#race higgins imagines

[heliads]

All in the Words

Based on this request: "race and some of the newsies are hanging out with yn and yn is acting all tough. They keep trying to make her drop that attitude by making jokes, and race flirts with her as a joke. Yn gets all nervous and blushy so he just keeps going thinking its adorable until yn fires back and he kinda dies"

me when i flirt with someone and they instantly perish

masterlist

Dawn comes and goes, and you are not there to see it. Normally, this would fill you with more than a small amount of fear– miss your morning schedule, and you’ll be hours behind when it comes to selling newspapers. Newsies live in the daylight hours, shouting slogans and catchy headlines as long as there are still people out on the street who can see enough to hand you coins. It does make it difficult to get up so early each morning, but it’s not like you have a ton of options otherwise.

Yet when you open your eyes this morning and see not sunrise but a well established day, you feel not a bit displeased with yourself. After all, why should you? Today, as it turns out, all newsies across the city will have a day off. The newspapers don’t like printing on holidays, so you can get off scot free for the whole set of twenty-four hours. Nothing says special like that.

For newsies, days off are a bit of a mixed bag. There is, of course, the immediate response to hearing that you won’t have to get up at dawn and spend too many hours out on the streets hawking papes. That would explain the shrieks and calls of glee from some of the younger newsies. Older ones, too. The second Jack Kelly heard about the holiday, he muttered something about having to talk to someone and hurried off in the direction of the New York Sun. You have a feeling he’s tracking down a particularly pretty journalist.

It’s great to think that you won’t have to work. However, you aren’t a newsie for the thrill of it. Not working means you don’t get paid, and that’s far less fun than one would care to imagine. That’s why you’ve been carefully saving your pennies for weeks now, just trying to make sure you’ll have enough to cover today’s costs before your job comes back the next day. It’s a life spread thin, to be sure, but it’s what you’ve got, and you don’t intend to waste it.

Still, sleeping in is pretty nice indeed. You allow yourself one last moment of leisure before dragging yourself out of bed. Most kids in the Manhattan Lodging House have partaken in the same delights– more than half of them are still sleeping peacefully in their bunks. You do your best to get ready as quietly as you can, and shut the door silently behind you.

By the time noon rolls around, the rest of your friends are up and at ‘em. Most of you are choosing to either kick back and relax in the Lodging House or go look for trouble somewhere else in the city. You heard Spot popped in once to check on a deal with Jack, but other than that, there are no threats in sight.

None to your physical health, at least. Threats to your peace and quiet still exist. You’ve barely sat down on your favorite threadbare armchair in a corner of the main room (the title being won by a good few rounds of fisticuffs, all solidly settled in your favor) before your name is being tossed around by some of the newsies nearby. You have a feeling that they’re trying to be discreet, but their whispers sound more like shouts when you’re indoors instead of yelling to be heard in the streets of Manhattan.

Four boys are causing trouble today, as it appears. Race, Jojo, Albert, and Romeo. All of the newsies are good friends– you have to be, at any rate, or you’ll lose your head with the godawful conditions of being outside all day– but these four are no exception. They’re the closest of anyone here, exceptions being Jack and Crutchie.

Today it seems they’ll be proving their camaraderie by trying to get a rise out of you. This isn’t anything special. You have a bit of a reputation for being stone cold, but can they blame you? Girls have to fight twice as hard to stay alive in this city, so what if you’re more here to keep yourself afloat than make friends? You’re nice when you have to be, but you keep your distance when you want it. Just because you’re not flirting all the time doesn’t mean you hate the rest of them.

The ‘Hattan boys know you don’t hate them, but that doesn’t stop the four newsies nearest you from trying to win you over anyway in the only method they know best:  being annoying and turning everything into a joke. Romeo tries his luck first, shooting his shot with a tip of his cap and a wink. You arch one derisive brow, which is all it takes for him to give up and head back to his friends.

Albert is next. He starts off strong with a story about a dream he’d had last night about pretty girls going out with him, but you cut him off thoughtfully with a recollection of a dream you’d had recently where all boys left you alone under pain of death. Struck out, he gestures for Jojo to take over.

Jojo’s attempts at flattery are so awful that you give up on trying to entertain yourself by watching them fail. You reach over for a paperback Katherine had left behind on her last visit to the Manhattan Lodging House. The book serves the dual purpose of letting you ignore the laughter of the boys and also hiding your face for the last of their attempts.

See, you can ignore Albert or Romeo any day. They’re just friends, just coworkers. You’ll never see them in any sort of romantic light. The problem comes with Race. Race is charming. Race is cute. Race is the only one who has ever been able to get through the strongest of your walls. It doesn’t matter if he’s just doing it as a joke, if Race flirts with you in the slightest, you will be affected by it.

Best to make sure he can’t tell, then, so you prop up the book in front of your face and pray he can’t see the slight smile that makes its way across your lips when Race tries his hand at flirting. It wasn’t even a good pickup line. Still, it worked, and that is absolutely devastating to your reputation.

The worst part is that he knows it, too. Even though you do your best to act as if you’re absolutely fine, you can tell by the triumphant tilt of his head that he knows it. Y/N’s got a weakness at last, and it’s Race. Of course it is.

The other boys don’t seem to have caught on, though, they’re just laughing raucously amongst themselves about the usual. Albert calls something out to Race about wanting to go take a tour of the shop next door, but Race doesn’t even look back, gesturing for them to go on without him without turning even once.

“You should go with them,” you say as indifferently as you can.

“Why?” Race asks, cocking his head to the side, “I’ve got a far prettier sight in front of me right now.”

You roll your eyes, but even you can feel the slight heat pricking your cheeks. “You’re insufferable.”

“Apparently not,” Race muses, “or you wouldn’t be smiling at me.”

You do your best to hide the offensive expression away, but your best attempts at staying serious just make your smile more stubborn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he says happily, “it’s not just because of me, is it? I bet Y/N L/N would never be susceptible to something like a boy.”

“Not even to a cute boy?” You ask, eyes wide with pretend surprise.

