#racetrack higgins x reader

[amoreva]

SPIDERS AND THREAD

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: racetrack higgins x reader

summary: race has been flaking on dates more and more. you think he’s cheating until he shows up bloody, bruises and in a hero costume, one evening.

warnings: blood, cursing, description of stitching

a/n: ending is a little meh and i couldn’t think of a title. i’ll try to revise it later.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

Race is rushing to your table from the restaurant, tugging on his jacket in a hurry. Your head titled in slight confusion.

“Race…?”

Race snapped his head towards you. The apology written all over his face masking the urgency. “My uh…mom called.” Race explained hurriedly. “She—fell down the stairs and I gotta go to—”

He’s been doing this often, but you shouldn’t throw out accusations. Just be a supportive girlfriend. “Hey, hey—I get it. Make sure she’s okay.” You spoke sympathetically. Your hand on his arm rubbing it comfortingly.

Race gave you a weary smile. He hates leaving you early on dates especially when you look so pretty in your outfit. He felt terribly guilty. You got dolled up for him and he had to go…

“I love you.” Race kissed you quickly and ran out of the restaurant.

Does he though?

You’re sitting at your desk, mindlessly moving the swivel chair side to side. Thoughts running through your head. The events of the day replaying itself out. You were supposed to be studying for your test, but…you can’t help but think about the date.

It’s not the first time Race ended a date early because something important came up. The first time it happened was because Albert was throwing up a lot. Then it was Jack needed him ASAP for a project and so on.

You’ve seen this happen to one of your friends; literally watched the events unfold before you. Your friend’s girlfriend kept canceling dates or leaving earlier because of something that came up. Turns out the girl was hooking up with some other guy behind your friend’s back.

Race wouldn’t do that, right? The sweet, charming guy that brings you little trinkets that remind him of you? No way in hell would Race cheat.

You scoffed just thinking about Race hooking up with another person. So, you rationalized these thoughts, it was late and you were thinking about this too much, overthinking it. Your mind is just making up stuff to keep you awake to study for your exam next week. That’s right.

Suddenly, a quiet creaking from your window grabbed your attention. Your curtains had been closed since you’ve got home from the spoiled date. You grab the nearest blunt object to throw. The dark figure on the other side of the window, slid it open.

A soft groan escaped the figure. It never occurred to you it could be your roommate. Your sleep-deprived, adrenaline filled brain screamed at you, “Robber, thief, murderer, stranger danger—!”

So, you threw your blunt object as soon as you caught sight of a head. A small yelp escaped your lips. You prayed to whoever you wouldn’t die tonight. You haven’t even finished re-watching Superstore yet.

The figure tumbled into your apartment, catching the object without even looking. “Get out, get out, get out!” You shouted and threw one of your textbooks at the person like they were a bug on the walls.

The figure caught it again and quickly put their free hand up. “Hey, hey! I’m not going to hurt ya’!” The figure stated quickly as they saw you holding a second book. “Please, stop throwing things.” You shrunk behind the book you held like a scared child.

“Who—?” You asked nervously. Intricate details of webs on the costume. Red and blue colors. A spider sewn onto the chest. It is a dead give-away. One of their hands was pressed against his abdomen. Blood oozing out, soiling their costume. Holy fuck. Why was Spiderman in your room? How did he even get here? Did he just stumble upon your apartment? Oh god, and he is hurt.

“What—?” Before you can even ask a question, Spiderman tugged off his mask. Soft blonde curls damp with sweat. Blue eyes filled with exhaustion and affliction. A sheepish smile on his lips.

“Suprise.” Race said dryly.

He thought it’d be better for you to know now instead of later and…he doesn’t think he can catch another book.

“Oh my god—Race!” You launch out of your desk chair to the blonde. Panic running through your veins, your hands cupping his face like he’s fragile. Then it clicks, you realize it isn’t anyone’s blood and wounds, it is Race’s. Race is hurt—how can he just…how?

Your boyfriend. The man who can’t stand spiders, especially daddy long legs, is Spiderman. Spiderman. The fucking vigilante swinging around New York. Is this why he ends dates early? Because he is Spiderman?

You don’t want to believe it, but Race is right here in front of you. Your blue-eyed lover subconsciously leaned into your warm touch. “M’okay.” Race mumbled and kissed the palm of your hand. The comfort of your touch distracting him from the pain. “Just…need your help patching up.”

You went into overdrive. The information you learned was overwhelming. How long has he been doing this? How bad are his injuries? Will he be okay? There are so many risks to this. Spiderman? How can he do what he does?

Your hands were too afraid to touch his upper body as you looked over him. “God…oh—how did..? You’re bleeding a lot…and you look so tired and….how bad is—? I don’t know what to do—! Fuck…you’re bleeding a lot. That wound is huge and—”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Race grabbed your attention from your stupor with the nickname. “Calm down. I’ll walk you through everything. Can you help me to the bathroom?”

Your eyes soften, but his words don’t reassure you. “Mhm.” You pressed your lips together, the worry evident in your eyes as you helped Race to the bathroom. He leaned against the counter.

The first aid kit is under the sink. Race is peeling off the top half of his suit. A wince escaped him as the spandex stuck to his large gash. He ripped it away like a bandaid causing you to cringe. There is dried blood, sweat and dust all over his toned body—which you will not admit you stared at a little too long.

“I would’ve done this myself, but—it hurt to swing any more. I mean, it felt like my body was being torn apart.” He softly said, trying to decrease the situation on why he was here in this getup. A soft blush on his face. It is clear he still felt bad about earlier that evening.

Only a man like Race would blush when he has a gaping wound in his side. “I don’t need your excuses—I just need to help patch you up.” Your eyes hardening after you take a shaky exhale.

Questions and thoughts racing (hah.) your mind. Was this convenient or was this pity for earlier? This is kind of ridiculous—you were dating Spiderman. Race is Spiderman. He could’ve told you—said something so you wouldn’t think the worst of the worst. So you could help him from hurting himself further.

“Okay.” Race nodded slowly. He noticed your snappy comments. He masked the worry and guilt. “Douse a rag in rubbing alcohol and—gently clean my wound, please.”

Race walked you through the steps of how to clean a wound. Your boyfriend had bit into a rolled up hand towel to muffle his agony. Tears brimming his eyes at the stinging. Luckily, the bleeding stopped. It looked slightly less gross than it did before, and it was done quickly.

Your annoyance, anger dissipates for a moment. You look at your boyfriend who removed the hand towel from his mouth. “I—I don’t know how to stitch.”

Race nodded, his head glistening with sweat from the enduring the pain. “You know how to sew though. Just—sew.” He mumbled.

“Race…that—that’s not the same, I can’t just—why don’t we go to an actual hospital? They know better than you or I.” You tried to rationalize.

“Can’t.” Race shook his head, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. “I can’t—my blood work and genetics are fucked—please, sweetheart.”

Race begged softly. It seem the blood loss got to him. “I need you to do it. Please. I trust you. Please.”

You grabbed his hand, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. “Okay…” You say almost inaudibly. Race brings your hand to his lips, a silent thank you. Just like before, Race has a rag in his mouth. Hand gripping your shoulder. His eyes closed shut as your dominant hand delicately holding a needle. The other was on his side. Race shivered at your touch. “Don’t move to much, okay?”

Race hummed in agreement. You pressed the needle to one end of the wound and punctuate the flesh. Race’s hand gripped your shoulder tightly, muffled sounds of pain escape him. You try to get this done quickly. In and out, through and through.

And pull.

You watch the wound close up together seamlessly. It sealed like a piece of cloth and look up at your tired boyfriend. His head immediately falls on your shoulder. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He whispered and kissed your neck once or twice.

Your eyes soften. You take Race’s face in your hands and bring his head in front of you. Lip quivering now that you finished stitching up your boyfriend. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—”

“Race, you’re Spiderman—and I didn’t know! You made me think—think that…” Your voice is shaky, overwhelmed with a number of emotions. Race is Spiderman—he could die at any point.“you were cheating—what if you didn’t come back from fighting a villain? I don’t want to go to a funeral. I can’t—not when it’s the love of my life.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Race hugged you tightly despite the pain blooming in his side. “I’m not going anywhere, or dying—god, I wouldn’t even think of cheating on you, y’know that?”

A few moments of silence.

“Help me.” He mumbled and put his arm over your shoulder. The two of you exit the bathroom. Race was doing a little bit better than before, but you still had to support his weight. You both sit on the bed, Race taking your hands.

“I wanted to tell you, more than anything in the world, but—” He paused. “But…I couldn’t let you get hurt or worse for knowing about me.”

