#newsies spot conlon imagines
Note
LISA !! your requests being open again is a glorious occasion, i’m so happy !!
now, could i pretty please request spot conlon with a gender-neutral reader who’s a brooklyn newsie ? the reader’s newsie nickname is sunshine because they’re known for being super cheerful and sweet and pretty much always having a smile on their face, but thing is that spot’s kind of closed-off and gruff with them, even more than he is normally, because he finds it kind of grating how relentlessly happy they are when as newsies they live the way they do. but the reader just keeps on being the way they are, being kind to spot and smiling whenever they see him no matter how he always responds with a scowl, until finally he snaps at them and tells them to quit being so weird and happy all the time, but then they actually do and it makes him realize that he’s relied on seeing their smile every day and that he actually likes seeing it, so he goes to find sunshine and apologize, telling them that he actually admires how strong they are to keep being kind and happy despite everything and how much he appreciates it. it doesn’t have to end with a confession or anything, but hopefully at least some romantic undertones ?
now, as always, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but thanks in advance if you do, and i hope you’re doing well !! <3
'cloudy days' - spot conlon
masterlist
For once, it’s not a gray and blustery day in New York. Spot Conlon doesn’t know what the hell he was thinking, settling in a place like this, although he supposes he never really had a choice about it at all. It’s a cold and shady city, and that mood translates to its people. No one here would give him the time of day unless they absolutely had to, and he wouldn’t give them a damn thing either. That’s the tune of the city, and Spot drums it daily. Eat or be eaten. Kill or get killed.
That’s the way it’s always been, the way it always will be. Spot doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy. He’s grown past the point of needing it. Spot will do what Spot does best: look out for himself, never take handouts, never be dependent on anything save his feet to carry him places and that weird thing beating between his ribs to keep him alive.
The other newsies respect that, and look up to it. Brooklyn may have a reputation for being the meanest borough around, but the newsies protect each other like no one else. Even when the sun don’t shine for months on end. Even on rare days, like today, when it does.
The bright streets have Spot thinking a little funny, just like always. When the sun is out and the skies are blue, he starts feeling a strange thing some might describe as happiness. For once, everything isn’t totally terrible. It’s like the high he gets after soaking his enemies, ‘cept his knuckles aren’t bloody and his eyes aren’t blackened.
Maybe it’s got him in a good mood. Maybe that’s why, when a new fella comes looking for a spot in Spot’s growing army of newsies, he’s inclined to say yes. This new ally of his is nothing like Spot has ever seen before. They’re smiling at him before they so much as tip their hat or say hello. At first, it makes him wonder if they’ve got some sort of problem, then he realizes that the newcomer isn’t grinning like that to be threatening, just because they’re legitimately, well, happy.
Strange. Confusing, even. Still, the abundance of sunshine is rattling Spot’s brain, so instead of laughing in their face, he actually offers them a place amongst the ranks. Were it any other day, he’s sure he would have made them go somewhere a little more sickly-sweet, where friendship is magic and everyone can stand around, fuckin’, square dancing or something, whatever it is they do over in ‘Hattan or the other less serious boroughs, but he doesn’t. He welcomes them into his home. He pretends he isn’t completely baffled by their happy-go-lucky act.
And, since it’s clearly on the brain anyway, he gives them a nickname then and there, a real Spot Conlon first edition: Sunshine. He reckoned it seemed pretty true at the moment. As it turns out, he had no idea. Sunshine gets on his damn nerves every moment of every day. They’re so sweet it makes him want to throw up. If he ever saw them without a smile on their face for longer than thirty seconds, he’d suspect an imposter. They toss out compliments like they mean it or something, and they actually pick flowers to give to their friends.
Spot would think it was an act, except it actually isn’t. No way a human being could keep up a pretense that long and not go totally crazy. Spot, for one, does feel like he’s going crazy, but that’s neither here nor there.
Every day is the same. He wakes up too early, drags himself out of bed and gets ready, then pokes his head out of his space just to find Sunshine already up and at it, beaming at him and wishing him a very good morning, Spot, before turning to the next half-asleep newsie and repeating them message, and man, he wants to throttle someone already. In the line for papes, they’re excitedly talking to him about how they hope for a good headline, and whenever Spot runs into them while selling, they’ve always got something funny to say. If Spot wanted to laugh, he’d go to the circus. Although even he has to admit that New York feels like that half the damn time anyway.
