#reader x race higgins

[youaintnothinbuta]

racetrack x reader where the reader is jack’s or crutchie’s sister (bio or adopted, whatever you want) and they’re disgusted by seeing race and the reader? love ur work! ❤️

We ain’t doing nothing wrong - racetrack higgins x reader

Summary: see request

Pairing: racetrack higgins x fem!reader

Word count: 300

Warnings: fluff. One line insinuating a sexual relationship. Probably typos you know meee <3

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You were sat in Race’s lap, with the all the rest of the boys hanging around in the alley, everyone bantering as usual. You squealed as Race peppered your cheek and neck with kisses.

“Ain’t you two embarrassed?” Jack groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. “This is a public space, you know.”

Race looked unapologetic as he continued to lavish you with affection. “What of?” He asked.

Jack wrinkled his nose, unable to contain his disapproval. “You guys don't have to make out every time you're within ten feet of each other.”

Your smile faltered as you turned to your brother. “Jack, you know we're just playing. Stop being such an asshole.”

Race couldn't help but chuckle. “Yeah, Jack, you gotta lighten up.”

Jack sighed, clearly irritated. “Well, it's just not proper, that's all.”

Race rolled his eyes, exchanging a look with you. “Not proper? We're Newsies, Jack. We ain't exactly nobility.”

Before Jack could retort, you spoke up, your voice stern. “Jack, you're my brother, and I love you, but you gotta get over this. We ain’t doing nothing wrong.”

Jack's expression softened as he met your gaze. He loved you, and was just worried about you, and honestly, didn’t like the idea of you growing up and being an adult. And also was slightly disgusted at the idea that one of his best mates and you were doing god knows what behind closed doors.

Jack sighed once more, but this time it was one of resignation. “Alright, alright. I'll try to be less 'ew' about it.”

You smiled, “thank you, Jacky.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He replied.

Race leant into you, resting his chin on your shoulder as the conversations between everyone else picked up again.

[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

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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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[heliads]

All in the Words

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

me when i flirt with someone and they instantly perish

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “Only if you flirt back.”

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

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

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

[sl-newsie]

Teach Me To Love Hate You (Race x Fem Jet OC, enemies to lovers)

Here I am to request again! (*insert evil laugh*) So Race is doing so bad in school that he has to get a tutor. The problem is he gets stuck with this posh Jet girl and they absolutely hate each other. Tutoring is a mess. But one night when Race goes out to play cards against the Jets he’s playing against her, but she’s all dressed up! Turns out she’s a card shark, and wins by flirting with her opponent to get in their head. Her strategy works, and by the end of the night they're practically dating.

Davey’s POV

“Another F, Mr. Higgins.”

Our math teacher, Mr. Johnson, hands the man sitting in front of me his test. No surprise that Race failed considering he spends all his time goofing off. I’ll admit since I’ve met Jack and his gang I myself have relaxed a bit but not too much to have my perfect grades drop.

“Very impressive, Mr. Jacobs.”

I’m handed my own test, which I passed with flying colors. The bell rings and signals for us to head home.

“Go ahead, Davey,” Race groans. “Rub your perfect score in my face. I hate school!”

I gather my things and sling my bag over my shoulder. “I know book smarts aren’t your thing. Um, have you maybe considered being tutored?”

Race huffs and pulls out his cigar to stick in his mouth. “No way! I’ll keep my own perfect score of failing before I team up with one-a those bookworms-”

“Well that’s too bad, Mr. Higgins.” Mr Johnson approaches us. “Your failing grades have led the school to force me to assign you a tutor. You are to stay after school every weekday until 5. You will continue this until your grades improve.” The teacher gestures to the door. “Your tutor is waiting for you in room 215.”

I can’t believe it. Neither can Race.

“Are you serious? God, outta all things…”

The flustered student gets up and struts out of the room, causing me to rush after him.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad? It’s only-”

“Dave, of course it’s gonna be bad! I’ll barely miss the card tournaments at 6!” We reach the end of the hall where room 215 is. “I’m gonna be locked up with some ugly stiff trying to teach the unteachable-!”

“You must be Anthony Higgins,” a woman’s voice speaks as the classroom door opens.

Race rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s- Holy Jesus!”

Amanda’s POV

This is what I get? This is what I get for keeping good grades? Being forced to tutor someone? Mrs. Smith informed me this morning that I’ve been assigned to tutor someone all because I’m one of the top students. I don’t even go to Manhattan High! I’m only here for the math class! Sadly West Side High doesn’t have any higher up math classes, so I have to commute to ‘Hattan. 

I take a deep breath as I wait in the empty classroom. Just get through it one day at a time. The sooner you help him improve the sooner this headache will be over. The sound of approaching chatter alerts me to the door. Putting on a perky face, I walk over and open it. Outside I recognize Davey from math club, and the other must be the student I’m supposed to meet.

“You must be Anthony Higgins.” 

The man in question rolls his eyes and turns to me. “Yeah, that’s- Holy Jesus!” His jaw drops and I swear he’s having a stroke.

Davey waves a hand in front of him. “Um, Race? You ok?”

The blonde boy nods slowly, still gaping at me. I feel my patience slipping. Ugh. I am not staying after school to be ogled!

I grip the man’s shirt and drag him inside. “Thanks for dropping him off, David. I’ve got my work cut out. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Amanda!” The kind Jacobs man waves and shuts the door.

Race is still quiet. I steer him to a chair and push him down to sit. “Listen up, Higgins. We both don’t wanna be here. So let me make this perfectly clear: pay attention and smarten up!”

Higgins shakes himself awake and gets a lopsided grin. “Well hello, doll. Y’know friends call me Race-”

“I’m not your friend. I’m your tutor.”

My firm tone turns Race’s grin to a scowl. “Don’t remind me. I don’t think I’ve met you. I’dve remembered your lovely attitude.”

I stiffly take out some worksheets and slap them on the desk. “You’ve got some nerve, Higgins. I’m from West Side High.”

He snickers. “Ah, one-a Lorton’s gals. That’s where the attitude comes from!”

I roll my eyes. “Riff’s just a good friend. That also means that you shouldn’t try anything, understand? Just do these worksheets and we can be done for today. My whole life doesn’t revolve around school, and unlike you I actually have plans that don’t involve goofing off.”

“Well,” Race says cockily. “Since neither of us wanna suffer through this, whaddya say you lets me go early?”

That little-! That’s it. No more playing nice. I stiffly walk over to the door and lock it. It’s against school policy but I don’t care at this point. This cheeky moron is not gonna pin me for some softie!

“Hey! Why’d you-?”

I steer Race back into his seat with a firm hold. “Worksheets. Now! Before I really give you something to stress over!”

He’s shaken but still tries to keep confident. “Like what? The heartthrob you’s give’n me?”

“Like a black eye, dumbass! Now get to work!”

Race’s POV

God must have a sense-a humor ‘cause that tutor session felt like it took fifty years! It don’t help that my tutor is a stuck-up goody-goody. Jeez, for a moment I thought she was cute. I didn’t even get her name.

“Ey, Racer. Ya with us?” Jack asks.

“Um- Yeah. Just think’n,” I mudda as we enter the Jets’ hideout. 

“You? Thinking?” Albert laughs. “Never thought I’d see the day! What’s got you so worked up?”

“He has to be tutored now,” Davey explains from behind.

I roll my eyes. “Gee, thanks Davey! Why not announce my failure to the whole woild, why dontcha?”

“Don’t feel too bad, Race,” Crutchy tries to comfort me. “It took me a while to understand math too.”

“What I don’t get is how are ya so bad at math when ya count cards like a madman?” Spot grunts. “You’s bedda not get us kicked out.”

This week’s card tournament is be’n held in the West Side. I ain’t too noivous ‘cause Riff’s always too busy boast’n ‘bout his new construction job to play the game. That and Baby John’s poker face ain’t worth dirt. I can see through him like glass. So far the turn up looks pretty bland. Maybe folks is get’n tired-a losing? Where’s the competition?

“Evening gents,” Riff greets us as we gather ‘round the table. “We’s just wait’n on a few more players, then we’ll start.”

“Is Bernardo coming?” Davey asks.

The Jet leader smirks. “Wouldn't you wanna know, Mouth? Expecting Liliana to show?”

David blushes and looks away. Sure, he gets a pretty goil tonight. Of all people I expected Davey Jacobs to be the last guy to find a date.

“What about Mouthpiece?” I ask. “Can’t a guy see his own brodda?”

Riff shakes his head. “Bernardo called to say he can’t make it either. Only Baby John and Amanda are left to show.”

“Besides, one Higgins is enough to handle,” Jack groans. “We don’t need the matching pair.”

I’d hoid of Baby John before but the odda name ain’t familiar. With my luck it’ll be some ditzy dame who don’t know a spade from a shovel-

“Well well, hello again, mister Higgins.”

Amanda’s POV

“Are you kidding me?” I gape as I peer through the window. 

“What’s wrong?” Baby John asks from behind.

“Race is here, that’s what! That ding-dong plays cards here?”

“Actually he ain’t no ding-dong,” Baby John points out. “Race is one-a the best players in New York.”

I snort. “If he’s so smart, why do I gotta be forced to teach him basic algebra?” Perhaps that’s a question no one can answer. “Don’t matter. He’ll bend either way.”

“Gonna lay on the shark charm?” John questions with an arched brow.

“Ya bet.” I don’t always play by the rules. My secret is that after school I play tournaments as a card shark by flirting with players. Some frown at it but I’m proud of my acting skills. Plus any little money I can make goes towards helping my parents.

Baby John goes ahead and sits next to Riff at the table while I stand behind Race. 

“Well well, hello again, mister Higgins.”

The man’s head jerks up and he spins around to look at me with surprised eyes. It’s as if he can’t decide that I’m real. He looks between me and Riff with a stunned expression.

“Amanda, I see you know Race,” the Jet assumes.

