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heliads · 1 year

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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

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delulu-enough-for-you · 11 months

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Cocky - Spot Conlon x Reader

Content: flirty fluff!

⚠️ Warnings: female pronouns used, Y/N used, spot being a dick, cursing, not proofread well

Author's note: fine men. thats all. Enjoy!!

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-Y/N's POV-

I had taken the younger newsies to the park and had just returned to see Spot sitting on my bed. I rolled my eyes and walked over to him, my light green dress between my fingers. "Spot!" I said. "What're you doing on my bed?"Just enjoyin' da view," he smirked. I frowned and crossed my arms. "You're still wearing your outdoor clothes. Why would you sit on my nice clean bed wearing them?" He just shrugged and smirked again. "I'on see a problem wit' it.' "Well, I do." I fired back. Spot just groaned and got up from his place on my sheets. "I'll leave, as long as I can sleep 'ere tonight. Mighty fine bed, mighty fine lady." Spot had a shit eating grin on his face. I looked him straight in the eye. "You. Fucking. Wish." I growled, smoothing out the space where he sat previously. He held his hands up in defense. "I'll be back after dinner. Hope the bed bugs don't bite. " He winked and walked out.

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Newsies headcannons, anyone? 🫣

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#spot conlon #newsies #spot x reader #spot conlon x reader #newsies imagines #newsies imagine #newsies x reader

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cryingevanafton · 4 months

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In the modern era, tell me Race wouldn't be one of those people who just build complicated lego sets 24/7

#then spot be like: 'wtf race'#newsies #racetrack higgins #jack kelly #davey jacobs #spot conlon #racetrack newsies #david jacobs #sprace #newsies broadway #newsies imagines

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toecheesitz · 1 year

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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

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crazyk-imagine · 2 years

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Nervous

Pairing: Davey Jacobs x Reader

Characters: Reader, Jack Kelly, Davey Jacobs

Warning: Jack is a little shit, everyone (secretly) ships the two of you together

Word Count: 948

*Set in modern times and the Newsies live together

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“He always gets nervous talking to pretty girls,” Jack says, wrapping an arm around Davey’s shoulders.

You nod, “uh huh.”

“What?”

You glance between the two, seeing a nervous and flushed cheek Davey and overly confidant Jack makes you believe the latter but, you also hope it’s not true because you want to have a conversation with Davey. You raise a brow, “do you always need to speak for him?”

Jack shakes his head, “no, no. He’s all brains, believe me.”

“Okay,” you slowly say. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Okay,” Jack nods.

“Okay.”

“Why did this all of a sudden turn into a war?” Albert asks out loud.

The other newsies shush him, far too engrossed with this good old “Texan standoff” stare down.

“You don’t need to be so rude,” Albert adds, slightly hurt. He asked a perfectly fine and reasonable question.

“Bert, buddy, shut up before yous get a Brooklyn beat down,” Spot chimes in, looking his friend in the eyes.

Albert looks away, mumbling, “I told you not to call me Burt.”

“How about this?” Jack adds, diverting yours and Davey’s attention away from the two. “You and my man, Davey here,” he pats Davey’s shoulder. “Go out and I’m sure he’ll tell you all about his ideas… at some point.”

Davey’s shoulders sag, not feeling very confident about this.

You tilt your head, “are you asking me out on a date on his behalf?”

Jack shrugs, “I guess I am. What do you say?”

You squint at Jack, pursing your lips, slightly thinking of beating the overly confident Jack in your head.

Why did he, of all people, have to find out about your crush on his friend?

You glance over at the shy and nervous boy standing before you.

It’s clear to see how uncomfortable he is with this, whether it be his friend talking for him or what, you don’t know.

“As long as he doesn’t need his interpreter.”

Davey ever so lightly glances up at you.

“Consider it done.”

“Okay,” you say with a smile.

“Okay,” Davey repeats with a smile but, not exactly the same one as you; his is a little more of a mix of emotions, more so, nervousness and excitement.

“Alright, you two crazy kids go out and have fun,” Jack wraps an arm around your shoulder, dragging you and Davey towards the front door and basically kicking you two out (temporarily of course).

“Wait- Jack- we don’t have our keys,” you spit out as fast as you can but, the door closes.

You knock once… twice… “Jack, we need at least one set of keys. The store is too far for us to walk.”

The door opens and a pair of keys are thrown at you, you frantically try to catch the keys; you take a step back and almost fall, luckily you have Davey with you.

He catches you, helping you straighten yourself out so you can stand up.

Once you realize how close the two of you were, yours and Davey’s cheeks turn as red a tomato.

You quickly step away from him, gulping, “we should go. You know how they get when they’re hungry.”

The corners of his mouth twitch slightly, “yeah. Whose keys did he throw to you?”

“Oh, uhh,” you check the key. “I think it’s yours?” You hold up the car keys so he can see.

“Of course, he did,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, let’s go.”

The drive to the store wasn’t so bad… or at least, not as awkward as you had originally thought it would be, once you found a topic the both of you could talk about.

“You can’t honestly think that Jack was right? Do you?” You ask, not wanting to give your friend a lot of credit when he’s proven to be a dumbass a lot of the time. You turn the corner, walking down the snack isle first with Davey following behind you.

“I mean- not- kind of- I don’t want to not give him credit when it was his idea, you know.”

You smile to yourself, finding him to be even cuter than before.

He walks beside you and finds you smiling. “Why are you smiling like that?”

You shrug, “no reason. I do see where you’re coming from.”

And you both continue talking about whatever interests the two of you, learning new things about each other, and whatnot.

After getting everything you two needed and paying, you’re on your way back to the newsie house.