His voice cracked slightly. “If—if you got killed because of me…I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I just—and what if you thought I was a freak. I—I can climb of walls for fucks sake and have a sixth sense—” All of the thoughts that kept him up at night spilling out.

“Race—you’re a superhero, shut up.” You stated bluntly. Sometimes Race just needed to hear things as is. You grabbed some joggers he left here and gave it to him. You were no longer anger or afraid, just tired. So tired.

A soft sight escaped you. “You’re tired, I’m tried—this conversation should be for tomorrow.”

Race’s lips parted slightly to retaliate, but a wave of exhaustion hits him. He changed into the grey joggers and got into your bed. You gravitate towards his body heat and bury your head into the crook of his neck. “My boyfriend is a goddamn superhero.” It sounded more in awe. You leaned up to kiss his lips. Race kissed back with a little more passion than intended. Race and you fall asleep in each others arms, knowing—

—at least for tonight, that everything will be okay.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

#newsies #uksies #racetrack higgins x reader #race x reader #racetrack x reader #racetrack newsies #race higgins #racetrack higgins #newsies x reader #newsies broadway #newsies fanfic #spiderman au #spiderman

[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

[sunno-needs-to-go-outside]

This isnt meant to be hateful or to dunk on people who write like this, but I am so TIRED of people writing newsie fics with a fem!reader or oc thats like "im different, im a girl newsie" or "i had to dress up as a boy to be a newsie" or "its so hard to be the ONLY GIRL newsie", bc yes, there were no girls that explicitly played girl newsies in the movie or musical, but girl newsies DID exist!! You can literally search it up!! The only reason people didnt really notice a lot of girl newsies during the strikes was bc most of them became "scabbers", it payed better and you werent allowed to hit girls, so they got off scot free. But before and likely after that, there were probably just as many girl newsies as there were boys. You can argue that you use these as a plot device to build tension or to create conflict but PLEASE IT IS SO OVERUSED AND UNORIGINAL BY NOW. And your reader or character doesnt HAVE to be a newsie, they can have other professions and things that make them an interesting character.

#not trying to dunk #i like how i said but then immediately dunked #i am how i am #but PLEASE stop doing this #for my sake #and the sake of the people who agree with me #newsies #newsies x reader #92sies #livesies #jack kelly x reader #david jacobs x reader #crutchie morris x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #spot conlon x reader #you can add more tags if you want #those are just the most popular ones i can think of #newsies oc #newsie oc

[whyareyouhere66]

Racetrack higgins hc??

Yes, of course- thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy! [and thank you for the follow bro <;3]

Racetrack Higgins Headcannons. [Gender Neutral Reader]

Includes both Romantic and Platonic- not as much platonic ones, I apologize for that.

Content Warnings: mentions of smoking

Romantic:

◘ I said this in a previous post to @mysemantics, and I’ll say it again- constant pet names. Probably 3 in one sentence. 

◘ When he see’s you, he’ll grin and open his arms wide and with a cigar in his mouth, loudly say something like “hello, angel, my darling, how’re we feeling this fine evening?” 

◘ Brags about you every chance he can get, to Jack, to Spot, basically anyone. It’s a common thing amongst the newsies- they like to brag. 

◘ Jokes around a lot, but that’s never once stopped him from being affectionate.

◘ He especially likes when he can just pull you into his lap and hold one arm around your waist, the other catching his cigar. Doesn’t matter if you are taller, shorter- he’ll do it anyways.

◘ He’s pretty touchy in a relationship, he’s most comfortable when he can lean on you, lay on you, hug you, etc.

◘ Any alone time you two often get, is closer to night time- perhaps early morning, or just the later afternoon. 

◘ You two will be strolling the streets, the sun just barely visible, talking about the most pointless of things for minutes to hours at a time.

◘ It comes to the point where you are walking loops around city blocks, weaving around the maze of buildings and paying more attention to each other and the sky than anything else.

◘ When the group goes down to Medda’s for a show, you will either be in his lap or next to him with his hand somewhere on you.

◘ Sometimes he’ll lean over and whisper, “I think you’d pull that off real nice,” or, “What’d’ya think, Angel? You wanna try that out some time?” And it’ll sound like a joke, in true Racetrack fashion- but he is not entirely kidding.

◘ When it comes to sleeping situations- basing off the earlier points, he loves to have you there to sleep with.

◘ He likes it most when he is behind you, with one arm looped over your waist. Again- doesn’t matter if you are shorter, taller, bigger, smaller- he does not care. As long as you are in his arms he’s fine.

◘ However, that can’t always play out- especially with such small beds, so if you aren’t gonna be sleeping in his bed- he has solutions.

◘ You will be the first thing he sees every morning after he wakes up, and every night before he falls asleep. Before going to bed he will stop by your bunk and say goodnight, good morning, whichever fits the occasion. 

◘ I do just wanna touch one more time on what I wrote before- he does not mind if he is the shorter/ smaller or taller/bigger one in the relationship. He does not give one fuck. If he can reach your lips for a kiss, does he really have anything to complain about?

◘ The only time he’s ever really argued about it is when one of the other boys tries to use it to tease him. And even then, it won’t affect how he sees the relationship- it’s just him throwing around insults.

Platonic: 

◘  You are the first person he tries to make bets with.

◘ At any given chance, he turns to you and starts there first. If you say no- then he starts taking the opinions of others.

◘ Hangs around you most, when one of you finish selling papers early- you will be spotted together. When eating, at Medda’s, any sort of gambling, you are next to each other. It happens naturally, one minute you’re standing around somewhere and the next you’re standing around somewhere with him. 

◘ Really just you two fucking around a lot, joking and making sarcastic jokes. Sometimes, whenever Spot comes around, then you become a trio for the time being. 

#Newsies #newsies x reader #92sies #Racetrack higgins #racetrack Higgins x reader #66 recs&replies

[collecting-stories]

November 29 - Racetrack Higgins

Request: can I request a little racetrack or finch x fem!reader where she has press night for a broadway show they’re in (your choice!) and he is just admiring her, maybe with a little 62 and 80 from prompt list?

A/N: I decided to set this in 1899 instead of doing an AU so I changed the zipper line because zippers weren't used on clothing until 1925. The play is Ben Hur, which premiered on Broadway on November 29 1899 and was a massive success at the time.

Broadway Masterlist

✰✰✰✰

You didn’t want to admit it but you were terribly nervous. Katharine was there in the bustle of people and press who had the privilege of attending the show that evenings, a rather exclusive who’s who of New York City elite, and you felt out of place, even in your new dress. It was nicer than anything you’d ever worn before, the sort of thing meant to impress wealth and prestige and yet, it felt like it was suffocating you. 

As your co-star answered questions about the play you stood beside him, listening but hardly able to pay attention. While Katherine’s presence was reassuring, it didn’t quite provide the calm feeling that you were looking for. What you really wanted, as silly as it may have sounded to these people, was to be back at the boarding house with everyone. With nobody to impress, or at least with people who didn’t need you all dolled up in fancy clothes that felt like they were suffocating you, flashy red shoes and rogue on your cheeks. You just wanted to be back sitting on the rooftop with Racetrack, trying to stay cool in the summer and listening to all the sounds that threatened to keep you awake. 

Katherine called your name softly as she came up beside you, offering the sort of well-mannered greeting (a polite kiss to your left cheek and a reassuring hand on your wrist) that belonged in upper society circles. “Seems you have an admirer.” She teased and you finally looked away from all the stuffy jackets and skirts in the room. 

“What?”

“Look,” she instructed, nodding her head back so that you looked just beyond her shoulder. Standing there near the exit, in nicer clothes than you knew him to own, was Racetrack. Jack was standing with him, grinning at all the people hobnobbing their way about the lobby. Racetrack was looking right at you though, nothing seemed able to distract him as he stood there, grin on his face, watching you receiving praise from all the wealthy theatre goers of New York City. 

When he realized that Katherine had told you he was there, he waved and mouthed a silent ‘hello’ to him. You held your hand up just enough that he could tell you were waving back and then you pointed off to the side, nodding your head in the same direction just in case Racetrack didn’t get the message to meet you at the side door. He nodded. 

“You think anyone would mind if I sneak off?” You chanced asking Katherine, “just for a moment?” 

“I’ll cover for you, promise.” She replied. 

You snuck off as quietly as possible, weaving through the crowd and then slipping through the double doors into the theatre. You walked the empty aisle down to the stage, through the back and to the side door where Racetrack stood, already inside.

“You were supposed to wait for me to let you in.”

“Picked the lock,” he shrugged, smiling at you. There was a deep blush across his freckled cheeks as he stared at you, “you look beautiful, prettier than those Gibson girls.”