My lips press into a firm line. “Yeah. Through tutoring. Now since we’s not at school can we actually have fun and play some cards?”

The oddas just shrug and begin to assemble the deck, while Race looks at me like he just won the lottery.

“Amanda, is it? Golly, I’ve never pinned you for a card gal!”

“There’s many things you’d be surprised by,” I say in a sultry voice. My suave charm automatically draws Race in and I see him starting to lose his senses. 

“Th- That’s some getup you’ve got on, sweetheart,” he mumbles.

His compliment is refreshing. Usually guys just eat my appearance right up with no thought-a be’n nice. Tonight’s outfit is a polka dot cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline paired with simple red heels. I may be a card shark but I still got my dignity.

“Thank you,” I say whole-heartedly, but then regain my attitude. “I was starting to think ya couldn’t use that mouth for anything odda than back-sassing. Ready to lose?”

Race stares for a second then turns back to start gathering his delt hand. I decide to sit next to him for a better shot of distracting him. If I can get the oh-so-great Racetrack Higgins to falter at cards then I’ll have really set a record. Tonight’s game is Hearts and fortunately my hand is halfway decent. Lotta high cards plus the queen-a spades. Just enough to turn the tables and give everyone 26 points.

“You’ve been taking a lotta hearts,” Race says after a while, then says in a lower tone: “Wanna bet that you’d steal mine as well?”

Ha! He’s trying to play a card shark at her own game! This is too funny.

I pull on my best flirting smile and bat my eyelashes. “You tell me, handsome.”

That did it. Race’s face goes beet red and he goes back to staring at his cards. A few more hands go by and I continue to keep the lead. Luckily the oddas are too consumed by conversation to notice, all except Race. But for good measure to keep him distracted I slide my leg over to brush against his. This gets him shaking and all but hot and bothered. It’s working, but then why does a part-a me feel guilty? It ain’t a question that Race is a jerk sometimes but he’s still kinda handsome- No. I have a job to do. There's no holding back.

“Last hand. Who’s got the queen?” Davey asks as we all turn in our final card.

My smirk outshines all their oblivious faces. “I do!”

Jack chuckles. “You lose, Amanda.”

“Actually…” I fan out all the hearts I’ve collected. “I win!”

Everyone takes a double-take and groans. Another victory!

“Alright, you know the rules,” Riff grunts. “Pay up.”

The guys grudgingly take out their contribution and toss it onto the table. Maybe now I can afford to buy mom some good kitchen knives.

“Good job, Amanda.” Leave it to Crutchy to be the pro at sportsmanship. “You’re almost better than Race!”

“He’s right,” Spot agrees. “Hear that, Higgins? Ya got competition!”

The man in question has a stern look on his face. Instead-a answering he abruptly gets up and sulks down the hall to the bathroom. Sore loser. Can’t he take one defeat without holding a grudge? 

“We’s gonna head back,” Jack calls. “Send Race over once he’s done.”

The ‘Hattan fellas make their way out, leaving me with Spot ‘nd the Jets. Soon enough they too walk out and leave me alone to count up my winnings. After a few moments I hear footsteps and turn to see Race fuming with what looks like anger.

“You got spunk, sweetheart,” he remarks slyly. “Not many dames can get into my head the way you do.” All of a sudden he struts forward and leans me back to lay against the table. “Almost makes me wanna soak ya for that, but then that’d be wasting that pretty face-a yours.”

How is he so strong? Also why are his eyes suddenly quite catching-? Ugh! Get a grip, Amanda! Just take the money and go.

“You’re lucky Riff ain’t here right now,” I growl. “Oddawise you’d be talking through a mouth with no teeth for saying that.”

Race scoffs. “You batted your eyes at me, sweetheart. What’s your angle?”

“It’s part of the game! Jeez Higgins, you’re so used to card tournaments I thought you’d already know what a card shark is!”

“So instead of being one-a Bernardo’s sharks, you’re an actual shark?” Race dramatically clutches his chest. “That hurts. That hurts deep, sweetheart.”

I hiss in frustration. “Stop calling me that!”

“Why? ‘Cause every odda bum ya flirt with calls you that? Just how many guys have ya swindled to give you cash?”

In a fleeting moment of anger I slap Race across the face. “I ain’t your usual lady of the night, Higgins! For your information, every cent I earn through card games goes to my folks! Unlike you I use my skills to help people instead of boasting ‘bout it like a spoiled brat!”

Race blanks for a second but is still angry. “Boasting? I ain’t the one boasting, sweetheart. I’ll admit my skills is good but it’s Jack ‘nd the oddas that boast ‘bout it!”

“Then why do you suck at math?” I jab. 

“Maybe it’s the same reason why a clean-cut goil like you is a card shark,” Race replies. “I gots bedda things to do.”

“That don’t mean ya should throw your education in the trash!” I argue.

“I ain’t as smart as you, sweetheart. I know when to admit I’m no good.” 

Race suddenly gets a saddened look and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel bad. It ain’t his fault he’s not book smart but that don’t mean he’s useless.

“You still don’t get it, Higgins. Life’s more than just academics. But you still gotta put up with the tough stuff.” I loosen up a little and put a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re willing to cooperate, I could still tutor ya.”

Race laughs. “Ha! That’s a good one, sweetheart. Going soft on me?”

That son of a-! “Alright, fine! Go and fail math for all I care!” I lean forward and shove him against the wall. “To think I actually felt sorry for you, you snarky, hot, cocky-!”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Race’s face lights up. “Lay that on me again?”

“I was an idiot to think you’re a decent human being-! Ah!”

The blue-eyed man tilts over and plants a kiss on my lips. In my shocked state I don’t know whether to pound him or kiss him back. The gesture melts away my anger in pure ecstasy. God, what’s this guy doing to me?!

“You think I’m hot, sweetheart?” Race gets a cheeky smile. “Can’t say I ain’t flattered. You’s a scrumptious catch too.”

My face twitches as I try to form a rebuttal. “I- I… I-!”

“Well, whaddya know! I got the card shark speechless!” Race softly places his own hand on my shoulder. “I say we’d make a great pair, hm? Before we kill each odda, whaddya say to a milkshake at Doc’s?”

He’s got me hook, line, and sinker. As a card shark I’m not supposed to fall for anyone I play- where did I go wrong? Race is a pain! Yet still kinda cute… Ugh! Why does luv gotta be so complicated?!

“I- I ain’t good with luv, Race,” I mutter. “The only hearts I’ve been dealt with are cards. I ain’t a normal date.”

No matter how hard I wanna look away, Race’s eyes still capture me in a helpless trance. I’ve been disassembled from a cunning card shark into a pathetic mess. All I can do is stare as the man runs a hand softly across my cheek and looks down at me with kind eyes; a completely opposite demeanor than 10 minutes ago.

“I don’t want a normal date, Amanda. A normal date picks at my habits and says I gots a gambling problem.” Race bumps his nose on mine. “You wouldn’t say that, wouldya?”

My breath hitches. “No, you- you’re amazing at cards. Anybody who says oddawise is a joker.”

Now Race’s face is mere inches from mine. “Still up for a date?”

A sassy grin spreads on my lips. “Think ya can handle me, Higgins? I am still your tutor, after all.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just lemme kiss you, ya mouthy tutor.”

And I do. Over and over and over, Race kisses up and down. All talk-a math and school drips away and I give in to this new-found feeling. 

“Never thought I’d fall for a bookworm,” Race mumbles between kisses.

I lightly smack his shoulder. “Remember this ‘bookworm’ just schooled you in Hearts, Higgins. You lost, remember?”

Race chuckles. “Yeah. Lost my own heart to you too, sweetheart.”

Tonight really was a successful game after all.

[chaotic-starlight24]

It'd be a little slice of life thing, no main plot really, maybe, we'll see

Edit: Sorry, meant delancey

[lovingmusicalmen]

Awwwww your Race blurb is so cute! Could you do one for Race with the "Do you want me to carry you?" prompt?

I'm gonna be honest... Race is the current loml I actually fucking love writing for him

Still accepting blurb requests!

Fluff 17 - "Do you want me to carry you?"

Race's eyebrows lifted a little at the loud groan Y/N let out as she fell into the seat beside his at Jacobi's. The girl dropped her forehead onto the table, complete with another long-suffering sigh.

Race looked over to the other Newsies who were sat around them, all of them with expressions of equal amusement painted across their features. Race met Blink's eyes and gestured at his girlfriend with a questioning look, only to be met with a shrug from Y/N's selling partner.

"You alright, Doll?"

"No," she huffed dramatically. She rolled her head over so that she was facing him and Race's heart stuttered in his chest upon seeing her little pout.

Even after months of dating, she still had that effect on him. How or why, Race didn't know. But he wasn't going to complain.

He reached out and removed Y/N's hat from her head, and gently took out some of the pins she had been using to keep her hair from her face. Y/N let out a contented sigh when Race's fingers began to brush through the strands.

"Rough selling day?" He asked, lowering his voice slightly. He had a feeling it was just general exhaustion that had his girlfriend feeling low, which all of the Newsies would understand and sympathise with. But on the off chance it was something slightly more serious, Race didn't want to share her private business with their crowd of friends.

"My shoes are breaking," Y/N lamented, sighing again. Race couldn't help but smile a little and Y/N scowled up at him, though Race saw the gleam of amusement in her eyes. "Don't laugh at me!" She whined.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Race said, feeling anything but. "I thought you'd been saving for a new pair of boots anyway?"

"Well, yeah" Y/N admitted grudgingly. "I just didn't want to actually have to buy them, you know? Figured if I asked the nuns to pray for my shoes, they'd just... last forever."

"Immortal boots?"

"Immortal boots," Y/N confirmed sagely, at last cracking a smile.

"Want me to come with you to get some new ones tomorrow after circulation?" Race offered. Y/N's expression softened and she at last moved off of the table to curl into Race's side instead.

