#racetrack higgins fluff

[youaintnothinbuta]

Fuck it out - racetrack higgins x reader

Summary: you and Race cannot get along. You fight and fight and fight— finally you get on Jacks last nerve and he shoves the pair of you into a room and won’t let you leave until your issues are solved. You and Race end up fucking the frustration out.

Pairing: fem!reader x Racetrack Higgins

Word count: 2000 (it’s worth the read though ladies, I promise)

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, coarse language, angst, arguing

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Race loathed you more than anyone in the world, and the feeling was entirely mutual. It was a deep-seated animosity that festered between you two.

He hated the way he could hear your laugh over anyone else’s. He hated the way you walk into a room and suddenly everyone’s eyes are glued to you. He hated how your arguments left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Most of all, he hated the way you teased him.

From the moment the pair of you laid eyes on each other, you just utterly despised each other. All the Newsies knew it. At first, they tried to mediate the situation, to convince you both that the other wasn't as unbearable as you thought. It didn’t help though. Now, plan A was keep you two separated, and if that plan failed, plan B was to not leave you alone together, and plans C through Z were to simply ignore your arguments and let you two yell at each other.

You did feel guilty, of course, for putting your friends through that. The arguments- that is. You just couldn’t help it— you couldn’t see how no one else was this bothered by him.

This day, you and the newsies -including Race- were hanging outside the lodge. It was a nice day, late afternoon, sunny but not too hot, everyone was laughing and messing around like they always did. Everyone was enjoying themselves, except you and Race, who were predictably at each other's throats, bickering, it was a constant competition to see who could say the most hurtful thing to the other. Jack, who was sitting next to you, sighed heavily.

“I’m getting desperate. Please, just stop fighting for once.” Jack’s hand reached for your wrist.

“Tell him that to him then, not me!” You pointed accusingly at Race, who found it quite amusing that Jack’s telling-off seemed directed more towards you.

“Hah! See! Told you you’re the problem!” Race snickered.

“Enough!” Jack shouted, standing up. His one hand gripped onto your wrist again, the other found a handle on the back of Race’s shirt collar. He pulled you both off of your asses and dragged you up the steps and into the housing lodge, yelling at everyone to get out of one of the rooms as he shoved the pair of you in there.

“I am sick and TIRED of this. I’m done! Grow up and figure your shit out, there is no reason why you need to be fightin’ all the time. I don’t care what you need to do, yell it out, fuck it out, fuckin’ beat it out of each other- Just make it stop!” He slammed the door behind him as he exited, leaving you and Race to stare at each other like embarrassed little kids that had just been told off in front of their classmates.

You immediately went for the door knob, but to no avail. Jack must have taken one of the door stops and kicked it underneath, locking you in. Didn’t matter. You knew Jack, if you got out he’d just drag you back in again until everything was resolved. And what was that he said?

You just stood, back leant against the door, watching Race peek out the window to see Jack back down with the Newsies. It did sort of hurt him to see how much happier everyone looked the second you two weren’t around. You stood for a while, without moving, so did he, neither of you knowing what to say or do.

“I ha— I hate that we bother them so much.” He muttered, breaking the silence, still looking out.

You paused, momentarily taken aback. Race had just said something you actually agreed with? Unheard of.

“Me too,” You spoke quietly, peeling your back off the door, making your way over to Race. As you joined him at the window, your intent was to see what the boys were doing outside. He occupied most of the space in front of the window, leaving you at his side, your shoulders lightly brushing against each other. Your focus shifted from the view through the glass to the view beside you. You found yourself watching Race’s face with a newfound intensity, your gaze tracing the lines of his features as if you were seeing them for the first time.

You took note of the subtle curve of his lips, the way they naturally sat in a slight smile. Your eyes moved lower, and you couldn't help but appreciate the defined edge of his jawline.

Race could feel your stare. His gaze shifted to meet yours. His eyes locked onto your face as he too began to study your features. It was a silent exchange, a dance of mutual observation that sent a shiver down your spine.

You watched his eyes move down your face, tracing the contours of your neck, before returning to meet your gaze. The intensity in his stare was palpable, yet still so gentle, and you couldn't deny the way it made your heart rate increase.

The two of you lingered in front of each other, locked in an unspoken exchange, carefully observing each other's features as the space between your bodies continued to dwindle.

His eyes drifted shut, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation. Was Racetrack Higgins about to kiss you? And more importantly, why weren't you doing anything to stop it? Your heart raced as your own eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer, until your lips met his, bridging the gap between you. His hand instinctively sought out the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him. Your fingers wove into his hair as the kiss deepened, and Race couldn't help but release a soft, involuntary moan. The sound made you laugh against his lips.

He gripped your hips in response, pressing them into his, letting you feel his growing bulge, dragging you over him. You let out a needy cry, it was his turn to laugh at your desperation.

With a sense of urgency, your fingers began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Race responded to the rising passion between you by swiftly pushing you against the wall, his desire growing more intense. Sensing your hesitation with the buttons, he decided to take matters into his own hands, pulling his shirt over his head. His undershirt came along with it, dropping to the floor beside his feet.

Your gaze lingered on the enticing sight before you—the defined contours of his chest, the sculpted muscles inviting exploration. He watched you with a smile as you studied him, thinking it adorable the way you unconsciously bit your bottom lip. You couldn't resist the temptation to trace your fingers along the lines of his torso, feeling the warmth and strength that lay beneath his skin.

As his fingers traced a fiery trail up your legs, your hands reciprocated his movements, gliding over his back and savoring the warmth of his skin. The intimacy of the moment deepened as you kissed and gently sucked on the tender skin of his shoulders, his fingers tugged at the seam of your panties, wanting a feel of the fabric that had been rubbing against you.

“All because of me?” He looked up at you, grinning as the pad of his fingers glided across the slick that had coated your underwear.

“You’re not one to talk.” Your hand reached between his thighs, cupping the bulge in his pants, his mouth fell agape at the feeling of your hand against him.

He scoffed, laughing, before attacking your neck softly with his lips, his tongue dragging over the curve of your jaw. He nipped lightly at the skin of your neck, moving a little each time, searching for the spot that would—

“Oh.” You sighed.

Found it.

You dropped your face to reconnect your lips to his, the pad of his thumb pressed into where your clit was located below your underwear. He felt you nip at his lip at the action, tugging at it as another moan slipped from your mouth.

“You here to fuck me or tease me?” You mumbled between kissing him.

“I dunno, teasing you is kinda fun.” He smiled.

“Don’t think I’ll beg for you. I won’t.” You snarked as you nipped at his ear, kissing his jaw. He let you continue to place hot kisses all over his neck and jaw, taking the opportunity to get his pants off from around his waist, dropping his underwear with them. You felt the warm, soft skin of his cock against your thigh, a small gasp escaping your lips as you looked down at what your body was about to take in. He dipped a finger inside of you, then another, preparing you for him.