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you moved closer to him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. You and Racetrack had been friends for as long as you had been living on the street and you had liked him just as long. You’d wasted money on dances before, gone along with friends who were looking for a more secure future than a newsie had the means to offer, but nothing had ever stuck. You loved Race and you knew you did and whether it was the way he was looking at you or the fact that all your nerves had been calmed at the sight of him or even just the knowledge that it was your name on the marquee outside tonight, you wanted to make sure that he knew how much you loved him. 

“Wow,” Racetrack looked a little dumbstruck when you pulled away, a dopey smile on his face, “thanks.”

“Thanks?” You nearly laughed, “...your welcome?”

“No I didn’t mean...I just meant...aw hell,” he shook his head before leaning forward initiating another kiss. 

You had a marquee with your name on it and hundreds of guests crowding into the theatre to see you but all that felt like second best to the feeling of kissing Racetrack. You felt like there were butterflies in your stomach as you leaned back against the dressing table that had been set up in the tiny closet of a room you’d been given backstage. Outside the closed door you could hear footsteps and voices, people bustling around now that the preshow cocktail hour was over. Soon you’d be expected, ready and in costume, to go onstage. 

“Racetrack,” you pushed gently at his chest, “Racetrack, I have to get ready.” 

He nodded his head in understanding, though he didn't look ready to let go of you just yet, "I know," he lamented. And then, leaning in again, "I know I've kissed you like ten times but just another ten please?"

Before you could protest, a knock on your door let you know that you were expected out on the side stage, ready for your entrance. "I have to go," you insisted, pulling away. This time he let you though you didn't get too far, turning your back to him and looking over your shoulder, "can you help me do up this dress? Since you've somehow managed to undo it." 

Racetrack smiled, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers, "nimble fingers," he replied. He did up your dress though, the brightest smile on his face the entire time. "Beautiful."

You could feel your face warm at his compliment. Racetrack always knew how to give your butterflies in your stomach. "Wait until I'm gone," you asked, checking your makeup in the mirror behind him, "I don't need anyone thinking I'm a charity girl."

"That'll be comical...after tonight you'll be the one giving me gifts for favors." Race teased, laughing when you swatted at him, "you think they got a name for that? A bloke who gets gifts from his girl, instead a the other way 'round?"

"I'll see you after the show," you promised, opening the door just enough that you could sneak out of your dressing room and blowing him a kiss that he caught and pressed to his heart.      

#collecting stories imagine #racetrack x reader #racetrack imagine #racetrack higgins x reader #newsies imagine #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #newsies oneshot

[inkblotsandpapertrails]

Heart of Stone {R.H.} [Pt 8: Epilogue]

Warnings: None (as a little treat!)

Pairing: Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Description: You didn’t agree with your brothers much. You didn’t like how they treated people or handled emotions and etcetera. But you could all agree that the Delancey’s were a proud family. A strong family. You didn’t get close to people, you didn’t show emotion, you didn’t let anyone have power over you, no matter what, because that made you weak. Except for the pretty newsboy with the foghorn voice and smart jokes, apparently.

A/N: didja miiiiiss me!!! wait no stop throwing things wait please oh god i know its been over a year im SORRY im SORRY-

“Would you stop?” You sighed as Race paced past the gates for the seventh time. “You’re making me antsy.”

“He should be back by now.” Race muttered. “He’s been up there way too long – Spot and Davey are already down, so where’s he?”

“He’s the leader, Race.” You said matter-of-factly. “And Pulitzer’s a stubborn ass. It’s going to take some time.”

“But what if-!” Race whirled around, his face panicked and painfully young. He glanced at the other newsies and huddled closer to you, lowering his voice. “What if he leaves? What if Pulitzer offers him even more money and he just – I dunno, sneaks out the backdoor and high-tails it to Santa Fe?”

“Not possible.”

“But how do you know that?”

“Because there’s no backdoor in Pulitzer’s office.” You grinned. Race opened his mouth for a moment, as if you’d actually said something of value, and then stopped. You tried not to laugh as his face twitched, his brain going through a very obvious journey of ‘oh, that was a joke’.

“Why, you-!” Race let out a surprised laugh. “I thought Delancey’s didn’t make jokes, huh?”

You know he didn’t mean to, but the words hold some weight to them – not crushing weight, but just enough for you to notice. Like an arm around your shoulders. You wetted your lips – you knew what he expected you to say. It was your little joke, your thing, but… It just didn’t ring true anymore. You remembered what Race said, back when he kissed you for the first time – ‘I know you became a Delancey for a reason’. It was true, you had – all three of you had. Your parents were gone, you only had each other. Each other, and Delancey Street. You could’ve been washed away on that street, but the three of you held on tight – you found something to make you strong, a force to be reckoned with. You became Delancey’s, and the world became afraid of you.

“Maybe…” You murmured quietly – Race immediately notices the change, peering at you curiously. Just a few weeks ago, you’d’ve hated anyone being able to read you that well. You’d’ve been terrified that someone would see your fear, your weakness. But Race is different. He sees all of you.

You don’t want people to be afraid of you anymore. Least of all Race.

“Maybe I’m not a Delancey, then.”

Race pulled his cigar from his slack jaw.

“I…” He said quietly. “[Y/N]… Look, there ain’t nothing wrong wi’ you-“

“I know.” You smiled. “I know. I could be a Delancey if I wanted. It served me good, y’know? Kept me alive. But I…” You sighed and took his stupid hand, holding it tight between your fingers. “I wanna be more than just alive, y’know?”

Race smiled at you – not his cheeky grin, but a wide, genuine smile, melting across his face. You felt your face beginning to blush, and you had to look away. You just couldn’t take it – he looked at you like you mattered. Like you were everything.

“So…” Race said gently, squeezing your hand between his. “Whatcha gonna be?”

For one stupid second, you’re scared. Because as much as you love him, you don’t want to be a Higgins. And you don’t want him to want you to be one, either – not just yet. You want to be yourself, not for any ulterior motive, but just to be you. To be happy.

Race ran his thumb over your knuckles, and you immediately stopped panicking. This was Race. He’d never held any expectations of you – he’d never had any other goals to being with you. He’d only ever just wanted you to be happy. It scared you at first – the idea of someone just wanting you, not for any particular reason or use you might have to them, but simply for yourself. But truly, it was addicting.

“Maybe a Larkin.” You shrugged. “Maybe a Plumber, if Katherine feels like sharing. Maybe I’ll find a new street and name myself after that.” You spied a red shirt through the crowd and grinned. “Who knows, maybe a Brooklyn.”

“Not a Brooklyn!” Race said quickly, pulling you into his chest and trapping you. “Nuh-uh, absolutely not!”

“I can be a Brooklyn if I want to be!” You laughed against him. He tips his head back and groans – you can feel the vibrations through his chest.

“Fine.” He huffed. You tipped your head up and raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

“Eh, I can hop the back of a wagon easy.” Race grinned. “Might take ya to Coney. Or Sheepshead. Proper li’l date.”

You could feel yourself blushing again and hid your face under his chin.

“Shut up.” You mumbled as he laughed.

“Ey, Racer!” A newsie hollered behind the two of you. “Wouldja quit bein’ gross? Where’s Jack?”

“Aw, cool it, Splasher!” Race yelled back, but his goofy smile undercut his tone. “He’ll be here any second.”

Race looked at you and ran his thumb over your knuckles again, slow and steady, as if committing every bump and scar to memory.

“Have a little faith.”

You heard someone pretend to gag, which made Race whirl around and shove someone – just a play shove – and soon enough all the newsies were bickering, until someone pointed to Pulitzer’s balcony and yelled, “It’s Jack!”

A hush fell over Newsie Square. Everyone stared up at Jack, who gazed sombrely over the crowd.

“Newsies of New York City…” He said gravely. You clung to Race’s hand, squeezing tight. You’d hold on to each other. No matter what happened, you’d hold on. Neither of you would be washed away.

“We won!”

The square erupted in cheer – you couldn’t stop the delighted gasp that shot out of you. And before you could even react, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up high, spinning you around like couples do in moving pictures.

Race laughed like a madman, his eyes shiny with joyful tears. You knew this wouldn’t be the end. You knew there were still loose threads that needed tying. You knew your family hated you, you knew Jack wouldn’t be around forever, you knew Race would have to take up the mantle of leader sooner or later – but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. As Race settled you down on the ground, you grabbed him by his suspenders and pulled. And as he kissed you, kissed you and held you like you were something precious, something worth a damn, you felt your stone heart melt into something soft and shiny.