This, of all things, makes Race stutter over his words. You didn’t think it would be possible for Race to get nervous over someone flirting with him, but apparently you were wrong, because he’s all but shaking in his boots right now.

“That’s sweet of you,” he manages to eke out.

You grin. The tables have turned. “Funny,” you say, “I didn’t think Race Higgins would ever be susceptible to something like a girl.”

“I love it when you pay attention to me,” Race retorts, but it carries far less of the easy confidence he’d had earlier. In fact, Race looks like he can’t believe his eyes.

“I’m sure you do,” you muse, “Shame it doesn’t happen more often. If I knew you were going to react like this, maybe I would have started flirting back earlier.”

“I think you should keep doing it anyway,” Race whispers.

You laugh. “Only if you flirt back.”

“Oh, always, sweetheart, you know that,” Race says.

It’s easy to smile after that. Maybe Race has been flirting with you for a while, but maybe he’s meant what he said all along, too. It’s good that you’ll have plenty of time to figure him out, then. Yes, plenty of time indeed.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

#race #race imagines #race x reader #race oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #race higgins #race higgins imagines #race higgins x reader #race higgins oneshot #newsies race #newsies race imagines #newsies race x reader #newsies race oneshot

[loving-jack-kelly]

personally. and this might just be me. but personally. i think that Jack and Race could both have saved enough to move on if they wanted. i think you see it in the things they have: how Jack always has art supplies just a little bit nicer than he'd be able to steal with worrying about being caught. how Race lets himself take pride in his appearance, his vest matching his pants and his pocket square always net and clean.

i think the real thing that stops them from going anywhere is loyalty and trust and the bond that comes with growing up like this. there are always older kids who can spare a nickel for dinner when a little kid has a bad day selling. there are always older kids around to patch up a skinned knee and the torn pants that come with it. there are always older kids around to promise that things will getter better, get easier, turn into something they can handle. Jack and Race both relied on those older kids when they were little, and they know there are little kids who are relying on them. and it's barely even a question, you know?

sure, they could save that quarter for themselves, or they could quietly pay Kloppmann with it to make sure everyone gets inside when it's supposed to snow. they could put those last few pennies away, or they could buy enough food to split with the kids who had a bad day. they could be saving to chase their dreams, or they could go to the doctor and get something for the ten-year-old who hasn't been able to stop coughing for two months and still needs to be out in the cold selling if he wants to survive.

and i think. personally. both Jack and Race talk a big game about it all, love to be blowhards and braggarts and act like one day, just you see, we'll leave all of you behind and find something better. but really. honestly. they and everyone know that there's something to these relationships that makes leaving a lot harder than saving money. so instead they show it in their little ways. Race is a smooth-talking gambler who could win a hand of poker against a politician and talk somebody into spending their last penny on yesterday's news, but he's also been one of these kids since he was young and scrawny and fighting to survive. how could he abandon them when they never abandoned him? and Jack is a charmer who knows just how to push the right buttons, just how to flirt and just how to make up a convincing headline, but he's been one of these kids since he lost everything and didn't know how to keep his head above water. how could he let them down when they're the only people who have never, ever let him down?

and that's why, personally. I think Jack and Race are still here because they care, not because they have to be.

#also btw. london race is the Most valid stage Race. no further questions #ben cook is wonderful. ryan breslin is wonderful. josh barnett understands smth fundamental abt race that idk if I can even articulate #the whole london cast just. they get it. i swear it's like they pulled the newsies that exist in my brain out of imagination land and into #reality lmao. especially michael's jack oh my god. oh my god his jack. anyway #newsies #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #west endsies

[youaintnothinbuta]

— racetrack higgins boyfriend hcs —

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

pairing: race higgins x fem!reader

warnings: none

A/N: feel free to request a specific trope of hcs, maybe some nsfw ones next ?? Hope you enjoy <3

• gets outwardly defensive when the other newsies tease about him being affectionate towards you, but it just makes him hold you/your hand, etc even tighter

• quickly leans in to give you a peck on the cheek as he enters a hug

• ALWAYS makes you blow away the dandelion and refuses to let you share you wish “because then it won’t come true”

• going off of that, he likes to give you things. he can’t afford to buy anything, but stones in the shape of a heart, single flowers off the side of the road (even if it’s just a weed), etc he always gives you, like a bird collecting things for their mate

• TEASE IS HIS MIDDLE NAME

• He is SUCH a tease, loves teasing you both innocently and not so innocently ;)

• He folds so fast when you tease him back though

• tucks your hair behind your ears— he thinks you look adorable

• Constantly playing with your hair, twirling it round his finger, brushes the ends against his face

• Loves making you blush, especially in front of others. He’ll whisper certain things in your ear so only you can hear and then pull away and smirk as he watches the rouge creep up your neck and face and spread to your ears.

• Smirks whenever he catches you staring at him

• He loves tickling you. Annoyingly loves it. He just loves your giggle

• He would never be caught DEAD babytalking in front of anyone, especially not his newsie friends, but in private…he loves it

• He’s very street smart, which is nice because as a young woman you tend to be vulnerable to mugging, etc

• Racetrack Higgins: self proclaimed king of New York AND king of romance

• His biggest green flag is that even after months and months and YEARS of dating he will continue to flirt like he’s still trying to get you

#race #race higgins #race x reader #racetrack higgins #racetrack newsies #racetrack #race newsies #reader x race #racetrack x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #reader x racetrack #reader x racetrack higgins #newsies #newsies fanfic #newsies broadway #newsies fluff #headcanon #newsies imagine #newsies headcanons #newsies hcs #hcs #headcanons #newsboys #jeremy jordan newsies #newsies jack kelly #jack kelly newsies #the woild is yer erster #boyfriend hcs #ben cook #ben tyler cook

[cryingevanafton]

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

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

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

[crutchie-with-a-y]

A couple days late, BUT HAPPY 123RD ANNIVERSARY OF THE NEWSBOYS’ STRIKE OF 1899!!!