“Race.” You sighed his name, asking him to hurry up. Race’s fingers were soaked as he pulled them from your core. The tip of his cock slid between your folds, being coated by your juices as he pushed inside of you. Race didn’t care to hold back the volume of his groan as he felt your body stretch around him. Your eyes squeezed shut as you breathed out, god, any more of him and you’d be torn in half.

Race took a thumb to his mouth and collected a string of saliva on the tip of it before bringing it to your clit, drawing small circles, trying to replace your discomfort with pleasure.

He struggled to pull out of you, your walls so tight they practically sucked him back in, slowly he pushed back inside of you, picking up the pace slightly with every thrust. Both of your eyes were fixed on the sight of his body pushing into yours, until he looked up at your face, making your cheeks burn red as the realisation of what you were doing set in.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare, hm?” He cupped your face. Your mind was racing, never in a million years would you have considered Race to be gentle. The tip of his cock slammed against your cervix, releasing a series of angelic moans from you. His fingertips curled around either side of your hips, gripping you as he continued thrusting into you to hit that exact spot again and again, and he felt your legs begin to shake against his own.

What the hell? How was someone like him bringing you to orgasm this quickly? It took you longer on your own.

Race had barely even begun to feel his orgasm build, and already he had you on the verge of release. He seemed just as perplexed as he felt your walls begin to contract and spasm around him. The cry of his name and the way your body became limp as he held you against the wall, he knew just as you did- it took only minutes to get you off. The way your pussy gripped his cock during your release made it almost impossible for him to move, not that he wanted to, it felt far too good. He watched your face as pleasure rolled through your body, jolting you forward periodically.

His lips brushed over your flushed chest, your pussy loosened its grip on him, and he left you no time to breathe before going back to thrusting himself in and out of you. You caught him off guard when grinding against him, pushing his cock deeper inside of you for him. You took in every detail of his face. The swear that started to bead around his hairline, the way his jaw hung slightly open with focus, the blush that was creeping up his ears, the way his eyes seemed an even brighter blue when they were so full of lust. Even through all your hatred for him, you couldn’t deny how he beautiful he looked while railing you.

He couldn’t hold on much longer but he’d be damned to give you the satisfaction of knowing how quick you could make him cum if he wasn’t trying to keep his composure. Your legs were threatening to give out on you. If it wasn’t for his grip on your waist holding you flush against the wall you might have collapsed into a heap of convulsing pleasure at his feet. Your now not-so-swallowed moans increased, there wasn’t any hope for trying to choke them back. Race had ruined every moral you had that day. His moans began to mix with yours.

“Look at me.” He mumbled, you didn’t even realise your eyes had closed. His hazed filled eyes bore into yours, the pleasured smirk that painted his face was only ruined by his own groans. It was too much. Too much pleasure. Too much hatred. Too much desire. Race shoved a few more erratic thrusts into you before pinning the skirt of your dress around your waist and spurting his cum out onto your thighs, a string of satisfied moans coming with it. He watched as his hot come dribbled down your thighs, taking a thumb to rub some of it against you, feeling his seed coat your soft skin.

The room that was just engrossed by moans and whines and sex was now left with the quiet sound of heavy breathing.

Your body trembled with residual pleasure as you tried to comprehend what the hell just happened. You hated Race; yet he was the one who left you so full of pleasure and indulgence you couldn’t even think straight. He took a step away from you, giving you some space as he caught his breath. You breathed out, your legs unsteady as tried to take a step forward.

Race chuckled, re-approaching you, wrapping an arm around your head, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You, too, let out a shy laugh, he tried to hide a grin as he pulled his pants back up.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “You look like you live in a bawdy house.” He quipped, tossing a shirt off the floor to you to wipe yourself clean.

“Should I remind you who just came all over me?” You argued.

“Should I remind you how quickly you came?” He retorted, laying on his bed, an arm extended inviting you to lay with him. What the hell was happening? Race Higgins had just fucked the daylight out of you, went immediately back to arguing with you, and now was holding you as you laid on his chest.

You didn’t say anything as you laid together. You felt gross. Not internally. Physically. Like your underwear felt soaked against you- and not in a sexy way.

“You alright?” Race asked, feeling your sigh sink into his chest.

Why did he care?

“My own bodily fluids are squelching against me. What do you think?”

He chuckled, “Someone’s grumpy. Was one orgasm not enough?” He teased, reaching his hands down to push your underwear off of you. You sat up in shock, thinking for a moment he was going for round two.

“Relax, just getting these off so you’re a bit more comfortable.” He pulled them off your ankles and dropped them on the floor, his hands finding your back, guiding you back down to lay on him again.

He reached for his comforter, pulling it up to cover your back. “You just relax, sweetheart. I know you’re probably tired.”

Why was he caring for you? Why was he looking after you? God, you hated him. You hated how this was the safest you’d ever felt. Your expression on your face loosened as your mind drifted further and further from consciousness, your eyes slowly closing as the rhythm of his breathing underneath you lulled you into a nap. He too, with the comfort of your weight on his body, was able to drift off into a nap, forgetting entirely about the fact that Jack and the rest of the newsies were just downstairs.

[sl-newsie]

2024 Christmas Specials 🎄

Merry Christmas and have a happy New Year!

[bow-of-aros]

Day Fourteen: Lose

Summary: Race REALLY shouldn't have messed with Jack, because he gives back twice as good as he gets.

Totally worth it.

-

Hey folks! Part two of my Newsies fic for the Win and Lose prompts and I'm pretty darn proud of this. Hope that y'all enjoy <33

-

“Jack! Jack wait!” Race cried as he weaved between the bunks in the lodging house.

Look, Jack might be stronger, but Race is faster, so as long as he keeps out of reach, he’ll be safe. If he’s caught, he’d better say his prayers and hope for a swift and merciful death.

“I ain’t waitin’ Racer!” Race felt fingers catch on the hem of his sleeve and he twisted away, swinging around a corner faster than he probably should’ve, “You brought this on yourself!”

He caught sight of the door. That door meant freedom, it meant he’d gotten away with full bragging rights and most of his dignity.

Race had taken about two steps towards that door before Albert stepped through.

“Albert! Get outta the way—”

“Albert! Don’t let him escape!”

Their voices overlapped and Albert froze in a moment of confusion and indecision.

Apparently, that moment was all that Jack had needed as he finally grabbed ahold of Race, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

Now, Race has managed to squirm his way out of a lot of fights. He’s skinny and he’s slippery, so not a lot of people are able to keep ahold of him.

That doesn’t apply to Jack Kelly.

After a couple of near escapes, Jack manages to roll himself on top of Race, leveraging his greater body weight and effectively trapping him.