It’s actually starting to make him angry. Who is this newcomer to burst in and disrupt everyone like this? Spot’s no fool. Even though he’s proud of his newsies and glad to be among the best company there is, this isn’t the life any of them would choose if they had other options. The newsies are here because they have no money and no prospects. They are the terrible youth, set out on the streets because there is no one else to watch out for them but each other.
Yet here’s this stranger, bounding down the halls of their lodging house, beaming and laughing as if everything were sugar and sweet. It feels as if they’re making a mockery of the whole thing, and Spot doesn’t like being taken for a fool.
It twists his judgment. Spot isn’t exactly known for his warm and caring personality, but he cracks down even harder around Sunshine. Maybe then they’ll figure out that the whole super happy thing doesn’t fly around here. Dreams don’t get you anywhere, and pretending otherwise only costs a lot of effort that could instead be directed towards selling some papes.
He should be better, Spot knows that. Already, his closest friends have started to scold him (very carefully) about how he’s treating sunshine. “Y/N’s no problem,” they’ve said. “It’s just you, Spot.” But he doesn’t listen.
One day, he gets to the breaking point. After another restless night, Spot drags himself out of bed despite not getting nearly enough sleep. He’s hardly stepped out of his room before Sunshine’s smiling cheerily at him, asking, “How was your sleep, Spot?”
As if they can’t tell by the look on his face. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Spot positively growls at them, “Terrible, obviously. God, can you just quit it with that stupid attitude? It’s makin’ me crazy.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, just pushes right past them and heads downstairs. He’s a grouch all morning, purposely making sure no one is near him while he’s selling and not talking to a soul all throughout the day. He manages to pull himself together enough to sell the papes he needs, but other than that, Spot is barely functioning at all.
Even the Brooklyn newsie home base seems quiet and uneasy when he gets back. Spot sits by himself in his office, temper growing worse with every passing hour. He can’t put his finger on the issue until nightfall, when he hears a chorus of cheerful voices out in the hall and realizes that Sunshine hasn’t spoken to him all day. Not since he snapped at them.
Cursing faintly, Spot drags a tired hand across his face. He’s fucked up, hasn’t he? Thinking back on it now, he remembers the startled look in Sunshine’s eyes when he told them to stop being so fake all the time. It’s fine, he tells himself. Everyone gets their feelings stepped on in Brooklyn. Things will be back to normal this time tomorrow.
Only, it isn’t. When Spot wakes up, Sunshine isn’t there to wish him a good morning. They avoid him in the line to pick up papes, and they steer clear of him throughout the entire day. Even when he makes a point of emerging from his office to sit with the rest of the newsies, Sunshine talks to every damn person there but him. It’s enough to make anyone feel a little guilty. Even Spot Conlon.
As the days go by without a single word from Sunshine, Spot feels worse and worse. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to see their smiles and hear their laughter until he didn’t get a drop of it. It’s like he’s trapped in permanent storm clouds. Only gray clouds and cold nights for him.
God, he’s getting poetic. This is horrific. Spot knows what he has to do, and even though he dreads the idea of having to admit he was wrong, he gathers his strength and goes to find Sunshine. At first, they try to duck out of the way when they see him coming, but Spot tracks them down, pulling them into an empty room so they can talk.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Spot says by way of introduction.
Sunshine doesn’t meet his eyes. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”
A sharp prick of guilt stabs through his chest. “I thought that, too. Turns out I was wrong.”
Sunshine’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet his. “Really?”
“Really,” Spot confirms. “I– I like being around you, Y/N. I like hearing you talk. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about being you.”
A slow, careful smile spreads across Sunshine’s face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Spot says indignantly. “What, you’d think I’d go around saying things that ain’t true? What a waste of time.”
When Sunshine starts laughing, Spot feels his cheeks start to rush with warmth. “It’s not– you know what I mean, don’t you?”
“I do,” they grin. “I’m just glad to hear you want me back.”
“I do want you,” Spot breathes. “Back, I mean. I want you back. Yes.”
When Sunshine smiles knowingly at him again, Spot gets the odd feeling that he’s revealed more of himself than he really ought to, like he’s been caught showing his cards halfway through a bet. He gets the feeling he can trust Sunshine to not call him out, though. For some reason, he believes in them more than anyone. Maybe even more than himself.