It'd all be okay.

Have a little faith.

oOo

“Oh, darn it!”

You poked your head out from behind the stage set. It’d been about a month since the strike, and the sweltering city summer was starting to chill into a cool, peaceful autumn. Medda wanted her stage to reflect that, and since she had an extra pair of hands now, you’d been swiftly put to work carving out wooden trees to frame her stage. Jack would be coming soon to paint them pretty autumn colours – he’d already finished the backdrop Medda had commissioned, Central Park in earthy oranges and browns, lit up against a purple sunset.

“Something the matter, Miss Medda?” You asked, setting down your sandpaper. You’d been enjoying the work, so far – all those years in the Refuge, hauling paper stacks and tussling with your brothers had given you some lean Delancey muscle, and you were more than happy to work up a sweat with it. It gave you something to do, and it was nice to make something with your own two hands. And you couldn’t lie, watching Medda fawn over your work, telling you had talent… Well, it made a vain, overachieving piece of your heart sing. It was true, Medda was spoiling you, but, well, as she said, a lifetime of misery’s worth a lifetime of spoiling. You liked that philosophy.

“Oh, it’s nothing, kiddo,” Medda sighed. “I just think I left my script in your room – keep the stage warm for me?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled, shooting to your feet. “I’ll get it.”

“Well, aren’t you a peach!” Medda laughed. “Hop to it, now!”

You saluted her as you jogged out of the auditorium, jumping up the stairs two at a time to your little attic room. You did a little spin as you hit the last step – not quite as elegant as the Bowery Beauties, but you were enjoying your little dances. They were even teaching a few steps, and every time you got one right you couldn’t help but giggle. You swung open the door to your room, almost skipping over the threshold when-

“Evenin’, sweetheart!” Race grinned from where he sat lazily on your bed, propped up on his elbows with his feet crossed at the ankles, without a care in the world. “Care to- Jee-zus-!”

“You jerk!” You laughed as you launched yourself onto the bed in a full-body tackle. Race groaned exaggeratedly, clutching his ribs.

“God, man down! Man down!”

“Grow up.” You snorted. “Where have you been?!”

It’s a rhetorical question – ever since the strike ended and Jack got his new job, Race had been taking his new responsibilities with the utmost seriousness. You’d been worried at first – worried he’d burn himself out and be left a mess all over again – but it seemed like the small bump in his rank was exactly what Race had needed. It wasn’t like last time – all the responsibility hadn’t fallen on his shoulders out of the blue. He was just more active now, more involved, more leaderly. Truthfully, you were proud of him.

“Aw, tesoro, I’m so sorry!” Race crooned playfully. “I been busy!”

“Mm, jerk.” You said, punctuated with a soft punch to his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“Mm, missed you too.” Race hummed back, tilting your chin upward. You smiled, about to lean in when you jolted upright, your shoulder hitting Race in the cheek.

“Oh-!” You yelped as he cried out, clutching his face. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t laugh!” Race said back, though any threat was undercut by his massive grin. “I’m severely injured here!”

“I’m sorry!” You giggled. “I’m sorry, I am, I just – Medda needs her script, and I-“

“Oh my God,” Race groaned. “Y’know, I figured when we got together, you’d stop bein’ oblivious as all hell.”

You paused for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I – you-?”

Race grinned cheekily.

“Oh, you little-!” You snapped, swatting at his chest. “It’s your own fault you got hit, then! Don’t make me worry about my job next time, and maybe I’ll be happier to see you!”

“Aw, you’s happy to see me anyways.” Race smiled, tugging playfully at your shirt until you settled down beside him.

“Yeah, maybe.” You mumbled into his neck. “You sure Medda won’t mind?”

“Believe me, she’s grateful. ‘Parently you’ve been working yourself to the bone.”

“Have not.” You said petulantly. “I just – I dunno, I like being here. Feels good.”

You could feel Race’s smile against your hair.

“Yeah, feels real good.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart!” Race whined, rolling the two of you so that he was above you. “I’m askin’ nicely, ain’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your darkening face against the pillow to no avail. Race only smiled, cupping your jaw in his hand and swiping a thumb across your cheek. You rolled your eyes and hooked your finger in his collar, tugging him down until you met each other in a gentle kiss. Race hummed delightedly, leaning down until he was pressed flush against you, chest to chest. You ran one hand down his back to his waist, carding another through his soft curls, earning you another content noise from the back of his throat, the vibrations humming through your skin. He broke away, leaving you to giggle breathlessly as he dotted kisses down your jaw to the little sweet-spot just underneath your ear. You sighed, moving your hand from his hair to his shoulder-

And with one firm push, you flipped him onto his back, rolling yourself on top of him.

“You could ask a little nicer.” You smirked as Race stared at you, face slack and eyes blown wide.

“Jee-sus, I ain’t never gonna get used to that.” He laughed, just a bit shakily, and rested his hands on your hips. You rolled your eyes and settled down next to him, tucking your head underneath his chin with a happy little sigh.

“I missed you.” You said again, because you did, and you’re allowed to say it. You can feel your stomach flipping giddily. You’re allowed to say things now. You’re allowed to just be you.

“Missed you, too, tesoro,” Race smiled, pressing a kiss to your hair. “You’re gonna ruin me, y’know – I won’t be able to wrestle the fellas without thinkin’ o’ you doin’ that.”

“My heart weeps.”

“Mean.” Race pouted, and you both giggle. “How’s Medda?”

You sighed happily into his neck.

“Kind. Takes care of me. I kinda like it.” Race ran his hand down your back absently – you could feel how pleased he was to hear it. “How’re the newsies?”

“Loud.” He said matter-of-factly, making you laugh. “Li’l shits run me ragged! But, y’know, Jack’s still there, and Davey helps. Reminds me o’ my mom, honestly – looks like an angel, but if you piss ‘im off, God save ya.” He yawned, snuggling you closer to him. “But it’s worth it. I feel… I dunno. Good. Like I’ve actually done somethin’ to be proud of.”

“You have, stupid.” You said, pressing a feather-light kiss to his jaw. “You changed The World.”

Race scoffed a little, nudging his nose against your head like a cat looking for scritches. You carded a hand through his hair and try not to laugh when he melted into it – a cat, indeed.

“Hey, um.” Race said, just a bit awkwardly, catching your hand in his. “Just wanted to let you know – we don’t gotta talk about, but, um…”

You lie there quietly, waiting for him to get the words out. You’re there – he knows you’re there. And you’re not leaving. You nudge your head against his shoulder – I’m here. It’s okay.

“Weasel’s workin’ alone these days.” Race said quietly. “First time it happened, I figured they were sick or somethin’, maybe too scared to show their faces, but, um… Well, happened for the third time today, so I figured I’d ask about it.”

You blinked sleepily, trying to wake yourself up from the comfy Race-bubble you’d slipped into.

“Wait.” You said slowly. “Oscar and Morris…?”

“Quit. Well, Weasel said he fired ‘em, but ain’t no way Weasel sent away his own muscle.”

You grunted – you still didn’t like talking about him.

“Are they…” You nibbled at your lip. “Are they ok?”

Race stroked his hand up and down your back, pushing his nails down gently in the way he knew you liked.

“’Cordin’ to Spot, they’re both down at the docks. Got their own places, too. Think he sent down a group to, y’know, size ‘em up a li’l, but…” Race clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “Well, the way Spot said it, sounds like they ain’t lookin’ to fight no more. Just honest work.”

You pursed your lips. Oscar’s idea of honest work used to be taking money to beat up strikers. It felt too good to be true.

“Why’re you telling me this?”

Race frowned at you.

“Does there gotta be a reason?” He asked. “They’s your folks. Just figured you oughta know.”

You felt tension that you didn’t know was there begin to leave your shoulders. Race made things so simple.

“I don’t…” You sighed against him. “I don’t know what to do with that, Race.”

“Don’t gotta do nothin’.” Race shrugged. “You can talk to ‘em, you can never see ‘em again… You can get Spot to send a gang to roughen ‘em up, if you want. I won’t tell.”

You snickered quietly.

“I don’t think I’ll do that just yet. If they’re turning a new leaf, I will, too.”

Race smiled down at you, and tipped your chin up with his finger, placing a soft, chaste kiss onto your lips.

“What’s that for?” You smiled quizzically. Race rolled his eyes.

“What’d I just say? Don’t gotta be a reason.”

You raised an eyebrow. Race sighed, throwing his head back exaggeratedly.

“Maybe I’m a li’l proud o’ you, is all.” He said, turning his face away almost bashfully. “You… You’s different, y’know? Happier, calmer… I like it.”