Other newsies had been filtering in during their little scuffle and Race thanked whatever god was out there that this was commonplace enough that most of them just laughed and moved on, leaving Jack to exact whatever punishment that he deemed fit for the unknown crime Race had committed.

Of course, some of the newsies just had to stick their noses in.

“Hey, Jack!” Henry called out, “What did he do?”

“He scared me half to death is what he did! Jeez kid—” Jack broke off, finally managing to catch one of Race’s flailing arms and hold it off to the side, “And then he attacked me! I mean, the disrespect! Can you guys believe it?”

Race almost managed to slip out, but was caught at the last second and pulled back. A hand darted down to squeeze his side and he knew that he didn’t have much time left.

“Yeah! I did what you lot have been trying to do for ages! I spooked Jack Kelly! I wihihihin! Wahahahahait! Jack nonono shihihihihit!”

Jack had given up on getting control of his other arm, deciding to launch his counterstrike on Race’s vulnerable side, trusting that he’d be more concerned with defending himself than trying to escape.

Race hated that he was right.

“Racetrack Higgins! What are you thinking using that kind of language in front of the littles?” Jack was grinning, darting from his sides to poking at his ribs to skittering across his stomach, all the while Race tried fruitlessly to curl up in defense.

“Oh fuhuhuhuck yohohou!” He barely got through his sentence before Jack reached behind him to squeeze at his knees, drawing an unholy screech that faded back to frantic cackling.

This is how Race was going to die. He’d wanted Jack’s attention and now he was going to die.

“PLEASE! Jack plehehehehease! I’m sohohohorry!”

Yeah, he’s stooped to begging. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

“I dunno, Race,” Jack said, moving his fingers up to Race’s neck to let him catch his breath between childlike giggles, “I ain’t never lost anything before, and I definitely don’t plan on starting now.”

“So,” He continued, deftly tracing whatever side of Race’s neck wasn’t scrunched up “Ise thinkin’ that, if you admit that I win and you lose, I’ll have mercy on you. Whaddaya think?”

Race didn’t even think before shooting back, “No way! I won and—NO! JAHAHAHACK WAITWAITWAHAHAIT!”

Jack had let go of his arm, reaching one hand back to his knees again and letting the other one knead at his side. It was evil. It was evil and it was unfair.

And it was totally going to work.

“OKAY! Okahahahay you wihihihin! Jack plehehehease!” All dignity was being thrown out the window, Race was tugging at one of Jack’s hands with both of his own and nothing.

He really was at Jack’s mercy.

“What was that? Don’t think I caught it through all your screamin’.”

Oh, Race is goona wipe that teasing smirk right offa Jack’s face as soon as he’s out of this.

“You win! I lohohohose!” Jack hummed thoughtfully, slowing but not quite stopping, “I sahahahaid it now let me gohohohoho!”

“Alright alright. Don’t go getting your panties in a twist, I’m done.”

Jack heaved himself up, letting Race curl into a ball and ride out the last of his giggles, sucking in greedy, slightly exaggerated breaths.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and Race turned to see Jack reaching down a hand to help him up. A peace offering that Race accepted as he let Jack pull him to his feet.

“You, Jack Kelly, are an evil man!”

There was no heat in his voice, and any that might’ve been there was undermined by the way Race leaned into Jack when he slung his arm across his shoulders.

Jack just laughed at him, “Whatever, kid. You know, next time you miss me and want some attention, all you hafta do is say so.”

His tone dipped into something a little more genuine, “I know I’m not here as much, but I still care about all of youse,” He ruffled Race’s hair pointedly, “Even the ones who like to cause trouble.”

They sat down on one of the couches, and when Race half-heartedly tried to pull away, Jack just held firm until Race slumped down against him. It was nice, maybe Race had missed this more than he’d cared to admit.

“Yeah, sure.” Then, a little quieter, “I care about you too.”

“Atta boy.”

Race knew that Jack would be gone again tomorrow, but he was here tonight, chatting with the other newsies while his arm remained a comforting weight that warmed Race from the inside out.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to lose sometimes.

[clevereverest]

“Now or Never” - 13/13 Multichapter (Complete)

Chapter 1 • “Prologue”

Chapter 2 • “13 Days to Game Night”

Chapter 3 • “10 Days to Game Night”

Chapter 4 • “9 Days to Game Night”

Chapter 5 • “8 Days to Game Night (Part 1)”

Chapter 6 • “8 Days to Game Night (Part 2)”

Chapter 7 • “7 Days to Game Night (Part 1)”

Chapter 8 • “7 Days to Game Night (Part 2)

Chapter 9 • “5 Days to Game Night”

Chapter 10 • “3 Days to Game Night”

Chapter 11 • “1 Day to Game Night”

Chapter 12 • “Spot’s Game Night”

Chapter 13 • “Epilogue”

{—————————————}

Summary and tags below!

[mrshottie]

Hi guys! This is a little get to know me/my blog!

I’m 19 (no weirdos)

I love hot men and women if you ask me i’m straight though

My top 5 favorite shows are

Criminal Minds

Greys Anatomy

The Summer I Turned Pretty

Brooklyn 99

Outer Banks

My top 5 favorite movies are

Top Gun Maverick

Twisters

Newsies Broadway Version (i’m a theatre kid)

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Percy Jackson ATO (i know it’s not book accurate)

I write for

Most OBX Characters

Most TGM Characters

Tyler Owens

Spencer Reid

Racetrack Higgins (Broadway)

Conrad Fisher

Anyone else, just request!

I will write smut, but only when I deem it appropriate.

I will give warnings for any sensitive topics in any writing!

I hope you enjoy!

[spracemodernau]

what are some stupidly domestic things you do with each other ? :))

"Spot washes my hair for me! I dunno if that counts as domestic.... uhhhh...whenever I'm tired I lie my head on his chest as he does.... Spot things...his pecs are better than all our pillows."

"Race tries to teach me how to slow dance when he's waiting for food to cook :)"

[the-real-spot-conlon]

Race, sitting on the floor in front of the fridge at 3 am:

Spot, barely awake: babe, kindly, what the hell are you doing?

Race: *turns to Spot holding a jar of pickles* pickles.

Spot: oh. Can I join?

*proceeds to eat pickles together at 3 am*

[amelia-friend]

unveiling constellations

Race and Albert keep stealing Race's cigar back and forth while they're hiding from the rest of the newsies (because the Littles are having a meltdown over something and they don't want to be forced into actually being the responsible ones and deal with it). Then they figure out a far more enjoyable way to spend their time.

