•Da Goil From Brooklyn
•Albert (feat. Race and dem Brooklyn Boys)
•Broadway
•1899
Summary
Albert meets Hotshot's sister...
Reader POV
"Up an' at 'em boys an' goil!" I heard Spot call. I groaned and rolled over.
"C'mon, (Y/N), does papes ain't gonna sell demselves!" my big brudda, Hotshot, yanked me down from da top bunk. Literally.
"Aight! Aight! I'm goin'," I surrendered as I made my way to da washroom. I got a private stall ta change in, since I'se a goil. Afta' I was done changin', Spot called an assembly.
"Newsies of Brooklyn! We'se hoid 'Hattan's cry foa' help! We'se seen dat dey ain't backin' down! An' now, we'se ready ta join dem an' STRIKE!" A collective shout of approval rang throughout the Lodgin' House. We'se all followed Spot out of da buildin', through Brooklyn, ova' da bridge, an' to 'Hattan. We met up wit' da 'Hattan newsies, along wit' newsies from every borough, at Medda's theatre foa' a rally. Spot, Ace, an' my brudda got up on stage wit' a 'Hattan kid. Davey, I think 'is name was. I became engrossed in what dis kid was sayin'.
Albert P.O.V.
We were at Medda's foa' da rally. I sat next to Race as we watched Brooklyn enta'. I recognized Spot an' a few odda's, but one face caught me off gaurd. It was a goil! She had soft (h/c) hai' an' radient (e/c) eyes. She woa' da red shirt of a Brooklyn Newsie. She was da prettiest goil I'se eva' seen, an' I'se seen a lot of pretty goils. I turned ta Race, who had been a Brooklyn Newsie befoa' movin' ta 'Hattan, an' asked 'im who da dream goil was.
"Hm? Oh, dats (Y/N), but everyone calls 'er Bullseye 'cause she neva' misses 'er target. She's Hotshot's sista'," the cigar-smoking bother, who happened to be my best friend, informed me.
"She's beautiful..."
Wow, 3 chapters in a day? Thank the road trip I'm on! Should I do a part two? I hope you enjoyed! ~Mystery♡
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Newsies Imagines
FanfictionSimply put: A book of Newsies imagines to (hopefully) sooth your inner longing to join the newsie strike of 1899. Requests open!