You couldn’t even try to fight the wide smile spreading across your face. You tapped his cheek and, just as he turned, pressed a swift kiss to his mouth, like passing a secret.

“I like it, too.” You sighed, snuggling into his shoulder. “Love it, even.”

Race hummed quietly, brushing his fingers through your hair.

“Love you, even.”

You paused, your eyes darting up towards him. He looked nervous, a soft pink blush on his nose, worrying his lip between his teeth. You melted against him, burying your face into his neck.

“Love you, too, even.” You whispered against his skin. “Even if you are an idiot.”

Race rolled his eyes and snuggled against you. The two of you melted sleepily into the mattress, one of you breathing in as the other breathed out, moving in tandem, as if you were joined at the soul. It’d been a long, painful summer – you needed a rest. Distantly in the auditorium below, you could hear Medda’s band practicing their next number. Race grinned, tapping his finger against your back as the music began to play.

“Let me call you ‘sweetheart,’”, he sang softly, the noise rumbling between the two of you. “I'm in love with you. Let me hear you whisper, that you love me too. Keep the love-light glowing, in your eyes so true…”

Softly, you feel yourself drifting into a slow, safe slumber. Safe here, with Race holding you close. Safe and warm and loved.

“Let me call you ‘sweetheart’, I'm in love with you…”

(it's done!! i know it took a while but thank you to everyone who was patient with me while i recovered and stuck around to the end. hope it was worth the long... LONG wait. i also wanna say a little thanks to @misguidedswagger, @faded-autumn-rose and @pittbull-enthusiast - their kind comments and unending support helped me to slowly get my writing mojo back and come back to this series that i love so much :')) thanks yall)

(taglist: @annabethgranger123 @farfromjustordinary @theater-geek76 @wnygirl2012 @fayepummeluff @enbyalbert @alkaia23 @mybeautifulbeautifulmakkari)

#newsies x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #newsies #race x reader #heart of stone #racetrack higgins

[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

[heliads]

Hi friend! I love your writing and I was wondering if you were taking requests could you write a racetrack x reader oneshot where they’re not that close but they have both been secretly crushing on each other, and they finally admit it to each other after they have to do a project together? You can take it from there!

this is me, taking it from there

masterlist

There is no better gossip in Manhattan than the stuff Katherine Pulitzer brings to the table. Talking to her, you understand why no one in this godless city is able to turn her down for an interview, why no piece of information is ever far from her reach. She has ways of sinking her claws in you, pulling and tugging until you end up telling her your entire life story.

All this, and she’s still the best friend you could ever ask for. Katherine’s been busy as of late, the thrills of having a full time job that she loves, but you still make time for her whenever you can. Right now, the two of you are cloistered in a corner of the Manhattan newsies’ Lodging House, watching the sun sink beneath the horizon through a few cracked windows and keeping each other up to date on everything that’s happened since your last get together.

Katherine has her legs propped up on a table nearby, arms crossed as she surveys the scene. You swear she grows less and less ladylike every time she visits, although that’s surely due to no small share of influence on your part. You’re a wreck already, and you’re determined to drag her down with you. She loves it, you know that.

Jack Kelly has already joked a thousand times that the two of you could take over the whole of New York City if given three days and some cool weather, and you have no doubt that it’s true. That’s the best part of a good friend, you think, there’s nobody here who knows all the ways your brain clicks and whirs except Katherine.

Well, she doesn’t know one point of interest. See, Katherine is convinced that you’ve got a crush on somebody here, that surely you’ve set your heart on at least one of the newsboys. She’s trying to figure out who that potential suitor could be. Unfortunately, given her successful track record when it comes to figuring out stories, you’re fairly sure that she’s going to solve this problem soon enough.

You try to distract her anyway, on the off chance that it might work. “I don’t know why you’re so set on this whole idea. Why would I like anybody here?”

Katherine scoffs, eyes roving the packed Lodging House. “You, Y/N, live in a house full of cute boys who all but worship the ground on which you walk. There’s no way you don’t have a crush on at least one of them.”

You arch a brow. “That seems fake.”

Katherine gestures vaguely at herself. “It worked for me, didn’t it? Once upon a time, I was just like you. Stubborn, hardworking–”

You cut her off with a grin. “Utterly devoted to herself and not other newsboys?”

Katherine holds up a finger in agreement. “See, I thought that at first too, but look at me now. I found Jack and I’ve never looked back.”

You chuckle. “Just because you accidentally fell in love with the most infuriating boy you’d ever met doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same thing. What caused that, anyway? You two bantered one too many times and suddenly you thought he was your sun and stars? That sort of thing is totally absurd. Why would enemies ever fall in love?”

Katherine casts you a knowing look. “You’d be surprised, trust me. Besides, you’re missing one important fact: he was cute. Also, he has a heart bigger than this entire city. I didn’t realize that at first. Now, who’s your crush? I know there has to be one.”

You sigh. “Good luck on that front. I don’t like a single one of these boys like that.”

Katherine’s eyes spark. “Not even Race?”

You freeze, and although you force yourself to breathe normally as soon as you can, even your half second delay doesn’t go unnoticed. Damn Katherine and her eagle eyes.

“What? Race, what about him?” You say, doing your best to remain as innocent as possible.

It’s too late, though. Katherine knows. “Goodness, it is him, isn’t it? I knew it.”

Your eyes widen. “No you didn’t. You’re just lucky that you tossed out that name first.”

Katherine laughs. “I’ve known for weeks. You stare at him so much you’d think the boy was a priceless headline. It’s kind of cute.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks. “I’m glad you’re having a good time with this. Look, I don’t feel the same way about Race as you did about Jack. I’ve talked to Race maybe once since I started being a newsie. I just think he’s good looking, that’s all. The feeling will fade in another week.”

Katherine steeples her fingers together. “I’m willing to bet otherwise. All you need to do is get close to him. Just talk to the guy, okay? I swear it’ll be different then. You’ll be irrevocably in love.”

She clasps her hands to her chest in mock theatrics, and you shove her in the shoulder, making the other girl laugh. “Alright, alright, Juliet, you can cool it. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Katherine’s grin, though, is a little too knowing. It sets your suspicions racing. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” she says, and you can’t help but wonder what your friend’s got in mind.

It would be great if Katherine weren’t half so cunning, or half so connected to the leader of the Manhattan newsies. When a week comes and goes and suddenly Jack starts talking about how he wants everyone to settle into partners for selling papes, you smell a bad deal. Katherine’s got her hands in this, you can tell.

Your fears are confirmed when Jack calls for you and Race to work together. Supposedly, the ships coming in and out of a nearby harbor have changed, leading to a sudden influx of potential customers around the city blocks. Jack wants the two of you to work together to make sure you can handle all of the new arrivals. 

Although the explanation makes sense, it’s a strange partnership. This seems like an important opportunity, right? Jack is only having two people work together because he wants to make sure not a single visitor goes throughout their day without having been sold a paper or ten. Why, then, would he have you and Race be partners, especially when the two of you have never worked together before? You’re untested in the face of a grand opportunity. It makes no sense.

Or, it would make no sense, were it not for the fact that Katherine surely set you up. You don’t get a chance to see your friend for another couple of days due to some major deadlines on her end, so you won’t be able to confront her about this for a while. The only option you have, then, is to weather this storm and stay so close to your crush until this whole thing blows over.

Race is only half as surprised about this as you are. He whistles as the two of you walk over to the streets near the harbor, occasionally breaking up his melody to point out interesting things the two of you pass. He keeps glancing at you as if he expects you to take off running and abandon him for another friend, but when you don’t, his nerves seem to settle.

You were expecting this whole affair to be stilted and awkward, featuring you tripping over your own words as you try to act normally. You’re not used to being this close to Race; usually, he’s just out of reach, across the room or down a street. He’s a painting to you, a portrait of brilliance that has never been yours, not even to name or touch.

All of a sudden, he’s now feet away, within arm’s reach and looking at you for casual conversation. You didn’t realize his eyes would be this blue up close, nor that his smiles would come so easily for something you said. It’s almost unsettling to be so near him. Usually, you can hide your longing looks through distance, but here, you’re on display. 

Race can tell whenever you’re staring at him because he has nowhere else to look but at you. He certainly takes advantage of it, too– every time you’re unable to keep your eyes from straying to him a second longer, more often than not he’s already turned towards you. The two of you engage in the same immediate shift away, both of you pretending you weren’t looking at each other, but you repeat the same process soon enough. Away and back again, away and back. 

Halfway through the third day, Race says something quietly to you under the guise of rearranging the papers in his bag. “I’m glad Jack put us together.”