1,200 words of Fluff happens. (Or you can read on AO3: here)

It was not, by any means, the first time they had found themselves in this particular alleyway. Not that it was anything special – narrow enough to touch the building on either side even with their elbows bent, with a crook in the middle that made it a perfect haven from prying eyes, and close enough to the lodging house to hear the screaming, and return in a hurry if it reached the necessary levels. It was a nice enough place, somewhere to be themselves, relax in companionable silence alongside some who understands, without the pressures of the day weighing too heavily. Tonight felt different though, the air was charged with an unusual tension, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

Race leaned against the cool brick wall, twisting the unlit cigar idly in between his fingers. He didn’t actually smoke them, they were far too expensive for that, but it was an easy habit, something to do with his fingers that didn’t betray his anxieties as easily as other habits he could have picked up. Albert stood a few steps away, gazing up at the night sky without seeing. He remembered a time when he was young, back when he had a ma and a pa and brothers that weren’t cold and dead in the grave, they’d gone far out of the city once, far enough for the lights and the noise and the bustle to disappear into nothingness. Albert had stared at the night sky then too, except it was the star he was staring at. Countless stars stretching on into eternity – even as a kid it had been the most beautiful thing Albert had ever seen. You don’t get stars like that in the city. He took a step away, hoping the physical action would help shake the thoughts, the memories from his body, but only succeeding in catching the toe of his boot in a small crack in the pavement, stumbling without warning. The hand he reached out was nothing short of instinctual, landing square on Race’s chest.

Their eyes met, and for a moment nothing happened, a shared expression of surprise and uncertainty passing between them. “I, uh… Sorry Race,��� Albert stammered after far too long a pause, his cheeks colouring to match the faint red of his hair, as he carefully pried his hand away, as if it had been stuck with a remarkably tacky glue. Race’s lips only curved into a faint smile, bemused more so than any other emotion. “No harm done, Al. Accidents happen.” He spun the cigar between his fingers in much the same manner as Albert had once watched a fire-breather dance with the flames the time he snuck into the circus. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Albert adjusted his standing subtly, his fingers darting out and snatching Race’s cigar in one deft movement, the tips of his fingers brushing against Race’s as he took hold of the cigar’s paper, almost spinning as he moved just out of reach of Race instinctual first grab to take it back. There was a moment where time seemed to stand still, Albert holding his unfairly earned bounty aloft, a smirk dancing in the his eyes more so than the edges of his lips, as he looked at Race expecting a playful protest in response. But instead of the carefree banter he had anticipated, the tension between them only seemed to intensify. Albert's fingers tightened around the cigar, and his heart skipped a beat as Race's gaze bore into his own.

In an instant, the tables turned. Race's hand darted forward, moving with a speed hard-earned from years working on the streets, reclaiming his cigar from Albert’s grasp. Their eyes lock, and … … nothing.

Albert looks away. "You always have to make it look so easy, don't you?" Albert mused, more to himself than to Race, but still there was that hint of admiration in his voice. Race shrugged, an easy gesture that seemed to imply so much more. His gaze softening as he caught Albert's eyes and refused to look away. "Just do what feels right, Al. Ain't no use complicatin' things."

As he spoke, their proximity seemed to magnify, the space between them diminishing until their breaths mingled in the chilly air. The moment hung suspended, their heartbeats echoing the same rhythm. Time seemed to slow, the words twisting through Albert’s brain, and his gaze dropped to Race's lips, a subtle hesitation flickering in his eyes. There wasn’t a conscious thought, not one intentional decision, as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against Race's for the briefest of moments.

The touch was electric, a jolt of recognition that left him speechless. He barely had a moment to process what was happening before Albert jerked back, his own expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty, as if even he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

A heartbeat passed. And another.

The alleyway felt like the universe and the universe felt like the alleyway, all folding in on itself and each other until there was nothing else, no one else. Just them, and the moment, and the silence.

Race's fingers brushed against his own lips, his mind racing to catch up with his heart. Albert's breath came in shallow, uneven waves, his gaze locked onto Race's, hopeful terror burned into his eyes.

The silence stretched. A heartbeat passed. And another.

There wasn’t a conscious thought, not one intentional decision. Race closed the gap between them.

His fingers tangled in the fabric of Albert's coat, the cigar dropped to the floor, lonely and forgotten, as their lips met again, this time with a deliberate tenderness that sent shivers down the spines of both boys. The kiss deepened, a emotions that had been long suppressed, long ignored bursting to the surface and making themselves very intentionally known. There was no world outside the alley. There was only the moment and the alley and each other.

Eventually they had to breath, but that didn’t mean they had to separate – foreheads touching to replace their lips, breath intermingling.

There was no world outside the alley. There was no world outside them.

Albert’s voice returned to him first, laden with emotions. “Race…” Race’s eyes couldn’t not meet Albert’s, an identical mixture of vulnerability and longing swirling within them. The unspoken words hung in the air between them, shared desire and uncertainty, weighing the air between them. “Al…” he breathed back, the rest of his vocabulary stolen from him.

Albert's fingers brushed against Race's cheek, his touch a gentle caress that held a world of tenderness, eyes fluttering shut. It was a gesture that spoke volumes. It was a silent affirmation of what they could no longer turn away from. It was a confirmation of their connection in a world that would seek only to tear them apart. It was the flicker of that possibility, a brand new path suddenly illuminated where before had only been darkness.

It may not have been their first time hiding in the alleyway, narrow and crooked and close to the lodging house. But as they closed the gap between themselves for the third time, they were sure it would definitely not be their last. Albert let himself fall into eternity. Who needed stars anyway?

[orcaofmyheart99]

Am I Gay?

Jack always felt a little different, even though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. After Jack met Davey though, his whole world changed. Something just clicked. 

“This is my brother Davey” Les introduced his older brother. 

Jack stared at the taller boy, with kind, brown eyes who was dressed impeccably. There was something about the pressed shirt, clean shoes and tie tucked into the boy’s vest.

“Nice to meet you Davey” Jack greeted him with his usual careless bravado, trying not to let the butterflies in his stomach take over. No one had ever made him feel this way. Not even Kathrine. Jack was both afraid and excited about this new feeling. The best way he would describe it was like seeing snow on Christmas Eve. After selling papers with Davey and Les, Jack was even more certain about his emotions towards Davey. 

After getting back to the newsie’s group house, Jack logged onto the internet to try and find out what was going on with him. He always had assumed he was straight but Davey was making him question everything. This was the first time he had ever considered another boy cute. This was the first time another person had thrown him off his usual confidence The very first thing Jack searched for was “am I gay quiz?” He took the quiz, unsure what the outcome would be. The quiz said he was more likely gay than straight. The next quiz Jack took was “Am I bisexual?” The answer was most definitely yes to this one. After the two quizzes, Jack read some articles about queer identity. If he was gay or bi he thought he should know more about those identities. As Jack was closing the tabs on the laptop, Race suddenly came bursting into the room. Before Jack could slam the computer shut, Race caught a glimpse of what Jack had been looking at. Jack was flustered but tried to remain composed.