The threadbare curtains on a nearby window shift slightly, allowing a thin, tenuous ray of sunlight to slip through the cracks. It slices neatly through the room, illuminating Y/N’s face in thin tendrils of gold. The sun’s back again. They’re back again, and Spot might be okay after all.
requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!
newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#spot conlon#spot conlon imagines#spot conlon x reader#spot conlon oneshot#newsies#newsies imagines#newsies x reader#newsies oneshot#newsies spot conlon#newsies spot conlon imagines#newsies spot conlon x reader#newsies spot conlon oneshot#newsies spot#newsies spot x reader#newsies broadway#newsies live
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happy womens month to the brooklyn girls and kath and medda sarah and smalls and hannah and sniper and the boweries and
#newsies#women in newsies :’)#gotta be my fave thing in the world#spot conlon i will never think of you and imagine a man ever again <3#happy womens month#😁😁
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sketchies of selkie au spot smalls and pips !!
#ive been Thinking about drawing them for a while but with recent strangeties i think i need to become the girlsies content i want to see#it is the joys pf being an artist to bring stocky mechanic femme spot into the world#oh and shes filipina#and my BABIES i dont think i’ve done smalls before !!#pips’ duties mostly involve holding flashlightd and absorbing every word that comes out of spots mouth#(spot wants to keep pips safe. pips wants to prove she can keep up)#smalls is the resident scamp. alley cat.#newsies#im imagining somebody watching the proshot and then coming on the newsies tag to find this like. huh. whuh#selkie au#spot conlon#smalls newsies#pips newsies#brooklyn girlsies#pip does drawings
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there are several reasons as to why i prefer movie!spot but probably the biggest factor is that a relatively unassuming lanky looking white 14-16 y/o filled with bloodlust is so much scarier to me than mister buff guy who just kind of stands there. you expect this short stacked guy to be scary and beat the shit out of you but nothing is scarier than a teenager who can immediately clock all your personal weaknesses/insecurities and use them for evil
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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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@newsiesficchallenges An incorrect quotes post for Day 4 of the current event week!!
I’ve done it for Finch and Redfinch, so I wanted to post for my other favorite ship today! I know it’s not inspirational, but I do think it’s cute and fits Sprace quite well :)
Race: Do you like me?
Spot: Yes.
Race: Really? (*pouts*)
Spot: You really think I would keep up with all of your bullshit if I didn’t love you?
Race, blushing: Oh my god, you just said you loved me.
Spot: We’ve been dating for three years.
#newsies#newsies event weeks#newsies incorrect quotes#racetrack higgins#spot conlon#sprace#I have a bunch of these imagine your otp prompts saved#it’s kinda ridiculous /pos but I love them
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Cocky - Spot Conlon x Reader
Content: flirty fluff!
⚠️ Warnings: female pronouns used, Y/N used, spot being a dick, cursing, not proofread well
Author's note: fine men. thats all. Enjoy!!
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-Y/N's POV-
I had taken the younger newsies to the park and had just returned to see Spot sitting on my bed. I rolled my eyes and walked over to him, my light green dress between my fingers. "Spot!" I said. "What're you doing on my bed?"Just enjoyin' da view," he smirked. I frowned and crossed my arms. "You're still wearing your outdoor clothes. Why would you sit on my nice clean bed wearing them?" He just shrugged and smirked again. "I'on see a problem wit' it.' "Well, I do." I fired back. Spot just groaned and got up from his place on my sheets. "I'll leave, as long as I can sleep 'ere tonight. Mighty fine bed, mighty fine lady." Spot had a shit eating grin on his face. I looked him straight in the eye. "You. Fucking. Wish." I growled, smoothing out the space where he sat previously. He held his hands up in defense. "I'll be back after dinner. Hope the bed bugs don't bite. " He winked and walked out.