You glance up at him in surprise, although for once the boy refuses to meet your eyes. Apparently his papers require a serious amount of attention, because he can’t seem to drag his gaze away from them.

“What?” You ask, not sure if he was even talking to you.

Race’s face flushes a little, but he keeps going anyway. “For this assignment, I mean. We haven’t really spoken before this, and I didn’t know you all too well, but I feel like I know you now. I’m glad we got the chance to talk more often, I mean.”

You smile, and a moment later, Race looks up at last and smiles as well. “I’m glad he had us work together too. I’ve liked getting to know you.”

Race’s face brightens at that. “See, I felt the same way. Always knew you were cool, right? I just never got the chance to check it out for myself.”

You laugh. “We’ve been in the same house and in the same job for years. You’ve had plenty of chances.”

Race playfully shoves you with a free hand. “Rude. You could have done the same thing, you know. I’m not the only one with the ability to speak.”

“Ah, but I thought I’d give you the chance to be a gentleman,” you say, “I wanted to be nice.”

Race scoffs. “Oh, because all of us newsies are nothing but gentlemen. I know I’m incredibly handsome and all that, but I’se never claimed to have manners.”

You grin. “Does that save me from having to be a proper lady? It’s never fit me half as well as Katherine, I can admit that.”

Race frowns. “Of course it does. You know, every now and then I see the two of you walking together and I’m never sure if you’re one of her rich friends or not. Trust me, you’se as ladylike as they come.”

Your brow furrows. “I didn’t realize you saw us. Or paid enough attention to notice us, for that matter. Hell, before Jack put us together I didn’t think you even knew my name.”

Race’s eyes widen. “Why wouldn’t I know you? Y/N, sweetheart, I’m hurt. If I’d known you thought that little of me, I’d have introduced myself a lot earlier.”

You laugh. “You’re calling me ‘sweetheart’ now? You really are taking this gentleman thing to heart, I can see that now. I’m sorry to have ruined your image. Consider me proven wrong. You did pay attention to me.”

The corners of Race’s lips twitch up into a smile despite his best attempts to silence it. “All the time, sweetheart. Far more often than you thought, believe me.”

He glances again once he says it, and you realize that Race might have been keeping a more careful eye on you than you thought. It makes you smile.

“You wouldn’t be the only one looking,” you say carefully, “I saw you too. Just didn’t think you were seeing me.”

The two of you have been walking down the block, but Race stops all of a sudden, looking you straight on with an intensity you haven’t ever seen on him before.

“I saw you all the time,” he whispers, eyes a deeper blue than ever, “I still do. I don’t think I see anybody but you.”

Your breath catches in your chest. You’ve pictured this moment, or something like it, dozens of times in your head, but those were only fantasies. This, though, this is real, and suddenly you don’t know what to say. All of your imagined responses suddenly bleed dry.

Race’s gaze flicks to your lips, and suddenly you know the perfect answer. With the last bit of your courage dancing like sparks around your eyes, you lean forward and kiss him. You’re close enough that you can feel Race startle when you do, but then he’s kissing you back with enough force that it’s your turn to be surprised. How long has he been wanting this? Perhaps just as long as you.

When the two of you break away, Race’s forehead is tilted against yours, his breath soft on your cheeks. “That was certainly something, sweetheart. I’m beginning to think that I should have asked us to be selling partners a long time ago.”

You laugh quietly. “We still have plenty of time.”

And so you do. Today seems endless, next week a blessed eternity. You have all the time in the world to explore this love, and in the meantime, you need to set up an appointment with your best friend. You certainly have a good story to tell.

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

[thatbookworm08]

Over the Bridge Part 1 (Race Higgins x reader)

a/n: Hi there! Thank you so much for noticing my story! It is completed and has eight parts in total. Enjoy!

Summary: The Queen of Brooklyn never expected to fall so hard for an overly energetic blond Newsie from Manhattan during the Strike...

Over the Bridge Masterlist

It was a cloudy day in the city of Brooklyn. You rolled over in your bunk just before the sun began to rise. Your best friend, Spot Conlon strode into the room and stopped by your bed giving you a light tap on the shoulder saying, “Wake up, Ace. Time ta carry da bannah,” 

‘Ace’ was the newsie nickname you acquired for being Spot’s right-hand man–or woman rather–along with ‘The Queen of Brooklyn’.

You sighed. “I’se up,”

You were the only girl newsie in all of Brooklyn, but that didn’t mean you got any less respect. The older boys knew not to mess with you, especially when you were upset, and you had even beat the King of Brooklyn himself in a fight once. As tough as you were, you always made time for the littles. 

You and Spot finished selling your papes by midday and decided to hang out by the harbor before lunch. You two were in the middle of a sling-shot competition when three people approached. 

“Why, if it ain’t Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,” said Spot. 

Jack Kelly? In Brooklyn? Odd. 

Kelly jumped into a speech: something about a strike…? In Manhattan? You stopped listening for a moment when your eyes met with the third boy… you recognized his blue eyes and messy blond curls poking out from underneath his cap. His ears turned a little pink when you smiled. He was one of Spot’s friends from Manhattan, but you just couldn’t remember his name.  

One of the boys with Jack, a new guy you observed, explained to Spot why Brooklyn should join the strike. 

“What is this Jackie Boy?” Spot asked sarcastically, “A walkin’ mouth?” 

“A walkin’ mouth with brains,” Jack clarified, “So’s I suggest you listen to what he’s gotta say. Both of you,” he finished, motioning to you. 

You listened intently to what the boy Davey had to say, nodding at Spot in agreement.

“And how do we’s know you’se won’t back out the second the bulls come for ya?” 

You glanced at your friend. He made a good point. 

“We won’t,” said Davey.

“Then you’ll need ta prove it,” 

You excused yourself and Spot, grabbing his wrist and pulling him aside. “I think they’s is serious ‘bout this, Spot,” you said. 

“I need a bit’s more convincin’ than that,” he said defiantly. 

“Spot—”

He strode back over to Jack and said “When you prove it to me, Brooklyn will be right there backin’ you’se up. Now scram,” 

Kelly knew better than to linger in Brooklyn when he wasn’t wanted so off he went, Davey and the other boy trailing behind. The blonde boy turned back and gave a slight wave and a shy smile. 

Luckily Spot wasn’t looking. 

That night you lay awake, thinking about the strike. You had to help. You wanted to help. So you slid out of bed, dressed in your clothes for the next day, and soundlessly slipped out the window and into the warm night air. 

The city was finally sleeping and everything was calm. You trekked across the Brooklyn Bridge, ready to make history.

Late into the night, you arrived at the Manhattan Lodging House. 

It was too late to knock on the door, it was the middle of the night, after all, so you climbed up the fire escape to the rooftop. 

In the darkness, you saw a figure spin around. “Who’s there?” a male’s voice called, “I can see you,” 

The voice was unfamiliar. It wasn’t Jack’s, or Davey’s, or anyone you knew. 

“It’s me,” you said confidently, stepping into the light. 

You had discovered who the voice belonged to: it was the blond boy with curly hair.

“Well, well, well,” he said, smirking, “What’s da Queen of Brooklyn doin’ on ‘Hattan’s toif?” 

“I came to help with the strike.” you explained. 

The boy raised an eyebrow. “In the middle of the night? Does Spotty know you’re here?” 

“He doesn’t,” you said, keeping your composure. Everyone in New York knew to be scared of you. You weren’t about to let this kid think otherwise. 

“Ooh. Goin’ against your boyfriend’s wishes yeah?” 

“Spot ain’t my boyfriend,” you said. “We’s just friends and that’s all,”

For a moment, a flick of what seemed to be…hope?...sparked in the boy’s face. He stuck out his hand and introduced himself. “The name’s Race,” 

You eyed him skeptically before shaking his hand. “Ace,” 

“No, that’s not right,” Race said, shaking his head.

“Excuse me?” I questioned. 

“Your name,” 

“You tellin’ me I don’t know my own name?” 

Race chuckled and shook his head. “It rhymes with mine!” 

You studied him. The way his nose scrunched and his eyes closed when he laughed, the way his curls bounced in the cool summer breeze. He was rather attractive, in a boyish manner, and you couldn’t help but notice. “It does!” you smiled. 

Race led you to the roof’s edge and leaned on the rail. “Ain’t it amazin’?” he breathed. 

“What?” you wondered. 

“The city,” he said, “When da woild’s finally quiet…” he inhaled deeply.

“Yeah…” you said, doing the same, “So why are you up so late?” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Race shrugged. 

You couldn’t help but ask him why. 