#newsies #newsies fandom #newsies fanfic #newsies fanfiction #newsies imagine #broadway #jack kelly #musicals #racetrack higgins #broadway musicals #newsies live #1992sies #race newsies #newsboy strike of 1899 #newsboy strike

[miryum]

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

[emmedoesntdomath]

Okay so I’ve seen the Delanceys

What about

My fave redhead hothead

Albert DaSilva🥰

albertttttttttt

so in uksies and livesies (maybeeee 92sies? I don’t know, I don’t really remember any specific moment), albert can be identified as the guy who’s just as loud as race, but who’s not race (yes, this was how I first picked him out while watching livesies a couple years ago, you can yell at me). and this makes sense, right? they’re best friends, both have a lot of swagger and cockiness to go around. but, as I’ve said previously, I’m a big fan of the one-sided ralbert and redfinch. so here’s my theory:

race and albert are best friends, for sure, but it’s very clear that race can and will be best friends with everyone who wants to be. and albert? well, albert is a jealous, hotheaded little shit (affectionate), and has never been the biggest fan of this. his solution? be as loud as possible so that race’s attention never leaves him. and- in his kind-of defense- it works sometimes.

but eventually, after a couple years, race moves on from just being friends with everyone to having his heart set on a specific someone (hint: it’s not albert). enter stage left, spot conlon, king of brooklyn. suddenly, race doesn’t care about how loud albert is, or his jokes, or his muscles. no, he wants to go to sheepshead more and more to maybe see the one person who could literally destroy him (and, subsequently, manhattan). and this? this? this destroys albert.

this leads into redfinch (after a lot of work on finch’s part, because albert fell in love with his best friend who didn’t love him back, and that shit hurt), and- don’t get me wrong- albert LOVES finch, and would never, ever want to leave him. their love is a lot more mature, a lot healthier than previous. but race was his first love, and well. habits are as habits always have been. so if you ever see a small, half-sad smile on his face after he throws an arm around race’s shoulders, or yells something back just as loud, there’s your reason why.

#oop that turned out a lot sadder than I meant it to #also the fact that I just took the tiniest moments of their screen time and went yes and started imagining this is so funny to me #newsies #92sies #uksies #albert newsies #finch newsies #racetrack higgins #ralbert #redfinch #spot conlon #race x spot #sprace #albert dasilva #emme’s bad ideas

[auspicious-manner]

hi! i love your stories, can you write a race x fem!reader where race and a couple of other newsies run from angry customers, hiding in a theater, and the performer completely entrances racetrack, dudes lovestruck?

i delayed posting this until today because IT’S BEN COOK’S BIRTHDAY YAY!!!

i love that boy with all my heart. he’ll forever be my racetrack. enjoy this race story in honor of ben’s 25th bday :))

female reader x race

warnings: none

Natural Talent

•

it was just an average day of paper selling for the group of newsies. the temperature was right, the sun was shining, and the air smelled like money. jack, race, albert, jojo, and finch could all feel it that day.

oddly enough, they all kind of liked days where the headline was boring. they could make up their own exciting headline to sell to the masses, and they could create their own storylines. race liked to contribute to the creativity of making a storyline, not necessarily coming up with his own dramatic headline. as a desperate newsie, that was a skill that he should have been born with.

as the day was coming to a close, it was time to amp up the selling tactics even more in order to get through every paper.

“papers, get ya papes here!” race yelled to the roaming citizens of new york city. not a single new yorker batted an eye or looked in his direction. race’s shoulders fell, his eyes turning into a sad puppy dog look. why couldn’t he make up a good headline?

jack rolled his eyes and scoffed, snatching the paper from race’s hand. “sing ‘em to sleep why don’t ya. this is how you do it, racer.”

jack stepped forward, and coughed to clear his throat. “homeless shelter set ablaze by angry city goers, biggest story of the year! you heard it here first, folks, get ‘em while they’re hot!” he yelled. a small line formed in front of him, and he took the coins graciously and handed them to race.

“how’re you so good at doing that, jack?” race asked, dumbfounded by jack’s natural ability to sell.

“he’s jack kelly, that’s how,” jojo said next to race.

“well i know that, i can see him.”

“it takes years of practice,” jack started after getting through the line of paper customers. “you’ll get better sooner or later. but for your sake, you better hope its sooner.”

albert stood next to the boys. “i’ve sold all my papes for today, i’m gonna head back to the lodging house. see you all soon,” he said, beginning to walk away.

“hey, this newspaper says nothin’ about a fire! what are you boys on about?” an old man yelled, waving his paper in the air furiously.

“he’s right! is this how you steal money from innocent women like me?” a lady said, coming up behind the man. they had rallied together a small crowd of angry newspaper customer, and the newsboys froze.

jack turned to albert, who had began walking away. the rest of the boys carefully shifted their glances towards jack for guidance.

the angry mob began approaching them, and the newsies slowly backed away.

“newsies… make a run for it!” jack screamed, taking off in the other direction. the boys all followed, and the angry mob took off in their direction.

jack took hold of albert’s arm as he was running, taking him along with the boys.

“man, i’se just wanted to get back to the lodgin’ house! why do i have to be apart of this?” albert whined to jack as his legs continued to run.

they ran far, hoping to lose the crowd of men behind them. jack led the boys through the alleys and back streets of new york, but it was no use.

jack turned to race, who was closest to him. “we need to split up. racer, take the boys to medda’s theater. the crowd wants me, so i’ll lead them away and meet you there. okay?” he whispered, barely out of breath and not breaking a sweat. race looked at him in awe.

“yeah… no problem,” race heaved, picking up his pace to lead the boys as jack swerved around another corner.

why’d he have to leave this up to me? race thought. do i look like leader material?

he whipped around to see the boys behind him, and that was it. the crowd had followed jack, and all race could hope for was that they didn’t catch up to jack.

the group approached the back door of medda’s theater, and they quickly ran inside and shut the door behind them. they had found themselves in the wings of the bright stage.

“where’d jack go?” finch asked in between breaths. the group leaned against the door, looking out into the theater ahead of them. it looked like a show was just about to start.

race lowered his voice. “jack was going to lead the crowd away. he wanted me to take you all here.”

jojo frowned. “jack put you in charge? for what reason?”

race shrugged, unsure of the answer himself. “beats me.”