“Is there something you need Race?”

Race just stood there, not knowing what to say. 

“Umm, well I did. But now I forget. Why were you looking at that stuff?” Race asked with an inquisitive face.

“No reason. Just bored is all. Anyways I should head to bed. Early morning. Papes won’t sell themselves.”

“Yea I’m sure the papes need all the help they can get. Especially from Davey.”

Jack almost dropped his computer that he was putting away.

Race smirked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jack said, trying to hide his blushing.

“Yeah, you do. I mean you were making total heart eyes at Davey today. You could barely muster anything to say to him.”

Jack looked up at Race.

“Was it really that obvious?” He asked, concerned.

“Well, I noticed. And some of the other’s probably. And maybe Davey. But it is good that you are trying to find out your identity.”

Jack nodded

“Just don’t say anything to the others or Davey?”

“Of course not Jack! If you need to talk about anything I am here. Oh and what I was going to tell you was that Spot has been catfishing the Delancy brothers.”

Jack laughed at this.

The next day, the headline was once again about the writers and actors strike. It seemed like it had been going on for far too long. There seemed to be no end in sight. The producers and studio exec seemed happy to just wait out their workers. Which was something not even a certain demon would think of or approve of. 

As everyone was pairing up, Race casually told Les that he could tag along with him and Spot. Les was excited about this opportunity. 

Race winked at Jack, causing Jack to blush.

“Ok, well it looks like Davey and Jack have to team up then. Don’t worry us and Les won’t get into too much trouble.” Race said, smiling at Davey.

Davey seemed alright with this and he and Jack went off to sell some papes. Jack was quiet which was very strange for him. Somehow just being in Davey’s presence was enough to cause him to go completely silent. Davey, who was himself pretty introverted, didn't start any conversation. It was nice just sharing a peaceful walk. Upon reaching their corner, Jack began talking to the strangers on the street, hustling them. Davey watched him work, taking mental notes on how Jack approached everyone differently. Jack was flirting with an older woman, attempting to get her to purchase a pape. Davey felt a little bit of jealousy rise in him. He quickly shook it off. Telling himself that Jack was not interested in men. The other boys had made it pretty clear that Jack was very much a ladies man. The woman bought the newspaper and walked away grinning. After about half an hour, Jack and Davey headed back to meet up with the others. Everyone went out for dinner to Jacobi’s deli. Race made sure Davey and Jack sat across from each other. Jack was feeling worn out. Trying to keep his composure around Davey was exhausting. He hungrily dug into his sandwich and chips. Trying not to make eye contact with Davey. Les and Davey started to head back home to see their folks. Before they could make it too far Race said out loud to Jack 

“So how was selling papes with him? It was better than those stupid quizzes, right?” 

“What quizzes?” Davey asked.

Race started stumbling on his words. He said something to the effect “spot needs me” and ran off leaving Jack completely humiliated. 

Jack could either lie to Davey or come clean. He decided to do the second, knowing that it was a matter of time before the others would hear of his crush on Davey and he didn’t want Davey to hear it from anyone but himself. 

“I have been feeling kinda off my game. I just took some quizzes last night and Race kinda walked in on me.” Jack said, looking at the ground. 

Davey raised his eyebrows. 

“Nothing super weird or anything” Jack added hurriedly. 

“I just ummm. Here is the thing Davey. I thought I was straight but after meeting you yesterday. I know we have only known each other for two days and it seems strange that after just meeting someone you question your whole identity, but that is what you made me do. Fact is, no girl has made me feel the way you do. I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s like this warm strange feeling. Like when I am around you, everything is going to be ok. I don’t know if you feel the same way or nothing…” Jack said trailing off, wishing he could just disappear into the setting sun.

Davey walked closer to Jack.

“Of course I feel the same way. I was really worried that you might not like me. I felt some immediate pull towards you. I can’t quite put my fingers on it, but there is something about you Jack Kelly that I loved the moment I met you” Davey replied.

There was a mutual sigh between them. Both felt immense relief.

Davey gently took Jack’s hands.

“How about we go on a proper date tomorrow? After selling papes? There is a nice deli near my house we can go. Maybe go have a picnic in the park?”

“That sounds great Davey” Jack said grinning.

They parted ways, happy to know that they had found the one person who truly made everything alright.

[sandy-the-glader]

Sooo I’m obsessed with newsies (again) since I decided to rewatch it recently. And I wanna write for Racetrack or some other characters I just gotta know if I should/you guys would be down 😗

Also who do you guys wanna see?? Send me some more requests and Ill try to be more on it lol (especially for newsies stuff.)

[amoreva]

I JUST BINGE READ ALL OF YOUR RACE FICS AND YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD AAA💕💕 it feels like he’s real and the relationship is real and i’m actually in the world of the story holy shit,,, if you’re still taking requests can you write some race fluff, preferably in canon era, with like a cute lead up to him getting together with the reader (if you’re okay with it of course!) thanks!!

HOPELESSLY IN LOVE

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pairing: racetrack higgins x fem!reader

summary: the brooklyn newsies are strong and independent. they can hold their own and are respected; despite being a borough with a large amount of girls. so when one falls in love, her nature begins to crumble.

warnings: n/a

a/n: using the uksies as brooklyn, plus some from the broadway show. also, omfg i really appreciate it, thank you so much<3

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

You never knew what romantic attraction felt like until you saw him at Medda’s Theater with his stupid blue eyes, his stupid blonde curls, his stupid cigar, his stupid cute smile—

Davey— that new Manhattan newsie was introducing your borough, respectfully, when you saw him. He was smiling at you, more so at your whole borough, ecstatic you showed up to the strike. That smile—that stupid cute smile made your heart flutter, your stomach churn with butterflies.

Of course, you knew what family love and platonic attraction felt like—you felt that for every newsie in Brooklyn. They were your brothers and sisters by heart. Yet, he stole your heart. Bastard. You ought to soak him.

Falling in love was a weird thing to do, especially since your priority was the sell papers to survive. You find yourself thinking about Manhattan’s second after the strike is won.

It didn’t help that he hugged you when Kelly announced the strike ended in their favor or when you guys talked during celebrations that night. The memories haunted your sleep.

A loud groan escaped your lips. That stupid smile of his. Your hands going over your warm, rose colored face as you sat on your bunk. Ritz and Hotshot peeked their heads into the girls bunk room, hearing you groan.

“What’re moping and griping about?” Hotshot asked, crossing his arms. His thick accent ringing in your ears.

You turn to look at you friends and remove the hands from your face. Before you could get a word in, Ritz is cupping your cheeks and feeling your forehead. “You’re burning up, Y/N!” Ritz exclaimed and shook your head side to side, lightly, to inspect your red cheeks.