It’s silent, all you hear are the sounds of other cars driving by; a honk here and there, the normal things you hear when you’re on the road.

This isn’t one of those awkward silences where no one’s what to talk about and it’s sort of weird but, it’s not. It’s comforting to know that you and Davey can talk about whatever and get to know each other.

'Guess Jack was right. Nope, don’t like that.’

- “You two have fun?” Jack asks, a smirk makes it’s way onto his lips. He leans onto the counter with his arms crossed.

You open the pantry, putting away the few canned items you bought and any other miscellaneous snacks you found. “I’m putting the groceries away.”

“You can multi-task.”

You groan, “if I throw this can at you, will you go away?”

“Why mess up this pretty face?”

“Someone’s cocky.”

“Someone’s avoiding the question.”

“I… didn’t find it as awkward as I thought it was going to be.”

“So, you liked going out shopping with my boy Davey?”

“Go away.” He chuckles, “you did. Someone had a good time with their crush.”

“Shut up!”

“Never.”

#newsies 1992 #newsies musical #davey jacobs #davey jacobs imagine #davey jacobs imagines #davey jacobs x reader #davey jacobs x you #newsies imagines #newsies imagine #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #crazyk-imagine

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cowboy-caboodles · 3 months

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Off-Screen Apologies

Because i saw someone’s reblog saying we missed the opportunity to have a javey apology scene, because Davey deserved to be angry at Jack, and we deserved to see that happen between them, and also because i am possibly working on a little fic about the off-screen interaction.

(I drew just the end snippet of what would be an entire apology with much more lecturing from Davey, just as an excuse to draw boys smooching)

#character art #newsies #livesies #davey jacobs #jack kelly #javey newsies #on the roof #i just imagine it happens like at midnight #and jack finds davey’s apartment and climbs up the fire escape #i just really believe he got off without apologizing to like any of the newsies #i want to see the hard scary conversations where jack learns it’s ok to lean on his friends #grrrrr #bark bark #i’m so normal

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iloverace · 3 months

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what if they aren’t singing about what THEY want in kony

so this whole song comes from Race wanting to like build morale

so I’m thinking he’s trying to like..entice the other newsies with things that he knows they love/really really want

ex. Race knows Romeo’s shoelaces have been mismatched ever since one of them snapped, so he’s all like “a pair of new shoes with matching laces”

then Romeo obviously knows how much Race would love to go to Sheepshead and not have to sit on the fence, so he’s like “a permanent box at the Sheepshead races”

also if this applies, Les knowing that Davey feels super squished into the bed they share?? like omg he’s so cute

#these boys know each other so well #if money was no object I imagine them buying each other stuff all the freaking time #newsies #king of new york

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livesincerely · 3 months

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“Jack,” Davey murmurs, close enough that he can feel the whisper of his breath against his cheeks. “Apparently you haven’t noticed, but we’ve been dating for years. Tomorrow is our three-year anniversary.”

Jack, who had been swaying towards the warmth of Davey’s body, towards the promise of a kiss, freezes dead in his tracks. “What?”

But Davey just smiles. “Three years,” he repeats calmly.

“No, no, I heard you the first time, I jus’…” Jack shakes his head, hard, as if that with somehow make any of what’s happening make any kind of sense. “What?”

“When’s the last time you had sex with anyone but me?” Davey prompts—impossibly patient, all things considered. “Or went out on a date? Gave someone your number?”

“Not in fuckin’ ages,” Jack sputters, offended at the very thought. “You an’ me, we’ve got a good thing goin’. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You wouldn’t cheat on me?” Davey specifies, tilting his head.

“Course not!”

“Why would it be cheating if we aren’t together?” Davey asks, pointedly.

Jack stares at him, trying to find the riddle hidden in Davey’s question. Because… Because…

“Oh,” he says blankly.

Davey laughs, curling his hands around Jack’s waist. “Oh,” he agrees.

“Three years?” Jack asks weakly.

“Jackie,” Davey sighs, apparently realizing that Jack needs this spelled out to him. “We live together. We share a bedroom. We spent last Christmas at your mom’s house and you introduced me to Charlie’s kids as ‘Uncle David’.”

“Oh,” Jack says again, because it really bears repeating. “How the hell have you managed to put up with my dumbass for three fucking years?”

“It probably helps that I’m madly in love with you,” Davey says, rolling his eyes even as another soft smile curls over his lips.

“Huh,” Jack says. It’s maybe not the best response, but it’s honestly a miracle he manages to say anything at all.

“You’re in love with me too,” Davey helpfully informs him.

“Well, I knew that part,” Jack huffs. Then, “How did you know that?”

“Because I know you,” Davey says, lacing their fingers together. “But feel free to say it aloud any time you like.”

“I love you, too,” Jack murmurs.

Davey’s smile is like the first days of spring: bright like sunshine, full of promise and full of hope.

And the taste of his kiss is even better.

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*editor's note #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #this is another one of those scene’s that just sort of came to me #i imagine the context is that Davey mentions going out for their anniversary and Jack immediately blue screens #cue Jack trying to ‘’’’subtly’’’’ figure out what the fuck Davey’s talking about #and Davey just being like *deep sigh*#didn’t know they were dating #well Davey did

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newsiesimagines · 28 days

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Newsies Imagines #48

#newsies #newsies imagines #92sies #newsies 1992 #1992sies #newsies racetrack #racetrack higgins

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jackmkelly · 2 months

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happy womens month to the brooklyn girls and kath and medda sarah and smalls and hannah and sniper and the boweries and

#newsies #women in newsies :’)#gotta be my fave thing in the world #spot conlon i will never think of you and imagine a man ever again <3 #happy womens month #😁😁

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heliads · 11 months

Note

: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.

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