"Stop thinking so laterally - I just want to complain about my shitty, breaking boots," Y/N huffed, though there was no malice behind the words, judging by the soft kiss she pressed to the column of his neck.

Race wound his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, chuckling.

"I'm sorry for your loss, doll - I'm sure Al would be up for hosting a funeral for them, if you want? Toss them off the Brooklyn Bridge? You can make a speech about how much they meant to you?"

Y/N snorted a laugh, moving away just enough so that she could tilt his face gently down and press a kiss to his lips.

"Spot'll be thrilled we invaded his turf for my stinky boots."

"Nah - think he'll be as thrilled as any of us to see them go. I can smell your shoes all the way in Sheepshead."

Race was rewarded for his joke with a sharp elbow in the side and an outraged cry from his girlfriend as she pulled away glare playfully at him.

"I hate you, Racetrack," Y/N huffed, emphasising the second part of his nickname in the way she only ever did to tease him. Race shot her a cheeky grin, tugging her back towards her to give her another kiss.

"Come on - I'm tired, let's go take a nap."

"That sounds so good right now," Y/N agreed, all pretence of being upset with him being given up as she melted back into his embrace. Race dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"And to spare your dying boots any further disrespect, you want me to carry you back to the lodging house?" He offered.

Though, he didn't wait for her response as he just scooped her up into his arms. Y/N let out a shriek, garnering the attention and amusement of their friends again as she wound her arms around Race's neck. The laughs of the Newsie's erupted through the diner and Y/N rolled her eyes, seeming unable to muster up her usual teasing glare as she instead beamed at her boyfriend.

"You're so annoying."

Race shot her a cheesy grin.

"You love me."

[sluggmuffin]

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 - maybe a little finch x reader or race x reader with when the other holds onto their waist briefly as they're passing by and it just send chills down their spine or one leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze.

yoooo happy birthday btw from your newsie requester ❤️❤️

Horses Ain't the Only Things Racing ~ Race Higgins

Summary: It's been a long day for the both of you, but a simple gesture can fix that