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Newsies headcannons, anyone? 🫣
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#spot conlon#newsies#spot x reader#spot conlon x reader#newsies imagines#newsies imagine#newsies x reader
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In the modern era, tell me Race wouldn't be one of those people who just build complicated lego sets 24/7
#then spot be like: 'wtf race'#newsies#racetrack higgins#jack kelly#davey jacobs#spot conlon#racetrack newsies#david jacobs#sprace#newsies broadway#newsies imagines
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thinking about spot conlon. thinking about spot conlon who became an orphan very young. thinking about spot conlon becoming the leader of brooklyn. thinking about spot conlon being so fiercely protective over his newsies because he never got that protection. thinking about spot conlon doing everything he can to take care of these young + scared kids, bc he doesn't want any of them to be alone the way he was. thinking about spot conlon where-
#spot conlon#newsies#i was talking with my mom about newsies + spot and she started talking about what she imagines to be his backstory and now im GJOAWIJF
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Newsies Imagines #33
@sarahjacobslover
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Mwahaha! Spooky season is upon us! Be prepared for some spooky Halloween specials! This is my 1st year writing Halloween fics so any requests are appreciated!
🎃👻💀🕸️🕷️😈🔮🍂🍁
I can write for:
Newsies
Descendants
Avengers and Spider-Man
Criminal Minds (Dr. Reid)
West Side Story
Message me for any other fandoms you might want fics for. Happy hauntings everyone! 🎃
#newsies#newsies 1992#newsies musical#newsies broadway#west side story imagine#newsies x reader#west side story x reader#the avengers#spiderman#spider man x reader#descendants#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#jack kelly#david jacobs#spot conlon#racetrack higgins#carlos descendants#evie descendants#mal descendants#jay descendants#riff west side story x reader#peter parker x reader#west side story baby john#mouthpiece west side story#albert dasilva x reader#kid blink x reader#mush meyers#halloween fics#spooky season
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HI REMEMBER THE LAWYER DAD FAMILY PICTURES BUT WITH LITTLE SPRACE
I FINISHED SPOT ABDHFHJ
THE HIM!!! THE THEM!!!! IM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW AHDVJSH
#i imagine them to be like ten or eleven#i also think spots the kinda guy to not rly like having his picture taken#but race loves the spotlight(lmao)#newsies#sprace#livesies#spot conlon#racetrack higgins#abdhfgsj i cant theyre so adorable#im a father now *wipes tear*#theyre already sitting on the corner of my desk
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i think its so sad that every time newsies adds a female character another one gets cut because i really think (i really Know) sarah and uk spot would get along So well. that older sister energy would make them Instant friends.
#imagine sarah yelling at jack to not break her little brothers heart#then imagine spot yelling at davey to not break her little brothers heart#newsies#newsies uk#sarah jacobs#spot conlon#its actually the worst trend they do#charlie ? cut for sarah and medda#sarah ? cut for kath#smalls ? cut for brooklyn#like this is so twisted😭😭??
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I hit tag limits on my other post but Crutchie is definitely the kinda kid to keep pushing all of Spot's buttons until he's about to combust and then goes 'You wouldn't hit a guy with Crutches would you?'
#'I'm just a little birthday boy' vibes#He also acts demure around like teachers or other people in charge#So he won't get punished ajsndndn#Spot gets SO MUCH shit from passersby for being mean to Crutchie it's so fucking funny#crutchie morris#spot conlon#(Crutchie's like this with other people too but Spot gets the most irritated)#(It's very entertaining)#newsies 1992#I imagine their movie counterparts
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@ anyone else who’s seen London Newsies, did anyone else hear Spot call Jack an asshole after the rally? Because I haven’t seen anyone else talk about it but I was sitting 3 rows up in Brooklyn and heard it very clearly - it was truly iconic
#spot was truly iconic tbh#the way she played her was less stoic than the other portrayals I’ve seen#she was silly while still being tough and intimidating and I loved that so much#also imagine being able to portray a character who has all of 10 minutes of stage time#and being able to show that she’s tough yet silly and strong and feminine and loyal#like#I swear the acting in this production was top notch#newsies#newsies london#spot Conlon#west endsies
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A Roll of the Die (Spot Conlon x Reader)
New York was divided into levels. Levels that made up skyscrapers and classes of wealth. There were the rich people- the top tier of New York City. Then there were the people directly under them, middle class who were their assistants or worked away at the bank or as a maid and butler. There was also the lower class. The people who had two or three jobs, scavenging away for the smallest scrap of money. Maybe seamstresses, factory workers, or newsies. And then there was the lowest of all of New York. The street rats. The homeless. The scabbers.