“you boys gettin’ into trouble again?” a lady’s voice called out, causing the boys to snap their heads around. it was medda with a knowing smile on her face.

“hi miss medda,” albert said, still regaining his breath.

“where’s jack?” she asked, suddenly getting worried.

“he’ll be back here soon, he was leadin’ away the angry mob followin’ us,” race said maybe a bit too nonchalantly.

medda rolled her eyes. “i don’t even want to know what mob was following you kids this time. while you’re here, you better stick around for the show. i think it outta be something you boys would like,” she said with a grin. she winked before heading onstage as the curtain rolled up, revealing the audience.

the boys took a seat backstage mere inches away from being visible to the audience. race’s eye caught a girl on the other side of the wings, who glanced shyly away when she noticed he was staring. he wondered who it was.

“now, folks, prepare to be wowed by this next act. at only sixteen years of age, her talent is beyond what anyone would expect out of her tiny frame. she’s new to my theater, but i hope you all will give her a warm welcome. introducing the fabulous Y/N L/N!”

the crowd cheered, and the lights went down as medda ran off stage and the girl in the wings slowly walked out to the microphone. she had a certain poise and way of carrying herself that kept race entranced.

the lights lit the room up again, and race carefully watched the girl onstage. he came to the conclusion that this was the girl he had made eye contact with just moments before.

the music began, and it was a song he didn’t recognize. he watched as the girl gently swung side to side, her long velvet dress and her long, straight hair swaying with her. Y/N settled herself back to the center of the microphone, and she began to sing.

race noticed that her voice wasn’t very operatic, which he enjoyed. it was warmer, and had different nuances and layers that was new and refreshing to his ears. Y/N carried herself elegantly, and race could tell that she trusted her instincts while singing. she was very beautiful to look at, and even more beautiful to listen to.

to race, it looked like she wasn’t even nervous, and she didn’t have to think too hard about what she was doing. she was a natural.

race was so focused on this mysterious girl that he didn’t even notice jack had arrived and was sitting behind him. he placed a hand on race’s shoulder, and he turned his head around.

“i think i lost ‘em,” jack started. “who’s that?” he asked, pointing to the stage.

“her name is Y/N. she’s a new performer at medda’s, and she’s absolutely stunning.”

jack laughed at race’s comment, but he was cut off by medda.

“will you boys just relax and watch the show?”

“sorry miss medda,” jack whispered, scooting away from race.

race’s eyes fixated on the girl singing once again. if he were in a cartoon, he’d have hearts in his eyes. the world around him seemed to fade, and it felt like the only ones in the room were him and Y/N. is this what love at first sight feels like?

race made sure to soak in every word she sang, for he didn’t know the next time he’d be able to see her perform.

when her last note rang out, the noise happily lingered in race’s ear. the room went silent before an eruption of applause began. he slowly clapped, still coming down from his high.

Y/N walked off stage towards the boys, and race’s heart rate quickened. she immediately went to medda’s side without giving the boys a glance.

“she was somethin’, wasn’t she?” jojo asked rhetorically.

“her voice was beautiful,” albert started. he looked over at race, who was still lost in his own world. a smirk appeared on his face. “how ‘bout you, race? what’d you think of the show?”

race didn’t reply.

“racer!” jack yelled as loud as he could without being disruptive. race blinked and sat up before turning around.

“what? what did you say?” race asked quickly.

finch laughed. “did you like the show? seems like you grew a little attached to that girl.”

race looked over to the girl who was still speaking with medda.

“yeah, i liked it. i liked it a lot,” he replied back sheepishly, still staring at Y/N.

the boys looked between themselves, all thinking the same thing.

“race, i can’t keep watchin’ you admire this girl from a distance. go on and talk to her,” jack said, standing up and reaching his hand down for race to take.

race looked up, wide eyed. he took it and reluctantly stood up. “i don’t know if i can.”

jack smiled. “sure you can!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arm around race’s shoulder and guiding him to medda and Y/N. race was mortified.

the pair stood by the girls, and Y/N turned her head to look at them. she gave them a small smile, before medda began to introduce the boys to her.

“Y/N, this is jack and racetrack,” medda said, pointing to them. jack waved, and race kept his eyes focused on the girl.

“i’ll leave you kids be, i need to greet the audience. my work never stops,” medda said while laughing, walking out of the wings to go walk around the theater.

jack and race looked back at Y/N, who was beginning to look a little awkward.

“you sounded great out there, kid. i’ll leave you and racer by yourselves, he’s the one that wanted to talk to you. see ya later!” jack exclaimed before patting race’s back and walking away.

race stood in front of the girl of his dreams appalled at jack for leaving him alone. he’s never had experience with girls, how was he supposed to handle a conversation with one as gorgeous and as talented as her?

her waiting and compelling eyes stayed locked on race, and he turned his head to meet her gaze.

“i-i’m race,” he asked nervously.

she playfully smiled. race took note of the way her nose crinkled a bit when she grinned.

“i’ve heard,” she started. “i’m Y/N. i’ve never heard a name quite like racetrack.”

he sighed. “it’s just a nickname.”

there was an awkward silence.

“you were amazing out there. i’ve never heard a voice so beautiful in my life,” he said, filling the void.

she turned red. “gosh, you’re too kind,” she said shyly, looking down. “before i went on, i believe you were the one i saw from across the stage, right?”

race was shocked that she even remembered a small detail like that. “yes, that was me. i didn’t think you’d ever take notice of me.”

she shrugged and stepped a bit closer. “why not?”

race’s heart rate picked up, and he looked down at the girl. “you quickly looked away when i saw you. but not only that, i’m a newsboy, you’re a talented singer, i didn’t think it’d ever work.”

“i’m sorry about that, i was just nervous,” Y/N began. “maybe you need to rethink us working, race,” she whispered. the backstage lights caught her eyes just right, and they sparkled with a newfound feeling of intrigue.

race stared down at her, unsure of what to do next. “you’re really pretty,” he said, breathless.

she blushed again. “you’re cute.”

now it was race’s turn to get all red. his moment of bliss was interrupted by the guys coming up behind him.