Contains: fluff, x gn!reader

A/N: lmao it's late and this is so bad I'm sorry

"one leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze."

~~~

It was already 7pm. The sun was setting and you still have around half of your papers left, and there was hardly anyone at the racetracks.

You plop down on a bench, placing your bag next to you and wiping the sweat off your forehead. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 , 11... 11 more papers.

You accepted defeat, putting your hat back on getting ready to leave as your selling partner, Race, sits next to you.

"Tough day too, huh?" He observes, motioning to your bag. "Only sold 13, still got 7 left."

"7 ain't bad, I still got 11." You reply, wishing you had sold more.

"Don't blame ya' self, headline was bad anyway." He says with a huff. "Which horse you think is gonna win?"

"Probably the Appaloosa, it ain't the fastest but it'll catch up, it's got good stamina from what I've noticed."

"The brown thoroughbred looks fast. I'd say it'll be close." You give a small hum, acknowledging that you're still listening, but close your eyes as you lay your head on his shoulder.

He tenses up, not sure what to do, and his breathing hitches, realizing his heart is racing, he rests his head on top of yours, bringing his arm around you.

"Tired?" He asks, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Very" you whisper.

"Alright well get some rest I'll wake you when it's time to go." He replies, drawing shapes on your arm. "And don't worry about the papers, 'm sure Jack 'll buy em off us to draw on."

'Man,' he thinks to himself, 'I guess horses ain't the only things racing.'

[toecheesitz]

ok — i’m looking for another fanfic.

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

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

Please and thank you <3

[v6quewrlds]

ALL MINE, TEE HIGGINS.

pairing⠀⁎⠀tee higgins x ex!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀7.4k.

summary⠀⁎⠀two years ago, you thought you had left tee higgins in the past. both ja'marr and tee's mother have been waiting to bring you back into the loop, by any means necessary.

author's note⠀⁎⠀i think i've written and rewritten this fic at least 4 times in the last two months. pls suspend your disbelief and imagine car sex isn't a semi-miserable experience. lost the original request for this but sorry it took me forever, here it is <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, smut, jealous!tee, mama tee & ja'marr meddling, forced proximity trope, car sex, fingering, male masturbation, oral sex (m. receiving), facial lol, feelings, etc.

You took your seat, balancing your nachos in one hand and your soda in another. You couldn't believe you had agreed to come to the game tonight. The stadium lights reflected off the field, creating a kaleidoscope of color against the night sky. The roar of the crowd washed over you like a wave of nostalgia, a stark contrast to the quiet solace of your usual Sunday nights at home. You had hoped the distance between you and the game would be enough to keep you from seeing Tee, but the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

When Ja'Marr had bribed you with free tickets and the promise of seeing your hard work on his shoulder in action from the VIP suite, you had felt a flutter of excitement. It was the kind of experience you had always dreamed of, a chance to see the game you loved from a perspective most fans could only envy. But the moment you walked in and saw Tee's mother, your heart had sunk. You knew that look in her eye, the one that said she'd been waiting for this moment for nearly two years.

You knew Tee and Ja'Marr were extremely close, but you hadn't anticipated their families sharing a suite for the season - an oversight on your part that had led you straight into the lion's den. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the awkwardness to come. Tee's mother, gave you a knowing smile - one that mirrored Tee's - and a wink that made your heart race.

"Is that who I think it is?" You heard Tee's mother wonder out loud as you approached the suite. Your heart skipped a beat. You had hoped you could fly under the radar, but you should have known better. Tee's mother was sharp, and she hadn't missed a beat when it came to her son's love life.

You had met Tee's mother twice before, both times ending in an unspoken promise that you would help her son get his life in check. Now, as the woman's gaze fell on you, you felt a strange mix of dread and comfort. She was the kind of person who didn't miss a beat, and she wasn't about to let you slip away without making her intentions known. She wanted you back with Tee, and she wasn't afraid to play Cupid.

"I'm so happy you made it," Tee's mother said, her voice warm and welcoming despite the tension in the air. "It's so good to see you, baby." The Southern warmth enveloped you. You forced a smile, your eyes glancing at the field where Tee was warming up with his team.

"It's nice to see you too," you managed to say, your voice tight. You knew that the woman's welcoming tone was a loaded one, filled with expectations and hopes for a reunion you weren't quite ready to entertain.

Tee's mother leaned in, whispering in your ear. "You look gorgeous, darling. Tee's so hard-headed, but I know he'll be happy to see you." You felt a warmth creep up your neck as you took a sip of your soda, hoping the cool liquid would calm the storm brewing inside you. You knew that you had to be as normal as you could muster, especially considering the circumstances of your breakup with Tee. But as you watched Tee on the field, your thoughts drifted to those passionate nights the two of you had shared, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was still something there.

The game kicked off, and you found yourself lost in the excitement of the plays, the cheers of the crowd, and the occasional glance at Tee, his muscles rippling as he sprinted across the field. Every time he caught a pass, celebrated with his teammates, or flashed that million-dollar smile, you felt a twinge of something you had been trying so hard to bury. You focused on Ja'Marr's performance, nodding with professional pride at each catch and cringing at each hit he took.

The game ended just as explosively as it had started, with the Bengals claiming victory. The suite erupted into a roar of cheers and laughter, and you found yourself being swept up in the excitement despite your apprehension about seeing Tee. As the families began to filter out of the suite and into the hallway leading to the players' exit, you tried to hide behind Ja'Marr's parents, hoping to go under the radar just until you could congratulate him. But fate had other plans.

As the players began to pour out of the locker room to greet their families, you were quickly spotted by various team members who had become familiar faces at your clinic. They greeted you with smiles and updates on their recoveries, making small talk that you returned with genuine enthusiasm.

Tee stepped out of the locker room, standing head and shoulders above the vast majority of the crowd. His eyes scanned the hallway, looking for his mother and Ja'Marr's family. The sight of your signature sleek jet-black hair tucked between the sea of heads stopped him in his tracks. The jean shorts and jersey you had worn teasingly hid your curves in a way that had his thoughts drifting to the nights the two of you had spent together. He felt the heat of his shock and desire mingling, unsure which would win out.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder as he stood frozen in his spot. Ja'Marr's laugh only seemed to push his irritation further as he watched you interact with his teammates, all smiles and gentle touches that made his blood boil. "You can thank me later," he said, a smug smirk playing across his lips as he stepped in front of Tee to greet his family. Tee's mother pulled Ja'Marr in for a quick hug, whispering, "It's about time you got her down here, good job," before releasing him and turning her attention to her brooding, silent son.

The tension in the air was palpable as you and Tee locked eyes over his mother's shoulder. He couldn't read the emotions playing out on your face, but he knew you were just as annoyed as he was. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before he made a scene. He didn't know what to say to you, didn't know how to act with you so close to him. The last thing he wanted was to ruin the victory night for everyone with your personal drama.

Ja'Marr reached you before Tee could say a word, pulling you into a warm hug and breaking your eye contact with Tee. "Thanks for everything," he said, sincerity in his voice. "Couldn't have done it without you." The other stray players nodded in agreement, sharing their appreciation for your work. Tee felt his jaw clench, the jealousy bubbling to the surface as he watched you laugh and joke with the men he shared a locker room with.

But as the crowd thinned and the congratulations grew quieter, you turned to leave, your eyes avoiding Tee's gaze. You didn't want to deal with this, not now, not here. Tee's mother, ever the opportunist, called out to you. "How are you getting home, sweetheart?" She feigned innocence.

Your eyes snapped to hers, a silent plea to convince her to ease the pressure. "I'm all good. I didn't want to deal with the parking headache so I ubered over. I'll just order one to get home," you replied, hoping to keep the conversation moving.

Tee's mother, however, had other plans.

"Why don't you let Tee take you home," Tee's mother said, her voice a blend of sweetness and command that left you with little room to argue. To make matters worse, Tee nodded, seeing an opening and taking it without question.

"Yeah, you still live at the same place?" Tee asked, his voice low and gruff. You nodded, unable to hide the irritation in your eyes. You didn't want to be here, didn't want to deal with this, but you had no escape. Tee's mother had set the stage, and now you had to play the part.

"Good," he said decisively, leaving you no room to argue. "I'll take you."

The walk to Tee's car was a silent battle of wills, with each step echoing the unspoken tension that had grown between the two of you. You felt a storm of emotions brewing, a tornado of anger and desire that you hadn't felt since the last time you were together. You were torn between pushing him away and throwing yourself into his arms, but you knew the latter was a dangerous path you couldn't afford to take.

As you approached the sleek black sports car, you could see his eyes scanning the parking lot, looking for any sign of recognition or potential interested eyes. It had always been like this with Tee, a constant dance of public and private personas. You knew the weight of being a public figure's girlfriend - or fuck buddy - all too well, and you weren't sure if you wanted to step back into that world again.

But as the two of you climbed into the car and the door shut behind them, the outside world faded away. The leather seats were perfectly pristine, and the scent of his cologne filled the space, a heady mix that was both comforting and infuriating. You sat in silence, jaws set and tense. You were the first to break it.

"Why'd you say that?" you spat out, your eyes on the floor mat as you fidgeted with the zipper of your purse. "Why would you put me in that situation in front of everyone?"

Tee's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his head shaking, already rejecting your frustration. "What situation? You looked like you was having the time of your life flirting with my teammates," he shot back, the edge in his voice betraying his own jealousy.

"Flirting? I was talking to my patients," you retorted, your voice rising slightly. "But that's always your go-to, isn't it? Accuse me of shit when you know damn well I'm just doing my job." You glanced up at him, your eyes flashing with anger.

Tee met your gaze in the mirror, his jaw tight. "And what about you wearing my boy's jersey?" He gestured towards you, the frustration in his voice palpable. "That's not sending a message?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Tee, it is just a jersey. And last time I checked, I can wear whatever the hell I want." The words hung in the air, charged with the electricity of your unresolved feelings.

"Yeah, but why his?" Tee countered, his voice thick with irritation. He started the engine and pulled out of the garage, the tires squealing slightly as he hit the gas. The darkness of the night outside the car mirrored the tumultuous emotions inside.

"It's not just about the jersey, Tee," you sighed, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and longing. "It's about respecting me as a person. You don't own me. I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

Tee clenched his teeth, feeling his blood pressure rise. "You're right, I don't own you," he said, his eyes never leaving the road ahead. "But you know damn well that ain't what this is about." His hand reached over and rested on your thigh, his thumb making slow, deliberate circles.

You felt a shiver run through your body despite the warmth of his touch. "Then what is it about?" you asked, your hand hesitating before pushing his hand away. You shifted in your seat, crossing your arms tightly.

Tee's hand hovered over your thigh for a moment before retreating. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's about... us. And how we always seem to end up in the same fucked up situation." He paused, glancing over at you before continuing. "It's about how every time I see you, I want to love on you so badly it hurts."

Your eyes searched his profile in the dim car light, the glow of passing streetlights casting shadows on his sharp features. "And what about when you don't see me?" you challenged, your voice laced with bitterness. "You still get to fuck on whoever you want, whenever you want. But the second I try to live my life, you act like I'm the one who's wrong."

Tee's eyes never left the road, groaning in response to your argument. "You think it's easy for me?" he bit back. "You think I don't miss you every fucking day? That I don't lay in bed at night thinking about you?" His voice grew softer, the anger momentarily subsiding. "But every time we talk, it's the same shit. You push me away, and I don't know how to fix it."

You stared at your hands in your lap, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. You had missed him too, but you weren't about to admit that. Not now. Not when you had worked so hard to move on. "You can't fix it if you don't know what's broken," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the hum of the car's engine.