“Ritz, please—” You begged the auburn haired girl to let your face go.

“Spot is going to be worried.”

“Ritz—”

“I think we have medicine somewhere.”

“Ritz, hang on—“

“Water and rest, that’s what my mama says.”

“I don’t have—”

“Spot ain’t letting you sell tomorrow.”

“Ritz!”

You shouted finally getting her attention. Ritz stopped her worrying. Hotshot stood up straight with raised eyebrows. You gently put your hands on Ritz’s wrists and removed them from your face. “I ain’t sick. I ain’t coughing or feelin’ bad.”

“Then what’s got your face so red, Y/N?” Ritz asked, she titled her head ever so slightly.

“A boy.” Hotshot spoke up.

You glared at Brooklyn’s second. Were you really that readable? Hotshot had to be a fucking psychic. A smirk danced on his lips. The silence said it all.

Ritz lit up like the Fourth of July. “You like a boy!” Ritz exclaimed with a wide grin. You slapped a hand across her mouth.

“Ritz, please don’t tell the others—” You begged to convey your seriousness. “You too, Hotshot.”

Ritz, still buzzing with excitement, nodded her head. You quickly shoved Hotshot into the girls’ bunk room and shut the door. “Who is it?” Ritz asked excitedly.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. An internal dilemma with yourself. Would you rather suffer in silence, pin over a newsie in the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge or tell two people your crush which could potentially spread throughout the borough?

You decide to tell Hotshot and Ritz. Love is too confusing for you to suffer alone.

“It’s Manhattan’s second in command.” You mumbled, twisting your fingers as your face heats up. Just thinking about Race got your stomach all twisted up in a good way.

You didn’t think they heard you, but they did. Loud in clear.

“Race? Race!” Ritz confirmed.

Hotshot raised an eyebrow in amusement. “The one that “wanders” on our turf to bet at Sheepshead?”

“Yes.” You sighed exasperatedly and fell onto your bunk. “He’s just so—”

You couldn’t find the words to describe him, but then proceeded to go on a rant about Race for 10 minutes.

It wasn’t long before everyone in Brooklyn knew of your little crush on Manhattan’s second (and probably Manhattan). It was terrible with all the teasing and the questions on what you would do.

You didn’t know what to do! You would just lay in your bed and smile stupidly when you thought about him. “Pathetically in love” is what you thought.

Stray decided to do something.

With Spot’s permission (seeing you hopelessly in love was getting in the way of selling and Brooklyn’s reputation), Stray went to Manhattan. Stray had connections there. Her boyfriend and brother lived in Manhattan’s borough.

Stray told Specs, who told Elmer, who told Henry, who told Jojo, who told Mike, who told Finch, who told Race—that you liked him. When you got word that Race knew, you panicked.

Romance like that with him. You wouldn’t know how to act, what to do, or what to say. You’ve seen romance from afar; with rich couples, elderly couples, teenagers—all types of couples!

“Ya’ gotta relax, kid.” Spot patted your back after they found you contemplating your choices on your bunk. “If Racer is as half bright as you, he’ll see you’re a real gem.”

That gave you some confidence in yourself. You shouldn’t get worked up about some boy. Taking Mac’s advice seemed like the best option. “He’s just a guy!”

But, he seems real sweet and humorous and charming and ambitious. Keyword: seems. You might be setting yourself up for failure.

After days and days of dreading what you should do, Race came walking into Brooklyn, willy nilly, specifically to Graves’ and yours selling spot.

“Heya miss, can I get a pape?” Race asked.

You weren’t paying attention and grabbed a newspaper from your bag. Seeing him in front of you with his stupid blue eyes, his stupid blonde curls, his stupid cigar, his stupid cute smile—

You froze. A blush rising to your face. You spun on your heels and walked away. A fight or flight response.

Graves grabbed you with a smirk and turned you around. “Talk to him!” Graves whispered and pushed you towards Race.

He had that charming, amused smile on his face. “Hey.” He spoke, two hands on the strap of his paper bag.

“Hey.” You croaked.

“I—uh…got word, ya like me.”

“Mhm.”

Race looked at you awkwardly. If you looked hard enough, you saw a faint faint blush on cheeks. “You—uh…wanna go to the Sheepshead with me?”

“Now?” You asked incredulously.

“Now.” Graves spoke firmly. “You can sell at Sheepshead, don’t worry. I’ll be fine by myself.”

And so, you and Race went to Sheepshead Races. You held onto his arm like one of those rich ladies would do to a gentlemen. Conversation was made, no matter how awkward it was between you two.

The Sheepshead Races were loud and lively. You usually went here with Lucky and Scope when you had downtime.

“C’mon, they’ll start soon.” Race intertwined his hands with yours and pulled you through a crowd of people. “Gotta get the best seats.”

“Isn’t that the front row?” You asked, glancing back at where you and your friends would usually sit.

“Trust me, sweetheart. These seats are better than any front row.” Race grinned.

Your heart skipped a beat.

The name “sweetheart” sounded so right from his lips.

Race took you to a chainlink fence. You were close enough to see the jockeys’ faces and the horses shaking their head. The spot was at the bottom right of the original seating, in between the commentator’s box and the vendor.

He let go of your hand to lean against the fence. You frowned slightly, missing the feeling of his hand in yours. “Better than any front seat.” He repeated softly.

“Is this how you got your name?” You gestured to the races. Your nerves slowly disappearing. You were a Brooklyn newsie for Christ’s sake! Be confident!

“What?” Race shook his head as if you broke him out of his trance. “Oh—uh…kinda! That and I would be the first to the circulation gate. I’m pretty fast for a newsie.”

“You’re pretty for a newsie.” You responded without missing a beat.

“What’s that?” Race leaned in to hear you better. A smirk on his face.

Before you could respond, a gunshot sounded. Hooves slammed on the dirt track. The commentator spoke enthusiastically about the race. In no time, the horses and jockeys were passing you. The wind from them passing knocked off your newsie cape. You could practically see the sweat on the jockeies’ faces.

“Careful.” Race snaked an arm around your waist as soon as the horses passed. He pulled you towards him, concerned about your safety.

You yelped going face first into his chest. Race chuckled awkwardly. You pulled away slightly, but not out of his arms. You two met eyes, just staring. The sound of the hooves faded away.

His blue eyes, the same color as the East River, the same color as a beautiful day. No words were shared between you two. Race gulped. The tension palpable.

Cheering and groans were heard as the commentator announced the outcome. “If—you couldn’t tell…” Race spoke nervously, never tearing his eyes away from yours. “I think your cute—hell, I think your badass for being a Brooklyner.”

Usually when you saw a lady and gentleman like this, they share a kiss. Your heart was beating out of your chest. You never kissed anyone, but this seemed like the perfect moment.

