From Your pal, Crutchie ( Crutchie x reader ) complete

Chapter 1

August 15 1890
The sun was high in the sky, it was 12 o'clock and Y/N was selling newspapers like she did everyday. Y/N had a certain spot she sold her papers, about four blocks away from the Lodging centre. Right beside a restaurant.
Y/N made a decent amount of money, about a dollar and fifty cents a day. Unfortunately some people offered other forms of payment, and without having to say the specifics it didn't involve food or money. Y/N found it disgusting to say the least, but was able to brush it off and continue.
On this specific day business was quite slow, probably because it was a Sunday. Y/N didn't really like to work on Sunday, but she hadn't made much that whole week so there was no other choice. Y/N was quite lonely having no one else to talk to, well other then Racetrack but he was still quite a ways away. Plus Y/N wasn't the biggest fan of him. Smoked to much.
After the day was done, about seven o'clock
Y/N still had about ten papers left. Sure the publishing company would take the papers back, but it still it hurt a little knowing that was money she didn't make.
Y/N decided to head back before it got to dark, night was dangerous for a girl. As Y/N headed on her way back to the Lodging centre she ended up bumping into someone, making her fall to the pavement. "Eh! Watch where youse going!" She yelled from the concrete sidewalk.
Y/N looked up from the ground to see, Crutchie? Upon this sight Y/N was sent into a tad frenzy. Crutchie couldn't walk all that well and she just sent him onto the ground. "Oh my gosh! Crutchie Im so sorry!" Y/N apologized quickly.
Y/N ran over to Crutchie and grabbed his wooden crutch. "A, don't sweat it. It ain't your fault." Crutchie responded grabbing the crutch.
Y/N didn't really know Crutchie all that well, but she did know that he was Jack Kelly's friend, and he was sent to the refuge during the strike.
"Eh. What is you doing out so late?" Y/N asked with curiosity.
"I's was jus going for a walk." Crutchie responded.
"So late?"
"I'll be fine, don't stress over it." Crutchie reassured.
"I's wasn't. You only wish a goil would worry bout you." Y/N chuckled.
Crutchie laughed and held his free hand over his chest to display the feeling of being hurt.
"Well, see ya later?" Crutchie asked.
Y/N shrugged with a smile.
Once Y/N got back to the Lodging centre, she made her way to her corders and flopped on a small cot. Y/N wasn't really like the other guys. She kept to herself for the most part. Y/N learned to be introverted from her childhood. Considering she was at home all the time.
The next morning Y/N woke up. She sat up in her bed. Her neck was sore, after all the cot she slept on wasn't the most comfortable thing.
"Rise and Shine! Sweethearts!" Jack yelled at the top of his lungs.
Y/N stood up and stretched a little before getting dressed. Y/N threw on some blondish trousers and a dark grey newsie tank top. She plopped on a pair of old, brown shoes and walked out ready to seize the day. "Hey, Y/N where's ya cap?" Racetrack asked smirking.
Y/N was always annoyed by this question. The simple fact was, she didn't have one 'cause she needed to spend her money on more important things. Y/N walked right up to Racetrack and pulled the cigar he had, right out of his mouth and threw it. "Hey! That's my cigar!" Race jolted.
"You'll steal another." Y/N said walking away with a devilish smile.
A couple minutes later all the guys gathered around the church, waiting for the nuns to bring coffee. Sure enough only a couple minutes they appeared. Upon being giving her coffee a question had arisen. "You make more money then the guys?" One of the sisters asked leaning over the railing.
Y/N almost chocked on her coffee. "Keep it down sista. Youse gonna get the guys tawking." Y/N snapped back making a cutting motion across her neck with her hand.
"There ain't no way a goil is gonna make more money den me." One of the newsies pipped up.
"You's see what I means?" Y/N asked handing her cup back and walking away.
Once the whole group of newsies got to the gate they all waited for the headline. "Maybe it's gonna be a boldly murder." Romeo said with some excitement.
Specs hit Romeo on the head. "Ow, What's ya do that for?" Romeo asked rubbing his head.