He shrugged again. “Runnin’ thoughts,” 

You decided not to ask any more. You didn’t want to push his boundaries—you had just met. 

Race didn’t think he’d ever see you again. You were from two different boroughs who didn’t like it when people trespassed on their turf. 

He was told you were scary, and some part of him believed that, but there he was, standing on a roof with you, and you hadn’t soaked him to the ground. That was a good sign…wasn’t it?

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard you clear your throat. “Oh sorry,” he muttered.

Now he was done for.

Or so he thought. 

Instead of soakin’ him to a pulp, the Queen of Brooklyn just stared out onto the city streets and said, “Are you nervous?…about the strike?” 

“Why do it mattah what ise thinks?” He questioned. 

“It mattahs what everyone thinks,” 

Race thought a moment, searching for the right words. “Do’s youse wants da brave answer or da real answer?”

You stared into his sky-colored eyes and softly said, “Da real answer o’course,” 

Race took a deep breath and leaned forward on the railing. “I’se terrified,” he whispered.

You and Race sat in silence for a long beat. You didn’t like touchy conversations and you certainly didn’t know what to say to ease Race’s anxiety. You looked up at the moon and guessed it was about four in the morning. It took two hours to get back to Brooklyn and you needed to be there before Spot awoke, so you said “I should gets goin’, but you tell your boys Brooklyn will be helpin’ wit da strike. Wit or without Spot,” 

You turned to leave but Race grabbed your wrist. “Wait—“ you turned to face him, “when will I see youse again?” He asked.

“You…you wanna see me again?” 

“Will you meet me up here tomorrow night?” 

You thought. Spot wouldn’t notice if you left…he slept like a rock… “Yes,” you agreed.

Race’s face lit up and he dramatically tipped his cap to you and said “Well then my Queen, until tomorrow!” 

You laughed at his antics and pretended to curtsy back, even though you were wearing Newsie trousers, before climbing back down the fire escape on your way back home.

Race felt like he won a million bucks. You might not have been as ever-stoic as Spot, but he made the Queen of Brooklyn laugh and she seemed to enjoy his company. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow night.

#racetrack higgins #race higgins #racetrack newsies #newsies #spot conlon #newsies fanfiction #newsies fandom #newsies x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #racetrack higgins/reader #race x reader #x reader #female reader #reader insert #fem reader #jack kelly #newsies broadway #92sies

[mikefaistenthusiast]

skimmed not proofread. 1.9k words of dumb

It’s hard not to look at him as he passes you in the hall. He’s explaining something to Albert who’s absentmindedly listening to his enthusiastic ramblings. You grab your books and audibly slam your locker shut, making Katherine jump. She had been retelling the story of her recruitment in the school newspaper. 

“Kath, I love you and I know you’re excited, and I'm excited for you, but it’s literally the 6th time I’ve heard this story.” 

She pulled you to biology, Mr. Seitz’s classroom. You sighed and your eyes moved to your seat, groaning internally. Romeo had tried to ask you out 3 times already. Of course Katherine saved you every time, but it was still dreaded. He had probably come up with a new way to ask you out considering the smile he was sporting.

Katherine shot you an apologetic look, meaning she’d likely been fed information about Romeo’s proposal by Sarah, whose brother was friends with Romeo and about every other quote on quote, “popular”  kid in the school.

Romeo waved you over, and you begrudgingly took your seat.

“Hello hello beautiful!” 

“Hi, Romeo.” 

He was trying to pass you notes throughout the lesson. He noticed you just ignored the notes so, eventually he just passed you a piece of gum with his number written on it.

“Look Romeo, I’m really sorry. You’re nice but I’m just not really interested.” you whispered to him. 

This was going to be an awkward class period. 

He walked in, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Sorry Seitz.” 

He walked in confident, yet slow, strides presumably to annoy Seitz. He stuck out the yellow slip in his hand and did some odd handshake with Jack when walking up to his seat.

“Trouble with Principal Pulitzer again Racer?” Finch questions, you’re idly eavesdropping nearby.

“You know it! Detention for two weeks.”

“You know that means no track, right?” Albert asks.

“Couldn’t play anyways. Failing Seitz’s class. May as well give myself time to do the assignments” He shrugged.

Katherine sighs at the sight of you.

“What sounds good for lunch?” 

“Not really hungry yet. Ask me after Bunsen's class and I’ll let you know.”

Katherine was the type of girl to plan ahead, too far ahead for it only being second period. She accepted your answer and left for her journalism class. You however, left for Bunsen’s. 

His class was more torture than Seitz’s was. 

Math.

The dreaded subject. Sarah’s brother, Davey, smiled at you when you walked in and waved you over. You had talked to him a few times, but usually kept closer to Sarah.

“Hi?”

“Hey, Sarah said you forgot this at her locker?” 

You most definitely had not been to Sarah’s locker, not today at least, but you recognized the book. You thought you had lost it on the bleachers.

“Thanks David.” you said, promptly turning around to find a seat in the back. The best part about Bunsen is his lack of assigned seating. There were two empty seats, one next to “Finch” Cortez, who seemed nice enough but you’d never had a conversation with, the other one was in the corner. You chose the corner seat.

Of course, Race strutted in late. He made a show of it too, as usual.

Spotting Finch, with Albert to his left, he chose the seat by you. His two best friends were sitting right there. It had nothing to do with you, but you couldn’t help the warm feeling that bubbled in your chest, especially when he greeted you. 

“Hi.” you said back, and that was that. You did notice the whispers between Finch and Race, before you finally heard an “ask her! maybe she has one!” from Finch.

“Hi uh.. Y/n, do you have a pencil?“ 

“Yeah just let me grab it.” You pulled a nice mechanical pencil out of your bag and leaned over to hand it to him.

“I’ll give it back after class, thanks.”

“You can keep it.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks Y/n” 

“Yeah, ‘course.” you smiled at him. 

Race immediately beamed back at you, his blue eyes sparkled a bit. 

“See Racer! That wasn’t so hard.” Albert ‘whispered’ to make fun of Race. He just rolled his eyes and went back to listening to Bunsen ramble. 

——

Romeo didn’t try to ask you out in bio today. You walked in, he waved. 

“Hi Romeo.” 

“Hi Y/n!” 

He didn’t bother you today, instead he just talked to you and asked about the material. It was nice.

He even explained some odd thing Seitz had said and cracked a joke, a good one. 

“You just put it in here..” Seitz explained but Romeo turned to you and grinned.

“That’s what she said.” 

You immediately started laughing, got a look from other students, and a warning from Seitz. 

——

Math had instantly become more interesting. There were no assigned seats, but the back row was always reserved for the same people. Especially your four spots. You in the corner, then Race, Finch, then Albert. One day, some girl tried to sit next to Race before you came in. He was very flustered and didn’t know how to ask her how to move, but eventually he said, “Hey, my friend was going to sit there.. Do you mind moving?”

He kept convincing himself he was going to ask you out. 

She just smiled at him and moved a few rows down. 

Finch patted him on the back, and you walked in right after she moved. 

“Er.. Do you have any gum?” 

“Sure.” You grabbed out a pack and handed it to him. He took a piece and handed it back.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” 

Finch and Albert audibly groaned

—

He kept insisting today was the day. Instead, he needed homework answers.

“Do you have yesterday's homework?”

“Yeah, here.” You said, grabbing a neat paper out of your binder and sliding it on his desk.

“Thank you so much!”

“Yeah, ‘course.” 

It was getting increasingly more unbearable for Finch and Albert to watch Race pine but do nothing about it. Even Davey had joined in on encouraging him. 

—

“Hey Y/n?”

“Yes Kath?”

“I have a favor to ask you..” 

“Okay?” 

“Will you come with me to the track meet tonight? Jack asked me to come and..”

“Sure.” You said, knowing how it was with Jack. A bit complicated, but they were basically dating. Plus, Race would be there because detention had ended, and he told you (very proudly) that he had a B+ in Seitz’s now. 

Katherine half expected you to not show up, but when you did she waved you up to her spot on the bleachers. On the field Race’s face visibly changed, he had a look of slight shock.

He didn’t know you were going to be here! Why were you here? He didn’t invite you, not to be rude, he just didn’t want to screw up in front of you. 

“Guess this means you’ll just have to do extra good!” Jack smirked from behind him.

“Definitely. Do your best Racer.” Finch smiled sweetly, but it was all an illusion. He was in on it, Albert and JoJo were in on it. Hell, even Katherine was probably in on it. 

Race groaned.

“You guys are the worst.”

“There’s no getting rid of us. We’re inevitable pal.” Davey adds, giving Race an encouraging pat on the back.