“I don’t know how to kiss…” You admitted quietly.

“We don’t gotta kiss.” Race assured.

“But I want too.”

“…”

“…”

“Can I kiss ya then?”

“Please.”

The minute his lips met yours, the whole world froze. Your stomach twisted in a good warm feeling. Electricity and sparks flying with a single touch to the lips. Your brain was blanking. No words could describe a first kiss.

“Was that…okay?” Race pulled away.

“Better than okay.” You nodded firmly and pressed another kiss to his lips.

Both Race and you got a little more confident and kissed each other back. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was sweet. “There’s more to Brooklyn than the Sheepshead Races.” You pulled away this time.

“I figured.” Race laughed and ran a hand through his blonde curls. He picked up your newsie’s cap that flew off. Brushing off the dirt, he placed the cap back on your head.

“I wanna show you more places in Brooklyn.” You spoke without even realizing what you were saying.

“A date then.” Race smirked.

“A date.” You confirmed.

“Great.”

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[youaintnothinbuta]

“Why do we fight the way that we do?” - racetrack higgins x reader

Summary: you and race finally confront the sudden kiss you laid on him the last time you saw him. Sequel to “Feelin’ brave today, aren’t ya?” But can be read on its own <3

Pairing: reader x racetrack higgins

Word count: 965

Warnings: none, fluff, maybe some typos you know me

Requested by/written for @ariaroseloklover <3

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“Gonna see the Manhattan boys?” Spot asked, grabbing your wrist as he passed by you, attempting to drag you with him.

“I’m not coming.” You shook your wrist free. His eyebrows shot up, incredulous. “Are you serious? It wasn’t an invitation, let’s go. Papes been sold for the day.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Is this about Race? Because you can’t stop seeing your friends all together just to avoid seeing him.”

“Spot, I can’t.”

“You can,” He mocked your tone, “to be honest, you kinda owe him an explanation. You can’t just go from yelling at someone to kissing them to pretending they don’t exist. Wouldn’t be right, especially since it looked like you both really, really enjo—“

“Okay, okay! I hear you. Jesus,” you interrupted, exasperation giving way to resignation.

Spot smirked slightly at how easily you’d given in, “Let’s go see Jacky’s gang, and you’re gonna face whatever the hell’s going on with you and Race.”

Reluctantly, you trudged along beside him and headed towards Manhattan, your cheeks flushing slightly every time you thought about the reaction you were bound to get after being MIA since, well, you know. As you and Spot arrived, the attention swiftly turned to you. Jack, with a grin, stood up to greet you both, a few of the boys trailing behind him. “Ah, there he is!” Jack declared enthusiastically, his eyes falling on you. “And, wait, who are you?” He teased, acknowledging your prolonged absence.

“Funny, Jack.” You responded with a wry smile.

Settling down with Spot and the other boys, you tried to regain your sense of comfort in the midst of familiar faces. Your eyes couldn’t help but steal glances in Race’s direction, their curious paths wandering over to him before darting away hastily.

After a while, you watched Race rising from his spot and make his way towards the lodge. Spot nudged you with a knowing look. “Go after him.”

A queasy feeling churned in your stomach, and you let out a reluctant groan. You knew that Spot wasn’t giving you with a choice.

“Race.” You spoke his name as you followed him inside. He paused, turning around at the bottom of the staircase. You stared at him for a moment, he stared at you, both of you expecting the other to speak.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him. “We should talk.”

There was a mix of surprise and uncertainty in his eyes. “Talk about what?”

You chose your words carefully. “About what happened…the other day.”

He frowned, his gaze intensifying. “What, you mean when you kissed me?”

You nodded, your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, that.”

Race didn’t say anything for a moment, and you could feel his guardedness. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “Look, I don't know what that was about, and I sure as hell don't know what you want to talk about now."

How? How is it even possible for this conversation to become an argument? Only you and Race could accomplish such a feat.

You took a deep breath, resisting the urge to yell at him, trying to gather your thoughts. “We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. I— I need to know what you’re feeling.”

He looked away, his jaw tense. “What’s there to feel? You kissed me during an argument. That’s it.”

You were growing impatient with his stubbornness. “It wasn’t just that. You kissed me back and you know it!”

Race’s eyes darted back to yours, and you saw a flicker of vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. “Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“Why?” you pressed, your voice softening.

He hesitated for a moment, his admission carrying a rare openness, “I don’t get it, Y/N. One minute we’re fighting like cats and dogs, and the next, you’re kissing me, and then you disappear. It’s like you’re playing with my head.”

Frustration mirrored in your eyes as you shook your head. “I’m not playing a game, Race. I didn’t plan to kiss you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “I don’t know what’s happening, I can’t stop thinking about that day. And it’s driving me nuts.”

He pulled his hat off of his head and ran a set of fingers through his hair.

"Do you or do you not have feelings for me?" you questioned, your voice escalating, tears of frustration brimming in your eyes.

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up in frustration, “I don’t— I’d—“

“Yes or no, Race?” Your voice grew more insistent, him only becoming more flustered with the way you were putting him on the spot.

“God, yes!” He admitted, his hands moving to cup your cheeks as he leaned in to kiss you, passionately. Your hands instinctively found his chest, drawing him closer into the fervent embrace of the kiss.

Breaking away, he looked into your eyes, his voice sincere, “Is that what you want from me?”

Your gaze locked with his, your emotions laid bare, “Why do we fight the way we do?”

Race's fingers slowly slid from your cheeks to your shoulders as he continued to search your eyes for something, anything that could make sense of the what was going on between you two. He shook his head, his expression a mix of bewilderment and frustration.

“I don't know, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice softer and more introspective than it had ever been. “I don’t know how to handle being around you.”

A small, rueful chuckle escaped your lips. “I get that, too. Maybe we start by talking, like really talking, without the screaming and the insults.”

Race's fingers found yours, his touch surprisingly gentle. He squeezed your hand gently, giving a gentle nod, “We can do that.”

