you would go to the ends of the earth to protect the other but they’re not there on earth #they’re tucked away underground in cryofreeze until they are needed to assassinate ppl against their will consent & conscious knowledge #… i still have alot to say about bucky barnes and steve rogers #as you might’ve been able to tell #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve & bucky #captain america #captain america meta #catws #catfa #captain america the winter soldier #captain america first avenger #captain america the first avenger #brooklyn boys #marvel #mcu #marvel meta #my post

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thesheepsheadraces · 1 year

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Hotshot with Uksies! I don’t remember when I did this but I did

Hotshot struck the match, but it wouldn’t catch. He swore lightly under his breath.

He should be out on the fire escape. Spot told him he shouldn’t leave the lodge alone at night. That’s what happened to Myron after all. The cold docks could be a dangerous place, but Hotshot could hold his own. The sun hadn’t even started to rise, and he didn’t know what time it was.

The reason he wasn’t on the fire escape was because he was scared of heights, but that was something he would never admit to anyone. It was his weakness that made him weak. He hated feeling weak, so he pushed it down in him and kept it next to the anger left from his family. He was scared it would burst out on someone it had Spot punched her; she had to stop him from killing a kid. Hotshot couldn’t remember why just the rage that resonated in his bones made him never admit the pain he was in.

Among other things, he was wrong. But he wouldn’t say that to anyone other than Spot; he trusted her with his life.

The Match caught, he sighed in relief. The cigarette relaxed him, and realising his body was tense, he took a drag before leaning against the wall. All the feelings went away the second he took a deep breath.

He scratched his chin. I need to shave my beard in his mind. He was big and solid; most people mistook him for a man, a dock worker. He took another drag from his cigarette, the cool night air biting his skin as the spinet song of New York sung.

He was still in a night shirt; he would have slept shirtless, but general decency stopped him when he heard the door open. It was Splints. The light flooded onto the cold dock.

"Hey Shot," I wave and nod; she smiles

"Got a smoke?" I hold the half-empty box; she takes a stem, placing the cigarette between her teeth.

She pulls out a fancy lighter they got together for her 16th birthday.

She rubbed her eyes. She looked tired, like years of sleep had been dragged out of her.

"Why you up?" She questioned

She chuckled, taking a drag.

"I couldn’t sleep with bad dreams," she sighed; "even in their deaths, I couldn’t escape them."

I shrug and say, "Sorry about your nightmares."

She shrugged, "Why are you up?"

"I don’t know." ——-

should I make this a thing?

or scrap it?

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winterspiderpurrs · 2 years

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Okay but Imagine when May funds out that Peter is dating Bucky or Steve and she isn't even bothered. Even is expecting it a little.

And when asked why she basicly goes.

" Everyone in this family has married someone from Brooklyn. Seems like it's bound to happen, we love them Brooklyn boys."

And that's..... that.

#writing prompt #peter parker #bucky barnes #peter parker x steve rogers #winterspider #peter parker x bucky barnes #spidershield #shieldspider #spiderman #winterspiderpurrs #brooklyn boys

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cinnamoncascadian · 4 months

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Bucky in that rainbow shirt

Posted with @lokewolf82's permission from:

https://x.com/little_wolf82/status/1644765029445562371?s=20

2023-04-06

#fanartist appreciation queue #lokewolf82 #stucky fanart #prewar stucky #brooklyn boys #this barbie is allan :-)#coney island #beachwear

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miryum · 2 years

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A Greaser’s Girl- Outsiders AU (Spot Conlon x Reader)

Based off of this request: Newsies x Outsiders where Spot and the newsies are in Tulsa. I haven't worked out a plot, but it would be cool.

Spot Conlon was a greaser- and a great one at that. He had built his way up the ranks and earned his respect. He had a nasty reputation that everyone knew and feared. Spot was hardened and barely showed any emotion. He had a group of loyal greasers at his side and they were known to be the toughest gang in all of Tulsa. The Brooklyn Boys as they called themselves.

Only one thing could make him break. Only one thing was ever known to make him grow soft. Only one thing was known to make him smile. And that was his girl Y/n.

There were only two problems: Y/n was a Soc and his gang didn’t know about their relationship.

Y/n and Spot met one of the few days Spot went to school. Of course, Spot didn’t actually go to his classes, but he was smoking on school grounds. So technically, he did go to school.

Y/n had exited the building and walked right into Spot’s smoke cloud.

She coughed and waved the air in front of her.

“What’s a cutie like you doing here?” Spot had raised an eyebrow, not understanding how he hadn’t noticed her beauty before.

“Trying to get away from you.” Y/n had grumbled, hurriedly walking away.

“Come on, doll.” Spot had pouted sarcastically, “Don’t be like that.”

Y/n had then turned, flipped him off, and got into her friends’ car.

Spot was in love.

That was a year and a half ago. Y/n had eventually punched Spot across the face when he had flirted one too many times and then felt bad so she agreed to go on a date with him. What Y/n hadn’t told Spot at the time was that her friends were at the restaurant to make sure nothing went wrong.

Y/n fell for Spot on that date once she saw his true personality and agreed to be his girlfriend.

The pair had just celebrated their one year anniversary and while the first half went wonderfully, the second half didn’t go as well as Spot had planned.

The Brooklyn Boys had crashed their date. They had known that their leader was seeing someone but they didn’t know who. So, they decided to check it out.

“He’s going out with some Soc chick?” One of his boys asked, crouched behind a bush.

“I can’t believe him!” A second exclaimed.

“I-I’ve never seen him smile before.” A third said, looking disturbed, “He’s whipped. Should we confront him?”

“No!” The first said at the same time the second said, “Yes.”

“You wanna confront Spot Conlon about his girl?” The first asked, aghast.

The second stuttered out, “Y-Yes. No. No.” He decided.

“Wait.” The third boy looked up, “Where’d he go?”

Someone cleared their throat behind them, “Boys?”

“Y-Yeah?” They looked up, voice cracking.

“What are you doing?” Spot Conlon stood over them, arm around Y/n’s waist. Y/n looked down at them, a confused smile on her face.

“Heya Spot!” The three boys quickly stood, “Well, we just wanted to see-”

“There’s no way to recover from this.” The third one coughed out, “We look like creeps.”

“You do.” Y/n agreed, holding out a hand for them to shake, “I’m Y/n. Spot’s girlfriend.”

“The best girlfriend there is.” Spot pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The three boys all took turns shaking Y/n’s hand, looking bewildered at Spot’s display of affection, “This is gonna take some getting used to.” One muttered.

“Yeah.” Y/n chuckled, “It took some time for me too. But I promise I won’t get in your way or anything.”

“And I expect all of you boys- even the ones not here- to treat her like a queen.” Spot said sternly, the boys nodding quickly along, “Since the ‘secret’ is out, she’s gonna be coming over a lot.”

“Right.” The boys mumbled their goodbye’s and sped off, probably to tell the rest of the gang.

“Guess the cat’s outta the bag.” Y/n muttered.

“I couldn’t be more glad.” Spot pressed a kiss to his girl’s lips, “I can’t wait to show you off.”

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