“Y’know Racer,” Crutchie starts, “If you just asked her out we wouldn’t be makin’ your life a living hell.”

“You don’t think I know that?” He sighed.

——

“When I first met you, I didn’t know if you got your name from your mouth or from track. Now I’m pretty sure it’s the track thing.” You smirked at him.

“You’d be correct. Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Katherine wanted me here, she came for Jack.”

“I’m wounded! You didn’t make an appearance for me?” He asked, clutching his chest to add to the dramatics. You laughed at his antics. 

“‘Course not,” you grinned, “I came for my boyfriend Albert.” you said, grabbing his arm as he walked by. He smiled at you.

“Hello Honey-Boo-Boo-Bear.”

“That’s the best you could do? We’re done.” 

“How will I ever go on without you?” 

You laughed, and Race did too.

Albert walked away, but not before mouthing ‘Do it!’ to Race. 

He started playing with his hands while making small talk. It was one of his nervous habits. You had only noticed it the time that Bunsen made him answer a question he didn’t know the answer to. He sat there playing with his hands till he solved the problem. 

“Do you uh..”

“Hm?”

“Do you have my number?” He smirked.

“Ye- no I don’t. Care to give it to me?” You said, stretching your hand to give him your phone.

“Damn, that was smooth.” He choked out, blushing. 

“Thanks.” you said when he handed your phone back.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

——

He hadn’t asked you on the date yet. He would soon. He was trying to work up the nerve. 

“Oh my god. Racetrack.” Albert groaned. “She flirted with you, she wanted your number. She WANTS to go on a date with you.” 

“What if she doesn’t?”

“She literally does, Kath was saying she hopes you’ll ask soon.” Jack adds

“She literally makes heart eyes at you in math. Ask her out please.” Finch is literally begging by now.

——

Another day. Another promise he makes to himself. He will ask you out. He sits through watching Romeo make advances in Seitz’s. (but he’s actually just being friendly like usual.) He sits through half of Bunsens. He’s promising himself today is the day. Half of Bunsen's class is glaring at him, silently telling him to get it over with. The final push is when Albert blows her a kiss, meant to tell Race to hurry up. He puts his head in his arms and freaks out before turning to you.

“Do you have any free time this weekend?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” 

“Yeah, ‘course. Took you this long to notice?” 

Race grinned. Suddenly Finch clapped, and the rest of the class joined in. Bunsen wasn’t pleased, but everyone else was. Race had finally asked you out.

Instead of listening to Bunsen, you grabbed out the book Davey had returned to you a few weeks ago. 

“Oh hey! I knew that was your book! Found it on the bleachers.” Race grinned. 

“Davey said I left it with Sarah?”

“Nah I found it.” 

You smiled at him, it was hard not to.

—— 

“Hi.”

“You can drive?” 

He glared at you while you got in the passenger's seat of his car. 

“‘Course I can drive? I’m literally 17.”

“Jack doesn’t have his license?”

“Jack is a menace.”

“So are you.”

“Jack has Katherine.”

“True.” 

It was no use fighting the ‘menace’ part, unfortunately. It was dark outside, enough for the street lamps to be on anyways. Race was driving his beat up Toyota truck. It didn’t surprise you when he pulled into the drive in movie theater. 

“Oh my god, you got us tickets to Mamma Mia?”

“Yes I did.”

“Race I really want to kiss you right now”

“I really want you to kiss me right now.” 

“I really actually kinda wanna wait till we’re sitting in the back of your truck because I saw the blankets and I’m cold.” 

He smiled and hopped out of the truck. You followed soon after before climbing up into the truck bed. Now that you were warm, you turned your head towards his and leaned in. Race was a really good kisser.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

—

hello 1.9k words of stupid

#race x reader #racetrack x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #racetrack higgins #newsies #i don’t know what i’m doing #send help

[iloverace]

Dial Drunk-Racetrack Higgins/Female Reader

#racetrack higgins x reader #newsies #archive of our own #racetrack newsies #racetrack higgins

[amoreva]

NEWSIES

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

FLICKERING LIGHTS - racetrack higgins x reader

SPIDERS AND THREAD - racetrack higgins x reader

MY BONNIE - racetrack higgins x reader

HOPELESSLY IN LOVE - racetrack higgins x reader

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

#newsies #uksies #west endsies #racetrack x reader #racetrack higgins x reader

[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

[sl-newsie]

Here’s some cheesy Newsies Valentine content! ❤️💕💙💜💗💛💖💞💚❣️💓🧡🤍🖤

#newsies #jack kelly #newsies 1992 #newsies musical #david jacobs #spot conlon #les jacobs #boots newsies #kid blink #newsies broadway #racetrack higgins #skittery newsies #mush meyers #racetrack newsies #crutchy newsies #specs newsies #newsies memes #spot colon x reader #newsies x reader #albert dasilva #jack kelly x reader #racetrack x reader #crutchie x reader #david newsies #valentine #valentines day

[delulu-enough-for-you]

So I was watching Newsies, and all I could think of was:

Race: I'm the king of New York!

Diner staff: what the fuck-

#newsies #newsies 1992 #newsies broadway #racetrack higgins #mush #jack kelly #jack kelly x reader #newsies imagine

[lovingmusicalmen]

Racetrack Higgins with "You look adorable when you smile" ?

Guys... I love Race - I also lowkey wanna turn this into a full one shot... lmk if you guys would wanna read that!

Still accepting blurb requests!

Fluff 15 - "You look adorable when you smile"

Mouse was... an enigma, to say the least.

When she had first arrived at the lodging house, bruises decorating her skin, she hadn't said a word to anyone for several weeks.

Hence the nickname.

Despite this, many of the newsies had taken a shine to her. Specs had immediately adopted her as a selling partner, Albert would drag her to the edge of the lodging house and she would listen to him ramble about who-knows-what when his brain was going to quick, Crutchie would ask her to help him on days where his leg acted up and Jack would invite her to join him at Meddas for company as he painted.

She was a newsie. There was no doubt about it.

But Race had never heard her laugh. Even in the more recent days where she had begun to talk to him, quiet, shy words, bashful jokes and whispered reassurances that made Race's heart ache, he had ever seen her so much as crack a smile.

There was a sadness in her eyes that Race recognised from the mirror. From the faces of the other newsies, his other friends. Only, for Mouse, it never left her.

Lately, though, Race had been making it his personal mission to change that. He would go out of his way to spend time with her - he forgone his pack of cigars to instead pay for some extra food to give to her, he lent her his newsboy cap and had been spending days trying to convince her to leave Specs to join him in Sheepshead selling for a day.

And at nights, when he would hear quiet sniffles from her bunk, which was situated beside his, he would join her. He'd wrap his arms as tightly around her as he could and rock her gently, whispering quiet stories of the antics he and his friends had gotten up to before she had joined the lodging house.

And Mouse would cling onto him, as though he was the only thing anchoring her in that moment. And Race's chest would burn with the need to tell her he loved her.

"You're staring," Mouse said in a low, quiet voice. Race just grinned at her, tugging off his hat and placing it onto her head, and readjusting his grip on his bag of newspapers.

Mouse rolled her eyes, but Race saw the gleam of amusement in them.

"Can hardly blame me for that, pretty girl," Race teased, and he placed a hand on her elbow to steer her carefully out of the way of the oncoming crowds. He was used to the rush of people on his walk over to Brooklyn, but the same could not be said for his selling partner for the day.

"Y/N," Mouse said after a moment. Her voice barely audible.

"What?" Race asked, frowning a little, dropping his hand down to link their fingers together. He told himself it was to stop them from getting separated in the swarms of businessmen, but the flutter in his chest when she squeezed his hand in response begged to differ.

"My name - it's Y/N," she clarified, her voice no louder than before. Race stopped, pulling her over to the edge of the street, raising his eyebrows at her. "You told me yours," she whispered, looking suddenly shy at the mention of the previous night, where they had been up late, and Race had whispered his own given name to her.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," Race said. He paused before adding: "Y/N."

For the first time, Race saw the girl's lips turn up a little at the corners. Her eyes crinkled at the edges and she bit her lip, reaching up to readjust Race's cap so it no longer covered her eyes.

"You look adorable when you smile," Race told her, not really thinking through his words before he said them. But then Y/N was meeting his eyes again, and he knew it was worth the mild embarrassment of his slip of the tongue to see her smile break properly across her face.

"Thank you," she whispered. Race ducked down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Come on, Mouse - we've got papes to sell."

#racetrack x reader #race higgins #racetrack higgins #racetrack newsies #racetrack fanfiction #newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies fic #newsies x reader