“excuse us, miss,” albert said behind race. “we need to take our boy away for a few minutes. it’s newsboy stuff.”

the boys dragged him away, and he looked behind him to see Y/N confused. race closed his eyes, feeling defeated.

“what was that for? i was getting somewhere with Y/N!” race exclaimed.

“we just wanted to ask you how things were goin’ over there,” jack asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“it’s none of your business. i’m gonna go back over there, and you guys aren’t going to interrupt me ‘till i’m done. you hear?”

“…so it is goin’ good?” jojo said. race rolled his eyes and left the group of boys.

“sorry about that, they’re a little distractin’ sometimes,” race said, coming back to the girl.

“it’s quite alright. where were we?”

race thought about it for a few moments. “i’m not sure.”

Y/N laughed. “that’s okay, i forgot too.”

“how’d you get into singin’? you could be makin’ it big with a voice like that,” race said, sparking up conversation. he liked flattering Y/N, because every time he did she would smile like she didn’t already know she was amazing.

“as a little girl, i would sing whenever i felt any kind of emotion. my mother loved it. then, when my parents died, i was living on the streets. i used singing as an escape.”

Y/N looked down. race’s expression softened at the sight of her.

“i sang to make money. then, miss medda discovered me and took me in. she gave me lessons, and a place to earn money. and thats how this all started.”

race raised his eyebrows. “i’m sorry to hear about your parents. i lost mine a while ago too.”

Y/N sighed. “it’s alright, i-”

she was interrupted by medda telling her there were important people in the audience that wanted to meet her.

race felt his stomach drop. “i don’t want this to be the last time i see you,” race said sadly.

Y/N bit her lip. “it won’t be. stop by tomorrow night for another show. we can talk some more then.”

race nodded. “i will. i sell papes a few blocks down, you can stop by there durin’ the day if you want.”

she nodded. “i just might have to.” she stepped closer and stood on her toes to place a gentle kiss on race’s cheek. “goodbye race.”

race felt like melting right then and there. his heart felt like it grew. “goodbye Y/N.”

#ben tyler cook #newsies x reader #newsies imagine #race newsies #racetrack newsies #racetrack higgins #newsies fanfiction #newsies #race x reader

[toecheesitz]

ok — i’m looking for another fanfic.

I’m looking for a specific fic but if you have any Racetrack x reader Newsies fics from 2018-2019 pls share them and i’ll love you forever.

Ok — so the fic was y/n was having a panic attack or smthing and Jack comes in to help them but it’s not working. So he’s like “someone get Race” and Race drops what he’s doing and runs in to help the reader.

Please and thank you <3

#x reader #fanfiction #lost fic #please help #help lol #newsies #newsies x reader #Racetrack #race higgins #racetrack higgins #racetrack x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #race higgins x reader #imagine #racetrack imagine #newsies imagines #newsies headcanons #help finding a fic

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Davey: Is Jack here???

Race: Uh, you know what-?

Jack: *jumps out the window*

Race: -he just left

#newsies #newsies 1992 #incorrect newsies quotes #jack kelly #ok but imagine that jack confessed and is just freaking out #so he’s avoiding Davey at all costs #javid newsies #seize the day #newsies stage show #racetrack higgins #davey jacobs #race has had it with these idiots #I don’t know when or why this would happen #but we’ve all been here #scott pilgrim #knives #wallace wells #we all need a cool gay friend #race is that friend #defenestration #newsies musical #musicals #JUST TELL HIM HOW YOU FEEL JACK #No punctuation makes for awkward sentences #jack avoiding Davey so Pulitzer won’t go after him #they’re in love your honor

[heliads]

:D yay!!! I love your Newsies stuff sm (and yes you absolutely should rewatch its amazing). If you have time could you maybe write a Race x fem!reader where she's like Spot's second command and kinda like the "mum" of the Brooklyn kids - they go to her for like comfort and when they have injuries or have problems etc. And she's kinda reserved and such but became friends with Race from when he'd spend time in Brooklyn, and after the strike (during like KONY I guess) he goes to find her to ask for her help like getting everyone fixed up and the like, and at some point from there onwards it's like FEELINGS yknow? No worries if not! Only if you're inspired and have time and such :) I love your writing - you're so v talented xx

grateful for your support in my rewatching newsies agenda. anything for you anon xoxo

masterlist

There’s a newsie from Manhattan wandering your streets again. He’s not supposed to be crossing over into Brooklyn like this, none of them are, but for some reason that hasn’t stopped Race Higgins from showing up time and time again. 

It’s not like this should really matter. Shouldn’t, anyway. Brooklyn is messy and getting messier. One particularly plucky Manhattan boy shouldn’t have an impact on what you’re doing on a day to day basis. Spot’ll do some nonsense involving a good threat or two to scare the guy off. This sort of thing happens once a month, but Brooklyn always ends up on top. Always.

That hasn’t seemed to sway Race, though. Last time he tried this, one of the other Brooklyn generals was in a fighting mood and nearly left the blond with a black eye had you not stepped in and put a stop to the scuffle before it started. No one needed any more trouble when you’ve already got so much as is, or so you claimed.

Truth be told, you’re not really sure why you helped Race out. It’s not like you’ve got any particular fondness for the guy, he keeps bothering you whenever he sneaks over the turf boundaries. It’s like he has a sixth sense for figuring out where you are whenever you’re selling papes. Even when you tell him to bug off and leave you alone, he’ll just start selling half a block down from you, or right across the street. Just close enough that you can see the trademark grin on his face when you roll your eyes and do your best to ignore him.

At the end of the day, it’s not something that should be the pull of too much of your attention. It’s Race, for goodness’ sake, not a rogue Delancey brother or someone who could actually cause you grief. Race just wants to make you laugh, which is weird of him to do but not actually dangerous.

Dangerous is the rest of Brooklyn. Dangerous is what waits for Race when he’s not halfway in your shadow. Dangerous is what made you Spot Conlon’s second in command when there were so many other newsies vying for the title. You know dangerous, and you know how to handle it, how to keep your boys safe. That’s what you should be focusing on the most, not errant Manhattan newsboys who keep getting alarmingly close to making you crack a smile.