Tee sighed. "Then tell me. Tell me what the fuck I did wrong, because I've been playing this shit on repeat in my head for two years, and I can't figure it out." His frustration was clear, but so was the desperation in his voice.

You turned to face him, your eyes searching his for a moment before you spoke. "You didn't do just one thing wrong, Tee. It's like you never knew how to just be with me without all the drama and the games. And when we tried to get serious, you just... you just didn't get it."

Tee's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Get what?" he asked, his voice tight.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh. "You didn't get that I needed more than just... this," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "I needed someone who could handle being with me without all the bullshit, without treating me like a fucking trophy to show off to your boys. I just wanted you to be able to chill the fuck out around me."

Tee remained silent, his eyes focused on the road as he digested your words. The silence grew heavier, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Finally, he spoke. "I know I fucked up. But you gotta know that when I'm around you, it's like... I just can't control myself. I can't think right."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach at his confession. "Well, maybe you should learn," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But you knew he had a point. Whenever the two of you were together, it was like your emotions had a mind of their own, a tornado that wreaked havoc on everything around you.

"I'm trying," Tee said, his voice gruff. "But it's hard when I see you with other guys, talking with my mom, wearing another man's jersey..." He trailed off, his voice thick with unspoken frustration and something else - something that made your heart race.

"I'm not with anyone, Tee," you said, your voice softer now. "I've been focusing on work, on myself."

Tee glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment too long before returning to the road. "For real?" His voice was tinged with skepticism.

"Yeah, for real," you snapped, feeling the heat of his stare. "Why can't you just believe me?"

Tee didn't respond, his eyes flicking back and forth between the road and your profile. The two of you drove in silence for a few minutes, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. The city lights flashed by, a blur of color that matched the chaos in your mind. You could feel his eyes on you and the corners of his lips pulling into a smug smile. It was infuriating, but you couldn't help but be drawn in by his magnetic energy.

"I can't stand you," you huffed, your eyes never leaving his profile.

Tee chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "You never mean that shit," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through you. He pulled into your parking garage, looking for a guest spot as he casually added, "When was the last time you got fucked right?"

Your eyes widened in shock, your breath hitching in your throat. "What the hell did you just say to me?" you hissed, your hand itching to reach for the door handle.

Tee's grin grew wider, his teeth flashing in the dim light of the garage. "You heard me," he drawled, pulling into an empty spot. "It's a damn shame you can't remember."

Your hand hovered over the door handle, torn between the desire to cuss him out and the heat that was spreading through you at the thought of your past encounters. "Why are you doing this?" you demanded, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and arousal you couldn't hide.

"Doing what?" Tee feigned innocence, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he turned to look at you. "Just trying to have a conversation, that's all. Remind you of what you've been missing." He stepped out of the car, the sound of the door slamming echoing through the garage.

You sat in the car, seething, trying to compose yourself. You didn't need this shit, not from him. But as you watched him walk around to your side, you knew you couldn't ignore him. You stepped out, your legs wobbly from the mix of emotions. He leaned against the car, arms folded over his broad chest, watching you with a smug look that made you want to scream.

Your eyes squinted, "Tee," you warned, "Don't start with me."

"I'm not starting anything," he said, his voice smoother than you remembered. "You remember that weekend you missed your flight?" Your cheeks grew warm, the memory rushing back. "You were so busy screaming my name, you ain't even notice the time."

Your nostrils flared, but you couldn't argue with that. It had been one of those weekends - passionate and all-consuming. But that was the problem with Tee. He had a way of making everything feel ten times more intense than it should have been, and you had been swept away by it every single time.

"Don't flatter yourself," you said, trying to sound unaffected. "It was just good dick."

Tee's grin never wavered. "Is that all it was to you?" He stepped closer, closing the space between you, your back pressed against the car. "Just good dick?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, his proximity making your head throb. You could feel his warmth, smell his cologne, and it was doing things to you that you didn't want to admit.

"Tee, don't do this to me," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. But it was too late. The dam had broken and you could feel the passion and frustration boiling over.

"You know it wasn't just that," Tee said, his voice dropping to a whisper. His hand reached up, cupping your cheek delicately, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. "It was never just about the sex. Like the week before we broke up, you remember that, don't you?"

Your eyes narrowed, trying to fight the memories that flooded back. That week had been intense, a whirlwind of success after the Bengals won the AFC North Championship, and the private moments you had shared in the aftermath had been more than just physical. "You can't just throw that in my face," you murmured, your voice strained.

Tee stepped closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "But it's the truth, ain't it?" he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "You can't tell me you don't miss that connection."

Your eyes fluttered closed, the memories of your passionate encounters overwhelming you. "Fuck," you breathed, your voice trembling. "Sprayed me with champagne, didn't you?"

Tee's smile grew as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "And then I ate that pussy good, just how you like," he whispered, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Your breath hitched, and you couldn't stop the images that flashed through your mind. That night had been explosive, a celebration of victory and passion.

Your body responded despite your resistance, and you felt yourself leaning into him, your hand reaching up to push against his chest. But instead of pushing him away, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. You whimpered softly, your resolve wavering.

Tee took this as an invitation, his hand moving to the nape of your neck and pulling you in for a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, and you could taste the victory of the game on him, the sweetness of his triumph mixing with the bitterness of your past. You kissed him back with a ferocity that surprised even yourself, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions - anger, desire, and a hint of nostalgia. You didn't want to be here, didn't want to feel this way again, but you were powerless against the gravitational pull of your history. As you broke apart for a moment to catch your breath, Tee's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of surrender.

"Fuck you," you whispered, your eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and need. But even as you said the words, your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, your breasts brushing against his chest.

Tee chuckled against your lips, his hand sliding down to your ass, and squeezing gently. "I'm trying," he murmured, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

The garage lights were dim, casting shadows over your bodies as you kissed, a silent symphony of passion and anger playing out between the two of you. You felt his other hand move to your waist, pulling you closer. You wanted to push him away, to scream and yell and tell him to leave you alone, but you couldn't. Your body was responding to his touch in a way you hadn't allowed it to in almost two years, and you were powerless to stop it.

With a low growl, Tee whispered, "You want this?" Your eyes searched his, a war of emotions playing out in their depths. Finally, you nodded, and Tee didn't need any more encouragement. He yanked you closer, his mouth devouring yours, his hands roaming over your body, relearning every curve and angle.

"Upstairs?" Tee murmured against your neck, his voice thick with lust.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of desire that clouded your thoughts. "Can't wait that long, backseat's fine," you murmured. The words slipped out before you could think better of it, but once they did, there was no turning back. You crawled into the back seat, shooting him a searing glare as he slapped your ass before climbing in after you.

In the confines of the car, the tension between the two of you was thick. Tee didn't waste time, his hands roaming over your body as if he knew every inch of you. Your resolve crumbled as his lips found your neck, kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin. You let out a soft moan, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you straddled his strong thighs.

"You missed this," Tee murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Admit it."

You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just good dick, remember?" But your words held no conviction, and Tee's smug smile grew wider. He knew he had you, and the thrill of it was written all over his face. He reached up, cupping your cheek gently. "But it's more than that, baby," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "It's always been more."

As he spoke, his hand moved to unbutton your jean shorts. Your chest heaved as you felt his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body that you hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity.

"You’re so fuckin' wet, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Your breath hitched as Tee's fingers found your entrance and circled it with a skill that had you biting back a moan. The friction was exquisite, and you couldn’t help but rock against him, your body begging for more.

"Tee..." you whispered, your voice a mix of warning and need. But he ignored you, his focus solely on the pleasure he was giving you. His fingertips found your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your toes curl in your sneakers. Your eyes fluttered closed as you gave yourself over to the sensation, the anger dissipating like smoke in the wind.

"Just like old times..." Tee murmured as he slid two fingers into you, the sudden fullness making you gasp. The leather of the passenger seat headrest behind your head was cold against your skin as you leaned back, your eyes fluttering closed. The sound of your breathing filled the small space, punctuated by the occasional moan that escaped your lips. You had missed this, the feeling of being filled and desired by someone who knew your body so well and on instinct.

But you weren't about to admit it. Not now, not when you were trying so hard to keep your walls up. "Don't get too cocky," you managed to say, your voice strained. "It's just been a dry spell."

Tee chuckled darkly, his thumb continuing to circle your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you. "Dry spell or not, still got the wettest pussy I've ever had," he said, his voice filled with a possessive edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn't help the moan that escaped you as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss that left you gasping for air. His hand slid from your neck to your chest, cupping your breast through the jersey and teasing the nipple into a tight peak. You felt his cock strain against his pants, and the urge to feel him inside you was almost too much to bear.

"Take this shit off," he hissed as if suddenly remembering you were wearing Ja'Marr's jersey. The material of the jersey was pulled away from your body, revealing your plain black bra. The sound of the fabric tearing filled the car, echoing the chaotic passion between the two of you. Tee's eyes darkened with desire and a hint of possessiveness as he stared at your exposed skin.

His gaze dropped, and he leaned in to kiss the soft swell of your tits, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin before biting down gently, causing you to gasp and arch your back. His other hand remained between your legs, his fingers moving in and out of you, the rhythm increasing as his kisses grew more urgent.

You felt the beginnings of an orgasm building, your hips moving in sync with his hand. But you didn't want it to end there. You wanted more, needed more. With a growl of frustration, you pushed him back and began to undo your shorts, pulling them down over your legs as Tee chuckled, watching your impatience. You kicked them aside, straddling him again, and reached for his pants.

You leaned down to kiss him, your hand fumbling with his belt buckle. The sound of metal clicking open was music to both your ears. You felt his cock, thick and hard, pressing against the fabric of his briefs. Tee groaned, his hips bucking up to meet your hand as you freed him. The sight of him, so eager and needy, made your core throb with desire.

"Fuck, I've missed this," you murmured, your voice thick with lust.

Tee gripped your hips and pulled you down onto him, his erection pushing past your wetness in one swift motion. Your eyes rolled back as he filled you, the sensation of his thickness stretching you almost too much to bear. He began to move, his hips bucking up into you with a fervor that spoke of his own desire. The leather of the car seat was cool as it dug into your knees, but you didn’t care as you leaned into his thrusts, your breath coming out in gasps.

The car rocked slightly with your movements, the sound of your skin slapping together echoing through the quiet night. Your hands gripped the back of the seat, your nails digging into the leather as Tee’s hands roamed over your body, his mouth finding your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave bruises. You knew you would wear them with a disconcerting mix of pride and shame, but right now, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he felt inside you.