Y/n hated the levels of New York. As she was on the bottom, her opinion would make sense. Y/n made a living as a scabber. She worked many small jobs- wherever she could find them. Most of the time, she sold newspapers alongside the newsies. She wasn’t officially a part of the newsie ranks, nor did she ever intend to join them, but it was a somewhat stable job that helped her maintain enough money for her and her family to eat, so in her book, it was a mighty fine job.
However, Y/n got wind of a strike that was stirring in the newsie ranks. Her scabber friends, Mark and Joseph told her that the newsies were upset at the raise in price and were deciding to do something about it. Apparently, the newsies had stopped Mark and Joseph from buying papes yesterday while Y/n was off sewing clothes with her sister.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Y/n groaned once she heard the news as the trio slowly made their way to the circulation centre. “You let them stop you from buying papes? What about your day's work? And now you’re telling me I should stop getting an honest day’s pay?”
“They’ll beat you up if you don’t.” Mark warned.
“Like they’d beat up a girl.” Y/n chuckled. She hopped down onto the street, a carriage barely missing her. Joseph pulled her back onto the sidewalk.
“I heard that they even got Spot Conlon on board,” Joseph gossiped.
“That little guy?” Y/n rolled her eyes. “What’s he gonna do to me?”
“You’re not scared of him?” Mark laughed incredulously.
“No.” Y/n shrugged. The three of them got to the gate of the circulation centre and as Mark and Joseph joined the growing ranks of newsies, Y/n nonchalantly stepped up to the counter.
“Hi Weisel.” Y/n grinned, “200 papes please?”
Weisel raised a brow. “Really? You of all people not joining the strike? Thought you scabbers would wanna change the laws.” He then turned and yelled, “200 papes for the girl!”
“Not so loud!” Y/n hissed, “the newsies can’t know I’m buying.”
“Looks like they already do.” Weisel smirked and nodded to the crowd around her.
Y/n sighed and reluctantly turned to face the throng. She was surrounded by angry and expectant newsies. Mark and Joseph looked worried from the back. Weisel slid the pack of papes towards her and gestured for his money. Y/n slammed her coins down and Weisel happily took them.
“What are you doin’?” The lead newsie asked. It didn’t sound like a question.
“Buying papes,” Y/n snorted a laugh. “Obviously.” Life on the streets had shown her to act indifferent until the first punch was thrown.
“Haven’t you heard about the strike?” Another newsie with a cigar hanging from his lips asked.
“Yeah.”
“You can’t buy papes,” another said. “We won’t allow it. For the strike to work, no one can sell papes.”
“Yeah, but some of us need to eat,” Y/n pointed out. She took her papers and started out the clump of newsies. They blocked her and Y/n stepped back into the middle of the circle. She squared her shoulders. Y/n didn’t like being surrounded. The odds weren’t in her favour and it made her feel trapped.
“You can’t sell papes!” The first newsie argued. He seemed to be their leader. “We’re in this together. I know you wanna get your money, but just cause we make pennies doesn’t give them the right to rub our noses in it. Are you gonna roll over and let Pulitzer pick your pocket? They need to respect your rights! All we ask for is a square deal. I told your buddies this yesterday, and Imma tell you this today: for the sake of every overworked kid in this whole city, I beg you. Throw down your papers and join the strike.”
Y/n rolled her eyes. “Real nice speech you got going on there. Worked on my friends.” She jerked a head towards Mark and Joseph. “But… it’s not gonna work on me. I need this. More than any of you. You know nothing of my life and how hard it’s been. I need to get my money. I need to feed my siblings. No one else will feed them except me. And without you lot on the streets, maybe I’ll actually be able to buy some food for myself. Ever think of that?”
Someone pushed through the crowd. A teenage boy stopped in front of her. He was maybe fifteen or sixteen with a cap pulled low over his dirty blond hair. His blue eyes pierced hers. “Listen… goil,” he finally decided on before continuing, “do you know who I am?”
“No.” Y/n deadpanned.
“Spot Conlon. King of Brooklyn.” The boy smirked.
“Am I supposed to be impressed by that?” The newsies all fell silent. No one had ever talked back to Spot Conlon before.
Spot huffed. “If you weren’t a goil, you’d be on the ground, bleeding after the soaking I gave you.”
“Then do it.” Y/n challenged. “I’ve been beaten up before.”