But. Well. It is easier to think of boys than trouble. Boys try to make you laugh, for the most part. They don’t come back under the cover of the dead of night, bloody and trembling, talking to you about cops and thugs busting up strikes, about workers from the Refuge who want to brazenly take kids off the street just so they can keep up their numbers. They didn’t always.

Then they did, and suddenly you weren’t quite so easy with your temper and gait anymore. Race was usually quick to a smile, a laugh, a joke. He’d offer you a cigar free of charge, then swear like a sailor at any other boy who tried to even look at his prized possession. You were different, he didn’t want to trouble you. 

So he said. Didn’t stop him from hanging outside your window until you climbed onto your fire escape just to get him to stop throwing pebbles at the dusty glass. You might have spent more than an hour outside that night, and the next one, and the next, but it was only so he’d let the others rest. You falling asleep on his shoulder at least once, then waking to find his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, was pure coincidence.

Race was always carefree. It was his job, you think, his role to play amongst the Manhattan newsies, just as yours was to keep track of your Brooklyn kids. Race used to tease you relentlessly about how the Brooklyn newspaper distribution system would completely grind to a standstill if you so much as got a cold.

It wasn’t entirely a joke, it was true. Race knew it. The two of you could hardly talk for longer than ten minutes before a boy or twelve would come up to you, asking for help on something else. He saw how long you faked your smiles just for the happy expression to start fading into an exhausted sigh whenever no one was around but him. You liked your position in the newsie ranks, truly you did, but it drained everything from you.

Sometimes it felt like it was just you and Spot fighting a losing war trying to keep all of your boys out of trouble. You teach them to be tough and loud and unapproachable, but it will never be enough? How could it be, in this city? Race tells his jokes and you laugh and you try not to pretend that everything is falling to ribbons. At least then you could marvel at the colors.

Still. Race stayed. Longer than you expected, in all honesty. You kept waiting for him to have his fun and leave you to your city that never sleeps, but he came around and it felt more natural by the day. Instead of being surprised that he showed up, you started feeling confused if a week went by without you seeing him.

And, when two newsies come to Brooklyn from Manhattan talking about a strike, and neither one of them is Race but both of them need your help anyway, you listen. More than Spot, at least. Spot gets wind of trouble and he shuts down their plea in an instant. Despite the fact that you think this is the best chance any of you will have to change something around here, Spot can’t risk his guys.

You never know when someone will back out without telling you, he tells you later, and then all of you would be stuck out there on the front lines without backup. The ace without the sleeve up which to hide. Brooklyn kids are tough, and they wouldn’t run, but who knows a damn thing about anyone else?

It made you want to scream and cry and run out there anyway, just to prove a point. You heard how the strike went later, how no one showed up except the Manhattan boys because no other borough would come without Brooklyn’s express approval. You catch whispers and threads of the story, but you don’t learn the whole thing until Race shows up.

He’s alone this time, beaten and bruised. You flinch when you see him, even though he’s not swinging. The look in his eyes, though– that’s enough to leave you bloody.

Race puts a hand on your shoulder. The knuckles are bruised, and you try not to notice the spatterings of skin already turning a mottled purple and green. “It’s not your fault. Jackie boy told me you tried to convince Spot to join us.”

You frown, look away. “You got hurt and we could have done something. That sounds an awful lot like I failed.”

Race shakes his head, puts a hand on your cheek so you have to look at him again. “I’m not here for that. This isn’t your fault, it’s his. Pulitzer’s. Him and those damn thugs. Not you.”

You nod slowly. It’ll take some time before you’re able to absolve yourself of the guilt, but you can try. “Let me get my first aid kit, I’ll come back with you, try to patch some of the kids up. Can I assume that a lot of them are worse than you?”

Race’s expression drops. “Yeah. The thugs came hitting pretty hard.”

“Well,” you say in an attempt to cheer him up, “I’d wager it’s because they knew your lot were the toughest around.”

Race cracks a smile, even though you’re sure it must be painful. “Oh, absolutely. I’d topple a building with a single punch.”

You can’t help but cast another worried look towards his hands. Damaged, bruised, and they had tipped his cap towards you just a morning or two ago. Race always liked to playact a gentleman when you were around. As if any of you have money or morals to spare. The only mansion you’ve got is the wide sky above you, the expensive habits of running too fast on green grass. Your gold is a rusty coin or two, your finery hand-me-down clothes. Your mockery of manners is the closest you’ll get to that sort of lifestyle, but it was always fun to fake it, anyway.

“No more punches,” you tell him. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Race retorts, “we’ve got to be out there again tomorrow for the strike. We’se not giving up so easily.”

The thought makes your stomach twist. Race, back out there, ready to get dealt another blow. Maybe this time he won’t be able to pick himself up so easily. Maybe this time he won’t be able to pick himself up at all.

No. You won’t let it happen. This is still your city, damn it, and you have not spent all these years sweating out your sunrises and sunsets to keep it informed just for the last bits of your control to be ripped out from between your desperate fingers.

“You won’t be alone tomorrow,” you decide, “I’ll get Spot to join you.”

Race frowns. “Jack and Davey tried that already, I thought. He said no. Isn’t Spot a dead end at this point? Unless there’s something else you know to change his mind.”

You sigh. “You’re not wrong. I talked to him, though, after your boys left yesterday. I tried. As much as anyone can try to talk to Spot, y’know. I’ll try again, though. The choice he made was–” There are a lot of words you could attribute to Spot’s decision to stay out of the strike. Stupid. Pointless. Backstabbing. You end up saying something a little more polite. “Not what I agreed with, to say the least.”

Race’s lips quirk up in a half smile. “Glad to hear it. I always liked it best when you were on our side.”

You snort. “I’se a Brooklyn newsie, remember? I don’t think we was ever on the same side.”

Race shrugs. “Maybe not in a turf war, but other times we got along just fine.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Race grins, leans a little closer to you. It feels like your whole world is tunneling– you can look at his eyes or his lips, but not both, and it’s enough to make you dizzy. “The last month or two, I swear you almost liked me. Sure, you’re a tough girl if anyone asks, but I know what I know.”