"Murder ain't a thing to get excited 'bout." He responded.
Y/N couldn't help but smile a little.
"Eh, would ya shut up! Da headline is being written." Jack shushed.
All the newsies looked at the chalkboard with anticipation. Hands gripped around the bars and all squished close together.
The headline went up it read. "Blazing Fire in The Bronx."
A couple newsies let out whoops and shouts. "Now, dats something I can get behind." Racetrack shouted.
Then the Delancey brothers came to open the gates. "Eh, Oscar! How does it feel to always get's da short end of da stick?" Racetrack asked with a dorky smile. Obviously poking fun at his hight.
"Why I outta-" Oscar mumbled moving forward to start a fist fight.
"Hey, fellas no need for fighting. Let's keep it civil." Jack said standing between the two.
"Come and get 'em!" Weasel yelled.
Then all at once all the newsies filed into the square to get their newspapers.
Once it was Y/N turn to get her papers she put down fifty cents. "Hundred papes." She said shoving her calloused hands in her pockets.
There was a brief moment of silence. Y/N turned her head over to Morris Delancey. "I said, hundred papes. Ya deaf?"
"You know your quite beautiful." Morris flirted.
Instead of being offended Y/N laughed. "You would stoop so low dat youse date a newsie?" Y/N asked smiling.
"Sounds desperate to me." One of the newsies, Henry piped up.
Morris frowned and shoved the newspapers over to Y/N as she walked away, counting them to make sure she got what she paid for.
"Um, I beg your pardon but who are you?" Someone asked.
Y/N was taken a little by surprise. The person speaking didn't have a classic New York accent.
She turned around to see a tall, thin teenager standing beside a little boy. "Jus a newsie. You?" Y/N responded.
"A, Davey. Nice to me you. Just a newsie." Davey said walking over to Y/N holding his hand out.
Y/N let out a smile. "Ya know she's has a name. It's Newsgoil." Racetrack blurted out making the other guys, but Davey laugh.
"Try me Race, I's knows where you hold ya cigars." Y/N shouted back.
"Oh yeah? Where?"
"You, Blink and Specs room. Second dresser, bottom drawer." Y/N answered sticking her tongue with a smile.
Specs and Blink started to laugh, considering she had gotten it right. "How did youse know?" Racetrack asked.
"Ask n' it shall be given ta ya."
Awhile back Y/N had asked Blink where Race kept his cigars in case she needed to use them against him. Now was her time. "Heh, yeah. But in all seriousness da name is Y/N." Y/N said getting back on track.
"But you can't be a newsie. Your a girl." A little boy shouted from the line.
All the newsies chuckled a little aside from Davey, he ran over to the kid. Scolding him.
"Look kid, I'm jus like youse. Tryin to make da dough. It don't matta if I'm a goil, cause we's in da same spot." Y/N replied sweetly.
Y/N wasn't that hard on the kid, he looked only about ten. Y/N always loved kids. (Sorry if you actually hate kids, just try to roll with it) "Fair enough. By the way I'm Les, Davey's little brother." Les said walking over to Y/N and shaking her intensely.
"I'm so sorry for his actions." Davey apologized, grabbing his brother's wrist.
"Eh, don't sweat it." Y/N responded.
There was a bit of silence before Y/N broke it.
"Welp, these papes ain't gonna sell dem self." Y/N said running off.
That day Y/N had made quite a bit, considering the headline, but then again newsies were the real ones selling the papers.
When Y/N got back to the Lodging centre she played a little poker with the guys before heading off to bed, but this night she couldn't really sleep.
Y/N grabbed her coat and headed up to one of the balconies. As Y/N leaned over the railing, her E/C sparkled in the moonlight. She looked up at the night sky and all the stars, Sure it wasn't as clear as it could have been, but it was still beautiful. Y/N rummaged through her coat pocket and pulled out some old, brown and rusty dog tags.
As Y/N stared at the dog tags, she felt a little part of her die. The tags read in barely visible writing. Kevin, aka Rusty. "Why did ya havta leave Rusty." Y/N in a "broken" voice.

A/N Woo! What a plot twist! Yeah I know I suck at writing, especially the writing of the accents, but I'm trying. So thanks for reading.
The Author