Tee’s hands slid up to your chest, squeezing your tits roughly, fingers tugging at the clasp, allowing them to fall from their restraint before wrapping his lips around a nipple. You moaned, your hips moving faster, urging him on. His other hand held you in place, keeping you tight against him as he picked up the pace. You could feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that was going to shatter you into a million pieces.

"Tee, oh my god," you gasped, your body trembling as you felt yourself getting closer. His teeth grazed your skin, his hand moving down to grip your ass tightly, his hand soothing over the skin before delivering a firm slap that echoed through the car.

"You like that?" he groaned, his voice muffled against your skin. "You like when I fuck you like this?"

You could only nod, your voice lost to the sensation of him filling you so completely. 

Tee wasn’t satisfied by that alone. He pulled away from your neck and stared into your eyes, his own filled with a dark hunger. "Say that shit," he demanded, his voice low and rough. "Say you missed this dick."

Your eyes flashed with defiance for a moment before you gave in, your voice a needy whine. "I missed this dick." The words left your mouth in a rush of air, and Tee's eyes lit up with triumph. He began to pump into you harder, his grip on your hips tightening, his movements more deliberate. The car rocked with each thrust, the leather of the seat squeaking slightly under your weight.

"Good girl," Tee murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "You know you missed this." His thumb found your clit again, pressing down as his fingers continued to explore the depths of you. The sensation was too much, and you felt your orgasm build rapidly, a crescendo of pleasure that you hadn't experienced in so long.

"Tee, oh god, I'm gonna..." your voice trailed off as you bit your lip, your eyes squeezing shut. The words hung in the air, a declaration of your impending climax. Tee's strokes grew more deliberate, his hips meeting yours with a force that had the car bouncing slightly.

"Tell me what you need from me," Tee demanded, his breath hot against your neck. His strokes grew deeper, more powerful, as if he were trying to claim your very soul with every thrust.

Your breath was ragged, your voice strained as you whispered, "Just make me come, Tee. Wanna flood your dick, baby." The words were a mix of submission and challenge that made Tee’s eyes burn with lust. He knew you were close, your breath hitching and your pussy tightening around him. He reached up and pinched your nipple hard, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back and cry out.

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, your pussy clenching down on him as you threw your head back, your eyes squeezed shut. Tee watched your face, the way your mouth fell open in a silent scream, the way your eyes shut and your dimples deepened. He could feel your juices coating him, making every stroke slick and hot. It was like coming home, a feeling he had craved for so long.

"Yeah, baby, just like that. Take what you need from me, baby." Tee murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched you come apart in his arms. He could feel his own orgasm building, his balls tightening as he pumped into you slowly. He waited, savoring your climax before kissing you, his own climax still quite a ways away.

Your kiss grew sloppier, more desperate, as Tee’s thrusts grew more erratic as he bucked up into you. Your body was hum of sensations, your pussy still clenching around him as you rode out the last of your orgasm. He felt his own approaching, the base of his spine tingling with the promise of release.

With a rush of movement, he lifted you off his lap and dropped you to your knees. You stared up at him, chest heaving, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and lust. Tee took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort. He leaned back against the car seat, his erection still standing proud. "Open your mouth," he said, his voice a low growl.

You didn't argue. With a flick of your tongue, you tasted the precum leaking from his tip. The familiar flavor of him washed over you, and you felt a sense of homecoming you hadn’t expected. Tee's hand wrapped around the back of your head, guiding you closer to him.

His hand gripped the base of his cock, stroking slowly as he watched you. You leaned in, taking him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip. Tee's eyes rolled back, his head falling back against the seat. He groaned, his hips jerking upward involuntarily as you took him deeper, your mouth sliding down his length. You knew just how he liked it, the way he liked to feel your tongue on the underside of his shaft, the way he liked to watch you take him in until he was all you could see.

You moaned softly, indulging in the taste of your love-hate relationship, your anger now a distant memory in the face of such raw desire. Tee's eyes never left yours, the silent communication speaking volumes about his need for you. He watched you intently, his hand still guiding your movements, his breathing growing harsher with every stroke of your tongue. Your cheeks hollowed as you took him deeper, your eyes watering slightly as you fought the urge to gag. It had been so long since you had done this, but your body remembered the rhythm, the way to make him moan and squirm.

He gently pulled you away from his length, strong hand moving to jerk himself off. "You gon' swallow what I give you, baby?" he panted, tattooed hand moving frantically over his thick shaft that glistened with a mix of your spit and arousal.

You nodded, eyes never leaving his. You hadn’t expected this turn of events, but you were too far gone to resist. Tee’s hand moved faster, his abs tensing as he approached the edge. Tee's head fell back against the headrest, and he let out a strangled groan, his hand tightening around his dick. You could feel his thighs tense, and you knew he was close.

You stared up at him, arousal and submission swirling in your eyes. "Mmhmm," you murmured, Tee's eyes snapped back to yours, his hand at the back of your head again, holding you as close as possible to his cock without allowing you the satisfaction of taking it in your mouth again.

"So fuckin' pretty, baby. Lookin' at me like that," he murmured, his hand stroking his cock. The sight of him, so lost in his own pleasure, had your pussy pulsing with a renewed hunger. You leaned in, your tongue darting out to lick the tip of his shaft. Tee groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before snapping back open, a hint of challenge in his gaze.

He stroked himself faster, the sound of his hand against his cock filling the small space. Your mouth watered as you watched him, your tongue slipping out to catch the beads of precum that formed at the tip. "You want it, baby?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Mmhmm," you murmured again, eager to please him, to show him that you still knew his body, that you still craved his pleasure.

Tee's hand tightened around his shaft, his hips jerking upward as he reached the peak of his climax. With a final, guttural groan, he spoke, "Open your mouth, baby, take it from me." You eagerly obeyed, your mouth open and waiting. He erupted with a moan, the hot spurts of his cum painting your face and tongue. You took it all, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him on your tongue, the power of his release under your control.

For a moment, you stayed like that, Tee panting and you swallowing, your eyes locked. The tension in the car was palpable, thick with the scent of sex and desire. Tee leaned back, his chest heaving, and you wiped your face with your thumb a smug smile playing on your lips. "Missed me, huh?" you quipped, trying to lighten the mood, but the words hung in the air, loaded with the weight of your tumultuous history.

Tee chuckled, his hand moving to caress your cheek gently, wiping away a stray drop of cum. "More than you know," he admitted, his voice softer than before. You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand sending a shiver through your body. You didn't miss this, you missed him, you realized with a jolt. The way he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

But you couldn’t let yourself get lost in that feeling. Not again. With a shaky breath, you sat back on your heels and reached for your discarded jersey, pulling it over your head. You had to get dressed, had to get out of the car, had to get away from him before you did something stupid.

"I'm starting to remember why I threw your ass out my apartment," you said, trying to keep your voice light as you pulled yourself together. Tee threw his head back, laughter filling the car. It was a sound that still made your heart melt.

"You know you liked it," he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to tell your Mom you were a good boy," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Tee's laughter grew louder, and you couldn't help but smile, the sound of it bringing back a flood of memories you had pushed aside.

"You still got my Mom's number?" Tee quipped, still chuckling as he tucked himself back into his pants, watching you struggle to maintain your composure as you dressed. You threw him a glare that would've made a saint sweat, but he just grinned back, unbothered. That was the Tee you missed the most. Not the arrogant superstar, but the goofball who knew how to make you laugh even when you were pissed.

You reached for the car door handle, but Tee's hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could make your escape. His grip was firm but gentle, a silent plea for you to stay for a little while longer. You looked down at your entwined hands, the tension in the air thick with unspoken words. When you looked up at him, you could feel your knees practically give out.

"Look," you began, your voice a shaky whisper.

He shook his head, both hands reaching for your waist. "Don't say it," Tee said, his eyes searching yours. "Don't push me away again. I can't handle that shit." The desperation in his voice was raw, a stark contrast to the cocky confidence he usually exuded. He swallowed slowly, trying to decipher the emotions playing on your face.

You looked down at his grip on your waist, not even realizing you were straddling him again, feeling the heat of his skin against yours. You didn't know what to say. Part of you knew better than to let him back in, but the other part of you, the part that had missed the warmth of his arms, the sparkle in his eyes, and the taste of his mouth, was begging for more. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

"You make this so hard," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. You didn't want to give in, not after all the pain he had caused you, but you could feel the wall you had built around your heart cracking.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours. "I know, baby," Tee whispered, his voice a sweet promise that sent shivers down your spine. "But we can make it work. Just give me another chance. I swear I'll do better for you."

Your eyes searched his, looking for the lie you told yourself had to be there. But all you found was sincerity, a desperation that mirrored your own. You didn't want to be that girl, the one who took him back after all the shit he had put you through. But you were that girl, and you knew it. With a sigh, you nodded, your body melting into his embrace. "Okay," you murmured, the word a barely-there whisper that seemed to echo in the car.

Tee's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid you would change your mind. His lips found yours again, a gentle kiss that spoke of his gratitude and his love. You kissed him back, your hesitance dissipating like mist in the morning sun. You had missed this, missed the way he made you feel. A nagging need for his touch, his warmth, his love.

The two of you sat there in the car, kissing, until the reality of your surroundings began to seep back in. You pulled away with a final peck, your eyes wide with the sudden realization of where you were. "Your family's probably wondering where the fuck you are," you said with a laugh, pushing him back gently.

Tee's smile didn't fade. "They'll be fine. They should know better than wait on me when I'm with you." He kissed you again, and you felt the warmth of his affection spread through your body. The moment felt so right, so perfect, like a scene from a movie. But you knew that life was rarely a fairy tale, especially for the two of you.

"Look, I'm not saying we're back together," you began, setting clear boundaries despite your wavering resolve. "But maybe we can see where this goes."

Tee nodded, understanding the cautious tone in your voice. He knew he had to tread lightly. "Whatever you need from me, I'll do it. Just don't push me away again, please," he whispered, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your stomach flutter.

You shared one more lingering kiss before you finally climbed off of him, fixing your clothes with shaky hands. Tee watched you, his own need to touch you still strong. "Need me to walk you up? It's dark as hell out here," he offered, his voice still thick with hope.

You nodded, unable to resist the comfort of his company. The cool night air hit you as you stepped out of the car, the garage lights casting a stark contrast to the inky blackness outside. Tee took your purse in his hand, the other reaching to hold yours, a gesture that felt both familiar and foreign. As the two of you made your way through the now-desolate garage, the sound of your footsteps echoing, you allowed yourself to lean into him slightly, the weight of your decision hanging heavy in the space between you.

[bookloover35]

No more hiding/ Eddie Munson x fem reader.

The sound of the school bell echoed through the halls of Hawkins High, signaling the end of another grueling day. You hurriedly stuffed your textbooks into your backpack, eager to leave before the rush of students flooded the corridors. But just as you were about to slip away, you noticed a familiar mop of dark curls near the lockers at the far end of the hallway.

It was Eddie Munson.

Your heart gave its usual flutter at the sight of him, that strange mix of excitement and nerves that had become all too familiar whenever he was around. You couldn't help it—there was something about his defiant attitude, his refusal to conform to the town's small-minded expectations, that you admired deeply. Even if it meant he was often the target of people's cruelty.

And today was no different.