“And what do you know?” You ask carefully. It takes every fiber of focus in your being to keep breathing, chasing every word he says like a high price headline.

Race tilts his head to the side, considering this. Considering you. “I know that you’ve been hanging around me more and more. I know that you aren’t trying to run anymore. I know that no Brooklyn newsie sticks their neck out for someone from ‘Hattan unless they’ve got a pretty good reason. Most importantly, I know that I want to kiss you, but only if you want that too. Do you?”

He’s so close to you now, practically a breath away. Just enough room for you to run if you wanted to, but also for you to do something else, something you’ve been thinking about even when you swore you wouldn’t.

“I do,” you breathe, and that’s all Race needs to lean forward and kiss you at last. He tastes like blood and foolish hope and promises you know he’ll always keep. It’s a damn good mix, enough to make you kiss him again when he starts to break away.

This is how you keep him safe, then. You love him too much and you convince Spot to lend Brooklyn’s support by hook or by crook. You defend the strike and you defend your boy. There are a hundred reasons this could all go wrong, but thousands, thousands more, that all shout for you to keep going. 

Well, you’ve always liked a little bit of danger. Race is good trouble, and you are well inclined to keep him.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @amortensie

#race higgins #race higgins imagines #race higgins x reader #race higgins oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies race #newsies race imagines #newsies race x reader #newsies race oneshot #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live x reader #newsies live oneshot

[youaintnothinbuta]

— race higgins nickname hcs —

ೃ⁀➷ summary: hcs about the nicknames / pet names race would call you (with examples) !

pairing: race x fem!reader

warnings: none, a few are smutty but are not at all elaborated on

A/N: please feel free to request a specific trope of hcs (or anything else)

He’d call you:

• Sweetheart ; a common nickname, especially in New York, he’d use this one often and in most contexts

— Hey, sweetheart, how are you?

— “Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t have to do that for me!”

• Princess ; this one wouldn’t be used so broadly, he’d mainly use it in situations of affection, for example when you’re first waking up.

— “Good morning, princess, did you sleep okay?”

• Mama ; he would use this in a more flirty way, to suggest that you looked particularly sexy or were doing something to turn him on. Similar to daddy for men.

— “Woah, mama, you look good.”

— “Damn, mama, blue is your colour.”

• Darling ; he uses darling often, particularly in softer situations, so perhaps if something is wrong, or if he’s doing something for you.

— “I know, darling, you’re not feeling very well at the moment.”

— “Darling, let me do it. I got it.”

• Boss ; he’d use this occasionally and playfully when doing things for you, or whenever you were in charge of something like cooking or taking care of another person’s injury.

— “Race, can you get me the sugar please.” “On it, boss.”

— “Race, get your hands out of that.” “Sorry, boss.”

• Trouble ; this was a playful nickname that he’d call you as a joke, because it was so unlike you do to anything that could get you into trouble, but it sort of stuck.

— “Uh oh, careful, trouble’s here.” He’d tease as you arrived.

— “Hey, trouble, what are you up to.” He’d grab you and hold you close if you were walking around with that cheeky grin of yours.

• Cara mia ; this he’d use when he was feeling particularly romantic, when you looked particularly nice, or even sometimes in more intimate moments.

— “Cara mia, I love you.” He’d say as he held you by the waist before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

— “Oh, cara mia, you feel so good riding me like that.”

• Beautiful ; he’d use this often, simply because you are beautiful.

— “Come, beautiful, come sit down.”

— “There she is! My beautiful girl.”

• Doll ; doll he wouldn’t use a lot, but occasionally when you looked really nice or just as a replacement for ‘babe’

— “Hey, doll, you look nice.”

• Gorgeous ; again he’d use this simply because it is what he thinks you are- gorgeous.

— “Goodnight, gorgeous, I love you, sweet dreams.”

— “Shh, gorgeous, you’re okay, I’m here.”

Some nicknames you’d have for him (without examples):

• Racer

• Racey

• Blue

• Handsome

• Lover boy

• Babe

• Love

#newsies #newsies jack kelly #jack kelly newsies #newsies broadway #newsies imagine #racetrack newsies #race newsies #jack kelly #jeremy jordan newsies #jack kelly x reader #reader x race #racetrack higgins x reader #race x reader #racetrack x reader #race higgins #racetrack #race #racetrack higgins #reader insert #reader x racetrack higgins #reader x racetrack #reader x race higgins #race higgins fluff #race higgins headcanons #racetrack higgins fluff #racetrack headcanons #newsies headcanons #newsies fanfic #headcanons #newsies hcs

[ghostinacardboardbox-oldblog]

“Fine, you can use me as a pillow.” with Sprace!

This is one of the fluffiest things I’ve ever written. Enjoy.

Modern au Sprace go on a camping trip.

“Camping was a stupid idea,” Race said loudly.

“It was your idea.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who actually brought us out here.”

“Because you don’t have a car, Race.”

Race huffed. He looked around at the trees, up at the sky that was quickly getting darker, and complained, “There’s nothing to do out here.”

Spot looked up from the cooler full of canned drinks that he was digging through. “I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be part of the point. Go hiking or something.”

“It’s almost dark already, anyway. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Then get the sleeping bags out of the car. I’m gonna get some of these rocks out of the way.” In hindsight, they had probably picked the rockiest place they could possibly find as their campsite. Spot eventually ended up with a decent sized pile of stones and a relatively flat patch of ground, which would be fine.

It was not fine.

In hindsight, Spot should have expected Race to absolutely hate the whole sleeping under the stars thing. It had been a stupid idea.

“The ground’s too hard.”

“Yeah, it’s the ground, Race. What were you expecting?”

Race looked over at him. Their sleeping bags were side by side, separated by just a few inches.