“Listen,” Spot ignored her comment, “I didn’t come all the way from Brooklyn for this strike just for some scabber to mess it up.”
“Sorry, Spot Conlon,” Y/n pushed him aside and the newsies gasped. “but I gotta go.”
“Did you just… push me?” Spot gaped.
“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”
“Leave us,” Spot Conlon waved everyone away. His newsies pushed all the other boroughs away to leave Y/n and him alone. Y/n felt a stir of panic in her chest. What was about to happen?
“So,” Spot laid an arm around Y/n shoulders. She shrugged him off and replaced him with her papes. “Where do we start?”
“What?”
“I’ve never sold in ‘Hattan before. Where do you sell?” Spot asked.
“What are you doing?” Y/n squinted at him. “What’s your angle? Your tactic?”
“No tactic, doll, just wanna help you sell.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Where do you sell, doll?”
Y/n rolled her eyes at his insistence. “Fine. But the first sign that you’re manipulating me, I’m ditching you.”
“Fine by me.” Spot stayed at her side as she walked to her selling spot, seeming to take it all in. He seemed relaxed, hands in pockets and looking around casually. Y/n’s wariness of the boy hadn’t gone away, but after a while, she felt herself loosen up a bit and step into the newsie role.
Y/n had one of the best days selling. With no other newsies around, people flocked to her to get their hands on the news. Some asked her where the others were and Y/n replied with, “they’re on strike.”
If her customers had been poorer, they would’ve looked on with confusion and disdain, wondering and judging her for not joining her friends to try for a better life. However, her patrons were richer and simply complimented her on staying true to business and even tipped her extra.
At the end of the day, Y/n’s bag was brimming with coins, leaving her smiling proudly. This would certainly provide a couple meals for her family.
Y/n had expected Spot to try and disway her from selling, but he just found a bench to lounge on, watching her and the passerby’s intently.
“You’d make a good newsie,” he commented lightly after the day had passed.
“I’ll never be a newsie.” Y/n said hotly, as if taken personal offence. “I’m a scabber.”
“Do you ever do work in Brooklyn?” Spot asked, looking at her as they walked.
“Not usually.”
Spot hummed. “You should.”
“Why’s that?” This time, it was Y/n’s turn to look at him inquisitively.
“I’d get to see you more.” Spot smiled softly. A group of young men passed them and Spot instinctively took Y/n’s arm, guiding her carefully past them. Once they were gone, Spot’s demeanour eased up and offered Y/n his arm. Y/n shook her head and pushed him away.
“This is all a ploy to try and get me to join the strike,” Y/n said dismissively.
“How is me wanting to see you going to get you to join the strike?” Spot chuckled lightly.
Y/n was silent for a moment before replying, “I don’t know, but I know you’re smart enough that you have an endgame.”
“Aw!” Spot nudged her. “You think I’m smart.”
“Listen, bud.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard plenty of stories about you. I know your true colours. I know not to trust you. I’m not joining the strike and I’m not working in Brooklyn. End of story. Goodbye.” Y/n then turned on her heel and walked up a set of stairs that led to her family’s apartment.
**
A week had passed when Y/n’s sister shared some interesting news with her. “Y/n, can you do me a favour?”
“Anything,” Y/n instantly replied, looking up from her mother- mandated sewing.
“Well, there’s a job opportunity that pays really well that’s been offered to me.” Her sister said hesitantly, a large smile growing over her face.
“Really?!” Y/n set her sewing down. “That’s great! When do you start?”
“Tomorrow. But, there’s a catch,” her sister sat down next to her. “It’s in Brooklyn and I would need you to walk me back and forth.” Y/n’s brows tightened and her sister quickly exclaimed, “But you could come back to ‘Hattan during the day to work and all I need is someone else to walk me so I stay safe! It’s really not that far away. With the pay increase, maybe I could catch a trolley some days? Or you could get a job in Brooklyn too.”
“I’m really happy for you and what this means for the family,” Y/n started, “so yes, I’ll walk you. But how did you get the job?”
“Well, see, that’s the odd part. A kid just came up to me one day and said that he knew someone who was looking for workers. He introduced me to the guy, and here we are!”
“Who was the kid?”
“Um, I think his name was Spot Connon? Or something?”
“Spot Conlon?”