Jason Carver, the star athlete and self-proclaimed king of Hawkins High, stood in front of Eddie, flanked by his group of sycophantic followers. You couldn't hear their conversation over the noise of passing students, but the mocking tone in Jason's voice was unmistakable. Eddie, of course, was trying to brush it off with that casual, devil-may-care grin he always wore, but you could see the tension in his shoulders.

You clenched your fists. It was always the same—Jason picking on anyone he deemed unworthy of his time, and today, Eddie was the unlucky victim.

Without thinking, you found yourself walking straight towards the group. Your pulse quickened, and you could feel eyes turning in your direction. As you got closer, Jason's voice became clearer.

"Hey, Freakshow," Jason sneered, flicking one of Eddie's Dungeon & Dragons books onto the floor. "Maybe if you stopped playing with your little nerd toys, people would actually take you seriously."

Eddie laughed it off, bending to pick up his book. "Wow, Jason, you really got me there," he said with mock enthusiasm. "Do you come up with these zingers all by yourself or do you have a team?"

Jason's smile faltered, and you could see that familiar flash of anger in his eyes. He took a step closer, shoving Eddie against the lockers. That was the final straw.

"Back off, Jason!" you shouted, your voice ringing louder than you'd intended. The crowd that had gathered to watch the drama turned to look at you, their eyes widening in surprise.

Jason paused, taken aback. He hadn't expected anyone—especially not you—to intervene. You were usually the quiet, stay-in-the-background kind of student, and for a moment, even Eddie seemed stunned.

"What's the matter, Carver?" you continued, stepping between him and Eddie. "Is bullying the only way you can feel important?"

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Stay out of this, princess," he spat, clearly annoyed by your interference. "This is between me and the freak."

You didn't back down. "I'm not going anywhere. And if you keep this up, I'll make sure Principal Higgins hears all about it." You shot him a glare, daring him to test you.

Jason's jaw clenched, but after a tense moment, he seemed to decide it wasn't worth the trouble. "Whatever," he muttered, turning to his lackeys. "Let's go. This freak isn't worth it."

As the jocks slinked away, the tension in the air finally broke. The other students, sensing that the show was over, began to disperse, whispering among themselves.

You turned back to Eddie, who was staring at you with wide eyes. "You okay?" you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

"Uh, yeah," Eddie replied, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by something softer, almost... awed? "Didn't know you had that in you."

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way your heart was racing. "Well, someone had to do something. I'm tired of watching them treat you like crap."

Eddie's smile returned, but this time it was genuine. "I appreciate it. Seriously. Most people just pretend I don't exist, let alone stick their neck out for me." He paused, his eyes flickering to yours. "Guess I owe you one, huh?"

You waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you don't owe me anything, Eddie." But before you could stop yourself, you added, "I just... I hate seeing people hurt you. You don't deserve it."

For a moment, you both stood there, the bustling noise of the school fading into the background. Eddie's gaze softened, and he tilted his head as if seeing you for the first time.

"Hey," he said quietly, taking a small step closer. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you actually cared about me, sweetheart."

You let out a breathy laugh, trying to hide the way your heart skipped at the pet name. "Maybe I do," you admitted, feeling your cheeks burn under his intense gaze.

Eddie's eyes widened slightly, but then his expression shifted into that trademark grin. "Well, that's interesting," he said, leaning against the lockers with a newfound swagger. "Because, if you haven't noticed, I might be a bit interested in you too."

You blinked, not quite believing your ears. Was he serious? The Eddie Munson, the boy who made your heart race, was actually interested in you?

"Tell you what," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "how about I make it up to you for saving my ass today? There's a new horror flick playing at the drive-in this weekend. Maybe you and I could... you know, check it out?"

You couldn't stop the grin that spread across your face. "Yeah," you said, trying to keep your voice steady You could feel your heart beating faster as you looked at Eddie, still trying to make sense of what was happening. He was smiling at you, his dark eyes twinkling with that familiar mix of mischief and warmth. You had always been drawn to him, but to hear him admit he was interested in you? It felt like a dream.

You nodded quickly, unable to hide the smile that stretched across your face. "I'd like that," you replied, your voice softer now. You could feel a flutter in your chest at the thought of spending time with him outside of school—just the two of you.

Eddie's grin widened. "Great," he said, his tone light but with an underlying sincerity. "It's a date then."

Your heart did a little flip at the word. "Yeah," you whispered, "a date."

The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Most of the students had already left, but you and Eddie stood there for a moment longer, both of you smiling like you had all the time in the world.

"You know," Eddie said, breaking the silence, "I think I might owe you more than just a movie night. You really saved me from Jason today."

You shook your head. "You don't owe me anything, Eddie. I just... didn't want to see you get hurt."

Eddie's expression softened, and for a moment, the usual sarcasm and bravado melted away. He took a step closer, his voice quieter now, more earnest than you'd ever heard it. "I don't think I've ever had anyone really stand up for me before. Not like that."

You met his gaze, feeling the warmth between you grow stronger. "Well, maybe you deserve someone who does," you said, your words almost a whisper.

Eddie seemed to be lost in your eyes for a moment, his smile turning into something deeper. "Maybe I do," he said, his voice barely audible. "And maybe that someone is you."

Your heart fluttered again, and this time, you didn't try to hide it. You both knew what was happening—there was a spark, something undeniable. You'd been drawn to Eddie for so long, and now, it seemed he felt the same way.

"Well, Eddie Munson," you said with a teasing smile, "I guess we'll see where this goes."

Eddie grinned, his usual confident self returning. "Oh, I think it's going to go somewhere pretty damn good," he said, his eyes shining with excitement.

As the two of you finally made your way out of the school together, you felt like you were walking on air. No more hiding your feelings, no more watching him from the sidelines. Today, you'd stood up for him—and in doing so, you'd found something even more meaningful in return.

The beginning of something real.

[justauthoring]

your reassurance

matches could get a little tense, but never this bad.

a/n: i go back to school in two days and im not ready to deal with the stress of everything once again so i wrote this to comfort me :) i promise i'll write for anime soon lol.

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader

warnings: you literally get a water bottle thrown at you :)

Basically, it had all gone to hell in a matter of seconds.

What had been nothing more than any regular game you’ve gone to hundreds of times, turned into a full out brawl that left your heart racing in fear. You’d been up in the box with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins as you always were, happily watching Richmond play while your eyes specifically gravitated towards a certain player with the number nine on his back.

Richmond was winning and you’d been very vocal and very loud about your excitement and support (like you always were) the entire game. Jamie seemed to be especially on fire that day after securing one goal himself and assisting with two other ones, which happily placed Richmond in the lead of three to one.

But it wasn’t an at home match, and it seemed like some of the fans who cheered for their home team didn’t appreciate just how loudly you and your friends were cheering.

After Jamie manages to score another goal himself, you’re jumping up to your feet, decked out in red and blue with Jamie’s number happily adorning your back. You scream so loud even though your throat already feels raw from how loud you’d been cheering the entire match, Keeley’s hands tightly clutching your arms as the both of you jump up and down. Jamie is being tackled by his teammates and you watch the celebration with a fond smile, cheeks flushed, skin slightly warm with sweat as the whole match catches up to you.

Then, suddenly, there’s something smacking you right in the forehead.

It’s a surprise enough, not having expected the hit, but it hurts enough to knock you off balance. You stumble backwards on your feet and feel Keeley’s grip tighten on you as she tries to catch you. Your hand falls to your forehead where you’d been heard, winching when it throbs in response, lowering your gaze only to see a water bottle on the ground next to your feet and when your eyes glance ahead of you, you see a pair of blazing eyes staring back at you.

“Babes,” Keeley calls out in shock, pulling your eyes on her as she glances at your forehead. “Are you–”

“Shut your damn whore mouth!”

You’ve hardly processed what’s happening before you realize that the man is trying to climb his way up to your seats, and Keeley is harshly pulling you back to safety. You distantly hear Rebecca calling out for security as Higgins tries to guide everyone else to safety as well. You know you should snap out of it and help Keeley but your vision is blurring and your heart is racing and everything is suddenly too much that you’re stuck staring at the pair of eyes that seem to wish the absolute worst for you.

The man manages to grab your arm before you can fully pull away, digging his nails into your arm as you let out a small cry before Keeley rips his grasp off of you and fully tugging you away. She pulls you to face her, shoving her in front of you when it was clear that you were the man’s target and you see security rushing past you as second later as you’re pulled away from the stadium and down the hall.

Rebecca is rushing to get medics and Keeley is trying to ask you if you’re okay but you can’t think straight. You keep glancing over your shoulder in fear that somehow the man will be there, but of course he isn’t and before you know it you’re being tucked away into a room and sat on a bench where Rebecca returns with some of Richmond’s medics.

Keeley stays there, holding your hand tightly as the medic checks you over. You squeeze her hand without even realizing it, your heart still pounding madly against your chest as the medic cleans the scratches the man had managed to dig into your arm and place a bandage over them. She confirms that you have a very mild concussion from the plastic water bottle hitting your head and she wants you to rest in the room for a bit before heading home, and only if you have someone to drive you home.

Luckily, Keeley is able to assure that you do when you find yourself unable to speak, and then the medic is leaving with one final goodbye and a nod Rebecca’s way.

“Babe,” Keeley calls softly, “are you–”

“Where is she?” A sudden voice booms and you react to something for the first time since everything had happened, back straightening as your eyes fall towards the door in alert. “Oi, where is Y/N? Y/N–”

Whatever Jamie had been about to say promptly falls shut the second he reaches the door and his eyes catch yours. His face falls when he sees you, the wild panic in his eyes morphing to concern when he takes you in and before you realize it you’re jumping off the bench and he’s wrapping his arms around you before you can even take one step.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, burying your head into the crook of his neck as a small sob leaves your lips. Jamie presses a hand to the back of your head in response, worried eyes flickering over to Keeley who’s offering him a small smile and a hand to your back before she steps out with Rebecca, the two of them giving you some privacy.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to get ‘ere,” Jamie rambles the second he’s sure you’re alone. He pulls back, moving to cup your cheeks as his eyes traces your injuries, frowning deeply when he sees the bruise that’s welling on your forehead. “We were already leaving the pitch when it happened and when I tried to turn around, I couldn’t get through. I tried to get to you as soon as possible, love. Are… what happened?”

It’s like everything finally catches up to you. The tears welling in your eyes finally fall as you clutch onto him tightly, relying on his presence heavily, shaking your head. “I dunno,” you mumble. “One second I’m cheering for your win and then a water bottle is being thrown at my head. Jamie, he was so angry… the man who hit me and then he was trying to get to me and I froze… I… I was so scared.”

Using his thumb to brush away your tears, Jamie shakes his head, shushing you gently. “I’m so sorry, love. I should’ve been there.”

You just shake your head; “you couldn’t have known. Keeley helped get me away and Rebecca got security as soon as possible.”

“Then I owe them the whole world for keeping you safe for me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, careful not to put pressure on your injury. “And I’ll personally make sure that that man is never allowed to a single match ever again. And worse.”

Nodding, you reach up and grab his hands in your hand, leaning against him. “I couldn’t think properly until I saw you,” you explain, registering that you hadn’t really listened to the medic when she was trying to help you. And you hadn’t thanked Rebecca or Keeley yet, which you would need to. “I think I was in shock.”

“Of course ya were,” Jamie agrees. “What ya went through… ya never should have had to. I’m so sorry that it even happened in the first place.”

You just shake your head, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I think the medic said I only had a mild concussion. And that you need to drive me home.”

“Done,” Jamie agrees with ease, “you practically already live with me. Will ya be okay takin’ the bus back home with the boys? I don’t really want ya to be alone.”

You nod with ease. “I want to be with you,” you assure, meeting his gaze. “Rebecca’s private jet is lovely but I need you.”

“Then you’ve got me,” Jamie promises, pulling you in for a hug once more, holding you tightly as if afraid you’d disappear from his fingers. “Always.”