Spot sighed. “Fine, you can use me as a pillow.” Seeming very pleased with himself, Race moved closer and put his head on Spot’s shoulder, who rolled his eyes. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

#I’m very bad at telling if something is in character or not but something tells me that this is extremely out of character for both of them #can you tell i don’t normally write these characters #can you tell ive never written this ship #probably #bon apple teeth #newsies #92sies #livesies #If you must desperately know which versions of the character I picture #livesies Race but with darker hair and then movie Spot but more buff is how I always imagine these two #newsies fanfiction #writing requests #ghost posts from their box #ghost gets asks #requests for ghost #fanfiction requests #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #my writing

[crutchie-with-a-y]

breakfast duty

The sun peaked through the windows of the Newsie Lodging House so bashfully it reminded Jack of one of the younger newsies poking their little head through a door to ask him for something. But the morning was not asking for anything, it was forcibly reminding him that there was a new day here, which was less adorable. Jack rolled over and sat up in his bed in one fluid motion, having done it enough times over the years to not hit his head on Race's bunk above him. He peered around the room to see if anyone else was awake yet as he dug under his bed for clothes and his shoes. Specs was slowly beginning to stir, but JoJo, Tommy Boy, Henry, Finch, Crutchie, Mush, and Albert were all still sound asleep. Jack pulled a shirt over his shoulders and slid on a clean(ish) pair of trousers before slipping on his shoes. As he laced them up, Jack heard Race groan loudly. In doing he so, he stirred some of the still sleeping newsies, which garnered a round of 'shuddap's and "can't ya see i's sleepin's and even a few chucked pillows in response. Jack chuckled.

"You're on breakfast duty, Racer," He said, slapping the bottom of Race's bunk as he stood up. Race sat up, his hair disheveled and a blanket hanging off half of his head.

"What? Why?"

"Because Earl is still too sick to do it and Specs and I have already done it." Race groaned.

"Ain't nowhere in the lease did it say that if the landlord was sick I's got to make breakfast." He said, throwing his feet over the bunk and rummaging through the pile of clothes on top of his covers.

"That's 'cause most people don't need a legal document to remind 'em to do what's right. They's got common sense," Specs responded, tapping the side of his temple. The still half-asleep newsies laughed.

"Ay, ay guys be nice!" Albert walked over and patted Race's back as he grumpily hopped down from his bunk. "You know's Race lost in common sense in a bet on a losing horse yeeeears ago!" The newsies roared with laughter so loud it shook the window panes.

"It was a sure thing!" Race shouted in his defense as he stormed out out of the room.

Jack grinned. Despite the complaints, it was proving to be a pretty good morning. And as long as Race didn't try to get revenge by poisoning the oatmeal, there would be a tolerable breakfast too.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #newsies race #race newsies #racexreader #racetrack higginsxreader #newsies imagine #newsies canon au #newsies headcanons #newsies live #1992sies #specs newsies #finch newsies #jojo newsies #tommy boy newsies #albert newsies #albert dasilva #henry newsies #crutchie newsies #crutchie morris #mush newsies #newsies fandom #newsies fanart #davey jacobs #katherine pulitzer #katherine plumber

[hellfirenacht]

Players Wanted: Session 0

Fic Summary: Various Readers ask to join Hellfire. Eddie Munson x Reader

A new semester meant that Hellfire Club was now open for new members again. It was rare that anyone new joined Hellfire in any permanent capacity during the Spring semester, but not completely unheard of. Grant had shown up in the middle of Spring his freshman year, having been a transfer from outside of Hawkins after all. 

But this wasn’t just any Spring semester, this was the Spring Semester of 1986, baby! This was Eddie’s final year, the finish line, everything that he had worked so damn hard for over the past six years. Nothing was going to stop him, not Higgins, not his dad, not this damn town that was turned against him. 

This was finally going to be his year. 

And with this being his year, Eddie had been working hard on his final campaign. This was going to be his grand finale, one that he had been pouring his heart and soul into over the past few months. The Cult of Vecna. 

Of course, with this being the end of an era for Hellfire Club, Eddie wanted to go out with the best party imaginable. He was going to throw everything he could into this, be as sadistic and hard on his players as he could. They could handle it, they’d been playing with him long enough that he knew exactly what they could handle. His little sheepies weren’t about to back down from a challenge. 

The new semester also meant refreshing club applications for the last time. Normally Eddie didn’t bother, if it wasn’t broke then don’t fix it. The applications had stayed the same over the last few years. HELLFIRE CLUB. ADVENTURERS WANTED. Fill out your name, race, and class and come by the drama storage room on Friday. 

This wasn’t amateur hour though, and Eddie wasn’t here to babysit any new players. For this last campaign, he wanted everyone in his party to be on the same level, same playing field, same knowledge of the rules, so a little tweaking was in order. 

ONLY EXPERIENCED ADVENTURERS!

If he was going to be completely honest with himself, even if someone showed up with minimal knowledge he’d probably still let them in. He needed to train the future leaders of Hellfire how to handle the next generation of Freaks anyway. Jeff wasn’t the most patient with newbies, but he’d have to learn. Gareth was also starting to ask questions about DMing now, and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how Hellfire would fare after Eddie’s graduation. 

If someone showed real interest, then they’d be allowed in. Which brought Eddie to the second new addition to the application. 

*Give this completed form to Eddie Munson in the Hawkins highschool lunchroom 

There. He’d had his share of bogus applicants in the past, just trying to be funny and waste his time. If you were going to join the Freak Show, you were going to show up center stage and ask the Dungeon Master himself. 

Satisfied, Eddie took the stack of applications and set them on the table in the main hall of the high school, next to the other stacks of applications for all the other clubs in school. 

As he turned the corner to head to his first period, he didn’t notice another person pick up the Hellfire Club application... 

Welcome to my mini series! Each chapter will have a different type of Reader asking to join Hellfire club! I am trying to keep it to one type of reader per chapter, so one Shy, one Popular, one Cheerleader, one Freak, etc! However I really want this to be interactive, so either fill out the form and drop it in my inbox or leave a comment to let me know what kind of Reader you want to see, and you’ll get more likely to be picked if you give me more detail! 

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Master List

And if you’re thinking “Rachel, don’t you have like, 4 other series you should be working on?” think about other things instead, please. 

Welcome to Hellfire. 

#nacht fic #Eddie Munson x Reader