“Yeah! That’s it! Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
**
It seemed too big of a coincidence for Y/n as she marched next to her sister, walking her to work. And when Spot Conlon was seen selling papes on the next corner over, it felt too bad to be true. After she had ushered her sister inside to her new job, Y/n strode up to Spot and jabbed a finger in his chest, disrupting the few customers around him. “What the hell, Spot?!” She cried.
“Geez, Y/n,” Spot grinned. “Came all the way to Brooklyn just for me?”
“Why’d you get my sister that job? How dare we even talk to her! Stay away from me and my family and stop trying to get me to join the strike!”
“The strike’s over, doll.” Spot chuckled, waving his papes in her face. Y/n stood for a moment, processing his words. “Now, would you like to apologise for storming over here and disturbing my sales?” His words were coy and made her want to slap him.
“Just, come here!” Y/n growled, pulling him away from the customers.
“An impromptu make out session?” Spot teased, “I’m down.”
“Shut it, Conlon.” The girl turned to face him. “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”
“Y/n, I think I’ve made it pretty clear,” Spot’s demeanour changed drastically. “I wanna be your friend. I like being around you. If you didn’t hate me, I might even ask you out. I should be asking you the question of why don’t you like me?”
Y/n bristled, startled by his confession. “Because,” she hesitated, “because you were trying to get me to join the newsies. All my life I’ve had to look out for me and my family. I’ve had to scrape along the bottom of the barrel just to survive. It doesn’t seem fair that instead of working hard and being unhappy and burnt out, you guys earn the same amount of money but you’re happy while doing it. You have friends. You’re loved.”
Spot tilted his head. “Doesn’t your family love you?”
“They’re too busy.” Y/n muttered, shaking her head. “Mom and dad work two jobs each just to pay rent so it falls on me to earn money for food and clothes. It’s not fair.”
“Nothing about life is fair.”
“Could you offer some sympathy instead of truth?” Y/n asked snarkily.
“Isn’t truth better than wool over your eyes?” Spot retorted easily.
After a moment, Y/n muttered, “how did you become so smart?”
Spot grinned. “I’ve always been smart, doll. You’ve just been too dumb to see it.”
“I have the same street smarts as you,” Y/n said. “It’s not my fault if I don’t have proper schooling.” Y/n’s hands balled into fists and she glared harshly at him. Spot noticed and gently took one of her hands in his. Y/n jumped back, but kept her hand in his. Her jaw tightened and Spot slowly reached up to cup her face, running his thumb over her tense jaw and then moving his hand up to her eyebrows, thumbing the space between them, making her relax.
“You’re right,” Spot whispered. “None of this is your fault. It’s a bad roll of the dice. But we can make the best outta it. We can make friends and family outta it. You can’t spend your life in misery, especially if you have people looking out for you.”
“Are you looking out for me?” Y/n was hesitant in asking her question.
“I thought I’d made that perfectly clear,” Spot said, cocking his head slightly. “Why else would I seek you out or try and help your family? It’s not everyday I see a pretty girl. I wanna hold onto her while I can.”
Y/n exhaled a laugh, looking away from Spot. He frowned and tilted her chin toward him, forcing her to meet his eye. “Why’re you laughing? Do you think you’re a joke?” He asked, “Do you think I’m joking about you being beautiful?”
“Spot,” Y/n gently pushed his hands away from her face. “I’m a scabber. I know daughters of CEO’s might be a little outta your league, but anyone would be lucky to have you.”
“But I don’t want just anyone,” Spot muttered. “I want you.”
The tension in the air held the words aloft. Did he really mean it? Slowly, waiting for Y/n to stop him, though she never did, Spot stepped closer to her. “Is this okay?”
Y/n nodded. She couldn’t trust her words. Before Spot’s lips could brush hers, Y/n wondered, “are you sure you want to?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything, doll.” Spot smirked slightly. And then he kissed her.
#spot conlon#spot conlon x reader#spot#spot conlon imagine#spot conlon oneshot#spot conlon x y/n#Newsies#newsie#newsies musical#Newsies The Musical#new york#newsboys#newsies movie#scabbers#Jack Kelly#jack#race#racetrack higgins#weisel#weasel#joseph pulitzer#strike#fluff#one sided feelings#one sided enemies to lovers#enemies to lovers#manhattan#brooklyn#brooklyn boys#brooklyn’s hereeeee
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