[ao3feed-newsies]

(I Know) We'll Be Fine

by, Nyx_thedragon by Nyx_thedragon Jack drops Morris’s hat at some point, and continues running, bringing himself through newsies square, right past the Horace Greeley statue. He can’t hear the Delanceys behind him anymore, and turns to check how far behind they are. He can’t see them past the crowd of newsboys watching him. As he’s turning back around to look where he’s going, Jack slams into someone -- a boy, looking to be around his age, maybe a year younger. The boy is wearing a blue striped button-up shirt under a brown vest, brown pants, and a matching brown newsboy cap. His hair sticks out from underneath just enough that Jack can see that it’s curly, and his eyes, when Jack finally looks at them, are strikingly blue. The boy Jack’d run into stares at him, rightfully annoyed. “What do you think you’re doing?” There’s some shouting of Jack’s name behind the boy, and when Jack looks, he sees the Delanceys trying to push through the crowd of newsies, who’re trying to keep them back. He looks back at the boy, and smiles easily. “Runnin’!” ~~~~~~~~~~ My attempt at a 1992 Newsies rewrite. The main plot is the same. (Title from the song "We'll Be Fine" by Jorge Rivera-Herrans) Words: 4520, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Newsies (1992) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M, Multi Characters: David Jacobs, Jack Kelly (Newsies), Sarah Jacobs (Newsies), Les Jacobs, Spot Conlon, Racetrack Higgins, Bryan Denton, The Newsies (Newsies) Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, David Jacobs & Jack Kelly, Jack Kelly & The Newsies, David Jacobs & The Newsies, Crutchie & Jack Kelly (Newsies), Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, David Jacobs & Mush Meyers, Spot Conlon & Jack Kelly Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, mostly - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Background Relationships, Minor Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Minor Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, they're not the focus but they're implied, Rated T for swearing, Jewish Jacobs Family (Newsies), it's mentioned once and doesn't affect the plot but it's important to me that you know, references to the Hard Promises script, just one detail tbh, Based on Newsies (1992), Rewrite, Canon Rewrite, no beta we die like snyder should have read : https://ift.tt/coz1gZb - December 19, 2024 at 10:21PM

[bow-of-aros]

Day Thirteen: Win

Summary: Race has been feeling antsy lately, and he's presented with the perfect opportunity to defeat the notoriously un-shockable Jack Kelly.

-

Hey folks! The relationship these two have is so important to me I love them so muchhhhh. Race just misses his older brother and is physically incapable of NOT starting shit. The second part to this fic will be up tomorrow, hope y'all enjoy <33

-

Race will be the first one to admit that life had been pretty good after the strike ended. Thanks to Jack’s new deal with Pulitzer, Race had been able to pick up a couple of extra papes on good selling days. He’s been able to eat three square meals a day and even have a bit of savings left over.

Jeez, a few days ago people had been buyin’ up papes faster than he could get them out of his bag! Race had stopped by the pastry place on his way back to the lodge and picked up a couple of cookies to split with the other newsies.

The look of joy on the littles faces had had him flying so high that he still hadn’t quite come back down.

Look, the point was, everything’s been great. Better than great, he’s been living the dream!

So why does he feel so restless?

Sure, Race has a bit of a reputation among the newsies as a troublemaker, but that’s his role! He drags people into his shenanigans when it looks like they need a bit of a pick-me-up. Sometimes people need a reminder that they can still be kids, even if they’re stuck fending for themselves on the street.

Usually Jack would catch his eye on these days with a grateful smile and a mouthed Thank you.

They were brothers, and Race acted as a sort of unofficial third-in-command, if that was a real thing.

It’s just that he hasn’t been around as often, and Race is starting to feel it. He’s off at work during the day and sometimes he’ll come back to help with the evening paper, but sometimes he’s out doing stuff with Katherine.

Look, Jack’s a great leader! He can rally a crowd and wrangle the newsies like nobody else, and having Crutchie as his second-in-command helps when they need a more level-headed and empathetic outlook on things.

But Crutchie’s well… He’s Crutchie. He can’t chase down the littles when they get a little too rowdy.

So that responsibility has fallen to Race.

He hasn’t had to do it too often since everyone wants to be on their best behaviour for Crutchie, but he can’t help but feel the itch to cause a bit of trouble and have some fun.

And if that happens to remind Jack that Race still actually exists, all’s the better.

Today was a good selling day and Race had sold all his papes in near-record time. Jack had promised that he’d spend time at the lodge that night, which meant that Race had a rare chance to mess with him.

He considered sneaking up to the penthouse, maybe stealing a couple of Jack’s art supplies and hiding them around the lodging house, but he didn’t want to accidentally break something and have Jack get genuinely upset with him.

No, it had to be something short and snappy. Something that would ignite that playful spark in Jack for the rest of the night.

The answer was almost too obvious.

The fellas had a sort of competition going: Jack was notoriously hard to startle, and each one of them was determined to be the one to actually scare him. They would hide behind doorways, jump out of alleys, even slide down fire escapes in an attempt to catch him off guard.

Each time, Jack either greeted the effort with a laugh or a raised eyebrow, loudly taking pride in the fact that none of the newsies could scare him.

This was their game, and Race was going to win.

The lodging house was still empty, the rest of the guys would be selling the last of their papes and Jack always managed to show up just before them, which meant he was probably on his way. He had to act now.

Race practically skipped over to the center of the room before lying down on the floor, sprawling his limbs out to make it look like he’d fallen. Then, he closed his eyes for good measure and waited.

Not even a minute later, the door swung open and familiar whistling came to an abrupt halt.

“Race?”

Showtime.

Footsteps rushed to his side and Race heard the sound of Jack dropping down to his knees. He made sure to keep his breathing slow and steady, and didn’t want to give up the game too soon.

“Racer? C’mon kid, this isn’t funny, wake up!”

Jack sounded genuinely concerned, and maybe Race felt a little bad, but it would all be worth it in a few short moments.

“Racetrack Higgins I swear to fucking God,” Jack reached down and gave his shoulder a little shake, and that was his cue.

Race’s eyes flew open, hands reaching up to clutch at Jack’s as he let out his best bloodcurdling scream.

And oh, the fruits of his labour were glorious.

Jack screeched, launching himself backward and falling flat on his ass. While Race contented himself with cackling at his success, Jack was breathing hard and clutching at his chest.

“Ha!” Race crowed, scrambling to his feet to loom over Jack, “I win!”

“Win? Yeah, win at giving me a damn heart attack! Jeez Racer I thought youse was dead!” Jack didn’t even bother getting up, still clutching at his chest in a way that even Race was starting to consider over dramatic.

Ah, what’s the harm in kicking a man while he’s down?

Race leaned down, dancing his fingers across Jack’s sides until he was clutching his torso for an entirely different reason. “Admit it, Jack! Admit that I won!”

He was too caught up in his own goading and the fact that the great Jack Kelly was giggling under his fingers to notice the leg flying at him until he was already tumbling to the ground.

“Oho yeah? Yohou think you’ve won?” Jack’s grin was nothing short of downright evil, somehow managing to still sound threatening even through the lingering giggles.

“You’ve started a battle you can’t finish, Racer. Let’s see you win this!”

And Jack lunged. And Race bolted.

[clevereverest]

“Hide and Seek” - Oneshot (Drabble)

[ I achieved a cool goal with this fic’s word count — check out the screenshot here! ]

Summary and tags below!

“Flora” - Oneshot

[ And I proceeded to post a second fic today because Hide and Seek is super short lol. ]

Summary and tags below!

[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."