[youaintnothinbuta]

— race higgins nickname hcs —

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

pairing: race x fem!reader

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

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

He’d call you:

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

— Hey, sweetheart, how are you?

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

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

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

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

— “Woah, mama, you look good.”

— “Damn, mama, blue is your colour.”

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

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

— “Darling, let me do it. I got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— “Come, beautiful, come sit down.”

— “There she is! My beautiful girl.”

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

— “Hey, doll, you look nice.”

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

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

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

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

• Racer

• Racey

• Blue

• Handsome

• Lover boy

• Babe

• Love

[amoreva]

SPIDERS AND THREAD

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

pairing: racetrack higgins x reader

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

warnings: blood, cursing, description of stitching

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

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

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

“Race…?”

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

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

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

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

Does he though?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Suprise.” Race said dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And pull.

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

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

“I—”

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

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

A few moments of silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[heliads]

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

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sl-newsie]

Cryophobia (Racetrack Higgins x OC) *Winter Special* ❄️

Summary: Racetrack tries to ask a girl on a date, but seems to regret it when she coaxes him into ice skating. Will a small accident possibly dilate their new love?

“Extra! Extra! Coal inventory down 20 percent!”

“Colder weather expected throughout the week! Get your paper right here!”

I do my best to ignore the huddled newsies, who are currently in my way. It doesn’t help when the younger one looks up at me with wide, pleading eyes, and all but begs for me to buy a paper.

“I’m so sorry! I’d luv to, but I don’t have much spare change.” To make up for what I cannot provide, I give the sad child one of my apples. “It’s not much. I do hope you get better customers.”

I turn to continue on my way, but have now caught the attention of the odda newsie.

“Hey Les, who’s your friend?” He asks. 

The child called Les shakes his head and holds up the apple. “I donno. I tried to sell her a pape but instead she gave me this.”

The questionnaire steps forward, one hand clutching a newsbag and the odda holding a cigar… but it’s not lit. 

“Well hello there, miss.” He removes his hat in a gentlemanly fashion. “And what might a young lady such as yourself be do’n on this crisp evening?”

“Returning from the market. May I inquire who’s asking?”

The man lets out a laugh. “‘Inquire?’ That’s a big word! Ya read much?” He lifts up a newspaper and wiggles his eyebrows. “I could deliver one to you straight away tomorrow.”

His teasing tugs at my heart and I can’t help but smile. “Possibly. But why should I tell you where I live, hm? I don’t even know your name.”

He nods respectfully and tips his hat. “Racetrack Higgins at your service, miss. Friends call me Race.”

I smile politely. “Good to meet you, Race. I’m assuming that’s a nickname?”

“Sure is,” he states proudly. “I’s one-a the best gamblers in ‘Hattan. Now may I ask who you are, beautiful?”

Normally, my parents’ lessons have taught me not to speak so much with strangers. This Race character may be new to me, but he is certainly much better than other men I’ve had to converse with. 

“It’s Emily, Emily Shelby.”

Race’s eyes go wild. “Shelby? As in Father Shelby, the minister? God… Whaddya do’n out this late? Your fadda won’t like that!”

I laugh at his sudden caution. “Believe me, I’m not as uptight as my family. They think I’m supposed to be a simple girl who stays home and will become a housewife, but for now I’ve been enjoying what freedom I have outside.”

This seems to spark an idea in Race, because he suddenly gets very excited.

“Well, if you’s so keen on do’n something fun, how ‘bout I take ya out?”

I must admit, his boldness is intriguing. Already he’s proven to be polite and chivalrous, both redeeming qualities that I respect very much. Besides, I’ve already grown up 20 years and am still being pushed to find a suitor. It’s time I stop putting it off and start courting.

I snicker and give him a nod. “Alright. You claim the date, I name the activity on said date.”

Race’s smug look shows a quick flicker in surprise to my response. “Well alrighty, then! What’d ya have in mind, beautiful?”

I smirk. “Ice skating.”

The man’s eager face falters darkly in a split second to almost reflect a look of pure terror, almost too fast to notice. But he quickly regains himself and shows a confident smile.

“Very well. I assume you know the best spot?”

“Indeed I do, Higgins. There’s a pond not too far outta town.”

“What about me?”

We both turn back to the smaller newsie, who’s starting to shiver. I kneel down and offer him my gloves.

“It’s get’n dark, Les. You should head back and warm up. Tell Davey I’ll be late.” Race looks over at me with a cheesy grin. “Tell him I’ve got a date.”

Les nods eagerly and scurries off.

“So where to?”

I stand up and point to the trail leading north. Race offers an arm, which I take graciously, and we both start walking through the crisp air. Thankfully we’re on the edge of town and the pond is close by, because the air’s already starting to get colder. Race must notice, because he begins to take off his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs. “It’s cold, figured you’s could warm up more.”

I hold up a hand to stop him and gesture for him to put his coat back on. “That’s really sweet, thank you. But I don’t get cold too easily. You need your coat more than I, Race. I promise this won’t be too long- oh! Here we are!”

For now there’s no falling snow, but that won’t last long. I lead Race to the edge and notice that the ice is untouched, which is strange since I thought more people would’ve been here by now.

“Don’t we need skates?” Race asks as he gives the pond a skeptical look.

“Not necessarily. I’ve never been able to afford skates, so I just slide with my boots on.” I grab a nearby stick and give the ice a stiff poke, discovering that it’s smooth enough. “Good conditions for skating. Very smooth, very sturdy. Just one thing-” I turn to Race and change to a serious tone: “Be careful by the edge and the center. That’s where the ice is the weakest.”

He nods in understanding and still seems cautious of the ice, so I decide to show him by stepping out foist. Race eventually seems convinced and carefully steps out too, already slipping all over the ice.

“Hang on!” I help steady him before he can fall. “One step at a time, Higgins- ah!”

Race lets out a yelp when he slips again, causing him to cling to my chest. The closeness sends my heart beating like a crazed metronome, as well as bringing Race to get a mischievous look on his face.

“Gee, Emily. If you’s was so desperate to get close, all ya gotta do is ask!”

I roll my eyes and help him regain his balance. “Careful, Higgins. Remember I’m the minister’s daughter, and boundaries are very important.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

He tests out the ice again and soon begins gliding around as well, each of us leaving trails all over the snow. By now it’s starting to snow, making it harder to see. Eventually Race gets the hang of it and, before I can comprehend what’s going on, he slides up behind me and spins me around.

“Whoa! Wait- aah!” I giggle and laugh as the brown-eyed newsie twirls me through the billowing snow. No one has ever made me feel this full-hearted, so free-spirited… As if we’re skating in a magic snow globe apart from reality itself.

Race must notice my dazed state because he slows down to try to look at me more carefully through the white, blinding blizzard. He has a strange look too, as if he’s thinking about something serious.

“Emily, I just wanna say that- Oh God!”

We both hear it before we know what’s going on. I feel Race shove me away just as the crack forms, ripping open the ice and swallowing Race into the frigid water. My heart stops, as well as all the happiness I’d just felt, as I scramble over to see what’s become of my new friend.

“Race? Race! Oh my God! Where are you?!” I shriek as I feel around the cold water, hoping to catch him. It appears that God has heard me, because I feel a hand grasp mine and Race resurfaces. He’s coughing and shaking as if he has personally met Death, leading me to react with panic.

“Here, here! Up, up, quick!” I help him crawl up outta the water and carefully lead him back off the pond and onto solid ground, where I immediately start to tear his waterlogged clothes off.

But Race sees this differently.

“Wait- What-? Emily, whaddya doing?” He asks in a confused manner.

“You’s soaked to the bone, and these icy clothes is just gonna make hypothermia even worse!” I explain as I strip him down to his knickers and undershirt, then remove my own cloak to wrap it around him. “Quick! We need to get you someplace warm. Do you have a place to stay?”

“Th- Th- The lodging h-house,” he tries to answer through shiver fits. “‘S- ‘S not t-too far.”

My mind forms out a plan and I sling an arm around him. “Alright, let’s go. Hurry! We’ve gotta be quick if you don’t wanna catch cold.”

“Too late,” Race tries to joke, but this is no laughing matter. He’s pale as snow and his lips are turning blue.

Time drags on, apparently wanting to torment me with worry as we rush back to town. When I ask Race for directions he points to a street leading further into ‘Hattan, and thankfully I am quick to spot a sign that says Newsboys Lodging House. I don’t even bother knocking.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask Race.

“Up-upstairs.”

After I help drag him up what seems like an infinite number of stairs I finally get him to the bathroom and have him sit in a tub, but leave his clothes on to give him privacy.

“We can’t heat you up too fast, so just bear with me.” I start the water with a steady temperature, meanwhile Race is grasping my cloak around him for dear life. After a while he finally starts to get some color back on his face.

“Are you still numb?” I ask hesitantly.

He gets a funny grin on his face and shakes his head. “I can feel my feet again!”

I nod again and again, trying to remember if there’s any treatment I forgot. There doesn’t seem to be, so all I can do now is kneel down next to Race and look at him with guilt and apology. 

“Race, I am so sorry! This is all my fault, and I will replace your clothes. And… I understand if you wanna forget about this-”

“Are ya kidding?” The short newsie finds sensation in his hand to grasp mine and he starts laughing. “Doll, that’s gotta be one-a the most terrifying moments of my life, and I luved it! I mean, all my life I’s been too scared to skate, and here you are look’n all innocent and gorgeous ask’n me to skate with ya! God, Mush is gonna laugh when he hears this!”

But I don’t laugh. All I can do is gawk and stare at his laid-back response.

“Emily? You ok?”

Jaw still on the floor, shake my head. “I just- You… You almost caught hypothermia and you’re just- just laughing about it? How are you so calm?”

Race shrugs. “Gotta laugh sometimes. If you don’t, life gets too sad.” He sits up straighter and his smile grows softer. “I’d never wanna forget you, Emily. Not if it means never having adventures like this again. Besides,” He gives me a teasing wink. “Was really sweet to see how you’s really care ‘bout me.”

I let out a heavy groan and hold my head in my hands. “It’s called adrenaline. Makes people do crazy things.”

“I disagree.” I feel Race trail his thumb across my cheek. “I think it highlights who a person really is, how they really feel. And if I’s right…” I feel him shift in the water and look up to see his face only inches from mine. “Now that I can feel my face again-” He pauses to cup my face in his hands and leans in impossibly closer. “I can feel your soft lips.”

And then he kisses me. Full-out and deep-hearted. He ironically makes me go numb, and sends a million emotions coursing through me. I don’t even hesitate when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into the tub with him, both of us lost in thought.

Race pulls away foist because I’s too dazed to think, and he looks up at me as if I hung the stars.

“I think I luv you…” he thinks out loud in a dreamy voice.

“My my, whadda we got here?” Anodda voice taunts.

I nearly leap outta my skin and jerk my head around to find anodda newsie standing in the doorway, one with an eyepatch. God, how’s this gonna look? The minister’s daughter caught with a half-naked newsie in a bathtub.

Race don’t seem as fazed by it. Instead he just sighs and gives the intruder a warning glare.

“Blink, you so much as utter a word-a this, and I’ll bust your odda eye.” He says this so lightly, as if simply asking for a glass of water, rather than how harsh it’s supposed to sound. Though the message is just as dominating, because ‘Blink’ holds up his hands in surrender and starts walking back. 

“Enjoy, c'est la vie, have fun. Forget I was even here.”

Race nods. “That’s what I thought. Now, where were we?” He trails kisses down my still-shocked face. “Don’t mind him, he won’t tell.”

I stir myself outta my trance and get a grasp at what’s happening. “Race… My father won’t like this. You gotta keep it secret, please!”

“So there’s no objection from you?” His face light up and he pulls me closer.

I shake my head and rest it on Race’s chest, giving him a playful smirk. “None at all. I kinda like this.”

[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."